Rating: PG

Category: Drama

Series/Sequel: Companion to "You Are Protected."

Warnings: OC's if that's not your thing. This is also one of those "Jim/Blair grow up, get married, and have a family" types of stories.

Notes: If you haven't read "YAP," that's okay, you won't be too confused. This is a series of chapters in the lives of Jim, Blair and their respective families, all set in the loft over a period of years. Thanks to HBO for title inspiration. Grace, Daniel and Mallory belong to me. Everyone else doesn't.

Standard disclaimers apply.

~*~*~*~

The loft hung heavily with the scents of scrambled eggs, cinnamon rolls and fresh-brewed coffee. Jim Ellison studiously finished the last of the breakfast dishes while Blair Sandburg—his best friend of five years—filled four mugs with coffee and herbal tea. Margaret, fairly glowing in her ninth month of pregnancy, was watching Megan attempt to quiet her own fussy newborn. As Blair turned towards the living room, he noticed a small package sitting un-opened on the TV.

"What's that one?" Blair asked, placing the tray of steaming mugs on the coffee table.

Margaret followed his gaze and smiled. "It was supposed to be for this little one's first Christmas," she replied, caressing her swollen belly. "But she's decided to wait until after Christmas to be born."

"He's decided," Jim said stubbornly. He settled onto the couch next to his wife.

"You're still holding onto the hope that it'll be a boy?" Megan asked. She gently rocked Daniel, hoping to calm his fussiness.

"Until the doctor tells me otherwise, I am," Jim replied.

"But what's in the package?" Blair persisted, taking the screaming baby from Megan.

"Baby Jesus," Margaret said. "First in a twenty-one piece nativity set. We wanted to give her—"

"Him," Jim interjected.

Margaret quirked an eyebrow. "—Her one piece each Christmas until she had them all."

"He'll be twenty-one," Jim said.

"She'll be in college."

"The head of his class."

"She'll be engaged."

Jim looked horrified. "If it's a girl, she won't be allowed to date until she's thirty. I know how college guys are, I've lived with one," he said, tossing a meaningful glance at Blair.

Blair feigned innocence. "What?"

"I think the nativity is a grand idea," Megan said. She frowned at her husband who was having no luck in quieting Daniel. "Maybe he needs to be changed."

Blair shook his head, feeling the bottom of the diaper. "You just changed him an hour ago."

"Let me hold him," Margaret offered, putting her tea mug down.

Blair stood up and carried the infant over to the couch, laying her gently in Margaret's lap. Daniel continued to fuss for a few moments, before squirming down until his head rested against Margaret's stomach. The lines on his face softened and the distressed wails ceased. In minutes, Daniel was fast asleep.

The four adults watched in stunned silence. Jim and Blair looked up, their eyes meeting in an understanding gaze, and smiled.

~*~*~*~

"Gracie, honey," Margaret said. "You've got another one."

She slid the small, rectangular box in front of the toddler, but Grace was busy. The two-year old was playing a game with Daniel and a pile of colorful wrapping paper.

Blair laughed from his spot on the floor. "I think they've been presented out. You're spoiled, aren't you?" he asked, affectionately ruffling his son's hair.

"Just wait until this one's born," Megan groaned. She shifted on the couch, a thin hand resting lightly over her swelling stomach.

"We've got at least three more months before that happens," Blair said.

"A toddler and a newborn," Jim mused. "I don't envy you, Chief."

Blair balled up a piece of red paper and chunked it at his friend.

"What about me?" Megan asked. "I'm the one carrying the baby, for goodness sake."

Jim grinned wickedly. "You've been married to Sandburg for three years, so you've had my pity."

The adults laughed, watching their children playing in their own little world. Daniel would tear pieces of paper and squash them together into little balls. Grace stacked each paper ball into a little pyramid shape. Together, they knocked it down and started over.

"Anyone want more coffee?" Margaret asked, standing up.

Jim and Megan shook their heads, but Blair nodded.

