VIRTUAL SEASONS EPISODES

PROLOGUE

Dr. Sam Beckett, quantum physicist, was in the static blue-white nexus once more, resting between his time-traveling missions to put right what once went wrong.  He could feel nothing physically at the moment, just the sensation of not being bound by the laws of gravity.  Sam could not remember this place when he leaped nor the voice of the Other, the one who often spoke to him.  Those memories only stayed with him while in this stasis.

“Are you prepared?” the voice of the Other spoke to him.

“Am I going home?” Sam asked desperately, his desire to return to his own time as deep as ever.

“Not yet.  The objective is not yet accomplished,” came the reply in a tone that almost sounded stressful.  “You must leap.”

At that moment, Dr. Beckett could feel the twisting sensation enveloping him, and his world began swirling, swirling, until the familiar faint whining sound grew, and once again, he found himself in the past, his body occupying the aura of yet another host.

The time-traveler thought the effect of the leaping was taking longer than usual to wear off from the noise that still reverberated in his ears.  However, when Sam’s physical senses finally kicked in, he discovered that the sound of a crowd cheering was the new clamor.  He was not expecting, however, to find himself sliding, nor holding on to something that was sliding in front of him, almost dragging him along.  The cold air around Sam was a shocking change of temperature to his skin, and as he looked closer to his surroundings, he realized that he was gliding down a large stretch of ice.

“What are you doing, Jerry?!  Let go of the stone!” a voice called out from in front of him to his left.  Frantic, the leaper began trying to stop himself as he released the large, round object that he was holding onto by its handle, and ended up falling onto his side.  Sam spun like a top, crashing into the guy who jeered at him, who instantly joined Sam at ground level, unfortunately using the physicist as a landing pad. The crowd’s cheering turned to laughter and sounds of sympathy.

Letting out a sound of pain at the other man’s elbow digging into his ribs as he stood up, Sam was relieved when another person came over and dragged him off the ice.

“Great, the stone didn’t even make it anywhere close!  What’s wrong with you?” the rib-jabber complained, and glared at Sam.  Embarrassed, Sam Beckett moved his gaze to the ground and muttered, “Oh, boy.”

PART ONE 

Friday, March 23, 2001

Red Deer, Alberta

        “Hey, lay off, Earl,” the young-looking man who helped Sam off the rink hissed, knowing that the leaper must already feel bad enough as it is.  “You all right, Jerry?  You’ve never fallen before...”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” Sam answered, rubbing his ribcage slightly before walking farther away from the ice, which made him feel calmer at each step.  “I just kinda lost my balance back there.”

The other man nodded his head in understanding.  “It happens to the best of us,” he joked, slapping Sam on the back and leaving him alone with his thoughts, rejoining the other three men at the side of the rather skinny and long ice rink.  “What kind of crazy sport is this?” he half-whispered to himself.

“I believe it’s called ‘curling’, Sam,” the gravely voice of Admiral Al Calavicci said, startling the living daylights out of the unsuspecting scientist.

“Al!” Sam cringed and turned, his expression full of even more embarrassment and annoyance at the observer’s unexpected appearance.  “What are you doing here already?”  Normally, Sam didn’t mind Al showing up sooner than later, but this had to be some kind of record.

“Well, if you want, I can go back for a while...” the admiral kidded, gesturing toward the handlink as if to open the Imaging Chamber Door and return to the Control Room.  Sam shook his head, realizing this was not the place to be talking to thin air.  Looking around, Sam saw someone who looked like he might be the coach approaching the ice-side team members.  “I’m going to see if I can be excused from the rest of this... this... insane game,” the leaper decreed as he walked over to join his host’s team members.

The older man in a mackinaw coat turned around as Sam trotted toward him and the rest of Jerry’s curling team.  “What was that all about?” he growled, his tone more harsh than the almost-concerned expression on his bearded face.  “The skip doesn’t screw up during a crucial game of the championship qualifiers!”

Sam cringed slightly, not knowing how his host would react to such criticism.  “I’m s-sorry, Coach,” he stammered out, noticing the unimpressed faces of Jerry’s teammates.  “It’s just that when he,” the leaper said, pointing at Earl, “yelled at me, it threw me off.”

Dr. Beckett was not one to lay blame on other people when he couldn’t help it, but it was true that Earl’s yelling helped him in tumbling to the ice.  He wouldn’t admit to Al that he probably would have fallen despite Earl’s heckling, having leaped into such a strange situation.

“Me?  You’re the one who wasn’t…” Earl started to argue, but was cut short when the coach snapped his hand up to silence him.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.  You all had better just smarten up and be supportive of each other,” the coach warned, looking from Earl to Sam accusingly.  “You’re a damned team, not rivals.  Get yer acts together.”  With that, he stomped back toward the team’s bench at one end of the ice, while the four of them stood where they were, looking back and forth at each other.  The one who helped Sam up looked at him expectantly.  “You gonna go for it again, Jerry?” he asked.

Sam hesitated a moment, and the three other members of the team looked downtrodden, guessing at his negative response.  “Uh, I don’t think so.  Can I just have a few minutes?  I think... I think I twisted my ankle or something,” he answered, lifting his right foot ever so slightly to accentuate his false injury.  Playfully, Al gave him a look of surprise:  Dr. Beckett hated lying, but he needed to figure out what to do next, and that chiefly involved talking to the admiral.  The guy named Earl let out a big sigh.  “Fine, I’ll fill in for him.  I guess I’m up then,” he said flatly and followed the path of the coach.

“C’mon, Sam, we gotta have a little chat,” the observer chirped, the sound of Al noodling on the handlink coming from behind Sam. 

“Just a minute, Al,” he hissed, getting a strange look from the remaining two men.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” the fourth member of the team spoke up.  “You didn’t knock him on the head when you helped him up, did you, Aaron?”  The one who helped Sam up, Aaron, shook his head, but then stared at Sam curiously.  “Who’s Al?”

Dr. Beckett, unprepared for the common question when he accidentally called out his holographic best friend’s name, looked up in the crowd.  “Oh, my uncle Al was waving at me from the stands,” Sam said, covering for his slip up, waving at nobody in particular.  A few people in the audience looked behind themselves to see at whom the clumsy team captain was waving.

Aaron furrowed his brow incredulously and smiled wanly.  “Well, why don’t you just sit out an end or two, then?”  Sam already liked this guy; he was concerned for the welfare of others and stood up against Earl earlier.  “It’s only the fourth end.  Mark can go talk to the umpire and let them know.”

Sam nodded, very appreciative of the offer to take a breather, and grimaced.  Mark walked off toward the other end of the sheet of ice, and Aaron joined Earl and the coach.  The leaper turned to face Al, who was sporting a goofy grin.  “You don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you?” the admiral mocked.

Silently, Sam walked toward a set of double doors with a fire exit sign above them, and pushed one open slowly.  When on the other side, he looked around for other people.  Finding none, he realized that Al had disappeared.  “Al?  Where’d you go?”  On queue, the holographic projection of Al Calavicci re-appeared in front of him, answering in a light-hearted tone, “Nowhere, Sam, I just didn’t feel like walking after you.”

“Ha ha, ’tis to laugh,” Sam replied, his words bordering on acidic.  “Now what am I doing here, and why did I find myself flying down a huge sheet of ice?”

Al chuckled.  “Well, you got some of the terminology down already.  That rink out there is indeed called a ‘sheet’.  In fact, its exactly one-hundred forty-six feet by fourteen feet two inches,” the observer read from the handlink. 

“I don’t need the life history of the game, Al,” the leaper was getting annoyed now, finding that his ankle was indeed feeling somewhat out of the norm.

Making a point of seeming to ignore Sam’s statement, the observer continued on.  “This game has hundreds of years of history, Sam, so be glad I’m just giving you the basics.  I always watch curling during the Winter Olympics.  It can get repetitive, but it’s fun to watch... especially some of the female teams...” he began to say lecherously, getting a glare from the prudish Sam.  “Seriously, it takes a lot of hard work to get good at this game, Sam.  I hope you inherited some of Jerry’s talent.” 

Sam feigned a hurt expression.  “Well, I’ve never been one for the cold anyway.  Winter in Indiana was enough for me, thanks.”  He couldn’t, however, remember exactly what the weather in New Mexico was like, where Project Quantum Leap was located.  It was probably hot.  It would reason to believe that’s why he chose the desert, would it not?  Some place undesirable to live and therefore devoid of human population.

Sighing, as if he had heard this a thousand times before, Al turned back to the handlink.  “Anyway, you’ve leaped into Red Deer, Alberta, which is located about half-way between Edmonton and Alberta.  The temperature outside right now is minus fifteen degrees Celsius, and with the wind chill, that’s about five degrees Fahrenheit below zero!  They don’t have weather like this and not get to host the 1988 Olympics, Sam.  Wow, that was the year when the Jamaicans had a bobsled team.”

