I've loved reading all the wonderful, sweet and fluffy Christmas stories. I had to do my own but, in typical fashion, had to add angst and whump – but it is a Christmas story. I hope you enjoy.
At the last minute he'd decided to fly to Minnesota. Driving at this time of year was iffy at best and anyway, he didn't know if he could be away that long. He'd hadn't planned on going, thinking that Daniel and Teal'c would be around and they'd spend Christmas together. Sam was, of course, spending it with Pete and the 'soon-to-be' in-laws. He wouldn't let himself think about that.
In the end, it turned out that both his male friends also had other plans. Teal'c was heading off world to see Ishta – that romance appeared to be heating up quite nicely, thank you! Daniel too had something on the go. He wouldn't say too much, which was surprising for the usually verbose archaeologist, but it sounded like he was off to a dig in some exotic – although earth-bound – location.
So, that left him at loose ends. He'd received a couple of invites – one from Walter and another from Ferretti – but he knew that accepting would probably mean a nerve racking Christmas for them and their families. Nothing like having a General, and your commanding officer, show up for a family meal to make things less than comfortable for all concerned.
It was different with his own – or former – team. They knew him well enough and had been through enough together that none of them stood on ceremony around him. Well, that wasn't quite true, he realized. Sam still tried to maintain some professional protocol, which was even more evident since she'd gotten involved with the cop.
So, the alternate plans of his friends had left him at loose ends. When Daniel and Teal'c had realized, both had offered to change their plans and stay back. He had, of course, waved them off with a simple "don't be ridiculous! Go! Have fun. I'll be fine."
Daniel had looked at him with narrowed eyes but, when Jack had insisted, he had agreed, albeit somewhat hesitantly. Sam hadn't offered to stay – no surprise there – but had looked upset. She always felt bad for any of her teammates if she felt they weren't 'happy'. He knew she would have felt the same if it had been any one of them in the same situation.
"Come on guys, lighten up." He'd said to the worried faces of his three closest friends. "I'll be just fine. I'm actually looking forward to the break. I wouldn't mind some time to just relax and watch a bit of TV. I'm a big boy and it's not going to hurt me to spend some time alone. And anyway, I've gotten invites from both Walter and Ferretti", (he didn't need to tell them he hadn't accepted).
Finally, the team agreed to go ahead with their plans, convinced Jack was perfectly okay. After much convincing they finally believed him when he said he was looking forward to the peace and quiet. They knew how crazy his life was now that he was in charge of the SGC. So, with relatively easy minds, they headed off for their Christmas break.
Jack had spent one full day clearing up all the last minute details at the base. In actual fact there wasn't that much to do. Walter had pretty much taken care of everything. When he realized that he was actually keeping his people from leaving – not wanting to go when the General was still there – he cleaned off his desk and grabbed his coat.
"Merry Christmas Walter", he said, walking out of his office. "Go home and see your family. I'll see you in a week."
"Merry Christmas Sir. Thank you and I hope you have a good holiday."
"I will. And oh, if I haven't said it before Sergeant, thanks for everything. You're a good man and I couldn't do the job without you."
O'Neill turned at that and quickly headed towards the corridor leading to the elevators. He could tell Walter was touched by his words but he didn't want to deal with the thanks – or emotion – of the little sergeant.
"Thank you Sir!" Walter called after him. "I'm proud to serve under you." But the last was uttered under his breath. He knew the General well enough to know the man didn't want, or need, the thanks of his team. It was one of the things that endeared his men, and women, to him. Harriman stood there a moment, considering the man who had just left. He only wished that O'Neill could experience something wonderful this Christmas. The General deserved it.
Jack spent that evening at home, eating pizza and watching old movies. While at first it was okay, after a while he began to feel restless. He wandered around his house a bit, looked in the fridge three or four times (not really hungry), opened a few bottles of beer but ended up not finishing any of them. Finally, at about midnight, he decided he needed to get away. The cabin looked better all the time. At least there he could take long walks and breath in the fresh, clean air of the wilderness.
He arranged to catch a quick flight early the next morning. He'd discovered that one of the few perks of being a General was being able to do things like that at the last minute. Nobody questioned him. If a General wanted to travel on a flight at the last minute there would always be room. To give himself credit, however, he had made sure he wasn't displacing someone else.
The officer in charge had assured him there was a seat available on one flight. It was a transport so wouldn't be terribly comfy but he'd traveled in worse conditions. He'd arranged for a car to pick him up at 5:00 am and he'd headed to Peterson to catch his flight.
Okay, the officer definitely hadn't been kidding. The plane was a Hercules transport plane and was carrying vehicles – jeeps to be exact. Other than the cockpit, the only seats were a couple of pull down metal seats in the back. It was both noisy and cold. The pilot apologized profusely, as if it was his fault a Brigadier General was traveling in less than ideal circumstances.
"It's okay Captain. My choice", he waved at the pilot, a career air force officer by the look of him. He looked older than Jack. "You just get me there in one piece and I'll be happy. I've traveled in worse." He settled in, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. Hopefully it wouldn't be a long flight.
As the pilot and co-pilot readied the plane he thought about where he was at this point in his life. He thought briefly of all that had happened to him, both the good and the bad. Career-wise he was fortunate. He'd never really thought it possible that one day he'd reach the rank of General. Too much of his career had been sidestepping, if not actually disobeying, orders. He'd also refused to suck up or 'play politics' to get ahead. He recognized that in many ways it was luck (if you could call being on the front lines of a galactic fight, luck) that had given him this opportunity.
He then thought about his personal life and admitted to himself that it had definitely not gone where he had wanted or hoped in his younger years. Here he was, middle-aged, successful and yet without anyone to share his life. Oh, he had friends, good friends, that meant the world to him and who he knew would be there for him always. But that wasn't the same as having someone to come home to or a family to worry over, love and care for.
His son would be 18 this year. As he felt the plane begin to taxi down the runway he allowed his mind to wander to what that would be like. He could imagine sitting around the kitchen table, discussing with his son which colleges to apply to. Charlie had been a smart kid and had always done well in school. He was sure he'd have wanted to go to university.
Jack wondered what he would have studied. Charlie'd always been interested in science and he wouldn't have been surprised to have seen his boy go into something like physics or engineering. He smiled briefly – he could see him wanting to study astrophysics – he'd also loved the stars like his father.
It was something he'd never ever told his teammates, but one of his aversions to scientists had been the fact that it reminded him too much of Charlie. In those early days he had avoided anything that would remind him of his son.
