Chapter Text
Blanc hung his coat on the hook inside the door and glanced around their apartment. Things were almost, but not quite, where they belonged. There were traces of flour along the cracks of the countertop.
“I do believe someone broke back in to clean our apartment,” he said with a sigh.
Marta, slipping her shoes off at the doorway, hummed consideringly.
“Is that thoughtful? Or just scarier?” she asked, passing him an armful of wrapped presents. Blanc shrugged, the presents jingling festively at the motion. He stared at them with mild consternation.
“We need to upgrade the security system,” Phillip said with a yawn. He dropped his suitcase and Blanc’s bag on the office floor. Blanc resolved to deal with them later. “You should ask Norris. They passed along your message, by the way.”
“Oh, good,” Blanc said. “I hope they didn’t get in any trouble. MI5 had agents tailing me.”
“They texted when we came through their airport,” Phillip said, whisking the presents out of his arms so he could work on the snarled laces of his shoes. “All is well.”
“Anyone can feel free to help!” Helen called through the doorway, and Phillip and Marta both hastily reached through to unload casseroles from the stack in her arms.
“Remind me why we have these?” Blanc asked, as Phillip cleared counter space.
“Jud’s parishioners somehow found out where and when he’s celebrating Christmas,” Helen said. “Is this a tuna casserole?” She set it gingerly on the counter.
“Someone drove down from Upstate New York on Boxing Day to hand-deliver him casseroles?” Phillip asked, stealing a spoonful of sweet potato casserole. “We should get him doing your publicity, Blanc.”
“No, thank you,” Jud said, staggering in through the door with an enormous wrapped present. “What is this?”
“Who’s it to?” Marta asked, examining it.
“Uhhh…” Jud had to crane his neck around to read the card. “Helen. From Blanc.”
Blanc, who had just started to pour himself some whiskey, froze. His alarm was plastered incriminatingly across his face.
“Uh,” he said. “In my defense, some of these things I acquired while still drugged.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Helen said, hanging her coat on the increasingly overfilled coat rack and flopping onto the couch.
“Scoot,” Marta said to Helen, perching next to her on the couch and tucking her feet under her leg. “Wow. That humid cold really sucks. I can’t feel my toes.”
“Sure, just use my thighs to warm them up,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. Marta gave her an admirable puppy-dog-eyed expression, which Blanc resolved to add to his repertoire of interrogation expressions.
“I’ll get a fire going,” Jud offered, ever the peacekeeper, and the women traded looks of mingled amusement and fondness.
“You all seem cozy,” Blanc said, as Marta tossed Jud a lighter as he passed. Phillip handed Helen a glass of hot apple cider from the microwave.
“If you’re feeling left out,” Phillip said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Don’t get kidnapped and miss all the bonding time next holiday.”
“Hardly my fault,” Blanc objected, tipping his head back to catch Phillip’s expression and trying out Marta’s puppy-dog-eyes. He waited until Phillip looked like he might be about to apologize and then grinned. “After all, if I hadn’t gotten kidnapped, you all might never have grown so close.” Phillip groaned but kissed him on the forehead anyway.
“You,” he said. “Are ridiculous. Sit down and open your presents.”
He steered Blanc to the other couch and pushed him firmly into his seat.
“Yes, you go first,” Helen said.
“No, giant drug-induced present first,” he said, and she laughed. She got up, ducking Marta’s half-hearted attack with a pillow, and approached the giant present.
“Someone hand me a knife,” she said. “I’m going in.”
Three layers of wrapping paper and a cardboard box later, the room was in howls of laughter. Even Blanc, still faithfully trying to defend his purchase, had to wipe some tears of mirth from his eyes.
“Why??” Helen half-shouted, throwing a thirteenth stuffed Big Ben on the ground. “Blanc!” She dissolved into laughter, sticking her entire torso into the box. “There’s so many!” she yelled, muffled this time.
“It’s-“ he had to break off to laugh again. “They’re for your students.”
“What?” she pulled her head out of the box, holding another stuffed clocktower in each hand.
“I thought, you, I thought-“ She tried to balance the new additions onto her pyramid, sending the whole thing scattering to the ground, which set everyone off into another round of helpless laughter. Jud was actively wheezing. Blanc tried to pull himself together. “I thought- are you all right, son? I thought you could give one to each kid when you told them where you went for solstice. Christmas. Whichever.” Phillip was laughing so hard he’d tipped over his wineglass, which was now perilously close to staining the couch. Well, it wasn’t like anything in here’d ever had a spotless look to it.
