Al paced, as John watched him with confusion.
Bartender called Al.
That was the strangest leap Sam had ever had, and the last time Al had seen him before he leaped away, he was making all kinds of nutso statements about a bartender maybe being God.
It couldn’t be that guy, though. Could it? The guy would have to be in his seventies or eighties by now, if it was him.
Al watched Colin return to the suite, while Sam lingered at the door, making pointed eye contact, then flicked his eyeline out the door, and back. Al nodded in understanding, and pressed a button on the handlink, blinking himself from his position beside the couch, to the hall.
Sam closed the door once again, and his serious expression had turned into a smug grin.
“You thought I was going off the rails,” he said, pointing an accusing finger, “but he showed up again. Here, tonight.”
Al shifted uncomfortably, as Sam laughed; that same laugh that had unnerved him so much, back in the 1953 mining town.
“Sam…” Al said in a warning tone, but he couldn’t come up with a useful counter to Sam’s manic energy.
“Don’t you get it? This proves we’re here for a reason. Maybe several reasons.” He gave a relieved sigh, as if his burdens had just lost their crushing weight.
“How do you know it was the same guy?” Al asked, trying to inject a little doubt into the strange situation.
“Middle aged, moustache, tending a bar called Al’s Place? Al, it’s the same guy. I feel it in my gut.” Sam leaned against the wall, and let himself slide to the floor, just as John had done some days before at Caltech. He looked up at Al.
“As soon as I started talking to Colin, I remembered everything about that leap, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. Then, he became more subdued, and patted the floor beside him.
“Sit. I need to talk to you.”
Al was glad he’d settled a bit, but the new tone unnerved him just as much, if he was being honest. He obliged Sam’s request, sitting on the floor; but the wall, being a hologram to him, provided no back rest, so he had to support himself with an arm.
“What’s eating you, pal?”
“That bartender gave me a choice, and it was both the hardest and easiest decision I’ve ever made.” Sam was looking at him with a bittersweet smile.
Al felt he maybe knew where this was going, but opted to play his cards close to his chest.
“Go on…”
“I could have gone home, right then. But there was something I had to do.”
He could have gone home? That was a new piece of the puzzle. Al kept his best poker face, knowing there was more.
“It’s about Beth…” Sam said, and appeared to struggle to form his next words. Al gave him a smile.
“I know, Sam.”
Sam stiffened. “You do?”
He raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “A mysterious stranger appears to my wife like some kind of angel and you think I wouldn’t connect the dots eventually?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Sam’s cheeks were flushing.
Al shifted positions, allowing the arm that had been supporting him some rest.
“Not to mention, I had some residual memories that prompted me to get a full report out of Ziggy.”
He puffed his cigar, thinking about the shards of memories of ogling women, and one-night-stands, that plagued him, even now. Every time he saw Tina, he had a clear image of what she looked like under those skimpy clothes, even though there was no time he actually should have seen her that way.
“Imagine my jaw hitting the floor when I found out I’d been married five times in the old timeline,” he said with a snort. “I’m grateful for what you did.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Sam said. “I didn’t even remember what I did until tonight, but I’m relieved I finally got a chance to talk to you about it.”
“And you’re telling me you gave up your chance to go home to keep my marriage intact?” Al eyed him, incredulous.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Sam smiled at him. “You deserved a chance at happiness.”
“In exchange for yours?”
“One thing that bartender told me, back then, is that I’m only doing this as long as I want to.” Sam gazed into Al’s eyes. “Every time I leap now, I ask myself: would I rather go home, or help someone else? The answer’s always the same.”
Al broke from his eye contact, and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t argue with that. Sam was the ultimate helper. He could scarcely think of a more appropriate person to be doing this job. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t pretty beat up about this. Didn’t Sam deserve a life of his own?
He felt he’d better tell Donna about this conversation.
“But, there’s something else he said to me,” Sam continued. “He said that I can take a ‘sabbatical.’ I’m still not sure what he had in mind, but once I get back to my correct Earth, maybe it would be a good time for that.”
He gave his eyes a rub. “I’m burning the candle at both ends right now. Could really use a break.”
Al perked up. “You mean you might come home?”
“I don’t know. Maybe home, maybe something I don’t expect. God or Fate or Time is fickle that way. But, however it presents, it won’t be permanent.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Al said, with a grin.
* * *
Maggie experienced the next few days as an amorphous blur, only catching the day of the week, or time, in snippets of conversation that went on around her, as she languished in the hotel room. She spent most of her time in bed, only getting up for pressing needs such as the bathroom and water. She felt useless, and frustrated with her position in all this.
