Entertaining Angels Novella – Chosen Hearts Series S1
CHRISTMASTIMECHRISTMASTIMECHRISTMASTIMECHRISTMASTIMECHRISTMAS
PROLOGUE
Humankind,
`Tis Christmastime
Peace on Earth, good will toward men
Lo, beware of whom you disregard or entertain
Be there angels in your midst . . .
DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
Now, ascended, Daniel continues his time-travel romp with Oma to further understand why the Ancients consider Jack and Sam to be the Galaxy's last hope to save humanity, and more importantly are Chosen Hearts.
Season 6: 2002
"Should I be tired, Oma?" Daniel yawned.
"No. Ancients don't need sleep, Daniel."
"Well, I miss sleeping and Jack's bed looks darn comfy."
"You amuse me, Daniel Jackson."
"Glad one of us is laughing." He transformed into human form and jammed his hands in his imaginary pockets, then displayed his best pout.
"Nor do Ancients pout."
"Well, it's Christmas Eve morning and if this is what I think it is, I've ever reason to sulk."
"This was your first Christmas with SG-1."
"Yeah, I went skiing in Aspen with friends to temporarily forget Sha're's fate and . . ." he winced.
"Yes?"
"And I sprained my right ankle. Boy, that hurt worse than a clean break. I mean, to this day, it still aches. And then I got food poisoning. I will never again eat fruitcake."
"You no longer have a need to eat." She looked at him oddly. "Nor do you suffer from human illness, Daniel."
"Maybe not, but I remember. But then never having sprained anything or endured food poison you wouldn't know what I'm talking about?"
"No, I would not."
"Well, it hurt like a son-of-a-gun and the stomach pain, man, I thought I was going to die."
"You are ascended, Daniel." Oma floated over Jack's bed.
"You're so not listening to me." he groused.
"Daniel, I always listen to you."
"Well, that's what you say now, but I bet our hovering around Jack's bedroom has nothing to do with my lousy Christmas?"
"You are correct. This has to do with Jack and Sam's lousy Christmas."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. But, as I recall, we all spent Christmas day together, including Cassandra. And there wasn't anything lousy about it, except my sprained ankle, the flu and—."
"Daniel?"
"What?"
"This isn't the Daniel Jackson show. So cease complaining and observe your lonely friend's restless slumber."
Daniel snorted and watched the older man toss and turn. He'd never seen anyone so unsettled, even asleep.
"He does look miserable."
"Because he is." Oma responded.
"And I'm to fix that, how?" He felt unqualified for the task. Let's face it fixing Jack O'Neill was no simple job.
"It is not your job to fix his life, Daniel. That's what free will is about. Jack must choose his own path."
Daniel hated when Oma read his thoughts. "Oh, here we go again." Daniel flew over and stretched out on the empty side of Jack's bed. The fluffy pillow called to him and he dropped his head on it, through it, etc. No longer being of solid matter had grown old quick. "Then why are we here?"
"To watch and learn, Daniel. Despite his bravado, Jack O'Neill is insecure. He fears others, including, you will discover, the real Jack O'Neill. The Keeper of the Stars has plans for this self-effacing human. Much like you, Daniel, Colonel O'Neill possesses immense potential. He just needs the right person to encourage, love, and accept him for whom he is."
"Me?"
"Well, yes, as his best friend he will need you in his life, but I speak of two others."
"Sam and Cassandra?"
"Yes."
"Why am I not surprised? This is after all, the Sam and Jack show."
"For now, yes."
"Look, their working relationship won't allow them to get it on romantically."
"And what have man-made laws to do with the hearts of two people or the designs of The Keeper of the Stars?"
Daniel looked to where his best bud hugged a pillow to his chest and muttered incoherently. Jack looked like a lost child in need of someone to love and hug. Daniel smiled at the female Ancient.
"In the memorable words of one Jack O'Neill, not a fricking thing, Oma."
CHAPTER ONE
1997: Christmas Eve dawn, Colorado Springs
Jack awoke to the singing voice of one of his favorite artists, Michael Crawford. Just one problem, Broadway's original Phantom of Opera was singing a Christmas carol. Jack should have shut the radio off, but lay alone in bed and listened to what he wanted most in life, to spend Christmas with someone he loved.
`Christmastime and boughs of holly/Yuletide logs and mistletoe/And meadows frosty white/And faces in the firelights glow/Sounds of happy children's voices/Singing carols that you love to hear/Then the silence of the night/and the winter air so still and clear/Feels like you reach out and touch the sky/Or catch a star and fly away/Feels like you could wish for peace on earth/And all at once/It would come, someday/Family and friends together/Feel a special kind of love and cheer/Sharing all the joys of Christmas time/The very best time/The very time of year/It's the most wonderful time/Of the Year/There'll be much mistletoeing and hearts will be glowing/When loved ones are near/It's the most wonderful time/Of the year . . .when loved ones are near.'
"If only."
1000 Hours
Saint Mary's Cathedral:
Stepping into the old cathedral, Jack leaned over to catch his breath. He'd not run off base in weeks and his aching chest and cold limbs made him realize he wasn't forty anymore. He decided to sit a few minutes, catch his breath and warm up before making the jog home.
"Father Alan?" Jack squinted when the priest in a traditional black robe walked by him.
"Father Alan's busy. I'm Father O'Malley. Can I help you, Colonel O'Neill?" replied the younger priest.
"No, um, I --." Jack gaped. He could have sworn he'd just been looking at Father Alan.
"Yes?" The shorter, medium framed man smiled and stepped over to the pew from which Jack had risen.
"How'd you know my name?" He scratched his lower spin.
"Goes with the job. You're little Charlie O'Neill's father."
"Oh," he mouthed, "Yes. Charlie died over two years ago."
"Yes, I'm sorry. You have my condolences. Charlie's such a delight to have around and . . ."
"Excuse me. My son's dead." Jack snapped with bitterness he'd thought long gone, apparently not.
"In this world, yes, but he's alive and happy in heaven with Jesus."
"If you say so." Jack fisted his hands at his side, wishing he'd never talked to this odd little priest who seemed strangely familiar.
With a curious look, Father O'Malley cocked his brown head of fine hair that appeared slicked back with hair oil. "You doubt God's existence or that of heaven?"
"Look, if you knew what I've experienced these last few years, you'd understand why I don't know what to believe."
"And yet you are here in God's house."
"Old habits die hard. Besides, I needed to warm up." Jack slapped his chilled arms that were sleeved with his black sweat jacket.
"If you say so." The priest smiled a little too angelic for Jack's taste.
"So, Father, are you related to Joe the owner of O'Malley's Bar and Grill?"
"No. But I know Joe and please call me Chuck."
"Okay, Chuck, so you're fresh out the seminary huh?"
"In a manner of speaking."
Jack liked the little guy, but something bugged him. "Ya know you look and sound like Bing Crosby."
"Bing who?"
"A famous singer and actor from the forties and fifties. Made the song `White Christmas' part of the Christmas tradition."
"Sorry, never heard of him, but I know a Harry Crosby. Any relation?"
"Don't think so," Jack scratched his damp head for his expertise of musical trivia. Oddly, the name, Harry, struck a cord, but why he didn't know.
"Well, I assume the comparison is a compliment?"
"For sure, Chuck." Jack grinned, despite his dour mood. Fifty years back, this young guy could have been passed off for the crooner's twin.
"Thanks, Jack."
Strange. An involuntary shudder tracked his spine. "Well, considering I don't remember you, Father, I'm glad one of us has a good memory."
"Recalling names isn't as important as memories, Jack. Cherish them, especially those of little Charlie. When you meet again in heaven, you two can fish that pond with no pesky fish and reminisce like a father and son."
"So, you believe I'm going to sing with the angels?" Jack turned cynical.
"I believe that decision is between you and The Keeper of the Stars, my son. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's my time to man the confession booth. Is that why you're here?"
No." He glanced upfront where the children's Christmas pageant rehearsal was in full swing. "Just reminiscing."
"A worthwhile endeavor this time of year. Hopefully, you'll be at the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services."
"Don't count on it, Chuck."
"Well, that's your decision, Jack."
"Ya think?" He snorted, still pondering how much the man looked and sounded like old Bing. Darned if he could recall the name of that movie where Bing played a Catholic priest.
"Oh, there you are." An adorable girl with shoulder-length curly brown hair approached them.
"Yep, here I am." Father Chuck chuckled and gestured to a perplexed Jack, who was figuring out how she'd snuck up on them. She'd do well in Black Ops, he mused.
"You're needed, Clar, um, I mean Father Chuck." She said to the priest and smiled shyly at Jack.
"But I just arrived," he seemed annoyed.
"He knows." She tugged the priest's forearm, while staring at Jack as if he had broccoli between his teeth. He ran his tongue beneath his lips, nope, no broccoli.
"This is Colonel O'Neill."
"With two L's," Jack grinned.
"Ah, huh." Her round blue-gray eyes reminded him of Sam's, but her facial features were similar to Charlie's. Weird.
"And you are?" Jack leaned forward for a better view. He figured she was about eight-years old.
"G-r-a-c-e," her voice rasped softly as she twisted the long sleeve of her white dress.
"A pretty name for a pretty girl." Jack's heart tugged in the most wondrous way. He wanted to know more about her.
"Grace is new here." Chuck cleared his throat as if uncomfortable with her presence and the situation.
"Well, Grace, I think you'll like Colorado Springs and Saint Mary's.
"Yeah, I wish I could stay longer." She glanced at Father Chuck who shook his head at her. That was a no, if Jack ever saw one.
"But I came to see you." She smiled at Jack.
"You mean, Father Chuck?" He glanced from one to the other. Something' strange going down here, old man.
"No. You, Da, um, Jack."
"How'd you?"
"You're older than I imagined." She continued with a cute lisp, "But age doesn't matter to my mom. She loves your graying hair, thinks you're funny—"
"Excuse me?" Jack's gut started to ache and his hands directed invisible traffic.
"Time to go, Grace." Father O'Malley sternly intervened.
"Okay," she exhaled, "I suppose, I shouldn't overstay my visit."
"No, you should not," the priest made a shooing gesture.
"But you're suppose to come back soon." She winked at the priest.
"I will." He returned the wink.
"Goodbye, Jonathon James O'Neill with two ll's." She smiled warmly at him.
"Yeah, bye, Grace. Hope to see you again." He meant it.
"Oh, you will." She giggled and skipped off down the isle, humming what sounded like, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
"Extraordinary kid," Jack ventured.
"You have no idea." Father O'Malley rubbed his brow.
"Care to explain how she knows my Christian name?"
"Like you said she's extraordinary. So, um, Jack, is there someone you want to spend Christmas with?"
Talk about a curve ball. "Yes. But that won't be happening." He settled back pondering Grace. So many things about her seemed familiar. If he could figure out what and why, he'd feel better. When, the priest sat down beside him, Jack folded his hands in his lap then stared at his wet running shoes. His damp feet were freezing. This conversation had turned too personal. Time to exit.
"Why?" Chuck casually asked.
"Um, coz, she's outta town." He shrugged realizing he was sharing far more than he was comfortable for him. He looked about for Grace. It was as if she'd evaporated into thin air. He didn't see he anywhere.
"You didn't go with her?"
"Who?"
"The woman you're in love with."
"No." For crying out loud, this guy had a foot long schnoz. "That's just the way it is, Father." He glanced about for a means of escape and spotted the emergency exit. That could work.
"There's an expensive fine for setting off the emergency alarm, Jack."
He flinched. Geez, the man reads minds too!
Father O'Malley seemed to consider Jack's comment. "Says who?"
"Whom," he corrected. "And so says United States Air Force military protocol. She's my subordinate and we are not allowed to fraternize in the Biblical sense."
"Ah." The priest nodded with a slight frown. "I'm aware of the regulations, Colonel. But celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus with those you care deeply for is not breaking the rules of fraternization. Remember, nothing is impossible with God. I suggest that you ask Him to make a way for you to be with the ones you love. You might be surprised at His answer. After all, Samantha Carter is your chosen heart."
Before Jack could retort, the priest rose and strolled off singing, "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know . . . " on key, no less.
A bit odd, don'cha think, Jack? He knows about you and Sam. Jack stared down the church's center isle. The man had vanished, just like Grace. Great! Now I'm conversing with a dead Bing Crosby, who . . .played Father Chuck O'Malley in the movies, Going My Way and The Bells of Saint Mary. That trivia hit him like a Mack truck. Oy! What were the odds? Carter would know. But then Carter didn't believe in God. Jack did.
Limbs shaking, he knelt and bowed his head in prayer. "Okay, Lord, if you wanted my attention, you've got it. I want to spend Christmas with Carter and Cassandra. And considering Sam's in D.C., and Cassandra's in L.A., well, I'm not holding my breath. Amen. Oh, and happy birthday."
A calm peace sluiced over Jack and he settled in the shadows to get warmer, or so he told himself, while he observed the dress rehearsal.
Jack's peered to the choir loft, well so much for the confession booth. The children's choir coach was Father O'Malley's whose Bing Crosby's voice echoed back to him. "Now, kids, we'll take it from the top and this time let's keep the days straight, okay?"
Eager heads nodded as Father Chuck led them into a traditional Christmas song,
"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree/On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me/Two Turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree/On the third . . ."
Jack stuck a finger in each ear, shook his head and stretched his mouth. There had to be a wax build-up, coz the priest still sounded like Crosby. When he unplugged his ears, nothing had changed.
"On the fourth day of Christmas . . ."
"Oh, for crying out loud," he groused, then reasoned it odd a nonreligious song would be sung in church. But then times are a changing, Jack. Yeah. Between chorus's, cheerful sounds of children's laughter reverberated like music through the beautiful, old cathedral, morning's sunlight reflecting off the multicolored stained-glass windows. They didn't build them like this anymore. He'd forgotten how often he'd used to come here with Sara and Charlie, and sometimes by himself.
He wasn't certain how his morning jog had brought him here. True, the church was only three blocks from his house, but he hadn't been here in months, maybe even years. Seasonal memories, he supposed, and the comfort of familiarity that had clawed its way up from the abyss of his soul, where he sealed his emotional waste.
Jack shifted in the pew and peered at the joyful chaos. Spotting some familiar faces, he slinked lower in the pew. He didn't want to be recognized. Didn't want another encounter with his past. Parish members decorated the twenty-foot blue spruce with lights and handmade ornaments. Parents setup the last pieces of the life-size manager scene. He kept looking for one particular face, but didn't see her. Sara.
He'd thought, okay, so, he'd assumed, um . . . what was that cliché about he some one whom assumes? Oh, yeah, he makes an ass out of U and Me. So what's new, Jack? He'd figured Sara would have been here directing the kids, making certain Charlie didn't pull any trademark O'Neill antics on Sister Bertha . . . Crap! When tears stung the back of his eyelids, he vaulted for the double doors and kept running. Two blocks later with his aching lungs straining for oxygen he stopped to lean against an old tree. His previously injured right knee throbbed its objection to the strenuous activity. A Goa'uld sarcophagus would be handy about now.
So much for a merry trip down memory lane, jackass. What'd you think to gain visiting old haunts, besides ghosts of dead actors? Time to move on and get a life, like Sara suggested months ago. According to her father, his ex-wife had moved on, gotten a life and a steady boyfriend. Good for Sara.
Dang, he should have gone to the cabin where'd he have been preoccupied shoveling snow, chopping wood, and keeping the stone fireplace going. That way he'd wouldn't notice Christmas come and go . . . Nah, if he had his druthers, he'd have gated to one of those tropical moons with sandy white beaches and ocean breezes, but General Hammond hadn't taken his request seriously. Smart man, the General.
Yeah, Jack could see that mile long beach about now. Teal'c perched cross-legged under twin suns getting high in his state of Kel'No therapy while acquiring a much-needed tan. Daniel, under a palm tree, reading a musty old book and devouring melted candy bars. And then there'd be Samantha Carter wearing an itsy, bitsy, teeny weenie yellow polka dot bikini in Jack's arms and . . .Wow! Where'd that hot vision come from? Clearly, not from the head on his shoulders and not an appropriate wish for the Christmas season. Yeah, that random, but too frequent vision was bound to get him in trouble that he so didn't need.
It was hard to believe a few months ago they'd been planning a romantic weekend at his cabin, alone. He'd asked her since then, on downtime, and she continued to turn him down. Of course, that'd also been a part of their agreement. He'd keep asking and she keep saying no, until she could actually say yes, and mean it. One of these times he would ask her while on duty, under the scrutiny of a security camera and audio. Oh, yeah, he couldn't wait to see her expression, and here her fumbling reply. He wondered if she'd shot him afterward, on downtime, of course.
After all, he and Sam had agreed. No more personal fraternization, which he regretted big time. Keeping clear of the woman he loved proved far more agonizing than he'd ever imagined. There was a hole in his heart that only Sam's thousand watt smile could stuff. But they'd accepted a lot of changes of late. Including no more base closet dates. Their last closet meeting had been the Wednesday before Turkey day. That discussion led to a hot tongue dueling kiss. It also led to an innocent team gathering at Sam's house for Thanksgiving and almost landed the couple in her bed after Daniel and Teal'c left two hours earlier than planned. He sometimes wondered if the guys knew.
Anyhow, that couldn't happen again, being alone with Sam, at least not that way. Why did he have to be so dang chivalrous? Because were he was anything else Sam wouldn't be in love with him. Man, he so needed to hear three words from her soft lips. It'd been, he glanced at his watch, forty-nine hours since they'd parted for the week and actually said, `I love you.'
Crap! Christmas without Carter, sucked.
Jack took solace knowing she would spend the holiday in Washington with the infamous Wizard of Oz, Jacob Carter, who Jack hoped never learned the truth about Zorro. Sam assured him that she'd not bring up his name on a personal level. Jack insisted she not mention him at all. He preferred to keep his manhood intact. Meanwhile, Sam hated lying to her dad about what she did at N.O.R.A.D. Deep space telemetry, my eye.
At least SG-1 planned for a team get-together New Year's Eve and would then exchange Christmas presents. Jack had made elaborate plans for that night concerning Sam, and hoped it wouldn't backfire. For now, he missed his brainy blonde and hoped she was having a good time with her father, while he, the love of her life, wallowed at home in self-pity. His only expectation was that she would call and wish him Merry Christmas tomorrow morning. Yeah, that'd be the best present ever.
Tapping down his emotions and sucking in a deep breath, Jack shoved to his feet and limped home, another lonely place. His thoughts returned to Christmases past. Crap, he missed Charlie. Missed what he no longer had and doubted to ever have again, that secure commitment of love and a family, maybe, someday with Carter. If only.
