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2365
A mug of hot chocolate warms her palms as Deanna curls up on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. When her door buzzes, she already knows who’s on the other side. If it were anyone else, she would say she wants to be alone, but instead she calls for him to come in.
“Hey, there.” Will raises his eyebrows in question, and when she nods, sits down beside her. “You didn’t stay at the party very long.”
Deanna shrugs, staring down into her mug where the marshmallows are beginning to melt. “I guess I wasn’t in as festive of a mood as I thought.”
“You can tell me the truth,” Will says solemnly. “…It was my trombone playing that scared you off, wasn’t it? I knew I should’ve had one more practice session.”
The self-deprecating joke has the desired effect, and Deanna laughs, looking up to meet his grin with a small but sincere smile of her own. “You caught me.”
“I can always count on you for an honest assessment of my musical skills,” he teases, then places a hand on her knee encouragingly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
The lighthearted atmosphere evaporates, leaving only her earlier melancholy. “This afternoon, when I was helping with the holiday activities in the children’s center, I…I started thinking about Ian.” Though it’s been half a year now, saying his name still hurts, a private pain she keeps hidden from everyone except Will. “I think he would’ve liked Christmas, liked learning all about different holidays, don’t you?”
“Deanna,” he murmurs, and she senses the sadness that comes over him, mostly on her behalf, though not entirely, a sense of loss all his own, and she loves him for it.
It was in this room she lost Ian, though this window that he left, and she stares out of it now, at the stars warping by, and wonders where he is and what he’s doing, if he sometimes thinks of her, misses her the way she misses him. “I always knew he wouldn’t be mine for very long. I just thought I’d have a little more time. Time to teach him about Earth and Betazed, time to make some more memories.” To be a family, she thinks, but doesn’t say, though the agonized look on Will’s face tells her he heard it anyway.
Taking the cup from her hands, he sets it on the coffee table, then gathers her into his arms. She isn’t crying, not really, but there’s a stinging sensation behind her eyes and a lump in her throat and she presses her face against Will’s shoulder, absorbing the comfort only he can provide.
“Ian was yours. Even if it was only for a few days. He was yours.” His emotions are tangled, a mix of sympathy and trepidation and something that might be hope. The words are quiet, spoken into her hair. “You’ll have another chance to share those traditions, Imzadi, I’m sure of it. Not with Ian, but someday…”
She can hear, feel, his unspoken wish, and sends a pulse of understanding into his mind, letting him know they wish for the same thing. “Someday.”
2387
Empty mugs sit on the coffee table and Christmas music plays quietly, an instrumental rendition of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas filling their quarters, the four of them cuddled up together on the couch.
The book held out so both children can see, Deanna turns the page, reading the final line with dramatic flourish, the way her father had when she was little. “…Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”
“One more time, please?” Thad, sitting between herself and Will, draws out the last word, his wide, dark eyes darting back and forth between them hopefully.
“More!” Kestra echoes, always happy to go along with her big brother’s plans.
Looks like we have a small mutiny on our hands, Captain, she sends.
Will’s laughter fills her mind. What do you say, Commander? Do we give in to their demands?
Kestra is only half-awake on Deanna’s lap, and even Thad, despite his determination to stay up as long as possible, is yawning and leaning his head on Will’s arm. From experience, she knows they’ll both be out before the end of the story.
“Okay, one more time,” she says, passing the book over to Will. “But it’s daddy’s turn to read it.”
“Gladly.” Will accepts the small, hardcover book, one of the few belongings Deanna has of her father’s, passed on to her by her mother when Thad was born. He ruffles Thad’s hair. “And then it’s off to bed. Remember, Santa won’t come until you’re asleep.”
“I know.” Thad bites his bottom lip. “You’re sure Santa can find us all the way out here in the Beta Quadrant?”
