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 Thirteen – Fight Back/Flight BackRush hour in Chicago is hell and driving from Oak Park to Great Lake Naval Station was an evil trek. They left the Carleton at 7:15 and Sam thought they were going to be at least an hour early. Truth was, they barely made it to the meeting with A.J. on time. The JAG attorney was seated at a table in a small conference room.
Since they were on base, A.J. immediately stood and saluted. Even though not in uniform, Al returned the salute and they all sat. Sam was puzzled. "A.J., isn't that a little formal considering you were a guest at my family's home last week?"
Al answered him, "We're on base right now and most people here don't know that the Captain and I know each other socially. Since we don't want him to get called on disrespect, we play the saluting game. Actually, since I'm not in uniform, it doesn't matter so much anyhow."
The stack of papers about two inches thick was hauled out of A.J.'s briefcase. "I hate to tell you, but this is just the beginning. Zdenek is fighting the court martial and pleading innocent to all charges. He's still saying you attacked him, that it was self-defense. Corley is going through on pressing charges against you."
Between the bad traffic and this crap, Al's short fuse exploded. His clenched fist hit the table making the water glasses clink. "You told me this was going to be easy!"
Even Sam lost his temper. "You saw the medical reports. You have all our statements. How can they do this?"
Explaining the law to the uninitiated was like explaining string theory to a lawyer. "Charges can be brought against anyone at any time. Doesn't mean the charges are valid, but it can be done."
The Admiral seethed, "And it doesn't matter if the charges are dismissed. The news that they were brought in the first place, that's what people will remember. Chuckie wants to destroy my reputation. He doesn't care if the charges don't stick."
A.J. nodded. "That's what I think, too." Thumbing through the papers he found the one he was looking for. "Then there's this. They want to put this into evidence." He didn't want to look at Al when he told them, "Corley found out that you had a probation officer when you were a kid. They're going to try to make a case that you have a lifelong history of aggressive behavior."
Controlling rage indeed had been a lifelong struggle, but he never lashed out against others with that anger. It was always directed at himself. "Now they're resurrecting my childhood?"
"Looks like and if half of what they've pulled up on you is true, you were a bit of a loose cannon. I still believe fully that we will win this case, but it might get ugly for you. I keep saying you aren't boring, but I got to tell you, you weren't boring as a kid, either."
The sins of his childhood were plentiful and many were documented; the chronic running away, the disregard for authority, his notable skill as a pickpocket, the scams pulled on unsuspecting marks. "Does it say anything in there that with all the crap I pulled, I still skipped two grades in school and graduated summa cum laude from high school at 16? Or that I supported myself for two years until I could get into Annapolis? I wasn't a good kid. No doubt, but with everything that happened to me, it's a miracle I lived past 16. You tell Corley to bring it on."
A.J. smiled, "Good. That's what I hoped you'd say."
Outrage and fury were seething inside Sam. "He can't get away with this, A.J."
The voice was quiet, but precise. "There's one thing that could hurt us. Seems they have some record stating that you had sexual relations with a twelve year old girl."
It was Sam's turn. "That's ridiculous! Al would never have sex with a child."
Al knew exactly what A.J. was talking about. "I had sex with a twelve year old, Sam." The statement stopped Sam short. "But there's a catch. I was eleven at the time. It was stupid, but both of us were pretty willing. You do stupid things when you're a kid and no one else in your world gives a damn."
"It would be nice to find her and get her statement to that fact. For some reason the records saw fit to withhold her name."
Al laughed out loud. "We're still friends."
"What's her name? I want to talk to her."
History may have painted the Admiral as a renegade, but he grew up to understand friendship was precious. "It's not your decision. It's hers." The number was dialed and Al's friend answered. They talked about the situation and the appointment was made. No question about it. Hannah had no concerns about telling the story as it really happened.
The silence before A.J.'s next statement told everyone there was something else coming. "They're going to play this all out in the press including the sex thing. You ready for that?"
"How should I get ready for it? It's defamation of character."
"I'm drawing up those papers now. It's going to be added to all the other charges. The whole thing is going to be messier than I thought, but I still know we'll win."
Al's eyes stared into the table. "Yeah, that's nice. We win the case and fuck up who knows how many lives."
Sam understood what Al meant even if A.J. didn't. "I don't think this will hurt the project."
"This might do it, Sam. They won't fund us if they think I'm a sex offender."
A.J. looked from one man to the other. "Do I need to know what you're talking about?"
The Admiral snapped. "You don't have clearance." He looked to the physicist. "We'll talk about this later." The headache behind his eyes got bigger. "What else do you need from me?"
The stack of papers was pushed in front of Al. "I'd like you to read this."
The idea of going through 250 pages of legalese made Al's hair curl even more than usual. "You're joking." A.J.'s expression let Al know there was no humor in the request. "Let Sam read it. He knows more about what happened than I do. After the second or third time that walking sledgehammer whacked me, I was out of it."
Sam picked up the tome. "I'll read it, A.J. I finished the novel I was reading. This will be like going back to school."
