If Roger thought that the store they had just left was bad, he quickly learned how wrong he was -entering into the main area of the mall was like going directly into the belly of the beast. Despite his height and bulk, Roger found himself being knocked about like a ping-pong ball. This, along with the ever increasing grumbling from a highly agitated Riggs was making Roger a most unhappy camper. If he heard one more salesperson wish him "Happy Holidays!" with their forced merriment and frozen smiles, HE was going to be the one exploding.

"Shit! Is that song on a constant reloop?!" Turning around, Roger saw Martin, both hands pressed to his ears in a fruitless attempt to block out the millionth piped in rendition of 'Jingle Bells' that they had heard so far that evening - this one done in a horrible hip-hop/country mash-up version. "It's seeping into every crevice of my brain. Seriously," Riggs growled, "this is about as bad as any torture I've had to endure."

"Well, Riggs, just like any torture, it ends eventually."

"It's gonna end alright and sooner than they were expecting because I'm gonna find where the sound system is located and then I'm gonna shoot it."

"Oh, no you're not. We're here to find a present for Trish and that's what we are going to do."

The younger man continued to grumble under his breath but Roger could tell by the look on his face that he was actually trying to calm down - at least for the moment. Afraid to say anything to jinx it, Roger just took a deep breath, his own expression weary as they moved further along, finding themselves back into the middle of another massive crowd. Despite the jittery, nervous look that everyone had, instead of moving along quickly, they crawled through the interior of the mall with a bovine sluggishness that made him want to climb the walls; so no small wonder that Riggs was getting jumpy.

They veered off into a little boutique with ridiculously priced clothes that Trish would never want, quickly fell back into the swarm again before hitting another larger store. Ignoring the overwhelming sense of desperation, they made their way around a group of people arguing with a frustrated salesperson as they tried to use coupons that were not only expired but belonging to another department store. Both men visibly tensed at the sound of raised angry voices but luckily they were able to plow through without incident. Suddenly Roger could smell the clouds of perfume emanating from yet another saleswoman ahead of them and he quickly used his larger body to guide his partner off to one side. Riggs glanced over at him, eyes narrowing questioningly but Roger just pointed to a sign off in the distance, "Let's head over there."

Martin groaned. "Awww, come on! Another clothing store?"

"You got any other bright ideas?!" Roger barked back in response.

Riggs frowned slightly, lips pursed deep in thought when suddenly he snapped his fingers, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, I got it! We can get her cooking lessons!"

Roger's eyes opened wide, a horrified look filling them. "Ohhhh… bad, bad idea …"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah … I tried that one year." A sheepish expression suddenly came over the big man as one hand went up, rubbing the side of his head. "I think I still have the knot from where she threw the cookbook that came with the class at me…"

"Uhmm … well, alrighty then …" Riggs glanced off to one side without further comment, trying not to look too embarrassed for his best friend.

Still trying to put the memories of THAT horrible Christmas out of his mind, Roger shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, thoughts returning to the list of possible gifts he had been trying to compose in his head. Of course, almost immediately, his concentration was broken by Riggs' sudden loud exclamation of, "What the HELL!?"

Quickly looking over, Roger saw that his pain in the ass partner was now aiming his megawatt death glare at an elderly gentleman standing nearby. Good Lord, Roger thought to himself. What could possibly be the problem now? The frail man looked to be about eighty-five and as harmless as a mouse in his mismatched plaid shirt, baseball cap and pants - the waistband of which was pulled up so high the belt could almost double as a bowtie.

"Riggs …"

"Don't Riggs me!" One of Martin's hands came up to rub against his side. "Grandpa here elbowed me so hard he nearly cracked a rib!"

"GRANDPA?!" the old man yelled back. "You're taking up the whole aisle, ya long haired freak!"

"Long haired freak?!" Riggs sputtered, unable to come up with anything else to say.

Despite his frustration, Roger couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the edges of his mouth - at least something happened to brighten his mood - and he needed that; especially considering that the only thing he wanted was to be curled up with Trish in front of the fireplace, drinking a hot toddy and listening to their old Nat King Cole Christmas album. It didn't matter if it was warm enough to be wearing shorts and people were surfing the waves at the beach, it was Christmas, damn it, and that was what they did every Christmas Eve. Sighing, Roger reached over and laying a hand on Riggs' arm, pulled him back gently; his frown deepened as his partner shook his hand off, his focus still honed on the elderly man like a cobra about to strike.

"Look here, you old coot, if you don't behave, I'm gonna arrest you for assaulting a police officer!"

"Assaulting a police officer?!"

"That's right. I'm a cop."

"HAH!" the man sneered back in response as he shook a liver-spotted fist at the younger man. "Like I believe that, ya damn hippie!" Raising his other hand, he jabbed Riggs in the upper thigh as hard as he could with the end of his cane before moving on, muttering loudly about youngsters and the complete lack of respect they held these days for their elders.

"Shit!" Riggs bent over, now rubbing his leg. Of course, the old geezer had poked him right where Vorstedt's knife had gone through because sometimes that was just the way things went for Riggs. Despite the time that had passed, he had plenty of days when it bothered him and being stabbed again by another pointy object certainly didn't help matters any. Growling under his breath, Riggs pivoted on one heel and limped off as fast as he could - the crowd of people parting like the Red Sea - everyone instinctively realizing it would be in their best interest to avoid the irate detective. Roger followed after his partner and by the time he reached him, Riggs was already leaning against a nearby wall, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Roger prudently decided not to say anything about smoking this time. Sucking in a lungful, Riggs looked over at Roger as he blew a column of smoke into the air, then threw his hands upward in a gesture of surrender. "Okay," he muttered with downcast eyes, "you were right. This really was a stupid idea on my part."

