A/N: The finish of our Christmas confection, arriving earlier than expected.

Red and Green

Chapter Six: Ecce Mysterium

Sarah could not sleep.

She felt silky, warm, safe — but too alive, too alert for sleep. Happy. She felt happy.

It was strange, feeling simultaneously so safe and yet so alive.

Safe, she felt safe. How long had it been? — She had not thought about it, noticed it, but she had felt unsafe for years, unsafe working with her father and working for Graham. Under siege. That was how it felt, how she felt. For years and years. She had kept her head down, fortified her walls, dug tunnels, stowed supplies. She had been living on rations, emotional rations, allowing herself to feel only so much, and only at certain times. At all other times, she was hungry, empty. And so eventually she had become numb, uncomfortably numb. Living her life but barely experiencing it. Numb. Cold. Under siege.

Until Graham announced the Red Test and Sarah said no. Until Chuck asked her to his room and she said yes.

I did, eventually. It just took a minute. And some lights. It took letting my heart speak and not my head, letting the growing Sarah decide and not the withering Agent Walker.

And now she was entangled with Chuck, deliciously, deliriously entangled, their feet in contact and their bodies.

They had made love again and again, and fallen asleep together. But Sarah had awakened. Life and happiness and peace filled her to bursting. She could not be still.

She got out of bed with care, not disturbing Chuck. Finding Chuck's shirt, she slipped into it, unbuttoned — reveling in the scent of him. She tiptoed around the bed, leaned down, and kissed Chuck's cheek, a featherweight kiss.

After she did, she remained bent over him, then bent her knees, her face level with his, and gazed at him in wonder. She said, in a soft whisper, "I know it's too early, too early to say it, but I'm going to explode if I don't. I love you, Chuck. I do, I'm sure of it. I have been sure of so little in my life, but I am sure of this..." She trembled at her own words.

"It's all a mystery to me. Two days ago, I would have said I couldn't love anyone, and that no one could love me. Two days ago, I expected to be on a plane for God knows where, on another errand for Graham. But now," Sarah stood, wrapped Chuck's shirt tight around her, "I'm starting a new life, a life with you, your girlfriend, no longer Graham's errand girl." She bent down and gave him another featherweight kiss.

She padded out of the bedroom and to her couch. She sat down, still holding Chuck's shirt tight around her with one hand, and put her elbow on the arm of the sofa. She rested her head in her palm and stared at the Christmas tree. Her Christmas tree. Chuck's Christmas tree, his and hers.

It was strange, after a lifetime of loneliness, how natural sharing herself with Chuck seemed, how eager she was for it, and how eager she was for him to share himself with her. They had met each other at exactly the right time — in the fullness of time for each of them.

Sarah got up, still too happy to be still, and walked to the window. She looked out into the night, snow still falling. The thought of the snowflakes falling made her think of the diner earlier, the conversation between the man and his wife about blessings. The blessing of Chuck had somehow come through her fortifications, her walls, passing through them effortlessly to find her, her heart.

She laughed to herself, picturing Chuck's eagerness at the Memorial. Nineteen feet of Lincoln. She shook her head. What was the title of the Sandburg books? The War Years. Sarah had lived through her war years too, drudgery, personal tragedy — Mom! — and the weight and horror of the interminable cold wars fought among spies.

She heard a sound and turned her head from the window. Chuck was standing in the door of the bedroom, wearing only his boxers, a blanket around his shoulders like a cape. Sarah smiled and gestured him to her with her head. He came to her and wrapped her in the blanket with him. They stared out at the snowfall together.

After a few minutes, he nuzzled her ear through her hair. "I'm so happy, Sarah."

She put her hand on his cheek, turning to him. "So am I, Chuck. Never this happy before, never even imagined this happy before."

She turned and they stared out a while longer.

"Hey," Chuck started softly, "that Salvation Army Santa we saw today…"

Sarah smiled, still looking out the window. "What about him?"

"I swear he looks a lot like the Go-Mart manager who sold me the tree, the Christmas decorations."

Sarah laughed softly. "Probably just a coincidence." Wow.

Chuck shrugged. "Yeah, guess so. Weird, though."

