Road Trip Chapter 8: Day Six Back at Camp, a quantum leap fanfic

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Six - Back at Camp

Daylight filtered through barren winter trees and the glint finally woke Al. He looked over at the recliner and found A.J. sitting there reading a book. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too. Sam's sleeping. Seems you kept him up most of the night."

"Shit. I got to stop doing that."

"Good idea." A.J. put his book down. "I wanted to talk to you before I went into Ft. Wayne to visit Chuck."

Sitting up in bed Al asked, "Can I shower first?"

"No, I'm running late as it is."

Al ran his fingers through his rumpled curly hair. "Come on. Give me half an hour."

"I'm supposed to be in Ft. Wayne in an hour. It's eleven o'clock."

"It can't be."

"Yeah, it can. Apparently you needed to sleep. Sam's taking his turn now." A.J. had to get on with things. "Listen, Al. Chuck has a JAG attorney assigned to him, Commander Roberta Corley. She called me earlier. They're going public with the charges against you today. Now, I know you said you didn't mean it, but I have to be 100 sure." He stopped because he had no desire to ask his friend the question he had to ask.

He didn't like being doubted especially when it came to something as significant as what happened on the pier. "I didn't hit him first. I didn't threaten him physically. I told him we knew about what he was doing to Katie and that it was going to stop. Happy?"

"I had to be sure. Sorry."

Al lay back down, still tired, weary actually. "So go. Leave me alone."

"I had to be sure, Al. You know that. I'm going to face reporters and I want to be able to tell them I just talked to you again and you and everyone else says the same thing. Chuck is a lying son of a bitch."

He didn't want to be angry with A.J., but he was. Lawyers had to ask the same damn questions time and time again even when the answers were always the same. "You tell them if they have any questions about what happened they can talk to me anytime. I'll tell them what they want to know." Staring at A.J. he added, "And I'll answer any of your questions, too."

A.J. stood up. "You can stop with the feeling hurt crap, Al. I have a job to do and it's basically a cakewalk unless you start acting stupid. You are not talking to the press, got it?"

So what if A.J. was right. He had his pride, for what it was worth. "Go tell the fourth estate to fuck itself."

Picking up his briefcase A.J. said, "Now, that I can do." He was almost out the door when he turned back toward his friend. "Al?"

Pride goes before a fall and the Admiral felt his pride tumbling down more steps than were in the Washington Monument. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you spend a little more time resting. You're kind of on edge."

"You think so?" He sat up again and looked at the man who pulled him from hell back in '73. "Thanks, A.J. I know you're the best and I'm counting on you."

"That's what friends do for friends. You got a lot of friends, Al. Try to remember that."

A.J. left him alone and staying in bed. Hiding from everyone appealed to him. God, this was what depression was, wasn't it? Why did it have to hit out here where he couldn't go into hiding? This wasn't his home. He was being held there, not against his will, but it was still like being held prisoner. Too much analyzing. Get up, take a shower. Do something - although what there was to do was beyond him. Doctor's orders only gave him permission to rest.

Deb walked in seconds later. "You slept in. That's good. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I wish everyone would just stop worrying."

"It must be a pain to have us hovering over you. I would like to check the stitches, if that's okay."

Al threw his feet over the side of the bed as Deb took a look at the laceration on his head. "Looks good. I'd say you can get that wet now. Just be careful."

The offer of a real shower was a joyous thing. "A shower? I can take a real shower and wash my hair? Don't tease me."

Laughing at his comment she said, "Enjoy yourself. I'll get your robe and show you to the master bath. Then we get to feed you again."

"I hear it's almost noon."

"You had a difficult night. Sam and I both thought it was better you slept in." She pulled his robe from the closet. The silk fabric was heavy and expensive. "This is so nice. I wish Dave would wear a robe like this. He's got this ratty terry cloth thing that he's had since before we got married. It's awful."

Deb helped him put on the robe. "I have one of those too. It's back at my apartment. This is my 'going out of town' robe."

"Dave doesn't even do that. He takes it with him like Linus holds onto his blanket." She and Al walked through the connecting door into the main house and into a huge bathroom with a Jacuzzi and big walk-in shower. Fresh towels hung on the racks. "If you'd like, you can spend some time in the Jacuzzi. Might feel good."

"I just may take you up on it."

"You want me to lay out some clothes for you?"

She was taking incredible care of him. He was liked the attention, but he kidded, "You looking to become a valet?"

"Hey, enjoy the pampering while you can. It won't last long around here." On her way out she asked, "I'm making some vegetable soup. You want some with lunch?"

