AU: Harry Durack is visiting Cascade because he just has to see General Sam Carter... John gets a lift to his apartment with Sam.

Chapter 16: A Different Kind of Chess

Monday, 21st June 2004 – Cascade – Harry Durack

"You're getting better at this." I commented the young man opposite me. This was our second game of chess this morning in which he had managed to defend my attacks. Though this game would likely end in a stalemate just like the first, the fact that he didn't get squashed in the first ten minutes was a testament to his dedication, or maybe Sam had spent the last three months kicking his ass and he decided to stop making brash moves and silly mistakes.

"Yeah, it's all in here from before. I guess I just needed to play Carter to be able to remember." He replied – pointing to his head – then moved his pawn rather than the knight that I was expecting him to play.

"So, that's what you guys spent three months doing up there." I jested, he turned his mischievous smile on me and raised his eyebrows. If I didn't know better, I would say that they had found the mysterious and fictional Fountain of Youth, but since John appeared older than he had been before he left, I figured it had to be some other thing.

"Classified, old man." He snarked back making me laugh, as I moved my bishop to threaten his rook. That was what I thought he would say because surely anything that caused a person to regress some thirty years while the other aged – my guess would be three years – had to be classified.

"You gonna go do something with that pan?" I motioned to the stove with its now very ready to use saucepan.

"Oh, yeah." He said quickly, then jumped up, turned down the heat and gave his bare omelette batter another mix since it had started to separate. Why he never added more ingredients was beyond me.

"You know, if she finds that here…" I pointed to the half open bottle of beer, "…I will be in trouble for enabling you." Sam's insistence on John not drinking despite his mental age had been consistent since day one. Something about his brain cells still developing despite his true age.

"Pfft! Half a beer is not going to kill me…" Was his immediate response as he poured the beer-laden mixture into the hot saucepan, the sizzle of cooking egg and evaporating beer filling the room. "…besides, the alcohol will cook off." He stated then came back to his seat while his very late breakfast cooked, the half full bottle of beer placed on the table.

"And that?"

"What? Can't let it go to waste." He replied cheekily and took a large gulp.

"U-huh." Was all I could say since I hadn't been able to order Jack O'Neill around for over two decades.

The soft shuffling sound of dress shoes on the carpeted stairs had us both turning our heads. "Whoa." John made a noise and gaped at the General.

"John, close your mouth." I said as I cuffed him on the back of the head. "Good morning, General." I greeted.

"Harry!" She replied quickly, a look of confusion passing over her face. "What are you doing here?" She asked, then looked at the contents of the table, "And what is that?"

With a crooked smile, I reached for bottle, "That's mine." I replied and took a sip, then had to fight not to grimace because I had always been a scotch man. She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms, an amused look crossing her face. Despite me being retired for years and approaching my 71st birthday, her hard look combined with that uniform almost had me coming to attention and saluting.

"Is that right?" She countered incredulously; arms still crossed and eyes squinting. Slowly she glanced at her watch before taking back in the scene before her. "At 0827 in the morning." She said with a wry smile.

"Yep, and I was playing chess with the kid." I continued my defensive strategy earning myself a growled 'Oi, watch it' from said kid. "And, I simply had to see this…" I motioned to the splendour that was a woman in uniform, "…for myself. Congratulations, General." She looked amazing, all decked out in her perfectly pressed and accoutred dress blue uniform, a set of gleaming stars on her shoulders. The only thing she needed to fix now was the messy mop of streaky white, blonde hair that still hung about her shoulders. After three months away, it was a good four inches longer, hanging well below her shoulder line.

She smiled with her whole face, then walked over and kissed John's scruffy head. "Morning, John." She greeted the kid who took the opportunity to wrap an arm around her waist. "Say, aren't you supposed to be at school, young man?"

"Nope. Summer holidays." He responded quickly, his arm releasing her from its hold.

"Ah. Yes, I forgot about that."

