Gigi Sinclair

Daniel had never seen the point of Christmas.

This wasn't something he mentioned, of course, not since he'd noticed the reaction people had to it. When he said he didn't like Christmas, they-and it didn't matter who they were—tended to think it was because of his Dickensian childhood, and, in true, "It's a Wonderful Life," "Miracle on 34th Street," "Frosty the Snowman" tradition, that all would be well if they showed him what Christmas really was.

To Daniel, it was too much alcohol, too much food, too much pretending to like people you barely tolerated the other eleven months of the year, and too much pressure to find the perfect, exactly socially appropriate, present for those people with whom you exchanged gifts. Which was a huge political situation in and of itself.

Finally, Daniel had decided to rebel and bypass the whole issue. He didn't buy any presents, for anyone, and he didn't accept any. There was no reason to. He wasn't Christian, and Christmas wasn't about that anymore, anyway. There was no one he cared about enough to want to share the so-called "magic of the season." There was no point in pretending.

He "Bah Humbug"ed his way through one Christmas season before he was outcast from the academic community, and his bizarre dislike of Christmas became just one more nutty anecdote in the legend of "crazy Dr. Jackson." On Abydos, Christmas hadn't been an issue. Their local equivalent had been less hyped up, and more centred on family and community togetherness than on crass materialism and over- consumption.

Now that he was back on Earth, Daniel realized, as he was one of only a handful of people who showed up for work on Thanksgiving, that he was going to have to get back into his holiday-ignoring habit. It shouldn't be too hard, he thought, walking through the near-empty halls to his office. This was the military. The top secret military, no less. Surely they had more important things to worry about than Christmas?

***

"Is that a sprig of holly in your pocket, Teal'c, or are you just happy to see me?"

"It is a sprig of holly, O'Neill. Your presence, while not objectionable, does not cause me sexual pleasure."

Daniel looked up from his desk to see Jack, wearing fuzzy felt reindeer antlers, and Teal'c, in a green and red knitted sweater, standing in his doorway. "What are you doing?"

"I was about to ask you that." Jack came in, pulled a candy cane from the pocket of his fatigues, and hung it on Daniel's glasses. Daniel took it off. "Seeing as it's 1700 hours on Christmas Eve and the only people still here are you and Captain Keeler, and Keeler's wife threw him out three days ago."

"I don't celebrate Christmas," Daniel snapped. "You know that." He'd repeated it several dozen times over the past few weeks, starting when General Hammond had announced the annual Secret Santa gift exchange. "Or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Festivus," he added, for Teal'c's benefit.

"Scrooge," Jack accused.

"Idiot," Daniel replied, although even he had to admit, as a comeback, it was less than satisfactory.

In the few months they'd worked together, Jack O'Neill had managed to thoroughly annoy Daniel in every manner imaginable. He was irritating. He was frustrating. He was ridiculous. And Daniel didn't understand why he couldn't stop thinking about him.

"OK, Daniel." Jack held up his hands in surrender. "If that's the way you want to play it, I'll just leave my present here," he produced a small, gift-wrapped box from another pocket and placed it on Daniel's desk. "Come on, Teal'c. I wanna get to Fraiser's before the eggnog drinking contest starts."

"Do you believe you have a chance of being victorious in the competition, O'Neill?"

"Nah. I just want to see Carter whip their asses."

"Jack, I don't want a present," Daniel protested, even as he stared at the little box.

"Tough shit. We'll be at Janet Fraiser's if you feel like showing up." Then he left.

"I believe I speak for the gathering at large when I say we would be pleased if you were to join us," Teal'c commented, once Jack was gone.

"I don't think so, Teal'c."

"Do you grieve the absence of your Abydonian friends?"

Not really, and that was the worst part. "I'm just not into Christmas, that's all."

"As you wish, Daniel Jackson. The offer remains valid." He nodded and left Daniel staring at the little box on his desk.

