Teal’c was wearing a very confused expression when Colonel Jack O’Neill found him in the mess. Of course, the stoic Jaffa’s confused expression was not much different from his usual expression; but Jack had been working with the guy long enough to recognise the subtle differences in his expressions. And this was definitely his confused one.
“What’s up, Teal’c?" Jack asked, sitting down opposite him.
The Jaffa arched an eyebrow. “Nothing is ‘up’, O’Neill. Unless you are referring to the mountain which we are below."
Jack refrained from pointing out the obvious (again) that it was just an expression. That got boring after a while. “You look like there is something on your mind. You wanna talk about it?“
He was silent so long that it seemed like there would be no reply, finally one came. “O’Neill, what is ‘Christmas’?“
Jack sighed. He should have figured this was coming. It was getting to that time of the year again; the decorations were going up, stores were advertising sales of toys and jewellery and other gift-giving things. It was natural that the alien who had only been on earth for a few months would be curious about his first Christmas. The colonel just wished that Teal’c had asked someone else the question. Christmas was not a happy time of year for him; not since Charlie had died. It was hard to look at anything Christmassy without feeling a pang of hurt and loss, remembering a child that had loved the holiday the way children do. The previous holiday seasons since the accident Jack had spent getting quietly drunk; and this year was not going to be different.
Looking up, he saw that the Jaffa was still patiently waiting for a reply. “Sorry, Teal’c, Christmas brings back memories, you know?“
“No.“
Walked into that one, Jack thought. “Christmas is the holiday when we celebrate the birth of Christ, who was the Son of God.“
“I fail to see the reason to celebrate the son of a Goa’uld. I thought Danieljackson said that the people of the Tau’ri do not worship any Goa’uld.“
“We don’t. This had nothing to do with the snakes. Daniel said that you were reading the Bible?“
“That is correct, O’Neill.“
“Well, Christmas comes from that. God was worried about the souls of all the people in the world, so He sent his only Son to be born and die for the sins of all the people on Earth.“
“That does not seem efficient, O’Neill.“
“Maybe not, but that’s what the Bible says. In the centuries since it has become a holiday that is celebrated throughout the world.“
“So it is a religious holiday,“ Teal’c stated, his distaste for such evident in his tone.
“It is for some, and it did start out that way, but it has become much more commercialised over the years. For one thing, there is the whole Santa Claus thing.“
“Santa... Claus?“ If possible, Teal’c had become even more confused.
“Sure. He’s a big, jolly old fat guy who flies around the world in a reindeer-drawn sleigh on Christmas Eve, delivering presents to all the good boys and girls.“
“Reindeer do not fly, O’Neill.“
“His do. They fly around the world, landing on the roofs of houses with children in them. Then Santa slides down the chimney and leaves presents for the good children and lumps of coal for all the naughty ones.“
“Not all houses have chimneys, O’Neill. What of those who live in apartments like Danieljackson?“
“Then he goes in through the windows. Santa always manages to get in somehow.“
“Would not Santaclaus be arrested by your police for breaking and entering, O’Neill? He is obtaining entrance into these houses illegally.“
Jack had to fight to keep a straight face. Of all the questions Charlie had asked as he grew out of believing in Santa, that most definitely was not one of them. “Nah. Santa has an understanding with them. You see, all the police and authorities in the world were children once who were visited by Santa themselves. They wouldn’t take away that experience from other boys and girls, so Santa is left alone."
Teal’c thought about this for a long moment. If he had hair, he would have given the appearance of scratching his head; his expression did not change much, but Jack could tell. “O’Neill, I believe you are... ‘pulling my leg’ I believe the idiom is.“
“C’mon Teal’c,“ Jack cajoled. “Would I do that?“
“Yes,“ was the immediate reply.
The colonel affected an air of being greatly insulted, though he knew the gesture was lost on the Jaffa. Then he conceded the point. “Okay, maybe I might occasionally pull your leg, but I’m not about Santa Claus. Ask anyone. Ask Daniel, or Carter even.“
“Ask me what?“ a new voice joined the conversation, and Jack looked up to see Captain Samantha Carter standing at his elbow. He gestured her to sit down.
