Here I am again, as promised. This fic will be Deborah's past, and her future will come in another fic, which I'll write in alternate chapters with this (so never fear, more is to come).

As always, nothing that you recognise is mine, but rather belongs to Mr Finnemore

Chapter 1

The rocking of the car and the clunking rumble of the wheels on the tarmac, the wind rushing past the slim gap in the windows, was loud and annoying, but Debbie could easily drown that out and ignore the discomfort; the one thing that was really, really irritating, was how difficult the motion was making it to read her comic book. Archie had rebelled at her calling it a comic, claiming that it was a 'graphic novel', but Debbie didn't care; he didn't want them anymore, so she could call them what she liked.

At her side, Archie was stretched out on the seat beside her, scratching away at his notepad and ignoring her completely; Debbie didn't know why he had come with them. Then again, he was twenty eight; he had stopped being fun long before she had been born.

The summer holidays had been fun to begin with, but then her eleventh birthday had been and gone, and they only had a week left before her parents shipped her off to the posh school that they had found; Debbie hadn't been around when they had done the same thing to Archie, but he kept telling her that it would be a laugh. Archie said a lot of things, and Debbie tended put her hands over her ears.

She didn't know why her parents had wanted to drag her around Scotland at the end of August, but it seemed like they just wanted to do all of the adult things, and couldn't have left her at home; that was alright though, Debbie had Archie's old Star Trek comics to trawl through. While Mum and Dad and Archie pretended to be all serious and appreciative of the things that they were looking at, Debbie was happy to read and imagine that she was in the place of whichever member of the Enterprise took her fancy.

Often Kirk, but sometimes she'd imagine that she was Uhura, or one of the other women, saving the day with their clever schemes.

Any kind of distraction was good, especially as her parents were talking about some relative of theirs and taxes…or at least, Debbie thought that it was taxes; she didn't recognise a lot of the words, but they were definitely the sort of words that came on the bills when she read them over Dad's shoulder.

"You know, I really wish you wouldn't read so much when we're on holiday." Debbie glanced up from the colourful pictures and speech to see her mother peering over the back of her seat, watching her daughter with eyebrows pinched and brow furrowed; blonde hair carefully coifed, and brown eyes crinkled within their pencilled lines, Victoria Richardson was the picture of unnecessary concern, "You've only got a week left before you're back at school; you should be enjoying this as much as you can."

"I'll put it away when we get there." Debbie replied, laying the comic down on her knees, but not closing the pages; Mum was always a bit of a bother, fussing over what she was doing, trying her to get to do things that she found fun, but Debbie had learnt that enduring instead of whining allowed her to get back to whatever she had been doing before.

"And leave it in the car?" Mum prompted pointedly; she fixed Debbie with her sternest glare, pleasant and light, as if she had actually been able to intimidate her since before her eighth birthday.

"No." Debbie answered, shaking her head and curling her hands around her comic; she wanted to do as she was told, but she knew that she was going to be bored the moment that the car stopped, "I'm going to put it in my bag in case I get bored."

There was no doubt that she was going to be bored, Debbie knew that; this would be the third whiskey distillery that they had dragged her around, so enthused by the idea of absorbing the Scottish culture, and Debbie had had enough. She had liked the towns, and the historical bits, for as long as it took for her feet to grow tired and her stomach to rumble, but now she just wanted to go home. But Debbie could behave herself, so long as she had something to entertain her; her comics were coming with her even if she had to sneak them in under her shirt.

"Oh, Debbie-" Mum started to scold her, sighing and shaking her head, letting her eyes flutter closed; but she was interrupted, as Albert Richardson, probably rolling his eyes, turned away from the road and flicked a hand towards his wife.

"Let the girl read, Vee." Dad drawled, as he placed both hands on the wheel; Debbie smiled at his reflection in the rear view mirror, and shuffled her comic further up her knees, hugging it closer, "It's a good thing. She'll grow up articulate and brainy, won't you darling?"

"Mrs Collins did say that my vocabulary was at a year eight level." Debbie agreed proudly; that was likely to please Mum for a bit, and maybe make Dad preen enough to let her get away with whatever she wanted, and perhaps buy her some things in the gift shop. And it would annoy Archie, which was always nice.

