Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Love is lovelier, the second time around,
Just as wonderful, with both feet on the ground,
It's that second time you hear your love song sung,
Makes you think perhaps that love, like youth,
Is wasted on the young." 1
 

April 4, 2000
 
Sam came home.
 
After nearly five years of quantum leaping, helping every Joe Average who crossed his path, putting right what once had gone wrong, Sam finally came home.
 
To his wife.
 
Donna.
 
The same Donna who stood him up at the altar. The same Donna who broke his heart. The same Donna who almost crushed his spirit, and destroyed his soul.
 
Yeah, that Donna.
 
I couldn't blame him, really. She WAS a good-looking woman. And smart. And funny. And so, so . . . aw, fuck . . . NICE, dammit! Not at all like the clingy, whiny, scheming, mistrustful, manipulative bitch I remember from the other timeline. Whatever had transpired in her life once Sam reunited her with her father was definitely for the better. She was a changed person. This Donna was a good wife, and a loyal companion, and she made him happy.
 
And that made me happy.
 
I think.
 
He doesn't remember us. Us being him and me. Together. Lovers. For nine years, before he made his first leap, and I lost him to time. And to her.
 
He doesn't remember the first timeline, when we waited together at the Old Mission Chapel, for a bride-to-be who was never going to arrive. Or the reception at Scalio's, for the wedding-that-never-was. He doesn't remember the limo ride back to his condo, when we first voiced our feelings for each other. Or the night of passion that followed. He doesn't remember the 'honeymoon' to Jamaica – two weeks of sun, sand, and great (make that, phenomenal) sex. Or the commitment ceremony we performed upon our return – a whirlwind romance if ever there was one.
 
Not that I could complain. I had Tina. Then again, so did a lot of people. She wasn't exactly the monogamous type. But I didn't mind . . . neither was I. We had an open (a VERY open) relationship, and that suited us both fine. Some people might've thought it weird, or even perverted, but there was nothing kinky or tawdry about it at all. After all, we were happy. We knew where we stood with each other, never demanding more from it than there was, or trying to change one another – two peas in a pod. We were always there for each other, and that's all that was important.
 
Christina Kiara Alanna O'Farrell. Jeez Louise, what a name! And what a woman! She 'showed up' at the Project during the Donna leap. If Donna's sudden appearance in my life wasn't shocking enough, the gorgeous strawberry blonde with the red bee-stung lips, huge deep blue eyes, and the generous rack, was enough to send any man into coronary arrest. Not just any man. Me. (Her heart of gold was something else I would soon discover.)
 
In this timeline, she was my girlfriend – emphasis on 'girl'. She just celebrated her 27th birthday last month. It wasn't much of stretch to say she was young enough to be my granddaughter, for Christ's sake, though I tried not to think about that too much. I may have been pushing 65, but I was a SPRITELY 65, and I could handle anything that girl could dish out. Well, almost anything.
 
At first, I didn't know what to do with her. Okay, I knew WHAT to do, I just didn't know if I should be doing it. I mean, I was a happily married man, patiently waiting for my husband to return. I was determined not to do to him what Beth had done to me.
 
Tina knew something was wrong – said I changed after that 'Donna' leap. Well, of COURSE I changed. Sam had turned my world upside down. One minute, I was a lonely, faithful spouse – the next, I was a lone wolf, the old lady-killer I had always been. That was the man Tina knew and lusted for . . . not the bewildered, confused man who suddenly found this beauty in his life. I only remembered the first timeline, not the new one that everyone else remembered – the one where I had been Tina's squeeze for over a year and a half. I kept putting her off, turning down her invitations and outright demands; managed to avoid the whole sex situation for more than five weeks.
 
But Tina was persistent; I'll give her that. The 'not tonight, dear, I have a headache' excuses only lasted so long before she decided she had had enough. She wanted her Tiger back, and went about setting up a seduction scene so hot I challenge any man, dead or alive, not to have succumbed to it.
 
One night, after I had arrived back from a stressful trip to Washington, she greeted me at the door of my Project apartment. My eyes popped outta my head at the outfit she was almost wearing: a white peignoir, tied with one tiny little pink bow across her ample chest. The see-thru lacy negligee reached her knees, but it was open completely up the front, showing off her teeny, tiny matching white lace G-string; 4-inch furry mule slippers presented her shapely legs to optimum effect. She stood there, her silky hair cascading down to her shoulders; in her left hand she held a condom, in her right, a bottle of Advil.
 
Headache? What headache?
 
We 'renewed' our affair, right there, on the floor near the front door. The girl was sexual dynamite, but there was something else, something almost sweet and tender underneath the fiery inferno that consumed me. I realized that whatever we were to each other in this timeline, she genuinely cared about me – much as I found myself caring about her. My brain may not have remembered this special lady, but my heart seemed to. I helped her to her feet, and led her into the bedroom.
 
We didn't leave the bed for three days.
 
I felt a little guilty at first. Hell, A LOT guilty. I had to keep reminding myself that this was an alternate reality, one Sam had created, and we weren't married this time around. He had a loving, devoted wife now, and because of that, I had apparently continued with my tomcatting ways. Tina was just the latest in a long line of girlfriends – but, as the weeks, then months, then years passed, without Sam coming home, I discovered she was definitely the best.
 
And not just because of the sex, which was great. Better than great. Shit, better than THAT, even. I liked Tina. I mean, I REALLY liked her. And believe you me, that's a lot harder to do than to love someone. She wasn't just a lover. She was also a friend. A pal. A bud. I could take her to a ballgame, and I didn't have to spend five innings explaining the infield-fly rule. She hated 'chick flicks', favoring the latest Adam Sandler comedy instead. A girl who preferred Frederick's to Bloomingdale's – cheeseburgers and Dr. Pepper to caviar and champagne. A lady neither impressed by my accomplishments, nor blind to my faults; a woman not interested in trying to change me or possess me – just accepting and tolerant of me. She was intelligent, and witty, and sensitive, and she never pestered me about 'her needs'. A righteous babe of the highest order.
 
But . . . she wasn't Sam.
 
I felt a little less guilt-ridden about my 'cheating' after Sam's first leap home, when I knew he remembered Donna and the life they had back here at the Project. The one where I was just his partner and best friend, not his lover. After that, I gave up the fantasy that he would ever be mine again, and just went with the flow. What good was pining for a man who, even if he ever made it home again, was not coming home to you?
 
Still, no matter what had happened or what he had done to transform our lives, I couldn't help but love him. In my heart, he was the only one for me. To me, he would always be my soul mate, and nothing would ever change that.
 
And Tina knew. How could she not? Hard to deny it after I called his name out in bed. Once. It happened once, okay? But once was enough. Dear, sweet Tina. I thought I was going to get tossed out on my ear for that one – woulda deserved it, too – but no. We DID have a long talk that night, though, and she managed to wrangle the whole story from me. She didn't seem all that surprised by everything I told her; she said she should have known something was wrong, that I had seemed 'strange' to her for a while, but just put it down to 'a mid-life crisis or something'.
 
Odd thing is, our relationship got even better after that. See, Tina had no desire to settle down. She had too much love to give, and enjoyed giving it to whoever she deemed worthy. With me already 'spoken for', she had no fears that I'd get weird and suddenly demand something more serious from her. She was free to live her life, and that made her happy.
 
And she made me happy. And Gooshie. Oh, yes, I knew she was sleeping with Gooshie. And Verbena, too. The girl didn't discriminate against race or gender. I told you, she had a lot of love to give, and wanted to give it to her friends. And their relatives. That's how Tom Beckett, Sam's very-much-alive brother, and current military liaison, ended up on Tina's dance card. I guess it should have creeped me out that she was 'doing it' with my lover's brother, but I knew he had some pretty heavy duty personal problems, not the least of which he was missing his little bro terribly. Tina hated to see anyone hurting, or sad.
 
It was almost eerie the way she had of instantly knowing when someone needed her, and BANG! There she'd be, waiting for you with a friendly smile, a kind word, and a loving hug. You'd be talking to her, her words soothing you, and the next thing you'd know, you were both naked as the day you were born and she'd be working her magic on you, her body seemingly absorbing all your tension and pain. Then, she'd be gone, as mysteriously as she had arrived, your stress leaving with her – and you'd feel good again. Worn out, but damn good.
 
Better therapy that a month at Club Med.
 
The longer Sam was gone, the more we all came to depend on these precious moments of relief, when our problems could be forgotten for a little while in the arms of our own personal angel of mercy. God/Fate/Time may have taken Sam from us, but had given us Tina in his place. And for that, we were all grateful.
 
Perhaps the biggest shock of all was the day I saw Donna with the same blissful smile as Bena or Gooshie had after a 'meeting' with Tina. I almost didn't believe my eyes, but there was no denying that look, one of pure euphoria. At first I was angry and filled with outrage. How DARE she cheat on Sam?! Then again, I guess that was the pot calling the kettle black, huh?
 
And I really couldn't blame her. After all, he had been gone nearly four years by that point, and she had been celibate the whole time, except for that one night of passion when Sam had come home to her, only to leave her again when my life was in danger. That must've been difficult for her. (I know I couldn't IMAGINE having sex only once in four years!) And a woman's got desires too, right? She was still attractive and sexy. She could have had just about any man she wanted. But she stayed loyal to Sammy, and didn't stray.
 
Well, only as far as Tina's door.
 
Then, ten weeks ago, right after New Year's Day, everything changed. Ziggy announced that Sam had landed, so we all took our positions, ready to deal with whatever was about to be thrown at us this time. Only this wasn't a normal leap. (Hell, was ANY leap 'normal'?) When I arrived in Control, it was to find a group of personnel clustered around an unconscious Sam in the Accelerator Chamber; I was almost run over by the Med team as they came charging in behind me. As they were wheeling him out on the gurney, his eyes cracked open, and he gurgled, "Aaalll…"
 
I was on him like white on rice. Clasping his hand, I smiled down on him. He seemed startled that we were actually touching, but he adapted quickly, practically crushing my hand in his. I ran along side, holding his hand like a lifeline, until we reached the door of the room.
 
And he was gone.
 
My heart filled with hopeful joy. My lover was finally home! And he had called out for me! ME!! I knew it was just a matter of time. He'd remember everything, and soon he'd be back in my arms, then back in my bed. I'd be able to hold him and kiss him and love him, just as I had done before he leaped. Everything was going to end happily ever after.
 
The next few hours were really scary, not knowing if he was all right, not knowing what the hell was going on down in Medical. I must've smoked a week's worth of cigars before Bena and the rest of the crew emerged. Sam was fine, healthy as a horse, awake . . . and asking for Donna.
 
Until that day, I didn't believe a person could die of a broken heart, but Goddammit, I almost died right then and there. Four whole years of waiting for Sam to come back to me, and it was all in vain. He still only remembered this timeline. Donna was his significant other, not me. I took a deep breath, turned on my heel, and headed for the nearest bar to finish the job I had started so many years ago. Might as well – what was the point in living anymore?
 
Should've known I couldn't hide forever from Tina. It took her awhile, a couple of bottles anyway, but she managed to track me down. Without a word, she paid for my drinks, took me outside, piled me into her Mazda Miata, and drove me home. There, she nursed me, and cleaned me up when I needed it, never once yelling at me, lecturing me or asking me why. I was a mess, and all she did was lovingly care for me, even going so far as to cover for me back at the Project, telling them that I was staying home because I needed 'some down time'.
 
A few days later, when I was feeling like myself again, I wandered into the kitchen, said I was sorry, promised I'd never do something so stupid again, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.
 
The whole incident has not been mentioned since.
 
So, for the past three months, I've tried to pretend that everything is perfect. Sam and I work on our wrap up reports and analyses of the leaps, side by side, like in the good old days. Sam goes home every night to Donna; I go home every night to my Babydoll. Since Sam's leap home, there's very little anxiety at the Project, so Tina has been relieved of her 'angel of mercy' duties. I have her all to myself, and a good thing, too. Lord knows I need someone watching over me.
 
The hardest part is dealing with Donna. In this timeline, we've always been friends. But I can still see her that day in Sam's kitchen, the day after she dumped him at the altar as she ripped into both of us with her words and actions. It's hard to forget, but in order to fit in, I've had to try. For the most part, I've succeeded.
 
Guess Sam wasn't the only one adept at pretending.
 
The sad thing is nothing has changed about my friendship with Sammy. We're still closer than brothers, we still laugh, we still spend every spare minute together. But Donna – now secure in herself and her love for Sam – doesn't bitch about it anymore. And, of course, there's no nookie between me and Beckett.
 
I try not to think about it. I try to just forget about it. After all, that timeline never existed, right? This is the only reality that counts. Sam's home. And that's all that matters.
 
But of course I can't stop thinking about it. I can't forget about it. I still love him. And I still want him. And every moment that I spend with him, and I can't take him into my arms and tell him how much I love him is killing me, minute by minute.
 
Today was exceptionally bad – he hugged me in the Control Room. Everyone was there: Tina, Gooshie, Donna, the whole crew. And Sam just walked right up, wrapped his arms around me, and squeezed me to death. Nothing sexual, just a typical friendly Beckett bear hug, the kind we shared for years and years. He's done it a lot since leaping home, and at first, I accepted them greedily, just reveling in the fact we could finally touch again.
 
But now, those hugs are painful to me. Knowing that they'll never mean what they used to cuts me to my soul. I found an excuse to head off to my office, and made my way there, post haste.
 
That's where Tina found me, sitting at my desk in the dark, puffing on a cigar and trying hard (VERY hard) not to break down in tears.
 
Even in the darkened room, with just the pale light coming through the open door from the corridor, I could see the concern on her pretty face as she chewed on her lower lip, and whispered, "Al?" in that breathy, Marilyn Monroe voice of hers. Standing there in a pink V-necked fuzzy sweater and short pleated red skirt, her hair tied up in a ponytail with a matching red ribbon, she looked even younger than her years. Without a word, she started walking towards me, slowly unbuttoning her sweater along the way.
 
By the time she had reached me, all the buttons were undone, her creamy white breasts heaving within a black satin underwire bra. A small whimper caught in my throat as she gracefully straddled my chair, planting herself in my lap. She looked at me for a moment or two, sympathy flooding those sparkling sapphire blue eyes of hers, before pulling my head down onto her pillowy chest.
 
I lost myself in the haven of her soft embrace, and the smell of her silky skin. She sat there rocking me gently, simply holding me, comforting me; her hands, as they stroked my shoulders and back, brought a soothing calm in their wake. Kissing the top of my head, she sighed, "Oh, honey, it'll be alright. Look at the bright side – you still have me."
 
That brought a smile to my face; she always knew just what to say. "Yeah, and that makes me one lucky bastard."
 
Tilting my head back, I discovered she was smiling as well. "I'm pretty lucky myself," she whispered, before claiming my mouth for her own.

 
TINA:
 
"C'mon, Tiger . . . take me home."
 
I stood, and pulled him to his feet. He was so sad. And in so much pain. The last few days have been bad ones, and then, just now, after seeing what happened in Control, I knew he needed me. I felt my heart contract at his sorrow – a hurting Al was always hard to handle. He'd been through so much in his life, the last thing he needed was more heartache.
 
He needed his lover. He needed Sam.
 
But Sam was with Donna now. And all I could offer him was some TLC . . . .
 
Tina Loving Care.
 
Re-buttoning my vintage angora sweater and watching pensively as he walked over to coat rack in the corner to retrieve his jacket, I reflected back on how we had gotten to this point in our lives.
 

 
I was 21 years old and fresh out of college when I arrived on the doorstep of Project Quantum Leap. Armed with just a very sparse resume, and a glowing recommendation from my advisor (who had also pulled some major strings to get me the interview), I found myself face to face with a living, breathing wet dream – Dr. Samuel Beckett. I almost swooned when I saw him in the flesh, and not on one of the dozens of photos I had hanging up in my college dorm room.
 
Okay, so most girls had Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt decorating their walls – I had Sam Beckett. He was a total hunk, and an absolute GOD to the world of physics. Even though physics was not my field of study, I became a 'fan' after seeing his picture gracing the cover of Time Magazine, when he was named 'Man of the Year', and dubbed 'The Next Einstein'. What can I say? Brainy men turn me on – and this brainy man was a serious F-O-X! Standing there, shaking my hand and thanking me for coming, he was sexier still.
 
It took everything I had not to come off as a blubbering idiot, but he was as friendly and easy going as he was gorgeous, and he soon had me forgetting his 250 IQ and his Nobel Prize. Although I had little practical experience, he liked my academic record, and the commendation from my advisor (who just happened to be one of his old professors) didn't hurt. He took the time to read over some of my senior projects, and got downright excited over some of my theories and innovative ideas for programming computers.
 
I walked out of that interview with a great new job, a super dental plan, and a HUGE crush on my new boss. My new MARRIED boss. Isn't that always the way? All the good ones are married or gay . . . and sometimes both.
 
Or so I thought. And then I met the Admiral.
 
I had been at the Project a few weeks when he strolled into the Control Room one day with Sam. He had been in Washington for nearly two months, working with the congressional committee appointed to allocate funds, and oversee the Project. Arriving straight from the airport, he was still decked out in his navy whites, complete with all the ribbons and stripes and scrambled eggs on the hat and everything. I took one look at that fine-looking, virile stud muffin and thought to myself, "Whoa-woa, THAT'S for me!" (All right, I confess – I've always gotten a little weak in the knees for a man in uniform, especially one THAT sexy!)
 
