From: Sean Smith X-From: rkwong@engin.umich.edu (Roberta Chi-Woon Kwong) Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative,alt.ql.creative Subject: "Quanta" part 13/17 Date: 27 Apr 1995 10:55:39 GMT Message-Id: <3nnt7b$iri@srvr1.engin.umich.edu> This is being posted for Sean Smith , who is having some difficulty posting from his account. Please direct all comments to him. Apologies if any line noise remains in these posts. A bit of re-formatting has been done to make the line length acceptable to my news system, but the actual text remains untouched. Smartquotes have also been converted to regular ones. -------------------------------------------------- Fox knew this was not some post-binge hangover. He'd shuffled through enough of those to know the difference. His stomach was not the least bit leaden, nor was his headache pounding. Instead his temples seemed caught in an iron grip, and his whole body burned. Before he had fully awaken, his mind was trying to sort out just when and where it was. Like a young puppy, it latched onto the first thing it could, and held on tight. And that was the sweet, soft voice of a woman, a dark susurrus in it's dreams. And slowly Fox regained consciousness, and stared into a woman's face. "Fox? It's me Fox. It's Donna." She adjusted the IV drip leading to the back of his left hand, and again swabbed his forehead to cool his raging fever. "Dana? I thought that was you in my apartment. You...had me worried there. I could have sworn you were dead." Mulder's speech was blurred and erratic. He could barely keep his eyes open. Donna felt like crying. The man strapped down to a bed in the back of a jet had only a vague notion of where he was. She wanted to douse him in ice, to try and restrict the temperature, but Ziggy was more worried about further shocking his system. The fever was nowhere near dangerous, just high enough to keep her worried while the plane sped through the darkened skies, trying to outrun the rising sun. It was not long until it reached the Project, and Donna prayed that whatever they'd learned was enou gh to justify the kind of hell Fox was living through. "Doctor Alisee, we have to talk." Ziggy's voice sounded tinny through the small speaker in her bracelet. Donna stroked Fox's hair briefly before moving forward, away from the pallet where he drifted in and out of sleep. "Okay Ziggy, did you figure out what's going on?" Donna was tired, and it showed as she dropped bonelessly into one of the soft chairs in the lounge area of the aircraft. "Perhaps, Doctor, although there is a large margin of error. Agent Mulder's files contain apocryphal references to multiple government conspiracies and cover-ups. For a number of reasons I cannot reliably predict the cause of the problems in the past." "What are you saying?" Dr. Alisee pushed stray locks of her hair back from her face, too tired to follow Ziggy's lecture. "Doctor, Agent Mulder compiled these files for a reason. A note left in them is Dated January 19, 1995 and addressed to Agent Dana Scully. It appears very clear that they were intended to be a starting basis for investigations after his own death. They are segments culled from other, classified documents, most of which I have never had access to. It would appear criminal for us to even possess these." "Should...should we be turning everything over to the authorities?" Donna was shocked. It seemed the air had left her chest, and she couldn't breath or think. "Hardly. Either Foxy is paranoid, which I doubt just a little bit, Doctor," the computer sounded sarcastic, "or the authorities are the problem. If anybody is operating a radium ring and accelerator in 1995, it was most like the United States Governme nt itself, running a secret project. Similar to us, Doctor Alisee." "But no one even theorized the mechanisms Sam used to create the Project before Sam. They couldn't possibly have created a Quantum Leap Accelerator." "Not exactly. They could have built the ring and accelerator assembly as early as 1994. But no one would have considered time travel, Doctor Alisee." "I don't get it." It was far too late for Donna to try and match wits with a supercomputer. She just wanted to curl up and sleep. "Nobody would. Or did. Agent Mulder believed that the government has been experimenting with advanced technologies for many years, and that it is the result of contact with extraterrestrial intelligences." "He believes in Flying Saucers?" Her hope sank with this thought. "Although this belief isn't exactly logical, it is backed by his observations. However, it is infinitely more likely that the government has simply concealed the existence of completely separate lines of research, decades ahead of civilian technology. The people chasing Agents Mulder and Scully are therefore Government Agents who detected Sam's Leap into Fox, and are trying to figure out why they picked up the signal from him." "Are you sure?" It sounded far fetched enough to Donna that she had to question the computer, exhausted or not. "Seventy-four percent likelihood. And don't complain about wanting better; I'm extrapolating from extrapolations. Tell Foxy he's got lousy