"Fathers Christmas" by Denise Underwood c. 2005 Part Two Triona reached up, standing on her tiptoes, trying to hang the last ornament on just the right branch of the Christmas tree that dominated the great room. As she leaned precariously, she felt Methos' presence and startled, lost her balance, falling towards the heavily decorated tree. Only her husband, pulling her back into his arms, kept her and the tree from ending up together on the floor. Setting her on her feet, Methos plucked the ornament from her grasp and placed it on the tree. "You might try a ladder next time," he scolded, a smile on his lips. "Ladders are for wussies," she sniffed, an answering smile on her lips. Methos shook his head in fond amusement. "Of course they are." He looked at the tree. "It looks wonderful. Lucia will love it." "She'll love the presents underneath the tree much more," Triona replied dryly. "The little empress that she is." "You're only a child once or so I've been told. It can't hurt to indulge the little minx every so often." "Every so often?" Triona shook her head, laughing softly. "I know, we all spoil her terribly." She paused, seemingly fascinated by the tree, staring at it intently. "Methos," she began, only to be forestalled. "I know, I spoke with Lucien." He took her shoulders in a gentle grip and turned her to face him. "Yes, I admit that Picard's impending visit has me somewhat... unsettled. But that's my problem to deal with, not yours. If I had any idea that Lucia would pick up on my unease, I would have been much more careful around her. I would never do anything to purposely hurt our little girl." "I know that, my love." She leaned against his chest, soaking up the warmth that always seemed to radiate from him. "But when she told Lucien that she thought you didn't want to be her daddy anymore, it broke my heart." He sighed noisily. "It didn't do a lot for my heart when Lucien told me what she'd said either." "I'm sorry, Methos. If I'd known that you had reservations about Jean-Luc coming here, I would put the visit off." "No, what I said before is true; this is my problem, not yours, and certainly not Lucia's. It's time she got to know him. She deserves that, and so does he. It's not fair to him to hold him responsible for the problems we've had in the past, or to punish Lucia by denying her this meeting." "Have I told you lately that I love you?" Triona asked, looking up at him, her eyes full of love. "You may have mentioned it recently," Methos replied, in his familiar softly sarcastic way. "I should mention it more often," Triona said softly, her expression suddenly serious. Methos brushed her lips with his. "Even when the words aren't spoken, I *know*." Taking her hand, he drew her over to the window seat that was trimmed in holly and lights. Outside, it had begun to snow. "When Lucia gets back from the Southern Continent, I'll make it right. Cross my heart," he added, grinning. "Until then," he looked up, Triona following his gaze to the mistletoe that hung above them, "I think we should get some Christmas practice in." "Practice makes perfect," Triona agreed as their lips met. @_________@ Three days later, on Christmas Eve, when the shuttle carrying Lucia and her aunts landed, Methos was there to meet it. Lucia was so excited from her trip, she practically rolled down the ramp. He scooped her into his arms, swinging her around. "So, did you bring me a present?" he asked the hyper little girl, kissing the tip of her nose. Lauren and Stephanie, following their niece out of the shuttle at a more sedate pace, chuckled at Methos' question. "You're so silly, Daddy! You're sposed to give me a present!" "No, no, I'm sure the present is from the person who went away," he replied, settling her in his arms as they walked down from the shuttle pad. "Those are the rules, just ask anyone." Lucia rolled her eyes in a near perfect imitation of her mother. "Fine then. If you reach into my coat pocket you might find something there that could possibly be for you, poppet." Lucia wasted no time looking for her present. "Maple sugar candy!" she exclaimed. "It's my most favourite!" She threw her arms around her father's neck, kissing him. "Thank you, Daddy." "You're welcome, sweetling. A shipment just arrived from Earth, so I made sure to keep some for you." Lucia snuggled against his chest. "I'll get you a present next time, Daddy. I promise." Methos chuckled. "Deal." As hyper as she'd been before, now, she was almost asleep in his arms. The rest of the walk to the house was made in near silence, Lauren and Stephanie having transported up to the Moria moon at the shuttle pad. Finally they reached the house, Triona meeting them in the entry. "Is she asleep?" she asked softly. "I think so," he whispered back. "Not 'sleep," Lucia mumbled sleepily. Triona kissed her on the cheek, ruffling her hair. "Maybe not, but you should be. How about a nap, then you can tell us all about your trip at supper?" "And after supper, how would you like to help me with a very special project?" Methos asked. The question perked her up. "Really? Oh yes, Daddy!" "After supper then. Now, let's go take that nap." @_____________@ Lucia's nap had brought her back up to full power, and she was bursting with news of her trip. Her mother had to keep reminding her to eat, not just talk. "And Uncle Robert and Auntie Gina taught me how to waltz! Uncle Robert said all young ladies should know how. And Auntie Gina gave me a green velvet dress with puffy sleeves! Can I wear it on Christmas?" Without pausing for an answer to her question, she kept right on with her story, "And then Uncle Robert took me sailing and let me turn the wheel!" Robert and Gina de Valicourt had an estate on the Southern Continent, and they split their time between Imladris and their home in France. Lucia was very fond of them, and the feeling was mutual. "And Auntie Gina took me riding too. Mummy, can I have a pony? I promise I'd take care of it. It could live in my closet!" Triona, Methos, and LaCroix all did their best not to laugh. "And I could read it bedtime stories so it wouldn't be scared of the dark." "I'm sure you'd take very good care of it, dear. But ponies get lonely if they aren't in the stables with other horses," Triona explained. Lucia nodded, seeming satisfied with that explanation. "We'll talk about you having a pony next year, when you're