Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret productions, and Gekko Productions.* This Stargate SG-1 fan fiction story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Jack O'Neill set his heavy duffle bag down in the busy waiting area of the massive train station. He had arrived early for his train to Colorado where he was to begin a new life in the United States Air Force. While his grades in high school had been excellent…not due to diligence on his part, but due to a natural inclination to excel and be a leader…his last little escapade of borrowing his uncle's car and taking it on a rather damaging to public property joy ride had earned him an ultimatum from the local judge. Choose and enlist in a branch of the military or go to jail. Jack suspected jail would drive him insane, so chose the military. Why not see the world, he thought.
Glancing around the over-crowded and hectic terminal, Jack spotted a small boy by the vast row of vending machines. He could not have said what caught his attention about this particular child over the several others milling about with their parents. Perhaps it was the child's intense concentration on the machines or simply in an area where there were so many people, this boy seemed to personify being alone.
O'Neill estimated that the child was eight or nine years younger than himself, putting the boy right at eight or nine years old. Slightly long, dark gold hair framed a face with fine, almost aristocratic features and emphasized a pair of very wide, intense blue eyes. The child was slender although Jack would not consider him effeminate or frail as the bare arms protruding from his T-shirt showed a suggestion of wiry muscle.
Watching, Jack saw the boy carefully dig in his jeans' pocket and pull out several coins which he carefully matched to the prices listed on the drinks vending machine. The boy was equally intent and careful as he slid each coin into the slot and then pressed the button for his selection. Nothing happened. The child stared at the machine for a few moments and muttered what sounded to Jack like an imprecation of some sort although it was most definitely not spoken in English. This intrigued the teenager even further.
The boy then pressed the coin return and retrieved his money as it dropped in the slot below. He again compared each coin carefully to the price listed on the machine and tried the entire process again only to achieve the same results. At this point Jack could not stand it any longer and crossed the short distance between them.
"Hey," O'Neill fished in his pocket and brought out some change, "sometimes these machines can't read the coins correctly for some reason. Let's trade out and see if that works."
Wide blue eyes regarded him with a cross between suspicion, wariness, and relief. Jack smiled, his dark eyes lighting a bit. He had always had a soft spot for children and this boy seemed incredibly special for some strange reason. The desire for a drink and perhaps the genuine caring in O'Neill's dark eyes overcame the child's initial hesitation and he carefully compared the coins in the teenager's hand to the ones in his small hand before exchanging two of them. Jack watched protectively as the little boy once again inserted the coins into the slot on the vending machine and made his selection. This time the child was rewarded as a cold root beer slid out.
O'Neill was once again the focus of the very intelligent and too old for the child's years blue eyes, "Thank-you, sir."
The voice was soft yet clear with a slight accent that Jack could not place. The child was simply beautiful and Jack's desire to help turned into a bit of worry and protectiveness. "You're not here alone are you?" He asked, suddenly concerned that the boy had been abandoned or was one of the thousands of runaways that littered Chicago's streets. Dark circles beneath the boy's eyes did nothing to allay Jack's sudden suspicions.
"No, sir. I am traveling with my foster parents. Our train was delayed. They are at the service center getting it sorted." The child's voice did not indicate he was trying to lie and nothing in his body language suggested subterfuge. O'Neill sighed. It was time for him to go to the landing to catch his train but he was hesitant to leave the boy alone and more than a bit angry with the missing foster parents that they had left him.
"I don't think…" Jack began, planning on stating that he felt he should walk the boy to the customer service center when a tall man in his early fifties maybe bore down on them.
The man stepped between Jack and the child and barked sharply, "Boy! What have we told you about speaking to strangers?" The man's tone held frustration and irritation but no true anger and his eyes appeared concerned.
Yet the child bowed his head and tensed as if waiting for something more. Jack could not take it and intervened, "Sir, he just wanted a drink and the machine wouldn't take his coins. Don't be angry…we just traded quarters so he could have his soda."
The older man straightened and looked Jack up and down seeming to see in him what the child had, "Thank you. The boy tends to be entirely too trusting, but I appreciate your assistance. Come now, we must go. Mrs. Davis is waiting." The man nodded again and set a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder to steer him away from the vending area. As they walked away, the boy twisted around and offered a very shy and hesitant smile that literally lit the handsome features and blue eyes with light, warmth, and even affection.
Jack leaned down, picked up his duffel bag and headed for his train. The chance meeting made him feel that if this tired old world still had such creatures in it as that child, then joining the military to help defend this part of it was a good thing. Perhaps Fate had a plan for him after all.