George whistled “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” as he rearranged the mountain of shiny boxes for the tenth time. He checked the clock on the mantle for the fifth time in the last hour. He felt like a kid himself.
In just over an hour, his girls and his grandkids would be landing at Denver International Airport, returning from the East Coast and visits with the in-laws. For the first time in years, they’d all be together for Christmas. It had been too long since this house was filled with more than the sound of his own snoring and the ping of the microwave when his dinner was done.
Cancer took Margaret not too long after they’d bought the house. It was supposed to be for his retirement. After she died, he couldn’t see any reason to retire. Their daughters were both living their own lives, working, marrying and having families after finishing college. It was just himself and the financially-starved, organized chaos he called Stargate Command. It filled his days, and though he cared about the people who worked with him, it wasn’t the same as having family around you.
Between starting jobs, getting married, and having children, it had been nearly impossible to get everyone together for Christmas. George also thought it was a little difficult for his girls to be in the house without their mother. But fate had been kind, in some respects. Jenny and Rob and Tessa and Kayla had come to Colorado a few years ago. Becca, Mike, and the boys, lived in the Austin area but arranged their schedules to first visit Mike’s family in Boston, then to come to Colorado.
The general stepped back to admire the scene. It was movie perfect: pine boughs and stockings hung from the mantle; scarlet poinsettias brightened corners; colorful wrapped packages hugged the base of a ten-foot tall Colorado spruce that had taken him two days to decorate with tiny white lights, gold and silver ornaments, and wide golden wired ribbon. Sam Carter had told him the ribbon would be less work and mess than beads or tinsel. She’d been right.
Smart gal, that Sam, he thought.
She reminded him of his daughters. Lots of spunk, and even more brains.
Her father is light years away. I wonder if Christmas was a big event for the Carters when Sam was growing up. Knowing Jacob’s nature, probably not. I wonder if they miss each other.
---------
Sam pulled the soft cotton blanket tighter around her, trying to get warm. She tucked her stockinged feet underneath her and wondered why the fire in the fireplace couldn’t seem to chase away the cold....not even with a wool sweater, jeans, wool socks, an extra blanket, and hot cocoa with extra marshmallows as backups.
Nestled into the corner of her sofa, she readied herself for the “It’s a Wonderful Life” marathon on cable channel six. In addition to her woolies and hot cocoa, a plate of cookies from Janet and Cassie was nearby, along with a box of tissues, just in case.
Her blinking, six foot, artificial pine, caught her attention. Blue lights, silver ribbon, a smattering of glass ornaments, and her mother’s angel tree topper all gave off a peaceful glow. All in all, it looked pretty good, even though she hadn’t felt like decorating it. Christmas had lost its shine this year. The only reason she’d put it up was Cassie’s insistence.
The movie was only 15 minutes old, and already Sam’s eyes were watery. Seeking distraction, she poked at the blob of half-melted marshmallow in her mug. She blinked, and tears spilled over her lashes and splashed into the cocoa.
She set the mug on the side table behind her and plucked a tissue from the box.
I should have gotten a ticket to the Bahamas or Jamaica. I’d probably still be depressed, but at least I’d be warm, drunk, and have a tan to show for it.
Gathering up the blanket, she wandered over to the picture window, ringed with multicolored chasing lights...another suggestion of Cassie’s...but she’d drawn the line at bubble lights for the tree. Sam looked out into the twilight. Light clouds filtered the starlight and provided a few snowflakes. She rested her head against the window frame.
“I miss you, Dad.”
It was a revelation that made no sense. Her dad had never been a warm and fuzzy type when she was growing up, but she knew he loved her in his own way. And when she thought she was going to lose him to cancer, she realized how much she loved him back. The tears traced lines down her face and she no longer tried to stop them. After a few minutes, she dabbed her face and blew her nose.
General Jacob Carter spoke to her from a lifetime as a military brat.
Look at yourself, Samantha! You’re a self-sufficient, educated, respected member of the armed forces yet here you are, on Christmas Eve, allowing yourself to feel miserable. I have a new life...a life I wouldn’t have at all if it weren’t for you and SGC. I’m alive and active, and happy to have a purpose.