He didn't accept Christmas presents. From anyone. Certainly not from his co-workers. He remembered his early days in academia, when he'd been forced to buy bookstore gift certificates and coffee mugs for all twenty-eight people in his department, and been forced to get twenty-eight bookstore gift certificates and coffee mugs in return. They'd all been glad when the dean had instituted a "Secret Santa" program, in which they bought gifts for only one person. Daniel already had enough coffee mugs to open his own Starbucks.

This didn't look like a coffee mug, though. Daniel picked it up. It wasn't particularly well-wrapped, with some kind of a lump on one end and an exceedingly long piece of tape winding it's way over the Currier and Ives, one-horse-open-sleigh patterned paper.

Daniel knew he should go and put it in Jack's office. He didn't accept Christmas presents from anyone. Certainly not from his boss. Certainly not from Jack.

Still, he told himself, it was his job to be curious about artifacts, and this was definitely one of the more curious objects he'd seen. What would someone like Jack give as a Christmas present to someone like Daniel? From a scientific point of view, Daniel was fascinated. He would, he thought, be professionally remiss if he didn't investigate further. And, if he opened it very carefully, he should be able to rewrap it and return it to Jack without anyone being the wiser.

Taking one of his small tools, Daniel slid the blade under the tape, and immediately found more tape. Frowning a little, Daniel sawed at the tape until one end of the package opened, and he was able to slide out the box within. It was about eight inches square, Daniel noted, and an inch deep. There was a gold cardboard lid over a white cardboard base. As he eased off the lid, he caught himself holding his breath, and shook his head. It was a Christmas present, he reminded himself, not the Holy Grail.

Only, when he saw it, Daniel was just as surprised as if it had been a priceless work of art. It was a bookmark, the metal kind you hooked over the spine of the book. It looked like it was gold- plated, and there was a painted representation of the head of Osiris at one end. The long, thin part was decorated with hieroglyphs that meant nothing, but looked good.

He knew exactly where Jack had got it. A new store had opened in the mall, "The Pharaoh's Tomb," which sold all sorts of crass, mass- produced pseudo-Egyptian crap. Daniel had gone in once, out of sheer, prurient, car-wreck curiosity, so he was well aware that it was expensive crap.

Daniel had spent his life studying human relationships, but he'd never quite understood them as they related to him personally. Ancient civilizations and extinct cultures he knew very well, but when it came to relating to another living human being of his own culture, he was usually at a loss. This sense of detachment from his own people had become even more pronounced when he came back from Abydos and was thrust into military society, a culture all its own.

He had no idea what a gift like this was supposed to mean. It didn't seem like the kind of thing you'd give a co-worker-it wasn't a gift certificate or a coffee mug-but maybe Jack was a generous boss. Daniel had heard they existed, although he'd never come across one himself. For all he knew, Jack could have given Sam a motorcycle helmet and Teal'c a subscription to the fruit of the month club or something.

That was certainly the simplest explanation. But Daniel had never gone for the simple explanation. The very reason he'd been cast out from the academic world.

The non-simple explanation was that Jack saw them as more than just co-workers. This made sense. Jack cared about all of them, Sam, Teal'c and himself, Daniel knew that. Daniel cared about them, too. They hadn't been together long, but they were closest he'd had to a family since he'd left Abydos. Maybe, Daniel thought, Jack saw them as a replacement family as well. Daniel had never really thought about it, but now that he did, he could believe Jack had been the type of father that really piled on the presents. Maybe the three of them had replaced his wife and son as the victims of Jack's Christmas cheer?

Of course, Daniel thought, examining the bookmark, that was only a viable theory if Jack had given Teal'c and Sam the same kinds of presents. And there was only one way to find that out.

"Daniel!" Daniel didn't know Janet Fraiser very well, but she certainly seemed happy to see him. She swayed a little, nearly dislodging the tinsel in her hair, then said: "C'mon in," and beckoned him, unfortunately with the hand that was holding her drink. She giggled as it splashed onto the carpet, then grabbed his coat and staggered away.

