Title : Captured Moments: 12 Days of Christmas
Author : Kira [kira at sd-1 dot com]
Genre : Romance/Fluff
Rating : PG-13
Disclaimer : We all know the drill. I don't own Alias, so please don't sue me. I'm already in debt. And even if you did sue me, it would come off my credit card and I'd still be in debt. So, right. You're better off leaving me be.
Author's Note : Thank you, every single one of you, for your kind reviews. I never thought this little series would gain so much interest, and I'm eternally greatful for your comments.

Part Six: 6 Geese a Laying

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me:
6 Geese a Laying
5 Golden Rings
4 Calling Birds
3 French Hens
2 Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree


"Sweetie, I know you just got back from another business trip, but I have to go to the restaurant tonight. This huge food critic from the Times will be there, and this could – "

I waved her off from where I lay on the couch, head propped up with a gold-accented throw pillow as I read a book nestled on my lap. "Don't worry about it, Francie," I interrupted, leaning up to look at her over the back of the couch.

"I do! I'm really sorry – I'll try to be back as soon as I can."

"Don't rush, really. I'm not in a position to be angry with you running off," I countered, flashing Francie a smile. "I know you'll get a good review."

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart," Francie gushed, moving into the living room and giving me a fast hug. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she repeated, and rushed out the door in a flurry like a departing snowstorm. As soon as the door closed, clicking the apartment into a welcomed silence, I fell back onto my strategically placed pillows and sighed at the ceiling as if it would give me the answers to all the troubled thoughts roaming in my head. It was nice to get a little time off, even if I knew I'd be back at work the next day, and I fully intended to spend it alone in my apartment, reading and relaxing.

Oh, a bubble bath was calling my name.

I giggled, yes, giggled, and covered my mouth with my hand even though there was no one else around to hear me. The thought of a bubble bath had been forever tainted for me, and I doubt if I'd ever be able to think about one again without the mental image of Vaughn relaxing in one. That, and the activities later on that night, which were not as funny, but equally as entertaining.

The book I was reading was boring, anyway, just something I'd randomly plucked off my shelf to keep me occupied while taking a break from life on my overstuffed couch. It was a book bought for me as a present, probably from someone who didn't know me that well, as the subject matter was the kind that I'd never read even if forced to. Like now. Groaning, I tossed it to the coffee table and threw an arm over my eyes.

"Hey, you're back!"

I moved my arm and popped open one eye a fraction of an inch. "Hey, Will."

"You look exhausted," he replied, sitting on the back of the couch, a mug of coffee held in one hand. I shrugged and pushed myself into a sitting position, eyeing his coffee. Oh, that would be so nice…

"Mine," he said, smiling. He held the mug close to him as if it were a precious teddy bear, my perchance for stealing coffee from unsuspecting males known, apparently, because he backed away and darted for the kitchen before I could even get up.

"There's more of that, right?" I called, lazily rounding the couch after him. He smirked up at me as he poured a cup from a freshly brewed coffeepot of live-giving caffeinated coffee. How had I not smelled that sitting and reading? Was I that tired? He handed the cup off to me.

"You know what this house is missing?" he asked.

I took a sip of the coffee and let it take action before replying. "What?"

"A tree. You don't have a tree."

"When have I had time to put up a tree?" I commented. "Kendall won't even give me vacation."

"Really?"

I narrowed my eyes and took another drink to keep me from growling. "Don't tell me you got time off."

"Actually, I did."

I don't think I threw many temper tantrums as a child. I'd like to think I was a calm, good child who always listened to her parents. Forget recent events of disobeying my father and his directives, as those are rights that come as an adult. But I don't think I've ever stopped in the middle of the toy store and thrown a tantrum on the floor or cried in the middle of a crowded mall walkway. But now this was my kitchen, and I was jumping up and down, thankful I had taken some sips of coffee before doing so.

"I can't believe this!" I think I shouted a few times as I jumped. Will put a hand on my shoulder, laughing, and held me in place.

"Calm down, Syd. I'm sure you'll get – "

"No! No I won't! This is my first Christmas since…since…and – "

"Okay, we need to get you a tree right now," he declared. "Grab your coat, we're going out to get one."

I sobered up and sniffled. "A real one?"

"Yes, a real one. I hate those fake trees."

"Yeah, me too."

"So let's go," he ordered, marching me over to get my coat. I stomped along, wondering if tree lots were still open at 9pm, and figured even people who worked had to get trees, and even if not, it's not like it was hard to operate a tree lot. But in LA? Where do they grow?

I had a feeling Will had planned this out before hand and scoped out the best lots, because within five minutes, we were parked outside a large, crowded lot hung with colorful lights and an inflated snow man standing at the entranceway. I grinned, glancing over at Will before climbing out of the car and running excitedly to the lot, feet crunching over fake snow sprinkled along the lot's ground, glitter twinkling under blinking lights. Will came up to my side, hand on my arm as he led me past the shack that served as the operations building for this little lot of trees, and pushed me past excited families and grinning couples.

