Work Text:
Chapter Ten
“Ghosts”
“Pop him, Sam! Pop, pop, pop! Bring his guard down!”
Flurry of punches, the springy floor of the ring under his feet, sweat dripping off his face, and that voice, encouraging him to hit his opponent. Always that voice. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew who that slightly raspy voice belonged to. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to concentrate on knocking out the other man, or risk getting flattened himself.
He threw a punch, and the roar of the crowd turned into the excited shouts of a bar full of military personnel and Japanese girls of pleasure. He heard someone say something about “Ozzie Rabbit,” but his main concern was beating up the sergeant in front of him, the man who’d insulted him one too many times.
And again, that voice, shouting his name. “Kick him in the stomach, Sam! You gotta go downstairs!” He shook his head to clear it. He wanted very much to kill the man in front of him; there was so much anger built up inside, just looking for an outlet.
This time when his punch landed, the man he hit stumbled backwards and fell over the edge of a cliff, letting out a pitiful scream as he tumbled to his death. Weary, Sam sank down into the seat of the car behind him, and picked up the object next to him. It was the handlink, but all the lights were out. He poked a few buttons on it, then remembered that the device was dead. It had been left behind when...
“Have you looked in the mirror...You haven’t looked in the mirror yet, have you?” That voice again, chuckling this time. “Look in the mirror. Go on. Take a look.”
With a frown, he did as instructed. And blinked. The face looking back at him was...so familiar. He felt he should know who it was, but his mind just couldn’t seem to focus.
“Ain’t that a kick in the butt? You Leapt into me as a kid.” The voice was clearly amused.
And then he finally remembered the name that went with that voice.
“Why did you try to keep me and Sam apart?”
Al looked up from the book he’d been reading, to see Donna in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. “I...wait. What?” He frowned, wondering what she meant.
“When he was my English Lit. professor at Lawrence,” she explained, still not moving from the door. “Doctor Gerald Bryant.”
“Oh. Well...” he hedged. “Number one rule. He couldn’t affect anything in his own life. If he did, we’d get shut down.” He put the book down with an internal sigh.
“Was that the only reason?”
Al frowned again. “I-I’m not sure what...”
Still without moving, her face expressionless, Donna elaborated. “There wasn’t any other motivation?”
This time the sigh was audible. “Donna, I really don’t see...”
“Just answer the question, Albert,” she said firmly. “Was there any other reason you didn’t want Sam to reunite me with my father?”
“To be honest? Yes. At the time, I was still mad at you. You...the other version of you, really hurt Sam, standing him up at the altar like that. He was my best friend, and I didn’t want him getting hurt again.” He stood up, but didn’t move towards her. “Sam fell in love with you the first time he saw you, Donna. Fell hard. The moment he saw you on that campus, the only thought in his head was that he’d been given a second chance. He didn’t care what his actual mission was, didn’t care that we’d get shut down, or that Ziggy predicted you’d end up with the guy you ditched before Sam. He knew, somehow, that it’d all work out.” He took a deep breath, trying to quell the emotions that were building. “I got fired for helping him, Donna,” he added quietly.
She blinked. “You...what?”
“Weitzman fired my ass.” He shrugged. “I gave Sam the information he wasn’t supposed to have, and so the Oversight Committee did what they had to.”
“But...you...”
He shook his head. “He loved you, Donna. Still does.” He shrugged again. “He’s my best friend. I’d do it again if I had to.”
Donna thought about that for a while, not sure how to react. When she’d learned from Ziggy how Sam had changed her past, she’d been surprised. She had no idea that it had been Sam who’d driven her to see her father the night before he shipped out for Vietnam; all those years she’d wondered what had gotten into her professor that night, who exactly the “lost love” was he’d claimed he was trying to help. When she learned the truth, everything made sense – the string theory that “Doctor Bryant” had explained to her, why the two other students had gone with them (They were the reason Sam was actually there, and when they were left in the car while she & Sam snuck in to see her father, they’d reconciled their relationship), how he’d tracked down her father.
But she’d also learned that Al had done his best to keep Sam from pursuing that self-appointed goal, and she’d been angry. She hadn’t spoken to Al for over two days, not since before Sam’s latest episode, and part of the reason had been that anger. She knew how Al had begged Sam to change his own personal history, keep Beth from getting remarried and to wait for his release from Vietnam, and she’d thought it had been a rotten double standard – Al’s personal happiness was more important than Sam’s?
Everyone on the project knew the rules – that Sam could not change his own history, that he wasn’t to be told anything about his future, or “life back here,” to prevent him from trying to change things. He had changed things, inadvertently, which had been to their benefit. And, despite the “Number One Cardinal Rule,” he’d managed to change things for his family. So why was this one any different? Why was it against the rules to make sure they ended up married?
And then something Al had said to her finally sunk in. “The other guy.” She’d been engaged to someone before Sam, and had left him as well. So, somehow, Sam’s changing her history worked out in his favor, and he hadn’t actually changed his own history.
Al took a step closer to her, concerned by the look on her face. “Donna? Are you all right?”
She looked at him in confusion. “I...I think I need a drink,” she said.
He chuckled. “That’s the usual reaction when trying to comprehend the complexities of time travel,” he assured her. “I think I have some scotch left.”
“I....I should check on Sam.”
“Sleeping like a baby, last I looked. Whatever Verbeena gave him seems to have helped; I haven’t heard a peep out of him the last two days.”
“Oh. Well.” She seemed to be at a loss. “I guess...we should talk?”
Al smiled. “I’d like that.”
Before either of them had a chance to say anything, however, the patient in the next room woke up.
There was a low groan, and then a weak voice called “Al.”
Al and Donna hurried to Sam’s bedside. After his last episode, Verbeena had moved him to the infirmary so she could monitor him. Al had practically moved in with him, which gave Verbeena time to work with Sammy Jo and Ziggy to try to figure out what was happening to Sam’s mind, and hopefully find a way to reverse it.
“I’m right here, buddy,” Al assured. Sam’s eyes weren’t open yet, and Al wasn’t sure if he was actually awake or not.