When he sniffed a sinus-full, Jack reasoned that the surplus mucus in his nostrils and eyes--a chemical reaction to the minus ten-degree wind chill factor combined with . . .Oy, for crying out loud, Jack, now you sound like Carter! Go figure! He missed her more than he'd have imagined and it'd only been two flipping days. He almost wished they'd gotten stuck on some purple-people eater planet together. Say that five times without stuttering, sir," his 2IC giggled inside his head. Man, he needed a beer!
Jack had at least expected to visit Cassandra at Doctor Fraiser's, but Janet had taken the eleven-year old to meet the Fraiser clan in California this morning. So much for watching the alien preteen open her first Christmas presents. Jack's heart twisted. He thought about Cassandra a lot, even before the holidays had arrived. Jack and Sam took turns playing chess with her. When not off world, he visited Cassandra every week. Knowing the impressionable girl needed a positive male role model Janet encouraged their one-on-one together time.
With his loss over Charlie still difficult, Jack had hesitated to play father to the adorable orphan. He'd suggested General Hammond, even Daniel were more qualified. But Sam and Doc Fraiser insisted Jack fit their criterion. Besides, Cassandra preferred Jack and, whether or not he admitted it, he looked forward to their weekly outings. He'd come to love Cassandra like his own. He'd felt an undeniable bond with her the moment he spotted her cowering behind those bushes on the planet Hanka. He'd yet to tell anyone, even Sam, that he'd felt as if a missing link from his heart had been found. Her name was Cassandra.
Lately though, Cass had started calling Jack, dad. Concerned, they'd consulted Doctor McKenzie. The base shrink said that for now they should let Cassandra work out her insecurities, and if calling Jack, Dad, helped, so be it. Strangely, Jack didn't mind, but he worried about Fraiser, whom he was just getting to know. And then there was Sam. She seemed to flinch whenever Cass called him that intimate address. Jack knew how much Sam had wanted to adopt the girl. They'd even admitted it'd almost be worth getting married over, but that discussion had been brief and pointless. Their careers wouldn't allow it, nor would the flipping Goa'uld war. Still, it didn't mean Jack couldn't fantasy, and he suspected Sam did as well.
With pleasant thoughts of the brown-haired girl, Jack entered his empty house and felt more alone than ever. Oh, he could have visited Grandmother O'Neill and Jack's dad's younger siblings, but he'd feel the odd man out. All his cousins were married with kids. Last Christmas when he'd attended, there'd been almost eighty folks in the O'Neill Minnesota homestead house. The last thing Jack needed was another O'Neill clan pity party.
He had hoped SG-1 could have spent Christmas together. But, Daniel had skiing plans with a former college buddies. And, although curious about earth's religious holiday, Teal'c declined Jack's invitation to go north, young man. The Jaffa needed a life.
Jack shrugged off his sweats and running shoes, took a shower and then sought to quench his thirst. Well, it's almost noon, beer qualifies for a lunch beverage. Stocking footed, he wandered through the empty house with a beer and bag of chips. Eventually, he settled on the sofa in front of the cold fireplace, where he'd set the only evidence of Christmas, wrapped gifts. After making up his mind, he trudged down into his basement and hauled the decorations and ornaments he'd purchased last year after Christmas. Yes, he'd braved the day after Christmas sales. Never again! He'd rather endure a Goa'uld pain stick before battling thousands of sale-frenzied females for a battered box of Christmas tree lights.
As he hauled up the last container, Jack grew more melancholy. No Sam, Cassandra, Janet, Teal'c or Daniel. Not even Hammond to annoy. No family. Man, if he had one nearby, that's where he'd be hanging for the holidays. Maybe he should suck it up and board a plane for Minnesota?
"Geez, Jack, just throw a pity party and get over it, will ya?" But he refused to let himself sink that low.
No way. Boxes opened and decorations strewn about, he looked at the empty corner of his living room, where the perfect Christmas tree would look nice. He knew the pickings on the tree lots were slim by now, but hey, he'd get in the Christmas spirit even it killed him. While one single wish occupied his heart and mind, to spend Christmas with Sam and Cassandra, Jack shrugged into his old flight jacket and headed for town.
~*~
CHAPTER TWO
Rubbing her chilled arms, Sam wandered the Christmas tree lot. Without a single holiday decoration in her possession, she wondered why she was here. To be with people, Sam. Heaven knew she didn't want to be alone. She sniffed a tear.
He'd invited her to his cabin, again. She'd declined, again. Stupid pride. Stupid regs. Stupid love. Of all the gorgeous men in the galaxy why had she fallen head-over-heels for Colonel Jonathon J. O'Neill? Why did he seem to be the Ying to her Yang? And why was she walking around this tree lot near his house, hoping to run into him? The odds were so outrageous she didn't even bother with the math, not that she couldn't. Another problem, as her CO reminded her weekly, like only two days ago, when he'd visited her lab for the third time that afternoon.
"Got that mineral report for me, Carter?"
"Working on it, sir. If you go away, I'll finish faster."
"I'm bored." He tapped his fingers on her counter and looked around, noticing she'd put all her gadgets out of his immediate reach. "I'll just wait here." He wandered the room and ended up staring over her shoulder. "Decomposition's spelled wrong—"
"That's what the spell checker's for."
"Wow, so there's a program for spelling?"
Not amused, Sam grit her teeth. "With all due respect, sir, go annoy Teal'c or Daniel."
"I think they're hiding." He strolled to the front of her desk leaned forward, perched his chin on his tented hands then yawned.
"I can't imagine why."
"Funny." He sniffed, then dropped on the stool beside her, began to spin around then started to whistle, Dixie.
Desperate to finish her report, Sam sighed and shook her head. "Is your mission report done, sir?"
"What mission report?" he stopped revolving and looked confused. He wasn't. Then as if to further perturb her, he picked up a delicate magnifying lense, jammed it against his left eye socket, and mimicked a believable British accent, "I say, Watson, care to join me for a spot of tea and crumpets?"
Dropping her head to the desktop, Sam mumbled, "Thinking, sir."
"Carter, I'd be amazed if you ever stopped." When he relaxed his facial muscles, the costly spectacle tumbled from his eye. Sam rescued the lense before it hit the counter then gave her CO a parental scowl as she placed it safely in her desk drawer.
"What?" He whined.
"I just realized that you never outgrew puberty, sir."
"And your point, Carter?" He winked and those delicious dimples tucked deep along his mischievously smile. Crap, she'd been hook-winked, again!
Sam sighed at that special Hallmark memory. True, they couldn't touch, kiss or make love, but Jack continued to give Sam something he rarely gave anyone else, himself, no holds barred. Man, she missed him. Missed his twinkling brown eyes and boyish smile that were hers alone.
A winter zephyr invaded her short-waist jacket and she shivered. She must buy something for this frigid Colorado weather. A lined leather jacket or coat would do well and don't forget the matching gloves, Sam. She stomped her cold feet. This was no mild, mannered Washington winter.
The sound of chirping birds invaded her thoughts. Sam glanced up to the string of Christmas lights strung across the tree lot and saw four cold, puffed up birds sitting tightly together in a row, calling out. Weird. Wasn't there a Christmas song about four calling birds?
Three kids dodged passed her giggling, Sam shut her eyes and clamped down on her trembling lower lip. To think she could have gone with Janet and Cassandra to sunny California, but had declined. Being a genius didn't mean she had common sense.
For now, last minute shoppers scurried about for that perfect tree. Well, she hated to be the bearer of sad tidings, but, at six p.m. on Christmas Eve, the pickings were pathetic. She had yet to spot a tree worth rescuing. Well there was one in front of her and the fact she could count the branches on one hand tugged at her heartstrings. Maybe she should take pity and purchase the four-foot orphan?
A small boy and a yapping beagle barreled around a corner and almost tromped over her. The boy skidded onto his backside with the dog landing in his lap.
"Oh, sorry, ma'am." The child apologized.
"You okay?" She reached down and helped him to his feet. The beagle managed to lick Sam's chilled chin. Sam patted the dog and laughed, the first today.
"Sure." He grinned dusting himself off. The beagle barked and wagged its tail at her. What a cute dog, she mused.
"You're not here alone, are you?" She felt concern and glanced around for the boy's parents.
"Nope. We're just looking for the perfect Christmas tree, but Snoop's picking. Aren't ya, boy?"
"Snoopy?" Sam arched a brow and noticed the boy's fine blonde head of hair made it appear like he had none. She bent and retrieved his red stocking cap from the dirty snow and dusted it off.
"Yeah, Snoopy-dog likes this tree." The boy pointed to the scraggly white pine Sam had taken pity on. She watched the little dog sniff then lift a hind leg and pee on the tree's trunk.
"Apparently." The sight stretched her smile.
"You have a pretty smile, lady." The boy grinned.
"Thank you." She laughed and blew on her fingers, then looked at the tree. "It's a Charlie Brown tree, you know?"
"Yep." he smiled widely. "That's my name."
"Really?" How odd.
"Hey, you alone?" The freckled faced boy looked at her with the roundest brown eyes she'd ever seen, they were almost cartoonish, which was totally illogical.
"Yes." She felt surprised at her honesty.
"No one should ever be alone on Christmas Eve."
"Some of us have no choice." She shrugged then sought to find her inner Christmas spirit that was hiding somewhere, she ventured.
"My Father said we all have a choice. Please spend Christmas with the person you love, Captain Carter." With that, the strange boy took hold of the emaciated tree and dragged it off with his beagle on his heels. Realizing she had the boy's cap she chased after him, but when she walked around the corner he had vanished.
Peculiar to same the least, Sam thought. And how'd he know my name? Spend Christmas with the person you love, Captain Carter. Not as if she hadn't wanted to, but they'd agreed, she and the colonel, that is, would not be together. She hated that he'd not argued the matter, even insisted that they must maintain professional distance on downtime and get lives that didn't include each other. Not romantically of course, but in general.
Man, this was all Daniel's fault. If he hadn't had skiing plans, they could have spent Christmas as a team. That'd have been better than squat. No, Jack, no Cassandra. Sam shivered. She missed Cassandra. Cass knew what Sam and Jack felt for one another and didn't deny wanting them together. Yeah, Sam and Cass had had that conversation months ago.
"You and Jack should get married, Sam. Gosh, the way he looks at you is so hot!" Quiet a mouthful for an eleven-year old alien, Sam had mused, then proceeded to explain Air Force protocol about fraternization between a CO and his 2IC. Cassandra had been flippant with a, "Whatever," retort. They'd not spoken about the matter since. But every time they met, Cass talked about Jack, even started to call him, dad. The girl adored him. Then so did Sam.
Dismissing those melancholy thoughts, Sam's hand toyed with the stocking cap in her hand. Something jingled and she stuck her hand into the cap and extracted the tiny objects, simple interlocked gold rings.
The Christmas carol, `Twelve Days of Christmas', crackled and snapped from the tree lot's cheap boom box. She'd love to tinker with the speakers, but restrained herself. 'Six geese a laying/five gold rings . . .' Sam swallowed and stared bug-eyed at the shimmering jewelry in her palm. Probably part of a kid's magic trick kit. She hoped.
"Man, oh, man, this day just keeps getting stranger!" She pocketed the gold rings back into the cap and stuffed the contents into her jacket pocket. "At least I haven't seen any geese." She began walking to where she'd parked her Volvo across the street. That's when she heard the undeniable honk of a goose. Turning slowly, Sam spotted geese huddled on a broken bale of straw. She counted again and let out a sigh of relief. There were only four. Just as she turned away, winged shadows flew overhead and landed behind her. Her shoulders stiffened and Sam turned to find six geese nestling down on the straw pile to keep warm.
Geese fly south for the winter, Sam. She shook her bare chilled head and accepted the fact she was going insane or as the colonel would say, wacko. She also accepted why she was stuck in frigid Colorado Springs, alone on Christmas Eve. Oh, yeah, Dad had invited her to join him but it meant traveling to the U.S. Russian Embassy in Moscow where he had close personal military ties. No way would Sam spend another Christmas abroad. There'd been too many such holidays in her life as a military brat. And yet, right now, she regretted her brash decision. Who else did she have, certainly not her estranged older brother, Mark? They'd not talked in five years. Nor had father and son spoken. What a shame, she and dad only had each other.
So, she'd assumed that this Christmas when they could have been together, Dad would be here for her. What was that cliché about assuming? Colonel O'Neill would know. But he was with his family in Minnesota or at his cabin. The fact she wasn't with him hurt more than she expected. She really did love that self-effacing Minnesotan.
After she'd declined his closet invitation, he'd invited, and then been turned down by, Teal'c to spend Christmas together. That's when the colonel flippantly announced he'd be going to Nana's O'Neill's, and that he never said no to his saintly Irish grandmother.
Sam had laughed at his stone-faced comment.
"Wha-at?" He'd turned to her with his adorable perplexed expression.
"No doubt your grandmother must be a saint to have you for a grandson, sir."
"I assume that's a compliment, Carter." His face scrunched tighter.
"If you say so, sir." She'd grinned.
"I do." He'd winked and his delicious dimples dragged alongside his kissable mouth. For one unguarded moment they'd shared a `look' that said more than either dared publicly admit. Feelings that ran rivers deeper than regulations allowed.
Funny that no one at the SGC suspected the wannabe lovers affair of the heart. Other than that first mission, they no longer took advantage of private moments off world, because doing so could jeopardize a mission, or worse, lives. Professionally, they respected and adhered to that mutual understanding. While on duty, Jack was her commanding officer, Colonel O'Neill, and she'd not give anyone reason to think otherwise. Sometimes she even fooled herself.
As much as Sam wanted and needed her dad and Mark to reconcile, and, more importantly, wanted Jack to be more than her CO, she longed to make her mark in this masculine gender's Air Force. If all went as planned, she would make Major and someday a full bird Colonel. Until then, she couldn't see herself settling down with a family and kids, even Jack's.
Sam hadn't lied to him. Her career mattered most and Jack had insisted that he'd never ask her to choose between him and the Air Force. True, his military occupation remained important to him as well, but he'd retired once, and would again. Heck, he'd already have retired if it'd meant Sam would marry him. She'd refused for now, because she wanted him leading SG-1. Thankfully, he'd confessed his present priority was to kick the Goa'uld snaky asses into the nearest black hole. Knowing his diehard commitment made her love him more.
Out of the blue, Sam started praying to a god she doubted existed, "Okay, I know I don't believe in you like I used to. I mean after mom died, well, we stopped talking. But if you're listening, all I ask is to spend Christmas with Jack—"
"Hey, lady, you gonna buy a tree or not?" asked the approaching salesman.
"Um, no, I—,"
"Ya know there's a storm com-ing -nn," he stuttered. She glanced up at the tall lanky man dressed in a corduroy coat, and a bill-cap with earflaps of the 1940ish design. Having spent the last few months off world she felt out of sync with the newest fashion trends. Apparently, everything came back into style sooner or later.
"Carter?" the Minnesotan voice turned her head.
"Colonel?" she gawked. "What are you doing here?"
"Excuse me. But shouldn't you be in D.C. with dad?" He wasn't smiling as he rocked on the heels of his dirty-snow splattered boots.
"Change of plans," she answered sharper than intended. Dear God, he was here, standing in front of her, wearing his old bomber jacket, hands jammed into its pockets while his black knit cap skimmed his dark eyebrows. He looked as cold as she felt. "And weren't you going to Grandmother O'Neill's, sir?" She stomped her cold feet.
"Change of plans," he mimicked then shivered. They stood staring at each other. Their intimate expressions said everything.
"S-oo either, yaa kids, gonna buy a tree?" The lot's owner stepped between them and smiled at the stupid grins on their faces. Well, Jack did have that `Doh' look.
"No." they said in unison, still staring at one another.
"Good, then I'm clozz-ing shop and heading home tae spend Christmas with the family. I suggest, ya young ones, do the same. By the way, there's a bliz-zard coming, ya know."
"According to the Weather Channel, we're to have a storm free Christmas." Jack glanced curiously at the taller gentleman.
"Not according to my boss." He winked and slapped his cold arms.
When Jack gave the taller man his black ops look-over, Sam noted how his face scrunched up in the most adorable but confused way. "Um, how many kids you got, Mister?"
"Name's George Bailey, and I've got four children, two girls and two boys and a beautiful wife named Mary."
Sam coughed.
Jack had that deer caught in the headlights look, she normally loved to instigate. That so wasn't the case this time. They exchanged befuddled expressions, before Jack attempted to speak and his voice bottomed out. "So--o, George, I just bet you own a Savings and Loan business, right?"
"Yep, up in Bedford Falls. Been a rough year though and I thought to sell trees. Best I stick to financing loans." He chuckled regretfully. "Well, ya young folks, have a safe and blessed Christmas." He turned to walk to his wooden shed and space heater.
"Wait!" Jack walked after him and Sam followed out of curiosity. He dug out his billfold and handed over all his cash to George. "Here, you make certain your kids and Mary have a happy Christmas, George."
"Ya sure about this?" The man looked at the greenbacks in his hand and gaped. From what Sam could see Jack had given him over a hundred dollars.
"Yeah sure yabetcha." Jack beamed. "'Tis better to give than receive."
Realizing the truth of Jack's generosity, Sam opened her small purse and did the same. "Here, George. I've got everything I want for Christmas." She looked at Jack, who nodded and smiled.
"Good golly!" George wrapped an arm about Sam and his other arm around Jack then gave them a powerful bear hug that made Jack grunt and Sam gasp. "Why thank you, ma'am, sir. I - - I don't know what else to say, except God bless each of you and have a wonderful life."
"You too, and um, George," Jack held up a hand.
"Yes?"
"Give little Zulu a hug for me."
"Sure will, Jack." George turned and raced into his shed and began switching off the lot lights.
Jack lifted his head skyward, muttered something incoherent and then blew out a long breath that misted the dry cold air. "There's no Bedford Falls in Colorado, Carter."
"I'll take your word on that one."
"Trust me." He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes a moment.
"Um, Colonel?" Sam realized she was shaking and not from the cold.
"What, Carter?"
"Please tell me we've been abducted by Apophis, pumped full of an alien hallucinogenic and he's messing with our heads?"
"If you say so. But at least we're sharing the same hallucination." He waggled his brows.
"I should find comfort in that observation, but under the circumstances," she glanced up as the lot's overhead lights switched off. "I don't."
"I'm wounded." He held a hand over his heart, but his tense expression revealed he was equally unnerved by the experience. "Care to come with?" He extended his arm to her.
"Love to, sir." She linked her forearm in his and despite the weird encounter they'd just had she felt as if she could soar without wings. Her colonel was here. Maybe they had been abducted by a system lord and brainwashed. Far better, maybe God existed after all.
