Choose what to believe and believe in your choice!

Welcome to the last FanFiction blog of 2015!

This month we bring you some festive snapshots of some of the characters played by Damian.

Brody household, December 2002

“You lied!”  Brody hears the angry accusation mixed with childish indignation and distress in his seven year old’s voice. His two year old son is startled from his conversation with various cuddly toys in his play pen. He looks to his father, wide-eyed.

Leaning over Brody smiles, ruffles Chris’ hair. “It’s ok, buddy. Just some school run drama.” Chris smiles, showing off a toothless grin that always makes Brody’s heart swell, and goes back to playing.

The stomping of Dana’s feet down the hall and the appearance of his shocked looking wife in the doorway puts Brody on alert, especially when Jess seems incapable of forming the words to tell him what is wrong. She comes in and sits down beside him looking lost.

He takes a guess at what is wrong. “She still mad because she didn’t get to play Mary?”

“What?” Jess looks at him startled as though she just realised he were there. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not it…I didn’t know what to say to her. She just came out with it.”

“What?” he raises his eyebrows wondering what could have both his wife and daughter in such a state.

Jess lowers her voice to a whisper and Brody has to lean in to hear her. “One of the older kids told her Santa wasn’t real. She asked me and I was caught off guard at first. I tried to placate her, but I don’t think it worked.”

Brody sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I should have been able to distract her.” Jess rubs her face in defeat. Her demeanor betraying the fact that she’s been so distracted and stressed. The thoughts and worries neither of them verbalise in front of the kids about his going to Iraq. Chris wouldn’t understand anyway and telling Dana about his tour is going to be hell. They had decided they would wait until after Christmas was through because they will have to tell her before her eighth birthday. He hates that they will likely ruin it.

“This is not your fault.” Brody rubs her shoulder in comfort. “I’ll go try and talk to her.”

Jess nods her head.

“Daddddy”, Chris yells as Brody stands up, holding out his arms.

Brody plants a kiss on his Chris’ forehead. “You stay with Mommy, buddy.” He doesn’t see his son’s sad face as he walks away.

Brody usually always knocks on Dana’s door before entering her room, but he forgoes that this time. She doesn’t even protest as he comes in to sit on the edge of her bed, her anger having given way to heartbreak.

“Santa’s not real!”

“Says who?”, Brody asks wiping away the tears.

“Darren Thomson told me.”

Brody files the name away in the back of his mind. “What’s your heart telling you?” Dana tries to shrug her shoulder nonchalantly. It is clear what she wants to believe, but she isn’t going to make it easy.

“Why aren’t you supposed to see him delivering the presents?”

“He’s shy.”

“No he isn’t!” Dana retorts indignantly.

“Yes. He is. Why do you think his cheeks are always rosy? He gets embarrassed.”

Dana stares at him for what seems like eternity. He may be a trained sniper, but the gaze of a determined seven year old is daunting.

“So, I’ll get the Bratz dolls I asked for?”

“Absolutely.”

Brody shuts her bedroom door fifteen minutes later, satisfied he has managed to navigate the issue this year, but knowing he’s got a frantic few days ahead.

Crews Mansion, December 2015

Wandering into the foyer in his undecorated mansion Crews frowns, kicks a stray shoe into the coat closet. He wonders if he should organize it. Then snorts at himself. Is he really so bored and lonesome that organizing holds appeal?

He’s tempted to call Ted away from his vacation in Waikiki or to drive over to the station, pester Reese. ((And what, convince her to join you in your empty house for a dull evening?)) Shaking his head at the thought he grabs his jacket from the closet, slips on the shoes he just kicked. It’s a rainy, cool night in LA. Typical of December right around the holidays. Getting in his car he’s not sure where he wants to drive to, but feels like he has to go somewhere.

“Maybe I should let the car decide,” he muses out loud, sitting back in the seat, as if waiting for an autopilot to kick in and his prized car to cure his boredom. After a few minutes of sitting back, mediating and pondering he turns the key in the ignition, drives away from the mansion before turning right onto the main road. Instead of left. The car that he wasn’t attached to seemed to be in agreement and had him on route to the liquor store. Where he planned to pick up something that’d help him feel slightly less bored at the mansion tonight.

Driving through the hilly residential area he shakes his head, seeing Christmas lights and inflatable snowmen on both sides of the street. Try as he might he couldn’t muster up the holiday spirit this year. Reese and him were still partners but at odds, and Ted was away until New Years. He didn’t have much. His house reflected it. And he wondered as he drove even with all the money at his disposal, would it ever change?

Turning on the brights to see the road in the rain, Crews was glad for the illumination after seeing something run into the road. Slamming on the brakes, careful not to hydroplane, he hastily pulled off to the shoulder.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let the car decide,”

After composing himself, putting the car back in drive he took it slow, keeping his eyes peeled for any other obstacles. His jaw almost dropped as he braked again, seeing the same one. Crossing back from the side of the road it had just run to.

