Title - An Aysa Christmas (13/22) Author - Lee Ann & Steven M. Wagner E-Mail address - lawagner@mindspring.com wagnersm@mindspring.com Date Finished 8 August 1999 Rating - PG13 Category - SCH Keywords - 'The Sentinel,' Skinner, Non-Canon Characters, Christmas, Crossover Spoiler - None Summary - Our intrepid heroes from 'Saving the Mouse' enjoy the Christmas season in Washington, DC. Disclaimer - Please see Part 1. Additional Credits - Please see Part 1. ---------------------------------------------------------------- An Asya Christmas (13/22) by Lee Ann & Steven Wagner Charles and Asya's Office Hoover Building 8:00AM Monday, 22 December 1997. ------ The first impression Blair got of the Cultural Anthroplogy Unit's offices was dichotomy. Half the room was barely organized chaos. Half a dozen bookcases filled with back issues of American Anthropoligist, Anthropology Today, Rolling Stone, and Billboard. Dozens of books by the greats in the field: Levi-Strauss, Margeret Mead, Radcliffe-Brown, Ruth Benedict, Max Gluckman, and Maria Vesperi. Interupting the ranks of book bindings and magizine spines was a lone shelf with a few tacky, tourist snowdomes and a couple of Peruvian artifacts. In front of the chaos was a new desk, with an even newer deskplate engraved 'Dr. Anna Rose, PhD'. The other half of the room was painfully neat. The same half dozen bookcases were there, mostly empty, one shelf half filled with standard office reference books, a couple of US Army survival guides, and the textbooks from the Cultural Anthroplogy 101 course that Blair taught 12 times a year. In front of this was a desk enjoying a deskplate engraved 'Charles Farragut'. There only a couple of personal effects here: a Parker pen set and a folding picture frame, one leaf a smiling couple in Navy blues, the other, two smiling teenagers. "Blair," Asya's voice intruded into his thoughts. "Yes?" "You can use my computer to type your statement," she suggested, sitting down at her desk and turning on the computer. Blair waited a minute for Asya to log in and bring up the word processor before sitting down and keying in the messy events of the prior night. He had just hit the print button when he heard the office door open. Looking up, he saw a tall man standing in the doorway. "Good morning," Charles's voice boomed in the confines of the office. "Good morning, Charles," Asya said, looking through a file folder in her lap, her feet up on a corner of his desk. "Good morning," Blair added. "Anna," Charles said, hanging up his trench coat, the sound of disapproval plain to hear in his voice. Blair watched Asya look up, a look of confusion soon replaced by one of understanding. "My feet, right?" she asked. "Your feet, yes," Charles replied, his arms folded, the faint smile on his face moderating the aggravation in his voice. "But I was wounded in the line of duty, remember? That should earn me some slack." Her voice was playful and her face was the epitome of the injured child. Charles just stared at her. "Okay. Gotcha, Boss." Her feet came off the desk top. She placed the file folder on the desk and continued to read it. "My desk," Charles added. He smiled, then shook his head as if disbelieving what was going on. "Oh, yeah, it is pretty nice," Asya said, still looking at the file folder. "And you have one too. Just as nice as mine." Asya looked up. "You're telling me that you want to sit down, right?" Not waiting for his reply, she started to get her papers together. "No need to be subtle, Charles. Just say what you want. I'll get up." Blair watched Asya and Charles at the desk. Charles stood there, shaking his head and smiling, watching his partner. Asya took her time getting her papers and files together. The two were playing, he could tell. She flashed Charles a smile as she walked around him, walking back to her desk. From the momentary shocked expression that flitted across Charles' face, Blair guessed Asya had goosed her partner. Blair stood up letting her sit down. Finally sitting down, Charles set the briefcase down beside the desk, unlocked the drawers, and pulled a leather cigar case out. Blair could see Charles's look of surprise as he pulled a peppermint stick out of the cigar case. "Anna," he said. "Hum," Asya looked up from her files. He waved the peppermint stick in the air, his eyes intent on her, his lips twiching as he controled the natural urge to smile at the joke, as he tried to be stern. "A peppermint stick. Very popular at this time of year. Do I get a prize for correctly identifying it?" Asya asked, an