Title: Christmas Ghost
Author: Janice (jes004)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Alias characters are the property of JJ Abrams, Disney, and anybody else who has legal claim to the Alias property. The story is mine.
Summary: Jack goes undercover for the CIA. The assignment stirs up memories he'd rather forget.
Part 1
"Whose brilliant idea was this? It's too dangerous." Jack hissed, banging the glass tumbler in frustration against the glossy wood of the terminal bar. The man sitting next to him gave no visible response to the angry outburst.
"It's the only way, Jack." Devlin sipped at his drink, turning slightly on the stool to watch the sea of faces passing by. The airport terminal was busier than normal; the bustle of holiday travelers providing ample camouflage for their meet. "You are the only one of our agents who has ever seen Salazar."
"Which is why the plan is asinine. He'll recognize me and I'll be dead before I leave the mall." Jack stared down at his drink. The room was crowded and the bartender stayed busy filling drinks. No one paid attention to the two men occupying the stools at the end of the bar.
Devlin picked up the bag sitting on the floor between them and pulled out a paperback book. Jack recognized it as the current best seller, a lurid novel of sex and scandal. He noticed that several pages were dog-eared. He looked at his own book, a bookmark neatly keeping his place. Laura hated it when people would dog-ear books. He shut out the memory. "That shouldn't be a problem, Jack. We have the perfect disguise."
Jack snorted. "I can't just hang around in the plaza for four hours. He'll have people watching for that."
"He won't even notice you," Devlin assured him, still pretending to be engrossed in the novel. "They have a Santa booth very near the drop location. You're face will be covered in white whiskers."
"You want me to play Santa? No. Absolutely not!"
"C'mon, Jack. It's a good disguise. We really need you on this." Devlin turned the page.
"I'm working on a project in Tokyo. Sloane is expecting delivery before the end of the week. I'm sorry, Dev, but I can't afford to make him suspicious."
"We've got that covered for you. You'll be back by tomorrow afternoon. The shipment will be at its most vulnerable on Wednesday. You can retrieve what he wants then and be home in time for Christmas."
Jack rubbed at his neck, trying to work out the sudden tension. "Christmas? Bah humbug."
"Sydney will be expecting you."
"Sydney wants her mother." Jack swallowed back the last of his whiskey and signaled the bartender for a refill "I've purchased a few presents for her, but I have no idea what she really wants. She won't tell me. Even her nanny couldn't get it out of her. Says if she tells, it won't come true." He shook his head. "I can't give her mother back to her, no matter how much she wishes and I have no idea what else to get her."
"This will be a perfect opportunity for you then. You will 'killing two birds with one stone', so to speak."
"Two birds?" Jack raised a questioning brow.
"Yeah. We get Salazar and you can find out what eight year old girls are dying to have this year."
Jack groaned.
"You'll do it, then?" Jack nodded in assent. "Good. There's a plane waiting for you at gate 21. Arlene will work on the beard and hair on the way over."
Devlin slipped from the barstool, picking up his briefcase and a small poinsettia plant. Without a backward glance, he blended into the flow of holiday travelers and was gone.
Jack nursed his drink a while longer. He wasn't sure when Sydney began asking him about 'mommy'. He had been away a lot that first year. Six months locked behind bars with little human contact and too many memories. Once he was released, the memories were even more unbearable. Laura was everywhere. At night, he'd lock himself away; hoping the mind numbing effects of the liquor would permanently vanquish his demons. When that didn't work, he buried himself in his work. Then his friend Arvin Sloane recruited him into his new 'business'. When he learned the truth about SD-6, he became a mole for the CIA.
He was starting to pull himself back together, when Sydney started asking him questions. "What was mommy's favorite color? What was mommy's favorite dress? Did mommy like chocolate chip cookies? Did mommy love me?" He'd look into his daughter's earnest brown eyes and remember. He wondered if Laura was enjoying her accomplishments in whatever place in the hereafter she'd been assigned. She'd left behind a daughter who was desperately trying to remember and a husband who was just as desperate to forget.
