Daniel closed his journal and set it beside him on the bed. Reaching under his glasses, he rubbed his tired eyes, pushed his sweat-dampened tangled hair from his forehead. The air inside their home was too warm and smelled of sand and dust, causing his head to throb slightly from congestion and from the heat. The home he and Sha're had made for themselves was a cross between a tent and makeshift hut, which became almost unbearably hot during the warmest days and unihabitable when the sandstorms hit. Despite that, Daniel loved it because it was their own.

He stretched out from the cross-legged position in which he'd been sitting on the bed, and the heavy robes he was dressed in tangled uncomfortably around his legs. The robes still felt awkward and cumbersome, but after six months on Abydos, his old clothing had long since become too tattered and stained to wear.

Setting down his pen beside the leather-bound journal, Daniel flexed his fingers, stiff from writing�the muscles and tendons already grown unaccustomed to what had once been an effortless task. Daniel hadn't written anything other than short half-page notes in his journal for nearly three weeks, when he was normally in the habit of writing numerous pages a night. He'd been far too busy acquainting himself with his new life, with his wife who was still such a marvel to him every time she smiled at him, or gazed at him with eyes filled with unabashed love. Love for him, a man who had never thought he had much to offer anyone.

It was still hard to believe that he even had a wife, had a family to call his own after a near lifetime of resigning himself to his solitude. A solitude both chosen, as well as such a way of life, he hadn't expected anything different, or to ever change. But it had all changed so suddenly and so completely. There were moments when his mind still reeled from all the new sights, sounds and scents enveloping him as he walked through the Abydonian's settlement, explored the endless dunes, or the map room filled with enough wonders to keep an archaeologist happy for the remainder of his days.

Daniel found his new life miraculous. A dream so perfect he was almost afraid to go to sleep at night for fear that when he woke, he would find himself back in his old, dingy apartment, staring up at the cracked, stained ceiling, listening to the rusty squeals of the pipes and the thumps and rustles of his unseen, anonymous neighbors. The Stargate, the mission to an unknown world and his newfound happiness merely a delusion his overactive imagination had conjured in the late hours of the night. If this place was only a dream, it was one from which Daniel was happy to never wake.

Dream or reality, Daniel knew he would never willingly go back to his old life and the world he had left behind. In fact, he would be happy to never see Earth again, yet when he wrote in his journal, he found himself keeping a meticulous record of the date back there, comparing the differences between the alien desert and Cairo, his interaction with the Abydonians to his former colleagues in the university. He wasn't sure why he was keeping track of such things. Perhaps it was force of habit from his academic days�study, record, then catalog each data, every observation for later perusal and interpretation. Or maybe, he didn't truly believe his new life would last, and he wanted to be aware of how much time had gone by, wanted to make every moment count.

Back there, on Earth�he could no longer think of that place as home�he noted that it was December 23. Two days away from Christmas. Not that he'd ever celebrated the holiday once he was an adult and living on his own, but still, despite his rejection of the season, it had always brought back memories of a time when he did have a family, when there was reason for celebration. When his parents would try to make the holidays somewhat festive for their son, even in the midst of a sand-strewn dig. They'd never had a tree, or decorations for that matter, but he remembered the carefully wrapped presents set out for him and the stocking hung by his bed so he would see it as soon as he woke.

Daniel remembered one year�he couldn't have been more than six years old�when Nick had sent him a beautifully illustrated antique copy of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.' The gift itself was memorable because it was one of the few presents his grandfather had given him, and Daniel had been entranced by the illustrations in the book. The tree in the story was massive, and the thick branches laden with assortments of toys and decorations glowed with candles and colored lights, casting yellow and rainbow hues all around the fictional family's living room. Daniel had never seen a real Christmas tree before, and the tree in the book fulfilled all his expectations of what one was supposed to look like.

He had shown the picture to his parents and asked them if one year, they could have a tree like the one in the book. He had been met with confounded expressions on their faces, leaving the six-year-old Daniel to wonder if one could only get Christmas trees in America. He remembered that he'd immediately felt guilty for asking for such an extravagance, and hadn't mentioned it again. In hindsight, he supposed his parents hadn't even thought of a traditional celebration in the midst of their work, and surrounded by so many cultures and becoming so involved in their tasks, that they had somehow forgotten to acknowledge their own culture and traditions.