innocent look on her face. Blair knew better. "This was not what was in the cigar case Friday when I locked my desk." "Oh you mean those things you call cigars. Charles, you don't need the tobacco. It's only bad for you. Studies have shown that each minute smoking shortens your life a minute. It's very nasty stuff." "At my last checkup, the doctor told me that I'm in great shape and that the smoking is not significantly affecting my health. So smoking is not an issue here," he said before taking a breath. "I'm glad that you're in great shape, Charles. I really am. But it's such a smelly habit. Your clothes reek of stale smoke. Your teeth and finger tips turn yellow. Even your moustache will turn a dingy yellow instead of it's very distinguished white." "I want my coronas back," Charles said. "And I want them back now." "Oh, aw-right," Asya said, defeat in her voice. "Here they are." She opened a desk drawer, pulled out the two Havatampa's, and handed them to Charles. "Thank you," he said pulling out the remaining candy stick and putting two of Tampa, Florida's finest in their leather home. Asya held out her hand. Charles looked from Asya's face to her hand. His eyebrows went up questioning her act and stance. "The candy, please?" she asked. "Nope. I'm keeping them. Trophies of war," Charles said with a straight face. Asya looked at him for a moment before breaking into laughter. Laughter that Blair and Charles joined in on. "What are your plans for the day?" Charles asked. "I'm going to give Blair and Barb a tour of the Hoover building. The normal touristy stuff." "I hope you have a good time. Keep away from the mystery meat at the cafeteria. But you can't go looking like that," Charles said. Blair looked over at Asya's outfit. Clean, fairly new jeans, silk tank top, a new flannel shirt, and clean boots. He didn't know what the problem was. She's fit right in at Major Crimes. Asya replied, "What's wrong with my clothes?" "Nothing if you are wandering the Mall or a civilian visitor. But you are an FBI agent in the Hoover building. You need to dress like an agent." "I'm on vacation," she explained. "Doesn't count. You are here wearing your FBI name tag. If you are acting as an agent and are not undercover, you need to dress like an agent. Sorry, but you need to wear the proper suit." "This stucks. I'm on vacation and you're telling me I have to wear a stinking suit." "Anna," Charles said gently. "You know the regs as well as I do. And if you want people to think of you as a real agent, not some kid masquerading as one, you need to dress like one." "This still stucks. And I don't have any stockings to wear," she said opening a steel cabinet and pulling out a lady's suit. "Not necessary. You'll look fine without them." "I'll be right back. There's a janitor's room just down the hall we all use," Asya said, giving Blair a quick kiss before leaving the office. "Don't you think you were a little hard on her," Blair asked after watching Charles's eyes follow Asya out of the room. Simon, Jim's boss, wasn't this hard on Jim and him about minor stuff like this. Charles didn't seem angered or even aggravated by the question. "No. I wasn't. She needs to be respected by her peers. Which means she needs to dress and act to a major degree like her peers. I'm surprised that you haven't figured that out, Blair." "But she's on vacation," he argued. "But other agents who will see her walk around the Hoover building with her FBI name tag won't know that she's on vacation, will they?" Blair looked at the older man and nodded. "And it's the regs," Charles added, a smile on his face. Blair laughed at the almost joke. The basis for his ordering Asya was obvious, part making sure she was respected, part Bureau regulations. "Do you have your statement ready for A.D. Skinner?" Charles asked changing the subject. "Yes," Blair relied. "Mind if I take a look at it?" Blair got up and handed Charles a couple of printed pages. "There it is." "Thanks. After I take a quick look at it, I'll take it up to Skinner. We have our weekly meeting in a few minutes." He reached into his coat pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Here's a list of things Missy and I came up with that she'll need to take with her for the Christmas trip to New York City." "Cool. I'll make sure that there's a bag packed for her. And thanks for taking her with you," Blair said taking the list. "No problem, Blair. She's my friend as well as my partner. I don't want to see her alone for Christmas." "Have you told her that? That you