Date: Thu, 18 Jul 1996 13:29:03 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Theresa - Chap 2 Message-ID: Chapter 2 A New Assignment Sam knew he would neve get used to it. That was one of the fundamental truths about Quantum Leaping: you never get use to it. He never knew where or when he would arrive. Yet when he did, there always was a pattern: he leaps in and tries to find out as much as he can, Al appears and tells him what he has to do, Sam does it and leaps, and the cycle starts all over again. It was the different things that he had to do that made Quantum Leaping unpredictable. It could be as easy as saving a kitten from a tree or as difficult as saving an entire platoon of troops. As he arrived at his destination, he wondered what he would have to do in this leap. Before Sam could gain his bearings on who, where, and when he was, a hand slapped him hard on the back, causing the wind to be knocked out of him. "Come on, buddy," a man told him. "Are you just going to sit there or are you coming?" Sam noticed the speaker was a man dressed in khaki-colored dress pants, a white dress shirt, with a brown tie and a navy blazer. Something about the man's dress told Sam he was sometime in the late 1980s. The man had blond, straight hair that looked as if it had just been cut. He was extremely fair-skinned and had contrasting brown and gray eyes which, although they disagreed with one another, Sam could tell he was born with. "Where are we going?" Sam asked the man. The man's brow furrowed. "The same place we go everyday," he told Sam. "Think, Chris! The Olive Room!" Sam smiled. "The Olive Room. Of course." *Whatever that is*, Sam thought. *Well, at least I know my name.* "Remember," the man told him as he pulled Sam's chair from his desk. "Today, I drive you pay. Right?" The man began to push the chair towards the door before Sam could get out. The man was laughing at what he had just said. *Oh, boy! I'm in a wheelchair!* Sam looked down at the chair in which he was sitting. The man mistook the intention of Sam's gaze. "Do you want to push yourself?" he asked in a friendly voice. "It's okay with me, if you do." Sam shook his head. "No, this is fine. Thanks." "Thinking about the accident again, huh?" the man asked with an understanding voice. "It's been over a year. I thought you'd be over it by now. But I suppose no one gets over something like that. Losing your family like that." "No, I suppose not," Sam answered. *Something terrible happened in Chris' life. An accident which took his family from him.* "Well, enough moping around, you hear? Jeff Sterling and Chris Raj-ad-Allah are going to lunch and are going to spend the rest of the day off." Jeff turned to the secretary as he left. "Jennifer, we'll be taking the rest of the day off. You can go home if you want but warn someone before you do." "Thank you, Mr. Sterling," Jennifer replied with a smile. Jeff smiled back as he pushed Sam out into the hallway. Sam hoped that Al would appear soon because, it was quite apparent to Sam, he was definitely going to need him for this leap. ********************************************* "Good morning," Al told Theresa as she stepped out of the bedroom. "Or rather afternoon. It's twelve-eleven." "I'm sorry," Theresa told him. "I didn't realize I slept so late. I'll just dress and leave." She went to the living room and grabbed her clothes which Al had washed for her. "I think that maybe you'd rather wear this," he told her, pointing out a clothes bag which laidover the couch. Theresa was hesitant. "Go ahead," he beckoned. "Open it." Theresa did as she was told and stepped back in slight shock. "We can always exchange it if you don't like it," Al said. In the bag was a beautiful white ladies' dress suit with shoes to match. Also included were undergarments, nylons, a brush and comb, and earrings and a necklace. "Oh, this is too much!" she exclaimed in surprise. "I could never accept this!" "Do you like it?" "I love it! But..." "Then that's that. Go try them on," Al smiled. Theresa stared back at Al in disbelief. "Go on!" he told her. "No one gets anything for nothing," she told him. "What's your game? "You're right," Al answered. "There is a price. I want you to stay here until you can get yourself off the streets. In exchange, I'll help you." Theresa shook her head. "That doesn't make sense! What do you get out of this?" "The truth? Absolutely nothing but a clear conscience and your company, which, believe me, is a lot." "I don't know," Theresa started. "Do you want to stay on the streets for the rest of your life?" Al pointed out. "Of course, I don't," Theresa answered. "Then why don't you try the dress on and we just might go out for a late breakfast," Al smiled. Theresa shook her head. "Who are you?" she asked with a slight grin. Al ushered her to the guest bedroom. "Go on. Daylight's wasting." Theresa dutifully entered the