handwriting." "Ziggy, nevermind his handwriting!" "Handwriting analysis is a very useful, although inexact method of personality inventory, Doctor. I think it's fun." For a computer, Ziggy could be an amazing trial. "So what does Sam need to do Leap out of 1995?" "I'm still unsure. It would appear Agent Scully is experiencing some difficulty, although Foxy should have been able to handle that on his own. I'm afraid none of my conflictory theories exceed thirty precent, Doctor, so I don't want to start randomly trying them. However, if we use Mulder's notes as a basis for exrapolations concerning another Project, we have a new option." "I'm almost afraid to ask, Ziggy." "There is a good chance that Foxy's idea, going after the other project directly, would work. If so, I will then be able to examine the history of their relationship, and project a likely course of action for Sam." "That's horrible. Ziggy, Sam can't do that!" Alisee tried to speak softly into her bracelet, so as not to wake Mulder. "It is the best option, and it would appear Mulder is running out of time for us to experiment. Besides, there is no reason to expect a larger staff than at Project Quantum Leap. Similarly, it is unlikely anyone knows who he is besides the goons following him around." "So you're sure there are no more Evil Leapers?" "Seventy-eight percent sure, Doctor Alisee." * * * Sam held his sodden Navy jacket over his head with one hand as he ran, in a futile attempt to fend the rain off. Under the other arm, he had a rain spotted white bag, which he was trying to carry from the car to the small hotel room he'd found in Tracy. Tracy was a small community located in the middle of nowhere, somewhere between San Francisco and Sacramento. The quiet town was the first place Sam could find for Dana, and it had taken some effort to get her firmly installed in one of the stucco motel s just off the main street. Now, he was returning with dinner, and hoped that they would have time to talk. Dripping wet, Sam managed to find shelter under the building's overhang, and shook water from his hair. He stuck the jacket collar in his mouth, and tasted wet wool. The bag of food balanced in one hand, he fished around in his pocket for the keys to the room with the other. The pants were tight, the denim wet, his hand was cold, and Sam was having a hard time reaching his keys. He was standing in front of the outside door to Dana's room in this silly position when the slick brown door opened a crack. Half of Scully's pale face came into view, and for a moment, she smiled at the sight he made. Then the door closed, and he hear d the rattling of the chain on the other side. Then she open the door, and stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Sam laid his jacket on the small table by the door, and started unloading the bag of food. Still shivering, he turned to check on Dana while he worked. Her hair was wet from the shower he'd left her in, and the towel was slung about her shoulders. She'd changed into a soft pair of sweat shorts and a dark low-necked woman's tee-shirt, her wet clothes tossed in a corner. She followed his gaze over to where her clothing was piled, and laughed softly. "I guess it's time for me to be the messy one of us, right Mulder?" Sam smiled, not really knowing what to say. She walked across the thick carpeting to him and took over the job of laying out the food he'd brought back. She looked up at him, and smiled guiltily. "I'm okay Mulder. The accident just shook me up, that's all. Now let me get the food while you change." He opened her mouth to argue, but she smacked his arm gently with the back of her hand. "Shoo, you're dripping on my coffee." "Alright, I'm beat." Sam threw his hands in the air and shuffled into the bathroom, his bag in hand. The white, tiled room was stuffy from the humidity, and the mirror hazy with condensation. Sam worked at stripping off wet clothes that adhered to him, and dropped them in a ball on the counter. He sorted through the bag, and pulled out a second pair of jeans, these black. He put them on, and looked up to see Al walk through the bathroom door. "Gah! Al, do you want to scare me to death?" Sam glared at him as he pulled a fluffy white towel from a shelf and dried his hair with it. "What can I say Sam?" Al didn't seem too apologetic as he pulled on his cigar, a smile on his face. "Sorry would be nice." Beckett slipped into a button down gray shirt a size too large for him, and began fastening the small tortoiseshell buttons. "Okay, 'Sorry would be nice.' Happy now? "How's the Leap going?" Al kept one hand in his pocket as he spoke. "Terrible. You have no idea." Sam didn't look up from his buttons. "Oh, that's not true. I know how hard it is to share a hotel room with a gorgeous redhead." Al raised an eyebrow at Sam, still smiling. He stayed like that until Sam looked up to see him. "I've got a room next door, thank you. And things aren't going well. We nearly got in a car accident, and Dana flashed back to her kidnapping. She damn near laid me out, Al." "Yeah, that fits with the files we got off Mulder. These two have been pretty banged up. A lot of hospital