At six years old, Thad is intelligent and inquisitive, and Deanna knows they probably only have a few more years until he figures out the truth. For her, the magic of the holiday had ended abruptly at age seven with the loss of her father, and Will’s father—on the off chance he was even home for Christmas—never gave him the chance to believe in Santa, not one to let anyone else take credit, not even for his child’s sake. And so, from their very first Christmas as parents, she and Will decided things would be different for their family.
Will, sensing the direction of her thoughts, gives her loving smile, tenderness pouring through their bond, before he turns back to their son. “Santa’s never let you down before, has he? He can find us anywhere in the galaxy, I promise.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Apparently satisfied by the explanation, Thad settles back against Will. “You can read the story now, dad.”
Will clears his throat and begins the poem over again. “’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…”
Kestra falls asleep almost instantly, tiny fist gripping Deanna’s shirt, and even Thad can barely keep his eyes open. Lulled by Will’s deep voice, the low music, and the soft light of the Christmas tree across the room, Deanna finds herself growing drowsy as well, her mind relaxed and her heart content.
When Will reaches the end, he sets the book beside the empty mugs, smiling down at Thad who is fast asleep. “We better get them to bed. We have presents to put out, stockings to fill, and cookies to eat.”
Deanna chuckles, glancing over at the kitchen table where a plate of cookies, a glass of milk and—at Thad’s insistence—a pile of carrots for the reindeer are waiting.
They really should get done and go to bed themselves; Thad will be waking them up by 0700 at the latest, and Kestra will be right behind him.
Then Kestra snuffles in her sleep, and Deanna brushes a blonde curl out of her eyes, rocks her gently back and forth. “Let’s stay here just a little while longer.”
Draping an arm around the back of the couch, Will gives her shoulder a squeeze and leans over Thad’s head to kiss to her temple. “Sounds good to me.” He flicks his gaze over to the hallway that leads to their bedroom where a sprig of green hangs in the doorway. “So long as I get to kiss you under the mistletoe later.”
“You’d better,” she says playfully, reclining against his arm. Head tilted back, she watches the stars streak by through the curved window, partially distorted by her own reflection and the reflection of the star Will had helped Thad place atop the tree several weeks ago.
A peacefulness settles over her, a combination of Will’s calm, orderly mind and the children’s peaceful dreams. Outside, a star flares, then seems to move toward her, and Deanna wonders for a moment if she’s dozed off, if she’s dreaming, too.
But no, she can feel Will’s confusion mirroring her own and she sits up, watching, stunned, as the ball of light travels through the window and hovers in the air before them. She inhales sharply, the bright white light wavering as her vision blurs with tears.
“Deanna?” Will sounds as dazed as she feels. “Is that…?”
“Ian.”
It’s him; she knows for certain, recognizes him in the way that all Betazoid mothers recognize the minds of their children. Her curious boy who came from the stars and had to leave too soon.
When she holds out her hands, Ian floats into her cupped palms just as he had the day she lost him. She can barely get the words out past the lump in her throat. “How…how did you find me?”
I’ve always remembered you and I think about you often. I wanted to see you again so I searched for the Enterprise but when I finally found it, you were already gone.
A tear slides down her cheek as she recalls another Christmas Eve when she had looked out at the vastness of space and wondered about him, if he was okay. It had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that she would never know, would likely never see him again. “I think about you all the time, Ian. And I’ve missed you, so much.”
Will’s voice is rough with emotion when he adds, “We both have.”
Briefly, Deanna turns to him, brushes up against his mind, letting him feel her gratitude for how much he has always cared for Ian, simply because Ian was hers. Will has always been a wonderful father, long before he truly became one.
“Ian,” she says, “this is Will. Do you remember him?”
Yes. He was there when I was born and when I had to leave. I believe he was there for you.
That he can recall the day of his birth surprises her, though perhaps it shouldn’t. “I didn’t realize you remembered being a baby. Most humanoid species can’t do that.” Just another thing she didn’t get the chance to teach him, she thinks with regret.
I remember it all. It was nice on the Enterprise. Why did you leave? His curiosity burns bright in Deanna’s mind.
