A/N:

Hello, dear readers: At last the story is complete. FWOMP! (falls into a flower bed of daffodils in relief). This chapter became longer than expected, yet all the set-ups will be paid off.

At last, the Forger Family Comes to Xmas Eve. Will be it be as wonderful as they hope? Yuri's meeting the family...will he stay in line? Can Anya get Uncle Yuri to try that pretzel and help Papa focus on fun and Christmas? Will Yuri get the satisfaction of seeing how the family likes his gifts, especially Yor? And his potato salad. Because it's not Christmas for Yuri unless they have his potato salad...

Kudos to Agent Curly for giving me the idea to incorporate more of Yuri. Here's your Yuri-centric chaper, Agent Curly. Thank you for your patience.

Spoiler Warning: slight references to manga chapter 86.

Enjoy!


O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, how lovely are thy branches...

Christmas Eve! Only one chocolate left to eat in the advent calendar, and it would be Christmas. The fir tree picked by Anya and Papa, just a little taller than her and full of bushy branches to be filled with ornaments and lights, stood ready in the living room. Bond sniffed it with curiosity.

In the fridge was a fat goose ready to be stuffed and cooked for Christmas dinner by Papa, and Mama choppity-chopped food in the kitchen. She chopped so fast everything was done for the sharcuteerry plate and she cubed meat and scooped it into bowls for something called Meat Fondoo, where you got to stab meat with poky spear things, and cook it in a hot broth. Like those little sausages there, Anya's favorite.

They never had goose at the orphanage, just Christmas Carp. That was overcooked and somewhat burned. She couldn't remember eating goose...had she ever? Mama said goose tasted savory and a little sweet, like dark chicken meat, but richer. Since it was usually the two of them, she and Uncle Yuri settled for roasted chicken or fish, served with cabbage and Uncle Yuri's potato salad. Uncle Yuri was a potato salad con-oo-soor and he'd made a stink when Mama had asked him not to make it this Christmas Eve, for he said he might work late. Such a stink Mama had groaned when she hung up the phone.

"That Yuri...he kept going on and on about how it won't be Christmas if we don't have our potato salad. He threatened to stay home. I'm so sorry."

"Should I not make any? Would that help?" Papa asked.

"I don't know."

Anya put her hands on her hips. "Uncle Yuri's way too jealous. He should be happy about getting more presents." Her parents gave her a look. "I mean, having more fun on Christmas."

Papa sighed. "Tell him to bring the salad, if it makes him feel better. I'll make a little less. You could tell him we're looking forward to his company. Maybe that'll help?"

"Don't worry, Loid, Yuri will come. We wouldn't dream of being without each other on Christmas...we've always been together. I'll talk to him. And tell him to bring our salad."

"I do hope he'll be pleasant." Papa smiled when he said this, yet Anya knew it wasn't only for the sake of a nice Forger Family Christmas, he fretted over Uncle Yuri' suspicions about him.

Then the oven timer buzzed and they all decided to forget about it and sample Papa's latest batch of cookies, Vanilla Crescents.

After poking around the fifth time to see where her parents had hidden the gifts and if the Christkind had delivered any presents early, Anya gave up the search. She knew better than to look in Mama and Papa's rooms when Mama had a knife in her hand.

She joined Mama in the kitchen. "Can I help?"

"Hello, sweetie. You can get the cookies and pretzels and arrange them pretty on plates."

Anya bounded off to get the pretzels and snuck a handful of nuts from the sharcuteerry plate and a taste of Papa's potato salad, piled in a green bowl in the fridge. It took all her strength not to sneak a pretzel. Both kinds looked so plump and tasty, how could Uncle Yuri not want to try them?

Anya arranged them. "Mama, will Uncle Yuri be good?"

"Don't worry, Anya, I talked to him."

"But Uncle Yuri doesn't always get along with Papa."

"He'd better, or he'll have me to deal with." Mama gave the meat one last swift chop. "Besides, I have a surprise that'll make him really happy."

"A surprise?"

"You'll see. When we decorate the tree."

Bond looked at Anya. "You don't know, Bond? Or are you waiting for Mama to give you food?"

"Shoo, Bond." Mama gave him a gentle shove with her foot. A meat chunk dropped and he gobbled it up. Bond knew it was Christmas Eve, too.

Mama cleaned up, and they decorated the tree. In Mama's family everyone helped and too bad Papa couldn't be here, but he was coming home from the hospital earlier than usual. They left aside some cookie hearts, his gold glass ornament and some shiny gold origami stars Anya had folded—precisely eight. The tree glistened with its holiday dressing of Anya's star topper, Mama's crocheted garlands, the lace and wood ornaments, the glass baubles and the silvery tinsel.

