Message-Id: <199801042328.PAA00614@f138.hotmail.com> From: "Carol Belyea" Subject: Chances - Chapter Two Date: Sun, 04 Jan 1998 15:28:37 PST Chapter Two Washington DC Monday, September 4, 2000 Five a.m. struck loudly on Senator Charles Harrison's ancient clock radio, beckoning him awake. He moaned, his intentions more set on going back to sleep, but reluctantly pushed his tired body out of bed. Feet dragging on the floor, he went to the bathroom and familiarly passed his hand over the smooth glowing surface of the light sensor pad on the wall. The lights slowly came up. He let out a blaring yawn and looked down at the sink. The faucet had no handles to turn on hot or cold, but instead had an infrared sensor. He placed his hands under the spout and a perfect temperature of water flowed out of the sterile chrome. He splashed the pleasantly warm liquid onto his gray stubbled face. Blinking, the man looked up and studied his exhausted self in the large mirror over the sink. He lived alone, had no family to care for and constantly thought he was just another tired old man with a job that seemed to be winding down faster than the US government itself. Harrison mentally ran down his checklist. So what have I got? Daily reports from two classified projects I'm not even supposed to talk about in my sleep. Some scientist is supposedly lost in time and another is investigating the UFO that they claim landed in the 50s. Really just a bunch of bull. The senator did his standard morning routine and after showering, returned to his room to dress in a usual senator ensemble. Still shaking away sleep, the senator slipped on his large glasses. He walked the short distance to the kitchen with sleepy, stone-like eyes hidden behind the thick, tinted lenses. He quickly put together some instant coffee. Finally, he headed out the door to report to the Pentagon. Upon arriving, he went directly up to the third floor where his office was located. "Good morning, Ms. Xavier," He greeted his secretary with a nod, "Any mail?" "Yes, Senator Harrison. It's on your desk." "Thank you." he said with an insincere tone of gratitude. He walked inside his fairly bland office. The room's walls were almost bare except for the two landscape pictures decorating it. Cheap plush carpeting, cheap desk, cheap chairs, and a standard metallic file cabinet in the corner. With all the money the government has, Harrison thought to himself as he looked around the office, you'd think they'd provide better than this. Harrison set his briefcase down on the desk and sat his chair in front of the computer. Typing out a code to enter into the computer's mainframe, he silently cursed modern technology. In his old age, he had never really gotten used to everything being on computers. He waited until the screen brightened with a picture model of the actual pentagon and a small window asking him to type in another code. He did. Letting out a sigh, the senator read the newest bulletins from the classified projects. He read down the list of news, some of which was old or tedious. All but one saying, "Dr. Samuel Beckett returns home." Leaning forward, he swept his glasses off his face, jaw dropped. "Holy shit!" ********************************** Project Quantum Leap Stallion's Gate, New Mexico Monday, September 4, 2000 At three in the morning, everything was peacefully quiet in the sterile halls of the Project. In the Beckett apartment though, someone was definitely not a happy camper. Baby Jonathan Beckett was quite awake, the infant's screams cutting through the stillness of slumber. Donna and Sam lay tranquilly in bed holding each other when they both awoke from a captivating sleep. "Sam," Donna moaned, "your son is screaming." "This early in the morning he's yours." Sam stated in a fatigued tone, not opening his eyes. Donna sighed and got to her feet to fetch their little bundle of joy and a bottle of formula from the refrigerator. She quietly came back into the room cradling their son with one arm and a warm bottle of milk in the other hand. She set the bottle on the night stand beside her side of the bed and carefully slipped under the covers, still holding Little Jonathan. Sam was already sitting up, ready to receive his son. Donna smiled at him and handed little Johnny over to him. "There you go." She said serenely, handing him the bottle next. She got back into bed and snuggled with her husband as he fed the baby. "Isn't he beautiful?" Donna asked, noticing Sam's reaction. "He certainly is." He answered wistfully. Donna caught woe in her husband's voice and was concerned. "What's wrong?" She asked. Sam sighed. "When was he born?" "May tenth of this year. Why?" Whispering, he answered her. "I didn't get to see his birth. I'm the father and husband. I should've been there." She looked into his eyes and bore into them with great intensity. "Sam," Donna started gently, "I know and you know that you couldn't have. When you came back that day in September, even if for a day, I knew you'd come back again." She fell silent. For a moment, neither said a word to each other and all that was heard was the couple's child, feeding hungrily on the bottle. "I shouldn't have left you." "And leave you're best friend and mine back in 1945 to die? We all know you couldn't have done that. It wouldn't have been right. But it's over now. You're home and the past is permanently the past. Let it go." Sam nodded. He gazed into the infant's eyes, identical to his own, and saw how they sparkled with wisdom and intelligence. The characteristics made Sam feel very proud and content. Right now, his son was definitely not much from head to toe, but Sam knew