This story deals with child sexual abuse, a topic that is a great concern of mine. This story, like Street Kid, is based on actual events and real people. As the proverbial "they" used to say, "The names have been changed to protect the innocent." There is one scene of moderately graphic abuse late in the story and for that reason, Macy is rated M.

I thank the owners of Quantum Leap for allowing me to use their possessions in my stories.

Macy - Chapter Seven

Macy was asleep in her bed with copy of The Velveteen Rabbit still in her hands. Al watched the child sleep and then decided to wake her. He had said he would come back any time of the day or night. Sitting on the floor next to her bed, he began to sing, "You're my best girl and nothing you do is wrong. I'm proud you belong to me." Macy's eyes fluttered open and a smile grew. Al smiled back and kept on singing, "And if a day is rough for me, having you there's enough for me. And if someday another girl comes along it won't take her long to see that I'll still be found just hanging around my best girl."

The smile stayed on her face. "Really?"

"Sure thing. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I fell asleep and lost track of the time. Will you forgive me?"

She looked deep into his eyes. "You're my only friend."

Al wanted to pick her up and console her. That not being an option he said, "Let's go into the front room. No one will hear us there."

Macy climbed out of bed still holding her book and snuck quietly with Al to the front room. They sat down. Al's burned hand was shaking where he held it inside his shirt. Macy looked at him as she asked, "Does it hurt much?"

Never lie to kids. It was the only instinct Al had for children, but he couldn't admit the depth of the pain even to himself. "Yeah, well, it hurts, but it's going to be fine." He pointed to the book. "I see your father brought you the book I asked him to get."

"He's not my father."

"You're right. Your real father will be home very soon, but you know, the man who looks like your father, he's a real nice guy."

"I suppose. Why did you want me to have this book?"

He took a deep breath. "Have you tried reading it?"

She looked up at Al with a child's gaze. It was amazing how she had two completely different faces, one totally childlike and the other, sad and distant. "It's a little hard."

"Can you read it to me?" Macy opened the book to the first page.

The front room was not very splendid. In fact, it housed the family's food freezer and some general clutter. There wasn't anything really interesting there except for a charming, if completely bizarre, scene. Admiral Alberto Michelangelo Calavicci, former astronaut, hologram and time traveler was sitting on the floor next to almost five year old Macy Haller reading one of the most charming tales of childlike love. Their quiet time together was filled with gentleness and deep caring and a tale of a stuffed toy rabbit.

They didn't hear Sam's quiet steps and Sam made sure he didn't interrupt the pair. Macy held the book as Al read aloud. His dark, smoky voice had a soothing quality to it. "Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real, shabbiness doesn't matter."

Al had to stop and take a few deep breaths. He wasn't well. Sam could see him struggle to stay in control of his weakening body. Macy looked at her Sebastian. "Are you Real now? I mean I love you. And even else if no one can see you, I know you're Real."

With a softness and tenderness he usually reserved only for his daughters, Al said, "I will always be Real. Even if I go away and never see you again. I'm Real and I love you, too."

"But the Boy could hold the Rabbit. I can't touch you at all."

Sam tried to figure out how Al was going to worm out of this one. With the ease of a practiced parent Al said, "Can you touch sunlight?"

Macy understood Al's question and in wonderment and awe whispered, "No, I can't touch sunlight." Her eyes grew ten times in size and the child was reborn in her soul. "You're Real, Sebastian. You'll always be Real." She reached out to hug Al, but her little arms ended up wrapping around herself. The action made all three people laugh and Sam was discovered in the background.

Knowing that Macy didn't completely trust Sam, Al spoke first, "My old friend, Luke. Good to see you, buddy. We were just reading."

"So I heard. What a wonderful story. I don't ever remember hearing it before."

Al was still wistful and a memory of his own childhood came back to him, "It was one of Trudy's favorites. I used to read it to her all the time."

Macy was curious, "Who's Trudy?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat that always came with memories of the first special girl in his life, Al told Macy, "Trudy was my sister. She was so beautiful."

