Theorizing that one could time-travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett led an elite group of scientists into the desert to develop a top-secret project known as Quantum Leap.  Pressured to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Beckett prematurely stepped into the Project Accelerator…and vanished.

 

He awoke to find himself in the past, suffering from partial amnesia and facing a mirror image that was not his own.  Fortunately, contact with his own time was maintained through brainwave transmissions with Al, the Project Observer, who appeared in the form of a hologram that only Dr. Beckett can see and hear.

 

As evil and neutral forces alike do their best to stop Dr. Beckett’s journey, his children, Dr. Samantha Josephine Fulton and Stephen Beckett, continuously strive to retrieve their time-lost father and bring him home permanently.  Despite returning home several times over the last decade, Dr. Beckett has remained lost in the time stream…his final fate no longer certain.

 

Trapped in the past and driven by an unknown force, Dr. Beckett struggles to accept his destiny as he continues to find himself leaping from life to life, putting things right that once went wrong with the hopes that his next leap…will be the final leap home.

ROGUE LEAPER — PHASE I

REPRISE

Sam leaped into a top-secret project known as the Second Genesis Project, headed by Doctor Maxwell Connors.  As Connors’ assistant, Sam discovered that Max was using his String Theory to experiment on the human genome in an attempt to eradicate death.  Knowing that Connors’ experiments would result in catastrophic failure, Sam saved the project (along with the lives of everyone in the complex) by stepping into the Quantum Accelerator and using his own body to harness and absorb the excess energies within.  As the two men struggled within the chamber, both Sam and Connors vanished…  (*See “Second Genesis”)

Sam subsequently found himself temporarily trapped in a time loop when he “re-leaped” into Air Force pilot Tom Stratton.  Meanwhile, Connors became a “rogue leaper” and inhabited the aura of “Bird Dog” Birdell, with the intention of sabotaging the X-2 so that Sam (as Tom) would not be able to eject, thus restoring history.  Morpheus, the super-computer he had created to detect anomalies, was now permanently grafted onto Connors’ brainwaves, allowing communication between the two.  With Al’s help, Sam was successful in preventing Connors from causing a time paradox, but not before Connors swore he would return someday…  (*See “Second Genesis, Part II”)

That day occurred when Sam leaped into an out-of-work actor turned superhero named Captain Liberty (a.k.a. Brad Bennings) in the city of Hope Springs, Virginia in 1985.  As drug kingpin Darius Dreck, Connors orchestrated a bold plan to abduct the Sam Beckett of that time period (who was in Washington, D.C. at the time) and murder him in cold blood, thus preventing him from ever becoming a leaper in the first place.  Sam, as Captain Liberty, raced to his younger self’s rescue and convinced Connors that his plan was flawed and would only make things worse.  In the confusion, Connors was then shot by the evil British scientist Dr. Braden and leaped…  (*See “True Callings, Parts II & III”)

Connors clashed with Sam a third time when he leaped into the aura of Sheriff Bill Boone in the town of Carlisle, South Carolina in 1960.  After finding out that Sam had altered history drastically, Max allowed a murderer, Tom Mulhill, to go free in order to repair the timeline as much as possible.  Unfortunately, part of the new history required the death of Tom’s youngest brother Paddy, which Connors successfully saw to by leaping into a pharmacist at the hospital where Paddy was admitted for pesticide poisoning.  Although Max regretted having to kill Patrick Mulhill, he knew it had to happen in the new history and also tried to murder Sam in order to prevent any further disruptions to history.  Sam leaped before any harm came to him, however, and he was left wondering why he couldn’t get there in time to save an innocent man’s life…  (*See “I Left a Little Piece of Myself on the Farm, Parts II & III”)

 

And now, the saga continues…

ROGUE LEAPER — PHASE II

PROLOGUE

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Tuesday, August 8, 2006

18:48 MDT

“We’re here,” Al announced as he stepped out of the car.  He was dressed in his bright devil red suit, beige shirt, red tie, and red sunglasses.

Out of the vehicle came Donna, dressed in a fabulous outfit that almost made him envy Sam if it weren’t for his wife Beth, who followed Donna out.  She too looked like a knockout in her blue dress, a calla lily in her hair.

Next came Sammy Jo, in a dress covered in floral designs.  The dress managed to do her justice despite how far along she was with her pregnancy.  She was due any day and couldn’t wait for the bundle of joy that would soon enrich her and Daniel’s life.  After Sammy Jo, her younger brother Stephen emerged replete in a little tuxedo.

“This is the place, right?” Donna asked.

Al pulled out the eight-month-old note.  “Yeah, according to Mark’s directions, this is the place.  Albuquerque Best Western.”

The procession from Project Quantum Leap entered the lobby where a sign said: ALTERATIONS CONVENTION – BANQUET HALL B – PRIVATE PARTY.  “Must be it,” commented Beth as they made their way to the door.

A woman sat at a table checking off names on the guest list.  “Names please?” she asked.

“Calavicci party,” Beth replied.

The woman checked the name off the list.  “Please enter, they’ve been expecting you.”

Al opened the door and everyone walked in.  A party was in progress.  There was a dance floor with people on it, and a buffet table lined along the right wall.  Tables crowded with people filled the rest of the room.

“This is what I call a Quantum Leap convention,” Al quipped.

“You made it,” shouted a voice behind them.

They all turned to see Mark Robbins in a very formal suit approach them.  “Good to see all of you.  Looks like our main guest won’t be attending this time?” he asked with a note of disappointment.

“I’m afraid not this time,” Donna answered, a tear forming on her face.

“Don’t cry, Mrs. Beckett, your husband will celebrate with us one of these years.”  Mark excused himself and headed for the DJ table.

“I don’t understand,” said Beth. “What is going on here?  What did you drag us to?”

“It was the leapees’ idea,” Sammy Jo explained.  “Every year on Sam’s birthday, they all want to get together and catch up on events in their lives, and meet the new people that Sam has done good for.  They will continue to meet here every year until Dad is finally home to celebrate it.  As long as you are the result of a leap or connected to one, you have a standing invitation for life.”

Suddenly, the music stopped.  “May I have your attention please,” came the voice of Mark Robbins, who was DJing the event.  “Will the Calavicci party please take to the dance floor.”

