This story is M/M Fraser/Kowalski slash. RATING: PG. WARNINGS: None, except that this is a very romantic holiday story. So if you dislike sentiment, stop here. : ) Note: B & E stands for breaking and entering. And the wonderful song mentioned in this story, "Upon a Christmas Eve" by Michael Johnson, is from the CD "The Stars Come Out for Christmas". DISCLAIMER: Of course, these characters don't belong to me, at Christmas and otherwise. SING WE NOW OF CHRISTMAS Caroline Alert December 19, 1999 Sing We Now of Christmas By Caroline Alert Ray Kowalski looked at the staircase leading up to his apartment with glazed eyes. It was only a few flights up, but tonight, it felt like miles. *Been a long day. No -- more like a long two days.* Yesterday, he'd worked all day and all night too; his regular shift, plus an all-night stakeout of a drug dealer's place, as a favor to another Detective. Ordinarily, after pulling two shifts in a row like that, he could've taken the next day off. But they were always short of officers at Christmas time, so he'd volunteered to pick up the slack, and work some extra shifts for guys who had families. So he'd done the same thing today. After the stakeout, he'd come home just long enough to shower and change his clothes. Then he'd gone back to the 27th , and it was all aboard for fun time again, with another night's stakeout to follow. *Well, my Dad had warned him not to volunteer for anything,* he thought. As soon as he'd hit the door in the morning, the 27th had started to fill up with more than its usual share of hookers, pimps, thieves and ne'er do wells. As he'd headed for the break room to get a cup of coffee, still bleary-eyed from the unsuccessful stakeout the night before, a junkie Huey was arresting had tossed his cookies all over his boots. To add insult to injury, later that afternoon, a suspect he'd collared for B & E punched him while resisting arrest. And the fun didn't end when his day shift did. After that, from 6 p.m. on, he went on stakeout again. He and Johnson, the narc he was working the drug case with, didn't pack it in until two a.m., after the scumbag dealer's lights had been out for hours, and it was obvious nothing was going to happen that night. Ray shook his head wryly. *Day in the life of a cop. What a picnic.* He fingered his jaw, and winced a little. It still ached. And to top it all off, to make everything just perfect, since the Ice Queen was throwing a Christmas Ball at the Consulate, Fraser was overloaded with work too. So between that and his stakeout, they'd hardly seen each other for the last week. It was almost 3 a.m. now. He knew he should be glad to be home, and looking forward to seeing Fraser, but he was too done in to feel anything positive. He looked down at his boots. At this point, it was easier than trying to hold his head up. But the view wasn't exactly inspiring. Despite his hasty attempt to clean them off in the can that morning, he could still see traces of junkie vomit at the edges of his soles. Not to mention the fact that since Johnson was a chain smoker, he reeked of stale cigarette smoke, too. He sighed. *Helluva way to spend Christmas Eve,* he thought. Then it hit him: until that second, he hadn't thought about what day it was. Not once. Somewhere beneath his exhaustion, regret stirred. Old memories surfaced. When he was a kid, Christmas Eve was something special. Even magical. His mom used to make shortbread and Christmas cookies, and she'd let him and his brother stay up late, put out some of the cookies on the fireplace mantle for Santa, and even open a present early. Any present they wanted. He smiled a little, remembering that. Then his smile disappeared. Christmas Eve used to be about family. Cookies. Magic. Now, he felt like he was a thousand miles away from all that. Trapped in some other, much darker universe, where evil, rather than magic, ruled. *Now it's about drug dealers. Junkies. Criminals and cigarette smoke....* Now he'd gone through the whole day -- missed it, really -- without even noticing it. Without feeling even one tiny smidgen of happiness. It wasn't a comforting thought. But it was followed by an even worse one. *Christmas Eve. Gifts. Oh, no!* He felt a wave of panic. *I told Ben to come over so we could open a gift on Christmas Eve this year, like we used to do when I was a kid. How the hell did I forget that?