A/N: I nearly forgot about this. I already had this written for Christmas last year but finished it too late to post it last year so decided to keep it for this year. In hindsight, that was a really good idea because I even had to forfeit my Secret Santa participation because ever since graduating my Master's (yes. I did it. I graduated. Two years too late but I did it), I've been hit with a pretty bad spell of writer's block. Sa bad that I pretty sure wouldn't have had a Christmas story this year if it hadn't been for this one. Anyway, theoretically, this is an Off the Record piece but since it takes place in Season 3 of Atlantis, not 1 I can't post it as an Off the Record piece (at least not now). This is why it's titled as "Interlude". As soon as a I get to actually writing and posting the Off the Record stories for Season 3, it will be incorporated into it. For now, enjoy this one and happy holidays everyone :)

For Goodness Sake

"He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!

You better watch out!
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town."

"Santa Claus is Coming to Town"

One

Moore

Ah, yeah, lovely. A full rotation security and surveillance shift while the rest of the city is doing their best to get roaring drunk on the limited alcohol supplies we have here; otherwise known as "the annual end of the year holiday party". Please kill me now.

Reece says it's unlikely that things will get too rowdy here, seeing as even the Marines we get are sent here because they have a modicum of brains left in their heads and that people remember very well that this base is still closer to an FOB in The Middle of Nowhere, Iraq than your average complacent military base on US soil, even if we do have slightly better showers than your run of the mill G.I. Joe in the Middle East. And seeing that Reece by now served about three years here, I'm inclined to believe her.

But dammit, I really did want to go to that damn party.

Pretty sure my entire team still believes that we'd be at that party now if I hadn't had complained about being tasked with the most stupid jobs by the IT department but I maintain that us being here is the result of Evan Lorne being drunk on his XO powers and Lorne still being pissed at us for witnessing the little spat between him and Zelenka in the game room a couple weeks ago. Even if I did nothing but complain about the IT department business for two whole weeks in a row. And maybe I also rigged the IT department's head's computer to reply to any and all e-mails with nothing but the worst juvenile dirty jokes I could come up with but really, the guy had it coming. Just look at what…

"Sergeant?" Huh? What does Morsberg want from my NCO?

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you think are the chances he's going to keep up his brooding for the entire shift?" Funny. Really funny. Asshole. Honestly, the only reason I agreed to take him on my team was that he was the only available off-world qualified medic willing to…

"I'd say minimal, Mats." Hey, what did I ever do to you, Reece? Also, I thought we had established that the only nickname Morsberg gets called is Moose? "Just give it five more minutes and he's going to complain very loudly."

"Oh," Morsberg replies, and I'm pretty sure know what's coming now, "you mean like he did for the last two weeks?" Yep, called it. Just wait for it…

"Well, complaining very loudly is one of his superpowers, sir." Okay, that's enough.

I swivel around, facing my team lounging around on the surveillance room's two couches. "I'm sitting right here. I can hear you, you know."

Reece grimaces and it's very apparent that she's pissed off for some reason. "We'd certainly hope so, sir."

Okay, that's weird. Despite hardening up a good bit and standing up to me way more often than she used to at the SGC, Reece always takes great care to be professional and matter-of-factly about it. I don't think I've ever heard that cynical undertone before when she geared up to oppose something I said or did. I frown. "Who pissed in your cheerios this morning, Captain?"

She shrugs, making a show of being totally relaxed and casual. "Nah, it's fine. I'm good. Don't worry." She is and has always been a terrible liar.

I throw Dee a short look, wordlessly asking him what the hell is wrong but he dares inclining his head to the side just a little bit. Dee body language shorthand for "You're on your own here, buddy." How dare he?

Mystified, I turn back to Reece. "Okay, spill it."

Raised eyebrows and a mock clueless tone I haven't ever heard from her before. "I'm sorry, spill what?"

What is going on here? Dee? Morsberg? A little help? "Come on, something's bothering you. You blame me for something. Just get it over with and tell me."

