Captain Samantha Carter opened up her Christmas card - from the realtor that had sold her this little house - and put it on her mantelpiece next to the small collection already there, then looked around the undecorated living room. It really was pitiful. She actually had no life. Her other team-mates all had somebody - Daniel would be off to Abydos to spend time with Kasuf, while Teal'c and Colonel O'Neill had been invited to spend Christmas Eve with Janet and Cassie.
She chose to ignore the fact that she had been invited too. Janet's adoption of Cassie was still very recent, and Sam didn't want to get in the way of their bonding. It would also remind her of what she could never have.
And that didn't just mean a certain handsome brown-eyed Colonel.
Sam had been attracted to the Colonel the minute she'd met him. At least physically. Personality-wise, she'd thought he was a complete jerk and she'd responded to his challenges in an overly-uptight manner - trying to hide her strong reaction to him. But they'd started working well together after Simarka, when she'd realized he was attracted to her too. She'd been able to lighten up and they'd begun building a cautious friendship.
She'd realized that she cared deeply about him when Hathor - bleeeeaaaargh - had turned him into a Jaffa. She'd examined his stomach to ensure that the pouch had been eradicated, and he'd thrown down one of his wisecracks. But then his eyes had met hers.
And it had been a bigger rush than stepping through the 'gate for the first time - minus the nausea.
She was in love with Colonel Jack O'Neill.
And she couldn't have him.
What they were doing was so important. More important than dreams of something that could never be. So she concentrated on her work and her growing friendships with the three most important men in her life. But there was always something that separated them - she was still 'the girl' in some respects. Certain subjects weren't discussed in front of her, they were a little more inclined to tiptoe around her when they saw that her chocolate stash had doubled for one week. She was under no illusions that they saw her as inferior. But she was different.
She sighed, unable to stop herself remembering wistfully the Christmases she'd experienced as a kid. Before the terrible crash that had taken Alison Carter from their lives - and with her the sunshine, fun and laughter. Before the fights, punctuated by slamming doors and interspersed with angry silences.
Well ... what to do, what to do. She was incredibly, incredibly bored. When she was at home, she missed the SGC. Missed the constant activity, the challenges, the interaction between so many learned brilliant minds. She missed the Colonel's smirks, Daniel's rapid-fire talk, Teal'c's slow measured responses.
It really was sad that she had more of a life at work than at home. But even in the heady days of the late 20th century, Sam knew very few women who could truly 'have it all'. Something always had to give.
And that wasn't a choice she was prepared to make yet.
But she could choose to go back to the SGC. There were always experiments on the go - not all of the SGC's personnel celebrated Christmas, some being Jewish, others Muslim, others nothing in particular - so she'd be guaranteed to find someone to chew the fat with.
Even if it wasn't any of her team-mates.
The next morning:
Colonel Jack O'Neill strolled into Captain Carter's lab, hands in pockets, ready to take advantage of his 2IC's absence to fiddle with her microscope. His visits to her lab were the only time he saw her close to losing her professional manner around him - and truth be told, that's why he did it. He liked seeing the little peeks of the true Sam Carter that came out when she slapped his hand away from whatever new toy she'd discovered.
Oh, speak of the devil.
She was curled up impossibly tightly in one of the small leather chairs in her lab - his knees ached on her behalf - arms folded and tousled head resting on them. Her cheeks were flushed, mouth slightly open, and a gentle snore issued from her.
She was utterly adorable and he had to resist the urge to stroke her cheek - to find out if the skin could possibly be as baby-smooth as it looked. "Carter!"
"Go 'way," she mumbled, her hand flying out to swat at something. An alarm clock maybe?
One other thing about Sam Carter. When not in the field, she slept like the dead.
Jack fought the chuckle building inside of him, recalling that he'd ordered her off the base last night. If she'd pulled another all-nighter again ...
"Oh, Ca-a-a-a-rt-e-e-r-r-r," he cooed, bending down close to her ear.
She shot up instantly, her cheek brushing against his lips. And it turned out her skin really was as smooth as it looked. She looked around wildly. "Sir?"
"Hey, there!" Forcing himself to not think about the odd electricity that had flowed through him at the soft touch of her skin, Jack pushed one hand in his pocket and waved the other playfully at her. "Did you know you snored?" He moved over to her workbench.
She frowned slightly. "I don't." Then added, almost automatically; "Don't touch that."
