Just a little something

Chapter 3

Doctor Phlox looked at the readings on the monitor of the imaging chamber as his patient slid out. He could see no physical reason as to why his patient's blood pressure had skyrocketed. "Well, Mr. Reed, I see nothing wrong with you physically - you are in excellent shape." he pointed out.

Malcolm Reed sat up slowly and nodded. "I've just had a bad day, that's all." he stated softly as the doctor sat down on the stool beside the bed.

"Why don't you tell me what happened today?" he suggested.

Malcolm hesitated. He didn't like to talk about his personal life.

"Reed men don't impose upon other people's valuable time with their petty problems, we work out our problems by ourselves" - at least that's what his father had always reminded him.

Malcolm looked at the Denobulan Doctor and couldn't help but remember how many times the man had put him back together after his mishaps. Even though he wasn't the most compliant patient, the man always treated him kindly. He took a deep breath, perhaps it was time to actually talk. "It started this morning with the treadmill . . ." Malcolm explained the events of the day.

Phlox nodded slowly when the man finished, "You've had a very challenging day. I understand how the treadmill, and the postponing of the weapons qualifications, and even the power fluctuation could get you upset - but why did the decorating of the Mess Hall upset you so much? I thought most of the crew enjoyed the holidays."

Malcolm frowned softly, "I've always like the holidays. It was the one time of year that my family was actually a pleasure to be around. My Nana would always host us for the holidays. She went all out every year, she'd bring out the decorations that had been in our family for hundreds of years. She'd always let me and my sister help put the ornaments on the tree with her and she'd tell us the history of each one." She had been such a historian. She could tell them their whole family history through those ornaments. He remembered his favorite ornament, an original replica of a field gun cannon. His great, great grandfather had been in charge of a field gun unit and they had fought bravely during the war. Malcolm had always been intrigued with weapons and how they worked. Not that he wanted to do harm to others, but he did feel a deep obligation to protect others. Malcolm looked up and realized he'd been reminiscing in front of the doctor.

Phlox stroked his chin, "My grandmother, Antalia, was very comforting to me, too. She would regale us with stories of our ancestors. Actually, she was the one that got me interested in studying medicine." He looked at his patient, "You talk about her in past tense, when did she die?" he asked softly.

Malcolm sighed heavily, "Just two weeks ago. I didn't think it would affect me as much as it has." he realized.

Phlox stood up slowly and put the stool back where it belonged, "We often deny ourselves the chance to grieve for those we are closest too." He walked back over to his patient, "I think now that you realize what has really been upsetting you, you'll be able to see the problems of today for what they are - just little problems."

Malcolm smiled softly as he got off the examining table, "Thank you." He took a deep breath, "Have you had dinner yet, Doctor?"

Phlox smiled brightly, "I haven't yet. Sounds like an excellent idea!"

The two men walked down the corridors quietly and stepped into the Mess Hall.

Malcolm smiled softly at the twinkling lights and the familiar holiday music playing over the speakers.

Trip came over quickly and patted his friend's back, "Hey, you're in a better mood!" he smiled.

Malcolm glanced at Phlox, then back to Trip. "Just had a lot of bumps in the road today."

Trip nodded as they went through the line and selected their dinners. "Happens to all of us."

Malcolm's eyes widened as they walked past the Christmas tree, or at least what was left of it. He looked at Trip quickly, "What in the world happened to the tree?" The poor thing had shrunk to only three-fourths its original height.

Trip took a deep breath, "It was so crooked. . . we decided to cut it and splice it together straight. You really can't tell." he tried to point out.

Phlox squinted at the tree, "What is that silver stuff?"

Trip frowned, "Duct tape - it was the only thing we could find to hold it together."

Malcolm smiled softly. He could tell his friend felt badly about the tree. "You can't really see the duct tape. I bet if we put enough decorations and lights on it, no one will be the wiser."

Trip smiled gratefully to his friend, then he snapped his fingers. "Hey, you got a package delivered with all of the cargo." He went over to the side table and brought over the nine inch by nine inch box. He inspected the address label, "Who's Nana?" he asked as he sat down.

Malcolm looked at the box and noted that it had started it's travels almost a month ago. He fingered the edges of the box carefully. "My Grandmother that died recently." he said softly.

Trip sighed softly, "I'm sorry about your grandmother, Malcolm." He glanced at the doctor, not sure what else to say.

Phlox smiled softly, "Mr. Reed, why don't you go ahead and open it?" he suggested.

Malcolm nodded slowly and pulled out his Leatherman from his pocket and used the knife tool to cut along the tape carefully. He opened the box and reached for the note on top.

Dearest Malcolm,

Here's just a little something for you this Christmas.

Love always,

Nana

Malcolm moved the tissue paper and blinked back the burning sensation in his eyes. He pulled out the small field gun cannon ornament. Oh, Nana - you always knew. He took in a calming breath and let it out slowly.

Phlox nodded and patted Malcolm's back, "A fine gift."

"Wow, that looks really old." Trip said in awe of the detailing on the ornament.

Malcolm nodded and smiled softly as he showed the ornament to his friends, "It has a very interesting story behind it . . ."