Blue Velvet Angel, a stargate: sg-1 fanfic

Title: Blue Velvet Angel – A Christmas Story
Author: HailDorothy aka HDorothy
Category: Angst/friendship/humor/romance
Warning: None
Rating: K
Season: 10
Spoilers: Everything up onto S10
Pairing: J/S

Summary: Twenty-five years ago a lonely Air Force pilot asked God for an angel and got one.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters and situations of this story are the property of said author. HailDorothy © 12/24/06 Feedback: Gosh, darn, don't make me beg! Pretty Please??? Starvation of this writer's muse is no pleasant sight. All feedback is food for thought and well digested. "Feed me, Seymour!" (The Little Shop of Horrors)

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25 years ago Officers Club: Ramstein Air Base, Germany

'This is Christmas And what have you done Another year over And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas I hope you have fun The near and the dear one The old and the young
A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear
And so this is Christmas For weak and for strong For rich and the poor ones The world is so wrong

And so happy Christmas For black and for white For yellow and red ones Let's stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear
And so this is Christmas And what have we done Another year over And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas I hope you have fun The near and the dear one The old and the young

A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear
War is over, over If you want it War is over Now . . .'

Christmas away from home, sucked!

Major Jack O'Neill sat at a table surrounded by fellow airman and officers but, never the less, strangers. Everyone, even his best buds Kawalsky and Ferretti had managed to get home. Jack had yet to accept 'why' he got stranded in Germany on Christmas Eve. Oh, yeah, the freaking Soviets were at it again, accusing the United States of invading their airspace. Which, they probably did. So not only was there the no fly zone issue, all military personal and aircraft were grounded.

This was his first Christmas away from his wife Sara since they'd started dating, even worse, second Christmas as husband and wife. Despite that Sara said she understood, he'd heard the hurt in her voice as he told her he missed her and then pledged his love, above the din of officers and airmen waiting for the phone.

Stretching out his legs, Jack turned in the hard chair and held the second glass of Christmas cheer he'd been toying with for over an hour. Spiked eggnog. He was so depressed he didn't even want to get snookered. A Christmas morning hangover never was his thing. He thought about all the traditional things he'd miss. Decorating the tree, playing Santa to Sara's nieces and nephews and midnight mass to remember the real reason for the season.

Crap! He was home sick. Jack swished the eggnog in his mouth, swallowed and then closed his aching eyes. Holiday music played while airmen, marines, sailors, GI's, infantry and officers with families mingled at the USO sponsored gathering. For most of them, this was home. After all, their families were here and the old saying, home is where the heart is, was never so obvious. Laughter and cheerful voices resonated around him.

Despite his black mood he was moved by the holiday joy. Christmas remained Jack's favorite holiday. Although a closet Christian, he took his faith seriously. But even the Christmas Eve chapel service hadn't lifted his spirits. Now he wondered why he'd come here tonight. He missed Sara!

"It's not good to be alone on Christmas, Jack." His saintly Irish grandmother once said. "Remember you're never alone. God is with you, son, and if you ask, He'll send you an angel."

"Could use one of those angels about now, Lord." He groused and lifted his lukewarm coffee. Something floated on top. Geez, why did every dust bunny or bug have to crash his caffeine fix? He flicked out the offensive critter, sipped the stale coffee and then cringed. He glanced about for a fresh pot. Not a one in sight.

Children's laughter warmed the military base hall and tugged at his heart. He'd eyed several kids smiling faces, but none had caught his gaze long enough to make a connection. Jack loved kids of all ages. He and Sara had been trying but so far no luck. He'd feared something was wrong with one of them. But Sara had gotten an okay from her doctor, so had Jack. His military career was no doubt partially to blame. He was gone so much and Sara had voiced her opinion more than once, that raising a child whose father did covert missions was not her idea of a secure family life. Besides that, she had her nursing career. Meanwhile, Jack pushed the issue to verbal disputes. He wanted a family and insisted he'd be there for her and the kids.

He suspected Sara was still on birth control, but hadn't confronted her. Geez, he hoped he was wrong. He couldn't bare the thought that Sara didn't want children, let alone, his. No doubt the holiday blues were making him doubt the woman he loved. Love! Jack couldn't believe this fantastic woman loved him. How any woman could love Jack O'Neill, was beyond his comprehension, but Sara did and that was enough. Almost. He wanted a family, badly.

On stage performing with the USO troupe, Bobby Vinton sang,

'I'll be home for Christmas You can count on me

Please have snow And mistletoe And presents on the tree

Christmas eve will find me Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams

Christmas eve will find me Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams
If only in my dreams . . .'

"Please don't cry, Major," a soft feminine voice spoke from behind him.

He swiped at his maverick tears and shoved upright in his chair. Jack rarely cried and hated when especially Sara caught him. Jack turned to stare into ocean blue eyes with a shade of gray. He cleared his throat and waved a hand of dismissal. "Yes. Well. Got something in my eye, that's all."

"Yeah. Whatever." She plopped un-ceremonially into the chair beside him and then filled his empty cup from a fresh pot of coffee. As she fluttered her beautiful eyes and smiled, Jack glimpsed a mouthful of braces concealed by her fine-boned hand.

Hearing his familiar comeback spouted by a teenager was just plain weird. For a moment Jack watched her watch him. To his amusement it became a stare down as she propped her delicate chin on her wrists and leaned forward. Jack didn't break eye contact, while his Black Ops keenness recalled what he'd already deduced about her.

The teen wore a conservative, long sleeved, blue velvet dress that emphasized her slender torso and youthful breasts, while a silver necklace with a star pendant stood out against the ivory freckled skin of her neckline. She was tall for her age, which he figured was around fourteen or fifteen. Shoulder length blonde hair framed a heart shaped face and a porcelain complexion dusted with freckles and the cutest nose ever. And those eyes! Heaven help her parents. She was going to break many hearts. Jack felt amazed they'd allowed her to flirt with an officer and lucky for her, a gentleman. She was flirting, right, or more realistically being kind to a forlorn flyboy on Christmas Eve. Either way, he'd enjoy the distraction. He felt desperately lonely and needed to talk with someone, even this adorable kid.

"So." He broke the ice, but not their stare down.

"So." She mimicked, holding his gaze. 'Wow, she's got balls.' Jack was known for his doggedly glares and stares downs. He and Kawalsky played the game whenever they got bored. Jack always won.

"How long we going ta keep this up?"

"Sir?" She discreetly covered her mouth.

"Um, name's Jack." His stare turned threatening, waiting for her to break.

Not a flinch.

Jack was impressed.

"Sir Jack. I like that. My dad's a stickler for addressing officers by sir, Sir Jack. Major Jack O'Neill. Wow! You've got the darkest brown eyes ever. Like are they real or are they Memorex? Now there's a cliché, you know. So who ya think's going to win the Super Bowl? Actually I don't like football, hockey's better and—."

"Well that's a load! Geez, I hate clichés. Another chatter mouthed Air Force brat. Figures." Jack rolled his eyes and in surrender tossed his hands skyward.

"And she scores!" She laughed softly and pumped her arm in the air. "Like your dimples, Sir Jack, but your eyes are amazing."

Conniving too! Which took him by surprise. And I like your eyes, he mused. "Bet I'd like your smile if you'd show it."

"Um, I . . ." She closed her mouth tighter and looked away.

