From: AKulsum@aol.com Date: Tue, 22 Oct 1996 03:11:58 -0400 Message-ID: <961022031153_338644594@emout10.mail.aol.com> Subject: road 2/9 "The Road Taken" pt. II Tina walked the halls slowly, her heels echoing omniously in the dead silence. For once, Sam's days and nights almost entirely matched their own and so the chances of finding anyone up at this hour was slim to none. So why hadn't Al come to bed? It was a rare time indeed when Al refused her company, unless, that is, work was getting in the way. Tina groaned inwardly. Al was, if anything, an avid workaholic. As she turned the corner, Tina could see the light glimmering through the crack below the door of Al's office. Yep, work. Tina rapped gently on the door and waited. There was no response. Quietly, she opened the door. Al's office was inpeccably neat, as always. He had always been something of a neat freak, a direct result of life in the military, Tina supposed. There were no pictures on the walls, just the bare grey of the paint punctuated by the occasional award or recognition, the milestones of his life. The only sign of any color in the room was a picture that always sat on his desk of him and Sam. It had been taken the day funding for Project Quantum Leap had been approved and Sam had insisted on before and after pictures. They never got around to the "after" one. In fact, the only thing out of place in the office was Al. Instead of working at his desk, he was turned around in his chair, facing the wall. Tina moved around the desk and stood to Al's right. He was staring at a certificate, and Tina's eyes followed his gaze. This Certificate is to Represent Awards for Outstanding Work In the Areas of Holography and Quantum Physics To: Doctor Samuel John Beckett, M.D., PhD. & Admiral Albert Joseph Calavicci, USN as of this date: July 20, 1991. Tina's gaze travelled back to Al's face and she realized that he wasn't even aware that she was there. Lightly, she touched his shoulder and he jumped, reflexively grabbing her arm. Tina supressed a shiver at the action so reminiscent of his behavior every time she woke him from a nightmare. Except he hadn't dreamed of Vietnam in months. "Sorry," Al murmured, releasing her. Tina seemed about to say something, but he held up a hand to forestall any comments. "Please.....I don't want to talk about it." The look in his eyes held the plea his tone hadn't carried. Mutely, she slipped into his lap and put her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. A small sigh escaped his lips as he began to relax and Tina could feel the rapid beating of his heart slow minutely. He put his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair, savoring the sensation of just being still. Little by little, a small degree of peace began to seep into his soul. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------------------------- Sam was beginning to feel very frusturated by noon the following day. Not only was Katrina's car a hunk of junk, giving him incessant problems and worry, but each and every job interview he went to (and there were a _lot_) was for a position as a secretary. Sam constantly reminded himself that this _was_ 1953 and that a secretary was about as good as it got for a woman with Katrina's education, but it still irritated him. At least he had had prior experience and perhaps he could secure her a job. During the entire day, Al popped in every now and then for a few moments but, as his services really weren't needed, he usually kept his visits short. He looked a fair sight better then he had the night before, but he was still upset about something and Sam was determined not to let another day go out before he found out what was bothering him. The evening found Sam at a friend's home for dinner. Apparantly the young couple, Susan and Jeff, were good friend's of Katrina's and Susan was probably the one who helped and was still helping Katrina make a fresh start. Sam didn't often enjoy the luxury of a good, homecooked meal while leaping and he took full advantage of it now. He took another mouthful of the steamy, tender baked chicken and half wished Al would show up so he could tease him about not being able to eat. "So....how's the job hunt going?" Susan asked, reaching for her wine. Sam wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Fairly well, I think. Hopefully I'll hear something tomorrow or the day after." Susan looked at Jeff uneasily. "That's good." There was a pause that made Sam stop and think. The evening had started off easily enough, the three of them keeping a steady thread of conversation going in spite of Sam's lack of knowledge about her and Katrina. However, as the end of the meal approachged, he had noticed growing unease on Susan's part. This was the first time there was actually an awkward pause. "Well," said Jeff with a nod, "if you're done, perhaps we can move into the den for some coffee." Sam smiled. "That would be nice," he stated, putting his napkin on the table and rising. Mercifully, he had found a pair of nice navy slacks in Katrina's closet and