Hey, hey, hey. Now that the technical difficulties seemed to have been resolved, I found a bit of extra time to work on publishing this story. It's an oldie and fairly long compared to some of my others. It will take you to some pretty dark places even. Enjoy!

Mike Stone leaned back against the bench seat of the Galaxy, his watchful eyes drifting over the deserted one-way road ahead. Hands clasped in his lap and kept warm by the comfort of his black overcoat, he sat there in stillness, slowly breathing in and out, as the minutes passed by.

2AM had struck not too long ago, as he continued his sentinel-like wait for their suspect to show. In a few hours, across many homes and apartments in this city he called his own, children would wake up, their eyes sparkling as they'd run downstairs to find presents under the tree, drinking milk and eating cookies while enjoying the holiday with their families.

And…in a bizarre sort of way, he was doing the same.

Curled up in his beige overcoat after the Galaxy had started to cool off, Steve was sleeping peacefully right next to him, his head leaning against the bench seat of the car, the occasional twitch of his eyebrow signaling that he was far away in dreamland. Mike smiled faintly, grateful that he had a partner who could snap from wide awake to deep REM sleep in a matter of minutes, a trait invaluable in their line of work.

And it was the young Inspector, he'd spend his Christmas Day morning with.

As their day turned thirty-six hours old, even Mike was beginning to feel the exhaustion in every sinew of his body. Like every year, he'd hoped to spend the holiday at home, with Jeanie, reliving cherished family traditions that warmed his heart and reminded him of his late wife. And yet strangely, for the past few years and for one reason or another, he'd spend it on the job; doing stakeouts, conducting investigations, interviewing witnesses or bird-dogging evidence.

Mike sighed, part of him taking pride in the fact that for this one particular precious holiday, he was the one keeping his city safe. The other part, the father and widower inside him, missed the tree, the church service, the cheer in his daughter's eyes as she opened her presents, feeling the love and Christmas spirit in the otherwise dull and solitary corners of the DeHaro house.

It was a funny coincidence that this year, Jeanie, with pleading eyes and a shaky voice, asked if it was alright to spend the holiday with Eric's parents and come over the following week. Eric Bexley, being the young man, she had met in Arizona two short years ago, seemed to quickly captivate his daughters' heart, and even though his multiple R&I requests had yielded nothing suspicious about him, Mike still wasn't warming up to the idea of his beloved daughter hanging out with another man.

Especially over the holidays.

As fate would have it, when he asked Steve what the young Inspector's plans were for Christmas, and received the same empty and lonely shrug that had been Mike's trademark for the season, he'd made a decision.

If neither one of them would spend Christmas with their loved ones or doing something profoundly enjoyable, at least they could ensure that their colleagues did. And better yet, at least neither detective would be spending the holiday alone.

So, he'd signed them up for stakeout duty on the Homer Gibson murder case belonging to Tanner and Lessing.

Several hours into their patient wait, Mike had both, grown amused and slightly annoyed at tapping his partner's arm each time the young Inspector's eyes started to drift shut. They'd tried everything from walking a few yards in the brisk night air, to drinking another cup of coffee, to sharing Christmas stories of celebrations past. But after way too many hours of double duty, both of their bodies were beginning to surrender to the exhaustion.

Deciding to give Steve a short and well-deserved reprieve; he had allowed the young Inspector to nod off for an hour, hoping it would be enough to allow them to push through until the end of their assignment around six in the morning.

No sooner had he said those words when Steve leaned back, stretched out, closed his eyes, and was dead to the world.

Half an hour into his slumber, Mike was beginning to miss his partner's soothing voice by his side. Rubbing his tired eyes as they were beginning to blur and burn, he scratched his forehead and reached for the Styrofoam cup on the dashboard, hoping the cold coffee would revitalize his senses once again.

What ended up doing the job was the radio springing to life.

"Headquarters to Inspectors 8-1, please respond."

The merciless wakeup call caused Steve to flinch violently, as he sat up straight long before he ever even woke up. Bleary green eyes stared back at Mike, needing a few seconds to gather their bearings, before the young Inspector fully came to.

Reaching for the radio, Mike smiled faintly, enjoying the moment almost as much as the treasured gift-opening of Christmas past. Pressing the button on the receiver, he cleared his throat.

"This is Inspectors 8-1, go ahead, Headquarters."

Long before the answer came, Mike could tell that the voice belonged to Reuben Longoria, one of the long-time dispatchers, running the morning holiday shift.

"Mike, we just received a call of a body found on Marshall's Beach up in the Presidio. Two clicks south of 101st. There's a uni waiting along Lincoln Boulevard to show you there. Inspectors Perez and Capuccio are on their way to relieve you and Steve. ETA is 4 min out."

Glancing over at his partner, Mike raised his eyebrows, before pressing the receiver button again.

"10-4 Headquarters, we'll respond upon rendezvous.", he hesitated, as he released the button and inhaled deeply, allowing his mind to take in their newest predicament, "One more thing, Headquarters."

"Go ahead, Mike."

"Merry Christmas, Reuben."

He could tell from the seconds of silence that the well-wish hadn't been expected. With nothing but a skeleton crew working during the holiday, most people had chosen to either ignore the festivities altogether, or celebrate in the loneliness of their office. Mike was certain that somewhere in the command center of dispatch was a tiny little Christmas tree and a good man in his mid-fifties who'd put his duty before being home with his family this morning, even if it broke his heart.

"Merry Christmas to you and Steve too, Mike. Gods speed, you guys!"