Lifting the Veil of Silence
by Noel Goddard
Original Pub. Date: October 1996
Summary: Sam leaps into a dangerous situation, both physically and mentally. This story is somewhat of an AU, as it doesn't completely fit the timeline of the series canon. Some of the violence in this story maybe disturbing to sensitive readers. Consider yourself warned.


The leap effect always left me a little disoriented. It usually took several minutes for me to get my bearings in my new location. This time, I landed in what seemed to be a dark alley surrounded by several shadowy figures. I didn't see the baseball bat coming until it hit my gut with a sickening thud. As I doubled over from the pain, another blow, from a bottle I think, hit me in the back of the head. I collapsed to the ground, unable to bear the pain that wracked both my head and my gut. As I laid on the ground shaking from the waves of nausea, I heard one of my attackers yell, "That's what we do to friggin' homos!" The world spun out of control and into the darkness.


From somewhere in the distance, I heard a faraway but annoying ringing. Slowly the fog that surrounded my brain was clearing, thanks in part to that damned ringing. My already aching head was beginning to throb now. Finally, the ringing stopped, and I heard a voice speaking slowly in hushed tones. I realized that it must have been a phone making the annoying noise. I tried to hear what the voice was saying, but before I could make anything out, I heard the click of the phone being placed back on its cradle. I decided the only way that I was going to get any answers was to try to open my eyes.

My eyelids seemed to weigh at least ten pounds, each. After what seemed to be an eternity, they finally moved. As I cracked my eyelids to the waiting world, the sunlight streaming through the windows seared my eyes. The throbbing in my skull intensified again, but I wasn't going to give up. I had to get my eyes open to see where and when I was. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked around and saw that I was in a hospital room. Standing by the window was a handsome young man. He must have been the one on the phone. He was staring out into the sunlight as if he was searching for an answer.

Well, I needed some answers too, I decided. I tried to clear my throat to speak. I managed to croak out, "Could you get me a glass of water, please?"

The man at the window spun around, "Paul? You're awake! Oh thank God! I was so afraid that I was going to lose you!" In a flash, the man was across the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. He gently took my hand in his and held onto to it as if it was his lifeline.

I examined this man sitting on the bed with me. His face was just as handsome as the rest of his body, but it was his eyes that held your attention. They were the deepest shade of blue that I had ever seen, and right now they were brimming over with tears. Unable to take my eyes from his, I repeated my request, "Could I maybe get that glass of water?"

The other man seemed to shake himself back into reality, "Sure, Paul. Anything that you want." He rose from the bed and headed over to the table where the pitcher of water sat. As he filled the plastic hospital cup with water, he spoke slowly. "You know, the police are going to want to talk to you as soon as you're up to it."

I shuddered as the scenes from my leap-in replayed themselves in my photographic mind. For once, I wished that I didn't have perfect recall. The other man obviously knew the person that I leaped into well enough to notice my discomfort with the subject. He reached for my shoulder as he gave me the glass of water. "Look Paul, I've always respected your request to keep our relationship secret except from our closest friends. I know that you're afraid for both your job and your relationship with your family, but you can't hide this one. You have to testify to get these punks off the street before they can hurt anyone else."

The realization that swept over me caused the nausea to return. The cup of water dropped from my hand onto the floor, spilling the water across the other man's shoes. I looked and saw the simple gold band on the other man's left hand. The shout of my attacker rang in my head, "Friggin' homo!" The darkness returned, and I welcomed it.


The next time I woke up, my head throbbed a little bit less. I slowly opened my eyes and found the hospital room empty. As I struggled to sit up in the bed, the events of my earlier round of consciousness came back full force. I apparently had leaped into the middle of a gay bashing, and the man who had been here earlier was my partner. To top it all off, apparently, I was still pretty closeted. I didn't know why, but even thinking about the situation was making me nauseous. I wished Al were here. I just wanted to know what I had to do and then get out of here ASAP.

