Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

Travels with my grandfather

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

This story is No. 12 in the series "Waifs and strays". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Jack O'Neill and his grandfather travel to various places together. It will tie in to Buffy later, I promise!

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Angel-Centered
Movies > Mummy, The
(Current Donor)vidiconFR1316,9361124,93019 Aug 1119 Aug 11Yes
Author’s Note:


Thanks very much to my Betas. Letomo and Twilight wanderer. Any mistakes left are of course still mine.


The following ways of notation may be found in this story. This is excluding whatever I need to represent chatting, texting and stuff like that. And you can thank Twilightwanderer for the Abbott and Costello.


Speech: “Who’s on first.”


Thought: *What’s on second.*


Vision: #I-don’t-know’s on third.#


Reviews are much appreciated; they inspire me to new height of so called creativity.


The Mummy was created by Stephen Sommers and most likely the property of United Artists.

StarGate was created by Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin and Stargate SG-1 by Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner. I do not own, not claim ownership, to either.


This story is the immediate sequel to Grandfather’s visit and takes place not too long after the movie Stargate, which sets in late 1994, possibly early 1995.


Travels with my Grandfather


Jonathan Carnahan looked with distaste at the expanse of water that stretched in front of him as he sat in his folding chair on the jetty in Minnesota.  


“You do realize that there’s not a single fish in this lake, don’t you?”


“Oh?” His grandson was focused on his rod and lure and sat very quietly.


“Are you doing this to annoy me, Jack?”




“Making me fish.”


“I’m not making you fish. You told me we’d go here first. There are many wonderful and exciting things you could be doing if you don’t want to fish.” Jack pointed out reasonably.


Jon looked around. He took in the placid lake. The trees around the lake. The cabin behind him. He sighed and rose with some difficulty and the aid of his silver headed ebony cane, hobbled to the cabin, rummaged around in his suitcase and came back with a twine bound manila folder stamped with Top Secret, US Army on it. He sat back down and started to read.


Jack looked at him. “What are you doing?”




“That’s exciting.”


“More exciting than fishing.” The old man said deadpan.


“What are you doing with a Top Secret file?”


Jon looked at his grandson over his glasses. “Well, obviously I’m reading it.” He turned back to the folder. Jack gritted his teeth and counted ten monkeys.


“How is it that you are in possession of a Top secret file?”


“Oh.That’s Top Secret.”




Jon grinned and held the file out. Jack put his rod down and accepted it, then turned to the first page.


“A personnel file? How exciting…So what are you doing with it?”


“Refreshing my memory. This is in all probability the only uncensored version of this particular person’s file. It might even be the last in existence.” Jon said quietly.


“Colonel Jonathan Derrick Cloudseley Carnahan V.C, 3rd Baron Carnahan of Overton in the County of Hampshire, 12th baronet Overton .…Granddad! This is you!”


“Hmmm. You thought I was just interested in fighting mummies?” Jon said slyly.


“But…you’re a baron? How did that happen?”


“Nothing I did, except being born. I’ve always found it damn silly really, so did your mother. Your father, bless his colonial heart, would never have told you. I thought you knew.”


“Ah…yes…He would be rather opposed to anything related to titles and hereditary honours…how did we come by it anyway?” Jack looked at the crest pinned to the second sheet and winced.


“Oh, one of our ancestors once loaned someone a stupendous amount of money when that certain someone needed to pay a gambling debt or be denounced as a welsher. This later resulted in the money being only partially repaid and a title dropped in lieu of interest and such. Also he had a pretty wife.”


Jack paled. “We’re not…”


“No, no, one hundred percent Carnahans. No need to get your American Republican anti-monarchical knickers in a twist.” Jon assured him.




Jon drawled. “I’m sure you only use that phrase merely to annoy me. So you’ll be happy to hear that it is inheritable through the female line. The Right Honourable Jonathan O’Neill, how does that sound?”


Jack paled. “You wouldn’t!” He gasped.


“I have already filed a request on your behalf. Owen was most receptive.” Jon added smugly.




“You call him Mr. President. I call him Owen. Comrades in arms, you see.” Jon waved a negligent hand.


Jack made a gargling noise and glared. He turned to the file again, latching onto it as if it was a lifeline.


“You were a Colonel?” Jack mused.” VC, DSO. with bar…Err…granddad…that’s Victoria Cross, right, which is the equivalent of the Medal of Honor…”




“How did you get that? You never mentioned it before.”


