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"Admiral?"
Al didn't bother to turn around at the sound of Gooshie's voice. He continued to stare out the window behind his desk into the dark New Mexico winter night and responded with irritation, "Yeah?"
"Uh, we were wondering if you knew where the tree lights were?"
"What?" Al finally swivelled around in his chair to face the nervous programmer who was beginning to think this hadn't been the best time to bother the project observer.
"The lights? For the tree? They've got it up in the staff lounge and they need the lights, but no one can remember where they are," he explained.
No wonder, Al thought. No one's put up a Christmas tree in five years, not since before...
"How should I know?" he exploded. "I've got better things to do than search for goddamned Christmas tree lights, and I would think you did too!"
"Yes, sir. Sorry." Gooshie had already backed halfway out the door. Al swivelled around again as the programmer vanished.
"Damn it, Sam," he said as he resumed his contemplation of the darkness, "where are you?"
It had been almost five weeks since Sam had leaped out of pro-basketball player Donnie Marvin, after preventing a fellow player from sustaining a career-ending injury. Five weeks. It had never been that long before.
From the very beginning there had always been a time lag between Sam's leaps, even though they seemed instantaneous to the decade-hopping scientist. In the entire time since Sam had begun his odyssey, there had always been at least a week from the time he leaped out until a new person appeared in the waiting room wearing Sam Beckett's face. As soon as this pattern had been discerned, the staff had taken advantage of these gaps to relax, to take time off, to resume briefly a reasonably normal life.
The last four Christmases had fallen during this "downtime," making it easier for the staff to spend the holiday with their families. Only a small contingent of essential personnel had remained.
And Al. Always Al.
Somehow he couldn't face the thought of spending Christmas anywhere else... with Sam still lost in the past. Here, at the project, with the skeleton crew kept busy pulling double duty, he could immerse himself in work. There was always so much paperwork to catch up on. He could pretend it was just another day... nothing special.
But invariably, sometime about midnight on Christmas Eve, he would find himself thinking about Sam, the double-edged feelings of guilt and betrayal surging up in him at being left alone. He'd be mad at Sam, at Gooshie for not stopping the physicist, at the senate committee who constantly made him fight to keep the project, and Sam, alive from year to year, mad at the world. But mostly, he was mad at himself for not seeing that the pressure of threatened cutoffs in funding would send his friend into precipitously stepping into the accelerator and into a non-stop tour of the past, alone and in constant danger.
The insiders among the staff had come to know how this time of year affected the admiral and gave him a wide berth. Normally, Gooshie would never have entertained the thought of intruding upon him on Christmas Eve, but this year wasn't normal.
Almost all of those with high-level clearance, the ones who knew the truth about their project head's unexplained absence, were spending their Christmas here. They all knew Sam was way overdue and no one had wanted to risk being away if something critical happened. There was a lot of tension and a lot of worry. Then someone had come up with the idea of having a Christmas Eve party, putting up a tree, singing carols.
Well, Al thought, maybe the rest of them could find something to celebrate, but he wasn't about to join in. He wasn't going near the lounge. He'd just sit in here alone with his guilt and his anger.
And his fear.
So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he failed to hear the knock on his office door or realize he was no longer alone.
"Admiral?"
He jumped at the closeness of the voice behind him and spun around to see who it was before he bit off their head. The angry response died in his throat when he saw it was the newest addition to the Project Quantum Leap staff, his new civilian aide.
"Gooshie said you were up here alone and I thought you could maybe use some company."
Al couldn't suppress a smile. There were probably only two people in the world who could get away with saying something like that to him right now; only two people who would even think to try. One was Sam Beckett; the other was Teresa Bruckner.
"You can stop playing mother hen, Teri," he tried to lighten his tone. "You don't have to nurse-maid about me."
"Oh, no?" she demanded, anger coloring her voice. "The rest of the staff is concerned about Sam too, but there's nothing we can do until he leaps in and we're doing our best to get our minds off our worries, not closing ourselves off to wallow in self-pity."