“Well I guess you’re not a chicken. They cross the road and tend to stay.” Crews muttered, parking the car again on the deserted stretch of road and approaching the creature. Right hand hovering over his sidearm he squints through the rain, seeing a flicker of gold in the dark before hearing a faint yip.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not a chicken!”

Bending at the waist he extends his hand, letting the young retriever give it a sniff. Not seeing foam on his mouth or other injuries, just a wet, shy puppy, Crews smiles, strokes the top of it’s head.

“Hey. Hey there. I met a friend of yours once. Not too far from here actually,” he smiles, realizing he’s not far from the crime scene where his first case back occurred.

“He helped me out a lot. You here to do the same?”

When the puppy let out an eager series of yips, laughing Crews back to the car, motioning for the animal to follow him. Not seeing a collar or license, just a crooked red bow around the dog’s neck, Crews opened up the back door of his car, spreading a spare jacket of his over the seat for it to sit on.

“Good boy. Or girl. We’ll have to verify that later. Were you a present for someone?”

Not getting an answer, just soulful brown eyes looking back, Crews smiles.

“I’m pretty sure if you were you wouldn’t be out here on the street alone. I’ll do some research on your behalf. See if anyone’s looking for you. If not though,…”

Affectionately rubbing the dog’s ears, snout Crews straightens the bow, gives his new four legged friend a grin.

“I could use a little change this Christmas.”

Axelrod household, December 2016

Dean and Geordie seem to be dealing with the unfamiliar a lot better than he or their mother were. Which really doesn’t say much for him or Lara given that this situation is not unfamiliar to them,  it is just not recent. It is entirely unfamiliar territory for his sons. They had always tried to ensure the boys were not spoiled little brats, but considering they could pretty much rely upon getting what they wanted eventually there was always the risk. They have surprised him after some initial grumbling, but that was mostly down to change of schools and friends and a certain amount of infamy attached to him.

He smiles watching them happily decorate the Christmas tree. It is big enough for this room in this house, but would have looked like a fireplace ornament in their old home. Yet, they are clearly enjoying themselves. The delight on their face is not forced…their mother, however is a different story. He had always known of her strength and hardness. It is partly what attracted him to her in the first place. Her eyes meet his and that hardness which is ever more present on a daily basis and ever more directed at him is shining back at him. It is gone as quickly as it appeared as Geordie needs her help and she won’t let the kids see the fracture between them.

“Dad, you’re up.”, Dean holds out the last decoration.

Bobby smiles. Last year he’d have needed a ladder to do this. But not this year and, looking at his sons’ infectious grins, he knows it really doesn’t matter how the star goes on top just so long as it does.

“It’s great isn’t it, dad?”, Geordie’s enthusiasm could fill the room.

“Yeah it is.”

“I’m going to make the dinner”, Lara gives him a withering look out of sight of the kids. He doesn’t react.

“Mom’s making dinner?”, Dean whispers in horror. “But she can’t cook!”

Bobby holds back his laughter. It is absolutely true. No more Chef Ryan. If he weren’t so sure she wouldn’t do it to the kids, he’d say the terrible cooking is deliberate. He does it most of the time.

“Dean!!!” Geordie pulls his brother away to the other side of the room now that the tree is decorated.

The ping of his phone lets Bobby know he has a text from Wendy.

“How are things at your end?”

“Not great. Putting on brave face for kids.”

“Come on. We’ve got some time before dinner.” Bobby looks up to see his sons huddled together conversing conspiratorially.

“Time for what?”

Both boys jump and look at Bobby trying to act innocent while hiding something behind their backs.

“It’s a surprise”, Dean answers dragging his brother out of the room before Bobby can question them further. He lets them go. It is nearly Christmas so they could be telling the truth.

His phone pings at him again.

“Same here. It has just been decided that I will have to smile for the in-laws on Christmas day. Won’t be easy when I’d rather stick a fork in their son’s eye.”

Bobby blanches as he reads wondering if that is how Lara is feeling about him right now. He doubts Lara would appreciate knowing she and Wendy are sharing feelings since she partly blames Wendy for their current predicament. It scares him when Lara gets that look in her eye because he is wondering what she is plotting. Loyalty is great, but has its faults too. Lara doesn’t realise Wendy is the reason he isn’t spending Christmas in a prison cell, but he can’t tell her that. Can’t utter a word. Not even Wags knows. They just have to try and stumble on together and apart.

“Happy Christmas” he sends back to her.

Almost immediately he gets a response. “I think you mean Merry Christmas ya filthy animal.”

Bobby laughs just as Lara comes into the room. He feels her staring at him long before he actually looks up. When he does, the look of betrayal shines through before she turns back to the Kitchen.

He sighs. Merry Christmas indeed.

We hope you have enjoyed our snapshots. We’ll see you on the other side in 2016.

Happy holidays to everyone!

Misfit and TBkWrm