Non, rien de rien: A New Year's Vignette

"Do you regret it? Changin' your plans?"

Sharon raised her eyes to meet Brenda's, but didn't pause in the act of pouring out the correct dose of cough suppressant. The younger woman looked so pitiful that it would have been comical if she weren't so obviously miserable. Huddled in a ball on her side of the bed, red nose glowing as prominently as you-know-who's, she wore a ragged, stained LAPD sweatshirt that left her petite frame room to swim. Her feverish eyes were giant and earnest as she repeated, "Do you? Be honest."

Sharon would have had little trouble answering that afternoon, when her flight from Park City had been delayed and she'd had the pleasure of spending three hours in the tiny airport listening to Amy Grant's Christmas album on an endless loop interrupted by a toddler singing "Let it Go" at the top of her lungs in what Sharon was almost positive was Mandarin. (She had vastly preferred the vocal stylings of the child.)

She had wanted the last-minute decision to return to LA to be a surprise to Brenda, but what if the younger woman had taken Sharon's advice and made her own last-minute plans? So she'd called ahead. Brenda Leigh had sounded touched... and stuffy.

"I don't think it's anythin'," she had informed the captain cheerily. "I'm drinkin' tea and takin' vitamin C. I'll see you at the airport."

When Sharon had finally gotten to LA and been greeted from a message in which Brenda, in a very small voice, asked her if she'd mind takin' a cab to the blonde's house, because she had a fever and was sleepin' it off, the captain had begun seriously questioning her recent decision-making. Why had she not stayed at the timeshare with her three children, who were all in the same place and not squabbling? It was bad enough that now she'd have to put up with their knowing smirks and Emily's incessant questions; at this rate she wouldn't even make it to Brenda's by midnight.

And that had been before she'd realized the airline had lost her luggage.

She would have had an answer to Brenda's question on the tip of her tongue while she was in stand-still traffic on the freeway. After 45 minutes, she'd strongly considered cracking open the over-priced airport champagne and offering to share with Sahir, the cab-driver.

She wasn't mad at her not-quite-girlfriend for getting sick; she was mad at herself. There was a reason she never tried to make actual plans with Brenda Leigh Johnson: something always, always went wrong. It was as if they were jinxed, not that the captain believed in such things.

When Brenda had answered the door and leaned back when Sharon leaned in to kiss her, the captain had had a definite answer to Brenda's question.

"I think I have the flu," the blonde had greeted her.

Sharon had sent Brenda straight to bed with a dose of cold medicine and a mug of hot tea with honey. She had then made them a gourmet dinner of Campbell's finest and grilled cheese. She'd cursed herself for not packing her biohazard suit.

Of course, it wouldn't have mattered if she had an entire CDC team in her luggage, since her luggage was in Utah.

She had rooted through Brenda's dresser until she found yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt that fit her, and settled down on the far side of Brenda's bed, beyond what she was silently referring to as the hot zone. New Year's Rockin' Eve didn't have quite the same appeal when you were in the Pacific time zone, but Brenda insisted that it was a tradition. Sharon had merely smacked the box of lotion-enhanced tissues down between them, as if to say, Thou shalt not pass.

Now Sharon merely passed Brenda the tiny plastic cup of medication. "Take this, if you can stop coughing long enough. Would you like some more tea?"

Brenda shook her head. She looked even more miserable than she had earlier. Her nose scrunched as she swallowed the violently orange liquid. "I'm so sorry, Sharon. You were so sweet and - and romantic to come back like this, and I'm ruinin' it."

The younger woman sounded so tragic that Sharon had to suppress a smile. "Hush," she scolded. "I'll be right back."

In the kitchen she poured one glass of champagne and dribbled a child-sized amount into a second flute. The corners of Brenda's mouth turned down with petulance when she saw what the captain had done.

"Is that all I get?"

"Yes. You're medicated."

The frown became more pronounced. "And why'd you open it now anyway? It's not even 9:00."

Sharon cocked her head toward the television. The countdown was on the verge of beginning in Times Square.

"It's almost midnight in New York, and you need to sleep." She handed over the second flute and moved the tissue box so she could snuggle into Brenda's side.

"You'll get sick!" Brenda fretted. "I don't want your death on my conscience."

"Honey, it's a cold."

"You're gonna get it."

"I know." Sharon smiled. "But they say the person you kiss at midnight is the person you'll be with all year long, so -" She shrugged.

Brenda wiped her runny nose and smiled back. "Yeah? You think this is our year?"

"A girl can hope."

The television filled the room with a background roar of cheering as the new year began on the East Coast. Sharon held Brenda's gaze for a moment before leaning in to kiss her, chastely but sweetly.

As they sipped their champagne, Brenda again asked, "Are you sure you don't regret changin' your plans? Even now that you're gonna get the plague?"

The blonde was unnaturally pale where she wasn't fever-flushed. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her hair needed to be combed. She looked so beautiful that Sharon's heart ached, and the captain knew there was absolutely no place on earth she'd rather be than with the woman she loved, inclement weather, lost luggage, LA traffic and viruses be damned.

Such a declaration would have been a bridge too far; Sharon had met her spontaneity quota for the day. So she smirked. "Nope."

Brenda's face lit up when she smiled. "Happy New Year, Sharon."

Sharon clinked her glass against Brenda's nearly-empty one and felt her own face light up. There was a funny little tickle in her throat that she knew was not the beginning of a cold. She swallowed and smiled back. "Happy New Year, Brenda."