Jon walked into his apartment and threw his keys onto the kitchen counter. He shrugged off his uniform jacket and threw it carelessly onto a chair. He removed his gun belt and took the time to carefully put that away in a cupboard. Then, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and practically collapsed on the sofa. Taking a swig, he glanced around the small apartment before letting his breath out in a long exhale. Neat and orderly, it was a good reflection of the man who lived there. The only concession to the holiday spirit was a small Christmas tree that stood in front of the patio doors. Reaching behind the sofa, he found the plug lying where he had left it and plugged it in. Soft lights blinked on and off rhythmically on the small tree lighting up the small heap of packages under it.
Jon stared at it as he slowly drank the beer. It mesmerized him until he found the bottle lifted to his lips to be empty and he hadn't remembered drinking it. Shrugging his shoulders, he got to his feet and deposited the bottle into the garbage. On the way back to his seat, he saw his jacket where he had dropped it. Picking it up, he rummaged the pockets until he found the small gift that Joe Getraer had handed him before he had left the station. He turned it over and examined it half-heartedly before slipping it under the tree with the others. "Merry Christmas, Jon," he murmured.
Standing beside the tree, he could look out his patio window at the city beyond. The lights of LA were always twinkling, but tonight, the colors were varied and the light more intense as the city celebrated the holiday. He leaned one shoulder against the cool glass and rested his cheek on the pane. Closing his eyes, he slipped into an exhausted haze. Christmas Eve was always the same. The single men worked so that the married men could be with their families, and the loonies came out of the woodwork. Drunk driving incidents increased and accidents happened right and left. It was impossible to be everywhere, yet he tried. Every year he tried to be right where he was needed.
A knock on the door brought him fully awake. He had been falling asleep on his feet. Shaking off the exhaustion, he looked over at the door. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Jon, gonna let me in?" The familiar voice of his partner floated through the door.
"It's open." Jon moved away from the window and returned to the couch as the door opened and Ponch walked in.
"This is LA, Jon," Ponch shut the door. "People lock their doors."
"So, lock it if it'll make you feel safer." Jon leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.
Ponch shook his head and stepped into the kitchen to help himself to a beer. "This is really bumming you out, isn't it?"
"Nooooooo," Jon answered wearily, "I always feel like this." He opened one eye. "Bring me one of those, will ya?"
Ponch re-opened the fridge and grabbed another bottle. "How many of these have you had?" He offered the bottle to Jon who took it and opened it.
"Just one," Jon answered him. "I'm not driving," his tone was sarcastic.
Ponch shook his head. "Jon, if you're going to let every accident get to you, then this job will age you long before your time." He stretched his legs out in front of him and slid down into the chair he had sat on.
"And it never gets to you," Jon remarked flatly. "Ponch the invincible."
Ponch's head snapped up and his eyes sparked. "Sure, it gets to me. I just don't let it affect me until I can't eat or sleep. Killing yourself, isn't the answer."
Jon shook his head slightly and then changed the subject. "You flying to Chicago tomorrow?"
"Nope," Ponch took a swig of his beer.
Jon looked up in concern, "Why not?"
"For one thing," Ponch set his beer onto the coffee table, "I only have two days off and I can't get a flight that will give me anytime with the family."
"And the other thing?" Jon prompted him as he yawned.
"My partner is planning to spend Christmas Day laying on his couch and beating himself over the head because he couldn't be in twelve places at the same time." Ponch smiled at him. "I'm going to keep him company."
"Gee, thanks," Jon said tiredly. "Are you planning to spend the night?"
Ponch nodded towards the gym bag that he had left sitting on the floor by the table.
Jon eyed it up with marginal interest. "No rock music."
Ponch grinned. "Heck no, it's Christmas. I'll play Christmas carols."
Jon glared at him. "I'm sure the neighbors will be thrilled."
Smiling Ponch settled back in his chair and the two men sat in a companionable silence and watched the lights blink on and off on the small tree.
Jon woke up to see sunlight streaming into the apartment. Sighing, he realized that he had slept in his uniform. Ponch was snoring peacefully in the chair next to him. "Good old, Ponch," Jon thought.
The knock on the door was weak, but loud enough for Jon to hear it. He was about to tell whoever it was to come in, but remembered that Ponch had locked the door the night before. He stood up and moved quickly over to open it before the knocking awakened Ponch.
To his surprise, a small boy in dirty clothes stood there. "I thought you might be home." The child stared earnestly up at the tall policeman. "I saw your lights on." He indicated the still blinking tree.
