From: TajuddinA@aol.com Date: Tue, 17 Dec 1996 13:54:09 -0500 Message-ID: <961217135359_34589807@emout01.mail.aol.com> Subject: child 3/10 "Like As a Child" pt.III The orphanage was not what Al had expected it to be. It sat off the main highway through Santa Fe and was the model of state-of-the-art architecture. He wasn't certian exactly what he had expected, but he knew this wasn't it. He supposed he had been searching for a dark, dank place with cold walls and perhaps even a moat to top it off. Unpleasant experiences colored the way you looked at things and while Al didn't believe the orphanage he had once stayed at had actually erected a moat to keep them all in, he felt they may as well have for all the chances he had to get out of there. Al pulled up alongside the curb and Callie hopped out, taking his hand and leading him into the building. Verbeena trailed along behind. Callie brought them without question or any of the hesitation she had shown thus far to Wendy Price's office. She stopped and looked up at Al expectantly, as if uncertain what to do once they reached their desitnation. He looked at her and saw a hint of apprehension over the upcoming confrontation and he wasn't all that surprised by it. Beside him, Verbeena gave her as reassuring a smile as she could manage as Al rapped on the door and opened it after he heard her call him in. "Ms. Price?" he asked, coming into the office. He stopped just inside the doorway, leaving Callie room to come in if she wanted to, but offering enough cover for her to hopefully fade into the wall behind him. She was never really given a chance to try the latter. "Callie!" she cried, looking genuinely relieved. "Thank goodness you're okay. Your uncle was so worried." She crouched down slightly, coming around her desk, to bring herself to Callie's level. Without waiting for a response, she straightened again and immediately took her eyes off the child's face, turning to meet Al's head on. Al snorted, noting that she didn't even mention Callie's bruises. Levelling as firm a glare as he could manage at her, he sucked in a deep breath, wishing for a cigar. "Tell him not to worry because I've found a solution to our little problems." She turned a cold gaze on him. "I take it you're Admiral Calavicci?" He nodded. "And this is?...." she asked, motioning to Verbeena. "I'm Dr. Verbeena Beeks. I'm a friend of the admiral." She smiled slightly, but was finding it almost as hard to keep calm and objective as the admiral. She still wasn't altogether certain this been a good idea, or even a plausable one. There were just too many obstacles. "I see. Well thank you for coming to your senses, Admiral. I do hope I will have the pleasure of dealing with you again sometime." Her sarcasm was unmistakable, but Al just grinned. "As a matter of fact, you will, because I've decided to adopt Callie. I have arranged for someone to come by and evaluate both me and my home this afternoon so that she can stay with me while the adoption goes through." He waved a hand lazily in the air, as if commenting on the weather, trying to dull the inevitable protest. "You can't!" she cried, visably upset. "I can and I have," he snapped, suddenly at battle-ready posture. "And I went over your head to assure myself that the job is done properly because I don't think you've been completely honest with me about anything. I even went so far as to get state permission to have the child in my custody. I have a great number of friends who could cause a great deal of trouble, Ms. Winters." Al let the vague threat drop and then put a hand on Callie's shoulder. "Frankly, I don't understand why you are so against me to begin with, but at the moment, I really don't care. I'm just here to get her things." He turned to Callie. "I'll be waiting out in the car with Verbeena. Take your time." Callie looked up at Wendy and Al noticed an almost imperceptible exchange taking place. He couldn't determine exactly what it was, but he could swear Wendy looked trapped and apologetic. Perhaps there was more to her story than he had given her credit for. As Callie turned and went to go pack, Verbeena took Al's arm and led him outside, almost running over a man on her way out in her haste. She stopped and apologized, turning to go around him. The man swept past the two of them with muttered apologies himself and Verbeena walked down to the curve, but Al stopped just to the side of the door. "Do I know him?" he asked, motioning inside the building. Verbeena shrugged, eager to get back to the car and to where she could be certain Al's temper wouldn't blow, to say nothing about the increasing tension of her own. "Know him?" She paused and ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it into the hair clip she was wearing. "I don't know. I didn't recognize him." He frowned and dropped his hand to his side with a thoughtful look. "I dunno," he began slowly, "but it was kind of a vague recognition. I could swear...." Before she could respond, Al clearly heard Wendy saying something about, "yes, Mr. Winters, Callie is in her room, but...." Al didn't hesitate