Each of them puzzled, they walked to the now empty floor.  A large spotlight came on them as the house lights dimmed.  “May I present the people responsible for us being here today to commemorate all the good that Dr. Beckett has done for us.”

The members of Quantum Leap stood under the spotlight as everyone in the room stood up and applauded.  Among the people that they could recognize based on name tags (as they were considerably older since their time in the Waiting Room) were Arnold Watkins and his wife Dawn, the Cameron Wilson family (along with Cheryl), Dr. Ruth, Tom Selleck, Frankie and Teresa LaPalma, Jimmy LaMotta, Linda Bruckner and her daughter Teresa, Eddie Vega, Butchie Rickett and his family, Katie McBain, and standing off to the side, Al noticed a much older Brad Bennings.  Other leapees filled the banquet hall, but were hard to tell who they were.

Touched by the show of people in the room, Donna began to cry.  Stephen moved over to comfort her as she grabbed him in a big hug.

“I wonder how all these people got invites?” Al wanted to know, taking a glass off a serving tray offered to him by one of the leapees.

“Weren’t you ever curious as to what I was doing to take my mind off my pregnancy?” Sammy Jo shot back, refusing her glass due to her condition.  The woman moved down to offer a glass to Beth as Sam’s daughter continued, “I accessed Ziggy’s database and found out which of the leapees were still alive and contacted them personally.  No e-mail.  Hawkins never knew.  It was the least I could do for these people.”

“Whose idea was it to have this shindig on Sam’s birthday?” Beth inquired.

Sammy Jo laughed.  “Guilty.”  She took a moment to look at all the people staring back at her.  ‘All those people were here because their lives were touched by my father,’ she thought, feeling special because she too shared a bond with them, having been the result of a leap herself.  In turn, her child would be added to that list of people who would not be here if not for Sam.

“OK everybody,” Mark’s voice echoed over the sound system speakers, “the buffet and dancing will commence shortly.  But first,” he raised his glass of champagne, “a toast.  To Dr. Sam Beckett.  May he find his way home.  Happy birthday, Sam.”  A moment of silence followed as glasses were then clinked and consumed.  “Please feel free to mingle and get to know your fellow leapees and their families.”  Dance music began to blast over the speakers.

“Rap music?” complained Al, as the group started to walk off the dance floor.  “Don’t they have Ray Charles?”

A cry of alarm sounded from behind the Admiral.  He turned to see Sammy Jo clutching at her swollen belly.  “I think it’s time,” she cried out.

“Her water’s broken,” Beth observed.  “Help me get her off the dance floor.  I don’t think we’re gonna get to a hospital in time.  Isabella wants out now!”  By now, the crowd had gathered to offer assistance to the little miracle that would soon enter their lives.  All of the people touched by Sam that were still alive were here now to witness the birth of his grandchild.

“I’m gonna notify Daniel,” Donna said as she hurried to get her cell phone.

One of the leapees then stepped forward, revealing himself to be Phillip Mililani, Sammy Jo’s stepfather.  Reaching out, he grabbed his stepdaughter’s hand in his own.  “I’m here,” he told her.

Smiling bravely up at him, she asked Phillip, “Is mom here?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Just like you requested, I came up with an excuse to leave the hotel.  She thinks we’re still on our way to visit you in time before you give birth, not knowing that it was all planned for me to be here with you tonight.  Whatever your reasons, your mother has no knowledge of this party or of you being here.  Too bad the baby couldn’t wait a few more days.”

Sammy Jo nodded.  Deep down she knew there was no way that her mother Abigail could ever know about Sam Beckett.  It was simply enough that her stepfather understood why he had recently lost time in his life without knowing why and leave it at that.  With a nod of her head, she beckoned Al to come over.  As the Admiral grasped her other hand and smiled, his best friend’s daughter whispered into his ear, “Despite the wonders of Quantum Leaping you share with my father, I would never trade any of that for the ability to create life and the daughter I will soon share with the world.  Someday, I hope he will be a part of her life.”

“Speaking of sharing, it looks like someone else will share Sam’s birthday with him,” Al remarked as he waited with the rest of the room for the arrival.  Glancing past the bar, the Admiral thought he recognized a familiar overweight bartender behind the counter, grinning from ear to ear almost looking misty-eyed, holding up a glass of champagne as if to salute him.  Waiting for people to walk past him, Al looked again only to discover no one was behind the bar.  (*From “True Callings, Part III,” written by Greg Carey)

Doctor Sam Beckett once again felt the serenity of the warm blue light that enveloped every fiber of his being upon leaping.  The eternal void gradually faded from the quantum physicist’s eyesight, replaced by a large room with wooden mahogany walls.  As Sam’s vision cleared and the whining sound in his ears vanished, he realized that he was standing behind a large table.  At the front of the room was a high podium where a judge sat, dressed in a black robe.  He appeared to be in his early to mid-fifties, possibly older:  Sam couldn’t tell from where he was standing.  The nameplate read Judge Harold Shearer.  To the far right of him was an empty wooden booth where a jury would normally sit during a trial.

‘I’m in a courtroom,’ Sam realized.  ‘But there’s no jury; does that mean I’m at the arraignment, or the sentencing?’

As Sam looked around the courtroom, he saw a large crowd of people gathered in the pews behind him, sitting and watching the proceedings with deep interest.  Directly standing to his right was a middle-aged man in a business suit who Sam assumed must have been his lawyer.  It became readily apparent to Doctor Beckett that all eyes in the courtroom were focused on him.

Judge Shearer broke the silence by asking, “Does your client have trouble hearing, Mister Riley?”

“No, Your Honor,” the lawyer answered before turning his head to Sam in annoyance, whispering, “I can’t help you anymore, Leon.  Your fate is in the judge’s hands now.  He asked you to approach with counsel, so just follow me.”

Realizing that the judge had asked him to come forward before he leaped in, Sam began walking to the front of the room as the bailiff and several guards stood at the ready, in case he decided to do something stupid.  Sam couldn’t help but get a queasy feeling in his stomach as he wondered what sort of crime the leapee had committed to warrant such extreme security measures.  He didn’t need Al there to tell him that it was probably something especially heinous if the looks he received from the people around him were any indication.  The judge’s words brought Sam back to attention.

