SquidgeWorld Archive

Family Christmas
by Dusty Tyree

Captain Vincent Hunter, currently on vacation from his position as a senior I.A officer in the district of Washington, raised the gleaming brass knocker on the solid front door and banged once, making the large Christmas wreath decorating it, vibrate.

Waiting for someone to open said door, he nervously straightened his already immaculate tie then brushed the same hand over his short hair. He tightened his grip on the bottle of wine, he'd brought. The manners instilled by his mother to bring something to a shared meal, giving him something to hold.

Suddenly, this was a VERY bad idea.

What had possessed him to make arrangements to come to Cascade and telephone his uncle to see if the standing invitation for Christmas was still valid?

He remembered the surprise in William Ellison's voice on the phone, but couldn't fault the warmth in the tone when he was told that 'the family' would be glad to see him and that he was welcome at any time.

The Christmas Eve party was scheduled to start at 8 pm, but the immediate family - which Hunter surmised consisted of his uncle, two cousins, plus any wives, or girlfriends that may have accrued since he last heard any family gossip - were to have lunch together and for him to please attend.

So, here he was, waiting to be admitted to the large house; a house he barely remembered, first as a small child, then the awkward years of a teenager, visiting cousins during various birthday parties and holidays. It all suddenly seemed so far away. He'd barely kept in touch personally, the obligatory Christmas cards, which he'd neglected last year, was about the limit of his involvement. He had, however, read about Detective James Ellison on more than one occasion, and it sounded like his cousin was a first-rate cop, and honest. That meant something to Hunter, he liked honesty. He didn't see too much of it in his job.

The sound of a cheerful shout "I'll get it..." and the sound of uneven footsteps on a hardwood floor came clearly to his straining ears and the door was flung open. Hunter found himself looking down into the face of a young man, with long, curly brown hair, who was a good six inches shorter than himself. The sparkling blue eyes in the bruised, but smiling face, widened as they met his own.

The silence seemed to last for years instead of seconds as the young man stared up at him, jaw literally dropping open in astonishment.

Hunter felt like checking to see if he had any buttons, or zips open; he cleared his throat, but before he could speak, a voice shouted "Who is it, Chief?"

"Er... um...."

"Vincent Hunter," said Hunter, answering both the verbal question and the one in the wide eyes.

"Oh, please, do come in," the young man, flushed slightly as he realised he'd kept one of his host's guests standing on the doorstep. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving the stranger's familiar features.

Hunter strolled into the hallway, the calm exterior belying his inner turmoil.

"This way, please," the young man said, turning towards an open door.

Hunter noticed that there seemed to be something wrong with the kid, he was limping and a trifle unsteady. Maybe he was drunk already. With that yellowing, but, spectacular bruise on his forehead, he looked as if he'd been in a fight. With the long, curly, hair flowing across fairly broad shoulders and shorter stature, he certainly didn't look like the Ellison/Hunter side of the family. The men all tended to be six-footers or over. For the life of him, Hunter couldn't fit the kid into any of the family he remembered.

His lip curled.

What the hell had he got himself into?

Well, it WAS Christmas, give the kid a break Hunter, he admonished himself.

Then he saw the white bandage under the leg of the casual pants the kid was wearing, and sighed at his initial suspicion. Lighten up, he told himself..

"Jim..." the young man called as he pushed the door wider, stumbling a little in his excitement.

Another man came towards them, his voice calm, even as he scolded. "I told you to keep off that foot, Chief, I would've got the door."

"I know, I know, but Jim..." He waved a hand at the visitor, who was staring at the other man in surprised disbelief.

Hunter saw a man who was as tall as he was, the eyes that met his, the same shade of blue, the clean-cut face... was identical to the one he saw in the mirror every morning when he shaved. The only difference was this man was dressed in black, casual slacks, a blue, long-sleeved shirt and black leather loafers.

He saw the same shock of recognition in his cousin's eyes.

"Vincent?" Jim's voice was questioning.

"Yeah. Jimmy?" Hunter wondered why his voice sounded so calm. He hadn't remembered how physically alike he and his first cousin were, it was, to put it mildly, a bit of a shock.

"Jim," corrected the other man.

Hunter inclined his head in acknowledgement. This man didn't look like 'Jimmy' any longer. This wasn't the teenage boy he'd last seen, with the rather shy smile and awkwardness of someone two years' younger than himself.