"Weird huh?" he motioned around them.
"Yes." She shivered. "But then, I've seen some pretty strange things today."
"How's that?" He led her through the maze of trees and wreaths.
"Might sound crazy, sir, but a few minutes ago I saw and spoke with a real live character of the Peanuts comic strip. I'm talking, Charlie Brown, and his dog, Snoopy." She laughed nervously. "The only ones missing were Lucy, Linus and Pigpen."
"Wow! You too?"
"Yeah. Got his stocking cap right here and you wouldn't believe what's inside," she dug into her pockets but found them empty. "Well, I swear I had it right here."
"Strange day, huh?"
"You have no idea."
"Yes, I do. This morning, I had an encounter with Father Chuck O'Malley from the movie, `The Bells of Saint Mary'."
"Wow!" Sam's eyes widened, "You mean a Bing Crosby look-like?"
"Sort of." He scratched his jaw. So Ms movie trivia queen, what was Bing Crosby's real name?"
"Harry Crosby." She leaned into him for more warmth.
"Doh!" He tightened his gloved hand over her bare one. "I'm about to go bonkers, here, Carter."
"What?" she glanced up at him.
"We've been in this situation before, seeing weird people, right?" His brow furrowed.
"Seeing weird people, yes. The situation being Christmas, no."
"Let's not dwell, shall we?" He pulled a face, then grinned, "So ready to blow this icicle-stand, Carter." He gestured to where their vehicles were parked across the street.
"That's Popsicle-stand, sir," she corrected with a huge smile.
"A matter of opinion. I'm just saying." He pointed at the transparent icicles hanging from the cut trees. Remember the man's far smarter than he acts, Sam.
"Works for me." She gifted him with her intimate smile. "So have you got a tree, sir?"
"Yeah, and better yet, it's free." He winked.
~*~
CHAPTER THREE
Neither discussed the next course of action. It happened, naturally. Sam drove to her place, collected her wrapped gifts and the luggage she'd packed for D.C. Wearing a silly grin, Jack loaded his truck with Sam's belongings and watched her lockup her house. By the size of her suitcase he hoped she planned to spend more than one night. If there were any concerns about fraternization, neither discussed them as he drove home. He should stop at a grocery store since his refrigerator was barren as a church mouse's cupboard.
"I missed you," he admitted and grimaced that he'd said so, out loud. So much for professional protocol, Jack.
"Same here, sir." When she smiled, he caught her reflection in the passenger's window. She's beautiful, Jack. She's also shivering and her nose is the hottest shade of red.
"Here." He reached behind the bucket seats and tossed a folded military wool blanket on her lap.
"Thanks, Colonel."
"Think nothing of it. You need a winter coat, Carter."
"I know. Next week I'll hit the sale racks."
"That's what you said three months back. I don't need my 2IC getting sick."
"I won't." She spread the olive-green woolen cover across her chilled legs and leaned back in the seat.
"Promises, promises." He turned up the truck's heater.
A lull hung between them. Jack sniffed his dripping nose and dug into his pocket for a tissue, but came up empty handed.
Smiling, Sam yanked a handful of tissues from her jacket pocket and handed one over, "Here, sir."
"Thanks." He blew his nose then pocketed the soiled tissue.
"Um, so," they said on cue, then, "Sorry." Both laughed and nervously glanced at one another. Jack returned his attention to the holiday traffic.
"I'll pull rank, Captain. Why aren't you in D.C. with the all powerful Oz?"
"Dad got invited to the Russian Consulate and asked me along. I declined."
"Why?" He looked over.
"Matter of pride and principle, I guess. He went. I stayed. We're both stubborn, ya know?"
"Doh! Don't need to be a rocket scientist to know that, Carter."
"Funny. And why aren't you in Minnesota?"
"I'm a loner. The idea of hearing, `Have you heard how Sara's doing, Jack,' one more time, doesn't set well." He pressed a fist to his gut for effect. "They all love Sara and well, it'd be emotional. I hate emotional crap."
"I know." She smiled softly at him.
"But I will probably take a drive and visit Nana O'Neill before we return to work next week. She just turned ninety-three."
"Ah," Sam mused. "I'd like to meet her someday."
"I can arrange that. You'd like each other. She tinkers with anything mechanical or electrical and knows how to hot-wire a car. Heck, she taught me." He beamed with pride.
"Well that explains a lot." Sam laughed.
"So not touching that remark with a ten foot post, Carter."
`Pole,' but she didn't correct him. "And you're smart, besides." She winked.
"Well let's keep that our secret, huh." Jack laughed some more and Sam held his twinkling gaze and then blushing looked back out the front window. He fought the urge to touch her, let alone speak of their true feelings. He felt thankful she was there beside him, staring at the colorful holiday lights of houses they drove passed.
"Say, we need to come back and buy groceries," he stated as he steered onto his quiet street.
"Afraid of that mysterious blizzard, sir?"
"With all the bizarre stuff happening, I'm not taking any bets."
"Me either." She glanced up at the clear night sky. "Most grocery stores will be closed tomorrow."
He nodded then turned in his seat. "Carter, just so you know, I'm glad you're here and no matter what, I promise to be on my best conduct."
"Sure hope not, sir." She winked. When his mouth loosened at the hinges, she laughed, "I mean, spending Christmas with a stoic Colonel O'Neill is not my idea of fun."
"Well, then I'll try to keep you entertained, Captain."
"You better." She winked.
When they arrived at Jack's house they found two wooden crates on his front porch with a red envelope taped to the larger crate. Jack opened the letter and read out loud,
"Merry Christmas, Jack. You're the best neighbor a lonely widow could have. Thanks for blowing out my driveway every winter, and mowing my lawn in the summer. God bless you, Jack. Love, Maude."
"Maude?" Sam's blonde brows touched.
"Yeah, Maude Evans, across the street." He motioned to the red brick house beyond the driveway trees. "Her husband was a retired Air Force major and died last year of Leukemia. Her grown kids live out of state, so I help out, when I'm around."
"You're a good man, sir." Sam nodded as they each lifted a heavy crate.
"Got my moments." He hauled his box into the kitchen and Sam followed. After they'd divested of their outerwear, Jack opened a crate and gaped. "Good golly, Miss Molly, there's enough food here to feed a horse."
"Speak for yourself." Sam laughed.
"I am." He grinned. "Well, open yours," he anxiously gestured.
"Patience, sir." She pried off the second crate's cover to find several wrapped gifts and more food. "Home cooked from what I can smell." She inhaled and sighed with a smile.
"Yeah, Maude's the best cook ever." He smacked his lips. Opening a cookie tin, he handed Sam a frosted gingerbread cookie.
"Tastes fresh out of the oven." He smiled around a red frosted snowman.
"Yum," she said with her mouth full and they smirked like kids. They proceeded to down cookies and milk while Jack stocked the refrigerator and cupboards. Knowing her way around his kitchen, Sam put on pot of coffee.
"Wow, a whole turkey with trimmings," he voiced as he pulled out one delicious food item after another, including canned goods and his favorite beer.
"That woman obviously knows what you like." Jack detected a hint of envy in her tone that made him grin.
"Yeah, well, Maude's seventy-two years old and thinks of me as her son." He lifted an aged bottle of Merlot from the wooden box and waved it at Sam. "Um, look at this."
"You don't drink wine." Sam crinkled her nose.
"But you do." He waggled his brows.
"This is proving to be a very strange Christmas, sir."
"And getting weirder," he hoisted out a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream and two liters of Root Beer. "Looky, looky, Cassandra's favorites."
"Now, sir. There's a logical explanation," she claimed. "Cass and Maude have met, right?"
"Yeah, for about ten minutes. No discussion about Rocky Road Root Beer floats, that I recall."
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. "I think we should invite Maude over."
"Can't. She's in Utah with her family until March. Even odder, she left three days ago. So, how'd this fresh food get here?"
"Don't go spooky on me, sir. She probably hired a delivery or catering service."
"If you say so." He dropped a fresh head of lettuce, bag of carrots and celery into the vegetable drawer. "The turkey's still warm. And there's a smoked ham. Why there's enough food to last the week and then some. One would swear we were going to get snowed in like that tree guy said."
They exchanged a look, but said nothing as they put away the remainder of groceries, toilet paper and paper towels. Sam turned on the radio to hear fair skies for the entire Christmas weekend.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Two hours later with scented candles lit, the fireplace ablaze, and Christmas carols, Sam felt the holiday spirit warming her from the inside out. The hour before, Jack had sawed three feet off his backyard tree. They then dragged the enormous spruce into the house, including two bird nests and dead branches. Jack seemed to get a kick watching Sam vacuum up the path of stray needles as she mumbled about non-shedding artificial trees were popular for a reason.
In between, it took several engineering attempts to shove the seven-foot wide tree into the corner, which included scientific debates of where the tree would look best. Jack won and after trimming ragged branches, they'd found a way to keep the tree upright without rigging a steel stake into the floor's crossbeam, like Sam suggested. When it came to his house, Jack had no sense of humor.
"Man, this is huge, sir." Sam breathlessly spoke above him, while she held the tree in position.
"Yep. I'd meant to cut it down last spring. Gives me a better view of the creek from the kitchen window. And it's not like my backyard lacks trees." He explained which made her smile.
"Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Now's not the time to change your mind!" he groused as he secured the metal stand's screws into the thick trunk for the umpteenth time since they'd setup the tree.
"That's not what I meant, sir."
"Sam, for the millionth time cease with the formal address. My name's Jack."
"Yes, si- -Jack." Didn't he realize his order made their issues worse as she stood, straddling his extended jean clad legs? When she glanced down, which she kept doing, she found his black wool sweater had pulled further up his chest revealing the fine trail of dark hair that vanished below his worn belt buckle. A repeated vision sluiced over her mind's eye and it wasn't sugarplums dancing in her head. Heat spiraled down to her groin and inner thighs.
Oh, man! Spending the holidays alone with the colonel was major insubordination waiting to happen. Sam shut her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, hoping the pain would distract her. It didn't. Why had she agreed to come? Coz, you're nuts about him, Carter!
"I mean us, being alone, sir," her voice quavered and she cursed her emotions.
"Oh, that." He scooted out from beneath the branches and grinned as if he knew exactly where her mind had been . . . in the gutter, "isna a problem, ya?" he exaggerated his Minnesotan accent.
"It isn't?"
"Nope. For one, we're mature adults, Sam."
"But that is the problem, sir, I'm not feeling like a mature adult."
"Nah ah," he wagged a finger at her. "No butts or sirs. And for that matter, I'm not feeling like a grownup. More like a ten year old on Christmas Eve and that's okay."
"Oh, sure, for you that's normal." She smiled as he sat cross-legged on the floor and tugged his sweater in place. Darn!
"Secondly, as officers we respect the code of ethics and most importantly, because we are in love and respect each other, we've agreed nothing will happen and it won't right, Samantha?"
Besides having spoken more than he'd ever done in the same breath, he presented that cool, charming O'Neill façade that could seduce a mother ship out from under a Goa'uld system lord.
"Of course, Jack." Hearing him use her whole name and the `L' word made her heart ram into her ribs. When he shoved to his stocking feet, Sam fought the temptation to help him. Because that would involve touching and touching would not be prudent. On the other hand, a cold shower sounded rational.
"But," he drawled and stepped close, "Down the road when there aren't regs in our way, I plan to ravish you silly, Samantha Carter."
"And I look forward to being ravished, Jack O'Neill." She blushed at his implication.
"Err, um, yes . . ." He dragged his sultry gaze away from hers and swiped the sticky sap on his hands onto his jeans with that look of accomplishment she'd come to appreciate. "So how's the tree look, Captain?"
That he'd called her captain, instilled reassurance, but then she suspected he'd done so for himself as well. Sam came alongside him and tilted her head left, than right, before she frowned.
"Wha--at?" Arms akimbo, Jack cocked a burnished brow.
"Well, it's still an eighth of a degree off and . . ."
He tickled her!
"Unfair tactical maneuver!" Sam laughed as they tumbled to the floor.
"So's insinuating my tree's trajectory is off, Carter."
"But it is." She made a counter attack for his feet sticking a finger through his worn right stocking's hole.
"Argh!" He snorted when she found the sensitive sole of his foot. Jack snatched her waist and rolled on top to pin her hands over her head. The moment their hips made contact their struggle ceased, and laughter died.
Jack looked down with a rakish expression. His hot breath fanned her face. "Um, Samantha?" his voice dropped several octaves.
"Jack?" She squirmed igniting more friction.
"What?" He leaned forward and swept his warm lips across her forehead then to her left temple.
"We agreed, remember?"
"Ah, huh." He so wasn't listening.
Drowning in the pleasure of his embrace Sam sighed at their full body contact. One of them should stop. It should be Jack. Her take charge CO should intervene. He didn't. Then again, neither did she.
The phone rang, but neither noticed until the third ring.
"The-the phone?" she breathed out, wiggling to break free.
His answering machine kicked in. "I don't want to chat, so speak your peace and leave your number." Beep.
"Colonel O'Neill, this is Doctor Fraiser, if you're home, I need you to pickup."
Muttering, he crawled off of Sam, cleared his voice and answered, "O'Neill here." He hit the speakerphone feature, glanced at Sam who collected herself and listened to the conversation. She prayed Cassandra was okay.
"What a relief, sir! I'd have called Sam, but she went to Washington to visit her father and . . ."
"Actually . . ." Sam shook her head no. He rolled his eyes. "So whatsup, Doc?"
"Food poisoning hit the SGC."
"Doh! How'd that happen?"
"Not sure. We're still investigating. Unfortunately it's practically an epidemic. And with most of the infirmary staff on leave, I'm needed. The good news is that with the base on minimal staffing we've only got about a hundred officers, airmen and women tossing their cookies."
"Well there's that. So, how's General Hammond?"
"He's fine, so far. And before you ask, no he doesn't need you here. You're to enjoy your holiday downtime but remember you're to cover New Year's Day next week."
"Oh, I remember and don't worry, I wasn't asking." He chuckled.
"Look, Colonel, I've no idea when I'll get away. Which leaves Cassandra alone. I'm wondering if—"
"Already done, Fraiser. I'll head over and collect her and Spanky. She can bunk in the guestroom like always when she sleeps overnight."
"Thanks, sir. I didn't want her alone on her first Christmas."
"She won't be, Doc. You do whatever it is you do with tossed cookies and don't worry about Cassandra."
"I won't now, sir. I just wished Sam had been here. It'd have meant a lot for Cassie to see her over Christmas. Cassie bought you and Sam gifts, you know."
"Why, the sweet kid." Jack smiled at Sam. "Don't worry, Fraiser, I'll make sure Cassie has an unforgettable first Christmas. As for Carter, ya never know when she might pop up."
"Funny," Sam mouthed as she got to her feet.
"Thanks, Colonel O'Neill, I'll call Cassie and tell her you're coming."
"Hey, think nothing of it. Bye." He winked at Sam who fetched her jacket as he hung up.
"I'll go," his military tone held no leeway. "Besides, we'll let your presence be an extra surprise. And someone needs to cook."
"You think I can cook?" She eyed him up.
"I believe in miracles. And considering the turkey's cooked, most everything requires a nuke in the microwave. You do know how to operate--."
She slugged him, hard.
"Ow! Hitting a superior officer is a criminal offense, woman." He rubbed his sore arm, but grinned.
"I'll remember that next time you insult me."
"You do that." He winced. "If I bruise, I'm telling Hammond."
"Good and while you're at it, tell him you kissed me."
"Just your forehead."
"Your point?"
"I was working my way to your lips."
"Yeah, so much for behaving yourself."
"Hey, I didn't hear you complaining."
"Maybe it's a good thing that Cassandra is staying over."
"Hum, heavenly intervention?" He grabbed his truck keys off the kitchen counter.
"Well, the timing couldn't be better." She quipped and glanced back at the bare tree.
"Whatever." He winked and chuckled, then halted at the door slipping into his leather jacket that had seen better days.
"Wait?" She unraveled his jacket's worn collar as he zipped up.
He smiled. "A guy could get used to being doted over, Samantha Carter."
"Well, don't get too cozy." She grinned, patting his solid chest. "I wouldn't want you to take me for granted."
"Never happen." The sincerity of his words made Sam tremble. His warm hands came up and drew her fingers toward his face. "I don't suppose you want me to kiss you stupid?" He skimmed his sensuous thin dry lips against her fingertips.
"Go, fetch your niece, sir!" She declined what she wanted to admit, and eased from his possessive grip.
"Yes, ma'am." He let go. "Anything else I'm to fetch? Popcorn, peanuts, pretzels, chocolate, caviar, wine?" He smirked.
"Um, if I remember correctly, neither one of us likes caviar. But you should probably buy something other than Rocky Road for Cassandra to munch on while she's here."
"Your Christmas wish is my command."
As he opened the door, she smiled. "I've already got my wish, Scarecrow."
"Me too, Dorothy, me too."
~*~
CHAPTER FOUR
"I knew you'd come, Uncle Jack." Cassandra Fraiser grinned over her dog, Spanky, sitting on her lap and panting at Jack.
"I only came for my Christmas presents." He teased and petted the small dog.
"Whatever," She mimicked then affectionately squeezed his right forearm.
"So, which one's mine," he gestured behind the bucket seats.
"Not telling." She giggled. "Did you get me something?"
"Yeah sure yabetcha."
"Cool. And did you get Sam something nice."
"Yep."
"Well?"
"Not telling."
"Shucks." She rested her chin on Spanky's furry head. The small dog yawned. "I already knew last week that I'd spend Christmas with you."
"How's that?" He glanced at the brown-haired girl in his passenger seat.
"My angel told me." She said matter of fact.
"Ah," he sniffed and rolled his eyes. "So you believe in angels, huh?"
"Of course. When someone believes in God, they believe in angels, coz they're his messengers."
Entering the freeway, Jack shifted gears and placed both hands on the steering wheel. "Did you believe that on Hanka?"
She nodded yes. "Before the false god Nirrti came, most of Hanka believed in one good god. I still do, because his guardian angel came to earth when I did and still talks to me."
"Doctor Jackson believes angels are either myths or aliens. That makes perfect sense, don'cha think?"
"Daniel chooses not to believe in what he can't see . . . Even though I know Santa Claus is a myth, I like the idea of him being real, but that's different from believing in God who exists. I believe, Uncle Jack, do you?" She spoke so fast Jack's head began to hurt.
"Um, I try. But lately, I confuse easily." He cleared his throat, "So this Mister angel got a name?"
"Yep."
"And?"
"Clarence."
Jack grinned. "Really? So did you recently see a movie called, It's a Wonderful Life?"
