"Cider, I think, do you have any cinnamon sticks?"

"I bought some specially, I remembered how you and Gramp always liked it that way." A dear friend of her grandfather's, Hamilton Z was the closest thing to family she had left.

"You miss him don't you?" he said softly when she brought the mugs of cider to the living room and settled into the large overstuffed chair after handing him his cup.

"Of course I do, especially on Christmas." She looked down into her mug of warm spiced cider and tried not to think about the family she'd lost all those years ago.

Himself a widower with no relatives, Hamilton had stepped in as sort of a surrogate father when her parents were killed during her sophomore year of college. After graduation he also took on the role of employer, utilising her mechanical talents in his electronics shop. Over the last few years, the two of them had developed a tradition of Christmas eve dinner at a nice restaurant, followed by presents and cookies back at her townhouse overlooking Boston Common. Every year, he would pretend to want to go home, but then let her talk him into staying the night so they could go to Christmas morning brunch at the Four Seasons.

* * *

"I'm sorry sir, all flights have been cancelled by the storm." Julian glared at the cellphone, the perky voice of the airline clerk was truly beginning to annoy him. He gained a tiny bit of satisfaction by pressing the End button in reply to her cheerful 'Is there anything else I can do for you?' question.

"Wonderful, another sodding Christmas and I can't even go home," he muttered under his breath as he wiped the condensation fog on the inside of the car windscreen. On street parking was at a premium on Beacon Hill and over the last few days he'd learned to consider his next move carefully before giving up his space. Deciding that food would be a good idea, he surveyed the surrounding blocks and spotted an Italian bistro, a steakhouse, and a small place claiming to be Boston's best seafood grille and oyster bar. Any one of them would suffice, provided it had a liquor license.

He turned up the collar of his tan cashmere top coat and stepped out of the car just as his cell phone rang. "Hello.....Yes Gervase, it's snowing..... no, nothing's moving out of here tonight, looks like I'm stuck here until morning.... oh very funny, if they refuse the expense account slip I'll tell them to put it on your tab....... Actually I was just going in search of a bite to eat...... Don't start....... I know you mean well, but I am not going to show up on the doorstep of some agent I've never met on Christmas eve....... goodbye Gervase." He flipped the phone closed and put it back in his pocket. Before he could pull on his leather gloves and close the car door, the phone rang again. Checking the caller ID window, he took a deep breath and glared at the thing. "I said no Gervase.... yes, I'm aware of Hamilton's friendly disposition but I am not in need of company tonight and after this assignment I'm not in the mood to make pleasant conversation..... I don't care.....NO!" With that, he stabbed the power button and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat before slamming the car door and heading off down the block.

"I'm very sorry sir, without a reservation the best I can do is about an hour, appetisers and oysters can be ordered from the bar if you'd care to wait," the maitre'd suggested. It had been the same story at each place he'd come to along the street, at least this one had an actual bar instead of just a small lounge area. Julian found a stool in the corner and ordered a vodka with a request to keep them coming.

* * *

"Oh Hamilton, he's adorable," Arianna squealed as she unwrapped the tissue and found a small Steiff teddy bear made of scruffy brown mohair fur, with glass bead eyes and a pink felt tongue.

"He's a replica of one of their 1957 models," Hamilton said, pleased to see her so happy with his gift. He'd already put on the grey cashmere sweater vest she'd given him.

"I hope he'll get along with the one Gramps gave me," she teased, glancing at the tiny cream colour bear sitting in a willow stick chair on the corner of the mantelpiece. An actual 1957 model her grandfather had purchased the day she was born, he was less than three inches tall, but completely jointed with poseable arms and legs and a head that turned to the cutest angles.

"I'm sure he will, after all, both being made by Steiff and company, they're family. But remember, you have to be in bed by midnight so the animals can talk to each other."

She smiled wistfully as she moved to the mantle. "Gramps always told me that too, we used to set all my soft toys together on the sofa so they could have a party at midnight." Setting the new bear next to her antique, she giggled. "There, now they can get acquainted. What time shall I wake you for brunch in the morning?"

"You're not going to let me pretend to be going home this year?" He stood up and stretched, yawning tiredly.

