Christmases Yet To Come
The Scotch is good: twelve year old Glenfiddich that had been a gift from the mayor. Normally Danny would've savored it, made the bottle last months because it isn't the kind of liquor he can normally afford to buy for himself. Tonight, though, he's in a race with himself to finish it. It's okay, though, because he's drinking it out of a plastic cup which puts him a step above homeless wino drinking right out of the bottle. That's a really important distinction in his mind, which is rapidly becoming pleasantly hazy.
It's Christmas Eve, and instead of being with his family he's holed up in a shitty motel room drinking himself into oblivion. Danny glares at the amber liquid in the cup before knocking it back, as if it's responsible for his life going down the crapper.
Grace is supposed to be with him tonight, that was the agreement. But between last Christmas and this one Rachel met Stan, and now his little girl is having dinner with the Edwards family. Probably having to use a different fork for every fancy course they're eating in the big, swanky house they own in Connecticut.
"Connecticut," Danny snorts, and pours himself another four fingers. He understands why he and Rachel can't be together, he really does, but did she have to find a rich guy to take up with? Stan is going to turn Grace's head with all that money, buying her things Danny can't afford and taking her on trips. Taking her away.
Rachel told him about Stan's new project. He's a real-estate developer or something, he puts up hotels and resorts all over the world. And now this asshole wants to take his daughter to Hawaii, which is practically at the edge of the world. The worst thing of all, the thing that has Danny self-medicating with alcohol, is that he's wondering if maybe Grace wouldn't be better off with Stan.
He pours more scotch and does his best to forget how much his life sucks right now.
*o*o*o*
"Hey, partner."
Danny blinks blearily at the light from the bedside lamp. He fell asleep sitting up, his head at an odd angle, and now he's got a crick in his neck. His mouth is dry and tastes like the underside of a taxi.
"Wha'?" he slurs. There's a familiar figure standing at the foot of the bed: his partner, Grace. She's wearing the same outfit he last saw her in, a bright yellow shirt and a black leather jacket. It's what she was wearing the day she died.
"You look like shit, Williams."
Danny rubs a hand over his mouth. "Ugh. Too much to drink." He slides off the bed and stumbles into the bathroom. He sticks his head under the bathroom faucet and drinks greedily to get the cruddy taste out of his mouth.
"Understatement of the year." Grace pushes him out of the way and pours what little is left of the Glenfiddich down the drain.
"Hey!" he protests, grabbing clumsily for the bottle and missing.
"You know, I never had to do this when I was alive and I'm not too thrilled to be doing it now, you shit." Grace manhandles him into the shower and cranks the cold knob all the way to the left.
"Jesus Christ!" The cold water is a shock to his system and he tries to scramble out of the stall but his unexpectedly solid ghost of a former partner is blocking his way. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You need to sober up."
Danny presses himself into the corner of the shower, arms crossed against the cold seeping into his skin. It's successful in cutting through the cobwebs in his head but not in banishing Grace, who continues to stand there and give him the hairy eyeball. She always excelled at that disapproving expression, and Danny feels a little ache in his chest seeing it now.
"Are you a hallucination?" he asks her, teeth chattering.
"You wish." Grace finally turns the shower off and throws a towel at Danny's head. "Dry off. I'll be waiting."
She exits the bathroom and Danny just stares at the space she'd been occupying. He's still drunk, there's nothing that'll get all that alcohol out of his system except time, but he's definitely thinking clear enough to know that there's no way he could've seen her. He doesn't believe in ghosts, never has. But he's also never had hallucinations, not even right after the divorce when he went on a bender and Matty had to make sure he didn't drown in his own vomit.
"Move it, Williams!" Grace shouts from the other room.
Danny hides his face in the towel and wishes her away.
*o*o*o*
Somehow Grace-the-Apparition obtained a large Styrofoam cup full of black coffee while Danny was hiding in the bathroom. She hands it to him and then sits in the chair by the door, booted feet propped up on the little round table there.
"Sit down and tell me why you're being a shithead."
Danny takes a deep swallow of coffee first, letting the bitter liquid burn down his throat. He sits on the edge of the bed, his wet clothes soaking through the thin comforter. He can't look at Grace so he looks at the cup in his hands, and his bare feet, and the worn rust-colored carpet that's probably swarming with disease.
"So what's up with you, partner? You haven't been this bad since the divorce."
"You know about that?"
"Duh. I know all about your daughter, too. She's a sweet kid."
"I named her after you," Danny says with a lump in his throat. The hand not holding the coffee is curled into a fist on his thigh.
"I know," Grace replies softly. "Thank you. That means a lot."
"If you know about her then you know about Stan." Danny can't help the snarl when he says the other man's name.
