VIRTUAL SEASONS EPISODES

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.

Summary of Part III:

The magic, happiness, and pixie dust of the Magic Kingdom couldn’t fully reach Sam as he himself tried to reach Russ, succeeding in fits and starts, it seemed.  His concern for Russ increased when an unexpected vision tormented him in the midst of the spooky silliness of the Haunted Mansion.  Despite his every attempt to stick like glue to Russ’ side, Sam found that the young man managed to give him the slip.  Finally having broken through both the Lovet-Hurston and the Disney computers, Al delivered the unfortunate news to Sam that the truth about Russ’ disappearance had been uncovered—the young man jumped to his death from their resort balcony.  Sam’s determination to prevent Russ’ death took an unexpected turn when he was advised to relinquish control from an unexpected quarter.

PART ONE

Magic Kingdom

Walt Disney World

Friday, September 12, 1997

6:52 PM

Once back at the Magic Kingdom, the group got out of the mainstream flow of people, the majority now being those who had come for the Nights of Joy, to discuss how to fill the time until it was time for the concert to start.

Juanita pulled a well-creased and folded flyer from the pocket of her slacks and opened it, scanning it quickly.  "The concert starts at 8:30 and it's…" she glanced at her wristwatch.  "7:00 now.  So... we could go get our wristbands and then..." she hesitated, glancing around the group. "Stick around for the fireworks."

"What about staking out a sweet spot?" Skip brought up that important point.  Almost as a single unit, five sets of eyes turned toward Sam. It took two seconds for him to put two and two together.

"Oh come on, no fair," he protested somewhat. "Why me?"

Ginger grinned as she stepped over to Sam and slipped her arm through his, leaning her head on his shoulder.  "Why not you... Howie?"

"You really think that's going to sway me?" he demanded, his tone telling her that he wasn't really mad.

"Make you a deal," Ginger continued to barter with the guy she considered to be one of her best friends. 

"I'm listening... sort of," Sam responded warily.

Skip grinned, nudging Russ lightly with his elbow. "Watch this," he whispered.

"If you'll stake out the sweet spot..."

"When we find it," Karen piped up.

"Yeah, when we find it," Ginger continued. "Then... then all punishments are rescinded."

"And that entails exactly what?" Sam asked; he wanted specifics from this sneaky if sweet redhead.

Ginger straightened up and faced Sam now. "That means that you don't have to wear the Goofy cap any more. And you don't have to wear the Fozzie Bear shirt AND the Goofy cap on the plane trip home." Her eyes twinkled as she demanded lightly, "So, is it a deal?"

Sam looked around the group, seeing only grins then back to she with the bargaining chip. "Deal," he said.

Skip laughed aloud, giving Russ a light slap on the shoulder.  "Ginger can charm the birds outta the trees."  Going over to Sam, he told him, "My only word of advice to you, Dude, is to make a stop at one of the restrooms before you take up your post. Because once the people start filling in, the lines are going to be soooo long!"

"Thanks, Skip... I went at the restaurant, remember?" Sam grinned. 

They fell in the line to exchange their Night of Joy tickets for wristbands authorizing them to remain in the park for the exclusive event.

"You missed some good dessert, too," joked Russ as they waited their turn.

"I didn't think I took THAT long," Sam said.

"Dude," Skip said, turning around, "Chip, Dale, AND Donald made the rounds... AND we got the check.  What happened?  Mac and cheese too rich for you?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam shrugged.

"Like I said," Skip said, as it was his turn to swap ticket for a wristband, "you better go before you start saving the spot in front of the castle.  I wanna be RIGHT there when S-C-squared launches into 'The Great Adventure.'  What a song, man!  What a song!"

"Yeah, it's great," Sam covered, hoping his enthusiasm sounded authentic.  "Don't you agree, Russ?"

Russ, tilted his head to the side.  "It's all right," he said.

"Just all right?" enthused Skip, waving his wrist that now bore a bright green wristband.  "Man, that song is what it's all about! 

'Saddle up your horses, we've got a trail to blaze...

Through the wild blue yonder of God's amazing grace,'" he sang, stepping aside to let Sam and Russ have access to the patient Cast Member.  "'Let's follow our Leader, into the glorious unknown...