The next day, a clingy sheer white blouse (sans bra, naturally), my shortest, tightest black leather skirt, my highest pair of matching stiletto heels, and the perfect execution of a dropped stack of manila folders at Al's feet (which I then had to bend over at the waist to pick up v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y . . . did I mention the thong underwear?) secured me a dinner date, and 'dessert' later at his place . That night, I learned what 'great sex' felt like. I mean, I've had 'okay sex' and 'adequate sex' and even occasionally 'good sex', but nothing, and I do mean nothing, like what the Admiral and his little First Mate could do.
 
I know what you're thinking: God, what a tramp! Sleeps with a guy on the first date. Well, let me tell you, when they're as electrifying as Al Calavicci, you bet your sweet ass! I've always dug older guys anyway . . . some people have said I'm looking for a father figure, just 'cause my own dad divorced my mom when I was 10. But that's complete horse-hockey, all right? Men of my generation are just total jerks, only interested in one thing, and once they get it, they're out the door. Sometimes that's not such a bad thing – there were quite a few ex-boyfriends I wished had just jettisoned after the fucking was over.
 
But older guys, they were brought up differently. For the most part, they treat you with respect, like a real person. They enjoy taking you out and showing you off, and don't ask to borrow some money when you go out to eat because they 'forgot' their ATM card. Plus, they're much more experienced – none of that bumbling and fumbling and 'whaddya-mean-I-gotta-wear-a-rubber' and 'where-the-hell-does-this-go-anyway' crap that you have to put up with when you sleep with some typical Gen X loser who learned how to 'do it' by watching Porky's on HBO when he shoulda been studying for his big auto shop exam or something.
 
And okay, so Al was A LOT older than me, but not where it counted – between the sheets. He did things to me no other man (or woman) has ever done. He found pleasure points I never knew I had, as he spent hours on a reconnaissance mission of my body, making me moan and sigh and cry out in pure ecstasy. He went down on me like a deep-sea diver, as I crashed through wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure. Only when he was satisfied that I was putty in his hands did he lay down one last trail of kisses up my body, before plunging into me. Then the fireworks truly began.
 
Don't think either of us showed up for work the next day. Or the day after, for that matter.
 
We were a pretty steady item after that first night, but as I learned during a weekend trip to Vegas, I wasn't the only woman in his life – half the cocktail waitresses knew Al by name, and a couple of the showgirls were less than thrilled to see him with me (as the slaps to his face testified). Fact is, there were untold dozens before me, and I wasn't fool enough to think that I could put a stop to his womanizing ways.
 
So I didn't try. I let him have his occasional flings, knowing he'd come back to me . . . and he let me have mine, knowing I'd do the same. Oh, I don't think he was very happy about that at first, but what could he do? What's good for the goose, after all. I'll admit it, I guess I did some of it to make him jealous, but I really couldn't help myself, what with all those young military men hanging around the Complex in their sexy uniforms! (Verbena's told me I have a fetish for them . . . and she may be right.)
 
Contrary to what you might hear, though, there really weren't all that many of them – an ensign here, a lieutenant there. And Captain Tom Beckett, Sam's sexy older brother. He's the kind of guy a girl could really fall for: tall, strong, noble and handsome. Just recently widowed, he lived at the Project with his two young sons, Matt and Andrew. He's very charming, and very sweet, and so very sad.
 
Maybe that's why we never slept together, our involvement confined to friendly lunches in the cafeteria and dinners with an occasional movie the boys on those nights when Al was busy working with Sam. He needed someone to talk to, and I was more than happy to listen to his troubles and fears, his dreams and his nightmares. In return, he treated me like a lady, with kindness and reverence and never once laid a hand on me. A perfect gentleman. Damn.
 
Not that I ever told Al that. He thought there was something going on between me and Tom, and maybe it was cruel, but I never corrected him. I considered it payback for Taffy in the typing pool, and Larissa in accounting, and Katrina in communications. We had some pretty juicy fights over Tom . . . and some FABULOUS make-up sessions, too.
 
Absolutely NO ONE can make-up like Al – sometimes leaving me breathless and wobbly for days afterwards. (Whoever said Italian men are the best lovers obviously knew what they were talking about!)
 
But our relationship wasn't just about sex. Well, maybe in the beginning it was. If I had a brain, Al didn't know about it. And I don't think he would've cared one way or the other. However, once the action is done, and you're lying there in bed cooling off, you have to do SOMETHING, and eventually, one night, we started talking. I think we were both amazed to discover that we liked a lot of the same things – I KNOW he was startled to realize I wasn't just a pretty face.
 
Fourteen wonderful, exciting, dizzying months were spent with the Admiral. He was unlike any man I had ever known, and I adored him, and he knew it. So caring and loving, yet so damaged and tormented. He tried to hide it by being the life of the party, the devil-may-care aging flyboy, but those who knew him understood it was all an act. Because Al Calavicci was a broken man, screwed by life over and over again. I marveled at all he had been through, most of which would have destroyed a lesser man. And that was only the stuff he told me about. I knew there was more, much more, to him than he'd ever reveal to me.
 
I saw it the first time we slept together – a sadness in his dark eyes that stretched all the way down into his troubled soul. Oh, how I ached to reach deep inside and heal his fractured being, to take away all that hurt and pain. There were a couple of times, when he'd look at me, and I'd see a light, a joy sparkling in them, and I knew I had accomplished it. But it never lasted long, and I always wished I could do it more often.
 
Still, even with our ups and downs, we were happy. We worked together, we played together . . . we loved together, although we never called it that. To say the words would have made what we had too serious, and neither of us was looking for that. I was too young to settle down, and Al, well, he had gotten burned once too often. I think that was one of the things he liked most about me – I didn't pressure him, just accepted him. And I liked that he didn't feel like he owned me. I was free to be my own person. I was free to be me. We had each other, and we didn't want anything else.
 
Of course, that was B.C.
 
Before Calamity. Before Complications. Before Catastrophe. Before Confusion.
 
In other words, before Sam leaped.
 
In that one moment, my life was turned upside down. Not that I knew it right away.
 
For the first few days, in between the celebrations (after all, Dr. Beckett DID become the first person to travel in time), the Project was in upheaval. Poor Gooshie was blamed for not stopping Sam and for not having a working retrieval program, even though that had been Sam's department. Donna was inconsolable as the second attempt at retrieving him failed. Verbena Beeks had her hands full with a visitor we NEVER expected. Tom was frantic, and angry, and scared that his little brother was lost forever. And Al . . . .
 
Al showed us all how he got to be a three-star admiral. He was strong and determined as he steered the ship that was Quantum Leap back onto an even keel. He kept his head while others were running around without theirs. He was a leader we could all look to, knowing he'd guide us on the right path. He took command and gave orders with a lifetime of experience. He put a lot of pressure on us, and on himself, but we felt safe with him, secure. Al was our savior and we all had faith in him. His very presence demanded respect and he got it, because we knew he'd get our friend back. We just KNEW it.
 
Only I got to see Al behind the closed doors. The man who let his defenses down, and showed me what he didn't dare show anyone else. The man who blamed himself for not coming through for Sam when he really needed him. The man whose heart was shattered when his best friend of nearly 20 years couldn't remember who he was. The man who would cry in my arms, praying to a God he didn't even believe in anymore for his friend to return to us. A little part of me died each time he broke down like that.
 
Still, he carried on, and Sam leaped again, this time into a minor league baseball player in 1968. Al was quite optimistic . . . hey, he was getting closer to us in 1995! A few more leaps like that, and he'd be home soon. But when he leaped again, it was backwards, into a mobster, in 1965. Al took what he considered a set back pretty badly, and started riding us in Control harder, as if we could fix what was going on. Heck, we didn't even KNOW what was going on!
 
By the time Sam leaped into that boxer, it didn't matter that he had gotten all the way to 1974 – the Admiral was running on fumes. Verbena was just about to place him on involuntary medical leave, so he locked himself in the Imaging Chamber, where he promptly fell asleep at the side of Sam's bed. All of us who were monitoring him feared for his sanity and health, and I felt their eyes turn in my direction. That's when I knew it was up to me to provide a 'distraction' for Al once Sam had leaped out of there. So I did, taking him on a mini-trip to Vegas.
 
All right, have your chuckles. It's not anything I didn't hear at the time. I mean, yeah, so it's not the first place people would think of for a relaxing 'time-out', but you don't know my Tiger like I do. Those four days we spent in the Executive Suite at the Monte Carlo were just what Al needed. He saw a couple of shows, ate some good food, lost a bundle at the roulette table, and we spent our nights doing the whole cuddle and bubble thing. When we returned to Stallions Gate, he was back in tip-top shape, and the staff couldn't believe the transformation that had taken place. (Bena even asked me if the REAL Al had been abducted by pod people!)
 
So he was all set and ready to go when Sam finally landed again, this time into a college professor, in 1971. Even though it was backwards, it wasn't by much – just a couple of years. Hey, he was still in the seventies . . . Al should have been excited, but he wasn't. In fact, the leap troubled him right from the start, and we all soon knew why.
 
You see, it wasn't the best of times at the Project. By now, the overseeing committee had been notified of Sam's uncontrolled leaps, and they insisted on visiting the complex. Al was none too pleased when the head of the committee, Senator Herbert Weitzman, showed up himself. And there was also the fact that Sam was interacting with Donna Elysee, in the past, years before they actually met. It was the first time Sam had contact with anyone from the Project, and we were all holding our collective breath, not knowing what was going to happen.
 
Plus Sam was acting really weird and saying strange things, like insisting that Donna had stood him up at the altar and that he needed to reunite her with her father so she'd go through with the ceremony. He was begging Al to help him get her back, and alone in our room that night, Al confided in me that he was torn about what to do, which was very odd. I mean, well, Donna was HERE. She had never stood Sam up at the altar . . . she had been his wife for nine years. And since when did Al have to even THINK about assisting Sam? The good doctor had the Admiral wrapped around his little finger, yet Al seemed reluctant to help his friend out this time. When I asked why, he just shrugged his shoulders and said it didn't 'feel right' for some reason.
 
But eventually, Sam got his own way . . . he always did. Al had to be real sneaky, though, because Weitzman was hanging around and watching every move he made. Oh, boy, did the shit hit the fan when they figured out what was on that hieroglyphic sash Al was wearing! My bad . . . it SEEMED like a good idea when I came up with it. We should've known the snoopy Senator would figure it out.
 
So when Al advanced the suggestion that we 'take the old windbag down a couple of notches' I enthusiastically offered myself as bait. Actually, it was kinda fun. Nothing happened – I just managed to get him into some VERY compromising positions, while a photographer just HAPPENED to be present with a loaded weapon. And good ol' Herbie didn't even know what hit him. (Or should I say MRS. Weitzman was doing the hitting, once she saw the pictures!)
 
Sam fixed a couple of wrongs that time before he leaped: he reunited Donna with her father, and convinced Jamie Lee to leave Professor Bryant alone, even getting her together with the true love of her life. And once Weitzman and the committee suddenly found something more 'important' to do in Washington, taking the next flight outta town, we thought the worst was behind us.
 
WRONG-O!
 
I knew something was amiss with Al the minute he walked out of the Imaging Chamber. Donna was waiting for him by the ramp, as she always did. They'd go to the cafeteria for coffee, and discuss how Sam was doing. But this time, when he saw her, well, it looked like he has seen a ghost. All he said was, "Oh my God, it's YOU!" and promptly fainted. FAINTED! Med team was in there faster than you could say Doctor Bombay.
 
When he woke up, I was standing there, holding his hand. The look in his eyes was one of deep confusion. I was worried he had banged his head or had amnesia or something, so I leaned down, and gently whispered, "It's me, Tina. Are you okay, Tiger?" (He HATED if anyone heard me calling him that.) While there was a slight smile as his eyes were instantly drawn to my gaping neckline, I could see he still had more questions than answers. And when I kissed him, he pulled away, startled. That's when I knew something was seriously haywire.
 
Of course the whole staff had their own individual theories on what was going on. Bena was pushing her 'emotional and physical' collapse theory. Gooshie was postulating that the Imagining Chamber was having some kind of inverse effect on his mind and body. (Well, DUH! I could have told them that! The damn thing made him nauseous like you wouldn't believe!) And when I mentioned that little fact, then Nurse Barrie piped in with her own theory about malnutrition and vitamin deficiency.
 
But I knew it was none of that. When he had looked at me, it was as if he were looking at a stranger. Whatever was going on with Al, a few more milligrams of Vitamin C wasn't going to fix it.
 
The next five weeks or so were like living in the Twilight Zone. In all that time, we didn't do the ol' Bango Tango, and even with our 'open relationship', that was a lifetime. Sometimes, it almost seemed as if he was trying to avoid me, and I was starting to get a little fed up with his 'headache' excuses. I tried to convince myself it was the stress of Sam's leaping, not to mention Washington was breathing down our necks again.
 
In fact, poor Al was even called up to the Hill to address Congress. Weitzman and the rest of the committee were unhappy with the results they had seen in New Mexico, and wanted to pull the plug. All of us were afraid that Senator McBride wasn't going to come through for us this time. But she did, and Al secured the funding for another year. That called for a celebration, so as soon as Sam finished his current leap, I ambushed Al in his room at the Project. He fucked me within an inch of my life that night. And the next. And the next. Oh, God was it good! My Tiger was back!
 
Or so I thought. It would be months before I discovered the truth.
 
We picked up right where we left off, and the sex was incredible. He was spending more time at home, his flings seemingly a thing of the past. Hey, if he wanted to sleep in my bed every night, then I wasn't about to complain – I could never get enough of the Admiral. In fact, I stopped shopping around myself, saving up my energy for Al, and Lord knew, I needed all the energy I could get.
 
One night, about a year after Sam started leaping, Al was in a particularly frisky mood. Things got wild, and a little out of control, and before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees as my lover slipped through my backdoor. We'd done it in the past, though not for a long while. I was nervous the first time he had suggested it, but he was so gentle and considerate. I couldn't believe how good it felt – almost a Zen thing. After that, it became an infrequent, but welcomed, addition to our sexual repertoire.
 
That night he took his time getting me ready; the shivers ran up and down my back as I heard him slip on a condom, and eagerly anticipated what was coming. As I felt him nudging against me, I let out a squeal of delight, and pushed myself back against him; the squeal grew in volume as I felt him enter me.
 
It took a few minutes for him to penetrate completely, but soon he lay flush against me; lovingly, he leaned forward, cupping my breasts, and kissed me on the back of my neck. I just purred, and told him I was ready. He carefully pulled out, and slowly pushed back in again – my purring got louder, urging him onward.
 
By the time he had built up a steady, powerful tempo, I was climbing the walls. One hand snaked down underneath me, seeking my love button, and oh baby, did he find it! A few strokes, and I was shooting through the stratosphere. A few more rubs, and rocket #2 was launched.
 
I was still circling the moon when he mounted his final assault. By now, I was moaning so loud I'm sure Al was glad the walls were soundproof. Both of us, climbing higher, higher, oh, baby, so good . . . just one more push . . . .
 
I was falling gracefully back to earth when I felt Al stiffen behind me, and with a gasp, cried out the one word that changed our relationship forever: "Sam."
 
Wait just one minute! Maybe it was time to start complaining! As he sat there removing his soiled rubber, I jumped up and yelled, indignantly, "What the hell?!" I mean, I'm kneeling there, letting him do something to me that I wouldn't even DREAM of doing with someone else, and he's thinking about that bitch, Samantha Stormer!?! I didn't mind him having his little flings, but I'd be DAMNED if I was going to compete with some bleach-job bimbo from 1961! I was just about to let him have it with both barrels when I noticed he wasn't even in the room anymore.
 
Oh, was my dander up! If he thought he could avoid this by slipping out of bed and running away, he had another thing coming. I grabbed my robe, and charged out of the room.
 
I didn't have to look far. I found him in the living room, sitting dejectedly on the sofa, glass in his hand – open bottle of Jim Beam on the table. This was not good. I knew Al had a problem with alcohol, from before I met him. In all the time I've known him, he never touched a drop of the hard stuff. From the light covering of dust on the bottle, and the freshly broken seal, I realized this must've been a leftover from a long time ago.
 
My anger disappeared, with confusion and hurt filling its space within me. He hadn't taken a sip – he just sat there, staring at the glass, as if deciding what to do. Well, I didn't have to decide. I crossed the room, sat down beside him, and carefully, but resolutely, took the glass from him. He didn't argue or put up a fight. All he did was raise his eyes to me, eyes more tormented than I had ever seen, and blurted out, "He left me."
 
Those words took everything out of him, and the dam finally burst. I'd seen Al troubled before – I had even seen him cry. But this frightened me, to say the least. The plaintive moans and wails being torn from his throat were those of a wounded animal, or a lonely coyote at night, howling in vain for its mate.
 
He jerked away from me as I tried to hold him, but I didn't let it deter me. Slipping my arms around his shaking frame, as the heaving sobs poured from his soul, I pulled him close to me, trying to comfort him, soothe him, console him anyway I could. Long minutes were spent sitting there, as months of agony finally spilled from the strong, authoritative Admiral.
 
