Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ethnography of Commonwealth Cultures, Vol. 20, Issue 6. 4^th Quarter, 420 Y.S.

EDITORIAL NOTE: It has been said that nobody ever kept a journal of their life without entertaining the secret hope that someday it would be published. Lady Odarra (250-340 Y.S.) must surely be the exception to that rule, expecting no one's eyes but her own to reread it in future. The following occurred during her tenure as Tarrakan Ambassador and representative to the Council of Worlds (295-320). After her death the journals had been shuffled with other paperwork and donated entire to St. Quinn's Seminary for posterity, recently re-discovered in the Gryffydd Library's Ethnographic Notes section and translated from the Tarrakan by Seeker Linguist Morvannec of Gwynedd. The description of Longest Night festivities from over a hundred years ago are not dissimilar from those of today, so in the spirit of the season we decided to include her account in this issue. Wishing a Good Winter and happy reading to one and all!

As usual, for the benefit of our readers clarification notes are between brackets.

WE REMEMBER THE FOUNDERS.

****************

Gateway, New Earth. 15^th day, 4^th quarter, 300 Y.S.

No matter how extensively the Carter Institute's astrophysicists explain the quantum mechanics behind Gate travel to me it remains a wondrous gift from the Ancients. Imagine taking one small step and being whisked across the galaxy in a matter of seconds! Truly amazing.

I have been commuting between Tarraka and New Earth since I was a little girl with my father, and every time the transition from Neutorral's pleasant climate to Gateway's bracing winter is a shock to the system. I have always been sensitive to cold so fortunately I am well-equipped with the stoutest garments my people produce and the best-insulated apartments nearest the Embassy.

Which, as it turns out, may not be mine for much longer. A recent letter from my landlord informed me the owners have increased the rent yet again; while my government provides a generous stipend at this rate I may have to look at the outlying communities for affordable housing, not to mention apply for an EHV license if the commute is long enough.

Domestic issues aside, I make it a point to arrive a week before the beginning of every Quarter's Council session to ensure everything is in order. There's always excitement surrounding the four major holidays but even more so at this time of the year since it culminates in Longest Night. Austerro [Odarra's aide] reports nothing amiss, the city busily preparing for the upcoming holiday with concerts and craft fairs, parades and parties.

Because as the old saying goes, there's no way like Gateway's for the holiday.

****************

16^th day, 4^th quarter.

Morning staff meeting covering the week ahead then spent an enjoyable afternoon off perusing the marketplaces in search of presents for the family. Of course Tarraka already has access to the merchandise of two galaxies- with those of a third trickling in now that relations with Lavondis Colony and the Southern Pinwheel Galaxy have normalized again- but purchases direct from the Commonwealth's capital hold their own special appeal.

A festive atmosphere prevails in the city. Traditional holiday colors in abundance, familiar carols filling the air, bright lights shutting out the encroaching dark, the Merchants' Forums and Crystal Galleria abuzz with the hustle and bustle of shoppers searching for last-minute gifts.

At one point I sought refuge and refreshment in my favorite teashop, a cozy and welcoming establishment. Good food and a peaceful atmosphere punctuated only by quiet conversation, soft strumming guitar and rich scents of klah, xocolatl from Quetzalutapl and rare Athosian tea blends wafting through the air.

I was standing before the counter awaiting my usual order of tea and lavender pastry bites imported from the Pegasus Galaxy when the door opened, admitting a cold draft of air and prospective customers. While some drifted away to join others a tall gray-haired man and his blonde companion stopped right behind me.

He nodded in a friendly fashion. "Got any recommendations?"

"This shop is known for the excellent quality of their desserts," I replied.

"Terrific. I could go for some cake."

His companion rolled her eyes. "You and your sweet tooth."

"Hey, a man's gotta have a hobby. Did ya even hear me complain once about the hours you spent chatting up the scientists at the Institute?"

"I only wanted to stay informed of the latest developments. They're making great strides since we were here last."

"Yeah, thanks to your orders."

"They weren't orders. Merely suggestions."

He waggled his hand. "Eh, tomato, tomahto."

"You're patrons of the Carter Institute?" I politely inquired.

"You could say," she replied with a wry smile. "We used to live here a long time ago. But we do like popping by to visit whenever we're in the neighborhood."

"Yeah," he agreed, "keeping tabs on things, seeing what's changed, if anyone we know from the old days is still hanging around. You look like you know what I'm talking about, if you don't mind my saying."

"I do. I'm originally from Tarraka but studied here on New Earth when younger- the University and St. Quinn's Seminary later on. I work for the Commonwealth now." I paused, cocking my head. "Interesting. I haven't thought of those days in a long time."

The blonde smiled. "The holidays always seem to stir up feelings of nostalgia, don't they? I hope you have some pleasant memories."

"Bittersweet ones, actually. At University a fellow classmate and I were very much in love but unfortunately we separated after graduation due to different career paths. When I left for the College of Diplomacy on Atlantis he promised to see me off at the Embarkation Hall but never showed up. We haven't spoken since, though I heard through the alumni grapevine he's a Seeker Historian like he always wanted, teaching Early Commonwealth History at St. Quinn's."

The couple shared a look. "Might be a good idea to pay a visit tomorrow," the man remarked. "Check the place out before everything shuts down for winter break."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Ya never know." He pointed towards the counter. "Hey, your order's up."

After collecting my tea and pastry I turned to bid them the traditional Good Winter but they were nowhere to be seen.

A strange encounter indeed, dear journal.

For the rest of the afternoon I puzzled over that cryptic conversation, wondering what compelled me to bring up my past in front of perfect strangers. Though the holiday season does encourage a certain amount of reflection I spoke truthfully when I hadn't thought of it for many years, and with good reason.

Mother [Terradia, a noted tapestry artist] joined the Divine when I was ten. In response Father [Torrando, former Ambassador, Council representative and Minister of Offworld Affairs] chose to immerse himself in scholarship, followed by government service. While Nedarro and Dorrata [younger brother and sister] stayed with Aunt Ubarra and her family I followed Father to New Earth, where the libraries and schools felt more like home than either the estarrcia [an extensive Tarrakan estate or ranch] on the Corradio plains or the ancestral residence in Neutorral. Following his pattern it therefore made sense to let my inheritance rights pass on to Nedarro, who has managed both properties more successfully than I ever could.

Though I've found great satisfaction in serving homeworld and Commonwealth I sometimes wonder if I made the right choice, advancing my career ahead of my relationship with Alex. Maybe that's why he never saw me off. I must have surely broken his heart and wounded his spirit beyond repair. I wouldn't be surprised if he never forgave me.

The Seven know I can't forgive myself.

****************

16^th day, 4^th quarter.

Sky clearer than yesterday though colder. After deciding the mysterious strangers had the right idea I quickly conducted the morning's business and bundled up to visit favorite haunts around the University before talking an old pilot friend into a Jumper ride to St. Quinn's, promising to catch the last shuttle back to Gateway later on.

The Seekers of Truth make the collection, preservation, and dissemination of knowledge their defining mission, following the example set by Daniel Jackson and Jonas Quinn of Kelowna, in whose name the Seminary was founded. In 80 Y.S. a beautiful campus was built for the Order atop Mount Jackson in the foothills of the Eastern Parenthesis Range.

An Old Earth author by name of Thomas Wolfe once claimed You can't go home again, the implication being one cannot return to a place or person left behind and expect them to not have changed. While he was generally correct given the inevitable progression of time and life experience I am pleased to report the dear old campus has remained the same with its meticulously-kept grounds, brick buildings of mellow gold roofed in red tile and a spectacular view of northern Settlement Valley.

Tower bells chimed the hour in perfect harmony, festive lights winking to brilliance with the waning afternoon. Students spilled out the doors, laughing and chatting excitedly as they abandoned their studies for livelier entertainment in the nearby town of Cheyenne on the banks of Silver Creek. The next day boarding hovershuttles to either Gateway Aerodrome for Sunwing flights across New Earth or the Embarkation Hall for Gate travel to their respective homeworlds.

Ah, the carefree days of youth! I remember spending many a contented hour within its venerable and much-celebrated library dedicated to Saint Igraine [Gryffydd, sometime leader of SG-22 and Chief Librarian of the Daniel Jackson Memorial Library, also patron saint of librarians in Tredecimite canon], filled to the rafters with texts from all over the Commonwealth donated for posterity.

