The house was full of boxes. Opened boxes, closed boxes, half-empty ones, and full ones. If any sane person walked into the Arroyo's house right now, they would assume he was moving out. Moving out, or preparing to have a yard sale in the subzero temperatures.
It had been almost a year now. A whole year.
A whole year since Jackie had been gone.
He hated that it hadn't felt longer. It should have felt longer, right?
The house always had seemed more full around the holidays with her around, even when he was taking late patrols, and didn't stay in for more than hours at a time. There was always a radio belting holiday tunes, the smell of cookies in the oven, and lights twinkling cheerfully along the banister.
Now, there was just him in an empty house, staring at boxes filled with icicle lights and spare ornaments, wondering if it was worth the effort to actually decorate when there would be no one to enjoy it, when Jackie was gone, and the Whitley kids were busy with school, and when no one really came around anyway. He had grieved, all those months ago, but Christmas Eve felt like tearing at a wound that had just scabbed over. He had barely gotten through Thanksgiving, and that had mainly been because Jessica invited him over.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling in the New York streets, breaking the trance that had seemed to fall over the city. Already, the perfect white was starting to stain as snow plows and other cars cleared the streets.
Gil sighed and rubbed his eyes. He would have to figure out a way to schedule his patrols so he just wouldn't notice, maybe work overtime, that wouldn't hurt, would it? Resigning himself to one night of Christmas movies and memories, he forced himself up, ignoring the boxes, and settled down on the sofa. He was just reaching for the remote when, quite distinctly, he heard the doorbell ring. He wasn't expecting anyone, obviously, so he was about to dismiss it when the bell rang again, softer this time, as if someone had just brushed their fingers against it. He tossed the remote down on the sofa, weaved his way through the boxes, and opened the door to reveal a small figure, wrapped only in a scarf and a light jacket.
"Malcolm?" Gil squinted at the boy, not even trying to keep the concerned tone out of his voice, "What are you doing out here? It's freezing!"
He quickly ushered Malcolm inside, trying not to worry as he felt the kid's thin shoulders wrack with shivers. Once Malcolm was wrapped in a sufficient amount of blankets, Gil dug through the pantry, coming up with a few only slightly expired boxes of cookies, and a packet of instant hot chocolate.
He really needed to get some groceries.
Malcolm was in middle school, still small for his age, but now, he looked even smaller, huddled under all those blankets. Nevertheless, he was sporting pink cheeks and a small smile. Christmas had been hard for the Whitley family ever since Martin had been arrested, but Gil was glad to see Malcolm still could enjoy parts of the holiday.
He handed Malcolm a mug of hot chocolate and took a cookie for himself, then sat across the table.
"So," he started, looking at Malcolm expectantly.
Malcolm nodded along with him, gulping down his hot chocolate. He didn't look like he wanted to join the conversation anytime soon, but Gil waited anyway. Jackie had been better at getting him to talk.
After a moment, though, Malcolm set the mug down and looked around the room, taking in the boxes and the quiet. He frowned up at Gil.
"Where's the tree?"
Gil sighed and leaned forward. He didn't know if Malcolm would understand, but he would explain, at least. He owed the kid that, at least.
He owed the kid so much more.
Before he could even open his mouth, though, Malcolm was already apologizing.
"Sorry, Gil, I get it. Mom didn't put up any decorations after-"
He cut himself off, staring into his empty mug. Gil swallows a mouthful of cookie and stares at the table. There's not much he can say to that.
"Are you busy?" Malcolm asked suddenly, "Because if you are, it's okay, I can head back home-"
"Does your mom know you're out here?" Gil cut in, raising an eyebrow at Malcolm, who nodded a bit too quickly.
"Of course!" he paused, avoiding Gil's gaze, "Fine, she doesn't, but that's the point!"
Gil laughed and shook his head, chewing the last of the cookie. Even expired, they weren't half-bad. He made a mental note to get more.
"Come on," he motioned to Malcolm, grabbing a coat and tossing one of his old ones at the kid, "I'll drive you back."
