Once Upon a Houston Christmas
By Starwinder

"AAAGGGGHHHHH!" Detective Sergeant Joe LaFiamma of Houston PD's Major Crime Unit yanked the light jacket he wore over his guns off and slung it across the open front room of his apartment. It landed half-on, half-off his breakfast bar, one sleeve trailing on the floor.

"I hate Houston!" He yelled, as he slid out of his shoulder holsters and carefully hung the twin automatics on his coat tree. Even as pissed off as he was he'd never mistreat his weapons.

Still he felt the need to break something... anything. He stalked past the bookshelves that filled one wall of the combination living room-dining area of the apartment and grabbed a ceramic figurine and slung *it* at the far wall. It shattered with a satisfying *crash*... a very satisfying crash. It'd been a long time since he'd given in to his urge to smash something.

He grabbed another figurine and slung it, yelling, "I hate the heat!"

*Smash!*

"I hate the rain!"

*Crash!*

"I hate that damn Cowboy!"

*Smash! Crash! Bammm!*

"I wish I'd never left Chicago!" He sank down to the floor and sat tears beginning to run down his face.

"Is that a fact?" A seriously annoyed voice demanded.

Joe's head snapped up and he stared openmouthed at the apparition that glared down at him. It appeared to be a teenage boy... maybe fifteen or sixteen, with long blonde hair and green eyes. It... he was dressed all in white... at least what had once been white... white shirt, white pants... a long white duster with what looked like bullet holes in it and bedraggled wings sticking out through the back. Hanging somewhat crookedly over his head was a badly dented pale gold ring.

"Yeah! That's a fact." He snapped then snarled, "Who the hell are you and how'd you get in here?"

"I'm Seymour... your guardian angel." The apparition replied in a 'I'm still seriously pissed at you' voice.

Joe suddenly chuckled, "You... you're my guardian angel? No wonder I'm in trouble here!"

Seymour glared at him and reached up to adjust his seriously dented halo. "Keeping you safe is *not* an easy job!" He snarled right back at Joe.

"The last guy quit! Handed in his resignation from the Guardian Angel Brigade because you're so damn much trouble! I've only been assigned to you for three months and already I've had my wings singed, my halo damn near broken and I've got *bullet holes* all in my *best* duster! And you're sitting there wallowing in self-pity, moaning, 'I wish I'd never left Chicago'! AAAGGGHHHHH! Don't you know, if you'd stayed in Chicago you'd be dead now!"

"So what? Maybe I'd be better off! I ain't like I'm making a difference here!"

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yeah!"

"Fine! Have it your way! You stayed in Chicago! You don't exist here!" Seymour raised his hands and made a gesture in the air, then dropped them back to his sides, "There!"

Suddenly loud Christmas music filled the room and people, milled around, laughing, talking, having a party.

Joe jumped up and turned around staring at all the people, "What in hell are all these people doing in my apartment!?"

"I told you. You don't exist here! You *stayed* in Chicago. You're *dead*! This is *his* (He pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man wearing a huge grin.) apartment! This is his party. Let's go!"

"Go...? Go where?"

"To show you that you have made a difference." Seymour replied patiently as if explaining to a young child. He shook his head as Joe began carefully picking his way through the crowd.

"Oh, for crying out loud! They can't see you or hear you or feel you!" He snapped and grabbing Joe's arm yanked him through a couple of people and dragged him out through the closed door of the apartment.

"Wait! Whoa! Jeezus!" Joe grumbled in shock. Stumbling to a stop outside the door he pulled loose from Seymour and stood there running his hands over his chest in dismay. He turned back towards the door. It was still closed.

"We... uh..." He gestured to the door.

"Yeah... we came through it." Seymour reached back and took his arm. "Close your eyes."

"What? Why?"

"Because you aren't ready to see how we get where we're going! Close'm or I'll blindfold you!"

Joe stared at him a long moment. "O.... kay." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Something told him that Seymour just might blindfold him, if he didn't do as he was told.

He felt Seymour take a firmer grip on his arm then he felt an icy wind whip around him. It felt like it picked him up but he swallowed hard and kept his eyes tightly closed.

After a minute or two the wind died down and he felt solid ground beneath his feet again.

"You can open your eyes now."

He did so and blinked at Seymour then looked around. A sign hung nearby. Old South Trailer Park. A short distance away he could see the silver trailer that Lundy had been staying in when Joe had first came down to Houston... before his partner had moved back into his house.

"What are we doing here?"

"We're here to see how your partner is spending Christmas Eve." Seymour said quietly.

"No... Lundy doesn't live here anymore... he moved back into his house."

"Oh, yes. He would have... if you had come to Houston... but you didn't. You stayed in Chicago and got killed." Seymour replied sweetly. Then turned and walked up to the trailer and in through the closed door.

Joe gulped and followed, pausing at the door.

Seymour reached back and pulled him through it with a sigh. "I know it takes some getting used to... but in this state you *can't* open the doors! You *have* to just walk through them!"