"You look great. Really great." John said as he gazed at her with a chuffed awe-filled expression. I knew he was appraising her with the eyes of an old Colonel who had been grooming her for leadership. He had a kind of tell when he switched from John to Jack that he couldn't quite hide. Whatever had happened in the last three months, the young man in front of me had matured markedly. He looked more like the young man who dragged my dying ass through the jungle, right down to the red-tinged facial hair that he had decided not to shave. The unkempt hair was new. I just hoped he did something about it soon because his hairdo was rapidly becoming like what the kids used to call a mullet – short on the top, long at the back and all over scruffy. He reminded me of my grandson throughout the 80's and early 90's.

"Thanks." She replied, as she brushed out her hair and started the process of creating what was supposed to be a French braid. When her fingers got tangled in the plait, she huffed and brushed it out again. After a second attempt that ended with more cursing, she simply tied it in a rough bun that was not becoming at all, messily pinning it in three places. I shook my head. That would never do. She was a General now. She had to look prim and perfect. An example to everyone under her command.

"Come here." I said, gesturing her over. She gave me a look, which I returned as I came to my feet. At length, she walked over and stood in front on me. "Turn around."

With careful precision, I removed the three pins, then the twisted hair tie making sure not to pull at her hair. Putting them on the table, I reached for her brush to comb out the tangles created by her hastily created hairstyle. With the demonstrated ease of a man with a daughter and four granddaughters, I created a perfect French twist and pinned it in place. "There. Perfect."

She walked to the mirror to check out my handiwork. "Harry. You are full of surprises." She said with a smile, "I thought you only had a grandson." Since I hadn't talked about the others, it made sense that she wouldn't know.

"I do, though his hair isn't long enough to do that anymore, not that he'd ever let me touch his hair when it was. I also have four granddaughters." I replied with a smile. "Two of them are in the Air Force."

"They are? Where are they posted." She asked with an expression of awe at learning about them for the first time.

"One at Altus, the other at Kegelman." I replied. As proud as I was, the girls had always insisted that their Colonel grandfather did not call in any favours or boast about them, wanting to make their own way, and carve out their own careers. I respected their wishes and chose – at the time – not to divulge how well known the Durack name was in areas that they worked. They would have found out for themselves eventually.

"Training installations in Oklahoma." She confirmed, receiving a nod from me in return. "Interesting." She muttered with a strange smile on her face.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes at the woman in front of me. She looked at John who smirked but didn't say anything. "General, don't you even think about it, or they will kill me." I warned her against whatever it was she was thinking.

"Think about what, Colonel?" She replied, the bright blue of her eyes meshing with the blue of her uniform.

"Retired Colonel, and whatever it is you are thinking."

"Relax Harry. I was merely thinking that knowing two people from Oklahoma meant we could arrange a delivery of some Braum's ice cream." She replied. John's head immediately jumped up from his careful study of the chessboard.

"Oh, I am all for that!" He added enthusiastically. I had to laugh at his response. He was every inch of the Jack O'Neill I had known for years. All that man really needed in his life was hockey, beer, ice cream and The Simpsons. With a smile, I noted that he also needed Samantha Carter in whatever form she came.

"You do realise your order would melt before it arrived here." I threw a spanner into her works. She smiled and I knew she had already thought this through seven ways from Sunday.

"Not in winter." She replied quickly.

"It's too cold for ice cream in winter." I came back because this was fun. John scoffed a 'hardly' response directly afterwards. Of course, he would eat ice cream in winter, but then again, he also thought Minnesota in winter was just cold enough.

She leaned on the table and raised her eyebrows, "I happen to know someone with a freezer truck…" She smiled mischievously.

I narrowed my eyes, then smiled back. Oh, she was an observant one, but I wasn't ready to let this go. By this time John was watching the both of us bat this conversation back and forth. "It's just a normal truck, General." I replied, referring to my old Chevy.

"Not the one in your garage out the back, Colonel."

"Retired." I added. She smiled and jutted her chin to the side. "Besides, I can't exactly go to either base for a social visit."

"No, but you happen to also have an Oklahoman girlfriend." She pushed, that smile growing wider. Whilst that was technically true, since she was born in Oklahoma, Maryanne's family lived on the opposite side of her border-spanning home town. "Whose family I believe you are going to visit soon." She added, making me wish I had not mentioned the annual road trip for Mary's mother's birthday.

"Maryanne is from Texas." I corrected her even though I knew I was splitting hairs, so to speak. This almost felt like a different kind of chess.