"It's because you've been learning from your books and our car games." Dad remarked brightly, flicking his gaze up to meet hers in the mirror; he liked to boast about how clever his daughter was, the both of them did. It was sort of nice, and Debbie couldn't bring herself to stir up the bravery to ask him to tone it down; the rewards were worth it.

"Yes, I told her that that was probably why." Debbie replied nonchalantly, acting as if it were no big deal; in truth, it wasn't, as she was always near the top of her class in at least half of her subjects (except maths and sciences), but it took a lot of hard work, more that Mum seemed to think, "She was very impressed though; she gave me a high achievers badge and everything."

"You should have told me!" Mum exclaimed, her face splitting into a wide smile, any trace of her despair gone in a second; Debbie forced a smile, pleased somewhat by the promise of a peaceful rest of the drive, free of any bickering, "I could have put it up on the wall!"

With that Mum turned around to face forwards again, and Debbie ducked her head down to read her comic; Mum was always like this, and it had made things awkward at school, though Debbie had never really cared what other people thought about her achievements. She liked being good at everything she tried; it meant that when other children cried because they couldn't perfect this or that, she had no trouble whatsoever.

But there was something a bit uncomfortable about Mum and Dad telling everyone who passed through the house about how perfect her daughter was; Debbie was proud, but she always felt a bit guilty when the strange grown-ups asked her to talk about all of her awards and tokens. She may have been naturally talented, but it was hard work, and for every musical award that she received, there would still be a C in her Maths SATs folded at the bottom of her chest of drawers.

Boarding school wouldn't be like that; she wouldn't have to see either of them for months at a time, and she could filter what information they received. The man that she had spoken to at their visit had made a point of talking to Debbie directly, about how lessons were tailored to what the students wanted, about how she could choose which extra-curricular things she wanted to do, and how they made sure to put on lots of in-house activities to make sure that everyone was included and matched up with friends that liked the same sort of things.

"See what I mean?" Archie leaned over and whispered into Debbie's ear, prodding her in the arm; he may not spend much time at home anymore, but he had known their parents longer than Debbie had, and she had to admit, was a good person to share her annoyances with. Nobody was better at complaining to about parents than siblings.

"Yeah." Debbie muttered back, making sure to keep her eyes down so that their parents didn't see her smirk; he had caught her slipping her certificates onto the bookcase, where Mum wouldn't look, and made some quick remark about how much importance they were putting on her being like a prize poodle. It had been bothersome when he had said it, but Debbie understood the sentiment.

"If you don't win lots of trophies over the next seven years, they'll disown you." Archie murmured, scoffing when Debbie's elbow collided with his ribs; he didn't mean it, she knew that, he was only teasing, but that hit a little too close to home for her to take lying down.

"Archie!" Dad snapped from the front seat, turning to shoot him a glare; Archie simply shrugged and settled back against the car door, going back to his scribbling, colouring in what looked at a glance to be woman in a knee length dress with a massive scarf, always on the job, oblivious, or just not caring, about Dad's disgruntlement, "Don't tell her that."

"I'll just have to win lots of trophies then, won't I?" Deborah remarked wryly, taking her eyes from Dad's to give Archie a self-satisfied smirk; that would show him, "You'll have to tell me when to stop so that I don't overload the shelf."

"Are you looking forwards to starting your knew school dear?" Mum inquired lightly as she turned back to lean over the back of her seat; she spared Archie a fleeting glare, which he didn't look up to see, before plastering on a bright, slightly rigid smile, "You haven't spoken much about it."

"Yes, it sounds like fun." Debbie told her blandly, looking down and silently hating Archie for being able to avoid too much of her attention, as she glared down at the comic in her lap; she was looking forwards to school, no matter how sad her friends would think that that was (no that she'd ever tell them), but not for the reasons that Mum thought she was, "I'm really looking forwards to it."

"They've got all sorts of musical groups, and drama societies, and there's even an art department." Mum continued, as if Debbie hadn't been there when all of that had been explained the first time; sometimes it felt like she was more excited about Debbie getting to go than she was herself, "When you get there, you need to find out which ones you like and sign up for as many as you can."

