Merry Christmas Mr Callen
(The Christmas Party)
Deeks: What's your plan for tomorrow?
Callen: Get up and have breakfast. Rest, read a book, then have lunch and visit Sam. Go home have a nap. Get up, have dinner and then go back to bed.
Deeks: So action packed day.
Callen: Yep
Callen's attention was focused on the fire engine that blocked the road. He had two options, reversing then driving around the block or parking and walking. He was five houses from home. Callen grabbed an empty space to park, locked the car and started walking.
'Not my house, thought Callen.
He walked past people gathered in little huddles, drawn to the excitement. The chilly night hadn't deterred many. Callen recognized a few nodding neighbourhood acquaintances.
He paused as two firemen walked down the drive carrying fire extinguishers no longer required. Just another call out.
Callen scanned the crowd from habit, looking for someone or something out of the ordinary. The flashing light destroyed his night vision but nothing drew his attention or tickled his sense of danger. But Callen wasn't at his peak mentally. Not after Hetty's Christmas nibbles and drinks. Not drunk but not completely sober either.
Accidents happen he thought. Even in my quite neighbourhood.
He felt the tension in his shoulders and neck. It had been a long day, hell a long week to get cases cleared before Christmas. Who cared except Hetty? It was all a numbers game of cases cleared in a given year, within time and on budget. The files would just sit on some JAG's desk, probably unseen until well into the New Year.
The Wade and Ruth clutched each other in the flickering red light. A third person with a clipboard went through the motions, collected a signature then walked away after handing a copy to Wade.
Did they need help? Maybe he should cross the road and speak to them and offer comfort? It was Xmas eve and Callen really didn't feel like finding solutions to any more problems. The house was standing and no one had been taken away by ambulance or funeral director. Everything else could wait until morning.
"Come on folks," called the cop, "back to bed, excitement over for the night." People began to disperse with a final look over their shoulders.
"Does this mean Santa isn't coming?" a child's tired voice echoed across the quite.
Callen glanced to the left and spotted the Harpers. Dad worked in a bank, mum a part time secretary at the accountants on Vine. Three kids, second marriage and they changed their car to a blue Honda six weeks ago.
"Sshh," the child was picked up and carried, "no silly, this just means Santa can't come until you are asleep in bed." The family walked away.
Callen could not remember ever being that innocent, that trusting. He remembered Santa had died a painful death his first Christmas in a group home. He remembered the good days and the bad days until Christmas finally become just another day.
The fire engine switched off its lights, then pulled away from the curb in a slow experienced manner. The policeman checked the neighbourhood was returning to its original sleepy state then headed for his car, already focused on the next call out.
A few people stayed on the sidewalk watching the last moments of the drama.
"What happened," Callen said to a man standing nearby. Mr Hong, new immigrant, previously lived in a down town apartment, wife unemployed, no visitors, car green.
"Don't know. Someone said they came home from church and found the house on fire. She probably left a candle burning." He shrugged. "It happens a lot this time of year."
Mr Hong moved away leaving Callen alone. He stared at the house but the darkness and trees hid any hint of damage. Not even the smell of smoke. It was too late to offer comfort the driveway was now empty. He was no good at it anyway.
Tomorrow, thought Callen as he collected his car. Tomorrow I'll say sorry, offer sympathy and ask some questions. Maybe check the fire investigators report. In his experience, arson was a great cover for murder.
Callen's house was bare of blinking lights inside and out, of Christmas decorations and a general feeling of ho, ho, ho. If Santa turned up he was likely to get shot on the spot and wouldn't that just ruin the lives of the kids on the block.
Callen carried two bags to the kitchen and placed them on the bench. A careful check confirmed no intruder had disturbed the house during his absence. Back in the kitchen he made himself a cup of coffee and examined his gifts.
One bag held two towels, a bottle of whisky, gift vouchers, chocolates, and a pottery bowl. A couple of DVD's, more chocolate, a framed picture of a goat and some fruit preserves were removed from the second bag. He divided his pile into eatable, usable and the useless.
