close up of christmas decoration hanging on tree
Photo by Gary Spears on

It was silly to care, I knew that.

Spock didn’t. It was just another day to him. Probably always had been. And he only indulged his illogical mate over the years.

I got it. I did.

But still, I stood looking out the window of our house on New Vulcan. For what? I didn’t know. Normally, we might have been in Riverside this time of year, but because of Spock’s ambassadorial duties, this year we were on New Vulcan.

Except that Spock had been called away and here I was alone.

Waiting for my husband to come home.

How pathetic.

I turned away from the window with a sigh and looked out over our house. I’d put up a small tree. Even decorated it. By myself. I felt more than a little foolish to have bothered.

“Computer stop Christmas music playlist.”

The strains of holiday music abruptly ceased. I eyed my gingerbread flavored tea dispassionately and picked up the cup and poured it out into the sink.

“Time to grow up, Jim,” I told myself out loud.

I was never going to be able to recreate happy holiday times that just never existed.

The first year Spock and I had been a couple, I had mentioned Christmas.

His face had gone quite blank.

“Didn’t you ever, I don’t know, celebrate some kind of holiday with Uhura?” And it had been hard to even say that, because I was still a little sensitive about the whole Spock and Uhura were a couple for so long crap.

“Nyota respected my Vulcan cultural differences.”

I had shrunk back then from the embrace we’d been in, feeling as though I had been slapped. I turned away, desperate to hide the hurt I was certain showed.

“Jim, that is not what I meant. That came out wrong,” Spock insisted.

“Sure. I have to get back to the bridge.”


And it had been better later. We’d had a small celebration, which I had been expanding on or at least trying to maintain ever since.

Now, back in the present, I sighed with regret and figured I might as well just take everything down and put it away. For good this time. It seemed ridiculous now that I’d brought everything with me to New Vulcan.

A week ago when Sarek had stopped by to see if I needed anything while Spock was away, I’d seen the barest hint of disapproval in his eyes at my Christmas decorations. He hid it well, but I’d seen it.

Sometimes I felt as though I had been the one doing all the compromising. I knew that wasn’t fair, I did. But I was sad and lonely and depressed at that moment and all I could see was everything negative.

I grabbed a plastic box and took it over to the tree to begin to remove the ornaments. The first one I removed was a tiny little replica of Vulcan Prime. I’d found it in a little Alpine Christmas shop on Earth in Germany. I’d been kind of thrilled at the time at my find but of course when I’d shown my purchase to Spock he’d made some dismissive comment about how a tiny little ornament could never really represent his planet.

I should have thrown it away then, I thought, as I took it down and put it in the box.

Nyota respected my Vulcan cultural differences.

“Yeah, well fuck you,” I said out loud. “And her too. I’m not fucking Nyota.”

“For which I am grateful.”

I dropped the ornament I held, a squirrel holding an acorn, and turned in shock to see my husband standing just inside our house, wearing a black cloak and a turtle neck sweater in a blue that matched my eyes. I know, he’d told me he’d picked it out for that very reason.


He inclined his head. “What are you doing, ashayam?”

“Uh.” I set the box down and hurried over to him. “Never mind that. You’re home!” I threw my arms around him and he pulled me close, nosing into my hair by my ear. A thrill shot through me. “I thought you weren’t going to be back until next month.”

“I was able to finish earlier than anticipated,” Spock said, his arms holding my very close indeed. “I thought my presence would be welcome for your holiday celebration.”

“It is. Very much so.” I pulled back to kiss him full on the lips.

Spock grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the tree. “What are you doing?” he asked again.

I swallowed heavily. “Well. I, um. I was putting it all away.”

Spock looked down into the box and reached down to pull out the replica of Vulcan Prime. His gaze rose to mine. And I couldn’t hold it. I looked away, not wanting him to read me just then.

“Jim,” he said softly. “We can celebrate Christmas every day if that is what you wish.”

I laughed and turned red. “That’s not what I want. It’s not very special if it’s every day.”

His fingers touched my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “I love you. Beyond all ordinary meaning of such simple words. I would give up all and anything to make you happy.”

My tears pricked and stung my eyes. “I don’t want you to give up who you are or anything else. I just—”

“I know.” Spock drew me close again, still holding the ornament at the same time. “I made it back here today to be with you, as I knew you would want. I know you, ashayam. Better than I know myself at times. I never want you to change. You are my beautiful mate.”

“Spock,” I whispered into his neck.

He reached past me to put the ornament back on the tree. “Come. Let’s have some of that gingerbread tea you love so much.”

I smiled. “Yeah?”

“Indeed. And perhaps we can even replicate cookies.”

“Now you’re talking!” I laughed and pulled him toward the kitchen. And my heart was light. Spock was home.