Feeling irritated and useless, Sam shrugged off the blanket and tossed it on the sofa, then doused the fire. With a push of a button, Jimmy Stewart disappeared. Then she shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her jacket and keys, and left.
---------
George Hammond looked at the eight by ten portraits on the mantle. Eight faces beamed at him: his girls, their husbands -- both great men -- , and four grandkids -- two boys, two girls.
The youngest, Tyler, was almost three, and a strapping boy at that, thanks to the Hammond genes. Tyler’s father, Mike, was tall and wiry. He liked to run marathons. Banking on the idea that the boy would take after his grandpa, George had gotten him a regulation football and a kid-size Denver Broncos uniform....never mind that Rebecca was a Browns fan. He expected to get an earful when Tyler opened the box, but all would be forgiven within minutes.
He looked at the clock and wished he hadn’t. Only five minutes had gone by.
Pacing over to the window, George noticed a few flakes of snow drifting down in the deepening twilight. He hoped for a few inches of snow during Christmas break so Bobby and Kayla could try out their sleds. The two cousins were just weeks apart in age. Now nine, they were best friends too.
George opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, breathing in the clean, sharp air of the blessed night. Up and down the street, chimneys puffed and houses were glowing with lights. The Forsythes had outlined their entire colonial with multicolored lights. It was a wonder old William hadn’t fallen off the roof and killed himself.
“It’s tradition!” he’d bellowed from the roof, after George had asked him from the safety of the sidewalk if he was nuts.
It was a perfect Christmas Eve. He whistled “The Carol of the Bells” as he came back inside to brew some coffee and ready the cocoa for the kids. The kids were the best part of the entire holiday.
George was surprised to find himself thinking about Jack O’Neill as he headed to the kitchen and began gathering mugs and plates.
How does Jack handle this time of the year since losing Charlie? And Sara? This is the first Christmas I’ve looked forward to celebrating and being with everyone. Before, I just accepted that I’d be by myself, and made a point to work the holiday.
Jack’s always a rock. I’ve seen him get angry, I’ve seen him moody, and I’ve seen him reduce everyone to laughing hyenas in a staff meeting....but I’ve never known Jack to be sad. Of course, none of us are in the habit of freely showing our emotions...except possibly Dr. Jackson.
Why is it even when I’m *not* with them, I’m worrying about the welfare of SG-1?
----------------
Since he’d been at Stargate Command, he’d received 20 ornaments as gifts. If he stayed much longer, he’d have to spring for a taller tree. Every inch of the three-footer he now owned was covered with ornaments and bulbs of every size, shape, and color, and yet, Daniel had two more to hang.
Sergeant M’kembe from SG-5 celebrates Kwanzaa, as well as Christmas. He and his children had made Daniel an ornament shaped like a kinara. A lot of effort had been put into it. The color and detail were beautiful and it deserved a special place. He found one, near the top of the tree.
The glass pickle caught his eye. It was from SG-11’s Captain Mueller, who told him the German tradition of the pickle ornament. In the old country, the family hosting Christmas dinner would hang a green pickle ornament deep in the branches of the evergreen tree. The child that found it received an extra gift from Saint Nicholas.
Then, there was the delicate silver spider web and the crystal spider from Airman Sydorenko. It was “spun” from a Hungarian tradition that finding a spider web in your home on Christmas Day would bring good luck throughout the year to come.
There were also the silver and lapis dreidel from archivist Lt. Feinmann, who had given it to Daniel as a thank you gift for helping her sort and relabel 200 files; the glass dragon from Lt. Cho; a gold crescent moon with a small star dangling from one end from one of the astronomers, Dr. Weatherby; and, probably the most unusual of them all, a small disco ball from SG-7’s Sgt. Bliss. Daniel had yet to learn the significance behind that one, but the silver facets reflected the tree lights and added some extra sparkle.
He went back to the box containing the fragile decorations and pulled out the last one. Same reaction as last year...his eyes welled up.
It was a round, hand-painted portrait in a small gold frame. It was the Madonna and Child, but unlike the more common representations, this Madonna had olive skin, dark hair, and brown eyes...a more accurate portrait, indicative of the physical traits of Middle Eastern people.
