This Stargate SG-1/Flashpoint crossover story was written for fun. Everything about Stargate SG-1 and Flashpoint belong to somebody else. I am not profiting in any way and no copyright infringement was intended. I'm borrowing... just borrowing for a bit.
Story summary – Jack O'Neill goes to Toronto where it's ice hockey, mini Jack, Greg Parker, SRU, more hockey, more mini Jack, Greg & his son, the IOA & CIA, a twin from the past and other SG & FP characters. Mini Jack backstory-what's he been doing since he was 15? (Or as I originally had it - Jack O'Neill, President Henry Hayes, ice hockey, mini Jack, a twin, Greg Parker, more hockey, more mini Jack and another twin. And then add in the IOA and CIA. This story contains a back-story. Mini Jack is now 22. What's he been doing since he was 15? For this story I decided that he's going by the name Jon O'Neill.) Yeah I know, it's kind of the same. LOL Had to say something AND make it fit in the summary box for the crossover category.
Story time frame – Late September 2010
Content warnings - No profanity, no adult situations, no violence, no pairings (Rated K+)
Spoilers – Definitely for Stargate SG-1 season 7 episodes "Fragile Balance," "Heroes part 2," "Lost City part 1," "Lost City part 2," "New Order part 2" and "Evolution," and possibly for other SG-1 episodes. Definitely spoilers for Flashpoint season 3 episode "Jumping at Shadows."
Note: This might have been two separate stories or even three, but I put it into chapters instead. Flashpoint comes in at the end of chapter 2.
Story title: Sharing the Dream
Jack O'Neill gazed at the man towering above him. It was the end of the second period and the score was 2-1 making it a good game by almost any standards, and like so many others around him, he had just been thinking about getting up to stretch his legs and his back and everything else that had stiffened while he had sat glued to his seat watching the game. The hard plastic was not exactly uncomfortable and five rows off the ice on the blue line was a more than decent seat for a short notice game day ticket buy.
Even though the man was dressed in stonewashed 505s, sport shirt, lightweight jacket and Doc Martens, Jack identified him as secret service. After a quick glance around to see if there were any other people he recognized as agents, Jack pulled himself up slowly from the molded seat with a soft groan and in a low voice asked, "I take it you want me for something?"
The agent didn't look surprised that he'd been identified and lifted his hand revealing a white card embossed with the White House seal. Jack took the business size card from him and turned it over revealing a handwritten note that stated simply, "Jack. 10 min. HH."
Leaning in a little, the agent whispered, "He'd like a word, Sir," before the look from Jack encouraged him to give more detail. After all, had they come for him to take him back to the White House or was he expected on a secure phone line somewhere? Or more important to Jack, was he going to miss the final period? The agent understood immediately and volunteered, "He's here, in a suite upstairs," and then he stepped toward the aisle indicating that Jack should go with him.
Two seconds to stretch and then Jack was following the agent down the few steps and out to the concourse where they wound their way through the large crowd of fans looking for food, drinks and restrooms, or possibly heading to an exit to go out for a smoke. Jack wasn't aware of another man, also casually dressed, shadowing them until they boarded the elevator. In only a few seconds the three men were walking along a fancy suite level where agents were stationed at regular intervals and there weren't any other hockey fans. Outside a door on their left were two agents who stepped into Jack's path, blocking his entry just as President Hayes called out for them to let him into the suite.
The agents responsible for his safety rarely did what the president wanted. Jack had experience with their methods and knew what was coming next. There wasn't a metal detector, but an agent had a wand to swipe over him and knowing what he should do, Jack reached slowly into his pants pocket making sure the agent was watching him the entire time. Trying not to smirk, Jack told him, "I have a pocket knife," as he deliberately brought out his hand, palm up for the man to see what was in it. A small blade Swiss Army Classic rested in his hand, the white cross visible against the slightly worn red body. The agent took Jack's jacket and the pocket knife from him to get a better look and turned it over in his hand, revealing the engraving from so many years before. Jack didn't volunteer and the man didn't ask before he smoothly pulled out the six small tools. Satisfied it wasn't anything truly dangerous, even though a small blade, small scissors and a small nail file could be considered weapons, he waited for the hand wand and pat down before handing back both items. All the agents knew that Jack had hand-to-hand skills that were far more lethal than anything associated with the small pocket knife and moved away from the door opening to let him pass.
Jack stepped into the room where three of his senses were immediately tweaked. The television volume was fairly high, something smelled pretty good and most of the people in the suite were dressed in red, white and blue, the Capitals colors. Jack was familiar with all types of food offered at sporting events and the food in the suite smelled fancier than anything for sale to the ordinary fans, except in the restaurants. Having not eaten for a while, Jack was suddenly hungry.
He saw plates, bowls, silverware and large white napkins next to food warmers on a buffet counter and a man was standing in front of the open refrigerator in the kitchen area. There were half a dozen agents standing around the suite dressed in black suits and President Henry Hayes was seated in an arm chair across from a man that Jack recognized as Ted Leonsis, the majority owner of the Washington Capitals, as well as the Mystics and the Wizards. The room had to be at least double the size of the normal VIP or executive suite which made sense to Jack because if he was the team owner he'd want a bigger suite too.
His ears drew his eyes to the two very large flat screen televisions mounted on opposite walls before he noticed the theater style seats looking out to the arena where at least a dozen adults and half a dozen kids were seated. Jack didn't have time to try to figure out who the folks might be because the President, dressed in slacks and a golden bear golf shirt, was greeting him. Leonsis had also stood up and after a handshake where he was introduced as Jack O'Neill, not Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill, which suited him just fine, and after a few pleasantries about the game and the suite, he had been convinced to stay for a while and have a bite to eat.
It was free and the good smells were hard to ignore so soon he was loading his plate with savory short ribs, spicy meatballs, jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and wrapped in bacon, seasoned potato wedges and Greek salad. Choosing what to eat would have been harder if he'd gotten there earlier he was told by a woman tending the warmers, because there had been seasoned meat and shredded lettuce, tomato and cheese for make your own tacos, BBQ pulled pork with sesame seed buns for sandwiches and chicken strips which had been snagged by many of the secret service agents and the younger children. Jack didn't know if all the VIP suites had that many main course selections, but he did know that what was there now smelled pretty excellent. He moved to the salads and snacks and found mustard potato salad, coleslaw, tortilla chips with dip or salsa, cashews, macadamias, pretzels, Goldfish crackers and green olives, and Jack was informed by more than one person that the dessert cart would be coming around.
Everything looked good and everyone was friendly, and soon he was setting his plate on a bar height round table and thinking about what to drink when the President joined him, toting his own plate and two bottles of Guinness. Jack thanked him and they sat down to eat and chat in the few minutes before the start of the third period.
With so many people in the suite and two loud televisions, it was easy for the two men to have a somewhat private conversation, but they were still careful about what they said.
The President smiled, asking "How long since you talked to him?" before taking a bite of potato salad.
Jack mentally kicked himself because he should have known that the President would have figured out that he was there to see the kid. Just like with Hammond, nothing got by the President. "A couple of months," Jack replied before enjoying a bite of salad.
Hayes nodded, nibbling on nuts. There was a minor disturbance at the door as a man entered carrying two large pizza boxes and he muttered "Mr. President" as he passed by to join the people in the theater seats where the kids were jumping around squealing about pizza. The President chuckled before turning his attention back to Jack and asking, "I'm sure there's plenty. You want some pizza? I think he said he was getting one with double pepperoni and one with Canadian bacon and pineapple."
Jack shook his head saying, "No thanks, that's okay," because he could have pizza anytime, and popped a potato wedge into his mouth.
He smiled as one of the kids ran by the table before an agent could grab him and the pizza delivering Dad was there immediately to reign in the boy and walk him back to the others. The agent didn't return to his original post, staying closer to the President instead. Jack noticed that he was close enough to hear, but he was one of the agents who had been with the President's detail in the White House when the hologram of Anubis had appeared. Jack knew that he and Hayes would still be careful, but at least the man knew about the Department of Homeworld Security and at least a little about aliens.
They ate in a silence for a couple of minutes before Jack expounded on his answer about communicating with his clone. "Jon sends an encrypted email to me every couple of weeks," meaning that they stayed in touch more often, just didn't always talk. "I reply to him when I have time."
The minor barb wasn't missed by Hayes who knew that it had as much to do with what the kid was doing with his life as it did Jack's busy schedule. The kid was living Jack's childhood dream of playing in the National Hockey League. Jack had learned to skate a month after learning to walk. As a talented young skater he had participated in a city ice hockey league, where he and the other boys talked about the Blackhawks, Bruins, Red Wings, Canadiens and Maple Leafs, and finally in 1967, when Minnesota got the North Stars, the boys were able to see a game or two. At night when he slept, Jack dreamed of either scoring the winning goal or preventing a tying goal as his team won the Stanley Cup, until in a nightmare week he broke both of his arms. In the hospital following surgery, 15 year old Jack had known that he would never play professional hockey. Now his childhood dream, and by proxy Jon's dream, was being fulfilled.