The thought of astrophysics then brought him back to the one subject he was really trying to avoid. Sam. He was happy for her, really he was. He cared deeply for her and wanted only the best for her. He knew that wasn't him, couldn't be him. He wanted her to have a life, to enjoy what every women, or man for that matter, should and that was a home and a family. He prayed that Pete was the right man for her. Other than the one little incident he believed that Shanahan was a good man and Jack knew he loved Sam.
Of course, he didn't think Pete was good enough for his Colonel – but, and here he laughed; he knew that he wouldn't think anyone was good enough. Kind of like a father, he decided, although he quickly shied away from that thought. Just because he knew there couldn't ever be anything between them, there was no way he wanted to think of himself as a father figure to Samantha Carter.
The problem he faced was that as much as he wanted her to have a life, the fact that she had gone and got one was killing him. He'd never let her know – he'd never want to burden her with the knowledge that he had been crushed by her moving on – but the thought of her with Shanahan was devastating.
He laughed again, this time in self-derision. You had your chance at home and family O'Neill, don't begrudge that to someone else.
He decided it was best to stop thinking in this vein. It would only depress him and the last thing he needed was to spend the next week bummed out and alone. He turned then and looked out the small window, noticing that the weather had turned. When they'd left Colorado it had been cold but sunny. Now dark clouds had gathered around them and he could feel that the wind had picked up. It was definitely shaping up for a storm.
He undid his seat belt and made his way to the cockpit. The ride was getting bumpy and he had to hold on to whatever purchase he could find to keep from falling on his ass. He finally made it to the front and knocked on the little door and then opened it.
"Looks like a storm. Everything okay?" he asked the two crewmembers.
"Hello Sir." The co-pilot turned his head and acknowledged the General. He quickly looked back to his controls. "Yeah, we've had word a bad storm is approaching. We're flying just above it for now but it's getting worse. We're gonna have to try and land at Ellsworth. I'm sorry sir"
Ellsworth was in South Dakota – not his choice for a place to spend Christmas – but it was definitely better than getting caught in a storm.
"Not to worry Captain. You do what you have to. Let me know if I can help."
"Thank you Sir. I think the best thing is for you to buckle up. It's gonna get real rough in a minute."
"Okay." With a quick 'good luck', he began to head back to his seat. He'd almost made it when the plane hit tremendous turbulence. It dipped suddenly, without warning. The next thing Jack knew he was literally flying through the air. He came to a quick stop up against one of the jeeps that was tied down for transport. He could feel a sharp pain as his arm connected with something and then he was thrown violently down. As the air was knocked out of him he realized that the plane was shaking wildly and had suddenly moved into a dive.
Jack tried to grab on to whatever he could find, hoping to pull himself back to his seat and buckle himself in. It began to get harder as the plane began a sharper decline. As the shuddering got harder he knew he – and the pilots – were in real trouble. Knowing that he wasn't going to make it back in time he tried to brace himself between the tires of the jeep. With a quick prayer he closed his eyes, waiting for the end.
Denver
Sam's cheeks felt like they were going to be permanently frozen in an ridiculous smile. She'd spent the morning talking to Pete's Mom, aunts, sisters and nieces. It was traditional, in his family that the women all got together and baked while the men and boys played games and watched sports.
She couldn't say anything, but the fact was she would much rather have been in the other room with the guys. She really didn't have much to talk about with the women – their lives were so different from hers.
She'd had some good women friends over the years; Janet immediately came to mind although she quickly let go of that thought. She didn't need the sadness that thoughts of the doctor and her untimely death brought to mind. The problem was that most of her time was spent with men and she was much more used to dealing with them than with women whose biggest worry was whether or not their husbands had mowed the lawn or fixed the bathroom taps.
She also wished she could be out playing pool. She would have definitely whipped some male Shanahan butt! It has become obvious to her, in a very short while, that Pete came from a very traditional family. The women all stayed home and were wives and mothers. The men worked, watched sports and loved having 'the little woman' at home. She knew she was being catty – the women were nice and she actually admired those who chose to make home and family their priority. It was what she fought for after all. It was just that she had fought long and hard, in her career, to be seen as equal to the men. In this environment her skills and talents were considered pretty much useless.
To be fair, Pete never treated her that way. She had to wonder, however, how he'd feel when they were married. Would he begin to resent her wanting to work? Would he expect her to stay home, join the PTA and knitting bee or would he be okay with her going to work to save the world every day?
She took a deep breath and sighed. Smiling broadly at Pete's very sweet mother, she continued to cut the cookie dough into Christmas shapes. For a moment she pictured the face of one Brigadier General and wondered where he was. She wouldn't allow herself to wish she was sharing Christmas with him.
"Sam", it was Derek, Pete's brother. "Phone call for you. He says his name is Walter. You got another guy on the side?" this was said with a grin and a wink – Pete was walking slightly behind him, a frown on his face.
"No, that's someone from work. I had to give this number as we're ah - sort of on call." She smiled at Derek and took the phone.
"Yes Walter? Carter here." She listened intently for a moment. Pete instantly knew something was wrong as her face grew white and tense.
"Yes of course. I can be there in a couple of hours." She looked up and met Pete's eyes. He did not look happy. With a small shrug she kept listening. "Okay Walter, I'll be ready. Do you have the address? ….. Okay good. Thanks." She hung up the phone and looked at if for a minute. The room had grown quiet, as everyone seemed to realize something had happened.
"What is it Sam?" Pete finally asked. This was one aspect of her job he hated. He never knew when she'd suddenly get called away.
"Huh?" She looked up at Pete in surprise, startled to realize that she was in his parent's kitchen, surrounded by his family. "Oh, I'm sorry." She turned to his mother. "I apologize Mrs. Shanahan" (she'd refused to call her 'Mom' even though she'd been asked to do so. As far as she was concerned she would only ever have one Mom), I have to leave. An emergency has come up."
"What is it Sam?" Pete asked, obviously upset. "Can't it wait? Can't you at least celebrate Christmas for God's sake? For once why don't they ask someone else to come to their rescue?"
She just looked at him blankly. It took a moment for him to realize that she looked like she was in shock. "Sam? What's wrong? What's happened?" although he knew she probably couldn't really say considering what her job was.
"Oh", she suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever had affected her. "There's been an accident. Ja … my… the General's plane went down over Nebraska. They don't know anything yet, the storm's too bad. I have to go back to the base."