"Nope, the guest room is all made up and ready for you. Merry Christmas Hamilton, thanks for being here." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then closed the fireplace doors as the blaze died down.

"It's my pleasure my dear, you're the closest thing I'll ever have to a daughter, sleep well."

Arianna checked that all the doors and windows were secure before turning on the alarm and going to her bedroom. She liked to sleep in a cool room so the heat register was partly closed, making the room about 10 degrees cooler than the rest of the house and much cooler than the living room when the fireplace was in use. Pulling her flannel sleepshirt over her head, she shivered slightly and quickly snuggled under the thick fluffy comforter on the bed.

* * *

Finishing his third shot, Julian looked around at all the couples and assorted parties filling the small restaurant. Everyone seemed to have a companion for the night. Never his favourite season, the number of years he'd spent the holidays alone, or in foreign places, far outnumbered his happy Christmas memories. There had been some. At home, in England, when he was young, at least the years before his brother had died were happy. There were a few good times with his mates at University, and that year he and Alex spent three days in Switzerland, but more often than not, he was travelling, either on his way to, or back from, an assignment.

"Flight home cancelled by the storm?" the bartender asked.

"Yes," Julian answered as he picked up the next shot glass.

"How about an appetiser?"

"No thank you."

"I've got a shrimp cocktail with your name on it."

"You don't know my name," Julian grumbled.

"Sure I do, miserable Englishman stranded in Boston on Christmas eve."

"Nice try," he almost cracked a smile. "Very well, I might as well have something to eat, it has been a long day."

"Here on business?" the other man asked, determined not to let the conversation die.

"You could say that."

"Let me guess," he said, perusing the dark Armani suit, silk shirt and expensive overcoat. "Stockbroker? Banker? Antiques dealer?"

"I take out the garbage," Julian muttered, thankful when a patron at the other end of the bar called the tender away. After serving the other customer, he ducked under the bar and disappeared across the restaurant toward the kitchen.

"I hate to say it, but I think they've forgotten about you, I checked the reservation list and there's no party of one listed," the bartender said when he came back with a large plate of shrimp laid out on a bed of ice, surrounding a crystal dish of spicy cocktail sauce and two lemon wedges.

"It doesn't matter, this will be enough at this point," Julian mumbled, upending the empty glass and lining it up next to the other five. It was so late now, he really didn't care if he ate anything or not, but he was fond of shrimp.

The cold air was like a slap in the face when he first stepped outside the bar, but by the time he reached his car and fumbled with his keys, dropping them in the snow not twice, but three times, Julian realised he was in no condition to drive. His hotel was just across the Common and he thought the walk might help sober him up, or at least tire him out so he could get a good night's sleep, for a change.

Surprised at how deserted the park seemed now, after the hustle and bustle of just a few hours ago, he started down one of the paved paths that bisected the large expanse of trees and statuary surrounding the central pond. The widest paths had been plowed since the rush hour snowstorm, leaving banks along each side of the walkway about three feet deep. The clear path was not the shortest way across the park but it was definitely the easiest to follow. Nearing the far side of the pond he thought he heard someone behind him but turned and saw nothing. His head was pounding as he steadied himself against one of the iron lamp poles. It seemed as though he'd come a long way, but the hotel on the other side of the park still appeared to be no closer. Thinking that perhaps taking a hike after the liquid dinner he'd just had wasn't such a swift idea he suddenly heard something else, the all too familiar sound of a gunshot followed by feet running away. Before he could turn to see where the noise came from, he felt himself falling into the snowbank at the base of a boxwood hedge, and all was darkness.

"Come on Jules, there's snow!" his

his brother cried. "If we hurry, we can be outside before Simmons starts serving breakfast."

Looking sleepily out the second floor nursery window, Julian saw that the broad expanse of lawn was covered with a twinkling blanket of fluffy white. The evergreen trees and the boxwood maze looked as if they'd been dusted with confectioner's sugar.

"Father will be angry if we go out without telling anyone again," he protested, remembering the scolding he'd gotten the last time his older brother had convinced him to sneak out of the house but nonetheless, pulling on a heavy sweater and wool pants while looking around the room for his boots and mittens.

