AN: This is part of my "Zaichik" series but it's not necessary to read the others first. Bon apetit!

And the star, which they had seen in the east, went on before them until it came and stood over the place where the Child was. ~Matthew 2:9

The casserole dish was warm in his lap, matching his flushed cheeks.

Beside him, in the driver's seat, a gruff voice asked, "You ready? It's just around this field."

"Da."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"You sure?"

"Nope."

Bones looked worriedly at the twiggy figure in his passenger seat. "It's Christmas, son, not prison."

Silence. The harsh sound of swallowing.

"Pavel?"

Chekov took a few deep breaths. "Sorry. I've just never done…" He flapped his hand. "Done this before. Not on this scale or…in this fancy of a place."

They pulled into a circular drive way. Bones shut off the engine. Navigator and CMO stared up at the colonial style manor.

More like mansion, Pavel thought with another gulp. His grip tightened around the dish. He jumped when a hand squeezed the nape of his neck.

Bones smiled. "I'll be with you the whole time. I'm proud to have you with me. You, of all people, deserve a restful Christmas."

He smoothed a thumb over the bruises around Chekov's collarbone and Pavel closed his eyes. Wordlessly, he soaked in the rough, large paw and careful touch.

"Come on," said Bones. "I've got the gifts."

They climbed the porch and Bones tapped a bronze knocker.

"It's so old," said Pavel. "So beautiful."

"I grew up here." Bones hefted the box of presents. "This estate has been passed down for generations—"

"Oh, my boys!" The door swung open to reveal a squat woman in a glittery apron. Her silver ringlets quivered in time with her raucous laughter.

"Len! How are you?" She took Bone's face in her wrinkly hands and kissed his cheek. "How's our galaxy these days?"

Bones rolled his eyes, returning the hug. "As peaceful as ever, Ma."

Pavel couldn't pick his 'o' of surprise off the floor. He stuttered into a quick bow. "Mrs. McCoy, it eez an honor to—"

"And you must be Pavel!" She tugged him into a warm embrace and pecked his cheek. She smelled of ginger and Vaseline. "I've heard so much about you. And call me Alice, please."

She held him at arm's length. "That won't do. We must get some food into that scarecrow body of yours. Leonard, have you been starving this poor dear?"

"No, Ma," said Bones. "Our flat was always fully stocked."

Alice ushered them inside. "You're the last to arrive. Make yourself at home, Pavel. Everyone's so thrilled you're here."

In the end, it was the doctor's guiding hand on Pavel's back that got him through the door. Chekov gasped at the high ceiling, polished balustrades, and rows of family portraits.

You could fit the whole first floor of our farmhouse in this foyer.

The austere paintings, however, didn't compare to cheery faces that chorused their greetings to Pavel. He realized their excitement was genuine.

There were so many great aunts and uncles and Bones' cousins and children of children that Pavel couldn't keep names straight. They didn't seem to mind. They pumped his hand and winked at him, several younger ones delighted with his accent.

Chekov wondered how much Bones had told them. They were gentle with his ribs and not one raised his or her voice above a chatter.

Luggage was moved up the grand staircase and presents put under a massive fir tree in the living room. The family milled about, some still hugging Pavel and Bones.

Until at last a little girl stood in front of the navigator, staring up at him with wide eyes. She wore a festive red dress stained with peanut butter.

"Uh, hello," said Pavel.

"Wow," said the little girl.

Pavel shifted. He glanced at Bones, but the man was distracted trying to help his mother hang a wreath on the door.

Pavel searched the girl's face. The eyes, up close, were instantly familiar. He'd seen them every day for the last three years.

"J…Joanna?" Pavel guessed.

Her face lit up. "I've never had a brother before! I've never had any siblings. Does Daddy make you pancakes shaped like a unicorn too?"

Pavel laughed. At the sudden sound, Bones' head whipped around the door. He looked like a deer caught in floodlights. Which of course only made Pavel snort harder.

Joanna recovered first. "Dad!"

Bones caught her in time, before she face planted on the entry carpet. "I though you and Mum weren't coming until Christmas Eve."

"We couldn't wait until tomorrow," the girl protested. "That's a whole day away!"

"Unfathomable," said Bones. "How would you have survived a whole day?"

Joanna swatted his arm. "Wanna see my report card? I'm ahead in some subjects—I'm doing grade five math!"

"How I got stuck with you whiz kids, I'll never know," said Bones, mock groaning.

Joanna giggled. Pavel smiled, hands in his pockets. He didn't expect it when Bones turned to him, eyes intensely fond, and mouthed a 'thank you.'

Pavel had no idea what the gratitude was for, but he nodded. He leaned his head back against the wall and felt, for the first time since Grandpapa died, that he didn't have to be vigilant.

"You did well today."

"It vas overwhelming," Chekov admitted. "But in a nice kind of way."

Bones looked up from his suitcase. The boy now stood in pajama sweats and a Beatles T-shirt. Ever since Bones had given it to him as a welcome-to-our-trashy-flat gift, more a joke than solemn token, Pavel hardly took it off.

"Let me show you your room," said Bones.

It was right beside Bones' room, as per his request.

"This is ornate!" Pavel did a slow circle, plopping his bag on the corner table. "Sank you."