"Where is she now?"

Never lie to kids. He really believed that and he followed through with it despite the new pain it added to his fever and burned hand, "She's dead. She died a long time ago." It was a long time ago, but in Macy's timeline, it had only been four years. Trudy died the year Macy was born."

She saw the hurt in Al's bloodshot eyes. "She was Real too, wasn't she?"

For the first time in years, Al smiled at recollections of his mentally retarded sister. "Yeah, she was Real and she'll never go away from me, ever."

Macy stood up and bounced up and down, "Me either! Me either! I'll never go away from you. I promise!"

Sam took her hands in his and took up the cry, "Me either!" After a few bounces, they both fell in a pile on the floor next to Al and laughed. It was a sight that made all of them laugh harder and a moment that all three purposefully etched into their memories. Not a one of them wanted to forget what being Real truly meant. Hologram or three dimensional, the only reality worth consideration was love.

With the three of them still on the floor, Al took a slow trembling breath. "Macy, it's time for you to go back to bed. I'll be here in the morning. I'm not going to leave your apartment tonight like I did earlier, so I'll be here. I promise you."

"We didn't finish reading the story."

"We will, but not now. Go back to bed."

The child planted a kiss in the air next to Al's face. The action made Sam grin with delight. It was so open and free. Then she planted a kiss on Sam's face. "Goodnight." She danced out of the room and left the men to their business.

Sam looked at the door. "You know, she's finally looking like a child again. What is this magic you have, Calavicci? I am very impressed."

Al couldn't tell if Sam was being snide or sincere so he chose not to react with anything more than a shrug. "She's a terrific little kid."

"You really have talent with children. I'm serious." Talking about kids wasn't helping. Sam tried to change the subject in order to get Al thinking positively. He had to keep Al concentrating on positive things. "Things are looking good for Sorensen, aren't they? What does Ziggy have to say?"

Al pulled the handlink from his pocket and placed it on his lap. He programmed it for Sorensen's odds. "Yeah, he's dropped down to a 32 possibility of willing himself to death, so I guess your work isn't done yet."

Macy decided she didn't want to be left out of the party. She made her way back to the front room and stayed out of sight.

"My work? Without you there, it wouldn't have happened. You know, this leap is more yours than mine. I feel like I'm along for the ride. Sorensen needs you, not me." There was no response and the animation Al had when Macy was present had disappeared. It was as if he gave himself permission to look as bad as he really felt. Sam tried another line of questioning, anything to keep Al awake and alert. "Are you doing okay? How's the hand? I can see it shaking."

With a dark resignation, Al brought out the quivering burned and infected appendage in front of Sam. Any kind of examination was better than none. Sam's stomach knotted up when confronted with the dying hand. "God, Al, that has to hurt like hell."

"Well, I've had worse." It was almost the truth. "It's starting to smell dead. There's gangrene in there somewhere."

Sam looked at Al and Al looked back. Their eyes had a conversation using no words. The love between the two men was genuine, but not a subject for discussion. It wasn't Al's way and Sam would also admit that, while he gave voice to being free with his emotions, some things were just not talked about. They knew they had a stronger bond than even the best of brothers could have and nothing would break it.

A pale, fevered face turned itself to the floor. After taking a few deep breaths, Al quietly said, "So," and he breathed again, "How did the Sox do today?"

Sam turned his face to the floor as well, "They won. Three to nothing."

"Good. I always was a south-sider."

Another silence followed. Neither man daring to look at the other. Al had tried his best to diffuse the seriousness of the situation, but it didn't work. Each time traveler's quick mind and ready tongue were just looking for the right thing to say, the right words to make them get on with things, but it wasn't happening.

Sam had seen tears in Admiral Calavicci's eyes only a few times. He certainly had never seen him cry, that he could remember, but there, on the floor of a nondescript room, in a holographic world, a single silent tear fell from Al's eye, disappearing into thin air, terrifying Sam far more than any scream of pain could. Using his good right hand, he wiped his face in a typical gesture. "Geez, what brought that on? Sorry, Sam, I don't feel too good."