Sam’s mouth was dry, and his voice slightly hoarse when he requested, “Water?”
Al quickly poured him a glass from the pitcher on the small table at the side of his bed, then helped Sam sit up so he could drink.
“Easy,” he coached. “Small sips so you don’t choke.”
Sam drank some water, then closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned back into the pillows. “Thanks, Uncle Jack.”
Al’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Wh-what did you call me?” he asked, his voice squeaking at the end.
Sam cracked an eye and looked at him. He frowned slightly, opened the other eye and lifted his head. “I...oops.”
“Yeah, oops,” Al agreed. “That’s not funny, Sam.”
“Sorry. Just...before I woke up I...I was...having this weird dream...” He cleared his throat a couple times before continuing. “I...it started in the boxing ring, when I was...Kid Cody. I threw a punch, and...I was decking Oswald’s sergeant. And then it was Clifford falling over the cliff, and...the last thing I remember was...looking in the mirror and seeing you. Bingo.”
“Uh-huh.” Al shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and was about to change the subject when Donna asked, “Who’s Uncle Jack?”
Al closed his eyes with a groan. “He...” He shook his head once. “When Sam was me...the younger version, I was...talking to Bingo in the Waiting Room and he mistook me for my uncle Jack.” He let out a sigh and opened his eyes, looking at the corner of the bed. “Honest mistake. I mean...I was older than the kid, heavier, so...”
“Donna?” Sam asked, surprise clear in his voice. “You...you didn’t leave.”
She smiled and moved closer to him. Taking his hand, she said, “No. I didn’t leave. I...needed time to think. And...” She looked over at Al. “We...have some things to talk about.” She looked back at her husband. “But right now the important thing is how you’re feeling.”
Sam frowned. “Muzzy. Very...muzzy. Stiff.”
“You’ve been asleep for the last two days,” Donna informed him. She brushed his hair back from his face and kissed his forehead. “Verbeena gave you some pretty strong drugs so you could sleep.”
“Must’ve been. I don’t remember a thing.” He turned to say something to Al, and blinked. “Where’d he go?”
Donna turned around – Al was gone. She stepped into the other room, but there was no sign of him, just his book where he’d left it on the seat of the chair. She frowned slightly, then went back in to Sam. “He probably went to tell Verbeena you’re awake.”
Sam smiled at her. “Have I ever told you how incredibly sexy you are?”
Arching an eyebrow, Donna questioned, “Is that you, or remnants of Bingo?”
Sam frowned and thought about it for a few moments. “Does it matter?”
“Actually, yes – I’d rather hear that from my husband than an over-sexed Navy pilot.”
Now Sam raised his eyebrows; there was a hint of bitterness in her words that he couldn’t figure out. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Donna sighed and shook her head. “I-I’m sorry, Sam. I...like I said, Al and I need to talk.”
He frowned again. “What’s wrong? What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing. I...” She pulled the chair over and sat down next to him, taking his hand again. “I guess I’m just...a little jealous.”
His eyebrows shot up at that admission. “Of Al!?”
She chuckled. “Not the way you think, Sam. It’s just...he was always with you. He was the only one with you. He knows...everything. Everything you did, every person you saved...”
“He was my Observer.”
“I know. But...it was so hard for me, Sam. I never asked Al...for more than just who and when you were. I-I didn’t want details. I-I couldn’t bear to think about you, somewhere back there, with some other woman.”
“Or man,” he put in, with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.
“I knew...deep down, I knew it wasn’t you, not really. You still loved me. You just had to...pretend, so you could do what you had to and move on.”
Sam bit his tongue – there actually were times he’d been in love with another woman during one of his Leaps. Al had always warned him when he started obsessing over someone, like Sammy Jo’s mother Abigail, but he couldn’t help himself; sometimes the attraction was just too strong. Admitting that now to Donna wouldn’t do any good – anything he’d done back there was in the literal past, and nothing could be done about it now.
Instead, he raised the hand she was holding and kissed the back of hers.
“Foolish old man,” Al chided himself as he walked down the hall.
There was no reason for him to be uncomfortable with the mention of his uncle, and he knew it. Jack had been quite a bit heavier than Al had ever been, and completely bald by the time he passed away. Al still had most of his hair, and was actually in better shape now than he had been when they started the project. What had unsettled him, he supposed, was the prospect of Sam becoming...trapped in one of the personalities he seemed to be channeling.
And since their minds had merged during the simo-Leap, and Sam had later Leapt into him, odds were that’s who Sam would...what? Turn into? Behave like? Whatever the outcome, Al really didn’t want it to happen. Talking to the 23-year-old version of himself in the Waiting Room had been one thing; having his best friend acting like him at that age...something entirely else.
Hopefully Verbeena, Sammy Jo and Ziggy were nearing a solution, and Sam could finally get some peace; having the nightmares and random memories from past lives intrude on his daily life was taking its toll. Al saw how stressed Sam was by the situation, and he felt miserable about not being able to do anything to help him. Sam sacrificed so much of himself to help others, without expecting anything in return. Al owed him more than he could ever repay in his lifetime.
“Ziggy, is Verbeena still with you?” he asked.
“I’m here, Al. Any change?”
“Yeah, actually. He’s awake. Donna’s with him right now.”
“How’s he feeling?”
“Rather out of it. He was having a strange dream before he woke up, bits and pieces of some of his past Leaps.” Al rang for the elevator; he didn’t have an actual destination in mind, he just felt restless and sort of trapped. Fresh air and a walk seemed like a good idea.
“Did he mention who?” Sammy Jo asked.
“Yeah. Started with that boxer, Kid Cody, then he was Oswald, then I guess right after he went back to 1945, and...” Al cleared his throat. “Last one before he woke up was Bingo.” The elevator arrived and he stepped in, silently cursing the fact that the closing doors didn’t mean an end to the conversation; Ziggy’s speakers were all over the complex. He’d complained to Sam at one point that it gave her “an aura of being God,” to which Sam had only chuckled.
