From: "M. Cogburn" Date: Fri, 4 Dec 1998 22:26:07 -0600 Subject: Portraits Of The Past, Part 7 Chapter Seven Stallion's Gate 1999 Admiral Albert Calavicci woke up in his quarters at Project Quantum Leap, rolled out of his bed and looked at the terminal humming quietly on the desk across the room. There was a message blinking on the screen. He rubbed his eyes and quickly padded over to the desk. The message blinked on and off on the terminal. It read: EVIDENCE INDICATES THAT MARGARET DAWSON WAS DELIBERATELY TERMINATED. Al frowned. "Deliberately terminated?" He ground his teeth flustered. Ziggy may be more intelligent than other computers, but she was still too damn literal minded. Murdered? He typed. TERMINATED -- MURDERED. By whom? UNABLE TO DETERMINE. The terminal paused, flickered. SORRY ADMIRAL. "Ah, crap." He padded into the bathroom to prepare himself for a new day -- another shower and shave. Toweling himself dry when he came out, he glanced at the terminal hoping Ziggy found something else. Nothing. Al finished drying himself and neatly hung the towel over the towel rack. Although he had a fixed morning routine, which consisted of forty-five minutes of intense exercise, he skipped it wanting to go talk to Jason. He burrowed through the brightly colored wardrobe that took up one corner of the room. Dressed, finally, in a natty red suit with a matching scarlet fedora and a paisley tie that shrieked against a black shirt -- he left the room without locking it and headed for the Operations Center. Project Quantum Leap was buried in a remote corner of New Mexico, in a land so desolate that no one could thrive there. The Operations Center was deep in an artificial cave system. To get to it, he had to leave the living quarters, walk a rather long corridor and take an elevator down several stories. His footsteps echoed on the concrete floors as he approached the center. He stopped at the Waiting Room door and looked inside the small window. Jason was pacing back and forth as he talked. Al guessed that he was either talking to himself or to Ziggy as Sam did. Either way, the movement was reassuring. Last night, against Verbeena's wishes, he sat with Jason for hours explaining what Quantum Leap was about and how it was affecting his life. He knew that he shouldn't have done it -- it was against the rules he followed, but he thought that maybe if Jason understood what was going to happen, then maybe he might know why Margaret would get killed. As he watched, Sammy Jo came down from the observatory booth with a drink in hand. Al opened the door and approached him as he took a long swallow. He paused in the doorway and bit his lip as he wanted to call out the name that ought to go with the person who stood in the room, and every time he had to make himself stop and look again. It was Sam Beckett. It was certainly his body -- his aura: a man in his early forties, tall, fit but not thickly muscled, green eyes open and honest, well-defined jaw, a lock of hair startling white against the brown hanging down over his left brow. Jason turned to see Al and he grinned as he strolled over toward him with Sammy Jo in tow. Looking into his friend's eyes, Al saw instead a muscle-bound teenager who deeply cared for the young woman and wanted to go to her aid. "I've been having such an interesting conversation with Ziggy, Al." "Really? What about?" He asked trying to keep cheerful before he had to give the kid a blow. "Women -- discussing how men can understand them better." Sammy Jo gave a disgruntled gasp and frowned only to grin as Jason poked a long finger into her rib. Al grinned wondering if he would ever understand women himself. He doubted it since he had five marriages and five divorces. "Look Jason, we need to talk." "What about?" He grinned at Sammy Jo as she excused herself. "Ziggy just found out new information about Margaret. There's a good chance that she was murdered." Al decided to be blunt and straight-forward instead of evasive as he usually was. "A ninety-two point four percent probability." Ziggy added. This rocked Jason and shoulders drooped. His eyes widened and they blinked unbelieving. "Murdered? Who would murder Margaret? She never hurt anyone." "That is what I was going to ask you. Are you sure you don't know of anyone who could hold a grudge?" Al shifted his stance as he watched Jason carefully. "No." He replied simply. "Unless . . ." "What?" "Unless Sam did something different than what I would do. What has he done so far?" Al quickly ran down the events he knew up to the present -- no past. Whatever. "Would you have taken that dare?" Al asked warily. It didn't take long for Jason to respond. "Probably not. I guess that I'm like Rip Van Winkle. When it came to Jessica, I was hen-pecked." He removed