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Home For The Holidays - by MMB
Miss Parker shivered and pulled her suit jacket closed in front and buttoned it. One of Raines' latest cost-cutting measures at the Centre had been to lower the thermostat for all non-Tower facilities, a move that had included her office. With the snow swirling lazily outside her window in a visual chill, she had taken lately to wearing more substancial sweaters beneath her jackets, and pantyhose beneath her trousers as much for warmth as for style.
It was the day before Christmas Eve, the day of the inevitable and generally unavoidable Centre Christmas buffet and gift exchange - one of her least favorite days of the year. This year, however, she would have given just about anything to duck out before the festivities started because this year she didn't even have the pretense of giving a present to Daddy to hold her there. She had always given him something at the Centre affair, never sure whether he'd keep any of their other holiday appointments after contending with too many last minute cancellations over the years. It had made the festivities bearable, at least.
She had drawn Sydney's name this year - which had made the shopping a little easier, for at least she knew him and his tastes a little bit and could shop intelligently. She had found him a warm turtleneck sweater like the ones he so often enjoyed wearing on these cold winter days, and chosen a color that she hadn't seen him wear before. The package sat in the bottom drawer of her desk, carefully wrapped and waiting for that moment when she could hand it to him, watch him open it, get her thanks and then make her escape.
"Hey, Miss Parker, did you hear the news?" Broots came through her office door without warning, obviously excited or upset about what he'd just heard.
"Hey, Scooby, did you ever learn the fine art of knocking?" she shot back at him with a withering glance. "Why don't you go back out, and..."
"No, wait! Didn't you hear the fire alarms go off early in town this morning?" The man's hazel eyes were wide.
Miss Parker sighed, realizing she wasn't going to be able to give any common courtesy training to her computer wizard until he'd delivered his news. "What is it? Yeah, I kinda remember them waking me up..."
"Well, I just heard!"
"Heard WHAT? For God's sake, spit it out sometime this year, willya?"
"It was Sydney's," he said quietly, and the news did indeed stop Miss Parker's pending tantrum dead in its tracks.
"Say what?"
"I heard Manny talking about it just a minute ago - you know Manny, the guy with only one ear that works down in..."
"BROOTS!"
The balding technician shuddered and got his thoughts back on track. "He says that he's heard on his police scanner that the house was a total loss."
Miss Parker caught his gaze with her grey eyes. "Where's Sydney?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
"H..he didn't come in today..." Broots managed, finally getting to the news he'd been carrying and not knowing how to deliver.
"Shit!" She rose quickly. "Listen, I'm not..." She thought again - her mind running in several directions at once, all of them panicked. She took a deep breath to calm herself down and help her choose one course of action. "I'm going to go find him," she announced finally, walking briskly toward her coat rack. "I probably won't be back for the buffet - so if you can make my apologies for me..."
"Miss Parker?" Broots' voice was small, but it was still there, "Do you want me to go with you?"
She patted his arm, knowing that he was as worried as she was. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything. You hold down the fort for me here - and keep the wolves at bay, OK?"
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker followed the road that led from the Centre back to the narrow highway that passed through Blue Cove with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This can't be happening, she kept thinking to herself as she pressed just infinitesimally harder on the accelerator, disregarding entirely that she was speeding badly already. First Daddy and now... Not Sydney! No!
She took the first street to the east from the highway and wound her way around the well-groomed middle-class residences among which Sydney had nestled his home. She knew the way, having picked him up or dropped him off at his house the few times over the years that his car had needed servicing and wasn't ready for him to get to work the next day. But this was the first time she'd driven there for something other than a simple car pool arrangement. God, not Sydney! It was becoming a refrain in the back of her mind, and a desperate one.
Then she came around the corner; and the sight that met her took her breath away and made her heart sink to her shoes. Sydney's house had been one of several in the development that had been two stories. But no longer. All that was left of the entire dwelling lay in a black and smoldering mess that had fallen into the basement and barely showed above ground. His prized topiary bushes that had nestled close against the house were now but scorched and barren branches that stretched forlornly into the smoke-filled air, with some charred juniper needles showing where they had once been carefully trimmed and manicured.
Miss Parker located and then practically sprinted from behind the wheel of her car to the edge of the yard where the Fire Chief was still directing his men. "What happened here?" she demanded in a voice that would accept nothing but what was requested.
"We're still not sure," the man shrugged. "It burned hotter than most house fires at this time of year, so it could have been deliberately set, but..."
"What about the owner?" she grabbed the man's arm tightly. "What about Sydney?"
"Over there. He was damned lucky to get out of that in one piece!" The overcoated arm lifted and the gloved hand pointed out the attending ambulance parked just down the street. The doors at the back end were open and, sitting in a slump to one side on the bumper, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders, was...
"Sydney!" Miss Parker breathed and then almost but didn't quite break into a relieved trot in getting from the Fire Chief's side to the ambulance. She looked down into dazed, exhausted and defeated chestnut eyes that barely seemed to recognize her at all and put a sympathetic hand down on her old friend's shoulder. "Are you OK? You weren't hurt?"
"Are you family?" The EMT poked his head out of the ambulance at the sound of her voice, then climbed from the vehicle. "We asked him if he had any family we could call, but he hasn't exactly been talking much..."
"No, not family, but a very good friend," Miss Parker answered only partially paying attention to the EMT. Sydney looked horrible, and she couldn't imagine that he wasn't freezing, sitting there in his pajamas and thin robe and well-worn corduroy slippers with only a blanket over him. It was an incredibly chilly day, with snow falling lightly and already dusting his broad shoulders. "How is he?"
The ambulance attendant looked down at his patient and gave a small shrug as he gestured to him. "Other than shock and disorientation, and a little bit of a chill from sitting out here staring rather than sitting in the heated ambulance where I wanted him, there's nothing physically wrong with him. Then again..." The man looked over his shoulder at the mess that had once been a gracious home, "I think I'd be a bit shocked and disoriented too if that was all that was left of MY house..."
"So you don't intend to..."
"No," the EMT waved at her. "Actually, I think it would probably be a good idea to get him away from here for a while, get him someplace warm and safe, where he'd feel at ease. If you can take him with you, that would be great - because otherwise I'll have to transport him into the hospital in Dover until he gets himself coherent again."
"Sounds good to me." Miss Parker bent and grabbed her old friend by the elbow. "C'mon, Sydney, there's nothing more to be seen here right now..." She pulled up and backwards, and finally pulled him far enough off the ambulance bumper that he got to his feet. "My car's this way..."
"Parker?" He seemed to rouse slightly as her touch became an insistent tug and then roused a bit more as he realized she already had an arm wrapped around his back and was steering his faltering steps. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," she told him gently, steering him past the fire engine and towards her Boxster. "I need to get you home before you freeze to death..."
"Home..." The Belgian drew out the word, obviously looking at the disaster that just a few hours ago that had been HIS home. "Gone now, all of it..."
"I know, Sydney, I know. C'mon... Get in the car, please?" She opened the passenger door and virtually manhandled the psychiatrist into the seat, then pulled the seatbelt across him, over the blanket, and secured him. She rushed around to the driver's side and cranked up the car's heater even as she was turning the engine over.
