Epilogue All I want for Christmas

So this is Christmas…and what have you done…another year over…a new one just begun…

Wow. Now there was a happy thought. Steve gazed thoughtfully at the stereo, wondering if there was any way to shut it off without actually bothering to get up. Maybe a well-aimed pillow…

…and so this is Christmas…I hope you have fun…the near and the dear ones…the old and the young…

Or maybe not. He relaxed back into the sofa. That was a sort of nice sentiment. Besides, Dad would be really irritated if he broke the stereo. That drew his thoughts to the kitchen, where he could hear his father rustling about. "You sure you don't want some help?" he called.

"By the time you 'help', using that Return of the Mummy walk, I could be done three times over," Mark replied briskly.

"Frankenstein," Steve corrected, with immense dignity.

"Well, I knew I'd seen it in something Boris Karloff."

"Just remember that I offered!" Steve settled back again, lifting his feet slowly onto a handy nearby carton and getting really comfortable.

"Hold that thought. I'm sure I'll want your help tomorrow."

…a very merry Christmas…and a happy new year…let's hope it's a good one…without any fear…

Yeah. He could get into that idea. No fear. Oh, wait -

"I forgot to tell you - I invited Newman for dinner."

…and so this is Christmas…for weak and for strong… the rich and the poor ones…the road is so long…

Huh. Nice. That was sort of what he was working for. The road did seem long sometimes - on days like today, very long - but maybe it was worth it. Maybe it hadn't been such a lousy way to spend Christmas Eve after all. Maybe it had even been kind of worthwhile.

"That's nice. I wondered if we'd be expecting any lonely hearts."

Steve glanced at the kitchen doorway. "Hey, don't look at me. You're the one who's a sucker for every hard luck story to come down the pike. I keep trying to tell you how dangerous that is."

…and so happy Christmas…for black and for white…for the yellow and red ones…let's all stop the fight…

Mark appeared in the doorway, drying an empty punch glass. "And you, of course, are impervious - just a hard-boiled homicide cop."

'That's right," Steve agreed with satisfaction.

"Mm hm." Mark drifted back to the sink. "So, who else did you invite?"

"Karen Petrillo." If there had been any irony in Mark's voice, then it was lost on Steve. "The nurse practitioner who patched me up. She even went and got me sweatpants - it was the least I could do! Besides, she was planning on spending the day with her cats. What kind of Christmas is that?"

"Of course." Mark sounded politely indulgent. "What did she say about your condition, by the way?"

Steve hesitated, his hand going automatically to his head. "Well, she did say that I should probably - have a CAT scan at some point…I don't have to go to the hospital tonight, do I Dad?" Steve suspected that that had come out sounding a whole lot like a whiny five-year-old, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Oh, I suppose it could wait until tomorrow, since you're conscious and alert," Mark's voice carried over the sound of running water. "For tonight we can do it the good old-fashioned way. That means waking you up every hour or so to make sure you're oriented. It'll be my revenge for all those Christmas mornings you and Carol woke your mother and me up every few hours to see if it was time to open gifts yet."

Steve didn't smile. "That means that you'll have to be awake every hour, too. I'll set an alarm."

"What good will that do without someone to ask you who the president of the United States is? No, no - I claim this pleasure for myself. Jesse checked you out, didn't he?"

"Yeah…" Steve stretched his legs a little, testing them. "He used some kind of skin closures a pharmaceutical girl with long eyelashes foisted on him - I'm telling you this in case I wake up with gangrene or something."

"Really?" Mark was back in the doorway, rubbing out another glass and looking interested. "I've been wanting to try that product out. It's supposed to be an excellent alternative to stitches or staples - I'll have to monitor how it does."

Steve hid a half-smile. "I'm just a human petri dish to you guys, aren't I?"

"Well," Mark held the glass up to the light to be sure it was now smudge-free. "You give us so many opportunities for testing."

"Nice." Steve watched him return to the kitchen and then bent his head for a sip of the cocoa he was nursing in his curled hands.

"Anybody else coming that I don't know about?" Mark called back over his shoulder.

Steve considered. "I don't think so. I would have asked that suitcase lady if somebody had bothered to keep track of her. I would have liked to have given her a commendation - or at least a big kiss. All those cops milling around, and the only reason we didn't lose the guy was because of her. I hope she found her suitcase at least."

"Mm."

Steve could hear the snap of a dishtowel from the kitchen.

"What was in that suitcase, anyway?"

"Body parts," Steve answered matter-of-factly, taking another sip of his cocoa.

Mark returned to the doorway, his face screwed up in disgust. "You're kidding."

Steve shook his head. "Nope. He was trying to get his girlfriend's remains over the state line. Takes a special kind of cold heart to dismember somebody you've slept with."

Mark shuddered, returning to the kitchen. "Not to mention how unsanitary."

"Yeah, that was my main concern too. I yelled, 'Stop, in the name of hygiene!'"

"You behave, young man, or Santa will be leaving coal in your stocking."

Steve grinned, even though his father couldn't see him. Come to think of it, he should be downstairs wrapping his lame airport gifts right now. He lifted his feet slowly and nudged the carton out of the way to give himself room for his newly acquired monster-movie stance, then paused, staring at the Fed-Ex label on the box. You know, there was something kind of familiar…

He moved closer for a better look, measuring the size with his eyes, saw that it was addressed to him. He bent cautiously, trying to get a glimpse of the name of the sender. He caught sight of a small logo image and a wave of joyful relief washed through him. Now it was really Christmas.

…a very merry Christmas…and a happy new year…let's hope it's a good one…without any fear…

"Hey!" he called into the kitchen. "Hey, guess what? Your present! It got here after all!"

"I never doubted it would for a minute." Mark's voice floated back, serenely confident.

Steve sank back on the couch, warmed with a sudden Christmas glow. "Well, you know how it is - you can never be sure with the Christmas mail."

There was a pause from the kitchen.

"Oh. The package. Yes, I'm sure that's very nice too."

THE END

A/N: Thanks for reading - I truly appreciate it. Helps me get over my fear of posting comedy, if this is indeed a comedy, which I can never quite make up my mind about. And while I may be too late to wish you all a Merry Christmas, I figure it's never too late to wish you a wonderful New Year, full of many joys.

PS Knew you'd take her, Lisa. Strategy beats bulk every time.