"Nope."
"Oh." So much for that theory, Jack.
"Uncle Jack, can I tell you a secret?" her voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone.
"Sure," he whispered.
"You won't laugh?" She leaned into him.
"Never." He glanced over and smiled.
"Clarence said you and Sam are my real parents."
Jack coughed.
"Hey, you okay?" Her small fist patted his upper back.
"Er, um, yeah." Another rattle of gasps erupted. "So . . . why would Clarence tell you something that isn't true?"
"Angels always tell the truth."
"Cassandra," Jack drawled, trying to be sensitive but firm with her innocent imagination. "We both know that's not true. Your birth mother died on Hanka from Nirrti's poison."
"I believe my angel, Dad." Her tone was emphatic. "He doesn't fib."
Oy, she'd started with the dad thingy again. "None-fibbing angels aside, Cass, what about Doctor Fraiser? Um, Janet loves you and has adopted you—"
"I know she loves me. But she adopted me because you and Sam's jobs won't let you have a family. I know since Uncle George explained the SGC teams' special rules to me. No married officers, airmen or airwomen and no kids because going through the Stargate's dangerous. And that's why I can't live with either of you. But when you and Sam get married, I'll come live with you and be your daughter for good?"
"Cass?" Frustration threaded his voice. How the flip did they get on this dumb subject? How'd she know he and Sam had talked about marriage and adopting her? Sam would never give this sweet girl false hopes. "Cassandra honey, even if those weren't the rules, Sam, um, Captain Carter is still my subordinate, which means—"
"You can't get lovey-dovey. Yeah, I know."
"Lovey-dovey?" he mouthed.
"You know, kissy-faced?"
"Hey where did you learn this crap?"
"School and Television."
"Remind me to talk to Janet."
"Geez," Cassandra turned petulant. "I know you love Sam and she loves you. You just can't do anything romantic about it. Which is stupid. Even Daniel says so."
"Daniel?" Jack rasped as his gut hit the truck's floorboard. "Just what'd Daniel say?"
"Can't tell. I promised him and Teal'c that we'd keep your and Sam's secret a secret, coz otherwise you'll get in trouble with Uncle George and that'd be bad."
"Teal'c?" Crap!
"Yeah, I think mom knows, but she won't talk about it with me."
Janet? Double crap! He and Sam so needed to talk. "Hey, I've got Rocky Road ice cream and Root Beer in the frig."
"Oh boy!" Cassandra giggled. "My favorite."
"Yeah." Thankful for the temporary reprieve, he drove into his driveway, pressed the garage door opener and coasted into the garage.
"Look, Dad." Cassandra pointed at the boiling dark clouds drifting across the star-clustered sky. "Clarence said we're going to get a foot of snow tonight and lots more tomorrow."
"That's just snow flurries, Cass."
She shrugged as Jack took Spanky out of her arms to let the dog water his bushes. "Meet you inside, Sunshine." He lead Spanky toward the backyard.
Sam opened the kitchen's service door into the garage. "Hey, Cass!"
"Sam!" The preteen ran toward her and they embraced. "I knew you'd be here."
"You did?" She scowled. "Did the Colonel tattle?"
"No way. Clarence told me."
"Clarence?" Sam shut the door and watched the girl shrug out of her winter wear. Sam collected the items to hang in the front hallway.
"Yeah, my angel, but I'd rather talk about us right now."
"Sure. Where's your overnight bag?"
"Dad's bringing it," she looked around the decorated house. "Wow, you guys went all out."
"Colonel O'Neill went all out. My plans got changed so when we met at the tree lot, he—"
"Jiminy Cricket! Look at that tree." Cassandra leaped down into the sunken family room to gaze at the tall tree, dressed with one row of lit colored lights.
"Jiminy Cricket?" Sam chuckled.
"Yeah, Uncle Daniel said it's a Jack line."
"Is not." He stumbled into the foyer with his arms full of packages, a suitcase and snow covered Spanky attached to a leash, binding Jack's ankles in a circle. "Hey, a hand would be nice!"
Both females turned and clapped.
"Just peachy." He sniffed. "I'm serious, Carter."
"Of course you are, sir." Grinning, she stepped onto the raised foyer and took the suitcase and dog's leash, then unhooked Spanky's collar. The small dog dashed off to investigate the house, dropping tiny snowballs in its wake.
"Do you two haveta be snobs?" Cassandra frowned.
Jack gave Sam his questionable `well,' look.
"We're not snobs, Cassandra," Sam explained, "It's a matter of respect and habit for me to call my senior commander, sir."
"But it's Christmas and I wish you'd both chill and be Jack and Sam to each other. I mean, that's if Dad doesn't mind. You don't do you?" she looked expectantly at him.
"No, I don't mind, but then Sam knows how I feel."
"That's unfair," she hissed with a glare, "sir."
"I believe I already ordered you to nix the formalities, Sa-man-tha." He drawled and carted the presents to where the others were stacked by the Christmas tree.
"If you say so, Ja-ck." She snorted.
"I do." He grinned and shrugged off his jacket.
"Much better." Cassandra laughed, then pointed at the undressed tree. "So let's get to it, huh?"
Sam and Jack exchanged eye-rolls then smiled as the excited girl dove into an ornament box and hauled out a string of lights.
~*~
CHAPTER FIVE
A blizzard warning was in affect for Colorado Springs. The snow piled up and the winds had escalated making visibility hazardous. So much for the Weather Channel's accuracy report, Jack mused.
People were told to stay off the streets and a snow accumulation of twenty-six inches with sixty-mile an hour wind-gusts was the hottest news flash with snow to continue through Christmas Day and the weekend. All over town, Christmas Eve services were canceled, including Saint Mary's Cathedral.
Jack pondered how Father O'Malley and George Bailey the tree salesman had warned him of the bad weather. Due to previous storms, Jack had a diesel generator in his attached garage and plenty of firewood, not to mention his stove was LP gas. No matter what they'd be warm.
After this storm hit, Janet called twice to talk to Cassandra. Despite Cass's insistence that she wanted Jack and Sam for parents, he felt reassured hearing the exchange between the doc and Cassandra. Cass missed her new mom and a few tears got shed by the child. Surprisingly, Cass didn't mention Sam's presence.
With Cassandra's help, the fresh Colorado Spruce had enough lights to attract a Goa'uld mother ship. At least that was Jack's assessment. Stretching his aching lower back, he pondered how Sam had gotten out of decorating, oh yeah; she was warming up that delicious meal Maude had prepared. Taking orders from Cassandra felt similar to obeying General Hammond. Mostly okay, but eventually, a royal pain in the asset.
"Dad, I think the red starburst would look better next to the—"
"Na uh!" He flagged both hands. "You want it moved, go for it. This dad's in need of downtime and food." His stomach growled in agreement.
"Fine. Be a whining crank." She re-hung the ornament.
"I'm not a whining crank."
"Are too."
"Are not."
"Are."
"Not."
"Children!" Sam yelled from the kitchen.
"What?" they answered.
"Stop bickering."
"We weren't bickering." Jack voiced.
"Yes we were." Cassandra giggled.
"Were not!" He dropped his full weight onto the sofa. A crunching noise followed. "Ouch!" Jack gingerly stood and glared at the shattered blue glass ball on the cushions.
"What happened?" Sam bolted from the kitchen with a soiled spatula in hand.
Cassandra laughed hardily and pointed at Jack. "Dad broke—"
"His dignity." He winced and picked fine glass shards from his jean-hugging butt.
"Want some help?" Sam walked toward him with a wicked smile.
"No! I can handle this." He proceeded to hobble stiffly passed her, tugging the seat of his pants and wincing.
"A Hallmark moment, Cass." Sam smirked.
"For sure." The girl giggled loudly as they watched Jack's awkward departure for his bedroom.
"You both will pay." Jack countered before he opened his bedroom door.
"Bring it on." Sam grinned then cringed at Cass's worried expression because payback by O'Neill was most often unpleasant.
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Jack grinned as he stepped into his bedroom and ditched his prickly jeans. He was fine, he thought, but ran an investigative palm beneath his Road Runner boxers to be sure. No broken skin, no blood. Good. Tugging on his last pair of clean jeans, he recalled how cold Sam looked in her short-sleeved white blouse, even with his green flannel shirt over it.
Going to his closet he milled about until he found the red-turtle neck sweater he'd bought her last week and had forgotten to wrap. All thumbs, wrapping presents never had been his strong suit. He felt thankful for the invention of decorative gift bags.
In his haste, he knocked a box that collided with another item and tumbled to the floor from the dark shadows of his heart with a muffled thud. Jack's lungs emptied as he tentatively reached for the object that he'd almost forgotten and wished he had. Soon as his fingers closed around the wood handle, memories assailed him like blasts from a thousand staff weapons. Jack dropped to his knees and surrendered to what he'd been trying to avoid, trying to fill the ugly festering wound with Sam and Cassandra, but couldn't. God in heaven, he missed Charlie!
One week before Charlie's death, his son had pointed at Jack's proudest trophy, where it'd hung over their Victorian's house's fireplace mantle.
"Hey, Dad, when I'm old enough can I have your autographed Wayne Gretzky hockey stick?"
"Sure, when you turn twenty-one." Jack had teased with an eye roll, which said, I'm never giving up that stick.
"Geez, that's eleven years away. I mean I'll be ancient by then."
"Excuse me, but I didn't get that stick until I was thirty-one." Jack reminded him.
"When your dad gave it to you?"
"Yep." He grinned. "When you were born."
"What if I don't live that long?"
Jack's heart twisted, his smile ironed out. "That's a stupid thing to say, son."
"I'm just saying," Charlie's large brown eyes darkened. "Mom said, no one knows how long we've got, and we should make the most of every moment."
"Yeah." Jack held back. Charlie was thinking way too serious crap for his age. "Maybe Santa'll give it to you this Christmas."
"Um, Dad, I don't believe in Santa anymore." He pulled a face.
"Then guess you won't be getting that autographed hockey stick."
"Wait, I believe in Santa Claus!" He held his tummy and spouted, "Ho- - ho!"
"Funny." Jack smirked. "I'll have a chat with Santa."
"Ya mean it, Dad?" Charlie flung his arms around his neck and hugged him.
"Hey, when have I ever lied to you?" Jack ruffled his son's golden brown hair and kissed his cheek.
"Never." He laughed, eying up the legendary Hockey player's stick with a coveting grin.
"But if and when you get that valuable, collector's trophy you've got to promise you won't use it on the ice, driveway, back alley way or—"
"Promise, Dad!"
"Excellent."
~*~
Someone was rapping on Jack's bedroom door, again. He untangled himself from the cobwebs of his past and cleared his head.
"Um, Jack?" Sam opened the door and craned her neck around the corner.
"What?" his teeth snapped. Jack flattened his stray tears with his left hand, sniffed and shoved to his feet, wishing her away.
"Dinner's ready. You okay?"
"Um," he cleared his voice and set the stick back behind his hanging class A's. "Sure, I'm coming."
As if sensing his disconcert, she entered the dark room softly illuminated by a single bedside lamp. Sam walked toward him. He shut the folding closet doors and turned.
"Here." He shoved the holiday bag into her arms and avoided her perplexed look. "I intended to give this to you tomorrow, but seeing as you're cold . . ."
"Thanks!" Her eyes sparkled as she fingered the soft cashmere sweater then reached up to hug him. "It's beautiful, Jack."
"Yeah, whatever." He pulled back.
"Whatever?" her soft brown brows knit tight. "Hey, what's wrong?" She hugged the warm sweater to her chest and her lips tugged low.
"Nothing." He said brusquely.
"It's Charlie isn't it?"
"Can we not talk about that?" He motioned to step around her. She blocked him.
"Don't." He cautioned.
"Jack, we can avoid the subject forever, but that doesn't make it easier or go away, nor should it, especially during Christmas."
"Yes, it should. I cried myself out with you months ago. This- - this shouldn't hurt anymore." He slammed his closed fist against his chest.
"Says who?" She caressed his hot cheeks with her cool fingertips.
"That's whom and I say so, Carter, I say so!" He seized her wrist and yanked her toward the bedroom door. "Get out! I'll be there in a few."
"Yes, sir." Her formality jarred him.
"Sam?" the tension in his voice softened as he sat on the edge of his bed and dropped his head into unsteady hands.
"Yes, Jack?"
"This isn't about us." He lifted his head and scrubbed both hands over his face and through his hair. "Never was."
"Wrong." She walked over and hunkered down before him, but didn't touch him. "From here on, it is about us. When two people fall in love, there are no more secrets. They share each other's joys and pains, Jack, even when not invited into the other person's heartache, they can't help but experience what the other one feels, at least I can't."
"Humph! What moron said that?"
"You."
"Oh," he mouthed then looked at her, felt her sweet breath dry the tears on his whiskered face. "You're really something else, Samantha Carter." He offered a clipped smile of appreciation. "Putting up with this old flyboy and his baggage."
"We both have baggage. And putting up with you is an honor, Colonel O'Neill."
"Ya think?"
"I do." She pressed a chaste kiss to the furrow between his brow then shoved to her feet and strolled to the open door with the red sweater. There, she turned and looked patiently and lovingly at him. An immeasurable stretch passed as they held one another's compliant gaze. Sam made no attempt to talk. She'd come to know Jack in ways Sara never had, especially when he needed space. And yet, even with Sam, one of two humbling words remained a prideful thorn.
"Thanks," he whispered huskily, relieved he'd said it.
"For what?"
"Being here." He smiled.
"Always."
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Feeling guilty, at least that was Jack's take on the matter, Sam called Janet at the SGC relaying she'd stayed in town and was now at Jack's house. As expected, Sam masterfully sidestepped Janet's inquiries about the how and why.
Supper proved a feast and there were plenty of leftovers. Jack ate so much that he'd loosened his belt. Then again, Cassandra had put away as much, if not more. Even Sam surprised him and ate some of everything on the table. Maude's timing with the boxes of goodies had been perfect. He'd have to call her at her son's and thank her.
Outside the blizzard picked up speed and rattled the storm windows. This was a good night to be inside with the two most important women in his life. The realization he'd not included Sara came as a bittersweet afterthought. Jack really had moved on, at least romantically.
Meanwhile, Sam hadn't brought up their encounter in his bedroom and he respected her for respecting his privacy. He now loaded the dishwasher and as inconspicuously as possible watched her scrub his white porcelain sink with the determination of a fixated housewife. Ever since his conversation with Cassandra, he couldn't rid himself of the selfish vision of them being a family. Cass calling him, Dad, didn't help matters. Worse, he'd lapsed into a mini-fantasy if only for tonight, and tomorrow, that they were the O'Neill clan. Crap! Sam would walk if she knew his immediate thoughts.
"Ya know, despite the lousy weather, this is rather pleasant." She turned to him, brushing blonde strands behind her ears.
"Huh?" He shut the dishwasher and set the controls.
"Us, being together with Cassandra." She blushed.
Mercy, she'd read his thoughts! "How's that?" He swiped his damp hands down his jeans and captured her blue-gray eyes with a steady look, battling the desire to take her in his arms and . . .
"Oh, sorry, just projecting." She bounced her fisted hands against her thighs, a blatant sign of one nervous Captain Carter.
"Care to expound?" With his hands wind-milling he stepped closer. Since Cassandra's arrival they'd been verbally informal, but other than two accidental rear-enders and the brief moment in his bedroom, they'd not touched. Nor had there been an opportunity to share what Cassandra had said about Daniel, Teal'c and Janet. He had yet to decide if such disclosure would hinder their working relationship. He wouldn't jeopardize losing his 2IC because of a few suspicious but accurate observations, which meant they'd have to be more cautious in the future. Maybe he should talk to Daniel and Teal'c, feel them out before making a mountain out of a molehill. Geez, how cliché!
"Being here like this, cooking, cleaning, and refereeing . . ."
"Yes?" He encouraged with his personal smile.
"Is um, a lot like being off world with you and Daniel."
"Is not." Jack's mouth tugged upward as he noticed the quirky sneer on her ruby-tinged lips.
"Is too."
"Not."
"Is."
"Not!" His hands seized her womanly hips and he pinned her against the work center's counter.
"I rest my case." She angled her head back.
"You are brilliant."
"So you've said . . .a lot." Her small palms pressed against his heart that sped with the swift fire of machine gun. "Um, I believe we've placed ourselves in a compromising position." When her hips rotated against his, Jack almost lost it.
"Ya think?" he inhaled the familiar sweetness of her, which caused his southerly response. When she didn't break their intimate contact, he so wanted . . ..
"I think you guys should kiss and get on with the human mating ritual." Cass announced from the doorway.
"Cassandra Fraiser!" Jack practically leaped out of his skin and then put mileage between himself and Sam.
"That's my name don't wear it out." She teased and strolled into the kitchen wearing her flannel Barbie pajamas.
"Man, oh man." Sam muttered. Her earlobes had turned beet red as she turned and re-rinsed the clean sink with the spray nozzle.
Jack summoned his rusty parenting skills and pinned Cassandra with a glower that erased the girl's smart-aleck smirk.
"Geez, can't a girl get a break around here?" She gulped and sent him a pleading look. "I was only teasing, Dad, Aunt Sam, really."
Obviously, still embarrassed, Sam nodded from where she stood with her back to them.
"Go tease and torture Spanky." He shook his head and ushered Cassandra toward the living room.
"But it's Christmas Eve."
"And your point would be?" He bent and kissed her flushed cheek.
"Well," she whispered as they passed under the archway and down into the living room. "I hope you put that mistletoe above us to good use before the night's over and I don't mean with me."
"Ah," he nodded. "Your order's received loud and clear," he chided. "Remember even though Sam and I are off duty, I'm still her commanding officer and—"
"Yeah yeah, I know. No frat-whatchacallit." She pouted and settled on the floor to pet the sleeping dog. "But I cross my heart and hope to die, that whatever happens here, stays here." She yawned out and winked.
"Well that's comforting . . . I think." Jack glanced at the mantle clock. Ten-thirty. "It's way passed your bedtime, Sunshine."
"I know." She pointed to her unrolled sleeping bag. "Can I sleep out here?"
"You mean you don't want my fabulous, spare no expense, guest bedroom with the Wonder Woman bedspread and curtains?" Jack's brow furrowed, "And that Barbie radio clock."
"Oh, I like the room, Uncle Jack, but it's Christmas Eve and since there's no presents under this tree for me from Santa, I figured I'd wait-up for him."
"Why?" Sam asked as she switched off the kitchen and dining room lights and ambled toward them, carrying two hot mugs.
