The first Christmas I'm able to remember is from a long time ago. One of the few memories I have left of my family being together.

I was sitting by the tree in mom's lap while dad reached underneath for the presents that Santa had left for me.

I don't remember much of it, just bits and pieces.

Mom and dad got in a fight, so I took my gifts and retreated to my room. I don't recall what they were. I just remember that they were nothing significant. I only wanted one thing and that was something I couldn't have. A mom and a dad. Not two adults who were only happy when they were away from each other.

Mom got into some bad things she could never come back from and, of course, my father committed murder, but I try not to remember that.

The point is, that Christmas is the first I can recall and it was also the last we spent together.

I was three, so I didn't understand when my dad left one morning and never came back. Mom was angry and she cried a lot.

Then some men came to the house with my dad's partner, Ellen. She said she was going to take care of me from now on.

We moved to a different house and I wasn't supposed to call her Ellen anymore. I wasn't supposed to be called Neal either.

My name became Danny and over time, I forgot everything before. I'd always been Danny and my parents were dead. Dad had died a hero.

I spent a lot of Christmases with Ellen and those blur together in a haze. They were special.

Then I ran for the first time.

I was 18 and Ellen finally told me about my past, how I'd been living in witness protection this entire time, how my dad might have killed someone and my mom hadn't been heard from in years.

I spent the next four Christmases alone.

Then came Mozzie and Kate. I finally had a family, but our Christmases were small and once, we were interrupted by the feds closing in, though we were never caught. But sitting somewhere bathed in candlelight with our fake '82 Bordeaux, we were happy. It didn't matter how big the holiday was, we didn't have much to celebrate with and we were okay with that.

But then that ended and I spent three Christmases in prison.

It wasn't terrible. We were allowed a few freedoms on that day and some of the inmates even gave small gifts. But I didn't know anyone there and I didn't participate in the festivities, however trivial they were.

And then Kate stopped seeing me and I pulled another escape, which was probably the best thing I could have done, as it so happened.

I got out. On anklet, mind you, but I was nearly free. So the next few Christmases were spent at June's, in my little piece of the good life I'd always dreamed of.

Mozzie wasn't a big Christmas guy, though, so we didn't even get a tree. The most we did was give each other a small gift and call it good, but I was content with that. What was Christmas, anyway?

One Christmas I'll remember forever, though, and that was last year.

It started out miserable. Two days to go and Peter and I were stuck on a big case involving a thief, a forged Matisse, and a dead FBI agent. So far, it was looking like there had been an accident, but we knew our thief was involved and, like Peter continued to remind me, crime doesn't take the holidays off so we were obligated to see it through.

Honestly, I was this close to walking home and telling Peter exactly were he could stick his case files. We'd been fighting recently and I was at my wit's end with the feds, all of them.

Not to mention the weather was shitty, I'd forgotten my warm gloves, and we were getting ready to chase down another lead.

"Let's go," Peter said, not giving me a second glance as he walked past my desk.

I grabbed my hat and trailed along behind instead of at his side like I usually did, but he said nothing. We were both just about done with each other.

We did indeed chase down our guy. Correction: I chased down our guy and ended up slipping on the wet ground behind the building and falling in a muddy puddle.

Luckily, Peter had cut off the suspect further ahead and got him in cuffs. Meanwhile, I stood, my suit soaking wet and filthy and my temper just about ready to snap.

Then Peter looked at me and smiled. "Nice takedown."

Without a word, I turned on my heel and left him there. I didn't care anymore and I just wanted to go home and hit something.

Peter called after me, but I just flipped him the bird. Not usually my style, but I was ticked and I wanted to let him know I wasn't about to listen to him.

He let me go, not really having a choice since he had to wait for backup anyway. I walked home fuming and when I got there, I was grateful I was alone. The last thing I wanted to hear was Mozzie's attempts to cheer me up.

The rest of the night, I was in a foul mood, but there was nothing for me to take my anger out on, so I just slept it off.

The next morning, I went to the office as usual and planted myself at my desk. We'd closed our case and it was Christmas Eve, but I didn't feel like staying home and work was a good outlet, so I dug through old files and solved the easy ones I found until Peter came down from his office.

I ignored him until he was right there in front of my desk.

"Neal," he started.

"Peter," I said humorlessly.

I could see in his face that he wasn't here to fight, but I didn't feel like being friendly. I was allowed to have bad days, thank you very much.