Daniel found Jack, Sam and Teal'c in the living room. Teal'c and Sam were on one of the couches, while Jack was lying on the floor, gazing up at the Christmas tree. He sat up when Sam said,

"Daniel! I knew you would come!" She stood and hugged him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Daniel hugged her back. He liked Sam. She was the first woman since Sha're with whom he'd felt any kind of kinship.

"Daniel Jackson. I am pleased that you elected to join us." Teal'c was next. Daniel expected a handshake, but instead Teal'c grabbed him into another, much stronger, hug. Gasping a little, Daniel patted him awkwardly on the back.

"How's it going?" Jack asked, casually, not moving from his position.

"Fine." Daniel sat on the couch beside Sam. There were a lot of other people around, most of them people he didn't recognize. Pushing up his glasses, Daniel flicked back his long hair (both nervous habits he'd been trying to break for years, and he had just about concluded he would have to get contact lenses and cut his hair to get rid of them) and smiled uncertainly.

"Want a drink?" Jack offered, surprisingly solicitous.

Daniel blinked. "Um, I'm driving. But maybe something non- alcoholic. If Janet has Coke…" He started to stand up, but Jack waved him down.

"Stay there, wild man. I'll get it." He left, pausing to goose Janet on the way.

It was perfect. Daniel could hardly believe his luck. Leaning over, he asked: "Sam, what did Jack get you?"

"What, Daniel?" Sam glanced at him.

"For Christmas." He was struck by a thought. "Have you opened his present yet?" If she hadn't, it would severely interfere with the verification of his hypothesis.

"I didn't get a present from the colonel. Charlie Kawalsky got my name for the Secret Santa. He got me a Harley Davidson wall calendar." She smiled, apparently pleased with this.

"O'Neill received my name in the draw," Teal'c added. "He bestowed upon me a gift certificate to a restaurant known as 'Tony Roma's.' Also a novelty coffee mug that says 'Jaffa do it with big staff weapons.' I will commence consuming coffee as soon as possible."

"I wasn't in the Secret Santa," Daniel said, more to himself than to anyone else.

"You should join in next year," Sam replied. "It's lots of fun."

"Here you go, Big Spender." Jack reappeared, holding a glass of Coke in one hand and a gingerbread officer, complete with icing BDUs and hard silver buttons, in the other. "I got you a snack, too. You can thank me by not telling me to go fuck myself." He smiled, although Daniel felt a twinge of guilt as he took the cookie and the Coke. Was he really like that with Jack?

Well, he determined, if he was, then Jack was just as bad. Worse, even. It took two to tango, he reminded himself, then wondered what the hell he was talking about.

By that time, Jack had reclaimed his spot near the tree. They talked for a while, about meaningless topics and whether Sam should have sent her estranged brother's children a drum set for Christmas. Other people came and joined them, which made Daniel a little uneasy, but they soon moved on, leaving him with the only three people there that he was comfortable with: Sam, Teal'c and Jack. Sure, it was his living to make friends with foreigners, but he'd never met anyone quite so foreign as the members of the United States Air Force. By and large, they reminded Daniel of the people who had bullied him in school, who had resented him in university, and who had rejoiced in drumming him out of his chosen career at the first opportunity. Charlie Kawalsky was like that. He even had the same narrow-eyed, weaselly look of some people Daniel could name at Harvard and at Cambridge, but Sam seemed to like him.

As it neared midnight, people began to make their excuses. Some were travelling the next morning, some were back on duty. Some, Daniel was astonished to find out, wanted to attend Midnight Mass.

Jack wasn't among them. "I had my fill of that when I was a kid. Eight fucking years as the guy with the fucking myrrh. I thought I was in when the guy with the gold got promoted to Joseph, but I was passed over. By my little brother." He shook his head, clearly still devastated. "What is myrrh, anyway?"

"It's a kind of oil," Daniel replied automatically. "These days they use it in aromatherapy."

"Are you shitting me?" Daniel shook his head, and Jack rolled his eyes. "Great. So I spent eight years delivering scented lube to Jesus Christ. No wonder I can't catch a break."

