Author's Website: alf.populli.net, carodee.popullus.net
Season/Episode: Pre-shows
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Summary: Jack and Jim's first meeting many years ago.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: This story was rewritten as gen by Caro Dee from ALF's slash story, Command Performance, which can be found on this archive in the DC fanfic section. Thanks go to Sheila for grammar and fishing beta. WoD/NS's input on the last section improved it greatly.

Being in the countryside allowed him to pretend he was back in the jungle, where life had seemed so much simpler and no one thought he was a freak. It also seemed to be the only time his senses remained at the heightened levels he'd become accustomed to in Peru. Gradually, they were fading back to normal, whatever that was, as Jim worked to suppress his memories of that time. Remembering was just too damn painful.

Gradually, Jim stepped up the pace, until he was running flat out, enjoying the sensations of the wind around him, the ground under his feet, the freedom. He carefully ignored the half-remembered sensation of running on four feet, sleek muscles under black fur. Instead, he chose to concentrate on the present, taking in deep lungfuls of the pine-scented air. As he continued the circuit that he followed every day, Jim became aware of someone up ahead of him; another man, who seemed to be struggling.

Jim could hear harsh breathing that suggested the man was trying too hard, and, without knowing how he knew, somehow sensed that this man was the other "guest" at the facility. He had heard the operatives talking, when they believed themselves unheard, about the flyboy who'd been a prisoner in Iraq. The house they were staying in was large enough that their keepers were able to keep their two guests apart.

Jim was sure that the fact they were out running at the same time was a mistake, one that someone would no doubt try and rectify soonest. In the meantime, though, he could hear that the other man was now cursing volubly, and Jim speeded up yet again. It sounded like the flyboy was suffering from cramps and Jim hurried to catch up to him, strangely eager to meet this mystery man and find out about him.

Jack knocked clumsily on the door and swore as he almost dropped one of the coffees. The door opened and an agent stood there, gun out, staring at him suspiciously. Jack smiled sheepishly at him. "Hey there. How're you doing?"

"What are you doing here?" the man asked roughly.

"I'm not confined to quarters and I'm exploring. Don't you get bored at night sometimes and just want to go for a walk? Talk to someone, anyone, rather than listen to yourself think?"

Over the young man's shoulder, Jack could see the monitors. Somewhere on one of them, Jim was slipping through the corridors down to the basement level where he could liberate weapons and supplies for their escape. Jack had to give him a little more time.

"I, uh, brought you some coffee."

The agent glanced at it dismissively. "I can't take that."

"Oh right," Jack nodded and winked. "Might be drugged. Here." He took a large sip from one cup and gasped. "Hot!" This time when he held out the cup, the agent stared at the cup another moment, debating internally, then took it.

"So, anything happening? Must be pretty boring watching at night, huh?"

The agent shrugged and smiled. The first sip of coffee seemed to mellow him. "Orders are orders. Better than getting my butt shot off."

Jack grimaced. "Tell me about it."

Casually shooting the breeze and carefully not looking at the monitors, Jack quickly found out the agent was named Millson, he was engaged but hadn't set the date, he'd been stationed there four months so far, he disliked his superior officer, yadda, yadda.

After ten minutes, he figured Jim had had enough time. Jack swallowed the last of his coffee and said, with feigned reluctance, "Well, better let you get back to work. I'm gonna take another walk around. Thanks for the chat."

Jack ambled through the corridors for the benefit of the camera surveillance, then just outside one of the bathrooms, he moved into the camera's blind spots, got down and crawled around the corner and out of the employee entrance.

It was dark outside. Jack made his way as quietly and quickly as he could to the pre-arranged meeting place. He still jumped when Jim's voice came out the darkness. "What took you so long? Was there a problem?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Piece of cake. I don't know what kind of training these CIA ops get, but this guy was green. A cuppa java got me more intel than interrogation with electrodes could have."

Jim laughed softly. "Here. You take these. I'll carry the supplies."

Jack grabbed the fishing poles. The faint clink of glass told him that Jim had liberated the good beer. Sweet.

The fishing escapade was their one pleasant memory during that time. They'd gotten a little drunk and fumbled their way through the actual fishing part, laughing like loons and shushing each other frantically. Jack slipped into the water while attempting to position their lone flashlight so that the small circle of light wouldn't be visible to the searchers. Jim got Jack's hook caught in his shirt and getting that out without ripping the uniform to shreds was no easy task. Not to mention that unhappy, squirming fish were in no mood to cooperate with having hooks removed so they could be released back into the water. But the beer was good.

Neither man discussed the reasons for their being there. Instead, they talked about personal things. Jack spoke longingly about Sarah and Charlie and showed Jim their picture. Jim talked a little about his hometown, Cascade, and his upcoming plans to take some R&R in Bali. It was a small oasis of time where they forgot about being soldiers and remembered they were men first.

It was likely that security would be tightened after this adventure, and they probably wouldn't get a chance to spend time together like this again before being sent off to go their separate ways in the world. But for now, the beer, the fishing, the comfortable company -- for now, it was enough.