Work Text:
Chapter Six
“Original History”
June 12, 1984
She sat on the couch in the dark living room, waiting. He’d be stumbling through the door soon, and this time she meant to confront him. He was tearing apart their marriage, and she’d had enough. Tonight, she’d get satisfaction. One way, or another. She had a surprise for him, something he’d never expect of her. Something, in truth, she’d never contemplated before three days ago. That’s when she’d met someone who’d opened her eyes to reality.
Zoe Barrows was frustrated. The marriage had ended in an ugly divorce, and she’d barely had enough money to move out of state. She did a bit better than that – she’d moved halfway across the country, settling in New Mexico. She’d gone back to her maiden name, and found work at a halfway house for battered women. She wanted to help others in abusive relationships, whether that abuse was mental or physical. But it was so...soul-draining, seeing women with their bodies and spirits battered returning time and again to the men who were destroying them. Some were strong enough to leave, to get out with their minds and bodies intact. But there were more, so many more, who only got out in a coroner’s van. And she couldn’t do anything to stop the cycle.
It was worse when there were children involved. So many women would accept the abuse to spare their children, but Zoe knew that more often than not, eventually the children would become the victims as well. Men who abused children deserved a special level of hell as far as she was concerned.
She’d just closed a file that made her sick to her heart to even think about. A young mother and her two-year-old girl had been raped to death by the woman’s pig of a husband, who took the coward’s way out and ended his own life before the police got there. Zoe left her office and went down to the local watering hole, hoping to deaden her mind to the images from the crime scene photos. That there were men like that in the world and there was nothing anyone could do made her want to scream, made her want to go on a rampage and trash everything in sight.
Instead she sat on a stool and ordered a double shot of Chivas Regal.
“Drinking the good stuff, I see,” a male voice said from two stools down from her.
The bar was nearly empty in the middle of the day, and Zoe turned to see a dark-skinned stranger in a dark blue suit watching her.
“Anything to dull the pain,” she replied, knocking back the shot as if it was nothing.
“Care to talk about it?”
Normally she would have snorted in derision, or moved further down the bar, but for some reason she didn’t. Instead she nodded to the bartender, and moved closer to the man. As she settled on the stool next to him, she introduced herself. “Zoe.”
“Thames,” he replied. “Like the river.”
Zoe arched an eyebrow and sipped her second shot.
“So, Zoe, what brings you to this fine establishment in the middle of the work week?”
“Work,” she replied, finishing her shot and setting the glass on the bar. When the bartender came down, she changed her drink. “Black and tan.” The bartender nodded and moved off to prepare the drink.
“Woman after my own heart,” Thames said approvingly.
Zoe sized him up, and offered him a smile. “You have no idea what kind of reaction that would’ve gotten me back home,” she said.
“I take it you don’t mean Jolly Old England when you say that.”
This time Zoe did snort. “New York, actually. Where I met and divorced my husband.” When the bartender brought her cocktail she held it up to the light and nodded. “Beautiful the way the colors are so perfectly balanced.” She took a sip and smiled.
“I was going to say the same thing,” Thames said, leaning closer to her.
Zoe let out a startled laugh. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
“When I see something I like, I go after it,” he replied. “And I like you a lot, Zoe.”
They ended up talking the rest of the afternoon, sitting at a small table in the far corner of the bar. Zoe told him about her ex-husband, how she was too “common” for his family, too “British” for the circles he moved in, how belittling he could be when they were in public together. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, and filed for divorce, which he readily agreed to. It wasn’t until after the papers were signed that she discovered he’d been cheating on her; his mistress actually hand-delivered the papers to her.
“Harsh,” Thames remarked, shaking his head.
“Life,” she replied.
“It is, isn’t it?”
She raised an eyebrow. She’d been expecting him to give her some banal speech about how life isn’t fair, no one ever promised it was, and all those other tired clichés. “That’s...”
He shrugged. “Hey, life is harsh. I’m not going to sit here and try to make you feel better by calling him a bastard, or saying you deserve better. He is and you do.” He leaned across the table and took her hand where it rested next to her drink. “But what would you say if I could offer you a way to get a little bit of...shall we say, revenge?”
She looked into his eyes. She could tell he was serious, and not just jerking her chain. “Nothing illegal, I hope,” she answered, only half joking. There had been more than a few times she’d considered trashing his Mercedes, or throwing his entire wardrobe into the front yard and setting it on fire. But doing something like that would only make her feel good for a while. And her ex had so much money it wouldn’t really faze him.
“Not at all.”
“Damn.”
He sat back and blinked in surprise. “Well. Not exactly the response I was expecting. I think you and I are going to have a long, pleasant relationship, Zoe.”
