Date: Thu, 18 Jun 1998 22:46:54 -0400 (EDT) From: Ann Marie Tajuddin Subject: path - epilogue Message-ID: Ann Marie Tajuddin Off the Beaten Path Epilogue ------ "Off the Beaten Path" - Epilogue May, 1988 Nant, NC Sam had dedicated the afternoon to hunting out Al Calavicci. He had some forms he needed signed and, besides, he wanted to formally introduce himself to the man who had given him his first real shot at easing towards what he really wanted to do. The problem was, every time he seemed to be free, Calavicci's office was empty. Finally, as a last ditch effort before he left for the day, he asked a clerk on the way from his final trip to the admiral's office. "Admiral Calavicci?" the clerk said. "Oh, yeah, he's back in the building. I saw him headed down to the basement. Worked through lunch and probably needs a sugar fix from the vending machines." The young man wrinkled his nose. "I'd never touch the stuff that comes outta those contraptions myself." Sam thanked the young man and followed his directions to the elevator and then the lower levels. The admiral had to have been hungry - it was practically evening. It was apparent that these rooms were used primarily for storage. Very few people were roaming the halls. Sam asked one of them where the vending machines were and then headed towards them. As he neared the location, Sam heard what sounded like muttering and then a yelled curse. The young man stopped in his tracks, wondering if this was something he should wait on. The papers he held out in front of himself in anticipation, clenched in a tight fist, lowered slowly to his side. The sound of someone whacking a hard surface with the palm of a hand reached him and he started walking again, slower this time. As he rounded the corner, he could see a man at the end of a long hall, searching a room diligently. Sam wondered what he was looking for. As the scientist advanced on his position, the small man's expression lit up, as if he had finally located the item he was seeking. Sam barely had time to let out a cry of alarm as the man swung around on his heel and crashed the object straight through the face of the machine. The object was, Sam noted at second glance, a hammer. Sparks flew everywhere and shards of glass littered the floor like a prey spilling blood at its predator's feet. "Hey!" Sam yelled and broke into a run. "Stupid machine!" the man yelled and lifted the hammer again, bringing it down from above this time. He didn't even notice Sam's arrival into the small room. Sam reflected on his position. The hammer to the vending machine action was obviously a much-needed release and the machine itself was no longer to be saved anyhow. He slipped over onto the other side of the warrior and unplugged it. The few remaining lights fizzled to darkness, but still the man didn't seem to care. He swung again and again until sheer exhaustion led him to stop. All the while, Sam watched him quietly from behind; he could almost _feel_ the anguish fighting to get out. And, still, the release didn't seem to be fulfilling that need. Sam couldn't help but wonder if it was because he needed a different type of release. It was when he uttered a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and leaned forward unsteadily that Sam moved to him. "Okay," he said as calmly as he could. "Trust me, the machine's had enough." He reached for the hammer dangling from his companion's hand, which was his first mistake. "Let go!" When Sam didn't immediately respond, the man pushed him away roughly, causing him to stagger into the wall. "Dammit, I said let go of me!" Sam looked carefully at his face. Olive skin, dark, curly hair tamed with a military haircut, deep, black eyes... There was no doubt in Sam's mind that he'd found the person he was looking for. There was also no mistaking the smell of alcohol on his breath. The admiral teetered again and then reached out to catch himself. Unfortunately, the shattered mass of wires and glass was the closest thing to him and he grabbed for it. Sam watched the jagged corners slice into the admiral's left hand with more than just a mental wince. Calavicci didn't even appear to notice. Sam grabbed for the weapon again. "Admiral, give me the hammer." He tugged at it for a moment and then Calavicci surrendered it reluctantly. Sam laid it carefully on the floor, then tried to take his other hand to examine the damage. Immediately, the admiral pulled away. "Get away from me," he said angrily. Sam was still not sure if the man was really seeing him or not. "Go away! Leave me alone." "You're hurt. I'm a doctor. Let me look at your hand," Sam said sharply. Blood was starting to stain the cuff of his shirt. "Why should you care?" he demanded. "Because," Sam returned, still keeping his distance, but looking for an opportunity, "if you stop caring you may as well be dead." The admiral leaned against the wall and slid slowly to the floor. "I tried to care - I really did." He moved forward, as if to bury his face in his hands, and then stared at his left palm as if he'd never seen blood before. *The man is a wreck,* Sam thought sorrowfully to himself. *Isn't there anyone to make sure he's okay?* Sam knelt down beside him. "Let me see your hand. I want to help." Numbly, the admiral offered Sam a look at it, the fight finally draining out of him. Even so, he was eyeing Sam with the deep suspicion of a wounded animal. "Admiral Calavicci, right?" Sam asked as he pressed his handkerchief to the man's palm. "So?" he demanded defiantly, as if he expected a challenge at every turn. "Why don't you let me drive you home?" "I don't need to be babysat," he snapped, snatching his hand back and cradling it against his chest. "Who the hell're you?" "Dr. Sam Beckett," Sam replied offering his hand. It seemed a tad ridiculous under the circumstances, but he couldn't think what else to do. He wasn't entirely surprised when his companion refused to respond in kind. "Let me drive you home," he repeated. "Where do you live?" "I don't need your charity." *I'm not so sure.