From: nakazawa@phakt.usc.edu (Rei Nakazawa) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative,alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: NEW STORY: "Leap Year" (3/6) Date: 9 Nov 1995 23:28:00 -0800 Organization: University of Southern California, Los Angeles, CA Message-Id: <47uuu0$q3f@phakt.usc.edu> Thames appeared in a forest, near a small river. There they were, his quarry: Beckett and Alia. He smiled wickedly; he could just imagine Zoey's (and his) glee watching them suffer and die. Perhaps she'd even save something special for Beckett for ruining everything. Maybe she'd shoot him in the knees first, then the elbows, and watch him bleed to death. At least, that's what he'd do. "Gotcha!" he shouted. Alia looked up at him. "Hologram at your service, baby!" "Thames?" she asked weakly, unbelieving. He smiled at her confusion and helplessness. This would be too easy. "Thames?" Beckett asked, looking around. Of course, since he wasn't connected to either Alia's or Zoey's neurons and mesons, he couldn't see him. "You ready to die, sweet-cakes?" he gloated. "What's going on?" Alia asked in confusion. "Where's Zoey?" "Timing," Thames chuckled. "It's all timing, baby!" Zoey was right. It all came down to timing... "Zoey..." Beckett gripped Alia's shoulders. "Zoey's here, Alia. She Leaped." Alia's mouth opened and closed in disbelief. Thames smiled even more widely. Helpless as a newborn babe. * * * The door noiselessly slid open. Thames silently strolled inside. The only sound was the slow, relentless beep-beep of a heart monitor. There she was, lying across a small table, mostly covered with a light blanket in the chilly, air conditioned room. She didn't look right; she was never that helpless before. Tubes running up her nose and out of her arms, she was emaciated, her muscles much smaller from half a year of unuse. Thames pulled up a chair and sat next to the comatose Zoey, watching for the slightest twitch of the eyelid, the barest tremble of a lip, anything to show that she was regaining consciousness. There was nothing. Once again, as it did every time he saw her, rage built up inside him, hot and stifling. It was all their fault! Even through the pain of his torture, what hurt the most was knowing that Zoey was somewhere, dying, and he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it. * * * "It's over, Sam!" Alia said. She was trapped, and she knew it. She knew there was no escaping her fate. "It's not over unless we say it's over!" Dr. Samuel Beckett, eternal optimist. Sad, really. "Sam, it's over! Save yourself!" "There's no one getting saved tonight!" Thames cut in gleefully. He barely heard the pursuing guards and trucks approaching down the nearby road. "Zoey!" he shouted. "Get over here!" With a final wide grin, he pressed his hand link and the two poor, doomed fools vanished from his sight. * * * Thinking about it, Thames realized that he was glad he'd been assigned to be Monica's Observer. After all, they had to meet up with Beckett again, sooner or later, and when they did, Thames wanted to be there when Monica ripped his throat out. Monica was everything Alia should have been, and more. Without her or Beckett to mess things up, he was as good as dead. Oh, it would be a wonderful thing to see, to finally give Beckett what he so richly deserved. For seducing Alia. For making Zoey like this. For making him go through a month of pure hell. For mucking up time and ruining the entire purpose of the Project. For a lot of things. Thames would be there. He would make sure that Beckett suffered a thousand deaths... Alia. There was someone else that he would dearly liked to have gotten his hands on. The weak fool, she deserved whatever Lothos could dish out and more, much more. He was only sorry that the last time she was punished, Zoey had to be punished with her. But she was gone, no one knew where, and out of Lothos' wide reach. And that was the most infuriating thing about it. They almost had her. They were so close! * * * When his surroundings snapped back into a coherent image, Zoey had already parked in a small clearing. She obviously didn't need his help; with whatever it was blocking Alia's presence gone, Zoey could sense the traitor a mile away. Oh, this would be wonderful to watch. The brush nearby rattled. The fools were falling right into their hands. They emerged, Zoey gave a signal to her driver, and there they were, blinking like deer in the headlights. Zoey stepped forward and cocked her shotgun. She was obviously milking the moment for every bit she could get. And she richly deserved it, too. "Run, Sam! Save yourself!" Poor