Eternity seemed to be the best way to describe the next two weeks. Every day seemed much longer and more drawn out than the day before. No memories returned to Al, and Tina was beginning to doubt that he would ever recover and go back to his former self -- the man she loved and married only two and a half months ago.

When Tina returned from work one day, she was intent on having a little talk with her husband. She tossed her purse and car keys onto the counter and marched up to the small man, who was busy with his studies. Tina stood over him, staring at him as a displeased high school substitute teacher does when she catches the class clown making mischief.

"Ya know, it's been two weeks since Sam's been by," she said casually, masking her feelings of disapproval. "Have you heard from him lately, Al?"

"Maybe he went on vacation," Al said, not bothering to look up at her.

"That's what I thought at first," Tina sighed. "I ran into Donna in the library just now, and she said they haven't gone anywhere; she said Sam won't come by because you told him to go away and leave you alone."

"Yeah, I did," Al said in monotone.

"Why? He's your best friend. What would possess you to do something like that?" Tina's anger was starting to show.

"I've got my reasons."

"Does it have anything to do with this?" she reached over and produced the hand-link which had been sitting behind Al's cigar box for the past couple of weeks, and held it in front of the amnestic. "Does it?" she demanded. Al ignored her as he scraped his pink Hi-lighter across the pages of his computer text book. Determined to get an answer from the stubborn man, she again demanded, "Well does it!"

"Maybe," he snapped. "That guy came in here and started talking about how he could travel in time like that Marty kid in that movie . . . . You know, the one we saw at Sam's when we went over on New Year's Eve. Everybody knows you can't travel in time."

"Sam did travel around in time," Tina insisted. "He leaped from year to year, and you were his observer."

"You disappoint me, Tina. I thought you were smarter than that . . . buying into that sci-fi junk. Can't you see he made the whole stupid thing up?"

"It's the truth, Al."

"And how would you know?"

"Because, damn it, I used to work on Project Quantum Leap! You were on your way there when Sam walked into that Accelerator and leaped."

"You don't work on any project, Tina; you're a nurse," Al objected.

"I started out as a nurse, and after about eleven years I thought I wanted a better paying, more exciting job. I went back to school and studied physics. Then, after I graduated, I met you and you told me about a job opening at Project Quantum Leap. After six years, I left when I read in the paper about a shortage of nurses at the hospital I felt I could do a lot more good if I went back to nursing."

"Well you get an A for creativity." Al said in a sarcastic tone.

"Is it proof you want!" Tina snapped sharply. "There's a whole box of proof over there." She gestured to the open carton that spent the last fourteen days in the corner of the kitchen. "If you would just read some of those notebooks, you'd see that Sam and I are telling you the truth." She stepped around the table, pulled a spiral notebook out of the box, and laid it on top of Al's workbook. "I'm sure you'll find this very interesting."

"What's this?" Al asked as he flipped through the pages.

"It's one of your logs from the project. I think it was from when Sam first leaped." She turned in the direction of the den and added, "If you have trouble understanding anything, I'm sure Sam would be happy to explain it to you when he comes on Saturday."

"What!" Al's hand slammed down onto the notebook's outer cover. "He's coming here!"

"Yes, he is. Sam and Donna are my friends, too, and I would like to see them every once in a while."

"I don't want Sam coming over here; do you hear me, Tina!"

"Now you listen to me, Al Calavicci, you can stay mad at Sam if you want; but as far as I'm concerned, he and Donna are always welcome here! There's nothing more to say. They're coming over for lunch, and you're just gonna have to deal with it!" She abruptly stalked out of the room to leave Al alone with his thoughts.

A Saturday afternoon drive usually was exactly what Sam needed to forget his troubles, but this drive proved less than relaxing.

"I'm telling you, Donna, this is a bad idea. Al doesn't wanna' talk to me anymore." Sam argued as he stepped on the brake and brought the car to a halt in front of the Calavicci house.

"Sam, it's been two weeks since Al told you off; I'm sure he's cooled off by now," Donna countered calmly.

"I'm not so sure about that. Every time I call him on the phone, it's always the same thing . . . . 'I have nothing to say to you, Nozzle', 'Bug off', 'I thought I toldjoo' to leave me alone'. And then there's always a loud click. I don't think I should be here."

