Date: Thu, 12 Dec 1996 22:07:56 -0800
Message-Id: <199612130607.WAA08722@dfw-ix4.ix.netcom.com>
From: lnslicer@ix.netcom.com (Laurene Slicer)
Subject: 'Twas the Night Before - Part Two

'Twas the Night Before - Part 2

   The Waiting Room was still filled with the strange visitor. The
Admiral walked to the dais where the little man sat. Al gestured for
him to scoot over a little and then jumped up to sit next to
him. "Okay, you and I have to work this out for once and for all."

   "You sure you want to?"

   Al buried his head in his hands and thought about an answer. "To be
honest, I don't think so, but what I want doesn't matter."

   "Why doesn't it matter?"

   "Sam is the one who needs the information. I'm the only one who can
get it to him. It's my job. It's what I do."

   The visitor corrected him, "It's what you've always done, Al."

   After watching the most perfect Christmas he could imagine, Al had
no need for psychoanalysis. "Listen, I'm not up for games. Why don't
you tell me what the hell is going on.  Who sent you here? Why did
they send you and how soon will you be gone?"

   The visitor laughed. "I'm sorry I've disturbed you. It wasn't my
intention. I really came to try to make things better."

   "Well, you haven't. I'm more tired now than I've been in years and
what's worse, I don't care. Please, just tell me what I need to know
so that I can do my job." The weariness in his voice, the sag of his
shoulders, the dullness in his eyes all made testament to Al's
fatigue. The only thing this leap was doing was showing him how his
life was empty. No childhood dreams of Santa, no sister to love or to
love him, no wife, no children, no best friend to toast the new year
with. Yeah, yippee. This was one wonderful leap. "Somehow or other,
you're the key to all this.  What do I have to do to get an answer?"

   The visitor didn't know how else to explain it. The answers were
all there for Al to take, but the Admiral had no idea how. "You really
are tired, aren't you?"

   With his eyes closed, Al admitted, "I was born tired. It's just
finally catching up."

   "And you don't know."

   The empty laugh got bigger, "Know what? What am I supposed to
know?"

   The visitor knew Al wanted help, but the help had to come from
inside Al. "I think you should go back to see Sam. He's in a special
time."

   "More Christmas?"

   "Yes."

   "I love Christmas, you know." It was a statement of fact. Despite
the horrors of his life in general, something about Christmas made Al
feel the world was going to be okay, even if he wasn't. "It's the best
time."

   "It will be. Go see Sam."

   Heavy steps led the Admiral back toward the Imaging Chamber. The
door slid open and he found himself with Sam again, but now back on
the first street corner they met. This time, the streets were filled
with people and traffic moved"Hi, Sam."

   "What's going on, Al? I was with my family in 1962 then all of a
sudden I'm back here and I can't leave."

   "The guy told me to come back. He just told me to come see you. "

   Across the street, a very young boy and girl walked hand in
hand. The boy was thin, small and obviously the bigger brother. He
spoke to his sister. "You wait here until I tell you to move."

   The little girl was bundled up so tight only her tiny eyes were
visible. She nodded and the boy walked toward Sam and Al. They watched
the ragamuffin approach apparently quite able to see Sam in this
time. With a determined step he marched right up into Sam's
face. "Here's the deal. I got money for you if you'll be Santa Claus
for my sister."

   "Excuse me?"

   The little boy tried to puff himself up bigger, but he was so young
it was almost laughable.  "That's my sister over there and she wants
to see Santa. The department store Santas don't like kids like
her. She's mongoloid. She's retarded and she believes this stuff about
Santa.  Since they won't see her, I figured I could buy you off."

   At last, the Admiral recognized the boy. "Aw Geez, Sam. That's me."

   Sam grabbed a quick look at the hologram, "You?"

   The boy answered, 'Yeah, me. So? You willing to talk to her?"

   His eyes were on the older edition, but he answered the Al-child,
"Sure, I'll talk to her."

   Drawing himself as tall as possible he warned, "You hurt her at all
and I'll get you.  Understand?"

   "I won't hurt her. I promise."

   The boy crossed the street to gather up the little girl.

   Sam had a million questions, but all he came up with was, "You sure
that's you?"