"Hey." Jack reached over and gently peeled her splayed fingers off of her face. "Smile? Please?"

Blushing, she slowly opened her mouth, arching her lips upward and met his encouraging gaze.

"Much better. You've a beautiful smile. Don't hide it anymore, okay?"

She nodded and blushed brighter. "Okay, Sir Jack."

"Now that we've established who I am. You are?"

"Samantha Jean."

"Nice to meet you, Samantha Jean. And your parents?" He glanced around the decorated hall.

"My mom died two years ago." Her gaze dipped low. "But my dad and my brother Mark are over there." She gestured to a table, but too many partygoers blocked his view. "You're welcome to join us."

"Ah, thanks, but I'm heading back to base guest quarters." He lifted his green fatigue hat from the empty chair and played with the precision made crease.

"So you're not stationed here?"

"Nope. Just passing through, ma'am." He nodded and then frowned. "Sorry about your mother."

"Thank you." She avoided his sympathetic look and Jack sensed her loss was recent. She fiddled with a red napkin and duplicated the military fold of his hat. She'd obviously been practicing. "We'd planned to be home for Christmas. Guess like you, we're stuck here for the holidays. Personally," she leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "Christmas away from home sucks."

'Wow! Jack looked at her, really looked at her, and recognized the walls she had erected at such a tender age. What do you know, Jack, despite her outgoing nature, she's as emotionally repressed as you. "That's just wrong on so many levels."

"What?" She glanced up at him and arched a light brown brow.

"You're too young to be cynical."

"I'm not a cynic, Major Jack, just realistic. Since mom died I don't like holidays. Especially Christmas. Don't believe in God anymore than I do Santa Claus."

"A shame." He sniffed a breath and dragged his tongue over his lips. "We all need to believe in someone or something, and that there's a reason we're here." He gestured around him, thinking he must be having one of his rare philosophical moments, especially religion. Really, really, rare, Jack. Gotta be the eggnog.

"So you buy this baby Jesus stuff?" She thrust out her chin and then tucked it in, which reminded him of a cooing Turtledove. 'Cute kid. Geez, now I'm thinking cute. Just what was in that eggnog?'

"Yeah, some days, more than others. But yeah, I believe in God and that tonight and tomorrow we celebrate the birth of His son, Jesus."

"This isn't his real birthday ya know."

"Do tell?" He encouraged, settling back in his chair.

"Yes. Dionysius Exiguusa a monk in Italy, invented our current calendar which relates all events in years prior to or after Christ's birth—BC which means Before Christ and AD Anno Domini, which means, In the year of our Lord. Oh, and . . ." Hand whirling, her blues eyes sparked with excitement. "AUC—ab urbe condita, means, from the founding of Rome."

"Ah huh." Jack felt an incoming headache. "Er. . .umm—," He raised a hand to interrupt, but she didn't seem to notice and leaned closer as she rambled her scientific mumble jumble.

"You see, Sir Jack, by studying the old records, Exiguus figured the date of the birth of Christ to have occurred in 754 AUC, but this proved to be in error. In fact, based on the earlier calendar, Christ's birth is establish at the latest in 750 AUC because Christ was born during the time of Herod the Great, who died in this year, furthermore that means the entire millennium is off by 4 years. Some say five but according to my calculations—"

"I see." No he didn't. "Time out!" He made the T hand signal and blew out through his mouth.

"Um, sorry. Its just so darn fascinating, sir," she said breathlessly.

"I'm sure it is." He rolled his eyes. If he could just figure out what she'd said.

"Man oh man, we're off by months on Christ's birthday and years with the true calendar."

"Oy Vey!" Jack sat up straighter. "So you're saying my Farmers Almanac's wrong?"

She tipped her blonde head and blinked. "That's what I just said. See the monk Exiguus—"

"Na-ah!" He flagged a finger. "Even if Jesus wasn't born on December 25th what has that do to with when we celebrate his birthday?"

"I um, well, Sir Jack, how'd you feel if everyone sent you a birthday card on the wrong day?"

"Ah, good point. Still I don't think God loses sleep over when we throw him the biggest birthday bash in the world, every year."

Chewing a ragged fingernail, Samantha Jean held his self-assured gaze then nodded. "It shows, ya know."

"What?" He glanced nervously around.

"That you've got faith. Even though I don't believe in God I believe in faith. To believe in someone, trust that person with your heart and your life, to watch your six, no matter what. My dad taught me that. Just don't tell him I don't believe in God anymore?" She glanced at the table she'd indicated before. "He'd kill me."

"Promise. Wouldn't want your blood on my hands." He smiled and got another metallic grin in return. "Just hope you change your mind and give God another chance."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"I suspect you believe in God. You're just angry at him and that's why you deny he exists."

"You're very spiritually deep."

"Yeah, well don't advertise that either, Samantha Jean." He was tempted to ask her last name, but didn't. Besides the odds of them ever crossing paths were slim to none. A comfortable silence settled between them. Not something he often felt with other people, comfortable. Jack didn't feel alone anymore. He liked the teen and hoped that someday he and Sara might have a girl just as pretty, sweet, and straightforward. That would be nice. Yeah.

"You're a pilot?" She pointed at his wings and her eyes seemed to brighten even more if possible.

"Yep." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop and exhaled, wondering if daddy was a major, colonel or general. Either way he should head back to the barracks.

"So what you do for real? Special Ops? My Dad was until Mom died."

Jack gaped. She asked too many questions and was way too close to the truth for Jack's comfort. So he gave her 'the look.'

"Yep, got the pokerfaced expression down pat."

"You don't say."

"Come on, tell me something? Anything?" she asked with those persuasive eyes that could steal a man's heart and soul.

"If I did, I'd have to shoot you." He said in his bite me tone and then grinned, to assure her he was kidding.

"Man, oh, man, I hear that all the time." She snorted.

"Sorry." He patted her forearm. "Well, young lady, this pokerface's going to call it a night." He motioned to stand, but she snatched his right hand and turned it palm up, examining it. Jack intended to pull free, but concentration brightened her face and he relaxed. 'What harm can a few more minutes do?'

"Confusing, huh?" He chuckled and waggled his brows.

"Amazing." She focused and trailed her index finger along his calloused palm. "You have an extreme long life line, sir."

"Irish genes." He smirked, not believing in palm reading but deciding to humor her. "What else ya see?" He cocked a brow and bent forward, intrigued by her studious expression.

"Danger. Adventure. Romance. Covert operations, East Germany, Central American—"

"Oy!" Jack winced and she looked up at him wide-eyed.

"Holy Hannah! I'm right?" Her baby blues twinkled with astonishment.

"Gotcha!" His mouth twisted into a mocking grin, but his gut ached with her accuracy.

"Humph!" She let out a sigh and refocused on his palm. "I see you traveling to galaxies far, far away." She giggled.

"Fighting the evils of um, Dark Vader, hey?" Jack snorted and their gazes locked and held, until Samantha returned hers to his hand. Her silky hair cascaded over his exposed wrist making him starkly aware that she was a blossoming woman and his mind wandered into forbidden territory. Like how she'd look in a few years. Breathtaking! 'Yep, time to go, Jack.'

"I see a brilliant blonde in your future, Sir Jack."

Present, Jack mused about Sara. "Cool." He winked and waved his free hand.

