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Chapter Text

Act I, Scene I 

“You simply MUST go, Captain.  I even made some scrumptious egg nog, at Mr. Paris’s request!”

Kathryn looked up from her desk.  And looked again.  Neelix stood in the door of the captain’s Ready Room, dressed in a strange red and white striped costume covered in glitter.  Chakotay, who was leaning against her desk helping her with reports, smiled widely, showing off his dimples.

“What?” she asked, pointing at Neelix’s costume.

“Oh, this!  I’m a candy cane, Captain!  This party has a theme!”

“A theme, Captain,” Chakotay repeated, his eyes dancing.

“Oh, no,” Kathryn said. 

“Oh, yes!  We are all dressing up as characters from Earth’s Nutcracker ballet!”  he exclaimed. 

Kathryn rubbed her temples.  They had to be kidding her.

“And who thought this up?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim told me about the ballet,” he said.   “And I remembered that talent show we had years back, when you performed ballet.  So I thought it was a perfect idea!  Maybe you could dance for us again.”

Kathryn fought a glare.  Chakotay was barely holding in laughter.

“I don’t think so,” she clipped, her cheeriness strained.  “I have far too much work to do to indulge in a party.  But all the crew are encouraged to participate when they can.”

Neelix’s face fell.  She’d never seen such a pathetic candy cane.

“Oh, but Captain,” he protested.  “It won’t be the same without you there!  You don’t have to dance.  Just enjoy the festivities!  You have to see the Nutcracker program Mr. Kim and Mr. Paris created.”

Chakotay leaned closer.

“I really think we need to see it,” he said.

He was not helping matters.  Leave it to Tom and Harry to come up with the most irritating party theme they could think of for the winter holidays.

“Again, I am truly sorry, but I have work stacked to the ceiling,” she said, throwing out her hands.

She looked to Chakotay for help.  Her first officer, her best friend, her . . . 

“I’m sure you could take a quick break, Captain,” Chakotay encouraged.  “Just for a few minutes. See the crew, shake some hands, drink a little nog.  The reports can wait.”

Her jaw clenched.  She was demoting Chakotay to cadet as soon as this was over.  Neelix waited, his hands clenched together, hoping, a tear in his eye.  Oh, good God.

“Fine,” she said.  “I’ll come.  Briefly.”

“Wonderful!” Neelix cried, and practically danced out of the room.

Chakotay held out his arm.  Kathryn dropped her happy facade.

“You’re supposed to help me, not throw me to the wolves!” she cried.

“Wolves?” he asked.  “It’s harmless, I’m sure.  I thought you liked the Nutcracker.”

They’d already been through this, but Chakotay had selective hearing.

“I did - as a child,” she said.  “That was when I actually did ballet.  But no, you had to tell the crew I was a dancer.”

“You were so happy when you recalled your early days in dance,” he said.  “I thought it was sweet.”

“And then Neelix suggested that it be my talent for the talent show, remember?”

“You didn’t have to use that as your talent.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, standing up and shoving in her chair.  “He said it in front of the crew.  So then I had something to prove.”

“I thought you did very well with your short routine,” he said.

“Oh, I did,” Kathryn said, frustration bubbling over.  “Because I rehearsed for hours in the holodeck the night before!”

“Really?” Chakotay asked, surprised.  “Kathryn, you didn’t have to do that.  The crew just wants to see you, no matter what you do.”

“Fine,” she said, and took his arm.

“Should we stop by our quarters for a change?” Chakotay asked as they headed for the door.  “I think you’d be a shoe in for the Sugar Plum fairy.”

Kathryn kicked him in the back of the shins.

When they got to the holodeck, Kathryn had to admit that Tom and Harry worked very hard on the program.  It looked like they were in a mansion in the early 1800s with lavish, colorful holiday decorations in light pink, blue, green and purple that included a massive Christmas Tree that seemed to ascend into the heavens, covered with old glass ornaments in the same glimmering colors and lit up with thousands of tiny white lights.  Presents lay beneath the tree.  On a nearby table draped in a dramatic emerald green cloth was an authentic 1800s glass punch bowl, with little glasses and a tray of sweet confections beside it.