Rolling his eyes at Al’s joviality, Sam interjected again.  “Thanks for this history lesson, but why am I here?  Is this some kind of Olympic event that I just screwed up?  And don’t you dare tell me that Ziggy hasn’t found ‘sufficient information’ yet.”

“No, Sam, you’re not in Calgary, and this isn’t 1988.  Didn’t you notice the fashion?  The hairstyles?  Definitely not the ’80s.”  Sam shifted his weight, trying to emphasize his impatience.  “The date is March 23, 2001.  As for information, well, to tell the truth, this poor kid thinks that he’s having some kind of vivid dream, but he was co-operative in giving his name and the date, but that’s all he can remember.  I took notice of your uniform,” Al continued as the leaper took a gaze at his apparel, remarking the coat of arms of the University of Calgary embroidered in yellow and red on the left breast of his windbreaker, “and Ziggy did a search of University of Calgary’s records. It turns out that Jerald McCormick, or ‘Jerry’ as he’s known, is a first-year student with hopes to major in psychology, and he eventually does, going into study the cognitive side of things.  He’s also the skip of one of their curling teams.  He played all throughout high school, and he’s really good, Sam,” the admiral relayed, taking a brief pause to let it sink in a bit.  “In fact, he’s still playing today, with hopes of going to the 2006 Olympics in Italy.  Hey, maybe I can go watch him in person!  Wouldn’t that be neat, Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Al.  I’m less interested in the distant future and more concerned about the present... er, the past...  well, you know what I mean!” Sam exclaimed, getting a little aggravated with trying to explain himself.  “Just find out what I’m here to do, all right?  Go check out Ziggy.”

With an impish grin, Al replied, “Sam, even if Ziggy is a she, I wouldn’t ‘check her out’.”  The handlink made a sound of protest and the admiral gave it a little shake before punching in the command to open the door back to the Control Room.  “Just pay attention to the game and try to pick it up.  Simply put, you throw the stone down the ice and try to get it on the button while knocking out the other team’s stones,” suggested the observer, realizing that the leaper had no idea what the terminology was, but not wanting to stick around to be yelled at anymore.  “I think I’ll go back and watch ‘Cool Runnings’ until we find something out,” commented Al as he stepped through the threshold.

Before Sam could get a word in, he saw the observer’s cheesy grin, and the Imaging Chamber Door closed, leaving the time-traveler alone in the cool concrete hallway.  With a heavy sigh, he turned and went back into the main arena, limping slightly as he walked toward his team’s bench.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Contact me when you’ve got some more info from Ziggy,” Al called to Edward St. John V, the chief programmer, as he placed the handlink on the main console.  “I’m going to see how far Verbena’s gotten along with the visitor and then take a break.  Lemme know if anything happens with Sam.”

“Certainly, Albert,” St. John replied, but quickly asked before the admiral left the Control Room, “How is Samuel?  You weren’t in there for very long.”

“Oh, he’s fine.  Just a little chilly, that’s all,” Al answered with a mischievous smirk, abandoning St. John to feel curious and a little mystified.  Walking down the corridor to the Waiting Room, the observer whistled a jazz tune to himself, nodding a greeting at a few passing technicians and saluting the occasional marine on guard.  He approached the large bay door of the Waiting Room and tilted his face slightly to the ceiling.

“Ziggy?  Is it safe to enter?” asked Al, cautiously.  One could never be too careful when dealing with visitors.

“Fortunately, Admiral, Mr. McCormick is quite complacent about his current surroundings, and Dr. Beeks is just on her way out of the Waiting Room,” the voice of Ziggy responded, coming from what felt like all around him.

“Oh, good,” he answered cheerily, and stood back slightly, leaning on the wall of the corridor with his arms crossed over his chest.  Not even ten seconds passed before the great door opened, and Verbena Beeks, project psychiatrist, walked down the ramp at a steady pace, coming to a slow halt once through the doorway.

“Good morning, Al,” she greeted him, smiling, not seeming to even take note of his vivid ensemble.  Topped with a red fedora, the admiral was hardly dressed as his title inferred.  His unzipped jacket was a bronze colour with his famed star pendant clipped on the pocket of the left breast.  Underneath, he was wearing a fiery-orange dress shirt, accented by a neon-green tie.  His pants were a conservative black and only brought out the other colours, and the shoes matched his coat.  “This leap seems to be off on the right foot on our end.  We have a happy visitor and Ziggy found Sam pretty quickly.”  Verbena paused.  “How is Sam doing, anyway?”

The admiral stood up straight and began walking double-file down the corridor with the psychiatrist.  “He’s just a little confused, that’s all.  I just need to teach him the rules of curling, which is a lot harder than it sounds,” he rejoined.  “That’ll probably just confuse him further, so I told him to pick up the game on his own.”

Verbena laughed at Al’s remark.  “Well, Ziggy hasn’t made any predictions on his reason for being there yet, has she?”

“No,” the observer said, shaking his head.  “He just got there, so we really haven’t had time to feed any scenarios into Ziggy yet, but I have St. John working on it.  If this start is any indication for the rest of the leap, it shouldn’t be anything too serious.  It’s obviously not something in Jerry’s life since he turns out just fine.  Ziggy says he goes on to graduate from the university and is trying out for the 2006 Winter Olympics.”

The psychiatrist nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his comment on the seriousness, but letting him know that she was listening.  “What if there’s something better out there for him, Al?  What if, instead of going to the Olympics, there is somebody he needs to help near him?”  Dr. Beeks always liked playing the devil’s advocate, especially since it made everyone think about the various possibilities of Sam’s mission.

“If that was true, Verbena, Sam would leap into Jerry at that time, don’t you think?  I mean, this kid’s got it made.  He graduates in cognitive psychology, something he isn’t gonna use in real life anyway...” he began to say, and then winked at Dr. Beeks to make sure she knew he was joking, “and goes on to represent his country in the Olympics.”

“We don’t know that for sure:  you said he’s trying out.  Not to mention, that’s about another two years away,” corrected Verbena.  “We can’t predict what will happen beyond our present time.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” conceded Al, acting as though his dreams were crushed.  “I just like to think that Sam has leaped into somebody who will one day compete in the Olympics.”  With a smirk, he looked over at Verbena.  “I know Sam isn’t supposed to alter world events, but once, just once, I wish he could.  Unfortunately, we can’t use it as evidence for the committee...  nobody outside the project remembers any of the alternate pasts.”

Verbena nodded her head once again, thinking about how many timelines that, despite being slightly different, still are remembered and stored by Ziggy, and the very few that the human occupants can remember before they eventually fade.  Some memories, however, could never be forgotten.  “Well, I think I should grab some morning coffee.  Coming with me, Al?”

“Pass up a trip to the surface?  Never,” the admiral answered, his demeanor switching out of thinking deeply as the craving for caffeine took over.

PART TWO

Sam sat on the bench for two more ends, which he had surmised was what consisted of each team member on both teams taking their turn. Both teams had four players, each player throwing two stones down the rink and playing each stone alternately with his counterpart on the other team.  Thankfully, the umpire had allowed a rotation to replace Sam’s turn, and he learned that the “skip” was like the captain of the team.  This was Jerry’s position and the quantum physicist was determined not to let the young man lose his rank.  For the next end he would try playing this game that was totally foreign to Sam.

He was hoping that Al would return soon with some information as well as some rules about the game.  The scientist was learning slowly, watching the other seven players, and felt like he at least knew enough to hurtle a forty-four-pound stone down the ice.

It was now the finish of the seventh end (out of ten).  During the short breaks between each end, both teams returned to their benches for some water and to discuss the game so far.  University of Calgary, Jerry’s team, was beating University of Alberta by two points, and Sam hoped that his actions didn’t jeopardize the original outcome of the game, even if it meant a loss.

Mark, Aaron, and Earl sat on the wooden bench.  Earl looked annoyed with Sam, Aaron gave him a weak smile, and Mark seemed emotionless.  After a moment of silence, except for the murmur of the crowd and “Steal My Sunshine” by Len playing over the arena speakers, Aaron asked, “So, you ready to jump back in the game?” with hope in his voice.  Sam gathered that they were getting tired.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” he replied, and the spirits of his three teammates lifted immediately. 

The coach clapped him on the back and said, “’Atta boy!  Now go out there and show those Edmonton punks what we Calgarians are made of!”  Sam didn’t know if Jerry or the other three-team members were from the city of Calgary, but figured the coach meant the university.  The four stood up and walked over to the starting point.  Mark and Aaron went out onto the ice with their brooms, as did two members of the other team, and Earl prepared to throw the first stone, since their team had won the previous end, and thus also got to choose to continue using the red-handled rocks.