"But many years will pass before you meet her, again."

"Ah, if you say so." Jack frowned his confusion and eased from her warm grasp, ending their palm reading session. "So what you going to be when you grow up, Samantha Jean?"

"An astronaut."

"Sweet." He reached over and fingered the star shaped pendant. "A star chaser, huh?"

"Yeah." She glanced to where he held the pendant and smiled.

"Air Force?" He recognized the set of wings inside the silvery star pendant as he examined the fine metalwork before letting go.

"Is there any other?" She revealed more braces, which made him smile.

"Ah, um, don't let those Marines hear ya." He winked. "I don't do brawls on Christmas Eve."

"'I'm not stupid, Sir Jack." She glanced at the dozen Marines. "Besides they're jarheads, we could take them hands down."

Swallowing his coffee, Jack almost choked. When he looked up she was smirking like the cat that ate the rat or was it canary? Geez, another cliché!

"Ya think?" He grinned, liking the way this very pretty teen kept him off center.

"My dad says I think too much."

"I think I doth agree, fair maiden."

"Never met a knight before." Her full mouth lifted and a stain of crimson swept up her neck.

"Me either." He snorted. Amazed by the sparkage between them Jack shoved back in his chair. This was getting downright weird. 'Hit the road, Jack!' And yet, he didn't, but felt his smile flat-line. Arms akimbo, he tried to rationalize the irrational going on inside his head and heart. Not that it was romantic or sexual. Just that he felt an emotional link with her, like they were bonded. Weird!

"Actually," she didn't seem disturbed by his deadpan expression. "First, I'll get my doctorate in astrophysics, become a pilot and then an astronaut." She stated so confidently Jack didn't doubt her.

"Oy! Just what the Air Force needs is a blonde, blue-eyed geek." He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his military cut, followed by an indignant groan. When he glanced over, she was so not smiling. He liked teasing her—way too much. Time to leave.

"Don't like scientists, huh?" She glowered.

"Don't like techno-babble." He answered honestly and winked.

"In order to be a pilot, you've got to understand and speak techno-babble." She disputed.

"Yes, well, I've a knack for simplifying all that crap." He sniffed and scratched his lower back.

"One of those." She waved a hand for emphasis.

"Excuse me?" He felt the indent between his brows deepen.

"Smarter than you act. You're black and white. Don't like nothing complicated, drawn out explanations or surprises. Am I right?"

Jack's brow hitched a notch up his forehead and his temples ached. She was so in tuned with him it was scary. "That's me, a lot'sa nothing. Basic Jack. And, you sound like you've got your life all planned out, and thrive on the problematical." Had he just used a word with more than three syllables? 'Stop it, Jack, or she'll know you really are smarter than the average bear.'

"Love puzzles. Taking things a part, putting them together better they were. When I was five I dismantled our dishwasher and reassembled it, eliminated a rinse cycle, washing the dishes in half the time, cleaner and more efficient."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Smiling broadly, Jack shook his head. The girl was a genius. Way too smart for the likes of him.

"It did my parents, especially dad." She looked reflective. Yep. A geek. "Life's only complicated if we let our emotions interfere, Sir Jack. I won't let that happen."

"So no boyfriend?"

"Never!" She snorted.

"Never, ever, say never, Samantha."

"Boys don't like me. Besides, all I've ever seen of love in the military is heartache, Sir Jack." She tented her chin on her fingers and sighed with regret.

"Ah, yes, you are so old and so wise, for one so young." He chuckled only to see her eyes brim with tears before she looked away. "Sorry. I shouldn't have . . ." He reached over and stroked her trembling hand.

"That's all right." She sniffed and sat upright. "Romantic love is highly overrated. Not that maybe someday . . ." She blushed, causing heat beneath Jack's tan. He let go. "But he has to be someone who'll love me unconditionally and as his equal, and not be intimidated by a smart woman let alone, one who likes to arm wrestle and usually wins."

"Arm wrestle? Well, now we're talking. Won lots of arm-wrestling matches. Still do. I'll have to take you up on that someday."

"Not now?" she sounded disappointed.

"Um, perhaps another time." He glanced around and made a face that said, this isn't the best place.

"Understood, Sir Jack. Another time, and less witnesses when I whip your butt."

"Pretty sure of yourself?"

"Have to be."

"Well, next time we meet, you make sure to challenge me, okay?"

"I will, sir." She lowered her gaze as if embarrassed by her forwardness.

Jack chuckled, sniffed a breath and smiled. Brassy and shy. Cool. "If it's any consolation, I don't think you're the least bit intimidating, Samantha. If anything you're a lovely rare flower and whoever ends up with you as his girl, is going to be one very happy camper."

"Really?"

"Yeah sure yabetcha. You've got a big trusting heart to talk to a lonely stranger who needed his soaked spirits lifted."

"You mean dampened spirits."

"Whatever." He shrugged.

"And did I lift them?" she asked warmly.

"Oh, yeah. I needed an angel and got a beautiful blue velvet angel. You. Believe me, Samantha Jean, one day you'll meet someone who will appreciate your beauty and brains as well as your generous heart." He stood to leave, taking up his hat.

"Man, oh, man!" She stared at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"What? Got broccoli between my teeth?" He dragged a fingernail between two teeth and grimaced.

"No. Just besides my dad, guys never say I'm pretty, let alone that they aren't intimidated by me."

Jack smiled down at her and slipped a silky blonde strand behind her delicate left ear, then cupped her chin. "You are a special person, Samantha Jean. Don't let anyone or any man keep you from chasing those stars. That's an order."

"I won't, Sir Jack." Sam smiled up at him and initiated a sharp salute that she held until he nodded.

"Well, there you go." He saluted back, winked and marched away, feeling better than he had in days. Jack stepped outside, lit up a much needed, cigarette and took a long drag. As snow kissed his face, he took in the white wintry wonderland, one more thing to be thankful for. Yeah.

And then the strangest thing happened. The outdoor PA speaker piped the live music and Bobby Vinton sang,

"She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet was the night, Softer than satin was the light, From the stars. She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet were her eyes, Warmer than May her tender sighs

Love was ours. Ours a love I held tightly, Feeling the rapture grow, Like a flame burning brightly. But when she left, gone was the glow of Blue velvet, But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm, a memory through the years. And I still can see blue velvet through my tears."

Jack hugged himself and realized he was thinking about Samantha and for crying out loud, he was crying. This was nuts! He should be thinking about Sara, about not being home for Christmas and--

"Sir Jack?"

He pivoted to find Samantha rushing into the cold wintry night, blonde hair framing her pretty face, bright blue eyes matching the blue velvet dress that clung to her slender frame. For a moment she looked older than her fourteen years. She looked like a blue velvet angel. Jack shook those dangerous thoughts from his head.

"Hey! Get inside, before you catch cold." He exhaled the smoke and ordered in a paternal tone.

"I will. Just um, wait, huh?" Shivering, she unclasped her necklace and placed it in his free hand.

"What?" Jack glanced down as the parking lights revealed the shimmering silver, star necklace.

"Merry Christmas, Jack. Promise to give this to that brilliant woman in your future? I'm sure you'll know when the time comes. "

"Ah, you okay with this?" He winced.

"Yeah. For the first time since mom died, I've never been so certain about anything."

