Sam was in shock. He wanted his mouth to work, but all that was coming out was spluttering nonsense. Al was here, physically, in the past! He could reach out and touch him and, in fact, they were sprawled out on the floor together after a misfired rescue attempt. Finally, he was able to throw out an elated, "Come here!" and pull his stupefied friend into a tight hug.
Neither of them had been solid matter to the other since...since Sam had started leaping, whenever that was. It was such a small thing, but to be able to tangibly feel his best friend's presence meant more than he could say, in any of the languages he knew. Al, too, was over the moon to be able to reach out to Sam and feel something substantial. Too often he'd been on the sidelines, cursing the fact he was a hologram when his friend had really needed him. And so they stayed in their ridiculous and overjoyed pile on the floor, an amalgam of arms, gobsmacked smiles, geometrical shirts, and silky pink pajamas.
"Thank god it's you, Sam!" Al exclaimed with a chuckle. Suddenly, he pulled away with a knitted brow. "Hang on, what are you doin' here?"
"What am I doing here?" asked an incredulous Sam, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Project?"
"Don't I wish I knew!" Starting to get to their feet, Sam noticed Al was having trouble and reached out a helping hand. Al groaned and rubbed his stomach as he was being pulled up, assuming he was just sore from the fall, but it occurred to Sam that that tumble might've actually been dangerous. Reverting back to concern, he opened his mouth to say something, but Al spoke first. "I thought we'd simo-leaped again, but, uh...well, here you are." He tossed his hand in Sam's direction.
Well, he seemed okay. Attention now back to the perplexing situation at hand, Sam upturned his eyebrows in thought. "What do you remember about what happened before you got here?"
"A flat zilch, that's what," Al replied, annoyed at himself. He was touchy when it came to admitting that he had some gaps in his usually excellent memory. Maybe it reminded him of getting old. "I just woke up, and I was here."
"Well obviously something had to have happened," Sam reasoned. His mind went back to a hazy but uneasy memory of an asylum, the feeling of an electric charge, and a cannon. "Was there any lightning when I leaped last?" Al shrugged. Sam ran his tongue over his teeth as he mulled the possibilities over in his head. "Strange...Do you remember anything that might be useful?"
Al's eyes hooded as he took offense. "If I knew anything, I'd tell you, Sam." Grunting, he shifted uncomfortably and braced his hands on his back. Noticing this, an inescapable grin began to slowly creep onto Sam's face, and he placed his hand over his mouth in an attempt to disguise his smile. This only served to irritate Al more.
"Is something amusing to you?"
He only received a carefree shrug in response. Al glowered at him.
"Never mind; I don't have time for this. Help me find the head around here, will ya?" He decided to ignore him for now, exploring the house in search of the elusive bathroom. Sam simply stood in place, arms crossed and mouth open in a huge, goofy smile, as he watched Al waddle away. The short Italian scowled over his shoulder and stopped, his patience wearing thin now. "What is it? What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Sam smirked, "I just find it...karmic, that you leaped into who you did. Call it payback for all the grief you gave me."
"Ha ha, Sam. I'm not kidding; this is an emergency!" Al wasn't sharing his humorous disposition. He jumped up and down to try and hold it in.
Sam wasn't one to be cruel, but Al had spent too many years making fun of him to resist teasing. "Welcome to my hell. Every time I leap into a woman you're constantly making wisecracks at my expense, and now it's your turn. Now you have to go through everything I have!"
"Yeah yeah..." Al made some sort of noise that may or may not have been a word and waved him off, deciding to save any impressive comeback for later. He settled on a dirty look and returned to his quest to relieve himself. Evidently, Sam decided to have mercy and search along with him. "Jeez, I never knew women needed to pee this much."
"Especially when they're pregnant," an amused Sam said offhandedly.
Immediately, Al came to a halt.
Slowly spinning to face Sam, his face completely deadpan, he blinked and questioned, "What was that?"
Oh. All this time, Sam had assumed Al had gotten a chance to look in the mirror before he'd arrived. Now, it suddenly dawned on him that Al had no idea of his condition. He didn't know whether to laugh, feel sorry for him, or both. "You mean you didn't know?"
One could hear a pin drop in the silence that hung in the air. Very still now, Sam waited for Al's answer. At last, the quiet was broken by a sort of snort-chuckle combo. "Right, Sam, very funny. You're a barrel of laughs."
"Who's joking?"
"I am not pregnant," Al stated very matter-of-factly, tickled by the absurd implication.
