A.N's: Now we travel over to a little town called Cape Saint Claire where we find our other Eppes brother enjoying his Christmas Eve.
Acknowledgements: Once again, thanks to Jo and Math who have given me feedback on these two pieces and encouraged me.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Numb3rs. Perhaps if I've been a really good girl, Santa will bring it too me.
"…I don't want a lot for Christmas, there's just one thing I need…"
The serene sounds of lapping water from the nearby Chesapeake Bay and the rustling of ice-laden branches embraced the only three occupants of the patio.
The sounds combined with the clear sky overhead made for an atmosphere that was relaxing and peaceful. Just what the holiday season called for.
He gazed overhead, mindful at the same time of the darkness which made it rather hard to see the stone ground beneath him; Don breathed in deeply then released the air in a puff of white steam.
They looked like snow clouds. What a Christmas that would be, he thought. Don couldn't remember the last time he had seen real snow. Though his family had been coming back to Maryland for the last three Christmases, snow had not once fallen. Instead the weather had been icy and cold.
"…I won't even wish for snow…"
A new sound joined the nightly ones, jarring him from his heavenly watch of the high wispy clouds.
Don looked over at the woman walking next to him and the small figure in her arms. His wife's heel caught another groove in the stone patio, which led to the other side of the house where the three of them were staying.
Peyton shifted Donovan from one shoulder to the other, bringing him closer to Don.
"I can take him for you, Peyton," he whispered softly, looking over to his son's sleeping face.
Her head shook left and right a few times as they came closer to the double set of doors that opened into their rooms. Don and Peyton had been given the same set of rooms that they had stayed in last Christmas and the one before that. They were always on the first level of the large house, tucked away in one wing that offered seclusion from the rest of the Huntzbergers.
"…I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know…"
Not that there wasn't plenty of room on the upper levels, but the two had wanted their own space and Amelia had understood with a few choice words from his father in-law, Damin. Besides, there were only so many times that Amelia could bait her granddaughter and not have her rise to the occasion; Don had a hard time when it came to holding Peyton back from retorting.
Far too alike for their own good, he thought, thinking of his wife and her grandmother.
His in laws weren't too bad as far as others were concerned. Her grandparents weren't crazy and his wife's father had liked him from the very beginning three years ago. His situation was unlike that of his brother who'd had a hard time winning over the Ramanujans.
That had been an interesting dinner at the Craftsman.
Don smiled inwardly as his wife, now fed up with the grooves in the patio's stone ground, bent down to remove her shoes. He had to bite back a comment when Peyton shrunk down two inches, sighing in comfort and remaining completely oblivious to his amusement:
"…Much better now. That's okay. I have him. He finally fell asleep somewhere in between my father carrying him around on his shoulders and trying to escape from Mrs. Nost exclaiming over how handsome he is."
"Well, Donovan is my son after all. Naturally he would take after me," he cheekily responded as he opened the other patio door, "Ladies first."
She walked backwards over the doorstep. As she dropped her shoes next to the oak door with a loud clunk, that Cheshire Cat like grin spread across her face. "Oh? Why else do you think I married you? Certainly not for your humor."
The door closed with a snap and the frigid December air was shut out. Warmth spread out in waves, the invisible currents seeping around them and blanketing their skin.
Don feigned hurt with a wounded expression and a hand thrown over his heart. "Ouch. So mean and on Christmas Eve too."
Their two year old son slumbered on in his mother's arm. The child was blissfully ignorant of his parent's loving banter.
Peyton let out a little hum. "Mmm. I'm sorry." Her gaze dropped down to Donovan's resting head, his eyes closed tight, face relaxed, little arms hanging limply. "I should get him to bed. He'll be waking us up early."
The grin on Don's face would not go away. No doubt her words were true; his son had inherited Peyton's love for Christmas. He could remember Christmas at the Craftsman years ago when he was a little kid. Margaret Eppes had insisted upon having a real tree to go alongside the menorah and a real tree was what had appeared downstairs every year.
Don pressed close, leaning down to gently stroke the top of Donovan's head. Their first child had his dark hair, already showing signs of the famous Eppes curls. However, resting behind those closed lids were his wife's dark green eyes.
"…And the sound of children's laughter fills the air…"
The toddler didn't stir in the slightest. Don pressed a soft kiss among the curls, whispering good night, and then leaned up to steal a quick one from his wife. Her lips held the kiss for a moment, gently giving in and parting ever so slightly.
She pulled back and the dark glitter of her eyes was not lost upon him.She sent him a beguiling smile over her shoulder as she walked from the sitting area to Donovan's room.
Don flicked the switch of the table lamp, releasing the light's glow around the room. He could hear Peyton singing in the next room. The words of her lullaby were lost but he recognized the melody; it was a favorite of Donovan's and had become a bedtime ritual.
It had all started one night when their son had heard his mother humming while putting away dishes. After that, Donovan, in true two year old fashion, had all but demanded that his mother sing that lullaby to him every night, refusing to go to sleep until she complied.
Don was slightly thankful that his son was asleep already. Though Peyton had now grown accustomed to singing without being asked, the lullaby phase had recently passed, only to be replaced with the story time phase. Donovan now demanded that his father read to him every night and Don was only too happy to comply. The story from last night about a lost puppy was beside the two year old's bed.
Wind blasted against the glass of the patio door and Don stepped closer. Looking over his shoulder and seeing that he was still alone, he turned the latch. The frigid air wrapped around him again, howling and tugging at his body, but he only rolled his shoulders; his coat slid up and around his neck, the warm fabric providing excellent insulation.