The campus hadn't changed but the library had apparently undergone a complete reorganization in my absence. Where Sociology had been was now Anthropology, or so I was informed by a petite bespectacled student with auburn hair. She grinned and pointed me in the right direction, cheerfully waving away my thanks.

"No problem, everyone loses their way now and then. Hope you find what you're looking for," she added with a wink.

"As do I." When I reached the end of the row and looked back I was unsurprised to find her already gone.

Not long afterwards I was reaching for A Sociology of Ascension when a gentle tap landed on my shoulder. "Pardon me, is this seat taken?" The voice was familiar, and the question- sweet Seven, last time he asked me that was the first day we met in Early Settlement History--

I turned to confirm Alex Bosworth was indeed standing there, in the flesh.

I cannot recall how much time passed while we stared at each other with wonder, pleasure and a hint of trepidation. After the initial shock wore off we simultaneously stepped closer, crossing the small yet improbably vast distance separating us.

"It's good to see you, Odarra."

I swallowed. "You too, Alex."

"I've seen you in the news. Tarrakan Ambassador and Council representative, have to say I'm not surprised. Diplomatic service suits you."

"Thank you. The robes of a Seeker suit you as well."

"What, this old thing?" Self-consciously smoothing the fabric.

Silence fell between us. There was both too much and too little to say.

Finally he cleared his throat. "I'm done with classes for the day. I was about to take a break in the Instructors' Lounge before grading papers. Care to join me?"

"I'd like that very much."

Despite our initial awkwardness we were soon laughing and reminiscing. While seminary food had never been anything other than institutional quality the klah was as excellent as I remember, the bark freshly harvested from the seminary's own bushes, steeped the right amount of time and served piping hot accompanied by spiced Athosian wafers.

The years have been kind to Alex, more so than to myself. Still quite handsome- brown hair frosted at temples with gray, laugh lines at the corners of his mouth, warm brown eyes radiating humor and compassion.

"So how have you been?" I asked.

"Busy. Along with teaching classes I'm working on a new project. Remember old Seeker Coombs and his lectures at the University?"

"Indeed I do. How is the dear doddering man?"

"Passed on last year, Seven preserve his memory. I've been tasked with sorting and preparing his work for posterity. Just recently I came across his treatise concerning major winter solstice celebrations on Old Earth pre-Zero Hour, such as Christmas."

"Which ostensibly marked the apocryphal birth of a noted religious prophet if I recall correctly. Didn't many of the original settlers consider themselves Christians?"

"Yes, until Reverend Stuart Williams wrote Revelations of the Blessed Ancients, which he claimed was inspired by Dr. Grahme's account at the first Memorial. His formation of the Witness Society led in a direct line to the Grand Council of Lectors in 95 which first established the Official Canon and thus our modern veneration of the Felix Tredecim, or Lucky Thirteen."

"Over Dr. Grahme's vehement objections," I felt obligated to point out. "She bore Witness to the end of Old Earth only as a favor to the Asgard, never once believing herself any kind of prophet. Williams likely concocted his Revelations out of whole cloth, infusing it with sufficient elements from the brand of Christianity he preached to lure the credulous and inflate his own ego."

"So skeptical for a Tarrakan. Remember you're talking to a full-robed Seeker, and an orthodox Tredecimite besides."

"As are we all- in name, at the very least. Good thing a curious mind and diligent imagination are the only prerequisites for admission to your Order, instead of any pretensions to religious devotion."

He chuckled. "True. You would've made a good Seeker if the Minister for Offworld Affairs hadn't plans for you in the Diplomatic Corps."

"I could hardly refuse a directive from my own father, now could I?" I dryly observed. "My government paid for my advanced education so naturally I owed it service in return. Fortunately I enjoy being a diplomat. But now you mention it I have often wondered about the origins of Tredecimism, and how it came to supersede Christianity and other Old Earth religions among the survivors."

"Well, consider the tumultuous times they experienced. After Zero Hour the refugees were in a collective state of shock not only at the devastating loss of their homeworld but also their abrupt and unexpected introduction to the larger universe through the Stargate. Thanks to the earlier Uprising against the Goa'uld and burial of Old Earth's Gate the planet had remained uniquely free from their influence for millennia, unlike the rest of the galaxy. While memory of their rule trickled down orally through the ages via myths and legends, to fill the void counter-beliefs arose focusing on strictly non-corporeal deities and the prophets who claimed to speak for them."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because thanks to the Salvaging and Daniel Jackson himself we have access to major texts from Old Earth's religions and mythologies. Using modern comparative analysis we've found a significant Goa'uld presence in older pantheons worldwide- Egyptian, Greco-Roman, Chinese, Aztec and many others. In contrast post-Uprising beliefs hint at intervention by non-corporeal beings representing either divine or demonic forces. Not to mention legends of 'magic-users' such as Myrddin or Morgan Le Fey, though the existence of actual magic was never proven due to a lack of concrete evidence."

"Sounds more like Ascended influence to me."

Alex smirked. "Why 'Darra, surely you're not referring to Oma Desala and the alternate Daniel Jackson in Language of Love?"

"And what if I am?" smirking right back.

Danile Jackson's historical novel had been a bestseller over a hundred years ago, enjoying a modest revived popularity among our own generation though literary critics arrogantly dismissed it as sentimental and over-dramatized pseudohistorical nonsense having little to do with true history. Never mind the author was a direct descendant of the Visionaries themselves with direct access to family records including her great-grandfather's celebrated journals.

"To be honest it's as good a theory as any," Alex admitted. "The Stargate Program and the true history of the galaxy was kept a closely-guarded secret for good reason. Imagine the uproar if word had gotten out to the public. It would've shaken every major religion to their very foundations. Topple whole governments, even."

I found that hard to believe but refrained from saying so out loud. "And after Zero Hour?"

"Except for Captain Andrea Sedgewick as SGC Chaplain and the Rev. Stuart Williams few clergy remained to interpret it all in a fashion palatable for the survivors. Naturally they gravitated towards Williams, finding enough comfort within his Revelations to take it seriously. The Society started out as a discussion group to explore Dr. Grahme's Witnessing, then as an underground movement progressed to reframing old beliefs in a new context."

"They certainly succeeded," I agreed. "But do you believe Williams' assertion that certain gods and prophets post-Uprising had been Ascended in disguise all along?"

"Well, by all accounts the Ascended have a policy of strict noninterference but some must've chafed at the restrictions. Not that we'll ever know for certain. Even Jackson freely admitted in her interviews some elements came directly from family and historical records while others were created- to coin an expression from your own people- out of whole cloth."

"Such as Ascended Daniel and Oma Desala escaping their universe and influencing things in this one. Do you believe such a scenario likely, or was it all merely fanciful fabrication?"

He shrugged. "Hard to say. Even before Zero Hour quantum physicists, history scholars and fiction writers alike speculated on the existence of alternate universes. It wasn't until Dr. Jackson's accidental trip through the Quantum Mirror to an alternate SGC losing the war with Apophis that theory turned into proven fact."

"Not to mention the infamous Ripple Effect when multiple versions of SG-1 visited New Earth by mistake in 12 Y.S."

"True. But getting back to your original question." He sipped at his klah before continuing. "Tredecimism in its earliest form didn't gain traction until after the SGC's missions were declassified and word of SG-1's heroism spread throughout the settlement. Though technically speaking Rebecca Grahme and Angus MacGyver arrived just before Zero Hour, they and Janet Fraiser were naturally folded in with SG-1 to become the Sacred Seven, Heroes of Old Earth and Founders of the New."

"And after the Pegasus-Milky Way Accords were signed the deeds of the Pegasus Six were added to the canon because of their close association with the Seven."

Alex nodded. "Tales of Atlantis Colony and the heroism of Sheppard, Weir, McKay and the rest lasted long after the Wraith ceased to be a threat, inspiring the people of two galaxies. Collectively the 'Lucky Thirteen' became lasting symbols of hope, determination and endurance on other worlds as the Stargate Commonwealth gained influence. Tredecimism spread right along with it, particularly on worlds formerly ruled by the Goa'uld in the Milky Way desperate for belief in something bigger than themselves."

