Date: Wed, 8 Oct 1997 17:43:10 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Memories - Part 7 Message-ID: Quantum Leap Memories by Katherine Freymuth Copyright 1997 Part 7 Al looked around at his surroundings, not really wanting to be where he was but not knowing what else to do. He wasn't sure how else he was going to "face his demons," as Maddie had put it. Besides, if there was one place in Al's life that had demons, it was his childhood home. The house was dark at the moment because Michael and his children had gone to sleep. Or at least the children had, Al supposed. He had seen Michael slowly walk up the stairs, a bottle of vodka in his hand. At first, Al had thought the liquor was something similar in color: gin. For some reason, the idea that it could have been gin rather than vodka bothered him more than the idea that Michael was drinking it. The darkness of the house was getting to him. It unnerved him that the house was so dark but he didn't know why it bothered him. He wasn't uncomfortable in the dark usually. In fact, just the opposite was true, even if he did prefer the lights on sometimes when in bed with Tina. But this - this was just plain eerie and he was fighting the urge to leave. "Light, Al? Make the light." "I'll try." "Linna," a quiet small voice said, snapping Al out of his reverie. Al turned around to see the source of the word. "Shhh, John. Don't wake Daddy." Al watched as Linda led her little brother towards the door. John, however, wasn't willing to leave the house quite yet. He was pointing at Al, who was still dressed in his lime green suit. "Linna!" John insisted quietly. "Man! Ma--ie's poddy!" Linda was equally insistent. "Shhh," she told John firmly as the two stepped out of the door. Al frowned with concern, no longer amused by John's comment about his suit. He worried that Linda might be taking John and running away. He followed the two and discovered their destination: Maddie's house. He exhaled with some relief, believing that Sam would send the two children back home. Nonetheless, he followed the children into the house and waited in silence as Sam tucked the children in Maddie's bed and wished them good night. "They should go home, Sam," Al told the scientist as soon as Sam was out of Maddie's bedroom. Sam jumped in slight astonishment. "Al, what are you doing here at this time of night?" he questioned, concern on his face. "Or is it night when you are?" Al nodded. "It's night. Same time as here, in fact, which makes things a little more simple." He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "As for why I'm here.... Well, I'm facing my demons. Or that's the idea anyway." Sam frowned as he walked to the living room's couch. "I don't understand." Al raised an eyebrow. "Neither do I. It was Maddie's suggestion for how I could find out what's happening with me." Sam made a sudden realization. "You've stopped stuttering." Al shrugged slightly. "It comes and it goes. Still can't figure out why I was stuttering in the first place." "Comes and goes?" Sam questioned, sitting on the couch. "Well, I ad-m-mit it was pretty strong earlier but now it shows up only every once in a w-while." He took a breath. "Good thing, too. It's r-really beginning to d-drive me n-nuts." He closed his eyes in frustration. "Damn. Th-There they are ag-gain," he muttered quietly. Sam suddenly had a very thoughtful look in his eyes. Al noticed it immediately and frowned with concern and curiosity. "What is it?" he asked. Sam took a breath. "Al, did you stutter when you were a kid?" Al rose his eyebrows in surprise. "What brought on th-that qu-question?" Sam shook his head. "I just suddenly had a picture in my head of a boy stuttering and, for some reason, I just know it's you." Al lowered his eyebrows and glared at no one in particular. "Mind-merging," he commented. Sam looked at him. "What?" "M-Mind-merging," Al repeated. "You're getting M-Madd's memories. She says that I stuttered once w-when I was ssssix." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Didn't your mother leave when you were six?" Al frowned at him. *Of all the things for him to remember.* "This had n-nothing to do with mmmy mother," he said firmly. Sam could still hear a hint of doubt in Al's voice. "How can you be sure?" "Because that was ffffifty-nine yyyears ago and I've been completely over that for d-decades." Sam hesitated for a moment. "Then why can't you forgive her?" Al glared at Sam, obviously more that a little annoyed with the question. "The next time your mmmother leaves you and yyyour sister for an encccyclopeeeedia sssalesman, you t-t-tell me if you ffforgive her." Quickly, he raised the handlink and entered the exiting sequence. Without a word, but with a glare that was more than a little angry, he stepped out of the Imaging Chamber and closed the door. *"Close your eyes and put out your hands."--- "Where's Momma?"--- "Did you steal that?"--- "Momma, I'm sorry. I just thought..." "No, you didn't! You never think, you worthless child!"* Al snapped up to a sitting position on his bed. Sweat seeped from the pours on his forehead and cheeks. He panted breathlessly, forcing his pounding heart to slow. *"Why can't you forgive her?"* Al closed his eyes at the memory of Sam's question, forcing it out of his mind. *"I don't need you to raise my daughter for me!"* He didn't know why but Al suddenly found that he was crying. *"P-Papa! I want my P-Papa!"