"Daddy!"
"Wake up Daddy!"
Jack O’Neill roused a little, feeling someone shaking his shoulder, and pulling on his arm. He tried to ignore it, hoping that whomever it was would leave him to sleep. He was still tired.
"Daddy!" came the urgent call again.
"Daddy! C’mon please Daddy! It’s Christmas. Santa came last night Daddy! There’s lots of presents under the tree."
The tug on his arm became more insistent and Jack smiled at Charlie’s enthusiasm, already yielding to his son’s demands to wake up. He dragged the covers from his legs and rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes still trying to open against the need to sleep.
"Santa’s been Daddy!" Charlie repeated excitedly.
Jack couldn’t help the grin that crept into his features, but it disappeared with a groan when he looked at the clock.
Oh god! he thought, flopping back onto the bed with a pitiful moan.
"Charlie!" he cried in despair. "It’s too early son! It’s not even four O’clock yet for cryin’ out loud! Daddy just got to bed!" He hadn’t even had an hour’s sleep; no wonder he was tired.
Sara grunted beside him and turned her back on the both of them, falling asleep again, leaving Jack to deal with their energized son.
"Aw Daddy!" Charlie whined.
"Go back to bed Charlie!" Jack ordered his offspring with a yawn. He shivered from the chilly air inside the room and pulled the covers back over himself. Then he closed his eyes, settling back ready to fall asleep once more.
"Daddy! Please!" whined Charlie.
"Bed Charlie! You can open your presents in the morning. Go on. Shoo!" he said sleepily without opening his eyes.
Jack drifted off again, soon forgetting all about getting woken up.
Minutes later a scream hit the quiet air and Jack shot up in bed.
Was that Charlie yelling or was it just a dream? He wondered.
Another shriek and Jack knew Charlie was in trouble. He grabbed his sweat pants from the chair and slipped them on quickly, fumbling in the dark. Sara muttered in her sleep as Jack hurried from the room.
Charlie sounded frightened. Probably had a nightmare, Jack reasoned, but as he approached his son’s bedroom, he could smell smoke. He could see it now, curling up the stairs towards him. He yelled at Sara to get up and dial 911 now!
He ran to the stairs, leaping down them as fast as he could without falling and breaking his neck. Smoke was pouring from the family room and he could now hear the crackle of flames as it burned the furniture inside the room. He brought his arm up to ward off the smoke which had started to affect his breathing.
"Charlie!" he screamed in desperation.
"Daddy," came the reply and ended with the boy coughing endlessly.
Jack jumped across the flames just as he heard Sara screaming for him to find Charlie. Flames licked at him; sweat poured from him in the intense heat. He could feel the flesh on his bare torso burning with agony, but he ignored it all in an attempt to rescue his four year old son.
He coughed more now as the smoke filled his lungs, making breathing both painful and difficult.
"Charlie?"
"Daddy!" the boy cried, sobbing in between the coughs that wracked his small body.
Jack tossed aside the sofa and found his son hiding behind it. Relief flooded his veins, but they were still in danger. He clutched the boy tightly to his chest and shielded him from the worst of the flames.
Flames which had now blocked off his escape.
Never one to back away from danger, Jack ran straight for them, leaping across the burning floor and out into the hallway, and on into the chilly night air. Sara was held back by a neighbour whilst two men from nearby ran towards Jack and the boy, throwing a blanket around them to keep them from getting chilled and dragging them away from the fire that was once their house.
Jack fell to his knees, his chest convulsing from the irritating smoke. He could hear sirens getting closer, but the blackness at the edges of his vision were closing in and he drifted away. His last glimpse had been of a limp Charlie wrapped safely in his mother’s arms while she sobbed in distress and relief.
**********
He was hot. Too hot. He tossed and turned, squirming in an effort to get away from the heat. Cool hands soothed him, and a cool damp cloth was laid over his heated brow, bringing with it a welcome relief. He leaned into it, coughing, still troubled by the irritation to his lungs.
He fell back into nothingness as he calmed down again.
He could see the flames consuming the Christmas tree, it’s hungry tongues licking at the furniture and drapes. They were chasing him, but he had to get to Charlie. He thrashed and tossed, kicking free the cloying heaviness from his legs and feet. He had to run.
Again he felt the cool dampness of the cloth wiping away the heat and a soft voice calming him as the covers were replaced over his body once more.
Sara.
"Sorry Jack. Sara’s not here." The male voice told him.
He hadn’t realise he’d said that out loud, and he idly wondered where she had gone. Perhaps she was with Charlie.
"Um...Charlie’s not here either Jack. Should I get Janet?"
Janet? Who was Janet?
He was hot again, and once more the delicious coolness enveloped him. His lungs felt better. It didn’t hurt so much to breathe now.
He woke from the nightmare again, but this time he managed to open his eyes.
Grey walls surrounded him when his vision cleared.
He tried to comprehend where he was. Some sort of Hospital, he guessed.
Someone walked into his peripheral vision and he turned to see if it was Sara.
"Hi sir, feeling better now?"
He looked blank for a moment until everything came back to him.
He was in the infirmary.
The SGC.
Cheyenne Mountain.
"Doc?"
"Yes Colonel?"
"What happened?" he croaked.
"You went down with the Flu. You had a fever and Daniel volunteered to call in on you to make sure you were okay. It’s just as well he did too sir. A spark from your open fire caught the Christmas tree and it went up in flames. I’m afraid that your lounge is ruined, but Sergeant Siler and his crew have been working round the clock to get it fixed in time for you to go home," the diminutive Doctor informed him, whilst she helped him sip water through the straw in the glass.
He lay back again confused.
"You inhaled a lot of smoke before Daniel arrived and he managed to drag you out of the burning room. You must have fallen asleep on your sofa when the fire started," she continued to fill him in on the events. "Your lungs are improving Colonel, and given another few days, you should be well enough to leave the infirmary."
Jack felt like a wet rag. He was drained, both physically and emotionally. Charlie was dead. He knew that now. He died a long time ago. The dreams were so real though. It was almost as if it happened yesterday. He could understand why he recalled that night years ago. He just wished he could have remembered his son during a happier Christmas.
The End
Author’s Note: I hope this covers the criteria for the above challenge.
© December 2004 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.