Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

John Crichton was getting rather confused. Granted, that seemed to be his normal state of late, stranded in the Uncharted Territories, quite literally a ‘stranger in a strange land’; but this was different. It had nothing to do with what he didn’t understand about this part of the galaxy (and there was a lot of that). Rather, he was growing confused at the behaviour of his new friends.

It started when he went into the mess hall for breakfast. Rygel was there, stuffing his face (as usual). When John gave him a look, the Hynerian just rattled off how he was making sure he got his fair share. John just shook his head.

Then it got really weird. Instead of complaining how the conditions on Moya were far different from what he’d been accustomed to as Dominar on Hyneria as he was wont to do; Rygel started talking about some national Hynerian holiday. This was not some piddling little holiday, oh no. It was a grand affair that lasted for several days, with feasting, and singing, and dancing, and other festivities. It was in honour of some ancestor or another of Rygel’s, the human did not quite catch who in all the details of the actual bacchanalia itself.

“I don’t suppose you have anything as grand as that on your world, do you Crichton?”

“No, nothing quite like that,” John admitted. “But then again, Earth doesn’t have a unified world government or a single monarch who rules over the entire world.”

The idea of this lack of unity was foreign to Dominar Rygel XVI. “But how does your planet function without squabbles?”

“Not very well. But humans don’t seem to like the idea of a single leader domineering over everybody. We prefer our personal freedoms.”

“Lunacy,” Rygel shook his head. “Don’t you have any holidays on your Earth?”

“Nothing as grand as what you described,” John replied modestly. “Actually, given that there are so many cultures on Earth, it’s hard to find a single holiday that encompasses all or even a majority of them. Except maybe Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Rygel perked up, he’d thought he had raised Crichton’s suspicions when he mentioned holidays outright, but the human obviously had not noticed the prodding. “Is Christmas a grand holiday?”

“It can be. Depends on who’s doing the celebrating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Christmas began as a religious holiday, but it’s grown over the centuries. It’s celebrated on the same date every year, but different people celebrate it in different ways. Some have big parties; some just have family and close friends over…” John trailed off, his focus disappearing into thoughts of Christmas past. He was quite oblivious of his companion’s presence… until Rygel stuck a fork into his hand. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Now that I have your attention again,” Rygel began.

But John’s attention had wandered again, and absently he stood and left; ignoring the peeved Rygel. The Hynerian stared after him in disbelief. “How rude.” Shrugging, he went back to his eating.

John wandered through Moya, absently humming to himself. The conversation with Rygel brought his mind back on the topic that he would rather not think about. Christmas. He had been counting the days since he was lost in the Uncharted Territories, knowing that his father and DK must have been frantic when he was sucked down that wormhole. They had no way of knowing what happened to him. It had been months now since that fateful event, and if there had been the same passage of time on Earth (and from what he knew of physics, this was by no means certain) it must be nearly Christmas.

Christmas was a time when his family always got together, no matter how high the tensions had gotten in the previous year. The house would be decorated, a new tree would be brought home; Dad would get out all the old decorations that he and Olivia made in pre-school and gush all over them. There would be egg nog on the table, and presents under the tree… It practically broke John’s heart that he was not going to be there that year, and he knew that his father and Olivia and DK and all his family and friends would be grieving for him.

John shook his head. He was not going to get maudlin over this. There was not much he could do about his situation, but he was going to do the best he could. He set off again, this time singing softly to himself. “Christmas Eve will find me, where the low lights gleam. I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.”

He had just made it back to his quarters and had tumbled onto his bed when he head Zhaan’s voice. “Do you have a moment to talk, John?”

The astronaut sighed. “Can it wait until later, Zhaan? I was just going to get some shut-eye.”

Zhaan just gave him a funny look through the doors. “Please, it will only take a few moments.”

John sighed again. “Come in.” He waited until she had sat on his bed. “What’s on your mind?”

“That’s just what I was going to ask you. You seem somewhat moody of late.”

