7.12  ·  Team Beckett

“What are you gonna do now?” asked Will, as Sherri watched John returning to their corner of the bar. She opted not to bring up the kiss she’d witnessed.

“Me? Well, my mission is over. I think I’ve sacrificed enough of myself to justify retirement, don’t you?” she gestured to her eye socket, smirking.

“Retirement’s great,” Al chimed in. “Turns out you can just relax all day, and if anybody calls you lazy, you can just say you’re a war vet and they shut up about it.”

He eyed Sherri. “Nobody needs to know what you’re a veteran of. But you got the war wounds to prove it now.”

Sherri gave him a mischievous look. “Maybe we can move to Florida together and play shuffleboard.”

Al chortled. “I don’t think them geezers would be able to keep up with the two of us.”

“Sherri,” interjected John as he approached, “you do know your Dad’s here… right?”

He gestured to the far wall where Tom was alone, silently looking in their direction.

“Good for him,” she said, looking the other way, taking a nonchalant sip of her wine. The sip became a gulp, then she just turned it upside down, finishing it.

John frowned. “He’s been talking to Maggie quite a bit; I think you should give him a chance. Talk to him. This could be your last opportunity.”

Sherri ran a hand through her half-shaved hair. “I don’t know what more there is to say to him.”

“You could start with ‘hello,’” said Sam, who’d appeared beside her. She jumped, and looked between the two Sams, who were giving her the puppy dog look.

“Family meeting?” Sam asked. John nodded and looked at Sherri expectantly, and she sighed; there was no fighting the immense guilt tripping power of two Uncle Sams.

“Ugh. You both owe me one,” she said, with one eye rolling, as they escorted her to her father’s table.

Tom looked up at her with wide, frightened eyes.

“You look like you’ve… been through the wringer,” he said quietly. Sherri glanced back towards Al Prime for a moment before answering.

“Yeah, I just got back from a tour of duty,” she said, taking a seat across from him and folding her arms. John and Sam flanked the two of them on either side of the table, silently waiting for the conversation to unfold.

“You’re a hero, Mag— uh, Sherri.” Her father smiled at her, and for a moment, Sherri thought she detected admiration.

Did he just…

Sherri looked at him, her eye welling with tears. “So, it took my saving the multiverse for you to give me unqualified praise.”

At that moment, Maggie leaned over Sherri from behind, placing a hand on each shoulder.

“Go on, Pops,” she prompted. “Tell her what you told me.”

Tom bit his lip, and avoided the eyes of the family members that surrounded him.

“I’m sorry for being more of a drill sergeant than a father to you,” he said. “And if I’d known about Billy, I probably would have come to Madera and kicked his ass myself.”

He looked up into Sherri’s eye. “I’m proud of you, and I was proud of you long before you saved the multiverse. I was just too stubborn to say it. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I’m glad I had this chance to apologise. I love you, Maggie.”

Sherri was silent for a moment, as the lump in her throat threatened to let loose the urge to weep.

“My name is Sherri,” she finally managed to choke out, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She let out a chuckle, wiping it away.

“Right… sorry,” Tom murmured.

On either side, Sam and John were beaming at each other. Sam placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, while John took Sherri’s hand.

“Thank you, Tom,” said John. “Sherri means more to me than anyone, and…”

He paused, getting choked up himself.

“What John is trying to say,” Sam continued, “is that he appreciates you opening up and giving Sherri much deserved praise.”

Sam looked across the table at his double. “Right?”

John nodded.

“Maggie?” Sherri said, looking upward at her younger counterpart. “Could you get me a glass of wine? I think I need another drink.”

*          *          *

As Maggie strode to the bar to fulfill Sherri’s request, John stood from his seat, spotting the two Als engaged in conversation.

Oh boy, I shudder to think what kind of chitchat is happening there. And yet, I must know.

He scurried over to the part of the bar where they stood, shrouded in a cloud of tobacco smoke, as Will stood back, away from the polluted air.

“What are they talkin’ about?” whispered John to the frowning programmer. He raised an eyebrow.

“Beth.”

Of course.

John tuned his ears to their discussion, as the radio on the wall played a muffled Purple Haze.

“All daughters?” Al Prime said, gesturing wildly with his cigar.

“Yeah, and you know what? My youngest is a genius, just like Sam.” The older Al leaned on the bar with one arm, while pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. As he showed his double some photos, John’s attention shifted back to Will.

“Well, that’s unexpectedly wholesome,” he commented. Will nodded, and gazed towards the floor.

After a moment, he spoke: “Why am I here?”

