This Chapter Contains Adult Language

A Holly Jolly Bit of Hell

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

Rated: R

Category: Jack Whump, Jack Angst, Dark, Christmas Reference.

Season: Pre-Series.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: Jack's In Hell, But He Manages To Find A Bit Of Home.

For The Ancient Obsessions Advent Challenge:

December 6 (Holly Wreath)...

XXX

I lost count of the days long ago.

Dates are just arbitrary bits of numbers observed in the rest of the world.

Here, such things don't matter.

Here, every day is just one more chance to die.

One more chance denied to me.

But today seemed just a little longer than yesterday. The sun's been setting a few minutes later every day for the past week. The shortest days have passed. These things I notice.

Must be winter.

Near Christmas.

Christmas… does that even still exist?

Do people really celebrate out there still, while I rot in here?

In this little world of filth and stink and pain, it's hard to imagine that somewhere life goes on.

Somewhere, shoppers worry about whether to get the blue sweater or the green one.

That's funny to me, and I'd laugh if I could. But my swollen tongue and parched lips won't allow it.

Somewhere, trees are trimmed and turkeys basted and candles lit.

But not here.

Here, heat scorches you the moment to see the sun while cold freezes you in the dark.

Here, the air burns your lungs as you inhale.

The sand cuts you a thousand times with every move you make.

There are no trees here. There are no plants at all.

But somehow, in the corner of my dirt-floored shack, I see something I haven't before.

Grass.

Only a few blades, but present nonetheless.

I see it, but I don't believe it.

I'm finally losing what little I have left of my mind.

There is no grass here.

Just as there is no Christmas, and no joy.

There is only pain, hunger, and thirst.

I crawl to the mirage, desperate to see if it is real.

The rough blades seem to almost cut my fingers as I reach them.

It is grass-honest to goodness real grass!

I put a piece in my mouth and I'm rewarded with a tiny bit of moisture to lubricate my swollen tongue.

I know I should eat it all. It's the only nutrition I'm likely to get today.

But instead I stop, as I feel a strange smile play across my lips.

I know I probably look deranged, and I most likely am; but I figure at this point, I'd be crazy if I wasn't.

I pull several of the sturdy blades out of the ground.

I sit cross-legged and study them. A strange thought floats through my foggy mind, and I can't let it go.

It's Christmas.

Out there.

In here, it's merely hell, but while my captors have my physical body firmly contained, they can't control my mind.

Dammit, it's Christmas in here, too.

Fuck them.

I play with the grass. Before I know what I've done, it's arranged in a little circle, complete with a two-dimensional bow.

My very own wreath of holly.

In my very own house in hell.