Celebrate Me Home
by Imajiru
imajiru@mindspring.com
imajiru@unicorn-x.net
December 9, 1995

She heated up a microwave dinner and ate it in front of her 
Christmas tree, absently watching the blinking lights.  All 
alone on Christmas Eve... hard to feel festive. 

She wondered what Nick was doing tonight.  She hadn't felt 
comfortable asking.  All these years, and yet somehow she 
couldn't...  The first few years she'd known him, she'd 
gone away for the holidays -- to her parents' place, to 
Richie's; but now, there was really nowhere for her to go.  
If it had been a year ago, she would have frankly admitted 
her solitude to Nick, found out if he wanted to make 
plans... but it was now, and there were things she just 
couldn't tell Nick anymore. 

In the past few months, he'd almost left town, left *her* -
- he'd almost, finally, loved her (and oh, the nights when 
she'd berated herself for not letting him!) -- for the 
first time ever, she'd looked into his eyes and seen 
nothing but the killer, and had truly been afraid of him. 
In odd ways, they were closer than they'd ever been; yet 
there was also a gaping chasm separating them, and she 
simply could not bring herself to reach out and close the 
gap. 

And so she was alone.  On Christmas Eve. 

He hadn't even given her a present. 

She'd had one for him, gift-wrapped in her desk for the 
past week, twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-fourth, and 
he hadn't so much as come to see her; once she'd talked 
with Tracy, long enough to hand over the latest test 
results on something-or-other, but Nick hadn't come by at 
all.  She could have gone to the precinct, yeah, invented 
some plausible pretext for the visit... but she would have 
known the truth.  She would have known that she was going 
to see him because she was anxious, nay, desperate, for the 
sound of his voice, for one glimpse of his face, 
anything... 

One thing to *be* that susceptible to Nick.  Another matter 
entirely to accept it. 

Alone.  Alone, and hating it; missing all the people, all 
the things she'd lost.  Mourning all the deaths, as well as 
the irretrievable passage of the easy friendship she'd once 
shared with Nick, the casual intimacy that would have 
allowed her to pick up the phone and call him without 
feeling awkward or strange.  They'd sacrificed that 
friendship in favor of love -- but it was a love that they 
could never truly share.  She knew that now, as she'd never 
truly known it before. 

Theirs was a hopeless case, a love that could never be... 

All at once, there was a tapping noise against her window; 
she jumped up and went to see what had caused the sound, 
damning herself for the sudden surge of hope that had 
rushed through her. 

The tapping came again as she reached the window, the clink 
of an object impacting with glass; she opened the window, 
looked out, and down. 

Nick was standing there on the sidewalk, knee-deep in snow 
and apparently oblivious to it; fair hair tousled by the 
wind, he looked positively angelic as he gazed up at her.  
"Natalie!" he called up to her.  "Wherefore art thou, 
Natalie?" 

She laughed; she had no choice.  "You're doing the girl's 
part,"  she pointed out. 

His mischievous grin was evidence that he knew how badly 
he'd mangled the quote, and didn't much care.  "Call it a 
bold new experiment in drama," he said lightly.  "What're 
you doing?" 

"Nothing," she responded, after only a moment's hesitation. 

He kicked at a snowdrift, looking for all the world like a 
little boy.  "Want to come out and play?" 

In that moment, leaning out of her living room window and 
shivering, she felt as if their days of easy camaraderie 
had returned, for one brief shining instant.  As if no 
misery, no heartbreak, no disappointments had ever come 
between them.  As if they were still the same two people 
who'd watched movies together all day and had popcorn 
fights... 

"I'll be right down," said Natalie, and closed the window. 

Less than six minutes later she was emerging from her 
building, securely bundled up against the cold, in coat and 
hat and scarf and gloves.  "You're dressed warmly," Nick 
said.  "Good." 

"Why?" Natalie asked curiously. 

"Because," Nick said serenely.  He took a quick step toward 
her, slid his arms around her before she had a chance to 
protest, or even decide whether she wanted to.  "Hold on 
tight," he told her. 

"Why?" she began to inquire, but never got the chance; all 
at once there was a sensation of movement, a sudden lurch 
and the harsh slap of chill air against her, and a funny 
weightless feeling... 

She looked around -- and down, and down, and down. 

"Don't worry," Nick's lips brushed against her ear as he 
spoke, slowly and clearly so as to be heard above the 
roaring of the wind.  "I won't let you fall." 

But she knew that already: she could feel his immense 
strength, clinging to her with quiet determination, 
enfolding her in a sense of utter security.  "I know," she 
whispered, and knew he'd heard her when his grip tightened 
just a bit more. 

Her own embrace was weak and pliant beside his; but she 
held on to him anyway, because what else could she do?  
From the first moment she'd set eyes on his living form, 
there had been no letting go... 

"What's going on, Nick?" she wondered aloud, almost afraid 
to question the sudden magic that had entered her bleak 
life. 

His lips pressed against her forehead briefly.  "This has 
never been a very good holiday for me," he said softly.  "I 
thought... it might be better if I spent it with my closest 
friend." 

"Oh, Nick..."  Warmth flooded her in a tangible wave, all 
the warmth she hadn't felt earlier, sitting before her 
Christmas tree forlornly, surrounded by the cold ache of 
solitude.  "Where are we going?"  she queried softly. 

"Someplace special," he said.  "As special as you are to 
me."  And his lips brushed against her own, the kind of 
gentle kiss that was all he dared allow himself. 

But it was enough.  More than enough.  It was a small, 
sweet taste of heaven that she'd despaired of ever knowing 
again, only a few scant minutes ago. 

"Okay," she whispered, fighting to keep her tone level, 
struggling to keep the tears of happiness from her face and 
her voice. 

She closed her eyes against the fierce wind, rested her 
head against Nick's shoulder, and thought about the miracle 
she'd received -- the miracle of love, and of hope -- and 
knew that whatever happened from that point forward, it 
would be a very merry Christmas after all. 


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