Christmas Present
by Pho
"Tape! Where's the... Oh. There it... Oh, for crying out loud, ya need three hands to do this!" Jack, completely forgetting the spirit of Christmas, cursed under his breath as he tore the wrapping paper for the third time in a row. Sitting back on his heels, he stared in dismay at the chaos surrounding him. The wrapping paper he'd purchased at the grocery store was *not* of the best quality. Granted, Santa did dance merrily among his reindeer on the roll, enticing last-minute shoppers to take him home. A decision which seemed both wise and time-saving - look, dear, wrapping paper and milk in the same location - until the roll was rendered useless by tears and wrinkling when the paper was shaped around the present.
Then there was the tree, a blue-green spruce, purchased at a discount at the same accursed grocery store. Its outstanding color and shape disguised the fact that it actually listed to one side, but with a no return policy, he was stuck. He had succeeded in shoring it up with a brick - thank God for tree skirts - and the presents already in place around its base made the lump under the red material barely noticeable. The decorations were hand-me-downs, some from his mother, some from Sarah, some from...he wasn't really sure, but the words 'thrift shop' kept coming to mind. Even the tree-topper was a little off - a smiling angel with dark hair and a decidedly crooked halo that no amount of rearranging would fix.
The inside lights flickered briefly as the automatic timer turned on his outside lights. Jack really hoped the Santa he'd positioned next to the chimney was still there and lit. The four little girls across the street had stood with open-mouthed astonishment as he'd dragged the plastic Saint Nick onto his roof. Frowning as the lights flickered again, he made a mental note to have Carter check the circuits. Wouldn't do to have the power go out while he was heating up his famous salsa surprise.
So far, the presents were the only thing he was certain he'd done correctly. He had no doubt that he'd chosen just the right gift for each person on his list. Of course, he'd had plenty of time to give the matter proper consideration. Days and weeks and months and yea... nope, wasn't going there, but even Carter with her brilliant mathematical mind could find no way of determining just how long they'd been stuck in that infinite time loop. Shuddering slightly, he realized once more that he'd never, ever willingly eat Fruit Loops again. Even the name made him cringe.
Picking up a huge pottery urn, he smiled as he ran his fingers over its smooth surface. It had taken him more loops than he cared to count to actually create a handmade urn that hadn't collapsed. And even more to get the delicate colors in the bands right. He'd always been fascinated by the magic of the potter's wheel. Jack grinned more broadly as he realized that he had the loop to thank for the opportunity to learn the craft. The urn he'd chosen to give his major would compliment the decor of her apartment. Carter would love it, but wrapping it would be a bitch. Sighing, he put it down. He'd just have to figure out something later. Surely with all this paper, some of it could be... Paper? Oh God!
Dropping to all fours, Jack frantically swept through the reams of material on his floor. The envelope had to be there. It was so damn small that he should've left it on the desk. But no, he'd wanted to wrap it too. Not that it would matter to Teal'c. The Jaffa had never quite grasped the Tau'ri need for 'concealment of their bequests'. A gift without the strings of political intrigue had been a foreign concept to the former First Prime of Apophis. Even four years of exposure to the Tau'ri and their customs had not yet lifted all of the shadows from his heart, but that didn't keep his friends from trying.
"Ah ha!" His hand wrapped around the small white envelope and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. The tickets were still inside. Good. They'd been expensive, but worth it. Teal'c had enjoyed their juggling sessions, to the bemusement of Daniel, while in the loop, and even though he hadn't truly become proficient at it, the colonel suspected that he practiced when alone in his quarters. Jack was absolutely certain that Teal'c would be spellbound by The Flying Brothers Karamozov, the foremost juggling team in the world, coming to an auditorium near them in January. Okay. No wrapping for this one. Sticking a bow and a sticker with Teal'c's name onto the envelope, he pierced the top of it with an ornament hook and carefully positioned the gift on his tree.
Well, that was two down. Jack frowned for a moment at the unwrapped urn. "Okay, make that one and a half." Turning his back on the urn, he reached for a very large tome. "Yes, Daniel I *do* know what that word means. Ha!" Glancing at the title page, he added thoughtfully, "Even if I don't have a clue what this says. And why the hell am I talking to myself?" Shaking his head, he thumbed casually through the pages, absently seeking something in English amid the variety of wrongly shaped letters ... if that's what they really were. They sure looked funny. Odd, he'd thought Latin had an English alphabet ... or ... at least something along those lines. But these were squiggles pretending to be letters. And he should know. He'd had one too many loops under his belt in Daniel's lab, exploring the language of the Ancients. And in each loop, one of Daniel's reference books had come into use more than any of the others.
Well-worn would have been too kind as a description of its condition. Jack smiled to himself as he checked the faceplate once more. It had taken him twenty-six, or was it twenty-seven, loops to even be able to remember enough of the title to start an Internet search for its replacement. And what a replacement. The odd little man in the very small, but exclusive out-of-print bookstore had assured him that this book contained all the contents of the original and more. Much, much more. For the price he'd paid, Jack really hoped it was true.