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By noon, Sam and Al were onboard the Navy jet, the military equivalent of a corporate liner. The pile of paper from A.J. sat in front of Sam. After an hour or reading, reading and re-rereading, Sam was done. Even his magnificent brain was dumbfounded by the repetition of language. He was very happy he didn't pursue a law degree. It would have driven him crazy.
Al sat at the rear of the plane buried in his thoughts. While dreading having his life opened up again for people to point at, he was more concerned about Quantum Leap. When Sam sat across from him Al opened the conversation by saying, "I hate Gooshie."
Sam agreed. "I've had mixed emotions about him all week myself."
"I guess that's the best way to put it." Looking up he confessed, "I'm not sorry about nailing Chuck. You have to know that, but everything else has been . . ." Words weren't his friends at the moment. "I knew we were friends. This trip didn't do anything in that arena."
A more reflective Sam said, "Did for me. We had a project before. Now we have quest just like in Man of La Mancha."
Despondency spoke. "That impossible dream got destroyed."
"You think they're going to pull funding, don't you."
"Would you fund a sex offender? I sure as hell wouldn't. I hate the bastards."
Sam decided to be honest with the Admiral. "I'm not thrilled that you and Hannah were having sex when you were twelve, but you were as young as she was. It wasn't a matter of an older man overpowering a child, threatening her, making her believe things that weren't true. My gut feeling is that you both loved each other, but you made a bad choice."
"I don't care if that comes back to haunt me. What else is new, but now Hannah is brought into all this. I'm a disaster area. Come near me and have your life fucked up."
"I'm not sure Katie would agree. Or my mom or me, but I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you of that. You won't believe me."
"I keep thinking of Gooshie. He had something in mind here and I'm not sure what it was."
"That goal was achieved, Al. He wanted us to be sure we'd go to the mat for each other. I'm hoping we know that now."
"We knew that before though. Something is missing here, Sam and I don't know what it is. I'm not even sure Gooshie knew. What he wanted us to do, well we did that a long time ago even if we didn't know it, but there's something wrong with the project and I can't figure it out yet." When he shook his head, his brows knitted in pain. "Damn headache."
"You want some aspirin?"
"I guess." Sam left his friend to contemplate the importance of their trip. On the way back to the seat, he grabbed a bottle of water. When Sam returned with aspirin and water in hand he found Al sadly smiling like a man recalling a fond memory of a dead friend. "Take these." Al's palm turned face up in front of him and Sam had to reach out to place the pills in his hand. The bottle of water was downed in seconds.
After a sigh, the Admiral asked, "We're going to be changing people's lives, right?"
It was an obvious question. "That's the plan."
"And the computer is going to be the key to maintaining contact to that other timeline."
"So far, again, that's the plan."
Al held the water bottle out for Sam to take. "Your science is amazing and the idea of being able to use string theory to fold time back on itself and move from one place in a lifetime to another - well, that's incredible, but we're in the same position as the scientists at Alamogordo. They harnessed the atom and it became a weapon of war. That's the issue for us to think about and if we continue, then we have to hire an ethicist. Quantum Leap is not only science." His head still hurt, but discovering the source of his unease made breathing easier. "I knew something wasn't sitting right, that there was a hole we missed."
Sam sat back and his face became serious and doubt danced in his eyes. "You're talking Calavicci. Speak English."
The Admiral flexed his hand in front of him and stared at his fingers moving back and forth. "The problem at Alamogordo was that the Atom bomb didn't have a conscience. Quantum Leap is as powerful as the atomic bomb and we have to make sure, somehow, that it won't get sucked up by the military and turned into a weapon. You have to design fail-safes to keep their noses out of it. We can't have those nozzles using the project for themselves." The computer in his head started processing. "The computer has to be more than a computer. Sam, I think we need to hire an ethicist to work on programming ethics."
The light bulb snapped on in Sam's brain. "I was thinking of giving it a personality, seeing if we could program emotions into it." The boy wonder's mind was doing flip-flops over the potential. "Part of programming a personality can be an ethics component. Your idea about an ethicist is a good one." The idea excited Sam, but it was time to have fun at Al's expense. "With your history, you must have dated at least one woman who wouldn't put up with your hound dog lifestyle. We could call her. She'd be qualified."
Al laughed and told his buddy, "Me date someone with morals? You must be kidding."
"We have to add more power to the computer." Smiling, he told Al, "Maybe we need a nanotechnologist who specializes in miniaturizing computer information retrieval systems."
"I think so, Sam. Even more than that, though, you need a brunette from Delaware."
Both men now had a new problem to solve - programming a computer with emotions and ethics. They enjoyed these kinds of mind games, but Sam wanted Al to relax instead of getting all pulled into the math of the intricate programming. The novel purchased for Al sat on the seat next to the Admiral. "I buy you an expensive book and you don't even try to read it."
He looked over at it and told his buddy, "I will. I've wanted to read it for awhile now. Got great reviews, but I'm in my illiterate mode right now. No novels for awhile."
