Disclaimer:  Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal.  No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction.

Anniversary

by:  J.A. Moniz

“You’re not going to make me drink alone, are you Sammy,” Al slurred.  He was sitting at one of picnic tables that ringed the basketball court Sam had insisted be included on the project grounds.  He was clutching a nearly empty bottle of scotch.

“I think you’ve had more than enough to drink.”  Sam made a grab for the bottle but, even in his inebriated state, Al managed to keep it from him.

It wasn’t like Al to be drinking so openly.  Hell, since StarBright it wasn’t like Al to be drinking period.  He was running an awful risk of getting himself booted off the project doing it and Sam didn’t understand why he’d take the chance.

When Al went to tip the bottle for another drink from it, Sam successfully managed to wrest it from his grip.

“No fair, Sammy, that’s my bottle.  Get your own,” Al whined as he made an uncoordinated grab for the bottle.  Sam held it up just out his reach.  Frustrated, Al slumped back to the bench crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.  “I wasn’t done yet.”

“Oh, I think you’re done.  I think you’re quite done,” Sam declared looking at how little remained in the bottle.  “The only question is just what you’re done with if I can’t get you back inside without anyone seeing the state you’re in.”

“’M not going back in there and you can’t make me,” Al mulishly declared.  “Now gimme back my bottle.  I still got some in there.”

Sam deliberately up-ended the bottle in front of Al, spilling the remaining contents out on the sandy ground between them.  “Looks like it’s empty now.”  He grabbed Al’s upper arm to pull him from the bench but Al pulled back from him.

“I said I’m not going in there and you can’t make me.  I don’t care who you are.”  The drunk man got up from the bench, staggering as he fought the effects of the alcohol for his balance.  “I’m gonna get in my car and go get another bottle since you wasted that one.”  He staggered a couple of steps away before stopping to look at Sam.  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to be wasteful?”

“Yeah, my parents taught me not to be wasteful.  That’s why I’m not gonna let you go off and drive and kill yourself of someone else.”  Sam grabbed at Al’s arm again stopping his progress to the area where the cars were parked.

This time Al didn’t have as much success shaking off Sam’s hand.  He still protested.  “I said I’m gonna go get another….”

Sam cut him off.  “I know what you said you were going to do.”  He stopped and took a good look at Al and took stock of the situation.  Al could be quite stubborn when he was drunk and boy was he drunk tonight.  “How about a deal,” Sam tried to compromise.  “Instead of you driving off to get a bottle, we’ll get in my Jeep and I’ll drive to my place in Socorro.  There are plenty of bottles there and then you can drink to your heart’s content without anyone here knowing that’s what you’re doing.”

Al looked carefully at the younger man, squinting at him in an effort to discern whether or not Sam was telling the truth.  “Ok,” he finally agreed.  “But no tricks.”

“Who?  Me?” Sam asked all innocence.  “Would I ever play a trick on you?”  When Al started to open his mouth to answer, Sam cut him off again.  “Don’t answer that.”  He led Al back to the bench pushing him to sit down.  “Just sit here and wait for me.  I’ll be out in two seconds.  I just need to grab my car keys.”

“Sure, sure,” Al answered breezily waving Sam off.

Sam nearly set a new groundspeed record running back into the project and down to his quarters to retrieve the keys to his Jeep.  Along the way he bumped into Verbena and quickly explained to her that he and Al would be spending the weekend at his house in Socorro working on some files.  He jogged off quickly before she had a chance to point out that he had no files with him.

He let out a sigh of relief when he got outside and saw Al sitting where he’d left him.  He’d been half afraid that the older man would have driven off anyway.

“Hey, I’m back,” he announced forcing a smile into his voice and on his face.  “You ready for that ride now?”

“What I’m ready for,” Al said getting up and slapping Sam a little too hard across the back, “is a drink.  But I guess I have to wait until after the ride for that.”

Sam righted himself from the step he’d stumbled forward when Al slapped him and led the way to the Jeep.  As they walked, Al started to ramble on about something.  Sam wasn’t sure quite what.  He knew from past experience, though, that when Al was drunk he could get quite vocal.  It was going to be an interesting ride.

It took a little over an hour to get from the project to Sam’s house.  For most of the ride Al expounded on the physical attributes of every woman currently working at PQL.  Sam was astounded that even in his inebriated state Al could not only remember all of their names but exactly what it was about each one that he enjoyed seeing so much.

About 20 minutes from the house Al’s mood changed and he grew silent.  Sam knew that wasn’t always a good sign.  A quiet Al when he was drunk meant one of two things.  Either he was stewing over something and would get angry for seemingly no reason or; he was stewing over something and would get suddenly depressed.  Sam wasn’t sure which he’d rather see right now but he didn’t hear another word from the man beside him until he’d pulled the Jeep into the garage.