Figuring that getting practical was the best way around his and Al's uncomfortable situation, Sam said, "Yeah, I can tell. What can we do about it?"

With an uncharacteristic sound of defeat Al mumbled, "I don't know, Sam. I just don't know. Gooshie and Lillian are working on it."

It was at times like this that the holes in Sam's memory seeming like gaping open wounds. He knew that he had the knowledge to solve the problems in the Control Room, but right now, he had no idea what to do and the powers beyond the Control Room, the powers that leaped him around, those powers were sitting this one out. There was only solution that seemed viable. "Can't they just break through the door? I mean, it can't be that strong or thick. You pass through it pretty easily."

Al's eyes fought to stay open. "No. You, me, Ziggy, the Imaging Chamber and the Waiting Room, we're all connected. If one part breaks down, I might not be able to get back here for you."

"What if you die? For sure you'll never get back here. Tell them to break in."

"No. Lillian and Gooshie, they'll figure it out. They're good, Sam, real good. Verbena, too. I bet they're all there working on this." He tried shaking his head to help him stay awake, but the dizziness that followed told him it was not his best idea. "How can I be functional when Macy's around and the minute she leaves, I turn into a slug."

"The kid energizes you somehow. Kids can do that, so I've heard. What does Ziggy have to say about Macy? Does she still commit suicide in, what, 23 years?"

A few more punches into the handlink and an answer came through, but it was obviously one that upset Al. "It can't be. Ziggy, you sure about this?"

"What's wrong?"

"Tomorrow she falls off the roof of a frat house down the block, fractures her skull and her two vertebrae in her neck. She dies in three days. God, Sam, we have to stop her from falling. I don't want her to die." Al's agitation was developing into hyperventilation, "Sam, we have to stop it. I don't care if Ziggy says we're not here for her. Something's gone wrong and it's probably my fault. We can't let her die. Sam, help me."

Sam had heard those words before, but when. It wasn't Al that said them. He did. And a flashback reminded him of the moment back in Vietnam when saving Tom. Sam asked Al to help him and by doing so, Al condemned himself to years of hell as a prisoner of war. Now, Al wanted help and Sam wasn't about to let him down. "I'll stay with her tomorrow, all day. I won't let her get near those houses."

"You have to meet with Sorensen. If you don't help him, you won't leap." The handlink slipped from his lap and dropped onto his diseased hand. He shuddered with the shock of pain that shot through the hand, arm and finally into his brain. "No. I'll stay with her. You go finish your leap. That may give us some time to play with." Never sure of how much Sam remembered, Al was ordinarily less open with information about the Project. "Usually we have some free time between your leaps. Sometimes as long as three or four weeks. Most times it's seven, eight days. So, you have to complete your job. That way Lillian and Gooshie will have some time to work on getting me out of this refrigerator. Damn, it's cold in here."

"I wish I had some ideas."

Another silence filled the air. Al accessed the handlink again. "I guess I earned the headache. I'm running at over 103. If I get some sleep, it'll go back down, won't it?"

"Possibly." Through the shirt and jacket, Sam saw Al's hand and arm shaking. "Sleeping may help that seizure stop, too."

Al looked at the twitching. "It's been like that since I woke up. I'd almost forgotten about it. That's nerve damage, huh?"

"It's hard to say for certain. Could be the fever you're fighting." Al had closed his eyes. "I'm going to let you get some sleep. Rest is important. You want me to stay? It's no problem."

Bewildered eyes looked up at Sam. "Why is Ziggy doing this? Why would Ziggy want me dead? That's what this feels like. I know my egress code. I know I input it right. Why is she trying to kill me?"

The idea that Ziggy was out to kill Al hadn't crossed Sam's mind. "Kill you? You're getting paranoid, Al." and before Al could answer him Sam filled in the next line, "I know, how do I think you got to live so long? She's a computer. She can't do anything she's not programmed to do."

"She's programming herself, Sam. It's happened before and she's got an ego bigger than yours and mine together."