"It's the easiest thing in the world to hang up the phone on someone you don't want to talk to, but it's not so easy to dismiss someone who is standing right in front of you," Donna countered as she crawled out of the passenger side and swung the door shut. "I don't think it'll be so bad."

"I still think this is an awful idea," Sam said stubbornly. "You shoulda' come without me."

"And leave you alone in the house to watch videos and stuff yourself with popcorn? Come on." She grabbed Sam by the wrist and towed him to the front door.

The doorbell summoned Tina, who was taking some plates out of the cupboard. "They're here, Al. Check and see if the sandwiches are done, okay?" she requested before she hurried to the front door to let the Becketts in. "Hi, come on in," she greeted.

"Hi, Tina," Donna smiled, "How's Al doing?"

"The same," Tina replied, her inflections shaded with a 'wake up and smell the coffee' tone. "He still can't remember anything." She paused for a moment and then looked up at Sam. "I'm sorry about the way Al's been treating you Sam," she apologized.

"It's all right; it's just his amnesia and frustration talking," Sam admitted.

"Well, I think lunch is almost ready." She led her guests into the kitchen, where Al was setting the table.

"Hi, Al," Sam approached the shorter man. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Al muttered his reply back to Sam.

"Look, Al, I can understand your not believing me about the Project," Sam spoke firmly, determined to get some answers from his friend. "What I don't understand is why you're so mad at me!"

"Because I usually get mad at people who lie to me; I'm funny that way. It's bad enough you waltzed in here expecting me to believe that stupid time travel story. Then you started dishing out all that B.S. about having amnesia. Who's to say

You weren't just goofing with me from the start; I don't really know you're my best friend. I know Tina's my wife because you showed me my wedding ring when I was still in the hospital. You can't prove our friendship, your amnesia, or anything else for that matter."

"Al, if you would just read that notebook . . . ." Tina began.

"What notebook?" Sam stepped into the conversation.

"His log from 1995 . . . after your first leap."

"Perfect. Where is it?"

"On top of the phone book," Tina answered.

"Okay, Al, here's your proof," Sam said opening the book. "Let me read you some of this. 'August 12, 1995 He knew he wasn't supposed to leap, but did he listen to Gooshie and Ziggy? No. Sam is somewhere in the year 1956 and has landed at Edwards Air Force Base. I finally made contact with him earlier this evening. He didn't remember anything except his office telephone number; he didn't even remember me. Hopefully, Gooshie will have the Retrieval Program working and we can get Sam back, but I doubt it. The only one who can bring Sam home is Sam . . . and he's stuck in '56 with a Swiss-cheese memory . . . .' Need I go on?" Sam handed Al the notebook and indicated the scribbly handwriting that covered the lined pages. "Look, it's in your handwriting."

"Oh my G-- It's true," Al whispered studying the passage, guilt forcing his head into his chest. "Then there really is a Quantum Leap time travel project, and . . . and you really did have amnesia. I don't know what to say, Sam. I'm sorry. I shoulda listened to you." Al continued to eye the paper that was undoubtedly covered with words that appeared in his own handwriting. "It really must be true."

"It's okay, Buddy," Sam accepted the admiral's apology. "I probably would have done the same thing in your situation. In fact, I remember I thought you were making everything up, too."

The warm, sentimental moment was marred when Tina announced that the Rubin sandwiches were ready. Everyone sat down to lunch and began to share the gift of gab -- except for Al, who seemed lost in thought. Although his anger for Sam was no more, he found himself dealing with a seemingly age-old problem, his amnesia and whether or not he would ever recover. It didn't take long for the couples to devour their meal and deposit their plates into the sink.

"Who wants to play Trivial Pursuit?" Tina asked after scraping all the sandwich fallout into the disposal.

"Sounds good to me," Donna said enthusiastically.

"I could go for a game," Sam added.

"Excuse me but, what is Trivial Pursuit?" Al wanted to know.

"It's a board game where you have to answer trivia questions in six different categories, and the first person to get one question from each category wins," Sam replied.

"Oh, sounds like fun."

