WALKING WITH ACHILLES

Chapter 15

Stepping back through the Imaging Chamber door and watching it close, knowing that Sam was alone again with Derek hadn't been an easy thing for Al to do. Not for the first time since Sam had begun leaping, he wished he could be there, physically be there, help him, to watch his back. But he couldn't before and couldn't now. Now, as the door opened to allow him to re-enter the Control Room, Al Calavicci put aside the wishing, focusing instead on doing those things he could do to help Sam. At this moment, that meant heading to the Waiting Room, questions he wanted to ask the Visitor beginning to form in his mind. It didn't surprise him in the least when he rounded the next corner two minutes later to see Verbena Beeks arriving from the opposite direction.

Reaching the two Marines stationed on either side of the Waiting Room door, Al waited for Verbena to reach him. "How is she?" he asked then turned to put his hand on the recognition plate and waited for it to scan his palm. Next he leaned a bit closer and was still until the retinal scanner verified, "Recognition of Admiral Albert Calavicci confirmed." He stepped aside to allow Verbena to be verified for entrance.

"Recognition of Dr. Verbena Beeks confirmed," the computer voice announced. Immediately the Waiting Room door slid open and they entered, the door sliding shut again.

Verbena paused, turning to look at Al. "Now that she's had some rest, she's better," she replied then put a hand on his arm. Glancing at the Visitor, sitting on the side of the bed and watching them, even as the female nurse taking her vital signs softly reassured her, Verbena turned back to Al, saying, "I had Ziggy access Tommie's medical records. Going by what her doctor had prescribed for her, I've given her a mild dose of Lithium, so she's more settled. Al," Verbena's tone took on a firmer aspect as she added, "you're the only man she's seen since she arrived. And I know I don't have to tell you to not yell or get demanding with her." She acknowledged his telling expression with a slight nod. "I know, Al, I know. But right now, Tommie's in a fragile emotional state…"

"I'll wear my best kid gloves," he said softly, his tone light, but not a whit less than understanding as he turned and walked with her to the bed. Glancing at the nurse as she was removing the blood pressure cuff from Tommie's left arm, Al shifted his focus to the Visitor, giving her a warm smile. "Hello, Tommie. My name is Al. I'm in charge here. Dr. Beeks," he glanced at his colleague beside him, "told me you were awake. How are you feeling?" Though the battered young woman now wearing a clean Fermi suit (the first one having been blood-stained upon her arrival in the Waiting Room) looked rested, she was clearly a bit nervous about his proximity.

Tommie's gaze flickered to Verbena, and it was only the psychiatrist's calm assurance, "You can trust him," that enabled her to meet Al's steady dark brown gaze.

The Visitor spoke slowly, taking care not to aggravate the healing splits in her lower lip. "I…hurt…everywhere," Tommie whispered then ever so carefully ran the tip of her tongue over her injured lip. "But I'm okay." Moving slowly, she shifted her position, putting her legs on the bed again and started to lay down. She smiled timidly, nodding when Al asked, "Would you like to sit up?" Verbena, still standing at the foot of the bed, pressed a button, holding it down until the head of the bed had slowly elevated to a more upright inclined position and waited for Tommie to indicate that she was comfortable. "I'm okay," she repeated again then paused, looking up as the nurse patted one of her hands before leaving. Returning her attention to the Observer, Tommie reached up to brush a curl of hair back from her temple. A slight trembling of her hand as she did so was a clear giveaway to the fear and anxiety that was still simmering under the surface.

Al would have preferred to allow the Visitor more time to rest and calm down, but leisure time during a leap was the exception, never the rule. This leap, however, it was even more imperative that the Observer obtain as much information as he could from Tommie. He also didn't allow himself to ponder what Tommie Emerson's life would be like if Sam failed to thwart Derek any further than the thought that chased that wondering away.

'You know good and well that if Sam fails, Tommie will live out the rest of her life right here.'

Dismissing that notion out of hand, Al moved around the bed and drew up the chair, brought in for the nurses who had been sitting with the Visitor, a bit closer and sat down. He examined the questions he wanted to ask Tommie Emerson then chose one and asked it, his tone and expression calm, his voice gentle.

"Tommie," he began, choosing each word carefully. "I know that all of this – finding yourself here with us— added to what happened to you just before you got here…" Al stopped speaking when he saw the fear appear plainly in Tommie's eyes and body language as she turned suddenly to look at the Waiting Room door. Reactively, he started to reach a hand to touch her hand to reassure her, but a slight movement caught his eye and he saw Verbena give a subtle negative shake of her head. Heeding the warning, Al instead said, "You're safe, Tommie. Derek can't get to you in here." His reward was Tommie turning back to face him, her huge blue eyes boring into his as she whispered, "Are you sure?"