“World War I. Near Ypres. I lived. Many other men, who I deem were much braver, did not.” Jack glanced at his grandfather and saw the tears run down the cragged face, unashamedly.


“Ah. Err…you served in World War II as well, it says here…”


“Mostly in an intelligence capacity.”


“Which earned you two DSO’s?”


“No, the second one is for Korea. I spoke the language, after living in the East for a while…” Jon’s face was sad.


“Granddad…how much of this would be blacked out if I got this somewhere else?”


“Well…certainly the bit where I was working behind enemy lines in World War II and reported the attempts of the Nazi’s to use supernatural beings in warfare. Damn stupid idea of course…” Jon mused.


Jack coughed. “S-supernatural?”


“Yes. Jack, when I said I’d told you the truth I meant the whole truth. Demons and vampires and magic are real.”


“Aha. And why did you feel a need to tell me this? Or now specifically?”


“Because you are a target. You are my grandson and Evy and Rick’s nephew…Jack, neither your mother nor grandmother died natural deaths. Both were killed, murdered, by supernatural beings.” Jon said the last words very softly, his gaze on the farther shore of the lake.


WHAT!?” Jack went rigid with anger. “How? Who?”


“Your grandmother was killed by a Festh demon. I destroyed him and his tribe. Your mother…she ran into a vampire, by accident we think. I staked it, with Rick. That was when I realized I was no longer as young as I was.” He held out his arm and Jack took in the long, ugly scar.


“We kneecapped it and then shot it and it still ran its teeth down my arm. Vampire bites never heal cleanly it seems.”


“Vampire….” Jack whispered.


“Yes. Jack, you need to be prepared. Once I die…You’ll be come the Bearer of the Sceptre. It’s not a responsibility to take lightly…and it makes you a target like few others.”


“Right. Lovely. What others?”


Jon pulled his lip. “The Slayer for one. She’s the Chosen vessel to destroy the forces of Darkness. Maybe a few other Champions of the Light. Some of the more powerful adepts…But you’ll be pretty high on the list of people to kill.”


Jack groaned. “Great. I thought I got out of all that when I retired.”


“You’re Black Ops, Jack. You and I both know that the risk never ends.”


“Right. How come you’re always joking around then?”


“What else is there to do? You can keep that, by the way. I’m going inside. I’m too old to sit by the water all day long and gaze at my lure. Come to me if you have any questions. Any questions at all.”


Jack nodded once. He’d read this file, cover to cover. Then there would be time for questions. Like if Granddad knew any embarrassing stories about the President. Purely for the interests of History, of course…




USA, New York


“This is where you live?” Jack stared at the large brown stone in some surprise. “I thought you had that apartment in Chicago.”


“That was just to keep close to you and your parents while you grew up. This I bought in the late twenties. I’ve had it refurbished a couple of times since then.” Jon said with a critical gaze at the four storey building. 


“So…you own this and the apartment?”


“And a condo in Miami and a flat in LA and flat in London and a cottage in Cornwall. Oh, and Carnahan Manor near Overton. The other properties are just for the rental income.”


Jack’s mouth fell open. “What?”


“You’re catching flies, Jack. Let’s go in.” Jon rose from his wheelchair and laboriously mounted the steps to the front door. He opened it with a set of keys, a different key for the two locks and three deadbolts. The door opened onto a broad hallway, lit by the great rosette window over the door. Five double doors opened to either side of the hall and a huge staircase rose at the rear.


“Well? Do you like it?”




“Yes. Terribly ostentatious, I know. I was drunk when I bought it of course. Helen loved it here…so did Evy.”


“I must admit that…well I didn’t know her as a child…but this doesn’t seem like mom’s sort of place…”


Jon’s smile was wide as he threw open the middle door on the right hand side. “Well…there’s the library of course…”


Jack gaped as he realized that the last two sets of doors were blinds and that two storeys of the great house were taken up by books, huge book cases rising to the ceiling, enormous curtains hanging from the vast north facing windows, iron walkways and staircases winding their way throughout the room. A painting hung above the mantle of the great fireplace, three large leather club seats were in front of it. Jack stared at the painting in wonder. His grandparents and mother, she could not be more than five, just before her mother’s death, just before her maternal grandparents took over her care, considering Jonathan unfit to do so. Jon was dressed in a light blue suit and his grandmother in white and his mother in a dark red dress. He looked around and saw Jon’s customary smirk had disappeared. His hand clenched in his jacket pocket, where Jack knew the Sceptre, folded to its smallest size, was. The Sceptre that had cost the lives of his mother and grandmother. The Sceptre Jon hated so much. The Sceptre of Osiris, the Lord of Death, which unfolded into the spear he had used to kill the Scorpion King.