"He's not the reason you and Rachel couldn't make a go of things."
"No. He's taking my daughter away. They're moving to Hawaii for one of his projects. That's not a place you live, it's a place you vacation, and what the hell am I supposed to do? Huh? You tell me that, you all-seeing…ghost, or whatever you are." Danny's looking at Grace now, challenging her, angry and bitter and so, so scared of losing the best thing that ever came into his life.
Grace drops her feet off the table and leans forward with her elbows on her knees, brown eyes snapping with a fury of her own. "And you're just gonna let her go? Does being a father mean so little to you? Because the man who showed me those ultrasound pictures, he was pretty damn happy to be a dad."
"I love my daughter!" Danny snaps, his hand tightening on the coffee cup so hard the Styrofoam creaks ominously. "There's no-one I love more, don't you ever say different! But…Stan can give her things, a life, that I can't. That I'll never be able to, not so long as I'm a cop."
"You're her father, Danny." Grace reaches out and covers his fisted hand with her own. She feels real, her skin warm. "Stan can never be for her what you are. She adores you. You have to go, Danny. If Grace moves to Hawaii, that's where you need to be."
Danny's anger drains away as quickly as it came, leaving him hollow. "It's not that easy."
"You're such a stubborn pain in the ass. It's nice to know some things don't change." Grace gives his hand a squeeze and lets go. She checks her watch. "I have to go. But someone else will be stopping by. Listen to him, and make the right decision."
"Only one more ghostly visitation? Were there cutbacks or something?" The sarcasm falls flat, because Grace is leaving and Danny's pretty sure he'll never see her again. Especially if she's just a hallucination, or a dream. He's missed her more than he realized.
"If he can't get the job done then you're a hopeless case, pal." Grace gets to her feet.
"Grace, I want to…I never got the chance –"
"I know, Danny. It's okay." Grace leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "Don't be a dumbass."
Between one blink and the next she's gone, and Danny just sits there for a long time staring at her chair and wishing he could go back in time.
*o*o*o*
Danny jerks awake, certain that someone is watching him. He'd been having the weirdest dream about his former partner, something right out of A Christmas Carol. He fumbles for the lamp and turns the light on, reaching for the drawer where he keeps his gun even as he blinks the spots out of his eyes because he was right, there's someone in the room with him.
It's a kid. He doesn't look much older than thirteen or fourteen.
"Hey! How'd you get in here?" Danny yanks open the drawer and pulls his weapon. It's his backup piece and he keeps it pointed down because he's all for defending himself but he damn well doesn't want to have to shoot this boy.
The kid has shaggy red hair. He's wearing a blue tank-top and baggy blue swim trunks, completely out of season for December in New Jersey, and he's wandering around the room looking at everything with a furrowed brow. He looks vaguely familiar but Danny can't place him.
"Dude, this place is the pits. You live here?"
"Who are you?"
The kid turns to face Danny, who can see that the skin along his cheekbones is badly sunburnt, and no wonder with all that pale, freckled skin. For some reason Danny finds it hard to breathe all of a sudden, his chest constricting painfully tight. There's a phantom taste of saltwater in his mouth.
"It hasn't been that long, DJ."
"Billy." The gun drops to the mattress from Danny's nerveless fingers. Jesus. Billy Selway, and now Danny realizes he looks the same as he did all those years ago at Wildwood.
"This place is gross. Don't you have a house or something?"
"You're not really here. This is just a dream." Danny's getting well into panic attack territory. "You're not real."
"Didn't Grace tell you I was coming? She was supposed to." Billy jumps on the bed and Danny presses back against the headboard to get away from him. "She's a babe. You bone her?"
"What? No! She was my partner on the force. I'm married. Well, was married." Danny gets some of his breath back, if just to defend his honor.
"Things aren't going so well, huh?" Billy's blue eyes are full of sympathy. "Sucks. But hey! That's why I'm here!"
"Why? Why are you here?"
"I get to show you what Christmas will be like if you go to Hawaii. Which is totally cool by the way." Billy bounces a little on the bed. "I know how much you love the beach."
He did love it, until it took Billy's life. That's not something Danny can talk about with his old, dead friend less than a foot away from him looking so incredibly alive. Danny's had a hate/hate relationship with the ocean ever since that summer so long ago and the thought of going to Hawaii, which is essentially nothing but beachfront property, fills him with dread.
"Come on, DJ. Aren't you just a little curious?" Billy punches him in the shoulder, a solid shot from such a scrawny kid.
Danny knows he should say no. If he lets himself be pushed around by a couple figments of his imagination, how long before he's living in a padded room wearing a hug-me jacket?