“You know what today is?” Al asked out of the blue as he pushed past Sam and into the house.  He didn’t give Sam a chance to answer.  “I’ll tell you what today is.  Twenty-three years ago today, I died…or at least according to Beth I did.”  He rounded on Sam then, getting into the younger man’s personal space and pushing him up against the wall.  “She might as well have just taken a gun to my head when she had them declare me dead and then went and married that nozzle…that shyster…that…that...”  Just as quickly he turned away from Sam walking unsteadily to the kitchen.  “I need a drink,” he mumbled.

Sam followed close behind and watched as Al ransacked his kitchen cabinets looking for anything he could drink and forget about Beth.  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”  Sam suggested lightly.

Al rummaged through the last cabinet and slammed it shut.  “You said you had stuff here to drink.  You said no tricks.  There’s nothing here.  You lied to me.”

“No, Al,” Sam replied calmly.  “I didn’t lie to you.  What I said is that I have plenty of bottles and I do.”  He pulled upon the door of the refrigerator pointing out the bottles of water he kept in there.  “See, plenty of bottles.  Just help yourself.”

Al ripped the door from Sam’s hand slamming it shut before grabbing him and pinning him up against the closed refrigerator.  He brought his face to within inches of Sam’s so he’d have no trouble seeing just how angry Al was.  “That’s not what I meant and you damn well knew it.  I told you no tricks.”  He shook Sam slightly so that his head barely bounced off the appliance behind him.

Putting up both hands, Sam easily broke the hold Al had on him and pushed past him.  Kneeling down on the floor he pulled open a cabinet and rummaged through the back of it looking for something.  Finding what he wanted, he stood up and slammed the bottle in his hand down on the kitchen island.  “You want to drink yourself to death, here, be my guest.”

Al snatched the half-empty bottle of brandy from where Sam had put it down.  Not taking his eyes off of Sam, he defiantly opened the bottle and took a long pull off it, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth when he was done.

“You disgust me,” Sam softly snarled before hurrying out of the room.

Al watched him leave and took another pull from the bottle.  Typical he thought that’s what they all do in the end.  Turn their back and walk away.  He’d always thought Sam was different.  The kid had put his own career on the line in the past for Al.  Al never thought he’d see Sam walk away from him like this.  “He’s not gonna walk away,” he mumbled before slamming the bottle down and going in search of Sam.

He found him in the living room.  Sam was standing between one of the couches and the coffee table just staring at the unlit fireplace.  Al grabbed his arm and spun him around.  “You’re not gonna walk away from.”

Almost without thinking, Sam shook the hold off his arm.  In his inebriated state, Al wasn’t ready for the quickness of Sam’s action and stumbled on the leg of the coffee table and fell between it and the couch.  Lying on the floor, he looked up at Sam who seemed to loom over him and Al couldn’t remember ever seeing that look of disappointment and anger aimed his way before.

“I’m sorry, Sam.  I’m so sorry,” he started babbling without bothering to get up.  “I lose everything and everyone.  I don’t want to lose you too, Kid, I just don’t.”

Sam’s face softened and he bent down to help Al up from the floor and over to the couch.  The drunken man collapsed bonelessly down onto the leather surface as the alcohol he’d drunk over the last several hours quickly caught up to him.  He grabbed a hold of Sam’s wrist jerking the younger man down over him.  “She left me, Sam.  She told them I should be dead and she left me…just like they all did.  My mother, my father, Trudy…all of them just left me.  Then Beth did, too.  I got no family, Kid.  I’m all alone and I ain’t got no family.”

“You’re not alone, Al,” Sam sighed.  “You’ve got me.”

Al breathed out noisily and patted Sam affectionately on the cheek.  “You’re all I got, Sammy.  You’re the son I never had…or maybe it’s the brother I never had.”  His brows knotted together as he tried to puzzle out exactly what he meant.  “You’re my family,” he finally settled on, “and I shouldn’t hurt my family.”  The soporific effect of the alcohol was fast starting to make its presence known though Al was valiantly trying to fight it off.

“Go to sleep, Al,” Sam advised as he pushed himself up straight.  “You’ll feel like hell in the morning and then we can figure out what’s going on.”

Al blinked his eyes quickly trying to fight off sleep but soon the alcohol induced slumber won out.  He didn’t feel Sam spread the blanket kept on the back of the couch over him and he didn’t hear the physicist’s softly spoken words.  “Sleep tight, Papa Bear.”

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