"And just what are you certain about, Samantha Jean?" Filled with his own uncertainty, he held her genuine smile in his eyes. 'She's something else! Whoever gets this girl for life, will be one lucky SOB.'

"That you're a safe bet, Jack O'Neill. And whoever she is, that woman's very lucky."

"Oh," he mouthed concluding Samantha Jean had a crush on him. 'Crap! Way to go, O'Neill! You are so dead. Not to mention, a court martial offense. Oy Vey!' "Wish I had something to give you in return." He patted his empty coat pockets with his free hand.

"You already did, Sir Jack. I'd felt alone and depressed. I don't anymore." She smiled warmly.

"Back at ya, Samantha Jean." He grinned.

Samantha hugged her chilled arms and glanced at the burning cigarette dangling from his right fingers. "But if you want to do me a favor, you could give up that nasty habit before we meet again." Her breath misted the air between them.

Jack coughed at her brashness, and ditched the cig, grinding it out with his boot heel. "Don't ask for much, do ya?"

"Just want you to live up to your lifeline, Sir Jack."

"Promise." He smiled and wondered if she was an angel, after all.

"Hey kiddo, whatcha doing out here? Who you talking too?"

Jack looked passed Samantha to the bald headed officer in the open doorway. Double crap! A full-blown colonel!

"Coming, Dad." She called back and then pushed up on her toes and kissed Jack softly, but firmly on the mouth.

Her chaste kiss caused a delightful tingle to lodge in Jack's gut.

"Till later, flyboy." She giggled and turned away. Jack watched her long, legged sprint back into the hall and the arms of the man standing there.

For an unnerving moment the colonel stared at Jack, who kept his cool and saluted before turning on his heel. Nervous, Jack strode off praying daddy didn't send the SFs after him. Jailbait was so not his style. Feeling the star pendant in his hand, he decided to give it to Sara. Yeah, she'd like it, a lot.

Half way across the parking lot, a shiver shot down Jack's spine. He figured Samantha's father was closing down on him. Crap! Jack braced for a butt chewing, but when he turned he found himself alone. Well almost. A girl about eight-years-old stood behind him. She had long curly brown hair and a cute freckled face. She didn't look lost let alone cold considering she only wore a lacy, white pinafore dress and black-patented shoes.

"Hey, how come you're out here alone?" Jack glanced around before hunkering down to face her. She had the bluest eyes—just like Samantha Jean's. Weird.

"I'm not alone. You're here." She smiled up at him, revealing a missing front tooth. "And my mom's in there." She waved her arm at the brightly lit USO building behind them.

"What's your name, hon?"

"Grace."

"Well, aren't you cold, Grace?" He started to remove his coat for her.

"Nope. It's Christmas Eve." She lifted her hands and adorable face heavenward then stuck out her tongue to catch snowflakes.

Jack chuckled and realized he didn't feel cold either. Weirder. It felt as if the wind had died and he was standing in a warm cozy space—with cold snow falling on his head and face—that didn't melt. Way too much spiked eggnog!

"Well, we better get you back inside to your mother." He motioned to stand and take her hand.

"Oh, she's not ready for me . . .yet. But I'll see her later."

"Huh?"

The little girl's smile turned serious and she touched Jack's cheek. The moment her fingers brushed his skin Jack felt immense warmth and peace. "I know it's going to be a long time before you meet Mommy again, Daddy. But no matter what, please don't lose your faith."

"First off, I'm not your dad, and I've no reason to lose my faith." Jack felt confused and annoyed.

"Yeah sure yabetcha, you're my daddy. And you will lose faith. You'll even want to kill yourself. But Daniel Jackson will help you."

"Kill myself? Daniel?" Jack held up a finger. "Um, what?" He didn't know anyone named Daniel Jackson.

"And you're going to be royally pissed at God for a long time, Daddy."

"Pissed? Where did you learn such crude language?"

"From you."

"Oy!" Jack felt sure he was delusional.

"I wish I could come sooner but I can't. So you have to get your faith back because God's going to use you to help Mom believe. Charlie said to tell you, it's not your fault. You need to believe that he will always love you. I have to go now. We love you, Daddy." She leaned forward and kissed his whiskered cheek. "Merry Christmas. And don't forget to give mommy her star."

Grace vanished.

Stunned, Jack fell backward onto his butt. The cold December wind whipped around him. He shoved to his feet, brushed off the snow and frantically looked around. No sign of a little girl named Grace. In fact there weren't any footprints in the fresh fallen snow. Jack shivered and not from the cold. Part of him reasoned he should go back into the building and make sure she was real. But the faith part of him knew that he'd just had a spiritual encounter of the third kind. Filing away her cryptic message Jack touched his face that she'd kissed and smiled.

Grace, huh? He hoped Sara would like that name for their daughter. And who was Charlie? Charles? Nope, Charlie O'Neill sounded sweet.

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Present Time: Ramstein Air Base, Germany

A very frustrated, Major General Jack sat in the pilot seat of the F-302 at Hanger Six and listened to the traffic controller over his headgear.

"Sorry, General O'Neill, the weather's closed us in for the night. All flights canceled. Nothing's leaving this base until we get a window of acceptable visibility, and--,"

"For cryin' out loud, this is an F-302, son! Once I lift off, I can clear the storm in 30 seconds flat."

"Yes, sir. But it's those 30 seconds the base commander refuses to take a chance on. Believe me, sir, the first window of opportunity and we'll--." Jack clicked off the two-way, muttered a string of curses, released his safety equipment and helmet, then popped opened the hatch and clambered out of the tight flight compartment.

An Airman had already placed a ladder for his dismount as the hanger doors slid closed against the wicked storm outside. The blizzard was supposed to dump three to five feet over the next twenty-four hours.

"Sorry, sir." The flustered Airman saluted and apologized as Jack stepped onto the hanger's tarmac and handed over his helmet and flight gear.

"Not your fault, son."

The eager to please Major sidestepped the youth and struggled to keep up with Jack's long-legged strides as he headed toward the hanger's ready room. Jack had tried to like Major Evans but his initial gut ache about the officer had proved correct. Evan's was a major suck-up. Jack hated brownnosers.

"I suppose the commercial lines are shut down, Major."

"Yes, sir. Winter storms are slamming the U.S. Midwest as well. Denver International and Paterson are shut down snug as a sleeping baby."

"Just peachy." Jack started to unzip his form fitting flight suit. Of all the lousy timing. So much for surprising Sam with his Christmas gift. Okay, so he had to officially have the gift in order to give it to her. Double crap! "Guess I'll be hanging with the rest of you, fine men and women for Christmas, Evans."

"We look forward to your company, sir. Tonight there's a formal Christmas dance at the Officers Club. The USO will provide entertainment and if you need female companionship I can arrange--."

"Thanks, but I'll pass." Jack's heart was already dragging behind his flight boots without this kiss-up setting him up with a date that put out for the right price. Jack yanked off his flight gloves and fingered the silver wedding band of his left index finger. If the young officer noticed, he didn't react. Then again, infidelity was often commonplace in the military, especially overseas.

"Hope you change your mind, General O'Neill. But meanwhile, we'll send your luggage back to your VIP quarters."

