Message-ID: <19981223011405.27793.qmail@hotmail.com>
From: "EBG Selene" <ebgselene@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Shining Star for a Lonely Heart - Chapter 3
Date: Tue, 22 Dec 1998 17:14:01 PST

Chapter 3

    Desert sunsets in Stallion Springs were beautiful sights to see indeed. 
The warm red-orange sphere would sink down into the horizon while at the 
same time stars begin to appear in the darkening sky, giving off their 
soft comforting glow.
    Donna Beckett stood out on the patio of the adobe-style home she shared 
with a husband and three year old son, feeling the last warm light of 
the day on her bare arms and face, smiling contentedly and eyes closed. 
A light desert breeze blew across the sands of the Mojave and fluttered 
Donna's floral print dress.
    Sam hadn't come home yet. Saturday evening and the man was still 
working. But could Donna blame him at all? He lost almost everything 
from the explosion three years ago. He was simply working doubly hard at 
getting it back on track. But being the loving wife, she knew there was 
more to it. It was his way to get his mind off things. Getting his mind 
off of what happened to Al. Did a guilt trip really last for three 
years? Will it last longer still? 
    Everyone has already tried to convince the physicist that it was not 
his fault that Al got hurt. But being as stubborn as his father and the 
epitome of a  boy scout, Sam kept insisting to himself that something 
could have been done to prevent the incident. But not just some thing. 
Something he himself should have done differently. It happened during a 
heated argument over something much deeper than the issue. How could he 
have possibly seen the guy with a gun? Why didn't the alarms go off 
early? Ziggy should have been monitoring the situation before it 
happened. Why didn't the confounded hybrid computer warn them?
    Too many questions. All of them were each the center of argument 
between Sam and Donna over the course of three years. It looked as if 
tonight would be another opportunity for a fight. Sam had promised his 
little boy that the two of them would spend the entire Saturday 
together. The child was three years old but with a brain that could 
comprehend young adult novels. Another Beckett prodigy which Sam had 
little time to pride himself of. Donna wasn't going to let him off easy 
tonight.
    She heard Sam's jeep pull up in their drive way from outside and turned 
at the sound. She looked at her watch. Seven thirty. Pursing her lips, 
she marched inside their small adobe-style home and opened the front 
door just in time to see Sam hopping out of the driver's seat and 
carrying a worn brown-colored briefcase. He smiled when he saw her, 
clumsily shifting the briefcase from one hand to the other as he 
approached. She returned only an angry frown.
    "Where the hell have you been all day, Sam?"
    He pulled off his sunglasses as he climbed the three steps leading up 
to the doorway where Donna stood. "I've been working, honey. I told you 
something came up and I had to leave."
    He brushed passed her, walking into their living room. She followed, 
slamming the door behind her. "You were supposed to take your son out 
today. You remember him? About two and half feet tall, brown hair, green 
eyes. Goes by the name of John Beckett."
    Sam set his briefcase down next to the couch against the front wall. He 
continued towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator as he spoke. 
"Are you upset?"
    Donna's face nearly turned red. "Actually, I was upset three hours 
ago."
    The absent minded physicist still scanned the refrigerator for 
something to his liking. "Oh, good. What's for dinner?"
    "Now I'm furious!" She forcefully slammed the refrigerator's door, 
catching one of Sam's fingers as he pulled out of the way. He yelped in 
pain.
    "What's with you and slamming doors today? What's wrong?"
    "You don't have any idea what's wrong! That's what. Our little boy has 
been in his room all day, crying his eyes out because his father broke 
his promise to him. Again!"
    Donna's yelling was heard from the other side of the house where 
Johnny's room was. The three-year-old waddled out to the kitchen where 
his parents were arguing again. "Mommy?" He said in his tiny voice. 
    The child's interruption was enough to obtain silence from both adults. 
Both Donna and Sam turned their gaze towards him.
    Sam took two steps toward the toddler. "Johnny, I..."
    "Come on, Johnny." Donna put in quickly, picking the boy up and 
carrying him back into his room. "You're going to spend the night at 
Uncle Al's."
    The statement quickly caught Sam's attention, having no choice but to 
follow her to defend himself. "What did you say? You can't be serious." 
His wife had already gotten a small dinosaur duffel bag, stuffing 
Johnny's small sized clothes in it as he spoke.
    "I am very serious, Sam. And until you straighten up your act, he's 
going to stay there." She went back to John's dresser to pick out more 
clothes. The boy went back to the duffel bag on his bed with an armful 
of toys.
    "Straighten up what act? I had to work! What was I supposed to do?" Sam 
argued. Donna slammed her hands down on the dresser.
    "That project can run itself for one day, Sam! You owe it to John to 
spend a little time with him." Grabbing another pair of jeans and some 
striped shirts, she stomped back over to bed covered in dinosaurs just 
in time to catch her son pulling out all of the clothes from the bag and 
stuffing it with toys instead. Donna promptly put back all of the 
clothes in place of the toys once more.
    "So, I'm here now. Hey, Johnny, what do you say we play a game?"
    The boy protested outwardly and quite bluntly. "But I wanna go to Unca 
Al's!" His mother punctuated the statement as she zipped up the bag and 
picked the boy up once more, headed for the front door.
    Sam followed her in one last desperate attempt to change her mind. The 
odds weren't looking good in his case. "Donna you can't take him over 
there! John could get hurt....." He immediately regretted what he had 
said. But what was said couldn't be taken back. It hurt. How could he 
say that about his best friend? The man was a paraplegic, not a serial 
killer. But in Sam's mind, that was exactly the problem.
    The door was open and she was ready to step out when what Sam had said 
finally sunk in. She turned to him, narrowing her eyes, her voice 
dangerously low. "For the passed three years," she began slowly and 
steadily, "Al has been more of a father to John than you have."