“O’Neill has been telling me improbable stories about a man called Santaclaus who flies around the world on reindeer delivering presents to good children. This is not possible.“
“Hey, I never said he rode the reindeer, I said they drew his sleigh.“
Teal’c ignored the interruption. “I believe he his pulling my leg.“
“Carter, tell him that Santa Claus is real!“
Sam smothered a grin. “Well, Santa isn’t exactly real, but the colonel wasn’t pulling your leg either. Santa does exist... in a manner of speaking.“
“I do not understand what you mean.“
“Well, many years ago in the 4th century there was a bishop named Nicholas in a country called Turkey,“ Sam explained. “He was a rich man, and he would anonymously give money and gifts to local impoverished families. Legend has it that there was a man who couldn’t afford dowries for his three daughters. He was even considering selling one into slavery so he could get dowries for the other two.“
This notion shocked Teal’c. Coming from a culture of proud people who are slaves to parasitic beings masquerading as gods, the idea of selling your child into slavery was distasteful to him. He said as much to his two team-mates.
“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, Teal’c,“ Jack said soberly. “Sometimes people would do absolutely anything to put food on the table or coin in their pockets. You can’t tell me that you haven’t seen stuff like that around, Teal’c.“
“Indeed. But I have never seen a parent willingly sell their child into slavery, O’Neill.“
“It didn’t come to that,“ Sam interjected to deflect the argument. “One night the Bishop Nicholas tossed three bags of gold through the window of the man’s house, one for each daughter’s dowry.“
“That was very generous of him.“
“Yes, it was. So much so that when the bishop died, others took up the anonymous gift-giving in his stead. That’s how the legend of Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus, developed over the years into what it is today.“
"Which is, Captaincarter?"
“Just what the colonel told you. A jolly old fat man who flies around the world on Christmas Eve in a sleigh drawn by eight or nine flying reindeer, delivering presents to all the children who where good in the last year.“ Sam paused, watching the nearly imperceptible emotions cross the Jaffa’s face. “Yes, it sounds unbelievable, but children, especially young children, believe it; and while it is commercialised, it’s the spirit of giving that counts, and it’s good to encourage children to hold onto their innocence for as long as they can. NORAD ‘tracks’ Santa on Christmas Eve, as do other flight control centres.“
“And the children of your world believe this?“
“It’s harmless fun, and the kids get a kick out of it—especially the presents.“
“The currant image of Santa Claus is the largely the product of the Coca Cola Company®,“ Jack added.
The point was lost on Teal’c. “So who gives the children their presents if Santaclaus does not supply them?“
Jack shrugged. “The parents, mostly. Sometimes friends of the family. Charities sometimes donate presents to the poor so those children don’t miss out.“
“And the children suspect nothing?“
“Well, as the children grow older, they begin to question things," Sam explained. “They begin to realise, as you say Teal’c, it really isn’t possible. Sooner or later they stop believing, but it’s fun while it lasts.“
“Which is why I don’t want any of you telling Cassie that Santa isn’t real,“ came a commanding voice from slightly above them, and they looked up to see Doctor Janet Fraiser standing over them “She’s quite excited about her fist Christmas, and I won’t have you spoiling it for her.“
“I somehow don’t think she’s the only one who’s excited,“ Sam grinned at her friend. The diminutive doctor flushed a little, but said nothing.
“Isn’t Cassie a little old to be believing in Santa?“ Jack inquired.
“Indeed, I find it difficult to believe that a child of Cassandra’s intelligence, who has lived through what she has lived through, would believe in myths such as Santaclaus,“ Teal’c added.
“To tell the truth, I wasn’t really expecting it,“ Janet admitted. “But she came home from school one dad full of questions about Santa; and she’s so excited about it that I let her go. She may be just humouring me because she thinks it’s what I want, but I’m not going to discourage her. And I better not catch any of you trying to burst her bubble, or you’ll be getting extra large needles from me when you come back from your next mission.“ There was a twinkle in her brown eyes as she said this, belying the stern look on her face; but the three members of SG-1 knew that she was serious in her threat.
