The wind pulled at her hair, blinding her as she stumbled down the familiar path. Halfway to the farmhouse, Trixie stopped and leaned against a tree, hoping that the searing pain in her temples would recede. With her eyes closed, she didn't notice the person approaching until he laid a hand on her shoulder. In an instant she had a firm hold on the arm and flipped her assailant to the snowy ground with ease.

“Geez, Trix, what was that for?” Bobby stared up at his sister in forlorn amazement.

“Oh, Bobby, I'm sorry.” She reached to pull him up to his feet, but he just grinned and scrambled up on his own.

“That's okay.” Bobby was still smiling as he threw an arm around her shoulder. “I promise not to press charges, if you'll teach me how to do that.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes, then gave a small smile. “It's a deal. As long as you promise not to send anyone to the hospital.”

“I can live with that.”

They started down the path slowly, Bobby's arm still protectively around his sister's shoulder.

“You know Jim was acting like a complete ass.”

Trixie sighed heavily and chose to ignore Bobby's language. “Today was hard for him. He had his trust betrayed a lot when he was young. Now he thinks I'm doing the same thing,” she explained. “And you know his temper. Hopefully he'll calm down, and we'll be able to work this out. Now, Bobby,” she stopped and forced him to look at her. “I don't want this to come between you and Jim. He's done a lot for you, and I don't want you to do anything foolish.”

“Like explain to him that nobody talks to my sister that way?”

Trixie's smile brightened at the show of bravado. “Exactly. Jim's been very good to you. I don't want this to change anything.”

Bobby studied his sister for a long moment, and she was surprised by the intensity of emotion she saw. Her little brother wasn't just a tag-along nuisance anymore, or a well-meaning but self-centered adolescent. He was a grown man, willing to defend the people he cared about. With tears pricking at her eyes, Trixie squeezed them shut and hugged her little brother with all her strength. “Thank you, Bobby.”

Bobby looked down at her in surprise. “For what? You won't let me do anything!”

Trixie smiled and blinked the tears back. “Just thank you. Now, let's get going! I could really do with some sleep.”

Bobby nodded and together they returned to the farmhouse.

Dan watched the wind catch the clubhouse door and slam it shut as Bobby rushed after his sister. Though five Bob Whites remained, the room was eerily silent. Honey and Diana soon finished clearing the food and garbage, while Mart and Brian conducted a silent conversation.

“Okay.” Dan's voice, though quiet, filled the space. “I think we're done here. I don't want anyone to worry, but I think it would be best if the girls didn't walk home alone.” He looked pointedly at Brian and Mart, who nodded. “I'll see you back at the farmhouse,” Dan informed the Beldens. Mart didn't appear to notice, as he was busy trying to carry as much food as possible, but Brian returned Dan's scrutiny, his dark eyes alert and penetrating. Looking away, Dan found his leather jacket and left the others to lock up.

Outside, Dan quickly followed the path leading to the Manor House. He wasn't surprised when he noticed fresh footprints leading to the stable. Standing in the open doorway, he saw Jim standing beside Jupiter, his head low.

“Going for a midnight ride?” Dan asked casually, leaning against the door frame.

Jim's face was red with poorly concealed anger. “None of your business,” he retorted, turning back to Jupiter.

“No, it isn't,” Dan agreed with a smile, still lounging in a manner that he knew would irritate Jim. He took a step forward and crossed his arms. “But Trixie is.”

The anger became significantly less concealed. Jim strode purposefully towards Dan, his hands clenched into fists. “What exactly are you saying, Mangan?”

Dan held his ground. “It would be in everybody's best interests if you kept your witty remarks to yourself in the future.”

A small vein in Jim's forehead began throbbing in time to the hot blood that coursed through him. “And if I don't?”

Dan lifted his head to look the slightly taller man in the eye. His own black eyes were narrowed, and very, very hard. “You'll regret it.”

Though there was no physical contact, Jim suddenly caught a glimpse of the Dan who had been a gang member, and who had become a very dangerous covert operative. Not someone to have for an enemy. He involuntarily took a step backwards before reminding himself that this was only Dan Mangan, and that he was perfectly capable of holding his own against him. Before he could issue a challenge, however, Dan turned abruptly and left the stable. Instead of following, Jim turned back to Jupiter and tried to calm the adrenaline that still surged, before it affected the high-strung horse.