When he was all done, and there was not a tear left to shed, he told me his story, his whole story. The one about how Donna had stood Sam up at the altar back in 1986, just like Sam said she did. The one about how he and Sam were lovers for nine years before the good doctor decided to take on time head-to-head. He confessed he hadn't even known me that day when he stepped out of the Imaging Chamber – the day when he saw Donna and fainted. He explained that whatever Sam did in the past to change this timeline, he was not my Tiger. 'My' Al was gone, forever, and 'this' Al begged my forgiveness for deceiving me.
 
To say I was stunned by this revelation is the understatement of the decade. But then, as I said, Sam had never been in contact with anyone from the project before the Lawrence College leap. We really didn't know what the consequences were going to be.
 
Now we knew.
 
Was I angry? Hell yes. Not at 'this' Al – after all, he did the best he could, trying to adapt to a world he never anticipated, and didn't want. I was angry at God, or Fate, or Time, or whatever the hell Sam was screwing around with. My Tiger was gone for good, and that hurt. A lot.
 
But the man sitting beside me was hurting, too. His lover was lost in time and space, and didn't even remember they were lovers. And what was worse, that lover now had a wife . . . a wife that Al had helped him get. I didn't know who had gotten fucked over more – the Admiral or me.
 
Not knowing what else to do, but assuming I wasn't wanted there anymore, I mumbled, "Well, then, I'm, um . . . I'll just get my things and go," and stood to leave.
 
He grasped my arm and pleaded with me, "Please, Tina – don't go. I . . . I want you to stay. I NEED you to stay. I was wrong not to tell you the truth, but geez, I didn't want to lose you. You've been so good to me, and I really, really need you right now." As soon as he said it, he gave a sarcastic laugh, and let go of me. Bending his head, and running his hands through he hair, he muttered, "Christ, listen to me. How freakin' selfish can one person be? Asking you to stay after all I've put you through. I have no right to ask that of you. It's just," he dared to look up at me, and the misery in his eyes tore at my heart, "It's just . . . aww, shit… I'm so scared to be alone, Tina, that's all."
 
To tell the truth, I really didn't want to leave anyway. Although he wasn't 'my' Tiger, I had still lived with this man for over six months, and liked him just as much as the other version. He wasn't simply some man who shared my bed, he was my friend, too. What he seemed to believe would be an incredible burden for me, I didn't mind at all. It would take some getting used to, but I've always been pretty flexible. Cupping his face in my hands, I leaned forward and whispered, "You won't be alone, Al. But honey . . .?"
 
"Yeah, Babydoll?" he asked, using a pet name for me that I now knew belonged to 'this' Al.
 
"You better never call me Sam in bed again."
 
An impish smile crossed his handsome face. "I promise." And with that, he leaned in the rest of the way, and kissed me, a kiss full of sadness, desperation, and gratitude. It quickly turned hot and passionate, in the way only Al's kisses can, and I melted into his embrace easily. Sliding my robe off my shoulders, he gently pushed me back on the couch, and entered me, slowly, tenderly, claiming me for his own once more.
 
After he had finished loving me, he fell asleep in my arms. I watched him for a while, my heart aching for this poor, tortured man. It just wasn't fair, but, as Dr. Beckett was fond of saying, "Who said life is fair?" Brushing my fingers through his hair, I kissed him on the cheek before I carefully slipped out of his grasp. Being very quiet, so as not to disturb him, I grabbed up the bottle, and still-full glass from the table. Rushing to the kitchen, I quickly poured the alcohol down the sink, hoping he wouldn't be too mad with me in the morning.
 
Better to be safe than sorry.
 
So we continued pretending everything was perfect. It wasn't so bad, actually. THIS Al wasn't much different from MY Al. Well, okay, so he didn't remember 'us'. And he would have an occasional beer, but not more than that . . . apparently this one also had a problem with alcohol. His flings were few and far between, mostly occurring when he was called back to Washington for business. And he was more melancholy than my Al, with good reason.
 
But other than that, I barely noticed any difference between the two men, and as the weeks, then months, went by, I stopped thinking of the other Al completely. Not that I had time to anyway. My various steady lovers were keeping me pretty busy.
 
I didn't go looking for them, but they found me anyway. Vibrant, vivacious Verbena, and gentle, goofy Gooshie. They were as lost and scared as Al was, and needed me just as much.
 
Bena had been my best 'girl' friend since my arrival at the Project, and it didn't take long for that friendship to become sexual. She wasn't the first female to share my bed, but I was a first for her. I think I was sort of an experiment for her, and she came to me periodically for 'research'. When Sam started leaping, Bena took it particularly hard, blaming herself for not seeing the warning signs. After that, she started showing up at my door on a more regular basis. And on those days when the stress and anxiety just radiated from her, it was nice to know that I could offer my own special kind of therapy to our very competent therapist.
 
And Gooshie. Sweet, lovable Gooshie. All those late nights, trapped together in Main Control, running the latest retrieval program, or downloading still more information into Ziggy the Insatiable, well . . . one thing just naturally lead to another. The first time it happened, I thought he was going to stroke out on me, fearing that the Admiral would have his head (if not a more important part of his anatomy), but I convinced him that Al would understand. After that, those long nights didn't seem so long. (And nothing beats a 'quickie' for breaking through a creative block.)
 
Then there was Donna . . . what can I say? That one was a surprise, even to me. The truth was she needed solace and company and love more than all of the others put together. She tried to be strong, and have faith, and for four years she was a model of dignity and determination. But when Sam came home to her, then almost immediately jumped back into the Accelerator to save Al's life (for which he'll have my undying gratitude), it was almost more than she could take. We all feared she was going to go off the deep end after that one.
 
I spent hours with her, just talking and crying and hugging and . . . and . . . one day it just happened. I wasn't sorry it did . . . and neither was she. She DID feel guilty about it, but I told her she had to live, too. And it wasn't like she was really cheating on Sam – not anymore than he was cheating on her. They both just needed the shelter and comfort of someone to hold them and love them, if only for a little while. (I didn't mention the fact that she knew they were married and he didn't . . . why muddle the issue?) And I was happy to be there for Donna when she needed me. But between the four of them, plus my real job, I was certainly kept hopping!
 
Then Sam leaped home. For good.
 
Poor Al. All his hopes and prayers and dreams came true, then were shattered in a span of less than 24 hours. Sam didn't remember them being lovers – he only remembered being married to Donna. I thought that cruel blow from Fate was going to kill my Tiger – actually, it almost did. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't found him in that bar? It was just too scary to think about.
 
So, for the past few weeks, Al has continued to pretend he's just Sam's friend, while each night, he tries to beat back the demons that threaten to destroy him, those bedeviling memories of his former life.
 
When I saw Sam hug him today in the Control Room, I knew Al was dangerously close to the edge. He just ran past me – I didn't need to see his eyes to know the tears were there, kept in only by sheer determination. I gave him a few minutes, before I followed him to his office . . . .
 
"Ready to go, Babydoll?"
 
I was brought back to the present, to see Al standing near the door, coat on, and keys in hand. Taking a deep breath, I flashed him my most dazzling smile, "Sure thing, Tiger. Let's go."
 

 
"More chocolate sauce, baby?"
 
"Mmmm, you betcha. Just save some for later . . . I have plans for it."
 
His laughter was music to my ears – it's been a rare occurrence of late. "I'm sure you do, kiddo." He drizzled a few drops of Hershey's syrup onto the spoonful of mocha chip ice cream, and guided it to my waiting mouth.
 
I cooed playfully. "Oh, God, that's so good, Tiger." Licking my lips, I asked, curiously, "Did you ever feed Sam in bed like this?"
 
He gave a wistful little smile. "Not quite . . . he preferred butterscotch topping."
 
"Ooooo, that sounds yummy, too. We'll have to try that sometime." Another spoonful was held out to me, and I greedily slurped it up. I had once told Al all I wanted out of life was to find a man who would feed me ice cream in bed; being the romantic that he is, his only question was, "What flavor?" Yeah, so it was kind of fattening, especially with the chocolate sauce, but knowing Al, he'd help me work off the extra calories.
 
As the movie we were watching ended, I grabbed the remote, and started flipping through channels, trying to find something else to keep us entertained during 'intermission'. CNN News. Infomercials. A rerun of the Duke/North Carolina game on ESPN that I paused on for a few minutes. Showgirls on Cinemax that AL wanted me to pause on for a few minutes. A Bugs Bunny marathon on the Cartoon Network that we BOTH wanted to pause on for a few minutes. Finally, I landed on Nick at Nite, just as an old episode of The Love Boat was starting, so I left it there.
 
"Ohh, goodie. It's one of the later ones."
 
"How do you know that?" he asked, digging once more into the bowl.
 
"Because that cute blond who plays the purser is on it. Ted Mc Something or other."
 
The man beside me chuckled, "You know, this was my fourth wife's favorite show. Or was that Maxine? No, it was Sharon, definitely Sharon." He fed me another spoonful of ice cream, extra syrup, and added, "Maybe it was Ruthie."
 
I giggled. "Al, just shut up. You'll NEVER get it right." He gave me a smirk as he gobbled up the last of the melted treat. Putting the bowl down on the nightstand, he stretched his arms wide, an open invitation for me to crawl in, which I did. We snuggled while we watched the show in silence, except for the occasional lip-smacks of some really sloppy kisses.
 
As one couple after another found each other, I couldn't help but sigh, "Real life should be like this. Everyone finds their true love, and then live happily ever after. It's too bad you and Sam don't have a boat like that."
 
He just kind of looked at me, a twinkle in his eye; I just looked at him as the same brilliant deduction hit me. We both jumped out of the bed and nearly tripped over each other in our haste to get to Ziggy. She wasn't too happy about being used as a 'travel agent' (her words), but grudgingly helped us to book passage for four on the next Princess Cruise out of Los Angeles, in May.
 
Once our first-class accommodations were confirmed, Al grabbed the phone and started dialing. It was only due to my suggestion that I share some of my ideas for the excess chocolate syrup that prevented Sam and Donna from getting a very rude awakening at 2:00 in the morning. I mean, I knew Al was geeked about the trip, but there IS a limit, right?

 
May 2, 2000 – DAY ONE:
 
The next couple of weeks just flew by. It was a toss up who was more excited about the trip. Sam and Donna couldn't believe that we had bought them such an extravagant 'second honeymoon'. Al couldn't wait to get into Sam's skivvies. And me, well, I was just happy to be getting away from the desert for a while. It had been AGES since I had gotten away from it all, and what could be better than a Cinco de Mayo Cruise to the Mexican Rivera?
 
We had only been at sea about an hour, and already I could feel the tension just draining from me. I was hanging off the railing of the Promenade deck when Al finally caught up with me. He eyed me up and down, taking in my 'casual' outfit of lime green Capri pants, canvas sandals, and a pink ribbed tank top that spelled out DIVA in rhinestones and gave me a wolf whistle, before coming over to join me. I flashed him a big smile as he wrapped his arm around my waist. Goodness, he looked sharp, wearing a pair of white linen pants, and a blue Hawaiian print shirt (covered with colorful parrots and macaws) that would put the natives to shame. "Got everything unpacked?" I asked, kissing him on the cheek.
 
"Yup. Well, except your 'female' stuff. Ain't enough money in the world for me to handle those things."
 
"You coward!" I giggled.
 
"Hey, after five marriages, I've learned a little mystery is good for a relationship . . . and my sanity!"
 
He hugged me close and I rested my head on his shoulder as we gazed out across the ocean. "God, it's so beautiful," I sighed.
 
Sliding his hand down my waist to my right hip, he pulled me closer and sighed back, "You certainly are."
 
I looked up and smiled at him. "No, silly . . . I was talking about the ocean."
 
His voice dropped down into a husky whisper, "I know. But I wasn't." He leaned over, and my lips were blessed with a passionate kiss. As we wrapped our arms around each other, getting lost in one another, I heard the soft 'awwwws' of another couple passing by behind us. You could sense they were thinking that the ship's magic was starting already.
 
Maybe it was.
 
We pulled back from each other, by mutual agreement, and turned our attention back to the ocean. "If I had known it would be like this, I would've done it years ago."
 
"Never been a boat before?" he asked, as his hand came to rest on my hip once more.
 
"No. I went sailing with my folks a couple of time when I was little, before dad left, but nothing like this."
 
He sighed, "Yeah, it's been a long time for me, too. Forgot how much I loved it. One of the reasons I joined the Navy."
 
"But I thought you flew planes for the Navy . . .?"
 
"Well, I did. But I mostly flew them off of aircraft carriers. I was assigned to the USS Yorktown fresh from Annapolis, then transferred to the USS Intrepid – had some pretty great times on that ship." He kissed the top of my head before he continued, "I remember . . . March, 1965. We were out doing maneuvers, when we were suddenly ordered to change our course, and intercept a spacecraft out in the middle of the Atlantic."
 
"A U.F.O.?!!" I squeaked.
 
That got a hardy guffaw. "Nah, Gemini 3 had just splashed down. We were in the area, and got sent to recover the pilots, Virgil Grissom and John Young. It was so wild. They entertained the crew with all their stories about space and the stars. Even got to talk to them for a few minutes, one on one. Decided right then and there that's what I wanted to do. Damn shame Grissom was killed a couple of years later during a launch pad test. He was a true American hero." He pulled me close, and kissed me on the cheek. "When the accident happened, Beth wanted me to withdraw my NASA application – it really steamed her that I refused. And I guess it didn't help matters when I signed up for another tour of duty in 'Nam. My next assignment was on The USS Enterprise. Like the starship? You'd've liked it – over 3000 crewmen, all in and out of their Navy uniforms."
 
I slapped his shoulder playfully. "AL!"
 
He sighed at the memories. "Yeah, great times. Flew many a mission from that tub. Me in an A-4 Skyhawk, with my best buddy, Chip, in the co-pilot's seat, cutting through the wild blue yonder at speeds that would knock yer socks off."
 
I couldn't hide my awe. "Oooh, sounds so exciting."
 
He looked at me with those big brown eyes and grinned, "It didn't suck." Then, quickly, the grin was gone, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he added, "Well, except getting shot down, of course. THAT sucked big time."
 
And that was it. End of conversation. When it came to the war, Al's way of dealing with it was to not talk about it. In all the years we had been together, he'd only mentioned it a handful of times. I knew he was a POW, and that his first wife had left him during his imprisonment, but that was all he'd ever say. I knew better than to try to get Al to 'open up' to me. He told me what he wanted to and the rest remained unspoken. Because no matter which timeline, Al Calavicci had a lot of secrets, and kept his cards close to his chest. I learned a long time ago to accept what he'd share with me, and leave the rest alone. Besides, it'd do no good to press him. Even now, over 30 years later, the war was a subject he avoided at all costs, and I respected his privacy.
 
Removing his hand from my tushie, he reached into his breast pocket and took out a cigar. He had this special little ritual when he prepared one to be lit that was almost sensual, and he looked so damn sexy with it clamped between his lips. (But I could do without the smoky smell in all my clothes.) Taking a couple of puffs, he turned back to me, the bad memories already sealed back away behind his wall, "So, now what?"
 
"What do you mean?"
 
He waved his hands around, encompassing our surroundings. "You got us all here on the ship . . . now what's your plan to get me and Sam together?"
 
"Easy, peasy. You just get him alone and tell him everything: how much you love him, how much you miss him, how you want to grow old with him, how you two were destined to be together. Everything."
 
Giving me an incredulous look, he asked, sarcastically, "That's it? That's your grand plan? What makes you think that will work?"
 
I wrapped my arms around his waist and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Al, honey, this is the Love Boat, remember? Anything can happen. And there's always a happy ending!"
 
"Awwww, lookit the lovebirds!" a voice behind us chimed. We turned at that moment to see Sam approaching us, wearing baggy blue-and-white striped jams, old worn-out boat shoes, and a T-shirt that read, **Protons have mass? I didn't even know they were Catholic**. He was already looking more relaxed than we had seen since he leaped home. "I had no idea where you guys disappeared to. I've been searching the whole ship!"
 
"Even the garbage room?" Al quipped.
 
Sam glared at him. "Not funny. You had to remind me, huh?" He came over to the railing, and stood beside us. "So, whatcha up to?"
 
"Oh, just watching the waves," Al replied, then looking at me, added, "admiring the view."
 
Sam followed Al's lead, and smiled, "I can see why."
 
I shot them both a scolding look. "Actually, Al was reliving his glory days."
 
"Don't go believing all the tall tales this jet-jockey tells you, Tina."
 
Al retorted, indignantly, "Hey, you weren't there, Beckett. Every one of them is true. And if I wanna share some of my life's experiences with this lovely young lady, it's none of your beeswax."
 
"Have you shared that Bingo-Bango-Bongo one with her yet?" he teased.
 
"Stuff it, Beckett," Al retorted. I couldn't help but laugh. Truth was, I had heard that one last year when Al dragged me to the annual Tailhook conference. It was the most popular story making the rounds, and each time I heard it, it grew more outrageous. I'm sure the truth wouldn't be half as interesting.
 
Sam heaved a huge sigh, "All right, then what other stories of daring-do are you relating now?"
 