"Filling the void in their imaginations," I mused. "Belief abhors a vacuum. Isn't that what Seeker Combs used to say in his lectures?"

"Why, so he did," with surprise in his voice. "And now we come to our modern era, in two days celebrating Longest Night which supplanted Christmas, Hanukkah, and other Old Earth holidays taking place around the Winter Solstice in the planet's northern hemisphere, which was also Summer in the south. As a side note Christianity itself had co-opted elements from rituals of the so-called pagan religions in order to attract new converts. Why, I've seen references in one of the Seven Stories to kissing under mistletoe and--" He checked herself, laughing heartily. "Listen to me go on as if lecturing to my students! I'm sorry, Odarra. Here we were rehashing old times and got sidetracked right into religion."

"I take no offense, Alex, truly. I haven't enjoyed a conversation like this in years. Council business gets so tedious and stultifying, this is a refreshing change of pace."

"For me as well. And in a Seminary full of students, Seekers and secular scholars that's saying something," smirking at his deliberate alliteration. "Speaking of Longest Night, have you received any invitations yet?"

"I expect Austerro has a tidy stack of them piling up on his desk, though I wouldn't be surprised if he's already issued appropriate regrets on my behalf. He's so efficient I suspect he shares Dr. Grahme's vaunted gift of foresight."

"Well then! You can join me and my family for our party before Midnight Service. The whole neighborhood stops by and we always have a grand old time."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of imposing--"

He waved me silent. "Think nothing of it. The more the merrier as far as my parents are concerned. I'm sure they remember you quite fondly."

"I'd like that very much. Do they still live on Dixon Street in the Harrison District?"

"Nowhere else. Be there by 1900."

"With pleasure."

And thus we parted in harmony, appropriate for the season.

Dear journal, to say I look forward to seeing Alex again is an understatement. We were so good together as classmates and lovers, to the point I almost expected a proposal for tying the bracelet before our career paths pulled us in different directions.

You alone have witnessed through these volumes, dear journal, all the time and effort I spent furthering my diplomatic career serving both Tarraka and Commonwealth to the detriment of my personal life. Everyone else I know seems to be involved in meaningful relationships. Even Austerro keeps house with his partner and their children (adopted and artificially-incubated) in the city.

Today I realized just how much I have sorely missed Alex's company over the years. I wonder if those old feelings can be rekindled.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll visit the closest temple to the Embassy and light a candle for the Visionaries in their aspect as Lovers, hoping a heart's wish from a lonely middle-aged Tarrakan agnostic might be granted. Solstices are supposed to be the most magical times of the year, after all. Anything can happen when the sun stands still.

Besides, as my people say casting a wide cloth to cover everything never hurts.

****************

17^th day, 4^th quarter.

Ambassadorial duties filled the day including final preparations for our upcoming holiday party at the Embassy, a subspace conference call with Korrtano in Neutorral [Tarrakan Minister of Offworld Affairs and Odarra's superior] and catching up on paperwork. A slog to be sure, but bureaucracy's a necessary evil even in this day and age.

Without asking Austerro has already wrapped all my presents and arranged their delivery via special Gate courier in time for Sun's-Returning. Due to the nature of wormhole travel seasons are not often in sync between worlds, and for the winter celebrations of Tarraka and New Earth to coincide is rare indeed.

Which is perhaps why I accepted Alex's invitation so readily. At this time of the year I feel my family's absence so acutely, and while I abandoned belief in the Divine long ago there's comfort to be found in the traditions of home. Whenever possible I make a point to visit my nieces and nephews during the holidays and you already know how much I dote on them, dear Journal, having no children of my own.

****************

18^th day, 4^th quarter.

My conversation with Alex the other day struck a peculiar chord, inspiring me to peruse my father's papers. This morning I discovered one of his unpublished monographs on obscure Tredecimite rituals. Here's an excerpt:

When lifting a glass or a fork to your mouth, or when finished dressing in the morning, or when throwing a ball at the opening of a game, or when beginning or ending the construction of a house, or when beginning or ending a story, or when leaving work at the end of the day, or when burying a member of the family (human or animal), or when looking in the direction of the sunset, it is proper to say the following: WE REMEMBER THE FOUNDERS.

How many practice this anymore, I wonder, or other such customs which have fallen by the wayside due to time and neglect?

There's no doubt the earnestness of Williams' early Witness Society has somehow been transmuted into the current formulaic version practiced nowadays. Alex would point out the bones for our current Established Church were constructed from survivors' fading memories of the old faiths and further refined through two Grand Councils by the Lectors. But why were refinements needed in the first place? And who's the Authority behind Modern Authorized Tredecimism anyway?

Perhaps this is why I became an agnostic, searching for answers only to become disappointed when none are readily found. I never could accept the concept of blind, unquestioning faith in something I couldn't see or touch, mostly content to rely on sound reason and logic.

Still, I can't help but wonder.

What is it that's been lost along the way, during the great gulf of years which separate past from present? Can anything be done to restore the source of pure truth, letting it flow back into hearts and minds unencumbered by agenda and imperfect interpretation?

Questions for the ages, dear Journal. Someday I might indulge my inner Seeker and find out.

****************

19^th day, 4^th quarter.

Formal gala at the Prime Councilor's residence tonight, consisting of fellow Council members, the Domina of Huy-Braesealis and her retinue, high-ranking officials in government and military, captains of industry, religious leaders, luminaries in science and the arts, media moguls and so forth.

A grand, glittering affair, as the society columnists will report in next day's Clarion Call and Weekly Tribune. Also rather tedious as such events generally are.

Tomorrow's should be more enjoyable.

****************

20^th day, 4^th quarter.

Our annual holiday gathering at the Embassy. Smaller and much more intimate but as always my staff upheld our time-honored tradition of hospitality and everyone enjoyed themselves. Some guests even confided to me they vastly preferred ours to the Prime Councilor's!

All this bustle means I've been too busy to light a candle for the Visionaries which is perhaps for the best. Who has time to fall in love amid all the holiday bustle? Despite stereotypes in popular media little opportunity exists for romance this time of the year.

I know how cynical that sounds, dear Journal. But Seven knows I've never had much luck with relationships.

During my misspent youth I fell for a promising journeyman weaver who asked me to tie the bracelet with him. Of course, we were far too young and immature for life companionship so Jorrano and I flung the bracelet a few months later with no hard feelings. Last I heard he's happily in partnership to a lovely weaver from the coast, and they had three children- and now, grandchildren- on the way.

While my father was disappointed by my brashness he fortunately chose not to disown me, and as penance I dutifully followed his wishes. University in Gateway followed by the Pegasus College of Diplomacy on Atlantis, then back to New Earth for an advanced degree at St. Quinn's (with honors, I might add) before entering the Tarrakan Diplomatic Service.

Here I am facing another lost love after decades apart, with no idea what could happen between us. If the Seven know they've been pretty coy about it so far.

I hear temple bells striking the hour and so I must close this entry and prepare for bed. Tomorrow with all its attending mystery and wonder will come soon enough.

****************

22^nd day, 4^th quarter. 0730 New Earth Standard Time.

Dear Journal, is it conceivable that I shall ever again find myself making so extraordinary an entry in this prosaic record of my life? I fear if everything significant from last night is not set down as it occurred the memory will vanish utterly and I would be bereft.

So while Alex remains asleep I shall attempt to make as accurate an account as possible. Be warned, this will take more of your pages than usual.

Yesterday at 1830 I donned the traditional black overgarment and stout winter boots before venturing into the night. From the elevated magrail gliding through the city I could see families below returning from earlier services with their children, dressed in traditional costumes representing the Lucky Thirteen or their friends and allies. A sense of excitement prevailed as the city celebrated the Longest Night of the year and gradual return of light. The snow which had been falling intermittently since early afternoon had mostly eased yet a scattering of flakes drifted down in the streetlights.

This would be my first Midnight Service for more years than I care to recall, and I felt a surge of gratitude to Alex for persuading me to join him and his family. While Meeting Halls on many worlds honor the Thirteen on their respective winter solstices, attending a service within the very heart of Tredecimism on Longest Night itself is an experience never to be forgotten.

