AN: Thanks for the reviews. Keep them coming! They're keeping me motivated. Hopefully, this will be finished by the end of the week!

Part Three: The Ghost of Christmas Present

He couldn't say for sure what it was that woke him, and he didn't want to risk opening his eyes to find out, but he was sure something was horribly wrong. He kept his eyes closed as a deep, strangled sound assaulted his ears. It almost sounded like someone had set the wrong speed on the record player. And it also sounded kind of like his name.

Glutton for punishment that he was, Jack peeked. Two milliseconds later, he screamed a terribly loud, high pitched, almost girlish scream. Right before him stood Henry Boyd. Sort of. Well, as best as one could stand while being slowly torn to shreds. Jack actually whimpered, taking in the sight that Carter had actually wanted to see. It would have fascinated her. It scared the bejesus out of him and made him want his mommy. He squeezed his eyes closed again and tried to rationalize it. Surely Hank was long dead. Surely he'd been sucked into that black hole forever ago. It had been years, after all. Even if time was going slower there. Besides, if the guy wasn't dead yet, he couldn't be there haunting him.

Jack dared to open his eyes again. "Knock it off."

Hank sighed and pulled himself together, literally. "Sorry, Jack. The parlor tricks are so much fun. They're a big hit at Halloween."

Jack looked at the man before him, no longer horrified. This man had been a friend. Now it was just sad to see him, a man who'd lost everything in the prime of his life. "You are dead, right?" He didn't want to think his friend was still being slowly shredded.

"Yeah, I'm a goner." He waved a slightly transparent hand in front of his face and shrugged. "Obviously. Took a while, though. That wasn't so much fun. I'm sure there's still parts of me being ripped open, but I'm definitely not feeling it anymore." He cocked his head to the side. "The gravitational field extended in advance of the-"

"Oh for crying out loud! You too?" Jack shook his head unhappily. "Do you have to go to PhD school and learn to talk like Carter before they let you haunt people?"

Hank grinned. "You'll like being dead, Jack. There's an innate understanding of the universe that comes with it."

"You mean like the way Carter feels everyday?" The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. "Cool, so when I'm dead I'll actually be able to have an intelligent conversation with her." Hank only smiled patiently. "So what do you want?"

Hank sat down on the edge of Jack's bed. "Well, gee, a chance to say goodbye to my wife would be nice."

Jack's shoulders sagged. "Look, I'm sorry." He knew nothing would relieve the guilt he felt for recommending his friend for a fatal mission. "You know I would have gone after you."

Hank held up his hand. "Nothing you could do about it. It's water under the bridge." He stood up and inclined his head toward the hallway. "Let's move out. I've got things for you to see."

Jack sighed and slowly moved to follow Hank's lead. "Can't be as bad as watching Sara and Carter spend their Christmases crying, right?"

Hank was conspicuously silent as he led Jack down an unfamiliar hall. Soft music played on the stereo. A brightly decorated tree stood in the corner. The scent of cinnamon filled the air. Another room Jack had never seen. He looked around until his eyes fell on the framed photos on the mantel. Charlie. Sara and Charlie. Sara and some guy. It had to be Sara's new place. He'd heard she was moving a few years earlier after her father's death, but he'd never gone to visit. He'd been off-world when his ex-father-in-law had died and he'd been in the infirmary unconscious on the day of the funeral and after that it just never seemed like it was the right time to pop back into her life. He figured it was probably better that way anyhow. Whenever they saw each other, it only served to remind them of what they'd lost.

He moved closer to the pictures to inspect them, realizing there were actually several pictures of that strange man. He glanced at Hank. "Must be important, huh?"

Hank said nothing, but Jack's suspicions were confirmed when a soft sigh came from the couch behind him. He turned and took in the scene, trying to stay detached from it. Sara was seated on the couch. Her hair had grown out a little since the last time he'd seen her, but it didn't appear that she'd aged a day. Her mouth was hanging open in a sort of happy shock - probably due to the small velvet box being held open before her by the man from the pictures who was perched on bended knee in a way that Jack hadn't ever been free of injury long enough to try.

Jack felt fresh tears prick his eyes as the man slid the ring onto Sara's finger. He turned to Hank. "Well, good for her. I always wanted her to be happy. She deserved better than me."

Again Hank said nothing. Frustrated, Jack turned away, looking back at his ex-wife, who was fervently kissing her new fiancé. He tried to smile, tried to convince himself that he was truly happy that she'd finally moved on. Jack had always thought he'd be betraying the memory of their family if he ever thought about moving on, but he hadn't expected Sara to feel the same way. He felt a sob building in the back of his throat as he turned away, unexpectedly crushed by the fact that Sara had really gotten past him.

He turned back to Hank. "Yeah, so, this was fun. Thanks." He surreptitiously tried to wipe at his tears, although why he was embarrassed to be crying in front of a ghost he was dreaming up left him at a loss. "So, back to bed. It's a wonder I don't do this sort of thing more often."

Jack didn't wait for Hank to lead him; he headed for the hallway, firmly intending to come to his bedroom. Hank snagged his arm to stop him. "Not so fast, buddy. I'm afraid there's more."

Jack stood before his friend a broken, hurt man. "I've had about as much Christmas as I can take in one night. Can't it wait until next year?"

Hank shrugged. "But then it wouldn't be Christmas present, would it?"

"Can I exchange it for something else? This sucks."

Hank smiled patiently, unsure of whether Jack had missed the point on purpose. "Ready to go?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"What do you think?"