Before my honey could rattle off another snide comment, I told him, "Did you know that Al was stationed on an aircraft carrier that rescued two Gemini astronauts after their craft splashed down?"
 
The amazement couldn't be concealed. "Albert! In all the years we've known each other . . . you never told me that one!"
 
"Oh, I'm sure there's a lot of things Al's never told you," I responded, sagely.
 
If only Al could know how cute he is when he gets flustered. The unmistakable blush was hitting his cheeks as he scrambled to change the subject. "Ahhh, so, kid . . . where's Donna?"
 
"She's laying down. I think she's got a touch of motion sickness."
 
I giggled, "Maybe it's morning sickness."
 
"Yeah, Sammy," Al piped in. " Isn't it about time you gave Thelma some grandkids?"
 
Now it was Sam's turn to blush. "Stop it. It's NOT morning sickness, okay? And besides, what about you two? When are you gonna make an honest woman out of Tina and have some bambinos of your own?"
 
All right. The teasing had gotten a bit out of hand. "Samuel Beckett, bite your tongue right now!" I reprimanded.
 
"Jeezus, kid! I'm with Tina on this one. Can you imagine ME as a husband and daddy?"
 
Sam just smiled, enigmatically, "As a matter of fact, I can. You'd make a great daddy. You have a way with kids."
 
"Oh, and how the hell would you know that?" Al challenged.
 
"Well, as I recall, Teresa Bruckner was quite enamored with you."
 
The Admiral shot back, "You know, I liked it better when you couldn't remember jack shit, Beckett."
 
"And what about ME as a mommy?" I winced, as a shudder went down my back. "All those stretch marks? I'd never be able to wear a bikini again . . . and I've got a DOOZY I can't wait to show you."
 
Al gave me one of his patented leers, "I saw what there was of it in the suitcase . . . can't wait to see you model it for us."
 
"It'll be my pleasure."
 
"Don't be so sure of that, Babydoll," Al smirked.
 
I patted him on the cheek, and kissed him, tenderly. "I think I'm gonna go check on Donna. Why don't you two guys spend some time together? I'm sure there's LOTS that you have to get caught up on." Heck, no time like the present to get everything sorted out, right?
 
So, with one last knowing glance at my Tiger, I left the two of them alone.
 
AL:
 
We both watched Tina walk away, and I couldn't help but moan softly in approval. The girl's got one gorgeous backside, and the way she wiggles those hips when she moves – just like waves on an ocean. "Al?"
 
"Huh?"
 
I turned to see Sam grinning from ear to ear. "Still admiring 'the view'?" he chuckled.
 
Giving him a smile of my own, I groaned, "Ohhh, yeah!"
 
"Can't say that I blame you – Tina's definitely one in a million."
 
I nodded in full agreement. "She certainly is."
 
"You're crazy about her," he commented. He didn't bother to phrase it as a question . . . there was no question about it.
 
"Yup – wouldn't YOU be?"
 
That got a full-scale laugh, "Are you kidding? She's a babe. But if you ever tell Donna I said so, I'll deny it. She'd have my hide!"
 
The laughter was contagious. "Whoo-dish!" I bellowed, while pretending to crack an imaginary whip.
 
"Laugh it up, fuzzball," he snorted. "You've just forgotten what it's like to be hen-pecked. One more reason you should marry Tina."
 
"Sam . . ." I warned. "Change the record, okay?"
 
He shrugged his shoulders, and gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay. Consider it changed. How about telling me of this amazing Gemini rescue."
 
I took a couple of pulls off my cigar, and let the smoke curl around us, as I tried to work out my speech in my head. "Well, sure, kid, but actually there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. You see . . . ." I was just about to do it, spill my guts, tell the love of my life how I felt, when a young porter approached us.
 
"Excuse me . . . Dr. Beckett? I was told to deliver this to you." He handed Sam a small white envelope, and calmly walked away. I watched as my friend rip it open, and start to read, a small frown crossing his face.
 
"What is it, kid? Nothing bad, I hope?"
 
"Don't know," he answered, handing me the note inside. I scanned it and started to laugh. "It's not funny, Al."
 
"Kid, this is great. An invitation from the captain to sit at his table tonight. Guess that Nobel really opens doors, huh?"
 
"And just how the hell did he know I was on the ship, huh, Al?"
 
"Ahhhh, well . . ." I stalled, quite aware he was going to blow his stack on this one. He hated to use his name and accomplishments to curry favors, but sometimes it was necessary.
 
Hands on his hips, he admonished, "Al . . . what did you do?!"
 
I went on the defensive. "Do you know what kind of strings Ziggy had to pull to get us onto this ship on such short notice?"
 
"No, why don't you tell me?"
 
So I casually admitted that maybe, MAYBE, I sorta kinda dropped his name when I was making the reservations. "It was the only way, kid, or we woulda ended up on the poop deck, or even worse . . . next to the boiler room. THAT wouldn't have been a nice romantic second honeymoon, now would it?"
 
"No, I suppose not," he conceded. "And Dee will probably be tickled about this. Still, I wish you wouldn't do that, Al." He took the invite from me, and slipped it into his back pocket. Looking over at me once more he asked, "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
 
Whatever mood we had was gone, so I simply pretended to forget. "Huh? Oh, ahh, can't remember. You know, with all that excitement about the captain's table . . . guess I must be getting a touch of that Old Timer's Disease."
 
"I think you mean Alzheimer's."
 
"Yeah, see. What did I tell you?"
 
He just quirked one of those smiles at me and flung his arm around my shoulder. "What am I going to do with you, Al?" he chuckled.
 
At that moment, I could think of about a dozen things, but nothing that we could do in public without getting thrown into the pokey. So I just stood by him, and we watched the waves for a while in easy camaraderie.
 
That night, while Sam and Donna were having a stimulating time with the captain, Tina and I headed off for the ship's casino. I looked quite dashing in my black Brooks Brothers tux, if I do say so myself. Actually, I didn't have to . . . Tina did enough oohing and ahhing for the two of us.
 
Speaking of Tina, she played her part superbly. I'll admit . . . I'm a dirty card player, and with a bit of training, Tina turned out to be an excellent accomplice. As we approached the Black Jack table, all eyes turned to her, and I knew we had found some easy marks.
 
Sitting by my side, she pretended to be helping me with my betting, but her real job was to throw the other players off their game. She spent the night flirting with the other men, and distracting them with her constant 'adjusting' of the hemline on her slinky red micro halter-dress. Cripes, those old geezers spent more time looking down her top than looking at their cards! Unfortunately, she was also having fun distracting me, nibbling on my ear between hands. And those straying fingers of hers in my lap weren't helping matters one bit, either.
 
All in all, though, it was a pretty good night. I won $200, and a night of Mattress Mambo with my delicious arm-candy. Now, why can't I make out like that in Vegas?

 
May 3, 2000 – DAY TWO:
 
"Al, oil up my back, please?"
 
Oh, God. Those six words turned my legs to Jell-o, and my brain to mush. Sam was already flopping over onto his stomach; a tube of Tropical Sun tanning lotion was soon held out to me. I stood there, taking in the breathtaking view of my former lover, clad in just a bright red Speedo, portions of luscious ass flesh inching their way out from the confines of the skimpy material. My mouth went dry, and I couldn't swallow if my life depended on it.
 
He cracked open one bright hazel eye, and peeked up at me. "Al?" he asked softly, with much concern.
 
I took the tube from him, with a shaky hand. "Ah, sure, sure, kid. Wouldn't want you to burn to a crisp on me."
 
Balancing one knee on the chaise lounger, I squeezed some of the oil into my hands, and rubbed them together to warm it before applying it to my partner. Starting with his shoulders and working my way downwards with knowledgeable strokes, I found myself massaging his broad, smooth back.
 
"Ahhhh, God, Al, that feels good!" Sam sighed, as his taunt muscles began to relax under my ministrations, and he seemingly melted into his beach chair. Feeling his tension flow away brought back memories of the two of us and countless massage sessions just like this one, as he would sit at his desk, tooling with Ziggy after hours, then later, at the condo we shared . . . .
 
Unconsciously, I had been inching closer to Sam, until I was almost lying on top of him. I dared not move, trapped in a daze, as I drank him all in: his satiny skin shining with oil in the mid-morning sunlight; his soft, fragrant hair, falling around his ears; the back of his neck, looking so vulnerable, so tempting, so near . . . .
 
"I got fruity drinks!" Tina called out, her squeaky voice jerking me back to reality just as my lips were millimeters from kissing Sam, thereby saving my life, or at least, our friendship. I gazed up at her, and she gave me a look that told me she knew what I was about to do, and that she had just saved my butt. A tiny shake of her head told me what I already knew – bad timing, Calavicci.
 
"Ahhh, great! I'm thirsty," a totally oblivious Sam announced as she started passing out the drinks.
 
Handing me my glass, she announced, "Virgin Colada for Al . . . ."
 
"Love them virgins," I commented, bitterly. I had been a very good boy the past couple of months. Nothing but a light beer or two since that bar incident after Sam had leaped home.
 
"And non-virgins for Doctor Beckett and me," she finished. Then, before I could knock off another snide remark about liking non-virgins even better than virgins, she snapped, "Not one word from you, Bingo!"
 
Bending over, she placed a glass into Sam's grasping hand. Sam lifted his head, and his eyes almost bugged outta his head – I had noticed a similar reaction by just about every guy on the ship. Well, I had warned him Tina's outfit was a lulu – the pale pink crushed velvet bikini would've been declared offensive and obscene if worn by anyone with a lesser body. On Tina, it was proof that God existed. "Wow! Tina, that swimsuit is . . . is . . . ."
 
I laughed, "It certainly is."
 
Tina placed her drink on the table between the chairs, and did a little model's turn for us. "Don't think it's too tight in the fanny?" she asked, as she tugged at the miniscule triangle covering her backside.
 
Truth be told, there wasn't enough material for it to BE tight in the fanny. "Well, actually . . ." I started.
 
Sam finished my thought, "Actually, that's what makes it so . . . so . . . WOW!"
 
Tina giggled, and leaned down to plant a tiny kiss on my friend's cheek. "You're so cute, Sam." Crossing over to her own chair, she gracefully sat down. "Where's Donna? She's still not sick, is she?"
 
My friend flipped over onto his back, and took a long drink from his cocktail; I took a huge gulp of my OWN drink, after catching a glimpse of the prominent bulge that was on display thanks to his itty-bitty spandex briefs. "No, she should be fine. We got some heavy-duty Dramamine from the ship's doctor last night, and she said she felt much better this morning. In fact, the last I saw her, she was heading over to check out the gift shop."
 
Tina took a sip from her glass and sighed, "Oh, boy . . . don't get 'em like this in Stallion's Gate. I could really get used to this life." Slipping her heart-shaped sunglasses down her nose, she glanced over at me, and with a grand flourish of her hands demanded, "Al, peel me a grape!"
 
"Oh, I'll peel ya' something," I muttered, "but it ain't gonna be no grape!"
 
She sighed, "See, that's the problem with the world today . . . you just can't find good help." After taking another swallow of her tasty concoction, she asked, "Sam, can I borrow some of your lotion?"
 
"Sure, honey, here." He handed it to her, but she tossed it right over to me.
 
With a cute little smirk, she purred, seductively, "You know what to do with it, dontcha, Tiger?"
 
That, I certainly did. I changed chairs, and sat down at the foot of her lounger. Pulling one shapely gam into my lap, I slowly and methodically began lathering up her coltish leg, drawing envied looks from every male in a thirty-foot radius. From the way her toes were wiggling, and the little coos and groans she was emitting, I was afraid she'd spontaneous climax on me right then and there. Luckily, another visitor prevented that.
 
"So THIS is where everyone disappeared to!" Donna declared. "I've been searching all over for you guys!"
 
"Hiya' Dee . . . heard you're feeling better," my girl called out, in between sips of her drink. I gently lowered her leg back onto the cushion, and started in on its mate.
 
"Oh, GOD, yes! Those pills the ship's doctor gave me are a miracle drug. I feel great." She sat down on the edge of her husband's chair, and started pulling something from the small paper bag she was carrying. "Look, Sam, I got the postcards. Your mom should really like this one. What's that?" she asked, pointing to the cocktail in his hand.
 
"Only the best damn Pina Colada you'll ever taste. Here, try it . . . ."
 
She took a sip of Sam's drink, then another. "Mmmm, this IS good! How do I go about getting one?"
 
Sam was on his feet in a heartbeat. "Wait right there, my love – I'll be back in no time," and he trotted off to the bar.
 
Donna watched him walk away for a moment or two before lying back, and claiming his chair, and his drink, for her own. "He falls for it every time!" she sniggled.
 
"Oooh, Dee you are so wicked!" Tina exclaimed, with a bit too much admiration.
 
"Here's to men – life just wouldn't be as much fun without them!" Donna leaned over and clinked her half-empty glass against my girlfriend's. She seemed to suddenly notice what Tina was not wearing; her eyes grew large, and flashed briefly with interest, which she just as suddenly covered up. "My, it looks like I'm a bit over-dressed here."
 
"Nonsense, honey . . . you look great." I had to agree with Tina there. My rival was wearing a lavender one-piece suit, with a royal purple crochet wrap tied around her waist, and simple flat sandals; she had pulled her long thick brown hair up into a loose bun on top of her head. She looked sophisticated and lovely. And I hated her for it.
 
"One Colada special, for my special . . . . HEY!" Sam had come back to discover he was short one chair and one fruity drink.
 
"You snooze, you lose, sweetie," Dee giggled, as the rest of us joined in. We were all enjoying a good laugh at Sam's expense when a young waiter came by.
 
"I'm looking for a Mr. Albert Calavicci," he stated.
 
"You're looking AT a Mr. Albert Calavicci," I told him.
 
He pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it to me; I grasped it with as much enthusiasm as a court summons from one of my ex-wives. "The Captain requested that I deliver this to you, sir." He bowed slightly, and then he was gone.
 
"I'm sure he did," I grumbled under my breath. One look at the matching smirks on both Mr. and Mrs. Beckett confirmed that I had just been set up. With a suffering sigh, I asked, "Why, Sammy, why?"
 
"We figured we shouldn't be having ALL the fun," Donna said, managing to hold back her giggles.
 
Sam, now seated beside his wife, wasn't so successful, as he laughed, "It wasn't really planned, Al. I just happened to mention that I had a friend who was a Navy man, and the next thing we knew, the whole conversation turned to you . . . ."
 
"And when Captain Hillings found out you were on the ship, he INSISTED on meeting you," Dee finished.
 
Perfect. Well, there wasn't much else to do – to snub him would have been not just rude, but downright disrespectful. Don't get me wrong – I had nothing against the man personally. Hell, I never met Captain Hillings in my life. It's just I was supposed to be on a relaxing vacation. The last thing I wanted to do was get all caught up in the pomp and ceremony of my rank. It certainly put a damper on the rest of the day.
 
That night, me and Tina dressed to the nines. I dug out my service dress blues (always travel with them . . . you never know when you'll be called upon to perform your duty), and was just affixing the last row of ribbons when Tina stepped out of the bathroom. She had chosen a black velvet turtleneck thigh-length dress, with strategic holes cut out of both shoulders and a heart-shaped one below her throat; the whole dress was decorated with rhinestones that sparked as brightly as her flashing earrings and high-heeled shoes. With her hair done up in a French twist, she looked sexy and classy, and downright gorgeous. I gave her a smile, and nodded my approval. After affixing my hat on my head, she laced her arm in mine, and we were off.
 
Dinner wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. Hillings was a very charming and gracious host, although he did commit a serious faux pas when he referred to Tina as my 'lovely daughter'. Once that little bit of confusion was cleared up, dinner went smoothly, and quite enjoyably.
 
However, Tina wouldn't let it go. She had a lot of fun ribbing me the rest of the night, calling me 'papa' and 'dad' and 'pop'. But don't worry . . . I got my revenge when we got back to our room. I 'popped' her one but good . . . the 'pop' of a lifetime!

 
May 4, 2000 – DAY THREE:
 
The four of us were up with the larks, ready for the day in town. We ate a quick breakfast, and jumped ship as soon as it docked. We went mega casual – shorts and T-shirts all around. I had to laugh at Sam's choice – an old gag shirt I had gotten him years ago. It was a parody of those Co-ed Naked shirts that were so popular for a while. Against a blackboard covered with math equations, it read, "Co-ed Naked Physics . . . dedicated to proving two bodies CAN exist in the same place at the same time."
 
It was a joy to spend time with three of my favorite people (well, two, at least). We wandered down by the beach, and spent some time down by 'The Arch', one of the most spectacular spots on earth, for my money. The deep blue ocean, the white sand, and the impressive stone formations were the perfect location for a picnic lunch. Dee and I looked on as Tina and Sam frolicked in the surf; soon, their T-shirts soaking wet and see-thru. Gotta admit . . . I didn't know quite where to look.
 
After drying off in the sun, we headed for the stores. Tina had a field day, scooping up Mexican jewelry, while Donna browsed for some knickknacks to add to her home. Sam got lost in a local 'curiosity' shop, and got so wrapped up with hearing the elderly storekeeper spin yarns about local myths that we had to literally drag him out of it.
 
Myself, well, I found a cigar shop that sold my Cubans – duty-free! Now THAT'S what I call a vacation! Tina finally ripped the credit card out of my hand before I could ring up any more boxes.
 