the white lock of hair away from his eye and sighed. "She's so beautiful and popular but . . ." "But what?" Al asked as he narrowed his eyes. He hated the buts. "But she has a lousy attitude." Jason went to the bed and sat down on it. "I mean, there were rumors flying about the last guy she dated. He'd say something wrong and she'd slap him. If she ever touched me like that, I'd -- I'd . . ." He stammered not knowing exactly what he would do. "She did." Jason looked back at Al with a shocked expression. "She slapped Sam not too long after he leapt in." Al remembered the hand print but had not inquired on how he got it. "What would you do?" "Leave her. I'd probably take the dare then." "That's what Sam did. Would that embarrass her or upset her enough to try to take revenge on you or Margaret?" He had to think about that one. He bit his lip and scratched his neck as he looked at his feet that dangled from the bed. He finally looked up at Al and shrugged. "I don't know." Curled on his side, Sam Beckett was asleep; his mouth slightly opened and his breathing still deep and regular. Slowly, though, he turned onto his back and began to wake. He became aware of something on the bed with him. It slowly came up the length of his body then came to rest on his chest. He softly moaned in his sleep. Its response was a rough sandpaper lick on the chin. Sam opened his eyes quickly only to find a Siamese kitten sitting on his chest. He grinned, raised his hand and gently petted the kitten. In response to the love it received, the kitten began kneading Sam's chest. Feeling the prickling sensation from it's claws, Sam held a quick breath then placed the kitten on the blanket beside him. The kitten hesitated, but slowly climbed back upon his chest. "Stubborn little cuss." He muttered as he placed it to the side again and turned back over on his side. The kitten, however, wouldn't be dismissed. It walked around Sam's feet and made its way up the length of his body again. Sam could feel it move slowly and methodically. The movement stopped. Curious, Sam opened his eyes. He looked directly into the eyes of the furball. Knowing now that he wasn't going to get any sleep with it around, he began petting it again. He thought about last night as he petted the kitten. He stayed over at Margaret's until eleven thirty trying to calm her down, explaining things, and trying to stop her from drinking alcohol. He found out that when things got rough, she would have small glasses of whiskey to calm her. Last night, she tried to drink three full tumblers but he triumphantly poured two down the drain. He sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard as he yawned. He pushed back sleep and the covers away. He placed the kitten on the floor, stood and walked over to Jason's closet to find something to wear. He stood at the closet deciding when the door to his room opened quickly. Kathy stopped where she stood. What she saw turned her face three colors of red but she still couldn't move. "Wh . . . when did you decide to sleep in the nude?" A smile slowly appeared to replace the awe. "Jeez, don't you knock?" He quickly picked up a nearby shoe and hurled it in her direction. She ducked and closed the door with a giggle. Sam covered his eyes and shook his head. His hand fell away from his face and he quickly picked out a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. With clothes in hand, he covered himself and rushed across the hall to the bathroom. Luckily, it was empty. He quickly showered and dressed himself. Just as he finished dressing, he heard Jason's mother call out, "Get it while it's hot!" Not remembering when the last time he had a good morning breakfast; Sam rushed into the kitchen only to see the sparkling eyes of Jason's little sister. He glared at her wondering if she had some kind of plan forming. Once everyone sat, Mr. Hughes gave the blessing. "Thank you Lord, for this day and for the meal that has been prepared for us. In Jesus name we pray, Amen." A chorus of amen's followed and all began to eat. As they ate, Kathy's sparkle hadn't diminished, in fact, it increased. "Mom," she began as an evil grin flashed on her face. "Jason's just started sleeping in the nude." Sam closed his eyes as both Mr. and Mrs. Hughes choked on their food. "Katherine Michelle!" Mrs. Hughes said as she controlled the coughing fit. "You don't discuss . . ." Cough, "Such topics at the table." Kathy wasn't going to give up that easily and Sam could tell that this was leading somewhere -- but to where he didn't know. "I just thought that you ought to know. I'd just hate it if you caught him naked in his room." "Katherine, you heard your mother." David Hughes replied hotly as he pointed his fork at her. "Gosh, I mention something I think