deluded Alia. Noble to the end. It was almost a shame; she was undeniably brilliant when she put her mind to it. It was almost a shame Zoey had to snuff that out... but not quite. "C'mon, Zoey," she shouted. "It's you or me!" She pushed Beckett to the ground just as... Zoey fired. Alia was just standing there, as if accepting her fate. Then she was engulfed in a strange blue light. The shotgun pellets were absorbed into this light as it washed over her. She vanished into it. When it subsided, a mousy blonde teenager was standing there instead. She collapsed to the ground. Thames quickly snapped out of his shock and began pounding at the hand link, trying to find answers. As the other guards began to arrive, the air was filled with sirens and excited voices. Vivian, the guard that helped Beckett and Alia escape, was standing by the good Doctor and the girl, examining her. "She was shot!" Vivian said in disbelief, feeling the girl's stomach. "I saw her get shot!" "She Leaped," Zoey told Thames, though it was glaringly obvious. "She didn't Leap back!" Thames shouted, still punching the hand link's buttons. "We lost her!" "Well, we still have you!" Zoey snarled, cocking the shotgun again. But before she could fire, Beckett grabbed Vivian's weapon and fired. Zoey fell over backwards. Thames instinctively stepped back. She was lying still, horribly still, on the ground. Thames saw the holographic image around him start to break up; he tried desperately to hold it, but it fizzled, broke up, and was gone... * * * When he realized that he couldn't hold the image, he'd sprinted out of the Projection Room into the Holding Chamber; medics were just carrying Zoey's body out. She was unnervingly close to death, but the Project Head ordered Zoey be taken by helicopter to the nearest hospital, which was unfortunately quite far. Her condition was critical, and she nearly died three times on the way. By some miracle, she made it. Some of the best surgeons in the nation operated successfully to stabilize her condition, thanks in part to several pints of blood and six hours, but she was still in a coma that nothing seemed to work on. The Project Head had demanded that she be taken back here to be cared for, in the slim chance that she wake up. She stayed in that coma to this very day. If there was one thing the whole incident proved, it was that the Project Head had been lying. Before Alia was brought in, Zoey and the Project Head were obviously lovers. She was devoted to him heart and soul; that was one of the reasons she was on the Project in the first place. It was widely known that the Project Head wanted Zoey to be his instrument of change and revenge, but he hadn't wanted to risk her life. Then Alia came. She was arrogant, vain, and immediately set about sleeping her way to the top. She seduced the Project Head, who foolishly reciprocated, pushing Zoey out of his romantic picture. He claimed that Zoey never meant anything to him; that's where he was lying. So Alia and he openly carried on. What neither had counted on was the woman scorned. Zoey manipulated and pushed until Alia was "chosen" to be Project Hades' first Leaper. Thames smiled a bit; that was the only time either the Project Head or Lothos had been openly defied and defeated. Of course, once Alia was gone, condemned to bounce around time putting the right things wrong, the Project Head realized the error of his ways. He also saw the reasons for Zoey's actions, and allowed her to become Alia's Observer, the better to keep watch over her and enjoy her loneliness, always Leaping, never stable. And there was also the fact that no one else at Project Hades was as qualified as Zoey to train Alia in what she had to do. And if there was any doubt that the Project Head did still love Zoey, the punishment he heaped on Thames for "causing" Zoey's coma dispelled those doubts. All that was gone now, gone in a single blast of a shotgun. Thames' blood once again boiled. Despite all the times she'd infuriated him, ordered him around, ignored him... he couldn't help the feelings that welled up in him every time he saw her in action, the pity he'd felt in her rejection, the shared pain. It was only recently he realized the long dormant love he felt for her, something he'd never admitted, despite years working with her. Now he may never get the chance. Beckett. It all came down to Beckett. Damn him! "I'll get him for you, Zoey. Alia, too. I promise." She didn't move a muscle at his words; he was half expecting her to. But it wasn't meant to be. He sighed deeply, got up, and left the room. Behind him, if one looked closely enough, it could