


God Rest You Merry Gentlemen

by QLTales



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-13
Updated: 2008-12-23
Packaged: 2013-07-20 15:51:08
Rating: K+
Chapters: 15
Words: 83,541
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4714235/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1152557/QLTales
Summary: It's early days in Sam's and Al's friendship and Sam finds himself down on his luck after a series of mishaps. The two men spend the holidays together and start to get to know each other better.





	1. Chapter 1

**God Rest You Merry Gentlemen**

By: QLTales (ASearcher & Dulcinea1969)

_Authors' Note: This story does not take place in the same "universe" established in the other stories authored by QLTales._

**Chapter 1**

It was a brisk morning as Al drove up to the complex where Sam lived. As he had the last two mornings, he was giving his newest friend a ride to the lab since the kid's car was in the shop - again.

As he parked his car in front of the building, he looked around and frowned. Sam lived on the outskirts of town and there was no denying it was the low-rent district. It was rare that Sam would invite him over and he always got the idea the kid was more than a little embarrassed by where he was living.

Personally, Al hated the apartment building where his friend lived. It wasn't that he found it offensive to come to Sam's apartment or that he was "slumming it". He just felt Sam deserved so much better than this.

As he got out of the car and took the stairs up to Sam's apartment, he let his mind wander back over the last several months and his first meeting with Sam. He'd been drunk...again...and had taken a hammer to a vending machine when it ate his dime but didn't give him his M&M's. He'd been ready to nail the offending machine for a fourth time when his downward swing had been intercepted by a young man who mildly pointed out that the bag of M&M's had fallen free.

That was his first meeting with one Dr. Samuel Beckett despite the fact that he'd been the one to hire him. When an opening for another quantum physicist on staff had come up, Al had been too lazy to do any of the legwork to hire someone. He attributed that to the bottle too. He'd contacted the alumni office at MIT and they, in turn, had pointed him to one of his old professors, Dr. Sigmund LoNigro. After talking about old times for a bit, the academic had recommended Sam Beckett. He sent out an offer letter to him the next day - sight unseen. Had he spent more of his time sober and thought about what he was doing, he would have realized just how idiotic that plan was and would have questioned the fact that the offer was accepted so quickly - also sight unseen. Hiring Sam was probably the only good thing that ever came out of his near-constant inebriated state.

Two weeks after the first inauspicious meeting, when the project director and the oversight committee wanted him removed from the StarBright project due to the growing problem of his drinking and the drop in his performance, it had been Sam who'd come forward putting his own career and reputation on the line to save his job. Not only that, but the kid had made him his pet project pushing at him to clean up his act and get sober. It was because of Sam that he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in the last month and half and was living it one day at a time.

He knocked on the door to Sam's apartment and waited to be let in. When Sam pulled the door open he already had his coat on. "Geez, you're in a hurry to get going. I'm not that late," Al joked as he walked into the apartment. As he did, he noticed how chilly it seemed even though he was inside.

"No, I'm not ready," Sam replied as he shut the door behind his friend. "I still need to eat breakfast."

Al turned to eye his friend, again noting that he had his coat on. "So what's with the coat, then?" He rubbed his hands together. "You trying to save money by turning the heat off? I thought it was included in your rent."

"It is but when I got home last night, it wasn't working. Mr. Duff says he can't get it fixed until after Christmas."

"Christmas! That's going to be at least another 4 days!" Al noticed that Sam's hair was damp and guessed, despite the lack of heat, that he'd taken a shower that morning. "You must have frozen your butt off getting out of the shower."

"There's no hot water, either," Sam explained from the kitchen area of the small apartment. He was pouring cereal into a bowl. "It's something with the gas so no heat, no hot water, and no stove."

"So you took a cold shower in an apartment with no heat?" The older man was aghast at the prospect.

"No. I walked over to the Y and took a shower there," Sam stated as if it were the most natural response.

"You walked....Sam, that has to be at least a mile and half that you walked both ways! What the hell time did you get up this morning?"

Sam shrugged in response, "I don't know? Maybe around five thirty or so."

Al shook his head slightly at Sam's answer. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that the younger man would get up that early just so he could walk over to the Y and not bother anyone. "What are you doing even staying here? Your landlord should be paying for a hotel room for you."

"I guess," Sam agreed noncommittally. "But he's not and I can't afford one right now." He looked around the small apartment not for the first time embarrassed that Al was seeing it. "It wasn't so bad. I put a couple extra blankets on my bed last night.

"Not so bad," Al echoed softly. Louder, he continued, "You shouldn't even be here, Sam. I keep telling you, you gotta get a better place."

Sam grabbed the milk from the fridge and came back over to the table. "It's fine here," he answered quickly going on the defensive. "I can save money since the rent's not that high."

"Kid, what do you need to save money for that you'd live like this?"

"My own home," came the soft response. Sam opened the carton of milk and started to pour it over the cereal but stopped when the smell caught his attention. He put the carton to his nose, sniffed it then slammed it on the table near the bowl and sank into the closest chair. "Darn it, the milk's bad." He took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. "Nothing's going right this morning. Nothing."

Al watched the man who, from the moment he'd met him, seemed to have the ability to handle anything thrown at him - even taking on things that most would not - reach a point he understood. He owed the kid. He knew that and seeing him now he quickly decided what had to be done. "Go pack a bag," he ordered. "You're staying with me until they get your heat fixed." When Sam looked like he was going to balk, Al called on his best admiral's voice and ordered, "Move it, Mister." The tone of voice caught the younger man by surprise and he quickly moved to comply.

"You don't have to do this," Sam said in the same soft voice when he came back from the small bedroom carrying a duffel bag. "I'll be ok 'til they get everything fixed. Really."

"No. You shouldn't have to go through this," Al said from the sink where he'd poured the offensive milk down the drain before throwing the cereal in the trash. "Besides, I have the room."

"If you're sure." Sam dropped the bag down on the couch and moved to the kitchen area. "Just let me see if I can find something I can eat. I think I have some bread I can make toast with."

"We don't have time, Sam," Al said looking at his watch. "Remember you have that meeting with Ron Maxwell?" He took the bag. "Come on. We can pick something up on the way in."

"Darn it! I forgot about the meeting." Sam went running back into the bedroom and came out with a pile of folders. "I'm not ready for it. I was gonna go over this stuff when I got home last night but then the heat was out and I had to call Mr. Duff then my mom called and...and...I guess I just forgot." He hung his head shaking it slightly. "I blow this meeting and Dr. Stevens might be washing me out."

"You're not going to blow the meeting, kid. We can go over the data on the way to the lab." Smiling, he added, "If your memory is as good on this as it was on the electronics schematics, you'll be in like Flint." Al started to exit the apartment. "Let's go."

"Hang on a second," Sam called as Al walked out the door. He found a shopping bag near the refrigerator and put the small pile of Christmas gifts that were on the end table into it. "If I'm staying with you 'til the heat's fixed, I guess I should bring these with me." The half-dozen or so Christmas cards he'd taped to the refrigerator he pulled off and put in the bag as well.

Al tilted his head but said nothing. "Ok. We do need to get a move on though."

"Yeah, I know." Sam gave one more look around the room then joined Al where he stood by the front door. "Let's get going."

Al nodded and started down the stairs moving quickly. Once he got to the bottom he went over to the black Trans Am that was parked in the visitor parking space and threw the bag in the back. Getting in to the driver's side, he started the car up. The engine raced a bit as he waited for Sam to get in.

Sam put the shopping bag in the back with his overnight bag and got in the car next to Al. He flipped open the first folder and started rapidly reading the information. "Not gonna have enough time," he muttered glancing quickly at his watch.

"I bet you do fine, Sam," Al commented as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Seeing a McDonald's, he pulled into the drive thru. "You want an Egg McMuffin with bacon or sausage?"

Sam, caught up in reviewing the files, barely heard what Al asked him. "Yeah, that's good," he answered absent-mindedly.

"I guess you want a cup of motor oil with that as well?" Al asked, figuring that question would tell him whether Sam was even hearing him.

Hearing the word 'cup', Sam assumed Al must be asking him about coffee. "Cream and sugar," he answered flipping the page and going on to the next.

Al laughed aloud but put his hand down on the files. When Sam turned to him with a confused expression on his face, Al repeated, "Bacon or sausage, Sam. And instead of the motor oil, I figure you want coffee." He pulled up behind the car that was currently giving its order.

"What?" Sam said irritably. He pushed Al's hand off the file. "I need to read through this. Cut it out."

"And I need to know...bacon or sausage for the Egg McMuffin," Al continued calmly. "Once you tell me that, I'll leave you to Maxwell's equations."

Chagrined, Sam realized they were at a drive-thru and the questions Al had been asking him were what he wanted to eat. "Oh, uh, sorry. Bacon's fine."

Al nodded and let Sam go back to study. When he had the chance, he pulled up and made the order. A few minutes later he said to Sam. "Ok. Head's up. Here's your food," he said holding the bag for Sam to take.

Sam accepted the bag. As he did, he closed the folder in disgust. "It doesn't make a difference. I'm never going to get through this all. I'd have to be a machine." He put the pile of folders on the floor at his feet and opened the bag. "There are two sandwiches in here," he said in confusion.

"Yeah, one of those is mine," Al said turning back to the clerk and retrieving their coffees. "There should be some sugar and cream in the bag too. Is it there?" As Sam checked, he put the closed coffee cups in the cup holders.

Sam looked in the bag, moving the sandwiches. "Yeah, there's some in here." He pulled one of the sandwiches out and handed it to Al. "Are they the same thing?"

Once Al heard that all the expected items were there, he pulled out not taking the sandwich right away. "Yeah. Same." Once he'd gotten on the road, he took the wrapped sandwich.

After Al had taken his sandwich, Sam unwrapped his and took a bit from it. He couldn't quite contain the blissful sigh when he did. Although McDonald's wasn't exactly his ideal breakfast, it was the first hot thing he'd eaten since the night before. Without any gas in the apartment, he hadn't been able to cook. Dinner had consisted of a cheese sandwich.

Al heard the sigh from Sam. "You like McDonald's, Kid? Can't tell you how many times I've eaten these in the last 5 years." Al took a bite from the sandwich he'd expertly unwrapped while driving.

"Not really," Sam disagreed. "I'm just happy to eat something hot." He tried to suppress a shiver but wasn't very successful. "I think I'm just starting to warm up now."

Al blinked. "Yeah. I guess it must have been pretty uncomfortable last night and this morning."

"Um, not really," Sam quickly denied realizing that, despite what he'd told Al earlier, he'd just let on how miserable it had been in his apartment without heat. He really was grateful that Al was letting him crash at his place until the gas was fixed and heat was restored. He hadn't been sure how he was going to last. He would have just crashed in his office at the lab but it was going to be closed over the weekend until after Christmas so that hadn't been an option. Al really was being a lifesaver even if he didn't know it.

"Ok." Al heard in Sam's voice the same type of prideful denial that he knew had been in his own so many times in the past. Sometimes, it was best to not push too hard. He smiled. "You know, this will be the first time I've had a friend over for Christmas in a while."

"Didn't you and your...." Sam cut himself off before completing the question. He was going to ask if Al and his ex-wife had ever entertained for the holidays but thought the better of it. Al was going through a divorce right now. There was no sense in rubbing salt in that wound.

Al looked away. "Um, yeah. Well, Maxine wasn't much for entertaining." The end of the marriage had not gone well. He wasn't 100% sure of all the things that had happened since a good number of the fights had occurred while he'd been two or more sheets to the wind. All he knew was one day Maxine had left and he'd figured she'd run off on him as his mother had done to his father. Al had filed papers and Maxine had simply agreed to everything. He was waiting to hear from his lawyer what the final date for signing the papers was and guessed it would be after the first of the year.

"Sorry," Sam quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to remind you of anything."

"It's ok. It's just going to take awhile to get used to." Al changed the subject. "So, what's the latest on getting your car fixed?"

"After Christmas just like the heat." Sam finished his sandwich, balled the wrapper up, and put it into the bag. He took his cup of coffee out of the cup holder, doctored it with cream and sugar, and sipped at it. "Seems to be the story of my life lately. Everything has to wait until after Christmas."

"Yeah," Al said noncommittally. He finished his sandwich as well but left the coffee until they arrived at the lab. "You sure you have a good mechanic? Your car seems to break down a lot. Maybe he's not fixing it right."

"He's doing the best he can. It's not his fault if the car's old." To himself, Sam added that the car was more on the lines of ancient than old. When he'd arrived in New Mexico for this new job, he hadn't had much ready cash to his name but he'd needed a vehicle to get around. It wasn't like being back in Cambridge and Boston where he could get on the bus or subway to get where he needed. Consequently, he hadn't been able to get a very new vehicle. The one he did get was prone to breaking down. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn't have been better of putting himself into debt to get something a little newer that would have had less likelihood of breaking down so often.

Al had seen Sam's car and knew it had seen better days. After the conversation today, he wondered if the reason Sam was driving the clunker was related to his desire to buy his own home as well. "Well, with as much as you have it in the shop, you can't be saving much." They had arrived at their destination and Al pulled into a parking space.

"You think I haven't figured that out," Sam snapped. He was acutely aware of how much of his savings he'd be paying out this time to repair the car. "What do you want me to do? I can't very well give it up and just walk everywhere." He leaned down and grabbed the pile of file folders from the floor. As ill-prepared for the morning meeting as he was, it may all just be a moot point if he found himself on the unemployment line by the end of the day. He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. "I'm doing the best I can," he told Al looking at him over the car.

Al had never seen the young man like this. Granted, he hadn't known him long but the time they spent with Sam helping him to get off the bottle had given him what he'd felt was an insight into who the kid was. He'd thought at that point the younger man must be some sort of a saint or something. Now, he realized he hadn't given the man credit for being human. He nodded. "Yeah. I know you're doing your best, Kid." This wasn't some perfect person. It seemed the kid could get flustered and if that was the case, he and Sam were on equal footing. Somehow, it made him feel a little better.

Sam drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. The day hadn't gotten off to a good start but that didn't mean it was Al's fault. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." He looked around the parking lot not meeting his friend's eyes. "It's just...I guess it's the time of year or something and everything just seems to be going wrong today."

"Yeah. I'd say you had it in spades," Al commiserated. He nodded to the door. "Maybe the rest of the day will start to go better." As they walked towards the portal, Al finished. "I'll meet you in the lobby at five." With that he aimed himself toward his office turning back once to see Sam moving quickly towards the conference room. He continued down the hall, carrying his coffee.

Sam arrived at the conference room and was surprised to find it empty, except for the admin, Maria Reynolds, who was cleaning the table. When he asked where the others were, he was told that Ron Maxwell had called in sick with the flu and the meeting had been postponed until after Christmas, assuming Ron was better by then. Sam again let out a sigh of relief that he'd dodged the bullet that being unprepared might have been. Maria looked at him strangely and he asked her to convey his hopes that Ron would get well soon. He then went back to the lab where he was working on a new laser system feeling somehow guilty that another's misfortune had been the basis for the only good news he'd had in the past 24 hours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam worked steadily through the morning. With the extra time he gained since the meeting with Maxwell was postponed, he was able to get a little further ironing out the glitches with the laser program.

It was after 1:00 when his stomach rumbled and reminded him he needed to get some lunch. He pulled out his wallet to check to see how much cash he had on him before going down to the cafeteria but was shocked to find that aside from some photos and his driver's license, it was empty. "No," he breathed out in disbelief. "This can not be happening."

Checking between the photo of his parents at their wedding and one of his brother, Tom, he was even more dismayed to discover that the hundred-dollar bill he kept there for emergencies was also gone.

He snapped his wallet closed and tossed it on his desk. The day that had started out not so good had taken a definite turn to horrible. Despite his sudden shortage of cash, he was still hungry.

"Ok, first things first," he said to himself. "I find something I can eat and then start calling to cancel everything." Opening the drawers of his desk, he looked to see if he had any food squirreled away that he could make do with but was only able to find one package of crackers. The plastic had ripped open and the snack had gone stale.

"Great, just great," he muttered. Not knowing what else to do at the moment, he grabbed the phonebook out of his bottom desk drawer to look up the number of his bank so he could cancel his ATM card. He'd no sooner picked up the phone than his stomach rumbled again. He had two choices. He could continue to ignore it or swallow his pride and ask someone to loan him some money. The only problem with option two was that he hadn't really gotten to know anyone well enough that he'd feel comfortable doing that. Well, no one except Al.

Swallowing his pride, he got up from his desk. Al was going to find out anyways so he might as well just tell him what happened now.

When he arrived at Al's office, he started to have second thoughts. It was only the continued rumblings coming from his stomach that spurred him on. Tentatively, he knocked on his friend's office door and pushed it open.

Looking up from his desk, Al saw the man that he'd taken to calling Kid. Sam was, after all, twenty or so years younger than he was. "Hey, Kid. Come on in."

Sam took just a couple of steps into the office and stood fidgeting. "Um…can I uhh…ask a favor?"

Seeing Sam's unease, Al smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Sure."

"Um...can I borrow a few bucks so I can get some lunch," Sam forced out in a rush before he could change his mind and walk out of the office instead. Once he'd asked, he hung his head down. He knew Al would probably ask why he needed to borrow the money and once he told him, he was sure the man would not only refuse him, but also to tell him just how dumb he must really be to have left his wallet where it could be emptied out.

Al reached for his wallet. "No problem, Kid. How much do you need?" As he looked up again he noticed the younger man's body language was showing embarrassment. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam hesitated for a moment unsure how much he wanted to tell Al then took a deep breath and decided just to tell him the truth. After all, Al was his friend. "When I was at the Y this morning, someone cleaned out my wallet and got everything...even the hundred dollars I keep for emergencies." In a softer voice he added, "I've had that since I went to college." He could clearly remember the day his father had given the money to him. His father had come with him to Cambridge to get him settled in his dorm at MIT. Just before he'd left to get on the bus back to Indiana, he'd pressed the money into Sam's hand telling him to keep it and only use it for an emergency. He'd kept that same bill since then and now it was gone.

Al's face contorted as he listened to Sam's explanation. "Ah, geez, Sam, that's terrible. Nozzles like that really burn me." He pulled out a twenty. "Here you go." As he started to put the wallet away he asked, "You gonna report it to the police?"

"I don't need that much," Sam said refusing to take the money. "Five dollars is...too much. I'll just get a cup of soup." In answer to Al's question about the police he added, "what good's it gonna do. Whoever did it is long gone. I don't even know who it might have been."

"True," Al agreed, "But you may need the deduction on your taxes. Thefts are deductible but you have to have a police report." He nodded to the $20. "As for this, go ahead and take it. That way you'll have a little extra in your pocket in case something else comes up." When Sam looked like he was going to refuse, Al finished with, "Hey. I'm not worried. You'll pay me back." He smiled. "Remember, I know where you live."

"No," Sam still stubbornly refused. "I'm not going to take that much money from you. I don't need it."

Al took a breath and released it. "Fine, Sam." He pulled his wallet out and put the twenty back in and replaced it with a ten. Before Sam could say anything, he told him, "Smallest I have. You can give me the change when we leave today."

Sam leaned forward to take the money from Al then dropped heavily into one of the chairs in front of the desk. "How can I be so stupid? I should have known better." Unexpectedly, he started to laugh softly. At Al's quizzical look he explained, "I wrote my pin number down on the envelope my ATM card is in just in case I forgot it." He quickly sobered up. "I have an eidetic memory and I write the number down just in case. How stupid?" he asked again angrily.

"Give yourself a break, Kid. You're not the only one that has to remind themselves of things." Al had to admit to himself, if he hadn't written things down when he'd been drunk sometimes, he would have forgotten a hell of a lot. "You have an eidetic memory? What's that?" he added

"I have a photographic memory," Sam explained. "Do you know what the chances of me forgetting that number are? Whoever it is who cleaned out my wallet has probably also cleaned out my bank account by now," he continued in resignation.

Al blinked. "Photographic memory? Wow. I've never met anyone that really..." He noticed Sam getting more resigned. "Have you called your bank yet?" he asked. "Which one is it?"

"Not yet. I thought I'd get something to eat first. What are 15 more minutes going to matter?" Sam asked fatalistically.

Al shook his head. "You never know, Kid. The person may not have wiped you out yet."

"Yeah, right," Sam snorted. "It's been seven hours, you don't think they haven't figured out they have my card and pin number?"

"Come on, Sam. I once had somebody steal my wallet. It was found 5 years later by someone and only the cash had been taken."

"I still have my wallet." To prove the point, Sam pulled his wallet from his pocket. "Whoever it was took everything out and was really thorough doing it. That hundred-dollar bill was between two pictures. The only thing left in here is my license, pictures, and a few receipts."

Al had to admit, the money had probably already been taken out but he figured Sam should still call in the theft as soon as he could. "It's still worth a try, Kid."

"I guess," Sam reluctantly agreed as his stomach grumbled again. "It's going to have to wait until after I eat something, though. Like I said, I don't really think it'll make much difference."

"You want some company?"

Sam took just a second to mull over the offer. "Yeah, some company would be great."

Al closed down his computer for the time being before getting up and walking with Sam to the cafeteria. Ordering a coffee and buying a chocolate cookie, he waited for Sam to get his own plate. "That all you eating?" he asked, seeing the choices the kid made.

Sam looked over what was on his tray - a bowl of soup, some crackers, an apple, and a carton of milk. "Yeah. What's wrong with this?" he asked as he crumbled the crackers into the soup.

Al shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. But the way your stomach was grumbling, I'd figure that you'd probably want a little more."

"This is fine." Sam put a spoonful of the soup in his mouth. "I guess when I get back to my office I should probably try calling the bank. If I wait 'til I get home...to your place," he quickly corrected himself, "they'll be closed and it'll be too late. I just don't like doing personal stuff when I'm supposed to be working."

"Sam," Al said before taking a bite of his cookie, "Sometimes you don't have a choice. It would be one thing if that were all you did, but this is sort of an emergency. Nobody thinks life stops when you walk in the door."

"I know that but I'm not getting paid to figure out my personal problems."

"It's not like you have much choice. It's the Friday before Christmas. Everything is going to be closed soon. You need to do something or else whoever took your wallet is going to have that much more time to screw things up for you.

"This really sucks," Sam grumped. He balled up the napkin he's wiped his mouth with and threw it across the table.

"I know it does," Al agreed sympathetically. He gestured at the food on Sam's tray. "Eat up so you can make those phone calls. Do you have the phone numbers for your credit cards? The earlier you call those in, the better."

"I think I have them back in my office." Sam finished the soup and emptied the carton of milk. He picked up the apple and put it aside to take back with him to eat later then picked up his tray to empty it off.

"You really should eat more than that," Al suggested as Sam started to walk to the nearby trashcan. "Especially the way your stomach was complaining when you came down to my office."

Sam came back to the table and picked up the apple. "It was enough. I sort of lost my appetite." He waited for Al to clean up from his afternoon snack then started to walk out of the cafeteria. "I think I'm too upset to eat."

Al patted the younger man on the back. "You're too young to worry yourself into an ulcer, Kid. C'mon, I'll go back with you and keep you company while you make those phone calls." He knew that Sam was probably still worried about having to take care of his personal business on company time and added, "Don't worry, I'll run interference for you in case anyone thinks you're goofing off. Besides, there's hardly anyone around and almost everyone who is here is leaving early. How about you make those calls, finish up whatever you were working on this morning then we'll head out a little early like everyone else."

Seeing Sam's reluctance to leave early, Al elbowed him gently in the ribs. Conspiratorially he said, "Don't worry about it, Kid. I know the guy who takes care of personnel here real well. You could say we're almost the same man. I've got a feeling he'll happily approve the time for you. After all, I hear he's a real good guy."

Sam smiled slightly as Al tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, he's a real good guy," he agreed. In a softer voice he added, "He's a real good friend."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"This isn't the way to your place," Sam said as Al left the parking lot.

"I know, Kid," Al agreed. "I thought we'd grab an early dinner before heading back." He'd gone back to Sam's office after they'd left the cafeteria and he'd kept the kid company while he called his bank and then credit card companies to report the theft and cancel the cards. There wasn't much he could do besides lend him some moral support. After each call, Sam had grown more and more despondent.

By 4:30, Sam had finished with his phone calls and Al had convinced him it was acceptable to leave a half hour early since it was a holiday. It was as they were leaving the building that they realized they were the last to leave.

Hoping to cheer Sam up, at least a little, Al decided to take him out to eat.

"In case you've forgotten," Sam pointed out, "I had everything stolen from my wallet this morning. I have no money to go out to eat."

"Yeah, I know. Still, you have to eat something. You've barely touched anything today."

"I told you, I don't like to eat when I'm upset. I have no appetite." Sam turned his face so he could look out the window instead of at his friend. "Besides, I can't afford anything right now. I have no cash on me, and I can't even get anything out of the bank now since they're closed and I have no ATM card."

Al looked over to Sam. He knew pride when he saw it. The kid would be able to counter any argument he made. He decided that feigning indifference would be best. "Ok, Kid, but I'm hungry and since I don't have a lot at the apartment right now, I'm going to get something to eat." He gave the words a few seconds to sink in and before Sam could say anything added, "You can sit in the car if you'd like but I was hoping you might be willing to at least keep me from eating alone."

"I'll wait in the car," Sam responded firmly. He was no fool. He knew exactly what Al was up to. He was trying to play on his sense of loyalty to get him to come in the restaurant then he'd end up paying for his meal. Well, he wasn't going to fall for it.

"Fine. Suit yourself," Al stated. He pulled into a parking space at a place called the Chili Pepper. "See you in about 45 minutes or so." He got out of the car and started into the place. He'd really hoped that the kid would bite but figured that trying to convince him wouldn't get him anywhere based on his reading of the man.

Sam watched as Al walked away from the car and to the restaurant. He was surprised that he hadn't tried harder to get him to come in. In a way, he was almost disappointed and questioned whether he and Al were as good friends as he thought. Well, it wasn't the first time he'd been wrong about someone in his life and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. Still, it did hurt just a little that Al was willing to give up so easily. This day just kept getting better and better.

He slouched down as much as he could in the seat. The car wasn't the roomiest. Hopefully it wouldn't take as long as Al thought for him to get his dinner and they could be on their way. He wondered if maybe he should just ask the older man to take him back to his apartment.

**********

Al entered the restaurant, figuring that if he just went in that Sam would follow. When the hostess came over to seat him, he let her know he'd want his usual table but that he had something he needed to do first. He turned around and went back out to the parking lot. Going to the car, he opened the door and slid in. Knowing his attempts at being coy hadn't worked, he decided to be direct. "Ok, asking nicely doesn't work and trying to guilt you doesn't work. What the hell do I need to do to get you to come in and eat with me?"

Sam's head snapped up when he heard Al's voice. Since they'd known each other, this was the first time that he had spoken so harshly to him. Actually, there had been a few times while he was trying to get him sober that Al hadn't exactly given him a warm and fuzzy but this was the first time that he hadn't been inebriated and was still harsh. "I'm…I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I just don't want you to have to pay for me and I can't afford it."

Al looked at Sam, memories of times when he'd been on the other side of this equation flashing in his mind. "I get that, Kid. You don't know how much I get that. But if there's one thing that I've learned in life, it's that sometimes you've got to allow the other person to be the host."

"I know that, Al, I really do." Sam looked away again staring out the window at the door to the restaurant. "It's just...today has really just sucked, you know? All I want to do is go home, go to bed, pull the covers over my head and hope tomorrow's better." He let out a small laugh that lacked any humor. "I can't even do that because my place feels like an igloo right now." He offered a small smile to his friend hoping to take any sting out of his words. "I just don't think I'm really good company right now."

"Well, even if you're just sitting with me, that's better than sitting alone, you know? I won't even ask you to talk if you don't want to. This place is pretty low-key. I think you'll be just fine." Al decided that continuing the direct approach with softer words couldn't hurt. "I'd really like it if you'd join me, Sam," he said sincerely.

"I don't want to disappoint you." He wasn't sure why but gaining the other man's respect and not disappointing him had become important to Sam over the last couple of weeks. He knew others would probably say he was crazy for wanting the older man's respect considering he was nothing but a drunk but he saw something in Al. It was that something that made him got to bat for him, made him work with the man to get him sober, and made disappointing him something to be avoided.

"Then please come in with me. I'd appreciate the company."

"Ok," Sam said with a small nod. "I'll come in under one condition. After I get this all straightened out, I'm paying you back and I'm taking you out for dinner."

Deal," Al said with a smile. He got out of the car and waited until Sam got out as well. The two of them entered the restaurant.

The hostess that had talked with Al before saw the two come in "Oh, you've got a friend. I guess you were waiting for him."

Al nodded. "Yeah. I'm glad it wasn't too long a wait." The way he said it had layers in the meaning. The hostess obviously didn't get it and Al wasn't surprised since the meaning was aimed towards his friend. "Come on Kid, let's get dinner."

Sam followed Al and the hotess to a table and took his seat.

After seating them, the hostess left. A moment later their waitress walked up to take their drink orders.. "Could I get a scotch," Sam quickly asked. He barely registered the surprised look on Al's face when he made the request.

"You want the same, Al? We still have your brand here," the waitress asked.

Al looked at Sam again and took a breath. He'd only known Sam a few months but had never seen him order anything stronger than a beer. Al figured that since Sam had helped him get off the hooch, the kid was probably always a light drinker but that might not be true. Then again, maybe he was testing him. "Um, no. A Coke will be fine for me."

The waitress nodded. "Ok. Be back in a second to take your order."

After she left, Al said, "You're going to eat something with that scotch, right?"

"I said I'd come in and eat, didn't I?" Sam answered simply.

The waitress came back a few minutes later with a scotch on the rocks and a Coke. "You didn't say how you wanted your scotch, sir. I just did it the way Allie drank his if that's ok."

"It's fine like this," Sam assured her.

"So what can I get you boys to eat?"

Al handed his menu to her. "The usual. Green chili cheeseburger with the chili on the side and fries."

"I'll just get the grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup." Sam also handed the menu to the waitress. Once she'd walked away, he picked up the glass with the scotch and drained nearly the entire thing in one gulp.

Al blinked. "Sam...?" He asked but without any judgment. Who was he to judge anyways? He'd pretty much lived in a bottle for the past several years, allowing it to rip apart his latest marriage and almost sending his career into the toilet.

"What?" Sam asked. He put the glass down on the table with a little thump. When Al didn't say anything, he asked again.

"Um…" Al was a little uncomfortable about the situation but again, he figured that Sam was an adult. He could do what he wanted. Instead he turned his thoughts. "I was wondering if you needed to pick up anything on the way home.

"Nope. Nothing." Sam finished draining the glass and, getting the waitress's attention as she walked by, signaled for another. "Besides, doesn't matter if I did. I can't pay for anything right now."

"It's not like you're going to be cleaned out, Sam. If you need to have some money fronted to you, I know you're good for it. You've got to be one of the most responsible persons when it comes to money I've ever met."

Before Sam could answer, the waitress came by with his second scotch. "Here you are, sir." She looked at Al's glass. "I'll bring you another Coke, Allie."

"Thanks, Darla," Al said with a smile bright enough to make her blush. After she left, he turned back to Sam.

Sam thanked the waitress when she brought his drink over and took a sip from it before answering Al. "It might not seem like I'll be cleaned out to you but for me it's a different story. I budget out the money I have. Now I have to add in what I'm responsible for getting charged or taken out of my account, the repairs for my car and my rent is due in a week. I may as well be cleaned out." He took a longer pull from the drink. "Merry Christmas to me," he said despondently.

Al bit at his lip. The kid certainly had reasons to be as cynical as he sounded. Still, this wasn't the Sam Beckett he'd started to get to know. A more human Sam Beckett, yes, but... "I've seen worse. Even with the situation you're facing, you'll get by. It may take a little longer to get back on your horse, but it could be a lot worse."

This was a role reversal, Sam thought. Usually he was the one giving Al the pep talk. Now it was the other way around. He decided he wasn't in the mood for a pep talk. Right now, what he was in the mood for was a good old-fashioned pity-party. He'd started slower on the second drink but decided to send caution to the wind and threw back what was left in glass. "This ain't no horse race and I'm not getting back on any horse."

Al blinked as he saw Sam finish the drink. "So instead, you're going to try to kill your reality with that?" he asked nodding to the glass. "Thought you were the one that told me alcohol was false comfort."

Sam looked at Al through slit eyes before getting up from the table. "Got to hell. You don't know anything about me." He started to walk away but stumbled. The two drinks were already having an effect on him.

At first Al was shocked and didn't move, wondering if he'd misread Sam. The man had been a lifeline to him, putting his job on the line to make sure that he wasn't tossed out on his ass. This was the same man who had less than thirty minutes before said he didn't want to disappoint Al. Seeing the kid stumble, though, brought him to his feet and over to him. Helping to steady him, he answered "I suppose that's true, Sam. I really don't know anything about you. Maybe we can start again." He noticed that the food was being delivered to the table. "Come on back, Kid. No reason to let the food go to waste." He added softly. "You can even have another scotch if you want one."

At first, Sam resisted, trying to pull away from the gentle hold Al had on him but eventually he relented. Sitting back at his place, he decided to test Al and asked the waitress to bring him another drink.

Darla looked at Al. She'd seen the rate the younger man was drinking. Even when Al was drinking, he didn't tend to drink that fast, just for a long time. Al nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes sir. I'll have that right up," she answered Sam.

Not saying anything, Sam picked up half of the sandwich and started eating it. He dipped it into the soup occasionally. When Darla brought over the next drink, he drank it at a slightly more sedate pace but the two previous, combined with the fact that he'd eaten so little all day, and the fact that he rarely drank hard liquor had already done their work.

Al fixed his cheeseburger the way he liked it before turning to his friend again. He watched Sam for a few moments before speaking. "So tell me."

"Huh?" Sam asked dumbly looking up from his dinner.

"You said I don't know anything about you," Al explained. "So tell me, what do I need to know?"

"Know that hundred dollars in my wallet," Sam began. His words were starting to slur and he made an effort to speak distinctly. "I had it since I went to MIT in 1970. My Dad gived it to me." He got a strange look on his face and slowly shook his head. "He gave it to me, not gived. Gived isn't a word. That's bad grammar."

Al tried to cover up a small smile when Sam corrected his own grammar. Even drunk -and there was no mistaking that the kid was definitely feeling no pain - his intelligence couldn't be denied.

After reaching a level of sobriety where he could actually think logically, Al had asked Dr. LoNigro about the man that he'd hired sight unseen based on the professor's recommendation. He thus knew that Sam's father had died in 1972. "So it was more than money," he said instead of asked. From the way Sam was acting, it was a good bet it wasn't the monetary value but the sentimental value that meant the most to him and had him so upset. He took a bite of his cheeseburger waiting for Sam's reply,

"He said it was for an emergency so I never used it. Never. But now iss gone jus' like him." Sam said the last, speaking with uncoordinated hand movements as much as his words. They certainly made the point that the money was 'gone with the wind.' "Just...poof...and it's gone."

"Ah, Sam." The words were said with deep empathy. "It was just money." Seeing the kid so despondent tugged at his heart. He gave his friend a small, gentle smile. "I'm sure your Dad would have understood."

Sam toyed with his soup with the spoon. "It's still gone just like him," he answered sadly. He let go of the spoon letting it clatter against the bowl and pushed the remains of his dinner away from him. "I don't want anymore."

Al looked over at the half-eaten sandwich and the mostly full bowl of soup. "There isn't anything back at the apartment. I need to do some shopping tomorrow. It'd be better if you ate at least a little more. Otherwise, you're going to have a headache as big as Mount Everest tomorrow."

"Ok." Sam pulled the plate back closer and stirred the soup with the spoon. "I'll eat the soup but don't want the sandwich." He propped his elbow on table and leaned his face in his hand while he kept stirring the soup.

Seeing the look on Sam's face and realizing that he'd likely lose any fight with the inebriated man, Al agreed, "Ok." He then focused on eating his burger. As he watched Sam stir his soup, a memory of Trudy doing much the same thing came to him. He wondered why as he hadn't even thought of her doing that in years.

When Sam had eaten nearly the whole bowl of soup, he again dropped the spoon. "I really don't want anymore." He was starting to feel just a little queasy and putting any more of the soup in his stomach, he decided, would be a bad idea...a really bad idea.

Al looked at Sam's face noticing he was looking a little green around the gills. He nodded to an alcove. "If you need it, the men's room is over there."

A quick shake of his head was Sam's only answer. If he was going to pay for his over indulgence, he wasn't going to do it in a public men's room. He caught the attention of Darla and asked her for a glass of water. She nodded and turned to get it for him.

Al finished his burger right as Darla brought the water and asked if they wanted any dessert. "Do you qualify?" he quipped

"Oh Al!" she said grinning. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones as pretty as you, Darla, and there aren't that many." Then he turned serious. "Really, though, I think we better get going. Just need the check." She pulled a ticket out of her apron and finished filling things out. "Here you go, Al."

Sam missed most of the exchange between the other two. He was busy breathing in slowly and doing his best to keep what he'd eaten in his stomach by sheer force of will alone. He picked up the water glass and took a sip from it.

Al took the check and pulled three twenties out. "Keep the change, Darling."

"Really?" she asked amazed

"Yeah. Think of it as my wish for you to have a Merry Christmas."

She grinned broadly and bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek. Merry Christmas to you Allie and you, um...sir." Looking at the man who'd come in with her best customer she tilted her head. "You ok?"

"I'm...um...I'm..." Sam didn't get a chance to answer the question before abruptly getting up from the table. He started to make his stumbling way to the restrooms Al had indicated but unless someone stopped the floor from moving under him quickly, he didn't think there was any way he'd make it in time.

Al looked at Darla and jumped up as well, rushing to Sam and helping him towards the men's room. They'd just reached the sink when Sam lost his battle.

In an effort to rid itself of the alcohol, Sam's body also did a very good job of ridding it of everything he'd just eaten. When the vomiting stopped, he leaned to the side against the wall. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Getting several paper towels out of the dispenser and wetting them at the other sink, Al brought them over to Sam and handed them to him to clean up. "It happens, Kid. Can't tell you how many times it happened to me."

As Sam cleaned up, Al went over to the sink and cleaned it up using copious amounts of paper towels and water to do the job.

Sam had to turn away from Al cleaning up the sink or the chances were the other one would get christened next. "Not to me," he finally said. He slid down the wall and sat with his head leaning on his drawn up knees. "Just make it all stop moving."

The words from the kid's mouth confirmed one thing to Al. Sam wasn't a closet alcoholic that had been playing a role with him. No, the younger man really wasn't good at holding hard liquor. Al figured that the occasional beer was truly Sam's usual style. "That's not going to happen right away, Sam. The alcohol in your blood has to clear first." He finished throwing away the last towel. The sink wasn't spotless but it wasn't disgusting either. "Come on, let's go." He was thinking through if there was anything at the house and figured he might have enough tomato juice and fixings to make a hangover elixir the next morning. Sam certainly wouldn't be able to do anything about it tonight other than suffer the effects of the alcohol.

"Go? Go where?" Sam questioned. He didn't think there was any way he could get up off the floor and go anywhere - at least not without a repeat of his stomach trying to void everything he'd ever put in it in his life. He also didn't relish having to face everyone in the dining room. If he'd been feeling bad for himself before, now he felt bad...and embarrassed. Everyone had to know what had happened.

"Home, Sam. We need to get you home. Well, to my apartment anyways." Al bent down to where Sam was sitting. "We just got to get out to the car, Kid. Then 20 minutes to home."

"No. I can't go out there. They'll know."

"Doesn't matter, Kid. You can't stay here. Besides, you might not have noticed, but it's almost empty out there. Most people have gone home to start their Christmas festivities."

Sam mulled over what Al had said before agreeing with him. He slowly pushed to his feet, swaying and having to grab onto the edge of the sink for support. "Let's go."

"Ok Kid." Al added, "The bill's paid so we can just head for the car."

"I need my coat," Sam pointed out. It was still hanging on the back of the chair.

"We'll get it on the way out." He opened the door and waited for Sam to exit.

The two men went out. Sam looked a bit sheepish as he walked thru and just about melted into the floor when Darla gave him a sympathetic look as she handed him his coat. Al gave her a smile and let her know he'd see her after Christmas and he hoped it was a happy one for all of them. They made it to the car and Sam slid into the passenger seat.

"You can just drop me off at my place if you want." Sam's voice was low and flat as he tried to keep any emotion from it. After tonight, he couldn't see any reason why Al would want to associate with him. He thought back on all the times he'd told Al crawling into a bottle wasn't the solution. Yet hadn't he done the same thing tonight?

"Why?" Al couldn't understand why Sam all of a sudden wanted to go back to his place. He'd thought they'd settled that Sam would be staying with him until his heat was working but now the kid was back to wanting to go home. Most likely, Sam was feeling too embarrassed and just wanted go somewhere where he could lick his wounds in private. Having done that more than a few times himself, Al knew that was not a solution. "It's cold there. Much nicer at my apartment even if you'll have to take the couch," he said as he started the car.

Sam looked over at Al in some surprise. "You still want me to stay with you? I didn't think..."

"Kid, if I was going to be upset with what happened tonight; I'd be the biggest hypocrite that ever walked the earth. You had a bad day." He paused as he took the time to pull out onto the street and head towards the interstate. "No, that's not right, you had a really sucky, shit-filled day and sometimes that amber liquid can look pretty good under those conditions. It certainly did to me a lot of the time."

Sam decided to take what Al was saying at face value. His thought processes were still muddled from the alcohol and his stomach still felt like it was on a rollercoaster. It was easier than trying to figure out if there were any double meanings. He rested his face against the cool glass of the window. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Well, it's in the past now. Isn't that what you said to me? That just because I'd chosen that path before didn't mean I had to keep choosing it?" Al kept his eyes on the road, not sure what he'd see if he turned to Sam.

"I never did this before." Sam slid down in the seat as far as he could and closed his eyes. If traffic was light, it shouldn't be too much longer before they got to Al's place.

"Never? You never got hammered even when you were in college?"

"Uh uh. Most of the time I was too young. The rest of time, I was too busy." Sam's stomach did a little flip and he bit back a soft groan. "If I'd known this is how it felt, I'd never have done it."

"Being young didn't stop too many. Busy never did. Still, you're lucky." They'd reached the turnoff and Al took it smoothly. He pulled into a Seven Eleven right off the highway. He parked the car and got out. "I'll be right back, Sam."

When he felt the cessation of motion, Sam picked his head up from the window. "Why are we stopping here?"

Al stopped for a moment. "Remember? There isn't anything at the apartment. Eventually you're going to be hungry again although I doubt it will be soon. Just going to pick up a few things."

At the mention of food, Sam swallowed heavily. "I'll stay here if you don't mind."