"But Sam, you'd be better of here, with family." Pete tried to take her in his arms. "There's nothing you can do and they'll have emergency crews out."
"No", she pulled back, not wanting him right now. "No, I need to be with my team. I'm sorry Pete but they're my family." Suddenly realizing how that must have sounded she turned in apology to his family who were still standing silently. "I'm so sorry. You've all been very kind but I've worked with the General for many years, he's a close friend. The rest of my team will be there as well so - you see – I have to be there too." Turning to Pete she continued. "I don't know if there's anything I can do or not, Pete, but I have to be there in case. Please understand, I don't want to hurt you and I'm so grateful for the kindness shown by your family but I have to go. It's better anyway. It wouldn't be a very happy Christmas with me here worrying."
Pete looked at her soberly for a minute. Something was bothering him beyond her leaving but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Okay, I understand Sam. Just let me get my things and we'll go."
"Go? What? No Pete, you stay here. They're sending a car to pick me up. You stay here with your family."
"No way. How can I let my fiancé deal with something like this and me stay and enjoy Christmas? You need me with you Babe."
This was the last thing she wanted. The thought of Pete tagging along made her want to scream. Why that was, considering she was going to marry him, didn't even cross her mind at this moment. She just knew she needed to be with Daniel and Teal'c, not with Peter.
"I'm sorry Pete but no, you can't come. It's classified and they won't let you on the base." This was the first time, in their relationship, that she'd out and out lied to him. There had been times she'd had to say she couldn't tell him something but she'd never actually lied. Again, she didn't think that it was odd to be doing this to the man she supposedly loved.
"Classified!" he practically shouted. "What the hell's classified about it? The man's been in a plane crash – he's probably already dead – why would that be classified."
"He's not dead! I'd know if he was dead!" she shouted back. The rest of Pete's family began to get very uncomfortable, realizing there was something going on here that they couldn't discern. "I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I know anything." Turning to Pete's Mom she spoke again. "I'll just get my things. Thank you for a lovely time and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas. I'm so sorry about this." With a small smile she turned and headed to the bedroom she and Pete were to share. His Mom muttered a quiet, 'that's okay, nice to have you." as she left the room.
After she'd gone Pete's brother and sisters looked at him. He simply shrugged, angry and hurt. "I don't know", he answered their silent questions. "She works for the Air Force and a lot of what she does is classified."
"Who is this General she's worried about?" asked Derek.
"General O'Neill. They've worked together for years."
"Sounds like more than a working relationship. She was pretty upset."
Pete didn't know what to say. He'd never liked O'Neill; not that the man had ever treated him badly, it's just he always felt like there was something going on that he couldn't understand. He wished it had remained that way because now, he was beginning to get an inkling. And he really didn't like where his mind was leading him. Turning to his brother he spoke softly, "yeah, I think you're right."
New Mexico
Daniel wiped the sweat off his face. He was sure he was covered with dust and must look a sight. He was, however, feeling great. It'd been a while since he'd been on a dig on earth. It was great just getting into the archaeology and not having to worry if some alien enemy was going to pop out and try and fry him. It also helped that Sarah was here with him.
She'd invited him on the dig and, after much soul-searching he'd decided to accept. It had been years now since Sh'are died and he knew it was time to enter the world of the living again. He'd loved being married and knew it was time to get out there and meet people. He'd always liked Sarah and thought there might be some chance with her so, here he was, on his knees in New Mexico, digging up the remains of an ancient civilization.
That evening they were going to go and have supper together, just the two of them. He'd see where things went from there. He knew she was interested – he wasn't the naïve young man of a few years ago – but he wanted to take things slow. Or not – who knows, he grinned, this could become a great holiday.
"Daniel", he heard Sarah call out. Wondering if it was time for lunch already, he looked up. She was hurrying towards him. As she got closer he could see that she didn't look happy. In fact, she looked extremely worried. He stood up slowly, a feeling of dread washing over him.
"What is it?" he asked soberly.
'It's General O'Neill. He's been in a plane crash. There's no word yet on whether he's okay or not. There's a bad storm and they haven't located the plane yet. There's a plane waiting to fly you back to Colorado."
"God", he began to brush himself off, not quite sure what to do or say. Of all things he'd expected it wasn't to hear that one of his friends had been injured while here on earth. Why not he didn't know – it was just that he'd always expected that they'd all be safe when on their home planet.
"When…?" He looked at Sarah, their plans for the evening totally forgotten.
"The plane will be ready to head back in an hour. Come on, I've got the jeep. You'll just have time to shower and change."
As he got in the jeep he gave an ironic laugh. Jack had always accused him of interrupting at the most inopportune times. "Back at ya Jack", he said to himself. But there was no humor in his thought. He just prayed his friend was okay.
SGC
The gate continued to spin, the incoming traveler anxiously awaited. Walter watched as the blue iris formed. After a few seconds the figure of Teal'c, dressed in robes, came through. Walter sighed. He felt better as the first member of SG1 arrived.
Teal'c had been enjoying his time with Ishta. With the battle they both still waged it was not often they got to spend time with each other. Their night together had been …. amazing, he grinned to himself. Anyone who knew Teal'c would have been surprised at that expression as it wasn't one he often allowed himself. He then frowned immiediately - he was less than pleased that he had been called back to earth.
He knew, however, that O'Neill wouldn't have asked him back if it hadn't been important. That was why he was confused when his friend was not there to meet him. He looked up and saw only the figure of Walter, at his usual spot in the control room.
"Sorry to call you back Teal'c – after you hit the Infirmary you're to go to the Briefing Room? Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson are on their way."
Teal'c nodded his head and turned towards the Infirmary. As he walked he wondered where O'Neill was. Walter hadn't mentioned him.
By the time he'd been checked over by the nurses and Dr. Brightman he'd heard what had happened. Worried about his friend, he quickly made his way to the Briefing Room. On the way he met Daniel Jackson.
"Teal'c! They called you back. I'm glad."
"Daniel. Have you heard anything more?" Teal'c turned and walked beside Daniel as they headed down the corridor.
"No. The last I heard they think the plane went down somewhere in Nebraska. It was on it's way to Minnesota and got caught in a freak storm. The last contact they had with it it had just crossed into Nebraska."
"He was on his way to his cabin?" Teal'c asked. "I did not know he had planned to go for the holiday."
"Neither did I. I thought he said he wanted to spend some time at home, relaxing." Daniel sounded confused.