This was a man, confident in his own abilities and strengths who'd had his share of life's knocks... with eyes that seemed to see straight into Vincent's own uneasy soul.

He became aware that Ellison was holding out his right hand.

"Sorry," his cousin grinned. "I forgot how much alike we look. It's good to see you, it's been a long time."

Hunter took the hand, a firm clasp, and refrained from trying to do the macho thing and see who gave in first.

"A very long time," he agreed amicably.

A soft murmur beside them brought them back to the present and the smaller man who'd opened the door, who, despite the obvious injured leg, was shifting eagerly from one foot to the other.

Jim turned and put his hand on his shoulder. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"Partner? He's a cop?" Vincent couldn't help the note of incredulity in his voice.

Sandburg smiled and held out his hand. "No. I'm an Observer at the Police Department, Major Crime."

Hunter shook the hand briefly, nodding, even as he thought uncharitably: Looks more like he should be in Vice.

There was an awkward pause, as the three men studied each other, then both Jim and Hunter spoke together:

"Please come through, we're in the Dining Room." "I hope this wine will be suitable."

The slight tension eased as Blair laughed, and Jim took the package. "Thanks."

Vincent followed his cousin through another door into a large, airy room, with big windows that let in the watery sunshine. An oblong dining table, decorated with Christmas motif, was set with places for six people, and Hunter gave a small sigh of relief that there wasn't going to be too large a party of strangers for the lunch.

An older man with grey hair, who Hunter recognised as his mother's brother, was standing at the sideboard, checking on bottles of wine and liquor, and he turned and smiled as the three men entered.

His eyes widened for a second as he saw a man, immaculately dressed in a light grey suit with white shirt and striped blue and grey tie; a man with his son's face. William blinked once, then held out his hand in greeting.

"Vincent, I'm so glad you decided to come. Please sit down." He indicated a couple of couches in the L-shaped alcove. "Lunch won't be long, Sally is just putting the finishing touches, and Stephen isn't here yet. Would you like a drink?"

Hunter took the hand. "Thanks, Uncle Bill," unconsciously using the shortened version he'd used as a teenager, then seated himself on the nearest couch, trying to relax. This was not Washington, he didn't have to watch every word that came out of his mouth.

William Ellison busied himself with glasses and bottles, holding up the whisky bottle with an upraised eyebrow.

Hunter nodded. "On the rocks... thanks."

Jim came over to the sideboard and handed his father the wrapped bottle. "Present from Cousin Vincent," he grinned, then poured himself a beer and opened a bottle of coke, which he handed to his partner who had settled himself on the other couch.

"Coke? Aw Jim...."

"No alcohol until you finish with those meds, Chief."

Hunter looked at the young man, noticing for the first time the little frown of pain between his eyebrows.

Ellison noticed the look and explained. "He took a spill in the bullpen, cracked a couple of ribs, bruises and a slight concussion."

"In the police station?" Hunter asked in surprise.

"Yeah, a couple of drunks got away from the uniforms and decided to invade Major Crime. Sandburg got caught in the middle, plus he'd already sprained his ankle trying to jump a wall." He gave his friend a fond smile. "Only you, Chief... only you."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault, I was minding my own business... doing YOUR paperwork don't forget ... when a very large cop landed on my head."

"Yeah, yeah..." but the look on Ellison's face belied his flippant tone.

He really likes that kid, thought Hunter in some surprise. Maybe there's more to this young hippie than I thought, despite the long curls and colourful clothes.

Blair was wearing a blue sweater, with a red-nosed reindeer on the front. It was obviously a joke present, for who would buy anything like that for himself.

"So, you're an observer?" asked Hunter, sipping the very good malt in the crystal glass.

"Yeah," Sandburg said, trying to ease his leg into a more comfortable position. "I'm an anthropology grad student and I'm doing my dissertation on police societies... I ride along with Jim."

"That's a bit unusual." Hunter said thoughtfully.

"Sandburg helps out at the station in most everything," Jim broke in. "Filing... flirting... typing up records... flirting... doing research... flirting... with the donut girl, the girl in Forensics, the girls in dispatch..."

"Hey," Blair said indignantly. "I keep Simon distracted when he's on the rampage."

