Date: Fri, 13 Jun 1997 19:04:17 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Choices - Chapter 1 Message-ID: Choices by Katherine R. Freymuth Chapter 1 July 17, 2006 It wasn't often that Al Calavicci wore his black dress uniform but he found that, as he grew older, he was wearing it more and more often, reminding him that one day there would be people wearing dress blacks for him. He hated funerals for just that reason. Funerals not only reminded him of his own mortality - something he had come to grips with a long time ago - but also that he was no longer a spry forty year old but rather an aging seventy-two year old. Normally, thoughts of his age didn't bother him but, as he attended the funeral of a forty-eight year old man, he now was seriously considering the issue. His wife, Dr. Beth Calavicci, Cpt., USN, took his hand gently. She, too, was dressed in her black uniform. She didn't need a lot to sense Al's thoughts and she knew how deeply affected Al was by the death of their friend, Alex Hathorn. She remembered the sight of Al sitting by the hospital bed day in and day out for four months, Alex's frail form lying in the bed. It was time for Al to make a eulogy for his departed friend. He gently squeezed Beth's hand before straightening his uniform jacket and walking up to the podium. He took a breath and looked at his fellow mourners. Most of the faces he saw he knew well: Dr. Gushie F. Conelf and his wife Tina, Dr. Verbina Beeks, Dr. Donna Elesee. He took another breath. "Alex Hathorn was one of the kindest people I've even had the pleasure of calling my friend. Although he kept most of his personal feelings to himself, he never hesitated to be there for his friends and co-workers. He believed he was placed on this earth to do good - and that is precisely what he has done. There isn't one of us here who hasn't been positively touched by him, who hasn't had the pleasure of hearing one of his wry jokes, or who hasn't enjoyed his company." He paused. "We'll miss you, Alex," he said softly before returning to his wife, who gave him a comforting hug. When the ceremony was finally over, Beth and Al slowly walked away from the small stone monument in which Alex's ashes had been permanently placed. Al wrapped his arm around Beth's shoulders, giving her consolation. Alex had believed in reincarnation. Both Al and Beth hoped that his beliefs wouldn't fail him. "Admiral Calavicci?" a voice asked for recognition as Al led Beth to their car. Al looked in the direction of the voice to see a tall man with curly brown hair standing beside Al's and Beth's car. AL instantly had a bad feeling about the man. The man, seeing that Al reacted to the name, approached Al, extending his hand. "Dana Aptheker, World Wide News. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions." Al frowned. "This isn't the time or the place, Mr. Aptheker," he told the reporter politely. Aptheker stepped towards him. "I do appreciate you grief. I am sorry for your loss. However, I was hoping you could shed some light on Dr. Samuel Beckett's redisappearance last spring. I understand you two are very close." Al glowered at the man as he moved past him to help Beth into the car. "Sorry," he said with a glare. "Can't help you." He started getting into the car. "Can't? Or won't?" Aptheker asked pointedly. "Isn't it true that you and your wife were in a bar arguing about Dr. Beckett on the day he disappeared? You argued about him not ccoming home. What did you mean by that, Admiral?" Al stopped as he was putting his keys into the ignitions switch. He frowned strongly. Beth looked at her husband with concern. She instantly recognized the look on his face and knew what he was going to do. "Al, don't," she warned as Al stepped out of the car and approached Aptheker. "Where did you hear that story?" Al questioned in a dangerously low voice. "I have four witnesses who have heard you say - and I quote - 'Who knows where or when he is' and 'He could've come home if he wanted to'." Aptheker smiled victoriously. "What did you mean by that, Admiral? Where is Dr. Beckett?" Al slowly walked to Aptheker, glaring at him. "Listen, Mr. Aptheker. Neither I nor my wife nor anyone we know knows where Sam Beckett is. Now, I suggest that you drop this pointless line of investigation and let us who care about Sam worry about where he is." "Don't you also mean 'when'?" Aptheker pushed. Al could no longer control his temper. He grabbed Aptheker by the lapels and forced him against a nearby tree. Beth jumped out of the car upon Al's actions. "Al!" she said warningly. "Now, listen, Aptheker!" Al told the reporters. "I've had a very bad year. One