While most of the work went on at the university, she had been hearing bits and pieces after they returned, and it seemed like they were making progress.
Of course, it was entirely possible they were reserving their negativity for times when she wasn’t listening.
For the most part, she had been able to maintain a level of equilibrium with regards to her symptoms, but it was getting progressively worse, slowly but surely.
They hadn’t told her how long she had. She figured they didn’t want her panicking, which could have caused a worsening of the condition. But not knowing also had its challenges. Would she just wake up one morning and find one half of her gone? And would that be horrifying, or a relief, to whichever one of her remained?
Then, one chilly afternoon, John stayed behind when the others left. The younger Sam had barely had a chance to talk to her, and she wondered what he was doing, past the eye mask that blinded her to the room.
“Catching up on your papers?” she asked him, not knowing why else he’d be sticking around in here.
She heard his footfalls arrive at her bedside.
“Nah, I’m working on them on campus. I actually wanted to speak with you…”
“I’m not much of a conversationalist right now,” she said, with a wry smile.
“I know. And I’m told you can’t really access your memories right now, either. So feel free to kick me out of here any time.”
She felt him place something in her hand – the last joint from the stash.
“If you want me to light it, let me know.”
She smirked. “You think I’ll need this? What are you planning to talk about?”
“My brother died in Vietnam, and I hear you’re his… um, daughter…” He sounded unsure, and his voice was unsteady.
“I’m the daughter of a version of your brother,” Maggie explained. “Well, two versions, I guess. But they weren’t much different from one another.”
“Y-yeah, I know,” John stammered. “I just wanted to ask what he’s like.”
Maggie raised the joint. “Oh Lordy, light me up,” she said with a nervous sigh.
She heard the match strike, and a moment later the end of the joint was smouldering.
“That bad?” John asked nervously.
Maggie breathed in the smoke, and held it as long as her lungs would allow, before coughing it out.
“Let’s just say if my Dad saw me smoking this thing, he’d blow a fuse.”
John was silent for a little while, allowing her time to feel the effects of the drug. She was so used to her Uncle’s confidence, that hearing more or less the same voice being so uncertain was strange. And the fact he was quite a bit younger than her was not something she could get used to. It didn’t help that she’d had this eye mask on, and so hadn’t seen the young face he must have.
As the pressure on her head eased, she dared a peek out of the mask, and saw the young Sam, rubbing his hands with anxiety. He looked just as she remembered from her childhood, when he would visit during the summer. She felt like she was ten again.
“Oh, that is a weird feeling,” she said, as she pulled the mask up to sit on the top of her head.
She took another drag, as he sat down on the edge of the adjacent bed. He was looking at her with intense sadness.
“He was a real strict father,” Maggie said, continuing on from the original question. “But he loved you and Grandma a lot. Which made it all the more difficult that he didn’t show me any affection, when he showed it with his other family so freely. He had me addressing him as ‘Sir’ as long as I can remember.”
She wanted to tell him about the later years of her life with her father, but the timeline divergence wasn’t going to allow her to explore those memories.
“The service must have really changed him,” John observed. “Do you… have any good memories with him?”
Maggie thought for a time. “I guess the further back it goes, the warmer he was. I suppose there might be some good times where I can’t access the memories right now. I know he was a great brother to you.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you with my less-than-ideal upbringing.”
“That’s okay,” John said weakly. He stood from the bed, and wandered across to the couch, leaning on the back.
“I’ve been studying the calculations,” he said, and turned his gaze down on his fidgeting hands. “They suggest you only have two more days.”
Maggie felt her chest tighten. Two days was so soon. “Have they figured out how to help me?”
Sam seemed to brighten. “Yes, they’re building it right now,” he said, sheer excitement seeming to override his anxious demeanour.
“The equations they’ve all figured out, and that computer in the future giving the time travel data, I’ve never seen anything like it. You couldn’t be in better hands, I think.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, and added: “I hope that doesn’t sound self-centred, considering one of the people working on it is the other… me. It’s just been a mind-blowing week, and…”
Maggie smiled at the enthusiasm.
“That computer system built into your car; I’ve been learning so much about the future of technology, and AI. Just the CPU alone is incredible, at least to me.” He was gesturing wildly. “And that timer. God, it’s so much to process, but I just want to know everything.”
“Take it easy,” Maggie said, smiling at the exuberant mid-twenties guy, who reminded her, presently, of Quinn. “So you really think they’re gonna do it all in time? Separate me, then get everyone back to their rightful time and world?”
“Absolutely,” John said, but it wasn’t said in as certain a way as Maggie would have liked.