consider her a friend as well as a partner?" Blair asked. Charles took a moment to think and frowned, "I'm sure she knows." But at Blair's look of disbelief, Charles considered what he said. "Thanks for reminding me." With a sigh, he took a small memo pad out of his coat pocket and made a notation. Picking it up, he gave Blair's statement a quick read and shook his head sadly. "Something wrong, man?" Blair asked. "No, this looks fine, Blair. Just can't believe that Agent Spender acted this foolishly before superior members of the Bureau last night." Charles looked up at Blair. "Ready to sign it?" After Blair scrawled his signature, Charles slipped it into a leather folio and got up. "Thanks for this. Now if you will excuse me, I'll run this up to Skinner. As long as you don't venture onto other floors, I doubt that Security will have a problem." "I'll run over to the X-Files office and pick up the shopping list from Dana," Blair said also getting up. "Fine. Until later," Charles said before leaving. Blair walked the twenty feet down the hallway until he got to a closed door marked 'X-Files Unit', one further adorned with the two nameplates, an older one engraved 'F Mulder, PhD' and a newer one gloriously engraved with 'Dana K Scully, MD'. Blair rapped on the door. "Welcome to the FBI's most Unwanted," Mulder's joke was followed by two-toned feminine laughter. "Come in." Blair twisted the knob and walked in, his eyes taking in the vast amount of clutter that was in the office. Posters, file cabinets, USGS maps, photos of cropcircles, alleged alien landing spots, and UFOs crowding each other. Then he noticed the three people seated in the office. Mulder, suit coat off, leaning back in his chair, throwing balled up paper at a trash can. Dana, sitting primly behind her desk paperclipping a few pages together. And finally, Jackie St George, leaning back, her feet up on Mulder's desk. They looked relaxed in each other's company. "Good Morning, Blair," Dana said folding the pages and slipping them into an envelope. "Here are the shopping lists for Anna's party." "Good Morning. Thank you," Blair replied, taking the envelope from the redhead. Blair tucked it into an inside pocket of his leather jacket. "What're your plans?" Jackie asked, reaching out and grabbing a couple of sunflower seeds from the pile on Mulder's desk. Blair started going over the plans for the day when he sensed something. It wasn't anything that the young man could recognize right away, the closest thing were the times he had could see people's auras. But it wasn't an aspect of the person like an aura. It was something with some innate intelligence of its own. It was something watchful, something aggressive, violent even. It felt reptilian, maybe. He kept talking, then he almost saw it. There was something curled up on top of a cabinet close by Jackie's head, and it was watching him. It was something on the edge of sight, something he almost saw when looking for something else. The best he could come up with was that it was a dragon of some sort, not the wise, benevolent ones of Chinese tradition, but rather the violent ones of European legend. Red leather-like skin, bat wings folded, a tail, the tip a triangular bit of horn tucked around it's body, a sulpherous odor sensed, rather than smelt. And it watched him, it's little fiery red eyes focused on his every move, watching him to ensure that he didn't do anything to hurt Jackie. His senses came back to this mortal realm, the sulpherous scent the only reminder of the dragon. He looked at Jackie, Dana, and Mulder, then thought about what their words and gestures told him. Jackie and Mulder were talking, laughing, teasing. It made him think of times when he and Jim Ellison, his partner, his Sentinel, would sit and talk after hours in the Bullpen, about tests and how Jim had used his extrordinary senses that day. And Dana, sitting there, keying something into her laptop, watching both of them, occasionally offering some succinct comment on the topic of their discussion. The same thing that Captain Simon Banks would do, throwing out little comments that would help them think things though. Then something just came together, clicked. Sentinel. Guide. Watcher. Oh shit. Blair looked at the three seated in the room. The dragon was Jackie's, that was for sure. And Asya had written him enough about how Mulder was helping Jackie through some troubles. And Dana, keeping an eye on the two. Jackie wasn't a Sentinel. Asya had written enough about times spent with Jackie that he was