Chapter 9

Deanna Calavicci smiled and glanced to her right. "It all seems very 'multiverse,' doesn't it?" she asked.

Edward St. John the Fifth released a gentle laugh and nodded in agreement. The explanation of the complicated Project histories didn't take her nearly as long as she'd expected it to, partly because she didn't have to explain things in-depth, on a scientific level. Also, the twisted timelines made a lot more sense to Eddie the Actor than she expected them to. In that sense—after a lifetime of performances within his craft—he managed to both grasp and accept without question the seemingly-impossible nature of what she told him.

"I have to admit, though," he confessed after she'd finished, "I wouldn't have believed a word of it, if not for my own dream on the matter. And… and this feeling. Between us. Let's just say it lends soul-deep credibility."

Deanna's smile faded. It had been an ethical dilemma for her, whether or not to make a full disclosure of Project Quantum Leap to an outsider, but she consulted Ziggy on the matter and the supercomputer approved of her decision; for Deanna, then, that counted as "authorized access." After her explanation, she'd pulled out the com bracelet from her purse and said, "Mr. St. John, may I introduce Ziggy," and let the supercomputer take over from there. Full of questions, Eddie and Ziggy fell into a long conversation between themselves while Deanna took a nap.

She awoke when she heard the bathroom door close, and he came to sit beside her on the bed, his thin face bright with wonder and enthusiasm over all that he'd just learned.

"I'm just sorry," he apologized, "that you're getting this particular version of myself. Not the clever government agent, not the brilliant scientist, but a thrice-divorced thespian with a penchant for espressos."

"Don't be. The other two were distant. Cold. Out of touch. You are very much… here."

They intertwined their fingers, and he scooted down on the bed until he lay face to face with her.

"I've put that bracelet, that com device, into the safe. It's unlocked," he reassured her as he nodded towards the small hotel safe across the room, "but I wanted us to have some privacy. Can she hear us from in there?"

Deanna smirked. "I certainly hope not."

The two chuckled and moved closer together, then exchanged a slow, gentle kiss. He sighed and pulled away.

"This is a tired Hollywood trope," he admitted, "the scenario of the older actor with a younger woman. You see, I've always dated within what you might call an 'age-appropriate' spectrum. I've seldom been with anyone more than five years my junior."

"And?"

"And… I'm not sure that I'm entirely comfortable with what this looks like from the outside. To other people."

She gave him a quick and playful kiss on the nose. "To hell with other people."

"Indeed," he murmured. "Deanna, am… am I a part of this now? You've shared with me some very confidential information. You've explained how you're in need of another Observer. Am I 'in' on this operation now?"

Deanna gave a slow shake of her head, her dark hair rasping against the stiff, starched pillowcase. "I can't make that decision for you, Eddie. Look, you deserved to know everything, and what you do with that information is your choice. As long as you don't sell our secrets to a foreign country or something," she added. "In which case, be aware that Ziggy will sic a couple of government agencies on you. She doesn't like to be double-crossed."

Eddie let out a rough laugh. "Oh, there's no danger of that. I doubt that from an industry perspective, I could even pitch it as a movie, or a television show. Nobody would believe it." His amusement faded. "But you do need help, given your father's condition. And yours."

"I don't have a condition," she said, almost too quickly.

"You have a trauma. You've not yet worked through it." He blinked, then reached up with his free hand to stroke the side of her face. "Have you?"

"I don't know what you mean," she replied with a deadpan expression, her eyes half-closed.

"Yes, you do," he whispered. "He hurt you. Steve. That night. When the two of you were alone."

Her body shivered.

"Deanna," he said softly, "you can't live the rest of your life like this. You know that. If you can't work through this situation, the Project won't allow you to continue, will they?"

She closed her eyes in silent acknowledgement.

"Too much is at stake for them to lose you," he continued. "Look, this 'me' may not be connected to higher-ups in the U.S. government or smart enough to come up with another plan to handle this situation, but… you said it yourself. I am here."