His head came up sharply, pinning the young woman with a look that would have instantly stopped anyone else in mid-sentence. Either Teri didn't recognize the warning or had the courage to ignore it. Al would bet on the latter.
"You know everyone out there would like to be spending Christmas with their families. The least you could do is come down and thank them."
"Why?" Al jumped out of his chair. "I didn't ask them all to stay."
"You didn't have to," Teri replied quietly. "Do you know not a single person from Levels 9 or 10 asked to leave?"
He was a little surprised at that. "Well, it's good to know they're all loyal to the project."
Teri shook her head. "Al, people don't give that kind of loyalty to things, even something this important; they give it to people they care about."
Al smiled. "Yeah, you're right, but this project is a person they care about. Sam's always had something that makes people want to stick by him. He's one of the good guys. It's easy to be loyal to someone like that."
"It's been five years since anyone but you has seen Sam," she reminded him. "There are a lot of people in that lounge tonight who signed on after Sam first leaped. Yes, there's a strong allegiance to Sam, but every person here tonight stayed at least in part because they are devoted to you."
"Me?" He looked at her in disbelief.
"Yes, you." She smiled impetuously. "And you, my friend, are not so easy to be dedicated to. In fact, sometimes you make it damned hard!"
"Why would they be loyal to me?" Al scoffed.
"Because you've held everything together around here for the past five years. Because they see you fighting for this project every day. Because they see you giving everything you've got to help Sam every time he leaps. They know that you're the kind of guy who would do anything for his friend. You're a good guy, Al." She took a deep breath. "You told me once that Sam could always bring out the best in you. Well, maybe you've brought out the best in the rest of us."
Al squinted at her. "Are you sure Sam hasn't leaped into you? You're starting to sound a lot like him."
Teri laughed. "Why, Admiral, I think that's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me."
Al smiled in spite of himself as his mind went back to the first time he'd met little four-year-old Teresa Bruckner. Sam had leaped into her mother in order to save her brother, Kevin's life. It was the first time they realized that young children could see not only Sam as he really was, but Al as well. She had completely enchanted the observer and made him realize for the first time how much he'd missed by never having children of his own. After the leap, Al had broken the rules and sought out Teresa in his own time. She was all grown up by then, her mother had just died and it looked as if she'd never be able to fulfill her dreams of going to college. Al had taken her under his wing, providing the money for her education and arranged for her to replace his military aide, arguing to the senate committee that since she already knew about the existence of the project, there was no point in not granting her clearance. She had joined the staff just two months ago, and Al couldn't be happier about it. Now he'd allowed his anger to be misdirected at her. He wouldn't blame her if she walked out, but somehow he was certain she wouldn't.
He bowed his head and looked up at Teri contritely. "I'm sorry I jumped down your throat, munchkin, but Christmas brings out the grinch in me. Anyone could've told you to stay clear of me tonight."
"They did," she admitted.
He smiled and nodded appreciatively, "Brave girl."
"Nah." She shook her head. "They've just never seen the other side of you. They've never had you sing them to sleep or entertain them with holographic dinosaurs. You don't fool me, Admiral Albert Calavicci, underneath that flamboyant, but hard-nosed exterior, you're just an old softie."
"Ouch!" Al put his hand to his chest, mortally wounded.
She held out her hand. "Come on, help me find those lights. We don't want a dull, dark Christmas tree, now do we?"
A pained look crossed his face, but Al took her hand and allowed her to lead him out of his sanctum. "You know, you'll ruin my reputation."
"I'm highly competent at my job, Admiral, but I hardly consider myself capable of such a feat!"
For over an hour they searched, but couldn't find the lights. They had just checked the last storage compartment in the supply room when Gooshie leaned in the doorway.
"Any luck?"
"No." Teri sighed. "We've gone through every cabinet in here. Maybe they got tossed out by mistake."