* "Is it far?" Sam persisted. Calavicci hesitated. "No." "Then let me take you home, Admiral. It's getting late." He glanced up into the admiral's eyes and was surprised to see them glistening with unshed tears. "Why?" Sam shrugged and watched him struggle to his feet. He fought not to offer a helping hand. "Humor me." The admiral snickered. "Well, lookie here. It's the original Boy Scout." Sam winced, but didn't respond as he followed the admiral back to the elevator. They rode up in silence. Sam was going to have the older man wait while he brought the car around, but then thought twice about that. He wasn't so sure it was a good idea for the admiral to be out in the lobby area in the condition he was in by himself. In fact, he figured it wasn't such a good idea to be near _anyplace_ where the walls had ears. "I parked in the lower level. Can you get there?" He glared. "I just cut my hand; I didn't break my hip." The drive back proceeded mostly in silence, broken only by the sporadic directions the admiral was offering and the medical questions Sam was asking regarding his hand. The small glimpse Sam'd had told him that he might be able to get away without stitches, but he knew he needed a longer look at it before he could accurately make that determination. When they got to the house, Sam got out with him without being told and without asking if it was all right. The house itself was a nice, two story brick home. It was the stuff storybooks were made of - a window box on all the downstairs levels, a garden out front that seemed to consist largely of calla lilies, and a small front porch. There was a note taped to the door. "Took the girls out to shop for summer clothes. Won't be back until after dinner. -Beth" Calavicci read it silently, tore it off the door, and unlocked it. He made it all the way back to the kitchen with a purposeful stride, Sam trailing him the entire way. He seemed to know Sam was there, but didn't ask him to leave. "You see that?" he demanded suddenly, looking at the stove. Sam was confused. "What?" "That," he said in a tone that indicated the problem should be obvious. He took a step closer and pointed. "The light over the stove is on." Sam shrugged. The admiral walked next to the stove. "Beth, my wife, she leaves it on when I'm out late." His voice became softer as he went on. "She told me once...that she left it on for the entire six years I was in Vietnam." Sam swallowed. "I'm supposed to turn it off when I get in, but I haven't for the past two months." "Why not?" Sam's voice was equally quiet. "I dunno, I...never really felt like I was home again. I keep waiting for her to give up and turn it off, but she never does." Sam watched him carefully. He could see the layers of hurt and the barriers of protection within the man. "Why don't you turn it off?" he suggested slowly. His wife was obviously a patient person, but it didn't seem to be enough for him right now. In fact, it only seemed to make him more frustrated. His companion hesitated. "No..." "Do you want me to do it?" "No," he said, but the answer came even slower this time. Sam was bound and determined that, before he left the house, that light would be off. It would be a small victory, anyhow. Thinking furiously, Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and felt something cool touch his right hand. At first, a puzzled expression crossed his face, and then realization hit. "AJC & EMC," the ring had said. Smiling, he pulled it out. "Someone gave me this earlier...I guess maybe he found it or whatever." Sam held out the ring. "He said to tell you...to let it remind you, and that the rest would fall into place from there." He shrugged as if he couldn't make sense of that statement when, in reality, he suspected the stranger knew this man better than he himself did. The admiral took the small ring of gold carefully, as if afraid it would turn to dust at his touch. Sam wanted to urge him to put it on, but he had the feeling that to push at this moment would have more of a negative effect than a positive on. Instead, he just watched the man finger it, watched him read the inscription over and over. "I thought...I mean, I'd already lost the first one in that hell hole. I tried to tell myself that losing the second wouldn't be any more of a..." He trailed off again and Sam frowned, trying to keep up with his companion's train of thought. Closing his eyes, as if afraid it would hurt, the admiral finally slid the ring on and then let out a long breath. Sam could tell by the silence he let hang there that Calavicci seemed uncomfortable with where he had taken the conversation, so Sam changed the topic temporarily to medical matters. "Why don't we rinse that cut out?" The admiral just glared at him. "I'll be fine, Doctor." "Sam," he corrected, trying to nudge the man in the direction of the sink. "I've never been all that formal." Calavicci stared at him for a moment. "My friends call me Al," he told him, then reached to turn on the tap. Sam turned that one over in his mind, trying to decide if it was an invitation or not. Then, with a small smile, he said, "Nice to meet you, Al," and moved to study the damage. +And that's it! Thanks again for all the wonderfully kind comments you guys have sent me this story. I have another one finished and, as always, after it undergoes some editing, it'll be out. It's called "Basis of Control". Hopefully I can start getting those parts out by July. Thanks again! -amkt