Mama flipped open the lid of a cardboard box. "This is my surprise. I found it in my things. See?"

"Ornaments?"

"From when Yuri and I were kids, and some we made."

"Wow." Anya rifled through the tissue paper, lifting out angels, pine-cones, hearts, a rose...even a cute winter hat made from yarn.

"I can show you how to make that. You don't even need to knit it."

Anya put them away with care. These were cool.

. . .

Yuri Briar huffed, sweaty and red-faced, before the Forgers' apartment door, balancing his bags of gifts, a bottle of Gluhwein, and his bowl of potato salad. His supervisor had to slap him with extra work, as everybody else got out early. In his rush to get to the Forgers, he'd forgotten the gifts. Then he almost forgot the potato salad. There went his chance to decorate the tree with Yor. And to bug the apartment.

Yuri wiped his forehead and put on a pleasant smile.

The door flew open. "Merry Christmas. Come on in, come in."

Three Forgers in turtleneck sweaters, with red plastic bows atop their heads, and their dog, greeted Yuri. What was this? A Christmas movie?

Yuri scowled. Then he remembered his smile. "Merry Christmas to you."

There was a slight scuffle as Bond jumped to sniff his parcels and Chihuahua Girl, at his heels, yanked at him, eager to carry his things.

"Let me help, Uncle Yuri. Mama's got a surprise. Come, see our tree."

"Take it easy, kid."

"I'm so glad you could join us, Yuri. I'll take those." Yor gave Yuri a bright grin and took the packages from his arm. She handed Anya one of the bags.

"Thanks a lot, Yor."

Yor looked cute as always, in her white turtleneck sweater and red plaid skirt, extra cute with that perky plastic bow perched on her hair scarf.

Loid greeted him and helped him hang his coat. How did Loidy manage to look so suave in his cream sweater and two red bows stuck in the same place where Anya had her horns?

"Yuri, you're all red. Did you run straight here?" Yor reached for him.

"Sort of...Here I am and here's the salad."

Yor accepted the bowl. Loidy followed her into the kitchen with the wine.

Anya led Yuri into the living room, chattering on how they went to see the kids' Nativity Play at the church and poof, while they there, the Christkind appeared and put out their gifts. How? She kept a sharp eye on Mama and Papa. Yuri smiled. That was all Yor. She always managed to sneak the gifts under the tree, or maybe the Christkind, with Yor's help. Of course the gold-haired Christkind angel would want the help of an angel like Yor.

The Forger living room had taken on a golden glow with the softly lit tree, Christmas music playing on the Hi-Fi, and the savory smells of the delicious spread set on the coffee table. The tree was fine, laden with its decorated star, the tinsel and baubles, yet something was missing—their ornaments. Yor hadn't found them, had she? Yuri's smile dropped. Here he was, at his own family Christmas Eve party, yet not in his humble apartment with Yor, and in a nice sweater, but it wasn't a turtleneck.

Why did they have to share Christmas with Loidy and Anya?

"Uncle Yuri, I've got a surprise. Close your eyes and kneel."

"Okay, Anya. Whatever." He knelt.

Fwop. Anya dubbed him on the top of his head. A bow. And it was red—like Yor's.

Yuri grinned. In the soft light Anya's cherry red jumper looked nice with her pink hair and her merry green eyes.

"Now you're one us, Uncle Yuri. Merry Christmas."

He searched the room. "Where's the surprise?"

"Right here." Yor opened a box.

"Yor?" He gave an elated cry. "Our ornaments? I thought they were gone."

Did Loidy have to cover his ears? Yuri made a beeline for Yor and wrapped her a tight hug. She dropped the box. Yuri caught it. This was the best, Yor was the absolute best, and it was Christmas.

Yuri released Yor. "Where'd you find them?"

"I just forgot where I'd packed them. Want to decorate the tree with me?"

"Of course."

The Forgers gathered at the tree with Yuri, the box open at his knees. With each ornament he pulled out, he shared stories. "Here's your rose from Mom, Yor. These are the snowflakes we cut, yours are so much better. Remember when we made these little winter hats?"

Even Chihuahua Girl took a liking to it, examining all the ornaments. He turned to see Loidy beside them, taking in their enthusiasm with a wistful smile.

"That's wonderful you still have those. I don't have anything like that left from my childhood."

Something in Loidy's tone made Yuri pause. To give him the snowflake he held. To invite Loid in on the decorating. It hung suspended, in his hand.

He set it in the box. "Yes. It really is a treasure."

Anya fixed her eyes on him. She stared. Yuri squirmed.

