Russian Christmas Music

A/N: How longer will it be? This is going to be the last, climatic chapter of Russian Christmas Music. Not like it will take much to be climatic after what has been going on (aka NOTHING!) but I will try to set things up for the sequel. Will Rebecca ever find Brad?

The door opened and Chris and Claire walked into Kaitlyn's room. She was lying on her bed, facing the window, motionless. They quietly moved in and sat next to each other on the side of the bed. Claire put one hand reassuringly on Kaitlyn's shoulder.

"What do you want?" she asked slowly, her voice thick.

"We just want to understand..." Chris said.

She rolled over and stared at him. "You couldn't understand me."

"Please, tell us why you are hurting. Rebecca said that you would be okay and recover from the cold, but... we know that something more than that is bothering you. Is it about Boston?"

"It's that bitch..." she mumbled under her breath.

"Bitch?" Chris said, glancing over to Claire. Who was she talking about?

Kaitlyn's forehead was drenched in sweat. Was she getting worse again? She rolled back away from them but Chris moved to sit in between her and the window. They needed answers or else they would never be able to work the same missions again. She would socially outcast herself from the group, therefore cutting their forces down. The last thing they needed was to lose another friend right now...

"Tell us." He demanded.

She responded by laughing, and looked up into his face. There was giddy humor in her eyes, and it scared him. "You want to know my secrets, but you can't. They are mine to have."

Chris and Claire rose, not knowing what else to do. Maybe if they let her sleep it off overnight then she'll be able to talk rationally again in the morning.


The others arrived, and after Christmas dinner they settled on the living and dining room floors to sleep. Chris was alone in his room. He started to take off his clothes, letting them slide naturally off his skin and landing in small piles on the floor. When the closet door creaked open a smile played across his face, and he kept his back turned.

"Wondered when you were gonna wanna play..." he said slowly, and pulled down his boxers as he moved towards the bed, blowing out the few candles that had illuminated the room on his way.

The room now in darkness, the figure that had come from his closet moved to follow him to the bed. Chris heard the quiet clinking of the chains of handcuffs. Tonight was going to be a fun night.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly..." the voice said slowly, sadly, as it straddled Chris' body and flung his arms up to the bedposts.


Chris smiled wider and waited until the cold hands touch his stomach, where a volcanoe of warmth erupted. The hands slided up over his chisseled chest and up to his neck, playing along the surface of the skin. It leand down, lips meeting the flesh of the neck and kissing it tenderly.

"Don't play games with me now, take them off," Chris said, making his body go stiff for a moment as a threat.

"Tis the season to be golly..." the figure said as it removed the glasses from his head, revealing glowing red eyes...