"Yeah. I figured." Al quickly walked into the store and within a few minutes, returned with a bag that he put in the backseat. "Ok. We'll be home in about five minutes then you need to get some sleep. I hate to say this, but you look like hell, Kid."

"Feel like it too," Sam agreed.

Al was just pulling the car out of the parking space when Sam ordered him to stop. "I think I'm gonna..." he explained when Al asked him what was wrong. Al stopped immediately.

Sam fumbled with the door before getting it open. He half fell, half got out of the car and ended up on his knees beside it. He was sure he was going to get sick again but nothing came up this time. "Why do people do this to themselves," he asked miserably.

Al didn't say anything since anything he might explain would ring hollow. When he saw that Sam wasn't going to toss his cookies again, he told the kid to get back in the car. As the younger man did he commented, "It won't last forever."

Shooting Al a dirty look, Sam didn't say anything. The way he was feeling right now, it felt like it would last forever.

Al finished the drive to the apartment without incident but without conversation either. When they arrived at his place, one of the more upscale townhoouses on the north side of Santa Fe, he pulled into his covered parking space. "We're here, Sam."

Sam lifted his head from where he'd been resting it against the window and took in the building they were parked in front of. Compared to where he was living, it was impressive. "You live here?" he asked once more feeling embarrassed and wondering what Al thought of the apartment he lived in.

"Yeah. After Maxine left, I really didn't want to keep the house. This place is all I can keep up with."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. He pulled off his seatbelt and slowly got out of the car. He had to lean on it for a few moments until he felt balanced enough to let go then turned to get his bag from the car.

Al walked up to the townhousee that was more of a casita. It was a one-story adobe with a small wall enclosing a front patio. He pulled out his key and opened up the door before looking back at Sam to see if he needed any help. "Mi casa es su casa," he quipped.

Slowly Sam made his way from the car to the front door. "Nice place," he commented as he preceded Al through the door. As he walked by, the older man reached out taking the bag from him.

"Thanks. It works for me." Al took the bag and dropped it over by the desk in the corner. "The place is a little small I'm afraid but there's enough room for the two of us."

"It's fine," Sam countered. "At least it's warm." He stood just inside the closed door looking around. The apartment was definitely better than what he had. By comparison, it was a world away.

"Yeah. Compared to what your place was last night, this must feel like a sauna," Al joked. He went over and opened a carved wood cabinet that had been hiding the TV. "You've got the best place in the house for watching TV too."

"I'd rather just lie down, if you don't mind." Sam looked a little sheepish. "I'm still not feeling too great."

After opening up the entertainment space, Al went back to the kitchen to unload the few groceries he'd bought at the 7-Eleven. Talking to Sam over the tiled counter that could serve either as a breakfast nook or bar, he grinned. "Sure. Like I said, make yourself at home. I'm pretty beat myself."

Sam took a few hesitant steps further into the apartment and stopped, looking around. "Um, where can I sleep?"

"Right here, Kid," Al responded coming out of the kitchen and slapping a hand against the couch before moving in the direction of one of the closed doors leading off the room. "I'll get you some sheets and a blanket. I promise you, when you move those pillows off, it's really comfy."

Moving to the couch, Sam started to take the throw pillows off. He looked around wondering where to put them then piled them on the armchair. As he took the last pillow off, he found a lacy red bra stuffed behind it. Gingerly, he picked it up holding it out to Al who was just coming back from the bedroom. "Um, what should I...."

"Oh, that's where that went. Marcia's going to be so happy. She said she'd looked around forever to find a matching set she liked." He went over to trade the bedding he had for the bra.

Sam accepted the bedding held out to him and dropped it on the couch. "I'm...um...glad I found it," he said weakly. He could feel his face getting warm and knew he was probably blushing. To cover, he went over to where Al had dropped his bag and bent over to unzip it. He pulled out sleeping clothes to change into. "Where's the bathroom?" he asked when he stood up.

"Over there," Al said, pointing in a general direction. There were two doors there, right off the living area.

Assuming Al meant the door on the left since he'd come out of the door on the right with the bedding, Sam pulled open that door and slipped into the bathroom. He quickly changed out of his work clothes then pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed his teeth hoping to rid himself of the taste from being sick. He caught one quick look at himself in the mirror over the sink then averted his eyes from looking again. Al was right, he did look like hell. He also couldn't remember the last time it had taken so much coordination to get toothpaste on a toothbrush.

Finished getting ready for bed, he went back out to the living room. While he'd been in the bathroom, Al had finished making a bed up on the couch and had added a pillow. Sam dropped his clothes on top of his bag then went over to the couch. "Um, if you want to watch the TV or something, that's ok. I can sleep with it on."

"Nah. Not necessary. I have a smaller TV in my room. You just get some rest."

"You're sure?" Sam sat on the couch and reached over to fluff the pillow. "It really won't bother me." He spoke with just enough of a hint that he'd welcome some company at least for a little while.

Al noticed that Sam seemed reluctant for him to leave. "Um. Yeah. Sure. I could watch in here for a little while." He went to sit down in one of the armchairs by the couch. The other still held the pillows from Sam's makeshift bed.

As Al turned the TV on, Sam stretched out on the couch pulling the blanket over his body. He scrunched down into the pillow getting comfortable. As far as couches went, this one didn't seem that bad to spend the night - or a couple of nights on although he wouldn't push his luck. Al might not be as kind about this evening in the light of day. "G'night, Al," he said softly as his eyes closed.

"Good night, Kid. Pleasant dreams," Al said quietly.

It didn't take long before Sam started to drift to sleep. Despite what he'd said this morning, it had been really uncomfortable in his apartment last night. Consequently, he'd gotten precious little sleep. Added to that, he'd had an earlier wakeup than was normal and the scotch that he'd drunk was still doing a number on him. The quiet chatter from the TV also helped to lull him.

Waiting until the soft sounds of a gentle snore came rhythmically from the younger man; Al got up and approached the couch looking down at the man sleeping there. After all Sam had done for him, he started to think of younger man as some kind of superman, or angel, or something. Well, if he were an angel, the angel had fallen to earth today and proved just how very human and vulnerable he was.

For the first time tonight, Al had seen the walls he didn't even know that Sam had erected crumble and some of the kid's vulnerabilities had been on display for him.

Since Beth Al hadn't really let anyone past his own defenses. Sure, he'd had four more wives since then and he'd probably been "in love" with them at one point but he honestly couldn't say that he'd loved any of them the way he'd loved Beth. At best, they'd been good friends with benefits at least most of the time. In fact, he still occasionally had conversations with a couple of them. He hadn't had many friends since then. There were acquaintances, buddies, guys he hung out with, but none that he could really call a friend and the few that he'd had good relationships with had mostly fallen by the wayside as he'd turned to the bottle more and more. That seemed to end when Sam Beckett walked into his life. Somehow this innocent, naïve kid had found a way to get through his barriers.

As he watched the peacefully sleeping man, Sam turned over and the blanket slipped partially off of him onto the floor. Al bent down and adjusted the covers then padded to his room. He stopped at the door to look back at the younger man and made a silent vow that from this point forward; he'd do his damnedest to be as good a friend to Sam as Sam had been to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Al was awake and out of bed earlier than normal Saturday morning owing to the fact that he'd gone to bed earlier than usual the night before. He crept quietly out of his room in case Sam was still sleeping. A quick peak over the back of the couch gave the answer in the positive.

Sam was sleeping on his side, curled up under the blanket. Sleeping, he looked younger than he was. That image was further enhanced by the way he was sleeping with his hand tucked under his cheek pillowing it.

Judging by the snores coming out of him, Al didn't think he'd be waking up anytime in the near future. Considering the hangover he was likely to have, that was probably a good thing.

Backtracking to his bedroom, he grabbed clothes for the day and went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. While Sam was still sleeping, he could run out to the grocery store to pick up what he wasn't able to get at the Seven Eleven last night and run a couple of errands.

Before leaving, he put a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a note on the coffee table telling Sam he'd gone out and that he'd back in an hour or two. It was likely that Sam probably would still be sleeping when he got back but, if he wasn't, he wanted the younger man to know where he'd gone.

**Al pulled the door behind him quietly, not wanting to wake his guest. **As he walked out of the door, he noted it would be a beautiful New Mexico winter day. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been up and outside this early on weekend day. He had to admit there were a lot of weekends that were vague memories at best. That had changed since he decided to take the route of being clean and sober. It was ironic that the man who'd helped him achieve that feat was now the one who was sleeping off a night of indiscretion.

Walking outside the walled area, he noticed to his left that his neighbor, Charles McClellan was up and about. He knew that Charlie was usually up early, often working on his patio garden or some other weekend project. Quite a few times, Al had been less than thrilled with this since, if the project included hammering, his head pounded at each strike of the hammer. Today, though, it was nice to be a part of the neighborhood. **The man was on a ladder changing some lightbulbs that had burned out from the string that he had used to outline his townhome.**

"Hey, Charlie," Al called out with a friendly voice, "How are things going?"

"Goin' good, Al," Charlie answered with a wave. "You're up and about early for a Saturday."

"Yeah...well, I have some errands to run." Al nodded to the sky. "If I'd known how beautiful it was on Saturday mornings, I would have been doing it a lot more."

Charlie chuckled at Al's answer. "That's one of the drawbacks of partying hardy. You never appreciate the mornings." He'd finished changing the last bulb. "Well, I won't keep you from your errands."

"Ok," Al finished. He started to walk away and then turned, catching the other man at his door. "Hey, Charlie. If you see a guy at my place you don't know, don't call the cops or anything. I have a houseguest."

Charlie made a face at the mention of a houseguest. "Which one this time, Al? Dave or Ron?"

"Neither. His name's Sam. I work with him." Charlie looked like he wasn't too sure about what Al was saying. "Listen, his heat's on the blink at his place. I offered him a place to stay for a few days since the nozzle of a landlord he has won't even bother to fix it until after Christmas."

At the story, the man's demeanor changed. Hearing that Al was helping someone out of a jam and not on one of his drinking weekends, Charlie's face became friendly concern. "Geez, that's tough. He's lucky he can crash with you. I heard on the news there's a cold snap moving in."

"Yeah." Al paused a moment. "Hey, I'm going to have a little party on Christmas Eve. If you and Marie want to come over..."

The other man's face scrunched up slightly as he made his excuse. Charlie answered quickly. "We're going over Marie's parent's Christmas Eve. If we get home early, maybe we'll drop by."

Al wasn't 100% sure, but he'd figured he'd been brushed off. Knowing the type of parties that Charlie had seen him have, he wasn't totally surprised. He thought for not the first time since he'd decided to change his ways that there were probably quite a few people that would consider the 'old Al' first. "Right," Al answered, wondering if Charlie was thinking this would be like some of his previous parties. Well, it would take some time for his neighbors to forget some of that. "Ok then, see you later." The two men went their separate ways. Al climbed into his car and pulled onto the road. As he drove into town, he thought a little more about what the kid had told him about the money that had been stolen. An idea started to percolate through his mind.

He spent the morning out, stopping by the grocery store, picking up things both because he had a guest to feed as well as the party he'd be throwing. On the way home, he picked up some bagels and cream cheese for Sunday morning before making a last stop at the bank.

Once he was finished with everything, he went back to the apartment. As he got out of the car, he looked at his watch. He'd been gone an hour and a half. Picking up a couple of the bags, he went to the door and fumbled with the lock, trying to balance the bags at the same time. Finally, he was able to get the door open and went in.

Al looked over tp the couch at the younger man, seeing him lying on his side, his eyes closed. Knowing that the kid sometimes burned the midnight oil at StarBright, he figured that between all the things that had happened, he was probably exhausted. He kept things quiet not wanting to wake his young friend. Going into the kitchen, he started putting the groceries away.

Sam heard movement in the apartment. He'd woken up earlier and it had not been a pleasant awakening as he'd startled awake realizing he wasn't in his own bed. He'd lain still since then hoping that if he did, his head wouldn't explode. Although, he was starting to think that maybe that wouldn't be the worst idea. At least then he wouldn't be able to feel the cannon going off in his head.

Groaning, he opened one eye a mere slit trying to figure out what the noise was. The light in the room seemed to slice into his eye like a laser beam and he shut it quickly.

Hearing the sound of life, as feeble as it was, coming from the living room, Al closed the cabinet he'd put some crackers in. "You awake, Kid?"

Sam groaned louder as the voice set off a timpani in his head. "I wanna die," he said miserably.

Al came into the room and noticed nothing he'd laid out had been touched. "You didn't see the water and aspirin, I take it."

"I refuse to open my eyes," Sam stated very slowly. "And stop talking so loud. You don't have to shout."

"I'm not shouting," Al said in a perfectly normal tone of voice. "You're just oversensitive because of the hangover."

Sam cracked his eyes open, squinting up at Al. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? This is your revenge." He was ignoring the fact that drinking had been his idea, not Al's. Al had, in fact, tried to get him to stop. He seemed to recall he'd told his friend to go to hell when he'd tried. Well, Al had said that and much worse to him. Still, he didn't have to enjoy his misery.

Al went over and opened the aspirin bottle, shaking out two. Picking up the water, he sat on the coffee table. "No, this is not my revenge. I know too well what you're feeling today. Come on. Take these two aspirin and drink some water. You're probably dehydrated."

"Two?" Sam questioned putting his hand out for the aspirin. "Just give me the whole bottle." He thought about the bottle of prescription pain relievers he had in his bag that he took when he had migraines and wondered if they'd help a hangover.

"You mostly need the water, Kid. Alcohol dries you out. Two aspirin should be all you need."

Levering himself up so he was half sitting against the arm of the couch, Sam took the aspirin and the glass of water. "Two bullets might work better." He swallowed the aspirin followed by most of the water but stopped when he started to get the feeling of being on a roller coaster. "Can't you do something about the light?"

"The shades are already pulled. This is about as dark as it gets."

Sam closed his eyes again to protect them from the burning of the light. "Why would anyone want to do this to themselves more than once," he wondered out loud.

"Well, it's probably 'cause we tend to forget pain after awhile. Either that or the numbness we get for a while from the pain we **are** feeling seems worth it."

"I didn't mean....I'm sorry." Sam looked down embarrassed that he'd said something so insensitive. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Sam. You were right when you told me that the booze was hurting me worse than facing my demons." He gave him a wry smile. "You probably should have taken your own advice."

"Yeah, there's a thought." Sam winced as the band in his head changed to a more up tempo tune. "Geez, how long is this gonna last?"

"Once the aspirin and the water start working, it won't be quite as bad." He nodded to the kitchen. "I can fix you something. That might help."

Thoughts of the 'hair of the dog that bit you' started going through Sam's mind and he quickly declined. "That's ok. I think I can muddle through without it. It's not much worse than a migraine."

Al looked at Sam a little strangely for a minute and then light dawned. "I meant food, Sam. I don't even have anything hard in the place anymore. Just easier if it's not around." He paused. "Although, I've got a great tomato juice based hangover elixir. No alcohol, I promise. Someone told me the vitamins in the drink are what make it work."

The thought of food and Al's elixur wasn't any more comforting to Sam and his face paled a little at the mention. "Um, I'm not so sure foods a good idea either." He didn't bother to refer to the other.

"Sometimes it is. Why do you think so many restaurants serve breakfast at 2 a.m.?"

"For people who work the swing shift?" "'"

"Cause when you've had a bit too much, biscuits and stuff are good to eat." Al shrugged when Sam gave him a look that indicated he wasn't going to buy that. "Listen, I just know what I've experienced."

Sam slowly got up from the couch doing his best not to move his head any more than necessary. "I'll be right back."

As Sam made his way off the couch, Al went to the door. "I've got a few more things to bring in."

Sam paused on his way to the bathroom. "You need some help?"

"Nah. I can handle it." He went out the door.

When Sam came back from the bathroom, Al was bringing in the last of the bags. "You shop for the month?" he asked jokingly as he sat at one of the stools on the living room side of the breakfast bar.

"No. I got us some stuff and I'm going to have a party on Christmas Eve. Got to have finger food, you know."

"A party?" Sam pulled one of the bags closer to him and peered inside of it. "You never told me about a party."

"You didn't get the invite I sent?"

"Yeah," Sam answered sarcastically. "But I puked out all memory of it last night with the scotch."

Al looked at Sam confused. "You really didn't get it? I just thought when you didn't answer you just weren't the party going type."

"No, I didn't get it. Look, I can just stay out of the way tomorrow night. You won't even know I'm here."

"That what you want to do?" Al asked. He took the bag from Sam and moved it to the kitchen counter.

"Well, if you want me to, yeah." Sam slid another of the bags closer when Al took the one he'd been looking in and started to pull the contents out of it. "You're right. I'm not much of a party goer."

"I'd rather you joined in, Kid. You're fun to be with."

Sam stopped pulling out the groceries and glanced away embarrassed. "No one's ever really said that to me before." He looked over to Al on the other side of the bar. "I'm looking forward to it," he said with a broad grin.

"Good. Now how about some breakfast?"

"If I have to," the younger man said with a sigh of the put upon.

"Trust me. You'll feel better. Speaking of which, that aspirin working yet?"

"A little, I guess. I still think it's way too bright in here and you keep talking too loud."

"Sam, the curtains are still closed. How can you call that too bright?"

Sam glanced over to see that the curtains were closed just as Al said. "I don't know. It's not like I ever got drunk before. I'm not exactly experienced with this."

"And I hope you never are, Kid."

"I hear it gets better with experience," Sam replied in a feeble attempt at dark humor. "Next time might not be so bad."

Al gave a sad grin. "You say that like it's a good thing."

"Well, if I do this again, it might be a good thing. I can't say I really relish feeling this way."

Al rolled his eyes and pulled out a frying pan and cake pan. "Right," he said as he started to fix the breakfast.

Sam continued to empty the bag he'd pulled close, piling the items on the countertop in front of him. Mostly it was canned goods. Once the bag was empty, he watched Al move around the kitchen making breakfast. "That apron looks real pretty on you," he joked with regards to the floral apron his friend had put on while cooking.

Al, who'd come over to the bar to get the cans to put away, leaned over and tapped Sam lightly on the head. "Watch it, Kid or you'll be eating bread and water," he warned. He didn't expect the reaction he got from Sam when the kid exclaimed softly in pain and pulled away from him, his hand coming up to cup the back of his head where he'd been tapped.

"Sam?" Al asked in concern. "What's wrong, Kid?" His young friend's reaction was a little too extreme for a hangover. He came around to the side of the bar where Sam sat and pulled his hand from his head. Gently, he probed the area and felt the bump there. "How'd you get this?" he asked.

"I…um…I dropped a pen yesterday and it rolled under my desk. I hit my head when I reached for it."

Al eyed Sam speculatively. This was about the sixth time that Sam had hurt himself at work. A few times, he could understand. Six was simply too many. "What the hell do you do in that office?" he finally asked. "Or is there something going on I should know about?"

"There's nothing going on," Sam quickly responded with a light laugh. "I guess I'm just a little klutzy sometimes, that's all."

"More like a lot klutzy sometimes." Again, Al eyed his friend in silence. When it didn't appear that Sam was going to give any other explanation for the bump on his head, he went back in the kitchen. "Why don't you go grab a shower while I finish up breakfast?" When Sam nodded and got up, Al called after him, "Try not to be too klutzy in there. I don't want to have to clean up blood."

Sam grabbed what he'd need to shower and dress for the day and made his way into the bathroom. Once the door was shut, he let out a sigh, leaned against it and shook his head slowly.

He stayed leaning against the door for a few seconds before pushing off of it and going to the shower and starting the water running so it could warm up. While it ran, he stripped out of his clothes. He turned around so his back was to the mirror and looked at his reflection over his shoulder. A purple bruise made its way from his shoulder blade diagonally down his back ending at this spine.

He turned away from his reflection and got into the shower under the warm spray. Unfortunately, neither the bump on his head nor the bruise on his back had anything to do with a pen or his desk. They were the product of one Ron Dawson.

He'd met Dawson about a month ago when he needed some lights changed in his office. For reasons he couldn't figure out, the guy seemed to have it in for him. He was a behemoth of a man and made Sam, who stood six feet tall, look small by comparison. The maintenance guy had no problem with throwing his weight around.

On more than one occasion, Sam had had to make up some kind of excuse after a run in with Dawson. Most recently, about a week ago, he'd been walking by him in a corridor when the man, for no reason, had shoved Sam into the wall hard resulting in a bruise on his hip. When Al had asked him why he was limping, he'd lied saying he'd banged into his desk trying to get around it to answer the phone. He hadn't liked lying but he'd liked having to confess that he'd become Dawson's personal punching bag even less.

Dawson was always careful to make sure he never touched Sam if there were people around or if they were near any of the security cameras. Any other place, and he'd take advantage reminding Sam of how much he disliked him.

His most recent run-in with Dawson had been yesterday morning on his way back from the cancelled meeting. It had finally shed some light on why the man disliked him so much. After complaining, loudly, that it was another Friday night that he'd have to pay for his own drinking, he'd grabbed Sam and shoved him backwards into the corner of a nearby vending machine. The hit had Sam seeing stars and when they finally cleared, Dawson had disappeared around a corner.

Sam finished his shower quickly and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist while he shaved and brushed his teeth. He'd just finished that when there was a knock at the door. In a near panic, he grabbed his t-shirt struggling into it while calling out, "Wait, I'm not dressed."

"I'm not coming in," Al replied. Amusement could be heard in his voice at, what he assumed, was Sam's almost prudish modesty. "I was just letting you know breakfast was ready."

"Oh…um…ok. I'll be right out," Sam answered. When he heard footsteps going away from the bathroom, he let out the breath he'd been holding. The last thing he needed was for Al to see the bruise on his back. He'd know that didn't come from a desk and Sam knew he'd press to find out exactly what it was from. That was a discussion he did not want to have. Besides, Al's reaction to the bump on his head earlier told Sam that maybe the older man was getting suspicious. He didn't want to give him anything to encourage that.

He finished dressing, gathered up the clothes he'd taken off and went back to the living room. He dropped the pile of clothes on his bag in the corner of the room.

When Al heard Sam coming out, he got the plates prepared and put them at the breakfast bar. He watched as Sam dropped his clothes down and figured the kid would take care of them after they ate. "Hope you like scrambled eggs and biscuits."

"That's fine." Sam sat on the stool he'd been sitting on earlier and accepted the plate that Al handed to him. He pushed the eggs around the plate a few times before taking a small bite, bracing himself just in case they came right back down. When there didn't seem to be any danger of the eggs making a reappearance, he looked around the Al's home.. "You need to do any decorating for this party?" he asked curiously. He'd noticed that Al's place was conspicuously bare of any of holiday trimmings.

"Not really," Al answered. "Maybe some luminarias outside but that's about it. Why?"

"Well, I just thought if you're having a Christmas party, you might want a tree or something. You know, make it a little more festive."

"Don't you think the place is a little small for a tree?"

"My place is smaller and I had one," Sam pointed out. It hadn't seemed right to him not have some kind of holiday decorations in his apartment so he'd done the best he could. The tree in question was a small one that sat on one of the end tables in his living room but it had still been comforting to see it. Along with the cards he'd taped to the refrigerator, it had given his place a homier feel - or at least he thought so. Although Al's place might have been nicer and decorated better, there was nothing in it to give a hint to what time of year it was and Sam found he was missing that.

"Hmm. I guess I could get a small one." The fact was, Maxine had taken the Christmas decorations and Al just didn't feel much like shopping for new stuff.

"And maybe a wreath on your door," Sam suggested helpfully.

Al sighed. "I guess the place doesn't look like Christmas, huh."

"It was just an idea," Sam quickly said afraid he'd insulted his friend. "It's just that that...well...you know..." He let out a small sigh. "Just forget. It's a stupid idea. You're right. If you're gonna have a lot of people here it probably would end up being too crowded."

Al looked around. "No, you're right. I just hadn't really noticed. My ex-wife took all the stuff we had."

"I have some stuff," Sam offered. "It's in my storage locker at my apartment. It's not much and it's kind of old but if you want to use it, you can." He hadn't taken out the Christmas decorations from his childhood to use this year knowing that they just wouldn't fit in his small apartment. He was hoping that sooner than later he'd have his own home that he could use them in.

"That would be nice, Kid. At least there'd be something that had more meaning than a load of stuff from K-Mart." Al was truly touched that Sam would offer his own things to decorate the place.

Sam smiled shyly when Al accepted his offer. "We can go by my place later and get it and maybe go get a tree afterwards. You might need some lights, too. If there's any in the stuff Mom sent, they're probably tangled and might not work."

"That sounds like a plan and I do want to get some bags, sand, and candles for the luminarias. After all, what's Santa Fe without those?"

That was the second time Al had mentioned luminarias and Sam didn't have a clue what they were. "I don't know. I don't really know what a luminaria is," he confessed.

Al looked at him strangely for a moment then finally it dawned on him. "This is your first Christmas here in New Mexico, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I've only been out here since August. Whatever those are, they don't have them back home in Indiana or in Massachusetts."

"Well, here in New Mexico, they're used outdoors to line the walls or along walkways and such. It's a traditional way to decorate. Looks beautiful at night when they're all lit up."

"Oh, sounds like it. I guess I'll get to see what they look like this year."

"Yeah. Once you do, I'll be it'll be a holiday tradition for you too," Al said as he took the last bite of his eggs.

"Maybe." Some of Sam's good mood seemed to fizzle away. "Sometimes traditions don't last."

Al watched as the kid seemed to deflate. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"Nothing." Sam waved off Al's concern and finished his breakfast. He got up and took his dish to the sink and put it on the counter. "We should probably get going. The sooner we get to a store to buy whatever you're going to need, the better or they're going to start to get really crowded."

"In a minute, Kid." Al too went over to the sink but opened the dishwasher and put all the used dishes in it, including the pans he'd used. As he did, he asked, "You need a bag for your dirty clothes?"

"Huh? What dirty clothes?"

Al nodded over to what Sam had put on his bag. "You planning on wearing those again before you wash them?"

Sam looked over to the clothes he'd taken off when he showered. "I only wore them last night to sleep. I figured I could wear them again tonight. Why? You trying to tell me they're not clean enough or something?" he asked with a grin.

"No. But if you're going to wear them again, you might want to use the hooks inside the closet over there. I just have a thing about leaving stuff out in the open."

"Oh, sorry." Sam went over to the clothes and started to sort through them. He didn't really see any need to hang up a pair of sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt and started to fold them to stuff back in his bag. When he came to the boxers and socks that he'd taken off at the bottom of the pile, he looked back to Al chagrined. "I guess I do need a bag to put these in. I don't think I want to wear them again before they go through the laundry." The shirt and pants he'd had on the day before he also folded to put back in the bag.

Al nodded and pulled out a tin can he had under the sink. Opening it, he pulled out what looked like a little cylinder. A few tugs here and there and the cylinder turned out to be a plastic grocery bag. "Here you go, Sam."

"Thanks." While Al had pulled the bag out from the tin, Sam had watched in both wonder and amusement that his friend was so anal about a plastic bag. He usually just shoved all the empty bags into one bag and then tossed the whole thing into the cabinet under the sink. He'd never even given consideration to being so neat with them.

"No problem." While Sam took care of putting his laundry away, Al straightened up the other small things that needed to be put away. When he noticed Sam was finished he grabbed his keys and his jacket off the back of a chair. "Ok. Let's go."

The two men went out to the car. As Al pulled out, Sam asked, "So where we going first?"

"I figured we'd go and get those Christmas decorations."

"Ok," Sam said. "You do know they're sort of old."

"That's what you said earlier. Anything is better than what I've got." Al shook his head. "There was really only one thing I wish Maxine had left."

"Only one?"

"Yeah. Maxine was the type that liked everything to match. You know, only white and blue ornaments and stuff. Always seemed too sterile for Christmas."

"So what was the thing you wanted?"

"It was this Santa Claus that was like a robot. Ran on batteries. You'd turn him on and he'd laugh. Like Santa. Ho Ho Ho and all that."

"A robotic Santa," Sam asked to make sure he heard right. "Ok. To each his own, I guess."

"Well, he was sort of like a mannequin. A mannequin robot. Red velvet clothes, white beard, black boots, the works."

"I don't have anything like that but maybe you can find one in a store."

Al shrugged. "Maybe. I doubt it. The only reason Maxine had it was it had been in her family for a while - since she was a kid. I don't think she really liked it much, but it had sentimental value."

"I'm sorry you couldn't keep it," Sam said not sure just what he should say. The topic of Al's divorce was a touchy one and he generally tried to avoid it.

"It's not that big a deal, I guess," Al said as he pulled off the main road to the one that lead to Sam's apartment.

From the sounds of it, it seemed like it was a big deal or Al would have brought it up. Sam didn't think it wise to mention that. "I had a reindeer that the nose lit up once," he offered. "Maybe Mom put him in one of the boxes. I know it's not the same thing but, maybe he'd fill in for Santa."

"Sounds fun," Al agreed. He pulled into the parking space outside of Sam's unit. "You want to check on your place? See if they've fixed anything?"

"Trying to get rid of me," Sam asked with a light laugh as he got out of the car.

"No. It just pisses me off that they think they can just let you stay in those conditions. What if you didn't have someone you could stay with?"

"I would have had to make due," was Sam's reasonable response. "But thanks to you, I do have some place to go and maybe...maybe it was a good thing," he said in rush.

"Yeah. Gives us a chance to get to know each other better outside of work." Al got out of the car and looked around. "Your landlord's not much for keeping anything up, is he?" He nodded to a banister leading to the second floor that had obviously been broken. It was wrapped in duct tape.

Sam looked to the banister. He'd been the one to wrap it in duct tape when it had gone a week without being repaired. "I guess he's busy or something." He didn't want to admit he was living in what could be called a slum. "At least the rent's not too high and he fixes things eventually."

"Yeah. I know the type," Al said with some cynicism. He remembered only too well some of the apartments that he'd lived in as a child. At the time, he hadn't thought them too bad but when he'd decided to drive through the old neighborhood later in life, he was amazed how run down it seemed.

"It's not a type, it's just a place to live, ok." Sam's embarrassment in what he knew was less than satisfactory living conditions came out in anger. He stopped, turning to face his friend. "Not all of us can afford some place fancy like you. If you don't like coming here or it embarrasses you or something, then don't come. Just stop criticizing it, ok."

Al was taken by surprise at Sam's reaction. "Huh? It's not that, Sam. I didn't always live in places like the one I have now. I'm just saying, I've been there."

"And I didn't always live in places like this," Sam countered. "We had a farm when I growing up and house but..." He cut himself off and shook his head slightly. "Just forget it." He took a deep breath and turned toward the stairs. "I need to get the storage key from my apartment. You don't have to come up if you don't want to."

"You lived on a farm?" Al asked surprised. "What? With pigs and chickens and crops and stuff?" He followed Sam up the stairs.

"It was a dairy farm - lots of cows." Stopping outside the door to his apartment, Sam pulled out the key and unlocked it. When he walked in, he flipped on the light switch. He was surprised that his electricity was still working since it was about the only thing that hadn't gone yet. He went to the kitchen and rummaged in one of the drawers looking for the storage keys. "Is this party gonna be dress up?" He pulled the keys out and shut the drawer. "I can grab something while I'm here if it is."

"Not really dress up but not sweats either. Nicer casual, I guess."

"I guess I should see what I have then," Sam said before going into his bedroom.

As Sam was getting things together, Al went over to the bookshelf. There were pictures of what he assumed were family on the shelves. One particular one caught his eye. "Who's the guy from Annapolis?"

Sam came over to where Al was standing and picked up the picture. He rubbed his thumb lightly over it. "That's my brother, Tom and me when he graduated," he said softly then returned the photo to its place. "That was the first time I was ever outside of Indiana."

"You have a brother that went to the Naval Academy? I'd like to meet him. I graduated from there myself," Al said proudly.

"Had," Sam correctly sadly. "He was killed a year later in Vietnam."

Al's face fell, "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know." Dr. LoNigro hadn't told him about knew the platitude sounded lame but he didn't know what else to say.

"It's not your fault." Sam leaned against the bookshelf looking at the picture. "You know, if it weren't for Tom, I probably would have never left Indiana. The first time was his graduation and the second time was for his funeral. I left for MIT a couple of months later."

"He's buried in a national cemetery?" Al surmised, knowing that usually family was buried closer to home.

"Yeah, he's buried at Arlington. Mom wanted to keep him close to home but he'd given Dad a letter before he shipped out. Told Dad to open it only if something happened. After the Naval officers who'd brought us the news left, Dad opened it. Tom said that's where he wanted to be buried if anything happened. That and he wanted Mom and Dad to use the insurance money so I could go to school." He looked down at the floor once again acknowledging how much he owed his brother and that he'd never be able to repay the debt. "I wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for Tom."

Al could almost feel the wave of feeling coming off the kid. He put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You were lucky to have a brother like Tom, Sam."

"Yeah, only thing," he said with a sad smile, "Is that I didn't realize it until after he was gone. I always thought he was just trying to boss me around because he was older than I was and he could but he really did only want what was best for me. I just never knew in time to thank him."

"I'm sure he knew, Sam. Why else would he have helped you through school?"

"I never told him, though. It was just too late. It's always too late." Sam let out a small sigh and pushed away from the bookshelf visibly shaking off his morose mood. He held up the pile of clothes he was holding. "I hope this is good enough. I really don't have anything fancy."

"Don't I know it," Al said quietly to Sam's statement, thinking himself of the fact that things did seem to happen and then you didn't have time. He looked at the clothes the younger man was holding up. "Yeah. Those will be fine, Kid."

Sam went to the kitchen and pulled out a plastic bag from under the sink and stuffed the clothes into it. "Ok, let's go get those boxes so we can get to the store, then."

"Ok." Al said, glancing at the picture once more. His eye caught another framed photo. "Is this your mother and father?"

"Yeah," Sam answered walking back over to the bookshelf. It looked like Al was curious about the pictures there. It would probably be easier to just tell him who they were before he went through them all. "That's Mom and Dad and the other one is my sister Katie and her kids, Tommy and Joanna."

"Nice family," Al said smiling.

"Thanks," Sam said taking a long look at the photos of his family. As he had with the picture of his brother, he lightly rubbed his finger over the one of his father.

Al didn't say anything but Sam's entire demeanor was one of keenly missing those he'd lost in his life. Al understood. He smiled lightly. Finally, he asked, "So where is this box of ancient yuletide treasures?"

"They're in the basement." Sam led the way to the door, holding it open until Al had gone out then following him out and closing and locking it. "There are two of them. I'm not really sure what's in them. I haven't opened them since Mom sent them to me."

"It'll be like opening a present then."

"I guess so." Sam led the way down the stairs and to the basement storage area. Pulling out the key he'd taken from the drawer, he opened the small storage closet that had been assigned to him. There wasn't much inside it besides a few of boxes. "It's these two here." He pointed to the two boxes that were at the top of the small pile.

He gave them a critical eye. "I think they'll both fit in the trunk. You want to take one, and I'll take the other."

"Nah, why don't you take them both? I've got this to carry," Sam said holding up the plastic bag with the clothes in it. He kept his expression schooled to seriousness but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Al's eyes opened wider for just a moment before he realized that Sam was joshing him. "Good one, Kid. You almost got me on that one."

Sam started to laugh when Al finally caught on to his joke. It started off as a small chuckle but soon grew into a full-bellied laugh. After all the stress of the day before, it felt good to just laugh and enjoy. "You should have seen your face," he gasped out between chuckles.

Al frowned at first but the kid's laugh was infectious. Before he knew it, he was beginning to laugh as well. "Yeah. I wasn't sure if you were being serious or not."

Eventually Sam's laughter faded away although there was still a broad smile on his face. "I wouldn't do that to you, Al." He wiped the laughter-induced tears from his cheeks. "But if you want to...."

"No." Al thought about the situation. "We could see if there's room in one of the boxes for the bag...and then we'd both just be carrying a box."

"I think I can manage just putting the bag on top." Putting his words into action, Sam placed the bag of clothes on top of the first box and lifted it. When he did, it pulled on the bruises on his back and he had to work to keep the pain from reflecting in his face. "See," he said once the pain was controlled. "Easy enough to do it this way."

Al wasn't sure but it had seemed that Sam's shoulder's had tensed significantly was he'd moved to grab the load he'd be carrying. He shook his head, deciding he must be wrong since the kid seemed to be doing fine. "Ok. I'll get the other one." He picked up the remaining box and started walking towards the car.

Once both boxes were in the trunk, Sam tried to stretch out his back as best he could without Al noticing then got back in the passenger seat. "Where were you planning on heading next?"

"We need to go a Home Depot or something."

"Home Depot? I don't think you have time to build a new addition to your place before tomorrow," Sam pointed out. He wiggled in the seat until he was comfortable then snapped his seatbelt in place.

"The luminarias, remember? I need to get a bag of sand." Al said as he started the car.

"I guess I forgot about that. How much sand do you need?"

"A 25 pound bag should do it. My wall in front and the walkway wouldn't be able to handle too many.

They continued with small talk until they arrived at Home Depot. As they got out of the car, Sam noticed there were trees for sale. "You could get a tree while we're here," he suggested.

Al looked at the lot with various cut trees. "Yeah, I guess I could get one here. I'll need to get a stand too."

"And lights," Sam reminded. "You'll need lights for it too."

"Yeah. Lights." Al thought for a minute. "I guess I'll need something on top too, huh."

"There might be something in one of the boxes," Sam suggested. "But if you want something new, you should get something."

"I can always bring it back if there's something there. Don't want to have to go back and forth." He walked over to the lot and started looking around. "What kind of tree do you like, Kid?"

Sam looked over the trees critically, slowly moving around the lot. "How about this one?" he asked. The tree he pointed to wasn't necessarily the best in the lot but there was something about it that drew him to it. It was just a little odder than the rest, just a little bit more imperfect but Sam found those qualities endearing.

Al looked at it carefully. "It's not very full on this side," he commented.

"I know," Sam agreed. "That just gives it character. Besides, won't that mean it'll fit in your place better?"

"You've got a point," the older man said, nodding. "Ok. If this is the tree you want, I'll get it."

"It is," Sam assured. He was happy that Al had agreed so readily with him to get this tree. If they hadn't taken it, it was likely no one ever would. "It'll look perfect once it's decorated."

"You sound like Charlie Brown," Al commented as he waved the lot manager over.

"Well, it will," Sam reiterated with a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. This wasn't the first time he'd been likened to Charlie Brown when it came to Christmas trees.

Al laughed. "Geez, Sam, it was just a comment. I'm sure the tree will look great."

"I know," Sam said chagrined that he'd over reacted slightly. "I guess it is kind of silly to worry about a tree being alone for Christmas," he continued with a self-deprecating laugh.

"It just shows you have a good soul, Sam."

"I don't think anyone's ever said that when I've been worried about an inanimate object." Sam waited while Al paid for the tree and told the lot owner that they'd pick it up to take to the car after they were finished in the store. Once that was taken care of, the two men walked to the store. When they got to the door, there was a Salvation Army bell ringer standing there and Sam reached into his coat pocket forgetting that he had no cash on him. All he found was a quarter and he tossed that into the bucket wishing it were more.

Al watched as Sam gave the little he had in his pocket knowing that things might be a little tight due to the theft of his money. He told the bell ringer, "Catch you on the way out," and then walked into the store with Sam. "That was nice of you, Kid."

Sam shrugged off the compliment. "I wish I had more. They do a lot of good for people."

Al nodded. "Yeah." He remembered a Thanksgiving back before his father had left for the Middle East after his mother had left. The Salvation Army had offered a holiday meal and his father had taken him and Trudy there for dinner. He remembered how all the people serving them had shown a genuine interest in the family and a couple of the ladies had even spent time with Trudy. "They're good people."

"That they are," Sam agreed remembering his own experiences with the charitable organization when he was a child. Shaking off the memories, he gestured around the store. "So where do you need to go in here."

Al shrugged and found a passing sales person. "Excuse me, ma'am. Where do you keep your bags of sand?"

Finding they needed to go to aisle 17B, Al took a cart and went to retrieve the sand. Afterwards, they checked out the holiday merchandise, most of which had been picked over. Everything left was on sale due to the late date.

"You think we'd have better luck if we went to Kmart or something?" Sam suggested looking at the sorry display.

"I don't know, Sam," Al said looking through what was left. He picked up a box, looking like a kid in candy store. "Hey, look! They have those bubble lights. I remember those from when I was a kid."

Sam smiled at Al's expression when he found the box of lights. "Those are neat, Al." He took the box and looked at it reading how many lights were in the box. "I don't think this one box is going to be enough, though." He pushed aside some other boxes. "I don't see any more."

Al's face fell. "Couldn't we just mix them in? I mean we could have other lights too."

"Yeah, we can mix them in," Sam quickly replied seeing Al's face. "I just meant I don't think there's enough here, that's all." Remembering that Al was bankrolling this little excursion, he added, "You should get what you want. It's gonna be in your place and you're paying for it."

"Yeah, but you'll be there too. Hell, I wouldn't even be having a tree if it wasn't for you." Al continued to pick through the pile. "They have some blown glass Santa's too." He looked a little closer. "Oh. One of them is broken." He looked at Sam. "One out of eight isn't bad, especially at $2 for the box."

"I guess, since they're on clearance." Sam poked through the items to see if he could find something interesting but nothing appealed to him. "They don't have any tinsel," he pointed out disappointed.

"Well, maybe that's for the best." When he saw Sam's face Al clarified, "That stuff's always so hard to clean up afterwards."

"I know but, I just...I like the way it reflects the light." Sam got a far away look in his eyes. "Mom would say the same thing too but Dad always had a box stashed away. When Mom left the room, he'd pull it out and let us help him put it on." He noticed a box that had fallen to the floor and been kicked under the shelf and bent over to pick it up. "Hey, look at this. It's a train that goes around the tree." He handed the box to Al and continued, "I used to have a set of Lionel trains when I was a kid."

**Chapter 4**

Al smiled. "Yeah. I always wanted one of those. Let's get it" He found a few more items to put into the basket. "Tell you what. We'll look at what you have in your boxes and put it with what we have here. Then we'll see what else we need and go to K-Mart. That sound like a plan?"

"Ok, that sounds good," Sam agreed. They started toward the front of the store but Sam stopped short. "Don't you need some bags and candles for the luminaria things?"

"Yeah, but I don't think they have those here."

"So where are you going to get them?"

"Well, now that we're going to K-Mart, I'll get them there." They quickly went through the line. Al took the change the cashier gave him and handed to Sam. "Think you can put that in the bucket for me while I take these to the car? I'll meet you back by the trees."

"Yeah," Sam said taking the money from Al. He knew what his friend was doing but didn't comment on it. Al had to a walk by the bucket to get to the car just like he did but he was giving him a chance to put in more than just the quarter he had. When he was growing up, his parents would give him and his brother and sister the money to put in the bucket so that they would feel like they were doing something.