   "I don't want to be here." He punched the handlink, but Ziggy
remained offline and he couldn't exit the Imaging Chamber. "Great. How
the hell is this supposed to help me?"

   The realization hit Sam. "I feel it, Al. I know why I'm here."

   By now young Al was within earshot, dragging his sister behind
him. "I told you I'd find Santa. Here. You talk to him." The boy
removed the scarf from his sister's face. Her features were clearly in
keeping with those born with Down Syndrome - mongolism in the
40s. While unwrapping the girl, young Al talked to Sam. "She doesn't
talk a lot, but she knows some words. She knows her name, too."

   Sam got down on his knee and lifted the girl onto it. "Ho, ho, ho!
Merry Christmas! Can you tell me your name?"

   A slow lisping child's voice said, "Twudy." Her beautiful big eyes
grew in absolute awe. The enchantment was delightful and Sam had to
grin from ear to ear. So did both Al Calaviccis.

   Big Al looked down at his little sister, "Sam, isn't she cute?"

   The fake Santa's finger playfully touched the button nose on the
little girl. "Adorable, positively, perfectly adorable." She opened
her arms and threw them around Sam.

   The hologram vainly wished he was the one feeling the warmth of her
loving embrace, but he was glad that Trudy had someone, some adult to
hold her in the cold night. "Sam, she loves to hug people and being
hugged. Let her decide when the hug is over, okay?"

   There wasn't any need for the Admiral to make that request. Sam was
going to hold on forever if the child wanted. "You are such a good
hugger, Trudy. I think you're the best hugger I know." Her short arms
hugged even harder and Sam reveled in it. He watched Trudy's older
brother smiling, happy that his little sister was getting some
attention. "So, Trudy, who is that boy over there?"

   She ran into young Al's arms, "Allie! Allie! Allie! Twudy love
Allie!"

   "I can see that. He's a good brother, isn't he?"

   Young Al pulled away from her, "Come on, Trudy, talk to Santa." She
started to put her thumb in her mouth and Al gently pushed her hand
down, 'Be a big girl. No thumbs."

   "No tumbs, no tumbs," and she was back sitting on Sam's bended
knee. "Twudy love Santa."

   Young Al said, "Trudy loves everyone. I just wish everyone loved
her."

   The Admiral had to physically distance himself from the trio before
him. Sam brushed a snowflake from Trudy's eyebrow. "So, Trudy, tell
Santa what you want for Christmas."

   "Sam, don't. We couldn't afford anything."

   The young Al's face hardened against the reality of their
poverty. "I just wanted her to talk to you, not ask for stuff. I don't
have any money."

   Trudy didn't understand poverty or even the concept of money. She
just knew that she was sitting on Santa's lap and she could ask for a
present. "Twudy want Mama."

   Both Al's muttered under their breath, "Damn."

   There was no doubt in Sam's mind now. This was the first Christmas
the Calavicci children spent without their mother, the mother who
deserted them probably just a few days earlier. "Oh Trudy, I'm not
sure I can do that. Sometimes people go away and they don't come
back. I don't think your mother is going to come home to you." Her
eyes turned fearful and Sam held her close. "But you have a special
person who loves you so much. You have Allie. He's the best brother in
the whole world, isn't he?" She nodded fighting back tears.

   Young Al, like the older version needed some physical distance. He
quietly said, "I'm no substitute for a mother. Hell, I need one
myself."

   The maturity, the language, the deep love for his sister all belied
Al's seven years. Sam thought back on the Christmas he re-shared with
his family hours earlier and his heart broke in seeing how his best
friend had to spend holidays. "Trudy, I want you to remember
something, okay?" She tilted her head anticipating the request. "You
are a wonderful little girl and Allie loves you and I love you very
much. Can you remember that?"

   "Allie love Twudy. Santa love Twudy."

   "Good girl."

   "Twudy love Mama. Mama come home. Santa make Mama come home now."

   Sam's earlier words made no impression on the child. Her disability
let her love profoundly, but minimized her cognitive
understanding. "Sweetheart, I can't help you. Your mother is not
coming home ever."

   "Make Mama come home now!"