almost seem that Zoey's mouth curled up into a hint of a smile. But, of course, that was impossible... "Admiral Calavicci, I have some news." Al hesitated, not sure if he wanted to hear this. Sometimes, just to break up the monotony, Ziggy would throw out some random bit of trivia. He often thought she did that just to annoy him. "Is this news relevant to Sam's Leap?" "Undoubtedly, Admiral." "Is this good or bad?" "I'm not sure." Al stiffened. It wasn't often that Ziggy found something she couldn't explain. When it did, though, it was almost never good. "You're not sure." "I'm detecting an unusual amount of temporal mesonic activity on February 29, 1956." "That's where... when Sam is now." "That is correct." "So what does that mean?" "I told you, I don't know. It could simply be due to the fact that the day Dr. Beckett Leaped into is February 29, a leap year." "What does that have to do with..." Al checked his watch. "Uh- oh, I'd better get back. There's not much time before that kid goes on his rampage." Al grabbed his hand link and ran into the already open Imaging Chamber door. "Admiral, I really think you should... never mind." Sam glanced at his watch nervously. There was only half an hour before the game, and he was no closer to stopping the oncoming tragedy. The phone rang and rang, but there was still no answer at Jeff's house, just as there was none the past ten times he'd called in the past half hour. He slammed down the receiver in frustration. Al was gone, checking up on some data, trying as hard as he was to figure out some way to stop Jeff. After that, he was supposed to check up on him; he would've asked Al right then and there if there'd been some way he could. He just hoped that Al was having better luck than he was. He looked at his watch again, as if hoping that the next time he looked at it, it would have began going backwards. But, as he all too well knew, time marched on, though not nearly slowly enough for his tastes. Finally, Sam grabbed the phone again and dialed Jeff's number. The other end began to ring. "Come on, come on..." Five, six, seven times, but no answer. Sam slammed the phone back onto its cradle. "Anything wrong?" Sam jumped at the voice. Michelle stood at the kitchen door, leaning against the door frame, her arms folded and smiling in amusement. "You're back." "Just got in. I needed to get some stuff before I went to the basketball game." Sam winced at the mere mention of the game. "Right." A long pause. "So, are you going?" "I... guess I have to." Michelle smiled. "Really? What for?" Without waiting for an answer, for which Sam was relieved, she continued. "Who were you trying to call there?" Sam considered, wondering if he could tell the truth. Who knows, she may be able to help him find Jeff. Then he remembered the way she reacted at lunch. It would take the truth, the whole truth, to get her to help him, probably, and Sam wasn't sure he was prepared to explain how he knew about what Jeff was going to do. "It's Jeff, isn't it?" Sam stopped, open mouthed. It was almost as if she'd read his mind. "What's going on with you and Jeff anyway? I didn't think you two got along that well." She spoke it like she knew what she was talking about, though Sam didn't know that she didn't. "I'm, uh, a little concerned about him." "Why? It's not like he's going to go crazy and kill people or anything." She smiled a little smile, and it almost seemed ironic, as if she knew... Sam shook away the thought. There was no way she could know. "It's just that, well, he's had a hard time." Michelle frowned. "I know that. I'm his girlfriend... or at least, I used to be." "What is going on with that, anyway?" Okay, he was supposed to be her little brother, it was time to be annoying. Maybe he'd get some information out of her, a reason for her recent actions. Or, at least, Sam hoped. "I thought you two liked... getting together all the time." Michelle threw a handy dish cloth at him. "Stop that! It's not that there was anything wrong with him..." She stopped. "Then what?" Sam pressed. "What? What happened that made you..." Michelle opened her mouth, as if she was about to answer, but she stopped. Her eyes wandered off him, as if she were listening to thin air. For some reason, it sent shivers up Sam's spine. _This is probably what I look like when I talk to Al. No wonder people..._ At that thought a memory briefly flashed by, a memory Sam knew was important. He tried to grab at it, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. He mentally groaned; just another thing to go wrong on this Leap. No matter, he'd think of it again. He just hoped it was