Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1999 22:21:40 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Mirror - part 6 Message-ID: Quantum Leap Mirror of Deception by Gary Marsh and Katherine Freymuth Copyright 1998 Part 6 A moment ago, he was elsewhere. *Someplace horrible*, he recalled. *Someplace I hope I never have to be again.* He looked around at his surroundings. It seemed to be a construction site in front him across the street. *There's something about construction in my past but... Damn! I can't remember!* He closed his eyes in frustration. *Why can't I remember? Someone warned me that this might happen but... gawd! I can't really remember my name!* He rubbed his face before looking down at himself. *Nice suit*, he noted, seeing the navy slacks and jacket accented by a white turtleneck shirt and black shoes. There was a bulge in the jacket. Opening it, he found a leather billfold in one pocket and a pack of Marlboros and a Bic lighter in the other. Taking out the cigarettes, he lit one before returning them to his jacket pocket and taking out the billfold. He opened the billfold and investigated it carefully. He found his name was Adam Studdard and that he lived in Philadelphia. He also found that Mr. Studdard was in the habit of carrying cash with him. Lots of cash. About a hundred thousands dollars worth. He put the billfold back in his jacket, wondering what to do next. Taking a drag on his cigarette, he looked at the construction site before him. Everyone seemed to be leaving for the day except for one person who remained high on the scaffold. He took another drag on his cigarette and frowned. There was something odd with that person but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Nasty area," a voice said from beside him. "Easy place to get mugged or killed." He puffed again. "Where the hell were you?" he asked without malice. "Never fear," the new arrival told him. "I'll always be here when you need me. Let's go. Your client is going to be a no-show so you might as well go to more comfortable surroundings." "Client?" he questioned. "I'll explain later," his partner told him. "Let's go." He took one last long drag on his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it with his shoe. He also took a last look at the person on the scaffold before following his partner down the street to a car. He left the area alone to meet his partner elsewhere. "Sam, open your eyes." Sam Beckett, time traveler, clinged tightly to the scaffold, his eyes shut as tightly as his grip. He didn't know how long he had been up there but, however long it was, it was too long. It didn't help that the scaffold reminded him of a barn - a very tall barn, much taller than the one in which he had acquired his acrophobia. "Tom?" Sam questioned quietly. Al exhaled slowly. *He has it really bad this time*, he thought, remembering the leap in which Sam had leaped into a trapeze artist. He was also remembering how Sam, as a boy, went up to tighten a rope, at his brother's insistence, in the family barn and froze. "It's Al, Sam. Come on. Open your eyes." Sam obeyed slowly to see his holographic partner a few feet from him. He exhaled in relief. "Al. I was having this nightmare that I was..." It was right then when he saw the ground twelve floors below him. He jittered back in fright. "Hey!" Al exclaimed. "Don't do that, Sam! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Sam took a couple of deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking at Al. "You okay?" Al questioned gently. Sam nodded slightly. "Good," Al replied, "because we've got to get you to the lift and down to solid ground. I am, of course, assuming that you don't want to spend the rest of this leap up here." Sam took a breath. "You got that right." Al nodded. "Okay. Look down that way." He raised his finger and pointed it to Sam's left. "You see that? Looks kind of like a cage? That's the lift. I want you to slowly make your way to it." Sam slowly stood up and looked at his objective but he could only see the distance to it, a distance with a lot of empty space on both sides of the girder on which he was standing. "Go on. One foot in front of the other. Grab the rope on your right for balance," Al urged. Sam looked to his right and saw the rope to which Al was referring. He grabbed the rope with his right hand and slowly started walking. When the rope ended securely attached to an upright girder, Sam stopped, a little frightened. "It's okay, Sam," Al told him. "Look down." Sam hesitated but obeyed. "See? Nice, flat, wide wood to stand on. The lift's right here so go on in, close the gate, push the down button." Al smiled. "I'll meet you at the bottom." Sam nodded slowly. "Thanks, Al." Al just gave a brief nod before punching a few buttons and disappearing. When Sam had finally reached the ground level, he opened the lift's gate and exited, walking towards Al. "You okay there, Sam?" the Observer asked with concern. "You still seem a little green in the face." Sam nodded. "I'm okay." He looked up at the scaffold from which he had come down. "Why did I leap up there?" Al shrugged. "GodFateTimeWhatever probably has a very sick sense of humor. Anyway, you've leaped into Terry Hatcher, no relation to the actress, a thirty-eight year old construction worker. It's December 12, 1982." "A Saturday," Sam supplied, surprised at the memory. "Susan Templeton and I are going to go out tonight. It's one of the best nights I remember having when I was at the think tank - before Star Bright." "Really," Al commented having listened politely but wanting to get back to the subject at hand. He smiled at the thought in his head. "One of the best _nights_?" he emphasized with a friendly leer. Sam smiled at him. "Yep." Al's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean, you and she, you...." Sam just smiled at him. "Why am I here?" he asked. Al paused before he took the handlink out of his jacket pocket again. *He's probably toying with me again*, he thought with amusement. He pushed a few buttons on the handlink. "Ziggy still doesn't know," Al told him. He looked at Sam, annoyance in his eyes. "She keeps saying history is changing but also not changing at the same time." Sam frowned. "Is there another leaper here?" Al hit the handlink with his palm. He frowned strongly. "Yes and no? What kind of answer is that?" He glared at the handlink, hitting it several times. Sam was thinking seriously about the answer but the reason for it continued to allude him. "Never mind that for now, Al," he told the Observer. "Tell me about Terry. Who is he and where am I?" Al exhaled in frustration of the uncooperative handlink. "Philadelphia," Al answered. "The city of brotherly love that contradicts its own slogan. Terry's a foreman in charge of the construction of the building you've just vacated. Fortunately for you, there's going to be a big snow storm on Sunday and several little ones after that and those will halt construction for a while." Sam exhaled with relief. "As long as I don't have to go up there again." Al nodded. "Terry has a wife, Renee, and a seven year old son, Keith. You live about twelve miles from here in a much better part of town and..." He hit the handlink once. He raised his eyes at Sam. "Sam, you're not going to believe who Keith is." Sam looked at Al with curiosity. "Who?" "Senator Keith Hatcher," Al answered emphatically. He saw Sam's confused look and waved his hand at him. "Actually, you would have never heard of him; he was elected into office after you leaped. This guy is the youngest Senator ever; he's twenty years old now. He almost single-handedly made our gaining funds from Congress easier. If it weren't for that particular bill, we probably would have been shut down last year." He took a breath. "Sam, I have a feeling this leap surrounds him. It can't be purely coincidental that you've leaped into Senator Hatcher's father." "What does Ziggy say?" Al hit the handlink again, forcing information from the small machine. "She says there are still... 100,327,422 possibilities of why you are here and that history keeps switching from one possibility to the other." He shook his head in disbelief. "She also says you should get home. The sun will be down soon." Sam nodded. "How?" Al frowned at him for a moment. "Oh!" he realized. "You own the red Ford truck. The keys are in your coat which is in the trailer on your left. I'll help you find the house and then I'm going to go back and see if I can get something that makes sense out of that computer of yours."