Sam grimaced, "That big?" He got the result he wanted, a small laugh from Al. "Good. You had me worried." Al kept the smile, a real smile. "I don't know what to say. Ziggy is still only a computer."

"You're wrong there, pal. Ziggy grew up. She's more than you ever programmed her to be and she'd done a lot of it on her own. I think the only person who'll be able to figure this mess out is Verbena. The way I figure it, Ziggy is nuts."

Now a smile crossed Sam's face. "A computer can't be nuts even if does have an ego bigger than yours and mine together."

"You're wrong, Sam, real wrong." Al's eyes closed. He was defeated and ready to give up, except Al Calavicci never gave up in his life and he wouldn't let it happen now - no matter how much he wanted to just let fever and infection consume him and take him away from the cold Chamber, away from the throbbing pain in his head and body and ease him into death. "I'm not going back to the Imaging Chamber." He curled up on his side, put his good hand under his head and tried to sleep.

Sam didn't have the heart to leave his friend alone, even if he couldn't do anything for him. Maybe just knowing someone was there would give Al some ease of pain. Then it came to him, the one thing Al loved, but that his masculine pride would never admit to, being sung to. It was an odd quirk in a man that was used to all the evils in the world. Sam sat and quietly began their song. "To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go. . . "

Upon hearing the words and music that fed their dreams of time travel, Al gratefully and with a glimmer of hope, fell asleep. Sam soon followed and Macy, who had listened to the entire conversation from just out of the line of sight, walked to her room slowly and with great questions in her head. Who were these men? What was really happening? Where did Sebastian come from and why did the other man call him "Al?" Why was she going to fall off the frat house tomorrow and how did they know?

Back in her room she whispered to herself, "If I fall off the frat house roof, then I can be dead." She started to smile. "Then I can be dead and stay with Sebastian."

HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH

Verbena sat in her office monitoring the Imaging Chamber. It was always hard to figure out what was going on when you only heard one side of a conversation, but it was clear that Al was in the throes of defeat and he considered her skills as a therapist his only hope for survival. Her only question now was how to get a computer lie down on a couch. She made her way out to the Control Room. Lillian and Gooshie were working hard, but the lack of sleep and the total frustration over not being any closer to a solution only made their tempers flare.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it's in the programming, Gooshie. The hardware is in perfect order."

"It's my fault? Is that what you're saying?"

"Look at the monitor. The Admiral is going to die if you don't take care of the programs Ziggy's writing."

Gooshie was beyond reasoning at this point. Verbena intervened. "Gooshie, Lillian, come on now. When did you last get sleep?" Lillian's red eyes and Gooshie's tight lips told her the answer. "Right now, you have to get some rest. The Admiral is asleep. So is Dr. Beckett. There's a small eye in the storm. Take advantage of it."

The look of apology in their genius eyes was childlike and genuine. "Come on, Gooshie. Let's get go take a nap. We can come back in a little while." Gooshie was led off by his associate.

Verbena wandered back into her office. She was grateful she decorated it in something that wasn't Fermi white, like most of the other rooms. It was a warm place that made her comfortable and she hoped it made her clients comfortable as well. Right now, the ambience was going to be lost. Ziggy could care less about the furnishings and Ziggy was the next patient. Verbena sat back and in her mind - the one place inside the Project's wall she figured Ziggy couldn't infiltrate - worked out her plan of attack.

HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH

When Al finally woke up, Macy was sitting with him once again wearing her red dungarees and yellow blouse. It was 9:35. She watched his eyes flutter open and was troubled upon seeing the reddened corneas. "The white part of your eyes match your pants."

He was sweating, but the fever hadn't broken. An unwelcome stench came from his burned hand. Seeing Macy, he painfully shoved his fist into a pocket. He was glad she couldn't smell the dying tissue. "My eyes match my pants?"

"The white part is red. How come?"

"Sometimes blood vessels burst in your eye and make them red. It's not dangerous and it doesn't hurt. I hope you're not scared."

"Maybe just a little, but I won't be for long."

