Chapter Eight by C. Selene McBain and Kat Freymuth

It was a good experience for both Carlie and Al, to stay at home and get away from stress and unwanted confrontations. Even better for the time to learn each other and bond. Carlie was finally beginning to open up and dare herself to like Al. Al automatically found himself doing the same. It was almost as if they each had something the other needed.

Carlie eventually went back to school, and Al went back to the project. Finally, things were looking brighter for the lonely Admiral. Despite the project still being in the middle of a spectacular mess at work. Confrontations with Sam were nonexistent. Sam would always leave before Al had a chance to approach him. The dance was the same for an entire month. And then things got very strange.

It was late at night. Most of everyone who lived at the project were already in their quarters. The halls were dimly lit and nearly complete. Most of Ziggy was finally put together. Sam was once again gazing at the panel on the office level, working on the touch screen mechanically.

Al had been hard at work in his office when he looked up at the time and decided that getting something to eat wasn't a bad idea, especially since his stomach had been growling at him for the last hour or so. Finishing the report he was reviewing before sending it to the Committee, he rolled out of the office and then down the hallway. Finding Sam standing at the panel Al had worked so hard to repair, he frowned slightly.

"Something wrong?"

Sam ignored him, or didn't hear him. His hands flew across the screen, punching in codes with an almost eerie concentration. He moved files from one side of the screen to another, and constantly tapped the telemail button to an unknown IP address.

"Sam?" Al questioned again. Getting no response, he frowned. "Earth to Sam, are you reading me? Come on, Sam. I at least deserve to get a response or something."

Suddenly, Sam stopped. He was finished with all that he transfered to the unknown IP. He blanked the screen, which was taken over by a psychedelic bubble screen saver. Strangely and eerily, he turned to look at Al. There was a smile on his face that was not his own.

"Al. How are you, Al?" He asked in a sadistically pleasant voice.

Al looked at Sam with questioning, not sure that he liked the look in his eyes. "I'm fine. How are you? You look a little... wigged out there... for a moment."

At that, Sam lowered his gaze a bit. His smile turned into a grin, something reminiscent of sick pleasure in a kill. "How's Carlie?" He asked quietly.

"She's fine," Al replied, getting a certain prickly feeling in the back of his neck that was telling him that something was terribly wrong.

"Teenagers - can be unpredictable," Sam said, stepping closer to Al, "I wouldn't be too sure of that, if I were you."

Al's frown increased as did his anxiety. He knew he and Carlie had come to an agreement and he also now trusted her enough to know that she wouldn't do anything stupid. But the way Sam was looking at him... "What do you know?" he asked with a low voice. That prickly sensation was now on the verge of becoming an anxiety attack.

Sam began to step away from Al, about to leave him in the hall alone. But before he left, he turned and said, "I know - that the desert is a very large place."

Al stared with confusion as Sam walked away. There was a seriously ominous tone to the physicist's words, a tone Al had never heard in his voice before. For the first time in his life, Sam's voice scared the hell out of him. And the words he said... Gritting his teeth, he followed Sam quickly down the hall, searching for the scientist's office before slamming the door open. "What did you do to her?" he demanded bluntly.

Sam spun around quickly, looking confused for a moment, but genuinely afraid and concerned. "What? Al! What are you talking about?" He looked around the office, looking as if he wondered how he got there. Pressing a hand to his head, he looked at Al again.

"I think - I think I've been gone, Al. What day is it?" He asked.

"Don't give me that bullshit Swiss-cheese crap! What have you done to Carlie?"

Sam shook his head, "Carlie? I haven't done anything to her. What's going on? Why am I so disoriented? This isn't right. Something happened. I don't remember how I got to this office."

Al's anger and worry seemed to come to a head. "Damn it, Beckett! If you hurt her... I'll kill you. I swear I will."

At that, Sam approached him, gripping his shoulders and looking into his eyes. He was serious. Dead seriously. "Al. You have to listen to me. Something happened and someone leaped into me. I wasn't here. I don't know for how long. If they mentioned Carlie, then we should find her. You have to listen to me! I would never hurt her. But we have to find her."

