Chapter 5

Sitting there on the ground, Al began to ponder what miracle could have happened to suddenly bring him and Sam together in space and time. And had Sam come to him, or had he gone to Sam? Even as the thought crossed his mind, he became aware of the moonlit scene around them dissolving away and the light of the Imaging Chamber breaking through. Within seconds, there was nothing left of the Georgia sky. It was just him and Sam huddled on the bare Imaging Chamber floor.

"Sam?" he whispered, before slowly releasing his hold on Sam and drawing back from him. Sam also drew back, wiped his eyes and blinked.

"Al?"

"Sam … I think you're home." Al almost didn't dare say it, and as the words left his mouth, he was afraid that somehow Sam couldn't see what he could see and maybe this was all some illusion and Sam would suddenly be snatched away again.

Sam slowly gazed around the room that he hadn't seen for so many years. He pressed his hands down on the floor and was about to get up, but Al stopped him.

"Hang on, Sam." In his bewilderment, Sam hadn't noticed that Zach's child-sized pajamas were now hanging in tatters from his body. Al quickly untied his robe, shrugged it off and handed it to Sam, who slipped it on over what was left of the pajamas.

"Thanks." He climbed to his feet and looked around him, before to Al's amusement, he went and touched one of the walls as if to check it was really there. Sam suddenly gave a wild whoop of delight and smiled ecstatically at Al, who had begun to pick himself up off the floor. Sam stood still for a moment, and then seemed to remember that being home meant 'touch'. He leaped over to Al and threw his arms round him, nearly knocking him back onto the floor. Al returned the embrace until Sam abruptly released him.

"Al, what happened to Zach?"

Al fumbled for the handlink, tapped some buttons and looked up at Sam with confusion clear on his face. "He still disappeared, Sam."

"What?" Sam's bright mood vanished in an instant and he leaned miserably against the wall. "Why, Al. It's not enough that I let … Zach's … dad die." Sam hovered over these words as the raw memory and realisation seemed to simultaneously strike him. "We lost Zach too?" He thumped the wall in frustration. "Let me out, Al."

Al used the handlink to open the chamber door. He knew Sam wanted some time alone, although he doubted he would get his wish for the immediate future, as by now there would be a swarm of people waiting outside for him. Still, he let Sam go. There were some questions that needed answering and Al was keen for a quiet word with Ziggy and a trip to the Waiting Room. Before heading for the door himself, Al picked Scruff up from the floor. He surveyed the grubby stuffed toy in his hands and smiled as a thought flitted through his mind. Scruff, the first time traveling toy – not bad for a ratty little mutt like you.

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It was some eight hours since Sam had been back and Al hadn't seen him since he'd walked out of the Imaging Chamber. It seemed Sam had endured several hours of tests and briefings, while Al had busied himself with catching up on sleep and family time, administration and investigating the outstanding issues that had been nagging at him. Before he'd noticed, the day had disappeared.

It was nearly 7pm now and Al had just been advised that Sam had been released to his quarters for rest a couple of hours earlier. As he made his way through the project headquarters, he was half bursting with excitement about one thing he needed to tell Sam, but at the same time dreading the questions Sam might have about the past few years.

He arrived at Sam's door and knocked softly. After some time, the door opened and Sam stood there, bleary eyed.

"Sorry Sam. Did I wake you?"

"No, it's OK. I was just resting. Come on in. You want a drink?"

"No. Just came to bring you a present and see how you're doing." He followed Sam to the sofa and sat Scruff on the cushion between them, raising a grin from Sam.

"I'm all right, I guess. A bit bruised, battered and sore."

"I'm not surprised; your body's been through quite a bit recently."

"Yeah. My knees look like someone's taken a grater to them. Feel better now the tests and meetings are over though. I just can't be bothered with all that stuff right now."

"You must be pretty tired."