Sam watched, still in a bit of amazement at how the game worked, as Earl slid the stone down the ice, letting go of the handle, and hear him suddenly start shouting out, “Hard!  Harder!” a few times to indicate to the sweepers that they sweep the ice faster and with more force.  It was a perfect throw:  it landed right on the “button” (the center of the circle at the other end of the ice).  The crowd cheered, some of them waving “U of C” flags proudly.  The other team’s “lead” went next, throwing his yellow-handled stone down the ice.  His rock stopped short of the four-feet circle.  Another group from the audience celebrated, this time with University of Alberta colors flying.

After both leads had finished with their stones, Earl and Mark switched spots, as did the other team’s lead and second.  The seconds were finished throwing, and next went the thirds.  Sam was getting anxious about what would happen during his turn.  Alberta had knocked out all but two of Jerry’s team’s stones, and currently, the score was weighted against Calgary.  The other team’s third had just finished his second throw, and it was now Sam’s turn.  “At least this time I’ve got something of an idea of what I’m doing,” the leaper mused silently, letting out a quick breath.

“C’mon, Jer’, you can do it,” Aaron said as he passed him and took up the spot to replace Sam in the house.  He said nothing more:  Sam was hoping to get some tips.  Nonetheless, he positioned himself as he had observed the others, especially Aaron, and after rolling the stone back and forth beside him a couple of times, gathered his strength and slid the rock, hoping that he’d applied enough force to get it down the ice.

He saw it start to slow down and, using his aptitude for physics, realized that some “sweeping” was in order.  “Hard!  Sweep hard!” Sam shouted, although they’d started some sweeping, now they increased their vigor.  Sam watched as the red rock continued onward and knocked two yellow stones out of the house.  Calgary fans obviously approved and Sam beamed with pride.  “All right!” he heard Aaron shout from behind him.  The time-traveler recognized that he needed to get out of the way for the other team’s skip to play, and stood up, going to stand beside Aaron in the house.

“Not bad for an invalid,” joked Aaron, gesturing towards Sam’s ankle, which was feeling a lot better now.  “Now, hopefully you can do that again after ‘Spike’ here goes.”  Sam chuckled and realized that his teammate was talking about the short, gelled hair of University of Alberta’s skip.  To the leaper, the whitish-blonde hair gelled in such a manner looked like a hedgehog, and he laughed again at the thought.

Their joviality didn’t last long, however, since “Spike” delivered an impressive throw:  his stone knocked out two of Calgary’s along and one of his own, so that gave Alberta two points for the time being.  When he turned around and walked back, he smirked pompously and quipped to Sam, “Good luck.  Try keeping your balance this time.” 

Not wanting to make a scene, the leaper ignored the comment.  Earl and Mark stared at Sam as he approached the ice with the second-last rock of the end.  The time-traveler focused his energy on getting this rock in the right place, which would knock out at least three of the other team’s stones.  Once again, he tried to imitate Aaron’s methods, and after some yelling and sweeping, his stone only managed to knock out one yellow rock and one of their own.  Mark and Earl high-fived each other nevertheless, since this brought down Alberta’s possible score to one point, and the crowd applauded as well.

Luckily for them, “Spike” didn’t deliver as well as he had before, and his rock slipped off to the side, resulting in a single point being added to his team’s score and bringing the game score up to nine for University of Calgary and eight for University of Alberta.  Sam heard the announcers report that the “hammer”, the final stone of the end, was a dud, and gave the crowd a last chance to buy some fifty-fifty tickets.

Just a little over fifteen minutes had passed during that end, and when they returned to the bench, Mark and Earl seemed annoyed with Sam, and it wasn’t until the coach came over that Sam realized he had forgotten his role as the skip, even though this was his first day after all.

“Are you looking to give the title of ‘skip’ to someone else, McCormick?” the coach demanded, his trimmed white beard a bit intimidating.  “I know we have strategies planned, but I didn’t see you give a single piece of damned advice out there!”

“Yeah, Jerry, we coulda used a little help,” Mark put in.  “Even if your ankle’s still bothering you...” He was cut short by the coach, who threw up his arms in exasperation. 

“So much for the championship,” he muttered and stomped off, heading in the direction of the bathroom.

Looking sheepishly at the ground, Sam felt Aaron put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.  “Listen, man, I know you’re a little distracted for other reasons than your ankle, but don’t let the old guy get to ya.  You know he’s a little cranky from those kidney stones that are supposed to pass any day now,” he said, and all four of them cringed at the thought of passing something that large through the male organ, but Aaron turned to Earl and Mark and said, “and you guys shouldn’t be ragging on him so much.  You should know what you’re doing out there.”  They began to protest, but Aaron, more take-charge than he first looked, interrupted.  “But, to be fair, you didn’t say anything to help us out there, Jerry.”

Dr. Beckett bobbed his head knowingly, embarrassed at not doing his job as he should have.  “I know, I’m sorry, I was just kind of lost in the game...  I’ll try to do better the rest of the game, okay, guys?”  Hopefully, apologizing will bring some empathy for Jerry’s situation that Aaron had mentioned, whatever that was.  It worked, and feeling a bit guilty, the three nodded, then walked to get their water bottles.  Sam heaved a huge sigh of relief and hoped that he would have the right things to say for the rest of the game, thinking back to his days of high-school basketball...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The game ended, to Sam’s delight, in favor of University of Calgary at a score of thirteen to eleven.  He was in the locker room, hoping that this was how the original history played out, or even better, that he was there only to change the score and would leap out soon.  That didn’t seem likely.  His arm was aching from just four ends of play and wasn’t sure if he had to play another game that he could make it through.

Sam was tired.  It felt like he had been leaping his whole life, but he knew better than that, he could only leap during his whole life.  It had been more like, what, eight years?  Ten years?  Al rarely ever gave an indication as to the date of the present. 

He wasn’t only tired from the exercise this specific leap had given him, but he was tired of leaping in general.  Al, the strange bartender, had said the leaps were going to only get harder, and boy, did they ever!  They still were.  The bartender also said that even priests “take sabbaticals”.  He remembered it was a long time after that before he leaped again...  Was it time for another sabbatical?  All Dr. Sam Beckett wanted to do at that moment was go home, even just for a little while.

“Hey, Jer’, why looking so glum?” asked Mark as he approached, interrupting Sam’s homesick thoughts.  “Red Deer isn’t such a bad place,” he kidded, but then became serious.  “You still got her on your mind?”

‘Ah,’ Sam thought, deducing from the vocal tone, ‘Jerry must have recently broken up with his girlfriend.  Either that or someone close to him died.’  He met Mark’s gaze and nodded lightly, wanting to change to the subject of something he knew about, which was probably few and far between.

Mark sat down beside him on the bench and punched Sam playfully in the arm.  “I know she’s just down at the college, but don’t let the closeness get to ya.  We’ll be going back to Calgary tonight, but first, I gotta take you guys to this great place on 48^th Street.  It has food that you’ll drool over!”  At that moment, Sam realized that he hadn’t had any food since he leaped in and was quite hungry.  The mention of eating brought his attention to his stomach and he laughed at Mark’s description.  “Sure, that sounds great,” the leaper replied.  Mark gave him a smile and got up, leaving the locker room.

Alone again, Sam picked up what was labeled as Jerry’s gym bag and quickly changed into the fresh-smelling clothes inside.  They were almost a tight fit, but Sam felt comfortable enough.  At least he got to wear sneakers during this leap!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Outside in the parking lot of the arena, Sam felt like he was going to freeze to death.  Al wasn’t killing when he said that it felt like it was below zero on the Fahrenheit scale!  The four curlers followed their coach to his car, a sleek restored 1973 Pontiac Firebird, painted yellow, and he congratulated them again on the win as he let the sports car warm up.  After some small talk, he said, “I’ll see you guys on Sunday afternoon for practice.  We have the final round of qualifications on Monday back here in Red Deer, so we gotta do some fine-tuning!”  Driving away, he rolled up his window, and the four of them waved goodbye to the grizzled coach.  Sam certainly hoped that he would leap before Sunday.

“Shotgun!” called out Aaron as they walked toward a 1998 Toyota Camry and ran up to the passenger’s door as Earl unlocked it using a keyless remote on his key chain.  Sam has never seen that before, and he stared in awe as the taillights blinked and the horn sounded a quick honk.  The scientist, who always prided himself on being up-to-date with the newest gadgets, suddenly realized that he had certainly missed out on the advances of technology in the past handful of years.

Earl started up the car and let it sit for a few moments.  On the radio, “Butterfly” by Crazy Town was playing and Aaron sang along quietly as the other three sat in silence, trying to warm themselves up by hugging their arms close and rubbing them with their hands.  Once Earl felt the automobile was sufficiently warmed up, he backed out of the parking spot and drove out onto the road.

“So, where’re we going?  I’m starving,” the driver commented, looking in the rear-view mirror for options.

