Twas the Night…
"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house;
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."
At these words, 1812 skittered across the floor and bumped against John's foot which was hanging over the bed. The DRD rolled back and forth as if he wanted to see the pictures in the book John held. The babe in the crook of his right arm, however, was not interested in the pictures at all. Instead, he was reaching for 1812's eyestalks.
"Little D," John whined, to get his son's attention, "listen to the story."
Baby D'Argo moved his eyes jerkily away from the DRD and focused on his father's face. He then decided John's nose was much more interesting than 1812 and grabbed it. His daddy put down the book he had been reading and gave the baby a finger to hold onto instead of his nose. The book had been a present from his sister Olivia, who had seen more than she was told.
"He's too young," a voice said. "He doesn't understand."
The baby started cooing when he heard this voice and released his father's nose.
"It doesn't matter Rygel," John said, as the Hynerian entered the room. "I'm starting a tradition."
"What use is a tradition when he won't even remember it?"
"Go away, Rygel. D'Argo may not be able to remember it yet, but I will not let you ruin my memories of Christmas Eve with my son." John sighed as Rygel's eyebrows drooped. "Why are you here? I thought you were helping Aeryn."
"I was," came the sullen reply.
Briefly, John wondered what Rygel had done to incur his wife's wrath. Aeryn was madly working on something and had insisted on John and the baby staying confined to their quarters. Since Rygel also appeared to be banned, John figured it wouldn't hurt to have him around. Besides, Little D liked him for some reason and was nearly always happy when Rygel was around.
"Why don't you stay," said Crichton, "and listen to the story."
Grudgingly, Rygel nodded and hopped off his thronesled. He landed on the bed and padded across the covers to where John sat. He plopped himself down and brushed the baby's cheek ever so gently with his fingers. Gurgling, the baby tried to grab the fingers, but Rygel pulled them away before he could.
As Rygel settled himself so he could see the pictures, John chuckled silently to himself. From the moment he had hidden in the corridor to listen, Rygel had tried his best to join the two Crichtons on the bed, trying hard to appear indifferent. As John looked at the little green slug, he realized that, whether he liked it or not, Rygel was a part of his family. In fact, all of them—Chiana, Pilot, Stark—were a part of his family.
Rygel interrupted his thoughts. "You should have named him Rygel. That's a good royal name. It has a very long history--"
"Do you want to listen to the story or not?"
When Rygel didn't answer, John began to read where he had left off.
"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In the hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there."
"They're beautiful, Officer Sun."
Aeryn smiled at Pilot as she hung up another decoration. "Do you really think so?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now I just need to put the presents—"
"Aeryn?"
Hitting her comms, Aeryn replied, "Yes Chiana?"
"Ummm…I need some help. I-I-I tried to make them the way you told me, but…"
Aeryn sighed. First Rygel, them Chiana. Even when she gave them simple jobs to do they still couldn't seem to complete them. Rygel had been bringing presents into Pilot's den but could not resist the urge to peek inside the wrapping. She was relived to find that none of the presents he had dropped and left behind were breakable…
"Aeryn?" Chiana asked again.
"I'll be there in a microt…I have to finish a few things up here first."
"Hurry Aeryn, they're starting to smoke—"
"Take them out!" Aeryn screamed and began running towards Chiana's location.
"And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound."
"Whose St. Nicholas?"
John glanced up from his book to see Chiana in the doorway. He wondered if she too had been banished. Rygel, he could understand, but Chiana? What hideous crime had she committed?
"Chiana, why aren't you helping Aer—" he stopped and sniffed. "What's that smell?"
Chiana winced and said nothing.
"Never mind," he said, guessing what had happened. "Why don't you join us?"
She smiled and strode over to the bed. John brought his foot up onto the bed and moved closer to the middle. Rygel, muttering and complaining, was shoved further to the right in order to make room for Chiana on the left.
Once she had settled herself, she motioned towards Little D and asked, "Can I?"
Glancing down at his son's beautiful face, he nodded. Carefully, he nestled the babe in Chiana's arms. Then he picked up his book and opened his mouth—
"Crichton?"
"What?"
"Who is St. Nicholas?"
"Oh," he said, remembering her question. But before he could answer her, Rygel joined the conversation.
"Didn't you watch any of those erp movies?" he taunted. "St. Nicholas is Santa Claus, you drannit!"
"Oh, you're the drannit," Chiana said as she tried to hit Rygel with her free hand.
D'Argo's face crumpled and Crichton moaned inside.
"All right," he said, "stop it."
"Look at what you did, you fekface.'
"Look at what I did? Look at what you did—"
"Chiana! Rygel! Do I have to send you to bed without your supper?"
Little D giggled at his father and grabbed his feet.
Chiana and Rygel glared at one another.
"Now," Crichton said, "be quiet and listen to the story, or I will kick you out of my room."