Music and laughter filled the air, people readying themselves to see the night through. Same as everywhere else on the planet, even the few colonies of the Southern Hemisphere where the seasons are reversed. All together sending a simple yet profound declaration into the universe: We have survived, we are here, we continue to exist. Standing together as one, seeking light in the midst of darkness.

Sic erit semper, as the Ancients might say. So shall it ever be.

The Harrison District is a comfortable old neighborhood retaining many of the original stone-and-timber buildings from the Founding's early years after the Quonset period. Even the most modest dwellings bedecked for the holiday, lit by candles within to shut out the dark, everblue front door wreaths sporting cheerful ribbons, tall pots displaying long branches of river-willow and drooping goldberry.

Alex's family has deep roots in the district, tracing their ancestry directly to Jake Bosworth of SG-13 and his wife, infirmary nurse Maureen Fitzpatrick. Their house is a comfortable ramble on Dixon Street, appropriate for middle-class academics like his father Jakoby (a retired Seeker) and his mother Mara (formerly a foundational educator). His sisters and their spouses hold equally honored positions in the community as instructors and Healers.

As Alex promised they recalled me most warmly. "Thank you for sharing the holiday with us," Mara said as we exchanged Athosian-style greetings. "Alex really hoped you'd come. For the past two days he's talked of nothing else."

"Has he now?" casting an amused glance in his direction. He was too engrossed in conversation with a brother-in-law to notice.

Jakoby and Mara shared a knowing smile and bid me enjoy the evening before turning to greet more incoming guests.

The place hasn't changed much in the decades since I last visited, a cozy haven fit for retired academics and decked in appropriate finery for the season. A fire crackled cheerfully in the stone hearth- for ambiance only, as efficient Ancient-style quartz heaters warm the house same as any other Gateway dwelling. Lights twinkle on the branches of a traditional everblue tree, adorned with exquisite blown-glass ornaments made directly in the neighborhood by a recent immigrant from Abdyos. Jakoby introduced us and when I complimented the artisan on his work he confided the vibrant colors are due to adding special types of mineral-rich sand imported from his family's homeworld.

Jakoby's civic spirit and pride in his community was clear as he pointed out other decorations and artwork made by his neighbors.

Another enduring custom of Longest Night is the wide array of food laid out on the dining table, seasonal dishes and imported delicacies from all over the Commonwealth accompanied by cups of klah, spiced fruit punch, fizzy berry juice from Pegasus or xocolatl to wash it all down. Brandy from New Sateda was offered in tiny crystal glasses, the potency of which I'm unfortunately familiar due to past hangovers.

At 2000 we promptly gathered in the living area for Alex's youngest niece and nephew to light the thick pillars known as Candles of Remembrance, which remain burning until dawn in honor of all life lost on Old Earth as well as more recent loved ones.

Tears came to my eyes at this point, thinking of my dear father. Though we had our differences I still miss his expansive laugh, warm smiles and generous spirit.

Next followed a charming pageant put on by the children, dressed in the same costumes worn during their earlier service. They enacted a simplified and half-improvised form of that perennial favorite The Arrival on Abdyos when Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson overthrew the System Lord Ra with assistance from the Venerable Kasuf, the Blessed Siblings Sha're and Skarra, and other brave Abdyonians. Thanks to the compassion and valor demonstrated by the Protector and Seeker entire worlds and galaxies have enjoyed their freedom ever since.

The hours flew by in conversation and other entertainments- games, thrilling stories told around the hearth and winter carols sung or played as instrumentals. Near the end we clasped hands and circled the everblue tree, singing the traditional Song for a Longest Night [as transcribed by Alex Bosworth; see the article Songs of the Season in this issue].

Around 2700 we gave one final toast and the party broke up in harmony. The children hung their stockings for Grandfather Goodwinter in his magic flying ship then their parents carried them off to sleep upstairs while the rest of us adults bundled up and headed out into the night.

Despite the late hour there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air as the bells tolled their sonorous summons. We joined the faithful streaming through the double doors of the district Meeting Hall, rebuilt after the Great Fire of 220 according to Jakoby as one of its volunteer caretakers. While modest compared to those of more fashionable districts it nevertheless retains a quaint charm appropriate for the neighborhood.

No sooner had we been ushered to our pews than the Lector announced the opening carol. Tredecimite services on New Earth include more music than on other worlds, reflecting its importance ever since the settlement's earliest days. The whole congregation enthusiastically launched into When Ancients Walked Among the Stars, and- encouraged by the fine voices of those around me including Alex and his parents- I joined in with a zest I had not experienced since attending services on Tarraka as a child.

Apart from an unfamiliar variant reading of Williams' Revelations of the Blessed Ancients the service took its customary course. At the climactic middle a soloist sang Lament for Lost Earth while all candles were symbolically extinguished. A full seven minutes passed in silence and darkness, accompanied by the occasional clearing of throats and shuffling of feet. Spicy incense wafted through the air, blending with fragrances belonging to a recently-bathed congregation.

At 2800 the lighting returned to full brilliance. Altar candles were re-lit by Deacons and the Lector declared, "The Darkness has been banished by the Light of Ascension. We are free!"

"We are free!" we echoed, standing and removing black overgarments to reveal spotless white outfits underneath. Bells all over Gateway pealed their joy while the traditional token gesture of unity was made- a handclasp for the elderly gentleman to my right followed by an unexpected kiss from Alex, leaving a ghostly tingle on my lips. While no less warmly than that bestowed on his mother's cheek I couldn't help but wonder.

We resumed our seats for the second half of the service, appropriate text readings and carols such as Rising to Rebirth, Deep in the Darkest Night, Ascension Waits for Those Who Believe, Who Are the Seven and the simple, moving round of Dona Nobis Pacem, rumored to be older even than Zero Hour.

In conclusion the choir chanted the Canticle of the Felix Tredecim and we held hands for the concluding call-and-response led by the Lector:

May the Seeker and the Witness-- Light our way to the truth.

May the Protector and the Scientist-- Shield us from harm.

May the Engineer and the Healer-- Help us grow in wisdom.

May the Stalwart Warrior-- Keep us strong in body and mind.

May the Blessed Ancients-- Guide us on the path to Ascension.

The bells pealed out their joyous message one final time and I rose and retrieved my overgarment. To my surprise Alex remained kneeling, head bowed. Unwilling to interrupt his devotions I sidled carefully around him to join Jakoby and Mara.

Outside the night was clear with a chill wind picking up. Most of the congregation had already dispersed by now though a few hardy souls remained on the steps, engaged in conversation.

"That was nice," Mara remarked. "I haven't enjoyed Midnight Service in a long time."

"Neither have I," I admitted. "Though there were moments it felt to me like--"

"Like what?" Alex inquired, coming up beside me.

"Nothing I can put my finger on. Something felt missing, for want of a better explanation."

"Maybe because the children weren't with us," Jakoby suggested. "It used to be like a cozy family gathering with them underfoot, adding the right notes of spontaneity and joy instead of all this grand solemnity. Nowadays they have their own special service earlier, down in the basement classrooms."

The wind gave a sudden gust and Mara clutched her coat tighter around her. "Well, it's no use speculating further now, I'm freezing and I still have preparations to make for brunch tomorrow. Let's go home and I'll brew us a nice pot of Athosian Evening tea."

"Better with a splash or two of New Satedan brandy. Warm us right and proper before popping off to bed."

"Actually," Alex piped up, "I think I'll take a walk around the neighborhood if that's all right. I'm still pretty keyed up from the service."

"I'll join you," I said impulsively. "So you won't walk alone."

He smiled. "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

Jakoby and Mara shared a secret smile. "Ah, to be young again and taking a leisurely stroll after Midnight Service, seeing in the dawn. How about you, mother?"

"Oh yes, and strolling right along with you. You youngsters enjoy yourselves, now. Nice to see you again, dear," embracing me. "Feel free to visit anytime. Have a Good Winter."

"I will, believe me. Good Winter to you both."

Our breath steamed in the chill air as we strolled down the street, the darkness broken occasionally by Remembrance Candles glowing through windows.

"A fav for your thoughts," I said presently.