Almost as if he could hear my request, the imaging chamber door slid open at the foot of my bed. Al stepped through the doorway wearing a very uncharacteristic outfit. He was in a pair of Navy issue gray sweats. The look that crossed his face as he saw me in the hospital bed was one of horror. He spoke as if in a state of shock, "God, Sam. I didn't get here sooner because the kid in the waiting room showed up in pretty bad shape. It took us a while to get him stabilized. I thought that you must have missed the worst of the beating, but..." Al's voice trailed off.

I must look pretty bad if Al was shaken. I realized that I hadn't even seen a mirror yet to see what I looked like. For now though, I obviously needed to reassure Al that I was going to be all right...if I could get out of here. "Al, I need to know where I am. What do I have to do to get out of here?"

Al still looked shell-shocked, "Oh Sam. I am so sorry that I wasn't there for you. How could I have left you alone to go through that?"

I mustered all the strength I could and yelled, "Al, snap out of it! I need to know what I'm here to do so that I can get out of here!"

I guess the desperation must have come through in my voice because my yelling only made Al's look of concern worse. "Sam, why are you so desperate to get out of here? Shouldn't you stay here and get some rest?"

I sighed as the tears began to roll down my face, "Al, there's something about this place. Something about this situation. I can't put my finger on it, but I do know that I don't want to be here. Al, I was a victim of a gay-bashing." The tears were now streaming down my face, and my whole body shook as I whispered the next words, "Al, I'm gay."

Al ran his hand over his face and then moved to massage the back of his neck. "Sam, you leaped into Paul Wallace. He's 26 years old and is originally from Atlanta, GA. He currently lives in Denver, CO. That's where you are now, Sam. This is Denver General Hospital. Paul works as a high school history teacher at East High School, and your, uh, Paul's, partner is Jeff Samuels. Sam, Paul is the one who's gay. Paul is the one who took the brunt of the beating. You have to stay separate on this one, Sam. You need to be coherent if you want to get out of here, Sam."

Now Al's voice had taken on a command tone that he learned during his days as a naval officer. He usually used it with me when he wanted me to focus on the job at hand instead of getting caught up emotionally in the whole situation. I looked up at Al and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Al, what do I have to do here?"

Al cleared his throat and kneaded his neck even more fiercely. "Ziggy says that there's a 99% chance that you're here to file a police report on the beating. Sam, you have to file a complaint and finger the nozzles who did this."

The horror that swept across my face was mirrored by the pain I saw in Al's face. "Al, I can't report this. Paul's not out to his family or his co-workers. I could lose everything!"

Al moved closer to the bed and looked like he wanted to reach out to me, "Sam, remember Paul could lose some things, not you. Ziggy says that if he doesn't report the attack, the same guys continue to attack gay men. Before they are caught, they kill five men, Sam. You have to stop this."

I rocked back and forth on the bed repeating the words over and over, "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this."


When Jeff came back to the room, he found me sitting on the bed still rocking back and forth. I stopped speaking when I heard the door open, but I couldn't seem to stop the rocking. Al still stood silently at the end of the bed. He looked determined to never leave my side again.

Jeff approached the bed slowly, and put his arm around my shoulders and slowly stilled my rocking. He sat down on the edge of the bed and just held me. It was very comforting and soothing. This Paul was obviously a lucky guy to have someone who cared so much about him. I had a brief flash of memory where I remembered that someone had once loved me like that. As quickly as the memory appeared, it vanished again leaving behind a feeling of incompleteness. I looked up at Al to see if he was willing to give me any clues about the memory. Instead, Al began to beat the handlink impatiently. The Imaging Chamber door finally opened, and Al left through the door without looking at me. I sighed and snuggled more deeply into Jeff's chest, wishing that I could just stay here and not have to face this leap.

At that moment, the door opened again, and an older man gnawing on an apple entered. He was stocky and average height with graying hair and a bushy mustache. He looked at us embracing one another on the bed and seemed to appraise and accept the situation in a split second. He spoke calmly, "I'm Detective Miller from the Denver PD Hate Crimes Unit. So, Mr. Wallace, are you ready to make a statement?"