“Was there any commonality?” Ziggy queried.
“Huh?”
“Aside from yourself in the last two Leaps, was there anything in common with those four personas?”
Al frowned as he thought about it. “I don’t...no, wait. Sam said...each time the...scene shifted or whatever, he was punching someone else.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you suppose that might be something? Violence?”
“Perhaps. I’ll talk to him in a while, Al,” Verbeena answered. “It’ll be interesting to see what in particular was happening in each of those instances. Was his life in danger? Was someone else’s? Maybe if we can find that common thread, we can determine what part of his brain is...storing these personalities, and perhaps how to...block them.”
“I’d like it better if you could just...purge them, ‘Beena,” Al said. “I just...I don’t like the idea of being in the middle of a conversation with Sam and all of a sudden I’m talking to Oswald, or Dr. Ruth or someone.”
“We’ll do our best, Al,” Sammy Jo promised.
“I know, kiddo. I have complete faith in you three.” He sighed again as the elevator slid to a stop. “Just wish there was something I could do. I feel so...useless.”
“Best thing you can do is be there for him, Al,” Verbeena told him. “You were the one constant in his life for those ten years. I think that’s going to help him now.”
Al took one step out of the elevator, then snapped his fingers. “I think you just hit the nail on the head!” he exclaimed.
“Pardon me?”
“I think that’s it. Or...part of it. Me.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“I was always there. I talked Sam out of his meld with Oswald, I gave him pointers during his fight with Tiger Joe. I was his...lifeline.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Thank you, Admiral,” Ziggy said, going all formal again as she invested herself in the new theory.
“Glad to be of help,” Al said, leaving the elevator. Under his breath he added, “Whatever help that was.”
With no particular destination in mind, he just started to wander outside, mulling things over. One thing that was foremost in his thoughts was how much they’d all changed in the last decade. That was to be expected, of course, but every once in a while Al was struck by those changes, some not as subtle as others.
Wardrobes, for instance. He’d always favored bright colors and metallic shades, feeling that they suited his personality better. He was hardly one to try, or even want, to “blend in,” and bold colors and patterns appealed to him. Now, however, his wardrobe was trending more to khakis or neutral-colored slacks, and simple, solid-colored shirts. Tina, likewise, had moved away from flashing accessories, short dresses and high heels, preferring jeans and loose blouses. Comfort was more important to them both now.
His meandering took him to an old picnic table, leftover from simpler times when they used to have “company” picnics once a month, as a way to break away from the monotony of the project and just relax, socialize a little. With a weary sigh, Al took a seat, putting his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
Thinking about Tina brought him to relationships, and he began to worry. About his marriage, and Sam’s. But also about his relationship with Donna. There was still friction between them, and that bothered him. He was afraid there was something he’d done to upset her, or that she felt he was the reason Sam didn’t want to leave.
He thought back to what they’d been talking about just before Sam woke up, about Al losing his job because he’d told Sam who her father was and how to find him. Senator Weitzman, head of the Oversight Committee, had fired him for breaking the rule about not giving Sam information he could use to change their own time, even though surely Sam’s marital status was a small matter in comparison to preventing the U2 incident, which the Committee had later tried to get Al to convince Sam to do.
With a groan, Al started massaging his temples. Donna was right – trying to understand all the implications of changes Sam made here by changing things back there was enough to induce a massive headache. And Al really didn’t need another of those. What was done was done, and now could never be changed again; the other project was destroyed, their own Accelerator was on lockdown. As far as any of them knew, there was no way for Sam, or anyone else, to go back into the past again. At least, he hoped that was the case.
An arm slipped around his neck from behind, and he very nearly grabbed it and flipped the person over his back before he caught a subtle scent, and realized who was hugging him.
“Dammit, Cat,” he exclaimed, wincing as his heart thudded hard. “You very nearly gave me a heart attack, and ended up with a broken back.”
“Sorry,” she apologized, leaning over to kiss his cheek, then sitting across from him. “You just looked like you needed a hug.”
Al gave her a fleeting grin. “Yeah, among other things.” He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “So, what brings you out here in the middle of the day?”
“Deep thoughts,” she replied.
“Mm. I know all about those.”
“I could tell. Wanna talk about ‘em?”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Oh, where would I even start?”
“Beginnings are always good. Or whatever it was you were just thinking when I got here.”
He chuckled. “Not quite that simple, I’m afraid.”
“Ok. Well...tell me about our family.”
“Our family?”
“Yeah. What were your parents like, did you have any siblings?” Her face grew serious. “What’s going to happen to Mom?”
Hearing the pain in her voice, Al reached over and took one of her hands in both of his. “I don’t know, honey,” he said honestly. “I went to see her when you were...missing.” He cleared his throat, surprised that he was getting choked up. “She was unresponsive.”
Cat swallowed back a sob. “Is...am I horrible if I say I don’t want her to recover?”
Al sat back and thought about the question. On the one hand, Maxine was her mother, no matter how terrible she’d been. But, on the other hand, exactly that – Maxine had been a terrible mother. The abuse aside, she’d tried to poison Caitlin against her father, had gone after Al financially, and gotten tangled in Zoe’s web.
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you, sweetie. My gut instinct would be to say ‘no,’ but...” He let go of her hand, and rubbed the side of his face. “That’s not fair to you. Or to Maxine.” Before Cat could protest, he held his hand up. “She couldn’t have been a completely rotten mother, or you wouldn’t have turned out as terrific as you did.”
“Thank Michael for that. He raised me more than Mom did.” She shook her head. “At least he stayed sober.”
Al winced, even though she’d been referring to Maxine. “I’m sorry, Cat,” he started.
“Hey, it’s ok. I’m ok. Sure, it wasn’t the ideal childhood, but...” She shrugged. “Who has one of those?”
He chuckled. “I sure didn’t. Raised in an orphanage.”
“You never knew your parents?”
