This is a fanfiction birthday story that appeared on the seaQuest mailing list in June of 95. Comments should be sent to the author Deanna Toxopeus . Happy Disclaimer: Universal, Amblin, and NBC own the butts of the usual group of characters. What I do to them in this story belongs to me. Steal it, and I will let Mars wax poetic about Lonnie until your mind turns to pudding. Capiche? Then with no further ado . . . Ford's Birthday by Deanna Toxopeus To say that Commander Jonathan Ford was not in a good mood would be an understatement. If he had been a cartoon character there would be a black cloud, complete with lightning bolts, drawn over his head. His day had started horrible, and was not getting any better. By all rights, it should have been a wonderful day. Today was the fourth day of March. His thirty-first birthday. Traditionally Jonathan Ford took a day's leave on his birthday. He had been scheduled to do so this year but three days ago, when they hit port, Captain Bridger had announced that since Dr. Westphalen was in town, he would be taking a day's leave. Lieutenant Brody had volunteered to be the IC, but then he had come down with food poisoning last night. That left only Jonathan to be the shift IC. So since he woke up at 5:30 p.m., Jonathan Ford had been plagued with all of the little problems being in port brought. First it had been the three sailors who had been reported AWOL. They had been partying and had missed the last shuttle. Ford had confined them to seaQuest for the remainder of their time in port. The problems had come fast and furious for the rest of the day. Lunch had consisted of a grilled cheese that Seaman Chiu brought him from the galley. He hadn't had time for dinner. Then at 9:30 p.m. a call came from the mainland. Apparently Tony Piccolo had gone on a bender and gotten into a brawl. Now the police department was saying that they would only release him to officer in charge of the sub. That meant that Commander Ford had to take a shuttle, go ashore and get Tony, leaving a highly nervous Tim O'Neill in charge. Since the sub was functioning with a skeleton staff, Commander Ford could not afford to take anyone with him. So, on his thirty-first birthday, here he was sitting at the dockside police station filling out forms so that he could take a drunken seaman back to the sub. "We've cleaned him up as best we can Commander," Officer Cardenas said as she looked over the final form, "but you still might want to have your medical staff take a look at him." Seeing that everything was in order, she signed the form and then stamped it. She then pressed a button on the intercom and asked for Seaman Piccolo to be brought to the release desk. "Was the fight that bad?" Jonathan asked, becoming more than a little concerned. Officer Cardenas looked up from her paperwork. "The usual navy brawl. Chains, brass knuckles. We confiscated at least seven illegal weapons. From what I saw, your sailor had at only one knife wound. You navy types really party hard once you hit port." Any response he might have made was cut short by the arrival of Tony Piccolo, handcuffed and escorted by police officers. His left eye was black, his lower left lip was split and he had a bandage on his lower right arm. He was also three sheets to the wind. Piccolo flashed Ford a toothy grin when he caught sight of him. "Even'en khom-mander!" He even tried to wave, but the handcuffs that threw him of balance. He stumbled and bumped into one of his escorts. Ford shook his head. This was going to be fun. Jonathan gestured to Tony's wrists. "He won't be needing those cuffs anymore, Officer." One of Tony's escorts raised his eyebrow, and looked at Officer Cardenas. With a look of disbelief, she nodded her approval. The escort removed Piccolo's cuffs. Tony rubbed his wrists and swayed on his feet. "Come on Piccolo," Ford said, taking the seaman by his good arm, "let's go home." Due to Tony's intoxication, the five minute trip down to the shuttle had taken close to half an hour. It would have taken longer had Officer Cardenas hadn't sent an officer to help. Once there Tony, claiming seasickness, had argued that he didn't want to get on to the shuttle. Jonathan had not even tried to reason with him. With more than a little pleasure, Commander Ford had ordered the police officer to put Tony in the shuttle. From the force that the officer used, Jonathan was sure that he enjoyed it as well. * * * * "Khom-mander!" Tony had been quiet most of the way back to the seaQuest, so his sudden speech startled Jonathan. "Yes, Tony." "I tink that I'm gonna be sikh!" Oh god! "Then go use the bathroom." Tony whipped his head from side to side. "No Khom-mander. I can't get up. Room'th moving to fast." Damn it! Jonathan put the shuttle on autopilot, undid his seat belt and started to pull Tony out of his chair. Too late! Tony began to wretch and heave, as the contents of his stomach spewed out. Jonathan managed to twist his body out of the way, so he was spared being covered in vomit. Unfortunately his shoes were not