"Half a cup is fine," he said. "Thanks."

Margaret reached over the toddlers for Blair's mug. Her outstretched fingers just gripped the slippery porcelain when Blair let go. The mug slipped from their grasp and tumbled to the floor. It landed on an errant glass ornament and crushed the painted sphere with a resounding crunch that startled everyone.

Grace clamped chubby hands over her ears, her tiny mouth releasing a pained whimper. Before any of the adults could react, Daniel put down his paper ball and wrapped one arm around Grace's shoulders.

Jim watched in awe as his daughter slowly un-scrunched her face and resumed playing the game. Blair and Margaret set about cleaning up the broken ornament.

"That's amazing," Megan breathed.

Blair grinned. "He's a natural already."

"Looks like Gracie's senses are coming on line," Jim said, his voice filled with pride…and apprehension.

~*~*~*~

"Mommy! Daddy!" Grace yelled. The seven-year old bounced out of her bedroom under the stairs and bolted to the front door. "They're coming!"

Jim looked up from the pan of frying sausage. He extended his hearing from the hall to the stairwell, down to the parking lot. All he heard were an alley cat screeching and the couple down the hall fighting about the carats in her diamond tennis bracelet.

Curious as to what she'd heard, he asked, "Who's coming, Gracie?"

Grace gave her father a 'duh' look, eliciting an amused snort from her mother, who was setting the breakfast table.

"It's them, Daddy," Grace said. "Blair and Megan and Danny and Mal."

Jim blinked. "Gracie, where—?" He stopped when he finally heard the clunking engine of Blair's Volvo—on its last legs—as it pulled into the parking lot. The surprise on his face was unmistakable.

"What's wrong?" Margaret asked, placing a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls on the table.

"Gracie heard their car before I did," he replied.

Margaret's eyebrows shot up. "She did what?"

"She must have heard them at least a mile away."

"Wow," she murmured. Margaret glanced at her daughter, then walked over to Jim. In a low voice, she said, "Her senses are getting stronger."

Jim noted the worry in his wife's voice. "It's fine, Maggie. She won't go through what I did."

Margaret ran a hand through her thick, black hair. "I know. She's got you and Blair."

"And Daniel," Jim added.

"Do you think he'll be her guide?"

Jim grinned. "It would be fitting, don't you think? Besides, I think he already is."

Margaret's reply was cut short when Grace whipped open the front door and shouted, "Merry Christmas!"

Choruses of 'Merry Christmas' and other greetings echoed down the hall and into the loft, hailing the Sandburgs' arrival.

Five-year old Mallory bounded over to Margaret and announced, "I lothed a tooth." The curly-haired child pointed to a new gap in her front teeth. "And the tooth fairy gave me a whole dollar."

"Well, that's a lot of money," Margaret said, exchanging amused grins with Megan.

Mallory beamed. "I know."

"Lookit what Santa brought," Grace said. She grabbed Daniel's hand and dragged him over to the Christmas tree to show off her Deluxe Play-Dough set.

Jim took a bag of gifts from Blair and placed them next to the tree. Catching his friend's eye, he said, "Merry Christmas, Chief."

"Merry Christmas, Jim," Blair returned.

~*~*~*~

The doorbell managed to ring twice before Jim opened the door for his guests. Subdued greetings followed the initial welcome as the Sandburg's made their way into the loft. Presents were deposited under the tree and coffee offered all around. Grace offered her lop-sided cinnamon rolls that were perhaps too sweet and not quite done.

Margaret turned her head to smile at her old friends, smoothing the blanket wrapped loosely around her legs. She tried to sit higher on the couch, but couldn't find the strength. Jim was by her side immediately, tucking another pillow behind his wife's back.

"Thanks, hon," Margaret whispered.

Jim kissed the top of Margaret's head, a tight smile unable to hide the grief and worry that made him seem older than his forty-nine years.