Sam was waiting by the entrance to the tree lot when Al got back. "Um, I just realized, you don't have a very big car. Where's the tree going to go?"

Al looked at the tree and then at the car. "I suppose we can tie it to the top."

They checked with the tree lot attendant to see if they had rope. Since they didn't, Al let out a breath. "Be right back." He went back into the store and a few minutes later was coming out again with a bag. He stopped for just a moment by the bell ringer and placed a few dollars in the bucket and he headed back to the tree lot.

The two men carried the tree back to the car together and lifted it up to the roof. Sam did his best to hide a grimace several times and when Al wasn't looking, stretched out his back as best as he could. "I guess we're ready to head back now," he said once the tree was tied down.

"Yeah, sure. Let's get back and get unloaded." Al had noticed that Sam seemed to be having difficulty with his back. He was starting to get suspicious since the kid seemed to keep himself in pretty good shape. He decided to watch a bit longer to be sure before saying anything.


	5. Chapter 5

_Authors' note - due to a slight oversight, the wrong versions of Chapters 2-4 were originally uploaded. Although not the changes are not substantial, it is recommended that the chapters be re-read before continuing on with Chapter 5. The chapters were corrected with the correct versions on December 17, 2008._

**Chapter 5**

Once they arrived back at Al's place, they unloaded the car. Again, Sam seemed to be having difficulty moving at times but Al still didn't want to say anything. They did a quick inventory of the items in the boxes. There were a number of Christmas specific knickknacks, homemade ornaments and a few antique ones. The light-up reindeer that Sam had mentioned was in the bottom of one box along with a tree stand and hand sewn tree skirt. Since the tree-stand looked a little old and beaten up, they decided to use the one they'd bought in Home Depot.

Wrapped carefully in tissue paper was a cardboard star covered in tinfoil. Holes had been punched through it and lights put through them. Sam explained it had been the tree-topper when he was growing up and that his brother Tom had made it in Cub Scouts.

When they were finished going through the boxes, Al wrote down a few things they still needed. "Ok, next stop K-Mart."

"Can I get some more aspirin before we leave? My head's still bothering me a little."

Al nodded, telling Sam where he kept his aspirin bottle. After Sam took them, they left for the discount store. Arriving, Al quickly picked up the bags and candles that were on a display for the luminarias. After putting them in the cart he turned to Sam. "So, let's check what they have in the Christmas stuff here."

Sam followed behind Al to the seasonal department. Although it had been pretty much picked over here as well, there was more to choose from than there had been at Home Depot. "You think we should get some of these to fill in?" he asked holding up a box of glass balls.

"Those look nice," Al agreed. He walked down the aisle a little and saw a few boxes of tinsel. With a slight grimace, he picked them up and then turned to Sam, changing his visage to a smile. "Hey, Kid. Look what I found. I guess you'll get your wish."

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Sam's heart wasn't in it but Al had made it clear what he thought of stuff. "I know you don't want it to make a mess."

"No. I think I can let that go. You know it is that season, right?"

"Yeah." A soft smile touched Sam's face and he took the boxes of tinsel from Al and put them in the cart. "I promise I'll clean up any that falls on the floor. There won't be a mess."

Al grinned and then turned to look around. Spying a novelty wreath he decided to point it out to his friend. "You said I should have a wreath on the door. What do you think of this one?" He held up one with rather scantily clad female angels sitting on the ring that he'd found in the pile of picked over wreaths.

Sam tried but he wasn't able to school his face to hide his emotions and his nose wrinkled in distaste belying his words. "It's great if it's what you really want."

"I take it you don't much go for these buxom beauties?" Al asked as Sam made his dislike obvious. He figured he'd get to the bottom of why. Well, other than for the obvious reason that the wreath was rather gaudy.

"No, that's not it," Sam quickly explained. "I just don't think that's...appropriate for Christmas, that's all. I mean, isn't it a little risqué?"

"And your point is? I'm a bachelor again," Al said, continuing down the path to see how much Sam would bite.

"I just didn't..." Sam trailed off and took a deep breath. "It's great, Al."

"You really think so?" Al asked once more, not willing to let this go when the kid seemed so animated about it.

Sam was determined to keep his feelings on the matter to himself. He'd already said too much and he was a guest in Al's home. "Al, get it or don't get it. It's up to you, not me."

Al decided to get it for giggles and grins. "Ok then, on the door they'll go."

Sam tried not to think what his mother would think of the wreath and weakly smiled at Al. "That's great. So, what else do you want to get."

Looking around and putting a few more items in the basket, Al decided they had more than enough. "I think that about does it."

The two men made their way to the front of the store to pay. When they reached it, Sam noticed a tree just in front of the register with small tags on it and went to see what it was. Each of the tags listed the gifts that an underprivileged child wanted for Christmas. He looked over a few of the tags then pulled one off. He didn't have any cash on him or credit cards but he did have his checkbook. He could spare a little. The tag was for an eight-year-old boy who wanted trains and books.

Sam remembered how he'd memorize the train schedules when he was a kid and the train set that he'd had. There'd also always been plenty of books. He showed the tag to Al. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go get a few things."

Al read the tag. "That's a nice idea, Sam." He watched as his friend walked back to the sales area of the store and away from the registers. "You mind if I leave my things up here for a minute?" He asked the girl at the register. "I have something else to get."

Once the salesgirl agreed, he pushed the carriage with the bags out of the way and went to the tree with the tags. Picking out one for a little girl who wanted a heart necklace, he went back to the jewelry counter and picked up a nice one and a watch to boot before running by the Christmas area to pick up another wreath. He may have given Sam a hard time, but he had to admit, the angel wreath was over the top even for him. Making it back to the cashier before Sam, he had her ring up the other wreath and put it in his bag before taking care of the little girl's jewelry.

A clerk was manning the gift tree so that items could be kept separate. Sam walked up with his newly purchased items just as Al did. "Looks like you're going to make someone very happy, Sam," Al commented, looking at the bulging bag in his hand.

"Well, Christmas is for kids." Sam handed the clerk the tag and bag containing the gifts he'd bought. In addition to a train set and some books, he'd added a hat, gloves, scarf, and some pajamas. He'd had to guess at the size since there'd been nothing on the tag about clothes. A woman in the boys section who had an 8 year old of her own had helped him pick out a likely size.

"Yeah. It is," Al replied.

Making their way to the car, Al asked Sam, "You like baked chicken?"

"Yeah, I like baked chicken," Sam answered as he got in the car. "Why?"

"That's what I'm planning to make for dinner tonight. Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans."

"You can cook?" The younger man's surprise was evident in his face. Cooking wasn't a skill Sam would have attributed to his friend. He could only get by making the basics and it surprised him that Al could do more than that.

With pride in his voice, Al answered, "Yeah. I can cook. Pretty good too."

"Well, that's all well and good you can cook but...you do realize we haven't even eaten lunch yet, don't you?"

"Yeah. But the chicken's gonna take a while so I wanted to be sure you'd like it. I was planning to just make sandwiches for lunch. I picked up some lunch meats, cheeses, and bread. Some chips too."

"That sounds good. So, back to your place then?" Sam pulled open the door after Al unlocked it and got in. "I'll get the tree in the stand while you start dinner and make us lunch."

"Sure," Al answered as he slid in behind the wheel. He decided to go back to the novelty angel wreath. There seemed to be something there. "So, when we get back, I guess I'll hang the wreath on the door. It was lucky I found it" He knew that Sam didn't know about the 2nd wreath. "I'm sure 'it'll be a conversation point for the party."

"Maybe I can just hide out in your bedroom until this party is over," Sam suggested. If it was going to be the type of party where the guests made bawdy jokes about the scantily clad angels, he seriously doubted it was going to be something he'd be comfortable with. "Or maybe it'll be warm enough and I can just go back home tomorrow."

"Oh come on, Sam. It's going to be a nice party. There'll be some of the folks from the labs there."

"I'm just not sure I'll fit in," Sam confessed.

"You'll be fine, Kid," Al said with finality. "Besides, I'm the host and I want you there, ok?"

"Ok," Sam agreed uneasily. He'd never been much of a party-goer. Starting college early, he hadn't been on many party lists and had mostly kept to himself. That had carried through most of his school career.

Al pointed the car in the direction of his apartment and they were soon there. They got out and grabbed the bags bringing them into the apartment. "So how do you make these luminarias?" Sam went over to where the tree was lying on the floor and started to pull it upright to put it into the tree stand. He got it halfway up then let out a small groan and put it back down.

"Well you put sand in the..." Al started before he saw Sam grimace in pain. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"Huh? Nothing," Sam answered quickly. "I just...uh...got a splinter."

Al's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Bullshit!" Al said. "You've been holding yourself like you're hurt all day."

"What do you mean? Of course I've been hurting. I had too much to drink last night, remember?" Sam said with a nervous laugh.

Al shook his head. "Been down that road way too many times, Sam. That's not what's bothering you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sam bent again to lift the tree into place.

As Sam started to pull the tree up, Al walked over and touched his back lightly.

"Ah! What!" Sam exclaimed as he dropped the tree and moved from Al.

"About what I thought. Take your shirt off, Sam." Al said, his suspicions apparently bearing fruit.

"What? Why do you want me to take my shirt off?" Sam backed away another step from his friend.

"Cause I want to see your back. Shirt, Sam." Al said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Sam shook his head. "No. I'm not taking it off just because you said so."

Al considered his next move. The kid was definitely being stubborn. However, based on the fact that he seemed to be getting hurt a lot – no matter how minor the injuries, Al felt he needed to push harder. "Listen, Kid, Either you take off the shirt or I'm going to do it for you. Which will it be?"

Sam eyed Al for just a moment seeing the seriousness behind the threat. Slowly he reached for the hem of the sweatshirt and pulled it off over his head. He balled it up and tossed it in the direction of the couch.

"T-shirt too, Sam," Al encouraged.

There was a look of defiance in Sam's eyes for a brief moment before he pulled off his undershirt as well and tossed it to join his sweatshirt on the couch.

"Now turn around," Al said. Sam hesitated but did as he asked, his head hanging down. Al let out a long, low whistle. He saw a bruise, new from the color of it, that went diagonally across the younger man's back but that didn't disturb him half as bad as the underlying yellow green one that looked to be just as bad. "What the hell happened, Sam? And don't tell me you had some sort of accident in your office or apartment."

"It was an accident," Sam insisted despite being told not to. "Just let it go, Al."

"This..." Al said, his hand tracing the air along the trajectory of the bruise, "...is no accident. Someone did this to you." His eyes grew suspicious again. "Just like they did your hip and your head. Tell me I'm wrong, Sam. I want to see if you'll lie about it."

"I said let it go," Sam growled. "I've got it under control." He pulled away from Al and grabbed the t-shirt and sweatshirt off the couch and pulled them back on with jerky motions.

"Is someone from your apartment building giving you a hard time?" Al asked, thinking it was a rougher neighborhood than he'd first assumed.

Sam ignored Al the best he could. Pushing past him, he took the tree stand out of the box and started to put it together.

"That's it, isn't it? Boy if this doesn't take the cake. You're getting beat up and then they won't fix your heat and..." Al went on.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Just please, forget about it."

"I don't know, huh. I don't know? I grew up in a rough place, Kid. I know."

"No, you don't." Sam dropped the pieces of the tree stand. Getting up abruptly he grabbed his coat where he'd left it on the armchair and put it on. "I'm going home. I don't need to be interrogated like I'm some criminal."

"Hold on, Sam," Al said. He reached out and grabbed the younger man by the arm to stop him. "What are you getting so upset about? Someone's obviously giving you a hard time. I just want to help you."

When Sam felt Al grab onto his arm, he tensed up and pushed him away. "Don't touch me! Don't you touch me!" he half-shouted. He moved so the door was against his back and held his hands up defensively. "Don't...don't touch me," he said again breathing heavily.

Standing back, Al watched as Sam moved away taking a defensive stance. He reminded him of a frightened animal who'd been pushed to a corner. Sam's fight or flight instinct had kicked in big time and he had to tread lightly to avoid a disastrous result.

Backing away slightly, Al held his hands up hoping to convey with both his words and his body language that he meant Sam no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you, Sam. I won't touch you if that's what you want. I just want to know what's going on. Are you afraid of this person?"

Sam kept eyeing Al warily. Finally, in a quiet voice he said, "I can't lose my job."

Al's head tilted. "Someone at work's doing this to you?"

"Please, Al," Sam nearly begged, "Please just let this go. I have it under control."

Al pursed his lips. "I have a responsibility to look into this, Sam. You should know that."

"There's nothing to look into." Sam's body was set in hard lines of defiance. "I don't need you to do anything. It's under control."

Al realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with this. At least not now. Right now he had to get Sam to calm down or the kid would never trust him and tell him what was happening. "Fine, Sam. I'll give you a chance to get it under control for good but one more 'accident' and I'm getting to the bottom of this, capice?"

"Capice," Sam responded. He hadn't dropped his defensive posture and was still eyeing his friend warily.

"Good." Al said, dropping the situation for the moment. "Now...let me help get that tree up. It will be a lot easier to decorate it if you don't have to hurt your back doing it."

Sam slowly moved from the door and took his coat off, dropping it on the chair again. "I'll get some water for it." He voice was low and embarrassed.

"Good idea." Al continued to work on the tree and had it up a few minutes later.

Sam found a glass on the drain board by the sink and filled it with water. It wouldn't be enough and he'd have to make more than one trip to the sink. He didn't get more than a step from the sink when the glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized as he got on his knees to pick up the broken pieces of glass.

Al turned suddenly when he heard the glass shatter. Moving to where Sam was on the floor, he bent down to help. "What happened?"

"I…I don't know," Sam stammered out. "It must have been wet and it just slipped. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you, Sam."

"Yes there is. Nothing's going right. It has to be my fault."

Al stopped Sam from picking up any more shards by the simple expedient of placing his hands over the younger man's hands. When he spoke, he spoke slowly making sure Sam was listening to him. "No...sometimes life just does that to us. It doesn't mean we did anything to cause it."

"These last couple of days, they really suck, Al," Sam said bluntly.

Al gave a small, reassuring squeeze to Sam's hands then let them go. "Yeah. They have. Hell to be you at the moment, right?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a quick chuckle. "It really is." He picked up a few more shards of glass. "Sorry I broke your glass and...uh...sorry I pushed you."

"No problem in either case, Kid. I know you didn't mean it." There was no mistaking that any reactions Sam had had were the result of his fight or flight instinct and the resultant adrenaline rush. He hadn't known this kid long but Al knew he'd never intentionally hurt anyone. He picked up the rest of what he could see of the glass on the floor and got up. "Now, the tree needs some loving attention and I think you're just the person to do it."

"No," Sam disagreed. "The branches need time to fall out. It won't be ready until tonight."

"Ok. You know more about trees than I do. I bow to your experience." He turned to the kitchen. "You ready for some lunch?"

"I could eat." Sam looked at Al quizzically. "Haven't you ever had a real Christmas tree before?"

"It's been a while," Al explained. He gave Sam a gentle push in the direction of the living room careful to avoid the area that he now knew was bruised so heavily. "You go on and sit on the couch for a while and I'll get lunch ready."

Al came into the living room a few minutes later with a plate and mug. Sam was sitting on the couch staring into the unlit fireplace and Al wondered what thoughts were going through his mind. Judging by the lines on his forehead, he had a feeling none of them were good. He put the plate down on the coffee table and handed the mug to Sam who startled when it came in his line of site. "You looked like you needed something to warm you up," he said not commenting on how the kid had jumped a little bit.

"Yeah, thanks." Sam took a sip from the mug of hot chocolate then put it on the table next to the plate. "I guess you're getting a whole lot more than you bargained for with me, huh? You didn't know what a mess I was."

Al stooped in front of the fireplace and started to light it. Once it was going, he sat next to Sam and answered him. "You're not a mess, Kid, so don't even say that about yourself. You hit a rough patch right now but you're going to get through it."

"I am, huh?" Sam asked dubiously. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"Cause, you're a strong person, Sam," Al replied earnestly. "You've got strength inside you I've seen in very few people before and that's going to see you through this all…that is unless you let that strength be your undoing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Al rested a friendly hand on Sam's shoulder and made sure his friend was looking at him. "It means, it doesn't make you weak if you ask for help. It just means you're human, that's all. You're human, Sam, just like the rest of us schlubs."

"Sometimes," Sam said softly sounding as if he were confessing his deepest sin, "I don't think I know how to ask for help."

Al knew that feeling all too well. Asking for help had been something he hadn't been able to do either. If it hadn't been for Sam forcing it on him, he'd probably living on some street corner somewhere with a bottle as his only friend. "You do, Sam. You just don't know that you're doing it. You just need to accept it when it comes…kinda like you made me accept your help." He slapped Sam lightly on the thigh and got up from the couch. "I'm gonna go get my lunch and bring it in here, too." He wanted to give the younger man a little time to think over what he'd said.

When Al got back to the living room, Sam was still sitting in the same position and his sandwich was uneaten. "I'm not afraid of him," he said abruptly as Al sat next to him. "I'm not."

All of Sam's reactions were contrary to that statement. "It's ok to be afraid, Sam," Al quickly said. "It doesn't make you less of a man if you are. From what I can see, you probably have good reasons to be at least a little afraid of whoever's been hurting you."

"You don't understand. I can take care of myself, I really can."

Al carefully looked his friend over. On first blush, he wouldn't think Sam was capable of taking care of himself in a physical altercation. The kid was just too polite…too nice. As he'd learned the last two days, though, Sam was capable of a whole lot more than he'd first thought. Based on that alone, Al had no doubt he could take care of himself in an altercation. "I don't doubt you can, Kid."

"It's just if I did," Sam continued not having heard Al, "It could mean I'd lose my job not just…" he stopped quickly as he almost gave name to his tormentor. "Not the other guy," he settled on.

Al had caught the slip and hoped that meant Sam would tell him who'd been causing problems. When Sam quickly caught himself, he knew it wasn't likely to happen now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look, Sam, I said I'd give you until after Christmas to get this straightened out and I mean it. How 'bout you try not to think about it right now. We'll eat lunch, and then we can get this place decorated like you wanted. How's that sound?"

"That's sounds good, Al". The relief that he wasn't going to be pushed any further on the subject was audible in Sam's voice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After the two men finished their lunch, they spent a couple of hours spreading the decorations that had been in the boxes and that they'd bought around the apartment. When they were done, the only thing left to be decorated was the tree.

Al decided it was time to start getting dinner ready and he also wanted to get some of the food for the party the next day started as well. He drafted Sam to help him in the kitchen.

Despite the younger man's claim that he couldn't cook, he proved to more than capable – if a little untidy – with the more basic things such as chopping and peeling. They'd been working amicably together for almost an hour and Al had set Sam the task of peeling potatoes for the mashed potatoes they'd be having that night.

While Sam was at the counter peeling, Al took a moment to watch him from behind. The younger man was bent over slightly and every now and then, he'd stop what he was doing to stretch out his back or to reach around and rub it. Without saying anything, Al slipped into the bathroom and came back out with a tube in his hands.

"Hey, Sam," he said coming back into the room, "can you come over here for a second."

Sam put down the potato peeler and turned around to see what Al wanted. "What's up?"

Your back's really hurting you, isn't it?" Al said as a statement as much as a question.

"A little. It's not bad."

"Don't give me that, Sam. You've been holding yourself so you don't move in certain positions and then you have to stretch out when doing that cramps up. You're hurting...I'm right...right?"

"I told you," Sam said in exasperation. "It's not that bad." He turned back to the counter, starting to peel the potatoes again.

Al took a deep breath and moved over to where Sam was standing; putting his hand on a spot that he knew the muscle must be tightening from the way Sam had been bending over.

"Yeah. What I thought," he said mostly to himself as Sam reacted negatively to the touch. "Listen, Kid, it's like I said. Sometimes you just need to let someone help you, you know?" He held up the tube of Ben Gay that he had in his hand. "This stuff is good at taking away the type of pain you're feeling and I want to help you."

"Ok," Sam agreed reluctantly. He put down the potato peeler again and walked over to where Al was standing. He put out his hand to take the tube. "Give it to me and I'll put it on."

"You think you can reach some of those spots? Maybe if you're a contortionist. You don't have a hidden talent or something?" Al said the latter with a teasing lilt.

"I'm not hiding anything," Sam quickly answered on the defensive. "You've made damned sure there's nothing I can hide."

"What do you mean by that?" Al asked, genuinely curious.

"Nothing. I just feel...I just feel like you keep pecking at me trying to find out everything."

Al blinked a few times and put down the tube. "Sorry you feel that way, kid." Al was taken aback by the accusation. He hadn't really allowed himself to move closer to another person except when the alcohol had loosened his inhibitions. His marriages and other relationships had suffered because of that. He'd really felt that since Sam had taken the time to get him away from the booze before it had totally taken over his life - putting his own career on the line for him - that perhaps it had been time to try a different tact. He'd been trying to reach out in a similar fashion and now this was his answer.

Sam saw the effect his words had on the other man and instantly felt bad for saying them. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "That wasn't fair for me to say. You're just trying to help me." He offered a crooked smile. "I guess you're right. My back's bothering me so I guess I'm getting a little grouchy because of it."

Al decided to take the words at face value as the apology they were. The kid's expression truly showed he was contrite and not just saying the words he thought he had to say. It was either that, or Sam Beckett was a far, far better actor than Al would have ever given him credit for being. "Ok. So do you want me to put some of this on your back or not?" Just because he was willing to accept the words and their implied olive branch didn't mean he was going to just go back to his former position. There had been too many times in the past that doing so had been an invitation to having his trust come back to bite him.

"Would you?" Sam asked. He felt that he still needed to take the extra step to patch up whatever rift he may have just caused between them. "I really am sorry, Al." He shrugged slightly. "I guess it's been a while since anyone's really cared enough to ask me stuff about myself. I've forgotten that it's ok when it happens."

Al nodded. "Yeah. I guess I can understand that." He didn't add that his understanding came from personal experience. Picking up the tube he told the kid, "Ok. Sit down here" He gestured to one of the stools at the bar. "And take off your shirt so I can get this on you."

"Don't suppose you'd put the heat up would you?" Sam asked half-jokingly before pulling off his sweatshirt and undershirt. "Ok, do your worst."

"It's already warm enough in here," Al said. He put a bit of the ointment in his hands and rubbed the cream around to warm it up before putting his hands on the kids back and massaging the knots.

When Al first started rubbing the cream onto his back, Sam tensed up as the dull pain momentarily increased. After a minute or two, it started to have the desired effect and he could feel the knots in his back starting to loosen and his body began to relax. "Smells like what Mom used to put on my chest when I was kid and had a cold."

"Yeah. Sort of works the same way," Al said as he expertly rubbed at the muscle.

"I used to hate the way that stuff smelled." A small smile touched Sam's lips. "I used to try to hide in the closet when I saw her get it."

Al lips twisted into a small grin. "Trudy did too."

"Trudy?" In the short time he'd know Al he'd heard about his wives and the many other women in his life but he'd never heard the name Trudy. It didn't sound like she was another one of his women.

The words had come out of his mouth unbidden. He figured that somehow the smell of the medicine had triggered the memory. "Um. Yeah. Someone I knew when I was younger," Al said by way of explanation. He was still worried about the way strangers would react to the fact that his sister had been retarded.

"Younger," Sam mouthed. His brows drew together as he tried to puzzle it out. "You have a sister," he blurted out. It would make sense if this Trudy person was someone Al knew when he was younger and she'd hidden just like he had. The only other possibility was a daughter but Sam just didn't think Al had any children even if he was rather amorous.

"Um...Yeah. Trudy was my sister," Al acknowledged, cautiously. He continued working on Sam's back unconsciously pressing a little harder due to the emotions the memory triggered. Love, guilt, joy, sadness all rolled into one.

"Ah," Sam exclaimed pulling away when Al pressed just a little too hard. "I'm sorry I asked. You don't have to hurt me."

"Oh," Al said, contrite. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was doing that." He eased up on the man's back, going back to the more therapeutic motions.

Hoping Al wouldn't get too rough again; Sam took a chance and asked, "She's younger then?"

Al stopped his hands again. Opening up a little he answered. "Yeah. She was my little sister. I took care of her when we were kids. At least the best I could."

Since it seemed that the question didn't bother Al this time, Sam decided to probe just a little deeper. "Why'd you have to take care of her?" Growing up he could remember times he'd been asked to look after his younger sister and keep her out from under foot when their mother was busy but it didn't sound like Al was talking about the same thing.

"She..." Al started and then decided to go all out. "She had 'Down Syndrome," he finished waiting to see how the kid would react.

Sam took in what Al had told him, digesting it. "Oh. So where is she? Does she live around here?"

Over the years, Al had learned to bury the pain and guilt that surrounded the loss of his beloved sister. Still, bringing her up always caused his voice to catch a little. "No. She passed on many years ago." Passed on was a euphemism that really didn't touch what actually happened, but it usually satisfied the few people that learned about Trudy.

"I...uh...I'm sorry." The sentiment sounded shallow even to Sam's ears but he didn't know what else to say. He hadn't expected this answer. He was tempted to ask Al what had caused his sister's death but chose not too deciding that would be prying too much. If his friend wanted to tell him, he would. Instead, he offered, "I have a younger sister, too, Katie. She just moved to Hawaii."

"Yeah. I remember the picture in your apartment. I bet she appreciates her big brother," Al said with a smile.

"I don't know. Maybe," Sam replied although deep down he knew it was probably the opposite. He pulled away from Al's hands and grabbed his shirt to put back on. "I'll finish peeling those potatoes now."

Right before Sam moved away, Al feel a certain stiffness return to the muscles he'd just loosened. With the words Sam had chosen, he wondered if there might be something more to the story but figured this wasn't the time to ask about that. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

"What do you want me to do with these when they're peeled?" Sam picked up the peeler and a potato and started on his task once more. He hoped Al wouldn't press him on his sister anymore. He didn't think it was something he was comfortable talking about just yet.

Al nodded to a pan. "I want to boil them. We'll have some tonight for mashed potatoes but some of them I'm going to use for some bacon-potato frittatas."

Grabbing a knife, Sam cut the potatoes into cubes them dropped them into the pan of water Al had indicated. He made sure the gas jet was on then turned to Al. "Anything else you want me to do?"

"How about cutting up the vegetables for the salad for tonight. I think I have some extra carrots and mushrooms." He started to turn back to his cooking, but stopped and added. "Put some frozen peas in a dish to thaw. A half cup will do."

Again, Sam followed Al's directions and the two worked in a companionable silence. When he was done cutting the vegetables, he brought the cutting board and knife over to the sink. "There anything I can snack on 'til dinner's ready?"

Al nodded towards the small pantry. "I have some blue corn chips in there. You'll find salsa in the fridge."

Sam opened the cabinet door Al had indicated and pulled out the bag of corn chips. As he did, he noticed the box of microwave popcorn and pulled out a bag of it instead. "You mind if I make this instead?"

"Sure, Kid. If you'd rather have that, that's fine," Al agreed.

"Great." Sam put the bag of popcorn in the microwave to pop. When it was done, Al encouraged him to go into the living room with it while he finished the last of the dinner preparations.

When the older man came into the living room about 15 minutes later, Sam was sitting on the couch munching on the bag of popcorn. He'd found a basketball game on TV. While dinner cooked, the two men watched the game. By the time dinner was ready, the Indiana Pacers had completed a convincing victory much to Sam's delight.

Al gave Sam a glance. "You really like the Pacers. I guess coming from Indiana that makes sense."

"Yeah, I like basketball," Sam agreed. He followed Al to the kitchen and pulled out dishes while Al took dinner from the oven. "I used to play when I was in high school. I wasn't bad."

"Really," Al commented. "Well, you've got the build for it. I'm a Lakers fan myself."

"I'll forgive you for it," Sam joked. He went to the refrigerator and started to pull it open but stopped and turned to Al. "You mind if I get us some drinks?"

"Sure." Al paused for a moment and then continued. "When you're an invited guest to my home, I want you to feel comfortable, Sam. Don't feel you have to ask me for something like that."

"Well, I just don't want to assume anything or be rude," Sam explained. He pulled some drinks out and put them down on the table.

As Al sat down, he picked up the conversation again. "You know, ever since the Lakers signed Magic Johnson, we've been doing great. He and Kareem are a winning combination."

"Yeah. I guess." Sam helped himself to the food on the table. "You didn't really strike me as the basketball fan type."

"I love to watch the action. It's an exciting game."

"It is. So, what other things do you like?" This seemed like the perfect opportunity for Sam to get to know his friend a little better. He realized that as much time as the two of them had spent together, he really didn't know that much about what he liked to do for fun...well, besides his interest in the opposite sex.

"I like a lot of things. I read, listen to music, watch sports, cook...lots of things."

"Lots of things," Sam echoed with a small chuckle. "Well, that sums it up. Ok, guess I need to be more direct. Why do you like to cook?"

"I'm Italian. What else would I do," Al answered as if that was explanation enough.

"What kind of answer is that? Just because you're Italian it means you cook? What? Is it genetic or something?" Sam tried to push just a little more. "C'mon, there's got to be something that you really, really enjoy...besides women. I'll tell you what," he continued conspiratorially, "you tell me something you like, and I'll tell you something I like."

"What's wrong with liking women?" Al quipped back. "And I think it is genetic. Italian's just cook. It's our culture." At Sam's suggestion, he nodded. "Ok, that works." He thought for a moment. "I like to watch boxing. Does that count?"

"Yeah, I guess it does...and there's nothing wrong with liking women. I've just never seen someone raise it to an art form like you have." As Sam cut the chicken on his plate, he thought about what he'd share as far as his interests. Finally, he offered, "I play the piano."

"What kind of music do you play?" Al asked, intrigued.

"All kinds. Classical, contemporary...whatever catches my fancy."

"That's great, Sam. I love music. I think that might be genetic as well. Food and music..." He paused with a smile. "And sex too. I think it's in our blood."

"Um, sure, Al. Whatever you say," Sam agreed.

"Well, it's true."

"I guess," Sam again said getting uncomfortable with the conversation in its present form. "What kind of music do you like," he asked in a hope to switch it to something he considered a more comfortable topic.

Al shook his head with a grin. Based on the times he'd spent with Sam, he was pretty sure the man was a bit naive and certainly a bit prudish where the fairer sex was concerned. "I like classical, jazz, opera, and a lot of other styles." he said, going with the sudden change of subject.

"Pretty eclectic," Sam agreed thankful for the switch in topic.

"Yeah, well, some would say that's me in a nutshell."

"I guess eclectic is better than boring," Sam pointed out. "I should know that from personal experience."

"What do you mean Sam," asked Al continuing to work on his meal.

"Nothing...it's just like I told you, I'm not exactly the life of the party." Sam poked at the food on his plate, no longer eating it as he thought about the times he'd been on the sidelines while everyone around him was having fun. "I never have been and I probably never will be."

"You're ok, Kid. Don't let anyone tell you different." Al put his fork down and reached for Sam's shoulder. "You know, it takes all kinds of people to make up a world and that includes you. Trust me, I've been around a lot of 'life of the party,' type people… being one myself. To me it's refreshing to find someone for whom that isn't the greatest priority."

"Thanks, Al." There weren't many people Sam had met who were willing to accept him completely the way he was or who were comfortable around him. He was hoping that what Al was saying to him was his honest feelings and not just what he thought he wanted to hear. It was one of the reasons why he'd never had much success with the opposite sex. They always seemed to be more than the slightest bit intimidated by him or just thought he was plain weird. "Is...um...is Donna Elessee coming tomorrow?" He'd met her shortly after he'd come on board at StarBright. At the time, she'd been getting ready to leave and move on but something had changed that. He'd been taken with her right away but hadn't quite worked up the courage to ask her out.

Al frowned slightly at her name. "Um, no. Dr. Elessee is going home for the holidays from what I understand."

"Oh, that's too bad." Sam caught Al's reaction to his question and it prompted him to ask, "You don't like her, do you?"

"Oh, she's a competent scientist. Top notch. I'm just not real enamored with her personality. She seems too caught up in herself if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't," Sam answered honestly. "She seems really nice to me."

Al shrugged as he looked at Sam critically. "You're obviously interested. Just watch yourself, ok?"

"Why?" There was more going on than Al not liking Donna's personality and Sam wanted to know just what it was. "She an axe murderer or something," he joked.

Al took a breath. "No. Not that." He could tell that Sam wanted to know more. "Listen, the scuttlebutt is that there have been a number of guys that have dated Dr. Elessee. I just feel she leads them on but eventually the ending is the same. From what I've heard, she drops them at the worst possible times."

"Well, maybe it's just because they weren't the right person. You can't fault her for not wanting to continue a relationship with someone who isn't right for her." Sam felt a need to defend the woman even though he really hadn't gotten to know her yet. He just felt there was something about her although he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"I suppose," answered the older man, not fully convinced. "Just watch out, ok?"

"Watch out for what? I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself, ok?"

Al wasn't really sure that was the case. Sam just didn't seem to understand that the ways of women were often unfathomable and occasionally paved the way to heartbreak city. He just hoped the kid wasn't setting himself up for one. "I know, Kid," he finally settled on. He knew that if someone were hell-bent on cultivating a relationship, nothing anyone said would really make a dent in that.

"Good so...let's change the subject." With quick motions, Sam started to eat as fast as he could. "It's just that everyone always thinks I can't handle myself with a woman. Just because I don't date a lot, that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not a fool."

Al wasn't sure what to say. On the one hand, Sam had said he wanted to change the subject yet in his next breath, he'd continued it. Al wondered if there were some doubts in the other man's mind. Still, he'd given his warning and now it was up to Sam to decide what he was going to do but a final statement was in order. "I never said you were. I guess it's just that I've been around the block a few times, and I just don't want to see you hurt. That's all."

Despite the seriousness of the warning Al was offering, the way he offered it tickled Sam and he started to chuckle. "Around the block? The way you talk it's more like you've been around the whole city a time or two."

Al smiled back. "Yeah, I guess that's true. I've always been open to new liaisons...except when I've been married. You don't play around with that."

"Who'd a thunk," Sam said shaking his head but with a twinkle in his eye. "He's actually got a limit when it comes to women. I'm shocked."

Al looked at Sam directly, his voice taking on conviction. "Marriage is special, Sam."

"Ok, ok," Sam said as he held up his hands. "It was just a joke." He started eating the rest of his dinner. As he did, he said under his breath, "Just a small, little joke."

Al licked at his lips lightly. "Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"It's ok." Sam offered Al a quick smile to convey that he really was ok. "You're probably just not used to me making jokes, that's all. I mean, I don't think they're beyond your intellect." He kept his head down trying to hide that the smile was breaking out into a grin.

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Al asked, not sure where his young friend was going with this.

"Nothing," Sam said with a sigh realizing that his attempt at humor had fallen flat. "I guess I really don't tell a joke well."

"It's all in the timing, Kid," Al said. "I'm sure that when I get to know you better like your buddies at MIT, I'll get your drift. I'm just a little out of practice." He remembered some of the highbrow humor that used to go around the table during the pub hops while he'd been a student there.

"What buddies?" The question was out before Sam could pull it back in. There hadn't been a lot of friends while he was in school. In the beginning he'd been too young and after a while, just too busy to form any friendships. There'd been acquaintances, people he'd gotten along with but the last people he could honestly say he'd had that buddy kind of friendship with were Sibby and Herky when he was back in high school. The last, that is, until Al had come along. He really did think they had that kind of friendship.

Al laughed, "Now that's funny, Kid." He stopped cold when he realized that Sam wasn't joking. "You're not kidding are you? Geez, I didn't mean anything by that, Sam. It's just that you're an incredibly likeable guy and I just can't picture you not having buddies."

"Well, guess you just didn't know the same people I did. They weren't exactly welcoming to the guy who was a couple of years younger than everybody else was. You learn real quick to just keep to yourself."

"What do you mean younger?" Al asked.

Sam looked at Al trying to gauge what game he was playing. He knew all that information should have been available to him before he sent the offer letter for the position. He couldn't believe Al hadn't taken the time to read it and assumed this must be a joke in return for his poor efforts. "Good one, Al. I get it, I'm not funny. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"No, Sam. I really don't know what you're getting at. How old were you when you started at MIT?"

"Al, didn't you read any of the information they sent you about me? It was in that." Sam saw that Al truly didn't know what he was talking about. "I'd just turned 17," he explained. "I finished the undergrad program in two years." He watched as his friend digested that information. "Just what did you know about me when you offered me the position?"

Al looked rather sheepish. "Not a lot. When the job for Quantum Mechanics scientist opened up, I'd contacted a few of my contacts from MIT. They told me I'd be an idiot not to offer you the job. I guess that was good enough for me."

Sam was crestfallen at Al's answer. "So, you didn't know anything about me? I didn't get this position because of my skills, or my education, or anything. I just got it 'cause someone gave you my name?" As he asked each question, his disappointment faded away to be replaced by anger. He'd thought, up until now, that he'd earned the position he had. Now he was finding it out was just chance that his name came across Al's desk and nothing else.

"Well, I guess you could take it that way. The fact is, if you didn't have the skills and education, you wouldn't have been recommended. Dr. LoNigro and Dr. Singer are people I have a lot faith in. Both of them are experts in their fields. Toughest classes I ever took were the ones they taught," Al said by way of explanation.

"But, you didn't even look? You didn't care who I was? I was just some person?" He shook his head slowly. "I should have known. I should have known when that letter came. No one just hires you for a top-level job out of the blue like that. You were drunk, weren't you?" he asked directing the question at Al. "You were drunk and just didn't care as long as you got a warm body and that's all I was...am, right. Just a warm body." He pushed away from the table, got up and started pacing. "Geez, no wonder no one ever wants to talk to me or have anything to do with me. They don't think I've earned my position and I can't blame them. I didn't."

Al looked down. He couldn't deny what Sam was saying. Before meeting the man pacing in his dining area, he'd have tried to bullshit his way through the questions. "You're right, Sam. I was drunk and I was trying to fill a space. I'm sorry." He paused and then added, "But your project lead has told me that it was the best placement I'd made in a long time. You may not have earned the space to begin with, but you've shown you can do the job."

"But you didn't even take the time afterwards," Sam said half in question, half in statement. "Even afterwards you didn't bother to find out what it was you hired." He stopped his pacing and faced the other man. "I thought you were my friend but it sounds like you don't really care anything about me." He hung his head saddened to find out how wrong he'd been. "I thought you were my friend," he said again softly.

The older man's eyes turned sad and he sighed, knowing now that hadn't been the right tact to take. Seeing how his decisions hurt Sam, he tried to explain his reasoning, which had seemed so right at the time. "No, I didn't. To be honest, I didn't think that looking at a paper that described you was as important as getting to know you first hand. I talked with Siggy some more but I just didn't want to read the resume. I am your friend, Sam. At least I'm hoping we stay that way."

Somewhat mollified by Al's words but not completely satisfied, Sam sat back at the table. "Why didn't you tell me before this? Didn't you think everyone else would know about it? Geez, I feel like such an idiot right now because I didn't know."

"It never came up. Besides, I'm telling you, your project lead's have been singing your praises. She says that you have a unique way of looking at things." Al suddenly realized what Sam had said a few moments back. "What do you mean that people don't want anything to do with you? What other problems are you having, Kid?"

"It's nothing." Sam quickly regretted what he'd said previously. "I'm just not Mr. Popularity is all but I'm used to that." He saw from the look in Al's eyes that he was going to press him more. "Just drop it, Al. There's nothing you can do about it. You can't make people like me."

Al stopped. He knew that Sam was right and yet he felt there was a connection to the 'accidents' that the kid was experiencing. "If there's a hostile environment, I sure as hell can do something about it. In fact, I have an obligation to address it."

"Oh, not again." Sam felt his frustration from earlier creeping back in. "You said you weren't going to push anymore, remember? Can't you just leave it be."

Al felt caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. He'd given Sam his agreement that he'd give him a chance to fix it. Now he'd learned it was bigger than he thought. Still, he felt he needed to show his faith in the man. "Ok, Sam. You get Tuesday. You haven't fixed it by then, I'm going to step in, got it?"

"Tuesday?" the younger man asked in shock. "You said I had 'til Friday? What do you mean Tuesday?"

"I mean that you get one day. It's fixed by then or else I'm stepping in." He looked at Sam's face. "Listen, if you don't fix it and I don't, we both could be out of work. You for not reporting it and me for not doing anything about it."

"No." Shaking his head, Sam again got up and began to pace. "You're telling me no matter what, I lose? No way, Al. That's not fair. I haven't done anything. You're the one who brought me here but now it's my problem. No way. Just stay the hell out of it and it'll be fine."

"Then if you can take care of it, do it. You have until Wednesday."

"Don't you dare give me ultimatums." Sam was quickly reaching boiling point. Every little thing that had gone wrong during the week seemed to be building up to this moment. Right now, finding out that Al had only done the most cursory background check on him – and that only after he'd been hired - coupled with the man's continued need to intervene where Sam didn't want intervention became the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. "Just stay out of it. I don't want your help and if you do anything, I'll deny it. You can't prove anything."

Al's eyes narrowed. "Don't push me on this, Sam. I'm just doing my job." He got up and started to clear the table of his dishes.

"I didn't ask you to do anything. I'm better off by myself," Sam spat. He stomped to the bathroom, the only place he could find some solitude, and slammed the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Al finished clearing off the table and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. As he did, he calmed down. Sam needed to understand that he **had** to do what he **would** do if the kid didn't take care of the situation. He was putting his neck out giving him until Wednesday. By all rights, he should be doing something on Tuesday morning when they returned to work. He went over to the bathroom door. "Sam?" He reached for the doorknob, wondering if it was locked. He was surprised to find it wasn't. "Sam, come on out and let's resolve this."

"Go away," Sam mumbled but with no heat in his voice. He'd wedged himself into the small space between the sink and the wall and sat there with his knees drawn up.

Al opened the door carefully and looked in. Seeing Sam curled up and looking vulnerable, he went in. "Ah, Sam. You're not the only person that's faced this type of workplace situation. That's why the laws have been put in place. It's not your fault, it's theirs."

"It doesn't matter. I don't deserve any help."

Al's face morphed into confusion. "What? Why on earth would you say that?"

"I didn't help Katie. Why should anyone help me?"

"Katie," the older man repeated. "Your sister? I'm sorry, Sam. I'm not following you."

"Her husband used to beat her and I didn't do anything to help her. I didn't even know." Sam spoke unemotionally and didn't meet Al's eyes. "Nine years...nine years they were married and she was always making excuses for him - making up stories to explain a broken arm or a black eye and I was never smart enough to know what was really happening."