Jack's amber gaze met her silvery sapphires and they smiled at each other. He contemplated how right she looked with his faded green, flannel shirt over her red turtleneck sweater hanging down to her blue jean clad knees. Not to mention her stocking feet and short messed blonde hair. His genius Air Force captain looked domestic, like a wife and mother. Man, she was hot! But then whether in field BDU's or dress blues, Doctor Samantha Carter always lit his fire.
"Um, earth to Jack and Sam!"
Realizing they were staring, they turned to find Cassandra took their silence for a yes and had snuggled into her sleeping blanket with Spanky at her feet.
"Excuse me?" Jack addressed his niece. "If memory serves me, you don't believe in Santa Claus."
"So, you don't believe in angels," she countered. "That doesn't mean neither exist." So please, wake me when he shows," she turned her back to them, facing the blazing fireplace.
"Sure, kiddo." Jack grinned at Sam, who shook her head and handed over his hot cup.
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Jack sat back on the sofa, his left arm stretched along its back cushions; he extended his long legs and then looked at her expectantly. Sam declined his unspoken invitation. Instead, she claimed his favorite chair, pulled her bent knees beneath her, and sipped her drink.
"Gun shy?" He frowned as he suspiciously eyed the whipping cream crowned drink he held.
"Just cautious." She replied smiling over her steaming brew.
"Ah," he nodded and sniffed the hot drink. "Breaking into my Chivas Scottish Whiskey, I see, smell . . ." He took a sip, "and taste."
"Yep. Hope you don't mind, it's my version of a Tom and Jerry."
He took a longer swallow and smiled. "Excellent," he drawled.
She grinned, nursed her drink, but stared at him.
"What?"
"You've got a whip cream mustache."
"Whoops." He dragged the tip of his tongue across his upper lip. "Better?"
She tilted her head. "I don't know, I like you with a mustache."
"I'll keep that thought alive," he quipped then glanced at Cassandra who snored. "She's out like a light." He smiled at the girl's sleeping form.
Sam watched his affectionate expression.
"Yes, well, don't let the special sound effects fool you. She's a con artist and light sleeper."
"Is that hypothesis or based on personal experience?" He blew out a breath, set the drink on the end table then leaned forward, his forearms propped on his thighs as he looked at her.
"Experience, trust me." She sighed and yawned. "We best behave ourselves, sir."
"Sir?" Jack's smiled ironed out and he shut his eyes.
"Sorry." She looked down, then at the fireplace and hugged her arms. When she stole a glance his way his gaze was hooded by his long lashed eyelids, and his sensuous mouth slightly ajar. She loved his rugged face, those lips, and how he rarely, if ever, completely closed his mouth. What was an annoyance to some was an open invitation to Sam. She so wanted to kiss him. That however he had ceased fidgeting indicated trouble brewing between them.
"I'm glad I'm here with you, Jack. It's just that I'm confused about us. Deciding where we go from here, if ever." There, she'd said it.
"If ever?" he sighed. "Then I'm not the only one confused?"
"No." She admitted and chewed her lips.
He cleared his throat and nodded at Cassandra who'd turned to face them. "We need to talk, Sam, minus a third party." He flagged a hand at the sleeping child.
"Well, I'm all out of brilliant ideas." Sam set down her drink and shook her head.
"I'm not." He shoved to his stocking feet, tiptoed and then knelt beside Cassandra. In one fluid movement he picked her up with the sleeping bag.
Sam held her breath. She expected the child to awaken, but Cassandra snuggled into Jack's arms and sighed against his chest. Taking her cue, Sam hurried down the hall and opened the guest room's door. Jack followed and gently placed the sleeping girl on the double bed, beneath the Wonder Woman covers. Spanky followed and joined his mistress, curling up beside Cassandra's.
Jack brushed back the girl's golden brown hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Sam did the same, then whispered. "Good night, Sunshine."
As they left the bedroom, Sam hugged herself and glanced at Jack when he quietly shut the door.
"Glad to know I haven't lost my touch." He grinned.
"Do you think this was a good idea, s . . .?" She caught herself.
"I think she didn't want to miss anything and I'm not talking Santa Claus." Jack said in a hushed tone.
"Oh, right." She felt blood warm her cheeks and followed him back to the living room.
In the guest room, Cassandra opened her eyes and grinned. "You were right, Clarence, it worked."
~*~
CHAPTER SIX
His back to Sam, Jack stoked the fire and then shut the glass doors. He felt apprehensive. The fact Carter . . . Sam had broached their personal issues bothered him. Did she want to call it quits, end what they'd barely started, of being a couple, let alone in love? Not that he'd blame her.
He jumped when she touched his shoulder and knelt beside him. "You do that well."
"What?" His brows climbed into his hairline.
"Everything. You built this house, make cozy fires, decorate Christmas trees," she glanced at the shimmering lights in the dark room. "Deal with impetuous little girls." Sam turned her head and smiled generously. "And I don't want to forfeit knowing that part of you, Jack O'Neill, ever." She dropped his gaze.
"Excuse me? Who said you have to?" He cradled her chin and raised her face level with his own.
Sam rolled her eyes and then easing from his grasp sat on the carpeted floor below him. "The Air Force, military protocol, regulations, the Pentagon, this cursed Goa'uld war!" her voice escalated.
"Oh." He settled on the floor and drew his knees to his chest. "Sam, we need to set things right."
"Okay." She winced and mimicked him, but rested her chin on her raised knees and looked over at him. She looked stressed and uncomfortable.
Jack hated that she'd ever feel insecure around him. Then again, he felt scared shitless of what she might be about to say. Nervous, he clenched his hands to keep from touching her. "First off, let's spell out exactly how we feel about each other. No holds barred."
"I'll try, sir." She nodded and blushed.
"Samantha," he drawled, "This is me you're talking to."
"Sorry." She pressed a cupid smile.
"So are you still in love with me?" he motioned between them.
"Yes, I'm in love with you, Jack." She snagged her lower lip, "But we're at a stalemate. Would it change things if I left the Air Force—"
"I'd never make you give up your career, Sam."
"And I wouldn't ask that of you."
"You wouldn't have to. I'd retire in a heartbeat if it meant we could. . ."
"No. I don't want that, Jack, least not now. The SGC needs you. And I need you to be my CO."
"Checkmate."
"Guess, so." She winced. "And you, I mean, do you love me?"
"Was that a rhetorical question?" He trailed a blunt fingertip over her clenched hands then rested his calloused palm there.
"Jack?" she sounded exasperated.
"Yes, I'm in love with you, Samantha Carter, forever and always."
"Well, that was easy. Now what?" She tilted her blonde head and gave that adorable turtledove gulp.
"You tell me? We keep coming back to this exact exchange. As if we need constant reassurance how we feel for each other. And, I gotta tell you, that as a guy, it's not easy being me." He winced.
"Maybe because we are so different with each other on base and off world. We have to put on a, `we're only coworkers,' façade and—" She shut her eyes and pressed her lips together. "It's gotten harder. Fearing I'll slip and call you, Jack, or touch you inappropriately. And I hate lying." Her heart-shaped chin trembled as she turned away. "When I want to shout to the world how I feel about you and can't."
"I know." He sighed, hating their situation. "It's not easy for me either, Sam. But I think we're doing okay with those who matter, like Hammond."
Sam shook her head. "I don't know, sometimes I catch him looking at us, strangely, as if he knows. Crap, he's my godfather, Jack. If I ever let him down, because of us . . ." Tears bathed her pale cheeks.
Being Christmas Eve Jack no longer gave a rat's ass about military protocol. "C'mere." He scooted over and pulled her into his arms, cradled the back of her head, then burrowed his face into the warm juncture of her soft neck. Tears threatened, but Sam needed his strength tonight and that he could give without crying.
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"That's okay. Let it out, Babe, let it out." He coaxed with his sweet lisp that made her more vulnerable.
Sam clung to Jack O'Neill and cursed her frailty. Cursed how this one man could make her forget she was United States Air Force officer, Captain Samantha Carter. That she held a master and doctorate degree in astrophysics and by the age of thirty had accomplished what few women would ever experience. This man made her feel feminine in every conceivable fashion. Right now she felt like a woman in love and she was, with Jack. Worse, the fact they couldn't consummate their love burned a painful wound deep into her soul. She needed him so much, sometimes, she swore that in a different lifetime, they'd been like this before, holding, caressing and loving each other for all they were worth.
Feeling his warm mouth nibble the flesh of her neck she uttered, "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved." She sniffed against his sweater.
"You're never going to lose me, Sam. I'll always be here for you, no matter what." Holding her between his bent legs, Jack lifted his head and pressed his forehead against hers. "Believe me."
"I do. But I suck at relationships. Why the first man I fell for, wasn't even sane."
"Hanson?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I've not exactly got all my nuts and bolts intact either. Remember I walk the lunatic fringe everyday."
"You're different." She reached for the tissue box by the hearth, took one and blew her nose, loudly.
"Careful. Don't blow out those valuable brains of yours." He took her drenched tissue and flung it into the fire, then lifted her chin and smiled at her wet eyes. "How different?"
"Well, you're funny, tender and patient with me. I could never be this open with Jonas. He wouldn't know how to deal with a crying astrophysicist."
"Ah. Well I admit that does take practice." He chuckled. "But I'm hardly a shining example of tenderness or patience, especially when you cry."
"Are you implying I cry too much?" She tensed in his arms.
"No!" he put up his hands in defense. "I just feel helpless that's all. I hate to see you hurt, Sam. I want to right whatever's wrong. And I don't always know what you want from me."
"Holding me like this is all I need, Jack."
"Well then," he slid his arms back around her waist. "That I can do." He wrapped his legs around her hips and rocked her gently.
"You know, I hurt those I love the most. I drive them away. I'm afraid that eventually I'll do the same to us, Jack. I'll screw up so bad, you'll walk and won't come back."
"Samantha, we all make mistakes. But you must believe I'll never walk away from us."
"You say that now. Just wait."
"Wow! Since when did my eternal optimist turn pragmatic?"
"Oh, let me count the ways," she sniffed. "Do you realize I have a zero relationship with my older brother, Mark, and a devilish rapport with my dad, who won't ever be proud of me until I'm in the astronaut program. That so isn't going to happen?"
"He's no right putting such expectations on you, nor do you."
"So just what do you expect of me, Jonathan?"
"Nothing." He smiled into her questioning wet eyes. "You've already given me everything. Right here, right now holding you, I don't need anything more, Samantha."
"Clearly that's not John-John talking."
"Um, well, no. Guess I think clearer without him involved." He chuckled and kissed her dry lips.
"Yes you do." She laughed softly.
"No giggling."
"Trying." She leaned into his comforting embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. "This is nice."
"Yeah, but my over forty spine doth protest."
"Mine too." She pulled back as he brought them to their feet and they relaxed on the firm but comfortable sofa. Jack punched a decorative pillow beneath his head and then with his back against the cushion, stretched and drew Sam to him, so they faced the glowing fireplace and multicolored lit tree.
Outside sleet and snow pelted the windows. When Sam yawned and pillowed her head on his bent arm, Jack drew the afghan over them and they cuddled. Forgetting their original discussion about the SGC, he breathed into her soft hair, "Ya know, this is our first Christmas together, Dorothy."
"One of many I hope, Zorro."
"I promise. From here on, we spend Christmas together."
"Deal." She smiled against his hand that she'd drawn beneath her chin and her thumb brushed his wrist hairs.
"No matter what goes down, Samantha, I'll always love you."
"And I'll always love you, Jack." She nestled deeper into his arms. "Merry Christmas."
"Ditto." Jack closed his eyes and thanked God for answering his Christmas prayer.
~*~
CHAPTER SEVEN
Half awake, Cassandra went to the bathroom. Dragging her sleeping bag behind her, she checked Jack's room but found it empty. Seconds later, the sleepy-eyed eleven-year old padded into the living room and smiled at the couple curled up on the sofa. Chewing her lips, Cass tilted her head, trying to figure out how to maneuver her way into their snug embrace.
"Go ahead," a young boy spoke from behind her. Cass turned and smiled at the apparition standing beside the ten-foot angel Clarence.
"Are you, Charlie?" she asked.
"Yep." The freckled-faced boy shrugged and smiled back.
"Are you a ghost?"
"No. My body just hasn't joined up with this part of me, so I guess I'm a heavenly spirit, right, Clarence?"
"Right, Charlie." The angel smiled at the ten-year old.
"But I am your big brother."
"Just different moms, huh?" Cassandra sighed with a puzzled look.
"Yes." Clarence answered for the brown-haired boy. "But remember, Jack and Sam don't know. The time for that knowledge to be revealed to them has yet to pass."
"Oh, right," they said in unison.
"But they're my real parents?" Cassandra asked softer, when Jack stretched, extending his mismatched stocking feet over the arm of the sofa.
Clarence nodded and a smaller brown-haired girl with gray-blue eyes materialized beside Charlie.
"Way cool. Hi, Grace." Cassandra exclaimed. "I haven't seen you since before Jack and Sam rescued me from Hanka."
"Shush!" Grace walked over and pressed her fingers to Cassandra's mouth. "Or, you'll wake the dead."
"Speak for yourself," Charlie chuckled at the younger girl.
"Funny." She rolled her brilliant blue eyes. "We haven't long, Charlie. Remember we're here because with it being Christmas, The Star Keeper gave us special privileges. We've only got a few earth moments."
"Whatever," he snorted and made a face at her.
"How obtuse." Grace countered, then tossing her long curly locks she stuck out her tongue.
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Children! Now is not the time for such antics." The angel disciplined them.
"Are they always this way?" Cassandra asked Clarence.
"Often worse. They are so much like their father, it wearies me."
"Well, I like my dad just the way he is." Cass defended Jack. "We relate."
"I bet you do." Clarence chuckled.
"So do we." Grace smiled. "I can't wait until I can be here for real as their daughter."
"Patience is a virtue," Clarence reminded her.
"I know." She swirled in a circle then giggled. "The Star Keeper promised that pretty soon mom and I get to have a one-on-one chat. Something about her getting lost in space and me helping out. That'll be sweet."
Clarence smiled patiently at her then nodded a Charlie. "It's time."
With a nod, Charlie O'Neill stepped over to where his father had changed positions, hugging Sam like a pillow and nuzzling her cheek.
"Dad looks so peaceful." Charlie bent and ruffled Jack's bed head- hair. Sadness erased the boy's smile. "Crap! Look at those gray hairs, there weren't any when I'd left."
"He's been through a lot the last few years," Clarence reminded.
"Yeah, and it's my fault." Charlie sniffed and dragged a hand across his wet nose.
"Charlie." Grace gently reprimanded. "The past can't be undone." She glanced upward from the source of bright light that shone upon them and nodded as if someone were speaking. "It's now that matters, Charlie, and you still have to visit your mom, Sara."
"Yeah, I know." He kissed Jack's blue-shadowed jaw. "I love you so much, Dad. I want you to know how happy I am in Heaven. Grandpa and Grandma O'Neill are with me, so's your baby brother, Arran Mathew. Man, I wish you'd realize none of this was your fault.
"I made a wrong choice, Dad, a mistake. I got mad when you took away my water pistol, so I broke the gun case lock and loaded your gun, I . . . Geez, it was an accident and I'm sorry I hurt you and mom. I love you, Dad. And as much as I wanted you and Mom together, that was not meant to be. This pretty blonde lady you're holding is your godsend. Not now, but one day, you'll be married. The Keeper of the Stars says you are each other's chosen heart and I believe Him. So have a happy Christmas, Dad, and appreciate what you have right here and now."
When Charlie brushed a kiss across Sam's cheek, she smiled in her sleep. "Take good care of my dad, Samantha, he's going to need you more than ever."
"Wow," Cassandra sniveled and dragged a hand across her wet nose. "That was sweet. Do you think they heard you?"
"Of course." Clarence smiled. "The heart hears everything."
Slipping his short arms around Jack and Sam, one shimmering gold tear tracked from Charlie's right eye and wet Jack's parted lips. "I'll always be with you, Dad, always."
Before stepping back with the others, he hugged Cassandra. "You better take good care of them, Sis."
"I will. But you know they're very stubborn, especially dad."
"Tell me about it." Charlie snorted. "You just hang in there and keep talking to The Star Keeper."
"Sure. But will I see you again?"
Charlie glanced at Clarence who shook his head. "Doubt it. This was my Christmas request and we only get one. Besides, time passes so fast in heaven, it'll be like an earth's microsecond for me and next I know, we'll all be together again."
"You're pretty sure about that?" Cass sighed.
"Yep. Once you're dead, you know the scoop on everything, right, Clarence?"
The angel smiled and nodded.
"If you say so." Cassandra glanced at Grace who was blowing bubbles and humming. "Is she always that way? Like clueless?"
"Yeah, she hasn't been born yet. So she's in her own little world. A bit annoying if you ask me," Charlie shook his head. "But she's my kid sister, so I deal. And someday, you'll have that painful pleasure." He winked.
"See you soon, Cass." Grace smiled and blew bubbles at her.
Cass batted the shimmering soapsuds and when they popped, she realized they were real.
"Sweet, huh? Grace giggled at her.
"Yeah, sweet." Cass grinned.
"Time to go, children." Clarence gathered Charlie and Grace to him.
"Wait?" Cassandra stepped forward. "So will I remember any of this, or you guys?"
"For a while," Clarence explained. "As you grow older and lose your childhood innocence, you'll forget us, including this revelation that Jack and Sam are your birth parents. However, if you continue to believe in the unconceivable and the purity of love but, most important, The Keeper of the Stars, you may never forget, at least in your heart."
The three spirits began to fade.
"Oh, I never want to forget." Cassandra insisted through a yawn. "Um, hey, Clarence, did you ever get your wings?"
"Of course." He began to grow taller, shimmer brighter and expanded snow-white feathered wings that transcended through the tree and fireplace, then folded around Charlie and Grace. In a brilliant blinding light, they disappeared.
"Cool!" Cassandra turned to find Jack and Sam still asleep. "You really missed some cool stuff." She shivered then wormed her way beneath the afghan and into Sam's arms.
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Jack yawned then cracked open his blurred eyes to find Cassandra nested in Sam's embrace, but also close to falling off the narrow sofa. He made a CO decision. Gently, he lifted the sleeping girl and carted her to his bedroom then placed her in the center of his bed. A few moments later, relieved that he'd not awakened Sam, he eased her onto the other side of Cassandra. Jack clambered into the opposite end and drew the comforter over them and snuggled down for the night. A grunt and whine followed. Spanky wagged its tail and begged to get on the bed. Jack hefted the dog onto the blankets where it burrowed beside him.
"Guess there's no place like home for the holidays, huh, boy." Jack stretched his right arm over Cassandra and Sam and drifted to sleep.