This is a life like no other, ohhhh, this is the Great Adventure!'"^d

Russ appeared to have gotten beyond the conversation back at the restaurant, evidenced as he made a show of putting his hands over his ears until Skip's enthusiastic rendition of the song had ended. "God made the deaf to hear, the lame to walk, and the blind to see," he said to Skip. "Unfortunately, helping the tone deaf to sing on key wasn't on His list."

Skip pulled a face at Russ as the girls and Sam chuckled in spite of themselves.

"Yeah, well, maybe so," Skip defended his vocal skills as they all moved away from the Cast Member to allow others to have access to getting a wristband. "But the Bible doesn't say a thing about singing on key... just to make a joyful noise before the Lord..."

Sam couldn't help himself. "In that case Skip, you are covered from top to bottom, front and back, and all the way around."

"Ha, ha, ha," Skip said as they entered the park, walking beneath the Main Street station to transition completely into the world of nostalgia and make-believe.

Since they weren't in a rush, they took more time to appreciate the detail afforded to Main Street, U.S.A.  The Victorian era buildings were exquisitely designed, each shop and doorway meticulously maintained and decorated.  As they walked down the street, their attention was drawn to the castle.

"That's where he's going to be!" Karen enthused, tugging at Ginger's arm excitedly.

"Yes, Karen," Ginger said, rolling her eyes.  "Sheesh, you're as bad as Skip."

"Hey!  I resemble that remark!" Skip said, pushing his floppy hair off his forehead.  "Front row for S-C-squared, here we come!"  He and Karen linked arms and began walking toward the castle, splaying their legs sideways as they did so.  Giving Sam and Russ a meaningful look, Skip started singing loudly and off-key, "Here we come... walking down the street... we get the funniest looks from... everyone we meet!"

"Oh, give me a break!" groaned Russ.  He pointed as they drew close to the castle.  "Looks like one last round of character Meet'N'Greets before they start getting ready for the fireworks."

"Front and center, Howie," Ginger called out.

Hearing Ginger calling Howie's name, Sam sighed then dutifully presented himself to her. Of course that meant scanning the already bustling, busy area until he saw her waving madly. "Okay, I'm here. Now what?"

Ginger glanced around the area where she stood then looked at Sam.  "You plant... yourself right here," she said, walking off the boundary of the area the six of them would occupy. "And repel all who would encroach on this..."

"If you say hallowed ground," Sam warned, "the deal's off." For a moment it was a battle of twinkling eyes and determined eyes. Determined won. 

"...area," she finished, conceding the point to her friend. "Meanwhile, the rest of will check out where the refreshment stands and restrooms are and....whatever else comes to mind between now and when the fireworks start.  Which will be in about a half hour or so." Fixing Sam with a mock-stern look, she said, "You have your orders. Deserters will get back all previously rescinded punishments."  Glancing over at Karen, Ginger waved her along.  "Let's go check out the merchandise areas.  There are a couple of CDs I want to get."

The girls disappeared and Sam looked at Russ and Skip.  "She doesn't honestly expect me to forbid people to stand in an area large enough for six of us, does she?"

Skip shrugged.  "You agreed to her terms, bucko."  He punched Russ lightly on the shoulder.  "Wanna give the Tea Cups another spin?"

"Sure," Russ said, grinning broadly.

"You guys are LEAVING me?" Sam complained.

In response, the duo waved goodbye to him and proceeded up the ramp to go through the castle to Fantasyland.

"Great, just great," Sam muttered as he watched them go.  He looked helplessly around at the crowd that was starting to gather nearby.  "Um... this spot's taken," he said apologetically to a very large man with a wide-eyed little girl standing beside him.

"By who?" the man said.

"Um..." Sam said.  He gestured for the man to take the spot, figuring Ginger wouldn't notice if their "area" had taken one very large man's step to the right.

During the half hour until the fireworks would begin, though he would have rather done a jack-knife into a vat of Jell-O, Sam dutifully but diplomatically managed to keep the boundary of the area Ginger had marked off free of others also looking for a prime viewing position. Most were good-natured, or at least understanding of his explanation. A couple gave him narrow looks before moving on.

The shades of twilight had begun to give way to the first fringes of darkness when a confident male voice came over the loud speakers announcing, "Fantasy In the Sky will be starting in just a few minutes."

