THANK YOU, DR. BECKETT
A/N: I was inspired to write this after reminiscing about watching Good Morning, Miss Dove when I was younger. Also, in the winter of 2008, my husband and I both got sick around the same time, and I blamed it on pork chops that had been in the freezer for about a week.
CHAPTER 1
It was now December, and about a couple of weeks before Christmas. Sam had been home from leaping for about eight months now. In that time, not only had he gotten re-acquainted with his family, but he'd also learned quite a lot about them. His mother had died of natural causes in 2001, and on the night before 9/11. His brother and sister, Tom and Katie, were doing all right. Tom was living in Terre Haute, and after their mother's funeral, Katie's husband retired from the Air Force, and they moved from Hawaii to Oregon. They were also enjoying their grandchildren, and Tom was enjoying his new great-granddaughter. Sam had even attended his oldest granddaughter's high school graduation, and not only was she the class president, but also the valedictorian. In short, it had been one hell of a great eight months.
If only he could enjoy it.
Since he'd come home, he'd gotten a part-time volunteer job at the local prison, but his least favorite part was assisting with executions. And for safety and ethics reasons, he had to keep his medical background a secret. Oh, well, at least he could stay in his own time.
It was daybreak when Sam awoke with a strange feeling in his stomach. Could it be the week-old pork chops he and Donna had eaten the night before? No, that wasn't it. When they'd bought them, she'd used the Food-Saver to vacuum all the air out of the package so they'd stay fresh longer.
Sam rolled over and opened the top drawer on his nightstand, where he found the pills he'd been prescribed last spring. You see, when he came home from his last leap, he'd had a couple of seizures, and after two days of tests, was diagnosed with a condition similar to epilepsy. A mild one, mind you, but that—along with his age—was more than enough to convince him to retire. The pills he was prescribed worked wonders, even though they did take some getting used to. Maybe that'll settle my stomach, Sam thought as he took a sip from his water bottle.
Whatever the reason, Sam knew that he couldn't just lie there. He jumped out of bed and stumbled, because he was starting to feel a little dizzy, across the hall to the bathroom, collapsed in front of the toilet, and the next thing he knew, everything came up.
"Sam?" Donna's voice called a minute later as she tentatively knocked on the bathroom door. Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door to find Sam lying on the floor beside the toilet, clutching his stomach, and shivering. "Are you okay, honey?"
"Oh, boy," Sam siad as he sat up and puked another round into the toilet.
"Did you take your pill this morning?" Donna asked as she rubbed his shoulders and back.
"Yeah, and that's what came up first," Sam groaned as he laid back down and continued coughing and shivering some more.
"It's okay, Sam," Donna said as she washed her hands before laying a hand on Sam's forehead. "You're burning up." She took the thermometer out of the cabinet, put it in Sam's mouth, moved his head onto her lap, and started stroking his hair. When she removed the thermometer, she saw that it registered at 102. "Would you like to go back to bed?"
"Can't I just sleep here?" Sam asked. Then, as if some unseen force was answering his question, he suddenly sat up and puked another round into the toilet.
"I wouldn't advise it, with your back being the way it is, so it's a good thing you're having surgery on it next month," Donna said as she helped Sam up and gave him a glass of water to rinse his mouth out. "But I can make you comfortable on the couch and put something beside you just in case, okay?"
Sam nodded as Donna helped him into the living room.
"You feeling okay?" Donna asked as Sam stumbled. Donna tightened her grip on his arm to keep him steady.
"Just a little dizzy," Sam answered as he regained his balance. That's when they arrived in the living room, and Donna sat him on the couch. As Sam laid down, Donna emptied the bedroom trash can in the kitchen trash and brought it to him. Next, she went to the bathroom for the thermometer and laid it and a glass of apple juice on the coffee table beside him.
"Need anything else?"
"Not right now."
Sam took a sip of apple juice, then laid back and waited as Donna brushed his hair off his forehead. And to his surprise, it actually stayed down. Maybe it was because it wasn't a solid food.
After Donna dressed and had breakfast, she said, "Sam, I need to go to the store for a few things. I'm going to call Sammy Jo to see if she or one of the kids can come over. I don't want you to be alone."
Sam nodded as he curled up on the couch and closed his eyes, because he was starting to get a headache. Donna briefly stroked his hair, then went to the videophone in the next room. "Ziggy, dial Sammy Jo," she instructed. One of the things Sam had done soon after he got home was program Ziggy to act as a phone.
"Sammy Jo?" Donna said when she answered. "Hi, it's Donna."
"Hi! How are you feeling?" Sammy Jo asked.
"Well, I'm over the stomach flu, but I think your father has it now."
"Oh, dammit. So, it wasn't the pork chops, was it?"
"I'm afraid not. Listen, I have to run to the store. Could you or one of the kids come stay with him while I'm gone?"
