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He'd sent his Mom the usual sweater-and-a-fruitcake thing, still not believing after all these years that she really ate fruitcake. Or, wore the sweaters. No return package yet but he knew it would show up today.

That left a lonely looking space under the Christmas tree, so Ray had gone out and bought another gift. Pretending to himself that he wasn't really shopping--but he'd been through nine different stores before he'd found just the right thing to give to...someone.

Okay. It's for Fraser, okay? What's wrong with that? He's my partner. Partners can exchange gifts, right? Nothing weird about that. Ray plugged in the string of lights, hoping the glow would make the apartment look more festive. Less empty.

The other guy probably bought his partner a Christmas present. The other guy, that was how Ray thought of him. He'd had Fraser for a partner, but he was gone and now Fraser was his. His partner, anyhow. His, mine, that Ray, this Ray, Vecchio, Kowalski, him, me. It got confusing. The Real Ray Vecchio was gone. The new Ray Vecchio was here, filling in his shoes. Am I live, or am I Memorex?

Another drink would be good. There was eggnog chilling in refrigerator for later. Ray was passing the time until 'later' by drinking the rest of the whiskey. A Christmas tradition, but somehow this particular tradition had been a lot more fun when he'd shared it with someone else.

Someone else...like a wife. Before she'd decided to be ex, anyhow. Talk about leaving a lonely gap....

Okay, knock it off, Ray ordered himself. You're going to get sloppy.

Holidays sucked. If you told anyone you were alone, you wound up in the middle of someone else's celebration. There you were, surrounded by hordes of squealing kids you'd never seen before and weren't ever going to see again, eating turkey elbow-to-elbow with Uncle Fred and watching him fish his false teeth out of his plate every two minutes. Big thrill.

If you didn't tell anyone you were alone, you wound up...alone.

Holidays sucked.

There was a heavy thumping sound at the door, then a determined knock. Ray took himself and his holiday cheer over to open the door. It was the building manager, Mrs. Whatever-her-name-was. Just who he wanted to see.

She looked at his half-empty glass suspiciously. "Mr. Vecchio?"

"Yeah." Ray wasn't in the mood for complaints about hot water or loud music.

"Mr. Vecchio, are you expecting a package for a Stanley Kowalski?"

Good old Mom. He'd reminded her that he was living undercover, but the words hadn't stayed with her. "Actually, yeah, I am."

"Mr. Vecchio." The repetition of that name was starting to get on his nerves. "Stanley Kowalski is a character in a movie."

"A book, actually," Ray corrected automatically. "And a play."

"Why are you getting packages for a character in a movie, Mr. Vecchio?" Her arms were wrapped firmly around the brown cardboard box like she wasn't going to let go until he told her what was in it.

Jeez, if she hadn't known he was a cop, she probably woulda called the bomb squad on him by now. "It's a joke, okay? From a friend?"

"I don't like weirdness, Mr. Vecchio." She glared at him. "This is a nice, peaceful building."

"There's no weirdness, okay? Just a joke. Can I have my package?"

She handed over the box reluctantly. "I have more to do than signing for boxes for imaginary people, you know."

"Yeah? Like what?" Ray was just in the mood for an argument. "Cause it ain't nothing like cleaning the place up or fixing the broken lights out front, that's for sure."

"We have a cleaning staff and an electrician to handle those duties, Mr. Vecchio."

"Then go call them and tell them to do it, right?"

"It's the holidays, Mr. Vecchio," she told him, as though anyone could forget it. "The staff have the day off.

The staff. The way she said it, you'd think this crummy building had twenty people working in it, instead of one tired janitor and a drunk who was supposed to handle the maintenance. "Listen, why are we having this conversation, huh? Cause I got better things to do myself, okay?"

"You're lucky I signed for the package," she said. "I don't usually accept packages for imaginary people. If I hadn't remembered that you were a police officer, I wouldn't have accepted it."

"Look, I appreciate it, okay?" Ray had had enough of her. "Happy holidays and stuff. Now goodbye." He closed the door, just short of a slam.

Well, that was smooth. He usually got along well with his landlady, but after that little go-around, he'd probably get an eviction notice on the first.

But he could worry about that when it happened. Right now, he had a box to open.

Good old Mom, he thought again, piling the four small packages under the tree. She made it every year...the box arrived on Christmas Eve, regular as clockwork.

Now he had something new to stare at. So, he did, while he emptied his glass and had another drink. Eventually he picked up the phone and dialed a number, listening to it ring on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Mrs....uh...This is Ray. Ray...Vecchio."

"Yes, Mr. Vecchio?" Not a friendly voice.

"Listen," Ray said with determination. "I'm sorry about the way I talked to you when you brought up the package, okay? I'm just...I was...I shouldn't have been so rude."

There was a short pause. "I understand." Much friendlier now. "It's difficult to be alone at the holidays, I know."