Jack looked at the book in his hand. With grim deliberation, he pulled out the bookmark as he purposely folded the page into itself.
…………………………………………
Part 2
Santa's Gingerbread House was placed conveniently near the food court, allowing for maximum exposure to potential customers. A large sign proclaimed Santa's presence; with a smaller one offering Polaroid photographs for just $3.00. A large chair sat center stage, surrounded by oversized lollipops, candy canes and poinsettia plants. Shaved soap particles were piled thickly around the tiny house, giving the appearance of snow.
A large man wearing a dark red suit framed by white cuffs and collar held center court, while small children stared in awe at the most powerful man in their world. He had the look of Santa, with a long white beard and thick curly hair. A pair of round wire rimmed glasses enhanced the look and provided additional camouflage for his cover.
"Okay, Loner, everything is in place. When you see the target, you're to say "Ho, ho, ho, happy Christmas. Not merry Christmas, but happy Christmas. If you hear me, nod."
Jack nodded and sighed. The long trip from Japan was taking its toll. Listening to children jabber about their Christmas wishes was a grating reminder that he still didn't know what gift Sydney wanted. Seeing a line of parents and children snaked around the outside perimeter of the house didn't help brighten his mood. He had loved the Christmas season, once, but that was before. Before the world as he knew it came crashing down around him.
The mall was busy with shoppers, especially young families. Happy smiling couples clasped hands as they strolled from store to store. Mothers and fathers proudly watching their children as they excitedly danced through the gaily-decorated mall. Jack felt the pain of a headache start at the back of his neck. He watched as an elderly nun bent over a small table, a collection box to one side. A small sign requested donations for a local soup kitchen. A passerby dropped change into the box and she nodded her thanks. An image of Laura rose, unbidden, to his memory. His eyes caught the nun's and she quickly looked back down, her body the epitome of subservience. Jack shook his head to clear away Laura's image. He hated Christmas.
"Okay, Santa, you're open for business." Sarah, his 'elf' helper, plastered on smile and prepared the Polaroid camera for their first customer.
He managed to listen to each child's request, and respond accordingly, all the while his eyes carefully scanning the passing shoppers. Two hours into his watch he spotted Salazar… and his daughter. She was standing in line with the nanny he'd hired earlier that year. Salazar stood near the elf stand, carefully scanning the food court.
Jack watched Salazar from the corner of his eye. He caught brief snatches of Sydney's conversation with the small boy standing in front of her. "Anyone can ask Santa for a fire truck. That's a baby wish." Sydney held her chin up. "My wish is really hard."
"Nuh unh. Mine is harder." The little boy tugged on his mothers dress. "Mommy, tell her mine is not a baby wish."
Jack waited until his daughter was safely past Salazar before finally giving the signal. The sound caught the man's attention and he briefly turned toward the Santa house. Jack held his breath as the sharp eyes momentarily settled on his face, before moving past him to the line of people waiting on Santa. Jack watched as Salazar's eyes moved back to the food court, finally settling on his contact. Jack's heart skipped a beat when he recognized the table's lone occupant. Arvin Sloane was quietly sipping on a cup of coffee, seemingly concentrating on the local newspaper.
Sloane looked up, his eyes brushing past him to Sydney waiting patiently in line with her baby sitter. Jack froze. His heart resumed its rhythm when Sloane turned away, hiding his face from Sydney's view. Salazar spotted Sloane and walked past him, tossing a manila envelope into a nearby canister. Sloane carefully folded the paper, placing it on the empty chair next to him and left. Salazar started toward the table, but was cut off by an eager group of teens.
"Hey, man, we saw this table first." A tall gangly boy with stringy blonde hair pushed Salazar aside. His companions, another boy and two girls, slid into the empty seats.
The man smiled at the teens. "My apologies. The table is yours. My friend forgot his newspaper and asked me to retrieve it."
"Dude, I didn't see you sitting with that guy. It's my paper now." Jack saw Salazar reach a hand behind his suit jacket.
One of girls picked up the paper. "Oh Manny, shut up. He doesn't want the table. Let him have the paper. It's not like you can read, anyway." The girl's tone held the playful teasing of close friendship.
