From: lurker@iglobal.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Subject: Third Time's A Charm (Part 1) Date: Sun, 25 Aug 1996 10:22:20 -0500 Message-ID: <19960825152219630.AAA148@denp1-14.iglobal.net> THIRD TIME'S A CHARM by Deb Parizek and Rhonda Hallstrom CONTINUITY: Kung Fu: the Legend Continues - between "Kung Fu Blues" and "Brotherhood of the Bell." Quantum Leap: between "Blood Moon" and "Return of the Evil Leaper." NOTE: Peter's Pathway experiences are courtesy of Jeanne DeVore and Signe Hovde in their excellent collection of stories in "Child of the Moving Tide." ***** Blue-white light surrounded him. He felt the wrench of being pulled out of time.... Sam blinked. *A male body,* was his first thought. *THANK you!!!* he thought gratefully. He really did not enjoy the leaps that made it necessary to inhabit a female. Looking around, he found he was alone in an office, seated behind a desk. That was a switch. Usually Sam leaped in at a time which was the most awkward for him to pick up the slack. He was wearing sunglasses and there was a computer in front of him. Looking down at "his" new body, he could tell that he was a thin, wiry man. Something was pinching him painfully under his arm. He opened his jacket and found a gun. *I hope I'm a cop,* Sam thought fervently. He was just about to reach for his wallet when the door burst open. An attractive, older blond woman stuck her head in. "KERMIT!" she barked, "I want that paperwork in 30 minutes and not a minute more!" *Kermit?* Sam thought. *That's my name--Kermit???* "Uhhh...." he stammered. "And," the blond woman continued, "I don't care if Blaisdell didn't think old mercenaries should subject themselves to paperwork. You may have noticed that I am not him." The door slammed behind her as if to punctuate her statement. "Paperwork," Sam muttered as he looked through the various papers. "It would really help if I knew which paperwork I was supposed to fill out!" The door opened again. Sam looked up to see a young man with a jovial smile lean inside. "Hey, Kermit," he said, "Do yourself a favor and avoid Captain Simms. She's on the warpath today." "I know," Sam told him. "Oh, I'm too late, I take it," he said, coming in. "C'mon, I'll take you to lunch." "Oh, uh...thanks but no thanks," Sam said. "The Captain needs some paperwork." "You're doing what the Captain tells you?" the young man asked incredulously. "You feeling okay?" Sam shrugged. "C'mon, the Captain won't mind if you eat." Against his better judgment, Sam allowed himself to be dragged out of the office. Now, all Sam could think about was *Where is Al??? He's usually here by now!* ***** Stallions Gate, New Mexico Project Quantum Leap "WHATTYDA MEAN, WE CAN'T FIND SAM!!!" Admiral Albert Calavicci was in fine voice as he screamed at the computer that, in his opinion, caused all this mess to begin with. "Admiral, raising your voice is totally unnecessary and is detrimental to your health," a smug, female voice told him. "Your blood press-" "HANG my blood pressure!" bellowed Al. "WHY can't you find Sam!?!?!" "As you know, Admiral," the female voice continued, "I cannot track Dr. Beckett without some sort of start as to where he is. The man that is currently in the waiting room refuses to give us any information, even his name. I may be the first known parallel hybrid computer with million gigabyte capacity but even I cannot search for Dr. Beckett when he could be anywhere at any time within the years of his existence." "Ziggy," Al told the computer, "if you can't find Sam, we can't help him make what went wrong right, he won't leap, he'll be stuck in time and we won't be able to talk to him!" "Admiral, why do you find it necessary to waste my time by stating the obvious facts that we all know?" "THAT does it!" Al snapped. "If you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself. *I* will talk to our visitor!" He strode to the waiting room, opened the door, and walked in. "Good luck," Dr. Verbeena Beeks said. "You're going to need it." ***** Sam had picked up a few more clues as to where and when he was. He found a local newspaper and gleaned most of the local information, as well as finding out the date: September 23, 1995. As always when he leaped into the 1990's, he had to quelch the temptation to call himself in New Mexico and ask to PLEASE work the bugs out of the system BEFORE leaping. The young man's name was Peter Caine and they both worked at the 101st precinct. Now, if Al would get his butt in gear, maybe he could find out what he was here to do and everything would be fine. IF Al would show up! Sam was beginning to get worried...and hot. Why did Kermit have to wear a navy wool-blend suit when it was 95 degrees out? He did appreciate the sunglasses, though. He picked at his lunch, listening to Peter go on about various women: Kelly, Jody, etc., etc. He did as he always did; pretend to know the people and try to make supportive comments. Just then, Peter slapped him on the forearm. "Hey, there's my dad! Dad! POP!" He stood up and waved the older man over. Sam studied the older man with interest, until he realized that Peter's father was looking at him rather oddly. Sam let his eyes drop to look down at himself. *Do I have ketchup on my face or something?