John smiled at his son and gave him his finger. The six-month-old abandoned his feet to chew on his daddy's finger.
Taking a deep breath, John began reading the story once more.
"He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack."
Setting the plate on Pilot's control panel, Aeryn sighed. All was in place, but her projects hadn't turned out the way she wanted. She had tried to make everything perfect, but…
"Officer Sun?" a gentle voice asked. "Is everything all right?"
Aeryn hoisted herself up and leaned her head against Pilot's. Closing her eyes, she thought of everything she had wanted to accomplish today, and everything that had gone wrong.
Pilot waited until she had sorted out her thoughts before he spoke. "No matter what went wrong, Commander Crichton will not care. He will…appreciate all the work you have done to make this Christmas memorable."
She lifted her head off his and gave him her radiant smile. "Thank you, Pilot."
He laid a claw on her shoulder and said, "If everything is ready…"
"I'll go get the others."
"Thank you. Moya and I are eager to see what is in our stocking."
Aeryn chuckled as she left to find her family.
"And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose,
He sprang to his sl—"
"Crichton?"
"What?" he asked, feeling as though he'd never be able to finish the story…
"Is that why you celebrate Christmas? Because some hooman decided to give presents?" Chiana asked, sounding truly curious.
"No, not exactly. In fact…" he paused for a moment to cover Little D's ears, "Santa Claus isn't even real."
"What?" Rygel exclaimed, surprised.
"He was real, once," John ceded, "but he died a long time ago."
"Then why…"
"Because it's fun to see how excited the children get," he said, uncovering his son's ears. "Also, it's another way for parents to bribe their children to be good."
"Did Christmas become celebrated because of Santa Claus?" Rygel asked.
"Yes and no," Crichton replied. He wondered how he could explain Christmas in a few words as possible. "Well…Saint Nicholas began the tradition of giving presents to others on Christmas, but he isn't the real reason Christmas is celebrated. The real reason…"
Little D kicked John's arm and reached for his father. Handing the book to Rygel, John laughed slightly and picked up the gurgling infant. "C'mere," he said. Carefully, he set D'Argo in his lap and supported him by leaning the baby against his stomach.
"The real reason," he continued, looking up, "is because of a baby. A baby who was born long ago and was called the Son of God."
For a moment, no one spoke. Rygel broke the silence by saying, "Hoomans are so…strange."
Chiana nodded in agreement.
"Anyway…" Crichton said, grabbing the book from Rygel, "let's finish the story."
Turning to the last page, he read, "He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"
Closing the book, he added, "The end."
"Are you ready to come to Pilot's den?" a voice asked.
Aeryn was there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.
"Yep," Crichton replied. "Perfect timing."
John gaped. Aeryn had decorated Pilot's den beautifully. Paper garlands looped around the top of Pilot's control panel. Stockings, one for each member of the crew, were also hung on the top with care. There were even stockings for those not with them, such as Stark and Noranti. When John spotted the stocking for the elder D'Argo, he was filled with sadness. Glancing down at the Luxan's namesake, he wished D'Argo was there to meet the baby. John knew the Luxan would be pleased and, somehow, he felt as though D'Argo was still on Moya, watching over the little one.
"Aeryn…" he breathed, "you did a wonderful job, everything is perfect. Except…what's that smell?"
Chiana cleared her throat and said, "It's my fault, I burned them."
John grinned and turned to Aeryn. "You tried to make gingerbread cookies, didn't you? They smell just the way I remember…"
"But they're burnt," Aeryn stuttered.
"Like I said, the way I remembered. My mother wasn't the best cook in the world ya know."
Relief showed in Aeryn's eyes as she brought out the plate of cookies and began passing them out among the crew.
The crew of six had partied long past Little D's bedtime. The cookies were eaten and the presents unwrapped.
Aeryn carried a sleepy baby boy down the corridor. John wrapped his arm around her shoulders. It was a moment John would cherish for the rest of his life.
They soon reached their quarters and the baby was quietly laid in his cradle. John and Aeryn stood over their child; Aeryn gazed at the babe's peaceful face while John stroked his head. D'Argo had a small amount of fuzzy hair, but it had grown much since his birth.
As he stroked his son's head and gazed at his face, he reached for Aeryn's hand and grasped it lightly. Softly, he began to sing:
"Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright,
'Round yon virgin, mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace."
As the last note faded away, John's hand left the babe's head and brushed the hair off of Aeryn's face. He leaned in and kissed her. Nuzzling her nose with his, he whispered, "I love you."
She smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.
The couple moved away from the cradle, heading toward bed.
Moya was peaceful; every one of her passengers asleep—except for Pilot. He gazed at the Christmas decorations and sighed in contentment.
He felt compelled to say something before the peacefulness had passed and the chaos returned. Quietly, he spoke, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
END