Dan hadn't gone more than a few feet when he heard footsteps behind him. Expecting Jim, he was only slightly relieved to see Brian instead. They stared at each other awkwardly, unable to bridge the gap between them.

At last, Brian spoke. “Thanks. You saved me the trouble of giving Jim a piece of my mind.”

Dan processed the information. “No problem,” he finally managed to reply.

Brian sighed and started down the path. “This is some mess, isn't it?”

Dan's nod was grim. Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, the events of the evening, compounded by the fact that Grayson had called them, told him that something was very wrong.

With obvious reluctance, Brian continued. “I know Jim was out of line, but...” he paused and swallowed. Dan raised his eyebrows, forcing Brian to ask the question instead of making it easier on him.

“Oh, crap. I guess it's just hard to think of my little sister as James Bond.”

Dan couldn't stop a small smile. “Well, if you're picturing her as Bond, I think you're having an easier time of it than Jim. I have a feeling he's imagining her as a Bond girl.”

Instead of laughing, Brian paled.

“She's still the same Trixie, Brian.”

Brian grimaced, recognizing his own bed-side manner. As he thought back to the conversation he had overhead in the stable, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “You have Trixie completely snowed, don't you?”

“What?”

Brian smiled at Dan's discomfort. “I'm guessing that if it's up to you, Trixie will never know about that little conversation with Jim. In fact,” he added, “I'm willing to bet this isn't the first time you've used a little intimidation on her behalf.”

Dan fastidiously studied the path in front of him.

“She has no idea, does she?” Brian's amusement was evident.

“And I'd like to keep it that way, if possible.”

“I'm sure you would,” Brian chuckled. “Oh, don't worry. That's one conversation I don't want to have any part of.”

Dan shuddered. “Neither do I.” They both enjoyed a good laugh.

“Thanks, Dan, for standing up for her.”

“It's not as if it's necessary. You realize that she could knock Jim out cold without batting an eye.”

Covering his surprise at Trixie's physical prowess, Brian merely commented, “Trixie laying Jim out isn't going to make her hurt feelings disappear. That's what you're trying to help with.”

Crabapple Farm with its low lights appeared in front of them. Brian frowned. “I hope Trixie and Bobby made it home all right.”

“I'm sure they did,” Dan assured him, smirking just a little.

“How do you know?” Brian asked curiously.

Dan's eyes glinted with mischief. “Did you see the collection of footprints and scuff marks about halfway back down the path?”

Brian's eyes widened. “Why didn't you say something? Trixie could be in trouble!”

“Only if her assailant stole Bobby's shoes. Not many kidnappers wear goofy-looking spiked boots like our buddy Rob. Honey would be able to tell us more, but from what I can determine, Trixie stopped beside a tree, Bobby surprised her, and she flipped him. Then they walked home.” He pointed to two sets of footprints leading to the farmhouse. “Unless the assailant came back here, Trixie and Bobby made it home just fine.”

Brian looked down at the footprints, which he hadn't even noticed before Dan pointed them out, and laughed in sheepish relief. As they emerged from the wooded area into the yard, both men lengthened their strides. They exchanged amused glances at the homey sight of Trixie and Bobby sitting on the antique oak deacon's bench removing their boots. Dan and Brian both noticed Bobby's wet clothing, but tactfully refrained from drawing attention to it.

Trixie looked up with a wan smile as Dan and Brian entered the entranceway. “I sure know how to kill a party, don't I?” she observed.

Brian glanced at Dan before replying, “I don't think you can take all the credit, Trixie.” Before she could question him, he fixed a pointed stare at his younger brother. “Why don't you head upstairs and get changed, Bobby? You don't want to catch a cold for Christmas.”

Bobby looked down at his wet clothing and blushed. “That's a good idea. I'll see you in the morning.” He escaped up the stairs, Brian following at a slower pace.

“Well, Friday,” Dan teased as he pulled Trixie off the bench, “the worst is over. The Bob-Whites are in on our little secret.”

Trixie fingered the chain around her neck and saw Jim's face, stamped with hurt and anger. “Somehow, I don't think the worst is over at all, Dan.”

He nodded slowly, but refused to dwell on the negative. “Get some sleep, Friday. We'll figure it out.”

She started up the stairs, but stopped to ask, “Where's Mart? I thought he'd come home with you.”

“I asked if he would walk Di home.”

Trixie and Dan looked at each other, struggling not to laugh. “I bet he didn't take much convincing,” Trixie said with a snicker.

