AU: John O'Neill returns to school and has an uncomfortable encounter with his ex-girlfriend while texting Jack.
Part of my Lost and Found Universe. Takes place 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 2:
Tuesday, 10th February 2004 – Mountain Springs High School – John O'Neill
Pulling out my phone as I shuffled along the lunch line waiting for the canteen ladies to serve up whatever they deemed edible for today. I pressed down the button to turn it on. I would never normally bother doing so, but after last Friday, I was anxiously waiting for details on when Arlington would take her. The SGC normally did their own memorial since Arlington could take months, though I didn't like my chances of being invited to that after having given up my clearance despite still being considered classified myself.
"Wow. Talk about technology from last millennium. Couldn't your parents spring for anything else?" The churlish female voice said, making me roll my eyes with a soft snort and shake of my head at the girl with the long brown hair sidling up beside me along with her cronies. She really needed to learn better insults.
"Morning Ronny. What time did you get up this morning to come up with that one." I responded drily, putting my archaic technology in my shirt pocket, and giving her a look. No wonder I walked away from her. This high and mighty snootiness was getting old. Older than me.
"Hey, buster! Don't call me that! You know I hate that, Jonathan." She bit back, showing her dislike of my pet name for her, a pet name she actually confessed to liking as long as I didn't say it near her friends. I couldn't help but smile at her trying to hide her little jolt of glee from the bitch brigade. Why she insisted on trying to be one of them, I would never know.
"Yep, almost as much as I hate Jonathan, Johnno, Jacky or Nat." I retorted, listing all the versions of my name she had come out with because she hated just calling me Jack, or John because they were too boring. Though I had to at least give her points for Nat. No one had ever thought to chop the front and the back of my name off before.
I had started my new life going by John O'Neill but found that I frequently wouldn't respond to people until they used both my names. By the time they resorted to using two names – generally teachers – I was in deep trouble, often finding myself out the front of the principal's office or in detention after school. It was easier to just go back to using Jack instead of trying to retrain myself to answer to a name I hadn't heard since leaving my father's house to live with my grandparents over forty years ago.
"I had to do something; Jonathan is a terrible name. I mean, why couldn't they switch your names and call you James Jonathan… or Jackson… Jackson O'Neill. Sooo much better than…" She trilled on as we continued to shuffle down the line, her silly friends cooing and giggling over her name ideas. Yeah, because having a first name the same as my former best friends last name is just what I wanted as a reminder that I was no longer living my life.
"No, thanks. Jack is just fine." I replied, reaching for a juice box displaying two apples – one red, one green – wishing that it was a beer instead. Why had I ever thought that going back to high school was a good idea. I blamed the old man. The minute he said, 'are you sure?' I was determined to prove to him that I could reassimilate. Sure, the work was easy… ridiculously so, especially after spending seven years listening to Carter's explanations using apples.
Carter. Why did everything remind me of her? Even a stupid apple juice box. The pain of her loss hit me again and I could only imagine how the other me was fairing. Had he tried to end it yet, or was he wallowing in self-pity and bottle of amnesia inducing amber liquid?
"I know… Jonah!" She blurted out. Closing my eyes as memories of orange thermal suits, blonde hair, and 'feeling feelings' flittered through my mind, I fought the urge to parade ground yell at her, if my larynx could even attain the volume I used to have.
"Veronica. What do you want?" I snapped, giving her a dark look as I received a scoop of what I think was supposed to be some kind of creamy pasta to go with the overcooked vegetables. God this stuff wasn't much better than MRE's or prison food.
"Geez! It's just a suggestion. You don't have to go all postal on me Jack." She scoffed overtly in the way that only teenage girls managed to pull off. I sighed heavily, if only she knew what Jack O'Neill going postal actually looked like. I did and it wasn't pretty.
"Ronny, if you think that is me going postal – you have no idea." I ground out, collecting my cutlery, and stalking off to a solitary table rather than the one with Janie and the guys.
I wasn't in the mood for conversation of any kind. Janie had been moody over her brother Friday night and right through Saturday until I shoved them all out the door. It wasn't that I didn't care, I just didn't particularly want an audience to my brood sessions. The guys thought it was weird for me to be hung up on losing an aunty I barely saw and Janie, well she had been connecting dots and asking too many questions.
Questions I could not answer.
The skitter of another tray followed by four more clunks meant I was not having a solitary lunch. Just great. At least in my old life, Daniel and Teal'c knew when to leave me be. Not that they did, mind you, but they knew and normally refrained from mindless chatter. Well, Daniel did. Teal'c didn't chatter, mindlessly or otherwise. Ever.
"So, my Daddy is flying on his company's private jet to Detroit next Friday, and I'm going. He said I could bring a friend." Veronica crooned, giving me a half pointed half seductive look that I wondered if she practiced while looking in the mirror. Flicking my eyes from left to right – at her friends – before focusing back on her. She had no idea that I could see right through her tactics and out the other side.
The NHL Valentine's Day match. The Avalanche were playing Detroit. In Detroit, and she was trying to manipulate me into being that friend – with my all-season hockey pass courtesy of the old man – by tempting me with a private jet. That kind of manipulation was Military Strategy 101. Something I was well trained in seeing and doing. Besides, after having been a pilot in the F4 Phantom, F15, a retrofitted Death Glider, and countless helicopters, plus being a guest on Maybourne's private jet, the desire to go on her Daddy's jet hadn't even made my list.
"Good for you. I'm sure one of your friends would love to go." I replied, splitting open my hunk of stale bread than was almost tough enough to bang a nail into wood. Definitely like MRE's, if MRE's had bread. At least the butter would make it marginally edible. I hoped.
"God, you're such a lunker, Jack. I want you to come with me." She half berated, half trilled, giving my arm a bump with her fingers, and looking at me from under her fringe after doing the hair flick thing. School girls. They never changed. Even in the 60's, they were the same.
"No, thanks."
"Why not? What, you got somewhere else to be?" She asked mockingly. "I mean, it's not like you have a girl…"
My phone buzzed loudly in my pocket, drowning out her tirade about me being single. Fumbling with it once again, I unfolded it to find a message from the old man.
Wed 18th, 3pm, Crystal Valley. Bring her.
"What?" I murmured to myself, completely ignoring the fact that Veronica was still talking. Getting myself there by bus was one thing, but getting the other Carter who was - in Jack's words - a stubborn old goat like him, would be another thing. Tapping out a reply as quickly as possible because I knew if he put the phone away, it would be hours before I got a reply. Hell, I was surprised he'd sent this message, since I suspected he had taken up residence in a scotch bottle since it happened.
How? No licence. No cadffft...
"Jack, are you even listening?" Veronica jabbed me in my arm as I was tapping meaning the word that was supposed to be 'car' was something closer to the spitting noise an angry cat made.
"I want to go to the hockey." She whined. Giving her a scowl, I quickly retyped the word I meant and hit send again. "Steve Yzerman is playing, please Jacky." She begged with a pout the size of Texas, using probably my most hated of all her chosen names.
"So go, Ronny. Get your Daddy to foot your tickets. I'm not going." I replied, then stood up and walked away, taking my near full tray of food with me. I had had it with being her 'go to guy' every time she wanted something.
"I'll sleep with you!" She stage whispered behind me loud enough for two tables of students to hear. Was she out of her mind? If the huge nervous smile on her face as she stood up and sauntered towards me was anything to go by, the answer was yes.
With no less than twenty pairs of eyes directed our way, I asked, "Excuse me?"
She ran her finger along my collar making my skin crawl. "You heard me." She murmured in my ear, seemingly confident except that she was shaking like a leaf. If this had been my first time around the teenager block, I'd probably have taken her up on it, but with all my years in another life, I knew that she didn't mean it and that accepting would be taking advantage. I wasn't the innocent kid that she thought I was.
"No." I answered firmly.
She stood back, a wash of relief passing over her face. "Wh-what do you mean, 'No'?" She asked shakily, casting a look back to her friends.
"Ronny, you're 16. You are not ready for that yet, and neither am I." I replied confidently, the lie coming easily. I was most certainly ready, but my problem was the only woman I wanted was dead and with her any chance of being in love again. Even though I looked underage, I wasn't and couldn't pretend that I was. Ronny, on the other hand, was underage and shouldn't be offering herself in exchange for anything, let alone goddamn ice hockey tickets.
"I-I am… ready. I mean." She stammered. I shook my head, letting the creases of worry be seen. She was trying to be confident and self-assured, but all I could see was the fear in her eyes. Fear that I would say yes and take what she was offering. I sighed and pulled her away from all the eyes.
"Veronica. Never offer that." I implored her. "Don't give your first time to just anyone. It's special and you'll never get it back. Certainly, don't give it away for hockey tickets." I urged, "You'll regret it."
"You're not just anyone, Jack." She replied, my fingers finding the edge of my collar again. Grabbing her hands, I pulled them away and held them.
"No, but trust me when I say, I'm not the right one." I responded with honesty. I wasn't right for anyone her age. Lifting my hand to her face, I brushed her cheek with my thumb. "Promise me you'll wait for the right person."
"Did you regret yours?" She asked honestly. I nodded, because although I hadn't gone down that road this time around, I had regretted my first 'first time', having given it to a girl several years older who I later discovered did it to get pregnant so she could escape her father's house. Thankfully, I wasn't the one who had managed that feat.
My phone buzzed again.
You can have Carter's S60.
I felt a chill run through my body as I read his message. He was giving me one of Sam's Volvo's. She loved those cars. One big problem, well not big. Medium. Still no licence because no matter how hard I tried, I hadn't managed to pass that damned practical test.
"Who are you talking to?" Veronica asked, trying to contort herself to see my phone.
Bringing it to my chest and taking a step out of her personal space, I replied, "No one." I answered automatically, then corrected, "Actually, my uncle."
"Ooh… that hot older guy I saw you with the day you started?" She crooned and sighed. What the hell? She thought the older me was hot. "He looked so tough, and mysterious."
"Ronny, he's old enough to be your father." I admonished, trying not to cringe on the old man's behalf. Even after seven months at this age, I still found the prospect of being with girls my age to be inherently wrong. On a whole other level wrong. I may only be physically 16, but in my mind, I was still 52 and couldn't stomach the thought of being intimate with any one of them.
She merely shrugged and smiled, then gave me a devilish 'eat-you-alive' look, the same one I had seen on Laira's face. Right. That was… uncomfortable.
"Look, if you want my pass, just… ask next time. Ask nicely." I added quickly, "And perhaps don't start the conversation dissing my technology."
"Dissing? Oh my God, you sound like my Mum." She said looking aghast at my choice of wording. Damn, I hated trying to work out the correct pop cultural references.
"Ronny! Be nice, remember?" I growled good naturedly, making her smile.
She playful bumped my arm, "OK. Jack." She replied, taking a step backwards, "Thank you." I smirked and gave her a little salute, then she turned, and flounced back to her friends. I smiled briefly and turned to leave.
Depositing everything but my juice and yoghurt in the bin and dropping my tray at the return area, I scooted out of the cafeteria and made for the boys' locker room. I didn't have sport next, but at least Ronny and her groupies wouldn't follow me. An instant flash of Carter – wild eyed and crazy haired in her tiny tank top – doing just that had me smiling briefly before the crushing sorrow returned.
Buzz. Leave the rest with me.
Right. Leave it with him. Well, that could mean anything, though I was hoping that he would somehow manage to get my failed licence test result changed at the least. It's not like I couldn't drive, it just that weaving through traffic cones was unrealistic and a waste of time. Put me on the road down the mountain from Pike's Peak and I didn't have an issue because – you know – sheer drop. Tell me to dodge red traffic cones. Ha! It was more efficient to just drive over them.
Looks like it was the bus until then. Maybe I'd go tomorrow afternoon since I my last period was free.