* But somehow, in the rush of the last few days, he had. He'd even forgotten to get Ben's presents. Even though he'd forgotten about his idea of a Christmas Eve get together, he'd still meant to do that today. But things got away from him. He'd been so tired, and so busy, that it had completely slipped his mind. And now it was past midnight. Christmas Eve was officially over. He'd missed it. *You moron! You suck,* he told himself. He'd let Ben down. He usually gave him an armload of presents at Christmas, but this year, he'd gotten so bogged down with work that he hadn't even gotten him one gift; and now, it was far too late to try. All of the stores would be closed. He hung his head, feeling less like going home now than ever. Cuz he knew Fraser wouldn't have forgotten. Ben never forgot important stuff like that. Not ever. He was probably upstairs right now, waiting for him, gift in hand. And he didn't have anything for him. Not so much as a party hat. *I'm scum,* he thought bleakly, feeling a thousand years old as he forced his boots up the stairs at last. When he opened their apartment door quietly, Dief came running to greet him, as usual. But he shushed him before he could start barking, because he saw Ben sitting on the couch in a blue flannel shirt and jeans, his head back, fast asleep. And just as he'd feared, there were two gifts sitting on the coffee table in front of him. A Christmas tree stood on a stand in the corner as well, waiting to be decorated. Ray winced. The gifts were not a shock. But the tree was. A minor one, that would've been kinda pleasant under other circumstances, but that just added to his load of guilt right now. He hadn't expected Ben to go to all the trouble of getting him a tree, too. Worse still, since the lights were on, he knew Ben must've fallen asleep waiting for him to get home and open his presents. He was sweet that way. *He'd do anything for me,* Ray thought, swamped with guilt. Plus, he suspected that Ben had really been looking forward to opening a gift early himself, and to decorating the tree with him. Probably because his own childhood Christmases had been so lousy. Ray stared glumly at his sleeping lover, feeling doubly guilty. He'd always tried to make that up to Ben every year, by getting him lots of gifts. Decorating the tree with him, drinking egg nog, all that stuff. But this year, he'd screwed up, big time. A memory flashed through his mind, of how Fraser had once said, "I may be empty-handed, but I am not empty-trousered." Ray swallowed hard. *I'm both. Hell, I'm worse. Not just empty-handed and trousered: empty-headed, too. Stupid, stupid, stupid.* "Ray!" Ben woke suddenly, and looked right at him, as if he'd sensed his gaze on him even in his sleep. Ray tried to smile, but it was a weak effort. Ben sat up, rubbed his eyes and stretched a little. "I'm glad you're home," he said, smiling. But the way his face lit up, the affection in his voice, was just one more lash across Kowalski's guilty back. It seemed that Ben hadn't noticed yet that he wasn't carrying anything. *Or maybe he thinks I got his stuff stashed away in the bedroom somewhere. Gotta tell him,* Ray thought miserably. Cuz he never lied to Ben. Never. And today would be the worst of all possible days to start. "I forgot," he mumbled wretchedly at last. "What?" "I forgot. To get your presents, I mean. I've been on this stakeout, two nights running. No sleep. Then there was this junkie -- he blew chunks all over my boots," he said. He was babbling, and he knew it, but he was so tired, he couldn't think of the right way to explain his failure. "Then this B & E, he clipped me on the jaw, and -- well, never mind. Anyhow, I'm sorry I didn't make it home in time to decorate the tree. Thanks for that, and --" "What?" Fraser was on his feet suddenly, his eyes narrowing with concern as he strode over to him. "Someone hit you, Ray? Are you all right?" Kowalski couldn't believe it. "Dintcha hear me? I said, I forgot to --" "Yes, I heard you," Ben interrupted quietly. But it seemed the only part of his babble that had really registered with him was the part where he said he'd been punched, because Ben stopped in front of him and turned his head from side to side, examining Ray's jaw. "But the presents aren't important." "Not important?" Ray echoed, confused. "Whaddaya mean?" *He must be bein' polite. Gotta be. I know how much Christmas means to him.* "Just that," Ben said firmly. "I know you've been very busy, and you're obviously tired. That can wait." He finished his close inspection of Ray's face, and evidently reassured that no serious damage had been done, he smiled warmly at him. "I'm just glad you're home safe. As you've often said, Christmas can bring out the worst in people." *Or the best,* Ray thought, still dazed at the easy way Ben had forgiven him for the unpardonable sin of forgetting his gifts. "You look tired," Ben repeated. "Come and sit down. Take off your coat...." Too exhausted to protest, Ray let Ben lead him to their couch. But he had no intention of letting the matter of his Christmas presents go. "Look, so I'm tired. 'S no excuse," he muttered, as Fraser pushed him gently down onto the couch, and pulled off his coat. "You got me stuff, and --" "Not just me. One of those is from Diefenbaker," Ben explained, nodding his head at the gifts on the table as he knelt in front of Ray. Ray blinked, stunned. Across the room, Diefenbaker grinned a wolfy grin at him, and wagged his tail happily. "Oh," he said weakly, wondering if that was supposed to make him feel better. Actually, it made him feel even worse. *Jeez, even the wolf remembered Christmas!* Though how Dief had managed to pick something out, let alone buy it, was a mystery to him. *They issuin' Visa cards to wolves now?