Title: A Kind of Christmas Carol
By: Serenity
Summary: Nick gets a chance to change his life, before it's too late. Beta'd by my Christmas Star anmani.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to CBS and Mr Charles Dickens. I make no money from this.
Characters: Nick, Greg
Genres: romance, AU, drama, humor
Rating: PG13
Warnings: none

Dawn broke over Vegas on Christmas morning, the horizon warming with bright bursts of orange against the amethyst sky. At the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Nick Stokes pushed open the door to the break room and shot his friend and co-worker Greg Sanders a weary half-smile. Greg grinned back and pushed the chair next to him away from the table with a noisy scrape, inviting Nick to sit beside him.

"How's it going?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"OK, I guess." Nick replied. "I'm about done here, I'm heading home in a minute. Just wanted to stop in and give you that $20 you loaned me yesterday." He passed the crumpled bill to Greg, who shoved it in the pocket of his jeans.

"Thanks, but there was no rush. So, are you all set for Christmas?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really bother with Christmas anymore man. I mean, what's the point? It's not like I have anyone to share it with. My family is all over the place and I'm not seeing anyone. Besides, it's all so commercial these days. There's so many tacky lights on all year round in Vegas, a few more bulbs don't exactly make it feel more like Christmas, you know what I mean?"

"Such a cynic at such a young age." Greg shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "It's Christmas. The season of goodwill to all men. A time for peace and love."

Nick frowned at him. "I just processed a triple homicide, dude. Where was the peace and love there?"

Greg held up his hands in defeat. "OK, I know. I work here too, remember? I know how it is. But don't you think that makes celebrating Christmas even more important? It should make you thankful for all the good that there is in this world."

"We've got Thanksgiving for that." Nick grumbled. "Christmas is just another excuse to spend too much money, eat too much and drink way too much."

Greg rolled his eyes at Nick's skepticism. "Anyway..... Speaking of eating and drinking too much, you are coming to Catherine's party later, right? Everyone else is going to be there."

"Doubtful." Nick shook his head and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "I just don't feel like faking Christmas cheer all day. I'll probably just catch up on some sleep."

"Come on Nick." Greg's voice took on a pleading quality. "It won't be the same without you there. It's not until 5, you can get plenty of sleep before it."

"Sorry Greggo." Nick sighed and clapped a hand on Greg's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll all manage without me. You'll be having so much fun that you won't even notice I'm not there."

"Yeah. Whatever." Greg pushed back from the table and quickly rinsed his coffee mug in the sink, leaving it to drain on the side. "Well, that's me. I guess I'll see you here tonight then. But listen, if you change your mind, why not come over to my apartment and we can go to Cath's place together, huh?"

"Drop it, alright?" Nick sighed. Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll just... see you tonight, OK?"

"Alright then. Merry Christmas Nick." he called over his shoulder as he left the break room, a little less animated than he had been before.

