


Mysterious Actions

by QLTales



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Angst, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-17
Updated: 2009-04-28
Packaged: 2013-08-18 11:04:53
Rating: T
Chapters: 27
Words: 89,003
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5001314/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1152557/QLTales
Summary: Sam’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. A crossover with the TV show “Diagnosis Murder”.





	1. Chapter 1

**Mysterious Actions**

By: QL Tales

_Disclaimer: _Quantum Leap _and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. _Diagnosis Murder_ and all related characters are owned by Viacom Productions. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction. _

_Author's Note: The first 14 ½ chapters were originally upload under Dulcinea1969's pen name. Since then, the story has been edited and finished by both Dulcinea1969 and Asearcher so it is now being posted under the penname QL Tales._

**Chapter 1**

Al couldn't believe his luck that he'd actually been able to talk Sam into spending the day at the beach. They'd been in LA for the past three days scouting out a possible scientist that Sam wanted to add to the project team and he was beginning to believe the only thing they'd do was sit in a hotel room or an office in meetings trying to woo Rob Motts, preeminent scientist in the field of artificial intelligence, away from current position and out to the desert of New Mexico.

When Al had innocently suggested a drive up Pacific Coast Highway, he'd had to do a double take when Sam readily agreed. He was certain his friend would refuse insisting that they prepare for their next meeting with Motts.

"I think I'm gonna pull in here and fill up," Al said as they drove near a gas station. "No sense in letting the tank get too low."

While he stopped at the first free pump and got out to fill the car, Sam popped his seatbelt and pushed the door open. "I'm gonna run in and grab a soda," he told Al gesturing to the mini-mart that was a part of the gas station. "You want anything?"

Al shook his head 'no' and waved his friend on into the store. He was alarmed when a few minutes after Sam went through the door; a young man came out, looked around wildly and ran off as if the devil were after him. Before the man had run, Al had been able to catch a brief glimpse of something in his hand…something that looked like it was covered in blood. He sprinted for the mini mart and pushed open the door. The sight that greeted him took his breath away.

A teenaged girl was behind the counter screaming hysterically but that wasn't what immediately caught Al's attention. It was the sight of his best friend crumpled on the floor in front of the counter grasping his abdomen and the growing puddle of blood under him that Al immediately zeroed in on.

"Sam, what the hell," he screamed out before running to the downed man and dropping to his knees beside him. "What happened?" he asked uselessly.

The only response he got from Sam was a groan. "God, Al, hurts so bad."

Reaching into his pocket, Al grabbed the handkerchief he had there. Moving Sam's hands from where they were clasped over the wound in his abdomen, he pressed the handkerchief down firmly to try to staunch the flow of blood. Sam weakly batted at his hands trying to push them away.

Al caught the eyes of the girl as she crept around the counter. "Call an ambulance," he shouted at her. When she continued to stare dumbly at him, he yelled at her again. His second shout seemed to penetrate the fog she was in and she reached for the phone on the counter and began to dial.

Sam kept trying to push Al's hands away although he had nearly no strength and could do no more than tap at the hands causing the pain he was in to escalate. He'd stopped talking to Al and telling him how much it was hurting and instead soft moans of pain issued from his mouth. "I'm so sorry, Sam," Al told him sincerely. "I know it's hurting but we've got to stop the bleeding."

Weakly, Sam nodded his agreement with Al's assessment but still tried to push his hands away. As Al looked down at him, Sam's eyes began to flutter and it appeared that he was going to lose consciousness. "No, Sam! Don't close your eyes," Al ordered him frantically. "You keep your eyes open and look at me. You hear?"

"Trying," Sam gasped out as he forced his eyes to open wide. "Hurts."

"I know, Buddy. I know. Help's coming, though. You just need to hang on." Al looked around wildly until he caught sight of the girl again. "Are they coming?" he demanded.

"They said they'd be here soon," she whispered. "Is he….is he gonna die?"

"No!" Al screamed out. "He is not going to die. Don't even say that." He looked down to Sam's pale, waxen face. "You hear me," he said low and urgently, "you are not going to die. You're gonna be just fine."

Sam blinked a few times and tried to swallow. "Don't wanna die, Al," he whispered. "Don't leave me. Please."

"I won't, Sammy." Al spared one hand from the pressure he was keeping on the bleeding wound to wipe the sweat-soaked hair back from Sam's forehead. "I'm not gonna leave you. I just need you to hang on for me. Can you do that, Sammy? Can you hang on?" There was a certain pleading in his voice but he didn't care.

"'M tryin'" Sam gasped out though his voice was weaker than it had been just a few minutes ago.

"That's good, Kiddo, that's good. You just keep trying." Al tilted his head as he thought he heard a siren getting closer. "They're almost here, Sam. Just a little while and the ambulance will be here and they'll take care of you. You just keep hangin' on."

"Don't leave me," Sam again begged. The two fell into silence for a few minutes that was only broken by the siren that was getting nearer, the pained gasps from Sam, and the soft sobs from the frightened girl. "'M cold, Al," Sam whispered a minute later. "'M so cold."

"Damn it," Al mumbled under his breath. If the kid was getting cold he must be going into shock. It shouldn't be surprising, he realized, when he saw how the blood had soaked through the handkerchief and the size of the puddle under Sam. "I need something to cover him with," he said louder turning to the girl. "A blanket or coat or something."

She looked at him helplessly before getting up from where she was huddled and running into what looked like a backroom. Al could only hope she was getting something to cover Sam up with and not just running away. A few seconds later she ran back with what looked like a tarp and spread it over the injured man. "There's so much blood," she whispered.

Afraid that anything she said would just frighten Sam and upset him, Al felt it best to set another task for her. "I want you to go outside and wait for the ambulance and you make sure you bring them back here right away." When she didn't move immediately, he prompted her, "Go on," he said loudly, though not unkindly. It was enough to motivate her and she went running for the door.

"Just a little longer, Sam, just a little longer," Al murmured though he wasn't sure the injured was really listening or paying attention to his words anymore. Even if Sam wasn't able to concentrate on his words, he wanted to at least make sure his tone of voice conveyed comfort and kept him quite and calm. When he looked down he noticed a little more bleeding leaking through and rocked forward putting more pressure on the wound. "Sorry, so sorry," he mumbled when Sam groaned at the additional pain the pressure caused. He cocked his head slightly as the sound of distant sires got closer. "There almost here, Sammy. Just keep hangin' on."

All of a sudden it seemed like everything burst into action around Al as the EMT's came through the door. They didn't immediately push him out of the way when they saw that he was holding pressure on the bleeding wound. They quickly started an IV in Sam's arm to replace the fluid he was loosing. The small, additional pain of the needle going into his arm roused Sam enough to once again moan in pain. Al was grateful for the care that the EMT's were giving and that they kept apprising Sam, and him, of everything they were doing.

"Sam," the younger of the two called out, "I'm going to put some oxygen on you now. It might tickle your nose a little but it's going to help you breathe."

Sam didn't acknowledge as the O2 canula was put in his nose and wrapped around his head but he didn't fight it either. Soon they had him hooked up to an EKG and ready to transport him to the hospital. As they lifted him from the floor to the gurney he waved his arm wildly. "Al," he called out. "Don't leave me. You said you wouldn't leave me."

"I'm right here, Sam," Al reassured taking hold of Sam's searching hand once he'd been lowered to the gurney. "I'm right here," he said again as he once more reached up to brush the younger man's hair back. "Can I ride with him?" he asked looking up to the EMT's.

"You can come in the ambulance, Sir," the younger answered, "but you'll have to ride up front with me."

"That's ok," Al agreed nodding his head before again giving Sam his attention. "I have to sit in the front of the ambulance, Kid, but I'm gonna come with you. I'm not going to leave you alone, ok?"

Sam stared up at Al and the older man could see the struggle for him to get his eyes to focus. "Ok, Al." He blinked a couple of times and swallowed hard. "I'm afraid," he confessed. "I don't wanna die."

At Sam's words, Al squeezed his hand even tighter. "Don't even think about that, Sammy. You're not going to die, you hear me? I just want you to keep thinking positive."

"I'll try," Sam forced out in whisper before his eyes fluttered shut and he lost his hold on consciousness.

When he saw Sam loose consciousness Al looked up to the EMT who was checking his vitals. "He's just lost consciousness," the man reassured. "He's lost a lot of blood but once we get him to the hospital they'll be able to take care of that."

"What hospital?" Al asked numbly though he knew it wouldn't make a difference. He wasn't at all familiar with the hospitals in the Los Angeles area. The only time he'd been in one was when he and Sam were traveling to Hawaii after Sam had been hit by the car in Washington, DC. They'd gone to UCLA Medical Center then when Sam developed a respiratory infection but Al didn't think they were anywhere in that area now.

"We're taking him to Community General," the EMT answered as they began to wheel Sam out to the waiting ambulance. "It's got a very good reputation, Sir, and he'll be well taken care of."

Before Al realized it, they had loaded the gurney with Sam on it in the back of the ambulance and he was sitting up front with the driver as the vehicle flew through the city traffic with lights and sirens running. Although he hadn't had a very good relationship with God in a long time, he couldn't stop himself from throwing up a quick prayer that his friend would survive this. "Too much," Al mumbled to himself. "Too many times he's been hurt bad like this. He doesn't deserve it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In the back of the ambulance, Sam was fading in and out of consciousness. Even when he was awake, he wasn't very aware of what was going on around him. "Wha's that noise," he asked the man he could see leaning over him.

"What noise?" the man asked distractedly as he put more gauze pads in place and made sure they were held down with pressure to control the bleeding that continued unabated.

"That noise," Sam said as his eyes tracked back and forth over the ceiling of the ambulance. "What's that screaming kind of noise?"

"It's the siren," the man patiently explained as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Sam's upper arm.

"That because of me?" Sam mumbled the question, again starting to drift off.

"Uh huh," the man answered. He was partially distracted as he pumped up the cuff and took another reading.

"No, no," Sam said anxiously shaking his head back and forth. "Don't want it. Turn it off."

The man put a gentle hand on Sam's face to stop the back and forth shaking. "Sam, Sam," he called out to get Sam's attention. "I need to you try to calm down. We need the siren so the cars can get out of the way." He paused a second to see if his words had any affect. When Sam settled down and squinted in his direction, he continued, "Do you know where you are?"

"'M in an ambulance," Sam answered though his words slurred slightly as he fought to hold onto consciousness again. "There was a knife," he gasped and tried to arch his back as a sharp pain lanced through him. "Hurts," he moaned.

The man put a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep him still. "I know it hurts, Sam. We'll be at the hospital soon and they'll give you something to make it feel better."

"Where's Al?" Sam asked looking all around him. "He said he wouldn't leave."

"No, Sir, he didn't," the man assured him. "He's up front with my partner. He'll be there when we get to the hospital. Just a few more minutes."

"'M cold," Sam stated. "'M so cold." He squinted his eyes as his mind worked. "Too much blood," he gasped out. "There's too much blood. I'm in shock."

"It's going to be ok, Sam," the man tried to reassure as he pulled the blanket that was over Sam higher up around his shoulders. "Just try to lie still and we'll be there soon."

Sam gradually lost awareness of what was happening around him as consciousness started to fade in and out again. Though he never lost it completely, his level of alertness was severely limited. Before he realized what was happening, the ambulance had stopped, the doors were pulled open and the gurney he was on was pulled from the back.

"Where's Al?" he called out weakly when he felt himself moving. Weakly he reached out looking for his friend.

"Right here, Sammy," Al assured him grabbing hold of his hand. "We're at the hospital, Kid. Just a little longer and it's all going to be all right."

He felt Al keep a hold of his hand as he was moved through the doors into the hospital. When they neared the doors to the ER, Al let go of him. "No," he cried out weakly.

"It's ok, Sam," Al called out encouragingly. "I can't go in there, Sammy, but I'll be right here."

Sam was whisked through the doors of the ER and felt himself transferred from the gurney to the exam table in the room. Things started to speed up around him too quickly for him to keep track of. He felt the clothes pulled from his body and was vaguely aware of the wires leading to the EKG pads on his chest being switched from the ambulance's portable unit to one in the emergency room. He felt a pulse-oximeter clipped to his finger and the stick of a needle in his arm. He guessed that they were either taking blood from him (not that he thought there was any to spare) or starting another IV…or maybe both since he felt multiple sticks. He knew he should know what they were doing and that the orders being given by the doctor should make some kind of sense to him but it was so hard to concentrate. The only thing that seemed to penetrate the fog he was in was the order to type and cross-match his blood and he knew that would mean he'd be given a transfusion. Eventually he felt himself fading out and slipped into unconsciousness yet again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The passage of time was vague to Al as he sat in the waiting room taking care of the standard activities that such a visit entailed. He'd been asked to fill out the obligatory admission forms. As he started in on them, he realized he'd been called on to do it a few too many times. Almost by rote he began to fill out Sam's personal information and idly wondered, if the situation were reversed, how much Sam would be able to fill out without really having to think.

Once he'd finished with the forms and returned them to the nurse at the desk, he tried to sit patiently and wait for word on his friend. That didn't last long before he was up and pacing the room. The only thing that stopped him and forced him to try to sit still in the chair was the dirty look the only other person in the waiting room had given him when he'd made his sixth or seventh circuit of the space.

He knew he should call Thelma and Katie and let them know what happened and briefly flashed on a feeling of déjà vu. It was just over a year ago that he'd sat in a hospital waiting room in Washington, DC after Sam had been hit by the car. He'd had the same thought then, that he should make the phone call. As he had that time, he again decided that it was probably best to wait until he had something concrete he could tell them. Hell, he wasn't even a hundred percent sure this time of what had happened. Based on what he'd seen, he suspected that Sam had walked in on a robbery in progress and gotten stabbed during it but it was all conjecture. He wasn't sure if the girl at the mini-mart had calmed enough to tell the police what had happened. He'd been concentrating so much on Sam when they'd arrived that he didn't know. Sam had certainly been in no condition to shed any light on the subject.

He was just about to get up and start pacing again when a doctor came into the room. Silver-haired and kindly looking, he looked more like someone's grandfather than a doctor in a busy emergency room.

"Is there someone here with Sam Beckett?" the man asked.

"That's me. I mean, I am," Al answered jumping up from his chair and approaching the man. "I'm here with Sam. How is he? Is he ok? Can I see him?"

The doctor held up a hand to slow down the torrent of words coming from Al. "Woah, slow down a little Mr…."

"Uh, Al. Name's Al Calavicci."

"Well, Mr. Calavicci," the doctor began.

"It's Admiral," Al quickly pointed out even though he knew that it didn't make much difference. It just seemed to come automatically. When the doctor raised an eyebrow in question, he quirked a half smile. "I'm an Admiral in the navy."

"Oh," the doctor said acknowledging and filing away the information. "Well, Admiral, my name's Dr. Mark Sloan and I've been treating Sam. He's a very lucky. We did do an emergency laparotomy since his peritoneum was nicked but there's not damage to his internal organs. I haven't had a chance to completely review his past medical history. Do you mind telling me when his spleen was removed?"

"Uh, last March," Al answered distractedly. "He was hit by a car. They said they had to remove it to control the bleeding."

"That sounds about right," Dr. Sloan agreed. "Based on the angle of the wound, if he still had his spleen in place the knife would have entered it and the bleeding would have been much heavier." A slight smile crossed Mark's face. "I guess it was a lucky thing for him."

"Yeah," Al agreed though he wasn't thoroughly convinced. "Can I see him?" he asked again anxious to see Sam and see that he really was going to be all right.

"They're just moving him up to his room now," Mark answered. "I can take you up to see him now."

"Thanks," Al said as he began to move in the direction of the elevators eager to get moving.

On their way to the room, Dr. Sloan continued to explain Sam's condition to Al. The main obstacle they were going to have to overcome was the blood loss and being very careful of infection. Since he didn't have his spleen, it was that much harder for Sam to fight off infection. All in all, Al was informed, the knife wound could have been much worse. It was just sheer luck that it hadn't angled up high enough to pierce Sam's lung and that it hadn't nicked his small intestine. Al breathed a small sigh of relief and sent up a silent word of thanks when he realized just how much worse this whole thing could have been for his buddy. He wondered how Sam would take that news.

When they got to the room, a nurse was just finishing settling the injured man into bed. As they walked in they saw her check the id bracelet that had been put on Sam's left wrist and compare it to the tag on the bag of blood in her hand. When the information on both checked, she hung the bag from the IV pole by the bed and began the drip. "He's resting comfortably," she told Al and Mark as she walked by them and out the door.

Slowly, Al approached bed with the doctor right behind him. Sam was sleeping, or at least that's what it looked like to Al. His face was still a pale, snowy white and nearly the same color as the pillow case he lay on. Dark smudges showed beneath his eyes. Mark slipped around Al and stood at the side of the bed. "Sam, can you wake up for me?" he asked as he rubbed his knuckles gently up and down Sam's chest. "Sam?" he asked again when there was no immediate response.

Hearing his name called a second time, Sam blinked him eyes open and groaned softly.

Dr. Sloan flashed a quick smile when he saw his patient's eyes blink open. "Are you in much pain?" he asked.

Sam slowly blinked his eyes at the question but didn't immediately volunteer an answer.

"Sam," Mark prompted again, using the man's name to get him to focus on what he was saying. "If you had to judge your pain level right now on a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst, how bad would you say it is?"

Again Sam blinked his eyes slowly before attempting to answer. "About a seven," he whispered before pausing to lick his lips. His voice was hoarse and weak.

"I'll have the nurse bring in some pain meds," Mark told him. He gestured for Al to come closer to the side of the bed. "You have a visitor right now."

Once more Sam's eyes slowly blinked as he focused on Al. "You didn't leave," he softly said once he was sure who stood by his side.

Al reached down and picked up Sam's hand, noticing how chilled his skin felt. "Told you I wouldn't, didn't I, Kid?" He waited for Sam to answer and was rewarded with a very small nod. "How you feelin'?"

Sam started to answer but only a croak came out. He paused and licked his lips again before trying to answer once more. "Thirsty," was the softly voiced answer.

Al looked over to Dr. Sloan unsure if Sam could drink any water.

"He can have some ice chips," Mark told him as he handed him the cup that was on the bedside table. "Just a small amount at first."

Al accepted the cup from the doctor and spooned a small amount into Sam's mouth. "You know the drill," he told him trying to force a small smile as Sam opened his mouth enough to permit the spoon's entrance. "We've been through this way too many times."

A small smile graced Sam's face at Al's words. "Wrong place at the wrong time," he said softly before opening his mouth for more of the ice.

"Yeah, and like I said, it's been the wrong place at the wrong time too many times, Kid," Al said softly. He held the spoon filled with ice chips up for Sam to see. "Want some more?" he asked louder.

"MMM….no," Sam said on a sigh. "Had enough."

Mark clapped Al softly on the shoulder once Sam had answered. "I'll leave you two to your visit." He directed his attention to the man in the bed. "Just remember, if you need anything, Sam, you just ring." He turned his attention back to Al. "Try not to tire him out too much. Rest is going to be one of the best things right now."

Al nodded to acknowledge the man's words but his attention was firmly locked on the man in the bed. He was only vaguely aware of the doctor leaving the room. He stood looking down at Sam for a few minutes. The younger man's eyes had drifted shut of their own accord but Al didn't think he'd gone to sleep. He reached down brushing Sam's hair back as he'd done while waiting for the ambulance. "You gotta stop scaring me like this, Kido. I'm getting too old for it."

Sam cracked his eyes open at Al's words and squinted up at him. "Not gettin' old," he contradicted. "I don't think you can ever get old."

"I'm glad you think so," Al said with a chuckle. He looked behind where he was standing and saw a chair against the wall and pulled it over to the side of the bed. "You keep this up and I'm never going to have a chance to get old. You're gonna give me a heart attack long before that happens."

Before either could say anything else, a nurse came into the room. "Dr. Sloan said you were feeling some pain," she told Sam. "I've got something to make you feel better." She injected the contents of the syringe she'd brought in with her into one of the ports on Sam's IV. "That ought to make you feel better soon," she told him.

"Thanks," Sam breathed out before she left the room. He waited until the nurse left before continuing the conversation with Al. "You're not getting' old," he repeated before holding his hand out. "You can't have a heart attack," he said once Al had taken his hand. "I need you too much. 'Sides, it's my thing to be in the hospital, not yours."

Al chuckled slightly at Sam's words. "I wish you'd find a different 'thing' then."

Sam returned the chuckle. "I'll try."

Before either said anything else, Sam tried to arch up from the bed in obvious discomfort and grimaced.

"Still in pain?" Al asked. He thought that by now the pain shot would have already started to take effect.

"My back's hurting," Sam said and again tried to arch up.

Al rubbed Sam's shoulder lightly. "Well, try to stay still and give that shot time to work." He wasn't sure why Sam was complaining of pain in his back. Dr. Sloan hadn't mentioned any type of back injury but he assumed maybe it was just from lying in the hospital bed.

"I'm getting so cold," Sam complained. As he said it, Al could see a shiver run through his body.

"Well, let's take care of that then." Al started to pull the blanket up over Sam and tuck it in around his shoulders. When he did the back of his hand brushed against Sam's face and, to him, it felt warm. "You feel like you're starting to run a fever. You're even starting to get a little flushed."

At Al's words, Sam swallowed hard. "I don't feel so good, Al. The IV's burning." He paused for a moment and his eyes widened. "Oh God, Al, it's the blood. It must not be right."

"What?" Al asked in surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The blood, it's got to be wrong or something, that's why I feel so bad all of a sudden." Again Sam arched up in the bed moving around restlessly.

"Hang on, Sam," Al yelled out before running to the door. Pushing through it, he spied a doctor a short way up the hallway.

"Hey," he called out, "I need help here."

Hearing the call for help, the doctor immediately came over to Al. "What's wrong," he asked.

Al looked at the man and blinked taking a second before answering. The doctor looked more like he should still be in school than practicing medicine but he quickly recovered informing the doctor of the problem. "My friend, he said there's something wrong with the blood transfusion. He was feeling sick and complaining of a backache."

Al didn't finish getting the words out before the doctor pushed around him and through the door, Al close at his heels. As they came in the room they could see Sam trying to pull the IV from his arm.

"It's not right," Sam said when he saw the doctor at his bedside.

Immediately recognizing the symptoms Sam was displaying, the doctor quickly pulled the IV from his arm. As he did a nurse came into the room having overheard the exchange between Al and the doctor. "Get me a bag of saline, stat," the doctor called out as soon as he saw her. At the same time he reached for the blood pressure cuff in the basket behind the bed and wrapped it around Sam's upper arm.

Al, who had stood frozen by the door for just a few seconds after they'd come in approached the bed and lay his hand over Sam's arm. "Hang on, Kid," he murmured as he watched the doctor check Sam's vitals and watch the EKG behind the bed.

"What's his name?" the doctor asked glancing quickly in Al's direction.

"Huh?" Al asked not expecting the question.

"Name. What's his name?" the doctor again prompted.

"Oh. It's Sam," Al answered. "His name's Sam."

The doctor gave Al a short nod to acknowledge the information before turning his attention to Sam. "Sam," he asked slowly and clearly, "can you tell me if you're having any trouble breathing."

Sam looked up at the doctor for a brief moment. "Blood's wrong," he again stated.

"I know that," the doctor agreed. "Are you having trouble breathing?"

Sam shook his head 'no'. "My chest feels a little tight."

As soon as he heard Sam's answer, the doctor pulled the oxygen mask from the wall behind the bed and slipped it over Sam's face before adjusting the flow. "That should help but if you start to have anymore trouble breathing, I want you to tell me right away," the doctor said. "Is he allergic to anything?" he asked again giving his attention to Al.

"Uh…strawberries," Al answered in a dazed voice. "His mother said something about being allergic to strawberries."

"Makes me sick," Sam said from the bed, his voice muffled by the mask. "I'm getting so cold," he again reiterated.

"I know, Sam," the doctor agreed. "I just need you to hang on right now." The nurse walked in at that moment with the bag of saline. "Get that started in the same site," he told her. Once she had, he ordered her to get Sam started on a drug called forosemide.

"What's that for?" Al asked once the woman had left.

"It's to increase his renal blood flow," the doctor answered. He grabbed the bag of blood and, as the nurse had earlier, compared the tag on it to the information on the hospital bracelet that Sam was wearing.

"Renal?" Al asked. "This can affect his kidneys?"

"Yeah, it can," the doctor answered distracted. "I want this sent to the lab and double checked," he told the nurse after she'd administered the drug. "The label checks out so they must have labeled it wrong. I also want a repeat type, cross match, antibody screen and direct and indirect Coombs test."

Al waited until the nurse had left to carry out the doctor's orders. "How bad can it be for his kidneys?" Al asked.

"We need to make sure we maintain urinary output," the doctor informed him.

"They had to remove a part of his left kidney a couple of years ago," Al informed him in a slight daze. "There was a plane crash," he continued needlessly.

"Damn," the doctor muttered. "That ought to make this a little more interesting."

Al heard the door behind him open and turned as Dr. Sloan walked into the room. "Jesse, what's going on? I just got the page." Mark said as he walked in the room followed by a nurse. He approached the bed and stopped to watch the readout on the EKG that Sam was hooked up to.

"There must have been some mix-up in the lab. He's having a reaction to the blood transfusion," Jesse told Mark. "There's a chance it could be allergic but I wouldn't rule out a hemolytic reaction. I've got him started on forosemide and I'm having the type and cross match redone."

"That's good." Mark picked up the chart hanging at the foot of the bed and quickly scanned the vitals that had been recorded there. He turned to the nurse who'd just walked in and caught sight of Al still standing on the far side of the room near the door. "Admiral, why don't you wait outside until we get things settled in here." When he saw Al's hesitation and uncertainty he walked over to him gently pushing him to the door. "Give us some room in here to work. He's going to be ok, Admiral. I'll be right out."

"Yeah, ok," Al said softly as he started to the door. "I'll be right back," he called out to Sam.

As the door snicked shut behind him, he leaned on the wall across the hall. It seemed that once again, Sam's 'thing' had just taken a turn for the worse. "How can this be happening?" he asked quietly. What had started out as a nice day at the beach had quickly morphed into something more. He took a breath and let it out. It looked like it was going to be another ride on the roller coaster.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Al stayed in place leaning on the wall outside of Sam's room lost in his own thoughts. He didn't even seem to notice the parade of hospital personnel going in and out of Sam's room. When he heard the door open and the two doctors walk out, he straightened up. He couldn't have guessed how long he'd been standing there. "How is he?" he asked taking the few steps necessary to be over by the doctors. "Is he going to be ok?"

"He's stabilized," Dr. Sloan told him. "We'll have to watch him very carefully and make sure there are no other symptoms. The most important thing is to monitor his kidneys and make sure his urinary output stays where we need it to be but I honestly don't foresee his symptoms getting worse."

The door to Sam's room opened again as the nurse stepped out and the three men briefly glanced in her direction as she caught their attention. "He's resting," she informed them before walking away.

The other doctor, Jesse, excused himself as well leaving the two other men to talk.

"So he's gonna be ok, then, huh?" Al asked when they were alone.

"Given time, he should make a complete recovery," Mark assured. "We're just going to have to give him that time and keep a close watch on him. Right now he's still quite uncomfortable and running a fever. We're treating his symptoms and trying to make him as comfortable as possible." Mark looked carefully at Al and quirked a half smile. "I'd tell you to get out of here and get some rest but I've got a feeling you probably wouldn't listen to me."

Al shook his head slightly. "No way, Doc. I told him I'd be back in there and I'm going to be." He paused for a moment remembering past hospital trips with Sam. "Besides, if he keeps true to form, he's not going to have a good night. If it's ok with you, I'd rather be here to make sure he doesn't get too upset." He looked down to the floor and winced at a memory. "Last thing he needs is to end up in restraints again."

"Restraints?" he asked. "I take it Sam's had more than a few visits to the hospital and they haven't gone well." Mark said with sympathy.

"You could say that. If it weren't for bad luck, sometimes I don't that kid would have any luck."

"Hmm…I was starting to think that myself." The doctor's words generated a look of surprise from Al and he hastened to explain himself. "His medical records were faxed over a short while ago. I was just starting to read through them when the page came. Seems he's had more than his fair share of medical emergencies."

"That's an understatement, Doc." Al heaved a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "Thanks for taking good care of him. I should get back in there or he's gonna think I skipped out."

Mark nodded his head and stepped out of Al's way so he could go in the room. "It's important that he gets rest," he reminded Al. "It's important for you too but I'll let the staff know you'll be here for a while."

"Thanks, Doc." Just before Al pushed through the door to Sam's room he turned back to Dr. Sloan. "Doc, do you have any idea what caused this?"

"Right now, no. It could be as simple as Sam having an allergic reaction to the donor blood or there could have been some kind of mix-up in the lab and the wrong unit was sent up. We won't know exactly what it was until the blood tests come back. That could take a couple of hours." Dr. Sloan looked at Al sympathetically. "I'm sorry I can't tell you exactly what caused the reaction right now."

"I understand, Doc." Al hesitated for just a moment before asking his next question. "I take it he's still going to need a transfusion."

Dr. Sloan nodded his agreement. "We need to replace the blood he's lost. If we don't, it could start to affect his heart and from what was indicated in his admitting papers about his family history, I don't think that's something we want happening. Don't worry, every effort is going to be made that this doesn't happen again." Dr. Sloan had correctly guessed Al's unease with the thought of another transfusion for Sam. "Why don't you go on in there and keep him company. I'll let you know as soon as I hear from the lab."

"Yeah. Thanks, Doc." Al wished he could be as sure as Dr. Sloan was that the same mistake wouldn't happen again but knew it would keep nagging at him.

As Al slipped through the door into Sam's room, Mark watched him until the door closed behind him. It was clear to see there was a definite connection between the two men that went beyond a simple friendship. He could see in the admiral a lot of the same feelings he had when his own son had been shot in the line of duty. With a small shake of his head, he walked down the hall in the direction of the elevator banks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Al slipped into the room as quietly as he could not wishing to disturb Sam but it didn't matter. As soon as the younger man heard his step, his head came up off the pillow, his hazel eyes searching him out.

"You're supposed to be resting," Al told him quietly as he approached the bed. He noticed that the oxygen mask had been replaced with a nasal canula and remembered the uncomfortable feeling Sam had had the last time he had to use the mask. Al assumed he'd mentioned his discomfort.

"They put in a Foley," Sam quietly informed Al with an unmistakable note of distaste.

Al shook his head and shrugged to indicate he had no idea what it was that Sam was talking about.

"A catheter," Sam clarified.

"Oh." Al shared Sam's discomfort for a moment thinking back to when he'd experienced the same thing and its discomfort and unpleasantness. "Well, I'm sure they only did it because they had to."

"I know," Sam sighed. "I still don't like it."

"Well, I bet it won't be for long," Al tried to comfort.

"I guess," Sam sighed before shifting restlessly in the bed. With a wince, he began to rub lightly over his left side where he'd been stabbed.

"You still feeling pain?" Al asked although he thought it must be too soon for Sam to get anything else for pain.

"Not really. It's just uncomfortable." Sam moved his hand from his side and rubbed it over his face. "I just feel so awful and I'm so tired," he said wearily.

"Then you should sleep," Al pointed out reasonably. "Dr. Sloan said it's a good idea for you to get as much rest as possible. I bet if you do all the stuff they've given you to make you feel better will probably be able to work better."

Sam sighed wearily. "Every time I close my eyes," he started to say before pausing.

"You see it happening again?" Al suggested to him sympathetically. Spying the chair he'd been sitting on earlier, Al pulled it over to the side of the bed and dropped into it heavily. It was as he did so that he realized he was probably as tired as Sam was. He spied the fluid collection bag hanging off the side of the bed as he made himself comfortable and tried to hide a wince. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sam sighed as he weighed the offer and shook his head slightly. "I know I'm going to have to tell the police what happened. If it's all the same, I'd rather just go through it once." He rubbed his hand over his face again. "I wonder why they haven't come in to talk to me yet."

"Probably because the doc wants you to get some rest before you get grilled. I gotta agree with him. You need to rest and be stronger before they go and start giving you the third degree." Al let out a sigh of his own and leaned over the railing on the bed dropping his hand on Sam's arm. "How 'bout you close your eyes and try to get some rest and I'll keep you company until you fall asleep."

"Keeping the boogieman away again?" Sam asked with a forced laugh. "Seems you end up doing that an awful lot, Al." He drew a deep breath and let it out with a sigh before turning his head to stare at the wall and away from Al. His voice dropped to something just above a whisper. "This is crazy, Al. I'm a grown adult." As he continued, his voice grew louder and the tone of self-derision was unmistakable. "I should be able to stay by myself. I shouldn't need you to stay here in case I have a bad dream."

Al leaned his crossed arms on the bed rail and propped his chin on them looking at Sam studiously. "It doesn't suit you, Sam," he said matter of factly. "Doesn't suit you at all."

"Huh?" Sam questioned. Al's statement took him completely off-guard and he turned to face him, eyebrows crinkling in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"This whole self-pity thing. It just doesn't suit you. Then again, I'm pretty sure we've had this discussion before." Al pushed away from the bedrail and leaned back in the chair. "I don't know about you, Sam, but I'm tired and I really don't have it in me to cover ground we've gone over in the past." He leaned forward again so that his arms were propped up on the bedrail. "Kid," he said on a sigh, "you've been through a lot today, a whole lot. I'd be shocked as hell if you weren't upset by it."

Again Sam looked away from Al to the wall across from him. "Doesn't mean I should need a babysitter," he muttered.

Al dropped one hand down to the bed grabbing and squeezing Sam's wrist gently. "You don't need a babysitter. You just need a little company. If it makes you feel any better, I could use some myself right now."

Something in the way Al said the words admitting that he didn't want to be alone broke through to Sam and he turned back to face Al's eyes. Again his brow crinkled in confusion and his mouth opened and closed as he sought the words he couldn't seem to find.

Seeing Sam's reaction, Al favored him with a lopsided smile. "What? You think you're the only one who's gonna have nightmares about this one?"

"I guess I didn't really think about it?" Sam said softly. "Seems like you're always there when something happens."

"Yeah, like I'm some kind of curse on you." Al quickly got up from the chair crossing over to the window and looking out it. "Sometimes I think you'd be better of without me."

"No." Sam disagreed. "You're not.". Without thinking, he pushed the blankets from over his body and began to throw his legs over the side of the bed to get up. It was only as he did so that he remembered that, at the moment, it was nearly impossible for him to do that. "Damn it," he said softly punching a fist into the mattress.

Al whirled around at the soft curse and saw Sam somewhere between getting out of bed and being in bed. Hurrying over to him, he pushed the injured man back against the mattress and pulled the blankets back up over him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" He didn't mean the question to come out as angry as it did but that's how it ended up sounding.

Sam flinched slightly at the sound of the anger but did his best to quell any other reaction. "I was thinking of going over there and knocking some sense into you," he said with a forced levity. "I just forgot for a second that they've made sure I'm tied to this bed without actually tying me down."

"Maybe they should be tying you down," Al said off-handedly as he finished twitching the blankets in place. As he did so, he caught sight of how Sam's face blanched at his words. "Ah, geeze, Sam," he said immediately regretting what he'd said. "I'm sorry I said that. You know I don't mean it."

"It's ok, Al. I know you didn't mean it and I shouldn't let it bother me." Sam sighed looking all around the room before looking back to Al who'd once again slumped down in the chair by the bed. "I'm beginning to think I've spent more time in hospitals lying flat on my back in bed than the time I spent in them during my internship and residency."

Al smiled slightly. "I've got to admit, it's been an odd way of touring the country."

In the time that Al had known Sam, the younger man had been hospitalized at one time or another in DC, Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and New Jersey. Now they could add California to that list.

"Some people collect postcards," Sam said with an answering smile that quickly faded. "I guess I've decided to collect hospital bracelets instead." He shifted restlessly in the bed and winced slightly before again rubbing lightly over the bandaged area of his abdomen.

"You need to settle down and get some rest," Al advised when he saw the wince. "Like I said, I'll stay with you a while."

Sam nodded slightly before letting his eyes fall closed. Silence descended on the room but it was only for a few minutes. "Are you ok, Al?" Sam asked softly breaking the silence.

"Am I ok?" The question caught Al by surprise and he couldn't keep it out of his voice. "In case you missed it, Kiddo, you're the one in the hospital bed, not me."

"I kind of picked up on that, Al. What I mean is, last time something like this happened you sort of went over the deep end and tried to wrap me up in bubble wrap. I was just wondering if you were going to do the same thing again."

Al leaned forward again propping his chin up on his arms that he leaned on the bed rail. "Nah. It's too hot out here to wrap you up in plastic. I was thinking maybe I'd find some cotton batting instead."

Sam didn't rise to the bait or try to share in Al's levity. "I'm serious, Al. Are you ok?"

Sighing, Al again leaned back in the chair. He opened and closed his mouth several times looking for the words he wanted. The expectant look on Sam's face didn't help. He finally rose slowly from the chair once more and again went over to the window. "To tell you the truth, Sam, I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now. I was scared to death when I walked in and saw you lying there bleeding like that and now I'm just thankful that you're going to be ok." He sighed again and turned to face Sam leaning back on the window ledge. "If you're asking if I'm gonna start having nightmares about this…I just don't know, Sam. I just don't know." Al walked back over to the bed standing beside it and looking down to the man lying there. "I do know that you're supposed to be resting, not playing amateur shrink to me. If you don't start getting some shut eye, they're gonna kick me outta here 'cause they're gonna think it's all my fault."

"I don't want to sleep," Sam whispered softly. "If I don't sleep, I can't dream."

Al was prevented from answering Sam when a nurse came in the door. In her hand she carried a unit of blood and she pushed an IV pole in with her. Al walked around to the other side of the bed to give her room to work.

The two men watched in silence while she carefully compared the tag on the bag to the bracelet on Sam's wrist and then double-checked the information. "I'm going to have to start this in your right arm so you're going to have IV's going into both," she said apologetically.

Sam licked his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah. Uh…that's ok." As she tied the tourniquet around his arm he turned his head away not wanting to watch what the nurse was doing.

"Ok, you're gonna feel a pinch now," she told him as she inserted the needle in his arm. Silently, Sam nodded his head in agreement wincing slightly as his flesh was pierced.

In contrast to Sam, Al watched every move the woman made. He was concerned, as he knew the younger man was that there could be another mistake made with the blood. When he saw the wince as the needle penetrated Sam's flesh, he reached down and grasped his wrist squeezing it slightly in support.

"Ok, you're all set," the nurse told him when she was done. "I'm going to come back in a few minutes to check to see how you're doing but if you feel any discomfort before then, you make sure you ring."

Sam nodded to indicate that he understood and watched as the woman left the room. When she disappeared through the door, his eyes tracked back up to the blood transfusion and he stared at it transfixed.

"You can't worry about it, Sam," Al quietly pointed out startling the younger man. "You can't lie there and worry that it's wrong again," Al continued when Sam looked in his direction. "You'll just end up making yourself sick with worry."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said quietly. "I just can't help but think…" He didn't finish the thought but instead shrugged one shoulder.

Al gently patted the hand under his. "I know, Kid, I know." He watched as Sam tried, unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "You need to try to sleep," he advised picking up the thread of the conversation they'd been having before the nurse's arrival. "I know you're afraid you're going to dream but you need to rest."

"I know," Sam answered softly before pulling in a deep breath. "You really don't mind sitting with me for a while until I go to sleep?" He looked everywhere but at Al as he made the request.

"I don't mind, Kid. I told you I would," Al reminded him. He circled around the bed until he once again was sitting in the chair. Reaching over the rail, he encircled Sam's wrist in his hand squeezing it comfortingly. "Close your eyes and just try not to think about anything."

Sam settled into the pillow a little deeper. He knew Al would be there as he went to sleep and when he woke up. It may have seemed childish, but he had to admit, for that moment, knowing that made him feel safe and after the events of the day, safe felt pretty good. Before he could think another thought, he had fallen into an easy unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

For a half hour, Sam fell in and out of a light sleep although he never quite woke completely. Occasionally he'd mumble something under his breath or stir restlessly but, for the most part, he remained quietly asleep.

The nurse had come in twice during that time checking his vital signs each time. Thankfully, this time there were none of the same problems he'd experienced with the earlier transfusion. Al breathed a sigh of relief for that.

The nurse had just left the room after once more checking on Sam when there was a soft knocking on the door. Al turned around just as the door pushed open and a tall, light-haired man poked his head in the room.

"Can I help you?" Al asked as he got up from the chair and approached the man. There was something about his features that were familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"I'm Lt. Steve Sloan," the man said. He opened the leather case that his badge was in and showed it to Al. "I'm a detective with the LAPD. I'd like to ask Dr. Beckett some questions about what happened earlier."

"Sloan?" Al questioned as he looked carefully at the badge and ID.

"Yeah," the detective said with a slight smile. "You probably met my father earlier. Dr. Mark Sloan."

"Ah," Al said in sudden understanding. Now he knew why the man's features looked so familiar since he strongly resembled his father. "He's sleeping right now. Do you think you could do this later?"

"Al? Who is it?" Sam's sleepy voice asked contradicting what his friend had just said.

"It's a police detective," Al explained going back over to stand by the bed. It didn't pass his notice that Lt. Sloan stopped just inside the opened door. "He wants to ask you some questions."

Sam darted his eyes over to the man standing by the door and then back to Al. "Oh," was all he said.

"I can tell him to come back later," Al suggested not wanting Sam to be discomforted by having to relive the day's events if he wasn't ready. "You're supposed to be resting right now."

"No," Sam said with a shake of his head. "Let's just get it over with."

Hearing Sam's consent, Lt. Sloan moved further into the room and approached the bed. "I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan," he said holding his hand out to Sam.

Sam accepted the handshake then fumbled for the controls to bring the bed up. "Sloan? That's my doctor's name," he said once he'd brought the head of the bed up so that he could face the man comfortably.

Steve smiled slightly at Sam's words having just had a similar discussion with Al. "That would be Mark Sloan. I'm his son. I have a few questions for you, Dr. Beckett, if you're up to it?"

"Yeah," Sam said nodding his head. "I don't know how much help I'll be though."

Steve sat in the chair that Al had been using earlier and pulled out a notebook and pen. Al went over to the window behind him, sitting down on the ledge. If he thought the questioning was getting out of hand, he was going to make sure he was there to put a stop to it.

"You might be more help than you realize, Dr. Beckett. We've been after this guy for about a month now. You're the first person who's had a run-in with him and lived to tell the tale. Chances are, if you hadn't walked in when you did, he probably would have killed that girl."

Sam swallowed heavily and, if possible, blanched further at Steve's words. "I'll do what I can," he said in a strained voice. "What do you need to know?"

"Well," Steve began, pen poised over the notepad, "why don't you just tell me what happened and we'll go from there."

"Yeah, sure." Sam licked suddenly dry lips and looked around for a cup of water or the ice chips from earlier. Before Steve had a chance to hand him the cup, Al was up and by his side.

"Still no water yet, Kid," he said as he offered a spoonful of the ice chips to Sam. After two more spoonfuls, Sam indicated that he'd had enough and Al returned to his seat on the window ledge.

Sam took a couple of moments to compose himself before beginning his accounting of what had happened. "When I walked into the mini-mart I noticed the guy in front of the counter with a pretty big knife. The girl…" he trailed off remembering the girl for the first time. "Is she ok?"

"She's fine, Dr. Beckett," Steve assured him. "You're the only one who got hurt."

Sam nodded slightly. "Good that's good." He paused for a few minutes before continuing. "I asked what was going on but I knew…at least I think I did. You don't hold a knife on someone like that for no reason. I don't think he'd heard me come in and when I asked, I think it startled him and he turned in my direction. I thought maybe if I talked to him or something the girl would have a chance to get out. I don't know… he must have panicked because before I realized what he was doing, he ran at me and then I felt this burning pain in my stomach. I guess that's when he stabbed me. I think he ran out at that point but I don't really remember much after that." He stopped, squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a few seconds before opening them. "I'm sorry, that's all I really remember."

Steve finished writing in the notebook then looked up to Sam. "It's more than we've been able to get so far. Like I said, you're the only person who's survived. He usually waits until there's only a clerk in the mini-mart, takes whatever cash is there and stabs the person to death. So far we don't even have a description of him. As a matter of fact, we weren't even sure the suspect was a male until now."

"If no one's lived who's seen him," Sam asked, "how do you know it's been the same person?"

"It's been the same scenario eight times in the last four weeks," Steve explained. "The likelihood of them being different perpetrators just isn't there.

"Oh. So, how can I help?" Sam asked hitching himself higher in bed. As he did, a small grimace of pain crossed his features.

"You saw him, right?" Steve waited until Sam nodded his agreement before continuing. "We need a description of him. You think you give me one?"

"I think so," Sam said with some tentativeness. "I did get a pretty good look at his face for a couple of seconds." Again he grimaced as he felt a ripple of pain.

This time Al took notice of the pain Sam was in and decided it was time to interfere. "That's enough for now," he stated firmly. "He's supposed to be resting. You can get a description from him later."

"Al, I can…" Sam started to say but he was cut off.

"No, Sam. You're supposed to be resting and I can see you're starting to feel some pain again. This can be done later."

"Your friend's right, Dr. Beckett," Steve said rising from the chair. "You do look like you're in pain. I don't want to make you more uncomfortable." He started to back away toward the door. "If you're up to it, I'd like to get a sketch artist in here tomorrow to work with you, maybe have you look through some mug shots."

Sam first shot an irritated look in Al's direction for calling a halt to the interview before responding to Steve. "Yeah, that'd be fine. I really want to help you catch this guy any way I can before he can hurt someone else."