It seemed strange to Jack that this old, wizened man had done all those things. Suddenly he smiled. “Charlie…when Charlie told us you’d taken him to all these great places to play…this was one of them.”


“Yes.” Jon gestured at a shelf near the fireplace. “That holds the family albums…There are pictures of Charlie in there I doubt you ever saw.” He smiled. “You have no memory of this place I suppose…Your father wouldn’t let you come here after Evy’s death…he always blamed me.” Jon studied the head of his cane. “And so do I.”


“You told me the vamp that killed her was a random one.” Jack stated flatly.


“Yes…but I should have trained her better. Taught her better. GOTTEN HER A BLOODY BODYGUARD!” He screamed at the portrait and threw the sceptre at his own, younger face, slashing the canvas. “YOU FUCKING MORON!!!”


Jack had caught the old man in his arms as he screamed at his own younger self, at the mistakes he had made at the losses he had suffered. Jack held his grandfather until the old man had cried himself out.




Jon sighed and blew his nose. “Jack…You always think you should have done more. I am better…but I sometimes wonder if it ever gets better. Come on, I’ll show you your room and then we’ll get some pictures of you and Charlie in here. That mantelpiece needs dressing.”


Jack smiled and followed his grandfather, once again chattering inanely, as the old man led him through the house. The great golden spear stood out from the wall and the torn, smiling painted face of a younger, happier Jon Carnahan until Jon pulled it out before they went out for dinner.




Jack looked critically at the huge bank of computers in his grandfather’s working office in the even larger house he’d been driven too. “You know how these work?”


“I find them infinitely preferable to typewriters and telexes. But as to their internal workings, no.” Jon said dryly. “Learning to use them might make your life a lot easier. And don’t use the ‘I’m just a stupid idiot’ trick on me, I invented that. Not to mention I paid for your education. So I’m fully aware of your actual intelligence.”


“Why do you need a job? You’re loaded.” Jack carefully filed away the fact that Jon had paid for his education for later research.


“I need to feel useful. And this is one of the most useful jobs in the world. Your Aunt Evy would have a fit if she heard that, but it’s true.”


“So you find out information about demons and such things and send them to your boss?” Jack asked cynically. “Who works to save the world basically for no other reason than that he has too?”  He looked around the well proportioned room that led onto a library even bigger than the one his grandfather had amassed and that Jon told him was only the tip of the iceberg of his employer’s book collection. “Looks more Batman than Spiderman to me.” He sniffed.


“The family has been doing it for a very long time.” Jon said dryly. “And they are very good at making money as well as saving the world. Come on, let me show you something.” He hobbled out of his office into a wide corridor. Large oil paintings, portraits, hung on the walls. The men in them all had similar features, especially the nose. But what Jack noticed most about them was the eyes. The eyes of men who had seen too much. Too much death, too much loss. There were dozens of portraits, some obviously copies of much older works.


“They’ve been doing this for a while. They can easily trace their line back to ninth century England. They admit to fifteen generations with the same name. This…” Jon indicated the last portrait. “Is my employer.”


Old Bloodybones?”


Jon’s mouth quirked. “I believe he prefers Dr. Meier, but yes. Well, I need to get to work, apocalypses to prevent. Oh, and Jack. Around here I go by Worthing. Earnest Worthing.” He grinned as his grandson realised what that name implied and a small smile flitted over the younger man’s face.


“Why you sly old dog.” Jack chuckled. “And I suppose you have a number of cute assistants to help you?”


Jon’s face fell into a parody of a sad clown expression. “Mostly fifty something’s with PhD’s.” He perked up. “I do meet with many very pretty young ladies on the net. I think you would like Techno_witch.”


Jack groaned. “You’re actually on the ‘net?”


“Just got into Instant messaging. I go by IM Minion of New York.”


“Minion of New York?” Jack queried.


“My employer’s title is the Magister of New York. The Magisters tend to be called by the names of their Sees.” Jon explained.




USA, New York, Harlem


Rain was falling in endless streams and Jack O’Neill, slowly walking through said rain in a neighbourhood that, despite many changes for the better, was still not a good one, looked at his grandfather with irritation. “Granddad…why are we here?”