She looks so much like Sha’re it’s spooky, Daniel thought.
It had been a gift from Janet Frasier.
Daniel secured it to the top of the tree, and then leaned against the arm of the sofa to admire his work.
I wonder what Sha’re would think about all of this. The hustle and bustle. The Christmas carols. The snow. Daniel chuckled. Her reaction to the snow alone would be worth the price of admission.
Daniel thought about all the other families all around the world celebrating Christmas, and tried to envision himself with Sha’re, living an *American* holiday. Picturing Sha’re in the kitchen wasn’t difficult, nor was picturing her shooing *him* out of it. It would be a holiday dinner bordering on a Middle Eastern style...not the usual turkey with the works.
The usual? What is *the usual* for me? *Nothing* I do is “usual.” My childhood was unusual. My education was unusual. God knows my *job* is unusual! I can’t picture myself living “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Not with Sha’re, anyway. If I were still on Abydos, we wouldn’t even celebrate Christmas. I wonder if a so-called “normal” life is even possible for me.
Daniel wondered where Sha’re was. He hadn’t seen her since delivering the Harcesis child on Abydos. Was she resisting Ammonet and trying to come back to him? She’d had the chance to turn SG-1 over to the Serpent Guards or to Heru’ur, but she didn’t. Had her deception been detected? Was she still alive? Did she miss him? Did she still love him?
Daniel felt hollow, empty. He stared at his humble three foot tree, with the dark haired Madonna, perched like an angel at the top. Every major religion, and several minor ones, was represented on his tree, along with cultural and family traditions that his coworkers and friends shared with him, indulging his ongoing quest for knowledge and understanding.
What do I believe?
His eyes lit on yesterday’s newspaper. Everyone was still at it: the Israelis and the Palestinians; India and Pakistan; Christians and Muslims; black and white.
The Goa’uld and everyone else....
The song on his CD player caught Daniel’s attention. “...God is not dead nor doth he sleep. The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on Earth, goodwill to men.”
But who is wrong and who is right? Will we ever know?
Daniel remembered General Hammond’s family would be visiting, and wished he could be a fly on the wall at the Hammond house to see if he kept everything as organized at home as he did at the base. Then he put away the ornament box, picked up a book and his coffee, and stretched out on the sofa to the angelic sound of “Ave Maria” on harp.
-----------
Running out of tunes to whistle, George turned on the radio, set to a local station that was playing holiday music commercial free through the 26th. Johnny Mathis crooned “The Christmas Song.”
The Christmas Day turkey was prepped and ready for the oven, minus the stuffing, which would go in right before cooking. The widower general had even made two pumpkin pies. Margaret would be proud, but if anyone under his command found out he could bake, he’d never hear the end of it.
The house smelled of nutmeg and pine and cloves and chocolate and coffee. The family should be here any minute.
The phone rang. Visions of unscheduled off world activations raced through his head.
“General Hammond.”
“Dad? It...it’s Becca...”
“Hello, sweetheart! Where are you? Are you at the airport?”
“No....Dad....” He could hear the tears in her voice.
“Becca, honey, what’s wrong?”
“We’re stuck in Chicago.”
Disappointment welled in his chest.
“What happened?”
“There’s a huge blizzard. We were okay until we cleared Cleveland. It came up out of nowhere and now there are 50 mile an hour winds and zero visibility. Dad, it’s going to be at least two days before we can get there.”
“Are Jenny and Rob and Tessa and Kayla there too?”
“No. They were forced to land in Cleveland.”
Not only are they not here, they aren’t even together for Christmas.
“How are the kids taking it? How’s Tyler?”
“He’s asleep right now. He’s going to be terribly disappointed. All he’s talked about for a week spending Christmas with Grampa.” He could hear his youngest daughter’s voice cracking with tears. He was pretty close himself.
Clearing his throat, George said, “Now, Becca, it’ll be okay. I’ll go ahead and cook the turkey tomorrow anyway and freeze it. We’ll warm it up when you get here. The presents will be here too, and remind Tyler that Santa will still leave presents at his house.”
“I know. Dad, I’m so sorry...”
