AU: John O'Neill (Clone Jack) receives the news of Major Carter's death...
Part of my Lost and Found Universe. Takes place a week after "Two Shots of Jack".
Triggers: Depression, Underage Relationship, Reference to a Major Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Foul Language, Reference to War.
Please note that this story deals with an underage character and a very mature age character. I DO NOT CONDONE this behaviour, but please remember that this is FanFiction, not real life, and the characters are Sam and Jack in other forms. While Jack's clone is 16 in this story, he is still a 52 year old man.
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Amazon/MGM. I'm just throwing them a curve ball and making their lives a little derentis!
Chapter 1:
Friday, 6th February 2004 – John O'Neill
"See ya tonight!" Janice called as I scooted up the path after getting out of her car. She was the only one of us lucky enough to have her licence. The three of us guys had failed. Elliott forgot to signal, Gus tried driving on the left side of the road like they did in his home town – someplace in the middle of what he called the wheatbelt in Western Australia – and me, well it seemed that nearly 40 years of driving bred complacency because I did everything wrong – apparently.
Lucky for us, she had access to a car – a bunky old diesel powered 1980 model Volkswagen Passat. An awful yellow thing that rattled when stationary instead of idling and, for some reason unknown to man, had a steel bull bar bolted to the front that wouldn't have looked out of place on my old truck.
"Ya, sure!" I yelled back with a wide grin. She had insisted on catching up at her place with Angus and Elliott tonight to watch Forrest Gump, a movie I detested because of the twelve Jenny boats. She had given me her 'what-the-hell' face at the time. Unfortunately, the real reason was nigh on impossible to explain because – at 16 – I had not been deployed to Vietnam, had never experienced a hippy protest march, and certainly had never taken a bullet. Except that I had and didn't particularly want the memories of blood, sweat, tracer fire and jungles to resurface.
"6 o'clock!" She reminded by rote even though I had arriving just on time down to a fine art.
"Yup!" I replied flicking a little salute in her direction.
I had to get inside, finish my homework, and pack an overnight bag. Since Janice lived on the northern side of the Springs, it made sense to stay overnight and head to Cascade from her place in the morning.
The coffee chat with O'Neill last weekend – as unexpected as it was – had been good and I now felt like a had a purpose. My own place in the team that was unique to me. Something that the old me could not do. A reason to continue other than trying not to relive my old life. The anticipation of seeing this Lieutenant Colonel Carter – 'Sam', I corrected internally – I could call her Sam – had been growing as each day brought my visit closer until my excitement threatened to burst my seams.
I had originally planned on skipping the movie catch up and going tonight then staying in the spare room but felt that might be a bit presumptuous. So, I'd go tomorrow, and maybe stay. If she let me.
The sound of my phone ringing had me sprinting the last couple of stairs, keys already in my hand ready to open the door. I didn't get too many people calling me, mainly because hardly anyone had this number. A few friends, the school, Hammond, and the full complement of SG-1. Not that any of my old crew called me that often, citing the weirdness of speaking to a teenage Jack O'Neill.
Unfortunately, one of those 'friends' was Veronica – well ex-friends. She'd been crummy at me ever since I ditched her the Monday after Homecoming. Not that she called that often, only when she wanted something that she couldn't get from anyone else – loosely translated as help with her math homework or front-row seats to the hockey. Since the Avalanche were playing New York – her least favourite team – on Tuesday, she wasn't interested in using my season tickets and with school only being back for a month, there were no tests coming up anytime soon.
Of course, as luck would have it the ringing stopped just as my hand reached out to pick it up.
"Ah, for…" My curse died on my lips when my right pocket buzzed. Pulling the small, folded device out, I nearly fumbled and dropped it, not yet used to the smaller size of phones. My memory still recalled the old Motorola StarTAC that my former self used right up until Carter insisted that he leave 1995 behind and move into the 21st Century. Even though I had personally never owned one of those dinosaur phones, learned behaviours apparently shifted when you were cloned.
Flipping it open, I noticed it was from Daniel, so I pressed the green button to open the message… the words hitting front frontal with a wave of shock making me stumble, knocking into the side of the cupboard, and sliding down the wall.
"No. Oh God, no." I heard myself say, the sound something I barely recognised. It couldn't be… hitting the back key, then opening the message again in case I was reading it wrong, you know, because I had to be.
Right?
I wasn't. There the words sat on my screen. A veritable short story, but all I could focus on were two of them – Carter KIA.
Swallowing heavily and shaking, I closed the message and found my contacts list. It wasn't a long list, yet it still took me much longer to scroll to the letter D than it would normally. Pressing the green button again, the monochrome screen displayed an old-fashioned phone receiver with an outward facing arrow prompting me to put the phone to my ear.
"Hello." Daniel answered, his voice was tired sounding – dull even – as if the light in his world had gone out. It had in mine and God knows how the old man was dealing with this.