“You mean, more than usual?” the human joked. It fell flat, so he relented. “Sorry. No, I’m fine. It’s just gettin’ to me, you know? I guess it’s just hitting me how long I’ve been gone, and that I’m not likely to get back home in a hurry.”

The Delvian smiled. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I wonder how long it will be before I get to see my home again. But there are ways to get through the melancholy.”

“Like what? And don’t tell me meditation ‘cos I don’t have the patience for that.”

“Yes you do, if you gave yourself the chance. But though meditation is good, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“What then?”

“What I find often helps is memories.”

John looked sceptical. “Memories?”

“Yes, remembering good things from home. Family, friends, and all the good times we had. Special times, things we did, places we went. Do you know what I mean?”

He chuckled. “Yeah I do, and the fact is that’s what I’ve been doing lately. But…”

“It’s not helping?”

“No it helps… to a degree. But it’s also making me remember just what I’m missing, you know what I mean?”

Zhaan nodded. “I remember once, after I became a Pa’u, I wanted to go back to Delvia and enter the temple for the annual blessing. It’s supposed to be…” she trailed off, temporarily lost in thought.

John smiled when she turned her attention back on him and apologised. “Don’t worry about it; it’s easy enough to do. In fact, I’ve been doing that a lot lately, thinking about Dad and Christmas…” it was his turn to trail off.

Zhaan paused a moment, not wanting to seem too eager and put the astronaut off. “And what is Christmas? Is it important?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a little holiday we have back on Earth. Well, not so little,” he amended. “It tends to be a big thing. You’d appreciate it, it has its roots in religion; but it’s strayed from that in the years since.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, some people take the religious significance seriously, but others just go for the whole commercial aspect of it—presents and decorations and parties.” He shook his head. “Christmas means different things to different people.”

John could tell from the look on her face that he’d managed to confuse her, and though he really did not feel like talking about Christmas again that day, he found himself compelled to explain things to her. The history of Christmas—Christ’s birth, the angels, the wise men, Herod; all of it. Then he went into the legend of St Nicholas and Santa Claus; which led to the commercial aspects of the holiday—presents, decorations and what-not. And finally, although she did not ask, he told her what Christmas meant to him and his family, regaling her with all the family traditions and even some somewhat embarrassing stories. If Zhaan was tired or bored of this monologue she did not show it.

“Cathartic, isn’t it,” she said when he finally stopped talking.

“I’m sorry, Zhaan. I didn’t mean to go on for so long.”

“It’s quite all right, John. You obviously needed to talk, and I was glad to listen. But now, I think I shall leave you to get some rest.” She quietly slipped from her seat on his bed and was gone.

“This is useless!” D’Argo stormed as he strode onto the command deck. “I talked to Crichton about Luxan holidays, but I wasn’t able to get anything useful about Christmas.”

“Luxan holidays?” Rygel snorted. “You Luxans are too barbaric for anything civilised as holidays.”

D’Argo grabbed the Hynerian’s eyebrow and gave it a good twist. “I told him about our harvest festivals, but he said he had nothing like it back on his home planet.”

“I’m not surprised. From what John’s told us, Earth doesn’t have large agricultural settlements,” Zhaan said to forestall an argument.

“But he knows about farming.” D’Argo protested.

“Yes, but a lot of his world is urbanised. There wouldn’t be harvest festivals.”

“Well, I hope you had better luck,” the Luxan grumbled.

“Not really,” Rygel responded. “I got him talking about Christmas, but he just said that different people celebrated it in different ways. Some had big parties, some just got together with family.” He snorted again. “A lot of help.”

“Zhaan?”

“I, on the other hand, was quite successful. Unfortunately, while I now know a lot about Christmas, the knowledge is not all that useful. Most of the traditions are Earth-based and would be difficult to try and duplicate even by John here in the Uncharted Territories. There are two things we can do, though—the gift giving and the feast.”