“I was telling Jerry that we’d go to this restaurant I know on 48^th Street,” Mark piped up.  “It has the best Italian food in all of Alberta!”  Aaron and Earl nodded in approval, and Sam was never one to pass up Italian food, so it was agreed.  Thankfully, it didn’t look like it had snowed in the past few days, so the roads, despite being busy for Friday-night traffic, were clear, and they pulled into the parking lot of Mama Gina’s Taste of Italy.  Although they didn’t want to get out of the warmth of the car, the foursome departed and walked briskly toward the front door.

They made their way through the double doors and into the small parlor, where they were greeted by a middle-aged Italian man who promptly took them to a table.  “A server will be with you shortly,” he said with a slight accent and returned to his post at the front door.

Mark and Aaron started talking about what Sam guessed was politics, based on the remarks about hospitals and education, and Earl just looked off into space as if he didn’t care for the topic and didn’t have anything to say to Sam.  A couple of minutes passed and a waitress approached their table.  “Good evening, guys,” she greeted and handed them the menus.  “Would you like something to drink to start?”

“Yeah, we’ll have a round of Alexander Keith’s,” Aaron requested as she nodded and left as quickly as she arrived.  Dr. Beckett wasn’t sure what this was, but he shrugged it off and figured it was some kind of alcoholic drink.

Observing the puzzled look on Sam’s face, Earl asked, “What’s wrong?  You don’t like Keith’s anymore?”  His tone was accusational and bordering on harsh.  “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri instead?”  The sarcasm was laden in his words and it appeared Sam wasn’t alone in finding Earl’s attitude to be uncalled for.

Sam heard the sound of the Imaging Chamber Door open, but ignored it for the time being as it seemed to him that this argument was more important.  “What the Hell is wrong with you, Earl?!” Aaron interjected.  “Do you have a problem with Jerry?  Or does this have something to do with Lydia?”

“Yeah, I have a problem with both!” Earl shouted, getting looks from other patrons, but he quickly realized his outburst and settled down.  “Everything was fine until you two broke up,” he hissed quietly, but before he could continue, a shadow fell over the table, and they all looked up to see a confused-looking woman in her fifties staring at Earl.

“Rudolph Maximillian Earl!  What on God’s green Earth has gotten into you?”  There’s nothing worse than an angry mother.

PART THREE

The four men sitting at the table all stared dumbfoundedly at Earl’s mother as Al started punching in data for Ziggy to digest now that they had somebody’s full name, after quipping, “Uh oh, somebody’s in trouble!  She used his whole name.”

“M-Mom, what are you doing here?” Earl sputtered out, probably more confused than any of his teammates.  “I thought you and Dad went to Banff this weekend.”

Mrs. Earl, a woman of medium height and a little extra weight, glared at her son.  “Your brilliant father forgot to book off work, so we decided to come up to Red Deer and visit your aunt and uncle for the night.  We figured there wasn’t enough time to see you play, so we drove around until we found a new restaurant.”  She waved her arm at the table where she was sitting, and three people smiled over at her and Earl, presumably his father, aunt, and uncle.  “It’s just a coincidence that I, along with everyone else in the restaurant, heard your little outburst.”  Her tone was not pleasant.

“Ooo, she’s mad, Sam!” the observer noted, grinning slightly as he maneuvered around the table.  There was silence for a moment, except for the tweeting of the handlink.  Al’s face lit up as some information poured in.

“Well, there’s no point in making a bigger scene,” she said, speaking quieter.  “Why don’t you and your friends join us, Rudy?  You can make the introductions over at our table.”  Mrs. Earl’s demeanor softened a bit and she walked away.

Mark and Aaron exchanged glances and burst out laughing.  “Rudy?” they questioned in a chorus. Earl blushed.  Sam smiled and noticed Admiral Calavicci’s “I-have-some-news-for-you” expression.  The leaper needed an excuse to be alone.  “Uh, hey guys, I’m going to...”

“Oh, Sam, not the bathroom again!  Can’t you say you’re going out for a smoke or something?” the admiral complained as he dropped the handlink in his pants pocket.

Getting a little enjoyment out of Al’s criticism, Sam finished, “go to the bathroom.  I’ll be right back.”  Jerry’s teammates all nodded and began gathering up their things to move to the other table.  The leaper watched as a waiter brought a table beside the Earls’ and another waiter dragged over four chairs.

Walking down the hallway to the bathrooms, Al stopped.  “How about here?  I feel much less of a...” he commented, pausing a moment to watch a voluptuous waitress walk by, “a, um, what was I going to say?  Oh yeah, much less of a pervert.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Sam sneered but stopped nonetheless.  “Now what’s Ziggy got for me?”

Clearing his throat, Al pulled the handlink back out of his pocket and punched a couple of keys.  “Ziggy’s found out that you’re here to keep something more important than Jerry’s curling career.  It turns out that tonight, Jerry and his three teammates out there head back to Calgary in Earl’s car and end up in a ditch.”

“That’s it?  I’m here to keep them from going off the road?  Can’t I just offer to drive, or something?”

“No, Sam, that’s not it.  Don’t jump to conclusions,” the observer warned with levity in his voice.  “Anyway, they end up in a ditch, nobody’s hurt.  However, it hurts the relationship between Earl and Jerry even more since Jerry did offer to drive and was at the wheel when they slipped on some black ice.  Tomorrow night, they went to a club in Calgary and the police arrest Earl for... well, Sam, you won’t believe this, but,” Al said, his expression darkening, “he’s imprisoned for the third-degree murder of Aaron de Witte.”

Frowning, Sam let out his catchphrase.  “Oh, boy.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

        Back at the table, now seating seven, Earl, Aaron, and Mark were settling down.  “Everybody, these are my teammates:  Aaron, the second, Mark, the first, and...” he paused as he saw Sam returning to the table, “Jerry, our skip.”  Nobody really noticed the concerned look on Sam’s face, although they all saw Jerry’s face instead anyway.  He sat down beside Mark and smiled at everyone.  “Although you already know him,” he said sourly to his aunt and uncle who stared at Sam with a look of surprise mixed with distaste.  Changing gears, Earl continued the introductions.  “Guys, this is my mom, my dad, my aunt Collette, and my uncle Jack.”  Everybody at the table exchanged hellos and nice-to-meet-yous.  The only exception was Earl’s aunt and uncle who didn’t look at Sam again for the rest of the night.

        “Well, isn’t this just a strange coincidence?” Collette Earl commented, seeming as though she was actively ignoring Sam.  “You should have let us know you were curling tonight, Rudy,” she said, and Aaron and Mark held back snickers.  “We would have loved to see you play!”

Earl smirked and nodded.  “Yeah, I really should have.”  Before any more conversation could be made, a waitress, the same one Al had been ogling, came up to the table, also getting notice from the three university students.  “Are you folks all ready to order?” she asked politely, looking to Sam first.

Gazing around, Sam saw that the rest of the party had already closed their menus, and not wanting to hold things up, he said, “Uh, uh, spaghetti, please.”  The waitress gave Sam a smile and wrote down the order on her pad.  The other seven gave their orders and she collected the menus.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Idle small talk was made while they awaited their drinks and their food.  During the meal, Al ooed and awed at the magnificence of the pastas and panzerottis, and even more so at the desserts that everybody ordered afterward.  After paying the check and enjoying a cappuccino, Earl’s family stood up.  “Don’t leave already on our account; we’re heading back to Edmonton now,” Mr. Earl said.

“Nah, I think we’re going back to Calgary now anyway, Dad,” Earl responded, standing up and putting on his coat.  Sam, Mark, and Aaron followed suit and tried not to infringe upon Earl’s bidding good-bye to his parents and aunt and uncle.  The nine of them, eight diners and one hologram, walked out to the parking lot, each person who was physically there zipping up their coats tightly and wrapping scarves around their necks and mouths.  The blast of cold air was uncustomary to Sam, but everybody else seemed to take it in stride.  Of course, Al couldn’t feel the cold, but he shivered in pity for Sam.  It wasn’t snowing much, but the wind was very strong.

“Bye, guys!  Drive safe!” Uncle Jack called through the howling wind they headed for their car on the opposite end of the parking lot.  The four curlers returned the statement.  Sam sure hoped they would drive safe.  Unfortunately, the quantum physicist seemed to be the only one besides Jack who didn’t have more than one drink during their mid-evening dinner.  Apparently Jerry being designated driver had been pre-arranged, and Sam’s theory of that was proven when, as they approached the car, Earl dumped his car keys into the leaper’s hand.

“You know how to use a car, right?  You’re not gonna slip on the ice with this big ol’ thing?” he said with contempt.  Ignoring the comment, Sam gripped the keys and walked toward the driver’s side door.  Earl immediately walked toward the passenger’s door.  Sam fumbled with unlocking the door, trying to find the right key.  “What’s the matter with you?  Use the remote!”  Earl complained.

