Date: Sun, 12 Sep 93 12:10:08 EDT
From: Jason_Dzembo@MTS.RPI.EDU
Message-Id: <3802777@MTS.RPI.EDU>
Subject: The Last Minute, Part 3

        It had been nearly a year since Sam had last seen his own
face in a mirror, and it took him a moment to recognize the man
standing outside the door to VanOrder's office.  "What-?"
        "Dr. Beckett, I presume?"  With a smile, Marcus VanOrder
extended his hand.  Bewildered, Sam accepted it.  An electrical
sensation washed over him and he watched in horror as his aura
appeared to wash away from the other man, like a time-lapse
photograph of snow melting.  Startled, both men pulled away.  The
auras snapped back into place, camouflaging the leapers once again.
        "That was an eerie experience." VanOrder breathed.
        Sam nodded agreement.  "What are you doing here, Mr.
VanOrder?"
        "He insisted on coming to the party." Al replied dryly,
moving into the doorway behind VanOrder.  "As far as anyone here's
concerned, you are still Marcus VanOrder, and he is...with us. 
Hopefully no one will ask too many in-depth questions about him." 
Al glanced up and down the hall and said, "We'd better move this
inside."
        Taking the hint, Sam stepped out of the doorway.  VanOrder
entered, crossing automatically to his desk.  He paused and glanced
back at Sam.  "Go ahead," Sam said, "it's a closed door meeting." 
VanOrder nodded and took his seat behind the desk. 
        Al stood aside, allowing Gooshie to enter.  Sam shook the
man's hand eagerly.  "Good to see you again, Gooshie." Sam grinned.
        "Good to see you, Dr. Beckett." Gooshie paused and said,
"Well, you know what I mean."  Sam nodded and smiled.  He turned to
Al, paused in the doorway.  "What's wrong?" Sam asked.
        Al stepped into the room and, through the vacant doorway,
a woman entered.  Her expression was hopeful, strained and curious. 
She was an attractive brunette with blue eyes and wore a
conservative business dress.  She looked hauntingly familiar. 
Something about one of his earliest leaps.  The Watergate.  He
frowned and shook his head slightly, wondering why looking at
this woman was causing his skin to tingle, as though his blood had
turned to ice.
        "You remember...Doctor Eleesi?" Al said, hesitantly.  It
sounded more like a question, understandable, given Sam's
magnafluxed memory.
        Sam frowned and extended a hand.  "I'm afraid I don't.  I
hope you don't take it personally."  He smiled apologetically.
        The woman's face fell and she seemed on the verge of tears. 
Sam felt an urge to put his arms around her and comfort her. 
Stroke her hair and whisper her name into her hair.
        "Donna."  The word escaped his mouth even as it returned to
his memory. 
        For a moment the woman's eyes lit up.  "Sam..." she
breathed.  Al made a slight movement, and Donna fell silent.
        Sam frowned.  "Your name is Donna." he said, tentatively. 
"Isn't it?"  Donna bit her lower lip and nodded.  "I'm sorry I
don't remember more about you.  Maybe I'll remember more the
longer I'm around you." 
        "I hope so." Donna's voice was hoarse.
        "Are you alright?" Sam asked, her behavior getting the best
of his curiosity.
        Donna nodded abruptly, straightening her back with
determination.  "Yes.  Thank you, Dr. Beckett, I'm fine."
        Sam doubted the sincerity of her words, but admired her
effort to put whatever was bothering her aside so they could get
down to business.  He held her eyes for a moment and then
moved past her to close the door.  "What's our plan of action?" Sam
asked. 
        Al slid the handlink out of his tuxedo pocket, taking
advantage of this brief pause to pass a fleeting glance between Sam
and Donna.  Poking at it, he said, "We still haven't determined who
your attacker is.  However, I had Ziggy run some numbers, and, if
the motive is your proposed transfer of funds to the Project,
there's a fifty-five percent chance Elizabeth is the killer."
        VanOrder stood up abruptly, slapping a hand against the
desk.  All eyes turned to him, startled.  The man stood, trembling
for a moment, unbalanced by his sudden movement and trembling with
something very much like rage.  "That's preposterous!  Your
computer must have messed up!"
