Title: One-eyed Jacks
Author: Kay aka Moon Fox
Rating: G
Summery: SG-1/ Farscape crossover. Two old friends sit, drink, and fish while mourning their sons.
Disclaimer: Yep disclaimers… read other stories and you'll know them. I own nothing but the plot.
The small red and white bobber danced on the waves. The filament swaying below in the water, attached to a metal hook with a rubber worm tempting the fish around it. Though many of the aquatic marine life swam by, none were attracted to the false lure. This didn't matter to the man sitting on the wharf drinking a beer quietly and lounging in a deck chair. A friend sat to his right nearly mimicking the movements of sipping the beer, checking the fishing rods and lines, just relaxing in each others companionship. "I miss him, Jack. I miss him like you wouldn't believe." The second man said breaking what was a comfortable silence.
"Yeah, I know what your talking about, Jack. I miss my son too." Jack stated as he stood up and went to check on the bratwursts that cooked slowly over the warm grill. The two men shared so much in life that they thought of each other as long lost twin brothers, fraternal twins of course since they bore no physical resemblance. Even when they both met in the Air Force Academy and were stationed in the same company, they had immediately hit it off, from that day not even distance, nor marriage could come between their camaraderie. The only things distinguishable between the two men years ago were their looks and their names. However by a prank the two pulled off in their barracks so long ago, the name part was soon remedied.
~o0O0o~
Two young airmen quietly made their way through the darkened hallway of the Academy. They were on a mission, to prove which company was truly the best. The Victory Vultures, it seemed, had gained quite a bit in the last month for the unofficial 'Senior pranks' competition. The conflict in North Vietnam was pushed into full throttle, the majority of those in the graduating class would be sent there soon, and most of them would die. It was a known fact, yet know one dwelled on the idea long. The instructors and officers granted unspoken leeway to the mischievous soon to be officers, this newest shenanigan would be pressing the freedom to the limit.
The Yankee Yaks squad leaders, more commonly referred to as the Yankee Yahoos, decided at the beginning of the year that the typical senior escapades should be kept to a minimum, or at the very least just ahead of the other four companies in the class. This was to go on until near the end of the year when they would sit down and discuss the appropriate action. With only a week left until graduation, nothing had been decided, so two of the four squad leader put their own plan into motion. The vultures were up by two in the numbers. That wouldn't matter, by morning the creativity of the yahoos would put them so far ahead, nothing short of a retaliation in which a few vultures got expelled, would top the devious scheme put in motion tonight.
They halted before a dimly lit hallway, looking over their equipment before beginning the final assault. A few hours later and all was ready. Killing two birds with one stone, the two added in a piece of something the Vultures did to them, only a month into the year. The entire company was punished when playing cards…ten decks of playing cards were found in the barracks rooms.
Then to top it off, after the pranks the four squad leaders received a jack on each pillow, on each of them was written the word 'ass'. Judgment day had come for the Vultures, now all that was left would be to get a precious hour of sleep, then wait until their masterpiece was discovered.
Revile sounded a blaring and high pitched noise. Men and women began waking up through out the entire base. The line of cars outside the entrance gates stretched out at least a mile, as it always did in the mornings. The stomping and pounding of feet running, jogging, walking and marching, sounding off cadence as they went was enough to bring even the weariest of dead out of the grave. Before even the first light of dawn shone its rays over the arid eastern prairie, the senior class of the Air Force Academy was gathered outside in formation, awaiting the orders of the day. O'Neill and Crichton kept their faces straight and their eyes straight ahead as a few previously missing Vultures filed into assigned places. Still at least three others of the opposing company were missing.
The trick for the Yahoo's plan to work to its fullest extent, would depend on their own Company Commander. If he let them out for liberty on what promised to be a beautiful May Saturday in Colorado, before any complications such as figuring out the who done it part of the prank, then all would be well. They stood at attention for what seemed to be hours, although it was only about fifteen minutes before they were given the order.
