Date: Sun, 22 May 94 12:13:51 EDT From: "Tracy E. Finifter" Subject: Meant to Be - Pt. 4 Message-Id: "Meant to Be - August 12, 1953" by Tracy E. Finifter Part 4 Al was quite tired when he walked out of the Imaging Chamber. That was understandable, considering it was well after midnight. Still, Gooshie was surprised to see him, especially since Sam had not leaped yet. Al almost always stayed in the Chamber until Sam leaped out. "Admiral Calavicci, are you all right?" "Yeah, I'm fine, Gooshie," Al replied halfheartedly. Just then, Gooshie's and Al's attention were drawn by Ziggy's sudden but simple announcement, "Dr. Beckett has leaped out of Baltimore, 1953." "Well, Admiral," Gooshie commented, "I guess that does it for the week." "Great," Al muttered. Inwardly, he was relieved, he was just too drained to feel it. "It's been a long day, I'm going back to my room." "Um, your room, Admiral?" Gooshie asked with confusion. "Yeah, my room!" Al snapped, having no patience right now for Gooshie's absent-mindedness. Realizing that he was taking his frustrations out on the innocent, Al softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Gooshie. I'm just tired. I didn't mean to snap at you. Listen, have you seen Tina?" Gooshie's confusion grew. "Tina? Why, she's in our room, I think. Why? What do you need from her?" Al could no longer hide his frustration. "What do you mean *your* room? And why wouldn't I want to see her?" Gooshie smiled broadly as he finally seemed to understand. "Oh, I get it, Admiral. You just can't stop hitting on her, can you? Really, what would your wife say?" Al gaped at Gooshie. He was really too tired for all this nonsense and had the word 'wife' not come up, he would have dismissed the whole conversation at once. "What wife are you talking about? I'm not married now, at least, I don't *think* I am." "What do you mean? You've been married for as long as I've known you." Gooshie was suddenly confused again by Al's strange behavior. Al was too tired to argue anymore. It was almost as if they were carrying on two entirely separate conversations with each other. Obviously they were not going to sort it out now. "Fine then," he gave up in disgust, "I'm going back to my room and going to bed." "Why don't you just go home?" "Home?" asked Al, suddenly confused again. "I thought that's where I said I was going." "Well you never stay at the project once Sam's leaped, so I thought you meant you were going *home* home." "*Home* home?" "Yeah, your little house outside of town." "What the hell are you talking about now, Gooshie?" "I believe Gooshie is referring to the single-story dwelling that you and your wife have been renting for the past eight years, Admiral," Ziggy finally spoke up. Al turned towards the hybrid computer's interface. "You've been very quiet about this so far, Ziggy. What do you know that I don't?" "Only that your address is 35 West Yucca Lane, Alamagordo, New Mexico," he responded in his distinctly feminine voice. Al could almost see the pout. "You know more than that," he mumbled and headed towards the elevator. Something was wrong here and Al was determined to find out exactly what it was. It was a fifteen minute drive to the address Ziggy had said he called his own, but the way Al was driving it only took five. Al had passed the house on a few occasions, but he had never paid much attention to the unassuming structure in the past. Now Ziggy was telling him that he lived here, and that was quite impossible. There was already a car in the driveway, confirming Al's belief that the jumbled pile of circuits was just going crazy. Still, since he had made the trip, he might as well go all the way. He parked his car on the street and headed up slowly to the front door. He carefully rang the doorbell, unsure of what to expect. "Come in," called a woman from somewhere inside the house. In the back of his mind, Al knew the voice, but was too distracted to recognize it. He carefully opened the door and stepped inside. He ran a list in his mind of who might be inside, but he kept coming up with the same three choices: an estranged ex-wife out for revenge, a homicidal maniac, or Rod Serling. "This is ridiculous," he mumbled to himself, suddenly embarrassed by his paranoia. "Is that you, Al?" called the woman. He followed the voice. "Uh, yeah," Al muttered, the feeling of paranoia back and justified. Maybe Ziggy wasn't the one going crazy, maybe it was him. "Did you forget your house keys again? Really, what am I going to do with you?" The voice was definitely familiar, hauntingly so. Al followed it through the house carefully. And as he turned the corner into