"Donna, wouldjoo' do me a favor and get it for me, please?" Tina requested loading the plates into the dishwasher. "It's on the book shelf above the dictionary."

With a nod, Donna disappeared into the den and re-entered a second or two later and set up the game on the kitchen table.

"Are we gonna play as teams or individuals?" Sam asked.

"Let's play individually," Donna suggested. "Now, Al, you're supposed to fill your little disk with one wedge in each color," she explained, indicating the circular playing token and six pie-shaped pieces that sat in front of the admiral. "The first one who does this and makes it back to the middle is the winner. The way you fill the disk is to answer certain questions correctly."

"Sounds easy enough."

An hour seemed to fly right passed the players who were totally immersed in the exhilarating game. For the first time in months, Al felt like a whole man and not an unfortunate victim of memory loss. For the time being, it was as if his amnesia never existed.

"1, 2, 3, 4," Donna counted and landed her playing piece on an orange square. "Sports and Leisure."

"Okay, Donna, Sports and Leisure . . . . 'What is a fruit machine?'," Al read from one of the cards with a 'piece of cake' look in his eyes.

"Oh geez, I don't think I know that one," Donna sighed.

"It's a slot machine."

"Your turn, Al."

Al passed the cards to Tina and rolled the dye. "1, 2, 3 . . . . Entertainment."

"Maybe you should go the other way, Al," Tina was hesitant to read the question.

"But then I won't get my little pink thingie," Al countered.

"I don't think you'll be able to get this one, Al . . . Because of your amnesia."

"What does that have to do with anything!" Al snapped, feeling insulted by the assumption. "I don't wanna be some special case. If I get it wrong, I get it wrong."

"'Who directed Raiders of the Lost Ark?'," she read.

"Pass," Al said, shaking his head.

"See? The movie was made in the early '80's, and that's during a time period you still don't remember."

Seeing the hurt look on Al's face, Sam growled, "We don't need any comments from the peanut gallery, Tina."

Without a single word, Tina rolled the dye and landed her man on a green square. "It's Science and Nature," she pointed out.

"Okay," Sam drew a card and read the words next to the bubble labeled SN. "It says 'How often are brain cells replaced?'."

"Never," Tina answered and inserted a green wedge into her disk.

"Just like my memory," Al murmured in dismay.

"No, Al, don't talk like that. You'll get it back someday," Sam tried to comfort the unhappy man.

"You're wasting your breath, Sam, Al's never gonna get his memory back!" Tina burst out. "All you're doing is building his hopes up on something that will never happen!"

"Tina, be quiet!" Donna hissed.

"We're all gonna have to accept it. Al isn't gonna go back to the way he was before the accident!" Tina continued to rage. "He is never ever gonna remember the last twenty-four years. He'll have to live with it, and so will we! Can't you get it through your thick skull, Sam; Al's memory is gone!"

Heavy blankets of betrayal and defeat hovered and wrapped themselves around the devastated admiral like a smothering shroud. Every heart beat was an atomic explosion that grew more and more powerful with every palpitation. Al seemed to be suffocating in the feeling that he had been, once again, abandoned by someone who was supposed to have loved him. The woman who promised to take him in sickness and in health was now admitting defeat, while assuring Al's. The entire room vanished and was replaced with darkness and emptiness; and before another word was spoken, Al leaped from his seat and barreled up the stairs.

"Tina how could you," Donna demanded. "There was absolutely no reason for that. That was the last thing Al needed to hear."

"You want me to lie and pretend the amnesia will just go away? I told you; Al won't get any better."

"Maybe he won't," Sam rose and stared directly down at Tina. "Maybe you're right . . . . He did have a chance, but now he doesn't have a prayer. What's the sense of trying if there's nobody in your corner to back you up and encourage you? I know this is hard on you, but it's a lot harder on Al. And he needs you to be there for him. My God, Tina, he's been through enough without you throwing a tantrum and saying right in front of him that he'll never realize the one goal he's had since he came to in the hospital. The day Al was released, Streebing said not to count on Al's recovering his memory -- well, I wouldn't count on it either -- not after what you just said."