* he thought as the older man came over. "Peter," the man said, by way of greeting, although he was still staring at Sam. Sam was beginning to get a sinking feeling. "Hey, sit down, Pop," Peter said. "C'mon, join us." He pulled up a third chair, grinning at his father. *His aura is not right,* Caine thought to himself, alarmed. *THAT is not Kermit!!!* He glanced at Peter. Obviously, Peter was distracted by something and could not see the visitor. *If his mind was at peace, he would be able to,* Caine thought critically and refocused his concentration back to Sam. Sam tried not to squirm under the intense gaze. *PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let him not know me,* Sam thought. "Kermit...." Caine said carefully, seating himself at the table. "Mr. Caine," Sam replied with a nod. He fixed his eyes on his lunch to avoid Caine's scrutiny. Caine had to know what was going on. Where was Kermit's essence? Was he all right? Who is this visitor? Caine could feel that this man meant no harm or evil, but if that was the case, how did he inhabit Kermit and why was he there? He wasted no time in thinking why he was the only one to notice--Caine often felt his special "vision" was both a curse and a gift. In this case, it was a gift. "Pop, are you listening to me?" "Yes, Peter," Caine replied. Sam tried not to jump. He would have sworn that Peter's father was not listening. There was definitely something wrong about Mr. Caine. Perhaps he was the person who needed his help. "So, you have any ideas for clues on these suicides?" Caine hesitated before replying, "There must be a link between them." Peter sagged. "I already knew that, Pop. Have YOU heard anything?" "I am sorry, my son. Usually, it is your preference that I not interfere. Peter, do they serve tea here?" Caine asked. "Sure, I think so," Peter replied. "I'll get you some." "Thank you," Caine said. As soon as Peter was out of earshot, Caine leaned close to Sam. Sam, apprehensive but curious, leaned in as well. Caine whispered, "I sense that you are a good soul, but I must know; is Kermit all right?" Sam's mouth flew open. "You can...?" Caine nodded, and looked toward his son as an indication that they did not have much time. "Yes," Sam said quickly. "He's fine." Peter hurried back to the table. "Sorry about the tea, Pop, but I gotta go. My beeper just went off." He gathered the remnants of his lunch and started toward the nearest trash can. "We'll catch you later, Pop," he said. Caine and Sam rose in unison. Caine placed his hand on the other man's forearm and whispered, "Come to Chinatown. Ask for Caine. I will help you." Sam nodded, then, trash in hand, followed Peter's wake. "Oh, boy," he muttered under his breath. ***** Stallions Gate, New Mexico Project Quantum Leap Admiral Al Calavicci stomped out of the waiting room. He was officially now very angry. He had come very close to breaking the rules in not telling the leapee anything about the project. He had told their "guest" everything he could, even to confiding that he could not be returned unless they had his name. The nozzle still refused to talk. Al then exploded with, "What about the Geneva convention?!" The visitor then replied, very coolly, that he had no rank, no serial number, then stated that, if they wanted his name that badly, then it was the LAST thing he intended to tell them. One look told Dr. Beeks that she had better not say she told him so. Gooshie, though, was notoriously bad at reading people's moods. "What do we do, Admiral?" Al took a deep breath. "You tell me, Gooshie," he said through clenched teeth. Gooshie, still oblivious to Al's anger, mused, "Well, we can scan everywhere at every single time--" "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!!" Al exploded. "That'll take forever!!!!" Dr. Beeks, ever the efficient psychiatrist, came over. "Why don't you let me try something," she asked gently. "I'm gonna try a blowtorch in a minute," mumbled Al. "Or hot tar. Or--" Dr. Beeks ignored him. "Ziggy," she said, "prime your physiological response readings. We're going to try some association tests." ***** Sam was now worried. He had been here for two hours and there was no sign of Al OR the person he was sent here to help. Peter and his father seemed so capable, they could probably move mountains if they wanted to, so they obviously didn't need his help. Why could Caine see him? The mentally impaired could see the truth but Caine seemed very much in control of his faculties. If Caine could see him, why couldn't Peter then, being father and son? "You can't think of anything, either?" Peter asked Sam, seeing his friend lost in thought as they entered the precinct after a short trip to the morgue for a briefing on the latest suicide from Nicky. "Uhh, no, not really," Sam answered. "Well," Peter said, "this case has me crazy. Do me a favor, willya? Warm up those computer circuits and see if YOU can find a correlation. I