Al looked into Sam's eyes... and saw a face he hadn't seen in too long. His best friend was there and that hinky feeling Al had felt for so long around Sam was gone. "She's... she's in the desert somewhere. You... you were... you said that the desert was a very large place." Tears started to form in his eyes.

Sam let his face show his concern. He had been so cold for three years. There was no time to think on his guilt. He had to help and make it up to his friend. He had a feeling that something horrible lay ahead of them.

"It is. We don't have time. Come on." He went on ahead, hoping Al would follow him to his Jeep.

Al swallowed tightly before he proceeded to follow. After all that he and Sam had gone through in the last three years, he wasn't sure what to think anymore. But he did know that there was one thing that never changed with Sam and he was kicking himself mentally for thinking otherwise: Sam Beckett cares about people. He may not show it at times but he cares.

"How are we going to find her?" Al asked, his heart pounding with fear of them being too late. "She could be anywhere out there! She could be hurt or... or..." He didn't want to think of that last possibility. After all, if Al was going to trust Sam this far, going to believe that Sam didn't harm Carlie, that could only mean that Sam had been leaped into and that the leaper could have gone as far as murdering his niece.

"I think I have an idea where she might be," said Sam, getting into the elevator. He held the door open for Al before they began their ascent to the surface, "I can only remember a little from when I was in - their waiting room . . . Something about a crescent."

Al frowned at his words. "A crescent?" he questioned, try to think what that could be. However, his mind could only focus on Carlie and whether or not she was even alive. Don't think that way! he berated himself. She's alive! She has to be! "What if she isn't?" he murmured without realizing it, the fear of losing her clear in his voice.

Knowing him as long as he has, Sam understood what the question meant. He looked at Al, his eyes sincere. "She's alive," he said.

They came to the surface and rushed toward Sam's Jeep. The problem became dreadfully apparent when Al rolled up next to the passenger side of the vehicle. The seat was far too high for a paraplegic to transfer into.

Seeing that it wasn't going to be possible for him to transfer himself into Sam's Jeep, Al really had only two options: have Sam put him in the Jeep for him or follow Sam in his car. Since time wasn't exactly on their side, Al made a decision. "Where are we going? You go ahead of me, I'll follow."

Sam took a breath. "Al. It'll take longer for you to transfer into your car, get your chair in their, and follow me. I hope you'll forgive me for this later," and without waiting for a reply, he scooped Al up in his arms, despite protests, and plopped him in the passenger seat.

Indignant but forgiving, especially since he couldn't help but admit that Sam was right, Al exhaled. "Well, don't forget the chair. There is no way in hell I'm spending the entire time in this contraption of yours." He didn't have to worry too much about that. Sam had already put the chair in the back before Al had even finished his complaint. It wasn't long before they were on the road.

Al's eyes scanned the desert as they drove, desperately looking for a sign, any sign, of Carlie. What he saw, though, was making him nervous to say the least. And his breathing and mutterings only reflected that nervousness. "Where is she? Where is she?" he kept repeating in a low tone.

"Crescent," Sam said to himself, thinking, "What does that mean? Does that mean anything to you?"

Sam's words broke through Al's mini-mantra, making him focus on the word, repeating it under his breath until...

"Oh, God, no," he whispered. "The ridge. There's a crescent shaped gap in the floor on the ridge big enough that someone could easily fall into it if they aren't looking. It goes several feet deep."

Sam's breathing became shallow from the severe anxiety he suddenly felt. He drove on towards that place - the ridge. A ravine that was nearly 100 feet deep. If Carlie was thrown down that, there was little to no chance that she would be alive. But that was something he dare not speak yet.

There was a chance.

The Jeep skidded to a halt just before the familiar ravine, dust billowing behind them and up into the starlit sky. "I'll go look," he said.

"Not without me, you're not," Al told him bluntly, turning around to retrieve his chair. When Sam began to protest, Al turned and gave him a glare that would make the President of the United States twitch. "She's my niece, Beckett. I'm not going to just sit idly in this damned car and wait."

There was hardly time to argue. While he got the wheelchair out for Al, and set it next to the passenger side, he said, "Do you really think you'll be able to get around in this terrain?"

"I was able to get around in that complex with all that debris lying in the way, wasn't I?"