She lifted her glass. “The start of a beautiful friendship,” she toasted.
“I’ll drink to that,” Thames replied, touching her glass with his own.
After she drank she asked, “Now, what do you have in mind?”
“Time travel,” he said simply.
Once again, Zoe knew he wasn’t kidding. She thought about it for a few moments. It made perfect sense; go back to before the divorce, and find proof of the mistress, and use that information against him. Not just in the settlement, either – she could ruin his entire career. “Tell me more,” she requested with an icy smile.
He’d been drinking more lately. Staying out later at that damn project he worked at. She was fairly certain he was having an affair, probably with that twit Donna. Or that other one...what was her name..Tina. Hell, maybe both. Didn’t matter. She’d make him pay. He’d find out he couldn’t mess around and get away with it. He couldn’t stumble in at all hours of the night, four sheets to the wind, and pass out cold on the bed. Or the living room floor if he couldn’t make it up the stairs. That wasn’t how a marriage worked. They’d taken vows, dammit. To stand by each other. “Sickness” wasn’t supposed to be his drinking. She’d take his “richer” and make him “poorer.” Or maybe...
Alone in the dark, she waited, caressing the handle of the revolver on her lap.
The next day Thames took Zoe to meet a man named Sebastian LoNigro, who was in charge of the project that was being developed to explore the possibility of time travel. According to Thames, LoNigro had been a professor at MIT, and a little over ten years ago a very brilliant young student of his had come up with a theory that promised to hold the key to traveling back within one’s own life.
Zoe was out of her element as far as the quantum mechanics were concerned, but the “string theory” Thames laid out actually made some sense to her. She was fascinated by the prospect of being able to revisit different days of her life.
“We’re still working out the kinks,” Thames told her, “and it might be years before we can actually build a working accelerator.”
“A...what?” Zoe asked, running a finger along the edge of a waist-high console.
“The quantum accelerator, the chamber that the person will step into to get sent back into time,” he explained. “We have the basic design, but we’re running out of funds.”
After a few moments of quiet thought, Zoe looked over at him. “I actually might have a solution to that problem,” she suggested.
“Oh? Do tell.”
“I have a...client who is married to a drunken lout. For the time being. So far he hasn’t raised a hand against her, but...it’s only a matter of time. I’ve...convinced her to...confront him about the drinking, and other...issues that are ruining their marriage. She’s very susceptible to suggestion.”
“All right. But how does that help us?”
Zoe smiled. “He’s an Admiral in the Navy.”
Thames smiled slowly as he realized what she was implying, and rubbed his hands together. “Ooh, I do like how your mind works! Are you thinking divorce settlement? Or blackmail?”
Zoe favored him with that icy smile again. “Insurance pay-out.”
Thames laughed loudly at that. “Zoe, this is a match made in hell!”
“Isn’t it just?”
A friend had referred her to a very nice British lady who helped with “domestic issues,” as she called them. At first she’d balked at the idea of taking her troubles to a stranger, but she was at her wit’s end. She’d thought they were in love; they’d met in Jersey City at a tattoo parlor, and he’d said (and done) all the right things. He even supported her when she tried to be a professional in the roller derby. But after they were married, and moved to New Mexico, things had taken a turn for the worse.
She knew he’d been married before, but that didn’t bother her. What did bother her was that he couldn’t seem to get over his first wife. He talked about her far too much, and the dumbest little things would remind him of her. He couldn’t hear the song “Georgia” by Ray Charles without breaking down in tears.
When he got the job at the secret government project, he grew more distant. He started drinking heavily, and putting in longer and longer hours at work. One night he came home roaring drunk and started yelling at her about dinner being cold, despite the fact that it was nine o’clock at night and he was three hours late. They almost came to blows during that fight, and he spent the night on the couch.
A week ago he’d accused her of having an affair, and three days ago she finally went to see the social worker.
And now...well, she’d seen a lawyer and had papers drawn up. This marriage was going to end. One way or another, she was getting out. She deserved better. Her social worker had told her so, and she trusted her. So far he’d never actually hit her, but she knew he was going to go through the roof when she handed him the papers. The gun...was just extra insurance. She was just sorry that she’d have to raise their baby...no, her baby, by herself. She couldn’t bring a child into this home if she feared for her life.
She wouldn’t tell him about the child. He’d taken all the happiness from her life. She needed this one little bit, needed to keep it to herself. Besides, he’d said over and over that he didn’t want children. So he’d never know. She’d move away, change her name, bring the baby up by herself. And sue him for every penny he had, over as many years as it took to drain his accounts dry. And since he was an Admiral in the Navy, and worked for the government, she expected to live a long, happy life of luxury, while he suffered in misery.
