Christmas Wish
Daniel's brows knit in puzzlement. Despite the cold and the snow, the night was quiet and peaceful. Eyes locked onto the contents of the box he held in his hands, he shook his head. "I don't understand."
Jack scuffed his feet nervously on the pavement of the sidewalk outside Daniel's house. He'd insisted on keeping Daniel from going inside after their dinner at O'Malley's. "I know. But you're good at figuring this stuff out."
"You could always . . . oh, say . . . tell me." Daniel finally looked up. He gave an unsure little smile. "Is there a joke?"
Jack shook his head. "No. Not this time. Look, I'm gonna take off, get home before this stuff really starts coming down. When you figure it out, give me a call."
"But I don't . . ."
"See ya 'round," Jack said with a little wave. After a few steps backwards, he turned and walked to his truck, leaving large boot prints all the way across the fresh snow that had fallen in Daniel's yard.
Daniel watched Jack leave. He gripped the box tightly in his hand then pulled his house keys from his pants pocket. The entire tight was turning out to be more than he could explain.
"First dinner, then the . . . talking," Daniel groused as he yanked off layers of clothing on his way to his bedroom. He set the box down on the coffee table in the living room. "What the hell was with the talking? We never talk. Bitch and moan maybe, but not talk." He rubbed his hair briskly with his hands to rid it of the melted snow, stripped out of his clothes then found the thickest pair of sweats he had, a warm pair of socks, and redressed. "I need coffee," he muttered and shuffled into the kitchen to start a pot brewing.
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Jack parked his truck, plugged in the block heater and headed inside. Without turning on any lights he hung up his coat, made his way to the bedroom and sat on the bed. He methodically removed his clothes, dressed in an old t-shirt and sweats then ducked quickly under the covers.
"I never should have done it," he said to the night.
++++
Daniel stared sullenly at the box on the table. Jack was up to something . . . he could feel it. With the big toe of his right foot, he spilled the contents out onto the table. He knew what they were - he'd played the game as a child. Only these were probably the smallest he'd ever seen. He leaned forward and picked one up, sipping at his cup of coffee as he did so. He sat back, the brightly colored piece of spiky metal between his thumb and forefinger. He rolled it back and forth, watching the light glint from the various surfaces. That's when he saw it. A small marking on one of the posts. It was a three, written with a very fine tipped felt pen and an arrow. Picking up another of the pieces, he moved it around until he found another set of marks. Number fourteen . . . and another arrow. What the hell?
++++
Jack tossed and turned, his stomach in knots and his mind in a whirl. He began composing his letter of resignation - again.
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Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Daniel leaned on the coffee table, magnifying glass in one hand, miniature game piece in the other. "Fifty of the little bastards. Must have taken him hours to number all these." He set to his task of putting the puzzle together.
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Jack stood quietly, staring out at his back yard. Despite the lateness of the hour, it was bright - the reflection from the snow and the street lights making everything glow. Tomorrow was Christmas. General Hammond would be home with family and friends around. He could talk to him then.
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Daniel sat back at stared at the shape on the table. This couldn't be right. He'd worked for nearly an hour trying to figure out how to line up the pieces . . . and now he had this? He stood up and looked down on it, wondering if a different perspective would work.
"This doesn't make any sense," he complained. He looked at them for a little while longer. "Why would he give me . . . oh . . . oh no. No nononono." Lacing his fingers over the top of his head he stood and stared. "He couldn't. Could he?" A slow smile began to spread over his face. "Could he?"
He scooped up a handful of the colored toys and headed for the door.
++++
The doorbell sounded loud in the stillness of the night. Jack turned away from the view of his back yard and walked resolutely up the steps. He flipped on a light as he threw the deadbolt back.
A slightly out of breath, rosy-cheeked Daniel Jackson greeted him from the porch.
"Jacks in the shape of a heart," Daniel said with grin of triumph on his face. He held out the fist-full of small, colored pieces. "Jack's heart."
"Yeah," Jack said quietly with a nod.
Daniel tucked the jacks into the pocket of his jacket as he stepped inside. "Why didn't you tell me?" He shucked his coat and hung it over the doorknob.
"Told myself I wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Wasn't returned," Jack said simply as he walked away. "I shouldn't have done it."
"How do you know it's not returned?"
"Daniel, don't," Jack said tiredly. He lowered himself into a chair.
"It is returned," Daniel said firmly, sitting on the couch opposite Jack. "It always has been."
Jack merely shook his head.
"Since Abydos," Daniel said, his smile never wavering, "since that first trip through the gate." He nodded when he saw the disbelief on Jack's face. "I stayed with Shau're because I didn't think there was a better option. If I had known . . . I would have come back."
"I thought," Jack said, slightly confused. "I thought . . ."
"I loved her," Daniel said. "But I loved you first."
Jack's face held what his voice couldn't utter.
Daniel tried to explain further. "When you can't have something that's in front of you every single day, you learn to stop feeling the want. Doesn't mean it goes away - it just means you get used to not having it."
"And now?" Jack asked.
"It's Christmas Eve," Daniel said, his eyes sparkling. "Miracles happen and wishes come true on Christmas Eve. Don't they?"
"Yeah," Jack said, his body finally letting go of the anxiety of the past evening. A smile touched his face. "I guess they do."
~ tbc ~