The Admiral's eyes closed and he looked pale and tired. Sam was a bit nervous about it all. "Listen, when we're done with the committee, I'd like to have you check into Bethesda for a few days. You aren't bouncing back the way I want you too."
His eyes stayed closed. "Me? I bounce good. I just need to have this committee meeting over with and go back home. I like traveling, but enough is enough. Time for some boredom." His hand pushed against the air. With a smile he told Sam, "Go away. Let me have some peace. The flight will be over too soon and then I'm grounded again. I hate being grounded."
He did. Sam was aware of how high the Admiral soared and it was his incredible sense of flight and fancy that helped Sam break out of his conservative kind of geeky lifestyle. Sam certainly had the brain power and vision, but he needed to learn wildness and abandon. He learned from the best, a man whose intellect could understand the science Sam created, but owned a personality formed by hardship, an amazing variety of experiences and a definitely roguish predilection for the bizarre. They were the perfect combination for leading edge science. Quantum Leap would harness these two men biologically for the inner workings of a computer that now would be getting a personality. Sam's mind smiled almost as big as his face.
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The Hotel Monaco had the same suite ready for the travelers. Check-in was instantaneous and they moved toward the elevator. From behind a woman called, "Admiral! Wait a minute."
Sam's eyes rolled. "Already?"
The young woman ran to the pair and threw her arms around Al. "I have been so worried about you." Her pretty face buried itself in his shoulder. "You scared me."
"I'm fine, honey. Everything's okay." Her tears started and Al patted her gently. "Oh, crying isn't necessary. Take a look at me." He pulled her away from the tight grasp she had on him. "See? He didn't kill me."
"But he hurt you. They said so on the news and I saw the magazines."
"Since when do you believe the tripe they print? If whoever is the flavor of the month isn't near death then they don't sell as many magazines." He held onto her hand and backed up to take a look at the young woman. "You get prettier every time I see you."
"You've been saying that for 30 years, Uncle Al."
"And it's always true." He held her hand and presented her to Sam. "Didn't I tell you she was drop dead gorgeous?"
Sam's mouth opened like a guppy's. This was Alex and Al hadn't lied. This was one stunning woman. "Yeah, you did, but I didn't know if you meant it. Oh boy, did you, 'Uncle Al'. ."
Al and Alex both started laughing. "You don't get to call me Uncle Al." The Admiral turned to his charge. "He usually sounds smarter than this. Really."
"I believe you." Alex held out her hand in admiration. "I'm honored to meet you, Dr. Beckett."
Sam took her hand and it felt really good. He couldn't take his eyes from hers and stammering was the best he could do. "You, um, you can call me, uh . . ."
The Admiral started laughing again, "Your name is Sam, remember?"
"Yeah, Sam. I'm I'm Sam."
He looked from one genius to the other. They were tongue-tied teenagers. "Brother, the two smartest people I know and neither of you can make a sound." The younger people blushed. "Haven't you learned anything from me?" It was becoming obvious that three was going to be a crowd. "Sam, ask her if she wants to get a drink with you."
He followed orders. "Would you like to go get a drink?"
Alex blushed even more. The Admiral said, "Now, Alex, you tell him you'd like that."
She followed orders. "I'd like that."
"Now, both of you go into the lounge, get a nice glass of really good Barolo and talk to each other. I'm going upstairs to the suite. Come get me for dinner." Al entered the elevator with the bellman and all the luggage. "See you two later."
Sam and Alex stood there watching their connection disappear. Each one was nervous about looking at the other, but Sam gathered his courage and escorted Alex into the lounge adjacent to the lobby. "So, you've known Al since you were a kid."
"He's my godfather."
"Your godfather? He didn't tell me that."
They sat at a small table near the window and got to know each other better. Science seemed the natural starting point. Alex explained her theories of nano-information retrieval systems and Sam knew Al was right. Alex was perfect for Quantum Leap and that excited sweet Sam even more than the idea of a woman in his life again.
As they chatted Sam was pleased to realize he could be interested a woman, finally. It had only been 15 months since he was left at the altar by Donna Elesee and it was about time another woman was appealing. "Your uncle thinks you might be interested in a little project we're working on."
"He said there was something going on that I might be interested in, but beyond that he was completely close-lipped. When he doesn't want to talk, he's as quiet as any person I ever met."
Alex wanted Sam to fill her in, but he couldn't and wouldn't. He avoided the unspoken question. "That's Al. I guess you've seen him through a lot."
"When I was a little girl, he would come over and it was like having a little kid come to visit. We'd play and run. He bought me a two-wheeler with training wheels for my fifth birthday. It was bright red. I'll never forget it. It was the first time I met Aunt Beth. They had just gotten engaged. I was a flower girl at their wedding."
Sam had heard rumors about Beth, the fabled first love and wife who opted to believe her MIA husband died in Vietnam. After having Al declared dead, she remarried and they never spoke again. It seemed to bring profound sadness to the Admiral any time the memory was resurrected. Sam never brought it up and he carefully steered conversations away from recollections of that lost passion, but this was different. "You're the first person I met who knew Beth."
