Chapter 28

All was quiet the next morning. He figured Al would call before coming home, if Dr. Martin released him. It had been four a.m. before he'd crawled into bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. With a groan, he rolled over on his side, debating whether to return to slumber or try to function on three hours sleep. Unconsciousness won out, tugging a pillow over his head to block the sunlight that poured through the patio doors.

At first, he thought it was a dream, the soft words stirring him awake, and the gentle touch of Al's lips on his. He blinked twice, then smiled at the face above his gaze. "You're home," he said softly.

"Said I'd kiss you awake. It's nearly noon, sleepyhead." With his fingers, Al smoothed away a lock of chestnut hair from Sam's forehead. "We're all alone, just the guards at the gate, all the way down by the road. I've missed the hell out of you. "

Sitting up, the younger man frowned at the cane Al held, then grinned, remembering his own time with the thing, but worried at how his friend leaned on the prop if his life depended on it. "You should've stayed another day."

"Martin released me, Sam. Can't say I didn't coerce her a bit, but I'm fine. Right as rain, kiddo. Please don't go into this now." Sliding onto his side of the bed, he pulled his friend close, just basking in the scent and feel of him, the way the strong arms curved around his upper body and just held him tight.

"Okay, Al; I'm just going to take care of you today." Sam kissed the baby soft skin just behind one of Al's ears, then released a grateful sigh of relief. Grinned when one of the other man's inquisitive hands moved lower, cupping one bare buttock possessively. "Not that, you...you..."

"Read my book. Horny bastard." Al fell back on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. "It's nothing but sex, mayhem, and more sex. Better'n that book she wrote about Westmoreland, and twice as racy."

"What were you drinking when you gave her the interview?"

"Wild Turkey," Al answered promptly. "She was cold sober, but if Tina had found out I had a woman in my bedroom, that would've done it."

"I saw her reaction to a man in here, Al. It doesn't take much imagination to figure out what she'd have done with Diane."

"Read Chapter Twelve. A real eye-opener. And Sixteen."

"How many chapters is this thing?" Sam carefully slid over to Al's side of the bed as he spoke, kissing the man's throat and chest.

"Uh, I...Sam! I think about...about twenty..."

"Let's make it Twenty-One," Sam said, his voice throaty as he moved lower on the prone man's body, carefully undoing each item of clothing as he kissed every exposed bit of skin on the wriggling body.

Al relished in the feel of the warm bed under him, so much better than that hospital thing. Could never find a comfortable position in it, no matter how much he tossed and turned. Deeply into a pile of printouts, reading glasses propped on the end of nose, Sam was on his side of the bed, pen poised as if to stab through paper. The kid was propped up on his elbow, that long, lean form bare-chested, totally ignorant of the other man's interested gaze. Every so often, as Al watched bemusedly, Sam would make a notation, the little frown between his eyes growing with the intensity of his thoughts. It was a temptation to roll over and grab his thoughtful lover, and kiss those pursed lips.

Trying to move was the first mistake. Sam's head came up in a second, eyes wide, then easing him back against the pillows. "You sound like you're hurting, Al. Just relax. You hungry? I can make you a burger, or..."

"Don't cook. Send out. Pizza or something." Grunting, Al moved uncomfortably. "God knows I don't want you burning the place down or something. What're you working on, Sam?"

As much as he'd tried to be very gentle the night before, Sam started guiltily at the wince that crossed his friend's face when he'd tried to sit up. Pulling the blankets up over Al and fussing over him put that smile back on the older man's face. "I was going over what Ziggy gave me last night." He eased back on the bed, cross-legged, grabbing some of the printouts. "The more I look at these," he said, gesturing over the paperwork. "It just gets more and more insane, that it could be possible."

"What? Don't give me the run-around, Sam, or I'll knock your block off."

Waving around the data, shoving a few of the more pertinent sheets under Al's nose, Sam enthused on the positive side of being a hologram. The older man's face went from total confusion to shock, then acceptance.

"So, what you're telling me is, in age, I'm about yours. We're the same age, Sam? I don't look any different."