"You do that, son." Jack tried to sound resolved to the fact he was stranded in Germany on Christmas Eve and not just any Christmas Eve. His first Christmas married to Carter and the first Christmas in ten years they'd not be together. Crap! Well, he hadn't made Major General in two years due to lack of cunning. So what if planned A had failed. Jack always had an ace up his sleeve. Plan B? Yeah sure yabetcha!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Despite several close calls, Sam had busted her butt to gate home from Atlantis for her first Christmas as the Mrs. Jack O'Neill. Instead, she sat alone on their sofa talking to her husband who was stuck not on another planet, but just hours away in Germany. Of all the rotten luck!

"Sam, I'm losing you again. Hold on."

She heard a click and then dead air. Her phone rang again and she quickly answered. "Hey."

"Hey. So snowing and a blowing there too? Santa should love that."

"I think Santa's grounded, Jack. We've had over two feet and mores on the way." Now midday in the States, Samantha Carter-O'Neill chewed another nail-tip and stared with damp eyes at the brightly wrapped presents underneath their Christmas tree. Not even Cassandra would be home for Christmas this year. Meanwhile, Daniel, Teal'c, Cam and Vala were spending Christmas downhill skiing in Vale, Colorado. Were it not for the love of her life speaking to her from the other side of the world, she'd feel totally alone.

"Guess we'll just have to celebrate when I get home, babe," Jack said encouragingly with his soft sexy lisp that sent a shiver to her toes.

"Sure. I understand." She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, but failed. Tears welled. Dang, she'd been crying a lot lately.

"Hey, we've been in situations like this before, right?" She winced at his failed upbeat attempt.

"No, Jack. Despite everything that kept us apart all these years, we've managed to be together at Christmas, even if as a team. We always found a way, always."

"I know. Sam-Hon, remember that gift I airmailed you three days backs?"

"Yes. And despite the great temptation, I haven't opened it." She eyed up the gold-foiled package and worried her lower lip, then her upper.

"Good girl." She heard his snicker. "Well, don't just sit there chewing your lips, open it."

"But?" How'd he always know what she was doing? Their cellular reception was so poor they couldn't even use the phone cam.

"No butts, wife. I want you to unwrap it right now."

"Okay. Give me a sec." She set the phone on speaker and collected the large light box, then went about tearing off the horrific wrapping job only Jack O'Neill could perform, blindfolded. Man, he'd put tape everywhere. "What'd you do superglue this thing?" she groused as she finally broke through the gold foil.

"I know how much you love puzzles." He teased.

"Funny, General." Sam tore open the cardboard box and lifted the lid. Her eyes grew the size of moons. "Oh, Jack!" She lifted the shimmering blue velvet evening gown and stood, holding it against her. "It's beautiful!" She snatched up the matching velvet wrap and clutch purse. Sam was glad he couldn't see the stupid grin plastered on her face.

"I assume by the stupid grin on your face, you like it?"

"I love it." She whirled around the living room, and imagined dancing in his arms. "And I love you, Jack!"

"Put on the dress."

"Jack?"

"Please, Sam. I don't how much longer I'll have reception. Lots of cell towers down. After you get the gown on, I want you to put on your lacy strapless bra and thong, and those high black heels and then send me a picture, okay? And don't forget the wrap and purse."

"Wow, you've just dressed me for dinner and dancing, Jack." She laughed and stripped out of her sweats, donned the black undergarments, slipped on the velvet dress, then grabbed her dress heels and eased them onto her feet. The long-sleeved, off the shoulders gown fit her like a glove. Sam had long stopped analyzing Jack's talent for buying her clothes that not only fit but also made the most of her assets in a classy way. Arranging her shoulder length hair, Sam applied lipstick and blusher.

"Okay, General." She set the phone on the fireplace mantel and stepped in front of the small screen and poised. "I'm ready."

"Make sure to stand real still, Carter."

"Yes, sir--" She mocked him a salute and poised. Vertical light flashed. What the! Cold air hit her. Sam blinked. She was standing in a snowstorm. "Crap!" Had she been beamed up by Fifth, again? He was dead, right?

"Sorry about that." Jack's voice rang within earshot.

Someone tossed a warm coat over her wrap and trembling shoulders. Sam blinked against the falling snow. "Jack!"

"That's my name, don't wear it out." He winked. Confused, Sam turned about in circle. They were standing in a snowplowed parking lot. A bright sign read, Ramstein Air Force Base Officers Club.

"You transported me!" Sam exclaimed.

"Ya think?" Jack held out the Asgard stone and then pocketed it as a couple strolled past them, whispering.

Sam's heart thudded. What if they'd witnessed her arrival? "You are so dead." She shivered under his dress coat as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Not quite the greeting I was going for." His mouth flat-lined. "But I'll deal." He grinned down at her. "Don't be mad, it was just a tiny security breach. And that couple didn't see anything."

"Jack, that humongous security breach was--"

"Cleared. Sanctioned. Authorized. Okay-do-keyed."

"By who?"

"Whom." He corrected.

"Jack!"

"Thor."

"Oh for crying out loud!" Her feet turning to ice, she huddled under his coat as he guided her toward the Officers Club.

"You are so beautiful when you're pissed." He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Sam."

"I haven't any security." She shivered and stomped her cold feet.

"Chill, Colonel."

She glared and hugged herself.

"I mean take a deep calming breath." He reached into his pocket and handed over the security pass with her military I.D. card, cleared for the base.

"I so don't wanna know how you got this." She pocketed the card.

"Just called in a few more IOUs."

"I thought you ran out of markers."

"Naw, got a lifetime of them stored up. But when it comes to bartering, Walter has better connections than I do."

"You—you involved Sergeant Harriman?"

"Hey, he volunteered. His Christmas gift to us."

Sam's mouth opened then shut.

"So why didn't you just beam home?"

"I thought this would be a lot more fun."

A smile formed on her trembling lips. "Let's go to your quarters, Jack and um, get warm . . ." she hinted as her left hand slipped beneath his Tuxedo's jacket.

"Wow, as tempting as that sounds." He captured her teasing fingers and kissed their cold tips. "I plan to show you off first, Mrs. O'Neill."

"Then you'll excuse me a minute." She slipped from his hold and sashayed toward the women's powder room. A wolf whistle followed her and she glanced back at the offender. "You are so going to pay, General."

"Bring it on!" He gestured suggestively with his hands.

Laughing, Sam entered the women's room wondering what she was going to do with herself. She'd barely any makeup on and her hair was hopelessly, straight and now wet. She opened the purse to find a makeup bag that included her favorite foundation, lip-gloss, a comb, hair-bands, hairspray and sparkling new diamond studded earrings. The man was diabolical. She couldn't wait to give him his Christmas gift. His expression would be priceless. Concentrating on how and when she'd give Jack his present Sam French-braided her hair, leaving a few wisps to frame her face. When she re-emerged Jack was talking to the attractive coat attendant, who looked even younger than Cassandra.

Despite the new classier décor the block building hadn't changed much. Bittersweet memories flooded over and through her. But before her left-brain could catalog them, Jack was ambling toward her in his eloquent black tux. Even with his untamable gray hair, the man was sinfully delicious in black.

Several younger women stopped and smiled flirtatiously at him. He of course looked flustered as usual. He still hadn't a clue what eye-candy he was to the female species. Sam's heart fluttered with pride, coz that self-effacing silver fox was all hers.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, slipping back a blonde tendril to glimpse her earlobes. "Nice solitaires."

"They must have cost you a fortune."

