Earth Prime
February 6, 1998
It was a busy Friday night at the bar downtown. The noise levels were at the point that even the most sensitive information spoken would have been swallowed up by the ambience before reaching the ears of a stranger.
Sherri leaned against a wall, watching the Men’s Room door. She sipped at a glass of red wine.
“Waiting for someone?” a voice emerged from the clamour. Sherri turned her head toward it, and gave a fond smile to its owner.
“John’s in the… uh, john,” she said. “Good to see you, Al.”
Earth Prime’s Al Calavicci took his place against the wall, beside her, an unlit cigar between his fingers. He was dressed in a vibrant blue suit, with a matching set of tinted shades, and his tie was hot pink, which complemented his similarly coloured shoes.
“Trying to impress someone with that suit?” she asked, though she knew he dressed like this almost every day.
Al flashed her a suggestive look. “Would you have preferred my birthday suit?”
Sherri gave him a playful elbow in the side. “I see nothing’s changed with you.”
“Sure it has,” he said, waving around the cigar. “Since I last saw you, I had myself another beautiful, transcendent wedding, and then… bitter, contentious divorce.”
“How many’s that now?” Sherri grimaced in anticipation of the response.
“Five— wait… no, six. Think that means I get the next one free.”
Given what Sherri knew about Al, the joke was less funny than it was sad, but she gave him a token laugh all the same, just to make him feel better.
“Jeez, Al. Why even bother marrying?” She hadn’t meant to sound so blunt, but it was a question in the minds of everyone who knew the man.
“Always seems like a great idea at the time. It’s the womanly wiles. Robs me of my higher reasoning.”
Sherri made eye contact with Al. “Is that what brought you here? You want a rebound fling with me?”
“Sherri, I’m hurt that you’d suggest I’d come here just for that.” He gestured to the room around them. “There are plenty of other ladies here to have a rebound fling with.”
Sherri placed a hand on her hip. “But, I’m the only one who you know for sure won’t end up your seventh wife. No strings, no drama, no weirdness.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re making a pitch, Sherri.”
Sherri gave him a noncommittal shrug, before finishing her wine.
Finally, John emerged from the bathroom door. His eyes were immediately drawn to the conspicuous Al, and his face lit up. He crossed to the former Admiral, giving him a pat on the arm in greeting.
“Al, I didn’t know you were coming to town.”
Al gave him a tight shrug. “After the message Will sent me, thought it might be a good time to see a couple of old friends for maybe the last time.”
“Don’t say that,” John said, frowning. “We still have a chance.”
Al pressed his cigar to his lips, before realising that it wasn’t lit. He made a face.
“Damn non-smoking bars,” he grumbled. “I’m goin’ outside.”
Sherri and John followed him out onto the street, where Al lit up and took a long drag, before continuing the conversation.
“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you two,” he said, “but you know as well as I do it’s a long shot. What kind of odds did that computer of yours give it?”
Sherri exchanged a look with John. “Thirty-one per cent,” she admitted.
“Far be it for me to bet against Team Beckett, but this ain’t the Superbowl we’re talking about. The stakes are a little too life-or-death to be enjoying my retirement. So I came to offer, you know, moral support.” He leaned towards Sherri. “And maybe have a rebound fling before the world goes caca.”
John stared at the sidewalk. “You look so much like him these days.”
“Like who?” asked Al, a plume of smoke rolling past his lips.
John scuffed his foot. “You remember all the crazy stuff I said when we first met, right?”
“That bananas story you expected me to believe about parallel versions of us from the future?”
“That’s the one. He came out of a bright white door in the middle of a lecture about TCP. Loud shirt, bright yellow pants. Carrying a cigar just like that. Even the same ring on his finger. Face about the same age.”
“Sounds like a stylish kinda guy,” Al said.
John laughed. “He scared the living daylights outta me.”
Sherri smiled, recalling John receiving a job offer some time around 1984. He was going to return to sender, until he saw the name attached. He then proceeded to call up Al Calavicci, sharing his very strange story. Most people would have written John off as a nutcase, but Al wasn’t most people.
“I’d say if you’re gonna be a hologram from the future, you might as well look like a hologram from the future,” Al said sagely.
Sherri turned an eye to John. “See, I told you. Bright colours make you stand out so I can see you better.”
“But it’s so tacky,” John whined. “I like my jeans and neutral tone shirts.”
“Listen, Sam,” Al prodded, “let me pick your wardrobe for the next one. Just this once.”
Sherri grinned. “Seconded.”
John groaned. “I’ll only wear it if it’s not going to put me off my game, okay?”
He leaned towards Sherri. “Or yours.”
Sherri held a hand to her heart. “Sir, I am a professional.”
She grinned at Al. “Make sure there’s big blocks of fire engine red.”