"The world is a lot weirder than we know, I think. But not just in bad ways…"

"No," Chuck shook his head, tightened his embrace of her, "not just in bad ways. Thank God the Buy More is cheap as hell…"

"Just my luck," Sarah said, facing him but still in the blanket, allowing her full happiness to power her smile.

He smiled back just as fully happy. "Just mine too. I am officially the luckiest person on the planet."

I think that's me, Chuck, but I am not going to argue. We are lucky.

"What happens now, Chuck?"

"Well, I want to stay, Sarah. I want to help you find a job and to find one for myself. But," he loosened his embrace, stepped back just a bit, "I don't want to crowd you. I know this is all brand-new for us both, and I'll understand if you want to slow it down. If the girlfriend/boyfriend thing is too much…"

Sarah looked into the bedroom, making sure Chuck understood where she was looking. "Did I do anything in that bed — our bed — to make you think it was too much or that I wanted to slow it down?"

Chuck's gaze drifted for a moment. He smiled and shook his head.

"Right. Not a thing. Just the opposite, if you remember...all of it."

Chuck nodded.

Sarah had shifted her gaze back to him. "Do you like this place, Chuck, this apartment?"

He turned his head, looking around. "Yeah, I do. Why?"

"The Company rented it for me. I think I mentioned to you that my quitting means they will stop. But I'm pretty sure I have the right to stay, if I want, to lease it in my name. I never even imagined I would want to do that, but now," Sarah looked around, "now, I can. We could stay here. You said you have some money; I do too. And I have the best feeling about that UN job."

Chuck nodded with excitement. "Me too. It's sorta perfect for you. Important work, allowing you to put your linguistic brilliance to use...Maybe I shouldn't say it, but as soon as I saw it, I just knew…"

"So, you would...be willing to stay here in DC, and right here, in this apartment, with me?"

Chuck's face became serious. "'Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge.' Yes, Sarah, I am more than willing, it's all I can think about, us, what's happened, our future…"

Sarah smiled so big it hurt her cheeks. "Me too, Chuck. So, we are going to do this?"

"We are. I guess we're a little crazy..."

"The best kind of crazy...And you can leave Burbank, Morgan...Ellie?"

Chuck nodded. "I can. I mean, as soon as we've got time, I want us to go out there and visit, Ellie's going to love you, and Morgan will be stunned into insensibility...I guess I need to figure out how to get my essential stuff here, but I'm pretty sure Ellie will box it up and ship it."

Chuck paused, pursed his lips, and looked embarrassed. "How do you feel about action figures?"

Sarah chuckled. "Oh, you mean dolls-for-boys?" She nudged him with her shoulder.

Chuck's face scrunched. "Hey! — Oh...um...now that I think about it, yeah, dolls-for-boys."

"How do you feel about a woman who lives out of her suitcase, even at home?"

"I can live with that. And, maybe, once this feels like home, you will be able to unpack, or let me help you unpack?"

Sarah nodded, smiling at the thought. "Just be patient with me. I've lived in transit, in translation, for so long. — Say, Chuck, that line about lodging, that was beautiful. What's it from?"

"The Hebrew Bible. I took a Bible as Literature class at Stanford and we had a lecture on that passage one day. It stuck with me, I guess."

Sarah took Chuck's hand and led him to the sofa. They sat. Sarah faced him, brushing her hair back and sighing. "My mom died when I was little, Chuck." He nodded and she knew he understood her loss. "My dad was...my dad is...dishonest. A con man, although he prefers con artist. I grew up with him, constantly on the move, constantly living on the grift, grifters. I learned how to lie instead of how to ride a bike, how to pretend to be someone I was not, instead of learning who I was. I was good at it. The things that spilled out of my suitcase are today's baggage, but there's a lot of yesterday's too, Chuck."

Chuck's eyes were warm, sympathetic. "Where's he now, your dad?"

"I don't know. Just before I...joined the Company...I left him. I couldn't do it any longer. I ran away but not from home — I didn't have one. I just ran away from him and what he had made of me. I was homeless, on the streets, for a little while. I got arrested for shoplifting. At a grocery store; I was hungry. Graham got me out of the charges and sent me to the Farm."