His fingers dug down into his pockets and he stamped his feet twice. Don hadn't chosen to come back outside to just experience the night air. The quiet nature gave him a moment's respite and a chance to take everything in.
Through the bare trees he could see the dark water of the Chesapeake Bay. If he strained his ears and listened, Don could hear the water as it was pushed around by the wind.
It was pretty out here. December in Los Angeles was nothing like December in Maryland. For one thing the temperatures were definitely milder in his home town. But it was nice to have a change every now and then.
Growing up, his family had never been overly religious. Love and family had been the most important thing that Alan and Margaret Eppes had stressed to him and Charlie.
His wife's family was a little different. The Huntzbergers were not overly religious either, but they were somewhat Methodist in their faith. Christmas was a celebrated thing, something that Peyton had flown back East to every year after moving to Los Angeles, and just so happened to be her favorite holiday.
It was important to her and since it hadn't caused a major debate with his brother or father, Don had agreed that this time of the year would be hers. In fact, his father had insisted upon it, telling Don that he had a new family as well as his old one.
And so Christmas was spent with the Huntzbergers. Besides, his father still got Thanksgiving, a day that Peyton claimed belonged to Alan and his most excellent cooking skills.
"There you are."
His silent musings were broken by the arrival of his thoughts.
Peyton joined him, looking out towards the far off water and burrowing as close to him as she could possibly get. She was always cold; a characteristic that he had discovered one morning a few years ago when he had woken up to find her curled next to him tighter than what had seemed humanely possible.
He pulled her closer and moved his jacket until she was underneath it.
"…'Cause I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight…"
"I thought you'd disappeared on me," she mumbled into his shirt.
"Nah. You haven't gotten rid of me yet. Just came out here to see the view." Don trailed his left fingers across her hip, the tips of the digits creating patterns with no meaning. Sliding from her hip, Don's hand moved until it rested against her stomach. The slight roundness was hidden beneath the swingy fabric of the black dress.
Four months. Only five more and Donovan would no longer be the only child to sing lullabies or read bedtime stories to.
"The water is pretty tonight," she murmured in agreement.
"Are you feeling okay?" The flight yesterday had made their future child upset and the soon to be mother irritable in return; the couple in the other aisle had found it slightly humorous to watch Peyton in her attempts to negotiate with what had appeared to be her stomach.
She nodded and raised her head to look at him. "Much better than yesterday. It would seem that our daughter takes after her Uncle Charlie when it comes to flying. Though why he gets antsy on a plane is beyond me. He knows the statistics and probabilities for dying in a plane crash."
"It's Charlie," Don stated.
"You have a point there."
They both fell silent and a few minutes went by.
Finally she spoke again: "Thank you."
His brown eyes looked down at her upturned face. "Thank you for what?"
Peyton blinked slowly and a lazy smile drifted across her face. "For coming back here with me. I know you like to be with Charlie and Alan, and it means a lot to me that you come back with me every year."
"Aww, hell, Peyton. This is my family now too, just like how Dad loves you and Amita. We always get to see Charlie and everyone else. You don't get to see your father or grandparents that often and don't tell them this, but I actually like your family. You don't need to say thank you." Words like those would have been awkward to Don Eppes four years ago. Now they came naturally, rolling off his tongue with ease.
"I know. But it still means a lot. And it never hurts to say thank you." Green eyes disappeared and all he saw was tawny colored hair.
A sudden thought came to him as he remembered his earlier musings about his family and their past holiday seasons. "Why does Christmas mean so much to you? I know it's your favorite holiday, but I don't ever remember asking you why. I don't know why I didn't."
Her green eyes reappeared, her mouth opening to give a quick response and then shutting just as quickly.
After a minute her arms tightened around his waist and she laid her head back down to his shoulder. "I suppose as I child I loved Christmas because that is what all children do. It's just that holiday season. When I got older and after I decided to become a forensic scientist against my grandparents' wishes, Christmas was the one time where I could come home and neither of them would say anything about what a mistake I had made or the disappointment I had brought them. My father didn't have to stand up for me and tell them that it didn't matter that I hadn't become an attorney or a Senator. It's… It's peaceful, you know? You and I both see horrible things ever day. We don't get to go home at night and pretend that the dead sixteen year old never happened. But at this time of the year, for just these few days, I can pretend that I only need you and Donovan and our daughter. I can put everything else aside. Does that make any sense?"
"It makes perfect sense," Don leaned down and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. "So is this Christmas everything you wanted?" His tone and demeanor left behind the seriousness.
"Of course. All I want for Christmas is you." Her Cheshire Cat grin came back.
"No snow?" Don asked teasingly. Peyton had a fascination with snow, created by the fact that Los Angeles had none.
"…This is all I'm asking for…"
"Not even snow. And speaking of cold weather: It's cold out here. Come on. Your wife is tired. She wants sleep. You son will be waking us up early and there's no telling what your daughter will be doing to me in the morning."
He raised one eyebrow and grinned. "Now he's my son again? How is it that he's always mine when he's done something wrong?"
She didn't respond except to roll her eyes and grab onto his hand, tugging until both of his feet moved.
Silently the happy couple walked back from where they had come, leaving behind the winter trees, December air, and glossy black water.
If either of them had bothered to stay for an extra minute or happened to glance outside their window as they curled around one another in bed, they would have seen the sudden blast of wind and what it brought with it:
One by one at first and then gaining in volume, snowflakes danced their way to the ground. Come morning it would blanket the entire patio and house, covering the bushes, trees, roof and stones.
But neither of them did bother to look and neither of them really cared, content in having one another on this night.
That was after all what the holiday season was truly about: family and love.
Comments are always welcome.
With that said: Happy Holidays to everyone.
Love,
M.E.