When Professor LoNigro finally made an appearance, he had a slight blonde woman with him. He introduced her as Alia, and said she was a volunteer. “She’ll be the first one to try out the chamber,” he said proudly.
Zoe sized the young woman up quickly, and realized immediately by her demeanor that she was submissive. That offered so many...delicious possibilities it was all Zoe could do to keep from rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
Instead, she said, “Professor, we haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Zoe, and I think I have a solution to your funding problems.”
The professor cocked an eyebrow as he shook hands with her, and looked over at Thames. “You’re right – she doesn’t beat around the bush.” He smiled at her. “Welcome aboard, Zoe. Why don’t you ladies follow me, and we’ll get to know each other better? In fact...” He cocked his head to one side as a thought came to him. “Zoe, if you’d be willing, I’d like to run some basic brain scans. I think I have the perfect position for you with our little group here.”
“Oh?” she asked, just a hint of frost in her voice. She’d been under the impression that Thames was in charge, but it seemed this LoNigro was the one calling the shots. For now.
“Yes. It would be helpful for the...traveler to have someone along to...observe.”
“You wanna stick me in some weird...atom-scrambling machine and send me back in time?” she inquired, making it sound as if she was offended.
“Oh, no. No, you misunderstood. Alia here will be doing the actual traveling. You’d just be...an observer. Not physically there, just...well, what do you know about holograms?”
Somewhere in the New Mexican desert, September 15, 1999
“Sam! This is crazy! You don’t even know who this Al is!”
“That’s the thing, Donna. I do know him. I-I can’t explain it, I...I just know...I have to find him.”
“But you just got home,” she protested. “I can’t lose you again!”
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “And I can’t leave him back there. Donna...I’ll come home again. I promise you. But this is something I have to do. I...I can’t explain how I know, or why, but...Al needs to be here. He needs to be part of my life.”
She shook her head, and tears began to fall. “No. I won’t let you. Not when you’ve just come back to me.”
He pulled her to him. “Honey...” He sighed. God, this was hard. He was asking her to risk losing him in time again, for someone she didn’t know, someone that... “Alpha?”
“Yes, Doctor Beckett?”
“When did Admiral Albert Calavicci die?”
The computer was quiet for a while, then replied, “According to the newspaper clipping, he was killed by his current wife, his fifth, if I might point out, on June 12, 1984.”
Donna blinked, and looked at Sam with a slight frown. “That’s...”
“When I joined Star Bright,” he finished, nodding. “That’s it. That...has to be it. Alpha, was Admiral Calavicci...”
“Part of the Star Bright project at that time? Yes, he was, Doctor.”
“Sam, what are you thinking?”
“Four years ago, my first Leap was target-less, subject to a whim of fate. Since then I think my subconscious has been working on the problem, because I now know how to direct my Leap.” He let go of her and crossed to the console. He rapidly keyed in a sequence and requested, “Tina, get me a Fermi suit.”
The pulse-communications technician frowned, then hurried off. She quickly returned, and handed him the white one-piece body suit.
“Thank you.” As he stepped into it, he outlined his plan.
June 12, 1984
She started wondering what time it was. It was late, that much she knew. It was always late when she was waiting for him to get home. She considered turning on the lamp to check her watch, but she didn’t want him knowing she was sitting on the couch when he came home. It needed to be a surprise. A big surprise.
As she sat there, she began to feel a strange tingling sensation, something like a faint electrical buzz across her skin. At first she thought perhaps it was nerves, just the expectation of what was to come. But as it intensified, coursing through her very nerves, she began to panic. Was she having a stroke? A heart attack?
And then in the dark Maxine smiled, and tightened her grip on the gun, thumbing off the safety. The first time she’d only had the gun to scare him, put a little fear into him. But this time...oh, this time things would be different. Zoe had explained it all to her, had even suggested what to do when she got here. As soon as her miserable louse of a husband walked in the door, or stumbled as was more likely the case, she’d turn the lamp on and level the gun at his chest. She’d give him two choices – divorce, or death. As soon as he bent to sign the papers, she’d put a bullet in his heart, and then call the cops in a panic, claiming he came at her and she shot him in self-defense.
It would make sense; she’d been telling people that she feared for her life, that he had a history of getting violent when he was drunk, and she was scared for the baby.
Maybe she should tell him about the child. Maybe that’d push him over the edge. He was already worked up about his upcoming birthday (as if 50 was that big a deal anymore) and he’d said something about the government putting pressure on him at work. Maybe they’d cut his salary, and the stress of a baby would be too much.
Yes, that would be a good idea. Freak him out with that news. He’d be drunk, as usual, and if she timed things right, she could have the satisfaction of seeing his face as the reality sunk in.