Two years after that Christmas, his parents were gone. Daniel had found himself in America where Christmas trees of all shapes and sizes were plentiful in the shopping malls and on television, but they no longer held the magic and the mystery that had once so enchanted him. Daniel's book had since been lost or accidentally left behind in one of the shelters or foster homes, but Daniel could still remember the picture of that tree with acute detail. Over the years and growing up in other family's homes, there had been real Christmas trees, some prettier and more elaborate than others, just as some families were kinder to him than others. None of those trees ever matched the one in that book, just like none of those families could ever take away the loneliness and the longing for his own lost family.

Daniel pulled his thoughts from nearly thirty years ago, and settled himself closer to Sha're sitting next to him, and the slight weight of her body against him was comforting. After the suns had set that day, they had hiked far from the village, and nestled themselves against a dune. The silence of the desert night seemed to encapsulate them, the sand surrounding them a sea of pale gold under an inky black sky. Daniel and Sha're breathed in air wonderfully fresh and clean after the stifling heat of the day, relishing the quiet, feeling as though they were the only two in the universe.

Cuddling together, Daniel watched the alien stars that he thought he would never grow tired of seeing. Keeing his voice soft in the silence of the night, Daniel surprised himself by telling Sha're what time of year it was back on Earth. Telling her about that book and the magical tree he'd wished for. Then, he recited the old poem, pleased that he still knew it by heart, laughed softly when he stumbled over some of the untranslatable words such as sugarplums, reindeers, and St. Nick.

Sha�re smiled, and settled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder and enjoying the sound of his soft voice and the melodious tale of things both unfamiliar and wondrous. When Daniel finished the poem, she asked him to explain what the alien traditions meant. What exactly was Christmas and why did his people find it important to celebrate on such a day?

Daniel thought for a moment, then began to explain the origins of the traditions, describing the numerous other religious observances from other cultures, and the superstitions behind those beliefs. As he spoke, Sha're began to nod distractedly, seemingly lost in thought, which was uncharacteristic for her. Usually she relished hearing of his old life. Sometimes she even had to coax him into telling her more of the world he had so willingly walked away from, but Daniel realized that he had ventured long past story telling and reminiscing, and had unconsciously slipped into lecture mode. A bad habit he was still trying to break.

Glancing at Sha're, he smiled at her, noticing how the moonlight cast a bluish glow on her skin, painting it with soft luminescence. Her thick, black hair glinted with highlights, turning it into a silvery halo surrounding her features. Pulling her to him, he kissed her mouth with tenderness, murmuring a soft apology for rambling about things he thought he had long forgotten, long since outgrown. He wondered why he had told her about those things�perhaps one never outgrew that innocence of childhood. That wonder of things magical and attainable if you only wished hard enough for them.

Sha're giggled against his mouth, surprising him, and she laid her hand on his cheek. "I love it when you ramble, husband. It was one of the first things that endeared you to me," she said with a grin, then kissed him again, her small fingers combing through his hair.

Daniel returned her smile. "Really? And here I thought it was my chicken impression that won you over."

Sha're laughed, then looked at him intently. "Tell me more about this... Christmas tree," she said, frowning as she stumbled over the unfamiliar word. "What did the people on your world use to decorate it?" Her heart clenched at the sudden wistful look on Daniel's face that made him appear startlingly young, somehow vulnerable. In that moment, she saw the much younger version of him wishing for something he had never received. Saw a small boy who had been left very much alone in the world.

*****

Daniel turned over in bed, reaching for the familiar warmth of Sha're and finding her side of the bed empty, the space she had occupied long since grown cold. She had been up for a while, he realized. Streamers of sunlight shone through the open windows, warming his face, the faint breeze ruffling his hair. Sitting up, Daniel ran a hand through his tangled hair, reached for his glasses lying on the floor beside him and put them on.

