Chapter Text
The teenager strolled past the stalls at the bazaar, pausing every now and then when some interesting item caught his eye. He was looking for something bright and colourful. Something that would hopefully make his ma forget about being mad at him for wandering around the streets of Cairo by himself. Hopefully, distract her from mentioning it to his pa, who’d tan his hide raw for this escapade.
Wandering the back streets of the city alone was dangerous for any westerner, especially if you were an American and doubly especially if you were military; or, in the fifteen year old's case, military brat. Colonel Patrick O’Neill had been transferred to Egypt two weeks ago. Accompanying him was his wife Rose, and his sons Jack and Pat Jr. His eldest child, Anne, had remained in the States, currently in her second year of studying fashion design at college. And one of the first things he had forbidden his sons to do was wander on their own. According to him, they’d end up having everything down to their underwear stolen, be beaten insensible, kidnapped and sold or end up very, very dead.
So Jack, naturally, couldn’t resist the challenge.
Besides, he was convinced his pa was just exaggerating and being over paranoid. Must be a side effect of being in the Air Force for all his adult life.
Which was why Jack now found himself in front of a stall fingering a colourful linen scarf that was destined to pacify his ma.
He had heard about these types of bazaar markets and had looked forward to trying his hand at bargaining with the stallholders over their products. The only trouble was, he had just realized he couldn’t understand a single world the man was saying. Damn.
He was feeling more and more out of his depth when he heard English being spoken.
“You don’t speak Arabic, do you? Do you want some help here?” The voice came from right behind him.
Jack spun around, his father's warning leaping to the front of his mind, expecting to see some dark, dangerous Egyptian thug ready to steal, beat or kill. Instead, lowering his gaze, he espied a small, grubby boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, with a curious and helpful expression on his face.
Jack relaxed when he caught sight of the little tyke. Just a kid.
Jack brightened. By the sound of it, just a kid who spoke English as well as the local lingo. And judging by the thin and dirty look of him, plus the hopeful expression, eager to be of help to the clueless foreigner in exchange for some monetary reward for his efforts.
Well, why not? That would mean he could buy the scarf and get his ma off his back. Sweet!
“Yeah! Sure, that’d be great. Thanks!”
The boy gave Jack a bright smile, stepped up to the table and proceeded to quickly chatter to the man with the stall. He had no idea what was being said, but after ten minutes of excited exchanges of words and gestures, the lad proudly announced a price of 17 Egyptian pounds. Jack took a minute to convert that in his head to three or four US dollars.
Happy with the bargain he was getting, he forked over the required cash and took possession of the beautiful scarf. Turning away from the stall with the young boy, Jack passed him a few pounds and gave him a grin.
“Thanks for that. I don’t really think I knew what I was doing there.”
“My pleasure,” the boy responded with a polite bow. Well, an awkward polite bow, but it was obvious the little tyke was trying to emulate his elders in their dealings. Trouble was, he was bit clumsy and stumbled into the older boy.
Jack refrained from laughing in amusement at the kid's efforts and straightened him up.
“Well, I gotta get going now or my ma will be looking for me. Thanks again. See ya ‘round.”
He gave a small wave and headed back the way he'd come, headed for their new house. Looking back, he saw the lad disappear into the crowd.
Feeling hungry, he stopped at a vendor selling food of some sort that he couldn’t recognize but still looked edible. Reaching for his money, his hand didn’t encounter what it was searching for. Checking all his pockets, he discovered they were all void of his wallet, loose change, keys, a few of his favored marbles, the letter from his now long-distance girlfriend and a small necklace he had bought for said long-distance girlfriend. The scarf for his ma was still in his hand. He also noticed his cool military watch, the one his friends back home had all been jealous of, was gone.
“Oh, crap!” Jack panicked slightly, trying to think how, when, where, who, why. His pockets had been occupied when he bought the scarf.
He then remembered the boy; his clumsy attempt at a bow and how he’d stumbled into Jack.
Shit! It was that damn kid! That little kid was a damn pickpocket!
Crap. There was no way he could keep this from his parents now. The kid had gotten his keys and wallet. Unfortunately, he had to notify his ma and pa. Colonel Patrick was going to be madder than a cut snake. He just hoped the scarf would calm his ma a bit as she could get as scary or scarier than the old man.
Dejectedly, he turned for home, cursing that pint-sized fiend who’d just relieved him of his belongings.