Title: Christmas, Chapter 3
By: Angel
Disclaimers: See Ch 1
3rd Christmas Captain Archer's POV
It's late. Not that time really has any meaning on a starship, but I know the artificially determined time is nearly midnight. I'm only stopping now because my eyes are so tired, I can't see straight anymore. I can't believe I've been in the Command Center since six am with nothing more than a couple of bathroom breaks. Ensign Fisk, Chef's assistant, brought me enough coffee throughout the day to keep a small army caffeinated, but I didn't eat any of the food he brought. 'I wonder if there's any dinner leftover in the mess hall?' I wonder as I drag my sorry butt down the dimly lit corridor.
The doors to the mess open with a slight 'whoosh' and I pull myself through them. Although I expected the room to be empty at this time of night, I'm pleasantly surprised to see my exec and my chief engineer seated in a corner, far away from the entry. They have their backs to the entrance and seem to be sitting awfully close together. I manage a tired smile and am about to call out a 'hello' when I notice something. They didn't hear me come in; in fact, they seem to be in a completely different world. 'I must be imagining it. But, they sure look cozy.'
I know it's wrong, but something makes me move closer to the couple; by staying behind debris from the last battle with the Xindi I manage to remain unnoticed, 'Even T'Pol doesn't seem to know I'm here. This is damn strange!' I get within two tables of them and take a seat. I don't intend to eavesdrop much, just enough to make sure I'm not interrupting something personal.
Trip's voice is quiet, but I'm so focused on them I can make it out. "Here ya' are then, T'Pol. Merry Christmas." I watch him slide a small package across the table to her. It's wrapped in an old piece of cloth and tied with what appears to be a bootlace. 'Sad. I remember our first Christmas on Enterprise. The paper was beautiful and he had to convince her to rip it. Things have really gotten bad if we can't even spare wrap for Christmas presents. Damn Xindi!' As I watch her accept the gift, I'd swear her hand lingers on his a moment longer than necessary. Then, as she begins to gently untie the lace a conversation from last year comes back to me.
It was early morning, a few days after Christmas. Trip and I had just sat down to breakfast. "Where's T'Pol at today?" the engineer asked.
"She offered to take an early watch on the bridge," I answered bringing my coffee cup to my mouth.
His only response was a small grunt around his own full mouth. Soon, he handed me a package wrapped in gold foil. "Here ya' are, Jon. I'm sorry it's late, but I hope ya' like it."
I hesitated a moment. "What about T'Pol's gift?" I'd inquired.
"Oh. It's okay, we exchanged presents the other night. Go on, open it."
As I watch them now, I wonder if I'll be offered a gift tomorrow or if the past few months have put such distance between us that they won't even think of me this year. To be honest, I didn't even realize today is Christmas. I blink away the moisture in my eyes, afraid of what I'm becoming. Damn Expanse.
"Thank you, Commander. It's very thoughtful of you." T'Pol is holding a small plaque in her hand. At least she doesn't call him 'Trip', yet. "'Home is Where the Heart Is', that is quite an emotional statement. Of course, I would expect nothing less." Did she just tease him? And since when is such a gift 'thoughtful' and not 'illogical'? What else is going on around here that I've been missing?
Trip seems to blush slightly before responding. "I'm glad ya' like it. I had to scavenge that chunk of metal from a pile of scraps after our last firefight. It took weeks to polish it up and then to engrave it with a plasma torch." He puts weeks' worth of work into her gifts now? When did he find time?"
I watch in dismay as T'Pol reaches next to her chair and produces a medium- sized box; it seems to be wrapped in a satiny material. She hands it Trip and again their hands seem to be in contact just a fraction of a second longer than is necessary. 'Okay, since when does T'Pol give Christmas presents?' I wonder. I think back to last year. Nope, I definitely didn't receive anything from her, just Trip.
Now he's definitely blushing as he unwraps the box. I can see why. It was wrapped in what appears to be a pajama top. "I'll need that back, I'm afraid, Commander," her tone is soft, melodious, not a sound I ever thought I'd hear from a Vulcan. And more teasing? What the hell is this?
