Post 480: Somehow, It Feels Like Christmas

Stardate: 71008.1800
Title: Somehow, it feels like Christmas
Author: Lt. Grace
Scene: Camps of Yensul V
Time: Concurrent with "Mothers and Daughters Part Two"
-----------------------------

Reece and Grace, still recovering from their crash-related injuries, sat quietly now by one of the larger fires in the cavern.

They watched as Simon Biggs checked over the last of the children from the camps with a tricorder and offered them what comfort he could in the way of warmer clothing and a few cookies he'd stashed away in his pack.

He ran out of clothing just before the last girl shyly approached. She had selflessly waited for all the other children to go first. "Oh, so you've been hiding on me, have you?" he asked. She looked at him with curiosity, and then turned to go realizing his hands were empty.

"Wait, hold on. I have yours right here, sweetheart." He reached into his own backpack and gave her his only spare shirt and the thermal blanket he had brought for his own use. "Might be a little big but it'll be warm. Off you go then."

February shook her head. "That's our Simon. I swear his heart is as big as the whole wide world." She immediately pulled the blanket from her own pack so she could give it to him. She and Reece were making do with just one between them. "Be right back."

Dabin shook his head, watching February as she talked with Biggs and thinking that he'd never imagined he'd have this thought again in his life or Reece's; but in this moment as he stared at her, he was in fact having it.

He could clearly picture himself married to this woman. Happily married to her. *I promised myself after Hood, I'd never consider it again,* he thought, *But maybe.*

Across the cave a faint, passing thought ran through Grace's mind and she almost smiled. Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of his brain, Reece was thinking about marriage. She couldn't tell at this instant if he was thinking well or ill of the institution.

They'd talked only briefly at this beginning point in their relationship about how the other felt concerning the issue.

She knew that he'd proposed to Jaine Hood early and often in their long relationship, but they had never made it to the altar. She had caught him thinking more than once, "never ever ever ever again," when it came to the thought of ever proposing the union to anyone, but she wondered somehow if he'd ever consider it if he were asked.

Only one of Grace's previous hosts had done marriage well, that was Gentry. His marriage was solid and life-long, where as her only other host who had married, Kimare, had the habit of marrying poorly and frequently in haste before getting quickie Risian divorces.

*Repeatedly.* February thought sadly. She didn't ever want to live like that. Whether or not their union was ever made legal, she was sure that she and Dabin were meant to be together for the rest of their lives.

*How ever long that turns out to be,* she thought now. Seeing him injured, so suddenly and quickly had terrified her to the core. Even though he was on the way to recovery, they were still stranded here on this gods-forsaken ice cube, the Alchemy was trashed and they had no way that she could think of to break through the projected facade of the planet to send a message home.

She held out hope, but when she saw how life here had treated the local inhabitants, she wondered how many of them would make it off of this world alive.

Simon and Andara Maffe had been talking and laughing quietly as Simon handed out the last of the gifts for the children. Maffe's mood had elevated considerably after he had assured her that only one or two had truly serious health concerns.

"I've given a handful of the girls a hypo of antibiotics for the infection in their lungs," Simon was not surprised at all that some had succumbed to pneumonia, living under these frigid conditions. "They should be free of the cough in a day or so."

"You are truly a gift from the heavens," Maffe's eyes shone brightly. She realized suddenly that Grace was standing beside them and quickly her expression returned to one of the detached leader of her people. "Thank you for your hard work, Ensign Biggs. I will not forget your kindness."

"I am sorry to interrupt," Bru interjected, as she handed Simon her blanket. "I see you're one short. Please take this one. We don't need it."

"Thanks, Bru." Simon smiled at her with affection, and Maffe was curious now about their relationship.

"You know Lt. Grace well?" she asked, just the slightest hint of what sounded like jealousy in her voice as Grace walked away. She had never spent so much time around males before today, and she found that she felt strange whenever she saw Simon. She wondered why that was. She was also quite taken with his vocal accent which was different from the rest of the crew. She made a note to ask him later why that was so.

"We're good friends, Bru and I. We've been through some adventures together."

"But you are not. . .were never. . ." Maffe searched for the appropriate word. "Involved?"

"Oh, no. Not like that. She's just a friend. She's in love with Lt. Reece," he gestured toward the pair as Bru rejoined Dabin by the fire and rested her head on his shoulder.

"So I see. I have never seen anything like this. Nor have I seen a smile like yours, Simon Biggs. What are you thinking?"

He settled down onto the ground and threw the blanket over Maffe's shoulders, instead of using it himself. "I was thinking that I know how it feels now to be Santa Claus. Somehow, it feels a lot like Christmas Eve."

"To be who?"

Simon laughed gently. "Santa Claus. He is a mythical figure from my home world, Earth. One night a year, in the winter when everything is white with snow, he appears in the houses of every family on my planet, so they say, and leaves gifts beneath a decorative tree for the children. Toys mostly. But clothing and other necessities as well if they are needed."

"If he is mythical then where do the gifts really come from?"

"From the parents and families of the children. But the myth is still perpetuated for its charm. The holiday is special to many on Earth, some for religious reasons. Some just because it's a time for family to return home and be together."

"It sounds amazing. What did you say this observance is called?"

"It's called. . ." Simon felt heartbroken suddenly, realizing that never again would his entire family be together for Christmas. Two chairs at the table would forever be empty now. "Christmas."

He rose and hurried away from Maffe, and she jumped up, holding the blanket over her shoulders as she chased after him.

"Simon, wait! I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Simon shook his head. His cheeks were red, and his eyes glazed over with moisture. "No."

"I did. I've injured you somehow. I meant no harm, asking questions."

"You've done no harm." He answered, still not meeting her gaze.

Maffe gently lifted his chin with her hand, eyes filled with genuine concern. "Then tell me, what troubles you so?"

"That last girl, the one I gave my blanket to," he began slowly. "She reminded me of my sister. Jenny. When she was younger."

"Oh, you have a sister?"

"Had." Simon replied, speaking the past-tense word for the first time aloud to this woman who was a virtual stranger to him. He hadn't been able to tell anyone on his own crew, his friends and colleagues. But he could tell this woman, who had suffered so much loss herself, and somehow it felt safe.

"She. . .died recently. In an attack on a supply depot. With my father."

"Oh, Simon." She pressed her hand against his cheek. "I am very sorry."

"You're the first person I've told. I only found out just before Alchemy left on the mission, and I," he stopped.

Maffe's eyes told him that he didn't need to say any more. "You're tired, Simon Biggs. You must rest, conserve your strength now. The fire is warm, and you are among friends here. Everything is going to be all right." She reached out and took his hand, and without another word, led him back toward the fire.

-------------------------------------------
Lt. February Grace
Helm/Flight Controller
Independence/Alchemy