"Dude, I can read." Jack thought the boy might make a move for the paper, but the girl had distracted his focus enough and the paper passed safely into Salazar's hands. "Hey, I got you a Christmas gift, Suze." Manny shoved a box into the girl's hands.
"Oh. A snow globe. It's beautiful, Manny." Salazar moved away, satisfied that the teens were exactly who they appeared to be. Jack watched as the girl shook the globe, allowing the flakes to float gently down over the tiny village captured in the glass. He swallowed, desperately shutting out another memory. He hated Christmas. There were too many memories. Too many ghosts.
A crackle of static in his earpiece drew his attention back from the food court. "Okay, Loner, we've got him marked. Your job is done. Take a break and your replacement will take over for you. Thanks for your help."
Jack saw his daughter was moments away from her turn and he felt a wave of panic. The disguise was good, but would it stand up to the close scrutiny of his daughter. He debated making the switch with the 'real' Santa. Sydney had been remarkably stubborn in keeping her Christmas wish list a secret. "A good quality for a spy," Jack thought wryly. He decided to chance discovery in order to find out why she'd been so secretive.
He saw that the little boy in front of Sydney was getting restless and wasn't surprised when the child scooped up a handful of snow, packed it together in a ball and aimed it right for him. Jack managed to duck in time, but the child moving to his lap wasn't as lucky. The child turned, and seeing the grinning boy, made his own 'snowball' and threw it back. In only moments, the quiet, well-mannered line grew chaotic as children plastered each other with the fake snow.
By the time Mall security arrived, the snow shavings were everywhere. Several people skidded precariously on the slippery particles. Sarah looked around at the mess. "Well, Santa, this is the most excitement we've had here all season. Security wants us to take a break so they get the cleaning crew to clear up this mess."
"Wait, let me take the little girl first. She wasn't involved in the fracas."
"Whatever knocks your socks, Santa. But after her, we break, okay?" Sarah turned to Sydney and motioned her to sit on Santa's lap.
"Hi Santa. My name is Sydney Bristow. I hope you are the real Santa, because I need to talk to you."
"Ho, ho, ho. What can I do for you, Sydney?" Her eyes widened.
"You sound like my daddy."
"That's how you can tell I'm the real Santa Claus. Only the real Santa can sound like everyone's daddy."
Sydney considered this for a moment, and then nodded. "My friend Sissy told me that you can only give one really big wish at Christmas. Is that true?"
"You have more than one really big wish?"
She nodded. "I want a Cabbage Patch baby and I want my daddy home for Christmas. If I only get one, then I just want my daddy."
A lump formed in Jack's throat. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.
"Okay, little girl. Santa has to go. Smile for your picture." Sarah held the camera up and the light flashed, momentarily blinding him.
Sydney turned anxiously back to him. "Do I need to write you another letter? My teacher made us write the other one and I didn't want her to see what I really wanted."
"No, Sydney Bristow. I've written your request right here." Jack pointed to his heart. "I'll do everything I can to see that your daddy is home by Christmas."
"Thank you, Santa." She gave him a kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad I found you in time."
Jack watched as she walked away, holding the nanny's hand. "I'm ready to go now, Sarah."
"Okay, I'll make the announcement. Do you sing tenor or bass?" She lifted a microphone by the register.
"Tenor. Why?"
"Because we have to do the song."
"Song?" Jack looked at her in horror.
"Yeah, the song. You know, the one personnel told you about when you interviewed for the job. Mall policy. We sing "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer" before each break." Seeing his look, she added, "It's good for the kids. They really get into it and it keeps the parents from getting too upset over the wait."
"No one mentioned it when I was interviewed for the job." Jack made a mental note, promising Devlin payback.