New Mexico, 1999
After he got done with his explanation, Sam waited quietly. He could just run into the Accelerator like he did four years ago, but he really wanted his wife’s support. Somehow she had to understand what this meant to him, what Al meant to him. She’d held him in the night when he’d awoken from nightmares of seeing Al’s face fading away, seeing the hurt in the other man’s dark eyes. Sam was positive that there was some...inexplicable connection between them, even though he couldn’t remember ever having met the Admiral. It was if they’d known each other in a different life...
“Go,” Donna ordered, wiping away the tears.
Sam looked at her. “What?”
“Go. Save Al.”
He hugged her close, fearing he’d never see her again, but holding out hope that somehow he would. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “I swear to God I’ll be back.” He kissed her quickly, then hurried up the ramp to the Accelerator Chamber. This was the hardest thing he’d ever done, leaving her like this. For the four years he’d been bouncing around in time, he hadn’t remembered her. Not until moments before the retrieval program finally worked, and he was pulled through the decades to his own time. But to leave her like this, to go off again somewhere, in the hopes of saving someone he didn’t really know, just felt like he did...
He turned to look at his wife as the door slid shut in front of him, and the quantum effect started to take hold. It was exhilarating standing on that disc as the very fabric of reality distorted around him. And just like the first time all those years ago, he lifted his arms out to his sides, put back his head and laughed at the sheer audacity of what he was doing.
Top-secret government project, undisclosed location, June 12, 1984
As he walked into the lab, he could hear the sounds of something battering metal, and breaking glass. He picked up his pace, and came around the corner to find someone beating a vending machine with a hammer. He fought down a chuckle – there’d been a time or two when he’d felt the same urge. But there was a desperation about the man’s actions, some need to do damage to something that couldn’t be physically harmed.
The man was cursing vehemently in another language as he swung the hammer. He slid his hand down to the bottom of the handle and wound up to deliver a powerful blow to the side of the machine.
“You know, I never studied Italian.”
Thankfully, all his years of studying martial arts had sharpened his reflexes, because the startled man spun around and nearly caught him in the shoulder with the hammer.
Catching the hammer as it swung past his face, he easily wrested it from the other man’s grip, and then smiled and said, “I’m new here. Name’s Sam.”
The other man blinked at him, and it took him a while to focus. “Al,” he grunted in response, then turned back to the offending machine and attempted to kick it.
“Whoa, easy there,” Sam said, pulling Al back before he hurt himself. “What did that vending machine do, anyway?”
“Ate my dime,” Al griped, slipping free of Sam’s grasp. “I really needed that coffee, too,” he muttered, staggering over to a table and sinking into the chair. He put his elbows on the table, buried his face in his hands, and groaned.
Sam put the hammer on a high shelf, then went over and sat across the table from Al. “Want to talk about it?” he asked kindly.
“Nosy bugger, aren’t you?” Al grumped. Then he sighed, rubbed his face with both hands, and looked over at Sam. Al was quite handsome, except that his eyes were bloodshot, his dark curly hair in complete disarray, and his face haggard. “Sorry. Just...having a bad day.”
“So I gathered,” Sam said in sympathy. “Offer still stands.”
Al frowned. “What...oh.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, why not?” He sat up straighter and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it down. “Proper introductions are probably in order first. Admiral Albert Calavicci.”
“Doctor Samuel Beckett.”
Al’s eyebrows rose. “You’re him. That...wunderkind everyone’s been going on about.”
Sam frowned. “I guess you could say that.”
“Yeah, you’re him,” Al stated, nodding to himself. “Now that I get a good look, I recognize you from the cover of TIME. Didn’t you pretty much sail through MIT?”
Sam was uncomfortable talking about himself, and just shrugged. “Yeah. Only took me two years.”
Al whistled. “I had a helluva time, myself. But then I’m no super-genius.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t dumb,” Sam pointed out. “MIT, now here. And you’re pretty good at changing the subject.”
Al smiled for the first time. “Damn.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Figured that’d work. Get you talking about yourself, and you’d forget about my troubles.”
“Not gonna happen,” Sam denied. “So...talk. What’s got you so angry you had to take your frustrations out on an innocent vending machine?”
“Not so innocent. It ate my dime.”
Sam dug in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He held it out to Al. “Here. That’ll get you two coffees, and I’m buying information with the other five cents.”
Al laughed. “I like you, Sam!”
“And I think I’m going to like you, too, Al.” Sam smiled warmly.
The two new friends sat at the table talking for hours; Al told Sam about growing up in an orphanage, joining the Navy and serving in Vietnam, then coming home to find his first wife had him declared dead while he was POW and remarrying, and Sam told Al about growing up on the farm in Indiana, losing his older brother in Vietnam, and his little sister marrying an abusive alcoholic. Al cringed at that, and remarked, “I know what that’s like firsthand. So far I haven’t struck my wife, but...”