“Honey, it’s okay. As much as we’d like to, we can’t control the weather.” His thoughts flashed to the Madronan’s Touchstone and he wondered if he could borrow it for five minutes. “Do you have a hotel yet?”
“The airline’s working on it. As soon as we do, I’ll call you.”
“Okay, Becca. Give the boys hugs and kisses for me and I’ll see you in a couple days.”
“I love you, Dad. Merry Christmas.”
“It will be when you get here, but I love you too.”
George hung up the phone. He tried to decide what to do next, and to come to grips with the fact that, just like the last eight years, he’d be alone for Christmas. It was one thing to know they had no plans to come, or couldn’t come because of scheduling. But to know they were coming, and not have it happen....
Judy Garland filtered into his thoughts.
“Through the years we all will be together...if the fates allow....”
He turned out the light in the kitchen, blew out the candles dotting the tables in the great room, extinguished the fire, and flipped the switch that turned out the tree. Darkness filled the room.
“...and have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”
---------------
Judy Garland flowed into Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas.” Jack took another swig of beer and turned the page in the photo album.
Charlie’s toothless grin beamed out at him from the page. He was sitting on Sara’s lap, holding a giant teddy bear. He was about six months old. Other photos clicked off the years: age two with his first football; age three, waist deep in an upturned barrel of Lincoln Logs; age four, a new mitt and cap, as well as his first Louisville slugger.
Jack chuckled as he remembered that Charlie had taken out one of Sara’s vases with it.
There was another photo of Charlie looking less than thrilled, at the age of six, to have his mother adjusting his Christmas necktie...a real necktie, not a clip-on. Jack could sympathize.
The next page showed Jack and Charlie putting together a Lionel train set with about twenty miles of track and no diagram. It had taken them a week to get it all together, but it had been worth it. It was their first father-son project. It had been their *only* father-son project. Charlie died the following summer.
Jack’s eyes burned and he pinched them, then tried to wash away the knot in his throat with a little more Labatt’s.
Another flip of the page revealed Jack in his dress blues, and Sara, stunning in sparkling pale pink cocktail dress at the Officers’ Holiday Ball that same Christmas.
We were damn close to perfect. When we were together, we were damn close to perfect. I loved her. We were a family.
Jack eased the photo album shut and placed it on the coffee table. He hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands cradling the beer. Sitting on the edge of the armchair put him closer to the fire in the fireplace, and he hoped it would melt away the chill that was building inside him.
Charlie’s death was my fault. I was drowning in my own grief and couldn’t see that Sara needed me. She tried to tell me. I wouldn’t listen. I hated myself so much I couldn’t see how she could possibly love me. But she did.
And I still love her. But there’s no way I can make up for what happened. It’s better for her if I don’t try.
The beer was about empty. Draining it, Jack walked to the kitchen, chucked the empty bottle in the wastebasket, and grabbed another from the fridge. The cap from the new bottle bounced off the rim of the basket and landed on the floor. Jack returned to the living room.
Holidays suck.
Even though Bing sang from the stereo, another song went through Jack’s head.
“I’m much to young to feel this damn old.”
He flopped back down in the armchair, and remembered another beer fest. This one involved Daniel.
It was after Jack had brought him back from Abydos...after Apophis had taken Sha’re and Skaara. They talked. They each listened. They decided action was necessary. Daniel was a lightweight, buzzed after one beer.
Crises I can deal with. If it’s a six foot tall snake with glowing eyes, a ship the size of the Pyramids at Giza, a thermonuclear weapon with a busted timer, rappelling into a black hole, having the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into my head, I can deal with any of that. Why can’t I get a grip on my own life?
Jack set the beer, untouched, on the table next to the photo album. He slouched in the armchair and stared up at the two-foot-high fiber-optic Christmas tree on the mantle. It had been a gift from Cassie. At first he’d thought it was a little kitschy, but he gave it a place of prominence. Now, the flowing pinpoints of light had a soothing, hypnotic quality. Even better, it was a breeze to put up and take down.
Cassie’s a great kid. Whoever her parents were, they got her off to a good start, and Janet...well, she may be a heartless dictator in the infirmary, but she’s got the mom thing down to a science.
Sam had been there when he opened the gift. Where he’d been a little stunned and speechless, Sam had covered for him.
