A/N: At the risk of exposing the punch line to this whole melodrama, if you haven't read my story A Questionable Experiment, then you might want to. It's not strictly necessary but it will clear up part of the plot line.
Admiral Jonathon Archer slowly opened his eyes and squinted at the brightness around him. He became aware of his surroundings one piece at a time. As his protesting eyes come into focus he saw the sun rising brightly on the San Francisco skyline through his apartment's large picture window.
He was on his bed, in his apartment, still in the pale blue pajama bottoms he donned the night before. Sitting up he saw his half eaten catfish dinner, now cold and congealed, still on the table next to his computer. With a start, eyes widening, his memories finally caught up with the rest of his thoughts. He jumped out of bed, turning quickly this way and that, trying to see his entire apartment at once, trying to confirm that he was where he thought he was and that he was indeed alone.
"Computer," he rasped, his voice rough and sore. Reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table, Jonathan recalled that he had recently been screaming, fighting for his life. How long ago was that? A moment, a lifetime? He had no idea. He swallowed a sip, coughed and tried again. "Computer, what is today's date?"
"Today's date is December twenty-fifth, two thousand—"
"Never mind the rest," he said impatiently, cutting off the computer, striding to the window to look out on the bright new day before him. I haven't missed it! It's not too late! he thought joyously.
Pacing a few steps, in a daze, Archer silently mused, then sat back down on the bed absentmindedly. "The spirits did it all in one night. How was I only gone one night? Was it some sort of temporal… never mind, I don't want to know. Some things we're not meant to know," he murmured. Slowly rising from the bed, lost in thought a moment, his joyous expression faded as his face became grim with new determination.
"Computer, connect me with the database of that new department store on River Street, the one with the large store front. I don't remember the name of it."
"Connecting…" Definitely not A.G.'s voice this time, he thinks, hearing the feminine voice of the central computer.
"If they're open, they'll have everything I need. I'll want something for each of the children," he spoke to himself as he worked his way through his apartment, moving last night's dinner from the desk to the trash, the plate to the sink. "Computer, access Star Fleet records and tell me the names and ages of Lt. Robert Cratchit's children," he requested as he quickly straightened up his bed. Even as excited as he was the habits of a lifetime kicked in as he couldn't leave his personal space untidy.
After the computer notified him of the information he requested, Jonathan sat down briefly at his desk to pick out toys for each of the children. Something fun, frivolous, and expensive for each of them. He suspected that they almost certainly never had things like what he was choosing, with the medical bills that their parents' have been paying. However, he had plenty and what would he do with it if not spend it on those around him? Quickly completing the order by adding several baskets of holiday treats he sent it off to the Cratchit residence.
Feeling good about what he just did Jon remembered how he treated the two men from Star Fleet Relief yesterday. Running his hands over his face in exasperation he leaned back towards his computer and quickly took care of an extravagant donation. After last night's visitation Jon realized just how valuable those funds were to those in need. He should have been donating all along. Sighing at his own folly he refocused at the task at hand. Dwelling on the past would slow his future plans, as he had so much to do and so little time. This epiphany gave him an effervescence of spirit, filling him with renewed energy.
Leaning back in the chair he smiled, imagining the faces of the Cratchits as the delivery was made later in the day. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long after that he'd be able to stop by to personally deliver his Christmas greetings and have a heartfelt discussion with his lieutenant. Grimacing, Jonathan acknowledged, if he had been a better commanding officer he would have taken a personal interest in the lives of not just his lieutenant but all in his command, the way he did back on Enterprise. Shaking his head at the thought of lost opportunities he arose and walked back to his bedroom area.
"Computer, access the store database again and see if they have hors d'oeuvre trays still available. Something with tropical fruit," he spoke as he turned to his dresser and started rummaging through it.
"She always liked tropical fruit, which would be a decent first step in being cordial…" he mused as he tossed socks and briefs on the bed. "Casual? More dressy?" he questioned aloud, staring out the window. "Slightly dressy, don't want to give them all a heart attack thinking I'm mentally ill, no one's seen me out of uniform in years," he stated, smiling, his face almost creaking with the unaccustomed movement, as he dashed to the closet searching through his uniforms for a pair of khaki trousers and a collared shirt. Rejecting everything he had as too somber for Travis's party he came upon the Hawaiian shirt Trip gave to him years ago, right before he died. A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he held the shirt aloft in the morning sunlight. Jonathan realized that he had never worn the shirt, but he had not been able to rid his life of such a tangible reminder of his best friend. Today would be the perfect day to wear it. Who knew, maybe this was Trip's way of telling him to get back to living, with that cheeky way he had of pulling his commanding officer out of his serious moods . Archer placed the brightly cheerful shirt on the bed and inhaled deeply, allowing the emotions, both pleasant and not so, to suffuse him instead of ruthlessly pushing them away like he had always been wont to do.
