Slats: Moments in Time
Snapshots from the Bridges universe
by Tassos

See Chapter 1 for story notes.
Thanks to Kei for the beta.


December 2005

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," said Xander. Bundled up against the cold, only his eye and ears were visible and no doubt directing hostile thoughts at Jack for putting them in this situation.

Jack grinned. "Like I could tell you to do anything," he replied. "Besides, what's not to love?"

"The snow, the outdoors, the lack of central heat?" said Xander.

"It's not Christmas without snow," Jack told him. He nodded out to the crusty pond and the evergreens sprinkled with white. The woods wrapped around them as if nothing else existed but them and the trees, a view Jack never tired of and that he was doubly glad he got to share it with his son this year. It was just the two of them up at the cabin for a few days before Xander had to get back to Cleveland. He had almost said no – they'd had Thanksgiving together and he had no one to cover him on the Hellmouth until Diana unexpectedly said she could handle everything for a few days with a promise to call at the first sign of trouble. Jack figured he owed her a pretty awesome Christmas present for that, even if Xander kept complaining about the cold. He cast another fond glance at Xander in his layers of coats and scarf and hat. "I don't know how you survived in Southern California."

"Hey! It snowed once!"

Jack raised an eyebrow, not believing it because where Xander grew up was practically a desert. They didn't even have seasons, for crying out loud.

"It did," Xander insisted. "A little bit. And was probably mystical in origin, but it still counts." The eye shifted and Jack could imagine Xander's expression of disgruntled insistence.

"You had mystical snow?" said Jack.

The lumps that were Xander's shoulders rose and fell. "Yeah. Hellmouth. You know how it goes."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him, but Xander didn't elaborate. Jack debated asking for a moment, wondering if this was one of those things that he didn't want to know about or one that Xander didn't want to talk about. Better not to know, he decided, as Xander paused to stare across the pond.

"I was camping that night, too," he said, voice soft.

"Out slaying something?" asked Jack since Xander had brought it up after all.

"No." He was quiet for a long drawn out breath, then two. The sky darkened as the sun slipped over the tree line, not quite set, but leaving them shrouded in dusk nevertheless. "My dad used to drink, you know. Tony." Xander didn't look at him but kept staring at the far shore, still as the frozen water. "It started after he got laid off when I was in seventh grade. He just . . . changed. He resented my mom cause she was still working, started yelling at her all the time, expected all the house work to be done, didn't help her. It didn't stop when he got another job. Mom just started drinking, too. It was worst around Christmas, so I would take a sleeping bag to the back yard to get out of the cross fire."

When he turned, Xander's face was completely in shadow. The lip of his jacket had slid down, no longer covering his chin and nose. "It was kind of a shock when it started snowing on me," he smiled, hiding behind the humor.

"I'm sorry," said Jack softly.

Xander shrugged again. "Wasn't you're fault. And it wasn't that bad." He started walking again and Jack joined him a half pace behind. Bad or not, it should never have happened. No kid should ever feel like the only escape from his parents was to sleep in the backyard on Christmas. Even if it wasn't Jack's fault he couldn't help but feel responsible for it anyway.

"Still. I should –"

"Jack," Xander interrupted, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "Dad." He smiled again and this time it reached his eyes. "Don't feel sorry for me. You'll screw up the tapestry of my life or something. I've seen it happen. It's not pretty."

"Yeah, okay," Jack nodded. He'd seen it happen too, and truth be told, things had worked out pretty damn well considering. Xander had turned into a hell of a man, and Jack couldn't have been prouder if he tried, his influence there or not.

"So! What are you getting me for Christmas?" Xander said so brightly that Jack rolled his eyes at the unsubtle change of subject. He couldn't help but return Xander's smile though.

"Who said I got you anything?"

Xander bumped his arm. "You love spoiling me," he said.

Jack chuckled because it was true even although Xander didn't give him much opportunity to do so.

"So?"

"What? Christmas isn't for another few days."

"Not even a hint?"

"No," said Jack. He was actually a little nervous about this year's present, nervous that Xander wouldn't accept it

"It's not a cat is it?" Xander gave him a suddenly wary glance. "Because whatever the girls said, they're lying."

"It's not a cat," Jack reassured him, thinking instead of the brochure and the appointment he'd made at the reputedly best optician in Cleveland. He'd been thinking about it for a while although he'd never gotten up the gumption to ask Xander about it. His eye was a touchy subject both for its obvious lack and for the time it represented. Jack understood about scars. He understood living with them everyday no matter how much you wanted to just get over it. He also understood the need to move forward.

He had a backup present for Xander. He'd waffled so much on this he'd gone ahead and bought the subscription to Woodworking Magazine and the gift certificate to lumber yard. But Xander had just told him to not feel sorry for him because of his crappy childhood. He understood about moving forward too, had for a long time, Jack suspected. Here they were, weren't they? The two of them learning how to be a family despite national secrets and a regular need to save the world.

"You finally got me a car!" Xander guessed again, into the game now and managing to look ten years younger and be just as annoying.

"Nope!" Jack replied, enjoying Xander's unguarded delight of not being responsible for anything but giving his old man a hard time. Jack loved seeing him like this. Loved him, this kid of his, grateful at the twists of life that had led him here. "Better than a car," he said.

"Better than a car?" Xander repeated. "Not much is better than a car."

"This is," said Jack confidently. Xander cocked his head, his teasing grin sliding into a genuine smile.

"This is," he nodded slightly toward the pond and the trees, and Jack had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in his throat. "Even if it is colder than vampire's tits out here."

Jack couldn't help it, he laughed, sudden and loud which made Xander laugh, echoing off the water and tapering off into the trees.

"I'm glad we came up here, Dad," said Xander after a minute when their chuckles had subsided. "It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you came," said Jack. He reached out and brushed back a strand of hair that had twisted into Xander blindside, sliding his hand to rest his son's shoulder. Xander's eye held his, intense and looking straight through Jack to where all the things that were raw and grateful peaked out. I wish I could have been there for you growing up, but I'm proud of the way you turned out. It was all he could do to not flinch away, to stand still and hope Xander saw what Jack wanted him to find. It lasted a split second that felt like a conversation before Xander shifted away and smiled. Jack gave Xander's shoulder a squeeze and let go, the silence between them warm and comfortable as they resumed their walk.

"You're still not going to tell me what you got me are you?" said Xander a few paces later.

Jack smiled, feeling absolutely at one with the world and the young man beside him. "No," he said. "You're just going to have to wait and see."