Something tells me I probably shouldn't push her like this, especially in front of Dee and Morsberg but I couldn't help it. I just really want to know what the fuck's got her in a funk like that. She, apparently, isn't very eager to tell me, though. "Like I said, I'm good. Really. I love being on security and surveillance detail on Christmas Eve. Nothing better than sitting here and watching the entire city lose their head because of one stupid holiday."

Actually, it's a bit more than one – as she told me just two days ago when I couldn't quite get behind the whole "end of the year holiday party" thing – but pointing that out to her now would probably be counter-productive. Also, I think I finally got what this is about. "Wait, is this about your inexplicable hate for Christmas somehow?" The way she just rolled her eyes tells me very clearly that it is. Which is why I can't help wondering, "Then again, that would be weird. I always thought you didn't mind working over the holidays."

In fact I know she doesn't. The one Christmas we had at the SGC we spent first holed up in an off-world winter wonderland because I volunteered the team to take over a mission from Lorne's team and then at her and Laura's apartment, licking our wounds from said off-world mission. If it hadn't been for that botched mission, she'd have spent the entire holidays on call at the SGC. Aside from that, I thought that last Christmas – the first I spent in Atlantis and she ended up falling asleep right next to me on my couch – kinda maybe might have cured her a little from her dislike for Christmas?

Reece, however, doesn't confirm my assumption as I'd expected. Instead, she does something absolutely inexplicable. Something like giving a very pissed off sound and then jumping up, even going as far as throwing her hands up. "You really don't get it, do you?" and with that she's… gone.

What the fucking hell?

We're on security and surveillance, which means that we're supposed to exclusively spent our time in the surveillance/on call room, as long as we aren't somewhere in the city, unfucking whatever mess her inhabitants got into for an entire planetary day. And she just stomped out of that room we're supposed to stay in for the duration of our duty.

That is definitely not the Captain Maureen Reece I know. After getting over my initial shock I blink and throw both Dee and Morsberg a look that must be suspiciously alike to a deer in headlights. Naturally, both of them look at me. Like it was my fault Reece just deserted her post like that. I snap at them, "What?"

In the end, none of them give me a verbal answer, just a look that clearly says, "Go undo the clusterfuck you just caused," and the thing I hate most about myself is that I actually get up, growl something like, "Don't break anything while I'm gone," and set off to find her.

I'm almost sure that Morsberg silently flips me off behind my back but I'll let it slide tonight. It's Christmas etc. blahblahblah. And while Morsberg and Dee get to frolic about the on call room, I get to walk the festive halls of Atlantis in search of my linguist. God, I hate it when she does that running and hiding thing.

Truth to be told, she doesn't do it that often, hasn't even been doing it much even at the SGC but I guess that's what makes it so annoying when it does happen. She just… gets up, walks away and holes up somewhere, preferably solitary and high up. Normally, I'd let her do her thing because I've learned that she needs that time away from everyone to work out her issues but yeah, did I mention that we're on duty?

I shake my head. That's really not like her standard performance. Okay, which of her usual haunts seems most likely this time? Her most favorite is a balcony high above the city, in an unused part of the city. I've found her there for the first time after we nearly beat the shit out of each other in the workout room – we had issues that needed solving, okay? – shortly after Dee and I came with the Daedalus, and a few more times after that.

But something tells me that she didn't go there today. It's too far away from the inhabited parts of the city, she'd need too long to get to a spot of trouble… I think I know where she went. Veering off my previous course, I bypass a few common rooms and end up in front of a glass door leading to a small balcony – for some reason, Reece really has a thing for balconies – and yep, there she is. Pacing around and then leaning on the railing, her face buried in her hands. Looking like she knows very well that she made the wrong call with running out of the room.

By rights, I should just head out there, give her an almighty dressing down and then drag her back to the surveillance room. Which would be of exactly zero use in actually solving this. This requires talking, and I hate "talking". I sigh. Okay, whatever.