        Gooshie coughed apologetically.  "With all due respect,
sir, I don't see how that's possible.  Ziggy doesn't make
mistakes."
        "Well, it's no more likely that my daughter would try to
kill me.  She has no motive."
        "The loss of a multi-billion dollar fortune would be motive
enough, I would think." Al remarked.
        "Perhaps."  VanOrder sat down slowly and lowered his tone
of voice.  "However, I am not leaving my daughter completely
penniless when I die.  I haven't publicized this fact, for reasons
that may become clear in a moment, but before my donation to your
Project, I am also setting aside a healthy stipend for Elizabeth. 
I've discussed it with her already, and we settled on an acceptable
amount.  It was higher than I'd hoped, but it was worth the extra
money to get her to agree to the conditions."
        "Conditions?" Sam asked.
        "Yes." VanOrder nodded emphatically.  "When you're the
daughter of a rich man, there are men who would do anything to get
their hands on your father's money.  I don't want to cast doubts
on his character, but I have difficulty believing that Sidney's
attraction to my daughter isn't motivated, at least in part, by the
prospect of marrying a wealthy heiress."
        "Sidney?" Sam asked, "You mean they're dating?"
        "Casually," VanOrder admitted, "but I suspect she cares
about him more than she lets on.  For my sake, perhaps.  It could
be considered scandalous by some people for a wealthy heiress to
marry a security guard."
        "Is Sidney aware of the stipend you'll be setting aside for
your Elizabeth?" Sam asked.
        VanOrder smiled.  "Well, she gave me her word that she
wouldn't tell him.  However, if my guess is correct about her
feelings for him, I suspect he'll be aware of the fact before I
die."  He glanced at Al and smirked.  "She'd better tell him soon,
then, eh, Admiral?"
        Sam shot Al an inquisitive look.  "Mr. VanOrder doesn't
seriously believe his life is in danger." Al explained.
        "Au contraire, Admiral.  I've accepted the possibility.  I
just think that you're looking in the wrong place for suspects. 
There are countless organizations and individuals who may have been
counting on bequests from me, and who will be understandably
disturbed by my change of heart.  I'd recommend running them
through your computer and seeing what it says."
        Al consulted the handlink casually and murmured,
"Thirty-two percent."  Meeting VanOrder's gaze, he smiled silently. 
VanOrder nodded, gracefully granting Al the point.
        "Our best bet," Sam said, "would be for me to stay as
unobtrusive as possible.  Unfortunately, considering the
circumstances of the party, I doubt that's feasible.  I'll need
someone to stay close to me during the party, watching my back. 
Someone should stick with Mr. VanOrder as well, just in case."
        "We're one step ahead of you, kid." Al replied, "Donna will
be mingling with Mr. VanOrder, and I'll be with you.  Gooshie will
mingle with the crowd, trying to get a feel for things and maybe
stir up some leads for us." 
        Sam glanced sidelong at Gooshie.  Somehow the undercover
detective role didn't seem to fit the short guy with bad breath. 
Still, he was glad that he'd have Al close at hand.  There was no
one else he'd rather trust his life to.  Sam noticed in passing
that Donna seemed distinctly ill at ease with the plan, but made no
protest.  In fact, she hadn't contributed to the conversation at
all.  Sam wondered why she was so distracted, so distant.  Granted,
it wasn't the first time.  One of the most uncomfortable times of
his life had been when she was giving him the silent treatment in
retaliation for something he'd done.  He couldn't remember what it
was, but after all they'd been through since then, it was trivial
in comparison.
        All they'd been through?  Sam thoughts stopped dead, and
circled back.  What had they been through?  He couldn't remember. 
There was a memory flitting just beyond his grasp, but the harder
he tried to catch it, the more distant it became.  It faded
entirely and Sam wondered if he may have just imagined it.
        There was a knock at the door.  "Who is it?"  VanOrder
called. 
        There was a pause before Sidney's voice drifted through
uncertainly.  "Mr. VanOrder?  Security."