"She's at a Christmas Eve Party with Ainsley," Malcolm said, wrapping the coat around him. It was meant to just cover the torso, but it hung off him like a tunic. He looked like a kid playing dress-up, "But that's why I'm here! I needed to sneak out when they weren't at home!"
"And why's that?" Gil paused in front of the door, jamming a hat on his head, and staring back at Malcolm, who looked at him like he had grown an extra head.
"Presents? I couldn't buy them until now, because Mom's been hovering, but I need to get her something, and Ainsley, and you, of course. Maybe something for one of my teachers."
Gil's jaw dropped, just a little bit, as he stared at Malcolm.
"You walked across the city, in the snow, because you wanted to go Christmas shopping for us?"
"Yup!" that small smile lit up on Malcolm's face again, so bright and hopeful. How was Gil supposed to say anything to that? The kid riffled through his pants pockets before pulling out a wallet, stuffed with bills. "Don't worry, I didn't steal it, I've been saving up."
Gil shook his head, hiding his smile with his scarf. "I guess I don't have to arrest you, then." The kid stared up at him with blue pleading eyes, and he finally caved.
"We'll stay out for a few hours, no more. I don't want to get you home after your mom."
Malcolm's whole face lit up, bright eyes flashing with glee.
"Merry Christmas, Gil!" he dashed down the icy stairs, leaving Gil to lock up, and jog behind him to catch a taxi.
They had made all the essential stops of holiday shopping, of course, at all of the retailers, so Malcolm could buy a special necklace set for his mom, and at the toy store, where he went overboard with Ainsley's presents. Gil pretended not to notice when the kid snuck away to buy him a present, and took the time to go find a watch for Malcolm. Something solid, like what a father would buy. A dark strap that could be fasted around his scrawny wrist, but would probably still fit him for a few more years. He threw in some earrings for Ainsley, and as an afterthought, grabbed two bags of hard candy, one bag of caramels. He was just about to go try and find Malcolm when he heard a familiar name being spoken near him.
"...Dr. Martin Whitley, also known as the Surgeon. Viewers will remember him from five years ago, when he was arrested by the NYPD on charges-"
A picture of Martin Whitley flashed on the screens of all the TVs in the department store, the entire wall displaying the Surgeon being led out of his house. He had to find Malcolm, now.
Dumping his items off to the side, Gil wove through the store's aisles. Malcolm had to be close to where they had been when they had been when they parted, but at the same time, Gil hoped that the kid had gone to the complete opposite side of the store. In the background, the new report still played on every single one of the TVs. He practically ran to the customer service desk in the electronics area. The employee there was a teenager, only a few years older than Malcolm himself.
"Can you turn that off?" Gil asked, a bit louder and more breathless than he was intending.
"...but for the families of the victims, this anniversary comes as a bittersweet time. Every holiday season, they must live with the loss-"
The employee winced and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, sir. They preset this kind of stuff, I don't have the remote." She looked at the screens, which now featured a large picture of the Whitley family, happy and all smiles, and shuddered. "He still gives me the creeps. I mean, I can't even imagine how all the families must feel. It's incredible how one person can cause so much suffering, you know?"
There was a crash from down the aisle that both of them whip their heads towards. Blessedly, the program changes to some children's Christmas movie. Gil gave the girl a quick nod and walked towards the noise.
"Malcolm?" he called, "It's just me, Gil. Are you over there?"
He waited, his heart in his throat, holiday tunes playing in the background, until a small voice replied back, "Yes."
Gil let out a breath and ran a hand over his face. There were shards of a mug on the ground, along with the packaging, which read "Mugshot Mug" on the top. The item image displayed a grumpy snowman getting his mugshot taken.
He swallowed hard and stared at the shards of the mug, then shook his head with a sad smile. "You still there, kid? Can you come out?"
The pause was shorter this time, and Gil could hear some shuffling down the aisle.
"Uh, could you just stay there?" Malcolm's voice cracked on the last syllable and Gil could hear part of a sob building up in his voice, "I'll be right out."
"Take your time, Malcolm," Gil settled on the ground, sweeping up the coffee cup with his hands so it wasn't in the center of the aisle, "We can stay here all night if you want."