Al pursed his lips. If there was one thing he couldn't abide, it was a man that mistreated women. Still he knew there were women, and even men, that would accept their mistreatment and try to hide the reality from everyone, including themselves. He understood that better then most. His second wife had thrown small appliances at him when she was mad and had sometimes connected, providing an occasional black eye or other injury that he'd explained away. "Sometimes it's hard to know what's really going on, Sam. You said you didn't know. Sometimes people can be smart but they miss that kind of thing because the other person wants them to miss it and because we love them, we don't put to and two together."

"That's no excuse. You don't know what she's gone through and I never helped her." He looked up at Al now, his eyes blazing with anger. "He beat her when she was pregnant. He didn't care about her or the baby. My nephew has cerebral palsy and it's probably because of the beatings Katie got carrying him. I should have figured it out. I should have helped her out of that situation but she had to do it all on her own."

Al's eyes closed as the thought of that horror went through his mind. He reopened his eyes and looked squarely at his friend. "Were you there, Sam? Were you there to see that or were you separated by distance and only hearing the excuses and rumors?"

"I was there when he was born. I saw the black eye when I went to see her in the hospital after Tommy was born but when she told me she opened the medicine cabinet and it hit her face, I believed her." Sam looked down again, his voice once more a monotone. "She's my sister and I never helped her."

Al sighed and moved to sit down on the floor to be closer to Sam's eye level. "You believed her because she wanted you to believe her, Sam. Did your sister ever ask you for help? You wouldn't have turned her down if she did, would you?"

"She shouldn't have had to ask. I should have known. You know why she finally left the bastard?" He didn't wait for Al to answer the question. "She left him 'cause he decided she wasn't enough and he hit Tommy. A five year old kid with CP and he hit him and when Joanna tried to protect her brother, he hit her too. That's when Katie left him and that's when I knew what she'd been going through."

"I hate to tell you this, Sam, but that's sometimes what it takes for someone who's willing to take the abuse." He remembered back to the situation that had lead to him finally divorce Kaitlin. She'd taken to throwing things at him in public and that was the final straw. When he couldn't deny it anymore, he left. "Some don't even leave then. It's a hard pill to swallow but it's true. At least she finally left. You can be thankful for that."

"But don't you see. It shouldn't have taken that long. I should have seen what was happening and made her get out of it just like you...just like…" He didn't finish the sentence. To finish it would be to give truth to what Al had been saying earlier and he just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Just like I knew what was happening to you," Al finished for his friend. Al bit at his lip. He'd never told anyone what he was about to reveal but he felt he needed to help the man beside him now. "I knew what I was seeing because I've been there, Sam."

"What's that supposed to mean," Sam asked suspiciously. He wasn't sure he could remain if Al gave the wrong answer.

"I mean that...um..." Al was finding it hard to admit it even after all these years. It was only the suspicion growing on Sam's face that made him spit it out. "My second wife used to abuse me." Now that he'd said it, he felt the embarrassment again, got up, and walked out. As he did he thought, "Great going, Al. The kid's going to think you're a wimp."

"Wait. What?" Sam called after the departing man. He got up and followed him out to the living room. "What do you mean your second wife abused you?"

Al looked away from Sam as he answered, his face reddened. "She threw things at me including toasters. We went through all six that we'd been given as wedding gifts in a two month period." He swallowed. "Toasters, a blender...if she could pick it up, I got hit with it."

"I'm...I'm sorry." Sam was taken aback and other than expressing his sympathy, he didn't know what to say.

Al continued keeping his eyes from Sam's. "Um. Yeah." He swallowed again. "But speaking from that experience, I can tell you, if you didn't see it, it was because Katie didn't want you to see it. She likely was telling herself it would get better if she just stayed with him. Those are the kind of lies we tell ourselves."

"But I should have seen it. I should have known." Sam squeezed his eyes closed trying to decide just how much he wanted to share right now. Deciding that since Al had been honest with him, he deserved to return the honesty, he finally said, "I should have seen it because I've done the same thing."

Al's eyes come up to meet Sam's. "What? This has happened to you before?" He couldn't help the surprise in his voice.

Sam moved to the sofa and sat on the edge of it. "I told you I went to MIT when I was 17, right?" Once Al had nodded, he continued, "The guy I was assigned as a roommate, let's just say he didn't like to do his own work and he didn't like to take no for an answer. I wasn't going to do his work for him," he said agitated. "So he hit me, a lot. I didn't know what to do. It was the first time I'd been away from home on my own. I didn't really have any friends and I didn't want to lose my scholarship so I never told anyone - not even Mom and Dad. If Mom knew, she would have made me come home. I would have lost my chance. So I just kept my mouth shut and if anyone asked me, I just made up something. And that's what Katie was doing and I didn't know. I should have but I didn't."

Al took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he thought about this. He decided to look a little deeper. "How did that end, Sam?"

"Somebody got tired of doing his work for him and went to the Dean and he got expelled. But the person who talked to the Dean, he got put on academic probation because he didn't say anything and knew the guy was cheating. He got punished for being a victim."

"So you let it go," Al guessed.

Sam leaned forward with his arms dangling between his knees. When he spoke, he directed his eyes and words to his interlocked hands. "The guy was gone. What was the benefit if I said anything beside the fact that I'd get put on probation too?" He looked up, anger and sadness warring for a place in his eyes. "I couldn't afford to lose my scholarship. There was no way we could afford the tuition. I had to keep my mouth shut just like I can't afford to lose this job. Mom and Katie, they need the money I send them every month. The move to Hawaii cost so much and the job Katie was supposed to have fell through and then there's Tommy's medical bills. I can't afford to screw this up no matter what."

Al looked at Sam and knew that there was a war going on within him. He wanted to come forward and do the right thing but he was afraid. Al wanted to tell him that he'd be protected but he knew the reality was that sometimes the fallout of dealing with the issue the right way was feared more that the abuse. Add to that that there were other's that would believe that the victim was at fault. He decided to go back to his original time line. "Ok, Sam," he said caving into the situation. "End of the week. That's as far as I'll go though. This problem isn't just going to go away."

"I just want to take care of my family. That's all that's important. I wasn't there for Katie before but I want to do what I can to help her and the kids now. I don't care what it costs me." Sam expression took on a pleading look, his eyes wide. "Please, don't make me do something that's going to jeopardize that."

Al pulled out a cigar. He knew that Sam wasn't crazy about them and tried not to over do them. Sometimes, though, just holding one seemed to help him think. Now was such a time. Finally he asked, "Have you thought this guy might be hurting other people?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Sam admitted. It was a dilemma that he hadn't counted on. If Dawson was causing the same problems for someone else, it left him with a decision to make. He could step forward and potentially lose his job preventing him from continuing to help his family but sparing someone else or continue with the status quo and insure that he could help with his family's financial burdens.

"Well, these people usually don't change unless they're getting help and from what I've seen of the bruises, I don't think that's the case."

Sam was quiet a moment digesting all that Al had told him before coming to a decision. "I can't risk it, Al. I can't risk not being able to help my family. I'm asking you, as my friend, don't ask me to do that. Just walk away from this like you don't know anything. Please."

Al looked at Sam. The man had put his job on the line for him. Could he ask him to do it again when he had so much he believed was at stake? "I don't know, Sam. I'm simply not sure but I will promise you this, you have at least until Friday and I'll give you fair warning before I do anything."

"Ok," Sam agreed realizing that this was the best he was going to get. "I want to show you something," he said getting up from the couch and going over to the shopping bag he'd put his meager amount of Christmas gifts and cards in. Although he'd agreed, he wanted to make sure Al understood exactly what he was putting first. He pulled the pile of cards out of the bag. From one he pulled out a photograph, and handed it to his friend. "That's Tommy and Joanna."

Al looked at the two young children. He could see the protectiveness that Joanna was showing towards her brother and knew without question one would have seen her eyes in one of his own pictures from when he was young. He'd felt the same way towards Trudy. Tommy's body was bent but his eyes showed a spirit and intelligence beyond his years. "They're beautiful, Sam."

"They're innocents, Al. They don't deserve anything they've had to face and I'll do whatever I have to in order to make sure they get everything they need." He caught his friend's eyes and held them. "No matter what," he said with intensity, "they come first."

Al again agreed. "I know." He swallowed. He'd been much the same way where Trudy was concerned. "Right now though, we don't have to worry about it. I'm going to give you at least until Friday so let's cross that bridge when we get there." He gave a small, nervous laugh. "Besides, maybe your luck will hold and someone else will come forward.

"Do you really think that's going to happen?" Sam couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice. "I just don't want to do anything that's going to make it any harder on my family. I can take what...," he caught himself again before revealing who his tormentor was. "I can take the punishment I'm getting as long as I know I can take care of my family."

Al looked again at the photo of Sam's niece and nephew. "But who's going to take care of them if something happens to you?" he asked reasonably.

"Nothing's going to happen to me. Besides, the kids are the beneficiary on my life insurance so if something ever did…they'll be taken care of." Sam took the photo back from Al and tucked it back into the Christmas card. "Mom and Katie try to hide things from me. They don't want me to know things aren't as easy for them as it should be. Chuck, that's Katie's ex, hasn't been keeping up with his child support payments. That makes it hard for her. Insurance only covers so much of what Tommy needs and I think Joanna gets lost in the shuffle sometimes. Katie works all day and Mom's there for the kids taking them back and forth to school and Tommy to his therapy appointments. If I'm not there to help them with that stuff, I want to do whatever I can even if it does mean I get a few bumps here and there." He got up from where he was still kneeling on the floor. "It's worth it to me if I know that they have what they need."

Al nodded once more. "Family is special. Mine's pretty much gone but I do know what it's like when you love people enough to go the extra mile."

"Then you know I'm not going to let anything compromise what I can do for my family." He looked at Al levelly making sure he understood the full import of his words. "Not even our friendship, Al. If you try to do anything about this…this situation without my agreement, I'll deny everything. I'll say that you're lying. I was willing to put my job on the line for you once 'cause I believed in you. This time I'm asking you to believe in me and don't put me in that position. I told you I can handle this on my own and I will."

Al took a breath. "Ok. Fine. I get you, Sam, but for now, I don't want this nozzle's virtual presence to spoil our evening. Let's forget about it for now since there's literally nothing either of us can do about it at the moment, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Sam quickly agreed. Al was right. Even without being present, Dawson had found a way to infect the evening and cast a pall on it. He knew that he had a lot to do with that when he dug in his heels and became stubborn but it was the only way he could see to handle things right now. He glanced over at the tree. Bereft of decorations, it looked forlorn standing in the corner. "Maybe we can do something about the tree instead and make it look a little more festive."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Al said. He held up the cigar. "I just want to smoke this first."

Sam knew that Al liked his cigars and he'd hardly had one since he'd been there. He hoped that his friend would someday give them up but for now, he was a guest at his house. "Sure, Al."

In deference to Sam, Al went out to the courtyard to smoke. Sam had tried to tell him he didn't need to but Al had another reason for going. He needed to think though a few of the revelations of the night. Deciding that he would let things play out he finished his cigar and came back inside. "So, Kid, How do you want to start?"

Sam had taken the time that Al was outside to make sure that all the strings of light were untangled. He'd put them in a box. Occasionally, he'd look over to the door, not totally sure how things were between him and his friend. He knew Al was right. He had an obligation to do something about what he'd heard. If Al had been on thin ice before, if this blew up on him…on them…it was likely that both of them would be in the unemployment line. When Al came back in, ready to decorate the tree, he figured there was nothing that could be done tonight.

"Well," Sam said looking at the tree appraisingly. He walked over to where the decorations for it were, picked up the box of lights, and held it out to Al. "Why don't you start putting that on and I'll..." he looked around the room for the stereo then crossed over to it. "...put some Christmas music on the stereo." He tuned in a radio station playing Christmas music and the familiar strains of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" soon filled the apartment.

Al looked at the box of lights and took it from Sam. "Ok," he said taking a string out of the box. Hestarted to wrap it around the inside truck of the tree.

Sam turned back around just as Al started to wrap the lights around the trunk. "Um, Al, what are you doing? You're not supposed to put the lights **in** the tree. You're supposed to put them **on** the tree."

Al turned back to Sam. "This is how my first wife taught me to put them up. She said you put the first string in the tree and later strings on the outside. Said that gives the tree more depth." Al explained.

"Uh, depth. You do realize it's a tree, dontcha? Besides, there aren't enough lights there to do that. Even if there were, you put that many lights on that tree and it's going to overpower it, don't you think."

Al gave the tree a long look. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He started to take the lights off.

While Al took the lights off and then put them back on the outside of the evergreen, Sam started to sort out the tree ornaments and make sure they all had hooks. When he got to a small knit pair of blue baby booties, he laughed softly. "I can't believe she gave me these," he said holding them up for Al to see.

"I take it those were your first pair of shoes," the older man said with a grin.

"Yeah, they were. Mom said I wore them my first Christmas and that's why they went on the tree." Sam balanced the booties in the palm of his hand and looked at them. "Hard to believe I was ever that small, huh?" He put them down beside the rest of the ornaments. "I'm just surprised Mom gave them to me and didn't keep them with Katie's and Tom's."

Al shrugged. "She's your mother. I wouldn't have a clue."

"I guess she had her reasons." While Al finished putting the lights on the tree, Sam finished sorting the ornaments. They finished their tasks at nearly the same time. Sam picked up the handmade star and brought it over to the tree. Reaching up, he perched it on the highest branch. "I guess it's time to get this decorated now."

"Yeah." Al gave Sam a smile. Suddenly, he remembered something. "I'll be right back." He made a beeline to the bedroom. A few minutes later, he reappeared with a box about the size of a paperback novel.

"What is it?" Sam asked curiously as Al opened the box. Whatever was in it was wrapped in tissue paper.

Carefully pulling the paper away from the treasure hidden inside, Al answered. "You remember what I said about my sister?"

"Yeah. She was...uh...she was special."

Al listened to Sam's word's and wasn't sure how to take them. He now knew the kid had a special needs child in his family but the way he said those words, Al got the feeling Sam was uncomfortable with the subject. "Yeah, she was. She was very special." He finally finished unwrapping the item. It was a crudely made angel ornament with a lot of glitter glued on. So much so that one could say it was rather gaudy. Al looked down at the ornament in his hands. "This is all I have left of her.

Sam looked at the way his friend held the handmade ornament. "You've kept it all these years like that and you have it to bring back the memories," he said softly. "It obviously deserves a special place on the tree."

Al's eyes lit on the angel. "Yeah. That's true." He smiled, remembering Trudy making the ornament the last Christmas they were together at the orphanage, before they took her away to the institution. "She was thirteen when she made that."

"She did a good job," Sam remarked honestly. "It takes skill to use enough glitter to reflect the light. Most people don't get that and just use a little."

Al's head snapped to look at Sam. "That's what she said."

"Well, she was right," Sam responded matter-of-factly. "Now if I could have just gotten her to convince Tom of that."

"Most people didn't listen to her. They thought she was stupid. She wasn't. She just saw things differently. Retarded doesn't mean stupid, you know."

"I know that," Sam agreed in an effort to calm his friend. "If anyone thought that, they were wrong but some people...they just don't know what to do when someone's different and it doesn't matter what makes them different. Your sister had Down Syndrome, Tommy has CP, I..." he cut himself off. "People just don't know so they make assumptions and it's not fair."

Al caught that Sam was about to say something. "What, Sam? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing," Sam said with a small shake of his head. "It's the past. It's not important now." He picked up an ornament and brought it over to hang on the tree. "Different just scares people is all."

"Yeah. You have no idea how much it scares people. My sister never hurt a soul but still they teased her mercilessly."

"Kids can be mean." Sam picked up a few more of the ornaments, carefully hanging them on the tree. "Katie says that Tommy gets that a lot. I know I lived through it. I wish it could change but I guess it's never going to."

Al's eyes grew wide and skeptical. "You lived through it? Surely no one thought you were stupid, kid."

"I didn't say that." Sam continued to hang the ornaments, explaining a little of his past without ever looking at his friend. "It's just that sometimes people forgot that just because I was in the 4th grade, I was still only seven years old and I didn't really fit in with the kids in my class. Everyone expected me to act like the other kids and when I didn't, they assumed there was something wrong with me. And the other kids, they weren't so thrilled to have a "baby" in class with them."

"You were in the 4th grade when you were seven? Geez, I didn't know they pushed kids ahead that far. Why didn't your parents just have you put back a year?"

Remembering that Al hadn't read any of the background information he'd been forwarded, Sam began to calmly explain. "I was pushed up two years because I was way ahead of the rest of the kids my age. I was getting bored in class and...well...I guess I was a little disruptive."

"You disruptive?" Al asked. He'd picked up one of the ornaments. "This one's really nice. It looks old." He was holding a heavy blown glass sphere in a deep, almost opaque green.

Sam looked at the ornament Al was holding. "Mom said Grandma - her mother - gave it to her and Dad the first Christmas they were together." Curiously, he asked, "Why don't you think I could be disruptive?" ""

"You just don't seem the type, Kid. I picture you as more the kind that sits there quietly and does everything he's told to do before he's told to do it not as the kid wreaking havoc in the classroom.

"I didn't 'wreak havoc'," Sam explained. "Like I said, I was a little disruptive because I was bored. I asked a lot of questions and I didn't necessarily wait until I'd been called on or the teacher had finished speaking. That didn't make her too happy."

Yeah," Al agreed, unconsciously rubbing his knuckles. The nuns had hit them with a ruler when his natural curiosity got in the way of their perfectly managed classrooms. He'd lost count of the time he'd heard one of them say, "Albert Calavicci. Your role here is to learn, not to constantly question me."

"Once they bumped me up a couple of grades," Sam continued missing how Al rubbed at his knuckles, "I stopped asking so many questions 'cause the work was a harder and challenged me a more."

"Makes sense." Al reached into the box again and pulled out a felt covered cardboard candy cane with gold piping around it. "Who made this?"

Sam looked closely at the ornament. "Um...I'm not sure. It could have been me or Tom. Is there a name on the back of it? Mom always put our names on the stuff we made." He spied an ornament similar to the one Al was holding except in addition to the gold piping, it was also covered in glitter. "Wait, hang on," he said as he held up the ornament he'd picked up. "I think Tom made that one and I made this one." He flipped over the ornament to confirm his guess. "Yeah, this one was mine." He turned the candycane so Al could see the back where his name had been neatly printed.

"You really did like the glitter, didn't you," said Al, a grin on his face.

"Well, it does catch the light." Sam smiled sheepishly and hung the ornament on the tree not too far from Trudy's angel. "Guess your sister and I have something in common," he said before getting another ornament to put on the tree.

"Yeah," Al agreed. He chuckled. "Who'd have thought I'd be so lucky as to have two such great souls in my life."

Sam was caught off guard by Al's words and the ornament he'd been reaching to hang on slipped from his hands and tumbled to floor shattering. "Oh no," he breathed out when saw the mess it had made. It was one of the glass balls they'd bought at Kmart that day so it didn't hold any sentimental value but it did make quite a mess when it shattered.

"I'll get the vacuum," was all the older man said. He didn't say it but that was another thing his sister and this man had in common. Although Trudy tried hard, she usually broke at least one ornament every year.

"I'm sorry," Sam called after him as he went to the broom closet. "It just slipped from hand." He pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. "Mom used to keep me away from any of the breakable stuff 'cause I'd always drop something and break it."

"You don't say," Al said with a grin. He brought out the vacuum and plugged it in. "You probably just wanted an excuse to go shopping for new ornaments."

"No, I didn't," Sam corrected. "I'm just a little clumsy sometimes, that's all. I'd rather keep the old stuff than get new stuff."

Al turned on the machine and ran it over the area where the glass had wound up. The sound of the machine hid the light laugh he breathed out. Somehow having Sam here tonight had brought back that joy he'd had as a child when Trudy was around. When he was finished with the clean up, he turned the vacuum off. "I think I'd better just keep this out...you know...just in case."

"Well, you know," Sam began returning the teasing lilt he heard in Al's voice, "after this comes the tinsel. I've been known to create quite a tinsel blizzard."

"Yeah, that's what you said earlier. As I recall you also said you'd pick up every piece that fell on the floor? Am I right?" Al's voice was still light.

"Really? Did I really say that?" Sam asked feigning ignorance. He hung more ornaments on the tree and kept his face hidden from his friend. "I don't know...I'd have to bend over an awful lot and you did work hard to loosen up my back. That could just make it sore again."

"Well..." Al said continuing the banter, "I could just make sure the box gets lost...that would solve that."

"Aw, you wouldn't do that would you?" Sam turned to Al, his eyes wide in innocence. "You promised I could have it. I'll clean it up." He schooled his face so that he wouldn't start to laugh.

Al looked at the expression on Sam's face, not sure how the teasing seemed to have turned serious. "Um, yeah, Sam. I was just kidding," he said quickly hoping to avoid another sticky situation. Things had already been strained enough earlier" "You can use the tinsel," he assured

"Gotcha," Sam said with a chuckle when Al caved in so quickly.

"What?" Al asked, confused. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Al. Nothing." Sam concentrated on hanging the rest of the ornaments on the tree. Every now and then a chuckle would escape from him. His innocent act had rarely failed him in the past and it looked like it would work on Al. The only one who'd ever been immune to it was his mother.

Al gave Sam a curious glance. He wasn't sure why, but somehow he thought he'd been had or something. Problem was, he didn't know why he felt that way. He shrugged it off. Tonight he just didn't care. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had family again.

With good natured ribbing and teasing passing between the two men, they soon had all of the ornaments on the tree. Occasionally, Al would ask Sam for the history behind something that caught his attention. Once the last ornament was hung, Sam turned to Al with a broad grin. "Time for the tinsel now." It had been years since he'd had so much enjoyment decorating a Christmas tree and he'd enjoyed relating the little anecdotes of his family when Al would ask about the ornaments. He'd thought the older man was going to laugh so hard he'd knock over the tree when he'd told him about the time he'd accidentally gotten glue and glitter on one of the cats and how it had shed the shiny stuff for days. Most times, when he went home for Christmas the tree had already been decorated and he'd missed the joyful chore.

Al made a showy groan as he started to hand the box of tinsel to Sam. As the younger man reached out for it, he pulled it back slightly and said with exaggerated seriousness, "You sure you really need to do this?"

Sam dropped his hand down. "We don't have to if you don't want to." There was no hint of manipulation in his response this time. "I just thought it would make it look nicer, that's all." He looked at the decorated tree. This tree with it's hodge podge of old, new, and handmade ornaments, had a wam and homey feel to it He just wished he could add the silver strands. He'd always enjoyed the way they reflected the colored lights making it look like there were even more lights on the tree.

Al laughed. "Oh Sam, I really had you, didn't I." He handed him the box of tinsel. "Go to town, Kid."

Sam eagerly took the box and ripped the packaging off of it. He carefully pulled the strands out and started to drape them on the branches. He was very particular in their placement doing his best to make sure they accented the tree and didn't just make it look gaudy. "See, it's already reflecting the lights," he pointed out when half the tree was tinseled.

"Yeah and you've hardly spilt any too," Al agreed.

Sam looked down at the floor where a few stray pieces of silver were. "I'll pick 'em up. I said I would, didn't I?"

"I'm really not worried about it, Kid." Al looked at the tree. "You're doing a great job. I don't think I've seen a prettier tree," he said honestly.

Stepping back from the tree slightly, Sam took a good look at it. "I knew once it was decorated it would be perfect," he said knowingly. "It just needed a little love is all." He didn't add how it reminded him of a certain admiral he knew. He'd just needed someone to show him a little love as well.

"Yeah. It was a good choice, Sam."

The rest of the evening, the two men watched TV. Al finally turned to Sam with a yawn. "I'm going to hit the hay, Kid."

"Sounds good." Sam stretched and yawned as well. "I think I'm ready to get some sleep, too." While Al checked the doors and made sure the apartment was locked for the night, Sam got the bedding from Al's bedroom and made up his bed on the couch. "Good night, Al," he said as he stretched out on the couch.

"Goodnight, Kid. Have pleasant dreams." Having provided the final goodbyes for the day, Al went into his room and closed the door. Somehow he knew that tonight he'd sleep better than he had in years.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam was awake at his usual early hour. It was rare that he slept late and the only reason why he had the previous day was because of his overindulgence the night before.

He lay on the couch for a few minutes trying to figure out if Al were awake or not. When he didn't hear anything from the bedroom, he concluded his friend was still asleep. He decided he could repay Al just a little for all he'd done for him by making him breakfast.

Getting up from the couch, he went into the kitchen and took stock of what was available. He wasn't much of a gourmet chef but bacon, eggs, and toast were things he could handle quite well. Putting a pot of coffee on to brew, he started breakfast preparations.

**********

Al's consciousness of the world around him slowly coalesced. What brought it into sharp focus was the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing. He hadn't had that pleasant wake up call in awhile and smiled. The night before had been free of the dreams that often crashed into his sleep.

Throwing the covers off, he put his feet into his slippers and pulled on his robe. Tying the sash on the multicolored velour robe, he went into the bath to take care of his morning business before going into the other room.

Opening the door to the main living area, he called out, "Good morning, Sam. That smells really good."

"Good morning," Sam said when he saw Al come into the room. He turned to the coffee pot and poured a mug handing it to Al over the bar. "Breakfast should be done in a few more minutes but the coffee's ready."

Reaching out, the older man smiled gratefully. "Thanks." He took a sip. "Not bad, not bad at all."

"Thanks. I might not cook that much but I can make breakfast. If you want, I can make it tomorrow too. I know how to make Mom's griddle cakes." As he talked, Sam took the strips of bacon out of the frying pan and set them on a paper towel covered plate to drain. "So, how do you like your eggs?"

"Eggs too?" Al said with feigned surprise. Seeing Sam still expecting an answer, he replied, "Over easy." He went to the front door and opened it, retrieving the newspaper. "Griddle cakes, huh? How are those different from pancakes?"

"You don't know the difference between griddle cakes and pancakes," Sam asked in mock shock. "I can't believe it. And you call yourself a cook."

Al's eyebrows went up in an 'oh yeah' style. "Well, I bet you can't do Pasta alla Puttanesca so don't push it." He explained his question, "I just never have figured out what the difference is."

"It's simple," Sam explained slowly as he cracked the eggs. "Griddle has seven letters and pan has three. Anyone can figure that out."

"Ha ha, Sam." Al said. "Being a physics whiz must have helped you figure that one out."

"Nope," Sam answered with assurance as he put a plate down in front of Al, "it's all the time I spent in culinary school." He looked up at Al and let out a long sigh. "That's right, you didn't read that. You don't know I went to the Culinary Institute of America for a couple of semesters."

"Good one, Sam," Al said with a chuckle. "Try that one again when I'm sleeping and maybe, just maybe I'll believe you."

"Ok, don't believe me if you don't want to. I suppose you won't believe me if I tell you I played at Carnegie Hall either."

Al looked at Sam carefully when he said that. There was something about the way he said it as well as an honesty in the kid's eyes. "That's great, Sam. When did that happen?"

"When I was nineteen."

"Nineteen? Geez...first year in college. What'd you do? Join some acting group at MIT?" Al asked, figuring there might have been some fundraiser or something. He was stumped.

"I'd already graduated from MIT...or at least finished my undergrad courses. Remember, I told you that last night. I started just after my 17th birthday."

"Oh. That's right." Al was totally stumped. "Ok, so how did you end up playing at Carnegie Hall?"

Sam's face took on an innocent look as he answered with one of the oldest punchlines around. "Practice, practice, practice." Seeing Al give him a dirty look for pulling out that old chestnut, he told him, "Well, it's true. "I'd just been accepted to the graduate program in music at Tufts University and I was invited to give a recital at Carnegie Hall." Sam put his plate down and came around the bar sitting on the stool next to Al. "Why don't you believe I went to culinary school but you believe I played at Carnegie Hall?"

"Your eyes, Kid. They don't tell untruths very well," Al explained. "I guess it's good for me you didn't take them up on it."

"Up on what?" Realizing that he hadn't brought his mug of coffee with him, he got up to get it.

"Tufts. You didn't take them up on the graduate work. Not that it isn't impressive - getting an offer in both physics and music. I guess it's true. Math and music just go together."

"I did go to Tufts and I do have an advanced degree in music," Sam explained slowly. "Just tell me, how much do you actually know about me."

"I know that you've got your Ph.D. in quantum physics and Siggy LoNigro said that I'd be an absolute idiot not to hire you." He figured that going into the other things that Siggy had told him wouldn't be all that helpful. He'd told him that Sam was a great guy and that he'd known him since Sam had started at MIT where he'd received his undergrad and doctorate in physics. Siggy also told him that he'd sort of taken him under his wing after Sam's father had died. Other than that, Siggy had told him it was a privilege to have had the chance to mentor his prodigy. "At the time it was good enough for me. Since then, I've learned that you are a pretty ok guy, that your project leader says that she's never had anybody in her section that's as competent as you are. Outside of that, really only what we've talked about when we've been together."

"So the only reason you even know I have a degree in physics is because Dr. LoNigro told you?" Sam asked in wonder. "Not to open this can of worms again but, why didn't you ever take the 10 minutes or so just to read through even my educational background. I'm not talking about the whole thing but at least that."

Al shrugged. "I guess in hindsight, it would have probably been a good idea. Siggy, though, sold you to me and when Rob Singer agreed, I figured everything was fine." Al's eyes moved away. "My drinking kept me from doing a lot of things I should have and after you helped me get off the booze, I just kept telling myself I'd get to that. Then it just didn't seem to matter." Indeed, Al had figured that way they'd be on equal footing. He wouldn't know more about Sam and Sam wouldn't know that much about him. Seeing how Sam was reacting though, he realized he may have figured wrong. " I'm really sorry, Kid."

Sam had two choices. He could either keep berating Al for not doing his homework or he could just let it go. He knew nothing positive could possibly come about if he kept pushing the issue. What was done was done and it was time to accept that and just move on. "I know you are and I accept your apology. I won't bring it up again. You have my word."

"Why don't you tell me what I would have seen if I'd read it, Sam. I am interested," Al said. He hoped his voice would carry the truthfulness of that statement. "Just because I didn't read it doesn't mean I don't want to know."

"Just...you know...my background. That kind of stuff." Sam had never been comfortable talking about himself. If he were asked direct questions, he could and would answer them but being asked to just talk about himself, well, that was a whole different ballgame and one he didn't feel comfortable playing in.

"Yeah. Resumes usually tell someone one's background." Al answered wondering why the kid seemed so reluctant to tell him when he'd basically raked him over the coals about not learning about him. "What kind of stuff?"

Sam shot Al a goofy half grin. "Um. You know. Listen, if you want to ask me I'll tell you. I'm just not sure about reciting it."

"Ok, let's start with work. What did you do before this?"

"Work, huh?" Sam squirmed at the question. It was always hard to explain that he hadn't really ever held a job and the older he got, the harder it became. "Well, I worked on the farm when I was younger and did some tutoring and was a TA in school. I worked as a waiter for a semester." He didn't add that the waiter job hadn't gone well and had ended when he'd unceremoniously dropped a plate of food in a customers lap.

"That's it?" Al reacted. Seeing Sam's face he clarified. "I've just never met anyone your age that hasn't worked more than that. We're you parents wealthy or something? You didn't need to work?"

"No they weren't wealthy," Sam answered uncomfortably. "Sometimes I think they barely made ends meet. I was just always so busy with classes that...well…there was never enough time."

Al took that in. "A professional student, huh. How'd you manage that?"

"Scholarships mainly or I'd get those stipends for teaching." Sam got up and went back to the kitchen to get the plate he'd put the toast on. "My bother's life insurance helped me out the first couple of years. I worked a few summers in some internships. I'd do other odd jobs here and there, too, but nothing permanent."

"Hmmm. I just don't get it though, Sam. You said you started school when you were 17 but you must be at least late 20's. Siggy said he'd never seen anyone as gifted as you in quantum physics. Why'd it take so long to get your doctorate?"

"I'm 30," Sam corrected as he put the toast down. "I've had my doctorate in physics since '75."

Al's face scrunched as he did the simple mathematics. "But you said you didn't have time for work because of school. I don't understand."

"I was pursuing other studies. You got it right. I was a career student." Sam studiously paid attention to the food on his plate wondering if Al would ask about just what those studies were. Generally, when he started to explain his different interests, it caused people to look at him like he was a bug under a microscope. It was a look he'd learned to hate over the years.

Al tried putting the things he'd learned into context. "Wait a minute. You said you're 30. That means you were 19 in '72 when you were offered the music scholarship at Tufts which you said you took. But you also said you've had your physics doctorate since '75." It was becoming murky. Finally Al stated. "The only way that all of that could be true is if you took your courses in music and physics at the same time and that just doesn't seem possible."

"A lot of things in life don't seem possible but they are." Sam was starting to see that bug under a microscope look from Al now and he wasn't liking it any better than when others looked at him that way. In fact, he liked it a whole lot less. "I did my doctoral work in physics and music at the same time." He looked at Al daring him to contradict him. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

Al considered the question and finally shrugged. "No, I guess not. You must be a pretty talented guy to do those together." He was silent for awhile. "Ok, so you must have started your music degree and taken a long time to get it, right? I mean, I guess your physics took precedent."

"You're not getting it are you?" Sam asked with a sigh. "I just said, I did my doctoral work in physics and music at the same time." He put down his fork and pushed the plate away from him slightly. If he didn't just explain it all, he'd keep getting that look. "I got my doctorate in physics and music the same year. After that, I stayed in school and wound up with a few more degrees." He tried for a small laugh. "Isn't that what career students do? Collect degrees and then do nothing with them?"

"How many degrees do you have, Sam?" Al asked quietly.

Here it comes, Sam thought sourly. It never failed. This was the place he usually lost people. "Seven," he answered flatly.

"Seven?" Al asked incredulous, but then his curiosity kicked in. "What are they in?"

Sam started to tick off the degrees in a monotone. "Physics, music, medicine, archeology, linguistics...do you want me to keep going?"

"That's only five. Yeah. Keep going."

"No," Sam said quietly. "I think that's enough. You already think I'm some kind specimen now. Maybe it was better when you didn't know."

Al heard the sadness in Sam's voice. "What's bothering you Kid? That's quite an accomplishment. Aren't you proud of the work you did?"

"Of course I am," Sam snapped. "It's just...do you know what it's like to be so curious about things and to want to learn so that it's like this big hole?" he asked quickly. "So you cram everything you can into the hole and you think it's filled but there's still more room so you keep putting more and more in but you still want more? That's how I feel except the more knowledge I put in that hole, the farther away I am from everyone around me. The less normal I am."

Al thought about that. "I think see what you mean." He pulled out one of his cigars and started to prepare it to give him something to do while he mulled over the information that he'd just learned. Finally he spoke. "I'm no expert or anything, but it sounds like you might be a genius or something. Certainly would fit what you just told me."

"Gee, you really think so?" Sam asked dryly.

Hearing the tone of voice, Al looked over sheepishly. "Guess you'd already have found that out, huh."

Pulling his plate back, Sam started quickly eating the remainder of his breakfast. "Figured it out when I was a kid. I've lived with it my whole life."

"That's why you were in fourth grade when you were only seven," Al said, stating the obvious again. "Where did you grow up? Didn't they have any special programs like for gifted and talented?" Al's third wife, Ruthie, had had a nephew that was really smart. He'd been in such a program.

"I told you. I grew up on a dairy farm. It was in Indiana – a small town called Elk Ridge."

"Oh," Al said. "I remembered it was a farm but didn't realize it was a small town. Probably not a lot of genius's in the school system there."

"No, there definitely weren't many geniuses there." Finished with his breakfast, Sam got up to take the plate to the sink. As much as he'd given Al a hard time for not reading up on his background yesterday, now that he was asking about it he was getting uncomfortable and felt the need to change the subject. "You think you can give me a ride over to my apartment today. I didn't check the mail yesterday and Katie said she'd sent something out from the kids. I want to see if it came."

"Yeah, sure." Al took the cigar which was now prepared and lit it. Last night he'd wanted time to think when he'd gone outside. Today, it was just a force of habit. After getting it started, he continued the subject. "So let me get this straight. You've known you were a genius since you were a kid; you finished your bachelor's in two years. You went on to get a graduate degree in music and physics and sometime after 1975 you managed to get five more degrees under your belt." Al thought for another moment. "It's a good thing I wasn't working on all cylinders, Sam."

That stopped Sam short. "Why? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with it. Just that that type of a resume is intimidating."

Sam slowly shook his head. "Why is everyone always intimidated by me? I'm just a regular person."

"Yeah. I've been learning that since I met you. Thing is, when all you have is a resume in front of you and other resumes to look at as well...," Al paused "…and a deadline, a person can't take the time to get to know every applicant. So you make choices based on what's on the paper. It's not fair, but it's reality."

"So you would have passed me over why? Because I'm too qualified? Besides, I didn't apply for anything. Remember? You came looking for me."

"That's why I'm saying, it was a good thing I wasn't doing things by the book." Al saw the confusion and some anger in Sam's face. "Listen, Kid. The lab had been pushing for a new scientist to come on board for over a month. I had like 50 resumes on my desk and had barely looked at any of them, not that the ones I read had a lot to recommend them. So, to save time, I called Siggy. He told me about you and the fact that you were probably the most intuitive scientist he'd ever met."

"And I guess the rest is history." Sam didn't say it with any anger in his voice although there was a little resignation. He visibly shook his head slightly. "I guess it really doesn't matter in the end how I got here, does it. The important thing is that I'm here and...and I really think this is turning point in my life. How do you know Dr. LoNigro anyway? I've never heard anyone call him Siggy.

"Well, when I got back from Nam, I finished my doctorate..." He saw Sam's eyebrows rise at that piece of information. "Yeah. I've got a graduate degree...one...it's in astrophysics...I needed it for my work at NASA. Anyway, Siggy was one of my professors and once I was at NASA, I suggested him as a consultant. We've been on a first name basis since."

"You went to MIT? I wonder why I never saw you there." Sam finished rinsing off the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. "NASA? That must have been when he took that sabbatical." He finished loading the dishwasher and closed it up. "So what were you doing in NASA?" As he asked, he realized that he probably knew as little about Al as his friend had known about him.

"Yeah. Graduated from there. Don't know why we never crossed paths." He went on to answer Sam's question. "I was a pilot during the Apollo program. Was on one of the last missions. Even read Genesis from space. Real kick in the butt doing that."

"You went to space?" Sam asked eagerly. He came back to the other side of the bar and sat on the stool next to the older man. "Tell me about. What was it like? How did you train? How long were you gone?" His questions came out in a barrage and his expression reflected both his eagerness to know the answers and his awe to know someone who'd been in space.

Al chuckled lightly at the eagerness in Sam's questions as well as the little boy look of wonder on his face. "We were actually in space a little over five days. Training was intensive. Lot's of physical endurance training and we had to master the vomit comet."

"The what?" Sam started to ask but then held up his hand. "On second thought, I don't think I want to know." He just looked at Al for a few seconds truly in awe of the man. "I watched everything that was on TV about the space flights. After Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, I thought that's what I wanted to do for a while. Wow! I can't believe I'm sitting here with a real astronaut."

"Well, I wasn't around when that happened but I was excited to get a chance to go into space."

"Wow!" Sam said again. "That really must have been so exciting. How come you're not still with NASA?"

Al shrugged. "After Apollo there were a few years while the shuttle was being developed. You know I'm still in the Navy so they felt having me work on more space research projects for the DoD would be a better use of my time. That's how I ended up here at StarBright." What he didn't add was that part of the reason he'd been shuffled off to this project in the desert was that right after his time at NASA he really started going downhill, using the bottle to banish the dreams and flashbacks he had of his time in Vietnam. He'd already been promoted to rear admiral by then and the Navy was just doing what it could to minimize any embarrassment he might cause them. He was lucky they hadn't pushed for his retirement.

"Oh." Sam felt it was time for him to do some of the quizzing and learn a little more about the man sitting next to him. "So, what did you do in the Navy before you went to space?"

"Fighter pilot," was the simple answer.

"A fighter pilot, huh? You make it sound like nothing." Remembering that Al had said something about Vietnam, he continued, "Is that what you did in Vietnam? What was it like there?" He was curious about the place his brother had died.

Al's eyes broke with Sam's. "Well, it was a mixed bag for sure."

"And..." Sam prompted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, it's not something I like to talk about, ok."

"Yeah, sure." Sam got the sense that asking for more information about Al's time in Vietnam would not be a good idea. Maybe sometime down the road when they knew each other better and longer but not now. "I was just curious, is all. Um...you're probably going to have a lot of stuff you want to do for the party tonight so I guess we should get going now if we're going over to my place." Noticing that Al still had on his pajamas, he added, "Well, after you get dressed, that is...or, if you don't mind if I borrow your car, I could just go there by myself."

Al took in a breath. "It's not that I don't trust you, Sam, but lend you my car? I'll be ready in a few minutes." He got up and went into his room. About five minutes later he came out in Dockers and a polo shirt.

"Afraid I was going to steal it or something?" Sam asked sourly when Al came back in the room. "Or do you just think I live in such a bad neighborhood you had to be there to make sure someone didn't run off with your tires?"

Al was taken by surprise. He could tell that the kid was taking this for more than what it was. He explained, "It's not that, Sam. That car's my baby. I wouldn't even let my ex-wife drive it."

"It's all right." Sam did his best to shrug off his hurt. "You just made it sound like I was a car thief or something."

"Sorry if it came out like that, Kid." He read the hurt in Sam's face. "I'll tell you what...how about I let you drive while I'm with you. That way I can see how you handle her."

"Nah, that's all right. I don't want to make you uncomfortable and that sounds too much like when Dad was teaching me to drive. I think I'm a little too old to need that anymore."

"Ok," Al said, grabbing the keys off the bar. "Let's go then."

Sam grabbed his coat and followed Al out to the car. As he got in, he looked up at the sky. "Those clouds look kind of dark. You think there's a storm coming in?" As he finished the question, a chill wind blew.

"Might be. A little snow would be nice."

"There's almost always snow in Indiana for Christmas." Sam got in the car and pulled the door shut. "Last year, a couple of inches fell on Christmas Eve and I took the kids sledding the next day. I thought Katie was gonna tan my hide when she found out Tommy had been on the sled. Sometimes she's really overprotective of him." He looked over to Al and quickly added on by way of explanation, "I made sure he was safe. I'd never do anything to hurt him."

"I believe that, Sam," Al said as he started the car and started to pull out." Once on the road, he didn't say anything but seemed to be thinking.

They drove in silence for a while before Sam ventured a guess as to what Al seemed to be thinking about. "You're thinking about your sister, aren't you?"

Al looked at Sam. "Huh?" he said when he realized that Sam had asked him something. Recognizing what he'd asked he answered, "Actually, no. I was just wondering what the other two are."

"Other two? Other two what?" Sam asked in confusion. They hadn't been talking about two of anything and he couldn't imagine what Al was getting at.

Your other two degrees. You said physics, music, medicine, archeology, and linguistics but didn't tell me the other two."