Jon looked at him from under his dripping hat. “You wanted to see the power of the Sceptre. Since I’m not going to bring back Imhotep or the Scorpion King to show you its full power, a minor demon or vampire will have to do.”


Jack swore. Rain dripped down his face. “Couldn’t we have done this in better weather? Or in a different country? With more sunshine? Or in California? This place smells!”


“Stop whining Jack, and pay attention.” Jon raised his hand and Jack’s retort died on his lips. A scream rang through the night and Jon went towards it as fast as he could. Jack followed with an eye out for his grandfather as much as for any possible dangers. The old man might be in very good shape for a man in his hundredth year, but he was an old man, and not as nimble as he once had been.


A young woman was pressed against a wall, a young man lay on the ground, writhing. The man who held the woman against the wall had his face buried in her neck and Jack could smell the coppery tang of blood on the air. Jon held the sceptre in front of him.


“Osiris! Guide my hand!” The golden rod in Jon’s hand lengthened and shone with a bright, golden-white light. Jon’s expression was fierce and determined and Jack wondered if he looked the same way when fulfilling a mission. The spear entered the man with is face in the girl’s neck and he looked up. Jack could see the deformed forehead, the bloody fangs, and the gleaming eyes. And the shock on the thing’s face, right before it fell to dust.


“Fuck…”Jack whispered a rare  actual curse, eyes wide in shock. Jon touched the glowing staff to the young woman’s throat and the young man’s back. The bleeding stopped.


“It can cure people?” Jack asked, amazed.


“Only in a very minor way, and only in my hands. The bleeding on the girl has stopped, but the blood has not been replenished. They still need to go to a hospital and take plenty of rest.”  He reached down and helped up the young man.


“Easy there lad. That was a nasty tumble you took. Mugger’s gone now, so why don’t you take your lady and go to the hospital, get checked out, hmm?” Jon said suggestively.


“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that.” The young couple rather shakily left and Jack looked at the small pile of ashes on the ground.


“Are there more things like that around here?” *Okay…reading about those things and seeing one…definitely a different thing…*


“Far too many. Shall we continue? To prove a point, the next one I will incapacitate and you can experiment with various implements to try and kill it. You have your stake?”


“Yeah.” Jack patted his jacket.


“Don’t be slow in pulling it out; normal stakes disintegrate with the vampire if you leave them in too long. Let’s go.”


Jack followed his grandfather into the night, wondering, quite literally, what the hell he had gotten himself into.




Europe, United Kingdom, County of Kent


O'Connel Manor was a Victorian disaster to Jack O'Neill's mind. No matter that it was the family home of his great aunt and uncle, it was still a shit ugly pile of bricks with no redeeming features other than the inhabitants.


And said inhabitants were standing outside it, waiting on the steps to the door. His Great Aunt Evy was still upright and despite her advanced age, a beautiful woman. His great uncle was leaning lightly on two golden headed black wooden canes and grinning broadly. They looked more like handy weapons than necessary for his support. Jack suddenly wondered about the eternal cane so many people had ribbed General Meier about and what its actual purpose was.


“Well Jon...I see that mechanisation finally caught up with you.”


“You mean this?” Jon gestured at his wheelchair. “This is merely ploy to get pretty nurses and young women to bend over and show me their cleavage.”


Evy sighed. “Behave you two. Hello Jon.” She kissed her brother and then kissed and embraced Jack. “Hello Jack. Welcome to O'Connell Manor.”


“Thanks Aunt Evy. Happy to be here.”


“Good to see you again...but the circumstances are depressing.”


“Yeah...can’t  say they aren't.”


“I hear you've taken up fishing? I'm certain that Rick can show you the best spots...” She grinned at her husband who groaned.


“I'm sure that fly fishing is not what Jack is here for?” Rick hopefully put forward.


“I doubt he’s here to talk about Egyptian mythology, Rick.”


Jon coughed. “Actually I was thinking of telling Jack here the complete truth...And I think he’d appreciate your point of view.”


“What, all of it? Even the bit with the camel?” Rick asked teasingly.


“We might skip over that one.”


“The Llama?” Evy grinningly brought up.


“The Llama may be ignored without doing damage to the truth.” Jon replied with dignity.


“The cow in India?”


“I would be greatly pleased if the two of you would cease bringing up my unfortunate encounters with assorted livestock.” Jon said acerbically.


“But they are such fun tales to tell, Jon.” Evy teased.


“And I'd love to hear them. I think I know the one about the cow, but the others are new to me...” Jack grinned evilly at his grandfather, who let out a put upon sigh.