“Surprisingly little,” Dan agreed, thankful that Trixie was recovering her sense of humour.

They both turned as the back door opened and Mart entered the house. Suppressing a giggle at the dreamy expression on his face, Trixie commented, “Well, I think everyone is accounted for.” She tidied the boots that cluttered the entranceway before ascended the stairs. “See you in the morning!”

Close behind, Mart stopped his sister at her bedroom door. “Are you up for a little Christmas Eve tradition?” He licked his lips. “I managed to procure the left-over fudge. Care to join me under the tree in about ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes? Will there be any fudge left if I wait that long?”

Mart rolled his eyes. “Just get changed. It doesn't count unless we're in pyjamas.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious? I have a pretty good idea of what you think passes as pyjamas, and I have no desire to witness it.”

Mart glared at her before explaining, “Don't be ridiculous. Ever since that unfortunate incident, I keep perfectly respectable night apparel in my suitcase at all times.

Trixie eyed him dubiously. “Well, okay. Just don't give my imagination fuel for nightmares.” She bit her lip on the last word and looked away.

Her brother's perceptive blue eyes narrowed in concern, but he chose not to comment. “Get to it, missy. Brian and I will meet you down there.”

Trixie nodded and smiled to herself as she dug out her special Christmas pyjamas. Pulling on the red and navy plaid flannel pants, she smiled again at the picture of a Christmas tree on the navy long sleeved cotton shirt. No matter where she had been for Christmas over the years, she had made a point of dressing festively, even if no one else witnessed it. The pyjamas were one of her personal favourite holiday-themed items of clothing.

She quietly closed the bedroom door behind her and peered down the dark hallway, then laughed at herself. Who, exactly, am I hiding from? As long we don't keep them awake, Moms and Daddy couldn't care less if we want to sneak downstairs. And Bobby... She paused in front of her brother's door. The light was already extinguished, but she couldn't hear snoring.

“Bobby?” she whispered, knocking on the door.

Almost immediately, Bobby opened the door. “What?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. “Are you about to go on a secret mission? Do you need me to help? I could create a diversion!”

Trixie rolled her eyes at his antics and pushed far enough into the room to hit his arm. “Are you decent?” she asked, unwilling to check for herself.

He grinned mischievously. “Never. But there's nothing showing that shouldn't, if that's what you're asking.”

“Then come on. I have a surprise for you.”

Eyes alight with anticipation, Bobby followed his sister down the stairs, creating an astonishing amount of noise.

“You know that game you and the Lynch twins play where you sneak out of the house?” Trixie whispered. Bobby stopped and looked at her expectantly. “I'm guessing that you're not actually sneaking out of the house. If this is the amount of noise you make, Moms and Daddy are just letting you go. You know that, right?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Bobby rolled his eyes and moved to continue down the stairs. Trixie, however, stood her ground.

“Seriously. If you would just cushion your weight--”

“Trixie! At the minimum, I'm at least forty pounds heavier than you! I don't think--”

“And Brian weighs more than you,” Trixie pointed out, leaning on the railing. “Have you ever heard him sneaking downstairs?”

Bobby frowned. “No.”

“I rest my case.”

The ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound as Bobby pondered this information.

“You mean--”

“I'm not saying he made a habit of it, but yes, Brian did sneak out a time or two. And if Moms or Daddy knew, it wasn't because they heard him.”

“Wow! Brian Belden, the responsible one! I never—Wait. Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to trick me into something?” Bobby leaned forward, searching his sister's face.

Trixie rolled her eyes. “I just think everybody should learn the skill of moving quietly. You never know when it could come in handy.”

“So, how do you do it?”

In a matter of moments, Trixie coached Bobby in how to absorb his weight, and then watched with pride as he finished the descent without making a sound. Brian and Mart stood in the doorway of the living room, watching with amusement.

“Training a new operative?” Mart teased.

“Only so that he can be a part of our Christmas Eve tradition. Part of the charm is sneaking downstairs, right?”

Brian coughed. “Maybe you could give Mart some lessons. I swear Moms and Dad hear him every year.”

“Very funny,” Mart retorted. “And are you sure Bobby's ready to join us? Shouldn't this be a group decision?

“Mart! He's nineteen. I was, what, seven?”

It was Bobby's turn to be amused. “Would you like me to wait in the kitchen while you decide? I could get the gingerbread cookies ready.”