"It's really got you thinking doesn't it?" Sam looked over to Al with an evil grin on his face. "Good. I think I'll keep them my secret. After all," he said in a singsong voice, "You know where to find the answer."

"Yeah, but that's back in my office at work and I won't be able to get to that until Tuesday," he groused.

"Well, I guess you're just going to have to wait then." When Al gave him a dirty look, Sam couldn't help but laugh at it. "Hey, it's not my fault you put off reading it."

Al bit at his lip. "You know...I could just drive up to the lab. It's not that far from here." he said as he was approaching Sam's apartment.

"You could," Sam said as he got out of the car, "but you won't."

"We'll see about that, Kid. Hurry up and get what you need." Al watched Sam head up to his apartment. He was tempted to just head up to the lab to get the vitae. Still, that would strand the kid, even if only for a half hour or so. He decided to wait until he came out.

Sam was just pushing open the door to the mail room when the door to one of the apartments opened and an elderly woman leaned out calling to him. "Mrs. Simmons, what are you doing here?" he asked in concern walking over to her. "You shouldn't be here without any heat."

"My son's picking me up in a little while. You're a good boy to worry about an old lady," the elderly woman said while patting Sam's cheek gently. She stepped back into her apartment and came back out with a box. "This came for you yesterday. I've been looking out for you to make sure you got it."

Sam took the box, looked at the return address, and saw it was from his sister Katie. "Thanks, Mrs. Simmons. I've been waiting for this. It's from my sister." He looked at the woman in concern. "Are you sure your son's going to be here soon. My friend drove me here but I'm sure he wouldn't mind driving you to a hotel so you're not here in the cold."

"A good boy," Mrs. Simmons repeated with a small sigh and shake of her head. "Ted said he'd be here soon." As she spoke, a car drove in and parked next to Al. "As a matter of fact, there he is." She waved at the man who got out of the car.

Sam waited until Ted had joined them at his mother's door and Mrs. Simmons had introduced him before taking his leave. "Have a merry Christmas, Mrs. Simmons."

Mrs. Simmons pulled him down and pecked him on the cheek. "You have a merry Christmas too, Sam." As he walked down the stairs and to Al's car, he could over hear the woman telling her son that he was a good boy. He went to the car and got in the front seat.

Al looked over at Sam. "You got everything?"

"Yeah. The box from Katie came." Sam looked at the medium-sized box curiously. "I wonder what it is. She already sent Christmas gifts to me but she said this came from the kids."

"Huh." Al said, noncommittally. He pulled out and started up the road towards the lab instead of back towards town.

"Where you going?" Sam asked when he noticed that Al wasn't heading back to his apartment.

"You were the one that said it Sam...if I want to know what's on the vitae, I have to read it myself. So I'm going to pick it up at the lab.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam was incredulous that Al was going to go out of his way to get the vitae. "You've had that for months and never read it and now you're going to go to the lab on Christmas Eve to get it just to satisfy your curiosity?"

"Yeah." Al said.

"Oh, come on. You can't just wait until Tuesday? You've waited this long. What's so important that you need to know now?"

"I told you, Sam. The only reason I didn't read it after we met...and after I dried out...was that I wanted to get to know you as a person, not as a piece of paper. You said I need to read it to get the rest of the story. Ergo, I'm going to retrieve it now."

"Oh for crying out loud, fine. What do you want to know? I'd rather not go the lab right now and if that's the only way I can get out of that then I'll tell you whatever you want."

"It's not that far, Kid. I could just get it and be right out..." Sam glared at him. "Ok. Ok." He pulled into the next side road and turned around. "Ok. So what were the other two degrees?

"Anything but that," Sam said with a smug look. "That you need to wait for." When Al started to turn the car around he added, "It's only fair. Call it your punishment for not checking when you should have. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "You didn't really tell me much about Vietnam when I asked."

"That's different, Sam," Al said flatly.

"Ok, it is," Sam agreed. "I just don't know why I don't get to keep a secret. It's not going to be forever - just two days." He thought for a moment. "How about a deal? If you can guess what they are before Tuesday, I'll take you to dinner Tuesday night."

Al stopped his turn. "Ok," he agreed and aimed his car back towards town. They drove a little. "You said you lived on a dairy farm so, agriculture?" he asked.

"No. I wouldn't need a degree in agriculture after the time I spent on the farm." Sam wrinkled his nose slightly. "Trust me; you don't need an advanced degree to know which end of a cow to milk. Besides, I didn't really want to spend my time on the farm." He said the last with a small amount of guilt.

"Ok, I guess that makes sense." He thought for a while. "Computer science?"

Sam looked over to Al in surprise. "Uh, yeah. That's one of them." He hadn't thought Al would figure them out that quickly and didn't think it would take long before he guessed the other. "You don't get to guess the other one 'til tomorrow," he quickly added hoping that his friend would forget. Otherwise, he'd be the one doing the buying.

"You didn't say that before, Sam."

"No, I guess I didn't." There was a mischievous glint in Sam's eyes. "I'm making up the rules as I go along. Look at it like a Christmas gift. You'd have to wait 'til tomorrow to open it."

Al sighed. "Ok, Kid." He glanced over to the other man. "You can be difficult sometimes. You know that?"

"I've been told that," Sam replied with a light laugh. "C'mon," he chided, "I'm just having a little fun. You didn't think I was serious all the time, did you?"

"I guess not," Al conceded. "Ok. So I get the physics. I can even understand the music. Lot's of brilliant scientists are good in music." He thought about the other degrees that Sam had told him about. "What type of medicine? Are you a pharmacist or something?"

"Nope, not a pharmacist. I'm a medical doctor." Al looked as if he were going to ask why when he heard the answer prompting Sam to add, "My mom always wanted me to be a doctor so I did it for her."

"You became a doctor so your Mom could say, 'my son the doctor,'" Al asked amused.

"No. I thought that's what I'd do at least for a while when I got my MD. I didn't just do it so my mom could say that." Sam was a little insulted that Al didn't seem to take his achievement seriously. "I could have been a good doctor if that's what I wanted to do. I was offered a position at Massachusetts General."

Hearing the disappointment in the kid's voice, Al quickly backpedaled. "It was just a joke, Kid. If you're as good at medicine as you are at physics, I'm sure you probably would have cured cancer or something."

"Don't humor me. I hate it when people do that. I took it seriously. I wanted to help people." Sam looked away and continued sadly, "You can't always help people, though"

"Yeah," Al said. His voice was sad too thinking of Trudy and his father. He wished someone could have helped them.

"There was this kid," Sam continued not hearing Al. "He was just a little younger than I was at the time and he'd been in a motorcycle accident. I did everything I could when they brought him in the ER but I couldn't save him. I just couldn't. I had to go out to that waiting room to tell his parents but they knew. As soon as they saw me, they knew. And that's when I knew that being a doctor didn't mean you always saved people and I just couldn't do that. I couldn't be the one to give people that kind of news...tell them that their loved one had died or that they had some terminal illness."

Al nodded. "I can see that." He noticed how sad Sam had become talking about this part of his life. He decided not to dwell on that subject. "Ok. So what's the story with the archeology?"

"Huh?" Sam wasn't ready for the quick change in subject. "Um, when I was young I was interested in Egyptology - the pyramids and stuff."

"I've never really liked that stuff since I saw "The Mummy," Al said with a shiver. "Too spooky."

"Spooky? It's fascinating. It's like...it's like visiting the pyramids is traveling back in time."

"Not when you have Boris Karloff going around killing people."

"That's just the movies. You don't really believe that stuff do you?" Sam asked looking at Al trying to gauge if he were pulling his leg or not.

"I don't know," Al said. "I guess not but then, you never know. I just think it's really creepy going into places where dead people are."

"Dead people can't hurt you," Sam pointed out matter-of-factly. "It's the living you gotta worry about."

"Well, I'm not going to give the dead people a chance if I can help it," the older man said with another shiver. "What do you mean about the living?"

"Nothing really, just, have you ever heard of a dead person who robbed a gas station or drove drunk or anything like that. The dead are harmless."

"I'm not too sure about that and I don't want to talk about it, Sam." He again changed the subject. "Tell me about the linguistics.

Sam noticed the change in subject was abrupt again but didn't comment on it. He did file away Al's seeming fear of the dead thinking the knowledge might just come in handy later. "What about linguistics?"

"I mean, why linguistics? Which language?"

"Because I could," Sam answered simply. It didn't look like that answer sufficed. "I find languages interesting and wanted to learn more about them. That's all. As far as which, I speak seven modern and four dead languages.

"Wow! You speak Italian?" Al asked, curious.

"No. I never got around to Italian. I've been meaning to, though. Why?" Sam asked good-naturedly, "You offering to teach me?"

"Maybe later when there's time," Al said. They'd reached his townhouse and he parked the car in its space.

"I'll have to take you up on that." Sam followed Al into the house bringing the box with him. "Let's see what this is." He pulled the tape off of the box and pulled out the contents. It was a decoratively wrapped gift. Attached to it where the usual "don't open until Christmas" note would be, there was, instead, a note indicating that he should open whatever it was right away. He carefully ripped off the wrapping to reveal a photo album with a hand-made card taped to it. Opening it, he recognized the childish writing as his niece's and read the writing out loud. "Dear Uncle Sammy. Mom said you can't be with us for Christmas this year. Me and Tommy don't want you to feel lonely for us so Mom helped us make this for you. Love JoJo and Tommy." He handed the card to Al and flipped open the book and started turning the pages. They were filled with photos of him and his family from past Christmases.

"That's really nice, Sam," Al commented as he leaned over Sam's shoulder to see what was in the book.

"This is amazing," Sam said slowly turning the pages and studying the photos. "Look at this," he pointed to a picture of himself holding an infant. "That was Joanna's first Christmas. I was so scared I was going to drop her. She was so tiny."

Al looked at the picture of Sam with the baby. The look on his face a priceless and Al laughed lightly. "You look like you're going to be sick or something."

"I was," Sam agreed. "Katie let me hold her long enough to take the picture and that was it. She was afraid I'd infect her with my germs."

"Germs?"

"Well, that's what Katie kept saying even though I kept telling her I couldn't infect the baby. I had food poisoning. She was perfectly safe from me." He made a face of distaste. "I haven't eaten egg salad since then."

"That must have been tough being sick at Christmas. Not a lot of fun," Al commented.

"I don't know. It wasn't all bad." Seeing the strange look Al gave him, Sam hastened to explain. "After being mostly on my own for the previous five years, it was kind of nice having Mom fuss over me and not having to be by myself when I was sick."

"Yeah, I guess there is that," Al agreed.

Sam flipped through a few more pages looking at the pictures. "This is the first year since the kids were born that I haven't been with my family for Christmas. I didn't always make it home before that but the last eight years; I've made a point to get home."

Al turned the page. He saw a picture of Sam with his nephew on his lap. The boy's head was off kilter but the smile on his face showed he was happy. "You're a natural with your nephew."

"He's an amazing kid. Despite all he's gone through, he's so positive about everything." A thought occurred to Sam and his face lit up. "He would love to meet you. He's always telling us he's going to work for NASA when he grows up. He loves space and anything to do with it. I can't imagine what he'd do if I told him I knew a real astronaut."

Al smiled and then started for his bedroom. "Give me a minute."

"Was it something I said," Sam joked when Al walked away. As he waited for his friend to come back, he started flipping through the album once more. Each picture brought back memories for him that were as sharp as if the events just happened yesterday. As he got to the back pages, there were photos of him, Katie and their brother Tom at Christmas when they were young. "I miss you," he murmured brushing his finger over one picture of his brother and father.

As Al walked back into the room, he saw Sam running his finger over a picture. The look on his face spoke to deep sadness. He made his entrance a little louder so that he wasn't intruding on the moment. He held out an official NASA hat that he'd kept in his closet. "You think Tommy would like this?"

"Like it? You're kidding me?" Sam accepted the hat when Al handed it to him. "He'll love it. He'll think he just won the lottery."

"Then it's his," Al told him.

Sam looked at his friend, sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks. This really means a lot to me and I know it'll mean a lot to Katie, too. Tommy hasn't really had much in the way of a positive male role model in life - just whatever time I've been able to spend with him. Chuck...he never wanted to accept Tommy the way he was. I think he resented him." As he spoke about his ex-brother-in-law, he became angry. "The bastard never even played catch with him."

Al put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "That nozzle will get his due someday," he said. He thought for a moment. "You know, I might be able to set something up with some of the guys that still work there. A visit for your nephew after the new year might work out."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked in excitement as his anger quickly melted away. "Can you really do that?" A little of his excitement faded. "Do you think you arrange something for Tommy **and** Joanna? I can't leave her out. She gets forgotten sometimes enough as it is."

"I'm pretty sure I have a few favors I can call in for that, kid. I don't think it would be hard to get something set up for your entire family."

"I don't know what to say." Sam was feeling speechless but forced himself to find the words to express his gratitude. "You don't even know the kids but you're willing to do so much for them." He shook his head slightly in wonder. "Thank you doesn't seem enough."

"It's enough, Sam. The way I see it, children should have good things come their way. If I can make that happen, then I'm all for it."

"They really are good kids. I know I haven't been around a lot of kids and I probably am biased but..." he shrugged slightly. "Do you mind if use your phone? I want to call Katie and tell her the album came."

"Sure, Sam."

"Thanks." Sam went over to the phone and dialed the number for his sister's home. He listened as it rang and then was answered by the answering machine. He left a message letting her know that he'd received the photo album and how much he loved it. After explaining the problem with the heat at his apartment and that he was staying with a friend, he left Al's phone number for her to call him back. "She must be out," he said unnecessarily after he'd hung up.

"Ok." Al looked around his place. "Well, I'd better get to straightening up the place if I'm having company tonight."

"Straighten up?" Sam looked around the portion of the apartment that he could see. "It looks pretty neat if you ask me."

"You think this looks neat?" Al asked. "The place needs dusting, the sweeper run, and the bathroom and kitchen cleaned. I grant you, it's not a major cleaning but anyone can see it needs it."

"Um...ok. If you say so. I guess I just can't see it. So what do you want me to do?"

"You don't need to help me if you don't want. It's my party."

"Yeah, but I'm here and I'd feel bad just watching you clean. Just let me know what you'd like me to do."

"Well, there's the living area, the kitchen, and the bath. Which would you like to take?"

"Whichever one you want me to take. I'm not really fussy."

"Then you can do the bathroom while I work out here. The stuff you'll need is under the sink."

"Ok." Sam got the cleaning stuff from under the sink and went into the bathroom. He looked around not sure where to start. To him, the bathroom looked clean but if Al wanted it cleaned, then he'd clean it. He gathered up the towels from the racks and deposited them in the hamper then knelt down to clean the bathtub. When that was done, he also cleaned the sink and the counter around it and then the mirror over the sink. Looking around, he was satisfied with the job he'd done. The bathroom looked as clean as it could get. He finished off by putting out the new towels, gathering the cleaning supplies and going back out to where Al was cleaning in the kitchen. "It's all set. What's next?"

Al had finished the kitchen while Sam was in the bath. He'd just finished mopping it out when Sam came out. "The living area needs dusting." He went into the bathroom to pour out the water in the bucket. He noticed that the toilet hadn't been wiped off nor the floor wiped up. Knowing that a lot of men seemed to miss things, Al just shook his head and finished that up before going back into the living room.

When Al came out of the bathroom, Sam was standing in the living room. He had a duster in one hand and was looking around the room lost. "What am I supposed to dust? I don't see any dust."

Al walked over to one of the side tables. He took his finger and rubbed it over the surface. A barely perceptible line appeared on the table. "You don't see that?"

"Well, not until you did that. It looked fine before." He wiped the duster over the table erasing the line. "I guess it's all done, then."

"Well, the top is. You need to do the bottom shelf and the legs as well."

"You're kidding, aren't you? You really want me to dust that. No one's going to see it."

"Is that how you decide what needs dusting? If you can see it or not?"

"Well, yeah," Sam answered quickly. "Why are you going to spend time dusting something that doesn't even see the light of day?" He didn't bother to add in that he didn't, as a rule, dust.

Al took in a breath and let it out. "That explains it."

"Explains what?" Sam asked suspiciously. When Al didn't immediately answer he pressed, "What are you getting at. What does what explain?"

"Nothing, kid," Al said, avoiding Sam's eyes. "Just forget I said anything."

"No," Sam pressed. "I want to know what that means. What are you saying about me?"

"Well..." Al started, "...it's your place and you can live the way you want but your apartment needs some work."

"Is that why you never come over? Are you trying to say I'm a slob or something? Maybe you're just a neat freak. Did you ever think of that?" It insulted Sam that Al seemed to be knocking him down for not constantly cleaning. "Maybe I think there's things more important than dusting."

Al's eyebrows went up. He'd realized that he probably shouldn't have said anything, but the kid had asked him. He decided the neat freak dig was probably the kid's payback. "No, Sam. I'm not saying you're a slob, exactly, and I don't come over because you haven't asked me over except for a couple of football games. I came over then, if you recall."

"You don't have to wait for me to invite you. I've told you that. You're always welcome at my place."

Al looked serious. "I know but I don't generally drop in on people without their knowing I'm coming over."

"I'm just 'people?'" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought we'd gone beyond just being 'people' and were friends." To further get across his point he added, "You weren't prepared for me to spend the weekend with you but you didn't hesitate when my heat wasn't working. Why shouldn't you just drop by?"

Al rolled his eyes. "Would you stop being so sensitive? Yeah we're friends. But you're a person too, you know." He took in a breath and paused a beat. "As to this weekend...of course I offered you a place to stay. You're my friend and there was no way I was going to let you sit over at your place freezing when I had a perfectly good couch for you to use."

"Well, then, I'm a perfectly good host and I don't want you to wait for an invitation to drop by." He looked down feeling suddenly shy. "I've never had many people to invite over so I forget to do it sometimes. If you wait for me to remember, it might never happen."

Al watched as Sam's demeanor changed. From what he'd learned today, in addition to what he'd experienced since he and Sam had started hanging out, he figured that the kid was being honest. He probably had spent a significant time by himself. Now he was reaching out to him. With a gentle smile, Al answered. "Ok, Sam. I'll try to keep that in mind. It's hard for me to change my habits too, you know."

"Ok," Sam agreed, "I guess we can both work on changing." He looked at the table he'd been dusting then the duster in his hand. "So, does this mean I don't have to dust anymore?" he asked with a lopsided smile.

Al shook his head as he laughed. "Maybe I'd better take care of finishing the clean up. You can just mix the onion dip."

"Deal," Sam said as he tossed the duster at Al. He stopped halfway to the kitchen and looked back at the other man all wide-eyed innocence. "Uh, how do you mix onion dip?"

"You've got to be kidding me. You don't know how to make onion dip?"

"Gotcha," Sam said with grin. "Of course I do. It's a bachelor staple."

As Sam went into the kitchen to put the onion dip together, Al's soft laughter followed him. The two of them exchanged small talk over the bar that separated the two rooms while Al finished cleaning in the living room and Sam finished the dip and then made sandwiches for them to eat for lunch. When all was done, they had a couple of hours to relax before the party guest would start arriving.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

About two hours before the guests arrived, Al had put the novelty wreath on the door. He watched as Sam seemed distressed about it but also was impressed that the kid seemed unwilling to give him hell about it. He knew these angels wouldn't be staying but he didn't tell Sam that. Sam instead threw himself into the building of the luminarias out of the paper bags, sand, and candles after Al showed him how. As Sam built the luminarias, Al set them out on the low wall in front of his home and along the walkway. Once they were in place, he lit them and in the twilight, the soft glow seemed weak. He pointed out to Sam that as the evening darkened, the luminarias would provide a lighted path to his door.

Afterwards, Al put in a movie and he and Sam both got cleaned up. While Sam was in the shower, Al changed the wreath out and hid the buxom beauties in the hall closet before going back into his room to finish dressed. He had just finished pulling together his ensemble of black slacks, a red shirt, and a Christmas style vest and was attaching the flashing lighted pin when the doorbell rang. "Ok, let the fun begin," he said has he went to answer the door.

As Al answered the door, Sam walked out of the bathroom where he'd been getting dressed. "Oh boy," he muttered when he saw how Al was attired. With the red shirt and vest, he looked stylish and festive. By comparison, Sam - in a pair of neatly pressed jeans, white button down shirt, and dark green sweater - felt like he really had just come off the farm. He was tempted to retreat back into the bedroom but Al saw him and called him over.

"Hey Sam, come on over here. I want to introduce you to John and Kathy Esters."

"Um, hi," Sam greeted the couple as he walked over.

Al smiled and nodded to Sam as he said to his friend, "This is the friend I was telling about. You know, the new scientist up at the lab."

Sam shuffled slightly in embarrassment when he realized that Al had been telling people about him.

Kathy put her hand out. "The way we hear Al talk, you must be a whiz. Isn't that right, John?"

John nodded. "Yeah. Al says since you came on there, things have been a lot better."

"Um, no," Sam disagreed uncomfortable. "I just do my job, that's all."

"Don't know about that," John answered. "I know Al had been worried about things up there. All I know is he's more like his old self again."

Al grinned. "John and I go way back, Sam."

Sam was uncomfortable with the attention he was being given since he hadn't expected it. "I don't think I'm really responsible for how things are going," he reiterated. "I really just do what I have to to make sure my job's done well."

"Ok," John said. "Still it's good to have Bingo back."

"Bingo?" Sam questioned looking at Al quizzically. "Why do you call him Bingo?"

Kathy smiled. "I asked that once and John said it had something to do with something that happened between Al and triplets when they were first commissioned." She had a gleam in her eye as she added, "but I don't think I got the entire story."

"Oh, well, uh, that's ok. You don't have to tell me," Sam sputtered. He could almost guess where the name could come from and he didn't think it was something that needed to be discussed in polite company. "Can I get you something to drink?' he asked to give him an excuse to go to the other room.

Kathy nodded. "Sure. I'll come with you." She followed Sam into the kitchen as John and Al continued talking.

Sam filled two glasses with ice and put them down on the counter. "What would you like?" he asked indicating the bottles of soda. Almost apologetically he added, "There are only soft drinks."

Kathy smiled. "I know. That's all that Al's been drinking for awhile." She put her hand on his shoulder and said, keeping her voice low. "I know you had something to do with that."

"Not really," Sam said modestly. "He wanted to do it. I just helped him out where I could. He did all the work, though."

Smiling, she answered, "This isn't the first time that Al started to do that. This is the first time he's succeeded. I don't know about some of Al's other...'friends'...but we're glad he stuck with it this time." She looked away. "Up until two months ago, Al and John had stopped talking."

"Really?" Sam looked over the bar into the living room where Al and John were chatting like old friends. They didn't look like two men who had gone a long time without talking but he had to take Kathy's word for it. "Al's a great guy. He's a good friend."

"Yeah. He is. When he's sober. When he's not, he get's..." She shifted uncomfortably. "Anyways, we're just glad that he's better again."

Sam knew what Kathy was getting at. He'd witnessed Al drunk and knew he wasn't a very friendly drunk. He'd also been there when he was drying out and that hadn't been much better. Through it all, though, he'd seen the person Al really was trying to push through and that's what he'd concentrated on. "Yeah, me too." He opened the bottle of Sprite that Kathy had indicated both she and John would want and poured it into the two glasses. He handed one to her and took the other into the living room for John.

As Kathy and Sam rejoined the two men, the doorbell rang again. "Excuse me, but I have to get that," Al said.

The host went to the door and greeted a few of the people from the lab. Sam continued to help Al by seeing that everyone was given the drink of their choice. Whenever he told them that there were only soft drinks, every one of the people had nodded and several commented that it was good that Al had turned that corner.

The party had been going well with people mingling and Sam had started to feel more comfortable when the doorbell rang again. He glanced over to see who was at the door. When he saw Ron Dawson standing there, his breath caught slightly. He was the last person he thought he'd see tonight.

Dawson entered the room swaggering. "Hey Al."

Al smiled. "Hey, Ron. Where you been keeping yourself?"

"I've been around. I could say the same thing about you." Dawson carried a bag with him and the way his words slurred slightly, it was a good guess that he'd already had more than a little Christmas cheer before he got to the party. "I haven't seen you on a Friday night in a couple of months." He slapped Al on the arm. "I miss you, buddy."

Al gave the man a slight grin. Ron had been his main drinking buddy. For the last couple of years, he'd seen more of Ron than any of his other friends. "Yeah, I've missed you, too."

"I thought this was supposed to be a party?" Dawson questioned coming deeper into the room. "It sure doesn't look like the Al Calavicci parties I remember. Don't worry, buddy." He held up the bag he carried. "I've got what we need right here to make this a party and the girls should to be getting here any time."

From across the room, Sam watched Dawson warily. He didn't think the man had seen him yet. When he held up the bag, he knew what was in it and could only hope it was not a temptation that Al was going to give in to. He barely heard what Kathy Esters was saying to him.

"Sam?" The woman asked, seeing Al's newest friend's concentration pulled away. She turned to see what he was seeing. "Oh," she said simply, but her tone of voice showed she was not happy.

"What's he doing here?" The question was rhetorical. Sam didn't expect Kathy to have an answer. The night had gone so well up to now. He'd met friends of Al both from the lab and outside of the lab and he'd been enjoying himself getting to know them. Now, he felt like hiding out in Al's bedroom again until everyone, particularly Ron Dawson, had left.

Over the next hour, the tone of the room slowly changed. A few of the people who had come to the party earlier excused themselves while others arrived. About 30 minutes after Ron had arrived, the women he'd promised – a rather wild group – joined the festivities.

Sam moved across the room to where Al was talking with person he recognized from the lab although he wouldn't be able to say who it was. "Uh Al, don't you think things are getting a little out of hand?"

Al looked around. "It's just a party, Sam."

"It's not just a party. Not anymore. If I'd known this was what it was going to be like, I'd have taken a pass." He watched as Ron and one of his drinking buddies filled their glasses in the kitchen again. "I thought you said there'd be no liquor."

"I didn't provide it, Sam," Al pointed out. "Don't be such a choirboy." He looked around the room. "Things look fine to me." He took a sip of his cola.

The person that Al had been speaking with excused himself although neither of the other two men seemed to notice. "Things aren't fine. I thought you changed but I guess I was wrong. You may just be drinking that," he indicated the cup Al held, "but you're really just the same, aren't you?"

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Al asked in frustration. The party wasn't going quite the way he'd planned but he didn't think it was so bad he had to interfere. "I've stopped drinking. That has changed. I'm not going back. What do you want to do now, pick my friends for me?"

"No. I'm not going to pick your friends but that doesn't mean they have to be my friends or that I have to be where they are. I hope you have a great time but I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back when they're gone...if they ever leave."

A slight commotion started in the corner. One of the women that had arrived had tried to wrap herself around John Esters. He'd obviously been trying to dissuade her without success. "No more, John. I'll get a taxi if I have to but I'm leaving now," came Kathy's voice. She went to retrieve her coat.

"You see that," Sam said before he walked away. "You're gonna lose friends...good friends but I guess you've made your choice."

"Kathy's always been dramatic," Al said waving off any problems. "She'll calm down later."

John walked over to Al. "I thought you'd lost those losers, Al."

"They're harmless, John."

"No Al, they're not." He saw that Kathy had retrieved their coats. "Sorry, but we're not putting up with it anymore." Taking his wife's hand, they left without a goodbye.

Sam looked around the room not liking what he was seeing. "On second thought, I'm not going for a walk. I'm just gonna get my stuff and go home. I'll walk. It'll be better than being here."

Al took a breath. "Come on, Sam. It's just a party. I didn't think you'd be so prudish."

"Prudish?" Sam asked, his voice getting louder. "I'm not being prudish." He watched the drunken men and women for a second. "This isn't a party. This is turning into some kind of drunken orgy and I won't have any part of it."

Al rolled his eyes. "Fine, Sam. I'll get them to stop. Will that work?"

As Al moved towards the group, one of the women who wasn't doing well with her balance fell into a bookshelf. A homemade ceramic Santa Clause was knocked off the shelf and fell to the tile floor, breaking into several pieces on impact. The woman's eyes at first widened as she looked down to see the damage she'd done. When she saw one of the large pieces, she brushed it off with the statement, "Oh. It's just some kid's thing. Nothing valuable."

When he saw the Santa fall, Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He'd made it for his mother his first year in Indian Guides. "Don't bother," he called out after Al. "I'm leaving." Maybe if he were lucky, he'd be able to catch John and Kathy outside and ask them for a ride home depending on where they parked. He started to gather up whatever belongings he had in the living room, putting the gifts he'd brought with him in a pile with the photo album.

While Sam was gathering his things, Dawson staggered over in his direction. "Well, well. Dr. Sham Beckett. I didn't know you were here." The way he said it made it clear that the mispronunciation of Sam' name had nothing to do with the fact that the man was moving ever closer to three sheets to the wind. As Dawson moved into Sam's space, he blocked the other man's way to the door. Moving by Al, he handed him a drink. "Here you go, Al. You've been a teetotaler long enough. If Sammy-boy is leaving you can stop with the 'clean and sober' bit."

Sam didn't care about the party or anything else that was happening that night when he saw Dawson hand Al the drink. Al had worked too hard and too long for Dawson to ruin it now. "Don't do it, Al." He saw the temptation on Al's face. If he was going to make sure his friend stayed sober, he'd have to force the issue. "Don't," he said again. "I swear, you drink that and that's it. I'll walk out that door and you'll never see me again. You drink that and we're not friends. We never were."

As Ron pushed the drink into Al's hands, the world seemed to become him and the libation. He didn't even hear Ron's' words as he looked at the drink in his hand. He found in some ways his anticipation of allowing the amber liquid to pass his lips akin to holding a beautiful woman in his arms and anticipating what would transpire. He'd been ready to take just one sip to feel the familiar heat trickle down his throat when Sam's voice broke in. Looking back and forth between Sam and the drink, his forehead creased as he weighed his options.

"I mean it, Al. You drink that and we're through."

Al gave Ron a long look, noting that the man was obviously well marinated. Realizing that was likely similar to what he looked like under the same conditions, he put the drink down on the bar. "I'm not drinking it, Sam. I told you, I'm through with that."

Ron reacted to the words with a vengeance, once more moving quickly toward Sam and pushing him back into the kitchen. He knocked the small pile out of Sam's hands and his voice took on a dangerous tone, "You know, I'm really getting sick of your clean and reverent bullshit. Why don't you just get your damned ass out of here like you said and just leave Al the hell alone."

"Why don't you. I think you've done enough damage already. He doesn't need you," Sam fired back.

Al was about to step in between the two men when he heard the sound of the door opening and peripherally saw John Esters walk into the room.

Al spoke out, "Ron, why don't you just..."

Ron was too far along to listen to reason. Putting his palm on Sam's chest, he pushed again. "So what's it going to be, Beckett? Do you leave or do I have to teach you another lesson. You obviously still can't put two and two together."

The last shove was enough for Sam to hit the refrigerator. The moment that Ron had pushed him had spurred something in the kid and things simultaneously moved in slow motion and lightning speed. Al found himself moving into the kitchen as Sam reversed the lesson that Dawson had planned to give him. As Sam pulled his fist back for another hit, Al grabbed his wrist and held it tight.

**********

When his back contacted the refrigerator, Sam's awareness of all that was going on around him faded away for a few moments. When it came back, Dawson was on the floor with a bloodied nose. His knee was firmly in his solar plexus and he had his fist pulled back to deliver another hit. The only thing that prevented him from delivering the blow was Al's hold on his wrist.

"Sam, it's ok. It's over," Al entreated, his words said with forced calmness. He could tell Sam was still feeling the intensity of the moment. "He's not going to hurt you again." Sam looked up at Al, bewildered by the position he found himself in. "It's ok," Al reassured him again. "C'mon, let him up."

Slowly Sam got up from where he pinned Dawson down and took a couple of unsteady steps away. He watched as Al leaned over, grabbed the man by the shirtfront and hauled him to his feet. He didn't seem at all intimidated that the man towered over him.

"Get the hell out of my home," Al snarled. "And don't bother showing up for work on Tuesday," He gave a little shake to the man. "You're done and you'll be lucky if criminal charges aren't filed." He let go of his ex-friend and shoved him in the direction of the door.

Ron grabbed a kitchen towel that was hanging next to the sink. Using it to stanch the blood flowing from his nose, he snarled back. "Criminal charges? Yeah, I think I might just do that," he said looking over at Sam, who was still breathing harder than usual due to the adrenaline in his system. "If you didn't notice, Al, I'm the injured party here." He turned to the people at the party. "You all saw it. He attacked me."

"That's not the way I saw it," John said stepping forward. "All I saw was Sam defending himself when you attacked him and I'll swear to that and I'm betting everyone else here will as well."

A rather small man in the back of the room stepped forward. "Yeah, Ron. He didn't do anything until you threatened him."

Ron glared at the two men, especially the last one. "Watch it George."

Al spoke again. "Get out, Ron. You were going to teach Sam a lesson in putting two and two together, but I was the one that got it. You're finished in this business. I promise you that. Now get out before I call the police and press charges."

A quiet had fallen over the party guests when Dawson first laid his hands on Sam. Now, everyone parted to let the man by so he could leave the apartment.

Al approached Sam who was staring as his tormentor left the apartment. "You ok, Kid?" he asked in genuine concern as he laid a gentle hand on Sam's arm. He could feel it trembling ever so slightly as the adrenaline rush faded away. He'd been shocked when Sam had broken the hold Dawson had on him, flipping him to the floor and probably broke the man's nose with one hit. Sam had said he could take care of himself but he hadn't quite expected this.

"I'm…I'm ok," Sam quietly responded. Although Dawson was gone, the party had not resumed yet and he could feel everyone's eyes on him. "Really, I'm ok," he reiterated with a small, half-smile. "Sorry to ruin the party."

A few of the people who had shown up after Ron had, obviously following him, glared at Sam but none of them said a word.

"You didn't ruin anything, Kid," Al quickly responded. "If anything, you set things right. Dawson asked for it. It was his fault, not yours. He asked for it and I'm sorry it got this far."

"I just couldn't let him do it again - not anymore."

Al put his hand on Sam's shoulder. He'd figured out during the altercation that Dawson was the reason behind Sam's bruising. "I know. Nozzles like him prey on people they think they can intimidate."

Al noticed that several of Ron's entourage had stated making an exit while other guests were talking quietly. Both trends were all right in his opinion and right now, his friend needed attention. He saw that Sam still looked a little shaky and unsure. Retrieving a glass from a cabinet, the older man turned to the sink, filled it with water, and handed it to Sam. "Here, have a drink of water." He pulled Sam around to the other side of the bar and pressed him down to sit on one of the stools there. "Drink that and let's get you calmed down."

Sam gratefully accepted the water and sipped at it. "Do you think I could go in your bedroom for a little while?" he quietly asked. He could still feel everyone's eyes on him. "I just need to be by myself for a little while."

"Yeah, sure Kid." Al was a little worried by the way Sam was reacting but he knew his younger friend didn't generally enjoy being the center of attention. While Sam made his way to the bedroom, he turned to everyone else. "Ok, people. This is supposed to be a party so let's have some fun."

As the bedroom door closed, Al caught one final glance of Sam's face and saw both bewilderment and gratitude on it.

John walked up to Al. "Is he going to be ok?"

Al looked at that now closed door. "I'm not sure. I hope so." He turned to John. "I just hope I haven't screwed too much up. I've been a real nozzle tonight. I should have seen Ron Dawson for what he was a long time ago."

John also looked at the now closed door. "I don't know Sam that well but he seems like a good guy. Maybe you just need to talk to him."

Al went over to the bookshelf and bent down to pick up the Santa Claus pieces, handling each gently, "Yeah, maybe." He retrieved another piece. "Why'd you come back, John?"

"Oh, Kathy forgot her scarf. I came in to get it for her." John watched as Al collected all the pieces of the broken decoration. "You want me to get a broom so you can clean that up?"

Al shook his head, "I'm going to try and fix it."

"Must really mean a lot to you if you're going to try to get that all together again."

Al looked at the broken pieces. "It does." A sad grin crossed his face. "Sam made this when he was a kid. When his apartment's heat went out and I offered him a place to stay, he suggested using decorations he had." Al looked around, realizing that more than Sam's physical presence graced his home now. At this point, everyplace he looked was more festive because of Sam's actions. He found that comforting somehow.

"I'd wondered about all the Christmas decorations. They didn't really seem your style." John picked up one of the bigger pieces that was under the bookshelf. "I hope you can get it back together for him."

"Yeah. Me too." Retrieving a plastic bag from a drawer in the kitchen, he put the pieces he'd found in it. "Hey, why don't you ask Kathy to come back? The night's still young and I promise I won't be a horse's ass anymore."

John looked at his watch tempted to stay but declined the offer. "It's getting late. Livvy and Pete are coming over with the baby for breakfast tomorrow so we need to be up early." He clapped Al lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll let Kathy know what happened and make sure she knows you're really not the horse's ass she thinks you still are."

Nodding, Al agreed, "Yeah, I bet she does." He took a breath. "At least let me see you to the door." John agreed and the two went to the front door. "I'm glad you came back, John. I know it wasn't for me, but…"

John put his hand on Al's bicep to let him know that things were ok again. He then turned serious. "What was that all about, though? It was like there was bad blood between them or something. Sam doesn't seem the type to have anything to do with people like Ron."

Al nodded. "He's not." He blew out a breath. "I've told you before, Ron works at the lab. He's been taking his anger out on Sam."

John's eyes widened. "Really? I wouldn't think he'd do that more than once. That was an awesome move Sam made."

"Tonight was the first time Sam's really stood up to him." At the surprise in John's face, he explained. "He was afraid that if he came forward, that things wouldn't go too well for him either."

John considered that. "Well, something needs to be done about Ron. You don't think there's any chance Sam will press charges? Just 'cause you stop him where you're working now, that doesn't mean he won't just do it somewhere else."

George, the man that had spoken up after John joined the two. "Sorry, I overheard that. If Sam doesn't press charges, I will." His head hung down a little. "I should have stepped forward a long time ago but I was afraid. Then Sam came along and Dawson left me alone. I'm not going to let him do it again."

Al looked at the man, "You George? How long has Dawson been doing this?"

The man shrugged, "Since after his 90 day evaluation. I guess he figured no one would fire him after that. The last couple of years have encouraged him, I think."

Al closed his eyes in private pain. "I guess I helped that along. I certainly didn't stop it." He reopened his eyes. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure the whistleblowers are protected George."

"I know you will, Al. I just wish I'd said something before this."

"You're doing something now."

Al patted him on the back. "I'll be right back. I want to check on Sam. Drive safe, John." He went to the bedroom. He hesitated only a moment before lightly knocking.

When he didn't receive an answer, he opened the door. The room was only lit by one small light on the dresser near the door. He saw the long form of Sam laid out on the bedspread. His head was turned slightly to the side and he had his arm up across his eyes. He didn't have any kind of reaction when Al stepped in the room. Deciding not to disturb his friend, Al turned and walked out to continue to play host.

**********

When Sam had first walked into the bedroom, he'd let out a long breath when the door closed separating him from the partygoers. On the other side, he could hear that once again the revelry was in full swing.

He slowly made his way over to the bed and put the glass of water down on the bedside table then retrieved his bag. Al had put it in here to get it out of the way. He unzipped it and after rummaging around in it, pulled out the pill bottle that contained his prescription strength pain relievers for migraines.

He'd felt the beginnings of one not long after he'd seen Dawson walk through the door. Now, after the confrontation, it was starting to pound. Other than the need to escape so many pairs of eyes trained on him, it was the motivating factor for him to escape from the party before it could get worse.

He swallowed one of the pills with the rest of the water then pulled off his shoes and stretched out on Al's bed. He promised himself that he'd only stay in the bedroom until the medicine started to work and then he'd go back out rejoin the party.

**********

It had been two hours since Sam had disappeared into his bedroom. Al had thought he'd come back out once he'd composed himself but that hadn't happened. Now the party was starting to wind down and people were heading for home.

He knocked lightly on the bedroom door again before opening it to retrieve the coats that had been left on his bed. He also wanted to let Sam know that people were leaving and give him a chance to say his goodbyes.

When he didn't hear any response to his knock, he pushed the door open slightly and looked in. He was surprised to still see Sam still stretched out....he was sure the kid hadn't move one iota since he last checked. Once Dawson had left, the party had started back up and Al figured Sam would join them again. Although it hadn't been quite as rowdy as it had been before, it still hadn't been quiet. He wasn't sure how Sam could sleep through it.

Noticing a pill bottle on the bedside table next to the water glass, Al walked over and picked it up reading the label on it. It was a prescription in Sam's name for Fiorinol and it indicated it was migraines. That was a little bit of information he didn't know about the kid. From the date on the label, the prescription had been filled recently but it looked like there were only a few of the pills missing. Probably the Fiorinol had allowed Sam to sleep through the noise of the party.

Not wanting to wake his friend if he was suffering from a migraine, Al quietly picked up the coats from the other side of the bed and brought them out to his departing guests. He said his goodbyes and soon everyone had left and he was alone in the apartment.

After everyone had left, Al made his way back to the bedroom. Sam had finally moved, rolling over to his side. At first, he was just going to get a blanket to cover the younger man with and let him sleep through the night. He decided, though, that Sam would probably be uncomfortable in jeans and a sweater all night. He'd have to wake him at least long enough for him to change.

He pulled Sam's sleeping clothes out of his bag and put them down on the foot of the bed before moving to the head of it. Gently, he shook Sam's shoulder and called out his name. It took a couple of calls before the younger man woke up.

"Gonna come back out to the party in a few minutes," Sam mumbled groggily as he looked around the room blearily.

"The party's over, Kid," Al informed him with a small chuckle. "You slept through it."

"Oh no," Sam breathed out. Slowly he sat up in the bed. Glancing over at the clock on the bedside table, he saw that quite a bit of time had gone by since he'd lain down. "I was going to come back out. I just…"

"You had a headache," Al finished for him as he held up the pill bottle. "It's ok, Kid. I wouldn't have woken you up now but I thought you'd be uncomfortable in the jeans all night." He pointed to where he'd left the small pile of clothes. "Why don't you get changed so you can go back to bed?"

"Ok," Sam agreed as he started to get up. "You probably want to go to bed too. I'll go out to the couch."

"No, you're sleeping here tonight, Kid. Just get changed."

Sam looked at Al, confusion in his eyes. He was still groggy from the medication he'd taken and just having woken up. "I'm sleeping with you?"

Al looked at the kid with amusement. "No Sam. You're going to take my bed and I'm going to take the couch."

"But this is your bed." He pulled his sweater off over his head momentarily getting tangled in it until he got his arms free. "I can't take your bed," he stated as he started to unbutton his shirt.

"You still have any of the headache symptoms?" Al asked.

"Maybe a little," Sam confessed as he pulled the sweatshirt on. "It'll go away."