The instant Jack shut his eyes a small boy materialized at the foot of his bed holding a hockey stick with a red bow. "Thanks for my present, Dad. But this Christmas gift belongs in the present, not the past." With that, Charlie vanished.
~*~
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Well?" Daniel scowled at Oma.
"Well, what, Doctor Jackson?"
"That's it?" He floated above the sleeping threesome. Nope, make that foursome. Daniel grinned when he spied Spanky spread over Jack's legs. "I mean, that was interesting, at least what I got to see. We did a lot a head hopping and that whole angel scenario, well, sorry, I just don't buy into that God stuff."
"I did not expect that you would, Daniel. As Cassandra has said, you only believe what you see. Yet, is it not ironic that you saw and heard an angel, Jack's deceased son, Charlie, and his and Sam's unborn daughter, Grace and yet you chose to not believe?"
"Because I think you Ancients like to mess with the heads of the less advanced Tau'ri."
"That is your choice, Daniel." She sighed.
"So would you like to view Christmas morning, before you got sick?"
"Oh, um, no that's okay." He winced at the memory.
"It is no problem." Oma offered with a knowing smile.
"No. Really. I mean it's amazing, how time affects one's memory. I suddenly recall what actually happened and well—"
"Too late." Oma snapped invisible fingers and grinned. "As Jack O'Neill, would say, suck it up, Daniel."
"Do I have to?"
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0630 Hours, Christmas Morning:
"You are confident O'Neill is home, Doctor Jackson?" Teal'c balanced an armful of wrapped packages while they stood in the bleak dawn's darkness on Colonel O'Neill's front porch.
"Sure, there's smoke from his chimney and look," Daniel pointed to the front window. "He's got a lighted Christmas tree. So not Jack."
"On the contrary, O'Neill is a child at heart, therefore I am not surprised he yielded to this holiday tradition. Conversely, should we not knock, instead of breaking and entering?" He tugged his black ski cap over his tattooed forehead and frowned at the younger man leaning on a crutch.
"Knowing Jack, he's still asleep. Besides, I've got my key, so we're just entering." Daniel jingled his chain of keys and hobble up to the wooden door.
"Perhaps we should have phoned or waited until mid-morning?" The Jaffa remained unwavering that this was not a judicious maneuver and held back.
"Power's still out in this section of town as are the phone lines and cellular towers. Besides, we're homeless, on Christmas, Teal'c. And that racket you hear is Jack's diesel generator. Trust me, being alone on Christmas, he'll be thrilled we showed."
"Past experience dictates you might be incorrect, Daniel Jackson."
"Nay. Besides, with that nasty food poisoning on base, we can't go to the SGC and I need to get off my ankle."
"We could return to your apartment."
"Four flight of stairs, I don't think so."
"I could carry you."
"Not going to happen."
"If you insist?"
"I do." Daniel grinned over his shoulder and unlocked the front door. "After you, Teal'c."
"I believe you should have that honor, Doctor Jackson."
With a shrug Daniel stepped into the open doorway and got slammed in the midsection by Cassandra's head, Teal'c observed, not to mention she seemed to have gotten a running start before impact.
"Ouch!" He buckled dropping full weight on his sprained right ankle, his crutch clamored against the floor before he landed hard on his pride.
"Uncle Daniel!" Cassandra wailed and lowered to her knees before him. "I'm sorry, really." She hugged the air gasping man.
"What the fricking h--!" Jack rushed down the hallway with Samantha Carter trailing and yawning. They came to an abrupt halt at the chaos that had invaded his home.
Confident he was no longer endangered; Teal'c stepped inside and shut the door against the icy gusts that had powdered the floor with snow. He calmly noted his friend's tousled graying hair and beard stubble. Clearly, the man had just awoken. Jack yawned wide, thrust his hand up his t-shirt and scratched his relaxed stomach. An amusing sight to say the least. Upon further observation, the colonel's clothing consisted of multi-colored boxers with a long necked bird's beak on his fly, a sleeveless, white t-shirt, and mismatched socks that emphasized his long bony-haired legs. His matching accessories consisted of a silver wristwatch and dog tags.
Teal'c also noted the man's antsy antics. Ah, yes, he suspected that per the usual routine upon awakening, O'Neill had a full bladder. Colonel Jack O'Neill in the morning was indeed a frightening sight to behold.
Leaning into O'Neill, Captain Samantha Carter looked equally sleepy, but far, more kinder on the Jaffa's eyes. Her blonde hair disheveled, the Air Force astrophysicist wore a red, high-necked long-sleeved sweater that emphasized her firm round breasts and slender curves. The sweater ended mid-thigh, leaving little to his manly imagination. Teal'c's appreciative gaze took in Samantha's long shapely legs and red-painted toenails. Why women decorated their nails still confounded him. At least it was universal. All in all, Samantha Carter was as he'd once heard an unguarded O'Neill say, "Hot!" Teal'c assumed their night had also been hot. He hoped.
"Good morning and a cheery Christmas, O'Neill, Captain Carter." He managed to maintain a stoic face when O'Neill's arm unconsciously slipped around Samantha's waist and his hand cradled her derriere.
"Back at ya, big guy." Jack continued his soft soled, tap dance.
"Yes, good morning, Teal'c." Samantha seemed to suddenly apprehend where Jack's hand rested and took an abrupt step to his left, leaving him clutching air. She proceeded to stare at her lack of attire and then at O'Neill's. A defined blush fused her pale cheeks. This was not the first time SG-1 had seen each other in their skivvies, but this current situation was a first, Teal'c reasoned. He felt highly amused.
Donning an apologetic look, Jack folded his hands over his boxer fly. "Um, this is so not how it looks, kids, we were in my bed, asleep and--." His hands windmilled.
"Indeed." Teal'c maintained his bland expression. Such times as this, he valued his disciplined stature of being former First Prime. He took great delight watching both of his friends squirm.
"Really," Sam insisted, backing away. "All three of us were asleep, right Cassandra?"
Not taking her eyes off of Daniel's pained expression, the girl sniffed and nodded at Samantha's request.
The captain mumbled something about putting on clothes and fled for Jack's bedroom, then slammed the door.
"Well, we were!" Jack insisted, then scowled at the downed man against the entranceway wall, where Cassandra knelt rubbing his neck. "Daniel?"
Wheezing, Daniel held up a hand, then dropped it limply to his lap, still hugging his mid-section.
"It's my fault, Daddy." Cassandra explained through tears. "I thought he was coming to steal our presents, so I head-butted him."
"Daddy," Daniel mouthed at Jack. Teal'c lifted a brow of inquiry.
"Long story, guys. And don't change the subject, Jackson." Jack glanced at Cassandra, who'd moved away from Daniel.
O'Neill helped Daniel to his feet, frowned at the linguist's bandaged ankle and shoved the crutch beneath his left armpit. "You're both welcomed here, guys, but when I return you best have a darn good explanation for this!" Without allowing Doctor Jackson a response, O'Neill turned and stalked down the hallway toward his bedroom.
"I think Dad's pissed at you, Uncle Daniel." Cassandra swiped her tears away and winked at Teal'c.
"Indeed," Teal'c agreed over his chin-high armful of packages.
"Well, we did catch them in the act," Daniel snorted and shrugged out his coat that Cass kindly hung on the wooden tree stand.
"Indeed." Teal'c's lips twitched.
"What does, in the act mean?" Cass looked inquisitively at Daniel.
"It means," he gulped and looked desperately at Teal'c.
"That we interrupted their slumber." Teal'c smiled at Cassandra.
"Oh, right." She shrugged.
"And did I not say that we should have contacted Colonel O'Neill first, Doctor Jackson?"
"I hate when you're right." Daniel complained.
"Indeed." Teal'c stepped into the living room to rid himself of the presents.
"One more `indeed,' out of you, Teal'c and I'll—,"
"What?" Giggling, Cassandra looked from the younger man to the Teal'c.
He turned and angled his brows into their danger mode while the linguist adjusted his glasses.
"Um, well, indeed is an appropriate word," Daniel conceeded.
"Indeed." Teal'c turned away to conceal his smile.
"Hey, let's put those gifts under the tree, guys." Cassandra took over. "Did you buy me one, Uncle Teal'c?"
"Indeed."
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"Sam?" Jack cautiously stepped into his bedroom to find her scrounging though her suitcase and cursing up a storm.
"Don't!" She flagged a hand at him.
"I've got to pee!"
"Oh, you always use that excuse."
"Do not!" Pigheaded, he stepped into the adjoining bathroom and left the door ajar. Standing over the raised toilet seat he expelled a relieved sigh and yelled back, "So what am I not suppose to do?"
"Talk to me!"
"Fine." He flushed, washed his hands and returned to find her tossing clothes like grenades. "Crap, now what's wrong?"
"Everything!"
"Why?" Oh, he knew why, but decided that to feign stupidity might save his ass with her, as it often had with the Goa'uld.
"I've never been so embarrassed in my life, sir."
"Sir? Oh, for crying out loud!" He snatched up his wrinkled jeans from the dirty clothes pile and shook his head.
"Just how did I end-up in your bed?"
"I carried you." He rolled his aching shoulders and so wasn't about to mention he thought she'd gained weight.
"I can't believe I didn't wake up."
He gawked then turned sarcastic. "Oh, yes, that's right. Captain Samantha Carter is on duty twenty-four seven. She never, ever sleeps like a rock, especially off-duty and in my arms. Heaven forbid she lost control and--"
"And you undressed me!" She pointed at her fashion statement sleepwear.
Jack flagged his hands. "Heck no! You were fully clothed. Maybe some elf slipped in and strip-searched you?"
"I'm so not laughing."
"Humph!"
"And explain why you were in your skivvies?" she waved an accusing finger at him.
"Fine. I got up around 0200 hours, stoked the fire, put Santa's gifts for Cass under the tree, let Spanky water my shrubs while I did the same."
"You urinated outside in a blizzard?" Her mouth dropped open.
"Hey, I'm a guy. Guys do that. Besides it felt refreshing and--."
"Spare me!" Sam shut her eyes and groaned.
"Fine! When I came back to bed, I did my normal routine. I stripped and got into bed. Sorry, if I didn't ask your royal highness's, permission." He sucked in a breath and snickered.
"Now you're being condescending." She turned away.
"Doh!" He tossed his hands toward the ceiling. "So help me, God?" And he meant that last request.
Sam swerved and gawped at his scrunched face. "And, just once, I'd wish you'd see things from my perspective."
"You saying I don't?" He sniffed the air and realized he needed to shower, shave and . . .He blew into a cupped hand then gagged. And so needed to swallow a gallon of mouthwash.
Watching his antics, Sam gestured at herself. "For Pete sakes, I'm wearing nothing but a-a clingy red sweater!"
"And you look mighty hot in that clingy red sweater," he quipped and winked suggestively.
"Jack, we just got caught by our team members at your house, undressed in your bed--"
"Technically we got caught in the hallway in our skivvies," he yanked off his soiled t-shirt and opened a dresser drawer. "With Cassandra in her PJ's, which has gotta count for something. Besides, Daniel and T already know how we feel about each other." Whoops, had he said that?
"Holy Hannah!" She fisted her hands at her hips. "Who else knows?"
"Well, Cassandra said Janet suspects." He shrugged. "But I've decided nothing is going to ruin Christmas. So let's drop this morbid discussion, shall we?"
Another string of vulgarities spewed from her lips.
"Hey, hey, have some respect, it's Christmas morning."
"Re-spe-ct?" she laughed crudely. "Good golly, sir, if Daniel, Teal'c and Janet know. We've already lost their respect."
Jack's patience breached its limit and his CO mindset came onboard. "Respect is earned, Carter. So far, what's been going down between us has not interfered with the professional respect of our team-members, let alone life and death decisions we make on a regular basis. If it had, Daniel, Teal'c, or Fraiser would have addressed the matter with General Hammond by now. They haven't. So chill!"
"Have you no dignity?" She glowered at his lack of concern over their situation.
Jack yanked a clean undershirt over his head then bent to step into his jeans. That action caused a certain bodily function his team had become accustomed to, especially early in the morning. He broke wind.
"Apparently not." He chuckled to lighten the mood. He hated fighting with Carter.
"Oh! Every things a stinking joke to you!" Sam grabbed her clothes, stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.
"Well, I must say, that went rather well, O'Neill." He scowled, inhaled then gagged. He wondered what he'd done with his chewable antacids.
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After he'd bathed and dressed, Jack entered the kitchen to find Daniel pouring a fresh pot of coffee. When the linguist handed him a full cup, Jack sipped the caffeine fix he'd desperately craved.
"Fruitcake?" Daniel offered as he sliced pieces off the fruit and nut stuffed confectionery. "Ferretti gave me a couple pounds. His mom baked three, ten pound cakes for the base."
"Yeah, I know." Jack wouldn't be sidetracked. "I'll have some later. Um, care to explain how come Teal'c went skiing with you?"
"Oh, uh," Daniel swallowed out loud. "Well, see, it's this way?"
Jack crossed his arms and waited with his Black Ops face. He loved to make Daniel writhe. Merry Christmas, Jack.
"See, I um," he fidgeted with his cup and fussed with a piece of cake.
"Yes?"
"Well, I'd asked him to go skiing before you asked him to the cabin."
"Ah." Jack sobered and nodded, realizing Teal'c would rather risk his life learning to downhill ski than spend a week with Jack at his cabin.
"But he didn't make up his mind until after you'd asked him and well, Hammond gave him clearance."
"Okay." Jack smiled and sipped his coffee.
"You're not ticked off?"
"Nope. Coz, I got payback." He grinned at Daniel's bandaged right ankle.
"Hey, this hurts worse than a break." He whined.
"I know. Been there, done that. Skiing can be dangerous to one's health."
"Yeah, but not apparently as dangerous as sleeping with Sam. We heard your screaming match way out here."
"Hey!" Jack waved him to shut up. He then glanced into the living room, where Cass sat on Teal'c's lap, eating donuts, gingerbread cookies and drinking milk.
"Don't worry, she's fine. However, she might need another session with Mackenzie. Apparently last night, she saw a giant angel named Clarence, a little girl named Grace who claims to be her future sister. And oh, your son, Charlie, showed up too."
Jack spewed his coffee across the counter's top.
"Wow! You okay?" Daniel smacked him between his shoulder blades.
"Auck!" He coughed as his eyes watered and he flagged Daniel to stop.
Complying, Daniel limped back to his stool and nursed his coffee. "So, um, Cass and angels aside, you seem to have gotten everything you wanted for Christmas." He smirked over his cup.
"For crying out loud, nothing happened!" Jack's voice cracked as he cleared his throat, then grabbed toweling and wiped off the stained work center.
"If you say so." Daniel chuckled.
"I do." He stalked over and got in Daniel's smiling face. "Two Air Force officers and an eleven-year old sleeping in the same bed doesn't constitute breaking the regs, Daniel."
"Hey, have you forgotten I was there with Kawalsky at O'Malley's? I wish you and Sam would admit you're nuts about each other so we can get on with life."
"Daniel," Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his voice. "The subject of my or Carter's feelings are not up for debate and such public acknowledge will get us court-martial."
"I'm not stupid or calloused, Jack, nor asking for a public broadcast announcement. A private yea or nay will suffice. Teal'c and I have agreed to keep your secret, secret. So, as friends, your respect and acknowledgment for our discretion would be highly appreciated!" Daniel snapped.
"You finished?" Jack poured a fresh cup and blew out through his lips.
"For the moment, I think . . ."
Jack sent him a snarky glint.
"Yep, that about does it." He coughed and adjusted his glasses. "But you should talk to Teal'c."
"Fine."
"Fine what?"
"Fine, on behalf of Sam and myself we appreciate your and Teal'c's loyalty and yes, I'll talk to him."
"So, want to talk more about you and Sam?" Daniel rubbed his hands together and grinned.
"No."
"Hey, can't blame a guy for asking."
"Daniel."
"What?"
"Shut up!"
Ten minutes later before his fireside chat with Teal'c, Jack hung up the kitchen phone and looked at his hands. They were trembling. Maude's son had just called with sad news. `Get a grip, Jack. Just because Maude died three days ago, doesn't mean she didn't send those packages of home cooked goodies, even though her son denies she ever did.'
Wait! He lifted the phone receiver and heard nothing but static. If the lines were still dead, how'd . . .?
"Hey?" Daniel poked his head around the doorway. "Was that the phone we heard?"
"No." Jack shook his head.
"Spooky weird." Daniel shrugged, "Maybe they're testing the lines." He walked back to the living room.
"Yeah." Jack stared at the dead telephone. He didn't want to think about how spooky weird these last two days had been. Settling on his stool he scrubbed his hands over his stress taut face, through his hair then vented, "Okay, Lord, how many other strange head games You got lined up for me? Wait, don't answer that!"
~*~
CHAPTER NINE
0800 Hours:
By the time Sam joined the others a good hour had passed. She found SG-1 and Cassandra sitting around the Christmas tree, waiting for her. The inviting aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the house, no doubt Daniel's handy work. Teal'c had bought donuts and everyone was devouring the confectioneries. Jack was nowhere in sight. Sam's heart gave a painful lurch. She'd no right blaming him for what appeared to be a huge breach in military regs on both of their parts. She needed to talk to him and apologize.
"Well it's about time," Cassandra lectured. Sam avoided Daniel and Teal'c's welcome smiles, though she did notice Daniel looked a bit peaked. She assumed Jack had reamed him out for showing up at 0630 hours.
"Sorry," she responded softly and smiled for Cass. "I suppose we want to open presents, huh?" She gestured to the three-foot high pile beneath the tree.
"Can't until dad shows." Cass frowned, plucking at a ribbon on a package addressed to her.
Sam nodded. She'd come to accept, and willingly, that in Cass's eyes, Jack was her surrogate father. "Where is he?" She glanced around the outer rooms then heard a scrapping noise from outside the front door.
"Shoveling." Daniel mumbled around a chocolate donut. "He's taking out his aggression on mother nature."
"Yeah, about that," Sam felt herself blush, "I didn't go to D.C., and Cass is here because . . ."
"Relax, Sam." Daniel chuckled. "Cass and Jack filled us in. Everything's cool."
"Cool? Good. Well, someone should get the colonel. Any takers?" She glanced from one to the other. Oblivious to her request, Cassandra jiggled the wrapped box. Daniel started to rifle through Jack's Christmas music collection.
Teal'c tilted his shiny baldhead and suggested, "Under the strenuous circumstances, I think it would be prudent if you accepted that assignment, Captain Carter."
"Um, yeah, right." She winced, gestured toward the front door, and then fetched her light jacket. However, she decided a tactical plan was in order. A few minutes later, she stepped out the front door juggling a steaming cup of coffee and a generous slice of fruitcake in her bare hands as a peace offering.