Daniel choked, which, of course, made Jack smirk. Obviously satisfied with himself, he stood up, stretching. "Well, Teal'c, you about ready to take off home?"

"I am, O'Neill. Captain Carter, will you be joining us?"

Sam sighed. "No, someone better make sure our hostess doesn't end up drowning in the toilet."

"Not very festive," Jack agreed. "Daniel?"

"I have my car," Daniel reminded him.

"OK." He smiled easily, stifling a yawn. "Don't forget, dinner tomorrow at my place, if you don't have any better offers. I'm gonna hit the head, Teal'c, then we're out of here."

Daniel frowned, put his hands in his pockets, then pulled them out again. "Are you coming for dinner tomorrow, Daniel?" Sam asked, as she collected glasses.

"Um, I don't know. Maybe." He needed to straighten something out with Jack first.

Janet's bathroom was upstairs, next to the bedroom where she had apparently taken Daniel's coat. From the moaning and occasional strangled screaming going on behind the closed door, Daniel guessed that he was going to have to forget the coat and crank up the heat in the car.

Daniel waited in the hall, trying not to hear, until the toilet flushed, the faucet ran briefly, and Jack came out of the bathroom.

"Hey, Daniel." Jack smiled like he hadn't seen Daniel for several weeks.

Which didn't make this any easier. "Can I…um, can I talk to you?"

"Sure." There was what could only be described as a screech from the bedroom, and Jack's eyebrows went up.

"Shit. My coat's in there."

"Mine too." Daniel licked his lips unconsciously, then realized that maybe wasn't such a good idea. He didn't know anymore.

"Well, we can't talk with that racket going on. Here." Jack pulled Daniel into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

Janet had gone all out with the Christmas decorating. Even here, there were green and red towels on the rack, and Santa-shaped hand soaps beside the sink.

"It's about the present," Daniel blurted, when he realized Jack was waiting for him to say something.

"Oh, yeah." He grinned. "Do you like it? I was at the mall picking up Teal'c's coffee mug and I thought of you."

"Why?" Daniel didn't know how else to ask. He didn't even know what he wanted to hear, he just needed Jack to say that this wasn't what he thought. Or maybe that it was.

"Why?" Jack repeated. "Because it's Christmas. And I know you're a mean one, Mr. Grinch, but I like Christmas."

"Oh." Daniel blinked. "I thought maybe…" He glanced up at Janet's gilt-edged mirror and saw himself blushing.

"Daniel." Jack's voice was surprisingly gentle, which didn't make Daniel feel any more comfortable. He pushed up his glasses and was about to flick his hair when Jack grabbed his wrist. "Don't do that. Get your hair cut if you have to, but that's frigging annoying."

"Sorry," Daniel snapped, frowning. He tried to pull his hand away, but succeeded only in bringing both of their hands down to waist- level.

Which meant that he had to drag his eyes up and look at Jack.

Who suddenly didn't seem so sure of himself, either.

"Daniel, what you thought…" He coughed. "It's not. I mean, it's not necessarily, you know. Wrong." Daniel was still trying to figure that one out when Jack continued: "But I can't tell you that, and you can't hear it. If you know what I mean."

After a few months with the military, Daniel had a pretty good idea. "Yeah." He wasn't sure what else to say.

"But not telling doesn't mean not feeling. Just…" He sighed. "Just remember that, OK?"

Daniel was stunned, but he said: "OK, Jack."

"OK." Jack smiled, then released Daniel's wrist, as if he'd just remembered he was holding it. "Hey, you coming for dinner tomorrow? I've got a great Christmas pudding recipe I picked up when I was stationed in England. You'll never eat pie again."

"That sounds…good." Daniel smiled back. And, for the first time in years, Christmas did, too.

***

"What did you get him?" Sam asked, as she came up beside Daniel.

"A membership in the American Association of Retired Persons."

Sam stared. "Are you serious?"