“After carefully considering all of the facts in this case, taking into account the brutal nature of the crimes which were indicative of wanton cruelty, the Court finds that the defendant has been found guilty on all twelve counts of murder in the first degree and has also been found guilty on all nine counts of rape and aggravated assault.”

Sam’s heart nearly stopped.  He expected that the judge was about to sentence him to death.  He had leaped into someone on death row once before and had no intention of putting himself there again.  What the judge said next, however, threw Sam for an even bigger loop.

“Therefore,” Judge Shearer continued, “it is the judgment of this Court that Mister Stiles be remanded to Oklahoma State Penitentiary for the duration of his life to serve each one of his life sentences, all running consecutively one after the other, without the possibility of parole.”

“Stiles?” Sam whispered to himself in shock.  “Leon Stiles?” he added as he remembered that his lawyer had called him Leon about thirty seconds earlier.

As the judge’s sentence came down, some people gasped as mixed emotions flooded the room.  “Order!” the judge announced as he banged his gavel down, reminding everyone to settle down until the proceedings were over.

All Sam could think of saying in response was,  “Oh boy!”

PART ONE

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Friday, October 16, 1959

15:25 CDT

Quantum leaping through Time has had its ups and downs.  Ending up back in the life of somebody I have been before typically was a good thing, because I got to see how I had helped them in a previous situation and was usually surrounded by familiar faces.  Finding myself back in the aura of Leon Stiles, however, could only possibly mean one thing:  trouble.

Sam’s mind was firing innumerable thoughts per second, the foremost being why he was there as Stiles.  It had been a long time since a thought of the multiple-murderer and rapist had crossed the leaper’s mind, and being back in the aura of such a despicable person was not exactly an ideal place to be.  As the judge continued to read off the list of offending crimes and the appropriate punishment for each one, Sam fell into a daze as he recalled the events of his first leap into Stiles and how scared he had felt.  It took a few minutes before Sam finally snapped out of his daydream and realized that the judge was once again addressing him.

“Mister Stiles, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Judge Shearer asked in a serious tone, his Southern accent lightly afflicting his words.

Looking to his right, Sam glanced at the face of the lawyer.  He seemed to have a strange mix of delight and somberness in his expression and gave a quick nod of approval.

“N-no, Your Honor,” Sam replied, hoping that he wasn’t going to have to be the one serving Stiles’s life sentence.

“Very well.  This hearing is adjourned!” the judge replied, slamming his gavel down on the desk.  “He’s all yours, Mister O’Neil.”

Sam suddenly felt a strong hand grab his right forearm followed soon after by the sensation of cold metal being quickly applied to his wrist, which caused him to wince in pain.  “Give me your other arm, Stiles,” O’Neil ordered as the lawyer, and everyone else in the courtroom, looked on.

The quantum physicist took a quick overview of the man as he held out his left hand.  O’Neil stood about six-feet tall, had a sharp-featured face with a medium-toned Caucasian complexion, and was dressed in a police-style uniform with a star-shaped badge stating “U.S. Marshal” on it.  The other half of the handcuff clasped around Sam’s wrist and, once again, his right arm was in the grasp of the bailiff.  Walking beside his captor with the lawyer following, Sam could only wish that Al, his guide from the future, would show up soon to let him know what exactly he was doing back in the life of Leon Stiles.

As they left the courtroom and entered the main hallway, flashbulbs started going off and questions were coming from left, right, and center.

“Mister Riley, do you think your client was given a fair sentence?”

“How did you manage to get Stiles out of the death penalty?  Isn’t that what the prosecution wanted?”

“What was it like defending such a notorious case?”

Marshal O’Neil continued through slowly with a firm grip on Sam’s right arm, not letting anybody stand in his way as the leaper kept his gaze toward the ground.  Riley, the lawyer, was following closely behind, giving the occasional single-word answer.  They were almost through the throng of reporters when Sam felt a strange sensation course through his being—a sensation that he had only experienced on a small number of occasions.  Looking up at the man with the grasp on his arm, his jaw dropped when the person standing there was no longer the bailiff that had escorted him from the courtroom.

“Connors!” Sam hissed, his eyes burning with anger as he ground to a halt, some memories of their most recent encounter coming back into his Swiss-cheesed mind.  Luckily for him, most of the media had their attention on the attorney instead of the marshal and his prisoner.

“B-Beckett?” Maxwell Connors replied quietly, temporarily confused after his leap in and immediately seeing another time-traveler.  “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” Doctor Beckett shot back in a low tone.  When he took a second to look ahead and saw the main entrance still a good walk away, he realized that standing in the middle of the hallway was probably not the best of ideas.  “Keep walking.  We don’t want to raise suspicion.”

As it was the rogue leaper’s mission to keep history as it was originally, he took Sam’s advice and they continued on immediately.  Only a few yards later, they were stopped again when a woman in the crowd, with a press pass pinned to her blouse, dropped her camera and charged at Sam with a knife.

“He deserves death!” she shouted.

Max let go of Sam and stepped in front of him, grabbing the crazed woman’s wrists in an attempt to wedge the knife from her grasp.  Members of the media turned their attention to the struggle as cameras began to flash in their direction.

“Let me go!” she screeched while she eyed Sam Beckett in the aura of Leon Stiles, who was approaching her, using what little mobility he had with his hands to aid Connors in disarming the blonde-haired fury.  Flashbulbs continued to fire off, making the scene feel like it was taking place during a violent thunderstorm. 

While the rogue leaper continued to hold her steady, Sam retrieved the knife from her hand as they heard heavy, quick footsteps approaching them.  As she glowered at Sam, her expression suddenly turned from one of complete despising to one of utter surprise.  “W-who are you?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixated on Sam’s face.  “You’re not Stiles!”

Before Sam could answer, three of the guards that had been on their way tackled him to the ground and disarmed him, thinking that he wanted the knife for his own reasons.  The other guard placed handcuffs on the confused and raving woman who continued to proclaim that the man being brought back to his feet was not Leon Stiles.  Sam watched as she was dragged away by two of the officers while the other two each maintained a strong grip on his arms.

