This story came out of a suggestion made by harrypotterfan2009 on Luigi's, to whom many thanks for the inspiration. I'm following Dickens' five-chapter (or five-stave) layout - plus an epilogue never envisaged by Dickens - but within that I'm sticking more to the sprit of the story than the strict letter (I haven't seen the recent film, by the way – this is by the book, as DI Tyler would say), with some small speculations for Series 3 thrown into the mix. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, any reviews and feedback would be very much appreciated!

"No, Chris. For the last time, you are not taking tomorrow off!"

Chris's lip trembled with disappointment. "B-but, Guv, it's the first Christmas Day since Shaz and I were married, and since Tammy was born, and we want so much to spend it all together, as a family - "

"You can go 'ome at five, same as everyone else, an' spend the evening with 'em. I'm sure Shaz can keep your Christmas dinner hot till then."

"But it won't be the same as spending the whole day with them, and Shaz will be so disappointed - "

"She'll just 'ave to be disappointed, won't she!"

"But, Guv, I've cleared up the Carter arrest, sorted the Stanton stakeout and finished the Fenton robbery. I'm right up to date with everything."

Gene's mouth twisted in a peculiarly nasty smile. "Good. Then you can be in 'ere tomorrow, bright an' early, an' spend a nice, instructive day doing my paperwork."

Chris's shoulders sagged. "Yes. Guv. Will you be in?"

"Of course, Christopher. Where else should I be? Scum don't sleep just because the rest of London's stuffing 'emselves with overpriced turkey, an' some of us remember the need to keep the streets clear."

"Yes, Guv," Chris mumbled.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Guv. Th-thank you, Guv."

"Then take your unwholesome face out of my sight. Mush."

"Yes, Guv."

The others watched anxiously as Chris emerged from Gene's office and shuffled over to his desk, his whole body language betokening defeat. Alex looked at him enquiringly, and he mimed a thumbs-down. She jumped to her feet, marched into Gene's office without knocking, and slammed the door behind her.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Ma'am, he's not in a very good mood - " Chris began, but found himself speaking to empty air. The rest of CID radiated silent sympathy. When is he ever in a good mood these days? None of them dared to say it, but everyone thought it.

Gene looked up with a scowl. "Good afternoon, Inspector, I don't recall you making an appointment an' I didn't 'ear you knock. To what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

Alex slammed her palms on the desk and leaned forward, returning glare for glare. "Gene. I cannot believe that you are forcing Chris to come on duty tomorrow. You know what it means to him."

Gene's face was cold, hard, shuttered. His eyes glittered like ice. "He should count 'imself bloody lucky he still 'as a station to report to."

"You're still punishing him for Operation Rose."

"He's got to prove that 'e can be trusted."

"For God's sake, Gene, it's been over a year since Operation Rose! You gave him another chance, and you know how grateful he's been. He's worked bloody hard since then to prove himself. He's improved no end, even though he hasn't had a word or a look of encouragement from you in all that time. You treat him like dirt, but in spite of everything he's still loyal to you. You're damned lucky he hasn't asked for a transfer."

"Of course he hasn't," said Gene grimly. "Scared I'd spill the beans."

"Have you considered that what you're doing to him is punishing Shaz, and their daughter? They haven't done anything to hurt you."

"Kid's too young to know whether 'e's there or not. If 'e didn't 'ave a kid, 'e wouldn't be making trouble about coming in tomorrow."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Maybe next year, he'll 'ave earned 'is Christmas Day off."

"The way you're going on, he'll have earned it when all Hell freezes over!" Alex snapped. "Look, Gene, this is Christmas. It's time to show him you forgive him."

"What the 'ell 'as Christmas got to do with it?"

"It's a time for peace and goodwill. For starting over. New beginnings. It's all about the birth of a baby. Let Chris spend tomorrow with his."

"Christmas is just an excuse for the criminal classes to cash in on the stupid, gullible sentimentality of the rest of the population. It's a bloody commercial exercise an' nothing more." Gene's mouth set in a straight line.

"It's everything more. A time for love and peace and happiness. For forgiveness."

"Chris comes in tomorrow."

Alex hung her head for a moment as though defeated, then looked up at him again. "This is about me, isn't it? Because you can't forgive me, and you're taking it out on them."

Gene's eyes were so icy that even Alex had to look away for a moment. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart."