"And I'm still walking guard duty," Sam muttered, keeping his voice to a low whisper.  But even being 'stuck with the duty' couldn't deny or prevent the growing sense of excitement and anticipation beginning to circulate among the crowd of attendees that, by the leaper's estimation, numbered in the several hundreds.  Every time he turned to walk to the other side of his little square, Sam scanned the crowds, hoping to catch sight of the girls or Skip,  and especially Russ, returning to join him.

The announcement about the fireworks came on again. Sam checked his wristwatch, angling to catch some light on the face of the dial. 8:09 p.m.

"Where is everybody?" he muttered. In the midst of the excited people gathered to enjoy and rejoice with several well-known contemporary Christian music artists, Sam Beckett was beginning to get an uneasy prickling on the back of his neck. It didn't get any better when, six minutes later, the announcer came on to tell them that the fireworks would begin in one minute. But Sam's thoughts weren't on fireworks or funny punishments cooked up by Howie's friends or the soon to begin music of praise and worship. No, his thoughts were consumed by one thing...one solitary thought that began to loop through his head endlessly: Where are you Russ?

It didn't help that at the same moment Al popped in beside Sam, his expression grim, that Sam heard a whisper that he'd hoped had forgotten about him.

***Get ready to fail again, Sam.***

"Sam," Al said urgently. "Where's Russ?"

Sam pushed away the snide whisper still echoing in his mind, forcing himself to focus on his Observer's face.  He had seen this expression too many times to not get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "What's wrong?"

Al was double-checking the information that had sent him hurrying into the Imaging Chamber.  "Where's Russ?" The question finished the sinking feeling for Sam.

"I don't know," he admitted. "After I got 'elected' to stake out this spot for the concert, he went off with Skip to ride the Teacups again."

"When I went back," Al told him, continuing to glance at the information scrolling across the handlink's small screen. "I told Ziggy to monitor Russ' whereabouts as best she could in this mob."  Looking up at his friend's concerned expression, Al told him, "About ten minutes ago, Ziggy said that Russ' movements had become erratic.  For a few minutes before he had been more or less stationary. And then about two minutes ago, she said that she noticed him moving away from that stationary point. I had her correlate both positions in reference to this point and the Contemporary Resort to get an idea of what direction he's heading." He paused to catch a breath, even as Sam demanded, "Where's Russ now, Al?"

Al looked into Sam's eyes, keeping his manner and tone crisp to deflect the bad feeling that was growing inside. "Given the size of the crowds... the people leaving because of the concert as well as those coming *for* the concert..."  He punched in a query to Ziggy, not liking but repeating the response anyway. "Ziggy figures that right now, Russ is about four minutes from reaching the Resort."  He lowered the handlink. "You gotta go after him, Sam!"

It was a quandary that shouldn't have even been entertained by the leaper, yet it was.  He glanced around at the patch of space he'd promised to keep open for the others even as he recalled with sharp clarity what Al had told him had happened to Russ Lovet-Hurston, Jr. in the original history.

"Al, I..."

Al saw it in Sam's eyes and jumped on it with all of the fierceness of his active military days coloring his tone and attitude. "Sam, Russ is going to die... tonight... probably in the next fifteen minutes!  I don't care what you're supposed to be doing here right now, which doesn't look like a whole hell of a lot. This," he waved his hand holding the handlink dismissively at the empty patch of ground, "doesn't mean jack!  When it comes to a person's life, nothing... NOTHING... is more important."

It wasn't often that Sam got the rough side of the Observer's tongue, but right now, it was what he needed.  Concerts would come and go, but if the troubled young man probably already in the elevator going up to their room at the resort, wasn't stopped... if he, Sam Beckett, didn't stop him, for Russ everything would come to a tragically too early end.

Sam squared his shoulders and gave the hologram a firm look. "Go find where Russ is, Al, and get back to me as soon as possible," he told him.  Almost before the words were out of his mouth, the hologram winked out of his sight.  He didn't waste another glance or thought on how the others would be disappointed at losing the 'sweet spot'. They would, he was certain , feel far worse if they lost their friend.

Turning, Sam started into the crowd, almost plowing into Skip coming at him with a bright-eyed grin.  "Dude, you deserting your post? Ginger's gonna...."