Jack growled something about shrinks and counseling under his breath, imagining that it couldn't possibly be good that his own delusion was trying to psychoanalyze him. "Where to next? Hey, I've got an idea, let's find some poor kids who are starving to death or maybe some woman who's being beaten by her husband. That would be lots of fun. Or maybe-"

Jack's tirade came to a halt when he noticed he was standing in the hallway of the SGC. The vise returned to his chest, cutting off air. He didn't even think of her before the pain kicked in. "Oh, Hank, come on. Please no. Don't do this to me."

"Merry Christmas, Sam. I'll see you next week." Daniel's voice came from the doorway to Carter's lab. Jack watched as his friend offered one last wave before he headed toward the elevator, humming a jaunty tune.

"You too. Drive safe!" Carter leaned through the doorway, smiling brightly as she watched Daniel disappear down the corridor.

"Oh, Sam." Free of his usual inhibitions when he was around her, Jack stepped up close, closer than he ever dared in real life, and smiled at her. It seemed like forever since he'd talked to her; even longer since he'd seen her. "God, you're beautiful."

He watched her smile fade into a frown as she turned back to her work. She closed the door forcefully before she dropped heavily into her seat. This was a Carter Jack had never witnessed and he watched, curious, as Carter listlessly shifted some papers around on her desk. Usually, even when she was exhausted or sick, she did everything so energetically that it made everyone around her think she was battery powered.

"Is she sick?" He glanced at Hank for a moment, not wanting to take his eyes of Carter for long. "What's wrong with her?"

Her shuffling of papers, which seemed to have no real purpose to Jack, paused. Her attention was drawn to a piece of newspaper and she lifted it up to get a better look at it. Jack glanced at it over her shoulder. He recognized it immediately. It was an article he'd read several months earlier - something about a new comet - that he'd sent along with some papers for Daniel. The sticky note he'd put on it was still attached; his sloppy scrawl asking Daniel to pass it along to Carter. He watched as she ran her fingers over the words he'd jotted down hastily. He thought better of it now, once he saw the way she stared at his writing, wishing he'd taken a moment to actually address the note to her. It probably would have meant a lot to her.

She turned quickly then, flicking her mouse to switch off her screensaver, and opening up an email. He watched as she typed in his address before she stopped again; her sudden burst of energy already spent. He walked around to get a better look at her, ignoring the computer screen she was staring blankly at.

He watched as she shook her head, annoyance flickering across her face. "Yeah, right." She sighed and turned off her monitor. "Hey, Jack, how are you? Remember me? You seem to have forgotten about me entirely. Hope you're well. Merry Christmas. Oh, by the way, I miss you so much it hurts." She folded her arms over the piles on her desk and dropped her face forward, sobbing to herself.

Jack turned back to Hank in shock. "This can't be right, Hank. You're making this up, right? Showing me what I want to see?"

Hank angled his head toward Carter. "This is what you want to see?"

Turning back, Jack realized time had gone by. He had no particular reason for it, but he was sure it had been hours. Carter was no longer seated at her desk. She was on the floor, leaning against the wall, her face gazing longingly at a framed photograph in her hands. It was an old photo, the old SG-1, far enough back in their history that no one had thought it inappropriate how Jack's arm rested around Carter's shoulders. Her head was tilted towards his chest, a wide smile on her face. Carter's finger carefully traced over them before she turned her face heavenward, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, mom, I miss him so bad." Her voice was only a sad whisper.

A knock at the door a moment later just about made Jack jump out of his skin. General Landry's voice could be heard through the thick metal. "I'm sure you're working on something important, Colonel, I just wanted to say good night."

Carter's cheerful voice belied the tears still wet on her face. "Merry Christmas, General!"

"Don't work too hard. O'Neill will have my ass if you get hurt."

She waited a beat before she returned to her study of the picture. "Doubt it."

Jack faced Hank once again. "Stop this. This isn't right. She's not like this. She's not insecure and weak and frail. She tough and strong and independent as all hell. This isn't real!"

Hank shrugged. "Looks real to me."

He advanced on his friend in anger. "There's no way that brilliant woman is curled up on her floor crying over me. Not a chance in hell. You make this stop right now!"

"I'll bet General Landry would say the same thing about her at this moment."

It felt like an ice cold fist grabbed hold of his insides then and squeezed. How many times had she fooled him? How many times had he been on the other side of that door? How many times had he believed she was fine when she was really anything but? His chest hurt. He didn't know for sure, but he was pretty sure that was what a heart attack felt like - searing, hot pain that shot out in every direction from his heart.

"Hank, let me go. I have to get out of here. I can't see her like this. I have to call her."

A sorrowful look crossed over Hank's face, much like the one that would be forever frozen in Jack's memory - Hank's face as he stared at the black hole he knew would be the death of him. "I would, buddy, but it's not my call."

"What?" Jack looked back at Carter, who had finally risen from the floor and was slowly packing her bags up for the night. "Hank, come on, I learned my lesson. I swear. Just get me home so I can call her before she leaves." He glanced at her again, his heart skipping a beat at the dejected look in her eyes. "I'm scared of what's going to happen to her, Hank. She so upset. She's hurting and I can make it better. Please."

And just like that, he was back in his bedroom. His heart was pounding in his chest; the covers knotted around his feet. For the slightest millisecond, his rational mind told him that it was only a nightmare, that Carter would not be happy to get a call from him at that hour. But he'd never paid his rational side much attention and he wasn't about to start. He reached for the phone on the bedside table. It was maybe a foot away, but it seemed impossibly far.

The air in the room changed suddenly, turning so terribly cold that it hurt to breathe it in. He saw the way his arm trembled before he even felt it as he turned toward the utterly dark hallway and the presence he knew was there.

"Oh, God, no." He looked into the darkness, true fear finally taking hold of him.