Author's Notes:

I recently finished reading The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King and I was amazed at his ability to write a full-length story with almost zero dialogue. Intrigued, I took a break from my current project and decided to write this quick Christmas short story. It was a challenge to remind myself that I am capable of writing without gobs of dialogue, as I am so want to do. Don't worry, though. I wasn't as spartan with my dialogue as Mr. King.

So, enjoy. Or not. That's really for you, the reader, to decide.

Also, review or don't. Doesn't really matter much. My one-shots don't usually get much notice and I've gotten used to it, so there's no pressure.

The Gift

It was the smell that she first noticed as she slowly awoke one cold December morning. It was a mixture of intangible elements which represented him, at once manly and strong, yet also with a hint of something elusive. His scent surrounded her in a protective cloud even when she slumbered and the thought soothed her. She sighed and snuggled further into the warm bed, exhaling deeply.

Heavenly.

If only Amon was actually in bed with her instead of out of bed, somewhere else, Robin would have been the happiest girl at the dance, so to speak. Instead, she was merely in his bed (a feat, no less, under normal circumstances).

Growing more conscious, Robin peeked her head from under the blanket, scanning the empty room. The rest of the flat was just as quiet. She sighed. It seemed that Amon had spent the night out. Again. Robin didn't know where he went while she slept. Possibly gathering information or perhaps just getting drunk. Whatever the reason, he apparently had enough faith in her abilities to protect herself against potential intruders. She suspected that he was unaware that she knew of his late night excursions. On days like this, when Robin caught him returning - fully dressed in the previous night's clothes - Amon would either remain silent on the matter or give some flippantly curt remark that she could never determine whether or not was the truth.

To make matters worse, Robin least favourite holiday was lurking right around the corner, ready to jump from its hiding place and devour her by drudging up all of the painful memories ske kept of the past.

Christmas season had come yet again. Just like clockwork. Every year. So depressing.

Her dislike of this holiday had developed early as an orphaned clild raised in a convent. That should be reason enough to understand Robin's feelings on the matter. She hadn't thought it possible that being with Amon - generally a good thing (for her, at least), despite his "Amon-isms" - would make the situation that much worse. He wasn't a Christmas man either and as the holidays came around, he was just as morose as she. Probably more. For both their sakes, Robin nonetheless put on her most cheerful, holiday face and tried her hardest to act as though they were a "normal" family. A difficult thing given that they were neither normal nor a family. Robin wasn't sure which neat little description fit their relationship, but she knew family wasn't it.

More like incredibly awkward, though that was hardly a legitimate category.

Robin had hoped she could persuade Amon to have Nagira over for Christmas, but had yet to work up the courage to voice this request. She knew it was pointless anyway. Knew that Amon would resist the idea, if nothing else than to be contrary. Robin could already hear the excuses from him in her mind. It would be too much of a hassle to fly Nagira to where they were and they most certainly could not fly back to Tokyo. Never in a milion years. The occasion wouldn't be as good as Robin envisioned. Why did she insist on celebrating Christmas anyway? So on and so forth.

If there was one thing Robin had learned in her co-habitation with Amon, it was that he had a well-formed excuse for everything. And for those he didn't, all it took was one stony look and it was expected that Robin would mutely and immediately comply.

It wasn't fair, but Robin supposed that was the cost of a guardian. Considering she spent every day by Amon's side, it was a small sacrifice. Not that she would need a guardian for much longer. Some nights Robin lay awake, fearful that when she turned eighteen Amon would decide she was no longer a danger or in need of a guardian. He would leave her behind for good. Though she knew this was an unlikely scenario as Amon remained amusingly paranoid about her craft and her status as the "Eve of witches", the thought still chilled her to the bone.

But back to the topic of Christmas. Robin would try asking Amon about having Nagira over and whatever he decided (no, of course), she would also need to determine a suitable gift. This was the hardest part about Christmas and aspect she hated most. The man was notoriously difficult to buy for as he didn't have many personal items and "things" in general didn't interest him. What Amon did like and/or need were either too personal (cologne or boxers, for example) or too expensive (those electronic gadgets he always seemed to collect - not that Robin could keep track of every little knick-knack he owned).