"Sounds good." After Deb left him, he locked the door. The Jacuzzi's water jets felt terrific and he took his ever-loving time. An hour later, he came out. His hair was still wet when he walked back into the living room. Sam was watching Jeopardy. "Thought you drowned in there."

He smiled. "Candido Giacuzzi was a genius. We got to get one of those at the project, Sam."

"Where we going to put it?" Sam turned to his buddy.

Al cracked, "My room?" Sam's stared with eyes that got bigger and bigger and Al got nervous. "What's wrong? I'm growing a second head?"

"Your hair is curly."

"You just realizing this?"

He couldn't stop staring. "I never saw it wet before. It's really curly."

Al and Sam had odd conversations on occasion, but this was bizarre. "You pulled me out of a lake. Of course, you've seen my hair wet." Sam looked like he was watching the Titanic go down. "It's hair, Sam and yes, it is really curly. Be grateful yours isn't."

Thelma walked into the room. "What's this all about?"

Sam kept staring. "Al's hair. It's curly. It's all in these little rings. Now I know why you travel with a blow dryer."

Thelma looked longingly at Al's curls. "I wish my hair had some curl to it.

Sam wasn't paying attention to anything but the curliness of Al's hair. He rarely uttered truly stupid words, but he was saying one dumb thing after another. "I never saw hair that curly on a white guy."

Sighing in disbelief Al asked, "You done?"

"I think so."

Like too many people had done in the past, Thelma had to touch the curls on Al's head. "It's really beautiful. You're lucky."

He liked Thelma, liked her a lot, but playing with his hair was just something that made him cringe since he was a little boy. There was a time to say something and then there were times not to. Weird thing, it didn't seem so bad when Thelma touched his hair. For some reason he thought that her touch must be what it was like to have a mother who cared. "Sometimes it's okay, but mostly it's a pain in the neck. I have to put up with cracks from people like your son."

Thelma enjoyed teasing her son. "Oh, just ignore him. We learned to do that years ago."

"You'll have to give me some pointers. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I want pants. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Al came out of the infirmary wearing typical Calavicci garb. The hunter green slacks were matched perfectly by the suede shirt. A silver tie was set off center. "I feel human again. A shower, clean hair." He grabbed his collar. "My suede shirt. I'm back!"

Sam grinned from ear to ear. "Feeling good?"

"Not bad, Sam." He sat across from his buddy. "I hear you've been spending nights sitting up with me." Pausing a second he continued, "And that I haven't been having very good nights."

Too much needed saying, but neither man wanted to get into it so when Thelma called out, "Lunch is ready," they stampeded into the kitchen.

They ate and laughed, ate a little more and then moved on. Al had to get out of the house, time to get some air and throw off more of the "I'm injured" cloak enveloping him. He pulled his overcoat from the hall closet. "I'm going for a walk."

"Want company?"

"Not right now." When he got to the entry he told Sam, "Don't worry. I'm not going to wander off and get lost in the woods."

"Please. That's all I need." Al's hand hit the door and Sam had to say, "Don't stay out too long. It's going to start snowing."

Without turning to face Sam, Al smiled at the parental admonition. "I won't be long." He left the house and walked toward the pier.

Katie heard the door open and came from the kitchen. "Where's Al going?"

"He wanted to take a walk. He walks a lot." Sam patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Sit with me a little." Little sister sat down and Sam put his arm around her. "Have I apologized to you yet?"

"For what?"

"For being too dense to realize what was happening to you. How long was this going on?"

Katie curled up in his arms. "A long time. It started before we were married."

"Why didn't you tell me? We would have been able to get you away from him."

"Oh, Sam, you don't understand at all, do you." His sad eyes looked at her. "You never did. You have no clue what it was like being your little sister. I'm not a genius. I'm good enough at stuff, but when your brother is a genius, there's a lot to live up to and I knew I couldn't. If I got a B on a test, I'd hear, 'your brother never got a B.'"

"From Mom and Dad?"

"From all the teachers. I never played piano like you. I couldn't do anything as well, so when Chuck wanted to get me away from the farm and everyone saying, 'You're Sam's sister' or 'I knew Tom,' I just had to leave. It wasn't much of a life with Chuck, but it was mine."

Sam's heart broke. All of Elk Ridge bragged about him. It never occurred to him that Katie suffered from his notoriety. "Then it's my fault."

"It was my own stupidity. You don't need to take credit for it."

"But I should have paid better attention. I mean Al caught it right away."