* "P-Papa," he whispered, his eyes closed. "Shhh," a voice said gently. "It's okay." A hand gently rubbed Al's trembling back. "It's okay, Al. You were having a nightmare." The voice was kind and Al could almost swear he could smell cigarette smoke nearby - the scent of Pall Malls on cotton. "P-Papa?" he questioned cautiously. "Al, it's 'Bina," the voice said. "Al, open your eyes." The scent was different now - much different. Not Pall Malls but rather a light musky scent, like a woman's perfume. Like... "V-V-Verb-b-bina?" he questioned, slowly opening his eyes. "I'm right here," the woman assured. Al took a couple of deep breaths, regaining his composure as best as he could. "W-W-What are y-y-you d-doing h-here?" Verbina noticed the sever stammering had returned. She looked at Al with deep concern. "Ziggy said you were having a terrible nightmare," she told him. "Are you okay?" Al closed his eyes and took a couple more breath before opening them and turning his head towards Verbina. He didn't, however, look at her face but rather at the soft mauve, almost sheer, nightgown she was wearing. He opened his mouth to answer Verbina's question but nothing came from his lips. "Al?" Verbina questioned, her concern almost at a peak. Al hesitated. "I'mmmm okay, 'B-Bina. I'mmm okay n-now." Verbina ignored Al's assurances and checked Al's pulse, feeling his forehead with her free hand. "Al, you're as pale as a sheet, your pulse is racing, and your skin is clammy," she said gently. She turned his head so that he was forced to make eye contact with her. "I want you to go to the infirmary and have Dan check you out." Al shook his head firmly. "N-No. I d-don't need a d-doctor to tell mme w-what's w-wrong with mme," he insisted. Verbina frowned. "Al," she protested. "N-No, Verbina," Al told her, a tinge of anger in his voice. "P-Please. I j-just need some time to sl-slow down and th-think." Verbina hesitated. Taking a deep breath, she finally nodded slowly. "Okay. For now," she amended. She slowly stood. "I'm going to send something up to help you sleep and I want you to promise me that you'll take it." Al looked at her and nodded. "I p-promise. Believe me, 'B-Bina, the one th-thing I w-want r-right now is sssleep." Verbina looked at Al with slight surprise. She hadn't expected him to be so open to her medical orders. "Glad to hear it," she finally said. She headed slowly towards the door. Before she stepped out, she turned to Al again. "If you want to talk, let me know. I'm always available, night or day." Al didn't give any kind of answer. He waited until after Verbina had left the room before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Slowly, he walked to the small bathroom connected with his quarters. He looked in the mirror and exhaled. "Geezuz, Al. You look like shit," he told his reflection. Exhaling once again, he filled the sink basin with cold water before splashing some of the liquid on his face. The water helped neither his appearance nor his emotional state. *Get a grip, Al,* he thought. *Look at yourself. Here you are, a sixty-five year old admiral in the United States Navy and you were crying like a...* "Like a six year old," Al finished the thought aloud. He took a deep breath and let it so. *At least the stuttering had stopped. Again.* Splashing himself again with the cold water, he reviews the nightmare he had. However, the moment he did, he regretted it. The nightmare and the memory of it was so painful to him. That woman screaming at him - he was positive that it had never happened and yet it felt so real. He patted his face dry with a cotton towel and then returned to the main quarters area. He sat back down on his bed. There was another thing strange about that nightmare - that scent of cigarette smoke. *Where the hell did that come from?* He was quite used to the smell of Chivello cigars in his quarters. But Pall Malls? His father had smoked Pall Mall cigarettes. It was odd how that scent of his father's cotton work shirts was so strong, almost as if Gino Julius Calavicci was sitting beside him, comforting Al the way he used to whenever Al had a bad dream. *Or like he did on that day.* Al's eyes widened with slight shock at the thought. *What day? Where did that come from?* The answer refused to let itself be known as the door to the quarters opened, interrupting Al's thoughts. Al turned his head to see Verbina enter the room, a small tray in her hands. "Thought I'd bring this to you myself. I didn't think you would want one of your corporals to see you in your current condition". Al smiled slightly. "Thanks, 'Bina." She brought the tray to him, presenting him with a mug and a thermos. Al opened the thermos and peered in quickly. The scent of chocolate teased his nostrils. "Hot chocolate?" he questioned. "Were you expecting sleeping pills?" she questioned in return. She smiled at him. "I know you don't like taking drugs and this is the best substitute. Made with whole milk, just the way you like it." Al laughed slightly and poured some of the cocoa into his mug. He made a show of drinking some so that Verbina would see he was taking his prescription. Verbina smiled in amusement. After a moment, she looked at her friend with concern. "Al, are you sure you're okay?" Al nodded slightly. "See? The stutter's even gone." "For now," Verbina amended. Al looked at her, a range of emotions in his eyes - annoyance, thankfulness, concern. "Why don't you go back to bed," he said after a moment. "We'll talk about this in the morning. I promise." Verbina hesitated but finally nodded in consent before wishing Al good night and leaving the quarters. Al finished the cocoa Verbina prescribed and returned to bed with the hope if a good night's sleep.