"Not well, though. They moved to San Diego right after they were married. I cried for days. I didn't want him to go and leave me. We wrote all the time and my folks used to let me call him once a week. We did that for years. I guess I saw him maybe once a year until he went to Vietnam and then he was MIA." She revealed her desolation when she admitted, "I hated the war and I used to protest against it, but when he was shot down, I sent away for an MIA bracelet with his name on it. I didn't know what else to do. I swore I'd wear it every day until the day he got home. Quite honestly, I thought I was going to be wearing it forever. I didn't think he was coming home." It was a difficult memory. "A lot of the people I hung with called the soldiers baby killers and stuff like that. I knew Uncle Al wasn't a baby killer. He used to write me letters. I still have the ones I got from Vietnam."
"My brother was in Vietnam. I kept his letters, too." The sadness of losing Tom came into his eyes and he looked away.
"He died there, didn't he." After Sam nodded Alex said, "I think I know the feeling. I was convinced Uncle Al was dead. My dad cried for days after we got the news he was shot down."
"They were close?"
"They were friends since they were kids in the orphanage. My dad stuttered and the kids would make fun, but Uncle Al would stick up for him and I guess he even had a few fights over it."
The story was pure Al Calavicci, fighting for the underdog while being an underdog himself. "Uncle Al would work with my dad for hours trying to get his speech right. No one else ever tried to do that. It took about two years, but Dad never stuttered again. They were best buddies."
"Sounds like. I know Al has a lot of respect for your dad."
"Dad and Mom both loved him. We used to talk about him all the time. Then when my folks died, I felt like there was no one left alive who cared about me. It was terrible."
"How did they die?"
"Car accident when I was 17. I dropped out of college and was living off some cash left in their estate, working as a waitress. I'm glad I managed to hold onto the apartment though. If I hadn't they wouldn't have found me."
"They?"
"The Navy. They contacted me when Uncle Al got home and Aunt Beth was remarried. They were looking for my parents. I flew out to San Diego so fast and when I saw him, I fell apart."
"He really looked terrible. I saw some photos."
"That's not why I fell apart. He did look terrible, but I was so lonely. I thought my life wasn't worth much, but having him back just was overpowering. He was a miracle for me."
"He does that to people, doesn't he?"
"More than he likes to admit. We actually were able to get him home from the hospital on my 19th birthday. I'll never forget it. That was a big enough gift, but he managed to get me enrolled in school again and set up a trust fund with my parents' savings. At least, that's what he told me he did. Turns out he was feeding his own cash into the fund. I didn't know until the bank called me for some information. He still denies it was him, but there was no way my folks had that kind of money put away for me and the Navy had six years of salary waiting for him."
"That's the second time this week where I heard of him paying for things and not letting people know about it. He's a softie."
Alex laughed and smiled with fondness. "Don't let him hear you say that. He thinks he's tough and in a lot of ways he is, but he's as mushy as they come." She finished her wine and just had to add one more story. "You'll love this. When he got me in school, at Stanford no less, he had an apartment for me off campus. He made the second bedroom into a library. He filled one row of bookshelves with Wonder Woman comics and Nancy Drew mysteries. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved Wonder Woman and Nancy Drew. He remembered that after all he'd been through and made sure all those books were there."
"He bought me a yo-yo the other day."
"Don't you love yo-yos? I have a whole collection. Every year on my birthday, he gives me another one. I have some real classics. My favorite is this psychedelic neon yellow and blue butterfly yo-yo from the 60s. It was the last one he got me before he went MIA." The waiter came by to offer another glass of wine. Alex declined. She told Sam, "Uncle Al would be furious with me if he knew we were talking about him like this. He's a very private person."
"Private? He the most extroverted guy I know."
"Those are two different things, Sam. When he's big and boisterous, he's hiding. All that noise is just a bigger wall."
Sam could see what Alex meant. It was less likely that people would pry if they thought what you saw was what you got. Their conversation stopped and all they could think to do was smile at each other. Sam's eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. It was almost seven; certainly time to get their mutual friend for dinner. After signing for their wine, he escorted Alex up to their suite.
When they arrived upstairs, Sam checked on the Admiral. Al was asleep again and while it didn't look like nightmares, his sleep was restless. "Al? You ready to wake up?"
The Admiral stirred a little and turned to see Sam standing over him. "What time is it?"
"Just past seven. Time for food."
He fumbled to a sitting position. "Again? Alex still here?"
"She's out in the living room. Got any ideas for a restaurant?"
"Yeah. You take Alex out and I'll get room service." He threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "She's something else, isn't she?"
"I want her on Quantum Leap."
The rogue in him was wide-awake. "That the only place you want her?"
Making Sam blush was pretty easy and Al enjoyed watching him turn red. Sam found it less amusing. "Why do you do that to me?"
"Because it's fun." He rolled his head from side to side to work out a tightness in his neck. "Don't feel so picked on. I only pick on people I like."