"Is that all they're worth? According to the newscasters inflation is on the rise again," he quips, then sobers. "I was thinking about what you said earlier, something missing from tonight's service. What do you suppose it could be?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Just a vague impression some precious quality has been lost from Tredecimism over the centuries. Perhaps during the Reforms by the whim of whoever the Chief Lector was at the time. I mean, compared to the earnestness of early Witness Society meetings our 'Modern Authorized' version seems rather staid and predictable to me."

"You could be right. Certainly the Seven would've been mortified to discover after bringing down the false gods of the Goa'uld a whole new religion had been formed around them instead."

"As Dr. Grahme implied to Master Teal'c in Language of Love, if I'm not mistaken. At least you regard the Seven as people in their own right, unlike certain of your colleagues who essentially reduced them to mere archetypes."

Alex gave a dismissive flick of his hand. "Those hacks don't know what they're talking about. Of course the Seven were real. I mean, isn't Lady Penarra a direct ancestor of yours?"

"You know she is. The story of her abduction and rescue as a little girl has been passed down in my family over generations. The fact she had been a close personal friend of the Visionaries themselves was as surreal to me as if the Divine decided to drop by our house for tea every Sun's-day. My father did his dissertation based on a transcription and analysis for his degree. Which encouraged my own interest in history."

"Speaking of your father, I came upon that very document in the library last week. Since then I haven't stopped thinking about him and our time together at the University. Coming upon you by chance seemed like a miracle granted by the Blessed Ancients themselves."

"I wouldn't call it a miracle. There is such a thing as coincidence, you know. Though to tell the truth the idea of visiting the Seminary only came about because of a conversation I had the day before in a teashop."

"Well, either way I'm grateful for the chance to see you again. And for your company tonight."

"The feeling is mutual, Alex. I've missed our conversations."

His eyes lit up. "You have?"

I nodded.

He looked like he wanted to say more when the wind picked up again. He shivered and wrapped his Norstrilian wool coat tighter around himself. "Brr. Father had the right idea about that brandy. Say, I know a tavern nearby with special license to remain open until dawn. Care to join me in a hot toddy? Just the thing to bring some life back into our frozen toes."

"Sounds perfect."

The trampled snow was treacherous underfoot but Alex knew a time-honored shortcut through an alley. Just as we rounded the corner a brown-haired man and a woman with dark hair in pigtails- both obviously having indulged in revelry instead of remembrance- entered from the opposite direction, weaving from side to side and singing an unfamiliar song: "A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland. In the meadow we can build a snowman..."

The alley was too narrow for us to pass each other by safely. As we met in the middle the brown-haired man suddenly lurched in our direction, bumping against me with just enough force to send me colliding against Alex.

His arm slid around my waist to steady me. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you." I'd forgotten how wonderful his body felt close to mine.

The offender hiccuped. "Whoops. Sorry 'bout that. You folks okay?"

"No trouble, friend," Alex replied evenly. "The streets can be treacherous at this time of the year. I trust you live nearby, it wouldn't do for the watch to arrest you for public inebriation on a holiday."

The dark-haired woman broke into laughter. "Such a gentleman! Thanks for the advice, handsome, but we can take care of ourselves." She eyed him in a way that made me oddly jealous. "Mmm, nice. Got plans for next weekend?"

Her companion sighed. "Val, quit flirting already. That's not why we're here."

She pouted a little. "Spoilsport. I thought we were supposed to be having fun tonight."

"Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who volunteered us for this part of the gig."

"But all we did was wait in some boring old tavern," she whined. "Not even a dart board or jukebox like at Snakeskinner's when we visited Alpha Base. Word of advice, darling," addressing me, "I'd avoid the local beer, the standards have slipped since the old days. I know someone who can make a much better brew. He can get grumpy about it but he's had centuries of practice."

"Um, thank you. I'll certainly take it under advisement." The whole conversation was one of the most bizarre I've ever had in my life, including the teashop.

"You're welcome. Does handsome here belong to you?" winking at Alex.

"Well, in a manner of speaking. That is to say we used to..." I let my voice trail off. Tarrakans aren't ones for blushing but my cheeks were burning from more than the cold.

She beamed at me. "Thought so. Don't they make a cute couple?" nudging her companion with an elbow.

"Sure do," shooting us a roguish, conspiratorial grin and wink. "I believe our work here is done. C'mon Val, we've taken enough of their time. Let's split. Have a Good Winter, folks!"

Before we could respond the couple- instead of resuming their drunken singing ramble as expected- waved and vanished in a bright flash of light.

Alex and I could only stand there blinking, snow trickling down into an alley suddenly darker in comparison.

Dear journal, I'd hoped that by recounting this bizarre incident upon your pages I would succeed in convincing myself it was merely a product of my imagination. But upon re-reading I can only conclude we'd been in the actual presence of two Ascended Ones. An astonishing encounter but minor in comparison to what happened later.

Alex only frowned, rubbing his chin. "Huh. They look awfully familiar. I swear I've seen them somewhere before."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just a couple portraits I saw once in a book my father had, An Illustrated Guide to the Founders. Wonder if he still has it in his library." He shook his head. "Never mind. Probably just need that brandy more than I thought. Let's get out of here."

We continued on in contemplative silence. It wasn't until we were cozily situated in a corner of the Stone Ring Tavern with steaming hot toddies before us that I dared ask, "Alex, do you believe in miracles?"

"Does it matter whether I do or not?"

"I think it does. I think in light of what we just experienced it matters a great deal."

He looked out the window, considering. "Honestly? I think miracles happen all the time whether one believes in them or not. We're just ill-equipped to recognize them as such."

"And here I thought Seekers of Truth were professionally obliged to be skeptical, and Seeker Historians even more so."

"I am- most of the time, anyway. But unprofessionally I see it as a matter of perspective. Consider this--" He picked up his tumbler in both hands, holding it just below the level of his mouth. As he blew slowly fragrant steam filled the air between us for a few seconds. "See, that was the result of an invisible action- my breath- upon the visible, namely the brandy in my glass. While your average scientist at the Carter Institute would explain it as the interaction of particles too small to be seen with the naked eye, your average orthodox Tredecimite might instead call it an act of the divine on the material world. While to the former it could be proven through specially calibrated machines, to the latter it would be taken simply as an article of faith. Either way they're describing how the surface of the liquid was disturbed. Now which perspective is the more correct?"

"Depends on one's point of view, I suppose."

"Exactly. The same approach applies to history. The chain of cause and effect only seems inevitable in retrospect. While events are happening in real time we have no way to predict which will have an impact on future events or turn into footnotes of little importance. Only through the luxury of distance in both space and time can we step back and see how it is all connected."

"Such as if Professor Langford had not recovered Old Earth's Stargate buried on the Giza Plateau. Or if Dr. Jackson never deciphered the address cartouche for Abdyos, or if he and Colonel O'Neill had been unable to defeat Ra. Or, for that matter, if Old Earth itself had not been destroyed years later."

Alex nodded. "Dr. Grahme would never have Witnessed its spectacular demise, and Stuart Williams never had his 'Revelation' based on her account at the Memorial, inspiring his Witness Society."

His eyes had taken on such a shine I couldn't help smiling. "Huy-Brasealis might have forever remained in hibernation, waiting for its Domina."

"And if he had not provided her the address the Atlantis Expedition would never have raised his sister-city from the bottom of the ocean before she perished. The Wraith would still be the scourge of the Pegasus Galaxy, their numbers never decimated by the Wraith Civil War and further rendered harmless thanks to the Beckett Retrovirus. And so on and so forth."

"So what you're saying is everything leading up to us can be seen as either a chain of lucky coincidences or the result of inevitable divine predestination. Depending on one's point of view."

"Exactly. And it can be seen as inevitable only because this is the story we're telling ourselves, the events which have brought us to this point, namely you and I sitting in this tavern on Longest Night. Counterfactual speculation aside, you could say our very existence is what gives history meaning."

"Which is all very well and good, Seeker Bosworth. But what happens now?"

"So now I want to take you someplace nearby, if you're willing. No, put your favs away," as I got out my wallet. "Think of it as my holiday treat."

"Then I insist you allow me to return the favor with lunch next week at my favorite eatery. I'll even have Austerro clear my calendar for the afternoon."