"LIBERTY, LIBERTY, LIBERTY! FALL OUT!" the CC called out after informing them of expected behavior and the time for Sunday evening muster.
Finally in a tremendous 'HOU!' all the Yankee's bolted to safety before the CC could change his mind. The four Yahoos' ran into their barracks and quickly changed cloths. After acquiring rock climbing gear for the Morale Office, which the two that had been clueless in the party, wondered about where one of the other had already procured his. They jumped in O'Neill's truck and spent twenty minutes driving to the Garden of the Gods where they would be climbing the infamous Camel's Eye. They spent the entire weekend climbing, camping, driving two miles to the nearest convenience store and stocking up on camping food. Sunday night they arrived for mustering, and tried to ignore the scowls they were receiving from the Vultures.
'Mission Accomplished!' held the look O'Neill and Crichton shared and they silently congratulated each other on a job well done. It took a lot of ingenuity to even think about stealing the Vultures two Morale Symbols. Then to sneak into a hanger bay with the oversized plaques, glue the one-eyed jacks left on their bunks to the center, and find a way to hang the symbols up high where everyone would see. For the whole of the final week, first the Vultures only digging themselves deeper into an already deep hole, then the rest of the Yankees, and soon everyone on base were calling the two misfits Jack.
The nickname just seemed to carry with them for the whole of their lives since that weekend., and they didn't think twice about it. That name was a badge to wear, even when no one else knew the story…the A. F. A. class of 1970 would always remember.
~o0O0o~
So Jason Crichton and Jonathon O'Neill became the two Jacks. They were stationed together in Vietnam and when they were sent home two years later O'Neill introduced Crichton to his sister. With in two months they became brothers in the in-law sort of way. Ten months later in 1973 Jonathon Robert Crichton was born, every bit as ornery as his father and his uncle. Born of pure hell-raising.
The two parted ways then with Crichton joining NASA, and O'Neill joining the Special Forces. They kept in touch over the years and made a vow that every three years each would drop what they were doing, if possible, and go fishing together. Now off the coast of Florida the celebrated the 9th tri-annual Jacks fishing excursion. This year a damper had been placed on the merriment, Crichton's son, following in his fathers footsteps, became an astronaut. Just five months ago, while test piloting an experimental module, something went wrong and O'Neill's namesake and nephew disappeared.
After all these years the two aging men shared a sorrow, both had lost their sons. The main difference with Crichton was that O'Neill knew little John was still alive. O'Neill cursed at the need for secrecy, he wished more than anything right now to tell Jason that his son survived the test by some weird spatial thing-a-ma-jig causing a worm-hole. O'Neill wanted to tell his long-time friend about many things, that John was right in his theories, there was life through out the universe, the gray's were real and they called themselves the Asgard. Most importantly the experiment worked. Sort of.
In fact a buddy of O'Neill's in the Asgard sent a message recently. The Asgard received a transmission from an area just outside of their borders, known as Peacekeeper space. The recording was from Little John. Although fully grown, his uncle still referred to him as such, and it pained him to no end that no matter what, it would be a long time, if ever before his nephew came home. Thor promised O'Neill that if anything else was heard he would be contacted immediately.
O'Neill exhaled a haunted sigh, 'to hell with protocol!' he thought. "Jack come here and sit down."
Crichton complied with a worried look on his face. The tone in his friends voice was serious and deep.
"Jack," He started to tell his comrade, "John's alive."
He was taken back by that comment, Crichton sat with a blank look on his face as he processed the information. He had to look around to find that O'Neill had gotten up and was tending the grill. "How, how do you know this?" he managed to stutter out.
"I don't and neither do you, if you catch my meaning." O'Neill stated calmly with out looking up from the grill. "Just know that he's alive." The rest of the day passed with neither mentioning what was said. They both understood the implications, if it ever was found out that classified information was passed. They understood, and they never said anything about it again.