Sam laughed. "Don't like me so much."
"Too late, kid. You walked into this on your own accord and once you're in, you're caught." His first attempt to stand wasn't successful, but he made it on the second try. "I suppose I should put pants on. She is my goddaughter after all."
"Why have you been keeping her a secret? I like her . . . a lot."
"Why am I not surprised?" He started to the bathroom. "You needed time to be sure Donna was a memory. Now that she is, it was okay for you to meet Alex. And now I can take a shower. I'll be out in twenty minutes."
True to his word, Al joined his young friends twenty minutes later. He was dressed pretty casually. Sam looked disappointed. "I thought you were going to be spending a lot of money on us for dinner tonight, but you're dressed for McDonald's."
"Guess again. I'm staying here. You're going out on my card." He sat on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table.
Alex sat next on her godfather's left. "Uncle Al, I'm not going to do that." She put her head on his shoulder like she had probably done hundreds if not thousands of times before. "I want to spend time with you."
Sam had the solution, "So it's room service for three. I like room service."
He put his arm around the light of his life. "I'm not going to be much company. This meeting tomorrow is on my mind. I'm a little worried."
Sam had forgotten about the meeting. The brief respite had been welcome and now he too joined Al's concern. "Oh yeah, not like there's anything important on our minds."
This was why Al wanted the young couple to have some time to get to know each other. "Right, so you two should go have fun."
Alex stopped him almost mid-sentence. "No. I want to stay with you. We haven't seen each other in months and you almost died on me again. You know, three times is too much for one person to deal with. You got to stop doing these things."
Sam tilted his head, "Three times?"
"Vietnam, the space shuttle disaster and now this."
Al had to correct her. "The shuttle wasn't a disaster. We all got down fine."
His greatest fan objected. "No thanks to NASA. They were lucky to have you onboard to pilot the thing. You promised me you wouldn't get yourself killed."
"I wasn't trying to, you know."
"I'm being selfish. I don't want to be alone and if you're out getting yourself killed, then I have no one again. I lived like that for almost 18 months. It was terrible."
Al held onto this child, this connection to a friend that filled a void in his life when no one wanted to fill a void. "Never again, honey. You'll always have me. I promise."
She snuggled closer knowing that was a promise he couldn't keep. "I don't want to go out for dinner. I want to stay here with you and watch television, something stupid and not sports." Without any warning, she started to cry.
They were together and happy and healthy. Al didn't understand her tears. "What's this all about, Alex? There's nothing to cry about." Then he had a terrible thought, "Is there?"
"No, Uncle Al, I'm fine. My job is fine. Everything is fine."
He tickled her a little. "Including the cats?"
"Otello and Iago are also fine. I just get scared when I hear that you're hurt."
Sam corrected Alex. "You mean Othello."
She looked into her uncle's eyes. "He doesn't go to the opera, does he?"
"He's a peasant." Al shook his head sadly.
"How can you deal with that?"
"It's hard." He leaned toward her ear, but ended up talking into her neck instead. "I hate to tell you this, but he's not Italian. Not everyone is blessed with a Mediterranean heritage, but he's not a bad guy."
Sam was being played like a Stradivarius. "Don't tell me. Alex is Italian?"
"My mother was. From Italy and everything. I grew up bi-lingual."
They spent the next five hours ordering food, making each other laugh, talking about the properties of quarks, and whether Citizen Kane really was the best movie ever made. At least half an hour was spent on who was the better super-hero, Wonder Woman or Superman. When it came time for dessert, the Admiral ordered one of everything just in case they got hungry later again and he liked dessert anyhow. Just a week before Sam and Al spent an enjoyable evening at the Erskine's home laughing and singing, but Al was the misfit, the one who didn't get all the family jokes. This time around, it was Sam who didn't know why fireflies were funny or what they meant by the phrase, "I'm much better now," but he saw how those things made Al and Alex laugh and that was good enough. It was pleasant to see a smile on the Admiral again. The last few days were hard, hell the last few weeks were hard and these brief moments of relaxation and amusement were gaining importance.
It came time for Alex to leave, but Al didn't want her driving back to Delaware that night. "I know you're all grown up, but I can't let you go back tonight. You can stay in my room. I'll sleep on the couch."
Sam understood why Al wanted Alex to stay, but the Admiral needed to have a bed. "I'll stay on the couch. Alex can stay in my room."
She looked at the two men trying to figure out her life for the evening. "Excuse me, but do I have a say so? Seems that the decision should be mine." They looked sheepish. "Right, I decide and I decide that Sam will sleep in his bed, Uncle Al will sleep in his and I get the couch." Her adamancy stopped both men from trying to change her mind. She looked at the Admiral. "Now, all I need are a pair of your jammies and I'll be a happy camper."
"I'll get them for you." He started toward his room. "We have a meeting in the morning, so we'll be up early. You can stay as long as you'd like."
Sam was alone with Alex. "I really can take the couch. I don't mind."