She turned over with a frustrated flop, wondering again where Amon had gone. It was possible that he was doing something nice for her. More likely he was with some woman he had just met.

The certainty of that last thought shocked Robin. Never before had she allowed herself to admit the possibility that Amon was sleeping with other women. It was silly for her to expect celibacy from a man like Amon in her presence, but yet...

Deep within the shell of her body, Robin had shed the childish crush on her partner and fallen hard for the man who vigilantly stood by her side. She knew he didn't return her love, but still, part of her ached at the thought of always being near, but never having him.

Scrunching down further into the blankets, Robin squeezed her eyes closed. She supposed that her feelings for Amon made Christmas - not to mention the dreaded present - so problematic. In her darker moods, she considered walking out on Christmas morning in nothing more than a matching set of lingerie, laughing when Amon's face froze in shock and he took in the sight of his nearly naked ward. Maybe then he would understand at last that she was no longer a child, but a woman with unmet needs.

Granted, Robin wasn't exactly sure what those unmet needs were. She had watched movies and been instructed in very basic - very clinical - descriptions of sex when she had lived in the convent, but that left a wide chasm between the two. Robin thought sex was supposed to be good for her, but it was difficult to know for sure. She very well couldn't ask Amon about the subject. Or Nagira, for that matter. Robin wished sometimes that Doujima was nearby. Sure, the woman would have laughed at her naïveté, but she would also have eagerly answered any questions Robin might have had. How she needed a female influence, if nothing else but for fashion or hair advice.

Robin shifted in bed, the thought ringing in her head, which wished Amon was lying at her side, reassuring her instead of God knew where with God knew who.

Probably in some other woman's bed, not thinking of you at all.

Robin moaned and flopped face first into the pillow. The harsh voice was right. She needed to accept that Amon wasn't interested in her - never would be - and her heart needed to accept that painful fact.

On the other hand...

On the other hand, Amon did some very interesting things when he was around her. Things that he either didn't bother hiding or didn't mask because he didn't realize he did them. For one, his eyes would soften oh so slightly when he looked to her. Or, occasionally they would run slowly down her body when she stepped out of the bathroom at night, ready for bed in her light cotton, pale green pajama set. There was also the odd times when Amon let her get away with things that he wouldn't have in the past. Like coming into the room and finding Robin fast asleep in his bed. The first time she had done so in a fit of lonely anger, she awoke to find Amon with an eyebrow raised, merely giving her a curious look. There had been no reproach in his eyes, only...something else, which Robin hadn't been able to put her finger on. Possibly want? The idea that Amon might want her sent an excited shiver down Robin's spine. It was too good to hope for. Probably nothing more than a male reaction to finding a female sleeping in his bed.

The door leading into the flat opened and Robin momentarily debated if she should greet Amon or not. Instead, she turned over on her side and purposefully closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Let him see her sleeping in his bed. She wanted him to see her. Show him that while he may not have worried about her while he was gone, she certainly had worried about him. Let him know that she was aware that he had stayed out all night, leaving his young ward so casually behind.

Coal, she thought suddenly. I'll give him coal for Christmas. It wasn't as though the man didn't deserve it. Amon's cool demeanor towards her, his late night excursions. Yes, coal seemed to fit the bill just right. And if Amon became angry, she would just tell him that Nagira had put her up to it. Robin could easily conjure an image of an impish Nagira wrapping a box filled with a lump of coal. She smiled at the idea, then remembered her place and resumed her slumbering position. It was a fun idea, but quite frankly, Robin lacked the gall to do such a thing.

Heavy footfalls sounded down the hall, pausing at her room, then continuing on to his. Robin felt Amon's stare on her back as he stood at the edge of his room, looking inside, imagine the frown forming on his face. After another moment, he sighed and turned away. She re-opened her eyes as the shower water turned on and Amon closed the door to the bathroom. That hadn't been nearly the satisfying revenge as she had hoped. Robin rose to a sitting position, glaring glumly down the hallway.

All I want for Christmas is for you to stay with me.