Jon knew he had to make amends with his old crew. He had shut them completely out of his life and that had not only hurt them but himself. He would take Travis up on his offer and attend his Christmas Day party for the first time ever. As he walked through his apartment finding odds and ends, his sunglasses, his casual shoes buried under the bed, a leather belt for his trousers, he thought about how to make peace with Hoshi. He would never dream of trying to come between her and Malcolm, they were happy. But he did want to get to know his daughter, even if Henrietta never knew of their true relationship. As he began to embrace his new attitude of joy and anticipate reconnecting with those that meant so much to his life, he became more and more excited at the prospects of his day.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he mentally made a list of all that must be done today, whom he must visit, what else must be purchased, what plans must be laid. Jon knew the future could be changed and that he was to be an instrument of that change. After everything he learned last night he refused to sit idly by and let Lt. Cratchett's child, Timothy, die. There were people to consult and he had the power to pull those strings and make things happen at Medical.
"Computer, start the coffee maker, extra strong," he called out again, thankful for the technology to do such things for him so he could get ready faster.
He strode into the bathroom and started the shower, letting the hot water fog the mirror and take the chill from the tiled room. He walked back into the main area of his apartment, still mulling over his list.
Suddenly he heard something behind him, a noise in his closet; he turned to look as his feet kept going towards the bathroom. He heard a giggle echo off the bathroom tiling, felt his feet trip over something soft and bulky, and his body fly forward off the raised bedroom area into the living area just a step below. He felt his shoulders hit the cold floor, his head connected with the foot of his sofa and everything started to fade to blackness.
How did Porthos's bed move from the end of the my bed into the middle of the floor? was his last thought.
Captain Jonathon Archer's eyes slowly opened and peered into the darkness surrounding him. He became aware of his surroundings one piece at a time. As his eyes come into focus he saw the stars rushing by his quarter's small port side window. The room was gently illuminated by the clock on the bedside table. He was on his bed, in his quarters on Enterprise, still in the pale blue pajama bottoms he donned the night before. As he sat up and shifted in the bed, Porthos looked up, his tail thumping at the noise of rustling bed linens. A half-eaten plate of cheese and a glass of wine were on the desk, both now warm and unappetizing. With a start, eyes widening, his dreams finally caught up with the rest of him.
"That was some dream," he said aloud and Porthos hopped out of his own bed and trotted over, nuzzling Jon's hand. He smiled down at his dog, "No more cheese for me before bed," he vowed ruefully to him. Porthos's tail wagged in agreement.
"Computer, date and time," he called out.
"It is o-fouro hundred, December twenty-first, two thousand—"
"I didn't miss it!" he exclaimed, cutting off the computer. Shaking his head at the strangeness of his dream he tossed the bed linens aside, rose and walked over to his desk. Turning on his terminal, the glare of the screen illuminated the planes of his face and stubble covered jaw. His eyes scanned for the request he had read before heading off to bed last night, a request from Chef for an All Hands Christmas party. Jon sat back and sighed, his hand running through his short hair. If he was honest with himself he hadn't wanted to celebrate the holiday this year, their time in the Expanse still fresh in his mind, but he knew that his crew needed this well-earned diversion. Jon had put off Ok'ing the request, knowing he would in the end, but trying to find a graceful way for himself to not have to attend.
Porthos padded over and nudged his leg asking for an ear rub. Looking down at his canine companion he rubbed Porthos's ears and the dog leaned in, his eyes closing in happiness. Jon realized that not only was Porthos always there for him, but so were the members of his crew. Even through the darkest times in the Expanse, Jon always knew that he had the support, the respect, and even the love of his crew. If they could be there for him through those emotionally turbulent and physically dangerous times then he could buck up and be there for them.