"Well, I need this job and I'm not going to get fired because you don't want to sing." She handed him a microphone. "You're singing. I'll do the alto part." She turned back to the crowd of people still lining the Gingerbread house and smiled brightly. "Good evening, Shoppers. Santa will be taking a five-minute break. Before we leave we have a little song for you. If you know the song, we invite you to join in the singing." Sarah gave Jack a hard look. "On three," she whispered. "One, two and …"
"Rudolph, the red nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose…" They sang as the children punctuated the verses with 'like a light bulb' and 'like monopoly'. When they finished, the crowd cheered and Jack walked quickly back to the break room. He nodded to his replacement, who had been whiling away his time working on a book of crossword puzzles. He waited until the man left with Sarah before stripping the wig and beard from his face.
He folded the suit neatly and packed it into a shopping bag. His new disguise complete, he then slipped out into the mall. There were several toy stores spread throughout the facility and Jack strolled casually to the nearest one. He scanned the doll section for anything labeled Cabbage Patch, but the search proved fruitless. By the time he visited the third store, he decided to ask the cashier about the doll.
"I'm sorry sir. We did receive a shipment this morning, but they were sold out in an hour."
"Do you know where I might be able to purchase one?"
"On this continent?" The sales girl asked incredulously.
"I take that as a no?"
"I did hear someone say they were flying to Tokyo because the dolls are not that popular in Japan."
Jack brightened. "Tokyo? Thanks for the tip."
"Sir, I don't know that for sure," she told him anxiously. "It's just something I heard. I wouldn't want you to fly all the over there and find out it isn't true."
"Don't worry, I have to be there for a meeting in the morning. Thank you." Jack strode from the store into the streaming crowd of shoppers. He managed to avoid tripping over several strollers and a man trying to maneuver a wheel chair through the constantly changing mass. A hand brushed against his and for an instant, he imagined the fingers squeezing softly against his wrist. He searched the sea of faces surrounding him, but, excepting the nun, no one appeared other than what they were; shoppers in search of last minute gifts.
He watched the nun as she walked slowly toward the parking garage exit. Something about her made him think of Laura. The way she walked, the tilt of her head. He used to tease Laura that he could pick her out of any crowd in under thirty seconds. Jack grimaced. Laura again. The season was getting to him more than he thought. For once, he was glad he officially worked for Arvin. He was no longer subject to monthly psych evaluations. If the CIA knew he was seeing his dead wife in the form of a nun, the analysts would have a field day.
The car Devlin had arranged to meet him was waiting outside the mall. He climbed into the back seat, throwing the bag with the Santa suit on the seat next to him. A small book fell out of the bag onto the floorboard. He picked it up and studied the outside cover. It was made of soft leather and bore the silver scripted title: "Love Poems". No author was listed and the inside cover indicated that it was privately printed.
He had the book scanned for bugs before boarding the military transport that would be his flight back to Tokyo. He settled against the hard plastic of the storage containers, drawing an army blanket across his legs for warmth. He shivered and mentally noted another thing he needed to discuss with Devlin. The hard floor of the transport and the unheated cabin made it impossible to sleep. In desperation, he pulled the book of poetry out of his bag and began to read.
A wave of anger welled up from within and he threw the book across the plane. He recognized the poetry immediately. Laura was always writing poetry. She wrote about Sydney's first tooth and her first trip to the zoo. He would often find short verses tucked in his suitcase when he left on one of his trips. Her love poems were always saved for his return. He'd looked for them his first day home from solitary confinement. He had looked forward to burning them one by one. His search had proved fruitless.
He'd suspected someone from the CIA had the poems in his possession. Seeing them compiled in a book confirmed his suspicions. Bile rose in his throat. The book had to have been placed in his bag by someone within the CIA. Only the CIA knew he was in Los Angeles. Only the CIA knew he'd be at that mall. Another wave of anger hit him. Someone wanted to remind him of his wife's duplicity. The nun was obviously a plant. Someone who had known Laura must have coached her. For the next few hours, Jack mulled over possible scenarios for the CIA to play with his emotions.
He retrieved the book and, once more, began to read. When he was finished, the answers clicked in place. He decided to confront Devlin about it at their next debriefing.
Part 3
The next day, Jack located the doll in one of the main Tokyo toy stores. By Friday, he'd completed the SD-6 operation and was on a plane home later that night. Devlin had arranged for a quick meeting during his layover in Honolulu.