"I believe he said that to make us feel it was all right to leave him alone. You know O'Neill. He would not want us to worry about him.
"Yeah, you're right. God, I can't believe I let him convince me. You'd think I'd know him well enough by now. Not only did we all leave him, but then he decided to go to his cabin and now – he may be dead."
"It is too soon to be thinking that. You know General O'Neill. He will come out of this. He is strong."
"He may be strong Teal'c, but he's only human." At that moment the two men arrived at the Briefing Room. It seemed eerie for them to be here and not have Jack barrel in from his office.
As they entered they could see Sam was there already, sitting quietly in her usual spot. This time she was neither looking through notes or chatting with anyone. She sat and stared straight ahead and didn't even seem aware when her teammates entered.
"Sam." When she didn't answer Daniel walked up to her and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Sam", he repeated. This time she glanced up. When she saw Daniel she smiled, although tears gathered in her eyes. She reached up and took the hand that was still resting on her shoulder.
"Daniel. I'm so glad you're here." She looked over at her other 'alien' friend. "And you too Teal'c. I …. was feeling kind of alone. I kept expecting the General to walk in." Both Daniel and Teal'c could hear the sob in her voice.
"I too find it hard that O'Neill is not present." Teal'c walked over and laid his hand on her other shoulder. The three friends stood for a moment, just taking comfort in one another. The two men then sat down, in their usual places.
"What are we waiting for?" asked Daniel. Just then the door to Jack's office opened and out walked General Hammond. The three friends didn't know whether to be pleased that he was here or worried, knowing it must be serious if he had been called all the way from Washington.
"General" All three stood up, Sam because he was a superior officer, the others out of respect.
"Sit people. Normally I'd say it was good to see you but I'm afraid the circumstances are less than pleasant."
"Do we know anything Sir?", asked Sam. She was having trouble maintaining any semblance of professionalism although seeing Hammond had helped.
"All we know is that the plane lost communications at around 8:37 a.m. central time. They had just entered into Nebraska airspace. The search is focusing on the area just west of Lincoln. The problem is the weather. They're still experiencing blizzard like conditions so visibility is practically nil. Things are supposed to clear later this evening but hopefully we'll find the plane before then."
None of them needed to say anything because they all knew that the longer it took to find the plane the worse the situation. If anyone was hurt, which was likely, the sooner they got help the better. Add to that the weather conditions and they knew the situation was critical.
"What kind of plane was it Sir?" asked Sam. That could make a difference. If he'd been traveling in a small plane there was more likelihood that the accident would be deadly.
"It was a Hercules transport. It was just the two pilots and Jack. He had hopped on for a ride to Minnesota. The on-duty officer at Peterson said he called late last night asking if there was an available flight. He said he was going to bump someone so General O'Neill could ride a passenger flight but he refused; said he wasn't going to keep some soldier from spending Christmas with his or her family just because he wanted to travel at the last minute. So instead he opted to take the transport.
"Sounds like Jack", said Daniel quietly. They all silently agreed knowing O'Neill would never use his rank to gain favor. It was one of the things they all loved about their friend.
"What can we do General Hammond?" Teal'c asked what they had all been thinking.
"I don't know if there's much we can do Teal'c. I just knew you'd all want to be here."
"Is there no way we can make our way to Nebraska Sir? We'd like to be there and help with the rescue if possible." Sam sat forward in her seat as if her very presence would convince Hammond.
The General sighed and looked troubled. He had known, right from the moment he was contacted, that Jack's team would insist on doing something. It was why he'd had them all called back from their vacations. He'd felt bad but knew they would never have forgiven him if he hadn't. Still, there was really nothing they could do that wasn't already being done. He looked up at them then and stopped short. What was he thinking? This was SG1 – of course they could do what others couldn't. It was in their very natures. It was what, and who, SG1 was.
"I'll get you there if I have to fly you myself", the General answered. "I don't know if there's anything you can do but you can give it your best. I know Jack would do the same for any of you."
"Thank you Sir/Thank you General", came from the three members of SG1.
The General stood up. "Walter has all the details. Go get yourselves kitted out. You'll need extreme weather gear obviously. I'll have a chopper waiting at Peterson." He walked towards his office, knowing he had to call and update the President. Just as he was about to enter his office he turned back. "Bring him back people, bring him back."
By twelve o'clock the team was getting into the helicopter and buckling themselves in. They had said very little to each other after General Hammond had left the briefing room, each of them thinking of their friend, who they hoped was hanging on.
Black Hills, South Dakota
His first thought, on waking, was that he was cold. He shouldn't be cold – he'd fixed the heat in his cabin last year and it should be nice and toasty. Must have had a power outage, he thought. He'd have to get up and see to the generator.
He really didn't want to move though. It's not that he was comfortable – far from it in fact – it was more that he felt tired, so tired. He forced himself to open his eyes. When he was finally able to focus his eyes it took him a minute to recognize that he wasn't in his bedroom in his cabin. He couldn't tell, at first, where he was. It seemed dark, although light was peaking in from a hole in the wall.
Hole in the wall? Not only was light coming in (although it was faint) but he could see snow swirling in as well. He tried to look around and it was at that point he realized he was lying on the floor up against what appeared to be a tire. Even more confused, he attempted to move. It was then that the pain hit.
"Oh God", he gasped, as the pain spiked through him. He fell back, which made it worse. The pain didn't seem to be localized but was spread throughout his body. With a small whimper he forced himself to calm down. He concentrated on his breathing – in, out, in out, until finally he was able to regain some semblance of control.
Okay, I'm hurt. Good one O'Neill – very smart. Now, let's figure out exactly where and how. He slowly began to take an inventory so he would know how bad it was.
It was only as he started to try and concentrate, which was very difficult in his state, that he realized his face was wet. Looking to see if any of the snow had drifted in, he couldn't figure out where the water was coming from. He wiped his hand over his face, trying to stop the moisture from dripping in his eyes. It was only as he brought his hand down that he recognized that it wasn't water, but blood, that was dripping down his face.
Found one wound, he thought. Carefully reaching up he felt around his head. "Damn!" he muttered as he felt the gash over his temple. That explained the blood and the confusion. "Must have a concussion." He gently pushed around the wound and, although it hurt, he was relieved when there was no movement of the skull. Hopefully, no fracture.
He then decided it was time to roll over to his back, rather than lying on his left side. That was definitely a mistake, he realized a second later. Gasping, he had to take deep breaths to try and quell the nausea that rose into the back of his throat.
