A/N: And so we come to the last chapter of this story! Many thanks to everyone who stayed with it throughout!

And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all!! I hope you are having a wonderful time with your nearest and dearest:)!

Daniel's Christmas Carol

7.

Ow. Ugh. Make it stop. My head is pounding and my mouth feels dry—this must be the worst afterlife ever. If I ever get my hands on that little Nox—

"Hello darling!"

Oh, no.

Vala's face comes into focus, and I see she's wearing a funny knit hat and a red woollen scarf with tassels.

"Ugh. Let me guess, you're the ghost of Christmas future."

She looks taken aback for a second, then gives me a confused frown.

"Huh? Daniel, it's me…Vala!" Placing a hand on her hip, she turns to look sideways. "What's wrong with him?"

I notice Jack's back. Actually, Sam and Teal'c and Mitchell are here, too. This suddenly became a party and no one told me.

"Take it easy Danny-boy," Jack winks at me. "So whaddaya remember?"

Please. Like he wasn't floating around in limbo watching all of it. I rub my face and squint against the bright light.

Huh. That's new.

"A chandelier…nice touch to the old naquadah mine."

An aspirin shelf would be better.

"Did you just call my house…a naquadah mine?" Sam looks a little pissed off. And a little like she's about to start laughing.

What's going on here?

"I believe Daniel Jackson is confused."

Indeed.

"We're at Sam's house, Daniel. Christmas party…presents…you driving me over here and getting both of us lost…any of that ring a bell, darling?"

Wait, what? Hold on a sec.

"There was a bright light—"

"Well of course there was a bright light, Jackson, after all that eggnog." Mitchell's guffaw doesn't help the head-pounding. "I swear, the stuff Vala made could've fuelled a rocket."

"We're getting her to do it again next year."

Jack gives Vala a thumbs-up. My mind's reeling. This kind of does look like Sam's living room. Her sofa. Christmas party. So I drove here? Eggnog—ugh.

"Wait, so I'm not dead?"

"Nope." Jack grins at me. "Just a very cheap date."

"And…you're not a ghost."

Just making sure. Not sure I appreciate that look that Jack and Mitchell just exchanged.

"Good to see you're still racing Carter for the brains of the team title," Jack deadpans, and Mitchell nods at me at the same time:

"Maybe you should lie back down, Jackson."

I look at Jack. Come to think of it, he's not transparent anymore. And—

"Hey," I realize with enthusiasm, "the chain of command is gone!"

"It is?!" Sam brightens up, then catches herself. "Not that that's relevant in any way."

"Put down that eggnog, Carter."

"Yes, Sir."

So it was all some kind of drunken fantasy? But I remember everything so clearly. Apophis, Lya, the transparent, floating Jack. Santa Claus? No, wait, that's not right. Ow. God, my head hurts. Can someone please turn down the lights?

"You…are ridiculously lightweight, Daniel," I hear Vala's teasing tone, but at the same time the glaring chandelier lights go out. Huh. Didn't even realize I'd said it out loud.

"Come on, Carter, let's get some coffee going." Jack's voice floats out of the room, and by the shuffling of feet I think everyone else has followed him. I crack open an eye, just to make sure I'm still in Sam's living room. Looking good so far.

That was one strange dream.

I hold up a hand and stare at it for a second, flexing my fingers. Everything feels just the way it should. (except for my head, which I'm sure was never designed to throb quite that painfully. My mouth feels a little numb, too. Ow, and my eyes…ah well, at least everything below the neck seems to be working.)

"Now isn't that good to hear, darling."

Damn it. Of all the things to say out loud…and when did Vala get back into the room, anyway? Ow, ugh…God.

"Just what the hell did you put into that eggnog, Vala?"

Through half-open eyelids, I can see her cross her arms and give me a defensive glare.

"Well I warned Jack that I had no idea how to prepare your quaint little Christmas inebriant, but since you wouldn't let me go anywhere near the tree…"

"You tipped it over!" Oh yea. It's coming back to me.

"It was an accident!"

My head still thumping, I manage to haul myself to a half-sitting position on Sam's couch, only to accidentally knock over a nearly-empty glass that had been precariously perched on the back of the sofa. I scuttle to catch it in time, but it's hopeless: I can only watch as whatever amber liquid was still inside forms a little puddle on my pant leg.

"Argh."

"Really, Daniel, you're such a baby." How did she suddenly end up nearly on top of me? And hey-hey-hey—what's with all the rubbing and prodding? "Here, let me help you clean that off."

Ha! I manage to catch her wrists before she does God-only-knows what Vala can come up with…

"I think not." I snatch the white napkin from the hands. Oh don't even try to pull the injured-pride act on me, it won't work ag—

"You know what Daniel?" That sounds genuinely unfriendly, a little worse than I expected. "You think too much."

Hm.

"I was only trying to be helpful." She swivels on her heels, heading for door and damn it, apparently the act is working again, after all.

"Okay, okay, wait!" Ow. Throb. "Don't go. I'm sorry."

I proffer the napkin as a sign of peace. She wavers for a second, then turns back, grabs the napkin and plops on one of the sofa arms—a safe distance from my eggnog-stained pant leg, the object of our dissension.

This silence isn't so bad, come to think of it. Kind of…snug. Helps with the headache. Lets me think, too. I wonder what my subconscious is trying to tell me.

"Vala?" In the light coming from the hallway, I can just make out the outline of her body, leaning against the sofa. Her head turns slightly towards me.

"Mm?"

"That's what people do. We think. We have higher cognitive function…that's what separates us from the anim—"

"Daniel?" I know what's coming. "Shut up."

Well. At least there was no mention of tongue-cutting. That's progress.

The skin around my mouth still feels a little tingly when I speak. At least the painful throbbing is subsiding, and my eyes don't feel like they're about to pop out with every heartbeat.

"Vala?"

"Mmmhm." She doesn't sound too happy with the calls for attention. I don't know if I'm displeased or relieved that she's not paying attention.

"You know what else separates us from the animals?"

A sigh. Say what you will, but I know she's pondering whether making an innuendo is worth the effort.

"No," she finally grunts, face half-buried in the back of the sofa.

"Previously engineered social engagements…with selective participation."

Pause. Blink.

"…okay." Utter confusion.

I must've had more to drink than I thought. Shut up now. Keep it shut. Don't—

"Vala?"

Damn it.

"That's it, no more eggnog for you. Ever."

"How sure are we that the Ba'als are dead?"

She actually slips off the arm of the sofa at an alarming speed.

"Jack!! How long can it possibly take to make a pot of coffee?!"

THE END

!Merry Christmas!