is important and you gripe me out for it and he gets off scot free for coming home late? It's not fair." She finally got out what she wanted to say - anything to get back at her brother for the other day. "Late?" Sarah questioned as her eyebrow arched. "Exactly how late were you, Jason?" Sam grimaced. Curfew. "It was around eleven forty-five when I got home." "Eleven forty-five?" David looked at his son disapprovingly. "That's over an hour late on a school night. Why?" Sam placed his fork down so he wouldn't play with his food while he talked. "Well, I went to Margaret's last night to practice on our lines for the play. We started talking about things and we never got around to practicing." "I bet you did." Kathy remarked slyly. "You probably were necking." She grinned mischievously. "Katherine!" Sarah warned her daughter, then turned back to her son frowning. "Talked about things, what things?" Suddenly, Sam found himself babbling not quite sure of what he was saying but he found that it was working what ever it was. "We were talking, you know, getting to know each other better, then she decided that she would hang Bobby's picture underneath her family's memorial. Next thing I know, she's crying. I tried to calm her down but she said that she needed something else to calm her down -- alcohol. I spent at least two hours trying to talk her out of drinking two more glasses of whiskey." He looked at Kathy and her face fell. He rose from his chair and threw the clothe napkin down on the table. "So, if you're going to punish me for helping a friend from being in a drunken stupor, then go ahead." Without excusing himself, he walked away from the table and went to his room. Sam sat down on the bed flustered only to wonder what had just happened. It was as if Jason took over in that critical moment. Whatever it was, he was grateful. A knock sounded on the door and he looked up to see Sarah and David Hughes with apologetic faces. "We're sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you Jason." Sarah said as she went to her son. She sat on the bed as Sam moved his feet. Sam nodded his head understanding. "It's all right. I shouldn't have snapped at you either." David went to his son and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Remember when we made that pact about drinking last year? We said that whatever happens that if you've been drinking, you won't drive, and that you'll call home and we'll come get you or you could stay at a friends house as long as you call? Remember?" Sam nodded knowing that Jason would remember. "Lets do this -- if you have to stay out past curfew for any reason, we want you to call us and let us know why and when you'll be in. Okay?" "Okay dad." Sam knew Jason had good parents. They cared for him enough to sit down and talk to him. Sam knew he had to somehow make things cheery again. "As long as I do, can I get a lock for my door to protect myself from Kathy?" David and Sarah smiled in response then they retreated back toward the dinner table to finish breakfast. He heard David ask Kathy how she knew he had come in so late, and grinned as she began to stutter. He caught her in her own web. "Gotcha." He said under his breath as he lay back on his bed. * * * March 26, 1996 Throughout school, Sam looked for Margaret, but hadn't found her. He also wondered where Al was. He should have contacted him again. In most leaps, Ziggy came up with new information every couple of hours. By lunch time, he worried that something was wrong with Ziggy. "Where were you last night?" Sam looked up expecting Al, but saw Billy. "At Margaret's house. Why?" "I tried calling you last night. Are you really going to ask her to prom?" Billy's face looked awed at the notion. "Why? What is it to you?" Sam questioned cautiously not understanding why he shouldn't ask her. He didn't see why it would matter to anyone but himself and her. "Look, it's your rep. I mean, I'd hate to see you tarnished because of some dare." Billy took a huge bite from his hamburger and chomped on it. He looked at the other guys who sat with him. They nodded in agreement. "Tarnished? What's so wrong with Margaret?" A chuckle ran through the group. "Come on, man. If you date her -- you'll be next in line for the grave." One remarked as he sat down his drink. "You date her and you better go ahead and start a-diggin'." Floored by the comments that kept coming, Sam didn't want to hear the biting comments about a young lady he knew was good at heart. He couldn't understand why they were being so harsh toward her. "Guys can be such jerks," came a raspy reply from beside him. "Al." Sam said relieved that he was back. "What?" Billy asked as he took another bite of his hamburger. "A'll take that into consideration." Sam pushed back his