After the Great Frenzy

It was Christmas on E.D.N. III. The first one since NEVEC and Isenberg and the Great Frenzy, ten months ago. The coldest time of year on earth, somehow laced with the warmest feelings of good will and cheer. Kinda like the planet herself…icy and frigid, with an inexplicably hot core of molten energy.

Jim sat out in the courtyard of the Forgotten Camp, as close as he could get to a massive tank of T-Energy. It was a depositor, used for putting energy into the colony's main supply and for taking it out again when needed. More importantly, it gave off a fine blanket of heat that made Jim want to never leave it. He kinda understood Campbell now, the Irishman from Coronis who was like an Akrid, always migrating to the 'warmest spot on the base'.

Little Hank was sandwiched between his knees, slapping the stiff, cold iron of his artificial leg and chattering away about a thousand little nothings as ideas danced round in his head. He was so much like Grace it wasn't funny…no, it really wasn't. Jim knew his absence had nothing to do with the lack of characteristics his four-year-old son shared with him…but the thought tore at him, leaving a hollowness in his chest.

Just another hopeless worry to add to his mountain of self-blame and fruitless could-have-beens. If it wasn't for Grace he would have lost himself completely in the past and all the mistakes made by…by everyone, if he was honest. But it didn't matter in the end, because Jim was the smart one. The cool headed one. The guy who could see all sides and make friends with anyone…except for the bloodbath and the death and desolation that followed because of him, and the truth he'd withheld from Braddock until it was too late.

Yeah, good job peacemaker. You could have stopped a war. Good job, father of your son…you committed genocide. Good job, cadet…everyone's trapped here now, because you blew up the coms dish…to save this bug-infested god-forsaken iceberg. Good job, liar.

You're still lying, even now.

He sighed, his eyes travelling around the camp in an effort to distract himself. The Forgotten and the crew from Coronis had become fast friends rather quickly. At least that was something good. Something not half bad.

Crewman Mertz, once a toilet-paper hoarding engineer along with his brother Ed…they worked on the pipes now, sealing fissures and cracks, always scanning the facility for any leaks of the precious T-Energy that kept them all alive. Instead of paper, now they had a monopoly on Akrid leather, the only material that would be suitable for clothing and armor once they wore out the outfits they'd brought from Earth.

They'd started a brief movement to use the leather as toilet paper…but the greenhouse crew quickly put a stop to that. There was even a brief skirmish over it…leather or leaves. Until the Forgotten reminded everyone of the basic concept of water. Jim smiled to himself. What a bunch of savages they'd become.

The best thing about the greenhouse was how happy it made Crewman Lashly, the long-suffering artist who'd served as cook at Coronis. Finally, the man could grow the heirloom tomatoes he'd spent so long praising as he spilled gruel and soup into their bowls. Heck, the cider steaming from most peoples' mugs in the yard that evening came from his own special recipe. Once a chef, always a chef.

Not everyone had their niche premade for them, however.

Despite the beating from Isenberg and his wounds from the Akrid attack, Kendric survived. When he woke up in bed with a harmonizer strapped to his chest, he merely blinked at it and asked what species of Akrid they'd pulled the energy from.

It didn't take the biologist long to realize that no one really needed his particular sphere of scientific expertise anymore. If they needed an Akrid dissected, it was for meat. And they already had a butcher for that in the form of Juro Katsuragi.

Any other man whose talents lay so severely focused in the intellectual realm…well, any other man might have despaired and settled down to a life of washing dishes. But really, Jim shouldn't have been surprised when Kendric took this mid-life crises in stride as he seemed to take all things.

He poured his intense, quiet, manic energy into a completely different venue of Akrid research. Using what he could remember of the resonance engine he began to work on a whistle that could actually help tame the beasts. It didn't send out an all-powerful pulse to flood their senses and control them, but it could send a message of trust to the creatures, a way to fool them into being friends.

Clarke, the Forgotten's Akrid trainer, loved the invention. He seemed to have adopted Kendric in some way. Which made sense, since the little scientist had always reminded Jim of a strange creature who'd been left on the wrong planet, forced to live with humans and, ever since then, had been searching for home in everything that was strange and bizarre.

Kendric called his new invention the Bonnie Song…a surprisingly poignant memorial to people who'd known a Dr. Bonnie Roman.

Between Jim's knees, Hank saw the scientist in question scooting around the edge of the open area. He waved his arms and jumped in excitement. "Dr. K! Dr. K!" he called. Jim grinned, trying to hold the wriggling boy still.

If he could hear the kid, Kendric took no notice. He tapped the datapad he'd been messing with against his forehead, muttering softly to himself. Everything that had happened to him in such a short span of time…NEVEC seizing his lab, Bonnie's death, Isenberg's beating, the Akrid attack…he still had scars, outside and inside. A little more disturbed, a little less human.