        "Just a minute!"  Sam cut in, before VanOrder could
respond.  Sidney had heard Sam's voice reply to his knock.  Sam
hoped that, by taking charge of the situation with VanOrder's
voice, Sidney would think it was just a fluke.
        VanOrder, having realized the problem, stood abruptly and
moved from behind the desk.  Sam sat in the empty seat and glanced
around, making sure everyone was in place.  There could be no
indication that Sam wasn't who he claimed to be.  "Come in,
Sidney." he called.
        The door opened tentatively and Sidney popped a head in,
glancing at the occupants of the room curiously.  His gaze lingered
momentarily on VanOrder.  The others he'd probably met during
VanOrder's negotiations with the Project for the bequest, but Sam's
aura presented a new face.  A security guard who took his job
seriously, Sidney was probably filing the face away for future
reference.  At least, that's what Sam hoped the man was thinking. 
To be safe, though, Sam diverted the man's attention.  "What is it,
Sidney?"
        "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir." Sidney replied, turning to
face Sam, "but I wanted to inform you that the first guests are
arriving."
        "Thank you, Sidney.  We'll be done here shortly and will be
down."  Sam considered and said, "By the way, have you seen
Elizabeth?"
        "I believe she's dressing for the party, sir." Sidney said,
flushing slightly, "Should I let her know you're looking for her?"
        "That won't be necessary." Sam said, "but I'd like you to
keep an eye on her tonight."  VanOrder made a restrained movement
in his chair.  "There's been rumors of violence tonight, and I
don't want her hurt."
        Sidney's eyes widened momentarily.  "Certainly.  If I may
ask, sir, what's the content of these rumors?  If it's something my
men should be on the lookout for..."
        "There may be an attempt on my life." Sam stated simply. 
He glanced at VanOrder and said, "It's a fleeting chance only, but
the possibility does exist.  However, I suspect the extra security
you've arranged for tonight will be adequate."  Sam gestured to the
assembly and said, "We've been making contingency plans in the
meantime;  you may want to notify your men of that, so they don't
get suspicious."
        "Yes, sir." Sidney said.  He nodded to the people in the
room and left, closing the door gently behind him.
        "What's the meaning of having him guard my daughter?"
VanOrder demanded even as the door was closing.  "I've told you
she's not the one you're after."
        "Maybe not," Sam agreed, "but I'd rather take precautions. 
Besides, it's possible her life is in danger as well.  If an attack
on me - or you - was foiled, she may be the next likely target.  I
doubt Sidney will let her out of his sight."
        VanOrder had to agree to the logic of the argument.  "We'd
better get downstairs and start mingling with the guests.  The
media will be here soon, if they aren't already."  He stood up and
everyone else followed suit. 
        "Donna." Sam said, as the woman was approaching the door. 
"I'd like to talk to you for a moment."  Donna glanced at Al and
returned to her seat.
        Closing the door, Sam sat on the arm of one of the chairs
on her side of the desk.  "I'm getting fleeting memories of you,
and I don't know what to make of them.  I hope you'll excuse me
if this sounds out of line, but are we...I mean, did we...?"  He
trailed off awkwardly. 
        Donna smiled coolly.  "We were lovers for a time." she
replied, "Things didn't work out, but we were able to maintain a
professional and platonic relationship."  There was more, much
more, to it, but she felt no need to burden Sam with the details. 
Now that she'd recovered from the initial depression of her husband
not remembering her, she'd accepted the fact that if he was meant
to remember her, he would have. 
        Sam nodded.  "And that's why you seemed so disappointed
when I didn't remember you."  He sighed.  "I am sorry."
        Donna patted his hand gently.  "It's okay, Sam.  I
understand.  It's not your fault.  Besides, you've had your memory
back before.  You'll get it back again."  That was as close as she
was going to come to telling him the complete truth.  Maybe knowing
that he'd remembered it before would help him remember again. 
Somehow, though, she doubted it. 
        "I hope so." Sam said.  He smiled at her and stood up,
extending a hand to help he from he chair.  "Shall we go, Doctor?"
        Donna took his hand, standing, and for an infinitely brief
moment, it was as though she were with him and they were together
again, in love.  The moment passed and they joined the others in
the ballroom. 
                     _____________________________________