“Would we do that?“ Jack asked blandly. He gestured at the table. “Are you joining us for lunch?“
“Thank you, but no. I only came to invite you to a Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. Cassie and I would love to have you.“
“Sure, I’d love to come,“ Sam smiled at Janet.
“You don’t have plans?“
“Dad’s coming over on Christmas Day, but I’m free the night before.“
“Great! Teal’c?“
“I would be honoured to join you and Cassandra for dinner, Doctorfraiser.“
“Colonel?“
Jack wanted to flinch away from the doctor’s hopeful gaze, but he refused to. As much as he wanted to hide away from the whole holiday season, he knew that it wasn’t fair to rain on anyone else’s parade. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it, Doc,“ he said simply.
“Oh,“ Janet sighed. “Other plans?“
It would have been so easy to lie, and say that he did have plans (you could call getting quietly drunk a plan). It would save him from being the object of pity. But it would still be a lie, and Janet Fraiser was shrewd enough to see through such a lie. “Nah. I just don’t really do Christmas anymore. Too many memories. And I don’t really wanna bring anyone else down either, so I think I’ll give it a miss.“
“Are you sure?“ Janet asked. “It would probably be good for you.“
Jack had to look away. Not so much from Janet’s eyes, which were kind enough; but from his 2IC’s, whose blue eyes were a mixture of sympathy, understanding and something else he couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was, it made it hurt somehow, to meet her eyes.
Glancing back up, he found that Janet was still waiting for a response. “Sorry. Like I said, I don’t wanna bring anyone down.“
The doctor gave in, though reluctantly. “All right. But we’ll save some food for you, in case you change your mind.“
He tried to smile. “Unlikely, but I promise to think about it.“
Janet gave the colonel a look before continuing on her way, like she knew she was cozening her. Jack knew Janet was shrewd like that; and in this case she’d be right—he had no intention of changing his mind. He was so lost in his thoughts that it was a while before he noticed that Sam and Teal’c were trying to get his attention. Only when Sam began tossing bits of food at him did he take notice. “You trying to start a food fight, Carter?“
She smirked—a habit she’d acquired from him in the short time they’d worked together. “Not if I’ve got your attention. What are you going to do over the holidays? I hate to think of you being alone.“
Jack shrugged. “It’s better that way. I wallow in my misery alone, and everyone else has a good time.“
“But what will you do?“
He shrugged again. “Work, if I can. It’ll give me something to do. If not, I’ll go home, watch TV, become intimately acquainted with some fine Irish whiskey, and wake with a roaring hangover on Boxing Day.“
Sam shook her head. “Janet’s right, it would be good for you to get out.“
“Nah, I’ll be fine,“ Jack stood, picking up his tray.
Teal’c was looking puzzled again. “Boxing Day. Do you box on Boxing Day?“
Jack saw Sam stifle a laugh at the Jaffa’s question, and hid a smirk of his own.
Let her deal with this one,
he thought. “I need to get back to work, but Carter can tell you all about it.“ No longer hiding his smirk. He lightly tapped Teal’c’s bald head and sauntered off.
As much as Jack wanted to work over the holiday period, General Hammond had other ideas. Deciding that SG-1 had been working too hard recently, he put them on stand down; and knowing what Jack was trying to do, ordered him off the base. Jack found himself practically escorted off base. So it was on to Plan B—watching TV with some fine Irish whiskey.
He hadn’t made much of an inroads into the first bottle when the doorbell rang. He ignored it, and kept on ignoring it when the ringing grew more insistent. When this drew no response from him, the caller reverted to knocking loudly on the door. He inwardly groaned. Go away, he thought.
No such luck. If anything, the knocking grew even louder. “Jack, I know you’re in there,“ Daniel called.
Jack’s groan grew audible. He thought about pretending he wasn’t home, but he knew that the archaeologist was as persistent as hell. “Go away, Daniel,“ he said when he opened the door.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Jack,“ Daniel responded, seemingly oblivious to the older man’s mood.