"Of course you aren't," Sam agreed, a smirk still firmly on his face, "but the woman you leaped into is."
"No-o," Al insisted, leaning his head toward him emphatically, "I think I would know if I were pregnant, and this lady is definitely not."
"Oh she definitely is! Look in the mirror!" His grin growing ever wider, Sam hurried across the room and found the restroom at last, holding it open for his friend. Bladder too full to argue at the moment, Al rushed inside and gave Sam a glare before quickly slamming the door shut.
This was going to be good. All Sam could do was bite back his laughter and wait. Inside the bathroom, there was a muffled splash and Al moaned in pleasure at his final release. Once the noise subsided, there was a brief pause as he was no doubt finally seeing his full reflection, and then...the unmistakable sounds of heaving into the toilet. The last part made Sam feel a little less pleased and a little more guilty.
A minute or so later, the door opened again and a pale Al Calavicci staggered out of the bathroom, sweating through his pink PJs. Staring distantly ahead, past the wall and toward god knows what, he breathed, "This can't be happening right now."
Sam spread out his hands as if to absolve himself of any responsibility. "Sorry, Al. You're expecting."
"Saaaaam!" Al whined, turning toward him now and flapping his arms in panic, "Sam, you've gotta help me! I can't do this!"
"Sure you can. If I could do it, so can you." Sam tried his best to be sympathetic, although the situation was still as absurdly comical to him now as it was before.
"But I don't know how to be pregnant! You've got more experience!"
"Oh yeah," Sam mused, clucking his tongue, "What was it you said to me then? It was all in my head...?"
"Now that's not fair, Sam!" Al griped and pointed defensively. "What were the odds that Gooshie's theory would be correct?"
"You mean Ziggy."
"Huh?"
"You mean Ziggy's theory."
"That's what I said."
Al's eyes shifted. It was Sam's turn to point, as he exclaimed accusatorily, "Your brain is swiss-cheesed!"
"Is not!" He sounded like a petulant child.
"Okay, fine," Sam folded his arms again, deciding to play along, "Tell me Gooshie's real name."
A beat. "I know it, I just can't say it," Al sneered and nodded decisively, "It's the rules, Sam. I can't tell you what you don't remember."
"Or what you don't remember! Oh, this is too good!" Sam cackled as Al fixed him with a withering gaze.
"Oh that's nice, Sam, really nice. That's very mature." He braced his back again and that only made Sam laugh harder.
"Look at you, Al," Sam gestured toward his cotton candy pink pajamas, squinting through tear-streaked eyes, "You look ridiculous!"
"It's not funny, Sam," Al grumbled at the floor, nearly inaudible now. Deflated with wounded pride, his arms flopped to his sides, a sad, pink marshmallow. It would be humorous if it weren't so depressing. Now Sam's remorse came crawling back and he quieted down. He tried to comfort him, putting an arm around his shoulder.
"Oh come on, Al. If there's anyone who knows women, it's you. As for the pregnancy stuff, well, it's completely natural. You'll be able to deal with it."
"A pregnant man is not natural, Sam."
"Well, it sure came naturally to me," he muttered to himself.
That didn't help. Al's voice rose again. "Hey, you don't think I'll have to, uh...you know, like you did?" His eyes darted toward Sam's midsection as the memory of that leap came back to haunt him. Al wasn't one to admit he was wrong often, but instantly he was filled with regret for giving Sam such a hard time.
"I don't know, Al. Maybe, maybe not. This leap might not have anything to do with the birth."
"Saaam!" Al was whining again. Sam tightened his grip on his shoulder and tried to be the voice of calm. He wasn't used to being the one taking the lead on leaps.
"Let's not worry about what might or might not happen and focus on the facts, okay?" he suggested, assuming getting to action would distract Al. It did. "If you're here, then that means the Project is going to need time to get a lock on us, right?"
"Right." Al nodded, his stress subsiding as he began to focus on something else. He brightened up considerably as he tapped into some of his memories of the Project. Take that, swiss-cheesing. "Once the person in the Waiting Room helps us narrow down the, uh, when and where, Goosh-I mean Ziggy, pops me into your time. But since no one is tuned in to our brainwaves..." His excitement fizzled out mid-sentence.
"...no one can get a lock on us," Sam finished, discouraged.
Well, things could be going better. The prospect of being cut off from the Project and stuck in the Tanaka's lives didn't appeal to either one of them, but how could they contact the Project from 1986? They were still nearly a decade away from Sam's first leap.