His back to her, Jack had almost cleaned off the sidewalk and was working his way toward the driveway. Since he had a snow blower she figured he was being a stubborn jackass. But on the other hand, far better he worked off his anger out here than for the others to deal with him inside. She didn't know how to approach him, but the emotional coward she was, Sam opted for a military approach.
"Colonel, Cassandra wants to open presents."
He nodded and kept shoveling. "Be there in a few, get back inside." He sniffed a nose-full.
"I'll wait, sir."
"Knock yourself out."
She shook her head and held out the coffee cup. "Brought you something hot."
"Thanks." He braced the shovel's handle against his chest then avoiding her cautious gaze, took the cup, tasted its contents, then accepted the slice of fruitcake.
Despite their emotional standoff, Sam smiled. He'd shaved but missed a few chin hairs. Per usual Jack wore the same black knit cap he took everywhere, even off world. And, per usual, it was jammed over his ears and forehead grazing his dark brows. The tip of his nose had turned candy apple red and the ice droplets that mustached the bow of his mouth had melted from the coffee's steam. He looked good enough to lick.
Munching the cake, he caught her stare. "What?" His thin mouth remained flat but slightly open.
"You're dripping, sir." She extracted a tissue from her pocket but when she gestured to wipe his face, he yanked the paper from her. "Sorry." She shut her eyes, reprimanding herself. She didn't blame him for acting indifferent. After all, she'd treated him like a dog.
"Hey, shit happens." He shrugged and shoved down the rest of the cake, then drank the coffee.
"No. I'd no right. It's just that my entire career flashed before my eyes and I envisioned the words, court martial stamped across my personnel files." She patted her cold arms, thankful it'd stopped snowing and the icy winds had died.
"You don't think I saw the same thing?" He handed off the empty cup and then blew into the tissue.
"No, I . . . Just sometimes, you're so cavalier and it makes me mad, makes me think the Air Force no longer matters to you."
"Carter?" His formal address made her heart sink.
"Sir?"
"Age and life experiences alter perspective. You're young and career focused. I'm a cranky full-blown colonel with bad knees. My ambitions have changed. Let's face it, if it weren't for those snakeheads, I'd be living in the land of a thousand lakes, aye." He waggled his brows.
"And we'd never have met."
"Oh, don't know about that. I figure if the Man upstairs intended us to be together, it'd happen no matter what. My point is I will never, ever do anything that could jeopardize your career, Sam. And if it's any consolation I talked with Daniel and Teal'c, so there's no need for you to feel concern or broach the subject.
"They understand how we feel for one another, and that we have no intention to break the frat rules. Our secret is safe with them. In fact, if either had their way, we'd be hitched and making babies."
"Oh, brother." She smiled. "But what about Janet?"
"Well, I'll talk to her when she picks up Cass- -"
"No. You took on Daniel and Teal'c. I'll handle Janet. We've become pretty close since Cassandra came into our lives. I know she's suspected the last few months, even hinted, but I always diverted the subject. Guess it's time to come clean with her."
"You're sure about this?" He made a face.
"No. But there's only one way to find out."
"Cold?" He seemed to realize she wore her light jacket.
"Getting there." She shivered.
"C'mere." She stepped into his outstretched arms and burrowed into his embrace. "Truce?" he sheepishly asked rubbing his icy nose against her cheek.
"Truce." She nodded and smiled. She loved him more everyday.
"Hey, you guys!" Cassandra had opened the door and stepped onto the porch in her pajamas. "I want my presents!"
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Janet called. Things were improving at the SGC and if all went well, she'd arrive to get Cassandra late-morning. After the call, Cass pulled into herself and pouted.
"Hey, Sunshine," Jack found her in the kitchen on a stool, staring at the snow-washed trees. "Let's get at opening gifts." He rubbed his hands together with eager enthusiasm and motioned toward the living room.
"Mom's coming."
"I know. We'll save her presents for when she arrives."
"Just peachy."
"We can wait and open them all when she gets here?"
"Whatever."
Jack scowled. Odd, how he and Cass seemed to gravitate toward each other emotionally, not to mention the kid had picked up Jack's lippy attitude and one-liners.
Making a decisive decision he sauntered over to her. "Cass, honey, I'm going to tell you something that only Sam and I know and you must never tell Janet you know."
"Promise." Cass faced him, her mouth still tugged low.
After he pulled up a stool, Jack faced her and grasped her small hands and rubbed his thumbs across the back of her soft skin. He glanced about to make sure they were alone, then said softly, "Janet can never have children."
"She can't?" Cass's brown eyes rounded up.
"No."
"Because she's not married?"
"No. I'm note sure of the medical reasons, but, the point, is she can't ever carry a baby. Which is why, when she had the opportunity to adopt you, Sam and I encouraged her. She loves you like her own daughter, Cassandra. So please try and make this work between you two?"
"Okay." She sniffed. "I'll try, Dad. But it's hard when I know that you and Sam - -"
"What?"
Staring behind him, she blanched and nodded. "Yeah, I won't."
"Excuse me?" Jack glanced over his shoulder, but found the dinning room empty.
"That, if possible, you and Sam would have adopted me."
"Yeah," he solemnly sighed, "But we couldn't. So you must accept that besides your new mom, Janet, who loves you to pieces, you've got four adopted uncles and an aunt to spoil you rotten, Sunshine."
"Then you don't want me to call you dad anymore?" Her diminutive grip tightened on his wrist.
"Um, I don't mind, Cass, but let's make sure it's fine with your mom, first?" He fingered her shoulder length tresses pondering how the reddish-brown color reminded him of Charlie's, not to mention her dimpled chin and the tiny indent between her brows.
"Deal, Dad." She shoved off and into his lap and they cuddled. Holding Cassandra felt right. Jack kept his tears at bay and remembered she wasn't his, never would be. When he opened his damp eyes he found Sam occupying the dining room doorway smiling at them. Before she spoke, a silent understanding passed between the couple and Jack nodded.
"Um, hate to break up this Kodak moment, guys, but Teal'c has threatened to bring Junior out to play if we don't open presents pronto."
Jack made a full body shudder. "Oy! We don't want that, do we, kiddo?" He ruffled Cassandra's hair and lifted her off his lap.
"No way!" She giggled and skipped into the living room.
Jack turned to follow but Sam engaged his forearm. He turned and gave her a quizzical expression. "What?"
"Thanks."
"Now what'd I not do?" he felt confused.
"It's what you did for Cass just now."
"Oh, that. Hey, I got just as much, if not more from that bear hug."
Sam nodded and a tear shimmied down her cheek.
"Hey, what's this really about?" He captured the teardrop and drew her closer.
Sam's mouth quivered. "I, um." She shut her eyes and looked away.
"Sam? No secrets remember?"
She hugged herself and shrugged. "Every since the incident at the abandoned nuclear facility when I was in the elevator and had to leave Cassandra, the reason I couldn't leave her down there to die alone was because," she shook her head and turned from him. "I felt as if someone very important, who'd been taken from me, had been finally returned. That someone was Cass, Jack." She swiped her wet nose with the back of her hand.
"Hey." He cupped her quivering shoulders and turned her to face him. "I know." With the palm of his hand, he rubbed gentle circles across her back and smiled down at her.
"You do?"
"Yeah. Queer as it sounds, I feel the same. I've no scientific explanation. I just know and feel the three of us are somehow bonded. Believe me, Sam, if there were a way around this snakehead stew and the fricking regs, we'd be a family."
"I believe you." She sniffed and smiled.
"Good." They embraced while Sam collected herself.
"Now, Dorothy, we've got to stop meeting like this," he chuckled in her ear.
"Yeah, returning to our work status next week's going to be rough."
"Ain't that the truth? I'm expecting severe withdrawal symptoms." He mused as he reluctantly let go and ushered them toward the living room. "Now let's open presents, Captain."
"Aye, aye, Skipper!"
~*~
CHAPTER TEN
Cass was like a kid in a candy store. So was Teal'c, who actually smiled twice during the gift opening ceremony. He loved the suede cowboy jacket Sam and Janet bought him but wasn't sure about the hair blower from Jack.
Cass bought Teal'c a dozen beeswax candles and mood music, while Daniel gave him a used set of Encyclopedia Britannica.
Even Spanky got gifts, including a chew bone from Jack that outweighed the small dog.
Jack kept the one-liners coming and, if Sam were to ponder who was the bigger child, Jack or Cass, the award went to the man who'd conquered her heart, Jack O'Neill. She discovered he had a thing for wearing stick-on-bows on his face and head. He looked —adorable.
Daniel, on the other hand, was a party pooper. He opened two gifts then called it quits. He made way too many trips to the bathroom and had that pasty death-warmed over look. No doubt something he'd eaten or the painkillers for his ankle pain had upset his stomach. He now sat curled up on the sofa with two blankets dozing between potty runs.
In the meantime, Teal'c had raided the kitchen and was hauling food and beverages out to the coffee table.
"This is for you, Samantha." Jack handed over a large colorful wrapped present.
"Thank you. Wait." Before opening her present, she dug behind Daniel and Janet's wrapped gifts. "And this one's yours. Merry Christmas, Jack."
He grinned from ear-to-ear and while Sam took her time to salvage the fancy ribbons, he tore into her multi-layered wrapped package. "You're evil," he chuckled when he hit the third sheet of Christmas paper.
"Had a good teacher." She wagged her brows. Jack leaned over and plastered a large green bow on her forehead.
Cassandra knelt in her pile of paper and ribbons looking over Jack's shoulder. "Hurry up!" She tugged his arm.
"That's easy for you to say, you didn't have a vindictive astrophysicist wrap your present."
"Yes, I did, she just loves me more." Cassandra sassed back.
Sam got her gift opened first and lifted the lid. "Oh my, go . . ." she stopped awestruck and Jack winked. "I mean, oh my goodness!" She lifted the expensive black leather jacket out of the box. "It's gorgeous, Jack!"
He beamed. "There's an insulated liner inside. Hope it fits."
She jumped to her feet and slipped it on. "Perfect." She twirled for a preview.
"Yeah," Jack's lips twitched as he smiled up at her. "Perfect."
Sam shoved her hands inside the deep lined pockets and found matching fur-lined gloves.
Grinning, Jack popped the lid of his white box and his face went blank. He folded back the white tissue paper and lifted the new leather bomber jacket. Sam watched as the largest smile spread across his handsome face. Their jackets matched and came from the same leather good store. Ah, great minds.
"Sweet." Jack winked at Sam. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." She didn't look away when he held her gaze.
"Nice taste, Aunt Sam." Cassandra smirked. "I'd say you two know each other inside and out."
Sam blushed.
Jack cleared his throat and slipped on his Christmas present. "Like I said, sweet." He flaunted about like a male model.
"Hum." Teal'c nodded agreement, stuffed another slice of fruitcake into his large mouth then offered Daniel a piece.
"Ugh!" The linguist clutched his stomach and despite his ankle, bolted through the wads of colored paper, bows and ribbons for the bathroom.
"Was it something I said?" Jack waggled his brows.
"Doubt it." Sam's lips bowed downward. "And considering we're all up on our shots, I don't think it's a flu bug. Maybe something he ate in Aspen."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Food poisoning usually strikes fast. And you, Cass and myself have eaten a little of everything Maude sent over and we're fine."
The doorbell rang and Jack leaped to his feet, suspecting it was Fraiser. Without looking out the window, he swept the door open and did his best Santa Claus voice. "Ho-ho Merry Christmas—"
"To you too," General Hammond stood with an arm full of gifts, grinning. "I love what you've done with your hair, son."
"Doh! Sorry, sir." He reached to remove the colored ribbons and bows that Cass had stuck to his head.
"Don't be. I'm glad to see you're in the holiday spirit. Might I come in for a moment?"
"Oh, yeah, certainly, sir." Jack backed into the hallway and loudly announced, "Look everyone, General Hammond's here."
From the living room there were sounds of rustling paper and bodies as the general stomped the snow from his feet and stepped in to join them.
"General Hammond," Sam shoved from her floor seat beside Cassandra and smoothed Jack's wrinkled green flannel that she'd wore over her black shirt.
"At ease, Captain, and you too, Teal'c. I just stopped over to drop off some presents."
Standing behind the general, Jack made a face at Sam and shrugged his shoulders. Sam pointed to his decorated hair and frowned. Jack grinned. "I have his blessing, Captain." He pointed to Sam's green bow on her forehead. She yanked it off and blushed profusely.
"You all have my blessings," he handed them each a gift, the largest one being for Cassandra. "I was told Doctor Jackson was here."
"Momentarily indisposed, sir." Jack covered for him.
"Oh, well. Give him my best."
"Of course we will, sir. But we'd love if you joined us, General Lunch is almost ready." Sam offered.
"Oh yeah!" Cass chimed in and hugged the big man. He hugged her back and pressed a kiss to her head.
Jack frowned and made a big, no way Jose, flat hand sweep behind the Man.
As if aware of Jack's antics, George chuckled. "I'd love to, Cassandra, but I'm on my way home to where two rug rats await their granddad's full attention." He turned just as Jack dropped his hands, coughed and forged a smile.
"Gosh that's a shame, sir," Jack sighed, "I mean, that you can't stay." He opened the door way too hastily.
"Wait, sir!" Sam called out.
"Indeed." Teal'c agreed.
Jack's eyes doubled in size. Were they nuts? Pulling a face, he gave Sam a head nudge toward the door.
"Here," Sam and Cassandra carried a large gift over to him. "This is for you, sir, from SG-1."
"Well, thank you, Teal'c, Samantha, and," He presented a huge Texan smile turned and held Jack's stupefied look, "You too, Jack."
"Hey, think nothing of it, sir." He glanced at Sam and mouthed, "What'd we get him?"
With-holding valuable Intel, she rolled her eyes and her lips twitched. He'd get even later.
"Oh, by the way, folks. Doctor Fraiser discovered the source of the food poisoning epidemic on base."
"Really?" Jack held the door open wider.
"Yes, apparently Major Ferretti's homemade fruitcake is the culprit. Thankfully, none of you ate any or you'd be spending your Christmas in the head." Leaving everyone speechless and himself none-the wiser General Hammond bid goodbye and left.
"Crap!" Jack shut the door against the blistering cold.
Sam looked over at the partial piece of cake on her paper plate. "I ate one and a half," she swallowed, turning pale.
"I nibbled on one, but didn't like it," Cass confessed.
"I have eaten four substantial slices." Teal'c's full lips straight lined. "Fortunately my symbiote will protect me. Three sets of gaping eyes turned to Jack.
"Five!" Jack belched at the thought and leaned against the door.
"Five," Sam asked in disbelief.
"Hey, I like fruitcake!" He launched to his feet and ran for the phone. "Walter, put me through to Fraiser." Sam followed on his heels. He looked livid.
"Doc, O'Neill here. Hey, we've got a little situation here. Um, about Ferretti's fruitcake, well, you're going to get a giggle over this one. . ."
Ten seconds later, he held the phone away from his ear as Fraiser ranted on, including, "I hope you've got plenty of toilets, Colonel!"
Jack covered the mouthpiece and winced at Sam. "Man, is she pissed!"
~*~
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Man, was Jack pissed! Twenty minutes later no one else but Daniel was sick . . .yet. For what good it did, Jack chewed Danny while the dying linguist worshiped the porcelain throne with both orifices of his anatomy. Jack then had Teal'c haul Daniel to the basement's activity room that hosted, Jack's hockey memorabilia, a sofa's hide-a-bed, bar and bathroom.
"So help me, Danny, if I get sick you are going to wish you had broken that ankle!"
Too ill to lip off, Daniel took his verbal medicine and moaned as he curled up on the sofa bed Sam had made up for him.
"Jack, it's not Daniel's fault. The poor man had no idea the fruitcake was tainted."
"In my book, he's guilty until proven guilty." Jack groused.
Sam stayed equally defiant. "Food poisoning is not contagious. You and I have strong constitutions. The point is it won't matter where we put Daniel. We'll all get sick sooner or later. It's just a matter of how bad."
"I know. But this house has two bathrooms. If the three of us get sick, we're going to need them. I'll bunk down here with Daniel and you and Cass can have the upstairs. I think I've got some clean fish-bait pails in the garage we can use for the vomit." He cringed at the thought.
"O'Neill, since my symbiote protects me, I'll be of whatever service you need rendered."
"Thanks, T." Jack pressed a smile and trudged backup the steps. He wouldn't admit his gut already hurt and his lower intestines were about to erupt and it wasn't natural gas.
So far Cass hadn't shown any symptoms and was picking up the living room. Dang! The thought of his little girl getting food poisoning further pissed him off more. Maybe they should get her to the ER and have her stomach pumped?
The phone rang. "O'Neill, here," he muttered holding his queasy stomach against the sharp stabbing pains.
"Colonel, this is Doctor Fraiser, I'm on my way over with some medicine to push this through your stomachs faster. How's Cass?"
"Fine so far. See you in a few, Fraiser, and make like a bunny, chop, chop!"
Jack had no sooner hung up than he heard.
"Oh my gosh! Thanks, Dad!" Cassandra announced from the sunken living room.
Jack stepped into the room to find Cassandra kneeling by the tree with . . . his mouth dropped open, his Wayne Gretzky autographed hockey stick. "How in the h - -!" He marched over and yanked it from her grasp. "Why'd you take this from my closet, Cass?" his voice pitched with emotion and it wasn't kind.
"I - - I didn't." Her smile crumbled. "I found this way under the tree with a Christmas bow and sticker addressed to me."
"Well, it's not yours." He shook the ice stick at her. "This was meant to go to my son Charlie."
"Oh-oh," Cassandra emotionally fumbled.
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"Hey what's going on?" Breathless, Sam rushed up behind Jack and glanced at his angry bluster and then Cass's crest fallen expression and the tears swelling in her big brown eyes.
"You might want to ask your niece." Jack huffed holding the collector item to his chest like a possessive child.
"Um, no, I heard enough." Sam's critical tone brought Jack down a notch. She lifted the Christmas card tied to the red ribbon and read, "Merry Christmas to my little sister, Cassandra. Take good care of Wayne's stick for me, or Dad will kill you. Always, Charlie O'Neill."
"That's nuts!" Jack yanked the card from her hand and then scanned the scrawl penmanship. "Dear Jesus!" The blood drained from his tan. He released the stick and bolted for the bathroom.
Sam caught the hockey stick before it clambered to the floor. Seconds later, Jack's undeniable retching burned their ears.
"I'm so sorry." Crying, Cassandra got to her feet and leaped into Sam's open arms. "I didn't mean to make dad sick or mad."