certain about that. But Sir Richard Burton had written about other extraordinary members of primitive tribes in his books. Sentinels were just one archetype, there were others, Beserkers, Sages, and Diviners. And he just ran into one of them. Not Sentinel, Beserker maybe. Something about her made him think of unrestrained violence. "Something wrong, Blair," Jackie asked, letting her chair settle back on the floor. Blair knew that he must have looked half-wild, eyes and mouth half open, but this was it. The confirmation that Burton knew about more archetypes than the one. This is great. No this is beyond great. "Earth-to-Sandburg," Mulder said, starting to get out of the chair. Dana looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Blair?" Asya said, wrapping an arm around his waist. Blair realized that he hadn't even heard his frined enter the offcie. "Asya. I've got something to tell you," he whispered under his breath, sentinel-soft. "Later," she whispered back. "Everything's ok," she said loud enough for everyone to hear. Jackie stared at each of the anthropologists for a moment before shrugging. "Good. We were worried for a moment." "Thanks," Blair said, thankful that he hadn't shouted out his discovery. "Nice suit," Mulder said changing the subject, his eyes looking up and down Asya. She had changed from her jeans and flannel to an closely tailored suit. Asya struck a pose straight off a Milan runway. "Hi," she said in an artificial, bubbly voice, a big smile pasted on her face. "I'm FBI Barbie. My partner, Ken, and I go out and capture criminals and bad people. Really, Ken does all the hard work, but I'm good at answering the phone and doing the paperwork. "After all, Ken doesn't want me out there messing with the bad guys because I might get hurt or break a nail. They are all so much bigger and stronger than I am. And we all know that women can't defend themselves." Asya batted her eyes and smiled. "Hey, I'll be the first one to admit that you can handle the bad guys," Mulder said looking at his partner. "Yeah, it's just you that we're not certain about," Jackie quipped, turning and looking at Mulder. Blair laughed and looked at everybody enjoying the joke. Jackie and Mulder laughing out loud, Dana suppressing the laughter, but was smiling and shaking her head. This was classic Asya. "Now that you've entertained the troops, perhaps it's time to hit the road?" Asya started to turn towards the door, but took the time for one last line. "Bye bye," she said in the artificial voice again, wiggling her fingers at them. Laughter followed Asya and Blair down the hall. Sidewalk Outside of Hoover Building 9:00AM Monday, 22 December 1997. ------ Blair looked up and down the busy sidewalk. Nobody was paying attention to the two of them. "Ok, Blair. Give," Asya said. "Remember me telling you that Sir Richard Burton mentioned archetypes of extraordinary members of primitive tribes in his writings? Archetypes in addition to Sentinels," Blair said quietly. Asya nodded. "Jackie is one of them. A Beserker, I theorize. I can't be certain without some tests." Asya followed Blair's agitated movements, the young man's enthusiasm infectious. She smiled, her eyes dancing with excitement over his ideas. "Mulder is her Control. Your comments about him helping her with her emotional troubles ties in nicely here. He gives her the guidance that she needs." "And Dana?" Asya asked a leading question. "Dana is the Watcher. Her stable personality helps keep both Guide and Sentinel straight. Or in this case, Control and Beserker." Blair's mind went off thinking of tests to run on Jackie. "Don't think about it," Asya warned. At Blair's raised eyebrows, she continued, "Jackie is a very private person. And really wouldn't want her abilities widely known. So . . ." "No tests. Rats." Blair's disappointment at the loss of a test victim was plain to see. "Sorry, Blair," she said. She had to smile at his displeasure. He shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. "Now where Asya?" he asked taking her hand in his. "The Eastern Market for some shopping. Let's go," She started to walk down the sidewalk. *-*-* Charles and Asya's Office Hoover Building 1:00PM Monday, 22 December 1997. ------ Blair followed Asya and Barb into the CSU office in the dim basement of the Hoover Building. Charles was back from lunch already, sitting at his desk munching on an apple, a file open on his desk. "Hello, Charles," Barb Nice-Miller said, her hazel eyes twinkling behind her eyeglasses. "Hello," Charles said, blotting