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.

Here it is, kids, the second to last chapter of this crazy ride, just a month or so overdue.  If you feel you're going to go through fic withdrawal and actually like my writing, give Chronic Vertigo a try. It's long, and will most certainly keep you entertained - it's v. long, romantic, and has a plot. 

Captured Moments: 12 Days of Christmas

Part 11: 11 Pipers Piping

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me:

11 Pipers Piping

10 Lords a Leaping

9 Ladies Dancing

8 Maids a Milking

7 Swans a Swimming

6 Geese a Laying

5 Golden Rings

4 Calling Birds

3 French Hens

2 Turtle Doves

and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

For all my memory, I could not remember being more comfortable than I was at that moment, sleep fading from the edge of my consciousness like the moon passing round the world for a slumber of its own. The prospect of being able to stay in this position for the remainder of the day – whatever was left of it as there was no clock within sight – was more appealing than the alternative, paperwork and intel from the shattered remains of my old office that needed more than a novice eye to analyze and report on. Mountains of it cluttered empty offices and back-up hard drives in the underground JTF to the point of insanity; the tasking of agents to go over all of it becoming Kendall's favorite activity.

In fact, he took such great joy in this task, I was dreading not only getting up, but the phone call I was sure to expect once the clock ticked a minute past nine am. Even in my half-awake state, I wrinkled my nose at the thought and stretched, mindless of the reasoning for my immensely comfortable slumber and as my arms climbed above my head, they came in contact with something firm and unyielding. My pillow shifted and groaned, something it most certainly hasn't done before, and I quickly pulled my arms back, confused. Why my pillow had suddenly developed the ability to make noise other than the occasional rustle as I tossed and turned at night was the main question on my mind, and being the adventurous woman I was, I popped one brown eye open and fixated it on where my headboard was supposed to be.

"Good morning to you, too," the impromptu pillow commented, rubbing his nose with a free hand. I grinned bashfully and cuddled up closer to him, arms wrapping around his torso as I sandwiched myself further between his body and the back of the couch. The free arm came down around my back, dragging me closer against him as he smothered his face in my hair and planted kisses on my crown. It tickled a bit as senses woke up in their own slow fashion.

"Sorry."

"Oh, for hitting me in the face?" he replied as he now stretched his own arms above his head. "Not the first time you've done it."

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

"You know what we need?" I asked suddenly, twisting around to rest my chin against his collarbone. He peered down at me and wrinkled his brow.

"Help?"

"Coffee."

Now Vaughn takes his coffee in a very particular and non-guy way, adding so much sugar he could bake a cake with what he puts in his coffee. Using the right balance of milk and sugar, he manages to turn a dark bean roast into a cocktail drink complete with the sweet taste and mind-altering after effects that send him on a hyper spree. It personifies in power-walks where a lethargic stroll would be more befitting, and babbling like I've never seen. He usually hides during these times, or drives Weiss insane with pen clicking and a motor leg under his desk, being unused to sharing desk space after his promotion and office.

Because of this, I usually make it a point to get to the coffeemaker first, roasting caffeinated, dark beans picked up in the self-grinding aisle of Vons before he had a chance to throw in some French Vanilla and cause me to suffer. With that glint in my eyes, bordering on troublesome, I tapped his nose and rolled over his body and off the couch.

His laugher filled my wake as I padded to the kitchen.

Coffee preparation takes almost no effort now, and before I knew it, he was ambling over to the counter and plopping down on one of the stools, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. I plopped a mug down in front of him, shoved over the sugar dish, and pointed to the refrigerator.

"If you're going to put that in, get it yourself."

He grunted in acknowledgement and started pouring in sugar packets.

I gazed at my boyfriend across the counter and tilted my head to the side. You could just see the change, the heat of my gaze seeping into him until he could stand it no longer and looked up, almost frightened. Brow wrinkling, he asked, "What?"

"It's Christmas Eve," I announced.

He nodded, and took another sip of his own coffee.

"And I have to work."

Another nod.

"I'm thinking of playing hooky and finding myself a nice boy downtown."

Another nod. At this point, the assumption that he wasn't truly paying attention, just nodding to keep himself safe from the gaze wouldn't be completely untrue.

"You know, a nice young one for a day."

His sip had to be a nod.

"And you're going to buy me a nice present."

"I already did," he replied after downing the remains of his mug, placing it down on the counter with a clank of ceramic against ceramic. "And if you'd like to play hooky, I'd say my apartment is close to downtown."

I snorted. So he had been listening. "No, it's not."