This time Al moved to sit on the edge of the chair and reached to take hold of the battered young woman's hands, pressing them gently and looking into her eyes. "I give you my word, Tommie. There is not the smallest chance that your husband has an inkling of where you are. You are safe." He smiled at her, adding, "I promise."

As she watched from her vantage point at the foot of the bed as Al slowly began to win the Visitor's severely damaged trust, Verbena thought back an hour to the conversation that had taken place between she and Tommie. She had warned Al to take it easy with his questioning of Tommie, and was completely confident that he would heed her warning, even if she weren't in the room. Yet for all of her faith and confidence in Al's good judgment, she could not, in good conscience, leave Tommie alone with Al. At the very least and at the most, she had no doubt the young woman would want the support of another woman she could trust to stay with her.

Assured, at least for the moment, that Tommie was willing to trust him, Al continued, finishing the preface of his question. "Tommie, I know this is going to be hard for you," he said clearly and calmly. "But I need for you to tell me what was happening to you before you woke up here." Maintaining his hold of her hands, Al felt the full body tremble that enveloped the Visitor, saw the way her face paled, her breathing increasing a bit at the question. Licking his lips, Al said, his words a shade firmer, "There's nothing to be afraid of here, I promise. But, Tommie…it would really be a big help to us to help us…" He hesitated a moment, searching for the right words to put a positive spin on his thought then finished that thought when that 'right way' came to him. "We're working on a way to make sure that you will be safe when you do go home again. But we really need to know what was happening just before you came here." Ever so lightly, Al squeezed the Visitor's hands, never once breaking his gaze with hers.

Up until the death of her beloved, if stubborn, father, Tommie Emerson had never had any reason to fear any man. It was only afterwards that she became painfully, fearfully acquainted with the ugliness of a man's – her husband's rage from that first time until it had become a terrifying normalcy to be expected on a near daily basis. Then, from one moment to the next, as she had lay where she had fallen from one of Derek's multiple vicious punches to her face, Tommie had found herself here in this large blue room, where she was treated with the utmost kindness and care by the nurses and Dr. Beeks. It was because of all that, especially Dr. Beeks' caring and understanding that Derek's wife was able to push aside that initial reaction to Al's request and try to tell him what he wanted to know. "Okay," Tommie whispered then squeezed her eyes shut, slightly tilting her head a bit as she always did when trying to focus her thoughts.

It only took a moment as the freshness of those terrifying moments defied the Swiss-cheesing effect commonly experienced by Visitors to the Waiting Room, replaying in all their too vivid, too horrific clarity before her mind's eye. There was no preventing her physical reaction as she trembled again, but a part of her heritage, the stubbornness inherited from her father, began to scratch and claw its way out from under the fear which had tried to smother it, dragging along with it the instinctive will to survive. It was those two things that aided Tommie in ignoring the fear and helping to steady her voice as she began to speak.

"Derek went out last night," she began, her voice almost a whisper, "like he does...a lot." Licking her lips, she paused to take a deep if shaky breath, paused again then added, "He…he went to see…her."

Al's pulse quickened at the last word but his voice was calm as he prompted gently, "Who, Tommie? Who did Derek go to see last night?"

It was a dispiriting, shaming hurt that Tommie had learned to accept in her brief and violent marriage. The shame she felt was no less painful as she looked into the Observer's steady dark gaze and said quietly, "His girlfriend." Seeing the sympathy in the dark eyes watching her so patiently, she felt the stubbornness getting a tad stronger as she added, "He… he's had several g..girlfriends since we've been together. He…he tells me they're beautiful…not like me."

Al patently ignored his own sense of outrage at what Tommie Emerson was telling him, choosing instead to try and help maintain her unsteady self-confidence. "But you are beautiful," he told her firmly, giving her hands a tiny subtle shake when she dropped her gaze to the bed. He repeated the movement, a bit more insistently, when she gave a small, mirthless half-laugh and slowly shook her head, murmuring, "Yeah," before she lifted her head to look at him again, adding, "Have you taken a good look at me?"