his lips with a napkin, looking up from a open file on his desk. "Here for the guided tour?" Barb chuckled. "Yes. It sounds like it should be fun." "I've been looking forward to it," Blair said. "I figured that I'd take Barb and Blair together," Asya added. "Well, have fun," Charles said, his eyes turning back to the file in dismissal. "Oh, by the way, Anna. Don't forget you need to qualify this month. And a stop by the firing range would be just the place to take care of it. True?" He looked up at his partner, his blue eyes sparkling, a smile on his lips. Blair looked from Asya to Charles. Aysa looked real unhappy about this turn of events. And Charles looked like he could teach a cucumber something about cool. "Boss! Like right now?" she complained, her eyebrows shooting skyward. "Yes, 'like right now.' There's notime like the present to get things done," Charles said, leaning back in his desk chair. "When did you last qualify, Charles?" Barb asked, her voice pleasant, a smile on her face. Blair glanced from Barb to Charles. This was way uncool. The tension was thick in the small room. He could tell by Barb's body language, the way she stared at the man, she was calling his bluff, seeing if he was a stuffed shirt or a cop himself. "Last Wednesday," he said, his eyes locked onto the blonde's, his voice low and pleasant. "I make use of the range a couple of times a month." "Good, I try to go as often. Now, Charles, if you will excuse us," Barb asked politely. Blair breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The crisis was over. "Of course," Charles replied. He looked at the tall blonde for a moment before standing and taking two steps to stand in front of her. He extended his hand. "I hope you enjoy your visit to the Hoover Building and Washington. If there is anything I can do for you, please feel free to ask." "Thank you and I will," Barb replied, shaking the offered hand. Letting go, she turned to Asya and Blair. "Shall we go?" As they left the office, Blair could feel Charles's eyes on them until they were out of sight. *-*-* "That was interesting," Asya said, looking up at Barb. "I just don't like brass that come up with grandiose orders that they don't think apply to themselves," Barb replied, walking down the hall. "He's not like that," Asya looked smiling. "While at the Academy, he was there for running and any other physical activity. I had problems keeping up with him." "Sounds like a pretty up front guy," Barb said thoughtfully. "Yes, he is," Asya said. *-*-* It was a short walk to the firing range. The room was quiet, the sounds of the Washington traffic muted by thick concrete walls. And dim, at least dim where they were standing, close to the shooting area. The other end of the room was brightly lit, painfully lit as bright as a desert day. Blair could see the pockmarks on the far wall where errent bullets had hit. After signing in and picking up hearing protectors, they walked up a short flight of steps to the observation booth. Blair could see everybody's eyes widen in surprise seeing Agent Jeffrey Spender sitting there. "Good afternoon," Barb said, opening the door to the soundproofed booth. "Good afternoon," Spender replied, the disdain in his voice and his body language told Blair that the FBI agent felt that he was suited for better things than babysitting people shooting at the range. "What brings you down to the range?" "Qualification," Asya said simply before making the introductions, forgetting to include Barb's position with the Florida Highway Patrol. Spender nodded and scribbled Asya's name on a target. Getting up and picking up his hearing protectors, he led them to a spot along the shooting bench. Putting the paper target in a pair of clips, he pressed a button and sent the target back to the far side of the range. After a quick check to make sure that everybody had their hearing protectors on, Asya pulled out her Glock, aimed, and started shooting. Ten shots later, Spender pushed a button. The soft purr of an electric motor heralded the target's return. "Nine shots through the center ring, one on the edge at 11 o'clock. That's great shooting, Anna," Barb said looking at the paper target still hanging in front of them. Asya nodded, then looked over at a scowling Spender. His displeasure at her good shooting plain to see on his face. "Agent Spender?" she asked. He didn't say much as he ripped the target down and entered her score in the blank before scrawling his name on the paper form. "Hey, Sandburg. You work for the Cascade Police