"You're not crazy," Billy says. The look on his face is so earnest, and Danny really wants to believe him. "It's Christmas, jerkface. Trust me on this one, okay?"
Trust me on this one. How often had Billy said that when they were kids, turning every summer into a competition of one-upmanship? Danny'd been unable to deny him then, and finds he's equally unable to deny him now.
"So how does this work? Magic words? Angel wings? What?"
"You're still a dick." Billy laughs and clamps his hand around Danny's wrist. "Let's go."
*o*o*o*
Danny feels a little vertigo, but the change from motel room to Hawaiian street corner is almost instantaneous. He blinks in the bright sunlight, scowling at the palm trees and the scent of sea water that carries on the breeze. And then he gets a better look at where they are, which is behind a police barricade. Several yards away a man is kneeling on hot concrete, and there's something around his neck that clearly shouldn't be there.
"What the hell?"
"Oh. Whoops. Too early." Billy shrugs, and the world slips just a little to the left until they're off the street and inside a shoebox of an apartment. "Geez. You really have a thing for living in dumps."
He's not wrong. The place is ugly, even with the Christmas decorations that have been strung up and the little Charlie Brown tree gleaming with lights. But all of it's secondary to the people crowded in the small space, strangers to Danny except for the version of him that's kneeling down in an ill-fitting Santa suit and hugging a little girl that he instantly recognizes as his daughter.
"See? You've got friends here already." Billy smiles smugly. "Told you."
"Yeah? And how do I know they're friends? Maybe they're just neighbors, or homeless people, or really pleasant home invaders." Danny has had a vision of the kind of life he'd have in Hawaii and friends don't figure into it at all. Mostly he's imagined long stretches of misery with brief bright spots marking his visitation days.
Billy rolls his eyes. "Would you get a grip? I know Christmas is your favorite holiday. You think you'd be spending it with people off the street? Look at them!"
It feels silly, to balk at something that's so very clear. Danny knows he wouldn't invite just anyone to spend Christmas with him and his daughter, and everyone gathered in the room looks so happy and comfortable with each other, even the ridiculously large Hawaiian with the bald head. He wonders who they are, how his other self knows them, especially the tall guy in the blue shirt who's looking at Other-Danny with an almost wistful expression on his handsome face.
"Who is that?" Danny asks Billy, whispering.
"They can't hear you, goofus. Or see you." Billy elbows him in the side. "That's your new partner, Steve."
"I'm still a cop?"
"Duh. They have cops in Hawaii, you know."
Steve. Other-Danny is looking back at him in a way that can only be called affectionate, and it's so strange reading his own face that way. Danny wonders if there's something between them, though in his experience partners hooking up is always a bad idea.
"Are you trying to tell me I like it here? 'Cause I call bullshit on that."
Billy snorts. "Yeah, right. You hate it. But these people? They make you hate it less."
Danny watches his other self as everyone starts to mingle. It's like watching a silent movie – he can see their mouths moving but there's no sound at all. They look like friends. There are lots of smiles and laughing and, most importantly, Grace seems at ease with everyone in the room. And they all clearly dote on her.
"I guess I don't look miserable."
"You think that's not miserable? Just wait!" Billy takes hold of Danny's wrist again and the room slips sideways.
*o*o*o*
Different house, presumably a different Christmas. Danny looks around trying to get his bearings. Everyone from the other Christmas is there, plus a handful of others. It's still like watching a pantomime, which is kind of creepy. He wishes there was at least holiday appropriate music playing in the background.
"Is this my place?"
"Keep dreaming," Billy says. "This is Steve's."
Steve's place, but Other-Danny sure looks at home there. He moves through the crowd, talking to everyone and passing around a plate of cookies. Danny looks around for Grace and finds her helping Steve decorate the tree, giggling and looking up at him like he's some kind of hero.
Danny feels a pull in his chest, watching this. He hasn't seriously entertained the thought of moving to Hawaii; it seems too hard, too far away, too different from the life he's used to. But there he is, with a seemingly close-knit group of friends, looking like he belongs. Looking happy. And Grace is fairly glowing; clearly Hawaii agrees with her.
"Here, this is the good part." Billy moves his hand in a circle and everything around them goes into fast forward, bodies moving at a dizzying pace. When it all stops most of the guests are gone, and Grace is sleeping on Steve's sofa with a blanket draped across her.
Steve and Other-Danny are leaning against opposite sides of the same doorway, looking tired but pleased. They're having some sort of silent conversation, and at one point Steve looks over at Grace, a smile on his lips. Danny can see how much Steve loves her, it's written all over his face. It's just as clear to him that Other-Danny feels the same way about Steve.