"Where do I go now?" he asked nobody in particular in a tired, plaintive tone. "What do I do..."
"You're coming home with me for the moment," Miss Parker stated decisively and put her vehicle into motion. As she steered past the scene, she could see her old friend crane his neck until the ruin that was once his house passed out of sight behind them, and then he settled back against the head rest of his seat and closed his eyes and shivered. She sighed worriedly, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched the button that dialed Broots' office. "Broots? No, no - slow down. He's OK, and he's with me. But I'm going to take him to my place and take care of him a bit. He's pretty shaky and out of it..."
"Mr. Raines came looking for you," Broots' voice told her in a tone that told her he wasn't anxious to be overheard.
"I'm sure he did," she commented dryly. "Well, as far as he or Mr. Lyle are concerned, I'm out for the rest of the Christmas holiday and would rather not be disturbed."
"Uh, is there anything I can do?" the technician asked shyly.
"Yeah!" Actually, there was one thing... "There's a Christmas present in the bottom right drawer of my desk. Could you bring it by my place on your way home tonight?"
"Sure thing. Anything else?"
She looked over at her passenger again, and knew there were probably a million and one extra errands that she could have Broots run for her, IF only she knew Sydney's clothing sizes. As it was, she still had a few of Thomas' old flannel shirts and pairs of denims in a box at the bottom of her closet, and a similar box of her father's old clothes that just might suffice for the moment. "Not unless you know what size pants he wears..."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "I can... m..make a guess, I suppose," Broots stammered finally.
"Guess on the larger size," she directed him. "Better that he swim in something and have to roll up the pantlegs and cinch in the belt than have it too tight to zip and hitting the high water mark. A razor, hairbrush and toothbrush wouldn't hurt either. Whatever you get, I'll reimburse you when you get to my place."
"I'll take care of it on my way, and don't worry about paying me back - it's for Sydney, after all." Broots thought for a moment. "What about food? You need any food?"
"Nope. On that I'm doing fine." She had purchased a ham and vegetables for a fairly decent meal for herself, large enough that she'd intended for the surfeit of leftovers to keep her fed for days afterwards. With two mouths to feed, the leftovers would go faster, but there'd be enough for a couple of days at least. "That ought to do it."
She disconnected, then shot another worried glance at her passenger. Sydney's face was colorless, and he had drawn the blanket more tightly around him now, shivering. "You were going to freeze to death, sitting out there like that," she scolded him gently. He didn't answer her, but just gave a slightly more pronounced shiver. "Geez!" she muttered to herself anxiously and once more found an excuse to press down just a little heavier on the accelerator.
The ride to the Parker summerhouse that she had taken for her own residence didn't take too long. She pulled the car to a halt as close to her front door as she could, then unlocked Sydney's seatbelt before getting out of the car herself. "C'mon, Sydney," she urged, dragging his legs around to the running board and then once more grabbing him at an elbow and pulling, "just a little bit farther and then you can rest."
His eyes opened as she manipulated his limbs for him again, and the pain and shock in them was almost more than she was ready for. She let her other hand smooth down the grizzled cheek with a whispered, "I know," and then got hold of him with both hands and manhandled him to his feet again. Wrapping an arm about his back, she steadied him up her porch steps and quickly unlocked her front door. "Just a little more," she assured him, pulling him into the warmth and darkness that was her home.
She flipped on the lights and helped the psychiatrist to her couch. "Lay down, Syd," she ordered brusquely as she dragged the blanket from about his shoulders and pushed on him to tip back into the sofa pillows at one end, then covered him from chin to foot after pulling his slippers off. "I'll get another blanket," she decided aloud as she saw him let loose another violent shiver, then dragged a heavy, crocheted afghan from the nearby linen closet and tucked him in more securely.
"I'll get some water started for some hot tea, then I'll be back to build a fire to warm you up," she told him after smoothing a hand across his forehead and brushing some of the unstylishly long silver hair back out of his face. "Don't go away."
"Parker?" His voice was soft, obviously distressed.
"Yeah?"
"Th...thanks," he shivered up at her, his eyes open and vulnerable.
Her hand smoothed against his face again gently even as the lump in her throat prevented her from replying. "I'll be right back," she finally managed to whisper and then escaped towards the kitchen before she made a fool of herself.
Not quite as undomesticated as many people might have believed her, Miss Parker was quick to set the teakettle to heating and putting some delicate green tea into her tea ball after arranging a tray with teapot and two mugs. Content for the moment that her kitchen duties were finished until the water boiled, she took a deep breath to steady herself and then came back out into the living room, headed towards the hearth. She made quick work of cleaning away the previous evening's ashes and laying a newspaper and pinecone layer of kindling beneath the more sizeable pieces she intended to warm her living room. She lit the kindling and stayed knelt close by in case it needed tending for a bit, then rose and placed the screen in front of the blaze when she heard the teakettle begin to sing in the back of the house.
Sydney had closed his eyes and turned himself toward the back of the couch, but was still shivering with the blankets held close under his chin. Her steps slowed as she went past him, then sped up again to answer the insistent call of the teakettle. She filled the teapot and replaced its lid so that the beverage could steep for a while, then carried the tray back out to the living room.
Already the fire was making a difference, having chased from the room the edge of chill that had gathered since she'd left for work that morning. Miss Parker moved to deposit the tray on one end of her coffee table, then sat down on the coffee table next to it and closer to his head and shoulders. Hesitating slightly, she then reached out a hand and placed it gently on the blankets covering his back as it faced her. "Sydney? C'mon - I have some hot tea here that will help warm you up again." She felt him shudder slightly beneath her touch. "C'mon, Syd, you know this will help. Work with me here."
That was when she could feel his chest heaving and knew that he was weeping. She brought her other hand up and laid it against his back as well, respecting his wish to not expose his tears but at the same time wishing to give him whatever comfort she could. She had only seen him this emotional once before - a moment startling in its contrast to his usual enduringly stoic nature. At that time she had eventually reached out to him and found that, for a man used to giving comfort to others, it was not always easy for him to accept it for himself. Her hand moved slowly and soothingly back and forth across the spread of his shoulders, allowing him the space to vent without reproach or challenge while still letting him know that she was there.
Eventually, however, she felt him give a huge sigh and then relax, his breathing evening out and deepening. She rose enough to peek over his shoulder at his face and then smiled gently - he had fallen asleep, with the tracks of his tears still fresh and damp on his cheek. She sat back, not quite sure whether to be pleased that he was warm and at ease enough to get some rest or concerned that his emotions were so shell-shocked that he had retreated into slumber to escape the burden of living for the moment. Whichever, she adjusted the blanket at his back so that it covered him more completely and then picked up her tray and carried it back into the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~
The light outside was finally beginning to fail when there was a knock at her front door, and she rushed over to open it and let Broots enter before another knock would disturb her guest. She greeted Broots with a finger to her lips and a nod in the direction of the couch, and then a crooked finger summoning him to follow her to the kitchen. "Well?" she asked with an eye on the sacks the man had carried in with him as well as the wrapped present from her desk drawer.