Tapping at the keys, Jon quickly agreed to the request and sent it on its way. "I'll go," he murmured into the early morning hush. Porthos put his paws on Jon's leg, tail wagging furiously. Jon stood and Porthos ran back to his bed, eyes bright, watching.
"What to bring?" he mused as he walked to his wardrobe and opened it, rummaging around inside. He straightened up suddenly, his face lit up in excitement. "I know! Phlox has been on me about some shore leave for the crew. I'll have T'Pol come up with a plan for a trip to Risa next month and a roster that will have an extra day of shore leave for the entire crew." He smiled to himself as he went back to poking around in his wardrobe. Pulling out a pair of Starfleet issue sweats and a t-shirt Jon started to change. Sitting down on his bed to put on his running shoes he looked over at Porthos eagerly waiting on his bed. "I should give gifts to the Senior Bridge Crew though, don't you think?" he asked in a thoughtful tone.
Porthos gave a soft huff in response. Jon chuckled at the dog's antics. "Well, let's see," he mused as he finished tying his shoes. He snapped his fingers, "I've got it. I'll give T'Pol my copy of The Art of War by Sun Tso, she should find that interesting and once she's read through it that will make interesting dinner debate. For Trip...I'll let Trip pick out the next batch of movie titles for the next three months, and no matter how corny they are, I'll go to each one. There that's two," he said and stood up and went into the bathroom to freshen up.
Coming out wiping his face with a small towel, he looked at Porthos and said, "For Phlox, a copy of Mom's apple pie recipe. He's always wanting to try new foods." Walking back to his wardrobe he took out the box with the odds and ends he had acquired at the various ports of call. "Ahh!" he exclaimed as he pulled out a deadly razor sharp dagger and laid it on the bed. It was Klingon and he had come by it when he had been on Kronos. It would be perfect for Malcolm. Two more to go. Getting up, he went back to his computer and looked at their flight plan, an idea forming. He would authorize leave for Travis so that when they passed close by his family's transport Travis could have a week or two with them. He really should have another one of his pilots spend more time at the helm and he knew that Travis was especially close to his family and missed them.
"That just leaves Hoshi," he said, his eyes distant as he leaned back once more in his chair lost in thought. What to get for her? Should he go personal or shy away and do something more casual? He did have the perfect gift for her, when he had seen it in the market place on Ashkimante and learned what it was he had bought it with her in mind. He rose and went back to the box. Reaching in, he pulled out a cloth wrapped bundle. Sitting, he unwrapped the iridescent fabric to reveal a leather bound book, its cover tooled with stylized geometric designs. It was a book of poems from that world, in their language. She would love it, but would she read too much into it? It was a book of love poems. If he were honest with himself, he wouldn't care if she did read into the gift. He loved her, he always had, and almost losing her to the Xindi had only made him realize the depth of feelings he had for her.
He held the book in his hands, looking down at it and wondering. "What do you think?" he said to Porthos sheepishly. Porthos bounced in place, another huff coming from him.
Jon smiled and said, "You're right, I will. If not now, when? We're not guaranteed tomorrow and maybe she'll read between the lines... she is Earth's best linguist after all," he finished with a small smile as he carefully put both the dagger and the book back into the box. "Besides, if she does, then maybe... well, maybe I can tell her how I've felt about her all these years."
Rising, he called for Porthos and headed to the door. It was time for them to get their morning walk in before Alpha shift. Captain Archer had a lot to do today and it was best to hit the floor running. As the door closed behind them a small figure stepped out from the shadows, somehow unnoticed in the tiny cabin. It is a small pale boy with dark hair wearing a red and black uniform that Star Fleet wouldn't issue yet for several hundred years. His eyes practically glowed with glee and a broad smile lit up his face.
"That turned out better than I anticipated!" he chortled to himself as he walked over to the desk and sniffed at the wine left there. Wrinkling his nose at the musty scent he turned back to the room. "They never even knew what was happening this time!" the boy said happily. Stopping with a sudden thought he mused aloud, "I wonder where I should take them next?" and with that, a snap of his fingers, and a brilliant flash of light, he was gone.
A/N: Now that we've reached the end I am sure that you are aware that Junior, Q's son, has been toying with the crew of Enterprise again. Some kids just can't keep out of trouble!
Thank you to all who were patient with this story. It took much longer to get this out of my head and onto the computer than originally anticipated. Many thanks to all who read, reviewed, and offered advice.