Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: A | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT A Human Reaction
By Jacob Clifton | Season 1 | Episode 16 | Aired on 08.19.1999
Immediate cut to Jack, having taken care of those assholes somehow, entering the cell. John's so happy to see his dad, so tired and desperate: "Dad. Get me out of here, please." Jack hates the conditions: "I need to ask you some questions," he murmurs, sick. John is minorly taken aback at the idea that his dad's siding against him with IASA. Again. This is a show that can't turn down the opportunity to go back to kindergarten with old John on a regular basis. On the other hand, the only thing worse than seeing John at the absolute edge of losing it, as normal, is seeing him happy, because that's when you know the awful shit is really going to come down. He snorts, and they stand, silent. Jack crosses around behind John so that he won't have to look at his son's hurt and accusation, and asks, "What happened on your tenth birthday?" John's confused for a second, and Jack can't meet his eyes. John: "I don't know. I can't remember." Jack leads him, reminding him that they were living in Annapolis. "Annapolis? Right. You were late. Again." Jack falls, because the guilt of his career choices, and the sight of seeing the continuing effect they have on his grown son, are two different sides of the same pain. "Why?" asks Jack. "You said," John says, sighing, remembering, "you said they held you at Houston for tests. You missed your flight. But you commandeered a jet and you came, anyway." Jack smiles a little, and nods. "I woke you up at 4 o'clock in the morning." Jack took his son fishing, John remembers, and Jack nods again, nearly crying. "And you caught the biggest damn bass I'd ever seen." John, stung: "It was a trout, Dad." (Note: if John and Jack ever meet again, this will be the question, because it sums up the sadder, scarred side of their history. It was a trout, not a bass, and even in remembering Jack can't help but screw it up, and that stays with John.) Jack swallows, but nods: "It was a trout. I missed you, son." They embrace, holding tight, and Jack sighs in relief. John's almost gone. He whispers softly, "What's going on? I know recovery procedure as well as anyone. This is way beyond routine." But Jack's on it: "Nothing's been routine since the day you left, seven months ago. That wormhole you went through is still there. You opened a door, son. A door to Earth we don't know how to close." John whispers, "Get me out of here," and Jack promises he will. Promises all of it, squeezing his eyes shut, holding his son, once lost and now found.
Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22Next