"Well," he answered, putting the sacks on the table next to the gift, "Here's a razor, hairbrush and toothbrush, as you requested." He then hefted the larger sack. "In this one, I have a couple pair of... uh... you know... tee shirts and boxers, socks, some suspenders like he likes to wear, and a pair of trousers about the size I THINK he wears. He's a little bigger and taller than I am, and..."
"I'm sure it will be fine, Broots," she patted him on the shoulder appreciatively, drawing a surprised look from her coworker. "Is Debbie waiting for you?"
"Yeah, we're on our way to visit my brother, so we're opting for fast food tonight to save on dishes." Broots smiled gently at the mention of his daughter, then sobered again. "How's he doing?"
"Sleeping, mostly," she answered frankly, "and I haven't had the heart to wake him. He was in pretty rotten shape when I got to him."
"Was it... was Manny right - was it...?"
"Completely," she shook her head sadly. "There's literally nothing left."
"Man!" Broots looked back over his shoulder and into the living room at the back of the couch. "Uh... If... Are you going to be putting him up until...?"
"I haven't really thought about it," Miss Parker admitted with a jolt of surprise. She had taken him in immediately as an act of defense for a friend, not thinking about his long -term need for shelter until other arrangements could be made."
"Well, if you... you know... We have a guest room too, you know..." Broots wrung his hands together as he tried to make the offer without offending in the process.
She decided not to take offense at the idea that Sydney's staying with her might not work out well. "I'll pass along the offer when he awakens, Broots - and thanks! Are you sure I can't reimburse you for..."
"Nah..." He held his hands up. "Wouldn't think of it. We both know Syd would be there for US if we needed him - it's only right that we be there for him right now." He reached up and smoothed his hand over his balding pate. "What a heckuva note that this had to happen so close to Christmas, you know?"
"Really." There was an unadorned Christmas tree leaning against the back of her house that she would have been dragging into the living room by now if not for the man sleeping on her couch. It had been the only seasonal tradition that she had kept up through the years, regardless. Somehow she had a feeling that this year's tree would not get set up at all, now that there were more important matters to attend to. She shook herself from her reverie and then laid a hand on his upper arm. "Tell Debbie Merry Christmas for me, will you?"
"Sure thing, Miss Parker. I'll call when I get back from my brother's, in case there's anything I can do to help then, OK?"
"Thanks, Broots." She escorted him back through the living room and out the door with a few more whispered season's greetings, then closed and locked the door. There was a container of leftover soup in the fridge that she had decided to split for their supper, with some French bread warmed over in the microwave. She had contented herself with a salad for lunch while comfortably ensconced in the leather easy chair near the fire, working her way through some of the paperwork that never, ever, seemed to end. But the evening meal she had decided would be a shared one and a warm one.
She took a quick glance at the couch and found Sydney had rolled onto his back in his sleep. His color was better, he certainly no longer looked like he had just walked out of a snowdrift. But he would need food soon, and she hoped that she wouldn't have to awaken him - that he would rouse on his own eventually.
The container of soup was just enough to fill the saucepan, and while it reheated over a low flame she sliced the French bread, buttered it, and put it on a paper plate for microwaving. She had finished off the tea that she had made earlier in the day, and the teakettle was filled and put back on the stove to make another pot to go with the meal. As the savory aroma of the soup filled the kitchen and wafted out into the rest of the house, she could hear stirring on the couch.
After making sure she could leave her meal preparations for a little while, she stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room to check on things there. Sydney was propped up on an elbow and rubbing a hand pensively over a chin with over a day's worth of grizzle on it. He looked up at her as she came around the end of the couch with apology. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I must have slept the day away."
"That's OK," she reassured him, "You looked exhausted earlier, I'm not surprised you slept so long. I'm just glad that I didn't have to wake you up for supper after all."
"You didn't have to..." he began, his gaze sinking to his feet, comfortably wrapped in two blankets on what had turned out to be a very comfortable couch.
"Yes I did," she corrected him, "I'm hungry too. It IS suppertime, after all..." She jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. "C'mon. It's warm in the kitchen too."
"Uh... I'm not exactly presentable..." he hedged, finally realizing that he was still clad only in his pajamas and robe.
"Pfft! You're no worse now than you were standing out in the snow dressed like that, so you're no worse than I've already seen," she dismissed his argument with a wave of her hand. "Your slippers are right there, waiting. C'mon. Hot soup and buttered French bread awaits."
"Parker, I'm not exactly the best of company right now," he admitted quietly. "I don't want to ruin your meal..."
By the time his words ground to a halt, Miss Parker had seated herself on the coffee table near him. She reached out a hand and took on of his in hers very gently. "Look, I know I can't really appreciate what you're going through right now, but there's a warm and hearty meal waiting in the kitchen that can't hurt either of us, regardless of your mood. Besides, I'm not demanding that you be a witty and charming dinner companion, OK? I just want you to eat a little - you haven't had a bite all day."
He raised tired eyes to hers. "You aren't going to take no for an answer, are you?"
"Do I ever?" she deadpanned back, then rose and extended her hand. "C'mon," she urged insistently. "Before my soup burns."
She could see that she'd won, despite his real reluctance to cooperate, when he took a deep breath and then waved her on with a, "I'm getting up, I promise. Go take care of the soup - I'll be there in a minute."
Realizing that he probably wanted some privacy in which to climb out from under the blankets, and maybe to make a small side trip, she gave him a measured look and then turned to head back to the kitchen. "Bathroom's the door to the right as you head through the dining room," she informed him as she walked away. She made it back to the kitchen in time to keep the soup from boiling over and catch the teakettle as it was just beginning to sing again.
The soup was divided into two bowls and placed on the table with the plate with the buttered bread in the center and the teapot off to on side steeping by the time he finally emerged from the bathroom and shuffled into the kitchen. She noted that he'd taken the time to dampen his unruly hair and probably run his fingers through it to put it back in place as much as he could. Still, his face was a study in tired chagrin. "I'm sorry I can't make myself any more presentable at the moment," he stated softly as he seated himself at one setting, then waited for her to join him.
"You look fine," she assured him again. "You don't have to apologize, OK?" She pointed to the soup. "Eat a little," and snitched a slice of bread from the plate and put it on his plate next to the soup bowl. "You'll feel better, I promise."
He dipped his spoon and tasted the soup carefully after blowing on it, then lifted his brows. "Good," he commented and dipped the spoon again.
"Glad you like it," she responded and followed suit. After a bit, she poured them both a cup of tea and set Sydney's in front of him without a word. The soup tasted good on a cold day, even though she had spend nearly the entire day in front of a warming fire. From the looks of things, Sydney's appetite had finally made its presence known, for he finished the first piece of bread and reached quietly for another with which to help finish off the soup.
They ate in companionable silence until both had polished off the soup and all the bread she had prepared, as well as gone through a refill each on the tea. Sydney stacked his dishes together and then looked up at his hostess. "I really appreciate all you've done..." he started.