Something was definitely wrong, he just couldn't tell quite what. This time he tried moving, very slowly. Using his right arm, which seemed to be okay although a bit bruised, he braced himself. It was as he began to roll that he felt the twinge in his chest. Yup – something broken there – hopefully just a couple of cracked ribs. They could be painful but maybe not too serious unless they'd punctured something.
The next twinge (okay, O'Neill – keep calling it a 'twinge' and maybe you'll believe that's all it is. There was no way he was going to refer to it as 'the shooting agony' – nope, no way. Anyway, the next 'twinge' was in his arm. Definitely broken. He gingerly felt down the arm. Oh yeah – broken – and not just a simple break. He could feel that the bone was protruding out of his forearm. So, compound fracture. That was not so good.
As for other injuries it was difficult to tell as everything hurt like hell. He was able to move his legs, thank God – at least no paralysis – but they hurt so badly he wanted to cry out. He stopped himself, not sure if anyone else was around or not. He laughed softly to himself. Worried about your machismo even now, O'Neill.
He hoped against hope that he was simply suffering from some bad bruising. It took him a few minutes but he was eventually able to get himself up to a seated position. The dizziness that overtook him almost caused him to drop back but he managed to hang on.
He looked around again and finally figured out that he was in a plane and that it was snowing out. He tried to remember what mission he was on. What country had he been sent to this time? It must be Russia or central Europe, he decided. Wherever it was, he knew he had to get out and get help before they came. If he was found he'd be captured and they'd most likely torture him to get information from him. He couldn't let that happen.
With a tremendous groan he rolled over until he was on his one good hand and knees. He had to keep his left arm pressed against his chest although the effort was practically killing him.
With a deep breath, and a small prayer, He sat back so he was resting on his heels.
"God damn it!" He coughed, which sent another barb of pain through him. "All right O'Neill", he gasped. "Get your ass in gear and get moving." Grabbing the overturned jeep beside him he managed to pull himself to his feet, swearing the entire time. Eventually he made it to a vertical position and stood there, swaying and cursing, but managing to keep standing.
He looked around and was able to see the extent of the damage. The plane had clearly crashed. The interior of the plane – a transport – was almost completely trashed. He looked over to the one side where the pull down seats were located. There was nothing there but twisted metal. He couldn't remember anything clearly but thought briefly that it was a good thing he hadn't been sitting in one of those seats or there'd be nothing but minced O'Neill left. The one area that seemed to have escaped any major damage was a small corner beside the jeep he been lying against. It must have given him some measure of protection. Good thing it hadn't rolled on top of him.
The side of the plane had been opened like a can of sardines, the metal twisted back, allowing the outside in. He glanced out but could see little but swirling snow. There was light, so it must have been daytime, but it was impossible to say exactly when.
He stood there considering that for a moment until it dawned to him to look at his watch. The concussion had clearly knocked almost all sense out of him.
His watch read 11:26 – which he assumed was in the morning. He had no idea what time he'd taken off or how long he'd been here although from the amount of snow that had made its way inside, and the air temperature, it had been a while since the crash.
All right, he thought, what to do? The first thing was to find some kind of first aid kit and some emergency blankets. Then he'd have to see if he could figure out where he was.
It was only as he looked around, trying to find some emergency supplies, that it dawned on him. He was in the back of the plane so obviously he had been a passenger. What about the pilot or pilots?
"Damn", he muttered. He'd been so caught up in his own situation that he hadn't spared a thought for any other possible companions. He recognized that that was also a symptom of the concussion. Normally his first thought would be to anyone with him. He knew he had to make it to the cockpit to see if the pilot was alive. As he hobbled his way forward he looked around but could see no sign of anyone else.
The only thing he could figure was that he must have stowed away on the flight. He must be on one of his black op missions to some eastern country. If the pilots were alive, he might have to watch them carefully. The last thing he needed was to be taken captive.
He made his way to the front of the plane although it was difficult. The combination of his wounds, the wreckage and the now icy conditions made it difficult to move. It took almost ten minutes, which felt like a hundred, for him to reach the front.
When he arrived it quickly became apparent that there was little likelihood of survivors. The plane had crashed nose first. What had, at one time, been the cockpit, was now a tangled mass of wreckage. The nose must have slammed into the side of a hill because the front end of the plane had been pushed back. Even if he'd wanted to, there was no way Jack would have been able to get to anyone in the front, even if there was a possibility they were still alive.
He spared a brief moment of sympathy for whoever had been flying the plane. Even if they were the enemy they hadn't deserved to die like this.
He turned and headed back into the body of the plane. As he walked he glanced over and happened to see what looked like a red cross. He shifted position and was pleased to see that he hadn't been wrong. Over on the left-hand side was what looked like a first aid locker. He limped over, gasping again with the effort it took.
As he approached he groaned, this time not in pain, but in frustration. It was definitely a first aid locker, but in front of it was what looked like a ton of twisted metal. How in hell was he to get to it?
As he felt the blood begin to drip again from his head wound he realized that he had no choice. If he didn't do something to stop the bleeding from both his head and arm, he would slowly bleed to death and that was something just not in his plans for today.
"No way", he said softly. "I have to get back – back to Sara." As soon as the thought came it felt wrong. He couldn't figure out why. He had a desperate urge to return – to someone who cared. It had to be Sara – she was his wife. Why then did that feel wrong? It was as if the name was incorrect, that it wasn't Sara that he should be thinking about. And yet, he'd never been unfaithful to his wife, he certainly wouldn't have anyone else 'on the side'. He shook his head, confused.
"OW!" Okay, that was a mistake. Rule number one – don't shake your head when you have a concussion. Instead, he bent over and, with one arm, began to remove some of the metal that separated him from the first aid supplies.
As he slowly and painstakingly moved the items his mind kept flipping back to Sara. He couldn't get a picture of her clearly in his mind. Instead, another figure kept popping into his thoughts. She was similar; tall, blond, blue eyed – but for some reason it was a different face. What the hell was going on? He was starting to get frightened. He worried that something sinister was going down and yet he couldn't put his finger on it.
By the time he'd cleared a path to the supplies he was sweating – a cold sweat - and was shaking. Not a good sign, he knew. He was very afraid he was going into shock. He needed to get warm and lie down. He could also use something to drink, preferably something hot, although he figured that was unlikely.
He reached over with his good arm and opened the locker. Inside was a first aid kit, and a variety of other emergency items including blankets. Thank God! He reached over and snagged what was there. He then made his way to the jeep. It offered some measure of protection to the fierce cold and wind that were howling around the plane.