"Well, you know, Carter; I'm sometimes not too good at taking orders. Maybe you're picking up some of my bad habits that way?"
And there was the cute - no; not cute! - confused look. "Sir?"
"I distinctly recall telling you to get your ass off base last night," Jack said. "It's a very easy matter to pull last night's security tapes. If I find out you've pulled another all-nighter ..."
"I went home," Carter protested, standing up and stretching.
"For how long?" The silence that greeted his question was telling, and Jack shook his head in gentle sadness. "Carter, Carter, Carter ... You need a life in the worst way."
"Okay."
Carter smiled slightly, evidently humoring him, and Jack frowned. "I mean it," he said. "Even a super-genius like you can only go at the pace you're setting for so long before you burn out." He grabbed an electron-microscope and fiddled with it, noting peripherally how big her eyes became. Her latest new toy had cost the SGC over $3,000.
"Sir ..."
"Tell you what, Carter. You go home tonight, don't come in until 0800 tomorrow, and I'll leave your toys alone for three days. How about that?"
The bait had been cast. Would she go for it?
"Sir; I'm fine."
And for some reason, right at that moment she reminded him of how badly Charlie would fight his bedtime - even when his eyes slammed shut of their own volition. Jack frowned. "Okay; so softly-softly won't work. If this were the movies, I'd throw you over my shoulder and haul you outta here." With of course a slap to that cheeky rounded ass.
Not that he'd noticed or anything.
The eyes grew impossibly large. "But this isn't the movies," Jack added. "So I'll make it a damn order. You, Captain Carter, will leave here by 1800 hours tonight and will not step over the check-in point at NORAD until 0800 tomorrow."
Carter sighed. "Yes, sir," she said, accepting defeat gracefully.
Or so it appeared. "And don't even think about wiring up some handy little trick to provide looping of an empty lab."
Carter spluttered on nothing, skunked at last, and Jack chalked up one more victory to the not-so-dumb Colonel. "See you later, Carter," he offered casually and set off to the commissary for a victory cake.
The next day:
"Deck the halls with boughs of holly ..."
Sam stretched out a slim hand from under her sheets and beat the offending clock-alarm into silence.
"Fah-la-la-la-lah, fah-la-lah ... feh," she grumbled.
Season of goodwill to all men. Phooey. So why are more suicides recorded around this 'holiday' than at any other time of the year? Tell me that, carolers!
Not surprisingly, she received no answer.
She got out of bed and eyed her bed head, wishing that she had the sort of hair that was naturally neat, before grabbing her robe and heading into her bathroom. Then she saw the weather outside and groaned. So, what was the point of doing her hair? It would be a mess within ten seconds of leaving the house.
Jack eyed his subordinate curiously as she came into the briefing room, practically making love to her large mug of coffee. Her eyes were shadowed and her short-cut blonde hair was unusually untidy, giving her an elfin look. "Carter," he greeted mildly.
"Sir?"
Always polite, he noted, even when half-dead. She'd been just the same in Antarctica. "Didn't have time to brush your hair this morning?"
"Ah." Her fingers fluttered up to her hair and she blushed. "Sorry, sir," she apologized immediately. "Permission to ...?"
"You got ten minutes," Jack shot back.
"Only need five."
And the lithe young woman put her cup down in front of Daniel - huge, huge mistake - and hurried away.
Daniel eyeballed her coffee cup longingly, stretched a hand toward it then evidently decided that he'd used up his good luck quota for the year on Apophis' ship. He pulled his hand back and sighed heavily. "Jack," he said.
"Daniel?"
"Is Sam okay? She's been pretty out of it the last few days."
"I know." Jack had to admit to being worried about her. She seemed unusually quiet and her usual vivid smile had been replaced by an ever-present air of ... not depression exactly, but melancholy at least. "Maybe she's just feeling the strain - it's been a hard year."
"Maybe." Daniel didn't look convinced, and Jack didn't exactly buy it either. Carter was one of the strongest people he knew - stronger than him in some ways.
"I observed Captain Carter in a most foul mood at the check-in point last night," the final member of SG-1 put in. The Jaffa Teal'c folded his hands and leaned toward his comrades. "She forced the security officers to change the radio station, claiming that she was 'sick to death' of hearing Christmas songs." He smiled slightly. "The Private was most ... willing to comply with her ... request."