"What are we gonna do?" the programmer moaned. "I think we've looked in every storage unit in the project, except..." He trailed off warily.
"Where?" Al dusted his hands on his trousers. Gooshie looked like he wanted to hide. "Gooshie!" Al yelled.
"Th-there's a closet in... Dr. Beckett's office," he very reluctantly ventured.
Teri caught her breath as she watched Al for his reaction, certain he would either explode at the hapless programmer or storm off to return to his hiding place. Instead, he stared at Gooshie for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and nodded.
"Okay, Teri and I'll check it out. You go back to the lounge and make sure everything else is organized. Start looking for anything glittery that could be used on the tree if we don't find those damned lights."
"Right," Gooshie replied and disappeared.
"Shall we?" he indicated for Teri to proceed him.
"Al, we don't have to ..."
"Yeah, we do." He didn't quite manage to sound as sure as he'd hoped.
"Okay," Teri nodded and headed for the door. She made it halfway down the corridor before giving in to the urge to check behind her to make sure Al was there. Sure enough, he was, so she continued on down the hall to the door that was the threshold of their destination. She stood aside for Al to key in the code that would allow their entrance to the locked office, and watched as he preceded her into the dark room.
Al's hand reached out and touched the sensor and the room was suddenly flooded with light. He stood just a few feet inside the doorway, Teri waiting patiently behind him, as his eyes played over the familiar furnishings.
Sam's desk was almost unchanged from the way he had left it, full, but always organized. The bookcases behind the desk were filled with volumes of books on all manner of subjects which interested the now absent resident genius, with the majority being high-brow physics treatises and quantum mechanics texts. On the wall beside the desk, where anyone else would have displayed their diplomas (and Sam certainly had enough to paper half the room) were instead photographs. There were the inevitable pictures of Sam's family, including, since the leap to Vietnam, Tom and his family. A couple were pictures from Sam's childhood in Indiana, with the last family photo that had included his father centered among them.
There were also pictures from Sam's remarkable career. His professors and associates from projects past. There were pictures from Starbright and several from the early days of work on Project Quantum Leap. In almost all these last two categories, Al was featured prominently. But the centerpiece to the whole arrangement was an 8 by 10 color portrait of Sam and Al, arms around each other, Sam holding the Nobel prize medal in his hand and Al beaming with pride. It was one of Sam's favorites and it had little to do with the prestigious honor. In fact, you had to look close to notice the medal at all. What struck you immediately was the happiness and the obvious love these two men had for each other.
Al took a deep breath to make up for the fact that he hadn't seemed to have taken one since turning on the light. "Kinda small for the head of a project this big, ain't it?" He laughed. "I never could seem to get him to understand that when you're top dog, you have to flaunt it a little, look the part. All Sam ever wanted to do was the work."
"And that's why he has you to handle everything else," Teri added.
Al huffed. "I hate it as much as he does, but the difference is I know how to put on an act. I can play to the best of them and I can stretch the truth if I have to. The kid's too honest for his own good." He smiled to himself. "Boy scout."
Teri hesitated a moment, then decided to barge ahead. Stepping around Al, she looked around the room then turned to face her boss. "Where's that closet Gooshie was talking about?"
"What?" Al shook himself out of his introspection. "Oh, it's over here." He pointed at the to the right of the bookcases. Teri headed for it and opened the door, pausing to look back at Al.
"Maybe you should," she suggested. "There might be something private in here and I wouldn't want to intrude." A quick look crossed Al's face which, before he could cover it, caught Teri's eye. Without missing a beat, she quickly did an about face. "On the other hand, I could just give it a quick once over so you wouldn't have to bother."
Al chuckled. "About an hour ago you were reading me the riot act about hiding away from my feelings and now your dancing around like you were on eggshells to protect me from them. Make up your mind, woman!"