Jeff spoke first. "He's just regained consciousness. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

The detective shook his head and took another bite of his apple. As he chewed, he spoke, "Nope. The owner of the bar that you had left just prior to the attack heard the commotion and came out to check things out. He saw you lying on the ground and managed to nab one of the guys running from the scene. Now, he didn't actually see anything, so we need you to finger the guy as one of your attackers, or we'll have to let him go. We can only hold him another 12 hours." The detective stopped and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped the bits of apple from his mustache before continuing. "So, we need you to come down to the station and make an ID. I talked to your doctor, and she has approved a transfer by ambulance to the station to make the ID. You'd do the line-up thing with your doctor and partner," he nodded to Jeff," present. Then we'd transfer you back to the hospital to continue your recovery. What do you say?"

I cleared my throat and spoke, surprised by how hoarse my voice still sounded, "I'll need to think about it Detective. Can I, uh, we get back to you?"

The detective sighed and answered, "Fine, but make it quick. We only have 12 hours and that scum will be back on the streets." He turned, took another big bite from the apple, and left the room.

I turned slightly, so that I could see the edge of Jeff's face. I spoke softly, "Does my family know about the attack?"

Jeff nodded slowly, "You were hurt so badly when they brought you in that I was ...really, really afraid for you. I had to call them. They should be landing at the airport in about an hour. They took the first flight that they could get out of Atlanta."

I shook my head in response and spoke with a fairly significant tremor in my voice, "Jeff, I know that I should go finger this guy, but I don't think I can. Not with my family coming. I don't think I can do this." I began rocking again ever so slightly. Then a thought occurred to me, "What did you tell them?"

Jeff sighed, "Don't worry. I didn't tell them anything important." I could hear the thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. My closet must be a source of great strain on our relationship. He continued, "I told them that you were mugged going to your car. Don't worry, they still think I'm just a very considerate roommate."

I nodded, "I suppose I could still go ID the guy, but what would I tell them if the newspapers get a hold of this?" Tears began to roll down my face. There was something very familiar and painful about this whole situation.

Jeff unwittingly spoke the words that would send me hurtling over the edge, "It's going to be all right, honey. I promise that I'll stand by you, no matter what happens."

With Jeff's words of reassurance, the memories came flooding back, more quickly than I could process them. Now I knew why this whole situation seemed so unbearable. I had already lived it.

I was gay.


Jeff could tell that I needed time to think about everything that was happening. He squeezed me tight and then left me to my thoughts.

My thoughts immediately turned from the situation at hand to my own memories from a time long since past. They were still jumbled, but I tried to make sense of them. They seemed to start one year when I was away at college.


I had gone away to MIT since Tom had successfully talked me out of a basketball scholarship at Indiana. Classes were wonderful. It was the first time that I could ever remember actually being accepted for my intelligence. Always before, I was the teacher's pet, the goody-goody, and all the other names that kids call one another. There I was accepted for who I was, and was encouraged to live up to my full potential by both my professors and fellow students.

Then my memories shifted from school in general to him. We had met in a writing class that I was taking for fun, a little break from my science course load. I struggled to remember his name, but nothing came. Anyway, we left class together and went for coffee. Over the next several months, we moved from being acquaintances, to being best friends and finally to being lovers. It was the first time I was ever with another man, and it just seemed so right. I hadn't dated many girls when I was in high school. My folks always said I was just too young; Tom said I was just too shy; Katie said I was just too dorky. Even when I did date girls, I could never really seem to enjoy kissing them. That just gained me a reputation with the girls for being a perfect gentleman. Little did they know.

The memories of my time with... ­damn, I hated my Swiss-cheesed memory! Well, the memories were hazy, but wonderful. I remembered feeling safe and loved. I also remembered feeling, well, horny. I wanted to kiss him; I enjoyed kissing him, among other things.

Somewhere down the road in our relationship, I now remembered declaring my undying love. I remembered wanting him to meet my folks. He stalled, stammered, said that wasn't a good idea. He was worried that they wouldn't accept what we had together. I remember scolding him. "My parents have always loved me for who I am. Why should now be any different?"

So, we drove to Indiana in May. Since we were both taking summer classes, it would have to be a short trip. The drive was wonderful. We shared all the sights together. I never realized before how important it was to share those things with someone.