Squaring my shoulders and rolling my head, I walk through the door. At the sound of the door sliding open, I can see her reacting with a very small jerk – someone's gotten a lot better at not letting the change in situation get to her – but other than that, no change in her posture. Right. Whatever I said or did today really got to her.

I take a deep breath. "Kid?"

I don't really know what I expected as an answer but it sure wasn't her hanging her head for a moment and then straightening up and giving me a slightly resigned, "Please, just get it over with, okay?"

Uh, okay. "Get it over with what?"

I can see that she really wants to roll her eyes but can just barely resist. "Oh, you know. Abandoned my post, yelled at a superior, Conduct Unbecoming, yadda, yadda, the full Monty."

Ah, fuck, I didn't want to laugh, didn't even want to grin but fuck, that was just a little bit too funny for me not to at least smirk a little. "Yeah, you're right, I really should do that." You know, if I were what you'd call a proper commanding officer. Since I've apparently never managed to become one, I guess it's too late to start now. "Or you could tell me what all of this is about."

She frowns. "All of what, sir?" Ah, and we're back to the sir. I know I told her to call me Tom as long as we're off duty but to be honest, that restriction was mostly for her benefit. I knew she wasn't ready to go past rank when I asked her to drop it but to be honest, it's really starting to chafe that she still clings to rank and sir whenever she can. I don't even know why but it's driving me fucking crazy.

But yeah, we got some more pressing problems right now. I wave around my hand. "Oh, you know. Abandoning your post, yelling at your superior, Conduct Unbecoming, yadda, yadda, the full Monty."

Aha, I just bet she's this close to rolling her eyes and giving me one of those reluctant grins – she wants to, I can see that as clear as day – but so far, she seems to be able to fight that impulse. Instead, she goes for running a hand through her hair, partly messing up the tight bun she keeps all those curls in. "I'm… sorry, sir. That was all uncalled for. I… formally apologize and…"

Oh good God. "Yeah, yeah, apology accepted, etc." She can't really believe that I'm here for a stupid apology, right? Laura pulled things a lot more "unbecoming" and "uncalled for" and I never called her on it. Hell, at some point Dee threatened me with my own knife. And me… let's really not go into all the stupid things I did over the course of my career. I can't resist another sigh. "Look, Kid, no need to apologize. Just tell me what the hell I did wrong this time, please?"

See, that's why no one ever takes me seriously as a commander. Because, in the wrong moments, I always add stuff like "please" and ask people to do things instead of simply ordering them to. That's why Evan Lorne is executive officer for the entire Pegasus contingent and I barely qualify to lead a four man team. Not that I mind, but once in a while… "It's… it's not really something you did wrong."

Huh. I raise my eyebrows at her and she's evading my eyes. "Somehow, I have trouble believing that."

"Yeah," she mutters and incredibly even adds in that same low, under her breath voice, "that's because you always think it's about you."

The fucking nerve… I take another deep breath. Judging from the lovely blush creeping up her neck and cheeks, she knows exactly that she just did this thing where she sometimes lets her mouth get away with something her brain would never have allowed it to say. Nowadays, that lack of brain to mouth filter usually requires a heavy dose of painkillers and/or anesthetics but now and then, it does happen when she's completely sober. Unfortunately, I love those little moments too much to be really pissed off at her, and right now, it was a prime moment. Laura would have been so fucking proud of her.

"Okay," I manage to grind out, "let's all just pretend you didn't say that and rewind to right before you did. Now… tell me what the fuck went wrong back in the surveillance room? Please?"

"I…" she fumbles around, fingers curling around the edge of her flak vest, needlessly straightening it before something seems to ripple through her, somehow taking all her defenses with it and she ends up sitting on the floor, with her back against the balcony's railing and her legs drawn towards her chest as far as the geared up flak vest and the leg holster for her Beretta allow.

She looks so dejected for a moment that I can't help but sit down next to her, gingerly, so as not to spook her again. For a moment, I'm back at my quarters, last Christmas, Reece standing in front of my door, the blackout, Reece falling asleep next to me… I blink and shake my head slightly. Better not get lost in that again. Ever again.

