Santa's In The Attic by denise

Santa’s In The Attic
By denise

Jack climbed the stairs to the attic, awkwardly carrying the empty box. He didn’t want to do this. Hell he’d put it off for years. But it was time, past time if he was honest.

He opened the door and stood at the threshold, his eyes skating over the dusty stuff before him. There was less than there used to be, Sara took a lot with her when she left. But there was still plenty of clutter. With a heavy sigh he set down the box and crossed the bare floorboards, opening the tiny window. Immediately fresh crisp air poured into the room dispelling some of the musty odor.

With the air came the sounds of a Saturday morning. It was an oddly warm year and people were taking advantage of it. Through the bare trees he could see kids outside, running through stubborn piles of dead leaves and riding their bikes, scooters and roller blades up and down the street. The calendar may say it was December but as far as the kids were concerned, it was a free summer day, their only concession to the month the fact that jeans and jackets were the uniform of the day rather than shorts and t-shirts.

Sighing again he turned away from the window. Putting this off wasn’t going to make it any easier. Picking a box at random he squatted down beside it and pulled off the lid. Brightly colored books greeted him. He picked up one of the books and felt the memories wash over him. He’d bought this one at the PX in Germany on his way back from a mission. Sixteen hours later he’d staggered home totally exhausted and jet lagged. Charlie had climbed up into his lap and demanded that daddy read it to him before he’d go to sleep. Sara had found the two of them an hour later, both asleep in the chair.

Swallowing hard, he set the book aside and dug through the box pulling more and more out, some he remembered, some he had never really seen. Satisfied that all the box contained was books, he put all but the first one in and put the lid back on the box. He got to his feet and picked it up, moving it closer to the stairs.

He picked another box and was greeted by the bright colorful toys that his son had out grown, yet Sara hadn’t been able to give away. He pulled a mobile out of the box and wound it up; watching the little balls and bats spin in his grasp. It had been a baby gift from his CO at the time. He set the mobile aside and pulled out toy after toy, some in better shape than others. There were balls, stuffed animals and clothes. All the things that a baby out grows but a parent can’t get rid of. Resolutely he repacked the box, leaving out only a few of the more scruffy items.

Box after box he went through, each one representing a year in his son’s life. Every Thanksgiving Sara had cleaned her, their, son’s room, packing away all the things Charlie wasn’t using to make room for Santa’s offerings in a month’s time. And every year she couldn’t bear to discard the items, rather she packed them up neatly and sealed them in boxes, maybe thinking that Charlie might one day want to share them with his son.

Each box was a picture of how his son had changed in the year and it was like watching him grow up again as Jack went from baby clothes and teething rings to fire engines, airplanes, racecars, sports balls and GI Joe’s. Selected items he pulled out and placed in the box he’d brought with him, just a thing or two from each year. He placed the GI Joe with the name ‘O’Neill’ sewn on its uniform that Sara had made aside the book and the mitt he’d bought just days before….that day, and the little plaster hand print with ‘Charlie’ scrawled awkwardly into the base. He pulled out the first ball cap he’d bought his son and set it on the teddy bear that was missing one ear that was Charlie’s inseparable buddy for three years and put both of them in the box.

His box full and more than a dozen other less than full, he sealed his box and started making trip after trip down the steep stairs, placing each box in the bed of this truck. He got into the vehicle and made his way through the traffic to Cheyenne Mountain. Once there he snagged a cart and loaded the boxes onto it, slipping into the seldom-used freight elevator. As long as nothing had changed the base should be pretty much deserted this morning. Which was the main reason he’d picked the time to drop by. He wanted no witnesses.

He got off at the right level and pushed his cart down the hall, listening for anyone. Arriving at his destination he pulled out his card and opened the door, thanking the fates that he had a high enough clearance to go pretty much everywhere in the base. Quickly off loading the cart he left the room, careful to lock the door behind him. Mission accomplished he retraced his steps and exited the mountain a bare half-hour after he’d arrived. He drove home, feeling a curious mixture of relief and regret, yet somehow like he’d shed a burden.

Jack sat in the weekly Team Leader’s meeting, doodling on his Christmas List, fighting back a yawn. Usually these meetings were a chance for team leaders to brief their peers on mission details and personnel issues but since the SGC was practically going to be shut down for the holidays this one was more of a gab session. A gab session he had to attend unfortunately. Of course they just said he had to be here not that he had to be conscious at the time he thought, doodling a Christmas tree complete with a star on top as Makepeace prattled on regaling them all with the antics of the SG-3 Christmas Party. Fighting to conceal another yawn he snuck a peek at his watch, it was almost over.

“Colonel, I really shouldn’t know about this,” Hammond said as Makepeace’s tale started to venture into areas best left unsaid.

“Yes sir,” the marine answered, “I do just have one other thing.” At the general’s nod he continued. “Last week there was a security breech on the base.”

“And you’re just reporting this now Colonel? What was the nature of the breech?” Hammond asked, his voice alert now.

“Nothing serious sir, someone just got into my office and …well sir, someone filled our Toys for Tots container to over flowing,” he reported his voice puzzled.

“Let me get this straight, someone broke into your office not to steal something but to drop off toys?”

“Yes sir. Nothing else was even touched. Which is why I didn’t say anything until now. I mean apparently ‘Santa’ wanted to remain anonymous.”

“I see. Keep an eye on it Colonel. I don’t want security breeches like this to become common place,” the general warned. “And I think that about covers it for the week. As you know there are no off world missions scheduled until after the first of the year so the SGC will be on skeleton staff, however everyone is on call,” he warned. “Please let security know where we can find you should we have an emergency. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Dismissed.” The general stood, as did all the officers gathered and left the room.

Relieved to be free, Jack picked up his pad. He might be able to knock out a bit of shopping on his way home if he played his cards right.

Two weeks later Jack entered his office groaning as he saw the pile in his inbox. Damn, go away for a few days and all hell breaks loose. Sitting in his chair he gamely dug through the stack frowning when he came to a plain manila envelope. He flipped it over, studying it trying to determine its origin. Curious he slit it open and a pile of photos spilled out. He picked them up and looked at them. Photo after photo was of a kid tearing into a gaily-wrapped gift, huge grins spitting their faces. He felt his heart skip when he looked at one picture. It was of a little girl, maybe 4; her small arms wrapped tightly around a big teddy bear…the same bear he’d brought home for Charlie from Guam. As he studied the pictures closer he saw that many of them were of kids unwrapping Charlie’s toys. A slip of paper was at the bottom of the pile. Jack picked it up and felt tears well up as he read it. ‘Charlie’d be proud flyboy’.