Alex wouldn't hear of it. She was on the couch. "Don't worry, Sam. The couch is great. Anyhow, I would like a little time to talk to Uncle Al alone if you don't mind. I'm hoping he'll have another half hour in him before the night is over."
The evening had been so enjoyable, that Sam didn't even consider he was taking time from Al and the closest thing he had to a child of his own. "Of course. I should have thought of that."
Al came back with a pair of his pajamas. Sam said goodnight and left Alex and his friend to have a little heart to heart. Alex sat back down on the couch. "Come sit next to me." Her godfather followed orders and sat beside her. "I've missed you."
Snuggling close to her he said, "Your folks would be very proud of you. I am."
"If I ask you a question, will be honest with me?"
That kind of question is always hard to answer. For him there was only one answer, "Maybe."
"Uncle Al, I need the truth." She took both his hands. "Are the nightmares back?"
Somehow, Alex always seemed to know. When he got back Vietnam and Beth wasn't there for him, young Alex was. She saw the nightmares from the beginning. The first one came the first night he was back at the bungalow and Alex set up her space in the second bedroom. Al always thought she had a special sense about him. She could tell when he was going to have a bad dream even before he figured it out. "The nights haven't been all that great. Sometimes I dream. Most times I don't."
"I can see it in your eyes. You're unfocused tonight."
"I have a lot on my mind. Things will be better after tomorrow."
"You're still not going to tell me about tomorrow, are you?"
"I would have a week ago. Can't now. Things aren't so sure anymore. If things go right, then we'll do a lot of talking, but if not, it has to remain a secret. Sorry, kid."
Alex's sixth sense was working overtime. "What else is wrong?"
He felt like shit and Chuck's beating hurt worse than he tried to let on. Things weren't right, but he didn't need to think about that. The project was more important. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just still sore from that clown beating on me. Chuck-zilla was a big guy."
"How did you end up in Indiana anyhow?"
"It's not much of a story. There's this programmer Sam wanted me to meet. The three of us had dinner and he suggested we go on a road trip. We had two weeks to kill." He chuckled. "Poor choice of words, anyhow it sounded innocent enough. Who knew it would blow up like this."
"So you did the Kerouac thing."
"You could say that."
"What did you find out about yourself?"
Gooshie's road trip was suggested so they could find out about each other, not themselves. It hadn't occurred to him that he would learn more about his own machinations than Sam's. "Let's see. I found out that I'm not so good a fighter anymore."
"You're 52. Of course, you're not. That one was easy. What else?"
He never thought there was much depth to his character. He was what he was and that was it, so her question was hard to think about let alone answer. "I don't know. Can't think of anything."
"Can I give it a try?" A shrug of his shoulders was the only answer she got. "I think you're beginning to see that you can trust people again. Only took you 11 years."
The "t" word was one Al had trouble with since he was a kid. "I trust you and your Aunt Hannah."
"I know, but I think there's another person joining our little circle."
"You mean Sam."
With a sarcasm learned from her uncle she said, "You were always the quick one."
He pulled her a bit closer wanting this child's love to help him feel safe. "He's a good man. He saved my life."
"I'm glad you have him as a friend, but it's even more than that." He didn't understand what she meant. "I know you, Uncle Al. You keep me in one part of your life and protect me from the others. That's how I knew your marriages weren't going to work out. You never wanted me to be at the weddings. It's like you want me to be a separate thing in your life and I kind of like that. Makes me feel special, like I'm the person you can go to when you need to get away from everything, me or Aunt Hannah. This time around though, you introduced me to Sam. He's part of your other world. You're letting him into our little club. That's trust."
Alex was special for him. She was his child, his confidant, the one who knew most of the ugliness in his life and still she loved him. He didn't want to spoil that perfect relationship. "You're still number one."
"I better be." She looked into his eyes. "I think it's terrific. You must like him a lot to let him meet me. The way I see it, you must trust him as much as you trust me."
"I don't know if I'd go that far."
"Yeah, you do and I'm glad." She had tears again. "I worry about you."
"I'm the grownup. Let me do the worrying."
"Like that will happen." She tenderly kissed his cheek. "You need rest. Go to bed."
"I slept a few hours this afternoon. I'm not that tired. You take my bed. I'll stay out here. God knows I've had worse quarters." The book Sam bought him was on the end table. "I can start reading The Name of the Rose."
"I'm not taking your bed."
He furrowed his thick brows and put on a serious voice. "Yes, you are, young lady." Then he smiled. "Did that sound paternal?"
"Almost."
"I'm not leaving this room, so if you want to sleep here, that's fine with me." He got up from the couch, picked up the book and sat in the big overstuffed chair across the room. "Can you sleep with the light on?"
It was a losing battle. "Okay, okay. I'll take your bed. Goodnight, Uncle Al."
He was alone in the living room. Sam was safely tucked in one bedroom and Alex in the other. This was not a night he could risk a nightmare. Despite the nap earlier in the day, he knew he could fall asleep pretty quickly, but he didn't want any nightmares, not with Sam and Alex both nearby. However, without sleep, he would be a mess at the meeting the following morning. The book was put back down where he got it. He couldn't read so he turned out the lights and lay down on the couch.
