Date: Wed, 9 Jun 93 11:23:24 EDT From: Tracy Finifter To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: "A New Face to Reality" Part 9 Message-Id: "A New Face to Reality" by Tracy E. Finifter Part 9 "Tom! Sam! Girls! Lunch is ready!" Sandy called from the kitchen. Sam stepped out of the guest room. "Sam and the girls are outside. I'll go get them." "Thanks, Tom," Sandy replied as she set the plates down on the kitchen table. Lunch was passing relatively peacefully with not much more than polite conversation. Bingo started informing the family on the activities of Katie and their mother and Sam noted to himself with relief that at least some of the memories he had of his family had not been totally invalidated. "So anyway," Bingo continued, "You should see how little Johnny's been growing, Tom. He's like a weed." "Really?" Sam said. "He's about the same age as Karen, isn't he?" "Oh, yeah," Bingo answered, a little confused by the question. "They're only two months apart. You know that, Tom." "Yeah, well, it just slipped my mind, that's all," Sam covered. "Are you okay, Tom?" "Why do you ask?" "It's just," Bingo said with hesitation, "you don't seem quite yourself today. Has something been bothering you?" Sandy looked to her brother-in-law and then to her 'husband' with a mixture of fear and concern in her eyes. She apparently agreed with Sam that it wasn't necessary to burden her brother-in-law with Tom's problems. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry, but it's like I said before, I just didn't get much sleep last night." Bingo looked at Sam through narrowed eyes, not fully satisfied with the explanation, but not willing to press the subject further. "Well," he finally said, "that was a terrific lunch, Sandy. Let me help you clean up." "Nonsense," Sandy countered, pulling the dirty plate out of Bingo's hands. "You spend some time with your nieces and relax. You're on vacation." "Yes, ma'am," Bingo agreed and turned towards the girls. "Come on, troops, let's go back outside." "Tom?" Sandy inquired after Bingo and the girls had gone. "Huh?" Sam had just realized that he had been staring into space. "I know what today is," Sandy said quietly. "What do you mean?" Sam asked. "It's your... anniversary," she answered as if he had known. "You haven't let a year go by with out becoming totally morbid on this day. And, well, this year's the tenth." Sam finally realized what Sandy was talking about, at least partially. He wondered just how much Tom had told her about April 8, 1970, not to mention exactly what Tom had gotten out of his experiences on that day. She continued. "You didn't die over there, and you can't let the demons keep eating away at you. You're only going to destroy yourself. And then would their fates have had any meaning at all?" Sam had thought he had known what Sandy was talking about, but the shift in direction of her speech set him once again into confusion. Sandy sighed, and got up to finish cleaning the kitchen. "Go," she commanded. "Spend some time with your family," she turned back to face him, "and remember why you risked your life over there." Sam gazed into her gray eyes. Despite his confusion, something about what she said touched something inside him. She was right in more ways than she knew. Sam risked his life by leaping, put himself in danger willingly, so that families such as Tom's could have a second chance. He gave her a light kiss on the lips. "You're right." He joined Bingo, Rachel, and Karen outside to find them tossing a Nerf ball. Upon noticing Sam's arrival, Bingo tossed the ball in his direction. "Heads up, Tom!" Sam barely managed to react in time and nearly dropped the ball. The girls just chuckled while Bingo shot a concerned glance over to Sam. "Something wrong?" Bingo asked. Sam wasn't surprised that his younger self recognized when he was deep in thought. "It's nothing, Sam," Sam said. "I'm just a little distracted." "Uh-huh." Bingo turned his attention back to the girls. "Why don't you girls go inside and take a nap. You're starting to look tired." "Aww, Uncle Sam. Do we have to?" Rachel protested. "Yes, you do. Besides, I want to talk to your dad for a while." Karen's eyes widened suddenly. "Daddy? Where's Daddy?" "You're daddy's right there," Bingo replied, confused by the little girl's behavior. "That's not Daddy," Rachel informed. "That's also Uncle Sam." She then took Karen's hand and led her back into the house. Sam sighed. No way was he going to be able to explain himself out of this one. "Jeez, Tom, what is up with your kids?" Bingo asked lightheartedly. "Beats me," Sam replied. Bingo shrugged. Sam then watched with curiosity as he went into the garage, only to reemerge seconds later bouncing a basketball. "Come on, Tom." "Sam..." Sam started. He really wasn't in any mood to play basketball. "And I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," Bingo replied and threw the ball to Sam with a strong chest-pass. Sam reluctantly started over towards the net in the driveway, dribbling the ball slowly as he did. "Remember when we were kids?" Bingo asked. "Whenever I had a problem, or something was bothering me, and I didn't want to talk about it, you'd always manage to coax it out of me during a game of one-on-one." Sam smiled at the memory. Tom had always had a special talent of being able