“Oh, I knew them. But not for long. Your grandfather was from Italy, your grandmother was Russian. She ran off with an encyclopedia salesman; my father got a job working the oil rigs in the Middle East, and couldn’t take care of me and my sister, Trudy. I was sent to the orphanage and Trudy...” He trailed off, his throat tight with emotion. Even all these years later, it still hurt to think about his little sister. He cleared his throat a couple times, and continued. “She...was institutionalized. She had Down’s syndrome, and...” He sighed and shook his head. “Times were different. My father came back when he’d made enough money, bought us a little house so we could be a family again, but...he got sick. Cancer. And...he died. I ended up back in the orphanage.” Al was looking down at the tabletop, unable to meet Cat’s eyes as he told her about his painful childhood. “I...tried to get Trudy out when I was 19, but...” His voice cracked. “She was dead. Pneumonia.”
Cat reached over and took his hand quietly. Father and daughter, two wounded souls. Hopefully together they could begin to heal.
He looked up at her concerned face, and managed a weak smile. “Last of the Calavicci line,” he said sadly.
“You’ve still got me. I might not be Calavicci in name, but I am by blood. And I’m proud to call you my father.”
Al smiled at her. “Thanks, honey. That means a lot.” He sighed. “Now, if we could just figure out what’s wrong with Sammy, and fix it.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Cat said.
“Yeah, I know. Ziggy told me your theory, about why he ended up Leaping into me.”
“It just...kinda made sense. I’ve been living with you guys for months now, and I still don’t get all the...ins and outs of this leaping around in time stuff, but...” She shrugged a shoulder. “It seems to me that every time Sam Leapt somewhere, little bits of the people he was replacing had to stay behind, right? I mean, otherwise he’d be bumbling around all the time, not knowing how to get to work, or where the grocery store was, stuff like that. So...sometimes, for whatever reason, there was a stronger link. Like with Doctor Ruth. Or with you.”
Al nodded. “That makes perfect sense. We never really wondered about that, just...took it for granted, I guess.”
“Well, the way I figure, since you guys were already synced up through brainwaves, the link between you was stronger than any other one. Which is why Sammy Jo was finally able to get a lock on him to get him home – there was a bit of you still back there with him, and a bit of him still here with you.”
Al arched an eyebrow as he thought about that. “That would explain why he knew he had to go back to save my life in the timeline where I didn’t exist.”
Cat nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Because you were still a part of him here, even though you weren’t now.”
He groaned and rubbed his temples again. “This conversation is giving me a migraine.”
Cat grinned slightly. “Sorry, Dad. I actually find it kind of fascinating.”
“How much of this have you talked about with Sammy Jo and Ziggy?”
“Well, I told Sammy Jo my theory, and I know she ran it by Ziggy. They’re probably using it as a basis for whatever hypotheses they’re coming up with to cure him.”
“I hope so. The sooner they can figure out exactly what’s wrong, the sooner they can work out how to fix it. And hopefully they can do that before he...channels me again.” He made a face. “One of me is more than plenty.”
Cat had a devilish grin when she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I think a younger version of you would be a lot of fun. Bet you were a total hottie back then.”
Al actually blushed. “Well, I wasn’t bad-looking,” he admitted. Then he got completely weirded out by the thought of his daughter finding him attractive, and started stammering. “Not that...you wouldn’t...I mean...”
“Easy, Dad! I wouldn’t hit on you!” she assured him with a chuckle. “Or him.” She frowned slightly. “How’d you guys keep it straight who you were talking about when Sam was you?”
Still a little unsettled, this time by the thought that his younger self would most likely hit on Cat, he said, “Oh, we just used my nickname from back then. Bingo.”
She chuckled as she said, “I bet that’s an interesting story.”
“Yeah...I don’t think I’m old enough for you to hear that one,” Al replied.
“Well, I still think Ziggy’s theory is our best bet,” Verbeena said with a weary sigh. She twisted in her chair until her back cracked, and sighed again.
“Looks that way,” Sammy Jo agreed. “I certainly can’t come up with a better one. Of course, the problem’s going to be getting Donna to go along with it. You know how adamant she is about Dad getting anywhere near the Accelerator.”
“I might have a solution to that,” Ziggy hazarded. “We might not have to actually send Doctor Beckett anywhere; if we can isolate the neurons that don’t belong to him, we should be able to simply...Leap those back to who they belong to, without him actually leaving our time. He’d have to be in the Chamber itself, but I think I can rewrite the program to prevent him from physically leaving here.”
“That’d be great, Ziggy,” Sammy Jo said. “I for one don’t want to lose him again.”
“Nor I,” the computer stated.
“If we could do a sort of...trial run to test things, that’d be best,” Verbeena put in. “We don’t know if there’s been any kind of...mental damage done, or even if we might lose bits of Sam’s mind when we try to...dislodge the other personas.”
“I think we should start with someone he doesn’t have a very strong attachment to,” Sammy Jo suggested. “Perhaps Doctor Ruth? That way we’ll know if it’s going to work; I think anyone he’s got a stronger link with will be harder to...shake.”
“Sound reasoning, Doctor,” Ziggy praised.
“Which...brings up a rather serious question,” Verbeena realized. “Who does he have the strongest links to?”
Sammy Jo thought about it for a few moments, and then groaned. “Oh....boy. The most obvious one, no doubt the strongest...is Al.”
“Oh dear.” Verbeena gnawed on her lower lip with worry as she considered those implications.
“Any questions?” Sammy Jo asked. She, Verbeena and Ziggy had spent several hours working out the details, and she’d just presented their plan to her father, Donna, Cat, Al and Tina.
“How will you know which neurons need to be removed?” Tina asked.
“I actually have brain scans of all the Visitors on file,” Ziggy stated. “We decided it would be a good idea to monitor their mental, as well as physical, health while they were with us. I can simply compare those scans with Doctor Beckett’s most recent one.”
“Is there any chance of...brain damage?” Al questioned. “For Sam or...the other people?”