Sitting down on one of the folded blankets (that would offer him some protection from the icy floor) he leaned up against the overturned jeep. He then draped another blanket over his lap and one around his shoulders. Somewhat protected from the elements he opened the first aid box.
"All right," he tried to think what to do. "Head wound first." He took out some gauze and antiseptic and tried to wipe around the wound. After turning the air blue with some choice swear words, he finished cleaning the gash. Next, he held up a thick pad of bandages and pressed it against the wound. It was awkward as the gash was on the left side and he only had his right arm to work with. As he slowly wrapped the bandages around his head he had to concentrate really hard on not passing out.
Next on his list was his arm. He hadn't really looked at it, not wanting to worry when there was nothing he could do. He knew that now he'd have to deal with it and the thought made him feel sick to his stomach. Nothing like looking at your own bones sticking out of your skin!
He gently and slowly pulled back the bloody sleeve of his jacket. As it caught on a shard of bone he could feel the blood leave his head and he felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.
"Come on O'Neill, you can do this." He grabbed a small pair of scissors from the first aid kit and began to cut off the sleeve. Pulling it back was not a good idea!
He concentrated completely on cutting the material, refusing to look at the arm underneath. It was when the material was finally ready to take away that he forced himself to glance down at the arm.
"Oh shit!" he said as he looked at it. The break was a bad one – a good two inches of either the radius or the ulna were sticking out. The wound itself was jagged and bloody. He knew blood loss was an issue; he could feel the weakness and dizziness caused by the amount he'd lost already. What was more dangerous was the severe risk of infection or necrosis of the bone. Where he got all this stuff he wasn't sure but he knew he had to do something.
He sat looking down at his arm for a few minutes, horrified yet fascinated with the wound. Shaking himself he grabbed the first aid kit again, this time taking out some more supplies. He figured that dousing the wound with antiseptic probably wasn't the best thing to do – besides which it would probably make him pass out in agony – but he didn't know what else he could do. He didn't think he could try and set the bone by himself. He figured it would take a doctor.
"Sam, where are you when I need you." He stopped in surprise, wondering where that thought had come from and who 'Sam' was. Maybe it was a doctor he'd known somewhere. But as he thought that the same picture of the blond 'not Sara' woman again forced its way into his head. This was getting weird.
"Enough procrastinating Jack. Get it over with." Opening the bottle of antiseptic with his mouth, he took a deep breath and poured it over the wound.
If there had been anyone close by they would have been alerted to the presence of a downed plane by the scream that pierced the storm-laden day. It was cut off shortly as the body from whence it had come passed out.
He wasn't out for long and soon he awoke to the burning agony of his arm. At least that part was done; now for the bandaging. As he weakly pushed himself back to a sitting position he considered his best option. He took some of the gauze and gently laid it over the open wound. The site of the bone continued to make him nauseous but he kept working around it. Once the wound was covered he bandaged the arm loosely. It was more to try and keep germs out than anything. He couldn't do it tightly enough to keep the blood from flowing. Fortunately, it seemed to have stopped bleeding heavily – only small amounts of blood seeping out.
Once the bandaging was done he fashioned himself a sling. The best thing he could do, he realized, was to keep his arm as stable as possible. The sling would give it some protection and keep him from trying to use it unconsciously.
Finally finished he collapsed back against the jeep once more. His teeth chattering, both from cold and reaction, he pulled the blankets more closely around himself. He knew he wasn't finished with his self first aid, but for now that was all he could handle. His eyes began to close. He knew that sleep was bad – especially with a head wound – but he was having trouble convincing himself to stay awake. Just a short nap, that's all he needed, and then he'd get moving.
As he drifted off something continued to bother him – some small, niggling thought kept him from resting completely. He wished he could get that woman out of his head. He knew she was trouble.
"SIR! Wake up!" He sat up with a start – the sudden movement causing all his various aches and pains to flair into life with a vengeance.
"What Carter?" he gasped in reply. When there was no answer he looked around, puzzled. Who had called him and why had he answered with 'Carter'? He didn't know anyone by that name except for some two-star General based in Washington. He'd never served under the man but heard he was a brilliant, although tough, commander.
Whatever had happened, it was enough to bring back the awareness that sleep, at this point, could be lethal. He had to stay awake and alert. Okay, he reasoned, as 'alert' as he could be with a concussion and no idea as to where he was.
Offutt Air Force Base – Nebraska
I'm sorry ma'am, the weather's just too bad. We can't risk going out until things clear up a bit. The weather is supposed to be better by this evening. As soon as we can we'll head out."
As difficult as it was, Sam knew that the young Lieutenant was speaking the truth. The storm was peaking and it would be deadly to send anyone out right now. It was amazing that they'd even made it in to Offutt in one piece.
She looked over at Daniel, who was pacing back and forth in frustration, and Teal'c, who sat quietly but was clearly tense with worry. Walking over to the two men she sat down, shaking her head.
"We have to wait for the storm to die out a bit. No flying in this weather."
"Oh come on Sam, the longer we wait the less likelihood we'll find anyone alive. We've got to go now."
"Daniel, I know how you're feeling. I want to rush out and grab a helicopter and take off right now but we can't. It's too dangerous. Don't you think these men here would be the first ones out if they could? They all know what's at stake here but there is no way a plane or chopper could fly in this. We'll just have to wait."
"O'Neill will know we are coming. He will 'hang on' until we arrive." Teal'c spoke assertively.
She wished she could be as confident as he was. She knew if anything happened to Jack she'd be devastated. They all would – but for her it would be not just the loss of a dear friend, but the loss of part of herself.
As they'd traveled from Colorado, and as they'd waited here in Nebraska, she'd had time to think about her life, but more importantly, about her relationships. She knew, for a fact, that Pete was wrong. He was not the man for her. That had been made clear as soon as she visited his family. Oh, she knew it wasn't fair to judge someone by anything other than himself, but Pete fit into his family so well. They were clearly close and their lifestyle was one in which Pete felt comfortable. As much as she'd always yearned for the 'white picket fence' life, she knew now that it wasn't for her. At least it wasn't for her with Pete.
As much as he loved her, it wouldn't take long for the rosy picture to grow dim. He'd begin to resent her focus on duty and service. He'd want her there, for him, one hundred percent. And the thing was, she couldn't fault him for that. He was a good man and it was what he deserved. She knew he'd also be there for his wife one hundred percent. The fact was, he just wasn't the one for her.