so lucky. Jonathan thrust Tony into the bathroom and started to clean him up. He was interrupted by the beeping of the shuttle's com-link. "Ford here!" Bridger's voice crackled through the intercom. "Good evening Commander! I understand you're having a problem with Seaman Piccolo?" "Yes sir." Jonathan explained the situation. There was a pause after Jonathan finished his story. He could picture Bridger leaning back in his chair, thinking about the situation. "Bring him straight to my quarters once you get here. I'll deal with him then." "Sir, Piccolo was sick to his stomach in the sub. Could I . . ." "No Jonathan, no side trips. Bring him straight to me. Bridger out." Jonathan looked at his shoes. The day possible couldn't get any worse, he thought as he sunk into his chair. * * * * The walk from the shuttle bay to the captain's quarters had been humiliating, to say the least. Crew members went out of the way to avoid them. Jonathan couldn't decide if it was because of the smell or because of Tony's lurching and reeling. By the time they got to the captain's quarters, he was resigned to his fate. With a heavy sigh Jonathan pressed the button on the intercom beside the door. Captain Bridger was smiling when he opened the door. "Ah, gentlemen! I was expecting you. Please come in." Piccolo lurched his was pass Bridger, but Jonathan stayed in the hallway. The old man was just a little too jovial. Something was up. "Are you coming Commander?" There was now a tone in the Captain's voice that one did not ignore. Jonathan stepped passed him into the room. "SURPRISE!!!!!!!" The noise was deafening. Jonathan jumped. The room was filled with people. There were streamers on the walls. There was a cake on the table. The formerly inebriated Tony Piccolo was now sober . . . and laughing. Ensign Henderson put a cardboard hat on his head, and slipped the elastic under his chin as she started a round of Happy Birthday. Everyone else in the room quickly joined in. Henderson then put her hand in the middle of Jonathan's back and propelled him towards the table where the cake was. It was obvious he was expected to blow the candles out. Dumbfounded, he did. Henderson, after planting a kiss on his cheek, retired to the corner where O'Neill, Ortiz, Spyridon and Lucas were sitting with huge grins on their faces. Dagwood, wearing a hat that was identical to Jonathan's, was sitting in the Captain's easy chair. Brody waved from his seat between Dr. Smith and Lieutenant (j.g.) Wong. Obviously the food poisoning, like Tony's intoxication, had been fabricated. And standing beside Captain Bridger was Dr. Kristen Westphalen. "Happy Birthday Jonathan!" She said as she enfolded him in a hug. "What are you doing here?" He asked, still a little dazed from all this attention. "When Nathan mentioned it was your birthday, I knew I had to come!" Captain Bridger put a glass of champaign in his hand. "I think there is someone else who sends his best wishes." Jonathan looked to where Bridger had pointed and saw Darwin peering through the window of the access. Yes everyone had turned out for his birthday. It was impossible not to laugh. "Whose idea was this?" Captain Bridger pointed at Tony Piccolo, who was sampling the icing. "Yeah, maybe originally," Tony said, "but it wasn't until Henderson got involved that things got out of hand." He pointed across the room to where Loni was firmly ensconced in O'Neill's arms. Henderson didn't even look guilty as she started to giggle. "Tony," Jonathan asked, "what about your injuries?" "Fake," Piccolo explained as he wiped the blood off his lip. "One of Brody's SEALS is a casualty simulator." He then used the napkin to wipe the make-up off his eye. "Good one too! The rest was my natural acting talent." "But you threw-up?" "Yeah, I used to do it all the time in school. Used to freak-out the nuns. Great way to get out of class." "The jail?" Jim Brody put his hand up. "Old buddy of mine. Getting Tony arrested, cost me the price dinner." He took a sip of his drink, and smiled slyly. "We should remember this." Jonathan laughed and then looked around the room, making eye contact with each of his friends in turn. "Well I want to thank you all. This," he said, his voice full of laughter, "is the most memorable birthday I've ever had." There was a round of applause. "Commander," Piccolo said in a loud whisper, leaning in close. "You've got to do something about those shoes." He pointed down and waved his hand in front of his nose. Again the room was filled with laughter. Jonathan looked at Piccolo for a moment, then reached down and pulled the bandage off the seaman's arm . . . taking as much arm hair with it as possible. Tony's yelp of pain could be heard as far as the Bridge. / Deanna Toxopeus Numquam obliviscaris tua tela fact / Carleton University ab eis qui minima liciti sunt / dtoxopeu@ccs.carleton.ca / St. John Ambulance Brigade Never forget your weapon is / MA Student - Canadian History made by the lowest bidder / Questie, Sentinel, fanfic author / http://www.carleton.ca/~dtoxopeu/