"Wait!" Al snapped his fingers, another memory coming back to him. A knowing glint in his eye, he proclaimed happily, "Yes they can! Zig-I mean Gooshie!" He scrunched his face at his continued mix-up, but he kept going, "Gooshie was able to tune into your brainwaves in my absence, Sam! When Leon, uh, Leon whatshisname escaped from the Project. Remember?" Sam wished he did, but he shook his head no. Al rolled his eyes. "Great. Between the two of us, we should have half a brain. Just trust me on this, the Project can contact us. It might not be a perfect reception, but it'll get us where we want to go."
His back was really bothering him now, so he moseyed on over to the couch again. As he sat himself down, a reenergized Sam was pacing in thought. "Good! So, like I was saying, that just means it'll take them some time to show up and tell us what happened to get you here. Then we can find out what we need to do to leap." Out of nowhere, he made a 180 and faced Al, his eyes crinkled with a grin. "Aaaal..."
Al didn't like that look on his friend's face, assuming he was about to be the butt of another joke. "What?" he asked cautiously, his eyes narrowed.
"Al!" Sam said his name as if it were an obvious statement, spreading out his arms enthusiastically. "We're on a leap together! You're here, and I'm here, and we're on a leap! Don Quixote and Sancho, together at last-righting wrongs in time!"
As moody and stressed as Al was, Sam's excitement was infectious. He chuckled and let his head fall into his hand. "It's good to see you too, pal."
The phone rang and Al swiveled his head behind him to the kitchen. "I'll get it," Sam said, already on his way to the phone on the wall. "Tanaka residence." He listened for a moment. "Tomorrow at 9? Uh, yes, we'll be there. Thanks for the reminder. Hey, um, could you refresh my memory on the address please?" Grabbing a pen from a googly-eyed glass owl, along with a piece of stationery, he wrote down the information before hanging up.
When he came back in, chewing on the pen and looking over the piece of paper still in his hand, Al fixed him with a questioning look. "And what did you just sign us up for?"
Looking up, Sam took the pen out of his mouth and motioned it toward his friend's stomach, an apologetic smile in place. "You have a doctor's appointment."
"No, Sam! No, I'm not going!" Al was immediately up in arms, shaking his head adamantly.
"You have to pretend you're Mrs. Tanaka, Al."
"That doesn't mean I'm going to get myself checked over by an obstetrician! No way! The appointment's canceled!" Al nodded resolutely, as if by saying it the deed had already been done. Stooping to his knee beside him, Sam fixed him with one of those puppy dog looks he hated.
"Al, what if we've leaped here because something's wrong with the baby?"
"I can't believe you talked me into this, Sam."
In a small waiting room in a New York hospital, two irritable and time-lost friends found themselves sitting together waiting for a prenatal visit. On a list of 100 things Sam guessed yesterday that he might be doing today, this wasn't even a passing thought.
After an uneasy night of sleep (Sam had insisted on taking the couch and leaving Al the bedroom, considering his state. "And they say chivalry is dead," Al had responded sarcastically.), they came to the conclusion that they should probably know Mrs. Tanaka's first name. Kiyoko, according to her license. Al had raided the closet for something other than sleepwear to put on, and was pleasantly surprised to find a large collection of pants. Comfortable, banded pants, he noted. Sam didn't say this out loud, but he thought her colorful taste in clothing wasn't that far off from Al's usual apparel. Together with her husband's intrinsically 80s wardrobe, the two of them had become a kaleidoscope of questionable taste. After Al had decided on a polka-dotted, teal shirt and purple slacks, the two of them had shared an awkward drive to the doctor's appointment.
"I hate hospitals," Al groused, "always have, even before 'Nam."
"Would you keep it down?" whispered Sam, "You're supposed to be Kiyoko; you didn't go to Vietnam. Here, read a magazine." He handed Al the rolled up magazine he'd been twisting to keep his hands busy, heading to the reception desk to check on when the doctor would be seeing them. Al gave him the stink eye before opening the magazine, only to immediately close it in distaste when he saw some of the pregnancy pictures. Yeesh, was there anything in here that didn't relate to children?
As if summoned by the thought, a small girl with straw-colored hair, about four, cautiously approached him. "Why are you wearing girl's clothes?" she asked through the finger in her mouth.
Al did a double take. She could see him as him! For some reason, young children were able to see past the leaping auras to the true person within. And right now, the person within was a startled admiral.
