Christmas 1987

Note: Answer to Lanie's challenge to write a one-shot about one of the secondary SMK characters and how they're spending Christmas or New Year's Eve.


This was, Effrom Beaman thought as he dodged behind a concrete pillar to avoid getting shot, his best Christmas ever. The bullet hit the corner of the pillar. Tiny pieces of concrete shrapnel went flying, one of them cutting his cheek. Good thing he was wearing glasses – at least his eyes were protected.

How often had that thug fired at him? He had lost track and cursed himself for it. How often had he been told to be mindful of such things? You couldn't go after an adversary when you didn't know whether he had any bullets left. That kind of thing might kill you faster than you could say "Freeze!"

Effrom peered around the pillar and quickly withdrew his head when the other guy took another shot at him. The next thing he heard was the click of a hammer into an empty chamber and a soft curse in Russian.

Now or never.

He dodged around the pillar, sprinted to where the Russian guy was hunkered down between two cars, across the parking deck of the garage, and kicked his gun from his hand just as he was about to snap a new magazine into it. The Russian guy sprang to his feet with another curse. Effrom didn't give him a chance to act. He drove his fist into the Russian's face with as much force as he could muster. The Russian crashed to the floor like a felled tree.

Effrom winced and shook his hand. He'd have to work on this some more but for now it was good enough. He took the Russian's gun and the magazine the guy had dropped, loaded the gun and put it away, making sure the safety was on. He didn't want it to go off in his pocket. Then he cuffed the Russian's hands behind his back, dragged him over to the wall and leaned him against it in a sitting position.

Oh yes, this definitely was a much better way to spend Christmas than his usual marathon of all his favourite Christmas movies and ordering in food because he didn't want to have to bother with cooking. Spending Christmas with the family only worked every now and then since his mother had moved halfway across the country to live with his oldest sister and her family. This year, it hadn't, which was why he had been available on short notice for this assignment here. Which was why, within the last thirty minutes, he had been shot at, had been chasing Russians through what felt like half of D.C. on foot – it had only been a few blocks but by the time they had reached this parking garage his lungs had been on fire and he had made a mental note to add a daily running session to his list of New Year's resolutions to build up stamina – had almost been run over by a car and shot at again. Oh, and had in all likelihood hurt his hand but that didn't matter. None of this mattered. This still was his best Christmas ever because –

"Did you get him?" he heard his partner's voice behind him.

He turned around and stepped aside to reveal the knocked-out Russian.

Francine gave him an appreciative not.
"Well done."

Not nearly as well as she, Effrom thought. She was the one hauling around a bear of a guy about twice her size who seemed thoroughly intimidated by her.

"Let's get them back to the Agency", she said.

Effrom turned back to the Russian to shake him awake and finally did allow that huge, shit-eating grin to spread over his face that he had been holding back until now.

It was Christmas, he was on an assignment that really did require some actual field work, Francine was here – and for once he had not made a complete fool of himself in front of her.

Oh yes, life couldn't possibly be any better.