Message-ID: <6cd3114c.358ac531@aol.com> Date: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 16:08:15 EDT From: Maryilee@aol.com Subject: "And Then There Were Two" Part 8 Chapter 8 Sam squirmed uncomfortably under Gary's scrutiny. "I guess I watched Rocky one to many times." He joked weakly. Sam could see he wasn't buying it. Gary's head was slowly shaking back and forth, a bewildered look crossing his face. "And how did you know where I was? I didn't even know exactly where the attack was going to take place until I stumbled upon it." Sam dropped his gaze and rubbed his chin. He couldn't very tell Gary that Ziggy had tracked him down. The poor guy was already confused enough. All morning, Marissa had asked Sam to do one inconsequential task after another. Then Spike's harness had suspiciously broken, and Sam had to spend over an hour repairing it. To make matters worse, Sam's repeated requests to Marissa about Gary's whereabouts, were met with vague answers. Sam then asked Al to track Gary down, but Ziggy had blown some circuits, and Al had left to get things straightened out. After several hours of balancing books, and ordering stock, Sam had been totally frustrated and feeling useless. Just as he was ready to go crazy, Al had reappeared, in a panic. At Al's news that Gary needed help, Sam had rushed from the office, and ignoring Marissa's questions, jumped into Chuck's car, and raced to the alley as fast as he could. Not fast enough to save Gary and Herrara from being hurt though, he thought regretfully. Sam started to answer Gary's question, but was saved by the arrival of the police and EMTs. Chaos ensued for the next twenty minutes as the paramedics treated Mr.Herrara, and Gary, sending both to the hospital. Police briefly questioned both victims before they were transported, then thoroughly questioned Sam. Unfortunately, Sam couldn't give them much to go on, as the attackers had been dressed in baggy clothes, hiding their build, and he hadn't gotten much of a glimpse of their faces. Sam poked his head into the kitchen of McGinty's and spotted Robin, "Hey Robin, have you seen Marissa?" Sam had tried to reach her from the hospital with no luck. Robin shook her head, "She mentioned going to the library to study." "Oh, well, could you make a sandwich for Gary?" "Of course. How is he?" She asked, her face a mask of concern. Sam sighed, "He's got some cuts and bruises, but the doctor said he's going to be fine." That is, Sam thought grimly, until tomorrow night, unless he could find a way to prevent it. It was discovered at the hospital that Gary's wallet had been stolen, which made Sam uneasy. Gary had shrugged it off, seemingly more relieved to discover that the paper was still in his pocket, though a little worse for the wear. Sam came out of his reverie to find that Robin had asked him a question. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" "I just commented that Gary sure gets into his share of trouble, don't you think?" She chuckled. "It's almost like he goes looking for it." "Uh yeah. I guess it must seem that way." Sam agreed hesitantly, unsure who knew about the paper, and who didn't. "I mean," Robin continued, her hands busily stacking slices of turkey, lettuce and tomato on slices of wheat bread, "like when I first started. Remember when those men came in and trashed this place?" Sam looked up sharply, "What men?" Robin looked at him uncertainly, startled by Sam's tone, "You know, you were here. Those white supremacists. You know the guys who didn't like Gary trying to mess up their rally. Or whatever they called it." She shrugged, slicing the sandwiches in half. She added some sliced fruit to the plate, and a handful of pretzels. She finished her task by pouring a glass of flavored seltzer water into a tall glass. "Here you go. Tell Gary that I hope he feels better tomorrow." Taking the plate and glass, Sam nodded. "Thanks Robin. I'll tell him." Sam carefully balanced the plate and glass, and opened the door to Gary's apartment above the bar. Gary was seated on the couch, his head back and eyes closed. Sam set the dishes down on the coffee table. "Here you go. Dinner is served." "Meeeeeooow" Sam jumped as an orange cat leaped from behind the couch, landing next to Gary's leg. Sam smiled, and reached to pet him, but drew his hand back suddenly when the creature arched its back and hissed at him. Gary lifted his head, giving Sam a tired smile. "You should know better by now." Sam straightened, clearing his throat self-consciously. "Yeah, well, I guess I forgot that your cat doesn't like me." Gary laughed quietly, "Hey, he's not *my* cat." Gary sat forward, eyeing the sandwich dubiously. He picked it up, took a bite, washing it down with a sip of water. Sam watched as Gary just picked at the fruit, and ignored the sandwich. "Hey, Gary, you have to eat." Sam urged, "I bet you haven't eaten all day." Gary shrugged, pushing the plate away. "Sorry, I'm not very hungry." He