An odd response, but one he thought he understood. Changing the subject he thought he'd bring up the day's agenda. "So, what are you doing today?"

She didn't want to confess overhearing Sebastian/Al and Sam and she sure didn't want her buddy to know she was going to jump off the frat house roof. "I don't know."

"Why don't you make it a quiet day? I want to spend a lot of time with you and I'm kind of tired. I have a little temperature."

"We can finish reading my new book. Then you go back to sleep." She pulled the book from behind her. "Can you read with me?"

He didn't want to alarm Macy with his knowledge of her fall and he liked the idea of staying put. "Sure. Where did we leave off?"

Macy opened the book to the last paragraph Al read to her. She pointed to the next line and Al read, "And then, one day, the Boy was ill. His face grew very flushed, and he talked in his sleep, and his little body was so hot that it burned the little Rabbit when he held him close. Strange people came and went in the nursery, and a light burned all night, and through it all the little Velveteen Rabbit sat guard and never stirred. It was a long weary time, for the Boy was too ill to play, but he knew the Boy needed him." Al stopped reading and closed his eyes. He could feel the fever in his body growing. How much higher could it get?

"Al, are you okay?" Macy knew she had slipped bad when she called him Al instead of Sebastian, but he didn't notice.

He tried to cover his weakness, but he didn't do a very convincing job. "I'm okay. I'm a little bit like the Boy. Maybe I'm too sick to play, too."

Macy closed the book. "You don't have to read any more. We can just sit here." Her face flashed a look of discovery as she chirped, "I know. You can sing me the song you sang me last night. I liked that song."

Al had to think for a few seconds. Then it came back to him; it was from Mame. It was a sweet song that he had sung to Beth. There was a second verse that she used to sing to him. He worked out the gender bending in his head and then he sang, "I'm your best beau." He comically puffed himself up as much as he could for the next line, "I'm handsome and brave and strong. There's nothing we two can't face. If you're with me, whatever comes, we'll see that trouble never comes. And if someday when everything turns out wrong, you're through with the human race, come running to me for I'll always be your best beau."

A sadness covered her sweet child face. "Will you always be my best beau?"

It occurred to Al that "Beau" was an odd word. "Do you know what a beau is?"

"It's a boy that likes a girl."

Not a bad explanation. "Yeah, that's it."

"You didn't answer my question? Will you always be my best beau?"

And like so many times before, Al wanted to hold Macy in his arms and comfort the melancholy child. He wanted to keep her safe and warm. God know that he had enough body heat to spare at the moment. "I will always be your best beau. I promise. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

"Promise me that trouble won't ever come again."

The reference to the song lyric was too specific. "What kind of trouble, Sweetheart?"

She wanted to tell him. Promises were very important things. She didn't want to lie to Sebastian, but she had no choice. With a conscious full of shame and a face as innocent as can be she said, "There's no trouble. I was just wondering."

Another bolt of fever shot through Al and he let out a groan of pain. Dizziness started overtaking him. The room was turning into a twister and he was in the center of it watching everything spin. "Boy, I feel rotten. I'm sorry, Macy."

They both were startled by the sound of the doorbell. With the movements of an automaton, Macy stood up. "That's Uncle Mario. We have to go for a walk."

He had to decide. If he went with Macy and her Uncle, then he'd have to expend energy that he didn't have to spare, but he knew he had to keep an eye on her because of the fall. But he was her uncle. She'd be safe with him. Looking into her suddenly vacant eyes he said, "Sweetheart, I don't want you to leave your Uncle's side, okay? I need some rest, but I'll come find you in an hour, okay?"

There was no reaction, nothing at all. Macy simply left the room. Al looked at the door as she walked out and kept staring at it. Something was abruptly wrong and he couldn't figure it out. His brain was so fried with fever even spelling his name seemed like a monumental task. Exactly how many Cs were in Calavicci? But Sam was finishing up with Sorensen and Macy was safe with her uncle. It was okay to take a bit of a nap. After all, there was nothing he could do.

HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH