From: "M. Cogburn" Date: Fri, 4 Dec 1998 22:20:08 -0600 Subject: Portraits Of The Past -- Prelude Prelude January 9, 1996: 11:00 p.m. Swaldon Texas Jason Hughes rushed into his room and threw his jacket on the bed. He went to his desk, sat, then turned on his computer. While he waited for the computer to boot up, he rummaged through his second drawer to find the January disk. Ahh, he found it. He hurriedly placed it in the disk drive and went to his word processing program. He began to type: January 9, 1996: It's been an interesting evening. After school today, I went to her house. I had to see her. At the moment, she's the only one who understands how I feel. Since Ryan died, I haven't been the same. It's as if I've lost a part of "me". She told me that as long as I tell her exactly how I feel, and be totally and completely honest with her that she would help me. Unfortunately, I haven't been completely honest. Yes, I tell Margaret my feelings about Ryan dying but I haven't told her how I feel about her. I'm falling for her. We were sitting in her porch swing, on a cool night. We talked, but I don't remember about what. What I do recall was how the light sparkled in her eyes, and her smile. She had such a beautiful smile. When the wind picked up, she laid her head on my shoulder and we cuddled. Every time we got close, I wanted to kiss her, but, I didn't. I didn't want her to lose trust in me. The other reason I didn't is Jessica. I do care for her but something is missing. I just don't know what do to. He paused, read over what he had just written, and sighed. Slowly he typed: Honest: I do remember what we talked about -- Ryan's death; how he died and how much I want him back. I choked back tears at her house. I don't want her to see me blubber on like a kid. She must have noticed because she grabbed hold of my hand and squeezed it. What are my feelings for Margaret? Honest: I love her. I love her more every time I see her. She's kind, trustworthy, and has a wonderful personality. So, what's my problem? Jessica. What do I do about Jessica? Across town: She sat alone on her bed playing solitaire as she listened to the radio. She listened to songs dedicated to loved ones and came to the point of crying. She picked up the cards that were lying before her and placed them on the bedside table. She then opened the drawer and pulled out the only diary she had ever kept. She opened it to the next blank page, reached for a pen, then began to write. January 9, 1996: Jason came again tonight. We sat on the front porch and talked. We talked mostly about Ryan and how he felt about his twin brother's death. It was really sad. I felt so sorry for him. But, he didn't want me to know how he felt. He held it in. Instead of crying and letting himself grieve, he held it in. After everything they told us at the group sessions, I would think that he would have learned to let it out. He held me. Me -- that broad, muscular arm was around me and I laid my head on his shoulder. It felt great! His arm was around me because he wanted it there, not because I was weeping over my family's death. I just wish that I wasn't so timid around him. I wish I could tell him how I feel without fear of laughter or rejection. He probably wouldn't laugh at me, but just the thought of it gives me the willies. I just wonder what would happen . . . Somewhere in Time: He felt the moment of completeness and smiled as Al waved good-bye. He first felt the tingling at his extremities then it traveled through his body, then Time took him again on a roller coaster ride of brilliant pure blue and white vortex. He was himself again. Dr. Samuel John Beckett. He felt a sense of weightlessness as if was in an anti-gravity chamber, suspended. Floating and waiting. He knew he wasn't there alone. Someone lay in the light beyond always watching. The same someone who moved him through Time to fix what had gone wrong. The same someone who usually spoke to him while he waited in the brilliant light and told him the same thing when he asked to go Home - soon.. His mind wandered from the person who held his destiny and he began to remember. He remembered. He was surprised that he remembered things so clearly. He could remember that he could read by the time he was two years old - the year that his mother had taken him on his first train ride. He remembered feeling confused, frightened and sure that everyone was out to get him. To calm him his mother had given him a book to read. He remembered when he was nine years old when his other brother, Thomas had taken himself and his younger sister to the movie theater to see Tarzan. Afterward they went home to play Tarzan, swinging on a rope tied to a beam in the barn. The knot had loosened, and Tom had sent Sam up to tighten it. He froze after he had climbed up realizing that he was afraid of heights. Thomas had to climb up the rope after him and pry him down. He remembered his parents: John and Thelma Beckett. He realized now how much his parents had a profound effect on his life, teaching him about the evils of prejudice, instilling in him a set of morals and show him how to deal out discipline fairly and firmly. It warmed him to the core of his being to think of his parents. He was glad that he had grown up with parents who would sit down with him and listen to him. He remembered that he and his father would occasionally have heart-to-heart talks over a game of Ping-Pong. He remembered being smart and shy during his school years. High School came and went quickly and by the age of sixteen he enrolled at MIT. In the fall of 1970, he went to college. He finished four years of school in two years and became the youngest ever to graduate summa cum laude. He remembered the six doctorates he held and the eleven languages he could articulate; with four of them being dead ones. His gift to retain all the information he had required over the years was his photographic memory. He was able to keep track of everything as long as he had read it or heard it once. Now at the age of forty-six . . . forty-six? Was he really that old? At least he didn't feel that old. He remembered the Nobel Prize he'd won and how everyone was saying he was a symbol of every thinking man's aspiration. He recalled the Time magazine that had said he was the next Einstein of this century. He had felt amazed that they would compare him to his idol, but