"Where's your sense of adventure - come on." James was halfway down the carved mahogany staircase before his brother caught up to him. They crept silently past the enormous Christmas tree, decorated with all sorts of small packages wrapped in bright coloured shiny paper, then snuck past the opening of the hallway leading to the kitchen just as the tall clock in the foyer struck half six. As quietly as possible, they unlatched the conservatory door and were out on the stone patio in no time.

Running down the steps and out across the open lawn Julian raced toward the maze. Just once, he wanted to be the first one to reach the centre. Halfway across the expanse of unmarked white, he felt a cold wetness hit the back of his head and turned to see James running less than ten feet behind him with another snowball in his hand. "You don't think I'm going to let you be first do you little brother?" the older boy sneered, pelting him in the ear with the second ball, this one harder packed than the first. As they neared the maze, they were running side by side, but at the last minute, James veered left and pushed Julian, making him stumble and fall to the ground face first in the snow. He looked up just in time to see his brother disappear through the four foot opening in the hedge. Both of the boys had long ago memorised the sequence of turns leading to the centre of the labyrinth of six foot hedges, so it was only a case of who started first that determined the winner.

Julian was disappointed, he'd thought now that he was six, he might have a chance at beating James to the maze on the day of the first snowfall, but now there was no point of following his brother into the bushes. Six years older, James always won no matter what the game, but worse than that, any time the two of them got into trouble he had an uncanny skill of laying the blame on Julian. It was no wonder he was father's favourite. Discouraged, he got up and moved to a clear patch of snow, at least he could still enjoy the thrill of making first tracks. Pacing a large square, he proceeded to fill the design with a series of concentric circles, reaching the centre, he flopped down on his back and moved his arms up over his head to form angel wings. He lay there looking up at the sky until the cold and damp began to seep through his overcoat.

His hands and ears were cold, for that matter, all of him was cold. He put his left hand into his pocket and it felt warmer, but he soon realised it was a sticky, wet warmth. When he tried to roll over the warmth spread through his side as a searing, throbbing pain. Julian opened his eyes and blinked as they adjusted to the darkness, wondering 'where the hell am I?' until he remembered 'oh yes, Boston'.

The only light was from the replica of an antique street lamp on the other side of the path from where he'd fallen, but even in the dim glow, he could see that his hand came away from his side covered in blood. "Oh wonderful," he laughed, "splendid way to spend the holiday." With difficulty, he managed to sit up and fish a handkerchief from his trouser pocket but the exertion made him feel sick to his stomach and dizzy. Willing himself not to be sick just now, he managed to ball up the cloth and press it into the hole in his side before everything got fuzzy and dark again.

* * *

Arianna woke with a start and felt a cold shiver run down her back. She sat up and listened but heard nothing out of the ordinary. Even though the glowing numbers on her clock told her it was after 1am, her room was quite light from the streetlamps on the Common reflecting off the blanket of white snow. After a few minutes she settled back into the bed and rolled over to go back to sleep, but by 2am she was still awake. Wrapped up in her green plaid fleece robe and slippers, she checked the house just to try and shake the uneasy feeling she couldn't quite figure out. Everything was secure, the bears were quiet, and Hamilton was snoring evenly in the guest room, but she just couldn't seem to settle down. She stood at the bedroom window looking out over the Common for a long time, but nothing was moving, there was just a lovely layer of pristine white covering the trees and bushes around the pond. Even the traffic had subsided, the whole city seemed to be asleep. With a sigh, she climbed back into bed and finally slept restlessly.

* * *

"So, who am I this time?" the thin blond asked, wearing only a red satin slip and posing seductively against the door frame.

"Why not be Alex for a change?" he asked, setting his mug of tea down on the coffee table and moving to stand in front of the sofa.

"But that's no fun," she pouted.

"We're not working now, it's just you and me. For the next two days, you can just be yourself."

"So, does that mean you're just Julian instead of Oliver?"

"No," he shook his head, "you know as long as I'm working for the Committee, it has to be Oliver." She moved came across the living room and wound her arms around the back of his neck, kissing him softly. Outside the chalet all was snow and cold, but here in front of the fire was toasty and warm, and he could tell from the look in her eyes their night was only going to get warmer.