"He heard me and Chuck fighting."

"Even before that, he felt something was off about Chuck. I didn't listen to him." He held her even closer. "Katie, I love you so much. You didn't deserve this at all. Please promise me that if you need help with anything that you'll call me right away. Don't let it get out of hand. No one has the right to hurt you."

"Sam, I won't get into another situation like I had with Chuck."

There was a question Sam wanted to ask, but it was hard because he knew the answer he wanted and he was afraid it wouldn't be what he heard. "Do you still love him?"

It had only been a few days. The truth was not what she wanted to say. "Right now, I still do." She started to cry again. "I hate him, Sam, but I don't. What's wrong with me? He's in jail for attempted murder and not just of anyone. No, he picks an astronaut whose been nominated for a Nobel Prize."

His finger tapped the end of her nose. "Yes, but Al didn't win. I did."

Her elbow found his ribs. "But Al should have."

The future was starting to be brighter and he had to tell his baby sister, "Just wait, Katie. In a few years, he'll have his first Noble and I'll have my second."

Katie got excited. "Really? What are you two up to?"

He wanted to tell her. It had been days since he talked about Quantum Leap and he'd almost forgotten how thrilling the concept was, but Katie didn't have clearance. No one did except the Admiral. "Can't tell you. You might be a foreign agent." Big brother kissed little sister. "I got to find Al."

The Admiral found himself down on the camp's pier, the scene of his run in with Chuck. He found the pylon that cracked open his head. Weather hadn't washed the evidence away. Marks where blood actually dripped down the post had oxidized to a reddish brown. He'd bled a lot, a lot more than he thought. Head wounds bleed a lot though. They always used to when he got bashed over the head in Vietnam. His hand unconsciously found the healing. It stung a little, but the lump was a lot smaller. His hand then wiped across his face, a gesture so typical for him that it became part of Star Bright sign language. If Al were coming, the spotter would warn others by mimicking the gesture. He knew about it and let it go. It was kind of funny to him anyhow.

He walked to the end of the pier and stared into the water. It was the edge of winter; weather that never came in Vietnam, but this place, this pier, this water had a feel to it. It was like the months he was caged in the Mekong. Daily he would fall, unable to support himself above the water line, inhaling the murky sludge pretending to be a river. The memory of wanting to die, trying to drown sneered at him saying, "You didn't have the guts, Calavicci."

He wished he had gone to visit the brunette in Delaware instead of getting into all the trouble of the last few days. His ladies seemed to keep his mind from perseverating on the past. Rolling his eyes skyward he thought Gooshie and his bright idea nearly got him killed. A road trip to get to know Sam - an invitation to have every waking and sleeping moment consumed with thoughts of Vietnam. This water that somehow was the Mekong all over again, getting beaten senseless, Chuck wanting him to be sent back to prison, the recollection of getting shot down, the crap from Senator O'Reilly in DC, it was too much. For some reason, he wanted Trudy to be at his side. She was the only one in his life who loved him and never stopped. He told himself he needed to hold her again, but if had been honest, he would admit he was the one who needed to be held. That was weakness though and that was one thing he wouldn't confess to.

Sam approached him slowly, making sure his steps sounded out on the pier. Al's sharp hearing picked up the fact that he had company. He found Sam about 15 feet away. "Wondered when you'd get here."

"You still want to be alone?"

Hoping that a few deep breaths would send Vietnam back into the far recesses of his mind he smiled and told his friend, "No, I don't think so." A nearby bench seemed the logical place for them to sit. "It's been some trip, hasn't it?"

"It's almost half over. I was talking to Katie and I realized I hadn't thought about Quantum Leap for days. I don't believe it, but I don't think we actually talked about it more than five minutes since we left DC."

Thinking back, Al had to agree and sarcastically said, "Yeah, asking for 43 billion for a project that will employ maybe 100 people is a common thing on the hill."

They stared into the water, both with the same posture, leaning back, legs stretched out in front of them and hands in their pockets. "Why do we think we can travel in time?"

"Because the math works, for now."

Sam understood what Al meant and had to laugh. "Glad you didn't say that to the Committee."

"Those lunkheads? They're clueless about your theories. It's amazing math, Sam."

"Do you ever think that by the time we get to implement the theories that they'll be out of date?"

Good question and one Al had often considered. "Possibly, but the computer you're building will have the ability to incorporate current theory. You're not designing it for obsolescence. It's one of the selling points for the fed heads. "

Their last moments with the committee left Sam uncertain. "You still think we got the money, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, we got it."

"I wish I was as sure as you."

