Message-Id: <3.0.4.32.19971120202352.006a7a34@earthlink.net> Date: Thu, 20 Nov 1997 20:23:52 -0600 From: "Christina L. Bartruff" Subject: KELLY Chap 11 Chapter 11 MARCH 6, 1960, PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP, STALLION'S GATE, NM "That's it," Donna announced angrily, entering the conference room where Beth and Verbena sat, quietly discussing the events of the past few days. Donna had just come from the Waiting Room. "Bena, I'm through trying to talk to that--" She caught herself. Beth gave her friend an understanding smile. Donna plopped down in the seat next to Beth, rubbing her forehead. "If Al wasn't with Sam right now, I'd drag him down to the Waiting Room to deal with his friend, personally." "There is another way," Verbena informed them. Beth knew what she meant by that. After all, she and Beeks had just discussed the possibility of visiting the Waiting Room, if she was up to it. Donna snorted, still a little angry. "If she goes down there, he'll treat her the same way he did you, me, and Sammy Jo." "Ah, but Beth has an advantage over us," Verbena pointed out. "What? Sibling hood?" "No, Donna. George wants to speak to the admiral. Let's give him one." Donna smiled, quizzically, "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" "Are you up to it, hon?" Beeks asked Beth. Beth sat back, considering. If she didn't do this now, she may never get the chance again. And she would regret it, if she was still able to remember that Sam had leaped into him. Beth nodded, slowly. "Al's always saying he wished he could get the same chance Sam had, to spend time with his sister and his father again, Bena. I shouldn't throw this chance away." Beeks patted her hand. "You'll be fine. If it gets to be too much for you, just leave." Beth stood up. "Well, I better not dwaddle. Sam could leap at any moment." "There is one thing, Beth." Verbena said, also standing. "Yes?" "It won't do any good to go in there and claim to be an admiral, if you don't look the part. Heck, any of us could say we're admirals. I think you should change into your uniform." Donna nodded in agreement. Beth thought about it. She never considered herself a real admiral. Real admirals commanded ships and troops, not hospitals. Al was her idea of an admiral, and he would be George's too, for that matter. If nothing else, the uniform would serve to distract George, and prevent him from being less than respectful. "I guess you're right." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A short while later, Beth moved purposely through the corridors of the project, to the Waiting Room. The two Marine guards outside, came to attention and saluted her. If they were surprised, they never showed it. The door slid open and she found herself face-to-face, literally, with Sam's aura. Beth gasped, startled. The Marine guard reacted, instantly, drawing their weapons and flanking Beth. George stepped back several steps into the room, never taking his eyes off the weapons. He had no way of knowing they were tranquilizers. Beth signaled to them, and they holstered their weapons. The immediate threat gone, one returned to his post, the other stayed at her side, watchful. George came to attention and saluted her. She did not return it. Hands clasped behind her back, she advanced into the room, trailed by the Marine. Though Al was more at ease with commanding, it was in Beth's blood. She gave the man wearing Sam's aura a cool, once-over. "What, precisely, were you doing, lieutenant?" "I was attempting to open the door . . ." He appeared to struggle with what to call her: sir or ma'am. "Admiral," he finally said, firmly. "Why?" she demanded. "Because I believed I was being held against my will, Admiral." There was no recognition in his voice or his expression. Beth was actually disappointed. "You believe you are a prisoner, lieutenant?" "Yes, Admiral." "Lt. Whitmore-Jones," she said crisply. "I was led to believe that you were briefed about certain things concerning your stay here. Am I correct?" "Yes, Admiral." "I was also told that you repeatedly demanded to speak with someone in charge, and when the situation here was further explained, you still demanded to leave this room. Am I correct?" He didn't answer as quick. "Yes, Admiral. I was told there was an admiral here and requested several times to speak with you." Beth pinched her own wrist, still hidden behind her back, to keep a straight face. "No, lieutenant, I am not the one the others were referring to. That admiral is my husband. He's been busy, lately, and relies on the others to carry out their duties here in the Waiting Room, without having to respond to every crisis they encounter. He can't always make a personal appearance." This was only partially true. This leap, and the circumstances surrounding Sam's previous one, had kept Al from the Waiting Room. She gauged George's reaction to her explanation before continuing. "You cannot leave this room, lieutenant. You will cooperate with Dr. Beeks. You will not make demands. You may ask questions, but do not expect answers. If my husband does make an appearance, because you have caused his staff more problems, I assure you now, he'll make you regret it. Do I make myself perfectly clear, lieutenant?" George clenched his jaw. "Yes, Admiral," he replied through gritted teeth. She sighed. This wasn't going the way she had hoped. The admiral facade dropped, and she crossed her arms over her breasts. "Oh, George." He