"Carter doesn't like Christmas?" Jack was astounded at the notion - and slightly amused at the mental image of the giant young Marine cowering in fear of the slim Captain. Except for the Christmas just after he'd lost Charlie, he'd always loved the holiday. Even now, he enjoyed much about this time of year. He visited Cassie's school, helped out with their Nativity and Hanukkah festivities, and had been adopted by many of the kids there. It wasn't the same as being with Charlie, but it helped.
"Evidently not." Teal'c shrugged. Christmas was a Tauri phenomenon he'd yet to experience, but he had admitted to some curiosity about it. "It appears that Christmas is a time for family, correct?"
"Yeah."
"And Captain Carter has no family."
"Damn." When he thought over it, Jack realized the big man was right. Sam's brother hadn't talked to her for years, and her relationship with her dad was similarly frosty. SG-1, along with Doc Fraiser and Cassie, were probably the closest thing she had to a family. "So ... what're we gonna do about it, guys?"
"Jack?"
"Daniel. Carter's our friend, and she is severely lacking in Christmas spirit." Jack's eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. "It's our duties as caring friends" - really smooth, O'Neill!, he scorned himself - "to rectify this."
"So ... you're suggesting a Christmas challenge."
"Yep. SCFSC."
The linguist looked confused - something that happened often when Jack was in this kind of mood. "Huh?"
"Twenty-three languages and the best you can come up with is 'huh'?" Then Jack relented. "Save Christmas For Sam Carter."
"I'm in," Daniel said.
Jack suspected that the kid didn't want to be alone either. The Abydonians didn't celebrate Christmas, but this would be Daniel's first major holiday since Sha're had been taken. "Cool!" He clapped his hands together. "Teal'c?"
"Of course." Sometimes the big man was so alien Jack thought he'd never understand him. But he was unbelievably human at other times.
The subject of their discussion came racing in, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and hair smooth once more. She looked the picture of health, and Jack took a brief moment to admire her before switching over to CO-mode. "Take a seat, Carter," he said brusquely.
December 25, 1998:
Someone was hammering on her door.
Loudly.
Sam opened an eye and switched off the radio partway through the overly-enthused DJ's loud "Merry Christmas!" Phooey.
The someone was still hammering on her door.
That someone was dead meat on a stick.
It was Christmas morning, and if she wanted to hole up in her house and sulk, then why the hell couldn't she? It wasn't like she had anything better to do - after all, Colonel O'Neill had locked her out of her lab until the 28th.
Don't like him, she decided mutinously.
And the hammering continued unabated.
"Sam; you in there?"
That was her CO! What was he doing here? She was pretty certain he was supposed to be in his Minnesota cabin by now - she could swear he'd mentioned something about ice fishing. Personally, after their experience in Antarctica, she'd had enough of ice to last her a lifetime, but whatever floated his boat.
"Carter! For cryin' out loud!"
Oooh, she knew that pissed tone. She pulled a face, then got out of bed and padded to the front door, glad that she was wearing her warm fleecy pajamas, even though the last time he'd seen them he'd made fun of them for months. She opened the door and pasted on as friendly an expression as she could manage.
The best she could manage was a squint-cum-scowl-cum-snarl. She was in a bad mood. So sue her.
Then her jaw dropped.
Daniel and Teal'c wore green elf hats, with bells on the end - the latter with an expression of stoic martyrdom - and Colonel O'Neill ...
He paddled his rounded belly, fluffed his white beard, then gave a resounding "Ho-ho-ho! Me-e-e-r-r-r-y Christmas!"
Oh, dear God. It was contagious.
Sam was sorely tempted to shut the door on them, yet a little part of her wanted to know what they were up to. She sighed, knowing that they weren't going to go away. "Come in, guys," she said. "Put the coffee on, make me a cup too."
The Colonel's eyebrow rose in a rather good impression of Teal'c. "Carter?"
"It's ... six o'clock on Christmas morning, and you've invaded my house," Sam said. "You're getting off lightly with that little bit of insubordination. Sir."
Her CO coughed and smiled slightly, letting his eyes do the full smile. "Just for today, Carter," he said. Then he coughed, paddled his belly once more and ho-ho-ho'd loudly, switching back to his Saint Nick persona. "Merry Christmas, Sam! Santa and his elves" - one particular elf glared stonily and the Colonel coughed again - "will make you coffee, and even breakfast. Then we're going to teach you about Christmas."
