Author's note and disclaimer:Nope, I do not own the copyrighted characters of Quantum Leap; although Doctor Streebing is my own OC. I wrote this fic over fifteen years ago on a computer that used WordPerfect 5.1, so I am not sure how well the formatting survived the transition to MS Word. I did run this fic through spell/grammar check, so I am hoping it came out all right. Anyways, I do hope you get some enjoyment out of this story!
SOMEWHERE IN THERE
NOVEMBER 26, 2001
Darkness dissolved into blinding, bright light, and a throbbing pain encircled his head like a rubber band. He ran his fingers along the top of his head, only to find a lump that felt as big as a golf ball. Turning his head to one side, Albert Calavicci caught sight of a pretty blonde in a nurse's uniform and a handsome, young-looking man.
"Ooohhhhhhh," Al moaned, rubbing the knot on his head. "What happened?"
"Are you all right, Honey?" Tina whispered, leaning over and kissing Al on the cheek.
"Where am I?" There was fear in the man's voice. "What's going on?"
"It's okay, Al. We're here, Buddy, right here," Sam Beckett assured his injured friend. "There's no need to be afraid."
"Al. . . you know my name? How. . . I mean . . . who are you two?"
"Al, please don't," Sam said, his voice trembling. "This is no time for joking around."
"Come again?"
"Stop it!" Sam's eyes filled with fear. "I know you like to goof around with us, but memory loss is nothing to joke about!"
Frustration, confusion, and fear bubbled inside of the injured man. He tried to sit up but a tidal wave of dizziness swept over him. Closing his eyes, Al slipped back onto his pillow and rubbed the throbbing lump that pounded like a bass drum. He clapped his left hand over his mouth and felt a smooth, cold sheet of metal rub against his face; and when he opened his eyes, he saw a splint securely fastened to his ring finger with adhesive tape. At the sight of the splint, he shuddered.
"What's happening?" Al's voice quivered as he spoke. "H-how . . . how did I get hurt?"
"You fell off a step ladder trying to change a light bulb," Tina replied. "The doctor says you have a bad bump on your head, a broken finger, and a badly twisted ankle. He says you're lucky that's all you broke."
"I . . . fell?"
". . . And landed on a hard-wood floor," Tina took Al's hand in hers and gently squeezed it. "Oh, Al, when I heard the crash and saw you there . . . so still . . . so . . . oh God. I saw you there and . . . I thought my heart would stop."
"Who are you?"
Al looked up at them, his wide eyes full of tears. Sam and Tina stared at each other for a few seconds.
"Oh my G--," Sam swallowed hard. "I. . . I don't think he's faking. He wouldn't be crying if he were faking it. Al, I'm Sam
. . . Sam Beckett, your best friend."
Al shot a confused glance at Sam and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I never saw you before."
"Sam, go get Doctor Streebing!" Tina's voice rose in panic. "He's down the hall. Get him now, damn it!"
At Tina's hysterical command, Sam darted out of the room. Tina looked at Al, and he stared blankly into her blue eyes. When she squeezed his hand harder, a sharp pain pierced through Al's broken finger like a spear, and he winced. Seeing the pained expression on his face, she loosened her grip, glancing at him with an apologetic look.
"Al. . . " she began, "Can't you remember anything? Do you know who I am?"
"No," he said with a weak grin. "But I'd sure like to get to know you better . . . if you know what I mean."
"I'm Tina. . . Tina Calavicci, your wife."
"No!" Al immediately regretted screaming when the pain in his head exploded, leaving a blanket of dizziness. He pulled his hand free and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, hoping to relieve the intense pain. "I. . . I'm not married . . . not any more."
"Yes, you are," Tina burst out. "We just got married. . . "Her voice fell, "two weeks ago."
"That's not true. It can't be true. My wife . . . she's . . . she's gone . . . both of them. . . Beth and Anna are gone. I can't be mar-- no."
Tina reached for the night stand on the other side of Al's bed and produced a man's gold wedding band. "See," she said, "this is your wedding ring." She held it up next to hers. When Al stared at the wedding band and shook his head, Tina's face grew pale. "Al, please believe me."
"I just got a divorce, lady. Why would I be stupid enough to give up my freedom and marry a stranger three days later?"
"Oh, Honey, we've been dating for over six and a half years. You finally got up the nerve to propose two months ago.
