Alone for Christmas

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright © by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

A special thank you to Al's "brunette in Delaware" for her permission to publish this story. It was written as a Christmas gift and therefore truly belongs to her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel to Christmas Past. However, it is not necessary to read it prior to reading this. Wouldn't hurt, though. The author has a third Christmas story entitled 'Twas the Night Before. That one stands alone! Enjoy and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Joyous Eid to all!

TDY Temporary Duty Assignment

Alone for Christmas

Chapter One - Remember

Being alone wasn't the way he wanted to spend Christmas Eve, but that was the way it had been for years. There was no family around that cared what happened to him. After spending the night in Manhattan with Hannah Gretz, an old and dear friend from the orphanage days, there was nothing to keep him in New York so while others in the early morning snow and cold ran around catching trains for home and happy times, he found himself buying a ticket to go west. No reason to go west except that going east ended in the ocean. The South would be warm and even if he was alone, in his mind Christmas was still a time where snow and cold was right. As for going north, well, there was a thing as too much snow. West was the way to go. The train pulled out of Grand Central Station. Al Calavicci found his way to the Club Car and on a chilly early morning, he ordered a scotch, sat by the window, put his small duffle bag on the seat next to him, and stared out; another holiday with no reason to be jolly.

A few minutes later, the Club Car finally warmed up and he took off his overcoat. Underneath the navy jacket was a Navy uniform worn by a graduate of Annapolis, now 27 years old and supposedly going home for the holidays. His friends were with their families. For him, and his TDY at his alma mater, staying at Annapolis was possible, but he was about to be transferred to an elite flying unit, a highly specialized team of pilots who would go on missions that few would ever know about. Life in the near future would be filled with secrets. Keeping them would be easy. He was used to secrets. Most of his life was secret.

So here he was, at the beginning of a new phase in life, with no place to go. There was a little sister once, a shining light, but eight years earlier, he discovered that neglect and indifference let Trudy die from pneumonia in an institution for people with untreatable mental illness. Trouble was she had no mental illness. Her social sin was being born with Down syndrome. His eyes only saw her perfection. Thoughts of how she died didn't help his mood.

The rails took up a rhythm that sounded in his head and unconsciously started his foot tapping the floor. This was a train ride he'd taken before, one that changed his life at least for a little while. Al was seven when he and his kid sister snuck on this same train, this very early morning train and went looking for their father. They didn't get far. They were discovered and taken off the train, handed over to a woman named Mona. What he thought would be the worst day of his life turned into magic. His memories of that miracle buoyed his soul every time his sad life edged toward collapsing during those frequent times when everything went wrong.

It didn't take long to finish the scotch. Never did. The thought of alcoholism ran through his head on occasion, but that scuttled after the second drink. A porter approached and since the opportunity was there, he stopped the older African-American. "Excuse me, sir." The porter paused by his seat. "If you don't mind, I could use another scotch." He pulled out his wallet and handed the porter a five dollar bill. The gentleman took the bill and just stood there. Al looked at the kind face. "I'm sorry. I thought you were working on this car. My mistake."

The porter smiled like a proud father watching his son graduate from college. "Sir, your last name is Calavicci. I can see it on case there." He pointed to Al's bag.

"Yeah, that's my name," Al looked for the porter's nametag, "Halsey." His breath stopped in his throat. "Halsey?

Though it didn't seem like a possibility, Halsey's grin got bigger. "That's me."

This ghost from his Christmas past smiled down on his lonely self. He buried his head in his hands. "I don't believe it." Looking up, he said, "Are you really Halsey from when I was a kid?"

"Yes, sir, I believe I am."

Al jumped to his feet. "I don't believe it. You're still working on this same line."

"Never left, sir."

"You can stop the 'sir', stuff. Damn, it has to be . . ." Al wasn't sure of the years.

"Nineteen years ago today, in 1941."

Astonished eyes stared at the porter. "You remember that?"

"I always think about you and Trudy, especially on Christmas Eve." He looked around the Club Car. "In fact, you're sitting in the same seat I found you in all those years ago."

"Can you sit a little while? I don't want to get you in trouble."

