From: "M. Cogburn" Date: Sat, 5 Dec 1998 13:50:45 -0600 Subject: Portraits Of The Past, Part 17 Chapter Seventeen The sun's beams came in through the window and fell on the couple in the bed. They were wrapped up together in each other's arms. Margaret's eyes flickered open and she drew in a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to be out of his arms. That would mean it would be over. She took another deep breath and sighed. Slowly, Margaret moved out of his embrace. He moaned in his sleep but didn't wake. She watched him for a moment sleeping and shook her head. She realized that she shouldn't have shaken her head. It was pounding. Her hand came up to her temple and she massaged it. She pulled her robe out of her closet and wrapped it around her and headed toward the kitchen. She had heard that coffee was good for a hang-over, that it helped sober you up. She went ahead and made coffee for Sam, then went back to her room to get dressed. She had to maintain her routine of jogging every morning -- hangover or not. She looked at him once she was dressed, and wanted to get back into her nightgown to join him. However, she grabbed a piece of paper from her desk and scribbled a note. She placed it on her pillow. It read: Be back soon. Went jogging. Love M." She leaned down over him and very softly kissed his lips. She grabbed her keys from the dresser, then left the house. Not but two minutes later, Al stepped out of the Imaging Chamber Door with his eyes wide. "What the . . ." He began as he saw Sam on Margaret's bed with a sheet precariously over him. "Margaret?" He called out but there was no response. He quickly went to Sam outstretched on the bed. "Sam." No response. "Sam!" He yelled. Sam quickly sat up in bed. "Wha . . . what?" He questioned sleepily. Realizing his mistake in sitting up so quickly, Sam grabbed his head and gingerly laid back down. "What's going on?" "You woke me up to ask me that? Couldn't you tell that I was sleeping?" "Sure, but where's Margaret?" "I don't know." He rubbed his eyes to help wake him. "Margaret?" When he received no answer, he turned to look at her pillow. He spied the letter. "Al, she's just jogging." "But, she could get hurt. All we have to go on is that she gets hurt today. Ziggy all ready gave another prediction. Actually, Ziggy says that today is the day but she doesn't know how it happens." Sam slowly moved to set up again. "I'm sure she's fine. Why don't you check on her?" "Good idea. Gooshie center me on Margaret." Al said as he used the handlink to interact with the program. Al disappeared from Sam's sight. He placed his hand on his head. It was throbbing. He needed to take something for it but he didn't know where Margaret kept the Tylenol. He smelled coffee brewing. At least that would begin to help. He stood and glanced down at what he was wearing. It was plaid shorts his mother had packed without him knowing. When he had changed into them last night, Margaret had giggled. As he shuffled into the kitchen, he thought about last night. He smiled as he thought about Margaret's reluctance to have sex. He had been reluctant to accept her response, because he had wanted to spend the night making love to her. Yet, he knew she was right. 'There are too many teenagers today who make unwise decisions,' he thought sadly. 'Perhaps they all will understand that abstinence is best until marriage,' he thought optimistically. He had to search the cabinets to find the coffee cups, then he poured himself a black cup of coffee. The first sip burnt his tongue. He set the cup down and looked in the pantry. He found two blueberry bagels. Licking his lips, he looked inside the refrigerator and pulled out the Philadelphia Cream Cheese. He grabbed a sharpened knife from the drawer, grabbed his cup and blew on the liquid in the cup. Knowing that Al would be coming back soon, he made his way to the couch with his breakfast. He wondered what was keeping Al so long. He must have found Margaret and was giving her a good talking to. He chuckled to himself as he thought of all the mini speeches that Al had given him in the past. He glanced at the portrait of Al's wife hanging on the wall. He had several chances during that leap when he could have told Beth that Al was alive. He stood and went to the portrait. He had told Al that he wasn't there to save their marriage. He was there to save a police officer from dying. Yet, now, he wished that he had told her. If he had, Al would still be happily married to Beth and possibly would have several children. He slowly lowered his head and shook it in dismay. There was a knock at the door and he turned to face it. He frowned thinking why would Margaret knock at her own door. "She must have forgotten her keys." He went to the door and opened it. He was surprised when he found Brian standing in the doorway. "Brian." Brian looked as if he hadn't any sleep. He had black circles under his eyes and his hair stuck out wildly. "Jason." He addressed him. "Is Margaret home?" "No. She went out to jog." Sam placed his hand on the door frame and shifted his weight to his hand. "Good." Brian shoved Sam back into the living room and slammed the door behind him. Sam tensed and prepared for the worse. Sam could smell alcohol oozing from every pore of Brian's body. He watched Brian carefully as he paced in front of him. Brian stumbled and lost his balance. He quickly recovered and spun to Sam. "What's going on here?" "What are you talking about, Brian?" Sam asked bewildered. "What's going on? God, Jason, you knew that I had a huge crush on Margaret and then you do this?" "Do what?" Brian slammed his hand into the wall. "You've always known that I wanted to be with Margaret, but no, you go after her anyway. I thought we were friends." "We are." Sam