Couples.

Was this how Vaughn was going to feel while he was off for the holidays and I was at work? Alone, sad, and wishing there was something he could do to break me out of the mundane rotundra? My steps slowed as I idly flicked at tree branches, Will's endless chattering about the several different types of trees started sounding more and more like the parents on the Charlie Brown Christmas special I'd seen parts of earlier in the day as my thoughts wandered to those of a less cheerful variety.

Vaughn was going to spend his holiday with his mother, Will with Francie's family – or was it his and he was bringing her with? Something like that. My father was the only other option, but he was Scrooge this time of year, and rarely, if ever, noticed the day was a holiday. He was most probably going to be at work with me, wondering why I was so down when I shouldn't be.

"…and this is the – "

"Hey! I'm not a tree!"

That popped me out of my thoughts violently, my head whipping around to see who Will was speaking to (as well as poking).

"I had a funny name and everything," Will pouted.

"Hi, Syd."

He's charming, he's gorgeous, and his smile, normally amazing, looked brilliant under the dancing Christmas lights and a sprinkle of fake fluffy snow, sparkling like a star from above itself. Michael Vaughn is certainly a gift from heaven, at least for me, and I threw myself into his arms wholeheartedly, the dismal thoughts of before melting away as he wrapped his arms around me.

"I told you I'd get her here," Will commented over my head. Vaughn gave a chuckle and ran a hand down my hair.

"Thanks," he replied. Oh, wait! This meant Will was going to be alone, effectively ditched. I spun around and caught his arm.

"Wait! You don't have to go, really, Will – "

He smirked. "Actually, I'm meeting Francie for dinner. But, you two have fun."

"We will, thanks, again, Will," Vaughn waved, pulling me back to his side. Will gave his timid wave and pushed through the fake snow back towards his car, shoulders high. Made me believe he wasn't lying, and thus, made me feel better about his part in this whole thing. Which reminds me…

"What was that?" I asked, smacking his middle. He caught my hand and pulled me flush with him, a hand cupping my chin in one smooth movement, I could have sworn he was moving at super-human speeds.

"What was what?" he whispered down to me. I bit my lip to keep from drooling all over our shoes.

"That. Will. The trees."

"Well, you need one, don't you?"

"Yes, but – "

He cut me off. Cut. Me. Off. If we were in traffic, I would have honked and swerved, attempting to keep myself from crashing him into the medium before continuing on my merry way. This method, which involved less traffic and more sweetness, was welcomed, and his hand on my chin slid behind my head to the base of my neck as he kissed me and I swear to God, I felt like the front of a Christmas card.

Perfect, happy, content. Complete.

"Wow," he whispered against my lips. I nodded dumbly in agreement and licked my lips, which only brought him in for a short tease, fingering my cheek as he lingered for just a moment, breath hot against my face.

Forget the tree.

"We came for a tree," he continues, grasping my hand in his.

"Right."

"So, let's get a tree."

Well, the faster we get a tree, the faster we get back to my place, right?


I don't know much about trees. They're green, and last time I checked, they were called evergreen trees. Or a pine tree. The exact name of the different varieties never came up in casual conversation before, and it's not the type of information you learn in an advanced literature class. So I'm going to say the tree Vaughn and I returned to my apartment with was an evergreen tree, short yet full, easily fitting on the roof of his government sedan. It was an odd sight; I'm sure, seeing a sleek black sedan with a pine tree latched to its roof.

It was small enough to fit through the front door, a path of pine needles leading from the front foyer to a cleared area in the living room, the tree leaning up against the wall as Vaughn points out a flaw in our reasoning.

"Do you even have a tree stand?" he asked me, leaning against the wall behind the tree. I leaned forward, parting branches as if uncovering a treasure deep in an evergreen forest, and nodded.

"Yes."

"Well, I'll watch the tree while you go find it."

I let the branches swish back to their original positions and, hands on my hips, eyed the mess that was my living room and entrance way, footprints trailing over mounds of fallen pine needles leading all the way to the tree. I turned back to it, then returned to the mess.

"The tree will be fine," I told him. "You clean up in here, and I'll get the base."

"Hey now - !" he started, but I fled the room, leaving him to clean on his own while I retrieved the tree base from the shelf above the washing machine. I felt like such a little kid, kneeling on top of the washer, my arms extended as fingers brushed the base. I launched forward, fingers tipping it over the side of the shelf and to the ground, the metal clattering against it as I spun and jumped off the washer.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Fine," I called back, collecting the base from the ground. As I walked back into the living room, I sighed, the base held between my hands as I examined a crack in the side. Great. Just great. "Here," I said, dejected, handing it off to Vaughn. He propped the broom he'd discovered in the kitchen against the wall near the fireplace and accepted the broken base, turning it over in his hands before giving me some sort of reassuring smile.

"This is what happened, huh?"

"Yeah."