"Hey, never having time to spend my paychecks paid off. Besides, you're worth it, babe. Shall we?" He then offered his arm and waggled those dark brows, his dimples tucking deep. Sam's mind flashed back to all the times when as her CO, he'd gifted her with that sexy smirk and made certain to walk close enough that their arms or hands would touch. And how after all these years that deep-dimpled smile or the brush of his long calloused fingers made her stomach hit the floor. Tears of happiness warmed Sam's eyes.

Oh, Daddy, she thought, I wish you could see how happy I am. And how right you were. She could still hear Jacob Carter on his deathbed. "Sam, honey, don't let rules stand in your way. You can still have everything you want."

It'd taken her father's in-your-face emotional plea to make Sam realize how much he wanted her happiness. And that what she'd wanted and needed most had always been at her side. Jonathon James O'Neill.

"Um, Sam?" He stared down at her. "You okay?"

"Couldn't be better." She swiped at the tears. "Lead on, sir." She enlisted his arm, but her husband gave his disgruntled hurtful look.

"Oh, sorry, I mean, Jack." She corrected and he smiled brightly.

"I hope they've got cake," he whispered seriously into her ear.

Sam shook her head and laughed. Give her man a fishing pool, a cold beer, and frosted cake and he'd be content the rest of his life. He truly was black and white. As they entered the large decorated dinner and dance hall, the Christmas lights dimmed and the spotlight rested on the singer that stood center stage in front of the orchestra. Sam focused then gasped. Bobby Vinton! Music began to play as a much older Bobby Vinton sang, 'I'll be Home For Christmas.'

"Da ja view." Jack said with a mischievous smile. "Apparently he's here every Christmas."

Before Sam could answer, strobe lighting glittered over their heads and on the dance floor. Her heart in her throat, Sam froze. She swore she wouldn't cry. Nope, not going to wail like a baby, Sam.

"Just follow my lead." Jack led her into a waltz while the couples occupying the floor, stepped aside and gave them center stage.

"Oh, Jack." Sam felt her cheeks heat as he drew her close. The reality of what was happening made her stutter, "Th-is is im-pos-sible."

"Oh, ye of little faith. Nothing's impossible, my blue velvet angel." Jack smiled down at her and holding her trembling hand against his chest.

Sam began to weep softly and Jack could feel the tension in his wife's limbs melt away. He normally hated when she cried, but tonight he'd make an exception. Besides it was his fault she was leaking all over his tux. He handed her a white handkerchief and she blew, then shoved the wet, soiled clothe back into his hand. He thought to ditch it, but figured she'd still need it and shoved the hanky into his jacket pocket.

"Better?"

"Ah huh." She sniffed. "How do I top this for a Christmas present?"

"Why, what'd you get me?" He tipped her chin upward and looked at her.

"I'm not going to tell."

"How about a hint?"

"Something you beg for every year."

"I beg for, huh?"

"Yep."

"The Simpson's Special Edition DVD with behind the scenes clips."

"Well that wasn't hard."

"Great! I've been wanting that forever."

"Sorry, that's not what I got you."

"Carter?"

"Sir?" She giggled.

"You're evil."

"I try, sir."

Jack smiled into her hair. His Colonel fit perfectly into his possessive hold and he made sure that certain body parts came in contact. Sam started to hum. He loved when she hummed. Coz now he knew it was him who made her hum. Hum worthy indeed! When his firmness meshed with her soft tummy. Sam's fingers dug into his shoulder blades and his felt her heart thump against his own.

"A bit bold aren't we, sir?" She glanced up at his calm veneer.

"Chill, Carter. It's Christmas Eve. We're on downtime through the tenth and we are legally married. Asgard married husband and wife. Tauri husband and wife, etc, etc."

"Yeah, Jack, about the Asgard wedding ceremony on P2C-106."

"That was a real minister, right?"

"Yes, the Asgard was real."

"No, I meant the minister who married us at Grace Land Chapel in Las Vegas?"

"Oh, yes, he was also legit."

"Cool." He got bolder and kissed her forehead, cheeks, and then nuzzled the soft curve of her neck solely reserved for him. "Have I told ya lately that I love you, Samantha Jean Carter?"

"Yep. But you've got years to make up for, so keep talking, flyboy." She sighed at his intimate touch and words.

"Yeah sure yabetcha." He murmured against her warm skin.

"Man, oh, man, I love you, Jack O'Neill. And I don't want us to ever spend Christmas apart."

"We won't, Sam. Besides, my Irish grandma once said, no one should be alone on Christmas."

"No they shouldn't."

"And even though we may pick the path we walk, we never walk it alone, Sam. God is with us and carries us much of the way."

She smiled up and nodded. "Anyone ever tell you, that you are very spiritually deep for an ornery, old, Major General, General?"

"Yep, about twenty-five years ago when I was an ornery young Major, Colonel." He chuckled.

Sam laughed softly against him. Jack nuzzled her neck and kissed her, wishing he could do more, but knowing exactly what he do later on tonight. Sweet! Sam nestled her blonde head on his chest and they danced in silence until the next song began. She stared up at him with liquid blue pools of intimate understanding. After all these years, they'd never talked about that Christmas Eve so long ago.

"She wore blue velvet, Bluer than velvet was the night, Softer than satin was the light from the stars. She wore blue velvet, bluer than velvet were her eyes, warmer than May her tender sighs,
love was ours. Ours a love I held tightly . . ."

Ten years ago when Major Samantha Carter had challenged him to arm-wrestle, Jack had realized she'd not forgotten a lonely flyboy in Germany. Neither had he forgotten a lonely teenager. Jack now winked down at the only woman, who besides Sara he'd ever fought to live for.

"Feeling the rapture grow, like a flame burning brightly. But when she left, gone was the glow of Blue velvet, but in my heart there'll always be Precious and warm, a memory through the years. And I still can see blue velvet through my tears."

He cleared his throat and said for Sam's ears alone, "Twenty-five years ago tonight in a land far, far away, there was a lonely Air Force pilot named Jack."

"Sir Jack." Sam sighed against his jaw and caused him to shiver. "We're in that land far, far away."

"Yeah, guess we are." He trembled as tears stung his eyelids. "Anyhow, this emotionally repressed Sir Jack guy asked God to send him an angel in a blue velvet dress to keep him company."

"He did?" Sam gawked.

"Yeah sure yabetcha." Jack nodded seriously. "It's that faith thingy, I've got."

"Ah." She nodded. "So did He send you one?"

"Yep. Not what I expected. The angel was female."

"Excuse me?" Sam glanced up. "Does God discriminate against female angels?"

He chuckled. "Nope. Angels are asexual."

"Weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it. But Daniel said they are, asexual, so I believe him." Jack arched a brow. "Anyhow, not a wing or trumpet in sight. But she had a halo of blonde hair that left me breathless. This angel was a long-legged, blonde teenager with braces and attitude."

"Real heart stopper, huh?" Sam snorted mocking herself.

"You have no idea," he said lustfully. "If I'd been twelve years younger . . ."

"Yes?" She winked as he glided her across the floor.

"We'd be home surrounded by rug rats and never have heard the dirty word, Goa'uld."

"Hum, Sir Jack, honey?"

"What?"

"You'd have been seventeen and not in the Air Force."

"Oh. Right. Dang."

"Well, we can dream." She kissed his blue shadowed jaw.