I also made one other purchase. In a 'head' shop, I found a souvenir T-shirt that read, "Take me drunk, I'm home . . . Cabo San Lucas, Mexico." Remembering that was one of the things Sam had said the night Donna stood him up, I had to buy it for him. When I gave it to him, he laughed, and thanked me, but that was it. I sighed, knowing it had been a long shot, but one I had to try.
 
After that, we made a trip back to the ship to drop off all our treasures. We all made a quick costume change, then it was time to head back into town for our fill of the nightlife.
 
We stopped off at Mi Casa, a restaurant that was recommended to us by Captain Hillings. Set inside, and on the grounds, of an ancient, abandoned stone church, the atmosphere was charming and Old World. There we had gorged ourselves on some of the best Mexican food around. The fires of the enchiladas, quesadillas, and spicy blackened chicken fajitas were put out with a couple of rounds of Corona Lights. After our tummies were full, we headed off to El Squid Roe, perhaps the wildest nightclub in town.
 
Donna and I were sitting at one of the tables, watching Sam and Tina really cutting up the dance floor to Santana's "Smooth". My girl looked stunning in a sexy, sleeveless silver mini-shift, decorated with holographic butterflies. And Sam. Well, the boy just has no sense of style whatsoever. He was wearing yet another pair of old obscenely tight jeans, and one more of his offbeat T-shirts. This one read: **To do is to be . . . Socrates. To be is to do . . . Plato. Do-be-do-be-do . . . Sinatra.** I noticed even Dee had just shaken her head tolerantly at him when they had shown up in our room.
 
She was already working on her second Margarita, and, along with everyone in the joint, couldn't tear her eyes off her husband and his lovely dance partner. "If I ever tried to move like that, I'd throw my back out."
 
"Why do you think I'M not out there?!" I commented. "I may be old, but I'm not ready for hip-replacement surgery yet."
 
"And how she stands in those shoes, let alone Meringue in them, I'll never know."
 
Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about Sam and those jeans of his!
 
Sam spun my girl and dipped her low – she gave a little hand wave to us, which we returned with a laugh, before she was dragged away. "Sam tried to teach me how to do that once," Dee said, sipping on her drink. "But I just couldn't get the hang of it. Kept tripping over his feet, and mine. Ginger Rogers, I'm not."
 
I had found my concentration was mostly on the dancing machine in the corny T-shirt. "No offense, Dee, but I don't think even Ginger coulda kept up with him."
 
She laughed, "Maybe not, but Tina is sure doing a good job. She's incredible."
 
Her words held a strange, almost wistful, tone to them. It was only then that I remembered the past the two of them shared. I thought back to what I had seen in her eyes by the pool, when she had gazed at Tina. I could feel my blood beginning to boil – she was mooning over my girlfriend! I mean, okay, so were half the guys in the joint, but sheesh! She already had my husband, for Pete's sake – how much more did she want?
 
Whatever her real feelings may have been, they were quickly suppressed, as she took another drink of her Margarita, and sighed, "I don't think I can thank you enough for this cruise idea, Al. Sam is having so much fun. I can't remember the last time he was able to relax like this . . . he really needed this vacation."

I chuckled, as I sipped on my iced tea. (Damn, what I wouldn't have given for it to be a Long Island, but I had promised Tina – no more hard liquor. And I had already reached my two-beer limit.) "Heck, we all did."
 
The song had ended, and "Hot-Hot-Hot!" by Buster Poindexter started up. They were setting the place on fire now with a sexy rumba. Made me wish I had signed up for those ballroom dance lessons with Tina, when the Project added them to the exercise classes being offered. Not that she needed me – they made a gorgeous couple.
 
"So, when are you two going to get married, Al?"
 
"Huh?" I had been so entranced with watching the dancing duo, I had lost track of the conversation.
 
"I asked when are you going to marry Tina?"
 
I shook my head, "What is it with you and Sam lately, wanting to marry the two of us off? Do you guys know something I don't?"
 
She raised her hand, and called over the waitress, ordering Margaritas for herself and Tina, another iced tea for me, and a Tequila Fannybanger for Sam. (I didn't even want to know.) Once her order had been placed, she turned back to me, "C'mon, Al. You're crazy about that girl, almost as crazy as she is for you."
 
"And how would you know that, oh genie of the lamp?"
 
"Girls talk, Al. Tina and I were quite . . . close . . . before Sam leaped back." She had the courtesy to lower her eyes shyly when she said that. "We discussed lots of things, but she talked mostly about you, and how she feels about you. You two have been together for over five years now . . . that's longer than your last two marriages combined! Just take the plunge and marry the girl!"
 
"Are you kidding me? I've already taken the plunge five times, and they've all been belly flops. I'm lucky I haven't drowned by now."
 
She dug into the bowl of tortilla chips on the table, and dipped one into the Napalm salsa the nightclub generously provided, ensuring you'd buy more of their overpriced drinks. (Hmmm . . . she could tolerate spicy food this time around. Wonder what leap of Sam's changed THAT!) Heaving a deep sigh, she observed, "But this time will be different. You two belong together. Sam and I can see that – why can't you? You guys make such a beautiful couple."
 
"Awww, geez, Donna, stop that. I'm old enough to be . . . ."
 
She cut me off, "That doesn't matter to Tina. It never has, and you know it."
 
"But she deserves someone more her age. Someone she can grow old with. Someone who could give her a family."
 
Dark eyes, as dark as mine, assessed me. "Has she ever told you that? Do you really think she wants those things?"
 
I halted, "Well, no, but . . . ."
 
"Not every woman wants children, Al. Sam and I never did."
 
"I know, but she should have a chance to choose. I mean, what if she changes her mind in a couple of years? I'm sorry, Dee, but I don't wanna be dealing with dirty diapers when I'm 70. I ain't Charlie Chaplin!"
 
"If it'll ease your mind, Al, she never mentioned any desire for a baby in all the time I've known her." Our drinks arrived, and Dee handed the waitress some cash, telling her to keep the change, before returning to our conversation. "Look, Sam and I care about you two – you're our closest friends. We don't want to see either one of you end up alone, and regretting what might have been."
 
"You guys have put a lot of thought into this ambush, huh?" I tried to joke, desperate to get off this uneasy topic.
 
She took a sip from her glass, then regarded me, "Time waits for no man, Al, or woman. We all found that out. You should marry her – make each other happy."
 
"We are VERY happy," I argued. "And 'sides, I don't like being tied down."
 
"Oh, that's not what I'VE heard," she giggled, licking the salt off her lips.
 
I blushed profusely. "DONNA! I think you've had too many of those." God, you try something kinky once, and the whole freaking world knows about it!
 
She reached across the table, and clasped my forearm. "Awww, I was just kidding, Al. Your secret's safe with me. But it IS kinda fun, huh?"
 
I was getting a bizarre case of déjà vu. What is it with Becketts when they get drunk, and start spilling their sexual secrets? "You mean you and Sam . . .?"
 
She giggled again, as she nodded her head. "He's got these silk scarves that he likes me to use to tie him down to the . . . ." She abruptly stopped, as if realizing what she was doing, and smiled, sheepishly. "Maybe you're right . . . I HAVE had a few too many tonight."
 
GODDAMN YOU SAM! I thought to myself. I could forgive him for a lot of things that he'd done, but I COULD NOT forgive him for making Donna Elysee 'nice'! I could feel my determination to break them up starting to crumble. I had to get away from her, before I lost all my nerve.
 
Just then, Sam and Tina shimmied by our table, with half of the bar following them, taking Gloria Estefan's "Do The Conga" to heart. They passed by us just long enough to take a few gulps of their drinks, then went back to their bumping and kicking. I looked over at Dee, and rolled my eyes. "Know what, kiddo? I'm sick of sitting here while they wear out their dancing shoes. What's say the next slow song, we break up that cozy couple?"
 
"You got yerself a deal, mister," she chuckled.
 
We sat and continued to make small talk, including some more hints that me and Tina should tie the knot. A few minutes passed before we had the chance to make our move.
 
When the opening strains to Bryan Adam's "Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman" started, Donna was on her feet, laughing, "You take the blond, I'll take the one in the turban." (Aw, dammit! She even likes Young Frankenstein this time around, too! I'm gonna KILL you, Sammy!)
 
"To really love a woman, to understand her –
You gotta know her deep inside,
Hear every thought, see every dream,
And give her wings when she wants to fly,
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms . . .
Ya' know you really love a woman." 2
 
We advanced on Fred and Ginger, and each of us grabbed our respective partner. Tina seemed happy to see me, and instantly melted into my embrace. I kissed her on the side of her head, and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. I looked over at the other couple; Dee had pretty much staked her claim on Sam. Damn, they seemed so happy!
 
"When you love a woman,
you tell her that she's really wanted,
When you love a woman,
you tell her that she's the one,
'Cause she needs somebody to tell her
that it's gonna last forever,
So tell me have you ever really –
really really loved a woman?" 2
 
As I swayed to the music with my lover, I thought back to my conversation with Donna. Maybe she and Sam were on to something. Maybe I should just forget this whole silly idea of breaking them up, and marry Tina instead. I mean, would it really be so bad? What was so wrong with that concept? Okay, so she was a little young for me, but she was beautiful, and funny, and smart, and sweet. Then there was the sex. The FANTASTIC sex, and companionship that was just as good. She never made any demands of me – she never tried to change me, and I knew she never would.
 
"You got to give her some faith, hold her tight,
A little tenderness, you gotta treat her right,
She will be there for you, taking good care of you . . . .
Ya' really gotta love your woman." 2
 
Donna was right. I DID adore Tina, but was that enough? Then again, I had married for love – it only lead to heartache. If Tina could accept me for who and what I was all these years, then hell, she was one up on all the other women in my life. Stuck by me through thick and thin for over five years now. Who wouldn't want a wife like that? She could make me quite happy, and I know I could do the same for her. I had grown so much – yes, I could definitely make her happy. I'd spend every moment of every day trying to give back even a part of what she had given me all this time. No doubt about it – this was something that deserved serious consideration.
 
A new slow song started, causing Tina to curl tighter into me. I hugged her closer to me, but my mind was busy listening to the words. And lord help me, but I forgot about the lovely woman in my arms, as I watched all my carefully constructed arguments to marry Tina flying right out the window:
 
"As I look into your eyes,
I see all the reasons why,
My life's worth a thousand skies,
You're the simplest love I've known,
And the purest one I'll own,
Know you'll never be alone." 3
 
I looked over at my former lover, dancing peacefully with his wife, and thought, sadly, "Oh, Sammy, I wish you could understand. This song sums up all the feelings in my heart for you that I just can't tell you."
 
My baby you,
Are the reason I could fly,
And cause of you,
I don't have to wonder why,
Baby you,
There's no more just getting by,
You're the reason I feel so alive." 3

 
TINA:
I looked at the man in my arms, the love of my life, and thought, sadly, "Oh, Tiger, I wish you could understand. This song sums up all the feelings in my heart for you that I just can't tell you."
 
"Though these words I sing are true,
They still fail to capture you,
As mere words can only do,
How do I explain that smile,
And how it turns my world around,
Keeping my feet on the ground." 3

 
SAM:
I looked at the woman wrapped in my arms, the only woman I've ever loved, my beautiful wife, and thought, happily, "Oh, Dee . . . this song could be our song. It sums up all the feelings I have in my heart for you. I love you so much."

 
"I will sooth you if you fall,
I'll be right there if you call,
You're my greatest love of all." 3

 
DONNA:
I looked over at the woman, dancing in the arms of her lover, and thought, sadly, "Oh, Tina . . . if you only knew . . . ."
 
I tried not to think of her. I really did. But this cruise had made that virtually impossible. We spent hours together, and it was getting more difficult to avoid thinking of her, even when we were apart. Tina was in my head, and my heart.
 
She and Al were practically standing still in the middle of the dance floor, barely moving to the music. Tina had molded herself to him, as if attempting to crawl into his skin. It wouldn't surprise me if they did . . . their public displays of affection were the stuff of legends at the Project. (There was even a rumor that they had done it in the Accelerator before it went online!)
 
They were quite a gorgeous couple, despite Al's protestations. And watching them together, it was obvious how much they cared about each other. I knew for a fact Tina was madly in love with the Admiral, though she'd never admit it to him. I think she was afraid of scaring him off, that if he felt the relationship was 'getting serious', he'd break it off. That was sure to break Tina's heart.
 
Al was right. They WERE happy, one of the happiest couples I've ever seen, and compatible, despite all their differences. That's not to say they didn't have their fights. Of course they did. All couples do. There were the usual ones, about Al's womanizing, and Tina's fraternizing with the military personal. (Most notably Sam's brother, Tom.) And the unusual ones, dealing with the daily crises at the Project. Let's be honest, Al was used to people obeying his every command. He didn't cotton much to his girlfriend showing him up, especially in the Control Room. But Tina had a way with Albert – she had more than enough charms to soothe the savage beast.
 
I only saw Tina really mad once, and boy, I hope I'm not around when it happens again. When that Irish temper of hers flares up, look out! Not that I could blame her that time. Al was acting particularly unbearable – okay, so he had a good reason. Sam had leaped into Lee Harvey Oswald, and his actions and behavior were getting more and more bizarre with each passing hour. Al wanted him out of there, NOW, and was threatening to use the Accelerator himself if he had to.
 
Well, Tina put her foot down. Literally. Hands on her hips, she stomped her little high-heeled foot with as much force as she could and said, "No!" Have you ever seen a mad Barbie doll? Everyone in that room was having trouble not breaking into a smile. Even Al just quirked an eyebrow, and busted up laughing.
 
That certainly didn't sit well with the fiery blonde. She crossed her arms across her ample chest, and demanded to know what was so funny. Her comment only made Al laugh harder. I thought she was going to pound him. She advanced on him, and started shouting at him, in that squeaky little-girl voice of hers, about how we were all sick and tired of his schoolyard bully routine and that we were all trying our best and he could help out a little more instead of acting like an irrational, insensitive blowhard and that he should stop thinking of himself for once and start thinking about how Sam would survive if he managed to get his own sorry ass lost in time, too.
 
A hush fell over the whole room during her tirade. Boy, she wasn't even that angry when Sam leaped into San Francisco and Al kept trying to manipulate the leap so Beth would wait for him to come back from 'Nam. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gooshie approaching the couple, I guess to protect Tina in case Al took a swing at her. I mean, NO ONE talked to Al that way. And he looked more shocked than anyone else there. We all watched, with bated breath, as he walked up to her and gently wrapped her in a hug. She struggled at first, still furious at him, but he just held on, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Tina. You're right, darling. You're absolutely right. I was wrong . . . I'm sorry."
 
This was a most interesting development. Albert Calavicci, in front of a roomful of co-workers, and subordinates, just admitted he was wrong. Call Ripley's, but I'd bet even THEY wouldn't believe this! He held her until she stopped shaking, tenderly kissed her on the temple, then announced, "Okay, gang, let's get back to work, and get Sam out of this." With one last caress of her tear-streaked cheek, he turned his attention to Ziggy's control panel.
 
That day, I realized that Al loved Tina just as much, if not more so, than she loved him. And I guess that was the day I was determined to see my two good friends live happily ever after.
 
The music changed to another romantic ballad, "Could I Have This Kiss Forever?" by Enrique Iglesias. I guess it inspired the two lovebirds dancing beside us. Tina leaned over and began kissing Al. Of course he responded in kind. He'd be a fool not to. Tina was a great kisser. I was suddenly envious of him, even as Sam was nuzzling my neck.
 
I missed Tina.
 
Oh, please, don't misunderstand me. The greatest day of my life was the moment when Sam leaped home to me for good. I was so happy, and so relieved, I cried for hours. Being able to hold him, kiss him, make love with him again and keep him safe after so long, was, without question, heaven on earth.
 
But Tina . . . Tina was special. She came to me at a time when I was literally at the end of my rope. Sam had just stepped back into the Accelerator to save Al's life and I thought MY life was over. I had lost the only man I had ever really loved, and the chances of getting him back a second time was slim and none. When the retrieval program failed, the one he assured me would work, I simply gave up. I barely remember slumping out of the Control Room, let alone the next few days.
 
Then, one afternoon, Tina was there. In my apartment. I don't know how she got in, although with the access she had to Ziggy, I'm sure she was able to get past the security lock. She took me in her arms, and just let me cry it all out. She listened as I yelled and screamed and cursed out my husband, and then just held me tighter.
 
I felt safe in her arms, reassured and loved. We had always been friends, but never this close. I guess I was rather surprised that of everyone on the Project, it was Tina who would be the one to help me, to comfort me, to turn me around and give me the courage to go on.
 
We were inseparable over the next couple of weeks. She took me shopping, and to the movies. We'd go out for lunches, and giggle like schoolgirls when guys would try to pick us up. It had been a long while since I had such carefree times, and I looked forward to each new day for the first time in a long time, knowing I'd get to spend it with Tina.
 