"Take it." He handed Anya the snowflake, but not before she snatched the knitted hat and put it in her Papa's hand.

Loid gazed at the hat. Then he put it on the tree.

Anya smirked at Yuri. That kid. Was she trying to make him look bad? He gave her two more ornaments and Anya hung them. Yor exchanged a pleased smile with Yuri. He shrugged. Why gripe?

He got to decorate with Yor. They had his special potato salad—Mom's recipe—and after they opened presents, Yor and Yuri would open the mulled wine and sing carols. Like they always did.

Loidy and Anya were trying to be pleasant. Yuri sighed and kept the smile on his face.

. . .

Anya swung her legs, sitting between Papa and Mama on the couch. Uncle Yuri sat in the side chair, making conversation with Mama and Papa. Was this what family Christmas Eve was like? A living room picnic, lit by the tree's light, while you got to cook food at the table and eat it? Yummy.

Mama and Papa took turns supervising Anya as she speared a sausage and stuck in in the bubbling fondue broth in the blue enamel pot, lit with a little fire underneath. The grown-ups behaved. No one poked anyone with their fondoo forks, they all said please and thank you and complimented the food. That was easy, with all these crunchy and salty and meaty and creamy things to nosh on.

She discovered she liked potato salad best when it wasn't made with mayo. Anya nibbled Papa's and Yuri's. He must be a con-oo-soor, since his salad was good like Papa's. Papa's had bacon bits. She ate these with relish. Uncle Yuri's had chive bits, which she picked off. Pretzels, both kinds, were handy to scoop up bits of potato salad.

Papa was the problem. A small corner of his mind kept on work, watching Uncle Yuri, and another part felt sad, maybe because of Uncle Yuri and the ornaments? Papa tried to not think about it. While he focused on making sure everyone else had a nice time, he forgot to have fun. Too bad...she had to keep Uncle Yuri under scrootiny.

Uncle Yuri had a bit of everything on his plate, even Papa's salad, except a Belvarian-style pretzel. He munched a Swaburnian one now. "These pretzels have just the right amount of softness and crunchiness. I have to hand it to you, Loid. You can cook."

"Thank you. I like to perfect a recipe when I can."

Mama rubbed a weepy eye. "I'm so sorry, Yuri, I can't make good pretzels."

"Sis, stop that. You know I adore your cookies."

"Aww...I made a special batch just for you."

Anya took her chance. "Uncle Yuri, want to share a pretzel with me? Here you go." Anya broke of a bit of Belvarian pretzel and gave him some.

"Thanks..." Uncle Yuri laid it on his plate.

–I can't say no. Not with Yor and Loidy watching. I'll toss it when Anya's not looking.

Anya ate hers and huffed, puffing her bangs. That Uncle Yuri. If you are the potato salad con-oo-soor, my Papa is the con-oo-soor of all good cooking. You're gonna try Papa's Belvarian Pretzel, and like it...cause Papa's version is inspired by the realest, bestest Belvarian pretzel of all.

Just you wait and see.

. . .

The pretzel remained untasted on Uncle Yuri's plate. He condescended to take more of Loidy's bacon-seasoned potato salad. Delicious, yes. Southern Ostania's were prime—no bacon at all, just a hot, mustardy vinegar dressing poured over the potatoes, left to soak right in.

Mom's recipe was the best. He should know.

He'd sampled many potato salads in restaurants and delis, some quite good. Yor's version of Mom's salad had its own category. It was brown, with an acid bite, yet it had that certain Yor flavor that made him blarff in joy, and that could be forgiven.

Yor said his version brought back memories of Mom—the best compliment of all.

Yuri managed to work in a good-natured discussion with Loid on how to make the best potato salad, and while it looked like argument at times, it was mere discussion. Loidy was an encyclopedia of cooking knowledge.

He kept his mouth in a tight line when Yuri insisted (yet again) Mom's recipe was the best. If only he'd admit it. Loidy, I've beat you...this time.

Yor patted her belly. "I'm stuffed. Everything's so good. Thanks for bringing your salad, Yuri."

"It's not Christmas without it, Sis."

Loid arose. "How about I clear these things up and bring out the coffee and dessert?"

"Let me help you." Yor shifted to rise.

"Presents? When can we do presents?" Anya asked.

"Soon, Anya. First, help me clean up. Go ahead and rest, Yor. Take it easy with Yuri."

"I appreciate that, thanks, Loid."

Anya gathered the plates with speed, anticipating the best hour of the night, the gift exchange. Yuri stretched and plopped down by Yor. He passed Loid a bowl.

"You do make a pretty good potato salad."

Loidy smiled. "Yours is good too."

"The flavor is superior when you let the dressing soak in, not stir it in."