looked at her in confusion. In her mind's eye, she pictured the look on George's face, not the aura's. "May I ask the admiral to identify herself?" he asked hesitantly. Beth didn't answer. She just smiled. An instant look of recognition spread across Sam's features. "Beth?" George said weakly, nearly missing the chair behind him as he sat down heavily. She nodded and took a seat across from him. The Marine guard retreated to the door, but did not exit. George continued to gape. "So . . . Donna? . . .was telling me the truth? This is the future?" Beth nodded. "What happens to me?" "I'm not at liberty to tell you that, George. I'm sorry." "How did you ever end up on a project like this?" He didn't seem to notice she hadn't answered his question. Beth carefully worded the answer. "My husband and Dr. Beckett are very good friends." She knew what the next question out of his mouth would be. He didn't disappoint her. "Who's your husband?" George had told her that he'd always known, from the very moment he met her, she would be the one Al would marry. This leap would just reinforce that belief in his mind. Beth just smiled again. Again, George knew the meaning behind the smile. "So, Al's an admiral. You know, I told my father once that Al would one day wear stars. How many?" "Three." "What are his chances at the fourth?" Beth laughed. "Zero. They don't promote retirees, George." He winced. "And you?" "The same. Besides, it was rare that they promote a nurse to three, let alone four, George." She always suspected the reason behind her third star had something to do with her parentage. It irked her, but it also put her in a position to do things that improved both the nurse corps and the Navy medical community. He studied her, still a little awed by the revelation, for several minutes. She endured his scrutiny. Beth and Verbena had discussed whether or not to mention the relationship to George. Based on his reaction to the news, originally, Beeks wanted to discuss the father/son relationship with George first. Since he had given her a hard time, she never got the opportunity. Beth promised that she would not tell him, until Beeks gave the go-ahead. "You're not going to answer my questions, are you?" George said, suddenly. "It depends on what you ask. Most Visitors ask question we cannot answer." "Is JP all right?" Beth smiled. "Don't worry. Sam's a medical doctor and he wouldn't let anything happen to JP while he's there. And he's not the reason Sam's in 1960." George sighed in relief. "Well, I guess I should just sit back and relax." "Is there anything else?" "Since you can't reveal my future, and the past is filled with holes, there really isn't much to talk about, is there?" "No, there isn't." Regretfully, she stood up to leave. He automatically rose with her. "When you see Al," George said, hesitantly. "Say hi for me. Oh, and congratulate him for me on his stars. You too, by the way." He grinned suddenly. "I suppose I could work on my Best Man toast, couldn't I?" Beth smiled, fondly. "Yes, you could. And thank you. You won't see me again, before Sam leaps out, George, so I'll say good-bye now." Then Beth did something that surprised both of them. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and left. MARCH 6, 1960, CONTROL ROOM, PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP Al crossed into the Control Room, trying to keep his temper. *I warned him.* After informing Sam of Kelly's fate, Al had Ziggy center him on the nurse to hear her side of the conversation. She never once mentioned the incident with 'George' to Henry. On a hunch, Al also dropped in on Henry , after checking back with Sam, letting him know where he was going and what Kelly had said. Al was hoping to catch him doing something, anything, he and Sam could use. The guy had his nose stuck in a book. Some electrics manual, Al supposed. Henry had approximately five minutes from the time he hung up on Kelly to the time Al showed up, to either make another phone call or hide anything that would point fingers. Al hung around for half an hour watching him read, and trying to find some incriminating evidence. Al even checked outside his apartment, looking for henchmen monitoring Henry's every more. Nothing screamed "Mafia", so Al reported back to Sam his lack of findings, and returned to the project. "Ziggy," Al called, handing the link to Tina, "What do you have?" Ziggy had the good sense not to play dumb. "I have recently checked into Mr. Carson's financial situation. He is currently living above his reported income." "Don't we all?" "And he pays for many luxury items in cash." "So? Maybe he doesn't like banks or plastic?" "His car, for instance." That caught Al by surprise. "That's more like it. But it's not really enough. We need hard evidence. Something Sam can get his hands on, with little or no difficulties." "I will continue my research, Admiral. Anything else?" "Yeah. Do you have the files on the most recent version of her death?" "Yes, Admiral." "Well?" "The circumstances are identical to the original history." Al narrowed his eyes. "How identical?" "Same restaurant, same scenario in the parking lot with Mr. Carson's old friend, the airtight alibi Mr. Carson. Mr. Carson and his friend spent several hours at the bar." She paused. "Before you ask, Admiral. It will still take me three days to compile the data on him and present a plausible case." "Damn! I've got to find away for Sam to convince Kelly