"Yes Mummy." Debbie sighed, ducking her head as Mum shifted back again; perhaps she could get back to reading her comic again, although she'd have to go back a page and remember what had been happening in the plot.

"But not so many that you overload yourself." Dad interjected, waving his pointed finger in the air, as he did something with the wheel and the car swayed across the road; realising that this was one of those conversations where she could easily not be in the room at all, Debbie went back to her reading, keeping one ear on what her parents were saying, "It's the academic subjects that are important; they help you decide what you want to do when you're older."

"Of course, but she could be an actress, or a musician." Mum insisted, gazing imploringly at her husband as he sighed and nodded along; sometimes Debbie wondered if he was always not meaning it when he nodded, but it wasn't her place to care, "If we work hard, there's no reason that our baby can't be famous."

"I understand that, but nobody gets anywhere without qualifications." Dad retorted calmly; he was always the voice of reason, aware of Debbie's limits, despite his faith in her and her achievements, "Even Archie needed a couple, and I hardly think that maths is an important matter when dressing up young women."

"Excuse me, I'm actually excelling quite far in the fashion business." Archie chipped in, apparently not as uninterested as he liked to pretend he was, though he didn't pause in his doodling; Debbie looked up at him, spotting the opportune moment to get back at him, in the smallest of ways, "It's not an easy job."

"Isn't it all just colouring?" Debbie inquired slyly, reaching out to pull his notepad down to look at his drawing; Archie snatched his hand back and slapped her lightly away, only to have to push her away when the car lurched and she ended up falling sideways.

"No." Archie replied blithely, tugging one knee up to his chest to rest his notepad on it; his drawing took on a more violent nature, with wide scratches over one area of the paper, as if he were venting his frustrations on his cherished pictures.

"But I've seen you spend hours just colouring in pictures of clothes." Debbie carried on regardless, taking a small pleasure from being able to tease him back; years and years of being slower than him, there were some things about growing up that were rather nice, "I could do that, and I'm a child."

"I'm creating a portfolio." Archie retorted waspishly, glancing up from his drawing to glare at her; not that Debbie was at all affected by his wrath, as Archie was harmless at best, "The people in charge aren't looking at my autumn designs yet, but they are listening to my idea for an autumn theme, with more wispy elements to compliment the Fall season."

"Hmmm." Debbie hummed at him, but didn't say any more; it was hard to keep the sadistic smile from her face as Archie scowled, but she made a valiant effort, pressing her lips together into a thin line and inwardly praising herself for managing to stay so cool and suave throughout the whole discussion. There would be no looking immature and pathetic now that she had been practicing being more mature.

From the front of the car, Debbie could hear faint huffing and could tell that one or both of her parents were about to tell them to stop bickering or they'd turn the car around; they wouldn't, but she understood that that was just the first warning, and that it would be wrong of her to do anything else to make the day miserable.

They wanted to enjoy their adult's day out; that was okay, she could entertain herself.

oOoOoOo

The distillery was a boring as Debbie had expected it to be; sure, the location was pretty, and the rooms were interesting for the first two minutes that she looked at them, but overall, the tour guide's talk was aimed at adults, and Debbie was content to listen for a bit, work out what each room was for, and then bury her nose back in the adventures of Kirk and Spock, making sure to follow the group.

One thing she would say though, it was hot; not just hot, but in certain parts, the parts with the huge metal machines that looked like those flasks her teachers used in chemistry, were stifling and made sweat bead up on her arms. When they had been in that room, Debbie had stood against the back wall with her arms held petulantly across her middle, pouting at the ground until the guide had led them through to the other room.

The next room; that was the only part that Debbie could admit to liking. There were massive round pools, like barrels made for giants to drink from, poking up from the ground, and the whole area smelled delicious; the guide had told them that it was something to do with grain and the whiskey coming into existence, but Debbie hadn't really been listening. Instead, she had stood right at the edge as the barrel's lid was removed and a gust of hot, amazing smelling air, that made her just a little bit dizzy, filled her lungs, letting the adults chatter and pretend to be oh so interested behind her.