“The risk is minimal,” Verbeena assured him. “These extra neurons are...piggy-backing, in a sense; as far as we’ve been able to determine there’s been no damage to Sam’s actual brain, just momentary...blackouts, so to speak, when one of those ‘riders’ takes control.” She grimaced; that wasn’t exactly the most accurate way to describe what was happening, just the easiest.
“And what about the other people?” Al pressed. “If Sam’s got extras, then...aren’t they missing them? Wouldn’t they have...gaps in their memories or something?”
“Possibly,” Sammy Jo admitted. “A minor version of Dad’s ‘Swiss-cheese memory’, but once we return the missing neurons they should be fine.”
Her answer seemed to mollify him somewhat; he nodded and let out a small sigh of relief.
Donna asked the most important question. “How will we know if it works?”
“Madre de Dios,” a heavily accented voice complained. “It was no supposed to be like this.”
Sam whirled around; he recognized that voice, but she was the last person he expected to see. “Angela?” he asked in disbelief, staring at the heavy-set Puerto Rican woman who had appeared out of nowhere.
She smiled sadly at him. “Hello Sam.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked, stepping closer to her. She still looked the same as the last time he’d seen her, which had been in 1958. She’d been a singer in the 1920s, until she’d fallen from the stage during a performance and died. When he’d met her she claimed to be his guardian angel, there to help him on his mission. However, she’d told him he wouldn’t remember her after she left. “You...you told me...”
“I know,” she cut in. “You not remember me then, but you know me now.” Then she let out a little gasp. “What is he doing here?” she demanded, pointing her folded-up fan at Al. “Why you hanging around that devil?”
Sam shook his head. “Angela, don’t start,” he warned. “I told you before that Al was not the devil.”
“How you know?” She moved closer to Sam, eyeing Al carefully. “Didn’t he fool you once?”
Sam frowned. “How...how do you know...”
“Didn’t I say I was your guardian angel?” She shook her head. “Ai. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Sam.”
“What...what wasn’t supposed to happen how?” Sam was getting more and more perplexed by the conversation, and rubbed his forehead as he felt a headache starting.
“You. This.” She gestured at the gathered group with her fan.
“Do...do you mean...I’m not supposed to be home?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I won’t believe that. I’m home and...and...”
“Are you? Are you really home, Sam?”
“What? That’s ridiculous! Of course I’m home! Sammy Jo worked out how to fix the retrieval program, and I’ve been home for...months now.” But suddenly Sam wasn’t so sure. Could this all actually be part of some weird dream? Was he caught in a hallucination? But...that couldn’t be true. Everything that happened, the vacation, Alia, the other project...that all really happened. It had to have happened.
He looked at Al, who hadn’t reacted at all to Angela’s appearance, or her accusations. He looked at Donna, at Sammy Jo...no one was reacting at all. In fact, they looked as if they were...frozen. He walked over to them, one by one, and tried to get their attention – he waved his hand in front of faces, poked or prodded them, but no one moved or even blinked.
“Wh-what’s going on?” he asked, fear starting to creep into his words. “What happened?”
“I stopped time,” Angela said simply. “We needed to talk without anyone overhearing us.” She looked pointedly at Al, clearly not trusting him. “Or trying to stop us.”
“But...why...I don’t understand.”
Angela sighed. “Something...happened to you when you were back there.”
“To my mind. Yes. I know. We were just talking about how to fix it.” Exasperation rang clear in his voice now. “Ziggy has a theory...”
“It no work,” Angela denied, shaking her head. “How you take little bits out of your mind without hurting your mind?”
Sam grinned slightly. “Do you really have time for a lengthy scientific explanation? It involves mapping neurons and quantum acceleration...”
“Is dangerous,” she cut in. “What if you get stuck back there again?”
“I won’t,” he stated with assurance. “Sammy Jo reprogrammed the Accelerator so that my body will remain here.”
“So...only your brain will go.” She raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her words. “That’s much better, no?”
He shook his head. “No, not my brain. Only those bits that don’t belong to me, that...merged with my mind during the Leaps, for whatever reasons.”
She sighed again and shook her head. “If you think it safe, I can no stop you. Besides, I have other worms to fry.”
He laughed. “Fish. It’s ‘other fish to fry.’ You open a can of worms...” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. Will you at least...un-freeze my friends before you go?”
“Fine. But I do not trust that one.” Again she thrust her fan in Al’s direction. “You be careful of him.”
“Angela, Al is my best friend in life. My best friend. We would die for each other.” He tilted his head with a slight smile. “In fact, he already did.”
Now she frowned. “What you mean?”
“Al died getting me back home.”
“But...he is here. No?”
“Yes, he’s here. Because...” Sam sighed and shook his head again. “Never mind. I trust Al. With my life. I know you two didn’t exactly...hit it off last time, but...believe me – Al would never do anything to hurt me.”
Angela sighed heavily. “All right. I trust you. Now, I have to go. There is a soul in...how you say...el peligro...”
It took Sam a moment to translate the Spanish. “Danger? There’s a soul in danger?”
“Si. Danger.”
“Who?” And then he blinked – Angela was gone.
“Who...what, Sam?” Donna asked, putting a hand on his arm.
He frowned as he looked around the room. “I...she was...just here...” He trailed off in confusion.
“Who was?”
“Angela. She...”
“Not that crazy flapper who claimed she was your guardian angel!” Al exclaimed. “Sam...”
“Al, she...she was here. I saw her.”
“Then how come none of us did?”
“She...stopped time.”
“Honey, maybe we should get you back to bed,” Donna said worriedly. “We’ll work all this out, and you can get some rest.”
Sam leered at her. “It’s not rest I have in mind,” he said, pulling her to him.
“Sam! Stop it! You’re not me, so cut it out!” Al complained.
Verbeena cleared her throat. “Ah...I think Donna’s suggestion is sound. It’s late, and we should all get some sleep. We’ll discuss our plans further tomorrow.”
Sam frowned. “What’s to discuss? I thought you had it all worked out.”
“Well, for one thing, we need to determine just who you...melded with. How many people, I mean. And which of those are weaker connections; those would be the ones we’d try to...reverse first.”