"All right, Admiral," she stated formally. "At your discretion." She stepped aside and pointed at the open closet. With some trepidation, Al went inside and started pulling down boxes and checking their contents. After a few minutes, he relaxed. It didn't seem Sam kept much of a personal nature in here. Those things were probably in his living quarters on site or in his house, which he rarely had spent any time in, in town.
About halfway down the top shelf on the left he opened a box and was immediately assaulted with a silver tinsel garland that spilled out the open top. "All right!" he exclaimed, smiling at Teri. "I think we're getting close here." He lifted the garland and peaked underneath. "Definitely jingle bells time. Got some ornaments and phoney mistletoe."
"Great!" Teri cheered. "Maybe the lights will be in the next one."
"Right," Al agreed, fishing down the container in question as Teri eased around him and went for the small carton next in line. "Bingo! Let there be twinkle-lights." He held up the mass of knotted wires and bulbs. "We might be able to get these untangled by next Christmas if the engineering staff works double shifts for the next year!" He turned to Teri who seemed to be engrossed with the contents of the box she had retrieved. "What did you come up with there?"
She looked up at him a little hesitantly as she offered him what she held in her hand. He took the bundle of pictures from her and smiled. "Hey, these are from '94! Sam must've stuck them in here along with the decorations." He laughed uproariously. "God, were we wasted at that office Christmas party!"
"Looks like you were all having a great time," Teri remarked, still cautious, but a little more relaxed at Al's reaction.
"Are you kidding? We had completed all the initial work on the project, the tests had been going well and we were ahead of schedule toward completion. The glitches didn't come for a couple of months down the road. At Christmas, we were on top of the world! Sam brought this little instant camera to the party and we were all horsing around like three-year-olds." He flipped through more of the photos, laughing at some, groaning at others, but smiling all the time. "Look!" he shouted, showing the one on top to Teri. "This is where Gooshie and I dowsed Sam with the contents of the punchbowl. I thought he was going to kill us!" He laughed uproariously. "The next week, I went out and bought him a t-shirt that said 'Geniuses are all wet!'"
Teri laughed. "These are priceless." She looked in the carton again. "Look, here's the camera!"
"Great!" Al cried. "Bring it and the rest of the pictures. The staff will get a kick out of these."
Teri looked at her watch. "Yikes! Al, we'd better get this stuff to the lounge or they're going to give up on us."
"Okay," he agreed. "I'll grab these two boxes, you get that one and the shopping bag. I think it has the 'Merry Christmas' streamers in it."
Thus encumbered, they made their way out of the office with only a hesitation as Al fumbled to be able to reach the light sensor, then they headed down the hall.
The tree was large and slightly lopsided. Where someone had come up with a Douglas fur in the middle of the New Mexico desert was anyone's guess, but this crew was known for their ingenuity. It certainly was being called to use. As the medical staff was busy making make-shift ornaments from medical supplies and stringed popcorn to supplement the few unbroken ornaments that were found in the box from Sam's closet, over in a corner, two senior engineers, three renowned quantum physicists and staff psychologist, Dr. Verbena Beeks, worked to untangle strings of lights. Al and several of the female technicians worked at making the perfect Christmas punch (non-alcoholic, of course, since they were all technically on duty) while several of the Marine security officers hung up the streamers and the tinsel. Teri's artistic vein was put to work with black and red magic markers and tacked up computer printout paper that must have been in the back of the storage room for years to draw a large Santa Claus that was for some reason beardless and bore a remarkable resemblance to the project observer. She was just adding a word balloon with "Ho, Ho, Ho" when Dr. Jonathan Adams, grumbled, "We're never going to get all these lights untangled!"
"Now, Doctor, no negativity. Imagine if Einstein had given up on ever coming up with the general theory of relativity. Where would you be now?" Dr. Beeks chastened.
"Spoken like a true shrink!" declared Al.
"Did anyone think to test the lights to see if they work?" wondered one of Al's harem.