"No." Because, despite everything he'd been through in the last sixteen years, Daniel still had his testicles, and wanted to keep them. "I got him a bottle of Grecian Formula and a book about trout fishing." Daniel grinned. "You?"

"Janet was going to get him some Viagra, but she chickened out at the last minute." Clearly, Janet was someone else who wanted to keep what was left of her body intact. "So I went in with her, Jonas and Cassie for a gold pocket watch."

"He'll love that."

"You think so?" Sam looked unsure. "It was Cassie's idea. I was worried it would make him feel old."

"He is old, Sam." Fifty-six wasn't a spring chicken in anyone's book. But then, Daniel thought, neither was forty-seven or forty- nine, so he and Sam were in no position to cast stones. "He'll like it, though. Is Cassie coming?"

"She and Nyan are still on their honeymoon. Janet told them they have to be back by Christmas Eve." Daniel hadn't seen that one coming, even when Cassie graduated with her first master's and came to work at the SGC. At first it was strange, but, Daniel had to admit, the more you thought about it, the more natural it seemed. Both Cassie and Nyan were immigrants, working to fit in with their adopted culture. And, while Nyan was eight years older than Cassie, that was something else Daniel was in no position to be offended about. Even her mother had difficulty getting huffy, especially since Janet and Jonas had set up house together.

"Do you need any help with the food?" Sam asked, as Daniel got off the couch and headed over to his kitchen.

"I think I'm all set." When Jack had decreed that he'd be having his retirement party at Daniel's new house, Daniel had objected, at first, and had then gone straight to the caterer's.

"Then I'll go down to the SGC to pick up Teal'c and my dad. I'll be back in time to help you get set up."

"See you later." Sam hugged him and left.

When she'd gone, Daniel tried to remember where he'd put the large and varied amounts of liquor Jack insisted on having. Daniel had indulged him, because it was his retirement party and Jack was going to have a long time to get used to not having anyone to boss around.

Finally, Daniel remembered he, still flush with the novelty of being lord of the manor, had put the bottles in the sideboard in his "library." It was, in fact, an unused bedroom he had filled with his books, the ones he was slowly moving out of his office at the SGC. He hadn't told anyone yet, but now that Jack was gone, Daniel wasn't going to be far behind. He wasn't ready to retire, himself, but after sixteen years, he was ready to move on. Especially now that Nyan and Cassie were ready to take over. He'd never considered Jonas as a successor.

Smiling, Daniel paused in the library and looked around, satisfied. It had taken him a little longer than most, but at forty-seven, he had finally graduated to owning his own home. To be fair, though, he'd been off planet, and legally dead, for several of those years.

Passing the small electric Christmas tree, Daniel went over to the desk, an antique given to him by Jack, who "saw something just like it on the Antiques Roadshow, Danny, and it was worth like thirty grand, but don't get it appraised till I'm dead, OK?" Daniel sat for a moment in his Wal-Mart faux leather chair. Glancing down, he ran his hands over the book he was currently reading, the gold-plated Osiris bookmark, worn now from years of use, hanging over the spine.

He knew he shouldn't open the book, but he did it anyway, and naturally got caught up in the world of the Funnel Beaker Culture. Twenty minutes later, he was still reading when he vaguely heard the ringing of a doorbell. It took him another minute to remember the doorbell was his.

"Jesus, Daniel, I'm freezing my ass off out here," Jack complained, when Daniel finally opened the door, book still in hand. "I thought Oma Desala had taken you back or something." He was joking, but Daniel knew it was still a real fear of Jack's, that Daniel would leave again. As if Daniel would let anyone take him.

"I was in the library," Daniel corrected.

"Ah, died of boredom, then." Jack knocked his boots to clear the snow and kicked them off as he stepped into the house, carefully avoiding the big wreath on the front door. He was wearing slacks, a shirt and a sweater, because he thought he was too old to wear jeans and he'd hung up his fatigues for the last time two days ago. The dress blues were scheduled for one final appearance, at the official retirement party early in the New Year, but for now, Jack stuck to civvies. Daniel didn't know what was more disturbing, that Jack looked like Mr. Rogers, or that Daniel found that sexy.