"I'm going back to the resort," Sam responded tersely and continued to push past Skip, not bothering to look back when he heard Skip call out, "What's at the room that can't wait 'til after the concert?"  Sam didn't see the expression that came over the jock's face when he heard his friend's voice float back over the crowd saying a single word... a name. "Russ."

Skip Lagerman stood frozen for a moment as he watched Howie shove his way through the crowd on his way back down Main Street toward the exit.  His mind raced.  After they'd taken a spin on the Teacups, Russ had headed off to Tomorrowland in search of a Mickey Bar, he'd said.  Skip had let him go, meandering in that direction himself to watch the Tomorrowland Indy Speedway drivers maneuvering the cars around the track.  It was after only about thirty seconds of people watching that Skip had decided to join Russ for that Mickey bar.  He'd headed into Tomorrowland, coming upon a cart selling the ubiquitous treat as soon as he rounded the first corner.  Russ had been nowhere in sight.

That had been his first feeling that something odd was going on.  As he exited Tomorrowland and headed back towards the hub and the castle forecourt area, where Howie was standing guard duty, Skip had gotten his second odd moment of the evening.  Howie was gesturing and talking intensely to the man standing next to him... or so Skip had thought at first.  As he drew closer, he realized that the large man, as well as several other people in the crowd were giving Howie a strange look and edging slightly away, for Howie was actually conversing with... himself, or worse... no one.

Skip had thought for a fleeting moment that it was another one of Howie's gags, but the serious expression on his friend's face told him otherwise.  He drew near to him, just as Howie started to take off.  Hoping to slow him down, worried about his friend, Skip adopted a disarming smile and teased him about deserting his post.  Howie wasn't to be deterred, and urgently began shoving his way out of the crowd as he shortly said he was going back to the room.  When Skip tried to stop him, wanting to get more insight into his friend's strange behavior, Howie didn't even stop, and Skip's insides turned to cold Jell-O when Howie called back that his reason for going was Russ.

"I don't believe it," shouted Ginger as she came back to the spot.  "I should've known better than to trust Howie Lockwood with anything responsible."

"No," Skip said.  "Something's wrong."  He barely noticed Karen and Juanita approaching.

"I'll say there is," Ginger complained.  "You can't even see where our spot was anymore."

"No," Skip said again.  "Ginger, listen... something's wrong.  I..."  He broke off and looked down Main Street, where Howie had run off.  Juanita and Karen followed his gaze.

"Skip's right," Juanita said in a quiet voice.  "Howie looked terrified when he headed off... he ran right past me on Main Street."

"It's something to do with Russ," Skip said.  He set his jaw.  "I'm going back to the resort.  You girls stay here."

"And pray," Karen said.  She nodded for Skip to go and took hold of the other two girls' hands.  They edged to the brick planter surrounding the statue of Walt and Mickey at the hub directly before the castle, and knelt in an out of the way spot, never loosing their grip as they started praying for their friends.

Skip nodded emphatically, and took off at a swift jog the way Howie had gone.

PART TWO

Magic Kingdom

Walt Disney World

Friday, September 12, 1997

7:53 PM

Sam elbowed his way through Main Street, getting caught in a bottleneck as he neared the turnstiles.  He swore under his breath and elbowed his way to an exit as quickly as he could.  He nudged past a teenage boy and darted in front of him to dash through the turnstile, ignoring the admonition from the Cast Member standing duty.  Once outside he started to turn to the right to go back to the monorail, but Al popping in next to him made him stop.

"Sam, no!  That'll take too long," Al said, waving his arms.  "Go the other way... there's a walkway to the Contemporary over there."

"Where's Russ?" Sam panted as he turned to head that way.

"Sitting in a chair on the balcony," Al said.  "I don't like the look on his face, Sam.  I don't like it at all."

***Next name to be added to Samuel Beckett's list of failures... Russell Lovet-Hurston, Jr.***

"No!" Sam snapped back at the mocking voice. "Not this time!"

The Observer, given how this leap had started and that had happened to this point, was only caught off-guard for an instant. He wasn't sure 'whom' Sam was arguing with, but at the moment, there wasn't a moment to ask or debate him about it. He marched smartly beside his friend, keeping pace with him, but after a moment he barked, "Sam, run!  Walkway is just a description, not a rule for usage!  Run!"