“I’ll take it from here,” Connors said seriously over the din of the press as he motioned the guards to release Sam.  “He’s my prisoner now.  C’mon, Stiles.”  Favoring the other leaper with a glare, Sam complied, knowing that one more wrong move and he could be separated from Connors.

As he continued walking down the corridor, Sam couldn’t help but remember the first time he had leaped into Stiles.  Al had needed to track the killer down after he managed to escape the Project, which in turn required Gooshie to fill in as the Project Observer on a temporary basis.  ‘God only knows what kind of trouble that madman is causing in the Waiting Room this time,’ Sam thought as the knots in his stomach already began to form.

Project Quantum Leap Waiting Room

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

Tuesday, August 8, 2006

18:58 MDT

“Stay back,” Stiles ordered to Ike as he held Verbena Beeks in a stranglehold, “or this colored bitch will have her head on backwards!”

“Okay,” Ike Bentenhoff gently reassured, “just take it easy and no one will get hurt.  You’re not going to be harmed, I assure you, but right now, you need to let her go and take it easy.  Then, we can talk.”

“Not until you tell me where I am and how I got here!” Stiles shouted before taking a glance of recognition at the Waiting Room’s blue walls.  “This place… I REMEMBER bein’ here!  But I can’t remember WHEN!  TELL ME…or I’ll snap her NECK!!”

Unsure of what else to say, Ike knew he needed to stall for time until either Commander Fulton or Corporal Heston could make it down there.  “Okay, um, well, we call this the Waiting Room.  This woman was just coming in here to ask you some simple questions, that’s all.”

“WHAT KINDA QUESTIONS?!” demanded Stiles as he kept his arms locked tightly around Verbena’s neck.  Ike could see the fear in the psychiatrist’s eyes and knew that this situation had to be handled with as much sensitivity as possible.

“Basic questions, really,” Ike said calmly.  “Your name, where you came from…”

“I ain’t tellin’ nobody nothin’ until I get outta here!” the leapee shouted back.

“We can’t let you out; trust me, it’s for your own protection.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Stiles tried to recall.  “It wasn’t you, though; some old guy with a bright yellow suit—and then, some weird-lookin’ guy with red hair and bad breath came walkin’ along.  He called me… BECKETT!!  Who the hell is Beckett?!  Tell me or this nigger whore dies!”

“Let her go, whoever you are,” the booming voice of Commander Daniel Fulton announced from the now-ajar Waiting Room door, where he stood holding a military-issued semi-automatic pistol.  It took every ounce of his willpower to put aside his uneasiness of aiming his weapon at the aura of his father-in-law.  But, Daniel knew he had a job to do, and that job was protecting the security of the Project.

“Nuh-uh!” Stiles countered.  “I also seem to remember the old geezer tellin’ someone else that he couldn’t kill me otherwise this ‘Doctor Beckett’ person could never get back.  It was someone just like you—a guard or somebody like that.”

As much as Daniel hated to admit it, the Visitor had a point—although, it didn’t seem to stop Sam from leaping before.  He could specifically remember there being a time a few years back when the Visitor died in the Waiting Room and Sam leaped anyway—albeit, a bizarre out-of-body experience occurred as a result.

“Besides,” Stiles dared as he and his hostage started moving slowly toward the door, “I’m guessin’ this colored is important to all o’ you.  You shoot me, you might kill her too.  A big gamble either way.”

Never taking his eyes off Sam’s aura, Daniel decided to take that gamble by saying, “Well, then I guess you need to ask yourself just one question:  ‘Do I feel lucky?’”

Not getting the reference, Stiles inched forward into the corridor and called Daniel’s bluff, causing Daniel and Ike to slowly back up in response.  “I’m bettin’ you don’t.  Now, look here, this colored girl is my ticket outta here.  Anybody tries somethin’, she’ll be takin’ a permanent nap!  YOU!”  Stiles looked in Ike’s direction.  “How do we get outta here?”

Gesturing toward the wall on his right, Ike answered nervously, “J-just take that elevator up ten levels and you’re there.”

“You won’t get very far, I can tell you that much,” Daniel reiterated.

“That’s why this woman is my hostage,” Stiles explained with a crazed look in his eyes.  “No one will do anythin’ as long as I’ve got her life in my hands.”

As Stiles dragged Verbena toward the elevator hatch waiting for it to open, it was at that exact moment when the head programmer, Dominic Lofton, exited the car and bumped into both of them, tumbling over in the process.  Caught off guard, Stiles released his tight hold on Verbena and she fell to the floor.  Ike dove to the ground and covered her while Daniel carefully took the shot he was waiting for.  It nicked Stiles across the shoulder of his Fermi suit leaving little more than a flesh wound.

Stumbling backward over Dom’s body, Stiles quickly scurried toward the elevator hatch and almost made it into the car when Daniel yelled out, “ZIGGY!  Activate Security Protocol Elesee-One-Alpha!”

Before Stiles could escape, an infrared force field surrounded Stiles, shocking his body into unconsciousness as he collapsed on the floor of the corridor.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Daniel knelt down beside Ike as the two men both helped Verbena back up.  “Are you all right, Verbena?” Daniel asked.

“A— A little shaken up, but… I-I’ll be fine,” Verbena answered back shakily.

“All the same, I think we’d better have Aurora check you over,” Daniel suggested.

“I said I’ll be fine,” Verbena shot back, a bit tersely that time.

“This isn’t open to discussion.  I’m in command at the moment and I want to make sure that you’re okay.  Now, let Ike take you down to the Infirmary.  That’s an order!”

Realizing that Daniel was right, Verbena complied, “All right.  What about the Visitor?”

“Don’t worry about him.  Dom and I will get him back into the Waiting Room and seal it off.  Until Al gets back, the chamber is off-limits.  And after Aurora checks you over, inform her that we need to have the Visitor sedated.”

Nodding, Verbena entered the elevator hatch with Ike as the door closed behind them.  Dom then proceeded to brush himself off and said, “I guess it’s a good thing I came along when I did.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Daniel replied.  “Let’s get this nutcase back into the Waiting Room and see if we can figure out who the Hell Sam’s leaped into this time.  I think we’d better get in touch with Al at that convention and tell him to get back here ASAP.”