at all but turned to go back into the building. "Al!" he heard Verbeena call after him, but he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. "Mr. Winters?" Al asked, rushing in the door. "Yes?" the man turned to him. He was slightly taller than Al, with a thin mustache. He had salt and pepper colored hair accentuated with a wave that swept it back off his ears, revealing sharp facial features and cold brown eyes. He tilted his head to regard the admiral with a look Al did not at all appreciate. "Al Calavicci," he introduced himself, extending his hand. He heard the psychiatrist make protesting sounds behind him as she came in the building, but he ignored her. The man took his hand. "Francis Winters," he responded. He didn't smile. Then again, neither did Al. They shook and then Al unexpectedly landed a right cross to the man's jaw and then a solid punch to his gut. He went down as much from shock as the force of the blows. Al came at him again, in a rage. "Get up!" he yelled at the man rolling on the floor. The man gasped out somthing, trying to pull air back into his lungs, but he wasn't able to and Al didn't really care what he was trying to say. All he could hear was the blood pumping and the heavy sound of his own breathing. And what he saw, he saw through a thick curtain of hatred, distorting any ounce of rational thought. "Al!" Verbeena yelled, grabbing at him. "Al, stop!" She moved between them so that Al couldn't strike again without risking injury to her. "Al, you _don't_ want to do this," she intoned, still struggling with him. "I wouldn't bet on that," Al snarled. He managed to push half-way past her, almost blind with anger. "You lay one hand, one fist, on her, you even _think_ of ever touching her again and you should be so lucky to find yourself behind bars!" he screamed, pointing directly to Winters. He shook and felt he couldn't risk lowering his hand. To make matters worse, Callie chose that moment to walk in. She stopped dead in her tracks at the scene which met her eyes. Al could see the fear in her face and let go of Verbeena's arm which he had been clutching at in an effort to move her out of his way. Her father staggered to his feet and Al noticed for the first time that Wendy was beside him. Callie tried to edge out the door, but it was futile. Within herself, something changed. Despite her willingness to let Al lead her where he would, she still knew her father could hurt her, and she still only knew that life. And she would do anything to stop this whole mess, even if it meant going back into hell. She looked up at Al, but all she could comprehend was the fact that if he took her away from all this, he would die. Beside her father, Wendy chewed on her lip, and Callie knew the reason she didn't want Al to take her. As young as she was, she knew. Al could tell how upset Callie was by the situation, and he couldn't blame her. After all, he had promised her she would never have to see this monster again and here she was face-to-face with him. "Callie...:" he began, but her father spoke over him. "Callie, darling, I was so worried about you. Come here." She walked slowly to him, as if an unseen force was moving her reluctant limbs, drawing her closer into the nightmare she thought she'd escaped from. "How could you do that to your daughter?" Al demanded in low tones. Verbeena tightened her grip on his arms, but he didn't try to pull away. The man laughed; it was not a pretty sound. Al noted he glanced quickly at Wendy. "My daughter? You must be mistaken. She's my niece, aren't you dear?" He looked Al in the face. "Whatever gave you the impression she was my daughter?" "A slip of the tongue on my part," Wendy said, jumping in quickly. Al looked steadily at them and then pulled away from Verbeena. He walked slowly up to them and put a hand on Callie's shoulder, clear defiance in front of Winters. "Are you packed?" he asked. She hesitated and he squeezed her shoulder and bent to whisper in her ear. "I won't let him hurt you, Callie. Please, you've got to trust me." She knew she could trust him, and trust was not something she came by easily, but there was no question in her mind of it. Somewhere in her mind, she asked herself why she was about to say "no" to Al, why she wanted to return to her father. The little five year old girl that had been shot at once by him informed her that it was because if it didn't work, she would be in very big trouble. And no-one was more surprised than that five year old when she nodded slightly and said, "yes, sir," in response to his first question. He straightened and turned to lead her out of the office. "What's going on here?" Winters demanded, taking a step forward. He reached up to grab Al's arm, but then thought the better of it. "You can't take her anywhere." "Look, I've explained this to Ms. Price already, and I certainly don't owe _you_ anything. If you'll excuse me..." Al shot him one more hard look before leaving. The last thing the trio heard as they left the orphanage was the sound of Francis Winters yelling harsh explatives at Wendy Price. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------------------------------------- Verbeena drove. Al started absently out the window, lost in thought. It was really the first opportunity he had to sit back and give some serious thought to all that was going on, and he didn't intend to lose it. He had been struck, over the past day and a half, how much Callie acted both older than her age, and younger at the same time. He supposed when someone went through what she had, it did things to you. He just counted his lucky stars that that was the one tradgedy life hadn't bestowed upon him. Not only that, but he knew there was more. She had almost seemed more scared when she agreed to stay with him than when she thought she was going back to the orphanage, back to her father. Or uncle. No, he was definitely her father. He was still unsure of why Wendy would be covering for him, but he had some ideas in that area too. One thing was for sure: she was just as trapped as Callie. Perhaps more. He wondered offhandedly if he abused Wendy, too, but he hadn't seen any evidence of that. Wendy had worn short sleeves and a skirt and something was bound to show up on her arms, at least. So why cover? As Al continued to drift off, inevitably towards sleep, Verbeena ran her own set of scenarios through her mind. They were out of the city now, and so there was no traffic to worry about and she was able to divide her attention. The thing that worried her most was the fact that Al had too many things going against him for this to work. Even if he _did_ manage, by some miracle (and she had seen him work miracles before, she had to admit) to convince the social workers that he had a suitable environment for an eleven-year old girl, what was he going to do with her? Granted, there were many people at Project Quantum Leap and not all of them were ever on the job at once and many of them knew the admiral well (some very well), but Al barely made time for his own personal health, let alone that of a girl. Verbeena had no doubt that the child would be well taken care of; she just worried that Al wouldn't have time to do any of the caring himself. Not if he ever wanted to sleep again. She turned, wondering what memory had captured Al so securely when she looked in the rear view mirror and caught sight of Callie in the back. She adjusted the mirror for a better view and realized she was shaking. Hard. "Al?" she prompted, pulling off onto the side of the road. He turned around and noticed the problem immediately. It was somewhat hard to miss. Callie seemed to be concentrating on stilling her hands, but her shoulders were trembling so violently that her task was made even harder. She looked very cold despite the warm temperature, and Al feared she was having a seizure. Verbeena put the car in park and he got out quickly, throwing open the door to the back seat. He pulled the door shut behind him and slid over next to Callie. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently. She shook her head, causing the shaking to worsen. He suddenly realized the problem. "You're scared." It wasn't a question, but she tried again physically to respond. Verbeena turned off the ignition and twisted in her seat to get a look at her. She touched Al lightly on the wrist. "She's having a physical reaction to the stress." "What do I do?" he asked. Verbeena looked in her eyes and took her pulse while Al sat helplessly beside her. Callie seemed almost as strong a person as he had been at her age and he closed his eyes against what could evolke this reaction from her. "I'm going to keep driving. Just let her ride it out and make sure she doesn't hurt herself. She should be okay. Let me know if she gets and worse." Verbeena finally reported, turning back around in the seat. Al hesitated slightly, not sure if her idea was the best. "Shouldn't you give her something, or....?" he asked slowly, uncertainly. Verbeena started the ignition and eyed him in the rear-view mirror. "It's psychological, Al. And I don't really carry around the stuff to treat this with me." "You _sure_ we don't need to go to a hospital?" She gave a little sigh and pulled the car back out onto the road. "I'm sure, Al. Just trust me, okay? She'll be fine. Keep her warm." Her tone indicated that she wanted him to be quiet and concentrate on Callie, not his own limited medical expertise. Al belted himself in and then took off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. It dwarfed her easily. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. Her jerky movements caused his own body to tremble, but he pulled her head against his chest and waited. "Al?" she coughed out. He pulled her closer, if such a thing was indeed possible. "Yes, Callie?" "I'm s-s-sorry," she stammered and he shivered. No child should have to put up with this. "Shhh, you don't have anything to be sorry about. None of this is your fault." He tried to make his voice as calming as he could, and he resisted the urge to again question Verbeena's decision. "But I'm so scared." "I know," was all he said and he continued to hold her until the shaking stopped.