    Carlie had locked herself up in "her" room since they arrived at Al's 
home. She looked around the four walls with a look on her face that 
would make someone think she was about to puke. The room was covered in 
dinosaurs. The _bed_ was covered in dinosaurs. What? Was the guy 
expecting a boy and got a girl instead? But besides the wallpaper and 
bed sheets being adorned with prehistoric reptiles, the room lacked any 
other furnishings. A small wooden night table stood on the right side of 
the bed. On it was a stegosaurus lamp which put a look of disgust on 
Carlie's face.
    She hated dinosaurs. The Crip was expecting her to sleep here!? Just 
looking at it was enough to make her decide for certain that she wasn't 
going to stay there. Whether she was eighteen or not Carlie was 
determined to leave the place as soon as she could. But she wasn't 
stupid. She knew she'd have to be prepared with clothes, food, money. If 
she was lucky, she may be able to get her hands on a vehicle. A friend 
of hers back in Brooklyn taught her how to ride a motorcycle. All she 
had to do was go peeking around the neighborhood.
    Until the time came to bolt for freedom, though, the meantime would 
have to be spent in a cripple's home. With a heavy sigh, she opened up 
her backpack revealing a comp book and a laptop computer. She reached 
for the comp book and a pen in a smaller compartment on the pack and 
started writing. 
    After a few paragraphs were written on the college ruled paper, a soft 
knock on her bedroom door made her look up from her book before 
realizing who it was on the other side. She kept writing.
    "Carlie, listen." Said the gravel-voiced admiral. "Dinner's ready if 
your hungry. You can come out when your ready to."
    Her face remained stoic as she continued writing in her comp book, 
sitting Indian style on the bed decorated with pictures of ancient 
thunder lizards.
    Al waited for an answer and noticed that she wasn't going to do such a 
ridiculous thing as that. After a brief moment he added, "You know, a 
simple 'thank you' or 'no, thank you' would suffice." She still said 
nothing in reply. "Would you give me some sign of life in there so I 
don't have to call the paramedics?"
    She slapped her pen in her lap and yelled, "Go to hell!"
    Al rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, "Cute." He got what he 
asked for. A reply. That was about as far as it was going to go. He 
understood, so he left her alone. 