stays in two years, that kind of thing." Sam winced. "Yeah, Sam, lots of fun. Anyway, most of their work is started by confidential informants . Lots of back alley stuff. Some of the stuff in there, _I'm_ not cleared to see. Pretty spooky." Al wiggled his fingers in the air. "Those hospital stays must have something to do with the way Dana's been acting. There's a lot of problems she could be having." "That's nice, Sam." Al began to say more, but Sam cut him off. "Listen, Al, I'm not going to Sacramento anymore. I guess I finally realized that I _am_ here for a reason, and that young woman in there needs somebody. I don't know if Fox backed off from her too fast, or if he got to close to her, but that's got to be why I'm here, Al. I can't go running off on her. She needs me, and I can't leave her just because I want something else." The lines around Beckett's mouth deepened as he spoke. "Sam, I-" Al tried to speak again. "No Al, I have to say I'm sorry. I got angry with you and I shouldn't have. This whole leap has me, I don't know, confused. And it's selfish of me to head out like that." "Sam, can I say something?" "Of course." Sam leaned against the vanity, his hands behind him. "Good. Now, that was a nice speech Sam, but it looks to Ziggy like you _do_ have to get your butt over to that facility in Sacramento after all." Al saw the shock on his friend's face, and shrugged. "I'm sorry Sam, we just keep trying to come up with something. And this is it. We think." He smiled sickly. "You've got to be kidding. I've got a woman out there who needs somebody right now, okay?" "Yeah, her partner Fox." The argument was interrupted by Dana's voice drifting in through the closed door. "How many clothes do you need to put on, Mulder?" Sam called out to her, "I'll be right out!" He turned to Al. "Look Sam, go out there and try to patch everything up. She needs it." Al's eyes were downcast. "But if after everyhing you do, you still haven't Leaped, get going." "Why?" Sam bent to look Al right in the face. "Because somebody already wiped Fox's memories, and after this leap, he's getting sick. Ziggy gives him another twenty-four hours. Tops, Sam." * * * Al walked out of the Imaging Chamber, his shoes ringing softly on the polished granite floor of the Control Room. He walked over to the main table, and set his handlink down. It was late enough that nearly all Project personnel had gone to bed for the night. He leaned over the table rubbing his eyes. The cigar smoke had begun to burn them, a sure sign he was fatigued. He remembered all the lectures he'd received back in flight school, years before. They said that fatigue was a soldier's worst enemy, that his mistakes would compound, multiplying around him, eventually burying him. But as much as he would like to sleep, he had to stay up in case anything more came in for Sam. This whole Leap was confused and nonsensical, and if even one good hard fact could be found, Al had to be ready to pitch in. "Admiral, go to bed." Ziggy seemed almost polite. Al looked up at the glowing computer. "With you, honey, or just anyone in general?" He managed a good approximation of a leer. "Promises, promises. But you'd better get some rest, or else nothing is going to be staying up tonight. Sir." If the Ziggy could have smiled, she would have. "_That_, Ziggy, has never been a problem with the Calavicci's." "And I'm sure your wives have been thrilled about it." Al laughed briefly. He traced a thoughtful finger about the surface of the control panel, his eyes clouded. "Are you totally sure this is what we should be sending Sam to do? To go spy on some 'enemy' facility? It just isn't like him." He let the smoke from his cigar wreath his face as he spoke into the darkness of the empty room. "Admiral, I'm not even remotely sure. This just fits all the data, and it's the only solution I can think of. Besides, he most likely Leaped into Agent Mulder's life to change his relationship with his partner. Foxy doesn't seem too skilled at dealing with interpersonal relationship, psychology degree or not." "So?" "If we leave Dr. Beckett alone with Dana Scully long enough, his infamous instincts may solve our problem for us. He has proven an excellent judge of character in the past." "It's kind of a long shot, Ziggy. Anyway, maybe I should sleep. Just let me know if you hear anything, or when Fox gets back." "Too late. He arrived a few minutes ago, and is firmly ensconced in the Waiting Room." "Why didn't you tell me?" "You wouldn't have gone to sleep then." "Ziggy, I'll be in with Mulder. Get to work on his files. Again." With that Al headed out of the Control Room, leaving Ziggy alone. "See what I mean? It's difficult being the brightest one around, sometimes." * * * Sam walked out of the bathroom and set the half-empty sportsbag on the dresser below a mirror. Dana was sitting on the bed, her back against the wall, eating her hamburger and watching the television. Quietly, Sam grabbed his food, and pulled one of the straight-backed chairs up to the edge of the bed. While he unwrapped the foil from his food, he watched his partner flipping from one news program to another. "Mulder, that whole incident in Davis, it isn't being reported. No gushots, no chase through a park, nothing." She took a drink from her styrafoam cup. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly suprised." Sam looked at his food for a moment. "I was kind of surprised at the way you rode that bike, though." He smiled at her warmly. "I don't like jogging the way you do. My brother, Brian, he was hell on wheels as a kid. I just sort of picked up some of the tricks." "Like hopping off a moving bike?" "At least I didn't do it off a motorcycle." When she saw Sam's shocked look, she grinned. "I'm not saying I have, Mulder. I'm just saying that it could happen" They both laughed. Enjoying themselves for the moment, both ate quietly. Sam looked up as he ate, at the young Fedral agent sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pillow on her lap. Her wet hair trailed in aunurn ringlets about her face, and left near-black spots upon the soft fabric of her deep forest green shirt. Her small feet were clad in fuzzy ankle socks, and when she wiped the ketchup from her lips, Sam realized that her nails were short and unpainted. For all the world she looked like a fresh faced college student. The transitions she had gone through, the many roles she played in the course of the last day, echoed his own leaps into and out of others' lives. Sam understood how much that alone must have cost her. He admired the stubborn determination that seemed to drive her through any situation. Unfortunately, he realized that now he had to face that stubborness. "So, this has been quite an exciting vacation, right?" Sam smiled genially. He hoped subtlty would succeed where boldness feared to tread. "I'm surprised you'd bring that up. You know that I still want to know what all this is about." He looked down at his dirty shoes, suddenly embarassed. "I take that to mean that this isn't going to lead to a startling revelation, Mulder?" His head popped up, a thoughtful smile on his face. "Okay, you got me. I guess I should have said something before." He paused, gauging the effect of his words. "I found out there's an instellation testing some speciallized equipment up in Sacramento. I don't think any of it's legal, but I can't prove anything. And those men...uh, they were trying to find out if we knew anything." He hoped this whole story would be just close enough to the truth to throw her off. "When they searched our rooms! I had typed up a report detailing your ELF hypothesis. That must have triggered this chase!" "Elf?" His brow wrinkled, and he tried to picture J. R. Tolkien characters in black business suits. Before he could say any more, he noticed that Scully was eying him dangerously, leaning forward on her pillow. "Mulder, that means you knew about all this back in Washington. And that tomato case you'd alredy solved, and dragging me on vacation, right?" She didn't let him answer. "Were you _planning_, days in advance, to ditch me somewhere, while you ran off to check out a potentially dangerous theory?" If he tried very hard to ignore the color of her cheeks, he could imagine she was completely calm. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?" "No, no, not at all. I thought there was nothing to what I'd heard. I figured we'd be done with everything, and then I could take you down to San Francisco to see your brother." He was speaking rapidly, and thinking faster. Their eyes met, and Sam realized his error. "My _brother_? How could you have known about him? You didn't meet him until..." Her eyes went unfocused, and she gasped faintly as the last pieces fell into place. "You went behind my back! You planned a ll this with Brian and Tatya?" "No, no...I was, uh..." He was looking about franticlly casting about for a way out as the trap slammed closed. That was how he caught her pillow squarely in the face. "Hey! I-" She pulled the second pillow from the bed covers and smacked him across the chest with it. "I can't believe you did that!" She caught him again, this time with a wicked backhand. "Dana! Stop, Right now!" Sam held out a hand to stop her, holding her by one shoulder. She simply hit him over the head. They glared at one another, and Sam tried to hold her at arms length, but the pillow evened the score. Sam's damp hair stuck out in all directions from his head, and his lips were tight with his eternal suffering. He raised his arms to ward off the nex t series of blows. He looked up, past his out spread fingers, and realized Scully was laughing. She knelt on the bed, grinning like a maniac, her tee-shirt sliped over one shoulder while she pummeled him with her pillow. Desperate, Sam clawed at the pillow resting on his feet. His left hand snagged a corner of its cheap white pillowcase, and he whipped it up and around. Dana had her pillow raised over her left shoulder, like a batter at the plate. Sam's pillow caught her expertly in the middle, and bounced her back onto the bed. Beckett stood, and Dana came to her feet on the bed, still barely taller than he. They began trading blows, their pillows mostly hitting one another. When Sam brought a pillow down to whap Dana on the head, she bounced on the