From: bewalton17@aol.com (BEWalton17) Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: QL: The Enemy (Chapter 13) Date: 2 Dec 1998 05:01:36 GMT Message-ID: <19981202000136.27332.00000943@ng-fc2.aol.com> CHAPTER THIRTEEN Sid and Ruthie Weiss had a clock-radio alarm, and Sam awakened groggily to the sound of Toto, pining for Rosanna, Rosanna (all they wanted to do when they woke up in the morning was see her eyes, but they didn't know she was looking for more than they could ever be; Sam thought Sid Weiss could probably identify). Ruthie's side of the bed was still empty. He pushed away his covers, and let the sudden rush of cooler air shock him into a more alert state. Sid's navy blue bathrobe was hanging on a peg on the back of the bedroom door, and Sam pulled it on before going out into the hall. He went to the bathroom to wash up. He came out to a strong draft that was blowing across the main hall from an extra room at the front of the house. Through the door, Sam could see Ruthie sitting on the rail of an upstairs porch with one leg balancing her toward the house, looking up into the dismal grey sky. He went to her. "Aren't you cold?" She jumped, almost losing her balance. "Sid! I didn't hear you come in." "Sorry if I scared you." "Yeah, Sid, you're terrifying." She turned away from him again. "It's a miserable morning, isn't it?" Sam agreed. "I watched it come in. I was hoping it would get better. Maybe it still will." "Maybe." Sam put his hands on her shoulders, and she reached back to pat one. "You could come inside, where it's warm." "Oh, I'm sorry." She swung her other leg onto the porch. "You were cold." "Aren't you?" "I didn't even notice. I guess I am." "Did you get any sleep?" "Maybe a little. I'm not sure. Not much, anyway." She led them inside, and shut the French doors. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking. I couldn't stop." "Is it about Nate? About giving Al custody?" Sam asked, hoping that maybe Whoever-or-Whatever had decided to try something new, like working directly. Every time, he dies. No. That was not right. She shook her head rapidly. "No. It was a hard decision, but it's made and it's staying made." "Ruthie, if you have any doubts, you should pay attention to them. For Nate." She sat down at a small dressing table in the guest room, and pulled a comb from the top drawer. "Look, Sid," she said, starting to work on her snarls. "I appreciate your concern, but as you so eloquently put it, Nate is not your son; he's Albert's." She stopped combing her hair, and rested the comb on the table. "I didn't mean that. I mean, of course it's true, but... I didn't mean to snap at you like that." "It's okay." Sam leaned against one side of the dressing table, and touched Ruthie's face. "I really think you need to get some rest." She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep if I tried. There's too much going on in here." She tapped her forehead with her comb, the started struggling with her hair again. "I have to sort it out." "Is there anything you want to talk to me about? Like where 'home' is, and why you went there last night?" "I don't know the answers to those questions. I wish I did." She winced as she pulled her hair painfully, then gave up on the comb and tore the tangle out viciously with her fingers. "I'm sorry Sid," she said. I'm so sorry." "For what?" "Yesterday afternoon, I... " "I know about yesterday afternoon, Ruthie." "How?" "I could see it in your eyes." Sam wished that had been a lie, and wondered how much history he was changing just by being there to see it instead of Sid. He decided it didn't really matter; Sid probably had his suspicions anyway. Sam didn't think Al was new to their married life. He knelt in front of her, and put his hands on her knees. "I knew it when I came home yesterday." "Will you forgive me for it?" Sam sighed. "Ruthie, we're not talking about some little thing you did, like lie about going to your class last night." She started to say something, but Sam put his finger on her lips. "I *will* forgive you, but I need to know something, and I need you to be honest with me." "What?" "Did it have anything to do with your decision to give Nate to him?" "No." She shook her head. "Yes. Maybe. Not the way think." "What way, then?" "It made me think about what I was doing, and why I was doing it. I realized that I didn't have any good reason not to respect Nate's wishes." "Nate is five years old," Sam reminded her. "He's mature for his age and he's smart, but he doesn't always know what's best for him. All he knows is that Pop is all alone, and he wants to go down there because he loves him. That's a good reason, and if Nate was even three years older, it might be good enough, but right now I think he needs more looking after than Al can give him." "Just because Albert's single -- " "It has nothing to do with that," Sam said, although he supposed it was partly untrue; if Al had been married, it was at least possible that his wife would've been at home while he was out. But he did not believe that, as a general rule, single parenting was dangerous. "You know as well as I do that Al's going to get married again." And again, and again... "Then I don't understand -- " "All I'm saying is that Nate doesn't know what he needs." "He *needs* his father." Ruthie kissed Sam's cheek. "You're a good stepfather, Sid, but it's not the same, and you know it." "But -- " "Please, Sid. Just stay out of it." "Ruthie, please listen... " "Don't you understand, Sid? If I put my foot down now, I turn into the Blue Meanie, and Albert can suddenly walk on water." "But you'd just be looking out for him -- " "If he goes to Albert's for six months, and things don't work out, then they don't work out. If they do, then... " She shrugged. "I'll miss him, but if he's happier, maybe it's for the best." "What if... something happens in the next six months?" "What if lightning strikes this house in the next six minutes? Anything could happen, Sid. It could happen here as well as at Albert's." Sam let it go. The only option left was to tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and he had a feeling that God wouldn't help him much. "If you're sure, Ruthie." "I'm not sure, Sid. I'll never be sure. I don't think anyone can be. But I know that I've got to do something to make things... I don't know... *even* with Albert. If I don't, then our marriage is never going to stand a chance. And I *want* our marriage, Sid. It's the sanest thing in my life." There was a certain sense in what she was saying, although it was more visceral than logical. As long as she felt that Al had given up more, or lost more, than she had, she would feel herself a lesser being, and be susceptible to whatever power he had over her. Of course, if Al hurts Nate, she probably won't have any such compunction. Sam pushed it away. "I know you do, Ruthie," he said. She smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm going to go get dressed, then get breakfast." She started for the door. "Wait, Ruthie," Sam said, thinking that he should do what he could to safeguard the Weiss' marriage. He had a feeling that, new or not, the situation with Al was tolerated only when it was left unacknowledged. She turned and raised an eyebrow. "About what happened yesterday... I... Can we forget it happened, not talk about it anymore?" "Are you sure you don't want to talk it out?" "I'm sure." She thought about it and nodded dubiously, then left. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. If he did nothing else during this Leap, he had at least accomplished this. Sid Weiss wouldn't need to know about his wife's transgression. A metallic screech announced the opening of the Imaging Chamber Door. Sam turned to find Al standing a few feet behind him. "What happens to Sid and Ruthie?" he asked. "After all this over, I mean." "They were still together the last time I saw them," Al said. "But Ziggy says they get divorced in 1993. It's too bad. They have a little girl." "When?" "The end of June. Ruthie's pregnant now; she'll find out somewhere around the end of December." He smiled. "Nate was so excited. He was going to have a baby brother. I wonder how he'd have felt when it turned out to be a sister." "You'll get a chance to find out." "I hope so." "Look," Sam said. "I was just talking to Ruthie -- " "About last night?" "No, about custody." "Sam, I told you -- " "But I thought -- " "I don't care what you thought. This is my son's life we're talking about. What do I have to do to drive that fact home?" "I just don't want to hurt you." "I know you don't, Sam. But we've only got one chance to fix this. I don't want to blow it." "There's got to be something else." "Why does there have to be something else? Because you want there to be?" "Because it would be *fair*!" "Who in the hell made you think that everything could be fair?" "*You* did." Al looked up, surprised. Sam shook his head. "You go to bat for every little injustice you've ever seen. Why can't you go to bat for yourself for once?" "What do you think I'm doing? This is going to hurt you more than me. I've been living with it for the last fifteen years." Sam sat down on the chair beside the dressing table. "Look, I don't want to hurt Nate -- or me, for that matter -- but there's no other way." Sam looked toward the other guest room tentatively. "Maybe I could tell you." "No!" Al paled. "Jesus, Sam, it's too close." "But you'd believe, because of the thing with Lisa; we told you then." "I told a twenty-three year old kid whose brain was about to get Swiss-cheesed three more times anyway." "Three?" "Yeah... once to get back in time, once to get back to the Waiting Room, and once to go back home again. Believe me, there wasn't a chance in hell I'd remember it. I only know it now cause I was on the other end pulling the switches." "But now... " Al nodded. "Right. If you go into the guest room and tell me who you are and what's going to happen, I'll want to know more. And if I'd known what was going to happen to you, I'd've never let you build the damned Accelerator in the first place." Sam sighed. It was true. It would've never occurred to Al that it would cause a paradox; he would think of it as returning a favor. "Then what am I supposed to do?" "I told you last night. This time around, I'm the enemy." "I don't even know what you mean by that." "I mean that I'm -- " he gestured impatiently toward the guest room. "I'm the key to the Leap. I'm the one you need to attack." "Attack?" Sam repeated, alarmed. Al shook his