It was only as Debbie was walking between her mother and Archie, while Dad was wandering off ahead, rapt with attention for what the guide was saying, that Mum leaned down and pushed the pages of the comic away from her face, and fixed her daughter with a disappointed stare; Debbie didn't fold the pages away, simply held them at arm's length and glared back at her mother, knowing not to start the argument.

"I thought I told you to put that away." Mum remarked quietly, hushing her voice so as not to make a scene, or provoke any kind of angry response; she was well learned in maintaining a cool outward appearance in public, and Debbie had been paying enough attention to know that it kept the peace.

"I'm bored!" Debbie replied heatedly, then took a deep breath when Mum quirked an eyebrow at her; as she tried to reason with her mother, her hands moved aimlessly through the air either side of her, making the pages in her hands rustle, "This is all…it's stuff that you three like. I'm being good and quiet."

"If you didn't want to come, you could always have stayed with Granny." Archie muttered, the tone of his voice measured specially for teasing and winding her up; Granny would have loved to have her stay the week, as old as she was, over sixty years older than Debbie, but that didn't make it any less upsetting an idea to have been abandoned with her when the rest of the family was out on a jolly.

"No! I liked the castles, it's just this place that's boring." Debbie huffed, turning away from Mum to glare at her brother, taking care to steady her breathing and not get too angry, lest she be accused of being childish; Archie was just being mean again, he didn't have to be there at all, he could have just left them alone like he normally did, "Why are you here anyway? You're an adult, you have your own money to buy holidays."

"I wanted to spend some time with the family." Archie shrugged, rocking on his heels as he looked down at her with one eyebrow raised as if to mock her, hands deep in his pockets, "That's not a crime."

Thankfully, Debbie didn't have to think up a quick retort, as in that moment her father appeared and her mother rose back to her feet, smiling wanly and placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder after muttering something that sounded critical into Archie's ear.

"Come on you lot, we're losing the group." Dad ushered them along, sweeping up behind Archie to make sure that the three of them caught up with the rest of the tourists; at least someone was enjoying themselves, Debbie supposed, as her father was always enthused by fascination with everything.

They barely made it through ten minutes, and Debbie had barely raised her comic back in front of her face, so that it blocked out the sight of the crowd humming amongst itself, but not the delicious odour that still wafted through every door, before Mum decided to bother her again; anyone would think that she hadn't wanted to visit the place.

"What are you even reading?" Mum demanded faintly, linking her fingers together where her hands hung at her front as she walked backwards and peered down at the pages in her hands; swallowing the temptation to groan, Debbie simply pouted and raised the comic until Mum could see the cover, which proclaimed to the world that its contents were that of a Star Trek, "Oh, Debbie, that's not very girly."

"I like it." Debbie replied immediately, folding it closed and hugging it against her chest, in a way that could have been mistaken for just a comfortable posture; she couldn't help but feel just a little upset though, and tried not to think about the momentary trembling of her lips, as if she did, Archie would have called her a baby again, "It's my favourite. You know it's my favourite."

"Where did you even get those?" Mum asked dismissively, shaking her head and scrunching up her eyes as she placed a hand on Debbie's back to keep her moving; she didn't shake the hand away, but she wanted to, "We didn't buy them for you."

"Archie gave them to me." Debbie told her, any bounce that might have been in her demeanour gone, leaving only a miserable, grumpy, flatness to her tone, as she dragged her feet across the floor; maybe it was just that she hadn't been speaking about the things that she liked so much anymore…she had decided that because no one seemed to be paying attention to her 'childish' things, that she might as well not bother them with it.

"They're my old ones." Archie interrupted before their mother could reply, and Debbie was a little surprised at the almost concern that he seemed to express; he had given them to her, though it had seemed, at the time, to be more an act of necessity as he cleaned out his flat than an act of kindness, "I thought she could get some use out of them instead of them going in the bin."

"Wouldn't you rather read something a little more…" Mum started to ask in an airy voice, spiralling her free hand through the air before she trailed off, more thoughtfully than because she thought that she might have been upsetting her daughter.

"Girly?" Debbie suggested for her; she waited for Mum to 'ah', and nod, and give her an indulgent, fluttering look and to squeeze her shoulder affectionately, before she continued, unwilling to lie about this in particular; other things, maybe, but there were some things that she would defend to the death, if such thoughts even held the right kind of gravitas in the mind of an eleven year old, "No."