Nick dismissed the pleasantry with a wave of his hand.

~~~

He let himself into his cold, empty house. He'd forgotten to open the blackout blinds the evening before, so the house remained ominously dark despite the bright crisp Winter sunshine outside. He flicked on the lights, figuring he was going to be going to sleep soon anyway, so there was little point in opening the blinds at all.

He lifted the remote control from the arm of the sofa and clicked on the television, hoping that the background noise would help to fill the creeping emptiness of his home. Alastair Sim's wizened face filled the screen as he scoffed at Bob Cratchit's wish of a Merry Christmas.

"I'm with you Scrooge." Nick sighed as he kicked his way out of his jeans and sweater, leaving him in just a dark blue t-shirt and his black boxer briefs. He padded into the kitchen and made himself a toasted bagel with cream cheese and a mug of herbal tea.

He turned off the lights again, the soft glow of the television enough to guide his way through the house.

He brought his food to the sofa and pulled a thick blanket over his legs to keep warm. The movie played unwatched in the background as Nick finished his food, setting the empty plate on the floor beside him. He yawned loudly and stretched his arms above his head.

"Time for bed." he yawned again, throwing the blanket off himself. His eyes were so heavy he could barely see. Suddenly and without warning the TV clicked itself off, throwing the living room into darkness once more.

Once his eyes had adjusted Nick fumbled for the remote and pressed the on button repeatedly, but the screen remained dark. "Must be a power-cut." he decided, tossing the remote back onto the sofa. All of a sudden the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle, as if someone was watching him. His eyes automatically flew to the ceiling to check for spy-holes, pulling the blanket tighter around his body.

The sound of soft breathing filled the room, the unmistakable sound of a woman sighing followed. Nick automatically reached for his gun but only got a handful of hipbone and t-shirt.

"Come out with your hands up. LVPD." he shouted, getting off the sofa. "Who's there?"

A soft grey light filled the room, as mist swirled around his legs. "What the hell...." he thought, trying to bat the mist away with his hand as it rose higher and higher around his body.

"Hello Nick." A familiar female voice spoke right in his ear. Nick spun around but no one was there.

"Have you missed me?" The same voice was at the other end of the room now.

"Who's there?" Nick asked, feeling a trickle of cold sweat run down his back. He was feeling seriously creeped out. "Show yourself."

"To you? Anytime." A young woman stepped forward from the mist, twirling a lock of her dark hair around her finger.

Nick's eyes widened in shock. "Kristy?" He felt his legs turn to rubber, and he backed up against the wall to hold himself steady. "How....." He shook his head and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. "I'm not seeing this. I'm dreaming. I knew I shouldn't have had Mexican last night."

"I'm no dream." she shook her head. "I'm as real as you are. Well.... almost." She reached out to Nick and passed her hand straight through his body.

"I don't believe in ghosts." Nick stated forcefully, trying to ignore the tremor that went through him at her touch. "I work with the dead every day. If there was such a thing as ghosts I would have seen one before now. I'm just imagining things."

"Why do you doubt your senses?" she asked, coming closer. He could smell her perfume and in the dim light he could clearly see the strangulation marks still on her neck. "Look Nick, just shut up and listen to me, OK? I don't exactly have much time here. I've come to warn you."

"Warn me about what?" Nick gulped.

"To open your heart Nick. Open your heart while there's still time. It was too late for me. My heart was closed to the world. I was ruthless, manipulative and cold. I sold my body to everything but love and now I pay the price for all eternity."

"But you were trying to change, you were going back to college...." Nick stammered.

Kristy laughed, its sound like metal scraping. "Oh, you're so naïve. I lied to you Nick. I was setting up on my own. I was recruiting girls into the same life I had. And my pimp killed me for it. And now I'm here to warn you. Open your heart Nick, while you have the chance. It's too late for me, but you still have time."

"Why are you telling me this?" Nick choked. "Why me?"

"I spent the last night of my life with you." Kristy sighed. "You were the only person in my life to show me genuine affection. You wanted to help me change. I wanted to give you this opportunity to open up to the chance of love."

"Love? With who? Who would love me?" Nick scoffed.

"You'll find out." Kristy nodded. Her image started to shimmer and fade. "You will be visited by three spirits, they'll tell you more."

"No, no way. I've already had enough of that." Nick felt a strange mix of anger and foolishness for talking back to a hallucination.

"Take this chance Nick." Kristy warned as she disappeared into the ether. The mist swirled around him and then seemed to vanish into the floor.

The TV flickered back to life of its own accord, showing the fuzzy grey screen of poor reception.

Nick stumbled to the doorway and switched on the overhead lighting. The room looked exactly the same as it had when he'd come home, no sign of what had just happened. He ran to the phone and picked it up, about to dial Greg's number. But instead of pressing 'send' he put the phone back in its cradle. What could he tell his friend that wouldn't have Greg sending a psychologist round?

He rubbed at the goose-bumps that had formed on his upper arms. "It was a dream." he told himself. "Just a dream." For Nick was a man of science, of logic, of rationalising events until they made sense. It was what a CSI did.

Still, it had been an unsettling experience. With the sound of Kristy's warning echoing in his head, he made his way to bed where he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Nick tossed and turned under sheets damp with his sweat, trapped in the dark world between sleeping and waking. A soft swooshing sound filled the room, bringing him to full consciousness and he opened one eye and glanced around nervously, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed with relief and closed the eye again, snuggling further under the cover.

Suddenly a light so bright that he could see it even through his closed eyelids filled the room. He squinted against the blinding light, one hand automatically shielding his eyes.

"Who's there?" he called out. The light swirled around in a decreasing circle until it revealed the shape of a woman. The light dimmed until she was surrounded by a soft glow, as if she was illuminated from the inside.

The face looked familiar to him. "Wendy?" he stammered.

The woman smiled and shook her head. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past." Her voice was tinkling and light, like bells ringing in the distance.

"Yeah, well, you look a lot like my friend Wendy. Is this some sort of joke?" Nick fumed. "How did you get into my house?"

"I come for your welfare." she smiled, holding out her hand.

"Don't you think a good night's sleep would be better for my welfare?" Nick grumbled, pulling the covers tighter around himself.

"Your reclamation, then. Take heed!'' She touched his face with her hand, and Nick felt a surge of energy flow through his body. He rose from the bed and stood next to her, and she smiled. A blast of icy wind tore past him but disturbed nothing else in the room. Images flew past him, fleeting glimpses through time, but not vivid enough to grasp hold of. He closed his eyes in fright and when he opened them again he was in a large living room, a brightly lit Christmas tree in the corner with presents spilling out from beneath it. Several children were rummaging in the present pile, trying to find those with their name on it. The image was all too familiar.

A woman walked into the room with a tray of cookies and set them on the table. The children rushed to grab them, the tray emptied in seconds leaving nothing but a few crumbs.

"Mom?" Nick said quietly "Mom?" he said again, louder this time. Then he realised he was still dressed in his boxers and T-Shirt, and tried to cover himself up, flushing with embarrassment.

"These are merely shadows of the past." the spirit smiled. "They can neither see nor hear you."

Jillian Stokes sighed at the sight of the empty tray. "You didn't leave any for Nick." she scolded. "Where is he anyway? Nicholas?" she called out.

A little boy, aged around five, came tumbling into the living room. Nick recognised the boy as his younger self.

"Cookies!" he cried out, jumping up at the table.

"Sorry sweetheart, you missed them." His mom picked up the tray and brought it back to the kitchen. "Perhaps one of your sisters has one left." she called over her shoulder.

Little Nick turned to his older sisters in time to see them cramming the last of the cookies into their mouths. Adult Nick shook his head and sighed. He remembered this day.

"Can I open my present now?" little Nick asked. His eldest sister Harriet pulled a small package from under the tree.

"This one's yours Nicky." she smiled.

Little Nick tore off the brightly colored paper to reveal a plastic fire-truck. "Neenaw neenaw!" he cried excitedly, driving the truck across the carpet. After a couple of minutes playing with it, one of the wheels jammed. He pushed harder and the wheel popped off.

His older brother Michael ran over and stuck the wheel back on the axle for him. "It always does that. When I got it two years ago it was already broken." he said, before clapping his hand over his mouth, his eyes widening in fear.

"Michael, that was a secret!" his other sister Beth yelled.

"What do you mean, Santa only brought it last night." little Nick asked in wonder.

"Santa didn't bring it." Harriet said smugly, going through her pre-teen rebellion phase. "He doesn't exist. It's one of Michael's old toys."

She got up off her knees and started doing a little dance, singing "There's no such thing as Santa, there's no such thing as Santa."

"Harriet Stokes, you get in here this minute!" Jillian yelled from the doorway. Little Nick started to cry, the fire-truck forgotten.

Adult Nick turned away, his arms hugging his body. "I often got hand-me-downs." he explained. "My parents made good money, but with seven kids there was never much to spare. I understood that."

"Let us see another Christmas in this place." the spirit said gently, touching Nick on the arm.

"I don't want to." Nick shook his head.