"Daniel." I almost whispered, trying to keep the shock and hurt out of my voice as I sat crumpled on the floor of whatever area of my apartment I was in. Living room maybe. Bordering the tiny half kitchen, half dining barely big enough for the basic appliances, a table and one solitary chair.
"John." He replied. I didn't have the energy to tell him that I had once again adopted 'Jack' as my name.
"What happened? And don't tell me its classified." I demanded, desperately needing to know how and where she died. Did she go down kicking arse? Surely, she did, it wasn't her style to go any other way.
"Wish I could, but you know…"
"Danny, it's me." I interrupted, then paused, and closed my eyes. I was Jack, but I wasn't. Opening my mouth, I continued, "Him. I am him. Please." I knew my voice sounded broken and pleading. He stayed silent, other than the sniffling and harsh breathing.
A concerto of sorrow and heartbreak. The sound of tears running down his face just as they were on mine. I could have held them in, stayed strong and brave and everything that I had worked hard to prevent as my old self.
But this was Carter. Sam. My Sam.
I hadn't been able to stop them when Jolinar took her, so I learned to hide them behind a veil of indifference. But I was no longer her CO. In seven short days, I had become nothing to her. A child. A failed experiment. Though she would always remain my greatest love. The woman I went to hell for because she asked me too.
At length, he spoke. "He was with her to the end. Five hours ago. New Alpha." He confessed. My eyes closed; we had only just set up at that place before Loki happened. It was supposed to be safe.
"How is he?" I asked, genuinely concerned about the old man. In truth, I already knew. While her loss would not affect him to the same extent as Charlie's death had, it wouldn't be far from it. Especially now after taking the leap from CO and subordinate to lovers.
Shit.
Dropping the phone from my ear, I hit the hang up button without waiting to hear Daniel's response to my question. I knew how he would be feeling because I knew how I would be feeling. If he didn't put a gun to his head over this, I'd be surprised.
Turning my head to my tiny fridge, I could see the two timetables stuck to its surface with an 'I love Colorado Springs' magnet, route numbers and times highlighted. My weekend adventure to Cascade all planned out. The bright smiling photo under its own USAF emblazoned magnet right beside them.
I knew then that I could not go. Not yet.
How could I see another Carter knowing my version of her had just died. My face maybe different, but Carter could always read me, and I had no doubt that any Carter – old or young, alternate, or otherwise – would be any different. I hadn't made contact with her; it was going to be a surprise.
Some surprise.
Hey, hello, how are you? Sorry, but the other you just died.
My bottom lip wobbled, and I dropped my head into my hands and let the sorrow overtake the learned habit of repression. The choking cry emitted from my chest filled every corner of the room.
"God, Sam. Why you?" I moaned, a brief flicker of anger made me lash my foot out at thin air before I wrapped my arms around myself and dropped my chin letting out more pain. Slowly, I laid down on the floor and rested my head against an arm, making sure I was still in eyeshot of the photo. My eyes were heavy and my soul a dead weight.
She was gone, and nothing as bright would ever exist again. Nothing but that photo.
Someone shaking my shoulder forced my eyes open and I realised I must have fallen asleep. The soft glow from the dull light in the corridor outside bathed the room in a sickly yellow colour.
"Hey, mate! You awake?"
"Gus? Is that you?" I asked my friend.
"Yeah, mate. Janie's bin tryin' to get a hold of ya on the dog an' bone. You forget or somethin'?" Angus said in his very unique version of an Australian accent, or what he called 'Aussie'. He had moved here with his parents when his old man got a job at some defence contractor. Before I met him, I'd never heard a real Australian speak – well the guy who played Crocodile Dundee was real – but surely, he didn't really sound like that on a normal day.
"Dog and… what?" I asked as I let him help me up to a sitting position.
"Dog and bone." He paused, then huffed quietly. "Phone. C'mon mate, get with the program." He complained as he stood and moved away.
"Right. Phone." I responded just as my kitchen light flared to life above my head. Crap. I covered my face quickly to shield my eyes.
"Whatcha doin' down there, Jack." He asked. I dropped my hands and looked half up at him, half at the wall. "Shit, man… you been crying? Waddya… half cut or somethin'?"
Filtering his words through my internal 'Space Monkey' translator, I huffed quietly when I realised it meant drunk, "I wish." The words nothing but a murmur as I looked at the photo over his shoulder, then back at my phone. "Wish I was, Gus. Wish I was."
Janie would understand. Like me, she knew loss after having lived through the death of her brother Richard a few years ago. Killed in some cesspool by the Taliban after being held hostage for several weeks. While I hadn't told her who I really was, she had this look in her eye that made me feel like she did know. I had told her how my whole family was military and how they were deployed so often, I rarely saw them. Not a complete lie.
"Jack?" I looked up at the new voice. Janie. "Oh my God. What happened?" She asked when she saw me huddled on the floor, her expressive eyes going wide behind her glasses as she crouched down in front of me. I could feel the tears filling my eyes once again.