Sam snickered. An alien was going to help teach her about Christmas. This could be interesting. But she really wasn't a fan of this Hallmark-overloaded holiday. And she didn't have enough faith to take on board the Christian meaning of Christmas.
Then she saw the sweet slight puppy-dog pleading in Daniel's eyes, and remembered that he'd bounced from foster home to foster home as a child. He'd probably not had a good Christmas since long before hers had been destroyed. And she felt like the most self-indulgent witch in the world. Daniel had suffered just as much, if not more, than she had, and he was willing to dress up like an elf to try to get her to cheer up. And Teal'c wasn't even human, and was doing the same!
"Okay, then," she said, smiling at them. "I'll go get changed and you can teach me about Christmas. But that coffee had better be strong. And there'd better be lots of it, too."
As Sam headed up the stairs, Jack began issuing orders, while he whipped up a light omelet for one of his favorite brainiacs. "T; she needs more firewood - this house is like ice. And Daniel; break out the decorations. Fraiser and Cassie will be here soon, and this is Cassie's first Christmas too."
"Yes, sir!" Daniel snarked, giving a pretty good salute before heading out to Jack's truck, wherein Jack had stashed some of his spare decorations. Sam had a pretty little house, in a nice street - it wouldn't take much work to bring Christmas into it.
Teal'c simply bowed his head, with that small smile that indicated his pleasure, and went to Carter's backyard to gather up great armfuls of wood.
Jack grabbed some cheese and grated it into the omelet, looking around for some oregano. "Carter!" he bellowed.
"Sir?"
"You got any oregano?"
A light laugh came from his 2IC as she came down the stairs. "Do I look like a domestic goddess, sir?" she asked, appearing in the kitchen.
He turned to snark something back at her, but forgot instantly what he'd been about to say. Carter was dressed in a pair of forest-green cord slacks, not too tight, not too baggy, and a cream vee-neck sweater. Her feet were bare and her hair shone in the early morning light, and her lips were slick with some colored gloss.
She looked gorgeous. Not a domestic goddess, but like ... like the Goddess of Brainiacs. If there was such a thing. Or maybe the Goddess of Geeks. Meh-heh. Oxymoron, anyone?
"Sir?"
"Ah ... yeah?" Yeah. He was real cool.
"You're dripping on my kitchen floor."
"Ah ... crap." He turned back quickly to the skillet and began whisking furiously. He wasn't lusting after his 2IC! He wasn't. He wasn't.
Perhaps if he said it enough, it might actually become a fact.
Sam left the kitchen - the Colonel obviously knew what he was doing with a stove - and went into the living room, following the smell of coffee. "Hey, guys ..."
She looked around, bemused. A five-foot tree rested in the corner near her window, decorated simply in silver, pine cones and a few small presents. With what looked like a home-fired star on the top.
Her furniture had been moved, with the coffee table now in the center, festooned in larger presents and more of the pine cones.
And a fire roared in her fireplace.
"Uh, guys ...?"
"Sam?" Daniel turned from where he'd been poking the fire and gave her a smile.
"It's still 1998, right?"
Daniel just laughed. "What can I say; we're quick elves!" He waved his hand to the very large elf with the tattoo. "Pour the woman some coffee, Teal'c!" he added.
Teal'c offered his own, surprisingly gentle, smile and did so. "Merry Christmas, Capt ... Samantha," he said.
Wow. For the entire time they'd been working together, she'd been on at him to use her first name, but he'd explained that the way he addressed her showed his deep respect for her as a warrior. That had been pretty hard to argue with, especially when you considered the fact that although the women of his culture could fight, and fight well, they were not permitted into the ranks of the Jaffa armies. She wondered what had changed his mind.
She sat down and picked up the coffee cup, pausing briefly to savor the smell before taking a sip. "Lovely," she said. "You are the official coffee-maker on off-world missions," she decided.
Another small smile from the large man. "I don't believe O'Neill would approve of this coffee while on duty," he told her. "I have mixed nutmeg and a liqueur called Baileys into it. Daniel Jackson told me that you enjoyed this combination."
"Oh, I do," Sam reassured him, taking a larger sip from the steaming cup and inching closer to the coffee pot.
Daniel snorted with laughter. "And people think I'm the coffee addict of the group!"
Sam was too busy with her Baileys-induced bliss to think of an appropriate punishment. She'd beat him later.
"Ho-ho-ho! And where's Miss Sam run off to now?"