"It was the least I could do," she replied gently. "Besides, I had Broots run a few errands for you on his way home tonight." She pointed to the sacks and the gift sitting on the sideboard. "There's basic toiletry equipment in there, along with some clothing. He was guessing about your size, however, so I hope everything fits..."
"Parker..." Her thoughtfulness had touched him deeply, and his voice was rough with emotions.
"And that fancy package was what I was going to give you at the Centre party anyway - I guess it will really come in handy now. I was also thinking that you and Daddy... were about the same size - and I have some of his stuff in a box. At least hopefully between this and that there's enough to make you feel you can make yourself presentable again..." She rose and took their dishes to the sink. "And, last but not least, I made up the bed in the guest room for you, so you don't have to camp out on the couch anymore. The room's yours, for as long as you need it..."
"You don't have to do that," he complained with very little strength. He knew that he was completely without resources at the moment, and it bothered him greatly.
"I know I don't," she replied, coming to sit down next to him again. "But I want to."
"I'm ruining your Christmas," Sydney grumbled ruefully.
"What Christmas?" she retorted dryly. "Are you thinking of the one where I set up a tree and pray that my father can find time in his busy schedule to come by, only to have him cancel at the last minute because the Centre was more important to him than I was? Or maybe you're thinking of the one where I set up a tree and remember the days when I actually used to have a father that I could ask to come by who'd cancel out all the time?" She looked at him in chagrin. "I'm sorry. Christmas isn't my favorite holiday anyway, Sydney - it hasn't been for a long time - so I think it's safe to say that you aren't ruining anything important."
"Still... I see you haven't got your tree up this year at all." It was the best he could do.
"No," she answered with more patience than she knew she'd had, "it's still leaning against the back of the house, waiting for me. I wasn't about to make a ruckus and wake you when you needed your rest."
"But you would have, if I hadn't been here..."
"Sydney..." He wasn't going to get away with laying the blame for her reticence on himself. "Number one, if you hadn't been here, we BOTH would just be getting home from the buffet, and my tree still wouldn't be up yet. I normally don't set it up until the day before Christmas Eve nowadays anyway, since I'm usually the only one who gets to enjoy it. Number two, nothing says that I can't still put it up later, does it?"
"No..."
"There you go, then," she said in a satisfied tone, sitting back in her chair. "Not your fault. OK?"
"Alright." He stretched a hand out to her across the table, and she took it in hers. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she responded gently, then squeezed. "C'mon. I'll show you your room, and let you see whether Broots has as good an eye for sizes as I'm hoping he does."
~~~~~~~~
"Well, what do you think?"
Miss Parker looked up from her paperwork as Sydney stepped from the bathroom again, this time dressed in the turtleneck she'd bought him and the trousers Broots had found. Broots had a better eye than he gave himself credit for, for the trousers were an astonishingly good fit and with the suspenders actually complimented the color of the sweater nicely. Sydney had taken the time to shave as well, so the nearly two days' worth of stubble no longer littered his cheeks and chin.
"I'd say you look almost yourself again," she said, laying the paperwork down and standing up to walk a complete circle around him with an assessing eye. "You clean up well enough, Freud."
Sydney's eyes lit on the tree that had mysteriously appeared in the far corner of the living room during his ablutions. "You've been busy too," he commented with a jerk of his nose toward the recent addition.
"I decided that we both could use having it in here this year after all," she let her eyes rest against the dark green of the evergreen. "Maybe just a little continuity after a year that has been pretty hard on us both?"
The Belgian thought fondly of the tree that he hadn't had the chance to set up in his own living room yet either, of the decorations that he'd collected patiently one by one through the years. Each decoration chosen very carefully to remind him of an event in that year that stood out and shone brighter than all the rest. Setting up a Christmas tree every year was a trip through his internal album of memories. He heaved a heavy sigh and deliberately dismissed his grief until he could deal with it alone again. "You're probably right." He looked around. "Where are your decorations?"
"Over here." She walked over to the closet by the front door and reached up high, dragging a large cardboard box forward off the overhead shelf. Sydney came up behind her and caught it as it began to slide forward out of her control. "Thanks," she puffed at him, the reaching and stretching being more than she was used to nowadays, with all her desk work. "Put it on the coffee table," she suggested, closing the closet again.
"Say - how good are you with lights?" she asked, opening the top of the box and exposing the several carefully balled strings of minilights.
~~~~~~~~
"Here," Miss Parker handed her old friend an old-fashioned glass with pleasantly rum-spiked eggnog that she had made the day before in preparation for a lonely Christmas alone. Sydney took the glass and tapped it carefully against hers, then sipped at the sweet and creamy drink while gazing with a surprising sense of satisfaction at their evening's work.
The tree was beautiful. She had had enough strings of lights - all of them in good working order - to turn the dark evergreen into a glimmering jewel that sparkled and glowed in the corner. She, too, had decorations that drew forth memories that she found herself sharing with another for a change. Amazed and charmed, Sydney had quietly listened as a woman who so carefully guarded her privacy let him wander at random through her memories of childhood before her mother's death. The memories she had shared with him had been good ones, happy ones, ones that could still bring a smile to her face and get a chuckle out of him at her adept way of telling stories.
It had been a good idea to bring in the tree and decorate it after all. During the time he had worked patiently arranging the lights on the branches and then listened to Miss Parker's unexpected candor and reminiscences, he had been able to set aside his intense grief at losing everything. That respite had given him a chance to remember that THINGS could be replaced, memories and people couldn't. The grief was still here, but it had been tempered by an old friend's kindness in the face of his loss.
"This was a good idea," he told her with a sad smile. "Thank you for letting me help you."
"Thank YOU," she responded with feeling. "It's nice to share the job - and the results - with somebody else for a change."
"I don't have anything for you, Parker, to thank you for all you've given me." He bumped her shoulder with his gently.
"It was just a sweater, Syd," she shook her head and bumped him back.
"You've given me a lot more than just a sweater, and you know it." He shook his head back and reached out an arm and placed it carefully about her shoulders. He knew she generally didn't allow such displays, but there was no other way for him to express his gratitude for her literally taking him in at one of the lowest points in his life and helping him cope through the worst of it. Most of all, he was grateful to her for giving him the kind of hope that could help him see his way through the darkness.
Miss Parker felt the hesitancy in that cautious arm and decided to take advantage of the unexpected chance to comfort him after all. She wrapped her own arm around his waist loosely and gave herself the gift of leaning unabashedly for a little while into the chest of a man she'd known all her life and cared for more than she wanted to admit. "Shush," she hushed at him with a tiny squeeze. "Let's just enjoy the tree, Freud," she said in a soft tone that made the usually caustic nickname an endearment.
He turned and tightened his arm about her, pulling her into him in a fond hug. Then he loosened his hold again and clinked his glass of eggnog with hers once more. "To Christmas - and good friends, then," he toasted her warmly, and felt her sip her drink after softly repeating his toast and tightening her arm around his waist.
And then he turned his eyes to the corner of the room, determined to enjoy the beauty of the tree, and the warmth of the season that even tragedy hadn't chased away entirely.
