Chapter 3
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Christine woke up another two times that night, and just as the last night, the nightmares seemed to get worse as the night went on. Sam spent two and half hours up on the third nightmare rocking the little girl. He tried what had worked for Al before, and although it seemed to calm the girl a bit, she was still terrified.

he thought as he stared at Christine, who was finally asleep. He laid her back down in her bed and checked his watch. 5:30 a.m. and he still had paperwork that _needed_ to be done. For the next hour he worked, then woke Christine up at 7 and battled with her over what she wanted to wear to school. He made himself some _black_ coffee as she munched happily on her cereal. Although Christine had been up half the night, she didn’t look tired at all. He just choked it up to little kid energy and ushered her to the car.

"Sam, I need my lunchbox," she protested before she got into the car, so it was back into the house to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ten minutes later, they make it back to the car, and barely got her to school on time. Sam was already ten minutes late for work. Though he didn’t care much at this point. Christine was still having nightmares, she was still going to disappear tomorrow, and he had no idea how to stop it. Plus, the fatigue of the last two nights was beginning to catch up with him and he didn’t know if he could make it through another day. He was used to at least an hour of sleep but he hadn’t even gotten that.

"You look like shit, Scott," was the greeting he got from the same woman he’d met when he first leapt in. He had learned her name was Linda Hartman, and obviously she and Scott were friends, if they were anything else, she didn’t give any clues.

"Well hello to you, too," he replied. She smiled.

"You’re late, but luckily I don’t think anyone noticed. It’s slow this morning. I’ll be glad to have my day off tomorrow."

Sam perked up from the chart he was looking at when she said she’d be off tomorrow. he thought.

"Linda, can you do a favor for me?" he asked in his best ‘please’ voice.

She sighed. "I know that look, Scott. It’s my day off. What, the babysitter can’t come tomorrow?"

Scott had already pulled this once or twice he guessed, but Linda seemed concerned with Scott’s well-being so he pushed further on.

"Linda, I haven’t slept in over 48 hours-"

"God, Scott, no wonder you look so bad. You’re going to make yourself sick you know," she scolded gently.

"Christine doesn’t have school tomorrow and I was wondering if you could watch her at least for awhile." he added silently to himself.

She looked at him, seeming to take in the circles under his eyes. Finally she gave in. "Okay, I’ll be by around 7:30, okay?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least Christine wouldn’t go to school tomorrow. He’d deal with the rest later. "Thank you."

She nodded. "Anytime for you, Scott. Remember that. We’ve been friends too long." She looked at him. "You really look beat. If you want to catch a nap, I’ll cover for you an hour or so."

"You would?" he asked, so tired that her offer sounded very tempting.

"Like I said, we have a slow day. I can fend off Patti for awhile."

"Thanks, again," he said as he handed the chart in his hands off to her.

"What’s tomorrow? A holiday?" she murmured to herself as she watched him walk down the hall.

******************

The day was slow for awhile and although Sam had gotten an hour of sleep, it didn’t make much difference. He just worked through the day hoping that during it he would get some clue as to how he was to stop the person who was going to take Christine.

Al showed up at about 4 to tell him that Ziggy had found another article on Christine’s disappearance. This one talked about how someone spotted the girl at the supermarket with a woman that matched the description of Cara Stevens, Christine’s mother. Now Sam knew who he had to look for. Although Scott had hid most everything that reminded him of his wife, a wedding picture still remained on the fireplace. Sam had looked at it, realizing that somewhere down the line the couple must have been very happy. It made him wonder what went wrong.

When he got home from work, he picked up the picture again, staring at the pretty black-haired woman in the photo. he thought as he placed the picture back down. Christine was back to begging him for just another half-hour so she could watch the end of her tape. Sam, too tired to argue, let her, grateful for the peace the TV gave him. Even after another half-hour spent thinking his mind was still drawing a blank. Scott didn’t even know, wouldn’t even begin to explain why even if he wasn’t suffering from a fevered delusion. He thought again of the photo.

"Picture perfect," he muttered as he walked back toward TV room. There seemed no other way to describe the photo. It was like the one that came with a picture frame.

Christine was falling asleep in front of the TV, so all Sam did was take her upstairs and laid her in her bed. He had made her get into her pajamas earlier so he just tucked her in, and, almost as a reaction, pushed a brown curl off her forehead. She was still so little. Four years old. He suddenly found himself wondering if he _really_ did have children. If he even had a wife. Did he? He didn’t know. Being with Christine made him wonder more than he ever did. But, just as always, his brain couldn’t supply him with any answers. He had been tempted to ask Al, but knew even if he wanted, Al couldn’t tell him. And he probably wouldn’t remember from leap to leap. As he watched Christine’s sleeping form for a few minutes, he found himself longing for a family that went beyond the one he knew in Elk Ridge.

He walked into Scott’s room, stopping in front of the bureau and looked at a box that was placed on top of it. It was pushed off to the side, like it was to be forgotten. He turned it an inch to find the name "Cara" scrawled carelessly across one side of it. Tempted, he opened it, finding photographs mostly, but there were also a few other items mixed in as well. And at the bottom was a ring box. Opening it he found a gold wedding band inside. Scott’s wedding ring.

Looking at the photographs all he could see was happiness, just as he had seen in the wedding photo. There seemed to be no warning signs here. But something had happened.

He placed the items back into their box, placing the ring on top. He closed the lid, and returned it to its original place. It was only a matter of time before Christine awoke again, screaming, so he just went downstairs, almost jumping when Al greeted him.

"Don’t do that," he said as he sat down on the couch.

"Sam, we have to talk." His tone sounded a bit urgent.

Sam shielded his tired eyes from the light. "About what?" he mumbled.

"The fact that, according to Ziggy, Scott - you - is going to die late tomorrow afternoon."

********************

Sam practically jumped up at his sentence.

"What??"

Al punched the handlink, reading out the information as it came. "You changed history, Sam. Christine doesn’t disappear. All Ziggy can tell you is that tomorrow afternoon at 4:34 p.m. you’re pronounced dead, from a gunshot wound to the chest. Inflicted by a Cara Stevens."

"What??" Sam said again, trying to take in the new information. "I get shot? How? Why?"

"Ziggy doesn’t know. All she can say is that getting Linda to watch Christine prevents her disappearance. Looks like it doesn’t stop Cara’s appearance in town, though. She’s gotta be mad, Sam."

"About what? From all the pictures I can find, Scott and Cara had a storybook marriage. They were happy, had a family. Al, I’m having a hard time following this."

Al shrugged. "No picture can tell the whole story, Sam. No every marriage works out. Something _had_ to happen."

Sam sighed. "Does it really?"

Neither of them had an answer to the question.

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Chapter Four