“You got it.”
“Oh boy,” John sighed with resignation, rubbing his temples.
* * *
The weekend passed quickly, as John and Sherri tried to relax as best they could, knowing what was to come.
John didn’t know whether Sherri and Al slept together, and it wasn’t his business. They were two mature adults, both older than him, and they could do what they wanted, as far as he was concerned. It had been something of an unspoken agreement between the three of them for a long time that they need not discuss anything that happened between those two.
But of course, he knew it had happened at least a few times in their long history. Sherri’s divorce long ago had erased what desire she’d had to settle down with a guy, and Al’s frequent bachelorhood had brought them together on occasion, but it had never spilled out of the bedroom. Somehow, it seemed like the healthiest relationship Al had had since Beth. Whatever Sherri did with him, their friendship never soured.
It was Sunday when Al took John shopping for an outfit. He was miserable the whole time, of course, as Al picked out some of the most flamboyant pieces.
And now, on Monday morning, he emerged from the elevator with slumped shoulders, as those who had arrived earlier gawked at him.
Al had given him a vibrant vermillion blazer, and rainbow striped pants. His shirt was blue on one side and yellow on the other, to match his shoes and fedora respectively.
“Yes, yes, I look like a clown,” he said, as numerous pairs of eyes followed him across the control room. “Soak it in while you can.”
Head lowered, he entered the break room, where a grinning Sherri and Al awaited his arrival.
“Chin up, Sam,” Al said. “The difference between being a schlub and being a trend setter is confidence. If you look embarrassed, people will take the cue to laugh at you.”
Sherri, as if to demonstrate, was clearly holding back laughter. She produced a camera, and started snapping photos, as he glared at her.
“Sherri…” he mumbled, covering his eyes. “This is a serious mission. I don’t think this is gonna work.”
Sherri stood, and pulled down his hand so she could look him in the eye.
“John… Sam. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I leap today. It’s the Kromaggs, you know? I could die. I don’t care if you look like an extra from Beetlejuice, or a gay Willy Wonka. If anything, it might keep my spirits high.”
She adjusted his tie. “Let’s finish this, okay?”
John sighed. “Okay.”
Gay Willy Wonka?
* * *
Sherri placed a hand on Will Arturo’s shoulder, as he worked at his terminal. He jumped at the contact, and glanced up at her.
“Oh, hey,” he said distractedly.
“Come on, take a break with me,” she said, gesturing for the break room. “I’m due out in a half hour.”
“Oh… okay.”
He got up, and a few minutes later they were sharing a quiet moment by the coffee maker.
Sherri took a swig of her black coffee, and moved an eye over the Professor’s son. He looked dishevelled and nervous, hunched over his earl grey tea, grasping the mug like it was a lifeline.
“Doesn’t look like the week off helped you one bit,” she observed.
Will moved his sunken eyes up to meet hers. “I guess I’m not very good at relaxing.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Sherri said. “I can’t help but think… you’re miserable here.”
“N-no, not at all,” he countered. “I support the cause, I love everyone here. There’s no reason I’d be miserable.”
Sherri searched his tired eyes. “And yet, lately it feels like you’re only half here. I know it can’t be easy, with your Dad and all.”
Will fixed his gaze in the ripples of his tea. “It’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’ve had to deal with that for a while, and it’s hard… but, moreover it’s the pressure that comes with this line of work. I’ve had pretty bad insomnia for a while now.”
“Have you talked to John about this? Maybe he can help.”
Will shrugged. “You know he overworks himself, too. I don’t want to be another hassle.”
“Will…” Maggie reached out a hand and rested it on his wrist. “We’re a team. We all support each other. Don’t ever feel like you’d be a hassle asking for help.”
She leaned over and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Your Dad was real proud of you, you know?”
A ghost of a smile passed over Will’s face. “We used to absolutely hate each other.” He let out a bitter laugh.
Sherri pursed her lips. “I don’t think he ever hated you, Will. He just had to readjust his parental expectations.”
Will snorted. “Nah, he definitely hated me after the time I stole three hundred bucks out of his wallet when I was fourteen. He specifically said the words: ‘I despise you, you theftuous simplician.’” He spoke the quotation with the blustery voice of his father.
“Theftuous?” Now it was Sherri’s turn to laugh. “I just know he made up some of those words he came out with.”
“It’s actually a real word; I looked it up,” Will said, and began to chuckle with her. The two of them laughed a moment longer, before descending into a contemplative silence.
Finally, Sherri broke the silence. “Listen, if something happens to me, I want you and John to take good care of each other. Promise me?”
Will went pale. “I promise,” he said, “but please come back, okay? I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“That’s something I can’t promise, but I’ll do my best. Count on it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sherri stepped into the Interdimensional Accelerator, and vanished.