bed toward the wall, and caught his pillow one-armed against her shoulder. Sam was shocked at this complete breach of pillow-figting protocol. Nonetheless, when she tried to sw ing her pillow at him, he gamely turned the tables, and grabbed it out of the air. Ever adept at negotiating and interpersonal dynamics, Sam stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed, and planted one foot against his leg, dragging down to the bed. He le t go of her pillow as he broke his fall with his arms. This gave her an excellent chance to bring the pillow down on his face. "Alright, alright, I give up! You win!" Sam threw his hands over his head laughing between breaths. Dana dropped back against the other side of the bed, laughing. Her pillow hung from her hands, resting on her knees as she leaned against the headboard. "Oh, I needed that." She shook her head as she pushed herself upright along the headboard.She was flushed with exertion and smiling. It hit Sam just how young this doctor was, and he shook his head silently. "What's the matter Mulder, did I break something up there?" "No, it's just you suddenly looked so young." He didn't even bother trying to conceal his thoughts. "Having another attack of impending old age? Funny, I never pictured you an old man." The smile didn't leave her voice as she brushed hair away from her face. "No, it just seems like all this," Sam waved his hand in the air as he rolled over onto his back. "is a lot to leap into so young. You seem so much older than I, that I can easily forget it sometimes." "Lovely. 'When was your age, I never played with mutants.'" She deepened her voice, a twinkle in her eye. "Of course I did. They were usually writing their thesis papers." They shared a good laugh. It wasn't that funny, but both were tired enough for it to catalyze their relief. * * * When the door to the Waiting Room rose before Al, he knew that Fox was as lousy a patient as he was. Despite the padding and blankets adorning the bed he was using, he was sitting upright, fidling with the IV line leading into his left hand. He looked like he needed a shave, shower, and uninterrupted week of sleep, and yet he was animatedly arguing with Verbena to let him up and into the control room. His rumpled shirt was open at the neck, revealing the white body suit underneath. Al decided to interrupt before they really got the ball rolling. "Hi there boys and girls. Are we all playing well together?" He did his best smiling father routine, despite his lack of a cigar. He'd decided to leave it behind for Fox's sake. "I can't get her to let me into the Control Room." He gestured weakly at 'Bena. "Beacause he passed out four hours ago, and only came around just now." She raised her eybrows pointedly. "Some people call it sleep." She turned back to him. "Sure, Fox. When you aren't fevered and delusional." "Please don't call me Fox. And my head hurts too much to keep arguing." "Good, I win. Now lie down before I have Al over here whip your ass." Al looked at Verbena, surprised. Fox looked at Al, a lazy smile on his face. "If I can interject, you two." Al seemed the soul of compromise. "How about you, Fox, getting some rest. You need it. And you," he pointed at Dr. Beeks, "wake him up if things start happening. Agreed?" Both nodded, mollified. Fox lay back down, slowly trying to draw the covers up over himself. "Great, now I've got the two of you playing 'good timecop, bad timecop.'" His thin face showed the effort made in joking. Al gestured for Verbena to leave them alone for a moment, and busied himself straightening Mulder's blankets while she left. "Al." He turned, to find Mulder speaking with his bruised eyes closed. "Where's Dr. Alisee?" "She's out like a light. Seems somebody wore her out, running around in Washington." For a moment, the impression of Fox as some overgrown kid flashed through his mind, and he guessed it was a common impression. "Listen Fox..." Al was hesitant. He had to say this, but he was afraid he'd hurt Mulder. "When you went into la-la land back in Washington, Melissa left something with Donna for her to give to you." Fox's sleepy eyes opened, and he looked at Al, who shifted from foot to foot. "Ah, hell kid. She said that Dana wanted you to have this." He brought up his hand, from which a gold crucifix dangled on a slender chain. Mulder weakly brought his arm up, and al placed it in is hand. Fox held the cross up before his eyes, watching as it spun in the air. He remembered whose sleder throat it had always graced, and he remembered holding onto it when he'd lost her. When she was found again, he had returned it to her. He pulled his hand to his chest, and looked up at the aging Navy man standing quietly at his bedside. "Thanks Al. I...this means a lot to me." Mulder slowly closed his eyes. "Just remember, Mulder; she's okay." "She's okay Al. You're okay too." Mulder drifted off to sleep, the lines in his forhead finally relaxing. Al patted Fox's hands, a sad, familiar smile on his face. "You just rest, now. It'll all work out." He dimmed the lights further, and left the room slowly, pausing just inside the doors to watch over Fox's sleeping form. * * *