   Young Al took his sister's hand and pulled her off Sam. "I knew
this was a mistake. Come on, Trudy. Let's go home. Say goodnight to
Santa."

   Brushing the snow from his red velvet pants Sam stopped the boy,
'Wait, Al."

   Trudy was placed up against a building, "You don't move,
understand?" He walked back to Sam sticking his hand into his
pocket. "I didn't meant to stiff you."

   "I don't want your money. I just want to talk to you."

   Trust had to be earned and this Santa was nice enough to Trudy, but
that sure as hell didn't make Al trust him - much. "You're not some
sort of perv, are you?"

   "Perv?"

   The Admiral defined it, "Pervert, Sam. A sicko who does stuff to
kids."

   The thought disturbed Sam. "Oh, my God, no. I would never harm any
child and most certainly not you or Trudy. I just wanted to tell you
that you're going to be a very important man someday and you have to
believe me."

   "Well, if Santa says so," a sarcastic voice answered.

   "Listen, you and I both know I'm not Santa Claus."

   "No kidding."

   "Give me a chance." Sam talked to the boy as the Admiral listened
in and watched over the light of his young life, his sister. "Al, I
get feelings about people and you're going to do great things."

   "Like what?"

   "Well, I think you're going to fly a spaceship around the moon."

   "That's me, Flash Gordon."

   The little face was getting more and more recognizable as the
Admiral's. Sam laughed, "Not quite. You have greatness in you, in your
mind, in your heart. Always remember that - no matter what happens to
you in your life."

   The whole episode was far more than young Al anticipated. He was
just looking for a Santa who wouldn't turn Trudy away. "What do you
know about me?"

   The Admiral said, "Don't lie to him, Sam."

   "You're going to have some rough times in your life, but because
you are so good, you'll triumph over everything."

   The older Al scoffed, "Triumph is a little exaggerated."

   "Mister, all I wanted was for you to do the Santa thing for
Trudy. Don't make like you're my priest. I got one of those and he's
not much more help than you are." Al put seventy three cents in Sam's
hand. "Here, a deal is a deal." He walked off.

   Sam called after him, "Merry Christmas, Al! Merry Christmas,
Trudy!" With one hand in Al's, Trudy waved the other at her own
private Santa.

   The time travelers stood together watching the children cross the
street and walk into a dilapidated brownstone. "You were a tough kid."

   "Not by choice, Sam. Not by choice." He couldn't take his eyes from
the apparition of what he was. "You know, they're going home to
nothing. My father was away and my mother left a few days ago."

   "Sorry."

   "Me too, but we made it. Somehow Trudy and I got even closer
because of it. She was so excited about seeing Santa Claus. It was a
dream come true for her. That night she rocked for hours saying 'Trudy
see Santa!' Made me crazy at the time, but she was happy, really
happy."  Al laughed, "Thanks to you. I guess you found your mission."

   "If I did, then I should have leaped by now. Must be something
else." Al wrinkled up his face dreading where he knew Sam was
going. "Go back and talk to the visitor."

   "I knew you were going to say that." Al opened the Imaging Chamber
door and left his old world for the present world and yet another
encounter with whoever the guy was.

*******************************************************

   The visitor and the observer stood facing each other like
gunslingers about to draw. "Alright you, I did what you said. I went
back and all I saw was one of the worst nights in my life. Got any
more surprises for me?"

   The old elf walked toward Al, took his arm, led him to the dais and
they sat again. "You're tired and very sad. I'm sorry."

   "Yeah, well. There's nothing you can do about it."

   "Not true, but I need your help. You willing to trust me?"

   The answer was easy, He thought he was saying, "Nope," but
something inside his heart made him say, "Yes, I trust you. I don't
know why, but I do."

   "Good. I'm glad we finally have that settled." He straightened out
his hair and the Fermi suit readying himself for their
conversation. Al smiled at the sight. "Okay, Al. I have a few
questions to ask you. First, why are you here, Al? What is your
purpose in life?"

   Philosophy challenged Al. Give him hard science, things he could
see and touch. Forget this emotional, psychological crap. Things are
or aren't. It all seemed simple and people who fussed too much with it
had too much time on their hands. "I'm here because my mother got
pregnant and my purpose is to live as well as I can, hurting as few
people as I have to."