“Well then nephew, let's get inside and regale you with the misspent youth, middle age and old age of your dear grandfather.” Rick put an arm around the younger man’s shoulders and led him inside. 


Jack smirked. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it Granddad?” Called over his shoulder.


“Immense fun.” Jon said dryly as his brother-in-law led his grandson into the house. Evy looked at Jon worriedly.


“Do you really think it’s safe to tell him these things now, Jon? When he’s trying to work through his grief, trying to mourn?”


Jon snorted. “What he’s trying to do is drink himself to death. What I’m doing is what you and Rick did for me after Helen died. I’m giving him a purpose.”


Evy sighed. “I suppose so…How’s Sara holding up? Why isn’t she here as well?”


“Well…there’s Charlie…and Jack hasn’t been the best of husbands…so she left him. Filed the divorce papers while he was on his last mission.”


Evy winced. “Ah…the poor boy. Well, we’d better spoil him a bit then.”


There was  whooping laughter from inside and a bellow laugh from Rick. Jon smiled up at his sister. “I think Jack has discovered your banister…”


Evy groaned. “Dammit, Jon! I only just got Rick and Jon and the children to stop doing that!”


Jon grinned. “And Jack will infect all of them; all over again…shall we go have tea, sister dear?”


Evy, muttering all the way about evil, conniving elder brothers, led him into the house.




“Granddad kissed the camel?” Jack asked, looking at the man with wonder. 


“He claims he was drunk. We know better.” Evy teased.


Jon snorted. “I am a librarian…”


Evy blushed. Rick gaped. “But…hey! You were asleep!”


“You were very noisy.” Jon replied dryly.


Evy rubbed her chin, her eyes twinkling. “Really? Well, I can remember the night you met Helen…”


Jon grinned back. “So can I…and nothing about it embarrasses me in the slightest. But I doubt you can say the same about your first time with Rick…”


Evy sniffed. “My wedding night was special, and you were nowhere near this mansion, you were drunk in London with some bimbo.”


“Your first time with Rick was on the other side of a camel to me. And when will you learn; dear sister, that I’m never as drunk as I appear to be.” Jon stated dryly.


Rick blinked. “Oh…so that was why you hit me the next day and told me that I’d damn well make an honest woman out of Evy…”


Evy had buried her fiery red face in her hands in embarrassment. “I told you we should wait! But no! ‘Tomorrow we may be dead!’” She groaned.


Jon shrugged. “Well, you sounded like you enjoyed yourself and it generally was a good piece of advice. If I hadn’t had a good notion Rick loved you more than life itself, I would have interfered.”


Jack chuckled, rather happy his own escapades were unknown to any in the room but himself. “Well…isn’t this interesting…now let’s get back to this Imhotep guy…”




Jon O’Connell stood next to his cousin and looked at his uncle playing. Playing cricket. With Jon’s grandchildren, and apparently they were making up the rules as they went along, or at least, Jon Sr. was.  He smiled up at the younger man. “Well…some things haven’t changed…”


“UNCLE JON!! THAT ISN”T IN THE RULES!!!” Little Rick O’Connell yelled at his great-grand uncle.


Jack grinned at the smaller, older man. “He’s still a cheating, lying, womanizing, cheating, humorous, drunken, cheating, sometimes brave, self-preserving cheating wastrel? Did I mention cheating?”


Jon chuckled. “Yeah. Nothing has changed.” Both men chuckled as the older Jon deftly tripped his great niece, Adrienne, and then his latest namesake, Little Jon, with his cane.


“I didn’t know cricket was a contact sport…”


Jon snorted. “Uncle Jon taught me a very important lesson when I was their age.” He gestured at his grandchildren. “Life is not a game and it’s not fair. Anything to win, but remember some things are more important than winning.” Adrienne had started to cry, and Jonathan had thrown the ball at Rick, taking her in his arms and soothing her.


“Yeah. A good lesson. A hard lesson.”


“He’s telling you everything?”


Jack nodded. “Yeah.”


“Right. Then he won’t mind me telling you of his epic encounter with a Chinese sow.” Jon grinned evilly. Jack rubbed his hands in glee.




Egypt:City of Hamunaptera, UN Archeological Preserve.


Jack was staring at the great ruined city in awe. “You discovered this?”


“Rick did. Evy and I just went along for the ride the second time. We were the first to report on it though. Made Evy’s career. Mine, not so much.” Jon smiled.