"Well, we'll certainly appreciate any help you can give us. Try to rest, Dr. Beckett and I'll be back with the sketch artist tomorrow." The detective put his hand on the door and started to pull it open before turning back to Al. "You wouldn't happen to be Admiral Calavicci, would you?"

"I am," Al responded. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem. I just have a few questions I need to ask you. Would you mind joining me outside?"

"Yeah, sure." Al stopped by the side of the bed and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'll be right back, Kid."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam responded with a wry smile. "They have me tied down, remember?"

"Yeah, well, just try to get some rest." With a final look back at his friend in the bed, Al followed Steve out the door to the corridor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Once in the hall, Al noticed Steve still had his notepad out. Understanding what the man wanted, Al didn't waste any time imparting what information, as little as it was, that he had. "If you want to know what the guy looked like, I can't really help. I only caught a glimpse of him when he came running out."

"Right now, Admiral, anything you can give us is more than we already have."

Al proceeded to give as detailed a description of the man he'd seen running out of the gas station mini mart as he could. He didn't go much beyond the fact that that he'd seen a Caucasian male in his late twenties, about 6 feet tall and wearing a red windbreaker. Steve agreed with him that it wasn't much to go on but at least it was a start.

When he'd finished answering the questions, Al had some of his own. "What about Sam?" he demanded. "You said he's the only one besides the girl to come out of this alive. Doesn't it stand to reason this nozzle'll come after them?"

Steve did his best to placate Al, assuring him that Sam would be protected. "We're taking precautions to prevent that from happening. The girl's being protected and we're keeping any specific details about what happened from the press – specifically Dr. Beckett's name and what hospital he was taken to. If I think his safety is being compromised in the least, I'll get uniformed officers outside his door. Believe me, I want to nail this guy and the way to do that is to make sure Dr. Beckett's around to help."

The assurances weren't enough for Al. "That may be true, Lieutenant, and I'm glad you're doing what you are, but my main concern is Sam and his safety. If I think he's in any kind of danger, I'm going to do whatever I think is necessary to protect him and that includes convincing him to keep quiet."

Steve wasn't about to just let this go. Right now Dr. Beckett was the key to catching this psycho and he wasn't going to let this man in front of him interfere. Dropping his placating manner, he took a step towards Al using his height advantage of the smaller man. In deference to their presence in a hospital, he struggled to keep his voice low but firm. "I don't think you understand me, Admiral. This guy's been killing people and right now the only hope in hell we have of catching him is whatever Dr. Beckett can tell us. The girl wasn't much for providing anything useful. She remembered even less than you did."

Al wasn't about to allow himself to be either intimidated or to back down. One didn't become a two star admiral by backing down. He took his own step forward. "And I don't think you understand me." Unlike Steve, he didn't make quite as much effort to keep his voice down. "I couldn't care less about your case. I only care about Sam and I'm not going to let him be put in danger just so you can make your bust. You either find a way to do it and keep him safe or you can just forget about him."

There was no way he was going to let Sam be put into any danger. He wasn't able to prevent it when the plane had crashed and Sam had been hit by the car and he still wasn't convinced that those weren't the product of someone who had it out for Sam. This time he could do something about it.

"Don't you think it's Dr. Beckett's decision whether or not he's going to help us?"

The two stood toe to toe outside the door to Sam's room, neither backing down. Al was going to do whatever he had to keep his friend safe. Steve was just as determined to find out exactly what Sam remembered from the attack if it would help.

"Something wrong out here?" a new voice asked.

Steve looked quickly over at the voice and saw his father walking toward him and Al. "Nothing, Dad. I'm just trying to make Admiral Calavicci understand how important Dr. Beckett's help is to this case."

Al turned to the white-haired doctor who'd joined them in the hall. "The only problem, Dr. Sloan, is that the lieutenant here can't seem to understand that I won't let him put Sam in danger."

Mark looked between the two men seeing identical looks of bull-headedness and knew that if he didn't play peacemaker fast, they were both going to erupt. He stepped between the two men, planted one hand on each one's chest and pushed them back from each other. "Do I have to remind you that you're in a hospital?" he asked them sternly.

Both men shook their heads and backed off. "Admiral, why don't you go in with Sam," Mark suggested.

Al looked at the doctor and nodded, complying with doctor's suggestion. As he walked through the door to Sam's room, he looked back at Steve. "I'm not kidding; I'll do whatever I have to make sure he's safe." He didn't give the detective an opportunity to answer before pushing through the door and letting it close behind him.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" Mark asked as the door closed behind Al.

"Nothing, Dad," Steve sighed. "I just don't get that guy. Dr. Beckett's the only real lead we have to nail this sicko before he kills someone else and he's telling me he'll make sure he doesn't talk to me."

Mark put a placating hand on his son's arm and started to lead him away from the room. "The admiral's just worried about his friend. I'm sure Dr. Beckett will talk to you tomorrow but I don't think it's a good idea to push right now."

Steve stopped their progress up the hall and turned to face his father. "You sound like you think this guy is right."

Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not a matter of thinking he's right or wrong, Steve. I just understand how he feels.

Steve looked at his father quizzically for a few moments. "What do you mean understand how he feels? He's getting in the way of a police investigation and it could end up costing people their lives. There's nothing to understand."

Mark again started to lead his son up the corridor to the nearby elevator. "He's worried, Steve. If that were you in there, I'd be feeling the same way and I'd probably be doing and saying the same thing. Right now the more you push, the more the admiral is going to push back if he thinks it means keeping Dr. Beckett safe."

"All right, Dad. I get it. I don't like it but I get it." Frustrated, Steve banged at the call button on the elevator. The doors opened immediately and he walked in then turned to face his father. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to talk to Beckett. Maybe you can send Calavicci on his way before then."

Mark chuckled at his son's suggestions. "I don't think that's going to happen without using some dynamite," he said as the elevator doors closed hiding his son's frustrated face. He sighed again and shook his head before making his way back up the corridor to Sam Beckett's room. He'd come by to see how his patient was doing before his shift ended and he still had to do that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Nancy Wayne had grown up in a small town in Kansas. She'd decided early on that she was not going to spend her life there. She was going to escape the small town life and she was going to be famous.

Her parents had insisted she go to nursing school to make something of her life. She'd done it to appease them but she didn't plan on spending her life working in some hospital. She had bigger plans. What she really wanted was to be on a movie screen. To achieve that goal, she'd have to leave Kansas and go to California. Specifically to the city of Angels.

Against her parents' wishes, she'd come to Los Angeles earlier in the year determined to make her dream come true. She fell back on her nursing skills in order to earn her way and soon found a position at Community General Hospital. It was just a stepping stone for her and she knew it wouldn't be too long before she made it big.

Nancy had met Bob Daley at coffee shop a few weeks back. He did special news reports for the one of the local news stations. He'd struck up a conversation with Nancy in the coffee shop and had hinted to her that if she ever came across anything at the hospital that might seem news worthy, he'd be willing compensate her for the knowledge if it brought him a scoop. Bob wasn't overly concerned with the concept of scruples but he was concerned with bringing in the dirt or new stories, especially of the interesting and famous.

When she'd walked into one of the patient rooms earlier to start a blood transfusion, she'd immediately recognized the man lying in the bed and knew that this was a scoop that Bob would pay well for and that would mean socking away a few more dollars to get into an acting class and in front of a camera.

Her little brother back home in Kansas was interested, almost obsessed with physics. He had a poster of Albert Einstein hanging on his wall and next to that was a Time Magazine cover picture of someone _Time_ had called the next Einstein. That someone was Nobel Prize Winning Physicist Dr. Samuel Beckett and it was the same person who was lying in that bed.

As soon as she'd started the transfusion, and made sure there were no ill effects, she'd gone running for the phone. She knew this would be a definite scoop for Bob and quickly dialed the number. "Bob, it's Nancy. Have I got a scoop for you…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Al reentered Sam's room determined to do whatever he could to talk his friend out of working with the police. Even though he understood how instrumental Sam was to the police catching the man who'd hurt him, he had a bad feeling that somehow this would only end up leading to more trouble for Sam. Unfortunately, he wasn't given the opportunity.

First he had to wait until Mark finished his examination. That was quickly followed by a nurse coming in with another pain shot for Sam. Shortly after that Sam had started to drift off so the chance of any intelligent communication with him vanished.

"Al, go back to the hotel," was the last intelligent thing Sam said before closing his eyes and drifting into a healing sleep.

Al sat by the bed watching Sam sleep. He would have much rather have sat their all night watching over Sam but he didn't think he'd get away with it this time. He grabbed the remote off the TV and clicked it off just as Bob Daly started his breaking news report.

He stood over Sam for another few moments trying to shake the need to stay where he was. Finally, he bent down over Sam whispering in his ear. "I'll be back soon, Kid. You do what they tell you and don't give anyone any problems."

There was no answer from Sam – not that he expected one.

As he left the room and began to walk down the corridor he scanned the area carefully. Nothing and no one seemed out of place. "You're being paranoid, Calavicci," he whispered and made his way to elevator.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Sam opened his eyes to a darkened room. Something, a noise, had woken him up and he wasn't sure what it was. He listened carefully but the only sound he heard was the soft beeping coming from the heart monitor.

He was about to dismiss the noise as his imagination when he heard it again. It sounded like a soft footstep. "Al?" he called out. He'd sent the older man back to the hotel earlier but that didn't mean he wasn't trying to sneak back in to the room. That would explain the footstep being so hesitant. A nurse wouldn't be worrying about being sent from the room again.

"Al, I know you're trying to sneak back in here," he called out when there was no response to his first call. Again there was no response but the footsteps came closer stopping by the bed. In the dim light coming through the window, he could make out the shape of a person and nothing else. The person was taller and thinner than Al was. "Who are…" he started to ask only to be cut off by a pillow coming down across his face.

He struggled against his attacker but whoever it was had the advantage of being over him. His reactions were significantly slowed by the painkillers he'd been given. The more he struggled, the harder the pillow was pushed down on his face. He started to see glowing spots as his oxygen was cut off. His struggles diminished until he was just weakly pushing at the person smothering him. At that moment he thought of his Mom and that the loss of her second child was going to be hard on her. He knew Katie would do all she could.

Just as unconsciousness was reaching out to him, he heard someone else come into the room and call out. The pillow abruptly disappeared from his face and he gasped in air. He heard the sounds of footsteps running from the room but kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to satisfy the demand of his oxygen-starved lungs. He was only vaguely aware that the beeping of the heart monitor seemed to have doubled in speed.

When he felt a hand touch his arm he flinched away thinking the attacker had come back. The touch was gentle, though, as was the voice who accompanied it. "It's ok, Dr. Beckett. He's gone."

He heard other footsteps coming into the room but still kept his eyes squeezed shut. He felt hands touch him, taking his vital signs, pulling an oxygen mask over his face. The people in his room talked to each other and called to him. Finally, he opened his eyes looking at the people around him. He recognized one as the doctor who'd been in his room earlier and had initially treated his reaction to the blood transfusion.

"Dr. Beckett?" the blonde doctor asked. "Are you with us? Can you answer me?"

Sam nodded his head slightly but it looked like the doctor wanted more of an answer. "Yeah. I'm…I'm…" He was what? He wasn't ok, that was for sure. He'd walked into a robbery in progress this afternoon earning himself a knife in the gut and now someone had tried to smother him.

"Ok, Dr. Beckett. I want you try to relax." The doctor, Sam thought his name was Travis, spoke clearly to him making sure he understood everything he said. "You're going to be fine. I want you to just relax and try to breathe normal. Try to slow down your breathing."

At the doctor's words, Sam realized that he was still gasping in air in short, fast gulps and did his best to slow down. He knew from his own medical experience that he wouldn't help himself and, instead, might end up hyperventilating. He again squeezed his eyes shut concentrating solely on taking in deep even breaths. Eventually it got easier and he heard the heart monitor's beeping slow down.

He was aware of something being injected into the IV running into his arm. As the drug hit his system, he felt his body grow lighter and the burning pain in his abdomen began to lessen. "Don't call Al," he ordered

His voice was still strained and further muffled by the oxygen mask that had been pulled over his face and Dr. Travis misunderstood what he said. "Don't worry, Dr. Beckett, your friend will be called. Let's just take care of you right now."

Sam tried to protest again but the attack, the drug he'd been given, and everything that had happened that day all combined and pulled him spiraling down a black hole where nothing mattered. His last thought before the darkness fully claimed him was that he hoped that Al would at least try to be careful driving.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Al remembered when he left Sam that the car they had rented had been left at the gas station earlier. He called Sloan at the number he'd been given and was told that the car had been impounded. He was given the information to contact the yard that held the vehicle.

Learning the yard was closed until the next morning, he called the rental company to tell them what had happened, including the fact that Sam, who had been on the rental agreement as a driver, had been injured. Since the car wasn't damaged but there wasn't any way to get the vehicle until the next day, the rental company agreed to provide another car. They also agreed, under the circumstances, to pick up the car from the impound lot. It took another hour and a half until things were settled but, eventually, Al made it to the hotel, got ready for bed, and fell into the semblance of sleep.

As soon as he heard the phone ringing he knew it was going to be about Sam. He just didn't expect that the person on the other end would be telling him that his friend had been attacked in his hospital bed and almost killed. "I'll be right there," he snarled before slamming the phone down.

When he got a hold of the younger Sloan, he was going to nail the man's hide to a wall. He'd promised that Sam would be protected and he'd done a sorry job of it.

He didn't care about speed limits and traffic laws as he drove at break neck speed through LA. The one thought on his mind was to get to the hospital as fast as he could, make sure Sam really was ok, and make sure nothing like this happened again.

When he reached the floor Sam's room was on, he saw a group of police officers and some suit-clad men clustered outside the room. He didn't recognize most of them but he knew Steve Sloan and marched up to the man shoving him back against a wall. "What the hell happened?" he demanded. When he felt the others trying to pull him back, he shrugged them off. This man owed him an explanation and he was going to get it.

Steve waved off the men trying to pull Al back. "If you stop trying to push me through this wall, I'll tell you." He kept his voice level and reasonable when he spoke to Al.

Al hesitated for just a few seconds before letting go of Steve's jacket and taking a step back. "You said he'd be protected and no one knew where he was. What the hell happened?"

Steve sighed. "Someone leaked it to the press, or more precisely, to Bob Daley that Dr. Beckett was here. We're guessing the perp saw the newscast and came here to make sure no one would be around to identify him."

"So where the hell were you?" Al snarled. "You let this get to the news and then you don't even bother to put any protection on him. What the hell kind of a police detective are you?"

Steve took a deep breath and reigned in his temper. He could understand why the admiral was upset but there was something about the man that just rubbed him the wrong way. "As soon as we were alerted to the fact that the story was on the news, a unit was dispatched here right away. Unfortunately, they didn't get here in time."

"You don't say?" Al quickly dropped the sarcasm. He needed answers. "How the hell did it get on the news anyway? You told me Sam's involvement and identity was being kept away from the press."

"We don't know," Steve explained knowing it was probably going to enrage Al. "We've talked to Daley and he's refusing to tell us who gave him the information."

"You tell me where this Daley is and I'll get the answers out of him."

"Could you hold it down out here," Mark hissed as he walked out of Sam's room. "Need I remind the both of you that this is a hospital and you're disturbing patients?"

"Sorry, Dad," Steve murmured.

Al didn't bother with apologies. He went right to the heart of the matter demanding to know how Sam was.

"He's resting right now," Mark explained. He looked sternly from his son to Al. "He won't be, though, if the two of you keep at it out here."

This time Al did acknowledge the admonishment he was given. "Ok, I understand. I just want to know what happened, and how it's going to affect Sam's recovery, and," he looked pointedly at Steve, "I want to know how a man under police protection could be attacked. I also want to know what's going to be done so it doesn't happen again."

"Why don't we go to my office," Mark suggested in an effort to head off another confrontation between the two men. "We can discuss all of this there."

"I want to see Sam first," Al stated. He was not going to be stopped from seeing with his own eyes that Sam really was ok.

Mark pushed the door to the room, holding it open for Al. "Just a few minutes. He's resting and I'd like him to stay that way."

Al started to walk through the door but looked back to Mark. "I just need to see that he's ok. I won't bother him."

The room was dim with only the light from the window and the doorway. Al slowly crept to the side of bed stopping there and looking down at his friend. Sam didn't move or respond at all to Al's presence.

"What the hell happened, Kid?" Al asked in a quiet whisper, not expecting his friend to answer. He rested his hand softly on Sam's careful not to disturb him. Again, there was no reaction from him and Al guessed that he'd been sedated. A nasal canula was once again providing Sam with oxygen and his pallor was more heightened than it had been before. Al took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "I'm gonna make sure that this doesn't happen to you again. You've got my word."

This time there was a small response for Sam. As his head turned a fraction of an inch in Al's direction, a soft sigh came from him. Al brushed imaginary wrinkles from the blanket. "You just rest and I'm gonna take care of everything and find out how this happened," he advised before turning to leave the room. "Ok, where's your office?" he demanded as he exited the room and pulled the door closed behind him.

"Right this way," Mark said leading Al and Steve to the elevators.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Al and Steve restrained themselves from saying anything, waiting until they reached Mark's office. That didn't stop either from exchanging glares in the elevator. Mark was careful to stay out either man's direct line of sight for fear of being burnt by those glares.

The door to his office was barely shut behind them when Al demanded to know exactly what had taken place. Father and son exchanged looks before Mark decided it would be best if he started this tale.

He sat behind his desk and gestured for the other two to take the seats in front of it before starting his explanation. "One of the doctor's on staff, Dr. Livingston, happened to be outside of Dr. Beckett's room earlier this evening and saw someone go in the room. She knew Dr. Beckett's identity was being kept secret and that you were the only visitor he'd had so she went into the room to investigate. When she got in the room, someone was trying to smother Dr. Beckett with a pillow. Whoever it was ran off when she called out." Mark kept his explanation as matter fact and reasonable as he could since he had a good idea anything would set Al off.

"Where the hell was his protection?" Al challenged jumping up from his chair. "I still don't understand how this could get leaked to the press and why there wasn't anyone outside that room to protect him." He towered over Steve who was still seated. "You were supposed to make sure nothing happened to him."

"As I explained to you earlier, Admiral, we don't know where the leak was but we've got that under investigation. As soon as we became aware that Dr. Beckett's identity had been compromised, a unit was dispatched."

Al looked hard at Steve before turning away to pace the well-appointed office. "There should have been someone outside his room regardless. You shouldn't have waited until he was compromised to put someone on him." He stopped in front of the closed door and slapped his hand against it. "Damn it, I should have stayed with him. This wouldn't have happened if I had."

Mark looked down briefly at his desk unsure just what to stay. He'd been the one to convince the Admiral that he should leave Sam to get rest. He couldn't help thinking that if he had allowed Al to stay, not only would his patient not been put into danger but the man who'd tried to kill him may have been caught. Of course, the alternative to that was had Al been there, he could have ended up another victim. "We can't change what happened," he said in a level voice. "We all could have done something different that might have prevented this but it happened."

"And what does this mean for Sam," Al asked whirling around. "How much has this set him back?"

Now they were on ground Mark was more familiar with. "Dr. Livingston interrupted the attack before any real harm was done. The time that Dr. Beckett was without oxygen wasn't more than a few seconds. He was completely cognizant and aware after the attack although he was understandably upset which is why he was sedated. This shouldn't set his recovery back at all."

"The EMT's that brought him here told me this hospital had a very good reputation." Al laughed mirthlessly. "If this is good, I'd hate to see what a bad reputation is. In the time he's been here the blood transfusion has been screwed up and someone was allowed to waltz into his room and try to smother him with a pillow. Maybe what I should be doing is arranging to get him transferred somewhere where he'll be safer."

Mark took a deep breath and let it out slowly before standing and going over to where Al was standing. "I can see why you'd think that, Admiral. You have my deepest apologies for what has happened here today and I'm giving you my personal assurance that every measure will be taken to assure Dr. Beckett's well-being from this point on."

Al waved off the doctor's words. "Would that be like the assurances your son gave me that the nozzle who did this wouldn't know where Sam was?"

Hearing Al's words Steve flinched ever so slightly. He too got up from the chair and stood with the other two men by the door. "I might deserve that Calavicci but my father doesn't. He's a damned good doctor and he's doing everything he can for your friend."

Al stared at Steve for a beat before conceding to him with a short nod. "I still don't like what's happened here. That yahoo knows where Sam is now. What's going to prevent him from coming back and trying again?"

"There will be a uniformed officer outside his door whose sole job will be to make sure that no one who isn't authorized to be in that room will be allowed in it."

"Not good enough," Al said with a headshake. "You said it yourself, there's a leak somewhere in this hospital. Someone leaked the information to that reporter that Sam was here. How do you know that same someone won't help whoever the killer is gain access to Sam's room?"

"He's got a point there, Steve," Mark said as he walked back to his desk and again sat behind it. He gestured to the two chairs inviting the other two men to sit once more. In silent agreement, they both acceded to the older man's request.

"If we don't know who it was who leaked the information out to Daley," Mark started to say, "we don't know for sure that it's not someone who has the freedom to go anywhere here – and can take someone else with him or her, Even with a uniformed officer outside Dr. Beckett's door, that could still cause problems. At the very least, it could cause disruption for the other patients. At worst, it could endanger them as well. We need to find an alternative."

Steve pursed his lips for a moment trying to find a solution to the current problem. "How about a safe house? Is he well enough to for us to move him to one of the department's safe houses. We'd be able to have 24 hour protection on him then and we wouldn't be endangering anyone here at the hospital."

Mark sat back in the chair, an expression of dislike on his face. "I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable moving him just yet. Although he hasn't had any problems due to the mix up in the blood transfusion, he's still at risk for infection because he's asplenic. I'd like to make sure he's getting round the clock care. I'm not sure that's possible at a safe house."

Al looked back and forth between father and son, a silent spectator as they tried to figure out a solution. "What about another hospital?" he suggested. "He wouldn't be here where that nozzle knows he is and he'd still be able to get the medical care he needs."

"That would require paperwork to do the transfer," Mark pointed out. He leaned forward on the desk. "That brings us back to not knowing how the information of his whereabouts was leaked out and it could just happen again. If we only knew who it was."

"I told you," Al growled, "you give me 10 minutes with this Daley character and I'll have him begging to tell you where his information came from. You don't stay a guest of Charlie without picking up some of his secrets."

Steve looked at Al with mild surprise understanding just a little where he was coming from. "Much as I might like that Admiral, I'd only be forced to take you in for attempted murder and that's not going to help any of us, including your friend."

A silence fell in the office as the three men tried to puzzle out the problem. Steve finally broke it. "Dad, you said a safe house wouldn't work because there wouldn't be medical care. What about if we moved Dr. Beckett to the beach house?"

"That could just work," Mark said. He leaned back in the chair, a grin on his face. "That would definitely work. I could be there and I'm sure Jesse and Amanda can help us out as well."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Al demanded holding up a hand. "What's the beach house and who are Jesse and Amanda?"

"The beach house would be my home," Mark explained. "Steve lives there as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I could provide medical care for Dr. Beckett and Steve would be there on the protection front." He reached to pick up the phone and started to dial. "Jesse is Dr. Travis. You met him earlier when Dr. Beckett had the reaction to the blood transfusion. Dr. Amanda Livingston was the person who interrupted the attacker before he could finish what he'd started." It was apparent whomever Mark was calling had answered when he turned his attention to the phone. "Amanda, I'm glad you haven't left yet. I need you to meet me in my office and bring Jesse if he's still here." There was a pause before he spoke again. "Ok, we'll just brief him tomorrow. I'll see you up here in a few minutes."

Less than ten minutes later Amanda Livingston joined the three men. Quickly Mark filled her in on what they'd been discussing and the need to get Sam somewhere where his safety wouldn't be compromised. "I know you have a day off tomorrow. I was hoping you could meet Steve at the beach house when he brings Dr. Beckett there and stay with him until I get off shift."

"Sure, Mark. I just need to drop CJ off at daycare first. What time do you think you'll be there?" Amanda asked looking at Steve.

"I don't know. I guess that's up to Dad."

Mark leaned his elbows on the desk steepling his hands in front of him. "That's going to depend on how Dr. Beckett is in the morning. The sedative Jesse gave him will probably keep him out for the night. I don't want to move him until he's completely lucid." He picked up a pen on the desk and tapped it a few times. "I'd say no earlier than 10:00 or 11:00 – and that's all depending on his condition." He looked at his son and stated firmly, "If there's the least little thing I don't like, he's not being moved. I understand that we have to secure his safety and the other patients as well but putting him at risk by moving him prematurely is not the way to do it."

"Sounds good, Dad." Steve rose from the chair and started to the office door. "I'll be back at 8:30 tomorrow and if everything's good to move him, we'll get him to the beach house."

"Wait a minute," Al said as he also got up and rushed to stop Steve at the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going? That's it? You'll be back at 8:30 tomorrow? What about right now?"

"Right now, Admiral," Steve said as calmly and patiently as he could, "there is a uniformed officer outside of Dr. Beckett's door. No one is going to get into that room unless they belong in there."

Al looked from Steve over to where Mark sat at the desk. "That's not good enough. I'm staying with him the rest of the night. This nozzle isn't going to get another chance at him tonight."

"I really don't think that's necessary. I told you there'll be a guard…" Steve started to say but he was cut off by Mark.

"I'll make the arrangements so that you can stay overnight in Dr. Beckett's room." Mark reached for the phone once again but before he dialed, he pinned Al with a look. "You can stay in the room but you are not to disturb him in the least. Sam's care and comfort is my primary concern in all of this and I won't allow it to be compromised."

Al didn't fail to notice that Mark had gone from referring to his friend as "Dr. Beckett" to referring to him as "Sam". He took it as a sign of just how serious the doctor was. "I wouldn't do anything that would compromise Sam. I just need to make sure he's safe tonight."

"I understand that, Admiral. Why don't you go there now? I'll let the floor nurse know you've been cleared to stay the night."

"Thanks," Al grunted before leaving the office.

After the door closed, Amanda turned to Steve. "I don't think he likes you," she said, a small smile playing around her mouth.

"Ya think? I don't know what the guy's problem is. He's acting like I can't do my job. Does he really think I want to let something happen to his friend? He's the only lead we have right now."

Mark hung up the phone just as Steve finished speaking. "They're more than just friends, Steve."

Steve looked quizzically from his father to the door that Al had gone out. "You mean they're…" he asked trailing off. "But I thought Calavicci was in the Navy?"

"No, no. Not that." Mark waved off Steve's suggestion. "It's almost like the two of them were family." When he saw the skeptical look on his son's face, he continued to explain. "If our situations were reversed, if you were the one in the hospital bed instead of Sam Beckett and the same chain of events had happened to you, I'd be acting just like Admiral Calavicci is. You may not like the way he's handling things, but I understand it."

"I know how I'd act if CJ were in any kind of danger," Amanda added. "Maybe he's not such a bad guy. Maybe he's just feeling a lot of stress right now because of what happened to Dr. Beckett."

"I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt." Steve rose from the chair and started toward the door. "If he does anything to compromise this investigation, though, that nutcase is likely to keep doing what he's been doing, and I can't let that happen." He pulled the door open but turned back when he'd stepped just outside of it. "I'm going back to Dr. Beckett's room and make sure the guard is in place for the night. I'll see you at home, Dad, and I'll see you tomorrow, Amanda."

When the two had acknowledged his parting, Steve pulled the door closed behind him and went to the elevator. He had a feeling dealing with Calavicci was going to be interesting. He didn't fault the guy for wanting to do what he could to protect his friend; he just hoped that he wouldn't do anything that went over the line.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Al was sitting in the chair by the bed just looking at Sam. His friend was deeply asleep, assisted by the sedative he'd been given. As he watched him, Al realized that the only time he really saw Sam still like this lately was when he was ill or injured. That wasn't a very good commentary on how things had been going for the kid of late.

One of the first things that Al had noticed about him after that first fateful meeting was the boundless energy that he had. He'd pull all-nighter after all-nighter in the lab and still be up for a basketball game or his martial arts workouts. The only time he'd be still and at rest was when he sat and read or was bent over a desk or lab table hard at work.

Of course, after expending all that energy Sam tended to crash hard when he finally did crash. It wasn't unusual for Al to walk into Sam's office in the early evening and find the kid zonked out on the couch or, more often, leaning on his desk, head pillowed on his arms finally catching up on the sleep he'd been missing.

All those times when he'd find him in the office like that, he'd had always looked peaceful. That look was missing now, though. Instead of the peaceful look, there was just the blank, unconsciousness of the drug-induced sleep.

On occasion Sam's brow would furrow and a grimace would cross his face. Al took a guess that at those times the dreams that often plagued Sam when he was under the weather were again haunting him. In the past a simple touch and quiet word would settle him down. This time it didn't seem to be working. Al guessed that that was, again, due to the sedative. As much as he was thankful for the fact that it had given Sam the respite of sleep, he was resentful of it because it prevented him from offering comfort when it was needed. Rather, it prevented Sam from realizing that that comfort was there.

After two hours of just sitting and watching, Al began to grow weary himself. He got up from the chair walking the length of the room a couple of times to stretch and wake himself up. When that didn't have the effect he would have liked, he pulled the door to the room open. Catching the attention of the guard there he told him, "I'm just gonna get some coffee but I'll be back."

Without waiting for an acknowledgement from the guard, Al left the room and headed over to the nurse's station. If anyone knew where to get a decent cup of coffee, as opposed of the swill in the vending machines it would be one of the nurses.

He stopped and leaned against the desk waiting until the nurse there finished entering information into the computer before signaling for her attention.

"Admiral Calavicci, is there something I can do for you?"

Al looked at the woman admiringly. She was quite a looker and under other circumstances, Al would have thought of a whole list of things she could do for him. Instead, he settled for the reason he'd come out. "I was just hoping you could point me in the direction of some decent coffee. I've had what's in the vending machine already today." He smiled charmingly at the woman. "Any more of it and I just might be a guest here too."

The nurse laughed softly at the small joke. "It is pretty bad." She leaned over the counter to get closer to Al, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you head down to the nurses lounge," she said pointing in the direction of the lounge, "you should find a fresh-brewed pot. I can't guarantee that it's gourmet but it is better than what's in the machine."

Al thanked the woman and left going down the hall in the indicated direction to get the cup of coffee. Once he had it, he hurried back to Sam's room not wanting to leave him longer than absolutely necessary.

When he got back to the room, the guard outside nodded to acknowledge his return. He looked like he should be more than capable to provide Sam the security that he needed but Al just didn't feel comfortable surrendering Sam's safety to a stranger.

Sam hadn't moved in the time he was gone and Al slipped into the chair again. He looked at his watch and saw that it was only 2:30 in the morning. There was still a lot of time left to the night.

He grabbed the remote off the bedside table and turned the TV on; making sure the volume was low. He didn't think it would bother the sleeping man but he didn't want to take any chances. He flipped through the channels and finally settled on a late, late showing of _Disco Inferno_. As far as movies went, it was more than a little cheesy but it would be something to help pass the time.

He drained the cup of coffee and settled in to watch the rest of the movie. It wasn't too much longer before he fell into an uneasy doze.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

It was shortly after dawn when the sound of someone entering the room pulled Al from his doze. He was instantly awake and on alert challenging the newcomer. "Who are you," he demanded.

"I'm…I'm from the lab," the man stammered out taken off-guard by the menace in Al's voice. "I'm just here to draw some blood, that's all. I'm not going to harm him."

Al backed down when he heard the man's words and saw that he had the equipment with him to draw blood as he'd said. "Ok. Sorry." He backed away from the bed to give the man room. He didn't go far, though, staying close by on the off chance that the man was not who he said he was.

Sam didn't stir until the man punctured his skin to draw the blood and then it was to pull back away from the slight, but new pain.

"I'm just drawing some blood," the lab tech explained to Sam. "You can go back to sleep." Unfortunately, Sam was still caught in that place between sleep and wakefulness and only tried to pull away again.

Al moved closer then. He went around to the other side of the bed and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Easy, Kid. He's not gonna hurt you." He kept rubbing gently until Sam finally woke completely and blinked his eyes lazily. "Hell of a wake up call, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." Sam lay quietly until the lab tech had finished and left the room. "What are you doing here?" He took a quick look out the window and saw the sky just starting to brighten. "It's early."

Al went back around the bed to his chair. "You didn't think I was going to leave you alone after what happened last night, did you?" Seeing some slight confusion in his friend's eyes he asked, "You do remember what happened last night, don't you?" Dr. Sloan may have told him that there should be no ill effects from the attack but seeing Sam's confusion he wasn't so sure.

"I remember." Sam fumbled for the controls to the bed and raised the head. "It's kind of hard to forget someone trying to smother you with a pillow. Why are you here, though? I asked them not to call you.

"I don't know what you asked or not last night," Al said as he got up to get the cup Sam was reaching for. Seeing that it was nearly empty, he filled it with water from pitcher. "I got a call at about 10:30 last night telling me what happened. There was no way I was going to leave you here alone after that." He waited until Sam drank his fill of the water before asking, "What do you remember from last night?"

"There wasn't much to remember." Sam pushed himself higher up in the bed, grimacing slightly and holding his side as he did. "I thought it was you coming back after I sent you home. I couldn't really see anything 'cause it was dark, though. Next thing I knew there was a pillow over my face and I couldn't breathe."

As he related the events of the previous night, Sam began to grow agitated. The heart monitor reflected his growing agitation as it started to beep faster. "Easy, Kid. Take it easy," Al murmured rubbing Sam's shoulder gently. "You don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to."

Sam picked up the cup and took another sip from it. "I'm going to have to eventually. I'm gonna have to tell the police, that detective…what's his name?"

Al provided the answer with a slight sneer of distaste. "Sloan. He's your doctor's son."

"Yeah, I remember. I'm going to have to tell Lt. Sloan what happened." Sam caught the look on Al's face. "You don't like him, do you?"

Al took the cup from Sam and put it down before taking his seat again. "That's not it, Kid. I just don't think he's done everything to protect you."

"I don't think what happened last night was his fault." Sam looked quizzical. "How did that guy find out I was here. I thought it was all being kept quiet."

"Someone around here spilled it to some news guy. It made the 6:00 news before Sloan could put a lid on it."

"I don't suppose they caught him last night, did they?" Sam tried to ask the question as calmly as possible but Al was able to hear the undercurrent of fear in it.

"No, Kid. They didn't." Al saw how Sam's face fell at the news that his attempted murderer was still free to try again. "Don't worry, though, we've got a plan to keep you safe."

"We?" Despite any fear he may have been feeling, Sam's natural curiosity was raised at the mention of a plan. "Who's 'we' and just what is this plan? I figure if it involves me, I should know what it is."

"The 'we' would be me, Dr. Sloan and Lt. Sloan." At the mention of the younger Sloan Sam raised his eyebrows surprised Al would be making any plans with the man considering his feelings. "He's in charge of this case so I've got no choice but to make peace with the man," Al explained when he saw Sam's reaction.

"Hey, I wasn't saying anything. So just what is this plan?"

"You're getting moved today, that's what the plan is."

"Moved? What do you mean moved? Am I getting transferred to another hospital?"

"Not exactly." Al paused trying to figure out the best way to explain to Sam what had been decided. In the past Sam hadn't always been receptive to others making decisions for him without consulting him. Al had a feeling this was going to be another one of those situations. "We're going to stay with Dr. Sloan for the next couple of days. Just 'til you're feeling better and they find this guy."

"Really?" The question was asked with deceptive mildness but Al could sense under that mildness that Sam was building to something much different. "I don't suppose it occurred to any of you to ask me what I might think? No, of course not. Why the hell would anyone think about doing that? It's so much easier to just make the decision for me." The more he talked the louder Sam's voice grew and Al started to make shushing motions. "Don't you dare tell me I can't say anything."

"I'm not telling you that you can't say anything," Al snapped. "I'm just trying to get you to lower your voice. You are in a hospital, you know, and it's barely past the crack of dawn. I'm sure the other patients would appreciate not being woken up by your shouting."

Sam's mouth snapped shut at the admonishment. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes silently counting until he'd regained control over his temper. "Ok, I'll keep my voice down. I'd just like to know why I wasn't consulted. Would it really have taken a lot for anyone to ask me my opinion?"

"No one asked you your opinion because until a little while ago you were zonked out from the sedative." He paused for a moment looking questioningly at Sam. He knew the kid tended to get bent out of shape if he thought his independence was being usurped but this was a little out there. "I don't get why you're so upset about this, Sam. It's not like any of us have a choice here. You need to be somewhere where you can be protected until they catch this nozzle and you still need medical care. This is the most logical solution to the problem without putting you or anyone else in more danger than necessary." He looked hard at Sam knowing there was more going on that his friend wasn't giving voice to. "What's really going on here, Sam? You're not this upset just because you're being moved. There's more to it so why don't you spit it out and we can deal with the real thing."

Sam opened his mouth to deny what Al had said but just as quickly closed it. "Someone tried to kill me last night, Al," he finally said softly. "Someone tried to just end my life and it could happen again." He paused. "'I don't want to die, Al." Another pause. "I thought I was going to last night. All I could think of was how Mom was going to have to bury another son."

Al pulled the railing to the bed down and moved from the chair to the edge of the mattress. "You're scared, Kid. You can say it, you know. Hell, this is scaring the crap outta me." When Sam tilted his head down so he wasn't meeting his eyes, Al tilted it back up with a gentle hand under his chin. "It's ok to be scared, Sam. You have every right. I just want to do whatever's necessary to make sure you stay safe and this whacko doesn't get a second crack at you. Actually, it'd be a third crack. As much as I might not like Sloan, he wants the same thing and his dad does too."

"I know," Sam agreed softly. "I just don't like being afraid like this."

"Nobody does but they're gonna get this guy, Sam. You can take that to the bank." Al waited until he received a small answering nod from Sam before he got up from the bed and snapped the rail back in place. "Look at it this way," he continued trying to be jolly and snap Sam out of the mood he was falling into. "At least you won't have to eat hospital food. I know how much you hate that." He noticed the grin on Sam's face and couldn't help but kid him. "Of course, there won't be any nurses."

"Aaall," Sam scolded. "The nurses aren't here for your pleasure, you know. They do a very important job."

Al shook his head at the predictable answer from his friend. "You're no fun, Sam, you know that. Sometimes you're just no fun."

Sam didn't bother to respond to the teasing. He'd heard it too often from his friend to rise to it anymore. "So when am I getting out of here and where's Dr. Sloan's place anyway?"

"The Doc said it was all going to depend on how you were doing when he checked you this morning and how those blood tests were. That's probably why they were in here so early." Al made himself comfortable in the chair again before answering Sam's second question. "I'm not really sure where Dr. Sloan lives. He didn't say. I'm guessing it's probably near the beach since they kept referring to as the beach house."

"Well, at least that sounds like it could be nice." Sam looked over to the window briefly and saw the sky had brightened considerably with the rising of the sun. "It might be nice to spend some time on the beach and soak up some sun."

"There you go, Kid," Al said with a gentle slap to Sam's shoulder. "That's what you gotta do. Keep a good outlook on it all. A lascivious smile broke out on his face. "And hey, maybe we'll be lucky and Dr. Livingston will spend a lot of time helping look after you."

"Dr. Livingston?" Sam questioned. "Do I even want to know?"

"Dr. Livingston would be the lovely lady who saved your bacon last night. She's the one who chased that nozzle out of here…and boy is she a looker."

Sam ignored Al's commentary about Dr. Livingston's looks. "I hope I get a chance to meet her then so I can thank her."

When Al noticed that Sam wasn't going to chastise him about commenting on Dr. Livingston's looks he turned serious. "She's supposed to be at the beach house when we get there today. She's gonna stay until Dr. Sloan's shift here ends in case you need anything so you'll get a chance to thank her." He noticed that there was still a haunted look in Sam's eyes. "It's gonna work out, Kid, you'll see."

"Yeah, I know it is." Despite his words, Sam didn't sound quite as sure. He tried to stifle a yawn but wasn't successful. "It's probably gonna be a couple of hours before they get those test results back. Do you mind if I catch a little more sleep. I don't know what they gave me last night but it sure packed a punch."

"No, go ahead, Kid. I'm gonna run back to the hotel and get our stuff. You're gonna need something to wear when you get out of here." He also figured he could get everything settled about the rental car. It was a hassle but it was also a bit of normalcy which gave Al the perspective that the world was still turning on it's axis just like it always did.

Al waited until Sam had lain back down, curling up as much as he could considering the collection of tubes and wires that were attached to him, and started to drift back to sleep. Before leaving the room to go back to the hotel, he pulled the blankets higher over Sam's shoulders and tucked them in. He let his hand linger on his shoulder for just a moment rubbing it lightly. "I'm not sure who it was who cursed you, Kid, but you sure do seem to live in interesting times." When there was no answer from Sam and he was sure that he was sleeping, Al slipped quietly from the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Sam was sitting up in the chair by the window when Al got back to the hospital a couple of hours later. He immediately noticed that the catheter and IV were both gone and Sam was no longer hooked up to the cardiac monitor. "I take it Dr. Sloan was here while I was gone."

Sam gave one last disheartened poke at the plate on the breakfast tray in front of him before answering. "Yeah, he came in about a half hour ago."

Al dropped the bag he carried on the bed and bent over to get a better look at what Sam was eating. "Doesn't look too bad, Kid and you lost your plumbing."

"That's the only thing that's good," Sam replied with a jaundiced look. "I'm not sure this stuff even passes as food." He gave the eggs on the plate a last poke and put the fork down. "Out of all the hospitals I've been in, and that's been too many, I think this has to be the worst food I've eaten."

Al couldn't hold back a chuckle at Sam's assessment of the food he'd been served. "You say that all the time, Kid. Considering some of the stuff I've seen you make to eat, I'm surprised you're as fussy as you are."

"I'm not fussy. I just don't like my eggs to have the same consistency as a super ball." Sam finished draining the glass of orange juice that had come with his meal then pointed at the bag Al had brought in. "Are those my clothes?"

When Al answered, he was a bit distracted. "Yeah, that's a change of clothes for you." He looked again at Sam's breakfast. "I don't get why they even gave you food already. You did get stabbed in the stomach yesterday."

Sam pushed the tray table away and slowly got to his feet. He walked over to the bed in a slightly hunched over position, his arm crooked around his abdomen to protect the injury to it. "I didn't get stabbed in the stomach," he corrected as he sat on the edge of the bed and started to pull out the clothes from the bag. "I got stabbed in the abdomen, not the stomach. If it hadn't nicked the peritoneum, they would have released me already. That's the only reason they did the laparotomy."

"I know that. Dr. Sloan explained that all to me and I think I understand most of it." Al held up a hand to stop the other man when it looked like he was going to offer his own explanation. "I understand enough of it to know that you're at a higher risk for an infection and not having your spleen doesn't help there. Although," he continued looking thoughtful, "the doc did say if you still had your spleen the knife probably would have hit it and you would have bled more so I guess that's kind of lucky."

"Oh yeah. Real lucky." The sarcasm in Sam's voice was unmistakable. "It's real lucky that that car hit me last year and ruptured my spleen and I had to have it removed. I can't believe how lucky I got."

"Aw, you know what I mean," Al defended. "Of course that's not lucky. I'm just saying this could have been worse."

Sam let out a slow breath and picked up the pile of clothes. "I know, Al. I guess I'm just a little grumpy this morning." He got up from the bed and started to walk towards the bathroom. "A knife in the gut tends to do that to me." He offered his friend a small apologetic smile. "I'm going to get dressed. Dr. Sloan said he'd be back soon with some paperwork and then I'd be out of here."

As the bathroom door started to swing shut behind Sam, Al called out, "Hey, has Lt. Sloan been by today?"

"No," Sam answered poking his head out the door. "Dr. Sloan said he should be here by the time the paperwork's ready though."

Al watched as the bathroom door swung shut all the way behind Sam this time. He went over to the bathroom and raised a hand to knock on the door to see if Sam needed any help but dropped it down before he did. The kid would just see it as hovering and they'd argued about that more than enough in the past. It was better just to wait for Sam to ask for his help.

It didn't take long before that request came. A few minutes later Sam came out of the bathroom. He was clothed in the jeans that Al had brought for him as well as a white t-shirt with a dark blue short-sleeved shirt pulled over it. The shirt was unbuttoned and untucked. Al noticed that on his feet Sam still had on the bright red socks with the non-skid soles that the hospital had supplied. In his hand, he carried the white athletic socks that Al had put in the bag with the rest of his clothes.

"You think you can help me get these on?" Sam asked holding out the socks to Al and sitting in the chair by the window. "I tried but it hurts too much to bend over. I couldn't even get this pair off."

Al took the socks and crouched down in front of Sam. "Sure thing, Kid." He pulled off the non-skid socks and slipped the white socks on in their place. He reached back to where Sam's sneakers were still on the bed and grabbed them to put on as well.

Sam watched as Al tied the sneakers. He wasn't at all happy to have his friend waiting on him again. "I thought after last year you wouldn't have to do this for me anymore."

Al pushed smoothly to his feet when he was finished and clapped Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Kid. I'll let you return the favor someday. Besides, in a few days you'll probably be able to bend over and do it yourself."

"Yeah, I guess." Sam blew out a breath. No matter what, he didn't like having to depend on Al or anyone else to do such basic things for him. "Besides, I don't have a choice right now unless I want to go barefoot."

Al was spared having to again reassure Sam that within a couple of days he'd be able to take care of the little details himself when the door the room pushed open. Dr. Sloan came in followed by his son. "I see you're all dressed and ready to go," Mark commented when he saw Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Al brought some clothes for me. I'm looking forward to getting out of here." Realizing how his words could be construed he quickly tacked on, "No offense."