~~~

The same cold breeze overtook him, and he closed his eyes against it. When he opened them again he was standing in his old bedroom. The nine year old version of himself was tucked up in bed, wearing his favourite Spiderman pyjamas. His Mom had never known why he'd thrown those pyjamas in the fire one night.

Nick felt bile rise in his throat as a soft tap came to the door. He knew exactly which Christmas this was.

"Come in." young Nick called out. The door opened to reveal a blonde girl in her late teens standing there.

"You should be sleeping." she cooed. "Santa doesn't come to little boys who aren't sleeping."

"Only little kids believe in Santa." the young boy laughed. "I'm too old for that."

"Oh, so you're a big boy?" she smiled. "Well OK then. How about we play a game so you can show me what a big boy you are?"

"I like games." young Nick nodded as the girl walked slowly towards the bed unbuttoning her blouse.

"Why do you show me this?" Nick cried out, squeezing his eyes shut to block out what he knew was going to happen next. "Are you that sadistic?"

"These are the shadows of the things that have been." the spirit shook her head. "That they are what they are, do not blame me."

"Leave me alone!" Nick screamed, trying to push the spirit away. He tumbled forward and landed on his own bed. The room was silent around him, his own room. He just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up into the toilet, wave after wave of bitter vomit. He flushed the mess away and staggered back to bed.