Jack found his friend sitting at the bar inside a Premier Club lounge, a pile of cigarette butts lined an ashtray. A sign outside the door indicated the room was closed for repairs. Devlin grinned when he saw Jack's package. "Cabbage Patch doll. My wife camped overnight at a Toys R Us last week to get one for our daughter. Where'd you get yours?"
"Tokyo," he said briefly. "They were on sale."
Devlin held up his hand. "Don't tell me how much you paid for it. I might choke. Linda paid seventy-five dollars and thought she'd gotten a bargain." He offered Jack a cigarette before lighting one for himself. "Sorry. Forgot you don't smoke."
"The Salazar job go okay?"
"Yeah. Gold mine." He took a long drag on his cigarette. "Sources say Arvin Sloane has heads rolling. You're safe, though. He has no inkling you were not in Tokyo. We rigged the phone records at the hotel. You attempted to call Sydney about the time of the takedown and tried again about thirty minutes later. We know she wasn't home at that time, so if he questions her about the calls, you are safe."
"Sydney was at the mall when he and Salazar made the drop. He saw her, so I don't think any explaining will be necessary. Besides, I have the plans he desperately wanted, so that should make him happy. I have a copy for you already at the drop site." He walked to a window overlooking the concourse. A parade of planes lined the runway, each waiting their turn to carry their passengers to other destinations. "Tell them to call off the dogs, Dev."
Devlin's eyebrows shot up. "Dogs?"
"I don't need reminding that I owe the US Government. It was the CIA's idea that I go undercover at SD-6, not mine. Just…call them off. Please."
"I honestly don't know what you are talking about, Jack. I haven't heard even a whisper questioning your loyalty." Devlin moved next to the window. "Why? Has something happened?"
Jack searched his friends face. "I thought I was being tagged at the mall. There was a nun collecting funds at a table." He decided not to mention the resemblance to Laura.
Devlin frowned. "I'll have it checked out and get back to you. Anything else?"
"No, that's all. I know it doesn't sound like much, but my instincts only failed me once."
"Jack, you need to quit beating yourself up over that. Laura fooled all of us."
"Yes, but none of you married her," he responded bitterly. Picking up the doll, he walked to the exit. "Sloane is sending a courier to meet me at the airport in LA. I'll see you in January."
"January?"
"Yeah, I thought I'd take some time off and spend the holiday with Sydney."
"I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything." Devlin picked up his suitcase and joined Jack at the door.
"You do that."
Several hours later, Jack pulled into his driveway. He looked at his watch. Ten pm. The nanny met him at the door.
"I checked on her a few minutes ago, Mr. Bristow. She's asleep."
"I apologize for getting back so late. I know you said something about being with your family for Christmas."
"It's not a problem. I'm going to my son's house and they aren't expecting me until midnight. Have a merry Christmas."
Jack handed her an envelope and she looked up at him in surprise. "Merry Christmas. It's a little bonus. I really do appreciate you taking such good care of my daughter."
"She's no trouble. You and your wife have done a fine job."
"Yes, well. Have a safe trip."
Jack took his suitcase to his room and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He peeked in on Sydney, satisfied that she was still sleeping soundly. He went to his study and unlocked the closet. There were several professionally wrapped packages bearing his daughter's name, gifts he'd accumulated over the year. He pulled them out and placed them under the Christmas tree in the living room. He was surprised to see several packages already in place. Emily Sloane had sent over several boxes for both father and daughter. Sydney had wrapped three gifts for him. The nanny also had a couple of gifts for Sydney and one for him placed with the other gifts.
He pulled the Cabbage Patch doll out of the shopping bag. He knew there was Christmas paper stored somewhere, but Laura had always been in charge of the gift-wrapping. He hunted through several closets before finding the rolls in the guest room. He started to close the door, when he noticed a small box that had been hidden by the paper.
Curious, he pulled the box from the closet. It was unmarked and heavily taped. He pulled a small pocketknife out and opened the package. Inside was a heavy glass ball mounted on a dark wooden base. A peaceful snow covered village nestled at the bottom of the glass and small white particles shifted in clear liquid pressed inside the glass. Jack swallowed.
