7. Rescues.
"First off," Santa asked, "is anyone hurt?"
"No," they chorused.
"Secondly," he continued, "does anyone have a plan?" At this, Twinky muttered under his breath.
There was a small beat of silence before Spock opened his mouth to speak. "In order to return to our quarters, we must retrace our route."
"Do you know what that was?" Kirk asked.
"I do not remember the specifics," Spock admitted, "due to the unusual method of travel," here, Twinky snorted, "however, I do remember the general direction."
"Which is?" McCoy prompted.
"South."
"Alright!" Santa boomed, looking supremely pleased, "lead on then!"
"You're coming with us?"
"Of course, Captain."
"It's only because he can't remember the way to the next house," Twinky offered.
"Neither can you," Santa retorted.
"If you would follow me," Spock said, starting off at a brisk pace into the woods.
"Not again," McCoy groaned.
"These aren't even the same woods, Bones."
McCoy muttered an indistinct comment under his breath but other than that let the argument drop. Where McCoy had shown restraint, Twinky showed reckless abandon; he moaned and ranted for their entire journey, quarrelling with Santa over the smallest things. Thirty minutes later, even Kirk and Spock, who both showed enormous amounts of patience, were beginning to look annoyed with him.
Meanwhile, the snow continued to drift into their eyes, making it difficult to see where they were going as they stumbled onwards. A howling wind had picked up, flinging itself at them without mercy and chilling them to the bone. Noticing that Spock was shivering, Santa stopped walking and pulled the Vulcan to a halt beside him.
"Here," he said, pulling off his coat, "put this on."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said put it on," Santa repeated. "You need it more than I do. I've got another layer on anyway, as you can see."
"Just take it, Spock," McCoy ordered. "I'm not treating you for pneumonia when there are no hospitals around."
Spock sighed, looking at the bright red coat with what could only be described as resignation. "Very well," he murmured, pulling the garment on.
Twinky snorted. "Now I know what will happen if Santa Clause decides he likes elves."
McCoy grimaced. "Great. Congratulations, now that image is in my head."
"And right before you," Twinky helpfully pointed out.
"Do you know if we're getting any closer, Spock?" Kirk asked, trying to curb yet another argument.
"I believe so, however-"
"Don't tread on the ice!" Twinky told Santa, who did so anyway.
"- I am only able to estimate," Spock added, as a resounding splash sounded in the background.
"What did I tell you? You're too damn heavy to go-"
"That's alright, Spock, just-"
"Traipsing around on paper thin ice!"
"- get us as close as you can," Kirk finished, his voice almost drowned out by yet more tirades from Twinky.
"Oh Lord," McCoy groaned, rubbing his temples, "I think I'm getting a headache."
"I thought it would help!" Santa protested, struggling to heave himself out of the waist deep puddle of freezing water.
"And how," McCoy demanded, joining in with Twinky, "was it supposed to?"
"It is possible that he believed it to be a 'short cut', Leonard."
"Well it wasn't," McCoy pointed out needlessly. "And now we have to get him out of there before he catches something that I won't be able to compete with!"
Santa waggled his eyebrows.
"You know that's not what I meant!"
"I kn..." he broke off suddenly, looking at the water in contemplation. "Oh."
"What?"
"I've gone numb," Santa explained, beginning to turn red in the face. "I don't think I like that sensation..."
"Maybe we should get you out before you're permanently numb, then," McCoy muttered, reaching for one of Santa's outstretched hands and beginning to pull.
Taking the hint, everyone else joined in, though Twinky's efforts were minimal due to his small stature and Kirk could not seem to stop smirking at the incredible situation. As they pulled, the weight in their arms began to get lighter and lighter, at first buoyed by the water, and the shivering that had begun to start up became less noticeable.
"What the..." McCoy stared at the empty sleeve in his hand, eyes travelling upwards until they saw a smaller version of Santa's head, staring back at him curiously.
"What?"
"Your arm has disappeared."
Santa looked at the missing appendage. "Really? I can't see any difference."
"There's a big gap right there," McCoy said, rolling up the sleeve to show that there was indeed no arm.
Santa raised an eyebrow, looking slightly impatient. "Hilarious, Doctor, but all I can see is a very blue looking arm – can you keep pulling me out of the water? I don't want..."
His voice began to fade as his body began to shrink further.
"...to be here..."
All three officers exchanged wary glances as they watched the process.
"...until the end of time..."
"Spock?" Kirk asked, finally finding his voice.
"...with Twinky glaring at me for failing...again..."
"It would appear that there is a further fault with the illusion."
"Twinky?" Kirk called, looking around wildly for any sight of the elf. He wasn't there. "Santa, I...right."
"He appears not to be here, Jim."
"Well done," McCoy applauded sarcastically.
"So very sorry," a timid voice called out from the trees, making the two humans jump. "I should have realised sooner, it is my job, of course, but I just didn't notice until now." A small man appeared from the shadows, panting slightly, gazing up into their faces in concern. "Are you alright?"
"I think we are, yes," Kirk replied, wavering between relief and confusion.
"I'm the one in charge of your illusion," the man explained.
"Didn't the zombie children clue you in to the fact it wasn't entirely right?" McCoy asked.
The man shook his head, small beard jiggling fretfully. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm unfamiliar with your customs, you see, and I only had a vague description to base my illusion on in the first place."
"Vague?" Kirk repeated, looking put out.
"You gave me a detailed picture of the cottage, yes," the man explained impatiently, "but not what you planned for inside apart from the general idea of a 'werewolf' and a 'secret passage'. When I saw what was happening, I didn't realise it was out of the ordinary."
"What about the fact that I said it was?" McCoy demanded.
"There's no sound on my monitor. I can only see what's going on, and I can't lip-read your language. It was only after I researched your traditions that I realised your shock and confusion was genuine."
"Oh," McCoy drawled sarcastically, "then in that case, I suppose we have you to thank for being frozen in the middle of a wood-"
"Bones."
"- with a suicidal driver of a festive man and depressed elf-"
"Bones."
"-after being attacked inside a house made of ginger, of all things-"
"Leonard," Spock said, his sharp tone finally drawing McCoy from his rant, "you will cease."
McCoy finally realised what he was doing and subsided into silence, though he was not happy about it.
The man shifted about on his feet nervously. "Shall I take you back to the centre, then? I can beam you back from there and send your belongings up afterwards. Any more illusions at this point are impossible, I'm afraid. The equipment is under repair and all the others are in use."
"That would be great," Kirk replied with a grateful smile.
Giving a nod of his head, the man began leading them in the direction he had come, jabbering along the way about their fascinating culture and strange ideas of a Christmas break. When he finally opened the door to their illusion centre, the three officers were greeted by a crowd of anxious looking technicians, all of whom instantly relaxed the moment they set eyes on them.
What followed was half an hour of profuse apologies and celebration, mixed together to create such a din of noise that it was almost impossible to hear much of anything.
McCoy snorted and rolled his eyes as he was led off to the kitchens for some 'revitalising hot drinks'. "Gnomes."