And then, one night, it just happened. We were at my place, sitting on the couch, watching Lethal Weapon 3. One bottle of red wine was already down, and we were about halfway done the second one, so we were feeling no pain. I made some comment about how lucky Rene Russo was to be able to have that steamy scene with Mel Gibson, when Tina shocked me by saying that MEL was the lucky one, to be making out with Rene. I remember looking at her oddly, just as she leaned over and . . . and she kissed me. It was only on the cheek, but it startled me. I gazed at her, and saw an odd look in her sparkling eyes that had nothing to do with alcohol. Before I could say a word she leaned forward, and kissed me again, this time on the lips.
 
I should have pulled away. I KNOW I should have, but I couldn't. She was a great kisser, and I needed to be kissed. That one night I had with Sam had only re-ignited the fire within me that I had spent four years suppressing. When she slipped her tongue between my lips, I almost lost my hold on my wine glass, and I almost lost my mind!
 
We parted just long enough to put our glasses down on the coffee table, before she pushed me back into the sofa cushions, and covered me with her soft, sexy body. Her mouth found mine once more, and I couldn't have stopped her if I had wanted to . . . and I didn't want to. My hands were everywhere – in her hair, caressing her back, cupping her behind – as she lovingly laved my lips, my tongue, my teeth, touching off shock waves through my whole body.
 
I savored every moment, as a lifetime fantasy seemed to be on the verge of coming true – to have sex with another girl. The fact that the girl was Tina, my friend, and one of the sexiest people I've ever known, just made it that much better. There had been one time, when I was in college. My roommate and I had gone out on the town, and after a few drinks, she confessed to me she was bi-sexual. That night, we made out in her car – just kissing and she 'felt me up' outside a local nightclub. It had been wonderful, in a forbidden kind of way. Nothing else had ever happened with Deb, but I never forgot that night, and how she made me feel.
 
Now, 20 years later, Tina was making a play for me . . . and I was letting her. This time, I knew, it wouldn't stop with just some kissing. This time, I'd learn all the secrets I was always afraid of before.
 
Sometime during our grappling, her shirt had ended up on the floor. It was only as I gazed upon her perfect, naked breasts that I realized she had somehow divested me of my top as well. She pulled me into a sitting position, and skillfully removed my bra. Perhaps she could feel the sudden apprehension in the air, because she pulled me forward, and kissed me again. The feel of her hard nipples against mine drove me wild – I brought my hands up to caress those little nubs, causing her to groan loudly.
 
Without warning, I found myself pushed backwards, and Tina's mouth trailed from my neck to my own stiff tits. I was so preoccupied with the exquisite feelings shooting from my chest to my crotch as she sucked on the nipple, I barely noticed that her hands had glided up my skirt, and she had slipped my panties off. I only discovered it because her fingers pried me open, and began rubbing my clit. She quickly brought me to climax that way, then kissed her way over to my other boob, and did it again.
 
It was all so sublime, I wished I hadn't waited so long to finally experience it. If I had only known, I would've been chasing after Deb all through college. After the second orgasm, she inched her way up, and deep kissed me, as I basked in the afterglow. She then curled up in my arms, and we fell asleep on the couch.
 
I slept like a baby that night – between the wine, and my sated sexual needs, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so relaxed. The next morning I got my chance to reciprocate, and thank Tina for the night before. It was the start, as they say, of a beautiful friendship.
 
There were days I felt guilty about what we were doing. I couldn't help but feel like I was cheating on Sam – perhaps because I was. Then again, he was cheating on me, too.
 
But it wasn't the same, and I understood that. He didn't remember me, or our lives together. I couldn't blame him for trying to find some comfort where he could. Still, it was hard knowing about his affairs, especially with Tamlyn. Al was a dear, trying to keep as much from me as he could, but I still found out, and it hurt. A lot.
 
I guess that's why I didn't try to stop Tina's visits – didn't WANT to stop her visits. It was nice to have someone who cared about me. She always seemed to know exactly when I needed her, either because I was stressed, or depressed, and she'd be ringing my doorbell.
 
For the most part, it was a tender, caring relationship. I treasured the nights we'd put on some quiet music, and she'd slow dance with me in a candle-lit room, just holding me and kissing me gently. Soon, I found I not only looked forward to our times together, but also craved them. She filled a hole in me, in my heart, and for that I'll always be eternally grateful.
 
Of course, there was the sex, too. Forbidden and taboo, but so satisfying. We slowly moved from the simple kissing and petting to other, more advanced sexual acts. She was an oral artiste, and took pleasure in teaching me how to pleasure her. (To say she was surprised when I crawled between her legs and tasted her for the first time is an understatement, but no more surprised than I was with myself.) She was such a genius in the ways of erotica, and I ached for her very touch. Sometimes I felt bad about monopolizing her time, but she made sure Gooshie and Verbena, and especially Al, were never neglected.
 
Since Sam had come home, this was really the most time I had spent with her. Sam has been very frisky (and creative . . . guess he learned more on those leaps than we thought!), and I must confess, I haven't exactly been able to keep my hands off him, either. If we're not at the Project, we're together, alone, making up for lost time.
 
And even though our friends have been very understanding of our desire for solitude, it's been a joy to be out with our closest pals once more, even if it's been rather frustrating. Some of those outfits Tina has been squeezing herself into have set off memories that maybe I would be better off repressing – like the one about the night that she brought over a bagful of 'toys' and we played until the sun came up.
 
A kiss on my neck, and Sam's masculine voice crooning to the current love song brought me out of my daydream. I smiled up at my handsome husband, and offered up the lips he was seeking. The guilt instantly overwhelmed me – here I was thinking of Tina when I held a miracle in my arms. A sexy, wonderful, caring, gentle miracle. Every moment since Sam returned home to me has been treasured in my heart. As he pulled back from me, I stole a glance at Tina and Al, still locked in their passionate embrace, and sighed, sadly.
 
God forgive me, I missed her.

 
May 5, 2000 – DAY FOUR:

TINA:
 
I wandered out of the bathroom, my head pounding (those Margaritas were awesome, but I ended up completely plastered) to find Al had already left; there was a note on the bed that said he was picking up Dee and Sam, and to meet them all by the pool for the breakfast buffet. I hurried into my clothes and made my way up to the Lido deck.
 
Well, I found Al, but no sign of the Becketts. I went down the line and grabbed an English muffin and a cup of tea, about all I could handle at the moment. My lover stared at me as I made my way to the table – I could see from his look that he was smitten with my latest outfit. "You're looking very naughty . . . I mean, NAUTICAL . . . today, my dear," he fairly leered.
 
"You like?" I smiled, and showed it off before I took a seat. It was quite a winner: button-up white hot pants with gold stars stitched on the back pockets and a little white sports bra with an embroidered anchor in the middle – the whole thing was capped off, literally, with a jaunty imitation Captain's hat. (The 3-inch high gold ankle-strap sandals were totally my idea.) "When I saw in one of those little shops yesterday, I knew I had to have it. Where are the good doctor and the missus?"
 
Even as I said it, I couldn't help but stare at the carcinogen-riddled breakfast my lover had piled on his plate – two fried eggs, four strips of bacon, buttered toast and a heaping pile of home fries. And, of course, his ever-present cigar. If that meal didn't kill him, nothing would. When he called over the steward for another cup of coffee, I took advantage of his inattention to snag a home fry off his plate.
 
Once he had gotten his java, he turned back to me and answered, "Indisposed. The 'Do Not Disturb' sign was still hanging on the doorknob."
 
I took a sip of tea before replying, "I'm not surprised, after all the noises that were coming out of that room last night."
 
"You had to remind me?" he asked, dejectedly.
 
I speared another home fry, saying, "Don't know why you're so upset – you were making some pretty wild noises yourself last night." I lowered my voice and growled, "Tiger," then popped the potato in my mouth.
 
Al glared at me. "Grrrrrrr," he deadpanned, and puffed on his cigar.
 
"Well, I just hope they're up for touring Mazatlan today."
 
"Getting 'up' doesn't seem to be a problem with them," he muttered, sarcastically.
 
The comment hung in the air a couple of minutes while I nibbled at my muffin, and Al sipped his coffee. I hated this. It was usually so easy to talk to my lover, but what I had to discuss with him, well, there was just no easy way of broaching it. Not knowing what else to do, I jumped in with both feet. "You know, Al, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."
 
Chomping on a piece of toast, he mumbled, "Whazzat?"
 
I took a deep breath before I continued, "Well, you know I adore you, and I love having you around, but what the hell are you still doing in our stateroom? You're supposed to be in Sam's bed by now – that 'Do Not Disturb' sign should be for you two."
 
"Well, we haven't really had any time alone to talk . . ." he stalled.
 
"That's bull, Al, and we both know it. You two have had plenty of opportunities to be alone, but you keep avoiding them." A steward came by just then – good-looking blonde guy, 20ish or so. Almost reminded me of that Ted character from the TV show. I stopped him and I asked, with a couple of bats of my eyelashes, if he could please bring me another cup of tea. He smiled at me, bowed slightly, and scurried off to do my bidding. Oooh! I gotta get me one of them when I get back to New Mexico!
 
Turning back to Al, I asked him, "I've got an idea. What if I take Donna shopping today in town, just the two of us? Then you and Sam can go to a bar or something together and talk and get this all straightened . . . ."
 
Before I could finish my thought, he interrupted me, "Babydoll, I've been thinking . . . ."
 
I snatched a couple more home fries. "Uh-oh . . . you KNOW that always frightens me, Al."
 
Concentrating his attention on dunking the toast into one of the egg yolks, he continued, "Maybe we should, you know, maybe WE should get married."
 
"WHAT?!" I almost choked on a chunk of potato.
 
He started talking real fast, "It'll be real nice, Tina. We could do it right here on the ship – Captain Hillings could perform the ceremony and we . . . ."
 
"Just stop, right there, Albert!" I cut him off. "Don't you dare even THINK about making me Mrs. Calavicci number six!"
 
"But sweetheart . . ." he supplicated.
 
I held up a hand to prevent him from finishing his lame explanation. "Dammit, Bingo! You PROMISED to never mention the 'm' word in my presence! What is WRONG with you anyway?! This cruise was to get you and Sam together, not us!"
 
He shrugged, poking at his poor eggs with the soggy toast. "I know . . . it's just I . . . I just . . . I can't do it, Tina. I . . . I can't break up Sam and Donna."
 
"Why not?" I wanted to know.
 
"C'mon, babe, you've seen him with her. He's as happy as a pig in shit."
 
I looked down at my plate, "Very appetizing mental picture, Al."
 
Slamming down his fork, he shouted, "I mean it, Tina!" He seemed shocked by his outburst, and continued, in a much softer voice, "I can't ask Sam to choose between us."
 
It didn't take a genius to understand what he wasn't saying. "You're afraid you'll lose," I said, knowingly. "That he'll pick Donna over you."
 
"Yes – no – yes . . . I don't know," he answered, decisively. Munching on a strip of bacon, he sighed, "There's no way I can possibly compete against her. He loves her too much."
 
"He loves you, too. He just doesn't remember how much, that's all. He needs a little kick in the butt." I stole another home fry.
 
"Well, what if he never remembers? That timeline never existed for anyone but me. Who gave me the right to dictate to him which timeline he should live in?"
 
Just then, the hunky steward came back with my cup of tea. I thanked him, and gave him a smile guaranteed to make his pressed pants tight for the next hour. (I can be such a bad girl when I want to.) Once he was out of earshot, I told Al, "Do you really think the timelines have anything to do with this? A love like you two had would reach across time and space. Sam just needs a little mental goose. You have to at least try."
 
He ate a bit more of his meal. "Tina, after seeing them together the last few days . . . if I tell Sam how I feel, what we used to have, it'll tear him apart. I can't do that to him. I WON'T do that to him."
 
That made me mad for some reason. Maybe because he didn't seem to care how this was tearing ME apart. "Oh, so you'll just marry me instead and that'll solve everything?! I'm nuts about you, Tiger, but I'm NOT going to be a consolation prize for you or any man!"
 
Shaking his head, he sighed, "That's not it at all, Tina, and you know it."
 
"Then what is it, Al? Huh? Tell me, please! What is in that noggin' of yours?"
 
He looked at me, and I could see the pain and fear in his deep brown eyes. I thought myself an expert when it came to his eyes, but even I had never seen such despair in them before. "If I tell him . . . I'm afraid he'll hate me, and I'll lose him forever. I'd rather have just his friendship than nothing at all. I wouldn't be able to go on without him in my life."
 
"Al, honey, you're barely 'going on' with things the way they are. This loss, this separation, is killing you. And don't say it's not – I can see it in your eyes. You love him too much to be 'just friends', and that love, that hunger, that desire for him will rip your friendship apart anyway."
 
Burying his face in his hands, I barely heard his plea, "I'm so afraid, honey. It's such a big risk to take. I could lose everything."
 
"You're a gambling man, Al," I reminded him.
 
"Yeah, but the stakes have never been this high before."
 
He was right, of course. This action of his was going to be affecting a lot of lives, not just his and Sam's. It WAS a big gamble. After thinking for a few minutes, while we both ate in silence, I asked, quietly, "Al, what if the choice wasn't Sam's to make?"
 
"What do you mean?"
 
An idea was forming in my head . . . an idea that may solve all our problems. "Well, what if DONNA made the choice for him? Would that make you feel less guilty?"
 
I was met with a blank gaze. "And how do you propose to get Dee to give Sam up?"
 
I just flashed an enigmatic smirk, "I have my ways. Look, I'll take care of everything – just don't question my tactics, okay?"
 
I could see the uncertainty in his face. "I don't know, Tee . . . ."
 
"Trust me, Al."
 
He finished off his eggs, and smiled. "Okay, kid – I put myself in your hands."
 
"Wouldn't be the first time."
 
"No, it wouldn't. And you have such talented hands." He took a puff on his cigar, and gave a self-depreciating chuckle, "I'd really be that bad of a husband, huh?"
 
I reached across the table, and took his hand. "No . . . I'd really be that bad of a wife."
 
That got a legitimate laugh from him. "Nah, you'd be perfect, Babydoll."
 
I smiled, sweetly, "So would you, Tiger." I leaned over and purred, "May I?"
 
"You have to ask, hon?" as he leaned forward, too, pucker at the ready. Don't know when he figured out I wasn't asking to kiss him, but he suddenly opened his eyes to see me swipe his last piece of bacon. He gave an exasperated sigh, "Tina, if you wanted the same breakfast as me, why didn't you grab some from the buffet line?"
 
"Silly boy!" I scolded, crunching on the bacon. "There's no calories if it's stolen from someone else's plate. Didn't you know that?"
 
They probably heard his laughter back at Alamogordo.
 

 
The Becketts finally joined us, just as we were disembarking the ship. Donna was in pretty rough shape, but Sam, geez, he was a disaster. Wearing cut-off jean shorts, Birkenstocks, and a T-shirt that had a picture of a cow playing basketball with a cornfield in the background (the tag-line read simply, **Indiana Landscape**), he looked like a Woodstock refugee. I glanced over at Al, and I knew he had had enough. There was nothing wrong with casual, but this time Sam had crossed the line. The big Cinco de Mayo party was on board the ship that night, and there was no telling what horrors Sam was going to pull out of his closet.
 
Once we set foot on terra firma, Al grabbed Sam's right arm, I grabbed his left, and we dragged him, kicking and screaming, to the trendiest clothing store in Matazlan – the Something Unique Boutique. Dee and Al had a field day, digging out one colorful outfit after another. She was ecstatic over the chance to re-make her husband's wardrobe. Me? I just sat back and enjoyed the show, giving my own personal thumbs up or thumbs down.
 
While lots of shirts and pants ended up on the 'to buy' pile, the get-up we all decided on for the party was a knockout: yellow linen slacks, a silk shirt streaked with reds, oranges, and golds, and a pair of wine colored Florsheims wing-tips (with matching leather belt).
 
One word: HOT! Sam looked like he had stepped right out of the pages of GQ. Even he seemed impressed – we couldn't drag him away from the mirror. And Al. God, I thought he was going to trip over his tongue. How Sam and Dee missed his lustful stares, I'll never know.
 
And while the credit cards were out, I decided it was time for Donna to get a fashion makeover of her own. After all, this was a party, and sometimes Dee's stuff could be a little conservative. We ended up buying matching flamenco dresses – her's in yellow with black lace; mine in red. Al joked that with all the ruffles on the halter-tops and the slit skirts cut up to our hips, we looked like a Vegas Strip version of Carmen.
 
That night, we partied our asses off at the Cinco de Mayo celebration. The whole ship was decorated, and even the staff got into the spirit, dressed as they were in Mexican costumes, including huge Sombreros. The buffet that they set out was fantastic, containing every Mexican dish imaginable . . . and others that weren't. We ate our fill, and then some, before we headed to the ballroom, where they had an authentic Mariachi band playing.
 
We sat around, enjoying the music and the company. Sam and Al had us in stitches regaling tales from MIT and their Star Bright days, which Donna refused to either dispute or substantiate. It was wonderful, but sad, too. I had a feeling that if my plan worked, nights like this would be a thing of the past. So I just sat back, enjoying and cherishing perhaps our last evening together.
 
Around 10 p.m., everyone went out onto the Promenade deck to watch the fireworks that were being set off on Matazlan's shore. Al held me close as we soaked in the magic show under the stars. It was so beautiful and so perfect, I never wanted it to end. But end it did, so we all trundled back into the ballroom, where Sam and I dragged our partners onto the dance floor, and taught them how to Salsa like pros.
 