Trip opens the box and pulls out several large candles. "Aren't these yours?" he asks, turning one over in his hand. I can smell the faint scent from here, but I can't quite place it. Something earthy and at the same time musky.
"They were mine, now they are yours. I anticipate that there may be nights when we are unable to conduct our neuro-pressure sessions and thought it wise to begin instructing you in the arts of meditation as well to help you through those times." She sounds logical again, but there is an undertone of expectation, like she's looking forward to those lessons. Wait a minute; 'neuro-pressure'? I thought that was done months ago.
I look over again and see him try to hand the candles back to her. "T'Pol, I 'preciate it, but I can't accept these. Who knows when we'll be out of this damn expanse. Ya' may not be able to get candles again for awhile."
"I would be most disappointed if you refuse my gift, Commander."
Sighing, Trip is looking down at the present. He's nodding and beginning to stand. "Well, all right then. I'm lookin' forward to it. Listen, I think we should get goin'. It's pretty late and we both have duty first thin' in the mornin'" He's pulling her chair out slightly for her, and she's rising. I have to shift my position a little to avoid being seen, but there's no way I want them to know I'm here now.
I watch as they near the door, his hand on the small of her back gently guiding her. 'I thought Vulcans didn't like to be touched!' Just as they reach the hatch, T'Pol stops and turns to Trip. "Merry Christmas, Commander." And, oh my God! She just reached up and kissed him on the cheek before walking out of the mess hall. Judging by the look on his face, he's just as surprised as I am. "Uh, yeah. Merry Christmas to you, too," I hear him mutter as he exits.
Half an hour later, I'm still sitting in stunned silence. What has become of me? Of my relationships with my friends? Since when are Trip and T'Pol so friendly? At what point did my work...no, my obsession with the Expanse take over so completely that I didn't even notice their friendship develop?
Rising from my secluded seat, I determine that this is too much to deal with right now. But I swear, the minute we are done with the Xindi, the three of us are having a nice long breakfast and I'm going to get to know my friends all over again. The doors to the mess hall close on the empty room as I make my way back to the Command Center.
The End
By: Angel
Disclaimers: See Ch 1
3rd Christmas Captain Archer's POV
It's late. Not that time really has any meaning on a starship, but I know the artificially determined time is nearly midnight. I'm only stopping now because my eyes are so tired, I can't see straight anymore. I can't believe I've been in the Command Center since six am with nothing more than a couple of bathroom breaks. Ensign Fisk, Chef's assistant, brought me enough coffee throughout the day to keep a small army caffeinated, but I didn't eat any of the food he brought. 'I wonder if there's any dinner leftover in the mess hall?' I wonder as I drag my sorry butt down the dimly lit corridor.
The doors to the mess open with a slight 'whoosh' and I pull myself through them. Although I expected the room to be empty at this time of night, I'm pleasantly surprised to see my exec and my chief engineer seated in a corner, far away from the entry. They have their backs to the entrance and seem to be sitting awfully close together. I manage a tired smile and am about to call out a 'hello' when I notice something. They didn't hear me come in; in fact, they seem to be in a completely different world. 'I must be imagining it. But, they sure look cozy.'
I know it's wrong, but something makes me move closer to the couple; by staying behind debris from the last battle with the Xindi I manage to remain unnoticed, 'Even T'Pol doesn't seem to know I'm here. This is damn strange!' I get within two tables of them and take a seat. I don't intend to eavesdrop much, just enough to make sure I'm not interrupting something personal.
Trip's voice is quiet, but I'm so focused on them I can make it out. "Here ya' are then, T'Pol. Merry Christmas." I watch him slide a small package across the table to her. It's wrapped in an old piece of cloth and tied with what appears to be a bootlace. 'Sad. I remember our first Christmas on Enterprise. The paper was beautiful and he had to convince her to rip it. Things have really gotten bad if we can't even spare wrap for Christmas presents. Damn Xindi!' As I watch her accept the gift, I'd swear her hand lingers on his a moment longer than necessary. Then, as she begins to gently untie the lace a conversation from last year comes back to me.