head dismissively. "I don't mean you should get Ruthie's butcher knife off the kitchen wall and come after me. I just mean that I'm the only one whose going to change here." "But you said that I wasn't here to change your life... " "Well, you can't. Not the way you want to." "So what am I supposed to do?" He saw Al start to tense up again, and shook his head. "I mean, specifically." The Observer nodded. "I've been thinking about that." "And?" "After Nate died, I spent a lot of time thinking about my sister, Trudy. They split us up when my Dad died, and I remember the last time I saw her, I said, 'Don't worry, I'll get you out of there; whatever it takes.' Only she died before I did anything." "Before you *could* do anything," Sam interrupted him. "You were a kid, Al." Al didn't answer. "When I first met Ruthie -- God, this is going to sound sick, but it's true -- I used to pretend she really *was* my sister. I mean, I never said it to anyone or anything like that, but... I took care of her." "To make up for not being with Trudy?" "Sort of. She didn't have anyone, and I kind of *liked* that she thought she needed me around." "There's nothing wrong with that." "Nothing except that I ran away every other minute anyway. Do you know what happened to her after I left for the Academy?" "Al, look, you weren't her father. You couldn't just put off your life -- " "And I wound up doing the same thing to Beth. The Navy just gave me a real good excuse to run away from home every few months, and leave my wife alone to fend for herself. I didn't have to go back to 'Nam for the second tour. I *volunteered* to go off and play boy hero." Sam closed his eyes. "Is this going somewhere?" "It's the same thing I wound up doing to Nate. It's a pattern. Every time someone really counted on me, I screwed up." "I count on you," Sam said. "Will you drop it, Sam?" Al gave him a harsh look. "I don't care if it's real or not. I don't care if you believe me or not. The only thing that matters is that you can make *me* believe me. Make me learn that lesson a little sooner, without anyone else dying to pay the tuition." Sam took a step back, disoriented. Maybe if he'd been trained in strategy, as Al had, he would understand, and be able to focus on the final objective, but he hadn't been. All he could focus on was the dilemma Al was forcing him to face: hurt Al with his own misplaced guilt over things that were not his fault, or let a five-year-old boy burn to death. The priority was obvious, and, of course, there was always a chance to fix the other damage later, but it was still an agony in his heart. Al Calavicci was his best friend. He'd saved his life many times, and maybe (if he was right about that brief vision) his soul as well. He groped for something more familiar. "What does Ziggy say?" He gave it a second thought. "And I want to *see* the handlink, Al." Al held out the handlink without protest, which made Sam nervous. He bent over the tiny viewscreen while Al punched the scenario in. The number came up immediately. Ninety-seven percent. Sam straightened and looked at Al, who met his eyes with an implacable insistence. His stomach turned. "I can't do it, Al." Al turned away and opened the Imaging Chamber Door. He paused and turned back to Sam. "They identified Nate by his teeth, Sam." He went through the Door and closed it. Sam closed his eyes and listened to the echo which only he was left to hear. *** Ruthie had thought seriously about keeping Nate home from school for the day. He wasn't sick. To the contrary, he had virtually leapt out of bed this morning, eager to face the day. He'd come into the kitchen, eaten breakfast, and gone upstairs to wash up without any complaint. He and Sid had left in good spirits (God, Sid was being good to her; she didn't know if any other man would have been so understanding) about twenty minutes ago. He was quite healthy. Ruthie had wanted to keep him home for different reasons. First, she was going to let him go away soon, possibly permanently, and she could hardly bear the thought of losing a whole day of what precious time she had left. Second, if Nate was at home for the day, certain things were unlikely to happen. Things, for instance, like yesterday afternoon. In the end, she'd let him go. He loved Sid's class, and he had a lot of friends in it. It seemed selfish to keep him from them just to play chaperon for his parents. And besides, Sid would know exactly what her motives were, and she needed to make him believe that she could be trusted by herself. To do that, she would have to make *herself* believe it. She finished piling the breakfast dishes into the sink and turned on the water (Sid had bought her a dishwasher for her last birthday, but she never thought to use it). The rinse basin was half-full when Al came in behind her. She smelled him before she saw him, a mix of Old Spice, the faint but ever-present whiff of cigars that persisted even when he hadn't smoked for hours, and another, older scent, one that she didn't smell with her nose, exactly. She looked over her shoulder, and found him standing uncomfortably in the doorway that led to her studio. "Good morning, Albert," she said. He nodded. "Hey, Ruthie. How are you doing today?" "I'm okay. You?" "Okay." She turned