"You don't know Washington as well as I do. Janet wanted to get O'Reilly off the committee so we can get our unanimous approval. That's not what I'm worried about though."

Sam felt an extra heartbeat. "Worried?"

"Worry's not the right word. It's been on my mind. You know we've been talking about there being a lot more than three dimensions?" Sam was convinced that there were many more. "Well, I'm thinking that maybe gravity is another dimension and if it is, then that might be the way to get into those dimensions we haven't seen yet."

"Gravity? Why gravity?" His scientific mind started going into overdrive.

The Admiral didn't move. He just kept his eyes on the water and said, "Something has to carry information from one dimension to another and, in string theory, gravity has no mass and no charge, but it does have pull."

"So without mass and being neutral, gravity can move between dimensions without disturbing the string. Gravity as a communication device."

"Your theory sort of predicts the existence of gravitational particles anyhow, but yeah, gravity could be the way we can get into those other dimensions and see what's there."

"Well, the crack on the head didn't screw up your ability to theorize. I'm not sure how we can use the idea in Quantum Leap, but I want to think about it." He paused for a few seconds. "We'd have to be able to control gravitational forces."

"We already do in very primitive ways. At NASA we simulate weightlessness all the time. It was just something on my mind."

Sam was eternally grateful to have someone to talk to about such odd things as neutrinos, leptons and quarks. There were a lot of people working on the theories, but most of them were science geeks who never thought life existed outside a lab. The Admiral could discuss closed string theory and the next second be flirting with some girl in a short skirt. The geeks might possibly do the same, but Al would actually get to go home with her. Sam teased Al constantly about thinking of nothing other than sex, but it was playful and Al enjoyed being the resident dog.

The predicted snow began falling. Al looked into the sky. "Wonder if it's snowing in Tibet? You sure Gooshie is the man we want?'

"He's brilliant, Al. He doesn't even know how brilliant he is. You and I can build Quantum Leap, but he beats both of us at programming."

"I'm not sure, Sam. This road trip of his was a gem of a thought."

"Apples and oranges, but I think he was right. In order to really pursue Quantum Leap, we have to be sure that we'd go to the edge for each other."

"The edge of what?"

"That's the thing. Until we start transporting in the Accelerator Chamber we won't know. I don't want to put my trust in just anyone. I want to know that it's someone who has as much vested in the project as I do and," he had to stop for a moment, "and who is vested in me as a human being. I figured you were the right man even before Gooshie sent us on this voyage, but I've learned a lot over the last few days."

"About me?"

"Both of us, actually."

"Anything I should know about?"

Sam never understood why saying things was so difficult, but he wasn't ready to talk. He understood Al's hesitations a little better now. It was hard to admit things to yourself, let alone to someone else, even if that person was an honest friend. "Probably, but I'm not getting into it. It's not the right time."

That made perfect sense. "Yeah, I know the feeling. Just don't start doing my trick. Stay away from nightmares, Sam. They fuck with your head really bad."

The terror of Vietnam had been over for Al since 1973. Thirteen years later it was resurfacing and screwing with him big time. Sam wanted to tear the demons from Al's spirit, but there was no way for him to do it. "I can see that. I wish I could do something for you."

"What are you talking about? You do a lot." The snow was falling stronger and Al felt a chill through his body, but he wasn't sure if it was winter or memory. "When the dreams have me, Sam, sometimes I think I can't, won't get back on my own. Then somewhere in all that I sort of know I'll be okay if I just hold on."

"That sounds like how you must have existed back then." His breath shuddered.

"God, I hate this fucking trip."

"Me too, but then I don't. If you hadn't come with me, Katie would still be with Chuck. God knows what he would have done to her. Shit, look what he did to you."

Al didn't respond. He gazed into the woods. "Snow is beautiful out here, Sam."

"Winter out here is always beautiful."

It had to be five minutes before Al broke the wintry silence and said, "I hate this trip, but I'm glad we took it. Gooshie was right." He wanted to tell Sam what he felt in his heart, but Al Calavicci didn't say crap like that. It was enough that he admitted, "I know we're ready for this, Sam. No doubt."

The true depth of Al's words wasn't lost on Sam. It was a moment Sam promised he would never forget. He knew he had found another brother, not a replacement for Tom, but an addition to him. Al was blood now and that made Sam more proud than he had been the day he accepted the Noble Prize. "Let's go back inside. This is going to get worse."

"You talking about the weather or the trip?"

Sam roared and slapped Al on the back. "Move, Calavicci. It's snowing." They walked back toward the house feeling pretty good.