Department. Why don't you try to see how well you do with a Glock?" Spender asked, a feral smile on the agent's face. Blair didn't like guns. His partner, Jim Ellison carried both an issue sidearm and a back-up gun. Jim had taken Blair to the Cascade firing range to make sure that the younger man knew how to handle the wicked things. But he didn't like it. "No thank you, Agent Spender." The disappointment was plain on Spender's face. Then he turned to Barb. "Wouldn't you like to try your hand, little lady?" Blair saw Barb's eyebrows go up before she answered. "That would be so much fun," she replied, pleasure in her voice. "You can use mine," Asya said, changing the clip in the weapon before handing it to Barb. "No need to dirty a second gun." "That's great," Spender said, sending a fresh target to it's appointed place. "And let me show you how to shoot," he offered, putting his hands on Barb's waist and turning her towards the target. Blair could see Barb stiffen as Spender touched her. And stiffen further as the agent leaned in close, his arms around her, as he guided her in how to hold and aim the weapon. "Now squeeze the trigger," Spender said, and the Glock fired. A bullet hole, low and to the left, appeared in the target. "I'm sorry that you didn't make the bull's eye," he said, oily. "But I'm sure you'll do better on your next shot." "It's too bad I missed," Barb said. "Why don't you let me aim it," she added, a bit of steel in her voice. "Sure, sure, little lady," Spender said, backing away. "Good luck." Spender was standing there, watching Barb shoot. It would have been more fun watching Blair fail, but Barb would do almost as well. Barb's position changed subtly, now she was in control. Feet apart, eyes intent on the target, arms straight out, hands wrapped around the grip of the weapon, she assumed the same combat shooting position he had seen Jim and the other detectives in Major Crimes take as they shot. A flat crack, and the Glock barely moved in Barb's hands. A hole was in the center ring, right over the heart. Then in rapid succession, nine more shots thundered, nine more holes in the paper target, seven in the center ring, one in the middle of the forehead of the manshape printed on the target, and one at the shape's groin. All eyes turned to Spender as a groan was released from his throat, his eyes wide in bewilderment. Everybody knew that this wasn't what Spender wanted, she was supposed to only hit the target a couple of times and look like a fool civilian. His eyes went to Barb's. "I probably should have introduced myself better. I'm Sergeant Barbara Nice-Miller, of the Florida Highway Patrol. I'm also on their SWAT team." She stopped for a moment to retrieve the target. "Will you please enter the score and sign the target? It will make such a nice souvenir of my tour of the Hoover Building." Spender mumbled something unintelligible as he signed the form. And glared at Asya's snickering, handing it back to Barb. "Thank you, oh so much," Barb murmured as she rolled up the target and the three left the range, giggling like teenagers. *-*-* Sidewalk Outside of Hoover Building 3:00PM Monday, 22 December 1997. ------ "There it is," Barb called out, seeing a classic Trans Am pulling up to the curb. "Oh, Wow man," Blair said, his eyes wide looking at the black car. The car looked great, shiny paint, glossy black tires, it's exhaust gently rumbling. "Where did you find this," he asked as Jason emerged. Jason laughed, "A friend of a friend. Like it?" Blair laughed. "It's great. Just like . . . " "Yeah. Just like KITT from Knightrider," Barb said, stretching up to give Jason a kiss, before letting him open the door for her. "KITT? Knightrider? What's that?" Asya asked, her brow furrowed in thought. "An 1980's show with David Hasselhoff and a back Trans Am as the stars," Blair said. "Dave Hasselhoff! Why didn't you say so? I remember hearing his promo cassette back in '88. Wasn't bad as I remember," Asya said, her brow slightly furred thinking. "His first album went triple platinum in '89," Jason commented "That's pretty good," Asya said, nodding. "But it was kind of light for my taste." "Say Good Bye, Asya," Blair said to her. "Good Bye," Asya dutifully said, smiling. "Have a nice time Barb, Jason," he called out waving as Barb and Jason pulled away. "Have fun," Asya added. She looked up at Blair, a question on her lips. "What were you talking about?" "I'll explain them to you," he said, smiling at her. "Okay." The Trans Am turned the corner and disappeared. Continued in Part 14.