bedroom with the dress to change clothes. While she was in the bedroom, the viewphone chirped for Al's attention. Al sat before the viewscreen before answering. "What is it, Gushie?" Al asked, seeing the face of Dr. Gushie F. Conelf on the screen. "Dr. Beckett has arrived at a destination. Dr. Beeks is wondering why you are not here yet," said the Project programmer. Al sighed. "How urgently does she need me?" "I'm not sure," the computer programmer answered. "But it's definitely been over an hour since she entered the Waiting Room." "I'll be there as soon as I can," Al told him calmly before disconnecting the line. He stood up, went into his bedroom, and came out with a silver jacket just as Theresa came out in the white suit. Al smiled, looking at Theresa. "It couldn't have fit you better." Theresa smiled back. She would have been a sight to behold if the paint on her face had been more faded than it was. "There's been a change of plans," Al told her. "Come on." He extended his hand. "Where are we going?" Theresa asked, taking his hand. "To see some friends." Al brought the Ferrari to a halt in the parking garage hidden by the mountain. What he was about to do was against the rules but he could see lingering doubts in Theresa's eyes. It was still either one big dream or one big hoax to her. And Al couldn't blame her. He was still trying to figure out how she could possibly remember him so clearly. Maybe the big hoax was on him. He needed answers and the only person he knew he could turn to was Verbina Beeks. She was the Project psychiatrist; she might be able to explain everything to both Al and Theresa. She had a wonderful way with words. "Admiral Calavicci, you know the rules!" Verbina told him as he entered the Control Room with Theresa. "No unauthorized personnel are allowed." There was a bite in her voice. *Definitely a wonderful way with words*, Al thought as she finished speaking. "Yes, I know the rules but I thought we might make an exception. Verbina Beeks, meet Theresa Brookner." He paused to see if Verbina reacted. Verbina responded by raising her hand to Theresa. The two shook hands after which she excused herself and Al. "Admiral, you're compromising the Project by bringing that girl down here!" "I need answers and I think you can give them," he told her. "You know I wouldn't bring anyone here unless I had a good reason." He took a breath. "I think she's the same Theresa I told you about." There was skepticism in Verbina's eyes. "She remembers me, Verbina. And Sam. I have no idea how or why but she remembers us. And I want to know how she could remember two days when she was four years old. "You want me to talk to the girl," Verbina concluded. "You could have asked me that over the phone." "You would have said no," Al pointed out. Verbina sighed. "Are you sure about her?" "I'm positive. I also want to know how she got to be a hooker in Albuquerque." "I was wondering why her make-up was so strong," Verbina muttered. "Okay, I'll do it. But what will you do if I prove that you're right about her by finding how she could remember you? You've still brought her into a top security clearance area _and you're the head of security!_" Al hesitated. "I'm going to take her to see Sam." "What!" she exclaimed loudly, accidentally catching Theresa's attention. She was standing near Gushie as he allowed her to examine Ziggy's control console. Verbina quieted herself when she noticed Theresa watching her and Al. Al waved to Theresa that it was okay while Verbina continued in a near whisper. "Al, are you crazy?" "If she really does remember me, then she's been ridiculed as crazy all her life. She deserves to know the truth." "And what if that truth leaks out to the press?" "I'll swear her to secrecy." Verbina huffed in response. Al glared at her. "She needs to know, Verbina. If she doesn't know then what will happen to her?" Verbina nodded. "Okay but I still don't like it." Al smiled slightly. "Don't worry. I'm right about this. I can feel it." He returned to Theresa's side and smiled at her. She was still looking at Ziggy's console. "So, what do you think?" "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "What is it?" A female voice cleared its throat. "I'll tell you later," Al told her while leering at a blue glowing ball hanging from the ceiling. His gaze returned to Theresa with a smile. "I've some business to take care of." His head turned. "Verbina, could you get Theresa something to eat?" "After last night's dinner, I'm not sure I can eat," Theresa commented with a smile as Verbina came up to her. "Then we can get better acquainted," Verbina told her. Theresa hesitated. "Go on," Al told her. "I'll be with you soon." Theresa obediently followed Verbina out of the Control Room. "I am not a THING!" a female voice complained once they had left. "Would you relax, Ziggy? It could have been worse," Al commented, taking a