"Sha're?" He waited for a reply, listened for any sign of her in their small home. When there was only silence, he quickly got dressed, and poked his head outside. He called her name again, but still there was no answer. He glanced around, leaning far outside the door and some of the villagers nearby looked at him questioningly. Daniel ducked back into the hut, reasoning that Sha're probably had some things she wanted to get done early.

An hour later, when Sha're still hadn't returned, Daniel decided to have a look for her, reassuring himself that she probably had forgotten to tell him where she was going, or perhaps she had told him and he was the one who had forgotten. He passed by Kasuf's home to find Ska'ara and three other boys sitting outside in a patch of sunlight. They were hunched over a deck of cards, small stones thrown in the middle for what looked like a poker game. A few weeks ago, Daniel had made the cards and taught the boys a few games for fun. Watching the kids study their cards with fervent attention, Daniel wondered if giving them the cards hadn�t been such a good idea. The boys seemed addicted to the games�particularly poker. Daniel hadn't anticipated turning the youth of Abydos into card sharks as being one of his first accomplishments on the planet.

His brother-in-law glanced up and grinned when he finally noticed Daniel standing over them. "Good morning, Daniel." Ska'ara gestured toward the pile in the middle. "Do you want to join in?"

"No thanks," Daniel said, and tried unsuccessfully to look stern. "Shouldn't you boys be doing something more productive?"

The four shook their heads and gave him their most innocent expressions.

"I am looking for Sha're. Have you seen her?"

Ska'ara nodded. "She said that she had something important to do today, but I do not know where she went."

"Thanks, Ska'ara," Daniel said, frowning again. It was unlike Sha're to go off so early in the morning. Usually they would linger over breakfast before setting to their daily tasks. Maybe she'd just needed a little time to herself, he rationalized. After all, she and Daniel had been nearly inseparable since he'd appeared in her life.

Daniel continued through the small village, pausing to chat with some of the villagers, promising another English lesson in the great hall later in the week. Daniel had not only become the Abydonians resident storyteller, but also teacher. He had begun teaching Sha're, Ska'ara and some of the others English, and word soon spread. Before Daniel knew it, nearly every week, he found himself standing in front of half of the population, using a block of sun-bleached sandstone as a chalkboard and teaching the rudiments of the English language.

Over the past few months, they had graduated from the basics to simple songs, which Daniel thought would be more fun and easier for his eager students to remember. Six months ago, if anyone had told him he would be living on an alien desert teaching a primitive, yet insatiably curious race of people 'Mary had a little Lamb,' he would have laughed himself sick.

*****

Daniel paused outside his home in the late afternoon, and brushed the sand from his hair and off his shoulders. Stepping inside, he smiled when he saw Sha're bustling around, preparing dinner. He had decided to leave her to whatever task had been important enough for her to disappear for nearly the entire day, and had taken the opportunity to continue his perusal of the map room. He suspected he knew what the glyphs on the walls signified, but wasn't allowing his mind to reach any hasty conclusions yet, wasn�t allowing his fascination with the discovery to become all-consuming.

Sha're turned and smiled at him. "Daniel. You are home."

He stepped up to her to kiss her. "And so are you. What were you up to today?"

Sha're smiled at him. "I am sorry to have left without telling you, but Li�na wanted me to help her with the preparation for her baby�s naming ceremony. I wanted to get an early start so that you and I could spend the evening together."

"I thought you finished that last week?" Daniel asked, sensing Sha're was hiding something, but at the same time, he didn't want to pry, didn�t want to seem overly possessive.

Sha're glanced down for a moment, hiding her eyes. "She forgot a few things, which is why she needed my help today. The ceremony is in less than one week, after all."

Tugging on Daniel's hand, Sha�re guided him toward the cushions on the floor where she had set cups and dishes. "I thought we would dine alone tonight. I have missed you today."

Daniel followed, watching her as they both sat opposite each other. Something was definitely up�usually they ate their evening meal in the great hall with the others. "Is everything all right?" he asked, hesitance and something that he knew sounded too close to fear in his voice.

