Lt. JG Natasha Cole - The Last Thanksgiving

[Natasha Schell]

((Cole’s Quarters - Deck 6 - USS Artemis-A))

 

((OOC: I modified added first initials since it could be confusing since Natasha uses her mothers maiden name.))

 

The lights were low, not dimmed, but softened like an artificial dusk. Natasha had left them that way intentionally. It gave the room a quiet, amber glow, enough to blur the sharp corners of her thoughts while still letting her pace, barefoot, across the carpet.

 

She’d been reading reports, or trying to. The PADD lay on the couch abandoned, screen dimmed into sleep. She’d made a mistake … no, the choice of looking at the date. Late November. Close enough.

 

Thanksgiving.

 

While Starfleet didn’t officially observe it, there was the acknowledgment that personnel did observe it in some fashion. There was no protocol for seasonal grief. But her body remembered. And her mind refused to let the memory stay buried.

 

Natasha sank into her chair, tucking one knee up toward her chest, and let the memory take her the way it always did slowly at first, like a static charge against bare skin then all at once.

 

((Flashback – Family Home - Pennsylvania - Years Ago))

 

The house was old, in their family for generations, they always went to spend holidays there as a sense of tradition, rather than staying home on Luna. That day it smelled like roasted turkey,sage stuffing, cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter, and that sweet potato dish her mother made because someone, somewhere, had once complimented it. It was warm in that overly nostalgic human way, decorations slightly mismatched, windows fogged from the oven heat, the radiator clicking every few minutes like it was gossiping to itself.

 

Natasha, still Nathan to her father at that point, and only Nat quietly to her mother sat at the kitchen table. Her hair was growing out awkwardly, brushing the tops of her ears. She had painted her nails a muted blue. It had taken her an hour of courage and three online tutorials.

 

Her father stared at them like they were weapons.

 

Juno, still using they/them only inside their own head hovered near the fridge, pretending to debate juice flavors but really watching the tension like one watches a storm develop on radar.

 

Her mother moved between stove and counter like a conductor conducting an orchestra, sensing the emotional air pressure and trying desperately to keep the storm from forming.

 

But it was too late.

 

Her father cleared his throat. It was the kind of sound that came before a lecture.

 

Solan: So… this is what we’re doing now, huh?

 

Natasha remembered how her stomach knotted, how the walls suddenly felt too close, how the air felt too thin.

 

N Cole: ::quietly:: I told you this weeks ago.

 

Solan: You said you were questioning. That you were thinking things through. Not that you were ::his hand flicked vaguely at her hair, her nails:: doing all… this.

 

Her mother shot him a warning look. He ignored it.

 

M Cole: She’s doing what she needs to do. She’s being honest with herself. That’s more than most adults manage.

 

Her father scoffed. He actually Scoffed, like her entire existence was a punchline he didn’t find funny.

 

Solan: I’m trying, alright? I’m trying to wrap my head around it. But it’s a phase, Nath…

 

And that was it. That was the match to powder.

 

N Cole: No. Do not call me that. And it’s not a phase.

 

Solan: You don’t know that.

 

N Cole: ::rising from her chair:: I know who I am, I just need the rest of the world to let me be her.

 

Her father stood too, because he always had to meet eye level like it was a contest.

 

Solan: You’re young! People your age don’t know who they are. You can’t just rewrite your entire life because you feel confused.

 

Natasha felt the heat rising in her face, the sting in her eyes. Not from shame but from something far more primal … fury.

 

N Cole: Confused? I’m not confused, I’m relieved. I finally get to breathe without pretending I’m choking. Like a weight has been lifted off me that someone decided it was just fine for me to bear for the rest of my life. Living someone else’s plan.

 

Juno had gone still, trying to either blend into the background or pass through the floor.

 

Her mother wiped her hands on a dishtowel, stepped between them, her voice soft but sharp enough to cut steel.

 

M Cole: That’s enough. Both of you.

 

But her father wasn’t listening. He never listened, not when it was his worldview that was the one being challenged.

 

Solan: And what about Juno, huh? What kind of example are you setting for him?

 

Juno flinched. It was a tiny movement, but Natasha caught it.

 

Natasha stepped to her side right in front of them without thinking.

 

N Cole: Don’t drag Juno into this. This is about me, not them.

 

Solan: Everything is about you lately.

 

N Cole: That’s because for once in my life, I’m not pretending to be your son!

 

Silence.

 

A heavy one, so thick even the ratty old radiator was silent.

 

Her father’s jaw moved like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to spit out.

 

Solan: I need air.

 

He didn’t wait. Didn’t look at her. Didn’t look at Juno. He grabbed his coat, stormed out the front door, and let it slam hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the wall.

 

And that was the last time she saw him.

 

Natasha remembered the way the absence felt louder than the argument. The way Juno had immediately clung to her side. The way her mother had pulled them both into her arms without saying a word.

 

Her mother had cried first. Quietly. Not out of pain, out of fear that they were hurting.

 

M Cole: ::kissing Natasha’s forehead and whispered:: You are mine. And you are loved. And you are exactly who you’re supposed to be.

 

M Cole: ::kissing Juno’s forehead and whispered:: Both of you. Always.

 

Natasha had swallowed hard, blinked fast, and thought:

 

I will be better than him.

 

((Back to Present - Cole’s Quarters - USS Artemis-A))

 

Natasha exhaled, slow and steady, letting the memory leave her like fog clearing.

 

The room was quiet, humming softly with the ship’s heartbeat. A mug of tea had gone cold on her nightstand. A half-finished sketchpad sat open on her desk, a doodle of the twins, tiny and wide-eyed.

 

She rubbed her thumb along the inside of her wrist, grounding herself.

 

Her father hadn’t spoken to her since that day. He’d sent one curt message after her Academy graduation a single sentence. No apology. No acknowledgment. No willingness to learn.

 

And she’d realized, finally, that wanting his approval had been like trying to drink from a well long dried.

 

She straightened, stretching her legs out. Her reflection in the window looked back stronger now, sharper around the edges, softer in the center ... Better.

 

She whispered into the quiet:

 

Cole: You left. But I didn’t. I stayed. I grew. I became someone worth knowing.

 

Her commbadge glinted on the table. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands the metal, weighty, grounding.

 

She thought of Juno, who had since found their truth and walked into it bravely, beautifully. Of her mother, who still sent messages full of warmth and badly aimed camera angles.

 

She thought of the Artemis. Of the people who had become her found family, her chosen orbit and she smiled.

 

Cole: Better than him. Better than yesterday. That’s enough.

 

The ship hummed in agreement. Or maybe that was just her heart settling a little easier in her chest.

 

Either way, she finally felt still.

-----
Lt. JG Natasha Cole
Security Officer
USS Artemis-A
Writer ID A240205NC4