Joe nodded and followed him along the narrow center isle of the trailer to the tiny back bedroom.

Lundy lay sprawled across the bed still dressed, right down to his cowboy boots. His hat lay on the floor beside the bed, brim down, amongst a sea of discarded whiskey bottles. He clutched a half-empty bottle to him in his sleep. His face contorted and he cried out as he dreamed. "Caro! Oh, God! Caroline!"

He moaned and thrashed in the grasp of the dream.

Joe moved forward, squatting beside the bed, reaching out to try and soothe his partner, "Lundy! Hey, Cowboy... wake up."

"He can't hear you."

Joe turned stricken eyes to Seymour. "Why's he here? Why isn't he home?"

"He is home. In this reality, this is where he is now..." He looked down at Joe. "The only difference between this reality and the other one... is that you never came to Houston. You've helped him get over his feelings of guilt about his wife's death... without even knowing you were doing it. You push him. He pushes back and in pushing back, grows stronger, more able to deal with not only you but everything in his life."

Joe turned back to look at the cowboy then after a moment stood straightening and turning to look at Seymour. "I suppose there's more."

"Yes. There's more." Seymour held out his hand. "Eyes."

Joe nodded and closed his eyes. The icy wind wrapped itself around him, picking him up again. A few minutes later he felt ground beneath his feet again and opened his eyes.

He almost wished he'd kept them shut. He was standing on the walkway between two rows of prison cells. He looked into the cell they were facing and his eyes went wide, "Esteban!"

Esteban Guiterrez sat alone in the cell. A small paper Christmas tree, hand made and hand colored stood on the lone table in the cell. A couple of pictures were taped to the wall behind it. He was reading a well-worn letter.

He turned to Seymour, "What happened?"

"Lester Farnham will never beat another girl to death... but soon your friend Esteban will pay for making sure of that. He shot Farnham dead on the courthouse steps in front of a dozen witnesses."

"But... we...." Joe began to protest weakly.

"No. You did not. You were not here. You stayed in Chicago. You died there. Lundy never moved to the Major Crime Unit. He never met Esteban. The two of you never took Farnham to the border and handed him over to Esteban there. Esteban tracked the pimp here. Found out that Farnham was the one that killed his friend's daughter and killed him. He was caught, tried, convicted and sentenced to death."

"All right. You've proven your point. Can we go back now?"

"Not yet. There is one more person I want you to see... you haven't met her yet but your not being here now makes a difference for her too." He took Joe's hand. "This is a long trip. Try to keep your eyes closed."

Joe nodded and gripped Seymour's hand firmly as he shut his eyes tightly. The wind was even colder this time and stronger. They seemed to be held in its grasp forever before Joe felt solid ground under his feet again. He stood shivering and waited for Seymour to tell him to open his eyes.

"Okay." Seymour's voice was quiet.

Joe opened his eyes and looked around. They were in what appeared to be a small town, standing in front of an old, wood-frame house. The porch light was on.

Seymour led the way into the house, down the hall and into a sitting room.

An old woman sat there, beside the phone.

As they watched she looked up at the grandfather clock standing in one corner and sighed. It was almost midnight. She stood and walked forlornly out of the room, stopping to turn off the lights on the small, dismal-looking, artificial Christmas tree that stood on a table beside the door.

They watched her slowly make her way down the hall and into a small bedroom.

Joe turned to Seymour, "Who is she?"

"Lundy's grandmother." The angel turned to look at Joe, "She was waiting for a call from Levon. He won't call... not tonight... not ever again. Not in this reality."

Joe felt a shiver go through him at the angel's words. He blinked back tears.

He could hear Lundy's voice, in the Jimmy as he had driven Joe to the apartment, going over the list of things he still had to do that night so he could work the next day. 'I gotta call my gran'ma. Wish her a Merry Christmas. See if she got the package I mailed her....' And his own voice snapping back at Lundy to just shut up that he didn't want to hear it... it wasn't Christmas to him. It was hot and wet and miserable and he might as well be a million miles from home...

Seymour reached out and pulled him into a hug as the tears broke loose.

Joe sobbed in the angel's arms for a long time then slowly tapered off.

Seymour stroked his hair. "It doesn't have to be this way..." he said softly. "You can make it right... if you want to."

Joe drew back wiping at his eyes. "Take me back... please. I want to be alive... in Houston. I want things to be the way they were before I said that I wished I hadn't left Chicago'... Please?"

"Close your eyes."

*************************************************

Joe opened his eyes and stared around his apartment. He was sitting on the floor near his bookcases. The place was a mess. His jacket lay half-on, half-off the breakfast bar, one sleeve trailing on the floor. Along the opposite wall the remains of several pieces of ceramic lay scattered on the floor. There was a large dent in the wallboard where the heaviest of the pieces had hit.

He sighed and got up. He looked around the apartment again, "Seymour?" He called quietly. "Are you still here?"

