Flyboys
By Mickey
Status: Completed 1/29/2008
Season: Mid season 4 for SG-1. Early season 6 for JAG
Archive Permission: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own either character. Pity. Flat broke. Don't sue.
Word Count: 432
Author's Notes: Written for the littlestargate list's January 19th Alternate Challenge: Write a little Stargate story but insert a character from one of your other favorite shows - either as an integral part of the story or in a cameo role. Harm has been nagging me to write JAG fics for some time now and I have been trying to come up with a good plot for a JAG/SG-1 crossover fic. This seemed like the perfect opportunity and this fic is what popped into my head. Wow, other than SG-1/SGA (which doesn't really count IMO) this is my first crossover! Many thanks to Annie for the beta!!
Harm kneeled beside the frightened boy. "What's your name, son?"
The boy looked up at him, but didn't answer. It was obvious that he was trying hard not to cry.
Harm estimated his age to be around five, maybe six. He debated reaching a hand out to the child, but didn't want to frighten him anymore than he already was. Instead, he softened his voice and asked, "How old are you?"
The child still refused to answer. He continued to stare at Harm, wide-eyed. Suddenly, something seemed to catch the boy's eye. He reached out and touched Harm's wings.
"You're a pilot?"
Harm smiled. "Yes, well, I was. I still fly occasionally, but not as a job." He intentionally worded his answer to be appropriate for the boy's approximate age. "I used to fly jets."
"My Daddy used to fly jets too. He was in the Air Force though, Commander, not in the Navy."
"Really?" Harm asked, surprised the boy recognized not only his branch of service, but his rank as well. "I flew F-14 Tomcats. Do you know what your Daddy flew?" he asked, not missing that the boy spoke of his father in the past tense.
The boy was silent for a few moments, seemingly concentrating hard on remembering something. Finally, he answered, "An F-86 Sabre. He really loved to fly." He paused and Harm wondered if the kid was going to clam back up on him. Sadly, a small tear rolling down his cheek, the boy added, "He died when I was a little kid."
Harm felt for the child. He knew what that was like. "That hurts, doesn't it? I understand. My Dad died when I was a little boy too. He flew F-4 Phantoms, his jet was shot down."
"That's how my Dad died too." The boy wiped the lone tear away as he answered.
"Where?" Harm asked, curious if the boy's father might have died in Vietnam as his father had.
"I don't remember. My Mommy tol' me but I forgot. It was very far away. I miss him."
"Yeah, I miss my Dad too." Deciding to press the boy again for information about himself, Harm said, "My name is Harmon Rabb Junior. My friends call me Harm. What's your name?"
The boy hesitated, seemingly torn on whether or not to trust him. Avoiding the question, he said, "That's a funny name."
Smiling, Harm replied, "Yeah, I guess it is."
Showing the smallest hint of a smile, the boy said, "I like it. My name is Jonathon Charles O'Neill Junior, but everybody just calls me Jack."
THE END