“You have memories from several of your Leaps,” Sammy Jo put in. “But there were only certain ones that seem to be affecting you more.”
“Like Al,” Donna said, although this time it was more sadness than bitterness in her words.
“About that,” Al interjected. “I want to be first.”
“Pardon?” Verbeena asked.
“I want you to...sever the ties, or whatever, between us first,” he elaborated. He looked over at Tina, and sighed. “I’ve...well, been having trouble remembering things, and...I think...maybe it’s because of this...meld between Sam and me. You all keep saying the...connection between us is strongest, so...”
“We were actually hoping to start with one of the weaker ones,” Verbeena told him. “Sort of a...trial run, make sure everything will work the way we hope it will. We’ve spent hours going over everything, but...there’s a very, very small chance that it won’t work at all, and an even smaller chance that...well...”
“It might end up pulling more neurons from the Visitor, rather than returning them,” Sammy Jo finished.
Al flinched. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. And then he looked at Sam, and immediately felt guilty for worrying about his own mind. “It’ll work, Sammy,” he assured his friend. “These kids? Super-geniuses. They’ll work it out, and you’ll be right as rain.”
“And how are you, Al?” Sam asked, with what sounded like a German accent.
Al blinked, and then groaned when he recognized the voice. “Ah, man. Sam, you’re channeling Dr. Ruth! Snap out of it!”
With a sigh, Verbeena went over to Sam and gave him an injection in the arm. “You’ve got about ten minutes to get him back to bed, Donna,” she said. “I’d of course prefer it if he returned to the infirmary...”
Donna nodded, slipped an arm around Sam’s waist, and started to steer him towards the door. She paused and glanced back at Al, who understood the look and nodded. “Later,” he said.
Verbeena moved to help Donna, and Cat quietly asked Sammy Jo if they could go talk. If Sam had really been channeling Al earlier, she’d just gotten a glimpse of what her father was like when he was younger, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Once they were out in the hall, though, and she saw how worried Sammy Jo was, she forgot about her own discomfort. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Sammy Jo nodded as she headed for her office. “Yeah, it is. We’re going to have do this tomorrow, which means I have to burn the midnight oil. Sorry, kiddo, but I’m not gonna be able to talk.”
“Hey, it’s no big. You gotta do what you have to to help your father.” She tried for a smile and a joke. “My own daddy issues will have to wait.”
Sammy Jo came to an abrupt stop and turned to frown at her friend. “What do you mean?”
Cat shrugged. “Nothing, really,” she hedged, shoving her hands into her back pants pockets. “Just...earlier I’d asked Dad about his side of the family, and...well...” She glanced back down the hall, but Al and Tina hadn’t left Verbeena’s office yet. “What do you know about Bingo?” she asked, turning back to her friend.
“Um. Well, not much, really. Dad Leapt into him in June of ’57, when he was on trial for killing a commander’s wife. He didn’t. He wasn’t even with her that night.” She opened her office door and gestured for Cat to precede her. Once her friend had settled into a chair, Sammy Jo sat down behind her desk and resumed her story. “She had a...fling with just about every young man on the base, but only one time. That was her rule. But she never had one with Bingo – he was already involved with Lisa Sherman at that point.”
“Alia’s mother,” Cat said.
Sammy Jo nodded. “Marci, that’s Commander Riker’s wife, wasn’t too happy about that. She kept after him, but Bingo kept turning her down. One night, after she’d gotten into a fight with her husband, and he’d smacked her around a bit, she saw Bingo’s car by the O Club, and thought he’d finally changed his mind. She hurried over, but it was Bingo’s best friend Chip. He talked Marci into getting into the car, and she asked him to take her ‘somewhere she could run naked’. He took her to the beach, thinking he was going to be the first to have a second chance at her. She teased him, then turned and ran. He reached out to grab her, but she tripped and hit her head on a rock, dying instantly.”
“Wow.” Cat sat quietly for a while, then asked, “So, what happened with the trial?”
“Well, Commander Riker testified that he saw Bingo rape and murder his wife; he was watching from the cliff, but didn’t do anything to stop it, because ‘she deserved it.’ His own words.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. After he testified, Dad and Al were talking outside, and the odds that Bingo would be executed in the gas chamber continued to rise, until...he was replaced. By a rather stodgy Englishman by the name of Edward St. John, V. Everything back here was different – Tina and Gooshie were married, Ziggy was a male known as Alpha.” Sammy Jo raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “But St. John told Dad that the evidence he needed to prove his innocence was in the car. Dad searched it, and found a cigar stub.”
“One of Dad’s?”
Sammy Jo grinned and shook her head. “Nope. Al didn’t start smoking until after Vietnam. It was Chip’s. Dad confronted him, and he spilled the whole story.”
“Huh.” Cat leaned back in the chair and thought about that. She almost asked Sammy Jo if she knew the source of her father’s nickname, but decided to let it go; if he’d wanted her to know, he would’ve told her himself.
Almost as if she were reading Cat’s mind, Sammy Jo asked, “So, why do you want to know about Bingo?”
“Ahh...well, Dad seemed a bit...freaked about Sam...channeling him or turning into him or whatever, and...I just...” She shrugged.
Sammy Jo smiled briefly. “To be perfectly honest with you, and don’t ever tell him I said this, or he’d never forgive me, but...I think a lot of Al’s stories of conquests are just that – stories. Oh, I’m sure he’s had...encounters of an...extramarital nature, but... Well, to be blunt, you wouldn’t be an only child.”
Cat blinked rapidly a few times. “Good lord. I...I never...oh...my.” She was actually shocked into silence; she’d never even given thought to whether there were children from any of her father’s other marriages. “I...” she tried again.
“Relax,” Sammy Jo urged. “Ziggy’s 89.99% certain you’re his only child.”
Cat frowned. “You sound like you’ve talked about this with her before.”
“I did, actually. Shortly after you came to stay with us. I was...curious. But we both agreed that your father wouldn’t be the careless type.”
There was a certain amount of bitterness to her words when Cat said “Apparently he was at least once.”