He shook his head. It had to have been some weird kind of hallucination. People didn't actually have guardian angels assigned to them... did they? On the other hand he was Catholic and *did* believe in angels... but Seymour?

Seymour had seemed a very unlikely angel. Bad tempered, cross, petulant... he'd even sworn...

Joe snorted as he went to get a dustpan and broom to clean up the smashed figurines. He could almost hear Lundy now, 'Serves you right to get a guardian angel as obnoxious as you are!'

Come to think of it Seymour had sounded remarkably like Joe... like a tough street kid from the south side of Chicago.

Joe cleaned up the apartment on autopilot. His mind was on the vision... dream... hallucination... whatever it had been. Maybe Seymour had just been a fragment of himself, making him take a hard look at his attitude since he's been in Houston.

What if... what if this was what was meant to be? What if he was meant to be in Houston... meant to be Lundy's partner... meant to save Esteban from himself... meant to be separated from his family.... He thought about that a moment. In Chicago he's always been afraid... afraid that sooner or later he would find himself looking at a family member... someone that he loved... across the barrel of a gun. Here... the odds were a lot better that he would never have to do that.

Maybe it was time to accept that Houston was his home now... accept that Lundy was his partner... that this was where he belonged.

He glanced at the clock. It was still early yet, only six o'clock. There would still be a lot of stores open.

He grabbed up his lightweight jacket and threw it on. A moment later he had called a cab and was out the door bouncing down the stairs to stand outside in the mild evening air to wait for it.

*************************************************

Lundy trotted up the steps to his partner's apartment and pounded on the door. He could smell the delicious odors of roasted turkey with sage dressing drifting out from somewhere. He supposed that one of Joe's neighbors was fixing Christmas dinner. Joe certainly hadn't seemed interested in doing anything for Christmas.

Joe's voice called from inside the apartment. "It's open! Come on in and give me a hand with this!"

Lundy shoved open the door and stopped dead still, his mouth dropping open.

A large Christmas tree took up one corner of Joe's living room... a live tree. It was decorated with gold lame ribbons and red velvet bows. Tiny clear lights twinkled all over it. A ratty looking angel sat jauntily on top of the tree. She looked like someone had tried to pull her hair out and her white dress was no longer white. Her wings looked a bit bedraggled and her halo was badly bent.

On the counter sat a platter with a huge stuffed turkey. Joe had a large box sitting next to it on the counter and was packing it with foil wrapped bowls and pans. He put a bunch of large serving spoons in the box and carefully closed it.

"Take this down to the car for me. Will you?" He said to Lundy as he picked up another box and began to move the turkey off the counter and into it.

Lundy blinked and shook his head, "Thought you weren't celebrating this year."

"Changed my mind!" Joe replied cheerfully. "When you get that in the Jimmy, come back and help me with the presents."

"Presents?"

"Yeah, presents!"

Lundy picked up the box and headed down to the Jimmy, grinning.

Four trips later he looked over at Joe as the Chicagoan climbed into the vehicle. "You sure that ya got everything, now? Cranberry sauce? Dinner rolls? Green bean casserole?"

Joe looked at him, suddenly disconcerted, "Green bean? I made a squash casserole! Was it supposed to be green bean?"

Lundy chuckled, "Reckon squash'll do... but *we* always had green bean."

Joe shook his head and shot him a look that said he'd caught the teasing note in Lundy's voice.

Lundy just chuckled again as he put the Jimmy in gear and headed for Reisner.

*************************************************

It was almost midnight when Levon parked the Jimmy in front of Joe's apartment building and climbed out to help him carry the boxes of dirty dishes up the stairs to the apartment. Now that all the bowls and platters were empty there were only two boxes. Joe's presents, there were only a few, lay in the top of one of the boxes separated from the dishes by a layer of aluminum foil.

As he sat his box down on the counter Joe called back to Lundy, "You want a night cap, Cowboy?"

"What ya got?"

"Eggnog?" Joe asked, "Or beer?"

Lundy grinned, "Reckon Eggnog'll do me for tonight." He dropped onto the couch, stretching his long legs out to rest them on the coffee table and studied the Christmas tree, "How long ya had that angel? She looks a mite bedraggled."

Joe brought the eggnog and sat down on the couch next to Levon, handing him one glass. "I bought it last night...."

"Musta been the last one they had."

Joe grinned and leaned back on the couch sipping his eggnog, "Nope. They had plenty left... and it's not a she... it's a he. His name's Seymour."

"Seymour?"

"Uh-huh...." [He's a very special angel... who *sees more* than most people do.]

Lundy sipped at his eggnog and looked over at his partner, noting the little secretive smile that graced his lips. [There's a story there... I'll have to see if I can get him to tell it to me sometime.]

He reached over and clinked his glass against Joe's. "To Seymour. May he *see more* Merry Christmases and Happy New Years."

Joe grinned and clinked his glass against Levon's "Amen."

The partner's sat in companionable silence watching the lights twinkle on the tree as the clock on the wall quietly ticked past midnight and into the day after Christmas.

The End