Callen took a sip of his coffee and watched the hands of the clock slip past twelve officially making it Christmas Day.
Christmas Eve was Callen's favourite day of the year and now it was over. There was the party, the gifts and the excitement of something special to come. People were generally happy. But Christmas day never lived up to expectations. In Callen's life the day normally ended in agreements, tears and disappointment.
"Merry Christmas everybody," he called aloud. The words got absorbed by the silent emptiness of the house.
He finished his coffee. A look in the fridge revealed nothing that tugged the attention of his stomach. Callen considered the chocolates and whiskey but rejected the idea. He was the backup to the emergency phone when someone ended up dead in the next 24 hours. The only reason he wasn't primary contact was Clyde wanted the extra leave in the New Year to be with his kids. Hetty had put her foot down, Callen had taken the emergency phone three years running and the responsibility had to be spread around.
Callen tried to remember how much he had drunk. The chances of being called out were slim but Hetty would be pissed if he lost his licence in a random breath test. Sods law. So, no whiskey until later.
This year he had purchased seven work gifts, eight boxes of chocolates, four supermarket vouchers and a personal gift each for Sam, Quinn and Emma. The last three gifts, wrapped in blue reindeer paper, sat on the side table ready for delivery to the Hanna family. Callen never worked out how Sam managed to get two gifts, the work one and the private one, when he only got one in return.
Only three left, everything else had been given out with hugs and smiles. The false Christmas cheer made easier with alcohol. Callen didn't need Nate to tell him he had a problem with the receiving of gifts and not the giving. He put it down to too much do false charity in his young life.
But honestly he didn't get the goat. Deeks had placed the gift in his hand, muttered something before Kenzie hit him with a water pistol and they both took off running. Callen wondered if it was some type of gag gift only he didn't get the joke. Maybe the picture was just a picture. Still overall not a bad haul.
The fire left Callen feeling restless. The two houses were close but accidents rarely happened in Callen's experience. Maybe the only accident was the wrong house. His previous solution to any problem was to pack up moved hotels. Kind of hard at 1.00 am on Christmas morning. The inns were closed and the hotels full. That left the beach or Sam's. But Sam had his own family and the beach was a temptation Callen was trying hard to break. He knew the party spots in town where the action hummed 24/7 but he honestly didn't need the company.
The coffee was hot, the room silent. No merry Christmas, no one asking about his holiday plans and no one discussing gifts and shopping. And best of all no one singing. Callen could finally sit down and relax. Within twenty four hours the whole holiday would be over for another year and things would get back to normal.
A glance out the windows revealed everything was quiet. Even the Santa and his reindeer across the street had been turned off for the night. Everyone with any sense was tucked up in bed asleep.
Christmas was just another day and Callen had seventy two hours off rotation. With a sigh he picked up a DVD, slid it into the hard drive and waited for the opening scene from Star Wars to light up the screen.
At the sound of the ring tone Callen reached over and grabbed the phone. "Hello?" Nothing, just the dial tone, Callen frowned. Not the phone then he thought, a quick check of his cell phone showed a lack of any emergency summons into work. A couple of drunken merry Christmas's were deleted with a smile. The door bell rang again catching his attention.
Callen's hand automatically slid under the pillow and touched the gun. Reassured, he slid out of bed and put on some jeans. Normally he would have been up but Christmas Day was late to bed and late to rise. Truth be told, Star Wars had gripped his attention longer than he thought possible.
His colleges knew to phone before turning up on his door step unless it was beyond urgent.
He picked up the newly cleaned gun and slid it into his waistband. He felt more dressed with the gun than a shirt. Just because the son of God was born today didn't mean the Grimm reaper had a holiday.
A quick peek thru the curtain showed a man standing at the door and some woman lurking near the street. Callen recognised Ruth, Wade's partner, which probably made Wade the one standing at the door. Undecided about their strange behaviour he put on his happy face and opened the door with care. He kept the gun in his hand out of sight and the chain on. It was no use scaring the neighbours.
"Hi, there has been an accident. Can we use your kitchen?"