Shattered Dreams
At first he thought he was staring at a ghost. A ghost of his son, killed somewhere on the other side of the universe and now sitting slum-shouldered at the kitchen table. His sandy hair was disheveled and his face was as pale as death. He wore the same long black coat he had worn the day he had first returned to Earth, only it was a little more battered, a little more worn, that it had been before.
As he stood in the doorway, unable to move or speak with the pure shock of it, John slowly lifted his head and met his father's eyes. "Hey, Dad," he said in a weary voice.
"How did you get here?" Jack asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Wormhole. Moya's waiting on the other side. Took my module down on a stealth trajectory." John straightened with a sigh, his gaze flicking to something on the floor beside him. "I'll be gone before anyone knows I'm here."
Jack tried to suppress a pang of disappointment, but his eyes still watered. "You're not staying?" he asked as he turned and pretended to get a cup of coffee.
"Can't. Wormhole won't be stable forever." John accepted a cup of steaming coffee but didn't drink. Jack waited, but John continued to stare at nothing, his mind a million light-years away.
"Why don't you tell me what's going on, son?" Jack prompted, sitting down opposite John. His son looked again at the odd basket thing at his feet.
"War." John's voice was a hoarse shadow of his once good-natured drawl. "The Scarrans and Peacekeepers have gone to war and they're taking the whole galaxy with them. Jool's dead, and Sikozu…D'Argo." He snorted. "Hell, even Scorpius is gone. All those years I wished I could kill him myself…" He shook his head.
"Stay here, John," Jack urged, reaching over to pat his son's arm. "That's not your fight out there."
John's eyes became sharply present. "It is, because they're all fighting over the dren the Ancients stuffed in my cranium," he growled. "But…" he stooped and drew the basket into his lap. "A war is not place for a kid." A fold of blanket fell away and Jack saw the face of an infant. A fleeting smile passed over John's face as he caressed the baby's cheek. "I need to ask you a favor, Dad," John continued. "I need you to take care of Little D."
"My…grandson?" Jack asked, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. John flashed another small, sad smile.
"Yeah. D'Argo Sun-Crichton." John's gaze traveled back to the infant in his arms. "Aeryn wanted him raised in peace, Dad. Do you think you can handle him?"
Jack blinked twice, realization dawning. "Aeryn is…gone, isn't she?"
John nodded, his eyes dry and empty. He had already cried himself out. "A few days after D'Argo was born," he whispered. "We…we got married, you know."
"Johnny, I'm so sorry," Jack said, his eyes smarting. Aeryn had been such a vibrant person, a driving force… It was hard to imagine her dead. "I'd be honored to care for your son," he said, holding his arms out for the child.
John hesitated, his gaze flicking from his father to his slumbering son. "I will come back," he told little D'Argo fiercely. "I promise. When all the dying and killing is over, I'll come back and show you the universe."
"Of course you will," Jack said quietly, his heart filling with pride. John stood and slowly walked around the table to place the baby in Jack's arms.
"Here," John placed two objects on the table. "This one," he tapped the first disk, "is a holophoto. This one," he touched the other, "Is a recording. For when he's old enough. Or…if I don't come back." Then he got down on one knee and cupped the baby's head in one large hand. "You listen up, sport. I gotta go away for a while, but Gramps here is going to look after you. You do as he says, okay?" He bent and placed a kiss on D'Argo's forehead. "I love you," he whispered. "And so does your mother."
Then he got to his feet and headed toward the back door. Jack scrambled after him, careful not to wake his grandson. "Wait John!" He paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Why?" Jack asked simply.
"Because Chiana, Rygel, and Stark are still up there," he replied, pointing upwards. "Moya and Pilot are still alive. They need me. The whole damn galaxy needs me. I'm the one chance it has to end this frelling war."
"Good luck," Jack called quietly as he watched John walk down the street and out of sight. He returned to the kitchen with slow steps, studying the face of his baby grandson. The two disks were still on the table where John had left them. Curious, Jack reached over and activated the holophoto. An image sprang to life above it, showing Aeryn holding little D'Argo and John with his arms around both of them.
A family.
Jack held D'Argo a little tighter. "He will come back, little one. If there's one thing you need to learn about being a Crichton, it's that we always keep our promises."