Once again, the fascinating technology to the time-traveler perplexed him, but seeing “LOCK” and “UNLOCK” clearly labeled on the small, black device, the car opened and all four men hopped inside as quickly as they could.  Trembling from the cold, they were speechless as the car warmed up, their teeth chattering and their legs rubbing together for warmth.  It had gotten colder than before and Sam was concerned.  “M-maybe we shouldn’t head back to C-Calgary tonight,” he suggested, the cold stuttering his speech.  “The roads could be bad.  C-couldn’t we s-stay with your aunt and-d uncle?”  As soon as the word were out of his mouth, he remembered the way they looked at Sam and ignored him through dinner, although being shunned would be better than spending the night in a ditch.

Earl looked bewildered.  “Yeah, right!  First of all, they live in an apartment that’s barely big enough for them!  Not to mention who their daughter is!”  Rolling his eyes, he turned to look out the window and was trying his hardest to make Sam feel ignored.  Again.  At that, however, Al started punching at the handlink, probably dredging up more information from Ziggy.

“We g-gotta go back tonight, man,” Mark said calmly, trying to make up for Earl’s harshness.  “If I’m not back, Trisha’s g-gonna worry about me.”  Aaron smiled and made a whipping sound.  Mark, taking offence, punched him in the arm.

“You don’t have a choice, Sam.  Either you’ll hit a patch of ice and spend a couple hours in a ditch, or these guys will leave you here and head back themselves.  If we’re lucky, maybe you’ll change history and make it home safe and sound,” observed Al.

“Yeah, you’re right,” answered the leaper, generally responding to everybody who had protested his suggestion.  Putting the car in reverse, he backed out of the parking space, and followed Al’s instructions to get to Highway 2A.  The observer had planned out a new route on more-used roads than the shorter way that the boys had originally taken.  Nobody objected to that, at least.

After warming up physically, Earl seemed to do so emotionally as well.  The admiral had offered that perhaps it was the four beers he’d had at dinner.  All the same, the four of them were making friendly conversation...  until they passed Red Deer College.  Suddenly, everybody but Sam clammed up and stared out their windows, intent on making no more conversation.  Very confused, Sam could do nothing but keep on driving.  Once they got onto Highway 2, the guys started talking again.  Earl seemed more distant than ever but after about a quarter-hour of driving, they were all jubilant and conversational.  At least it would keep Sam awake and alert to drive.  It was just as well:  the leaper didn’t recognize any of the music and was afraid to change the station for fear of retribution from his passengers.

It was dark out, and had been for a couple of hours, which didn’t help Sam in spotting this “black ice” that Al mentioned.  Additionally, it made the drive feel longer along with the scientist’s careful driving.  Even the discussion going on in the vehicle didn’t seem to speed things up, but at least it kept Dr. Beckett from boredom.

The observer said he would stick with Sam until they got in the city, and did so, even though he took a quick nap on the Imaging Chamber’s floor and was silent for most of the time he was awake.  Dr. Beckett, realizing that everybody in the present has aged about a decade since he left, didn’t give Al any hardships about the napping and yawning.  If they’d gone off the road, he trusted his best friend enough to wake up and give whatever help he could.

City lights were a welcome change as the brightness of Calgary International Airport came into view.  “All right, home sweet home,” Aaron said sarcastically.  Sam knew how most people felt about school, and it seemed these fellows were no different.  They realized the importance of education, but didn’t necessarily enjoy being educated full-time.  When he was in school, on the other hand, it didn’t seem he could learn enough.  Dr. Beckett didn’t make many friends being sixteen years of age and a freshman in college, so the natural course of action was to immerse himself in his studies.  It certainly paid off, otherwise he probably would never have started Project Quantum Leap and ended up lost in time.  Sometimes Sam thought it might be nice to leap back to M.I.T. and teach himself to have a good time, when his Swiss-cheesed memory allowed him to remember his college days.

The handlink made some bleeping noises and Al announced, “All right, Sam, it looks like we’ve avoided the accident!  Not only that, but the odds of Earl accidentally killing Mark has gone down ten percent.”  Dr. Beckett breathed a sigh of relief.  “You’ll want to take the exit up here at Highway 1, the Trans-Canada Highway.  All four of you live at the on-campus residence, and you can’t miss the university.  It’ll be on your right,” the observer piped up, obviously in bad need of coffee, bed, or both.

“Are you leaving?” he said as quietly as he could, disappointed that his contact with present time was leaving.

“Sorry, buddy, but I think I need some shut-eye if I’m going to be able to function tomorrow.  It’s the middle of the day here, but an observer’s work is never done.”  The admiral punched a couple of buttons on the handlink.  The Imaging Chamber Door whooshed open behind him and the white rectangle of light distracted Sam from the road for a moment, but it closed with the silhouette of Al Calavicci waggling his fingers in good-bye to his time-traveling associate.

As per Al’s driving directions, Sam delivered everybody safely back to the university.  It was past midnight and the guys looked as tired as Al did.  Luckily, signs clearly marked the way to residence parking and there were quite a few open parking spots.  “Whew,” the leaper breathed as he turned off the car, handing the keys back to Earl.

“Thanks for driving us, man.  Sorry I was so hard on you earlier, but don’t think that makes up for what you did,” the car’s owner told him, first sounding friendly but then becoming adversarial.  Still confused, Sam opened his door.

Everyone departed from the vehicle and grabbed their bags from the trunk.  Sam hoped that at least one of the guys was his roommate and, since they were all sticking together as they walked to the entrance and walked through the foyer.  It looked like he was in luck.  The four of them apparently all lived together in a suite-style room, which included four separate bedrooms, a kitchen area, a bathroom, and a small living space.  Kicking off their shoes, Jerry’s roommates/teammates each walked to their bedroom.  Another stroke of luck!  Sam now knew which room was his for the present and headed straight for it.  Every little bit can help on a leap, if anything it will keep everybody from suspecting Jerry McCormick is not himself today.

Entering Jerry’s room, Sam found a typical university student’s living quarters:  clothing strewn on the floor, papers scattered on a desk on top of a computer keyboard accented by opened textbooks, and movie posters tacked up on the walls.  Closing the door behind him, the time-traveler placed the gym bag in Jerry’s closet and stripped down to his underwear.  Hopefully, Sam thought, there are some looser clothes in the closet.  He would look tomorrow, as exhaustion took over and he slipped under the covers, nestling his head into the comfortable pillow.

PART FOUR

Friday, March 4, 2005

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

It was early evening now, and Al had gotten about four hours of rest.  “I need to start getting more sleep,” the miserable admiral mumbled to himself as he woke up.  “Either that or I get Tina to silence Ziggy’s alarm.”  He didn’t awaken voluntarily.  The parallel-hybrid computer sounded a klaxon to indicate that Dr. Beckett had leaped out.

“What is it, Ziggy?” he demanded, the specific sound not registering completely in his tired brain.

“Dr. Beckett has leaped out of Jerry McCormick, Admiral,” the computer cooed in response.  “Additionally, you have a dinner-date with your wife in approximately one half-hour.”

Both seemed to startle Al.  “Sam leaped?” he questioned immediately.  “When?  How did history change?”

There was a slight pause, as if the computer was preparing to say something dire.  “The only difference is that Dr. Beckett put off the timing of the automobile accident:  it seems that around 03:45 Mountain Standard Time, Jerry McCormick and Rudolph Earl slid off the highway, with Mr. Earl at the wheel.  This appears to have been a catalyst in the death of Mark de Witte, as he was still killed the following night.”

Al breathed out a heavy sigh.  “So Sam didn’t change history at all, is what you’re saying?”  Before Ziggy could answer, the admiral spoke up again, knowing what her answer would be.  “Never mind.  You know what I mean.”  He was met by silence.  “Ziggy?”

“Yes, Admiral?” the computer replied silkily.

Admiral Calavicci shook his head, deciding he shouldn’t get into a philosophical discussion at the moment.  “Nothing.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ziggy answered.  Al got out of bed, disrobed, and took a quick shower before putting on clothes fresh from the closet.  He went with something a little more intimate, looking forward to dinner with his wife.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

        Fifteen minutes later, Beth Calavicci met her husband in the parking garage of Project Quantum Leap.  Seeing him leaning up against the red sports car, she grinned.  “Ready to go, fly boy?” she said charmingly, getting a wolf whistle from Al as she approached the car.

        “Only if I get to keep you all night,” he responded lecherously.  Then he half-whispered, almost mystified by her appearance, “You look beautiful, Beth.”  That she did.  It was a warmer-than-usual March, and Beth’s midnight-blue dress accentuated her curves.  In Al’s mind, her body was still perfect, but it was her mind and soul that he loved in the end.  As long as they were together, Al would survive anything.

        Mrs. Calavicci smiled, blushing slightly.  “You don’t look too bad yourself.”  After a brief kiss, she asked, “Where are we going, anyway?”

        Opening the door for his wife, he said, “I thought we’d go to a new restaurant that opened in Albuquerque.”  Shutting the door, he walked around the front of the automobile and got into the driver’s seat.  “And then?” she asked, an impish grin crossing her face.

