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English
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The Alpha Gate
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Published:
2008-08-25
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623
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1/1
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62

Retired Fishermen

Summary:

Two lounge chairs, two ice boxes, beer, a pond, and fishing…what could be better?

 

Notes:

Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at The Alpha Gate, a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on The Alpha Gate collection profile.

Work Text:


Author's notes:

Gen, humor

Post SG-1 series

Written: 7-1-2008

Tribute to General Hammond… George

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just love them to bits and find this a way to honor them.  We'll miss you Don.  :`(

 

 

~~~

  

Jack leaned way back and didn’t even try to swat the bugs away.  He reached into his cooler and pulled out a beer.  The sun was shining bright, but not hot.  Just right.  The birds were chirping, an eagle was screeching overhead somewhere to his right toward the nearby mountains, and the fish were biting.  Well maybe not for him… yet.  But the day wasn't over.  He opened the beer and took a swig.

  

"Ahh."  Pure joy.

  

"Ahem."

  

"Sorry, George."  He handed his fishing buddy a cold one from the cooler.  The sound of a beer opening and another sound of pure joy echoed across the open water.  Jack looked over at his companion with warmth and deep respect.  General George Hammond had been his lifeline and fearless defender for so long.  Now, he was a well-deserved retired officer and his dear friend.

  

"Oh, look at that."  A deep chuckle followed. "Got another one biting, Jack.  Hand me the net."

  

Jack groaned and handed the net over… again.  He looked down at his rather empty ice box compared to his companion's overflowing ice box.  His friend had a simple knowing smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

  

Jack gave that smile and twinkle a shrewd look.

  

"You sure you've never done this before, George?"

  

"Now when did you ever hear me say that?  I only said I've never been fishing… with you."

  

"Oh.  Guess I just heard the 'never been fishing' part," provided Jack, deflated.

  

"To tell you the truth, I'm a bit surprised by the luck I've had today myself.  Haven't you always said that there were no fish in here?"  He pointed at the tranquil water.  Well tranquil until a fish decided to jump up to make it known that there were still fish in there that Jack still couldn’t catch.

  

"It's… complicated.  I'm more worried that after today there won’t be any."

  

That generated another deep chuckle.

  

"Tell you what.  I'll give you a fighting chance to catch up with me.  I'll give you my reel and I'm gonna take a nice relaxing nap."

  

"That's very kind of you George, but really, I don’t need two reels.  I am actually a, uh very accomplished fisherman."  Jack tried to look sincere and competent.

  

George gave him a skeptical look.

  

Jack looked down with a sigh. "Yeah.  Right, guess I wouldn’t buy that either, considering the ratio of your fish caught verses, uh mine."

  

Jack swallowed his pride and held his arm out.  He couldn’t watch as the reel was placed in his outstretched hand.

  

"Wake me when the sun starts setting, Jack.  If you've caught more fish than me by then I'll cook tonight."  George leaned back in the lounger and placed his fishing boonie over his face.

  

Jack sighed.  He knew who'd be cooking tonight.  "Yep, paradise."

  

He speared the second hook with his latest lure, "Sure to catch the one that got away!" was what it had read on the website.  As he worked the two reels to try to cast, another fish taunted him.  "You're mine," he announced. 

  

"Jack."

  

"Oh, sorry."  He cast the second reel in the location he had seen the smug fish, now a ripple in the water and whispered, "your hours are numbered, fish."

  

~~~

  

As the sun set, two lines were still cast in the water, untouched.  Two ice boxes sat next to two lounge chairs, one full and the other still dreadfully empty.  In the lounge chairs, two prone forms snored away, loudly.