“We don’t exactly have the resources for either,” D’Argo pointed out.

“Well no, but it’s the thought that counts in regards to the gifts. They don’t have to be much,” Zhaan replied. “As for the feast, the main reason for that was to get together and have a good time.”

“Amen to that,” came from the doorway. They turned to find John standing there, with Aeryn behind him, looking a little sheepish.

Having no holiday stories she could exchange with John, Aeryn had no idea how she could help (and she was not going to analyse why she wanted to help). Zhaan told her to keep John busy so that he wouldn’t interrupt them mid conversation. This was easy enough to do; she just offered to help him make some adjustments to his module.

The problem began when John decided that he left something he needed in his quarters. She did not see any harm in him going to get it, but she made sure she went with him. But then he said that he needed to check something on the command deck, and headed there accordingly. Nothing Aeryn said convinced him he did not need to go there, and she followed him, protesting lamely. The result was that John walked in just as Zhaan finished talking.

“Amen to that.”

It was the first time that either Aeryn or John had really seen Zhaan flustered. “John, we didn’t…”

“Guys, it’s okay,” John said. “Now I know why everybody suddenly needed to talk about holidays.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Rygel stated, as if needing to clarify in case blame was going to be assigned.

“I kinda figured that, Sparky. And Zhaan’s right; the main reason for a Christmas feast is to get together and have a good time. We can do that, right here, right now.”

“You’re not angry with us, John?” D’Argo asked.

“No. in fact, all this talking about holidays made me realise something. Reminiscing is all well and good, but if you don’t find reasons to celebrate here and now, then it’s not going to mean squat. We’re here, we’re healthy, and we haven’t seen any Peacekeepers on out ass for a while. I say we celebrate while we can.”

“Good idea, John. Why don’t we go down to the mess and see what we can whip up?”

The meal was successful. Even Rygel, who usually complained the most, did not have much that he could turn is nose up at (figuratively speaking). They had a good time talking in turn about happy and amusing memories, and even Aeryn had something to add.

D’Argo asked John what traditionally happened at Christmas feasts, and the human mentioned carol sing-a-longs—which led to a sing-a-long of sorts where each person sang a song from their culture. John sang ‘White Christmas’, with an aside note that Christmases in Florida tended not to be all that white. Zhaan sang a beautiful Delvian Pa’u song which was well received, even by Rygel, which was not the case with D’Argo’s Luxan hymn. Aeryn’s contribution was a song she picked up in a bar somewhere which tended to get bawdy at times—although nothing compared to Rygel’s contribution. And so the meal ended on a happy note.

Later, John found Aeryn on the observation deck. “Hi, what are you thinking about?”

She was silent for a long moment. “I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t approach you with a holiday story to get you to talk about Christmas.”

He shook his head. “Not really. I just figured that you had none to tell me. Besides, you did your part trying to keep me out of Command. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing. Why do you think I wanted to go up there so bad?”

She smiled, but did not respond. Eventually John sat down next to her. “One day,” he said, “I’d like to show you a good, old-fashioned Crichton Christmas with all the trimmings.”

“Why?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’d be fun. Give you something to look forward to on Earth. There’ll be a big tree with lots of presents, and tinsel, and goodies, and mistletoe…”

Aeryn was about to cut in with her usual response to the suggestion of her going to Earth when the smile on John’s face as he mentioned ‘mistletoe’ put her on edge. “Wait, what’s mistletoe?”

“It’s just a plant that blooms around Christmas time. You hang sprigs of it up on the ceilings and over doorways.”

“Why? I mean, is it for decoration?”

“Partly, but there’s another reason. Traditionally, anyone who is caught standing under mistletoe is supposed to get a kiss.”

“Oh, so that’s it. Just another ‘tradition’ to support your rutting instincts. Well Crichton, if I ever do go to this Earth, you will never get me under this mistletoe. So get that idea out of your head right now.”

“Whatever you say, Aeryn.”

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