Sammy Jo stared at her in shock. “Cat...what...” She shook her head. “You weren’t an accident, honey.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No, but I can assume a few things. One – while Al often said he’d never have kids, it wasn’t because he didn’t like them. He was more concerned that they have a happy childhood; being in the Navy meant moving from base to base, and that’d be hard on kids. He would’ve bent over backwards to give any child of his a better time growing up than he had. He would’ve done anything for you, Cat, if he’d known about you. Which brings me to the other point – your mother was a manipulative bitch.”
Cat winced, then nodded. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. And...” She scowled. “That’s totally something she would do, keep the pregnancy from him, and then use it to emotionally blackmail him.”
“I’m betting that was part of her plan the night she tried to kill him.”
“She better never come out of that coma,” Cat threatened, “or I’ll put her right back in it.”
After the girls had left, Al waylaid Tina by taking her arm. “Tina, we need to talk.”
Concerned by his tone of voice, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I am,” he said simply.
She frowned. “I don’t...”
“I’m sorry, Tina. I treated you like crap.”
The frown didn’t leave. “When?”
“Pretty much always.”
“Al, honey...”
He held up a hand. “No. I need to say this. Need to apologize for what I did to you. The...things I made you do.” He cleared his throat and dabbed at an eye. “I treated you horribly, Tina. I realize that now. Hell, I realized it then, but just wouldn’t admit it to myself. I...never meant for you to feel like you were just...another notch, another conquest for me to brag about. I-I loved you the first time I saw you, but...I was scared to death.”
“Of what?” Tina asked, completely confused.
“Of you. Of us. Of love.” Al shook his head. “The more time I spent with you, the more in love I fell. I hadn’t felt that way since...Beth.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat again. “And...I was...petrified of being hurt like that again. It wasn’t fair to you, but I was so messed up...” His throat closed around a sob, and he bit down on his lower lip, trying to control his emotions so he could go on.
“Oh, Al,” Tina sobbed, enveloping him in a hug. “Baby, don’t do this to yourself. Please. It’s ok.”
“Like hell it is,” he muttered against her shoulder.
“Al.” She pulled back to look at him, wiping away her own tears before drying his. “Please don’t. Just...listen to what I have to say, ok?” When he nodded, she managed a small smile. “I love you. Know that first. I have always and will always love you. I know...things weren’t always good for you. You’ve been through...so much, baby, and...what hurts me more than knowing that is the fact that I wasn’t there for you when you really needed someone. I’ve tried to make up for that, tried to be there for you, whatever you needed.” She looked him in the eyes and asked, “Do you honestly think, if I didn’t love you, that I would’ve done any of those things?”
“No, but...”
“Shh.” She kissed him, then added, “If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me.”
That surprised him, and he frowned in confusion. “For...what?”
“Cheating on you. With Gooshie of all people.” She shrugged. “I was...being petty. Guess I was a little jealous; so many of the women who worked here were all over you all the time, and...I’d look at some of them and think ‘What could he possibly see in me?’ And then you’d go off with one of them, and...”
Al swallowed hard and tried to apologize again, but Tina put a finger against his lips. “But none of them ever lasted. One and done.” She managed another small smile. “You always came back to me.”
“That’s not a good thing,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Why not? If you didn’t really love me, I would’ve been just another notch. You weren’t really interested in any of them. It was just...I don’t know...some kind of...validation, I think. Kind of a way to prove you ‘still had it’.” She grinned at him, the kind of grin that promised of things best left unsaid once they got home. “Believe me, you never lost it.”
Al chuckled involuntarily at that comment. “Baby, you’re the greatest.”
“And don’t you forget it, mister.” She kissed him again, longer and deeper, then suggested, “Why don’t we continue this conversation in the privacy of our own home?”
“Not sure I can stay awake much longer,” he said, stretching and yawning.
“Hmm. I’ll have to come up with some inventive way to keep you awake, then,” she said, the twinkle in her eye giving a pretty good indication of what she was thinking.
Sam fought the effects of the drug Verbeena had given him; he needed to talk to Donna, to tell her what Angela had said to him. Because he was afraid she might have been right – that he wasn’t really home, that everything he thought had happened over the last several months was just an elaborate dream and that he’d wake up to find himself trapped somewhere in the past, but with no way to get home.
“Donna, I...we need to talk,” he said as she tried to get him into the bed in the infirmary.
“And we will, sweetie,” she promised. “But you need rest now.”
“No! I-I can’t. I...what Angela said...need to...talk about that.”
Donna frowned. “Honey, there was no one else in Verbeena’s office. It was just another one of your flashes.”
“But it wasn’t,” he said vehemently. “It wasn’t. It was...real. She was real. She was really here and...” He shook his head, frustrated as he felt sleep trying to overtake him. He sank onto the bed as he felt his body giving in. “She...she asked me...if I was really home.”
The fear in his voice made Donna look at him sharply. “Of course you’re home, Sam. You’re just...” She sighed, and fought down the growing panic; she was afraid he was literally losing his mind, and the prospect chilled her heart. “You’re tired, Sam.”
“I’m not,” he disagreed, pounding a fist on his thigh as he fought to stay focused. “I’m not tired. She said things...didn’t go the way they were supposed to, and...and that there was a soul in danger.”
“A soul in danger? What’s that supposed to mean? Whose soul?”
“I-I don’t know. Sh-she just...left.”
Donna lifted his legs and got him into bed; he offered only weak resistance and his eyelids fluttered. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, honey. I’ll be right here the whole night. Ok?” She kissed his forehead as his eyes finally closed. With a sigh she dropped into the chair next to his bed. It was a perfectly comfortable chair...for sitting. Not for sleeping in. But she’d suffer through it if it meant being nearby if Sam had another nightmare.
“Bits...” he muttered as he drifted off. “Pieces...left behind...merged...”
Donna swallowed the hard lump of emotion and wiped away a tear.