The angry physicist spun and sped up the stairs after his buddy; and when he stepped into the master bedroom, all signs of life drained from his face at the sight he encountered. Sam's stomach lurched, and tornados of dizziness filled his head when he saw the smaller man sprawled out, face-down on the bed overtaken with hiccupping cries and convulsive movements. Although muffled, each wail was a stone that caused Sam's stomach to stir like a stormy sea. In all the years he had known Al, Sam had never once seen the smaller man cry so hard.

"Al?" Sam whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed and rested his warm, concerned hand on the other man's back.

Al did what he could to pull himself together and regain his composure. He turned over on his back and looked up at Sam through two slits that hid his swollen, tear-filled eyes. "Maybe she's right . . . I'm gonna have to go through the rest of my life like this."

"No, Al," Sam spoke softly. "Just because Tina gave up doesn't mean you should."

"I'm not a whole man anymore, Sam. There's a big hole in my life; and no matter how hard I try, I can't fill it in again. For the last two months, I've been busting my brains out trying to get my memory back."

"Well, maybe you're trying too hard. As I told you before, overcoming a memory loss takes a long time . . . . I mean, look at me. It took me about six years to regain my memory. You need to have more patience."

"I . . . I don't think I . . . I don't think I can live like this much longer. I hate it. I don't really think I can sit around and wait for the magical Memory Fairy to appear and give it all back when I'm sleeping. It's not gonna happen for me, Sam."

"Not if you quit, Al. Your memory is somewhere in there," Sam assured tapping Al's forehead. "Trust me; I know it'll come back to you again, Buddy. You've already had flashbacks . . . the ladder, the music box, and the hand-link."

"No, Sam," Al disagreed in a voice tinted with a 'thanks for trying' inflection. "I won't get any better. I have amnesia, and I'm gonna have to get used to it 'cause that's the way it's gonna be."

"I can't accept that."

"You're gonna have to, Sam. Instead of trying to change me back, why don'tcha just accept me the way I am now. If you're really my friend, you would."

"I can't believe you're just giving up like this!" Sam spoke sharply. "There are some amnesia victims who never get their memories back, but you're one of the lucky ones, Al; you have a chance to get well, and you're willing to toss it all out the window. The Albert Calavicci I know wouldn't do that! For God's sake, Al, don't give up on yourself. Memory is a very complicated thing; it can come back when you're least expecting it . . . and it might come back in pieces or all at once. Maybe you won't get anything back, but I think there's a good chance you'll regain some, if not all of it. But it sure as hell won't come back if you bury your head in the sand and hide."

"It's hopeless, Sam!" Al countered as if to say 'Are you terminally stupid or what?'. "It's over; I'm never gonna remember those twenty-four years again!" he cried out, tears pouring from his swollen eyes.

"Yes you will! I'm gonna fix everything, and you'll getcher' memory back!" Sam stormed.

"What . . . How?" Al's curious inquiry was unheard by the physicist who had just darted out of the bedroom.

Tina and Donna had just packed the Trivial Pursuit game when they heard Sam tear down the stairs like a runaway freight train and burst into the room in search of his car keys.

"Sam, what's the matter!" Donna cried out in alarm.

"Here they are," Sam mumbled to himself, snatching the silver ring that held four keys and a shiny-blue S. "If you need me, I'll be at the Project."

"The Project! Why are you going to the Project?" Donna demanded.

"It's Al . . . . He's in pretty bad shape; he's given up on himself and is convinced he'll never get his memory back." Sam answered.

"But what does that have to do with the Project?"

"I'm gonna' leap into Al on November 26, 2001, and prevent the accident from ever happening. No accident -- no amnesia."

"We've been through this before, Sam," Donna interrupted, "and you know how I feel about your leaping again!"

"So you want me to leave him like this; is that whatchoo want! No, Donna . . . I can't do that . . . . I can't stand seeing him like this anymore."

"Do you actually expect me to say 'go ahead' and possibly lose you a third time? Absolutely not!"

"My mind's made up," Sam said stubbornly. "I'm going."

"No, you're not!" Donna yelled, grabbing Sam by the arms and trying feverishly to hold him back.

"Let me go!" Sam roared. Bound and determined to liberate his closest friend from the amnesia and depression that was holding him captive, Sam jammed his elbow into Donna's ribs. The dark haired woman yelped and clutched the bruised area, allowing Sam to escape her grasp and peel out the front door. The two women scrambled to the front doorstep, only to see him turn around a corner and disappear.

