From: kitkin@aol.com (Kitkin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative
Subject: WHATEVER IT TAKES 8/9
Date: 10 Jun 1996 12:19:04 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Message-Id: <4phhto$lrq@newsbf02.news.aol.com>

WHATEVER IT TAKES PART 8

    The bus terminal's bathroom was everything Sam imagined it
would be, and maybe a bit worse. The floor was wet in several
areas, probably due to a leak in the plumbing. At least he hoped
that's what it was, although, with the odor that permeated the
place, you couldn't be sure. Sam noted that one of the stalls was
already occupied,"Probably the only one that works." he
grumbled to himself, as he chose one futher down. At least it
had a partial roll of paper in it.
   With that now taken care of, Sam stepped up to the grimy
mirror over the sink and finally saw what he looked like. "No
wonder they didn't like me hanging around in the hall." he said as
he took off his hat and tried in vain to rake his hair into place with
his fingers. He then ran some water in the sink, and commenced
to dowse his filthy face and hair.Using the liquid soap dispenser,
which by a miracle actually had some soap in it, he lathered his
head and face. With his head down in the sink and the water
running, he didn't hear the stall door open,nor the man from
inside it walk up behind him.
  When Sam rinsed the soap from his eyes, and was finally able
to re-open them,  he noticed the feet and pants of a man
standing behind him, waiting patiently for his turn at the sink.
"OH, I'm really sorry!" Sam offered appolgetically. He quickly
began to squeeze the excess water from his hair. Brownish-gray
rivulets ran down the drain, and then trailed off onto the floor, as
Sam turned from the sink with his dripping head still bent down.
After all, what was a little more water on the floor going to hurt.
As he attempted to dry his hair on a handful of paper towels, he
could hear the man now washing his hands. Feeling the need to
appologize once again, he began,"I really am sorry for taking up
the sink like that, I..." but, Sam's explanation was cut off now by
the other man,  "Hey, no problem. BOY, your hair was really
yuck-o!"
  Sam's head shot up suddenly at the sound of the man's voice
and choice of words. As he whipped his head up, water sprayed
from the tips of his hair,  and significantly pelted the other man.
"Watch it will ya! This is one of my favorite suits!"  Sam looked
through stringy wet hair that hung down in his eyes. He felt a
flood of emotions at the sight of the rather short, flamboyantly
attired man who was now drying his hands, and smiling. "How'ya
doin' Sam?" he said, with the pattented  nonchalance that was
pure Calavicci.
   "Al?" Sam said shakily."Al, is it really you?" As Al leaned over
to look into the mirror he replied casually, "Let me
check....uh..yep, it's me all right. Whadda'ya mean is it me, of
course it's me!" he laughed. He looked back toward Sam, to see
tears running down his face, and a smile that nearly broke his
heart. He knew how much he had missed Sam, but was only
now getting a hint of how much Sam had missed him, needed
him. Walking up to Sam, he put his arms around him and said,
"I'm here buddy, I'm here."
    All those years of leaping in, fixing things up for total
strangers, then leaping out again just when he'd gotten to know
them, and care about them. All of the times of getting into fights,
or maybe even killing someone. Knowing the joy of falling in
love, time and again, only to know the pain that came when he'd
have to leap out. And of course, always wanting, but never
making it back home, or even completely remembering back
home. But through it all, Sam had always had one constant,...Al.
   Now, probably for the first time since he had started leaping
alone, he knew just how much of a difference it made. To once
again feel his friend close by......
   "FEEL? Al, I can feel you!!" Sam shouted suddenly, as he held
Al away at arms length and stared wide-eyed at him. Al smiled at
him, and simply replied,"Ain't that a kick in the butt?" Both of
them laughing now, they embraced again in a joyful bear-hug,
each slapping the other on the back.
    A small prim looking man with glasses walked into the men's
room. He lowered his glasses and peered over them prudishly at
the odd twosome. Noticing the little man, Al loudly cleared his
throat to signal Sam. They seperated themselves with
embarassed glances at the be-specktacled intruder. Sam began
to wash his hands and Al busied himself in the mirror
straightening his tie. The little man shook his head, and with a
disgusted look on his face said,"Tsk-tsk-tsk, there ARE hotels for
that sort of thing." As he ducked into one of the stalls, Al piped
up, " Know any?"
   Leaving the bathroom, they went into the main bus terminal
and sat on a bench. It felt odd, but great to be able to talk openly
to Al during a leap, and not look like a complete loon. Talking in
low tones so as not to draw attention to the subject of their
conversation, Al explained how, with Sammie Jo's new
technique, he had come to bring Sam back. He carefully avoided
bringing up anything about the bar, or how things had turned out
with Beth. The important thing, was just for Sam believe that he
was finally going to get home. As they talked, neither of them
paid attention to the skinny badly dressed young man who was
now lurking near the entrance of the restrooms hallway.
  Sarah Bateman sat on the cushioned bench that was along one
wall of the ladie's room. With her back against the wall, she drew
her knees until she could rest her chin on them. As she sat
balled up on the bench, she closed her eyes and thought
miserably of how she had gotten to this point. It's not like she
had an abusive homelife or anything, in fact she'd had it pretty
good. Her parents were complete squares of course, but whose
weren't? Her dad was always busy with work, either in his office
down town or the one he had at home. And her mom was
always trying to maintain their upper middle-class status by
joining this club, or that function. In short, Sarah  felt ignored.
   When you coupled this sort of mindset, with a friend who had
convinced her that the only way to make parents notice you, was
to disappear for a few days,  you ended up on a bus heading for
San Fransisco. "Not that being in San Fransisco is that big of a
deal," she commented to herself. "I've always wanted to see it.
After all, Eureka's not exactly the entertainment capitol of
California. Boy, if I'd had enough money, I'd have gone all the
way to L.A."
   But money was definitly the problem, because Sarah was now
flat broke, and out loud she chastised herself,  "But no, I had to
go and spend the last of my money on this dumb jacket!"  She
had seen it in the gift shop at their last stop. So what if the only
one they had left was a medium instead of a small, she thought
it looked 'very cool', and bought it on impulse. Running away had
seemed so grown-up for some reason in the beginning, but now
she was only felt hungry, tired and very foolish for having
listened to her friend. Sarah began to cry into her not so cool
jacket.
    Rick the Slick moved gradually down the hallway, so as not to
attract any unwanted attention. "Purty soon m' little honey's
gonna come outta there," he whispered hungrily to himself,
"Then, I'll show her a good time." Rick wheezed a sleazy laugh
as he added, "A reeeeeal good time!"
   It wasn't long after that, that Sarah emerged from the
bathroom. She saw what appeared to be a kind of a cowboy
standing just outside the door in the hallway.  " 'scuse me miss,"
he drawled amiably enough, " but could you please tell me if my
wife is through in there yet, she's wearing..."
   Sarah cut him off in mid description, " There's no body else in
there, are you sure she went in?" Now this was exactly what he
was hoping to hear. "Well now m'be we'd jes better go check n'
make sure, huh baby?" he said as he suddenly took her by the
arm and started to push her back  through the door. It all had
happened too quickly for Sarah to react in time, and she began
to cry as the door closed behind them.

