PROLOGUE

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 bed mate 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.

PART ONE

"Knickers!" the lout snarled, snapping the elastic onto the Leaper's flesh and made him whine.  "Not again, not already?  Now git to sleep!  I'm s'pposed to be workin' in the mornin'!" the gruff voice called out at him and again wafted the sickening smell in Doctor Beckett's direction.  "If yer goin' to the carzy then git, and stop faffing about."  He hauled himself over and bounced several times before grunting, "Git!"  He then smacked his lips again before sighing. 

"I can't see," Sam grumbled, stating the obvious.  "Can I—will you turn the light on?" he asked quickly, not knowing where the light switch could be found.

"No!" came the opulent reply, making Doctor Beckett jump.

"But…"

"If yer don't know yer way by now, then there's no hope for yer—just git yer arse outta here, now!" he growled coarsely, cutting off Sam's words.

Doctor Beckett slinked out of the bed, feeling his way to the bottom and once there didn't know which way to turn for the door.  "Ouch!  Arghh!" he feigned, fabricating a stubbed toe, in the hope that his supine partner would assist and turn on the light.

"Of all the darnedest, stupidest cripples in this world—I end up with you!" he bawled out caustically as he jostled himself upright.  "If you ain't leaping over furniture and injuring yersel' then yer usin' that trap of yours, why the hell can't you keep that trap o' yours shut?  You can't do anything.  The place is like a pigsty!" he fumed and then grunted manically as he strained to reach for the bedside light.

'Cripple?' Sam thought as he squinted in the half-light that the feeble light bulb threw out and glanced forbearingly at his intolerant bedfellow, and saw the red-faced bully glaring back at him, his eyes red, glazed and bulging from the alcohol he'd consumed.

As his eyes adjusted, the doctor in him then saw the typical signs of pellagra, the dark red pigmentation of the skin around the chest and throat, and the profusion of perspiration beading his whole body.  'Alcoholism?' Sam professed, remembering the sickening stench of breath.  'I think I'm gonna have to tread very carefully here,' he conjectured without too much forethought.

"Okay, I'm going—I'm going," Sam said, not wanting to stay a minute longer than he had to and he hurried towards the door.

"I see yer back ain't hurtin' yer n'more, 'gorge', or is that just one of yer ruses, yer gitting too good yer know… lover!" he hurled out after Sam as he closed the door quietly behind him.

 'Am I supposed to be a cripple?' he thought as his eyes closed, somewhat relieved at getting away from that dreadful ogre in one piece.  He had a bizarre feeling in his gut, one that he didn't want to readily admit to.  Sam leaned against the framework and breathed in deeply.  'Gorge?  There goes that reference again, could this be the name of my host?' Sam felt confused and bewildered and tried to think up names that would fit but couldn't come up with any.

Opening his eyes, the Leaper once again found himself in complete darkness.  He fumbled about the surrounding area of the door to find a light switch and finding several between the one door he'd just left and the framework of another immediately adjacent.  Guessing which one, he flipped a switch and was instantly confronted by a blaze of bright luminosity.

He looked about, a room, a spacious, long, rectangular room confronted him, three large draped windows faced him and to his right a vaulted staircase complete with balcony.  To his left another small flight of stairs and a door leading off to who knows where?  Every inch of available wall housed various kinds of reptilian creatures, some Sam recognized and some he didn't but each held him in fascination as he stepped towards one of the windows.  He pulled one of the drapes aside and for the first time saw his host's hazy reflection painted against the backdrop of an ebony sky.

Yes, he was definitely a she this time and promptly drew the curtain closed again when he saw that her shadowy outline was as naked as himself, apart from a pair of skimpy panties.  "Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed and as he looked down at his own skimpy underwear, a smile touched at his lips.  "Al, if you come in here now, I swear, I'll kill you!"

Not daring to return to the room for a robe, Doctor Beckett decided to seek out the bathroom, there was bound to be something there he could wrap about him.

First, Doctor Beckett tried the other door that was opposite the windows and when he opened it, a little black and white blur whizzed past him.  His gaze followed in the direction, which the animal scuttled but like a flash of lightening, it disappeared down the fight of stairs.  Sam shrugged and continued to enter but found it to be an office of some kind, so he closed the door and subsequently tiptoed past the various vivariums, he started to climb the short flight of steps.  Again, he fumbled for a light switch and again he was disappointed that he'd not found the bathroom but he wasn't disappointed for long.

"WOW!" he gasped as the enormity of the room devoured him into its midst, turning about in sheer wonder at its structure and whooping as his eyes reached the domed ceiling.  Oak beams spanned spider like into its elaborately engraved marble center, depicting the head of an oxen and between each exquisitely preserved beam were infills of intricately carved mahogany.  Even the carpeting underfoot felt to be at least a foot deep and centering the room so magnificently stood a full sized snooker table.  Catching his breath, Sam spotted two sets of double doors leading off to the right, almost concealed within their oak paneled surroundings only the brass door knobs giving away their existence.  Doctor Beckett backed around the table in awe as cottage windows winked at him from every angle, their leaded lites slightly askew, showing their age.

Exiting the room from the nearest of the double doors, Doctor Beckett was aghast again at what greeted him there.  He was standing atop a gallery and looking down into a great hall.  On the opposing side, he could see the other entrance which led back into the domed game room, this too having an identical elliptical balcony, both of which convened at the far end to form a balustrade that adorned each side of a well defined staircase which fell away to the floor below.

Several rooms led off from each of the balconies and Sam had a difficult decision in which to choose first.  Sam padded along the open gallery and opened the first door as he came to it.  Another bedroom, he nodded as he closed the door and he moved toward the next.  This time he was in luck, though it didn't look as though it was the regular bathroom, it was too sparse, too clinically clean.