Nick wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He'd been unable to get back to sleep after the horrible dream he'd just had, for that was all he could rationalise it as. He sighed and threw back the covers, deciding to watch some TV until sleep overtook him again.

He was positive he'd turned the living room lights out, but a soft glow was coming from the gap under the door. Perhaps he'd forgotten to turn the TV off when he'd gone to bed? He opened the door carefully and slipped through.

"Come in, and know me better man!" The rich hearty voice filled the room. Nick looked up in shook to see yet another familiar face beaming across the room at him.

"Doc.... Robbins?" he asked. The man definitely looked like the pathologist, his white beard and ruddy face half-hidden by the hood of a rich green velvet cloak, trimmed with snow-white fur.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present." the man boomed, smiling.

"Yeah yeah." Nick rolled his eyes. "I know I'm dreaming again, so lets get this over with, huh?"

"Doesn't everything seem so wonderful at Christmas?" the spirit chuckled.

"You're joking, right?" Nick shook his head. "Listen man, all I see Christmas as is yet another day for the crazies to come out. Do you know how high the murder/suicide rate gets at Christmas? It's higher than any other time of the year. And I get to wallow in the filth every night. So excuse me if I don't see what's so amazing about Christmas."

"You've only seen the evil that men do. You need to see the good in people." the spirit nodded. He reached a hand out and touched Nick gently on the shoulder. Again Nick felt warmth spread through his body, like drinking hot chocolate on a cold day.

This time there was no biting wind, just a softening and fading of the world around him. As the room came back into focus he found himself standing in the middle of a homeless shelter.

"Why did you bring me here?" Nick asked in confusion, looking around at the queues of people lining up to get a free hot meal.

The spirit just smiled, and pointed to the front of the queue, where Greg was dishing out mashed potatoes, laughing and joking with the young girl holding the plate. She smiled and moved on, and he began talking to the next person in line, spooning a mountain of the creamy mash onto his plate.

"Greg never told me he did this." Nick moved forwards until he was standing beside Greg. He could smell the food, hear the chatter of the people all around him as if he was really there.

"So Greg...." the pretty blonde girl beside him called over as she spooned peas and carrots onto plates. "You still going to your party today?"

"Yeah." Greg sighed. "But Nick Scrooge has decided he's not coming."

"Oh bummer." she sympathised. "I know you were hoping to get him under the mistletoe." she added with a wink.

"Jenna!" he exclaimed, his cheeks burning in a fierce blush.

Nick choked on his own spit, coughing wildly. Greg carried on as if Nick wasn't there, which of course, he wasn't.

"No matter what I feel for Nick, I'd never jeopardise our friendship like that. He's not interested in me." he stated. "No, I've banished him firmly to the 'unrequited' section."

"Shame." Jenna sighed. "That photo you showed me? Man, he's so hot."

"Preaching to the converted Jenna." Greg grinned, spooning more potatoes onto the next plate. Nick watched Greg carefully to see if he was joking, but the man seemed genuine.

"Come, there is much to see." the spirit whispered, once again touching Nick's shoulder.

"I had no idea he felt that way." Nick said in disbelief as his body filled with warmth and the room faded around them again.

As the focus sharpened again he found himself standing in Catherine's house. All his work colleagues were gathered around the giant table as Catherine and Lindsay served up enough food to feed an army. Everyone was talking and laughing, pulling crackers and stealing bits of turkey off the serving plate.

Catherine slapped Hodges' hand as he reached for a piece of the succulent bird. "Hands off." she scolded. "Greg's not here yet."

Hodges rolled his eyes and withdrew the hand, muttering something Nick couldn't make out. As if on cue the doorbell rang and Greg bustled into the house, his hands full of presents.

Nick watched as hugs and kisses were exchanged and then everyone settled down to the fabulous meal. He walked over to look at the pile of presents Greg had brought, seeing the largest one was labelled for him. It was wrapped in shiny red paper with a silver bow. He must have brought it on the off-chance that Nick would turn up.

"I wish I'd come now." Nick sighed to the spirit. "Just look at them. They're all having such a good time."

"Nick!" Grissom cried.

"Grissom!" Nick answered, walking over to the table. "You can see me?"

"To absent friends." he finished, making a toast.

"To Nick." everyone echoed, taking a sip of their drinks.

