A/N: This is for Amy, who fed the steno.

It landed softly with barely a sound atop a drift of newly fallen snow. A moment later its screen lit up, lighting the darkness around it with a white glow which echoed that of the hundred bright bulbs hanging from the front porch of the log cabin by which it lay. The first few stanzas of the Hallelujah Chorus rang out only to be cut off abruptly as the caller went to voice mail. The LCD screen's light followed.

Peace fell like a blanket upon the cold Christmas Eve.

Abruptly, the cabin door was flung open again, destroying the calm once more. Jack strode out onto the porch, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day echoing from his hand, and flung the offending object as far as he could into the night. Sam's cell phone landed next to his own in the snow. Satisfied, he went back inside.


A fire blazed in the fireplace's stove insert, filling the small cabin with heat and warmth, welcoming Jack O'Neill back inside. Samantha Carter was a bit less welcoming. "You didn't have to throw them outside…" she complained.

"Yes I did." He settled down next to her.

"We could have just turned them off…." Despite her irritation, she shifted position, leaning against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I told them not to call."

"What if it's an emergency?" she asked as she tucked her feet beneath her.

"Could the request from the French Ambassador for a meeting next Tuesday have waited two days?" He bent to kiss the soft spot directly behind her right ear.

She shifted against him, tilting her head to provide better access. "Well…. Yes."

"And could they have asked you the day after Christmas if you'd meant to requisition 2.3 or 2.4 mg of naquadah for your next experiment?" He dropped a gentle line of kisses along the soft pink shell of her ear.

"Hmmmmm…" she murmured. Then, recollecting herself, "Yes."

His mouth trailed down the sensitive curve of her neck, his breath whispering into the cleft where neck met shoulder as he asked, "And don't they have our landline in case there is a real emergency?"

Her answer was nearly lost on a moan as she shivered in his arms, "Ye...es."

She could feel his smile against her shoulder as he concluded, "Then why, for crying out loud - baring true intergalactic emergencies - can't I get two days free from the demanding bleeps of those things to spend Christmas alone with my wife?"

And since Jack's hands had been as busy as his mouth, even if Sam could have thought of a response, she'd lost the desire - and ability - to voice it. She did, however, have just enough awareness left to add 'new cell phones' to her after Christmas shopping list before conceding completely to her very persuasive companion.

Slipping off the sofa, she stood and waited for him to follow her into the adjoining bedroom where, in the warm depth of their goose feather bed, neither of them waited for Christmas morning to open anything.


Outside, in the snow, the phones continued to ring, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day and the Hallelujah Chorus playing out for hours unheeded until inevitably, the phones' batteries froze and the rest of them followed. Inside the cabin, however, the fire continued to burn all night, warming its inhabitants throughout the frigid cold of the Northern Minnesota night.