Glancing around to make sure everyone else in the suite was occupied and except for the agent, out of hearing range, Hayes stated, "You're going to the IOA meeting next week in Toronto." Jack eyes lit up; he should have known the President was aware of the IOA meeting change, even though it had only been finalized that afternoon. He also suddenly remembered that tomorrow Air Force One was taking the President, First Lady and others across the Atlantic on a 12 day goodwill trip so Hayes wanting to talk to him in person now made a little more sense.
Hayes could tell that Jack had figured him out and he asked, "Any chance the Maple Leafs will be playing at home?" before popping an olive into his mouth.
Jack smirked. Of course the President would know that the Maple Leafs would be playing at home and also that Jack had suggested changing the date of the meeting. "Yes, Mr. President." He didn't wait before explaining. "I had already checked the schedule before I asked everyone else about the date." He paused, wondering if Hayes would say something and when he didn't, Jack offered more. "Those meetings are torture, even only twelve times a year, more often in emergencies, and since I have to go to the meeting in Toronto, I figured… it's the kid, Sir," and smiling he added, "And it's…. you know… it's hockey."
The President recognized Jack's self satisfied smile; the one the man used so naturally when he was right, knew that he was right and wanted everyone to know that he knew they knew that he was right. Hayes looked into the self assured eyes of his head of Homeworld Security and grinned. He couldn't fault Jack for trying to make things a little more palatable. It was torture to deal with the IOA on a good day and his head of Homeworld Security worked long hours, sometimes not going home, and rarely took time off. George Hammond had been the same way. It didn't matter when the meeting was held and as long as the IOA didn't care, Hayes wouldn't care either.
Thinking about his late friend reminded the President about something else. "I'm glad you reminded the Joint Chiefs... and me about updating his paperwork." Jack nodded solemnly, acknowledging the statement.
George Hammond's name along with the former President and previous Air Force Chief of Staff had been on everything relating to Jack's clone. It wasn't that everyone had forgotten. It was that they hadn't thought about the kid. He wasn't scheduled to resume his Air Force career for a while and it was a case of out of sight, out of mind.
Jack offered, "He said he'd be glad to come in early if he gets hurt playing hockey or if we need him." He knew that everyone, including the kid wanted to stick to the planned timetable.
Hayes shrugged, admitting that it could be possible, but it was going to be tricky enough selling the young man as a major at 25 or 26, let alone at an even younger age. "Let's hope we don't need him early," he muttered, not wanting to contemplate what might necessitate activating him early.
It was midway into the third period of the pre-season game and Jack was still in the suite. He'd enjoyed the food and beer immensely and also the conversations with both President Hayes and Ted Leonsis. The three had discussed hockey, but also basketball since Leonsis owned both the Wizards and Mystics and they played at Verizon Center. Leonsis had been surprised at what Jack knew about women's basketball, but the President had merely looked smug, knowing from experience to never underestimate what Jack O'Neill might know about a subject.
When the dessert cart arrived, they had discussed after meal delicacies with Leonsis insisting that Jack try lemon meringue pie or death by chocolate cake or chunky cookies or a hand dipped caramel apple coated with nuts or any of the other dozen choices. The man even came back from the kitchen with carry boxes for Jack and the President to take a couple of desserts to go and Hayes made two selections for his body man while Jack scooped up a cookie variety pack for himself for later and a piece of cake for his driver.
The score was still 2-1 and the game was almost over. The kid blocked a shot, chasing after the puck before going down hard on a check and he watched as the younger man was up and racing to the other end of the ice before he even blinked. The kid had played almost the entire game and didn't look tired at all. His springy, flexible body was serving him well and Jack couldn't remember having that same effortless speed or reach with the stick.
Jack noticed the President looking at him, read his unspoken question and probable quip, and then with mirth smirked back at him. Yeah, he was jealous, but not because the kid was playing professional hockey. He was jealous of Jon's younger body with perfect bones and a mind with only memories of the two broken arms, concussions, skull fractures and other broken bones. Jon had only the memories of surgeries and sutures too numerous to count and only memories of scars from the operations, the fists, bullets, shrapnel, staff weapons, knives, a Reetou weapon, a Salish arrow and a Goa'uld symbiote, and Jack mentally shook himself to end the list prematurely.
None of it was important because the kid's young body was perfect and except for bumps and bruises, he'd had no fractures, no pulled tendons, no stretched ligaments, no torn meniscus, no thinned or worn out cartilage, no seriously strained or torn muscles, no traumatic ruptures or detachments, no sprains, no major bleeds, no significant cuts or abrasions, not even a hangnail. And he was still too young for arthritis. To say Jack was jealous was an understatement, but that didn't keep him from being happy for Jon. The kid was living their dream, and it was sweet.
TBC
Thanks for reading.