soon. "Uh, look, Tyler," Michelle finally said, "I'm going to the game." She swept out of the kitchen. Sam followed and watched as she grabbed her coat from off a rack. "Hey, what about me?" "I don't have time to wait for you," she answered as she pulled her shoes on. "Call one of your friends to take you." Without waiting for Sam to speak again, she picked up her purse and hurried out the door. "Wait!" Sam shouted. He ran out the door, but the car was already pulling out of the driveway. Sam attempted to follow it, shouting for Michelle to stop, but she was quickly down the street and out of sight. Sam glanced back at the empty garage and groaned again, this time out loud. "Sam!" Sam turned, startled and annoyed. "Al, when will you stop doing that?!" "Look, I'm sorry, but I just stopped off at Jeff's house. He got one of his father's guns and he just left for the gym!" Sam's heart stopped. "Michelle just left and took the only car." He began to run back towards the house. "I've got to call someone to..." "No time!" Al insisted. "You've got to get there now!" "Then how am I..." Sam looked around wildly. At the end of the block, one of the late busses pulled next to the curb. Sam began running, running as if his life depended on it, sprinting down the block. A couple of people entered the bus, paid their fare, and sat as Sam was halfway there. The bus paused for a couple of seconds more, and the driver pulled a lever. The doors ground shut... and were interrupted by a pair of hands. Sam pulled the doors open, panting. He patted his pockets. His jaw dropped. He felt them again, digging deep, his fingers probing for any sign of a coin or bill. The driver raised an impatient eyebrow as Sam searched. Finally, he felt something hard and cold. He drew out a dime, which he plunked into the coin slot. "You were lucky, kid," the driver rumbled. "This is the last bus of the night." Nodding weakly, Sam staggered to the back of the nearly empty bus as it ground forward, dropping into a seat in near exhaustion. Al appeared right next to him. "Whew. That was close." "You're telling me?" Sam hissed. "How much time do I have?" Al checked the hand link. "About half an hour. This bus is ten stops away from the school. All you can do now is hope this thing doesn't make too many stops." As he finished talking, the bus stopped. An old woman slowly hobbled up the steps. Al sighed. Sam was too tired to do anything but let his head drop backwards over the edge of the seat back. Monica looked about the crowded gym. The bleachers were packed with cheering fans; chaos reigned as banners, ribbons, and confetti flew everywhere. "Dammit, where is he?" "We know Jeff's here," Thames explained patiently, "but we're having a little trouble getting a lock on him." "Why?" Thames sighed with impatience. "It's a leap year, darling, remember? The temporal shifts going on right now are messing with our..." "I don't care!" Monica snapped. "Just find Jeff so I can make sure he goes through with this! I don't want anything messing it up now!" "As you command," Thames responded sarcastically. Before Monica could turn a glaring eye on him, he vanished. Sam pulled open the doors to the gym, sweating and panting. He looked about the crowded gym, which was still filling, and his stomach sank. "Al! Can you get a lock on Jeff now?" Al shrugged helplessly. "No can do, Sam. There's still this interference..." "Look, I'll look on this end, you try the other end and the locker room." Al grinned just a little, despite himself and the stress of the situation. "The girl's locker room isn't being used," Sam continued as he ran into the stands. Al's smile grew a little wider, then faded almost immediately as he walked through several people and began his search. "Thames." The voice came through his hand link. He jumped; Lothos usually didn't condescend to contact his Observer so directly. "Yeah, what is it?" "I can now say with 97.3% accuracy the cause of those strange readings I detected earlier." Brief silence. "Well? What?" "Do you want the short answer or the long answer?" Unbearably smug, as usual. "Short, all right? Now tell me, dammit! I don't have time for this!" "Another Leaper." Thames stopped cold. A strange hope welled up in him. "Another Leaper?" "Is there an echo in here? Yes, another Leaper. Most probably..." "Sam Beckett." "You got it. That's a 92% chance." Thames smiled so widely that he thought his face would split in half. He pressed his hand link, and his surroundings wavered, then solidified into a totally new area of the gym. Monica was picking her way through the crowd, looking for Jeff. "No thanks to you, I