“Oh, colonel, isn’t that wonderful? Cassie, what a sweet idea! Thank you for thinking of us!” Cassie had given Sam a brooch -- a gold bell that jingled, topped with enameled holly leaves.
Sam had a maternal streak in her that never failed to surprise him. Jacob can be as affectionate as a hand grenade, so Sam must take after her mother at least a little bit.
Wonder what she’s doing tonight? With Jacob who-knows-where, I wonder if she’s by herself too. Yeah, right. Blonde, blue-eyed, brilliant Samantha Carter…alone for the holidays. Not.
Jack picked up the cordless and called Sam. It rang four times and then her machine picked up.
“Hi. I can’t come to the phone. You know the drill.” *beep*
“Carter....it’s O’Neill....just wanted to see what you were up to. Merry Christmas.”
He ended the call.
See, Jack. You’re the only one without a life. Well, there’s Daniel…I could call him. No, that’s right...he was going to see Catherine Langford for the holidays at her winter house in Arizona. He isn’t going to be back for three days.
Jack tossed the cordless onto the sofa across from him and sighed. He stood up, doused the fire, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and headed out into the clear night, leaving the fiber optic tree to hypnotize the furniture.
--------------
“When we finally kiss goodnight, how I hate going out in the storm. But if you really hold me tight, all the way home I’ll be warm.”
Janet hugged Cassie as they sang along with Gloria Estefan. The two were putting the finishing touches on a gingerbread house that Janet had ordered from Martha By Mail. The holidays always brought out the baking and decorating guru in her.
Thank heavens it’s only once a year. I’d wear myself out if I tried to do this all year long.
Janet worked to give Cassie a happy childhood…happier than it had been on her home planet. It was Cassie’s second Christmas on Earth. The girl was curious and intelligent and asked a lot of insightful questions. She’d pick up things from her school friends and then ask Janet about them when she got home.
“Our house is almost done. What should we do next?” Janet asked.
“Is there enough snow yet to build a snowman?” Cassie asked, running to the window.
Janet followed. “Mmm...not yet. Maybe by morning, though, if this keeps up.”
Janet hoped General Hammond’s family made it in safe and sound.
“Are you getting hungry?” she asked her adopted daughter.
“Yes, I am. What should we make for dinner?”
“I already have sliced ham, and fixings for sandwiches, plus chips and cranberry walnut salad and raw veggies and Capt. Mueller’s German potato salad. I’d say we have enough here for a squadron!”
“Uncle David, Aunt Molly, and Jeff and Susie won’t be here till tomorrow. Let’s call Capt. Sam and Col. O’Neill and Dr. Jackson! And what about Mr. Teal’c?”
Janet admired Teal’c but didn’t think he’d be comfortable sharing the holidays with just her and Cassie. But maybe if the others came too....
“Cassie, honey, I think Dr. Jackson is out of town. But the rest of them might be available. Let’s make some calls!”
Janet tried Sam first. No answer. Same at Jack’s.
“No one’s home, kiddo.”
“Do you think they’re at SGC?”
“I doubt it. They all have the next three days off. Maybe they went to an early church service, or last minute shopping, or something.”
Janet remembered a conversation she’d had with Sam about a week ago. The blonde captain had been contemplating going someplace tropical for Christmas.
“You know I have a hard time doing nothing,” Sam had said. “With no family around and no work to do, I’ll go crazy.”
No family. Sam, Jack, and Teal’c are all without family. Janet looked at her daughter, who looked right back at her with the wide, expectant eyes of a kid immersed in the holidays.
“Grab your coat, Cassie. Let’s go to the base and see if there’s anyone around.” Cassie grinned, and bounded for the coat rack near the back door.
--------------
I do not understand this holiday they call Christmas. Daniel Jackson says it’s a Christian religious holiday celebrating the birth of a baby that is supposed to save the world. Yet many people who claim to celebrate such a solemn occasion, seem to do so with excessive humor.
Two airmen walked past Teal’c, in uniform except for two red and white velvet hats on their heads.
“Hello, sir,” the chimed. “Merry Christmas!” All Teal’c could do was nod.