"So, what would you like to do tomorrow? Skiing? Shopping? We have all of Gstaad at our disposal." He pushed her hair back and nuzzled the side of her neck.

"I think I'd like to stay right here," she grinned slyly, pushing him back against the sofa until he had no choice but to sit, then laying him back against the cushions and climbing on top with her knees straddling his hips. Slowly, she unbuttoned the green silk shirt then leaned forward to kiss his chest as she ran her hands over the fine soft hair, pushing the fabric back toward his strong shoulders. "Just lie still and let me pamper you for a change," she whispered. Moving upward, she trailed her kisses to the base of his neck, along one side and then the other, then up to the side of his chin.

The perfect lamplighter, Alex could change disguises at the drop of a hat, changing to a completely different personality as the assignment required. While perfect for undercover work, it was a bit unsettling at times, sometimes he didn't know who he was with. This 'cheap hooker routine' seemed to be her personal favourite and though not quite what he'd have chosen, he had to admit it was an interesting way to pass the time.

Julian felt a warm wetness stroking his cheek, then something soft nudging his neck, and a heavy weight pressing on his chest as the stroking resumed on his face. He slowly opened an eye and found himself nose to nose with an enormous face of brown and white fur. The huge St. Bernard was lying with its front paws across his chest and continued licking his face until he raised a hand to touch it's collar. "Uh, nice doggie," he groaned. The added weight on his chest was making it difficult to breathe and he thought about trying to push the beast off, but actually the warmth of the animal's body almost felt good. He closed his eyes against the early morning light reflecting off the show with a brilliance that stabbed at the splitting ache in his head. The ringing in his ears didn't help either.

"Bruno. Here Bruno. Where are you?" He heard a woman's frantic voice somewhere in the distance but calling out required more energy than he could muster.

"I think you're being paged," he mumbled to the dog, noticing for the first time the long black webbing leash attached to its collar. Julian breathed a bit easier when the animal finally moved off of his chest and sat close beside him, but when it started barking, the pain in his head made him wish it would lay back down, be quiet, and just let him die in peace.

"Oh my god! Bruno, bad dog, what have you done?" the woman screamed when she came running around the corner of the path and spotted them. "I'm so sorry, we were walking and he pulled away from me, did he knock you down? Are you all ri....." Her eyes widened when she saw the dark red stain on the side of his coat and in the snow beside him.

"No, not his fault," Julian tried to speak, but the sound of his own voice was barely a whisper.

"Don't, don't move, stay, just stay right there. I'll go call for an ambulance. Bruno, stay!" As she turned and ran down the path in the opposite direction, the dog lay down as close beside him as possible with its head resting on his shoulder. Julian weakly patted the dogs head and looked into the soulful brown eyes, whispering "Happy Christmas Bruno," as the world faded to black once more.

* * *

The sound of sirens woke her just before 7am, but by the time she'd fought her way out of the tangle of bedding and made it to the window, all she saw was an ambulance pulling away from the far side of the Common, leaving two police cars behind. Groggy but not really interested in going back to sleep, she put on her robe and slippers and went to the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate. The few hours of sleep she'd gotten when she went back to bed had been spent battling unseen attackers in most unpleasant dreams. When the electric teapot snapped off she filled the mug and took it to the living room. Curled up in the overstuffed chair next to the window, she watched as the city started to come to life. The first ones in the park every morning were the joggers and people walking their dogs. Next would come the tourists, and people on their way to work. Although today being Christmas there would be far less than the usual number of commuters. Later in the day would come the teens hanging around idly, and the young couples trying to steal a few moments away from their watchful parents. In just a few hours, the city was busy with activity.

"How long have you been up?" Hamilton asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Since about seven," she yawned.

"I thought you'd sleep late today, you're always complaining about my making you get up early for work."

Knowing he'd fuss if she told him of the strange uneasiness, she opted for the obvious. "There were sirens on the other side of the Common, and once I'd gotten up to look, I was restless. Couldn't see anything though, probably just another mugging."

"Well, our brunch reservation is for 10am, so you'd better go get dressed, it's already after nine."