he would grow up to become an important man. Perhaps one that could take on a large Project like Quantum Leap. But right now, Sam simply enjoyed the stage of infancy while he could. He smiled to himself and then to his wife. ****************************** During the day, infinite metallic corridors at the complex all looked the same. At six in the morning, anyone could care less. One after the other, counting the archways, Al Calavicci made his way to the Project cafeteria. Normally he would just make something of his own in his small kitchen; toast, eggs, maybe even an omelet. Today, though, he couldn't stand the isolation of his apartment and wanted to socialize and talk to someone; Sam in particular. Alas, being that it was his first night home, Al thought it best that Sam spend some valuable time with his new family. So instead of waiting in the loneliness of his room, he chose his only other alternative. To mingle with the other members of the Project staff. The Admiral turned the last corner and came upon a closed door. It automatically opened, splitting in the center, to omit him into the Project cafeteria. The fairly plain room had long stretching tables that ran the length of the room. About half of them were full. Al went to the glass counter to the right of the entrance and began to choose the ready-made breakfast that he would eat. He decided on a waffle topped with strawberries and syrup, then filled a mug with seeming black coffee. It was mostly the taste that kept them awake during long nights and woke them up in the mornings. Everyone hated it. Al turned around to look for "the little group" and found them on the opposite end of the dining area. Gooshie, Verbena, . . . Tina. Oh, Tina. How could he have lost her to that little twerp of a computer programmer? Dismissing the bad blood he felt against Gooshie, Tina's husband, Al crossed the room with casual, easy strides and took a seat next to Verbena Beeks. She flashed a bright smile his way, "Good morning, Al." "Salutations, Admiral." Said Gooshie, a protective arm around his wife. "Hi, Al!" Tina said with her trade mark cheerfulness. Al grinned. "'Morning, guys." "And what a lovely morning it is!" Verbena began, "Nice and calm . . . mentally stable." "Thank God for that. I don't think we could've lived going on like we did." He really hadn't meant for that to rhyme. He grinned at the absurdity of the realization. Tina giggled. "Hey, that rhymes!" "Yeah, I'm a poet and I didn't even realize it. Wait, that's not it . . ." That was on purpose and all four laughed. It felt good to have this kind of relaxation again. Even if the next step involved the committee approval and so on. That'll come later though, Al decided. He continued his conversation with his group, "So, did you all have fun last night?" Verbena answered, "I danced so much, I couldn't walk straight when we got home." "Me too." Tina chimed in, "But me and Gooshie got home earlier than most people did. It got stuffy in there, ya know." ***************************** The ensign stepped out of the helicopter after the long ride from Washington. There was a guard there waiting for him. "I have a message for Admiral Calavicci and Dr. Beckett that I need to hand deliver immediately. Would you be so kind as to escort me to either one of them?" The guard nodded, not wanting to waste his breath screaming over the loud hum of the flying vehicle. Then led the way to the entrance of the Project. When they were both inside the complex, the ensign was seated on a sofa as Ziggy was asked to summon the Admiral. ************************** "Sam we have to report to the Pentagon in two days. They found out that you're back and they have questions." Al said while alone with Sam in his living room. Donna was in Johnny's room rocking him to sleep for his much needed nap. Sam sat down on the couch and asked what time tomorrow the plane would pick them up. "Some time around ten or eleven, I think. The guy didn't give me an exact time. But Sam, from the tone in that ensigns voice, they're really serious. We're going to get a hotel suite before the meeting, so we'll have some time to prepare ourselves before facing black death." Then Al took a puff from his cigar and blew smoke away from Sam. Sam was thinking, how the hell am I going to explain things I don't even remember? But he said, "All right. Then we better get ready. What type of things are they going to ask me. . . and you? I don't remember anything. Well, except for leaping home a year ago." Al blew out another stream of smoke, "I don't know what they have in store for us. God knows we've been though enough." "Yeah, well. . .A hotel suite, huh? Something must be going on. Do they even believe that I've traveled in time?" Al made a doubtful face, "Good question. Since you leaped they've been asking me where you really are. Maybe they'll want proof that it did actually happen." Donna walked in then. "You two better get moving if you're going to leave tomorrow." she let out a sigh. "I'll pray that it goes well." ****************************** At exactly 9:30 p.m. they boarded the plane and took off. They were to anticipate a four and a half hour flight. The thought of the long flight made Sam feel practically air sick. He never did much like long flights. The plane was nice on the inside and almost homey. There were two small rows of seats and a conference area in the front of the plane (The conference area was really just a bunch of seats that faced each other) where Al and Sam sat. The windows had small lovely teal curtains hanging beside them. After a while of silence Al spoke, "Sam during the meeting, I don't