Title: Postcards from Hell
Author: Rude's Mom
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Stargate. I wish I did. All characters will be returned the their proper owners when I finish playing with them.
Spoilers: Stargate through end of season 7 (esp. Fragile Balance); all of Buffy (esp. Anne)
A/N: This fanfic takes place during chapter 4 of “Rebuilding” and is for anyone who wanted to know just what happened to JT in the hell dimension. The first chapters are sans Buffy.
Pairing: JT/Buffy (eventually)
Memorial Day morning was unseasonably warm in Colorado Springs. The traffic was starting to pick up as people headed off to the various holiday picnics and events. People with friends and family, people with places to go. Real people with real lives, not throw away clones like Jonathan Thorsonn.
Get a grip, JT thought to himself as he left his apartment. At least the Air Force, in the persons of George Hammond and Jack O'Neill, had given him some of the trappings of a life. As far as the state of Colorado was concerned, he was an emancipated minor surviving on a stipend from following the tragic death of both of his parents. Unfortunately, the stipend only covered the most modest of living expenses after paying rent as anything more might raise a red flag.
His new life revolved around not raising red flags so he had to fit in with his new peers. Ignoring his penchant for Mad magazine and his Gameboy, fitting in with a bunch of teenagers was much harder than anyone would have supposed. True, his disdain for the administration matched that of his fellow inmates in intensity, but it wasn't for the same reason. All the self-esteem building in the world wouldn't make up for what he considered a substandard education and studying for standardized tests was not the same thing as getting an education. The other students had never known anything else and just despised “the man” because it was what kids did; hell, he, or rather Jack, had felt the same way back in the sixties. His new peers were interested in sex, drugs, and rock and roll. As far as JT was concerned, it was a) off-limits (and creepy), b) not something he wanted to get mixed up with (the prescription meds after Iraq had been hard enough to get off of), and c) who in their right mind would call that music. Yeah, he really fit in.
Most extracurricular sports had been deemed off limits as either too visible or too dangerous. He could live without football and, with his current and oh so scrawny frame, it really hadn't been a viable option anyway. Baseball and basketball had never really appealed to him. Hockey was his sport of choice but that had been deemed to be too close to something Jack O'Neill would have done. Swim team meant wearing a Speedo, which was never
going to happen. Given the choice of wrestling or track and field, he chose the latter with the understanding that he could never win a major event.
He had joined a couple of clubs, mainly to pad out his application to the Air Force Academy. The Spanish club hadn't been terribly stimulating but at least it didn't scream geek like the chess club, which he also joined. Jack O'Neill version 2.0 was officially a geek. The only saving grace was that he had not joined the math club too.
Could his life get any worse? School sucked, his friends had blown him off, and his summer job prospects were less than satisfactory. Sure he loved pizza but he so did not want to spend the next three months making them. Life at sixteen was depressing. And where the hell was he anyway? He had been walking around aimlessly for the last couple of hours and now found himself in an unfamiliar part of town . "We help the hopeless" read the sign next to the entrance to the building. What the hell, JT thought, and he opened the door and entered the "Family Home."