"For Southern Potato Salad." Did Loidy's face twitch?

"Did your mom make it with bacon?" Yuri ignored Yor's warning grip on his arm.

"I think that's how she did it. Sometimes with mayonnaise, too." Loidy held both bowls of potato salad, with a frown that said he was ready to get on with clean up.

Yuri leaned back, his hands behind his head. "Admit it, already. Mine's better. It got eaten more."

"What?" Loidy arched his brows.

Anya's eyes shot back and forth between them, her plates clenched. Even Yor leaned forward, her mouth open in question.

Yuri waved a hand. "Let's call it a friendly contest. You like yours better since it's how your mom did it, your family recipe, maybe? But Mom perfected her recipe. I perfected it more. It's number one."

"Who said it was a contest?" Loid turned for the kitchen, followed by Anya, clutching her plates.

"Yuri...let it go." Yor squeezed his arm. Tight. And hard.

"Sis, clearly I've bested him. Loidy sees it. I bet he told you to tell me not to make it."

"Goodness, Yuri. I told you not to make it. Loid said said you could."

Some sharp footsteps followed by scurried tapping ones got their attention.

Loidy stood before Yuri, eyes narrowed, holding a cookbook: Elisabette's Everyday Home Cookery. A common cookbook found in many Ostanian kitchens.

"Here's where I found the recipe. It's not my mother's recipe." He chucked the book at Yuri. Yuri ducked. The book thumped on the empty couch seat beside him.

"I have none of my mother's recipes. They all died with her in the air raid. Excuse me."

Yuri removed his hands from his face when he heard the bedroom door shut with a click. Yor jerked a fondue skewer at him, her eyes sharper than its tips.

"Now you've done it, Yuri."

Anya scampered to Yor's protection. "Uncle Yuri, you big meanie."

"It's just a joke, yeah? A fun contest?" His words died, silenced by Anya's quivery lips and Yor's scarlet stare. Anya started to bawl.

Dangit. He had done it. And on Christmas Eve.

. . .

Anya cried beside Mama. Uncle Yuri deserved it. Picking on Papa like that? It was worth seeing Uncle Yuri squirm, with his mouth in a big, shocked "O".

Papa didn't cry, at least she'd never seen him cry. He didn't like to see kids cry. If something could make Papa cry, it would be the same thing that brought Anya to tears—thinking of her lost parents. His lost parents...she sensed his thoughts from afar, the light in them dimmed, with muddled grey memories.

"How rude, Yuri."

"I'm sorry. I made a big fat mistake and should've kept my mouth shut...even if our salad is...better?"

Mama jabbed the skewer. "Yuri."

"I-I'm sorry, Yor. I upset Christmas Eve."

Anya clenched her fists and bawled harder. Maybe this was overkill.

"...And I'm sorry I upset Loid and made you cry, Anya. H-how can I make it up to you?"

Anya made a show of wiping her face with Mama's hanky, and giving a pouty, sighing sniff like she'd seen kids do on TV. "You could..."

"What? I'll do almost anything."

"You could...eat a pretzel."

Uncle Yuri broke an arm off a Swaburnian one and chomped it. "Happy?"

Anya crossed her arms. "No."

"What do you want, kid?"

Anya gave him an innocent smile. "I want you to eat that one." She pointed to a Belvarian pretzel.

"Anything but that."

"It's a pretzel, Yuri. Eat it." Mama thrust the skewer at Uncle Yuri.

"S-settle down Sis. I'll eat it. For you." He stuffed half the Belvarian-style pretzel in his mouth. He chewed, glaring. Anya wanted to clap and cheer. She kept quiet. Uncle Yuri chewed. He stopped, his eyes alight and awed.

"It's goohhdff..." He gobbled the other half.

"Eat slower, or you'll choke." Mama dropped the skewer and thrust him a glass of water.

Uncle Yuri gulped the water and reached for another of Papa's Belvarian-style pretzels. "So good."

"Yeah...they're the best..." Anya's face dropped.

She hadn't expected it to be this easy. Her revenge for Papa tasted less sweet. Far less when Uncle Yuri agreed to help her clean up. He even suggested he and Anya could be the gift-passers. Anya agreed with a meek nod.

When Papa returned, the table was spread with dessert, coffee, hot Gluhwein and mulled punch, with Yuri and Anya by the tree, splitting up the gifts. Papa slipped in quietly and sat by Mama.

It took Mama a moment to notice him next to her. One of the bows on his head had fallen off, the other askew. He smiled a lusterless smile at Mama's merry greeting and said he was fine, but his thoughts weren't bright like Mama's.