Grace, at the age of ten and already bearing a striking resemblance to her mother, grabbed a pack of playing cards and coaxed Daniel and Mallory into her bedroom.

"Daddy taught me a neat old game from when he was a kid," Grace said as they walked. "It's called Go Fish."

Blair chuckled as the door closed behind their children. "Man, that makes me feel old."

"You feel old?" Jim asked. "I've got seven years on you, pal."

Megan shook her head, short curls flying around her face. "Oh, yes. You two are ancient. Aren't they, Maggie?"

"Just falling apart," Margaret said, attempting to keep her tone light. "Blair must have just fallen to pieces the first time he saw a gray hair."

"I did not," Blair protested. "I just yanked it out."

Megan snorted. "Then spent an hour staring into the bathroom mirror searching for more."

"Chief?" Jim asked. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure."

Blair stepped over a pile of wrapping paper scraps and joined Jim in the kitchen, leaving the women to themselves.

Megan settled onto the floor next to Margaret. "Gracie looks more like you every day."

"Yeah." Margaret cast a forlorn look under the stairs at her daughter's bedroom window. "At least Jim will still have that."

As hard as she fought it, Megan couldn't help but glance at the flat space next to Margaret's right breast. She looked away immediately.

"Meg?" Margaret said, clutching a small, pale hand around Megan's. "Do something for me?"

"Anything. You know that."

"Take care of them."

Sharp tears stung Megan's eyes, and she squeezed them shut. When she reopened them, Margaret was staring at her with an intensity Megan had never seen before. Her dark eyes fairly blazed. Megan drew in a shuddery breath.

"You know I will," Megan said, her voice quavering slightly.

Margaret nodded calmly, tired eyes roaming the loft. Shrieking laughter drifted out of Grace's room, mixing with the murmur of their husband's conversation. A fire was crackling in the stove and the aroma of fresh pine gave the room a woodsy scent that reminded her of her childhood.

"I wish this could last forever," Margaret said wistfully.

At that moment, Grace bounced out of her bedroom and sped to a stop in front of Megan. The girl tossed an excited smile to her mother and dangled a necklace in front of Megan. A gold star with a tiny emerald in the center hung on the end of a delicate gold chain.

"Megan, lookit what Mommy gave me," Grace squealed. "She said it belonged to her great-great-grandmother."

Megan held the star lightly in her right hand, watching the light twinkle off the gem. "It's beautiful, Gracie."

Flashing another wide grin, Grace ran back to her bedroom, mission accomplished.

"She's special, you know," Megan said. "She and Danny."

Margaret nodded. "I know. I just can't help but worry about them, now that Gracie's senses are so strong."

"They'll be fine," Megan soothed. "They have each other."

~*~*~*~

"When are they coming, Dad?" Grace asked. "What if something happened?"

Jim looked up from the coffeepot and over at his daughter. She was perched on the edge of the couch, listening intently. The emerald and gold star necklace she wore perfectly offset the green shimmer in her dress. Grace looked so grown up, almost too grown up for only fourteen years old. But then again, she'd had to grow up fast in the last few years.

They all had.

"They've still got a few minutes," Jim said, pouring a mug of coffee. "Sandburg said they wouldn't be here until after ten. It was the only compromise he could reach with Megan's doctor, you know that."

"I know," she said, heaving a dramatic sigh—it was a trait that reminded him a lot of Margaret. "I still think it sucks that Megan had to spend Christmas Eve in the hospital."

"Megan's stubborn as a mule," Jim said. He took his coffee and sat down on the couch near his daughter. "She said she'd be here come hell or high water."

"I hear a car," Grace announced.

Jim didn't even try to hear it. Grace's senses were much stronger than his, even now. Blair like to hypothesize that it was because she had been encouraged to use them her entire life, unlike Jim. It made perfect sense to him—he didn't want to imagine his little girl going through what he'd gone through with his own father.

"It's the SUV," Grace said thirty seconds later. "They're almost here."