A slow smile of delight spread across Trixie's face. “And how exactly do you know what we eat every Christmas Eve?”

Bobby took a step backwards. “Did I say gingerbread cookies? I meant snack. Anyone can tell that any tradition involving Beldens is going to involve food. Am I right?”

“He's got us there,” Mart admitted.

Bobby looked away with a faintly guilty expression. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I may have spied on you from the top of the stairs a time or two.”

Trixie shook her head. “Surveillance, Bobby. You weren't spying, you were practicing the art of surveillance.”

“Whatever,” Mart rolled his eyes. “And just so you know, it's going to be fudge this year. Di sent the leftovers with me.”

“Di sent them, or you snuck them away from her?” Trixie wanted to know.

“Hey, if you don't want any, that's fine with me,” Mart teased.

Brian broke in hastily. “Are we going to stand around all night, or are we going in?”

“So what exactly do you guys do?” Bobby asked as they entered the living room.

Brian, Mart, and Trixie exchanged glances. “Well, we don't really do much of anything. We just lie under the tree and wait for Santa,” Brian explained.

“And eat,” Mart was quick to add.

“And figure out what our Christmas presents are,” Trixie continued.

“You open your presents?” Bobby asked, astonished.

Trixie frowned. “Where would the fun be in that? I said that we figure out what they are. Opening them would take all the fun out it,” she explained.

Mart shrugged and took his place under the tree. “We usually leave that part to Trixie. She's been...” he paused, “...uncannily correct in the past.” Frowning, he moved aside a branch to peer at his sister. “How do you do it, anyway?”

Trixie smiled and squeezed herself between Mart and Bobby. “Wouldn't you like to know?” she teased.

“Seriously, Trix, my sweater is yellow?” Brian sighed.

Catching on immediately, Bobby snickered. “Yellow? Your sweater from Aunt Alicia is yellow? Oh, man! I can't wait! It's a good thing I got that digital camera for my birthday. Plenty of memory, all ready for tomorrow morning.” Bobby rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation.

Mart chuckled. “Persons who reside in domiciles constructed of highly temporal materials, would be wise to refrain from the lobbing of dense objects.”

Bobby continued to chortle for several seconds before pausing. “Wait a minute. What did you say?”

Trixie smacked Mart's leg, admonishing him to remain silent. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” A twinkle in Trixie's eye assured her older brothers that Christmas morning gift-opening would prove entertaining, if nothing else.

They lay under the tree, enjoying the sweet fudge and companionship. Too tired to bother speculating on the contents of their gifts, the siblings soon found themselves yawning and thinking of their comfortable beds.

Brian rose reluctantly. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm calling it a night.”

Bobby nodded and stood, knocking several branches. “This was fun, but I really should go set my alarm. Gotta open those presents at the crack of dawn!”

Mart groaned. “Is that how you do it?” He stood and picked up the empty container that had held the fudge. Trixie took it from him, rolling her eyes.

“You get to bed. I'll take care of this.”

Too tired to argue, Mart shrugged and headed for the stairs behind his brothers. “See you in the morning,” he stage-whispered.

Trixie rinsed the container in the kitchen sink, then set it to dry in the rack. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she looked down the hall to the door of the guest room. She frowned, noticing a faint line of light under the door. Pursing her lips, she glanced back up the stairs. All three of her brothers were in their rooms for the night. She turned back to the faint glow. Ignoring her fatigue, she sighed and crept down the hallway.

She knocked softly. “Dan?”

The door opened a crack. “Trixie?” Dan whispered. “What are you doing up?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pot. Kettle. Black.”

He rolled his eyes as he opened the door and walked back to the desk and laptop. Trixie glanced around the room, taking in the sight of the neatly made bed with a sweatshirt casually thrown across it. “Take a look at this,” Dan invited, motioning to the screen. She sat in the only chair when Dan pulled it out for her, but moved to the side so that he had access to the keyboard as he crouched beside her.

“Read the list of personal effects found on each subject.” He called up file after file, pointing out the one item they each had in common.

“Who are these people?” Trixie frowned.

Dan fumbled through his bag for a note pad. “Do you want to type or take notes?”

She groaned and took the note pad. “We both know you're faster on the computer than I am.” Leaving the chair for Dan, she plopped down on the bed. Waving her hand, she commanded, “Get cracking!”

Dan took a deep breath and stretched, popping each of the knuckles on his hands. Trixie shuddered elaborately and whacked him with the notebook.

