Disclaimer: Voyager's at the top of my Christmas list this year.
For this one, I want you all to think of the Mariah Carey version of the song. And the Admiral singing it.
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Year 2: Admiral Paris and his wife, All I Want For Christmas
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I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
For Admirals with decorated and colorful careers, this was common enough: Alicia Paris would find her husband sitting at the kitchen table, his chin sunk down to his chest and his arms crossed, snoring softly before a sealed bottle of andorian ale, a clean glass, and a single PADD.
He had plenty of excuses to do so, and still more to unseal the bottle and take a good, long swig of the burning ambrosia, though he always returned the untouched bottle to its place on the top shelf sometime before morning. For whatever reason, the tradition helped Owen conquer his demons and Alicia stopped worrying about the action in and of itself. This year, at least, her husband's strange habits might save Christmas: Santa might be the only person not hung over.
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
There was always a pall cast over Christmas in the Paris household, due to a certain conspicuous absence where the life of the party once was. All the grandkids would run away to play by themselves, while the adults would fill their glasses with as much Christmas cheer as they could stomach. Christmas was still there and still fun for the rest of the family — Alicia made certain of that — but it was times like these when she could feel how subdued and how forced it really was.
God, Thomas, if you could see us now. . . . With any luck — and he had a healthy share of that, no matter what anyone thought — they could spend the next Christmas together. The old song said 'Stand by your man,' but Alicia, as a mother, had to put her foot down somewhere. Even if Tom was carted right back off to New Zealand, that was right where Christmas would be. With family. She sat at the table, running her thumb along the well-worn seal. With any luck, Owen was learning that lesson, too.
Her eyes drifted to the PADD, and she jumped when she heard her husband's voice. "They're calling off the search," he said. The Parises were frozen for a moment in time, the meaning of the words stuck between them in a heavy silence. Finally, the Admiral let out a deep breath. "They're going to wait until the holidays are over, but they've exhausted every possible search. Whatever happened, Voyager's lost."
"Owen—"
"Most people probably figure that, by now. They're going to schedule a memorial service, of course, probably in January or February. Fitting, too, it'll probably be rainy and foggy no matter what day they—"
"Owen." Alicia placed a hand on her husband's arm. Her tears were already dripping to the table, leaving their marks on the place where a life, now gone, had once touched. "Please."
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
A/N: Someone actually pegged this one after I wrote it and before I published it.
And I still need to know who I should do for year four.
Please Review.