“Hamunaptera…I have…had a friend who waxed lyrical about this place.” Jack pushed Jon’s wheelchair through the loose sand heaped beside a trench in which half a dozen young archeologists were carefully scraping layer after layer of compacted sand.


Jon snorted. “Well, he’s welcome to it. Damned creepy stone deathtrap if you ask me.”


One of the students, a pretty young woman glared. “Hey! If you don’t like it, why are you here? There’s enough people who want to see it that we don’t need some old geezer taking up a spot when all he does is complain!”


Jack snorted. Jon grinned. “Whatever you say, my dear. I was just telling my grandson how I first camped here, way back in 1923.”


The slight laughter in the trench that had started when the young woman had told him off stopped immediately. The young woman’s eyes widened in shock. “Errr…what?”


“I wasn’t alone of course…but rather fewer of us left than came in. Dangerous place, Hamunaptera.” Jon mused. “Right over there, there was a statue of Anubis…It fell down when the whole bloody place went up.” He pointed with his cane. Jack suddenly realized it was not the head of a dog that topped it, but of Anubis. 


The girl, now Jack could see she was not a girl but a young woman, was gasping for breath, clearly hyperventilating. Jon sighed and took out his lunch from the rucksack hanging from the wheelchair, shook his sandwiches out of the brown paper bag and handed it to Jack.     


“Be a good chap and jump into that trench and give this to the young lady, would you, Jack?”


Jack nodded and jumped, careful to avoid anything that might be archeology. Jon had rather succinctly told him that the massive collapse had ‘buggered up the place for serious archeologists, so we might as well send in Indiana, for all the good it will do’ a reference that Jack hadn’t understood. But the old man had impressed upon him the importance of the little pieces of twine that were still part and parcel of the archeological experience. He gave the woman the bag; she accepted it and started breathing into it.


Jon looked down approvingly. “Very good. Say, can I use that ramp? I’m no longer as mobile as I used to be…That looks like 17th dynasty…quite early for this site, most of it is 19th.” He flipped back his wheelchair table and rose, quite smoothly, grabbing his cane as he went.


“The old place positively gives me energy.” He grinned as he walked to and then down the ramp. He ran a mustering and approving finger down the visible layers of the dig. “Very little of the original archeology left of course, but very well marked nonetheless.” He reached for his slim spectacle case and put on his prescription sun glasses, removing the heavy sun visor he had worn before.


Jack noted he did seem to walk more easily, as if the memories, no matter how terrifying, returned some of his old youth and vigour. He smiled broadly at the students, one of who, a pretty redhead, dropped her trowel in her excitement. He moved towards Jack and the woman who had told him off, who was obviously the trench leader.


“Good morning, Jon Carnahan, at your servi…Marion? Marion Ravenwood?” The amusement in his voice gave way to surprise.


The young woman blushed. “No, Lord Overton, Marion Jones. Errr, Marion Ravenwood is my grandmother.”


Jonathan nodded, putting a hand to his face. “Of course, forgive me…just…you are the spitting image of her, when she was your age.” Then he started chuckle. “Evy and I spent decades keeping Indiana away from here…and here you are…”


Marion smiled. “He was most annoyed. I promised to bring him lots of pictures.”


Jon grinned. “And that’s the closest he’ll ever get to here as long as I have breath in my body. We were bad enough…Indiana would be overkill.” He extended his arm to her. “Would you mind showing me the dig, Doctor Jones?”


Marion accepted his arm gracefully, but a slight blush rose up her cheeks. “I’d love to, Lord Overton.”


“Jon, call me Jon. This, by the way, is my grandson Jack. He’s smarter than he acts, which isn’t hard.”


“Hey!” Jack groused.


“But he has inherited my devilish good looks.” Jon continued. “And I’m very glad to see you inherited your grandmother’s remarkable beauty.”


Marion blushed. Jack grinned at the students in the trench as his sweet talking grandfather led their teacher away. 




Egypt, Giza plateau


“I still can’t believe it!” Jack glared at his grandfather. “She’s barely in her thirties, if that! You…you…”


“I gave her a night to remember. She enjoyed herself greatly.” Jon said placidly and sniffed his carnation.


“Yeah, sure…old creasy wrinkled guy and gorgeous young woman, yeah; I can see where you get that thought from.” Jack said sarcastically.