"He's got you there, Sam." John replied and looked back at the board, though at this point, I couldn't remember whose turn it was. She pursed her lips, and her eyes tinkled knowingly.

"Ah… yes, you are correct." She said then paused giving me an opportunity to claim the medal for this match, but before I could do so she added, "That being said, I'm sure even you can manage a diversion to Guymon on the way home from Texhoma."

John's raucous laughter filled the room, and Sam stood and smoothed down her unwrinkled uniform giving an air of game, set, match. John kept laughing until I thumped his arm. "Your food is burning, kid."

"Shit!" He jumped up to save what I suspected was an unsalvageable beer omelette while still laughing, the entire burnt mess going into the trash and the pan placed on the edge of the sink to soak some of the charcoal off before cleaning.

"I'll consider it." I said to the General as she collected her belongings ready to head out the door.

"Wait Sam." John called, "I need a lift to my apartment." She narrowed her eyes at his less than ready to go appearance. "I just need to get changed. Give me five minutes." She crossed her arms as he thundered up the stairs.

"I'll give you 3, Colonel. Move your mik'ta." She yelled out what sounded like a curse then shook her head and rolled her eyes in my direction. "Kids these days." I smiled.

"Hey! I heard that." Came John's muffled yell from the top of the stairs.

"Good! 2 minutes! I'm walking out the door." Sam barked, "See you later, Harry and ah… thanks again." She said to me pointing to her coiffure, then turned and headed out. She had just closed the door when John came thundering down the stairs muttering about Sam being a taskmaster. He slipped his boots on, yelled a 'bye, Harry' and ran out the door without the laces done up.

Those two were a special kind of crazy.

~ ~ J 💓 S ~ ~

Monday, 21st June 2004 – Colorado Springs – John O'Neill

Sam pulled up outside the entrance to a place I had not been to in over three months, and it occurred to me that I hadn't cleaned out the fridge. With an internal groan, I reasoned that it was not the first time I had had to do that. Not that it would matter anymore because this would be the last time I came to this apartment.

"Are you sure about this, John?" Sam asked with a cagey look on her face as we looked at the façade with its aged bricks, water staining and overgrown gardens.

"Yeah." I nodded, then looked at her. "Unless you don't… you know want me to live with you." I had made my mind up somewhere inside the first fortnight at the cabin that I wanted to see her every day for the rest of her life. Of course, that was before our night time activities shaved thirty years off her life giving her a lot more days. She had been keen for the change right up until yesterday afternoon.

Minnesota had been an eye-opening experience for me, and whilst I tried to replicate the healing aura that filled her when the four of us were together, all I managed was a slight glow rippling across my skin, most of which was probably the spirit Jack. Still, seeing the little things like her taking medication for her heart and gastric reflux, her daily afternoon naps even when she hadn't had an active day, not eating bread or pasta, or worse, the effects on her when she did eat those things had been enough to make me see her true age instead of the version I wanted to see. Despite her slowly regressing age during that time, she maintained all of the same things, stating that she would see Janet when we returned.

At first, the only thing I managed to pull off during our Jack-infused couplings was the easing of her constant aches and pains. It wasn't until nearly a month and half later than she noticed smoother skin, less white in her hair, and an increased level of fitness.

"Of course I do, John." She replied with a forced smile and squeezed my hand on the console. Yet somehow, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong. The look in her aged yet still crystalline blue eyes reminded me of every time – as Colonel and Major – we realised we could do nothing about our feelings.

Sam did some complicated time-space mathematics just before we left the cabin to determine that I had aged roughly 3 years in the time ethereal Jack had been attached to me while she had regressed approximately 33 years, making her physical age only 56 because technically she was 89 and not 90 after Jack changed her birthdate for the purposes of her new identity when she first arrived. Then she tried to scientifically explain the phenomenon by rattling on about the importance of the number 3 in physics and the number 11 in M-theory – all of which went over my head.

All that really mattered was that my hair had grown, voice had changed, and I had enough facial hair to craft myself a sparse goatee and moustache, which I only did because I could this time around. As far as the Air Force was concerned, I was 16 and therefore one year away from the Academy and a forced haircut and shave.