Halsey laughed. "Don't think I'd get in much trouble. I'm the Chief Porter on this train." Al sat back down still giddy. It made Halsey laugh. "You're even now that little boy. I can see it. Let me get your drink and I'll be right back."

He didn't want Halsey waiting on him. "No, no, I can get it."

A friendly finger pointed at him. "You stay put now, Albert. I'll be a minute."

Al let him go and for the first time in years, he thought he just might have a good holiday. Whispering to the window he murmured, "Maybe it won't be so bad this year." Fighter pilots don't get weepy so he wiped away anything that might look like a tear, took out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. Halsey came back and sat across from him. The porter handed him a cup of coffee. "That's not scotch."

"And it's barely eight in the morning. It's too early in the day for you to be drinking scotch."

He wanted his scotch. "I'm all grown up now."

"Well, you look grown up, but you aren't acting it. Grownups don't drink scotch for breakfast. You're drinking coffee." Somehow, being chastised by this ghost from his past was okay. The words were spoken out of concern and caring. "And I'm hearing bad things about smoking now. You're still young enough to break the habit."

Al ground the cig out in the tiny ashtray at his elbow. "Yeah, I'm hearing the same things, but who the hell knows how long any of us will live."

It hurt the gentle man. The little boy with the giant cynical outlook had grown into the size of his cynicism and it saddened him. "That's kind of pessimistic for a young man, isn't it?"

He was caught and covered with, "It goes with the job."

Halsey looked at the distinguished uniform Al wore and his head nodded up and down in pride. "You're in the Navy. Good for you! and you're an officer! I knew you'd do something good with your life."

The coffee burned his lips, but he took a gulp. "Glad someone knew. I sure as hell didn't think so." Hot coffee mixed with cold scotch isn't a good combination. "Do I have to drink this?"

Halsey didn't answer which Al recognized as an insistence that he down the coffee. The porter's eyes smiled bright. "I still think of you as that skinny little boy with too much of the world on his shoulders, needing someone to take care of you." The conversation stopped and Halsey knew from the tragic look on the young Lieutenant's face that Al's life spawned ugliness few could imagine. He changed the subject. "How's that sweet little sister of yours? She was such a beautiful child."

Rattling off the truth without emotion, he said, "Trudy died of pneumonia seven years ago."

His face twisted in pain. "No, not that precious life."

Al looked at e first person to demonstrate any sign of grief over the death of his dear sister. "They didn't bother to tell me she was sick." The anger in his heart surfaced immediately. "They didn't even bother to tell me she was dead until I went to get her out of there."

Halsey took a strikingly white handkerchief from his pocket and touched his eyes. "That's not right. That child adored you."

"She adored everybody. It was her way." Al squirmed. He learned years ago that crying was unacceptable behavior and even if she was the only steady person in his life, Trudy's death was old news and nothing could change it. That didn't mean he missed her any less or loved her any less. It simply showed the world that Al Calavicci could not be broken regardless of the hurt.

The handkerchief slipped back into Halsey's breast pocket. "Sweet child, that little one was such a sweet child. I'm sorry, Al. That had to be hard for you."

Trudy died during his second year at Annapolis. He wasn't going to be able to keep a home for her and stay in school, but the decision, while painful, was immediate. Trudy came first. As it was, Trudy, in her death, gave him the gift of a college education. The sacrifice his younger sister made for him was the ultimate gift, just like the one that he remembered hearing about in church the one time he paid attention. The priest said there was no greater love than laying down one's life for another. He opted not to say more about it to Halsey. That sadness didn't need to be resurrected again. Instead, he turned toward the window and took in the scenery rather than stare into the past.

Halsey put his hand on Al's knee. "Son, you're on this train for a reason. You need to be with family right now. I think you need to get off the train when we get to Philadelphia. Miss Mona still has the diner."

For a fraction of a second, he was seven years old and Santa Claus put the best train in the world under his Christmas tree. A smile and an instant of naïveté graced his world and it was just enough to slightly alter the color of this sad holiday. "Really? I'd love to see her again."

"Are you going that far?"

His destination was Chicago, but all of a sudden, Philadelphia sounded good. "I planned on going farther, but I think I'll take a sure thing."

