Changed

Summary: A look into what Jack must have been thinking during the episode Terra Firma.

Disclaimer: I don't own Farscape.

This is my first Farscape fic so please be gentle :)

.oO***Oo.

Jack was understandably nervous. He was about to meet his son who, up until just under a month and half ago, he and the rest of the world has assumed dead for nearly the last 4 years. The alien woman told him (in English, he still found that amazing) the ship his son was away on had just gotten back and he would be walking in at any moment. Jack was almost sure this was a dream. He'd woken up from this dream many times over the last four years only to return to the cruel reality that his son was dead.

But now he heard approaching footsteps behind the door.

The footsteps paused for a split second before resuming although they were slower than before. More cautious. As though the person walking had somehow sensed there was something out of place on the other side of those doors. The footsteps probably didn't belong to his son then, John had always just walked right into a room not worrying about who was in it... if he'd even have been able to tell there was already someone there in the first place.

And yet...

It was John that came through the doors.

Jack saw him first with the eyes of a father. He saw the same man that had gone missing. The light in his eyes, the quirky smile, he even had the same haircut (or close enough Jack couldn't tell the difference between the old style and the new one). He nearly laughed with relief at the familiar way his son's eyebrows twitched to a frown for a fraction of a second the way they always did when he was confused.

But then the rose colored glasses came off and Jack began to see with the eyes of reality, not the eyes of a father.

In the blink of an eye the confusion was replaced with suspicion and distrust. Looks Jack had rarely, if ever, seen on John's face. His son was the trusting sort, almost always giving people the benefit of the doubt and extending a hand of friendship. Even to strangers. Now he was pointing what Jack could only assume was some kind of gun at his own father and looking at him like he was trying to determine how much of a threat he was.

"Was it a bass or a trout?" he asked. Jack didn't understand the question but clearly it held some significance because the alien woman came forward and told John they weren't imposters.

He lowered the gun, but Jack could tell he still wasn't relaxed.

John called out for someone to join them. He was watching them all carefully as whoever he called for approached the doors he had just come through. Jack didn't notice the challenging look his son was giving the group of humans, as though he was daring them to see exactly what he'd do if they made one move against the... aliens? People? Friends? ... who came to stand behind him.

Several days later, his son showed him the gun he'd pointed at him. Wynona, he called it, his "pulse pistol". The realization his son had named a weapon was a heart wrenching one. People named things they used often. People named cars, boats, favorite pens, lucky pencils, Jack had one teacher in high school (decades ago as it was) that named her desk.

People named objects. Soldiers named weapons. Fighters who spend their days battling for their lives named their weapons.

Jack was not blind, nor was he an idiot, and whether his son put it to words or not Jack could tell the last four years had not been a bed of roses for him. Pale scars adorned his son's body. Faint, barely discernible if you weren't looking.

But Jack was looking.

And he wasn't entirely convinced that he liked what he saw.

Perhaps these changes to his son's personality were a byproduct of the life he led out there, but Jack couldn't imagine what could cause such a drastic change in only four years. Given, it certainly felt like a lot longer at the time, but where was his bright eyed boy? The man that had gotten a feeling the night before his launch?

So late one night when he came home to see his son and daughter talking to each other he couldn't help but listen in, hoping he would be able to gain some understanding.

"What, he's changed so much you can't talk to him?" Olivia asks John.

But Jack knows.

It was only once John had outgrown his teenage years that he'd been able to begin connecting with him as a father. Jack really felt he'd had too few years to grow that connection before John had been ripped from him by his supposed death. They had never been great with the whole talking thing before John went missing. When Jack still knew who his son was. When his son still knew who Jack was.

"You know, he says exactly the same thing about you: He's changed so much and-" she continues but John interrupts.

"I have changed and I can't tell him why."

Jack's phone chose that moment to vibrate, a call he had to take. When he came back inside all he caught was the tail end of the conversation.

"There are some things the government can't hear."

"What? Is it bad?"