“That’s actually why I came down here to find you.  Donna called from there about five minutes ago asking for you.  Sammy Jo has just gone into labor.  According to Beth, the baby might be born in as little as an hour.”

“WHAT?!” Daniel shouted as he dropped his grip on the unconscious form of Stiles.  “Oh boy,” he groaned just before he fainted.

“Actually, I thought Sammy Jo was having a girl,” Dom said with a smirk.

The back-roads of Oklahoma

Friday, October 16, 1959

18:48 CDT

After a little more than three hours of travel, including multiple stops to accept more prisoners, Sam was still wondering what repercussions on the timeline would result from Connors saving him from the woman who wanted to kill Stiles.  He had no idea if Stiles was supposed to have survived the attack or not.  The two men had not said anything to one another since they were in the courthouse in Oklahoma City, mostly because Connors was being kept at the front of the bus while Sam was confined to the very back seat.  Doctor Beckett was beginning to get anxious for information about the situation, whether it was from his fellow time-traveler or from his holographic observer.

Try as he might, the quantum physicist could not figure out a way to talk to Connors.  He had attempted asking the other guards to summon his escorting marshal, but they just ignored his request.  Once he tried calling out to “O’Neil” and received a rather powerful blow to the stomach to shut him up.  Despite the fear of further discipline, Sam called over the nearest guard, the one who had struck him earlier.  The nametag on his left breast read “Hartman.”

“Officer Hartman, could I please have a word with Marshal O’Neil?  It concerns what happened earlier at the courthouse,” he said, watching as a fist began to form at the end of Hartman’s right arm.  As he was raising his arm to quiet the prisoner a second time, a hand grabbed the guard’s bicep.

“It’s all right, I’ll talk to him,” came the voice of Doctor Connors from behind.  A sneer crossed Hartman’s face as he looked down at Sam, lowered his arm, and sat back down in his seat, carefully watching Max as he sat beside Sam.

“What is it, Stiles?” Connors asked with a slight smile of arrogance on his lips.  “You’d better make this quick.”

“Knock it off, Connors,” Sam whispered back, taking a glance at the setting sun and noticing his reflection in the window.  Seeing the face of Stiles faintly reflected in the glass reminded him how careful he had to be.  “I just want to know why we’re here.”

Max considered revealing some of the information that he had received from Morpheus, but decided against it.  “You know as much as I do, Beckett.  I’m the marshal and you’re the prisoner.  And from what I gather, you’re going away for a looong time.”  The smile on his lips widened into a smirk.

Gritting his teeth, Sam managed to maintain his composure.  ‘Don’t let him get to you, Sam,’ he mused.  “Fine.  If you’re not going to tell me anything, then at least let me thank you for saving me back there.  Is that what happened in the original history?”

“I told you, I don’t know.  It just felt like the right thing to do, so don’t read too much into it.  I would’ve done it if you were the real Leon Stiles,” replied the other leaper.  Unfortunately, he also didn’t know if Stiles was supposed to die in the original history or not.  Morpheus had given him little information on the situation.

“Why did that woman say that I wasn’t Stiles?” Sam wondered aloud.  “If I didn’t know any better, I could swear she saw me and not my aura.”

“She was probably just some fanatic who wanted Stiles dead.  I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”  Standing up, Connors said louder, “I don’t think I have anything more to say to you, Stiles.  Just keep quiet or next time I won’t stop Hartman here from teaching you your lesson.”  Hartman heard the comment and also stood up to stare Sam down with a cold stare.

“Now, if you’ll excuse—” the rogue leaper started to say, but he was cut off when there was a sudden ruckus of voices at the front of the bus.  The vehicle began swerving from side to side, tossing Connors and Hartman into an empty seat.  Each time they tried to stand back up, the violent force of the bus would toss them in the opposite direction as it sailed off the road and across a rough patch of field.  Finally, the prison transport came to a halt and threw all passengers from their seats, the deafening sound of metal meeting trees resounding in their ears before they lost consciousness.

PART TWO

Somewhere off the back-roads of Oklahoma

Friday, October 16, 1959

19:07 CDT

Once the darkness subsided and his awareness started to return, Sam Beckett flinched at the pounding headache that began to plague him as he brought his head up from his chest.  Blinking a couple of times, the leaper saw that the prison bus had been turned on its side and he was sitting in the corner, half on the back seat and half on the window.

“Connors?” Sam called out as he attempted to find his footing in the slanted vehicle.  The sound of a fire burning caught his attention and he could see a flickering light at the front end of the bus.  “Connors!  Wake up!”

Roused by the sound of someone yelling his name, Max Connors groggily opened his eyes and managed a painful moan.  Like Sam, he also had a terrible headache, but could not find the energy to speak.  He then felt a hand on his shoulder and the blurry figure of Doctor Beckett came into his field of vision.

“Connors, there’s a fire.  We have to get these people outta here before it reaches the gas tank!  I don’t think anyone else is awake!” Sam yelled, giving the man a gentle shake.

“I… I can’t move.  Head hurts,” Connors replied in a hushed tone.

Grunting in exasperation, Sam began walking toward the front of the bus, checking each person’s medical status as he went along.  Much to his despair, the majority of them had died in the crash, many with fatal wounds to the head.  There were three unconscious prisoners in addition to Hartman, Max, and himself who’d survived.  Sam realized that there would be the opportunity to mourn later, and starting with the survivors closest to the door he commenced to drag them out on his own, despite the handcuffs that seriously hindered his efforts.  When the three criminals were at a safe distance, he ran back into the bus and made his way to the back.

“How do you feel, Max?” Sam questioned, concern obvious in his tone as he felt the other leaper’s pulse.  “Can you move?”

Maxwell Connors was not used to requiring aid, at least not like that.  He wasn’t about to admit that he needed Sam Beckett’s help.  “I think so,” he replied as he propped himself up with his arms, hissing at the rush of pain to his temples while a wave of dizziness came over him.  “What’s going on?”

“I told you, there’s a fire.  Everybody’s dead except Hartman and three prisoners that I already got out.  You’ve gotta help me with Hartman because I don’t think we have time to make two trips.”  Although Sam had no idea how much longer they had, he certainly didn’t want to waste any of what time remained and risk having a survivor of the crash end up a victim of an explosion.  The quantum physicist offered his hand to Doctor Connors in order to help him up.

