The Early Days

Chapter 1:

The light from the barren fridge illuminated the dark room.

Major Cameron Mitchell scanned the shelves lazily for a midnight snack. Damn, it had been a long day.

He had just returned home from a test flight with a newly constructed jet. It was a nice plane, but nothing special. It had checked out just like all the others, and his job was done.

Groaning at his selection, he reached into the depths of the fridge and grabbed a beer. He popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig from it as he walked down the hallway in the direction of the TV and couch.

He swayed slightly with drowsiness as he turned the corner into the living room, and his shoulder knocked against a large book sticking out of his bookshelf, and it fell to the floor.

Setting down his bottle on the light table and bending to pick up the worn photo album, he realized the impact had forced it to open and flip over on its back.

He allowed his hand to hover over the object for several moments, realizing he couldn't quite remember what was in this album; but it was dusty and the cover was worn, and he could tell that whatever it was, he hadn't looked at it in a long time.

Curious, he carefully grabbed the book by its spine and pulled it into his lap, taking a seat in his favorite armchair.

The old pages flipped over each other, making ghostly ruffling sounds in the quiet of his den. When they stilled somewhere in the middle of the album, he smoothed the pages gently with his hands and switched on the lamp to study them more closely.

The first picture he noticed was one that made him grin nostalgically.

A young man of about 21 with a large mess of spiky, gelled black hair, (his trademark, he remembered) held the camera out at arm's length so only his face was visible. He was quite handsome, he had to admit. His face was turned slightly and his chin turned slightly upright. His one raised eyebrow gave him a quirky, young look. Cam could tell by the hand thoughtfully stroking his chin that he was obviously trying to strike an intelligent pose.

On the right side of the photo, (what of it that was not taken up by the close up of the man's face) were two other occupants. One of them, Cam noticed, was a younger version of himself.

He had more hair in this picture, and it was spiked at strange angles much like the other man's. His 23-year old face was boyish and without creases. He was raising one eyebrow questioningly and biting into a large slice of pizza. He had obviously not been prepared for the photo.

Beside him sat a young woman with short blond hair. She was leaning in over the table in front of Cam so she just barely fit in the picture. She, like the two men, also appeared very youthful in nature and was wearing a wide grin across her entire face.

Cam smiled, remembering the day the photo had been taken. They had just ordered a pizza and were digging into it when John had decided to retrieve his camera from his bag and capture the moment.

"Say cheese…" he had said, holding the camera out in front of him and putting on his "handsome face." Cam had simply raised an eyebrow, and Sam, who had been equally cheerful as John that day, leaned into the frame at the last minute saying "cheese!"

The memory faded from his mind with the flash of the camera. He studied the other pictures in the collage.

He had an official picture of each of his friends in their dress blues taken the year they graduated from the academy, and another picture of the three of them striking a Charlie's Angel type pose in the middle of the park.

He flipped back a couple pages.

Now there were pictures from their early days at the academy. Damn, they were young! They must have been no older than 18 in these pictures, (well, 17, 18 and 19 actually; John had dropped out of high school a year early to attend the academy.)

The three had been friends for as long as Cam could remember. They had first met at one of Sam's dad's "company barbecues," as he'd called them, (he liked to invite over members of his squadron, and John's and Cam's fathers had been under his command unit at the time).

It was easy to understand why they had immediately attracted one another. They were the three youngest kids at the gathering being 6, 7 and 8 at the time.

Sam hated boys, she thought as she hurled her hat up at the tree branches again, aiming for the red and yellow stripe that was her toy plane. Her brother had done mean things to her before, but this was definitely payback worthy.

"Wat'cha doin'?" a tiny voice asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Sam had detected his presence some while ago and didn't express the least bit of surprise when he spoke up. He was a small boy, and would have been shorter than her had it not been for the large mass of dark hair that stuck up awkwardly on his head. His clothes were too big for him, too—hand-me-downs probably. He was standing several yards away from her, watching with curiosity as she became increasingly frustrated. Sam hated boys... especially younger boys.

"What does it look like I'm doing, moron?" she asked, repeating the word she had heard her father use on countless occasions during business calls. The last time, she had made the mistake of calling her brother a moron in front of her mother. But her mother wasn't around this time, and she had very little patience for annoying little boys right now.

But the boy didn't seem the least bit phased. John Sheppard was used to name-calling by now, and his lips curled slightly upwards when she turned her back on him and chucked her hat up at the tree once more.

"You throw like a girl," he mocked, and he grinned with satisfaction when her next throw went short of its destination and dropped back down to hit her on the head, but she still tried hard to ignore him.

John liked girls... especially older girls. He was the annoying kid in the class who was always teasing girls, pulling their hair, sticking frogs in their desks, and finding new and creative ways to get them to chase after him.

But he didn't know how to make friends, so instead he annoyed people to get attention. John was an only child, and the only playmate he really ever had was his older cousin, Louie.

"Go away," she growled, her patience with him reaching its limits.

"Go away!" he mimicked, in a high pitched voice.

Unable to restrain herself, Sam whirled around and hurled the projectile at John's head. He ducked it before it made contact, and Sam instantly realized her mistake when a wide grin spread across the boy's face, but her temper could not have been controlled.

John spun around quick and retrieved the hat from where it lay several feet away.

"Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me!" he chanted, and took off running.

Cam stood beside his father, a frown of boredom plastered on his face while the two officers conversed. He was staring absentmindedly at the older kids playing football on the other side of the yard. What he wouldn't give to be invited to join them... but at company gatherings such as this one, there were certain rules to be followed, Cam knew from experience; and one of them was the rule abut little kids. Until he was 10, he would be labeled as such, and would only be allowed to "bother" kids his own age.