Sam turned on the light as he entered and shrugged.  'What was it that jerk had said?  A pigsty?  No way do any of the rooms I have visited so far, resemble a pigsty.  Everything, as far as I can see, is where it should be, neat 'n tidy and clean.  What is it with this guy?  It must be the booze talking,' Sam decided.

The marble floor tiles struck icy cold on Sam's bare feet and he noticed that this part of the house was much cooler than that which he'd left.  Finding several towels in the closet, he proceeded in removing two, one for washing and the other, a larger one, to wrap about him once he'd finished.

Now shivering, he splashed tepid water about his torso in order to rid himself of the stench from the bohemian.  Lathering up the soap to an invigorating mass of suds, he washed and quickly rinsed down, then rubbed at his flesh vigorously to warm himself up as well as to stimulate his senses.

The fresh towel felt warm against his skin as he snuggled into its softness and reluctantly he started on his return journey, though he doubted that he would sleep.

Doctor Beckett stopped unabated and stared at the full-length mirror to the side of the door.  Sam's brow creased as he saw his host's reflection clearly, and wasn't fogged by the blackened backdrop, as the window had reflected earlier.  There, aghast at what he saw, his chin dropped a mile.

"My God!" Sam muttered; cringing visibly at the bruises that blotched the front of is host's chest and arms.  He dropped the towel and swallowed hard when he saw the enormity of the crimson and purple but yellowing patch that blemished the flesh around her tummy and also the tops of her thighs.  He touched at the blotch hesitantly and winced.

Sam glared towards the door.  "No need for Al to tell me what I'm here to do this time!" he seethed loudly, hoping that his words would travel past the door and reach the joker in the other part of the house.

No sooner were his words out, when he heard the familiar sound of the Imaging Chamber door opening up behind him.

"Uh-oh!" Al vocalized as Sam retrieved the towel to cover himself.

"Can't you give me some kinda warning or somethin'?" Sam vindicated.  "Why do you always charge in at the most inappropriate moments?"

"You want that I should wear a cowbell?  Though I doubt you'd even hear that in time," the observer pouted, tongue in cheek.

Sam frowned.  "Where am I, Al?"

Al pressed the button on the handlink.  "You're smack dab in the middle of England Sam, though exactly where, Ziggy can't pinpoint," he said as he slapped a hand into the handlink when Ziggy didn't show up.  "Darn it Stephen, I thought you'd fixed this!" he yelled, looking up at nothing above him.

"What is it now?" Sam asked, looking at his friend, puzzled.

"Darned circuitry!" Al said as he again bashed at the implement.  "Stephen said he'd had problems connecting the conduits and… erm… thingies err, those limpet nodes," he continued to slap at the device.  "…he used bubble gum the first time.  But the trouble is when…"—slap—"…it dries out… the circuits get all un…"—wallop—"…attached again.  I think Stephen will have to work on it some more."

Doctor Beckett shook his head and tutted, giving his friend a glare that told him that he wasn't helping matters by mistreating a delicate instrument especially if the connections were as fragile as his friend said they were.  "I wish I could help Al, but…" he said as he deliberately swiped a hand through the hologram and redressed himself quirkily.

"I know but he's a bright kid, reminds me a helluva lot of you when you were his—ahem, hmmm." Al closed his mouth with a snap when he realized he'd said too much.  "I think we need old faithful yet another time—I'll just go and fetch…"

"Al!" Sam snapped, not taking in the implications of his friend's last slip, he was more worried about being left alone.  "Before you go, Al.  Who am I?" he glanced back at the mirror.  "I know I'm a woman but what's her name?"

"We're not sure yet, I've not had the chance to talk with our visitor, she's in some kinda deep sleep and Verbena can't seem to wake her," Al said with a shake of his head and then his eyes widened.  "Maybe she's awake now, I'll ask when I fetch the other handlink—I won't be a tick."

"He referred to me twice as 'gorge', Al but it could be his drunken slur. But I can't figure it out, maybe her name's Georgina?" Sam grimaced when he saw further bruises on his host's back.

"Oh, so there's a he involved?" Al chimed as he once again pressed the single button to open up the Imaging Chamber.

"Look at her Al, she's covered from top to toe in bruises," Sam said mournfully.

"You forget Sam, I see you as you—her as you." Al started to laugh but held it back when he saw the look on his friend's face.  He stepped closer to the mirror and was horrified at what he saw. "Okay, okay, I'm on to it, heck Sam, I'll find out," Al pressed his thumb down hard onto the solitary button.  "As soon as Ziggy decides to open this goddamn door!" he yelled up again at nothing.  "Ziggy!"  Al screwed up his face and started whimpering pitifully, "What the hell is going on!"

Al hated being confined and the Leaper knew it.  Even in the vast expanse of the Imaging Chamber Al felt trapped.  Ever since Vietnam, he'd hated it when he couldn't go somewhere where he wanted to be and right now he wanted to be in the Control Room.

"Ziggy!" Al whimpered again.

"She'll know," Sam said soberly.

"Who?" whined Al.

"Ziggy, she'll know and she'll let you out as soon as she realizes what's happening," Sam explained.  "You'll just have to be patient."

"Patient?"

"Yeah, like in: 'everything comes to those who wait'," Sam empathized.

"Wait?  Patience?  Yeah, I've had a lot of practice at both of those," Al said more perkily.

"Do you know the date where I'm at, Al?" Sam asked changing the subject.

"Hmmm," Al thought; the strain showing on his face as he lowered his head.  "Ziggy did say but in the hubbub, I've sorta forgot," he said awkwardly, looking up at Sam sheepishly.

The Imaging Chamber door whizzed open behind him and Sam gave him a look that said, 'told you so.'  Al beamed.