Many of the crew were already there, milling around, all of them with a glass in their hands.  Several crewmembers did dress up in holiday fashion, mostly with 1800s gowns and suits.  Kathryn had played along, putting on a green Victorian dress of silk and velvet, with a high, gathered waistline, and a low, off-the-shoulder neckline with a long flowing skirt that reached the floor.  Why they hid their ankles but showed so much of their cleavage back then was beyond Kathryn, but Chakotay had already complimented her twice.  If he looked at her chest one more time, she might have to kick him again.

Chakotay’s dark hair was slicked back and he wore a black tailored tail coat, a cream-colored waistcoat, and a white silk cravat about his neck.  He was gorgeous, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.  Tom approached with a large mouse wearing a crown.  The mouse removed his head.

“Hi,” Harry said.  “I’m the Mouse King.  Tom said he was going to dress up as the Nutcracker.”

“Guess I forgot,” Tom, who was dressed in a nice suit like Chakotay’s, shrugged.  Harry glared at him.

B’Elanna rolled her eyes.  She was squirming in her corset.

“I'll be the Nutcracker, Harry,” she offered.  

Harry laughed.

“Haha, funny.  You should have some egg nog, Captain,” Tom offered.  “Not sure what Neelix put in it, but it’s actually good.”

“Really good,” Harry agreed.  “I think you could get addicted to it.”

Kathryn hoped that meant it was heavily spiked with alcohol.  She needed it.  Chakotay poured them both a glass.  She’d never liked egg nog when her mother made it, but this was different, sweeter and warmer somehow.  Her body relaxed a little.  Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all.

She and Chakotay poured a second glass and wandered around the party, greeting crew members as they sipped.  Tuvok and Seven stood together, still in their uniforms like the killjoys they were.  The two of them usually made her look downright jolly.  But today Seven was teetering a little, and touching Tuvok more than was really necessary, and laughing bizarrely.  Even Tuvok wasn’t glaring like he usually did, but staring almost blissfully out the large windows.  A huge bank of snow was outside, with little flying snowflakes, no not snowflakes, fairies . . . oh wait.  Did Tom really add fairies?

“Are you - okay?” Chakotay asked.

He looked a little confused himself.  

“F-fine,” she said, closing her eyes then opening them.  No more little fairies.  Oh good. “Maybe - uh we could - not stand?”

“Right,” he agreed.  “Like - uh - couch.”

He pointed to a red velvet settee and they both collapsed on it.  The room was spinning.  Snowflakes transformed into dancing fairies again, and the tree began to grow even taller, taller, taller . . . 

Kathryn laid her head against Chakotay’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

Act I, Scene II 

Slowly the room stopped spinning, and suddenly Kathryn smelled pine, apple cider, pumpkin pie; felt the weight and warmth of a heavy blanket over her body, and heard an old, familiar voice calling from far away.

“Kathryn!  

That sounded like her mother.  Her mother?  Kathryn’s eyes flew open.  She was no longer on a settee, but lying on a bed that looked suspiciously like her childhood bed, complete with the quilts her mother and grandmother had made.  Her 1800’s dress was gone, replaced by a white nightgown with a little pink bow.

She sat up, and found herself in what appeared to be her old room.  It didn’t make sense.  This wasn’t even what her room looked like anymore.  She saw her treasured childhood possessions: a junior chemistry set, a handcrafted doll house, a well worn stuffed horse on a shelf, and ballet slippers dangling from her dresser.  All those things had disappeared when her mother turned her bedroom into a guest room many years ago.

Something was very wrong.  Oh, what force was screwing with her now?  The door rattled.  She stood.

“Chakotay?” she asked.

The door flew open to reveal her little sister Phoebe, who appeared to be six or seven-years-old, with her black hair still in ragged pigtails.

“Uh, no, dummy,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “It’s Christmas morning.  And there’s a surprise downstairs!”

She raced away.  Damn it.

“Computer, arch!” she cried.

Again, no change.  Was this some twisted stunt concocted by her junior officers?  They wouldn’t know this much about her life.  Q, maybe?  Q was definitely twisted enough, but he usually revealed himself sooner.  She left the room and headed down the stairs, when another voice stopped her in her tracks.

“There’s my Kate!”

She stared.  Her father stood below her beside the Christmas tree, a long black jacket over his uniform.

“Daddy?”

It was him, except he was younger, taller, his hair black again, his form slimmer in his crisp Starfleet uniform, and a strange joy filled her chest that she hadn’t felt in so long.  She hurried down the stairs and into his arms.