handlink from the console's surface. "She could have said you were ugly." "UGLY!" "Which you aren't," Al amended. "What do you have on Sam so far? And don't give me his vital statistics," he warned. She had done that to him before. "Dr. Beckett has leaped into Christopher Lynn Raj-ad-Allah, a thirty-five year old business man who works for a New York based lawyer's firm in the year nineteen ninety. In nineteen eighty-nine, he and his family were involves in a fatal automobile accident which left Christopher paralyzed from the waist down. He was the only survivor of the accident," the computer told him as he headed for the Imaging Chamber. "It is important to note that Christopher is of the Muslim faith. His last name means 'Allah's reign'." The Imaging Chamber door closed behind Al. The moment it did, it was as if Al was in a whole new world. People were sitting at tables, eating and talking with each other. The restaurant seemed to be very expensive to dine at. Al noticed all of these after noticing Sam sitting by a table with a blond- haired man. This was Al's chance to acquaint himself with how Sam looked this time. Although Al could easily tell who Sam was even with a different aura each time, he felt it helped him to acquaint himself as quickly as possible to Sam's new "look". Sam, or rather Chris' aura, was slightly tanned with black hair and brown eyes. He looked more European than Aryean. Al checked with Ziggy. Chris' mother was American. *That explains that.* Al listened in on the one-way conversation the blond man was having while the meal was being served. "I can't believe Matheson won't prosecute! He has every right to, you know. I would if someone pulled a knife on me." "I hope he wasn't hurt," Al commented. "Was he hurt? Sam asked. "You know he wasn't! But that's not the point, is it? That's still assault with a deadly weapon," he told Sam as a plate was put before Sam. A waiter walked through Al to place another plate before the blond man. Al looked at the food on Sam's plate with curiosity. "What is that?" "Salisbury steak," Sam answered. "Yeah," the blond man answered. "Doesn't it look great!" Al grimaced. "I don't eat steak. I thank my fourth wife for that. She used to cut my steak whenever we went out. Drove me nuts. Now, I can't look at a steak without thinking of her." "You know," Jeff spoke as he cut his steak, "this is probably the only place where you can get a vegetarian steak. Personally, Chris, I'd never be able to be a vegetarian." "I gues you've leaped into a vegetarian," Al commented. "How'd you know?" "Asked for the usual," Sam answered. "Well, you always ask for a vegetarian Salisbury steak. Did you want something else?" Jeff asked. "No, this is fine," Sam replied. Al looked around. "Sam, is there some place we could talk?" "Where's you're sense of humore today, Chris? You're taking everything so seriously." Sam grimaced slightly in fained pain. "I'm not feeling very well. Would you excuse me?" "Yeah. Sure," Jeff replied as Sam rolled away from the table. As Sam pulled away, Al lifted the handlink and pressed a button, knowing where Sam was going. He disappeared. Al was waiting in the Gentlemen's Lounge when Sam pushed the wheelchair into the room. "I think you're in the wrong room," Sam teased. "This is the _Gentlemen's_ Lounge." "Very funny, Sam," Al replied drily. "What have you got?" Al took the handlink and began pressing buttons. "Your name is Christopher Lynn Raj-ad-Allah, which means..." "'Allah's reign'," Sam finished. He stopped. "How'd I know that?" "You have a doctorate in Ancient Languages, Sam, and Arabic is a very old language. Now, you're a lawyer working for Stevens and Sterling Law Firm, a small firm based on Manhattan Island. Your partner..." "Jeff Sterling," Sam replied. "Right. He's the nephew of the founder of Stevens and Sterling, a Joseph..." Al hit the handlink, trying to force the screen to give Al the information. The handlink squeeled in complaint. "...Jospeh Charles Sterling. Jeff is Joseph's only living relative which makes him heir to Joseph's entire estate, a fact the police don't ignore when Joseph is..." Al hesitated, a look of confusion on his face as he stared at the handlink. He hit the handlink with his palm, causing the handlink to squeel in complaint again. "... WAS found murdered just an hour ago." "No," Sam stated. "Jeff didn't kill his uncle! He was with me for the past hour and a half!" "You're right, Sam. But in just a few minuites, the police are going to come and take jeff to identify his uncle and to question him. Jeff becomes extremely traumatized by his uncle's death and by the police's lack to find an immediate suspect. So..." Al stopped and closed his eyes. "So?" Sam prompted. "He takes a long walk off of a short, high roof," Al finished solemnly. ------------------------------- Chapter 3 should be posted next Tuesday so stay tuned. Kat Freymuth