It was early morning, a few days after Christmas. Trip and I had just sat down to breakfast. "Where's T'Pol at today?" the engineer asked.
"She offered to take an early watch on the bridge," I answered bringing my coffee cup to my mouth.
His only response was a small grunt around his own full mouth. Soon, he handed me a package wrapped in gold foil. "Here ya' are, Jon. I'm sorry it's late, but I hope ya' like it."
I hesitated a moment. "What about T'Pol's gift?" I'd inquired.
"Oh. It's okay, we exchanged presents the other night. Go on, open it."
As I watch them now, I wonder if I'll be offered a gift tomorrow or if the past few months have put such distance between us that they won't even think of me this year. To be honest, I didn't even realize today is Christmas. I blink away the moisture in my eyes, afraid of what I'm becoming. Damn Expanse.
"Thank you, Commander. It's very thoughtful of you." T'Pol is holding a small plaque in her hand. At least she doesn't call him 'Trip', yet. "'Home is Where the Heart Is', that is quite an emotional statement. Of course, I would expect nothing less." Did she just tease him? And since when is such a gift 'thoughtful' and not 'illogical'? What else is going on around here that I've been missing?
Trip seems to blush slightly before responding. "I'm glad ya' like it. I had to scavenge that chunk of metal from a pile of scraps after our last firefight. It took weeks to polish it up and then to engrave it with a plasma torch." He puts weeks' worth of work into her gifts now? When did he find time?"
I watch in dismay as T'Pol reaches next to her chair and produces a medium- sized box; it seems to be wrapped in a satiny material. She hands it Trip and again their hands seem to be in contact just a fraction of a second longer than is necessary. 'Okay, since when does T'Pol give Christmas presents?' I wonder. I think back to last year. Nope, I definitely didn't receive anything from her, just Trip.
Now he's definitely blushing as he unwraps the box. I can see why. It was wrapped in what appears to be a pajama top. "I'll need that back, I'm afraid, Commander," her tone is soft, melodious, not a sound I ever thought I'd hear from a Vulcan. And more teasing? What the hell is this?
Trip opens the box and pulls out several large candles. "Aren't these yours?" he asks, turning one over in his hand. I can smell the faint scent from here, but I can't quite place it. Something earthy and at the same time musky.
"They were mine, now they are yours. I anticipate that there may be nights when we are unable to conduct our neuro-pressure sessions and thought it wise to begin instructing you in the arts of meditation as well to help you through those times." She sounds logical again, but there is an undertone of expectation, like she's looking forward to those lessons. Wait a minute; 'neuro-pressure'? I thought that was done months ago.
I look over again and see him try to hand the candles back to her. "T'Pol, I 'preciate it, but I can't accept these. Who knows when we'll be out of this damn expanse. Ya' may not be able to get candles again for awhile."
"I would be most disappointed if you refuse my gift, Commander."
Sighing, Trip is looking down at the present. He's nodding and beginning to stand. "Well, all right then. I'm lookin' forward to it. Listen, I think we should get goin'. It's pretty late and we both have duty first thin' in the mornin'" He's pulling her chair out slightly for her, and she's rising. I have to shift my position a little to avoid being seen, but there's no way I want them to know I'm here now.
I watch as they near the door, his hand on the small of her back gently guiding her. 'I thought Vulcans didn't like to be touched!' Just as they reach the hatch, T'Pol stops and turns to Trip. "Merry Christmas, Commander." And, oh my God! She just reached up and kissed him on the cheek before walking out of the mess hall. Judging by the look on his face, he's just as surprised as I am. "Uh, yeah. Merry Christmas to you, too," I hear him mutter as he exits.
Half an hour later, I'm still sitting in stunned silence. What has become of me? Of my relationships with my friends? Since when are Trip and T'Pol so friendly? At what point did my work...no, my obsession with the Expanse take over so completely that I didn't even notice their friendship develop?
Rising from my secluded seat, I determine that this is too much to deal with right now. But I swear, the minute we are done with the Xindi, the three of us are having a nice long breakfast and I'm going to get to know my friends all over again. The doors to the mess hall close on the empty room as I make my way back to the Command Center.
The End