"I think it's 19—98—7, Sam, No—vember I think," Al said as he stepped into the bright light. "But don't quote me on that," he continued to say as the door collapsed and Doctor Beckett was left alone again in the sparse bathroom.

He pulled the towel closer around his now chilled body, clutching it tightly as he opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony.  The rich carpeting felt warm to his feet and Doctor Beckett wiggled his frozen toes to absorb some of the heat.  Then he felt something hairy rub against his legs and as he looked down, he recognized the now clearly portrayed black and white blur that had so recently zoomed past him.

"Hello there, how did you get here?" Sam said as he bent down to pet at the dog.  "And what's your name, huh?" he felt around the dog's neck for a collar, "hmm, no collar either, huh?" he frowned.  "I thought at least you'd have a nametag."

The dog whined in answer and looked at Doctor Beckett quizzically, head tilted and ears pricked.

Sam crouched down even further, almost sitting on the deep pile of the carpet and stroked at the dog's head.  "I know this is kinda strange for you boy," he said after checking the dog's gender.  "I still find it sorta strange myself… tell you what, I'll tell you my name if you'll tell me yours."

Doctor Beckett waited as if in response for an answer, he then continued, "Hmmm, so you're not telling, huh?  Don't blame you, I can't tell anyone my name either.  Can you keep a secret?" again Sam paused and this time the dog yawned out a reaction.  "Okay boy, my name's Sam, but you mustn't tell a soul, it's a secret."

The dog licked at Doctor Beckett's hand and pawed gently but impatiently at his legs.

"Time to go, eh?  Come on then, I s'pose we'd better be getting back," Sam said as he stood.

Nervously, he retraced his steps, the little dog faithfully following.  He headed back into the game room and once there, he noticed more of its contents.  From this perspective, there were three other gaming tables and he wondered why he hadn't noticed them before, perhaps it was the enormity and the central position of the table that had distracted him.  In the far right corner, stood a pool table and as with the snooker table, all of the balls were positioned ready for play.

On the right, a green baized, horseshoe shaped card table with a centralized opening and chairs positioned around its circumference.

In the near left corner and canopied beneath an elaborately carved oak gazebo, a roulette table was positioned.  To the side a stairway spiraled up and around, leading to the platformed roof which overhung about a fifth of the way into the room.

Stepping back, Sam looked upward and saw the ornamental encasement surrounding a seated area.

Shaking his head in wonder, Doctor Beckett suddenly realized that maybe, he might be missed and he hurriedly padded across the room and to the door where the little dog sat waiting patiently.  As he pulled it open, a blast of hot air hit him full in the face, almost taking his breath away.  The aridness made his mouth and throat instantaneously dry.

Sam coughed as the heat rasped at his lungs, making him dizzy and he had to hold onto the banister as he descended the few stairs to the lower level.  The door swung automatically closed behind him and slammed on impact, startling the Leaper into jumping the remainder of the small flight, and into landing awkwardly.

"Damn!" Sam cursed as he sat on the bottom step and nursed at a sore ankle.

"Looks like you're in the wars now pal," Al said as the Imaging Chamber door whooshed closed.

"This place is like—like unreal, Al," Sam said indicatively, looking up at his friend.

"He's not—not done anything untoward, has he Sam?" Al asked, quickly glancing about him for another presence, he then saw the little dog, his head cocked, looking Al up and down inquisitively.  He greeted the little dog with a hurried wave from his hand.

"No, he's totally out of if.  Can't you hear him, Al?"  Sam frowned, flapping a hand towards the bedroom door.

Al stood motionless and listened.  "That's… human?" he garbled in stupefaction.  "He sounds like a power-driven sawmill," he joked.

"What did you find out?  Who the hell am I and who's he?"  Sam once again waved his arms toward the door.

"Well… you're name's not Georgina, that's for sure," Al said provocatively.

Sam glared at his friend requesting a more positive answer, when one wasn't forthcoming, he started to stand and winced at the pain in his ankle, he grabbed hold of the banister, letting loose the towel.

"Nice undies," Al mocked with a snicker.

Sam repeated his frozen glare for a few moments before retrieving the towel.

PART TWO

"Hmmm," Al sighed negatively with a shrug.  "We couldn't get anything out of our visitor so; Zig ran a check on the address.  From the British census records, we've found out that you're name's Joanna Suzman, you're a 43 year old housewife—hey, but that's not all Sam, you're a college student and taking a degree in Computer Science at the local university."

Doctor Beckett raised his brow.  "Impressive.  But…" he started to say but before he could say any more his friend interrupted.

"And there's more…" Al tweaked the handlink with a stubborn thud from his cigar-laden hand and scattered ash into the oblivion of the next century. "According to Ziggy, seven years ago she was two months away from getting her medical doctorate but had to give it all up on account of…"

"Don't tell me," Sam said as he nodded his head towards the closed bedroom door.  "I already know that's the reason and it's making more racket than a train pulling into Washington's Grand Central."

Al raised his eyebrows and at the same time frowned but he didn't say a word.

"Okay Al, you've got me.  What am I here to do?  Not that I don't know already from what I've seen of Joanna."

"Hang on Sam; it'll be through in a second or so.  Ziggy's having trouble interfacing with the computers over here and they still haven’t updated their systems yet for the Millennium bug," Al explained, thudding the handlink in order to get the information through faster.

Clutching the towel around his midriff, Doctor Beckett tried again to stand, rising slowly he tested the weight on his sore ankle.  He looked about him and saw a small alcove that lead off from the banisters.  He patiently made his way over to it whilst his friend was waiting to retrieve the information needed from the handlink.

Al followed a few paces behind, looking in each of the glass cases as he past them by.  One in particular grabbed his attention.  "That's one mean looking son of a gun!" Al gasped as he saw the longest snake he'd ever seen, he then immediately shot back as the snake started to uncoil.

