Deck the Halls

Posted on Tue Dec 28th, 2021 @ 3:02am by Captain Jocelyn Blake & Fleet Admiral Sturnack

Mission: Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location: The Fortress, Pinetop, Arizona
Timeline: Mission Day 25 at 0530

[Jocelyn’s Bedroom]
[The Fortress]
[MD: 25, 0530 Hours]

The bedroom that occupied the landing in The Fortress was built into the sloped roof of the place. It was set squarely in the middle of the building so it had the highest clearance, but the sloping created an interesting effect in the ceiling of the room. Jocelyn lay in the large bed, curled up under a warm fluffy downy comforter with more pillows behind her than a single person ever truly needed and didn’t want to get up. Sometime around two or three am, she had awoken on the couch, a warm blanket settled around her shoulders and the fire banked, embers the only remaining thing lighting the room.

Nature was clearly reminding her, though, that even in crises when one was immensely tired, bathroom trips were still a thing. Thus she had roused and softly rolled off the couch, padding her way upstairs to use the bathroom before flopping into the enormous bed still clothed in t-shirt and sweats.

Her internal clock had been what woke her some hours later and she was aware that it was still dark outside–a byproduct of early mornings at Headquarters. Apparently even in the extremely unusual circumstances they were in she wasn’t going to be able to sleep in. She screwed her eyes shut trying to imagine something calming that would send her back to sleep, but images of Berryhill dissolving into nothingness dominated.

Groaning she threw back the comforter, swinging her feet around and finding the lamp next to the bed. In the low light of the lamp the image dispersed and she felt like she could breathe again. No going back to sleep then. Her eyes scanned the room, hands cupping the side of the mattress as she considered what to do with herself.

Finally, she settled on the closet. She hadn’t bothered unpacking anything the night before, but now it seemed as good a thing to do as any. Hopping up, she made her way over, pulling the double accordion doors apart and eying the clothing hung to the right hand side. She was careful not to disturb it as she pulled down some of the hangers. She turned to set them on the dresser next to her, but paused at an odd flash.

Frowning she turned back to the closet searching for the source and finally finding it in a small cut out indicating a crawl space behind the closet. A loose piece of something shiny had been trapped in a lower corner. Curiosity got the better of her and she stooped to inspect it, recognizing the silvery shine of a tinsel garland almost immediately. She pursed her lips, considering for a long moment before long fingers settled into the crawl space cover, pulling it aside.

Jackpot. Four or five old cardboard boxes bore the evidence of Christmas decorations. Carefully she pulled them out, inspecting them quickly before setting them to the side. Sturnack had said to make herself at home, and he wasn’t prone to human sentimentalism. Her mind ran back to the conversation of the day prior and she grinned.

[The Kitchen]
[Concurrent]

Sturnack had completed his meditations and administered his medications before going to sleep for the night. He woke feeling stronger with his mental barriers and in his back, though a nagging urge still struggled at the edges of his brain. It was getting harder to ignore and his ministrations to delay the clock were not as effective as they'd once been. He would have to speak with Doctor Cowell about upping the dose of his medication, though the Doctor was currently not in the office: it was too early as of yet. Knowing it would be a couple of hours yet, the Vulcan chose, instead, to spend his waking time working from the small dining room table set off the alcove that was the kitchen.

Sturnack was setup with his computer terminal and tap-tap-tapped on its various buttons to advance through the messages that had piled up since the previous night. While it'd been time to sleep in Arizona, the rest of the galaxy was still awake, meaning various reports had come in from across the Federation. Marlena must have been working late as most of the messages had been forwarded after 1am San Francisco time. Diligently, the Vulcan worked his way through until the sound of movement upstairs drew his attention. He figured Jocelyn must have awoken; he'd noticed when he came out for the morning that she'd disappeared from the couch. He just wished the woman could have slept longer given everything she'd been through.

Returning to his messages, it was a few minutes later that Jocelyn came down the stairs and rounded the corner, two cardboard boxes full of shiny tinsel and other decorations in-hand. As she set them down on the table -- wearing what appeared to be a satisfied look -- Sturnack arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"What are those?" he asked, gesturing to the boxes. "And where did you find them?" Sturnack wondered.