* Still, somehow, Dief had done it. And despite all the overtime he'd put in on the Consulate's Christmas ball lately, Fraser had done it, too. He was the only one, the only one who'd forgotten .... *I just don't have it in me anymore,* he thought, totally disheartened and ashamed. *I've lost it. That thing, the Christmas spirit. I don't have it anymore. It got lost somewhere. Too many late nights on scumbag stakeouts, chokin' on stale cigarette smoke. Too many junkies and crackwhores and knives and guns and --* Ray realized belatedly, as Ben took his right boot in his hands, that he was going to take them off for him. That he was stripping him down, like a dad with a tired little kid. And it was too much. "No, don't," he grated, his voice thick. Undone by one kindness too many, he pulled his foot away. Ben looked up at him, his dark brows drawing together in surprise. "What's the matter?" He was beautiful, so beautiful and kind and loving that it broke Ray's heart. He didn't deserve him, didn't deserve him at all. The Mountie had thought of everything: presents, even a tree. All for a thoughtless lowlife who hadn't thought of him. Who didn't even know how to celebrate Christmas anymore. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was just sheer exhaustion catching up with him, but Ray felt tears sting his eyes. "Don't touch 'em," he said gruffly. "Junkie spewed all over 'em today." That wasn't all of the problem, but it was as much as he could choke out. He didn't want Ben to touch his dirty boots -- or him either, cuz he didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve to be fussed over and pampered, when he'd been an insensitive idiot. "Lemme do it." He bent forward, meaning to pull his boots off himself, but Ben caught his tired face in his hands instead. "Ray," he said, very gently. "It's all right." Then he kissed him, just as gently. So gently that Ray felt a tear slide down his cheek. "No it's not," he whispered. But Ben didn't seem to hear him. He just leaned forward and hugged him. "Yes it is. We're together. That's all that counts," he murmured into his ear. Ray tried to think of some way to object to that, some way to explain why he felt so bad, not just about the gifts but about his own lack of holiday spirit. But his head was spinning with tiredness. The words just wouldn't come. And Ben felt infinitely warm, solid and comforting. So he just let himself melt for a minute, melt against his lover's big, strong body. He knew he didn't deserve Ben, but he felt good, so damn good he couldn't resist. "I smell like smoke," he heard himself mumble inanely after a time. "Johnson smokes. Like a friggin' chimney --" "I surmised as much. It's all right, Ray," Ben repeated. "You're exhausted. You should go to bed --" "No." He shook his head stubbornly. He couldn't go to bed, he had to think of something. Some way to make it all up to Ben.... "Then at least lie down and rest for a minute." Part of him didn't want to do that either. Part of him knew he had to do something about the gift problem, that he should ransack their apartment to try to find something, anything he could give Ben for Christmas -- but the other half of him couldn't seem to keep his eyes open. The tired half won out. He let Ben lay him down on the couch, and he didn't even protest any more when he felt Ben tugging gently at his boots. "Sorry," he whispered, his eyes drifting shut against his will. He felt like he was sinking down into the couch, like it was water. Or like he had no bones or something. "Tomorrow -- I'll get somethin' for ya tomorrow, I promise." "Just rest for a minute," Ben said quietly, soothingly from somewhere above him. "I have something special to give you. Something that will make you feel better...." Ray couldn't imagine what that would be, what could possibly make him feel better about being such a Scrooge. About not being able to get into Christmas anymore. But before he could figure it out, he fell asleep. He woke to music. He never knew if it was a few minutes, or a few hours later, but when he opened his eyes, Ben was sitting at the other end of the couch, quietly strumming a guitar. Ray was surprised. He hadn't even known Ben could play. He'd never mentioned it.... But there didn't seem to be much of anything the Mountie couldn't do. He'd gotten used to that now. As far as Ray could tell, Ben wasn't playing a song. Just soft notes that seemed to flow together somehow anyway. Dief was curled up on the floor nearby, watching him for all the world as if he were enjoying the music, too. "Pretty," Ray said, meaning it. Ben looked up and smiled. "This is what I wanted to give you, Ray. Your first present, on Christmas Eve. Well, actually, it's later than that now. It's actually early Christmas morning, but --" Ray shrugged. "It's still dark out. What's the dif?" He even managed a smile. Somehow, the bit of sleep he'd gotten had done him good. His head, and his heart, didn't feel quite as heavy anymore. Or maybe it was the music.... "Okay then. Here it is," Ben said, ducking his head a little shyly. "I learned this song for you, Ray." He played some