"None taken," Mark assured with a laugh. "I don't think I've had many patients who haven't been eager to get out of here." He came over to where Sam was sitting, pulling another chair in the room close by, and handed Sam the papers he had in his hand. "I've arranged for your release to be listed as AMA that way if anyone is accessing your records, it'll help to explain why you've left so abruptly."

"I don't get why you need to do that," Al asked. "Why not just release him."

"We don't want this to look planned, Admiral," Steve explained. "If it looks like Dr. Beckett's just checked himself out that'll support the idea that this is all being done spontaneously."

"This soon after the injury Dr. Beckett sustained as well as the laparotomy and a patient would be released AMA," Mark further explained. "This way nothing will look out of place."

Sam started to flip through the papers scanning their contents before scribbling his name in the indicated spots. "Ok," he said handing them back to Mark. "I guess it's time to get this show on the road."

Steve handed Al a sheet of paper. "These are the directions to the beach house. You'll drive Dr. Beckettt…"

"Sam. My name is Sam. If I'm going to be staying with you and your dad, I figure we should be on a first name basis."

Steve nodded at Sam's request and corrected himself. "You'll drive Sam and I'll follow behind you. Do you need to get anything from the hotel you were in?"

"I went back and got everything we'd need this morning."

"You didn't tell them where you were going when you checked out, did you?"

"No, I didn't tell them where we were going." Al gave Steve a dirty look. The man was starting to grate on his nerves again. "I know better than to do that. We did discuss this all last night."

Sam knew from Al's tone of voice that he was gearing up for an argument. If they were going to be together for the duration, it was probably a good idea to nip that in the bud. "Aaaallll," he said in a soft but firm voice.

"What, Sam? Apparently this guy doesn't think I know what to do to keep you safe."

"That's not it at all," Steve said in a louder voice to override Al's.

Sam's nerves were already teetering on the brink and it wasn't going to take much more to push him over that edge. If he was going to be subjected to the two men arguing continuously, that would do it. "Stop it," he said loud enough to get the attention of all in the room. "The two of you need to just stop this. Al, the lieutenant is just doing his job." He turned to Steve, "Lieutenant Sloan, Al knows what he has to do. He's covered my butt more times than I want to think about." He looked between the two of them. "You both just need to make peace with each other. It's like watching two alpha dogs fighting to see who's going to lead the pack. Frankly, I don't think I have strength to watch it. If that's all you're going to do, you'll just have to figure out someplace else for me to hide out." His mouth twisted distastefully on the last few words.

The two men looked over at Sam and then at each other.

"You're right, Sam," Steve agreed, speaking first.

"Yeah, Kid. We'll have to try harder to get along." Al patted Sam lightly on the back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's ok, Al. I know you didn't." Sam looked over to Steve as he added, "neither of you did. Now, can we get out of here?"

"Since these are signed," Mark said holding up the papers, "You're free to go. You don't even have to wait for a wheelchair since you're leaving AMA." He smiled knowingly at Sam correctly guessing that was a procedure the younger man wasn't at all enamored with.

Without further discussion between the men, Sam was soon on his way down to the rental car and then onto the beach house.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Sam commented on the change in cars the moment he saw the new one. It was understandable considering they'd gone from a nicer town car to a smaller economy one.

Al explained the switch but didn't tell Sam that fixing everything had cost them for the impoundment and that he figured that since they'd be out in LA longer than initially expected, he'd just keep the economy that they had given him the night before and let the rental company pick up the car at the impound lot.

They followed Steve Sloan to the beach house. Looks like a nice place," Al commented as he pulled the rental car into the driveway behind Steve.

Sam looked at the house in question for a moment before answering. "Yeah, I guess so."

Al turned off the car and pulled the key from the ignition but didn't get out. Instead, he sat for moment watching Sam before asking, "What gives, Kid. You've been awfully quiet since we left the hospital."

There was no answer from Sam right away as he looked out the window at the house in front of him. It took a nudge on his arm from Al and the question repeated before he answered. "I don't know, Al," he said thoughtfully. "I've just got a feeling." He turned to look at his friend shrugging at a loss to explain himself. "I don't know what it is but I just feel like something's not right or something's going to go wrong or something. I don't know what it is." He sighed and unclasped the seat belt preparatory to getting out of the car. "It's probably just me." He looked warningly to his friend. "Don't you start getting it in your head that you have to start hovering just because I'm feeling a little out of sorts."

Al opened his mouth to deny what Sam was saying but just as quickly snapped it shut. The younger man already seemed to be a little strung out right now and Al wasn't about to add to it. The best thing was just to get him in the house. The ride from the hospital hadn't been a short one with the LA traffic and he'd noticed Sam wincing occasionally in discomfort. The shocks on the economy model weren't the best. Once he was inside and had a chance to lie down for a little while he'd probably be in a better frame of mind. "Ok, Kid, you got it. I'm not going to start hovering over you." He eyed the steps leading to the front door of the house. "Can I least give you a hand getting up those?"

Sam also eyed the stairs. "Yeah, I'm not sure I'll make it without a little help." He turned to look at Al, a small smile flitting around his lips. "I'm feelin' kind of beat right now. It's probably why I'm feeling off."

"That makes sense, Kid," Al agreed although he wasn't completely convinced. He got out of the car and went around to the passenger side to help Sam out. Steve met him there. "Our luggage is in the trunk," he said handing the keys over, "I'll help Sam into the house."

Steve took the keys from Al without saying a word. Had Al bothered to really look at him, he would have noticed how much he was straining not to say anything. His features softened as he got to the back of the car and turned to see Al helping Sam out. Chances were, without Al's support Sam would have toppled to the ground. "Guess, I'm the bellhop," he said softly as he pulled out the two suitcases.

As Sam and Al reached the top of the steps a woman came out of the door and waited for them. "Who's that?" Sam asked gesturing to the woman with his chin.

"Dr. Amanda Livingston," Al informed him. "She's the one who chased the guy off last night who tried to…you know."

"Kill me," Sam filled in for him. "You can say it. He tried to kill me last night." When they reached the top step he shook off Al's assistance. Walking up to Amanda he held his hand out to her. "Dr. Livingston, Al's told me what you did last night. I know it's not much but I wanted to say thank you."

Amanda took Sam's outstretched hand and smiled at him warmly. "I'm glad I was going by your room at the right time." She deftly slipped her arm around his waist and started to lead him into the house. "I've got a feeling we're going to be spending some time together so it's Amanda, not Dr. Livingston."

Al followed along behind marveling at how quickly Amanda seemed to take Sam in hand. He remembered she'd mentioned she had a child and wondered if it was a mother thing. He'd seen Thelma take Sam in hand the same way plenty of times in the past.

They stopped inside a decent sized bedroom that Al guessed was a guest room. Steve came in as well putting the two suitcases down by the door.

Sam gratefully sat down on the edge of the bed that had been turned down. He definitely wasn't feeling up to par just yet. If the opportunity to get off his feet hadn't presented itself, he was sure he just may have fallen over.

Amanda turned to the other two men in the room and started to shoo them out. "I want to check and see how Sam's doing so you two can just go in the kitchen and have some coffee or something." Seeing the reluctance on Al's face she added, "Don't worry, Admiral, he's in good hands." As the two men walked out of the room she followed after them stopping just outside the doorway. "Play nicely, you two," she called after them.

"You sure you shouldn't play referee?" Sam asked her as she came back in.

"If they know what's good for them, they'll behave." Amanda opened the black medical bag on the bedside table and pulled out a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope and began to exam Sam. After checking his vital signs, she had him lie back so she could also change the dressing on the wound. As she was taping it back in place, Steve came back in the room knocking softly on the door frame.

"I thought I told you to go to the kitchen," Amanda reminded him when she turned and saw him.

"I know but I just remembered Dad asked me to give you this." He held out a small bag to her. "He said it's the prescriptions for Sam."

Amanda took the bag and shooed him from the room again. She pulled the bottles out of the bag and lined them up on the bedside table, reading what each one was. Inside the bag was also a sheet of paper detailing when Sam had last received his meds. "Well, it looks like you're not due for the antibiotic for a couple of hours yet but you could have something for pain if you wanted it." She noticed how he was now sitting hunched over with his arm around his abdomen. "You look like you're in some pain right now."

"Yeah, I suppose I am," he agreed. "The ride sort of did it for me."

"Well, let me get some water and you can take one of these. That should help and then you can get changed into something more comfortable than your jeans." Amanda left the room briefly and came back with a glass of water. While Sam took the pill she gave him and drank the water, she opened the suitcase that he'd indicated was his. She pulled out a pair of drawstring pants and brought them over to him trading them for the now empty glass.

Sam seemed to be a little embarrassed about changing in front of her. Accepting that this was a very modest individual, Amanda told Sam she'd just turn around to give him some privacy. A moment later he indicated she could turn around. The jeans were on the floor and her patient now was more comfortably dressed.

Sam was grateful once he exchanged the jeans he'd been wearing for the drawstring pants. The waist of his jeans had been tight because of the dressing and had added to the discomfort he was in. He'd also taken off the shirt he'd put on but kept the t-shirt to cover his torso. Once he'd changed, he stretched out on the bed.

"Why don't you try to get some rest for a while," Amanda suggested as she pulled the sheet and blanket up over him.

Although it seemed like a good idea, Sam knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He'd taken a nap of a couple of hours at the hospital before leaving. Between that and the fact that he was still feeling keyed up he knew if he tried to rest now he'd just toss and turn and stare up at the ceiling. Instead, he pushed up to sit with his back to the headboard. "I don't think I can right now. If you wouldn't mind, there should be a binder in my suitcase. I'd like to go over the information in it."

Amanda retrieved the binder from the bottom of Sam's suitcase and brought it over to him. "You realize that pill's probably going to make you sleepy," she reminded him as she handing hi the binder.

"I know. I'll just read until it starts to kick in."

"Ok," Amanda agreed. "If you need anything, just call out." Once she received Sam's answering nod she left the room and joined Steve and Al in the kitchen. The two men were sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table. Each had a cup of coffee and she was pleased to see that they hadn't dismembered each other while left alone.

As soon as she walked in the room, Al jumped up from his seat but she caught him before he could make it out of the room. "He's fine, Admiral. He was reading when I left him and he's probably going to be asleep soon since he just took a pain pill." She could see that Al looked like he was going to force the issue to go in the room with Sam. "Sit," she ordered him pointing to the chair he'd been occupying.

After a moment's hesitation, Al followed the order and sat back down. "I just want to make sure he's ok," he grumbled as he picked up the cup of coffee.

"I know that but you just need to trust me that he is."

Amanda managed to keep Al at the table and out of Sam's room for another 45 minutes. At the end of that time he was so antsy she thought it would do more harm than good to keep him there so she finally let him go back to Sam's room.

He tapped softly on the door before pushing it open and walking in. As Amanda had predicted, Sam was asleep. The binder he'd been reading was propped open on his chest and he was still partially sitting up with the pillows behind him.

Al took binder and set it on the bedside table then maneuvered Sam's lax body so that he was lying down with one of the pillows under his head. Although the room was comfortable temperature-wise, he still pulled the covers over the sleeping man so he wouldn't get chilled while he slept. He looked at the sleeping face of his friend a moment before turning away to pull the curtain over the window and then leave the room. Just before he stepped through the doorway he turned back to look at Sam. "We're gonna keep you safe, Kid," he assured the sleeping man.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The grumbling in his stomach eventually pulled Sam from sleep. Looking around, he found a clock on the nightstand by the bed and saw that it was already after 1:00. Considering he'd barely eaten the breakfast he'd been served at the hospital, it was no wonder he was hungry.

Before he could contemplate getting out of bed to find something to eat, there was a soft knocking at the door. "Come in," he called out.

The door pushed open and Steve came into the room. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you, Sam, but the sketch artist from the station is here."

"It's all right," Sam replied pushing up to sit. "I was awake anyway."

"If you're feeling up to it, I can bring her back here and we can get to work on the sketch."

Sam pushed the covers back and moved gingerly to throw his legs over the side of the bed. "I can go in the other room." He started to walk to where Steve was standing just inside the door. "I was just going to get up anyway. I was feeling a little hungry."

As Sam neared him, Steve took his arm lending some support. Sam was still walking hunched over and didn't look completely steady on his feet. "You slept through lunch but I can fix you a sandwich or something."

"That'll be good." Sam shook off the supporting hand and did his best to stand up as straight as he could. He indicated that Steve should lead the way and followed after him. He gratefully took a seat at the table where the sketch artist was.

"Sam, this is Marybeth. She's gonna work with you on the sketch."

Sam extended his hand to the woman. "Nice to meet you Marybeth." From where he was sitting, he could see Al sitting on the couch staring at him. He nodded to his friend to indicate that he was ok.

While Sam worked with Marybeth putting a sketch of the man who'd attacked him together, Steve started to fix a lunch for him. He brought the sandwich over just as they finished up. "This him?" he asked taking the sketch pad from Marybeth and looking at the face there.

"Yeah, that's him," Sam responded. He tried to quell a small shudder going through his body. "I don't think I'll forget what he looks like."

Al got up and walked over to where Sam and the artist were sitting. He looked down at the sketch. "Yeah, that looks like the guy, at least from what I saw of him."

"All right," Steve said, "We'll get copies of this out. Hopefully this is going to be the break we need to get this guy."

Amanda, who'd been sitting on the couch with Al also came over. She took the sketch pad from Steve so she could better see it. "Looks like a real nice guy," she commented, her voice indicating what she really thought, then handed it back.

Al nodded at her assessment. "Yeah. Not. The only thing I'm worried about is if this guy sees the sketch, and he probably will, he's going to be even more motivated to get at Sam."

"Well why don't we just hide it, then," Steve said with exaggerated sarcasm. "After all, we wouldn't want to do anything that might get this guy caught, would we?"

Al took in a calming breath and let it out remembering Sam's earlier request that they try to get along. "Listen, Steve, I know that you have to release this to catch this nozzle. I'm just saying, the guy's already shown what he's capable of."

"I know what he's capable of," Steve interrupted. "I saw what he was capable of before your friend ran into him." He had run out of patience with Al's over protectiveness and at that moment he'd forgotten about Sam's request for peace.

"Stop it," Sam said firmly before Al could say anything in return. "The two of you just stop it. This is nuts and I'm getting tired of it. If you're going to argue, go do it somewhere else or I'm leaving. I told you I can't put up with the two of you doing this constantly." He angled his body so he could look at Al. "He's only doing his job, Al. I told you, you can't wrap me in bubble wrap."

"Sam..." Al started.

"Don't 'Sam' me. I mean it." He looked at both men taking them both in. "The two of you need to stop this. I thought we'd already decided you needed some kind of truce."

Amanda injected herself in between as well. "Your concern is admirable, Al, but we're taking all the precautions to keep Sam safe. This house, for instance. Even if the perp does want to get at Sam, he'd have to know where he is first and we're not going to be broadcasting that. Add to that the 24 hour protection we're providing and it's just not likely that anything will happen."

Al pulled in his lips a bit and raised his hands. "Ok. Ok. Fine. I won't say another word." His body language was tight. He had been trying to keep the peace but had gotten jumped on by everyone. He figured a walk outside would likely help him regain the calm that was difficult to maintain under the circumstances. "I'm going to just go take a walk out on the beach, ok?"

Seeing that there seemed be a lull in the dispute, Marybeth felt it might be a good time to take her leave. "If you don't need anything else, Lt. Sloan, I'll be leaving now."

"Al, wait." Sam painfully pushed up from the chair to chase after Al. He gave a quick backwards glance when he heard Marybeth and thanked her for her time. He caught up to Al at the sliding doors leading out to the deck and the beach. "Just wait," he said painfully. He wrapped an arm around his mid-section and leaned over slightly.

Al stopped at the door and turned to look at Sam, grimacing at the pain he figured Sam was in. "Ahhh, Sammy, don't. I'll be ok. Really. I just need to walk some of this off. I'm trying to tone it down but it's not easy when I know there's someone out there ready to take you out."

"You can't go out there by yourself," Sam said straightening up as much as he could. The more he could convince Al that he was going to be ok – that he was ok – the less likely it was that he'd continue to hover so close. "It's too dangerous."

Al blinked at the note of worry in Sam's voice. "Sam, he's not out to get me, he's out to get you. I'll be fine. Besides, with a pair of sunglasses on, I'll fit right in with the beach crowd. Nothing's going to happen, ok?"

"No," Sam said with a quick shake of his head. "You saw him too even if it was just a glimpse. He could be looking for you."

Al licked his lips as he considered how to answer his friend. He knew it was in everyone's best interest that he seek a little time alone. He decided to address this point blank. "Sam, what do you want me to do? Amanda and Steve have told me you'll be fine with them. I know they know their jobs and even with my reservations, I'm willing to trust they'll do just that. But I really just need some time to walk and think, you know?"

Sam's gut instinct was to argue against Al going out. He didn't, though. He knew what it was like to need to be by yourself for a while and figure things out. He'd needed to do the same thing plenty of times in the past and every time, Al had understood and given him that time he needed. "Ok," he agreed softly. "Just don't go far, huh? Stay close. We don't know where this guy is."

He gave Sam a soft grin. "No. I won't go far. Just down to the ocean. It's always had a calming effect on me." He chuckled. "Good thing I went into the Navy, huh."

"I guess so." Sam tried to muster up a grin of his own but failed. "This has turned into one hell of a trip, huh?"

"Yeah," Al agreed ruefully, and then added a little sadder. "You're going to start thinking I'm your unlucky charm."

"Never," Sam responded quickly and sincerely. "I told you before, you're not a curse and you're not an unlucky charm. Sometimes things happen. It's no one's fault." This time he was able to muster up a small, crooked smile. "Go on and take your walk. Maybe if you get some air the two of you'll be less likely to try to out alpha male each other."

"Maybe," Al agreed before turning and walking down the stairs of the deck. He had his hands in his pockets as he aimed himself toward the Pacific.

Sam stood at the door watching as Al made his way to the edge of the ocean. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned to see Amanda standing there. "He'll be ok," she assured him. "C'mon back and eat your lunch."

Sam gave one last look at Al then complied with her request, going over to the table where the sandwich Steve had made was.

Steve was coming back to the room after seeing Marybeth out. "Where's the Admiral," he asked.

"Taking a walk on the beach," Amanda explained. She went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of milk and brought it over to Sam. "Stop worrying," she told him as she put the cup down near the plate.

"A walk on the beach," Steve said annoyed. "Doesn't he understand what a safe house is?"

"I thought I was the prisoner here, not him," Sam said annoyed. "Maybe if the two of you would stop sniping at each other he wouldn't have had to take a walk."

"Well, your friend is rather over the top. It would be easier not to have to deal with another person in this situation."

"Well, gee, I'm so sorry Al happened to be along. Next time I walk into a robbery, I'll make sure I'm by myself. Will that work for you?" Unconsciously, Sam's voice had grown louder and louder.

"You don't have to get upset, Sam. I understand that isn't what we have here. I'm simply saying that the more variables the more difficult it is to keep things under control."

"I don't have to get upset?" Sam stood up quickly so he was eye to eye with Steve. "You want to tell me when I do get to get upset. That's all anyone's telling me. 'Don't get upset.' 'Try to stay calm.' I'm sick of it. I'm the one who had a knife stuck in me. I'm the one this nutjob tried to smother with a pillow. Me! Not you, and not Al and not even you!" he shouted turning to take in Amanda. "Me! And if I want to get upset I'm damned well going to so don't tell me not to!"

Amanda put a restraining hand on Sam's upper arm trying to calm him down without saying the words.

Steve looked over to Amanda, asking her with his eyes how he should handle the man in front of him. Since his father was a doctor, he'd been around the medical community more than most detectives and as such understood that in case of a patient, he needed their guidance.

None of the three were paying attention to what was going on in the rest of the house and missed the front door open but they heard the voice of Mark call out, "What's going on here. I could hear yelling outside."

Steve called out. "Um. Dad. We're in here. Dr. Beck...um...Sam was just..." He stopped, afraid that anything he said would set the man off again.

Mark approached where the three were. It didn't take much to sense the tension in the air. He noticed the absence of Al. "Where's the admiral?" he asked wondering if that had anything to do with the tension. The way his son and the admiral had been getting along - or, rather, not getting along - he wouldn't be surprised.

"Outside walking," Sam answered shortly. He didn't break eye contact with Steve. "He needed to clear his head."

Amanda nodded. "He should be back soon."

Steve licked at his lips. "I didn't know he was leaving so I was concerned when I came back in and found him gone."

Amanda looked to Steve, "He did say he was going for a walk. Right before Marybeth said she was leaving."

Sam snorted at Steve's declaration of concern. "I'd think you'd be happy to come back and find out he's not here."

Steve turned to Sam. "That's not fair, Sam. Sure, I'd rather not have to deal with another person in this situation but I understand that's simply not reality."

Mark tried to wave off everyone talking at once. "I thought the two of you had settled things," he said directing the words at his son. What happened here and why was everyone yelling?"

Steve turned back to his father. "Sam worked with a police artist. We've got a good picture we think may lead to arresting the perp. The Admiral was concerned that putting it out in the public would make it even more unsafe for Sam." He paused, "But that's what we need to do so we can get the guy and protect not only Sam but others as well. This guy's already killed eight people. I don't think he plans to stop."

"So the two of you decided to have a go at each other again." He looked at Sam with concern seeing the toll the situation was taking on the man. As much as he knew there had to be some kind of peace between the admiral and his son, he also knew that Sam's wellbeing had to come first. "Amanda, could you please see if you can find the admiral and ask him to come in." He switched his attention to Sam. "I'd like to check that wound if you don't mind. You're supposed to be taking it easy," he reminded.

"It's doesn't need to be checked," Sam responded stubbornly. "Amanda checked it when we got here."

Amanda didn't want to get in between Mark and Sam but simply said, "It doesn't hurt to make sure things are still ok. You've been moving around a bit more than needed." She quickly added before Sam could respond to that, "I'll go find Al. You don't know which direction he went, do you?"

"Towards the ocean," Sam replied before sighing. "Where do you want to check me?" he asked Mark giving in to the older man's request.

Amanda smiled again and went out to find the man Steve evidently considered AWOL.

Steve took the time Sam and his father were doing the exam to call the station. He excused himself and went downstairs to his apartment.

Mark suggested that he examine Sam on the couch. After getting Sam to lie down, he pulled up the t-shirt and carefully peeled the tape off the dressing, pulling it back to reveal the wound on Sam's abdomen. "It looks good. Any unusual pain?"

"No," Sam answered staring up at the ceiling. "It's sore but nothing out of the ordinary. I'd let someone know if there was."

"I know you would, Sam, but you've been a little distracted, am I right?" He figured that was an understatement. He knew that his son was right. People like the man they were after would continue killing until they were caught. The Admiral was right too, though; Sam would be in more danger after the pictures went out to the media.

"Not enough that I wouldn't notice." Once Mark had taped the dressing back in place and pulled his t-shirt down, Sam swung his legs carefully over the side of the couch, grimacing slightly as he sat up. "I just wish they'd stop fighting. It's driving me nuts. Steve's right. Al does have to let up and stop trying to protect me so much but he doesn't understand. Al's got a right to worry. Things tend to go sideways a lot and he's the one who's been there to help me pick up the pieces. He knows how wrong things can go."

"You want to tell me about those...um...sideways...times?" This sounded like it might be important.

"Which one do you want to hear about," Sam asked with a humorless chuckle. "Should I start with the oldest or the most recent?"

"Why don't you tell me the way you feel most comfortable with?" Mark suggested.

"Because, I don't think any of us have that much time." Sam shrugged. "It's not really important anyway. It's just that Al knows things don't always go easy so it's hard for him to let go."

Mark nodded. "Does any of this have to do with the scars? I know you lost your spleen. It's obvious you've had work on your shoulder and your leg as well."

"Scars. Yeah, I've got a few them." Sighing, Sam began to enumerate some of the injuries he'd sustained. "In chronological order, I dislocated my shoulder, got a concussion, and ended up losing half my left kidney when our plane crashed. A few months after that, they did a Bankart's repair on my shoulder and I ended up with a post-op infection. That was back in '87. A couple of years after that I had an appendicitis attack while we were on a plane and few months after that, I got mugged at an ATM. I've had bronchitis, been hit by a car - that's where I lost my spleen – and had pneumonia while I was in the hospital after the car hit me. Over Christmas Al and I went to Colorado for a ski trip drove off the side of a road in a blizzard and had to take shelter in an abandoned cabin. I ended up with a strep infection, one of many, and the anti-biotic they put me on had me feeling like I was going crazy. Most recently, they took my tonsils out and I didn't follow the post-op regimen so I started bleeding and they had to take me back into surgery except since I hadn't fasted, I ended up aspirating which led to chemical pneumonitis. Oh yeah," he said with a laugh, "did I mention that I died once too? That was after the plane crash."

Mark whistled softly when Sam finished. He hadn't expected quite so much. Sam's admission that he hadn't followed the post-op regimen after his tonsillectomy also gave him cause for concern that the young man might not be so careful this time as well. "Quite a litany," he agreed. "And Al's been by your side during all that?"

"He has. Most of the time it just didn't make sense for Mom to fly from Hawaii to be with me. It would be nuts for her to fly all that way just because I had the flu or something. Sometimes, she just couldn't get away." He remembered how they'd been separated while he was in Washington, DC recovering from the car accident while she was in Hawaii after suffering a heart attack. "A few times, I just didn't want her to know so she wouldn't worry like when I got mugged.. Al's been right there every single time, though."

Mark thought again how he'd feel if he'd been in Al's shoes dealing with Steve facing such challenges. "So Al's got a reason to be as paranoid as he's been acting." He considered that. "Of course, just because you've have a rather long string of unfortunate events doesn't mean this situation will turn out..." He caught himself, "...that way or at least any worse than what's already happened."

"You're probably right," Sam agreed. "And I'm sure deep down Al knows that. It's just he's been conditioned to expect the worst the last few years. I get so irritated with him sometimes because he starts to hover but I know he's only doing it because he cares. I feel like such a heel when I push him away and make him stop 'cause I know no matter what, the next time I need him he's going to be right there."

Steve came back upstairs and into the room. He gave a glance over to the two men and saw Sam sitting up. He figured it wouldn't be too intrusive to give them the latest. "We'll be on the 5 o'clock news on every channel," he said, knowing both men would know what he was talking about.

Sam nodded to indicate he'd heard Steve but continued his conversation with Mark. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sloan. I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

"Maybe because having something happen again is weighing on you?"

"That sounds like something Verbena would say." Seeing the look of confusion on Mark's face, Sam clarified, "She's the staff psychiatrist on the project I'm head of. She's been helping me work through some stuff." He glanced over to the glass doors leading out to the deck. "I wonder where Al is. Knowing him, he's probably trying to get Amanda to run away with him," he said with a lopsided grin.

Mark chuckled at how sure Sam sounded of Al's motives. "I'm sure the two of them are just fine. Now how 'bout if you lay back down and I can finish checking you over." He opened his medical bag and took out a stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and thermometer. Once Sam was again stretched out on the couch, he continued with his examination. From what Sam had said, he knew they'd have to be extra vigilant to make sure there were no complications from the injury and he wasn't about to take any chances.

Steve, seeing the exam starting up again went out on the rear deck. He could see Amanda and Al in the distance walking back and talking. It gave him pause.

He considered what was happening. This was the first real lead in the case since it had started, a few weeks before. He wondered if his desire to take the killer off the street was pushing him to be more reckless about the safety of the witness. He shook his head and said softly out loud, "No. I'm doing it by the book. Sam will be fine no matter what the Admiral thinks."

Still, his father's words were ringing in his head. Al was obviously close to the younger man. His dad had told him that he needed to understand that and Sam had asked them not to fight. He took a deep breath and made a decision to do better as this situation played out. Amanda and Al were closer to the house now. He turned and walked back inside. "They'll be here in a minute."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Al had threaded his way down to the beach. He could have spent time sitting back and watching the beautiful California girls who were soaking in the May sunshine but he'd been honest with Sam. He needed to expend some energy and just think.

Finding a grouping of rocks he went to sit on one, turning his gaze out to sea. Watching the surf coming in and breaking at the rocks a little further out gave him something to focus on as it provided the white noise that had lulled him to sleep anytime he'd been stationed somewhere close to the beach. It was a calm, clean sound. He needed that now to help sort out his thoughts.

Al had found long ago that the sea was a perfect metaphor for the way he felt. Whether showing eerie calm, playful waves, or terrifying power the ocean was always consistent. It was something you could count on. That meant something to Al.

He turned his head back to look back at the house where Sam was being protected from the nutcase he'd literally walked into. He knew that this was the best idea to protect him but knowing that the picture that Sam had provided of the man who'd tried to kill him was going to be broadcast into the city of Angels gave him a bad feeling. He knew it was just his overprotective streak kicking in but it was there and he had to deal with it.

Al turned back to the ocean, reaching down beside him and finding a cache of pebbles. He picked one up and threw it out to the vast body of water. He chuckled humourlessly. It seemed that Sam had a gift for intersecting with people's lives at the most at the most significant times. Hell, that's how they'd met; only he'd been the nutcase, trying to use a hammer to teach a vending machine a lesson. That time, though, things were much different. Then Sam's collision with another life had been a lifeline thrown out by…

No. There wasn't a God out there to do anything like that. Al had been fooled when he was younger and now no one would convince him otherwise. Fate was what it was then. Fate that Sam had grabbed the hammer out of his hand and had then expertly blocked the few blows he'd tried to land on the man whose actions ultimately saved his career. He paused mentally again. Who was he kidding? Sam had saved his life. Put his own future on the line to see that Al actually had a future worth living.

Now though…fate had decided to once again play a cruel trick on the kid. There was a psycho out there that would kill his friend with as little thought as swatting a fly. It wasn't fair. Sam had been through enough. Al knew that in spades. The kid deserved a break but like had been the case so many times in the past few years; it didn't look like he was going to get one. That scared Al. The thought that yet another person he cared about would be taken from him, well…

Throwing another pebble into the foam in front of him, he pushed that thought away. He couldn't think that way. Not if he wanted to help Sam. Instead, he considered the people they'd been pushed to rely on. Dr. Sloan was a good guy and Al knew he was doing everything he could to make things work out. He was a man that Al could respect. A man who walked with a quiet power and could be trusted. His gut told him he wasn't just a doctor but a true healer.

His thoughts then turned to the man's son, Steve. Al was sure he truly believed that putting Sam at risk was in the best interest of the city he served. He just wondered if fate would allow the resolution of the crazy situation to be a win for both of them. If they caught the killer at the cost of losing Sam, then that was a cost just too high for Al Calavicci. That just couldn't happen and wouldn't if Al had his say.

Still, Sam had a point. He knew that the way he was acting was putting Sam into a difficult spot. The kid had made it clear. He wanted to help. He wanted Steve to catch the bastard that had killed and would kill again. It was Sam's life and Al had no right to try to stop him from living it the way he wanted to. That didn't mean he wasn't going to be there every step of the way.

Al threw in another pebble. As he did, he heard the sound of someone coming towards him. They had to be close as their footsteps were loud enough to be heard with the sound of the breaking waves competing. As he turned, he thought of Sam's warning to him. Well, if the nozzle had found him, let him come. He was ready and he'd make sure that he couldn't hurt his best friend. Instead he saw it was the third person that was in this situation along with them. The fact she was here now sent up red flags, "Is something wrong?" He asked jumping up. "Is Sam ok?"

"Nothing's wrong. Sam's a little upset but he's fine otherwise," Amanda soothed. It was easy for anyone to see how much the younger man meant to Al and how strong his drive was to keep him safe – maybe at all costs. "Mark came home a little while ago and he asked me to come out here and get you."

Al nodded shortly and followed Amanda across the sand on their way back to the beach house. "Sam's not still upset because I came out here, is he?"

"No. Let's just say he didn't see eye to eye with Steve and let him know about it. All this time I thought you were the one with temper but when he got going…boy can he get loud."

Al grinned for a moment knowing how Sam could get when his dander was up. As much as he and Steve didn't see eye to eye, he didn't envy the man a run-in with Sam's temper. "Sam's a pretty quiet guy unless you get him riled up. You know what they say about the quiet ones."

"I guess so," Amanda agreed. She put her hand on Al's arm stopping him and turned to face him. "I know you think Steve's putting Sam intentionally at risk and doesn't care how this all affects him but I want you to know you're wrong. Steve's a good guy. I've never known him to put anyone in danger's way just to solve a case."

Al eyed the woman in front of him and chewed the inside of his cheek. Deep down, he knew she was likely correct in her assessment of Steve Sloan. Likely, he was as fixated on doing his job as well as he could just as Sam could get fixated on what he was doing. It didn't necessarily mean either was wrong. "You're probably right," he conceded. "But I'm seeing it a whole lot different since I'm the one who's close to Sam. You don't know what that kid's been through. He doesn't need anything else heaped on."

There was something about the look and Al's eyes and the emotion in his voice. She'd seen that same look before looking in a mirror and had heard the same emotion in her own voice. "I have a son, CJ. He was born in the back of Dr. Travis' car." She chuckled at the memory of the circumstances surrounded CJ's birth and how Jessee had been so nervous as he put theories into action for the first time. "When Jessee handed him to me, I made a vow that I wouldn't let anything hurt him – ever. I tried to spare him from every little bump that came his way then one day Mark pointed out that he had to fall a few times or he'd never learn to walk" The two started walking agin toward the house. "I realized I couldn't hang on to him and protect him from everything or he'd never learn to be independent of me. I had to learn, too, that sometimes I had to let other people help me raise him and protect him. It didn't mean I wasn't doing my job as his mother – just that I was letting him grow up."

"We're not talking about little bumps, Amanda. That I wouldn't have a problem with." He paused. "How many times have you sat by your little boy's hospital bed wondering if he was going to pull through and if he did, what he'd be like when he woke up?" He looked down. "I'm sure you never had to watch your son die. That happened to Sam once."

Amanda didn't know what to say. She'd never had to experience that kind of pain or that kind of fear but she could see how it could motivate Al. "Sounds like the two of you have been through a lot and I can understand that's going to make you want to protect him that much more but..." She hesitated unsure if she should continue. She knew the man she was walking with for barely a day and knew that that definitely didn't give her a right to tell him how he should react or what he should do. Still, she could see how his worry was pulling at both him and Sam. "Do you want him to be dependent on you or do you want him to be able to stand on his own?"

Al thought about what she said before answering differently than what she might expect. "Sam Beckett is the smartest, kindest, most considerate man I've ever met. He's found a way to do things that most of us wouldn't even think about and he has a stubborn independent streak a mile long." She started to say something and he stopped her, "But he's also exactly the type the world would like to eat alive and his kind heart is the vulnerable part of his armor. It's because he truly is one of the good guys that I want to make sure that nothing bad happens to him. Can you understand that?" he asked, hoping she could see that his actions weren't meant to hold Sam back but to help him keep going.

"Yeah, but if he's the way you describe him, doesn't that mean you have to trust him?"

"I do trust him. It's the other people in the world I'm not so sure about," Al responded somewhat cynically.

Amanda couldn't argue that view. She'd seen far too much of how people could be cruel to each other and put so little worth on another's life. "It's hard knowing there are people out there who'll hurt him but...unless you're going to lock him in a bubble somewhere, can you really keep everything bad in the world from him? Would you really want to do that to him?"

"Of course not," Al stated firmly. "Besides, he'd never let me. You said that Sam gave Steve the what-for. I can tell you, he'll do the same to me...and has," he said with a meaningful glance before finishing his thought, "...if he feels I'm fencing him in.

"I don't envy you," Amanda said with a chuckle. They started walking again. "I thought he was going to take Steve's head of, literally, for a second. He's got some temper."

"Yeah. That's an understatement," he mused quietly. Continuing stronger he told her, "As I say, it's takes a lot to get Sam to show it, but when he's upset, it's like Mt. Vesuvius."

"Well, I wouldn't want to be Pompeii." They'd reached beach house and climbed the stairs to the deck. Before going in, Amanda tried one last time to bring some peace to the situation. "Just give Steve a chance...give us a chance. We're all going to do whatever we have to to make sure Sam's safe and this guy is caught."

Al looked at her squarely. "I'm going to do my best. I know that Sam wants to cooperate with catching this nozzle and I don't want to make that difficult for him. And even if you don't realize it, I am trusting you all, otherwise I would have raised holy hell even if that did piss Sam off. But, if I think for one minute that this killer is going to succeed where he failed before..." He trailed of not wanting to put into words just how far he'd go.

Amanda didn't push Al for details but again tried to make her argument for peace. "Well I'm sure that Steve feels the same way. You just need to let him do his job and Sam will be ok."

"Yeah," Al said. "If he just wasn't so..." He searched his mind for the right word.

"So much like you?" Amanda supplied helpfully. "If he wasn't so stubborn or set on doing what he thinks is right then you'd be able to get along? If that were the case, he wouldn't be as good at his job as he is and I've got a feeling if you were any different, you wouldn't be as good a friend to Sam."

Al chuckled. "You're probably right, Amanda."

"I know I am," she said with a chuckle in return. "Let's get in before they start thinking we've run off somewhere together." She pulled open the sliding door and stepped through. "We're back," she called out breezily noticing that Mark was still examining Sam on the couch.

Al followed her in but didn't have the same reaction to Mark's attentions. "I thought you said that Sam was ok," he said to Amanda, a sound in his voice that showed he felt he might have been lied to. He moved quickly over to the two. "What's wrong? Did he start bleeding again or something? It's not an infection is it?"

Mark glanced up from checking Sam's blood pressure. "Just a routine exam," he assured Al. "You wouldn't want anything to be missed, would you?"

Sam, unable to talk because of the thermometer in his mouth, rolled his eyes at Al's reaction.

His anxiety level coming down quickly, he gave Mark a weak grin. "Oh." Seeing Sam's eyes, he finished with, "Well, it's like Pavlov's dog, you know? I see you with a doctor taking care of you, I get a little nervous."

Mark took the thermometer from his mouth at that moment. "Down, boy," Sam managed now that his mouth was free.

"Funny, Sam." Al said, taking his chastisement in stride. Here he'd told Amanda that he wasn't going to make it difficult for Sam and the first thing he did was overreact.

"Well, there really isn't that much to worry about," Mark assured Al. He was amused by the interplay between the two men. "His temp's up a little but that's to be expected. I want you," he continued shifting his attention to Sam, "to stay put for the rest of the day and rest. Getting into shouting matches is not going to do you any favors."

Al thought about seconding Mark's pronouncement but figured Sam wouldn't approve very much. "So, maybe a movie or something? To keep us occupied?" he asked instead.

"I'd settle for that sandwich," Sam suggested. He hadn't eaten it before the altercation between Steve and Al and he was still hungry. "And maybe I can read a little afterwards."

"I put some saran wrap on it. Let me get it for you," said Amanda.

"That sounds like a good idea," Mark agreed. "Admiral, can you get Sam's sandwich for him and Amanda, can you get him some Tylenol? Steve, why don't you get Sam a pillow and blanket so he can be more comfortable here." Having given everyone their orders, he looked at them expectantly waiting for them to carry them out.

"Um, yeah, Dad," Steve answered, going into Sam's room to get the items. Al too went into the kitchen to get the sandwich. Amanda, guessing that Mark's requests were to get the two men aligned in their actions to help Sam, went to get the get the painkiller instead of restating her ability to retrieve the sandwich.

"What's your secret Doctor Sloan," Sam asked in awe as he saw everyone scurrying off to do as they'd be asked. "Whatever it is, I'd love to know what it is if it can make Al follow orders that fast."

"Age and experience," Mark answered with a light laugh.

"Um, Mark?" Amanda said, carrying a white plastic bottle with a red and white label, "I think you need more Tylenol. This bottle's out."

Steve walked back into the room about the same time carrying the requested bedding. "Oh, yeah. I meant to get some more, Dad."

"Ok. Call the hospital and see if you can catch Jesse and ask him to bring some with him. He's coming over for dinner tonight."

Amanda nodded. "Ok." She went to the phone to make the call.

Al had added some chips to the plate and had brought the glass of milk to boot having seen both the sandwich and glass with saran wrap. He brought them into the room and handed them to Sam. "Here you go, kid."

"Thanks, Al," Sam said accepting the plate. He took a bite from the sandwich then asked curiously, "Who's Jesse?" as Amanda moved to the phone. Something about the name was tugging at his memory but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Al spoke up. "That's what I asked, Sam. He's the doctor that helped you when you got the bad blood."

Sam's forehead creased as he remembered. "The young guy?"

"That's him," Mark agreed. "He knows about your situation and he's going to be helping us out."

Amanda came back to the group. "He sure will, Tylenol's on the way."

"Ok," Mark said in acknowledgment. Giving Sam a look that brooked no argument he told him, "Until then, I want you to just stay put and rest." He looked around the room taking in Al and his son. "And I don't want nothing else and no one else upsetting Sam right now." He got up from the coffee table he'd been sitting on and Al moved to take his place.

Al had noticed that Sam was eating better than he had in the hospital. "Tastes pretty good, huh?"

"It didn't come off a tray at a hospital," Sam said around a bite of the sandwich. "That makes it gourmet." He took a long swallow from the glass of milk washing down the sandwich and draining it in nearly one gulp.

"I really don't get what you don't like about hospital food, Sam. It's not that bad."

"And I don't get how someone who's supposed to be such a good cook can think that what they serve in a hospital should even qualify as food." Realizing he'd just insulted the place of employment of his host, Sam looked over to Mark and apologized.

"No need to apologize," Mark said with a laugh. "Even I won't touch the stuff at Community General."

Steve spoke up. "Oh, come on. Al's right. Hospital food isn't that bad."

"That's because you've got a cast iron stomach and no taste buds," Amanda pointed out as she slapped Steve lightly in the stomach. "The rest of us know what's good for us."

Al looked over to Steve. "Huh."

"What?" Steve asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Sam looked back and forth between the two men. "Um, maybe I'm getting delirious but, did you two just agree on something?"

Al laughed, "No, Sam. You're not delirious but who would have thought we'd agree on something as mundane as hospital food."

Steve smiled a sly grin. "Well, it's a start."

"If I knew that's all it would take to get the two of you to stop your sniping, I'd have brought home some takeout from the hospital for both of you."

Everyone chuckled at the thought. With the tension lessened, the rest of the day went by without incident.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The afternoon passed in relative peace for the four men. Amanda had left to pick CJ up from daycare. Despite all four trying to convince her to come back with him for dinner, she declined saying that since he was teething, he might be a little too cranky.

Just before 6:00 there was a knock at the door. Steve went to answer it saying until the perpetrator was caught, he didn't want Sam or Al going to the door. After checking who was outside, he holstered his gun and pulled the door open to Jesse Travis.

"You planning on using that thing?" Jesse asked as he came in. He'd caught Steve putting the gun away.

"Can't be too careful," Steve responded. He poked his head out the door checking to see if anyone else was around.

Jesse also leaned back out the door and pointed to a vehicle with two occupants a short way up the road. "I don't think you have to worry with your two guard dogs out there."

Steve shrugged. "First line of defense..." He nodded to the bag. "That the Tylenol?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah." Jesse followed Steve into the main room of the house. "Hey what's so important about it anyway?"

Steve looked sheepish. "Well, I sort of used up the last of them and then didn't replace the bottle. Dad wanted some for Sam."

"Oh, ok." Jesse shrugged off the explanation. He stopped by the couch that Sam was laying on napping. "Looks like he's had a hard day," he said quietly in deference to the sleeping man.

Mark looked up from the book he was reading. "Hello, Jesse." He looked over to the sleeping man as well. "Yes. He definitely needs the rest."

Steve spoke up. "Jesse brought the Tylenol, Dad."

"Ah. Thanks, Jesse," Mark responded. "Steve? Could you check on the pork chops?" He then asked Al, "Would you like to wake Sam? It might not be as startling."

Al nodded. "Of course." He went over to Sam and sat on the edge of the sofa. Lightly shaking his shoulder, he said gently, "Sam? You need to wake up for a little bit, Kid."

Steve watched how the older man interacted with his witness. If he didn't know better, he'd question if Al had a familial relationship with the younger man although he knew that wasn't the case. Instead he turned to his father. 'Um, sure, Dad," he said before heading to the kitchen.

Since he was in a light sleep, Sam woke quickly. He opened his eyes and squinted at Al. "Whassa matta?"

"Nothing's the matter, Kid," Al soothed. "It's just time for you to take your medicine, that's all."

"Ok." Sam looked around for the mentioned medicine. "Where is it?" Although he had been sleeping lightly, he was still fuzzy from just waking up.

"Right here," Mark answered as he came back with the glass of water and two bottles. He handed Al the glass to hold while he opened the Tylenol and took out two of the tablets and then one from the bottle of antibiotics. He handed the three pills to Sam. "Jesse brought some Tylenol and it's time for the antibiotic again."

"Ok." Sam accepted the medication and swallowed them one at a time with the water Al gave him. "How long was I sleeping?"

Al watched Sam as he took the tablets. "It's been about three hours give or take."

"Really? I can't believe how much I've slept today...and I'm still feeling tired." Sam sipped more at the glass of water then handed it back to Al.

"That's to be expected. You're still recovering and you lost a good deal of blood," Mark pointed out. "It's just been 48 hours." He leaned over the back of couch and rested his hand on Sam's forehead. "You're not feeling much warmer than you were earlier."

Although Al was fully aware of the issues that Mark pointed out, hearing it said that way caused him to involuntarily crease his forehead with worry. He got up with the glass. "I'll just put this in the kitchen."

As he walked in, he saw Steve working with the pork chops. He'd seen Mark starting the dinner but looking into the pan, noticed the fresh sprinkling of rosemary. "You put that on?"

This time Steve gave the older man a simple, "Yes," waiting to hear what he'd say rather than just assume it was a dig.