“Well, the first thing we have to do is get you sobered up,” Sam said. “Then we’ll work on the other stuff.”
Al stared at him, and slowly shook his head. “I don’t know who you are, Sam Beckett, but I thank God you...fell into my life when you did.”
Sam sat quietly for a few moments. There was no way he could explain himself, how he was actually from fifteen years in the future, and had come back to make sure they met because he had a vague feeling he knew Al from a past life. He just smiled and said, “God...or Fate.”
Al nodded, then glanced at his watch. Letting out a strangled sound, he pushed backwards in his chair and shot to his feet. “Damn! Maxine’s gonna kill me!”
Sam swallowed at that choice of words, and looked up at him. “Why?”
“I’m late. Again.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Things haven’t been exactly...great at home lately, Sam. I think she wants a divorce. And...to be honest? I don’t blame her. I haven’t exactly been the best husband. Of course, if the government does kick me out, there’ll be less money for the alimony.”
Sam got up and walked around to Al’s side. “Like I said – one step at a time. Let’s get you home, then we’ll start over fresh in the morning. Ok?”
With another sigh, Al agreed. “I’d swear you were my guardian angel, if I believed in that kinda stuff.”
Maxine heard the car pull into the driveway, and tensed. Any minute now, Al would be staggering up the walk, fumbling with his key at the lock, and stumbling through the door. She broke out in a nervous sweat and nearly dropped the gun. She’d never killed anyone before. Hell, she’d never even fired the gun. Al had told her how to, but she’d been scared to try it. But he’d ruined her life. She had to end that pain, had to make things right in the future by changing them here in the past. She never even gave thought to the fact that all those years of alimony payments would die with him. She was so bitter, had twisted the reality of their relationship so thoroughly and had bought into everything Zoe had told her that she was convinced this was the only way to resolve things.
Zoe had promised they were monitoring things back here, and would pull her out right after she shot him, leaving her past self to hysterically call the police and report killing him. That Maxine would be confused from being displaced in time, and in a panic from pulling the trigger but having no memory of doing so, and Zoe assured her that no judge would sentence her. It’d be self-defense, pure and simple.
Although he hadn’t had a drink in hours, and had had two cups of coffee, Al wasn’t quite sober, so Sam offered to drive him home. As he got out of the car, Al turned and leaned back in. “Mind coming in with me? I’m...a little worried she might try something.”
Sam grimaced, but nodded. “Sure. No problem.” He got out and joined Al on the walkway. “Nice place,” he remarked.
Al shrugged. “My luck she’ll get it in the divorce.” He searched his pockets for the key, then had a bit of trouble getting it in the lock in the dark. Finally getting the door open, he stepped into the house...and stopped dead in his tracks. “Maxine? What...”
The light had come on in the living room as soon as the door swung open, and Maxine stood there with the gun leveled. “Welcome home, darling,” she said contemptuously.
Al stood immobile, staring unbelievingly at the gun in his wife’s hands, his alcohol-fuzzed mind trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “Honey, what...what are you doing with that gun?” he finally managed.
“As if you don’t know,” she sneered.
“I really don’t,” Al admitted, shaking his head. He’d completely forgotten Sam’s presence – the shock of walking into his own home and finding a gun pointing at him blotted out all else.
“You have a choice, Al,” she said, stepping towards him. “Sign the divorce papers, or...” She shrugged a shoulder.
“You won’t get away with it, Maxine,” Al said, anger starting to creep into his voice. “You can’t just...shoot someone in cold blood.”
“I can if my life is in danger,” she replied. There was a hint of...hysteria in her voice, and the barrel began to waver.
“What? In danger? I would never...”
She smiled, but it was a sick, desperate smile. “Oh, but that’s not what the neighbors think. That’s not what the clerks down at the grocery store think. I’ve told them all about your anger issues, your drinking. ‘It’s just a matter of time,’ they all say. ‘One day he’ll snap.’ And tonight is that night, Al. Tonight you flew into a violent rage and came at me, and I was just barely able to get to the gun in time. Maybe it was the stress of the job, maybe you couldn’t deal with getting older. Whatever it was, the final straw was when I asked for a divorce.”
Al felt a cold knot form in the pit of his stomach, and was suddenly sober. “You’ve had this all planned. Why? My god, Maxine, what have I ever done to you?”
She laughed, a cold, frenzied sound. “Oh, isn’t that just like a man! Doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong! Oh, no, not a thing.” She was shaking now, losing control, and the gun was jittering more and more.