Jocelyn had enough self awareness to look slightly sheepish at his question, but after the prior day's happenings she was more that determined to inject a bit of cheer into their circumstances. "Admiral McGarry's Christmas decorations," she answered him. "There's apparently a crawl space behind the upstairs closet and a bit of the garland was caught. I..." She faltered for a moment, pressing her lips together as her eyes sparkled. "Could we, maybe, put them up?" Her grin twitched to a half apologetic half hopeful smile.

"I had not realized there was a crawl space," Sturnack admitted. As to the question of putting up the decorations, the Vulcan spent a few moments giving the idea some thought. On one hand, it seemed frivolous and wasteful of their time and energy. On the other, Jocelyn almost looked happy at the prospect of decorating the cabin. Given their current circumstances, Sturnack could understand the need for distraction and some modicum of joy.

"We may," Sturnack nodded then, though his eyes darted to the cabin's backdoor. "However, those are not all of the decorations. I believe the Admiral left a festive tree in the storage shed. I assume you will wish to put that up as well?" he asked, looking as if he already knew the answer. "I understand that Christmas trees are quite necessary to the holiday experience. Logic dictates we should be completist in this undertaking." He hoped that his willingness to go along with decorating would further Jocelyn's good mood. There was just something about the way her eyes were currently lit up at him.

Her smile widened into a full grin, lips twitching up at the corners and cheeks tightening with excitement. "Yes," she breathed, "that would be wonderful."

She set the two boxes she had brought down on the table next to Sturnack's console and whirled. Heading a few steps toward the stairs before looking back over her shoulder. "I'll get the rest... and then we can get the tree?" she asked, her eyes reflecting her excitement. She didn't wait for his reply before rocking up onto her toes and then hurrying back up the stairs.

Thud-thud-thud, went the woman's feet, her excited scramble audible across the upper floor as she went back into the crawl space. Sturnack stared upward, wondering just how much else was up there. When she returned a few moments later with the last of the boxes, the Vulcan eyed the bevy of decorations with interest. "I am unsure what these are," he said, looking into one of the boxes and sorting through some of its contents: there was a long string of glitzy, gold garland and various little figurines and baubles with hooks on them. "They apparently go with the tree, however," he commented, reading "X-mas Tree Decorations" on the side of the box.

Gesturing Jocelyn towards the coat hooks near the main door of the cabin, Sturnack moved to shoulder on his jacket. It was a simple garment made from synthetic fibers in forest green: thin, light, but quite warm. He also donned a pair of gloves that had been sticking out of the pockets of the jacket and a slightly fuzzy hat, which he protectively pulled over the tips of his ears. He looked almost human. "Ready to look through the shed?" he asked Jocelyn.

She chuckled, pulling a near identical coat from the next hook over. This one in a navy color, but also bearing a hat and gloves each a touch too big, but effective all the same. Jocelyn tugged the cap down over her ears as well, running her fingers back between the fabric and her head to shift her long hair behind her. She hadn't yet bothered to put it up and wanted it out of her face. Quick fingers tugged at the zipper and she held out her arms, demonstrating that only her finger tips could be seen. "Ready," she said with a laugh, before following the Vulcan out the door.

"Does snow bother you?" she asked him as they walked, curious. She hadn't been to Vulcan, but knew it was far from cold. She wondered what he thought of snow covered pine-topped hills when warm red dessert conditions were more in keeping with his origins.

"I admit," Sturnack said as he descended a short set of wooden stairs, "that I do not find the cold particularly comfortable. However, I am not as...bothered," he used Jocelyn's term, "as many others of my kind might be. While I have visited Vulcan numerous times over the last several years, I no longer live there," he said, walking around the cabin and towards a shed visible in the back yard. "The deserts and their arid heat are no longer my daily environment. Thus I've adapted to the temperatures of Earth. I believe that this makes it easier for me to acclimate to the cold than for a Vulcan too used to home. Does that make sense?" Sturnack asked, arriving then at the shed in question.

Using an old-style key, the Vulcan opened the padlock holding the double doors closed. Removing and pocketing the lock, he then opened the doors, revealing a storage space roughly 10 feet long by 10 feet wide. With the doors now open, the weak sunlight filtered in, illuminating the shed's interior. There were various pieces of old furniture, many boxes full of who knew what, and -- in the back left corner -- a long, hefty cardboard box with a picture of a glittering Christmas tree plastered on its front.