He heard it this time. Blair had traded his Volvo in a few years ago, deciding it didn't comfortably fit four people. That and the expense to fix it every month far exceeded its usefulness. Blair probably had no idea how useful his Expedition would be in the months that would follow.

Almost ten minutes later, the loft door opened and allowed entrance to the Sandburg clan. Daniel and Mallory came in first, each holding a small bag of gifts. They moved over to the kitchen table and waited solemnly for their parents. Jim swallowed hard as Blair pushed Megan's wheelchair into the loft.

"Merry Christmas," Megan said cheerfully.

The fire had not touched her face, but little else had been spared. White bandages covered both arms and her neck, disappearing under her sweater. She sat straight in the chair, her nerveless legs covered by a colorful Christmas throw.

"Merry Christmas," Jim said as he closed the front door.

"I told you I'd get here," Megan said. "A couple of burns and overprotective doctors aren't going to cheat me out of my cinnamon rolls. Tradition is tradition."

"I think I overcooked the icing," Grace said. "I just can't make them as good as Mom could."

Megan flashed her a sunny smile. "Don't worry it, Gracie. Nobody can match your blueberry pie."

Grace giggled, prancing into the kitchen to retrieve the plate of cinnamon rolls.

"And what's this Danny tells me about a boy at school?" Megan asked.

"Danny!" Grace shrieked, whipping around. "That was a secret."

Daniel just grinned devilishly.

"Boy?" Jim repeated. He hadn't heard this story. "What boy?"

"Nobody," Grace said calmly.

"Gracie has a boyfriend!" Mallory piped up, snatching a cinnamon roll from the platter. "And he kissed her!"

"Maybe we should open presents," Grace said, blushing furiously.

Jim quirked a brow as he watched his daughter hustle everyone into the living room. She was growing up too fast. Too damned fast.

~*~*~*~

"Danny, you tell them."

"No way, Grace."

"Oh, come on."

"Forget it."

"I told them about us moving in together."

Daniel shook his head. "Us being platonic roommates is not quite on the same level as telling our parents that we're entering the Fire Academy after college."

"Yeah, but—"

"Merry Christmas!"

Their argument was cut off as Mallory—almost nineteen and the carbon copy of her father—swung open the loft door to let the pair in. Grace gave her a big hug, noting the male-sized class ring Mallory wore on a chain around her neck. Grace entered the loft first, not at all surprised to see Megan, Blair and her father already gathered in the living room. Daniel followed, carrying the gifts. The loft looked and smelled the same as it had for every Christmas of Grace's life: fresh pine mixed with sweet cinnamon. This was a tradition she treasured.

"Hey, Gracie," Jim said.

"Hi, Dad." Grace walked over and wrapped her dad in a bear hug. She sometimes worried about him living alone for the first time in almost twenty-five years, but moving out had been the right choice. Besides, twenty-one was a little old to still be living at home.

Grace pulled away and walked over to the shelf by the far wall. She kissed her fingertips and touched the silver-framed photograph of her mother.

"Merry Christmas, Mom," she whispered.

The morning progressed as coffee was drunk, rolls were eaten and gifts were opened. When it seemed no more boxes remained, Jim pulled a small one out from under the couch. He looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Grace.

She took it and slowly unwrapped what she knew to be the last piece of the set. Grace opened the box and slid out the pile of tissue paper. She unraveled the piece and stared at it. A smiling porcelain face held the joy of nations and above her head, porcelain arms held up a white banner than proclaimed "In Excelsius Deo." Grace traced the line of her wings, then stood up.

A small table had been erected under the stairs. On it stood a twenty-piece nativity set. Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the three kings, shepherds and animals were displayed lovingly on the wooden surface. A small, clear cube had been placed near the back of the display and on this raised surface, Grace placed the last of her set. The Christmas Angel.

"It's perfect," she whispered.

From behind, the young sentinel heard her father say, "Merry Christmas, Gracie."

She smiled. "Merry Christmas, Daddy."

~Finis

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