 |
 |
 |
 |
| "CHRISTMAS" by Feli |
| CATEGORY: General SEASON: Set after the season 7 episode "Birthright" RATING: G SUMMARY: Something warm and fuzzy for you STATUS: Complete DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The situations and original story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author. AUTHOR'S NOTES: It's getting increasingly difficult to thank my wonderful beta Kat without repeating myself! * * * December 24th, 7:32 pm - Jack O'Neill's house Jack laid the feather duster aside and picked up the picture of Charlie on his mantel. With a wistful sigh he traced the lines of his son's face, leaning his forehead against the cool stone of the fireplace. He could feel the heat of the almost forgotten fire at his legs, and the difference between heat and cold on his body matched the way he was feeling inside. This wasn't a bad Christmas, not in the grand scheme of things. The Christmas the year Charlie had died - that had been bad. Or the Christmas he spent in an Iraqi prison - that hadn't been a Christmas at all. There'd also been Christmases when he was a child that weren't among his fondest memories. His parents fighting; his father yelling at four-year-old Jack when he thought Santa had arrived and stormed out of his room into the main hall - only to find his uncle Garrett, drunk and in a soiled Santa's costume, reeking of alcohol and puke. With Charlie's picture still firmly clasped in his hand he pushed himself away from the cold wall and settled down on the rug in front of the fire. Stretching his long frame he managed to grasp the remote for the stereo, where the CD with his favorite Christmas songs - a cherished gift from Janet and Cassie last year - had long ago stopped playing. He restarted it, then made himself comfortable on the rug again. He thought about getting himself a beer but even after all this time the shock of seeing a drunken Santa Claus sat deeply - he never drank during Christmas time. His thoughts wandered back to the last year and for a moment he couldn't even remember where he'd been that Christmas. Then the memories came rushing back - he'd been halfway across the galaxy, fighting replicators in a time bubble. By the time SG-1 had returned to Earth everyone was already getting ready for their New Year's Eve parties. He'd been invited to several but had declined. Too much had happened, Daniel's non-death, his own blending - god, how he hated that word and everything it implied! From behind him Jack pulled out another log from the pile and put it on top of the crackling fire. The wood sizzled and hissed, then calmed. He looked around his living room. The fire and the small lamp in the corner bathed everything in a warm, orange glow and reflected off the red balls on his Christmas tree. Yes, Jack O'Neill had a Christmas tree. Granted, it was small - Sara would have had his hide for bringing in such a tiny tree - but it was a real Christmas tree, complete with balls and bits of tin foil. No, he concluded, as he finished his survey of the room. This wasn't a bad Christmas. Daniel was back with them and Jonas seemed to be making good progress with brokering a peace treaty for his people. And Teal'c even had a new girlfriend. This last thought made him grin. Boy, that kiss in the gateroom - way to go, T! With a commiserating groan for his back and knees he stood up again. He put the picture of Charlie in its spot on the mantle and picked the feather duster up again. That hot and cold feeling inside wasn't gone completely though and Jack didn't really know what to do. The house was clean, there was enough food stocked in the fridge, along with some sodas, and he still had that Simpsons episode on tape he'd been wanting to watch for ages. As he drew the duster over the phone he wondered what the rest of his team were doing. December 24th, 7:35 pm - Sam Carter's house Sam smiled as she pressed the 'Stop' button on her DVD player, turning the ending credits of "Galaxy Quest" into a blue screen. She'd probably seen this movie a dozen times now but the adventures of the NSEA Protector and its crew always made her laugh. She loved to nitpick all the facts the movie's writers had gotten wrong and point out the physical impossibilities of certain aspects of the film. Yet once, when SG-1 had visited a planet that looked eerily similar to the one in "Galaxy Quest", she had actually expected a scattering of rocks to turn into a giant rock monster. She grinned to herself - luckily she hadn't told the colonel about that, MacKenzie would have had a field day with her. She turned off the TV and started collecting the remnants of her carpet picnic. It was an odd Christmas tradition to have, she knew, and you probably couldn't even call it a tradition - this was only the third time in ten years that she'd done it - but she liked to think of it as a tradition anyway. Yes, there were other ways to spend Christmas. Three years ago she had spent it with her father and her brother's family