Now what to wrap it in? The Santa paper? No, not for Daniel. The poinsettias? Nope. A small scrap of brown caught his attention and he pulled from the bottom of the stack a small roll of well-made paper. Surely this hadn't come from the ... no, this was a purchase from the little blue-eyed boy down the street. The one who'd been raising money for his childrens choir to go to New York City. And the pattern was perfect. What better for an Egyptologist than a paper depicting the Biblical scenes, from the Star of Bethlehem to the desperate flight into Egypt. The hastily applied gold bow and silver tag completed the gift, and Jack's knees creaked badly as he rose stiffly from the floor to position the heavy gift among the others already under the tree. Just how long had he been at this?
Jack did a couple of back bends to straighten out the kinks. At least the next package he could wrap at his desk. The small box and envelope destined for General Hammond would be easy to wrap. And he had just enough holly wreath paper to do the job. As he examined the designer golf balls, presumably from famous courses around the world, he grinned at the memory of Hammond's face each and every time he and Teal'c had teed off into the 'gate. The expression of complete disbelief and total outrage had varied little from loop to loop. Of course, Jack had never been certain if the disbelief came from their unorthodox, and unauthorized, use of the 'gate or from his own choice of attire. So he was a traditionalist. Sue him. The knickers and the matching hat gave him a sense of playing in the shadow of the legendary Bobby Jones.
The gift certificate envelope was exactly the same size as the box of golf balls, and Jack carefully taped the blue envelope to the top of the box. The general would be extremely pleased with the gift certificate for a name brand driver. Thank God he hadn't had to actually get the club himself. Wrapping it would have made the damn urn look like a piece of cake. Choosing a driver was like choosing a handgun, the prospective owner needed to check the feel and balance of each for himself. Jack was certain his commanding officer would enjoy the selection of the club nearly as much as he'd enjoy using it. He was also grateful to the staff of the SGC for the donations for the present. Without them, the hole in his bank account would be unusually deep.
The holly wreath paper Jack had chosen was a private joke only he ... okay, Teal'c and he ... would get. The circles of holly were the closest thing he could find to a Stargate, and he took great care to center one of the wreaths on the top of the box. A small red bow and tag in the upper left-hand corner added the necessary finishing touches. Plopping it down on the tree skirt with the rest of the gifts, he looked around for anything he'd missed. Blast! The urn. Well, maybe he ... oh, the Doc's. He'd almost missed the little box among the loose scraps of paper.
Smiling, he realized that he'd gotten lucky with Janet's gift. Of all the people on his shopping list this year, she'd proven to be the most difficult. Until he'd overheard her complaining about her missing penlight. The one that had mysteriously vanished about the same time that the looping cycle had been broken. His smile widened into a huge grin, knowing that she suspected him of being the thief, and that, for once, he was innocent. He had his own suspicions, but wild horses wouldn't be able to drag it out of him.
The powers that be had denied Janet's request for a replacement light while approving the purchase of adult diapers ... that she hadn't ordered. Her normally mild temperament had not been quite the same since. Yep, the Doc would love this new, state-of-the-art penlight ... whatever the hell that meant. The best part was it was absolutely guaranteed to please, even if it took three tries to get the poinsettia paper to behave correctly.
Sighing with relief as he placed the gift under the tree, Jack checked his watch. Sweet. He had less than an hour before the first guests were due to arrive. But all he had left was to trash the remaining scraps of paper, put away the scissors and tape, change clothes and heat up ... Oh shit. The urn. Turning, he found the offending object standing alone by the coffee table. How the heck was he gonna wrap it? If he'd thought about it, he'd have taken home one of the large packing boxes, but no, Colonel Jack O'Neill had been too anxious to get away from the mountain to remember packing materials.
Studying the urn closely, he realized that it would look great by Carter's fireplace, filled with bamboo or some other tall reedy plant material. Snapping his fingers, Jack dashed out the back door, scissors in hand, returning a moment later with branches from his holly bush - darn thing had needed trimming anyway. The foliage was perfect positioned in the urn, held in place by the scraps of wrapping paper, and properly watered of course. Eat your heart out, Martha Stewart.
Throwing the scissors and tape into his desk drawer, Jack hit the shower. The outfit of the evening was a red sweater with black trim, black jeans and black boots. In record time, he was dressed and back in the living area inspecting his living room with military precision. It had been years since he'd given a large party during the holidays, but the never-ending same-day loops had taught him not to take anything for granted. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, the mantel was covered with Christmas cards, and the requisite nativity scene occupied a corner table where the three-legged sheep rested against the wall. Flipping the light switch near the tree, he smiled as the lights blinked merrily on and off, their reflection dancing in the sliding glass doors.
The doorbell chimed loudly and Jack answered the summons; eagerly admitting a half-dozen or so of his co-workers. His guests quickly made themselves at home, unloading their contributions to the foodstuffs onto the table and counter before casually tossing overcoats and gloves into the spare bedroom. Before the first guests could settle into conversation, the doorbell chimed again, answered this time by one of the earlier arrivals while the colonel put on his borrowed collection of Christmas CD's. The laughter behind him brought a smile to his lips. His team had arrived, and was in very good spirits, if Daniel's mood could be used as a barometer. Jack smiled as he circulated among his friends. The time loops were gone forever, eliminated with the termination of the Ancients' device. As in the Dickens tale, Christmas Past was gone forever and Christmas Future was merely a vision of possibilities as yet unfulfilled. It was, after all, Christmas Present that truly mattered.