"Great choice. Pork and rosemary are naturals." Al went to put the glass in the sink.

"Yeah. I've always thought so too," Steve answered. "Dad usually tries to keep me away from the kitchen except for turning things over and stirring."

"Maybe he should give you a little more free reign. If this is any indicator, you probably have a knack for it."

"No," Jesse emphatically disagreed joining the two men at the stove. "It's probably more of an accident. That's all you did to them, isn't it?" he asked Steve with some alarm. "You remember what happened the last time you decided to get creative."

"What?" Steve said. "I just tried to mixed sour cream, salsa, and parsley. How did I know it would turn out that color?" He looked at Al. "Tasted good though."

Al nodded. "Good cooks do experiment, you know. They learn from their mistakes and just do it better the next time."

"Sure," Jesse agreed. "You just need to have a cast iron stomach or a stomach pump around this guy. Trust me. You don't want him to experiment."

Al looked between the two men noticing a lot of the same kind of camaraderie that he shared with Sam. Although Jesse had basically insulted Steve's cooking ability, there had been a lot of good-natured ribbing in his voice. "I guess, I'll have to take your word for it then since you know him better."

"Your stomach'll thank you."

Before anyone said anything else, the phone rang. Since Mark was still occupied with Sam, Jesse went to answer it. After initial greetings, he held it out to Steve. "It's the station."

As Steve went to take the phone call, Al noticed Mark helping Sam up off the couch. "Everything ok?"

"I just need to use the restroom," Sam explained before moving off slowing in that direction.

"I hate to say it," Jesse said as he joined Mark and Al in the living room, "but he looks as rough as he did last night. You sure this is such a good idea?"

"Yeah," Al agreed, concern tingeing his voice. "I think he was looking better this morning before he left the hospital

"Well, this morning he hadn't been moving around as much or playing referee to you and my son." As he said the last, Mark gave Al a firm look. "Honestly, I'd much rather he was still in the hospital but if he's going to be kept safe and not put the rest of the hospital at risk, this really is the best choice. We'll just have to keep a close watch on him and make sure he's resting." Giving Al a meaningful look he added on, "And not playing referee anymore."

Al looked down contrite knowing that his disagreements with Steve hadn't helped Sam any. The kid had a natural need to play the peacemaker and he'd had to do that a little too often today. Silently he reiterated to himself the promise he'd made to Sam to try to get along.

"I'm going to have miss dinner," Steve said as he hung up the phone. The other three men turned to look at him. "That was the station. Kristie Michaels' mother just got home and found her daughter dead. Her throat had been slit. Damn it," he exclaimed angrily, "she couldn't even give us a description or identify this guy and he still took her out."

Although the name wasn't familiar with Al, he guessed that Kristie Michaels was the young woman who'd been working in the mini-mart at the gas station when Sam had gone in. The image of her wide, panicked blue eyes came unbidden to him only to be replaced by Sam's. If he knew about this, it would tug at his heart and it wouldn't do him any good. It certainly wouldn't help him to get that rest that Dr. Sloan wanted for him. "Sam can't know about this," he quickly said before his friend could come back. "At least for now, he can't know."

"You sure that's the best thing?" Steve questioned. "Earlier he didn't seem to care for anything being held back from him."

"I'm sure." Al was adamant when he said it. This was one of those things that right now would only hurt Sam more to know. He knew there'd be hell to pay once Sam found out, and he had no illusions that wouldn't eventually happen. For now though, he wasn't going to let his friend hurt more.

"Just remember, it's your choice," Steve reminded. He wanted Al to be sure he knew that if Sam had a problem with being deceived, he was not going to take the blame for it this time. "Look, you figure out what to tell him, I've got to get going."

"I'll hold some dinner for you, Son, and reheat it when you get back."

"Thanks, Dad."

Mark waited until his son had left before echoing his son's question. From what Sam had told him earlier, he knew that the younger man resented when Al made these kinds of unilateral decisions for him.

"You don't know Sam," Al explained. "He takes these things to heart. You tell him this and I can guarantee he won't be getting any sleep tonight and he'll just blame himself. Trust me on that." He looked between the other two men hoping that they'd honor his request.

Jesse looked over to Mark, "You ok with this?"

"Not really," Mark answered honestly, "but I think maybe we should follow Al's lead at least for now."

Al looked gratefully at them. "Thanks." While he knew that eventually Sam would need to hear the truth, right now his healing was more important. Once more he accepted that Sam would rake him over the coals for withholding information which was the likely result of following this plan.

Sam made his way slowly from the bathroom. He saw the three men clustered together and could sense some tension in the air. "What's going on?" he asked looking between the three.

Al thought fast. "Um, Steve said he had to go down to the station. You know the picture you helped create is going to be put on the news tonight." The two weren't fully related but Sam didn't know that and both statements were true, so it wasn't like Al was lying. If Sam put the two together, it wasn't really his or anyone else's doing.

"So that's why the three of you look like someone just told you the dog died?" Sam had the impression that something else was going on that may or may not be related to Steve going down to the station. He realized the likelihood of finding out what it was at this point wasn't very good. "Ok, don't tell me." He looked Al square in the eye. "You know I am going to find out eventually but if you feel better not telling me right now, ok."

Al's heart sank. He couldn't outright lie to Sam. The kid had backed him into the corner. "Um...well..." he squirmed, "...Steve did go down to the station, but it wasn't exactly about the picture."

"Al," Sam said seeing how his friend was squirming. "I'm not putting you on the spot. If you don't want to tell me right now, don't."

Al took the option Sam was holding out. "I think it would be best."

"How about we sit down and have some dinner," Mark suggested hoping to get past what had become an awkward moment. "Jess, why don't you get the table set?"

Jesse looked at the other three men and then answered his mentor. "Yeah, sure, Mark." He went into the kitchen and retrieved the needed silverware and dishes. From what he'd just witnessed, he imagined that something like this had happened before between Al and Sam. The way it had resolved showed the trust the two men had in each other.

Sam and Al moved over to the dining table and took seats while Jesse finished setting it and Mark brought over the food. "Smells good," Sam commented as the plate of pork chops was placed on the table.

"It does," Al agreed. He waited for Mark to give the lead as how to proceed. It was his house, after all.

"Well, don't just smell it," Mark suggested. He sat down opposite Al once everything was on the table. "Dig in."

Following Mark's suggestion, Sam put one of the pork chops on his plate. It was one of the smaller ones and the amount of mashed potatoes and corn he added to his plate was also less than he normally ate but his stomach was feeling just the slightest bit queasy and he thought it best that he not eat too much. He cut off a bit of the pork and put it in his mouth. "Tastes as good as it smells."

Al followed Sam in taking his share. He noticed that Sam wasn't eating much and again felt justified in holding the information back. He took a bite as well and nodded. "Yeah. What he said."

"I'm glad the two of you like it," Mark said with a smile. "So, what kind of work to you two do?" His hope was to start dinner conversation that was as far from what had happened over the last couple of days.

Al spoke up. "We're government contractors."

"Government contractors? That sounds interesting." Jesse filled his plate with generous portions. "So, what are you guy's working on?"

"It is interesting but…um…the problem is we can't tell you what we're doing," Sam said apologetically.

Al smiled. "Yeah, if we told you, we'd have to kill you."

"Yeah, right?" Jesse said on a laugh. He caught sight of the look on Al's face. "You're kidding...aren't you? I mean you really wouldn't..." He looked over at Mark. "They couldn't really do that, could they?"

"No, Jess," Mark answered on a laugh. "I think the admiral's just trying to make a point.

Al nodded. "Yeah. Better if we just don't tell you. Suffice to say, it's physics related."

Sam was tempted to point out that even if they could talk about Project Quantum Leap, the chances that Mark or Jesse would believe him were pretty low. Most likely, they'd want to put him and Al in a psych ward. Instead, he decided to change the subject to safer territory. He looked around the open plan of the house. The ocean could be seen out the glass sliding doors. "You've got a beautiful place."

"Thanks." Mark had never taken his home or it's location on the beach for granted. It was his refuge after a hard day at the hospital and he knew it was a refuge for Steve as well.

Al nodded out to the beach where he'd seen the girls sunbathing. "Yeah, and the great view isn't just the ocean."

"Stop it," Sam chastised as he lightly kicked Al under the table. "Can't you just behave once? That's all…just once… think about something else." He turned to Mark. "I'm sorry. Al tends to get a little carried away sometimes."

"Behave? I'm behaving," Al said innocently.

Sam gave Al another look but Mark spoke up. "Well, Steve says much the same and I'm not adverse to that view," he said conciliatorily.

"Well, ok then," Sam answered. "However, I'm sure there's more to living here than just the great views."

"Well, I've been told the surfing is good. Have you ever surfed?"

"I didn't exactly grow up where you'd go surfing so, not me."

"Where'd you grow up?" Mark asked curiously.

"A small town in, Indiana. You probably never heard of it - Elk Ridge."

"From what I understand there were cows, corn, and lots of chores," Al put in.

"It was a good place to grow up, Al," Sam defended his hometown. "We might not have had a lot and I might not have your checkered past but it was a good place to be."

"Well, it was a good place for you to grow up. Me? I would have gone stir crazy."

Sam looked at Al in mock shock. "Would have? I thought you already were?"

"Ha ha, funny, Sam." Al shot Sam a narrowed eye gaze. "If I'm crazy, then it's like a fox."

Mark watched the interplay between Al and Sam, knowing it was good natured ribbing. He smiled as he told Sam, "Then you and Jesse have something in common."

"What's that," Sam asked curiously.

"If you grew up in Indiana, you're both from the Midwest."

Sam turned to the younger doctor. "Where abouts?" he asked curiously.

"Illinois. I grew up in Elgin."

Al looked over to Jesse, "You grow up on a farm as well?"

"No. No farm," Jesse quickly answered. "My Mom's a podiatrist and my Dad...uh...my Dad's up in Canada. They got divorced when I was just a kid."

"I'm sorry." Sam could see by the way Jesse started poking at his food the subject of his parent's divorce still bothered him.

"That's too bad," Al said. "It's hard to only have one parent around."

"Nah, don't be. It's probably better that way."

"So, how'd you end up out here in California?" Sam felt leading the discussion away from Jesse's family life would probably be for the best.

"Med school first, then I got accepted to an internship at Community General so...here I am."

"We're hoping he stays on once his internship is completed," Mark added on. "Jesse's a very gifted doctor and we'd hate to lose him.

"That's another thing they have in common," Al pointed out. "Sam's an M.D. as well."

"I knew he was a Doctor, but I thought that was for his Ph.D. You say you did physics work?" Mark questioned.

"I do. I also have my medical doctorate," Sam explained. "I just don't practice." A part of Sam wished Al hadn't brought up the fact that he had his MD. So far these men didn't seem to have any idea of who he was and were treating him just like anybody else. Well, anybody else who was an instrumental witness to an attempted murder. Finding out about his MD would inevitably lead to questions that would lead to talking about the other degrees he held and that would soon have them treating him differently. "At the time, I intended to - at least for a little while but after I finished my internship...I just wasn't cut out for it." He looked between Mark and Jesse. "I admire both of you for what you do. I know it's not everyone who can pursue a career in medicine."

"Oh that's nothing," Al started. Seeing Sam's warning glance, he stopped. "I mean, um...well..." He wasn't sure what else to say, "...Sam's got a lot of interests."

After a little prompting, Sam talked a bit about his other interests. Although Jesse and Mark seemed to show some surprise when Sam spoke of how many degrees he held, much to his relief they didn't start to treat him differently.

When dinner was done, Sam and Al both wanted to help with the cleanup but Mark chased them away drafting Jesse to help. He reminded Sam that he was supposed to be resting, not pulling KP duty.

As he came into the living room after cleanup, he noticed Sam looking at the chessboard that was set up. "Do you play?"

"Sometimes," Sam answered. "I haven't in a while, though."

"Well, I've been looking for a worthy opponent. You just could be him, Dr. Beckett," Mark joked.

Sam accepted his challenge and soon the two were deep into their first game. While Mark and Sam were engaged in their chess game, Al and Jesse entertained themselves with a basketball game on TV.

The chess game went on for awhile and the game went into overtime. Fifteen minutes after 11:00 the game ended Lakers 90 Pistons 88. Al excused himself to use the restroom. While he was out of the room, the news came on the air.

"Top news tonight, there's been a brutal murder in the Santa Monica area earlier this evening. Ms. Kristie Michaels was found in the home she shared with her mother, Mrs. Tamera Michaels..."

Al exited the bathroom and saw the news program on. Hearing the last line by the anchor he said quickly with some worry in his voice, "Jesse, can you change the channel or something?"

Sam, who hadn't paying much attention to the TV and instead was concentrating on the game of chess, perked up when he heard the way Al made the request. He looked over to the TV just as they showed the sobbing mother. "Is that why Steve had to leave," he asked. Since he was a homicide detective, it would make sense that a murder would pull him away. His face blanched when the artist's rendering of the man he'd seen in the gas station was flashed on the screen. "Leave it on," he said in a shaky voice.

Al moved closer to the screen, hoping to block the view, "It would be better not to see this, kid," Al tried.

"Al, move." When it didn't seem likely his friend was going to move, he demanded he do so again. "I know what this is about even if I can't see it. Now get out of the way." Once Al had stepped aside, Sam moved closer to the TV.

The reporter was talking to the mother, who sobbed throughout the interview. "She was such a good girl. She didn't even remember what he looked like she was so scared. He didn't need to do this. She didn't deserve to die like this." The reporter once again flashed the drawing on the screen. "Another witness, though, was able to help police with this sketch. If you see this person, please call police immediately but do not attempt to apprehend. It is believed that he's armed and extremely dangerous. He has been linked to nine murders in the city of LA. Again, call police if you believe you have seen this man."

"This is what the three of you were keeping from me before." Sam said when the report ended. There was no question in his voice. "You didn't want me to know this." He wasn't sure if he should be angry with the other men or grateful that they'd tried to keep this continuing nightmare from him. Confused by his own emotions, he abruptly turned around and hurried to the bedroom he was using. He didn't close the door when he went in and sat on the edge of the bed.

Seeing Sam bolt out of the room suddenly, Al went after him. "Sam? What are you thinking, Buddy?" he asked as he walked in Sam's room, cautiously moving towards him.

"What should I be thinking?" Sam's voice was dejected. His posture was slumped and he stared down at the floor. "That girl's dead, Al." He looked over to his friend. "Now do you see why I have to help? She shouldn't have died and I can help prevent anyone else from dying, I have to do it."

"Ah, Sammy," Al said seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. He went over and sat down next to him. "You're right, she shouldn't have died but you've been doing everything you can to get this nozzle off the streets. I don't see what more you can do."

"Maybe..." Sam began tentatively. "Maybe if I wasn't hidden away. Maybe if he knew where I was, he would have come after me instead and they could have caught him."

A chill went up Al's spine. "Sam, if he knew where you were, you could be dead as well. He's tried to kill you twice. I don't think he has any qualms about finishing the job."

"So instead that girl's dead? Are you saying I somehow have more right to be alive than she did? God, Al, she was just a kid. She had her whole life ahead of her."

Shocked that Sam would question his own outrage at the situation, he said, "You know that's not what I'm saying kid. I'm just as angry as you are that she's dead. I'm just saying, I don't think there's much that would stop this guy."

"That's right, there isn't. He needs to be caught and put away before anyone else is killed." Sam got up from the bed and started to pace around the room. "There's got to be more that I can do. I just...I just don't know what." Deflated he sat on the bed once again. "I just don't know."

Al took a deep breath and sighed. He hated what he knew would be the reality. Sam would figure this out and would likely put himself in danger to do what needed to be done to catch the killer. "You will, Sam. I may not like it, but you will."

"How? How will I know what to do?" Frustrated, Sam shook his head. "Just forget it. You're probably right and I'm doing everything I can." He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly hoping that with it would go his fear and his apprehension. He wasn't successful with that. "Look, I'm getting kinda tired. Maybe I should just to go to sleep and things might look different tomorrow."

Al nodded. "Yeah, Kid. That might be the best thing. We'll look at all this tomorrow."

Deciding he could sleep the night in the clothes he had on, Sam pushed back on the bed so he could lie down. As he reached to pull the covers up, Al beat him too it and tucked them around him instead. "You know, you really would make a great Dad," Sam said with a small smile. "You sure have the tucking in thing down pat."

Al smiled, "Yeah, well, I had practice with Trudy."

"She was lucky." Sam nestled down into the pillow. He hoped he'd be able to find sleep tonight and that thoughts of everything that had happened wouldn't keep him awake. "G'night, Al."

"Good night, Sam. I'll be right out here if you need me."

"He ok?" Mark asked in concern when Al came back in the living room. He was just coming back from the front door after seeing Jesse out.

"I'm not sure…" said Al, cautiously. He sighed, "…but I was right. He's really taken this revelation to heart. He feels if he'd done more then she wouldn't be dead."

"But he's doing everything he can," Mark insisted. "What more can he do? He's cooperating with the police. He was able to provide a description. There's really nothing else he can do."

"I know that and you know that but Sam..." Al trailed off, not exactly sure how he could describe the way Sam would internalize things. "I know he just feels that there must have been something he could do to stop what happened."

Mark chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment as he thought. "Do you think it might help if I talked to him?"

"He's going to sleep right now. Maybe tomorrow," Al answered. "I hope you don't mind but everything's just caught up to me and I just want to crash." From the discussions when the safe house idea was pitched, Al knew he'd be staying at the beach house as well. He figured he would take the couch.

"A good night's sleep is probably the best thing for him and you." Mark smiled at Al. "I'm sorry we don't have another extra room but the couch is comfortable. I'll go get you linens to make up it up."

"Thanks," Al said gratefully. He didn't want to tell Mark he was a little worried how Sam's sleep might be disturbed if history had any say in tonight.

When Mark brought back the bedding, Al told him, "I know you probably feel I'm being overly cautious, but with Sam..."

"Say no more, Al," Mark said holding up a hand to forestall Al from saying anything else. "You know him better than I do. I know how I'd feel if our situations were reversed and it was Steve."

Al gave a small smile. "Ok. Thanks. Anyways, I do appreciate the accommodations."

Mark smiled. "Not a problem. I wish we had someplace more private for you than the living room."

"I actually prefer it. That way I can hear Sam if he calls."

"Yeah. I can see that." With a stretch, Mark finished, "Well, I'm turning in, too. Don't worry about being disturbed by Steve. His apartment's attached but it has a separate entry."

"Goodnight, then." Al started to turn towards the couch but stopped. He turned back to Mark. "And thanks. I know you all are trying to do the right thing for everyone."

Mark smiled once more. "Yeah." He paused. "Night, Al. Sleep well." With that, he went into his own room.

Al got ready and pulled a cover over himself. He wasn't sure and hoped he was wrong, but something told him sleeping well was just a pipe dream.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Mark didn't think he'd been asleep long when he was pulled awake by a strange noise. He was used to Steve's nocturnal journeys upstairs to raid the refrigerator but this didn't sound like that.

It briefly crossed his mind that it could be Sam's would-be killer but it didn't sound like someone who'd broken in either. If it had been, he assumed the person would have been much quieter and stealthy.

Throwing back the covers, he grabbed his bathrobe from the foot of the bed and got up to investigate what the noise was. He opened the bedroom door and took a step out and noticed Sam walking up the hallway to the living room. Wondering if something were wrong, he called his name softly but received no answer.

Now truly curious as to what his patient was doing, he followed him. He watched as Sam stopped by one of the bookcases he kept his medical texts on and started to methodically take them off the shelves and rearrange them. It was then that he realized that Sam wasn't truly awake.

He went over to the couch where Al was sleeping and shook him gently to wake him.

Al's eyes sprang open. "Sam!?" He started somewhat loudly. His own sleep had been strange and he'd been caught in a dream were he was trying to help his friend but wasn't able to reach him.

"Easy, Al," Mark soothed, not wanting Al's voice to startle his patient. "It's not Sam. It's Mark." He waited a beat until Al was more awake before pointing to the man who was still rearranging his bookshelves. "It seems Sam's sleepwalking. I thought you might have some experience with this if he's done it before."

Once Al realized who had awoken him, he shifted his gaze to where Mark was pointing him. "Ah, Sammy..." Al started but quickly tried to cover the concerned endearment, "...um...Yeah. Sam tends to do this when he's really upset about something."

"So, you know how to get him back to bed without getting him upset then?" Mark pretended not to notice Al's slip or his quick cover. "I didn't want to wake him and startle him. I think he's had enough upset today without adding to it."

"No. Waking him's not the answer." Al pushed off the covers and went over to Sam. He knelt down beside him and took one of the books that Sam was moving. In a calm and soothing voice he said to the sleepwalking man, "Hey, Sam. You did a good job with these books but now you need to go back to bed. Can you do that for me?"

"Gotta fix the books," Sam slowly said. He picked up another tome from the pile next to him and put it on the shelf.

"They're fixed," Mark assured in a gentle voice, following Al's lead. He crouched down on the other side of Sam. "Why don't you listen to the Admiral now and go on back to bed."

Al took another of the books. "Yeah, Sam. The books are just as they need to be. You did a good job."

Nodding once, Sam slowly rose to his feet. He looked at neither of the men who were with him. When Al took hold of his elbow and started to lead him back to the bedroom, he went docilely.

Once Al had tucked his friend back into bed, he stood beside Sam for a minute, watching as the kid fell back into his sleep cycle. He turned and was not surprised to see Mark's silhouette in the doorway. Al went over to the doctor that was obviously concerned with his patient. Once away from his friend, he sighed. "God, I hope he sleeps through the night. This can't be good for healing, can it?"

"I can't say it's recommended," Mark said with a quirk of his lips. "There's so little we really know about the mind," he continued more seriously. "This might not affect him at all and he did fall right back into a deep sleep." He led Al away from the bedroom so their voices wouldn't disturb Sam. "Has this happened often?"

"Well," Al said, his face showing his concern,"...I guess that depends on what you consider often." He paused, not sure how much of his history Sam would want someone to know. "Let's just say the kid has been through the wringer a few times and when that happens the sleepwalking sometimes appears with it."

"He mentioned a little bit of his history earlier." Mark looked back in thought at the room Sam occupied. "Do you think he's likely to get up again tonight? I'm just wondering if it's a good idea to leave him by himself. I'd hate for him to do something that would hurt him worse."

"I won't be going back to sleep," Al said simply. "I'll stand watch."

"You need to sleep, too. You're not going to be much help to him if you're falling over from exhaustion." Mark thought again about the situation they were in. "It might not be the best option and I don't know how you'd feel about it but, the bed's plenty big enough. You could just sleep in there with him tonight then you'd know if he gets up again."

Al shook his head. "No. If you say I need to sleep, I'll take the floor or pull a chair into the room." When he saw Mark's reaction he added, "Trust me, I'm ok with that."

Mark blew out a long breath. "I guess you know what you're doing and I won't argue with you. Call me if he needs anything and try to get some sleep."

"I will," Al said. He went out to get the bedding from the couch. He knew that any sleep he got tonight would be light.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

It was still full dark when Sam woke. All the fluids that had been pushed on him during the evening were taking a toll now and if he didn't get up to use the bathroom, he'd be in big trouble. The drawback was, he was comfortable in bed and didn't want to wake up. His body wasn't giving him much choice, though.

In the dark, he could barely see anything in the room but remembered there was nothing that would hamper his navigation between the bed and the doorway. Confident that he could make it across the room with only the light that filtered in around the window shade, he got out of bed and slowly began to move toward the door. He didn't get more than three steps when his foot encountered something firm yet yielding. Not expecting it, it tripped him up causing him to lose his balance and tumble into a dresser with a loud thump. "What the hell?" he wondered and slid down the dresser to the floor.

Al, in a rather light sleep was instantly awake when Sam's foot hit him. However, he wasn't able to move fast enough to arise and catch Sam before his friend hit the dresser. He barely saw the contact of man with furniture, but the sound of the hit told him about the force of the connection. "Ouch. That's gotta hurt. Sorry, Sam."

Sam didn't want to admit just how much it did hurt and made a noncommittal noise in response instead. "What the heck are you doing?"

A few moments later, the door flew open, with Mark questioning, "What happened?"

Al immediately noticed the light flooding into the room as the door opened and spun ready to take on the killer if that's who was entering the room. Seeing Mark, he relaxed again. "Sam tripped over me," he explained.

"You still haven't told me why you're sleeping on the floor," Sam reminded irritably. He rolled over to his knees and pushed up to stand, leaning against the dresser he'd fallen into. "Are you trying to break my neck?"

Al rubbed the back of his neck. "Um...no, Sam. Actually we were hoping this would protect you better." He paused, wondering whether to tell Sam what had precipitated his actions and finally decided it was best if he did. "You were sleepwalking earlier."

As the three men were talking, Steve rushed in with his gun at the ready. Seeing that there was no emergency that he could see, he put it down. Looking at his father, he explained, "It sounded like someone was coming through the ceiling."

Al's eyes narrowed as Steve rushed in. All he could think of was that if there had been the killer in the room with Sam, his friend would already be dead. However, he'd told Sam he would get along with the man and he was going to keep his promise.

"Sam just tripped, that's all," Mark explained to his son. He moved to usher both Steve and Al out of the room. "Why don't the two of you go in the living room and try not kill each other while I check Sam and make sure he didn't pull his stitches."

"Sleepwalking? Again?" Sam mouthed softly distracted from what the other three men were talking about until he heard Mark mention checking his wound. "That's gonna have to wait. I…uh…I got up for a reason."

Al gave Sam a quick look before allowing himself to be banished to the living room. Once there, he moved to the other side of the room, his face hard and his mind in thought.

"I'm sure he's fine," Steve said in an awkward attempt to set Al's mind at ease. It looked like the man was thinking about something and it didn't look very pleasant. "Dad didn't seem too concerned."

"Your Dad might not be, but I am," Al said, his voice deceptively calm. He continued to eye the detective, the possibility that the killer could get to Sam before this man could help running though his mind. "I just think that if Sam had really been in danger a moment ago, you weren't exactly 'Johnny on the spot.'"

"What's your problem now, Calavicci?" Steve sighed. "You know, I'm getting really tired of you pinning every problem on me." He crossed the room so he was standing right in front of Al. "None of this is my fault in case you forgot. I'm not the one who decided to hold up that gas station and I'm not the one who stuck a knife in your friend but you keep acting that way."

"No, you didn't do any of those things. Still, the girl is dead and now you're all that stands between that nut job and my friend. Having you show up the way you did a moment ago didn't exactly give me warm fuzzies."

"I'm not all that stands between the nut job and Dr. Beckett. Do you really think there's no one outside? The nut job would most likely have been stopped long before he even got in here. My role is backup on the rare chance that doesn't occur. But if I didn't know there was a first line of defense, I'd be right in that room with him."

Al considered that. "No. If anyone's in the room, it's gonna be me. Sam's worried right now. He saw the news last night. He knows."

Steve backed a few steps away from Al and blew out a breath. "I thought you were going to keep that from him?"

"I was trying to. I didn't know the news had come on since the game went over time. I'd just left the room for a moment and when I came back, the story was on."

"I take he didn't take it very well and that's why you were sleeping on the floor in there?"

"Well, when he first heard it bothered him a little but not in a way you could tell. Did you hear me tell Sam he'd been sleepwalking? That's not a typical thing for him but he does it when something's upsetting him."

"No, I guess, I didn't hear you say that." Steve's voice softened. He realized how much this was affecting both Al and Sam on such an emotional level. "You might want to keep him away from the news a lot longer. I got called to another gas station this yahoo hit." He turned away from Al walking over to the sliding doors that looked out on the deck. It was a small station, only one guy was working - the owner." He looked back over his shoulder at Al. "He killed him."

Al didn't say anything for a moment, taking the information in. When he did speak it was with a quiet anger mixed with sadness. "He's not going to stop, is he." It was said not as a question but with finality.

"No." Steve shook his head sadly. "He's going to keep going until we catch him. Now do you see why we need Dr. Beckett's...Sam's help with this?"

Al's forehead creased with concern. "I understand. I wish I didn't but I understand." He knew that Sam would take this second death hard. He was also well aware that he couldn't keep hiding the world from him forever either. Sam would explode if he thought that was happening. "Sam's going to have to learn about this. Keeping one thing away for a day or so I can justify. Trying to isolate him from life is another."

"Well, I'll leave that to you and Dad to tell him what happened. You'll know the best way." Steve moved over the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. He pulled out the plate his father had put in there for him and brought it over to the microwave to heat up. "You want some of this? Dad put a lot in here."

Al shook his head. "No, but it was really good. Wouldn't mind the recipe."

"You'll have to talk to Dad about that."

"You were the one that did the seasoning." Al said. He moved closer to Steve and went back to the previous topic. "Listen, Steve. I know that we need to do something to catch this nozzle. I get that but I also want to keep Sam as safe as possible. I usually don't bring a gun with me when I travel. I'd like to know if you have one I can borrow. Just in case."

"What?" Steve asked in surprise not expecting the request. "You want me to just give you a gun? You do realize it isn't everyone who can have one, don't you?"

"I'm a Navy Admiral, Steve. I've had a pistol since I joined and I've kept up with my marksmanship testing. I may not be active right now, but I'm still in the reserves. I don't think it's a huge stretch to request a weapon."

"This is different. You want vengeance."

"No. I want to protect my friend. I didn't get where I am trying to extract cowboy justice."

"I can't just give you a weapon. My butt's on the line if I do." Steve paused a moment pursing his lips as he thought. "Look, I'll talk to my captain tomorrow. If he says ok, I'll make sure you're armed."

Al didn't particularly like the answer but he understood the chain of command. "I understand, but I want to know as soon as possible."

"As soon as I know, you'll know." The microwave beeped and Steve pulled the plate out and took it over to the table. "You sure you don't want any?"

"I'm sure, but thanks for the offer." Al turned to go back to the couch. He was wondering why the exam was taking so long when the door opened and Mark walked out. "How's Sam?" Al asked with concern.

Mark tried to hold back a small grin at Al's reaction. "Take it easy, Al. He's settled in bed again. He didn't pull any of the stitches."

"Oh. That's good." He paused. "Steve tells me we have some more bad news. Based on how Sam dealt with the news of the girl's death, I'm afraid of how he'll react."

"I'm not sure giving him any bad news right now is a good idea. You know his temp was up a bit earlier?" Mark waited until Al nodded before continuing. "Well, it's still up and it's a little higher than it was." He could see that Al was not taking that information very well and quickly tried to allay the worst of his worries. "It's not cause for alarm right now and it's really not unexpected. He does need to rest, though, so that it doesn't turn into a problem."

Al weighed what Mark was saying. "So we can't tell Sam anything."

"Right now, I'd rather you didn't. Whatever this news is, I've got a feeling it won't help him sleep and I'd really rather he get as much restful sleep as possible."

"Yeah. He definitely needs that." Al dropped down onto the couch that had been his makeshift bed before he'd moved to the floor. "Damn it! Sometimes I feel like the kid's never going to get a break. Most people don't face half of what Sam has to date. It just doesn't seem fair."

Neither of the Sloans knew what to say that would make Al feel any better. They both knew all too well how circumstances could change so drastically. They both knew it from their careers as well as their lives. Mark approached Al and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He's not sleeping yet. Why don't you go in and keep him company until he is. He'd probably appreciate it."

Al looked up into the doctor's face. Mark was a few years older than he was but they were mostly contemporaries. Still, he could see the wisdom and compassion in the physician's eye. "Thanks. I'd like that." Al got up and went to the bedroom door and knocked softly.

"Come in," Sam called out when he heard the knocking. Once he was satisfied that Sam's trip hadn't pulled out any of the stitches, Mark had ordered him to get some sleep. The doctor had taken his temperature again and hadn't been happy to see it had gone up a little higher than it had earlier.

Al went into the room. "Sorry you tripped over me. Mark said no real damage was done."

"Was your plan to keep me from sleepwalking to have me break an ankle or something?" Sam softened the question was a crooked smile. "There are less painful ways you could do that."

"I just figured I'd hear you and wake up," Al said. "Guess it wasn't much of a plan."

"Next time, just give me a couple of feet so I can make some noise to wake you up. I'm not always sleepwalking if I get up in the middle of the night you know." As he said the last, Sam tried to hold back a yawn but had little success. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah. Mark said you should get some rest."

"I've got a feeling he said more than that." Sam hiked the blanket up higher, burrowing his head deeper into the pillow. "Just tell me you're not gonna go off the deep-end, ok? A post-op fever is perfectly normal." His voice was tinged with sleep and he fought to keep his eyes open. "Doesn't mean anything bad's gonna happen."

"I know, Sam." Al looked at the kid and his heart fell to see the dark circles forming under his eyes. Al was pretty sure he knew how Sam would likely take the news of the latest murder. Mark was right. He needed to get healthier first.

"You're still gonna worry."

"Yeah, well...you know I can't turn that off, Kid."

It was getting harder and harder for Sam to fight sleep much as he wanted to. He wanted to ask his friend what he'd been doing while he was sleepwalking. He really wanted to know why he'd been doing it but those questions were going to have to wait until later. Before leaving the room, Mark had had him take more Tylenol and also had given him one of the pain killers. Although his trip into the dresser hadn't caused any damage, it had set his side throbbing again. Right now, the pain killer was working and it was getting harder to string two coherent thoughts together. "Don't sleep on the floor," he said softly before giving in to sleep. "Bad for your back."

Al smiled that the kid would be concerned about his back. "Between my back and your safety, I'll choose your safety."

"Mmm..." was Sam's only reply before finally giving in to sleep.

Al got up and readjusted Sam's covers. He looked at the sleeping man. "It's going to be ok, Sam. No matter what, it's going to be ok." With that he pulled the bedroll he'd put on the floor to the side of the room where he wouldn't be in Sam's way again and pulled the covers over him. It took awhile to fall asleep as he thought about how this situation was evolving, but eventually he did fall into a light sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The light was filtering into the room when Al pulled into wakefulness. It was much earlier than he usually awoke but on any normal day, Sam still would have been awake first.

He rubbed his face, realizing that no day since the psycho had stabbed Sam at the gas station had been normal. He got up and tried to stretch out the kinks in his back. Sam was right. The floor hadn't been the best choice but under the circumstances, there was no way he'd sleep anywhere else.

He went over to the bed and gazed at Sam. The kid was sleeping on his side, one hand under his cheek. Smiling, Al could imagine Bear next to him, cradled in his arms. For a moment he envied Thelma for the fact she had seen him in a similar pose through his childhood. He reached out to brush the hair from his friend's eyes.

"Mom?" Sam softly asked when he felt the gentle hand.

"No. Not Mom, Sam," Al said softly. "It's me, Al."

Sam opened his eyes and blinked slowly up at Al. "Can I stay in bed a little while longer," he asked in a voice just above a whisper. "I'm still tired."

"Sure, Kid. You need the rest. Dr. Sloan said that was the best thing for you."

Sam nodded slightly in agreement. "I'll just sleep a little bit more. When I wake up, we'll figure out how I can help catch that guy."

Al took in a slow breath. One part of him wanted to talk Sam out of that particular plan but a bigger part knew that doing so wasn't really an option. That man needed to be stopped. The fact that he'd killed twice in one day said that in spades. "Yeah. We'll figure that out, Sam. Go on back to sleep." Al yawned again and then, his voice still a part of the yawn, told the younger man, "I'm just going out to the kitchen and see if I can rustle up some coffee."

There was a soft knock on the door before Al reached it and it opened slightly as Mark poked his head in. "I just wanted to see how Sam was doing this morning," he explained.

"He's awake," Al said as he tried to stifle another yawn. "I'm not sure how much longer, though." He moved out of the way so Mark could get in the room. "I'm going to go get some coffee."

After Al had left the room, Mark moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He could see Sam fighting to keep his eyes open. "How are you doing this morning, Sam?"

"Tired," the younger man responded. He didn't want to say anything that would end up getting him put back in the hospital but he also wanted to be as honest as he could. "I've felt better," he confessed.

"Well, you did have a busy night," Mark explained. He rested the palm of his hand on Sam's forehead. You don't feel too hot. He got up from the bed and smoothed the blanket out. "I want you to stay put right there today, though. You need rest."

"Ok," Sam quickly agreed. Staying in bed was the most attractive option he could see at the moment and he felt like he could sleep for another couple of hours.

As he watched Sam snuggle down into the blanket ready to go back to sleep again, Mark huffed out a laugh. "Hang on just a second before you head off to dreamland again. I need you to take your meds and I'd like to use something a little more accurate than my hand to see if you're running a fever."

Sam fought the urge to sleep long enough to take the medication handed to him and for Mark to take his temperature. He was barely aware of the older man telling him what the reading was.

Seeing that Sam was already starting to fall back to sleep, Mark quietly slipped from the room going out to the kitchen to where Al sat drinking his coffee.

Al looked up, his face showing the tiredness that came from a number of factors, not the least being the worry and the uncomfortable floor he'd chosen for his bed. "Sam ok?"

"He will be. ""He's still running a low-grade fever but it's not anything I wouldn't expect right now. It's like I said. He needs rest." He moved over to the phone. "I am going to ask Amanda to stop by on her way into the hospital. I'd like to get a new set of labs on him just to be sure." After he completed the phone call, he filled a mug with coffee and joined Al at the table. "A little rest and he should be good as new in no time." He took a sip from the coffee and then smiled at Al. "I've got a feeling you're best equipped to make sure he does that

"I'll make sure he rests, although I don't think I'm going to get much of an argument today." Al gazed down into his mug. "Sam's already talking about finding another way to help catch the guy."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like Sam. He's got a real drive to do what he thinks is right, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. That's one thing you learn quickly about Sam. He has a clear vision of morality and ethics and he does his best to live to them himself." Al took a long draught from the coffee hoping it would banish the sleepiness he still felt. "So, who's gonna be babysitting today?"

"I arranged it so I could stay home. You want me to make some breakfast?"

"No," Al answered finishing the cup of coffee and getting up to refill it. "You don't have go to any trouble. Some cereal will be fine."

"It's no trouble," Mark said as he also got up. "I'd do it anyway for Steve and me. So I'll just drop in a couple more eggs and bacon."

Hearing that he wasn't going to be an imposition, Al agreed that the breakfast would be appreciated.

As Mark started breakfast preparations, Steve walked into the kitchen. "Good morning, Dad…Al."

"Morning, Son," Mark answered turning from the stove. "Coffee's done and breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

As Steve moved to the coffeepot to pour a cup, Sam walked into the kitchen. "I thought you were sleeping," Al said in surprise as he started to get up.

Steve looked over to where his witness was standing inside the kitchen area and took a good look at him. Suddenly, he could see why Al was being so protective of his friend. Dressed as he was in an over-sized t-shirt, with his hair still mussed from sleeping, his pale complexion and dark shadows under his eyes, Sam looked almost fragile and in need of someone to look out for his best interests. As he watched Al take his friend by the arm and solicitously lead him over to one of the kitchen chairs, the beeper at his waist went off. Looking at it, he saw the station number. "Excuse me," he said although he wasn't sure anyone paid attention to him, before moving to the living room to return the call.

"I thought you were supposed to be in bed," Al chided Sam as he helped him over to the table.

"I was thirsty," Sam explained. "I just wanted to get something to drink."

"Well, you could have just called out. One of us would have brought you something."

Mark saw a look of something he couldn't quite place flash briefly across Sam's eyes and it seemed like the younger man had to stop himself from making a response and got the idea this was the hovering they'd both been talking about before. "He probably just wanted a little company," he quickly said to prevent the situation from taking a wrong turn. He poured a glass of apple juice from the bottle in the refrigerator and put it down in front of Sam. "Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes."

"Just a bowl of cereal is fine for me," Sam said as he sipped at the glass of juice. "My stomach's kind of uneasy this morning."

"Always happens when you take those antibiotics, Kid," Al commiserated.

While Mark finished breakfast preparations, Steve came back to the kitchen. "I'll grab something to eat later, Dad. I've got to run. Looks like we might have our first solid lead on this guy." He patted Sam gently on the shoulder. "Hang in there, Sam. We might just get this guy today and it'll be all over."

"What kind of lead?" Al asked, curious.

Steve opened his mouth to start to explain but stopped as he again looked at Sam. It probably wouldn't do him any good to learn that the perp was now tracking his movements. "A good one," he said in answer to Al's question instead. "I have to get going." He didn't give any of the men at the table a chance to ask him anymore before moving quickly to the front door.

"Huh," Al said with a bit of a surprise. He looked over at Mark. "He do that often?"

"Do what," Mark asked curiously? He held two boxes of cereal out to Sam to pick.

"Cheerios are fine," Sam said in response to the cereal choice. "Let it go, Al," he admonished his friend turning to him. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing and maybe he can't tell us anything right now."

Answering Mark, Al nodded to the closing front door, "Rush out like that. It's like, I don't know...like he just clammed up." Hearing Sam's admonishment, he reasoned, "Well I would have understood that. I get need to know, Sam."

"Well, then sit down and eat your breakfast. Would you rather he hang around here explaining instead of following whatever the lead is?"

"I'm sure he'll explain everything when he gets back," Mark added. He brought the box of Cheerios over to Sam along with a bowl.

"Ok," Al said simply. They were both right. It wouldn't do him any good to do anything else. He got up to pour some more coffee. Even after two cups, he still found himself yawning.

As Mark went back to finish his and Al's breakfast, Sam poured some of the cereal in the bowl and added milk to it. "Have you talked to Motts?" he asked as he poked the cereal under the milk with his spoon. "We were supposed to meet with him yesterday but I forgot all about it 'til now."

Al turned around, his face sheepish. "Um...no. I guess I've been thinking of other things. I can call him today, though."

"I want him Al. We need him on the team. His expertise in..." Realizing that Mark was still there and he was coming awfully close to saying more than he should, Sam cut himself off. "We need him."

"Yeah, I know, Kid." If it hadn't been Sam's desire to get the computer whiz on board at the project, they wouldn't have even been in LA and Sam wouldn't have been stabbed. Al knew none of that was Motts' fault. "We don't have to be back to New Mexico for another week but I don't want to set up another appointment until we know the nozzle that stabbed you is off the streets.

"We still need to get in touch with him. He must think we just forgot about him yesterday."

Mark brought plates for Al and him over to the table and sat. "I'm sure whoever this Motts person is must have seen the news. I'm sure he doesn't think you missed that meeting on purpose."

Al nodded. "That's true, unless he doesn't watch TV or read the paper."

"You don't need to be worrying about that," Mark said in a no-nonsense voice. He glanced over to Sam then looked back to Al meaningfully.

"Um...yeah, Sam," Al said. "No need to worry. I'll give him a call."

"Thanks, Al." Sam ate a few more spoonfuls of cereal then pushed the bowl away. "I think I'm going to lie down again."

"Sounds like a good plan, Kid," his friend said. "Maybe when you wake up, Steve will be back with good news."

Sam made his way slowly back to the bedroom he was using. He was ready to get back in bed when he realized that he'd been wearing the same clothes since yesterday morning. He was ready to put on something clean and also take a shower. He knew that with his suitcase on floor and closed, he wouldn't be able to get into it without some help from Al since lifting it would most definitely pull open the wound. He went back to the kitchen to ask Al for help when he was done eating.

Al got up. "I can do it now, Sam."

"No," Sam said waving Al back to his seat. "Finish eating. I can wait."

"It's not a problem, Kid. Clean clothes will make you feel better."

"I said I can wait," Sam reiterated with an edge to his voice.

Mark looked back and forth between the two men. Although it was apparent to him that Al's insistence on helping immediately was frustrating Sam, he didn't think Al was aware of that. He wasn't sure how he could help defuse this situation. He wasn't given the opportunity to try before Sam reached his breaking point.

"Stop hovering over me. Back off and give me room to breath, damn it."

"I was just trying to help, Sam," Al attempted to explain.

Sam cut Al off before he could get very far with an explanation. "No! You're going in some kind of mama bear overdrive just like you always do. Geez, it's just clean clothes but you're acting like if you don't rush and do it now, I'm going to bleed to death."

"Why don't you finish your breakfast and Sam can sit with us until you do," Mark offered trying to reach some kind of compromise between the two men.

Al was about to say he wasn't really that hungry but seeing the look on Sam's face he didn't say it. It would just set the kid off again and from what Mark said earlier, getting Sam upset further wasn't a good idea. Instead, he scratched the back of his ear and agreed. "Ok. That sounds good."

"Ok," Sam also agreed warily. He sat where he'd been sitting earlier. The empty glass from the juice he'd drunk was still there and he picked it up and started toying with it. As he did, he remembered some of the talks he'd had with Verbena. One of the things they'd talked about was that Al didn't hover because he wanted to frustrate Sam but it was because he cared. "I'm sorry," he mumbled looking down.

"It's ok. I should have realized." Al continued to push things around on his plate.

"You just keep doing it," Sam said softly before getting up from the table abruptly. "I'll be in the bedroom."

Al was about to get up when Mark put his hand on his shoulder. "Let me go." The doctor followed Sam back to the bedroom. Knocking lightly, Mark popped his head just inside the door. "Maybe I can help you with those clothes."

"Why does he keep doing it?"

Mark shrugged a little. "I'm not sure he knows he's doing it." Moving a little closer to Sam he added, "He's worried about you."

"Yes, he does. We've talked about it so many times but he keeps doing it. He keeps right on excusing anything I do. He never tells me I'm just wrong and...and..." he trailed off as he gathered his thoughts. "It makes me feel like he's just humoring me or something. I shouldn't have snapped at him like that."

"No," Mark agreed, "but you were frustrated and it's understandable." Mark considered his next words, "You look in a mirror lately?"

"You don't understand, Dr. Sloan. He does that all the time and it makes me feel like I'm a little kid again." He scrunched his forehead in confusion as Mark's question penetrated. "What's a mirror got to do with this?"