Truthfully, Robin wanted more, but that was a good start for a Christmas gift. The odds, however, of Amon remembering to give Robin any gift was low. Well, more like none. He hadn't bothered with a gift the past two Christmases they had shared. On the other hand, she had only managed a watch the first, a book the second, and no clue for a third. How long were they to live together? Robin grimaced at the thought. Maybe it was better to follow Amon's example and forgo the whole affair.

With a weary mind, Robin pushed the blankets back and rose from the bed. Since the bathroom was occupied, she headed for the kitchen instead. There, she rummaged through the refrigerator until she found an apple and banana. Heading next to the cupboard, Robin extracted a plate, then absently reached down to the drawer below and removed a knife. She had finished slicing her apple when Amon appeared in fresh clothes and wet hair. To Robin's childish delight, he looked worn, which she presumed indicated he had had a hard, sleepless night. That he might have spent the night enjoying a woman's company never occured to her maidenly mind.

He didn't say anything, just looked over in her direction before opening the refrigerator. After a moment, Amon closed the door without removing anything and sat down at the small table. When Robin hazarded a glance in his direction, he was drumming his fingers on the table, frowning at the window.

Amon looked to her suddenly. "Are you still hungry?" he asked.

Hand paused halfway to her mouth, Robin looked up, surprised he had spoken. She considered the question before speaking. "I suppose I am." Rising, Robin picked up her plate and depositied it on the counter.

"We'll go out then," he said.

It was so typical of him to decide their plans for the day (or their life) without consulting her first. Maybe she didn't want to go out, despite her hunger. Maybe she wanted a quiet day inside their flat. Robin nearly rolled her eyses. There were days like this she thought he treated her more as an equal in their time together as partners back at the STN-J. It was by assuming the guardian role, Amon had relegated them to the status of child and adult.

"I'll get ready," Robin mumbled instead. She didn't feel up to starting another debate with Amon over their respective statuses. A few months ago, she had broached this subject (rather unsuccessfully, she thought bitterly) and in any case, she wanted to appear somewhat agreeable if she planned to inquire about Nagira and his potential visit.

Half an hour later, they sat at a local café a few blocks from their flat, she with her standard issued espresso and he with a tall glass of ice water, waiting for a waiter to take their order. Amon had focused his attention on the menu, scrutinizing its contents and left Robin to speculate if he was seriously that interested or if it was merely his attempt to avoid her. She picked up a spoon and studied her reflection. Unlike Amon, she already knew what she wanted to order. Staring back at Robin was a pretty face, admittedly one which had grown slightly more worn since their life underground begun. It was also older, a product of time exagerrated by the light makeup she had come to wear regularly. It was an outward sign of her growing maturity. If only Amon noticed.

Robin replaced the spoon and lifted her fork. She gave it a little twirl and Amon's eyes briefly darted in her direction. It was her tell. When Robin had something on her mind, she would pick up a nearby object and twirl it in her hand, just as she did now with the fork.

It had began innocently enough when Robin began to twirl her glasses (Amon's glasses, as she had come to think of them) by one side as she contemplated one matter or another. Now, anytime Robin had something on her mind, she would absently twirl something, even her hair if nothing else was available.

After the waiter had taken their order, Amon folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. They regarded each other for a monent and Robin waited patiently for Amon to speak. Together, they had barely spoken five sentences to the other since Amon had announced their plans for breakfast.

Amon cleared his throat. "Is something on your mind, Robin?"

She replaced her fork back to its proper place on the table. "Actually, there is," she said. "Chistmas is two weeks away-" Amon stiffened, "-and I wondered if we could see Nagira." Her fingers smoothed the ugly pink tablecloth as she waited for his answer (an already obvious no).

While he had appeared initially uncomfortable with the conversation's direction, Amon was now completely aghast. "Are you serious?" he asked after a beat of silence, gaping at her. "And how do you propose we 'see' Nagira?"

"I thought we could fly him here," Robin said. She appeared calm, but was inwardly riled at his condescending tone. That was the easiest and most direct route to get Nagira out of Japan. Definitely couldn't ship him by rail across the ocean.

"Well, at least you have that much sense, because there isn't any way we could safely fly back to Tokyo." As he shook his head, Robin grew more indignant with his words and pursed her lips when he continued. "It's too dangerous - both for us and definitely for Nagira." To his credit, Amon seemed genuinely concerned for his brother's safety.