Sha're smiled too brightly at him, her eyes overly wide with feigned innocence. "Of course, Daniel. Everything is just fine. Do you not wish for us to have an evening to ourselves? If you prefer we could join the others--"

Daniel shook his head. "No, this... this is nice. I mean, you went to a lot of trouble," he said, noticing the array of food, goblets of wine, and the carefully arranged lit candles. They gave off a faint, but soothing aroma of mint. "This is wonderful."

And it was wonderful, but Daniel couldn't help but wonder if Sha're was merely trying to prepare him for something. What that was, he couldn't pinpoint, but everything in his life had been so transitory, that there was always a small, but insistent voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this too, may not last.

He jumped when he felt a hand over his. Sha're had moved to sit beside him and smiled reassuringly at him. Daniel pushed aside the doubts, tightened his fingers around hers and listened while she chattered about various things, her voice a pleasant distraction from his troubled thoughts.

*****

Daniel turned over in bed, his nose wrinkling in his sleep. He smelled something familiar, a not unpleasant scent his sleepy mind struggled to identify. Opening his eyes, he saw something burning in the room still black from the night. No, not burning, glowing. Propping himself up on one elbow, he reached for his glasses and put them on. The blurry glow transmuted into--

A wondrous smile stretched across his face and Daniel untangled himself from the covers and stumbled still half-asleep to what sat in the middle of the room. He sat down on the floor and glanced up at the canvas ceiling. The light reflected off the material, flickering shapes of gold, red and purple around the small room. Daniel redirected his attention to the source of the light--a brightly glowing tree, which he could only stare at transfixed with amazement. Well, it was more of a plant than a tree, he realized after a moment. A tall, spindly cactus-type plant with sparse bristly branches, one of the few that grew on the desert. It was generously laden with dangling gold trinkets, brightly colored gemstones that gleamed from the lit candles resting on each branch.

He felt Sha're press up against his back, her hand gently cupping the back of his neck. She looked at Daniel�s profile and smiled at the expression on his face. "I wonder where that came from," she said, her voice a soft whisper.

"You did all this for me?" he said, his voice filled with astonishment, realizing that this was what had taken Sha�re all of the previous day to accomplish. It must have taken her hours just to find the plant, and then she'd had to bring it all the way home, and then the decorations... He couldn't even begin to imagine from where she had found or borrowed them all.

"I know it is not like the one in your book," Sha�re said, shrugging almost apologetically, "but perhaps it will remind you of it, a little."

The tree she had worked so hard to recreate leaned slightly to one side, some of the ornaments threatened to slide off from the weight on the thin branches, but to Daniel, it was the most amazing, perfect gift anyone had ever given him. Each firelit gemstone cast a reflection in the dark room, kaleidoscopes of color dancing over Daniel and Sha're, and the merry display began to blur as Daniel's eyes filled with tears.

"It's the most beautiful tree I've ever seen," he whispered. He turned to Sha're, smiled at her through a watery haze, catching her hand in his. "Thank you."

Sha're gave him a smile of both relief and joy. She gently kissed away a tear that slowly ran down Daniel�s cheek. "You are welcome, Daniel." She pointed underneath the tree to a small present nearly hidden underneath the sagging branches. "Do not forget your gift," she said.

"Oh..." Daniel breathed out, and reached for the present wrapped in a multi-colored scarf. He shook his head slightly. "I... I didn't think to give you anything. I... never expected this," he said, his voice soft, tremulous. He held the gift in his hand, making no move to unwrap it.

"Daniel." Sha're waited until he looked at her. "There is no need for you to give me anything. You are my most precious gift."

Daniel pulled Sha're close to him, held her tight against him, wrapping his arms around her as if he�d never let her go. Her hair tickled his skin, her familiar scent enveloped him. "And you mine," he whispered against her neck.

"Merry Christmas, Daniel," Sha're said in English.

"Merry Christmas, Sha're."

Reluctantly letting her go, Daniel turned to the tree, watched the flickering candlelight, felt Sha're close beside him. That long-lost drawing of the Christmas tree etched in his mind faded to be forever replaced with the one before him. Sha�re was the love and the family he had longed and hoped for, and Daniel realized that he had finally received his wish.

finis