"Life's a journey, not a destination."
Chapter 21
Life's a Journey
The next morning, Al slurped down his coffee as he lumbered into Project Quantum Leap's control room.
"Morning, Admiral," Gooshie said, already perky as he stood by the multicolored control table programming some new information.
Al grumbled and went to Verbeena's office. She also looked refreshed and cheery.
"Well, someone looks like they had a rough night," she said brightly. "Drank a little too much at Donna's birthday party?"
"You must take pleasure in seeing me in agony," grumbled Al.
"Not as much as you think," she replied, still smiling. "I take it you need more of a pick-me-up than coffea arabica."
"The best you can give me. And some Aspirin."
"I have better." Dr. Beeks walked to a cabinet where she kept medication. Mostly these were calmatives for the Visitors who tended to arrive in a panic, but every once in a while the crew needed something extra to keep on their toes during arduous Leaps. She opened two bottles, put the medicine into a paper cup, and handed the cup to Al, who swished them down with his coffee.
"How's the Visitor?" Al asked routinely.
"Mr. Nyt still believes we're part of the Mafia and holding him prisoner. Since we're not torturing him, he's feeling relieved; therefore, I've determined that it might be best to let him continue believing that for now. How's Dr. Beckett?"
Al gave a grunt as he sipped his coffee. "Yesterday scared the crap out of me. I hope he Leaps before he gets himself even more injured. He should make it to El Paso in under an hour. Let's hope getting that girl home is all he has to do, because I'm not sure he's physically up to making the crossing into Mexico."
Al left, waved hello to Tina while purposely not looking at her giving Gooshie a peck on the cheek, and only belatedly realized Donna and a couple other core members of the team were not around. Perhaps they were also recovering from the party.
"Prepare the Imaging Chamber," he called out. He slugged down the last of the coffee and set the cup to the side. The entry corridor's warm blue glow lit up with a hum. Al trudged up the ramp and looked at the misty image on the other side of the corridor. "Just what I need, a bright desert morning for my hangover," he grumbled.
"Tell Sam hi for me," Tina called out with a too-da-loo wave.
Ziggy's voice came over, smooth and svelte, almost sexy. Tina had picked her ideal voice when programming this feature, so although Ziggy was referred to from the beginning as a he, Tina stubbornly gave the computer a woman's voice. "Ready when you are, Admiral. And remember," the computer said firmly, "stay focused on the mission."
"You're just bitter, Ziggy," Al laughed, lighting up a cigar already.
"You have yet to see me bitter, Admiral Calavicci," Ziggy said in what was almost an ominous tone. "Let my father die again, and you might see it."
Tina looked up at the swirling sphere. "Did Ziggy just … threaten us?"
Gooshie flinched slightly at the wild thoughts of worst-case scenarios involving hyper-intelligent hybrid computers and torture devices. "Perhaps I shouldn't have programmed that into Ziggy."
Tina looked over so fast, her flashing earrings looked like disco balls. "That? That what?"
"You, uh … don't want to know." The little halitosis-plagued man blushed fiery red.
Ziggy's voice came back, instantly pleasant again. "Have fun in El Paso, Admiral."
Al glared up worriedly at the sphere that held Ziggy's "brain." He knew Sam's momentary death had worried the rest of the crew, but Ziggy … no one thought about how losing Sam would affect the computer. Ziggy had called Sam "father" in a joking manner before, but how did he really view Sam Beckett?
"Gooshie," Al said softly as the Imagining Chamber slid open, "tell Dr. Beeks to have a little pep talk with Ziggy while I'm gone." The psychiatrist had helped Ziggy's emotions in the past. He hoped she could calm the computer down now.
Al grabbed up the colorful handlink and sneered at the blue and white glare he had to walk through first. He clamped down on the cigar, firmed up his determination, and stepped through…
…back to 1995 and into the home of Tío.
"So," he said, attempting to be cheerful to make up for how lousy he felt, "how's the patien-… hellooooo nurse! Maybe I should come back at a better time."
Sam bolted up from bed, but his unconscious self had forgotten about the injuries. He shouted in pain, which brought Araceli to wake up and rise from bed beside him. She rubbed her eyes and hummed. Her loose shirt fell off the edge of her shoulder and slipped down her breast, almost revealing it, except she quickly yanked it back up, only to have it slip again.
"Sorry," he said, rubbing out his arm. "Sudden nature call. Go back to sleep."
"No, please," Al chuckled, ogling her. "Keep sitting just like that. Yowza!"
Araceli rose from the bed dressed in only an over-sized shirt and her underwear. "I'll get the coffee going and check on Tío."
Sam stood much slower and tested his body first. He looked down at the wrap around his ribs. Wearing only boxers, he hobbled to the dingy bathroom.
"Sam, you dog!" Al said, shaking his head.
"Nothing happened," he whispered.