With a sigh, Max stuck out his hand and allowed Sam to help him to his feet.  “You all right?” Sam asked as he let go to place his cuffed hands beneath one of Hartman’s underarms.

“I don’t know,” Connors answered back as he swayed, grabbing a seat for support on the tilted bus.

“Well, just get yourself off the bus,” Sam ordered as he began dragging the guard along, trying his best to not get caught on anything during his fourth rescue.  “This thing could blow at any minute!”

Heeding Doctor Beckett’s warning, Max followed behind, not feeling as though he would do any good by lifting Hartman’s feet because it would probably land both of them on their backs again.  Once they reached the door, which as a result of the crash was now facing more downward and a few feet from the ground, Sam lowered Hartman down and jumped out to continue hauling the man toward safety through the long grass.  When the way out was clear, Max jumped out as well, stumbling as he became more lightheaded.

“Hurry up, Connors!” Sam called when he saw Max staggering as he followed.  He set Hartman down beside the three prisoners and saw that Connors seemed to be losing his ability to walk.

Just as Sam started running toward the other leaper, the fire heated the gas tank of the bus just enough to make it combust and an explosion rocked the ground, knocking both time-travelers off their feet.  The sound of debris falling surrounded Sam as he got back up and charged toward Connors, who was trying to stand up as well.  Doctor Beckett grabbed Max by the arm and threw it over his shoulders, supporting the man as they retreated to join the other survivors, where they both collapsed in a heap.

“Let me take a look at you,” Sam said as he began examining Connors.  His mouth went agape when he saw a small triangle of shrapnel lodged in the other man’s skull.  “You have a piece of metal stuck in your head, Max.”

“Take it out… please,” Doctor Connors whispered, fearing the severity of the injury.  Carefully, Sam removed the shrapnel, making sure that nothing remained in the scalp and that no heavy bleeding started.  He was satisfied that the wound was of no further danger, although it would need a bandage, and shifted his position.

“There,” said Sam, allowing Max to rest his head on the ground.

“Guess we’re even now, eh, Beckett?” Connors commented with a grin before submitting to unconsciousness once again.

Project Quantum Leap Control Room

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

Tuesday, August 8, 2006

22:51 MDT

Nearly four hours had passed since the leapee arrived and Ziggy still had not been able to find Sam’s signal in Time.  With Al and Donna gone to provide moral support for Sammy Jo during her delivery, it fell to both Dom and Ike to man Ziggy’s main station and find the solution on their own.  Even with the help of the ditzy but brilliant pulse communications technician, Tina Martinez-O’Farrell, they didn’t seem to be making much headway.

“Ziggy, recheck that last algorithm,” Dom ordered.  “There has to be a logical explanation for why the e-probe isn’t picking up Doctor Beckett’s brainwave patterns.”

“I have already rechecked it twice, Professor Lofton,” Ziggy’s sexy silicon voice announced.  “I do not believe the problem lies within the epochtonusalgraphic probe, but rather the situation that Doctor Beckett has found himself in, whatever that may be.”

“It sounds like you’re implying that there’s, like, some kind of outside interference jamming the signal,” Tina commented.

“That is precisely what I am implying, Doctor O’Farrell,” the hybrid computer replied smugly, almost sounding as if it had reached an epiphany.  “Before Doctor Beckett’s signal was blocked, I was able to detect that he had leaped into a male host somewhere in the Midwestern United States in the year Nineteen Fifty-Nine.  However, based on what the Visitor said when he first arrived, I have logically deduced that he has been here once before, which significantly narrows down the search to former Visitors from Nineteen Fifty-Three to Nineteen Fifty-Nine.  Add to that the mental instability and hostile nature of the Visitor upon his arrival and the search is narrowed down even further.”

“How long will it take before you have a positive ID match on Doctor Beckett’s current host?” Dom asked.

“I believe I have already deduced into whom Doctor Beckett has leaped.”

After five seconds of silence, Dom rolled his eyes and added, “Well?”

“A minute temporal fluctuation has been detected at fifteen hundred twenty–four hours Central Daylight Time on October Sixteenth, Nineteen Fifty-Nine in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.  I predict with ninety-eight point one percent accuracy that Doctor Beckett has leaped into the serial killer Leon Randolph Stiles, an illiterate drifter who was responsible for the murders of at least eight women in three states and was brought to justice by Sheriff John Hoyt on June Eighteenth, Nineteen Fifty-Eight.”

“Oh my God!” Ike exclaimed.  “This is not good.  We have to inform Al immediately.  We need him back here pronto.”

“Who was Leon Stiles?” Dom asked innocently.

Ike shook his head, remembering the first time Stiles had been a visitor.  “He’s the only leapee that ever managed to escape the complex.  A guard was escorting Al into the Waiting Room.  Before either of them knew what was going on, Stiles knocked out the guard, grabbed his gun, and held Al up at gunpoint.  I’ll tell you more about it later.  Right now, we need to get in touch with Al and see how long it will take him to get back here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dom said.  “You two work on getting Sam’s link established in the Imaging Chamber.  I may have to fill in for Al until he gets back.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Tina commented.  “Didn’t you, like, have to do that once before?”

“Briefly, but it was only for a few minutes,” Dom confirmed.  “We weren’t dealing with Sam having leapt into a cold-blooded killer, though.  There’s no telling what’s going on with Sam’s leap right now, and it probably doesn’t help that he’s had no contact with the Project in almost four hours.  I sure hope Al is in a good mood,” Dom said as he stepped into the elevator hatch and headed for the Communications Level.

Interstate 25, New Mexico

Tuesday, August 8, 2006

22:57 MDT

As Al drove along the highway that ran along the outskirts of Project Quantum Leap, he reflected on the impact that Sam’s leaps had on history and the huge amount of people that were affected by them.  The banquet hall of the hotel had been packed with literally hundreds of people, and yet, that amount was likely only a fraction of the total number of people that were directly affected by Sam’s presence in the past.  The thought brought a smile to the Admiral’s face.