Miss Parker shivered and pulled her suit jacket closed in front and buttoned it. One of Raines' latest cost-cutting measures at the Centre had been to lower the thermostat for all non-Tower facilities, a move that had included her office. With the snow swirling lazily outside her window in a visual chill, she had taken lately to wearing more substancial sweaters beneath her jackets, and pantyhose beneath her trousers as much for warmth as for style.
It was the day before Christmas Eve, the day of the inevitable and generally unavoidable Centre Christmas buffet and gift exchange - one of her least favorite days of the year. This year, however, she would have given just about anything to duck out before the festivities started because this year she didn't even have the pretense of giving a present to Daddy to hold her there. She had always given him something at the Centre affair, never sure whether he'd keep any of their other holiday appointments after contending with too many last minute cancellations over the years. It had made the festivities bearable, at least.
She had drawn Sydney's name this year - which had made the shopping a little easier, for at least she knew him and his tastes a little bit and could shop intelligently. She had found him a warm turtleneck sweater like the ones he so often enjoyed wearing on these cold winter days, and chosen a color that she hadn't seen him wear before. The package sat in the bottom drawer of her desk, carefully wrapped and waiting for that moment when she could hand it to him, watch him open it, get her thanks and then make her escape.
"Hey, Miss Parker, did you hear the news?" Broots came through her office door without warning, obviously excited or upset about what he'd just heard.
"Hey, Scooby, did you ever learn the fine art of knocking?" she shot back at him with a withering glance. "Why don't you go back out, and..."
"No, wait! Didn't you hear the fire alarms go off early in town this morning?" The man's hazel eyes were wide.
Miss Parker sighed, realizing she wasn't going to be able to give any common courtesy training to her computer wizard until he'd delivered his news. "What is it? Yeah, I kinda remember them waking me up..."
"Well, I just heard!"
"Heard WHAT? For God's sake, spit it out sometime this year, willya?"
"It was Sydney's," he said quietly, and the news did indeed stop Miss Parker's pending tantrum dead in its tracks.
"Say what?"
"I heard Manny talking about it just a minute ago - you know Manny, the guy with only one ear that works down in..."
"BROOTS!"
The balding technician shuddered and got his thoughts back on track. "He says that he's heard on his police scanner that the house was a total loss."
Miss Parker caught his gaze with her grey eyes. "Where's Sydney?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
"H..he didn't come in today..." Broots managed, finally getting to the news he'd been carrying and not knowing how to deliver.
"Shit!" She rose quickly. "Listen, I'm not..." She thought again - her mind running in several directions at once, all of them panicked. She took a deep breath to calm herself down and help her choose one course of action. "I'm going to go find him," she announced finally, walking briskly toward her coat rack. "I probably won't be back for the buffet - so if you can make my apologies for me..."
"Miss Parker?" Broots' voice was small, but it was still there, "Do you want me to go with you?"
She patted his arm, knowing that he was as worried as she was. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything. You hold down the fort for me here - and keep the wolves at bay, OK?"
~~~~~~~~
Miss Parker followed the road that led from the Centre back to the narrow highway that passed through Blue Cove with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This can't be happening, she kept thinking to herself as she pressed just infinitesimally harder on the accelerator, disregarding entirely that she was speeding badly already. First Daddy and now... Not Sydney! No!
She took the first street to the east from the highway and wound her way around the well-groomed middle-class residences among which Sydney had nestled his home. She knew the way, having picked him up or dropped him off at his house the few times over the years that his car had needed servicing and wasn't ready for him to get to work the next day. But this was the first time she'd driven there for something other than a simple car pool arrangement. God, not Sydney! It was becoming a refrain in the back of her mind, and a desperate one.
Then she came around the corner; and the sight that met her took her breath away and made her heart sink to her shoes. Sydney's house had been one of several in the development that had been two stories. But no longer. All that was left of the entire dwelling lay in a black and smoldering mess that had fallen into the basement and barely showed above ground. His prized topiary bushes that had nestled close against the house were now but scorched and barren branches that stretched forlornly into the smoke-filled air, with some charred juniper needles showing where they had once been carefully trimmed and manicured.
Miss Parker located and then practically sprinted from behind the wheel of her car to the edge of the yard where the Fire Chief was still directing his men. "What happened here?" she demanded in a voice that would accept nothing but what was requested.
"We're still not sure," the man shrugged. "It burned hotter than most house fires at this time of year, so it could have been deliberately set, but..."
"What about the owner?" she grabbed the man's arm tightly. "What about Sydney?"
"Over there. He was damned lucky to get out of that in one piece!" The overcoated arm lifted and the gloved hand pointed out the attending ambulance parked just down the street. The doors at the back end were open and, sitting in a slump to one side on the bumper, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders, was...
"Sydney!" Miss Parker breathed and then almost but didn't quite break into a relieved trot in getting from the Fire Chief's side to the ambulance. She looked down into dazed, exhausted and defeated chestnut eyes that barely seemed to recognize her at all and put a sympathetic hand down on her old friend's shoulder. "Are you OK? You weren't hurt?"
"Are you family?" The EMT poked his head out of the ambulance at the sound of her voice, then climbed from the vehicle. "We asked him if he had any family we could call, but he hasn't exactly been talking much..."
"No, not family, but a very good friend," Miss Parker answered only partially paying attention to the EMT. Sydney looked horrible, and she couldn't imagine that he wasn't freezing, sitting there in his pajamas and thin robe and well-worn corduroy slippers with only a blanket over him. It was an incredibly chilly day, with snow falling lightly and already dusting his broad shoulders. "How is he?"
The ambulance attendant looked down at his patient and gave a small shrug as he gestured to him. "Other than shock and disorientation, and a little bit of a chill from sitting out here staring rather than sitting in the heated ambulance where I wanted him, there's nothing physically wrong with him. Then again..." The man looked over his shoulder at the mess that had once been a gracious home, "I think I'd be a bit shocked and disoriented too if that was all that was left of MY house..."
"So you don't intend to..."
"No," the EMT waved at her. "Actually, I think it would probably be a good idea to get him away from here for a while, get him someplace warm and safe, where he'd feel at ease. If you can take him with you, that would be great - because otherwise I'll have to transport him into the hospital in Dover until he gets himself coherent again."
"Sounds good to me." Miss Parker bent and grabbed her old friend by the elbow. "C'mon, Sydney, there's nothing more to be seen here right now..." She pulled up and backwards, and finally pulled him far enough off the ambulance bumper that he got to his feet. "My car's this way..."
"Parker?" He seemed to rouse slightly as her touch became an insistent tug and then roused a bit more as he realized she already had an arm wrapped around his back and was steering his faltering steps. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," she told him gently, steering him past the fire engine and towards her Boxster. "I need to get you home before you freeze to death..."
"Home..." The Belgian drew out the word, obviously looking at the disaster that just a few hours ago that had been HIS home. "Gone now, all of it..."
"I know, Sydney, I know. C'mon... Get in the car, please?" She opened the passenger door and virtually manhandled the psychiatrist into the seat, then pulled the seatbelt across him, over the blanket, and secured him. She rushed around to the driver's side and cranked up the car's heater even as she was turning the engine over.