Jon stared at the tree and the sunlight streaming in behind it. "You have good eyes."
"I watched it most of last night." The child shrugged his shoulders. "I was taught that it isn't nice to bother people after 10:00 at night."
Jon nodded his head. "Yeah, I can understand that. What can I do for you?"
"Well," the little boy scratched his head, "I'd like to come in."
"Why?" Jon was puzzled and still sore from sleeping on the couch.
"Cause I'm hungry and I slept in the dumpster last night." The child began to scratch his arms energetically.
"I'll tell ya what," Jon sighed, "you can come in but you have to take a shower."
"I was kind of hoping you'd say that," the boy smiled up at him. He walked past Jon into the apartment and went straight towards the bathroom like he knew where he was going.
Shaking his head, Jon went into the bedroom where he produced a T-shirt and a pair of bike shorts. He knocked on the bathroom door. "Here's some clean clothes. They'll be too big, but I'm fresh out of kids clothes."
The bathroom door opened slightly and a dirty hand reached out to take the clothes inside. Within minutes, there was the sound of running water. Jon glanced at Ponch still sleeping in the chair and then went into the kitchen where he began to make an omelet.
By the time he had the eggs and toast on the table, the small boy had come out of the bathroom much cleaner but wearing the oversized clothing. "Thanks, that dumpster was really dirty."
"No problem," Jon offered him a plate piled high with eggs.
"Gee thanks," the child smiled and began shoving large forkfuls of egg into his eager mouth. In record time, the plate was clean.
"You're welcome," Jon replied to the unspoken thank you he saw in the face of his young guest.
"I knew you'd take me in," the child smiled at him. "I knew you wouldn't turn me away."
"Oh you knew that?" Jon smiled at him. "And how would you know that?"
"You always help when God gives you the opportunity," the child answered. "You just have to know that sometimes there's some other plan involved."
"How old are you?" Jon laughed.
"It's my birthday," the child answered. "I'd have to figure it out."
"That old, huh?" Jon teased. "Okay, Methuselah, but I have to call your parents or Children and Youth. Which is it going to be?"
"I'm Sus." The boy reached for the glass of milk next to his plate and drank it down.
"Zeus?" Jon asked.
"Yeah," the boy laughed. "You could say that."
Jon smiled. "Which is it going to be Zeus?"
"Can I have some more milk," the boy asked politely.
Jon nodded. "Sure, but then no stalling...." He turned and opened the refrigerator taking out the milk carton. "You'll have to tell me who your parents are....." His voice trailed off. The apartment was empty. Ponch was still asleep in the chair, but the boy was gone.
"Zeus? Zeus!" Jon set down the milk and began searching the apartment. "Zeus!"
Jon awoke with a start as Ponch shook him. "Zeus?"
"Who?" Ponch was laughing. "You'd better get up and go to bed, partner. Tomorrow's Christmas and Santa won't come unless you're in bed."
"It is tomorrow." Jon looked around him in confusion at the softly twinkling tree and the LA night coming through the window.
"No, tomorrow is tomorrow," Ponch grinned. "You're really tired. Go to bed."
"Where's Zeus?" Jon stood up and looked around for his small friend.
"Zeus?" Ponch asked in confusion. "Zeus, who?"
"The little boy that slept in the dumpster." Jon moved quickly into the kitchen and checked behind the counter.
"Partner, you've been dreaming." Ponch was becoming concerned for his friend.
Jon sat down heavily on the kitchen chair. "What kind of name is Zeus for a kid anyway?" He ran a hand through his thick blond hair.
"Sus?" Ponch shrugged his shoulders. "It's a nickname. It's short for Jesus."
"What?" Jon looked up sharply.
"Uh, you Anglos say Jesus, we say Hayzeus. It's a big honor to be named after the Savior of the World. That must have been some dream."
"Yeah, this little boy came to the door and asked to come in." Jon stared suspiciously at the door as though expecting the knock to come again.
Ponch sat down and stared at him. "Let me get this right. You dreamt that you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and let in a small boy named Jesus. You fed him and then he left."
"Yeah." Jon turned to look at him. "Funny dream, huh?"
Ponch just smiled at him. "You had best get out of that uniform and hit the sack."
Jon nodded agreement and went into the bedroom.
Ponch sat alone in the apartment and stared at the tree as it winked on and off. He stood up and walked to the window where he could look at the night sky. "Thanks for coming. He really needed you."