        “And then...” Al continued, “then, we’ll go home to Stallion Springs and curl up by the fireplace.”  They both pictured it in their minds:  they hadn’t been home in almost two weeks.  Living at the Quantum Leap complex was much easier sometimes, but there was something to be said about sleeping above ground once in a while.  Al put the car in gear and pulled out of the garage.

        “Sounds great to me,” she agreed, and they left the complex grounds, heading toward a well-deserved evening to themselves.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday, March 24, 2001

University of Calgary

Calgary, Alberta

When Sam awoke, he felt more rested than he had in a long time.  Glancing at the alarm clock, he noticed that he’d gotten just less than eight hours of sleep.  Rubbing his eyes and stretching out, the leaper tossed back the covers and sat up.  Something was amiss.  As Sam looked around the room, it seemed different somehow. 

First of all, he remembered distinctively taking off his boots when he came in the front door and leaving them on the mat there.  They were now at the foot of the bed, a pool of melted snow and ice making the carpet soggy.  Secondly, his coat was on the end of the bed, whereas before he thought he’d draped it over the desk chair.

Shaking his head, Dr. Beckett got up and, not hearing any other signs of life in the suite, grabbed one of Jerry’s towels and took a shower, bordering on ten minutes of the hot water washing over his body.  Sam caught the first glance of his host in the bathroom mirror.  Jerry was a handsome young man with short dark hair and green eyes.  To the leaper’s relief, the hairstyle was nothing like “Spike” from the other team and required a simple combing.

Returning to Jerry’s room, Sam found some looser-fitting clothes that what he had worn yesterday and got dressed.  He didn’t feel hungry, so he started sorting out Jerry’s desk.  Maybe he could do some homework for the guy so he wouldn’t be so behind whenever they exchanged auras again.

Fortunately, some of the courses Jerry was taking resembled some of Sam’s medical ones, and the seven-doctorate scientist was able to finish the assignments for those courses within a couple of hours.

Just as he was putting the finishing touches on a question about the hippocampus, his stomach rumbled, and he realized that now he was hungry.  All of that schoolwork had kept him busy and his mind working, making him forget about his appetite.  Standing up from the chair, he opened Jerry’s door and went out into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Mark and Aaron were up now, both enjoying a bowl of cereal each.  “G’morning, Jer’,” Aaron greeted.  Mark gave Sam a nod.  Aaron had pretty short hair that seemed to require little maintenance, but Mark’s was sticking out in all directions, looking in bad need of a combing.

“Morning, guys,” he answered, glancing at the box of corn flakes on the table.  Both of the young men were eating the same thing, and it was then that Sam saw a dietary list posted on the refrigerator.  Presumably, the coach had put them on some kind of diet routine.  That sounded kind of extreme to Sam, considering curling didn’t seem to take too much athletic ability.  However, he was feeling a bit stiff from his antics yesterday, so he thought perhaps he shouldn’t generalize the game like that.

Grabbing a bowl of his own from the cupboard, Dr. Beckett dumped in some corn flakes and poured milk overtop.  He found a spoon in the dish-drying rack and sat down at the kitchen table with the two sleepy-looking students.

No conversation ensued as they all munched on their breakfasts.  A few minutes later, the fourth roommate was up.  Earl said nothing as he stumbled into the kitchen and fixed his own bowl of corn flakes.  ‘At least they stick to their diet,’ Sam thought, realizing how truly dedicated they were to their sport.

“Good morning, Earl,” Dr. Beckett said, trying to be friendly.  A grunt was the response, and the other two guys shifted uneasily.  Not a morning person, perhaps?  Sam let a few more minutes pass before trying to make any more conversation.  “There’s something to be said about a good night’s sleep, eh, guys?”

Aaron and Mark gave affirmative responses while Earl, dropping his spoon into his bowl, looked at Sam with surprise as if the leaper was letting out the biggest secret in the world.  Dr. Beckett shrank back a bit and suddenly found his cereal to be quite interesting, keeping an eye on it as he hastily finished it off.  As he got up and put it in the sink, Aaron and Mark did the same.  Sam backed up to get out of the way and Earl grabbed his arm to get his attention.  Meeting each other’s gazes, Earl stared hard at him and shook his head.

Unsure as to what was wrong with Earl, the time-traveler nodded at Jerry’s strange teammate just to humor him, and then went back to Jerry’s room.  He turned the knob to open the bedroom door when a door of the holographic kind opened before him.

“Sam!  Thank God you’re here!” Al cried, closing the Imaging Chamber Door behind him, and Sam closed the bedroom door, giving them privacy, while asking his observer what was the matter.

The observer was confused.  “Whaddya mean, ‘What’s wrong?’ Sam?  You don’t remember leaping out last night?  It’s taken us almost three hours to find you!”

Now it was the leaper’s turn to be puzzled.  “Leap?  I didn’t leap last night.  I had a restful sleep right here in Jerry’s bed!”  The two men looked at each other incredulously, knowing that one of them was right, but not sure which one.  Al had the technology to verify, and he brought it up on the handlink, shoving it in Sam’s face.  “See?  You leaped out nearly two days ago, from our perspective.  That’s at one o’clock last night, about seven-and-a-half hours ago, for you.”

Befuddled, the time-traveler shook his head.  “How could that be, Al?  I feel so rested...  I don’t remember being woken up or dreaming or anything.”

“Well, sorry to break it to ya, pal, but you leaped.  And because you did, Earl and you went for a little joyride and ended up sliding off the highway at four in the morning.  Mark still got murdered...  well, that was before you leaped back here.  Now, he still gets murdered.  Tonight.  Ninety-five-point-three percent chance now.”  Al put the handlink back in his pocket and crossed his arms.

“Ninety-five?  It was eighty yesterday!”  Sam felt outraged.  How could he have leaped without his knowing?  He couldn’t recall that ever happening before...  then again, he wouldn’t if he was sleeping or otherwise unconscious.

Al nodded and then shrugged.  “I dunno, Sam, but its ninety-five now.  If you hadn’t leaped, you wouldn’t have gone out in the middle of the night and increased Mark’s odds of dying.”

Sam got defensive.  “That wasn’t exactly up to me, Al!”  The two men turned their backs to each other, giving themselves some time to think without arguing.  “All right.  Maybe I did leap.  That would explain the wet boots and the coat being moved,” the scientist conceded.  The admiral turned around and glanced where Sam had indicated.

“Well, if anything, it was a blessing.  Kind of.  It gave us some time to run more scenarios by Ziggy.  Somehow, I knew you would leap back here.  There was no way it could be over.  St. John and Tina didn’t believe me, but I made them and Sammy Jo keep working as if you were here,” the observer explained.  “Unfortunately, we didn’t really get any other objectives beside saving Mark.  That is, unless you know of a way to prevent earthquakes and typhoons in far-off countries.”

Dr. Beckett nodded, rolling his eyes at Al’s comment about the natural disasters, nevertheless cooling down somewhat.  “All right.  So I leaped out.  That would explain why Earl was acting to strange at breakfast:  something must have happened last night, and him and Jerry ended up taking the car out, which resulted in...”

“Getting ditched, if you will, Sam,” Al finished, smirking tackily at the pun. 

Sam expressed a grimace but continued on.  “What could they have been doing out there in the middle of the night?”  Admiral Calavicci shrugged and waved the handlink around, demonstrating that they didn’t know either.

Even after last night’s supposed sleep, Sam was feeling tense now, and he sat down at the desk.  He watched Al poking at the handlink.  “In any event, Sam, Ziggy says that you might want to take a look at Jerry’s computer.  Apparently, the cops confiscated it to find any evidence for tonight’s murder, trying to prove it as man-slaughter, and he keeps a diary on his computer.”

Luckily, Jerry left his computer on, so after switching on the monitor, Sam used the mouse to find the journal program.  It came up on the screen after some help from Al giving him the program name.

“Who is he, Doogie Howser?” Sam asked aloud, getting a chuckle out of the observer.

“You remember that show, Sam?  I always said that he was like you, just graduating a little younger,” Al said reminiscently.

“Very funny, Al,” the leaper replied, laughing a bit, but then turning serious as he began reading the journal.  “Al, I don’t know if I can do this.  These are his personal thoughts and feelings, the events of his life.”

The observer, having heard this before, thought, ‘Here we go again.’

“Look, Sam.  Basically, you are Jerry McCormick right now.  If we don’t read this, we may never get the information we need to possibly prevent Mark’s murder.  I’d say it’s a damned good reason to ‘invade’ his privacy.”

Nodding his head, the leaper continued reading on, but still felt guilty about it.  After about five minutes of reading backward through the log, Dr. Beckett called out to his observer.  “Aaron mentioned the name Lydia last night.  Apparently she and Jerry broke up two days ago, and Jerry wrote here that it was on good terms.”

Keying in that information into the handlink, Al raised his eyebrows at the results.  “That would explain why Earl’s been acting so hostile toward you, Sam.  Lydia is Earl’s cousin.”