Jocelyn followed him into the shed, a fresh twist of excitement settling on her lips as she spotted the tree. "That does make sense," she said, distractedly, as she brushed past him, bumping him lightly as she went. She glanced quickly back, apologetic smile on her face, before turning to tilt the box onto its end. Years of use had worn at it and tape held the edges closed, yellowed with age.

"This is perfect," she said, eyes scanning the box before she wrestled it out of the corner. The box now between herself and Sturnack she looked up, tugging off one of her gloves as she did so that she could adjust hair that seemed determined to shift back to the front of her ear. "It's not too heavy," she told him, eyes turning serious, "But I can probably manage it myself if you're not sure. The Doc would have my head if you hurt yourself carrying a box."

It'd been like a spark, the brushing by; a spark coming perilously close to a powder keg Sturnack did not want going off. Momentarily closing his eyes, he drew in a breath of calm placidity and urged his instinctual stirrings back into their slumber. Focusing himself on the words Jocelyn was speaking, the Vulcan eyed the box, assessing the potential risk to his back. The box looked more unwieldily than it did heavy, but that in itself could also be problematic. "Perhaps if we each took one end?" he asked, moving to pick up an end once the woman had nodded assent.

"This should be...doable," Sturnack said, stealing an idiom Marlena often used in the office. "Nevertheless, we should take it slow. Let us proceed," he said, his breath coming in pearly puffs. He then ensured Jocelyn had control of her end before moving backwards out of the storage shed, walking blind back the way he'd come.

Once they had cleared the shed, Sturnack asked Jocelyn to hold the tree for a moment on her own while he closed and re-locked the shed. It was, indeed, awkward for one person to hold but it only took a few moments for the Vulcan to return, resuming the carrying of his end. And then they were off, coming around the side of the cabin and easing the box into the front door. Sturnack indicated they should put the tree on the floor of the living room, where it then sat waiting for further consideration.

"Ok," she said, hands on her hips to survey the space once the jacket, gloves, and hat had been returned to their place and boots kicked off. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and hair a bit mussed, but the excitement of doing something fully distracting and festive had fully taken hold. She paced the room, considering and then turned back to Sturnack with a warm smile, a bit of her excitement leaking into her motions.

"We need to see what is in those boxes," she indicated, pointing to the table. "You unpack everything and I'll work on getting the tree set up?"

Jocelyn was practically bouncing. Both hands, thumbs back, ran beneath her ears and along the back of her neck, gathering her hair into a loose ponytail before releasing it to fall down her back. She really needed to go find a band to put it up, but didn't want to step away from what they were doing. Though she had just said she would begin setting up the tree she moved, instead, to stand next to Sturnack by the table and, in a familiar sort of motion leaned to bumper her shoulder lightly into his. She seemed to realize the infringement of her familiarity a moment too late and her expression shifted to embarrassment.

"Sorry," she murmured, eyes darting to Sturnack and back to the boxes. "I... this is just really nice."

Another bump...another spark, this one closer to the powder keg this time. Did the woman know what she was doing? No, of course not...how could she? Doctor Cowell was the only one who knew of Sturnack's condition: after all, it was the medicines he'd prescribed -- in addition to the diminishing returns of meditation -- that allowed the Vulcan to keep himself in check. But these moments of physical contact were making it increasingly difficult for Sturnack to maintain his semblance of control.

"It...it is alright," the man replied with a nod. "I am glad to hear that you are enjoying this, Jocelyn. While making the cabin festive for the holiday was not what I'd planned for my day," Sturnack arched an eyebrow, "it would seem such is greatly improving our situation. The boxes then," he nodded yet again, turning to survey the boxes Jocelyn had brought down from the crawl space. "I will use the dining table to unpack and sort what we have on hand."

Moving to the table, he first began to unpack the tree decorations box he'd examined earlier. Garland was coiled, ornaments unearthed, and tinsel collected: Sturnack took great care in arranging the ornaments according to size and weight. He then dug into another box -- looking up to momentarily spy Jocelyn wrestling with artificial tree branches -- and found stockings in red and white. One of them was labeled "Johnathan" in big, glittery letters situated amongst the white field topping the stocking. The other three, however, did not have names. He did, however, find glitter pens in several colors.

"Jocelyn," Sturnack looked up again. "Perhaps you could explain the purpose of these?" he asked, holding up the stockings and glitter pens.