"But Debbie, that's for boys-" Mum began to sigh, placing the tips of her fingers against her eyes as if fighting a battle long weathered; however, in an unusual show of loyalty, Archie interrupted again, to Debbie's bewilderment. What did he have to gain other than to defend a fiction that had only held a passing interest in?

"Actually Mum, it's not." Archie retorted nonchalantly, inspecting the nails on his hand as he spoke; his elbow bumped into Debbie's shoulder, far too forcefully for it to have been an accident, "It's about equality."

"Yes, see." Debbie joined in while she still had the chance, seizing the opportunity to hold a valid discussion over this before the moment passed, "There's Uhura, Nurse Chapel, Janice – look!" she opened the pages of her comic and held it out for Mum to read, but she simply shook her head and brushed her away; but Debbie wouldn't be ignored so easily, and squared her jaw as she glared up at her mother, "Lots of girls, being girly and amazing at the same time."

Mum looked like she wanted to say something, and her arm had disappeared from around Debbie's back to fold over her chest like a brick wall refusing entry to reasonable debate; however, Dad appeared at her shoulder, chestnut hair askew as if he had run his hands through it while he searched for them.

"Are you three bickering again?" Dad asked as he looked between the three of them, Archie standing beside Debbie as Mum looked on in despair, desperately trying to reassert her controlled façade in place of her hopeless mood; he didn't seem worried at all, and was still enthralled by their location, "Come on."

They walked in silence for a while, Dad following nearly at the guide's heels as she spoke, and Mum lagging in time with her offspring; Archie was making a brave effort at paying attention, but Debbie was biding her time, fingers clenching around the pages of her comic like a cat waiting to pounce, though she was wary not to ruin it.

"One day I want to be like Nurse Chapel." Debbie announced proudly when the guide allowed the group a moment to wander freely in a large room containing gargantuan brass pipes; she made sure to take Mum's hand in hers and tug, but to withdraw quickly and clutch at her comic as if to show just how much she meant what she said.

"But what about your acting and your music?" Mum groaned, fixing Debbie with a dewy eyed look that screamed of despairing disappointment; Dad didn't look at her like that yet, so Debbie wasn't going to roll over just yet, "Think about how beautiful you'd be on the stage."

"Nurse Chapel doesn't need to be beautiful." Debbie replied unfalteringly, tipping her nose into the air as she spoke; Mum could think what she liked, but Debbie knew what she wanted to be like, and it was nothing like what her mother had in mind, no matter how much she really did love the arts, "She gets respect because she's clever and she puts the Captain in his place."

But Mum didn't reply, but fell silent and turned away from Debbie as Dad appeared at her shoulder, ranting about something that Debbie didn't care to listen to; she pouted in a way that she knew was childish, and held her comic closer to her chest, feeling as if she could topple sideways and hit the ground, even though there were people all around her.

"You told me you wanted to be Kirk." Archie remarked wryly, as he leaned down to mutter not at all quietly into Debbie's ear; she should never have told him anything, she knew that he remembered it all for later use.

"Shhh!" Debbie scolded him, and whacked him around the back of the head with her comic before he had time to straighten up again; Mum shot her a warning glance, but otherwise said nothing, even as Archie rubbed a hand through his hair.

"You did!" Archie insisted, making no effort to keep his voice down now, which only made Debbie want to sink into the ground, "You told me you wanted to be like Kirk, all jet setting and perfect, and to have your own Spock."

"Well I changed my mind." Debbie snapped, turning her back on his and tugging her arms furiously around her middle, hoping that she hadn't stamped her feet as loudly as she thought that she had; she was a big girl now, and heading off to live her own life at school, the last thing she needed was to be treated like a child.

"You can do whatever you want darling, now hurry up." Dad said fondly, even as he placed a hand on her shoulder and directed her towards the group, which was now moving through the door to the outside; just as Debbie had thought, this was a boring, boring day, and she wanted to go home.

oOoOoOo

This room was the last room, the guide had promised, but Debbie thought that she had seen more rooms in this horrible place than she had ever been in in her life; she wouldn't have minded so much if they had gone back to the nice smelling rooms, but this one was just boring, and even worse, the adults were all having too much fun without her.