in San Diego. She would never forget the sight of her niece and nephew on Christmas morning, their cheeks rosy and their eyes sparkling with excitement. The entire house had smelled of cinnamon and last night's dinner. The CD in the background had competed with the squeals of the children and the 'hi ho' of the cheesy animated Santa Clause puppet, and her sister-in-law had almost burst into tears when her husband's Christmas present turned out to be a brand new, high-tech kitchen machine. Sam had received a pink sweater with frills from her brother that she wouldn't be seen dead in - but she'd enjoyed herself like she seldom had before in her life. After all Christmas was about spending time with your family. She also remembered the Christmases when her mother still lived. They had lived on a different Air Force base every year but her mother always managed to make it feel like the most special place on Earth during Christmas time. And her father was always there to spend Christmas with them. He stopped celebrating Christmas with his kids after her mother had died and for the next couple of years Christmas was synonymous with the most painful time of the year for Sam. Then came the Air Force Academy, the Pentagon and now her time at the SGC. She learned new ways to spend Christmas; sometimes she didn't even get the chance to celebrate Christmas at all - like last year. So all things considered, this Christmas wasn't too bad. As she took the empty tea mug into the kitchen, her eyes came to rest upon the telephone and she wondered what her teammates were doing. December 24th, 7:36 pm - SGC Teal'c held the wooden stick to the candle and watched the flame spring to life. Just a few weeks ago he had told Daniel that he didn't need to Kel'no'reem anymore and technically he didn't. But as he had found out that night with Daniel in his room, it didn't hurt to follow the old ritual either. Especially at this time of the year. Teal'c wasn't a religious person - and living as slaves to Apophis certainly hadn't let the people of Chulak develop any religious traditions - but shortly upon coming to Earth he had found that he enjoyed Christmas and all it signified. He'd known about the importance of rituals early on but the kind of rites taught to a future first prime weren't the same kind of warm and comforting celebrations that Christmas was among the Tau'ri. Once all the candles were lit he settled down into his customary position. He'd had a huge dinner earlier and had already distributed his gifts to the unlucky staff members who had to spend Christmas on base instead of with their families. The miniature Stargate key rings he'd fabricated with Siler's help had been a big success. As his breathing deepened he let his eyes slowly roam the room once more. His eyes got caught by the only picture he had of his late wife and a pang of guilt shot through him. Her death last year had hit him harder than he liked to admit. Yet it wasn't grief over her loss per se - they'd been living separate lives for over six years when she died, and even before he became the Shol'va they'd been growing apart due to his increasing resentment against Apophis and everything the Goa'uld stood for. Now, with the recent events on Ishta's world and the sudden rise of emotions Teal'c had felt with the beautiful Jaffa warrior, he had to admit that he'd been ready for a new love in his life for some time. And although he hadn't lied to Ishta when he told her that part of him would always love his wife, his grief about the death of Drey'auc had been born of guilt and a sense of failure more than anything else. He shook his head in a gesture that translated into wry amusement for less stoic men. What was it about Christmas that always made you want to be honest with yourself? That compelled you to try and sort things out for yourself - with yourself? He didn't know. All he knew was that he liked Christmas here on Earth or wherever he got to spend this time of year nowadays. His eyes rested on the picture of his wife for another moment, then moved on to the phone next to the frame. He wondered what the rest of SG-1 were doing. December 24th, 7:38 pm - Daniel Jackson's apartment With a flourish Daniel put the last twig into place. He couldn't believe he was actually celebrating Christmas in his own apartment once again. It felt good! Surreal but good. He looked around the room at the results of his last minute decorating frenzy. He'd never been one for decorating and getting into the Christmas spirit that much. As a child Christmases were spent anywhere but in the Western world where Christmas was so joyously celebrated. His parents had been firm believers in the saying 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', therefore the word Christmas had never signified anything special to him. As he brushed some invisible dust off a precious artifact, he remembered the Christmas in the year his parents had died. He'd been in New York, waiting for the final