Jim grinned, "That you do, Chief... that you certainly do."

The two men shared a grin and Hunter couldn't help the small seed of envy that stemmed from that. These two were very much in tune with each other; he'd had that once, or thought he had, until the very worst betrayal by his partner - not to mention his ex-wife.

"So, what's been happening to you over the years, Vincent?" William Ellison turned to his nephew. "Jim heard you'd moved to DC after your mother passed away."

Hunter shrugged. "Nothing much. I work in Chief Manion's District."

"Yeah?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "I hear that Manion's an honest man."

"He is." Hunter took another sip of his drink. "Although it's hard sometimes when he wants to break the rules as often as he does, he doesn't always go by the book."

... and I bet, you do, thought Jim, giving his cousin a shrewd glance.

"Oh?" William leaned forward.

Hunter shifted uncomfortably. He knew what the detectives in Washington called him, the Dark Side of the Force, and that most detectives anywhere hated anyone who worked in I.A. Although he knew that Jim would know which department he worked in, he hoped that it would not become an issue. He wanted to forget about I.A. and his colleagues.

"Yes. He can be very stubborn at times."

"He isn't the only one," came the murmur from Blair's corner of the couch.

"What was that, Chief?" Jim pantomimed a hand at his ear.

"Just saying that Mr Manion isn't the only one with a stubborn streak, there's another one not a million miles from here."

William laughed. "I'll say."

Jim pretended to look affronted. "Well, if you're gonna gang up on me..."

Vincent couldn't help a smile, it was obvious this was an old topic, but Jim didn't seem put out at all, as he continued. "I'll take my cousin away for a look round." He raised an eyebrow at Hunter, who nodded, relieved to be let off the hook.

Wonder if he knows how uncomfortable I feel, he thought as he stood up.

"Yeah, I'd like that. It's a while since I've seen the house and garden. Do you still have that tree we used to play..." he stopped and looked at Jim, wondering if he remembered how he'd found him, hiding in the lower branches, upset at something he'd heard.

Jim, however, didn't seem to remember, or chose not too, and grinned. "Yes, it's still there. Come on, I'll show you around." He turned a stern face to the youngest member of the group who had been making motions to rise. "You. Stay. Put. Rest that leg. Understand?" He lightly batted the back of the curly head and Sandburg subsided with a grumble.

William smiled at the by-play. "Come on, Blair, you can help me open some of this wine to breathe."

"O'kay..." Blair cast a longing glance as the two men moved out of the room.

He dearly wanted to join in, listen and learn more about this man with Jim's face, but thought it would be rude to butt in; he wasn't a relative, not part of the Ellison family, even though he was probably closer to Jim than this look-alike cousin. Still, he couldn't barge in, he still wasn't used to the fact that Jim, and his father and brother, thought of him as family, it was scary at times, and there was no way he was going to jeopardise that by indulging his curiosity. He consoled himself with the thought that he'd get Jim to tell him all about this stern-seeming man when they got a minute to themselves.

Vincent found himself relaxing slightly as they walked around the house, Jim showing him the new additions that had been put in over the last few years. This constituted mainly of a large conservatory with a magnificent view of the long gardens at the back of the house.

Sliding open the doors, Jim escorted Hunter outside into the weak winter sunshine, not seeming to mind that he was just in his shirt sleeves and it wasn't exactly warm.

They walked down towards the end of the garden where a large oak tree held its lofty head above the rest of it's smaller neighbours. Walking round the base, Hunter crouched down and read the initials, still faintly visible that had been carved about three feet from the base.
V H and J J E

Jim smiled as Hunter looked up at him. "D'you remember that day?" he asked.

Vincent nodded, a small smile curling his own lips. "Yeah. Stephen was very pissed off that we wouldn't let him carve his initials. We said it was a teenage thing and he wasn't old enough."

Jim laughed, "He couldn't even hold the knife steady enough, although he did try when you went home."

Hunter smiled, then stifled a small sigh. "Happier days," he said softly.

Jim shifted a little. "I know what happened," he said uncomfortably. "I was in Washington last year and heard about ..."

Hunter tensed, then looked up at his cousin. "Water under the bridge," he said brusquely.

Jim looked at him a long moment, then nodded and touched Hunter's shoulder.

Hunter stood up and automatically brushed at the knees of his trousers, although he hadn't actually knelt on the damp ground, oddly comforted by that small gesture of support.