"Already that sounds better than whatever the Seminary's refectory is likely to serve."

"The food did leave a lot to be desired," I agreed. "Remember the unfortunate offerings in the University's dining halls?"

I'd forgotten his warm, rich laugh. "True! That's why we ate a lot of take-out. Though living on campus does give me plenty of time during breaks for reading and independent research."

"I imagine you must have quite the personal library by now."

"I'm not the only one. Seekers' quarters may be basic in other ways but capacious bookcases are practically mandatory. The Order has always been a casual one, favoring scholarship over worship any day."

"You know, it was our mutual love of books that convinced me we were kindred spirits. Just like the Visionaries."

"So did I," he said softly, reaching out to caress my cheek.

I was ill-prepared for either the naked yearning in his eyes or the thrill shooting along every nerve of my body at his touch. I cleared my throat. "I believe there's something you wished to show me?"

"Yes, just down the street."

Gateway's community gardens are the pride of their Districts, native plants and Old Earth adaptations coexisting to feed both body and soul. The Balinsky Gardens are no exception, famous as much for their sculpture collection and central fountain as the abundance of year-round vegetation.

By this time the snow had stopped, intermittent clouds allowing for light from Patricia- or perhaps Selma, I always confused the two in my mind- to shine through. Legend has it Jack O'Neill himself insisted on naming the moons to honor the twin sisters in his favorite animated series, as if more proof was needed how influence of the Seven and their associates has permeated every facet of New Earth life over the centuries.

As we strolled along the gravel paths I realized we had discussed every subject under the stars except for our personal lives. What we were afraid of revealing to each other?

Specifically, what was I afraid of? Admitting I'd spent all this time buried in work and duty with little room for romance? That he had been the only one to touch my heart and soul as well as body when no one else could? That I held equal guilt for our failed relationship?

We arrived in the central patio, its famed fountain shut off for the season. Within its equally well-known fanciful gazebo carved benches surrounded the customary stone column and copper basin with smokeless eternal flame, the engraved phrase We Remember the Founders its only decoration. The same exists in gardens large and small all over Gateway, including the Embassy's.

Alex and I stood for a while in silence, watching the flickering flame send its sacred light out into the darkness. The air was cold and still, snow precariously outlining branches and draped over hibernating plants awaiting the spring.

A distant bell chimed the hour. Balanced on the cusp between late and early it was a time for honesty. For truths shared between old friends, no matter how uncomfortable.

"Alex--" I began, then hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Has there been… I mean, do you have--" I took a deep breath, feeling the flush creep over my cheeks again. "Is there someone else in your life?"

"No, there isn't."

I stared at him, handsome features outlined in firelight. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I just never seem to have the time. You?"

"Me neither. Friends and acquaintances in plenty but no lovers."

It was his turn to look incredulous. "You must be joking."

"No, I'm not."

He sighed. "Oh, 'Darra. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's nothing to do with you or what we had."

"I'm not so sure of that," he muttered.

"We were young, Alex. It's in the past. Forget it."

"That's just the thing. I never could. To this day I regret not seeing you off in the Embarkation Hall, to show there were no bad feelings between us and wish you luck."

"So why didn't you? I waited until the last possible minute before the Gate deactivated, hoping you'd show up."

"Because I was afraid. See, I was planning to ask if you'd tie the bracelet with me right after graduation. But I couldn't."

"Why not?"

He shrugged, looking away. "Too scared of the future, I guess. While the Order doesn't require vows of either poverty or chastity I knew I could never provide for you in the manner befitting the life you were used to on Tarraka. Your family's estate alone--"

"Alex, I renounced the inheritance in favor of my brother a long time ago. The humble life of a scholar would never have been an issue for me."

"Regardless, I'd somehow managed to convince myself saying nothing would be the wiser course of action. By the time I regained my senses you were already in Atlantis. I was so ashamed I couldn't even send you an apology by databurst."

"And if you had I probably would've rejected it outright," I admitted. "It hurt to think you valued our relationship so little to let me go that easily."

"Then I ask you to please forgive my cowardice. I never intended to hurt you, 'Darra. All I wanted was your happiness. I still do. You're as beautiful as the day we first met."

It was my turn to look away. "You're being kind. Look at me- I'm middle aged, slightly overweight, my hair's turning gray, certainly no great beauty if I ever had been--"

"You were," he insisted, turning me to face him, tucking a strand of my hair behind an ear. "You are. You always will be in my eyes."

His hand lingered on my cheek, sending heat through me to match that of the Eternal Flame. Slowly we drew closer and closer until our lips met, so comforting and familiar it seemed neither time nor space had really separated us.

"Oh, Alex. I've missed you." I never realized how much until that moment.

"My 'Darra," he breathed into my neck, his hands on my back, tracing enticing patterns I could feel through the cloth.

We kissed again. It felt right being in his arms, natural.

And yet.

A sudden fear overwhelmed me, one I could neither dismiss nor articulate.

I pulled away from his embrace and he blinked in surprise. "Odarra, what's wrong?"

"I...I can't...I have to--" Turning and fleeing as if possessed, through the garden and back onto the street.

The streets were empty as never before yet I took no notice, turning at random, driven ever onward by sheer nameless terror. All that mattered was the running.

I didn't stop until distant bells chimed the next hour, gasping for breath, finding myself in an unfamiliar part of Gateway. While not as venerable as the Harrison District or prosperous like the Elite enclaves it wasn't the most downtrodden either.

Which was fortunate but I didn't see it that way right then. I was cold, tired, hungry, and more than a little lost. A frigid gust of wind whistled past me and I clutched my coat tighter about me, trudging through the snowy streets in search of temporary shelter.

By some miracle I spied light spilling through a broad window the next block over; upon it was etched the words Murray's Café. Special license or no it was unusual for any establishment to be open in a neighborhood like this on a holiday but I wasn't about to question my good fortune.

A muscular, dark-skinned man was methodically stacking chairs upside down on tables as I entered. He turned, arching an eyebrow in my direction. "I was about to close this establishment for the night."

"I apologize for intruding. But it's so cold outside, and I need someplace to rest and warm up for a little while."

"Indeed." He indicated a nearby table. "Would you care for tea or klah?"

"Tea, please."

The eatery smelled of spices and stewed meat. I was struck by his innate serenity and economy of movement as he worked behind the counter, so strongly resembling one of the elusive monks emulating the Stalwart Warrior that I wondered if he'd recently left their legendary monastery. Or perhaps the Jaffa themselves who inspired the Order, rarely leaving their homeworld except to serve either in the Commonwealth Defense Force or as Council representatives.

"Are you originally from Dakara?" I inquired.

"Once, but no longer." He placed a cup of tea in front of me, along with a wedge of blueapple pie. "I noticed you require additional sustenance. Ice cream is available if you wish." His vocabulary and diction were Jaffa-precise.

"No, this is fine."

"Very well. I shall resume my task."

The hot food and drink went a long way in reviving me, banishing the nameless fear which had spurred my flight only to leave confusion and regret in its wake.

I set my fork down and sighed.

"The pie was not to your liking?" the counterman inquired, again with the raised eyebrow.

"It was delicious. How much do I owe you?"

"This is a holiday. There is no charge."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I appreciate it."

A regal nod. "You are welcome."

It was growing late, and I should've left him to finish closing up. Yet I remained seated, idly toying with the curved handle of the teacup.

"You are troubled by something?"

"...I am. Nothing that you'd be able to help with though. No offense."

"None taken. I am nonetheless prepared to listen. While this is not a designated establishment for consuming alcohol I have dispensed advice on occasion to patrons in similar emotional distress." He sat opposite me, expectantly. I wondered if he was hiding something under the knit cap covering his forehead.

"Lately I became reacquainted with an old friend. Everything was going well until tonight when we kissed. I got scared and ran off. Now I fear I may have irrevocably damaged our rekindled relationship."

"I see. Perhaps you ought to seek out your friend and make amends before it is too late."

"I suppose, though I haven't the slightest idea how to go about it. At least not without dying of embarrassment first." I yawned and rubbed my forehead, exhaustion rapidly catching up with me. "I should go home. It's been a long night."

"That would be most unwise. More snow is expected within the hour and all public transportation has ceased until the morning."