"Please, Gene. For the day's sake, if not for his. Leave me out of this and start forgiving him by letting him stay home tomorrow."

"Who asked you to come into this?" said Gene coldly. "Tomorrow's a work day like any other day. Chris will work as normal."

"You used to enjoy Christmas," said Alex wistfully. "I remember that party at Luigi's two years ago, the first Christmas I was here."

Gene tried not to blush. He had his own reasons for remembering it too. "Things were different then, an' you know it."

"Yes, they were." Alex's voice registered ten degrees below zero. "I was in hospital last Christmas."

Gene looked away. "Yeah."

Alex cursed silently. Bringing that up isn't going to help Chris. "Let me take Chris's place tomorrow."

"No call for that. It's not your shift."

"It won't matter so much to me. I don't have any family to spend Christmas with."

Gene's face was set in its most ferocious scowl. Her heart sank. If he gives in now, it would look like weakness. You've blown it, Drake.

"Chris works tomorrow."

"Fine." Alex's voice was as tight as the skin of a tambourine. "If Chris has to come in tomorrow, so shall I. I'm sure I can find some interesting paperwork to do. I was wrong about you, Gene Hunt. I thought you were a good, kind, decent man. Turns out you're nothing but a bloody Scrooge. Bah, humbug!"

"I am not a striped peppermint!" Gene shouted as the door slammed behind her. She marched back into CID, still seething. DI Ray Carling watched her glumly. Nothing had gone right since bloody Operation Rose, more than a year ago. Nobody knew what had caused that spectacular row between the Guv and the Boss - he still thought of her by that title, despite his own promotion, perhaps because he knew how much he had learned from her. As soon as she had emerged from her coma, she had calmly made it clear to the investigating team that her shooting had been a complete accident and that the Guv had been acting to save her life. She had also stated that the real name of the man whom the Guv had killed, was Martin Summers, that he had been stalking her for months, and that he had been holding her at gunpoint when the Guv shot him. Chris had led the investigating team to a shabby, one-room flat filled with evidence incriminating the dead man in Operation Rose and photographs and press cuttings about the Boss and the Guv, which had confirmed her story. Thanks to her, the Guv had been cleared of all charges. But since her return to duty, relations between her and the Guv had been no more than coolly professional, and more often than not they were at each others' throats, with poor Chris bearing the brunt of the Guv's displeasure. It had become particularly bad since the Christmas season had got underway. The Guv had outlawed anything to do with the seasonal festivities. For the first time in living memory there had been no Christmas party. He had forbidden any decorations in the office, and although he could not stop the canteen serving festive food, he had made it clear that anyone who brought so much as a mince pie into his kingdom would find it up their fundament. Ray sighed. He didn't have to be some bloody psychiatrist to see how deeply unhappy the Guv and the Boss both were. He wished he could do something to improve the situation, but he knew his limitations. Never thought I'd see the day when I thought this, but I wish Twonkhead Tyler were here. He'd crack their heads together and get them to sort all this out. More than I can do.

Alex made her way over to Chris's desk. "Sorry, Chris, he won't give in. I did try."

Chris managed a weak smile. "I know you did, Ma'am. Thanks."

Ray joined the group. "Sorry, mate."

Chris heaved a deep sigh. "Never mind. I just 'ate disappointing Shaz." He glanced from one to the other. "Look, would you like to 'ave Christmas dinner with us tomorrow?"

Alex's face softened. "Oh, Chris, how sweet of you. But this is your first Christmas with Shaz and Tammy. Wouldn't we be intruding?"

"Not at all," said Chris warmly. "You've done so much for us, and you know how grateful we are. We'd love to 'ave you."

"Then I'd love to come," said Alex with equal warmth. "Thank you so much. It would have been a lonely Christmas for me, all alone in my flat."

Chris turned to Ray. "How about you, mate?"

"Thanks, I'd 'ave loved to, but I've got a sizzling bird of my own to see to tomorrow."

"No worries," Chris said solemnly, while Alex laughed. "I'm glad someone'll 'ave a good Christmas."

"In spite of the Guv," Alex said acidly. "I'm on duty tomorrow too, so when we leave I'll nick a pool car to get you home as soon as possible. The Guv can complain as much as he likes."