"Because she's a woman, Sandy." The reply came from another pregnant woman, who took her daughter's hand out of her mouth.
"But that's a boy!"
"Now don't be rude!" the mother scolded, and she gave Al an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if she's bothering you."
Al was just relieved to not have to explain himself. He cleared his throat. "It's no problem."
"Children are such a handful," the woman said, then set her eyes maternally on Al's stomach, "Is this your first?"
"Huh?" he said dumbly, before quickly realizing where she was looking. "Oh! Uh...yeah, sure it's my first." His eyes wandered in search of a distraction, but the mother was loathsomely outgoing.
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Uh, it's a...we're waiting to be surprised." A pained smile. Normally, Al enjoyed chatting up someone of the female persuasion, but this wasn't the kind of baby talk he had in mind.
Sandy's mother looked toward Sam, searching for friendly conversation. "Is he the father?"
Al's eyes glazed over. "Not by choice." He received a strange look, but they were thankfully interrupted.
"Kiyoko?" It was the nurse calling him in. Happy for a way out of the conversation, Al abruptly stood up. It was the quickest he'd been able to move since he started this leap.
Unfortunately, he was going from an embarrassing situation to an extremely embarrassing situation. And so he sat on the exam table, Sam at his side, awkwardly avoiding eye contact while they waited for the obstetrician to show up.
"Sam, I'll never forgive you for this."
Sam pursed his lips. He was getting tired of Al's attitude already. "Would you rather be doing this with the real Akio?"
"The real Akio wouldn't force his poor wife to visit some baby catcher against her will."
"To the real Akio, you would be his wife."
Sam tapped his foot. Al made a face like he'd just sucked on a lemon.
"All I can say is thank god it was you, Sam. When you first showed up, I thought I'd have to be faking headaches."
"Al, you're nine months pregnant."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, not you, Al; Kiyoko is-"
"What, you think I'm not attractive anymore, is that it?"
"Al, you're not-"
"I'll have you know, Sam, women have sex all throughout their pregnancy, and-"
"Al, would you just calm down?"
"Tell me to calm down one more time and I'll shove your 'calm' right down your-"
The door opened and they immediately clammed up and straightened their postures. The doctor was an older woman with round glasses, and either didn't catch the bickering or chose not to comment.
"Nice to see you both again," she greeted. The two men nodded in response, smiles plastered on their faces.
The appointment began and Sam and Al went about the difficult task of attempting to answer health-related questions about a woman they knew next to nothing about. This would've been a swell time for the Project to contact them with information, but since the Project was still AWOL that left them SOL.
"How have you been feeling?" asked the doctor as she took Al's blood pressure, "Any headaches? Swelling? Contractions?"
"No contractions!" Al yelled, slightly higher in pitch than he'd intended. Sam tried to cover.
"Uh, she means everything seems to be the same as the last time we were here," he said, trying to sound vague enough to coax some information out of her.
"Well, your blood pressure is a little higher than normal..." she remarked, and Sam and Al tensed up, "but I don't think it's anything to be too concerned about. I bet you're just anxious to finally see your little one, aren't you?"
"Oh, you bet!" There was that fake laugh again.
"Well you're at 41 weeks now; the baby's certainly taking its time." The doctor startled him by lifting up his shirt and feeling his stomach. Sam, also caught off guard, pretended his laugh was a cough. Al shot daggers at him, wriggling uncomfortably as the doctor probed him. "If you don't go into labor within the next week, I'd strongly recommend scheduling to be induced."
"THAT won't be necessary!" Al yelped as she touched a particularly ticklish spot. She grinned.
"Well, everything seems to be normal, so we don't have to discuss inducing just yet. I'd like to run some routine tests just to be sure, but otherwise I think your body's doing what it needs to do."
Al shifted nervously. He hated needles. "Tests? What kind of tests?"
His response was a cup.
"Well, that was the second most humiliating time I've had to pee in a cup," Al mumbled to the asphalt as he and Sam made their way to the car. Sam raised his eyebrows. He had to know.
"The 'second' most humiliating time? What was the first?"
"Never mind," Al continued, "This little detour got us zippo! We're exactly where we started, dignity notwithstanding." The last part was emphasized with a pointed look. He placed his hands on the roof of the car as Sam searched for the right key. "Any other brilliant ideas, super genius?"
"So I was wrong, Al," said Sam through gritted teeth, "It's not like we have a lot to work with here."