Before Al could even draw breath, Sam charged past him and grabbed Maxine’s gun hand. She screeched and clawed at his face with her free hand, but he pulled back out of her reach. They struggled with each other, but Maxine’s desperation was no match for Sam’s strength, and he started pushing her arm out and away.
Suddenly her eyes went wide and she stared at him. “Sam? Oh my god...”
Sam blinked and looked at her. “Alia?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “How...”
“To save Al,” she said.
“Me, too,” he answered, letting go of her wrist. “But...I thought...”
“Thought I was dead?” She smiled and shook her head. “It was a near thing, but no.” She looked over at Al. “You really do need to be more careful,” she told him. “I can’t keep saving your life.”
Al just stared at her, completely baffled.
“Where’s Maxine?” Sam asked.
Alia shrugged. “Gone. I...bumped her out. That was Maxine from your time, by the way.”
Sam frowned. “But...how...Zoe?”
“Yes. I don’t have a lot of time to explain – you’re gonna be leaving soon.”
“But what about you?”
She smiled. “I’m free, Sam. I’m finally free.”
He pulled her into a fierce hug. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I might drop by some time,” she said as he Leaped out...
Unknown location, October, 2004
“She’s...gone,” Thames said in disbelief.
“What do you mean...gone? Get her back!” Zoe demanded.
“I can’t get her back. She’s gone. One minute she was there, about to pull the trigger and then the next...just...poof.”
Zoe growled in frustration. “How is that even possible!? Lothos was monitoring the situation...” She trailed off as a chilling thought came to her. “Damn you, Sam Beckett!”
She looked around, but could see nothing in any direction. There was no shape, no color, just...a vast nothingness. She tried to run. But to her surprise she couldn’t move. Not a foot, not a finger, nothing. She tried to look down to see if she still had a body, but there was nothing to see.
“Oh...god. Where am I? What happened?” Her voice squeaked in fear.
“You screwed up,” a voice informed her from out of the ether.
“But...I didn’t! I did everything Zoe told me to! I confronted him...”
“That’s just one of many ways you screwed up,” the voice cut in sternly. “You have done a lot of very terrible things. But you have a chance now to atone for some of them. If you are willing.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll remain here.”
“But where is here?”
“Limbo.”
She swallowed hard at that proclamation. “Am...am I...dead?”
“Not technically. Nor are you quite alive.”
Very quietly, she said, “Oh boy.”
Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico, October 15, 2004
Sam woke up out of another nightmare and sat up in bed. He fought to calm himself down, but his heart was hammering so hard his whole body was shaking.
Donna stirred next to him and lifted her head. “What’s the matter, honey?” she asked sleepily.
He looked at her, feeling guilty for disturbing her sleep yet again. “ No-nothing,” he lied. “Bad dream. Go back to sleep.”
She frowned, but put her head back down on the pillow, and fell instantly asleep.
As had become routine now, Sam got out of bed, stepping into his slippers as he did so, went to the bathroom to wash the sweat from his face and drink a glass of water, then he grabbed his robe, slipped into it, and headed out to walk the cold hallways until his nerves settled enough that he could try getting back to sleep.
On impulse, he called out, “Ziggy?”
“Yes, Doctor Beckett?”
He let out a sigh of relief. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
The computer chuckled. “And yours as well, Doctor. Was there something in particular you needed?”
“Yeah. Any chance Al is awake?”
After a few moments, the computer responded, “Actually, yes he is. And...he’s on his way to see you.”
Sam frowned and was about to ask something when he spotted his friend, likewise clad in pajamas and robe, coming down the hall towards him. “Thanks, Zig. Sorry to wake you.”
“I’m incapable of sleeping, Doctor. Although I do on occasion go into a dormant state to conserve energy.”
Sam shook his head; Ziggy tended to take things a bit too literally sometimes.
When Al drew closer, he cracked, “We gotta stop meeting like this.”
To his surprise, Sam pulled him into a tight hug.
“Umm...Sammy? Love ya, but...I love air more. Not to mention whole ribs.”
Sam reluctantly let go and grinned lopsidedly. “Sorry. I just...”
“Another nightmare?” Al guessed.
“Yep. You?”
“Of course. Seems like that’s all I have these days.” Al gestured down the hallway. “Your place, or mine?”
“Depends on if you’re planning on getting plastered again,” Sam teased.
Al grimaced. “Uh-uh. Last time was no fun at all.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I thought we had a good time singing.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how did your head feel in the morning?”
Sam made a face. “Like it was stuffed with prickly cotton.”
Al chuckled. “So...your office, then?”
“Sounds good.” Sam turned, and they walked to his office together. It’d been a long time since he’d been in there, but it still felt comfortable to him. Indicating the couch, he pulled his chair around from behind the desk and sat.
“So. You wanna start?” he asked as Al sank onto the couch.