Chris brightened. "Thanks, Ma'am, that'll be great. Dinner probably won't be ready till then anyway." Alex raised an enquiring eyebrow, and he looked embarrassed. "Don't think Shaz'll let me buy the turkey again. I got it yesterday, a real bargain, but it weighs eighteen pounds. She says it'll take most of the day to cook it."

"Good lord!" Alex burst out laughing. "You'll be eating it up for weeks. I'll have to look out some recipes for you - turkey curry, turkey pie, turkey bolognese, turkey chow mein, turkey à la king - " Damn. I haven't got them here with me. They're all at home in 2008. But I expect I could write them out from memory if she wants them.

"Thanks. I'll tell Shaz."

"It's a date, then. Oh, well, we'd better get back to work before old Scrooge jumps down our throats."

Chris nodded, and Alex picked up her mug and headed for the kitchen. As she returned with her coffee, Jim Keats emerged from his office.

"Alex," he said quietly.

"Jim."

"I gather you and Hunt haven't been able to bury the hatchet for Christmas."

"The only place I want to bury the hatchet right now is in Gene's head," said Alex viciously.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault that he's such a miserable bastard."

"Look, Alex, would you like to come out to dinner tonight? I'm on leave from tomorrow until the New Year, but I'd like to give you a bit of Christmas before I go."

Alex shook her head. "Thanks, Jim. It's awfully kind of you, but no, thanks."

"I'd really like to."

"I'm sure you would, but no, thanks. I won't lack for Christmas cheer. Chris and Shaz have invited me to dinner tomorrow."

"That's good of them. A pity Hunt can't follow the example of his own junior officers."

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's beyond redemption," said Alex bitterly.

"Are you sure about dinner?"

"Yes, thanks, quite sure."

"All right. Let me know if you change your mind before we both leave tonight." He smiled at her and returned to his office.

Ray glowered at Keats' office door as it closed. That smarmy bastard's been sniffing around the Boss ever since he got here. You leave her alone. She may be a pain in the arse, but she's our pain in the arse!

-oO0Oo-

CID dispersed promptly at 5.00. There were no drinks at Luigi's, as he had gone home to Italy for Christmas, and the restaurant was closed. Those who had families, went home to them, while the unencumbered males set out on a pub crawl. Except for Gene. He remained alone in his office, his feet propped on his desk, absentmindedly swilling a glass of single malt in his hand. The lights in the main office were out, and only the lamp in his office remained alight, like a beacon in the night.

A beacon. That was what he needed. Something to follow, something he could recognise and keep to. Christ, this job had never been so hard, and it could only get harder from now on. His face twisted in a bitter grimace. His trust in everyone he loved or depended upon had been broken beyond repair, and now they expected him to go out celebrating with them. Well, they could stuff it. The events of the past thirteen months had proved to him that human relationships were just too difficult for him to manage any longer. From now on he would stick to the one thing that he knew he could do. His job. His beacon.

The hand holding the glass stilled as he heard a noise in the outer office. Probably some useless tosser coming back for his wallet. But as the sounds of movement continued, and he saw nothing, his sense of self-preservation kicked in. Could some bastard with a score to settle have got wind of the fact that he was in here alone, and sneaked in to exact revenge? Impossible. Viv, or whoever's on the desk, would never let anyone get past unchallenged. He set his glass down, swung his legs off the desk, and reached for his gun.

"Oy! Who's out there?"

Silence.

"If you're some fat fraud in red who's parked your sleigh on my roof, your reindeer'll be venison by morning!"

This time the darkness seemed to respond. Something seemed to coalesce within it and slowly made its way towards his office. Gene tried to shout again, but only a croak came out. His hair stood on end as the shape resolved itself into someone he knew, or had known, walked right through the closed door, sat in the seat facing him, and reached for his whisky and glass.

"Do you mind? It's been so long since I tasted a decent single malt."

"M - Mac? "

Superintendent Charlie Mackintosh raised the glass and smiled. "Evening, Gene."

Gene clutched wildly at the edge of the desk and his sanity. "What the bloody 'ell are you doing 'ere?"

"I've come to see you." Mac's voice and manner were as impeturbable and oleaginous as ever. "Don't look so scared. I'm only a ghost. I can't hurt you."

"I'm not scared." Gene hid his shaking hands under the desk. "An' you did hurt us. All of us. 'Ad you any idea 'ow deep the rot went?"