"I can't. I have to get to work, but I can send Will over. He doesn't have class today, and isn't doing anything much."
"Great. Tell him I'll see him as soon as he can get here."
"You got it."
After Donna hung up, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and retrieve the bottle of Maalox from the medicine cabinet before returning to the living room. "Will is on his way over," she told Sam as she set the bottle on the coffee table.
"Great," Sam said, opening his eyes and clutching his stomach.
"Here," Donna said, handing him another pillow, which Sam hugged to his stomach. "Wow, that apple juice is staying down."
Sam nodded as he took the Maalox from Donna.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you last night: Al called after you went to bed, and told me that some of the people you've leaped into are coming to visit."
"Really? Who?"
"Well, I'm told there's a Ray Hutton..."
"He was the understudy for the lead in a touring production of Man of La Mancha," Sam recalled as he took a drink of Maalox, then more apple juice to cut the taste. He tried tossing the pillow back to the other end of the couch, but it fell to the floor. "I ended up going on after the regular actor took a drunken tumble—or, as Al called it, a Gerald Ford impersonation—down a flight of stairs."
"And he's bringing Nicole," Donna continued as she picked up the pillow and put it back in its place. "I understand that she was your former piano teacher."
"Yes. Anyone else?"
"Let's see...Billie Jean Crockett..."
"She was a pregnant teenager. I had to make sure that she didn't give up her baby for adoption, because she'd live to regret it."
"I believe she's bringing her daughter with her. I understand her name is Samantha. And there's a Katie McBain coming..."
"She was a rape victim. I thought I'd be getting justice for her, but the only justice that ended up coming was when I beat up her alleged rapist."
"Wow!" Donna marveled. "I'll bet you really did a number on that sick bast-ard, huh?"
"I'll say," Sam agreed. "I literally beat him unconscious, too."
"And last, but not least, Dr. Rice's father and sister are coming for an early Christmas, and she said she'd bring them over."
"Oh, Dr. Rice," Sam sighed. "I was her father, Dr. Sherman Ryland, and I had to keep the family from getting killed when the oldest daughter witnessed her best friend's murder. Dr. Rice is our chief cardiologist at Project Quantum Leap, and her oldest sister took over their father's hypnotherapy practice after he retired. Well, that's what Al and Dr. Rice told me."
Just then, the doorbell rang. "Oh, that's Will now," Donna said as she got up and answered the door. "Hi, Will."
"Hi, Grandma," he answered. He was wearing a light blue button-down scrub top with frogs on it, as well as white scrub pants and tennis shoes, and had a red duffel bag with a picture of a white cross on it over his left shoulder. "I heard Granddad isn't feeling well."
"I think he's caught my stomach flu," Donna told him.
"Oh, boy," Will said as he set his bag on the floor beside the armchair. "I just got over it a couple of days ago, and now Abby's got it. And not only on her fifteenth birthday, but also on the day of her debate team finals. You know, just between us, I think she's more pissed than sick."
"Poor kid. I hope she feels better soon."
"Thanks. So do we. Laura's taking care of her, which is how I was able to come over here."
"You look like you're ready for work," Donna commented as Will hung his sweater on the back of the armchair.
"This is what I wear to my classes at the college," Will explained. "I figured that since I was playing nurse for Granddad today, I'd wear it."
"Makes sense," Donna nodded, taking her sweater and purse off the hall tree. "Oh, I took his temperature soon after I got up and found him puking in the bathroom, and it was 102. You might want to take it again before too long."
"Okay," Will said as he headed into the living room, where he found Sam lying on the couch with his eyes closed, his left arm across his stomach, and his right hand on his forehead. "Hi, Granddad."
"Hi, kid," Sam managed to say as he sat up. Will opened the side pouch on his bag, pulled out a little bottle of hand sanitizer, and rubbed some on his hands.
"I'll see you later, okay, Sam?" Donna said as she rubbed his arm and kissed his cheek.
"Okay," Sam answered.
"How are you feeling?" Will asked as he adjusted the pillow behind Sam's back, the blanket over his legs, and laid a hand on his forehead while Donna got her keys and went out the door.
"I've been better," Sam answered as he went into a coughing fit and clutched his stomach. He reached for the trash can and leaned over it, but nothing came up. Will patted his grandfather's back as he put the can down on the floor beside him and leaned back against the pillow.
Will nodded. "Oh, I brought some homework to do for my nursing class while I'm here," he said.
"Oh, you did?" Sam asked as he took his hand off his forehead. "What is it?"
"Well, during vacation, we're supposed to practice checking someone's vital signs," Will explained as he rubbed more sanitizer on his hands. "May I?"
Nodding, Sam shifted his position on the couch as Will sat in the armchair and opened his bag.
After Will had finished, he put his stuff away and put his bag on the floor, then said, "Grandma tells me that your temperature was 102 this morning, and it's now 101. Your BP's also a little low. Any dizziness or numbness?"
"Only when I stand up too fast, and sometimes, it happens when I just stand up. I noticed it soon after I came home from leaping."
"Does it happen very often?"
"Every once in a while."
"How about today?"
"Well, I felt dizzy while I was going to the bathroom to puke, and then again when Donna was helping me from there to here."
Will nodded. "You know, when I'm sick, one thing Mom does is play my favorite song."
After coughing a bit, Sam said, "That's perfect. I programmed Ziggy to do that soon after I got home."
"Good. Ziggy, play my grandfather's favorite song."
"Yes, Master Pollan," Ziggy said, and within a few seconds, the first few notes of "Imagine" by John Lennon was blaring from the speakers.
"Hey, could you turn that down?" Sam asked, covering his ears and closing his eyes. "I'm starting to get a headache."
"Sorry," Will said as he picked up the remote and turned the volume down. "Is that better?"
"Much," Sam answered as he uncovered his ears and laid back. Within a few seconds, he was fast asleep.
That has the same effect on me when I'm sick, Will thought as he took the washcloth and wiped Sam's face, then let it lay across his forehead.
While Sam slept, Will grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from the bathroom and put it on the coffee table beside him, then patted Sam's face with the towel and laid a hand on his grandfather's forehead before he went to the kitchen to make some marble-rye toast and Earl Grey tea. He'd just woken up when Donna called, and hadn't had breakfast yet. I don't think she'll mind, he thought as he put the toast on a plate and the kettle started whistling.
When he returned to the living room, Sam was just starting to wake up. Will took his grandfather's temperature before he said, "Want to try a little bite of toast to see if you can keep it down?"
"Sure," Sam answered. Will went to the kitchen for the piece of toast, broke it in half, and handed a piece to Sam, who took a very tentative nibble. "Um—Will? There's no butter on this."
"Remember what you and Grandma always said about butter and upset stom-achs?"
"Point taken," Sam said as he took the washcloth and wiped his face. He started to lay it on the coffee table, but missed his mark, and it landed on the floor. Will picked it up and laid it on the coffee table.
"How about some tea?" Will suggested. "There's still some water left in the kettle."
"Sure. And could you add...?"
"Half a teaspoon of honey," they both said at the same time.
"I know just how you like it," Will smiled. "And isn't it time for your meds, too?"
"I took them this morning, then turned around and puked them back up," Sam told him. "I think I could try again, as long as taking two doses back-to-back doesn't make me sick or dizzy. Oh, and I don't want the rest of this apple juice. Could I have some ginger ale along with the tea?"
"Sure," Will said as he took the apple juice into the kitchen, dumped it in the sink, and put the glass in the dishwasher.
A minute later, Will returned with the ginger ale and set it on the coffee table. "Thanks," Sam said.
"No problem. I'll go get your pills and your tea," Will said, patting Sam's shoulder. Just as he got up, the doorbell rang. "Right after I answer the door." And he went to the front door and opened the little window on it. "Yeah?" he asked.
Standing on the front doorstep was a middle-aged slightly frumpy brunette with short wavy hair, light brown eyes, and red oval-shaped glasses. She had on a white turtleneck, tan jeans, white sneakers with black trim, and a wine-colored satin jacket with the USC logo monogrammed on the left breast. "Hi, is this Dr. Beckett's house?" she asked. And boy, was she pretty.
"Yes, but he's feeling a little under the weather right now," Will answered. "Can I help you with something?"
"Actually, yes. You see, I'm Katie McBain," the woman explained. "Well, that's my maiden name. My married name is DeYoung."
That's when it started to register with Will. A few weeks after he'd come home from leaping, Sam had told his grandchildren about some of the people he'd met and been, one of them having been named McBain. And now, here she was.
"Come on in," Will said, unlocking the door and opening it. "I'm sure my grandfather will be glad to meet you, even if he's not feeling so great."
"Thanks," Katie said as she stepped inside.
"Wait here," Will said as they entered the living room, where they found Sam's uneaten toast on the coffee table and him fast asleep on the couch. "Granddad?" Will said, gently shaking Sam's shoulder. "Wake up, you have a visit-or."
Sam gave a soft snort as he opened his eyes to find Will and Katie standing at the foot of the couch. "Hi," he said softly.
"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" Katie asked. There was no mistaking the concern in her voice, and the last thing she wanted to do was bother him when he wasn't feeling well.
"No, not at all. I'm actually starting to get a little strength back. Won't you sit down?" Sam asked, gesturing toward the armchair, as he tried to sit up. Will grabbed his arm and helped him into a sitting position, then adjusted the pillow behind his back.
"I know you probably don't remember me, or even know who I am, but I've heard a lot about you, Dr. Beckett," Katie began ans she sat in the armchair and put her purse in her lap.
"You have?"
"Yes. You see, the thing is—I'm Katie McBain."