Return-PathMessage-Id: <3.0.4.32.19990329205115.00688a98@earthlink.net> Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1999 20:51:15 -0600 From: "Christina L. Bartruff" Subject: Less Than Perfect - Chapter VI "Less Than Perfect" Christina L. Bartruff Chapter VI MAY 1985 PROJECT STAR BRIGHT MAUDLIN, VA (F*L*A*S*H*B*A*C*K) Al pushed open the stairwell door, descending into the lower levels of the project, where the vending machines were kept. It was late, close to 6:30 p.m. Most of the staff, if not all, was gone for the evening. That was good, as far as Al was concerned. The last thing he needed right now was to get caught with booze on a top secret project. He'd been smuggling bottles in his gym bag for almost a year, and he'd stock up on cans of soda to help disguise what he was up to. Tonight, he was a little more than half way through the bottle and ran out of soda. The divorce was final. Six months ago, Janet filed for divorce and sole custody of their daughter, Calista. To add insult to injury, she also petitioned to ban Al from even seeing Callie. Al swayed slightly, coins poised above the slot. He remembered calling Janet immediately after her lawyer contacted him. He demanded to know why she was cutting him off from their daughter. *"What difference does it make? Your never around, Al and she hasn't seen you in weeks."* Al didn't know how to tell her that he'd watched his own father die of cancer and he just couldn't sit around and watch Callie die as well. He hadn't worked up the courage to face his daughter yet and now Janet was threatening to deny him the chance. *"Look, honey, if you promise not to cut me off from her, I'll . . . I'll try to stop in to see her. From time to time."* *"Not good enough," she informed him. "She needs you, Al. She misses you. She doesn't understand why you don't come to see her. She thinks you don't love her anymore."* Even now, Janet's words stung. Al closed his eyes and leaned against the machine, still clutching the change. *"Janet . . ." he pleaded, turning on the charm, trying to get his way.* It hadn't worked. *"No, Al. I'm serious. You need to get help. I want you to see someone about those nightmares. And your drinking. If you do that, then I'll change the petition."* Al had tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't budge. Those were her terms. End of subject. Part of him realized that she was doing this for him, but that part of him was silenced by the other part. The part that felt bitter and betrayed. How *dare* she use their *child* against him? Janet was true to her word. When the judge declared the marriage dissolved, Al lost all rights to his daughter. *My daughter's dying and I can't see her,* he thought, angrily shoving the coins into the slot. That rational part of his mind kept reminding him that it was his own fault he lost Callie. Al jabbed at the selection button. Nothing happened. He pounded on the button several times before he realized that he jammed the coins in the slot. Unsuccessfully, he alternately tried to pry the coins out and push them in. After about fifteen minutes of more pounding with his bare hands, Al went in search of something to help him. The old storage room had an assortment of items with potential. Croquet wickets, a pitiful excuse for a Christmas tree, an old ‘Reserved for General Officers' parking sign with every other letter scratched off, and a hammer. Al picked the hammer. He swayed a little has he raised his arms, ready to strike. "Excuse me." The admiral turned sharply. "What?" Standing before him was an earnest looking man, somewhere between the age of 25 and 45. "Uh, I really don't think that's a good idea." "So?" Al turned back, raising his arms again. He never delivered the blow. The stranger calmly, and with a surprisingly strong grip, took hold of the hammer. Stubbornly, Al held on, locking eyes with the younger man. There was a determination there, and a bit of desperation, too. That caught Al off guard, and he wondered who the kid was. Al let him take the hammer. "Admiral Albert Calavicci?" he asked, hesitantly, as if he was afraid he had the wrong person. "Yeah. Who wants to know?" "I'm Sam Beckett. I need help," he replied, offering his hand. "And I think you do too." *********************************** Sam turned out to be a godsend. It didn't happen overnight, but the kid eventually got through to him. And he went about it in such a devious way, Al sometimes wondered if Sam was as innocent as he looked. In those days, the young genius wasn't being taken seriously by people in power. It was up to Al to run interference for him. By giving Al a challenging job, Sam was able to goad the admiral into spilling his guts. In appreciation for all Al's help and support, Sam went as a go-between for him and Janet. That's how Al found out that Janet had hoped, and prayed, that Al would have taken steps to face his problems, instead of running further away from them. Even as the gavel had fallen, she told Sam, she'd been hopeful of Al coming to his senses. Janet's offer still stood, but Sam convinced her to let him handle Al. Sam made Al go see Callie every day. It was pure agony, but the rational part of his mind pointed out, again, that time was precious. All Al wanted to do after each visit was to drown himself in a bottle. Sam wouldn't allow that. He reminded Al that Janet would ban him again, if he did. Sam only relented once. The day Callie died, Sam brought him back to his apartment. He put one bottle and one glass on the dining room table and watched Al from the sofa, never saying a word. Al couldn't finish the bottle, he broke down after the second glass. The scientist wordlessly put him the spare room. The next morning, the empty bottle was sitting on the table. That was the last time, until the birth of Ziggy, that Sam allowed Al more than one drink. DECEMBER 21, 2000 PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP STALLIONS GATE, NM Al groaned, momentarily disoriented. The lamp on the night stand was blinding him. The clock next to the lamp told him that it was four in the morning. He rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over the desk chair that had been pulled up beside the bed. Someone had moved it and he was certain it wasn't him. The empty bottles were also missing. Al had lost count. He'd have to check if the stash was still there and he'd have no way of knowing if he'd already drunk them all or if someone had taken them. He wouldn't trust Ziggy's answer if he asked her, so he didn't bother. *This must be Verbena's doing,* he thought, stumbling out of the room. He hoped there were bottles left. After that last dream, Al wanted to forget as soon as possible. Sam. If he'd known then, that Sam Beckett was responsible for Beth's death, Al would have used that hammer on him. The rational part of his mind told him to stop blaming Sam for her death. It was an accident. Plain and simple. Al told that part of his mind, on no uncertain terms, where to go. His supply was still there, but there was only two left. Al stood there in the dusty room, raking his brain, trying to remember if he'd gone through ten bottles already. He was rewarded with a dull throbbing, so he stopped. One way or the other, he was down to last of his crutch. He'd have to find more soon. Al clicked off the flashlight and left the store room, clutching the bottle like a life line. ********************************* Sabina listened carefully, ear pressed against her door, waiting until she heard the door close behind Al. She sighed. *Not that he could hear me,* she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sabina took temporary lodging in the guest room across the hall from Al. It was more convenient for checking in on him. It was the only thing she could do for him at the moment. She glanced at the full bottles, sitting on the table across from her. Earlier, Sabina had removed them from the store room. She also removed the bottles from his room, so he wouldn't know how much he'd actually drank. It would be a while before Al had passed out again, so she picked up one of the bottles and uncorked it. She moved to the bathroom and carefully poured the contents down the drain. Hopefully, the sound wouldn't carry. When the last bottle was empty, Sabina placed them in the plastic recycling bin by the door and settled down to wait for Ziggy's ‘all clear'. ******************************** Next chapter: Sam! Little side note to the curious: There IS a place called Mauldin, but it's not in Virginia. There's one in South Carolina. There's a place called The Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia, and I thought Mauldin would be the perfect name for a place near by. So, Mauldin, SC has been temporarily annexed by the Commonwealth of Virginia. Ssshhh. Don't tell anyone. ;)