“But then-“ Blanc couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. The memory of being so chemically disoriented was unpleasant in its own right, but he had left his future self quite a gift. He paused for a second to look over the flushed, crying-with-laughter faces of his family. “I couldn’t remember how many kids are in a third grade class.” Helen gasped.
“How many did you order?” she asked, fumbling for the packing slip.
“Well, I didn’t want to get too few,” Blanc said, right as she made a choked sound.
“FIFTY?”
Blanc waved a dismissive hand, which set them all off on another round of cackling, and took a sip of his whiskey.
Eventually, they all started to calm down, only occasionally relapsing into giggles.
“What’s next?”
“Oh, I was curious about this one,” Phillip said, and put a tiny box into Blanc’s hand. “From Williard. Who 100% hacked her way into my digital eVite I sent you all for the solstice party, by the way. Norris sent me the access log.”
“Hm,” Blanc said. “Intruigin’, certainly.” The others sat up, curiosity wiping the amusement from their faces as they all leaned in. Jud even put his hand on Phillip’s shoulder to lean over him, though Blanc let his eye skim across the detail like you would with a skittish cat.
He unwrapped the box.
Inside, there were two folded slips of paper and a USB drive.
The first piece of paper was his pencil rubbing of the wood grain of the Russian doors. On the back, in red pen, Williard had drawn a surprisingly lifelike herring. Blanc chuckled.
The other piece of paper was a note.
“Read it?” Phillip asked, squinting at it over his shoulder.
“Ahem,” he said, flicking the paper open with flair, and had the privilege to see his kids each roll their eyes as Phillip beamed. “It says:
Mr. Blanc,
Enclosed, you will find a small token of my appreciation for your efforts in resolving the mystery. Perhaps someday we can meet again in more favourable circumstances, and you can fill me in on the process of deduction you used for certain details. No hurry.
Mrs. Fox has safely returned home, and said to tell you she is mailing you a pudding. I have no idea if it will make it through customs. Doris and her son are also doing better. It seems her son found a winning Lotto ticket on the street and they’ve come into a small bit of extra money that he put aside for counselling. Graham also reports that Earl has made a full recovery and hates hospital food. He’s also been offered a generous early retirement package.
It was an honor to meet your family. I see they all have your heart.
-Tori
P.S. Please forward fruit basket recommendations for your friend, Norris and pass along my apologies.
“So…” Jud said, into the quiet that followed the reading. “What’s on the drive?”
“It would be funny if it was a computer virus,” Marta said. Helen gave her a sidelong look.
“Don’t tempt fate,” she chided.
“Uh, I suppose we can plug it into the old tower computer?” Blanc said. “I’m not certain it would be wise to use my laptop.”
Which is how he ended up in an office chair, four people trying to occupy the exact same space as him, staring at a PDF copy of an official-looking memo.
To whom it may concern:
I officially tender my resignation from the company. The unchecked and egregious behavior of a high-ranking leader has made me question our ethical standards. I will be in touch with details.
Relatedly, if anyone feels a need to follow up with subject Argus, please know I have created a detailed press release with interviews and photographic evidence of how he came to contract for us. This package will arrive in the hands of several reliable contacts of mine in the international press if the company takes further action.
Thank you.
“Did she.. blackmail MI5 to stop them ever kidnapping you again?” Jud asked slowly.
“Well, I did solve the case,” Blanc replied. “There are some in their number who probably considered it a success.”
“We should get her something nice,” Phillip mused, throwing an arm over Blanc’s shoulder as they retreated back to the sitting room. “What do you get a very-recently-former spy?”
“It’s Jud turn to open a present,” Helen said solemnly. “I think we should wrap all the casseroles in tin foil and make him open them one at a time.”
“Then I’m wrapping all your clocks,” Jud retorted, then looked surprised at himself.
“Aha! He does banter!” Helen said, high-fiving Marta.
The three of them descended on the pile of presents, picking through and pointing out nametags, and Blanc fell back to lean against Phillip in the kitchen.
“Eggnog?” Phillip asked, holding up a nutmeg grater.
“No, thanks, I’m okay,” Blanc said, calm and warm. “I already have everything I need.”