"I heard you got married, a while back. Will your wife be coming to lunch?" he asked, trying to remember the woman's name.

Jim grimaced. "Divorced," he said.

"Oh," he looked sideways at Jim. "Should I say 'sorry'?"

"Not really," Jim walked around the tree, "we're better friends now than when we were married." He paused, then said "Shit... sorry..." remembering how he'd heard that his cousin's divorce had been a lot more acrimonious.

Hunter shrugged. "Like I said... water under the bridge."

They examined what had been their tree for a few more minutes, then Hunter spoke, a statement rather than a question. "It was rough when you got out of the Army?"

Jim nodded. "Yes. You?"

Hunter nodded. "Couldn't seem to settle at first, but I guess it was harder for you. I heard about Peru... that must've been very hard." His voice was sympathetic, but not intrusive.

"What I remember of it, yeah, it was." Jim picked up a twig and threw it at the garden pool. "I found out just a few months ago that the colonel in charge of intelligence was responsible for my men dying out there, he set us up."

Hunter stopped and stared. "What?"

"Yeah, the bastard had a drug pipeline he wanted to keep open."

"Where is he now?"

"Dead"

"Good!" was Hunter's reply.

The two pairs of identical blue eyes met and exchanged a feral acknowledgement of satisfaction that justice had been done.

They continued their walk around the garden, just reminiscing about their teenage years and the times they'd spent together, which hadn't been all that many. Hunter found himself relaxing with every moment in his cousin's company. Although they had the same features, they weren't alike and had different experiences, but he found himself comfortable with this relative, and was glad he'd taken the first step forward in getting to know him again. Hopefully, the rest of the family would be as agreeable.

"So, what's the deal with Sandburg?" Hunter asked, that thought had been tugging at his mind. His cousin, from what he'd heard and read about in recent years, wasn't the kind to tolerate a college kid tagging along. He knew he wouldn't be able to be civil for even a day, if someone had saddled him with a hippie-look-alike. "Doesn't he get in your way, at times?"

Jim paused, recognising the tone. He'd heard it enough times in the past months since Sandburg had thrown himself, literally, into Jim's life. He looked his cousin straight in the eye.

"Sandburg has saved my life on more than one occasion. He may look like a kid, hell, he IS a kid compared to me and Simon and half the other men in Major Crime... he doesn't have a lot of experience with police work, but he's the fastest learner and has got more guts in his little finger than most people I know have in their whole bodies."

Hunter cocked an eyebrow, intriqued by Jim's defence of his friend. "Really?"

"Yeah really." Jim paused, he could sense that Hunter didn't really believe him. "You ever hear of the Sunrise Patriots? Garret Kincaid?"

Hunter nodded cautiously. "Yeah, seems I read about them taking over a police station..." His eyes widened. "Hell, yes, it was here in Cascade."

"Yeah, well that was the first day of Blair's ride-along. He hadn't even got his Pass when he was locked in with that maniac along with a lot of others. He took out two of Kincaid's men... with a toilet door and a vending machine... and talked Kincaid into NOT killing him when he was captured trying to get down from the seventh floor on a window cleaner's cradle."

Hunter's eyes had widened as Ellison spoke passionately about his young partner, and had to believe every word, but some seemed to stick out like a beacon... "a toilet door... and a vending machine?"

Jim grinned, relaxing a little. "Yep, that's right. He doesn't like guns."

Hunter was lost for words, although the thought did cross his mind that maybe Sandburg didn't need a gun.

Just then a shout came from the house. "Hey, you guys... grub's up."

Jim laughed. "That's Sandburg, subtle, sophisticated."

Hunter smiled a little. "I think I'm going to have to get to know more about your.. er... ride-along partner."

Jim stared at him for a moment, then relaxed as he caught the humour in his cousin's eyes.

"Brace yourself, it's a scary place in the Sandburg Zone."

He laughed at the puzzled frown on the identical face looking at him. "That's Simon - my Boss'- description of Blair's mind."

"Maybe I'll need a map," Hunter joked.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Jim said, and led the way back into the house, and lunch.

When they re-entered the house it was to find that Stephen and his girlfriend, Sonia, had arrived.

Stephen looked amazed at the man who could've been his brother's identical twin, and Sonia squealed in delight. "Oh, that is amazing."