“You made it home!” she cried.  “I knew you would!”

He laughed, lifting her up in the air and setting her back down again.

“I pulled a few strings to see my Goldenbird,” he said, smiling.  “Now why don’t you go and open presents with the others.”

Kathryn ran to the tree.  Phoebe had already torn the wrapping off of her present.  She held up a ballerina doll.

“Thanks, Daddy!” she cried, hugging it close.

Kathryn eagerly picked up hers, carefully removing the beautiful foil wrapping paper so that she could save it for later while Phoebe watched impatiently.  A wooden soldier dressed in a bright red Starfleet dress uniform lay in the box.  She pulled it out happily, and saw that it was a Nutcracker.  

“He’s not just a pretty face, he’s functional too,” he father said, handing her a bowl of nuts.  “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” she said.  “It’s wonderful.”

“Let me see!” Phoebe cried, snatching the nutcracker away.  

She shoved a huge nut into its mouth.

“No!” Kathryn cried, tugging on the nutcracker.

“Now, Kate, you can share,” her father scolded.

But he didn’t understand. Phoebe was going to ruin it.  Like she ruined everything. Sure enough, Phoebe slammed down hard on the nutcracker, and the mouth broke.

“Oops,” Phoebe said.

Kathryn stared at the broken toy, devastated, but her father swooped in and tied a kerchief around the nutcracker’s jaw.

“There,” he said.  “I’ll fix him up later, but that will do for now.”

Soon, Kathryn’s disappointment faded as she got caught up in the Christmas festivities and the day rushed by her.  Somehow, she was a child again, her father was alive and well and home, and so was she.  It felt real.  It felt right.  So much so that she couldn’t sleep that night, and wandered back down to the tree.  

But something was wrong.  She heard strange noises, like mice skittering, but louder.  And then she saw the shadows.  Giant, orange, mutated mice with some sort of strange hair that resembled brillo pads raced out of the shadows and into the room. Kazon mice?  Their leader wore a golden crown, and swung a long sword at her.  She backed away, into someone else.

When she turned, she saw Chakotay.  He wore a full dress uniform, red with gold piping on the jacket that ended at his hips and contrasted nicely with his bronze skin, and dark pants with a scabbard at his side.  She recognized the makeshift bandage around his head.  His jaw was broken and bruised. 

“Stay back,” he ordered her as he withdrew his sword and headed into battle.

He fought bravely against the mutated creatures, but the Mouse King soon knocked him to the floor, and lifted its sword to stab him in the heart.  Kathryn searched herself.  She had no weapons, but her slipper was surprisingly solid and heavy.  With all her might, she flung it at the mouse king, and the creature fell, its head popping off and rolling away, revealing Seska’s Cardassian features beneath it. With their leader gone, the mice scurried away in fright.

Kathryn hurried to his side and Chakotay placed the mouse king’s, or rather rat queen’s, crown on her head.  She looked up into his deep, brown eyes and her breath caught in her throat.  No longer was she a child, but a young woman, full of hope and fear.

“Come with me,” he invited her, holding out his gloved hand.  

Chapter Text

Act II, Scene I

He waited, his hand outstretched.  She took his hand, and he led her out of the house to a shuttle drawn by two white reindeer.  Not your usual means of propulsion.  She climbed inside with him, and the shuttle took flight, no controls necessary.  The top of the shuttle flew off, and she could feel the icy wind in her hair and the cold air in her lungs and she shivered in her thin nightgown.  He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promised.

He was so close his breath was warm in her face, and she desperately wanted to kiss him.  It wasn’t the first time.  But he drew away as the open top shuttle twisted and turned, and she clung to her seat and his arm to keep from falling.  She could hear music playing, a tune she knew but couldn’t identify, though she saw no source.  They flew past the tops of snow covered houses and trees, then over a crystal clear ocean to an island filled with elaborate castles and towers made entirely out of marzipan, gingerbread, and other confections.  The roofs and spires were topped in light pink, blue, green, and purple gumdrops.  Tiny lights sparkled in all the windows.  

As they grew closer, she saw they weren’t lights at all, but tiny fairies dancing in the air.   Oh, God, it was just like those PSAs they showed in Starfleet Academy, warning them away from ingesting alien beverages without identifying them first.

“Chakotay,” she whispered, panic in her heart.  “We are so, so high.”

