Thoughts on Christmas Eve

By Lyn


A little Christmas snippet for my LD family. Wishing you all of Santa's goodies and much love and prosperity for 2007.

There were times Daniel wondered if being a child again was so bad. If escaping the general routine of cleaning house and paying bills was that much forfeiture. If avoiding the responsibilities of a mission gone wrong, of lives lost, of planets overwhelmed and their inhabitants killed or taken into slavery by the Goa'uld was not, in fact, a blessing.

His early childhood the first time around had been full of happy memories, of parents who adored him, who taught him, who indulged him. But when they'd died, those happy memories were replaced with sadness, fear and loss, and an overwhelming need to be somewhere he was wanted. He'd always felt somehow out of step, never quite knowing how to please, how to be accepted, until he finally realized that it wasn't him at all who was faltering. That being an orphan should not preclude him from being loved. By then, it was too late to undo the damage, to calm the uncertainty within him that he did not deserve to be loved, had done nothing to earn it.

This time, the love he felt was absolute and unqualified. Though his behavior at times must have been enough to try the patience of a saint, let alone Jack O'Neill, it was dealt with, talked about and let go, with no rancor, no punishment beyond the hurt he'd see in Jack's eyes, which was enough punishment in itself.

Times like this though, were especially hard. He watched as his team prepared to walk through the Stargate once more, not knowing if he'd ever accompany them again. It wasn't just the envy that sat uneasily with him, but the fact he knew he still had something to offer inside this small five-year-old body. That he was still Doctor Daniel Jackson, archeologist and linguist, an integral part of SG-1.

Jack turned and looked up at him and gave him a cocky smile and a thumbs up. Daniel returned the gesture, though his actions were somewhat half-hearted.

"Daniel?" Jack called.

"Yes, Jack."

"There's something for you in my office. Something you need to see right now."

"Okay. Can't it wait till you get back?"

"I said right now, Daniel."

There was a tap on his shoulder. Daniel looked up from his perch on a stool beside Sergeant Harriman and looked into General Hammond's kind eyes. "Why don't I take you over there, son."

Daniel clambered down, giving the team a final wave before allowing the general to lead him from the control room, wondering if this was just Jack's way of helping him avoid the sadness and pain he felt at once again watching them leave without him.

General Hammond stood back and motioned for Daniel to open Jack's door. Iridescent light engulfed the entire room. In the center of the office stood a large Christmas tree, glowing with everchanging brilliant hues of red, green and blue. Gaily wrapped parcels were piled at the base and a note was stuck to the lowest branch.

"I think that's for you," Hammond said with a gentle smile.

Daniel stepped into the room and pulled the note from the branch. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, a grin appearing on his face, his fear, insecurity and sadness about the what-ifs and what-nows disappearing.

"Merry Christmas, Daniel

By the way, some of these presents are mine, so no opening anything till I get back at 0900 Christmas Day.

Love Jack."