gentle, plaintive-sounding chords, then he began to sing softly: I walked out on Christmas Eve, To see the city lights. Up and down the avenue, I marveled at the sights. Flung out diamonds, strung out pearls Shimmered in the cold, While dark skyscrapers stood their watch On windows dressed with gold. And like a Wiseman chasing stars, I looked for a child. The one asleep inside of me, Whom Christmas once beguiled. Through the falling snow I tracked A fading memory. Until, decked out in ragged clothes, An angel came to me. She smiled and said, "The one you've lost Is easy to retrieve. All you need To bring him home Is something to believe." Then a thousand bells rang out, Announcing Christmas morn. And at that moment I did feel The child in me reborn. So fill your heart with love tonight, And wear it on your sleeve; For all good things are possible, Upon a Christmas Eve. For all good things are possible Upon a Christmas Eve. Ben fingered the last chord, then stopped playing. But the song seemed to go on, its sweet melody hanging in the air, sounding in Ray's heart. He stared at his lover in awe. How had Ben figured out what was wrong with him? He hadn't known how to tell him -- but still, Ben had somehow known. And with that song, he'd somehow fixed it. Helped him find his way back to what Christmas was all about again. Suddenly, he remembered the smell of his mom's Christmas cookies. It mingled in his mind with the fresh, here-and-now scent of the pine tree Fraser had placed in the corner. Ray's eyes were shining, and his tiredness had vanished. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, like he was six years old again -- only better. Luckier. It didn't matter so much, now, that he hadn't gotten Ben's Christmas gift yet. Ben had helped him remember something he'd almost forgotten, something that had gotten buried under the weight of years: that Christmas wasn't just about things that came in brightly wrapped packages. Christmas was about other things, too. Like the warmth in Ben's gorgeous blue eyes, that had always meant home to him. Ray felt a surge of joy, of love, so strong that he got tears in his own eyes for the second time that night. "Come mere," he said softly. When Ben put down his guitar and moved over beside him, Ray took him in his arms and laid back down on the couch. "I loved dat," he whispered, holding Ben against his heart. He kissed the top of his dark head tenderly. "It was beautiful. Best Christmas present anyone's ever given me. Toldja lately that I love you?" He felt Ben smile. "Not tonight, Ray." "Well, I do. And ... thank you. For the song, and the reminder." "You're welcome, Ray," Ben said. "I'm glad you liked it." And the happiness in his voice told Kowalski that maybe he hadn't really come home with empty pockets after all. That maybe what he'd just said meant more to Ben than anything you could wrap Christmas paper around. So maybe it wasn't so bad, that he hadn't brought something home from the store for him. *Yet, anyway. There's always tomorrow....* Ben wrapped his arms around him too, and for a few minutes, they just lay together in a warm, contented silence, with Ben's dark head pillowed on Ray's chest. Both of them were still thinking of the words in the song. *'All good things',* Ray thought. *I got dat. Got everything in the world I need, right here.* Cuz when he held Ben like this, the pimps and the pushers and the junkies were a million miles away. Somewhere outside of his happy world. All that was real was the man in his arms. The best Christmas gift anyone could ever ask for. *'Until decked out in ragged clothes, an angel came to me.' An apt description of Ray Kowalski,* Ben thought fondly, holding Ray gently in his arms. He marveled, as he always had, that in the midst of this huge, turbulent, often dangerous city, fate had led him to this good, loving, generous man: to his very own blond angel. He didn't need presents to make him happy. He'd already been given all that any man could possibly want. Then Ray smiled. "See dat?" he asked. "See what?" "The big red thing on my sleeve," Ray answered, holding his right arm up in front of Ben's puzzled eyes. "I don't --" "Give ya a hint: it's a muscle, it's red, and it beats about 80 times a minute," Ray told him. "Got it pinned to my sleeve. It's my first Christmas Eve present for you." "Ahh," Ben said. A quiet smile spread across his lips, as understanding dawned. "Yes. I see it now. It's your heart, isn't it, Ray?" "Yeah. I'm wearin' it there for you. Just like in the song. And wouldja lookit that: it's Mountie red," he said, smiling like the boy he'd once been. That he still was, when he was with Fraser. Ben looked down at him tenderly. "I love you, Ray," he said softly. And in his beautiful blue eyes, Kowalski saw all the Christmas magic he could ever want. "Love you, too. Merry Christmas, Ben," he said, as Ben bent his head to kiss him. "Merry Christmas, my love," Ben whispered against his mouth. --------------------------------------------THE END------------------------------------ email the author: Ardrian15@aol.com (Caroline Alert)