"It's rejuvenation, not the Fountain of Youth. It works from the inside, Al. Outwardly, I wouldn't change one line of your face, but for a few years you'll heal quickly from injuries, maybe even keep you out of the running for flu season, or so Ziggy says."

"I've always had this thing, Sam. Worried about the age difference between us." A tiny grin was playing along his lips, reaching over to hold that warm hand offered him. "Is this the reward for all those years without you, Sam? At the risk of sounding maudlin, am I getting another lifetime out of this?"

"Maybe. Maybe we did the right thing, Al. I was thinking about the things I did wrong, and those that seemed right. It didn't affect me, by the way. It was all centered on the Imaging Chamber, all of the recuperative powers in that cavern, Al. It has to be our secret for now, until we can figure out some kind of practical application so it can work for terminally ill people. It's a possibility, but not for now. I'll have to make it perfect, or it could have the opposite effect. You used it for years, and Ziggy says it's a cumulative effect, only retroactive over a long length of time."

"When did you get the glasses, Sam?"

"Glasses?" He grinned, pulling the things from his nose. "I've had them for years, I guess, and use them only when my eyes are tired. I spent most of last night staring at a computer screen or out in the dark. Looking at the sky. I love the stars, Al. It was gorgeous out there, and I don't want to lose it. It's our home."

"You look so beautiful, Sam, sitting there like that." The dark eyes were growing heavy. Maybe it was just relaxing in his own bed again, and having the man he loved the most in the world free and warm next to him. "You're blushing."

"I wouldn't say I'm beautiful, Al. My nose is too big for my face, this big blob right in the middle."

"It fits it fine, Sam. Perfect, in fact." He leaned forward and kissed the very tip of the other man's nose, then eased back, satisfied at the hand that came up, gently laying against his cheek. "You're beautiful," he whispered again.

A gentle kiss topped off the words, then Sam sliding down to settle his head on Al's shoulder. He was pleased and surprised by his lover's uncharacteristic words, feeling warm and protected in the circle of his arms. "You're not so bad yourself, Al. I love that face, it's beautiful, too."

"It's weather beaten, and not all that pretty, but it does the job, Sam."

"Just a minute." Scrambling off the bed, Sam returned in a moment with the scrapbook he'd left unopened the night before. "I held this out, wanted to look at it with you."

"It's not much, Sam. I don't have a lot." Al hadn't opened the thing since maybe the fifties, was surprised that it had survived all these years. It wasn't like he'd actually made a conscious effort to keep it in one piece. The first five pages held the black corner pieces that once contained photos. "Don't ask. I got rid of these when she left, Sam. Most of them were the two of us, all kinds of places, things we did together. I got pissed, I guess, and lit them up with an old lighter of my Dad's. There."

Sam pushed his glasses up and squinted at the photograph, one of the few left in the album. It was a little girl, big dark eyes, and a smile split across her face that spoke volumes. Al's eyes, he noticed, so full of life and emotion. "That must be Trudy."

"Pretty much the only picture of her, I guess. She was one sweet kid." He grinned, turning the page. "I took that, when we went to Little Italy for some festival. Now, this is my Dad, Sam. We don't look much alike—Trudy took after his side." The man in the studio portrait had a grin like his daughter's and a tilt to his eyes that was definitely Al. "He was a big man, tall and strong like a metal worker. Worked merchant marines, y'know. Told me to stay the hell out of that; if I wanted to go to sea to join the damned Navy and make myself an honest man. Said the merchants were full of thieves and hell raisers, and he was one of them."

"He's a handsome man, Al. Like you, and not really." '•'.- rested his head on Al's shoulder as he gazed at the photos, keeping one arm firmly around the other man's waist, careful not to hold him too tight in deference to his bandaged ribs and the surgery.

"Okay, now this is me. When I entered the orphanage. They take pictures, y'know, so the nuns can tell us apart."

"That's not true."

"No, I guess not, but this is it." Making a face, Al turned the page, halted in mid-motion by Sam's hand.

"You were a cute kid. Little and cute."

"Yuck. Sam!"