Eventually we arrived in Elk Ridge. Mom and Dad hugged me ecstatically on the front porch. My visits home had been few and far between because my course load was so demanding. We hadn't seen each other since Christmas. Poor last, that was his name! It had finally returned; his name was Aaron. Poor Aaron was left standing by the car looking utterly lost. After a few minutes, I noticed that Aaron looked like he was going to faint from discomfort. So, what did I do? I hauled him up onto the porch, and introduced him, "Mom, Dad, I want you to meet someone very special. This is Aaron, my boyfriend."

From there, the memories disintegrated into just a jumble of images­mom crying, dad yelling about "no son of his", Katie staring at me like I was a Martian.

The next clear memory I have is of Aaron leaving at Thanksgiving to go home and see his family. We stood outside in the parking lot, discreetly holding hands.

"Are you sure that you're going to be okay here alone?" he asked.

I nodded slowly and spoke the words I'd already said a hundred times to myself, "Look, we both know that I can't go home. They won't even speak to me on the phone. Tom's off in Vietnam somewhere, and we certainly don't want to make a similar scene with your folks. It'll just be easier if I stay here. I'll fix myself a small dinner and watch a ton of football. Now go on, or you'll miss your plane."

Aaron smiled lovingly at me, reached up and stroked my hair. After a furtive glance around, he leaned over and kissed me goodbye.

The memories faded to the following spring and a time that I couldn't believe that I had Swiss-cheesed. I remembered a time when I thought I would never be able to forget all that had happened, much less move on from it.

The phone rang impossibly early one spring morning in '71. Aaron, being the more coherent one in the morning, answered the phone with a drowsy "'Ello?" After the other person on the line responded, Aaron bolted upright in bed and then handed the phone to me, looking positively spooked.

"Hello?" I answered quizzically.

Tom's baritone voice came through the phone, "Is that you little brother?"

I grinned from ear to ear. I hadn't heard from Tom since before I was effectively disowned. I had been terrified that he was stonewalling me as well. "Tom! It is so good to hear from you!"

Tom didn't respond in kind. He asked gruffly, "The person who answered, is that, you know, him?"

I sighed. This wasn't going to be a good brother-to-brother chat. I could tell. I went on the defensive immediately, "Yes, Tom. That was Aaron, my lover. If you've called to tell me what a pervert I am, I would really rather go back to sleep."

Tom sighed on the other end of the line, "No, Sam. I didn't call to fight. I'm back in the States. I shipped in two days ago. I was going to call you and really talk, but then, um, things got sorta messed up here. I'm at home in Elk Ridge. Uh, Sam, there's no good way to tell you this." He paused and took a deep breath, while my stomach rose to my throat, "Dad had a bad heart attack yesterday. He didn't want me to call you, but Mom and I decided that we should. The doctors say it doesn't look good. He's in the hospital in ICU. I think you'd better come home, Sam."

I hung up the phone in shock. My father was a hard-working man with three children, but he was still relatively young. This couldn't be happening. I packed quickly, and Aaron drove me to the airport. After a quick kiss in the car, I was on my way.

The flight to Indianapolis was long and bumpy. There was some bad weather over Indiana. We finally landed, and most all of us passengers were very grateful to be on solid ground again. Apparently, there had been some tornadoes in the area, leading the bumpy ride into Indianapolis. Everything, including ground transportation and the bus to Elk Ridge, was delayed indefinitely while they waited for the storm to blow over. I waited and worried for two long hours in the Indianapolis airport before they finally decided it was safe enough to get on the road.

When we finally pulled into the bus station in Elk Ridge, I saw Tom standing outside the station. He shoulders were drooped, and it looked like he had been standing out in the rain waiting for me. I got off the bus and approached him cautiously, unsure of how he would actually react to me in person. I was stunned with what happened next. Tom just collapsed onto me and started to cry. I knew what had happened without Tom saying a word. Dad had died. The last words spoken between us were in anger. I would never have a chance to apologize, a chance to make him understand that I never meant to hurt him, or a chance to tell him again that I loved him.


