Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1999 21:56:10 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Mirror - part 2 Message-ID: Quantum Leap Mirror of Deception by Gary Marsh and Katherine Freymuth Copyright 1998 Part 2 Al didn't leave his quarters for several hours. He didn't sleep or pace or talk to himself in that time. He just sat and thought - and he had a lot to think about. He had always known Tina had been running around. Although everyone had tried to keep it quiet from him, he had known about her having an on/off affair with Gushie, the project's head programmer. He never understood what she found attractive about the nervous little red-head. It certainly couldn't have been because of his kiss; the man had breath that could kill a tree. But Tina and Mark Davalos? Getting married? And what did she mean by 'he and I are most compatible'? Mark liked Jethro Tull. Tina liked the Spice Girls (of all groups!). Mark was a staunch Catholic - or so Al had thought before - and Tina believed in spiritualism. She was a slave to fashion whereas Mark preferred jeans and a t-shirt when not in uniform. More compatible? They were practically opposites! On the other hand, it did explain a few oddities Al hadn't noticed before: the smiles Tina and Mark would exchange, the way Tina would slip out of the project's complex occasionally when Al was in the Imaging Chamber. Al wondered just how long the two had been seeing each other. Finally, after brooding for so long, Al stood up and returned to Tina's quarters. He gave his usual knock but waited for a response before entering. "You ready to talk about this?" Tina questioned. Al exhaled slowly. "How long have you two been seeing each other?" he asked quietly. Tina also exhaled. "Come sit down," she beckoned. Al didn't move. Tina nodded slightly. "A long time," she finally answered. "Almost a year." Al raised his eyebrows. "Only a year and you're ready to marry him." Tina shook her head. "I love him, Al. I love you too but I don't want to become ex-wife number six. And that's what would happen. You're looking for a replacement for your first wife. I'm looking for a long-term relationship. And Mark, he's..." She hesitated, obviously not wanting to say the wrong thing, Al lowered his eyelids. "He's younger, more loyal, and less married than me. He's a one-time widower, not a five-time divorcee. He has kids and I don't and you want kids." He huffed. "I understand. At least you could have told me about him before I told you I love you." Tina took a deep breath. "Al, I still love you..." "But you're not IN love with me," Al concluded. "I'm sorry," Tina told him sadly. There was a long pause. "Did you sleep with him?" "Al Calavicci! That is none of your business!" Al laughed cynically. "Translation: no, you didn't. At least Mark is staying a good Catholic boy in that respect." He paused. "You really do love him," he stated more than asked. Tina nodded. "Yes, I do." Al hesitated before he nodded and turned towards the door. "Al," Tina stopped him. Al looked at her. "Don't let this get between you and Mark. He honestly thought you knew about us. The deception is mine, not his. Forgive me?" Al didn't answer. He slowly turned away and left the quarters. "He's here. No, the other one. Yes, him. What should I do? I don't know why he's here. He's having a drink. I suppose that could be true. But what if it isn't? All right, I will. I told you I will, didn't I? Yes. Yes. Good-bye." *Irritating woman,* she thought as she shut off the power and placed the cellular phone in her purse. *As if I've never done this before.* She huffed slightly and looked about the bar. He was still there, she noted. Still sitting on the same bar stool, probably on his third drink. *American beer,* she thought with a grimace. *Oh, for a good stout!* She straightened her dress, undoing her top button to allow a little more cleavage to show - enough to catch a man's attention but not enough to make her look like a prostitute. She adjusted her hair slightly and then slowly walked towards her target. He didn't notice her sitting beside him. His eyes were focused into his beer as if he were trying to find answers in its brown liquor. "You look a mite depressed," she observed to him. He didn't move as the words slowly reached his consciousness. He slowly turned his head to the speaker to see heaven on earth - a knock-'em-dead auburn-haired woman with bright green eyes and soft pale skin. For a moment, his depression was fading. He exhaled slowly, turning away from the woman. He wasn't sure he was ready for another relationship, even if it might only be a one-night stand. She nodded. "I see. Your heart's been broken and you're afraid of starting a relationship. I understand that." He smiled slightly at the woman's observation and at her accent. It was very obvious that she wasn't a native to the United States, much less New Mexico. "You're certainly not from around here," he commented before he took a drink of his beer. "Aye, 'tis the truth," she smiled at him. "Born just outside of Dublin." He didn't look at her. "Long way from home," he told her. She gently turned his head with her right hand. "I'm a big girl, Admiral Calavicci." Al almost dropped his mug. He turned and faced this strange Irish woman, a confused frown on his face. "How do you know my name?" he questioned with suspicion. The woman laughed gently. "There's no need to be suspicious, Admiral. I'm a student of American history, particularly of your space program. I've read all about you and your very fascinating life." "Really," Al huffed before he finished his drink. "Me and my fascinating life," he paraphrased sarcastically. "Not every man graduated Annapolis and MIT, fought a war, orbited the Earth and the Moon, launched satellites, and worked in their government's best science projects." She paused and looked at Al with admiration. "You're a genius!" Al laughed cynically. "Don't tell that to my girlfriend... ex-girlfriend. She'd think I faked my IQ scores." "162," the woman provided. "Very impressive." Al huffed. "What's impressive with being born with brains? Trust me. I've seen what the public thinks of people with brains. Clamoring all over them. Hell, I'm surrounded by people with brains everyday." He huffed. "I'm not a genius. I was just cursed with a high IQ. Apparently, it wasn't high enough for me to see something that was in plain sight," he muttered before popping a couple of beer nuts into his mouth. "Now, what might I ask you mean by all that? Cursed with intelligence? I quite doubt that." Al frowned at her. "What do you know of it?" She smiled at him. "My IQ is 163, Admiral. I know exactly what it is like to be surrounded by people who assume they're smarter than you because they're scientists and you're not." She proceeded to order a couple of drinks from the bartender. Al looked away from her. "You're an historian, not an admiral." "History is a hobby," she told him. "Actually, I'm a physical therapist by profession. I used to be a secretary at Oxford University." As she said this, the bartender quickly place the drinks she had ordered before her and Al. Al stared at the drink with uncertainty. "Go ahead," the woman beckoned. "I though you might like to try a good Irish stout. Actually, I surprised they have one here." She paused. "Don't want it?" Al exhaled. "It's not that. I just think I'd better stop before I go too far." The woman smiled. "Now, you aren't going to insult me by not accepting a drink on me, are you?" She took a drink of the beer in front of her. Al looked at the beer for a moment before he slowly picked it up and took a drink. He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Strong," he commented. "Not American, that is certain," she smiled at him. Al took another drink. "You know who I am but I don't even know your name," he finally told her. "Cathy. Cathy Kellington." Al extended his hand towards her. "Pleased to meet you, Cathy." Cathy accepted the hand. "The night is young yet, Admiral. Plenty of time to get to know each other." "Al." "Very well, Al." She raised her mug to him. "Cheers." The two drank together.