Sorry to have kept you all waiting; it's a busy time of the year and right now I'm not sure if I'm the right way up or not! LOL! However, not to keep you all in too much suspense, here's the next chapter, and I'll try to get the following chapter up real soon. Can't promise it tomorrow - got a hospital appointment and that takes all day usually, as we have to travel there and back too. By the time I get home again, I'm usually shattered. So, perhaps on Thursday...

Thanks as always for you wonderful reviews, they keep me from drowning, so please, keep them coming!

Christmas Spirit.

By Lingren.

Previously:-

His world lurched and spun away from him as he quickly slumped forward where darkness threatened his consciousness; and then he knew no more.

Chapter 4 – Bad News

"But, he promised," Max whined as he turned back to his mother. He'd been keeping one eye glued to the street outside the window; waiting for Jack to return.

"I know he did honey, but don't forget, the General must be a very busy man. I expect he got called away for some emergency or some other reason so he couldn't make it back today," she said, trying not to sound too concerned because her guest hadn't shown up at all. Max was a bright boy and would have immediately picked up the hollow note in her voice if she'd allowed her very real worry, about why Jack had failed to arrive, to show.

"I guess," Max replied miserably, though he was not totally convinced by her argument.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, especially today, but it's been over two hours now," Patrick whispered in Chrissie's ear, not wishing to add to Max's anguish. "If he was gonna come, I think he would have been here by now. And I think that the fact that he hasn't phoned either, is probably testament that he never really intended to come back at all. We'll just have to face it Chrissie, the poor guy probably accepted your invitation just so you wouldn't nag him to death about come..."

"Patrick O'Brien, how dare you!" she retorted hotly, placing her hands onto her hips and scowling at her husband." I so did not nag the poor man. He seemed to be genuinely interested in joinin' us this day. I think it's time yous should both go wash up, dinner's more than ready. Max! Come on me darlin', it's time t' eat."

"But Mom...can't it wait until he gets here?"

"I'm sorry Max," And she really was. "but I don't think he's gonna show."

"Aw gee. Why not?"

"I don't know, son. Maybe he felt too uncomfortable. I can't say. Come on, let's eat," Chrissie urged, trying to take the boy's mind off his obvious disappointment.

The fourth place at the neatly laid out table, lay empty, and Chrissie couldn't help but feel a little frustrated at the way that Jack hadn't even bothered to call and let her know he couldn't make it. If he really didn't want to join them, he only had to say he didn't want to come. After all, it wasn't like she was going to bite him if he'd refused.

What should have been a celebratory meal, progressed in a tense silence with Patrick and Chrissie exchanging looks of concern, watching their son struggling to come to terms with his disillusionment of one General Jack O'Neill.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Can I help you sir?" the mature nurse sitting behind the desk asked when the military officer approached the nurses' station.

"Yeah, I hope you can. I'm Colonel Dixon, USAF. I got a call from someone here to say that General O'Neill had been brought in, and that it was an emergency."

Jenny Spinks flicked through the file and found the relevant information. She looked up at the younger man, noting that his face was strained.

"Do you have any ID?" she asked tiredly, not very happy to be working on Christmas Day, but unable to avoid it.

"Ah yeah," Dave Dixon drew out his U.S.A.F. ID and flashed it in front of her face.

"Has the General any relatives living nearby?"

"Nope," Dixon sighed, at least not official ones. "He's married to the Air Force."

Jenny grinned, and received a similar response.

"So, what happened to the General?" he asked, wondering what was wrong with Jack that warranted pulling him from the base to the hospital. If the General had crashed his truck, then maybe he needed a lift home or something?

"You don't know?" Jenny asked in disbelief. It wasn't everyday they had a brass hat needing urgent treatment, under their roof; let alone getting shot at.

"No. The cops just said that General O'Neill was involved in an incident, and that he was here. He's my CO."

"Oh. Well, perhaps I'd better get the Doctor to fill you in on all the details." She pressed a button on the telephone and paged Dr. Warren.

A few moments later, Dixon turned when his attention was taken by a harried looking young intern, who had approached the desk.

"Ah, Dr. Warren. This officer would like to know what happened to General O'Neill," Jenny informed him. "The General is his CO. According to their records, the patient has no immediate family."

The doctor turned to looked at Dixon, before nodding his acknowledgement.

"If you'd like to come this way sir, I'll fill you in on the details of the General's condition."

He led Dave to a quiet room off the busy corridor and persuaded him to sit down.

"Can you tell me your name and what capacity you are here for?"