not to go tonight." "Admiral, I predict a 100% probability of failure." Donna and Beth entered the Control Room. Al noticed his wife's uniform and troubled expression. "I heard history changed, Al." Al nodded grimly. "What's with the uniform?" As soon as he asked, it occurred to him that Sam may have affected history in a way that influenced her choice of clothing earlier. "I just came from visiting George. He won't give Bena a hard time, now." Donna went to confer with Ziggy and Gushie. Al pulled Beth to one side and she related the encounter in the Waiting Room. "I'm glad I did it, Al, but I also wish that he and I had more things to talk about." "It's rough, I know," he told her soothingly, "but you've got a chance to do something other's can only wish for and dream about." Her expression became thoughtful. "JP. I'd like to see him, if you could manage that." "I'll see what I can do, honey." "Al, " Donna called. Al and Beth walked over to the main terminal. "I think it would be best," Donna announced, "if Sam let's her go on the date, and the pair of you wait in ambush for her attackers." He hated that solution, but the more Al thought about it, the more he realized it was the only option left. He sighed. "All right. Sam's with JP at the moment. We'll still run the scenarios and do the research. If, by 1700 hours, Pensacola time, we've got nothing concrete, I'll advice Sam of the plan." SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1960, NAS PENSACOLA Sam had a rough day, and he knew it was going to get worse. Al had left him, earlier, without verbally telling him 'I told you so', and Sam went to visit JP. Not long after, while he was reading to JP, Al appeared again this time with Beth. The couple ignored him, and instead, stood silently watching JP as Sam read aloud. Forewarned of the relationship, Sam realized that this was Beth's only chance at seeing the man she knew was her paternal grandfather, while he still lived. They stayed for about fifteen minutes and then left. Sam returned to the barracks and was sitting on the steps, replaying the events that transpired in front of the Nurses' barracks. Al had been right and Sam had cut their research time from six days to six hours. Sam hadn't seen the Observer since the brief visit with JP. Sam did see Al though. Not long after getting back to the pilot's barracks, the familiar black corvette pulled into the lot. Beth was pulling the double shifts on Sunday, so the couple had dinner, and then she had retired for the evening. Al came and sat by him for a few minutes, listening to him try to explain the situation with Kelly. The young pilot was sufficiently upset when Sam told him what he suspected about Henry. Al asked him if he could prove it. Sam admitted that he couldn't. Without proof, Al the younger was reluctant to make a move. Now Sam was alone again. He hauled himself up and headed for the car. He decided on going back to the barracks and try again. There were certain leaps, Sam recalled, when he had revealed his true identity without dire consequences, as a last ditch effort to right the wrong. He didn't know if it would work or not, but he was desperate enough to give it a try. He was halfway there when Al popped in beside him. Al looked exhausted. Sam knew, without asking, that the Observer had spent the last five hours or so, tracking down evidence. "Anything?" Sam asked quietly. "Henry has some unusual banking and buying habits. Ziggy can't say for sure where that extra money is coming from. He could be taking bribes or embezzling. Sorry, Sam." "Don't apologize, Al. It's my fault we've lost a week." "The current consensus from the project is that we ambush her attacker at Bob's Diner." Al looked out the window, realizing where they were headed. "Why are you going back?" "I'm going to tell her who I am, Al." "Sam- -" "Please, Al, don't get on my case. It's worked before, without causing problems." Sam expected an argument. Either Al was too tired to argue, or he wasn't going to waste his breath arguing about something he believed wasn't going work. Kelly, as it turned out, refused to see him. Sam didn't push the issue. George was already going to have his hands full when he returned. There was no point in making things worse. As Sam walked back to the car, where the Observer stood, he wondered if he had leaped into the most appropriate person to accomplish this leap. "I guess we do the ambush thing, huh?" Al commented quietly. It was the closest he came to telling him off. "I've leaped into the wrong person, Al" Sam told his Observer, leaning against the car. "You don't get to choose who you leap into, Sam. That's not stopped you before. What makes this so different?' "Everything. I screwed up this leap. I'm so sorry, Al" "Sam, we still have a chance to save her tonight." Sam shook his head. "We don't know how many, or who, had a hand in this plot. I have a feeling that if we try to ambush her, we'll scare off the plotters. We'll be back to her dying next weekend or worse, they'll come after me." Sam looked over at the barracks. "There's only one person who can save Kelly's life," he commented. "Who?" Al asked, quizzically. Sam didn't answer. He stood up straight, abruptly, startling Al. Ziggy was chirping frantically. Sam knew why. The all-too familiar sensations of a leap out washed over him. "Al, I'm leaping!" @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ ~This isn't over yet. One more chapter....