"You're not looking too well. I think Al might be backing down now 'cause he thinks that saying anything might hurt you more. I can't speak to the other times."

"It hurts more when he does things like this." Sam looked down and started playing with a fold in the blanket. "I feel like he doesn't respect me or something when he doesn't answer back like that. Like, if he doesn't just agree with me he thinks I'll have a temper tantrum or something." He looked up into the doctor's kind eyes. "Other than my family, Al's the most important person to me and I feel like if I don't have his respect," he shrugged one shoulder. "It would be as bad as if I didn't have Mom's." He looked down again.

"I don't think you have to worry about his respect for you. That comes across in spades," Mark answered. "And there are times you are rather mercurial, Sam."

"So you're saying this is my fault?" Sam challenged as his head snapped up. "Just because I want him to tell me if I'm wrong instead of patting me on the head like a good little boy, that makes it my fault?"

"No. That's not what I'm saying." The doctor took a deep breath. "Like I said before, I don't know what happens or why at other times. I can just speak to what I've witnessed. Right now, Al's not going to push back. He knows I want you to rest and that seems to be coloring how he's acting today."

"I want him to push back." Sam's voice took on a slightly desperate quality. "If he pushes back, then that means things are ok...or they're going to be ok. If he won't push back, it's because something's wrong. I just want normal."

"And I'm sure the Admiral wants normal too." Mark paused. "Both of you are seeing things at odds. I can talk to Al if you'd like."

"No," Sam said with a small shake of his head. "I know you mean well but I don't think that would help." A small snort of laughter broke free. "Al says I'm stubborn but he can out-stubborn me any day. If he's decided he has to treat me like I'm made of blown glass today, nothing's going to change his mind short of a nuclear explosion and even then, he'd just throw his body over me to shield me."

"Then will you let yourself rest? I'm sure Al will be more 'normal' if you heal a little more."

"Yeah. I'd still like to take a shower and put on clean clothes." Sam ran his hand over his face feeling the stubble on it. "Shave, too. At least then maybe I'd feel a little more human."

"Well, I think that's a good plan. It'll help you rest better." He turned to the suitcase. "What do you want me to pull out for you?"

"Let Al do it." When Mark turned a questioning look at him, Sam explained, "If I want him to stop humoring me, I need to humor him for a while and let him take care of me."

Mark nodded. "Ok, if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll make Al feel better and if he feels better, he won't try to wrap me up in bubble wrap."

Mark gave Sam a smile. "You know him better than I do. I'll send him in."

When Mark opened the door to walk out of the room, he noticed Al at the end of the short hall. The man had obviously been coming towards the room Sam was occupying but when he saw Mark he suddenly turned back. Al, realizing he'd been seen, turned around and made a stumbling explanation. "I was…uh…just…uh…coming to ...um...check…you know…" His body language showed embarrassment but also concern.

Mark held up a hand stopping Al from talking. He pulled the door shut behind him and ushered Al back to the kitchen and out of Sam's hearing. "You were checking to make sure he was ok because you're worried about him." He looked at Al daring him to tell him he was wrong.

"Yeah, I was," Al said with a sigh. "You seemed to be taking a long time. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything," he quickly went on to explain. "I just wanted to make sure nothing was really wrong."

Mark poured another cup of coffee for himself and Al then sat at the kitchen table. "Do you know you scare him?" he asked out of the blue.

"Scare him?" Al asked in surprise. His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. "Sam's scared of me? Did he tell you that?"

"No, not in so many words and not in that way." Mark worked to hold back a smile at Al's surprised reaction. "He's honestly afraid that if he does something wrong, he's going to lose your respect and you as well. I think that's why he was pushing at you the way he was earlier. He wanted you to tell him he was wrong and when you didn't…" he shrugged slightly. "When you just brushed off his apology, it seemed to him like you were brushing him off.

Al seemed shocked by the concept. "Brush Sam off? I'd never do that. He's my best friend."

"I'm sure that's not what you meant to do, Al. That's the way Sam perceives it, though." Mark bit at the inside of his cheek trying to decide just how much of the conversation he'd had with Sam he should share with the man across from him. He was used to being bound by doctor patient confidentiality but this wasn't quite the same thing. Still, when he'd offered to talk to Al for Sam, Sam had said he shouldn't. "You care about him a lot. You're like a second father to him." He waited to see what kind of response that would generate.

Al looked to the side. "Verbena told me the same thing." Knowing that Mark wouldn't know what he was talking about he explained, "She's our doctor on staff where Sam and I work." He didn't think he needed to add she was also a shrink. "She said that I treat Sam like he was my son."

"Ah, Dr. Beeks, I presume." Seeing Al's surprised look, Mark added, "Sam mentioned her yesterday."

"Sam told you about Verbena?" His head tilted and eyes grew questioning. "What did he say about her?"

Again, Mark weighed how much he should share. "He was talking with me yesterday and when he apologized for using me as a sounding board, I told him it was probably because something was weighing on his mind. He told me I sounded like Dr. Beeks and that he was..." He paused trying to remember exactly what Sam had said. "He said she was helping him work through some stuff. I assumed she's a psychiatrist or psychologist."

Al took a breath and let it out. "Well, she is a psychiatrist but I haven't talked with her in that capacity. Not really. She just has pointed out that my protective nature is sometimes pretty obvious." He turned aside slightly. "It's just that Sam's got to be one of the best I've ever met."

"Best what?" Mark asked feeling as if he'd missed something.

"Best friend, best person…just best," Al started, "I know you've only known us a few days but if you get to know Sam better, you'll see it. It's like you said last night. Sam has a need to do the right thing. But that's not all. He's also one of the most brilliant people I've ever worked with and I've worked with some of the most incredible people. For Sam, it's like this," he said pointing to his head, "and this," he said putting his hand over his heart "are intertwined deeply."

Mark smiled at Al's description of Sam. In the man's description, he could hear the fondness and caring he had for his younger friend. "I've been getting the feeling the last couple of days that he's one of a kind. You're holding too tightly to him, though."

"I'm afraid if I don't, something will happen to him and let me tell you, since the day I met him, it's like fate or something is doing it's best to put roadblocks in his way." He thought about Weitzman. "And sometimes it's not fate but other people."

Mark took a sip from the cup before asking, "Do you think smothering him is the answer? Isn't that putting a roadblock in his way too?"

Al rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not trying to do that. I guess I do get carried away sometimes but you see how it is. You said he needs rest and God knows he does. You can see it in his eyes."

"He does need rest but to achieve that, he needs to not be under stress." Again Mark carefully chose how much of the conversation to share. "He needs things to be as close to normal as they can be if that's going to happen. From what he told me, as long as you're treating him like he's made out of glass; he's not going to feel that way. He was pushing you for a reason."

"What do you mean?" Al asked.

"He wants you to let him know that things are going to be ok." Seeing that his answer only added to Al's confusion, Mark tried to explain differently. "If you were home and nothing was wrong, what would you do if Sam snapped at you and raised his voice like he did earlier? Would you just excuse him for doing it or would you call him on it?"

"That's different. I mean, Sam sometimes gets sick but it's not like being stabbed and almost dying." He thought back a few months to when Verbena came onto the project. Sam had another close call then. Still, since then nothing really bad had happened until they had come to LA. "There, if I didn't call him on things, well, I wouldn't be much of a friend."

"What makes it so different now?" Mark decided to draw on his own experiences as a parent to try to get Al to understand what Sam was looking for. "One of the things my wife and I learned about the kids was that if we at least pretended things were ok even if they weren't, then, for the kids, it was ok. Sam's testing his boundaries with you right now. He wants you to let him know that things are ok but when you're acting differently than you would under other circumstances, then, at least to him, that means things aren't ok and might not be."

"You're saying that Sam gets his ballast from how I'm acting?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. He just doesn't know how to tell you that."

Al considered that. "And you're telling me that medically I won't hurt Sam by pushing back?"

"Only if you plan on pushing him down the stairs."

Al grinned, "No. That won't happen. Ok, Mark, I'll try not to treat him any differently than I normally do."

As Al finished his coffee got up to go back to Sam's room, Mark called after him, "Loving them is the easy part. It's learning to let go that's hard."

"Yeah. I'm finding that out," Al called back. He continued down the hall and knocked on Sam's door. "Kid?"

"Come in," Sam called out as soon as he heard the movement outside his door. "I thought you weren't coming it took so long."

"Um...yeah. Mark and I talked a little bit first."

Sam's head snapped up at that. "I asked him not to. Doesn't anybody ever listen to me?"

Al looked over to Sam. "It's not that big of a deal and it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before for the most part." He went over to the suitcase, "Now what did you need?"

"It is a big deal." Sam got up from the bed and started to pace the small area. "I'm so tired of everybody just ignoring me like what I say or think or feel doesn't matter." He stopped pacing and threw his hands in the air before sitting on the bed again. "Oh, what's it matter, you're not going to bother listening to me now. Why don't you just pat me on the head, give me a lollipop and tell me I'm a good little boy. It's about the only thing you haven't done."

"Can it, Sam. Ok, I know I've let the papa bear side come out a little strong the last few days, but I never treated you like a two year old." He shot Sam a sardonic look. "Course if you start acting like one..."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't used to getting this kind of reaction from Al when things weren't at their best. He'd been expecting Al to do his best to mollify him as he usually did. He looked up at Al, his mouth opening and closing a few times but nothing came out. "What?" he finally managed.

"You heard me," Al finished. He turned to the suitcase again so that Sam couldn't see the grin he was fighting coming to his face. "Now what do you want from the suitcase. If I remember correctly, you wanted a clean set of clothes. I could pick them out myself but you probably wouldn't appreciate the combination although there's not much to work with here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam said numbly. "It doesn't matter as long as it's loose." He was still looking at his friend in surprise. "You yelled at me," he said in wonder.

"I didn't yell," Al stated as he rustled through the suitcase. "I was just responding to your nosedive into what seemed to be the beginning of a pity party." He threw his hands up. "Sam, I think what you have on is the only thing loose save a pair of pajamas. I can go get you something at the store."

"No, you don't have to do that. Give me the pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. I can make due with that." Sam was still trying to figure out why he'd finally gotten such a different reaction from Al. "Why now? You never," he was going to say yell again but realized Al was right. He hadn't raised his voice. "You never head me off and I hate that. Why now?"

"Because, Kid, I don't want to be the cause of more stress for you. I want you to get better." When Sam started to open his mouth to say something more, Al put up his hand. "I know, you've asked me to stop hovering before but you looked so...I don't know...not yourself, that I was worried that if I said anything you'd get worse. Mark said you're stronger than you look and before you tell me you're a doctor too, just remember how many times you've chosen to ignore good medical advice when you refer to yourself." Al handed him the clothes he'd asked for and a clean pair of underwear.

"I guess it's a good thing he didn't listen to me, then." Sam accepted the clothes handed to him. This sudden change in Al's temperament still had him of kilter a little bit. "I'm just gonna…I'll take a quick shower." He started to walk out the door but stopped and looked back. "I know you do it because you care, Al." He looked down to the floor then back up. "Thank you," he said in rush before going out the door.

Al shook his head with a smile as Sam dashed out. He knew the kid couldn't hear him but he said, "You're welcome" anyways.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

After Sam had his shower and had shaved and put on the fresh clothes, he went back out to the living room where Al and Mark had just finished cleaning up after breakfast. He told both of them that he was still tired and went back into the bedroom. The morning progressed, Mark catching up on some reading and Al calling Mott's.

As Mark predicted, Motts had heard about Sam's injury and asked how he was. Al told the scientist that he was on the mend but that it might be a few more days before they'd be able to reschedule. Motts told him that the delay was expected and that he hoped that Sam would be better soon. He let Al know he'd just need a day or two's notice to set another appointment up.

Deciding to make the beef stew that Sam liked for lunch, Al spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Amanda showed up just before noon to get the blood samples that Mark wanted tested. She put her purse down next to the couch and laid the newspaper she'd picked up on the table beside the couch. Asking where Sam was, Mark told her he'd been resting but that it was okay to wake him up to get the blood samples. Carrying the phlebotomy kit, she went down the hall to Sam's room and knocked softly.

Not hearing anything, she pushed the door open slightly. Seeing that Sam was still asleep, she sighed but walked over to the bed. Mark had said the samples were important and she had a job to do. Putting her hand onto his shoulder, she shook gently. "Sam?"

When Sam felt the shake, he moved away slightly. "Leave me alone, Al," he murmured. "I'm sleeping."

"It's not Al," she said with a kind voice. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I've got to play vampire."

"Huh?" Sam rolled over and opened his eyes so he could see who was waking him. "Amanda? What are you doing here?"

She held up the phlebotomy kit. "I need to take your blood. Mark wants some new lab tests run. Nothing to worry about. Standard procedure."

"Sure." Sam pulled himself up and sat against the headboard. Despite her assurances, he knew Mark wasn't having standard labs done. He'd been running a low grade fever for 24 hours now. This was to make sure there was no infection. "Would it be easier to do this out in the living room?"

She considered his question. At the hospital, the beds were set up to allow the medical staff to do what they needed to do. Here, it was a little more difficult. "Well, it would be easier but I don't want to put you into any discomfort."

"It's not a problem." Sam slowly got up from the bed. "The light's probably better out there anyway." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I'd prefer if you do this where the light's good. I hate being a pincushion."

"Sounds like you've been through this a lot." She recalled the conversation she'd had the day before with Al. She put her hand out and put it on his shoulder. "I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The two moved to the living area. As Sam went over to the couch, he noticed Al in the kitchen chopping and cooking. "You just couldn't stay out of there, could you?" he asked his friend with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Hey, I'm making Ruthie's beef stew. The kind you like. I can stop if you want."

"No, don't stop on my account." Sam had always favored Al's beef stew. He'd even admitted once that it was probably better than the beef stew his mother made and he never passed up an opportunity to have it. While Amanda pulled out what she'd need to draw the blood, he picked up the newspaper on the side table. He quickly scanned the headlines and front page story before tossing the paper to the side and turning on the couch so he could see his friend. "When were you planning on telling me," he demanded.

Al looked up at the change of inflection in Sam's voice. "What? Tell you what, Sam?"

Sam picked up the newspaper again and held it so that Al could see the front page. "This. When were you going to tell me that he'd killed someone else?"

"Oh, that," he said, squirming uncomfortably. "Well...um...I..."

Amanda looked between Sam and Al, but didn't say anything, not sure what to say.

Mark, who was sitting in the armchair next to the couch, reached out his hand. "Can I see that, Sam?"

Wordlessly, Sam handed the paper over so that Mark could see it.

Amanda looked over to Al and shrugged in apology. She'd had no idea when she put the paper down that Sam didn't know about the latest killing or that it would upset him the way it seemed to.

"Did you know about this, Al?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. Steve told me last night." He looked at Sam. "I was going to tell you this morning and then Steve said there was a lead and it might be over soon. I was going to wait until we heard from Steve again."

"You still should have told me." Sam could feel himself on the verge of losing his temper again. He drew a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly. "Every time you try to hide something," he continued calmly, "I end up finding out. Wouldn't it make more sense to just tell me?"

Mark turned to Al. "In this case, I agree with Al. Knowing about this would be more likely to upset you just like learning about the girl's murder caused you to sleepwalk and based on what Steve said today, it may be a moot point."

Turning his gaze to his doctor he responded, "It still makes no sense to hide it." Sam looked over to Al again. "Don't you see, Al? This is what always happens. You hide things from me and then I find out and we argue. Is it really worth it?"

Al came into the living from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. "Yeah. Sometimes it is worth it. Sometimes it's better if you aren't right up to date on everything."

"So you like arguing?" Sam barely glanced at Amanda when she took his arm and pushed his sleeve up to draw blood. "I'm stressed out either way, aren't I?"

"He's got a point," Amanda offered. "Just a little stick now," she warned Sam before piercing his skin with the needle.

"No. I don't like arguing," Al countered. "And that's the point. You take on stress like a snowball takes on more snow. Sometimes it's better to try to limit the size of the avalanche."

"You're not limiting it. All you're doing is delaying it." Sam was doing his utmost to remain calm and reasonable. "If you just tell me straight, it would be better than finding things out this way." He picked up the paper again and waved it in Al's direction.

Al figured that having this discussion in front of an audience wasn't a good idea. "I don't want to talk about this now, Sam." Al started back into the kitchen.

If it weren't for the fact that Amanda was still drawing blood from him, Sam would have gone after Al. He had to settle for calling after him instead. "Come back here!"

"You heard me, Sam. I don't want to talk about it now." Al started chopping the vegetables again and now the sound was sharper against the cutting board.

Sam waited impatiently until Amanda finished and taped gauze over the puncture. As soon as she was done, he moved into the kitchen. "You don't want to talk about it so that's it? How come when I don't want to talk about something we keep going at it anyway?"

When Al kept resolutely cutting the vegetable, Sam bent down a little trying to catch his eye. "Al? Stop cutting those and talk to me."

Al looked up at Sam. "What?!" he asked annoyed at Sam's tone as his friend stated his name and hadn't stopped his last stroke. The blade caught his finger and he winced, grabbing the towel again and wrapping it around the offending finger. "Damn it!

Sam sprang into action as soon as he saw the knife cut into Al. He reached across the counter grabbing Al's hand so he could see how much damage there was. Unwrapping the towel to do so confirmed his fear that the cut wasn't superficial as the blood continued to seep out quickly. He wrapped it back up holding it tight. "Darn it, you probably need stitches. Dr. Sloan," he called over his shoulder. "Al's cut himself."

Al tried to pull his hand back. "It'll be ok. I've cut myself before."

"And I've heard bad news before," Sam said raising his eyebrows. "That didn't stop you from not telling me so I'm going to make sure you're taken care of."

Both Amanda and Mark moved to where the altercation had occurred. Mark, nodding to Al's wrapped hand, stated, "Better let me see that."

Al looked down at the towel. Even holding where he'd cut himself, the red stain was spreading. He pursed his lips but held out his hand. "Ok," was his simple answer.

Mark carefully peeled the towel away so he could see the area that had been injured. As soon as he did, the bleeding started again harder. He quickly wrapped it back up and squeezed. "That's going to need stitches." He knew getting Al treated was going to present a problem of logistics but right now there was only one clear plan he could see – although both of the other men were going to balk at it. "I'll stay here with Sam. Amanda, you drive Al to the hospital and get his hand taken care of."

"What?" Al asked. He started shaking his head. "I'm not leaving until Steve's back." He may have felt that he had to be there but if stitches were necessary to address his careless actions, then he expected to have someone in the house that could prevent anyone from hurting Sam. He might not see eye to eye with Steve on everything, but he knew he'd do his job.

"Al, there's no choice. That hand needs to be taken care of," Mark said in as no-nonsense a voice he knew to use. It was the same one he'd used on his children when they were growing up. "There are police outside and it's their job to keep Sam safe."

"I'm not staying here," Sam chimed in almost in an effort to further complicate things. "I'm going to make sure he's taken care of."

Amanda tried to help. "Sam, I'll make sure Al's taken care of. The ER staff is excellent at Community General. You don't have any complaints about your care, do you?"

Al looked over at Mark. "Yeah. That's just it. They're outside. What if they miss him? What if he gets in?"

"I need to go with him," Sam insisted. "It's my fault. I need to make sure it's taken care of right."

Al looked over to Sam. "It's not your fault, Kid. I was being stubborn and not looking at what I was doing."

Amanda again tried. "What could you do, Sam? There's nothing you could do there and it would make protecting you even more difficult."

"I shouldn't have forced you. You didn't want to talk. I need to learn when to let go of things."

Mark put his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Sam, it's not your fault. Let's us take care of Al and you." He turned the younger man around slightly to face him. "It's going to be ok. Amanda will make sure Al gets the best care and we can keep you safe here."

"That's just it. Without police protection in the..." Al was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.

"Without what police protection?" Steve asked sure that the loud voices he'd heard as he walked in had something to do with Al's criticism of his safe house setup.

"There. Steve's here now. Let Amanda get you to the hospital." Mark said; glad that the Admiral's concern could be addressed.

"Not without me." Sam looked stubbornly from Al to Mark. "I'm going with him. You can't stop me."

Steve moved closer to the group and then saw Al holding up his hand wrapped in a bloody towel. "What the hell happened here?" Hearing Sam's words he turned to him, shaking his head. "No way. You're not going out to a public place like the ER without some serious protection. What part of safe house aren't you getting?"

Amanda licked at her lips. "Al had an accident with a kitchen knife while he was preparing something. He's cut pretty deep and he needs stitches. He wouldn't leave until you got here."

"He wouldn't..." Steve started in surprise.

Sam looked at the four other people. "I'm not staying," he said softly, his voice unsure. "I have to stay with Al." He looked over to his friend looking for support from him. "Tell them, Al. Tell them I have to stay with you."

Al looked over to Sam. "No, Kid. You need to stay here." He turned to Steve. "I'm assuming that since you don't want Sam out in public that the nozzle's still on the loose?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Unfortunately that's true. We have a small lead though. Another person has ID'ed him. We have him at a safe house now too. Not making that mistake again." It was obvious that the girl's murder had hit the detective hard.

Once Al turned away from him, Sam slipped away from the group of people and went back to the couch in the living room. He was barely aware of the others talking. Al had always stayed with him whenever something happened but now when it was the older man who needed help, he didn't want Sam to be with him.

"Yeah." Al agreed. He turned to Amanda, "If I've got to leave let's get started cause I want to get back here ASAP." He turned towards where Sam had been standing, "Sa...." He stopped, realizing his friend wasn't there anymore. He looked around and saw the kid in the living room, a look on his face that he'd seldom seen. "Give me a minute, Amanda." He started into the living room himself, still holding the towel around his hand.

"Hang on a second." Mark pulled another towel from the drawer and swapped the towel that Al had been using that was now covered in blood for the clean one.

After getting the new towel in position, Al moved to the living room, "Ah, Kid. Don't look like that. I'll only be gone for a little while. I'll be ok."

"Why don't you want me to go with you? You always go with me. Why can't I take care of you like you take care of me?"

Al sat down in the chair next to the sofa. "This is different, Kid. If you went and something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. Here, I know you'll be safe. That'll help me a lot more than you being beside me for a few stitches."

"Ok," Sam agreed reluctantly. "I don't want to but if it's what you really want me to do, I'll stay here." He looked at Al with sad eyes. "You promise you'll be ok."

"Yeah, I'll be ok, Sam." He paused. "If things were different, I'd even ask for you to be the one to put the stitches in." A few years before, Sam had had to use his skills to stitch up an injury. He remembered how efficient but gentle Sam had been.

Sam raised his hand so that Al could see the minute tremors in it. "I don't think you'd want me putting in any sutures right now." He tried to smile conveying to Al that he'd be ok – that things in general would be ok – but it was shaky at best.

Al smiled. "Yeah, maybe not." He stood up.

The group by the kitchen couldn't help but overhear the two men talking. Amanda looked over to Mark in confusion

Mark said softly, "Sam's a doctor, Amanda."

"But physics doesn't..."

"No. But medical school does."

Al had turned around, missing the short conversation between Mark and Amanda. "Ok. I'm ready to go." He looked over to Steve. "I'm counting on you."

Once Al and Amanda left, Steve went into the kitchen. Seeing Al's beginnings for stew, he decided he'd try to help and finish. He didn't get far before Sam was right behind him. "Al was making stew for me. He knows how I like it." The way he spoke left no doubt about how he felt with the other man continuing with the cooking.

"Ok, ok. I wasn't going to do anything with it. I'll just put it away until he comes back." Seeing that his words had appeased Sam, Steve gathered up the food on the counter and returned it to the refrigerator except for the portion that Al had bled on. "Dad, you got a second? I want to show you something downstairs," he said once the food was put away.

Mark looked over to Sam. "Will you be ok? We'll just be downstairs and can hear you call."

"Yeah." Sam looked for the remote and found it on the coffee table. "I'll just watch TV, if that's ok."

"As long as you're resting, that's ok. I don't want you pushing yourself," he said with a smile. He nodded his head to a cabinet. "If you want to watch a movie, I've got a few in there."

Sam went over to the cabinet Mark had indicated and looked at the movies there. The first one he saw was _Mary Poppins_. "Wow, I haven't seen this since I was a kid," he commented holding the movie so Mark could see it.

Mark smiled. "That's certainly a classic. Good songs. It was one of my children's favorites when they were young. They thought the chimney sweep looked like me."

"Really?" Sam carefully studied the doctor. "Yeah, I guess maybe a little around the eyes."

"Well, I might do a little singing and dancing at times but I think medicine will remain my calling." He paused, "Although I do agree with the medical advice in the show." When Sam looked at him confused, he clarified, "A spoon full of sugar does help the medicine go down."

Sam laughed lightly and nodded his head in agreement. "You're a good doctor, Dr. Sloan," he said seriously. Putting down the video he moved closer to where Mark was standing. "I guess I haven't really thanked you for how well you've taken care of me, have I?"

Mark smiled. "It's been my pleasure, Sam. At the risk of understatement, your trip to L.A. hasn't been a fun trip for you."

"It could be worse, I guess." Sam picked up the video once more and put it into the VCR. "At least I didn't die this time."

"You mentioned that before. What...?" he started when Steve's came back up the stairs and interrupted him.

"You coming, Dad? Sam's ok, isn't he?"

Mark turned towards Steve. "Sam's fine and I'll be right with you, son." He went back to his conversation with Sam. "I'd like to hear more about that, Sam, but Steve obviously needs me now."

"Go on, Dr. Sloan. I'm ok up here. I'll just sit on the couch and watch the TV."

Mark nodded and started down the steps. He could see that Steve was pacing, working off some nervous energy waiting for his father. Mark called to him, "What's up?"

Steve waved his father down the stairs when he was closer he told him, "I don't want Sam to hear our conversation."

Mark's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean? Did something else happen." He lowered his voice to make sure Sam didn't overhear. "There wasn't another killing was there?" He glanced in the direction of the stairs. "I don't know how he'd take that news. I thought he and Al were going to come to blows when he read about the latest one in the paper."

"Yeah. I gathered there was some tension," Steve acknowledged. He sighed. "No, no more killings, thank God. But the lead turned out to be the desk clerk at their hotel. After the last robbery and murder, the perp tracked down Sam's hotel. The desk clerk told him that Sam and Al checked out" He looked up at his father, his eyes concerned. "We're not sure how he did that. Right now we have the desk clerk in protective custody as well." He paced. "We tried to suggest that to the Michaels but they outright refused saying Katie hadn't seen anything. They thought she was safe." His face dropped. "I should have insisted but I didn't realize how far this bastard would go."

Mark rubbed at the back of his neck and blew out a breath. "You didn't want to say anything in front of Sam?" The way he said it was as much question as it was statement.

"No. This investigation keeps getting deeper and deeper and I don't want to worry him needlessly. Before I left today I really noticed how he looked. Tried to see him not just as my witness but as a man whose life could be on the line. I think I'm beginning to understand Al's concern about him."

"You know what they say, looks can be deceiving. Sam's a lot stronger than I think any of us are giving him credit for." Mark pursed his lips thinking about their best course of action. "Let's not make any quick decisions with this right now, though. I think if we hold on until Al gets back and then tell both of them at the same time that might work out for the best. Although, I wouldn't be too surprised if Sam still gets a little peevish."

"Yeah" Steve bit at his lip. "We've got to get this guy, Dad. The body count just keeps rising. We're doing everything we can think of but it's like trying to catch dry sand in your hands. Even when you think you're getting a grip on things, it seems to slip away."

"You'll get him. I've got no doubt. Now let's go back upstairs and make sure Sam's ok."

Steve nodded and followed his father up the stairs. The movie had started and the new nanny known as _Mary Poppins_ was in the process of teaching the children how fun it was to clean up their rooms. He stood there and watched it for a few minutes and then went to sit down in the chair. "Geez, I haven't seen this in ages. Special effects were pretty good for back then."

"Hmm? Yeah, I guess so." Sam replied distracted. Although he was looking at the TV, he wasn't really watching it.

As Steve looked over to the man, his forehead crinkled slightly. "Something wrong, Sam?" Realizing how ridiculous that might sound he added, "I mean something we're not aware of?"

"Huh?" Sam looked over to Steve processing the question he'd been asked. "Um, no. Guess I'm just not interested in watching anything right now." He got up from couch and went over to stand by the sliding glass doors that led out to the deck. He looked out longingly at the beach. "Can I go outside?"

"We don't know where the man who wants to kill you is. I know he's probably not anywhere near here, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"I thought if I just sat on the deck..." Sam's voice trailed off and he moved away from the glass doors. "I feel like I'm a prisoner."

Mark had watched his son trying to connect better with Sam. He knew that Steve often put his job as protector of the peace in the foreground. Ever since he'd been a little boy, he'd tried to make sure that things were as they should be. Coming from a family where law enforcement was almost a family business, it was understandable. He waited to hear how Steve would answer.

"I could reconfigure the team to have a tighter patrol. Then you could sit out on the deck. But you'd need to wear sunglasses and a hat."

"Ok," Sam quickly agreed eager for the opportunity to get out at least for a little while. "Anything if it means I can get some fresh air."

"Give me a few minutes."

Mark watched his son go into action, calling the team and resetting the parameters for the safe house operation. He then went downstairs, telling Sam to wait until he got back.

"You know, he's just doing what he needs to keep you safe," Mark said by way of explanation after his son left the room.

"Yeah, I know," Sam agreed. "It doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?"

"No. You don't have to like it but I just don't want you projecting those feelings onto him."

"I'm not projecting anything." Despite his words, Sam realized that's what he was doing. So far Al and to a lesser extent Steve had been the ones to take the brunt of his frustrations. "Ok, maybe I am a little," he admitted with a small sigh. "I don't mean to. Just..." he started to pace in front of the doors. "I just hate feeling like I'm cooped up."

Before Mark could respond, Steve returned from downstairs with pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses and an LA Dodgers hat. "I figure that even the paparazzi would have a problem with knowing who you are." He held out the items to Sam.

"Thanks." Sam slipped the sunglasses on then pulled the hat low on his head. "So, I can sit outside now?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid I still have to limit you to the deck. I'll go out with you to start and point out the others on the safe house team. If you see anyone else that seems to be hanging around, you'll need to come in immediately and point them out to me. I'll be just inside the door, watching. I'm sorry to have to put such limits on something as innocuous as getting a breath of fresh air, but..." He trailed off.

"Yeah, I know," Sam said resigned. "You're only trying to keep me safe."

Steve nodded but didn't say anything more. The two men went out onto the deck. There was a light breeze blowing and Steve's hair was caught by it. "Over there is John," he said trying not to be too obvious about his movements. "You see?"

"Guy in the blue windbreaker? Yeah, I see him."

"Ok." Steve turned the other way and nodded towards a woman is a pair of linen pants and a salmon jacket with a cream top. The jacket looked like it might be covering something. "That's Lorraine. I know she's a looker but she's also one of the best shot's on the firing range and a damned fine police officer.

"I'll take your word for it." Sam moved to one of the lounge chairs on the deck and sat down. Looking up at Steve he asked, "Anyone else I need to know?"

"There's two more out in the front but you're unlikely to see them. Vince is about 45, balding, and is wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Pete's in his late twenties, blonde, and is wearing Dockers and a green Izod." He looked at Sam. "All set then? Anything else?"

"No, I don't need anything." Sam looked out at the ocean and the waves lapping against the beach then looked back at Steve as he got ready to go back inside. "Let me know when Al gets back."

"Sure." Steve turned to go back inside.

As Sam heard Steve go back into the beach house, he settled down. There was a light breeze coming in off the water and the sun was warm on his face. It wasn't quite like sitting outside in the dessert at home but a good substitute. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It felt like a million thoughts started to swirl through his head but he did his best to put them all aside. There'd be time for them later. Right now, he was just going to relax and enjoy being outside. It didn't take long before the sound of the waves lapping against the sand lulled him into a light doze.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The afternoon continued without incident. About 2:00 the sound of the front door opening brought Steve to the fore. He'd been watching Sam sleep since he'd allowed him on the deck. His father had brought a light throw out and covered Sam knowing that it could get a bit chilly even in May.

As the door opened, Amanda's voice sang out, "It's just Al and me. Don't shoot us, Steve." She said it lightly but with just enough force to say she understood the strain her boss's son was under.

Steve looked down and found his hand was on the handle of his gun. He put it down again. "Yeah. No chance of that. I'd hear nothing but grumbling from Dad if I shot one of his best doctors," he said bantering back.

Al followed in behind Amanda. It was clear that even under the current situation, this group was a team. It reminded him of the ease of interactions back at PQL. He held up his hand. "5 stitches."

Amanda smiled. "Yeah. And he barely whimpered once. Tough guy."

Al looked around. He looked towards Sam's room. "Sam sleeping?"

Mark pointed to the sliding doors leading to the deck. "He's outside. I was just going to go check on him."

Suddenly there was a loud sound from the direction of the beach and Steve grabbed his gun and rushed out. "What?!" he questioned as he came out moving protectively in front of his charge.

John called over to him, "Beach buggy backfired. Nothing to worry about."

"Wha?" Sam gasped out startled awake by the noise. He saw Steve standing protectively in front of him and thought the worst. "He's here? He found me?"

Steve shook his head. "Thankfully, no." He swallowed tightly pulling his own emotions back in. "It was a vehicle backfire."

Inside, Al had heard the sound and started forward as well. Mark stopped him. "Let Steve handle it, Admiral."

Al protested, "But Sam..."

"Is being protected by Steve and his team. They know what they're doing."

Al looked to the doorway, wanting to know what was going on. He didn't hear any shooting or other sounds. He nodded tersely to Mark. "Ok." Still he was animated and antsy.

Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked up at the sky. Judging by the sun's position, he'd been outside for a while. "Al back yet?"

"He just got back. He was asking about you."

"Is he inside?" Sam turned in the lounge chair looking back through the sliders and saw Al standing there with Mark and Amanda. His friend looked like he was barely holding himself in place.

Steve grabbed the throw. As he looked back inside, he saw that the Admiral clearly wanted to get to Sam. "I can have him come out here if you'd like."

Sam almost said he'd go in but thought better of it. If he went in, who knew how long it would be before he was able to come out in the fresh air again. "Yeah, would you?"

"Sure. I'll do that now." He went back inside. "It's ok. A dune buggy backfired. Everything's fine." He noticed Al's body going from highly stressed to only on alert. "Sam asked if you'd come out on the deck."

Al nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." Without another word he went to the door and out. As he moved, he schooled his face into a relaxed smile he didn't feel. Even though nothing had happened, the sound from the dune buggy had put in his head the thought of Sam being in grave danger again. "Hey, Kid," he greeted as he walked out. "Hear you got some sea breeze today. Best thing ever for sleeping."

"Are you ok? How'd things go at the hospital?" Sam asked anxiously, ignoring Al's words as he satisfied his own concerns. He sat up straighter and grabbed for Al's bandaged hand. "How many stitches?"

"5 and I'm fine. Amanda stitched me up. She had the cutest assistant wearing a tight..."

"Aaalll..." Sam chastised. "Just once. Just once can't you get through a day without making some kind of...of..."

"What? I'm not married. I can't look and enjoy?" Al knew that as much as the kid protested, this particular song and dance had become almost shorthand that things couldn't be too bad.

"I'm not saying that. It's just that you always have some comment to make. Don't you think it objectifies women in the least?"

"No. It just shows appreciation of the female body. And what a body!"

"Al! Would you just stop it? Geez, just be serious this time, ok?"

"What, Sam?" Al said sitting down, realizing that at the moment the song and dance wasn't doing what he expected. "What's got you wrapped around the axle? You know I just really appreciate women. Always have, always will."

"What's got me..." Sam echoed back. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Gee, I don't know," he continued, sarcasm coloring his voice. "I walked in on a robbery, got stabbed, got the wrong blood transfusion, almost got smothered, the nutcase who caused all this is out there killing people and he'd like to do the same to me. I can't imagine what's got me upset." He shook his head and looked away from his friend back to the ocean. "I guess it's too much to ask of you to be serious right now."

Al blinked a few times. "Oh. That. I thought we were talking about women." At the searing look he got from Sam he continued. "I get all that, Kid. Really. You know what's got you upset has me upset as well. If I hadn't pushed at you to have a little fun at the beach, we wouldn't even be in this mess but that doesn't mean it's going to last forever."

"You didn't push me. I wanted to go for that drive along the beach, remember?" Sam looked up at the sky again. "What time is it? I feel like I've been out here for a while."

"It's about 2:30, Sam," Al said before going back to the discussion. "And yeah, you wanted to go but that was only because I'd been trying to get you to have a little fun since we arrived. I know you're focused and I know you had things to get done, but sometimes you don't exactly stop and smell the roses. Then, when I finally get you to agree, stuff like this happens." Al looked down. "Your bad luck charm again."

"Stop it," Sam said sharply. "Just stop with this bad luck charm stuff. Bad things happen. That's life and I'm getting tired of hearing you blame yourself. Face it Al, you're really not so powerful you can change the way the world goes."

"I never said I was. I know I'm not all that powerful and I wouldn't want to be. All I'm saying is, I pull luck from both sides. Why do you think I like Vegas so much? It's just that the bad luck seems to fall in places and on people I don't want to see hurt."

"No. There's no such thing as good luck or bad luck. It's just a chance, that's all. Now just cut it out with this bad luck stuff. I don't want to hear it again."

"It doesn't matter if I say it or not, Kid. Proof's in the pudding but sure, I won't say it again. You've got my word on it."

"Yeah, the proof's in the pudding," Sam agreed. "How about the funding for the project? The funding that's continued? Who's responsible for that? Or how about the fact that before I met you, I didn't have a real friend I could trust - someone who appreciated me for who I was and not what I could do? How about that? I'd say that's proof plenty that you do more good for me than anything bad you might think."

Al looked at Sam with a grateful grin. "Well, when you put it that way." He paused. "I have to admit, that our friendship means more to me than anything. Without you, Kid, I don't know where I'd be. I guess that's why it scares me when these things happen."

"If it's any consolation, it scares me too." Sam fell quiet for a moment thinking. "We can't change what's happened. I guess the only thing we can do is try to make things different in the future but we might not be able to control that any better. We can only do the best we can...and be thankful to have a good friend to help get through even the bad stuff with."

Al reached his hand out to Sam's shoulder. "Yeah. Good friends." He paused. "So, did anyone finish the beef stew?"

"No. I...uh...think I got a little territorial about it when Steve tried," Sam admitted sheepishly. In his defense he added, "From what Jesse said last night, it didn't sound like he cooked very well."

"Oh, he just needs practice. He's got good culinary instincts."

"I'd still rather you make it. You know I like your beef stew."

"Yeah. I know, Kid." He looked out at the ocean. "You want to stay out here or come in?"

"I guess I'll come in." Sam got up and let Al go in before him. As he went through the door, he gave a last, longing look to the outside. If Steve and Al had their way, he probably wouldn't be outside again until the killer had been caught.

Al went into the kitchen to finish the stew. Steve joined him to see how he did things. In the meantime, Mark and Sam played another game of chess. Amanda, smelling the wafts of the stew as it cooked told everyone that she'd get CJ and come back that night. For the next several hours things almost seemed like two families visiting rather than what it really was. About 5:30, Amanda showed up, bringing a fresh loaf of bread and CJ.

"Am I late?" Amanda asked.

"Not late at all." Mark tickled the little boy in Amanda's arms until he started to laugh. Spying the folder she also carried, he asked, "those the lab results from Sam's blood tests?"

Amanda nodded. "Yeah. I got them from the hospital before picking up CJ." She handed them to Mark.

Mark accepted the folder and flipped it open to read the test results. He pursed his lips as he flipped through the pages.

Al had looked up when he heard that Sam's tests were back. He saw Mark's face and was concerned.

"Could I see them?" Sam asked.

Mark handed the folder to Sam who flipped through the sheets of paper then handed the folder back without a word.

"What. You're going to leave us in the dark? What do they say?" Al asked, unable to hold back his concern and curiosity any longer.

"Everything's within normal ranges except his white blood count. That's elevated." Mark reported.

Al looked at Sam. "That means an infection, doesn't it?"

"That is the most probable cause," Mark answered. "It's not drastically high, though. I think we just need to readjust the antibiotic Sam's on to something a little stronger." He looked over to Sam, "and this time when I say bed rest, I mean it."

"Yeah, Sam. Listen to your doctor."

"Yes, Sir," Sam said looking down. He considered himself lucky that Mark wasn't sending him back to the hospital.

Steve finished setting the table. "Bedrest after dinner though, right?"

"Right," Mark agreed. "He needs to be eating healthy too."

"Good," said Amanda. She'd already fed CJ his dinner before they came over to the beach house so she got CJ set up on blanket nearby with some toys to play with then sat down. This smells really good."

Sam also sat down at the table. "Al's beef stew is the best."

The bowls were served up and Amanda's bread was passed around as well. Steve, Mark, and Al all took their places and once more the camaraderie of the meal kept things light. Before long, the stew pot was almost empty and the bread gone.

Steve sat back. "You weren't kidding, Sam. I think that's the best stew I've ever eaten."

"That's why I keep him around," Sam said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Al smiled a slightly wicked grin. "You telling me the way to your heart is through your stomach?"

Steve spoke up. "Would you mind if I tried to make it sometime?"

Al turned to Steve. "Sure. I'll write down the recipe. It just takes practice. You saw what I did." He turned back to Sam as the kid answered his banter a little more seriously than he'd expected.

"Maybe," Sam answered lightly. "You do make a good substitute for Mom."

"That's high praise, Kid."

"Well, it's the truth." Sam sopped up the last of the stew in his bowl with his last piece of bread. "Think about it. You cook for me, you take care of me when I'm sick, and you've even been known to clean up after me." He smiled mischievously at his friend. "If that doesn't say mother, I don't know what does."

"Yeah...well..." Al turned the conversation, "So, Steve, you said you had a lead earlier. Since Sam's not sprung I guess it didn't pan out."

Steve looked over to his father who nodded slightly. "The lead. Well, the good thing is we have another person who's seen the perp. Can't testify to seeing him commit any crimes, but he can ID him as the same man who Sam described."

Al grinned. "Great!"

"So, if that's the good thing, what's the bad?" Sam asked fatalistically.

Steve took a breath. "He was seen at your hotel asking about you. The lead we have is the desk clerk at the hotel you two were staying at."

"What!" Al exclaimed. "How would he know that? There have to be thousands of hotels in the LA area."

"He found the hotel?" Sam mind was racing with that piece of information and what it could portend. "Where...um...where did they say I was?"

They said they didn't know. That you'd checked out a few days ago."

"Then how did you know..." Al started.

"The desk clerk called us. Right after the guy left, he saw the picture on the TV in the lobby. Recognized him so he called us."

Amanda looked over to Sam. She was about to say something when Mark did.

"Sam? Are you ok?" Mark asked in concern. He noticed how the little color Sam had in his face had drained away.

At Mark's voice, Al and Steve turned their gaze toward the recovering man as well.

"I just...um yeah." Sam squirmed as 4 pairs of eyes were trained on him. "I'm just not used to someone tracking me down to kill me. It takes a little getting used to."

"I don't think anyone should get used to that." Steve voiced.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a sickly smile. Before anyone could speak again, CJ started to cry as the ball he was playing with rolled away from him. Sam looked over to where the little boy was sitting on a blanket and where the ball rolled. "I'll get it," he said as he got up before Amanda could. She'd already gotten up a couple of times during the meal to tend to the child. He wanted to distance himself emotionally - at least for a little while - from any thought of someone killing him and playing with the little boy seemed the easiest way. He retrieved the ball and sat opposite CJ a little ways away and rolled the ball to him. It took the toddler a few seconds to catch on before he clumsily rolled the ball back.

"You don't need to do that," Amanda said, getting up and moving towards the two.

"I want to," Sam said looking up at her. He rolled the ball back to CJ, this time adding a little bounce to it. The child looked in wonder as the ball bounced gently toward him then started to giggle. "Really, I want to play with him," Sam reiterated looking up at Amanda.

Seeing the honesty in his eyes, she smiled. "Ok. CJ really likes you. He doesn't always take to people so quickly."

"Really?" At the impatient sound from the child, Sam rolled the ball back to him again.

"Yeah." She sighed. "You live in LA and you have to be careful. I guess CJ's picked being cautious up from me."

Thinking about the situation he now found himself in, Sam ruefully said, "Yeah, well, nothing wrong with cautious."

Al looked over at Steve and pulled out a cigar. "I think I'll go out on the deck. You want to join me?" Al said it casually but there was a certain request in it too.

"Yeah, sure." Steve caught the way Al slanted a look over to Sam and had a feeling he didn't want Sam to hear whatever it is he wanted to say. The two men moved out to the deck. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked cutting to the chase.

Al took the time to light up his cigar. Looking at Steve, he asked, "Would you like one? They're pretty good. Hand rolled in Miami."

"No thank you." Steve moved to the rail and leaned on it looking out at the ocean before turning back to Al. "You didn't want Sam to hear something. What is it?"

"When we talked last night, I asked you if you could lend me a gun. With what you told us tonight, I wanted to ask you about it again."

"Figured that's what it was. I talked with my captain today. He's not happy about it but he's given authorization for it." Steve turned from the ocean to Al. "I'm still not sure it's such a good idea, though."

"Look at it like insurance. The chances I'll need it are slim and none. I know you have a job to do. It'll just give me peace of mind to know that it's there if it's needed." He took another puff of the cigar. "Sam doesn't need to know about this."

Steve took a quick glance over his shoulder into the house. He could just make out Sam still sitting on the floor playing with CJ. "You sure that's such a good idea? He seems to get upset when you don't tell him things."