Nick sighed, deflated. He had so many friends who cared about him, people who loved him. How could he not have realised this? Had Kristy meant Greg when she said he had to open his heart up to love? He laughed at himself, he was beginning to treat this as if it was really happening! It was all a dream, he couldn't let himself forget that.

Still, as the room faded around him he kept his eyes on Greg until the last.

The Ghost of Christmas Present led him through the strip, and Nick watched as strangers greeted each other with smiles and calls of Merry Christmas. Of course the casinos and bars were still open and the strip was as busy as ever, but the atmosphere was light and cheerful. A rosy-cheeked Santa Claus stood on the corner ringing his bell and asking for donations to his charity. Nick watched as a man and woman came tumbling out of the Mirage, laughing and screaming with delight. The man stopped and tossed a large wad of bills into the Santa's red bucket, obviously some of his winnings from a good day at the roulette wheel. Perhaps there was some good still left in the world after all.

"Look at all these people." he said in wonder. "I'm usually asleep during all of this."

"I have to go now." the spirit warned him, clapping Nick heartily on the back. "My time is up."

"Do you have to?" Nick asked. "You have shown me so much. I was just beginning to enjoy myself."

The spirit nodded. "I'm afraid I must, in fact. But I leave you in the company of the Ghost of Christmas yet to come."

The strip faded around him, the figure of the kindly spirit fading with it, and Nick suddenly found himself surrounded by thick damp fog, the kind that coats the throat and sticks to the lungs, cloying and heavy.

As the fog slowly cleared, he saw that a tall man stood before him, dressed all in black. "What the.... Ecklie?" Nick asked, for the man did indeed look eerily similar to Conrad Ecklie, only a more skeletal version.

The figure shook his head.

"No, of course not. You must be the Ghost of Christmas future then, right?"

He nodded and beckoned Nick with a long bony finger. Nick followed behind obediently.

The fog cleared to reveal that they were now in the Crime Lab. Nick followed the spirit through the familiar yet different hallways. They had been repainted, he realised after a while. They continued down the long corridor until they were standing outside the break room. Nick looked through the door as Grissom and Sara sat down at the table. He noticed that Sara's hands were shaking and her face was tearstained. Lines criss-crossed her usually smooth skin, and her dark hair was streaked with fine highlights of silver.

Grissom had his back to Nick, but he could see that his boss now had a shock of white hair, and his frame was carrying a few extra pounds than it was before. He was comforting Sara about something, that much was obvious. But what?

"What's happened here?" he asked the spirit. But before he could find an answer, the thick fog began to swirl around him again. "No!" he exclaimed. "I want to know what's happened here. Why are they upset?"

The spirit turned and walked away from the room and into the dense fog. Nick followed, the feel of the tiles on his bare feet changing from hard ceramic to a spongy softness, like grass, the further he walked.

It took him a few moments to realise that they were now walking through a graveyard. The fog turned to pouring rain as they made their way to a freshly dug grave, the coffin laying uncovered in the deep hole. The rain fell heavily on him, and yet somehow he remained completely dry. He looked at the coffin where a few handfuls of soil obscured the gold name-plate.

"Oh right." Nick scoffed. "Look buddy, I know the story of A Christmas Carol. This is the bit where you take me to the graveyard and show me my own grave, right? This is supposed to be the big reveal where I realise once and for all that I have to change my life. I get it, OK? I have to open my heart to love, I have to embrace the idea of Christmas and all it stands for. I know that. Can we not just leave it at that? I know what I have to do."

The spirit shook his head and pointed to the coffin.

"I know, it's the future, I'm dead. And it looks like no one came to my funeral either." he sighed, looking around the empty graveyard.

The spirit shook his head again and moved from pointing to the coffin to pointing off into the distance. Nick followed the finger and saw the outline of a man approaching, he was dressed in a thick black coat and had a hat pulled low over his face.

"Wait, looks like someone did come." he said smugly. He watched as the man came closer and laid a single red rose on the lid of the coffin.

Then the man took the hat off and held it close to his chest, finally revealing his face. Nick gasped in shock as he recognised an older version of himself. From the appearance, Nick guessed he was around fifty.

"If I'm here," he asked the spirit fearfully, "then who is in that grave?"

"Oh Greg." older Nick sighed. A lone tear trickled from the corner of his eye, stolen and carried away soon after by the drops of rain.

"Greg? No!" Nick screamed, dropping to his knees beside the open grave.