"You think you can make me better?" she asked in a strained voice.

Eddie bit his lower lip and thought for a moment. "I don't know. But I do know that you're in a very difficult moment of your life. How much of what you've told me have you discussed with your doctors?"

She looked away. "None of it. And what do they care, anyway?" she said in a defensive tone. "Everything else that got hurt, they've fixed. The whiplash. The lacerations. The contusions. I'm healing. And if I get back on Monday, and Verbeena Beeks tries to keep me out of the Imaging Chamber because she won't clear me, I'll go over her head. Get another psychiatrist through the Navy. Get them to put me back on full duty."

He shook his head. "And then what? Continue to live this life of isolation? Deanna, this is what led you to that mistake of a boyfriend. And you deserve better."

She fell silent. She knew that Eddie spoke the truth. Burying herself in her work, focusing her time away from a healthy social life and stable relationships, had led down the path to her falling under the unhealthy influence of Steve Boyd. During her crying jag, she'd confessed to Eddie that she hadn't let another man so much as hug her since that attack… except for him. With Eddie, she felt comfortable and confident again, even attractive; months of the mental and physical domestic abuse she'd lived through seemed to have erased itself.

"I'm not saying that I'm the ideal man in your life," Eddie said slowly, "but I am here. Will you let me help you? Can I try?"

"Try what?"

Slowly, with a level of tenderness that she had never experienced before, Eddie pulled her close and kissed her again. In the space of a few heartbeats, that sweet kiss became the focused attention of an intense, experienced lover. At first, everything he did began to overwhelm her, and she just lay there, uncertain how to react as her body awakened under his actions, unsure if she wanted to do this…

What? So soon? Her own thoughts mocked her. It's been two months. It's time to take an eraser to that horrible night. Let yourself recover. From everything.

Eddie awoke a hunger that she never knew within her, and after she overcame her initial hesitation, the two of them began to trade their passions back and forth. She felt her resistance slip further away with his every touch, every kiss, and every item of clothing that they removed from one another's bodies and dropped onto the floor.

Eddie proceeded at a steady yet determined pace, and (with an undeniable sense of envy) Deanna could feel his total control as he maneuvered their bodies under the sheet.

"If it all becomes too much," he told her as he positioned himself above her, "just tell me, and I'll stop." He swallowed, then took in a sharp breath and stared into her eyes as he hooked his hands under her shoulder blades. "Ready?"

"I…"

Deanna squeezed her eyes shut, but Eddie didn't move.

"No, no, no. Look at me," he whispered. "Look at me. I'm not Steve, Deanna. And I'm not going to hurt you. Ever. I promise."

"I know…"

He gave her a reassuring kiss. "Good. Then keep your eyes on me. Be in the moment. Be here for me. And let me be here for you."

Finally, she nodded. "Okay," she breathed.

Eddie gave her a small smile, then realigned his body with hers, wrapped his arms around her back, and pulled her shoulders to his as he slid his hips upwards.

To Deanna, sex had always been a clumsy and selfish process, something for her to try and find pleasure in as the man she slept with did his own thing. With Steve, there had been an added, inexplicable animal attraction mingled with a low-grade fear over his unpredictability, which had the unfortunate result of letting her enjoy sexual activities more. He used her, abused her, and all but brainwashed her into thinking that nobody could give her anything better.

But with Eddie…

Deanna arched her neck and wrapped her arms and legs around him, moaning. She wanted to close her eyes with the pleasure of it all, but instead she kept her gaze locked with his dark brown eyes, just as he'd told her. Sixty years of intimate relations, spread across the spectrum of humanity, had gifted Eddie with an undeniable level of skill in bed. He knew, without asking her and by just reading her body language, when to move and when to stay still. He knew what words to say and when to say them, and when to stay silent and to let her speak. Each kiss, each caress, each thrust gave her a new appreciation for the life-skills and talents of the older man that she'd fallen for.

Are you in love? Her brain asked. The answer came quickly enough: Not yet, but I could be.