"I'm sure Nagira would want to see us. He has many contacts that could-"

"It's too great of risk, Robin." His voice was steel, cutting off her protest before it could gain momentum. "Nagira is not even supposed to know that we're alive," he added.

And, that was it for the matter, shut down before it could rise from the ground. Robin crossed her arms and slid into her seat. It wasn't as though she had expected Amon to allow Nagira a visit, it was more the swiftness of the conversation that bothered her. The finality without a proper and equal discussion. Adult and child. Rule maker and rule follower. Be a good girl and behave and I'll let you have another espresso.

Robin wanted to kick him. Lean back, aim her foot at his shin and boot him hard. Instead, she lifted the espresso cup and downed the remaining contents in one gulp, ignoring the searing pain as the liquid scalded her throat.

Definitely a lump of coal for Christmas.

"I thought you said you didn't like Christmas," Amon said, breaking into her thoughts. "Something about having bad experiences growing up in the convent."

"They weren't bad," she muttered, not looking at him. "Just spartan." And lonely.

"Nevertheless, I didn't think you liked to celebrate Christmas."

"I suppose not." And there's no use in trying around you, her mind finished. She sulked.

He frowned at her, eyes narrowed. Amon hated it when she sulked. "Is this about last night?"

"No," Robin said with as much indignation as she could muster. The nerve of him to make this some personal vendetta on her part. "I've been thinking about it for awhile."

"Whatever the reason, you need to stop sleeping in my bed. You've made your point--not to mention that it isn't appropriate," he added.

"Isn't it also not appropriate to leave you ward unprotected at all hours of the night?" she said, her voice ripe with impetulance. She stopped in surprise. Robin hadn't planned on mentioning his late night excursions. It popped out on its own from her anger.

This stopped Amon cold and his frown deepened. "You're angry," he said, as if that fully settled matters somehow.

Unable to help herself, Robin stared at him with open exasperation. "Is that all you're going to say?"

She wanted to ask more. What are you doing every night you're out? Who are you with? Why would you rather be out at night than home with me? But Robin couldn't. Then it really would be personal. Besides, Amon would never answer her directly anyway.

"I don't know why it bothers you . If it does, you should have mentioned it earlier."

Robin's exasperation increased. As if Amon would have complied so willingly to any request of hers on such an issue. She could have snorted at the absurdity.

Instead, Robin did what she always did when she was with Amon. She sighed and continued on with life as though they had reached a conclusion when nothing had been decided. Nothing at all. She remained in the child role and dutifully accepted Amon's decision to do whatever he wanted with his, and incidentally their, life.

The breakfast concluded shortly (it was mostly a moody affair anyway) and they conducted the return trip in stark silence until Robin's eyes caught at a friendly boutique window. Her feet slowed and she gaped at what was the most gorgeous and elegant scarf she had ever seen perched upon the shop's mannequin. It was a dark emerald green, covered with an exquisitely intricate design of silver and pale green beads, currently winking at her in the morning sun. The color matched her eyes perfectly. The knitted scarf bunched tightly about her throat felt shabby and old in comparison.

At that very moment, Robin knew she had to have it.

Normally, she was hardly into "things". Perhaps the ascetic lifestyle driven into her brain by countless nuns over the years at the convent had indelibly imprinted themselves into her developing mind. However, there was something inexplicable pulling her on an invisible string towards the scarf. Her eyes peered through the glass, searching for an indication of its price. Though she struggled, she could find nothing until finally the edge of a tiny white tag was spotted peeking out near the mannequin's padded neck. Instinctively - possessively - Robin leaned forward until her nose nearly touched the glass. On the white tag, she could barely make out the price.

Robin had to stop herself from gasping aloud at the price. It was expensive, yes, but far less than she had anticipated. She even had the money on her person to buy it at that moment.

Eyes alit with a mixture of eagerness and excitement, Robin turned to Amon. He still stood beside her, eyes shifting from the scarf back to her, then back to the scarf again. Her heart sank at his disapproving face. Still, Robin had to at least try. Everyone needed scarves in the winter, right? Granted, maybe not such fine quality accessories such as this, but it was hers.