Jocelyn looked up from the floor where she sat, legs out to either side with a pile of green pieces laid on either side of her and a long pole which appeared to have sprouted green pieces laid on the floor between her legs. Her hair was down in her face again and she absently pressed it back with a quick swish of her hand before looking up to see what he was holding.

"Stockings!" she exclaimed, unfolding herself from around the tree to climb to her feet. She stood, quickly coming over to the table, but careful to leave some personal space between her and Sturnack. Maybe it was the familiarity of decorating, or maybe it was the circumstance, but she had found herself stealing glances at him while he worked, resisting the urge to come over and watch--to try to take in how he thought. She reached for one of the stockings in his hand, her fingers grazing his quickly. Her cheeks flushed for just a moment and her eyes darted up to his, before looking away and taking the stocking from him.

"Stockings are for presents," she explained, eyes surveying the table rather than meeting his own. "You hang them over the fireplace and then when Santa arrives he fills them with treats. Or..." she paused here to finally look back at him, too curious to still look away, "if you were bad he gives you coal. Really it's just fun treats. Little things. The glitter pens... they're for decorating. You put your name on your stocking."

Sturnack looked back at Jocelyn, his own cheeks rushing and flushing with a greenish tint. Even without his jacket, gloves, and hat -- which had been returned to the hooks by the door -- the Vulcan was beginning to feel particularly warm. So much so -- from just a touch of bare skin against bare skin -- that he had to move to the other side of the table, putting some distance between himself and Jocelyn under the guise of looking through more of the boxes as she spoke.

Explanation finished, Sturnack looked up and nodded. "I see. And since we have established that Santa is an imaginary construct, obviously it is up to parents to fill the stockings instead?" He waved that one of the stockings be returned to him and, taking up a glitter pen in glitzy red -- red like the color of glasses Jocelyn so often wore -- began to draw on the stocking. The pen took some coaxing at first given who-knew-how-long since it'd last been used but, eventually, the viscous glitter glue began to come out. The Vulcan worked the piping with care, writing "Jocelyn" in beautiful cursive atop the white stocking top. The letters were thick enough to easily read the name from across a room.

"Like this?" he asked, gesturing at the now completed stocking. He did not lift it for fear of the glitter glue dripping or smearing but rather left the stocking laying flat on the table.

She hadn't missed how quickly he moved and forced back a frown. She'd made him uncomfortable, she was sure of it, but she wasn't sure in what way. The thought was quickly dismissed, though, as she watched him work, leaning toward him from the other side of the table to find her name on the stocking.

Her face lit with a smile. "Yes," she said with a chuckle. "Exactly like that."

With two quickly raised eyebrows she snagged a green glitter pen. The stocking she chose was green as well with a snowy white top, a complement to the one Sturnack had selected. She shook the pen vigorously then used two fingers to tug some dried glitter glue from the spout before bending over her own stocking. She worked slowly and carefully, her own handwriting far less precise than his, but readable nonetheless. When she was done she turned the stocking around so he could see it. "Now we both have one," she said warmly. "We should let them dry. Look for hooks or something that looks like it might hang from the mantle. We'll need those to secure them.

"Will Santa be leaving us treats?" the Vulcan asked innocuously. Looking down to root through the box some more, Sturnack did, indeed, come up with hooks that were made for securing the stockings to the mantle. The hooks were attached to an apparatus that clutched onto the edge of the mantle's limning concrete shelf.

Though she suspected that Sturnack wasn't expecting an answer, she considered his question anyway. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see, now won't we?" she said with a touch of mischief, an idea starting to form in her head.

"Once the glitter is dry, we will have to hang them. But...what about that one?" Sturnack asked, gesturing to the stocking that had been Admiral McGarry's. "Should it go back into the box?"

Her expression sobered, "No," she said reaching for Admiral McGarry's stocking. "Let's put it up. As a reminder that his friendship to you is what makes it possible for us to shelter here." She picked up the stocking gently, reaching in front of Sturnack to snag one of the hooks and making her way over to the mantle. Blue-green eyes studied it critically before selecting a spot to the right side and affixing the hook carefully. The stocking was hung next and she stood back, crossing her arms over her chest before turning back to look at Sturnack.

He was watching her and for a moment it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. A wavering smile spread across her face and she turned back to the mantle, shattering the effect. "I should get back to the tree," she said, not waiting for a response before resuming her position and diving back into faux greenery.

=/\= Some Festive Fun By =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander in Chief
Starfleet Command

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command