Sarah had looked down as she spoke. She looked up to find Chuck's eyes full of tears. "I'm so sorry...baby."

Sarah's eyes had filled too. She sniffled and smiled, though. "'Baby?'"

Chuck bit his lower lip and nodded. "Yeah, um...too much?"

"No, sweetie, not too much."

"'Sweetie?' I can't believe I've fallen for a woman who is ex-CIA but wants to call me 'Sweetie'." Chuck grinned at her.

"I can't believe I've fallen for a man whose sister will ship him action figures from the West Coast, but who wants to call me 'Baby'."

"Touché," Chuck said in concession, ducking his head, "I bow to your verbal prowess."

Sarah giggled herself into seriousness, and gave Chuck a long, searching look. "And it's not too much, my history, my story?"

"No. Not remotely. It makes me lo— care about you more, not less. Twice in your life, Sarah, twice — you've been trapped, cornered, forced into a life you really did not want, and twice you've been strong enough to say no and mean it, walk away, despite being good at what you were doing, despite the power of the men who trapped you. What you did with your dad, with Graham, the CIA, you're my hero. Heroine? Hero?..."

"Chuck," Sarah mock-warned, "If you call me 'a woman out of legend' again, I will hurt you."

Chuck closed one eye and tilted his head. "Um...Hmmm...Can you describe the procedure, in, you know, exact physical terms?"

Sarah took his hand. "I can show you, but I think we'll need a bed…"

Chuck jumped to his feet. "God, I was hoping you would say that…"

ooOoo

Sarah woke up the day after Christmas to find herself alone. But there was a note on the pillow next to her. She rolled over on her side to reach it.

Baby,

I went to the Go-Mart for coffee and breakfast. We need to go to the store. Back soon.

All yours,

Sweetie (that is with an 'i-e', right, not a 'y'?)

Sarah rolled onto her back, laughing. She heard the apartment door open.

"I'm home!" Chuck yelled in a merry voice.

Home. Some strange Christmas alchemy had made the place she lived five years without it becoming home into a home.

ooOoo

By the time Sarah had gotten up and taken a quick shower, Chuck had set out breakfast. Two cups of coffee and several fresh chocolate donuts.

Sarah went directly to Chuck and he enveloped her in his long arms.

"I didn't hurt you too bad last night, did I?"

Chuck blushed. "No, but I admit, as much noise as I made…"

Sarah kissed him. "Don't worry, I think the neighbors on both sides are away for the holidays. The folks below and above us…" she shrugged eloquently. Chuck looked at the ceiling then down to the floor. He grew redder. "Oh."

Sarah laughed and sat down. Chuck sat down next to her. He served her a donut. Sarah took it, broke it in half, put one half on her plate and dunked the other into her coffee. Chuck watched. She held it in the coffee.

"Don't tell me the well-traveled lass from…?"

"Las Vegas…"

"Really?"

Sarah nodded.

"Don't tell me the well-traveled lass from Las Vegas does not know how to dunk…"

Sarah took her donut from the coffee and managed to get the soaked portion into her mouth before it fell to the table. "Doo sho know how to dhunk," she said around her mouthful of donut.

Chuck shook his head, pulling a long face. "You don't know how to dunk…"

"Wait," Sarah said after swallowing, pulling her other half donut out of the reach of Chuck's hand. "I remember this scene. An old movie, right? Claudet Colbert and...Clark Gable. It Happened One Night. Right?!"

Chuck's Gable-grin was so slow and so sexy and it made Sarah feel giddy and breathless, ready again for bed. But she had just gotten up.

"Right. Gable's character, Peter, spends most of the movie instructing Colbert's character, Ellie — hey, Ellie again — on everything, including how to dunk donuts."

"Yeah, and on how to hitchhike," Sarah added. "But his fancy thumb-work gets no one to stop, so she bares a leg and immediately gets them a ride…"

Chuck held out his thumb. "Proving, as Ellie says, 'the limb is mightier than the thumb'," Chuck laughed.

"Hmmm…" Sarah mused, pushing her chair back and lifting the shirttails of Chuck's shirt, all she was wearing, and extending her legs. "I wonder if that's true…"

Chuck gulped. "Believe me, it's true. So true."