A sudden silence fell on the room. "Where's the outlet?" asked an engineer. Dragging their bundle with them, they found an electrical socket and one by one tried out the plugs. There were five sets of lights in the tangled mass. Only two worked.
"Well, the good news is we know which bulbs to work on; the bad news is this isn't going to do much for that size tree," announced Dr. Adams.
At that moment, Gooshie burst in the door of the lounge. "I think I've solved the problem," he announced, holding up a box full of flashing, brightly colored components. "I grabbed everything from supply that blinked or glowed and we can string them on the tree."
"Hey, I've got some earrings in my quarters that we could use!" suggested Susan Morgan, one of the computer tech staff, and suddenly every woman in the room started agreeing and headed for the door. Within minutes, they started arriving back one or two at a time with handfuls (and sometimes jewelry boxfuls) of flashing, glowing, iridescent, and fluorescent earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings, hair ornaments and attachments for clothing and shoes that each made its own multi-colorful fashion statement.
"Thank God for the neon fad!" remarked Dr. Adams, and they all set about attaching the "ornaments" to the tree. By the time they were done, along with the two now untangled strings of working twinkle-lights, the tree was anything but dull.
"Wait a minute," wailed Nurse Barbara Forbes as they were all congratulating themselves on a spectacular tree, "we don't have anything for the top."
"Like a star or an angel," added Susan.
Teri looked over at Al with a sparkle in her eye. "Well, we do have an angel among us."
Al looked at her perplexed for just a moment before he remembered his "Angel Al" routine when Teri was four. "Oh, no, you don't," he protested with his hand held before him in defense. "I don't think I'll fit on the top of that tree!"
"Wait a minute," said Dr. Beeks. "Admiral, don't you have a lapel pin in the shape of a star?"
"Yeah," he answered, "but it's not very big and I'm not exactly sure which suit I left it on." They all grumbled a minute. "Hold it!" Al suddenly cried, snapping his fingers and then reaching in his pocket. "How about this?" He pulled out his handlink to Ziggy and everyone agreed it would make a most appropriate topper for their tree. Lt. Bob Timmons of the security force pulled the ladder up close and steadied it while Al scrambled up and with a piece of wire, secured the handlink to the highest branch. Everyone let out a cheer as he took a bow before climbing back down the ladder and the party went into full swing.
Everyone was having a wonderful time and Al was, as usual for any occasion except Christmas, the life of the party. He kept everyone in stitches telling stories about his exploits at a string of past Christmas and New Year's bashes. After a while, he produced the photos from the Christmas bash of 1994 and everyone was laughing at the antics, especially those staffers who had been there and were represented in what one engineer described as "blackmail shots."
The pictures were passed around, with new howls of laughter every time a new group got a look at them. Gooshie, sitting in a group with Dr. Beeks, Bob Timmons, a couple of the computer techs, Al and Teri, was having trouble breathing between bouts of laughter. Then he came to the last picture in the stack. "Hey, Admiral, this is when we got Dr. Beckett with the punch!"
It was as if someone had dowsed the whole room with cold water. Suddenly, all the laughter died as everyone remembered why they were spending their Christmas at the project. Everyone was quiet until Verbena Beeks spoke.
"I think Dr. Beckett would approve of this celebration."
"You bet he would," agreed Dr. Adams. "And he would have come up with all the decorating ideas a lot faster than we did." Everyone chuckled.
Silence took hold again. This time it was Al who interrupted it. "Listen, guys. I know we're all worried about Sam, but Verbena's right, he would love this party. And he'd be very proud of all of you guys for putting it together, and for sticking around here instead of going home to your families for Christmas. He'd be all sentimental and say all the right things and all the girls would be crying." There was a smattering of laughter. "Well, I'm not the sentimental sort, so I'm not gonna get all mushy on you. Sam's gonna be fine. We're all here to make sure of that. And since he's not here right now to say it to you, I'll say it. Thanks. From Sam." He looked over at Teri, "and from me, too." He winked at her and she smiled back. "Now let's get on with this shindig!"
