When he was younger, he'd always make the same one. On New Year's eve, he'd vow to try to get along better with his older brother in the upcoming year. Not for his brother's sake, but mostly just for his mother's. He'd make the same resolution, year after year, only to have it rendered null and void by January 2nd about ten times over. To make himself feel better, Ray'd tell himself that a resolution as big as that one only stood a chance had his brother made the exact same one, and even then is was a long-shot.
They never did manage to sync-up their resolutions, and when he hit his mid-teens, Ray just stopped trying.
He doesn't talk much to his brother anymore. Four times a year has become the 'in excess' number for them, three times is far more common. Ray's birthday, his birthday and Christmas. That's it. That's been it for the better part of a decade now. The conversations were always awkward; Ray always being sure to avoid asking about work, because he really didn't want to hear about it and have to pretend to be interested. It didn't matter how work was going, all that matter was that his job didn't involve police work. Whenever he talked with his brother, all Ray could hear was his father's voice in his head, and that voice only had one tone which was permanently set on: disappointed.
Deciding to skip watching the ball drop in Time Square on television, Ray turns in for the night about fifteen minutes shy of the whole ordeal. Laying in bed, he kind of wished he'd taken up smoking again, just so he'd be able to resolve to give something up. He'd been forced to kick the habit back before taking on the undercover job as Vecchio. Vecchio didn't smoke, so neither could Ray. There were plenty of times he wanted to -- he figures most of that is the Mountie's fault -- but couldn't. He doesn't really miss it anymore, though. Maybe he owes some sort of thank you to the guy or something.
He watches the new year anticlimactically move in, the time rolling over on his alarm clock as he bites his bottom lip. Rolling his eyes, he mentally curses at himself before resorting back to old habits and silently making the same stupid resolution he used to make as a kid. Not for his mother this time, but for himself.
Who knows? Maybe this time they'd get it right. Maybe this time they'd both sync-up.
Muse: Stanley Raymond "Ray" Kowalski
Fandom: due South
Word Count: 489