She knew, in her heart of hearts, that for the right man she too would be there totally. Oh, duty and honor were an essential part of her, but with the right person she could continue to serve but also to give. The problem was, she couldn't have that 'right person'.
"Are you okay Sam?" Daniel asked. She hadn't even realized she'd let out a small whimper at the thought of not being able to be with the man she truly loved. She glanced at her friend and simply shook her head. Until Jack was back with them, healthy and whole, she wasn't going to be 'okay'.
"He'll make it Sam. You've gotta have faith." Daniel reached over and took her hand, which was icy cold. "Come here", he said, pulling her towards him. He put his arms around her and held her close as the tears began to course down her cheeks.
"What if he dies Daniel? What am I going to do?" she sobbed. "I never told him." Daniel held her for a few more seconds until he finally realized she wasn't going to continue.
"Tell him what Sam?" He pulled his head back to look at her but she had her head buried in his chest.
"That I loved him." Oh boy, he thought, there opens a big can of worms.
"Love him? You mean Jack?" Her head simply nodded into his shirt. "What about Pete?" That caused a torrent of sobs. Daniel looked over at Teal'c in panic. 'What should I do?', he mouthed to his friend. Teal'c, the coward, simply shrugged.
"I don't love Pete", she hiccupped. "Jack just told me to get a life so I did. I didn't think he cared anymore."
"Who? Jack?" he asked in disbelief. "Come on Sam, Jack has never stopped caring for you or for any of us."
"I believe she means that he cares for her more than he is supposed to, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c quoted the words Jack had used during the Zatarc episode. Daniel looked up in surprise.
"You mean … but Sam, you're the one who moved on, not Jack. Why would you think he didn't uh 'care for you' anymore?"
"He didn't stop me." she answered quietly – again only speaking to the shirt.
"Didn't stop you? From what?" he asked. This was a very confusing, and surprising, conversation.
"From Pete."
"He didn't stop you from Pete? You mean from dating Pete?" another nod answered that question.
"But Sam, how could he? He's your commanding officer. You could have him up on charges for something like that. He'd never compromise you like that. And you know how proud he is of you, of how far you've come. He'd never do anything to harm your career."
Sam was totally still, absorbing Daniel's words. He wasn't saying anything she didn't know already, but hearing them from another source made her realize again how self-sacrificing Jack was. Damn him!
She finally pulled away from Daniel and wiped her eyes, and nose, on her sleeve. Daniel and Teal'c both raised their eyebrows at this. Usually Sam was the soul of decorum and good manners.
"Damn him", she repeated, this time out loud. "Why does he always have to put everyone else first? Can't he for once do something selfish and, and human?"
"Uh … like what Sam?"
"Like maybe simply tell me how he feels – that he doesn't want me to date other men, that even if we can't be together he loves me and he'll wait for me."
Daniel sighed. He really hadn't thought that he'd spend the day giving advice to the lovelorn – especially since his best friend was out there, in the middle of a snowstorm, probably hurt. He turned and faced Sam fully again.
"Look Sam, if he is in love with you that's the last thing he'd do. It may be a cliché but it's true; real love is doing what's best for the other person, wanting them to be happy. By saying those things to you he'd know he was putting you under an obligation and that he was pressuring you to wait. If Jack truly loves you, and I think he does, then he's going to do what's best for you – not for him. He let you go because he wants you to be happy. I'm sure it was the hardest thing he ever did but, you know what Sam, it was the right thing and he knew it. He didn't once complain or make fun of Pete – he respected your decision and wanted you to be happy. Don't take that away from him by being angry. You should be grateful that he loves you enough to let you go."
"If you love something set it free? Is that it Daniel?" she laughed, a bitter sound. "I'm not a butterfly, I'm an officer and a mature woman. You'd think he could let me make my own decision."
"But he did Sam. He let you decide. You were the one that moved on, not him. You could have chosen to wait without him saying anything. If anyone should be angry and hurt it's Jack, not you." He didn't want to be harsh, especially now, but he thought it only right to defend his friend. Jack had been the one to have to deal with the heartache of losing the woman he loved so he deserved to be defended to that woman.
That stopped her cold. She looked up at one of the best friends she'd ever had and realized she'd just received a slap in the face – but one that she deserved. He was right. She was sitting here, angry at Jack (and truthfully, she'd been feeling angry at him for weeks) when all along it had been her decision. The time on the Prometheus had been all her, not Jack, and yet she'd somehow blamed him for that as well; as if her illusion of him was really him speaking.
God, what a fool she was. She looked up at Daniel and noticed his stricken face. He'd spoken what he felt, but still felt terrible. With a small smile she reached out and touched his face.
"Thank you. I needed that."
"Ah geeze, Sam, I'm sorry. Now's not the time for this. I should have kept my mouth shut."
"That is a difficult task for you Daniel Jackson." Daniel looked over in shock at his friend. "But this time I think you did well. It was time for Samantha to hear the truth, even though it is sometimes difficult."
"Do you think I made a mistake Teal'c?" she asked. Although the Jaffa spoke much less than Daniel, sometimes what little he said was very wise.
"I believe you did what you had to do. But now, I believe you must face the truth and make your next decision wisely. It is up to you. It has always been up to you but now you act with your eyes open."
"Yes, I guess you're right. So tell me, any suggestions from either of you as to what I should do when we find Jack?" This time it was she who spoke confidently. Somehow, through the course of this conversation, she had come to believe that Jack was alive and that he would come back to her – them.
"Uh … I think that's for you to decide Sam. But I do think you and Jack need to talk. You never do, you know, and I think that's part of the problem." Daniel had said all he was going to say. He just hoped it had been enough.
"Teal'c? Any words of wisdom?"
"All I would say is examine your heart – and decide where you want to see yourself in five or ten years. Sometimes we get so caught up in the now that we forget the future."
With those words the three friends again became silent, simply waiting. It was almost 6:00 o'clock before the weather had cleared enough for the helicopters to go out. Sam, Daniel and Teal'c all dressed in their warm clothes and headed out with the rescue crew, all hoping that they would find the plane – with its occupants alive – quickly.
The Plane
He'd drifted in and out of awareness all afternoon (although he himself had no idea as to the time). He had, however, managed to keep himself from falling asleep. He knew he was growing colder and weaker. He'd hoped that he didn't have any internal injuries but now wasn't so sure. He felt a strange lethargy fall over him and worried that he was bleeding internally. It could simply be the cold and the blood loss from his obvious wounds and he tried to keep that thought in his mind. No sense panicking unnecessarily.