"It's not your fault, hon." Sam soothed her long hair and rubbed her shaking back. "There's been a misunderstanding, is all. We'll get this worked out, okay? And he's sick from the fruitcake, not you." She pulled back and gave the child a reassuring look.
"I hate when he's sick and he's never been mad at me, well, just the time I ate the last Froot Loops." She sniffed. "But he was just kidding then."
"I know. I'll go check on him, okay?"
"K," she wiped her wet nose on Sam's sweater sleeve. "Um, sorry."
"How about you check on Uncle Daniel and Teal'c?"
Cassandra nodded but glanced at the wooden hockey stick. "Why would Dad sign the card from Charlie to me, then take the hockey stick away?"
"Maybe he changed his mind. This stick was very important to Jack."
"Oh." Cassandra rolled her slender shoulders and walked away.
After Cassandra was downstairs, Sam took the stick and stalked toward the bathroom. It was locked. Two could play this game. She entered his bedroom and found that bathroom door ajar. Sam drew a breath of resolve. She knew he was upset, but surely he'd written the card and given it to Cassandra. If not him, then someone one was playing a cruel joke. Either way, she must tread carefully. She glanced at the hand scrawl. There was a slight similarity to Jack's penmanship but not enough to make it a sure thing.
She recalled Cassandra babbling on about a visit last night by an angel and two small children, one being Jack's son Charlie. An icy shiver tracked the length of her spine, but Sam reminded herself that she didn't believe in ghosts.
With the ice stick in hand, Sam opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. The toilet had just flushed and Jack hung over the sink, splashing water on his pale face. She hadn't seen him this sickly since Hathor tried to make him her First Prime.
"You all right?" She offered a clean hand towel as he lifted his dripping wet face from beneath the faucet.
"Ya think?" He took the towel and with shaking hands wiped his face dry.
Sam stepped over and gently removed the remaining bows sticking to his mop of hair. "You really upset Cassie."
"Tough. She'd no right." He turned his head and glared, his brown eyes fused with black coldness.
"You'd no right! She's just a child, Jack, a year older than when Charlie - -"
"Died. I know." He swept by her, yanked the stick from her hand and stalked into his bedroom. "And I didn't give this to her and never would!"
"You Irish dimwit." Sam was on him. "How dare you!"
"Dare I what?" He flopped onto the bed and holding the stick, turned away from her and shut his eyes.
"Act like a selfish spoiled brat." She walked to the other side of his bed and got into his face, then spoke softer. "Jack, something strange is going down here. This has got to be the weirdest Christmas of my life. If you didn't write that card, then who did? Furthermore, why did you look so shocked when you read what I'd just read out loud?"
"Go away before I barf on you, Carter."
"Oh, now it's Carter." She snorted. "Funny. Long as things are sweet and romantic between us we're Jack and Sam. Soon as it gets real and gritty, we're back to colonel and captain."
"Careful!" He opened his dark eyes and Sam cringed at the hollowness that stared at her. Yet to back down would be a mistake.
"Who wrote this, Jack?" She lifted the card and thrust it in his face.
"Charlie." He laughed crudely.
"That's impossible."
"Tell me about it." He sat up and to her surprise walked to his dresser and rummaged through the top drawer. He pulled out a batch of cards secured with a rubber band. "Here," he tossed them at her.
Sam caught the bundle, slid off the rubber band and opened a card.
"They're birthday and Christmas cards from Charlie to me and Sara."
Sam nodded and started to scan them, her gaze tracking across typical greetings to the immature penmanship of a nine or ten-year old. "Holy Hannah!" She grabbed the card from the hockey stick and held it beside one of Charlie's signatures. "They're the identical."
"Brilliant deduction, Watson!" Jack snorted and dropped back onto the bed, holding his head.
"There must be a scientific explanation." Sam sat beside him and hugged herself.
He snorted, lifted his head and glanced over. Tears watered his chocolate eyes. She didn't know if it was the fruitcake or emotion. Either way, the scary darkness had vanished. Jack was back. "You really don't get it, Sam."
"What do you mean?"
"When will you accept that science doesn't have all the answers? People don't just live, croak, then cease to exist. I mean, if all we have to look forward to are sixty to eighty years and then rotting in a cold grave, why bother? What's the fricking point?"
Sam opened her mouth to argue but Jack held up a hand. "Let me finish before I make another trip to the head."
"K."
"I believe there's a Heaven and a Hell, Sam. So'd Charlie, and for whatever reason, the Man upstairs allowed him to drop in, and write that card to Cassandra."
"You've got to be kidding?"
"Nope. For once I'm serious. Now if you'll excuse me." He bolted for the bathroom, slammed the door shut and vomited.
Hearing him lose his stomach, Sam fought the rumbling of her own intestines. She had no idea if it was fruitcake or the unnerving thought that Jack believed Charlie wrote the Christmas card gift to Cassandra.
Ten minutes later:
Janet showed up, and in order to purge the poison from their systems quicker, she gave Daniel and Sam a dose of an Ipecac to make them vomit up their stomach contents. Jack vehemently declined, stating he'd nothing left to bring up or shoot out the other end. He and Daniel and got sicker and Jack didn't have the strength to climb the stairs to the basement. Sam insisted he keep his bed and she'd bunk with Cassandra. Cass confessed she'd not even eaten a bite because the fruitcake looked gross. Smart kid.
Sam vomited once then got diarrhea. With her need to be close to a toilet, Janet insisted she bunk beside Jack. Sam argued she could reach the bathroom from the sofa, but after an embarrassing incident, she flopped alongside Jack and prayed for death to come swiftly.
Soon as Teal'c got queasy he engaged in Kelnorim and after a few hours felt fine. When Cassandra told her mom she wanted to help out, Janet asked that she make sure their patients drank plenty of fluids or she'd have to hook up I.V's. Not wanting any needles, Jack drank like a thirsty cow. She hated to leave but the base had called needing her to return.
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"Wakey, wakey, Jack."
"Kawalsky?" Rubbing the crust from his eyes, Jack blinked and bolted upright in bed while beside him, Sam slept like a rock.
"Yep." His old buddy sauntered toward him wearing green BDU's.
"Oka-ay." Jack rubbed the heels of his palms against his aching temples. "So, I can't explain Bing and Jimmy, well, other than they're pushing up daisies. But you," he pointed at Major Charles Kawalsky, "are the bile-product of a bug infested fruitcake."
"Sorry, pal, but I'm not indigestion."
"Indigestion!" Jack balked. "I wish. We're talking coughing my brains out of both holes here. Which means you're so not real, Charlie."
"Look, Jack, I've got no time to play our old gross-out games. I'm here to tell ya, that you done good when ya shut down the Stargate on my snake-infested skull. And you were right; I died on that operating table. I love you, Jack. And even though I miss your snarky mouth and lame jokes, I'm having a blast up here."
"Up here?" Jack's voice bottomed out.
"Yeah, Heaven. It's way cool. Anyway, you and Carter got some bumpy roads ahead, but the Boss said you're to hang in there together, and trust Him twenty-four-seven."
"The-the boss?" Jack swallowed.
"Yeah, you know the Alpha and Omega, Keeper of the Stars, God Almighty? Oh, well, gotta boogie. We've got this honking birthday party going on and I want some cake. Okay," he waved at Jack's ceiling, "Beam me up, Scotty."
"Wait!" he called out. "Who wins the Super Bowl?"
"Nice try, Jack." Kalawsky's chuckle drifted back.
"This is so not happening." Yawning, Jack dropped his head on the pillow and feeling at peace, began to snore.
Several hours later:
Waking up, Jack smacked his pasty lips and hugged the warm body pressed up beside him. Ironic how even sicker than a dog and with the base CMO in his house, they gravitated toward each other. Oh, he knew it was Sam and with the bedroom door wide opened he dared to nuzzle that warm, pliable spot between her shoulder blades. That's when he realized she'd stripped down to her bra and panties. Like him, she'd been dealing with hot and cold sweats for hours.
His hairy bare legs had managed to become intertwined with her soft limbs. Well, okay, hers needed a shave but so did his, not to mention he'd missed his mid-day beard shave. Talk about a five-o-clock shadow, so cliché, Jack.
Ore clearly conscious now, he became aware their arms were coupled and not just anywhere. Sam held his forearm directly over the swell of her breasts, which rose and fell with each sleeping breath she drew. Despite feeling crappy John-John wanted to come out and play. Nope, time to bail, O'Neill!
His stomach cramps had long subsided but he felt completely drained of energy. He felt better. The worst was over thankfully. Jack squeezed his eyelids shut and fantasized they were married with children. He snorted softly, thinking of that television show he swore to be a crappy take on the Simpsons. Any-who, where was he? Oh yeah, married to Carter, making love, making babies and . . .Oy! His blood heated. Jack carefully untangled himself then vaulted out of bed for the bathroom. No, he wasn't sick, just horny and needed to get over it quick. A cold shower was in order.
Twenty minutes later, with his testosterone fire extinguished, a showered, shaved, and refreshed Jack exited through the bathroom's hallway door and into his dark house. With a gift in hand, he stepped into the guest room to find Cassandra and Spanky snoring in unison. Jack swore that dog thought it was human.
Kneeling before Cassandra, Jack placed the hockey stick on the pillow alongside her, with his own separate note. His anger had long dissipated. Now was the time to let go of the past and look to the future. Jack didn't question the miracle of Charlie's handwriting on that Christmas card.
And, although he didn't believe in talking to the dead, he felt little harm in saying, "Thanks for the wakeup call, son." Pressing an airy kiss across Cassandra's smooth brow, he pushed to his feet and left.
As the door closed, Cassandra opened her sleepy eyes and hugged the hockey stick. "Don't worry, Charlie, I'll take good care of this stick, and especially our dad."
~*~
CHAPTER TWELVE
Taking his time, Jack walked the stairs into the basement sickroom. While Daniel snored on the hide-a-bed, an air mattress cradled the sleeping Jaffe. Like everyone else, Space Monkey, had survived the attack of the killer fruitcake. Jack sighed relief.
Intending to return upstairs, he spotted his guitar case and retrieved the instrument. Not that he planned to entertain anyone, just figured to sit and strum a few cords in the quiet of his living room.
Upstairs, the Christmas tree lights glowed and someone had fed the fireplace. Entering the kitchen, he glanced at the wall clock. Almost midnight. Well, so much for a fun Christmas day, he mused, although one way or another he'd spent it with the ones he loved most. Jack still felt off kilter but his appetite was returning. Though, no way in the world would he ever eat fruitcake. What a Christmas memory this would be.
Settling before the hearth, he took the old guitar from the case and fine-tuned the strings. Ow! It'd been awhile, so he dug out the plastic guitar pick. As he began to strum, Jack recalled the amazing strange events of the last two days and compared them to the weird stuff that he and SG-1 encountered on a daily basis both off world and even on base.
He wondered whether he and Sam had actually entertained angels. And that the angel Cassandra called Clarence, also went by the name of Chuck O'Malley, Charlie Brown and George Bailey? He remembered Charlie's gift to Cassandra. And then there was Jack's dream with Charles Kawalsky. It'd been a dream, right? Strange. Out of the blue, he realized that four of those names were some version Charlie. Clearly symbolic. Jack shoved the disquieting assumption aside. After all, he knew the definition for assuming.
Strumming more confidently, his unsteady fingers became reacquainted with the guitar strings. Jack then recalled how over two-thousand-years ago a much stranger thing had happened right here on earth. How one tiny baby boy had changed the world.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Soon as Jack had vacated the bathroom, Sam claimed the room and showered. She'd begun to feel human again, especially when Jack had snuggled with her in bed. It'd been difficult but she'd managed to fool him into thinking she was asleep. She'd also felt his physical response to their intimate proximity and it'd taken most of her willpower to not respond. Thankfully, just as she was about to give-in he'd bolted for the bathroom. She didn't want to think about what he'd done in that shower, nope, no way, Jose.
Thirty minutes later, she brushed her damp hair from her fresh scrubbed face and slipped into a matching mint green sweat pants and sweatshirt. There was nothing sexy in her choice and for a good reason. She knew Janet had left but could show up anytime to claim Cassandra. Sam didn't blame her and felt horrible that Janet had missed out on Cassandra's first Christmas. And yet, Sam experienced a serious dose of joy because she and Jack had had the precious child to themselves. Also, Daniel had snapped plenty of pictures of Cassandra and Teal'c opening their first Christmas presents. Sam, Jack, even Teal'c had insisted Daniel develop double triplicates of those memorable moments.
Soft guitar music resounded from the living room and Sam figured the guys were playing Jack's stereo. She quietly left the bedroom to find Cassandra leaning alongside her bedroom door peering down the hall. Sam's heart squeezed with pleasure as she realized it wasn't the stereo and she knew that Christmas song.
Sam tiptoed up beside Cassandra and eased an arm around her slim shoulders and then made a hushing gesture. The girl nodded and smiled as they made their way to the beautiful guitar music accompanied by a familiar baritone voice.
"Sure he must have been surprised/At where this road had taken him/'Cause never in a million lives/Would he had dreamed of Bethlehem/And standing at the manger/He saw with his own eyes/The message from the angel come to life/And Joseph said- -
"Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade/Why Him, with all the rulers in the world/Why here inside this stable filled with hay/Why her, she's just an ordinary girl/Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say/But this is such a strange way to save the world . . .
"To think of how it could have been/If Jesus had come as He deserved/There would have been no Bethlehem/No lowly shepherds at His birth/But Joseph knew the reason/Love had to reach so far/And as he held the Savior in his arms/He must have thought . . ."
Sam sang along softly, "Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade/Why Him, with all the rulers in the world/Why here inside this stable filled with hay/Why her, she's just an ordinary girl."
Jack smiled as the women of his life joined him on the hearth. He continued to play and sang the chorus with Sam,
" . . . Now I'm not one to second-guess what angels have to say/ But this is such a strange way to save the world/This is such a strange way to save the world . . .Saving the world."
Cassandra slipped her arm around Jack as he strummed the last cords. Giving his most generous O'Neill smile, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "A blessed merry Christmas, Cassandra."
"Thanks. Merry Christmas, Dad and M . . .uum, Sam."
"Yeah sure yabetcha," they said and hugged her.
Breaking free, Cassandra shoved to her feet, pulled out the battered mistletoe from her pajama-top pocket and dangled the evergreen sprig over Sam and Jack's head. "Kiss the girl!" she ordered Jack.
"Well, I aim to please, ma'am." Jack winked, leaned the guitar against the hearth and before Sam could protest, he dipped her in his arms and kissed her solid.
Cass grinned at her kissing parents then glanced to the Christmas tree where three heavenly spirits had materialized in a glorious ball of white light that shone down from heaven above.
"You did, good, little sis." Charlie winked at her.
"Thanks, big bro," Cassandra said from her heart and smiled back. Grace waved and then she and Charlie vanished. Clarence expanded his enormous white-feathered wings and began to ascend heavenward. Cassandra gaped at his splendid exodus.
When Jack and Sam broke their kiss and drew Cassandra into their loving embrace, Clarence smiled and said with the rest of God's angels, "On this most holy of nights, merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."
The End . . . Not, if you believe!
Story Notes: Others: Cassandra, Daniel, Teal'c, Fraiser, Hammond, Charlie O'Neill, and one special guardian angel.
Content Warnings: Christian Christmas Theme
Category: holiday/romance/angst/hurt/humor
The ongoing, `Chosen Hearts' series, which not chronological written, begins with Jack and Sam's first romantic encounter before SG-1 to present SG-1 season whether S9 or S10. Please read `Charade' for setup of rest of, `Chosen Hearts,' series that will include Black Ops flashbacks, and references to `Charade.' Other than the twists I've first introduced and a few surprises along the way, this series is canon based.
No copyright infringement intended for the movies or memorable characters: The Bells of Saint Mary ©1945/It's A Wonderful Life ©1946/A Charlie Brown Christmas, Charles M. Schulz ©1965.
Song lyrics: The Very Best Time Of The Year/Most Wonderful Time Of The Year ©1963, Eddie Pola, George Wylie/Twelve Days Of Christmas' public domain/Strange Way To Save The World ©1994 -4Him.
Before I saw the SamandJack fic challenge for a Season 1 Sam and Jack Christmas, this was a WIP. You don't have to read the Chosen Hearts Series to enjoy this seasonal romance. Basically, Sam and Jack were romantically involved before SG-1. Enjoy and have a very merrry Christmas!
If you want please read Charades/Crap So Not Going Fishing/Dreams aren't Made of Gold
Beta Thanks: Carol Sue, what'd I do without your grammar skills, patience, encouragement, and wacko sense of humor? To quote Jack, "It's whom, not who, moron!"
Dedication: To Constance in Germany. I asked God a question. His answer was you: A humble reminder that all things are possible, when we dare believe the improbable. And to, the Keeper of the Stars, Happy Birthday!
HailDorothy 2005 ©.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Email: hdorothy@gmail.com
Archive:SamandJack YES!
Content Warnings: Christian Christmas Theme
Category: holiday/romance/angst/hurt/humor
The ongoing, `Chosen Hearts' series, which not chronological written, begins with Jack and Sam's first romantic encounter before SG-1 to present SG-1 season whether S9 or S10. Please read `Charade' for setup of rest of, `Chosen Hearts,' series that will include Black Ops flashbacks, and references to `Charade.' Other than the twists I've first introduced and a few surprises along the way, this series is canon based.
No copyright infringement intended for the movies or memorable characters: The Bells of Saint Mary ©1945/It's A Wonderful Life ©1946/A Charlie Brown Christmas, Charles M. Schulz ©1965.
Song lyrics: The Very Best Time Of The Year/Most Wonderful Time Of The Year ©1963, Eddie Pola, George Wylie/Twelve Days Of Christmas' public domain/Strange Way To Save The World ©1994 -4Him.
Before I saw the SamandJack fic challenge for a Season 1 Sam and Jack Christmas, this was a WIP. You don't have to read the Chosen Hearts Series to enjoy this seasonal romance. Basically, Sam and Jack were romantically involved before SG-1. Enjoy and have a very merrry Christmas!
If you want please read Charades/Crap So Not Going Fishing/Dreams aren't Made of Gold
Beta Thanks: Carol Sue, what'd I do without your grammar skills, patience, encouragement, and wacko sense of humor? To quote Jack, "It's whom, not who, moron!"
Dedication: To Constance in Germany. I asked God a question. His answer was you: A humble reminder that all things are possible, when we dare believe the improbable. And to, the Keeper of the Stars, Happy Birthday!
HailDorothy 2005 ©.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Email: hdorothy@gmail.com
Archive:SamandJack YES!
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 ]