He squeezed her hand.

“We’ll be down soon,” he said, oblivious to her true meaning.  

The shuttle landed before a sparkling iced candy castle, and he whisked her inside to a giant ballroom.  Spun sugar coated the walls and floor, and two tall, gleaming thrones of solid ice awaited them.  He helped her to her seat, and sat beside her.  The throne was cold, so cold, and she was frozen, unable to escape.

A beautiful ballerina pirouetted into the room.  Her blond hair was swept up on her head, and her blue eyes flashed.  She was perfect, yet when she moved, Kathryn saw that she wasn’t a person at all, but a mechanical doll, held together with gold and silver wires, her movements exactly timed but jerky, uneven.  Her face was like glass, unmoving, blank.

“Seven,” Kathryn said.

“Welcome Princess Kathryn,” Seven said, her words holding no cadence.  “And Prince Chakotay.”

“We’re not . . .” Kathryn began.

“I am the Sugar Plum Fairy,” she stated firmly.  “Fun will now commence.”

Before Kathryn could utter another word, dozens upon dozens of other mechanical dolls filled the room, all wired exactly like Seven, their faces also glass, unmoving, blank.  Automotans.  Borg.

They were surrounded by Borg.  Oh, God. And they were dancing.  Kathryn pinched herself, but nothing happened as the mechanical dancers moved, gears screeching in time to the music.  They were followed by Vidiians performing some sort of Spanish themed dance with costumes resembling hot chocolate, their shoes clicking as they moved; then Hirogen, somehow sensually moving to an Arabian dance in coffee costumes; then the Voth, humanoid dinosaurs representing Chinese tea.  Because of course they were.  Right when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, orange Talaxians dressed as candy canes took to the floor, Neelix proudly dancing in front in his bare feet.  Kathryn covered her eyes.

“Make it stop,” she pleaded, peeking through her fingers.

Chakotay smiled gently and squeezed her hand, and her frozen body warmed again at his touch.   The Talaxians vanished and Seven the mechanical fairy returned, this time accompanied by a tin soldier with dark skin and long, tapered ears.  Tuvok.  They danced together, every move flawless and perfectly choreographed, yet stiff, repetitive, and void of feeling.  Kathryn could see herself out there, going through the motions, her every step carefully planned.  Day after day she performed for the crew, but they never really saw her beyond her stage on the Bridge.

Except for one person.  He sat beside her, quietly holding her hand, his battered jaw held shut with her father’s kerchief.  That was how she wanted it, wasn’t it?  She never let him speak about their feelings for each other, and now she could see the pain that silence created.

Her reverie was broken by the next two dancers, Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres.  Two other people she had never thought she’d see in tights.  She raised her eyes.  Their dance was far different from Seven’s and Tuvok’s.  It was chaotic, the pace slow for a moment, then frantically fast.  Their steps were random, out of order, as if they were each dancing their own individual dance.  But eventually they moved together, with B’Elanna at times lifting Tom instead of vice-versa.  And while it was definitely imperfect, and very weird, this dance was real, it was alive.  And she felt her stomach churn with envy.

“Would you like to dance?” Chakotay asked.

“I can’t move,” she said, but her protest died in her throat as the ice holding her in place melted around her.

He took her to the floor and she danced painfully on her toes, spinning around him, beside him, but never close enough to really touch him.  His hands encircled her waist and he lifted her, and suddenly she wasn’t just dancing, she was flying, and for a few precious, stolen seconds the world slowed down and revolved around only them.  Finally, he lowered her to the floor, his hands still at her waist.  She looked up at him, and slowly untied the kerchief bandage.  She gently touched his broken jaw.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Then, standing on her toes, she kissed his jaw, and his face healed before her eyes.  He smiled at her, and leaned closer, and she forgot to breathe.  But instead of kissing her, his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered.

“It’s time to wake up, Kathryn.”

She didn’t want the moment to end.

“No,” she pleaded, burying her face in his chest.  “Please.  Not yet.”

“Kathryn,” he said, the words reverberating in her ear, twisting, changing.  “Kathryn.  Captain.  Captain?  Captain!”

She opened her eyes and realized she was not snuggling against Chakotay, but the Doctor.  She jerked away, confused, then slowly, she realized where she was.  The room was dark, bare, and crossed with many orange and black lines.  She was back in the Holodeck. 

The spell was broken.