"Carter. Hey, Carter."
She'd been sleeping through it all – the wind howling through the trees, rattling their branches and sending leaves careening down around them. She'd even slept through the chattering of her own teeth, but his voice cut right through. She woke to find herself hunkered far down in her sleeping bag, curled tightly against the chill, and she had to fight her way out. "Sir? What's happening?"
"Cold front, Carter." He yelled it over the wind as he shoved their things quickly into her pack. "And I'm thinkin' this is just the beginning."
A crack sounded in the canopy above them, sending them both hunching instinctively as a dead limb fell from a tree thirty meters away. They needed shelter. Badly. "The UAV scans showed mountains just to the west, sir," she called. "Maybe there's something more stable that direction."
"That's the plan." Tossing her the pack to resecure her sleeping bag, he quickly disassembled the fire, smothering the larger logs and kicking dirt through the embers. "Last thing we need's a wild fire, too," he muttered. "Let's go."
He led the way, and she was grateful for it, as even the wind whipping around him threatened to knock her from her feet. It was a precarious balance between leaning into the wind, watching where she was going, and protecting her face from the dry leaves that whipped past, stinging her cheeks and threatening her eyes. The flashes of nightmare they conjured were more than a little unwelcome.
With only the beams of their flashlights in the blackness, she couldn't see the small mountains, but she knew they were getting close. The wind was steadier, warmer – though it still left goosebumps up her arms – and worst of all, stronger. She stumbled once, and Colonel O'Neill took her arm solidly.
"Thanks!" she yelled, though it was lost in the howl.
The rock came up quickly after that, the sheer face looming high into the darkness. It was hardly windless, the eddies still swirling, but at least the weather had lost a bit of its bite as they plastered themselves against the cliff face, moving slowly, seeking anything they could use as shelter.
What they found wasn't large – twenty feet deep, maybe, and just tall enough for a fire – but it seemed sound enough. And it was blissfully quiet compared to the flying tree limbs outside. As quickly as possible, they gathered enough wood to last the night and set about making a fire.
"Temperature must've dropped forty degrees," the Colonel muttered. "Fer cryin' out loud, it's cold."
"And it's much warmer here, in the lee of the mountain," Sam said. When he glanced at her, she added, "It's all due to adiabatic cooling as the air sinks and-"
"Carter," he interrupted, already over the scientific babble, "it's the middle of the night."
The realization hit her like a rock to the gut, and she checked her watch. Twelve-thirty. "It's Christmas," she said softly.
"Yeah." He offered her a sad smile before reaching over to unclip the sleeping bag from her pack. Deftly unrolling it, he unzipped the side and climbed in. "Might as well sleep, since we can't exactly be out there."
She blinked at him, looking all comfortable in her sleeping bag. "Sir?"
"Temperature's still dropping, Carter," he said. "Who knows how cold it's gonna get? And I'd rather not become a Christmas icicle."
He was so matter-of-fact about it that she could hardly refuse without seeming unreasonable. Sure, there were certain... tensions... between them, but if he could handle it, so could she. Giving a nonchalant shrug, she slipped into the bag beside him and turned to face the fire.
To her surprise, he turned into her, his chest to her back, offering her an arm as a pillow and wrapping the other around her waist. "Warm enough?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." After a moment, he added, softer, "I'm sorry about Christmas, Carter."
She bit her cheek. "Do you think it's snowing in Colorado Springs? Cassie really wanted a white Christmas."
Jack hugged her a little tighter – it wasn't only Cassie who'd wanted things to be just right, he knew. "They were saying if the temperature dropped a degree or two that it would stick. I bet she'll wake up to an inch or two."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't mention it." Shifting a bit, he buried his nose in her neck – only, of course, because it was cold. Not because her shampoo still smelled good after two days or because she fit so perfectly up against him.
Maybe Carter's Christmas was ruined, but Jack couldn't help but feel his had turned out better than he'd planned.