But Hank was good for him. Hank and the children could still reach him when Kendric was feeling particularly lost in his own head.

Finally surrendering to his powerfully strong toddler son, Jim let Hank go. The boy sped across the ground and flung himself at Dr. Kendric, tugging at his sleeve and peppering him with a thousand questions. With hardly a glance away from his datapad, Kendric patted Hank on the head with all the emotion of a feather duster. But as he formulated answers to all of Hank's simple questions, a bright spark of life seemed to return to his eyes, a twitch that was almost a smile spilling at the corner of his lips.

A familiar figure crossed right in front of Jim's vision, distracting him. Laroche came stalking across the camp, his arms full of glowing T-Energy capsules. The Frenchman carried his load over to the giant T-Energy depositor where Jim was sitting.

Their eyes met. Laroche's stride faltered. But he pushed on until he gingerly set his load down on the rocky ground before plugging the first capsule into a valve-like opening on the side of the depositor. With his free hand he pulled a latch, releasing its store into the main supply. Killing Akrid, collecting the energy, and bringing it home. A job that never ended now that Nushi was dead.

"Bolsepia?" Jim asked, noting the number of burns on Laroche's suit and the blackened spots on the metal cords of the thermal system. One of the valves was burnt open, with a clumsy lump of silver sealant sprayed over it. Exposure wasn't good. Getting burnt wasn't good…risking death wasn't good either. But that was their life now.

Laroche seemed to bite his tongue before answering. "Suwankaa."

A Category M Akrid. The ones Jim had recently ruled should only be tackled by two hunters at least.

But it was Christmas. And it was Laroche. It wasn't worth an argument.

The Frenchman had been pushing himself hard for the past year. His relationship with the Coronis crew had always been boastful and empty, pillowed by Braddock's golden-boy patronage. Yes, Laroche was a good hunter, skilled with a rig, and always eager for a bit of sport. But people didn't seem to like his boisterous ways very much.

Simply put, Laroche had been spoiled. He hadn't realized how little everyone liked him…and now that Braddock was gone, he had no contracts to fill, no reputation to uphold, and no real friends to fall back on. So he just worked like a demon and kept to himself.

Or tried to. Gale made that hard.

The man in question swept in, irresistibly noticeable and, of course, already talking. "Hey, hey, hey! There's my White Fox, bringing in the gold!" he thumped Laroche on the back.

Anyone else would have been on the receiving end of a scuffle. Instead, Laroche tensed up and snarled a reply. His tone was acidic, but Jim could see relief in his eyes. "Ma petite epine…thorn in my side, how's the lab today? You didn't blow it up again…that would be embarrassing, no?"

Gale hardly blinked. Maybe that's why the two were somehow friends…neither really cared about what the other was saying. Insults flew between them and through them like puffs of air. Gale brushed his hair away from his forehead. "Aw, you're just jealous you weren't there to see it. Once the roof was blown off the T-Energy flew so high in the sky I thought it'd get trapped in the atmosphere."

"Thank heavens you're an engineer and not a scientist," Laroche muttered, shifting the canister with a hiss. He flicked the latch, took the now empty canister away, and quickly replaced it with another. There were at least eight more by his feet. Production levels had gone up since they started electrifying the Akrid. But that could only be done in the caverns or, if absolutely necessary, on the dry snow above. There was always a danger of back-charge so some of the hunters, like Laroche, liked to rely on the old method of blasting them apart and collecting the puddled remains. So, for an old-fashioned puddle harvester, that was a pretty good haul. And a pretty weird sentence.

"Yeah…and thank heavens I'm so good at repairing damaged harmonizers and preparing them for even more damage…" Gale tapped at the broken one on Laroche's arm, a shadow of concern in his brown eyes. "Or you'd be a Frozen Frenchicle by now."

He noticed Jim looking at him and smiled broadly. "Oh, and we'd all be trapped, huddling next to the T-Energy pools instead of roaming the planet in mini-rigs and buggies. Oh, and Jim would never get anywhere. Oh, and we'd also be using up valuable energy to melt snow for water. And Mira wouldn't…" his eyes grew far away, his voice softer as he kept ranting. "Wouldn't have a terrible boyfriend who doesn't know what to get her for Christmas. Guys…what do I get her for Christmas?" His voice kicked up a notch in panic. "And how do I tell her I want to be her boyfriend?!"

Before Jim could halt the flood, Laroche cut in like a whiplash. "Tell her you're afraid of her, garcon, ask her for a kiss, and then run for your life…see if she gets the message."