Better focus on the here and now. I consider how to make her spill whatever just happened but as Laura once pointed out I'm really horrible at making someone talk so I keep my mouth shut and concentrate on not making this any more uncomfortable for her than it already seems to be.

In the end, surprisingly, keeping quiet pays off because after another moment of silence, she says, "It's really not your fault, or at least not entirely." Right. That's… good? "I'd just have preferred to spent tonight in my quarters or you know, up there," meaning the other balcony I mentioned, "just not… that close to all that holiday cheer."

Okay. At least that explains why she was so pissed off at having to be on security and surveillance duty on Christmas Eve. For someone who hates to be around people celebrating Christmas, having to keep watch in front of the cameras for almost an entire rotation – minus everyone's sleep breaks – is probably like having to be right in the middle of it. I get being cranky about that. What I don't get, though, is, "Why is that so bad, anyway?"

For a moment, I can nearly see Laura right in front of me, rolling her eyes and telling me "Way to go, asshole, why don't you just permanently attach your foot to your fucking mouth?" because it looks very much like that was the exact wrong thing to say but then, maybe out of some Christmas miracle or something, she just looks away and buries her head in her hands again. Before saying, in a voice almost too low to be heard over the distant crashing of waves against Atlantis's piers and the soft drizzle of rain pattering down, "I guess it's mostly Mom's fault."

Um. Alright. Yes. What? I blink. "What do you mean, your mother's fault?"

She doesn't look at me. "It's just… my mom was married before she met my father. They had me pretty late, were both in their late thirties." Here's the thing: I didn't even know that. So yeah, it's in her files but she never told me about it. She hasn't told me much beyond "they died in a car accident when I was in my senior year at college" about her parents, at all. Then again… I never asked, either. "So anyway, my dad wasn't her first husband. She had this other guy, met him in college when they were both protesting against the Vietnam War, got married when they were in their senior year. And then, you know, the inevitable happened."

Right. Okay. I think I know where this is going. I swallow. "He got drafted?"

She nods. "Yep. Made it about six months into his tour and that was that."

For a moment, the casualness in her tone makes me start but then I have one of my rare revelations. She's not really being casual about the whole thing, she's just trying to put some distance between herself and the whole thing. Laura would be proud. Wouldn't she? And then, just like that, another revelation. "Let me guess: happened around Christmas?"

There's a small nod from her. "December 23rd 1968, to be precise." Huh, considering that she didn't even know that guy… "And yes, you may wonder "Gee, why in the world would she know that?"" Sarcasm, Reece? Please don't. For some reason, it always makes me all hot and bothered. "The answer's easy: Arlington." Arlington? "That's where we usually spent December 23rd. We visited his grave and my maternal grandfather's grave – you know, the one who was a Marine in the Pacific?" Uh, no. No, I didn't know that. "Anyway, he died in December 1955, how's that for stupid coincidence? Oh, also my paternal grandfather's, paternal grandmother's… surprisingly many of my family are buried there, considering we're not really a military family."

I can't believe she just told me more about her family in the last couple minutes than in the entire four years we've been serving together. Why… why did she never tell me that? And why, in God's name, did I never ask? "Look, Kid, I…"

She waves her hand dismissively. "'S okay. You know that it's not your fault, right? If I'd wanted to tell you earlier, I would have."

That's not that reassuring, Kid. Means until now, after years, there was some reason you didn't feel comfortable around me to tell me, or maybe didn't trust me enough. Some of that is my fault, and I wish I knew what. But yeah, guess she's not going to tell me so I decided to let it lie for now and focus on the task at hand. "That doesn't sound like the best Christmas of all times, to be honest."