"I'm serious. All those curls, and the big eyes. You look innocent, and angry at the same time."

"That about puts the whole thing in a nutshell, Sam. I was angry, because I hated the world, and wanted to run, but didn't know what I could do when I did that. He was one pissed off kid, then. Stayed that way for a while."

"From the look on your face you probably gave them hell from the start." Sam turned the page and found nothing. The rest of the album was empty. "No pictures of your Navy days, none of it?"

"I didn't have time for pictures, Sam. Except maybe that one I had taken right after I married Beth. She insisted."

"I loved that man, Al, like I love you."

"What else is in those boxes? It's been a while since I packed them up."

"Clothes, and some records. I was sort of interrupted by Weeks in the middle of unpacking things."

"Weeks. I don't think that one's going to give up without a fight. There was nothing in the paper, or on the news before I left the hospital. Nada. Maybe he's biding his time until the moment we least expect it. I hope he didn't bother you too much, kid."

"He didn't bother me. I asked him if he wanted coffee or talk. We went 'round and 'round, then..." Shrugging, Sam fell back against the mattress. "Mr. Weeks took his leave. I hate all this, just hate it, but I'm glad we made our decision. Sometimes I wonder, though, if you're really comfortable with having our relationship out in the open like this."

"It wasn't so much that, Sam. No." Glancing over at his friend, he took the hand that was offered, then kissed it once. "People-the public, they live for this kind of stuff. They'll make what we have into something alien, something they don't understand. We know what we have, Sam. We've got this house, and our time together. With this damned thing hanging over us, and the way people might treat you and me..."

"One day at a time. We live year to year, taking the corners and not looking where we're going until we're there."

"I like the idea, Sam." Al grinned at his pacing friend, up and down the floor of the living room at least eight times in the past fifteen minutes. "It's good for us to be apart, even if it's only a few days. Hell, you two can spelunk to your heart's content, and I can catch up on sleep and just relax. Get a few frozen dinners, rent some tapes at the store, and I'm set."

The idea for the jaunt had been Verbena's and Sam had reluctantly agreed, but only after discussing the plan with Al. He'd only been out of the hospital a little more than twenty-four hours, and appeared healthy and capable of taking care of himself, but Sam was still very unsure. "I don't want to leave you like this."

"Sam, the night before the accident you were on the edge; we practically tore each other's head off yelling, until things settled down. Then, Tom." The sobering expression on Sam's face spoke volumes. "Then, I get knocked into a ditch the next morning. A break from each other, where we can just settle back and relax is probably a good idea. I said probably. This doesn't mean I'm exactly thrilled to death about this."

"I'll go shopping, pick up what you need, and come right back." Lips pinched tight, Sam glanced at the kitchen clock from the hall where he stood, making his decision. "It's still early. 'Bena said she wouldn't be here to pick me up until two."

"Sam?"

"I don't want to do this, Al. I just don't."

"You sound like a kid being forced at gunpoint to go to camp. Out in the middle of nowhere, sleeping under the skies, dealing with spiders and stuff, you'll love it." He accepted the gentle kiss from the other man, then settled back into the soft leather of the couch, allowing Sam to tuck the old afghan around him. "That's good, Sam." He reached and stroked his fingertips down one smooth cheek, just grazing the chin before letting his hand fall over his stomach. "You don't have to worry," he said softly. "I'll be just fine. Hell, if I get bored, I'll call Greg. You can take the damned cellular with you, call me to talk every night."

"'Bena says no. No phone, just a touch base call whenever." Running a shaking hand through his hair, Sam turned his back to the couch, sliding down to the floor next to it. "Will I be all right?" he asked, not knowing if the question was directed at Al or himself.

"Sam, you can live for a day or two without me. Just don't make it longer than that." That look again, chin nearly down to the other man's chest, eyes closed, resigned to his fate. "Call 'Bena and have her pick the stuff up at the store. We'll reimburse her." A tiny smile played along the younger man's face, slowly vanquishing the depression. "Knowing our good doctor, she won't mind a bit; she'll understand."