John gave him an inquisitive look. “Huh?”

Will gestured around the tavern. “This Q guy brought all you guys here for a purpose. Even Al’s got that other Al to talk to. But me? Why have I been trapped here?”

John furrowed his brow. “Huh, good question.”

He turned a head towards the bartender, who was already looking his way. The man tapped his hand on the bar, and gave a beckoning motion. John exchanged a glance with Will, and the two of them approached him.

“Could you hear us just now?” John asked him. The bartender nodded.

“A bartender’s always gotta be paying attention to the local gossip.”

John glared at him. “Aren’t we past your little routine at this point?”

The bartender frowned. “Why does nobody like my ‘little routine?’ What’s wrong with it?”

“We’re all very tired,” Will said as he took a seat on a stool, and slumped onto the bar with his arms. “So please, just be straight with us. What am I here for?”

The bartender placed a bottle of orange juice in front of Will.

“Here. I know you don’t drink.” He leaned on the bar, arms spread out, and assessed the two men. “Will, John… the two of you need each other.”

John tilted his head. “What?”

The bartender looked down at Will. “Focusing on work at the expense of your mental health.” He looked up at John.

“Ignoring your own needs.” He began pulling a beer from a tap labelled Schlitz. “You both need someone you can be completely open with.”

He placed the beer in front of John. “And I mean completely.”

“What are you getting at?” John asked, struggling to understand.

“This is what I’m talking about,” the bartender said, with an exasperated sigh. “You two are clueless. I couldn’t just let you two look past each other for the rest of your lives. John, Will would never say it, so allow me: he’s crazy about you.”

He is?

Will straightened at this announcement, his eyes popping wide open.

“H-hey…” he stuttered. “That… that’s not true—”

“Uh-uh-uh,” said the bartender, waving a finger, “I’m Q, remember? You can’t lie to the likes of me, kid.”

John looked down at Will with a crooked smile. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Will, going red in the face, covered his eyes. “It’s not like I was planning to let you in on that,” he muttered.

“I saw the disaster that was your dalliance with Jack,” the bartender continued. “And there’s only a few people you can be honest with. One of them just happened to already have a crush on you.”

He winked. “Eighty-six percent chance of… going the distance.”

John raised an eyebrow, as he took a hold of the drink the bartender had given him.

“Thanks for that, Higgins.” He raised the glass to his lips, taking a drink of a beer that tasted familiar, but he had no idea why.

The bartender snorted. “Higgins may be a lot of things, but a matchmaker he ain’t. Good thing I’m here.”

“You said that like you and Higgins are pals.”

“Oh sure, we go way back,” the bartender said, chuckling.

John couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. And as he took another sip of his drink, he sensed another presence beside him, on the opposite side to Will. His eyes met Sam, who was looking at he and Will with a grin.

“You two’ll make a cute couple,” he said, prompting John to glare.

“Were you eavesdropping just now?”

Sam shrugged. “Didn’t have to. I just knew.”

Oh, right. What is the deal with Sam now?

“You never did see Verbena, did you?”

John shook his head. Sam looked sadly at him for a moment, before pulling him into a hug.

“Holograms have it tougher than I realised,” he murmured. “Having to just watch when someone you love is in pain or fighting for their lives. They get physical scars, and you get mental ones.”

John felt his words like a gut punch.

“Oh, you know, I can’t complain,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Sherri’s the one putting her life on the line.”

Sam’s warm hand patted against the back of John’s neck, and he let go, pulling away and looking John in the eye.

“You owe yourself more kindness, Sam.”

He called me Sam.

With that, Sam turned to the bartender.

“So, are you going to tell me why I now know everything about my double, or are you going to wink at me and say something enigmatic?”

Everything?

The bartender chuckled. “Know thyself,” he said, and winked.

Sam let his head drop to one side, as he glared at the man in the same exasperated way John had seen him glare at Al on occasion.

“What do you mean you know everything about me?” asked John.

Sam scratched the back of his head. “Well, when you kissed me, it was like I absorbed your whole life into me all at once. But it goes back further than that. I knew about Thames because I knew it through you. It’s like I can reach out to versions of myself, wherever and whenever they are.” He grimaced, struggling to form words. “And… Ziggy was built with some of me in her. You wanted to know why I had a sixth sense about things? I think I was tapping into her.”

He turned back to the bartender. “All this new awareness, and I still can’t figure out what role you play in all of this. Are you the cause of this?”

“No more than you are, Sam.” The bartender smirked, and leaned in closer. “Trust me.”