"Closer than yours," Vaughn retorted. He was such a smartass early in the morning before any guards or guises of professionalism had their chance to slide into place and keep him in line. But I was stuck on that comment before his try at sarcasm, and slid around the support post to lean against it a few feet to his right, drawing the line at batting my eyelashes.

"You bought me a present?"

He smiled and took a step in my direction. "Of course I did."

"What is it?" Was I bouncing? Because my father told me that when I was little, I used to bounce when asking about presents and cakes and surprises. He simply shook his head in that 'silly girl' way and scanned the room for the morning paper. It had to be something nice if he wasn't even going to give me a clue. That, or something incredibly predictable that someone as clever as I would be able to figure it out from even the most vague of clues.

So I tried for something that had worked for women throughout time.

I pouted.

He found the paper and snatched it from the end of the counter, giving a chuckle as his eyes swept over me. "I'm not going to tell you, Syd. You'll just have to wait."

I didn't want to wait, but then again, I wasn't known to be the most patient person in the room. He dug through the paper for the sports page and was about to reclaim his spot on the couch when his cell phone rang from across the room. Groaning, Vaughn threw the section down on a cushion as he made his way to his jacket hanging in the front hall, pulling the phone from the inside pocket.

"Vaughn," he answered. I watched as the joyful expression of playfulness fell from his face, replaced with a mask of worry and perhaps disappointment in the blink of an eye. Wrinkles furrowed upon his forehead as he nodded and gave an "uh huh" every twenty seconds or so.

His change in temperament caused me to abandon my own mug and move against the short wall separating the front hall from the living room. I placed a hand on his shoulder, a soft, tender touch that guided his face to me, his free hand giving me the 'one minute' sign before he twisted away deeper into the front hall and continued to speak with hushed tones. He hung up before I could let my curiosity mix with anger, and slipped the phone back in its pocket before running a hand through sleep-matted hair.

"Looks like you're not the only one going into work today."

This couldn't be good.

I was really trying to heed yesterday's lesson from my front yard and find the good in everything. I'd been expecting to go into work today, but having Vaughn with me made the chore a bit more tolerable, and we must have passed at least 50 couples parading down the streets of LA on their day off on Christmas Eve day. Most businesses were closed, and if not, they only required their employees to stay for a half day. You'd think being a federal employee meant you were allotted bankers hours, but the CIA had never heard of the word holiday, and sick days were an illusion. I had yet to meet anyone who'd used one when actually sick; most opting to come in when sick and taking a chance using their free days off for when they wanted to relax and do nothing for a day.

We were running a bit late. We'd showered together to save time (which backfired completely), taken a bit longer than usual to get ready for the day, and rushed out of the house with coats flowing out behind us as he unlocked and started the car just as I was shutting the front door. I have to admit, the man knows how to fill out a suit, and while I loved looking at him without it on, I couldn't help but appreciate him clothed in well-tailored suits every day. He took my hand in his as soon as we jumped out of the car in the parking garage, and with a cursory look at the dashboard clock, we rushed up the stairs to the main floor, slowing a bit as we passed a few weary agents on our way to the main floor of the JTF.

He dropped my hand just as Kendall was approaching.

"You're late," he stated. Neither of us said a word, and the director scowled before handing Vaughn a file. He snatched it from Kendall's hand and flipped it open, scanning it as Kendall continued to speak. "We received this intel yesterday and need it checked out ASAP."

I didn't like being out of the loop. "Wait, what's going on?"

"One of my contacts has information for the CIA," Vaughn sighed.

"Your contacts?"

"Miss Hastings will be more," and here Kendall paused, "receptive to Agent Vaughn."

Wait a second. Vaughn, my boyfriend, was being sent out on an intel retrieval because he was, and this point I have to agree on, a good looking man?

"Jesus, Syd, I'm sorry," he whispered in a Kendall-free corner of the JTF. His hand was gripping my shoulder, the fabric bunching around his fingers as he squeezed it like he had during those times when we wanted to be together and couldn't, sending reassuring vibes to me through the simplicity of touch.

"It's not your fault," I echoed. He shook his head. I was sure this was one of those times when he'd tell me to stop blaming things on myself; that I had little control over the world and what it threw at me. He always seemed to be saying that to me, telling me what I could and couldn't control, and in turn, what I shouldn't worry about. Sometimes, even though I knew everything he said within me, I just needed to hear it. Validation is one of the most powerful ways of reassurance and support.

Instead, he ran a hand down his face that spread tiredness, not remove it. "If I leave now, I can get on a midnight flight back, be here in the morning."

"You'll be exhausted."

"I'd rather be here with you as a zombie than across the ocean without you, awake."