"Daddy." Sydney's squeal startled him from his reverie. "You're home."
"Sydney, you should be in bed. You better get back to sleep or Santa will pass right by our house."
"I don't care. I already got my Christmas wish."
Jack put the globe on the dresser and lifted his daughter into his arms. "I heard he's granting extra wishes this year."
She giggled. "Daddy, did you know Santa sounds zactly like you?"
"I have heard that is how you know you have the real Santa," Jack told her solemnly.
"That's what Santa said." She yawned, her head drooping onto Jack's shoulder. He pulled her close and took her back to her room. Placing her under the covers, he gently smoothed back her hair and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.
"I love you, Daddy," she whispered, snuggling against her pillow.
"I love you too, baby," he whispered back, but she was already asleep.
Tucking the covers in around her, he watched her chest rise and fall, taking refuge in her innocence. They were both victims of Laura's deceit. As he watched her sleep, he made his own Christmas wish and a promise. He vowed that he would do everything in his power to keep his daughter safe and prayed she would never find out the truth about her mother.
Laura. He hated Christmas. The ghost of Laura seemed to haunt him more at Christmas than any other time of year. They had told him who she really was just a few days before. "Merry Christmas, Jack. We need to talk to you." He laughed mirthlessly. They. That sounded so anonymous. The men who put him chains had once worked side by side with him, had trusted him as he had trusted them. Even after two years, the look in their eyes as they placed the cuffs around his wrists still had the power to haunt him. Another ghost. He was beginning to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge. Now all he needed was the ghost of Christmas future.
Sydney stirred, muttering softly in her sleep. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then quietly slipped out of the room. Walking back to the guest room, he picked up the wrapping paper and a roll of tape. A shaft of light radiated from the window, the soft rays from the moon eerily glinted off the antique globe he had left on the dresser.
The snow globe was her first gift to him, a reminder of the little town where they had met. His roommate at the college talked him into going on a ski trip during their Christmas break that year. He had no family to celebrate the holidays, so he'd agreed. It had been the same with Laura. How many years had they laughed at the strange circumstances that had brought them together?
Laura had given the gift to him on the plane trip back to the college as a 'reminder of the most wonderful week in her life." He picked the globe up, shaking it before placing it back on the dresser. The tiny flakes swirled around, giving the illusion of a gentle snowstorm covering the village. He hated Christmas.
Every Christmas Laura would pull the snow globe from its box and place it somewhere near the tree. Sydney had almost broken it when she was three. Now he wished she had. Placing the wrapping paper under his arm, he picked the globe up again and made his way to the den. He placed on the bare mantel and set to work wrapping the Cabbage Patch doll. When he finished, he placed it under the tree. Satisfied, he went to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a sturdy tumbler.
He returned to the den and turned the tree lights on, then settled back into his recliner. There was a stillness to the house, an emptiness that settled heavily on him. Small noises magnified the quiet. An antique clock in the hall chimed the midnight hour. He lifted his glass in a mock salute. "A toast to my Christmas ghost."
…………………..
"Daddy." Jack felt a hand tug at his shoulder. "Wake up, Dad. It's Christmas and look; Santa was here."
He groaned. "Sydney, it's too early. Go back to sleep, honey."
"But Daddy, Santa's already been here. It's time to get up." She pulled at his arm and he allowed her to lift him out of the chair. "Santa left presents for you and for me."
"Hmmm. Okay, we'll open up the presents, but let Daddy get some coffee first." Jack rubbed at his temples, a wave of nausea hitting as he rose from the chair. He looked at blurrily at his wristwatch. Six am. At least he hadn't received any ghostly visits during the night. Except for that dream. Laura. Her kiss had felt so real.
"I made the coffee already." She looked up at him proudly.
Jack frowned, the dream forgotten. "Sydney, what have I told you about using grown up appliances."
"But, Dad…the nanny taught me how. I wanted to make it special for you." He voice had dropped to a whisper; a small tear trickled down her cheek.