"It's not just that. I wanted some time to figure stuff out, put together all the bits of memories in my head, that sort of thing. I'm starting to forget the leaps already – I mean the ones I could remember until now. And I don't want to forget. Not all of them. And then there're all the memories from before that are starting to come back. It's a bit confusing. And I can't figure out how I even got back here … not that I'm complaining."

Sam stopped and gave Al a deliberate bewildered look, which made Al smile. "It's really good to have you back, Sam. Give me some of those memories; maybe I can unjumble them for you."

Sam talked with Al for nearly an hour about everything from his family, Al's family and Donna to the less personal topics of government, sports and inflation. Sam was thrilled to hear that he'd given Beth back to Al, astounded to be reminded that he had a daughter, and surprisingly complacent about the disappearance of Donna from his life.

Al struggled to explain that one. "It was weird, Sam. Back when you first leaped, she wasn't part of your life. Then quite early on, you changed something and I came out of the Imaging Chamber and there she was. You remember her from when you swapped places with me?" Sam nodded. "Well, she was around for quite a while after that, and then one day I came out and you must have changed something again, because she was gone." Al wanted to say sorry, but felt it would have sounded shallow, considering he now had a wonderful family at home thanks to Sam.

"I guess you've seen quite a few sudden changes like that. What about coming home to find you have a wife and four kids?" Al smiled, but Sam sensed his discomfort. "I'm glad about Donna, Al ... really," he added off Al's surprised look. "It wasn't right, her having to wait back here without me. She deserved a life. I hope she got one."

They were silent for a few moments, then Al said, "So, what do you think about Sammy Jo?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "It's pretty scary to suddenly find I'm a dad. I wish I could have seen her grow up; but in 'our' time I was only 13 when she was born. Do you think I should tell her?"

"Absolutely. She's really great, Sam. Her step-dad died a couple of years back, so I think she'd love the chance to get to know you."

"Hope so." Sam turned to face Al, crossed his legs on the sofa and leaned his chin on his hands. "Al, something's still really bothering me."

"What's that?"

"Zach. And his dad."

Al took a deep breath. This was what he'd been longing to talk about, but he still wasn't sure how Sam would react. "Yeah, Sam. I need to talk to you about that."

"What did I do to make his dad die, Al? It didn't happen the first time. I feel like it was my fault."

"Don't think about it. We'll probably never know what it was. I know I checked with Ziggy right up until moments before it happened and you hadn't changed anything, so it couldn't have been your fault. Don't forget he was drunk."

"He was probably drunk the first time."

"Sam. Leave it. He was a tortured man. At least now he's free from all that."

"But things would have got better. I remember; I was getting through to him. I mean, I know I wasn't quite me, but I remember talking to him. We made progress, and then …"

"Sam. Listen to me. Just let it go."

Sam still looked miserable, but he could see the sense in what Al was saying. "OK, but I need to know, did they find him?"

"Who?"

"Peter."

"Yes, they found him. He was buried with his wife … the first one, Emma."

"Good." Sam leaned the side of his head on the back cushion of the sofa. He was tired, but couldn't bring himself to rest yet. "Zach still disappeared."

Al was hesitant. "Sort of."

Sam immediately latched on to the answer. "You've found out something?"

"I have."

"Tell me."

"All right, here goes. When you came back, you didn't exactly leap did you. There was no blue light and you arrived still wearing what was left of Zach's pajamas."

Sam caught on quickly. "Al!" he said, wide-eyed. "Zach's still here, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Not in the Waiting Room though. We figured we could let him out, now you're home."

"Al, that's incredible. Well, kind of. I mean at least he's not back there on his own. But what are we going to do with him. It's not 1987 any more, but he's still eight. That's got to be weird. Should we try to send him back … no, we can't experiment on a child like that. Al, what do we do?"

"Calm down. To begin with, I don't think he'll want to go back. And he's young. I think he'll adapt well to the change in time. But what to do with him is the bigger question. I have an idea, but I'm not sure what you'll think, and we might have to use some of our 'friends' in high places to make it legal."