"Umm…" I winced and sniffed, "Aunt Sam." I sniffed again and wiped my nose, giving her my chosen endearment for Carter. She immediately dropped to her knees and drew me into a hug, giving me permission to let go just as I had done with her whenever she hit rock bottom over the loss of Rick. Wrapping my arms around her and dropping my head to her shoulder, I took the comfort she offered.
"Shh, it'll be OK." She soothed, her hand running up and down my back while my shoulders shook with every racking cry. I had never been like this before, and I blamed my teenaged hormones. Thankfully I had a kindred spirit, well as much a kindred spirit as a 16-year-old girl on her first pass through life could be. She was like the sister I had never had, and I loved her for it. At length, she pulled back. I could see reciprocal tears in her eyes, and I knew she was thinking of her brother.
"C'mon, it's been a bad day for me as well. I've got ice cream, soda, and Beverley Hills Cop 2 in the car. Gus." She nodded to him which loosely translated to 'you are the pack mule', a role all three of us guys had fulfilled from time to time. "Tell Elliott we are here tonight." She instructed as she helped me to my feet, then guided my tired body to the small lumpy sofa. Gus merely grunted and disappeared. Janie took a seat beside me and dropped her hand to my thigh to get my attention.
"What, no Forrest Gump?" I asked, secretly thankful for that fact.
"No, couldn't do it. Not today." She confessed, "Axel Foley is about as far from home as possible and still have explosions." I chuckled. She was so like Carter. Science nerd, chess champion, loved explosions. Wouldn't surprise me if she could shoot as well.
"Jack. Be honest with me. She wasn't your aunt, was she?"
I turned my head sharply, "What? Of cou- course she was." I stuttered. Janie looked over her shoulder making sure the others weren't there.
"Jack, you have a photo of her on your fridge. You have another one in your bedroom." She confirmed.
"How do you… oh, right." I turned away, forgetting that I had been awfully sick just before Christmas, so she had bought me some chicken soup and cold and flu medication. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me." She urged, but I stayed my silence, looking anywhere but at her. There was no way she would believe me even if I could tell her.
"Look, you know that Rick was in black ops with the Army, right." I nodded. She had already told me, though I hadn't reciprocated any information.
"Well, you kinda remind me of him – sometimes." That comment made me look at her. How could I remind her of Rick? I wondered silently. "It's the eyes. It's as if you have seen how evil and messed up the world is. Your eyes are too old for the rest of you." She said with conviction. Shit. I turned away quickly and focused on the blank television screen wondering how long Gus and Elliott would be. She was entering dangerous ground. "You always check any room you enter, and make sure your back is to a wall."
"So? A lot of people do that." I defended my paranoia.
"Your pointer finger on your right-hand twitches when you are nervous, upset or angry." She added, bending her trigger finger in imitation of what mine was doing this very moment.
Damn, she had me there. "My family is military, they trained me well." I replied, trying to explain away some of my habitual actions while clenching my right hand into a ball to stop the finger thing. She sat quietly for a mere moment, just observing while I desperately tried to not look in her direction.
"You loved her. I can tell." That did get my attention.
"What? No! She's… much too you… old… was much older." I skipped over my mistake with an obvious falter, trying to keep the denial in my voice alive, but Janie was too smart for her own good. Just like Carter. She smiled broadly and dipped her face to catch a glimpse of my nervous embarrassment even as I reverted to avoiding her gaze.
"Egg Nog never lies, Jack." She replied with a cheeky smile reminding me of my loose tongue at Christmas and how I lamented over Carter and lost opportunities. Why we left Janie in charge of refilling the cups and making new batches, I would never know. Luckily her parents had been out for the weekend, though it didn't stop her from being grounded when her dad discovered his expensive whisky severely depleted. Funny that the underage drinking hadn't been reason enough for that.
"Janie. Please." I warned, hoping she would stop this line of questioning and observation sharing. "Let's just leave it as 'classified', hmmm?" She gave me her 'I knew it' smile, though she didn't really know anything. Not really. It's not like I could fess up that I was really the 16-year-old clone of a 52-year-old Air Force black ops Colonel who was desperately in love with his dead 2IC.
Thankfully, the others came thundering up the stairs making her pull away and stop the interrogation. Soon enough, the din of spoons in bowls, glasses on the table and the opening credits of the movie drowned out the deafening silence in my small apartment.
None of this would change anything. Tomorrow, I would wake up and Sam would still be gone. But at least I could try to forget that my world hadn't shattered.
For tonight.
A/N: That bunky old VW Passat... was my first car. It rattled like a truck and got to 60 kilometres per hour eventually. Let's not even talk about overtaking another car on a hill! Oh and for those who don't know, yes Paul Hogan really does sound like his character Mike Dundee. My father sounded the same and so does my brother.