Vincent winced at the high-pitched giggle and caught Jim doing the same, and the two shared a slight smile.

Stephen looked apologetic, then said, "I should've remembered, but you didn't seem to be this much alike when you were younger."

William smiled. "Probably not, but the resemblance was always there."

"You both look so... so military," said Sonia brightly.

"That's probably because we are - were," Jim said, leading the way into the Dining Room; wanting to check on Blair and get away from Sonia. He'd only met her once before and had hoped that Stephen would've found sonmeone else. She got on his nerves without even trying. He found Blair standing on a chair, balancing on his good foot as he tried to replace a garland that had slipped from its place above one of the windows.

"Chief," he said, hurrying across to his friend. "Let me," he said softly as he saw the frustration in Blair's eyes.

"I can do it," said Blair, trying not to snap.

"Yes, I know... but... okay, okay." He stepped back and watched anxiously as Blair stretched and finally managed to hook the strand in place, his hands itching to either steady the younger man, or just replace the damn garland himself.

"Got it," said Blair in triumph, casting a look of satisfaction at his partner, then spoiled it as he put the weight back on his injured foot and let out a soft grunt of pain.

Jim's firm hand on his arm helped him down and he allowed his Sentinel to settle him on the chair to catch his breath. Glancing up, beads of sweat on his brow, he groaned softly as he saw that Hunter had seen what had happened.

"He doesn't like me to start with, and now he'll think I'm a useless jerk," he muttered, Sentinel soft

Jim smiled. "No, he won't. I don't think Cousin Vincent is as bad as he's painted."

"Really?" Blair looked hopeful. "Just got good walls, like you did - do - sometimes?"

"Something like that. Now let me get you your meds, they're overdue."

Blair sighed. "Okay, thanks." That wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had, not only had he reawakened the ache in his ankle, his injured ribs didn't like being stretched either.

Blair smiled a little ruefully as Jim left the room, and Hunter strolled across to sit beside him.

"So, how long have you been riding with Jim?"

Blair's mouth opened in surprise, he was sure that the other man was going to say something about his stupidity and having to allow Jim to help him.

"Oh, just over a year," he stammered.

"A bit different to a lecture hall, huh?"

Blair grinned, relaxing a little. "Just a tad," he joked.

During the time it took for Ellison to return with a glass of water and two pills, Blair was excitedly telling Hunter about the trip they'd taken to Peru to find Simon and his son Darryl.

Jim smiled, glad to see his friend and his cousin were at least communicating. It was a good start to the holidays.

Lunch was delicious, and the small talk and chatter were light enough that Vincent could relax a little more. He could have done without Sonia's incessant giggle, but managed not to be rude, even when some of her comments bordered on the childish.

He saw Blair look at Jim in concern as Ellison rubbed his forehead, but when the detective smiled and shook his head slightly, the younger man relaxed, then set out to gradually guide the conversation away to other topics, general and none threatening, to Hunter at least. He, for one, was getting really tired of hearing how great it was that the two cousins looked so much alike and had they changed places when they'd been younger, Sonia seemed obsessed with that particular idea.

Hunter found himself looking more closely at young Sandburg, there certainly was more to him than on first appearance, and he was annoyed briefly with himself; he, of all people, should be well aware that surface impressions weren't always correct.

He also got the impression that there was something between his cousin and the young grad student, some secret they both shared. He didn't think it was sexual, neither one gave him the impression that they were gay, it was more than that.

For one thing they seemed to have a secret language, Ellison seemed to know what Blair was going to do, or say, and it worked both ways.

At times when Jim seemed uncomfortable with either the noise level, due mostly to Sonia's constant high-pitched giggle, or the smell of her perfume, which was pretty powerful, Sandburg's hand on his arm, or lower back, seemed to ease the discomfort.

Neither his uncle or younger cousin seemed to notice, or if they did, they took it as something so natural that it didn't require comment, so Hunter decided just to watch, and learn.

One thing for sure, this Christmas holiday was turning out to be enjoyable as well as therapeutic. He was now very glad he'd taken that first step to rejoin his relatives, and maybe even to lose some of the bitterness that had dragged at him since Ellen's betrayal.

Yep, this Christmas was going to be very, VERY interesting.

Dusty Tyree
(c) November 2006