Sam did, dodging strollers and tired children, haggard parents and teenagers complaining about having had to leave the Magic Kingdom "so early."  He didn't even stop to mutter apologies, just took off at a run, pausing only to check traffic before dashing across the street to the parking lot of the Contemporary Resort.  He dashed past the security check-in booth, not even caring if he looked like he was up to no good for running to the building.

Sam was out of breath when he reached the building, and as he crossed in front of the A-frame construct, he looked up, wondering if he could see Russ.  "Is he still sitting in the chair, Al?"

Al pressed a button on the handlink, vanishing from Sam's side to reappear eleven floors up.  "No!" he shouted down to Sam.  "He's standing up and leaning over the balcony, looking out now!"

Sam ran into the building, his tennis shoes squeaking noisily on the floor as he ran past the front desk, Cast Members looking curiously at him.  He reached the elevator bank, panting furiously, and jabbed viciously at the button, bouncing impatiently in front of the elevator until the doors opened and he rushed inside, jamming the button for the eleventh floor  as soon as he entered.

"Sam... the fireworks are starting," Al said, reappearing beside his friend as the elevator moved slowly upward.

"Al... go to Russ.  Watch him till I get there.  Just... don't let him be alone right now."

"Okay," Al said, a gentle expression on his face.  He pressed a button on the handlink and disappeared.

He knew the elevator ride up to the eleventh floor probably only took, at most thirty seconds or so, but for Sam, panting and blowing in an effort to catch his breath, it seemed more like days passed before he felt the car slow then stop. Another eternity passed before the doors slid open and he charged out, grateful that the hallway was empty as he raced down it, turned then dashed for the room four doors down on the left.

Reaching the door, though every nerve in him was quivering, his mind screaming at him to dash inside and across to the balcony and grab Russ, the leaper forced himself to stand still for a few seconds and take a couple of deep breaths before he put his hand on the doorknob and quietly entered the room.

PART THREE

Disney’s Contemporary Resort

Walt Disney World

Friday, September 12, 1997

8:03 PM

Through the partially open sliding glass door, Sam caught a glimpse of the fireworks soaring higher and higher then bursting into breath-taking splashes and blooms of brilliant color against the night sky.  Moving carefully, picking his way so he didn't run into or fall over anything, he crept closer and closer to the open balcony door.  Holding his breath, almost as if afraid even that soft sound might startle Russ, Sam stepped into the opening and froze at the sight of the troubled, hurting form of Russ Lovet-Hurston, Jr. who had, in the space of a couple of minutes, climbed up on the narrow iron balcony railing, one arm wrapped around an iron support rail that attached to the bottom of the balcony directly above.

Floating in the space directly before Russ, Al caught sight of Sam.  His face was anguished as he said, "Sam, thank God you're here."  The raw quality to his voice gave evidence to the way he'd been shouting.  "I tried talking him out of climbing up there, but I couldn't.  He can't hear me," Al said.  He shook his head and a tear spilled out of his eye.  "Sam... come out here... slowly and easily... but you need to talk to him now... we don't have much time."

Sam's gaze flicked toward his friend, the urgency in his now softer tone, telling him what there was not time to put into words.  Catching the Observer's eyes, he nodded and took a careful step onto the balcony, an exploding firework that burst into a brilliant golden starburst covering the sound of his footsteps as he took two careful steps, each one bringing him closer to Russ. When he was within arm's reach, Sam stopped, his heart aching as another starburst of bright color illuminated the night sky, giving off enough light to illuminate Russ' face and the  tears he saw trickling slowly down his left cheek as he, too, looked out at the display of lights. It was in that moment, too, that something caused Russ to turn his head slightly and he caught sight of Sam in the aura of the friend he had tried so hard to emulate in his walk with God.  Only now, the sight of Howie gazing at him only hurt worse and made him ashamed that his friend had to witness what he had to do.

"Go away... Howie," Russ hiccupped, now looking into those green eyes. "Just… let me… d… do this."

Sam spoke quietly, so as not to startle the young man clinging to the balcony support, barely balanced on the narrow railing. “Russ... what are you doing?”