to get Sam to bear his soul to him while at the same time stealing the ball for an effortless lay-up. "So what now, turning the tables on me?" Sam quipped. "You could say that," Bingo offered. "Perhaps." "Uh-uh," Bingo said, taking Sam's statement the wrong way. "I'm not going to let you worm your way out of this. You never let me." Another small smile tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth. "Well, if you insist." And with that, he suddenly started with a fierce run to the basket, breezing by Bingo and nailing the lay-up. "Hey, no fair!" Bingo protested. "All's fair..." Sam started, and suddenly cut himself off. It was the wrong expression to use. He took a deep breath and relaxed. He was finally starting to allow himself to feel comfortable during this leap, and it was a well-needed respite. The last thing he needed was another reminder. Catching the ball from under the basket, Bingo took it back to the foul line. "So," he said casually, "what's been eating you?" "Listen, Sam, it's not something I can talk about. Not really." "Come on, Tom," Bingo said as he started his run for the net. "You know you can talk to me about anything." Talking proved to be too much of a distraction for the younger Sam as the time-traveler easily stole the ball away and scored another basket. "You should spend more time concentrating on the ball and less time chatting," Sam offered. "Thanks," Young Sam muttered, once again taking the ball to the foul line, "but you still haven't answered my question." "Sam, I haven't seen you in a long time, and let's not spoil our time together, okay?" Sam could feel the tension in his voice rise, if only slightly. He took a deep breath. "Let's just relax. Now come on, just try to get a basket on me." "It's about Vietnam, isn't it?" The observation made Sam stop in his tracks even though Bingo's insight didn't surprise him. "Sort of," he admitted. "That's right. Today's April the 8th. Gee, Tom, I'm sorry I brought it up, but you know what this day is like for you. I just don't like seeing my big brother, well, torn up like this." "Thanks, Sam, but it's really something I have to deal with in my own way and in my own time." It was the truth. The leap to Vietnam, and everything that went with it, was just another part of the problems he currently faced. However, his mind was still too fresh on his earlier conversation with Al to allow other problems to be brought up. "You know, I never said you were going to die on April the 8th," Bingo said, a touch of regret in his voice. It was as if he was apologizing for something he knew he wasn't responsible for. Sam swallowed, and looked down, now sorry that he had ever told Tom that during his leap home. "Yeah, Sam, I know," he said quietly. "I wish I could do more for you, Tom, I really do. But I'm off researching most of the time and Mom and Katie are half a world away... I just wish I could be with you more to just talk, like we used to when we were kids. That's why I want to talk now, while we have the chance." Bingo's voice was tinged with regret. If you only knew, Sam thought, then shook the thought off. It wasn't Bingo's fault, or Mom's, or Katie's, or Tom's even. Things, both leaping and otherwise, had gone totally beyond any of their control. "It's like I said before, what's been bothering me isn't something I can really talk about, even if I wanted to. Besides, there's no sense in my bothering you with my problems." "It wouldn't be bothering me, Tom. I may not have a degree in psychology, but I would like to help you." Sam stepped up to his younger alter-ego and wrapped his arms around him. He chastised himself mentally for doing exactly the same thing Tom had done in this situation: shutting his family out. But for now, the knowledge that his younger self would be able to grow up with the brother he loved made him feel infinitely better, never mind that he still didn't retain any memories of Tom from after the war. The man whom everybody in this timeline called Sam Beckett was another person who was now spared the grief the time-traveler had gone through. But unless Sam could figure out his mission and save Tom from his self-destructive fate, this Sam would also lose his brother. And he had to do this without letting on the whole truth of the situation. "All right now," Sam said, breaking the hug after a few long seconds. "I believe I'm beating you three nothing." "Um, that's two nothing and not for long." Bingo tried to drive the ball down the center, but Sam blocked him easily. Bingo then took the ball towards the outside and came around to the side of the key. He jumped, sticking his free arm in Sam's face, and nailed a picture perfect hook shot, the same one that the time-traveler had used to with the game against Bentlyville. Nothing more of problems or Vietnam was talked about for the rest of the day. Sam simply did his best to enjoy his family's company. That included a nice dinner in Norfolk and a sunset boat ride on the Chesapeake. But as the evening drew to a close, Sam was afraid to go to sleep, afraid that once again, violent memories would be his wake-up call. * * * * Tracy Finifter | "Life is what happens to you while * * finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu | your busy making other plans." * * Douglass College, Rutgers University | - John Lennon *