Christmas Coda 68 - Barry and Mike from HALLOWEEN IS MURDER

 

Christmas Coda 68 – Barry and Mike from Halloween isMurder

 

“Krampus,” Barry repeated.

“Right.” Mike’s pale green eyes were watchful. Maybe heheard it in Barry’s voice. Heard that finally, finally Barry had hadenough.

After three years of hunting monsters, who wouldn’t have hadenough?

Oh right. Mike. Mike hadn’t had enough. Mike, it seemed,would never have enough.

Barry said shortly, “And that’s its real name? Krampus? Oris that an alias?”

Mike frowned. “I briefed you on all this.”

Yep. He sure had. Here it was Christmas Eve, and they’dspent half the evening talking about a pagan German Hel-spawn—literally, theson of Hel, Norse God of the Underworld--nickname “claw.”

So much for the holly-jolly mood with which Barry hadstarted the day.

“Pals around with Santa,” Barry said in a bored voice.“Except his job is to punish the naughty kids.”

Mike’s weathered, blunt features were always a little difficultto interpret, but reading between the lines, he looked affronted. Or at leastas affronted as a monolithic slab can look. “What’s got into you, Fitzgerald?We’re not talking about lumps of coal, you know.”

Barry dropped his head in his hands and groaned. “Mike.For the love of God.” He raised his face and stared into Mike’s astonishedeyes. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know it’s Christmas Eve,” Mike snapped. “That’sthe point. This is the one night of the year when we get our shot at him. Lastyear we had the Delano job. The year before that, you insisted we had to stakeout the Ford place—”

“Paying jobs, Mike. Commitments we made to real live people.Human people.”

Mike, relentless, as a gear shift stuck in drive, plowed on.“And the year before that—”

He stopped.

Barry glared at him, waiting for him to say it, almost willinghim to say it, because that really would be the end. If Mike regretted spendingthat night, their first real night together, the sweetest, the happiest, the bestnight of Barry’s entire life—if Mike regretted spending that night withBarry instead of chasing monsters, then it really was the end.

And maybe it would be easier that way. Easier than hangingon, hoping that eventually, one day there would be time for them.

 Because after threeyears, a nice fat bank account, and a whole hell of a lot of unbelievably weirdnights, it was pretty clear that day was not coming any time soon.

Barry understood. He really did. Mike was a man with amission. A mission and an obsession. Barry understood the mission andsympathized with the obsession. But he didn’t share it. Either of them. Yes, hewas glad, even a little proud, to be able to take some of the credit for riddingthe world of yet another creature of the night. And some of these supernaturalcapers paid well. Unbelievably well. Some, like tonight, were pro bono. Anyway,the money wasn’t the point.  

The point was…

Well, it was hard to say what the point was. Not becauseBarry couldn’t articulate it, but because he wasn’t sure anymore of how Mikefelt. About them. About him. Maybe for Mike it really was just abouthaving someone to hunt monsters with.

As if reading Barry’s thoughts—part of his thoughts, Mikesaid, “I don’t remember you kicking about the dough.”

“The money’s good,” Barry agreed evenly. “The money’s great.Money isn’t everything.”

Mike snorted. “You don’t say, Socrates.”

Barry felt himself turn as red as Rudoph’s schnoz. He openedhis mouth, but for once he wasn’t sure what to say. Sure, he was irritated anddisappointed, but that was any partnership. He, well, he loved Mike. And he’dbeen riding along for the last three years thinking, assuming, Mike loved himtoo. Not that Mike had ever said so. Not in so many words. He’d said thingsthat Barry took to mean the same thing. But sometimes, you needed to hear thewords. Even a tough guy—semi tough guy—like Barry sometimes would have liked tohear the words. Needed to hear the words.

Before he could settle on a less embarrassing way to putthat into plain and simple syllables, Mike said shortly, crisply, “If you don’twant to go tonight, just say so. We’re wasting time.”

Barry’s head snapped back as if Mike had slapped him—that waswhat it felt like, for sure—his eyes narrowed, and he said flatly, “No. I’m notcoming tonight. I’m going to my sister’s and celebrate Christmas Eve with my family,the way we used to do.”

Mike absorbed it. Nodded once. Curtly.

“You’re welcome to come too. Celebrate together.” If Barrysounded stiff, it was because it was obvious that, after telling him that itwas a waste of time hearing him out, Mike was about going to decline hisinvitation with all the graciousness of a sledge hammer.

Sure enough, Mike’s lip curled sardonically. “Thanks. I’vegot a previous date.”