"Now, I don't know about all that," Jim swept in, a warm, friendly presence that everyone found it hard not to listen to or trust. He patted the depositor near Laroche as a miniscule warning for him to be quiet, "But honesty's a good start."

Gale sighed, crossing his arms and pinching his nose. "Nah, honesty's good and all but what about tried and true? I need something pretty."

Laroche threw up his free hand before Jim could speak again. Another one of the Frenchman's worst qualities...always ignoring Jim or cutting him off. "Mes pauvre oreilles! How little you know about women, gamin! It isn't pretty things…it's the tiny thoughtfulness, the smallest act of sweetness…grand, sweeping gestures over nothing, to show them they are worth everything!"

Now that was unexpected and right nice to hear. Jim found himself smiling a bit as Laroche went on.

"She used to have the fairy lights in her room, oui? They are dark now. Make them shine again."

Gale looked a bit wary of Laroche's passionate romanticism. He frowned. "She says it's a waste of energy…"

"You are a waste of energy! Make them glow again and surprise her. Then tell her you fear her but you love her and…bah, make something up. It will come to you…you have the mouth."

"Huh," Gale nodded, staring down at the snow. "Huh," he said again. Jim could tell he was thinking. Taking the idea apart and putting it back together in a way nobody could even hope to anticipate. "Good idea, golden boy!" excited now, Gale slapped Laroche again on the shoulder and twirled on his heels, running unnecessarily fast towards the compound.

Jim saw Laroche flinch, and it wasn't from Gale's friendly abuse.

Golden boy.

Braddock.

Laroche blamed himself for Braddock's death. And while it was true that it wouldn't have had to happen if NEVEC hadn't been called in…well, Braddock was the kind of man, the kind of father who would have died to save any single one of them. Not just to atone for the sins of his own dad but to keep his crew, his people safe.

So, it wasn't just loneliness sending Laroche out to work all the time…it was atonement too. Honoring Phil's sacrifice and making restitution for Laroche's senselessmistake…a mistake fueled by bitter envy and no small helping of sheer stupidity…jumping to the worst and least viable conclusion simply because he was jealous of Jim.

But Jim had done his share of sinning too…kept Braddock in the dark for so long. If he hadn't lied…Phil wouldn't have shut Laroche down when the Frenchman came to report on Jim's suspicious activity. NEVEC would never have been called. Braddock and Nushi wouldn't be dead.

Nice thoughts on Christmas.

"You stayin' here for the rest of the day?" Jim tried to sound casual.

"Oui. C'est le Noël, alors je dois." Laroche glanced at him.

Okay. That was a yes and something about Christmas. Jim nodded, crossing his real leg over his machine one. "Good. Between you and McFadden we have enough T-Energy to swim in for today."

Laroche grunted. By now he'd finished up the seventh canister and proceeded to load in the last. There was a moment's silence before something in him shifted, as if he'd come to a decision. "I killed the Suwankaa from my rig, Jim." His tone was strangely reassuring. "Then a Bolsepia bastard jumped me while I was harvesting, so I had to run like mad and put it down with my shotgun. Then all its cursed brothers and sisters came running out of the cliff so I grabbed all the T-Energy I could and ran like the devil. Some of their burning vomit caught my suit."

"Hmm." Jim nodded. He squinted at Laroche. "Well, at least you got guns on your rig now."

To both of their surprise, Laroche snorted, shaking his head. Something close to friendly and tired flashed in his grey eyes as he looked pointedly at Jim. "What's left of my sweet lady, yes."

"Sweet lady? And you called me out on naming my rig Gertie?!" Jim asked, outraged.

"That is an American name, for a hard-working housewife up to her elbows in pie crust."

"First of all," Jim pointed emphatically, "Pie is amazing. Pie is the best damn dowry you could ask for. Secondly, you're darn right it's an American name. For a hardworking lady who ain't afraid of getting her hands dirty. Remind me who beat the tin out of your 'sweet lady'?"

Laroche flared up, annoyed and irritated but under it all enjoying the banter. Something like old times. "Tais toi! You let the madman Gale put all those crazy things on your rig. Electric carapace? Torch?! Double-jointed arms?!"

"Yep. And you know he did all that so you'd never forget it."

Laroche burst into laughter. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped the last canister and, swearing vehemently, took off across the compound.

Jim leaned sideways to see what had grabbed the Frenchman's attention so violently.

Over near the Akrid pens, Dr. Kendric seemed to be trying to persuade Hank to put his entire arm inside a Goonroe's mouth. When he wasn't puffing on the Bonnie Song flute to keep the thing calm, his face spoke volumes of, 'It's perfectly safe. Go ahead and try it. See! Amazing!'