"You wake up in bed in your underwear with a half-naked, drop-dead gorgeous mamacita sleeping beside you and you say nothing happened?"
"Really! Well," he hesitated, "maybe kissing was involved, but … it's not what it looks like."
Al chuckled. "Oh, I've heard that one before. Of course, this is you we're talking about, so I'm prone to believe you simply fell asleep while talking about philosophy."
"It got cold, and the shivering hurt. It was either steal her blanket and leave her with nothing, or combine blankets. That's all, I swear."
"You didn't think to—oh I don't know—put more clothes on?" Al shouted, but he had to laugh. Sam was way too innocent to lie about this, which made it even more fun to tease him.
"I couldn't put clothes on. The medicine…"
There was a knock on the door. "If you're done with confession," Tío called in, "I've got pancakes. Are you okay with sausage, or are you one of those religions that don't eat pork?"
"Uh, no, th-that is, pork's fine," Sam shouted, embarrassed for having gotten caught talking to Al again.
Looking at the face in the mirror, he was glad that at least Theodore Nyt healed quickly. The puffiness in his face had already gone down, and whatever Dr. Sanchez put on the bruising had helped the discoloration considerably. He still had a dark shadow under his eye, but nothing like how bad he looked yesterday. He moved his arm, found it felt better, but he realized there was still a lot of healing to do.
"So, is Ziggy talking again?"
"Oh, yes, he got out of his temper tantrum and decided, quite reluctantly, that this mysterious doctor was an unknown integer. Since he's gone now, Ziggy is stubbornly ignoring him and demands we all focus on getting you and Araceli to Socorro." Al laughed tensely. "He actually threatened us this morning."
"Threatened?" Sam asked in worry. "Ziggy's mad?"
"A tad bitter about you temporarily dying."
"Oh, you do not want Ziggy bitter," warned Sam. "Never, ever, make him bitter."
Al was curious now, but he decided it might be best not knowing what the computer might do to them all.
Over a pancake breakfast, Araceli read a newspaper. Sam cut up the thick stack with cheap artificial syrup and margarine that refused to melt. At least the orange juice was fresh, and the coffee was strong.
"I'm so behind on what's going on in the world," Araceli sighed, flipping to another page of the paper. "It's a miracle I can remember it's 1995 already."
"Yeah, same here," Sam ironically agreed.
Small Pedro came up and delivered two more sausages. "¿Usted quiere más crepes, señor?" Do you want more pancakes, mister?
Sam smiled down at the boy. "Gracias, pero no más. Es sabroso, muy sabroso. Mi barriga es llena." Thanks, but no more. It's tasty, very tasty. My belly is full.
The boy shrugged. "Barriga llena, corazón contento. Disfrute su comida, señor." A full stomach makes a happy heart. Enjoy your meal, mister.
Sam watched him walk back toward the kitchen. "So, it's señor today and not gringo?"
Araceli chuckled. "He got in trouble for calling you that. His mama is trying to teach him not to use racially-charged language he's picking up at school. Also, Pedro said you aren't really a gringo because your Spanish is flawless. Huh!" she said, looking at the newspaper. "Intel just came out with a new chip. They're calling it 'P6.' It says here, it has 5.5 billion transistors on a two-chip package. How can they even make something so tiny contain so much?"
Sam ate a portion of sausage and said nothing. Something like that was infantile compared to Ziggy.
"My brother has stock in Intel," she explained. "He got it last year, said personal computers are the way of the future, and the stock is only going to go up."
"So long as he cashes out before the dot-com burst of 2000," Al grumbled through his cigar. "I lost a lot of money on that."
"He should keep it for four years, then sell," Sam said offhand.
"Oh?" She looked up from her newspaper. "Are you keen on playing the stock market?"
"I'm just saying," he said. "Cash in everything before 2000. It's a new millennium, people are going to panic, the stock market will fluctuate for a year or two. Sell while the market is high, wait for the panic to subside, then buy when it's low."
"Oh, Sam, you're not supposed to tell her these things," Al chided, but not too angrily.
Sam knew the rules, but he figured her family needed the extra help. In all likelihood, her brother would cash in his stock long before then, or simply not listen to a sister's advice. Even if he did listen and avoided a stock market crash, a little money would not change their lives too drastically … right? Well, hopefully.
They finished breakfast. Tío and his daughter Juanita gave Araceli hugs with friendly admonitions to visit them more often. Pedro stood behind and stared suspiciously at Sam.
"You had better visit again," Tío scolded with a soft pat to Araceli's cheeks.
"I'm moving back to Socorro, so I can make the drive," she said. "I'll get Mama and Papa to come too."
Sam shook hands with the old cowboy and then handed him an envelope. "My way of saying thanks, not just for the bed and breakfast, but for being one of those people Araceli can turn to in her time of need."
Tío chuckled and shook his head, trying to push away the envelope. "Señor, Araceli is like family. You don't need to thank me."