—I suppose it's best to call a truce. They did that during the first Great War, when they called a truce on Christmas Eve? The next day they were at it again, like dogs. Yuri's fine now...he'll be at me soon enough.

Uncle Yuri glanced at Papa and rubbed his neck. "You're back, Loid? Say...sorry about that. That was pretty dumb. I didn't mean to upset you. It's Christmas Eve, yeah?"

Papa nodded. "It's Christmas. Apology accepted."

Anya tried to keep her jaw from dropping. Papa forgave that easy? She grabbed a lumpy wrapped ball for Papa. He needed to be the first to open a present. Her gift might cheer him.

"...Anya had me try your pretzel, the West one? Now, I'm picky about pretzels and I've never tried those West invaders before, but yours? It's great. About as good as your East one. Here you go."

Uncle Yuri tossed Papa a gift.

Papa caught it, his brows up in surprise. "Appreciated, Yuri."

Mama gave Papa an inquiring look, and squeezed his knee. He answered Mama with an acknowledging nod and pat her hand. He was okay. Anya pouted. Uncle Yuri had to beat her to it.

Papa opened the present. Some men's white shirts. "Very nice."

A truce? All this talk of "very nice", "I'm okay", "I'm sorry?" Was this the grownups' way of trying to keep peace and goodwill? Because it was Christmas Eve, and they didn't want to fight? This seemed right because Anya did feel better when she and Second Son shared the tea cakes and acted kind...even if he called "peasant" in the next breath. That made her mad, but she didn't want to stay mad. Cherishing a friend, even if he acted dumb, was better than staying mad. Grown-ups were hard to read.

"Anya, want to open a present?" Papa asked.

She forgot her frown. Presents? Uncle Yuri passed her a gift wrapped in paper decorated with blue, silver and gold bells. She tore into it. A Papa-knit scarf and hat. A fuzzy, snowy-white scarf with a matching beret, and a sunny yellow scarf with pom-pons...for her.

"Papa, thank you." She tossed them on. "I love them."

Papa smiled and Mama said how sweet Uncle Yuri had to admit they were pretty.

"I'm glad you think they're so nice, Anya." Papa said.

"Because you made them for me, Papa."

Nice? How about wonderful? Papa made her this scarf, softer than Bond, probably while doing his feelings doctor or spy stuff. All that effort, and care for her. Not some mission.

Papa must care.

Mama beckoned Anya and whispered, "Let's give the guys their afghans next."

"Good idea, Mama."

Mama took Uncle Yuri's and Anya took Papa's. Maybe Papa would see how much they cared, too.

. . .

Uncle Yuri held the squashy package in its crinkly paper, with a lopsided bow. Loidy had a similar package from Chihuahua Girl. Yor beamed, waiting. Yuri tore the paper off in one large chunk.

"A blanket? Sis, it's amazing. And these colors, how'd you know I needed one? My feet keep getting cold when I keep kick off my blanket. Thank you."

He threw it over his shoulders, like a cape.

Yor smiled. "Everyone can use a good blanket."

"I helped make it too," Anya said. "It's grandma squares."

"Granny squares, you mean?" Yuri eyed Anya. "Explain, kiddo."

Anya showed her part. "These are mine. It's for my winter project at school. Mama taught me how, she's the master."

Yuri examined Chihuahua Girl's squares. "You pass, I approve. Sis, you're a good teacher."

"Yuri, you're too kind."

Anya looked between them. "Can Papa open his gift now?"

Chihuahua Girl...Still, she'd showed some initiative to study and learn a skill from Sis. He was curious to see what Loidy got. Yuri hugged his blanket round his shoulders.

Loidy sliced the paper open at the seam with his hand. The wrapping fell away. Loidy made no exclamations. He held up the blanket, laid it in his lap and smoothed it. Loidy's neutral-toned blanket wasn't done. He must be struck speechless by Yor's skill. He gazed at it.

"Thank you, Yor."

"Do you like it?"

"I do. Quite fine. The colors, too."

"I'm sorry I couldn't finish it by Christmas. I do have more squares ready, though."

"Don't worry about it, Yor. I appreciate the work you did do. I know you'll finish it."

"Papa, did you see the squares I made? They're on that side."

"I see. Good work, Anya."

"You too, Papa."

"What?"

"This." Anya swished her scarf tail. Loidy smiled, the first actual smile he'd made since he returned. Yor was right, he could use a blanket. Yor blushed. Yuri took that moment to pass another gift.