"What's that?" Sam inquired as he about turned and retraced his steps.  "Tywan Beauty?" he recited quizzically as he stooped down to read from the label in the bottom right hand corner.

"Geeze Sam, he's a big one!" Al exclaimed with a shudder.  "Don't get too close—'cos he looks like he has the strength to break through that glass."

"He is a she, Al, says so right here," Sam said, looking up at Al and pointing to the description tag.  "Fifteen foot on the last measuring."

Returning his hands to his knees, Sam's body swayed in amusement and when he saw the gaunt expression on his friend's face, he smiled mockingly.  He couldn't help it, but he was ashamed to admit that he quite enjoyed seeing his friend squirm.

"You mean they actually measure those darned things… they actually take em out and measure em… by… hand?"

"S'pose they must do," Sam said with an amused lick of his lips.

"Horrid, slimy critters," Al shuddered at the thought.

"That is a misconception that the majority of people make, when in fact they're warm and silky to the touch," Sam said as he tapped lightly on the glass, just to annoy Al.

Al shuddered again and was relieved when the handlink squealed for attention.  A split second after, the resonance of police sirens blared out.

Doctor Beckett looked at his friend in surprise.  "I thought you said we were in England, Al, those sirens are American."

"We are, least that's where Ziggy says we are," Al said with uncertainty as his fingers flittered across the keys on the handlink.

Amidst the sirens, gunshots blasted out over the steady hum drumming of the heating and ventilating system for the vivariums.  Both friends turned to each other and with one mind they mutually uttered, "Television!"

"He's awake, Sam!" Al warned.

Limping slightly, Sam started heading towards the bedroom door.  "He must have that thing turned up full blast, if it's that loud in here.  Whatever will the neighbors think?"

"Okay… I'll add inconsiderate to the list too, shall I?" Al said, biting at his lower lip.

Sam shot back in surprise and almost let go of the towel when the door to the bedroom started to open.

"Gorge, I've had a little accident," a pitiful and almost childlike voice wafted in from the bedroom.

Sam ignored the remark and Al looked at his friend in amazement.  "You should really go in and see what he's done," Al stipulated.  "Alcoholics can do the most amazing—stupid things and I should know," he laughed as a remembrance popped to the surface of his memory.  "Ya know, once I was so stupefied I couldn't even remember where I'd parked my darned car.  And I know what you're gonna say here Sam," he conjectured, "you're gonna say that I shouldn't have been driving anyways, right?"

"You're wrong there!" Sam stipulated. "I wasn't thinking about saying that at all.  I was thinking that it was a good thing that you couldn't remember where you parked your car, 'cos you'd have driven it home— 'anyways'."

"Gorge, I need some help," the voice said, evermore pitifully.  "GORGEOUS!!" he bellowed when Joanna didn't immediately run to his aid.

Al sucked at his teeth and frowned.  "Same thing… in my book."

"No it isn't," Sam said just before he pushed the bedroom door open a little wider.

"GORGE!!" the lout yelled even louder.  "Gor—g—eous?" his tone now whimpering sorrowfully.

Doctor Beckett sighed deeply and pushed the door open wide, he stood in the doorway but didn't enter.  "What have you done this time?" he supplicated, taking the man's use of words and tone as being: 'This wasn't the first time this has happened.'  Sam gulped inwardly when he saw the man flaunting his nakedness before him.  It was not a pretty sight.

"I've wet the bed," he whined babyishly as he stood looking down at a yellowing wet patch that was spreading out against the whiteness of the sheet.

"HA—HA!!" Al laughed candidly from outside, not wanting to disguise his joviality at what the man had said.  "I remember that one too… though it's not a fond one."  He shook is head as he joined Sam in the doorway.

"I got the wrong bottle and didn't know it."  Sniveling, he held up a plastic milk bottle, full to the brim of yellowish fluid.

Doctor Beckett squirmed as the gross mutation held out the bottle for Sam to take.  At once, he felt filthy again as he remembered the dampness of his skin just after his Leap-in, he shuddered at the thought… no, it couldn't be… no… could it?  But his flesh began to crawl all the same.  He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts.  He felt the pit of his stomach begin to rise.  Al's voice calmed him somewhat when he realized he wasn't the only one who was disgusted at what he was seeing.

"Though I don't think I was as bad at that to resort to… Yuck, is that disgusting."  Al wrinkled his nose and almost choked at what he was seeing, beside the bed was another half-empty bottle, containing the same yellow fluid.  "This is so Gawddamed awful I could barf and look at that gut—it's almost as if…"

"Al!" Doctor Beckett reprimanded his friend aloud and then immediately regretted it.  "I—I'll," Sam renounced retrospectively when the man looked at him suspiciously.  "I'll go and get some clean linen," he said, refusing the bottle offered and backed out of the door.

"Who the hell is this guy, Al?" Sam whispered when he'd closed the door.

Al glanced down at the handlink and snickered.  "According to Ziggy his name's Geoffrey Peterson but…"

"I thought you said that I'm Joanna Suzman, how come she hasn't taken his name?" Sam butted in.

"Well, if you'd let me finish I was just about to say that he's also known as Peter Jerryson, Derek Copestake, Gerald Suzman, Barry Holmes, and gawd knows how many other aliases, perhaps even Homer Simpson at some point." Al laughed but it turned into a sheepish grin when he saw that Sam was not at all amused, he cleared his throat.  "But from the data, Ziggy is adamant that Geoffrey is his real name," Al said, letting the handlink drop down to his side.

"So Al, WHAT do I call him?" Sam asked indignantly.

"Well, for starters and seeing that your—her—Joanna's name's Suzman, try Gerald." In his frustration, Al hit out at the handlink.  "Hey!  It looks like he's taken a lot of people on a merry dance, including his mother, he took—takes her for a pretty penny too."

