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This was not how she’d planned to spend their first Christmas together.
Chakotay was finally home. They were finally, slowly, figuring out how to build something together. They'd both been granted two weeks leave. She'd planned to take him to Indiana for a family holiday full of fireplaces and twinkling lights and cozy, happy memories. They’d earned it, after all.
On December 22nd she’d stayed late to finish her work and close down her office. Her San Francisco apartment was functional, but still a bit drab, and she was grateful she’d be spending her holiday at the idyllically decorated Janeway homestead.
“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” she’d told him sleepily when she’d called to tell him good night.
“It technically is tomorrow,” he said, with a fond smile. “Go to bed. I’ll bring you coffee and pastries from Night Owl for breakfast”
“Merry Christmas to me,” she said, and it felt true.
She’d been asleep for only about 3 hours when an emergency call from Starfleet Command splintered the quiet of her bedroom. A new Reman rebellion had attacked a dozen targets, both Romulan and Federation, along the neutral zone.
She didn’t even have time to call her family or Chakotay – her assistant had to do it. As she fielded hundreds of comms and read volumes of tactical data and conferred with multiple admirals and comforted shattered colony leadership and... and...
Twelve hours later she realized she was drinking her favorite dark roast, instead of standard headquarters dreck, and there was a turkey cranberry sandwich at her elbow. Taking a bite and chewing quickly she thanked her assistant.
“I’d like to take credit, ma’am,” the young lieutenant said. “But it’s from Captain Chakotay.”
She must be getting old, because she felt her throat tighten at the thoughtfulness and the nostalgia of it – calling back to the times on their Voyager when he’d looked out for her in a crisis.
“Is he here?” she asked, knowing she didn’t have time for even the briefest visit and yet half hoping he’d come anyway.
“No ma’am,” her assistant said. “He said he didn’t want to be a distraction.”
Bless the man and his amazing heart.
At 10:08 pm on Christmas Eve the crisis had settled down just enough that her staff threatened to mutiny if she didn’t go home for a few hours of sleep. As she walked from the transporter hub to her apartment building, fatigue made her legs feel like concrete and the Christmas decorations lighting other windows made her wish she stayed and slept at her office. Her dark apartment was not going to be much of a welcome, and she felt tears spring to her eyes as she realized it was too late to even contact Chakotay or her family to apologize for her failure, yet again, to be with them for an important holiday.
But when she reached her apartment she blinked tiredly – had she gotten off the elevator on the wrong floor?
There was a wreath on her door. A real one, that smelled like pine, and had a giant red bow.
Blearily she rechecked the number – no, this was her place.
Confused, but pleased, she entered her security code. As the door opened, the room that met her eyes was pure Christmas – there were lights and evergreen garland everywhere, a tree with shiny gold and silver ornaments, and the place even smelled like cinnamon.
Sitting on her couch in the middle of it all, was Chakotay. He climbed to his feet, setting aside the book he’d been reading, and came toward her. “Merry Christmas.”
She was struck speechless. This was so miraculous, but she was so tired, and as he pulled her into his arms, she felt herself shaking slightly. “This is beautiful,” she whispered. “But I’m so sorry, I’m just home for a few hours to grab some sleep and a new uniform, and...”
He pulled back, and kissed her gently, stopping the flow of her words. “It’s all right,” he said, his hands threading into her hair. “I just wanted...” he gestured toward the tree. “I just wanted you to have Christmas, even if it could only be for five minutes.”
She tilted her head to the side and stared up at his dear face, tears flowing freely now. “You are the most wonderful man.”
He grinned and then pulled her back against him, kissing the top of her head. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted. “That sandwich was amazing, by the way, but that was a long time ago.”
“Sit,” he said, motioning her to the couch.
Collapsing, she tilted her head back and realized there was music, a soft version of an old carol playing in the background. In moments he was back, handing her a plate full of delicious things. The best of which was a slice of some kind of cinnamon pumpkin bread that was pure holiday joy against her tastebuds.
“Did you make all this?” she said, marveling at the sheer variety.
He laughed. “I’m not quite that good – just the bread. I admit to replicating the rest of it.”
“Well, it’s divine,” she said, taking another bite.
He chuckled. “That might be because you haven’t eaten for hours.”
“Maybe,” she said, but as she licked the crumbs from her thumb she added, “but I doubt it.”
He took the empty plate from her and set it on the coffee table. Then pulled her back to settle against him on the couch. He was so warm and she felt her head sink to his chest. Her eyes were drifting shut, and she had just enough energy to murmur, “I love you.”
“Merry Christmas to me,” she heard him whisper against her hair as sleep overcame her.
If it had been a holiday holonovel, they’d have arisen the next morning after a long winter’s nap to find that the Remans and Romulans had made peace. They’d have gone to Indiana and spent the day walking in a winter wonderland and sipping hot chocolate.
But it wasn’t a perfect world – so they woke up on the couch at 5 am to yet another emergency comm from Starfleet.
All he could do was send her out the door with another great cup of coffee and a loaf of pumpkin bread to share with her staff.
All she could do was kiss him fiercely and whisper her gratitude against his neck as she headed back into the cold.
It was days before they even had time to exchange gifts, and after New Years before they made it out to see her family.
And yet...
No holiday in her life had ever made her feel more loved than that particular five minutes of Christmas.