Dave pulled out his wallet again and showed the Doctor, his USAF ID to prove who he was, then with a huge and slightly unsteady breath, asked the burning question uppermost in his mind.

"So, what's goin' on Doc?"

"General O'Neill was admitted late this morning with a gunshot wound to his chest. He's undergoing surgery to remove the bullet, as we speak," he paused to let Dave take in the information, taking his time as the Air Force officer's face paled at the news.

"What? How the hell...?"

"Apparently, so they say, it was just a random, motiveless shooting. An eye witness said he saw the General out jogging when a car pulled up and the young occupants started shouting abuse at him, then just as they started to pull away, they shot him and took off at speed."

Dave could hardly believe his ears. The one question that kept coming back at him, was; why? Why Jack? What had he done to deserve this?

"Is he okay?"

"I can't tell you that until they've finished in the OR, if then. We may not know for the first 24 hours. That's the crucial point. If he survives up to that time then there's a good chance that he should be okay."

Dixon was still reeling from the shock, and merely nodded in receipt of the information. Jack had to survive; he was a fighter. They'd just gotten used to him being in command of the SGC.

"Are you okay?" Dr. Warren asked, concerned when the man remained silent and seemed lost in his thoughts. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No. No...it's okay, thank you. It's just come a bit of a shock that's all. Look, I really have to call someone higher up the chain of command, is there a phone round here I could use?"

"Sure, there's one down the hall."

"Thanks. You'll keep me informed, won't you?"

"You'll be staying?"

"Yeah. For now, at any rate."

"Then I'll make sure you're kept up to date with the latest news."

"Thanks Doc. For everything."

Doctor Warren nodded, then made his way back to the desk and informed the nurses that Colonel Dixon would be staying for a while, and needed to be notified of the General's progress.

Dave Dixon picked up the telephone and dialled the number listed on his emergency contact card. It rang several times before being picked up.

"Hammond!" the voice snapped, sounding a little disgruntled at being disturbed on Christmas Day, especially since it was the time when most people were sitting down to their Christmas Dinner.

"General Hammond, sir...it's Colonel Dixon. I'm afraid I have some bad news, sir."

Hammond steadied himself, waiting for the blow, and wondering what could have happened at the SGC today of all days? Talking of which, why wasn't Jack calling him, instead of Dixon? He took a deep breath to quieten his thoughts before he spoke.

"What's going on, son?"

"It's General O'Neill, sir. I'm over at the hospital. Apparently he's been shot."

Rather abruptly, Hammond sat down on the chair behind him, and rubbed a hand over his shiny pate, wondering what the hell Jack had gotten himself into now. With another calming breath, he wanted to know how in the hell, Jack had managed getting himself into trouble this time?

"Tell me what happened, Colonel!"

"From what I gather, sir. The General was out jogging this morning when some kids drove up yelling abuse at him, and then they just shot him and drove off. He's still in surgery right now sir. I won't know anything more until after they've finished putting him back together again."

"I presume that SG-1 are still...'out of the country'?"

"Yes sir, though they're due back later tonight."

General Hammond looked round at the dining table which groaned under the weight of the Christmas dinner his daughter had cooked, and sighed with disappointment. Not that it was Jack's fault, by the sound of things.

"I'll be right there, son."

"Yes sir."

George felt a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. His daughter knew how things were after living with the military way of life for so long. He reached up to hold her hand while turning to see his grand-daughters sitting down ready to eat and watching him with concern in their eyes.

"What's the matter Dad," she asked, causing him to look up at his daughter.

"It's Jack, honey. He's been shot. I really have to go and see what can be done. I'm sorry," he apologised, feeling awful for ruining their Christmas, yet again. There had been so many missed Christmases with his family, but he was still serving his country and that had to come first. And because it was Jack O'Neill too, because not only was he a good friend, he was also alone. His friends; his team; his family, were off-world still, and so he needed to be there for him.

"Oh God! Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know that yet, he's still in surgery."

Rising stiffly from his chair, he made a big fuss of the girls before he left them to eat; all the while hoping that he would, at least, be back in time to tuck them into bed.

"I don't know what time I'll be back," he sighed. It really all depended on how badly Jack was injured. He refused to think the worst because he couldn't imagine what life would be like without a certain General Jack O'Neill, in it.

"Okay Dad. You take care, now. I hope Jack will be alright!"

He nodded, too anxious to say anything more. He gave his daughter a quick peck on the cheek and then hurried from the house, eager, yet, wary of reaching the hospital, in order to find out how things were for himself.

TBC