Hi everyone! Here's wishing you all a wonderful Christmas and a great New Year to come!
I know I don't normally write under this name any more, preferring to write as LetitiaRichards, but following my usual tradition, I thought I'd post this short fic on here. I actually wrote it for Christmas 2004 in response to the Challenge below, but as I hadn't posted anything on here at that time, I decided to put this up now. I've not written a Christmas fic as such, this year, but have incorporated the holiday in my current fic Past, Present & Future. Hope you enjoy it.
CHRISTMAS FIC CHALLENGE
Write a story about Jack's memories of Christmas with Charlie.
Can be part of a flashback or a story in his timeline.
No word limit, as short or as long as you like.
Rating: Gen.
Category: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort.
Summary: Jack and Charlie are caught up in a fire.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: This fic is a little sad but as always there is a happyish ending.
Author's Note:I hope this covers the criteria for the above challenge.
The Ghost of Christmas Past.
by Lingren.
"Daddy!"
"Wake up Daddy!"
Jack O'Neill roused a little, feeling small podgy hands shaking his shoulder, then pulling on his arm. He tried to ignore it, hoping that Charlie would leave him to sleep. He was still tired.
"Daddy!" came the urgent call again.
"Daddy! C'mon please Daddy! It's Christmas. Santa came last night Daddy! There's lots and lots of presents under the tree."
The tug on his arm became more insistent and Jack couldn't help but smile at Charlie's enthusiasm, already yielding to his son's demands to get up. He dragged the covers from his legs and rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed, still trying to open his eyes against the need to sleep.
"Santa's been Daddy!" Charlie repeated excitedly.
Jack couldn't help another grin creep into his features, but it disappeared with a groan when he looked at the clock.
Oh god! he thought, flopping sideways onto the bed to hit the pillows with a pitiful moan.
"Charlie!" he cried in despair. "It's too early son! It's not even O-four hundred yet, for cryin' out loud! Daddy just got to bed!" He hadn't even had an hour's sleep; no wonder he was still tired.
Sara grunted beside him and turned her back on the both of them, falling asleep again, leaving Jack to deal with their over-energized son.
"Aw Daddy!" Charlie whined.
"Go back to bed Charlie!" Jack ordered his offspring with a sleepy yawn. He shivered from the chilly air inside the room and pulled the covers back over himself. Then he closed his eyes, settling back ready to fall asleep once more.
"Daddy! Please!" whined Charlie.
"Bed Charlie! You can open your presents in the morning. Go on. Be a good boy...Shoo!" he said sleepily without bothering to open his heavy eyes.
Jack drifted off again, soon forgetting all about being woken up.
It was only a matter of minutes later, that a high pitched scream hit the quiet air and Jack shot upright in bed, sleep forgotten.
Was that Charlie yelling, or was it just a dream? He wondered.
Another shriek and Jack knew Charlie was in trouble. He grabbed his sweat pants from the chair and slipped them on quickly, fumbling in the dark, all trace of tiredness vanishing. Sara muttered "Charlie?" sleepily as Jack hurried to get some pants on.
"It's okay. I got it!" Jack assured her as he rushed from the room.
Charlie sounded frightened. The child probably had a nightmare, Jack reasoned, but as he approached his son's bedroom, he could smell smoke. He could see it now, curling up the stairs towards him. He yelled at Sara to get up and dial 911 now!
Without a thought for himself, he ran to the stairs, leaping down them as fast as he could without falling and breaking his neck. Smoke was pouring from the family room and he could now hear the crackle of flames as it burned the furniture inside. He brought his arm up to ward off the smoke and heat which had started to affect his breathing.
"Charlie!" he screamed in desperation, coughing as the acrid smoke burned his throat and lungs.
"Daddy," came the reply and ended with the boy coughing endlessly.
Jack jumped across the flames just as he heard Sara screaming for him to find Charlie. Flames licked at him and sweat poured from him in the intense heat. He could feel the flesh on his bare torso burning with agony, but he ignored it all in an attempt to rescue his four year old son.
He coughed more now as the smoke filled his airway, making breathing both painful and difficult.
"Charlie?" he coughed.
"Daddy!" the boy cried, sobbing in between the coughs that wracked his small body.
Jack tossed aside the sofa and found his son hiding behind it. Relief flooded his veins, but they were still in danger. He clutched the boy tightly to his chest and shielded him from the worst of the flames.
Flames which had now blocked off his escape.
Never one to back away from any danger, Jack ran straight for them, leaping across the burning floor and out into the hallway, then on into the chilly night air. Sara was held back by a frightened neighbour whilst two men from nearby ran towards Jack and the boy, throwing a blanket around them to keep them from getting chilled and dragging them away from the intensity of the inferno that was once their house.