Everyone had good words for their presents, and Yuri was most pleased by approving words his gifts got. Anya found his dress cute, and oohed over the toy. Loidy found the socks nice, Yor insisted she could wait to open hers. There was a matching white scarf for Yor from Loidy, and everyone loved the little cookie tins from him, but Yuri had two, one,from Yor. Anya was delighted with the toys from her parents and her granny square poncho set, and Yor tied on Anya's crochet headband. Loidy had knit him a fine black turtleneck sweater. Now he'd match the Forgers. Black suited him. Good choice.

There were only two big gifts left, both for Yor. Yuri held his big box in his hands, images of her adoring reaction in his mind. She might swoon. She might gasp and cry for joy. Loidy had a smaller box.

If that gift of his made Yor cry...

Yuri insisted Loidy go first. Yor said it didn't matter. Yuri shook his head. Best for last. Yor accepted Loidy's gift with a blush and undid the red holly-berry paper. She lifted the lid off and gasped. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Yor blinked them away.

She held the cranberry mohair sweater to herself. "It's...beautiful."

"Sis? You okay?" Yuri's hands tensed on the armrests. He gave Loidy a side-glare.

Loidy reached for her. "Yor?"

Anya searched her pocket for a hanky, and held a crumpled one out to Yor

Yor wiped her tears. "I'm fine, guys. It's been so long since someone made something for me."

"It suits you?"

"Very much, Loid. Thank you."

"I'm glad." He gave Yor this tiny gentle smile.

Yor stifled a cry when she lifted a second thing from the box, in a paper envelope. A flash of silver. Her eyes filled again. She cupped it in her hand, the pink rising in her cheeks. She slipped the silver thing into her skirt pocket. Loidy and Yor caught each other's eyes.

"You like it?" Loidy asked.

Yor gave an embarrassed laugh. "It's a beautiful present...thank you."

He shrugged. "Just a little something extra to thank you for your hard work."

Yor patted her pocket with a knowing, shy nod.

Yuri leaned forward to get a better look. It was too deep in Yor's pocket, with her hand over it. What was that silver thing? Why all shy? They're married.

If only he had x-ray vision contacts. Such a thing would make interrogations easier. If he gave the faintest hint of asking Yor about it, it might embarrass her and he'd get a flying whirlwind of a slap. Like when like he demanded Yor and Loidy kiss in front of him.

That's it. He'd embarrassed Yor and she was bashful of doing anything lovey-dovey with Loidy in front of him. Yuri felt a twinge in his side. Maybe he shouldn't have demanded proof from Sis like that.

Anya had found a small package under the tree just for her. She eagerly undid its wrappings and opened the box with a squeal of joy.

"How pretty! A silver heart? Mama, put it on me."

Yor fastened the necklace on Anya. Anya put her chest out so all could admire its silvery shine and sparkle. She flitted to Loidy.

"I love it, Papa, where'd you find it?"

"At the Christmas Market. It was too pretty to pass up."

Chihuahua Girl hugged his neck in thanks. Under this commotion, Yor's present in his hands, Yuri nodded to himself. A necklace. Was Yor's a heart? Or a rose? She did love roses.

Then he cleared his breath. "Ahem. Yor and the Forgers, thank you for having me over. Despite some mishaps, it's been delightful. Sis, this is for you. Just a token of my infinite thanks for all your hard work in raising me. It pales in the debt of gratitude I owe." He knelt and handed Yor the gift.

"Yuri, stop," Yor said with a giggle. Did Loidy roll his eyes? And Chihuahua Girl made a face? She shook the box, listening to the heavy swish and faint thunk. "What can it be?"

"Open it, Sis." Yuri pressed his hands together.

Yor undid the bow with a gentle pull, and removed the expensive wrapping with care as to not to tear it. Tears glittered in the corners of her eyes. "Oh my...it's gorgeous."

Yor cocooned herself in the coat. How warm and soft, and the color. Yor spun around and showed it off, with a lovely grin.

Anya clapped her hands. "Mama, it's chick."

"Chic, Anya. Quite sleek and chic, Yor." Loidy's eyes were filled with admiration.

Yuri was filled with warmth, rapt with Yor's joy. Yor patted the pocket and pulled out the perfume.

"Le Eau de Rose Rouge? Isn't this expensive?"

"Only the best for you, Sis."

"I'll try it right now." Yor uncapped the rose stopper and dabbed some on her wrists and neck, and the coat collar. The scent of a rose bouquet filled the room. "It smells so good."

That red coat. It has been worth the three hours' shopping struggle. Everyone's eyes were on Yor, and it suited her so well, more than Loidy's white scarf draped around her neck...though it paired well.

Yor let her happy tears fall. "Thank you everyone, it's all so wonderful. It's the loveliest Christmas I've had in years and I'm glad I can share it with all of you."