He rather abruptly drew me to him, wrapping his arm round my shoulders and holding me steadfast as if recording a memory. His head dropped to my shoulder. My hand came around to rest on the crown of his head, fingers weaving in and out of his short, boyish hair.

"I don't want to leave you," he mumbled against the cloth of my blazer.

I sighed and leaned my head against his, protocol and professionalism be damned.

"I don't want you to leave, either."

I was in a wild frenzy the instant we left, the piles atop my desk abandoned to the agents remaining as I snuck out in a rush of passing interns who's faces were as long as mine (though for completely different reasons). My insistence on dropping by my apartment before boarding his plane grew to such levels he refused to enter the apartment with me as soon as we arrived, and I hopped out of the car and into the house with light feet.

His staying in the car worked to my advantage, my hands throwing open my closet with a flourish befitting a prize-winning exhibit, the doors pounding against the wall on each side as I stretched up and gripped the hatbox balanced on the top shelf. Fingertips brushed against the sides, and for a moment I feared it too would fall to the ground in a shower of old memories, but I finally gained a grip and dragged it down from its high perch. Like a dancer, I swung around and deposited it on the bed, ripping the lid off before searching for the item tucked at the bottom.

My present.

If Vaughn was forced to endure a holiday he so desperately wished to spend with me out of the country against his will, the least I could do was give him his Christmas gift. A moment of happiness before he flew off into the sunset, metaphorically, I'm sure, judging by the time. I'd been able to unwrap my perfect gift early, setting aside whatever he was planning for me (and doing a poor job of keeping secret), and it was only befitting that he be able to do the same.

I tucked the frame, complete with the picture lifted from Vaughn's apartment a few days ago into my jacket's deep pocket and left the room, hatbox still spilled across my bedspread, a collage of the happy moments in life that got me from one bad day to the next.

He pointed at the clock the second I slid into the passenger seat. "I'm going to be late."

"You should just not go," I tried as he shifted the car into drive and sped off down the street. I'm pretty sure he never was late for school as a child, and the idea of skipping classes in college to hang out with friends at a local bar never crossed his mind. His apprehension about leaving matched my own, but duty to country came before any personal feelings or matters no matter what the reasons might be for trying to avoid an assignment. His hand slipped over my own on a jumping knee, his fingers lacing between mine. As we passed through another green stoplight and our time together progressively shortened, his thumb rubbed up and down the side of my hand in slow, steady strokes that showed his own distaste with the newest roadblock in our lives.

The car ride proceeded in silence, the engine humming with bursts of speed until he pulled into the small parking lot outside the contracted air strip. He turned off the engine and let his keys clank together as they dropped from his hand, still in the ignition.

"Gotta go," he sighed. He leaned forward to give me a kiss, and while I'm more than willing to kiss him at any time of the day or night (except with my father in the room, for I fear he'd kill Vaughn with his bare hands), there were more important matters to attend to.

I drew the frame from my pocket and thrust it up between us so I was face to face with the black velvet backing, the tips of his spiked hair giving it an odd crown of dark blond. He grew deathly silent, strong fingers wrapping around the edge of the silver frame as he took it from my grip. As he bought it down from blinding eye level to a distance where his eyes could actually focus on it, I was privy to his face; his mouth open as his jaw hung down, eyes soft as he examined the photo in the frame.

"Syd," he breathed. "How…wha….?"

"Do you like it?"

He held it out in front of him, a hand on either side of the frame. "He wouldn't let me go play tag with the other kids," he started, "said it was too dark and dinner would be ready soon." Vaughn took a deep sigh. "I was eight. This was – "

Oh my God, he didn't need to finish that sentence. Standing outside with his father who was using the impeding darkness as an excuse to keep him around as most parents did, wishing for just a little more time with their children before running off for work the next day. My father even pleaded in his own way to keep me in when he was home between missions and meetings. The depth of the perfect picture I'd chosen from his box of jumbled snapshots fell on me as he fingered his father's figure under the glass.

"This is perfect," he told me as engines whirled in the world outside his car and the clock clicked over to 1pm. "Absolutely perfect."

"Sorry I couldn't wrap it."

He leaned over and kissed me sweetly, his lips tasting of sugar and cream leftover from his morning coffee. Well, there was one good thing about his choice of additives. I kept my hand on his shoulder as long as I could, until the hum of the jet engine outside grew louder and more impatient as his lips lingered on, and he threw me a huge smile complete with tear filled eyes before disappearing into the fuselage.

I sat back, satisfied for just a moment before exiting the car, watching his plane take off into a perfect blue LA sky. Then I fell into the driver's seat, wrapped myself in his lingering scent, and drove home.