From the holiday they call Thanksgiving, people were talking about Christmas shopping, fighting crowds, attempting to purchase tickets for airplane flights to other parts of the world. Some of those trips were to places called the Bahamas, Acapulco, Jamaica, Italy and Australia. But most were attempting to get home to their families, whom they have not seen in many months.
As Colonel O’Neill would say, “I can relate.”
Teal’c had a peculiar sensation. It wasn’t sadness. It was more subtle, but ran deeper.
Emptiness. Absence of...something important.
Teal’c thought about his wife and son, light years away, starting their lives over for their own safety and well-being.
It is necessary, to save Rya’c, and assure that they are protected and free of the Goa’uld. Bra’tac will look after them.
Teal’c continued to walk the halls of Stargate Command, observing those still on duty and those just ending their shifts. Some carried boxes covered in colored paper and bows. Many people he knew were military officers and enlisted personnel were not in uniform, but wearing civilian clothing, much of it in some shade of green or red.
The sound of singing caught his attention, and he walked toward the SGC chapel.
It was very crowded. Every seat was occupied. Other personnel stood along the walls and in the open doorway. The electric lights were low, leaving most illumination coming from candelabra on either side of the altar. A panel on the wall behind the chaplain featured a cross. The panel could be changed to incorporate a symbol for a particular religion, whichever chose to have holiday observances there.
“Silent night....holy night....Son of God....love’s pure light....”
In the doorway, watching the service, was Lieutenant Feinmann. She was still in her USAF uniform, but had ended her shift. She had removed her hair from its customary restraints and it flowed in a thick black river past her shoulders. She turned to Teal’c as he approached the chapel, and smiled, but her eyes were wet.
“Lieutenant Feinmann, I did not think that you took part in Christian rituals,” Teal’c said in a low, respectful voice.
“I don’t, Teal’c. But I heard the music as I was leaving my office and stopped to listen.”
“You are crying...”
She blushed and wiped her eyes. “I know. I think this is one of the most beautiful songs in the world. I cry every time I hear it.”
“When does your holiday begin?”
“It comes a little late this year. Chanukah doesn’t begin until the 27th.”
“That is what Daniel Jackson calls the Festival of Lights.”
“Yes,” she beamed. “It’s very special, and like Christmas, it celebrates a miracle. And this year, my grandparents are visiting from Israel.”
“I believe the appropriate salutation is ‘Shalom.’”
Her eyes welled up again. “Thank you, sir. Peace to you, as well.”
Though it was a Christian holiday, the SGC chaplain kept his service mostly non-denominational. What Teal’c had learned was the sermon focused on universal concepts.
“There are gifts we have been given that transcend age, that transcend borders, that transcend nationalities, and believe it or not, they even transcend rank.”
The congregation chuckled.
“We have powerful gifts, everyone of us. The power to love. The power of friendship. The power of forgiveness. The power of understanding and respect. As this year draws to a close, let us focus on one idea: to see and appreciate the powers and talents and skills within each other, and use them to make the world, even our little corner of it, a better place. To bring us closer to the ultimate goals of peace on Earth....Universal love....respect for all. We must strive to achieve these ideals not just for ourselves...but for our children, and theirs.”
The person in front of Lt. Feinmann turned to face her. It was Sgt. Abdullah from SG-6. Teal’c knew him to be an excellent soldier and a respectful person. He also knew that the nations from which his and Lt. Feinmann’s families hailed were locked in an almost perpetual state of war.
The sergeant looked at her, and offered his hand.
“Shalom, Feinmann.”
“Peace, Abdullah.” She took his hand, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.
The sergeant grinned and blushed. Then they both returned their attention to the chaplain. The symbolism of the gestures had not been lost on those standing near them. Teal’c noted the mixture of smiles and tears.
Perhaps one day, such generosity will also be possible for the Jaffa and the Tok’ra and others who oppose the Goa’uld…but who still cannot see past their differences to form a solid alliance.
Teal’c felt someone standing behind him.
“Hi, Teal’c.”
“Colonel O’Neill...”
“Yeah, I know, I’m supposed to have the day off....”
“That is not what I was going to say.”
O’Neill raised an eyebrow.
Teal’c offered his hand. “Peace.”
Surprised but touched, O’Neill took his hand.