The older Nick carried on. "I'm sorry I missed the service.... I just couldn't.... But I couldn't not come either, I just wanted to wait until everyone else had left. I didn't want anyone else to hear this. This shouldn't have happened to you, you didn't deserve it. You were such a good man Greg, and a friend to me even when I didn't deserve it. God, if only I'd told you how I felt then we could have been together. You would never have been with him and this would never have happened. Now you'll never know how much I've loved you all these years."

"What happened?" Nick begged his older self. He needed to know.

"But I'll get him for you Greg, I promise." the older Nick vowed. "That bastard won't get away with what he did to you. He'll pay. And if we can't convict him.... Well, he'll pay another way. I swear to it."

Nick watched as his older self placed the hat back on his head and walked slowly out of the graveyard. He turned in panic to the spirit. "What happened to him, did his lover kill him? Could I have stopped it?" He grabbed onto the spirit's clothes, tears spilling from his eyes. "Tell me this doesn't have to happen, tell me I can change it. Why would you show me this if I couldn't? Please spirit. Please."

He buried his face in the musty-smelling garments, begging over and over again to be given a chance to change things.

Nick tumbled onto the floor of his living room, his face buried so deep in his blanket that he could taste the wool at the back of his throat when he breathed.

Slowly he lowered the thick material and surveyed his surroundings. The TV was still humming softly in the background, the picture showing Ebenezer Scrooge happily wishing the world a Merry Christmas. The blackout blinds were still drawn, his plate and mug still sat beside the sofa where he had left it. He was in his own house, and it seemed that not more than two hours had passed.

Without warning, Nick started to laugh. It began as a bubble in the centre of his chest, a chuckle which built into a soaring belly-laugh, a high that took him a few minutes to come down from, leaving him with a frog in his throat and tears in his eyes.

He wiped the dampness away with the back of his hand, a few uncontrolled spasms of laughter still shaking his body, and untangled himself from the blanket which was wound around him. Standing on wobbly legs he went over to the window and opened the blinds, letting the crisp winter sunshine flood the room.

"What a weird, freaky-ass dream." he said aloud, shaking his head. Onscreen the credits started to roll and Nick reached across to turn the television off.

A dream it may have been, but there had been a meaning there, Nick didn't doubt that. His brain was letting him know what he had to do in the one way he'd be forced to listen attentively.

He had let the monotony of life drag him down, he had forgotten that not everyone in the world was the same as the vile scum that he dealt with night after night. He had people who loved him, friends who, if he wasn't careful, he would push away with his attitude. They all saw the same things he did every shift, he didn't have the monopoly on feeling crappy about it. They all felt the same, they all needed each other to get through it. From now on he would be a better friend.