Alex told him he was starting to trust people. It scared him to think he could trust. Nearly every sacred trust in his life abandoned him. The idea that Sam could be another loss waiting to happen was frightening. Maybe trusting him wasn't such a good idea. When he bolted from Al's life - and he would -, it would be another void to fill. Maybe, though, Alex was right. Maybe Sam was someone to trust. The argument raged on in his head until he fell asleep believing that there was no one he really could trust. No one at all.
It had been ten months of solitary confinement chained in a dark hooch that he only left for beatings and interrogations. Then Steve showed up. The POW was a Petty Officer, a fellow Navy man. The Lieutenant nearly cried. Not only another human being, but one that spoke English and came from Jersey. They spent days talking about family, friends, the Navy, their careers and the need for hope.
Those long months gave Al time to plan and he finally had someone to talk through it with him. He could recognize each guard by the sound of their walk. He used his brief moments outside the hooch to map the camp. It was possible. Escape was definitely possible and he was going to go for it. Steve was welcome to come along. The plan had an elegant simplicity and Steve agreed that it could work. The Lieutenant believed his two years MIA were going to end and it was even better that a buddy would be getting out with him.
But the people you think you trust can really turn on you. Steve was a parasite latching onto the VC for small favors like food without roaches crawling through it. That night, the guards waited for the Lieutenant to make his break. Steve tagged along behind his fellow prisoner. Al was only ten yards from freedom when half a dozen guards with bayoneted rifles surrounded him and him alone. Steve was behind the guards. His circle of friends protected the turncoat from the rage inside the Lieutenant's heart. It was going to be bad, really bad and he had Steve, that bastard to thank for it. So much for trusting anyone again.
They tossed him into the pit, the deep one. Fifteen feet under the jungle floor he stood in muck and mud, vomit, piss, shit and everything other kind of garbage imaginable. His hands tried to claw their way up the side, but the walls were sludge and all he did was add more dirt to the bottom. At dawn, he was dragged out, chained with his hands tied behind him. They threw him into the river, holding his head under until he couldn't help but breathe in water. His lungs pounded and when they pulled him to shore, he coughed out black sewage.
They staked him out on his stomach, his arms pulled above his head, his legs bound together from below his knees to his ankles. The rope near his knees staked his legs to the ground. They bent his knees attaching a rope from his ankles to the post that held his arms. The soles of his feet faced up. The bamboo came down on the bottom of his feet. Weird thing about getting feet beaten, it doesn't hurt so much at first, but soon even a tap sends lightning through your spine and your brain hammers against your skull and you can't tell where your body is any more. All you feel is massive pain that surrounds every nerve snaking its way through your skin. His feet and legs were beaten for hours until the villains torturing him became tired of the game.
Now came the sport. He was released from his bondage. His legs collapsed under him too many times to count, but that had to stop. No matter how hurt his legs were, he needed to depend on them. They had to be strong. An iron collar was locked around his neck and both wrists chained behind his neck. Each of the dozen guards picked a weapon of choice, bayonets, bamboo cane, studded whips, cattle prods. They made a huge circle. He stood waiting for it to begin. From behind him, he felt the first sting, an electric shock over his spine collapsing him to the jungle floor. He crawled from the pain, but guard pulled him back on his tortured feet. Each step shook him with chills of pain, but he had to keep moving. The bayonet slicing his arm would go too deep if he didn't move on toward the guard with the whip that slashed down across his back. From thug to thug, he ran praying that he would escape the onslaught and still hoping to find the courage to let them kill him.
Tired, weak arms pulled back against the iron collar and he couldn't breathe. It would be easy to die, but he failed in that quest. He didn't have the guts to give up, but he also didn't have the strength to fight any more. Falling one last time, he landed face down. A prod jammed into the base of his skull and discharged its electricity and then again, the shock blew through his ears and eyes and then again, it shrieked splitting his brain into pieces. His wounded heart beat vulgar and fast. It sounded louder in his head than his screams. All he wanted to do was kill the bastard he trusted, the turncoat, but the VC turned him into a nothing who could do no more but cry and beg them to stop, to please stop. Please stop. Please!
The brutal sounds woke Alex and Sam. They found their trusted friend shaking, sweating and still fighting the panic of that day. Alex threw on the lights while Sam took the Admiral's shoulders to gently shake him awake, but he fought against Sam's hands. Alex called out, "You have to hold him, Sam. Hold him tight. Talk to him." She ran from the room.
This looked to be the most vicious of the nightmares Sam witnessed. Al wasn't waking up. Over and over, he softly murmured, "You're safe. It's okay. Come on, Al, wake up." The frightened victim fought against the arms trying to comfort him, but reason finally responded and the specter of the past slowly dissolved and awareness returned. "Good, Al. It was just a dream." Sam didn't let go, but now his arms were nurturing and supportive instead of trying to keep the man from hurting himself.
