©2006, James C. Taylor, all rights reserved and all that stuff

The Investigator's Christmas



"You're welcome to come with me to Wentworth Manor. We're having a family gala where I see cousins I don't remember the other 365 days a year, so no one would even know if you belonged." Beth Huntington Wentworth Dixon hung her Mrs. Wonderful costume in her IMWAN Lair locker.

The Investigator stared absently at the computer screen before him. "Thank you, but I have plans. And it's 364."

Beth frowned. "Not in leap year it isn't."

"This isn't leap year."

"Poopyhead." Beth brushed her hair out. "Tell me you're not going to stay here for Christmas."

"I'm not going to stay here for Christmas."

"Mean it."

"I do." The Investigator swiveled around. "I have plans. I really do."

Beth looked deeply into his eyes through the Spectrogoggle lenses. "If you're lonely, or bored--"

"I won't be. I promise."

Beth put on her jacket, grabbed her purse, and pressed the transmitter button. "Merry Christmas, Wayne."

"Merry Christmas, Beth."

After Beth left, the Investigator put all of the IMWAN Lair's secondary systems into hibernation, then teleported out to the waiting Seeker. It landed in Foundry City's Sunset Park. The Investigator debarked and walked over to the wooden bench facing the small fountain. He took a single red rose from his jacket pocket and placed it on the bench next to him.

"Christmas truce?"

The Investigator turned his head slightly behind him to see All-Seeing Iris standing with her arms at her side, palms up.

"Truce."

Iris walked to the front of the bench and sat down, picking up gently the single rose, admiring its now slightly frosted beauty.
"You come here every year."

"I do."

"I've been watching you for a while now."

"I know."

Iris's veil fluttered with a heavy exhale. "Yeah. Sure."

The Investigator shrugged his shoulders. "Christmas truce."

Iris's gloved fingertip played lightly over a thorn. "So, tell me about it."

"Not much to tell. I was in love with a girl. She couldn't, maybe wouldn't, take me home for Christmas. We used to meet here for our Christmas. She died. I still meet her here for our Christmas."

"She'd think that was sweet."

"I think it's sad."

Iris held the rose to where her nose would be behind the veil. "They're not mutually exclusive." Iris got up and put the rose back on the bench. "I never met her, but I would like to think that she regrets she never took you home."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"It doesn't matter any less. I'd also like to think that she loved you."

"I'd like to think that, too."

"Merry Christmas, Investigator." Iris started walking away.

"Merry Christmas, Iris." The Investigator exhaled slowly. "Give up being a crook."

Iris stopped walking. "I will. Just not today." Iris walked into the evening. And the Investigator sat and watched the world.