Without a second thought, Sam transfered Al into the chair, give Al the chance to adjust himself while Sam went ahead. The taller man called out Carlie's name, hoping to hear an answer. He walked along the edge of the ravine, carrying the flashlight he'd gotten from the back of the Jeep. He looked down the edge, hoping to see a glimpse of the girl.

Al followed as quickly as he could and then locked the wheelchair in place as he leaned forward to look down the ravine. But when he didn't hear Carlie answering to Sam's call, his fears grew. The ravine was practically pitch black, with Sam's flashlight being the only light to see by. That alone would make it nearly impossible to even see your own hand in front of your eyes.

But even as Al was about to open his mouth to assist in Sam's calling for Carlie, a realization came to him. If the leaper had thrown Carlie into that ravine and she was alive - Al prayed harder than he could remember that Carlie was alive - she'd be hurt and she'd be frightened, especially of Sam, since to her it would have been Sam who had put her in the position she found herself.

"Sam..." Al called out to him, silencing him. "I'll call for her, you look."

Sam looked back at Al, and nodded. While Al began to call, Sam would flash the light down. Eventually, they arrived to the deepest part of the ravine. Upon calling her name, hope filled their hearts when a small cough answered.

"Al?" echoed a girl's voice from below.

Al exhaled with relief at the sound of the frightened voice. At least a voice meant she was alive. "Honey, I'm right here! We're going to get you out. Where are you, baby?" He knew Carlie hated being called baby but he couldn't help it. All he could think of was that he needed to find her and get her out of this situation. "Talk to me, honey."

"I'm here!" she called back. Sam rushed to Al's side and shined the flashlight down. There, 20 feet below them on a ledge that jutted out from the rock face, was Carlie. Her leg was twisted at an odd angle, but without a closer look, there was no telling how hurt she was.

The girl was strong and had taken beatings from her father. She had learned not to cry so easily. But facing death as she almost did proved to much. She looked up at the light and sobbed, "Get me out! Please, hurry!"

"I will, honey! I will!" Al called down to her before turning to Sam. "I saw a rope in that Jeep of yours. Pull that thing up and get me down to her." When Sam started to protest, Al gave him a hard look. "One of us has to go down there to get her. Who do you think she's going to trust? Me or the man she thinks put her in that situation in the first place?"

There was a time and place for discussion and that moment wasn't it. Sam said nothing as he ran back to his Jeep and pulled out the rope that Al had indicated. He hurried back to Al, rope in hand, and handed one end of it to the Admiral.

"Al?" Sam began timidly, tearfully, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Al asked as he tied the rope around his chest, giving enough slack to make it comfortable but not too much for him to slip out of it.

Sam shook his head, "Everything. Never mind. Just get her out of there." He held the other end of rope, tying it to his waist and proceeded to anchor himself to the ground.

"Make sure that rope is secured to your Jeep," Al told him as he lowered himself from his wheelchair to the ground. "It wouldn't do if we both go over the edge. And you have to remember that you'll be bringing two of us up and I can't exactly use my legs to help you out. It's all up to you to get us up out of there." Forcing his legs over the side of the ledge, he looked up at the man he was trusting with his and Carlie's lives. "Ready?"

"As ready as I can," Sam replied. At that, he slowly eased his friend over the sandy rock edge of the ravine. He skidded slightly, but forced his anchor again.

Carlie watched from below, her vision blurred with tears. She was cold, and in pain, and horribly scared. She didn't even know if the ledge she had fortunately landed on was going to hold much longer.

Al felt his way down the rocky surface to the girl, talking the entire time, reassuring her of his presence as he descended. Feeling the ledge just below him, he shouted up, "Okay, stop there!" and used what little leeway he had to pull himself onto the ledge, his back against the rock face.

"Hey, sweetie," he said in a calming voice. "This is what we're going to do. I'm going to put this rope around you and then I want you to hold on tightly to it and let my friend up there pull you up. You just keep your eyes closed until you hear my voice beside you. Okay?"

"Al," she choked, "Al, my leg . . . I can't move it. It'll hurt. I think it's broken." She blindly reached for his hand, clenching her teeth against the pain, "Oh, god, it hurts."