   "So, you don't know. You honestly don't know."

   "Haven't we been through this? I don't know. We've established
that. Since you seem to know, they just tell me."

   The visitor's wrinkled hand touched Al's chest lightly. "You're a
Special One."

   He looked down at the hand and shook his head. "Not me. Sam's
special, maybe, but not me. I'm just along for the ride."

   "That's not true. Yes, Sam is a Special One, but his purpose is
different. He's a Protector."

   From the way the man spoke Al figured he'd just been given the
answer, but he still didn't understand and frustration set into his
heart. "Geez, I must be getting stupid."

   The visitor sat cross-legged on the dais and faced the
Admiral. "Al, God uses people as angels, but not all people, just a
chosen few. They're called the Special Ones because they're alive on
earth when they do their work. You are a Special One."

   Al sat silently, then slapped his thighs and laughed louder and
longer than he had in weeks. "Thanks. I needed a good laugh." He
continued, but when he saw the visitor not joining in, he
stopped. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

   "You are a Special One and you have one of the most priceless
gifts. You're a Dream Painter."

   A chill crept up his spine. The words felt right, but he still
didn't understand them. "What's a Dream Painter?"

   "You give people their dreams and dreams give people hope and
life."

   "Me? No, that's Sam."

   "Sam's gift is Protector. He makes right what is wrong. Your gift
is Dream Painter. You show the possibilities in life." Al was
speechless. His head shook slightly from side to side, unwilling to
believe the words he heard. "From childhood, you have always seen the
possibilities and kept those alive. You did that for Trudy the night
you got a Santa to listen to her."

   "I just didn't want her to be sad, that's all."

   "It was the realization of a dream. You painted the possibility for
her and it happened."

   "That was nothing."

   "Try everything. Finding Santa was her dream, but she wasn't the
only one. There are many, many people who owe their happiness to you."

   "Most of them are divorce attorneys."

   "Then too, but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about Vietnam."

   "Oh yeah, holidays in Vietnam were a real treat."

   "They were atrocities and your endured them. Do you know how you
affected the men around you?"

   "All we did in Vietnam was try to stay alive. Some of us did; some
of us didn't."

   "You're a show me kind of guy, aren't you?"

   "You finally figure that out?"

   "Okay. Then I'll show you. Let's see. Do you remember a man named
Calvin Douglass?"

   Searching through his internal Rolodex Al couldn't recall the
man. "I don't think so. Why?"

   "He remembers you - every Christmas."

   The Waiting Room transformed in a flash. Al and his partner were in
the living room of a small home. It was modest, but warm. At the
kitchen table, a man and a woman played host to two children and to
those children's grandparents. They ate their Christmas dinner,
laughed and enjoyed being with each other.

   The visitor whispered to Al. "Remember him now?"

   Al looked closely at the African American man in front of him. "He
seems familiar."

   "Think about January of 1971."

   "Cham Hoi. Calvin Douglass. Now I remember. He was in bad shape."

   "You were in a cage together."

   "His leg was broken up bad."

   "Right."

   "What year is it now?"

   "!971."

   "I'm still in Nam."

   "You engineered an escape. He got out. You didn't. You need to
listen to him now."

   Calvin stood up. Standing took some time because he had an
artificial limb, a souvenir from the escape. "I want to say something
here. I look around our table and I see my parents, my beautiful wife
Beverly and her parents. I see Martin and Tonya. You are my world. I
am the luckiest man alive and I owe everything to my God and to my
friend Lieutenant Al

 Calavicci. He told me that I'd be home this Christmas, but I couldn't
figure out how." Calvin's eyes filled with tears and silently they
trailed down his face. "Somehow, Al kept all of our dreams alive. We
knew that even if we died in that hell hole, we would die with
hope. That doesn't sound like much, but it was all we had. Al did that
for all of us and he paid for it. They used to beat him terribly, but
because of him, I made it home. So did Pete Morales and Darius
Kennedy. Al didn't. Right now, I don't know if he's alive or dead." A
genuine sob of grief overwhelmed the speaker. "I pray to God to keep
Al in His hand and see him through the hell in Vietnam. I'd like us to
say a prayer for him. Without him, this dream of Christmas would have
died."