He sighed. The only younger kids he'd seen at the party thus far were a couple of kindergarteners giving each other piggy-back rides.

Cam would have been happy to give out piggy-back rides to little kids if they asked him, but he was trying to make a good impression for the middle schoolers right now, and he knew he was more mature than they gave him credit for.

"How 'bout that, Cam?" his father's voice interrupted his day dreaming and he looked up. "Major Carter says he has a daughter about your age; why don't you go ask her to play?"

Cam winced, looking back and forth between the general and his father, as though to make sure they were serious. The last time he'd been asked to play with a girl he ended up dressing and redressing dolls for half an hour.

The Major didn't seem to pick up on this though, as he was already scanning the yard for his daughter. "Now, I know she's around here somewhere... I saw her and Mark playing just a little while ago..." he said.

Just then, a screaming child could be heard faintly from the other side of the house, and it was growing louder as the kid came closer.

Cam's eyes widened in disbelief when a tiny boy rounded the corner, sprinting full speed with a piece of fabric scrunched tightly in his fist. He was followed closely by a little blond girl of about the same age, looking extremely angry.

They weaved through circles of people and raced past Major Carter too fast for him to react, and he was nearly knocked off his feet.

Cam watched, open-mouthed as the girl gained on him, then leaped into the air and tackled him to the ground. They landed directly in a giant mud puddle and slid several inches, splattering several people in the crowd, including a very lavishly dressed Mrs. West. The girl stayed on top of him and grinded his face into the muck.

Cam had seen fights before, but this was the first time he had seen so much fury come out of such a little kid.

When he looked back over at Carter, he realized his expression had quickly gone from shock to rage, and he made a prediction that the mud covered girl must be his daughter.

He could see an outburst coming, and so Cam did the one thing he could possibly think of.

With a nervous grin, he shouted "Mud fight!" and ran and dove into the mud like it were a slip-and-slide.

All around him, cheers erupted from the silent crowd as kids of all ages raced for the mud and began jumping, rolling and throwing it at each other. Mud flew in every direction and the general frowned momentarily when he was hit square in the chest by a large mud ball, then looked out at the kids laughing and playing and couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face before he wiped the excess from his flannel shirt and smothered the back of Mitchell's head with it.

Sam, having recovered her lost possession, shook it out and then slopped it over her already mud-coated head. Then, with an evil grin, she formed a mud ball in her hand and targeted the dark-haired boy.

After the mud fight, mothers fussed over their children's ruined clothes and Cam smiled in satisfaction. This had certainly proved to be the most exciting company picnic he had ever been to.

He located his dad in the crowd, once again conversing with Major Carter, but this time they were both laughing and covered in mud. He smiled. He knew his dad would be a good sport about it.

Searching the area further, he noticed the girl from before standing at the trunk of a large tree, staring up at it miserably. The little boy was standing nearby, chucking sticks up at the branches as though trying to knock something down. He smiled at the sight and wandered over towards them.

"And you say I throw like a girl..." Sam commented when one of John's projectile twigs bounced off the tree trunk and hit him in the nose. She giggled. John only stuck his tongue out at her.

"What's you're name anyways?" she asked, picking up a much larger stick and taking aim. She still thought the kid was annoying, but it was hard for a 7 year old to hold a grudge, especially after mud fight-bonding.

"Jonathan," he said absentmindedly, having suddenly become fascinated with some dried mud on his hands. Sam frowned, figuring he may have ADHD or something.

"Don't you have a nick name?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, my name's Samantha, but people call me Sam."

"My mom calls me Joey," John said.

"Ok, then," Sam said. "Joey."

She retrieved her stick again and threw it back up at the branches, frowning when it got stuck.

Suddenly, a large brown ball whizzed through the air and struck the plane dead-on, knocking it to the ground. Sam beamed in excitement and rushed to retrieve her prize while John/Joey leapt up in the air, shouting in excitement.

"Nice shot!" she exclaimed, checking the plane over for damage and then looking up to see who had thrown the football. "Thanks!"

"Sure thing," the kid said with a friendly smile. He was tall, but youthful in appearance. Sam figured he was still close to her age. He was wearing a striped shirt and jeans and his reddish hair looked as though it was beginning to grow out, curling slightly at the ends. She quickly recognized him as the kid who proposed the mud fight.

"Where'd you learn to throw like that?" John asked, eyes popping with amazement. Cam smiled at the younger boy.

"Football," he said, catching the ball Sam tossed his way. "I'm the quarterback."

"I always wanted to play football..." Sam explained. "But my dad says I can't 'cause I'm a girl and he thinks I'll get hurt."

John opened his mouth to add something but Cam beat him to it.

"Why don't I teach you?" he proposed.

"Oooh! Me too?" John cut in, his hand shooting up while he jumped up and sown in excitement.

"Ok!" Sam agreed, sharing the boys enthusiasm, and she rushed out for the pass.

So the three hit it off from the start, and became favorites of play mates even though they only saw one another when their fathers decided to have get-togethers, which was only usually about 3 times a year.

Cam grinned, remembering all the trouble they used to get up to being the youngest: the time they were playing football and launched the ball into the side mirror of Colonel West's new convertible; the time they were playing with Sam's new remote controlled toy jet and it went straight through the second story window; the time they started a food fight with the Mrs. West's beautiful apple pie… good times, good times…

But when they really became close was when they attended the academy together…

Yay! Ok, theres chapter 1 for you. If you liked it, review, subscribe, all that good stuff! More to come soon!