"It'll go away faster if you have a comfortable place to lie down."

Sam looked longingly at the bed. He didn't want to force Al out to the couch but he had to admit, as comfortable as the couch had been, the bed was a lot more comfortable. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't offer unless I meant it."

"Ok." Sam finished changing while Al turned down the covers on the bed. When he was done, he got back into the bed. He was asleep again almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn't even bother to pull the covers up over his body.

Al shook his head at Sam's actions. The kid was definitely disoriented and obviously tired. He pulled the covers over the sleeping man. "Goodnight, Kid," he said gently before retrieving the bedding for the other room and moving to the living room.

Walking into the room, Al looked around. There was clean up to do but something even more important was his first thought. He went into the kitchen and retrieved the superglue in one of the drawers before getting the bag with the broken Santa Claus. Over the next two hours, he did his best to repair the figurine. The final result wasn't perfect, of course, but at least it would look ok unless someone picked it up to examine it. Feeling he'd done what he could, he put the jolly elf on the breakfast bar and made up the couch.

Crawling into his makeshift bed, he figured that he and Sam would have a significant discussion the next morning over how things had transpired. Although he knew there was nothing he could do until the next day, he found himself tossing and turning as his sleep was troubled by surreal images ranging from broken Santa Clauses to whiskey bottles in the shape of beautiful women beckoning him to return to them. Close to dawn, he finally fell into an exhausted unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

When Al opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that the room was filled with light. Not the light of early morning, but full middle of the afternoon sunshine. He sat up, looking around at the room that still showed signs of the previous evening's festivities. He was surprised that there was no sign of Sam and a fear that the younger man had left quickly engulfed him.

Getting up, he put his robe on and walked towards the bedroom. The door was closed so he hoped against hope that it meant the kid was still there. Considering that Sam was used to getting up early, he figured that was unlikely. _No_, he chastised himself, _I've probably screwed up the best friendship I've had in quite sometime._ "You're a nozzle, Calavicci. A real nozzle." He knocked lightly on the door, expecting no answer.

*******************

Sam had been awake for a little over an hour when he heard the light knocking on the door. Usually he was an early riser but when he had a migraine and took the medication he was prescribed, he tended to sleep longer.

He only had fuzzy memories of last night after he'd taken the pill. He thought he remembered Al coming in and telling him to change. Since he didn't have on the sweater and jeans he'd been wearing, that was probably true. He also remembered the older man insisting he take the bed instead of the couch.

Although those memories were fuzzy, he had crystal clear memories of the rest of the night. Particularly, he remembered his run-in with Ron Dawson. It was his embarrassment over the altercation that had initially kept him in the bedroom. He just wasn't sure how he was going to face Al after what had happened.

"Come in," he called when he heard the knocking. He pushed himself up to sit and watched as the door swung slowly open.

*******************

Amazed he'd received an answer, Al pushed the door open. He walked in not at all sure what the reception would be. "Um. Good morning, Sam. That headache must have been a real doozy to keep you asleep this long."

Sam carefully nodded his head. Although the headache was gone, he still felt a little fuzzy and knew that right now it wouldn't take a lot to trigger another one. "That usually happens when I get a migraine. It's the medicine that does it. I'm not good if I take it and I'm not good if I don't." He shrugged slightly. "I guess it's a lose-lose thing." He chewed on his bottom lip for just a second. "I'm sorry about the party. I did mean to come back out."

"Yeah. Well, it was a lot better after Ron and his group left, that's for sure." Afraid that Sam would take that as criticism that he didn't reappear, he added, "but I totally understand. My second...um, no...fourth wife used to get migraines."

"I've gotten them on and off since I was an intern," Sam explained ignoring Al's comment about Dawson. Right now, he just wasn't ready to deal with any of that yet.

"Intern?" Al asked and then his comprehension dawned. "Oh. From when you were a med student. Gotcha. How long has that been?"

Sam squinted his eyes slightly and looked up at the ceiling as he counted back over the years. "About 8 years or so. It's one of the reasons I decided not to practice medicine."

"Yeah. I can see how that could be a problem." Al bit the inside of his lip. Deciding it was time to face the music he started, "About last night, Kid..."

Holding up a hand to stop Al, Sam said, "Not now. It's Christmas morning. Let's not dredge that up now, ok?"

Al took a deep breath and continued anyways. "I just wanted you to know that I'm really sorry. I was an A-number-one horse's ass and I just want you to know, that'll never happen again."

"Well, you were a horse's ass," Sam agreed. "I accept your apology. I know it was the people and that's not who you really are. Maybe I should have said something when you first asked me." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know you want to talk about what happened and we probably should but...it is Christmas morning." He smiled at Al a little crookedly. "I know Santa left something for you. Don't you want to see what?"

Al listened to what Sam was saying. They might have more to deal with down the road, but for now, he was just happy that the kid was willing to stay around. He took that as a good sign. Plus, he knew that anything 'Santa' had left had to come from Sam. Unless he'd brought coal with him, it sounded as if he was willing to put the previous night behind them. Smiling back, Al responded, "Yeah, Sam. Sure. Merry Christmas, Kid."

"Merry Christmas, Al," Sam responded back. It felt good to have someone to wish the sentiment to on Christmas morning. When he'd made the decision not to spend the holiday with his family in Hawaii, he'd been saddened to realize that that meant he'd be alone on Christmas morning. That wasn't the case anymore. Al may not be his family but he was a friend - a good friend - and Sam could see a time when maybe they would feel like family. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. "Well, let's go see what Santa left," he said eagerly.

Al hesitated a moment. "Um, I need to get something first, Sam. You go on out. I'll be there in a minute."

"Ok," Sam agreed although he was curious. "You sure you don't need help with anything?"

"Nope. You'll see it soon enough."

"Ok," the younger man agreed with a small pout. He left the room but came to an abrupt stop when he saw the object sitting on the breakfast bar. His Santa had been repaired and was whole once more. Hurrying over, he picked it up and gently ran his fingers over it. On closer inspection, he could see and feel where the pieces been glued together but it was easy to see it had been done carefully to minimize the appearance of the damage. "He's fixed," he blurted out.

Al had seen the kid stop and then walk into the room quickly. He waited to go into the closet to get the items he had prepared and instead watched as Sam went to the Santa Claus he'd fixed the night before. "Yeah. I know nothing can put it back together like it was. I did my best with it. I know it's not enough."

"Not enough?" Sam spun around so he could see Al where he was standing in the bedroom door. "This is...I don't know what to say. Most people would have just thrown the pieces out not put it back together again." Once more, he inspected the figurine seeing how all of the pieces had been fit together so carefully. This must have taken you hours to get back together."

Al shrugged with a small grin, "I did it before I went to bed last night." He nodded around the apartment. "It's why things are still so messy. Fixing your Santa was more important."

"Thank you," Sam breathed out softly. "It may not look like much but this means a lot to me. Every year after I made it, we'd always put him on the kitchen table on Christmas Eve with the milk and cookies for Santa. It was a tradition even after we were all old enough not to believe in Santa."

Al's eyes softened. "That's a nice tradition, Kid. I'm glad St. Nick was able to stand his vigil."

"Yeah, I guess he did, didn't he?" Sam looked carefully at the figurine, made a decision, and held it out to Al. "Here, I want you to have him. That way, no matter what, you'll always have something of Christmas that belongs to you."

"You want me to keep him?" Confusion flowed from the older man as he reached out to take the figure that had played such an important part of his new friend's life.

"Yeah, I do. It's time Santa looked after someone else."

Blinking, the older man took the figure as if it were made of gossamer. "Thanks, Kid. He'll always have a place of honor."

"Just make sure he gets some cookies every year," Sam advised with a grin that melted into a serious look. "You're my friend, Al, and I want you to have something that's a part of me. Mom and Dad always told us Christmas was about giving to others but that it should be a gift from the heart, not just something material." The grin once more lit his face. "Besides, you're coming with me to Hawaii for Christmas next year. You'll have to bring Santa to look over the cookies Joanna and Tommy leave."

Al was stunned by the announcement from his young friend. He didn't know what to say. Rather, he moved over to the bookshelf from where the Santa had fallen the night before. "I'm going to put him back here for now." He then turned back to the bedroom. "I'll be right out, Sam." He closed the door behind him and took a moment to think about what had just transpired. With a lump in his throat, he went to his walk in closet and retrieved three festively wrapped packages.

Balancing the three packages, Al was about to walk out when he remembered a hat in the back of his closet. He put the packages on the bed and grabbed the 'Santa' cap that he'd bought a few years before for a Christmas party. Putting it on, he retrieved the gifts and exited his room with a "Ho, Ho, Ho! Merry Christmas!"

Sam was standing at the bookshelf, his face a study of concentration when Al came back. He didn't understand why Al had beat such a hasty retreat and wondered if extending the invitation to spend the holidays with his family next year had somehow been stepping over a boundary he wasn't aware of. The picture of Al in the Santa cap carrying the gifts didn't make much impression on him. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?" he asked in concern.

"What?" Al asked, the happy Santa look being replaced by confusion on his face. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. I mentioned you spending Christmas with my family next year and you walked away without saying anything about it." Sam looked down at the floor feeling shy all of a sudden. "Maybe I shouldn't have said it. I just figured...well...you don't have any family of your own so you might like it. It's ok, though. Sometimes I forget we haven't known each other that long so it was probably inappropriate. It's just that sometimes...sometimes," he took a deep breath and tried to order his thoughts to find the right word. "Well, sometimes it just feels like we've been friends my whole life so...well...it just seemed right," he finished lamely.

Al put down the gifts he was carrying and walked over to Sam. He put his hand on his shoulder. "Oh Sam, no. I was just overwhelmed by it. I mean, after last night, I wasn't sure you would want to keep our friendship at the level it was much less invite me further into your life like that."

"Last night was bad," Sam conceded. "I said things to you that I probably shouldn't have and I'm sorry. I hope you can accept my apology. It just wasn't what I was used to on Christmas eve and when Dawson showed up, that just compounded things. It doesn't mean I should have doubted you or our friendship. I told you, I haven't had a lot of good, close friends. I value our friendship and I hope I haven't done anything to jeopardize it."

"No way, Kid. If anything, you made me face up to what I needed to see. You've been a better friend since we've met then many I've known for years. I don't accept your apology because you don't need to offer one. As to Dawson..." Al's face turned hard, "that nozzle's going to have the entire lab on his ass. George's testimony will ensure that."

"George's testimony? I don't follow. Who's George and what's he got to do with this?" He'd known that eventually Dawson, the events of last night, and the events of the last few months would have to be discussed. It looked like it wasn't going to get put off as long as he'd hoped.

"George Myers. He's one of the scientists on a parallel project. Apparently, Dawson had been doing the same thing to him that he was doing to you. When you showed up, Dawson left George alone, so he just decided not to rock the boat. After last night, though, when Ron was talking smack about pressing criminal charges against you, George stepped forward. John Esters also said that he'd testify in your behalf as did half the people there."

Sam walked slowly to the couch and dropped down to it. "Really? They all said that? I...I didn't think anyone liked me much. No one's ever gone out of their way to talk to me. Really?" he asked again not sure he was understanding.

Watching Sam react to the information, the older man was taken by the shear disbelief that Sam was exhibiting. "Yeah, Sam. They did. I think maybe Dawson had a lot of people cowed and your standing up to him was what was needed. When they saw he didn't need to be feared, they stepped forward."

"But I hit him," Sam said in disbelief. "I hit him and that was wrong...just as wrong as what he'd done to me. Don't they realize that?"

"You hit him because he cornered you. It was self defense, Sam. That wasn't wrong." Al paused as he gathered his thoughts for a moment. "I think sometimes people have to see someone standing up to something wrong before they can do what's right. I know I saw that during the civil rights movement. When Rosa Parks refused to sit in the back of the bus, thousands found that a rallying point. Some would have said she was wrong since she was breaking the law but the reality was, she just stood up to a bigger wrong. What you did last night wasn't that grand, but it had the same effect."

Sam wasn't sure how the Civil Right Movement fit into what had happened and ignored it - for now. It sounded like there was a story there and he'd have to get it out of Al later. "You don't understand, Al. I could have killed him. Whether I was standing up to something wrong or not, I could have killed him and that's a plain and simple fact. I didn't even realize what I was doing until after the fact. What if I'd done more than just broken his nose?"

"But you didn't, Sam. I don't know if you could or not. I mean, it's obvious you had the training to do it. Last time I saw those kind of moves was in Special Forces back in 'Nam. You just don't seem the type to take something far enough to kill someone."

"I could," Sam said forcefully. "I have black belts in several different martial arts. I could have killed him. For those couple of seconds, I didn't even know what I was doing. The only thing I remember is hitting the refrigerator and then I was on the floor ready to hit him again. I would have if you hadn't stopped me."

Al shook his head. "I don't think so, Kid. I know you feel that way, but I don't think you'd have killed him. Hurt him a little more, maybe - not that he didn't deserve that."

"No one ever deserves to be hurt," Sam said forcefully. "Not me, not Dawson, not anyone. I'm no more right than he was. I should have done what you said. When it first started happening, I should have reported it. I should have told you or Dr. Perkins. I shouldn't have let it get this far. Dawson's not the only one to blame. I bear some of the responsibility as well."

Al thought about what Sam was saying, disagreeing with his premise and seeing that the Kid's internal moral code was being tested. Deciding it was up to Sam to make his peace with it he told him, "Well, nothing can be done about the past. All you can do is take that into the future. But I disagree with you on that point, Sam. Sometimes a good right cross is the only thing that makes people wake up and smell the coffee."

"I guess we'll agree to disagree." Sam thought about what had originally started the conversation. "So, are you going to come with me next year or not?"

"Yeah, Kid. I'd be honored to be a part of your family's celebration"

"Then it's settled. Besides, I don't think Tommy would take no for answer as soon as he finds out you were in space."

"So...now that we've settled that, can we open presents?" Al said with the anticipation of a small child.

"Yeah, just let me get them." Sam went to where he'd put the small pile of gifts he had brought. There were four boxes of varying size. Three were gifts his family had sent to him that he'd waited to open and one was for Al. Putting the three from his family aside, he held Al's gift out to him. "I wanted to do more but," Sam shrugged embarrassed, "money was a little tight this year. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will, Kid." Before he opened it, he handed Sam a wrapped box. "Here you go."

Sam accepted the gift and eagerly unwrapped it. When he saw what it was, he gamely tried to look like he really liked it. "A cook book," he said brightly. "I needed one of these. I don't have any. Thanks!"

He nodded to the book. "I figured you didn't have one when we were talking about cooking the other day." Al started to unwrap the gift Sam had given him. When he opened it, he found a rather nondescript light blue sweater. It was obviously hand knit. "You made this? Maybe that other degree was in Home Economics." Al said looking confused. It wasn't really what he would choose for himself but it was good quality.

"No, not me," Sam answered with a light laugh. "My neighbor, Mrs. Simmons, did. She said she knits them every year for the bazare at her church. I wanted to help out and I thought you'd really like it." Some of his enthusiasm for the gift faded when he saw the look of confusion on Al's face. "I guess it's not really your style."

Now that he understood, Al smiled. "No, Sam. This is great. Just what I need when I go skiing

"Are you sure?" Sam asked putting out his hand to take the sweater back if it wasn't what Al wanted. "It's ok if you don't like it. I can...uh..." He wasn't sure what he could really do. He couldn't exactly take it back where he'd bought it. Even if that were acceptable, there was no way he could look Mrs. Simmons in the face and ask for his money back. He couldn't fit in the sweater himself, either, since Al was a little smaller than he was. Still, if it weren't something his friend liked, he'd do what he could to get him something he did like.

Al pushed Sam's hand away. "I'm sure. It's great, Sam." He reached over and pulled out another box. "Here another one for you, Kid."

"But, you already gave me something." Sam brushed his hand over the cookbook. "That's all I got you."

"I know, Kid. But in comparison, the book is just minor. Sort of something I figured you might need. This is more just for you."

"Ok." Sam unwrapped the gift slowly this time. Under the wrapping paper was a plain, white box and carefully opened that as well and folded the tissue paper back. Inside was a wooden picture frame with places for two pictures. He took the frame out of the box to see it better. "This is beautiful, Al. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Figured that Tommy and Joanna will look good in that."

Sam had to swallow the lump he suddenly felt in his throat. It was only two days ago that he'd told him friend about his niece and nephew and in that time, he'd thought to get him a gift that would highlight that. "Yeah, they will," he choked out. "It's a lot better than those plastic frames I was using."

Finally, Al picked up the smallest box. He handed it to Sam. "Don't say it, Kid. I know, you gave me the sweater and you think this is too much but to be honest, this is something I really want to give you."

"No, Al. It is too much," Sam argued despite Al's admonition not too. "This is all too much. I can't take that as well."

"Please open it, Sam." Al's eyes showed how much this meant to him.

"But I don't have anything else for you," Sam weakly countered. Seeing how much Al wanted him to open the gift, Sam complied. "Oh no," he said once he'd unwrapped and opened the box. "This really is too much. I can't accept this." He handed the box containing a hundred dollar bill back to his friend. "Please don't ask me to take this."

Al looked into Sam's eyes and knew he had one chance to have the kid understand his gift. "You told me the other day that your father had given you the hundred dollar bill you carried in your wallet in case there was an emergency. I'm sure that through the years that money could have been spent on all sorts of situations that would classify to most people as emergencies. You never spent it. It meant something more. Now, I know nothing can replace it and I'm not trying to be your Dad or anything, but at least you can have this one in your wallet and maybe feel that you still have the one your father gave you."

"Oh," Sam said softly realizing that his friend understood what that money had meant to him. A hundred dollars or a single dollar, it would have meant the same thing. "As long as I had it, I knew there was someone I could count on. Even after Dad passed away, it still reminded me of that. That he was always with me even if I couldn't see him or talk to him anymore. No one I've ever told about that understood. Everyone else thought of it as just money but that's not what it was to me. It never was." He took the bill out of the box and folded it carefully in half then tore it along the crease.

Al watched Sam tearing the money, "Um, Sam..." he started to ask, concerned.

Sam held out half of the torn money to the older man. "You understand, Al, but I want you to be able to feel the same way as well. You keep this half and I'll keep the other. Then, no matter what, we'll always know there's someone else in the world we can count on."

Al took the half bill, almost feeling the wave of emotion coming off of Sam.. He hadn't expected this but somehow it felt right. "Yeah. That's good, Sam. That's real good."

Sam fingered his half of the bill then got up and went into the bedroom. He came back out with his wallet. Carefully folding the half bill, he slipped it behind the photos of his family where the one from his father had always been. "This is the best gift anyone's ever given me. It's not just the money; it's that I know you understand." He glanced down at the floor suddenly uncomfortable. "That doesn't happen much."

Al looked kindly on the younger man. "Maybe it's because most people don't bother to listen to more than the words. They need to read the eyes too.

"Yeah, the eyes." Quickly changing the subject, Sam looked up at Al. "You hungry? I could make those griddle cakes I was telling you about. I know we got up kinda of late for breakfast but we could still have them."

"Sure. That sounds great, Sam. Breakfast is a hit anytime." Al got up. "You think I can take a few minutes to get cleaned up while you get things ready?"

"Yeah, sure. Take your time and it'll be ready when you're done." As Al started to walk toward the bedroom to get his clothes for the day, Sam called after him. "Hey, thanks for letting me use your bed last night."

"You needed it a lot more than I did. Besides, I needed the light on to fix Santa. That wouldn't have been good with your migraine."

"Yeah. Still, it was really generous." Sam started to the kitchen. "Go on and take your shower and I'll get breakfast ready. I promise not to use all the dishes in your kitchen." He made the promise with a deadpan face.

Al was about to say something but looked around the apartment, still showing signs of the party the night before and shrugged. "Go to town, Kid. I have to clean up the place after breakfast anyways."

"I'll help you with that." Seeing the dubious look his offer garnered, Sam added, "Just 'cause I'm not a neat freak like you doesn't mean I can't help you clean it up."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to keep things neat, Sam. There's a reason why that's called 'shipshape.' He then turned and went in to take his shower.

"Yeah, yeah. Shipshape," Sam mumbled as the Al disappeared into the room. He gathered the ingredients he'd need forth griddlecakes and started to combine them and mix them but found that the bowl he'd pulled out was too small. He got another one from the cabinet to put the mix in instead. As he transferred it, some splashed out on the counter. _It'll just go with the flour_, he thought. He was just going to start ladling the mix when the phone rang. Since Al was in the shower, he'd have to answer it.

"Calavicci residence," he said. He was surprised to hear a familiar voice on the other end. "Mom? Merry Christmas, Mom!"

After talking with his mother for a few minutes, the phone was commandeered by first Tommy then Joanna as they excitedly told him what they'd gotten from Santa. Finally, Katie was able to get on the phone with him. After first wishing him a merry Christmas, she started berating him for the gifts he'd sent for the kids. "But I wanted them to have those things," he defended himself. "I don't care if they think it's from Santa or me, as long as they're happy."

The door to the bedroom opened and Al exited dressed in a rather eclectic choice of clothing. He was wearing a pair of forest green slacks, a white French cuff shirt with gold cufflinks, and a black vest with red and green squiggles worked into it. He wondered who the kid was talking to. He took a look at the kitchen and shook his head. The kid definitely didn't understand the concept of cleaning up as you went along. He glanced over to Sam and almost laughed as he saw the flour on the kid's face.

Sam noticed Al walk out of the bedroom and raised a hand to acknowledge him then his attention was diverted back to the phone. "No, Katie, don't you dare tell them I bought that stuff. You do that and you'll ruin Santa for them. I told you, I don't care if they know or not. They know I sent them the pajamas so it's not like they think I forgot them."

Realizing that Sam was talking with his family, Al went into the living room and started to gather up the glasses and other dishes left out from the night before.

Sam listened again to his sister on the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm sure. Just tell me they were happy." A grin broke out on his face as he was given an answer in the positive. "I'm glad. Tell them I loved the photo album they sent me." There was another brief silence as Katie spoke again. "Oh, geez, no. I completely forgot to open that stuff. I'll tell you what; I'll open it and give you a call back later this afternoon." He noticed Al collecting the dirty cups from the previous night. "We're just cleaning up from last night and eating. I bet Mom's almost done with the French toast, too. I love you guys." The call ended shortly after and Sam hung up the phone. "That was my family," he explained needlessly.

"I figured, Kid. Sounds like the kids had a good Christmas."

"Yeah, they sure did. Joanna got the one gift from Santa that she really, really wanted. Katie wanted to tell her I was the one that sent it." Sam joined Al in the living room collecting the dirty dishes and cups forgetting that the griddlecakes still weren't cooked.

"And just was that?" Al asked curiously. Not knowing many eight year olds, he had no idea what would be a most wanted gift.

"She wanted one of those knew dolls. You know, the Cabbage Patch ones. Katie tried but couldn't find one anywhere."

Although he wasn't really up on children's toys, Al had heard about the craze of the Cabbage Patch Kids on the news. In his opinion, they were on the homely side but they seemed to be what every little girl was wishing for this year. There had been news stories aplenty about how the supply just wasn't meeting the demand and how people would stand in lines for hours trying to get one. "How'd you manage to get one of those, Sam? I thought they were scarce."

"I found out the toy store in town was getting shipment of them in the day after Thanksgiving so I just made sure I was there in time to get one." Sam smiled proudly as he announced, "I got the last one they had."

Al shook his head in wonder. He'd seen the lines at that toy store on the news. If he recalled, people had been in line overnight to get the sought-after toy. Ordinarily, he'd probably have called Sam crazy for doing something like that but in the last few days he'd learned the depth of caring the younger man had for his niece and nephew. It wasn't craziness that had him in that line. It was love.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Sam asked as he handed Al a stack of cups he'd picked up.

"No, Sam, I don't think you're crazy at all. Just very, very devoted." Al took the dishes he'd collected into the kitchen and looked at the bowl of batter and the griddle that had been greased but not heated. "You going to leave this here as a still life or something?"

"Huh? Oh boy." Sam rushed back to the kitchen so he could finish their brunch. "I guess I sort of forgot when I got on the phone." He started to heat up the griddle. "You should have heard them, Al. They were so excited. I wish I'd been there to see them." As the griddle heated, he started to ladle the batter on it. "I forgot to open the gifts Mom and Katie sent me. I have to do that after we eat."

"Sure." Al went back into the other room and continued straightening up with a practiced ease. As he brought the next set of dishes into the room, he told Sam, "Those smell yumola."

"Thanks. It's Mom's recipe." Sam took the cooked griddlecakes off and ladled more batter on. "I bet you didn't think I could make 'em, did you?"

"I have to admit, I wasn't quite sure."

"Show's you how much you know." Sam held out the plate with the hot griddlecakes. "You want to get started on these while they're hot?"

Al took the plate to the breakfast bar which Sam had set with butter, syrup and forks. He sat down and fixed up his breakfast. He took a bite and smiled. "These are really good, Sam."

Sam smiled at the praise. When then next batch was done, he put them on a plate and brought them over to the breakfast bar. "I knew you'd like them. No one can resist Ma Beckett's griddle cakes." He went back to the stove to make the last batch.

"Hey, aren't you going to eat?"

"Yeah. I just want to finish these up so I can turn the stove off. I'll eat in a few minutes."

"I can do that, Sam," Al started before being told by Sam it wasn't necessary.

"No, you eat. These are almost done." Sam expertly flipped one of the griddlecakes so the other side could cook.

"Nice move Kid. You'd make a good short order cook."

"Maybe I should have tried that instead," Sam said thinking about his failed waiter job.

Al smiled. He'd taken a couple of more pancakes and fixed them up. "I was thinking that we could just take it easy today. You know, watch a movie or something like that."

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam finished the last batch and brought them over to the bar. "I had been thinking about going down to the homeless shelter and helping them with dinner but I think it's too late for that now."

"Yeah." Al pondered that. "Sorry I got up so late. I was pretty tired. I don't think I dropped off completely until close to dawn."

"You were probably uncomfortable 'cause it wasn't your bed," Sam said as he buttered his griddlecakes and poured syrup on them. "You shouldn't have slept on the couch. I would have been fine on it."

"It wasn't that, Sam. I was everything from last night. I can't believe I ever called that nozzle a friend."

"You made a mistake. We all make mistakes." Sam wanted to be sure that Al knew he didn't hold him responsible for anything that had happened. "When you were drinking, he probably seemed like a good friend."

"I guess," said Al. "Time was, though, that I was a better judge of people. I guess I just didn't see his true colors. I'm glad that George is coming forward."

"If George is coming forward," Sam began hesitantly, "that means I don't have to say anything, right?"

Al was silent for a moment, trying to read more into Sam's words. "The case would be stronger if we had more victims coming forward. In addition, we could get pictures of some of the damage he's done. That bruise on your back is pretty telling and I'm sure you have another one after last night." He took a breath. "How many times did he hurt you, Sam?"

"Pictures? Uh uh, no way. I'm not going to be some kind of...of exhibit. You can forget about that."

"Like I said it would be make the case stronger."

"No. You want me to make a report, ok, I'll do that. I don't want to, but I will but you're not taking pictures." Sam angrily stabbed the food on his plate and shoved it in his mouth. "Besides, what's it going to prove," he said with his mouth full. "You can't prove he caused them and it's not like you make the others magically appear."

"I saw a least some of them, Sam. You had that bruise on your right forearm, the bruise on your jaw, that black eye..." he said recounting the injuries that Sam had suffered over the past few months.

"Not the black eye." Sam looked down at his plate sheepishly. "Dawson had nothing to do with that. The door on the medicine cabinet was stuck. When it came loose, the corner hit me right below the eye."

Al's eyes widened, "You did that to yourself. Damn, that cabinet must have been really stuck."

"Yeah, well, I think it was painted shut. It had been like that since I moved in and I was trying to get it to finally open." He fingered just below his eye where the door had struck him remembering it. "I thought I lost my eye when it first happened and then when everyone asked me what happened, I'd have had better luck if I lied about it since no one believed me."

"Well, that still leaves a number of injuries that were witnessed. I can testify to those."

"And that's not going to get you in trouble?" Sam asked defiantly. "Won't someone question why you waited so long to do anything? If you want me to do this, I need to do it my way. I need to have some dignity left when this is all done and that's not going to happen if you're taking pictures."

Al took a deep breath and let it out in acquisition. "Yeah. We'll do it anyway you feel comfortable about it, Sam. I just don't want Dawson getting away with his actions. I've seen enough bastards like him in my life."

"He won't, Al. I don't know how I know, but he won't and even if he does..." Sam paused a moment, his eyes growing hard, "He won't hurt me again. I won't let him."

"Yeah, but it's not just you, Sam. God only knows how many people he's done this to. It's got to stop now."

"I know and I'm going to do what I can to stop him but I still need to think about me and my family - how this will affect them. I don't want him to hurt anyone else but you can hurt someone without using a fist too."

"Yeah, Sam. I know that." Al got up and put the plate and cup in the sink. Walking into the living room, he pulled a cigar out of the box on a side table. Preparing it, he lit it. "Ok, Sam. We'll play it your way. I promise I won't push you any harder on this."

"Thanks." Sam finished his meal and also put his cup and plate in the sink. He looked between it and Al. "If I cooked, does that mean you have to clean up?"

Al chuckled. "Sure, Kid. I'll clean up. It'll probably be faster that way anyways."

"Great. I'm gonna open the rest of my Christmas gifts." While Al cleaned up the rather large mess he'd made while making breakfast, Sam went into the living room and sat on the couch with the three gifts. The first one he opened was from his mother. She'd sent him a hand-knit sweater in a deep shade of green. He knew as soon as he saw it that it was his mother's handiwork. From Katie there were a couple of novels that he'd wanted to read for a while. The last box was from his niece and nephew. "Oh, hey, look at this," he called out when he opened it. He pulled out the sweatshirt that was inside and shook it out so Al could see. A photo of the two children was on the front of it. "Katie must have had it done at one of those places in the malls." Below the picture was written, 'We love Uncle Sammy."

"That's nice, Kid. They're lucky to have you."

"No," Sam disagreed. "I'm lucky to have them. Spending time with them, it makes me want kids of my own. Through the whole mess Katie was in with Chuck, the kids always found a way to make her smile. That's something special."

"Yeah, kid's are special. There are times I wish I'd had children."

Sam folded the sweatshirt up carefully and put it back in the box. "Why don't you?" he asked curiously. "I'd think with the number of times you've been married you might have at least one or two."

"Well, back with my first wife we decided it wouldn't be fair to drag children from place to place and later...well it just never seemed the right time." Al had often wondered if he and Beth had had children, whether she would have had him declared dead.

"That's too bad," Sam commented as he got up from the couch. "I've got a feeling you'd have made a great father." He moved in the direction of the bedroom where his bag still was. "I'm gonna go shower and get dressed. I'll give you hand cleaning the rest of this stuff up afterwards."

"Ok, kid. Thanks." Al watched Sam leave. He realized that he was old enough to be Sam's father. He smiled. If he'd had a son, he'd have liked him to be as great as his friend. He brushed the thought away and started to clean up the apartment.

"Hey, you're almost done," Sam said when he came back from taking his shower. All of the assorted dishes and cups that had been left in the living room were gone. "I said I'd help you." He opened the box with the sweatshirt from his niece and nephew and pulled it out to put on over the white t-shirt he had on. "Perfect fit," he said with a smile.

Al smiled. "Looks good, Kid. Don't worry; we have more than enough things to do."

The two spent a small part of the afternoon getting things back to Al's 'shipshape.' However, the lion's share was spent either preparing their meal, relaxing, or otherwise just enjoying each other's company. Nothing more of the preceding night's activities or the fall out from it was discussed. Both men turned in early knowing that the next day would put them back at work and the day-to-day activities they'd been away from during the holiday weekend.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The next morning, Al and Sam were at work a few minutes early. Al didn't see Dawson's car in the parking lot and assumed he'd followed his advice and hadn't shown up. It would be his first order of business to write up a report and briefed the lab management of the situation as it had transpired.

As they got out of the car, Al told Sam if he wanted to have lunch together to give him a call.

Just before they walked in the building, Sam put a hand on Al's arm stopping him. "What's going to happen?" he asked nervously. "Am I going to have to talk to someone else and tell them what happened?"

Seeing how worried Sam was, Al bit the inside of his lip. "I'll do what I can to prevent that, Kid. It's possible that George's testimony might be all that's necessary."

"But it might not?" Sam walked a few steps away from Al, thinking. When he turned back around, his face was resolute. "I don't want him to do it to anyone else. I'll make a report and talk to whoever's necessary."

Al nodded solemnly. From their conversations that weekend, Al knew how difficult of a decision this was for Sam. "Ok, Sam. I'll let you know what we need." Al knew that having the two men stepping forward would be optimal. However, he vowed he would do his best to assure than neither man had to pay too steep a price for doing the right thing. People like Dawson should take the fall.

"I just want to get it over with. You think we can do it now instead of waiting."

Al shook his head. "Let me report it first, Sam. The lab leadership has no idea of what's coming yet. After that, I'll let you and George in on how to proceed."

"So I have to wait? First you keep pressuring me to do something and now you're telling me I have to wait." Sam threw his arms up in exasperation. "I don't believe this, I really don't. What the hell do you want to do? Drive me crazy? Should I just march myself into Dr. Perkin's office and blurt out the whole sorry mess to her? Will that get it going faster?"

Al walked back over to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder. "Kid, listen to me. I know you want to do something but sometimes you have to wait until the right time. Walking into Dr. Perkins office right now isn't the right time. You'll just have a self-fulfilling prophecy of having the problems you were afraid of coming to pass." He paused a moment to allow Sam to consider that before continuing, "Please. Give me a chance to make sure that doesn't happen, ok?"

"I don't want to wait. I don't like waiting." Seeing there was no other choice, Sam took a deep breath. "Fine, but this time you get the ultimatum. You either do something by lunch or just forget the whole thing. I'll take care of it myself."

"Ok, Sam. By lunch," Al agreed. "Now go on in and find something to keep your mind off of this until I call you, ok?"

"Don't you mean find something to keep me out of trouble?" Sam asked. A small grin took the sting out of the question.

"Well, there's that," Al conceded with a face that said he was bantering back. "Seriously though, Kid, just take it easy for a bit, ok? This will all work out. Trust me on that."

"I trust you, Al," Sam said emphasizing the word 'you.' "I'm just not sure I trust that this will really work out for the best and Dawson's the only that's gonna pay." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess I shouldn't borrow that trouble before it shows up. Just call me when you need me."

"Ok, Sam." Al turned to the building where his office was as Sam walked towards his lab. He took a deep breath. This was going to take his best ability to spin the story. The head honchos were likely to wonder why Dawson had been able to get away with this for so long and why no one seemed to see the signs that it was happening. Walking into his office, he went to the personnel files to pull out the files of all the parties involved so that he could plan his strategy.

He looked at Dawson's first. Reading through it, he rubbed his chin. There were clues. Several complaints by coworkers but nothing that specifically pointed to what the problems were. Vague accusations were all that were found. Al found it interesting that supervisors had promoted Dawson and then approved transfers. Now that he knew what was going on, he understood that things might not have been as good as he'd thought when Dawson and he had been friends.

**********

Sam exited the elevator on the floor his office was on. He had a report he had to fill out based on some lab work he'd done last week. He figured that should keep him busy at least until lunch.

As he neared his office, he noticed someone waiting outside of it. Though the person's back was to him, he knew without a doubt that it was Dawson who was waiting. He was surprised that after what had happened at the party - and what was now a known fact - that he'd had the temerity to show up.

Common sense was screaming at Sam to turn around and walk the other way. There could be no good reason for Dawson to be waiting outside his door. Sam hadn't been known to be on good terms with common sense very often and kept walking down the corridor. "What do you want, Dawson?" he called out as he neared the man.

The larger man turned on Sam. "You little scumbag, what the hell do you think I want." He was somewhat unsteady and it was obvious to the most casual observer that the man was drunk.

"I don't know," Sam responded reasonably. He immediately identified the state Dawson was in and that it made him very dangerous. He also was aware of the fact that just over his shoulder in the corner was a security camera. Dawson had always been careful not to do anything in sight of the cameras. It looked like in his drunken state he wasn't being so careful. "Why would I ask you if I knew?"

Dawson moved closer to Sam. "You know. You have since you first got here. I heard people talking. You think you're such a bigshot. Al said you were some MIT professor's star student or something. You might think you've fooled everyone here but everyone knows you're just a fake."

"You think I'm a fake, Dawson? At least I don't drink my life away and then take it out on others because I haven't amounted to anything." Sam took a couple of steps closer. "You really want to see a fake? Go find a mirror and take a long hard look in it and you'll see the face of a fake."

Dawson's anger was stoked higher as Sam spoke to him. He reached back and pulled his hand into a fist, "You bastard! I'm going to take that smug look off your face." With that, the fist was aimed directly towards Sam's nose.

Sam saw the fist coming his way. He hadn't expected Dawson to be quite so coordinated considering his drunken state and he really hadn't expected him to mount this type of an attack in full view of the video camera. Consequently, he was slow in ducking out of the way and the punch connected. The force of it threw him back against the wall and he slid down it to land on his butt, blood flowing down his face. Despite that, he smiled up at Dawson. "You really screwed yourself this time."

"What do you mean, asswipe?" Dawson said a smile on his face at seeing the damage he'd inflicted.

"You forgot about the camera," Sam said pointing up at the object in question. "Security just saw you hit me. It's on videotape now. It doesn't matter if I make a report or anyone else. You're done here."

In his drunken state, Dawson didn't care that anything else he might do would be seen as well. Instead, he laid into Sam with a vengeance and the single-minded goal of doing as much damage as he could. "Then let me give them something to see."

Even if he'd wanted to fight back, the flurry of blows from Dawson came so fast, Sam didn't have the opportunity. Instead, he did his best to shield himself as much as possible. All the while, the bizarre thought that this was not what Al had in mind when he said to find a way to occupy his mind kept playing over and over in his mind.

Dawson continued to lambaste Sam with his fists and feet along with his foul words disparaging him. The elevator opened behind him and two security guards exited, grabbing Dawson. One of them called out, "Stop it! That's enough."

As they pulled him back, Dawson fought them. The one who hadn't spoken pulled out his baton and used it to subdue the outraged man. Once he was on the ground, they handcuffed him. Finally getting him under control, they called for backup. While one of the guards stayed with Dawson to keep an eye on him, the other went over to check Sam's injuries. Gently, the he asked, "Where are you hurt?"

"Hurts everywhere," Sam groaned. He relaxed slightly from the defensive ball he'd curled into. "Ribs really hurt." He wrapped his arms protectively around his chest.

The security guard nodded. "Ok. We'll get you some help, Dr. Beckett." He called into his radio asking for EMT's.

Sam nodded slightly. He was now fervently wishing that he'd just walked the other way when he saw Dawson. "Don't tell Admiral Calavicci," he requested. He had a feeling once his friend found out Ron Dawson would probably have to fear losing his life more than losing his job.

The guard didn't answer but just told Sam to stay calm. In what seemed longer than it was, the backup arrived to take Dawson away as the EMT's arrived as well. In short order the hallway emptied, Dawson going to the police station while Sam was taken to the hospital.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

After Al finally determined what his strategy was going to be based on his review of the files he called the program lead to set up an appointment. Right after doing so, he received a call from security that there had been an altercation that he would need to look into. As Al received more information, his stomach dropped as he learned that Ron Dawson was the perpetrator. It dropped further when he learned that Sam was the victim.

Kicking himself for allowing Ron to leave his apartment without calling the authorities, After confirming that Ron had been taken into custody he asked with trepidation where Sam was. Hearing he had been sent to the emergency room, he called the program lead back and cancelled the appointment before heading to the lab hospital which was not very far away..

Walking in a few minutes later, he went to the admitting nurse. "I'm Admiral Calavicci. I'm looking for Sam Beckett. Where is he being treated?"

She checked her records. "He's in a treatment room right now, Sir. If you take a seat, a doctor will be out soon." The nurse pointed Al in the direction of the waiting area.

"Just tell me one thing. Will he be ok?" Al would never forgive himself if his friend were permanently injured due to his incompetence.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the nurse said apologetically, "I really don't know the extent of his injuries." Again, she pointed to the waiting area. "I'm sure his doctor will be out soon."

Al nodded with a sigh. He moved to the waiting room and sat down. A second later though, he was up again, pacing the room. The other patients waiting tried to look elsewhere but they couldn't help occasionally glancing at the distraught man. Al, in his own world, didn't even see their glances.

Forty-five minutes after Al arrived at the hospital, a doctor came out from the treatment area. He stopped at the admitting desk and spoke to the nurse who waved him in the direction of the still pacing admiral. "Excuse me, Sir," he asked as he approached. "Are you here for a Samuel Beckett?"

Nodding, Al answered, noticing the name of the doctor on his nameplate. "Yes, Dr. Williams. I'm Albert Calavicci. How is he?"

"Well...Admiral," the doctor said having been informed of the man's name by the admitting nurse, "All in all, it could have been a lot worse than it is. He took quite a beating but, thankfully, there are no lasting injuries although he is going to be very sore for a while. The worst of it is two fractured ribs, a slight concussion and a fracture of the left wrist. Beyond that, he's got a lot of bruises."

"But nothing permanent?" Al asked. He was relieved but found himself feeling a need to confront Ron Dawson for his actions. That would have to wait. "Can I see Sam?"

"Certainly. He's still back in the treatment area. I'd like to keep him overnight for observation but he's rather adamant about going home." As he spoke, the doctor led the way back to the room Sam was in.

Al took a deep breath and pulled the curtain aside slightly. He was shocked at the kid's face. It was obvious that Dawson had landed several blows there. "Um...Sam... can I come in?"

"I guess," Sam responded trying to gauge how Al was taking this recent development. Seeing the doctor standing just behind his friend, he asked, "Do you have the paperwork so I can go home?"

"Mr. Beckett, I've explained that I'd like to keep..." the doctor started.

"And I've explained that I want to go home," Sam said in a clipped voice cutting the doctor off. "If you're not going to discharge me, I'll just check myself out AMA. Either way, I'm not staying."

"Sam? Maybe you should listen to him. I hate to say it, but you look like hell."

"Don't start, Al," Sam warned. "I'm not staying." He carefully sat up on the gurney, one arm wrapped around his chest. He bit off a groan when he did. "Where are my clothes?"

Al moved closer to Sam. "What's the big deal, Sam? You stay overnight and get some rest. They get to see that you're ok." He paused, seeing the stubborn look on his friend's face. "You're a doctor, right? If you had a patient that came in under the same circumstances, what would you do?"

"Don't pull that 'what would you do' crap on me. I'm not in the mood. I'm getting out of here and I don't want to argue about it." Sam looked over to the doctor again. "What's it gonna be doc? Are you gonna spring me or do I just walk out?"