"Okay, help yourself to coffee, tea, whatever you can find in the kitchen, I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

* * *

"Ow!" Julian felt a sharp pain when he moved his arm and squinted against the fluorescent light at a strange assortment of bottles and plastic bags hanging over his head. Some were clear and some were red, but all were dribbling into tubes that wrapped around a metal pole and ended up stuck into his arm. Another machine in the room beeped steadily as it read the heartbeats through the sensor taped to his chest, and he could feel the twinge of bandages and tape on his side.

"Bloody hospitals," he muttered, trying to feel for the side of the bed so he could sit up.

"No, no, don't try to move," a woman in a pink lab coat suddenly appeared through the open door and put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back against the bed while she took his wrist in her other hand and felt for his pulse. "You've lost a lot of blood, if you sit up now, you'll probably passout again. Just stay flat until we can replenish your fluid levels."

"How long?" he cleared his throat, his tongue felt as if it were made of sandpaper. "How long have I been here?"

"Only a few hours, they brought you in about 7:15. Do you know what day this is?"

"Yes, it's Christmas."

"Good, and do you know who you are?"

"Of course," he whispered, clearing his throat again.

"Well, you're one up on us then. You had no ID on you. There's a policeman outside the door waiting to finish his report. We don't usually allow visitors in ICU but, are you up to talking with him?"

"First, I need to make a telephone call," he said weakly.

"I can help him dial the phone," said the big man standing in the doorway.

"This is Detective Winslow, he just needs a few details. I'll be right outside, just ring the buzzer if you need anything," she said to Julian, then to the other man she whispered "He won't be awake very long."

"Well, looks like you had a busy Christmas eve, care to tell me what happened?" Winslow moved to the side of the bed as soon as the nurse left the room.

"Phone first, please." Julian whispered.

The detective picked up the room phone and realised that the cord was nowhere near long enough to reach the bed so he handed Julian his own cellphone. Slowly using his thumb to press the standard HQ number and then the passcode, Julian carefully put the phone to his ear.

"Gervase, it's Julian, I should have listened to you last night, I appear to be shot...... all right." Keeping his eyes open was becoming quite a struggle so he handed the phone to the detective whispering " Here, it's for you." before he closed them again.

"Detective Winslow here, hello?....No sir, he had no ID on him...... but, we don't even....yes, yes, yes, I understand...... will do...... yes, it will be taken care of..... I understand..... yes sir, you too." The detective closed the phone and put it back in his pocket, looked at Julian and sighed, then took the papers on top of his notepad and tore them into little bits.

"Everything all right in here?" the nurse peeked in. "I could tell from the monitors that he was asleep again," she shrugged. "Did you get what you needed?"

"No, but it doesn't matter now, leave him as a John Doe as far as the hospital records are concerned, his agency will send someone to collect him later today, *officially* this never happened. They want you to keep him isolated and asleep until a Mr. Hamilton Z gets here, he'll arrange transport."

* * *

"Another cup of tea?" the waiter asked Arianna as Hamilton finished his slice of chocolate mousse cake. The Four Season brunch had been wonderful as always with everything imaginable to eat, topped off with an enormous table of over 15 dessert selections. Arianna had been happy with a slice of warm gingerbread and a caramel custard where Hamilton had chosen four different sweets.

"Yes thanks." The waiter refilled her cup as Ham reached for his slice of lemon meringue pie.

"Anything for you sir?"

"No thanks, I'm all set." Barely two forkfuls into the thick creamy topping, Hamilton reached to his pocket and retrieved his beeper. "Damn," he cursed, looking at the display window.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, nothing, just the main office, I need to phone in, I'll be right back." He left her at the table with orders to guard his remaining desserts. Arianna had finished her tea, and was starting to worry by the time he returned. He seemed distracted and didn't seem to notice she'd stolen a mouthful of meringue.

"Anything wrong?" she asked, concerned by the unhappy look on his face.

"Nothing you can help with, just some merchandise that needs to be shifted. I've got to go out of town for a couple of days. We're not very busy at the shop this time of year, why don't you take the rest of the week off and relax a bit. You haven't had a day off in months and who knows what adventures the new year might bring."