"Could we stop in here for just a moment?" she asked with as much confidence as possible. Robin would not let him bully her out of this scarf.

Amon looked back through the window. "That is too much money to waste on just a scarf. We need to spend our money wisely." His steel grey eyes locked onto hers and with a sinking feeling she knew the battle was over. Robin bit her lip, but Amon wasn't finished. "You already have enough scarves," he said.

And that was the end of it. Without another word, Amon turned towards the flat. With little else to do, Robin fell in step beside him.

You jerk, her mind whispered. You big, horrible jerk. It was just a SCARF, for goodness sake.

Although it was still morning, Robin wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and wait for the next day in the foolish hope that it would be better.

She also wanted to cry. When they returned to the flat, Robin barricaded herself in the bathroom, filled up the tub with scalding water and did just that.

----------

As Christmas steadily drew nearer, Robin became more discouraged. She had done her best to put the breakfast and scarf incident behind her. There was no changing Amon's mind and she accepted that fact. It didn't help her gift dilemma. Two Christmases in and she was at a loss. Either this indicated that she didn't know Amon well enough after these years together or he legitimately didn't want/need anything. Either way it didn't help except to exacerbate her growing depression.

At one point, She briefly considered giving Amon a scarf, but that would only have served to be incredibly petty and juvenile, hardly helping her overall image that she was now an adult. Robin was back to square one.

Lump of coal, lump of coal, her mind chanted.

Robin never pressed the issue of Nagira since she brought it up, although a plain envelope had arrived a week before Christmas from him. Amon commented that such a manuever was risky and endangered them all. Robin chose to ignore him and kept the letter for herself, lovingly placing it in the back of one of her desk's drawers.

As ordered, Robin stayed out of Amon's bed, although not a difficult task considering Amon was in his bed as of late. And without Robin asking. It was a miracle. While he remained in his room, Amon still spent most of the night awake, either on his laptop or speaking into the phone. From her room, Robin could just pick out his voice and was curious enough to listen with one ear on the door a few times. She didn't chance more than that. He would have heard her in the hall, she was positive. For a man without a craft, he sure had one heck of a developed set of senses.

Through all of this, Amon began to change. He was kinder to her and took her out more often, despite his chiding on the subject of money. He seemed to understand that she was lonely and had been for most of her life. That Christmas always reminded her of the past and of being without family. He asked about her past Christmases and even ventured information about his. His feelings about Christmas didn't change, per se, but they did shift slightly and that was an encouraging start.

Christmas Eve arrived and Robin panicked. She couldn't think of a gift. Her mind was blank. There was nothing.

Get him a gun, a wry voice whispered most unhelpfully.

"He already has every kind," she muttered under her breath. An elderly woman looked sharply in the direction of a young woman speaking to the air.

At her wit's end, Robin did what she had to in situations involving Amon - she gave in. Decided to forgo the whole celebration. She was tired of the façade anyway. He had already told her that he didn't want anything. Robin thought she would feel upset at her gift failure, or at least awkward, but instead she felt only relief. At least, she wouldn't embarrass him with the wrong gift or feel embarrassed herself.

Christmas morning was quiet and mundane. A day like any other, except that it was celebrated worldwide with much jubilation and marked with a special symbol on calendars. For dinner, Amon splurged on a nearby upscale restaurant. On the walk over, Robin's eye drew to the darkened boutique as they did every time the two passed by. She had a secret hope that Amon discouraged her on purpose and bought the scarf himself. But there it was, always waiting in the window, mocking her optimism with its sparkling beads. Robin quickly averted her gaze before Amon noticed, but she suspected that he did anyway.

Robin's mind knew she shouldn't have been so upset over a single scarf. In truth, Amon spoiled her; gave her more than she needed or wanted. He put his foot down only on rare occasions. As much as Robin hated to admit it, Amon was right about not needing more scarves. She just couldn't let this scarf go.

They entered the restaurant and Robin struggled to push it aside. She instead shifted her focus to her guardian. Amon looked good tonight, she noted appreciatively. Of course, he always looked nice, but tonight he looked especially so. Or perhaps it was just the subdued lighting. She thought she had read something, somewhere, about lowered lighting masking the undesirable features in a mate, explaining why intimate restaurants used it with such abandon.