can't figure out the connection! NINE suicides in Chinatown-" "Another suicide, Peter," an attractive blond woman told Peter as he and Sam walked in. "File's on your desk." She left the squadroom. Peter half-heartedly waved as he continued the conversation, "-make that TEN suicides - ALL in Chinatown, in THREE days. The nine I've checked are all male but had nothing else in common....Maybe this new file will give me a hint." Sam stood there for a moment as Peter sat at his desk and opened the file before he realized he did have an office of his own. He turned and headed for it. Halfway there, the attractive older woman, whom he now assumed was Captain Simms, passed him, and muttered "Smart aleck." "Who, me?" Sam asked, regretting the words the instant he spoke them. Still speaking softly, Simms said, "I'll get you back, don't worry." "Promise?" Sam was horrified; that just slipped out. He must have more of Kermit's neurons than he thought. Fortunately, Simms kept going. The large, Marine-looking officer slapped him on the shoulder. "I gotta know...how'd you find out it was the Captain's birthday?" "Only the Shadow knows," was the only thing Sam could think of to say. "You just love living dangerously, don't you," the Marine-cop asked. The man looked faintly admiring and pitying at the same time. By now, Sam figured Kermit was somewhat of a rebel. "Danger is my life," he said blithely, not even knowing what he was talking about, as he stepped into his office. ***** Every nerve in her body screamed, tortured, as she was forced back into time. The red glow around her faded.... Alia blinked and looked around. Where was she this time? She saw uniformed police officers the very first thing and felt an instinctive fear reaction before she assessed who she was. She looked down at herself, saw the badge and gun, and had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. Carrying a gun was always a benefit to Lothos' mind. The last time Alia had leapt into someone with a gun, she found herself as a huntsman. She saw something in the bushes, was terrified that it was a wild animal and fired. It turned out that the huntsman was really a businessman on vacation and she had just shot his son, who was along for the ride. The businessman ended up by committing suicide with his own gun, his wife moved to her sister's and spent the rest of her life in misery, and four families became destitute because their funds were being handled in a deal by that businessman. Alia had gotten an A+ for that assignment. Why couldn't she be like Sam and help people instead of destroying them? It was rhetorical; she knew the only way to escape her bonds was to comply with their orders until finally she would win her freedom. She only hoped she wouldn't get in trouble again. She hadn't wanted to kill Sam and she didn't but she had paid dearly for her lapse in obedience. There WERE things worse than death. Speaking of which, any time now, Zoey will be locking on to her and.... "Hey!" Alia jumped. "What?" "Better quit daydreaming," a young, good-looking man warned her as he got some coffee from the coffee machine close to her desk. "Simms is not in a good mood, especially with Kermit's practical joke." "Right." Alia made a show of digging into the files on her desk till he left. She found "her" purse and took out the wallet. "Mary M. Skalany" was the name she saw on the documents. As she rummaged through the purse to get familiar with the woman, she heard the familiar door open, and inwardly winced. Zoey was the only person she knew who completely matched her voice and manner. She looked, acted, and sounded trashy - and took pleasure in that fact. Alia hated Zoey. "Darling!" the smarmy voice called. Alia froze her expression so she wouldn't look odd to the others who could see her but not Zoey. "How are you, darling?" the red-haired woman continued. Alia looked up and gave her a shrug, implying the meaning "What am I doing here?" Zoey looked around. "A police station!" she purred with delight. "This is perfect! So ripe with possibilities! Who is THAT, Darling???" she asked, as she paused in front of Peter's desk. She sat on the edge of the desk, leaned over and whispered, "Care to arrest me, handsome? You'd better do a strip search! I might be hiding something!" Peter blinked and looked up in surprise. He looked around the station; everything seemed to be in order. He thought he saw a flash of light or something....Shrugging slightly, he went back to the file. ***** "AL!!!!!" Sam exclaimed upon closing Kermit's office door. Mindful of those outside, he lowered his voice and hissed, "WHERE HAVE YOU-!" "Uh UH!!!" the Observer interrupted. "Do NOT start with 'where have I been' stuff! You know what we had to go through to find you!?! The...the...nozzle in the waiting room wouldn't give us an IOTA of information!" "Then how-" "Verbeena and Ziggy," Al told him. "We hadda show him pictures of history scenes and took psychological readings to see if he recognized them. He responded to the image of Challenger exploding so that narrowed our field quite a bit. But we found