Loaded down with bags from the grocery. Verbena kicked the door for the umpteenth time, then, in total frustration, dumped the bags on the stoop and pushed it open. Not locked. "Hello?" The living room kitchen and dining area were silent and empty. Bedroom door firmly shut, with nary a sound from within.

Grinning ruefully, she grabbed the bags of groceries from the outside and set them on the counter. Just as the last of the frozen supplies were in the freezer there was a step on the floor behind her.

"Sorry." Sam felt the slow blush move up his face as he pulled his robe over his body. The hastily donned running pants, he suddenly noticed, were on backwards. Unless Verbena was less intelligent than he suspected, she'd know in a second what he and Al had been up to. "Uh, I'll be ready in a minute."

"No rush, Sam, " she said quickly, trying very hard to keep the giggle out of her voice. "It'll only take us a couple of hours to drive out to the campsite."

"I was...well, I'm sorry. I did hear you knocking."

"Kicking, actually." Her smooth face was a deadpan, eyes wide. "I was just putting the groceries away. You owe me thirty-five dollars and seventeen cents. Frozen pizza was on sale, and we'll be back in two days. Al won't starve. I've taken the liberty of calling Greg to come over and check on him every so often so he doesn't waste away."

"I don't need a keeper," came the shout from the bedroom. "Or a baby-sitter."

Eyebrows up, Sam relaxed. If 'Bena had noticed anything untoward, she was giving no sign of it in her face or manner. "He's beginning to sound a lot like me," he said, shaking his head.

"Maybe you should dress in something a little more appropriate, Sam." She gave his cheek a quick pinch before wandering into the living room. "I don't think running pants and a robe are adequate for a night in the desert."

When the man returned, he was trailed by Al, thoughtfully puffing on that rare cigar, looking damned pleased with himself. "I think I'll be out in the car, Sam," she said, knowing they'd want to say their goodbyes privately. She accepted the one armed hug Al gave her, returning it with enthusiasm. It was rare at best that the man invited a closeness with her. "I'll take good care of him, Al," she promised.

"You do that." His voice was rough as he pulled away. "And you don't have to hide out in the car. By now you know as much as Sam and I do, and I'm trying hard not to hide it much anymore."

Sam brushed his hand against Al's cheek once, then kissed him, concentrating more on the lips moving beneath his then the bemused expression he was sure Verbena was giving them.

When they parted, Al gave his friend a gentle hug and smiled. "Don't talk to snakes, Sam."

"I won't." Hazel eyes turned to Verbena, twinkling at the grin she returned. "Did you read the paper today?"

"Yup. Nothing special. Should I be looking for something?"

With a sigh of relief Sam and Al exchanged looks. In the older man's mind he was wondering why Weeks had not simply released the story as he'd said or if he was waiting for a better opportunity. Lately, the news was filled with stories of famine, disease, and war, keeping the media busy and less interested in an item about him and Sam—or so he hoped. It wasn't something he wanted to let Verbena in on, and Sam had agreed. The less she knew, the better it would be on her if reporters came calling.

Grabbing his sleeping bag, Sam hefted it and the duffel, and followed Verbena out to her car. Al was leaning on his cane, standing in the doorway watching the two of them transfer things from 'Bena's car to the recently returned Jeep. It was a better vehicle to ride in over the rough terrain they wanted to travel.

"I'll see you both in a couple of days." Al stood by the Jeep as Sam started the engine. "Talk to her, Sam. Give her all of it, and have a good time, okay?"

He sounded very unsure; he hated like hell to be parted from the kid for any amount of time.

"Keep your promise and relax." Sam felt a lump building in his throat, Verbena's hand on his helping him stay resolute. "I'll call tonight, Al."

"I'm holding you to that, Sam." He watched the Jeep back out of the driveway, squinting in the bright sunlight- Personally, it was insanity to be going out into this heat, but that had been part of their decision, as well. Keeping his eyes on the Jeep until it vanished, he sighed, going back into the empty house. He hoped with all his heart that Verbena could help Sam out, to talk him through some of the worst of the Leaps.