"I know but sometimes..." Al stopped, collecting his thoughts. "Sometimes when things aren't likely to happen, he really doesn't need it to worry about. Sam doesn't like handguns. In fact, the only firearm he does like is the one he hunts pheasants with. So, his not knowing I have a gun is probably a good idea. He's happy not knowing about it and I'm happy knowing it's there."

"If you think so but if this blows up in your face, don't say I didn't try to warn you." Steve moved to the sliding door and put his hand on it to open it. "I can loan you my backup. It's downstairs."

"Ok." Al acknowledged. "Mind if I come down with you to get it?"

"If you want to keep this from Sam, do you think that's a good idea? I might not know him as well as you but given how we've been less than chummy, I think he'd find that a little suspicious."

"I have a way to work that out. When we go in, just be talking about a collection of military airplane photos. Doesn't matter if you have any or not. He won't be suspicious at all since he knows I like that kind of thing."

"I've got a better idea. I can go down to my apartment from out here. You stay here and I'll go get it and bring it back to you."

"Works for me," Al agreed. "That way I can finish my cigar as well."

"Ok. I'll be right back." Steve went down the short flight of stairs to the beach level and under the deck into his apartment. He was back in less than ten minutes. "You're sure about this?" he asked one more time when he handed the weapon to Al.

"Yeah. I'm sure." He took the weapon and tested it out in his hand. "Nice piece."

"Just promise me you're not going to do anything stupid with it."

"I promise." He looked at Steve with intensity. "I was in Vietnam. Mostly as a pilot, but I was in some battles as well. I've had to shoot men before, didn't like it then, don't plan to do it now." He paused and then, with a definite calmness, finished, "But if there's no other choice, I will use it."

"Well, I just hope you don't have to."

"You and me both, Steve. You and me both."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Shortly after Al and Steve came back in, Amanda told the men that she had to leave to get CJ home and into bed. After she left, Mark reminded Sam of the need for bed rest but the younger man balked at the idea of going to bed so early. They compromised and Sam settled on the couch to once more try to watch a movie.

After putting the gun Steve had given him in a safe place, Al joined Sam on the couch. The movie was nearing an end when he felt a heavy weight drop onto his arm. Looking down, he saw that Sam had given up the fight and had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

"Ah, Sammy," Al said reflexively.

Mark looked over as Al spoke the endearment. "You really do care about him." Mark observed. It was hard not to see the affection and worry in Al's eyes.

Al nodded. "Yeah." He took a breath. "Sam's more than just a friend." When he realized how that could sound he quickly clarified. "That didn't come out right. What I mean is, if I'd ever had a son, I'd want him to be like Sam." He looked at the sleeping man again. "Sometimes he reminds me of my sister."

Mark looked at Al quizzically at the mention of a sister but said nothing allowing the man to continue or not at his own comfort level.

"My sister, Trudy, was a trusting soul, like Sam," he said by way of explanation.

"It seems that Sam's got a good heart. It's a shame he had to get mixed up in all of this." Mark got up and moved over to where Sam and Al were on the couch and rested his hand gently on Sam's forehead. "I've got the new antibiotic to start him on." After making a call to the hospital, the new medication for Sam had been sent over via messenger. It was the same one he'd been given when he was hospitalized after being hit by the car. The main drawback to it was that there was no oral form.

"That'll take care of the infection?" Al asked.

"It should. I'm more concerned with something else taking hold. This is a much stronger one and it'll go a lot farther in preventing that."

"Good." Al brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. "Earlier this year, he had to have his tonsils out 'cause of all the strep infections he was getting."

"Yes. Sam mentioned that to me. He also said he wasn't very careful following the post-op regimen and he had some complications because of it." As the two men spoke, Sam tried to pull his body into a more comfortable sleeping position. When that failed he made a noise of displeasure but settled back down. "He'd be more comfortable in bed," Mark pointed out.

Al sighed and looked down at his sleeping friend. "I hate to wake him up, but I guess we don't have a choice. Can't exactly carry him."

"Yes, might as well wake him up. He's going to anyway when I give him the injection of the Meropenem." Mark watched a Sam again tried to snuggle into Al's shoulder. "I think I'll leave that to you."

"Coward." Al said but it was plain there was no animosity. He shook Sam lightly. "Sam? Wakey, wakey, Buddy."

"Mmmm...wha..." Sam questioned coming awake quickly. He'd only been in a light sleep and it didn't take much for Al to wake him.

"Doc says you need some antibiotics, Kid."

Sam opened his eyes and peered sleepily first at Al then at Mark. "'M tired of taking pills," he complained.

"Well, I guess you're in luck," Mark told him with a kindly grin. "There's no oral form of the Meropenem I want you on so that means..."

Before he finished the sentence Sam did it for him. "You have to stick me with a needle." He sighed and tilted his head up to see Al. "You woke me for that?"

"Well, I didn't want you to wake up being hit with a needle, Sam."

"How about I sleep and you get stuck instead," Sam offered in compromise.

"No can do, Sam. I'd take a bullet for you, not a shot," Al quipped.

Mark chuckled at the exchange between his two guests. "Why don't you get Sam settled in bed and I'll be in a moment with the meds," he suggested.

"Sounds like a plan. Let's get you tucked in," he said to his sleepy friend.

Sam rubbed at his eyes then peered at the clock on the VCR. "But it's too early to go to bed," he protested.

"That may be, Sam, but you've been prescribed bed rest. The fact that you fell asleep out here shows how tired you are," Al reasoned.

Sam looked at Al without saying anything for just a few seconds. "See, just like Mom," he finally said. "You even boss me around." There was no rancor in his voice, only fondness.

"Well, sometimes that the only way to get you to take care of yourself. Thelma's right. You're a stubborn cuss sometimes," Al said back softly.

"I'm my father's son," Sam responded.

"I'll leave you two to figure this one out while I go get the meds." Mark leveled his gaze at Sam. "I do suggest you listen to the Admiral."

"Yeah, Sam. I might be a marshmallow but I don't think Mark's the type to let you get away with anything."

Sam slowly got up from the couch. "I'm only going to go to bed 'cause I'm tired. If I wasn't, I'd stay up." He took in both of the other two making sure they understood he wasn't caving in to their wishes. He slowly started to walk to the bedroom. "You're no marshmallow," he called back to Al. "You're more like Rocky Road."

Al chuckled at Sam final barb. He knew that the kid might still be fighting both infection and fear, but he still kept his sense of humor. "Pleasant dreams, Sam," he called after him.

"Not gonna tuck me in?" Sam asked turning around so he could see Al. "Mom always tucks me in."

"Yeah. Just want to check on something with Mark. You get started. I'll be there in a minute."

"Get started," Sam mumbled as he continued to the room. "What am I supposed to get started?" As he walked in the room he looked at the bed in dismay. It had never been straightened out after his earlier nap and the sheets were still in disarray. "I guess that's what he meant," he said to himself as he started to rearrange the sheets and smooth them out.

Once Sam had gone into the room, Al turned to Mark who was pulling things out that he needed to give Sam the shot. "Did Steve tell you I'm borrowing one of his guns?"

"He mentioned it. He also said you didn't want Sam to know about it. After what happened earlier with the newspaper, are you sure that's the best choice?"

"Trust me. I tell Sam about this, you'll see his blood pressure go up and he'll fixate on it. You want him to rest? Better he doesn't know. Besides, it's like I told Steve. It's more insurance than anything. Chances are I'll never fire it."

"And if he does find out, he's going to make a Fourth of July fireworks display look like a whimper. I'm not sure this is a very good idea." Mark took a step back to make sure Sam hadn't come back out their way. "You're right, though; he doesn't need any stress heaped on right now."

"I'll risk the 4th of July," Al said dryly. "I do want you to know where I'm putting the gun, though. It'll be on top of the refrigerator behind the cereal."

"I'd rather it not be there but I've got a feeling that's not going to make much difference."

"Well, I want it someplace Sam won't find it and more importantly where CJ won't come across it when he's here."

"That's the reason I'd rather it not be there. The top of a refrigerator is no place for a loaded gun." Mark saw that Al wasn't going to be swayed on this. "Fine, leave it there."

"Thank you." Al paused. "I hope it won't be long that it will be there. I know this is your home. I hope you don't take this wrong, but it's my fervent desire that we're not here much longer."

"I understand what you mean, Al." Having prepared the syringe with the dosage of the antibiotic, Mark capped it until he got to the bedroom. "Let me take care of Sam so he can get some rest."

"Ok. Let him know I'll be in right afterwards."

"Will do."

Mark tapped on the door. "Sam?"

"Come in," Sam called out when he heard the knock.

Mark walked in seeing the younger man pulling the cover's one way and the other. "What are you doing?"

"Just fixing the bed. I left it a mess when I got up earlier." Satisfied that the covers where as neat as they needed to be if he was getting into bed, Sam turned to Mark. "Making the bed never has been one of my strengths."

"I can see that," Mark said with a grin. "I've got your new antibiotic. You know the drill," he said holding up the needle.

"I don't suppose we can talk about where you're going to stick that." Sam eyed the syringe that Mark had in his hand warily. "You know, maybe somewhere where I'm not going to sit."

"Where did you have in mind, Sam?"

Sam grabbed the pillow off the bed and held it up. "How about here?"

"Ha ha." Mark wasn't amused. "You know, they say doctors make the worst patients. You don't have to follow the stereotype you know."

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint." Having put off the inevitable for as long as he could, Sam returned the pillow to the bed then stretched out on it on his stomach. He reached around and pushed his pajama bottoms and boxers down. "Do your worst."

Mark took care of the shot expertly. "Hopefully that will have you feeling better soon."

Sam rearranged his clothes, rolled over and sat up. "I really don't feel bad so I bet we could just skip the rest of the shots." He knew that not only was it unlikely that that would happen, but it was probably foolhardy. Still, it didn't hurt to make the attempt.

"Nice try, Sam. You'll get the next shot in eight hours so enjoy your time in between." He recapped the needle, planning to break it into the sharps container he kept at the house. "I'll send Al in."

"Yeah, he might try to break down the door if you don't." Unlike when he'd been kidding Al earlier about being like his mother, this time Sam's tone didn't convey any humor.

"What do you mean, Sam?" Mark asked.

Sam tried to wave off his words. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything." One look at Mark's face and he knew he wasn't buying it. "I'm just expecting that he'll be returning to his...um…more protective activities, that's all."

"Yeah." He thought about the gun on top of his refrigerator. "I can understand it though. I'd feel that same way if Steve were in your shoes."

"He's your son," Sam pointed. "You're supposed to feel that way."

"But Al feels that way towards you. Like family."

"I know. It's just," Sam struggled to find a way to explain the dynamic of the relationship he and Al shared and how it often time left him with guilt feelings that he was replacing his father - and that sometimes those feelings came out as anger toward Al. "It's complicated," he finally settled on.

"The feeling isn't reciprocal?" Mark questioned.

"Of course it is," Sam quickly responded. "Why would you think that?"

"You seem to resent his actions. Not all the time, but at least some of the time."

"I told you, it's complicated." Sam got up from the bed and started to pace around the room. "I don't resent Al or what he does. Well," he amended, "I don't resent what he does most of the time. Sometimes, it's just a little too close and I feel like I'm losing something important." He stopped his pacing to face Mark. "I don't resent Al, ever. Sometimes, it's almost like I forget he isn't my family and...it's complicated," he said once more with a shrug. He didn't feel comfortable going into detail about the things he'd discussed with Verbena. He was still trying to get a handle on those feelings and knew it wasn't something he could explain to an outsider yet.

Mark watched as Sam became more and more agitated. He realized he'd hit a nerve somehow but wasn't sure why. Sam simultaneously seemed want Al close and yet pushed him away at the same time. "Sounds like it," he said warily

Sam stopped his pacing and sat on the bed. "I must sound like some kind of Looney Tune or something." He huffed out a small laugh. Seeing the quizzical look on Mark's face, he explained, "Al always tells me I'm not a Looney Tune. I'm a Merry Melody. It doesn't make much sense but, it's what he always says."

"Well...I think I get where he's coming from. Merry Melody's were fun. Loony Tunes were just wacky. "

"Still doesn't make a lot of sense but I always laugh when he says it." Sam dropped his voice down conspiratorially. "I think that's why he says it - to make me laugh. He always knows when I need that."

Mark sat on the bed next to Sam and laid a comforting hand on his back. "He cares about you, Sam. I've seen that from the start. He told me if he'd had kids, he'd want them to be like you."

"Al would be a great father. I should know," Sam replied in a soft voice. Louder, he continued, "Do you know he's the only other person besides Mom who can get away with calling me Sammy? I hate that name. It makes me feel like I'm three years old again and Grandma Nettie's gonna pinch my cheeks but when Mom calls me that or Al does, it sounds right." Sam looked away and down as he made the admission. He didn't think he'd ever made it to anyone. "I guess that sounds a little strange."

"Nope. I know that Steve would only let his mother call him Stevie. Her or his great Aunt Kerry."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Sloan. I don't know why I keep telling you all of this stuff." Sam smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he said, "I bet you never thought you'd get all this when you treated me."

"Sam, I've treated a lot of people. Often, it's a cut and dried medical situation. Sometimes, though, it's more than that. This time things are just more in every sense of the word."

"Well, if there's one thing I don't do, it's do things by half-measure."

Mark laughed. "Yeah. That much I've learned." He turned again to the door with a yawn. "I'm turning in. If Al wasn't worried before, he probably is now."

"Well," Sam said dryly, "At least he hasn't broken down the door yet but I bet he'll be standing outside when you open it."

"I guess we'll see." Mark went to the bedroom door and pulled it open.

"So, is he there?" Sam asked when Mark opened the door. At the angle the bed was, he wasn't able to see outside the door.

"Al?" Mark called but there was no answer. "Good thing I didn't take your bet, Sam. You would've lost."

"Where'd he go?" Sam quickly got up from the bed and hurried over to the door. A few times in the past when he and Al had quarreled he'd had the irrational fear that Al was going to walk out on the friendship. The worst had been a few months ago after he'd come home from the hospital after the complications from the tonsillectomy. He'd been convinced after one quarrel that there was no way Al was going to stay around. His fear then had been so overwhelming that he'd been reduced to lying on the couch in a fetal position until Al assured him he wasn't going anywhere. It was after that that he'd started seeing Verbena Beeks regularly.

"I don't know." Mark stepped out of the room and looked around. Through the sliding glass door to the deck he saw someone. Mark nodded in that direction. "I think he's on the deck."

Sam let out a small sigh of relief. "He must be smoking a cigar. I keep telling him they're bad for him but he just doesn't listen."

"Well, until someone's ready to quit, nothing you say will really help."

"I know. Still, he's killing himself slowly. I just don't want to lose anyone else." Sam went back to the bed and sat on the edge of it. "I've lost too many people already," he said sadly. "I don't want to add Al."

"From what I've seen, Al keeps himself in pretty good health. Sure, it would be better for him to give up on the cigars, but if that's his only vice..."

"Now but before," Sam said with a small shake of his head. "I guess I should be happy it's the only one."

Mark wasn't sure what Sam was saying and decided it was too late to get into anything more. "I have to lock up anyways. I'll let Al know we're finished. I'm sure he'll be in."

"Dr. Sloan," Sam called as the doctor started to leave. He pointed to a large canvas carrying case that hadn't been in the room previously. "You mind if I ask what that is?"

Mark smiled. "Oh, that. I figured that if you have another sleepwalking episode, it would be better for Al to have a cot to sleep on. You got a pretty nasty bruise when you hit the dresser."

"Oh," Sam said softly. He was torn between being upset that Al felt the need to sleep in the room with him and comforted that he wanted to.

"Anyways...have a good night, Sam." With that he left the room. About a minute later, Al showed up at the door. "You feeling ok, Kid?"

"Yeah, I guess. Just waiting for you to tuck me in for the night." Sam kept his features schooled to passiveness but there was a definite twinkle in his eye as he spoke. "Maybe I should have brought Bear with me."

"Maybe." Al said. He looked over to the canvas case. "Is that what I think it is? Mark said he'd put a cot in here just in case."

"Yeah, it is." Sam tried to hold back a yawn to no avail. "I don't see how something that fits in there can be comfortable to sleep on." As he spoke, he stretched out on his side on the bed he reached behind trying to snag the covers to pull over his body.

Al walked up to the bed and pulled the covers over Sam. "I'm the one that's supposed to do the tucking, remember?" he said softly. He continued straightening the covers. "Besides, it's all relative. A cot's better than sleeping on the floor."

"Wanna know a secret," Sam asked as he sought for and found a comfortable spot on the pillow. His eyes were at half-mast as sleep was quickly moving over him.

"If you want to tell me, yeah," Al answered.

"Even if I do complain about it and give you grief, I don't mind when you tuck me in." Sam wasn't successful this time holding back a yawn. "It's kinda nice."

Al finished his tasks. "Yeah. Trudy used to say I tucked her in the best." He heard a soft snore emanating from his friend. "Pleasant dreams, Sam. You sure deserve some."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping when he woke. It was dark in the room and he could hear Al snoring on the cot so he guessed it was still night. He was hot and pushed the covers off of his body. He was thirsty, too but he lacked the energy to get up and get something to drink. He lay quietly for a while hoping he'd forget about it and fall back to sleep but that wasn't happening. Although he hated to do it, he called for Al hoping he could get him something to quench his thirst.

Al, had been sleeping lightly, worried that Sam would need him. He sat up as soon as he heard Sam's voice. "Sam? Did you call?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake his friend if it had been a dream.

"Yeah," Sam replied quietly as well. "Can I have something to drink? I'm hot."

"Um, yeah...sure, Kid." He got up and padded out to the kitchen to retrieve the water. He came back in and turned on the bedside light. It was then he saw the sheen on Sam's face. With the hand not holding the glass he felt Sam's forehead. "Damn it, Sam. You have a fever."

Greedily, Sam reached for the glass of water. "Don't feel good," he admitted before drinking the water in gulps. "Can I have more," he asked holding the glass out to Al when it was empty.

Al let out a breath. "Yeah. I'll get Mark, too."

Sam nodded and looked up at Al with sad eyes. Getting Mark wasn't at the top of his list of things he wanted to do - not when it meant he'd most likely be taking a trip back to Community General - but he knew it was the best thing to do at the moment.

"Ah, Sammy, don't look at me like that. You're really sick right now. Mark's your doctor. He should know."

"I know. I just wish you didn't have to." Sam lay back down, curling up on his side. "I don't want to go back to the hospital."

"Well, maybe he won't have you go back there," Al said hopefully. He sighed. "I'll be right back in a minute." He turned to the door. "I'd feel a lot better about things if the guy that stabbed you wasn't so determined." With that he left the room.

Al moved to the doctor's bedroom door. He hated waking the man up but as he told Sam, it was the right thing to do. Tapping on the door he called out, "Dr. Sloan? Mark?"

A few seconds after Al knocked, the door opened. Mark had pulled on his bathrobe and was yawning as he blinked at Al. "Something wrong?" he asked once he'd finished yawning.

"Yeah. Sam's fever's gone up. Even he agreed it was probably good to get you although he's not thrilled about it. He doesn't want to go back in the hospital."

Mark was instantly awake and concerned. "Did he say anything about being in pain?" The doctor stepped back into his bedroom to get his medical bag. "Do you know if he's vomited or did he say anything about nausea?"

"No. Nothing like that. He just says he feels really bad."

"Well, let's see what's wrong with him." Mark followed Al down the hall back to the Sam's bedroom.

Mark settled on the edge of the bed. As Al had done earlier, he rested his hand on Sam's forehead. He blew out a small breath when he felt the warmth. "Well, you're definitely running a fever. You think you can lie on your back for a few minutes so I can examine you?"

"Can I have the water first?"

Mark looked back and noticed Al holding a glass of water. "In a few minutes Sam. I want to examine you first. He pulled up Sam's t-shirt exposing his abdomen. "Are you in any pain?" Sam shook his head no and Mark started to press gently on his abdomen. "That hurting you?"

"No. There's no rebound tenderness." When Mark looked at Sam with raised eyebrows, he added, "I'm a doctor, remember."

"I guess I forgot for a moment." As he pulled back the dressing over the wound checking to see if there was any discharge from it, Mark asked, "Have you been nauseous or vomited?" Again, Sam shook his head

Mark opened the medical bag and took out a thermometer, stethoscope, and blood pressure cuff. He put the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff to the side and shook down the thermometer then held it out to Sam. "Let's see how high that fever is." With the thermometer in Sam's mouth, he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Sam's arm, pumped it up then slipped the bell of the stethoscope under in. "Looks good he said," as he let the air out of the cuff.

Al let out a breath. It was obvious he was watching intently what was going on but he felt under the circumstances his input wouldn't be very valuable.

After enough time had elapsed, Mark took the thermometer out of Sam's mouth and looked at the reading on it. This time he sighed, not as happy by what he saw. "102.7. That's not so great. He pulled Sam's t-shirt back down and stood up from the bed. "You can have your water now," he said as he started to put his equipment back in the bag.

Al handed the water over to Sam and then turned to Mark. "Is Sam going to have to go back in the hospital?"

Mark blew out a long breath. "Ideally, at this point I would move him back to Community General but I'm not sure how feasible that would be from a security standpoint. There's no sign of peritonitis which is my real concern. As long as no symptoms of that show up and he remains hydrated, I think we can manage this from here right now."

"Yeah, you said that could be a problem," Al said. "Hey, Kid, you got your wish. You're not going to go back to the hospital." He turned to Mark. "After that yoyo tried to kill him there, I wasn't really too happy about the prospect either. Felt like Sam was a sitting duck there. No offense to the hospital. I know they were doing their best."

"Well, if that fever doesn't break within 24 hours, we're not going to have a choice. I'll give it that long for the Meropenem to start working. I've got a feeling when I get the rest of the results on the blood tests they'll probably show a staph infection that's causing the fever." He turned back to Sam. "No joking this time. You are not getting out of that bed except to use the restroom until that fever breaks. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam agreed. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to make another trip to the hospital at least right now.

"Staph? How's that different from strep?" Al knew that Sam had been battling the latter for over a year. That's why he needed to have his tonsils yanked. Now staph.

They're caused by different strains of bacteria," Sam explained.

"A strep infection is caused by streptococcus and a staph infection is caused by staphylococcus," Mark further explained.

"Oh. You get rid of one and now another shows up?"

"No," Mark disagreed. "A staph infection is fairly common considering the type of injury Sam has. With the lack of his spleen, he's missing one of his first lines of defense so that makes him a little more susceptible."

"Can we skip the immunology discussion right now," Sam asked. "I'm too tired for it."

Al was about to ask something else but he stopped. "Sure, Kid." To Mark he promised, "I'll make sure Sam doesn't get out of bed if I have to sit on him."

"Well, be careful where you sit on him. I wouldn't want you to damage my handiwork," Mark said with a grin. As he turned back to Sam, the grin faded away. "I'm serious, Sam. You know what happened the last time you disregarded doctor's orders. I don't want anything like that to happen to you this time."

"Yes, Sir," Sam again mumbled. He didn't have to be reminded of what happened last time.

"So, maybe we should get you back to that resting," Al said kindly.

"Great idea, Al. I'm going to let you get back to sleep now." Mark started to move toward the door. "If there's anything else during the night, don't hesitate to get me."

"Right," Al said. "Thanks, Doc. Hope you get back to sleep easily."

After he walked out, Al turned back to Sam and started to smooth out the covers again. "I think he's serious, Kid."

"I'm tired." Sam rolled over and closed his eyes. It was his simple way of escaping the conversation

"Yeah. So you said." Al took the empty glass and went and refilled it, putting it on Sam's bedside table. "Night, Sam."

"I didn't mean to ignore you," Sam said into the quiet that followed Al's wishes for a goodnight. "I just want to forget about that time."

"Yeah. It wasn't very pleasant," Al agreed. "but this time won't be like that. You don't have Weitzman on your butt like then."

"Given the alternative, I think I'd rather have Weitzman than someone trying to kill me." Sam hunched further into the covers that were over him. Where he'd been complaining of being hot a short time ago, now he felt chilled. "Do you know if there are anymore blankets?"

"Yeah. Mark left me a couple of extra ones." He retrieved the blankets and started to lay them over Sam. "Having someone out there that's ready to kill you is a very disconcerting feeling."

"You can say that again." Sam let out an appreciative sigh when Al put the extra blanket over him. "You know how it feels when you're coming down with the flu? That's how I feel right now. Like I got run over by a truck."

"Well, if you follow Mark's advice, you'll get over it sooner."

"I know," Sam said on a sigh.

Al smiled at his friend. "Ok, Sam. Now the best thing for both of us is to get back to sleep." He gave the covers a last straighten, turned off the light and got into the cot. "Night, Sam."

"Night, Al." There was quiet in the room for a few minutes. Sam did his best to fall back to sleep but he was awake now and thinking and that made sleep difficult. Ten minutes later, he whispered, "Al, you awake?"

Al had been lying on the cot, trying to relax enough to sleep. Sam running a fever wasn't helping that much. As a result, he too was still awake.

"Yeah, Kid. Haven't dropped off yet. You need something?"

Even though Al couldn't see him, Sam shook his head. "No, I was just thinking and wondered if you were awake."

"What's going through that noggin, Sam?" Al knew that when his friend got on an idea, it could keep him awake for hours. He didn't need that right now. He figured the sooner Sam got it out of his system, the sooner he'd go to sleep and get the rest he needed.

"Everything." Sam rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. "Everything that's happened...that could happen."

Al sighed softly and not loud enough for Sam to hear. This sounded like Sam would need some support and Al was ready to give it to him. He just wished it had come after a good night's sleep for the kid. "You want to tell me what you've been thinking about?"

"I want to do something. I **need** to do something so they can catch this guy." Sam turned his head in the direction he knew Al was. He had an idea his friend wasn't going to like what he was thinking. "There has to be something I can do, Al."

"You are doing something, Sam. You've given them the first real lead they've had. That's why the clerk at the hotel was able to ID him." He paused. "And I'm sure you'll take whatever time it takes to testify at the trial when they do catch him. That's a lot, Kid. More than they've had so far."

"It's not enough," Sam said in frustration. "It's not enough at all. I don't want anyone else to die."

"What do you think you can do?" Al asked. He got up and walked over to turn on the light. He needed to see Sam's face for this conversation. Once the room was lit, he sat on the edge of the bed. "You need to let the police do their jobs, Sam. They don't want to see anyone die either."

"I know that, Al. It's just that…" He trailed off but gave Al a look that said he was holding something back.

"What is it, Sam? You got something cooking in there?"

"I don't know," Sam said slowly. "I don't think you'd like it."

"Well, you're going to have to tell me eventually. If I know you..." He looked at Sam significantly, "...and I do...then you've likely latched onto some idea. Let's hear it."

Sam shook his head slightly. What he was thinking was just a seed of an idea right now. He didn't want to share it with Al until it was fully formulated. "Not now, Al. I'm not ready." He pushed the blankets down to his waist. "I'm hot again."

Once more Al brushed his hand over Sam's forehead and face and frowned at the heat. "Be right back, kid." He got up and retrieved a washcloth with cool water. Sitting on the side of the bed again, he wiped Sam's face, trying to cool his friend's fever. "You can't stay up all night, figuring whatever it is you're thinking about, Sam. You need your rest."

A small sigh of contentment slipped out of Sam. "That feels good. I'm not trying to stay up all night. I can't help it if I keep thinking. Sometimes it's hard to turn off my mind."

"I know." Al took the now hot washcloth and a fanned it in the air, cooling it before taking it to Sam's face again. "Maybe if I read to you for a while?"

"I didn't bring any books, just work stuff." Although Al's reading did relax him and help him to sleep when that was hard coming, he didn't want to be dependant on it. "You don't have to. I'll fall asleep again soon. Maybe it's just because I slept so much during the day."

"I can check the bookshelf. I'm sure there's something." When Sam declined again, Al acquiesced. "Ok, Kid, but I'm willing to do it if you want me to."

As chills once more took over, Sam pulled the blankets over his body and rolled over to curl up on his side. "I just feel crummy." He thought for just a moment. "If you don't mind, maybe it will help. I'd just like to sleep."

"Ok. Let me check." He went out into the living room and checked the bookshelf. Finding a copy of _Watership Down_, he went back to Sam's room. "I think you'll like this, Kid."

"I don't think I ever heard of that. What's it about?"

"It's a story about a warren of rabbits. Fiver and Seer are the lead characters. It's an epic fantasy. Just what you need to get your mind off of recent happenings."

"Um...rabbits...ok. I guess you couldn't find any classics...maybe even Grey's Anatomy." Sam looked warily at the book. An epic fantasy about rabbits just didn't seem the type of thing he'd be interested in. Although, maybe Al's thought was he could bore him to sleep. "On second thought, you need to sleep. I'll be ok."

"It really is a good story, Kid."

"Al, no offense, I'm sure it's a good book but...I feel like I was run over by a truck, there's some psycho loose out there who'd love nothing more than to kill me, and after blowing off the meeting with Motts, I don't know if I'm going to have to look for the next best guy in the artificial intelligence field. Trying out a book about rabbits just doesn't top the list of what I want to do right now. Really, I'd rather just try to sleep." Despite how that it may have sounded like he was whining, Sam did hope Al would understand that his patience had just run out right now. If he were to be read to, he needed familiar words that he didn't have to concentrate on because he knew them. He needed to just let go and hear the rhythm of being read to. If Al insisted on his choice, he knew he wouldn't be able to do that.

Al blinked as Sam slightly exploded. "Ok, no _Watership Down_. Maybe some other time." He put the book down on the bedside table. "As to Mott's, I don't think you need to worry. I spoke with him earlier. He's still very interested but understands what's happening. He just said we can reschedule later."

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam said contritely. "I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings and I'm sure it's a wonderful book. I just, it's something I've never read before." He struggled as he tried to explain himself. "It's kind of like if you put on music when you're trying to sleep. If it's a song you know, you just hear but you don't have to pay attention to the lyrics or anything. You just hear the rhythm and the melody but if it's something new, you listen closely to the lyrics so your mind keeps going. It's more than just rhythm and melody."

"Ok, Kid. I can understand that feeling." He paused. "There was a copy of _Huck Finn_ on the shelf. Would you like that better?"

Sam couldn't believe Al. He'd rebuffed him and not in the nicest of ways but yet here he was still offering to help out however he could. For what must have been the millionth time, Sam sent up a silent prayer of thanks for having a friend like Al. "Yeah, sure. That'll work."

"Be right back." Al got up and retrieved the book. His friend was a curious man and was willing to try things he'd never done before, of course, but Al also knew that with some things, Sam found comfort in the known. He walked back in. "I always liked Huck. He may have gotten into all sorts of trouble, but he was a good kid."

"Sounds like someone I know," Sam commented with a grin.

"Yeah, well..." Al said before sitting down next to Sam again. "Now, let's get to chapter one."

Al read to Sam until the physicist dropped off to sleep, breathing evenly and deeply. Al adjusted the covers once more and shut off the light. "You get some sleep now, Sam," he said although he was certain that the man couldn't here him. Crawling back into his own bed, he said to himself. "I should take my own advice." Al punched at his pillow, yawning. He lay back, listening to see if Sam awoke again. Sometime during the wait, he fell asleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

It wasn't very bright in the room when Sam woke and he thought that might have been because it was still very early. A closer look out the window that the shade hadn't been pulled over and he realized it was because it was a gray and rainy day.

He rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table. Eight o'clock was far later than he was used to waking. He lay on his back again and stretched tentatively. Although he still didn't feel great, there was some consolation in the fact that the stab wound wasn't quite as painful. He'd made it through yesterday without taking any of the pain pills. Tylenol had been enough to keep the pain at bay. He hoped today would be the same.

Looking across the room, he saw that Al was still sleeping on the cot. It didn't look like a very comfortable place to sleep but if the snores coming out of Al were any indication, it didn't seem to hampering him.

Throwing back the covers, Sam slipped from the bed. He grabbed the zip-front sweatshirt that was on the foot of the bed and pulled it on as a makeshift bathrobe. He'd only gotten a few steps away from the bed when the snores from his friend stopped and he could swear he felt two eyes boring into his back with the intensity of a laser.

"Sam. You know what Mark said. You're not to get out of bed. You pushed it too hard yesterday as it was."

Even knowing Al had woken up, Sam still jumped slightly when he heard his voice. "I...uh...I need to use the restroom," he explained as he turned to face his friend. "I can't really do that in bed, can I?" He neglected to mention that he hadn't planned on going back to bed when he was finished.

"Ok. You're right about that. I doubt Mark keeps bedpans around here." Al said it seriously although he was really just giving the kid a subtle push about where they did have bedpans. He knew Sam would do just about anything not to go back to the hospital.

Sam's face scrunched up in disgust. "Eww. Don't even mention those, ok. I got my fill last year after that car hit me or did you already forget having to help me a couple of times." He thought that reminding his friend of that might tamp down some of his rabid nurse bit.

"No," Al said dryly. "I didn't forget. I'm glad you haven't either."

"So," Sam asked gesturing toward the door. "Can I go then?"

"Yeah. Go ahead." Al said as he stretched.

After he was done in the bathroom, Sam was going to go to the kitchen and see what there was for breakfast. The only problem was, he had to go past the bedroom to get there and Al was waiting for him at the door. As soon as he walked by, his friend caught hold of his arm and pulled him into the room. "Aw, c'mon, Al. What are you doing?" Sam complained. "I was going to see about breakfast."

"I'll bring you breakfast. What do you want?"

Sam tried to push around Al but to no avail. "I don't know. I want to go see for myself."

"I can bring you a menu," Al countered. He looked Sam in the eyes. "I wasn't kidding when I told Mark I'd sit on you if I had to. You're going back to bed, Kid."

"Fine," Sam huffed. He went back to the bed and dropped heavily to it. "Happy? I'm in bed or do you want to tuck me to make sure?"

"You're fine. Now stay there."

"What? No pat on the head? No treat? Even a puppy gets that."

"Don't push it, Sam.," Al said sternly. The kid had fought yesterday that he didn't wanted to be handled with kid gloves and he wanted Al to tell him when he was being an ass. Well, he was going to get what he asked for. "Save your pity party for someone else 'cause I'm not going to bite. I don't like having to do this anymore than you like me doing it, but your doctor said bed rest," His voice softened as he moved closer to the bed and rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder "Do you really want to push it and have to go back to the hospital? Even if we move you to another city, it'd still be like putting bait out for the guy to find you."

At the word bait, Sam's head snapped up. "Maybe that's not such a bad idea. They'd catch him faster and maybe before he could hurt anyone else."

"What?" Al queried. "What's not a bad idea?"

"Um…nothing." Sam could see Al wasn't about to let this go but he still wasn't ready to tell his friend what he'd been thinking – what had been coming to him all night and solidified with Al's words. "Hey, weren't you supposed to see about breakfast?" he asked hoping to distract the older man from pushing any more to find out what he was thinking.

Al knew the distraction for what it was. He'd known Sam for too many years not to know when his friend was trying to keep him from something and change the subject. Sam had something going through his mind and he was certain he wasn't going to like. He didn't have the opportunity to ask again before there was a quick knock on the door followed by it opening slightly and Mark poking his head in.

"I was wondering if I could come in and give Sam his next dose of the antibiotic," the gray-haired doctor asked. He held up the syringe in explanation.

"Yeah, sure, Doc. I know he's looking forward to it." Al gave Sam an almost evil grin. "I'll see about getting you some breakfast while the Doc takes care of you, Kid."

Mark watched as Al left the room. He felt as if he'd interrupted something and both Al and Sam seemed to be acting a little peculiar. He shrugged it off and didn't question Sam about what he and his friend had been talking about. If there was one thing he was learning, it was that peculiar seemed to be a state of being for these two men. Between what he'd witnessed and what they'd told him about their past, it seemed to him that there maybe some truth that old Chinese curse – may you live in interesting times – and that someone had cursed both men. Either that or they were at the center of some strange vortex that seemed to suck bad luck their way. "You know the drill," he said instead and waited for Sam to lay face down on the bed so he could give him the injection.

"I thought you'd be on your way to the hospital by now," Sam said once the shot had been administered and he was again sitting up."

"It's Saturday," Mark pointed out. "I'm not due back at the hospital until Monday unless there's an emergency." If he wasn't mistaken, he could see gears turning in Sam's head.

"Oh. I'd lost track of the days. So, is Steve here too?" Sam asked with a forced nonchalance.

"He is," Mark answered warily. He had a feeling that like it or not, he was about to get sucked into Sam's latest peculiarity.

"Do, uh, do you think you can tell him I'd like to talk with him." The same forced nonchalance was in Sam's voice until he hurriedly said, "but make sure Al doesn't know. I want to talk to him without Al. Maybe…uh…maybe you could distract him or something?" As he asked the question, he turned the wide-eyed, innocent look Al often referred to as his puppy dog look on the doctor and hoped he wasn't any more immune to it than Al was.

Mark looked at the man looking at him like one of the kids he sometimes treated at the hospital, usually when they didn't want to have him give them a shot. He sighed. "Why not, Sam? What are you trying to hide from him?"

"Nothing," Sam quickly said. Realizing how guilty he sounded, he cleared his throat and again said, "Nothing. I just want to talk with Steve without having to play referee." He tried a disarming smile but it looked sickly instead. "You know how they keep going at it."

Not one hundred percent sure that this story was all there was too it, Mark decided it was between the two men. If Sam wanted to talk with Steve, he was an adult and could do so. "Ok. You work it out. Since you're the one this 'nozzle,' as Al calls him, is out to get I figure that Steve is a good person to talk to." He paused. "Just keep in mind that your friend is likely to get antsy."

"Of course he's going to get antsy. That's why you're going to keep him occupied." Once again the wide, innocent smile was firmly planted on Sam's face. "He respects you, you know."

"You trying to butter me up?" Mark questioned.

"No," Sam exclaimed as he verbally backpedaled. "I mean it. Al does respect you and so do I. Do you think Al would let me be hidden here if he didn't?"

Mark considered that. Finally he answered, "No. I don't suppose he would. Al seems to take a rather cynical look at life." He paused again. "No, that's not quite true. It's more like it's a cynical surface look but with an underlying hopefulness."

"Life's given Al more than his share of lemons," Sam explained more seriously. "There's only so much lemonade you make. I think he's earned the right to be cynical every now and then but you're right. He is hopeful. Any time I want to throw in the towel on the project, Al's right there kicking me in the butt and putting an end to the pity party." Sam's eyes seemed to turn inward as he remembered the times Al had supported him. "Even when we were stuck on that mountain and had much bigger problems than if the project got funding or not, Al was right there telling me we would get the funding."

"You've mentioned the project before." Mark noticed a change in Sam's demeanor as he mentioned the project. "Don't worry. I'm not going to ask you to tell me about it. I don't want you to have to kill me," he said with a smile. "It's just that it sounds like the project is a major focus for both of you."

"It's…it's my life's work," Sam explained. "It's my dream." He became more animated as he explained Al's involvement. "Before Al, when I told people about it, they'd laugh at me at best, tell me I was crazy at worst but Al never did. I know he's thought it a few times. Hell, I've thought it about him a time or two. He's never laughed at my dream, though, and he doesn't let me give up on it."

"How long have you known each other? Sounds like a long time."

The question caught Sam by surprise. His and Al's friendship had grown so close over the years; it sometimes felt they'd known each other their whole lives. Now, with the question put to him, Sam realized that, in relation to his age and Al's, it really wasn't that long. "About seven or eight years, I guess. It does seem longer, though."

"You're a lucky man. Very few people have friendships that strong." He paused. "Let me get Steve for you."

Sam nodded and watched as Mark started to leave the room. "Dr. Sloan," he called as the doctor pulled open the door. When Mark turned back to see why Sam had called him, Sam suggested, "If there are some pretty women outside on the beach, that would keep Al distracted." He looked again out the window that was dotted with raindrops. "Although, I don't suppose that's likely with the rain."

Mark smiled. "There's nothing wrong with a healthy libido. Steve considers it one of the perks living and here and sometimes I think that's the reason Jesse comes over so often. I'm sure I'll find something to occupy Al." With that he left to get his son.

Once Mark had left, Sam walked over to the window and looked out. Growing up in Indiana he hadn't had much time to spend at the ocean. Living in New Mexico now, he didn't get to the ocean except when he visited his sister in Hawaii. Still, during his time at school in Massachusetts, he'd had ample time to visit the ocean and had found it a place of peace and a place to think. It still had that effect on him.

He'd spent a lot of the night thinking and trying to figure out a way he could more actively help to catch the killer. Even in his sleep he kept circling around to one idea and it was that idea he wanted to discuss with Steve.

Steve Sloan had been somewhat surprised when his father had said he was needed in Sam's room. He was even more surprised when his father had taken the breakfast tray out of Al's hands and put it in his, explaining that he needed to speak with the Admiral. Still, he knew when his dad did something; it usually made some sort of sense. He just figured time would tell. Once he arrived at the room, he used his foot to knock. "Sam? Dad said I should bring you your breakfast."

"What is all of this?" Sam gestured to the food laden tray Steve carried. "Does Al really think I'm going to eat all of this?" There could be no mistaking that it was Al who'd put the tray of food together. Although it contained foods Sam was partial to, they were in large quantities. The bowl of Cheerios and milk was almost overflowing there were two bananas instead of one, plus a plate piled with four slices of toast. The only thing that seemed to be in "normal" quantities was the mug of tea and glass or orange juice.

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. I figured he must know what he was doing."

"He's going into Papa Bear mode. That means he's got no idea what he's doing except to smother me so he can keep me safe." Sam took the tray from Steve and put it down on the dresser then moved to sit on the bed. It was probably best to just get right to what he'd been thinking about. "I've got an idea to catch this guy. Use me as bait. Let it out to the public where I am. He'll come after me and then you can get him before he can hurt anyone else."

Steve shook his head as if to get the cobwebs out. "What?" he asked, not sure he'd heard right. The conversation had moved fast between the discussion of breakfast to this newest idea.

"I said," Sam began calmly, "I want you to use me for bait to lure this guy out. It's simple. He finds out where I am then he comes after me. You'll be ready and catch him."

Steve looked at the man as if he thought he might be unstable. "You want me to put you into deliberate danger?"

"Yes," Sam said nodding enthusiastically. "I want this over with and that's the fastest way. If he tracked me to the hotel we'd been staying at, who's to say he might not try to track me back home or find my family. I won't have them put in danger. With my plan, it's over that much faster without endangering anyone."

Steve shook his head. "No. You'd be endangered. I can't risk that."

Sam got up from the bed and moved closer to Steve. Looking directly into the man's eyes to alleviate any possibility of misunderstanding, he spoke slowly and deliberately. "I want to do this. This is my choice. If you don't want to help me, I'll just walk out the door and find someone who will."

"You're crazy. This guy has killed 11 people! I can't one hundred percent guarantee that something wouldn't go wrong."

"I'm not asking for guarantees. I'm just asking for a way to end this nightmare." Sam leveled his gaze at Steve's eyes again; anxious to make him understand that right now, this was the only solution he could see. "You have any better ideas or were you planning on having me as your house guest indefinitely. I do have a life I'd like to get back to."

"You're not a prisoner, you know," Steve said quickly. Then he stopped. He figured that to Sam, that might be how he felt. He'd as much as said it the day before. "You sure you want to do it this way?" He had to admit, the man had guts.

Sam considered the question. Being the cheese in a trap to catch a rat wasn't on the top of his "to do" list. Still, as he'd said, he didn't see any other way to end this before the killer added another to his list. Looking Steve steadily in the eye he asserted, "I've never been surer." He slumped just a little when he continued, "I'm just not sure how to break it to Papa Bear."

"Papa Bear as in Al." Steve said to assure he had it right. When Sam nodded he reasoned, "You're an adult, right and he isn't your guardian so I don't see what the problem is." He knew the older man was protective, but certainly he would respect his friend's wishes.

"You really haven't gotten to know him, have you?" Sam didn't wait for an answer to his rhetorical question before going on. "I may be an adult and Al's not my guardian but that doesn't mean he doesn't take his self-imposed job of taking care of me very serious. You've seen how he's tried to hide things from me the last couple of days just to protect me. And that was just to keep something he thought would upset me hidden. Now think about how he's going to react if I put myself in danger deliberately."

Steve's face dropped as he realized Sam was right. . "Yeah. You've got a point. A sharp one at that. Still, you have the right to live your own life. He'll just have to understand.

Sam gave Steve a pitying look one might give a dying man who didn't know he was dying. "Since you're so sure, I'll let you tell him. At least you're armed when he goes ballistic."

"Fine. I'll do that." He paused. "But maybe there's another way…"

Steve wasn't afforded the chance to tell Sam his idea. Instead, the bedroom door burst open and Al barged in with Mark right behind him. Their voices overlapped as Al demanded, "Ok, what's going on in here," and Mark tried to apologize by saying, "I tried to stop him."

"It's ok," Sam said waving off Mark's apology. "He's going to find out anyway."

Al looked at Sam through narrowed eyes. "Just what am I going to find out?" he asked suspiciously. "You're up to something. I know when you get that look. It's your 'I've got a harebrained idea and I better do it before Al finds out and stops me' look and I want to know what you have it for."

There was going to be no easy way to explain the plan to Al. Sam knew that as soon as he'd shared it with Steve. "Just promise me you're not going to yell."

"Tell me what's goin' on in that noggin' of yours and then I'll tell you if I'm going to yell or not," Al countered.

Sam threw Steve a look hoping the man would bail him out. Instead, Steve shrugged and gestured for him to go ahead with his explanation, obviously deciding the best one one to spill the beans under these conditions was Sam. "I've got an idea how to catch the killer," he began to explain. "You're probably not going to like it and I'd rather you didn't try to break the sound barrier. So, do I have your word or do I go ahead without you knowing."