“You too, Teal’c.” Then he added, “You wanna join me for some Christmas cheer?”
“I do not drink alcohol, O’Neill.”
Jack sighed, striving for patience. “I know. I meant coffee or tea in the cafeteria.”
Teal’c nodded to the sergeant and lieutenant, who smiled in return, and left with Col. O’Neill.
“Why have you returned to Stargate Command, Colonel O’Neill?”
Jack shrugged, “I was bored.”
“You were lonely.”
Jack looked at the Jaffa. “Okay. But you didn’t hear that from me. Do you miss Rya’c?”
Teal’c was silent as he thought about this. “I do. But I do not require a holiday to miss him. It is with me daily.”
Jack nodded. They walked through the cafeteria doors to find a lone figure at one of the tables: short blonde hair, red wool sweater with white snowflakes and a Christmas bell brooch, hunched over a white mug as if trying to divine the future.
“Carter?”
Her head popped up at the sound of her name.
“Colonel, hello. Hi, Teal’c.”
The men could see that her eyes were puffy from tears. They walked over to her.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
She nodded.
Teal’c sensed she was not being entirely truthful. “Are you missing Jacob Carter?”
Sam had to smile at Teal’c’s directness. “Yes, I suppose I am, Teal’c. I came here for distraction. I figured if I wasn’t alone, I wouldn’t think about it so much. Wrong answer.” She picked up her mug.
“Whatcha drinkin’, soldier?” Jack asked.
“Peppermint tea.”
“Mighty festive. Mind if we join you?”
She looked at her friends. “I would like that very much, sir.”
Jack grabbed two more mugs, two tea bags, and filled the mugs with hot water. Teal’c observed Jack’s process for creating tea and followed suit, bobbing the tea bag up and down. He sniffed the hot water containing the small pouch. It was not an unpleasant smell...rather invigorating.
“The water is turning brown,” he observed.
“It’s supposed to,” Sam replied. “Teas are a combination of leaves and spices and fruits. It’s the tea leaves that give it the brown color. Hibiscus flowers or berries can turn the water pinkish. Orange peel can give the water a golden color.”
Teal’c had learned from Daniel Jackson that tea rituals were very important in some cultures. Since Captain Carter seemed to enjoy it, out of respect for her, he would try it. The taste of the peppermint was soothing and uplifting at the same time. The hot tea warmed him as he drank.
“This is rather enjoyable, Captain Carter.” Teal’c observed.
Jack and Sam smiled. “I think so,” she answered. She also found their company “rather enjoyable.”
“*There* you all are!”
The trio turned toward the doors to see Janet and Cassandra Frasier grinning at them.
“Merry Christmas!” the duo sang out.
Jack and Sam laughed, and even Teal’c offered a trace of a smile.
“Merry Christmas, doc!” replied Jack.
“Hi, Janet! Hi, Cassie!” Sam answered.
“Shalom,” offered Teal’c. Everyone stared at him. “It means ‘peace.’”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” smiled Janet. “So what are you sad sacks all doing at *work* on your day off? It’s Christmas Eve! I tried calling you all but got your machines.”
It took courage to admit it, but Sam answered, “I guess I needed to go where the love is.”
“Missing Dad, huh?”
Sam nodded.
“Come to our house!” Cassie bubbled, sliding into the seat next to Sam. “We have more cookies...” she bribed.
“Cassandra Frasier,” Sam laughed, putting her arm around the girl, “I haven’t even finished the other plateful you gave me yesterday! I keep eating like that my uniform won’t fit!”
“Okay....how ‘bout carrot sticks and cucumbers?”
“Seriously, Sam, we’d love it if you guys could come over tonight,” the doctor offered. “My brother and his family aren’t coming till tomorrow and we’re feeling rather festive! I have a fridge full of food, plenty of drinks...and I can’t stand the idea of you all being alone tonight.”
“We are not alone, Doctor Frasier. There are many people still on duty tonight.”
“I *mean,* Teal’c, that you are without family.”
“We can be your family,” Cassie offered. “Please come to our house, Mr. Teal’c.”
Jack, Sam, and Teal’c looked at each other, then at Cassie.
“Okay, I’m in!” Sam said.