"The nanny shouldn't…" he broke off when more tears followed. "Sydney, why don't you go ahead and open one of your presents while I get my coffee."
He hurried out of the room, hoping the gifts would distract his daughter from her tears. He'd never been very good at dealing with tears. Laura had always… "Stop it," he muttered under his breath.
"Stop what, Daddy?" Jack turned and saw Sydney had followed him to the kitchen. "Stop what?" she repeated.
"Nothing, sweetheart. It's just daddy talking to himself. I thought you were going to open one of your presents?"
"It's no fun without you there." Jack felt a sharp stab somewhere near the region of his heart. She had spent the last two Christmas's doing just that. The first was courtesy of the CIA, the second courtesy of SD-6.
"Go on back in the den. I'll be there in a minute." Jack poured the coffee and added a measure of whiskey 'for medicinal purposes'.
When he walked back to the den, Sydney was sitting on the floor, sifting through the packages. She smiled up at him. "Look Dad. This one is for you from Aunt Emily and Uncle Arvin."
He took the package and glanced at the label. "So it is. Why don't you open your gifts first…"
"No, Dad," she interrupted firmly. "Mommy said taking turns is better."
"Well, mommy isn't here anymore," Jack started harshly. He saw the tears well again and said a little more gently, "We'll start a new tradition. You open two gifts and then I open one."
"Okay. I get Mommy's spot." Sydney picked out the packages with her name on the label and placed them in a circle at her feet. "This one is from Santa." She tore off the package and squealed happily. "It's a Mintendo. I've always wanted a Mintendo."
"Nintendo," Jack corrected as he sat on the floor next to her. "I didn't know…"
"I asked for it last year, but Santa forgot."
"I see." He chewed at his lip and reminded himself that she had specifically requested the Cabbage Patch doll.
She picked out another package. "This one is from Aunt Emily and Uncle Arvin." The paper was quickly discarded. "Oh, it's a Barbie doll." Sydney wrinkled her nose.
Jack looked at the name on the package and recognized it as one of the more frequently requested items from his two-hour stint as Santa. "That's Barbie's friend Tracy. That was very nice of Emily to give you that."
"I guess." She picked up one of his packages. "It's your turn."
Jack saw immediately that it was a gift from Sydney. He took the package from her and slowly unwrapped it. Sydney watched anxiously as the torn paper revealed her gift. "Aunt Emily said you like spy stuff."
Jack saw the title of the book. The Little Drummer Girl he read surprised. "Thank you, sweetheart. I've wanted to read this one." He placed the le Carre novel on the table.
After opening several packages, Sydney finally picked up the gift from him. "Thank you, Daddy."
"You haven't opened it yet."
"I already know it's my favoritest present."
"Go ahead and open it."
She pulled at the paper, shredding it in her haste. Taking the doll out of the case, she looked at it in wonder. "Did Santa tell you?"
"He left me a note."
"Ohhhh. That's how he does it." She nodded knowingly.
"Does what?"
"Daddy, there is no way he can deliver all those gifts on Christmas Eve. I knew he had to have help," she informed him with eight year old logic. "That must be why..." She didn't finish her sentence.
"Why what?" Jack watched as her face closed off. A trait she had inherited from him, he realized.
"Nothing." She picked up an oblong box that had fallen behind the tree. "This one is for you. It's from Santa."
Jack unwrapped the box. Inside was an expensive green silk shirt and a silver and green tie. He lifted the shirt and found a bottle of his favorite cologne tucked underneath. His traditional gift from Laura. When they were dating, she would tease him about his colorless wardrobe. Every Christmas and anniversary thereafter, one of her gifts had always been a colorful shirt and tie. His favorite cologne was added on their first anniversary. He couldn't remember sharing that information with the CIA, but someone obviously knew about it.
"Daddy, are you okay? You look all pale."
"I have to make a phone call, honey." Jack got up slowly from the floor, his head pounding once again from the alcohol. At least, he told himself it was the alcohol. He steadied himself with a hand to the mantel. The clock in the hall chimed the hour. His eyes narrowed, taking in the empty shelf above the fireplace.
