All I Want For Christmas
We have a tradition for Christmas Eve; we to whom 'family' is something of a tricky word meaning people you try and avoid for one reason or another, or simply people you haven't got - and we to whom 'Christmas' means 'curious Earth custom' as well.
Janet has Cassie, obviously; but Daniel has no one, I have people I'd rather not see and who would rather not see me because who wants to ruin Christmas with another argument? For the Colonel I think the whole issue of Christmas and families is unspeakably hard to deal with, and any attempt to explain the festival to Teal'c swiftly becomes a philosophical and cultural minefield. Jonas of course latched onto it immediately and was therefore invited back to Earth as this year's guest of honour.
We've made Christmas Eve our own, because when it comes right down to it, we have all come to regard each other as family, and that's what Christmas is supposed to be all about. When you share the best kept secret on the planet, it tends to make you a little close and exclusive. So we've made Christmas Eve into our most treasured and familial party, involving beers, pizza, videos, card games and relaxation.
And so, this year, after Cassie had been sent to bed, and Daniel had won at Scrabble, and we had all given up trying to explain the rules of Monopoly to Jonas, I found myself walking home alone once again.
It was snowing slightly - not much, it never does in Colorado Springs, and none of it was settling - and the streets were beautifully silent and still. There was no sound but the faint murmur of the wind and the rustle of bare tree branches. I could see my breath misting in front of me, and the sparkling colours of thousands of fairy lights in windows and draped around trees in people's gardens. Christmas was undeniably in the air - a glorious magical stillness that calmed my spirit and left me full of wonder. Even when I eventually reached home, I stood outside for an age, just living in the hush of Christmas Eve.
Eventually, with a sigh, I went inside and dropped my jacket on the sofa, and before I did anything else I went into the kitchen, took a specially-selected piece of mistletoe and hung it over my front door. It was a tradition of my mother's, one that I kept up after she died, even when Christmas was reduced to just me and dad arguing with each other, or just me on my own. I remember what my mum told me when I was little, when I would go outside to help her hang it up - which meant that she would pin the mistletoe to the doorframe and I would kick about in the garden, watching her.
"Don't forget it Sam; every year," she would say. "Just in case some one you really love turns up on the doorstep - you'll be under the mistletoe, and they'll have to kiss you."
Of course, it never happened. But I still do it every year, all the same, just in case.
When that was done, I put on my pyjamas and a long, woolly cardigan; I made myself some hot chocolate, dug out a CD of Choral Christmas Carols, and sat alone on my sofa listening to Ding Dong Merrily On High and Angels From The Realms Of Glory. In my slightly euphoric mood, it almost DID sound like angels singing, and an unfamiliar sense of peace and security crept over me. The stresses of everyday work and hardship went out on a tide of half-holy words and voices, and the softness of the music lulled my mood so that, for the first time in almost forever, I felt content and at peace and strangely, quietly happy.
I was startled out of my Christmas meditation by a ring on the doorbell. Sighing, I headed into the hall and flung the door open with a smile. It was Colonel O'Neill.
For a second I just stood there, struck dumb by surprise.
"Colonel. Hi," I managed, clutching my enormous cardie around me. "You're out late."
"Yeah. I know," he said. "I've... I've got a present for you."
This was more than my sleepy brain could handle. "You've given me a present already, sir," I said with a frown.
"I know," he said again. "This is something, uh... special. Well, I wasn't sure if I should give it to you. I mean, it's a bit... Well, it's kinda... Well, you'll see," he finished lamely. "Here."
He handed me a little jewellery gift box, the red kind that you get in jewellers' shops. I flipped it open, and gasped. The sight inside literally took my breath away.
It was a perfect, beautiful diamond ring. I have no idea how much it must have cost, but I had no doubt that the gold would be 24 carat, and I could tell that the diamonds were real, one large one and a gathering of smaller ones around it. It was gorgeous.
I was too stunned to even speak. I could see now what 'a bit' and 'kinda' it was. It was kinda romantic, a bit close to the mark.
I pulled it out of the box and slipped it onto my finger - the fourth finger of my left hand, the wedding ring finger, where it fitted perfectly. In some sort of daze, I wondered how on Earth the Colonel could have known my ring size. But it was a foolish question. Jack knows everything about me.
"It's beautiful," I said at last. "It's perfect."
It was an engagement ring. Any fool could see that. That's probably the label it had in the shop, and it's certainly how I saw it, and what the Colonel wished it could be. Looking down, I saw the diamonds splinter into sparkling rays of light as tears filled my eyes.
"I just thought that it's about time I gave it to," said Jack, "I've had it for a while..."
I looked up into his eyes, completely unable to speak. My mind had gone numb and run away to hide long ago. As if in a dream I stood there, watching the snow fall softly in the Colonel's hair, barely a foot from where I was standing, and yet, as always, completely out of reach.
"I love you," he said softly. "And if I thought for one second that I deserved you, or that I could make you happy, I'd drop everything and marry you tomorrow. And that's the truth. Because it's Christmas."
"I love you," I murmured, tears touching my cheeks. "You would make me happy."
Then a thought occurred to me, drifting through the shiny mist that my mind had become.
"Jack," I said softly, pointing upwards. "We're under the mistletoe."
Thank you, Mum. I knew it would happen one day.
Jack followed my prompt and glanced up. "Right," he said. Then he ran his hand along my cheek, and through my hair, and pulled me into a kiss: gentle, passionate, and absolutely perfect. When he pulled away from me, I felt like my life was leaving me too. "Enough?" I asked him.
"Never," he breathed in reply.
"Merry Christmas," I whispered.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered back. Then he turned and walked away.
As I watched him walk off down the path, it struck me how marvellously like a romantic movie this was, what with the carols and the still-drifting snow and the mistletoe. I would let him leave, of course: I had to; it was the rules, not only of the military but also of the romance. This was how it had to be.
But as I stared after him, I suddenly realised that we had just been more open and honest with each other than we had ever been. No walls, no emotional barriers, just the truth. And I could leave it at that, and let him walk away, keeping this one perfect moment as a cherished memory, a reminder of what might have been.
And I would be a total fool if I did.
If Christmas is a time for honesty, it is also a time for decisiveness; for action. I was through with dreaming. Probably I would never get another moment as perfect as this. There was something that I wanted for Christmas: an Angel from the Realms of Glory with grey hair, brown eyes, and a smile that could melt my heart.
"Jack!" I called down the path. "Jack, wait!"
He turned to look back at me, the last of the snow still falling softly in his hair.
"Will you... stay for a little while?" I asked.
For a moment I thought he would say no, and I stood on the doorstep holding my breath, willing my life to turn out right for once, wishing with all my heart and soul that he would come back to me.
And he did. He turned back, and walked slowly up the path and inside the house.
"Do you want-" I began, but the Archangel Jack placed two gentle fingers on my lips, silencing me.
"Just don't say anything," he told me. Then he pulled me into his embrace, and I kissed him fiercely, revelling in the taste of him, in the feel of his hair between my fingers and his arms strong around my waist, his hands tangled in my hair and brushing at my neck, his lips and tongue warm against mine, catching at my heart, drawing me closer to him and taking me over.
When you finally get what you've been waiting for, it's a feeling like no other; the sweetest thing in the world. I got what I wanted for Christmas this year, and I don't care how much trouble it causes come January. Deck the halls with boughs of holly, and hang up some mistletoe over the door. You never know where it might lead.
Story Notes: Copyright: The characters aren't mine, but the story is copyright to Gen, April 2004 (warrior_of_gondor@hotmail.com).
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DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]