"When is that?" Sam asked.

"Ah, that's… not for a couple of years, your time, Sam," Al said gleaning more information from Ziggy.  "He gets so out of it in later years that other women won't look at him twice and he has to resort to his family to bail him out.  Sam, it's one thing tricking strangers out of their money but when it come to family, well, darn it, that's not right, not right at all."

"How can someone…" Sam said, indicating to the bedroom, "get away with the same thing over and over and for so long without getting caught?"

"A devious mind, always plotting something or other, clever too by the looks of it and combined with the gift of the gab."

"How come?  He's so groggy and unstable."

"You wait Sam, in a couple 'o hours he'll be a different man, you'll not recognize him."

"I don't believe that," Sam exacted.

"Believe me Sam, I should know."

The door to the bedroom opened suddenly.  "You might as well take this with you!" the naked Gerald grunted as he threw the soiled sheet into Doctor Beckett's face.

The little dog cowered and a growl started to grow in his throat when he saw exactly who it was that was standing in the doorway.

"And stop dawdling!" Gerald snapped as he looked about him somewhat secretively.  "Who are you talking to anyway?  I thought I heard voices."

The growl turned into a snarl and Gerald's eyes fell on the small canine.

"Sam!" Jerry trilled joyously.

Sam shot back in astonishment, giving his friend an astute glare.  Al replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Sammy?  Where the hell have you been all night?" he exacted and pointed a derisory finger into the bedroom.

The little dog shrank away but after a second or two, he obeyed and skulked towards the bedroom where a cumbersome foot made his journey that bit quicker.

Sam stepped forward after seeing the outlandish display towards the dumb animal.

"Sam!" Al warned.  "Careful, Sam, don't do anything you'll regret later."  Al could see that his friend was seething inside and he would have done the exact same thing, if he was in Sam's position, but he wasn't.  But he was in a position where he could see where this might lead.

Wisely, Sam backed off and turned tail.  He headed for the alcove he'd seen earlier but as he drew closer, he found that was all it was, an alcove and so instead, he retreated back towards the stairwell and started his descent.

He didn't know where he was going but instinct told him that downstairs was the best place to be.  The lower his footfalls took him, the colder the air became and he envisioned that other part of the house where he'd found the air much colder.  This part of the house was not so grand in its decoration and soon he would find out why.

As he reached the bottom of the stairwell, Doctor Beckett once again was in darkness.  Feeling sticky from the damp sheet, he shivered and looked about him for something to tell him where he could go next.  Even the faint glow from the bright lights above didn't penetrate where he stood.  And so he lingered, patiently waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.  After what seemed like an age, not even the shadows made themselves apparent, everything remained pitch black.

A scuttling noise told Sam that he was not alone in his present surroundings.  It was not a sound he recognized, it was unfamiliar to his ears, making him feel jittery.  He regretted his haste in getting away and he wished now that he'd had the foresight to turn on the light before running away.  'Yes!' he scolded himself, 'Yup, running away again, as I always do.'

"Al?" the Leaper's voice sounded uncannily abnormal and the scuttling noise seemed to grow and scurry all around him, giving him double the jitters.

He looked warily up to whence he'd come, the brightness was exceedingly alluring.  Sam's first instinct was to go back up the stairs but another voice in his head told him that it wasn't such a good idea.

"Al?  Come out, come out, wherever you are," Sam whispered anxiously.  He swallowed the mass of nerves that had accumulated in his throat but it didn't make him feel any better.  His heart fluttered as the nagging sound that he couldn't quite make out, began to stir again at the reverberation of his whispered utterance.

"What the hell… is it?" he said louder than he had intended, and was then taken swiftly unawares at yet another sound coming from his right.  A clatter, a gentle flapping as something weightless wisped onto the surface of the floor, followed in quick succession by a further, similar rattle.

Doctor Beckett found himself pressed against icy coldness, his fingers firmly groping at the painted wooden wall.  The towel and the sodden sheet forgotten as a momentary fit of terror seized every muscle taught.

"Aaarrrrgh!" he vocalized at the suddenness of the dazzling whiteness that blinded and stung at his eyes.  Even before his vision returned, he could hear the stomping of heavy feet on the stairs as they hurried downward.

"Outta my way, bitch!" the oaf, Gerald growled shoving Sam to one side.

"Now hang on, wait a minute…" Sam caught a hold of Gerald's trailing arm, stopping him in his tracks.  "What gives you the right to talk to and treat me this way?" Doctor Beckett's grip on his arm tightened.  "And not just me—every woman you talk to just lately is—is…" Sam couldn't think of the right words, he was still astounded that he should be saying this much.  "You're sick—you need to see someone about the effects your drinking is having on…"

"And what gives you the RIGHT to interfere in my getting ready for work?" Gerald demanded, glaring directly into Doctor Beckett's eyes.  The lout's face took on the features of an evil goblin as his face began to redden.

A full fifteen stone of man fat slammed Sam back into the wall.  The sweet, sickly breath swamping Doctor Beckett almost into subservience.

"Bitch—you stink, take a bath, I need my vittles 'afore I tackle this bitch of a day," he growled suggestively into Sam's ear as he pressed his weight further into him.  "Gear it up – so to speak," he sneered, insinuatingly.

Doctor Beckett's chin was almost in his chest as he tried to avoid the torrid stench and the unremitting gaze of what he—Joanna was being subjected to.  He couldn't understand why she had or was putting up with this man's infractions, though a little of Joanna did happen to filter through now and then and one of those times was now. '...to love, honor and obey, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.'