was spared the trials of a skirt. They were settled when the subject that had apparantly been troubling them arose to the surface. Jeff discreetly left the room as Susan began talking. "Katrina? I need to talk to you." Sam glanced up from his coffee and looked a question at her. She moved to his side on the couch. "I went by Ben's to pick up the last of your things for you today." He nodded. "Thank you. I really appreciate you helping Ka- me out like this." Susan stared at the carpet. "Yes, well, we found something. It didn't have a name on it and so I opened it. I think maybe....Ben found it and was using it as a parting shot." "What did it say?" "It was a clipping....from the obituaries. Dated about eight months ago. It was an article for your daughter. Sam gasped, almost spilling the coffee all over himself. "Wha-what?!" he stammered. "Now, Katrina, I'm not saying what you did all those years ago was right, but you know that all ready and there's no need to remind you. But even so, it's OK to greive for her. Please, Katrina, talk to me." The woman's concern pressed down hard on Sam and he felt stifled. "I-I have to go," he insisted, standing abruptly and reaching for his purse. "Katrina, please-" "I have to go," Sam repeated. "I'll call you, I promise." Reluctantly, Susan let him go. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------------------------- Al found himself back at the waiting room door. After a long pause, he entered, the picture of distance and composure. Katrina, on the other hand, stiffened visibly when she saw him. "I have a few more questions for you." Without waiting for permission, he pulled out the handlink and started to question her. "Sam needs to know....what job you were taking." "What job?...." "If you get accepted for some of the secretarial positions, he needs to know which one to settle for." "The one with the most pay. I'm not choosy." Al snorted at that as he entered the information into the device. "Ben......are you pressing charges?" "Yes." "Need the money, do you?" "Yes." Al bit his lip at her honest response. "And I don't think he should be in a position to hurt anyone else, do you?" "No..." Al agreed slowly, "I don't think anyone would intentionally hurt somebody they really cared about. I guess you were right to divorce him." Comforting words, but with a cold tone. "There is one more thing, Ms. Rimsky, would anybody want to kill you?" "Kill me?!" she drew back startled. "No! Not that I can think of." "Well," Al responded, putting the handlink back into his pocket, "keep thinking. You may have just swiss-cheesed the information we need." Before she could question the admiral, he was out the door on his way to relay this information to Sam. On his way down the hallway, lost in thought, Tina snagged him by the arm. He stopped and put his arm around her, drawing her close. "Al Calavicci," she laughed, "we're in the middle of the hall! Can't you keep your hands off me for a minute?" "Not a chance, Darling," he responded with a grin as he caught a lock of her hair with his free hand. "Can't have you feeling neglected." "Heaven forbid! How about dinner tonight? My place....just the....two of us?" Al hesitated. "Ha! You couldn't fool me, Al. Something's still bothering you. What is it?" "I.....have to go talk to Sam." Al turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Tina alone in the hall. Verbeena closed her office door quietly so as not to disturb Tina, standing in the hall. She had yet to see one person who _didn't_ have that dazed, worried look on their face after talking to Al Calavicci lately, herself included. Obviously Sam didn't get anything out of him last night. The only thing she could be sure of was that if Sam didn't get through to him tonight, she would have to try something drastic. Now, if only she knew where to get a hold of a brick..... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------------------------- Sam was pacing, waiting for Al when he showed up. "She has a daughter? Al, why didn't you tell me?" Al frowned. "She had two kids from her....first marriage. Why should that matter?" "Because a good friend of mine- Katrina's -just informed me that her daughter died a month ago." "Now, Sam, just calm down now. It probably never even bothered her. I doubt she's even seen her daughter in years." Sam whirled to face his friend. "Susan seemed to think she'd be upset. What is your _problem_, Al? How long are you going to mope around like this? Al...." Sam's voice softened, his anger spent. Al had the same frozen, trapped look that he'd had the night before, just before he'd run out. "Al, you can trust me. You're my best friend. Talk to me." "Aw, Sam, you wouldn't understand." "Maybe," Sam conceded, "but I'm willing to listen anyhow." Still Al hesitated. Sam started to reach out, but stopped himself when he remembered the action would be useless. He stifiled a gasp of surprise as a single tear slipped past Al's defenses and made a track down his cheek. "Katrina's daughter," he began hoarsely, "is Trudi. Katrina was....my mother."