Al eyed his friend carefully. Sam's jaw was set in stubborn lines to match the equally stubborn glint in his eyes. "You tell me and I'll try not to yell," he conceded. "I can't promise, Sam so don't make me make a promise I might not be able to keep."

Figuring that was the best he could get, Sam moved back to the bed and sat on the edge of it. He gestured for Al to join him hoping that if they were both on the same level it might go a little better. "I want Steve to use me as bait to catch the guy who's trying to kill me," he said quickly. "I want him," he said, nodding to Steve, "to release to the media where I am so the guy comes looking for me and then they can catch him."

Al didn't say anything for a few moments. He just sat staring at Sam and blinking as he tried to process what the younger man had said and what its impact could be. "You what?" he finally asked in a deathly soft voice. That was followed by the shout Sam had been trying to avoid. "No way in hell are you going to use yourself as bait, Sam!" Al got up so that he was standing in front of Sam, towering over him. "Did you hit your head and give yourself brain damage that none of us know about? There is no way I'm going to let you put yourself in that kind of danger! Are you nuts? This has got to be the craziest idea you've ever hatched!".

"Don't call me that," Sam said in a soft voice before he also got up. "I'm not nuts and I'm doing this, Al. You can help me or not."

"You are **not** doing this, Sam, so just get it out of your head. I'm not going to let you put yourself in any more danger than you already are."

"I'm not a child," Sam replied hotly. "And you're not my father so don't tell me what I can and can't do. I'm doing this," he said with finality.

Al just stared at Sam for a moment. There was absolutely no way he'd let his friend take on this kind of danger. Not while there was still breath in his body. "No, I'm not your father, Kid. I just care about you like I was. Do you think your father would let you do something like this? Do you think he'd want you to put yourself in danger like you're proposing?" His questions asked calmly and reasonably, caught Sam by surprise for just a moment. Al used that moment to go on the attack against Steve. "I supposed you think this is a great idea. You'll catch your killer and who cares what happens to Sam. If you think it's so great, why don't you get a decoy or something and do it that way?"

It was a struggle but Steve managed to curb his instinct to yell right back. Everything his father had been telling him about Al and how he felt about Sam coalesced the instant Al stated he cared about Sam like a father. In that instant, he knew that it wasn't a need to control or interfere that made Al bluster the way he did. It was fear, plain and simple. Fear that someone he cared about would be hurt. "I was going to suggest that before you barged in," he said coolly. "Do you think I really want to put him in danger any more than you do?"

"Dad would want me to do what's right," Sam said into the silence that followed Steve's question. "That's what I'm trying to do."

At Sam's voice, Al turned back to him. He grabbed hold of him firmly by both arms to make sure the younger man knew just how serious he was. "I know that, Sam. You always try to do the right thing but this time…this time it could get you killed."

"He's right, Sam," Steve chimed in. "And his idea of a decoy is a good one."

"No," Sam said shaking his head back and forth. "I won't have anyone put in danger doing something I'm not doing. It's me he wants. It's me he should get. Don't you see, Al," he continued looking in to the kind, brown eyes of his friend. "I have to do this. I have to make this right. I'd rather you were here to help me."

Al blinked at his friend, ready to say something more but finding it hard to argue with those eyes. "That's not fair, Sam," he finally stated in defeat.

"What's not fair?" Sam pleaded. "That I want this over? That I want my life back? That I don't want anyone else to get hurt." He threw his hands up in the air helpless and dropped back down to the bed. "Tell me what's not fair 'cause right now, I really don't know."

"You. Everything in me is screaming that this is a really, really bad idea." Al let out a breath. "But you know I'll always be there for you, Kid, even when you're going to do something stupid. Like now. That's what's not fair."

Mark grabbed hold of Steve's elbow and pulled him from the room. Right now, this was something Al and Sam had to come to terms with and they needed to do it without any outside interference.

Sam was barely aware of the departure of the two Sloans. "You make it sound like I want to do this only because you don't like it."

"No. That's not it." Al got up and walked over to the window. He looked out at the beach trying to find the words he needed to say. "I understand what you're doing, Sam. I really do. But this guy is a psycho. There's no way of controlling something like this. Anything could happen." He turned around, his face contorted as he thought how this could end. "I just don't want you to be his next victim."

"Even if we don't do this, how can we be sure I won't be his next victim," Sam countered. "You don't know that won't happen anymore than you know it will if I let Steve use me as bait. At least then, it's something that's been planned and there's control over what happens."

Al shook his head. "Murphy was an optimist too, Sam."

"Damn it, Al." Sam was up and across the room to where Al stood by the window in a two steps. "Don't make a joke of this. I'm serious about doing this. If you're not willing to help me, then I will do it without you." He looked at his friend pleadingly trying to find the words he needed to convince him. "If it makes you feel any better, the thought of using myself as bait is terrifying but knowing you're here and you'll support me...that makes it a little less terrifying."

"I'm not making a joke, Sam. I'm being deadly serious...no pun intended." He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I've already told you, I'll be with you. I'll help you anyway I can, but please don't try to make me say this is a good idea or that I like it.

That would be a lie."

"I don't want you to lie and I know you don't think this is a good idea but if you're going to be here…" Sam pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know it's all going to work out if you're here."

Tilting his head, not quite understanding he asked his friend. "What makes you so sure I'll make any difference?"

"Because," Sam began with a small, secret smile. "You're Papa Bear. You won't let anything happen."

Al wasn't sure that being Papa Bear was going to be enough this time. He was terrified of what could happen. Still, he answered Sam with a gravelly, "Damned right I won't."

"So, then, we can tell Steve that it's ok to go ahead with this? You won't try to interfere or stop me?"

Al still had his doubts but he gave Sam a small nod. If he was going to be in for a penny, he'd be in for a pound. "Yeah. You can tell him. But I expect to be in on the planning. I don't want to be shut out." As Sam started to move toward the closed door, Al called after him, "And just what makes you think I could stop you or interfere? I know you, Sam. Once you get something in that head of yours, there's no way of stopping you no matter how foolhardy it might be."

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Steve had been watching the interaction between Al and Sam. More was becoming clear to him. Still, when his father pulled his elbow, he followed him out. After closing the door, he turned to his father, "that's what you meant." He licked at his lips. "You said at the hospital if I'd been Sam, you would have felt the same way."

"I'd feel the same way Al is," Mark agreed. "And I'd do whatever I thought was necessary to make sure you were safe."

"I'm a detective, Dad. I get into things all the time. What makes this different?"

"And I worry about you all the time, Steve. There's nothing different here. When you care about someone, you worry about them and you want to keep them safe. I've just had more time to figure out that the only way I can make sure you're absolutely safe is to keep you locked away somewhere. But then, you don't get to really live." Mark looked toward the direction of the bedroom Sam and Al were in. "I don't think Al's had enough time to get to that point yet."

Steve put his hand on his father's shoulder. "I'm a pretty lucky guy to have you as a Dad." He nodded to the living room indicating they should probably move there. "Who knows how long this is going to be. If there's one I've learned about those two it's that being in the middle is not a good idea when they're both being stubborn as mules."

"Yeah. I'll be right with you in a minute. First I'm going to take care of nature."

"Ok." Steve smiled at him and went into the living room.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

"Of course you'll be in on the planning." Sam tried to get around Al and to the door. "I'll just go let Steve know you're on board and we can get this done."

Al stopped him. "I'll go get him, Sam. You're supposed to be having total bed rest, remember?"

"I feel fine." Sam tried to dodge around Al again but without much luck. "C'mon, Al. I don't need to be in bed."

"Why don't we let your Doctor be the judge of that? They did teach you that in medical school, right?"

"Since you've decided to bring it up," Sam said with a sigh, "I am a doctor and I've decided I don't need bed rest. There. Happy. I just got a second opinion."

"No, Sam. Not good enough. Mark's the one taking care of you at the moment; his opinion's the one I want to hear."

"And just what opinion would that be," Mark asked as he appeared in the doorway. "I'm sorry, I just heard my name as I was walking by."

Al looked at the LA doctor and stated before his friend could say anything. "Sam's decided to do this thing. I'm not happy about it but..." He trailed off figuring that the rest of his fears he should keep to himself. "But," he continued looking over to Sam, "now he says he wants' to do it immediately and I want your opinion as to whether that would fit into your prescription of bed rest."

"I heard what he plans to do," Mark said to Al coming into the room. "I admire your courage, Sam, but Al's right. You need to wait a least a day or two before you do this."

Al nodded and looked at Sam. "See, I was right. Bed rest first, then inject yourself into a dangerous situation. Not the other way around."

"I'll rest better once I know this guy is put away." Sam looked between the two men seeing that neither of them was likely to agree with him any time soon. Truth be told, he didn't have it in him to keep pushing to get his way right now. He still felt under the weather. Maybe if he did as Dr. Sloan advised – at least for today – he'd be better prepared for whatever outcome his idea could bring. "Ok. I'll rest today," He conceded then looked over to Al. "Happy?"

"Happier, but happy won't happen until you do what your doctor says."

"Oh, for the love of Pete." Sam spun around and went over to the bed. He lay down and pulled the blankets up. "Good enough now or do you want to tie my wrist to the bedpost just to make sure."

"That's not necessary, Sam," Al said, his inflection showing he wasn't amused by Sam's latest dramatics. "I'm sure restraints will not be necessary."

"I think I'll let you gentlemen sort this out yourselves," Mark said backing out of the room. "Just yell if either of you need anything." As he turned to walk out the door, Steve was just coming in. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him with him. "Let's leave them alone right now."

"We just did that Dad. For two friends, they sure argue a lot."

"They're not arguing, Steve. They're discussing. Let's just leave them be right now."

"Sure sounds like arguing to me." He noted the look on his father's face. "Ok, ok."

Sam pillowed his head on his arm and looked to the dresser where he'd put the tray with his breakfast. "Cereal's probably soggy," he said in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone trying to get past the bump he'd created. "And the toast is probably cold. Guess it's my fault."

"I'll make you some more," Al said, going to get the tray. He looked over to Sam and saw him somewhat subdued. "You know that Mark isn't just putting roadblocks up, Kid, and neither am I. We just want you to get better as soon as possible."

"Do we really argue a lot?" Sam asked having overheard what Steve had said.

"Well, there are times when we have distinct differences in opinions." He considered his next words. "You know that not all arguing is bad, Kid. Sometimes it just makes you see things you wouldn't otherwise."

"Except, I'm not willing to see your side of things a lot of time." Sam pushed the blanket down and sat up against the headboard. "How do you put up with me? I'm stubborn. I argue with you a lot. I don't listen very well sometimes." He looked up to Al. "I can be a real pain in the butt."

"Yeah," Al said, agreeably. When he saw the kid's eyes narrow at him he continued. "Well, you said it, I didn't. The truth is, Sam, with all that, we're still best friends with all that entails. No matter how often we disagree, in the long run, I'd rather have that be true than win on a few petty issues."

"If they're petty, Al, why do we argue about them? If it's just petty, what difference does it make if I stay in bed or if I get up and...and...I don't know...go jogging on the beach?" Seeing the look his questions generated and wanting to stave off another of the petty arguments as Al had termed them, he hastened to explain. "I'm not asking to be difficult or a pain in the butt. I just want to understand. Other than you, I've never really had a close friend and," he shrugged not sure if he was explaining himself well. "I'm lost."

"You misunderstood me, Kid," Al put the tray back down on the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed then answered. "This..." he said, indicating the current situation, "...is not petty at all which is why I'm willing to push you to do what you have to know is in your best interests. What I'm saying is a lot of the things we 'argue' about are not worth getting wrapped around the axle about."

"Then why do we argue about them?" Sam persisted. He rubbed his hand over his forehead. "Damn, this is all starting to give me a headache. I just…I hate when I can't figure things out and right now, I can't. You tell me its little stuff not worth getting upset about but we still do." He leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "Is this what it would have been like if Tom hadn't been killed? Would we have argued about things for no reason?"

"I don't know, Kid. I don't know." He could see the lines of tiredness in Sam's face. "But you do need to get some more rest."

"You don't hate me?" Sam asked in a small voice. Every now and then there was a small part of him - the part that was still the child not quite accepted by his peers - that needed the assurance that he was accepted.

Al leaned over grabbing Sam's shoulder and squeezing it. "Never, Sam. How could I hate you? I can promise you that will never happen. Now get some sleep."

Sam reached up grabbing onto the hand on his shoulder and squeezing back. "I never did get any breakfast. Can't expect me to sleep if I'm hungry."

"Yeah. There is that," Al said with a smile back, feeling Sam answering his statement as much with body language as words. He got up from the side of the bed and picked up the discarded breakfast tray again. "I'll be right back."

"This time, I don't need you to overdo it, though. Tea and toast is fine."

"Right, Sam." He knew he'd likely overdo it again. Sam needed his strength and tea and toast weren't going to cut it.

"Al, I'm not kidding and I don't feel like another 'petty' argument. I'm hungry, but I'm not that hungry. I really do feel a little under the weather."

Al sighed. "Ok, Sam. Tea and toast. For now."

Sam watched as Al walked out of the room. He couldn't understand it. For the most part, he and Al were generally in agreement but as soon as something seemed to go wrong, they kept having all these small, foolish arguments. It was frustrating. He knew his own stubbornness was to blame but for some reason he couldn't seem to stop digging his heels in. He wondered if Verbena was right. She'd suggested that maybe the reason it happened was because when things weren't going right he needed that extra affirmation that Al wasn't going to leave him high and dry. Why he had to push the man into an argument to get it he couldn't understand.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al closed the door behind him and moved to the living room. "I'm sorry to have put you in the middle of that. I know Sam's a doctor and all but the idea of 'physician heal thyself" doesn't seem to be a concept that he embraces easily.

"Sam's being a typical doctor. We tend to not want to listen to medical advice…even if it is in our own best interest. He does seem quite frustrated about something, though."

"Yeah. He didn't win the argument." At the look on both Mark's and Steve's faces, he explained. "When Sam is focused on something, it's not easy for him to give it up. While that's mostly been a good thing for meeting his academic and career goals, he sometimes pushes things to the edge. That's what he's doing now."

"So what was decided?" Steve asked curiously. "Should I be making any kind of arrangements or did you talk him out of sticking himself front and center in danger?"

Al sighed. "No. I lost that argument. We're going to need to make some kind of arrangements. Talking him out of this I've put into the category of 'really good ideas that will never happen. The argument he lost was when this is going to go down."

"He's got guts, I'll give him that," Steve observed. "I'll call the Captain and let him know what Sam's plan is and get it going. I've got a feeling if I put it off, he'll just take matters into his own hands."

"Well, we have at least another day; maybe two so there'll be time to make sure all the parts are in place. I want to be a part of that planning. I want to know exactly what's going on for the entire operation."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you know everything that's happening." Steve turned to his father. "You sure he's going to be ready for this, Dad?"

"It's not like I have to really 'do' anything," Sam answered coming into the living room. "I wanted to see if the tea was ready," he explained when Al looked ready to chastise him for being out of bed.

Al sighed, "You didn't need to do that Sam, I'd have brought you the tea as soon as it was ready. Besides, you might not have to be incredibly active, Kid, but you will have to be ready for any possibility." He turned to Steve, "Right?"

"Uh, yeah. He's right, Sam," Steve quickly agreed. He had the feeling he'd just been put in the middle of something but he wasn't sure what or even if he wanted to know what. "We don't know what exactly is going to happen but it's best to be prepared for anything."

Al, being vindicated, nodded to the door to the bedroom. "Now if you want to do this, the sooner you get rested the better you'll be able to be prepared."

Sam was going to agree with Al when a rumble of thunder filled the air. He looked briefly up at the ceiling before suggesting, "Maybe I can just lie down on the couch out here."

Al looked over to Mark. This would be something he'd have to call.

"I don't think that's a problem, Sam," Mark said with a comforting smile. He'd seen Sam's reaction to the thunder and guessed the man may not be a fan of them. "As long as you're lying down and getting some rest. I'll get some sheets and make it up for you."

As Mark put sheets on the couch, Al finished fixing Sam's second breakfast. Sam was just about finished having his toast and tea when the phone rang.

Mark answered it and listened for a few minutes. "Yes, I understand." He looked over to Sam. "I'll be there within thirty minutes. Be sure to let me know if there's another change in the readings." He got off the phone but before explaining to the other occupants in the room, he called another number. Getting an answer he said, "Jesse? I know this is Saturday but Mrs. Markowski has had another incident. Would you come by the house?" Obviously getting a positive answer he finished. "Great." Finally he turned to the rest of the group. "I'm going to have to leave. One of my patients is not doing well."

Steve nodded. "Ok. I'll let Jesse know where things stand when he gets here, Dad."

"Thanks, Son," Mark answered, retrieving his keys. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Looking over to Sam, he gave a final statement. "On the couch or in bed." With that he left.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

The rest of the morning and afternoon were mostly uneventful. The thunderstorm that rolled through cut off the power for about 20 minutes. Jesse arrived while the electricity was out. Steve was as good as his word and told him what his father's expectations were.

Sam started out following the regimen, sleeping for a good two hours. However, with the sound of a particularly loud thunderclap he awoke with a start. "What!" he cried out, his face showing extreme fear.

"Easy," Jesse said coming over to Sam. "It's ok. You're ok." He kept his voice low and gentle trying to calm the frightened man.

"Al? Where's Al," Sam asked looking around. "He killed him. He killed Al." He tried to get up from the couch to look for his friend but the young doctor held him down. "Let me go. I need to go to Al. He needs me," he cried out struggling against the hold.

"It was only thunder. No one's been shot. Al's downstairs with Steve." As Jesse struggled to keep Sam still, he saw Steve coming up from his apartment downstairs. "Get Al," he ordered him.

Steve saw what was happening and turned around quickly. A few moments later, Al came bounding up the stairs. "Sam? What is it? Is he ok, Jesse?"

"Thunder woke him up. I think he was dreaming and he thinks you were shot or something." As Al came over, Jesse yielded his place to him knowing that Al would have an easier time calming the frightened man.

"Sam? Buddy? Everything's fine. You just had a bad dream. Not surprising under the conditions."

"Al?" Sam questioned in a shaking voice. He probed at his friend's chest looking for blood. "I thought...I thought he killed you. I heard the gun...I...I think..." his voice trailed off as he tried to separate reality from dream.

"No guns, Kid." He nodded to the window where the storm was still strong. "It was thunder and that last clap must have mixed into your dreams." As he spoke a flash of lightning was seen followed almost immediately by the thunder. "Must be right over us now."

"No gun," Sam echoed uneasily. "Just a dream." As the lightening flashed and the thunder boomed, he flinched and grabbed onto Al's arm.

Al felt Sam's hand dig into his arm. "What's going on, Sam. I know you don't like storms much, but..."

Sam licked at suddenly dry lips and looked around. "It's too loud today. I don't like it. It's giving me a bad feeling."

"What kind of bad feeling, Kid?" Al said. He knew that sometimes if Sam could put things into words, they took on a different hue.

"I don't know." Sam couldn't describe how the storm was making him feel. Since he was a child, they'd always made him uneasy but he'd never felt the fear that he was feeling now. "I just don't like it."

"Well, it will be over soon." Al had unconsciously started to rub Sam's arm in a soothing way. "Maybe if you tried to get back to sleep."

"Ok," Sam agreed. He lay back down but he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he watched as the storm continued to rage on outside the glass doors. The lightening was growing less fierce in intensity and the booms of thunder weren't quite as loud. As Al had said, the storm would be over soon. Al continued to rub his arm and he forced himself to concentrate on that alone. It soon had a hypnotic effect on him as he started to drift back toward sleep. "Don't let him hurt you," he asked before his eyes fell shut.

"I won't Sam." Once Sam was asleep again Al turned to the two other men. "Steve, maybe we should bring the work upstairs. I think while the storm is going on, I need to be up here."

"Yeah, sure." Steve looked at the now sleeping man. "Does he always react like that when it thunders?"

"No. Not like this." Al looked back at Sam and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "He doesn't like storms. I think it has to do with some tornado's that he's lived through but I've never seen him terrified by them before."

"It's probably just a combination of the infection, fever, and all the meds he's been taking," Jesse offered. "That can cause mood changes."

Al considered that with a nod. "Is there anything medically that can be done to help him?"

"Not really. He mainly has to ride it out. What you did now is the best thing. Just reassure him."

"No problem there." He blew out a breath. "If I know Sam, this will just make him more determined to act as bait. We should get the planning done sooner than later."

Steve nodded then went downstairs to get the work they'd been doing and brought it back upstairs. For the next few hours, he and Al sat at the dining room table planning out any contingency and possibility they could think of. The planning was punctuated by a few calls to Steve's captain to keep him up to date and to get his feedback and with a few suggestions from Jesse.

For the most part, Sam slept on unaware of what the other men were doing. On two other occasions, though, he did wake with a start. Confused and frightened, he didn't settle down until Al had reassured him several times that all was well.

Concerned, Jesse had wanted to call Mark at the hospital after the second incident and tell them they were on their way there. The only thing that had stopped him was how much more upset Sam had gotten at the idea. He didn't quiet down until all three men had promised they weren't going to take him to the hospital.

He was finally in a sound and restful sleep when Mark came back. "How have things been," the gray-haired doctor asked looking toward his sleeping patient.

"They got kind of hairy for a while." Jesse briefly outlined how the day had gone and his concerns. "His temp's starting to come down now," he finished off, "and he's quieted down."

Mark moved closer to the couch looked down at Sam. His chest rose rhythmically with his soft breathing. His face was turned toward the back of the couch and he seemed peaceful. Mark lightly brushed his hand over Sam's face. "The Meropenem's probably started to work." He looked over to Al's concerned face. "He should start doing a lot better now."

Al let out a sigh of relief when he heard that Sam was likely on the mend now. When the kid had woken up so disoriented and so fearful, when he'd been shying away at each clap of thunder, he'd be reminded of how ill Sam had been in the hospital last year. "So he'll be ok," he asked just to be sure.

"If he keeps doing as he's told, yes."

As they were talking, the object of their conversation started to stir. "Al?" Sam called out drowsily.

Hearing Sam call his name, Al moved quickly to his side. "I'm right here, Kid. What do you need."

Sam slowly opened his eyes, taking a moment to let things come into focus. "I'm thirsty. Can I have water?" he asked the concerned face he saw leaning over him.

"Yeah, sure, Kid. I'll go get you some."

When Al moved away to fill Sam's request, Mark again moved closer, sitting on the coffee table and looking at Sam gravely. "I hear you gave Jesse a run for his money while I was out. I thought I told you to behave," he said in mock chastisement.

"Sorry, Dr. Sloan," Sam apologized keeping up the ruse. "I know I should have waited until you got back."

"Next time, see that you do," the older man said with a broad grin. "How are you feeling," he asked more seriously.

"Ok," Sam replied as he pulled himself up to sit. He accepted the glass of water Al handed him smiling his thanks. "I mostly feel like I just ran a race or something," he continued after he'd drunk his full.

"Well, that's to be expected but it looks like you've turned the corner. By the way, I got your blood cultures back while I was at the hospital and it is a staph infection so I'm going to keep you on the Meropenem – especially since it seems to be doing the trick."

Sam nodded in agreement with the doctor's findings. "How's your patient? The one you went to see."

At the mention of patient he'd been called to the hospital for, Mark's entire demeanor changed. His shoulders sagged and he looked down to the floor. "She didn't make it."

"I'm sorry." The words seemed inadequate to Sam. He knew what this man must be feeling. He knew how he'd felt when he'd been a practicing physician and had lost a patient. It was one of the reasons he hadn't pursued medicine as a career. "I'm sure you did the best you could."

Al and the others also indicated they were sorry about Mark losing a patient. Jesse spoke up, "Yeah. It just wasn't meant to be, Mark."

"I know," Mark agreed. "I'm just happy her family got there in time." He shook off his brief melancholy. "But you, young man," he said turning back to Sam, "are heading in the direction we want you to be going. You keep doing as you're told and I might let you off bed rest tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir," Sam agreed.

Al was about to say that was good news but he got a chill as he realized that would just make Sam want to go through with the bait sting sooner than later.

"Of course, that doesn't mean you're going to be up to running marathons. You're still going to need to take it easy," Mark admonished. "You start pushing too hard and you'll end up right back where you are now."

"Yeah, Sam. You should listen to Mark," Al said, hearing a way out.

Steve spoke up; unaware of Al's mindset since they'd just spent several hours planning the sting. "How soon you think until he'll be ready, Dad."

Al gave Steve an annoyed look.

"Let's give it until Monday, Steve. I want to make sure he's well-rested if there's a chance of anything happening."

"Yeah. We need to give Sam a chance to get healthy before we invite someone to try and kill him," Al said, glad to put it off a few days.

"Why do we have to wait? It's not like I'm going to do anything. Let's just do this and get this over with and then I'll rest."

"Sam..." Al started.

"Don't 'Sam' me." Sam looked at the faces of the other four men. None of them looked likely to budge and back him up – even Steve. "Fine," he said not wanting to engage in any more arguments. "I'll wait but after come Monday, you all either help me or I do it myself."

Al nodded. "Well we need to make sure that Mark has agre..."

"I don't care if he agrees or not," Sam said cutting Al off mid-word. "It's either out on the late news Sunday so this guy makes his move Monday or I...I...I'll take an ad out in the Times if I have to."

"Come on, Sam. Be reasonable." Al was hoping to put this plan off. He'd told his friend he'd support him but he also felt that the more time that went by, the better chance that the criminal would be caught, and then Sam wouldn't have to do this.

"Reasonable?" Sam asked in a deceivingly low voice. "You want me to be reasonable. I walk in on some guy robbing a gas station, get a knife in my gut, almost get smothered, this guy's killed other people, tracked down the hotel we were at, knows my name and can probably track me back to New Mexico and you want me to be reasonable. I want him behind bars. I don't want to get a call from Verbena that Tina's dead 'cause this guy found out where I live and she just happened to be there feeding my fish when he showed up. I don't want Mom telling me he found them in Hawaii and just happened to put that knife in my sister instead. How's that for reasonable? Is that reasonable enough for you?"

"Calm down, Sam." He turned to Mark. "It's not good for him to get upset like this is it?"

"No, it's not." Mark agreed. He reached out a hand to try to calm Sam down but the younger man eluded him as he got up from the couch.

"I tell you what, Al, why don't you keep hiding here and be reasonable." He looked around the room at everyone there. "Why don't you all sit here and be reasonable and I'll go do something."

Steve, seeing the situation coming to a crescendo, spoke up. "Sam, Monday would probably be better from a planning standpoint. It's going to take me until tomorrow night to get everything in place, including the media 'leak.' You agreed to wait until Monday so lets do it then."

Al let out a breath, obviously upset himself. "Fine. Even if he's not ready, we're just going to do this then. Yeah. That makes a whole hell of a lot of sense. You're just being stubborn again, Sam."

"I'm not being stubborn," Sam said not ready to capitulate. "Every time I don't agree with you, I'm being stubborn. Change the record 'cause I'm tired of hearing that one. Just because I don't agree doesn't mean I'm being stubborn. Maybe you are." He looked over to Steve. "Monday, but not a day longer."

Steve nodded. "I'll get right on it." He decided now wasn't the time to get into it with Al. "I'll be downstairs on the phone."

Al looked at the two of them. "So I'm the one being stubborn. I'm trying to make sure nothing else bad happens but I'm being stubborn." He walked over to the sliding glass door to the deck, pulling one of his cigars out of his pocket. "Excuse me, but I'm going out for a smoke and walk.

"No," Sam said adamantly. "You do that all the time. You don't like what I say so you have to go off by yourself. Why don't you stay and face me for a change."

"Why? You'll just tell me I'm being overprotective and maybe I am. I just have a bad feeling about this whole thing." He pulled the door open and walked out.

"Oh no you don't," Sam muttered as he gave chase. He brushed past both Mark and Jesse who tried to stop him. "You get back in here Calavicci. Don't you walk out on me like that."

Al looked over his shoulder. "I'll be back. I always come back. Right now, though you really don't want me in there." His eyes were smoldering as he shook the unlit cigar in his hand for emphasis.

"I said get back in here," Sam reached out and grabbed Al just before he was out of reach tugging to get him back in the house.

Al looked at his friends hand on his arm. "You told me to let you know when you're being an ass? Right now would be a good example."

"It takes one to know one."

"Enough," Mark bellowed loud enough that all three men flinched. "Al get back in here. Sam let him go. Now," he commanded when the two didn't immediately comply. "Jesse, why don't you see if Steve needs help or something," he suggested in a lower voice when Sam and Al were inside."

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing," Jesse agreed before hurrying from the room.

After Sam let him go, Al walked back into the house, standing so there was a unseen space around him, almost like a shield. "I'm in," he stated dryly, his voice low and gravely.

"I have had about all I can out of the two of you," Mark continued. "All you have done is bicker and argue and pick at each other and it's going to stop now. Do you hear me?" He didn't wait for acknowledgement from either of them. "Al, he's a big boy. Back off and let him make his own choices every now and then. Sam, he cares about you. You should be happy that he does and that he doesn't want anything to happen to you. Instead of trying to rip each other's throats out, why don't you just listen to each other and I don't mean with your ears."

Al nodded shallowly but didn't say anything at first. The shield was still somewhat up. "He's made his decision and we'll do it his way," he finally said. His words held no emotion, just a decision made.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled contrite that they'd been putting their host out.

"I don't believe the two of you," Mark said in wonder. "Do you ever just try talking with each other instead of at each other or to each other? Do you ever try to listen...to anyone?" He looked at the two men. One resembled a guilty child and the other seemed to look right through him. "Sam, get back on the couch where you're supposed to be. Al, go take your walk but when you come back in, the two of you are going to talk and listen to each other. This arguing has to stop now. If you want this plan to work, the two of you need to be in agreement, not pulling against each other."

"You're right, Mark. Sam is a big boy and he has the right to make his own decisions and choices. Sometimes I forget that." He turned to Sam. On the surface Al was calm and completely at ease. His eyes, though, held something in them that had been pushed down deep. He smiled but it didn't fully take that look away. "I'm sorry, Kid. We'll talk later like Mark said." With that he turned with a military exactness and walked out the door.

Mark's face was rather confused at the turn in events. To all appearances, his words had been taken to heart by both parties but they also seemed to have created a distance in Sam's overprotective friend. "What just happened?" he questioned aloud.

Sam slowly moved over to the couch and slouched down on it. "It's my fault. He's angry with me."

"I can understand his concern. This thing you're going to do isn't going to be a walk in the park."

"That's not what it is," Sam said waving off Mark's words. "It's because I didn't agree with him...and he says I'm stubborn. He does this all the time. If I don't agree with him, I'm the one who's wrong and tries to guilt me into agreeing with him." He was hoping he could win Mark over to his side making it easier to get Al to become more agreeable.

"I think maybe there's some stubbornness on both sides. You two are more alike then you might think."

"Or maybe too different," Sam said quietly. "Maybe if we were more alike we wouldn't disagree."

"Oh, I have no doubt you don't always see eye to eye on different things. What I was referring to is how you approach the issues."

"What do you mean how we approach issues?"

"Well, both of you have very strong opinions and from what I can see, you both have good reasons backing up your ideas. Then both of you challenge each other. At its best, I imagine you come to agreement with stronger and better ideas. At its worst you bicker at each other."

Sam looked thoughtful as he digested Mark's words. "I guess you're right," he said slowly. "When you put it that way. Still, I wish he wouldn't just walk away like this. Why can't he talk to me?"

"Maybe he's just needs some time to process things or maybe when things are getting emotional for him he wants to get better control of himself. It may be that he knows he'll go off and pulling himself away from the situation is a way of keeping that from happening." Mark was quiet for a minute. "I've seen this type of behavior before at the hospital. Not quite as much of it since usually I can leave it behind somewhat when I go home for the night."

"I guess," Sam conceded. "I just can't help but wonder sometimes if he's just not going to come back. I'd rather we just work it out."

Mark saw the concern in the younger man's eyes and put his hand on his shoulder. "Sam, if there's one thing I've learned living under the same roof with the two of you, it's that he cares about you like I care about Steve. I'd put money on it that it would take something drastic for Al to walk away."

Restless, Sam got up from the couch and went over to the sliding doors. He could see that Al had already made it to the water's edge and was standing looking out at the sea. A few fat raindrops started to fall on the glass and slide down. Far off over the water, lightening was starting to slice through the sky again. "I wish he'd come in," he said as he traced the path of a drop of water down the glass.

"I'm sure he'll come back in. The Admiral doesn't strike me as a man who would stay out in the rain."

Sam looked back over his shoulder briefly. He tried a smile but couldn't quite manage it. "You don't know Al."

"No, I guess I don't. Not as well as you for certain." He paused. "When he does come back in, maybe it would be best not to push him. From what I understand, he's spent a good deal of time working out the best way for your plan to work with Steve. My guess is he'll go through with it. May not want to but will."

"I don't care about that right now. I wasn't fair to him and now he's out there."

"But he's out there by his own choice, Sam." The older doctor smiled kindly. "I can see the protective feelings go both ways."

"No. He's out there because I got him upset." Sam put his hand out to pull the door open. "I'm gonna go get him. It's starting to rain harder."

Mark covered Sam's hand with his own. "No. You remember you're supposed to be getting better and going out in the rain isn't on the agenda. If you need someone to get him, I will."

"No." Sam shook off the hand over his. "I'll get him. I want to."

Mark gave Sam a long look. "No." When Sam started to say something else, he continued. "Dr. Beckett. I've been willing to find a way to meet you more than halfway, but you've also agreed to follow my medical advice which currently is to stay the hell out of the rain. Do I make myself clear?"

"But…I have to," Sam insisted. "He has to know it's me, not you." He willed Mark to understand him.

"I'll let him know," Mark answered. "I think don't think Al will have a problem with it being me that asks him to come back to the house."

"No," Sam disagreed. He used his greater size to push past Mark and pull the door open. He wasn't afforded the opportunity to go out when he was grabbed by the arm and pulled back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Steve asked not loosening his iron grip on Sam's arm.

"Let me go," Sam demanded pulling against the grip. "I'm going to go get Al. Let me go."

A flash of lightening lit the sky. Had anyone been watching outside, they would have seen that Al was making his way back to the house.

Sam continued to struggle against Steve trying to free his arm. "Let me go," he kept repeating. He finally succeeded in pulling his arm free and stumbled backwards until he hit the door. "I told you, I'm not your prisoner," he seethed. "I'll go out if I want to."

"That's true," Steve said calmly but with a slight edge to his voice. "You're not my prisoner but you're my responsibility and I take that seriously. If you want to leave, I'll do everything I can to get you out of LA safely but I won't be able to protect you after that. Is that what you really want?"

"Steve..." Mark started.

"Not now, Dad. This is between me and Dr. Beckett." He turned to look him. "What's it going to be, Sam? You're the only person that can testify to that man committing a crime. I need you but legally all I can do is subpoena you once we catch and charge this killer."

When Sam answered the question his voice was filled with resignation. "I just want to get Al...to talk to him...that's all. I need to make it right. I need to own up to what I did. I'm making him the scapegoat again." He looked between the two men looking for some kind of understanding. "I hate this," he said spinning away from them and back to the door. He leaned his hand on the cold glass but didn't try to open the door again.

At that moment the door started to open. "What the hell's going on here?" Al exclaimed. He looked over to Sam. "I thought you were supposed to be resting. You look like you've done everything but."

Faced with what, to him, was yet another hostile face, Sam shook his head slightly then moved back to the couch. "I'm sorry," he apologized to all present. He wasn't sure what the complete list was that he should be apologizing for but right now he felt he owed all of them an apology.

Al looked over at Sam. "What happened? I go out for a short walk to clear my head and come back and all hell's broken loose." Jesse was the only one that seemed to be as lost as he was.

"You know," Jesse broke in wanting to break free of the confusion, "there's a thing I have to do and I…uh…I need to get going and do it."

Mark looked over to Jesse, feeling bad that once again he'd been caught up in the maelstrom. "Yeah. Sounds like a good idea. Thanks for helping out again, Jesse."

"Sure, no problem. I'll...uh...I'll see you around." Jesse made a hasty retreat to the door.

The rest of the group bid their fairwells to Jesse. After the young Doctor had left, Al turned back to the three. "So what happened?"

"Just like you said," Sam responded, "I was an ass."

Before Al could respond, Mark added, "Sam was concerned about you being out in the rain and wanted to retrieve you. Neither Steve nor I thought that was a good idea for different but no less valid reasons."

Steve was still awaiting his answer. "Yeah." He moved towards Sam. "You still haven't told me what it is you want to do. I've been honest and consistent with you. You, on the other hand seem to be bouncing all over the place. What is it you want, Sam?"

Al started to step forward, "That's not fa..." he started but Steve raised his hand. "Like I told my father. This is between Sam and I. Right now you need to back off."

"It's not their fault," Sam said from the couch. "I told you, I was being an ass – a stubborn ass. Just like you said." He looked over to Mark. "Dr. Sloan, do you mind if Al and I talk in private, please?"

Mark took in a deep breath. "Come on, Steve. You and I probably need to talk as well." He looked over to the still healing man, not a hundred percent sure that having stepped in at the hospital to set up his home as a safe house had been the best plan.

Steve nodded, acquiescing to his father but telling Sam before they left to go downstairs. "I want a solid answer, Sam. I want to get this guy and I think you do too. I just have to know you're willing to do what it takes."

"I told you I would." Sam flicked his gaze to Al then back to Steve. "I just wanted to talk with Al, that's all."

Nodding, Steve followed Mark down the stairs. He could tell his Dad wasn't very happy."

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam said once Steve and Mark were out of sight. "I'm sorry if I'm being such a pain."

Al didn't say anything at first, still trying to keep his emotions at bay. Finally he answered, "I just don't understand why."

"Why what? Why I'm sorry?"

"Why you keep..." Al started. "I don't know, Sam. I'm probably as much to blame. Maybe we've just been together too much the last few days." He saw Sam's eyes widen slightly. "That didn't come out right. I mean with the situation being what it is, maybe the fact that we're not seeing eye to eye and we don't have a place to unwind is part of it all."

"Do you want to go back to New Mexico," Sam offered tentatively. "It's ok. I'll be ok here for a few days. You're probably right. We've just been together too much."

"No!" came the response quickly and certain. "I'll be here, Sam. There's no way I'm going to let this thing go down while I'm a thousand miles away. I'm just saying, maybe we shouldn't talk about any of this. Things are set. Steve's in charge of the operation. I figure that we should probably just let things be."

"But," Sam began still wanting to iron out their differences. One look at Al's face and he knew that wouldn't be a good idea. "Ok," he agreed reluctantly. "I am sorry, though."

"Ok, Kid. I shouldn't be making it any more difficult for you. Just promise me you get the rest Mark's been pushing you to get." Al's face showed that was his primary concern at this point.

Sam nodded absent-mindedly at the reminder that he was supposed to rest. "So does this mean we just don't talk to each other? I don't see how that's any different than you going back to New Mexico."

"I think we can talk. We just have to keep anything we talk about neutral subjects. We'll be in the thick of the other stuff soon enough."

"You think." Sam got up and slowly started pacing around the room. "You think we can talk." He stopped and spun around to face Al. "That's really comforting that you think we can talk without arguing. That gives me a real warm and fuzzy."

"Sam. You're thinking this through too much. What do you want me to do? Right now you've got your focus on doing something I've agreed to help with over my own personal objections. That's because I understand WHY you want to do this and I know once you've decided on something, God forbid anyone tries to stop you. So I won't. Instead, I'll do anything I can to help you." He paused. "You tell me to challenge you on things and then when I do, you tell me I'm doing something else. I really don't know what else to do but keep our conversations neutral for the next couple of days."

"I just didn't want you to walk out without talking," Sam said with a small shake of his head. "You are stubborn. You're as stubborn as me. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but if I didn't walk out and get a little space to think first, I don't know what I would have said, Kid. Besides, there have been times you've needed your space as well. That's been true for both of us since we met each other. Just like the fact that we both have a stubborn streak that sometimes comes out at the worst possible times. Nothing has changed."

"If nothing's changed, why does it feel like it has? We used to talk to each other and listen. Now it just seems like all we do is yell at each other and don't listen." He put up a hand to stop Al from saying anything. "I'm not saying it's you're fault. It's not – at least not completely. It's my fault too and…maybe…fate."

Al stopped when Sam put his hand up and let him finish. Then he opened up again. "We still do talk without arguing. You remember the lab party we threw when the cabling was done for the Imaging Chamber? What about that weekend when we went to Washington last month? It's not like what's happening now always does. Just when things are going caca, like now. This past week has been rough on us both. It's understandable that tensions are high."

"But it's when things are rough that we should be able to get along…that we need to get along." Sam sighed and moved back to the couch sitting down. He took one of the pillows on it and hugged it to his chest. "We're supposed to be best friends. We should be able to lean on each other and support each other when things are going rough but instead, it seems that when we…when I," he corrected himself, "push you away."

Al went and sat next to Sam. "Yes, you do but then I push back in." He paused. "You remember a few months ago? When Bena first joined the project?"

"A little hard to forget that, don't you think."

"Well...during that time I questioned whether I should stick around. That maybe it would be better if I left." Sam started to say something but Al put up his hand and stopped him. "My turn." He then went on, "But I decided then and there that nothing was more valuable to me than our friendship. I'm willing to fight tooth and nail for that, Kid, and if making that a reality sounds like arguing, then so be it."

Sam rubbed his hands over his face. "This is all making my head spin. How did we end up here anyway?" He leaned his head against the seatback and looked at Al sideways. "I always knew goofing off would get me in trouble. This just proves it."

"Yeah, well. Personally, I think its 'cause you don't do it enough. If you did, you'd know how to handle it." He said it gently and with a bit of tease in the inflection.

"Oh, you mean if you do it enough walking into a robbery isn't so bad?"

Al's face fell. "Let's not go there again."

"Ok," Sam said softly. "I'm sorry. Is food a safe topic 'cause I was thinking dinner might not be a bad idea."

"Food is always a safe..." Al started. Regaining his grin, he decided a little light teasing was in order. "That is unless you're suggesting you fix it. Not sure I'm in the mood for charcoal rump roast."

"Once, Al. It was only once." Although he sounded affronted, Sam was returning the teasing. "You act like I've never successfully cooked a meal in my life. I probably should be insulted."

"Well, only once with the roast...then there was..." Al began, still only giving the kid a little hell.

"How about the chicken and rice," Sam countered, cutting him off. "You seem to enjoy when I cook that."

"Yeah. I have to admit, that's pretty good," Al acknowledged.

"Sooo....I guess you owe me an apology then, right?" The more he and Al bantered, the more at ease Sam was although an undercurrent of tension was still present.

"You planning on making the chicken and rice?" Al replied?

"Do you really think Dr. Sloan would let me up long enough to make it?" Sam countered back. "Or would you let me up to do it? I don't think so," he answered before Al could.

Then I don't owe you an apology," Al said smoothly.

"That's not what I meant," Sam said looking at Al with narrowed eyes. "You know I meant neither of you would let me up to make it because you want me to just keep lying around, not because you think I'd poison you."

"Ok, ok," Al responded, putting his hands up. "I apologize for insinuating your cooking is subpar."

"Apology accepted." Sam put his hand out to Al. When he took it, he pulled him into a quick embrace. "It's never personal, Al," he said before releasing him.

"Yeah." It was a single word, but it was said with the physical acceptance of the embrace. He knew Sam would understand how he felt.

Once the two men had made their peace and decision of how to proceed until the 'sting' went down, Al called down to Steve that things were fine. A few minutes later, the father and son came back upstairs. Mark seemed a bit wary but didn't say anything. Al apologized, with Sam chiming in, for the way things had been the last day or so. They both expressed their appreciation for the two men putting up with them. Al offered to cook the dinner to make amends and his olive branch was accepted.

By the end of the night, peace had been restored to the Sloan household.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Sunday was by far a pleasant and unexciting day with TV watching, whether of sports or movies, being the most challenging activity. Sam for once actually took the advice of the others and spent a good deal of the day sleeping. By the end of the evening, Mark had given his agreement for the sting to be set up on Monday.

Monday, the tensions started building a bit as the 'news' of Sam's whereabouts was leaked in what seemed to be a random and accidental way. The crew at the Sloan house knew differently, of course. Everything was being arranged and performed in clockwork precision. Both Sam and Al had expected that by Monday night, the man would have made his move. Instead they had to deal with a few 'fans' of Dr. Beckett from CIT that were hoping to get their Time Magazines signed.

The police addressed that situation with Steve promising to try to get a few signatures later for the group. The rest of the day ended with no obvious sign of the perpetrator.

By Tuesday afternoon, everyone was on pins and needles. Everything was quiet with no sign that the serial killer was going to bite. Sam and Al had begun to falter in their agreement and a few small embers blazed before Al decided to go out to get a newspaper. Steve told him where a local shop was that carried the local paper. It was within easy walking distance. Al figured he'd be gone thirty minutes tops.

Sam was antsy waiting for something to happen. Several times he'd tried to go out on the deck to get some air but each time, Steve stopped him. A few minutes after Al left for his paper, he noticed that, for once, he was the only one in the room. He stealthily slipped over to the glass doors that led out to deck and looked out, scanning the view to see if there was any danger.

There weren't many people on the beach. Of the few that were there, he identified a couple as undercover police officers. Most of the rest of the people on the beach were down closer to the water's edge and out of clear sight. Figuring that there was really nothing to worry about for a quick break, Sam opened the door and stepped out, inhaling deeply of the sea air.

He moved over to one of the lounge chairs on the deck and stretched out on it enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his face. Al would probably get after him for not using any sunscreen but he didn't think he'd be outside long enough for it to matter before Steve found out where he was and chased him back inside. He figured five minutes, tops. Until that happened, he was going to make the most of it.