The young Asian woman from the first Christmas comes in from the other room and points up. Steve and Other-Danny are standing under the mistletoe and she clearly wants them to do something about that. They look up at the same time, and then Other-Danny immediately drops his gaze to his feet, blushing.
"Jeez, am I always that obvious?" Danny asks Billy.
"Pretty much."
The look that Steve gives Other-Danny is definitely heated, and it doesn't take a profiler to read the situation. They're friends, partners…but they each want something more. And they don't have it yet. It's been a very long time since Rachel looked at him that way, the way Steve is looking at his other self.
The woman says something, a wide grin on her face, and Other-Danny is clearly on the defensive. Danny's a little taken back by the arm waving. Does he really use his hands that much when he's talking? His other self turns to Steve, possibly to get some back-up, but Steve just shrugs and leans in to kiss Other-Danny. Right on the mouth.
Danny finds himself holding his breath, waiting to see what his other self is going to do. And what he does is freeze for the briefest second, and then wrap his arms around Steve and kiss him back for all he's worth. Danny wants to be in Other-Danny's shoes, wants that so much.
"Time to go," Billy says.
"No, wait, can't we just –"
"There's one more. You'll like it, trust me." Billy holds on to him as the scene melts away.
*o*o*o*
The new scene looks much like the one they just left, except the only people in the room are Steve and Grace. Danny gapes at his daughter, who looks so mature. She must be well into her teens at this point, and just as beautiful as always. She and Steve are sitting on the sofa, looking through a photo album. And then Other-Danny comes into the room, and Danny's breath catches in his throat.
Other-Danny is holding a baby, a little boy in a Santa suit onesie. Steve looks up at him, his face breaking out into a big, bright smile, and Grace gets up to take the baby from him. She makes silly faces and the baby responds with a toothless smile and Danny thinks his insides might be melting.
"Is he…is that our baby?"
"Sure is. Yours and Steve's. His name is Johnny."
"Johnny," Danny parrots. He can't stop staring at the baby, at his shock of dark hair and his chubby little arms. Other-Danny came to Hawaii for Grace, and it seems like he found something for himself as well. A new life, and it looks pretty damn good; it looks solid. And Other-Danny looks so incredibly happy.
"This is where you're supposed to be, DJ," Billy says. "If you stay in Jersey you might be happy. Maybe meet someone. But it won't be like this."
"If I go to Hawaii, I get all this? I get Steve and Grace and…and Johnny?"
"Only if you stop being a dick." Billy shrugs. "It's a pretty sweet deal, man. But it's all up to you."
Other-Danny, Steve and Grace settle in together on the sofa while the Christmas tree blinks cheerfully nearby. Other-Danny presses a kiss to Grace's head while the baby clutches Steve's finger in one tiny fist.
"I want it," Danny says. "I do."
"Finally! You're a hard sell, man. Grace owes me five bucks."
"You two bet on me? Don't ghosts have better things to do?"
Billy grins. "Nope. Come on, DJ. Time to go home."
Danny opens his mouth to protest – he wants to stay, he wants to watch just a little more – but Billy already has hold of his wrist and everything fades to black.
*o*o*o*
Danny wakes up in the morning a little stiff but surprisingly not hungover, despite the crazy amount of Scotch he drank the night before. He lingers in bed for a while, waiting for the bitterness to sink in, but overnight it seems to have vanished. He has a vague memory of a dream he had, something about Christmas and a party, but the more he tries to remember it the quicker it slips away.
With a sigh Danny gets out of bed and gets himself ready to face the day. He takes an extra hot shower, enjoying the sluice of water over his shoulders. He idly wonders what Christmas is like in Hawaii. Strange to think of sun and sand instead of snow and dark, leaden clouds.
While he brushes his teeth he thinks maybe he was too hasty in dismissing Hawaii. It's the ultimate tourist trap, sure, but that's where his daughter is going to be. Screw Stan Edwards and his fat bank account! Grace is a Williams and Danny doesn't want her to turn into some hoity-toity snob who thinks she's better than everyone else. Not on his watch.
Danny contemplates shaving but decides against it. He still has a few days of leave and he doesn't mind being scruffy a little longer. Plus it makes Grace giggle whenever he kisses her, and there's no sound in the world he most wants to hear than his daughter's laughter.
There's a lightness in his step that's been missing for a while as he grabs a handful of wrapped packages and heads out the door. He's having Christmas Day brunch with his parents and then picking up Grace and keeping her overnight. So he'll have some time to feel his parents out on the whole Hawaii issue, see what they think about him moving there.
Danny has the weirdest feeling, like maybe that's exactly where he needs to be.
AN: Just a little holiday fluff. Because Christmas makes me turn to goo. ::grins:: Happy Holidays, readers!