"Stop it! Just stop it and give the ring back to your real husband.
"You're my real husband!"
"No," Al protested. "I saw him with you. He went to get the doctor.
"Sam? No, he's our friend . . . our friend."
Suddenly, voices were heard beyond the open door. Neither Tina nor Al could understand what they were saying. The dialogue became clearer as Sam and a gray-haired doctor, wearing a white lab coat, entered still engaged in conversation.
"You say he's been like this since he woke up?" Doctor Streebing approached Al's bed and casually rested a hand on the metal bed rail.
When Doctor Streebing shot a glance at Sam, he nodded, "Yeah."
Doctor Streebing turned back to face Al. "Well," he said cheerfully, "you gave us quite a scare, Admiral."
"Admiral?" Al gave the doctor a disoriented glance. "I'm an admiral?"
"Ya see what I mean?" Sam whispered to the physician.
"Sam," Tina added, "Al's lost the last twenty-four years of his life. He said he just broke up with someone named Anna and he . . . ."
"Anna . . . That was his second wife."
"And he thinks you're my husband."
"Oh, God, it's worse than I thought."
"Admiral," Doctor Streebing moved in close to examine the confused patient, "I want you to look straight ahead." He shone a pen light into his eyes. "That's it; just keep looking at the light . . . all right, you can relax now, Admiral." He directed his next glance toward Sam and Tina. "Well, his pupils are dilated--"
"A concussion," Sam interrupted.
"He took a pretty bad blow to the head, Doctor Beckett."
"But what about the memory loss?" Tina inquired. "How do you explain that, Doctor?"
"Well, Nurse Calavicci, he suffered a minor head trauma, and that generated the memory loss. Sometimes the condition is temporary . . . sometimes it's . . . ."
"Sometimes it's . . . permanent." Sam murmured under his breath. "Oh please don't let it be permanent."
Frustration and confusion seemed to over-power Al. He couldn't make sense of the conversation that was taking place. Again, he rubbed the knot that marked the blow that may have caused the dizzying disorientation; and again, he wanted to sit up. To avoid the head rush that had sent him back against the pillow before, he was more careful when he made the effort this time. He reached up with both hands, coiled his nine good fingers around the bed rail, and slowly hoisted himself up to a sitting position.
"Please," he begged, "Would someone please explain what's happening to me. Don't talk about me like I'm not even here . . . I . . . I want to know . . . please." His voice was as desperate as the look in his tear-filled eyes. "Please."
"Well . . . um . . ." Sam had a great deal of trouble finding the right words. "We . . . we think uh . . . We think the blow to your head may . . . may 'ave caused a loss of memory. It's been twenty-four years since your second wife divorced you."
"No," Al protested, "That . . . that's impossible. It can't be."
"Al, you've gotta believe me; it's true. Somehow you lost twenty-four years of your life. It's November 26, 2001; you're an ex-astronaut and a Navy admiral. Tina . . . Tina, the woman over there," Sam gestured to Tina, "she's your wife. You two just got married two weeks ago."
"No," Al argued, "I don't even know her!"
"Al, please try to remember," Tina blurted out. "We . . . we've known each other for six and a half years."
"Nooooooooo!"
"Tina, I think you're just confusing him all the more." Sam rested a warm, caring hand on her shoulder. "The worst thing you can do is upset an amnestic."
"Doctor Beckett is right. First he has to admit he has a problem before he can overcome it." Doctor Streebing added.
"Does anybody have a copy of today's paper?" Al broke into the conversation.
"There are some papers in the gift shop downstairs. I'll getchoo one." Tina put the wedding ring back on the night stand and headed out of the room.
"Why does she keep insisting that I'm her husband?"
"That's because you are, Buddy!" Sam tried to sound convincing, but his voice was distraught. "Didn't she show you this?" Sam picked up the ring and held it before his friend.
"That's yours. Come on, you're her husband and you know it. So you can just take this ring back."
"I can't," Sam presented his left hand to reveal his own wedding ring.
"Then it's his," Al pointed to the doctor.
"No, Admiral," the doctor disagreed, "I'm not married."
"Oh yeah?"
"I'll prove it to you." Doctor Streebing took the wedding band, placed it on his own tapered finger, and then held his hand out, his finger pointing down, and allowed the ring to slip off onto the floor.
Al stared with wide eyes as Sam retrieved the jewelry and reaching for his friend's hand, he replaced his class ring with the wedding ring. It was a perfect fit. A lump formed in Al's throat as he slipped the ring off. "Oh my God, it is mine . . . ."
Just then, Tina re-entered the room with the requested newspaper and handed it to Al. He glanced at the headlines that didn't seem to make any sense. When he looked for the date, his heart leapt into his throat.
"November 26, 2001. . . no . . . it can't be." Al tried to deny that the date in the paper was the real thing, but deep down he knew it was the truth. "No . . . Please, God . . . no." He then looked up at the three concerned faces. "I want a mirror. I want to see a mirror."
When Sam brought the injured man a small mirror, he held it before the trembling patient. Al, expecting to see a forty-three -year-old man's reflection, froze when he caught sight of the graying older man. Then he asked Sam to remove the mirror and show him his chart. All signs of color drained from his face as he read.
"My G-- . . . What's happened to me? I'm going gray . . . I'm an old man."
"You lost the last twenty-four years of your life, Buddy. You hitcher head and you can't remember anything past 1977. . . not yet anyway." Sam squeezed Al's shoulder. "Don't worry; you'll remember again . . . You have to."
"Wait a second," Al said with a quiver in his voice. "Are you trying to tell me I . . . I . . . have amnesia?"
Sam found himself at a loss for words. He desperately wanted to hold back the tears for Al and Tina's sake. After he swallowed a few times and took several deep breaths, he nodded and darted out of the room. He could hear his heart pound and feel his face flush with denial, sadness, and anger. Hot, salty tears poured from his eyes as he flopped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. There was nothing he could do to stop the sobs that shot through him like a bolt of lightning.
Whenever I Quantum leaped, I found myself in situations I wasn't sure I could handle. I learned to think fast and act fast no matter how disoriented I was, but none of those leaps prepared me for the terror and feeling of helplessness I had when I saw Al in that hospital bed and found that he was suffering from a lot more than minor injuries.
When Sam raised his head, he saw Tina strolling down the corridor calling his name. He wiped the tears away with his sleeve and drew in another deep breath. There was no way he would let Tina see him in such a distraught state; he had to be strong for her.
"Sam," Tina sat on the arm of his chair. "Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry," he apologized with wide eyes and quivering lips. "You and Al need me, and the last thing you'd want is for me to fall apart on you like this."
"I just can't believe this is happening, Sam. It just happened so suddenly. One minute Al and I are happy . . . just married . . . bought a new house. Our lives couldn't get any better. Then the accident . . . . Oh, God . . . ." Tina's eyes were wide, blue pools of tears. "I . . . I was getting ready to come here on my regular shift, and Al said he was going to stay home, do some unpacking, and fix some little things here and there. I was just about to . . . walk out the door when I heard a . . . crash upstairs. At first I thought he dropped something. But it got so quiet." Tina cupped one hand over her mouth and drew several shallow breathes.
"Tina," Sam laid his hand on her back. "You don't have--"
"I have to tell somebody," she interrupted. "I ran upstairs and found a dead light bulb on the floor in the hall by the guest bedroom . . . and . . . ." She sniffled. "I walked in and found him there." She paused and took a deep breath. "I rode with him in the ambulance . . . all the time refusing to believe this was really happening. But when I saw that doctor and the orderly put Al on that gurney and take him away, I couldn't deny it any longer." She fell into Sam's arms and sobbed violently.
A feeling of helplessness flooded through Sam's body. He knew there was nothing he could do to take Tina's pain away.
"Oh, Sam," Tina managed to say. "This is all like a bad dream."
"He's going to be all right," was all Sam could say.
"All right!" She sat up and stared directly into Sam's concerned, hazel eyes. "You're all right if you skin your knee; you're all right when you burn your hand on the stove; but when you're going to the hospital in the back of an ambulance, you're not all right!" She sprang to her feet. "You tell me Sam, if he's going to be all right, then why doesn't he remember us?"
"Maybe it's temporary," Sam tried to convince himself as well as Tina. "I mean . . . um . . . maybe he'll recover in a few hours. He took . . . " With one hand cupped over his mouth, Sam took a deep breath. "He took a pretty bad knock to the head ya know; memory loss is common among patients with head injuries." Sam removed his hand and threw a glance at an unconvinced Tina. Refusing to acknowledge the truth, he swallowed the lump in his throat and muttered with a quiver in his voice, "He's, he's probably over -- over it by now. Maybe he'll get his memory back with a good night's sleep."
"Aw, Sam, do you really believe that?" Her doubting eyes peered into Sam's. "You're just saying that, aren't you?"
"Tina, he'll be fine!" he shot back with tears in his eyes. "If we give up on him, he'll give up on himself, and he'll never recover. We have to believe--"
"That's easy for you to say, Sam!" she interrupted, grabbing his arm. "Damn it, you didn't hear the crash. You didn't . . . didn't find him lying on the floor. Not knowing if he . . . ." Tina released her friend's arm and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Sam," she said with panic in her voice, "he could have died. Or been paralyzed. Or -- have permanent brain damage--"
"But he isn't dead or paralyzed or--"
"He is!" Tina turned to Sam as a lion pounces on its prey. "He is brain damaged; he can't remember a damn thing."
"But he will!" Sam sprang from the chair, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her so hard her teeth snapped together and a rush of dizziness swirled through her head. "He will if we help him. It's up to us to see him through this, Tina. I know you're scared. So am I. But we can't let Al know that. If he knows we're confused and frightened, it'll make things harder on him." Sam pulled Tina into a hug and tried to soothe her.
When she finally calmed down, she and Sam headed back to Al's room. Suddenly, a voice full of anguish and pain echoed throughout the corridor.
"Al!" Sam darted into the room to find the admiral struggling to fight off Doctor Streebing, just as a weakling would fight off a towering bully. Tina stood in the doorway, unable to speak.
"Stop it! Leave me alone!" Al struggled for his freedom, but was still too weak to resist the doctor. "I don't need tests; I need my memory!"
"I have to check you out, Admiral. It's the only way I'll be able to find out what's wrong with you." Before Al could protest, he stuck a thermometer in Al's mouth. "Keep that under your tongue!" And before the frightened patient could remove the slender instrument from his mouth, the doctor pinned Al's arms to his sides. "Lie still, Admiral!"
Al didn't heed the doctor's command as he rolled his head from one side to the other and spat out the thermometer. "I don't have a fever," he wailed. "I have amnesia!" Doctor Streebing released Al's arms, and the injured man began to rub his pounding head. "You don't understand. This problem is inside me, and it won't show up on your damn machines."
"Doctor Streebing," Sam stepped in, "I think you should leave him alone now. I know him, and he can be pretty stubborn. You won't get any co-operation from him right now, I can tell you that."
"If you say so, Doctor Beckett," Streebing gave in under protest. "Nurse, get me a sedative," he ordered.
"I told you to leave him alone!" Sam shot an angry glance at the physician
"It's just to help him sleep. That sedative, Nurse Calavicci?"
"But if Al doesn't want--" Tina began.
"The sedative," Doctor Streebing interrupted with a clipped voice, "now!"
Reluctantly, Tina slipped out of the room and returned a minute later with a white pill and a glass of water. When Doctor Streebing tried to get Al to take the pill, the distraught amnesia patient snatched it and the glass and hurled them against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Broken glass fell to the floor and rested in the puddle of spilled water. "Noooooo!" Al cried out. "I don't want a sedative; I don't want to sleep; I want my memory back!"
When a voice over the P.A. system announced that visiting hours were over, Sam approached Al and rested a loving hand on the older man's shoulder. "It's okay, Buddy. Just relax and get some rest. I'll be here first thing in the morning. Everything will be fine."
"But how can I sleep knowing I can't . . . ."
"If you wanna get your memory back, you'll have to be fresh in the morning, all right?"
"Anna always said I was fresh at night."
"Albert," Sam snapped, "That's not funny!"
"One thing that I do remember is that I hate being called Albert."
"Look, all I'm saying is you'd better get some sleep. It's no use trying to drill a tired mind. If you're all groggy, it'll be even harder for you to regain your memory. I promise I'll be here in the morning and help you get through this."
"Well . . . okay," Al agreed, closing his eyes.
After patting Al's shoulder, Sam passed a quick glance Tina and Doctor Streebing's way. "Take care of him for me, Tina." He looked back at Al once more before disappearing through the doorway.