The four of us totally stole the show, and were the center of attention for most of the evening. (I even got to mamba with Captain Hillings!) We laughed and danced and sang into the wee hours of the morning, until we almost collapsed from having too much fun.
 
At my insistence, we all went back to our room for a nightcap. While Al placed an order to room service (or should I say, cabin service?) for a bottle of champagne, I excused myself to use the little girls' room . . . and set my plan into motion.
 
I stripped off my dress, and dug out the bag I had hidden under the sink, which constituted Stage One. As quickly as I could, I pulled on the few clothes I had put aside: my red lace front-hook Rawhide bra (you know – round 'em up, move 'em out) and matching frilly crotchless panties, thigh-high nylons with a ruffled red garter belt, and 5" red fuck-me pumps. I did a quick touch-up on my makeup, and fluffed up my hair.
 
Taking a look in the door-length mirror, I stopped, contemplating what I was about to do.
 
I was a little scared. I never used sex for such a fiendish purpose before. I never used it as a weapon. With my looks, I could have easily slept my way to a very posh life, but that was never my style. I always believed sex was a beautiful gift to be shared with those you care about, and that it should be given without ties.
 
But tonight was to be different. I was about to seduce one of my best friends. We had to force Dee's hand into letting Sam go. It was our only chance, if Al was ever to find happiness, and for him, I was willing to take the risk. I waited until I heard the waiter leave the room, then, with one last jiggle of my boobs to help them settle in their half-cups, I made my grand entrance.
 
They were all standing around, glasses of champagne in their hands, toasting the night and their friendship and anything else they could think of. Dee and Sam had their backs to the bathroom – only Al could see me, and his eyes almost popped out when he did. The others must have noticed his reaction because they turned and stared at me, mouths agape.
 
Striding over to Al, I took the glass from his hand, gave him a wink as I mouthed 'Trust me', and turned to our startled friends. "I get to make the next toast," I declared to everyone, and no one. Raising the glass high, I decreed, "Dreams are meant to be lived, not imagined." I gulped down the contents of the glass, and handed it back to Al as I stepped over to Dr. Beckett and his wife.
 
"Tee . . . Tina?" Sam stammered, his cheeks burning a brighter red than my garter when I ran a canvassing hand down his chest. "Wha . . . what's going on here?"
 
"There's magic in the air, sweetie. You can feel it all around us – and it'd be a shame to waste it. Tonight, I'm going to make all your fantasies come true."
 
His eyes got that deer-in-the-headlights fright about them. "Wha . . . what do you mean?"
 
"I mean . . . this cruise is getting boring. I'm going to liven it up a bit. Is that okay with you, Al honey?"
 
"We're in your hands, Babydoll," he answered behind me.
 
So with his permission, I snagged Sam's shirt by the neckline, and pulled him close. Pursing my lips, I brushed them lightly, barely a whisper, across the stunned man's mouth then quickly released him to turn my attention to my main target.
 
Donna stood there, stock still, watching me manhandle her husband. But instead of outrage, there was curiosity in her eyes, and something else – jealousy. My plan was working. I strode over to her, stopping only an inch or two away from her, our chests almost touching. Running one blood red fingernail down her neck, I cooed, "Ooooh, Donna, honey, I've missed you. And I KNOW you've missed me. I've seen the way you've been looking at me."
 
Her eyes never left mine, even as her mouth opened to protest. But I didn't let her – I captured her mouth with mine, preventing anything she may have been thinking of saying. A muffled whimper – from her? from me? I don't know – and her arms encircled my waist, pulling me in close. I wrapped my arms around her neck, and licked her lips with my tongue. It didn't take more than a second or two before she opened her mouth and let me in.
 
From behind me I was aware of embarrassed unease, and the shocked gasps from the two men in the room with us. But as her hands slipped down to cup my buns, crushing our pelvises together, I stopped caring about who was watching us.
 
I felt myself being pushed backward into the wall, and desperate hands fondling my body. Fingers unclasped my bra – the lacy material fell to each side as Dee's hot mouth covered my right tit, nibbling and sucking it skillfully. I threw my head back and squealed in delight, pushing her down lower and lower until . . . .
 
SAM:
 
This couldn't be happening! This just COULDN'T be happening! It was just too bizarre to be true! Donna was on her hands and knees . . . she was . . . OH BOY!
 
I watched in horror as my beautiful Donna went down on Al's girlfriend. Tina was backed up against the wall, her right leg thrown over Dee's shoulder to give my wife better access to her most intimate regions. The girl's blond head was tossed back, whimpers and moans issuing from her blood red 'O'd lips, as she kneaded her own naked breasts.
 
Things like this happened in porno films, NOT in real life, and certainly NOT in my presence! But like any good car wreck on the side of the highway, I couldn't pull my eyes from it if my life depended on it.
 
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Al standing there, just as spellbound. I thought he'd do something to put a stop to this insanity, but instead, he just added to it by whispering, "Looks like fun, huh, Sammy?"
 
I turned to face him, and there was the strangest look in his eyes, a look I had never seen before . . . well, at least not directed at me: pure desire. "Al?" I asked, hesitantly, as I took a step back. He stepped forward, so I took another step back. He again stepped forward, and I again stepped back . . . and tripped on the foot of the bed. I fell over backwards, and watched in horror as Al advanced on me.
 
He half-knelt beside me on the mattress, one leg on the floor to maintain his balance, and began leaning in on me. "Oh, baby, I've waited five years for this," he murmured.
 
I was dreaming. That was the only explanation why I didn't fight, or run – I was too stunned to move. I managed to get out one last panicked, "Al?" before his mouth covered mine.
 
Oh God, Al was kissing me! That thought woke me from my paralysis. I grabbed his shoulders and tried to shove him away from me, but he would not be denied. He seized my wrists, and pushed them flat over my head; the position brought him flush with my body, as his kiss deepened in passion and intensity. Down below, I could feel his erection pressing into my thigh.
 
The whole freaking world was going crazy! To the music of Tina's moans in the background, Al's tongue sought out my own. I tried to resist, tried not to think what my best friend was doing to me, tried to take my mind away from the madness in that room, and then . . . and then . . . .
 
A memory. Al and me, on a tropical beach. It was late, midnight, and we were kissing under the stars, the surf lapping around us. And another – a hotel room this time. I was pinned under Al, much as I was now . . . he was in me. I could feel him, deep to my soul, as he pumped into me, crying my name.
 
Then a segment. A snippet. A fragment of time. We were at the Project, in the little on-site chapel. Gooshie was there, and Bena, and Mom, and Katie – not many people. No Donna. No Tina. No Tom. Al and I – we were exchanging rings near the tiny altar.
 
Then so many flashing so quickly – our house, our backyard, Al's office at the Project, outside a resort in Vegas, at a Lakers game, Katie's place in Hawaii – memories were flooding my mind, memories that I didn't have just seconds before. Memories without Donna or Tom . . . but definitely with Al. Memories of another time. Memories of a life with Al, as my partner, my lover – my spouse.
 
It was so overwhelming, I was afraid of passing out. But then I realized it was only because Al was still kissing me, and I was in need of oxygen. Pulling away, I took a deep breath, and gazed up into his dark brown eyes, eyes possessing a hundred timelines and a thousand sorrows.
 
Oh God, what had I done to this man? How could I ever make it up to him? Why didn't he hate me as much as I hated myself at that moment?
 
Since my arms were useless, I lifted my right leg, and curled it around his hip, meshing our lower bodies together – by the shocked look on his face I was sure he could feel my erection, as hard and as hot as his. I gave him a big smile and raised my head off the bed until I could kiss his chin. That got the message across nicely, and he lowered his mouth back to mine.
 
We continued to make out like that, only a foot or two away from Tina and Donna, who were quite wrapped up in their own merrymaking. Knowing how crazy I was driving Al, and wanting to find out what other memories he could unlock, I broke off our lip-lock to gasp, "Al, maybe we should give the girls some privacy, huh?"
 
A leer crossed his face, and his eyes twinkled in amusement. "You've got it, baby." He got off the bed and helped me to my feet. As we slipped past our women, Al reached out and caressed Tina's cheek. She turned her flushed face to us, and in between impassioned moans, gave a sweet little smile. Al brushed her lips with his, then we were off.
 

 
We stood naked in the middle of the room, just wrapped around each other, our mouths glued together. I could feel his erection still burning my leg, but it was no longer scary, just exciting. Our hands roamed all over the place, as our lips and tongues danced and played. It was Al that made the first move; he gently pushed me onto the bed, and slid gracefully to his knees in front of me.
 
He purred, "It's been so long since I tasted you, baby," and I watched in fascination as he bent down, licking his full pink lips. A kiss landed on the very tip of my penis, his lips lingering for a delicious moment before his tongue swiped out across the little slit, causing me to throw my head back and groan loudly. But that was just the beginning, as his hot mouth descended along my cock, not stopping until he had swallowed every inch of me; seeing his curly salt & pepper head bobbing up and down between my legs was the most erotic thing I had witnessed. I felt my eyes roll into my head and I feared I might just pass out from the extraordinary sensations.
 
It was never like this with Donna. For her, oral sex was always a chore, when I could even persuade her to do it at all. Not that our sex life was unsatisfactory. On the contrary, it was beyond fulfilling, but she never could quite get the grasp of a really good blowjob . . . something Al obviously didn't have a problem with. By now his lips and tongue had worked their way downward, and had begun licking and nibbling around my sensitive balls. For minutes, hours, days, he feasted before inching back up my rock-hard shaft. When he reached the head he engulfed it, and proceeded to try to suck my brains out through my cock-head.
 
I tried to hold back, partly from a need not to hurt Al, and partly to prolong the pleasure, but with the magic his mouth was performing, that was damn near impossible. I flopped down backwards on the bed, and kicked it into overdrive. My hips started bucking of their own accord, pushing myself even deeper down his throat. He grasped my legs, to try to control me, but I was too far-gone.
 
Oh, boy! He pulled his mouth completely off me, allowing the chilled air in the room to envelope my over-heated organ. I cried out in both surprise and suffering. "AL! What the hell . . .?"
 
He crawled up over me, covering me with his sweaty body, his own hard-on burning a sticky trail up my leg. "Sorry, baby – but I've waited too long to let it end like that. I want more, Sammy." As he said this, one hand reached under me and ran along my crack, a finger rubbing gentle, fluttery little circles across my hole. And I knew what he wanted . . . because I wanted it, too. I closed my eyes, and allowed my mouth to be plundered once more by his, as I lost myself to his touch.
 
I scooted my way up the bed, Al still attached to my lips, until we reached the headboard. He finally broke away from me long enough to gasp out, "Condom."
 
SHIT! I stared up into his chocolate brown eyes, filled with fire and desire, and confessed, "Donna's on the pill . . . we don't use them."
 
He released a deep breath, and quirked his head. "Dammit! Do you think the gift shop is still open?"
 
My hands skimmed over his shoulders, down his still trim waist, past his hips, and along his thighs, raising goose bumps over his sensitive skin. Kissing my way up to his ear, I find myself saying words I never expected to be speaking in this lifetime. "We don't need a condom, Al . . . I just need you."
 
I could tell from his expression he was both shocked and excited by what I had said, but he shook his head 'no'. "Ahh, I haven't exactly been a saint all these years, Sam. I'm pretty sure I'm fine, but I won't put you at risk if I'm not."
 
I was moved by his honesty and concern, but yet, all I wanted to do at that moment was get down 'n dirty with him, damn the consequences. Still, I knew he was right. "Oh well," I murmured, running my hands back up his thighs until they rested on his hips. "I suppose if we've waited this long . . . "
 
His disappointed sigh echoed mine, even as he crushed my mouth with his, our tongues parrying and thrusting against each other. My hands, with minds of their own, cupped his behind, kneading the fleshy mounds, and pulling him tighter to me.
 
He was in the middle of sucking on my lower lip, grazing it with his teeth (sooooo HOT!!) when he suddenly yanked himself away. I gave him a questioning look – was this going to be a trend? Get me all worked up and put on the brakes? But no . . . he was off the bed, and digging around in his pants pockets until he pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he gave a triumphant cry. And there, in his hand, was the most beautiful shiny metallic packet I'd ever seen. "Always be prepared," he smirked.
 
"And you call ME a Boy Scout," I teased, as he climbed back onto the bed and crawled between my legs.
 
"Well, Boy Scout," he leered, as he ripped the packet with his teeth, "got anything good and slippery I can use?"
 
Crap! Everything was in the bathroom . . . no, wait! I reached over and pulled open the bureau drawer – yes! It was still there. I grabbed the bottle and handed it to him. "Will this do?"
 
He just looked at the label and started to laugh. I had no idea why he would find Donna's expensive foot lotion funny, so I asked, "Is something wrong, Al?"
 
"No . . . ahhh, just an acid flashback."
 
I chuckled. "I don't think I want to know."
 
"Probably not," he agreed. By now, he had squeezed some of the cream into his hands; one slick finger soon found its target, caressing my hole gently but insistently until it was finally granted admittance. Having gone through this in medical exams for years I found the sensation not unusual, but this time it was far more satisfying.
 
I splayed my legs wider for him, giving him more access to what he wanted. A second finger joined its mate . . . a bit uncomfortable at first, yet . . . familiar. Scenes flashed in my mind's eye, scenes of other times when Al prepared me like this. Always tender and loving – always with much concern for me. All I had to do was relax. I knew that. Just relax, and it would get better quicker. But my heart was pounding in excitement – I was anxious and nervous and so turned-on all at once that relaxing was the last thing I could think of doing.
 
Al seemed to sense my distress, however, and was unbelievably patient with me. He placed his left hand (the one not currently in service) flat on my chest, and began stroking and soothing me from without as the other did within, cooing sounds of comfort as he worked. My head rolled from side to side on the pillow, non-human sounds escaping my lips. Oh boy, I had never been so ready in my whole life.
 
And Al knew the instant he had me. The fingers withdrew to be replaced with something larger, and hotter, and ohmigod, before I knew it, Al had breached me. I cried out in agony and pleasure – it hurt, yet it didn't. Was I maybe just afraid of the IDEA of what was happening? The fact that I was allowing a man to know me in such an intimate way, even if it WAS Al? That I was finally living out my darkest fantasy, one I had carried with me since my teen years, when Seth and I would fool around in the haystacks out behind the barn? That a man was finally fucking me?
 
I was so confused. I had never felt anything like it, and yet, in a way, I had. The memories my brain provided me told me that. Years of being Al's lover, this scene had been played many, many times. Just give it a second, Beckett – maybe two. It'll get better. Just relax.
 
Again, Al knew. He stopped his actions, giving me a moment to collect myself. I risked opening my eyes, only to find myself gazing up into those lethal dark brown eyes of his, twinkling with happiness and desire. I reached up a hand to caress his face – his oh-God-it's-so-handsome-it's-painful face. And suddenly, it was okay, and he knew it was okay, and began pushing deeper within me until his body lay on top of mine.
 
He was in me completely now. The feeling was new and old and uncomfortable and pleasant and oh boy, I was so fucking hard I could pound nails. How could I not remember this? How could I have forgotten me and Al and this? I wrapped my legs around his waist and groaned out those three little words I knew he had waited forever to hear from me again . . . .
 
"Fuck me, Al."
 
His beaming smile told me everything I ever needed to know.
 
That time was like the first time. Well, to tell the truth, it WAS the first time for me, this time around. But Al never forgot what we had, what we were, and he knew me, intimately, as no one ever had. With his next plunge, he hit my prostate and I saw stars. A few more thrusts and he hit it again. I groaned deliriously and through half-lidded eyes, I saw him smile. "Oh yeah, baby . . . that's it right there, isn't it?" he crooned as he pushed forward and mashed it once more.
 
I could barely breathe, let alone answer him – I managed a nod and a grunt, but he seemed to get the message. He unwrapped my left leg from around his waist, and threw it up on his shoulder, changing my position, making it easier for him to piston downward. I felt the head of his cock brush past that magic spot and cried out in ecstasy. He gave me a devilish smirk as he went to town, slamming in and out of me like a pile driver, unerringly hitting that special mark every time.
 
Ohgodohgodohgod!! It's never been like this. It's never been so good. Each stroke brought new contact. Each stroke sent shivers down my spine. Each stroke wrenched another half gurgle from my throat. His hand snaked in and wrapped itself around my cock, jacking me to the rhythm he had established – caressing me both inside and out.
 
I couldn't hold out much longer, didn't think my body could sustain such a level of pleasure. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. Well, kiss is too tame of a word. His mouth devoured mine, even as he continued to pummel me into the mattress. My own hips were jerking back and forth, torn between the dual sensations of his hand and his cock. And as my body arched in orgasm, an orgasm so powerful that it exceeded the boundaries of human endurance, I felt complete and whole . . . like a part of me that I didn't even know was missing had finally been found.
 
I was now truly home.
 

 
I found myself laying against Al's side, his right arm wrapped around me, cuddling me close; in his left hand, he held a cigar that he had magically pulled from his suit jacket pocket. Now that my memories were returning, I remembered he usually smoked one after we made love. He let out a huge sigh, and a puff of fragrant smoke.
 