For Russ, the quiet, non-accusatory tone of Sam’s question was just too much to bear anymore.  From the freshness and excitement and real happiness that had followed his acceptance of Christ as his Lord and Saviour, the previous four months leading up to this moment had caused him to believe that he had failed to follow through in what had seemed in those first moments the answer to all he had yearned and sought to give meaning to his life. It seemed to Russell and Frances Lovet-Hurston’s only child and son that the harder he tried, the further he seemed to be from reaching where Howie and the others were. When Skip wanted to ride the Teacups again, it was like an answer to prayer, providing him with an easy way to lose his friend in the crowds. They were all where they belonged... together and forging ahead, their faith strong and unshakeable.  He, on the other hand, had obviously failed in his attempt to walk the same path of faith as they.  They didn’t need to be burdened with him and his failure, something he was just too weary and empty inside to struggle against anymore.

"Go away... Howie," Russ said again, his voice quivering in spite of his best efforts to sound strong. "Please... I have to do this. It's... it's the only way to get rid of the emptiness."

Another burst of fireworks booming in the sky just at that moment startled Russ, and he instinctively grasped the support to which he was clinging, tighter. He stared at the bright colors that quickly faded then continued to stare at the night sky, unable to bring himself to look at the man he saw as Howie. He didn’t want him to see the failure he really was.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off Russ, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.  *Not again,* he thought, Marilyn Hicks and her overwhelming depression suddenly coming to his mind, *Not another one... not this way...*  At the same time, he heard the deep voice of the taunting whisper, ***Oh yes....you'll fail again...***

Sam didn’t want to think... couldn't help but think it might be right.  *I’m not Howie Lockwood. I’m not a part of this college youth group--I faked my way through their Bible Study last night.  Heck, I don’t even know who Steven Curtis Chapman is.*

But, like it or not, he was here... and for whatever reason, whatever purpose... he had to try to do what Howie and all the others had failed to do the first time around---get through to the troubled young man that was Russ Lovet-Hurston, Jr.

Taking a hesitant step closer, Sam stopped suddenly, catching his breath even as his heart pounded like a trip hammer in his chest when a bursting firework and its concordant explosion made Russ jump, tightening his grip as he almost slipped. For several seconds, the leaper’s eyes were fixed on the young man’s hand gripping the iron support rail, silently willing that hand’s grip to remain strong, before he was able to look at Russ’ face again.

"Russ... this isn't the only way.  It won't stop the emptiness... it will stop EVERYTHING.  You don't really want that, do you?"  Sam prayed, really prayed, for the right words to say.

Russ listened without comment to Sam’s voice, what he was saying... then closed his eyes and bowed his head, shaking it slowly.  "Yes," Russ admitted, his voice a thick yet wearily determined whisper now. "I want it to stop.  I want it all to stop." As he uttered those words, for a moment, in his mind Russ saw yet another looping repeat of everything he’d endured since coming to the Lord.  He saw again... heard again... his mother, more than his father, hammering at him every change she got, telling him in no uncertain terms that, “Russell, what you’ve done is nothing more than join with the hypnotized masses following after a 'feel good' notion. You mark my words, Russell, this new... ’thing’ isn’t going to last any more than every other amusement you’ve tried.” Fresh bitter tears began to burn behind his eyelids then seeped free to trickle down his already wet cheeks as he heard again the jeering tone of his mother’s voice mocking him or worse, condescending to him the many times he had tried to share all that he had found in Jesus.  And then there was his father.  Russell Lovet-Hurston, Sr. hadn’t jeered, choosing rather to simply ignore him.

Silent sobs shook Russ’ shoulders for a minute, perhaps longer, before he drew in a deep, shaking breath and said, "You don't know what it's like to have your family turn against you, Howie," feeling more tears running down his face. "Your folks... your sister... they're there for you whenever you need them."  Lifting his head, Russ turned it, swiping his cheek against his shoulder and sniffled then resumed staring out at the night sky.  "You're not empty inside, Howie. I am. And I'm tired of pretending that my faith is stronger than... all of it." Sighing deeply, wearily, from somewhere Russ summoned the courage to turn his head to look down at the man he saw as Howie Lockwood. "I'm sorry, Howie. I’m sorry I was such a failure."