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Dinner ended - seemed like all they did was eat. Jason and Tom took care of the dishes while the adults made their way into the living room. Dave had a fire roaring in the fireplace and the drapes were opened onto a snowstorm of Indiana proportions. He looked at his guests and said, "I'm not sure you'll be going anywhere tomorrow, A.J. We're the last road to get plowed in the county."

A.J. stood staring out at the blizzard swirling around the camp. "I got to get into Ft. Wayne tomorrow. Chuck is being transferred to the Great Lakes PCF."

Thelma asked, "What's PCF?"

A.J. told her, "Pretrial Confinement Facility. We'll convene the trial at Great Lakes, too."

Al hated asking, but he had to. "You have the charges worked out?"

"He'll be doing serious time. If we get him on everything, which is not likely, he'll get life. If we get him on everything except the rape charge he could see 33 years and six months. Unfortunately, his abuse of Katie is the harder case and I don't think they'll get him on that. I'm hoping we get 31 years. That has potential."

Al looked at A.J. "With parole how long?"

"I hate this part. Maybe eight, 10 years."

Sam mumbled, "It's not enough."

Thelma stepped in. "No amount of time will be enough, but we have to look at other results here. Katie is safe and Al will heal from his wounds. Personally, I don't want to think about that man any more tonight or ever. I think we need to do something fun."

Al smiled at her, "Like shovel?"

She smiled back and it was a warm wonderful smile. "Dave, you have half a dozen guitars in this house. Go get a few of them and get the boys in here. It's time to sing."

The fire warmed the room and for hours, music rang through the house. Katie had a sweet voice with an attraction to Carly Simon songs. Her rendition of You're So Vain was teasingly sung to her brother who played the role to the hilt.

Everyone in the room took turns with three guitars going from hand to hand to hand. No one was allowed to back down and the songs went from sweet to sentimental, from blues to bawdy. Sam did his Elvis stage show complete with hip-swinging, guitar playing on Blue Suede Shoes.

Thelma was having a fine time. She poured some wine for A.J. who was already a little more than happy. He looked up at her with a huge smile and said, "Thank you, Thelma. If I weren't already married . . ."

She put the wine bottle down and started singing, "You made me love you. I didn't wanna do it. I didn't wanna do it." Everyone started laughing. She kept on, encouraged by the reaction. She was joined by Sam on the guitar. "I want some love that's true. Yes, I do, 'deed I do. You know I do." No one knew if it was the wine or just a side of Thelma they'd never seen before. She sat on A.J.'s lap and lightly patted his balding head while she sang. "Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme what I cry for. You know you've got the brand of kisses that I'd die for. You know you made me love you."

A.J. scooped her up in his arms. "We'll see you all later!"

Comically defending Thelma's honor, Al rose. "Hey, that's Sam's mother!"

Thelma was gently returned to her feet and 12 shades of red blushed over her. She hid her face in her hands laughing all the while. "What got into me?" Sitting back down, she kept repeating, "Oh my, oh my, oh my."

A.J. looked over at Al. "I kind of liked it!" He started waving his arms. "Okay, I got one. Al, you'll remember this. Hand me a guitar." Jason gave his to A.J. who started in, "I took myself down to the Tally Ho Tavern to buy me a bottle of beer." Looking straight at Thelma he sang, "I sat me down by a tender young maiden whose eyes were as soft as her hair and as I was searching from bottle to bottle for something un-foolish to say," His gazed turned to Al, "that silver-tongued devil just slipped from the shadows and smiling he stole her away."

Thelma hid her face again. "I'm so embarrassed." But there was laughter in her voice.

A.J. winked at her. "I said Hey, little girl, don't you know Al's the devil? He's everything that I ain't. Hiding intentions of evil under the smile of a saint."

Al couldn't help but think those words were pretty close to the truth.

A.J. kept on going. "All he's good for is getting in trouble and shifting his share of the blame and some people swear he's my double and some even say we're the same,"

Al retaliated. "The same? In your dreams, Chegwidden!"

"But the silver-tongued devil's got nothing to lose and I'll only live 'till I die. We take our own chances and pay our own dues, the silver-tongued devil and I."

More wine and song kept the night filled with good sounds and memorable moments. Not the least of which was Al doing his best Janis Joplin impression. "Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all drive Porsches. I must make amends."

Jason and Tom were too young to have heard the song before. They wanted to learn it so Tom ran for his tape recorder and the entire group had to suffer through it again much to Al's delight. "Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends. Oh, Lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?"