   Calvin sat back down. Nine year old Tonya reached for his
hand. Soon the entire family held hands around the table, their heads
bowed. A young boy's voice said, "I pray to the Lord that Lieutenant
Calavicci comes home soon."

   His grandmother added, "I thank God for giving my son a guardian
angel like Lieutenant Calavicci. Please Lord, see him home to his
family."

   Beverly stared at the husband she thought she had lost, "And if he
ever needs family, let him know he always has one here."

   A few more moments of silence were concluded when Calvin's father
began reciting, "Our Father, which art in heaven. . ."

   Al closed his eyes and waved his hand. "Get us out of here," and
the flash returned them to the Waiting Room. "That really lifted my
spirits."

   "I could take you to another 50 homes where similar conversations
are going on. You're the Dream Painter and the men who came home from
the camps you were in came home in better shape because of you. I got
one more to show you then I promise, I'll stop."

   "Good," and this time the flash landed them in a greasy spoon
restaurant where a Navy Admiral in his summer casuals sat across from
a fresh faced kid wearing jeans and a polo shirt.  The kid was writing
and writing in a spiral notebook with a mechanical pencil. Al smiled
finally. "I remember this. Sam was telling me about Quantum Leap."

   "Time to listen again."

   Sam was so young, but it wasn't all that long ago. He rattled on
and on about string theories and tying the ends of the string together
and folding it all up. The Admiral sat back in his chair and sipped
the coffee the waitress just poured. "Look, kid, I believe you, but
you're not going to get funded when you explain things that way."

   "Why not?"

   "You got to remember, most Fed Heads are mental midgets. They're
not going to buy this from you and without the military giving you
money, you won't be able to do it."

   Sam was crestfallen. "I can't do it?"

   "You hear, but you don't listen. That's something you're going to
have to learn to do better.  I didn't say you couldn't do it. You got
the dream and you got the science to back it up. What you need is to
explain your theory in kindergarten terms to the great minds that hand
out the cash. They don't read Feynman or Hawking. Hell, they only know
about Sagan because he was on the Tonight Show."

   "I don't talk to those people too well. They sort of scare me."

   The Admiral had to laugh at his partner. "You're talking about
traveling in time and Weitzman scares you? Yikes. You're one bizarre
scientist."

   Sam got that silly grin on his face, the one he gets when he's
solved a problem. "I know.  You can talk for me. You can be the
Administrator of the project. They like you."

   "No, they don't. It's just that I got enough stuff to blackmail
them into the next century."

   "Would you help me?"

   "I was wondering when you'd ask. You need me, kid. The Washington
wolves eat guys like you for breakfast."

   "But they won't eat YOU up. Thanks, Al. Thanks. You're the first
one to believe in me."

   "That's the easy part. Now we have to paint a picture the brain
trust can understand. Got some crayons?"

   He laughed. Sam laughed with him and the visitor laughed too. "Seen
enough?"

   "Yeah, let's go back." The Waiting Room was cold and Al shivered a
bit with a chill, but the chill was inside him.

   "Do you believe me now?"

   Pragmatist that he was Al flatly said, "I am a Dream Painter. It is
my special assignment to help people realize what their dreams are and
help them make their dreams come true. Right?"

   "Yes."

   "And I've been doing this all my life - if I'm to believe you."

   "Yes."

   "Okay. Now that I know this Dream Painter business, what am I
supposed to do about it?"

   "Now it's time to tell you why Sam leaped into me!"

   "Hallelujah! I was starting to think I'd be stuck with you
forever."

   "You will be. I am the Bringer of Belief."

   "You look like Santa Claus to me and I thought Santa brought
presents."

   "That's a myth. One that I like, mind you, but I can't possibly
bring tangible gifts to all the children in the world. If I could,
then no child would be without food, clothing and toys. My Specialness
is bringing belief to those whose belief is faltering. My job is
especially important during the holidays. People need to believe their
hearts more this time of the year." With firm resolve he added,
"You're the reason Sam and I changed places."

