Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are
owned by Bellasarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of
the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction.
The Vacation
by: J.A. Moniz
Just because something seems like a good
idea at the time doesn’t mean it is a good idea, or so Admiral Al Calavicci was
finding out. Somehow he’d been talked into accompanying Dr. Beckett to Cambridge
where he was a guest lecturer for his old professor, Dr. LoNigro. Sam had told
him it would be fun but Al really had the sneaking suspicion that Sam just
wanted to keep an eye on him.
It had only been a couple of months since Sam had come upon him beating a
vending machine with a hammer. That had been a day of days. His fourth wife
wanted to take him back to court for more alimony; he’d been informed that he
wasn’t living up to what the committee wanted for Starbright and they’d have no
choice but to him go; and then the damned machine had eaten his dime. In his
drunken mind he’d had every right to beat the thing senseless.
Trouble was, one Dr. Samuel Beckett had wandered by while the beating was in
progress. Young, naïve, wide-eyed and innocent he’d taken it upon himself to not
only save the hapless vending machine but also to save the hurting soul who was
beating on it. He’d nearly had his own head caved in in the process by a wild
swing of the hammer.
Once Sam had wrestled the hammer away from Al, Al had collapsed into a heap on
the floor spilling out the whole story. He had no idea why he chose to tell it
to Sam. He barely knew the kid – had only seen him one other time at the project
when he’d done a quick “welcome to the party” interview with him but here he was
listening as Al blurted out the whole thing.
He’d pulled Al up off the floor when he was done, took him to the cafeteria and
poured cup after cup of black coffee down his throat until he’d sobered up. That
was just the start. He spoke to the committee on Al’s behalf and his impassioned
plea had earned the Admiral a reprieve. He’d spent the last couple of months a
fixture by Al’s side making sure that he stayed away from the bottled and turned
his life around.
Al owed a lot to Sam so when the kid had asked him to come out to Cambridge
while he did this guest lecturing bit he didn’t have the heart to say no to him
– even if he did know Sam just wanted to keep him close by and away from the
bottle.
Besides, he’d reasoned, Sam was going to need someone to make sure he survived
this lecture gig. He’d been getting little to no sleep back at Starbright
between doing his work and preparing the lecture. Al had been convinced that at
any minute on the plane he was going to jump out of his skin, he was so nervous.
Sam’s stress had just increased when they’d arrived in Cambridge and Al had a
pretty good feeling that, no matter how good he was, getting up and talking in
front of a group of people was not top on his list of fun things to do.
The lecture series was over now, though, and it was time for the kid to unwind.
Kid? Al had taken to calling him that when he’d almost caved in his skull with
the hammer. Sam Beckett, after all, was a kid even if he didn’t like to be
called it. It had become a ritual of sorts. Al would call him “kid” and Sam
would immediately fire back, “I’m not a kid so stop calling me that.” The only
time Al had managed to break the ritual was when he’d informed Sam that with a
19 year age difference between them, not only was Sam a kid but Al was old
enough to be his father. His mouth had closed so fast Al had been afraid he’d
bitten off his tongue.
TO BE
CONTINUED