"So? Use that leaper's intuition you seem to always have. Or do you only get that when you want to prove me wrong?"
"Al, don't start-"
"Dr. Beckett? Admiral Calavicci?"
"AH!" They screamed in unison. Sam spun around so fast he nearly dropped the keys, finding a welcome, but glitchy, face staring back at him. Gooshie was standing in the parking lot, fading in and out, bearing a look of equal surprise. Apparently he'd been just as rattled by their reaction.
"Gooshie!" Sam exclaimed. "Oh boy, it's good to see you!" He made a move to hug him before he remembered he was a hologram, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Gooshie? Where?" Al circled around the car next to Sam, suddenly more hopeful.
"It's a pleasure to see you too, Dr. Beckett," Gooshie cheerfully replied with a voice that sounded tinny and distant. When he heard it, Al jumped and grabbed his chest.
"Jeez, Goosh, give me a heart attack, will you? Where the hell are you?" He peered in the direction of Gooshie's voice, but he seemed to look right through him. Sam furrowed his brows as Al massaged his chest.
"You mean you don't see him?"
"No. Do you?"
Gooshie quickly jumped in to explain. "Unfortunately, we can only transmit a visual signal to you, Dr. Beckett. We're having some trouble tuning in to Admiral Calavicci's brainwaves. As it is, we're already draining enough power to light Albuquerque just to be able to contact the both of you at the same time."
"I can tell, you're fading in and out." Sam squinted and tried to focus his eyes on the chief programmer's wavy image.
"Oh, that's not the power drain. I'm not tuned in to your exact brainwaves. Ziggy always did have trouble tuning anyone to you other than Admiral Calavicci." The handlink squealed in protest and Gooshie startled. "Uh, no offense, Ziggy."
Hands clasped behind his back, Al proudly bounced on the balls of his feet. "Well of course she has no problem tuning my brainwaves in; I'm the best damn Observer you've got."
The handlink plinked and Gooshie read it nervously. "Oh, uh...Ziggy says you're the only designated Observer, so that statement must be correct by default."
That killed Al's good vibes real quick. "Can it, Zig, or I'll feed your microchips into a blender!"
A metallic shriek. "Oh...oh my..." Gooshie's face turned red, apparently reading something he preferred not to repeat.
"Children," Sam butted in, arms spread out, "if you're finished, I think we should save Albuquerque some power and get to more pressing matters."
"Right," Al agreed, although he still had a bone to pick with Ziggy, "Like for instance, how the hell I ended up a leaper?"
Hesitantly, Gooshie scratched at his mustache. "I'm afraid we haven't the foggiest, Admiral."
"What do you mean? You don't know? Ziggy records everything at the Project!" Al was discouraged, but angry at the same time. Quietly, he added to himself, "Including some things I'd rather she kept private..."
"O-of course, Admiral," Gooshie stuttered apologetically, "But even Ziggy doesn't know! It was the strangest thing. You were in the Imaging Chamber-uh, wrapping up Sam's last leap-when all of a sudden...you vanished!"
"Vanished?" Al squinted one eye.
"Into thin air!"
"Could it have been a lightning strike? Like last time?" Sam suggested. Gooshie shook his head.
"We ran the readings from the Imaging Chamber against the data from the previous instance when the Admiral leaped, but it doesn't match. There's no evidence of an electric shock, or any outside force that could have caused him to travel through time. It wasn't until two people arrived in the Waiting Room that we were entirely sure that leaping is what had occurred. That's when Ziggy completely shut down most of the Project! She said there were too many factors she couldn't explain, a-and she had to reduce unnecessary power to analyze scenarios. That's another reason why we took so long to locate you two." Another squeal. He tried to placate the multicolored cubes in his hand. "But, uh, I assure you, everything is functioning as normal again." Looking back up at Sam and Al, he took a deep breath. He wasn't used to long conversation, since most of his time at the Project was spent quietly tangled in wires and circuits.
Al wasn't happy, not one bit. He leaned against the car in dismay, trying and failing to pull his last moments at the Project from his memory. Sam decided to keep things moving.
"Okay," he said, "For whatever reason, Al and I are both here. Does Ziggy know what it is we're supposed to do?"
"Actually, yes." Gooshie's face lit up at the chance to bring them an actual answer. That is, until he had to actually give it to them.
"What is it?"
"Well," the hologram began, his jitters not being entirely due to the poor reception, "Ziggy says that tomorrow night...Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka both disappear."