As they sat down, Amon restrained himself, only glancing furtively around a few times instead of continuously as he was want to do. He turned back and gave Robin his (mostly) full attention. Amon appeared content with his offering of dinner and Robin did her best not to spoil the evening with her dark mood. She even took him up on his offer of dessert. It did ease some of the blackness, but not as much as would have preferred.

Just as they were about to exit the restaurant, the two found themselves caught beneath a branch of mistletoe. Generally, they had an unspoken agreement to carefully sidestep these pesky Christmastime decorations, but tonight they had been too preoccupied to notice. Despite their emphatic protests, the crowd - consisting of waiting patrons and restaurant staff members - would have none of it. They seemed oddly unconcerned by the age difference. Maybe Robin had aged more than she suspected.

Exasperated, Amon finally leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. Robin closed her eyes as his scent, much stronger than the one which lingered in his bed, surrounded her and threatened to push her to her knees. When she opened her eyes, Amon's expression remained unchanged (nothing fazed him - except maybe Robin and her craft). She was disappointed, though it was to be expected. Her mood darkened again and Robin even turned down an offer of espresso on the way home. The only thing she wanted was to return home. It was late enough that she could crawl into bed and call it an early night without Amon raising a brow.

Halfway down the hallway to her room, Amon's voice called out to her. Disgruntled at the interruption and not particularly interested in anything he might have to say, Robin nonetheless turned around and stalked back into the main room.

Her feet slowed to a stop as she entered and found Amon standing in the middle of the room, holding a medium-sized box in his hands. Robin was dumbstruck, her eyes darting between the box and his face. She was so surprised, she didn't move from her spot.

"I should have given this to you earlier today," he was saying. "I couldn't find the right time." His eyes smiled as he took in her surprise. "Are you...going to open it?"

Robin slowly walked up to Amon and accepted the outstretched box. It was an elegant affair, wrapped in solid red wrapping paper and topped with a dazzling white bow. Carefully, she unwrapped the package and removed the lid. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled back the dark green sheets of tissue paper (obviously the result of a professional and not of Amon).

A hand came up sharply to cover her audible gasp. "Oh, Amon!" she exclaimed.

Inside the box and hidden beneath the volumes of Christmas green tissue paper, of course, lay Robin's beloved scarf. She scooped it up with both hands and clutched it to her chest. Glancing up, Robin found Amon watching her mostly with amusement, though there was also something else. Satisfaction, maybe. With some embarassment, Robin realized she must have looked silly sitting in her chair hugging a scarf.

"I-I didn't think you would get me anything and the scarf was still in the window," she stammered. And you chided me on having too many scarves, her mind added.

"The shop had more than the one in the window," Amon said, his patient smile increasing.

She reddened at her naïveté. Of course they did.

"I hope you're not too upset with me," Amon said, his gentle voice catching her off guard. "I know that I've been gone more than I should and that Christmas brings painful memories for you. That is why when I saw how much you wanted the scarf, I thought it would be a good Christmas gift from me." He paused. "I told you a couple of weeks ago - and I don't think you believed me at the time - but I was serious. If I do something which displeases you, please tell me. I don't want you to be angry with me."

Robin struggled to hold back happy tears, surprised by his words. She wanted to take him up on the offer, ask him where he went at night, with whom he spoke on the phone, but it wasn't the time. Not yet. Life was going too well at the moment for her to spoil it with needless questions. Amon would tell her when he was ready. At least he stayed home at night.

Her happiness evaporated.

"But I didn't get you a gift!" she said. After all of her dark thoughts towards Amon, now this debacle.

"I know. I didn't want anything."

"Well, I need to do something," she insisted, still quite distressed.

Robin stood up and padded quickly to where Amon stood. Standing on her toes with the scarf still clutched tightly to her chest with one hand, she kissed his cheek, his stubble biting at her lips. His face showed visible signs of surprise when she stepped aside, but he hadn't pulled away as Robin expected. He appeared more amused than anything else. Blushing, she took another step back and smiled shyly.

It wasn't a perfect Christmas, but it was definitely a start.

The End.