The doctor sighed seeing his patient was not going to be convinced. "I'll get the paperwork and your prescriptions in order. Do you think you can wait that long?" Sam nodded indicating he'd wait and the doctor went back out the desk.

"It's not crap, Kid." Al sucked on his molar for a moment. "You're just a stubborn cuss."

"I'm my father's son," Sam mumbled. He looked around the small area he was in. "You see my clothes anywhere?"

Al noticed a pile of neatly folded clothes on a chair. He pointed to them. "They're over there."

Seeing the clothes where Al indicated, Sam made his way slowly over. Picking them up, he brought them back to the gurney so he could get dressed. As he leaned over to pull on his pants, a slight wave of dizziness came over him making him sway in place. "Ok, bad idea," he mumbled once he'd regained his balance. He went back over to the chair so he could sit down and get dressed.

Al watched as Sam swayed and started to move forward but Sam had caught himself and sat down. "Ok. That's it. What the hell happened, Sam? I saw you take care of yourself two days ago. What did Dawson do, jump you?"

"No, he didn't jump me. I just didn't expect him to be quite so coordinated and I wasn't going to get myself in trouble for fighting back. By the time I realized he wanted to take my head off, I couldn't do anything but try to cover up." As he explained, Sam pulled on his clothes. It was clumsy going because of the soft cast that was on his wrist. When he got his shirt on, he realized he couldn't do up the buttons because of his it. "Can you give me a hand?"

Al's eyes narrowed. "You allowed him to beat the shit out of you? Are you nuts? Now you want me to help you leave the hospital when it's obvious you should stay?"

"Al, please," was all Sam said as he looked up at his friend with wide, innocent eyes. "I just want to go home and forget about all this. Won't you help me?"

Al looked at Sam and caved. He moved over to him and started to button his shirt. "Ok, but I still think this is a bad idea."

As Al buttoned Sam's shirt, the doctor came back in with the paperwork needed for Sam to go home. "I don't suppose I can try one more time to convince you to stay over night?" Seeing the look on Sam's face, he knew he'd be wasting his breath. "At least stay with someone for the night," he suggested instead.

"He's staying with me," Al said. At the look on the Doctor's face, he continued. "His apartment's being painted. He's been a guest for the last few days."

"Very well." The doctor handed the papers to Sam. When he spoke, he addressed Al. "He'll need to be awakened every couple of hours to be sure that he's oriented and alert. If the slightest thing is off...the slightest thing...he needs to get back here immediately." He took in Sam with his look. "A head injury is not something to be fooled around with. I don't think this one is serious but you can't be too careful."

Al nodded. "I'll make sure he's watched like a hawk, Doctor. Nothing more is going to happen to Dr. Beckett. That's a promise."

"Very well." The doctor took both Sam and Al in with a glance. "You'll need to make an appointment to come back in within the next 2-3 days to have a cast put on your wrist once the swelling's gone down." He handed another sheet of paper of Al. "That's a prescription for codeine." He turned to Sam. "You can take it for pain but I don't want you to take any for the next 24 hours since it would make it difficult to distinguish if you're having any difficulties from the concussion. That also goes for the medication you have for migraines."

Sam leaned over to try to take the prescription from Al. "I can put that with the discharge instructions. I know not to take it right away."

Al looked between the doctor and Sam. He finally handed the prescription to the injured man. "Ok. We can fill it on the way home."

"You're sure I can't convince you to stay at least tonight," the doctor tried again.

"No. I want to go home Sam responded firmly." Now that he had his discharge papers, prescription, and was dressed, he was ready to leave. He got to his feet grateful that there was no dizziness this time. "Thank you, Doctor. C'mon, Al, let's get going."

Al gave a slight shrug towards the Doctor. To his friend he answered. "Yeah. Let me just go out first and bring the car up to the door."

"No. I can go with you," Sam countered. "I don't want to just wait here." He had an irrational feeling that if he did, he'd end up finding himself admitted for the night.

"You are stubborn, Dr. Beckett," the doctor commented. He'd caught Al's reference to the man. He wasn't surprised. There were a lot of doctors at Los Alamos. He put out his hand to Sam. "Take care of yourself. Make sure you get some rest and if you have any problems, get back here."

Al breathed a sigh. "Yeah. Until this week, I had no idea of how stubborn." He continued walking out with Sam. As they exited the hospital Al told his friend, "I'm parked over there," he nodded to a parking area about the middle of the lot.

"Ok, lead on." Sam followed behind Al. They were about halfway to where the car was parked when he stopped and leaned on a nearby car. "Hang on a second, Al."

Al stopped and turned, concern etched in his eyes. Sam's face had lost most of its color. "Ah, Sam. Let's get you back in there. The doctor's right. You shouldn't be leaving yet."

"No," Sam quickly responded. "I just need a second." He rubbed a hand over his chest. "Feels like someone has steel band around me."

"Yeah, well, Dawson sure did a number on you Kid. I know you said he didn't jump you but I still don't understand how he was able to hurt you so badly. I'm still unclear on how this whole thing started today."

"Not now, Al," Sam requested. "Let's just get to the car then I'll answer your questions. Right now I don't have the breath to explain it to you and walk."

"Ok, Sam," Al agreed. He'd drop it for now but he expected an answer. After a few moments more of rest, Sam pushed off the car. Al moved slower as he walked the four rows left to his car. He unlocked the doors. "You need help getting in?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. He tried lowering himself into the car but since Al had a sports car, he had to bend his body a little more than it wanted to at the moment. He tried to stifle a groan but a small sound still escaped. "Guess I do need some help."

Al moved around to Sam's side and used himself as a brace for Sam to hold onto as he got into the car. Once the younger man was in and he closed the door, he moved back to the driver's side and slid it. Starting up the car, he pulled out and was quickly on the road towards home. Nothing had been said for the last few minutes so Al asked, "Ok. Now what happened? From the beginning."

"It's on the security tape." Seeing that that didn't satisfy Al, Sam gave a quick synopsis. "Dawson was waiting outside my office. He said a few things and I said something and he hauled off and hit me. I tried to duck but…" He paused, knowing Al could put two and two together. "When I pointed out the security camera had caught him doing it," he shrugged slightly, "I don't know. He went crazy or something and just started to hit and kick me."

Nodding towards Sam's swollen nose and blackening eyes, Al observed, "Your ducking technique didn't work."

"Yeah, well I didn't think he'd be that fast or that coordinated as drunk as he was. He surprised me."

Al considered that. "Ron was drunk?"

Sam raised his head and opened his eyes looking at Al questioningly. "That surprises you? The man's drunk more often than he sober."

"Not exactly surprises me. Just that he should have been stopped at the guard station. Guess it's possible that he got drunk once he arrived."

A chuckle escaped Sam at Al's statement. He immediately wrapped his arm around his ribs. "Ow. Don't make me laugh. Think about how many times you were drunk in the lab. What makes you think it's anything different for him?"

"Yeah. You've got a point," Al said, sheepishly. "In any case, Sam, if you knew more about Ron you'd know that he's been in a lot of barroom brawls. The guy can hold his own and alcohol just seems to make him more of a bad ass, if you know what I mean."

"No, I've got no idea. Maybe you should shadow me so I'll know these things in the future," Sam said with as deadpan an expression as he could manage. He leaned his head back again. "It's done now, Al, and we can't undo it. You should have whatever you need to make sure he's gone."

All the things Sam had said all came together. "So what you're telling me is that you formulated a plan on the fly to get irrefutable goods on Ron and that all this…" Al's hand moved to take in all of the injuries, "…is just collateral damage?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. All this wasn't really part of that on the fly plan. I really didn't think he'd go this far."

Al shook his head. "You got some kind of Don Quixote fixation or something?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, Sam," Al said calmly, "That you were willing to put yourself in harms way for a greater cause."

"It wasn't really that great a plan or anything. It just happened." Sam took a shallow breath and let it out slowly. "It just happened," he repeated. "Do you really think I wanted this? I've never broken my ribs before this. I'd have been happy to keep it that way."

"Yeah, and Don Quixote never expected the windmills to fight back so fiercely either."

"I've got a headache enough without you trying to give me another one," Sam pointed out. "Can we just drop this now? Like I said, nothing can be changed and this way, you've got all the irrefutable evidence you need."

"Ok, Sam. We'll drop it. Thanks for providing the evidence." He paused, "But next time, think through the consequences a little better, ok?"

"I don't think I could have thought this far ahead. Who knew the guy would go off the deep end like that. Trust me, though, next time I think something like this is going to happen, I'll probably think twice."

"Ok, that's all I ask." They were almost back to Al's condo when he pulled into the pharmacy parking lot. "Give me the prescription. I'll drop it off now and I can pick it up later."

Yeah, here," Sam handed Al the prescription. As Al started to get out of the car, Sam asked, "Hey, why'd you tell the doctor my place was being painted and that's why I'm staying with you? Why not just tell him the truth - I have...or had...no heat."

"It just seemed the best way not to have too many questions. No one questions having to go somewhere when you're having renovations." Al then continued to walk into the pharmacy. A few minutes later he came back and slid back behind the wheel. "Next stop, home."

"Good," Sam said softly once Al was in the car. Although he understood why he couldn't take the codeine yet, he was really wishing that he could.

Making it home, Al helped Sam out of the car again. When they went in, he nodded to his bedroom. "We'll get you resting in no time, Kid."

"Sounds good." This time it didn't even cross Sam's mind to refuse the use of Al's bedroom. "Can you call my mechanic? I was supposed to pick up my car today. Let him know I won't be able to make it 'til tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure, Sam." They went into the bedroom and Al pulled back the covers on the bed. "I'll give you a minute to get ready and then check on you."

"Wait," Sam called after Al as he started to leave. When his friend turned back around, he gestured to the buttons on his shirt and held up his splinted wrist. "I still need help with these."

"Oh, yeah." Al helped Sam with the buttons and then left the room. First, he took care of calling the mechanic. Then he called Kathy Esters. Explaining what had gone down, he asked if she could come by and stay at the condo while he went back to work. He needed to get back to the lab to make sure the investigations data was pulled together in addition to talking with the program lead. She agreed. Once he'd hung up, Al went back to the room and knocked softly. "Sam?"

"Come in," Sam called. He was sitting on the side of the bed. He'd put on his sweatpants but was shirtless with his sweatshirt in his lap. "I can't get it on," he explained holding it up. "And I can't figure out how to lie down without it feeling like someone's stabbing me in the chest." He took as deep a breath as he could. "I guess I really should have thought about this more."

"Like you said, there's nothing that can be done about that now." Al walked over to his closet and pull out an oversized sweat jacket that zipped up. "Here, try this." It worked much better than the sweatshirt although it was a little small on Sam. He then went to the pillows that Sam had used out in the living room. "We'll just use these to prop you up."

"Guess you didn't bargain for this when you told me to stay here 'cause my heat was out," Sam commented as Al helped him lean back against the pillows.

"No. I didn't. But I wouldn't have it any other way, kid." Once Sam was as comfortable as he could get, Al told him, "I've got to go back to work, Sam. You heard the Doctor, though. You need to have someone with you. I've asked Kathy Esters to come over and she said she'd be glad to. You met her the other night. She should be here in about ten minutes."

"Ok," Sam agreed hesitantly. Kathy had been nice enough at the party but he didn't know her well. He knew he'd need someone to help him if he had to get up and wasn't sure how comfortable he felt depending on someone who was more stranger than friend.

"It's only going to be for a few hours tops, Kid. I have to report to Dr. Mathis. What happened today changes everything. Making sure that all the information is pulled together is critical and I have to do that today, ok?" He asked the last with a question in his eyes as well as his voice.

"Yeah," Sam said with a small nod. "Go on. I'll be ok."

About ten minutes later, Kathy arrived and Al went back to the room. Sam was asleep so he just put a note on the side table that he was leaving. Kathy looked in as Al left the message. "It's ok, Al. I'll watch out for him."

"I know you will Kathy. I just promised him I'd let him know when I left." He looked at the sleeping man. "I hope he just gets some rest. It's hard to believe I didn't see that side of Ron." He paused. "I guess horse's ass doesn't quite go far enough.

Kathy rested a comforting hand on Al's arm. "Give yourself a break. If you'd known this was going to happen, you would have stopped it. I'm sure Sam doesn't blame you. And I have the feeling that the man that was a horse's ass is taking a hike, am I right?"

"Yeah, Kathy. That man is history." He smiled at her. "I'm just glad he didn't destroy what really matters." He gave a last look at Sam. "Thanks for coming over. I'll be back soon."

Kathy watched as Al left the room then turned back to the man sleeping in the bed. She smoothed the blanket over him and brushed the hair back from his eyes. "You've done something the rest of us couldn't. You brought him back," she whispered then left the room.

***************

Al went back to work. His first task was to get a hold of the tape. As he watched it, his fists clenched. He was going to nail Ron Dawson to the wall that was for sure. The second thing he did was talk with George to let him know what Sam had done. George couldn't believe that anyone would step in as Sam had. He told Al to let him know he wished him a speedy recovery. The last thing Al did was talk with Dr. Mathis, letting him know about the situation and what had been done.

Al walked into the program leads office. After the initial greetings, Al indicated that his business with the lead was serious. "Sir, we have an issue with one of our operations employees. Ron Dawson has been found to be creating a hostile work environment. My investigation shows it's been happening for a while.

Dr. Mathis leaned back in his chair and gave Al a level look. "I assume you have some kind of evidence of this, Admiral. This is serious charge, you realize."

Yes, sir. Dr. Becket had to be taken to the hospital due to injuries received today. That attack was caught on surveillance tape." He paused. "Another lab worker, George Myers stepped forward over the weekend to let me know that he'd been a victim prior to Dr. Beckett's arrival. Apparently, Dr. Beckett has been his target since then."

"Dr. Beckett's been taken to the hospital?" Dr. Mathis asked in concern leaning forward now. "Am I to assume his injuries were caused by Mr. Dawson?"

"Yes sir," Al confirmed. He added. "Mr. Dawson has been arrested for battery. He is currently being held in jail awaiting arraignment."

"And you say this assault was caught on video?" Receiving Al's nod of assurance, Mathis continued, "I think you know what to do, Admiral. This kind of behavior will not be tolerated in the least."

"I expected you'd say that, sir. The lab is on record with the police that we will be willing to cooperate fully in their investigation of the crime."

"Good. Then I guess there's nothing else we need to discuss regarding this matter then but keep me informed. You'll make sure everything is handled by the book but I want it made clear that Mr. Dawson is not to be on this property again."

"You can count on that, sir. As I said in the report, Dawson is currently in jail so that shouldn't be a problem." He excused himself and started to walk out of the office.

"Admiral," Dr. Mathis called as Al left, "is Dr. Beckett still in the hospital?"

Al turned back. "Um. No sir. He's home but under observation due to a slight concussion."

"Good. I hate to think that his injuries were bad enough to warrant hospital time. He's a good man. I wouldn't want to lose him."

Al nodded. "Yes sir. He is. I feel the same way." With that, he turned again and left.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Once Al had finished pulling all the information together and had set the direction for his people, he submitted his request for time off. He hadn't taken any for awhile and received permission quickly. Then he headed home. Arriving back at the condo, he found Kathy reading on the sofa. "Hi. I'm back." He nodded towards the door to his room. "How is he?"

"Dozing right now," Kathy answered as she closed the book. "He's been pretty uncomfortable and hasn't been able to sleep for long. I wish there was something he could take for the pain."

"Yeah. Me too, but the doctor was firm on that. 24 hours." He held up the bag from the pharmacy. "First chance though, I'll give him one of these."

"I tried to get him to eat a little lunch earlier - just some soup. He didn't eat much, though. He said he was feeling a little nauseated." As Kathy explained, Sam's voice came from the bedroom calling her name. She smiled slightly at Al and got up from the couch. "Let me go see what he needs." She approached the bedroom and pushed the door open, taking a step in. "You need something, Sam?"

"I don't mean to bother you but do you think you could help me get up? I need to use the restroom," Sam explained in an apologetic tone.

Al moved past Kathy. "Maybe it would be better if I helped you, Sam?" He figured that being stronger, it might be better for Sam.

"Al, you're back." As his friend stopped by bed, Sam explained, "I can't seem to get up without some help."

"Yeah. I just got back." He helped Sam to move upright. "I've had broken ribs before. I know how hard movement is."

"Wouldn't be so bad if I could at least use both arms." Once he was upright, Sam sat on the side of the bed for a few seconds panting slightly. "Is it too soon for more Tylenol?" he asked looking over to Kathy.

"No, you can have more if you want," she answered. "I'll go get them for you."

"I tried to wait as long as I could," Sam said as he slowly got to his feet. "I was hoping you'd be back soon because I wasn't sure Kathy would be able to help me get up."

"I'm glad I arrived when I did then." Al gave Sam a sad grin. "I'm sorry you're going through this, Sam. One good thing, though, is that your video was just what was needed."

"If I'd known you needed it, I would have let Dawson have a go at me sooner than this," Sam answered lightly. "You should have said something." He made his way slowly to the master bath, pulling the door closed behind him.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I suspect someone's beating up on you," Al called through the closed door. "And then I'll break his neck," he added more softly so Sam couldn't hear him.

Kathy came back into the room with the Tylenol and a glass of water. "I'll just put these by the bed, Al." Doing so, she looked over to him. "Now that you're here, I'm going to leave. John will be home soon. Let Sam know I hope he's better soon."

Al nodded. "I will. Thanks for coming over, Kathy. You're a great friend."

"Well, a few months ago, you would have had a different response from me."

Al looked down. "Yeah. I deserve that." He gave her a smile. "New beginnings?"

"Yeah," she said. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she turned to leave the room. "I'd like to say goodbye to Sam, but I really need to get back to the house."

Sam came out of the bathroom just as Kathy was leaving. "Are you going?"

"Yes. John will be home soon. Now that Al's here, I want to be there when he arrives."

"Ok. Thanks for staying with me." Sam slowly walked back to the bed. Seeing the Tylenol and water on the table, he took them both.

Al walked Kathy to the door and then came back to Sam. "I met with Dr. Mathis when I went back. He was concerned about you. Said he's glad the injuries weren't any worse. He doesn't want to lose you."

"That's nice," Sam said with a small, tired smile as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Right now, they feel a whole lot worse. It feels like two or three guys decided to use me as a punching bag instead of just one."

"Yeah. I saw, Sam. Dawson's actions were criminal."

"I want to press charges," Sam said slowly. "I want to press criminal charges. He didn't have to do this. What if he'd done it to someone else?"

"I watched what you did, Sam. If you hadn't protected yourself the way you did, he would have killed you. The lab will back you to the hilt. You will definitely seal his fate."

"Ok, so tomorrow, I'll go and talk to the police. They'll need a statement or something from me, won't they?"

"Yeah." Al paused. "George sends his wishes for a speedy recovery."

"That's nice of him." Sam tried to lie back against the pillows on his own but didn't have much luck. "Do you mind if I try to sleep for a little while. I haven't been able to and keep thinking if I do, it might not hurt as much."

"Of course not, Sam." Al plumped the pillows a bit then helped Sam to lie back against them. Finally he pulled up the covers. "I'll just be outside if you need anything."

"Ok," Sam was settling himself as comfortably as he could when he thought of something. His head came up off the pillow, as he asked, "No one called my mother, right? She doesn't know about this, does she?"

"Um. No," Al answered. "At least not yet."

"Not yet? You're not going to call her, right? She doesn't need to worry about this. She's got enough to worry about with Katie and the kids."

"I'll make sure she isn't called then, Sam." Al soothed. He figured it was a good thing he'd been too busy to get to that. It was the next thing to do on his list. He filed away the information how Sam felt about worrying his mother.

"Thanks." Sam settled back against the pillows. "I'll just sleep for a little while now. That's all." He tried to stifle a yawn to no avail. "I'm tired."

"Ok, Kid. You do that." Al took one more look at Sam as he settled down to sleep. Both of his eyes had blackened and had swollen almost shut. There was a bruise along his jaw and he knew that there were even more bruises on his body covered by his clothes. Shaking his head slightly, he turned off the light and left the room.

***************

It was nearly 6:30 when Al returned to the bedroom once more. Sam was sleeping soundly and he felt bad that he had to wake him up. It was necessary, though. The doctor had told him not to let Sam sleep for long stretches without waking him to check his awareness. Dinner was also ready and since Kathy said Sam hadn't eaten much for lunch, he wanted to get something into him now. Other than the bagels they'd had this morning, Al knew Sam hadn't eaten anything else.

He'd woken the kid up once before but that was a couple of hours ago and aside from the initial confusion of waking in a strange place, he'd been fine. Al didn't expect anything different.

He sat carefully on the side of the bed ready to wake his friend. He wanted the process to be as easy as possible. Resting his hand on Sam's right arm, he shook it gently and called his name. The only answer Sam gave was an irritated snort. Al tried again, shaking the arm under his hand just a little harder. "C'mon, Sam. Time for you to wake up. C'mon, Sammy." He wasn't aware that he'd called Sam by the more affectionate form of him name. He did notice the hazel eyes blink open and the confusion in them.

"'Smatta," Sam asked fuzzily. "How come you're wakin' me?"

"Sorry, Kid," Al said contritely. "I know you were probably enjoying your sleep but you know the doc wants me to keep a check on you and make sure that noggin of yours isn't hurt too bad."

A wide yawn split Sam's face then he rubbed his hand down his face. "Wasn't hurtin' when I was sleepin.'"

"I know, Kid," Al commiserated. He gave Sam another few seconds to get his bearings before asking, "You know where you are?"

"Yeah. I'm in your bedroom…in your bed." The statement was followed by a little huff of laughter.

"What's so funny about that?" Al inquired. He wasn't seeing where Sam could see any humor in his location and hoped the kid's seemingly inappropriate laughter didn't mean something worse was going on in his head besides just the concussion.

"Because, that sounds so bad," Sam explained. "I'm in your bed." The fuzziness of sleep was starting to fade away.

Understanding now what Sam had found funny, Al chuckled a little as well. "Yeah, I guess that could sound pretty bad if you take it the wrong way. Sorry, Kid, you're about as far from my type as you can get."

"Well, you're not exactly dream date either," Sam shot back. "Now that I'm awake and you know that I'm sane, can I go back to sleep? It really doesn't hurt as bad when I do."

"In a little while. Right now how about a little dinner? Kathy said you didn't eat much for lunch."

Sam made a face at the mention of food. "I was feeling off. I didn't think my ribs would feel so good if I puked."

Al winced sympathetically knowing first hand that broken ribs and vomiting were not a match made in heaven. Hell, maybe, but certainly not heaven. "Well, are you feeling off now?"

There was a brief silence as Sam took stock of just how he was feeling. "Not really. Still feels like someone's shooting a cannon off in head and my whole body is hurting but my stomach doesn't feel like it's going to rebel."

"Good, then you should be able to eat a little dinner." Al didn't give Sam the chance to protest anymore before helping him to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. Once he was steady, he helped him up to his feet.

While Al went out the kitchen, Sam made a brief stop in the bathroom before joining him. "Smells good," he admitted. He waved off Al's help and slowly lowered himself to one of the kitchen chairs.

Al set a plate of food in front of Sam. Knowing the younger man would be hampered by the use of only one hand, he'd made sure to cook foods that were either bite-sized or easily cut with a fork. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans seemed like a safe choice for that. "It should," he responded to Sam's statement with a grin. "That's my world-famous Calavicci meatloaf."

"World-famous?" Sam asked dubiously. "Just what makes it world-famous?"

"That's simple, Kid. A couple of years ago I was dating a stewardess who came from France and I made it for her."

Sam's eyebrows raised prompting Al to finish his explanation when he didn't say anymore. "And…how does that make it world famous."

"She's from another part of the world," Al answered slowly. "Maybe you got hit harder on the head than we thought."

"Or maybe you just need a new definition of world-famous," Sam quickly shot back. He cut off a piece of the food in question and put it in his mouth. "Hey, this isn't half-bad."

"Well, you know, Sam, any good Italian knows how to cook. Meatloaf is just one of the many dishes I've mastered." He took his own plate and sat down to eat.

"So you've said." Sam ate a little more than half of what Al had served him before pushing his plate away. "I think that's all I can eat right now. Maybe I can have the rest later."

"Ok, Kid. I'll put it away for you."

"Thanks." Sam watched while Al wrapped up his leftovers and put them in the refrigerator. Al sat down again and continued with his own meal. "Did I hear someone come by a little while ago?"

Taking a sip of Coke before answering, Al nodded. "Yeah, Sam. Detective Johnson came by. He wanted your statement but I told him you were sleeping." Al pulled a business card out of his pocket. "He left this for you. I hope you don't mind, but I told him you were planning on pressing charges against Ron Dawson. He said you should come down to the station soon."

Sam took the card and looked at. "That' ok, I do plan on pressing charges. I wish I'd done it earlier." He watched as Al finished his meal then started to clean up in the kitchen. "You want some help?"

"No. You need to let those ribs heal. Moving around a lot isn't going to do that." Al finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher. "You want me to take you down to the station tomorrow?"

"Well, either that or I hitchhike." Sam turned in the chair to follow Al as he moved around the kitchen. As he did, his breath caught and he wrapped an arm around his chest.

Al turned. "You need any help, Kid?"

"No," Sam forced out in a strained voice. "I just moved the wrong way, that's all."

"Yeah," Al said sympathetically.

Sam spent the next couple of minutes just concentrating on his breathing and willing the pain away. Eventually, it did lessen to a more bearable level. He slowly got up. "I think I'm going to go sit on the couch. It might be more comfortable."

"Ok, Kid. I'm almost finished. You want to watch some TV or a movie?"

"Either one's ok. I'm not fussy." Sam slowly lowered himself down to the couch, bracing his ribs as he moved. "What did you have in mind?"

Al finished wiping off the counters. "I don't know. Maybe a movie. You like old stuff or are you only into the newer movies?"

"I'm open to just about anything. What kind of old movies are you talking about?"

"Well, we could either go with a season piece like _White Christmas_ or _It's a Wonderful Life_ or we could go with something that's just fun."

"_White Christmas_," Sam quickly answered. "I haven't seen that in years." He looked over the couch. "Could we have some popcorn too? And maybe some hot chocolate?" He had an expectant, almost childlike look on his face when he asked.

Al's looked over at the man that had been his friend for less than a year and marveled. This year had really been a gift. For the first time in a very long time, he felt that things had a purpose and he had a friend that would stand with him through thick and thin. Sam had proved that for sure. His eyes soft, Al smiled. "Yeah. Whole theatre experience."

About fifteen minutes later, Al joined Sam in the living room with a bowl of popcorn and two mugs of hot chocolate. He handed one mug to Sam and put the bowl down beside him. The other mug he put on the coffee table while he put the movie in the VCR. "This is nice, Al," Sam said once his friend was sitting beside him. "The only thing missing is the tree lights," he said in a hint.

Al had started to settle down and now just looked at Sam. "You have an entire script for watching TV?"

"Huh? I just meant...well..." Sam blew out a slow breath. "I just figured since it's the day after Christmas and we're going to watch a Christmas movie it would be nice if they were on, that's all. You don't have to if you don't want to."

Seeing the kid back pedal, Al gave him a small shove, gentle enough not to cause any more pain to his ribs. "Nah. It's ok. It will make it nice. Be right back." He got up and turned on the tree. The multicolored vision sprang to life and the glow it gave the room made it feel homey.

When Al settled back on the sofa, Sam pushed the popcorn bowl so that it was a little closer to him then sipped at his hot chocolate. The warm glow of the tree lights made him think of home and holidays with his family and his heart ached for them just a little. He looked sideways at the man sitting next to him realizing that if he wasn't with his family this year, Al was a good choice to spend the holiday with. "Thanks for making it easier," he said looking at the TV and not at Al.

Al had been watching the show begin, the World War II Christmas show where the two men that Crosby and Kay played became friends when he heard Sam speak. "Um, what?" he asked. He'd been thinking about how people became friends took many forms.

"Thanks for making Christmas easier," Sam clarified. He still wasn't able to look at his friend and kept watching the TV. "I thought it was going to be lonely not being with my family but it wasn't. Even if things did go a little sideways, it was good."

Al continued watching the show but nodded. "Yeah. It was good." He didn't say anything for a while. Finally, he added, "It sort of zigged and zagged, that's for sure. Still, if it weren't for you..." Al didn't know how to say what he was feeling without it sounding mushy. "Best damned Christmas I've had in years," he settled with.

It may not have been considered the most sentimental thing but it meant a lot to Sam. For longer than he could remember he'd been looking for someone who wasn't just an acquaintance or a casual friend but someone who was a close friend. Someone you knew would be there no matter what and someone that you knew you'd be there for. Al was that person. "To us," he said holding his mug in Al's direction.

Al smiled and brought his mug to Sam's. "Yeah. I'll drink to that." He chuckled. "As long as it's only hot chocolate."

Sam also chuckled and the two drank from their mugs. After the impromptu toast, the two watched the movie quietly. A little more than half way through, Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Do you mind if I go to bed now?" he asked a few moments later. "My head's starting to pound again.

"You need more Tylenol?" Al asked concerned.

"Since I can't have anything stronger right now, yeah."

"Let me get it." As Al went to get it he told Sam, "If you want to go to bed, I understand." He found the bottle and knocked out a couple of the pills getting a glass of water before coming back to the sofa.

Sam accepted the Tylenol from Al and swallowed them followed by the water. He tried to stay up for a little while longer but his ribs and wrist soon started to join in with his head. "I really need to lie down," he finally said. "It's all starting to hurt a lot."

Al nodded and helped Sam up. "Ok, Kid. You know I'll be out here if you need me."

Sam nodded shallowly and made his way to bedroom. Getting into bed, he tried to lie down but found it put too much pressure on his ribs. Instead, he ended up leaning against the piled pillows in a half-seated position. Looking at the clock, he couldn't hold back a sigh when he saw how early it was. It was going to be a long night and there was still a lot of time before he could take the codeine to kill the pain.

Al retrieved his bedding for the other room sans pillows. He figured he could just use the ones on the sofa as Sam obviously needed to use the other ones to stay comfortable. Understanding only too well what the other man was going through, he said, "I know it hurts now, Sam, but they will get better."

"I know, Al. Everything's just hurting so much right now. It's hurting just to take a deep breath." Sam looked away squeezing his eyes shut. "Can I just have the codeine now? There's nothing wrong that it's going to mask. I just want it to stop hurting for a little while."

Al started, "The doctor said..."

"I don't care," Sam said sharply cutting him off. "He's not the one feeling this, I am."

"What if your concussion gets worse?"

"It's not," Sam assured hoping to convince Al. "It's just a plain and simple low-grade concussion. You've seen how I've been all night. Do I look like there's anything wrong?"

"No," Al answered, still unsure what to do.

Sam decided to try a different tact to make Al understand how much pain he was in. "I don't like to take anything strong. I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't need it. Please."

"Ok. When you put it that way," Al agreed slowly. He tried one more time. "You sure this is medically sound?"

"I don't care about medically sound right now," Sam responded. Honestly, he knew it wasn't the soundest idea he could have. The odds that he had a more than just the slight concussion that was diagnosed were slight but they did still exist. At this point, though, his need for relief far outweighed that. He was willing to take his chances.

Al bit at the inside of his lip. He could tell Sam was in pain and wanted desperately to help him. "Would I be able to tell if something went wrong?" With a nervous laugh he continued, "You know, zigs when it should be zagging? So you'd be ok?"

"If I don't wake up, something's wrong." Seeing that his answer didn't satisfy Al and, in fact looked like it made him more reluctant to give in, Sam felt he had to be honest. "Honestly, I don't know. It'll probably make me groggy and not exactly lucid. A lack of lucidity is also a sign of a worsening head injury. That's why the doctor said not to take anything with a narcotic. If it hasn't happened by now, though," he began trying to make Al see his point, "it's probably because it's not going to happen."

"Would you know if it was the head injury or the codeine?" Al asked, wanting to know before he made this decision.

"No. That's what not being lucid means." Sam could see how much Al wanted to help him but at the same time how worried he was of doing something that could hurt him. The last thing he wanted to do was to give the older man cause to worry...or more cause to worry. He'd done a lot for him just these past few days and he didn't think it would be fair for Al to lose sleep tonight worrying over whether or not he'd wake up in the morning. "Forget it," he said. "If I take it, you're just going worry and you'd probably have reason. I'll just have to tough it out 12 more hours."

Al made the decision. "No. You won't sleep either." His eyes went distant as if remembering. "You'll just lay there in the dark in pain." His eyes came back to Sam. "I'll get the codeine, Sam."

"No, wait." Sam made a grab for Al's arm to stop him from leaving. He'd seen something in his eyes. Unfortunately, he moved too fast for his broken ribs. He dropped back against the pillow with a grunt of pain.

Almost feeling the other man's pain, Al grimaced as well. "See, Sam? If I don't give it to you, that's what you'll be facing for the next 12 hours. I can't do that to you, Kid."

"And I can't make you worry all night," Sam forced out through gritted teeth. There had to be a solution that would work that the two of them would be comfortable with. "Call the hospital," he suggested.

"What?" Al asked, confused and fearful that something else was wrong now. "Is your concussion getting worse?"

"No, no. Nothing's wrong," Sam reassured. "Call the hospital and talk to a doctor. Ask. What harm can it do?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense. Sort of a second opinion." He went over to the paperwork and pulled out the number to call if there were any changes. He dialed the number and waited for an answer, looking at Sam as if to convey what was happening.

The phone was soon answered and he explained what he wanted. After a few moments on hold, he was connected with an on duty physician. He explained why he was calling and listened as the doctor gave his advice. He knew Sam wasn't going to be pleased with the answer. He thanked the man for his help and hung up the phone then turned and explained to Sam what the doctor had said - that if he really wanted to take the codeine, then it would be best for him to return to the hospital overnight where he could be monitored. As he'd expected, Sam not only wasn't happy with the answer, he was adamantly against it.

Al sat gently on the side of the bed making sure not to bounce Sam. "I wish there was something else I could do for you to make it feel better, Kid." He looked at the bedside clock. It was going to be at least 12 hours before Sam could safely take the codeine he'd been prescribed. Even if he did fudge on the time a little, it was still going to be a while. He thought back to the time he was a POW. He'd had some injuries then that hadn't been treated properly. There certainly hadn't been any pain relievers. He'd learned to just clear his mind of the pain and think about home and Beth. In a way, he probably taught himself mediation. He wondered if that might work for Sam now – at least enough for him to get some rest and relief until he could take the stronger medication.

He rested his hand on Sam's uninjured arm and rubbed it lightly. "Close your eyes, Sam. Close your eyes and just listen to me."

Sam gave Al an odd look where he sat on the bed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you take your mind off of what's hurting you so you can get some rest but you have to cooperate with me," Al chided gently. "Now c'mon. Close your eyes and just listen to me."

"Guess there's not much to lose," Sam said grudgingly then did as he was told and closed his eyes.

"Good, that's good, Kid. Now don't think about anything but what I tell you think about." Al waited until he saw a small nod from Sam. Receiving the acknowledgement, he started to talk again in a soft, almost monotone voice. Using the bits of knowledge he'd gleaned about Sam's past both from the kid and from the photos he'd seen in the photo album, he talked to him about think about being a child again and being home with his family. Twenty minutes later, his voice starting to give out from talking so long, he noticed that Sam seemed to have slipped off to a light sleep. He had no idea if his idea had actually helped Sam or if he'd just bored the kid to sleep. All he cared about was that it had worked.

He stood up being careful not to jostle the bed and rouse Sam from his rest. He smoothed the covers over the younger man making sure he'd be warm during the night. His heart felt lighter knowing that he'd helped his friend to find some kind of comfort and hoped it would last a least a few hours.

He leaned over and turned off the light on the bedside table. "Sleep easy, Kid," he whispered as he gave the blankets one more twitch then left the room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Al had gone back to the living room and got ready for bed. He watched the news and then settled down to sleep. Forty winks hadn't even been reached when he heard Sam moaning. Getting up, he went into the room and found Sam thrashing around in the bed as he tried to get comfortable - an impossible task.

He convinced Sam to take some ibuprophen in addition to the Tylenol hoping it would help to ease a little more of the pain. Fluffing the pillows, He had helped Sam to move into a different position and within a half hour, the kid had dropped off yet again.

Al went back to the couch and settled down. He'd been asleep about an hour when the same thing happened again.

"I'm sorry," Sam said sadly when he saw Al come into the room again. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"No problem Kid," Al said masking a yawn. "I wasn't all that sleepy anyways."

"You're lying," Sam countered. He tried to hold back a yawn of his own but wasn't very successful. "I just want to sleep for a couple of hours."

"Well, at least I'm no more tired than you. I just wish there was something I could do."

"Well, short of the codeine, I don't know what would work."

Al thought for a moment. "How about some warm milk?"

"Ok," Sam agreed. And can you um…" he continued tentatively. "Will you try that thing you did before? It worked last time."

"Yeah. Sure," Al said with a light smile. "Be right back." He went and fixed the milk and brought in two mugs. . "Here you go, Sam."

Sam accepted the mug held out to him. "Thanks." While he'd waited for Al to come back, he'd pushed a little more upright in order to be able to drink. "How come you seem to know how to help me?" he asked looking for something to keep his mind occupied other than how his body felt. "I mean, you know just how to help me move so it doesn't feel like my ribs are grinding against each other and that it's harder to lie flat than propped up."

"I've had broken ribs before Kid. I guess I just remember how I had to move." He sat on the side of the bed and sipped at his own milk.

There was silence in the room for a few minutes that Sam eventually broke. "Warm milk was always Mom's cure-all whenever we couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, it's a tried and true remedy," Al said with a small grin. He sat looking into his mug, a memory of his father doing the same thing. It was one of the few really good memories Al had of his childhood. It was after his father had returned from the Middle East but before he'd gotten sick. "When I need to relax, it usually does the trick."

"I don't think it was just the milk," Sam continued. He was too caught up in his own memories to see the reflection of Al's in his eyes. "I think it was more because after I'd drink the milk, Mom would sit with me and rub my back until I did fall asleep. She did the same thing for Tom and Katie, too. I think that's what really did it."

"Yeah," Al said, understanding from Sam's reminisces how close his family had been.

"After we found out about Tom," Sam continued, "Mom sat with me almost every night for a week and I know she'd sit with Katie, too." His eyes grew distant as he thought back to that horrible time. "Sometimes I think she spent so much time taking care of us, maybe we didn't give her the chance to be comforted instead."

Remembering how devastated Trudy had been at their father's death, Al understood. He'd needed to be there for her. "I'm sure she was grieving along with you."

"I know she grieved. I just...I don't know. She was just always there and always trying to be strong for us - her and Dad both."

"That's what parents do, Kid. They do their best to take care of their kids and make it easier for them even when it's hard for them."

"I know and Mom and Dad did it. Whenever Katie or I needed them to be strong for us, they were." Sam finished the milk in the mug handed it to Al. "I guess I should try to sleep again." He slid down as far as he could against the pillows.

Al took the mugs into the other room and put them in the dishwasher. Coming back in, he sat down on the side of the bed once more. "Ok. Close your eyes, Sam." He again used the technique he'd used in Vietnam. Within a quarter hour, Sam was again asleep. Al hoped this time the kid could get some rest.

For the next couple of hours, both men did get some sleep, although neither would say it was very restful. Sam was just under the surface and Al was keeping an ear pealed to hear if Sam needed him again. By four a.m. Sam was up once more. Al gave him more OTC painkillers but this time they didn't do much. Hearing the kid's groans, Al finally got the bottle of codeine at 6 a.m. Shaking out a pill and getting him some water, he told Sam, " I doubt that three hours is going to make much of a difference."

"I don't think so," Sam agreed. He gratefully accepted the pill and the water. "I hope it works fast," he said after swallowing it.

"I do too. You've suffered enough."

"I know you have to get ready to go to work soon but, would you mind just waiting in here just a little while until it does work?" Unconsciously, Sam turned the same wide eyed, innocent look he'd used on Al over the last couple of days to convince him to do something.

Al looked at the younger man looking so innocent and smiled. "Sure, Sam. I'll do that."

"Thanks." Sam settled down and about fifteen minutes after he'd taken the pill it started to work. His body relaxed and he smiled blearily at Al. "I think I'm floating," he said dreamily. "I really like it."

Al had sat with Sam while the medication took effect. While he was glad that it had started to work, Sam's words, set him on edge a bit. "Um, maybe I should sit with you awhile longer. I'd hate for your floating to get you into any trouble."

"Ok," Sam agreed breezily. He made an attempt to roll over but wasn't coordinated enough to do so. When he tried, his splinted wrist fell heavily to the mattress. "Didn't hurt," he reported as he picked his hand up again and let it drop. "See, didn't hurt."

Al reached out and took Sam's hand to prevent him from dropping it again. "Sam...don't do that. Just because you don't feel it now doesn't mean you're not hurting it." Al was watching Sam carefully. "You act like this is the first time you've taken codeine."

Sam shot Al a goofy grin. "It is. And it's wonderful."

Al grinned. "Well, then it's a good thing I took leave and I'm staying home for a few days. The way you're acting, I don't know what I'd find when I came home otherwise.

A wide yawn nearly cracked Sam's jaw. "Can I go to sleep now?" His eyelids were at half-mast and he was struggling not to let them close fully until he'd received Al's blessing that it was ok for him to go to sleep now.

"Yeah, Kid, that's a good idea." He got up and straightened the covers. "I think I'll hit the sack again myself."

Sam again attempted to roll over but was lacking in coordination even more. "I forget how to move," he stated. "Can you show me?"

Al had to laugh lightly. "Ok. Let me fix these pillows for you." He moved Sam around so that the younger man could lie on his side.

"That's better," Sam sighed once Al had helped him onto his side. He snuggled down into the covers pulling them nearly over his head. "'Night, Al."

"Night, Sam. Pleasant dreams." Al looked at the now sleeping man who was already starting to softly snore. He reached out his hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Then he turned and left the room.

He went back to the sofa and crawled back under the cover, falling asleep almost as fast as Sam had.

***************

When Sam next woke, he could tell from the way the sun looked through the window that it was late. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw that it was nearly noon. The last thing he remembered was Al giving him the codeine tablet at six in the morning. He'd slept six hours straight. His stomach was starting to grumble reminding him that he hadn't put anything in it for quite a while. His ribs and wrist were also starting to throb a little as well. He rolled over to his back and stared up at the ceiling for a few moments. He was just about to attempt to get out of bed when there was a soft knock on the bedroom door followed by it opening slightly and Al poking his head in.

"Hey, Kid. You're looking a lot better. You hungry?" Al said. He'd woken about thirty minutes earlier.

"Yeah. I could eat," Sam agreed. A more pressing need besides food made itself known as well and hastened his attempt to get up. "I just need the bathroom first."