Bob Timmons stood up. "You know, back home in Tulsa we have a traditional toast on Christmas Eve. We've got a large family and there's a big Marine tradition that goes back a couple of generations. There's never been a Christmas that I can remember that one of us hasn't been off somewhere serving during Christmas. So every Christmas Eve, we all drink a toast to whoever isn't there. I think we should drink a toast to Dr. Beckett. He's off somewhere helping people and can't be with us here tonight, but there isn't a one of us here who isn't thinking about him. How about it?"
They all looked to Al. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Lieutenant." He picked up his glass and nodded back to Timmons.
"Thank you, sir," he replied, raising his glass. "To Dr. Beckett. We know with all the good things you've done for people, God is looking out for you tonight and we hope next year, you'll be here to join us. I, for one, wouldn't mind at all missing another Christmas in Oklahoma to be here for that."
"Here, here," came the resounding cheer as they all lifted their glasses and drank the toast.
"I'd like to propose another toast, if I may," said Susan Morgan. "You know, there are a lot of pretty diverse people here in this room tonight. In fact, we're kind of a Heinz-57 mixture." Everyone laughed. "We have different backgrounds, some of us have different faiths, some of us are technicians, some of us big brained scientists. But I have never felt like my job was unimportant, just because it didn't take a 200 IQ to do it. I'm proud to be a part of this project and tonight, I feel like you're all my family. So I want to drink a toast to this family and," she looked over at Al, "to the Admiral who, I guess you could say, is the father of us all."
"Wait a minute," Al interrupted, "I'm not old enough to be Dr. Levine's father." He pointed at the silver-haired scientist and everyone laughed.
"Our spiritual father, then," Verbena amended.
"To the Admiral," Susan raised the toast.
"To the Admiral," everyone echoed, except for the few who inserted his name instead of the title.
"None of us would be here without you," one of the techs added and there was a murmuring of general agreement. Al blushed red with embarrassment, but withstood the sentiment better than most of those who knew him best expected.
As the party continued, in a more mellow tone, some of the other staffers shared some of the things their families did at Christmas. Everyone found a place to sit near the tree and talked for what seemed like hours. It was warm and genuine; it wasn't the stereotypical office Christmas party.
At almost midnight, with the conversation still going strong, Teri noticed that Al was no longer in the room. Concerned, she slipped out and made her way to his office, fully expecting to find he had retreated there after stomaching as much sentiment as he could handle. But his office was empty and dark. She was puzzled for a moment, then she thought she knew where he might be and she headed a short distance down the hall.
"You should have been there, Sam," Al murmured to the photograph he held in his hands, the centerpiece of Sam's office wall which he had taken down for a closer look. "You should've seen the stuff they hung on the tree! And those pictures from '94 that you had in the closet were a big hit. You would've had a great time."
He gazed silently at the picture for a few moments. "I wish you were here, kid. I'm glad when you leaped into that Christmas in New York a while back I could be there with you. I miss you, Sam. I can hold this place together, but I can't do it as well as you would. You gotta come back and let me go back to being the ogre around here. Being a nice guy is too hard."
"I don't know where you are, but I know you're gonna come home some day. If I didn't believe that, I don't think I could hang on. Come home, Sam, and we'll throw the biggest bash for you that the world has ever seen."
"I know you'd be here if you could, kid, and in a way, you are here. You were as much a part of that party in there as anyone else... more. This project is you. Come home, Sam. We all miss you."
He hung the picture back on the wall, then lifted his glass off the desk. "Merry Christmas, Sam," he toasted and drained the glass. Slowly he turned away and walked to the door. He looked back across the room once before switching off the light and stepping out the door. As he turned into the corridor, he came face to face with Teri, leaning against the opposite wall.
"What're you doing here?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Waiting for you."