"Where do I go now?" he asked nobody in particular in a tired, plaintive tone. "What do I do..."
"You're coming home with me for the moment," Miss Parker stated decisively and put her vehicle into motion. As she steered past the scene, she could see her old friend crane his neck until the ruin that was once his house passed out of sight behind them, and then he settled back against the head rest of his seat and closed his eyes and shivered. She sighed worriedly, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched the button that dialed Broots' office. "Broots? No, no - slow down. He's OK, and he's with me. But I'm going to take him to my place and take care of him a bit. He's pretty shaky and out of it..."
"Mr. Raines came looking for you," Broots' voice told her in a tone that told her he wasn't anxious to be overheard.
"I'm sure he did," she commented dryly. "Well, as far as he or Mr. Lyle are concerned, I'm out for the rest of the Christmas holiday and would rather not be disturbed."
"Uh, is there anything I can do?" the technician asked shyly.
"Yeah!" Actually, there was one thing... "There's a Christmas present in the bottom right drawer of my desk. Could you bring it by my place on your way home tonight?"
"Sure thing. Anything else?"
She looked over at her passenger again, and knew there were probably a million and one extra errands that she could have Broots run for her, IF only she knew Sydney's clothing sizes. As it was, she still had a few of Thomas' old flannel shirts and pairs of denims in a box at the bottom of her closet, and a similar box of her father's old clothes that just might suffice for the moment. "Not unless you know what size pants he wears..."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "I can... m..make a guess, I suppose," Broots stammered finally.
"Guess on the larger size," she directed him. "Better that he swim in something and have to roll up the pantlegs and cinch in the belt than have it too tight to zip and hitting the high water mark. A razor, hairbrush and toothbrush wouldn't hurt either. Whatever you get, I'll reimburse you when you get to my place."
"I'll take care of it on my way, and don't worry about paying me back - it's for Sydney, after all." Broots thought for a moment. "What about food? You need any food?"
"Nope. On that I'm doing fine." She had purchased a ham and vegetables for a fairly decent meal for herself, large enough that she'd intended for the surfeit of leftovers to keep her fed for days afterwards. With two mouths to feed, the leftovers would go faster, but there'd be enough for a couple of days at least. "That ought to do it."
She disconnected, then shot another worried glance at her passenger. Sydney's face was colorless, and he had drawn the blanket more tightly around him now, shivering. "You were going to freeze to death, sitting out there like that," she scolded him gently. He didn't answer her, but just gave a slightly more pronounced shiver. "Geez!" she muttered to herself anxiously and once more found an excuse to press down just a little heavier on the accelerator.
The ride to the Parker summerhouse that she had taken for her own residence didn't take too long. She pulled the car to a halt as close to her front door as she could, then unlocked Sydney's seatbelt before getting out of the car herself. "C'mon, Sydney," she urged, dragging his legs around to the running board and then once more grabbing him at an elbow and pulling, "just a little bit farther and then you can rest."
His eyes opened as she manipulated his limbs for him again, and the pain and shock in them was almost more than she was ready for. She let her other hand smooth down the grizzled cheek with a whispered, "I know," and then got hold of him with both hands and manhandled him to his feet again. Wrapping an arm about his back, she steadied him up her porch steps and quickly unlocked her front door. "Just a little more," she assured him, pulling him into the warmth and darkness that was her home.
She flipped on the lights and helped the psychiatrist to her couch. "Lay down, Syd," she ordered brusquely as she dragged the blanket from about his shoulders and pushed on him to tip back into the sofa pillows at one end, then covered him from chin to foot after pulling his slippers off. "I'll get another blanket," she decided aloud as she saw him let loose another violent shiver, then dragged a heavy, crocheted afghan from the nearby linen closet and tucked him in more securely.
"I'll get some water started for some hot tea, then I'll be back to build a fire to warm you up," she told him after smoothing a hand across his forehead and brushing some of the unstylishly long silver hair back out of his face. "Don't go away."
"Parker?" His voice was soft, obviously distressed.
"Yeah?"
"Th...thanks," he shivered up at her, his eyes open and vulnerable.
Her hand smoothed against his face again gently even as the lump in her throat prevented her from replying. "I'll be right back," she finally managed to whisper and then escaped towards the kitchen before she made a fool of herself.
Not quite as undomesticated as many people might have believed her, Miss Parker was quick to set the teakettle to heating and putting some delicate green tea into her tea ball after arranging a tray with teapot and two mugs. Content for the moment that her kitchen duties were finished until the water boiled, she took a deep breath to steady herself and then came back out into the living room, headed towards the hearth. She made quick work of cleaning away the previous evening's ashes and laying a newspaper and pinecone layer of kindling beneath the more sizeable pieces she intended to warm her living room. She lit the kindling and stayed knelt close by in case it needed tending for a bit, then rose and placed the screen in front of the blaze when she heard the teakettle begin to sing in the back of the house.
Sydney had closed his eyes and turned himself toward the back of the couch, but was still shivering with the blankets held close under his chin. Her steps slowed as she went past him, then sped up again to answer the insistent call of the teakettle. She filled the teapot and replaced its lid so that the beverage could steep for a while, then carried the tray back out to the living room.
Already the fire was making a difference, having chased from the room the edge of chill that had gathered since she'd left for work that morning. Miss Parker moved to deposit the tray on one end of her coffee table, then sat down on the coffee table next to it and closer to his head and shoulders. Hesitating slightly, she then reached out a hand and placed it gently on the blankets covering his back as it faced her. "Sydney? C'mon - I have some hot tea here that will help warm you up again." She felt him shudder slightly beneath her touch. "C'mon, Syd, you know this will help. Work with me here."
That was when she could feel his chest heaving and knew that he was weeping. She brought her other hand up and laid it against his back as well, respecting his wish to not expose his tears but at the same time wishing to give him whatever comfort she could. She had only seen him this emotional once before - a moment startling in its contrast to his usual enduringly stoic nature. At that time she had eventually reached out to him and found that, for a man used to giving comfort to others, it was not always easy for him to accept it for himself. Her hand moved slowly and soothingly back and forth across the spread of his shoulders, allowing him the space to vent without reproach or challenge while still letting him know that she was there.
Eventually, however, she felt him give a huge sigh and then relax, his breathing evening out and deepening. She rose enough to peek over his shoulder at his face and then smiled gently - he had fallen asleep, with the tracks of his tears still fresh and damp on his cheek. She sat back, not quite sure whether to be pleased that he was warm and at ease enough to get some rest or concerned that his emotions were so shell-shocked that he had retreated into slumber to escape the burden of living for the moment. Whichever, she adjusted the blanket at his back so that it covered him more completely and then picked up her tray and carried it back into the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~
The light outside was finally beginning to fail when there was a knock at her front door, and she rushed over to open it and let Broots enter before another knock would disturb her guest. She greeted Broots with a finger to her lips and a nod in the direction of the couch, and then a crooked finger summoning him to follow her to the kitchen. "Well?" she asked with an eye on the sacks the man had carried in with him as well as the wrapped present from her desk drawer.