The tears came and spilled down my face with the memories. I buried my face into the pillow on the hospital bed and just cried. My bruised and battered ribs hurt with each sob and breath. Finally, tears stopped, and I just lay there.

From behind me, Al cleared his throat and spoke, "Hey kid, are you okay?"

I slowly rolled over to face him and realized that what I wanted most of all right now was for Al to touch me. I wanted Al to hug me and kiss me and make everything all better. That wasn't going to happen though, was it? I spoke slowly to make sure that I wouldn't chicken out, "Al, I remembered something important today. I know why this leap feels so familiar, so scary." I stopped to screw what will I had left, "Al, I'm gay."

Al gave me the oddest look. It was a look filled with both pain and hope at the same time. Now it was Al's turn to speak slowly. "What did you remember, Sam?"

I had the distinct impression that my announcement had not been news to Al. I told him what I had remembered about Aaron, about coming out to my family, and about my father's death. As I told the story, I began to feel a little better. It seemed to help to share it with Al. When I looked into Al's eyes after I was done recapping the story, I saw a few tears hanging at the corners of his eyes.

He brought the back of his hand to his eyes and wiped the tears away with one broad stroke. He said, "You know, kid, that was the one blessing about your Swiss-cheesed memory. I was really hoping you would never have to remember that."

I was stunned. "You mean, you know all of this and you never told me!"

Al studied the handlink as he spoke, "I thought it would be easier for you," he paused, "...for both of us ...if you didn't remember those things."

I may have a Swiss-cheesed memory, but I knew when Al wasn't giving me the whole truth. I spoke matter-of-factly, "Al, there's more isn't there?"

Al nodded slowly.

"Al, I have to know it all. Tell me." I gave him best puppy-dog look.

I could see Al turn it over in his mind and then surrender, "Sam, think back to when we first met, really met. I was beating the shit out of a soda machine at Project Starbright. Can you remember anything else?"

I closed my eyes as I thought back and tried to open my mind to the memories.


I was working day and night on Project Starbright. Of course, I always worked day and night. That was how I had managed to get put in charge of a government project at the tender age of 35. I had no social life to interfere with my work­no spouse, no kids.

I struggled with my memory. Ah, Aaron left me about a year after my Dad died. Our relationship was never the same after that happened. Eventually my guilt drove us apart. Other than a few unimportant people along the way, there had been no one else. My relationship with my family had moved into a truce over the years. We gathered every year for Christmas and Thanksgiving, but we never spoke of the year when I made such a horrible mess of everything. Tom and Katie had seemed to grow fairly comfortable with me again, occasionally asking if I was seeing anyone, but Mom just never mentioned it again. One year, I decided to broach the subject with her because my guilt demanded that I know what she was thinking. When I tentatively asked her if she would ever be able to accept me for who I was, she smiled patiently before she answered. She reached over and patted my knee as she spoke, "Sam, I will always love you. As for your choice of a life partner, I will cross that bridge when we come to it."

Well, as yet, I had not come to that bridge. I'm sure that my work schedule had a lot to do with my inability to maintain a relationship for more than a few weeks, but that's what was required if I was ever going to get my own pet project funded. Anyway, I was working at Project Starbright one night about midnight, and I decided that I really needed a soda if I was going to keep working. So, I wandered down to the break room. What I found was my security chief, who was also the highest-ranking naval officer on the project, beating the poor soda machine to death.

"So, what did that machine ever do to you?" I asked flippantly.

He whirled to face and answered with a slight slur, "It ate my damn quarters and didn't give me anything."

I couldn't help but smile. The whole situation was ludicrous. "Do you really think beating it is going to help?"

He snorted, "Naw, but it sure feels good. Name's Calavicci."

I nodded, "Yeah, I know. We've never officially met, but I know who you are. You do good work." I couldn't help but think to myself, Yeah, I know who you are because you turn me on every time I see you.

He waited and then finally asked with a hint of a smile, "Well, who are you?"

I grinned back, "Name's Beckett."