Barry rose from behind the desk, saying bitterly, “You know,Mike, it’s not like we’re ever going to run out of monsters.”

Mike had tensed when Barry stood up, but he said coolly, “Sure.See you the day after tomorrow, I guess?”

“I guess so.” Barry didn’t even care that his voice shookwith all that dumb pointless emotion that Mike didn’t share, didn’t evennotice.

Mike stared at him stonily for a moment, then walked out ofthe office. The door shut silently behind him.

Barry dropped down in his chair, rested his face in his hands,worked through the last five minutes. He didn’t think he was in the wrong. Butat the same time, Mike had this…this calling. This slayer vocation heritagething that went back generations. It probably wasn’t fair to spring it on him theway Barry had. He should’ve warned Mike earlier that he was, not wavering inthe mission, but that he wanted some kind of a life—a life with Mike—outside themission.

Not that Mike had seemed particularly interested in thatpart of the conversation.

Anyway, it didn’t matter because he couldn’t let Mike tacklethis Krampus guy alone. He’d give Mike tonight, and of course tomorrow they’dbe recovering from tonight, but maybe he could pitch the idea of taking sometime off for New Year’s. Or maybe even Valentine’s Day?

His natural resilience reasserted itself, and Barry was onhis feet again. He grabbed his hat and coat and was out the door, flying downthe stairs after Mike. He was praying Mike hadn’t left without him; he didn’twant to be traipsing all over Mt. Wilson on his own—but when he reached thesidewalk outside their office building, he spotted Mike leaning against his Chevrolet,arms folded like he was counting down the minutes.

He straightened up when he spotted Barry. The hard whitemoonlight illuminated his face, but it was like looking at a statue. The Colossusof Rhodes maybe.

Barry reached him, said sourly, “I guess you think you knowme pretty well.”

“I wasn’t waiting for you,” Mike said.

“No?”

“I was thinking.”

Barry’s brows shot up, but for once he kept the wisecracksto himself.

“You’re right. We’re never going to run out of monsters.”

“Well, it’s not like we can’t give it our best shot,” Barrysaid bracingly. Mike could be moody. He didn’t want him getting depressed abouthis family legacy.

As he studied Mike’s somber face, it came to him that it wasnow or never. He drew in a breath, said the thing that had been weighing on himfor months.

“Look. It’s just... It's six years we’ve known each other, Mike. I just wantsome time for us. Business is good. The money is good. It just seems like maybethere could be time to build something. For us. Together.”

It got a little choppy at the end, because Mike was staringat him like they hadn’t been properly introduced.

Finally, finally, Mike spoke.

“Then you meant it?"

"Uh, yeah. Which part?"

"About celebrating together tonight?” Ifit had been anyone else, Barry would have said there was a note of uncertaintyin Mike’s low voice.

“Hell yes, I mean it. Of course you should be there. Aren’twe…”

“Are we?” Mike asked.

“Aren’t we?”

These two lunk heads probably could have gone on like that for another fiveminutes, but Barry caught something out of the corner of his eye: a distantbright light skimming through the stars and gliding over City Hall. What was that? Aplane? No, the trajectory was wrong. A slow-motion shooting star?

“Hey, there goes Santa Claus,” he joked.

But Mike continued to gaze at him in that dark, troubled way. “It’sjust that your mind always seemed to be on the job.”

“Because your mind was always on the job. And thatwas okay when I was thinking we were working toward being able to have a lifetogether. A real life. Sleeping late on weekends and having barbecues in thebackyard and maybe going fishing sometimes.”

“You never said any of this before.” Mike sound ever soslightly accusing.

“I didn’t think I had to say it. And then I didn’t think thetime was right. I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear it.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to hear it? We’re together every night. Including the nights we're not working,”Mike protested. 

“Yeah, but we’re not talking!”

Mike laughed. Barry laughed too, a little uncertainly.

Was it going to be okay after all? Did they both—

Mike reached out, cupped the side of Barry’s face,whispered, “You should have said. I thought you were getting tired of all ofit. Of me.”

Barry shook his head. “No. No, I want more you. Less monsters. That’sall. That’s all I ask.” He pulled Mike’s palm from his face, kissed it. “I loveyou, Mike.” He smiled shakily, tried to kid, “And what would you likefor Christmas?”

Mike pulled him into a bone crushing embrace, whisperedagainst Barry’s ear, “I love you. How do you not know? I always have. I alwayswill.”

High, high above, something sparkled and flashed across thenight sky before disappearing from sight, quick and bright as a twinkle in theeye.