"Yes, I do. That's just the type of man I am. Maybe it'll help your family. Get some fresh water piped in from the city, for starters, instead of that well water stuff," he suggested. "I put in a little extra so you can make sure your own children and grandchildren always have a home to return to."
With more waves, Araceli and Sam walked over to the bike. It had been fixed up enough to drive, although the paint was marred and deep grooves scarred the side from the crash.
"That poor, poor bike," Al lamented, leaning over to see the damage. Just then, Araceli climbed on. Still hunched, with her thigh inches from his face, Al gazed upon something far more exquisite than a Harley. "Her poor, poor legs. Sam, I hope you kissed every injured part of her body, and I do mean every."
Sam gave him a scolding glare. Then he tapped Araceli's arm. "I'll ride."
Al chortled softly. "I bet you want to ride her!"
"Are you sure you're up to it?" she asked in concern.
Al injected, "Señorita, you'd make any man up to it!"
"I'm up … I'm…" Sam strained not to listen to Al's perversions. "I feel better after last night." Al guffawed louder. "Sleeping!" he insisted. "After getting a relaxing night of sleep, I'm in a lot less pain." Shut up already, Al! "Come on, the least I can do to save my pride is to be driving as I pull up to your parents' house. It's just an hour. I'll be fine. Besides, this way I'll know if I'm okay to keep going or if I need to stay in town for another day or two."
Araceli nodded and scooted back. "I almost hope you're in a tiny bit of pain so you have to stay around."
Al was nearly drooling on her. "You can put me through all the pain you want."
Sam mounted the bike in the front and adjusted his clothes.
"Un momento." She took one last long look around the village in reminiscence. "Did you grow up around here, Theodore?"
"No, actually." He tried to think back to Al's brief biography of Mr. Nyt. "I lived in Las Vegas up to a few days ago. Before that, I lived in … um … in Los Angeles."
Her gaze swept the barren land. "I lived my whole life in the desert, and there is one thing I've learned. The desert is one big liar! It makes you think there is an oasis just over the next dune, yet there's no water. It makes you think the next hill is only a few minutes away, yet you can walk for hours and never reach it. It makes you forget. It makes you remember what you wish you could forget. It makes you think the world is massive when really it's quite small. It makes you want to believe in eternity, while in reality, especially in the desert, time is short, meetings are brief, and tomorrow comes far too soon." She wrapped her arms around Sam's waist and leaned into his back. "I just met you, yet before the day is over, you'll be gone."
Sam had to chuckle. "With any luck, assuming I'm not shot, stabbed, or beaten again. Besides, I told you on Wednesday that I'd get you home in time for your mother's birthday, and here it is, Friday already. You could have stayed in Carrizozo waiting for your brother, been a lot safer, and still have gotten home at about the same time."
"Not true. My brother couldn't have come to get me until tonight. With any luck, as you say, we'll be in Socorro in an hour. I still have all day to buy my mother a birthday gift. And in Carrizozo, I would have been lonely. This way, I've had someone watching over me the whole time." She rubbed her hands over his chest and looked up into his face. "It's one of those meetings you never forget, the sort of adventure that comes along only a few times in our life. Despite everything," she chuckled with a blush, "I've had fun. 'Life's a journey, not a destination.'"
"Emerson."
"Huh? No, Aerosmith. You know, the song."
"It's amazing," Al sang to remind him. "In the blink of an eye, you finally see the light."
"Oh, uh … right." Sam turned back around and fixed the helmet over his face. "Great, now that song's going to be stuck in my head all day."
"You're welcome," chuckled Al. "Now let's get going. The sooner you get her home, the sooner I can get some more of that miracle medicine for my headache."
"Yeah, let's go," Sam agreed.
The bike roared and putted away. Tío, Juanita, and Pedro waved farewell. The bike hit some paved road, and Sam sped up to highway speeds.
"What did the señor give you, abuelo?" Pedro asked, staring at the suspiciously thick envelope.
Tío used his pocketknife to cut it open. Instantly, he stumbled backward and grabbed his chest. Juanita held him in worry.
"Papa, Papa! What is it?" Then she saw the inside of the envelope too and grabbed her chest. "¡Ay Dios mio!"
Pedro cocked his head to the side as he saw the enveloped stuffed with green bills. "That's a lot of hundreds."
A/N:
"Barriga llena, corazón contento" is a Spanish saying: Stomach full, heart happy. It's based on the Bible: "The righteous eat to their hearts' content, but the stomach of the wicked goes hungry." (Proverbs 13:25)
On February 17, 1995, Intel announced the release of the P6, yanking the company out of the mire of the Pentium mishap. My husband is a tech at Intel, so I wanted to throw that in.
"Life's a journey, not a destination" has been requoted so many times, it's hard to know the original source, but I believe Steven Tyler of Aerosmith was quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson in their song "Amazing" (1993).