He snapped to attention and saluted, somewhat sloppily, "Director, sir! I didn't recognize you. Please forgive me for abusing government property."

I couldn't tell if he was serious or not until I finally caught a glimpse of a wicked glint in his eyes. I threw my head back and laughed.

When I looked back in his direction, I saw something different in his eyes. It looked like lust, but it couldn't be. Or so I thought.

Before I could think anymore, he pounced, pinned me to a table, and began to kiss me­hard.

When he finally came up for air, I gasped, "What are you doing?"

He answered with a question of his own. "Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head silently.

Still seeing doubt in my eyes, he stopped what he was doing and spoke again in a slurred voice, "Look, I know from your security dossier that you, well, are into guys. And I've caught you looking my way more than once when you thought I wasn't looking." He shrugged his shoulders and continued, "I just thought I'd give you what you wanted."

I pushed him off of me, now filled with anger, "Is that what this is? A pity fuck? Why don't you just go on home and finish drinking yourself to death!" I turned and began to march from the room. I had to get out before the tears started. I felt his hand on my arm, and I tried to pull away to keep walking. The Admiral held on with both hands and whirled me to face him again.

Seeing the tears in my eyes, the Admiral seemed to soften, "Aw, kid. I didn't mean it that way." Al then let me go and stalked across the room before continuing, "You know, I thought getting drunk might help. I thought I could tie one on, go find the prettiest woman in town, screw her brains out, and everything would be fine." He sat down on the table where we had kissed and held his head in hands, "But I just wound up back here. Damn it!"

I was beginning to get the picture and spoke accusingly, "You didn't need me to introduce myself tonight, did you? All those times you caught me looking at you, you were looking at me. Weren't you?"

Al sprung from the table and lunged at me, "So what if I was? That doesn't make me one of them. It doesn't!"

I grabbed him as he lunged and held him tight. We stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity and then I made the move this time. I leaned down and kissed Al hard. As I probed his mouth with my tongue, I felt his cock growing hard against mine, even through the fabric of both of our pants.

Al pulled back and groaned, "Oh god, kid. I've never been, well you know... but you make me so goddamn horny!"

I covered his mouth with another kiss to silence him. Once I needed to breathe again, I stopped the passionate kiss and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "I promise I won't do anything that you don't want me to do. Are you sure this is want you want?"

Al's eyes twinkled with that same mischievous glint, and he nodded as I leaned him back onto the table.

Slowly, I began kiss around his neck as Al groaned audibly above me. His hands ran up and down my back and through my hair. I started to work my way down over his firm chest, unbuttoning his rumpled shirt one button at a time with my teeth.

With his hands in my hair, Al pulled my head back up to his mouth and kissed me hard. His hands roamed down my chest and finally rested on the straining bulge in my jeans. I moaned into Al's neck as he stroked me through the rough fabric. I turned my head to nibble on his ear and whispered, "Let me give this one to you, Al."

Al protested, "But Sam..."

I silenced him with a kiss, before speaking again, "Al, we'll have plenty of time for you to do me later. I want this time, your first time, to be solely for you."

As Al looked at me, I could see the look of pure passion being replaced by one of caring, "Aw, kid."

With my own passion mounting, I stripped his shirt from his shoulders, exposing his chest with its wonderfully large nipples. I closed in on the right one and began to nibble slowly and carefully. In between nibbles, I slowly circled the nipple with my tongue, savoring Al's own unique taste. Once the right one was completely erect, I moved to the left one, nibbling and licking, as Al writhed beneath me.

With both nipples erect and hard, I began my migration downwards, kissing as I went. I finally reached the waistband of Al's pants. I didn't even need to touch the large bulge to tell that Al was completely turned on. His cock was visibly straining against the fabric of his slacks. Again using my teeth, I slowly and carefully unbuttoned Al's slacks. Al's hips bucked upward off the table, as my breath blew across the sensitive area. Once he settled back on the table, I carefully and very slowly unzipped the pants with my teeth, and Al's engorged cock sprung free. Of course, no underwear. Why was I not surprised?

