Work Text:
Blue Christmas
By Tinnean
Day shift was over. We'd be having a Christmas party of sorts in my office, but I didn't think they'd notice if I was a little late.
It didn't take very long to get to the cemetery. I pulled into the parking lot, got out, and walked down the path that led to Tim Speedle's grave. In the small metal container fastened to the headstone was a fresh rose. There was a standing order with a local florist that one be placed there once a week.
If Joe DiMaggio could do it for Marilyn Monroe, I could do it for the man who had been my lover.
At the base of the stone was a large pot of poinsettias, red and white, and I knew without looking that it was from his parents.
"Why'd your folks leave you down here, Speed?" I'd been positive that after the simple wake, his mother and father would have chosen to have his body shipped ... home.
But Syracuse hadn't been his home, not any longer.
For a short time, his home had been with me.
I knew it was wrong, and not because we were two men. We worked together. I was his supervisor. As much as I tried, I could never get over that.
Finally, Tim had given a rueful smile. "I tell you what, H. There's a spot opening up on Nights. How about I put in for it?"
It wasn't an ideal solution, we'd only be seeing each other on the fly, but it was the best we could come up with.
But before he could apply for the transfer, we had a boat crashing into a bridge that evolved into a kidnapping case that led us to a jewelry shop where the precious stones that would have bought a little boy's return to his parents had been swiped out for fakes.
And then his gun misfired, and he was dead.
I took off my sunglasses and squeezed the bridge of my nose. "Merry Christmas, Tim."
****
My Hummer was idling at a light when Elvis' voice came out of the speakers.
'I'll have a blue Christmas without you...'
I gave a bitter laugh.
Christmas in Florida. That was an oxymoron if ever I heard one.
Sometime after Thanksgiving, garlands of artificial evergreen would appear, wrapped around the cables that held traffic lights, and wreaths would be tacked up on storefronts, hung on buildings of strip malls, fastened to light poles.
Along the side of the roads tents would pop up, offering live Christmas trees for sale, live garlands, live wreaths.
Stores would have their decorations up by as early as Labor Day, but once Thanksgiving had passed, there would be no escaping the holiday music. It got to the point where we tuned it out.
Usually we had sun. Occasionally we'd have rain. But there would never be snow.
I had been born and raised in Miami, so I was used to a Christmas with no snow. So were two other members of my CSI crew: Eric Delko, who had also been born in Miami, although he'd been conceived in Cuba, and Calleigh Duquesne, who was from Louisiana.
Alexx Woods, the M.E., had come to us from New York. She'd seen plenty of snow, and she appreciated our winters. Tim Speedle had been born even further north, in Syracuse, New York.
He was the one who bitched the most. "Christmas with no snow... Shit, man. You can go swimming in the ocean down here! That ain't Christmas!"
Speed...
He'd been gone for three months now.
Someone honked behind me, and I saw that the light had turned green. I drove on to headquarters.
No one was in the elevator. My reflection in the door assured me my eyes weren't red, and I put my sunglasses in my breast pocket. The car came to a halt, and I stepped out on my floor.
I paused at the door to make sure I was under control, then walked into my office. The party had already started.
"H!" Eric grabbed my hand.
"Horatio!" Calleigh kissed my cheek.
"Hi, sugar!" Alexx hugged me.
I shook hands and kissed and hugged, and went to my desk to examine the layout. In the center was a punch bowl filled with red liquid. Flanking it were plastic cups, plates, and spoons and forks. A coffee urn burbled on a stand near the window. Beside it was the miniature Christmas tree Speed had given me the year before.
Calleigh and Alexx had done what women always did. They'd brought food.
Calleigh's offering was red and had antennas. Crawfish, I figured, something Cajun, guaranteed to sear the esophagus all the way down.
Alexx had brought a box filled with the sugar cookies she made for her kids every year, reindeer, snowmen, Santas dotted with red and green sprinkles. I couldn't help a wistful smile. Speed had always loved her cookies.
I ladled some punch into a cup, took a sip, and gasped and started to choke. Someone had spiked it, and I didn't need to see the flask peeking from Eric's back pocket to know that had been his contribution to the festivities.
Eric must have been sampling the punch. He had a sprig of mistletoe, and he held it first over Calleigh's head, and then Alexx's. The kisses were playful and close-mouthed.
There was a tap on the doorframe, and I looked around to see Ryan Wolfe, our newest CSI, hovering there.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant Caine."
"Come on in, Ryan." I gave him the best smile I could and gestured for him to join us.
Ryan was still feeling his way. It had taken a while for the others to accept him.
It had been my call to recruit him from street beat to CSI and have him look into the matter of Calleigh's father running a man down while driving home after he'd been drinking. He'd solved the case, and 'Duke' Duquesne had been exonerated of the homicide.
I knew Ryan still felt awkward at times.
"Why don't you help yourself to a glass of punch? Just be careful. It's got a kick." I didn't want him getting tipsy. It wouldn't look good for a CSI to get pulled over for a DWI.
"I'll keep an eye on him, H." Eric grinned, his hand behind his back.
"That isn't necessary, Delko. I can take care of myself, you know."
"I know." Eric whipped his hand over Ryan's hear, letting the mistletoe dangle. He leaned in and kissed him. "Merry Christmas, mi corazon."
"Delko!" Ryan's cheeks were red. That kiss hadn't been playful, and it hadn't been close-mouthed.
"Something going on I should know about, Eric?" It seemed that one of my CSIs had accepted Speedle's replacement more than I realized.
"Nah, H. I'm just yanking his chain."
"Dammit...!" Ryan's eyes narrowed, and he smacked Eric's arm.
I turned away, wondering if Ryan was aware we all spoke Spanish and knew Eric had called him 'my heart.'
Alexx came to me. "Are you all right, Horatio?"
"I'm a little tired. I think I'll go home now."
"Merry Christmas, sugar."
"Merry Christmas, Alexx."
The others called out 'Merry Christmas.'
The corner of my mouth twisted in a smile. I raised my hand in farewell and left.
For a while I sat in the Hummer, absently listening to the Christmas music that poured out of the speakers.
'I'll have a blue Christmas without you...'
That damned song again. With a savage twist I turned off the radio and put the Hummer in gear.
~End~