“What are you doing here, Daniel?“
“I just came to see if you’ve changed your mind about going to Janet’s tonight. There is still time, you know.“
“No, Daniel, I haven’t changed my mind. You of all people should understand why I don’t feel like company right now. I’m surprised that you agreed to go.“
“I understand how you feel, Jack,“ the younger man said earnestly. “Believe me, part of me wants to do the same thing, to hide away for the holidays too. But as much as I miss Sha’re, and wish that I was with her, I know that it doesn’t help to lock myself away and pretend the world doesn’t exist. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’m not denying it, but I know that Sha’re wouldn’t want me to shut myself away. You were the one who told me that. Besides, it would do you good to get out.“
Jack rolled his eyes. “Who have you been talking to? Carter or Doc Fraiser?“
Daniel had the grace too look sheepish. “Both, actually.“
“And they wanted you to try and talk me into going?“
“Well, yeah, but it doesn’t mean none of what I said isn’t true. Sha’re would hate to see me brooding the way you intend to.“
“That’s my choice, Daniel.“
“Yes it is. Tell me something, Jack. Would Charlie have wanted you to hide away over Christmas? I can’t imagine he would have—most kids wouldn’t want their parents hiding away over their favourite holidays.“ When Jack made no reply to this entreaty, Daniel turned and walked away, calling “Merry Christmas, Jack,“ over his shoulder.
Jack did not settle back into drinking after that. Daniel’s words stayed with him, and he knew the archaeologist had a point. Charlie had loved Christmas, and would have been bewildered at what his father was doing. But the thought of carrying on and enjoying the holiday hurt. He didn’t know what to do.
Finally he decided to call the only other person who could truly understand how he felt. “Hello, Sara.“
“Jack,“ surprise was evident in her voice. “Merry Christmas. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.“
“I wasn’t really expecting to call. Um, merry Christmas.“
“I thought you would have been working.“
“I wanted to, but my boss had other ideas. Now I don’t quite know what to do with myself.“
“No parties that you’ve been invited to?“
“Actually, I was invited to go to a dinner party with some of my co-workers. But I didn’t really feel like it, you know?“
“I know. It seems wrong somehow to go on enjoying yourself when Charlie isn’t here to join in.“
“Exactly.“
“But Jack, you can’t keep hiding away over Christmas. You know Charlie wouldn’t have wanted that.“
Damn, Sara was always a mind reader. “You’re not the first person to tell me that, Sara.“
“Well it’s true. He always hated it when you were away over Christmas. I used to have to reassure him that you did do something to celebrate.“
“Really?“
“Uh huh. Why don’t you go to that dinner party, if it’s not too late?“
“I don’t know, Sara.“
“I know it hurts, Jack. It will always hurt on some level. But you need to move past it. I promise you Charlie would approve.“
“I don’t know, Sara,“ he repeated. “I’m not exactly in any condition to be driving at the moment.“
She sighed, and he could hear the resignation in her tone across the wires. “How much have you had to drink?“
“Not that much actually. Barely half a bottle. But it was probably just enough to put me over the limit, and I don’t really want to risk it on these icy roads. I don’t have a death wish any more, you know.“
“So get a cab. Trust me Jack, you’ll feel better for it. I did when Dad dragged me out last Christmas.“
“All right. I’ll think about it, Sara, okay?“
“That’s all I ask, Jack. Merry Christmas.“
“Merry Christmas.“
Think about it Jack did; he found that Sara’s words were haunting him as much as Daniel’s were. Finally, around eight thirty or so, he finally decided that they were right (not that he would ever admit to Daniel). Getting ready to go and hoping that the party wouldn’t be over, he reasoned to himself that he could always say that he was bored of his own company; and it wouldn’t entirely be an untruth.
But before he went to the doctor’s house, he made a stop at the local Catholic church. It felt strange, being there, and crossing himself and all that; he couldn’t remember the last time he went. But he had something important to do. Kneeling in front of the candles, he lit one in Charlie’s name. “Merry Christmas, son,“ he whispered.
To say Janet Fraiser was surprised to find Jack O’Neill on her doorstep would be an understatement. Nonetheless she hid it well. “I was hoping you would turn up,“ she smiled, standing aside to let him in.