From his vantage point, ostensibly floating in air in front of the railing, face to face as it were, with Russ Lovet-Hurston, Jr., as he watched the troubled young man, Al knew that despite the way he was telling Sam that he wanted to die, he didn't believe him.  There was despair there, yes; that he recognized. He had been there far too many times himself.  But he also recognized something else in Russ.  If Russ really, truly wanted to die, he'd have jumped the second Sam had stepped onto the balcony.  Deep down, somewhere deep down inside of him, there was a grain… Al didn't know how big, but deep down there was something... if Sam could just figure out how to reach it.

Russ was speaking again, and with his first words about having to fight his family, Al recognized, knew without a doubt that was the angle Sam needed to take.  For whatever reason, Russ had kept his troubles hidden from his friend (*Probably for the same reasons I hide mine from Sam,* Al acknowledged to himself in the next split second).  But now, in this moment of desperation, they were coming forward.

"Sam," Al said quietly as Russ paused to wipe his tear-wet cheek on the shoulder of his shirt, "try to get him to talk about his family."

He remained silent as Sam nodded imperceptibly, and opened his mouth to speak, but Russ was opening up again, confessing an emptiness inside and insisting that he had been pretending to have a strong faith.  As he listened with Sam as Russ apologized to Howie for being a failure, Al recalled the words he had said to Beth earlier, *If Sam fails--or even thinks he's failed...*  Now, witnessing and listening to Russ, the Observer knew better than anyone else that his best friend had suffered so much already... felt so many failures.  Could this possibly be a point of connection for them?

There were so many possibilities for Sam to reach Russ.  But still Al felt that following the avenue about his family would be the way to go.  Again, he urged Sam, "Ask him about his family."

Sam’s eyes had never strayed as he watched Russ as he insisted he did want to die, an icy chill running down his spine. He hadn’t expected that answer... then again, he also hadn’t expected it to be that easy, either.  As Russ talked, Sam heard Al urging him to ask Russ about his family. He opened his mouth to do just that, but Russ continued to talk, confessing that he was empty while he… Sam… or rather Howie, wasn't.  He listened to Russ saying that he was tired of pretending he had a strong faith.  *Oh, Lord, isn't that what I've been doing for the past couple of days?*   Sam gulped, again opening his mouth to speak, but Russ wasn't finished yet.  It was then that the troubled young man looked down at the leaper and apologized for being a failure.  The word froze Sam to his core, and it was only Al's voice again urging him to pry, to get Russ to talk about his family, that broke that momentary freezing, rousing the leaper back to the moment.

"Why, Russ?" he asked.  "Why would you say your family's turned against you?  I don't understand."

For a minute, maybe a little longer Russ gazed at the best friend he’d ever had, searching Howie's features, his eyes. He started to look away but changed his mind. Another firework going off painted the sky with huge splashes of red... green... gold... blue and it was then he glanced back to Sam.

"When was the last time, when you talked to your mother, that she said..." Russ hesitated, hearing his mother’s voice as clearly as if she were standing on the balcony behind him. "That she said, *If you're going to start with that drivel again, then go and talk to a fence post. At least 'it' will be interested. I'm not. Come back when you've got something worthwhile to talk about.*"  As the last words from one of the last times his mother had told him what she thought of his faith passed his lips, Russ met Sam’s gaze again. Softly he shook his head at him. "Howie, I've never heard you say anything like... that about your family."

Sam had to admit that Russ was right. He couldn’t recall—as much a fact due to the Swiss-cheesing effect as it was what he felt deep down inside --any time when his mother hadn’t been, most of the time, one hundred percent behind him in whatever he had wanted to do.  And even if his ventures or attempts didn't turn out or last long, or his mother had disagreed with him, the leaper didn’t need to have crystal clear memories to tell him what he knew.  Namely, that his mother… nor his father or his sister or brother… had never once belittled him in the way that the pain in Russ' voice and eyes were telling him that the young man had endured from the people closest to him, his parents.

"Russ," Sam began then hesitated, licked his lips and started again. "Everyone... every family is different. We all fail..."

***Some more than others, right, Sam?***

The sting caused by the deep taunting whisper caused Sam to hunch his shoulders vaguely against it trying to ignore it.  He couldn’t, didn’t have the time to indulge in his own...