“You got any more information on her?” Sam asked, thinking this might be another task for the leap.

“Yeah, Lydia Irene Earl, born June 3, 1982.  Her parents are Collette and Jackson Earl and they live in Red Deer,” Al relayed.

“I met them last night, Al!  They’re Earl’s aunt and uncle,” Sam piped up.  That explained their strange behavior, anyway.

The observer nodded, noting the comment.  “Also, she currently attends Red Deer College.  Do you think she might have something to do with last night’s little drive?  Maybe the break-up wasn’t on as good terms as Jerry thinks.”

Sam shook his head, unsure of what to think.  “Who knows, Al?  I just don’t understand why Earl is so mad at me, er, Jerry.  Both of us, I guess.  Maybe he’s just protective of his cousin?”

“That’s a possibility.  I guess the only way to find out is to ask Earl himself,” the admiral suggested.

The leaper didn’t relish that idea, especially after the way he acted at the breakfast table.  “What about Jerry?  Have you tried asking him?”

Al didn’t like that idea either.  The visitors rarely remembered what they needed them to with the Swiss-cheese effect, which also played havoc on Sam’s memory.  “I can get Verbena on it, Sam,” he said, hitting buttons on the handlink to page the project’s psychiatrist to the Waiting Room.  “I’ll have to go talk to her, though.  You just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”  Before the leaper could protest, Al opened the door back to his time and stepped through, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts once again.

PART FIVE

Sunday, March 6, 2005

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

When Dr. Verbena Beeks was summoned to the Waiting Room by Ziggy, she got up from her couch and clicked off the television.  “I never get to watch a movie to the end around here,” she mumbled, heading out of her quarters.

Admiral Calavicci was waiting for the psychiatrist outside of the large door to the Waiting Room.  “Under a minute; good time, ‘Bena,” he commented, glancing at his watch, whose time told it was shortly before midnight.

“What’s wrong, Al?  I was in the middle of something.”  What that something was, Verbena wouldn’t tell.

Al twitched his mouth quickly and responded, “We need some information from Jerry.  Sam found out that he and his girlfriend broke up a couple nights ago and she’s Earl’s cousin which might explain why he was acting like such a nozzle toward Sam.”

Dr. Beeks nodded and pressed the keypad to open the door.  “Care to come with me?” she offered, and Al accepted, realizing that there might not be enough time to explain everything to the doctor, and time was always of the utmost importance in their business.

The two strode up the ramp to the center of the room, a pair of eyes watching their every move as they approached Jerry McCormick.

“Hello again, Dr. Beeks,” Jerry greeted.  Glancing at Al in his outrageous outfit, he nodded a salutation.

“Hi Jerry,” she answered.  “This is Al, and he’s going to ask you a few questions about yourself.  Are you comfortable with that?”

Jerry took another look at the observer, and judging him harmless, agreed to answer some questions.  “Sure, why not?  I was starting to get bored in here, to tell you the truth.”

“I don’t blame ya, kid,” Al quipped, getting a sharp look from Verbena.  “Anyway, I just have a couple things to ask you, Jerry.  First of all, do you know who Lydia is?”

A shadow passed over the leapee’s face.  “Yeah.  She’s my ex-girlfriend.  Why?  What do you want to know about her?”

Trying to show no emotion, Al continued on.  “Well, you know who Earl is, right?”  The visitor remembered this person too and indicated as such.  “Could you tell me why Earl is so mad at you?”

Jerry narrowed his eyes, switching his gaze to Verbena.  “Wait a minute, Doc.  You never said he’d be asking me such personal questions!”

The psychiatrist bobbed her head and put a hand on the visitor’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.  But, we need to know the answers to whatever Al asks you, Jerry.  It’s very important.”

Just the tone in the doctor’s voice gave Jerry a reason to trust her and turned back to Al.  “Why’s Earl mad at me?  He’s mad because he set me and Lydia up.  That’s it.  We realized that we shouldn’t keep going out, and he went ballistic.  Mark said he heard Earl on the phone with Lydia’s mom, telling her that I broke up with Lydia and had been using her.”

The admiral paid close attention to his words and his body language.  He was telling the truth, as far as Al could tell, and it fit in perfectly with what Ziggy had come up with.  “Do you think Earl would ever have a reason to hurt Mark, physically?” the observer asked.

Taken aback, the leapee’s expression became shocked.  “No way, I don’t think Earl would ever attack someone!  He might have a bad attitude, but he’s by no means violent.”

Al, feeling that he had enough information, punched a couple of buttons on the handlink.  “Thank you, Jerry.  That’s all very helpful.”  Flashing a smile at the visitor and then the psychiatrist, the observer turned and left to return to the Control Room to run more scenarios by Ziggy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday, March 24, 2001

University of Calgary

Calgary, Alberta

Sam spent most of the day reading Jerry’s journal, enthralled with the recent events in the young man’s life and wanting to learn more about the person he had leaped into.  Hopefully, it would also give him some insight into his roommates.  Jerry had apparently attended high school with Mark and Aaron all four years and they all became mutual friends with Earl in their last year, which explained how the four of them were rooming together.

Further reading revealed that it was Earl who had fixed Jerry up with Lydia, and after a happy ten months of dating, they realized that they had never grown close and would just remain friends.  Jerry was depressed by it, but felt it was better than to continue with a sham relationship.  Mark had overheard a telephone conversation between Earl and his aunt Collette where he told lies about the break-up.  The leaper realized that was why she and Jack had ignored him last night at dinner.

Darkness had settled in the city when Sam next looked out the window.  Closing the journal program, he picked up a magazine and started reading.  While he read, the leaper heard three showers take place right in a row.  Dr. Beckett was on his fourth magazine when a knock came on his door.

“Come in,” he answered, standing up.  It was Aaron, looking freshly bathed and ready for a night of partying.

Aaron looked somewhat surprised.  “You still coming out with us tonight, man?  We’re going to the new club that’s opening...  the bathroom’s free and we’re all ready to go.”

Realizing that Mark was going to end up dead if he went out to the club tonight, Sam answered, “How about we do something different tonight?  We could go play pool, or go see a movie...”

“Are you kidding?  The whole floor’s going out tonight.  If we don’t go, we’ll look like a bunch of shut-ins.  You can stay behind if ya want, but I know us three need a break before tomorrow’s practice.”  Aaron was concerned about Jerry’s response, knowing that he is normally a social person.

Sam’s thoughts began racing, trying to figure out what would be the best course of action.  Deciding that being with Mark and Earl would probably give the greatest chance of saving a life, the leaper backtracked.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Just gimme a minute and I’ll be ready.”  Aaron nodded and closed the door behind him.

Quickly, the time-traveler threw open the closet and skimmed over Jerry’s selection of clothing.  Finding what he thought closely resembled Aaron’s attire but didn’t make them look like twins, Sam changed and put on the funky clothes.  He also found a pair of black shoes that seemed more fitting than boots or runners and slipped them on his feet.

In the foyer, Jerry’s three roommates were putting on their coats and appeared ready to leave.  Sam did the same and the four of them met up with a few more foursomes in the hallway, all of them headed toward the bus stop.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday, March 24, 2001

Club Authentic

Calgary, Alberta

‘The public transit system must make most of its money on the weekends,’ Sam thought, as the packed bus headed toward Club Authentic, where apparently the majority of students from the residence were headed tonight.  Remembering his college days, he barely ever went out, especially since he was underage.  This was going to be as foreign to him as the game of curling.

When they had reached their destination, nearly thirty people departed from the bus, probably relieving the driver more than a warm cup of coffee.  It was still bitterly cold out and the leaper couldn’t believe how long the line-up was to get into this new nightclub.  “We’re gonna wait in that?” Sam said to Mark, amazed at the queue.

        “Hey, somebody’s gotta be one of the first to try it out, right?  It may as well be us!” he laughed.  Surprisingly, it didn’t take as long as they thought to get in, even with the bouncers checking everybody for weapons and scrutinizing everybody’s identification.  Sam could hear the music from outside and did not anticipate entering the club.  He was concerned about how such loud noises would affect the eardrums of all these people, but the thought of Mark losing his life tonight overtook that minor worry.

        After checking in their coats, the group entered the rocking club, and Sam was amazed at the dry-ice mist on the dance floor and the laser lights that flickered throughout the building.  It was warm not only from the building’s heating system but the many bodies dancing to the rhythm of the music.

        While the leaper had been looking around, his companions had all taken off, and a large white rectangle appeared in front of Sam, almost blinding him in contrast to the darkness of the club.

        “Sam, we got some definite information for you!” Al called loudly over the music, not even bothering to greet his friend.  “It looks like Jerry and Lydia broke up on good enough terms, but Earl didn’t like it, so he started spreading lies.  Mark overheard and told Jerry:  that’s probably why there’s an argument tonight that ends up deadly!”