"Are you alright? I mean really alright, because…" I tried to ask what was bothering her, but she silenced me. She had been tense ever since returning from Washington.

"Just nervous." She chuckled anxiously and drew her lip between her teeth. "I'm about to walk into a highly secure military base and take command of a bunch of people I haven't seen in decades."

"Not to mention that you have to pretend that you were the Major." I added somewhat unhelpfully. She winced and looked out of the windscreen. It was a stupid cover story but somehow, I couldn't shake that something more – something worse – had happened in the Capitol. Her demeanour could not just be the cover story.

"Yeah." She bit her lip again, "Not sure how I'm going to go with that yet. Never been that good with stupid cover stories." She replied honestly then looked at me again. "Go on, I'll see you at home tonight." I smiled as the feeling I had longed to experience for seven long years bloomed in my heart. I would be going home to Sam Carter.

With one final – hidden – squeeze of her hand, I got out of our Silverado, dropped my sunglasses and walked up the path to let myself inside. On the inside, I paused at the mailbox expecting nothing but junk mail. Surprisingly, I had almost a dozen envelopes with actual mail.

"Wow." I murmured and opened the first one as I took the stairs two at the time because, as per normal, the elevator was not working. "Truancy Office. Pfft." I put it to the bottom, opened the next to find the same thing. Mr. O'Neill, it has come to our attention that you have not been attending school. Blah, blah, blah…

"I know, because I was playing hooky in Minnesota." I chortled. The next five consisted of two of the same only with varying degrees 'you've been a naughty boy' language, my school report showing moderately good marks plus two bank statements which I didn't even bother opening. The final few envelopes were emblazoned with the USAF logo which I figured were notifications of my stipend which I also didn't bother opening.

Getting to my door, I tucked the letters under my arm so that I could unlock it and walk inside. The musty smell of uncleaned laundry, dead banana and whatever had been in the rubbish bin when I was here last assailed my nostrils. Shoving my mail in my backpack, I immediately set about the task of opening windows, putting on a load of washing and cleaning out every scrap of perishable food I had. The extent of my non-perishable food, clothes and photos all fit in the massive duffel bag Jack had given me when I first decided to try this life alone.

Three hours later, I was done. Since the apartment was furnished, I didn't need to worry about moving any furniture. Stopping by Mrs. Humphries door, I knocked to announce my presence.

The door opened on a smartly dressed woman sporting glasses with a colourful beaded chain. "Can I help you?" She greeted sharply and it occurred to me that I looked a different.

"Hi, Mrs. H." I replied with a huge smile.

"John O'Neill. Is that you?" She raised her glasses to perch on her head. I ran my hand through my hair and nodded. "Well, long time, no see." She greeted, scrutinising my changed appearance with a sharp eye. "Where have you been?"

"I spent some time upstate with family. In the middle of nowhere, Minnesota." She snorted good-naturedly.

"Oh, well next time you do that, tell me young man!" She berated, tugging on the end of my too long hair. "Those pesky truant officers knocked on my door constantly." Though she tried to sound annoyed, the smile on her face belayed the feigned rage.

"It's OK, you won't have to worry about that anymore." I said and held out my key. She looked at it and then at me. "It's all clean, windows are open to air the place out. I'm going to stay with my… grandmother." I said, working hard not to wince at that term. "She's… ummm… getting on and needs…" I faltered on the final words realising that she was barely older than Jack now and just as capable, though still old enough to be my grandmother. "Well, you know. Stuff." I finished and grinned with closed lips. "This is my forwarding address." I produced a slip of paper with my other hand.

"I understand, John." She took the key and the paper, a look of resignation crossing her face. "Well, you will be missed young man. Get on with you… and cut that hair." She groused, "You look like that doctor on General Hospital except for the..." She motioned to my cropped red beard with her pointer finger. I laughed and shook my head.

"Bye, Mrs. H." I said with a small wave. She smiled and closed the door.

Checking my watch, I noted the time and figured I had a few hours before Sam would call to say she was heading home. If I was done sooner, I'd catch the multiple buses needed to get home. With a renewed vigour, I started walking towards the local post office where I would arrange to divert my mail to Cascade.