"What's the idea, Al?"

"You want to be a dad again?"

Sam stared at him open-mouthed. "I … uh … I hadn't thought about it. Do you think I could … or should?"

"I really don't know, Sam. It was just a thought. The leaping seems to be over. Perhaps He's got another purpose for you now." Al rolled his eyes skyward for a moment and then looked straight back at Sam with a hint of a smile on his face.

"Al, does Zach know anything about what's happened? His dad? And being stuck here?"

"No. All he knows is that you changed places with him to help him. I don't think it's fair to explain the developments until we can tell him what's going to happen to him. He needs some security. Look, Sam, I'm going to leave you for now. You've got a lot to think through. See you tomorrow, OK?"

"OK."

Sam watched Al let himself out and then settled back down on the sofa to think.

He stayed in the same position for some time, stretched out on the sofa, absent-mindedly hugging Scruff in his arms like a cushion and dozily pondering over all the thoughts that Al had left him with, although Al's suggestion about Zach was the predominant occupant of his mind. Undeniably, circumstances had forged a strong bond between him and Zach, even though the two had never exactly met. Being a father to him seemed the right thing to do, but he readily admitted to himself that he was afraid. It was a massive decision. He suddenly felt a strong need to speak with Zach, to get to know him and get a sense of his feelings. Maybe that would help with the decision. Besides, he had Zach's favorite toy and surely a little boy should have that at bedtime.

Sam glanced at his watch. It was just after half past eight and he wasn't sure if Zach would still be awake. Still, it was worth checking. Zach had only been released from the Waiting Room for a few hours and in that cocoon, his normal body clock had been maintained. His mind was probably still telling him it was morning. Sam figured if he was wrong, he could at least slip Scruff into the room to give Zach something nice to wake up to.

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Sam used a borrowed keycard to access the tiny living quarters that had been allocated to Zach on the floor below Sam's own quarters. The door opened onto a small, dimly lit, living room where the female staff member keeping an eye on Zach was reading a book by the light of a coffee table lamp. She glanced up as Sam entered the room.

"Dr Beckett, how can I help you?"

"I need to have a word with Zach. Is he still awake?"

"I'm not sure. He's been in his room for quite a while now. You're welcome to check – it's the door on the right."

"Thanks."

Sam walked up to the bedroom door and hesitated for a second. He still had no idea what he was going to say. He quietly opened the door just a tiny bit and could see that the room was dark. He was prepared to just slip Scruff onto the end of the bed and creep out again, when Zach rolled over and whispered, "Who's there?" He fumbled for a torch that he seemed to be keeping beside him under the duvet and shone it in Sam's face.

"Sorry, Zach. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping. Can you put the light on?"

"OK." Sam flicked the switch and Zach switched the torch off and screwed his eyes up tightly against the sudden brightness. He rubbed at his eyes and peered through tiny slits, until he had adjusted to the light.

"Scruff!" He exclaimed, suddenly noticing the dog in Sam's hand. He held out his arms and Sam passed the toy to him. "You're Sam, aren't you?" He asked shyly. "You were helping me."

"Mind if I sit down?" Sam gestured to the end of the bed and Zach shrugged, so Sam sat. "Yeah, I'm Sam. How'd you know?"

"When I was in that room … the Waiting Room … I looked like you."

Sam smiled at him. "That's right. And when I was at your house, I looked like you."

"But you're back now. And you look like you and I look like me. But I'm still here."

Sam wasn't sure where to go with this. "Yeah. Is that all right?"

Zach shrugged again. He looked down at Scruff in his lap, pulling at the furry ears and asked quietly, "Am I ever going home?"

Sam took a deep breath, knowing he had to give Zach a straight answer. "No, I don't think so." He was unsure what to expect by way of a reaction from Zach. At first, there seemed to be no reaction at all. Zach didn't look up; he just carried on fiddling with Scruff's ears. Then he asked, in a slightly quavery voice, "What about my dad?"