Al gripped her hand tightly and found her hair. "I know, honey. I know. And I wish I could do something about that right now. We've got to get you someplace safe first." Reaching down, he carefully gets the rope off of himself. "I'm gonna put this rope around you, honey. I need you to be brave for just a little longer. I'll be right behind you. I promise."

Carlie swallowed. She was so tired and the pain in her leg, while it had numbed over time, was starting to sting and shoot white hot up her body. As best as she could, she tried to ignore it. The moment they began to be lifted from the ledge, she screamed from the pain and pressed herself against her uncle.

Holding Carlie tightly against him with one arm, his free hand making sure that they didn't hit any protrusions, Al murmured gently to her. "It's okay, honey. Everything's going to be okay." Feeling her tears seep into his shirt, he tightened his grip on her even as the ledge came upon them.

Sam was sweating by the time he got them over the edge. Once he knew they were safe on the surface, he rushed over to Carlie. She was barely able to concentrate, the source of her pain being obvious. The bottom portion of her right leg had suffered a severe compound fracture. Sam told Al as much.

"We have to get her back to the infirmary," he said, "At the project."

Al nodded in agreement, holding Carlie close to him as she cried. After a moment, he shushed her gently, encouraging her to look at him despite the pain. "Honey, my friend is going to pick you up and put you in his Jeep so that we can get your leg fixed up," he told her gently. He saw the growing panicked look in her eyes. "It's okay. I'm going to be right there just as soon as I can."

Swallowing her pain, Carlie was transfered to the Jeep. Along side her came Al, and Sam was able to take them both back to Project Quantum Leap's infirmary.

Once there, Sam took care of Carlie's leg, setting it as best as he could. She had passed out from a dose of morphine and Sam was able to clean off most of the dirt from her face.

After all was said and done, Carlie was put into a bed and let alone to rest. Sam sank into a chair outside her room, next to Al.

"It's - almost surreal. Everything that's happened. It was too fast. Too sudden and strange, and horrifying to be real. Al, I'm so sorry for any pain you endured while I was gone," he stopped and thought a moment before hanging his head, "And even while I was still here."

Al was truly amazed how calmly Carlie was taking the situation, given who it was who was tending to her broken leg. But then again, she had to have been in a lot of pain and in shock of the whole situation. Heck, he was barely able to even leave her side, her not wanting him to leave her for even an instant. He was only thankful that she was fitfully asleep, thanks to a shot of morphine, when Sam finally sat down beside him.

"Hey, you weren't the one who hurt Carlie and she's going to recover just fine. That's all that matters right now," Al told him plainly.

"I'm worried about that leg," Sam said, "But she'll live, yes. Thank god."

"The leg's going to be okay, right?" Al questioned, hearing Sam's concern.

"It's a bad break," he finally relented, "I could only do so much. In the morning, we can transfer her to the hospital in the city. I'm not sure, but - she may lose it."

Al closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. "Great," he muttered sarcastically before exhaling roughly. "Will anything ever be normal again?"

At that, Sam took a moment to think. That gentle tenor voice finally spoke up softly when he looked up at his friend, "It can be."

Al looked over to him, looking at him with exhausted eyes, a look that said that a heavy weight was on his shoulders, one that had been there for far too long. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Sam swallowed and nodded, "I think so." But he said nothing else. He indicated the door next to them and said, "You should go in and see her."

"She's asleep," Al said gently. "She needs her rest."

The good doctor, to the seventh power, nodded and felt like a child in front of his older friend. His heart, which beat against his chest like a drum, felt heavy and sad and cried out. He didn't hesitate then, to take Al into a very strong hug.

Startled for only a moment, Al exhaled silently before reciprocating the hug. He never was one to reveal his emotions easily. Sam always was. And in that hug, Sam said everything that he needed to say. In his own way, Al said everything that he needed to say to Sam with his own hug back. After a long moment, Al pulled away from Sam, swallowing down his emotions. "Think... think I could take up residence in there for the night? Just until we get her safely into the city?"

With a slight and sad smile, Sam nodded and said, "Of course."

Al returned the smile and started for the door behind which his niece lay. But before he went through the door, he looked over his shoulder to the man who had, in Al's opinion, saved the most precious thing in Al's life. "Thanks, kid."