Halsey wasn't sure what his young friend meant, but he didn't bother worrying about it. He delighted in knowing Al would be in the care of Miss Mona again. "Good, good, Mona will be happy to see you. I know that for certain." He sat back pleased with the decision. The boy Albert was going to Miss Mona's. "Yes, sir, she will be very happy."

Al smiled a true smile and his mind drifted to that time 19 years earlier when a life that held nothing but hurt and pain, for a few moments became perfect and pure. A quiet voice in his mind sang "There's a somebody I'm longing to see . . ." and he recalled his first dance with his first crush. She told him, "You have the key to my heart, little one. Every time you think no one cares, remember Mona's Diner." Christmas maybe wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Halsey left Al to consider all the potential his holiday was going to hold. As the morning lit the passing countryside, snow began to fall and a layer of white covered all the blemishes the world had and left only the impression of a world filled with truth and love.

A few hours later, the locomotive slowed the train down and stopped in Philadelphia. About a dozen people disembarked the train and with suitcases in hand moved toward the station house. A few others seemed as lost as Al. Halsey stood with the grown little boy on the platform, still a tall man that Al literally had to look up to see. "You know, when I was a kid, I thought you were bigger than Paul Bunyan. I think I may have been right."

Halsey laughed. "Paul Bunyan was a white man from Minnesota. Somehow, I don't think I'm much like him."

Al kicked a little at the snow covered platform. He was seven again. "I never thanked you for what you did for me and Trudy. She had the best holiday and then when our father showed up, well, that was amazing. You started all that for us. We never had another Christmas as good as that one, never."

"Life can't be handfuls of what happened yesterday. Keep looking to tomorrow, Albert. You got to keep expecting the next year to be better than the one you just had."

It amazed Al that a grown man could still think life got better and better. To him, it simply got longer and longer. "You're one of a kind, Halsey."

"I sure hope not, boy. I hope not." The man's arms embraced the Navy pilot and held on tight. "You be careful when you're flying those planes. No need for you to be doing anything dangerous now, understand?" Al nodded. "Good. Come back and see me sometime."

"I promise"

With a grin that shone with wisdom, Halsey quoted, "'Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted that I would ever come back.'"

"Robert Frost. I like that poem."

"Tell Miss Mona I said hello." Halsey jumped back on the train and waved. "Merry Christmas, Albert! Merry Christmas!"

Al waved back and stood next to his bag. He and one other person remained on the platform, two lost souls. The train was completely out of sight before he dared to move. Suddenly the chill in the air nipped at his face a little harder and he felt cold and alone again, cold and completely alone. Picking up his bag reinforced his opinion that his fate was to remain a nomad. Despite the isolation in his heart, he walked in the direction of Miss Mona's Diner - at least he thought it was in the direction he headed. Nineteen years has a way of dimming memories.

He liked walking even if the snow was biting at his face. Movement had purpose, keeping his body fit and giving his mind time to ask questions about things that he couldn't talk about with anyone he knew. His pilot buddies were bright, but their interests tended to end with broads and breaking mach two. He wanted to know how to fly to the moon. Computers had to get involved, but they needed to get smaller. Often he tried to figure out exactly what "time" was and how to measure it in Einstein's universe and if time could bend a little, then maybe traveling to other galaxies would be possible within a man's lifetime. Back on earth there was that guy Castro. Things were going to get heavy pretty soon. And who knows what kind of mess southeast Asia was going to turn into. His friends told him he thought too much, but he didn't know how that was possible. Thinking beyond his own existence kept a part of him alive, the part that was able to rise above all the hell he'd been through. Maybe those who dismissed his bouts of thinking just didn't realize that the future belonged to those who thought about such things.

Snow fell harder and the morning sky darkened. Al found himself winding through city streets, ending up across the street from Mona's Diner. Seeing it stopped him in his tracks. Taking those last few steps suddenly became really, really hard. The memory of that time with Mona had taken on a mystical aura. For the small boy, it morphed into magic, into events that had no basis in reality. Christmas trees don't decorate themselves. Lighted stars don't appear at the top for no reason. His mind was doing that thinking thing and it was convincing him not to go in. No reason to blow apart the fantasy he treasured.