Sam was silent. He didn't know how to say what he needed to say. Unnerved by the silence, Zach looked up. There were tears in his eyes and he looked apprehensive. "Is he dead?"

The directness of the question caught Sam off guard. He looked Zach in the eyes and nodded sombrely.

Zach continued to stare at Sam for several seconds with the tears gathering in his eyes but not falling. When they finally spilled over, Sam reached out and rested his hand on Zach's shoulder, thinking that if he made the first move, Zach would know it was OK to come to him for comfort. But Zach didn't move. He was trying to be brave and to Sam's surprise he stoically began to talk through his tears. "Tell me about when you swapped places with me, Sam. Tell me about Dad."

"Uh … OK. I was there to save your life, but it looked like you were having a tough time and there was nobody to look after you, so I wanted to try to make things better for you too. I met your dad when he came home the first night and he seemed really sad."

"He was drunk, wasn't he?" Zach stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, he was."

"Did he think you were me?"

"Yeah, because I looked like you. And I tried to act like I thought you might act, but that was hard, because I hadn't met you. I wanted to find out why he was so sad, so I could help him. I thought if he could be happy again, he would be able to look after you."

"He was sad because Grandma died. But there was something else too, because he was sad before she died."

"That's right. And I found out why. Zach, there's something you need to know about your mom."

"Did you find out why she left me?"

"Yeah, I did. She left you behind because she wasn't your real mom. You don't remember, but your real mom died when you were very little. There was an accident at your house and your dad couldn't save her. That's why he was so sad." Sam gave Zach a moment to digest this revelation.

"Mom wasn't really my mom? Who was my real mom?"

"Her name was Emma and your dad loved her a lot. She died when you were two. I thought if I could talk to your dad about your real mom, I could help him feel better. So I found a photograph of her and he saw it and he was upset for a while, but he told me what happened to her and I told him it wasn't his fault. And I think after that, he was feeling a bit better."

"How do you know?"

"Well, he ruffled my hair, like this." Sam leaned over and demonstrated the action on Zach. "And he smiled. I hadn't seen him smile before that."

Zach thought for a moment. "I don't remember the last time I saw him smile. Or the last time he touched me." They were heartbreaking statements and Sam felt a painful empathy with Zach's sadness.

"How did he die?" Zach looked at Sam searchingly.

It was a question Sam wasn't ready or willing to answer for him. "You don't need to know that, Zach. Not yet." Sam held his breath, half expecting Zach to protest, but he didn't.

"Grandma told me that Mom and Dad got Scruff for me when I they found out I was in Mom's tummy. 'Cause they were so happy. I thought she meant Mom … my second mom. But I guess she meant my real mom. I'm glad you brought him for me."

Sam smiled and reached over to stroke Scruff's head. "He kept me company while I was at your house." Sam surveyed Zach's tear-blotched face. "Are you all right?" It seemed a stupid question, but Sam was trying to gage whether it was OK to leave Zach alone for the night. Zach nodded, but didn't make eye contact with Sam. "Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

Zach looked up and gazed piteously at him. "What's going to happen to me?"

Sam paused at this question and realised he just wasn't ready to make the commitment that was required of him at this moment. His mind flitted with excuses – he was too tired to think clearly, it hadn't even been two hours since Al had made the suggestion to him, he needed more time to think – but another more honest thought kept intruding. He was running from the decision. He was suddenly aware that Zach was still gazing at him, waiting, and he quickly formulated a not very satisfactory answer.

"Don't worry about that. We'll sort something out. You just try to get some sleep, OK?"

Zach nodded and slid under the duvet with Scruff. He looked miserable and Sam wasn't sure what to do. He was willing to comfort Zach, but felt that Zach would push him away. He had lived in emotional isolation for at least two months and didn't seem ready to accept that comfort yet. Sam tucked Zach in, wished him good night and switched out the light.

"Door open or closed, Zach?" he said before leaving the room.

"Closed."

"OK, see you in the morning."

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