Roger wanted to say, "I told you so," but considering that Riggs looked as pathetic as a kicked puppy, he managed to refrain from gloating. Instead he smiled broadly. "Oh, it's alright, Martin. It was nice of you to try."

"I guess." Pushing himself off from the wall with one shoulder, Riggs dropped the cigarette and ground the stub out with a booted toe, not bothering to pick it up afterwards. Roger decided not to say anything about littering either. He'd learned a long time ago when to pick his battles … made for a much smoother partnership. Noticing the younger man's glum face, he reached over and gave him a pat. "Look," Roger said in an effort to cheer him up, "come on over to the house tonight."

"Naahh…" Riggs shook his head emphatically. He knew that Christmas Eve was Roger and Trish's time together and he didn't want to intrude - something he often felt he did too much of as it was.

"Are you sure you won't come over?"

Riggs rubbed one palm hard across his forehead as if he had suddenly developed a killer headache. "Yeah, I'm sure." Roger's eyes narrowed a bit as he picked up on the slightly melancholic tone that had seeped into Riggs' voice. Since becoming friends with the Murtaugh's, Martin had been able to make progress from the hopeless state they had found him in originally. The process was slow, not easy and filled with plenty of backsliding … which always made him a bit nervous when Riggs started to sound like he was doing. Roger tried to make another attempt. "We'd love to have you over tonight. Are you sure?"

Eyes staring down at the floor, Martin shook his head again but then looked back up, smiling reassuringly at his partner. "Don't worry, I'll be over tomorrow for Christmas dinner, okay?" Quickly shifting the mood as he usually did, Riggs gave a short laugh. "Can you believe that crazy old man called me a hippie?" he asked in disbelief.

Roger snorted. "Well, Riggs, your hair is the longest it's ever been since I've known you. A haircut wouldn't be out of order."

Martin fixed Roger with a glacier stare. "Crap, now you're sounding like Murphy. Why's everyone gotta bug me about my hair?" Not waiting for an answer, he growled, "Fine, let's just get out of here before I end up shooting someone."

With anyone else, a person would be safe in assuming that the statement was just a joke, but experience had taught Roger better. His face hardened into a deep scowl as they started walking again. "One of these days, Riggs, you are gonna have to learn not to handle every situation with violence."

Martin hesitated in mid-step and Roger was surprised to see that the man actually appeared hurt by his statement. "I don't handle every situation with violence," he said, his voice sounding as upset as his expression. "What about that perp I apprehended just last week?"

Roger stared at him, too incredulous to speak for a moment. Taking in a calming breath, he did his best to compose himself before replying, quietly enunciating each word with great emphasis, "Riggs… you hit him in the head with a bowling ball."

"Well, I didn't shoot him now, did I?" Riggs looked quite pleased with himself over this fact but his partner didn't seem to share the same opinion. He, however, was oblivious to this fact as he started to giggle to himself. "Yep, that was quite a strike I threw, huh? I should probably join a bowling team. Maybe it would keep me out of trouble."

Knowing that nothing would ever accomplish that feat, Roger just sighed as he muttered, "Ya know what part of your problem is?"

"You mean I only have one problem?"

Roger ignored Martin's query. He knew good and well that that was a question he wasn't going to touch with a ten foot pole. "Part of your problem," he continued, "is that you actually think that's an accomplishment - nearly knocking the guy's brains out with a 15 pound bowling ball rather than shooting him or snapping his neck." Jogging over to one side, Roger began weaving through a group of shoppers, Riggs one step behind him. "You have to know," the older man continued, "that the Department and Woods still keep an eagle eye on you … especially…" his voice dropped low, "… especially after … everything."

The cocky grin on Riggs' face disappeared briefly but quickly returned, his jaw stuck out defiantly. "Yeah, I know she's still drooling at the thought of getting rid of me but I'm not going anywhere." The tone of his voice showed that he didn't think the department shrink was anyone he needed to concern himself with. Roger, of course, had enough worry to go around for the both of them.

"Hmm hmm…" the older detective murmured noncommittally. After a moment's pause, he added, "You won't have a choice in the matter if you don't drop your number of shooting incidents."

"Well, that's why I used the BOWLING BALL!" Riggs' voice had grown loud with frustration, causing several people nearby to look over in their direction.

"Fine, fine!" Roger quickly decided to just drop the subject. After all, it was Christmas and the last thing he wanted to do was bring up something that would send Martin off the deep-end.

Riggs meanwhile had jumped ahead of his partner, his head swiveling from side to side as he tried to find the nearest exit. The unexpected detour that their talk had veered into had gotten him even more agitated and ready to get out of this hell-hole. Suddenly spotting a nearby exit, he began pushing through the crowd, making a beeline for it, Roger following behind him.

They hadn't been able to find a present for Trish but they had made it through the shopping gauntlet without injury to themselves and most importantly, without Riggs injuring anyone. All in all, Roger considered the evening a rousing success. Of course, that was the last thought he had time for before the fire alarm went off and the gunshots started.