I'm used to being alone on Christmas Eve.

Last year was spent with a photo of Danny clutched in my hands as I sat in a sea of forgotten memories, photographs spread around me competing for attention. A glass of wine on my nightstand, soft, comfortable pillows, and a photo were all that got me through last year's holiday, a reminder of not only what I'd lost, but what I'd had before. It's true what they say, that once you have something, you never want what you were once content with.

And yet, here I was, life completely different yet frighteningly the same, a glass of wine clutched in one hand, a photo in the other. The faces were different, but the sentiment was the same – joy and happiness away from the depressing nature that I'd come to know as the normality of each day.

I sighed and took a sip of the wine, wishing more than anything for the one present I'd always wanted, which involved my boyfriend, a large red bow, and a roaring fire to snuggle up in front of. I smirked; face surely matching that made in the photo taken a month ago at a company dinner, Vaughn's arms draped around my shoulders from behind, chin resting on the top of my head.

All I want for Christmas is you, Vaughn.

The phone rang and jarred me from my thoughts, the wine in my half-full glass jumping as I threw the photo down and lunged for the phone, picking it up on the second ring.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly, hopeful as I clutch it between two hands. There's a brief pause, then:

"Hey there."

My breath caught in my throat, wine plunked down on the nightstand and I sat up straight in bed as if I were speaking to my high school crush.

"What time is it there? 3?"

"4:27 am," Vaughn replied sleepily. I heard the flap of fabric on the other end followed by him shifting and sighing, getting into bed. "Listen, I know I said I'd be home tomorrow, but – "

"Its fine," I interrupted somewhat dismally, leaning back into my own pillows. "I understand."

"It's not fine. Things have just – God, and you know I had something planned for you and now, well, I won't even be there to give it to you."

Ah ha! I was right! He had been planning something!

"It can wait until you get home."

He sighed. "Yeah. I just…I wanted this Christmas to be special. It's our first together, well, not really."

"Things happen."

"I hear you finally got your vacation request approved," he said quickly, changing the topic from his failed attempt to sweep me off my feet to my triumph over Kendall and his Scrooge-like work policy. "That'll be nice – I don't think I'll be needed here any longer than tomorrow, if that."

"Finding a flight's going to be hard," I pointed out.

"I'm sure the agency can figure something out."

"Yeah," I automatically replied, my mind still trying to wrap itself around the fact that not only was I going to be alone on Christmas eve, but on Christmas day as well. I could still call my father; see if he could pull himself away from work long enough to sit at a meal with me, but it just wouldn't be the same. To him, it would be an obligation, an interruption to his daily routine that paused not even for special days and holidays. Will and Francie were off with Will's family for a few days, and a drive out to their home wasn't something to look forward to alone.

"You sound horrible," he observed.

"Naw. Don't worry about it. Just get yourself home in once piece."

"Yes, ma'am."

I sat back in my bed, simply content with listening to him breathe over the line, the distance between us seemingly shorter for an instant. But in the end, I was ultimately alone. For so long I'd worried about this happening, too weak, or frightened, rather, to ask to join him in his visit to –

"Vaughn?" I asked, suddenly hopeful.

"Hrmm?" he purred lazily. I took a deep breath and mustered up courage.

"Don't you usually spend the holidays with your mom?"

"Yeah."

"Well, umm, is she – "

"You're a brilliant woman," he suddenly perked up, awake. "Absolutely astounding. That is, if you're thinking what I think you are."

"I'm sure I can find her house, if you give me the address," I continue meekly.

"You're a life saver, really. I was expecting to return home to certain death for leaving her alone tomorrow."

"You were still planning to take me to meet her?"

"Among other things," he said. "Syd, I know you said you weren't ready, but, well, I figured it was like a cold pool. You've got to jump in and once you get past the initial shock, its fine."

"No, I think I just had cold feet."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," he laughed, warming my heart from across an ocean. "Let me just give you her address. God, she's going to be thrilled. I know this doesn't make up for me not being there, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Oh, I'm sure I can. It wasn't his fault he'd been called out last-minute. I just felt bad for him; he'd gone through so much, planned so much, and now, he wasn't even going to be around to give it to me. Fate certainly acted independently of desire, and he was getting the short end of the stick. Maybe, if I quickly drafted a letter to Santa, I could not only help give him a break for once, but find out once and for all what his wish was, because as it stood now, he was never going to tell me.

--

Please don't kill me. TRUST in Kira. I'm nicer than JJ. :) See you all next week with the last chapter!