Aware that Will is only hearing one side of the conversation, she does her best to keep him in the loop. “Will and I left together because we got married. This ship, the Titan, is his. He’s a captain now.” As ever, she can’t disguise the pride she has in her Imzadi.
What’s ‘married’?
For a moment, Deanna considers how to explain it to a being whose kind doesn’t have such a concept before suddenly recalling the way she’d explained it to Data two decades ago. “Marriage is when you promise to love someone and stay with them forever. To take care of one another.”
A family.
“That’s right,” she says softly. “A family. And you’re still a part of our family, Ian. You always will be.”
Your family got bigger, he observes, and she senses not a hint of sadness or jealousy, only that same childlike wonder.
“It did.” Deanna beams down at the kids in their matching candy-cane striped pajamas, Kestra with her face buried against Deanna’s chest, Thad with one foot on Will’s knee, the other dangling off the edge of the couch. Never did she allow herself to imagine being able to introduce them. “Ian, this is Kestra and Thaddeus.”
“Your siblings,” Will says, and Deanna sends a wave of love through their bond, fresh tears building behind her eyes.
Ian is silent for a moment, and then she senses his delight when he says, Thaddeus looks a lot like I did when I was in my human form.
Deanna can’t help her watery laugh, and when Will looks at her with one eyebrow raised in question, she explains, “Ian noticed the resemblance between himself and Thad.”
Will’s eyes shine with affection as he looks down at their son, mirth evident in his voice. “You’re not wrong, Ian. Deanna’s genetics did most of the heavy lifting with this one.”
She laughs; it’s true. She and Will had noticed from the beginning, though with every passing year, he looks more and more like his father. That adorable, cheeky smile is all Will. And it’s been impossible not to notice the similarities between her sons, something that has brought her both delight and grief simultaneously. Her grief over Ian is old, worn in, like the grief she feels for her father, but every so often it feels all too fresh.
“Ian,” she says, “I really am so very happy to see you again. And you picked quite a special time. Do you see the tree over there?”
It’s beautiful and very bright. I could see it from beyond the ship. What’s the purpose of it?
“It’s a Christmas tree. Tomorrow is Christmas, a holiday celebrated by many people from Earth. There are presents and food, but it’s mostly about spending time with the people you love.” She sighs. “I wanted so badly to teach you all about it, about human and Betazoid traditions. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance.”
For some time after she lost Ian, she’d replayed every moment, wondered if she made a mistake sending him off to school while she worked her usual shift. Wondered if she should’ve taken him to the holodeck instead, crammed a lifetime of experiences into two short days. Will had held her while she cried and second-guessed herself, pressed his lips to her forehead as he assured her that she had been a wonderful mother, had done the best she could, couldn’t have known she’d have to say goodbye so soon.
Will rubs her arm, pulls her closer, and she knows he’s remembering, too.
That’s alright, says Ian, and his emotional signature glows as brightly in her mind as his physical form does in her hands. Because of you, I learned so many other things. What it’s like to be born and to die, how it feels to laugh and cry and to be hungry and tired. The first night, you sang to me and I learned what it was like to be comforted. Loved.
A quiet sob escapes as a piece inside her she didn’t realize was still broken is finally healed.
Ian stays a while longer, she and Will answering all his questions about the holiday, and when the time comes to say goodbye once more, Deanna does so with a light heart full of joy rather than a heart heavy with grief.
I hope to see you all again one day, he says.
“We love you, Ian,” Deanna whispers, she and Will watching together as he departs through the window, drifting further and further away until he becomes indistinguishable from starlight.
Will’s hands cradle her face, thumbs brushing away her tears, his own eyes a bit misty. “Are you okay, Imzadi?”
She looks from the window to him, down to their slumbering children and thinks that this must be the magic of Christmas her father always spoke of. “More than okay.”
“Mom? Dad?” Thad’s voice is thick with sleep, his eyes fluttering open, then closed again. “’S that Santa? Did he bring presents?”
Deanna smiles softly. “Something like that.”