'Sweet, delusional, Joanna,' Sam thought, 'she is taking her wedding vows all too literally.  Time she woke up to who it is she's married and to the vows that he had taken too.  Wasn't it "love, honor and cherish" that went along with everything else?  Surely, he had broken his vows first and so making the contract null and void?  Least, that's the way I see…’ He also had a sense of déjà vu as though he'd gone through this scenario before.

Sam's thoughts were cut off midstream when he felt a roughly skinned hand slide to the inside of his thighs.

PART THREE

"N-n-no!" Sam said assertively and slid down the wall, out of the way of the ruffian's lecherous grasp.  Or so he thought.  "After what you've said, you don't deserve any…"

Doctor Beckett shivered with cold disbelief as lecher's knee swiftly plunged into his abdomen, pinning him even tighter into the corner of the wall and floor.  "Deserve WHAT!" the enraged Gerald pronounced.  "My RIGHTS?  I DEMAND my RIGHTS as your husband!"

"You gave up your rights as a husband when you…"

Gerald's knee pandered deeper into Sam's gut making him gasp.  "When I—when I WHAT?  Don't you mean your clumsiness?  You can't hold me responsible for your little accidents."

Gerald's searing gaze burned intensely into Doctor Beckett's subconscious, bringing forth another of Joanna's filtrations.  "Accidents my foot!  Accidents by your hand, your fists, your doing!  Whatever has Joanna done to deserve you?  And why she stays with you I'll never know!"

Gerald's features turned into a twisted snarl.  "Now I know you've lost it bitch!  An out'uv body experience, is it?  Well, you'll know soon enough what it's like to be out of body as well as out of mind, cos you're heading straight for the funny farm."

"Not as long as I have a breath in my body, I won't!" Sam promised.

"You?!!" Gerald's twisted scowl broadened, revealing an iniquitous, one toothed sneer.  His mirth spurted forth in a flume of cascading saliva.

Sam's head lurched backward as the foul dribble jettisoned into his face and he muted a groan when his head smashed against the hardness of the wall behind him.

Stunned for a few moments, Doctor Beckett blinked away the fuzziness that had made his ears ring and his head pound, and, as his focus returned, the still cruel mouth spat out hysterically, "Scared are ya?  You should be!"

"No, Jerry," Sam breathed his response as he looked past his assailant.  "I pity you."

Quizzically, Jerry looked at the woman beneath him and for a split second, he saw someone else and not his frightened, brown eyed temptress.  Doctor Beckett's steely glare looked straight through him and he felt somewhat disturbed.  Momentarily distracted, he leaned back on his haunches and stared into Joanna's face and she smiled scornfully back at him.

Sam didn't waste the opportunity and fervently pushed the lout away from him, causing Gerald to roll over backwards.  At that moment, the Imaging Chamber door opened, and as Al stepped out, they collided.  Gerald, not realizing that he was skidding his way through the twenty-first century, growled in alarm.

Seeing the encroaching Gerald, Al instinctively jumped out of the way. "Nozzle!" Al grouched as his eyes followed Gerald's journey into his time and then back out.  He then turned to Sam and was alarmed to see him hunched over in the corner.  "What the hell?  What is it Sam, you're not even dressed yet?" he queried as he raised an eyebrow, a quirky grin spreading across his face.

Sam struggled to his feet, all of the time keeping a distrustful eye on Jerry.

"What the hell happened, Sam?" the Observer repeated when he saw Sam flinch as his friend gingerly touched at his abdomen.  "You do get yourself into some unlikely predicaments."

The bewildered Gerald looked to Joanna in surprise.

"Wish I could lock him in here for you, buddy," he said quickly before the Imaging Chamber door closed down.  "Pity he's not the Leapee, we could have some real fun with him in the Waiting Room."

"Ha!" Sam directed at the Observer.

"H-how… did you do that?" the stunned Gerald asked as his dazes eyes looked about him.  The cages behind him were a hive of activity and for the first time, Doctor Beckett saw what it was that had made that awful noise which had filled him so full of dread.

Al saw them too.  "Rats!" he squawked louder than the screeching rodents.  "That's it Sam, I'm outta here!" Al said anxiously, poising a finger over the handlink.

"What did you come back for?" Sam asked Al, unthinking.

But before the Observer could answer, Gerald spoke up. "T-to fetch the p-post," he grunted with the exertion of heaving his bulk from the dusty ground and started to make his way towards the heap of multicolored envelopes.

"That's what I came to tell you Sam!" Al pointed down at the pile of letters that were scattered across the floor.  "You've got to get to the mail before that—that, nozzle does!"

Doctor Beckett turned his head to the direction in which his friend's finger indicated.

"Now, Sam!  Now!" Al supplicated as Gerald began to scoop up the letters one by one.  "He's been keeping all of Joanna's mail from her.  She has no idea that he's been doing it but Ziggy, she's found out what he's up to and it's not nice, Sam, not nice at all."

"Junk, as usual," Jerry pronounced with a wheeze of exhaled breath.  "Nothin' to worry yersel' about."

"The maggot's trying to wriggle out of it—the worm.  Bait him, Sam!" Al asserted aggressively.

Despite his pain and the still groggy sensation in his head, Doctor Beckett dashed for the door.  There was nothing the stunned Gerald could do as the Leaper slammed his body into his and once more knocked the unsuspecting Gerald off balance.

"What the f…!" the disorientated lout cursed as he yet again, found himself on the grimy floor, covered in sawdust.

"I'll take those, if you don't mind," Sam firmly declared as he seized the crumpled letters from Gerald's clutches.

Gerald reached out to retrieve one communiqué of particular interest but Sam stomped a firm foot upon the hand just as Gerald picked up one corner of the manila envelope.

"That one too, thank you," Sam said as he picked up the packet that Gerald was so interested in.  "I think now is the time—that it's my turn to decide what is junk and what isn't—don't you?"