She snorts humorlessly and makes a gesture with her hands, something that speaks of helplessness and I think I'm starting to see it now. Her mother never really got over losing her first husband – and probably her father, thinking about it – and Christmas kept reminding her of the loss, every damn year. As a result… "Well, let's just say that Christmas was usually spent with visiting graves and then Mom and Dad fighting, so… you know. Not a happy time." Okay, I guess she doesn't hate Christmas, then. She probably just never really had a reason to like it.

Well. I guess I owe her an apology. "Hey, look, I'm sorry I…"

"God, why am I even telling you this?" Huh? "I must have lost my fucking mind, that's why."

Ah, someone thinks she totally went oversharing. I nearly let it slip, knowing how embarrassed something like that usually makes her and how much she usually wants anyone who got to listen to it to forget it ever happened but tonight, something makes me say, "Yeah, chances are that's the best explanation." Okay, that was mean. I nearly expect her to cream me again, so I hasten to add, "Or maybe it was because I'm your friend?"

You know what's really weird? That I didn't even know I actually meant that before I said it out loud. I am her friend. Or at least I'd like to be. I'd really, really like to be Maureen Reece's friend, like, officially. Like Dee and Morsberg are her friends. Like Laura used to be. Like Cadman became one in the course of last year.

There's a long, painful moment of silence when neither of us says anything, and I know that my hope of being her friend just like all those other people was futile. I'm not her friend. Not for her. I'm… "I… sir…"

"Tom." Right. She's probably about to tell you to leave her the fuck alone and stop pushing yourself towards her and you go on telling her to call her by your first name. As in, all the time, not just off duty. Go on, you really can't mess it up any more. "That's me, you know. That's what my friends call me. Even on duty."

Again, I'm not sure what I expected her to say. But it sure as hell wasn't, "Really? How come Dee never calls you anything but sir?"

Before I know it, the words, "That's something entirely else," are out of my mouth and it takes me all until I notice that little grin tucking at the corners of her mouth to realize that she nearly successfully manipulated me into abandoning the current topic. Goddammit. "And we're not going to discuss that now."

"Roger that, sir." That's just not fair. Next to Dee, Reece is the person with the best poker face I know and none of them even play poker. I swear to God, Dee and Reece are the only people who can pull off straight-faced – as long as Reece doesn't actively attempt to lie – so perfectly that sometimes, I have no idea whether they're being ironic or serious. Like, you know, now.

Either way, I'm getting fed up with the entire situation and anyway, we're still on duty and if Lorne happens to come across the surveillance room right now, my ass will most certainly be on the line because Dee and Morsberg are actually frolicking about it, just out of spite so I decide to cut the crap right now and get up and offer her my hand. Reece's only reaction is looking up at me with her eyebrows raised, only millimeters away from that "oh God, the Major's being an idiot again, isn't he?" look she seems to have perfected since we got back on the same team. I try to ignore it to get the fucking job done. "Come on, Captain, we're still on duty. Get with the program."

Because see, I've learned a thing or two about coaxing – manipulating is such an ugly word – Maureen Reece into doing something she's not too keen on in the last year, as well. If there's anything that gets her going it's either pushing her or appealing to her sense of duty. So yep, she rolls her eyes but she also clasps my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. And I remember something. I'd half decided against it just last night but something in her still a little dejected stance makes me add, "'Sides… I got something for you."

She frowns at me. "You do?"

Well. No getting out of it now. I give a little sigh. "Yeah. And for the guys, as well. I know it's not Christmas Day yet and all… anyway, we'll need to make a short detour to my quarters. Let's get going, huh?"

I'm positive that she just wanted to roll her eyes again and give me some shit about still being on duty and having to get with the program but in the end she surprises me and rolls her shoulders, then says, "Sure. Let's get going… Tom."

What the…? I blink and look at her and there's a very small, very lovely, almost mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and… I'm a goner. Something in my head just snaps and I know I shouldn't be doing it, especially not out in public but I just can't help it and put my arm around her shoulders, even risk a squeeze and I guess my Christmas present this year is that she doesn't immediately hack the arm off but instead just shakes her head and you know… let's me do my thing.

Merry fucking Christmas to me, holy hell.