The light in the hallway was bright, too bright. It hurt his eyes, but he kept moving forward. Something was...compelling him. He had to find out what was on the opposite side of the door. Everything was so large. There were words printed on the door, a big word he didn’t know, and the word “lab.” He reached out to the doorknob, afraid of what he’d find, but compelled to open it.
It swung open, and there was a large man, dressed in blood-stained white, shouting at him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, the man was telling him, he needed to leave. But he couldn’t. He saw her. Saw her lying on the table, all covered in blood. His mother...
He was telling someone this. They were memories, but they weren’t his memories. They were someone else’s, but they were in his head. And he was telling someone...a man in a suit. There was a knife in the man’s gloved hand, and he was telling him to take the gun, take the gun and put it against his head. It was the only way to ease the pain. Gun to his head, pull the trigger, no more pain.
And that voice. That voice from before, shouting his name, telling him he was...hypnotized, that he was experiencing someone else’s memories of being a little boy and finding...finding his mother...on an autopsy table. The gun was at his temple, but he didn’t pull the trigger. That voice, the one that he trusted, got through to him and...he lowered the gun. The other man lunged at him with the knife and...he pulled the trigger.
Al was absolutely exhausted by the time he finally fell asleep, but it was a sweet exhaustion. He and Tina had finished the talk about their relationship, which had been rather rocky in the beginning, and then she took his mind completely off everything. For quite some time.
Unfortunately as he crossed into the world of sleep, one tiny little corner of his mind perked up, and it transported him into a truly bizarre dream.
He was walking down a brightly lit hall, so bright it hurt his eyes. At the far end was a doorway, that he felt drawn to. He was scared, but he had to keep going. The door loomed in front of him, with a long, complicated word printed on it, followed by the simpler word “lab.” He reached for the doorknob, afraid of what he’d find on the other side, but driven to open it anyway.
The door swung open...
Sam whimpered in his sleep, but calmed when Donna, half asleep, reached out and took his hand. “I’m right here, honey,” she murmured, holding his hand until she drifted off to sleep again.
Gunfire exploded all around him, and he reflexively ducked, crouching in the middle of a cold stream. Everywhere around him men were screaming and dying, horses were neighing in fright and pain, and still the bullets flew.
He stumbled towards shore and clambered out. Cannons boomed, and then a dying man called out to him. He crawled to the man’s side, realizing instantly that there was nothing he could do for him. Except take the letter the dying man was giving him, and promising to deliver it.
He raised his head....and he was in the middle of a cold stream as bullets flew around him. He was surrounded by men firing machineguns, all of them yelling as they strafed the tall grass along the shores of the stream, cutting down the enemy. Startled, he ducked underwater, only raising his head when the guns at last fell silent. A dead body drifted towards him, and one of the soldiers reached down to lift it high enough to make sure it was a corpse.
“Damn, Magic,” the soldier said, turning towards him. “How’d you know they were there?”
Tina rolled onto her side and pulled Al close, hoping to chase away whatever images were making him cry out in his sleep. “Shh, sweetie, it’s ok. I’ve got you,” she promised. She held him until she felt his body relax, and fell back asleep.
He was standing in the middle of a cold stream, as men shot at each other from behind and in front of him. Squinting through the gun smoke, he saw that some of the uniforms were blue, others were grey. Men and horses screamed in agony as they were wounded, some mortally.
He staggered towards the shore and climbed out as cannons boomed, and then he heard a weak voice calling out his name. He turned towards the dying soldier, knowing immediately that he couldn’t do anything for the young man, except take the letter he was holding in one bloodied hand and promise to find the soldier’s wife and give it to her.
Machineguns chattered, and he ducked underwater until the noise stopped. He was surrounded by men in fatigues, their faces painted with streaks of black and green. One of them reached down and yanked a floating body out of the water to see if it was friend or foe, then turned to him and said, “Damn, Magic. How’d you know they were there?”
Something Al had said earlier was troubling Sammy Jo, and she couldn’t fall asleep. She got out of bed, put on her robe, made herself a mug of hot cocoa and went out to the living room and curled up on the couch. “Ziggy?” she called out.
“Yes?”
“This is probably going to sound...crazy, but...do you think there’s any possibility that the neuro-link between Dad and Al is still...well, there?”
“I don’t see why it would be. Once we got your father home and there was no further need for the Imaging Chamber, I would assume the connection between their minds would’ve been terminated. Especially given the rather...violent way the Imaging Chamber was taken offline.”
“Yeah. That’s part of what’s bothering me,” Sammy Jo said, taking a sip of her cocoa.
“How so?”
“Well, we never really considered how to...end that connection. We just, as you said, assumed it would end naturally on its own, once Dad was back.” She sipped some more, then postulated, “What if the connection hasn’t died? What if their minds are still linked? We know that they merged during the simo-Leap, so obviously the link between their minds was stronger at that point. None of us thought to check if...things went back the way they were supposed to after Al got back.”
“Hmm. I see your point. If that truly is the case, then...”
“It’s just a matter of time before whatever Dad’s experiencing starts to affect Al, as well,” Sammy Jo finished.
“That...would be most unfortunate.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Sammy Jo sat quietly in thought as she finished her cocoa.
Cat tossed and turned, caught in a terrifying nightmare.
The only way they could fully cure Sam was by completely draining her father’s mind, effectively leaving him a vegetable. No matter how she begged, no matter how she cried, they wouldn’t stop. “Sam has to have his mind back, Cat,” Donna said imperiously. “You know that.”
“But he’s my father!” she cried. “You can’t do this to him!”
“He’s lived his life,” Tina said emotionlessly. “Sam is still young. He can still do so much good. Al would understand.”
“No, he wouldn’t! It doesn’t make any sense!”
“Their minds are still linked,” Ziggy said coldly. “The only thing keeping Doctor Beckett from getting better is the Admiral.”
“He won’t even know anything happened,” Verbeena said. She alone seemed to have some compassion. “We’ll just put him to sleep, and he’ll never wake up again.”
“But you can’t do this! It’s wrong! You’re a doctor! You have to know this is wrong!”
She sat up, screaming.