   The power of what was happening to him began to make him dizzy. "It
doesn't matter any more. I can't keep this up." He leaned against the
wall and slid to the Waiting Room floor. This guy had to leave. "Just
let Sam leap out of you so we can get back to normal. I'll take the
boredom over this any day. I learned my lesson."

   The man's sparkling eyes bored into the Admiral. "Al, do you
believe in me?"

   More than anything he wanted to. His belief in the project, in
getting Sam home, in himself was ebbing away quickly like a tide
destroying an elegant shoreline. Believe in things like Dream
Painters, Bringers of Belief, Protectors? None of it made
sense. Special Ones, angels on earth? He wasn't a fool and he wasn't
going to be taken. Not Al Calavicci, however his heart answered the
visitor. Did he believe in the Bringer of Belief? His gut feeling was
to say no, but out loud he said, "I don't have any reason to, but I
do."

   With an index finger waving in the air, the kind old man said,
"That's called faith. Faith is believing in things you can't prove."

   "Okay, okay, but why tell me all this? It changes nothing."

   "You have to believe. Tell me again that you believe."

   "In what?"

   "In yourself, first and foremost. Can you believe in yourself?"

   His military arrogance rose up and he declared, "I always did."

   The visitor's face took on a glow. He knew his mission
succeeded. "That's all I needed to hear. Sam's about to leap."

   "That's it?"

   "What were you expecting?"

   "Something more than that!" A magical, mystical happening occurred
in his midst. He thought some great revelation would come to him, some
moment of total enlightenment. A tossed away comment about hearing
what he needed to hear and Al was supposed to be happier with his
life. "Listen, mister, this can't be it."

   "Afraid so. Remember, miracles are present in very tiny things as
well as the immense. In fact the tiny miracles happen far more
often. Dream Painters make miracles for people all the time. So do
Protectors. Maybe it's time for you and Sam to make a miracle for
yourselves. Go see Sam."

   Anxious to find out where he was going next, Al almost ran into the
Imaging Chamber. The room spun and he found Sam sitting on the swing
on the snowy front porch of his home in Elk Ridge, Indiana. The time
traveler beamed with delight when he saw his best friend. "Al, I'm
glad you're here. This has been the best leap."

   "Weirdest doesn't mean best."

   "I'm home again, Al."

   "So I see." There was a slight look of disappointment in his
eyes. He thought maybe the miracle he wanted was going to greet him,
but instead it was the same old same old. "You know, this isn't really
your home."

   "Don't worry. I know where my home is. Stallion's Gate, New
Mexico. This just makes the time I spend leaping a little more
tolerable. Being here, seeing my family again. Now I can go on until I
get to come home."

   "That would be the best, having you back."

   Sam saw the distance in Al's eyes. "You okay?"

   The winter sky in Indiana glowed a beautiful soft blue-gray. The
peace he waited for seemed to be getting nearer, but he didn't know
why, but then he didn't care why. "Christmas is tomorrow. I like
Christmas."

   "Tomorrow? I wish I could be home."

   The Dream Painter said, "Leaping was your dream, Sam, to make
things right for people, to defend them. You're a Special One, a
Protector."

   Walking toward the setting sun, Sam watched the orange orb settle
in the darkening sky.  Snow started falling more heavily. "I want to
come home to the Project. If I ever get back, will you be there?"

   "You'd better believe it."

   Before Sam had a chance to respond, the blue leap light surrounded
him and he disappeared from sight. Al sadly walked from the Imaging
Chamber to his office. He sat in the big leather chair, put his silver
shod feet on the impressive desk, leaned back and saw the old-
fashioned analog clock announce the arrival of morning. Closing his
eyes against exhaustion he said to no one in particular, "Merry
Christmas, Sam."

   A voice sounded back, "Merry Christmas, Al." The door to his office
was open and framed in the light was a man in a Fermi suit. He wore a
Chesire cat grin and said, "Before you ask, I don't know."

   "Sam?"

    The time traveler crossed to the desk, parked himself on the
edge. Picking up a silver paper weight and peering at his somewhat
distorted reflection he said, "I believe so."

    A calm settled in Al's soul. "I believe, too, Sam."

******  THE END ******