Then, his thoughts drifted back to Sammy Jo and the birth of her daughter, Isabella.  Daniel had made it to Albuquerque just in time to witness Beth helping Sammy Jo in delivering the newborn into the world. Donna, Stephen, and Beth all decided to stay behind for a while to help Daniel get Sammy Jo and the baby to the nearest hospital and administer them into the maternity ward—which left Al to make the long drive back to Stallion’s Gate alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his car-phone beeping.  Bringing himself back to reality, Al pressed a button to switch the speakerphone on and said, “Admiral Calavicci here.”

“Admiral, it’s Dom,” replied the voice on the other end of the line.

“Lofty, what’s going on?  Did Sam leap?”

“Yeah, four hours ago.  We’ve been trying to make contact with Sam, but something’s been blocking his signal.  Ziggy wasn’t able to break through the interference until about six minutes ago.  She’s also detecting a minor fluctuation in the timeline.  Something changed that wasn’t supposed to happen, but we won’t know more until someone gets into the Imaging Chamber and gets a lock on Sam.  I would’ve informed you sooner, but we couldn’t reach you after Donna called.”

Sighing, Al said, “It’s okay, Dom.  It wouldn’t be the first time that that bucket of bolts gave us some problems tracking Sam.”

“I heard that, Admiral,” Ziggy’s voice announced over the phone.

“Get off the line, Ziggy!” Al shouted.  “Jeez, haven’t you ever heard of invasion of privacy?”

“There’s more, Al,” Dom continued, the nervousness evident in his voice.  It didn’t go unnoticed by Al.  “Apparently, Sam has leaped into someone that he leaped into once before.”

“That doesn’t happen very often,” Al said in response.  “Did Beeks find out who the leapee is?”

“Umm, well… yes and no.  She’s, um… a bit rattled from her encounter with… er, him, but afterward, Ziggy was able to determine his identity.”

Hearing the way that Dom was stuttering, Al could sense that Dom was holding something back.  “Lofty,” he pushed, “just come out with it.  Whom did Sam leap into?”

“Before I tell you, Al, just know that we’ve got the situation under control.  The leapee is sedated and restrained in the Waiting Room.”

“Dominic, WHO?” barked Al.

“Leon Stiles,” Dom answered, barely above a whisper.

Upon hearing the name Stiles, Al’s face turned as white as a ghost as he said, “Oh boy!  Listen, Dom, I’m about an hour and a half away, but I’ll try to pick up speed a little bit.  You may need to step into the I.C. and go talk with Sam until I get back.”

“Already one step ahead of you on that one, Al.  Tina and Ike are already prepping the Imaging Chamber, but it’s still going to take a while for it to reach full power because of the interference on Sam’s end.  I just wanted to apprise you of the situation before doing anything.”

“I appreciate that, Dom,” Al reassured the head programmer.

“Don’t worry, Sam will be in good hands until you get back.  Dom out.”  The last words were followed by a clicking sound, and Al pressed the button again to hang up the connection.

The Admiral took in a deep breath and exhaled, thinking about the man who would have killed him seven years earlier if he hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest.  He could only hope that Sam could survive the new situation he found himself in, whatever it was.

Somewhere in the woodlands of Oklahoma

Friday, October 16, 1959

20:38 CDT

Sam Beckett had been left alone with his thoughts since the evacuation from the flaming wreck of the prison bus.  Surrounding him were five unconscious men who had yet to awaken, much to his surprise.  Not wanting to leave any of them alone, the leaper alternated in moving each of them farther away from the crash site and deeper into the woods for cover.  Without any contact with the Project, Sam had no way of knowing if rescue vehicles would be on the way or not; it was 1959 and an accident had occurred on country roads after sundown.  Most of the farmers would have been heading to bed at the time of the accident and explosion, and Doctor Beckett could only do what felt right—protect his fellow survivors.

Wanting two things—a first-aid kit and some water—Sam realized that neither was at hand.  Even if there had been a first-aid kit on the bus, it surely had been destroyed when the gas tank exploded.  Beyond that, there didn’t seem to be any body of water in the vicinity.  To top it all off, his wrists were beginning to chafe from the handcuffs and it reduced his manual dexterity severely.

Despite the lack of medical supplies and the hindrance on his hands, Doctor Beckett commenced to rip part of the prison uniform he was wearing to create a bandage for Max Connors’ head wound.  Except for a possible broken arm for Officer Hartman, none of the other four seemed to be seriously injured.

“Where are you, Al?” Sam whispered to himself as he began dressing Max’s head.  He jumped slightly when his patient replied.

“What are you doing?” Connors asked hoarsely as his eyes opened lazily.

“I’m putting a bandage on your wound.  Hold still,” Sam ordered.  “None of the other men have woken up yet.  Do you know what we’re here for?”

Connors was quiet for a moment, a pained expression on his face.  It didn’t get by Sam while he finished tying up the bandage.  “What?  What is it?”

Max licked his lips and was quiet again while Sam waited impatiently for an answer.  “Morpheus hasn’t contacted me since the accident,” he finally said.  “He never goes this long without giving me some kind of update.”

“Morpheus?” Sam asked, confused about the name.  “Is that your hologram?”

Shaking his head slowly, Connors explained, “Morpheus was the super-computer I designed to operate the Second Genesis Project.  Ever since I started leaping, he has been my only guide.”

“I sort of remember,” Sam tried to recall.  “Kind of like Ziggy, but… different.  How is Morpheus contacting you, though?  I thought it was destroyed when I contained the explosion.”

“His program was connected to my brainwave patterns, much like ‘Ziggy’ is connected with yours,” Connors explained.  “When you and I both stepped into my Accelerator, something happened during the energy transfer that mutated the effect.  Morpheus’s mainframe was destroyed, but the actual program somehow grafted itself onto my brainwave patterns, allowing me to communicate with it during my leaps.  I guess you could say that Morpheus became a ‘sentient’ program.  Unfortunately… I now fear that the injury I’ve sustained has permanently damaged the program, the connection, or both.”

Sam Beckett looked at the other quantum leaper with worry.  He knew what it was like to feel isolated from one’s source of information.  “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had any contact at all with my project.”

“I guess you’ve been abandoned, too, Beckett?” Connors asked with sarcasm.

Before Sam had a chance to respond to the other man’s statement, he heard a voice behind him say, “Sam!”

