Title: The Night Before Christmas
Author: SaRa
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Paramount is Scrooge! That is, the owners of Star Trek: Voyager. Author's note: A short story, written in a little over an hour. I wanted to wish my friends a happy holiday, and this seemed better than any ecard or short message. I'd love feedback, since it is Christmas Eve. I know I stole the title (among other things) from Clement C. Moore's poem, but it seemed to fit perfectly. I didn't think Mr. Moore would mind, though, since his poem must've been used many different ways in its 179 years of existence. Enjoy, and a very merry Christmas to you and yours, even if you don't celebrate it. :o)

Kathryn laid on a plush rose cloud, watching as rainbow colored stars twinkled in an evergreen nebula. When she squinted, the stars went nova, their light becoming very intense for a fleeting moment before vanishing altogether.

A mechanical clang reminded Kathryn that she was neither in the upper atmosphere of a planter nor in the cold vacuum of space. Instead, she was in the cozy living room of her childhood home, staring up into the branches of a sweet smelling Christmas tree. Well, a holographic projection of her childhood home, but it was good enough.

She heard the clang again, followed by footsteps, alerting her to the approach of someone. Maybe if I ignore them, whoever it is will leave me alone, she thought, as she tried to sink into her turtleneck sweater.

However, this plan didn't work nearly as well for the captain of Voyager as it would for a possum. She looked up to see the only person with enough courage and few enough brains to interrupt her off duty time: Chakotay.

"Kathryn, I'm here to remind you that its Christmas Eve and you had damn well better be ready for Neelix's party in an hour. If you're not ready, Tuvok has authorized me to drag you to the party in whatever state of dress or undress you are in at twenty-hundred hours," Chakotay said, not once looking up from the padd he held.

He did look up when the hard panel of the archway suddenly turned into soft carpeting, nearly causing him to fall on his face. When he looked up, he saw a tree decorated with antique lights and ornaments, an overstuffed sage colored sofa, and an ivory leather chair. The tree was full and beautiful, with an angel that looked like it had seen better days perched nonetheless majestically on top. One thing was missing from this Christmas scene, though, and that one thing was Kathryn.

A quick glance around the room did nothing to affirm what his sixth sense had already told him and he wondered exactly what he would say to the Doctor about this. "Doc, my Kathryn radar is out of whack, do you think you could fix it?" Oh, yes, he could just imagine how well that would go, especially if Tom Paris was there. It would certainly cause the pilot to make a few comments about a certain part of his anatomy and quite possibly tempt him to throttle the young man.

"Kathryn?" Chakotay called softly, not wanting to wake her if she was, by some miracle, sleeping. Of course, if that were the case, he would definitely being making a trip to sick bay, but to have Kathryn checked out and not himself.

"Under here," she said.

Chakotay's eyes scanned the room for a second time, but this time they saw legs sticking out from under the tree. He sighed. "Kathryn, the angel goes on top of the tree," he said, smiling.

"Angel? I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," she responded.

Chakotay paused for a moment, not having an immediate response to that. "You mean those pictures of you in the ship's database aren't edits? Feel free to come to Neelix's party dressed like that, or at least with that underneath your dress."

"Oh, God, I though I'd burned those," she moaned, playing along.

"The pictures, panties, or corset?"

"All of the above. Now, shut up and come down here," she said.

Chakotay dropped to the floor and scooted under the tree. Kathryn edged closer and rested her head on his chest. "I miss this," she murmured, suddenly too relaxed to even speak. "Looking at the tree like this, I mean. It's been four years, Chakotay, and we've still got decades to go. By the time we get home, I'll be too old to do this. Of course, you'll be even older, so that makes me feel a little better."

"I could stay like this all night," he said, pulling her even closer.

"Let's. To hell with command and with curtesy. Let's play hooky from all of our responsibilities tonight and stay here, Chakotay. We're going to be horrible, selfish, irresponsible, spoiled children. Tonight, it's all about us." She was about to continue, but a yawn pushed passed the words she was about to say and escaped her mouth first. "Sorry," she giggled, and then yawned again.

He started to smooth her hair, but stopped halfway through the motion and picked something from it. He didn't have to look to know her forehead was wrinkled questioningly. "You've got pine needles in your hair," he explained.

She made a noise somewhere between an, "Oh," and a contented sigh.

"Go to sleep, love," Chakotay said.

"Tell me a story," she muttered, curling close to him, as she'd been doing each night for almost a year.

"'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads." Chakotay's hand drifted to her not yet swollen belly and rested there, as he continued to quote Moore's The Night Before Christmas.

"And mamma in her 'kerchief and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap... When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and through up the sash." Chakotay stopped, realizing that her breathing had become even and she wasn't moving so much as a centimeter.

He smiled affectionately at the sleeping woman he'd come to call his angel. He wrapped his arms around her possessively and buried his face in her hair. As he dozed off, he unconsciously recited the end of the poem. "But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!'"

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