The last treat at the end of a distillery tour was to let the grown-ups drink a bit of the whiskey, and Mum and Dad, and even Archie, had abandoned Debbie on the bench at the side of the room to indulge themselves; she had finished her comic, and now all she could do was pout and stare at the corner of the room, and try not to growl audibly under her breath.

"Can we leave yet?" Debbie demanded when Archie wandered within earshot of her; he turned at the sound, and came to sit beside her, of course stopping in front of the pane of glass on the way to make sure that his ruddy hair was properly primped where it lay in silly waves about his head.

"They're still sampling the goods." Archie sighed apologetically, though he wasn't really sorry; he watched Debbie pout for a moment longer, before he glanced around, and then held out his glass to her, "Here do you want to try some?"

"The lady said that children couldn't." Debbie replied plaintively, although she was itching to see what all the fuss was about, what was so important that their parents had ignored her to taste and coo over; little rules could be broken, like at school, but this seemed like a big thing.

"Yeah, but I saw you when we were walking through the distillery." Archie remarked dismissively, shrugging as if it were no big deal; to him, perhaps, it wasn't, as he never seemed too concerned with her happiness, only making sure that she did what Mum and Dad told her to do, "You were practically inhaling the fumes."

Debbie didn't need any more encouragement; Archie was a grown-up after all, and if he said that it was okay, then in must have been okay. She took the glass from him, and took a swig of it just as she would her juice…only to clamp her mouth shut and force herself to swallow when it burnt upon hitting her tongue.

"Eugh!" Debbie cringed and thrust the glass back into Archie's hand, squeezing her eyes shut and then opening them in time to see him give the glass a cursory look, and then take another sip himself, "That's horrible! Why do you drink that?"

"Because it's only horrible to begin with. Then it makes your head go nice and fuzzy after a while." Archie explained, a nostalgic little smile curling his lips as he watched her; not that she cared, as she was too busy hating the burn at the back of her throat, "But you're a child, so you can't be drinking enough for that."

"I don't want to." Debbie retorted, still making odd motions with her tongue as if that might make the taste go away; it really was horrible, and she didn't want to ever taste such a vile thing again.

"Good." Archie huffed; then from the corner of her eye Debbie saw him shift and turn and really look at her, his expression pinching into a curious mixture of worry and morbid fascination, before he stated that, "You're in a right mood today."

"No I'm not." Debbie said shortly, pressing her lips together and holding her head high like she had seen Mum do a thousand times; that was how adults managed to stay so cool all the time, they just held themselves together like so, and voila – the problems melted away and they could smile throughout the day.

"Yes you are." Archie contradicted her, to her annoyance; he looked across the room to where Mum and Dad were occupied, but when Dad caught his eyes, Archie began speaking quickly in a hushed, secretive tone, "Is it because of school? Are you afraid you won't do as well as Mum and Dad think you will?"

"Of course I'll do well. I always do well." Debbie answered swiftly, without a trace of doubt; she always did well, at all the things that Mum cared about at least.

"Is it because you'll be moving away from home and all your friends?" Archie asked, leaning down just a tad as Dad began to cross the room towards them; when Debbie didn't say a work, merely glared at her shoes, he sighed and mumbled, "I thought so."

"It's quite far away." Debbie murmured to him, hoping that he couldn't hear; a wish wasted however, as he groaned lightly at replied regardless of whether she wanted him to or not.

"That's alright." Archie reasoned hastily, as he reached between them to tap her comic just a little bit too hard, so that the page bent in the middle; Debbie folded it back against her chest and scowled at him, though he took no notice, "You just take your stories with you."

"Come on you two." Dad called out before Debbie had time to respond; him and Mum were waiting in the middle of the room, gesturing for the two of them to join them, oblivious to the disgruntlement on both faces looking back at them, "At this rate we won't be home until after dark."

oOoOoOo

Sitting in her bedroom, the night before her parents drove her to her new school and deposited her there until her next Exeat, Debbie couldn't sleep; she wasn't even trying, she was just sitting on her bed in her pyjamas, glaring at her suitcases as the tiny wireless radio that she had snatched from Archie's room when he wasn't looking buzzed away to itself.