“Jack…I’ve been making love for slightly more than eighty-five years. I know how to make a woman scream in ecstasy. I also know when she’s faking it. I may lack the stamina I had thirty years ago but I make up for it with skill.”  Jon blew on his fingernails and then buffed them.


Jack grimaced. “God almighty…”


“I’ve been called that, yes.” Jon said blandly.


Jack groaned. “And now you’re gonna make an honest woman out of her?”


Jon smiled sadly. “I greatly doubt Dr. Jones would even consider that…I am a good lover Jack…but I am very old and she is young and beautiful…I would not do that to her.”


Jack looked at him askance. “Granddad…something you would like to tell me?”


Jon sighed. “It was a long time ago, Jack…If I hadn’t met Helen…and if Marion hadn’t had her unresolved issues with Indy…I might have married her.”


“Did she look like her granddaughter?” Jack asked softly. In response Jon dug in his rucksack and got out a small photo album. He pulled out an envelope from the album before handing the little book over “That’s Indy, and Marion. That’s me and Marion. Evy, Rick. This was at a conference in the late fifties.”


Jack looked at the photos and nodded. Then he pursed his lips. Jon had pulled two photos out of the envelope, had smiled at them, and tucked them back.


“Private pictures?”


“Ah…Marion wasn’t always married to Indy…and she wasn’t averse to the occasional…tumble.” Jon said with a reminiscent smile.


Jack coughed. “Oh fer cryin’out loud…you…her…her granddaughter…”


“Yes, Jack? You have problems with the fact I am old and yet have sex? Or with the fact I’m more successful at enticing women into my bed than you are?” Jon teased.


Jack groaned. “Right…Okay. I give up. You are an evil, disgusting, unrepentantly lecherous old geezer. Now, why are we here?”


“”Well, the Pyramids are worth a visit…but really we are here because many thousands of years ago a group of beings tried to take over the world in the guise of gods. The final battle for control of earth, where they were returned to wherever these False Gods came from, was fought right here…on this plateau.” Jon thumped the ground with his cane.


Jack swallowed heavily. “Ah…how do you know that?”


“Well, in 1928 a man called Paul Langford dug up a device, called a Shappai in the false gods’ tongue, that allowed travel to distant worlds, at least according to some of the err…material I appropriated before Langford could do something stupid, like opening it. I had some friends of mine seize it from Langford, who worked for the Norwegians and we shipped it to Britain where it was buried under a heap of earth. And then Eden went and gave it to you lot as part payment for a load of tanks. Bartered the safety of the world in exchange for a ship load of goods.” Jon said scathingly. “I can only hope that your Colonial friends never managed to open it…The result could be disastrous.”


Jack very carefully schooled his expression while gazing at the distant pyramids. “Right…so if I hear rumours of some nut cases getting an old ring to work…”


“Try and stop it. I managed to make certain that the control device and the gate itself were separated, so it should be difficult, but I don’t know what modern computing can manage. The control device certainly looked intricate, but…” He shrugged. “You never know, as a race we are quite good at finding ways to destroy ourselves.”


Jack sighed. “Yeah, in complete agreement there.” *Right…I have to find out where that control device is, and if it’s safe…Without Granddad finding out about it, and the Airforce about Granddad. Dammit!*


“Well…let’s go have a look at the Pyramids. Oh, remind me to show you the secret room under the Sphinx.”


Jack groaned. “Does this involve crawling through a narrow tunnel like we did on Orkney? And that had nothing to do with anything mystical!  I know it!”


“Why Jack, would I do that to you?” Jon grinned and led him away.  




USA, Colorado Springs


Jack O’Neill stood looking at his house in Colorado Springs. His grandfather stood next to him. Jon put a hand on Jack’s arm. “Will you be alright now?”


Jack nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I will be.”


“Do you need help?”


“I’m gonna call Sara…we ought to do this together.”


“Wise…Jack…she’s a good woman. But…”


“Yeah. I know...I shouldn’t try and get her back. Too much has happened.”


Jon smiled sadly. “You know where to call if you need me. Give Sara my best.”


“Yeah.” Jack turned round and hugged his grandfather. “Thanks granddad. I love you.”


“I love you too, Jack. I love you too. Now take care. And for heaven’s sake, watch out with the booze.”


Jack chuckled. “I will. Don’t go with too many strange women, okay?”


“I will attempt to rein in my natural urges. Take care, Jack.”


“Take care, Granddad.”


Jon got into his car and drove off, waving. Jack waved back and stood looking until the car was out of sight. Then he went inside, picked up the phone and dialled a number stuck to the refrigerator.