Everyone had to agree. Then Yor laid a hand on his shoulder. Yuri glanced up.

"Yuri? Even when you act like a dummy, you're the nicest brother a girl could ask for. Thank you for the coat and the perfume." She kissed the top of his head.

"Y-y-yor!" Shooting stars and something like a dessert bursting into flambe exploded in Yuri. He rocketed in a whiz of joy and took Yor by the hands.

"This is the best Christmas." He danced with Yor, and Anya joined them. He bellowed "Every Year Again" for this was a house full of blessings. Anya danced along. Bond went in circles, barking and barking. Even Loidy laughed and topped off the wine and punch.

This was cause to sing carols loud. This was a celebration.

. . .

What a giddy whirl of joy. Anya flopped on the floor in happy exhilaration, smiling at her silver heart necklace. Mama's was a silver rose. She felt too shy to wear it, but kept it in her pocket like a happy secret. Anya felt proud to wear hers, it proclaimed the truth. For all his calling them fake, Papa cared.

She patted Bond to settle him down, and felt a zip—Uncle Yuri mad? At who? He was happy and jolly, toasting everyone with his wine. What could bother Uncle Yuri now?

Bond sniffed the floor. He searched and barked.

"Papa, I think Bond's looking for his present."

"Where'd you move it, Yor?"

"Here it is." Mama, still in her red coat, brought a wrapped thing from the kitchen.

Papa knelt with the gift and commanded Bond. "Hold steady. Here, Bond."

Bond would not have any of it. He borfed and leapt for the gift Papa held aloft in his right hand. His nails dug, scratching into Papa's arm.

"Down, Bond—yowwch." Papa gripped his right arm in pain. He dropped the gift. Bond got it and carefully tore the paper with his teeth, and trotted in the corner with his reward, a meaty bone.

Papa scolded Bond while Mama scooted Bond toward the kitchen, who looked all too glad to get away from Papa's angry shouts.

Uncle Yuri set down his glass with a thunk.

The pretzels...now this? Loidy grabbing his arm again where I saw it twitch once. Don't tell me—Twilight?

He leaned forward, glowering, focused on Papa. Anya froze. Bad doggy Bond. His nails scratched where Papa had his secret gun shot scar, the one he covered with long sleeves or the fake skin stuff he used for his disguises. All Anya knew, Papa had gotten the shot last month, the same day she was at the zoo, when Papa chased down some enemy spy who'd pretended to be from WISE. Uncle Yuri had been there with the SSS chasing after the West spies. He didn't know Papa had been there. Papa had no disguises to hide him from Uncle Yuri now.

"Papa, do you need a doctor? Or band-aids and boo-boo medicine?"

Papa blinked. "A doctor? I can take care of it."

"Does it hurt? Bond scratched you."

"I'm fine." Papa pressed his arm. "Darn Bond...I guess it's my fault."

Uncle Yuri frowned. "You know dogs have a good sense of smell."

Anya and Papa stared at Uncle Yuri. Papa kept his hand on Anya. Uncle Yuri's brows knit together. His mind made fast connections between Papa's precise pretzel making and the cowinkydental timing of the SSS needing to smooth over the pretzel-recipe stealing fiasco and the mess they had getting the greedy owner to apologize. Loidy's pretzels were too perfect.

Uncle Yuri rose. His hand brushed against something woolen and black. He drew it up. The sweater Papa had knit for Uncle Yuri. He stared at it.

Loidy's gift. He knit it, for me. Why would Twilight make me a sweater? And such a handsome sweater. His arm? Maybe the wine's getting to me.

"Was there something you wanted?" Papa kept a straight face. Anya felt the tension in Papa's back where her hand rested upon his shoulder.

"I—" Uncle Yuri put on his grin. "Thanks for making me this nice sweater. I was wondering if I could change into it. Maybe in the bathroom?"

"You can use it after I check this. That was a close call." Relief melted into Papa's back and face.

Uncle Yuri smirked. "I'd say."

"Silly Papa, you should've given Bond his gift first."

"Then you would've been barking for your gift." Papa gave Anya a friendly wink and went to check his arm. Anya made a startled face at Uncle Yuri, who snickered. He imagined her as a barking Chihuahua in a red dress.

Anya settled back to playing with her toys with a tight smile. Let Uncle Yuri think silly things. She'd saved Christmas. Better he think that than know Papa was Twilight.

. . .

It was the night before Christmas and much stirred in the Forger house, yet Papa sat on the couch, quieter than a mouse. Yor and Uncle Yuri, arm in arm, raised joyful choruses of Christmas Carols, their cheeks flushed as red at Yor's holly-berry coat, while Bond, snug in the kitchen, gnawed on his bone, and Anya, with visions of Christmas tomorrow in her head, settled to play with her new toys before bed.

Papa sat on the couch, not stirring, quieter than a mouse.

His eyes were shut, his head hung back, his afghan from Mama half in his lap. He didn't see the golden-lit room, the strewn paper and the munched Stollen and cookies, nor did Mama and Uncle Yuri's raucous singing rouse him.

–Just another hour...Does it even matter? I might not be here next year...what a hypocrite I am.

Anya knocked down her block tower. Papa? Where was he last year, on Christmas Eve? Last year Anya had been at the orphanage, hugging her new kitty toy and old Mr. Chimera tight, shivering under the thin quilts in the bed she shared with another girl, hoping the other kids wouldn't find her stash of hidden Christmas candy and nuts. How could she help him? All he thought of was going to bed.

A lumpy ball wrapped in gold paper remained under the tree. Anya grabbed it. She poked his knee.

"Papa?"

"What is it?" Papa lifted his head.

"My gift, for you."

Papa pulled her into his lap with the gift.

"Don't open it yet." She looked into Papa's tired blue eyes. Something in her eyes wanted to spill over her cheeks. She blinked to stop it. It rolled out—two fat, quiet tears, coming down her face.

"What's wrong?" Papa put his hand on her back.

"Papa? I want you to stay."

"Anya?" Papa's breath snatched. His hand was tight on her.

"Christmas..." The tears must be shining in her green eyes.. "I want it to stay like this. Us, together."

There were too many things going on in his eyes. It was hard to say what she meant.

"I see." He said it tender, like it hurt.

Anya blinked, silent. Papa put his sweater sleeve over his hand and wiped away her tears. The wool scratched, but it was also soft and warm from Papa.

"There, there. Chin up." He offered her a weak smile.

"Papa, open it.."

He pulled off the paper "It's...the yarn I gave you."

"A scarf. For you."

"You knit this?"

"Me, and Mama a little. Mostly me. I know it isn't done."

Papa passed his hand over the wide strip of Garter Snake stitch. Anya's rows weren't holey or wobbly. They were neat. Papa smiled. "Good job. You've come a long way, Anya."

Anya brightened. "Papa? Could you knit with me?"

He passed the yarn fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "Why not."

Anya scooted herself so he could reach round her to knit. Encircled in the hug of Papa's arms, the work in their laps, Anya slowly knit a row. Papa took the needles. His long fingers knit fast. They traded, taking turns. Anya, Papa. Papa's scarf, from the orange yarn he gave her—made with Mama's rows, Anya's rows, and Papa's rows. A family scarf.

"Papa, do you think I could present our scarf? I could finish it if you and Mama help. Would Professor Henderson be okay with that?"

"I think he would find it...quite elegant." She heard Papa's smile.

Papa asked if she liked the color. Anya did, it made her happy. As they knit together, Anya saw the picture in Papa's mind. Papa, a little younger, in dark spy clothes, with a lady in spy clothes and a brown ponytail. They were waiting. And knitting? By the way he laughed with the lady, she was his friend...maybe more than his friend? He felt sad, but he also felt happier. Why? Maybe because his good lady spy-friend was gone and Papa was sad because he didn't have someone to knit with? Now he did.

As he finished his row, Papa softly chuckled.

–It's not like this is the first time I've considered changing plans. Stay for next Christmas? More? Maybe.

Anya snuggled closer and took her turn. Stay? Maybe? He wanted to stay. She grinned bright.

"Papa, you knit with your Mama. Now you're knitting with me, your daughter."

"You're right." Papa laughed. "It's fun."

Anya reached back to hug Papa. Since his hands were full of knitting, he did his best to hug her.

"Our first Christmas...how's it so far?"

"The best. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, Anya. It's good to be..."

"...Together." Anya piped up at the same time with Papa.

They were going to have a great Christmas day. All the Christmases. Next year, the one after that, and more. Anya just knew. Knitting hadn't ruined her first family Christmas.

It made it better. Better than she could've ever imagined—the best gift of all.


A/N: And it's complete! I hope you enjoyed that, dear reader.

Up next in the works is a Loi/Yor story with some romance, from Yor's POV. And some shorter Loi/Yor stories. Part of the reason for the delay of this story was working on those stories and reworking one.

I enjoy writing about Anya and Papa Loid's relationship. Regarding the Winston Wheeler Mole arc, my head canon is that it takes place in November. Since it's Christmas, Loid allows himself to feel those emotions of care brewing in him. Once January and exam time come, he regresses back into guarded work mode.

It's taken five years for the manga to cover four months! Like knitting a big project, good things take time.

~Peace.