a bit older." Lucia sighed dramatically. "Why does everything have to be when I'm older?" Triona gave Methos and LaCroix a *look*. "Believe me, you aren't the first person to ask that question." Methos snickered. "Lucia, sometimes you have to accept that those older and wiser than yourself know what is best," LaCroix replied, raising one expressive brow, returning Triona's look. "It's not fair," Lucia protested. Triona chucked her under the chin. "Nope, it isn't. But it's one of those things we all have to put up with at some point in our lives. If it makes you feel better, one day, your children will ask you the same question, and you can explain it to them." That idea seemed to hold some merit for Lucia as she nodded thoughtfully and went back to eating her cherry pie. "Nice one, Mummy," Methos whispered in her ear. "Why thank you, oh ancient and wise one," she grumbled good-naturedly. "You're welcome," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her. They both started to laugh silently, overhearing Lucia's muttered, "Ewww, mushy stuff." "Indeed, Lucia. 'Mushy stuff' is yet another subject that will be explained in more depth when you're older." Hearing LaCroix utter the words 'mushy stuff' sent Methos and Triona into fits of laughter. Lucia just shook her head at her parents' antics and LaCroix looked long suffering. Catching his breath, Methos asked, "So, poppet, are you ready for our special project?" Pie forgotten, Lucia exploded out her chair. "Yes!" "Whoa! Slow down, you'll give yourself a tummy ache!" Triona scolded gently. Lucia sat down again. "Sorry." Triona ruffled her long red hair affectionately. "You are so much like your Auntie Stephanie was at your age. Right down to the sugar addiction. Now, you go with your daddy, and I'll see you later, okay?" "Kay, Mummy." Lucia got up from the table, a little more sedately this time. She gave her mother a kiss, then went around the table to hug her papa. "Ready to go, poppet?" Methos asked, holding out his hand. Nodding, she took his hand, waving at her parents happily as she walked out of the dining room. @__________@ Methos picked Lucia up and placed her on a stool so she could reach the counter. "Now, this is a very special project," he told her seriously. "We are going to bake some very special magical cookies for Santa." "Magic?" she repeated, eyes wide. "Magic." "The cookies are going to have these," he held up a bag of candy canes, "in them. And they're not ordinary candy canes, they're straight from the North Pole on Earth, made by Santa's elves." "Really?" She looked up at him in awe. "Mmm-hmm, really," he replied. "And with them in the cookies, it will allow us to see Santa when he comes down the chimney tonight." "But Daddy, you can't cook. Mummy always says so." Lifting her up he sat her on the edge of the counter. "What your mother doesn't understand is that there's boring old food, like turnips and cauliflower, and liver." "Yuck!" Lucia scrunched up her face. "Exactly, yuck!" He looked around, then said to her conspiratorially, "And then there's exciting food, like cookies, candy...." "And cake!" she interjected excitedly. "And cake," he agreed. "Man, and little girl, can not live by chicken and potatoes alone," he intoned, making Lucia giggle. Methos started mixing the ingredients that Mrs. Baker had set out earlier. Triona was right, cooking was not his gift, but Lucia would never know that. He placed her back on the stool. "Now, you take these candy canes and smash them with this," he handed her a mallet, "until they're in little tiny pieces." Lucia took to her task with delighted intensity. It wasn't often she had permission to smash things up. After she was done, Methos took the pieces of candy and mixed them into half the cookie dough. To the other half, he added red food dye, Lucia following every step with rapt attention. "Now, you take the red dough, and this spoon," he instructed, "and scoop out the dough by the spoonful and roll it into little balls. Can you do that?" She nodded vigorously. Methos finished his dough up first, and started to help Lucia with her portion. "When we're done, we're going to make each ball into a long strip, then twist the white and red dough together to make candy canes," he explained. "Can I have some? Or do we have to keep them all for Santa?" "A good chef always tastes her creations," he said, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. Lucia happily kept making little red balls of dough. After a few minutes passed in silence, Methos said quietly, "Poppet, you do know I love you very much, don't you?" She stopped rolling her dough and looked up at him gravely. "I know you do, Daddy." She dropped her eyes, and shifted a little. "But I confuse you sometimes, don't I?" he asked gently. "Uh huh." He put his arm around her shoulder. "I know you think your parents know everything and nothing ever confuses us. But sometimes we can be very mixed up, and it can be hard for little girls to understand. I'm very sorry if I've ever done anything to make you think I didn't love you, or didn't want to be your daddy." "I want you to be my daddy always," she whispered. "And I will be, Lucia. Nothing will ever change that. And if you are ever confused by something adults say or do, I want you to promise you'll come to me so I can explain." She looked up at him, eyes full of trust. "Okay, Daddy, I promise." "All of us love you very much. Me, your papa, Mummy, your aunts and uncles, T'rayla. You're surrounded by those who love you so much." She tilted her head to the side, pondering his words. "Even Uncle Jack?" she asked. "Yes," he crinkled his eyes a little at the unexpectedness of her question, "even your Uncle Jack." "I'm glad," she sighed happily. '''Cus I'm going to marry him when I grow up!" "Lord, child, don't give you father a heart attack!" Lucia giggled as Methos put his hand to his chest in mock distress. "You won't be talking to boys till you're at least thirty, maybe forty," he pronounced. "But I'll be old then!" she protested, pouting. "Exactly!" He tweaked her nose. "Now, let's get these cookies finished." **** Ith ~ ithildin@ondragonswing.com ~ Denise House M.D. : http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DrHouse/ Farscape SG1: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/farscapesg1/ Absinthe & Cookies: http://bittersweet.ondragonswing.com