The Colonel's dulcet tones sounded throughout the small house and Sam giggled, wondering if Janet had screened him thoroughly for any off-world hallucinogens he might have picked up. "In the living room, sir," she said.
"A-ah!" Saint Nick scolded, wagging his finger at her obnoxiously. "I am not 'sir' today. You can either call me 'Jack' or if your multiple-PhD brain can't wrap itself around that, you may call me Santa."
"Uhm ... okay, sir. I mean ... Jack," Sam said.
Jack put a plate in front of her. "Now, eat up, Miss Sam - you have presents to open and Doc and Cassie will be here soon." His brown eyes twinkled beneath the fuzzy white eyebrows. "Cassie's first Christmas - you think Doc got any sleep last night?"
Sam laughed at his knowing expression. She sometimes forgot that he'd been a father, but she was willing to bet he'd been a great one. Once Cassie had gotten over her initial fear of him, she'd loved him - doubtless helped by the puppy he'd bought her, insisting that every Earth child had to have a dog.
Sam picked up her knife and fork, surprised to find herself starving, and began to tuck into the delicious-smelling omelet.
Later that day:
Six very replete people sat back at Sam's small dining table and groaned. "God, Jan; that was so good!" Sam moaned. "I think you killed us!"
The Colonel had shed his Santa suit before lunch, and he paddled his own flat stomach. "I need something sweet." He squinted his way around the table, eye landing on the plum pudding. "Maybe a bit more of that."
Sam groaned again, feeling the pudding shift to her hips. "I can't wait till the day your metabolism catches up with your age!" He was fifteen years older than her - how come he didn't worry about poundage?
"You saying I'm old, Sam?" The man widened his eyes at her, feigning hurt.
"Who's saying anything?" Sam widened her own eyes at him.
"Besides, the evil Doc here" - Janet glared at him with the promise of big needles - "is always saying I could stand to gain a few."
"A few, sir ... Jack," Janet put in, "but you still need to watch your cholesterol."
"Yes, ma'am!" Jack barked out, snapping a parade-perfect salute.
"Smart-ass," Janet mumbled as Cassie giggled.
Sam echoed the giggle and sat back, listening to her team-mates and adoptive family banter back and forth.
That evening:
"Bye, guys!" Sam said, waving as Janet drove away with a half-asleep Cassie. She turned and hugged Daniel then Teal'c, surprised when the big man returned the hug. He was nowhere near as aloof as he often acted, she'd learned throughout the day.
"We'll see you in a couple days, Sam," Daniel said, and he and Teal'c went back to his car.
And that just left Sam and the Colonel. "So ... Jack; you want a coffee or something?" she asked.
"I could go for that," her CO said, "and you can break out that Rocky Road you think I didn't see in your freezer."
"Only for you," Sam grumbled playfully, unwilling for this day to be over yet. They went back into her house, which had been cleaned of the Christmas debris, although the decorations remained. "Thank you for these, sir," she added, indicating the decorations.
"You're welcome," Jack replied. He clapped his hands together. "I don't see ice cream here!"
Sam rolled her eyes at the man's refusal to accept gratitude, but headed for the freezer nonetheless. She brought out the sweet treat, grabbed two spoons and came back into the living room, planting the tub in front of her CO.
Who had sprawled in her recliner, long legs stretched out, playing couch commando with her remote control.
Sure; make yourself at home, she mused with a small fond smile. He looked right sitting in her living room, flipping through the channels at breakneck speed. He ... belonged.
And ... let's kill that train of thought right now!
She shook her head slightly and went over to the tree, bringing down the star. It was definitely hand-made, the imperfections making it much more perfect than something shop-bought. "This is lovely, sir," she said.
"I thought you'd like it," Jack said from around a mouthful of ice cream. He coughed. "It ... ah ... Charlie made it in second grade."
Oh, God … "And you let me use it today?"
"Yeah." He coughed once more. "You, me, Teal'c and Daniel. We're family. A bit dysfunctional maybe, nothing like the Cleavers, but ... Anyway."
She sat down next to her CO, allowing herself to forget temporarily that he was her CO, and slipped her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you ... Jack."
He returned the hug and dropped a gentle kiss onto her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Sam."
"Merry Christmas, Jack."
"Someday," Jack murmured.
And Sam nodded her head. She didn't need the words. She curled into him and giggled softly when he flicked over to the Wizard of OZ.
Someday.