“Not so much. You?”
Sam shrugged. “You were dead, and I had to Leap back to when we first met to save you.”
Al frowned. “How come I keep dying?”
“That’s a very good question.”
“Well, I wish I’d stop.”
“You and me both, buddy.”
June 12, 1984
“Maxine...can’t we just...talk about this?” a very confused Al implored. “Shooting me isn’t the solution.”
Alia realized she was still holding the gun, and slowly set it down on the end table. She thought furiously, trying to figure out how to resolve this so she could go home, and not alter Sam’s future too terribly much. In the original history, Maxine hadn’t shot Al that night, but when Zoe manipulated the Maxine of the future into believing the only way to make things better was by going back into her own past and killing her husband, everything had been changed, and not for the best.
She didn’t want to hurt Al, but in order for things to go the way they were supposed to, he and Maxine needed to be divorced. Sam had saved Al by Leaping into himself so that they ended up meeting, even though in the reality he’d come from Al didn’t exist. And now Alia had to get things back on track without disrupting the timeline further. No simple task.
“I...I’m sorry, Al,” she said, moving towards him, and away from the gun. Understandably he stepped back, and Sam moved in front of him protectively. She shook her head and held her hands up slightly. “I...I lost my head a little.”
“Do you want me to call the cops?” Sam asked.
“That won’t be necessary, Sam,” she said, and then cringed; she wasn’t supposed to know his name.
He frowned at her. “Do we know each other?”
She almost laughed at that. If only he knew! Instead she shook her head. “No. I...I heard him ask you to come in...”
“I never used his name,” Al stated, scowling. “What’s going on here?”
Under her breath, Alia muttered, “Oh boy.”
Sam moved towards the phone on the other end table, and Alia said hurriedly, “I...no, I-I just remembered...I saw your picture! The magazine...you were on the cover of that magazine.”
Sam paused and looked at her. He obviously assumed that she’d gotten confused in the heat of the moment; it stood to reason that if Al was bringing him home he was someone he knew, and that damned cover did have his picture plastered across it. “Yeah, TIME. I can’t seem to get away from that blasted article.” He straightened and faced her. “Samuel Beckett. I just joined Star...the project your husband is working on.”
“Ex husband,” Al said emphatically.
Alia swallowed; there was so much anger in those words. She didn’t know the Al of the future – she’d never met him – but he was Sam’s best friend, and she knew and cared about Sam. “I have the papers right here.” She nodded to the end table that she’d set the gun on, but didn’t reach for them.
Sam went over and picked them up, then scanned them quickly. “They seem to be in order. You sure you want to go through with this, Al?”
“She pulled a gun on me in my own home, Sam. What do you think?” There was more than just anger in his voice now, there was also a world of hurt, and Alia died a little inside. She knew it wasn’t really her that was causing him such strong emotions, but to hurt him, even indirectly, pained her.
Sam handed the papers to Al, who leaned over the far end table, pulled a pen out of his pocket and signed them with a flourish. He handed them back to Sam, who in turn gave them to Alia. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, pack up and be gone in the morning,” he stated gruffly.
Alia sighed heavily, carefully moved the gun aside, under Sam’s watchful gaze, bent to sign the papers...and went home.
Sam’s office, October 15, 2004
“Doctor Beckett, if I might interrupt?”
“Yeah, Ziggy, what is it?”
“Just some interesting information I thought you might want to hear. Pertaining to the Admiral’s ex-wife.”
“Which one?” Al joked.
“Your fifth wife, Admiral. The one who killed you.”
“K...what?”
Sam looked over at Al, a very sick feeling growing in his stomach. “Ziggy...the Ad...Al is alive.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, Doctor, as I’m having a conversation with him at the moment. I was referring to the original history.”
Al massaged his forehead with one hand. “Ziggy...please start from the beginning. But don’t make it too long or complicated!”
The computer sounded insulted when she replied, “Very well. Since Doctor Fuller had inquired about the other project last month, I’ve been devoting some time to trying to find what information I could on it. At first I wasn’t having much luck – their records are even more carefully guarded than our own. However, I got to thinking about how another project could have been developed, much less conceived. And I came to the conclusion that someone else who knew Doctor Beckett’s string theory, which is, of course, the basis of this project, had to have been involved.”
“But...no one else does know that theory,” Al interjected. “I mean...Sammy told me about it back on Star Bright, and that’s why we...”
“Professor LoNigro,” Sam realized, with a sinking feeling. “Oh, my god.” He gave Al a stricken look. “We developed the damn thing together, Al.”
“Precisely, Doctor. I dug up what I could on Professor Sebastian LoNigro, and...he did develop a project, very similar to this one, beginning in 1984.”