“That's not what I mean, and you know it!” She straightened the pages of the book while Dan smiled. Languorously raising his arms above his head, he stretched, cracking each knuckle a second time.

Enjoying their long-standing argument, Dan grinned when Trixie threw the notebook down to deliver a harder blow to his side. “Not bad, Friday. Your delivery more than makes up for your lack of creativity.”

Trixie smiled and patted his side. “Whatever gets the job done.” Her smile disappeared as she glanced at the screen.

Dan followed her gaze and hesitated before logging out of the CIA's database.

“What are you doing?”

“I've been saving this for a rainy day,” Dan replied, logging in again.

Trixie frowned. “That's not your user name. What are you doing?”

“Mark hooked me up with a spare ID, in case of emergency.”

Brow furrowed, Trixie quizzed him. “Why would you use it now? And why would techno wizard Mark just give that to you? Wait a minute. Why would he have a spare ID in the first place?”

Avoiding the first and last questions, Dan replied, “Let's just say he owed me one.”

“Really? What did you do for him?” Trixie probed.

Dan merely turned back to the computer. “Are we going to do some searching or not?”

“You know I'll find out, don't you?”

He nodded, eyes on the screen. “Yup. But let's work on this first, okay?”

For the next hour, Dan scoured file after file, struggling to find a link between seemingly unconnected cases. Though many of the files mentioned a specific organization known to the CIA as Mordem, the cases were relatively straight-forward. Trixie made brief notes, trying to find a connection to link them together. Their comments were few and far between as they sifted through the information.

When Dan realized he'd been reading the same file for five minutes without retaining any information, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs and shut down the computer.

“I'm done,” he commented, turning to Trixie. But Trixie was fast asleep with her head on top of the notebook at the foot of his bed.

Dan smiled, relieved to see that the tight lines of tension on her face had disappeared. And because he was so very tired, instead of waking Trixie immediately, he stood at the foot of the bed and watched her as she slept. Lying on her stomach, Trixie had fallen face-first onto the notebook, awkwardly scrunching her pert nose. Blonde curls fell away from her face and cascaded over the notebook. He shook his head and gently smoothed the hair off the paper, trying to read her notes.

Instead of concentrating on the writing, however, his sleep-deprived eyes traced the path of her curls back to her face. He knew that he shouldn't be watching her as she slept; knew that he should wake her so they could both go to bed. Instead, his eyes drifted lower and fixed on the heavy weight of gold she wore around her neck. Dan studied the cross, watched as it seemed to grow larger, heavier, and more beautiful. He blinked rapidly several times and told himself he must be more tired than he had realized. Dragging his eyes away from the cross, Dan placed a hand on Trixie's shoulder. She woke immediately, and looked around the room in confusion. Seeing him, she relaxed and yawned.

“I guess I fell asleep,” she admitted, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Looks like it,” Dan agreed.

“Why did you wake me?” Trixie groaned. “I just fell asleep!”

Dan shrugged and picked up the notebook. “Someone had to save this little book from the drool monster.”

Trixie blushed and raised a hand to her mouth. She winced as she discovered the tell-tale wetness. “Oh, great,” she complained. “I took all those notes for nothing. Are they ruined?”

She reached for the notepad, but Dan moved out of her range. Too lazy to get off the bed, Trixie swatted the air ineffectually in an attempt to reclaim it.

Dan studied the pages carefully. “It's not too bad this time. Only a few spots of saliva, and none on the words. You were lucky this time, Friday. Honestly, if you would just drink coffee...”

Trixie shrugged. “Maybe if it didn't taste like burnt tar...”

Dan merely shook his head and chose not to pursue that on-going argument.

Stretching again, Trixie reluctantly stood. “I suppose I should go to bed.”

Dan's grin was mischievous. “You can always stay here,” he offered with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, knowing that Trixie would never take him seriously.

She giggled, and then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Stop it!” she admonished. “You're going to wake everyone!”

“I'm not the one with the giggles,” Dan protested.

Trixie sighed. “You know, it's a real pain that you aren't ticklish. It would be very satisfying to reduce you to a quivering pile on the floor.”

“If you're trying to seduce me, it's working,” Dan winked.

Rolling her eyes, Trixie cautiously opened the door. “See you in the morning,” she whispered.

“Hey, Trix,”

She turned back.

“Merry Christmas.”

“You too, Dan.” She smiled, and closed the door behind her.