As he turned away from the memory, he watched a woman start to cross the street. Her steps faltered a bit probably because she'd been drinking already. He stopped judging other drinkers since he started on his scotch pretty early himself. She didn't seem to see the car coming toward her, but then the driver didn't seem to see her either. There was nothing else to do but run as fast as he could and pull her back. The car whiffed by so closely that his open coat was slapped by the bumper. The woman landed on the ground and the car sped off not caring that it almost killed two people.

Al turned his attention to the woman who seemed slightly dazed by the close encounter with the careless driver. He dropped down on his knees next to her. "Ma'am, are you okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you fall."

The woman was shaking. She looked at Al, but her vision was blurred and the incident scared her. "No, no, I should be sorry. That car could have killed you. Are you alright?"

His smile could melt any woman's heart - at least that's what he'd been told - so he gave it a shot as he took her hand. "I'm fine." Her hands still shook. "Should I call for help?"

The quivering was unintentional and had nothing to do with the near accident. "Oh, you mean the trembles? Honey, that's just me. I'm the shaking queen." A small group was gathering around them and the woman was not interested in having a bigger crowd turn out. Most were out alone just like Al and the unfortunate woman who was unceremoniously still sitting on her rear end. "Honey, if you help me up here, I'll be on my way."

He liked her, a tough old broad, unapologetic for her shortcomings. "Yes, ma'am." Gently holding her hands, he helped her up. "There you go. Be careful crossing streets from now on."

Once she regained her composure and salvaged some dignity, she also smiled. Noticing his uniform she said, "Are you on furlough, on your way home for the holidays?"

"No, ma'am. I was just wandering around."

"That's not right. No one should be wandering around at Christmastime. Let me buy you a cup of coffee and the best cheeseburger you've ever had." She pointed across the street. "That's Mona's Diner and you won't find the food better anywhere else in the world. She's a great cook and her cheeseburgers are the stuff of legends."

Mona's hamburgers were wonderful. He thought about that first bite he took back in 1941. It was the best food he'd ever eaten. "I've had one of Mona's cheeseburgers. They're good, but I'm not sure about going in."

"Why not?" She joked with him, "You're not going to tell me you think you're too great an officer to go into a little diner like Mona's, are you?"

There was no conceit in him about the diner. It was facing Mona and telling her Trudy was dead and that he was still a homeless little boy needing a hand-out during the holidays. "No, ma'am, that's not it. Miss Mona has the best diner I've ever been in. It's just . . ." He wasn't sure how to explain it without telling her a very long story. "I haven't seen her in 19 years and I don't think I can go in right now."

The woman looked at him and looked again and stared for a bit and then put a quaking hand on his face. "My goodness, it's you. Al, it's you."

His heart started beating a little too fast. "I'm sorry. I don't know you, do I?"

Despite the shaking in her limbs, she sang with quiet strength. "Yet what I can I give him: give my heart."

He never would have recognized her. The voice he heard belonged to a young, red-head that Mona described as a little loud, but always entertaining. "Miss Gracie."

"You remembered. Al, I can't believe you're here." She embraced him with such tenderness. "You have to come in to see Mona. She would be so upset if you didn't come in."

The idea of fate wasn't his thing, but this was weird. Halsey finds him and then Gracie finds him. Destiny worked overtime to get him inside Mona's Diner. There was no turning away now. It pained him to see the woman that he recalled as young and vivacious shaking from some sort of disorder he didn't recognize. "I guess someone has to get you across the street safely." He smiled at her.

"Yeah, I don't see things as well as I used to, but you still have that smile. It's one of the things I remembered most about you." Coming close to his face, she stared into his eyes. "Chocolate brown, just like milk chocolate. So handsome now." She took his hand. "Come on, Mona will be happy to see you, so very, very happy!"

A duffle in one hand and Gracie in the other, Al prepared to walk across the street knowing he had to face Miss Mona. His life felt like such a failure and he was embarrassed to see her. There was nothing accomplished yet and she held such hope for him. His fiasco of a life was about to slap him in the face, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Traffic is clear. You ready?"

She held his arm, completely delighted that she was bringing Mona the best Christmas gift ever. "Lead on, Mac Duff."

As they crossed safely, Al said, "So you read Shakespeare."

"Apparently, so do you. That's good."