"We've gotta get to the Project and stop Sam before it's too late!" Donna cried out in panic. "Where are your keys, Tina?"

"In my purse on the counter," Tina called back, dashing into the kitchen.

"What's going on down here?" Al appeared at the top of the stairs and descended the carpeted structure. "You'd think there was a war."

"There's no time to talk," was all Tina said before she whizzed out the door.

"I don't get it . . . what's happening here!" the man demanded. "Where's Sam?"

Before she realized Al had no real memory of the Project, Donna blurted, "He's leaping, Al. Sam's leaping!"

All of a sudden, an all too familiar cloud of terror hovered over Al and showered him with a very eerie feeling. The interior of the house and all the sounds within its walls faded into an empty void, where voices could be heard. They were as vivid as bursts of bright color appearing in total darkness, and they echoed as if broadcasting via a loud speaker.

"'He's leaping! Ziggy said no, but Sam's leaping!'" one voice shouted.

The other bodiless entity had Al's voice. "'He can't leap; we're not ready!'"

"No, Sammy!" Al screamed, breaking free from the void and racing out the front door.

The race to the Project seemed to take hours on end. Red traffic lights greeted the three worried parties on just about every street corner; and, with every stop, their hearts pounded harder and harder. Tension and fear filled their bodies, and the three felt as though their heads would burst at any second.

Tina pulled the car into the Project's parking lot and she and her company tumbled out of the small transport. They darted right past the Security gate, claiming there was an emergency. While Tina and Donna split up to search Sam's office and on-site quarters, Al found himself drawn to another destination. He ran down several flights of stairs as though in a life-and-death situation; and after scampering down the tenth flight, he burst into the corridor.

The admiral came to a full stop when he saw Sam, clad in a white protective suit, wrestling with a short man in a lab coat. The smaller man was trying to keep the physicist from entering the room hidden by the door marked ACCELERATOR.

""I'm gonna leap, Gooshie . . . and don't try to stop me!" Sam roared as he grabbed the technician and threw him across the corridor.

Gooshie tumbled to the floor and landed flat on his back. The impact had knocked the wind out of him. Realizing that Gooshie would not be able to stop Sam from entering the Accelerator, Al lunged forward and pounced on the taller man as a bear attacks its prey.

"Let me up!" Sam ordered.

"No!" Al pleaded. "Don't do this, Sam!"

"Al, I'm doing it for you!"

"You can't leap; you just can't!" Al begged.

"I can and I will!" Sam insisted.

"No you can't; I won't let you!"

"Won't let me getcher memory back?"

"No, Sammy, I'd rather live with amnesia for the rest of my life than risk losing you again!"

"What?" Sam ceased his struggle. "What did you just say, Al?"

""Don'tcha remember the first time you leaped? It took us six years to getchoo back again," Al stared down at his friend, tears clinging to his chin. "Do you really wanna put me through all that again?"

"Al!" Sam worked himself into a sitting position, his hazel eyes wide and his face colored with happiness. "Al, listen to yourself . . . . You're remembering! You just remembered how you felt the first time I leaped!"

"I . . . I really remembered something?" Al whispered to himself, expecting it to be too good to be true. As he helped his buddy to his feet, he continued, "I can't believe it . . . . Are you sure it was a real memory this time?"

"Was it another flashback?" At Al's nod, Sam prompted, "Was it like the others?"

"Not really . . . It stuck with me from the time Donna said you were leaping, and I can't get it out of my head. The other stuff was just weird feelings, but this -- It was more than just a feeling. Oh, Sam, it was so real. It felt like an actual memory this time. Just like the memories I have from before '77."

"I think you're recovering, Pal." Sam happily diagnosed. "It might not all come back; but if you let nature take its course, and if the memory is important enough, it'll come back to you."

Unable to think of anything more to say to the recovering amnestic, Sam threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. With tears of joy flowing down his cheeks, Al returned the embrace, squeezing with all his strength. Neither man knew whether or not Al would make a full recovery, but they were certain that that first memory was one they would carry with them for the rest of their lives.

14