        “I already know that, Al!” Sam answered, recalling what he had read in the diary.  “What am I supposed to do?”

        Appearing disappointed that the leaper had already discovered some of his information, the observer continued on anyway.  “Well, Jerry says that Earl wouldn’t get violent, so even if it was man slaughter, it must have been a real big mistake!  Not only that, but Ziggy says that this club goes bankrupt from the bad press of Mark’s death!”

        “I should stick with Mark and Earl, then, and make sure nothing happens!” Sam responded, glancing around at the crowd.  “I don’t know where they are though.”

        “St. John!  Center me on Earl or Mark!” the admiral called out, disappearing from Sam’s field of view.  When he reappeared, Al found himself at the bar where Earl, Aaron, and Mark were all just picking up their drinks.  “Sam!  Up here!”

        Unfortunately, Dr. Beckett could neither hear nor see his observer and continued walking around aimlessly, searching for Al’s trademark flashy garb.  Finally, Al returned.  “Follow me, Sam!” he ordered, passing through people as he walked toward the stairs that led to an upstairs bar above the dance floor.

        Pushing his way through the crowd, Sam did his best to keep Admiral Calavicci in his sight and made it to the bottom of the stairs.  “They’re up there, I hope,” Al commented and disappeared again at the touch of his handlink.  The leaper climbed the stairs and found the three men who had abandoned him.

        “Hey, where’d you guys go?” Sam asked, hurt by how they left him behind.

        “We came to get a drink...  I got you one, too, but we didn’t know you weren’t coming with us, Jer’,” Aaron answered, handing Sam a plastic cup filled with a liquid.  The time-traveler couldn’t tell in the dim light what it was.  “It’s just a rum-and-Coke,” Mark explained, noticing Sam’s perplexed expression.

        “Ahhh,” Dr. Beckett answered, taking a sip.  They sat down at a high table with high stools, awkwardly perched along the balcony above the dance floor, right beside one of the sets of stairs.  While the other three men watched below, Al rattled off the odds of what was up-and-coming.  “Sam, Ziggy is going bonkers here.  She’s saying that Mark’s death is almost definite now unless you do something!”

“I know, Al, I’ll do whatever I have to!”  Sam glanced around; suddenly feeling like someone was watching him.  His feeling was correct, as he turned with his back to the table, there was a pretty, young woman standing behind him, looking at him sadly.  “Hi, Jerry,” she said, trying to be expressionless but the sadness showed.

The observer became frantic.  “This must be Lydia!  Oh no, the odds just shot up another two points!  Get her outta here, Sam!”  Punching keys on the handlink, Al tried to get more information from Ziggy, trying to do anything to prevent the senseless death.

“Hi, Lydia,” the leaper responded slowly, recognizing her from some of Jerry’s photographs, and he stood from his stool.  Before he could do anything, he heard three more stools scrape on the ground and Earl stepped between them.

        “You get away from her!” he shouted at Sam.  “Haven’t you done enough to her already?  We already talked about this last night before we took that dive into the ditch!”

        “What about you, Earl?” Sam shot back at the angry man.  “You’re the one who called up her mother and told her lies about us!”  Earl blinked.  “Mark told me about that!” 

The shocked expression on Earl’s face stopped everyone for a moment, and his gaze fell upon Mark.  “I’ll kill you, you bastard!” he cried, lunging at his roommate who was standing right in front of the stairs.

        “Sam!  Stop him!” Al shouted out at the top of his lungs, realizing what was about to happen.  Sam Beckett, quick on his feet from many years of practicing the martial arts, moved his body between Mark and Earl, taking the brunt of the furious attack.  They both ended up in a heap on the floor, with Earl on top of Sam once again and Lydia let out a yelp. The crowd turned around to see what was going on, some laughing at the two men on the floor.  Blinking and looking up, Sam saw Mark started taking a few steps backward, perilously close to the stairway.

        “Mark, stop!” Sam hollered out, and just as the young man misplaced his foot in thin air, Aaron swiftly moved to catch his arm, saving Mark’s life for the second time within a few minutes.  Earl was stunned that Sam had moved so fast and was still laying on him, his gaze fixated on Mark, who was now white with fear.  “T-thanks... both of you,” Mark stuttered out, sitting on the ground.

A security team charged up the steps, yanking Earl up from off of Sam.  “You guys are going to have to leave,” one of the large bouncers stated.  “C’mon, on yer feet.”  The leaper felt himself being pulled up from the ground as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

        Outside, the wind was still whipping around, making things even more difficult between the four men and one woman, all standing in a circle.  Luckily, the security team said they wouldn’t call the police as long as they left peacefully.

“Look, Mark, I...” Earl started, obviously astonished at his actions.

        “You’re a prick, Earl!” Lydia yelled, interrupting her cousin.  “You were going to push him down the stairs!”

Mark was about to speak up when Sam put up his hands to silence everyone.  “I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson tonight:  don’t meddle in the affairs of others.”  He thought that was rather ironic, considering that’s exactly what he was doing here and had done with countless other life's.  “What I mean is, Lydia and I are grateful that you thought to introduce us to each other, Earl, but after that, it wasn’t up to you what happened with our relationship.  What happened was between us and had nothing to do with you.”  Everybody nodded at these words, even Al.

        “Mark had no right to tell me what you said on the phone, but you had no right to say that in the first place.”  Both Mark and Earl looked guilty, realizing that they both had done wrong.  However, Sam Beckett had helped them put it right again.  Everybody was quiet for a moment, reflecting on what could have happened that night.

        “Well,” Aaron said, breaking the silence and meeting a gaze with Sam, “how about we all go play some pool or go see a movie?”

        “Sounds good to me!” Earl voiced, getting a nod of approval from Mark.  The three of them plus Lydia began walking to the bus stop since it was still early enough to take one.  The leaper stayed behind a moment, watching them walk away as Al repositioned himself at Sam’s side.

        “You did a lot of good tonight, Sam,” the observer noted.

        Dr. Beckett, always modest, gave no response, but asked a question instead.  “After saving Mark’s life, what were Ziggy’s odds on that I was here to help Earl be rid of his guilt, Al?”

        Al hit a key on the handlink.  “One-hundred percent,” he answered, smiling.  “Now why don’t you go shoot some billiards or go see a movie?”

       "Sounds good to me," Sam answered, and as he started for the bus stop, he leaped.

EPILOGUE

As the Leaper's senses began to stir out of the Quantum mist, he was acutely aware of a deep roaring sound.  This he heard even before his Leap-in was fully complete and the veil of Quantum energy was still blanketing his other senses.  As the flux continued, he felt a vibration that to him could only mean that he was traveling in some kind of vehicle.  'A train, perhaps?' his befuddled mind theorized.

The next to be uncloaked was his sense of smell.  Wherever he was, it was hot; the air around him was desiccated and smelt of animals.  The only moisture he could feel came from his own hot and naked flesh.

"N—nak—ed!  No not again!" he murmured quietly as he felt at the flimsy material, the only thing covering his… nudity.  'Where the hell am I?' he demanded of himself and in tandem he speculated why his vision hadn't improved any.

The sound he'd heard earlier now resonated and vibrated to his very bones and he shifted slightly from his encumbered position.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red glow and instinctively his head turned towards it.

 'Least, now I know that wherever and whenever I am, it's almost 5 a.m.,' he empathized out of the gloom.  Vague outlines started to assemble themselves together; all touched with a faint red glow and lended themselves eerily into the darkness.  He then began to realize that he wasn't traveling anywhere but reclining on a bed and the sound that was deafening him was being discharged from someone, and that someone was lying next to him.

Doctor Beckett gasped inwardly when he realized that the explosive din couldn't possibly be that made by a female.

"Ooo…" the Leaper started to mutter but the heap next to him shifted, making him bounce very close to the edge and Sam froze in anticipation.  '…oohhh boooooy!' he finished off silently.

"You awake, 'gorge'?" the bulk aside him voiced gruffly in his sleep then a smack of lips as he rearranged his mouth.

As the man beside him began to settle, the strident snorts and braying wheezes kicked off afresh.  Sam turned slightly to view his bedmate but all he received was a lungful of sweet but putrid breath of stale alcohol.  The Leaper nearly choked on the stench and turned away abruptly but his movement stirred his unwanted companion, causing him to flop an arm heavily across his naked torso.

Again, Sam froze in fear of the unexpected and awaited his partner to settle once more.  The limb dead weighted across his chest and he could feel the sticky heat being vitiated onto his flesh, disgusting him.

Sam needed to get away, but to where?  He couldn't even make out the outline to the room, never mind see where the door was; it was so dark even with the faint glow of red.

The man shifted again and his hand started to encroach along Sam's chest, down his ribs and then further.

Sam cringed and stiffened when his hand reached past the top of his hip and resumed its constant trespass.

"Ooooohhhh n-noooo!" Doctor Beckett uttered silently.