From: kitkin@aol.com (Kitkin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative
Subject: WHATEVER IT TAKES 6/9
Date: 10 Jun 1996 12:15:11 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Message-Id: <4phhmf$lpk@newsbf02.news.aol.com>

WHATEVER IT TAKES PART 6

   "You said, that a man's gotta learn to deal with his problems,
but what about a kid?" The bartender asked. Al shifted his eyes
toward the man, then resumed his silent gaze out the window as
he smoked.
    "A kid whose mother ran away with an encyclopedia
salesman, or whose sister died in a mental hospital." Al closed
his eyes against these unbearable memories, as the bartender
continued.
    "Or, when the kid was only 11 years old, and his father died of
cancer." This was the statement that hit a nerve. Al turned
around explosively, and with the pain of that moment still burning
in his eyes, he shouted,"Yeah! What about that little incident?!!
You seem to KNOW so much about me!" Al's tone now began to
drip with bitter sarcasm as he resumed his tirade."Of course you
do, YOUR GOD! Then why the hell didn't you answer my
prayers?"
   The bartender never flinched an eyelash the whole time, then,
when he was sure Al was finished, he said,"I never said I was
God."
   Exasperated, Al threw his hands up, and then turned back
around to look out the window once more. He felt the man's
hand again on his shoulder, but did nothing. He was trying to
regain his composure and so, concentrated on his smoke rings
instead.
  "Tell me Al,did your father say to you, Son, pray for me to be all
right," he paused briefly, "or did he tell you, Everything will BE all
right if you pray for me?" Al knew in his heart, that it was indeed
the latter, but with a tiny shrug, mumbled instead, "What's the
difference?"
   "Don't you see Al," the bartender began softly," everybody's
got to die sometime. Your dad knew that. He wanted you to pray
for his soul, not his body." The bartender's hand squeezed Al's
shoulder gently,"He's in good hands Al because of your prayers."
    Al turned back around, to see the bartender smiling.
Searching his eyes, he found truth and compassion. He felt the
anger and bitterness melting away. Then, Al smiled a little also.
"I think I need some coffee." was all he seemed able to say for
now. "Done!" said the bartender, clapping him on the back, and
heading off to the hot plate beneath the bar.
   In no time at all, the coffee was made and poured. Looking as
if in a daydream, Al said with a wry grin, "Y'know, I think the
worst cup of coffee I ever had, was when I was sobering up."
"Well, the bartender said, lifting his coffee mug as if in a toast
,"the important thing is that you
beat it Al," He clinked the side of Al's mug with his own," you
beat it."
Al gave a little muffled snort as he smiled, looking up from his
coffee. "It was Sam who helped me beat it, did'ya know that?"
When the bartender simply smiled a knowing look, Al mumbled
into his coffee mug before taking another drink,  "Of course, how
stupid of me."   The bartender, with that perplexed look on his
face again, just gave his hearty chuckle, and shook his head.
   "You know," Al said with a fond smile," for as long as I've
known that guy, he was always helpin' out the under-dog."  The
bartender smiled, "Yep," he nodded, "and he still is."  Looking
somewhat surprised, Al said,"So he IS still out there?", he
motioned with his cigar, a vague indication of the space all
around him.
   With a small outburst of laughter, the bartender said,"Sure he
is. Where did YOU think he was Al, the bathroom?"  More good
natured laughter followed. Feeling like a man who has just
opened up the offered can of mixed nuts from a friend, only to
find colorful springy snakes popping out at him, Al
responded,"Har-de-har-har. Just what I need, a comedian." The
bartender apologized, but Al felt sure that the guy was trying
hard not to laugh again. Caustiously, Al ventured another
question. "If you can contain yourself," he said sarcastically," you
wouldn't mind clearing something up for me then,would'ya?"
   "Shoot." replied the bartender. "Don't tempt me." Al quipped, to
even the score."If Sam is still leaping around, why haven't
anymore visitors shown up back in the waiting room at the
Project?"  Before the bartender had a chance to answer, a man
walked into the bar. Still waiting for a response, Al noticed that
the bartender was watching the man's movements very carefully.
Curious now, Al began to watch as well.
   The rather fragile looking man had just barely stepped into the
bar and stopped. He looked around, not nervously exactly, but
more like one would when they come to a museum or perhaps
even a church; quiet, and careful lest he break something. He
removed his shabby hat and held it with both hands against his
chest. With a cursory glance at the other two men, he moved in
a shuffling manner to a table near the door. Once he sat down,
the bartender spoke. "Get ya something?"  Taking yet another
quick look around, the man said, "Beer?"
     "Comin' right up." said the bartender cheerfully. Al leaned
toward the bartender and whispered with a mock pained
expression,"I supposed HE gets a beer." The bartender gave Al
an equally mock expression of pity. After the bartender had
delivered the beer, he came back and sat next to Al .
   "Oh the visitors are still coming in all right," he now
replied."they just come to THIS waiting room instead." As he
finished, he gestured with his head toward the man at the
table,who was now looking out the window much the same as Al
had earlier that evening.