He smirked and motioned in the air with the base. "When I was…six, we got our first fake tree. Mom hated it. I mean, really hated it. She was old fashioned, liked her traditions – " he paused, thoughtful for a second, "still does, actually. Anyway, my dad was all excited. Plastic trees were the new thing, and he was all happy over being one of the first people with one. Well, he put it up and we decorated it, but the lights weren't made for plastic, and well…let's just say we had a small fire."

"Your tree caught on fire?" I asked, laughing. He nodded.

"Took all the lights off, but it was still charred, and leaning. So my dad turned the burnt part towards the wall and left it up, pride not allowing him to return it. Plus, getting a new tree would mean my mom won, and there were nothing if not constantly in competition with each other. We got a real one the next year, but that year, we had a crooked tree."

"And Christmas was fine?"

"More than fine. Dad said it added character. Now, granted if this thing still works for us." He smiled, motioning to the base in his hand, "your tree will have loads of character and nothing had to set on fire for that to happen."

"If only I had a fake plastic tree…"

"Too late for that. If I had to drag this in here, it's staying. Now, come help me with this – I've had a 2 foot plastic tree in my apartment for years now, so I'm a bit rusty when it comes to the real thing."

I filed that away for future use, a bit sad that he'd celebrate Christmas in his cold apartment with only a miniature plastic tree and his dog. I'm sure he doesn't even have a single decoration up, unconcerned with such things. That, and his trip to his mother's probably made up for it, but I'd find it hard to get into the holiday spirit with a small fake tree.

He stood waiting next to the tree, eyebrow raised as he wondered, I'm sure, what I was up to. I walked up to him, planted a quick kiss on his lips, and wrapped my hand around the tree's crown.

"Ready?" I asked. He dropped in a heap of limbs and stretched out on his stomach under the tree, base held at the end of his outstretched arms.

"Check."

I lifted the tree clean off the ground and felt his hand grip the bottom and guide it, a thunk sounding when he had it secured in the base. I stepped back to admire the feat that was standing a tree while he remained underneath, tightening the clamps around the trunk. With a triumphant click of his tongue, he pushed out from under it and turned to me, smiling.

"Straight?"

"Not even close," I retorted, leaning my head to the side. It leaned. Terribly. Where it should have been straight, it was leaning severely to the right, into the wall, and I felt for it, and momentarily wondered where I could get it a cane of some kind.

"Character. That, and it's a conversation piece," Vaughn said from the floor, still settled there on his stomach. Now he'd propped his head up with a hand, smiling with sparkling eyes reflecting the candle light burning on the mantle.

"Just wait until Will and Francie get home. They're going to wonder what I did to the tree."

"We need a fire."

"What?" I asked. "I thought you said we could add conversation without setting anything on fire."

"I meant in the fireplace. It's cold."

"On the floor, maybe," I said. He motioned with a hand and flopped over onto his side, head falling to be pillowed by an outstretched arm. I put my hands on my hips and shook my head. "I can't leave the tree bare like that."

His gaze flickered up the tree, then over and up me before it settled back on my face. "Why not?"

"Why not? Are you insane?"

"Only around you," he muttered. I huffed and tapped my foot. "What? It's true!"

The man is insufferable. Certifiable, gullible, sweet-talking, handsome, and lying on my living room floor, beckoning me to join him and snuggle up in his arms, and I wanted to decorate a tree. Couldn't he appreciate the fact that once distracted from the task at hand, I'd never get back to it, and end up with a boring and bare tree come Christmas morning?

I glared down at him with the full force of the Bristow glare, biting my lip to hold back a grin as he jumped and stood, rubbing his hands together nervously.

"So," he said softly, "where are your règlages?"

I cocked my head to the side and stifled laughter. "Excuse me?"

"What?" he asked innocently. I let the smile I'd been hiding back loose and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to my side.

"Trimmings?" I translated, turning to look at his face, my nose pressing into his cheek. His tongue poked at my nose from the inside of his mouth as if I were some bug he was trying to get rid of.

"Isn't that what they're called?"

I lost it. Lost. It. As in collapsed on my couch and held my stomach as I laughed. My hair fell into my face, obscuring him from my sight as I continued to laugh. I heard him shift and sigh and could just see him running a hand through his disheveled locks in frustration, or even confusion. My laughter died down, leaving me lying prone on the couch, a leg and arm splayed off the edge of the couch, my hair tangled all around me. Vaughn was standing in front of the tree, puzzled.

"Vaughn," I said calmly. "They're called ornaments. Or decorations."

"I understand this is one of those situations where the words you have inside your family might not be – right."

"Let me guess – "

"My dad called them that, too," he interjected. "You're the first person to say something, you know."

Awww. He was so cute when he was feeling a bit dejected, and I held both my arms up in the air and beckoned him over. He smirked and put his hands on his hips.

"Are you insane?" he said, mocking my voice. "We have to decorate the tree."

If I wasn't lying on the couch, I would have tackled him.

Why should that stop me?