the living room, he saw her. Standing there, like something out of a dream. Her hair was silver now, but her eyes were as big and brown as he remembered and her smile was the same one he had fallen in love with years ago. Al was in shock, unable to say anything but a weak, "Oh, God, Beth..." The smile on Beth's face quickly faded to an expression of concern. "Al, are you all right?" Al didn't even hear her. He didn't hear anything except the beating of his heart, which seemed to increase in rate tenfold. It all seemed so... unreal, and Al wanted nothing more in the world than to touch her, feel her, and convince himself she was truly there. He ran up to her and embraced her with all the strength he possessed. "Oh, God," he repeated. "Beth, is that really you?" Beth was taken aback by Al's sudden show of emotion. "Al, what's wrong? Did something happen to Sam?" she asked with terror, not knowing of anything else which could disturb her husband so much. Trying to hold back the tears, Al smiled weakly. "No. Nothing's happened to Sam. Everything's great. I just... I can't believe it's you!" He realized as he said it how stupid he must have sounded, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything but the woman in front of him. Beth pulled away from Al's embrace as gently as she could, led him carefully to the couch, and sat down. "Of course it's me, Al. What's the matter?" Her tone was firm but caring. "I'm... I'm sorry, honey," Al choked. "Nothing's the matter." He was just beginning to realize what was going on. Somehow, something Sam did during his last leap had affected more than just Trudy. Somehow Sam had changed Al's whole life, and Al was determined to figure out how, even if he came off sounding like an idiot. "I just don't understand what's going on, Beth." "What do you mean? What's going on?" "We're not supposed..." He broke off. Perhaps it would be better to approach this from another direction. "How much do you know about Sam and the Project?" "Are you serious?" Beth asked in disbelief. "Just tell me what you know," Al pleaded. "As much as anyone on the medical staff knows." "Medical staff?" "I'm the head nurse. You know that. Al, are you sure you're all right?" "No," Al admitted, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not sure of anything anymore." He hugged Beth again. "Let's just remember this moment forever." Beth didn't seem to see anything wrong in this timeline, but Al did. Whatever or whoever kept Sam leaping around in time had somehow allowed history to be changed, and didn't bother telling the Observer. "All right, Al, what's going on?" Beth's patience was beginning to run out. "I'm sorry, Beth, but to tell you the truth, I don't know what's going on. I think... I think Sam changed history." "Of course he changed history, Al. Sam always changes history in his leaps. What's so unusual about that?" "But this time, he changed my history. He..." Al broke off, unsure of what else to say. "What happened? What did he do?" Beth was growing more and more worried about her husband. She had never seen him act this way, never. A sudden thought struck Al. "Trudy?" he asked, unsure of any response he might receive. "What about Trudy?" Beth asked cautiously. "Where is she? What happened to her?" Al was inexplicably in a near panic. He never had bothered to check Trudy's history after Sam's leap, he hadn't wanted to know. But that leap had changed more than Trudy's life, and Al had to know everything that happened. "Relax, Al," Beth comforted. "I want you to get some rest, and I'll call a doctor." As she got up to go to the phone, Al grabbed her arm and stopped her. "No, Beth, I don't need a doctor. I just need you to answer some questions for me, no matter how strange they may seem." "*Please* tell me what's going on, Al. You're scaring me." Beth was nearly in tears at this point. "Don't cry, Beth, please don't," Al pleaded. "I don't expect you to understand what's going on because, frankly, I don't understand what's going on myself. But I do know that things are different for me now than when I woke up this morning, and I don't know how long things will be like this. I want to make the most of the time we have together." He paused to consider how he probably sounded and sighed. "Beth, honey, if I'm not making much sense, then, I'm really sorry. I don't know how to explain any of this." And for the time being, he didn't try. * * * Keep Leaping... * Tracy E. Finifter + finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu + New Brunswick, N.J. * * * * "I've got a strong urge to fly, but I got nowhere to fly to." * * -- Pink Floyd, "Nobody Home" *