"Yeah, well, I still shouldn't of been rude." In the back of his head, Ray could see his mother smiling her approval. "I really appreciate you bringing the package up. I mean, signing for it and everything."

"That's quite all right, Mr. Vecchio. It was my pleasure."

"Okay, well, Merry Christmas, you know?"

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Vecchio."

Ray hung up the phone in relief. Okay, that problem solved. It's A Wonderful Life was going to start in fifteen minutes, so he had fifteen minutes to decide whether to have another glass of whiskey, or start in on the eggnog and pretend he was celebrating, instead of just getting drunk.

In the end, he fixed himself a sandwich and ate it, then had eggnog. Sitting around alone getting sloppy drunk during the holidays was just too much of a cliché.

He got in to the movie, the same way he always did. Jimmy Stewart did a great job, but Clarence was the one who made the movie for Ray. When he'd been a kid, Ray had totally believed in Clarence, the way other kids believed in the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny. Or, Tinkerbell.

The room darkened around him, lit only by the flickers from the television and the comforting glow of lights from the small tree. On-screen, Clarence was watching Jimmy Stewart's face as Jimmy watched what his friends and neighbors lives would have been without him. Personally, Ray woulda busted the money-grubbing rich guy in the chops, but Jimmy wasn't that radical.

He wasn't sure how often the soft knock at the door was repeated before he finally realized what he was hearing. He'd gotten Mom's package and wasn't expecting anything else.

Ray went to answer the door, hoping like hell it it wasn't the landlady offering to share Christmas Eve with him.

"Good evening, Ray."

Whaddya know and speaking of the devil. "Hey. Fraser. What's up?"

"I was...in the neighborhood," Fraser said carefully. "And I thought I'd stop by and wish you happy holidays."

In the neighborhood? Fraser didn't own a car, and the Consulate was miles from Ray's apartment. "S'there a problem?"

"Not at all." Fraser wavered, then stepped back. "Well...."

"Hey, no," Ray said quickly. "You doin anything tonight?"

"Actually, no. We don't have any specific plans."

We? Oh, yeah. The wolf. "You...uh...wanna come in for a while? I got ice-cold eggnog."

Fraser smiled at him. "I'd like that, thank you."

"Okay, c'mon in." Ray stepped back. "Where's the wolf?"

"Diefenbaker." Fraser looked down the hallway at something Ray couldn't see. "If you're quite through?"

A moment later the wolf trotted past him and into Ray's apartment like it owned the place. Ray shook his head and closed the door after Fraser. "What was he doin?"

"Sulking," Fraser said regretfully. "I believe he had his own friends he wanted to spend the evening with. Perhaps I should just ignore him."

"Oh." Ray thought about it. "Hey, Dief. I'm really glad you stopped by, okay? Make yourself at home."

The wolf gave him a look, then curled up next to the tree and pretended to go to sleep. Some day, Ray was going to sit down and worry about whether the wolf was as smart as Fraser thought it was, or if Fraser was as crazy as he seemed to be when he talked to it.

"I'm sorry." Fraser was looking at the television. "Are we interrupting?"

"No, no," Ray said quickly. "C'mon in. Have a seat. You want some eggnog or something? I don't think I got any bark tea or anything."

"A small glass of eggnog would be very welcome."

"No whiskey, right?"

"If you please." Fraser perched on the edge of the couch, still wearing his coat and holding his hat.

"Hey, you can hang that stuff up if you want. You know. Stay a while." Ray hurried to the kitchen to get the eggnog. It was amazing what a difference one other person made to the lonely feel of the apartment. Well, one person and a wolf, anyhow.

"Thank you." Fraser stood back up. "It is very warm in here." He hung his coat up in the small closet, laying his hat on a nearby table.

When Ray brought him the eggnog, Fraser was holding a small, brightly wrapped package. "What's that?"

"Oh." Fraser looked at it for a moment as though he'd never seen it before. "It's a gift. For you, actually."

"Yeah?" Ray couldn't hide his smile. "For me?"

"I know we didn't discuss it, but it is customary at this time of the year to make or to purchase small gifts to...."

"Hey, it's okay," Ray interrupted. He dove under the tree and found the gift he'd bought for Fraser. "Actually, I kinda got something for you, too."

Fraser took his gift. "Thank you, Ray."

"Have a seat," Ray said eagerly. "You wanna go ahead and open 'em now?"

Fraser sat down and looked at him, a smile lighting his face slowly. "If you'd like."

"Absolutely." Ray reached for his glass. "Hey, let's have a toast, first, okay?" Ray searched his brain but couldn't think of just the right thing to say.

Fraser lifted his glass. "To friendship. Merry Christmas, Ray."

Ray smiled at him and touched the edge of his glass to Fraser's. "To friendship. Merry Christmas. Partner."

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