“An offering,“ Jack brandished a bottle of red wine. “I hope I’m not too late.“
“Not at all. Cassie is still up, although she’ll be going to bed soon.“
The last remark was aimed at the giggling 11-year-old who was engaged in a game of... something... on the floor with Sam and Teal’c. Jack could not believe that the normally staid Jaffa was even involved; and judging from the archaeologist’s expression, neither could Daniel.
Of course, children never like being reminded that bed time was nigh, especially when they were having fun. Cassie was no exception. “Aw, Mom, I can’t go to bed yet. We haven’t even finished the game.“ The girl looked up at her adopted mother at that point, and let out an excited squeal. “Jack! I thought you weren’t coming!“
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.“
“But you missed dinner,“ Cassie protested, launching herself into his arms.
“That doesn’t matter,“ Janet said, closing the door behind the colonel. “There’s still plenty of food.“
“But first, I have a few surprises here,“ Jack said, putting Cassie down.
“Presents!“ Cassie squealed.
“What makes you say that?“ he demanded. But when he sat on the couch and opened his back pack, sure enough there were presents inside. He had one for each of them—much to the surprise of the others.
“If you weren’t planning on coming tonight, how did you arrange all this, sir?“ Sam asked when he gave her her gift.
“I was gonna give them to you at work. But General Hammond wouldn’t let me come in, so...“ he trailed off. “And we’re not at work now, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Sam.“
“Yes, sir.“
Jack rolled his eyes. He was glad to note that they seemed to like their gifts—Sam and Janet each received a pair of earrings; Daniel a book on Egyptology that Jack was surprised he didn’t already have; Teal’c got a book on American pop culture; and Cassie received various books on Christmas. Some were a little young for her, but others were not.
“How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The Little Drummer Boy. The Night Before Christmas...“ the girl read aloud.
“That’s great, honey,“ Janet placed her hand on her shoulder. “Now it’s time to say good night and go to bed.“
Sam chimed in before Cassie could protest. “You know Santa doesn’t visit little girls who stay up late.“
Cassie sighed. “All right.“
“Before you go,“ Jack started, picking up The Night Before Christmas. “I used to read this to my son on Christmas Eve—when I was home, anyway—and I’d like to read it to you before you go to bed. With your mother’s permission, of course.“
It was Janet’s turn to sigh. “All right.“
Cassie settled on Jack’s lap as he opened the book and began to read. “ ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all though the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...“
|
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
I drew in my head and was turning around,
His eyes, how they twinkled, his dimples, how merry.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
He had a round face, and a little round belly,
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
|
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,“ Cassie repeated delightedly.
“And on that note,“ Jack began firmly, anticipating Janet. “It’s time for you to say good night.“
“Good night, Jack,“ she responded resignedly, giving him a hug and a kiss. She hopped off his lap to bid the others good night, and Jack stood to stretch his legs. He had moved to stand by Sam when Cassie let out another delighted squeal. “Mistletoe!“
Startled, both Jack and Sam looked up. Above their heads, hanging on the doorway, was indeed a sprig of mistletoe. “Oh.“
“You have to kiss now!“ Cassie exclaimed, ginning. “It’s the tradition.“
Jack gave her a mock glare. “Who told you about that tradition, huh?“
“Give it up, Jack,“ Daniel advised. “Cassie caught me and Janet standing under it earlier. She wouldn’t give up until we kissed, and she’ll do the same here.“
Jack looked at Sam. He had misgivings, not the least of which were the regulations that he had to remind himself of each time he realised he was attracted to his beautiful 2IC. But looking at her now, he realised that none of it mattered at that moment. It was Christmas, after all, and it was a tradition.“
Sam seemed to have the same idea. “It’s tradition, sir.“
“Told you before, Sam. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ tonight. Especially now.“ As his lips closed on hers, Jack reflected that he was glad he turned up after all.
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Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
'Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Don we now our gay apparel,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
Troll the ancient Yule tide carol.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
See the blazing Yule before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Strike the harp and join the chorus.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Follow me in merry measure,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
While I tell of Yule tide treasure.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Fast away the old year passes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Hail the new ye lads and lasses.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Sing we joyous all together,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
Heedless of the wind and weather.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
