Day Six: Is It Comforting to Be Gloomy?

"I wonder, O'Neill, if Charles Schulz meant to speak for and to those humans who are bowed and weary under the heavy weight of the forced cheer that seems so ever-present at this time of year," Teal'c said when the credits on A Charlie Brown Christmas began to roll, "and perhaps in doing so created one of the most profound classics."

Jack blinked, a lot. He might have been uncomfortable not having the slightest idea what to say but no one else in the room was talking either.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Have I misunderstood the meaning of this story?"

"I mean, no," Jack said, finally finding some more or less coherent words. "That's just a… stark, maybe depressing take on the holiday season. Is that really how you see it since you got here?"

"Indeed. I have seen almost all of you that I have served beside struggle at some point between the Thanksgiving holiday and the New Year's holiday. There is no judgment," he added in an unexpectedly empathetic moment, "because it would not ever be easy all the time when you think about who is missing from your lives."

Vala leaned forward on the other sofa in the room, a festive pillow clutched in her arms. "I agree. As someone not from Earth, this show was quite refreshing in saying that there's no shame in being gloomy as long as you're willing to keep your eyes open enough to see the people around you who are willing to be strong for you."

"I want to say you two are reading too much into Snoopy," Sam said with a wry laugh, "but you're really not. I don't know if I ever looked at it that way, but… I think I did like this more after my mom died."

"Same with me after my parents died," Daniel offered. "Only I still see it the way my parents did, too much near-indoctrination toward obedience to elusive gods. Like, I know what he meant to do and it's nice. I just don't know if I like it."

Cam nearly sprayed a mouthful of Diet Coke. "Are we really going to do a deep dive, Freudian-style psychological analysis of Charles Schulz and the cartoons he drew?"

"Anthropological," Daniel corrected him with a wink, "not psychological. More Margaret Mead than Sigmund Freud."

Jack groaned loudly. "Stop it. I'm with Mitchell. It's a cartoon. Calm down and look at the happy little trees."

"Wrong cultural reference," Daniel pointed out.

"What?"

"It is the painter Bob Ross who spoke of 'happy little trees,' O'Neill," Teal'c supplied, unhelpfully in Jack's opinion, "not Charles Schulz."

Jack closed his eyes and counted to six, not having the patience to go higher. "You're all getting lumps of coal for Christmas. Maybe rotten potatoes. Except for Mitchell. Especially Daniel and Teal'c."

Daniel tried, and failed, to look chastened behind his glass. "Oh good, we got each other the same thing then. That's a relief."

Carolyn watched the entire exchange, as an outsider of sorts, and found herself wondering if it was all that they'd been through together as various forms of SG-1 that made them the heroes they were. Heroes who had to tease each other about lumps of coal and argue about random tangents in the ordinary parts of life. She didn't say it, not wanting coal, but it seemed a lot like Charlie Brown's message.