hm. so seeing as how my calculations have failed me - i wanted the 12th day to be on christmas day but now it seems that it'll be on christmas eve - i decided to make a little epilogue to take place on the 25th. besides, i made a prologue too, so it'd make sense, right?

well, here it is, chapter nine. got 4 more to go! :]


December 20th

Ryan was running late. It wasn't like him to be off schedule, but it wasn't like his usually dependable car to just burst a tire, either.

So when he got to the Crime Lab an hour later than he had anticipated, everything was going wrong.

He had to leave his car at the convenience store, where it would wait approximately 3 hours before the towing company could bring it to the lab. The weather just happened to spike up when he was walking back to work, so he was sweating like crazy and would probably get sick as soon as the A/C cools his perspiration. To top it all off, his present for Calleigh was only half-fulfilled, and he still hasn't written her a letter.

Oh, and Rick Stetler just ran into him in the front lobby. Ryan was caught off guard by the sudden crash; he was too busy thinking of how to fix everything in time.

"Hey, man. Watch it!" The grocery bags Ryan was carrying almost flew out of his hands and it took a few seconds for him to regain his balance.

"Sorry, sorry." Rick looked down and straightened his suit.

In chorus they made eye contact. Both sets of eyes darkened considerably.

"Stetler."

"Wolfe."

"Come here to be our own personal Scrooge? Getting ready to be the Grinch and steal Christmas from us?" Haha! He'd been waiting the whole year to say that!

Rick's eyes narrowed into thin slits. He tilted his head slightly and crossed his arms. "Actually, no. I was planning on doing a good deed today, but since it's clear I'm not wanted here, I think I'll just leave."

Ryan snorted. "The chances of the words 'Rick Stetler' and 'doing a good deed' being in the same sentence are slim to none, and I'm leaning towards less than none. So What do you really want, Rick?"

The IAB agent took this as his cue. He took a deep breath; it's not everyday Rick Stetler did something for the good of humanity. "I just wanted to give you a heads up about your car."

"My car? What about it?"

Rick could not seem to move his mouth under the hard stare Ryan was giving him, so he prodded more. "What did you do to my car?"

"… I may have switched one of the tires."

"May have? There's no 'may have', here, buddy. Either it's 'you did' or 'you didn't'. And let me tell you something: the second choice is the one you're gonna wanna pick, because it's the one that won't have your nose broken."

"Well, as long as you don't use it, I can still swap the tires. Yours is in the garage right now."

The older man could swear Ryan had smoke fuming out of this ears and nostrils. "Oh yeah, sure thing, Rick. You totally could just exchange the wheels. Only one of them's not working anymore. You wanna know why? Because you didn't tell me early enough, and I drove my car to the store, and the tire burst! You want the tire back? You're gonna have to pick up the pieces of rubber on the damn streets."

By this time Rick could feel air escaping Ryan's nostrils due to the close proximity. He may have been some inches shorter, but Rick was definitely scared of what he could do. He was a CSI; he could easily hide his body.

"Why'd you do it anyway? Wait, you know what? I don't even want to know."

He held his hands in surrender and stepped back. Rick was never good with closed spaces. "All right, all right, Wolfe. I'll pay for the towing service."

"Damn right you will. And you're real lucky I won't be arresting you for robbery. There's something you can do for me that'll save you from being locked up during Christmas."

"Gee, thanks, Wolfe. That may be the best Christmas present anyone's ever gotten me." Rick had dipped his comment in obvious sarcasm.

"Your cynicism won't be helping your case, Stetler. And I'm pretty sure this is the only present you've ever gotten your whole life, so be grateful. Or at least pretend you're thankful."

--

Calleigh was ready for a break. She and Natalia finally closed their bloater case, and a break was as close to a perfect reward as she could get while she was still on the clock.

The break room counter was usually supposed to be clear. But this time it was covered in containers and bags of all sorts of shapes. Calleigh walked closer, examining the food.

There were brown paper bag lunches, cans of soda, water bottles, salad dressing bottles, Tupperwares full of leftovers, loaves of bread; it was almost as if the whole fridge was emptied. Calleigh noticed that most of them had the words PROPERTY OF ERIC DELKO; DO NOT TOUCH, WOLFE/COOPER scribbled on them, and if it didn't, it said COOPER'S instead.

Calleigh smirked. There could only be one person behind this little scheme: Ryan Wolfe.

She pulled open the refrigerator, hoping to find something inside from him. There was an envelope that rested on several cartons of milk. Eight, to be exact. And Calleigh already knew what was coming.

To the Bullet Girl,

Can you believe I never called you that before? I think it's kind of odd.

You better read this letter quick, before the food I oh-so-graciously left on the counter starts to turn bad. I don't have another bathtub filled with lemon water for you to soak in. So, without further ado, today's the eighth day.

On the eighth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Eight maids-a-milking

You'll notice eight cartons of milk in the fridge. Obviously, those are yours. They're chocolate soy milk – I know the flavor's your favorite because if it's not water or coffee, it's the only other thing you drink.

I apologize in advance for one of them already being open. See, my car burst a tire and I had to walk back to the lab on foot. The weather just happened to spike during my expedition and my throat got a little dry. I hope you don't mind.

Calleigh searched for the opened carton and took it out. Suddenly she felt like having some chocolate soy milk.

So the milk covers the milking part of today's verse. At first I was stuck with what to do with the maids section, but it worked itself out. There's another letter attached with this one; take a little look-see at it.

From the… we need a nickname for me.

Calleigh laughed softly, then flipped the page.

Miss Duquesne, I am writing this as proof that I, Rick Stetler, offer my services to you, in return to a favor Mr. Wolfe has provided me. I shall gladly give your company car – the Hummer assigned under your name – a carwash with my own hands for a total of eight times.

Should you be dissatisfied with my work, please consult with Mr. Wolfe and he shall contemplate on a reasonable punishment for my lack of cleanliness.

- Rick Stetler

At the bottom of that page, Ryan's familiar handwriting said:

Stetler's your personal maid when it concerns your car. How I got him to do this, you will never know.

Calleigh smiled (she liked how much more she smiled after reading his letters), and made sure to keep Stetler's letter in a safe place for proof. Then she took her half-carton of soy milk and left the room, determined not to return until the inevitable smell of rotting food was non-existent.

On second thought, maybe she should take a couple more cartons. Getting rid of the smell might take a while.


cross your fingers - & your toes if you can! - that i finish the last four chapters by the end of today. if not, it'll be early early morning of the 29th.

so, leave as many reviews as you can! they're my red bull/gatorade/nutella, in case you'd like to know. i work faster when there's lots of comments! ;]