    Donna pulled her mini van up into Al's driveway, two streets away from 
the Beckett home, and parked next to the Admiral's car. Johnny was 
squirming in the back seat as she made her way around the car to open 
the sliding door. She unbuckled him from the child seat, gathered her 
son and the duffel bag in her arms and hurried to the door. 
She adjusted her hold on the toddler to clutch both him and the bag with 
the same hand and arm and knocked repeatedly with her free hand. 
    Al's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "Okay, okay. 
I'm coming. Hold your horses." He swung open the door and a small grin 
spread on his face. "Donna. And Johnny. What a ....." but before he 
could say anything else, the kid landed in his arms. It's not as if Al 
minded. The grin turned into a smile as he looked into the little one's 
hazel eyes. "How ya doin', kiddo?"
    Johnny wiggled excitedly on his uncle's lap, clapping his hands. "Unca 
Al!"
    "I need you to do me a favor, Al." Donna said. 
    Al looked at her knowingly and shook his head. "Another favor, huh? 
That's the third time in the same month. I'm starting to worry about you 
two."
    Donna forced a smile, rubbing away the goose bumps on her arms that had 
more to do with just the evening desert chill. "Yeah," she whispered, "I 
know. It'll have to be for a few more days this time though, Al. I've 
got to get through to him."
    Johnny had managed to squirm out of Al's arms and onto the floor to go 
into his second bedroom. Al let him go, giving Donna his attention. 
"He'll come around. He's got to one of these days. Your husband can be 
worse than me sometimes." He attempted a smile for her reassurance but 
the look she gave him wiped it right off his face. "Hey, sugar," he 
gently took her hand and patted it, "don't worry. Things'll work out."
    The physicist's wife let out a shaky breath and nodded. "I hope so."
    Suddenly, Johnny screamed and came running back to where Al and Donna 
were, panting, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" He hugged her leg tightly, hiding 
his face in her dress. 
    Carlie soon followed, arms straight down her sides and her footsteps 
loudly made as she came into the living room. "Where the hell did the 
runt come from? I thought you......" She looked to see Donna standing in 
the doorway, the blonde-haired three-year-old grasping the woman's leg 
with a death grip. "Who's the skirt?"
    Al turned his chair to face her, raising an eyebrow in annoyance to 
Carlie's choice in words. "Finally decided to talk, huh?"
Carlie gave him a look. "Can it."
Al grinned again. "This is Donna Beckett. She's a friend of mine. The 
kid's her son, John."
    Donna was as equally surprised as Carlie was. She squinted her eyes at 
Al and furrowed her brow. "'Who's the skirt?'"
    The girl approached Donna with a look of defiance on her face. "Yeah, 
you know. The babe. Betty. Broad. Chick. Dame. Dish." She said each 
nickname with a snap of her fingers and an exaggeration of her Brooklyn 
accent.
    "Carlie!"
    She ignored Al and pointed at Donna confidently. "In this case: You."
    By this time, Donna had definitely determined that the girl was a 
teenager. But that didn't stop the flush of anger she felt warm her 
cheeks. "Young lady, I don't know who you think you are but I believe I 
deserve a little respect."
    "No kidding!" Al added, then said to Donna. "I apologize for my niece. 
She just arrived from New York today and....."
    "Your niece?"
    "Yeah. Didn't I tell you?"
    "Ever hear of a phone? You pick it up and use it."
    "Well, it turned out that....."
    But Donna interrupted with a cut off sign in the air. "No, not now. 
I've got to go. I hate to leave Johnny here if you have company," she 
pried her son from her leg and set him back down on Al's lap, "but I 
don't want him around with me and Sam fighting again. You understand. 
Oh! And here's John's clothes." She dropped the bag just inside the 
door. "Take care of him." She bent down and gave both Al and Johnny a 
kiss on the cheek and shot Carlie a look that could make hell freeze 
over before driving back to her own house.
    "So much for formal introductions." Al muttered as he closed the door, 
holding the boy protectively on his lap as he did so. "Carlie, let's get 
this straight once, alright? You can call me crip all you want but you 
will not talk to my friends that way! Do you hear me?"
    His niece crossed her arms and huffed, "How can't I? You're nearly 
screamin' in my ear!"
    "I'm not kidding!"
    She balled her hands up into fists and plastered her arms back down her 
sides, yelling back at him. "What are you going to do, you numb-nutted 
freak? Hit me?"
    Al finally realized that there was more to the girl's attitude than 
what was being displayed. All Carlie seems to want to do is start a 
fight. It was probably the only thing she knew how to do without making 
herself seem like she was lousing up, Al thought.
    When he said nothing in reply to her demanding question, she threw her 
arms up in the air and went back to her room, slamming the door. To 
Johnny, it seemed like there was nothing left to do but fight and Al 
nearly forgot that the boy was on his lap.
    The poor kid was curled up in Al's lap, burying himself into his chest 
with his hands firmly clasping his ears and eyes shut tight. The sight 
of Johnny scrunched up in a ball like he was made Al's mouth curl into a 
half smile. He could have sworn the little boy looked like a rump roast 
with hair. But all joking aside, another fight was the last thing John 
needed to be put in the middle of. Realizing this, Al lifted his nephew 
with his arms and embraced his tiny body.
    "Aw, I'm sorry, little guy." Al soothed as best he could with his 
graveled tone. He pulled away slightly and gazed into his Godson's puppy 
dog eyes. The little boy whimpered a bit and rubbed his eyes with a 
fist, indicating sleepiness. Al ruffled Johnny's hair. "You tired?" John 
nodded. "How about we put you on the couch until it's time for dinner?" 
Little Beckett nodded again but soon pinched his nose and scrunched his 
face. "Something smells yucky!"
    The stench wasn't lost on Al. As quickly as he could, he set John back 
down onto the floor and sped into the kitchen, opening up the oven and 
pulling out something that used to be a roast. Now it looked more like a 
large lump of charcoal and the odor was beyond belief. 
    Al groaned. "So much for dinner." 
    Johnny waddled in after his adopted uncle and stood by his left wheel, 
still pinching his nose. "Eew."
    "No kidding. So, Johnny, whaddya say we order in?"
    John released his nose with a big smile and declared, "Pizza!"

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