Deb was laughing so hard she slid off the couch onto the floor. When it came her turn, she came up with a sad song she loved. "Many's the time I've been mistaken and many times confused. Yes, and often felt forsaken and certainly misused. Oh, but I'm alright, I'm alright. I'm just weary to my bones. Still, you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant so far away from home, so far away from home."

The song was familiar to Al, but he was in a VC prison when it came out. He'd heard the words on occasion, but never paid much attention. This night, the words were listened to for truly the first time and it was as if he'd ghost written them.

"I don't know a soul who's not been battered. I don't have a friend who feels at ease. I don't know a dream that's not been shattered or driven to its knees."

His heart started beating faster as he listened to Deb sing

"Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on I wonder what's gone wrong. I can't help but wonder what's gone wrong."

Why hadn't he paid attention to this song before? It sang out the diary of his existence.

"And I dreamed I was dying. I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly and looking back down at me smiled reassuringly. And I dreamed I was flying and high up above my eyes could clearly see the Statue of Liberty sailing away to sea and I dreamed I was flying."

That's what he saw that day. The missile hit and America drifted away. The rush of air through the hole in the fuselage - it was a dream. The parachute floating him toward the ground - that was a dream. It was all a dream. He wanted to shake the song from his head.

Sam had been paying attention to Deb, but out of the corner of his eye he caught a move. Al's right hand clenched and relaxed time and time again. The words were too close to home and Sam didn't realize it until he noticed his friend's reaction. He knew Deb would be done soon and hoped Al could forget it in less time than it took Deb to sing it.

"It's all right. It's all right. You can't be forever blessed. Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day and I'm trying to get some rest. That's all I'm trying to get some rest."

Jason, who had been playing along with his mom, was the first to speak. "That's a cool song, Mom."

"Thanks, sweetie, I always liked it even if it was a little sad." There was a restless calm in the room, an odd sort of feeling that no one could figure out.

Pulling the guitar from Jason, Sam said, "One more!" He started a song from some musical he saw back in the 60s. "Gonna build a mountain from a little hill. Gonna build a mountain, least I hope we will. Gonna build a mountain, gonna build it high. I don't know how we're gonna do it. Only know we're gonna try."

Al smiled at the thought of their daydream. It was an obvious prelude to the next five years of their lives. It felt good and he wanted to feel good again.

"Gonna build a daydream from a little hope. Gonna push that day dream up a mountain slope. Gonna build a daydream, gonna see it through. Gonna build a mountain and a daydream, gonna make them both come true."

If he thought about it, the song was right on the mark. Quantum Leap would require them to build a mountain that would change the landscape of more than the New Mexico desert.

"If we build our mountain with a lot of care and take our daydream up the mountain, heaven will be waiting there." Sam looked directly into Al's eyes. "We'll take our daydream up the mountain and heaven will be waiting there."

Before the applause had a chance to start Al said, "Damn straight it will." The smile he sent to Sam was one of gratitude. It was the song he had to hear.

A.J. and Thelma could tell things needed to close. Both noticed the interchange between her son and the Admiral. Thelma told A.J. with a tilt of her head that she'd take care of things. "Sam and Katie used to love this little song when they were children. Sam, you play, All Through the Night." The guitar began and Thelma finished the night by telling them, "Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee all through the night."

It was the natural close to their evening and all were sent to their rooms. A.J. was offered Sam's bed since he would be staying in the infirmary again. The snow made the walk to the lodge very uninviting so he took them up on it. Thelma made the rounds and everyone was given a mother's blessing. Fifteen minutes later, all retreated into their rooms with happy memories of a wonderful evening.

Al changed into some running shorts and a tee shirt and was in bed before Sam got there. The doctor wanted to check the Admiral's health status. "I'm okay, Sam."

"Can I at least look at the back of your head?" Al turned so Sam was able to inspect the stitches. "Looking good. Once your hair grows back, you won't see the scar."

"Yeah, I figured that." He yawned and sighed. "You were lucky, kid. Growing up like this, I don't even think I can pretend to know what that must have been like. Your mom, your sister, your cousins, it's something else. I'm really glad you had this. You deserved it."

"You should have had this life, too."

"Nah, not me. I would have fucked it up." He took in a big breath. "I got to tell you, breathing deep still hurts. I hope A.J. gets Chuck on the rape charge. I'd like to see that ass bivouacked at the Charleston Brig till he keels over."

"Put it out of your mind for now. Try to get some sleep. I'll be right here."

"I really don't need a sitter, Sam."