"How'd you know where I was?" he quizzed suspiciously.
She smiled. "It wasn't too hard to figure out."
"I just needed to say Merry Christmas to Sam," he explained.
"I know."
He looked at her and shook his head. "What're you doing here, Teri?"
"My job I hope," she replied, with a grin.
"No, I mean, why didn't you go home for Christmas? You've only been with the project a couple of months, and while I like to think of your job as important, it's hardly one of the technically critical ones that would keep you from taking a day or two off. You've got a brother and a sister out there somewhere in the real world. Why'd you stay here?"
She smiled as she thought about the question for a moment. "My brother and sister are both married with children of their own. They've got lives of their own, and to the kids I'm just an aunt they don't see all that often. Don't get me wrong, I love them all. But I'd rather be here. They'll spend Christmas with their families and I'll spend it with mine."
"Teri..."
"No, you asked for it, you have to let me finish," she told him. "My father walked out on us when I was three. You know that. And while he paid obligatory father-type visits a few times, he wasn't a part of our lives. Mom never remarried, so I never got a step-father either. But when I was four years old, I met my angels, Sam and Al. I never forgot either of you. And four years ago, you came back into my life. You've been there for me, Al, and I want to be here for you. I know you feel kind of paternal toward me. Heck, I'm the only female in this project you haven't hit on! And I guess I feel a little daughterly toward you. No matter what, we're friends and I love you, Al."
She slipped her arms around him and he hugged her close. "Thanks, munchkin. I love you, too." He kissed the top of her head. He pushed her back and they looked straight at each other. They both laughed at the tears in each others eyes. "Enough of this," Al said as he sniffed noisily. "Let's get back to the party. I've got an idea."
It was just after 1 a.m. and no one seemed to want to leave the lounge. They had been singing Christmas carols for about half an hour and had just completed a rousing chorus of "Jingle Bells."
"Admiral Calavicci?" came a disembodied, very sexy, female voice.
"What is it, Ziggy?" Al asked. "Afraid you're missing the party?"
"No, Admiral, I haven't missed a thing. I have been monitoring the lounge all evening and I have enjoyed the new data I picked up for my personnel files."
"Then why are you bothering us now?"
"You asked to be informed of any change in Dr. Beckett's status."
Everyone held their breaths. "Are you trying to tell us he's leaped?" Al asked.
"Of course," Ziggy replied.
"Yaahooo!" Al cried, the loudest, but by no means the only cheer to be raised at the news.
"Okay, everybody to stations. Bob, get up there and grab me that handlink. Gooshie, get to work on Ziggy and get me the info to give Sam. Verbena, you check out our new guest in the waiting room, will you?"
"Sure, but you usually do that."
"I'm going straight to the imaging chamber," he replied as Timmons handed him the handlink. "After all, I have something to show Sam," he said as he patted his pocket. "Okay, let's move it, people. This party is over. We've got work to do."
"Spoken like a true tyrant," Teri teased.
"Get used to it, Ms. Bruckner. Remember, you signed on for the duration."
"Yes, Admiral, Sir." She gave him a mock salute. He simply shook his head as he headed out the door.
Sam found himself in familiar territory. He had materialized in a hospital and quickly determined that he was a medical student making rounds along with a number of others, following a short, balding little doctor who spoke with a nasal monotone. He had only been in his new surroundings a few minutes when Al suddenly appeared, standing at the bedside of a voluptuous young woman whom he was eyeing with predatory glee. The doctor, Dr. Smithers, Sam had learned, was describing the patient's symptoms when Al interrupted.
"Uh, Sam, could you sort of pretend you need to go to the head or something?"
Sam wondered if his friend's information was all that urgent. It wouldn't appear to be too serious from the way Al was grinning from ear to ear and seemed to bounce on his feet.
"Is there something wrong, Bingham?" Smithers suddenly inquired. When no one else responded and several of the students looked at him, he assumed he must be Bingham."