"Well," he answered, putting the sacks on the table next to the gift, "Here's a razor, hairbrush and toothbrush, as you requested." He then hefted the larger sack. "In this one, I have a couple pair of... uh... you know... tee shirts and boxers, socks, some suspenders like he likes to wear, and a pair of trousers about the size I THINK he wears. He's a little bigger and taller than I am, and..."
"I'm sure it will be fine, Broots," she patted him on the shoulder appreciatively, drawing a surprised look from her coworker. "Is Debbie waiting for you?"
"Yeah, we're on our way to visit my brother, so we're opting for fast food tonight to save on dishes." Broots smiled gently at the mention of his daughter, then sobered again. "How's he doing?"
"Sleeping, mostly," she answered frankly, "and I haven't had the heart to wake him. He was in pretty rotten shape when I got to him."
"Was it... was Manny right - was it...?"
"Completely," she shook her head sadly. "There's literally nothing left."
"Man!" Broots looked back over his shoulder and into the living room at the back of the couch. "Uh... If... Are you going to be putting him up until...?"
"I haven't really thought about it," Miss Parker admitted with a jolt of surprise. She had taken him in immediately as an act of defense for a friend, not thinking about his long -term need for shelter until other arrangements could be made."
"Well, if you... you know... We have a guest room too, you know..." Broots wrung his hands together as he tried to make the offer without offending in the process.
She decided not to take offense at the idea that Sydney's staying with her might not work out well. "I'll pass along the offer when he awakens, Broots - and thanks! Are you sure I can't reimburse you for..."
"Nah..." He held his hands up. "Wouldn't think of it. We both know Syd would be there for US if we needed him - it's only right that we be there for him right now." He reached up and smoothed his hand over his balding pate. "What a heckuva note that this had to happen so close to Christmas, you know?"
"Really." There was an unadorned Christmas tree leaning against the back of her house that she would have been dragging into the living room by now if not for the man sleeping on her couch. It had been the only seasonal tradition that she had kept up through the years, regardless. Somehow she had a feeling that this year's tree would not get set up at all, now that there were more important matters to attend to. She shook herself from her reverie and then laid a hand on his upper arm. "Tell Debbie Merry Christmas for me, will you?"
"Sure thing, Miss Parker. I'll call when I get back from my brother's, in case there's anything I can do to help then, OK?"
"Thanks, Broots." She escorted him back through the living room and out the door with a few more whispered season's greetings, then closed and locked the door. There was a container of leftover soup in the fridge that she had decided to split for their supper, with some French bread warmed over in the microwave. She had contented herself with a salad for lunch while comfortably ensconced in the leather easy chair near the fire, working her way through some of the paperwork that never, ever, seemed to end. But the evening meal she had decided would be a shared one and a warm one.
She took a quick glance at the couch and found Sydney had rolled onto his back in his sleep. His color was better, he certainly no longer looked like he had just walked out of a snowdrift. But he would need food soon, and she hoped that she wouldn't have to awaken him - that he would rouse on his own eventually.
The container of soup was just enough to fill the saucepan, and while it reheated over a low flame she sliced the French bread, buttered it, and put it on a paper plate for microwaving. She had finished off the tea that she had made earlier in the day, and the teakettle was filled and put back on the stove to make another pot to go with the meal. As the savory aroma of the soup filled the kitchen and wafted out into the rest of the house, she could hear stirring on the couch.
After making sure she could leave her meal preparations for a little while, she stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room to check on things there. Sydney was propped up on an elbow and rubbing a hand pensively over a chin with over a day's worth of grizzle on it. He looked up at her as she came around the end of the couch with apology. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I must have slept the day away."
"That's OK," she reassured him, "You looked exhausted earlier, I'm not surprised you slept so long. I'm just glad that I didn't have to wake you up for supper after all."
"You didn't have to..." he began, his gaze sinking to his feet, comfortably wrapped in two blankets on what had turned out to be a very comfortable couch.
"Yes I did," she corrected him, "I'm hungry too. It IS suppertime, after all..." She jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. "C'mon. It's warm in the kitchen too."
"Uh... I'm not exactly presentable..." he hedged, finally realizing that he was still clad only in his pajamas and robe.
"Pfft! You're no worse now than you were standing out in the snow dressed like that, so you're no worse than I've already seen," she dismissed his argument with a wave of her hand. "Your slippers are right there, waiting. C'mon. Hot soup and buttered French bread awaits."
"Parker, I'm not exactly the best of company right now," he admitted quietly. "I don't want to ruin your meal..."
By the time his words ground to a halt, Miss Parker had seated herself on the coffee table near him. She reached out a hand and took on of his in hers very gently. "Look, I know I can't really appreciate what you're going through right now, but there's a warm and hearty meal waiting in the kitchen that can't hurt either of us, regardless of your mood. Besides, I'm not demanding that you be a witty and charming dinner companion, OK? I just want you to eat a little - you haven't had a bite all day."
He raised tired eyes to hers. "You aren't going to take no for an answer, are you?"
"Do I ever?" she deadpanned back, then rose and extended her hand. "C'mon," she urged insistently. "Before my soup burns."
She could see that she'd won, despite his real reluctance to cooperate, when he took a deep breath and then waved her on with a, "I'm getting up, I promise. Go take care of the soup - I'll be there in a minute."
Realizing that he probably wanted some privacy in which to climb out from under the blankets, and maybe to make a small side trip, she gave him a measured look and then turned to head back to the kitchen. "Bathroom's the door to the right as you head through the dining room," she informed him as she walked away. She made it back to the kitchen in time to keep the soup from boiling over and catch the teakettle as it was just beginning to sing again.
The soup was divided into two bowls and placed on the table with the plate with the buttered bread in the center and the teapot off to on side steeping by the time he finally emerged from the bathroom and shuffled into the kitchen. She noted that he'd taken the time to dampen his unruly hair and probably run his fingers through it to put it back in place as much as he could. Still, his face was a study in tired chagrin. "I'm sorry I can't make myself any more presentable at the moment," he stated softly as he seated himself at one setting, then waited for her to join him.
"You look fine," she assured him again. "You don't have to apologize, OK?" She pointed to the soup. "Eat a little," and snitched a slice of bread from the plate and put it on his plate next to the soup bowl. "You'll feel better, I promise."
He dipped his spoon and tasted the soup carefully after blowing on it, then lifted his brows. "Good," he commented and dipped the spoon again.
"Glad you like it," she responded and followed suit. After a bit, she poured them both a cup of tea and set Sydney's in front of him without a word. The soup tasted good on a cold day, even though she had spend nearly the entire day in front of a warming fire. From the looks of things, Sydney's appetite had finally made its presence known, for he finished the first piece of bread and reached quietly for another with which to help finish off the soup.
They ate in companionable silence until both had polished off the soup and all the bread she had prepared, as well as gone through a refill each on the tea. Sydney stacked his dishes together and then looked up at his hostess. "I really appreciate all you've done..." he started.