Giving him a shit-eatin' grin, I deftly reached over and snatched the cigar from his grasp. I took a puff of my own, and sighed a heartfelt, "Wow!" before I fell into a coughing fit.
 
He laughed, "You can say that again."
 
I glanced up into that handsome face, and did indeed say it again, "WOW!" I took another puff of his cigar. "That was amazing."
 
"Yeah . . . we'll have to try it again with some silk scarves," he mused.
 
The coughing fit I went into that time had nothing to do with cigar smoke. "What . . . whatever gave you that idea?"
 
He smirked. "Let's just say a little bird told me."
 
"I'm going to kill her!" I muttered. I couldn't BELIEVE Donna had told him about that.
 
"'Course we could go with some handcuffs, if you prefer. A blindfold, maybe, and some strawberry massage oil . . .?" he teased.
 
I know he was only joking, but I found myself getting turned on just thinking about it. "As long as it's with you, Al," I answered, honestly. I took a final puff on the cigar and handed it back to him. "Damn, I know sex was always good with you, but was it ever THIS good?"
 
"You . . . you know?" Al stammered. "You mean you remember . . . this?"
 
"Uh-huh. You seem surprised."
 
He shrugged, and puffed on his stogie. "Guess I am, considering it technically never happened before."
 
"What do you mean, Al? Of COURSE this happened before."
 
"Not for you, Sam. Just for me. That timeline never existed."
 
I nodded, "Al – yes it did. Somehow, someway, it did, because I remember it all. I can . . . I see us in the church, waiting for Donna to arrive, but she never did. And the reception at Spago's . . . ."
 
"Scalio's," he corrected me.
 
"Right. And I got sick on Mudslides . . . ."
 
"Well, you certainly drank enough of them," he grimaced.
 
"You kissed me in the limo . . . ."
 
"Ahh, if I recall . . . YOU kissed ME," he amended.
 
"And you told me you loved me," I finished.
 
"Still do," he said with a smile, and a twinkle in his eye.
 
I blushed, both at his words, and my next memory. "You made love to me that night . . . and . . . and then we went to Bermuda . . . ."
 
"Try Jamaica."
 
I gave him one of my dimpled smiles. "Right. Jamaica. See, I knew I remembered."
 
"And what about the next day?" he asked cautiously.
 
Smile vanished. Those were a batch of memories I didn't care if they ever returned, but they had. And now I had to deal with them. "I remember," I began. "She . . . she came to see me and . . . ." I stopped, the fresh batch of memories and emotions completely overwhelming me.
 
God, the awful things she had said, the things she accused me and Al of doing. She was so mean and spiteful. Could I have ever loved that woman? Was she really the same woman I had ended up marrying? With dawning insight of just HOW much my leaping had affected other lives, I muttered, "My God, I changed everything, didn't I?"
 
"It wasn't your fault, Sam. You did what you thought was right. And face facts, Donna had a much better life this time around."
 
"Did she, Al?" I asked, uncertainly.
 
"Of course she did. She learned to love and trust, instead of carrying around all that bitterness and hatred for her father. She went further with her career than she did the first time around, because she was stronger and had more confidence in herself. And don't forget . . . you two were happily married for nearly a decade."
 
"But I still ended up hurting her, abusing that trust. And what about what I did to you? All the pain I put you through all these years. Dammit, Al," I wailed. "I fucked up all our lives."
 
"Hey, kid, give yerself a break. It wasn't so bad. It's not like I was alone or anything." He turned to put out the cigar in the ashtray on the nightstand, and said, quietly, "I'm sorry I wasn't faithful to you, Sammy . . . ."
 
I cut him off. "That's okay, Al. I understand. I wasn't exactly faithful to you, either."
 
He continued, nervously, "Yeah, well . . . I don't know what I would have done without Tina. She was . . . Tina was my guardian angel, Sam."
 
"Yeah, Donna's too, apparently," I bit off with a touch of sarcasm.
 
"You can't blame her, Sam." He wrapped his arms around me and held me close to his chest. "She waited for you, and was faithful to you for all those years. She only turned to Tina after you left her that second time, when she didn't think you would ever be back. She just needed some love and attention."
 
"I don't blame her, Al. But . . . what do I do now? I love you both." Leaning over to claim his lips, I whispered, "I love you more."
 
"Oh, Sammy . . ." he sighed, before surrendering to my kiss. I pushed him flat onto his back and crawled on top of him, my lips never leaving his. I clutched his body to mine, noticing with some amusement his returning hard-on. Good – then mine wouldn't be lonely.
 
We were going at it pretty hot and heavy when there was a soft knock at the door.
 
"Are you boys decent in there?" Tina asked. Well, all the naughty bits were covered, so we answered in the affirmative. We heard a key in the lock, then Donna walked in, dressed haphazardly in her flamenco dress; Tina was close behind her, wrapped in a silk kimono. Both wore expressions of guilt and consternation, a direct contrast to the way Al and I felt.
 
Donna was the first to find her voice in the uneasiness that had settled upon the stateroom. Gazing down at the two of us, she stated, "Sam, honey, I think we have to talk."
 
AL:
 
Dee was kind enough to hand me Sam's bathrobe, and make herself scarce in the head while I got out of the bed. Sam reached out and pulled me down for one last kiss. "You gonna be okay, kid?" I asked him softly, as I pulled out of our clinch.
 
"Yeah . . ." he said with a smile. "You?"
 
"Always." I quickly kissed him on the forehead before I gathered up Tina, and left him and his wife alone.
 
The door was barely closed behind us when I started jumping around the room for joy. Sam was mine again! And he remembered! Oh, happy day! The karma had finally swung to my favor. I knew if I stuck around on this God-forsaken rock long enough, it would be Calavicci's turn! I was just about to ask Tina if there was any champagne left for a toast when I realized she wasn't in the room with me anymore. "Tina, honey? Where are you?"
 
From the bathroom I heard a faint, "In here."
 
I wandered over to the door and found her standing in front of the vanity mirror, brushing her golden hair. She didn't turn to acknowledge me, engrossed in her task. "Tina? You okay?" I asked, concerned.
 
Her jaw jutted out a bit as she murmured, "Fine. Everything's fine."
 
Without being invited, I joined her in the bathroom, and looked at her reflection in the mirror – it was the face of someone putting on a brave front. "Everything is NOT fine. I can tell." Slipping an arm around her waist, I pleaded, "Talk to me, Tina . . . ."
 
She heaved a deep, resigned sigh, and stammered, "I guess I just . . . a part of me kinda hoped that maybe it wouldn't work. I mean . . . I guess I never thought about what would happen beyond tonight, once you two were really back together. Never thought about what would happen to us." Turning to me, she said, apologetically, "Don't get me wrong – I'm so happy for you and Sam. But . . . but I'm going to miss you, Tiger."
 
Her quiet words tore through my heart. "Oh, Babydoll . . . someday you're gonna make some lucky guy very, very happy."
 
Those big blue eyes bore into me, "I . . . I wish it could've been you," and I felt like a total heel.
 
"Aww, sweetie, I was never good enough for you. You deserve someone who will never put you second, someone who will cherish you above all others." I ran a comforting hand down her arm, "And you DID make me happy . . . happier than you could ever know. I wouldn't have made it all these years without you. I love you, Tina."
 
Tears started rolling down her pretty face. "Dammit, Al! Now I'm crying! What the hell did you have to say that for?"
 
I pulled her in for a big bear hug. "Because I mean it. You've always been there for me, watching over me like an angel. How could I not fall in love with you?" I carefully brushed a tear from her cheek. "Do you want me to take it back?"
 
She smiled at me, showing off her dimples. "No. I'm just glad you didn't say something that stupid earlier . . . I may have taken you up on your marriage proposal."
 
"I'm sorry I made you cry, honey. Here . . . let me." I grabbed some toilet tissue and began to dry her tears, giving her a baby kiss when I was done.
 
Her soft hand reached over to caress my cheek as she sighed, "You know, this is probably our last night together. I really don't want to spend it blubbering in a cramped little bathroom, do you?"
 
"Not really," I answered honestly, then added, with a goofy leer, "what did you have in mind?"
 
She smiled at my antics, but replied, sincerely, "Just . . . hold me tonight, Al?"
 
Gathering her in my arms, I chuckled, "Your wish is my command, Babydoll."
 
TINA:
 
Then marry me! my betraying brain screamed out. Oh God, was I really just going to let him go like this? Dammit, I spent the last six years of my life with this man, and I wasn't going to put up a fight? Hell, I had helped kick him out the door. What the fuck was I thinking? What masochist had taken over my body? Maybe it wasn't too late to take him up on that proposal . . . .
 
I would even be willing to share him, if that's what it took to keep him.
 
But I wouldn't be able to keep him. He belonged to Sam. He would ALWAYS belong to Sam. It was nice while it lasted. We'd always have Paris. 'Tis better to have loved and lost. All that bullshit.
 
Part of me hated Dr. Beckett at that moment, and cursed the day he leaped home. I immediately reprimanded myself, and apologized for having those thoughts. I didn't hate Sam. I envied Sam. He had Al . . . and I didn't.
 
No, that wasn't true. I had Al here, in my arms, for one last night. I knew how to get to Al by using my feminine charms. Give me 15 minutes, and I could make him even forget Sam's name. But as he stood there hugging me, I knew that's all I ever wanted – just to stand there, holding Al, until the end of time.
 
All too soon, I found myself being led over to the bed. My lover pulled me down with him, and wrapped me protectively in his arms, just as I asked him to. I had my head on his chest, cushioned by the softness of Sam's terrycloth robe.
 
"Tina, honey, I have to thank you. For what you did for me tonight. I can never thank you enough."
 
"Anything for you, Al." As I listened to his breathing even out, and fall into sleep, I whispered, "I love you, too, Tiger."

 
Saturday, June 2, 2001:
 
"She's not coming."
 
My best man heaved a deep sigh, even as he put his hand on my shoulder. "Of COURSE she's coming. She's probably just stuck in traffic."
 
"What the hell am I doing anyway?"
 
"You're getting married . . . again," he chuckled.
 
"This is a big mistake. She's too young for me."
 
"Oh, will you stop!"
 
"I'm too old to be getting married again," I murmured.
 
"You're only as old as you feel," he insisted.
 
"She makes me feel like a teenager," I sighed, reverently.
 
He gave my shoulder a squeeze. "See, there you go."
 
"But are we doing the right thing? I said I'd never do this again."
 
I stood still while he adjusted my tie. "Well, when the right person comes along, you have no choice. Your heart overrides your brain every time."
 
Taking his lead, I smoothed down my jacket. "Have you got the ring?"
 
"You've asked me that a dozen times. Yes, I have the ring. Stop worrying."
 
"I can't help it. Where is she?"
 
"Look, just take a deep breath. Count to ten. And I'm sure she'll be here, okay?"
 
I took his advice, inhaling as much as I could, and exhaling to the count of ten. By the time I had hit '7', I heard the first notes of "The Wedding March" begin. I looked up the aisle, and there she was: my radiant bride to be, and walking alongside, her military escort. I felt a lump form in my throat, and I feared I'd start to cry.
 
She was a vision of vestal beauty in her strapless ivory silk and organza Vera Wang gown, her golden hair pulled up inside a jeweled tiara crown. The train of her bell-skirt trailed behind her, as she seemed to float on air. Her pretty face was semi-hidden, covered with a gauzy veil, which fell down to her waist in the back, and in her hands she carried a simple bouquet of white roses and baby's breath. I must confess that I barely noticed the man by her side until they were standing beside me at the altar.
 
Clearing his throat, he turned to me, and placed her hand in mine. "She's all yours now, Admiral," he reminded me. "Treat her well . . . or I'll know the reason why."
 
"Yes sir," I answered, my knees shaking just thinking of getting on this man's bad side.
 
He lifted her veil, and I gazed upon her in all her loveliness; my breath caught and I thought my heart would stop beating. How the hell did I get this lucky? Her companion spoke softly to her, causing her to smile, adding to her sunny glow. "What does that mean?" she tittered.
 
This time I heard him as he spoke, "Live long. Love much. Laugh a lot." He leaned forward and kissed her chastely on the lips, the tears forming in his eyes. "I love ya', Babydoll."
 
Her smile got even brighter, and she whispered, "I love ya' too, Tiger."
 
He stepped forward and cuffed me on the shoulder. "You two be happy. And that's an order, Beckett."
 
"Yes, sir," I answered again, and saluted him good-naturedly. I turned to my bride, and gave her a heart-filled smile, which she returned; out of the corner of my eye I saw the Admiral take his place next to my brother. With that, Tina and I both faced the priest, and the ceremony began.
 
AL:
 
Damn car! $150,000 Bentley, and it gets a flat tire, just like a junkyard Yugo. What the hell? Tina was a basket case – good thing Commander Peterson was a whiz with a tire-iron. He soon had us back on our way, just a half-hour behind schedule.
 
When we pulled up in front of the church, Tina was out of the car before it had come to a full stop. Her attendants descended on her like locusts – Katie in the lead – smoothing out her dress and fixing her train; I brought up the rear, carrying the bouquet she had forgotten in the back seat in her haste. We both had only a couple of moments to take one last deep breath before the music started up. She glanced over at me, a blissful smile gracing her face, and I knew what pure happiness looked like. On the right note, we started our journey down the aisle.
 
It was odd, being on this end of everything – usually I was standing by the priest, right where Tom Beckett was standing with his handsome brother by his side. But when Tina had asked me to give her away, how could I refuse?
 
As we approached the altar, Sam flashed me a smile I felt all the way down to my toes. Tom, of course, couldn't take his eyes off his lovely bride-to-be. In fact, every eye in the place, except Sam's, was on Tina. The gown was my gift to her, and it was the perfect outfit for this perfect day.
 
We passed by friends and family, each captivated by the beauty on my arm. As we got closer to the front, I saw Mrs. O'Farrell and Mrs. Beckett sitting side by side, the water works already going full blast. Thelma was a bit concerned when Tom introduced her to Tina for the first time – the Beckett matriarch had misgivings about Tina's age, her wardrobe, and her ability to be a good mom to Tom's now teen-aged sons. But just one weekend together convinced Thelma that Tina would be a good wife, a great mom, and a wonderful daughter-in-law, and she gave Tom her approval.
 
After charming the bride with an Old Italian blessing, I handed the lovely lady over to her betrothed and took my spot next to Sam. Tom's boys, Matt and Andy, were standing near their dad, taking their ushering responsibilities quite seriously . . . much more seriously than Sam was taking his best-man duty, anyway. (And, don't even get me started on the bachelor party he threw last weekend – I was STILL havin' flashbacks from it.) Tom had talked to both of his sons extensively before he popped the question to Tina, but he needn't have bothered. The boys adored Tina, and were excited to be getting her as a step-mom. They were also happy that their dad wouldn't be alone anymore. I felt the same way about Tina, glad that she had finally found that special someone I promised her on that cruise ship last year.
 
Wow! Was it only a year ago? It's been a busy twelve months, that's for sure. First thing the four of us did when we got back was alter all the living arrangements. Sam, of course, moved in with me, and Tina moved in with Dee to try to take some of the edge off the 'transition'. Those first few weeks were more of a temporary situation, to make sure that this was the solution we all wanted.
 
Sam took to our new relationship like a duck to water, slipping easily into all the old patterns and routines from our previous life together. However, on the other side of the coin, he did spend a great amount of time dealing with some confusion, a sense of loss, and A LOT of guilt. I'd be lying if I said it went smoothly. A couple of nights, he spent with Donna. I never asked what went on, but I had my suspicions – probably the same thing that happened between me and Tina on those same nights.
 
I discovered I was having a hard time giving the girl up. I really had grown to love her, and our separation hurt me much worse than any of my divorces. But slowly, over the next couple of months, the love Sam and I had for each other won out, just as Tina predicted it would. The timelines truly meant nothing – our love could survive anything.
 
Dear Tina. I could never pay her back for the sacrifice she made that night on the ship. I must have been a complete idiot, turning a woman like that away, but that's what you do for true love. And as Donna started spending more time in therapy with Bena, Tina found a confidant in Tom. This time around, he was there for her, to comfort her, and give her a shoulder to cry on. Though I had eventually learned that nothing ever happened between them before, there was no denying the attraction they shared now. It didn't take long before we were all playing nosy matchmakers.
 
Speaking of Dee and Bena, I found them sitting together in the second row of pews, behind the sobbing moms. They had gotten close during the Beckett divorce . . . VERY close; I could even see them covertly holding hands. They had found solace in each other's arms as they both grieved over the loss of Tina's company, and I can honestly say they were good for each other. Who knew if it would last, but it was what they both needed right now, and we were all happy for them.
 
I turned my attention back to the ceremony, just as the priest was pronouncing the blissful couple man and wife, and watched as Tom bent forward to kiss his blushing bride. Sam took that moment to lean over and give me a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering in my ear, "Don't you just love happy endings?"
 
Squeezing his hand in mine, I looked over at the new family, bride and groom, wrapped in a group hug with Tom's boys, and smiled. "I certainly do, kid. I certainly do."
 
"Love's more comfortable the second time you fall,
Like a friendly home the second time you call,
Who can say what brought us to this miracle we've found?
There are those who'll bet love comes but once, and yet,
I'm oh, so glad we met . . . the second time around." 1

 
THE END