The slight hesitation is all the proof Jack needs to confirm that the years have not been kind to his son despite his reassuring words otherwise. But he finally catches a glimpse of the man his son once was as he takes a finger, pokes his sister's forehead, and pretends to talk like ET. That was the John he had always known.

So several days later, when his son once again asks him to allow everyone on Earth access to the discoveries Jack finally picks up what his son is getting at. If some alien race finds them and decides to attack, would they rather Earth was destroyed or enslaved because they were too busy squabbling amongst themselves to mount any sort of defense?

More importantly... Was he willing to trust his son's judgment based solely on his word?

And he was. So he made the announcement right there, where none of the Suits could stop him without having a PR nightmare on their hands.

And then the... creature... attacked. Jack didn't catch a lot, but he caught enough. John and Aeryn's instincts were to shoot first then try and figure out the who, what, and why about the creature later.

"Of course this happens the first time I leave Wynona behind for more than an arn," his son exclaimed. He tended to do that when he was upset or distracted, go back to using the alien timetable of microts and arns instead of seconds and hours. Almost like he had to make a conscious effort to use the human timetable he'd grown up with.

D'argo said something, John joked back, Chiana gave her own colorful opinion. They were joking? Jack had been sure just moments before they were about to meet their maker and they were joking about it?

He took at least some comfort in that fact that once the fighting was done, his son's first reaction was to check on the injured. And the fact that when he was in trouble his friends were there to provide backup within minutes.

After that, John refused to leave them alone. Jack had known John and his friends were close, but he watched as they (whether conscious or not) also became very protective. He asked the big tentacled one about it.

D'argo studied him for a moment then replied, "John is family. You are important to him so you are important to us."

Jack watched how his son acted more closely after that, not around the humans but around the aliens, his friends. The son he remembered came out around them more. The caution he had around his own species melted away, he didn't watch what he said around the aliens the way he did around his own people.

But were they his own people anymore?

Jack realized that no, they weren't. His family was still his family, but this was not longer his home. John kept everyone at arms length. He heard him tell DK, "I just installed it, it's your job to figure out how it works."

Jack doubted that very much. He might not know who his son was anymore, but he certainly knew who his son once was. John probably took the technology apart and put it together several times over just to learn how it worked. He was ever the scientist.

And then he was leaving.

And Jack knew, absolutely knew, that if his son left he would never be back. He wouldn't see his son's face or hear his voice again. He'd never know if John and Aeryn worked out their problems or if he found another love. He'd never see his grandchildren, never even know if he had them.

But his son promised he'd be back and, whether that was a promise he could keep or not, Jack knew he had to let him go. So he hugged his son for what he was sure was the last time and watched him board the transport pod.

Over half a year later he was just getting home when he got the call.

"We're down to minutes, Dad, how do you want to spend them?"

So Jack sat on his front steps looking up at the moon for any sign of the transport pod he knew was up there. He couldn't see it. It was like trying to find an ant on the ground from an airplane, human eyes simply aren't capable of doing it. But still he stared at the moon as he had the last conversation he would ever have with his son until Aeryn's voice came over the line saying they had to leave. He waited, within minutes a big blue flash filled the sky and then faded as quickly as it appeared.

He was still sitting in the same place when the phone rang again ten minutes later. He answered with a frantic, "John?!" hoping against hope that it was his son calling back to say they had miraculously defeated whatever alien race was coming to attack them without having to close the wormhole and turned out he'd be taking them back with him afterall.

But it was not his son's voice that came over the line, it was his daughter's.

"No, Dad, it's me. Why would you think it was John?"

Jack didn't know what he answered or even if he answered. All he knew was fifteen minutes later her car pulled up in front of his house. She sat down beside him and he wrapped his arm around her. "He's gone, Livvy. He's gone and he's not coming back this time." he whispered.

"But at least this time we know he's alive," she answered.

"Yeah," he answered. He didn't tell her that his son had basically told him war was about to erupt on the other side of the wormhole. "At least we have that."