"It was the least I could do," she replied gently. "Besides, I had Broots run a few errands for you on his way home tonight." She pointed to the sacks and the gift sitting on the sideboard. "There's basic toiletry equipment in there, along with some clothing. He was guessing about your size, however, so I hope everything fits..."
"Parker..." Her thoughtfulness had touched him deeply, and his voice was rough with emotions.
"And that fancy package was what I was going to give you at the Centre party anyway - I guess it will really come in handy now. I was also thinking that you and Daddy... were about the same size - and I have some of his stuff in a box. At least hopefully between this and that there's enough to make you feel you can make yourself presentable again..." She rose and took their dishes to the sink. "And, last but not least, I made up the bed in the guest room for you, so you don't have to camp out on the couch anymore. The room's yours, for as long as you need it..."
"You don't have to do that," he complained with very little strength. He knew that he was completely without resources at the moment, and it bothered him greatly.
"I know I don't," she replied, coming to sit down next to him again. "But I want to."
"I'm ruining your Christmas," Sydney grumbled ruefully.
"What Christmas?" she retorted dryly. "Are you thinking of the one where I set up a tree and pray that my father can find time in his busy schedule to come by, only to have him cancel at the last minute because the Centre was more important to him than I was? Or maybe you're thinking of the one where I set up a tree and remember the days when I actually used to have a father that I could ask to come by who'd cancel out all the time?" She looked at him in chagrin. "I'm sorry. Christmas isn't my favorite holiday anyway, Sydney - it hasn't been for a long time - so I think it's safe to say that you aren't ruining anything important."
"Still... I see you haven't got your tree up this year at all." It was the best he could do.
"No," she answered with more patience than she knew she'd had, "it's still leaning against the back of the house, waiting for me. I wasn't about to make a ruckus and wake you when you needed your rest."
"But you would have, if I hadn't been here..."
"Sydney..." He wasn't going to get away with laying the blame for her reticence on himself. "Number one, if you hadn't been here, we BOTH would just be getting home from the buffet, and my tree still wouldn't be up yet. I normally don't set it up until the day before Christmas Eve nowadays anyway, since I'm usually the only one who gets to enjoy it. Number two, nothing says that I can't still put it up later, does it?"
"No..."
"There you go, then," she said in a satisfied tone, sitting back in her chair. "Not your fault. OK?"
"Alright." He stretched a hand out to her across the table, and she took it in hers. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she responded gently, then squeezed. "C'mon. I'll show you your room, and let you see whether Broots has as good an eye for sizes as I'm hoping he does."
~~~~~~~~
"Well, what do you think?"
Miss Parker looked up from her paperwork as Sydney stepped from the bathroom again, this time dressed in the turtleneck she'd bought him and the trousers Broots had found. Broots had a better eye than he gave himself credit for, for the trousers were an astonishingly good fit and with the suspenders actually complimented the color of the sweater nicely. Sydney had taken the time to shave as well, so the nearly two days' worth of stubble no longer littered his cheeks and chin.
"I'd say you look almost yourself again," she said, laying the paperwork down and standing up to walk a complete circle around him with an assessing eye. "You clean up well enough, Freud."
Sydney's eyes lit on the tree that had mysteriously appeared in the far corner of the living room during his ablutions. "You've been busy too," he commented with a jerk of his nose toward the recent addition.
"I decided that we both could use having it in here this year after all," she let her eyes rest against the dark green of the evergreen. "Maybe just a little continuity after a year that has been pretty hard on us both?"
The Belgian thought fondly of the tree that he hadn't had the chance to set up in his own living room yet either, of the decorations that he'd collected patiently one by one through the years. Each decoration chosen very carefully to remind him of an event in that year that stood out and shone brighter than all the rest. Setting up a Christmas tree every year was a trip through his internal album of memories. He heaved a heavy sigh and deliberately dismissed his grief until he could deal with it alone again. "You're probably right." He looked around. "Where are your decorations?"
"Over here." She walked over to the closet by the front door and reached up high, dragging a large cardboard box forward off the overhead shelf. Sydney came up behind her and caught it as it began to slide forward out of her control. "Thanks," she puffed at him, the reaching and stretching being more than she was used to nowadays, with all her desk work. "Put it on the coffee table," she suggested, closing the closet again.
"Say - how good are you with lights?" she asked, opening the top of the box and exposing the several carefully balled strings of minilights.
~~~~~~~~
"Here," Miss Parker handed her old friend an old-fashioned glass with pleasantly rum-spiked eggnog that she had made the day before in preparation for a lonely Christmas alone. Sydney took the glass and tapped it carefully against hers, then sipped at the sweet and creamy drink while gazing with a surprising sense of satisfaction at their evening's work.
The tree was beautiful. She had had enough strings of lights - all of them in good working order - to turn the dark evergreen into a glimmering jewel that sparkled and glowed in the corner. She, too, had decorations that drew forth memories that she found herself sharing with another for a change. Amazed and charmed, Sydney had quietly listened as a woman who so carefully guarded her privacy let him wander at random through her memories of childhood before her mother's death. The memories she had shared with him had been good ones, happy ones, ones that could still bring a smile to her face and get a chuckle out of him at her adept way of telling stories.
It had been a good idea to bring in the tree and decorate it after all. During the time he had worked patiently arranging the lights on the branches and then listened to Miss Parker's unexpected candor and reminiscences, he had been able to set aside his intense grief at losing everything. That respite had given him a chance to remember that THINGS could be replaced, memories and people couldn't. The grief was still here, but it had been tempered by an old friend's kindness in the face of his loss.
"This was a good idea," he told her with a sad smile. "Thank you for letting me help you."
"Thank YOU," she responded with feeling. "It's nice to share the job - and the results - with somebody else for a change."
"I don't have anything for you, Parker, to thank you for all you've given me." He bumped her shoulder with his gently.
"It was just a sweater, Syd," she shook her head and bumped him back.
"You've given me a lot more than just a sweater, and you know it." He shook his head back and reached out an arm and placed it carefully about her shoulders. He knew she generally didn't allow such displays, but there was no other way for him to express his gratitude for her literally taking him in at one of the lowest points in his life and helping him cope through the worst of it. Most of all, he was grateful to her for giving him the kind of hope that could help him see his way through the darkness.
Miss Parker felt the hesitancy in that cautious arm and decided to take advantage of the unexpected chance to comfort him after all. She wrapped her own arm around his waist loosely and gave herself the gift of leaning unabashedly for a little while into the chest of a man she'd known all her life and cared for more than she wanted to admit. "Shush," she hushed at him with a tiny squeeze. "Let's just enjoy the tree, Freud," she said in a soft tone that made the usually caustic nickname an endearment.
He turned and tightened his arm about her, pulling her into him in a fond hug. Then he loosened his hold again and clinked his glass of eggnog with hers once more. "To Christmas - and good friends, then," he toasted her warmly, and felt her sip her drink after softly repeating his toast and tightening her arm around his waist.
And then he turned his eyes to the corner of the room, determined to enjoy the beauty of the tree, and the warmth of the season that even tragedy hadn't chased away entirely.