"A nearby hospitium or Ascension Army shelter then, someplace I can sleep for the night. Do you happen to have a city guidebook or map on you by any chance?"

"I do indeed." He retrieved a worn paperbound edition of Bello's Guide to Gateway from under the counter. It immediately fell open to the fold-out map section.

I spread it out further, realizing my earlier assessment was correct. I'd never been in this section of town before though it was much closer to my favorite place than I expected, about ten minutes' brisk walk by my reckoning.

With luck I could find myself a cozy corner to sleep in then take the earliest magrail back to the Embassy and freshen up before returning to the Bosworths' in time for Goodwinter's Day brunch. If Alex was willing to receive me, that is.

"You have a destination in mind?" the counterman asked.

"Yes, I do. Thank you very much for your hospitality."

"You are most welcome. I bid you and yours a Good Winter." He bowed Jaffa-style, fist to chest.

I returned it. "The same to you and yours as well."

Once out the door it occurred to me I never caught his name. Murray could've been his own or that of his employer for all I knew.

I turned to ask but the front door- along with the entire building- had disappeared, a vacant lot in its place.

A shiver ran through me, not just from the cold.

Then I shrugged and hurried on my way, intent on reaching my destination before the weather got worse.

Ten minutes later the familiar mellow stone of the Daniel Jackson Memorial Library was a welcome sight. Of course the doors were unlocked; it has a longstanding tradition of remaining open to the public at all times, including holidays.

Ever since the settlement's earliest days the Library has been a fixture of Gateway life, and a favorite haunt of my youth while Father attended Council meetings. Every nook and cranny so familiar to me from spending many a contented afternoon among the stacks absorbing the knowledge of two galaxies.

A great comfort to see how little had changed over time.

After nodding to the security watch and duty librarian at Circulation- who both barely spared me a glance over their books- I wandered past the obligatory niche to Saint Igraine and into the Reading Rooms with their famous frescoes depicting the Lucky Thirteen, unparalleled masterworks by Grace Lorne and reproduced ever since in countless forms of media.

I paused before the image of the Witness, her cupped hands cradling a depiction of Old Earth, blue eyes radiating sorrow and wisdom. A great shame so many lives had to be sacrificed in the process. As no explanation yet exists as to why the planet's core destabilized in the first place the topic remains fodder for perennial religion-versus-science debates on the news channels.

Indeed, as Alex said if not for the Lucky Thirteen the Milky Way might have remained forever under thrall of the System Lords, as Pegasus would suffer periodic cullings by the Wraith. It's no wonder Tredecimism spread so quickly throughout the Commonwealth; every world owes their freedom to them after millennia of oppression.

I reverently placed my hand on the image, grateful no one else could see. "Witness and Seeker. Lovers. Visionaries of past and future. Please grant me your insight into the human heart. Help me find my way back to Alex. Help me find the way back to myself."

Of course they made no reply. And why should they? They weren't really there.

I spent the next two hours restlessly wandering the stacks, choosing volumes at random to leaf through and replace, my thoughts in turmoil. A pattern was slowly forming out of all the odd encounters and coincidences but I could not discern its eventual shape.

"Need some help?" A brown-haired man leaned casually against the bookcase to my left, arms crossed over his chest, clad in cream knit sweater and tan trousers of an archaic cut. He hadn't been there a second ago.

"Where did you come from?"

"Oh, just hanging around. Sorry if I frightened you," he added in a soft baritone. "What brings you here on a cold winter's night?"

"To be honest I'm not really sure. Seeking a solution to life's great mysteries, I suppose."

"Which you think you can find among these fusty old tomes?" looking up the bookcase with a fond expression.

"And why not? Didn't Dr. Grahme say in her dedication that through these doors one can experience the entire universe?"

He smiled faintly. "So she did. Only I get the feeling cosmic truths aren't what you're really after. Or rather," with a lift of his eyebrows, "you're searching for something a little closer to home?"

"What business is it of yours?" I snapped, irritated by his intrusive questioning.

He held up his hands in placation. "Sorry, I meant no offense. It just looks like you have a lot on your mind. Would talking it over with someone help?"

"You wouldn't believe me. I can barely understand it myself."

"Nevertheless I'm willing to listen. Please, I'm all ears."

There was something so earnest and compelling about him I found myself recounting everything that had occurred, from the teashop conversation right up to the midnight snack in an eatery that never really existed.

"So what do you think?" I finally asked him. "Is it all connected? A string of miraculous coincidences? Or am I simply overthinking this?"

"Well, I've always believed some truths are best faced with the heart instead of the head. Like someone else I know you seem to prefer starting right at the point. Have you forgiven yourself?"

I looked down, fiddling with the book in my hands. "I'm not sure I can. I'd been so focused on the future I failed to see what was right in front of me, never once considering Alex's feelings in the matter. I know I hurt him terribly. It's the one thing in my life I regret the most. I wish I could make it up to him somehow."

"You should tell him as much next time you see him. Communication is important in a relationship."

"True, but I doubt it'll make any difference. The nameless fear which drove me away from Alex was nothing more than shame and cowardice, I see that now. There's no way he'll grant me forgiveness. Nor should he."

"And yet he was more than willing to ask for yours. Only fair you make the same effort in return."

"What good would that do?" I wailed. "Apologizing couldn't possibly make up for the pain I caused!"

He remained unruffled. "You're right, it won't. So focus on the future instead. You have a chance to make things right, it wouldn't be fair to him if you shied away from the truth out of fear."

"Fear," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "What do you know of fear?"

A shadow crossed over his face. "Plenty. I allowed a planet's core to become unstable out of fear. Billions of humans and their unique cultures along with countless other lifeforms destroyed utterly within months because the idea of being left alone in this universe terrified me. Despite the good that eventually came thanks to the survivors sometimes I wish I'd never posed the question to Desala in the first place."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Nor should you. Doesn't matter now anyway." He sighed. "Perhaps it is better to leave the past in the past after all, which for me is saying something. Or rather a former version of me."

"I'm still not following you."

His troubled expression morphed into a rueful smile. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. We were dealing with your issues, not mine. Do you have feelings for Alex? Are you still in love with him?"

"Yes, Seven help me. I do and I am. I never stopped. But we hurt each other."

"True. And you might again, in many ways. That's the risk anyone runs in a relationship. Love and the potential for loss are closely intertwined. But so is the possibility for redemption and forgiveness, maybe even happiness." His expression brightened. "Anyway, you'll never know unless you try, right? Just follow your heart and everything will work out fine."

"You truly believe that?"

"I do. You might say I have experience with second chances. Third ones, even." He looked behind me and smiled. "And here, I think, is yours. Good luck."

"Odarra? Who are you talking to?"

I spun around to find Alex standing there, brow furrowed. "How did you know to find me here?"

"After you ran off I tried to follow but got hopelessly lost. I wandered the streets for hours until a passing stranger- a Jaffa, if you can believe it- was kind enough to direct me here." He smiled faintly. "I should've known. You used to say in all of Gateway this was the only place you could ever find peace."

"And I have, thanks to this stranger. I'm sorry, I never caught your name--" turning to address him.

But he had mysteriously disappeared.

Just like the couple in the teashop. And the helpful student in the library. And the drunken duo in the alley. And the Jaffa in Murray's Café.

It was then I experienced what I can only think of now as a revelation, whether granted by the Blessed Ancients, Ascended Ones or a product of my own reasoning I cannot say.

For decades I served the interests of homeworld and Commonwealth alike, sacrificing happiness in the pursuit of duty. A solitary existence and to be honest a lonely one.

Yet over the course of a single week I've been forced to examine my life through the lens of multiple strange encounters, or everyday miracles as Alex might call them. And at the end I was certain of only one thing- I no longer wanted to live the rest of it alone.

Because Seven help me, the solution's been right before me the whole time, with so much care and concern- not to mention love- in his eyes it made my heart skip a beat.

Divine and Tredecimite canons both agree forgiveness is a virtue, even in forgiving yourself. A larger truth was hanging within my reach if I but took the chance. Anything can happen when the sun stands still.

I only hoped I wasn't too late.

Alex stepped closer, frowning. "Odarra, is everything all right? You're crying."

"I'm fine," wiping away the tear trickling down my cheek. More traitorously followed in its wake.