Bones put a hand on his hip. "This was my childhood room, if you can believe it. The history of this wing is actually quite interesting. My great-great grandmother…"

A long snore met his ears. Pavel lay on his side. He hadn't even bothered to pull the covers over himself. Bones chuckled. He covered him with the quilts and ruffled the messy curls. Pavel didn't stir, lean face free of tension.

Bones' eyes softened. He pulled a chair beside the bed and let his hand rest in the honey mop.

"You have such an open heart," he whispered. "Bigger than even I realized. You weren't put off by Jo at all. You treated her like royalty and I'm so…" Bones swallowed. "So proud."

His thumb grooved slow circles over Pavel's scalp.

"Joanna is my daughter…"

But Pavel filled something in Bones' heart, his achy spirit, that even Joanna couldn't.

Bones lifted the youth's fringe, unconsciously checking for injury and the goose egg at his hairline that was only just starting to heal.

Pavel whimpered.

"It's alright. You're okay." Bones shook his head. "I'm getting soft."

"See, Ma likes to have her big dinner Christmas Eve so that Christmas day is laid back, informal."

"Makes sense," said Chekov, following Bones out the back door. "Is this vhy she asked us to chop the vood?"

"Ha!" Bones clapped his gloved hands. "You bet. She's kicked everyone out for the morning while she cooks. Jo and her mom won't be back until tomorrow. Something about work."

Chekov, brow furrowed, craned his head back. He opened his mouth and then closed it.

"What?" asked Bones.

"The colonial house, it…it doesn't have a working fireplace."

Bones whistled. "You're observant. And correct—this chimney's been boarded up for over a century."

Chekov eyed the ax Bones had retrieved from the shed. "Then vhy are we chopping wood? No one uses that for fuel anymore."

Surely even in Texas they don't.

Bones confirmed this with a wink. "Who said this wood is for burning?"

Chekov, knowing better than to ask, kept quiet. After the doctor had cut the stripped logs, he handed Pavel a belt sander.

"I cut. You smooth." And he went back to work.

They toiled through the morning, until Chekov's green shirt looked black and sweat dripped down his nose. He switched off the sander to see Bones on his knees and hear the sharp crackle of a hammer. He stared at the boards, now shaped into a small hut, no higher than his waist. A wooden trough sat under the roof. Bones hammered a five pointed shape onto the crown of the roof.

It's not a hut.

Chekov's eyes sparked with wonder. "A nativity?"

Bones set down the hammer. "No McCoy Christmas is complete without one."

Chekov fingered the wood shaving Bones had placed for "straw." "Where are the people? The animals?"

"You'll see tomorrow," said Bones.

Chekov couldn't stop running his hands over the fresh pine. It stilled the thumping of his heart.

"Reminds me of the farm," he said softly.

Bones patted his shoulder. "I know. I'm so sorry you lost…this is your first Christmas without…"

"No. I didn't lose it—or them." Pavel exhaled a long breath. "They're still with me."

Bones kept his hand at the nape of Chekov's neck, rubbing his clavicle. They drank in the beauty of their labor.

"I can smell you from here!" called a voice.

Pavel startled and Bones rumbled a soothing "easy" until he calmed.

Alice stood on the back steps. "I hope you're not planning on coming to the table like that!"

"Right on time," said Bones, hoisting Pavel to his feet. Louder, "It's ready, Ma!"

By the time Chekov showered and came downstairs, the long dining table was full—and noisy. He squeezed into a seat between Bones and a woman who insisted, "call me Aunt Marge!" even though Pavel knew Bones had no siblings.

Alice said grace and the first thing Pavel saw upon opening his eyes was a tray of beans in Bones' outstretched arm. The doctor waved it under the boy's nose.

"Eat. You're still ten pounds too thin, though how that's possible with Jim's fried wings obsession in our apartment, I'll never know."

Ducking his head, Pavel obliged the grousing CMO.

"It's partly my fault," Bones added, "but I'm a doctor not a cook."

"I hear that's more your specialty, Mr. Chekov," said Alice.

"Oh, ah, I like cooking." Pavel threw a quick glare at Bones when he scooped three epic globs of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "It's a…familiar task. I've been cooking since I was toddling height."

Alice frowned at Bones and he shook his head. Her eyes filled with worry and a touch of sorrow.

Pavel held up a pacifying hand. "I enjoy it very much, fear not. Cooking is community, my Babu always said."

"Too true. Which reminds me," said Alice. "You didn't wear a hat or gloves outside. Keep that up and you'll freeze!"

Bones snickered. Pavel hid a smile in his turkey.

This is swimsuit weather.

"Not for Texas," said Bones, reading his thoughts.

"It must be very cold in Russia," piped one relative across the table.

Pavel's ears flushed, but he answered all their questions. Everyone made him feel included.

Dish after dish was passed around, children threading behind his chair and over his legs. Pavel, once freed from being the center of conversation, set down his fork with a shaking hand. He could barely see the table under impressive amounts of food. Mentally, he calculated how many hours of fieldwork the vegetables and fruits and meat dishes would have taken.

And here it is, right for me to eat.

"Dessert!" cheered a little boy, tugging at Pavel's sleeve. "Have you ever had triple berry pie before?"

"No," said Chekov. Belatedly, he realized the plates had been cleared. "I can't say I have…"

He stared at the children and adults now milling freely about the room. He ran a hand across his eyes.

Suddenly, his face lost all colour.