Gerald didn't know what had hit him, and twice at that.  Joanna had always been so submissive before, that's how he could get away with what he'd been doing all of these years.  He could handle Joanna but now, he didn't know what had come over her, he hadn't seen this side of her before and he knew then that he'd have to put a stop to it, once and for all.  Otherwise, she could get out-of-hand.

"Give that one back—that one's mine!" Gerald growled as loud as his constricted lungs would allow.

Sam twisted the bulky envelope around, read the name, and address through the transparent window.  "Since when has your name been Mrs. Joanna Suzman?"

"'Tis mine I tell yer!  They've made a mistake with the name!" Gerald yowled in protest as Doctor Beckett began to tear it open.

"If it is yours, then I'll apologize," Sam said as he slid out the wad of papers and unfolded them.

As Sam read the heading aloud he looked in Al's direction whilst Al entered the data into the handlink.

"Croft, Blakely and Brent, Solicitors," Al repeated, the handlink squawked almost immediately with an answer.  "That's the name of Joanna's solicitors Sam!"

"Thought so, a mistake, huh?  This is a letter confirming the sale of the property, namely Sheepbridge House."

Gerald gasped and shakily, he shrank away.  But what Doctor Beckett didn't notice or realize, was that the man wasn't shaking with fear, but with anger as his rage inside began to build in its intensity.

"Hang on Sam, something else is coming through," Al waited for the information as it trickled across the tiny screen.  "As I thought, the rat has sold Joanna's home without her knowledge.  It was in her sole name Sam, bought and paid for, years before she even met this nozzle."

"So… it's a mistake is it?  You've sold this house… Jo—my home from under me?  When were you gonna tell me that I'd have to move out?" Sam asked with a glare of satisfaction.

"I-I hadn't th-thought that f-far ahead," Gerald continued with his subterfuge then grunting, he began to stand.

"Watch him Sam, this animal's capable of anything!" Al forewarned.

Doctor Beckett acknowledged his friend with a single nod of his head.

Even before he was upright, Gerald grasped at Sam's lower legs and forced him to the ground.  Sam lay winded with Gerald's mass atop him, his hot breath belching onto Sam's naked chest.

With one almighty push, Doctor Beckett heaved him away but the brute wasn't about to give in.

Gerald grappled for each of Sam's wrists and held onto them in a vice-like grip.  Tussling and tousled, Sam fought back but Gerald's strength was as inhuman as his irrevocable lunacy.

Doctor Beckett searched every nook and cranny of his subconscious for some small remnant that his host could have left behind.  Anything would do, even the minutest detail would suffice, anything he could use to startle Gerald into losing his concentration, even if it was only for a split second.

Throughout the tussling and jousting, Al shrieked out commands but Sam's concentration was needed elsewhere and so the Admirals advice fell upon deaf ears.

At last and catching Sam's eye, Al yelled out, "Listen to me, will ya?" He was taken aback when Doctor Beckett's eyes rested on him pleadingly.  "That's better, now do I have your full attention, Sam?"

Doctor Beckett nodded slightly, unable to do anything else as the ruffian's forearm pressed against his windpipe.

Al grimaced.  "Ziggy's come up with something new.  Ask him about Carla, Sam!"

Sam's expression, for an instant, changed to puzzlement.

Unconsciously, the Observer's cheek twitched. "There's too much involved and there isn't enough time for me to go into all of the details—just ask butthead here why Carla's grandmother's house is mortgaged to the hilt!" he said without taking a single breath.

"Carla?  Who's Carla?" Sam repeated quietly but it was just loud enough for Gerald to hear.  It was precisely the opening Sam needed to smash his own forearm across Gerald's jaw.

The oaf yowled like a stuck pig before toppling backwards.

"YAYHEY, Sam!" Al danced, both arms raised, stabbing the air in triumph. "Whooohooo!"

"Nahhhggg!" Doctor Beckett followed through, he had barely enough strength left to finish the job and knock out the now catatonic Gerald.

Breathing heavily, Sam leaned on his hands as he bent over the silent but heaving figure. "He's the husband from Hell, Al!"

"You don't have to tell me that." Al said as he warily made his way over to his friend's side but stopped short and looked down at the prone form as a strange gurgling sound came from the ruffian's throat.  "Something's wrong here, Sam!"

Sam was already on it, hoisting Gerald's body onto its side.  "He's choking to death, Al!  But I swear; I didn't hit him that hard!"

"Glass jaw, I've seen it before.  He maybe as strong as an ox but if that's where his frailty lies then you could've knocked him out with a feather.  Not your fault, Sam so don't go sayin' it was."

As Sam rolled him over, his head followed shortly after, and with an immense rush, blood and saliva gushed from his mouth but Gerald's breathing didn't improve any.

"What?" Sam implored.  "There must be something else restricting his airway!"  And so Sam opened his mouth and gingerly felt inside.

Sure enough, there was something, lodged way back against his epiglottis.  Doctor Beckett scooped it out with two fingers but lost his grip amidst the slime and it chinked onto the dusty floor.  Gerald's breathing instantly relieved.

"Da dummy be a gummi!" Al remarked with a snicker when he saw Gerald's tooth slither across the grimy floor.

Sam wasn't in the mood for any of Al's sarcastic remarks but on this occasion even Sam couldn’t suppress a smile. But he did manage to turn it into a frown of disbelief.

"Sorry Sam, couldn't resist that one," Al apologized with an exaggerated grimace.

"I know Al," Sam said sadly, as he wiped his hands on Jerry's grubby and torn shirt.  "I know it's only you being you," he said, equally as sadly but with the tiniest hint of sarcasm. "You can't help it, being the way you are."

Al glared at his friend momentarily but his expression soon changed when the handlink squealed as a reminder.  "Dunno why you're bothering though, Sam," Al said, changing the subject slightly when he read the data on the handlink.  "He's a two-timing, no good bigamist; he's still married but not to you—erm, er—Joanna, though she doesn't know that yet."