stated emphatically. "I didn't know that I would even start to like Margaret. I didn't even know her really until Ryan died and I had to go to those therapy sessions. You know that." "Yeah, right." Brian mocked him. He began pacing again. "It's true. Margaret and I were helping each other grieve for our loved ones. I began to fall in love with her then not just because you dated her once." Sam reasoned. "That's another thing." Brian began as he stopped pacing to turn back at Sam. "Why would you punch me? You thought I had sex with Margaret and that I was asking you if you had, right?" "Right." Sam nodded correctly. "Bullshit." Brian replied suddenly angry. "You punched me because you thought I had her before you did." "No." "God, I've dreamed about her and longed after her for so long and you had to . . . had to . . ." His words came in a low tone, one that was both bitter and hostile. "To have her." Sam finished his sentence for him. Enraged, Brian rushed at Sam thinking that he and Margaret had sex last night. He rammed Sam into the wall knocking the breath out of him. Brian pulled him away from the wall and his palm shot forward against Sam's chest. Sam's hand came up at the same time, moving at the same speed, striking with equal force. They staggered from the pair of blows, then charged at each other. They grabbed obviously for any hold they could manage. There was no attempt to think out a pattern of attack. Neither one of them able to pull back, to wait for a moment to knock the other off balance. Pushing and shoving, they broke apart, and then engaged again, punching each other with the same force as before mindless of the furniture in their way. Margaret and Al heard the commotion from outside and rushed in through the door. Margaret's eyes widened as she saw them fighting. She turned to Al who also was in shock. A well-placed thrust from Brian shot past Sam's shifting head. Another fist came up, wilder, more erratic -- an unanticipated blow helping it to connect. Brian leaped forward, getting his arms around Sam. The force of his attack staggered the pair. Both fell over, crashing to the floor. "Sam, Brian," shouted Margaret. "For God's sake, stop." There was nothing Margaret and Al could do to get their attention. They were consumed in their fight. They continued to thrash. Fists flew up from Brian on the bottom and down from Sam on the top. Cries of pain and fury told nothing. Sam tried to scramble away but Brian caught hold of Sam's leg behind the knee, twisting it, digging into the flesh and nerves behind it. Sam swung his fist blindly, connecting with Brian's head. He felt the agonizing pressure release from his leg. Punching in the code he needed for updates, Al read the handlink disconcertedly. Margaret was still going to die but still Ziggy couldn't predict how. Ziggy was predicting that there was a 58.7 percent chance that Margaret would die in the next twenty to thirty minutes. Margaret, however, watched as the fight presumed. She had to stop it. How, though? She questioned herself. Not thinking of herself, she rushed toward the pair on the floor. "No!" Al said as he reached for her but his hand passed through her arm. "Damn." A kick connected with a thud, followed by a choking sound and Al counted numbly as the numbers continued to climb. "63.2, .8, 72 . . ." Margaret approached them quickly. "Brian stop!" Trying to break them up was well intentioned, but badly mistimed. Brian had just gotten his hands around the long smooth handle of the knife that Sam had brought out of the kitchen. His swing went wild missing his target and cut Margaret's lower arm sideways about five inches above her wrist. Wincing in pain, she curled her arm to her chest and fleetingly glanced at Al. She lunged in between Brian and Sam only for Brian to swing the other way and cut her other arm. She stumbled to the floor as Brian jumped over the coffee table and lunged at Sam. Forgetting her injuries that were bleeding heavily, she went toward them again determined to stop the fight. "Stop it!" She screamed. She got into between them again, not quite sure how she had succeeded and faced Brian. "Stop it, Brian." "Get out of the way!" Brian turned the knife around using the handle to hit her out of the way. The handle of the knife came brutally down on her left temple. "No!" Al screamed as he saw what was happening. Margaret's eyes slammed shut as the pain ripped through her. She had heard Al's scream and heard him calling her name. She tried to open her eyes but the pain kept them closed. "Al?" She questioned. The last thing she said before she lost consciousness was, "Sam?" "What have you done?" Al rose from where Margaret was and wanted to throttle Brian but knew he couldn't touch him. Brian stood bewildered at what had happened. He had just tried to get her out of the way. Now, she lay on the carpet with blood coming out of her arms and her head. "I was just getting her out of the way." Brian dropped to the ground beside her and caressed her face. Al tried to move his arm only for his hand to go through Brian's arm. "Sam, don't let him touch her." Al said defensively. "Brian, if you want to help her, go get some towels to try to stop the bleeding." Brian nodded mutely then went to find the towels. Sam began to look at her injuries. "Stay with her, Al." "Oh, Sam, there's so much blood. God, you can't do this. You . . . you just can't." He bowed his head and folded his hands together to begin to pray. As Sam called 911, he gave them explicit details on her condition and told them what had happened so that they would have it on record. He went back to her, placed her head in his lap and prayed. From far away, a siren screamed. The sirens came closer, and Sam looked toward the heavens gratefully, then he leaped.