Turning around, preparing to berate Al for his tardiness, Sam was surprised to see a well-groomed black man standing in his stead holding the handlink as the white rectangular door closed behind him.  “Who… are you?”

“You don’t remember me, Doctor Beckett?  I’m Dominic Lofton, the head programmer,” Dom answered.  “I apologize for being so late.  Al has been out of the complex dealing with a… situation, but he’s on his way back here now.  Since our brainwaves are compatible without the use of bio-chips, I’m filling in for him until he gets back, which should be very soon.”

Concerned about that statement, Sam nervously asked, “What situation?  Please don’t tell me that Stiles escaped again!”

“Um… no, we’ve got him sedated in the Waiting Room,” Dom reassured.  “Al’s absence has nothing to do with the leap, so don’t worry about that, Sam.”

“Well, that’s a relief.  What about, uh, what’s-her-name?” Sam asked.  “The one who usually fills in for Al when he’s indisposed?  Doctor Fuller?  Fulton?  Something like that?”

“Right on both counts, Sam.  Well… technically, Sammy Jo goes by ‘Doctor Fulton’ nowadays.”  Almost forgetting that Sam had to remain on a need-to-know basis, he added, “She’s, um… also…”

“Indisposed.  You know, sometimes it seems like the whole Project gets ‘indisposed’ at the worst possible times,” Sam said sarcastically.

“You have no idea,” Dom mumbled to himself.

“Pardon?”

Suddenly noticing the presence of the rogue leaper, Dom quickly changed the subject and commented, “Damn it, Doctor Connors is here?  Well, that might explain the reason for the interference and why we had a hard time getting a lock on you.  It could also explain the odd readings Ziggy’s been getting.”

“What odd readings?”

“Oh great, let me guess,” Connors interrupted, “your hybrid computer has detected me, hasn’t it?”

“According to Ziggy,” Dom continued, “Leon Stiles was supposed to have been stabbed and killed by a woman disguised as a reporter, just as he was being led away to the transport bus that would have brought him to Oklahoma State Penitentiary to serve his sentence.  But, obviously, that’s been changed somehow.”

“Yeah, Connors saved me.  You mean Stiles was supposed to die all along?” Sam asked.

“WHAT?” Connors shot back.  “But… I didn’t even know; it all happened so fast.  Morpheus didn’t…tell me….”

“What did he tell you?” Sam queried, but when Connors didn’t clarify, Dom continued.

“You see, Sam, in the original history—or rather, the ‘new’ original history that you created from leaping into Stiles the first time—Stiles had killed eight women, mostly prostitutes in their late teens or early twenties.  His last victim, however, managed to escape before she would have been killed otherwise she would have been Victim Number Nine.  She then went to the authorities and gave them a detailed description of her rapist; that’s how Stiles was eventually tracked down and apprehended in Oklahoma.  But not before he managed to accidentally kill Sheriff John Hoyt’s ten-year-old daughter, who happened to be with him at the time.

“When Stiles escaped custody, he succeeded in killing three deputies before breaking into the home of one Carol Pruitt and taking her and her daughter, Becky, hostage—which is when you leaped in the first time.  Hoyt would have killed you if Carol hadn’t talked him out of it.  Ultimately, Stiles was convicted on twelve counts of murder in the first degree along with nine counts of rape and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.  At the sentencing hearing, it was Carol’s testimony that helped convince enough members of the jury not to push for the death penalty, probably in no small part thanks to the effect you had on her, Sam.  She believed that life in prison was a suitable enough punishment for someone like Stiles and that only God had the right to decide whether someone should live or die.  Because the jury wasn’t unanimous, they were dismissed from service, and the judge gave Stiles life in prison without the possibility of parole.  But before Stiles even got out of the courthouse, a crazed woman got close to him, screaming something about how he deserved to die.  Then she stabbed him and was hauled away by the guards while Stiles bled to death.”

“And no one tried to save him?” Sam asked, horrified.

“This is Oklahoma City, Nineteen Fifty-Nine, Doctor Beckett.  Stiles was a cold-blooded serial killer who mercilessly stalked and preyed on innocent young women.  Carol Pruitt forgave him, but not many people really held much sympathy for the bastard.  Sheriff Hoyt was even quoted afterward as saying that Stiles got what he deserved even though he couldn’t get himself to pull the trigger when he had the chance.”

“But wasn’t that what I was there to change all those years ago?  To stop Hoyt from killing Stiles?”

“Correct, but the reason was so that Hoyt wouldn’t ruin his own career over an act of vengeance; that, and also preventing Becky Pruitt from getting killed in the crossfire.  That was the reason you leaped into Stiles the first time—for Hoyt and Becky, not for Stiles.”

“So then, why in the Hell did I leap into Stiles this time, if history didn’t need to be changed?” Sam demanded.

“We don’t know, but Ziggy says there’s a sixty-two percent probability that Doctor Connors himself may be the reason you’ve both leaped into this situation.  Apparently, this accident was never supposed to happen in any of the previous timelines.  Somehow, the presence of both you and Connors have made things worse.”

“What is your observer saying, Beckett?” Connors gritted through his teeth as he tried to fight back the wave of dizziness and nausea that was beginning to overwhelm him from his injury.

Sam took a moment to relay the information Dom told him to the rogue leaper.  After Sam had finished, Connors had a shocked expression on his face.

“This can’t be right!  How could I have leaped into this time period and caused the very anomaly that I was trying to prevent?  It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well, whatever the reason,” Dom stated, “you both better figure out something fast, because Ziggy now says that everyone in your group—including the two of you—will be found dead when the search party arrives in the pre-dawn hours!”

“Oh boy,” Sam groaned.

PART THREE

Somewhere in the woodlands of Oklahoma

Friday, October 16, 1959

21:05 CDT

After Dom left, I informed Connors of our new situation.  With his link to Morpheus severed—perhaps forever—he no longer had the ability to directly track the source of any time anomalies he might stumble upon—at least, that’s what he told me.  So now it came down to simple survival instincts.  We both agreed that, for now, we had a common goal:  to find shelter for ourselves and everyone else who survived that deadly bus accident.  My medical skills were possibly the only thing that would ensure the success of our