Date: Wed, 29 Oct 1997 18:10:40 -0700 (MST) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Memories - Part 11 Message-ID: Quantum Leap Memories by Katherine R. Freymuth Copyright 1997 Part 11 Linda and John had eaten lunch and were now playing in the living room while Sam cleaned the dishes that had been used during the meal. As he did so, Sam remembered with pride how Linda attended her brother during the meal, making certain that he ate his lunch. Linda was a very good sister to John and Sam was now determined more than ever to free them from their father and to make sure the two remained together with a good family, if not with Maddie. He heard the Imaging Chamber door open and turned to look at Al. His partner seemed preoccupied. "Al," Sam greeted. Al raised his head and smiled slightly. "Hi, Sam." He lowered his head and fiddled with the handlink absent-mindedly. Sam exhaled. "What's the matter?" he questioned. "Still stuttering?" Al looked at Sam again. He took a breath. "Yes. B-But there's a l-lot more to it th-then that." He hesitated and started to pace for the third time on this leap. "Sam, I'mm b-beginning to th-think this s-stutter of m-mine d-does have to d-do with m-my mother. Wh-Whenever I e-even th-think of her, mmmy s-stutter b-becomes worse." He exhaled. "And then th-there's M-Maddie and her l-latest p-prediction." "What prediction?" Sam questioned with a frown. Al didn't deem to hear Sam's question, focusing on his pace. "It d-doesn't m-make sense at all," he said mostly to himself. "What doesn't make sense?" Sam questioned. "Al?" Al's head snapped up. "Wh-What?" "What doesn't make sense?" Sam repeated. "Maddie? Are you okay?" Sam quickly turned around to see Linda standing in the kitchen's doorway, holding the swinging door open. Sam could sense Al moving. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see Al slowly walking towards the living room, a frightened but curious look on his face. "Maddie?" Linda pressed. Sam looked at Linda and realized she was waiting for an answer. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Who were you talking to?" "Myself," Sam replied. "I was talking to myself." It was obvious that Linda didn't believe him but wasn't going to further any further. "I just want to get some water for John," Linda told Sam, explaining her entrance into the kitchen. "He's thirsty." Sam nodded. "Okay." He watched Linda walk past him to a cabinet over the counter-top. She retrieved a glass by climbing onto the counter. Seeing that Linda had obviously done the task many times before, Sam started out of the kitchen, warning Linda to be careful. He entered the living room to see Al looking carefully around. The Admiral's eyes stopped on a wall and he began to shake slightly. Sam walked so that he was by Al's side, briefly noting John's playing with old wooden blocks. "Al?" Sam questioned. Al ignored the inquiry, continuing his almost hypnotic gaze. Sam followed the gaze. There in the wall, about four feet from the floor, was a large dent which, based on the paint chipping around it, had been there a long time. Sam stepped closer and looked at his friend with concern. "Al?" he questioned as Linda returned from the kitchen with a glass of iced water. The ice tinkled in the glass gently as Linda helped John take a sip. Al quickly turned around at the sound, staring at the dining room door with obvious fear. Sam was now a little more than frightened for his friend - more frightened than when Al fainted. "Al, talk to me," he almost demanded of the Admiral. Linda looked at Sam with confusion. However, questioning was instantly hindered by the sound of a door slamming. "Linda!" *"Albert!"* Linda stood up quickly, frightened. "Daddy?" she questioned. "Linda!" the bellow came again. There was a definite drunken slur in the voice. John whimpered slightly and Linda went to him to reassure him. "Yes, Daddy?" *"Yes, Momma?"