Twelve Days of Christmas CSI:NY
Spoilers up to and including to Season 4: "Child's Play."
A/N: According to most established churches, the 'twelve days of Christmas' are actually the days between the birth of Jesus on December 25th and the arrival of the Magi on January 6th. Here is my take on those twelve days for the characters of CSI:NY, with a brief nod to some of the traditional church and cultural events that take place at that time.
Disclaimer: The characters and the show CSI:NY are the intellectual property of their creators and CBS TV.
On the first day of Christmas: Dec 25
Christmas Midnight Mass
"O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining!"
The small boy's voice soared through the stone cathedral like larksong in the morning. Although the church was filled to capacity, no one made a sound as the beautiful carol wound its way through the sanctuary. When the choir joined in, the congregation was hard put not to simply follow its instructions.
"Fall on your knees!"
Don Flack Jr. sat at the back of the church, mouthing the words. It had been years since he had been able to hit those high notes, but when it had been him singing that solo, he had felt connected to something far bigger than himself, far bigger than even the church.
It had been years since he felt like that, too.
"Sorry I'm late, Don." A breath wafted across his cheek. Green eyes, apologetic and a little teasing.
He turned to smile at the woman who slipped in beside him on the already crowded pew. Grumbling a little, the rest of the people moved to make room for her, but even then Stella was pressed the length of Don's side, sitting a little forward on the pew so that she could fit between him and the armrest. The heat of her filled him, the press of her breast against his arm branding him.
He closed his eyes, the scent of her hair curling over his shoulder, wrapping around him, filling his senses. If he moved just a little, he could put his arm around her, and everyone would have an inch more space. But he didn't dare, trying instead to avoid invading her space.
Like peanuts, he thought, exhaustion washing over him. Take one, and the floodgates opened. There was no stopping after that. He was afraid to taste, in case even gorging would leave him empty.
She sat quietly beside him, sharing his hymnbook and breviary, making all the right responses. Of course, she was a Catholic girl too, raised by nuns and accustomed to the rhythms of the service. She had a nice voice, he noticed: a rich warm mezzo-soprano, a little breathy, which sent shivers down his spine. How pathetic was he, he thought, that he was getting turned on by someone singing "Joy to the World!"?
He'd really like to hear her singing the "Hallelujah Chorus." Preferably with his name gasped into the silences like a profane prayer.
He shut his eyes and shook and burned in his private hell.
"Glories stream from Heaven afar. Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia. Christ the Saviour is born."