you." Al looked around. "So what is this nozzle's name, anyway?" he asked. "Kermit Griffin." "Kermit?!?" Al choked with laughter. "If I had that name, I wouldn't tell anybody, either!" "I think it's a nickname, Al. Why am I here?" Al was still having fun with the name. "Didn't anyone tell him it's not easy being green?" Sam looked quizzical and Al waved his cigar in disgust. "Never mind," he said. "I never learn - do NOT tell jokes to a person with a swiss-cheese memory!" "Al," Sam said, "look up any information about Peter Caine and his father. I don't know HIS name but he lives in Chinatown." "Terrific...make it easy for me," Al grumbled as he punched buttons. "Al...the father can SEE me!" "Well, of course he can-" Al stopped and stared at Sam as understanding dawned. "You mean, he can see you aren't you?" At Sam's nod, he said, "Ohhh, boy!" and punched buttons on the handlink furiously. That done, Al paced nervously, chewing on his cigar, while Sam seated himself at Kermit's desk and began accessing Kermit's computer setup, conscious of the possibility of outside observers. Ziggy beeped the handlink. Al began to read the output, summarizing some of it as he went along: "Okay...Caine, Peter Matthew, born August 23rd, 1965, son of Kwai Chang and Laura-" Al smacked the handlink. It responded with an annoyed squeal. "-Katherine Caine. Ziggy can't find any records on him prior to the age of 12. This information comes from the admission forms when he was placed in Pathways - an orphanage of sorts - as a ward of the state. Between 12 and 14, his school grades were pitiful and he had two-" Al smacked the handlink again. It squealed back at him. "-unsuccessful fosterings. At 14, he was placed in the foster care of Police Captain Paul Blaisdell and his wife Ann. He graduated 50th of 400 from Sloanville High, attended Sloanville Community College, earned an A.A. in Criminology, then graduated fourth in his class from the Sloanville Police Academy. Four years ago, he passed the Detective exam and took an assignment here at the 101st. He has a good arrest record and some minor reprimands for being a cowboy." "He was at an orphanage?" Sam mused. "But...I met his father at lunch!" He looked up at Al. "I called him Caine before I could stop myself - Kermit must know him - and no one batted an eye." "Hmmm...." Al muttered. "I'll try cross-referencing on Kwai Chang Caine," he said, mangling the name. "Why not give me a name I can pronounce, like moo goo gai pan? Or Pai Gow! Once, when I was in Vegas, I met this incredible showgirl-" "Al!" Ziggy interrupted with a beep. "Uh oh," Al said, as he read the information, "this isn't good." "What?" "Ziggy just found a death certificate on Peter Caine, dated September 23rd, 1995." "That's TODAY, Al!" Sam exclaimed. "What time? How did he die?" Al entered the required commands on the handlink and read the display. "The coroner's report says 'suicide.' Time approximately 7 p.m. The kid blew his head off with his own gun. He was found in the locker room showers at the 101st precinct house." Sam looked out "his" office window at Peter Caine's back. Peter still sat at his desk, examining the file on the latest suicide. "Why would he do it, Al? He seems a bit too tightly wound but not suicidal...." "I don't know, Sam." "Well, check on his parents...especially his father." Sam was always unnerved when someone could see him. He wondered briefly if Mr. Caine would be able to see Al. Al typed on the handlink keypad again, then, after a couple of minutes, began reading the output. "Caine, Laura Katherine, born in 1940 to Peter and Cynthia Martin. Her school records appear normal. She married-" Al grimaced at the name, "-Kwaa Change Caine in late 1964 and died in March of 1966. There are no hospital records of childbirth or illness. Caine, Kwai Chang. Hey!" Al exclaimed. "The names gets easier with practice!" Sam gave him a look. Al, chastened, continued. "Caine, Kwai Chang, immigrated to America from China with father, Matthew, in 1945. There are no school records on him, either. Married Laura Katherine in 1964 and listed as deceased in 1978, per Peter's Pathway admissions forms." Sam shook his head. It didn't make sense, even to his swiss-cheesed mind. "This is strange...Ziggy just found a record of Kwai Chang Caine serving jury duty in 1994," Al informed his partner. Sam tried to picture the man he had met at lunch on a jury. It was impossible. "Are you kidding me?" Sam asked. "Nope. Look for yourself...." Al showed Sam the screen on the link. Sam looked at the screen. "Obviously, the news of Mr. Caine's death was highly exaggerated." After a pause, he added, "Al, have Ziggy check psych evaluations on Peter for anything that stands out." "Your wish is my command...." Al joked as he sent a request to the hybrid computer. Another moment passed. Sam checked "his" watch. It was 2 p.m. "Ziggy says Peter was diagnosed with PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He refused to talk to any of the counselors about whatever destroyed the temple where he lived with his father." "Temple? What kind of