It wasn't going to happen. Al would not be allowed to be alone. Sam placated the Admiral by saying, "Tomorrow night you can stay by yourself. Give me one more night."

"Do I have a choice?" Sam shook his head as he turned off the light. "Thought as much." And as the Waltons did for years, Al said, "Goodnight, Samboy."

At two o'clock, Sam was starting to doze off. The infirmary door opened and his mother came in. Very quietly he said, "Hi, Mom. What's up?"

She whispered, "Nothing, dear, but I think you need a good night's sleep yourself. Let me take a few hours."

It was appealing, however there were extenuating circumstances. He didn't want to break a trust, but he wanted someone to help him get through what was happening to his friend. "Mom, Al has some trouble sleeping. He was MIA for a long time and it wasn't easy for him. He gets these nightmares and they're pretty frightening."

"Oh, Sam, I know that. I've heard him the past two nights. You go get some rest." She physically nudged him out the door. Thelma took her place in the chair across the room. She was a mom. Sitting vigil through the night by a sick loved one was something she knew intimately. A half hour later, she could hear Sam snoring in the living room. He sounded like his father and she let a wisp of melancholy float over her. Her surviving son looked so much like his father and now she discovered he sounded like him too. Thoughts flew to past happy times where the entire family was alive and well, where Tom and Sam ran and played together and Katie tugged at her apron strings. However, Al was remembering a different world, one where violence and pain kept him prisoner.

Wrists were tied behind his back all the way up to his elbow. He hanged by the ropes wrapping his arms, feet unable to touch the ground. One shoulder already dislocated. A whip cracked across his back. He flinched, but no sounds. He wasn't going to let them hear his pain. Another stroke cut through his sun-burned skin. Then another and keeping silent got harder, but he didn't make a sound, a small victory, but that's the only kind he had. But the whips kept coming and the strokes got harder. The next battery twisted his body and his other shoulder blew out of the socket. The first whimper he gave them was a monumental failure in his eyes. They won again. They always won. The whimper got louder. The bamboo cane smashed against his ribs made his gasp against broken bones. A second stroke made him cry out. A third one elicited a wail of agony that brought Thelma to his side.

Sam came to the door and saw his mother taking care of things. He knew Al well enough to realize one person right now was enough. He backed out and waited behind the door, listening just in case Thelma needed medical help for his friend.

Without worrying about his bruises, Thelma pulled Al into her arms and held him. He hadn't awakened yet. "Hush, Al. You're home now. You're with us. No one will hurt you." Al's nightmares didn't like letting go of their victim. Just waking up didn't send them back to hell where they belonged. He fought the embrace, but a mother is stronger than a nightmare especially when she is protecting a child and for some reason, this Admiral felt like another son to her. "Let me take the dreams, Al. Let me help."

Coming back to reality he saw what happened and he was even more embarrassed than he ever thought he could be. "I'm sorry, Thelma." He tried to push her away, but she wouldn't hear of it. "Really, I'm fine."

Gently rocking, she eased up on her embrace, but still let him feel the warmth of someone who cared for him. "I know you are. I just want to hold onto you for a minute, okay? You scared me a little and I need to calm down." His psyche was so fragile at that moment, that he believed her. If she needed to hold him, then he would help her out. It was all a sham, though. Thelma wanted Al to find a safe place and nothing should feel safer than being held by a mother, even if she was barely old enough to hold that position. Rapid, worried breaths evened out a bit and she felt his body relax. "That's better. You don't want to make those bruises any worse." She let him lay back in the bed. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Sam said you were MIA for six years and that you've been having bad dreams."

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the kind woman. "Sam talks too much."

Laughing just a little, Thelma had to admit, "Well, sometimes he does. That's true, but I have a feeling you don't talk enough. I can't imagine how terrible it was for you." She put her hand on his shoulder and tenderly touched his sweat soaked tee-shirt. "We have to get you dry clothes." The other side of the room held supplies and she found a hospital gown. "This will do." When she got back to Al's bedside she touched the damp garment and said, "Let me get that off you."

Vulnerability was something the Admiral rarely felt, but he truly felt exposed and helpless. All those years putting up with the torture and the ugliness, all those moments when he prayed someone would hold him, all those years when no one was there - and now this woman, this mom wanted to help. He hated feeling weak, but there was something comforting in letting her be a mom and pretending for a few seconds that someone cared. Trouble was, he was an Admiral, a man in control, a man who commanded and made split second decisions effecting hundreds of lives. He didn't need help taking off a tee-shirt. Anyhow, she wasn't going to see the scars on his back. They were hideous and still visible over ten years after the last whip split his skin. "I can take care of it, Thelma. I'm fine."