consent from his grandfather to adopt him - a consent that never came - and for the first time in his life experienced Christmas time. For an eight-year-old it'd been overwhelming. There were lights everywhere, red, green and white here, golden and blinking there. Santas stood at every corner, rattling the boxes in which they collected money for the poor, and Christmas songs played from every speaker in every store. The withered brown twigs stuck unlovingly to the door of every dorm in the orphanage had been a sad contrast to the brilliant decoration of the city, and the little tree with the candy sticks on it couldn't compete with the awe inspiring colossus towering over the ice rink at Radio City Music Hall. Especially once he'd found out that the candy sticks were made of plastic. His teenage years also hadn't been very educational as far as Christmas decorations were concerned. Mrs. Miller, his foster mother from age 12 though 15, had loved Christmas and in particular Christmas decorations. Consequently every December their house would look like a big ball of cotton candy with strings of blinking lights wound through and around the house. Tinsel angels and putti, made in Taiwan, would also feature heavily. A fond laugh escaped his lips as he remembered that he'd even been too embarrassed to take his high school flame Melissa home. They'd been going steady for a while and that night she informed him that she was ready to take the next step. So was he - but not in his room where harping angels were hanging from the ceiling, playing "O Tannenbaum". Aside from that Wanda Miller had provided Christmases filled with warmth and joy and he would always be grateful to her for showing him what Christmas is really about. He rearranged the chrysanthemums in the beautiful vase he'd bought specifically for this occasion and bent over to take in their intoxicating smell. One of the things he'd missed most during his ascension was his sense of smell. He could see all the wonders and the beauty of the universe but he could never smell anything - or touch it, like he did now with the velvety texture of the blossoms. Done. He took a deep breath as he looked around once more. He was back. He had a new apartment, new furniture, a new CD with Christmas songs and new Christmas decorations. He also had a brand new coffee maker to prepare cinnamon spiced Arabian blend coffee. As he walked over to the counter with the coffee maker, his gaze locked onto his new phone. He wondered what the others were doing. December 25th, 2:00 am - Jack O'Neill's house "…so they crash the ship right into the Convention Center and get out. Then bad guy regains consciousness and Taggart shoots him, right on stage. The fans think it's all part of the show and cheer their lungs out. The guys are heroes." "They held a lot of those conventions in the movie - do these things exist for real?" Daniel asked with a frown. "Why?" Sam asked back, not sure why her friend would pick out *this* detail to discuss of all things. "I have heard of Star Wars conventions taking place," Teal'c informed his team mates. "Wouldn't it be cool if they held a convention for Martin's show, Wormhole X-Treme? I mean, that would almost be as if they held a convention about us!" Daniel warmed to his topic. Sam grabbed the container with popcorn from the archeologist's grasp and helped herself to another mouthful. "A convention at the SGC with the general as Master of Ceremonies, huh?" she mused. "What's that got to do with Christmas?" Jack came in from his back porch, bringing a wave of ice cold air with him. "Urgh, Jack, close the door! It's freezing!" Daniel shivered indignantly. "You've never been to Antarctica, have you?" Jack smirked as he pulled the gloves off his stiff fingers. "Duh!" was Daniel's only response as he reached for his glass of mulled wine. Luckily he had brought all the ingredients with him to their impromptu Christmas party. Who would have thought that Jack wouldn't have any alcohol in the house at Christmas? "We were talking about traditions, Christmas traditions," Sam explained to her CO. "And rituals," Teal'c added. "Rituals to cleanse your soul at a spiritual time like this." "Oh!" "And houses that look like cotton candy with putti. That's what Christmas is about!" "Putti?" Jack stared at Daniel as if he'd grown two heads. Daniel grinned behind his glass and winked at Sam. "Yes, and not to forget tinsel angels!" she immediately caught on. Shaking his head Jack stepped over to the wall next to the fireplace and fiddled with the buttons on a time-controlled switchbox. After a few tries he found the right one. Motioning his team mates to stand over by the glass doors, he flipped a switch. The fir trees in his backyard lightened up with a brilliant golden light that shone clearly into the night sky and reflected on the smiling faces of his friends. Jack looked out at the spectacle he'd created. "I think Christmas is about family," he whispered. FIN (c) Feli 2003 |
 |
|
|