His other thoughts throughout the day were less clear. He kept seeing the same faces over and over again but he couldn't figure out who they were. There were two bald men – one tall and dark skinned, the other shorter and white. There was a young man with dark hair and glasses and finally, there was the blond. She was the one whose face kept popping into his head. Every time he wanted to give up she would appear. One time she even threatened to 'kick his ass' if he gave up. He didn't know why, but he knew he had to listen to her so he kept going.
He no longer thought about Sara. With a small 'pang' of sadness he somehow knew she was no longer in his life. As far as his son was concerned, well, he'd known from the beginning he was gone.
As darkness had fallen, putting out even the faint light that had crept through during the storm, he had begun to feel a sense of despair. He felt like his last chance was coming to an end. He knew if someone didn't find him soon he would not survive the night. The temperature had dropped steadily and he was already feeling the effects of hypothermia. Added to that was the loss of blood and the various wounds he'd suffered. He hadn't even tried to figure out what else was wrong with him. If he couldn't bandage it it really didn't matter.
Suddenly, out of nowhere came a new thought. He still didn't know where he was, or even the year, but he remembered that it was Christmas. How that thought had crept in he didn't know but, for some reason, it gave him a measure of comfort.
As he sat there, sure in his own mind that he was slowly dying, he began to hum. He remembered the Christmas carols he'd learned as a boy. He started with 'Silent Night' – somehow that seemed appropriate as he sat there alone, in the cold. From there he moved through as many as he could remember. Most of the songs were hymns, remembered from going to church as a young boy. He hadn't been in years but was amazed at how easily they came back to him. After a while he began to believe that as long as he kept singing he would stay alive. If he stopped, he'd know that was the end.
As the evening wore on into night he kept singing and humming. Sometimes it was a faint sound, which was barely audible. The pain and shortness of breath making it increasingly more difficult – but still he kept on. He even threw in a few popular songs like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (Charlie had always liked that one). He pulled out his Spanish and even sang 'Feliz Navidad'. He was just glad Daniel wasn't here to make fun of him!
Daniel! Teal'c! Sam! Suddenly his memories came back to him. As he sang to himself, ever more slowly, ever more softly he was warmed by the memories of his friends. He knew now that he wasn't on a mission – no, he was on his way to spend Christmas by himself. But he knew, in his heart, that his friends were still with him, no matter how far away they were.
In actual fact, his friends were not far away at all. They had been flying around for a couple of hours, searching the area for signs of a crash. The pilot finally indicated they had to return for refueling when Sam had the oddest sensation. She suddenly thought she heard singing. It must have been her imagination but she was sure she could hear someone singing The First Noel.
"Daniel, did you hear that?" She looked at her companions and saw that they too looked as if something had startled them.
"Yeah – it sounds like singing – although how we can hear it over the sound of the chopper I have no idea. Teal'c?"
"Yes, I hear it as well. I also see a light." He pointed ahead and, sure enough, there was a light, which seemed to be illuminating a small area of ground.
Sam reached forward and tapped on the pilot's shoulder. She pointed ahead, to the light.
"Can we check that out before heading back?" she asked. With a quick look at the fuel gauge the pilot nodded and headed towards the light.
He was almost out of breath. As he finished the song – one of his favorites – he knew he could sing no more. This was it, this was the end. Somehow though, it seemed fitting that it was Christmas. Maybe this way God would look more favorably on him when he reached those pearly gates.
As he sang the last words to the song he became conscious of another sound. It started out softly but then grew louder. He listened intently hoping, then praying it wasn't his imagination. It sounded like a helicopter. Maybe his time hadn't run out after all.
"There! There it is!" shouted Daniel. The three friends looked down and, sure enough, there was the wreckage of the plane. When they looked closely at it, in the light from the chopper, their hearts all sank. It looked like the plane was all but destroyed. A small portion was intact but the front had slammed into a small hill and there were pieces lying in all directions. It took a few moments for the chopper to find a safe place to land. It had barely touched the ground before the three teammates were running madly for the plane. Teal'c was the first to arrive, his long legs giving him the advantage. He was followed only seconds later by the other two. It took a few moments for the team to be able to clear a path into the wrecked aircraft. They each had a flashlight and began to do a sweep of the interior.
It was Sam who found the dark shape over by the jeep. It took her a second before she realized it was a body … no, a person, she corrected herself.
"Over here!" she shouted, making her way over to the dark figure. She knelt down and looked into the eyes of her commander.
"Hey Carter", he whispered. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas Sir", she said softly back, tears gathering in her eyes. "We didn't want you to celebrate alone so we decided to join you. I hope that's okay?"
"Yup – I'd like that. But what about … Pete?" he gasped out.
"Pete? He was a mistake Sir. He's gone. I have everything I need right here." She continued to look at him as the paramedics rushed up and took over. As they stabilized him and got him on the stretcher she continued to stay close, even holding his hand when the medics were finished.
Jack looked at Sam in wonder, realizing that she had been with him the entire time he'd been in the plane. Seeing her face now, he knew something had changed. He also knew, after this latest near-death experience – that it was now or never. He could no longer wait for some possible future with this woman. No – it was time he retired anyway. Looking up he gave her a smile and a wink.
"Wanna go fishin' Sam?" he asked, this once and final time.
"Yes Jack – as soon as you're up – and the ice is gone – I want to go fishing."
He simply smiled and closed his eyes, letting the drugs begin to take affect.
"Hey Jack – I thought you said you were going to kick back and take it easy this Christmas?" Daniel stood by the stretcher as they medics prepared to lift him up.
"Hey … that's what I was …. doin' Daniel – till you came and crashed my party. Just sittin here singin Christmas .. carols."
The three friends turned and looked at each other. No … it couldn't be … could it? They all wondered. It was Christmas though – and they'd witnessed their share of miracles in the past.
"So, what were you singing Jack?"
"All …. sorts. Last one was ….. First Noel…. One of my favorites."
At that the three members of SG1 had to move back as the paramedics lifted the stretcher. As Jack was carried into the waiting chopper Daniel turned and said,
"Couldn't have been a more fitting song." As Sam nodded and Teal'c raised his eyebrows they followed their friend to the chopper and home. They were once again together for Christmas.
If you can't remember them – check out the words to The First Noel.
The first Noel, the angel