absently stroked the cat, apparently lost in thought. Raising his head, he met Sam's gaze, his brown eyes troubled. "So...Chuck," He began, hesitating, "you never answered the questions I asked earlier today." Sam sighed, sinking into the easy chair next to the couch. He wearily dropped his face into his hands, massaging the bridge of his nose. Where to start? He wondered. How much should he reveal? Sam wrestled with the questions in his mind. If anyone deserved to hear the truth, it was Gary, he thought. Sam swallowed. He wanted to tell Gary the truth; but reluctantly admitted to himself that whether it was for Gary's sake or his own, he wasn't sure. In the last few days, Sam had felt a bond between them. Or at least, felt that one could have developed if circumstances had been different. He knew what drove Gary, for didn't the same desire to help others drive himself? In another time, Sam felt they could have been best friends. He saw the weariness in Gary. As though the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. Sam was no stranger to that feeling. If anyone could empathize with Gary, it was he. Taking a deep breath, he made his decision. Sam raised his head. Gary was watching him uncertainly, as though he wished he could take back the questions. Pretend everything was normal. "Well...Gary, you know how you've been saying that I've been acting...strange...lately?" Gary nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "Well, not strange, exactly, just a little differently." "No Sam! You can't tell him!" Al commanded, rushing out of the Imaging Chamber door. "If you tell him, it could change history." Sam shook his head ruefully. "What difference does it make, Al? He already changes history every day. How will we ever know if what changes is because of him or me?" Gary cocked his head slightly to the side, his eyes slowly searching the room for who ever it was Sam was talking to. He looked frightened. "Sam! I'm warning you!" "The reason I'm acting differently, is because I'm not really Chuck." Sam blurted out, not exactly as gently as he had meant to break the news. "Huh?" Gary asked, clearly not understanding. Sam sighed, "My name is Sam Beckett. I'm part of a time-travel experiment that went a little...well it went a little 'ca-ca' as someone once told me." Sam slanted a glance at Al. "Ha-ha, thanks a lot, Sam." Al said dryly. "So, you're not really Chuck, you're someone named Sam Beckett." Gary stated, obviously believing his best friend had gone off the deep end. "And you're part of a time-travel experiment?" Gary laughed dryly. "Good joke, Chuck. How long did it take you to think that one up?" "I know how it sounds, but it's true. I leap into other people's lives; sort of trade places with them." Sam insisted. "And these other people, Chuck...er...Sam, they would go where?" Gary asked, leaning forward, his elbow on his knee, head in his hand. Skepticism practically oozed out of every pore. "Well, they go to the waiting room." Sam tried to explain. "See, when I leap in, they leap out." Al shook his head, "Sorry kid, but I warned ya! Now he thinks you're totally wacko." Sam narrowed is eyes at Al; his 'Don't even start' look. Gary rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing slightly. "Okay, say I believed you, that doesn't explain how come you look like Chuck." "That's because you see the aura of Chuck. In fact, when I look in the mirror, that's what I see, the aura of the person that I've leaped into. I...I...haven't seen my own face in...Well, it's been a long time." Sam's voice trailed off. "What's the point?" At Sam's questioning look, Gary clarified, "Why do you leap? What's the purpose? Do you analyze the person in the waiting room or something? See how people way back in time behave?" Gary asked, slightly scornfully. "No!" Sam denied loudly, "No, we would never hurt anyone in the waiting room." He finished, much more quietly. "Besides, we aren't that much in the future." Sam pulled his hand down over his face wearily. He gave a wry smile, "In fact, this is my future." "Awww Sam. You're not supposed to reveal that stuff to anybody." Al quickly jabbed some buttons on the handlink, "I gotta go, Sam. That way I can pretend I don't know about all the rules you just broke. See ya later, kid." Sam watched Al disappear, feeling suddenly lonely. He was beginning to think that he had made a mistake. He stood, walking over to the window, gazing out at the beautiful Chicago skyline. He dropped his head in dejection. He couldn't blame Gary. If someone who looked just like Al had come up to him claiming to be someone else, he sure as hell would be just as disbelieving. Sam sighed. The best thing to do would be to warn Gary what was going to happen tomorrow night, and hope that he would believe that at least. Sam turned, shoulders slumped, "Okay, Gary. You don't have to believe anything else I've said, but there is one thing you do have to believe." "Oh? What would that be?"