Nick's thoughts turned to Greg's involvement in the dream. His subconscious was obviously trying to tell him something about their friendship that his conscious mind had failed to realise. Was it possible that it could be something more? Could Greg be his chance for love and happiness?

~~~

After a quick shower and change of clothes Nick found himself in his SUV, making his way to Greg's apartment. He had no idea what he was going to say to his friend, but the urge just to see Greg and hear that familiar voice was too much to ignore.

After a few minutes buzzing Greg's apartment without success, Nick managed to slip his way into the building when someone else was leaving. He took the elevator to Greg's second floor apartment and knocked a little tune of 'Jingle Bells' out on the door. No answer.

"Greg?" he called out. Still nothing.

The door of the apartment opposite opened and a large dark-skinned man, aged around sixty, wrapped in a large coat and balancing several presents in his arms stepped out. One of the smaller presents toppled and balanced precariously for a few seconds before slipping.

Nick's old baseball reflexes came into effect and he caught the present before it had a chance to hit the floor.

"Thank you." the man smiled as Nick helped him readjust the pile of gifts. "Hey, I know you, you work with Greg, right?" His eyes squinted slightly as he tried to put a name to the face. "Nick, isn't it? I've seen you here before."

"Yeah, I work with Greg at the crime lab." Nick confirmed. "I was trying to reach him, but he doesn't seem to be in."

The man gave a booming laugh. "No, you won't get Greg in on Christmas day. He volunteers at the homeless shelter over on Moorland. He didn't tell you?"

Nick felt himself freeze as if ice water had been poured down his back. "A shelter?" he stammered. "You mean like, giving food out?" Just like in his dream.

"Yeah." the man nodded. "Does it every year, is always pestering us for donations of food." The quip was good-natured, obviously the man had a fondness for his young neighbour. "Anyway, I'd better be going, I'm spending the day with my Grandchildren. Hey, thanks for saving....." he indicated to the gift with a nod of his head. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Nick replied, and realised for the first time in a long time, he meant it.

He watched the man walk towards the elevator, a spring in his step that only the thought of spending Christmas with loved one's can bring. Nick's logical mind raced for an explanation for his knowledge of Greg's whereabouts. Surely he must have mentioned that he helped out there but Nick's conscious mind had failed to pick up on the information. "Yeah, that must be it." he decided. "I knew all along, but never realized I knew."

The shelter wasn't far away, Nick knew the area and within ten minutes he was pulling his SUV into a free space only a few cars down from Greg's little jetta.

Even though it was a building that Nick had never been inside before, he was struck with an eerie sense of déjà vu as he walked into the room, which was alive and bustling with people. Greg was behind the counter serving up large spoonfuls of mashed potato, just like in his dream.

He felt the prickle of goose-bumps on the tops of his arms and he rubbed at them mindlessly. Everything looked as it had before. The sounds, the smells... it was all exactly the same. Except there was one glaring difference. Instead of the young woman of his dream, there was an older gentleman dishing up the peas and carrots. Nick let out a long, low sigh. It was all just one huge coincidence.

And then she walked out.

"Hey Tony, why don't you take a break?" she offered in that all-too-familiar voice. Her golden blonde hair shone under the fluorescent light, just as it had done before, her eyes sparkling.

"Thanks Jenna." the man smiled and handed her the spoon. Nick wanted to throw up, but he swallowed down the bitter taste creeping up his throat.

It was real.

It had all been real. The spirits, the visions..... There was no way he could have guessed all of this so correctly to have had it be a dream. He didn't know what to think, what to do. His entire understanding of what could be real and what couldn't had been turned on its axis.

His brain was slowly liquidizing in his head and all he could do was stand there and stare at Greg.

After a few minutes Greg looked up and caught his eye.

"Nick!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" He dropped his spoon into the pot of potato and set about fishing it out, all the while his eyes on Nick, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Nick forced himself to remain calm. "I went to your place and your neighbour told me where to find you." he explained, his voice high and tight. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I thought I'd come down and... help out, I guess."

"So you're the famous Nick?" Jenna asked, her voice filled with glee. "Well, we appreciate all the help we can get, don't we Greg?" Jenna smiled and then shot Greg a strange look. "Grab an apron Nick. You can be on turkey slices. Next to Greg." A lot of emphasis was put on the last sentence and Nick caught Greg shooting daggers at Jenna as she started on the peas and carrots.

Nick handed out thick slices of juicy bird, wishing each person a merry Christmas as they passed. He looked across and caught Greg smiling at him, the young CSI becoming flustered when he realised he'd been busted.

"So, what made you change your mind about Christmas?" Greg asked, trying to cover his awkwardness.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Nick shrugged. He didn't even believe it himself, and there was no explanation in the world for it. Something magical had happened, even though Nick had stopped believing in magic a long long time ago.

He picked up the now-empty tray and carried it towards the kitchen. Greg followed behind, carrying his own tray. "So, does this mean you're coming to Catherine's later?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly at the end. Nick smiled and nodded, noticing that the kitchen was now empty, all the other helpers were already seated at tables enjoying the food.

He closed the door behind Greg and leaned his back against it.

"So..." he began, wanting a little more confirmation before he did what he was about to do. "Did you wrap my present yourself? You know, the one with the red wrapping paper and silver bow? Don't worry, I won't ask what's in it. I'll open it at Catherine's party...."

Greg's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know about....?" he stuttered. That was all the proof Nick needed. He crossed the short distance to where Greg was standing and cupped his hand around Greg's chin.

"Greg..." he sighed. "Something happened to me today. I can't explain it, and I don't think I even want to. But whatever it was, its purpose was to lead me to you."

He ran one fingertip gently down Greg's cheek. He could see the Adam's Apple bob as the other man swallowed hard, feel him trembling beneath the touch.

"And so I'm here. To say sorry for being such a cranky old man recently. And, even though there's no mistletoe, to do.... this." He leaned forward and closed the gap between them, bringing his lips closer to Greg, stopping less than an inch from touching.

"Merry Christmas." he whispered, before gently pressing their lips together for their first kiss. Somewhere in the distance bells were chiming merrily, ringing out the joy of Christmas.

*The End*