"Yeah." His hands caressed her hips and urged her closer. "And I did of a lot of dreaming about us."

"And I never forgot, Sir Jack." Sam gripped him closer.

Jack's heart quickened. "Nor did I, Samantha Jean." He lifted his head and glanced at her. "And though I didn't have romantic thoughts about that brilliant kid, the day you walked into the briefing room, I saw a tall, skinny blonde with braces, all grownup and then I knew . . ."

"What?"

A tear escaped Sam's eyes and Jack captured it with his fingertips and pressed them to his lips, relishing the salty taste of her tears.

"Why I never gave this to anyone else." He reached into his back pocket and retrieved a black velvet pouch and handed it over to her. Tonight, on this most, holiest of nights, Jack knew this was meant to be.

"Merry Christmas, Samantha Jean."

Sniffing back tears, Sam opened the pouch. When her gaze took in the necklace her mouthed opened then closed. "I thought, assumed . . .Sara—" She stared up into his smug gaze.

"Samantha, Sara never saw or knew about this or our meeting that night. I'm not sure why, but a small voice told me to keep my word and keep it for the future. So I did." He took the necklace from her and then slipped it around her neck and secured the clasp.

When their fingers touched, Sam held on and her voice clogged with emotion. "Man, oh, man! You may not know it but you've just repeated a Carter tradition."

"How's that?" He cradled her heart shaped face and gazed at her with his heart open wide.

"My grandfather was Air Force and gave this necklace to my grandmother and then my dad gave it to mom on Christmas Eve. When she died, he'd said, I was his only girl and gave it to me and then I gave it to you."

"Geez, Carter!" Jack swallowed. "Glad Dad didn't know."

Sam choked and blushed.

"What?" he whined out.

"Dad knew."

"Ya gotta be kidding?" Jack stopped dancing, stood back and dragged his hand through his hair.

"No. I told him the clasp must have broken and I'd lost it in the snow."

"So why would he know about us back then?"

"Hey, Dad didn't become a General for lack of cunning. He'd been watching us that night, but didn't recognize you or get close enough to read your ID. He questioned me, but I never said your name. Apparently he realized I'd gotten hung up on you."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah, so he kept watch. The day you two first met at the White House function, he'd figured it out and did a background check on you. He'd kept his mouth shut until after he blended with Selmak."

"Argh! Why don't I like the sound of this?" He scrunched his face and peered down at her evil grin. When Sam smiled at him the world stopped for Jack, but when she donned that devious look he usually got a gut ache.

"Because Selmak told me that Dad saw the sparks between us when I was a teen and then when he found out I was under your command he saw it stronger than ever, especially from you. He'd decided he was going to be a pain in your rear-end until he knew for sure you loved me enough to respect me, keep the regs and if not, retire and make an honest woman out of me."

"You mean all those years I suffered at his expense because he was testing me?"

"Yep." She giggled.

"Peachy." Jack sulked and stalked back toward their table.

"Jack?" Sam latched onto his wrist. "Dad told me he liked and trusted you watching my six the first time he met you. But he kept up the charade because we had to. If he'd let on that he knew how we felt about each other, it would have complicated matters. We had to come to terms with each other in our own time, when we were ready."

"You took a huge risk giving this to me, Sam." Jack fingered the necklace at her throat. "I mean what if we'd never, I mean—" He shut his eyes and sniffed a breath.

"I didn't take a chance. You were my safe bet. Someone, maybe God told me. See I faked your palm reading. It was as if someone whispered those things about you in my ear."

"An angel," Jack suggested.

"At this point I'm about to believe anything."

"I believe in you, Sam, always have."

"I obeyed your command, Sir Jack." She smiled. "Although I stumbled and fell a lot, I never settled for being with someone who didn't treat me as his equal or wasn't intimidated by my brains. How could I, when I'd already met my safe bet?"

"And yet you still have doubts about God's existence?"

"Let's say I'm becoming a believer, General O'Neill. The only thing that could make that a 'Yeah sure yabetcha,' would be if the President himself called to say you were officially a civilian before midnight. But then, that's not going to happen because you don't plan to retire for three more years."

"I did say that didn't I?"

"Yes, just last week."

"Okay." Jack chuckled. "Let's make a pact."

"As in?" She took a cautious step back.

"If I officially retire tonight . . . you come with me to the midnight Christmas service at the base chapel." He winked.

"Deal." She snorted, covering his hand that touched her necklace.

"Sweet." He locked her arm with his and they strolled toward the table he'd ordered for them. Jack held out a chair and Sam sat down. "I'm starved."

"Me too. After this we can go back to our quarters and um, arm-wrestle." He winked.

"I can't wait, Sir Jack." Sam said loud enough to attract attention.

Jack opened his mouth to protest her use of the childish address but the silly grin on her beautiful fair face shut him up. As they ate, they only had eyes for each other. Others noticed. While they finished with coffee and cake, several young officers not knowing Sam and Jack were married approached individually and asked Sam to dance. She politely turned each one down but was getting tired of the ongoing game. Another young buck had Sam in his sights.

"I'm beginning to think there's gambling pool going on, Jack."

"Yeah, it's become a pain in the assets." When another officer walked toward her Jack acted.

"Jack?" Sam feared he was about to knock the approaching Major's lights out.

"Chill, Carter." He winked then addressed the incoming officer. "Major Evans."

"General O'Neill, I see you've found a companion for tonight?"

"Yes, I have, Major, and I suggest you restrain the dirty thoughts you've got in mind for her."

"Um, sir?" The man glanced nervously at Sam then stopped his advance. Jack smirked as he sauntered up to the stage and borrowed the microphone, tapped it until it squealed, then announced in his causal but affective CO voice.

"Hey, folks, sorry to disturb your evening. But this'll only take a moment. I know all us officers look like stuffed penguins, so it's hard to know who's who."

Laughter broke out.

"Well, I'm General Jack O'Neill um, with two lls. And like many of you, fine folks, I got stranded here for Christmas, not that I'm complaining." He winked at Sam. "Anyhow, I want to explain that the beautiful and stunning blue-eyed blonde in the shimmering, blue, velvet evening gown happens to be this ornery, old General's bride, Colonel Samantha Carter-O'Neill."

Gasps of surprise followed. Sam noticed Major Evans was shaking.

"So unless you're looking for a black eye, I'd strongly suggest you stop hitting on my wife. Coz, she's got one mean right hook, and man, can she bite!" He shook the left hand she'd bitten years ago. "Oh, and I hope you all have a very merry Christmas!"

Jack's humorous announcement brought a round of applause and more laughter. Sam could only blush and smile as he swaggered back to the table like a proud peacock or was that penguin. He managed to shake hands and exchange pleasantries with a few people along the way. Oh, and Major Evans was nowhere to be seen.

"Um, a little overkill on the colorful adjectives, sir." Sam teased.

"Never too many for you, Colonel." He smirked. "Now, Mrs. O'Neill, one last dance before we blow this gin joint."

"I'd love to, Mr. O'Neill." He'd no sooner escorted her toward the dance floor than his cell rang. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Jack?" She indicated the ringing phone.