"...What would my mom say?"
Gil smiled slightly at the shelf across him. "Well, I guess I'd make something up. The two of us, we can put our heads together, come up with a good excuse, can't we?"
Malcolm gave a weak giggle. "She'd see right through us before we could even explain!"
"Before we even said a word," Gil agreed solemnly.
They sat there in silence for a few moments before Malcolm spoke again.
"Gil?"
"Yeah, kid?"
"The people who my father...hurt, their families…." Malcolm had trouble forcing words past his lips, and Gil was worried the boy was going to spiral into another panic attack.
"Mal-"
"Do you think they'll ever have a good Christmas ever again? Because whenever I start being happy, I remember all those people, and it's been years, but they're never going to be happy ever again and-"
"Malcolm, take a breath," Gil instructed sternly, "I'm staying right here, but you need to breathe. Just breathe."
He could hear a few labored breaths, then a series of quick ones, then a few slow ones again. He remembered Malcolm telling him something about his therapist breathing exercises, and as long as the kid could calm down, he was all for it.
"I just can't stop thinking that it was all my fault," Malcolm's voice, still a little breathy, "It's all my fault that it's not the most wonderful time of the year, anymore."
Gil's features twisted with sadness. "Malcolm, none of what your father did was your fault. You did all you could, and time heals things. No one blames you, not one person."
Malcolm's head peeked out from behind a box of gaming systems, and Gil nearly sighed in relief as the boy came closer. He didn't seem to be on the verge of panicking anymore, but he did look unimaginably sad as he poked the remnants of the mug with his shoe.
"And I've ruined your Christmas now, too."
Gil nodded along. "You know, Malcolm, you're right." Malcolm frowned and turned to look at Gil, his eyes betraying his exhaustion and his hands shaking ever so slightly.
"Before you showed up on my doorstep earlier, I was planning on watching some old reruns, maybe reheat something I made for lunch a week before. Before you came, I was planning on having a Christmas alone, and without a tree or presents. Now, I get to spend it with someone."
He smiled at Malcolm. "That's what I care about. That's the best present of all."
Malcolm stared at Gil, his eyes watery, and before the older man could do anything, Malcolm shot into his arms clinging to him as if he was drowning. Gil hugged him back just as tightly, wondering where he would be without this incredible kid.
Malcolm pulled out of the hug a bit later, wiping his eyes discreetly and clearing his throat.
"Mom's going be so mad," he muttered, smiling slightly, "And I still have to find you another present."
"We can do that right now, " Gil replied, "Let me just grab my gifts and we can go where you need to next."
"We?" Malcolm asked, unimpressed, "I can go get it myself, I'm not a kid."
Gil nodded along, humoring him. "Of course, but then I wouldn't get to spend time with you. I promise I won't look."
He gave Malcolm a cheesy salute and pushed himself off the ground. "Scout's honor!"
Malcolm grinned, a real, genuine, wide smile this time. "You were never a scout!"
"Was to!"
They passed the girl at customer service and paid for the cup. Malcolm stared at her rather nervously, but she just grinned at him and pointed to his hands.
"Shaky hand?" she held out her wrist, which was shaking as well, "Me too. Anxiety hates everybody."
She rang up the item and slid the shards into the trash. "No charge for it. I won't tell if you won't."
Gil started to protest, but she just waved them away, looking to the next customer. Malcolm was a lot more cheerful after that. He made Gil turn away so he could pick out his gift, and they both made their purchases, and got them wrapped up.
The Whitley house was dark and quiet when the taxi pulled up, two things it would not be had Jessica been home. Malcolm gave Gil a quick grin as they exchanged presents, and after instructions to give Ainsley her present, he was off, scampering up the front steps and into the house with a cheery wave.
Later, when he was alone in the warmth of his house, Gil unwrapped the present Malcolm had got him. This time, the mug was dark blue, with simple lettering. It read, "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year". There was a police hat hanging off the last letter, and inside the mug was a single root beer lollipop. A small note read "Thank you." in careful handwriting, and for the first time since he lost Jackie, Gil allowed himself to think that everything would be alright.