Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1999 16:38:55 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" X-Sender: krfreymu@brain.uccs.edu Subject: Whale ch 18 Message-ID: Chapter 18 "This is incredible!" Sam exclaimed as he paced the length of the Waiting Room. "This is the Waiting Room, isn't it?" he asked a middle-aged black woman who had entered the room only a few moments earlier. "My gawd! It works! A lifetime's dream and it really works!" He looked into the reflective surface of the Waiting Room's table. "I have gray hair! And crow's feet! Gawd, I look so pale!" He looked at the black woman. "You must be Dr. Verbina Beeks. I've had your name on my list for a long time. Where's Al? He's here, isn't he? He didn't take that job offer in Washington, did he?" "Uhh... he's here. You're Dr. Samuel Beckett?" Verbina asked, making sure she wasn't imagining everything." "Of course I am," he asked with slight confusion of the question. "This is amazing!" Verbina exclaimed. "You've never...." She stopped herself before she said anything she shouldn't. "What date is it, Dr. Beckett?" Sam frowned at the question. "You mean the date I came from? You don't know?" He started pacing. "Didn't you make a location lock before I leaped?" Verbina didn't answer the question. Sam frowned at her lack of response. "You didn't, did you? Why not? I can't have leaped without knowing the date and person I was going to leap into," he stated. Verbina took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I can't tell you anything concerning the project itself. However, I can tell you that traveling in time does cause some temporary memory loss and I just want to determine how your memory is." Sam gave her a look that clearly stated he didn't believe her. "Please, Dr. Beckett, can you tell me the date as you remember it?" Sam took a deep breath. "August 8, 1990." Verbina smiled. "Happy Birthday." "Thanks." "Do you remember where you were last?" Sam hesitated before looking at Verbina with realization. "You know, I can't remember." His eyes widened. "I can't remember where I was! But I have a photographic memory! How can that be?" He paused. "The memory loss you told me about is real." Verbina nodded. "Don't worry. It'll all come back to you once you return to your own time but you won't remember being here." Sam smiled. "I never realized that this would happen! Do you realize how incredible this is?" Verbina merely smiled. "I've got to see Al. I've got to talk to him!" Sam's face was as bright as a light bulb. "And Alpha. I want to see Alpha." Verbina hesitated slightly at the sound of the name Sam had assigned to the computer Al named Ziggy. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, we need you to remain here," she told him. Sam nodded. "I understand," he told her before she left the Waiting Room. Five days had passed since Al was confined to the infirmary, much to his chagrin. Despite the confinement, he insisted that he continue to work from his bed, signing documents and reading reports just as if he were in his office. Finally, today he would be allowed to move about the complex with the stipulation that he use a wheelchair until Dr. MacArthyr gave the okay for him to walk on his own. Al wasn't fond of that idea in the least. Verbina walked into the infirmary with a smile. She had seen the look on Al's face when he saw the wheelchair sitting beside his bed. "I swear, Verbina," Al said as she walked over to him. He was sitting on the side of his bed. "The sooner I get to my own bed, the better. These infirmary beds are from hell." Verbina laughed slightly. Al smiled at her before lowering his eyebrows slightly. *There's something hidden in that smile*, he thought. "What is it?" "There's someone in the Waiting Room who wants to see you." "Who?" Al asked, finishing dressing himself slowly. "Sam Beckett," Verbina answered with a grin. Al shook his head. "You tell very poor jokes, Verbina." "It's not a joke." "What do you mean?" Verbina took a breath. "I mean there's a man in the Waiting Room who is personally asking for you and he comes from the year 1990." Al straightened up quickly and stood up, hiding a wince of pain from Verbina. "You're telling me that Sam leaped into himself in 1990? Did he tell you what day it was?" "August 8th." "August 8th," Al repeated. "His thirty-seventh birthday. That's the day before we met with Congress for final approval for Project Quantum Leap!" Al started towards the door quickly but stopped, his eyes shut against the pain just above his abdomen. Verbina frowned at him. "Al, use the wheelchair. Those are Dr. MacArthyr's orders. And mine." Al turned around and frowned at her. "Verbina..." "No arguments, Al. That is unless you like the idea of being in a wheelchair for the rest of your life rather than for a couple of months," she told him firmly. "Don't take these orders as simply to make your life annoying. Technically, you should still be in bed. Don't make me relieve you of command and order you back to bed." Al exhaled. He shook his head, looking into Verbina's determined eyes. *She can and would do it, too.* "I'm not sitting in that damn chair in front of Sam, though." "You have to stay off your feet. You can't have so much pressure on your spinal column." She hesitated. "It could paralyze you." Al was silent for a moment. "I'll use the chair I put in the Imaging Chamber and stay seated." Verbina frowned at him with doubt. "And what about in the Waiting Room?" Al looked at her firmly. "Sam doesn't see my in a wheelchair. It's bad enough the rest of the complex has to." Verbina took a step forward. "Admiral, whether you're standing or sitting, walking or in a wheelchair, you are still the Admiral, our leader. No one, especially not Sam, will see you as any less because you were injured. In fact, just the opposite. You risked your life to save our lives and this project. It is the least we can do to make sure you recover fully." Al exhaled, rubbing his face. *Damn, she's good*, he thought. *The little manipulator.* He looked at her firmly. "My decision stands. I will not use that chair in front of Sam." Verbina pierced her lips. "Very well, Admiral. But there are five levels between the infirmary and the Waiting Room. If you would, please?" She motioned to the wheelchair by the infirmary bed from which Al had left. Al took a deep breath, swallowed his pride and sat in the wheelchair, realizing the moment he did that it was the smartest thing he did all day. The moment he did, his ribs and back ceased to ache as they did before. "So," Verbina asked with a grin of slight victory, "will it be the Waiting Room or the Imaging Chamber?" Al glared at her. "Don't be so damn smug about it, 'Bina." He rolled himself towards the door. "We'll see once we get down there." "You know, Zoe," Thames told his partner with a smile. "You really don't look bad in uniform. The women probably fall at this guy's feet. Damn, that's sharp! I have to get myself one of those." Zoe glared at her partner slightly. "Enough chatter, Thames," Zoe replied as she looked at the reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Just tell me what Lothos says I have to do." Thames huffed slightly. "Little Swiss-cheesed now, aren't you?" He smiled slightly as he consulted the pyramid-shaped handlink to the hybrid computer. "Well, I would think that you know that you're here to kill the Good Doctor and ruin Admiral Calavicci's illustrious career." Zoe adjusted her jacket with care. "How, where, and when?" Thames rose his eyebrows. "Patience, dear lady. Patience." Zoe glanced at him. "I would think by now that you would know I am not a lady." Thames smiled slightly with amusement. "Be careful how loudly you say that, Zoe. Someone might hear you and misconstrue the statement." Zoe huffed. "What do I care? It matters nothing to me." Thames was consulting the handlink. "I see that you've come prepared. Nice choice in weapon, by the way. I trust you had no problem smuggling it through airport security." Zoe laughed slightly. "What airport security? We used his private plane. Direct access." Thames rose his eyebrows. "So, this guy owns his own plane. Impressive!" "Just tell me what Lothos wants me to do," Zoe instructed. Thames took a breath. "He says to make sure that you kill Dr. Beckett in public. Some place where people can see that you've shot and killed him." He consulted the handlink. "Hmmmm. Interesting." Zoe raised an eyebrow. She looked over Thames' shoulder at the readout and smiled. "You're right, Thames," she said, gazing into the mirror. "This is going to be very interesting."