“Sara? It’s Jack. I’m going to clear out Charlie’s things…I thought you might want to help. And we can talk about finalizing the divorce, and who gets what.”




CODA: USA, WashingtonDC, The White House, Oval Office


Owen Lassiter moved like an old soldier. He was an old solider of course, and a highly decorated one. Jack saluted, despite the fact he was out of uniform, and retired.


The President smiled; an old, care worn smile. “Colonel O’Neill. Welcome, good to meet you.”


“Thank you, Mr. President. But I’m retired.”


Owen Lassiter gestured at the couch and sat down after Jack had, pouring them both coffee from a thermos on the table. “It’s not entirely fresh, but I can’t afford anyone overhearing this conversation.”


Jack drank his coffee, eying the President. “I thought all conversations here were recorded, sir…”


“They are…but this one will be marked Top Secret, presidential eyes only.”


“I see, Sir.”


“You spoke to your grandfather.” Lassiter said softly.


“Yes, sir.”


“You know I know him.”


“Yes sir…is this about the baron thing?”


Lassiter shook his head. “No…this is about me having to order you not to tell one of my oldest friends, a man I admire greatly, your grandfather; that we succeeded in opening the Stargate.”


“Ah. I see, sir.”


“I’m also ordering you to never reveal to anyone connected to the Program the fact that Jon knows about it, and what it can do. Unless someone else mentions him first, in a serious way, not those ridiculous ‘The Gods Were False’ books he wrote as a double blind, you will never connect Jon to the gate in any way”


“Yes, sir. May I ask why?”


Lassiter sat back. “Two reasons…one is I don’t want Jon to be disappointed in me. It’s a stupid reason…but…” The president shrugged. Jack nodded, understanding. “The second is that I want to keep Jon safe…if he knew it could be opened he might try and do something harebrained, and destroy it. If others know he knows about it…some people might try and get to him for information. Less scrupulous people than the US Airforce. And as the gate is no longer functional anyway, its all academic.”


Jack chuckled. “Understood sir. We can’t have Granddad wiping the floor with the Russians or the Chinese on Madison Avenue.”


President Lassiter smiled sadly. “I fear Jon would not stand a chance. He’s confined to a wheelchair… “


“No, sir. He uses a wheel chair. Err…I take it you know about Hearts of Fire?”


“Vampires and Demons and magic are real. I found that out in World War II…and again in Korea. The Presidential briefing on it was a bit redundant in my case.” Lassiter smiled at Jack, if a trifle grimly.


“He killed three vampires in New York…just to show me. He can walk, even without the cane, that’s mostly for show. Mostly, not entirely. He’s very, very errr…spry for his age.”


The President snorted. “He still kills vampires? Heh. Well…you may a have point. He took you on a trip. I believe?”


“Yes, sir. Europe and Egypt. He wanted to take me to China and Korea, but the State Department and the British Foreign office objected. Something about National Security.” Jack shrugged. ‘I couldn’t see the problem myself…”


“Really? Two former high ranking black ops officers, both with a price on their heads want to go into China and their governments have to intervene to stop them from going?” Lassiter grinned. “You really are Jon’s grandchild.”


“Apparently, Sir.”


Lassiter leaned forward. “Well then…that was the official bit…did he do anything…embarrassing while he travelled with you?”


“He seduced and slept with a woman almost seventy years his junior; does that count?” Jack said sourly.


Lassiter grinned. “It’s good to hear some things never change. Say, has anyone ever told you about Jon’s interesting encounter with a water buffalo near Seoul?”


End Note:


Marion Jones of course is the descendent of Henry Jones and Marion Ravenwood. She is not a canon Indiana Jones character, I made her up. I do not own Indiana Jones; he was created by Stephen Spielberg and George Lucas.


A not on Earnest Worthing: Oscar Wilde wrote the play The Importance of Being Earnest.  The main character, a man called Jack Worthing, a guardian to a very wealthy young woman, has to be staid and upright. To do so and still have fun he has invented a notoriously troublesome and regrettable younger brother, Earnest. His best friend in London, Algernon Moncrief, has invented an equally invaluable invalid friend called Bunbury, who lives in the country and supposedly falls ill whenever Algernon wants to go to the country. The name given to such a way of acting is Bunburying. Jon has created a responsible persona for himself to hide in and called it Earnest Worthing. As such he is an inverse Bunburyist.

The End

You have reached the end of "Travels with my grandfather". This story is complete.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking