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)