From the side of the house, a man came around the corner quietly. Sam's eyes were closed so he didn't hear him move quickly up the stairs. "Well, well. This is going to be easier than I expected." Sam's eyes opened to see the killer who had stabbed him a few days before. He was wearing baggy shorts and a splotchy red shirt.

"How did you," Sam started to ask but cut himself off when he identified what the red on the killer's shirt was. "Oh God."

QLQLQLQLQL

Steve had for the twentieth time that day, gone through the house, trying to consider where the weakest defense was. He knew he had the house covered, both inside and out. Maybe the guy just wasn't going to bite. It wasn't the first time such a sting had failed.

He considered the current situation once more and again was exasperated by the man at the heart of it all. When the killer didn't make his move on Monday, Sam had gotten more and more antsy and animated. Steve had stopped him from going outside at least six times that day. Before he'd started this latest circuit of the house, he'd radioed for Marv Springs to come in and watch Sam for a few minutes while he did he checks. Marv had agreed and signed off. Now that he'd checked the house, he moved back to the main room.

"Marv?" Steve called out. There was no answer. Feeling the hair stand up on his neck, he moved closer to the sliding glass door and was stunned by what he saw. "Oh shit!" he said to himself. Sam was out on the porch and what was worse, so was the very man they were hoping to catch. Problem was, he was in a position to do Sam harm.

Knowing better than to rush out, Steve just hoped they'd have enough time to stop him from doing what he was obviously here for. Getting on his radio, he immediately informed the rest of the task force what was going down. By the time he'd made his way around back, the situation had reached a stalemate.

QLQLQLQLQL

Sam swallowed dryly and in a flash realized just how stupid coming out on the deck without anyone knowing was. For the briefest moment, the guy's eyes flicked out towards the beach checking to see if anyone was coming. Sam took that moment to quickly roll off the lounge chair with the intention of running toward the door. He didn't count on the wound in his abdomen protesting the movement and doubled over briefly trying to hold back a gasp of pain. It was enough time for the killer to turn back and see him

"Oh no. You're not going anywhere, genius." The man grabbed him and pulled him into a hold. "I'm not letting you get away this time."

Sam aborted any effort to pull free when he felt the cold knife that was at his throat. The killer had pulled him around so that he was facing out at the beach. He saw Steve running toward them, weapon drawn. He also saw several others of the undercover officers moving in their direction as well.

Steve's voice called out, "Drop it!"

The man pulled Sam in tighter, twisting him again. "No way, man. You think I'm stupid here?"

Steve didn't answer his question not wanting to antagonize the man further. "There's a way out of this situation. Just let Dr. Beckett go and we can discuss it."

"No. I have a better idea. Why don't you just let Dr. Beckett and I leave? That's the only way I know you bastards won't shoot me."

"You really don't want to do this," Sam said in a low voice even though he knew it would probably have no effect.

The knife was pulled in closer on Sam's neck drawing just a thread of blood. "Shut up," the man snarled.

Alarmed, Steve was about to try once more to calm the killer when one of his task force crew came up behind him. His stomach fell as he heard whispered, "Marv's dead Throat's cut." Internally, Steve was berating himself. He hadn't waited for Marv to come into the house. He'd just assumed Marv was on his way inside before he had gone to check that everything was still in place. He looked back at the serial killer who now could add the title, 'cop killer' to his list of crimes. Outwardly he stated calmly, "Don't hurt him. We can't discuss anything if you hurt Dr. Beckett."

"You don't want him hurt, you let us go," the answer came back.

Realizing that he couldn't say anything that would help the situation, Sam held quiet. He briefly considered trying to use his martial arts training to break the hold he was in but quickly discarded the idea. The way the knife was held against his throat, he'd likely be dead before he could do anything.

Steve was about to answer when he saw movement behind the sliding glass door. Knowing where everyone was supposed to be, he wondered who it was.

QLQLQLQLQL

Al hadn't gotten but a block away when he realized that he hadn't brought his wallet. He turned around and walked back to the house. As he approached it, he was surprised that he didn't see any of the task force where he knew they were stationed. Quickly going into the house he called out, "Sam? Steve?" Mark he knew had gone down to the hospital for a few hours. He was supposed to arrive back anytime. Not getting an answer he moved further into the room.

He hadn't gone far when he saw the crowd of people outside below the deck. "What the hell?" he questioned.

It was then he saw it. A man was holding Sam. "Oh fuck!" he whispered intently to himself. Swallowing tightly, Al moved stealthily into the kitchen and retrieved Steve's gun.

He moved into a position where he had a decent shot of the killer. Every cell in his body told him to shoot, but he held it, hoping that the police would be able to end this standoff. Al could see that Steve was trying to talk to him. It didn't look to be going well, though.

QLQLQLQLQL

"So what's it going to be, Pig?" The killer asked, the knife digging in deeper.

"You know we can't let you leave with a hostage..." Steve started.

The killer grinned. "Yeah? Well then I don't have a whole lot to lose, do I?" He pulled Sam back towards the door and as he did, the angle changed.

Sam let out a little grunt of pain as the knife dug in a little harder. He could feel the collar of his t-shirt damp with the small amount of blood that was dripping from the wound.

QLQLQLQLQL

Al, on the other side of the door was watching closely. He'd known the man was holding Sam but now he could see the knife digging deeper into his friend's neck. "No!" Al cried out, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Steve, hearing Sam cry out and understanding that another murder was at hand gave the go ahead signal to his snipers. Neither had a clear shot, however. He was surprised when he heard a shot ring out.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Sam heard someone scream out then there was a loud bang. It was followed by a warm dampness on his the back of neck then he was shoved down to the ground by a heavy weight on his back.

Al rushed to the now shattered door and pulled it open, moving quickly to his friend. "Sam! Are you ok?! Sam!" He started to reach out to pull the body off but was pulled back by one of the police, who simultaneously knocked the gun from his other hand.

"Al?" Sam questioned. He tried top push whatever it was that was holding him down away.

A second police officer was next to Sam and was checking the pulse of the would be killer. Steve knew what he'd find. One couldn't have a head wound like Al had given him and survive. He moved up the stairs to the deck.

"Sam!" Al was struggling against the police officer. "Let me go, you nozzle. I'm not the bad guy here, he was!" Al cried out nodding to the dead weight lying on Sam. "I need to help my friend!"

"Let him go," Steve ordered.

The police officer looked at Steve but complied. Once Al was free he moved to Sam. The police had just pulled the man he'd shot off of Sam and he could now see clearly the wound seeping blood from his friend's neck. "We need a doctor here!" he called out.

Once the weight was taken off of him, Sam rolled over and saw Al crouching next to him. Just behind him he saw the body of the man who'd tried to kill him. The bullet wound to the head explained what the dampness he'd felt on his neck was. Quickly putting two and two together, he came to the assumption that Al had fired the shot. "You killed him," he half asked, half stated.

Al had taken off his shirt and was using it to try to stop the bleeding on Sam's neck. Plaintively he called again, "Where's a doctor when you need one?"

Sam stared up at Al dazed. "You've got blood on your hand," he mumbled.

"I had to Sam," he began explaining. "I had to kill him. I didn't have a choice. Don't you see?"

Sam blinked at Al innocently. "No. You're bleeding. There's blood on your hand."

Al looked at the hand Sam was looking at, seeing that his stitches had broken loose and he was indeed bleeding. "Yeah," he answered. "I guess there is."

"What in heaven's name is going on?" Mark asked as he stepped through the destroyed sliding doors and out on the deck. Seeing Sam and the blood on him, he eluded the officer who tried to stop him and knelt down next to the injured man. "What happened?" he asked again.

Steve looked over to his father. "Things didn't go as planned, Dad." His face was hard. That was an understatement. Marv Springs was dead and they didn't have anyone to stand trial for the brutal murders of so many others. The only good thing was that Sam Beckett wasn't dead as well. He was still pissed that Sam had come out on the deck but the truth was, if he hadn't, the bastard might have simply killed him inside the house.

Mark nodded to acknowledge what his son said but concentrated on Sam. He put his hand over Al's to pull the shirt back from Sam's neck. "Let me see." A small amount of blood welled up from the cut but it wasn't much. "It's a shallow cut," he said after examining it. He put the shirt back on the wound. "Shouldn't even need stitches." Seeing the blood on the front of Sam's shirt, he pulled the t-shirt up. "This, however, will need some," he said when he saw that the surgical tape that was over the stab wound had pulled free and blood had started to leak from it. "Have you called an ambulance yet?" he asked looking over to his son.

One of the police officers nodded. "Yes sir. They should be here any minute." He looked over to Steve. "Will you be arresting Admiral Calavicci?"

"No. He was acting on my authority," Steve answered.

Al looked over to Steve. He knew he'd pulled the trigger on his own volition when he'd seen that Sam was about to be killed. "I won't be arrested?" he repeated.

"Steve, I need a blanket," Mark stated pulling his son's attention to him. "And my medical bag. Can you get them for me?"

"No," said Steve to Al before walking into the house. "I'll get those for you Dad."

Sam tried to sit up but was held in place by Mark's hand. "Let me up," he mumbled. "I need to get up…make sure he didn't kill Al."

Al, now holding his hand which Sam had pointed was bleeding moved closer. "I'm fine Sam. You don't have anything to worry about now but getting better."

Sam nodded shallowly and stopped struggling to get up. He let his gaze wander around him, squinting at the bright sun overhead. "How come it's cold now," he wondered.

"You're a little shocky, Sam," Mark explained slowly. He gestured Al over closer asking him to hold the shirt in place while he checked Sam's pulse. "Steve's getting a blanket for you so we'll get that fixed right up."

"Yeah, Sam." Al said smiling lightly at his friend. A moment later Steve reappeared with the items which he handed to his father before excusing himself to finish up on his police work.

Mark had just finished draping the blanket over Sam when the wail of a siren stopped outside the house. He assumed it was the awaited ambulance. A minute later, his assumption was proven when two EMT's appeared at the broken door with a gurney. Sam was soon loaded on it. "I assume you'll want to ride with him," Mark asked as Al started following the EMT's.

"I'm not leaving him," Al acknowledged

QLQLQLQLQL

As the police continued to do the work they needed to do at the scene, media began to arrive. Seeing the gurney go by, Bob Daley, local news journalist asked Steve, "Wasn't that Sam Beckett?"

"I don't have time right now Daley and get back behind the tape," Steve brusquely responded. "This is a crime scene. You know the rules."

"Rules. The hell with the rules. If that's Dr. Sam Beckett, based on the 'leak' you made two days ago, I figure something's broken in that case. The people have a right to know."

Steve stopped short and turned abruptly getting in the reporter's face. "The people have a right?" he asked angrily. "And what about Dr. Beckett's rights? Don't forget. You're the one who compromised his safety in the first place. You don't care about informing anyone. All you care about is getting the breaking news story and raising your ratings."

Daley pulled back at Steve's onslaught. "Take it easy. I didn't know I was compromising his safety before. It was a good lead and all I did was report it. That's what we do, report."

"Save it Daley. You compromised a primary suspect in a string of homicides. You put his life in danger and this case." Steve took a step forward so he was nose to nose with the man. "Now get behind the tape now or I'll have you arrested for obstructing justice."

The reporter put his hands up and stepped back as Steve had ordered. "Fine. Fine. Eventually you'll have to cough up the specifics."

"A statement will be made shortly," Steve growled then turned from the reporter.

Daley told his crew to stick around in case something broke. He'd seen a man get into the ambulance with the injured man that Steve had to all practical purposes ID'd as Dr. Beckett. Mark Sloan had also been with the two men so the reporter figured they were on their way to Community General. He figured he might be able to pick up more information there.

The coroner had arrived and had finished examining Marv Springs. He was on his way over to the body of the serial killer but stopped for to talk to Steve. "Have you contacted Marv's wife yet?"

Steve looked sadly in the direction of the draped body of his colleague. "No, not yet. I'm going to drive over there. Lorraine deserves to hear it in person." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"Well, not that this is ever good but I don't think he suffered. From what I can tell he must have been surprised and didn't have the chance to struggle." The killer had been efficient and thorough. It had been one of the worst attributes of his MO.

Small comfort that is," Steve commented. He called one of the other officers over. "Finish up here, Joe and make sure we get an ID on our killer." He heaved a sigh. "I'm going to go tell Marv's wife then I'm heading to the hospital."

Joe nodded. "Yeah. I'll do what I can. I'll have to rely on fingerprints and perhaps dental records if there's enough left." He put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Let her know we're all saddened by her loss."

Having given his instructions, Steve moved toward his car and got in. He looked back at the crime scene once more and hit the steering wheel with palm of his hand. He was glad that the city would no longer face the danger of the killer but having to bury a good officer was a cost he didn't want to pay. With that he started the car and pulled out towards Marv's house.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The ambulance had arrived at Community General quickly and Sam was brought into the ER although they had stabilized him during the ride. He was certainly traumatized by the events and kept glancing at Al during the ride, although he didn't say anything.

Normally Al would have ridden up front but due to his hand being reinjured, they had allowed him in the back. He noticed Sam's glances but didn't give them much thought. Again, Sam was hurt and all Al wanted was things to get back to normal. Once they arrived at the hospital each man was taken to different rooms. Mark, who had followed the ambulance in his car, had gone with Sam to fix the reinjury to his stab wound. Al was seen by another doctor and then asked to wait in the waiting room until they had finished with Sam and knew how they would proceed. As usual, Al was antsy as he waited. He had taken the circuit around the room for the third time when he was approached by a man he recalled seeing but wasn't sure where.

"Excuse me. Are you here with Dr. Beckett?" the man asked approaching Al.

Al started to nod and then stopped. Maybe the killer had an accomplice. He wasn't going to put Sam in danger needlessly. "Who's asking?" he answered.

"I'm Bob Daly...a report with KCGY. So, are you with Dr. Beckett?" Daly asked again.

Now Al remembered. This was the nozzle that had leaked that Sam was in the hospital to begin with. "How did you know I was with Dr. Beckett? Get that from the same source when you almost got my friend killed?"

"Hey, hey," Daly said backing up with his hands out. "Just calm down. I didn't almost get your friend killed."

Al moved closer to him. "Your leak meant that bastard was able to get into Sam's room. If a doctor hadn't scared him off, he would have smothered him with a pillow."

Daly took a couple of steps back from the obviously irate man. "Why don't you take this up with the police? They should have been doing their job just like I was. I was just reporting the news."

"Reporting the news? Is that what you call it? Ever hear of responsible journalism?" Al turned away is disgust. His voice was barely loud enough to hear. "Good thing the killer's dead now. At least any leak won't put Sam in danger again."

Daly didn't comment on any of Al's insinuations. Instead, spying the bandage on his casually asked, "Hurt yourself?"

Al looked down at his hand recalling what had caused the need to restitch his hand. "Reinjured it helping the police to protect Dr. Beckett from that psycho." He was about to excuse himself when a nurse came out to get him.

"Admiral Calavicci?" she asked. When Al acknowledged that was his name she continued. "Dr. Sloan said you can come back now. Dr. Beckett is asking for you."

Al turned to the reporter again. "You'll excuse me?" He really didn't much care if the nozzle excused him or not. He was going to see Sam.

"I'll catch you later, Admiral," Daly called as Al walked away. He filed away any information he's just found out knowing it could be useful.

Al followed the nurse back to one of the curtained areas. As he walked in he saw Sam, leaning back on some pillows. He noticed that his friend no longer had the shirt on that he'd come in with but rather was wearing a hospital gown. "Hey, Kid. How you feeling?"

"Ok," Sam said in a voice just above a whisper. "Dr. Sloan says I have to stay tonight, though."

"Wise man. You had a pretty stressful day," Al said, trying to keep things as light as he could.

"Yeah," Sam said with a small nod. "I guess so." He looked at Al's hand now sporting a new, clean white bandage. "They fixed your hand?" he asked trying to deflect the subject away from him.

Al nodded. "Yeah." He looked back in the direction of the waiting room. "You won't believe who I met while I was waiting for Mark to finish." Mark hadn't been the room when Al had come back. He figured he was finishing up any of the paperwork necessary for the ER visit.

"Where'd the gun come from?" Sam asked not caring who Al had met in the waiting room. "You didn't bring it with you."

"What?" Al asked, confused.? He hadn't expected the question.

"I said…, where did you get the gun you used to shoot that...that...man?"

Al paused to consider how to answer. He and Sam had discussed their views on firearms before and he knew that Sam didn't see much use for them. Sam had hunted when he was younger but he said that was different. "I borrowed it from Steve," he finally answered, keeping his answer simple and to the point.

"When?" Sam asked pointedly. "When did you borrow it from him and why didn't I know?."

"A few days ago, Kid, after we learned the psycho had tracked us to the hotel. I didn't want there to be any possibility that I wouldn't be prepared if the situation called for it. As to why you didn't know, I didn't think I'd need to use it. Why worry you?"

"Yeah, why worry me," Sam agreed. He was just too tired and still to frazzled right now to confront Al for keeping the secret. "Do you know when they'll move me to a room?"

"I'm sure it'll be as soon as Mark can set it up, Sam."

Almost as if his words had brought him there, Mark Sloan walked into the curtained area, acknowledging Al before turning to Sam. "We've got a room for you, Sam. I know you're not crazy about hospitals but I want to monitor you at least one more day. We'll see tomorrow how you're doing."

Sam nodded shallowly. "I understand, Dr. Sloan." He looked over at Al. "Are you going to stay with me?" He had mixed feelings regarding what he wanted his friend's answer to be.

"I can," Al said. He wasn't sure but it seemed that Sam was somewhat more distant than normal.

"If you want." Sam turned to Mark. "Can I go home tomorrow? I mean, home back to New Mexico?"

Mark took a breath and let it out. "Why don't we decide that tomorrow, Sam. I promise, I want you to get your life back to normal as early as you can, but I don't want to compromise your health either."

"Ok," Sam agreed again. Two orderlies came in the room then to move him to his room. As they started pushing the gurney, he called out to Al. "Are you coming with me?"

Mark signaled the two orderlies to stop and moved to stand by Sam. He smiled at the younger man gently. "I'm going to take Al doctor's lounge and get him a good cup of coffee while they get you settled in. Then I'll bring him right up."

Al was about to agree with Sam when Mark prevented him. "Yeah, Sam. I'll be up in a minute." He wasn't sure what Mark wanted but he'd go along with it.

Once the gurney was moved from the curtained area, Mark put his hand on Al's arm to guide him to the lounge. He made some general small talk with him assuring him that physically Sam would be fine until they were both seated at the table with cups of coffee. "I think it might be a good idea for Sam to talk with Dr. Stockton."

"Who's Dr. Stockton?" He wondered if this would be yet another specialist Sam could add to his growing list.

"She a psychologist on staff here at the hospital. I don't know Sam as well as you do but this really seems to be affecting him...not that it shouldn't." Mark took a sip from the mug. "I just wanted to see if you thought it might be a good idea. Maybe this is normal for him when he's upset and I'm just reading too much into how he's acting."

Al considered how much of Sam's history he should let Mark know. Considering they'd just spent the last several days living at his home, he figured that it would be ok to tell him what he thought pertained. "Sam's been talking to someone back in NM but I'm not sure how easy he'd take to another psychologist. Sam has some negative history with them that goes back sometime."

"We'll keep Dr. Stockton on hold then," Mark quickly said. "There's no reason to add to his upset." He wondered how much more there was to the two men who'd been his house guests. He was beginning to believe he'd barely scratched the surface getting to know them.

"Thanks. I'm sure that Sam and Bena will have a lot to talk about after this. If we'll be going back home sooner than later, then she'll be able to work with him." Al took on a decidedly thoughtful look. He decided to see how his saving his friends life was being perceived by his buddy. "Did Sam say anything to you about what happened today?"

"Not much. I felt like I was lucky to get him to answer my questions about how he was feeling."

"Sounds like the Kid," Al agreed. "When things are bothering him, he doesn't share his thoughts easily." He took a final sip of his coffee. "You think they're got him into the room now?"

Mark finished his coffee and stood up. "He's probably settled. I'll take you up there."

Al smiled. "Thanks." He looked down for a moment. "I know this has been a difficult time for you as well, Mark."

"Not as difficult as it's been for you and Sam." The two men had reached the elevator bank and Mark pushed the call button. "I just wish there was more that could have been done."

"Well...from my perspective you went a lot further than most would." The elevator arrived and both men stepped on. "Do you really think he can be released tomorrow?"

"Like I said to Sam," Mark said as he leaned over to push the floor button, "It's going to depend on how he is tomorrow. I closed up the abdominal wound again. He didn't lose much blood from that or the one on his neck. That one didn't even need stitches. Still, this has allall has to be a shock to him. I want to make sure he's stable and going to stay that way before I release him."

"I get ya, Doc. I'll just say from experience, if he needs to stay, you'll likely have a fight on your hands. If that happens, I'll do what I can to back you up." He was glad to hear that the neck wound had been superficial.

"I thought for sure he'd push me to release him but he didn't. Didn't even suggest it so maybe that fight won't be coming." The elevator doors opened on the floor and they walked out. Mark led the way to Sam's room and stopped outside of it. "He might be a little groggy. I ordered a sedative for him to make sure he gets some rest."

Al nodded before walking into the room. He found Sam lyinglaying back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling and fighting sleep. "Hey, Kid. Nice room."

"Uh huh," Sam replied as he slowly tracked his eyes over to where Al was. He stared for a moment fighting the blurriness. "They gave me something," he said by way of explanation although it wasn't needed. "Makes me sleepy and everything's sorta fuzzy."

"Yeah...it's because you need to sleep. Now that you don't have anyone to worry about, just close those green eyes of your and sleep to your heart's content."

"That's all I've been doing." Sam was clearly frustrated that if it wasn't his body physically calling for sleep, now it was the drug he'd been given. "I'm tired of sleeping." He chuckled lightly when he realized what he'd said. "Tired of sleeping," he repeated when Al looked at him strangely.

"Oh. That's a good one, Sam," Al said smiling. He remembered that drugs tended to make the kid say the strangest things.

As Sam continued to drop closer to unconsciousness, a loud sound of a heavy tray or some other object dropping came from the hallway. Sam jolted upright when he heard the noise and looked around wildly. "Al? Where are you?"

Al moved closer to the startled man, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Right here, Sam. I'm right here." He pushed him down gently back into his pillow as he soothed "It was just something dropping, Kid. Nothing to be worried about."

Sam allowed himself to be guided back down to the bed. He nodded his head in agreement but there was some uncertainty. "I'm…I'm ok," he said shakily.

"Good," Al said, continuing to talk softly to his friend and rearranging the blanket over him. "Just close your eyes and float off to dreamland. I'll be here when you wake up."

Sam's eyes had no sooner closed then he opened them again seeking out Al. "Don't wanna sleep right now."

"What d'ya mean you don't want to sleep. You said the stuff they gave ist making you sleepy."

"Cause they'll do stuff if I go to sleep. Stuff so I can't go home."

"Like what?" Al asked. HeAl knew Sam didn't like the hospital but this was beginning to sound paranoid to him.

"I don't know," Sam slurred. He rolled over to his side momentarily getting the IV that had been started tangled in the blanket. He continued trying to battle to stay awake but it wasn't working. "They operate when you go to sleep. Don't let 'em put any more metal in me, k? I don't want anymore."

Al reached over to help untangle the IV. "K, Sam. I promise. No more metal." Not sure why Sam would say something like that, he figured that maybe he'd spoken too soon about the psychologist. Maybe the shock of almost being killed by the psycho had pushed Sam over the edge this time.

"Good 'cause then I can't go to the airport 'cause the thing'll go 'beep beep beep'." Sam opened one eye a crack to peer at Al curiously. "You know the thing that beeps. Can't 'member what it's called. But it goes 'beep, beep, beep' but real loud."

Al scrunched his face, "The metal detector?"

"Yup. That's it." Sam reached down and tapped his left leg. "I already make it go beep and then people look at me."

"Don't worry about anything, Kid," said Al. "I've got your back."

"Ok," Sam agreed. He rolled over a bit further. "If you got it, you can rub it so it's not sore anymore." He paused and, out of the blue told his friend, "Mom used to read _Green Eggs and Ham _to me when I was a little kid." The sedative had so relaxed and muddled him, he wasn't even aware he wasn't making much sense anymore. "I will not eat it, Sam I am," he quoted from the children's book.

Al swallowed. He hoped that this was all coming from the drugs they had given Sam 'cause if it wasn't...well, after Sam was asleep, he'd see if he could talk to Mark. In the meantime he moved over the bed, pulled down the safety rail and sat on the edge. "That's a good book." As he talked he rubbed his friend's back. "Ok Kid. You just relax and go to sleep, ok?"

"Mmmm hmmm," Sam sighed as his eyes finally closed and stay closed. A moment later, a soft snore escaped him.

Al continued to rub his back a few minutes before getting up and adjusting the blankets. Knowing how Sam would fling himself around when he slept, he put the sides up before going out into the hall and approaching the nurse's station. "Do you know if Dr. Sloan is still around?"

"I can page him for you," the nurse offered.

"Please do." He turned and looked back to Sam's room. "I'm worried about my friend."

"Just a moment, Sir."

The nurse made the page and a few minutes later Mark came striding up the hall to the nurses' station. Seeing Al standing there, he rightly guessed he was waiting for him. "Something wrong with Sam?" he asked as he got closer.

"Can we go somewhere a little more, private?" Al said, his eyes darting over to the nurses who were going about their work. If it wasn't the drugs, he didn't want anyone treating Sam strangely. That would just make this situation worse.

"Sure," Mark agreed. "There's a consultation room at the end of the hall. We can go there." He looked at Al curiously wondering what had him so agitated. "If something's wrong with Sam, it's probably better that I check him, though."

"He's asleep right now. I don't think anything's wrong…at least physically. It's what he was saying before he fell asleep that has me worried."

"I don't think I understand." Mark gestured Al in the direction of the consultation room. Once they were both inside and he'd shut the door he asked, "What did Sam say that's upset you?"

"Well he was going to sleep just fine and then someone dropped something out in the hall. It spooked him. I tried to calm him down and but then he started to fight sleep. He was sure that if he went to sleep in the hospital, he'd wake up with more metal inside him. He made me promise not to let anyone do that." Al looked down. "It just got weirder after that."

Mark smiled gently at Al. Given the trying time they'd been going through, it was natural that Al would worry about the unusual behavior. "I wouldn't worry too much. The sedative can explain his odd behavior." He remembered that Sam had mentioned past hospitalizations and assumed this probably wasn't the first time his patient had received a sedative. "Is this any different from how he's acted in the past with strong medications?"

Feeling relief at Mark's words, Al relaxed a little but not entirely. "Well, Sam usually gets goofy on strong medications but not like this. He's usually just really funny even when he doesn't mean to be. This time it was like he was frightened. Really frightened." He paused, "I was wondering if maybe talking to that Dr. Stockton would be a good idea after all."

"I can ask her to come by. Of course, it's going to have to be Sam's decision. To set your mind at ease, though, the same drug can have different effects on the same person. It may be that given all that Sam's experienced the last several days, his fear was heightened instead of his humor." Mark studied Al for a moment. "Is it possible that if circumstances were different, you might have found what he said funny?" He was wondering if it might not be a bad idea for Al to talk with Dr. Stockton as well.

"Aside from _Green Eggs and Ham_ and beeping, no. I don't think I'd have found it funny."

Mark crinkled his brow when he heard what Sam had been talking about. "I don't think I even want to know how those two things are remotely connected." He leaned back in this chair running his finger over his moustache as he thought. "How about if we see how he's doing when he wakes and what he wants to do. If he's still acting weird, as you put it, I'll have Dr. Stockton come by."

"Ok. That sounds good." Al paused and looked a Mark a moment. "I guess you think I'm being overprotective again, right?"

"No," Mark quickly disagreed. "I just think you're being a really good friend and right now, I think that's what Sam's going to need the most."

"Well, he doesn't need to worry about that. I'll be there, no matter what."

"I had notno doubt." Mark got up and started toward the door satisfied that Al didn't have anymoreany more concerns right now.. "I'm sure you're anxious to get back to his room. I've advised the nursing staff that you'll be here past visiting hours."

"Thanks, Mark." Al started to walk to the door but then paused. "You talked to Steve since it all went down?"

"No, I haven't had a chance," Mark replied as he pulled the door open. "He's supposed to be coming by, though."

Al nodded. "I just want to know what happened. I left to get a newspaper and all hell breaks loose."

"I'd like to know what happened as well." Before Mark could say anything else, he was paged to the ER. "I have to go. I'll be by later to check on Sam."

"Ok. You know where to find us."

QLQLQLQLQLQL

It was early evening when Steve arrived at the hospital. He'd spent some time with Lorraine Springs when he'd told her of her husband's death. He'd known Marv and Lorraine for a number of years.

After that, he'd gone by the station and ended up filling out incident reports for the next two hours and explaining to the captain why it was that a civilian had been one to take the kill shot.

After arriving at the hospital, he was directed to the room Sam was in and went there knowing he'd also find Al Calavicci there as well. He still needed to get statements from both of them for the incident reports.

Arriving at the room, he knocked softly on the door before pushing it open and walking in. "He sleeping?" he asked in a low voice.

A nurse had brought Al one of the paperback novels that tended to collect around hospital waiting rooms and he'd been reading it to pass the time. He looked up and saw Steve. "Yeah. Whatever your Dad gave him has him deep in la la land."

"I haven't had a chance to talk with Dad, yet." He gestured to Sam, "Is he going to be ok?"

Remembering his conversation with Mark, he looked over to Sam. "I hope so." He turned back to Steve. "What the hell happened? I thought you had everything under control. I wouldn't have left if didn't feel I could trust you to protect him." His voice held disappointment and some anger.

"Everything was under control," Steve said with an edge to his voice. "Everything was going to plan."

"Oh really? It was always your plan to let that bastard get close enough to Sam to put a knife to his throat? What if he'd pressed deeper? What if he'd decided to finish the job while you were talking to him?"

"Maybe if your friend hadn't decided to take a walk outside and make himself an easy target it wouldn't have gotten that far." Like Al, Steve's voice also was becoming more strident. "In case you haven't noticed it, Calavicci, he's damned stubborn...unless you've found some way of getting him to stay put. I can't keep a situation under control when my protected witness decides to just take a walk. And the reason why I was just 'talking' to that scum is that I didn't have a clean shot. Would you rather I fired through Sam? That would have kind of defeated the purpose."

This was a surprise to Al. Yeah, Sam could be stubborn but it didn't feel right for Steve to be blaming him. "He what? You going to tell me that he was able to go out without anyone seeing him?"

"I left the room for two minutes," Steve said in a clipped voice. "I told him to stay put. I told him to stay away from the doors and windows. Apparently he didn't listen to me and he almost got himself killed and one of my men is dead."

If the previous statement had surprised him, this news hit Al like a fist. "He killed one of your people?"

"Yeah, he did. I just came back from letting his wife know what happened." He unconsciously rubbed his hand over his face, which had shown the stress he felt from that encounter.

Unbeknownst to the two men, Sam had woken up during their heated exchange. His waking had been just in time to hear Steve state that one of the officers who had been guardingbeen guarding him was dead. He'd also caught what, to him, sounded like accusation. "I'm sorry," came unbidden to his lips.

The other two men whirled in the direction of the bed when they heard the softly voiced apology. Al quickly approached the bed and rested his hand on Sam's forearm rubbing it gently. He saw the sorrow in his friends green eyes and immediately felt bad for having had any kind of discussion with Steve in the room. That should have waited until they'd gone outside. "Hey, you're awake," he said softly. "How ya feeling?"

Sam looked from Al to Steve. Ignoring his friend's question, he again apologized. "I didn't want anyone else to die. I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

Realizing that Sam could have misconstrued what he'd overheard as putting the blame for Marv Spring's death on him, Steve also moved closer to the bed. Like Al, he regretted not holding off on the discussion until he and Al had been outside the room where Sam wouldn't have been disturbed or misunderstood. "It's not your fault, Sam," he quickly reassured. "You're not responsible for Marv's death. I don't think any of us banked on just how ruthless this scum was." He saw that his words were having no effect and sought a different way to take Sam's guilt away. "It's likely he'd gotten to Marv before you went outside, Sam. I had…um…just spoken to him and he was fine then. It wasn't your fault." He paused just a moment then continued, "It's likely that if you'd stayed inside, he may have gotten you too. It wasn't your fault," he reiterated a third time.

Al looked over to Steve as he provided a piece of information he hadn't shared before. "What the hell? You mean Sam..." He trailed off as he saw the pain in his friend's eyes deepen.

"Still my fault," Sam insisted. He fumbled with the controls on the bed until he was sitting. "The whole thing was my idea. If I hadn't wanted to play bait, he wouldn't have known where I was and he wouldn't have killed that man."

Al looked Sam, now facing the consequence of his choice. The worst part about it was he was right. Still, the killer was gone and wouldn't be terrorizing the city anymore. "If you hadn't decided to put yourself in that position, maybe even more would have died, Sam. I doubt he would have stopped his robberies."

Sam nodded silently conceded that at least in some small way Al was right. It didn't change the fact that a man was dead - two men if you counted the killer - and his best friend had been forced to shoot to kill. An awful lot of responsibility for what happened rested squarely on his shoulders and as far as he could see, there was no way he could atone for it. "If I hadn't been so single-minded about Motts, we should have been in New Mexico and none of this would have happened. That girl would still be alive and the officer who was killed." It slipped his mind that had he not walked into that gas station when he did, the girl would have been dead anyway.

"Whether you were here on in New Mexico, that girl would have been killed," Steve pointed out rationally. "A lot more people probably would have been killed, too, if it weren't for your help. Stop blaming yourself for what happened. Only one man's at fault for it."

"Yeah, Sam. Steve's right." He still wasn't happy about hearing that had Sam actually followed the rules that he'd likely be dead by now. Still, that hadn't happened. No need to borrow trouble with water underneath the bridge.

Faced with the prospect of both men hammering at him until he agreed, Sam again nodded although he had his reservations.

Steve decided that right now probably wasn't the best time to get statements from either of the two men. Tomorrow would be early enough for that. "Look, I just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing. I'll let you rest now. Al, you know you're welcome to stay at the beachouse tonight unless you're planning on staying here."

Al smiled kindly. "Thanks but I think I'd better stay."

"Well, if you change your mind, the offer stands. Try to get some rest, Sam. I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

Sam waved slightly as Steve turned to leave the room. "You can go back to the house if you want," he offered Al when the door closed behind Steve.

"That's ok." With this latest piece of information he was worried that there would be a nightmare tonight. He didn't want to leave Sam alone.

"Thanks," Sam said sincerely. Having company would definitely be welcomed. Unless Mark planned on sedating him again, he didn't foresee much sleep in his future tonight. "Did I miss dinner," he wondered. "Not that that's necessarily a bad thing," he added as he remembered how bad the breakfast was that he'd had the morning he was released the first time and how Mark and Jesse had both stated unequivocally that the food here was definitely not good.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah although after what Dr. Sloan and Jesse said, I'm not really looking forward to the food here. You think there's any place around here you could get me a sandwich or something from?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Yeah. I can do that. You want a sub or a burger?"

Sam immediately pounced on Al's offer to get him food. "Turkey, extra mayo and maybe some chips?"

"Boy, you really don't want to eat here, do ya," Al said with a chuckle. "You want a cookie too?"

"Chocolate chip." Sam didn't even wait until the question was fully out of Al's mouth before answering it. "And some milk."

"Ok, Ok. Fine. Be back as soon as I can." He shook his head and walked over to the door. He turned back again. "You gonna be ok?"

"I'll be fine and don't forget to get something for yourself."

As the door closed behind Al, Sam located the remote for the TV and turned it on. He idly started to flip through the channels not expecting to find anything interesting but hoping just the same. He stopped when the scene on a local news broadcast looked familiar to him. Someone was being loaded into an ambulance and he recognized that someone as himself. He hadn't realized the news had been at the scene so quickly and wondered if there's been a news crew staking out the beachouse waiting for a story to break. After the reporter gave the basic facts about what had happened a still photo flashed. Sam recognized it as an older picture of Al in his full admiral's uniform.

"Preliminary reports indicate that Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci fired the shot that killed the accused suspect from inside the house without police knowledge. Initial reports from the police indicate that a full investigation regarding the shooting is underway. It's unknown at this time if criminal charges will be brought against Admiral Calavicci. It is rumored that a police officer was killed as well although the name has not yet been released. For KCGY, this Bob Daly reporting."

As the report ended and the local weather forecast began, Sam stared at the TV numbly. No one had said anything about the possibility of criminal charges being brought against Al. His appetite vanished with the thought that his friend's life could be destroyed because of him. He lifted up the remote and switched off the TV and sat in stunned silence until Al came back.

About thirty minutes later, Al walked in with three bags. "They had the cookies on sale so I bought a few more," he said before noticing the look on Sam's face. "What's wrong, Kid?"

"It was on the news," Sam said slowly. "He said they might arrest you...charge you for shooting that man."

"What?" Al asked, his forehead scrunched. "That's not what Steve said afterwards. What news channel?"

"He said KCGY. The reporter's name was Daly...Bob Daly." Sam's face reflected the confusion and uncertainty he was feeling. "Why would they arrest you, Al? You shot him because he was going to kill me."

When Al heard the man's name it was obvious he wasn't happy about it. He put the bags down on Sam's table as he exclaimed, "That Nozzle! I can't believe he did that just because I wouldn't talk to him. He almost gets you killed and then he pulls this stunt?" Not having heard Sam's question but seeing his face he asked, "What?"

"Nnnnothing," Sam stuttered when he saw how upset and angry Al had become. "It's nothing."

"Saaam. Don't coddle me. It's something." He knew he was somewhat out of control but didn't care. "I've got a mind to sue that scum sucking 'reporter.'"

"No, it's nothing," Sam again repeated. He looked warily at Al unsure if it was wise to upset his friend.

"Fine. Don't tell me." He started to pace.

Sam reached for the bag Al had put on the table and opened. "Is there extra mayo?"

"Huh? Wha..." He saw what Sam was doing. "Yeah. Extra mustard too if you want it." He paced a few more time. "You know, it's not like I did anything criminal anyways. If I hadn't acted, that bastard would have..." He stopped again and all of the energy seemed to drain out of himof him. He finished quietly, "...would have killed you."

Finding the extra packets of mayo at the bottom of the bag, Sam put them aside and unwrapped the sandwich. "So you killed him instead," he pointed out in a barely heard voice.

"Damn right I did!" Al answered intently.

At the sound of Al's voice, Sam flinched back convulsively squeezing the packet of mayo that he'd just opened. It squirted out on the table. He flicked his eyes up to Al then back down at the mess he'd made then grabbed a napkin to wipe it up. He opened his mouth to speak but thought the better of what he'd been about to say and shut it with an almost audible snap.

"What, Sam?. That's twice you haven't been willing to say what you're thinking."

"It's nothing, Al. I don't want to talk about it, ok." He opened another packet of mayo to put on the sandwich. "Did you get something for yourself?" He tried to make his voice sound as casual as possible without revealing any of the jumpiness he was feeling. "You probably haven't eaten for a while either.

"Yeah. Mine's in the other bag." He reached to get it.

Sam didn't say anything else but started to eat his sandwich. Every now and then, he'd glance over at Al nervously. "They didn't have any milk?" he asked eventually asked into the silence.

"It's in the other bag, Sam. With the cookies." He noticed Sam acting strangely. "What?"

Sam sighed then responded, "Nothing, ok. Would you stop asking me that? I think itsit's worse thenthan when you constantly check to see if I'm sick or something."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? You keep looking at me like I'm about to sprout horns or something."

"I do not." Sam made a conscious effort not to look in his friend's direction concentrating instead on his food. "You're imagining it."

"Right. I'm imagining it. How long we known each other now?"

"What does that have to do with anything? I'm sorry I'm not as…happy as you'd like me to be right now. I'll work on changing that." There was a definite note of sarcasm in Sam's voice. "Maybe you can just get them to drug me again and change my mood that way."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean." Al's eyes widen. "You think I told Mark to drug you, don't you. That's why you made me promise not to allow them to put anything else in you while you were asleep."

"What?" Sam was clearly confused by Al's words. "What the hell are you talking about - put something in me?"

"That's what you said. 'Don't let them put anything metal in me while I'm asleep.' You think I want these things to keep happening to you, Sam?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't say anything about putting anything in me. You're talking in riddles."

"That what you said before you went to sleep earlier. You didn't want the metal detector to beep. Had me scared that you'd..." He stopped. He knew how Sam felt whenever he questioned if the stress had gotten to be too much for the Kid.

"I said that?" Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise when he heard what he'd said while under the influence of the sedative. "You're not just pulling my leg?"

"Do I look like I'm pulling your leg?" Al questioned.

"No. What...uh...what else did I say."

"You said that they'd do something just to keep you in the hospital, that you didn't want to go beep in the metal detector, and something about that kid's book, Sam-I-Am."

"I don't remember any of that. Why would I say all that?"

Al shrugged. "I don't know but it sounds like you don't think that what I did was right."

"I didn't say that. It' just…you killed a man!"

Al nodded. "I've done it before, back in 'Nam. It's not something I'd wanted to do but sometimes, it has to be done." He paused. "You really think I would have let him kill you?"

"That's not the point, it's just..." Sam pressed his lips together and looked down as he collected his thoughts. After a moment he raised his head to look at his friend. "I know you've killed before. Intellectually, I've known that for a long time. It's just...I saw this time and I heard it and I felt it. It wasn't just an intellectual thing anymore. It was real." Although he knew he wasn't expressing himself as well as he could, he hoped Al could understand him and know that he really wasn't judging him.

"That is the point, Sam. What you're saying is that you were able to distance yourself from it so it wasn't really a tangible thing to you. You're saying it was like reading it in a novel or something." He licked at his lips, "But the thing is, Sam, when there is good cause to do something and there's no other choice, no matter how heinous it might seem to some, it's got to be done. That bastard would have killed you. Under the circumstances, I made the right call."

"Why is my life worth more than his? Why do I get to live but he has to die?" The questions Sam asked were heartfelt. He just couldn't accept that his life was worth more than the killer's no matter what the man had done.

"You kidding me?" Al asked. When he quickly realized that Sam was serious he shook his head. "No, Sam. There is evil in the world. Real evil. I've lived through it. When

faced with that...call me whatever you want, but it deserves to be crushed mercilessly. By the same token, I know there is real good in the world as well and if anyone gets to be in that corral, you're there in spades."

"Why?" Sam demanded. "Name one thing I've done that makes me better besides the fact that I'm your friend."

"This, right now," Al quickly responded back.

The cryptic answer only served to heighten Sam's confusion. "Don't play games. I'm really not up to it right now."

Al let out a long breath. He pulled down the guard rail on the bed and sat down next to Sam. "I'm not playing games with you, Sam. This is too important to play games about. You want to know what makes you better than that nozzle. It's because of what you're doing right now. You care enough to question why any life has to be taken. The fact that a life was lost, no matter how evil that person was, has you all tied up in knots. Do you think that nozzle would have cared half as much as you do if the situation were reversed? He wouldn't," he answered quickly before Sam could. "He wouldn't give a rat's ass if you were alive or dead because he gave no value to any human life besides his own. That's what sets you apart, Sam, makes you better. You care about every soul on this planet and you value them all the same whether they deserve it or. I should know. If it weren't for that, I'd probably have ended up drinking myself to death without a friend in this world."

Sam felt humbled by Al's words and how highly his friend thought of him. However, he still felt…guilt, it was the only word he could think of. He felt that somehow the guilt that not only had a man died but that Al had been forced to take that life fell squarely on his shoulders. "I…I don't know what to say, Al. I don't think I can ever accept that someone had to die but that's my problem, not yours." His green eyes were intent as he looked at his friend. "You need to know, I don't think ill of you because of this. I never could. I just…I just wish no one else had to die."

"I know that, Sam," Al said as he patted Sam gently on the shoulder. "You need to come to your own peace about this and I know that's going to take you a little time. I'll be here while you're getting there, Kid."

"I know you will." Sam reached up to hold onto the hand on his shoulder. "That's something I could never doubt."

QLQLQLQLQLQL

Sam was released from the hospital the next day. He and Al stayed with Mark and Steve at the beach house for another two days until Sam was deemed strong enough to travel back to New Mexico. Now that the pressure of how best to protect Sam was gone, Steve and Al hit it off remarkably well.

The evening before the two friends flew back to New Mexico, they took Mark, Steve, Amanda and Jesse out to dinner to thank them for all of the help they'd provided and they care that they'd given Sam.

Sam also heard back from Robb Motts. Although he wouldn't be able to commit to Project Quantum Leap now, he'd assured him that as soon as he tied up some loose ends with his current position, he'd be excited to come on to the project. He estimated he'd be ready to sign on in a few more months. Although it would delay Sam's plans slightly, he was willing to wait.

Steve and Mark accompanied the two friends to the airport. As their flight was called, Mark extracted a promise from them that they'd come out to LA again soon to visit. "We'd love to," Sam assured him then looked over to Al, a sly smile on his face. "Al didn't get much time this time to ogle the women on the beach. I can't deprive him of that." The four men were laughing when the call came for Sam and Al to board.

Although the some of the time spent in LA may have seemed dire, Sam and Al were sure of one thing. They'd made new friends…good friends.

As the plane took off down the runway, Al glanced over at Sam. He had his head tilted back, his eyes closed and he almost looked relaxed. Only someone who knew him well would be able to recognize it was one of his coping methods for flying.

Al took the time afforded to study his friend. Sam looked a bit on the battered side but Al knew he'd overcome that. In time, he'd come to his separate peace regarding the events that had occurred and their friendship would only be the stronger for it.

*FINIS*


End file.