temple?" Sam inquired. "Al punched the buttons again, then said, "Shaolin." "That might explain why his father could see me...and why Peter couldn't. His father might have some...uh...mystical abilities while any such talents Peter might have may be blocked by his life in a Western culture OR the psychological trauma he experienced." "Seems reasonable - if you believe in that mystical stuff," Al agreed. "You're the one who studied all that martial hong kong fooey, not me." "Okay, so I guess I am here then to save Peter?" Sam asked. "What does Ziggy say?" Al smacked the handlink. It squealed its usual response. "82%...24%...43%...Gooshie! What the hell is wrong with this thing???" Sam looked on as Al continued his battle with Ziggy, via the handlink. Al finally smacked it again in disgust. "What's wrong, Al?" Sam asked, concerned. "Ziggy won't give me any percentages!" Al sputtered. "Sounds like you were getting plenty a moment ago." "Well, they keep changing-! Gooshie, will you-!" Al waved the link in disgust. "When you get back, you GOTTA fix this thing, Sam! Ziggy says, 'most likely' to saving Peter Caine." "'Most likely'???" "There are too many influences, she says...." "WHAT 'too many influences'??" "I don't know!" Al said. "Maybe she's picked up a virus or something...." As if in response, the handlink made an especially rude noise. Al glared at it. "Why do you think Peter would kill himself?" Sam mused. "WOMEN!" Al responded promptly. Sam ignored that. "He's working on a case...suicides...TEN of them in Chinatown in the last THREE days. Let's see what Ziggy can do to find a connection between these people...." Al grimaced at using the uncooperative handlink but grudgingly entered the names of the suicides as Sam requested, swatting the thing a couple of times to get it to accept his input. "So, guess what Tina and I did last night?" Al asked suggestively while they waited. Sam rolled his eyes. "Al...I don't want to know!" "We went to the opera!" Al told him defensively. "Most boring thing I ever saw in my life-!" ***** Alia finally managed to "drag" Zoey into the ladies' room where hopefully they could talk in private. "WHAT am I here to do?" Alia snapped at Zoey. "Well," Zoey said reproachfully, "don't WE suddenly have a temper!" Alia looked downward. Zoey, mollified somewhat, continued. "You have a GUN, darling. Surely even you can think of the wonderful possibilities! Why, the most simplest of all would be to go out there and start shooting people. Your poor host would get killed herself or spend the rest of her life inside an insane asylum!" Alia sighed. She didn't know what was worse; Zoey in a good mood or Zoey in a bad mood. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was which. "What's the little host's name this time?" Alia showed Zoey "her" identification, who in turn consulted her own computer linkup. "Mary Margaret Skalany!" Zoey cackled. "How precious!" The door to the ladies' room opened and Alia scrambled to grab her lipstick and look normal. The blonde looked at her as she carefully applied the lipstick. "Got another date with Caine," she asked, "or are you on hooker detail again?" Alia smiled nervously - she hated ad-libbing. She had gotten very good at it, though. "What do YOU think?" she answered teasingly. "Caine...." mused Zoey. "That's the name of that delicious hunk outside! Oh, I am going to enjoy this one!" The blonde, whose badge said "Powell", said, "Well, Peter is tearing his hair out over this suicide spree so you have Caine all to yourself." Alia looked questioningly at Zoey as Powell entered a stall. Obviously, Zoey's "delicious hunk" and Skalany's regular date-partner were two different people. Zoey, quiet for once, entered the data into the handlink. "Oh, listen to this, darling," Zoey crowed, as Alia took out a kleenex and began dabbing at an imaginary stain in her jacket to cover her presence in the ladies' room. "You go for older men! It's his father!" Zoey leaned close to Alia and whispered, "What say let's get daddy and hunk fighting over you???" Alia sighed again. This was going to be a very long leap. ***** "Kwai Chang Caine," Lo Si protested, "you must not attempt this!" Caine was sitting lotus-position on his meditation pad, with candles of various incense burning around him. "Kermit is a friend," he told the Ancient. "He is a friend of my son. I must try." "You have said that Kermit is all right," Lo Si protested. "If you do not know how this deed was done, you will not know where to begin looking." "I cannot sit and wait," Caine said. His tone was respectful, as it always was when speaking to the Ancient, but his voice carried a hint of steel will. "I MUST attempt to find Kermit. Please contact me if this stranger comes before I return." Lo Si knew from experience when it was useless to argue with Kwai Chang Caine. "You must take care," he said, "and use your energy wisely. Otherwise, you will have none left to bring yourself back." Caine nodded once and threw powder into the largest candle in front of him. It sparked and threw up a shower of smoke. ***** TO BE CONTINUED!