While the beasts were relatively tame, it wasn't something anyone suggested doing. Except their resident mad scientist, of course.

Slowing down as he approached so as not to startle the Akrid, Laroche quickly and firmly grabbed both Hank and Kendric by the arms and tugged them away. Then he began scolding them very loudly in French. Hank blinked up at him with a hurt face while Kendric fiddled with his hands and looked at the ground, simply waiting for the storm to pass before he resumed life as he knew it.

Jim was distracted from the scene as Campbell suddenly materialized by his side. "Merry Christmas, Jim!"

"Merry Christmas, Mike," Jim replied, eyes still on his son, ready to run over and intervene if Laroche scolded him to tears. "What are you up to?"

"Well…" Campbell crossed his arms, sidling towards the depositor. "I was having a fine time by myself with a mug of sweet, hot apple cider, but Markham took my spot, Jim! The warmest spot in camp!"

"No, I didn't, you stupid Paddy!" Markham snapped from where he was standing, in a completely random area by the T-Energy pipe, partly enveloped in a cloud of steam. "I'm doing important work here."

"What work?" Campbell snapped, "You've just been standing there for hours! Do you actually do anything around here?"

"And I suppose you weren't standing here for the past six hours yourself?"

As the nonsensical argument flew back and forth over his head, Jim focused on the group by the Akrid pens again.

Laroche seemed to have spent himself. His hands were on his hips as he blew out a harsh exhalation, exasperated. Kendric shrugged and mumbled something. Hank sniffed, rubbing a chubby fist in his eyes.

The sound seemed to prick Laroche's irritation like a balloon. With a long-suffering sigh, he bent over and scooped Hank up into his arms. "Mon petit garcon, let's not tempt the beasts so soon before dinner, eh?"

Hank nodded, safe and secure in the knowledge that he'd baby-faced his way out of discipline once more. Laroche settled him on his shoulders, safely above the tamed Akrid as Kendric started talking about them again, absently handing the whistle to Hank, who began to play it with abandon. Kendric's eyes began to glow again as he expounded on the fantastic qualities of the alien beasts.

Laroche wasn't nice enough to keep Kendric going with questions. He let Hank do that.

But he was nice enough to stay.

"Getting lost in your head again, darlin?" From nowhere, like an angel of cheer, Grace appeared. Her hands were full, with an apple cider thermos, two cups, and a plate of Akrid jerky flavored faintly by honey, mustard, and spice.

Jim never quite grasped how a single woman could manage to be the most welcome sight in the world every time she appeared. "Not now that I've found you," he replied sweetly. She'd dressed down for him, wearing a stupidly cheerful sweater and a teasing scarf that just begged to be unwrapped.

Outdoors in the cool air of the compound, she was already beginning to shiver. Jim shifted sideways on the crate and let her sit between him and the T-Energy depositor, sandwiching her between two heat sources. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, burying his cold nose in her scarf, taking a moment to feel the blessed little figure of warmth and strength that was his wife.

"I can't…aw, Gracie, you know how many times I can't believe you're in my life?"

Grace's blue eyes shone at him. "Jim, baby…if there's any version of my life that doesn't have you in it…I don't want it. You're the best, kindest, bravest man I've ever met. You make me feel safe. You make me a better woman. You make me a happy woman."

Without letting him reply, she held a mug of steaming apple cider to his lips. He'd barely gotten a tangy taste before she took it away and quickly pressed her lips to his in a kiss that sent a thrill through his body, chasing away the cold. She pulled away, smiling. "Just wanted to heat that frozen face up."

Jim licked apple cider off his lips. "Tastes good."

Grace laughed and socked his arm before wrapping him in a huge, crushing hug as the steam from the T-Depositors rose into the sky and swirled like liquid stars on the cavern roof. "Merry Christmas, Jim Peyton," she murmured, her eyes travelling to where Hank was now perched on Laroche's shoulders, singing and clapping his hands. Dr. Kendrick was holding onto the valves of Laroche's suit-front as he leaned precariously towards a grumpy Goonroe.

Jim sighed blissfully, warm from the cider and his wife's touch. "Merry Christmas, Grace Peyton," he replied at last. "And many Christmases to come."

FINIS

Author's Notes: Just my brief contribution to the fandom. I wanted to see everyone safe and happy, in that blessed time between NEVEC's return and the Crimson Unity and all that stuff that eventually led to the death of poor Jim...a good man who just wanted a good life for his family and got pulled into so much drama because his heart was too big to say no. So why not Christmas? In September? On the coldest planet ever? Also some tied endings for Laroche and Dr. Kendric, my two favorite supporting characters. Thanks everyone for reading, and remember, reviews feed the plot bunnies!