Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1999 22:26:57 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Mirror - part 13 Message-ID: Quantum Leap Mirror of Deception by Katherine Freymuth and Gary Marsh Copyright 1998 Part 13 Sam stared out the living room window, watching the snow fall. He hadn't slept well last night. The conversation he had with Al still haunted him. The more he re-played it in his mind, the more confused he was. Al had never before expressed any feeling of not belonging. What was more, he was giving up the only life he had known for the past forty years and for a woman he couldn't have known for too long - maybe two or three months. But why did he never mention her before? The Imaging Chamber door opened with a loud whoosh, letting Sam know that someone was coming. He didn't turn around, though. He didn't have to turn around to know with certainty that the someone was not Al. "Gushie," Sam greeted quietly. "Dr. Beckett," the head programmer returned the greeting. "So, it's true," Sam commented mostly to himself. "Al did resign." Gushie hesitated. "I'm afraid so." The two were quiet for a moment. "So, who is this woman?" Sam questioned. "Woman, Dr. Beckett?" Sam frowned and turned to look at Gushie for the first time since he arrived. "The woman for whom Al is giving up his career." Gushie shook his head. "This is the first time I've heard it, Dr. Beckett. The Admiral didn't ask a word to anyone other than yourself and Dr. Beeks. There certainly was no mention of a woman to Dr. Beeks. That is, unless he was referring to Tina." Sam shook his head. "No, it wasn't Tina." He exhaled and shook his head again before looking at Gushie. "Does Ziggy have anything new for me?" Gushie's flickering image faded for a moment as he consulted the handlink. "Well, she now ways that there is a sixty-two point six percent chance that there is another leaper here and the odds are continuing to increase as she eliminates probabilities on what you are here to do." "How many probabilities are there now?" Sam questioned, remembering that the last time the number was over one hundred million. "Two thousand one hundred three," Gushie replied after a moment. "She's eliminated a lot," Sam commented. "She isn't sure but she thinks that the other leaper made a decision which helped her narrow the probabilities. She doesn't know what that decision was, however." Sam exhaled. "Had to be one hell of a decision. Now that Ziggy's eliminated more of the probabilities, can she give me a percentage on what I'm here to do?" Gushie consulted the handlink again, gently tapping it to gain more information from its loose circuits. He frowned at what he read. "Ziggy says that there's a sixty-two percent chance that you're here to undo the wrong the other leaper is going to do." "And that wrong is?" Sam questioned. His new partner hesitated. "She isn't sure on that, either." Sam sighed in frustration. Gushie continued. "However, she believes that you're here to help Terry's son in some way." "Keith," Sam told Gushie the boy's name. "Al said he becomes a Senator." Gushie nodded. "That's correct. Which is probably why the other leaper somehow changes his history: because of how his actions as a Senator help the project." Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. Go back and work with Ziggy. Find out what happens to Keith." "Affirmative, Doctor," Gushie replied briskly. He opened the door and started to leave. He hesitated a moment, though, seeing an expression on Sam's face. "Dr. Beckett?" Sam looked at the programmer with questioning curiosity. Gushie paused. "I miss him too." A young man named Kirk Ginty was pacing his small apartment's living room, anxiety in his face. It wasn't a hard favor that Adam wanted of him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done a felony. After all, it was committing a felony that had gotten him in such sever debt with the drug pusher. Dealing in drugs wasn't exactly legal itself. Still, what Adam was asking was, well, weird, to say the least. Robbery wasn't that strange but.... A certain amount from a certain place at a certain time? Wasn't Monday at three in the afternoon as good as Tuesday at one fifty-two? Why not one thirty or two? Why one fifty-two? He looked up at the small digital clock that sat on his twenty-year old television he had bought at Goodwill. Twenty- seven hours and three minutes until he robbed that jewelry store. Then, then.... Then what? Go into debt with Adam again? He didn't like the prospect at all. He looked at his make-shift coffee table, at the object that lay on top of it. He huffed in self-rebuke. *Why didn't I use that thing on Adam when he gave it to me? Bang! and he would have been gone! Dead! No huge debt to worry about.* He hesitated at the thought. *But then there are his "friends". I don't think I like the idea of getting in trouble with the mafia.* He slowly picked up the revolver, judging its weight in his hand again. *There is the other option*, he thought. He slowly raised the pistol, placing the barrel of the gun to his temple. *All I'd have to do is pull the trigger and my problems with Adam would be permanently over.* He closed his eyes, ready to end his life with one bullet. A moment later, he slowly lowered the pistol and opened his eyes. "I don't want to die," he whispered to himself, remembering his life until that moment. He still had so many years ahead to make up for his faults, faults he swore right there and then to correct - but later. After all, what was one more armed robbery?