chair and stood. "See you later." He walked away from the group shaking his head. "Where have you been?" "Working." Al responded nonchalantly as he walked by his friend. "Where are we going?" "Outside." Al followed Sam to a secluded area of the court yard. "Well?" "Ziggy says that there's a ninety-two percent probability that Margaret was murdered." Al said as he pulled out the handlink from his pocket. "Murdered? I thought she committed suicide." "Well, so did everyone, until Ziggy took a better look at the sketch they found with the note. Ziggy found a footprint made by a tennis shoe in the top left hand corner of the sketch. That's the only thing that we've come up with. Jason can't think of anyone who is capable of doing such a thing." Sam shook his head as he ran his hand over his mouth. "Can you believe those guys?" He motioned back inside. "Yeah. High school's based on reputations and who you know and what group you are in. Margaret's considered a nerd. A nerd who leads people to their deaths." Al said as he read the data that Jason told Ziggy within the past three hours. "I can't believe it Al. She's a nice, sweet, caring person. I can't imagine how she must feel about this." "She doesn't." "What?" "Jason told me that when teens get labeled, they don't know it until it's too late, or until someone gets mad at you and tells you how your labeled. It's just how it goes." Al shrugged. "I don't like it either but think about it. When you were in high school -- what were you?" "I was me." Sam said simply as he looked across the courtyard. Al dropped the conversation. He knew he could never get Sam to admit the fact that fellow students called him a nerd. He sighed as he looked at a point beyond Sam. "What?" He nodded at something someone had said. "Okay." "What is it, Al?" Al didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Sam stumbled backward as his body appeared behind Al. Jason looked at himself with the same awe but both quickly recovered. "Dr. Beckett, this is amazing." Jason said with deep admiration. Surprised to hear his own voice, Sam looked at Al for a moment before he could focus back on himself. He sighed and ran his hand over his mouth. "Jason." "Look, I know this is against the rules, but I needed . . . no, I had to talk to you. Al told me everything about the project and well, can I be frank?" Sam nodded as he glanced at Al. Wasn't it Al who said that he couldn't tell Margaret about Quantum Leap even after Margaret found out who they were? "Dr. Beckett, I fell in love with Margaret this year. I don't want her to die. I don't care what you have to do, but please, please don't let her die." "I'll try, Jason." Sam replied. Jason nodded understandingly and swallowed not sure what he wanted to say next. He shifted his weight from side to side and looked down at his hand on Al's shoulder. "I heard what you were talking about -- about Margaret's rep and all. I don't care about that. Everyone is wrong about her. This whole school is on a rep kick -- who you go out with makes you or break you. I don't care. I honestly don't care. What I do care about is Maggie. Although I haven't told her, I'm crazy about her." Jason fell silent again. He glanced quickly around the courtyard then his gaze went back to Sam. "Look, ah . . . if you can't save her, I'll understand. Do whatever you have to, but whatever happens . . ." Jason looked directly into Sam's eyes and sincerely said, ". . . thank you." He let go of Al's shoulder and vanished. Sam stood there for a moment not knowing how to take Jason's comment. Thank you: those words never spoken to him before during a leap in which someone knew what was going on other than Al and himself. He silently leaned on the brick wall and watched as Al pushed the button to open the door. "I'll persuade Ziggy to work harder on trying to find more data on the murder." He stepped through the threshold but stopped before closing the door. He looked back at Sam knowing he needed to explain his actions -- for being a hypocrite and for what just happened. "I thought he should know since he . . . he loves her." He shrugged his shoulders not knowing what else to say. "Al?" Sam asked as Al eyed him warily. "I haven't seen Margaret all day, where is she?" Al consulted Ziggy. "She's," he frowned. "She's at home." "Home?" "She's fine though." "Could you check on her? She wasn't in too good of shape last night." Al nodded. Sam could tell that Al wanted to talk to him about what just happened. Knowing that Sam didn't want to talk about the incident; he grimaced and hit the buttons on the handlink to send him to Margaret. With a quick wave, Al vanished. Sam straightened up and began walking back toward the cafeteria doors. As he walked, he considered Jason's request. "I'll try."