Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1999 22:24:26 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Mirror - part 8 Message-ID: Quantum Leap Mirror Of Deception by Katherine Freymuth and Gary Marsh Copyright 1998 Part 8 Al's ill feelings towards Verbina hadn't left by the time he arrived home, though they had diminished a little. He just couldn't understand how she, of all people, could be so blind to his needs. After all, she not only was a psychiatrist, she was his friend. He exhaled as he slipped off his turquoise jacket and laid it on the couch. "Al, is that you?" Al smiled slightly as Cathy's voice and the scent of chicken reached him. "It's me," he answered, entering the kitchen. "What's this?" Cathy gazed over her shoulder as she stirred something in a large plastic bowl. "Just dinner," she told him. "It's the least I can do to pay you back for all you've done for me." Al wrapped his arms around her waist. "Smells good," he commented, kissing her neck. She laughed. "Do you mean dinner or my perfume?" "Both," Al told her as he pulled away. "Did you get your things?" Cathy nodded. "Hope you don't mind that I've already put them in the guest's bedroom." Al shook his head. "I don't mind at all," he told her as he sat at the kitchen table with a sigh. Cathy looked at him with concern. "What's wrong, Al?" Al gave her a small smile. "Some minor problems at work, that's all." Cathy stopped stirring and sat beside Al at the table. "What kind of problems?" Cathy asked, hiding her hopes behind a veil of concern. Al shook his head. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to pour out five years of almost continual stress and say "to hell with the rules." But to say "to hell with the rules" was also to say "to hell with Sam." Al wasn't ready to do that. "Nothing to worry about," Al answered her. Cathy gave him a kind smile and touched his hand. "They don't appreciate you, Al, do they? You feel like you're being used." Al looked at her with slight surprise. "Yeah," he told her quietly. He shook his head. "I do all the work. I keep the place going and they just lay more responsibilities on my shoulders. Everyone else's troubles, everyone else's feelings come before mine." He paused. "I'm a Rear Admiral in the United States Navy but I feel like an over-glorified secretary." Cathy touched his chin, making him look at her. "I know how you feel, Al. I was a secretary, remember? I was burdened constantly with responsibilities too." She looked into his eyes. "Those kind of people just don't understand people like us. I'm a red-headed Irish woman. When they look at me, they don't see intelligence, especially since I chose not to join their scientific clique. They look at me and see me dressed in a ratty apron, holding a rolling pin, and warning them they had better not be gettin' any dirt on m' clean floor." She exaggerated her accent at the end to make herself sound less intelligent. Al turned away from her slightly. "It isn't right," he said quietly. "Aye. It isn't right," she agreed. "And I can see that it's just as bad for you. Don't you feel that, when people look at you, they see the stereotype of the military officer? How many times have you heard that military intelligence is an oxymoron? How many quips have you heard about your Italian heritage?" Al closed his eyes. "Please, stop," he requested quietly. Cathy gently turned his head. "Al, I don't say these things to hurt you. You know it's all true. Most people don't understand us so they don't appreciate us." Al exhaled before nodding slowly. "I know. It's just hard to realize that it's my closest friends who are treating me so." I know it is," Cathy told him, standing and going behind him. She started to massage his shoulders. Al sighed in relief at the touch of her hands. "Mark treated me horribly," Cathy told him. "It didn't matter what I wanted; he had to have what he wanted whenever he wanted it, no matter what it was. That's why I divorced him." Al's eyebrows rose. "Your ex-husband's name is Mark?" "Yes," she answered. "Why?" Al glowered slightly. "That's the name of the bastard my ex-girlfriend is going to marry." Cathy smiled involuntarily, glad that Al couldn't see her face. "I'm sorry," she lied. Al shook his head slightly. "It's not your fault," he told her. "Quite a coincidence, though, with the names." Cathy nodded. "Yes, it is." She stopped massaging him and went to the stove to take out the dinner that was baking. "Almost burned it," she commented as she put the pan on the counter. She picked up the bowl she had been tending before and began to stir again. Al frowned with curiosity. "What are you making?" "Dessert," Cathy answered with a smile. "Chocolate creme pie." Al stood and walked over to her. "I love chocolate," he told her. "So I've noticed," she replied. "You do have a sweet tooth, don't you." Al laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do." Cathy turned to him, a spoon of pudding in hand. "Try it. Tell me what you think." Al tasted the pudding and, as he did so, Cathy shared the spoon with him, licking his bottom lip in the process. Al laughed slightly and pulled away gently. "Sneaky, aren't you?" Cathy gave him a devilish smile. "You haven't seen anything yet."