being a humble person, just couldn't believe it. He had worked on several projects for the government; one of which had been called Project Star Bright. Yet, Sam told the government after reviewing the data and the proposal for the project that there were just too many things that they didn't know. It was then that he began to dream up his last project -- the project that sent him into the past -- Project Quantum Leap. He felt that no one believed in the time travel project and he had to tell himself not to listen to others and their opinions. The project dealt with building an inspirational computer; a computer to send him back into the past to see and understand what really happened. He had done his research and hired the top minds to help him in his endeavors. They were: Verbeena Beeks, psychiatrist; Tina Martinez O'Farrell, Chief Architect and Pulse Communications Technician; George Steinman (also known as Gooshie), Head Engineer of Programming; and last but not least, his best friend, Admiral Albert Calavicci, Administrative Director. All were needed for the projects upkeep and the effects of leaping itself. His attention drifted away from his memories as he felt himself being pulled toward some fixed point in Time. Another point in Time that had ripped and he was going there to fix that rip. No! He wanted to keep remembering. He savored the memories that were still with him. He wanted to remember all he could before . . . . The memories slowly began to get harder to reach and were fading fast. He felt everything he had remembered slip away. "Please . . ." he started. A bright blaze of brilliant pure light engulfed him making all he remembered vanish. As the light began to take him to his next point in time, he heard the same phrase as always billow around him. "Soon, Sam. Very soon." As always, he hung on to the hope that after this leap he would be able to go home. Time and reality began again. His body was still tingling and his brain stopped reeling and spinning. He looked around bewildered. He was in a group of five teenagers -- three girls and two boys. The girls grimaced at a comment made. Mentally, he frowned. He quickly bit his lip wondering what they were talking about and if they were talking to him. The group was quiet and they were looking at him with anticipation. A quick glance at the group provided some answers to his situation. He was standing with a popular crowd. Two of the girls who were both knock-outs had on cheerleading outfits and both were possessively being held close to their tall, muscular boyfriends. Next to them stood an attractive brunette who wore tight blue jeans and a tank top that showed off her cleavage, a particular area that Sam tried not to look at. He shifted his weight to his right foot and stuck his hands in his back pockets. He licked his lips and frowned as if pondering what the group had said. His eyes glanced across the floor and he found an emblem engraved on the ceramic tile. It was an eagle. Around it was lettering. It read: Swaldon High School -- The Mighty Eagles. He licked his lips again. 'Oh no,' he thought, 'another high school leap.' High School meant that he had to deal with one of two things -- family problems or raging hormones. They were standing to the side of the main foyer of the school. Students filed in through the front doors, so he presumed that school was just about to start. He frowned -- a full day of school for a grown man with numerous doctorates. 'Great,' he thought to himself. 'This is just great.' "Well?" "What?" He asked looking back up at them. Obviously, he was the person addressed, but what about? The couples grinned jokingly, but the brunette's expression soured at his reluctance to answer. Sam gulped as she raised her arms to fold them before her. "So, we have an open relationship, do we? When did this happen? Yesterday? Today? A minute ago when you looked at someone else's butt? When?" Sam closed his eyes wondering why he always leaped in at inappropriate times. He sighed then opened his eyes so he could address her. "Look, it's . . . ." A sudden slap across his face silenced him from saying anything further. He massaged his jaw as he looked at her dumbfounded. The reactions from the people around him were of awe and total surprise. They tried to hide their amusement at the situation he had gotten himself into. "Good going, Jess. Jason needs to be put in his place." Someone shouted down the hallway. Sam's hand dropped at the comment. Who have I leaped into? Jason? That's the name that they had called out. What was her name? Jess? Yes, they had said Jess. Okay, well at least it's a start. "Look, Jess. . . " "No, you look. I'll give you another chance for us to date seriously. Either you commit yourself wholly to me -- or you can kiss the next girl that walks in that door and then you can take her to prom and live happily ever after." She said as she pointed to the entrance doors of the school. Sam looked up at the doors. They stood above a small flight of stairs twenty feet before them. He then fleetingly glanced back to the group. He looked at their faces as they tried to hide their amusement and grins at what he might do. He looked at Jessica baffled by her statement. "Let me get this straight." He raised his hand to his head to scratch it thoughtfully. "You're telling me to either commit wholly to you or to take a dare?" Sam questioned. "A dare that entitles me to kiss the next girl that walks through that door?" He pointed to the three sets of double doors as he lifted one eyebrow with curiosity. The dare -- the whole idea of commitment at this age seemed absurd, but nowadays . . . . He couldn't tell just by looking exactly what year it was, but he was sure it had to be in the early nineteen nineties. If that was the case, then commitment was a reasonable thing to argue about. "Well, I guess I am. Commit or take the dare." The brunette looked furious that he would even contemplate not dating her. She pursed her lips, clenched her teeth and watched him as he made his decision. He wasn't sure what to do. All he knew was that had leapt into a teenager named Jason who had just upset his girlfriend, Jessica. He could just imagine what would happen if he did take the dare and it wouldn't be pleasant. He glanced at her, the group, then up the stairs at the doors. All he could manage to say was a feeble, "Oh boy."