“Me too,” Jack answered.
“I should like very much to see your home, Miss Cassandra,” Teal’c answered, and smiled.
“Is there room for one more?” a new voice asked.
Daniel stood in the entry.
“Dr. Jackson!” Cassie cheered, and ran to give the archaeologist a hug.
“I thought you went to see Catherine,” Sam said.
Daniel looked sheepish. “I lied. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure how I wanted to spend my time off. I thought I wanted to be by myself....” he knelt beside Cassie. “I’m pretty sure I was wrong.”
“All right, then! We’ll let Teal’c get some outerwear, and then everyone -- into the Frasiermobile!” Janet ordered.
“Brought the minivan, eh? You’re really into this Domestic Goddess thing, aren’t you?” Jack teased.
“I’m Every Woman,” Janet answered.
The group headed toward Teal’c’s quarters, pausing at the chapel to listen to Captain O’Hara’s clear soprano voice offer “O Holy Night” to the heavens...a cappella. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. People whose paths almost never crossed linked arms or held hands. They continued on, but slowed as they neared General Hammond’s office.
A light was visible through the cracked door.
“I thought he was on leave...that his family was due back from the East Coast today...” Sam whispered to Jack.
“Maybe it’s the cleaning crew.” Jack walked up to the door and gave it a light push. Through the five inch opening, past his aide’s desk, Jack could see the general at his desk, going over the contents of a file.
Opening the door the rest of the way, Jack and the group moved to the general’s door. He looked up at their approach.
“Colonel O’Neill? What are you doing here? I thought I gave you three days’ leave.”
“I thought *you* had two weeks off, sir.”
Hammond noted the ensemble gathered behind him: Sam Carter, Janet Frasier, Daniel Jackson carrying Cassandra Frasier, and Teal’c.
“Aren’t *all* of you supposed to be on vacation?”
“Yes, sir,” they answered. “How about you, general?” Janet added, her delicate voice as loud as any church bell in the uncertain atmosphere of General Hammond’s office.
“I thought your family was coming home tonight, sir,” Sam began.
Heavy silence followed.
“They aren’t coming,” General Hammond answered.
“What happened?” Jack asked.
“Blizzard. Becca’s in Chicago. Jenny’s in Cleveland.” He cleared his throat, then added casually, “They’ll be here in a few days. I’ll start my leave then.”
The group looked at each other. Then Cassie asked, “Would you like to come with us, General? We can be your family tonight.”
He looked at the young girl, and at the whole team, expressions of enthusiasm and openness on their faces. At his hesitation, Cassie scooted out of Daniel’s arms and walked up to the general’s desk.
“My mom’s been teaching me about Christmas. She says that Joseph isn’t really Jesus’s father...God is.”
“That’s right...” the general smiled.
“So, wouldn’t that mean that Joseph adopted Jesus? Like Mom adopted me?”
The general laughed, “I suppose so...”
“So let us adopt you! Just for tonight,” Cassie beamed.
Jack raised his eyebrows and smiled. Sam grinned almost to the point of laughing. Janet’s eyes popped at the idea, but then she smiled with pride at her daughter.
The general scrutinized the crew before him. His people...his officers....people he was proud to call “friends.”
“On one condition,” the general intoned. “That you call me George....*just* for tonight.”
“Okay, *George,*” Jack smirked. “Been waiting years to do that,” he said to the rest of the group. General Hammond laughed, closed the file, and stood up.
“Merry Christmas, people.”
“You too, sir, uh, George,” they replied, correcting themselves at the same time.
He gave them “The Stare,” then smiled. Daniel handed him his parka.
In the hallway, music echoed. It wasn’t the regal homage of a worship service. It was the giddy sound of military and civilian personnel heading home on Christmas Eve. Lieutenant Feinmann, Capt. Mueller, and Sgt. Davis were leading an impromptu choir in a version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” As the singers passed the general’s office, a few in the parade called out “happy holidays.”
Seven new voices joined the chorus as George turned out the lights and locked his office door behind him.
Author’s note: Just to put the story into a timeline, it takes place late in Season Two. Also, we know General Hammond has at least two grandchildren; who’s to say there aren’t more?
© December 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.