* Michael Tornelli entered the living room with a stagger. Sam closed his eyes. It was now completely obvious that the man was drunk. Michael glared at Sam angrily. "Madeline. What the hell are you doing here?" "Working," Sam replied. "You hired me as a housekeeper and baby-sitter, if you recall." Michael ignored Sam's reply and marched angrily towards Linda and John. Sam quickly blocked his path. "You're not going near Linda or John until you've sobered up." Michael glared at him with hatred. Without warning, he drove his fist three times into Sam's stomach and then pushed him aside. He quickly grabbed Linda's arm, causing the girl to call out in fright. "You went over there last night, didn't you?" Michael yelled angrily. "Daddy..." Linda pleaded. *"But, Momma, I..."* A hand came down and across Linda's face. "Don't you hit her!" Al screamed at Michael. "Sam! Do something!" "You think Maddie can raise you better than me?!" Michael bellowed as Al screamed. "Daddy, I'm sorry. I..." The girl's face was hit again as Sam stood up painfully. "Don't talk back at me!" Michael ordered. *"Shut up when I'm talking!"* Al closed his eyes in anger. "Gawd, Sam! Don't let this happen again!" "Michael! Stop!" Sam ordered as he hurriedly pulled Michael away just after the man delivered yet another blow to his daughter's head. "Stop!" Sam ordered again, keeping Michael in a full Nelson and thus preventing him from hitting Linda again. Michael struggled hard against Sam but could not break free in his inebriated condition. Eventually, he stopped struggling, seeing his children holding each other and crying. "Look at your children, Michael," Sam said into his ear, not releasing him. "Look at the bruises on Linda's face, bruises which you have caused." Tears began to roll down Michael's cheeks. "Oh, my gawd," he whispered. He struggled slightly against Sam. "Let me go." Sam kept his hold on him. "Let me go, Madeline. Please," he begged. "She's my baby girl." Sam looked at Al for information but found the Admiral watching Linda and John, tears in his own eyes. "Please, Maddie," Michael whispered. "I won't hurt her. Please." Sam exhaled. Michael was no longer struggling against him. He seemed completely drained of all energy. Feeling that Michael would keep his word, Sam slowly realized him. Michael slowly approached his children. He reached out and touched Linda's shoulder. Linda immediately shrugged the hand off, not looking at her father. "Linda, honey," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean it. I didn't..." He stopped, seeing his daughter move herself and John further away from him. In grief of his actions, he buried his face into his palms and cried. "Oh, gawd. What have I done? I can't do this anymore. I can't do it! Better they were orphans than to have a father like me," he finished quietly. Al noticed Michael's words instantly. He looked at the man in shock, as if something had instantly touched his soul. Forcing himself to divert his attention away from Michael, Al raised the handlink, suddenly aware of its insistent chirping and beeping. As Al was pushing buttons on the handlink, trying to interpret the information Ziggy was giving him, Sam approached Michael slowly. "Michael," he said quietly. "Come away for now. Give her a little time." "But I love her," Michael insisted. "I love them both." "I know," Sam replied, pulling him gently away. "But you have a problem and it's hurting them." Michael had a blank look on his face. "I have to go away." Al's head popped up. "No, Sam!" he exclaimed. "You can't let him do that. Ziggy's finally come up with some numbers and she says that, if you convince Michael to let Madd help him, there's a ninety-one percent chance you'll leap. If Michael leaves them, Linda will never forgive him. She'll be sent to an orphanage and John to a mental hospital because the state won't let Madd keep them." He huffed. "Madd's not a relative, as if that should make a difference." Sam helped Michael to his feet. "Michael, you can't leave them," he said gently. "You're their father. They need you." "They'll be better without me," he whispered. "Nonsense," Sam told him. "Why don't you get some sleep before you do anything rash?" Michael looked at him. "You'll take care of them for me? Make sure they're okay?" Sam nodded. "And when you're sobered up, we need to talk about all this." Michael nodded. "You're right. You're right." He looked at Linda again, deep sorrow in his eyes. "Daddy's sorry, honey. Daddy's sorry." Finally, at Sam's insistence, Michael slowly went up to his bedroom to sleep off the alcohol in his system while Sam attended to Linda and John.