"When does she find out, Al?" Sam asked, astonished.

"She doesn't, Sam… you—Joanna, dies in less than two hours," Al said somberly.

"She dies?  How?  He's…" Sam waved a hand over the recumbent Jerry.  "…out cold."

"Drowning…"

"He kills her?" Sam queried, almost stopping dead whilst he mopped up the mess around Gerald's mouth with his shirttail.

"Never proven though, Sam," the Observer retrieved the data from the handlink.  "Joanna's autopsy report says that she slipped and fell in the bathtub and… Sam—get this, it looks as if it's happened before; and the last time he wasn't married to the poor kid either.  This other autopsy report says that Carla died in a car accident.  She lost everything too Sam, man, this guy—sure is a real sleezeball.  He's nothing but a two bit hustler; who feeds on women who have property or a little money, a philanderer."  He egoistically kicked an unwavering foot through Gerald's form.

Something wasn't sitting right; there was also something in Al's tone that wasn't sounding quite as it should be.  "Then, who else is he married to, if it's not Carla or me?"

"Her name is…" the Observer paused whilst the information was fed through.  "…Deborah Peterson, no divorce papers are ever filed but then again he doesn't need to.  Twelve years from now he dies, sclerosis of the liver."

"Figures," Sam said unexcitedly, and satisfied that Gerald was out of danger he stood slowly.  Pacing towards his friend, he turned back.  "Though judging by the way he's bleeding, I doubt he'll last that long.  That's the trouble with alcohol, when abused over time, it destroys the clotting ability of the blood, hence the sclerosis.   Usually the liver can regenerate itself but with alcohol abuse," Sam shook his head, not knowing if it was Joanna's thoughts that were filtering through or his own.  "That ability is no longer factual."

"You don't have to tell me that Sam," Al said sadly.  "Though I doubt I wasn't a fraction as bad as this… nozzle."

Sam raised his brow, "No Al, you weren't but you could have been if you'd carried on," he sighed as he looked at the prone Gerald.  "I think I should phone the police, before…"

"No Sam!" the Observer iterated, making Sam jump half out of his skin.  "You can't do that, that's what Joanna did the last time and…"

"Why not?" Sam asked, confused.

"Ziggy, just gave me the lowdown on the police report.  You're not gonna believe this Sam, they took his word over hers, in fact between them, they ridiculed her and threatened to arrest her for knocking out this noggin's teeth."

"Joanna knocked out his tooth as well?"  Sam was now even more confused.

"Yup," the Observer nodded.  "It seems as though you are repeating history… you haven't changed anything yet, Sam."

Sam's brow creased, he didn't know how to explain it but ever since this Leap had started, he felt as though he wasn't in control.

The Observer raised his eyebrows as Gerald groaned.  "Uh-ho!" Al uttered when he saw that Gerald had begun to stir.  "He's coming to; if I were you, I'd make myself scarce."

"I'll go and take that much needed bath, I think," Sam said as he headed for the stairs.

"Not yet, Sam!" the Observer stipulated.  "You can't do that, that's where, Joanna… erm… you know… er…" Al made a slashing motion across his throat.

Sam turned to face the Observer just as his friend completed the gesture.  "Al, I can always lock the door!"

"You think that'll keep this buffoon out?"

"Maybe you're right but where else?  Al, I don't know where else to go."

"Remember who you are Sam, you're not some helpless female who has to hide in a closet, you're Sam Beckett, right!"

"But you've just told me to get the hell outta here so, ahhh, Al, what is it you want me to do?" Sam slumped his arms down in defeat.

"Okay, okay, it's the natural thing for Joanna to do and as you're her—aw God, this is confusing.  You do what you think is best.  I'll keep lookout here and I'll come and find you if this nozzle does anything out of the ordinary. Ha!" Al laughed.  "As if this creep will ever do anything— ordinary!"

Doctor Beckett glanced down at the now conscious Gerald and sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"If you're goin', do it now, afore this cretin regains all of his senses," Al urged, shooing his friend away. Again, he laughed at his thoughts but didn't add to them.

Sam charged up the stairs, taking them three steps at a time.

"Gorge?" Gerald questioned, slurring and slurping as he sat himself upright and rubbed at his aching chin.  "What happened here, Gorge?"

"As if you don't already know!  You slob, you sad old bucket of lardy bones!" Al growled, keeping a close eye on his every movement.

Gerald stumbled to his feet and blinking, he patted at his mouth.  "What the—hell?" he pause to full up his lungs.

"Wait for it!" Al commented as he watched on and cringed as he waited for the yelling to start.

"GORGE!!" Gerald howled at the top of his lungs.

"All I can say pal, is that I'm glad I'm a hologram, otherwise you'd 'uv been hanging on meat hook in a butcher's freezer by now!"

"I've had another accident Gorge!" he shouted a little more subdued.  "Help me find my tooth, Gorge?  I can't manage without my tooth."  He crouched down and on his hands and knees he crawled about the floor, rummaging amongst the sawdust to find his tooth.  The blood that dribbled from his mouth didn't seem to bother him in the least; he just wiped it away as if it were a common occurrence, undoing the cleaning process that Doctor Beckett had performed.

"There you are, you little bugger," he said as he picked out the slimy tooth from a heap of dust, blowing off most the grime, he pushed it back into its recently vacated socket.

"Sheesh!" Al grimaced as he looked on.  Even the squelching sound it made as Gerald bit down made Al's skin crawl.  "Disgusting!" he finished with a shake of his head.

Looking towards the stairs, Gerald's brow creased and as he turned towards the door, he shrugged, just as if he couldn’t actually remember what had taken place.

"I've seen that look before," Al