Alex came back in with a washcloth and a towel. It was her turn and it was something she obviously had experience doing. "Sam, get him a glass of water, okay?" The young woman sat on the couch and eased her uncle down, his head cradled in her arms. A damp washcloth wiped his face. "It's gone now. No more Vietnam. You're safe with me and Sam. It's all over." She dried his face.
When was this shit going to end for him? It had been weeks, even more than a month now. Usually the dreams came once in awhile and then disappeared for months, but this was interminable. He was ashamed of this new weakness and mortified that both Sam and Alex witnessed it - again. It felt good to be held, but it wasn't right and he tried to get up, telling Alex, "Let me go," but he didn't have the strength yet. "God damn it."
"Just relax and stay put."
"Help me up." Again, he summoned all his strength and with gentle assistance from Alex, he found himself sitting, burying his head in his hands. Seemed he always sat like that after his dreams.
She put the towel over his shoulders. "I'll get your robe. You're going to be cold." She left him alone on purpose. He needed a few moments to transform from Lieutenant back into the Admiral.
Sam showed up with the water. He placed the glass on the coffee table in front of the bowed head. Then he sat and waited for someone else to begin talking.
Alex returned with her uncle's robe. "Let's get this on you." Putting on the robe required Al to lift his head and square his shoulders. Amazing how much that posture did for his appearance. Alex used the damp cloth to wipe his face again. She handed him the towel. "You all the way back home yet?"
"Yeah, I think so. Both of you go back to bed."
She put her hands on his shoulders to massage away the tension, but he pulled away. "You're not back yet."
"Yes, I am."
"Not when you move away from me like that." She made certain Al could see her hand moving toward his shoulder again. As it landed lightly, she felt him concentrate to keep from flinching. "I won't touch you if you don't want me to." Her hand slowly came down.
Sam watched and learned. Alex handled the Admiral differently than he had. She let him remain in control. The Admiral seemed more confident, but in some way more vulnerable. He didn't want to be in the way and though he wanted to remain, he asked, "Would you like me to leave?"
His sad brown eyes looked up and said, "It's okay. We can have a party."
Alex tried her hand on his shoulder again. This time he didn't move. "What was your dream about? One of the usual ones?"
All the Admiral had to say was, "Steve," and Alex knew what happened.
"The rat bastard again. I'd love to find that pig and beat the shit out of him. Let him have a nightmare or two about it all."
He'd been invited to stay so he wanted to know. "Who's Steve?"
"You want me to tell him, Uncle Al?"
He took the glass of water and sipped a little to wet his lips. "Steve Ostrowski was a Petty Officer, a POW who bunked with me the second year I was MIA. I'd been in solitary for months and I needed a friend, so I made a mistake and trusted him. Ostrowski told the guards I was planning an escape. They waited till I almost made it and when they caught me . . ." The memory shook him. "They were good. They almost drowned me. They beat me. They knew how to make it hurt, but never quite let me die and I wanted it so bad," he spoke defiantly, "They wouldn't even let me die. All thanks to Steve."
Alex immediately knew what triggered the remembrance. "I got into all that trust crap tonight. I'm sorry."
The Admiral didn't hear her words. He was still remembering the agony of that day. "The beatings were bad, but there's nothing worse that not being able to breathe. When my head was underwater and I couldn't get any air, it was the most terrifying feeling. Your brain keeps telling you have to breathe, but you know damn well that when you do, you'll be drowning yourself." Too much information. His ability to talk about the nightmare disappeared and he closed up.
Alex was nearly as protective of him as he was of her. "Damned prick. Just give me ten minutes in a locked room with," her lip curled with disgust, "Steve and we'll see what's left of the bastard."
Godfather looked over at her and smiled a little. "Your language is getting as bad as mine. On me, it's devilish. On you, it's just not pretty."
Now Sam's head was in his hands. "Oh God, that's what happened last week. My rat bastard, Petty Officer brother-in-law beat your uncle and tried to drown him. It's the same thing. No wonder you're having nightmares. I'm sorry, Al."
"It's not your fault, Sam. None of it is." The Admiral's heart finally began to beat at a normal rate again. The nightmare was moving out of his present and back into the past where it belonged. He felt safe with Sam and Alex. Maybe trust was a good thing, but not with many. Right now, trust was for these two and Hannah, and maybe Thelma Beckett.
Alex's kind hands worked down her uncle's back. She didn't see the bruises left by Chuck's attack and her right thumb pushed deep into the mark. The assault brought an audible gasp. The Admiral jerked forward away from the punishing hand. "Not a good spot, Alex."
She put her head on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Honey, I know." Awkward settled into the room. "Now, everyone go back to sleep."
Sam stood up. "A wonderful idea, but you're getting into a bed. I'll take the couch and there's nothing more to say about it. Understand?"
Al held out his hand. "Help me up." A true smile and a sense of real hope calmed his soul. These two people were true. Maybe the dreams might go away for awhile if he tried hard to remember that his ugly world included an Alex and a Sam. His world might not be as ugly as he thought.
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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.