Warning: Sally Po-centric, angst, hope, friendship

December 24th

Carols for the Lost

When she was a child there had been carolers at Christmas. Her father would bundle her up in a snowsuit and mittens and take her to watch the singers gather outside. Then lighting candles, they would walk from house to house caroling.

Sometimes people would give the carolers drinks, hot chocolate or a small flask would be passed around.

A drink for grownups her father had told her.

Now she sat at her desk on Christmas Eve and remembered those nights. Her father had died when she was fifteen, shot down by an Oz soldier. Nobody seemed to have Christmas cheer anymore, Sally hadn't heard a caroler in years and the idea of people knocking on doors was ridiculous.

The only thing remaining was the drink for grownups. She poured a little of the whiskey from her flask into the coffee cup on her desk and raised a toast.

Here's to you dad.

On her desk were piles of papers, files and pencils scattered about. She was working on tracking down a child slave ring. The missing children folders lay open accusingly in front of her. None of these children would be spending Christmas with their families. Some of these children didn't even have families. No one to care for the lost and forgotten.

I would sing you a Christmas song.

She flipped through the folders, taking notes and sipping her spiked coffee. At home her cat would be pacing the floor. Nobody else was waiting for her. She always missed her father during this time of the year. He'd loved the decorations and snow, driving her mom crazy by playing Christmas music in the house and car non-stop for the entire month of December.

After her father had died her mother had stopped doing anything at Christmas. A few years after his death, she had become sick and passed away as well.

Sally would hate the holiday if she didn't feel it would somehow disappoint the memory of her dad.

She rubbed her eyes, tired and moved to another file in the stack. There had to be a link between these children. It was there, she just wasn't seeing it. More than anything she wanted to bring these children home safely, even if they didn't make in time for the holidays.

Outside it was snowing. Her watch beeped the hour and she glanced down, surprised it was already ten o' clock. The Commander had looked in before she left, telling Sally to go home. That there wasn't anything Sally could do about the case till after the holidays. That she was doing the best she could. That she needed to take a rest because working herself into the ground wasn't going to get the children found any sooner.

Sally knew that. But the children did not. The children who wouldn't have stockings or presents, hot chocolate or dreams of Santa Claus.

If I knew where you were, I'd bring you home.

She blinked away frustrated tears. She was tired that was all. It was the holidays. Nobody gave a damn about anyone anymore.

When the words on the page blurred and teardrops smudged some of the ink, she gave up and dropped her head into her hands. What had happened to the world since she was a little girl? Where had the carolers gone? Where had the spirit her father loved so much disappeared to?

She was glad her father wasn't there to see her. This Christmas, her failure . . . it would have broken his heart.

Straightening, she picked up the next folder. She couldn't give up. This was her job, this was her duty. If she didn't continue there wouldn't be anyone to bring these children home. She nodded to herself firmly and went back to work.

Several hours later she stopped writing, puzzled. Her office door was closed but she thought she heard singing for some reason. She looked up, eyes unfocused as she tried to hear the faint sound. It was definitely singing, and it was getting closer.

Standing up, she pushed her chair back and walked to the front of her desk, staring at the closed door. Muffled footsteps approached from the other side and then there was a loud knock. She looked around the office but the walls didn't offer any information so she strode over and pulled open the door.

Wufei was standing there with a ridiculous Santa hat on. Heero was leaned against him, a scarf knitted in green, red and white, wrapped around his neck. Arms draped over their shoulders, was Duo, also wearing a thick scarf. Behind him stood Quatre and Trowa both dressed in Santa hats as well.

While she stared at them wide-eyed, they grinned and began to sing.

Listening to a slightly off-key rendition of "Here We Come A-Wassailing", she slumped against the frame and laughed and cried. Wufei handed her a tissue and Duo passed over a candy cane. She blew her nose, stuck the candy cane in her mouth and watched as they marched into her office still singing.

Outside, the snow continued to fall and the temperature dropped. Inside, the windows fogged up as the young men and Sally passed the small flask around, laughter filling the office. Folders were no longer piled on the desk but spread out on the floor.

Quatre stood in front of a whiteboard drawing arrows connecting names with places and occasionally wiping one off. Heero typed away at her computer, calling out locations. Duo was on the phone, talking to some of his street contacts while Trowa and Wufei crouched on the floor, organizing the folders by area and cross-checking time frames.

She wouldn't get the children home in time for Christmas. But they would be home for New Years. Wufei and the others had promised. And Sally had faith in them, because they were the boys that saved the world twice.

Sally didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore, but she believed in them. And that belief gave her the strength to make a promise of her own.

When the children were found, there wouldn't be sirens and spinning lights. There wouldn't be television crews or pointing fingers. There would be snow and warm red blankets. There would be hot chocolate and carols.

She looked around the room and smiled. She already had her volunteers.