of my best friends has disappeared from the face of the earth and I've just attended the funeral of another. This isn't a good time for you to mess with me." He lowered his eyes with contempt. "Don't bother me, my wife, or any of my friends again. Is that understood?" Aptheker glared at Al in return. "Apparently, you don't know who I am." "Oh, I know who are," Al said firmly. "You're the asshole who, six years ago, tarnished the reputation of another friend of mine by printing false stories about him in your tabloid.! Remember Admiral William Fairbanks? I believe you had a lot of apologizing to do his widow and the Navy." "Why was Admiral Fairbanks murdered anyway? It wasn't a random act of malicious violence like the official report says." Al raised Aptheker off his feet and slammed his back against the tree again. "I'm warning you, Aptheker. Drop it." "Or what?" the reporter demanded. Al released the reporter's lapels, causing him to drop to the ground. "You don't want to know," he told Aptheker firmly before returning to the car and getting in. He drove away, ignoring Aptheker's threats of suing for assault. "Al," Beth said gently, trying to gain her husband's attention. Al was sitting on a couch in their home in Stallion Springs, New Mexico, staring at the pictures on the mantle of their decorative fireplace. He didn't hear Beth's beckon. "Al," she repeated, going over and sitting beside him. She took his hand and held it gently, finally causing Al to divert his attention from the pictures and look at his wife. "You shouldn't have lost your temper with that reporter." Al huffed slightly, standing up and walking to the mantle. "It only made him more suspicious," Beth told him. Al exhaled. "It wouldn't have made any difference if I hadn't. He still would go digging around, putting his nose where it doesn't belong." He paused. "He's the one who wrote that Bill was having extra-marital affairs." Beth nodded slowly. "Yes, I know. I remember." "He doesn't give a damn about people," Al muttered. "All he cares about is his deadline." He exhaled. "I don't want Sam or anyone else to be dragged through the mud the way he dragged Bill and Nancy." He looked at Beth. "If beating a little sense into that asshole's head will stop him from destroying another friend's reputation, you'd better believe I'm going to do it." Beth walked over to him and touched his shoulder. "It's the argument in the bar, isn't it? You're afraid that you might have compromised the project's security." Al shook his head slightly. "I didn't think so before but, after what Aptheker said, I'm not so sure now." He took a deep breath. "I just want these damned reporters to lay off of us. It's almost impossible to leave the house without being confronted." He paused. "And what if I did compromise the project? What if he has enough to expose us?" "He can't have enough," Beth assured him. "What he has about our argument is heresay and it's certainly not enough to expose the project. We can always say we were talking about someone else." Al looked at Beth. "That wouldn't stop him," he told her. "Maybe not," Beth told him. "But all he has now is that someone says that you said some strange things when you were drunk. He doesn't even have proof that it was you." Al was silent, thinking about Beth's words. Beth walked around him so that she would be facing him. She kissed him gently on his left cheek. "Why don't you get some rest?" she told him softly. She gently ran her right hand through his hair. "You're exhausted." Al closed his eyes and sighed. Her hand felt good in his hair. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, making his head a little light. He wanted a lot more than her hand in his hair and the scent of her perfume at that moment. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. There was genuine concern in her eyes - the kind of concern that told al that, if he didn't follow his wife's advice, she would become his doctor and order him to bed. "I am a little tired," he consented, though he knew the word 'exhausted' did better to describe his condition. "I think I will get some sleep." He nkissed his wife gently on the lips before heading for their bedroom. Beth watched as he entered the room slowly. She noticed that he left the door open, and invitation for her to join him. She smiled slightly, more in sympathy than in actual happiness. She knew he needed her just to be with him - nothing sexual, just intimacy and love. He needed an anchor in the feel of her skin against his. She slowly followed him into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. Chapter 2 coming soon :) Katherine Freymuth