Al noticed Sam having a hard time and went over to lend a hand to help him up. "Ok. I'll have lunch ready in a few minutes."

"Guess I missed breakfast," Sam commented before moving as quickly as he could to the bathroom. "I'll be right out."

Al laughed lightly and went back into the other room to fix a lunch of soup and ham sandwiches. He was just putting the last slice of bread on the sandwich when Sam came out.

As Sam walked through the living room, the phone rang and he stopped to answer it. After answering "Calavicci residence," Sam listened for a brief moment to the caller before his face blanched of color and he slammed the phone down. "I thought you said he was arrested," he demanded of Al.

"What?" Al asked, seeing Sam's face change rapidly. "Dawson? Yeah. He was arrested."

"Maybe he was but he's not now." Sam sat slowly at the kitchen table. "He threatened me. Before yesterday, I probably wouldn't have believed him but now..."

"What did he say, Sam?" Al was worried as well. He knew Dawson's personality well enough to know that the guy didn't give up on things.

"Just that...just that he was going to make me pay. I hung up before he said anything else." Sam crossed his arms over his chest and looked down briefly before looking up. Worry was visible in his eyes. "Why does he hate me? What did I do to him?"

"I don't know, Sam. I was friends with him but that was before I sobered up. We were drinking buddies but I guess I really didn't know him."

"Maybe he thinks I 'stole' you from him," Sam posited. "He wasn't exactly Mr. Personality before that but once you stopped drinking, that's when he started using me as a punching bag." His voice turned thoughtful as he tried to puzzle out why it was Ron Dawson seemed to despise him so. "A couple of times he said I cost him money. I couldn't figure that out. It's not as if he didn't get a raise or promotion or something because of me. Maybe...when you'd go drinking, did you do the buying?"

Al considered what Sam was asking. Slowly he answered. "Yes...I did that more often than not."

"So, he hates me because he has to buy his own booze," Sam said. Disbelief colored his voice. "If it weren't for the fact that he'd like to remove my head from my body, I'd almost feel bad for him. How sad is your life if that's a major thing?"

"Well, when the bottle's got you..." Al started sheepishly. Still, he knew this was no excuse for what Dawson was doing. "Let me call the police to see what's up."

At first, Sam was going to suggest they could wait until they went to the station so he could make his statement. Remembering the sound of Dawson's voice on the phone and what he'd done the day before, Sam nodded in agreement. "Maybe that's a good idea."

Al made the phone call, asking why Dawson had been released. Hearing that it was the fact that Sam hadn't made a statement or formally pressed charges, Al told them that would be remedied quickly.

"Why didn't they tell you that yesterday," Sam asked once Al had explained to him what the police had said. "I could have given them a statement yesterday if they needed that to charge him."

Al let out a breath. "I guess I didn't understand that. I told them you were resting. All the detective said was you should do it soon. I figured today was soon. I didn't realize there was a time limit. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "Doesn't sound like they were really clear on that. I'm sure you would have done things differently if you'd known."

" Still, I should have asked more questions."

"But you didn't know, Al. Don't beat yourself up, ok. It can't be changed."

Al took a breath and nodded. "Yeah." He still felt he'd let Sam down but arguing about it wasn't going to change things. "You're right."

The two men ate their lunch and then they quickly finished getting ready for the day. First thing, Al drove Sam to the station. Once they arrived, Sam started to get out of the car. Al asked, "You want me to come in with you, Kid?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. I don't know how long it's going to be."

Once in the station, Sam spoke to the desk sergeant and explained why he was there. After a short wait, he was brought back to speak with a detective. After giving his statement, the detective explained the process that was going to occur. A warrant would be issued for Ron Dawson's arrest. Once he'd been arrested, he'd be arraigned and formal charges would be made against him. After that, depending on if he entered a guilty or innocent plea, bail would be set and a trial date soon after.

After he'd signed his statement, Sam was free to leave. He rejoined Al where he'd been waiting at the front of the police station. "They're going to arrest him again," he explained to his friend.

"That's good. They going to keep him in jail this time?"

"Yeah, until the arraignment then he can get out on bail." Sam took the coat that Al held out to him and put it on. He tried not to fidget when the other man had pull up the zipper for him. "The detective said he'd probably be arraigned tomorrow unless they can't find him to arrest him today."

"Maybe it would be best to get you out of town."

"What?" Sam asked surprised at the suggestion. "I am not going to run away. Besides, they'll probably have him in custody in a couple of hours. I'm not running away," he repeated firmly.

"Ok, Sam. I just don't want him doing anything else that would hurt you."

"I can't say it's something I'd like to happen again," Sam said as he lightly rubbed at his chest. "If I didn't think the police were going to arrest him, I'd agree with you. We just have to let them do their job first." Jokingly, he added, "Besides, you're a Navy Admiral so you have a gun, don't you? I guess you can protect me."

"Yeah. I do. I don't normally carry it with me though."

"I didn't think you did. Look, let's just forget about it right now, ok. We'll let the police do their job and we'll go about our lives. Speaking of which, I still need to pick up my car and I should check to see if I have heat at my place yet so I can go back home."

"Sounds like a good plan, Sam." Al paused, "Even if you have your heat back, I think it's better if you stayed at my place until Dawson's under lock and key."

Sam was going to push that he could stay at his apartment but one look at the hard lines Al's face was set in and he knew he shouldn't even bother. "Ok," he sighed, "but I still need to go home and get some clean clothes, then. That is, unless you expect me to keep wearing the same thing over and over."

"Well, Kid. No offence but sometimes you can't tell that you're not wearing the same thing over and over again."

"Ha, ha funny," Sam said clearly not amused. He waited by the car until Al opened the door and helped him in. "You should talk." He eyed Al's uniform. "For all I know, you've been wearing that same uniform for the last week."

"No. I do have several uniforms to changes into but in the military, it's supposed to look the same day after day. I can promise you something through. Once I'm out of the Navy, I won't ever look the same from day to day."

"Judging by what I've seen you wearing the last couple of days, I can believe that." Sam tried to hold back a sigh of impatience when A leaned in and put the seatbelt on for him. "I could have done that," he said evenly. "It's my left wrist that's broken, not my right." He held up his uninjured limb to make his point.

"Sorry, Kid," Al said. "I guess it was force of habit since I've done it before and you didn't say anything. Guess I wasn't thinking it through."

"I know you weren't. You didn't think when we got in the car earlier either"

"Ok, Sam. I get it. It bothers you. Sheesh. I won't do it again."

"It's ok," Sam conceded. "I know you're just trying to help." He looked at his splinted wrist in disgust. "It's probably not a good idea to pick up my car today. I'm not sure I can steer with this splint on. Maybe once it's casted, but not like this."

"Yeah," Al said looking at Sam's wrist as well. "We'll just go over to your place for the other stuff."

"You gonna let me go back to work tomorrow?" Sam asked after Al had started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

"You think you'll feel up to it?"

"Why not? I'm feeling ok now." Seeing the disbelieving look Al gave him, Sam amended, "Ok, I'm starting to get sore again and I'll probably take another one of those pain pills once we get back to your place but it should start to feel better tomorrow. Shouldn't it?"

Al sighed. "Broken ribs take time, Sam."

"Well, I can't wait until it starts to feel better then. I'll just have to tough it out, that's all."

"Yeah, but toughing it out doesn't mean pushing yourself too far."

"And I also can't just sit around until it's healed. Ok," Sam said trying to find a common ground, "I need to go back and get the cast put on tomorrow so I'll give it another day and I'll go in on Friday. Does that work for you?"

"Well," Al started, "it would be better..." He looked at Sam's face settling back into its stubborn configuration and changed his words. "But I guess it's all you're ready to accept."

"I'm falling behind on my work, Al. I can't afford to do that. I don't care what Dr. Perkin's been telling you up 'til now. If I don't get my work done, then she's not going to be happy with me."

Al's eyebrows rose. "When you put it that way, Sam..."

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't think it's important that I do my job?"

"No. That's not what I mean. I'm just surprised you're getting behind."

"This is the second day I haven't been there. Of course I'm getting behind. Well...I think I'm getting behind."

"Considering how far ahead you usually are from the rest of the pack, I'd figure you might have a cushion, kid."

"Not if I'm out, I won't," Sam pointed out. "I didn't even call in today. You did, or at least I think you did." Suddenly worried that he could have somehow put his job in jeopardy, Sam quickly asked, "You did call the lab, didn't you? Dr. Perkins knows why I wasn't there today? She doesn't think I was just fooling around today, does she?"

"Yes, Sam. She knows what's going on. She was concerned about you after she heard about what Ron Dawson did to you and wants you to get better. I don't think the woman is a slave-driver."

"I guess everyone knows what happened?" Embarrassment colored Sam's voice. "Geez, what must everyone think of me. I never fought back. I just let him hit me."

"I'm not sure that everyone knows the facts, Sam. As far as I know, there are only a handful of people that have seen the video and none of them tend to be gossips. I think it's likely that most people just think that Dawson threw his weight around one too many times and it caught up with him."

"You saw it didn't you," Sam stated. "You know what he did. I..." he began hesitantly. "I think I'd like to see it. A lot of it's hazy and I want to know exactly what happened."

"Yes, I saw it. I was ready to throttle the nozzle myself based on what he did." At Sam's request, Al agreed. "Yeah, I think that might be a good idea. It's pretty obvious early on that he really had gotten the upper hand. I'm not sure there was anything you could have done."

"I could have walked away from him," Sam pointed out. Since that was ground they'd already covered, he chose not to push it again. They were nearing his apartment and he thought it best to change the subject. "You think you can drive me to hospital tomorrow to get my wrist taken care of? I know it means more time off for you so I can take a cab if you can't."

"I'll be able to do that, Kid. I've got some leave accrued and I'm using that so I'm covered with taking the time off." He didn't tell Sam he'd requested up to a week.

"Thanks," Sam responded gratefully. A sardonic smile touched his lips. "I'm sure this isn't how you planned on using that time."

"No. It wasn't but it's how I choose to spend it now. It's more important."

"Well, I'm still grateful." They'd arrived at Sam's apartment building and Al pulled into a parking space. "Are you going to come up?"

"I probably should. It's going to be difficult to pack something in the condition you're in."

"Condition? I hate having a condition." Despite his words, Sam waited until Al came around to help him get out of the car. He looked up the flight of steps to get the level his apartment was on. "This is not going to be fun," he said under his breath.

"Yeah...I hear you, Sam." Al looked up the stairs. "I have an idea. Give me your key. I'll go up and check things out. You know, heat and everything. I'll throw some of your clothes in a bag and then," he clapped his hands together to show everything would be done, "you won't have to deal with the pain."

"No. I want to pack myself. I'll just...I'll just take it slow." Slowly, Sam ascended the first few steps before stopping and leaning against the banister. "Just give me a sec." After short pause, he went up a few more steps before stopping again.

"You don't need to do this, Kid," Al offered again, his face showing the concern he had as Sam fought the pain he knew he was feeling.

"Yes, I do." Sam couldn't put into words why, but he had to get to the top of the stairs. Anything less felt too much like defeat. It took several minutes but eventually he made it to the top step. "I did it," he said with a sigh as he leaned back against the wall.

Al nodded, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. He still didn't think it was the wisest thing to do but he had to give the kid credit. He wasn't a quitter.

"Here," Sam held out his keys, "Unlock the door and I'll be right there. Just let me catch my breath."

"Ok." Al took the keys and went in. In comparison to a few days before, the room was stifling hot. "Your heat's back on."

After another few seconds catching his breath, Sam followed Al into the apartment. "Oh boy. I forgot I'd put the heat up before I realized what was wrong." Going to the thermostat on the wall, he lowered it.

"Well, that explains it."

Sam went into the bedroom and started to pull clothes out of his drawers, tossing them on the bed. He grabbed a duffel bag from the bottom of the closet then realized he'd need two hands to put the clothes in it. "Hey Al, I, uh, I need a hand."

Al came into Sam's room. "I was wondering when you were going to realize you're just human."

"I hope you don't mind," Sam said ignoring the jibe, "I've got enough stuff to last 'til after New Year's. I don't think I want to face those stairs every day so maybe I can stay with you until next week," he rushed out. "I figure it'll start hurting less by then."

"You know you're welcome to stay, Sam." Al started to put Sam's clothing in the bag.

"Well, thanks." Sam watched Al finish packing his clothes into the bag. "Uh, you're not having a New Year's Eve party, are you?" he asked uneasily. "If you are, I really might hide in your bedroom."

"I wasn't planning to," Al said. He'd originally planned on going out that night. Seeing that Sam would be his guest and probably not real keen on doing the town, he made the decision that this year, for the first time in years, he'd watch the ball drop from his couch.

"Well, that's good." Sam pulled another pair of pajamas from one of the drawers and handed it to Al to add. "I kinda like to just make some popcorn and watch movies on New Year's Eve then watch the ball drop." He shrugged slightly and sat on the bed watching as Al finished. "I guess I really am kind of dull. You probably think I don't know how to have fun."

"I've got to admit, you're low key," Al said as he packed the clothing neatly.

"I've never really liked loud parties and stuff."

"Well," Al said as he zipped up the bag. "I guess in that, we're pretty much opposites. I love that kind of thing."

"Well, maybe it's 'cause there's a not a lot of them in Elk Ridge." Sam followed Al out of the bedroom and into the living room area. He looked slowly around the room. "I think I have everything I need until next week."

"Ok. Then let's get back to my place. I have the feeling you're ready for another dose of your meds."

"You read my mind. There's nothing they teach you in med school to prepare you for how painful broken ribs really are." After making sure the heat was down at tolerable level and all the lights were off, Sam followed Al out of the apartment locking the door. He stopped at the top of the stairs looking down them. He had a feeling it was probably going to be even more uncomfortable going down than it was going up.

Before he took the first step down, he heard the voice of Mrs. Simmons calling to him.

"Sam. Merry Christmas!"

Sam stiffly turned to face his elderly neighbor. "Hi, Mrs. Simmons. Did you have a good Christmas?"

As he turned, her eyes grew wide and voice grew motherly. "Ohh...Sam. What happened to you. We're you in an accident?"

As Mrs. Simmons raised her hand to touch his face, Sam pulled back just a little. "I had an...uh...an accident at work. I'm ok, though."

"What happened? Did you fall off a ladder or something?"

Sam didn't want to tell the woman what had happened thinking it would cause her distress. "Um, yeah, something like that." He looked over to Al hoping he could help him come up with a plausible story.

"Sam was stringing lights for a Christmas party for the lab worker's kids," Al said. "He wanted to put some in an area he had to reach to get to and the ladder fell."

Mrs. Simmons looked over at him, pride in her voice. "You're a good boy, Sam. Trying to make things nice for the children."

"I was just doing what I could." Sam felt some guilt to be lying to the woman like this but he didn't think telling her what really happened would be in her best interest. "I just got a little banged up but I'll be good as new in no time. Al's making sure I do what the doctor said. I work with Al," he added realizing the two had never met. "This is Admiral Al Calavicci. Al, this my neighbor, Mrs. Simmons."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am." Al said taking the woman's hand.

Smiling broadly, "Oh, you're Sam's friend. He's mentioned you before."

"Hope what you heard was good," Al said.

"Of course it's been good, Admiral. Sam thinks quite highly of you. I can't tell you how many times he's told me about 'my friend Al'."

As Mrs. Simmons related to Al how he'd talked about him, Sam's face flushed in embarrassment. He chanced a glance over to Al expecting to see the man amused but, instead, was relieved to see that Al seemed touched that he spoke of him so much.

Mrs. Simmons looked at Sam appraisingly taking in the various bruises that marked his face. "He's doing everything he's supposed to, isn't he?"

"Yes. He is," Al confirmed.

"That's good. I should let the two of you go. You look like you need some rest, Sam."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed. "It was good to see you." As he and Al started to walk toward the stairs again, Mrs. Simmons called after Sam again and he turned to her.

"A man came by looking for you earlier," Mrs. Simmons said. From the look on her face, she didn't seem to think much about the man.

"Someone looking for me?" Sam questioned curiously. "Did you get a name?"

"No, I didn't but he was a big man and I think he'd been drinking."

At the description, Sam exchanged looks with Al. "If he comes back, don't talk to him Mrs. Simmons. Just call the police."

Mrs. Simmons tilted her head. "You in trouble, Sam?

"No, Ma'am." Sam licked his lips that had gone suddenly dry and decided to tell the woman the truth about what happened. "He's the one who did this to me. There was no ladder and no lights. I just didn't want to worry you."

Al looked at Sam and then at the older lady sheepishly. "Sorry about telling you tales, Mrs. Simmons. I just didn't think Sam wanted to say anything."

"That man hurt you like this?" Mrs. Simmons said aghast. She reached out again to gently touch Sam's face and this time he let her. "If he did this to you, then he should be in jail. If he comes back, I'll definitely call the police before he can knock on your door again." Her gaze went to Al, "And you better make sure he doesn't hurt him again."

Al nodded. "I will. You have my promise on that."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Simmons, Al keeps his promises. But if he shows up again, call the police and tell them Ron Dawson is here. They're supposed to be arresting him."

The older lady smiled. "It would be my pleasure to help put him behind bars."

"Just don't hurt him," Sam said with a smile. Mrs. Simmons may have been elderly and looked frail but Sam knew there was a feisty woman in there. He wouldn't want to be in Dawson's shoes if he came calling again. Still, he knew she was no match for the man and didn't want her to be injured.

Al noticed that Sam was holding himself stiffly again and figured that he really did need to get back to his place for another dose of his meds. "Um, Sam? I bet you're needing your pain meds again. I think we better be going." He turned to the woman. "It was very nice to meet you, ma'am. Sam's lucky to have a neighbor like you."

"I'm the lucky one," Mrs. Simmons stated. "Sam takes care of me when my son's not around and makes sure I have everything I need." She also noticed Sam's discomfort. "You go on with your friend now so you can start feeling better. I'll keep my eyes out for that hooligan."

Sam nodded his agreement and said goodbye to woman before again going to the stairs. It only took two steps down before he realized he was right, going down was going to be harder. He grunted softly as he stepped down once more then stopped, leaning back against the railing. "You wanna go down in front of me, I'll meet you at the car."

"I'll just put the bag in the car and then I'll be back. Maybe if you leaned on me it wouldn't jar so hard."

Mrs. Simmons bit at her lip. "Maybe you should listen to Admiral Capalicchi, Sam."

"Calavicci, Mrs. Simmons. The name is Calavicci," Al corrected.

Mrs. Simmon's face turned red. "I'm sorry. Old ears, I guess." She smiled at Sam. "Maybe you should listen to Admiral Calavicci, Sam."

Sam took another step down and realized they were probably both right. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll wait here for you."

Al hurried to the car and dropped off Sam's bag before coming back. Mrs. Simmons had stayed with Sam, making suggestions about home remedies for broken bones. Al smiled hearing how the woman wanted to help his friend as much as he did. "Ok, Kid...now just put as much pressure on me as you need to. We'll get you down the stairs in no time."

Even with Al's assistance, getting down the stairs was one of the most painful things Sam could remember doing in his life. He was sure he could feel the ends of the broken bones grinding against each other. By the time they reached the bottom step, he was gritting his teeth and a sheen of sweat covered his face. "Just let me rest for a second," he panted.

"Ok, Kid," Al agreed. Sam's face was nearly devoid of any color and based on his grunts, he knew it had been painful. "I did try to keep you from doing this, you know."

"I know," Sam agreed. "I told you so isn't gonna help."

"I know. I just think sometimes your stubbornness gets in the way and then you end up with something you didn't bargain for."

"Not now, Al," Sam said in a tightly controlled voice. "It's not helping."

Sighing deeply, Al stopped. "Ok. I'm just saying."

"And so am I." Sam pushed away from the wall he was leaning against. "Let's just go, ok."

"Ok." The two made it over to the car and Al helped Sam into the car. He went over to the driver's side to get in.

"I didn't check the mail," Sam said as Al got in the car. "I was going to and forgot about it." He dug his keys out of his pocket and held them out to Al. "Do you mind?"

Al took the keys. "Nope. Don't mind at all." He went to where the mailboxes were and found the one with Sam's apartment number on it. Opening it, he took out the letters and went back to the car with them. "Here you go," he said handing the pile to Sam and then going back around to get into the car.

Sam flipped through the small pile of envelopes. When he got about half way through the pile, there was a single sheet of paper with writing on it. "Oh God," he said after he'd read it. He handed the paper to Al.

Al took the note and read it. "Were going to have to turn this over to the police, Sam."

"He's going to kill me." There was fear in Sam's eyes and voice. "He's going to find me and kill me all because you stopped drinking." His breathing became quick and shallow. "I feel sick, Al," he said urgently.

Al got out of the car again and went around ready to help Sam up. "No. That's not going to happen, Sam." His voice was calm, belying the actual anger he felt. The only way that one would know the depth of his emotions was to know that when Al was at this point, he was like a coiled rattlesnake ready to take perfect aim at the cause of that anger. Right now, that aim was begging him to go after Dawson himself.

"How do you know," Sam gasped out. He wrapped his arms around his chest, still panting. "I can't breathe."

With a gravelly voice that spoke volumes of how he felt, Al answered, "Because if Dawson takes one step in your direction, he's going to have to go through me first and I can promise you, he'll regret it." He leaned down into the car and rubbed his hands up Sam's shoulders. "Calm down, Kid. I know this has got you rattled but you need to calm down."

"Help me," Sam begged catching hold of Al's hand and squeezing hard. He felt as if he couldn't get a good breath and he was becoming lightheaded.

Knowing he had to give Sam's lungs space to breath, Al pulled him up, holding him so that he wouldn't totter over before catching his breath. "I'm here, Sam. I'll be here whenever you need me. Just try to calm down, Kid and breathe slow. You're hyperventilating. That's why you can't breathe."

Sam was grateful for the hold Al kept on him. He did his best to try to bring his breathing under control knowing it was the only way he could get rid of the suffocating feeling. Eventually, his breathing did slow and he was able to pull in as deep a breath as he could despite the pain it generated.

Feeling as well as hearing Sam calm, Al allowed him to pull away. "It's going to be ok, Sam. You've got to believe that. Dawson's going to be caught and with the way he's been acting, no judge is going to let him out again."

"I know. It just got to me. No one's ever hated me like this." Sam rubbed his hand across his face. Even though it was easier to breathe, he still felt a little light-headed and now his chest was extremely painful. He leaned back against the car letting it support him.

"You can't let it get to you, Kid. You've got to be tougher and smarter than they are..." He pointed to his forehead, "...Up here."

"I'll try," Sam promised. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah. Let's get you back to my place." He helped Sam back into the car again and this time, once behind the wheel was able to start the car and aim his hood towards his home.

Once they arrived, Al again came around to help Sam out of the car. As he provided his hand to pull him up, he could see the strain on the kid's face. "There's a pill with your name on it inside."

"Uh huh," Sam agreed. He was concentrating on getting into the apartment by moving his torso as little as possible. Each time he did, it felt a knife going through his chest. "Don't want to go to bed."

Al looked at him confused. "What does one have to do with the other?"

"I don't want to go to bed. I feel like I just got up a little while ago." Sam waited by the door for Al to unlock it. "I'll take the pain med...I want to take it...I just don't want to go to bed 'cause I took it."

Al chuckled. "Only you, Sam." Al got the door opened. "I'll get the bottle for you."

Sam was just lowering himself down to the couch when Al came back with the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. "I don't want to spend the day in bed," he explained picking up in the conversation where they'd left off. "If I do, I won't want to sleep tonight." He accepted the pill Al held out to him, swallowing it with some of the water. "I hope that works as fast as it did this morning."

"Sure made you loopy," Al said smiling.

"I'll take loopy over the alternative." Sam grimaced as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position. He grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it to his chest using it as a brace. "I'm not moving again until that pill works," he said once he'd gotten as comfortable as he could.

"Well...I'll wait until you're feeling ok and then I'm going down to the police station and turn in that note." He paused. "On the way home I could pick up some Chinese or something."

"Chinese sounds good," the younger man agreed. "You don't have to wait. I'll be ok by myself. Just...just make sure the door's locked, ok." He paused for a moment then suggested, "Do you want to get a pizza instead and maybe we can get Chinese for New Year's Eve?"

"Is that a tradition with you?"

"What? Pizza or getting death threats?" Sam tried to keep humor in his voice but had a feeling he'd failed miserably.

Al sat down beside Sam, angling himself to look his friend in the eyes. "This has got you really spooked, hasn't it?"

"I guess you could say that." Sam slouched down as much as he comfortably could, resting his head on the back of the couch, and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm just not sure what to make of all this. Like I said, no one's ever hated me before. People have disliked me but never outright hated me." He turned his head so he could see his friend. "It's a little scary knowing there's someone who'd be happy to know you were dead."

"Yeah. I guess I felt the same way the first time that happened," Al mused. He seemed to consider something before going to the credenza next to the front door.

"First time what happened?" Sam called after Al.

"First time someone hated me enough to want me dead," Al replied as he walked back to the couched with a zipped leather pouch.

"What's that," Sam asked curiously seeing what Al had in his hand. "And who wanted you dead?"

"To answer the last first, I was a freedom fighter in the South, Kid. I guarantee, there were a number of people that didn't want anything to change in the life of the southern blacks…or whites. But it was time for the status quo to end. I had a few crosses burned on the lawn of the houses I stayed in. Got more death threats than I'd like to think about. Then there was Vietnam..." He stopped there. "As to this," he said holding the pouch and unzipping it, "it's one of my guns. I'm going to leave it here with you." He looked at the bottle of pain meds. "Although, maybe I shouldn't."

"No," Sam answered quickly and firmly. "I don't want it. Just put it back where you had it."

"Ok," Al agreed hearing the firmness in Sam's voice. He wanted to argue with him but didn't think this was one he'd win. "I'll put it back but I want you to know where it is. I doubt if Dawson's coming here but if he does, I want you to have some way to protect yourself." He looked grim. "I doubt with those ribs your martial arts are going to help you much."

"No," Sam repeated stubbornly. " I'm not going to use a gun so just let it go."

"Like I said, I doubt you'd need to." He looked Sam squarely in the eyes. "But if something happened, you're going to tell me you wouldn't do anything? You'd just let Dawson win?"

"I...I don't know," Sam responded uncertainly. "I don't want to be responsible for taking a life even if it means..." He trailed off unable to finish the thought. "Put it away, please. I don't want to have to make that choice."

"I told you, I'll put it away." He went back the credenza and put the gun back where he'd pulled it out. "It'll stay right there. Just keep in mind what I'd have to tell Katie and your mother if that bastard was able to make good on his threat. I don't think you'll have to face that, but it's better to be prepared for something than not."

"I told you, I'm not going to use it." Sam said adamantly. "Besides," he continued as he stifled a yawn, "the codeine's starting to work. I'd probably point it the wrong way and shoot myself." He rubbed his hand over his face and forced his eyes open wide. "Feels like I'm starting to float again."

Al was somewhat worried by this confession. He'd been able to handle a weapon even when he was wasted. He figured it would be the same for Sam. "I'm just going to ask you one thing. You ever shoot a firearm before?"

"I've gone hunting," Sam said around a yawn. "Dad taught me how to fire a rifle."

"Then you wouldn't shoot yourself, Sam, drugs or not. Hunters have too much respect for a weapon to use it incorrectly."

"Al, right now I'm not sure what's up and what's down," Sam sighed. "Everything's getting blurry right now so can we just talk about this later." He started to list to the side. "I think I just want to lie down for a while."

"Yeah, Kid. That's a good idea," Al agreed with a small smile as he saw that once again the painkiller was having a strong effect on his friend. He went into the bedroom and pulled a pillow and blanket off the bed. As much as Sam had said he didn't want to go to sleep, he figured that was going to happen. When he walked back in, Sam was lying on his side. "Hey, Kid, let me put this pillow under your head."

"Mmm...yeah...pillow." Now that it had started to work the drug was really making itself felt. Sam didn't do anything to aid Al in putting the pillow under him but remained relaxed when the older man lifted his head to put the pillow in place. "Blanket," he suggested sleepily.

"Yeah...got one right here." Al gently spread out the blanket covering the other man with it. "I won't be gone long, Sam."

'K," Sam breathed out before giving into the sleep that beckoned him.

Al looked at the sleeping man. He bit the inside of his lip. Sam had said that he wouldn't use the gun and as drugged as the kid was, Al figured that was the most likely situation.

He considered whether he should leave. He could stay until the younger man woke up but the note had said that Dawson was going to get Sam and had inferred there would be little left to identify. No. He needed to take this to the police and take it now. Besides, Dawson most likely didn't know where Sam was.

He picked up his car keys and the note and headed out the door. He figured he'd be back in less than an hour and that nothing would happen in that short a time. He chuckled at himself. "I'm way too paranoid." With that, he went out to run his errands.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

When he woke, Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping. He'd never really fallen into a deep sleep but had, instead, been dozing since Al left. It was the sound of someone fumbling at the door that brought him awake. When the sound continued, he began to grow worried and called out for Al hoping he'd come back already but there was no answer.

Sam realized that if Dawson came in, he'd probably kill him. Further, he knew he wasn't in any shape to fight him off. Faced with the decision of dying at the hands of the crazed psycho and taking some action, Sam decided that just maybe the gun that Al had suggested wasn't such a bad idea. After all, the threat of it might be enough to hold the crazed man off until he could get some help. He got up, reeling dizzily with the drugs still in his system. He went to the credenza and pulled out the weapon. He held it up pointed at the door just as the lock finally disengaged and whoever was on the other side of the door walked in.

"Sam!" Al exclaimed as he came through the door and saw the gun pointed his way. "It's me, Kid. Don't shoot," he said in as calm a voice as he could muster. He didn't know how good of a shot Sam was but even if he was a bad shot, the gun was pointed squarely at his chest and Sam was too close not do some damage. It would be damn near impossible for Sam to miss. "Put the gun down, Sam," he said slowly.

"Al?" Sam questioned as he quickly dropped his arm, the gun still in his hand. "Oh God, I almost shot you." He was shaking as he said it, the adrenaline that had primed him to take a stand now draining quickly away

Burdened by a pizza box and a plastic bag with groceries, Al made his way quickly over to Sam once the gun was no longer pointed at him. He put the bag on the floor and placed the box on the credenza then took the gun from Sam's hand. "It's ok, Sam. I probably just scared you when I couldn't get the door to open." He looked quickly at the gun and noticed that the safety was still on. Even if he'd wanted to, Sam wouldn't have been able to fire.

"I could have killed you," Sam said still shaken by what had almost happened.

"No, you wouldn't have." Al showed the gun to Sam. "The safety was still on. You couldn't have hurt me or anyone else with this." It occurred to Al then that had Sam actually needed the weapon to protect himself, it wouldn't have done him much good. He put a steadying hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Maybe you were right and I shouldn't have shown you where it was – at least not without making sure you really did know how to use it." He moved Sam over to the couch and they both sat down. Al then put the gun down on the coffee table. "Even if you've shot firearms before, every weapon's different and it wasn't right to leave you with a gun you knew almost nothing about. I'm sorry, Kid."

Sam laughed at Al's apology although it was humorless and more a release of tension. "You're sorry? I could have given you a new hole in your body and you're sorry?"

"Yeah," Al said, his voice dripping honesty, " I'm sorry. If Dawson had come in, all I gave you was a false sense of security."

"I didn't even want the gun, remember" Sam looked at the weapon on credenza and shuddered. "Now do you see why? I panicked and that's why I pulled it out of the credenza. That's not a reason to ever use a gun."

"I do see, Sam. I should have listened to you."

"You will now." Sam had no doubt that after this incident his friend wouldn't question him on his feelings about having a weapon again. Nodding over to the credenza he asked, "What kind of pizza did you get?" changing the subject to something safer.

Al looked at the box and got up to retrieve it, glad that Sam was ready to move on. "Well, every time we've gotten pizza in the past, you've always asked for something different so I didn't know for sure. I decided to play it safe and get pepperoni and cheese."

"Pepperoni and cheese is good. We should eat it before it gets cold."

Al agreed and put the box down on the table. "I'll get the plates." Al went into the kitchen, opened the cabinet and pulled down two plates. He then went and got a couple of forks. Placing them on the table as well, he asked, "Coke ok to drink?"

"Yeah, that's ok." Holding one of the throw pillows to his chest as a brace for his ribs, Sam slowly got up from the couch. He was going to toss the pillow back to the couch when he was standing but decided to keep it with him. If he used it to brace his ribs again, he'd be able to sit down without needing help. "Smells good."

Al retrieved the two-liter bottle and a couple of glasses with ice. He noticed Sam holding the pillow. "That's a good idea."

"Yeah, well, I figure this way I don't have to keep asking you for help." Sam slowly sat down doing his best to hold back any sounds of pain. The pillow as a brace really did help and he wished he'd thought of it earlier. When Al put the filled glass of Coke in front of him, he picked it up and took a sip grimacing slightly at the taste of the soft drink.

"Has it gone flat?" Al asked seeing the sour look on Sam's face.

"No, it's not flat. I just usually drink diet. Guess I'm not used to how the regular stuff tastes."

"Well why didn't you say so? We have some diet left from the party. Let me get you that instead." He reached over and took Sam's glass and went back into the kitchen to change it out. As he walked into the room, the phone rang. Al wondered if Dawson would call his place again. This latest nightmare had started with that. "Hello," he answered cautiously. A moment later Al looked at Sam. It's for you."

"I don't suppose it reaches over here, does it?" Al was right; he was comfortable and didn't want to have to get up if he didn't have to. Sam also couldn't imagine who would be calling him here. Other than his family, he didn't think anyone else knew to reach him at this number.

"I'll try," Al said. He pulled the phone over as far as he could. "It's the police. They called here because I told them today when I took them the note that we'd be here."

"Can you find out what they want?" Sam licked his lips that had suddenly gone dry. He had a bad feeling that they weren't calling with good news.

Al gave that a try but the police indicated that they needed to talk with Sam. "They insist on talking to you, Kid," he said, holding out the phone.

"Ok." Sam slowly got up from the table and moved to where Al was still holding the phone. He took it and held it to his ear, took a deep breath, and said hello. After confirming that he was Sam Beckett, he listened as the person on the other end spoke. "That's good to hear," he said when the person on the line finished speaking. "Thank you for calling." After saying goodbye, he handed the phone to Al to hang up. "She said they arrested Dawson about an hour ago. It's all over." As he told Al what the call was about, a wave of relief came over him. He moved the few steps necessary to get back to the table and sat hard on the chair. "It's over," he repeated again

"That's great, Kid!" Al exclaimed. "With all they have against him, he'll be lucky if he sees the light of day for awhile."

"She said he's being arraigned tomorrow morning." Sam eyes grew hard. "I want to go. I want to be there."

Seeing Sam's demeanor morph, Al agreed, "Ok, Sam. We'll do that." He wanted to support his friend in every way.

"It's at 9:00 at the courthouse. She said I didn't have to go, but I want to. I want him to know I'm not afraid of him."

"Ok. I suggest we get to bed early tonight so you'll be rested as well."

Agreeing to the suggestion, the two men finished their dinner, watched a little TV and then went to bed. Sam suggested that with the pain meds, sleeping on the couch would be much easier but Al told him that he didn't have a problem with Sam keeping the bed while he was mending. That settled, the night went by without any problems. The pain meds assured that Sam slept well and since Al didn't need to get up, he too rested.

********************

The next morning, they got up early enough for both of them to get ready and were at the courthouse a full 20 minutes before the arraignments started.

The area for the public was sparsely populated. Sam and Al took a seat in the middle of the area. When the arraignment started, everyone rose as the Judge entered the room. After that, there were six arraignments ranging from theft to public drunkenness and DUIs before Dawson was brought in. He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and had an angry look on his face. Having scanned the courtroom, he saw Sam. He was about to say something when his lawyer stopped him.

The charges against Dawson were read and he was asked to enter his plea. Sam wasn't surprised when he entered a plea of not guilty. He now knew that the man was psychotic enough to actually think he'd done no wrong.

After the plea had been entered, the assistant district attorney motioned that bail should be denied. To support the motion, he introduced the note that had been left in Sam's mail as well as the phone call Sam had received and the fact that Mrs. Simmons had seen Dawson at the apartment building. Dawson's lawyer tried to argue that bail should be set. In the end, the judge agreed with the ADA and bail was denied on the grounds that it was probable that if Dawson were free, he could pose a threat to Sam.

Before being lead out, Dawson made it clear the Judge had made the correct call. This time he didn't listen to his lawyer but called out into the room, "You bastard. Look what you've done. I swear, I'll get you..." The bailiff moved quickly to assure that order was maintained and Dawson was pulled out of the courtroom quickly.

Up until Dawson's threat, the arraignment proceedings had been both faster and more anti-climactic than Sam had believed they'd be. Dawson's threat brought unwanted attention his way as all eyes in courtroom were now aimed at him. "Let's get out of here," he asked in a voice loud enough for only Al to hear.

Al, at this point disgusted that he'd obviously been so tied to the bottle that he'd once thought of the man as his friend, quickly agreed. "Yeah. Let's go."

The two men moved quickly from the courtroom and back to Al's car. "He's nuts," Sam said concisely as he got in the car.

"Yeah." Al said. He was quiet as he got the car on the road and then for a while after that before finally saying, "I'm sorry I got you into this, Sam."

"You didn't get me into anything," Sam assured. He didn't hold his friend responsible for anything that had happened and wanted to make sure he understood that. "The fact that Ron Dawson is violent and likes to prey on people he thinks are weaker than him has nothing to do with you. Whether or not we were friends, I think this still would have happened so don't blame yourself."

"Thanks. I still can't believe that I was so blind to what he was really like." He laughed lightly and humorlessly. "When I was drinking, I guess I wasn't the best judge of things. I can see now why they were ready to toss me to the curb."

"Maybe," Sam agreed, "But that's not who you are now. You've made major changes. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." He turned slightly in the seat so he could face Al better. It was important to him that his friend understand what he was saying. "You've always been a great guy. It was just hidden for a while. Don't you ever think you were anything like Dawson. Even with all the booze, you'd never have done what he did. Never!"

Al looked over at Sam gratefully. "No. I don't think I could be that way. Still, it took someone pretty astute to see through what I'd become. I'm not sure I've ever thanked you enough for what you did."

Sam looked down feeling suddenly shy. "Sure you have," he said softly. "You offered me your friendship, you took me in this past week when I needed a place to stay, you've been taking care of me the last two days - you've thanked me plenty."

"Well, all that may be, Sam, but I'm telling you now, it doesn't feel like enough." The conversation had turned more sentimental than he'd expected and he changed the subject. "You know, we never did have breakfast. What do you say if we go out and grab a bite? I know this little diner that serves up the best huevos rancheros in the state."

"That sounds good," Sam agreed. He looked at his watch to see what time it was. He'd had to have Al put it on for him this morning and was still trying to get used to it being on his right wrist instead of his left. "We should have enough time before I need to be at the hospital to get the cast."

Al nodded. "Ok." They pulled into the parking lot of the diner and went in. A rather buxom blonde came over to seat them. "Hi Al. Long time no see." She gave Sam a glance. "You're new."

Some thing about the woman made Sam distinctly uncomfortable. "Um, yeah, I guess so."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. New's not bad. Just that I've never seen you before." She got a couple of menus and took them to a booth. "You want coffee?"

"Could I get some tea?" Sam asked as he took the menu handed to him.

"Coffee for me," Al said. "How are the kids, Terisa?"

Terisa wrote down their drink orders. "They're fine. Linda sang a solo at her school's Christmas show. Betty's good too." She paused. "They miss you, Al."

"Yeah. It just wasn't working, Terisa. You know that."

She answered sadly, "Yeah. I know." She smiled. "I'll get your drinks." With that, the waitress turned and left.

Sam watched the waitress walk away. "Kids? Is she one of your...you have kids? How come you never told me that? Didn't you say you didn't have kids?"

Al tilted his head, at first confused by Sam's statement. As comprehension dawned, he smiled, shaking his head. "No. The kids aren't mine. I just dated Terisa for awhile. I got to know the kids during that time."

"Oh, I thought when she was…I mean it sounded like…" Sam shook his head slightly at his mistake. "I guess I just assumed and I shouldn't have."

"I don't have any kids, Sam. At times I wish I did but it just never seemed to be the right time."

"Kids are great," Sam said fondly thinking about his niece and nephew. "I hope I have some of my own one day."

"Well, find the right woman and then don't wait until you're settled in one place. That was my mistake."

"No worries there. As soon as I can afford it, I'm buying my own house and putting down roots." Sam smiled his thanks as Terisa brought over their tea and coffee. "That just leaves finding the right woman and maybe she's closer than I think."

Terisa pulled out her pad. "Do you know what you want?"

Al handed the menu to her. "Huevos Rancheros, just like always."

She smiled. "Yeah. You've always been consistent, Al." She turned to Sam. "And for you?"

"I'll have the French toast, please, and a side order of bacon." Sam handed the menu to the waitress. "Thanks."

She took down the order and left. "What do you mean, Sam?" Al asked as soon as the waitress was away from the table.

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Sam asked as he doctored his tea then took a sip from it.

"You said that maybe the right woman's closer than you think."

"Oh. Just, you never know who's out there. For all I know, I could be working with the woman I'm going to marry. You just never know," he repeated with a smile as he thought about Donna Elessee.

"Yeah. I guess that could happen." The two men continued to talk during breakfast. It was an easy conversation and it was obvious to anyone watching them that they were friends. After they'd finished and paid, Al patted Sam on the back, "Now, let's get you to the doctor's and get that wrist taken care of."

Sam looked down to his splinted wrist. "Yeah, then at least I'll be able to use it a little more." He got up and followed Al out the door. "I bet when you offered to let me stay with you last week you didn't think all this was going to happen."

"You're right, Kid, I didn't," he admitted. "But if you take Dawson out of the picture, it really has been a pretty good week."

"It has," Sam quickly agreed. The two men walked slowly to the car and got in. "I've gotta admit, it wasn't quite like any Christmas I've had in the past but it was good. I had a lot fun decorating the tree with you."

"Yeah. That was fun. We'll have to make it a tradition," Al said as he aimed the car towards the doctors.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I'd like that. We'll have to sing some Christmas carols, too and remember, next year you're coming to Hawaii with me."

Al grinned. "Well...that's assuming you can still put up with me in a year."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem – especially if you keep cooking like you do. I haven't had a home-cooked meal since the last time I was home. You're almost as good as Mom is."

"From the way you talk, that's a high compliment."

The rest of the ride was quiet, but both men felt happy with the way things were and both looked forward to what the future would bring them. Their friendship had gotten off to an odd start but it was a secure friendship . They both took comfort knowing that not only would there be someone there to help through the hard times but there'd also be someone there to cheer during the good times.

/QLQL The Beginning QLQL\


End file.