"Where's my liquor?" Jack demanded.

"The party doesn't start until seven." Daniel glanced at the grandfather clock and saw that it was twenty past four. Already.

"So I'm early. It's my party."

"And you'll bitch if you want to?"

"Hey, I've got to take my chance while there's still someone who'll listen."

"I hate to break it to you, Jack, but no one ever listened."

"Laugh it up, Danny. You're the one who'll have to keep them in line now that I'm gone." He made his way over to the couch and sat down, a little more heavily than usual. Right away, Daniel worried about Jack's knees, but he knew it wouldn't help anything to mention it. They would only get into another argument, and Daniel didn't want to argue today.

Instead, he kept up the banter. "I think I'll leave that to Colonel Carter."

Jack snorted. "Good luck. You won't get her away from her lab long enough to discipline her team." Daniel knew he was kidding. He'd been at Sam's promotion ceremony and he'd seen the tears of pride in Jack's eyes when he pinned on her new rank insignia, even though Jack had tried to pass it off as seasonal allergies. In November. For the first time in his life.

"Then I'll have to tell Nyan to keep a tight hold on the reins."

He could see the gears working in Jack's mind as he opened his mouth reply with another quip, then closed it as he considered what Daniel had actually said. "You…"

"I'm leaving the SGC. Not completely," he added quickly. "I'll stay around as consultant, at least until Nyan and Cassie get the hang of things. I wanted to wait until after the party to tell you." But he'd waited enough. They both had.

"Jeez, Danny. I don't know what to say."

"Really? That's a first. I should have done this years ago."

Jack actually didn't say anything, which was even more surprising. Daniel cleared his throat and, for the first time in years, didn't know how his old friend was going to reply.

When he finally spoke, Jack's voice was uncertain. "I see you've got your bookmark there."

"What?" Daniel glanced down at the forgotten book in his hand. "Oh. Yeah." But that was hardly what he wanted to talk about at the moment.

"I remember when I bought that. I spent weeks agonizing over what to get you."

"I felt kind of bad I didn't have anything for you." Once he'd stopped analyzing the gift itself. Daniel shook his head. Sometimes he couldn't believe how complicated he'd been back then.

Not that he was exactly simple now, he thought, as he desperately tried to read Jack's expression.

"You gave me the best thing you could have." Jack finally looked up at Daniel. "You've been giving it to me ever since."

This was it, Daniel thought. Sixteen years of waiting, and it came down to this. He didn't say anything. They'd spent sixteen years talking. Instead, he sat down on his own couch, next to the man he'd loved through marriage, widowhood, abduction, deception and repeated death, for sixteen years, and kissed him for the first time.

When Daniel finally pulled away, Jack looked stunned, but not surprised. Grinning, Daniel licked his lips. "So, how was that?"

Jack blinked. "A-fucking-mazing."

Daniel nudged him. "You can't swear. You're a retiree."

"Who's about to get a whole lot of geriatric sex, I hope."

Daniel laughed, from happiness, from relief, from the strange, completely alien sensation of finally getting something he'd wanted for a very long time.

Jack reached across and took his hand, squeezing it gently, a look of such tenderness in his eyes that Daniel wanted to kiss him again. Then he remembered he could, and was about to do so, when Jack said: "Not telling doesn't mean not feeling."

"I remembered." Not all the time. There had been a lot of straying over the years, on both sides, but in the end, they always came back to each other. That was what made this relationship unique in Daniel's life. Jack was always there. And from now on, Daniel would be, too.

"Well," Jack continued, "I'm telling you now." He inched forward again and, in the moment before their lips touched again, he whispered: "Merry Christmas, Daniel."

Daniel decided he loved Christmas. Although not quite as much as he loved those three precious letters that had appeared behind General Jonathan O'Neill's official military designation: (ret.)