I was careful not to touch Al yet. I moved back up the length of his body until I was kissing his mouth again. When we came up for air, I asked him, "So, Al, what is it that you want? Do you want my hand?" I carefully reached down and just ran one finger along the length of his penis. He shuddered violently with the touch.

I continued, "Do you want my mouth?" I knelt down quickly and planted a gentle kiss on the head of Al's throbbing cock. Al bucked so hard that I nearly lost my balance.

Finally in my most seductive voice, "Or do you just want to fuck my brains out?"

Al's eyes opened wide. I could tell that part of him wanted to do just that, but he wasn't ready yet. That would come later. He wheezed out his answer, "Your mouth."

I smiled my most wicked smile, and eased down onto my knees, facing the most wonderfully large cock that I had ever seen. I couldn't help but wish that would be ready to fuck me ...soon.

I reached up and pulled Al's pants down around his ankles. I also took a moment to release my own aching organ from the too-tight blue jeans.

I reached up, grabbed Al's butt with my left hand, and began to savor the treat before me. I licked slowly up and down the length of Al's shaft. At the same time, I was busily using my right hand to satisfy my own urges.

As soon as Al was writhing and moaning underneath my subtle touches, I decided it was time to teach Al what a blowjob was really all about. I opened my mouth as wide as possible and swallowed the whole length of Al's penis.

Al responded vocally, "Oh God, kid!"

I slowly withdrew my mouth from around his incredibly swollen organ. I went back to my more subtle ministries of kissing and licking around the perfectly shaped head of Al's cock. Soon, it was clear that Al was about to climax. He locked his hands into my hair, helping to bury my face into his cock. Again, I took his whole length into my mouth, and that was it. Al shot off in my mouth, and that was enough to send me over the edge into ecstasy.

Once we both recovered enough to move, I slid up the length of his body to nuzzle against his neck, while he stroked my hair. After a few moments of silence, I spoke first, "Well, Admiral, what do you think?"

Al grabbed my shoulders roughly and rolled me over with my back now on the table. He stared at me long and hard before he spoke in his most seductive Calavicci voice, "I think... it's my turn to ravish you."


By this time, I was blushing violently at the memory. We had made love right there in the break room again.... twice. We had been a couple ever since. The memories of the years after that were still in bits and pieces. I remembered skiing in Aspen for our first Christmas together. I remembered celebrating wildly the day that the government approved Project Quantum Leap. I remembered bringing him home for Christmas in 1993. This time around things went considerably better. As she had promised, Mom dealt with Al as a person. As it turned out, Mom actually liked Al and took him under her wing before the week was out. Katie and Tom's kids, all my nieces and nephews, loved playing with Uncle Al. Flashes of our wedding in the summer of '94 came to mind. Then I flashed to Al standing at the control panel as I started the Accelerator. The last words that I heard before I leaped were "I love you, Sammy."

I opened my eyes and looked at the hologram standing beside my bed.

Al looked at me, searching my soul to see how much I remembered.

I spoke with tears choking my voice, "Oh Al. I love you too."

Al nodded as he fought back the tears. "Sammy, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. When you didn't remember me, didn't remember us, I decided that it would probably be best for time to take its own course. If he," Al pointed upward," wanted you to remember, then you would remember." Al grinned wryly, "I guess he really wanted you to remember now."

A few more tears of my own rolled down my cheeks, "God, Al, now that I remember, I want to come home so badly. I want to hold you and tell you how much I love you. How much I appreciate everything you've done for me over the years."

Al cleared his throat and answered, "Well, good. 'Cause Ziggy is predicting that if you finger the nozzle who did this, then there's a 90% chance that you'll leap home."

My mouth fell open in surprise.

Al's eyes twinkled, "That was pretty much my response when she told me. Whadaya say? You wanna give it a try?"

Maybe this was my chance to give Paul and Jeff a real chance and to give Paul a chance to make peace with his family before it was too late. I smiled at Al, nodded, and answered, "Let's do it."

Al put his hand as close to my shoulder as he could without passing through it as I called the detective. As I hung up the phone, Al looked at me with the same look that he had when I stepped into the Accelerator and repeated the same words, "I love you, Sammy."



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