“When we were on Star Bright,” Al said, shaking his head slowly. “But...he wasn’t evil. Was he, Sam?”
“The project was...corrupted,” Ziggy went on.
“By Zoe and Thames,” Sam assumed.
“Correct. And, Admiral, it turns out that you’ve been funding the project all along.”
“I...WHAT?!” Al roared, jumping to his feet. If Ziggy had been physically present he would have punched her.
“Well, not directly, Admiral. It would seem that your ex-wife, Maxine Reynolds, was involved with the other project; they were siphoning off small amounts of her alimony payments.”
Al was aghast. This was the last thing he’d expected to learn. “I...I didn’t even...know she knew them,” he finally managed, sinking back into the couch. “Honest to god, Sammy. I had no idea.” He shook his head, then chuckled bitterly. “That explains why she was always after me for more money.”
“You said that in the original history, Maxine killed Al?”
“Yes, Doctor. I was just getting to that. Zoe Barrows had...manipulated Maxine Reynolds into shooting her husband, claiming self-defense, and the insurance pay-out helped fund the project.”
“But when Al didn’t die, she...willingly gave up her alimony money to keep them running?” Sam guessed.
“Wait. I...I remember...” Al frowned, and shook his head in frustration. “We...that was the day we met, Sam. Remember? You drove me home, ‘cause I was too drunk to be behind the wheel, and we walked in and...Maxine pulled a gun on me...” Al was slumping further into the couch the more miserable he grew.
“So...why aren’t you dead?” Sam asked logically.
“Because you went back and saved him, Doctor.”
Sam stared up at the speakers in the ceiling in shock. The color slowly drained from his face. “No...I...that was...a nightmare...”
“Actually, it wasn’t. It was an alternate history, Doctor. Like the time you Leaped into the Admiral when he was a young pilot, and momentarily erased him from this timeline. The you of that reality had only just returned home, but you were having dreams of the Admiral and...”
“I told Donna I had to go back to save him, back to...the Star Bright project and meet him there...”
The two friends looked at each other, unable to find words; this was all far too much to take in all at once, and they’d both need time to process it.
“There’s more,” Ziggy informed them.
“It’s gonna have to wait until morning,” Sam said, getting up. “I can barely think straight as it is, and something this major...” He looked over at Al. “You ok?”
When Al looked up at Sam, it was with the most haunted expression Sam had ever seen on his friend’s handsome face. “I...I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “My world...doesn’t make a lot of sense right now.”
Sam went over and offered his hand to pull Al to his feet. “Yeah, I know. Let’s just...try to get some sleep, and we’ll work on this in the morning.”
“Sleep?” Al asked incredulously. “After what she just dumped on us?” He gestured vaguely towards the speakers, and snorted. “Not bloody likely.”
“Yeah, I know how you feel. But...just...try.”
“Too bad ‘Beena isn’t here to give me some sleeping pills,” Al lamented.
“Has anyone heard from her?” Sam asked.
“Actually, Doctor Beeks is here,” Ziggy informed them. “A bit...disoriented, but she’s here.”
“Disoriented? Why?”
“Discombobulated might be a better word for it,” a new voice interjected.
“Verbeena, you all right?” Sam asked with concern.
“Yeah. Not physically harmed. Just...it’s been a weird week.”
“Tell us about it,” Al muttered.
“How about I wait until morning?” Verbeena suggested. “And, Al, if you truly need a sleep aid...”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Don’t want to get hooked.”
“A wise decision. I’ll see you two around...say, ten o’clock, my office?”
“Sounds good, Verbeena. Glad you’re home safe.”
After Ziggy terminated the connection, Verbeena turned to her visitor. “You sure about this?
“They need to know the truth. All of it. I’ve...paid my dues, but I’m not done yet.” Alia sighed, and shook her head. “Sam saved my life, Verbeena. This is the least I can do.”
“Haven’t you done enough, though? You saved Al. Twice. You said you paid your dues. What more is there to do?”
“I want to do whatever I can to make sure that project is destroyed. Zoe and Thames must be stopped. Before they find someone else to take my place. And...I want to clear Professor LoNigro’s name. What happened to his project wasn’t his fault. He never intended it to be used for evil. If he’d lived to see what they had done...” She broke off and swallowed a lump that’d suddenly risen in her throat.
Verbeena put a hand on her shoulder in silent commiseration. After a while she offered, “You can sleep here tonight. I’ll bring you a spare pillow and a blanket.”
Alia started to protest, but as she had nowhere else to go, accepted. “A couch is hardly the worst thing I’ve ever slept on,” she said with a small smile.
Verbeena smiled back. “Good. And...after this is all over, if you still want help locating your birth parents...”
“I’d like that very much.”