AN: Due to popular demand, I'm adding an extra chapter in here. Since the Skitts/Snitch chapter is the "big finale", this chapter is Spot/Race.

                                                                                                                                               

Spot

            "Lieutenant Riker, reporting in, sir!"

            I looked up from all the paperwork spread out on the rickety table in front of me, eyeing the Lieutenant like a wolf would eye an injured rabbit. He was twenty minutes late in reporting to me, and in wartime, that was court marshal material.

            "Riker, when were you supposed to report?"

            "2000 hours, sir!"

            "And what time is it right now?"

            "2020 hours, sir!"

            "You're late. Twenty minutes."

            "I'm sorry, sir. I just-"

            "I don't want to hear your damn excuses!"

            Riker froze like a deer in the headlights. He knew he was in deep shit with me.

            I decided to feed off his fear and see if he needed to be demoted. "And what if an Iraqi missile had been headed toward our camp and I needed you to start a counterstrike? Would you have been twenty minutes late then, Riker?" I asked, getting right up in his face.

            He shook his head fiercely. "No, sir. Of course not, sir!"

            "One minute could've killed all the men in this camp. In twenty minutes they could've obliterated the whole fucking United States Marine force if every joke for a Lieutenant like you decided to be late. Are you getting the picture?"

            "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, sir."

            "It had better not."

            A strong gust of wind lifted the edges of the tent, and for a moment I worried that it as going to blow away, but the stakes held it in the ground. I circled back around the desk, wondering if Riker was going to piss on himself now.

            He was holding firm. I was proud of the poor guy for that much.

            "Riker, I expect your complete and error-proof report on the contact with the 101st by first thing in the morning. Understood?"

            "Yes, sir."

            "Good. Get out of my sight, Lieutenant."

            "Yes, sir."

            With that said, he saluted and scurried out of the tent. If he had a tail, it would've been between his legs the whole way out. I collapsed into my hair, looking at all the charts and maps in front of me.

            None of them mattered. Not as long as I was ten thousand miles away from Racetrack.

            "Captain Conlon?"

            I looked up again, and a Private stood in the doorway of my tent, his arms too full of packages to salute. I let him off the hook this time; it was Christmas Eve, and he had dozens of packages to deliver to soldiers from their homes.

            "Yes, Private?"

            "You have a package. Do you want it now, or at the party tonight?"

            "I'll take it now." I wasn't planning on going to that drunken rave of a party anyway.

            He handed the small package to me, and I restrained my enthusiasm and set it aside until he left the tent. But as soon as he was gone it was back in my hands, and I was tearing it open as fast as I could.

            The return address said it was from Cherrywood Street, New York City. That meant it was from Race.

            I realized that it was a CD as I pulled it out, but it was plain, a gold CD with no writing on it whatsoever. I frowned in confusion, but my curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed my bag and opened it, feeling around for my walkman and yanking it out.

            Race had never sent me more than a letter. Sure, there had been those few times where he'd sent me photographs, but a CD…this was totally new.

            I put it in and pulled on the headphones, and the display told me that there was only one song on the CD. I held my breath as I pressed the play button, wondering what newest song he'd recorded off the radio for me. Maybe a new 'fad song' in America or something.

            I was stunned when I heard Race's voice.

            "This song is all for you, Spot. All for you."

            With that, he began to sing, and I bit my lip to keep from crying.

I'll have a blue christmas without you
I'll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green christmas tree
Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me

And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That's when those blue memories start calling
You'll be doin' all right, with your christmas of white
But I'll have a blue, blue blue blue christmas

You'll be doin' all right, with your christmas of white,
But I'll have a blue, blue Christmas

            As the song finished up, I had one thought; I just might go to that Christmas party after all. Otherwise I'd be crying all night long.

                                                                                                                                               

AN: Sorry, no shout out's this time. No time right now…maybe in the next chapter. Probably. I think. Next chapter is the big finale! Skittery/Snitch fluff!