"Sydney, do you have the snow globe that was on the mantel?"
She looked up from the doll cradled in her arms, eyes questioning. "Mommy's snow globe?"
Jack clenched his hand tightly on the shelf. "Yes, Mommy's snow globe. I put it here last night."
"I don't have it, Dad."
"Are you sure, Sydney? It's okay if you do, I just need to know…it's important, sweetheart."
She shook her head emphatically. "I don't have it." She pushed her gifts away from her. "See."
Jack left the room and dialed a number. "Yeah, it's me. I thought you were going to call off the dogs."
Devlin answered tersely from the other end. "For God's sake, Jack. It's Christmas morning…"
"I know what day it is." Jack interrupted angrily. "Apparently the boys enjoy playing games."
"Jack, no one has you under surveillance. I've checked your file. It's all clean."
"Then who the hell…"
"You've been under a lot of stress lately. Perhaps you should come in and talk to someone?"
"I don't need to see anyone. Someone is playing games with me." Jack worked to bring his anger under control. "It could be Sloane. I'll get back to you. Goodbye."
"Jack…"
"Yeah?
"Merry Christmas."
He slammed the phone in the cradle. Sydney was still by the tree when he returned. Surrounded by her gifts, she had fallen fast asleep, the Cabbage Patch doll clutched in her hands. Lifting her into his arms, he sat down in the recliner. He held her close against his chest, his hand smoothing her hair away from her face. The search for the Christmas ghost would have to wait; his daughter needed him for now. Closing his eyes, he joined her in sleep.
Epilogue:
Irina listened to the soft sounds of sleep through the amplifier on the seat next to her. "Merry Christmas my loves. I miss you." Throwing off the headphones, she picked up the snow globe from her lap and gently shook it. The tiny flakes swirled around the peaceful village scene. She loved the snow globe. It always brought back the memories of her first Christmas with Jack.
Going into the house the night before had been risky. It was too dangerous, she knew with her head, but her heart ignored the warnings.
It was late when she entered through the kitchen. Jack was fast asleep. His gentle snoring echoing through the amplifier told her that. She went first to her daughter's room. Sydney turned restlessly, muttering softly in her sleep. Irina brushed back the little girls hair, so like her own, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Mommy."
Irina froze. Sydney sighed and Irina saw she was still asleep. "I love you, sweetheart." She gave her one last kiss then walked to the bedroom she and Jack had shared. The bed was still made, Jack's suit clothes flung lazily across the bed. She picked them up and placed the suit on a hanger, but kept the shirt for herself.
Quietly, she made her way to the den. Jack was sound asleep in his favorite recliner. The bottle of whiskey and the tumbler beside him told her he would not be waking up soon. She made her way back to the kitchen and picked up the two gifts she'd brought in with her. A month earlier, Sydney's former nanny had unwittingly shared with her daughter's disappointment the previous Christmas when she hadn't received a Nintendo. Irina had gone out the next day and purchased the game.
Jack was snoring when she entered the den again. She placed her gifts under the tree, behind those given by Emily. As she turned to get up, the light beam of car flickered through the window catching the snow globe in its prism of light. She lifted it from the mantel, her hands caressing the glass. Small flakes swirled in the liquid as she gently shook it. She looked from the globe to her sleeping husband then back to the globe.
Smiling, she leaned over to him and kissed him, her lips gently pulling at his. Jack murmured her name in his sleep. Lightly, she brushed her hand through his hair. He stirred under her touch. "Love you, Laura."
"I love you too, Jack." She leaned in and kissed him again. Reluctantly, she pulled away. "Merry Christmas, darling."
She carried the snow globe and shirt with her as she slipped out the door and back to her car. The clock on the dashboard shone brightly in the darkened vehicle. Four thirty. She had spent a mere thirty minutes with her family. Not enough time, which made each minute precious. She picked up the directional microphone and placed it against the glass window. Turning on the amplifier, she once more plugged the headphones in and placed them over her ears, waiting for her daughter to rise so she could spend one more Christmas with her family.
fin