Jack fell to his knees, his chest heaving and convulsing from the irritating smoke. He could hear sirens getting closer, but the lack of air was causing the blackness at the edges of his vision to close in and he drifted away. His last glimpse had been of a limp Charlie wrapped safely in his mother's arms while she sobbed in distress and relief, calling his name.
He was hot. Too hot. He tossed and turned, squirming in an effort to get away from the heat. Cool hands soothed him, and a damp cloth was laid over his heated brow, bringing with it a welcome relief. He leaned into it, coughing, still troubled by the irritation to his lungs.
He fell back into nothingness as he calmed down again.
He recalled seeing the flames consuming the Christmas tree, it's hungry tongues licking at the furniture and drapes. They were chasing him, but he had to get to Charlie. He thrashed and tossed, kicking free the cloying heaviness from his legs and feet. He had to run.
Again he felt the deliciously cool dampness of the cloth was wiping away the heat and a soft feminine voice calmed him as the light covers were replaced over his body once more.
Sara.
"I'm sorry Jack. Sara's not here," a male voice told him soothingly.
He hadn't realise he'd said that out loud, and he idly wondered where Sara had gone. Perhaps she was with Charlie, which had to mean the boy was okay.
"Um...c'mon Jack. Wake up! You know Charlie's not here Jack. I should get Janet?"
Janet? Who was Janet?
He was so damn hot again, and once more the wonderful coolness enveloped him. His lungs felt better. It didn't hurt so much to breathe now.
He roused from the nightmare again, but this time he managed to force his eyes open.
Grey walls surrounded him when his vision finally cleared.
He tried to comprehend where he was. Some sort of Hospital, he guessed.
Someone walked into his peripheral vision and he turned to see if it was Sara.
"Colonel, Hi, feeling better now?"
He looked blank for a moment trying to place her, and then his perception slipped and everything came back to him.
He was in the infirmary.
In the SGC.
Below Cheyenne Mountain.
Janet.
"Doc?" he mumbled through the oxygen mask.
"Colonel?"
"Wha' happn'd?" he croaked.
"You went down with a bad case of the Flu. You had a fever and Daniel volunteered to call in on you to make sure you were okay," she said, smoothing the damp hair from his brow with a dampened cloth. "It's just as well he did too sir," she explained. "The fire-crews reckoned that a spark from the open fire in your grate must have caught alight the Christmas tree and it went up in flames, setting light to the drapes. I'm afraid that everything in that room is ruined, and there is a lot of smoke damage everywhere, but don't worry Colonel, Sergeant Siler and his crew have been working round the clock to get it fixed in time for you to go home." The diminutive Doctor helped him remove the mask so that he could sip some of the cool water through the straw in the glass.
He lay back again confused and she replaced the mask once more and he looked up at here in confusion.
"You inhaled a lot of smoke before Daniel arrived, but he managed to drag you out of the burning room. You were running a fever and must have fallen asleep on your sofa when the fire started," she continued to fill him in on the events. "Now, your lungs are improving Colonel, and given another few days, you should be well enough to leave the infirmary."
Jack felt like a wet rag. He was drained, both physically and emotionally, after all he'd been through. Somehow he had been aware of the fire and dreamed of that time when Charlie was a kid.
Charlie was dead. He remembered that all too clearly now. He'd died a long time ago. The vivid dreams were so real though; it was almost as if it happened yesterday. He could fully understand why he had recalled that night many years ago. He just wished he could have remembered his son during a much happier Christmas.
And now, now he had nothing left...again. It was all gone. All those photos he'd hung on his walls – gone. He was afraid that he'd forget what Charlie looked like.
But then...
At least he was alive; and being alive meant he could recall every Christmas that he'd spent with Charlie which wasn't a disaster. He was still alive and that's all that mattered, he tried to convince himself.
Daniel spoke up, now that he was more cognisant.
"I'm sorry Jack..."
"Daniel," he wheezed slightly startled, turning towards the voice, he'd forgotten he'd heard a male voice. "For what?"
Daniel looked at the few items in his hand and silently placed them into Jack's hands.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save anything else Jack. But I thought...I thought you might want to keep these." Daniel patted the exposed arm that wasn't tied up with the IV line then turned to leave Jack to look over the photos of Charlie that he'd managed to rescue before they went up in smoke too.
Jack sank back into the pillows in relief, clutching the pictures to his heart; a single tear escaping to roll down his temple, forever grateful that Daniel had managed to salvage even this little reminder of Charlie.
"Thank you Daniel," he whispered to the empty air.
He sucked in a shaky breath and released a shuddering sigh and then lost himself in remembering happier times of Christmas past.
The End.
DISCLAIMER:
The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.
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