There were many things Al could have said to deflate the Visitor's self-inflicted derogatory remark, things he'd said, and meant, to the women he'd dated and loved –especially those he had married—throughout his life. However, it was a tried and consistently true old saying that he offered to Tommie. "Hey," he said softly then repeated it more firmly, waiting until her gaze met his again. "This may be as old, or older than me," he told her as the slow warm smile that had captured more female hearts than could be counted over the years spread across his face. He watched the nervous fluttering of Tommie's eyelashes, waiting until he heard her ask what so many other women had asked, "What's that?"

"That beauty is in the eye of the beholder," he said. He jiggled her hand again, stopping her at, "But…look at me."

"I am looking, Tommie," Al told her, looking beyond the ugly dark purple swelling around her blue eyes. "Yes, I see the bruises and cuts, but the outer beauty is only one part of a woman's beauty. A woman's truest beauty though is that which comes from within her." Holding her gaze he added, "And you're strong, too."

Tommie's gaze dropped, fixing again on her hands nestled within Al's hands. "I'm not strong," she began in a resigned whisper.

Al squeezed her hands again gently and when that didn't bring the Visitor's gaze up to his, he reached to put a couple of fingers under her chin and gently lifted her head until their gazes met. "Yes," he told her in a firm yet understanding voice, "you are, Tommie."

It was only a couple of drops of rain in the thirsty desert of Tommie Emerson's spirit, but Al Calavicci was encouraged as he watched them seep into her battered psyche, her expression changing minutely, a vague shading of color returning to her face as her spirit absorbed it. He waited a minute then pressed her again about Derek. He was further encouraged when he noted that the shading of pink didn't fade from her cheeks as she withdrew her hands from his, took a deep breath and resumed telling him what she could about her husband.

During the ensuing couple of hours Al patiently listened to Tommie's frequently halting and plainly anxious, scared explanations and descriptions of her life as Derek Emerson's wife, wisely choosing not to interrupt. When he, and a couple of times, Verbena, did ask questions, each couched their questions with carefully chosen words. As Tommie talked, the Observer and chief psychiatrist could see her body language relaxing as she answered, her voice becoming steadier as her control became incrementally stronger. At last, however, a point finally came when it was clear that Tommie's brief resurgence of confidence was waning. Looking to Verbena, Al took his cue from her, and stood up from the chair and stepped to the side of the bed. Gently he placed a hand on her shoulder, not letting it show in his eyes that he'd felt the mild tremble that swept through her body at what was meant as a show of encouragement. He smiled when Tommie's blue eyes met his gaze.

"I can only imagine how difficult that was for you, Tommie," Al said quietly. "But I promise you that it will…help to start to make things easier…and safer for you when you return home." The small hesitant smile that appeared on the Visitor's face was response enough for him. Giving her shoulder a light pat, Al urged gently, "Rest now," and turned to leave but stopped when he felt a hand touch his arm. Glancing at the Visitor's hand on the sleeve of his jacket, Al looked at Tommie. He didn't say anything immediately, just watched her run the tip of her tongue over her lips before speaking.

Looking up at the older man who in one way reminded her of her father, Tommie hesitated then blurted, "Whatever you do, don't ever tell Derek 'no'. It makes him so angry sometimes I think he could..."

"Kill?" Al spoke the ominous word gently but clearly, never taking his eyes off Tommie's face.

There was no taking back the words she had just said, so Tommie Emerson held a little tighter to the growing bud of confidence inside, answering, " I... I don't know. But the first time I told him 'no', after we were married, he...beat me. Then he said something...odd."

"What did he say?" Al knew by the look in her eyes that she was thinking about something as she said, "He said that people who look down their noses at others sometimes live to regret it." In less time than it took to recall them, he saw again in his mind's eyes the photographs Ziggy had been able to obtain from the coroner's report on Sharon Allegretti Kramer, the sickening pictures of Sharon Kramer's horribly disfigured face when her murderer had sliced off her nose. So she couldn't look down it at Derek, even in death the chilling thought lingered in the Observer's thoughts even as he focused on the terrified young wife now looking up at him. "Is there anything else you remember?" he asked quietly. Al felt his guts tighten when Tommie said, "If you confront him about anything and his shoelaces come untied, don't let him re-tie them."

"Why not?"

"Because he keeps a small switchblade strapped to his right leg just above his ankle." She swallowed then added, "He says it's for protection."

Al nodded as he reached to pat her hand. "Thank you, Tommie," he said then turned and walked away. The Waiting Room doors had just slid open when Al froze in his steps when Tommie called out, her voice still hesitant but decidedly stronger than when he had first come in a little over two hours ago.

"They…they're in his closet…in a little locked box. It's on the shelf under some sweaters."