Mothers turn a deaf ear when they have a mission and Thelma's mission was to keep Al from getting cold. "I know you're fine." She pulled his shirt up and started working it over his head. "But I'm more stubborn than my son."

"That's saying a lot."

His face was hidden by his shirt, but Thelma smiled at the wisecrack. It showed he was starting to return to some sense of calm. The shirt came off and in the dim light Thelma Beckett saw something she never imagined seeing in her life. Al's body was covered in scars. She almost started crying. Her gentle hand reached out to touch the thickest of the ridges, a remnant that was never going to disappear no matter how much time passed. "You poor boy. Look what they did to you. I'm so sorry."

Pulling back, he didn't want her to touch him. "It's okay."

"Oh, sweetheart, it will never be okay." She began massaging a ridge of angry red tissue. "What happened here?"

He hated people touching his scars. It was one reason he had trouble in his marriages. He didn't tell any of his wives what happened and his relationships fizzled because he wouldn't talk. "It's just a burn, that's all." That was all he was going to offer.

"They burned you?"

The memories were too close and he never told anyone the stories of his time there. "It's okay, Thelma." He took the gown from her hands. "I don't talk about it."

She helped him get the gown on. The massage continued through the cotton gown and he had to admit, it felt good, not so much physically, but his heart felt a tinge of calm that seemed incredibly foreign, but good. "Al, I am so glad you came home alive, so very glad." She shed a tear that fell onto his hand.

A tear for him? He wasn't sure what to do or say. "I wish your son Tom came home instead of me. He had something to come home to." The words escaped, but he was surprised as hell that they did. Somehow, he kept talking. "He's the one who had a life and a family waiting for him. I should have died there, not him."

"What happened to Tom was terrible for all of us, especially Sam. I'm awfully happy you came home and very sad Tom didn't, but those two things have nothing to do with each other. You can't exchange a life for a life, Al. Each person is precious and has his own work to do according to God's plan."

"So God planned for me to come home?"

"I think so."

"Come home to what?" The abandonment of his soul was overpowering his reason. "My mother? She walked out on us. My father died. My sister died because I didn't get to her in time. My wife thought I was dead. If God planned for me to come home then He planned for Beth to desert me. Why would He have me come home to nothing? Isn't that a little cruel?"

"You piloted a spaceship around the moon. You saved your crew's lives. If they had a different pilot, they might have died, all of them. You were there on purpose. They needed you." She continued to softly rub his back, making a point to massage the thickest scars. "Then there's Sam. No one in our family could do for him what you're doing. In a million years, no one else on earth could come near to understanding his dreams and then go about making sure he had the chance to make them come true. God planned for you to be here for Sam." The events of the previous day brought tears to her eyes again. "And Katie. What would she have done without you? We could have lost Katie, too."

None of what she said made sense. All he felt at that moment was the pain of a life lived alone and unwanted. His place in the world was to endure the pain of others and somehow get through it all, but there comes a time when the village sin eater accepts fate and realizes his place as the one who takes on the offenses of those around him so their souls can be pure as his becomes more stained and fetid.

So be it, but instead of standing strong and accepting his destiny as usual, the Admiral started crying, something he hadn't done since 1953 and the aide at the mental hospital coldly told him Trudy died. His fingers curled into fists. His head and arms curled into his body and he closed up against waves of emotional anguish. Thelma held him and rocked slowly while she sang a song Al heard earlier. "Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping. I my loving vigil keeping all through the night." This woman was only 17 years older than he was, but she gave him a special gift. For a few seconds he could pretend he had a mother who loved and cared for him. Her sweet voice continued, "o'er thy spirit gently stealing visions of delight revealing breathes a pure and holy feeling all through the night."

The song was always a favorite of Sam's and from the hallway just outside the infirmary he listened to his mother sing. He would not disrupt the much-needed release of pain and no one better understood the power of a loving parent like Thelma Beckett.

Sam stood by unseen and began to understand why those few days earlier Al could not approach the Wall with him. The immensity of it was more than he could tolerate. For the first time Sam was seeing just how privileged his life truly was. He could look back and find love, care, peace, family, warmth, health and kindness. When Al looked back he found desertion, loneliness, cold, fear, hunger, hurt and evil. There was much each man had to teach the other and it all began with creating trust, being the very best of friends. Sam whispered to the gods, "Thank you, Gooshie. You were right."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you.