Sarah chuckled and dropped the shirttails, scooted back to the table. "So, how was the Go-Mart this morning. Was the Santa-y manager there?"

"No, speaking of weird, the manager who was there said that the guy yesterday was a loaner.

"A loner?"

Chuck looked confused for a second. "No, a loaner. On-loan. Today's manager's daughter was sick yesterday (she's okay now, he said) and he had to call in. They sent yesterday's manager down from some Go-Mart north of here…"

Sarah felt a tingle again, her spy sense. "Of course, they did."

"Oh, guess what else?"

"What?"

"Today's manager's brother runs a home security design firm, and they're looking for a programmer, someone to oversee the lab, the R & D side of the business. The manager talked to me then called his brother. I have an interview tomorrow."

"Chuck, that's so great!"

He gave her a happy grin. "I know. We are lucky."

Sarah looked deep into his eyes. "We are lucky. Blessed, even."

Chuck grabbed a donut. "Let me show you, Miss lass from Las Vegas, how you dunk."

Sarah watched in mock-fascination as Chuck dunked a half-donut.

Out of the blue, the procedure struck Sarah as an emblem of baptism. Putting off the old and putting on the new. Rebirth.

Chuck pulled the donut from the coffee and popped it in his mouth. Sarah sipped her coffee in thoughtful amusement.

"So what are we going to do today? Because if Ellie expects Peter to show her how to piggyback across a stream, it's a little too cold for that."

Sarah kicked Chuck gently beneath the table. "Well, I thought we could call your Ellie in an hour or two and talk to her, tell her our plans — and see about her FedExing the action figures, because I admit, the place now seems bare without your dolls." Chuck started to protest but Sarah went on. "Then I thought we'd finish my resumé and submit it online to the UN. After that, we could go to the rental office and sign the lease papers. The office staff is supposed to be in today. I saw the sign last week. Then I thought we'd go and look at some new furniture, some non-Christmas decorations for the apartment."

Chuck gave her an eager smile. "Couple stuff?"

"Couple stuff."

"So we are doing this?" Chuck asked, checking.

"We are so doing this." Sarah got up and sat on Chuck's lap, her eyes near his. "I'm in Jill's debt for chasing you from your hotel and into The Night of Joy."

"I guess it was good she wouldn't take no for an answer."

Sarah nodded. "If she had, I wouldn't have ever gotten to say yes." She pulled Chuck close and kissed him, tasting Chuck and donut and coffee, the good things in life.

Yes.

Outside the apartment building, a heavy-set man in a dark grey suit stood looking up at Sarah's window.

He was standing beside a dark red Cadillac. He had on dark sunglasses, cutting the glare of the morning sun on the new-fallen snow. He had his hand to his ear, listening, then he nodded and began to whistle tunelessly, merrily.

A very small man, so small he seemed at first glance no more than a boy, came walking to the car, carrying a cardboard to-go tray from the nearby Go-Mart, two coffees in it. He was in a dark blue suit and sunglasses.

"Well, are we done, sir? Operation Red and Green?"

The heavy-set man laughed softly. "Sub-mission complete, Mr. Upatree. We did good."

"Good. We always do. But It's getting harder and harder fitting these Christmas sub-missions in. If you don't mind me saying it, sir, neither of us is getting any younger."

"No, Shinny, you're right. But this one — it was so worth it. I'm about twelve years later than I wanted to be, I'm ashamed to say. — She's forgotten, but I haven't."

The heavy-set man reached into his jacket pocket and took out a browned sheet of paper. On it was a note, written in a girl's hand. He read the note to the small man.

Dear Santa,

I don't believe in you, but please bring me someone who loves me for Christmas.

Samantha

"Why'd it take you...us...so long, if you don't mind me asking, sir?"

"Sometimes it takes a long time to find the perfect gift."

They got in the Cadillac and headed north.

A/N: Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Thanks!

Please let me know your final thoughts.

By the way, I wrote a Casey-o-centric Christmas story concurrent with this one, A Year Without Christmas? if you haven't read it. Hope you enjoy all the Christmas stories being posted.