He seemed to rethink what he'd been about to say and instead went with, "What have you got there?"

I slid over the stack of files. "Done. You can give these to Hughes."

That was pretty much the extent of our communication the rest of the day aside from a few minor things like him asking me something and me giving a one-word reply.

By the time the day was over, I was tired of it and as I got up to leave, I glanced up to Peter's office to give him a little nod and a wave. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Besides, tomorrow was Christmas and I didn't have to come in unless there was an emergency, so I wanted to leave on sort of good terms.

At home, Mozzie and June were playing another round of Parcheesi, so I let them be and hung out in my room with a book for a couple hours until I fell asleep.

In the morning, everyone was gone. Mozzie had disappeared for lord knows what reason. Usually he stayed, but apparently he had Christmas plans. June did, I knew. She was going dancing with Joe, a guy I'd met briefly once and immediately liked.

The morning was slow. I made some coffee, took a shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and sat out on the balcony to enjoy breakfast.

The day was just as slow. I ran a couple errands, took Bugsy for a walk to the park, hung out there for a while, came back and dabbled in paint for a while, then sat for a minute, just thinking.

I didn't do that a lot. I liked to keep moving and keep busy, but now all I could think of was my last Christmas with Kate.

If I'd have known it was the last, I would have given her more than a stolen diamond necklace and the bottle of Bordeaux filled with cheap Merlot.

I took the bottle down from the shelf now and looked at it with a small smile, tracing the label lightly.

Well, no need to break a tradition.

I grabbed the best wine I had and poured it into the Bordeaux, then took it with me out on the balcony to lean against the side and look out over the skyline as the sun set.

I tried to imagine a different skyline, one with the Eiffel tower in it. Paris.

I tipped the bottle to my lips and imagined I was there with no one chasing me, no anklet, no rules but the ones I made for myself. I imagined a new life, a perfect one, but I knew it wasn't possible anymore. Not now that Kate was gone.

I sighed, my breath releasing in a cloud of white in the frigid air as it started to snow ever so gently.

The flakes settled on my jacket and in my hair, bright specks against the darkness as the sun slowly disappeared behind the New York skyline.

I jumped, I'll admit it, when there was a knock at the door, nearly making me drop the Bordeaux down onto the street below.

Most likely Mozzie come to siphon my wine collection. It was Christmas, so I'd probably let him.

I opened the door, but the greeting died on my lips when I saw not Mozzie but Peter, standing there by himself.

I blinked, he blinked, then he jerked his head, gesturing for me to follow. "Come on, we've got a case."

I was actually kind of glad to finally have something to do, so I grabbed my hat and followed obediently as he walked to his car.

"What now?" I asked.

"I think you should see this for yourself," he said grimly and I furrowed my brow. That didn't sound good at all.

We didn't drive too far and when we pulled up outside a house, I stared at Peter in confusion. "What are we doing here?"

"Our case," he replied, "Come on."

He turned off the car and got out, leaving me no choice but to follow. What on earth was going on that he'd driven me to his own house for a case? Hopefully it wasn't Elizabeth, but I didn't think so. Peter would be more frantic if it were.

My thoughts were racing as we went in through the front door and I braced myself for whatever I might see.

I was immediately assaulted with delicious smells, bright colors, and four people shouting "Merry Christmas!"

Peter, Elizabeth, Mozzie, and June stood there smiling at me and I was left standing there speechless. Of all things, I should have expected this.

I couldn't find words, so I just looked at Mozzie and said, "You were in on this?"

He gave me a smug grin in reply and Peter spoke up, saying, "You didn't think we'd forget about you on Christmas, did you?"

I looked at him and slowly let a genuine smile show. I got it. We were a family. No way was Christmas going to pass without us being together.

Satchmo trotted in just then, a pair of antlers on his head as he wagged his tail and greeted me with a nice firm snout to the crotch.

Everyone started laughing and from then on, the party was flawless. Elizabeth had been cooking and baking all day and the food was heavenly. I was happy to see that she'd even remembered my gelato.

The decorations, I learned, had been June and Peter's doing while Mozzie had thoroughly swept the place for all possible bugs and/or gadgets that could have destroyed the entire evening. He was very proud of himself.

That night, as we passed around presents and enjoyed a perfect meal with the people closest to our hearts, I knew without a doubt that Paris was no dream of mine.

This was my real dream and the best part about it was that it had come true.