Al turned where he stood, his eyes going directly to Tommie Emerson's face. "What's in the box? Tell me, Tommie. What's in the little locked box?" Al's concern for his best friend started to rocket when Tommie answered.

"I've never seen inside it," Tommie said slowly. "But he sometimes brags about them…after he beats me. Sometimes he threatens that if I don't do what he says…"

Al interrupted her, his voice quiet, his tone firm. "Tell me what's in the box, Tommie."

The blood chilled in his veins as he watched the Visitor lick her lips before whispering, "That's where he keeps his…trophies."

He just nodded then continued out of the Waiting Room, Verbena close on his heels. In the hallway, once the doors had resealed and far enough away from the Marine guards posted to guard the Waiting Room, he and Verbena stopped as if of one accord and looked at each other. He glanced as his watch, saying, "I'm going to check on Sam."

Verbena nodded. "I'll go back in and talk to Tommie a little more," she told him. Her words ended the conversation between them as each focused on what they needed to do. Neither one had to voice the fact that each had a strong feeling that the estimated timeframe for this leap had been drastically shortened, those feelings having been enhanced by what the Visitor had just told them.

As he headed for the Control Room, Al said aloud, "Ziggy, have the Imaging Chamber brought online. I'll be there in five minutes." As he approached the end of the long hallway and made the right turn he asked, "How's Sam's brainwave activity? What about his vital signs?"

"Shortly after your last contact with Dr. Beckett, his vitals signs and brainwave activity increased somewhat, but they returned to a normal pattern after about thirty minutes."

Al thought back to that last visit and murmured, "Probably about the time he went to see the cops," then quickly asked, "Where's Sam right now?"

Ziggy didn't miss a beat. "At present, Dr. Beckett is performing the Visitor's duties as a member of one of Sparkle & Shine's cleaning teams. According to the business' records for his current date and time, they finished cleaning the first of two houses assigned to that team for that date approximately an hour ago, after which they stopped for lunch."

Making one more turn at the end of this particular hallway, Al glanced up and saw the Control Room door and hastened his steps toward it. "Are they on the way to their second assignment?" he asked as he reached the door into the Control Room. Placing his hand on the electronic palm identification plate affixed to the wall beside the door, he asked, "When are they supposed to arrive at the second location?" The door opened and Al entered briskly, aware of but not pausing to glance at the beehive rate of activity that was always the norm during any leap. Instead, he went straight to the main control panel where Gooshie handed him a charged handlink.

"Admiral," Gooshie called out to get the Observer's attention as he crossed to the ramp leading up to the Imaging Chamber.

Al paused at the base of the ramp, turning to look at the chief programmer. "Yeah, Gooshie, what is it?"

"I thought you should know that, per your orders, we've been monitoring Derek Emerson's life signs." Seeing Al do an about face and return to face him, Gooshie decided not to wait for the demand to come at him. "About an hour ago, Mr. Emerson's brainwave activity increased in intensity…"

"What?" Al exclaimed, his tone sharp. "Why wasn't I notified immediately?"

Gooshie added hurriedly, "It was very brief…"

"How brief?" Al demanded. From the instant this leap had begun, he had learned that any change whatsoever to do with Derek Emerson was ample reason for immediate concern.

Gooshie blinked and licked his lips lightly before saying, "About five minutes, but," he rushed on, "he wasn't anywhere near Dr. Beckett at the time." When the Observer didn't say anything, just kept his gaze pinned on him, Gooshie glanced at the control panel and skimmed his fingers over a series of buttons rapidly. "In fact, by Ziggy's calculations, Dr. Beckett was approximately twenty miles from Derek's location during those few minutes." Gooshie looked at Al again, hoping that the additional information would get the other man's fixed and narrowly considering stare off of him.

"You're positive?" Al demanded.

"Are you questioning my calculations, Admiral Calavicci?" Ziggy asked, her tone miffed.

Al ignored the question, instead turning and continuing into the Imaging Chamber. "Ready," he called out when he was in position and the door was sealed. Within seconds a swirling column of time past sprang up around him. Just about as fast, he heard Gooshie's voice over the intercom in the Imaging Chamber, "We have a lock."

As the white walls of the Imaging Chamber began to fade and a holographic image of his best friend's current location began to come into focus, he heard Ziggy say, "Admiral, Dr. Beckett's brainwave activity and life signs are escalating at an alarming rate." All the Observer could do for the next few seconds was stare, a knot of fear clenched in his stomach as the reason for Ziggy's comments came into gut-wrenching, frightening clarity.