No fangs, no blood and not a whole lot of plot.  Just a
character study/Christmas story featuring Stonetree.
If this isn't your cuppa, delete now.
 
*<:-) Holly hippodays.
Siobhan
 
=======================================================
Peace to All Men of Goodwill
    a _Forever Knight_ Christmas vignette
              by Siobhan
 
Stonetree was on volunteer phone duty at the 37th
precinct when Nat came in.  He'd made a brief
obligatory appearance at the Christmas party, filled a
plate with goodies, and returned to the phones again.
There was nothing like having the boss around to put a
damper on a party, and his guys and gals deserved their
fun.  He left them to it.
 
"Change in your job description?"  Nat asked, shaking
the snow out of her hair, and depositing her carefully-
balanced stack of Christmas tins and boxes on the desk.
 
"Very funny," Stonetree grunted.  "What's all this?"
 
"I made the mistake of mentioning that I'd be in this
neck of the woods, so Nick and Schanke loaded me down
with presents to deliver.  I guess it's pretty dull
around here without them, hmmm?"
 
"You kidding?  I'm enjoying the peace and quiet."
 
Nat selected three items from the stack and handed them
to Stonetree.  "These are for you."
 
"Thanks," he said, and started at the top of the small
pile, opening a tin decorated with cats and Christmas
wreaths.  "Pfferneusse?"  His face lit up like a little
kid's.
 
Nat smiled.  "I remembered how much you liked them when
I made some for the party last year."
 
Stonetree pulled loose a three-by-five card that had
been taped inside the lid.  "And the recipe, too?"
 
"My sainted great-gramma is probably spinning in her
grave - that's an old Lambert family secret recipe."
 
"I swear I'll take it to my grave with me.  Thanks
Natalie!"  He reached for the second tin, which
featured rows of marching antlered animals and the
legend, "Merry ChrisMoose."
 
"That one's from Schanke."
 
"I'd never have guessed."  He popped open the lid.
"Another fruitcake.  I'll add it to the stack,"  he
said, gesturing toward a pile of untouched boxes next
to the office coffeepot.
 
"Pity you don't have a fireplace in here,"  Nat
observed, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle.  "With all
the alcohol they've been soaked in, they'd make a
lovely fire."
 
"And one that'd burn until New Year's,"  he grumbled,
but a glimmer in his eye betrayed his gruffness.  The
last box was a small white one, decorated only with a
red silk ribbon tied into a bow.
 
"From Nick."
 
Stonetree carefully extracted the gift from its
protective layers of tissue paper, and turned it over
in his hands.  It was a small ivory carving, only three
inches tall, of a bear standing on its hind legs with a
fish in its mouth.  The ivory was very old, and had
aged to nearly an amber color, making the bear resemble
a tiny grizzly.
 
Nat gasped softly.  "It's gorgeous!"
 
Stonetree nodded, seemingly at a loss for words.
 
She admired the little bear a few moments longer, then
said, "Well, I'd better be moving along.  I've got the
reindeer double parked outside."
 
He tore his glance away from the bear.  "Thanks for
stopping by, Natalie.  And for the cookies."
 
"Merry Christmas, Captain."
 
"Merry Christmas."
 
Stonetree set the bear on top of the switchboard's
monitor, so he could look at him eye-to-eye.  The
artist had made the little animal's face so lifelike,
you'd swear it changed expression from moment to
moment.  There was pride at having caught the fish.
Then impatience that he'd been transfixed in ivory
before he'd gotten a chance to eat his prize.  Finally,
smug humor, as if he and the fish were privy to some
great cosmic joke.
 
<How did Nick know my spirit animal was a grizzly?>
Stonetree wondered.  <I guess he's a very perceptive
man.  Or whatever he is.>  He'd had a feeling in his
bones that Nick Knight was not exactly what he seemed
to be when he'd started working for him.  And that
"skin condition?"  Hogwash.  No, there was more than a
little something supernatural about Nick.  But that was
only a secondary consideration.
 
Stonetree had seen something else in him.  Nick burned
with a passion for justice.  His surname, Knight, was
no coincidence.  He _needed_ to see that wrongdoers
were caught and punished the way people _needed_ to
breathe.  He had a bright white light radiating from
his soul that Stonetree could nearly see with his
physical eyes.
 
Stonetree respected that light, and did what he could
to make sure Nick's way was clear to do his job.  <I
wonder if he knows how I've gone to bat for him with
his new boss?>  Captain Cohen had been skeptical of
Nick's medical requirement to work only the night
shift.  Stonetree convinced her it was legit.  He'd
also heard through the grapevine when Nick made
mistakes - like playing a little fast and loose with
proper police procedure.  <Sounds like he's becoming
more human.>  A couple of times Stonetree made a point
of calling Cohen on some other matter, and slipping in
a few good words for Nick.
 
Something tickled the back of his mind.  He poked
through the tissue paper that had cushioned the little
bear and found what he'd thought he'd seen before:  a
small card tucked away.  It read, "Thanks.  -- Nick."
Stonetree smiled.  <Yes, very perceptive indeed.>
 
The party was finally breaking up, and the receptionist
reclaimed her switchboard.  Stonetree checked his
watch.  There was just enough time to catch that store
on West Queen before it closed.  He pulled on his coat,
and headed for his car.
 
-----
 
Nick arrived home shortly before sunup and discovered a
small, flat box propped up against the door.  The red
and green Christmas tag read: "To Nick, From Stonetree"
in handwriting he'd seen on many a memo back at the
37th.  He brought the box in, and opened it while his
phone messages played.
 
Inside the box was a leather-wrapped hoop, hung with
feathers and beads, its center filled with a net woven
from sinew.  A dream-catcher -  Nick had seen them
before.  But instead of the usual crystal hanging in
the center, there was a small bronze sun.  <I wonder...
Naah.>  Nick thought.  Then he noticed a card in the
bottom of the box.  In the same familiar handwriting
was written the word, "Persevere."
 
                      ##  30  ##
c1994 Siobhan