She wasn't scared, she didn't get scared; but Debbie wasn't happy either, not that anyone was going to do anything about it. It was almost a welcome relief to be scared witless by the sound of her doorknob turning and the door swinging open.

"Hey!" Archie whispered as he appeared in the doorway, and stepped in uninvited, pulling the door shut behind her; Mum and Dad were asleep, and even though Archie could do what he liked, neither of them would do well if their parents found out their daughter had been up at such a time, "Hey, Debbie!"

"What?" Debbie demanded harshly, hugging her arms closer to her in a show of defiance; it was only then that she spotted the hefty box tucked under his arm, which he proceeded to dump onto her bed, and then stand back.

"I got you a going away present." Archie announced in his hushed tone of voice; he sounded like he didn't really care about what he was saying, and he was already on his way back to her door, leaving, ready to walk out, "You'll have to keep the box so that it doesn't get crushed in your bags."

"What is it?" Debbie inquired, too tired to pretend that she wasn't extremely interested as she crawled to the edge of the box, which could easily have spanned from one of her elbows to the other; she daren't not tap it, or shake it, in case it were something breakable, or precious.

"Open it and see." Archie instructed, opening the door and stepping through; he spared her one last cursory glance down his nose before he made his departure, "Cheer yourself up, for god's sake, before you leave."

Then he was gone, and Debbie could let her curiosity spew forth; as she hacked at the box's seal with a pair of scissors from the sowing kit that Granny had given her, she had to push shoulder length hair behind her ears many time, as the waves kept blocking her fingers from view when she pulled the box onto her lap. Archie never got her gifts, only at birthdays and Christmas, and even then he seemed reluctant; it wasn't like she could buy him gifts, she wasn't earning any money.

When she reached what was inside, Debbie had to sit back in awe with the gift in her hands, marvelling on the verge of tears with how much she loved its every inch; Archie had only bought her a model of the Enterprise. Not a tiny thing either; a proper replica of the ship, perfect enough that it could have sat on a shelf, but sturdy enough that had she still been a child, Debbie could have run around and played with it.

Debbie spent hours inspecting each and every round edge, and the smooth grey of the outer hull; if she fell asleep in the car the next day, then that was fine by her, because this gift was the best one she had ever received.

oOoOoOo

Years later, after fantasy had made way for the real world, and the family that Deborah had once known was long gone and scattered to the winds, replaced by people that weren't family, not really, but still managed to make her happier than she had been in living memory, she still had Archie's gift.

It was tucked away at the back of her wardrobe, in its box, unlike the sofas that she had dragged from place to place, and the occasional ornament that she had kept; a little girl might have kept it on display and adored stroking it while being oh so careful, but a young woman had grown weary and sick of the world and tried to grow up too fast, hiding it away.

But she had never been able to get rid of it, and even when her head was straight, and she was healthier than she had been in decades, Deborah still couldn't bring herself to indulge in the sillier remnants of her life; she became a grown up, no more drink, only smuggling what was harmless, trying to settle down and work on her relationships and her jobs…no room for playthings or ridiculous fantasies of youth.

And yet, every now and then Deborah and Martin would bicker over certain things that they both rather liked, and certain references make their way into everyday life; a Captain would call his First Officer 'Number One', and she would argue with a passion that his favourite Captain hadn't flown nearly as well as hers. Carolyn had fumed when she realised that they nearly crashed the plane over a fight over whether Kirk was better than Picard.

Kirk was better; Deborah would fight him over that. Physically if she had to.

And if one day, when they were making room in her wardrobe, Martin had stumbled across a replica of the Enterprise, neither of them mentioned it again; true, this was in part because Martin had teased her by taking it out of the box and flying it above her head around the living room, only to start having fun, and continue playing with it (pretending to be a space pilot though Deborah didn't call him out on it), while she cooked dinner.

But most of all, they just didn't talk about it, because Deborah was moving on with her life, and Martin…Martin's face lit up, and his eyes grew so wide and loving whenever he caught sight of proof that she wasn't.

This might just be how tired I am, but I actually teared up a little writing that last paragraph. Argh!

Nevermind. I hope you liked that, and that it lived up to expectations.