"Oh, yeah." Nervous, he flipped open the cellular and brought it to his ear. "O'Neill here. Oh! Yes, Mister President." Jack cleared his throat and glanced at Sam's wide blue eyes and lowered his voice. "Certainly, sir. Of course, December 25th will be fine. Thank you, sir. And you have a blessed Christmas too. Yes, I—we will. Goodnight, sir." He snapped the phone shut and back onto his belt, then lead Sam toward the coat check.

Sam stared at him.

"What?"

"That was the President?"

"Yep, the one and only. I'm glad he got re-elected a second term."

"Is calling you on Christmas Eve?"

Jack nodded and paid the woman behind the counter. "Hey, we're pals."

"Colonel O'Neill!" She hissed.

Ouch! He hated when she demoted him. Still, he kept his blank expression and let out a long sigh of annoyance as they stepped outside. It'd stopped snowing for the moment. A black limousine pulled up and a young Airman jumped out and opened the back door for them.

"General O'Neill." The man saluted. "Colonel Carter." He held his salute.

Jack and Sam returned the salute. "At ease, son, it's Christmas," Jack ordered nicely. "To the Chapel please."

"Jack?" Sam yanked his arm as he clambered in after her. The driver shut their door then climbed in the driver seat and drove them toward the chapel across base.

"Sam?" he did his infamous face-scrunch that included the eyebrow-dance across his tanned forehead as he pressed the button that raised the privacy glass between them and the driver.

"You did say you'd go to church if I retired by midnight."

"Holy Hannah!" Sam's hand flew to her open mouth.

"Miss those braces." He chuckled, grabbed her other hand and pulled her into his arms. It didn't take her long to grin from ear to ear.

"You're retired?"

"Well, not officially. I've got about fifteen more minutes, come zero hour."

"Oh, Jack!" She started to cry.

"Hey, I thought you'd be happy." He maneuvered his long legs and leaned forward to gaze into her dripping eyes. "Let's be honest, Sam. I hate this politically correct bull crap. Nodding off in bored-out-of-my-skull meetings. Wanting to blow away over half of the Ways and Means Committee on a daily basis. Not to mention the ten pounds I gained sitting on my butt. My hemorrhoids are killing me."

"Jack, I know you've been miserable since you left the SGC." She sniffed.

"That's putting it mildly, Sam. I'm a field officer and always will be."

"But what are you going to do to keep busy?"

"All arranged. I'm going to be part time consultant for the SGC and train the Academy elite candidates for the SG teams. That'll kill about twenty-plus hours a week. I plan to enjoy being an old married man while I can, Sam. This way I'll be home, underfoot, in your way, at your beck and call. Bring your slippers after you home from a hard mission and don't forget my famous beer soufflés and charcoal flavored steaks." He chuckled.

Sam cried harder and slugged his shoulder.

"Ow! Crap! This isn't the way I imagined. I suppose you're mad coz we didn't discuss this ahead of time, huh?"

She shook her head no.

"Well, what then?"

"It's perfect. Better than I ever hoped for."

"Really?" he rubbed his bruised shoulder. "You could have fooled me." He dug out his handkerchief and gave it over. Sam blew several times before her sobs subsided. Jack didn't rush her figuring soon or later she'd spill what was wrong. He hoped it wasn't serious. He knew Landry would have phoned him if something bad had happened. Then again, Sam had Hank wrapped around her pinky. Hum, why did that scenario seem so familiar?

The limo had pulled up to the chapel but they sat staring at each other while others hurried into the church. Sam sniffed and glanced at her watch. "Let's go in before it's too late."

"No. I want to know why you've become a babbling brook of late. It's not you, Sam."

"I'm happy that's all."

"Ah." He so didn't get it. Jack tapped on the window and the driver hurried out and opened the door for them.

"Don't be a stranger, son. Come on in if you want." Jack invited.

"Thank you. I liked that, General." The Airman hurried into the church.

A few feet from the chapel steps, Sam stopped Jack and smiled up at him. "Remember when you visited me in Atlantis two weeks ago?"

"Oh, yeah, do I ever." He winked suggestively.

"Well, the mission was a success, General."

"Huh?" Jack tried to wrap his head around her mission remark.

"Hey, are you on the nest, Carter?" He beamed.

"Only if you're the rooster, Sir Jack."

"Cock-a-doodle-o!" Jack roared with laughter drawing attention. "Hey, my wife and I are going to be a mother!" Jack announced to a young lieutenant walking up the steps with his wife and two kids.

"Congratulations, sir." The officer saluted. "Ma'am."

Sam giggled at Jack's misconstrued proclamation.

"What?"

"I love you." She swiped at her eyes.

Jack cradled her face in his hands and then kissed Samantha Jean Carter-O'Neill in public and beneath God's glorious Christmas sky. A good minute passed before they came up for air. The chapel steps were empty and organ music resonated in the wintry air.

"Grace!" Jack said swinging Sam up into his arms.

"What?" she asked against his chest.

"I want to name her Grace. And she's going to have long curly brown hair and big blue eyes just like her mother."

Sam's own eyes widened in astonishment.

"Now what?"

"Jack, um, it's too early to know whether this will be a boy or girl."

"It's a girl," he said adamantly.

"I know." She laughed, nodding.

"You do?"

"Yep. So when did you first see and talk to a brown-haired, blue-eyed girl in a white pinafore dress, who talks just like you?"

"Oy Vey!" He led her up the steps to church. It had begun to snow. "Sam, how many more miracles do you need to believe the Keeper of the Stars is in charge of this crazy mess we call life?"

As he opened the front door, Sam smiled up at her husband. "In all honesty, I haven't needed any proof since the first day I first meet you, Sir Jack. Then when I came under your command, you taught me to love and to trust, Jack, but most of all," she whispered as they stepped into God's house. "You taught me to have faith in what I can't see. And that's this holiest of nights is what life's really about."

As they took a rear pew the choir led the congregation in a Christmas carol. "It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious night of all, from angels bending near the Earth to touch their harps of gold: Peace on Earth, good will to men from Heaven's all glorious King . . ."

Holding hands, Sam's blonde head resting on his shoulder Jack sang along. A few benches ahead, a girl with brown hair turned and smiled at Jack. His heart stopped as he recognized those bright blue eyes. Grace! Jack was about to prod Sam when the girl transformed into a freckled-faced redheaded boy. Jack closed his eyes then opened them. The boy was still there only he'd turned to sit on his mother's lap. Not Grace. His heart sank and then he recalled everything Grace had said to him twenty-five-years ago. His epiphany was heart changing.

It'd never been Sam's faith that needed restoration. It'd been Jack's. And God had sent a blue velvet angel to help Jack through the most difficult times of his life. He glanced at his angel who was singing her heart out. Sweet. Not! He wiggled a finger in his offended ear. Neither of them could carry a note. He hoped Grace wouldn't be tone death too. Drawing Sam close, Jack's free hand dipped to her belly. Sam's warm hand covered his and she smiled up at him, tears of happiness brimming her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Sir Jack."

He smiled back and his gaze rested on the silver-star pendant centered over Sam's heart—his heart. He never was good with words and per usual they failed him now.

"Always, Samantha Jean, always." Jack then whispered in his head. "Merry, Christmas, Grace O'Neill. See ya soon."

"Yeah sure yabetcha, Daddy," resounded in his thoughts.

Holding the woman he loved and singing from his heart, Jack O'Neill was finally home for Christmas and this time it was not a dream.

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Have a blessed Christmas, Campers!