want you to get mad at them or anything. Remember what happened the last time you blew up at them?" Reverse Swiss-Cheese effect kicked in. "Yeah, I remember. They weren't very happy." "To put it lightly." Al couldn't help himself and began to chuckle. The look on Wietzman's face had been priceless. "In case you forgot I've been telling them for a while that GodFateTime or Whatever has been in charge of your leaps. And the Retrieval Program hasn't been working, so that's why you came home. It was your time." Sam sighed, "Yeah, I have to fix that thing." Sam leaned his head back, bumping his head on the wall behind him. "Ow. Do we have to go, Daddy?" Al huffed, " 'Fraid so, son." Sam grinned, "You know that Retrieval Program does need a lot of work I'm going to start to work on it as soon as we get home. And then there's the Accelerator that needs some adjustments. Then I need to update some of Ziggy's data and programs. Then there's Johnny to think about . . .there sure is a lot to do." Sam was now getting tired just thinking about all that needed to be done. Amazing, he thought, so much to do and I've only been here a few days. Al watched Sam's face. "Down boy!" That statement interrupted Sam's thoughts and made him look up at the smirking face of his best friend. Shrugging his shoulders Al asked, "What?" ************************ They landed at exactly 2:00 New Mexico time, which is 4:00 Washington time. When they stepped off the aircraft, there was a limousine there awaiting their arrival. The driver, 'Fred, just Fred', was an extremely quiet man. He introduced himself, opened the door for them both, and tranquilly drove the two of them to the hotel anticipated. Upon arriving to the complementary hotel Suite, Sam opened the door took a step inside and held the door open so Al could enter. It was a nice room. The carpet was a light peach that matched the bedspreads of two queen beds. Separating the beds was a single night stand which held a lamp, alarm-radio and a Welcome' note. There was a round table with two chairs on either side, in the corner by the window with hanging peach vertical blinds. Across from the beds was a cherry amour complete with a television set. Beside the amour there was a short long dresser that was also of cherry wood. Then above it what appeared to be a long hexagonal sheet of steel. Beside the door was a hallway which led to a bathroom and a sink, then a bar with a small refrigerator beneath it. Al walked over to the bed and sat down. He let out a sigh and opened the top drawer in the night stand. "Al, look at the fruit basket. It's huge." Sam said, vaguely surprised. He couldn't remember the last time the government had taken such drastic measures to see to their comfort. "Yeah, nice." Al said taking out the standard bible out of the drawer and flipping though the pages. He looked very focused on what he was doing, and the tone in his voice caught Sam's attention. "Al what are you doing? Do you plan to pray for deliverance from God and success for this stupid meeting?" "No, I'm looking for a twenty." Al stated. That truly confused Sam. "I once found one in one of these things." Sam stared at him momentarily, "Okay." then went over to curiously peak into the bar to see what was in it. "And look, there's a little refrigerator, Al. One of those really little ones that you open with the little key." While Sam spoke Al had gotten to his feet, finding nothing in the good-for-nothing bible, and walked over to the crystal vase full of flowers that was on top of the dresser. Al touched one of the petals and began to remember one of his few happy memories before the war had changed him. **He quietly opened the door to their room, but it creaked, giving him away. The women at the dressing table wearing tight jeans and a sweater that made her look extremely sexy, turned to look at him. Her smile was radiant and genuine. She raised a graceful hand to push back shining black hair that had fallen in her eyes. "Welcome home, Al." she said as she stood up and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I missed you awfully today." God she smelled good! He kissed her and brought his hand out from behind his back. He had brought flowers home for her tonight, to make up for the past week that he hadn't been able to come home until she was already in bed; asleep. She took the flowers from him and looked down at them. "My favorite." she exclaimed for what must have been the two thousandth time since they had met. "Thank you." He kissed her deeply, expressing all his inner feelings toward the angel in his arms. "I love you."** Pulling back, and storing the precious memory, Al sadly stated, "Calla Lilies were Beth's favorite." Sam did nothing and Al turned around to face him. "You know, my fifth wife hated Calla Lilies, or was it my fourth?" Al took a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it up. "Al?" "It could have been my third . . ." Al seemed to be trying very hard to remember that small detail. "Al?" He looked up with perked eyebrows, "Huh?" "Uh, nothing. . . But, we only have two hours before we have to leave. So we should get ready." Al didn't answer to that statement, and turned around to gaze into the sheet of steel upon the wall. Less than a second later within the steel, its surface shifted. Then, as if it had always been so, it converted into a spotless, self-cleaning mirror. Al ran his hand through his semi-curly black hair, then turned around to once again survey the room. He made a smudge face and said, "It looks like a poodle threw up in here." Sam nodded in agreement, "Yeah, a big peach one." --------------------------------------