Chapter 8

The room service meal never stood a chance.

Deanna Calavicci and Edward St. John the Fifth stacked up their numerous empty plates onto a large oval serving tray, put the metal covers back over the used dishes, and then she held open the hotel room door while he picked up the tray and set it outside the room.

"Now that was definitely worth the wait," Eddie remarked as he stepped back inside.

"I agree." Deanna closed the door behind him and flipped the security bar back over the door. "I thought we'd be missing out, not getting the full Crown Room experience, but that was some good food. I'm stuffed."

His eyebrows went up. "Not too much, I hope?"

She watched as he made his way back across the room, picked up the remote from the dresser, turned off the TV, then set the remote down again.

"What now?" she asked.

"Now, we talk," he replied.

His room had two beds in it instead of one ("they had to give me another room, as the room I'd been initially booked into wasn't ready," he explained earlier), and he sat down on the end of one of the queen-sized beds while she took the other, facing him.

"I have a lot of questions," he began, "and I have the feeling that you hold all the answers to them."

She swallowed, suddenly nervous about how much she should tell Eddie about whatever he wanted to ask her. With Project Quantum Leap as top-secret, she'd already overstepped her bounds by even acknowledging that it existed. Or perhaps he had questions about her mother? She couldn't recall Beth ever mentioning him, so the logical conclusion suggested that their breakup hadn't been an amicable one. Or maybe he wanted to discuss his dream, and how she knew what her dream-self had said to him in the dream…

Eddie cleared his throat. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, locked his hands together in front of him, looked down at the carpet for a moment, then locked his gaze with hers.

"Am I too old for you?" he asked, in all seriousness.

Deanna blinked. Despite their initial magnetism for one another a few hours earlier, that fire had cooled quickly after Deanna's mention of Beth, and neither of them addressed it since then—not during the walk up to his hotel room, not while they selected menu items, and not while they watched TV while waiting for room service.

"Because," Eddie continued, "it has been years—decades—since I've found another woman as attractive as I find you. But there's at least a thirty-year gap in our ages…"

"Closer to forty," she corrected him. "And that doesn't matter to me."

She started to reach towards him, but he pulled away and she did the same.

"No," he said gently. "We have to discuss this."

Deanna nodded.

"It's not only unconventional, but—well, for one thing, any kind of a relationship that we indulged in would inevitably get back to her, would it not?"

She nodded again.

"For myself, that would be uncomfortable at the very least. For you, it—" He paused, then started again. "Deanna, you're a young woman who should be looking forward to so much more than I can offer you. I'm nearing the end of my life. You're in the prime of yours."

"Am I?" she challenged him.

"Yes. And there's so much that I can't give you which another, younger man can. A family, for one. Surely you want to be married? Have children? Be able to spend the rest of your life with someone? My days are numbered."

"And mine aren't?" She pulled back her hair and showed him the deep scar on her neck. "I'm not invincible. For all I know, you might outlive me. And as far as a family goes? I've spent my life learning and preparing for exactly the kind of work that I'm doing now, in the desert. There's no room for a family of my own and never has been."

She flipped her hair forward again and curled her hands into fists, then pushed them into the bed on either side of her.

"Eddie, I've been with younger men, and every time, it was a dead end. Because I couldn't be what they wanted me to be. In school, I spent too much time studying. In the Navy, I've traveled too much. I can't settle down and be the girlfriend that anyone wants me to be. And then with Steve—"

She cut off her words and her entire body began to shiver. He watched as her hands traveled to her neck again.

"Tell me," he whispered. "What did he do to you?"

She shook her head and covered her mouth.

"Is he the reason you're on medical now?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded.

"He hurt you," Eddie said in a soft voice. "Obviously, he's still hurting you. Deanna, you don't have to tell me anything. But if you want to talk, I'll listen." He paused. "Is that why you're here? To get away from him?"

"He's dead," she said in a tight voice.

Eddie nodded. The two of them sat in silence for a long time before Deanna started to speak again.

"We worked together," she told him. "In the desert, at this facility. This top-secret project I told you about, it's all-consuming. There's no time for me to have a private life. Steven Boyd and I were working there for about three years before we finally noticed each other. We started going out, and then we got a place in town together. And then one night, we were in a car accident, and he died." She released a painful laugh. "In between those times, that son of a bitch was an utter—"

She cut off her words. Eddie opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Steve was a drunk," she continued, "like I said before. But I don't even think he was an alcoholic. I think he just liked to hurt himself. And other people. He got off on it." She shivered again and her eyes filled with tears. "That night, he got drunk after work. Again. He made me get in the car, and he drove us along the highway, very fast. Very fast. It's dark in the desert, did you know that? And so quiet."

Her voice took on a choked, tearful tone, and she paused to get herself back under control.

"About ten minutes later, he pulled the car over in the middle of nowhere. He said he wanted to make love under the stars." She shook her head rapidly back and forth. "But… that wasn't what happened."

Eddie remained silent. She kept looking away as she spoke, but Deanna could tell from his stunned expression that he didn't need her to spell it all out for him. And she couldn't bear to say the word, any more than she could let herself think about the worst part of that horrible night.

"On the way back to our place, he drove even faster than before. We went off the road at least three times. It was insane. And then we—" A bitter laugh choked its way out of her throat. "And then we hit a cow. Of all things! A freakin' cow! I had my seatbelt on. He didn't. The car flipped. I was knocked out. When I came to, I… I was staring into his eyes. The pupils were fixed and dilated, the muscles were slack, and the skin was very pale," she explained.

Her voice evened out, and she seemed almost relieved to steer her words onto clinical phrases.

"It was a full decapitation. Just above the clavicle. His body landed outside the vehicle and his head was—" She shivered again. "His head was lodged in between my legs. I grabbed it. Tossed it away. Started screaming. I didn't even know that I was hurt, or how bad it was. How bad it still is."

The tears overflowed her eyes then, and Eddie switched beds and went to sit beside her.

"Did you love him?" he asked.

"No." Tears ran down her cheeks. "No."

"But, 'it's dark in the desert,'" he said, quoting her words. "'And so quiet.'"

"I just didn't want to be alone anymore," she cried as she leaned into him.

He held her close, his chin atop her head, his arms tight around her trembling body.

"I understand," he mumbled. "Trust me. I do."