In your hands is a familiar envelope; you've seen this before. That card had been a surprise, hadn't it? From someone whom you'd never have guessed; and here again is another seasonal greeting; and from the looks of it, handcrafted much as the last.

The envelope feels smooth, and solid, the tearing of the paper so... familiar. You can see it. Feel it. And yet, it does not exist. You know this. We've walked this road together before haven't we?

Excellent, you remember!

Now take that imagination, add in the following words and create, in your mind's eye, the image waiting inside this greeting made of fond wishes.

Now slip the card out...

On this dark and bitterly cold night an olive dab sedan picks its way through the snow choked streets of a cheerily decorated neighborhood. The fresh-faced youth at its wheel glances often at his silent passenger, a man who, at the moment, feels as dark and cold as the starless night around them. Each gaily lit home stabs at his heart, freezing it even more.

Their destination is the only dark house on the street.

Once secure in the driveway, the young driver shivers. The dark is darker here; even the lights of the homes around them offer no illumination. He leaves the sedan's headlights lit and hurries to help the older man from the car. A difficult task as his morose passenger is fiercely independent, refusing even prudent help as he finally gains his feet.

Supported by crutches, the man surges forward heedless of the icy walk and his flustered attendant, waving the youth away even as he slips and slides up to the door of the empty house. At the unlit entrance he fumbles with the mating of key to lock, but finally the door is thrown open.

Together they enter the dark space, as cold and as silent as a tomb, only the echoes of their footsteps there to greet them.

Each moment with the young man deepens the older man's melancholy, he answers the necessary questions and directs the placement of his one and only bag, hurrying the youth out into the street, eager to be rid of a living reminder that he is alone this night of all nights.

Seated in the dimly lit living room, he watches the headlights of the sedan flash across the windows still hidden by drawn curtains and drapes. The cheer of the holiday he hopes is finally shut away, held at bay by dark, cold walls. Such numerous reminders of Christmas, family, friends and... children -- too much to bear.

This desire for solitude, to feel as if he were the only living soul on the face of the world is dashed by voices raised in song, joyous words of celebration. His hand steals to the lamp, killing the only light and warmth his empty shell of a home contains. Breathlessly he waits out the passing of the singers.

Thoughts of not being missed, perhaps forgotten, drift like flakes of snow across his mind, driven by a wind that whispers rumors that he has been left behind and abandoned. Logic tells him it is but his frame of mind then of any reality that he feels these things.But he finds it hard to convince himself otherwise.fter all, he ‘is' alone here.

In rumination he seeks answers to his present state of unhappiness.

He has friends whom he is sure would choose to be here, but are not. They are his shield against the gaping hole that had been his family, long since gone. Only the weeping wound reminds, visited often to be salved with blame he alone insists is his.

He is the needle that travels a well-worn grove on a long and endless record of his own shortcomings, satisfyingly sad tones lulls him into a temporary haven of forgetfulness. Eventually, only his slow even exhalations fill the air.

The night grows silent, the cold colder and the darkness, even his own, darker.

It was a breath of warmth, the scent of the deep forest and a glow beyond his closed eyes that roused him from the cold halls of ice that he had locked himself into, a slumber restless and tiring.

He felt comforted, and warmth surrounded him; this he could feel.

More out of habit, than prudence, he concealed his wakefulness; through slitted eyes he sought out what he could not feel. What he saw forced an audible intake of breath and his eyes widened, to see it -- the tree.

Before him it glowed and shimmered in his watering vision, just as he had seen so many times. Its warmth drew him and he made to raise, an attempt that was thwarted by a firm hand on his chest and voices in his ear.

"Jack?"

"O'Neill."

"Sir... we came as soon as we could."

He found himself stretched out on the couch he knew he'd last been slumped painfully upright upon; minutely he scooted back, using the couch's arm as a cushion. His eyes traveling from one friend to another; but always returned to the tree. Blinking hard, he forced the moisture from his eyes. It was just the cold, and suddenly being warm, he told himself as it formed a few tears to run down his face.

"Jack, are you alright," his Daniel worried.He was the one who convinced him to live, who soothed his soul, his first reason to breathe after the death of his son -- at times as one to him.

"Sir..." squeaked Sam. His Sam, the one he longed to touch, to hold and to have. She possessed his heart, and someday both of their hearts would beat as one. And perhaps... a third would grow from that future union.

"Brother, are you well?" Teal'c broadcast uncharacteristic concern. This was his warrior-brother, the one he trusted to protect the other two if he should fail. His peace-of-mind. His rock. His right-hand. His friend.

"Yes, I was... alone."

That one last word... if only he could have burned it from his mouth before it was uttered.Their faces drenched in guilt at its sound.

"...When I fell asleep."

Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a tendril of contentment at the falling away of that fell emotion he had not intended to engender. His eyes flashed to the tree. Better to use his skills as a master of distraction, then to risk more awkward words; words so inadequate for the rising emotions within his breast.

"Oh... the tree, ah, it was Teal'c's idea," waffled Daniel, shyly smiling as he rose to stand aside, affording his recumbent friend a better view.

"It is not tradition to sacrifice a tree to your god?" Teal'c stated, just a hint of teasing protest present, but only just enough to tell his friends of his trust to joke just a bit with them.

"It's not as good as yours, Sir.No tree can compare to last year's," Sam smiled wistfully, clearly remembering the impossible surreal scene in the forests of Minnesota.

Jack, his morose mood fast slipping away, recalled it. The beauty he had seen before, but for his friends, their first encounter.A prefect tiny tree enshrined in a cathedral of scarred, aged russet-trunk-ed forest giants. The warmth and welcome that glowed from the light that shone from its lush boughs gladdened even his heart. O'hung by a glory of smoldering stars in the black velvet of a mid-winter sky; and across it burned the light of hope in the form of a brilliant star; so bright that even a blind man could unerringly point it out.

Never would he forget; that had been the first time he had seen the star. Always before it had only been the tree, wondrous as that was. But these three, his friends, he knew that they would do something important.He hoped that he would be there to witness it, to somehow share in that greatness. He would see that they survived to do what the star needed them to do, or die trying.

"No, not as pretty..." His words spoken before he could break free of his silent oath, little realizing that his friends considered him to be the one among them destined for greatness. After all, how could someone as dark as he, be the bringer of hope? "But, the feeling, the wonder and the hope exists here, now. As long as we are together we can bring that message to others..." Jack tossed a hand vaguely at the ceiling, "...others that need hope."

"And, peace..." Daniel's voice rang clearly.

"Justice," declared Sam with all her heart.

"Honor," Teal'c offered, his face steely with the heady moment of their combined strength.

No longer dark, the house blazed with the light of justice, honor and peace. But brightest of all -- hope -- glowed like a beacon in the darkness of the infinity.

As in answer to the pure, untainted light, the clouds above parted, stars blazed forth and paled as one flashed brighter than all the rest.ll was as it should be, the four now one, the stage set; only the scene need open.

The saga continues!

My hope is that you have a wonderful and safe holiday season
Merry Christmas and have the Happiest of New Years.

JoleneB
DWARF #63 -- stealth
[following that certain star]