back to her dishes. "Since you were nice enough to ignore my move yesterday, I decided not to fork your knight and your rook with my bishop." "I'm forever in your debt." "I moved a pawn instead." "Where to?" "I'm threatening your rook from the right. I'm being a nice guy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you wipe out my defenses." "Spoken like a true Navy man." She heard and felt him step further into the room. "You're beautiful, Ruthie. You really are." She could feel his eyes on her back; she was afraid to turn around and see him. "Remember, Albert, " she said, trying to cool things between them. "We agreed when he was born to raise Nate Jewish. You'll send him to Hebrew school when he's old enough?" "You know I have no religious preference, Ruthie. If you want him to go to Hebrew school, I'll send him. It's all the same to me." "That's all I ask." Good Lord, Ruthie, do you think this is self-control? Being afraid to turn around and look your ex-husband in the eye? Well, maybe not, but it was a start. A start to what? Letting him turn into some kind of demigod in your head again? Try a little self-respect, woman. It might just help. She took a deep breath, then turned off water and turned around. "I'm going to miss having him around here." "I wish there were a way to do this that would make all of us happy. I really do." He looked up at her, and their eyes met. Ruthie was surprised to see that there was something in his eyes that was as unsure as she felt. For the first time in many years, she remembered that Albert had always been even more overwhelmed by *that* part of their relationship than she had. He'd been the one who'd hesitated in the first place. "Me, too." Albert sighed and looked at her frankly. "Are we ever going to be friends again, Ruthie?" "Were we ever really just friends?" "There's no 'just' about it, Ru. Maybe it was always mixed up with everything else, but we were always friends. The guys at the orphanage used to rag the hell out of me about that." Ruthie laughed. "Sorry." "I didn't mind." He re-considered. "Okay, I minded. But it wasn't your fault. It was theirs." He leaned back against the counter. "You know what I remember, Ru?" "Sneaking into the movies," Ruthie suggested. Albert laughed and nodded. "How many times did we see _Rebel Without a Cause_?" "At least twenty." "Well, it was my first movie. I loved it." "I remember you begging me to teach you how to run my bike." He smiled. "And daring me to eat that _gefilte_ fish you brought over. You laughed at me for having a weak stomach. We used to laugh a lot. Do you think maybe we could get that back?" She shrugged and shook her head. "I guess anything's possible." "How?" She laughed. "Well, for starters, I think we both need to learn where the cold water tap is." He walked to the sink, leaned over the basins, and ceremoniously turned on the cold water. "That's this one, right?" He winked at her. She felt a smile trying to come to the surface of her face, as her hand inched back to the sink's sprayer attachment. "I'm not really sure," she said, drawing it to her hip. In a quick motion, she aimed it at his face and fired. "What do you think?" Al laughed, and made a grab for the sprayer, and suddenly the kitchen was a battleground, with water flying everywhere. It ran from Ruthie's hair down her shirt in cold rivers, and the wet sprayer nearly fell out of her hand when she reclaimed it. She felt the years drop away from them like scales, swirling into a cyclone of days and weeks and months. For a moment, they were in a time and place that could never have existed, but somehow always had between them. They were alone in this land, children with no walls between them, and no need to grow up. There was no Beth here, and no Sid. There was always Nathan, but he was a floating spirit, amorphous and benevolent. There had never been Vietnam, and no one had ever died. He was father-brother-son; she, mother-sister-daughter. Then they were back, adults with a lifetime of painful memories and anything but innocence between them. The edge of the sink was pressing coolly into Ruthie's lower back, and Albert's arm had somehow wrapped itself around her waist. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, and smell his skin beside her nose. Water was dripping off both of them and pooling at their feet. He stood back suddenly, dragged out of that other world by forces neither of them wanted or understood. He let go of the sprayer and let Ruthie slide away from him. "You'd better clean up and change before you pick Nathan up," Ruthie said stupidly, knowing full well that even the half-day students had another three hours before their parents could pick them up, and Nate was a full day student. "You can use my car. The keys are on the rack by the door." He nodded and started to leave, giving her a wide berth. At the kitchen door, he turned. "Cold's the one on the right, right?" Ruthie smiled and aimed the sprayer at him playfully, although she was still shaking. He disappeared up the stairs. When she heard the shower go on in the bathroom, she turned the sprayer on herself, and cooled down. After a minute, she gathered a few towels, and started cleaning up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Barbara