   Al's eyes again flew open wide, as he exclaimed in a raspy
whisper,"You mean to tell me, that's the guy Sam's leaped into?"
Turning slightly on the stool so as to hide the gesture from the
customer at the table,he made frantic leaping motions with one
of his hands as he spoke. With his other hand, he jerked a
thumb in the man's gereral direction.
   "Well," the bartender began," more precisely, this is what leaps
out, when Sam, or any other leaper for that matter, leaps in."
Questions about ghosts, spirits, souls and ' other leapers ' began
to clamour in Al's brain. But before he could voice any of them,
the bartender continued,
    "It's like this Al, we're all made up of energy, kind of a
lifeforce, if you want to think of it that way." Al listened and
hoped like hell that it would make sense for a change.  The
bartender held up both of his hands, with the fingers intertwined.
"When Sam leaps, his lifeforce splits," He now pulled his hands
apart, "not good and bad or anything like that, it just divides. Part
of it goes through time to combine with the lifeforce of whomever
he leaps into."
"And the rest of it?" Al asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
"The rest of it stays behind to be joined by the half that left the
host, when Sam leaped in." the bartender replied, as he drank
down the last of his coffee. Suddenly realizing something, Al
snapped his fingers, and said,"So that's why sometimes Sam's
personality got messed up with the other guys' !"
  "You got it," the bartender said, " but I gotta keep a close watch
on 'em now though."
"How's that?" Al questioned.
"They gradually get weaker and weaker, since this half doesn't
have the other half of Sam's energy to link up with any more."
    "What about the half of Sam that's leaping around, doesn't
he get weaker and weaker too." Al asked, thinking about
Sam's faltering life signs back at the Project.
  "Well," answered the bartender,  "Sam's half, the half that
leaps, joins up with the hosts' other half so often, that it doesn't
seem to show an effect on him.  Relieved that at least half of
Sam was o.k, he now said, "You still never told me why they
don't show up at the waiting room back at the Project any more."
   The bartender glanced back over at the customer, and said,
"They come here now instead, for the same reason Sam never
went home." Al looked intently, "And that is...?" he asked
uncertainly.
   "Sam is the only one who can decide when he CAN go home."
A snort of laughter suddenly escaped from Al, "Yeah, and I can
make you a great deal on the Brooklyn Bridge!" When Al noticed
that the bartender wasn't laughing,incredulity began to surface in
his face, "Oh c'mon, you mean to tell me that Sam can come
home anytime he wants?"
   "Now, I wouldn't put it quite THAT way." the bartender told Al
as he got up and moved behind the bar once again.He collected
his own empty mug, and then asked,"More coffee?" When Al
declined with a slight wave of his hand, the bartender gathered
up his mug as well. He carefully rinsed and dried the mugs and
stashed them under the counter. Meanwhile, Al was growing
more and more impatient.
   "Look, if you're done tidying up, could you please finish
explaining this to me!"
The bartender was wringing out a cloth, and with an embarassed
little laugh said, "Oh, sorry Al, I thought I had finished."
  "Finished!? You haven't told me a thing yet!" Al protested, as
he watched the bartender begin to wipe the bar's wooden
surface. When he came to Al's long forgotten apple-cider glass,
he picked it up and said,"Sure I have Al, remember this?" He
held the glass up for Al to see.
"Yeah, so?" Al answered, still not sure where this was leading.
"Well, what I said about this, goes for Sam as well. Sometimes
you GET what you want. What did Sam want?"  Al pondered this
a moment, and with a bewildered expression finally guessed,
"Uh....a beer?"
    The bartender folded his arms across his chest. Then he
raised both eyebrows, and cocked his head to one side. It was
clear that he was waiting for another answer. Al started to think
about Sam, asking himself,"what DID Sam really want?"
Suddenly,  with a snap of his fingers, Al said "He wanted to go
home!" The bartender licked his index finger and drew an
imaginary mark on an imaginary chalk board,and said "Al
Calavicci scores a point."He said with a smile.
   Al smiled too, but only briefly, as another thought came to
mind,  "So, why didn't he?"
The bartender went to the sink with the glass, and pouring the
liquid down the drain said, "Because sometimes, what you want,
isn't what you really need."   Exasperated, Al slumped against
the elbow he had propped on the bar."You've lost me again." he
sighed.
   The bartender continued his work at the sink, and said, "When
I asked Sam why he built Project Quantum Leap, he told me it
was so he could put right what once went wrong. We talked
about it for awhile, and I tried to explain to him that leaping was
in his control," he paused as he rinsed the glass then turned
back toward Al, and added,  "HE didn't believe me either by the
way."  Al looked up rather sheepishly, as the bartender
continued,  "Then, I asked him what he wanted to do. He said he
wanted to go home."
    Al shrugged wildly, as he said,"So, why didn't he come
home!?"
"Ahhh." said the bartender, putting his finger in the air as if to
mark the importance of what he was about to say. "I said he
WANTED to go home." Now Al looked even more confused.
Moving back to where Al was seated, the bartender answered
Al's unspoken question.  "He wanted to go home, but he
NEEDED to do something else."  Here, he looked directly at Al,
and Al knew.
...........................CONTINUED IN PART 7......................