He quickly put his hand on his stomach. "Well, sir, it's just that I'm not feeling well at the moment. I wonder if I could be excused for a few minutes."
Smithers took on a huffy tone filled with disgust. "Young man, how can you possibly be sick when we haven't even made it to pathology yet?"
"I'm sorry doctor," Sam apologized.
"Very well, try and catch up with us by the time we reach radiology."
"Yes, sir," he replied and slipped out of the room. In the hall he saw Al standing in front of a door which he promptly walked through. Sam used the more traditional approach of opening the door. He found they were in a small linen closet.
"Okay, what was so urgent? Do you know what I have to do already? Ziggy's usually not so fast."
"Well, she's not that fast this time either. We haven't got any information yet."
"Then why..."
Al held up his hand to forestall the question. "Something I think you'll appreciate. Sam, I got here as soon as you leaped in for purely sentimental reasons. I haven't a clue what time of year it is where you are... yet, but here at the project, it's Christmas Eve."
"Christmas Eve?" Sam echoed softly.
"Yeah," Al continued. "And you just interrupted one helluva Christmas party."
Sam shook his head. "How inconsiderate of me!"
"Yeah, it was," Al told him, keeping up the show and not about to let on that they had all been worried sick about their wayward time traveler.
"So how come you tore yourself away from this orgy?" Sam wanted to know.
"Because the staff sent you a present." He pulled something from his pocket and held it up in front of Sam. It was a photograph of a very large and dazzlingly lighted tree with a large banner to the right of it. On the banner was a sketch of Al as Santa Claus, above the caricature was emblazoned, "MERRY CHRISTMAS, SAM!" in bold letters, and sitting and standing in front of the banner and the tree were a couple of dozen people.
"What?" Sam asked in confusion.
"This is your Christmas card from the Level 9 and 10 crew. They're the ones with enough clearance to know you're hopping around in time."
Sam looked up at Al in amazement. "You mean, these are the people who work on the project? But I thought you weren't supposed to tell me anything about it that I didn't remember."
"I'm not telling you anything. I'm not going to tell you who any of these people are or what they do or anything else about them. All I'm doing is showing you a picture. I wish I could give it to you, but..." He shrugged. "Like me, it ain't exactly solid. But I figured with your photographic memory, if I gave you a good, long look at it, you'd be able to remember the faces pretty well and maybe knowing all these people care about you will make it a little easier to keep doing whatever it is He," he pointed upward, "needs for you to do."
For a moment, Sam felt like all the breath had been driven out of his lungs. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Al, I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, kid. Just memorize those faces."
Sam stared hard at the image, moving from face to face and setting the image in his mind. "Okay," he said reluctantly at last, still not taking his eyes from the picture, "I think I've got it."
Al had watched him gaze in turn at every face like a starving man and he knew his idea had been a good one. "We miss you, Sam, and we want you home, but until you get there, we wanted you to know that you're really not alone. We're all here for you."
Sam felt the sting of tears threatening to overflow. "Thanks, Al."
"You're welcome," Al replied.
"Tell everyone I said thank you and wish them a Merry Christmas for me, will you?"
"Sure, kid."
Finally the tears did fall. "Tell them I've never gotten a nicer Christmas present."
Al nodded. "You'd, ah, better get to your rounds. I'll get back and find out where this is and what you're doing here and I'll be back in a flash, okay?"
"Okay," Sam agreed. "Al?"
"Yeah?" the observer paused before stepping through the imaging chamber door.
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Sam," Al replied. He paused another second before taking a step and keying the door to close.
He turned around to find Teri once again. "Do you plan to make a habit of standing outside of doors waiting for me?" he asked.
"I take it Sam's all right?" She ignored his question.
"Yeah, he's just fine," Al replied with a smile.
"You know what?" Teri grinned. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had."
"Me too, munchkin." Al squeezed her hand. "Me too."