"I knew, yes. Remember, I warned you about Operation Rose before I died."

"You came 'ere to see me. You've seen. Put my Scotch down an' bugger off back where you came from."

Mac put the glass down. "Where do you think I've come from? Knowing all the things I did?"

Gene shrugged. "Pretty obvious, innit? So 'ow come they let you out?"

Mac looked at him very seriously. "Because it's Christmas Eve - " Gene winced, and Mac continued, "I have been given the chance to help someone who once helped me, despite all the harm I did him. That person is you."

"I don't need your 'elp!" Gene roared. "I don't need the 'elp of the man who betrayed everything my team an' I believed in an' left us to fall into the shit 'e'd left behind!"

Mac sighed. "I know why you don't want to listen to me, but in the name of the copper I once was, before I went to the bad, I must implore you to bear with me for a few minutes. I don't have very long."

Gene grabbed the Scotch and took a long swig. "So, what do you want?"

"There are many ways in which a man can destroy himself, Gene. I destroyed myself through greed and the lust for power. But it is equally possible for a man to destroy himself through bitterness and mistrust. By isolating himself from everyone around him." Gene moved involuntarily in reaction and then was still. "Do you recognise yourself in what I say?"

"An' if I am bitter an' isolated, who do you think started all that?" Gene snapped.

"It's too late for me," said Mac gravely. "But while a man still lives, it is never too late to change his course."

"You sound like a Sunday school," Gene scoffed.

"It's not too late for you to find a way back," said Mac earnestly. "I don't want you to share my fate. Oh, I know you can't be corrupted now," he added, as Gene twitched angrily, "but Hell has many forms, and loneliness is one of them. Knowing the harm you have done to those who love you, when it is too late to make amends, is another. Believe me, I know. Anne, my wife - Victoria, my own little girl - I know what they went through after I died and are still suffering, learning what I was and what I did, and I know I'll never see them again. I'm all alone there, and I always will be, forever. The isolation you feel now is nothing to what you'd feel there, knowing that it will stretch on for all eternity. DI Drake was right in what she said to you, earlier today. Christmas is a time for new beginnings. I'm here to tell you about the chance you will be given, of avoiding my fate. Not by me," he added, seeing Gene stir angrily again. "I know nothing I can say could influence you now. That is why I have arranged for you to be visited by three spirits, all of whom are already known to you."

"Spirits?"

"Yes. One living, two dead, one from Heaven, one from Hell."

"Bloody 'ell, no thanks. I'll stick to the spirits I can get inside bottles."

"My part in this ends tonight," Mac continued, as though Gene had not spoken. "I must hand you into their care, one after the other. They will explain to you, what they have to do. The first will arrive as soon as I leave here; the second, at midnight tomorrow, and the third, at midnight the day after."

"I've just told you, I don't want any of your spirits!"

"As you wish, but I won't stand down the operation yet. I'll leave it for you to decide when Number One arrives. You can send him away then, if you want, and I'll cancel all arrangements. But I really hope you'll take this chance." He rose. "Goodbye, Gene. Thanks for hearing me out."

"Why?"

Mac paused at the door. "Why what?"

"Why are you doing this for me? I brought you down."

Mac turned to face him. "You forgave me as I was dying. I had come so near to destroying you and everything you believed in, yet you forgave me."

"Yeah. I did."

"I cannot tell you what a help that has been to me, since. Every time a sinner like myself is forgiven a wrong that they did to someone else, it increases, very slightly, their chance that they may, ultimately, be redeemed from Hell. There's still very little chance of that for me. There are too many people I harmed who cannot forgive me, and in all conscience I can't blame them. But your pardon has given me something to cling to. A shred of hope, however small or distant. A single ray of light in the darkness. That is why I want, so badly, to restore some hope to you." Somewhere outside, a church clock struck midnight. "Ah. Time's up. Goodbye, Gene."

He turned, walked through the closed door, and vanished into the darkness beyond. Gene, transfixed, found himself counting the footsteps Mac would need to take to reach the swing doors into the CID office, while his ears strained for any sound. There was nothing. On an impulse, he leapt from his chair and ran to the window to see if Mac would emerge into the street. Night and silence.

"Guv! Oh, you can't imagine how good it is to see you again!"

He whirled around. There stood the only person, living or dead, who might still have the power to breach the barriers around his enclosed heart.

"Sam."

TBC