He reached out and tenderly brushed them away. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. What happened between us was all my fault. I could only see the path ahead for myself alone. You were the one brave enough to imagine a future for both of us."

"The fault's equally mine. We were best friends before we were lovers. I failed to show my support when you needed it most and I'll always regret that. If I could go back in time--"

I placed a finger on his lips. "We can't. I too wish things had been otherwise but there's no changing the past. After all, neither of us are earnest young scholars anymore."

"Speak for yourself," he quipped, then sobered. "It was never a passing fling to me, 'Darra. What we had was something special. I'm not falling back in love with you now--"

"You're not?" I asked, more than a little bewildered.

He laughed softly. "What I mean is I never stopped. After you there wasn't room for anyone else in my life. I've loved you for longer than I can remember and I always will. I'll go on loving you until the heat death of the universe, if it comes to that. But you ran off earlier before I could tell you as much."

"I know, I'm sorry for that too. There's no excuse for my actions."

"No, but you had reasons. You were ashamed of the past, and scared for the future. Which is understandable though you don't need to feel either anymore. All we have is the present, so we should make the most of it while we can."

He was right, of course. When had he gotten so wise?

The thought of losing him a second time was unbearable. And judging by the look in his eyes the feeling was entirely mutual.

It was now or never.

I took his hands in mine. "Alex, do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me first."

"I do. For everything."

A smile of such tenderness wreathed his face. "I'm glad, because I forgive you too. For everything."

Our fate was sealed when he pulled me close for a long, tender kiss.

Even so I couldn't shake one last nagging doubt as we separated. "But, what if...what if it doesn't--"

"--Work out?" His gaze searched mine. "Oh, 'Darra. Only the Thirteen can answer that. And I have a feeling they'll leave it up to us anyway."

Given this week's events I had my doubts but refrained from saying so out loud. I leaned against him, contentedly resting my head against his chest, having found what I've been searching for without realizing it. All around us was knowledge gleaned from a myriad of worlds, yet the only truth that mattered we found anew within each other's arms.

"You know, I just had a brilliant idea," he said presently, eyes full of mischief. This was the Alex I knew and loved from long ago.

"What an amazing coincidence. So have I."

"If we're going to love each other anyway--"

"--Then perhaps we ought to love together, rather than apart."

"An excellent suggestion, Ambassador."

"I'm glad you approve, Seeker." His grin was infectious.

"Well, now that's all settled I haven't the foggiest what to do next."

"Then why don't we go home?"

"Yours or mine?"

"Mmm, your parents' are closer than either of ours. I hear they host an excellent brunch."

"Sounds perfect."

As we passed through the rotunda I was certain Saint Igraine in her niche winked at me, though more likely just a trick of the light.

We strolled back to the house on Dixon Street as the sun peeked over the Eastern Parenthesis Range. Though the air carried a biting chill it felt more like spring than winter, everything fresh and new, brimming with possibility. Longest Night was over for another year, the darkness lingering less and less every night as the hours of light increase until Arrival Day when, balance re-achieved, it shifts the other way as the world turns in the eternal cycle of the seasons.

Just like Sun's-Returning on Tarraka Goodwinter's Day is meant to be shared with loved ones, opening presents under the tree and basking in warmth, laughter and good food.

Even trading kisses under mistletoe, an ancient tradition Alex and I diligently practiced far into the night. I can happily report while initial results were very promising more research is definitely required- hopefully a lifetime's worth.

Before falling into blissful sleep Alex took my hand in his. "Please, 'Darra. Tie the bracelet with me. Be my life's companion."

"I will," I told him. "With all my heart."

****************

Cheyenne, Settlement Valley, New Earth. 22^th day, 4^th quarter, 310 Y.S.

To begin with, dear Journal, I apologize for neglecting you but your services are no longer required. It recently came to my attention that ten years have passed since the previous entry, ten happy and fulfilling years. Positive proof, if such were needed, that keeping journals is the consolation of the lonely.

Alex will be home soon and as there are only two pristine pages left in this volume it seems fitting to wrap up this particular chapter of my life. I always found the best stories left me wondering what happened next so without further ado here it is.

Our binding ceremony was performed a month later at the Harrison District's Meeting Hall with friends and family bearing witness, followed by a modest reception at the house on Dixon Street. As usual Mara outdid herself with a delicious spread. (While I lack any skill for cooking despite her detailed instructions fortunately Alex is much more proficient. Kisses and doing dishes in exchange for home-cooked meals is a fair trade in my estimation.)

When the time came in the ceremony for the customary honor due the Thirteen I did so with profound gratitude for their role in granting my heart's wish. As we kissed to seal our bond I was gripped by a curious excitement- difficult to express through mere words even now, dear Journal- along with a sense of rightness, the shutters of my soul unlocked and thrown back to reveal a glimpse of the wider universe.

It was then I knew, soul-deep, what has been missing from the staid rituals of modern Tredecimism. And from my own life as well before Longest Night.

Love. For self, for others. For every living thing.

Alex and I live in Cheyenne now, a cottage with enough room for us, our books and the two felines who adopted us, Raven and Hummingbird. While Alex teaches at the Seminary I commute daily to Gateway, conduct my business at the Embassy and in Council then hurry home to my cozy little family.

It's a warm and happy life. Every day we share together is a gift.

Recently I purchased from an antiquarian bookstore a century-old copy of An Illustrated Guide to the Founders complete with original engravings as a present for Alex. Leafing through I recognize several portraits of my mysterious Ascended guides, though there is one particular anomaly- while the Daniel Jackson I met in the library hadn't worn glasses I have the distinct feeling his reason for hanging out was more than just dispensing advice to late-night visitors.

On my bedside table is a reproduced volume of Old Earth poetry. A particularly favorite passage of mine is by one John Donne: No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. I find it a comfort to know some truths are truly universal. Even on a world which had gone to stardust centuries ago there were visionaries who understood the fundamental need for human interaction and connection.

Remember my previous skepticism, dear Journal? Though I wouldn't say I'm a believer the transcendental mystery of life sustains me now, the interaction of the unseen upon the seen. Miracles are everywhere if one knows where to look. All one needs is an open heart and mind to behold the living dream in which we have our corporeal being.

Every restday I attend services at either the Cheyenne Meeting Hall or the Seminary's chapel on Mount Jackson. Not in blind acceptance of current doctrine but to give thanks for the night I learned the power of true love and how it can be rekindled even after decades spent apart.

Modern Authorized Tredecimism has it all wrong. The Thirteen are not distant unapproachable guides in our collective journey to Ascension but instead closer to Danile Jackson's version from Language of Love. The courageous men and women who laid the foundation for our Stargate Commonwealth and later Ascended to explore other planes of existence, returning every so often to aide and abet Destiny in their own unconventional fashion. Giving ordinary people such as Alex and myself the occasional nudge closer to perfection.

Dear Journal, you have my eternal gratitude for being the faithful repository of my thoughts and experiences, my hopes and dreams. I conclude this volume with the fervent wish everyone finds love- whether by choice, pure chance or the influence of a higher power.

It's what makes life worth living.

****************

EDITORIAL NOTE: To the best of our knowledge the above is the final entry in Lady Odarra's journals. In 320 she retired from the Tarrakan Diplomatic Service and remained on New Earth where she devoted her time to home life, charity work and editing her father's monographs for publication through both Astria Press in Gateway and St. Quinn's Seminary, including the one mentioned in this excerpt on obscure Tredecimite rituals which became a surprise best-seller in its time and whose contents are enjoying a revived popularity now. That same year Seeker Alex Bosworth retired from his twelve-year tenure as History chair at St. Quinn's since accepting the position in early 308.

They stayed life companions until his passing in 339, followed by her own six months later the following year. They had no children but were honestly and deeply mourned by nieces and nephews (and grand-nieces and nephews) of two worlds along with former students, government officials and many others touched by their warmth and generosity of spirit. Their number included, we might add, a senior member of our own staff who recently passed into the Light of Ascension.

On behalf of everyone at the Journal we cordially extend Lady Odarra's closing wish to you and yours, dear readers. May you find love and peace no matter the season, and keep them in your hearts for always.

WE REMEMBER THE FOUNDERS.