   "I'm tellin' you Sam, all we need to do is put on our little suits,
give the hand-link a ' beam me up Scotty', and we're home." Al
assured him. Sam sat looking concerned and doubtful. " But
what about all the wrongs that still need to be put right Al? Don't
I have a moral obligation to the people that I could help? If I don't
do it, then what happens to them?"  Al rubbed a hand across his
face and sighed." Listen to me Sam, it's not all on your
shoulders." Then, pointing upward, in an exagerated whisper he
said,"Don't you think maybe HE has a little something to do with
this?" Sam appeared to be considering this for the moment, and
seizing the opportunity,  Al employed a purely emotional lever,
"We just want you to come back home Sam."
   Sam slumped back against the bench with a loud sigh, " I've
been wanting to go home ever since I started leaping," he said,
as his voice choked with sadness. " but like it or not Al, I've got
the ability to make the world a better place, and...."
"Sheesh," Al enterupted,   "and I thought Ziggy had the big ego."
Sam stared mutely, taken aback by Al's remark.
"O.K. Sam," he continued, "if your job is to put right what's gone
wrong, did you ever stop to consider that all the wrongs aren't
necessarily out here?" he spread his arms in a sweeping motion
as he spoke.  He looked at Sam, and could see the impact as
this new possibility was being processed.
  Leaning forward now, Sam said , "You're trying to tell me that I
need to go home," he paused momentarily, "that I'm needed
THERE, aren't you?" he asked. He searched  his friend's eyes
as if they would tell him what Al himself might not be willing to. Al
remained silent, and gave no clue. He knew now what the
bartender had been trying to explain to both of them, about Sam
being in control. In order for Sam to go home, he first had to feel
right about it.  The only way to accomplish this, was with the
knowledge that it was his own conscious decision to go home,
and that his work in other people's lives was finished....at least
for now.

    Rick shoved the frightened girl onto the bench. She turned
back toward him, and began to speak in terrified sobs,"Please
don't hurt..." Her plea was cut off sharply by a brutal slap from
Rick's hand.  "You got anything else to say baby?"  Sarah
cringed against the wall, as tears ran down her face to join with
the blood that was now coming from her lip.
   "Don't you have no bread?!" Rick barked as he flung the
leather purse he'd been rifling through
across the room. Sarah shook her head as she stared out of
horror stricken eyes.
With a smirk on his cruel face, he said, "Well, well, I guess we
jus' gonna hafta put you to work on the streets then, won't we?
Cain't make it in the city, if you're broke, now can ya?" Sarah
only sat there in mute terror. Rick cocked back his fist this time
instead of an open hand, as he hissed through his teeth,"I said,
CAN YOU!?" She tried to press herself even closer against the
wall as she rapidly shook her head back and forth.
   "What's this?" he asked, not really looking for a reply. He held
up the demim jacket admiringly. Putting it on he said,"Looks like
I got me a new jacket." Stepping over to the mirror, he checked
himself out, then turned back to Sarah. "O.K. baby, now let's see
what 'skills' you got to offer, b'fore we put ya to work." He
wheezed a hateful laugh, as he undid his belt.
.....................CONTINUED IN PART 9.........................