***Failures...***

Al saw the way Sam's shoulders dropped as he pointed out to Russ that everyone fails.  On at least two occasions on this Leap, he had noticed Sam struggling with an internal Voice... or voices, he realized, recalling how vociferously his friend had responded to one of them.  The Observer recognized the minute but telling change in Sam’s posture and as he thought back on his friend’s earlier reactions, Al came to the conclusion that a taunting voice had to be the other that Sam was hearing.  And, given what Sam had recently been through, Al could just imagine what that taunting voice was saying to him.

"Sam.... focus on Russ," Al said in as gentle but as firm a voice as he could manage.  "Don't think about the past, kiddo... think about reaching Russ."

Sam didn't acknowledge the Observer's urging even though he agreed with him.  "What about your Dad?" he began.

Russ' lips pressed into a thin line for a moment before saying, "I told you, he ignores me.  He doesn't care what I do, just so long as it doesn't embarrass us."

"Us?" Sam questioned, using the question itself to edge a step closer toward Russ' precarious perch on the narrow iron balcony rail.

"Us!" Russ responded, a trace of bitterness and mirthless humor in his tone. "You can do just about anything, and they don't blink. But you don't subject the name of Lovet-Hurston to embarrassment or ridicule."  The last word on its own strength summoned back the last time he had tried to talk to his father about how and why he had turned his life around. "The family can deal with just about anything but that."   He spared a look down at his friend then turned his face back toward the open night sky then leaned his head against the upright support rail to which he clung, closed his eyes and let out a quivering sigh.

"And your father thinks your faith is embarrassing?" Sam gently asked.

Russ let out a hollow laugh.  "It's mainstream at least, but what little attention he *did* give me about it..."  He shook his head, blinking furiously.  His tears gave a prismatic effect to the fireworks still going off in perfect counterpoint to the soundtrack of Disney music.  "What's the point, anyway?"  He bowed his head forward, studying the ground below.

The handlink squawked, and Al lifted it, his eyebrows raising at what he read.  Ziggy, who had been monitoring everything as usual, had taken it upon herself to search through the recording and transcripts of Al's late-night conversation with Howie, and what she now pulled forth was a verse.  Speaking only on the Imaging Chamber intercom, so as not to disturb Sam, Ziggy said, "Admiral... perhaps this could be of assistance."

Al just nodded, knowing Ziggy would see it, and he quietly said, "Sam... repeat this verse to Russ."  He read it off slowly.

Sam paused, then said, "Russ... do you remember what Christ said?  If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple." He paused, the focal meaning becoming clear to him.  "It doesn't matter if they don't support you, if they ridicule you.  Christ is what matters."

Russ, however, had picked up on another aspect of the verse.  "Maybe," he said.  He shrugged, still looking at the ground eleven stories below.  "At least I've got one part of it right... I hate my life."

Al swore at Ziggy, and at himself, for not having considered how that portion of the verse might have affected the suicidal boy.  "Sam... don't let him stop talking.  Make him open up."

While listening to the verse Al had told him to repeat to Russ, as with most everything Sam heard, it was instantly memorized. For a moment, it seemed to have touched the young man only for that hope to fade at Russ' bitter self-loathing comment. He heard Al's urging and silently agreed with the curse the hologram had muttered. Still, in spite of that, he got an impression that it was that last comment that he should focus on.

*I hope you know what you're doing,* he thought to Whomever or Whatever had put him and Russ in this fragile and tenuous situation.

"I don't think that the word 'hate' is meant literally," he ventured. "It's more like..." Sam searched his thoughts, his mind racing and sorting at an unbelievable speed until it came upon something. "It's more like you look at your life... everything about it, and compare it to what following Christ offers."

"What are you talking about, Howie?" Russ whispered wearily.

"Look at it this way," Sam seized the small opening Russ' question offered him.  "Look at everything that your life is... has been up to before you found Christ." Seeing the other man nod his head, Sam continued to follow -blindly it seemed to the logical part of his mind- where he was being led.  "Have you had a good life?"

Russ slowly turned his head to look down at the man he perceived as his friend. "Yeah, I suppose so," he said slowly. "But what's that..."

"Your parents loved you... provided for you.  You had family and lots of friends. You went to good schools..."

"The best money could pay for," Russ said.

Sam nodded. "And it was good, wasn't it?"

"Howie...."