found him." She pointed towards the court, where Jeff was sitting right behind the opposing team's benches, squirming nervously. "Forget him! I've got bigger news!" Monica scowled. "What could possibly be that impor..." "Sam Beckett." Thames smiled as he watched Monica's face widen in shock. "Sam... Beckett?" "He's here, probably to stop you. We have to figure out who he is. Has anyone been really goody-goody lately?" Monica's eyes doubled in size. "Tyler..." "Who? You mean that little guy?" "Tyler!" Monica's mind was ablaze with realization. His concern with Jeff, those times he looked like he was listening to thin air... "Where is he? Can you get a lock on him, at least?" Thames desperately keyed at his hand link. "Come on, Lothos..." The hand link screen flashed. "Got him!" He pointed towards the back of the gym. "There he is!" Monica began weaving towards him. "What the hell are you doing?" "I'm going to go see him." Al appeared nearby. "I still haven't found him, Sam. He's not playing, and I've been over the whole stadium. No sign of him." "Look again!" Sam said desperately. "He has to be around here somewhere!" "Tyler!" Sam looked up. Michelle was waving to him from a couple of rows down. Sam turned to Al. "You keep looking. I'll see if Michelle's seen him." Al raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Whatever you say, kid." He vanished as Sam made his way to Michelle's side. "You looking for Jeff?" she asked, getting right to the point. "Yes! Where is he?" "Follow me." She led him through the crowds, pushing past what seemed to be several hundred people. He reached forward to try to grab her shoulder, as she was often nearly overwhelmed by the press of people they were navigating. Each time, though, she stepped forward, barely missing his grip. Finally, they made it to a pair of swinging doors near the back of the gym. They entered, finding themselves in a long concrete hallway. "Come on." The two finally stopped in front of a large wooden door with "Men's Locker Room" stenciled in white on it. She pushed it open and entered without hesitation. Sam paused, then followed. The room was empty; lockers hung open, towels slung everywhere, as most of their owners were currently on the court. But there was no sign of Jeff. Sam turned towards her. "Michelle?" He watched as she slid shut a heavy bolt on the door and backed up against the door, blocking his path. "What's..." "Sorry, 'Tyler.' Can't let you interfere anymore." "Michelle! Stop joking around." She grinned serenely. "Who's joking?" Suddenly, she turned her head towards her left. "How am I supposed to keep him here?" she hissed to empty air. Sam frowned. There was that memory again, begging to be noticed. "Sit tight? What plan? How the hell am I supposed to..." She blinked. "Thames? Don't leave now, dammit!" "Michelle," Sam said sternly, "get out of my way!" He grabbed her arm to pull her away before she could react. An electrical sensation pulsed through his arm. Michelle's face seemed to waver and distort, pulling apart, then settling into someone... totally different. Sam gasped. "Wh-who are you?" "I know who you are," the new woman laughed. "I think that gives me an advantage! Just call me Monica." The memory that had eluded him for so long hit Sam with the force of an atomic bomb. "You're another Leaper, aren't you? Like Alia?" Monica's admittedly attractive face twisted into a sneer. "I'm nothing like Alia. For example, I have no qualms about killing you right now." Sam looked her over. She was tall and thin, but he knew that that was no indication of whatever strength she possessed. He didn't have much time; he had to force his way past her. Al chose that moment to appear by her side. "Sam, I found him. He's..." He trailed off as he saw Monica. "Who's she?" "This is Monica, Al. She's another Leaper." "She's..." He pointed at her in disbelief. "You mean like..." Sam nodded grimly. Al's breath escaped him in a rush. "Oh, boy." "So Admiral Calavicci's here, too." Sam and Al glanced at each other in amazement. "No matter. Lothos should be taking care of you very shortly, Dr. Beckett." Sam's face hardened as he grabbed her arm again. "I'm going out there." Before he could pull her out of the way, Monica watched as Sam was suddenly engulfed in a familiar crimson light. It overwhelmed her vision... When it settled, another man entirely was standing before her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Thames?!!" she asked in disbelief. Thames grinned wider as he looked over his shoulder into a mirror, seeing Tyler Wharton reflected in it. "Honey, we got it made!" Continued in part 4...