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.

PROLOGUE

He was exhausted.  Mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.  Admiral Albert Calavicci had felt this way several times within his lifetime, but none quite so gripping, at least he thought, until now.  The leaps were, he was sure, doing the same to Sam, but even Sam got brief periods of rest.  Between the concern of Sam’s mission on his leap, the prodding patience he had to have with not only Ziggy but also the leapee, working with the staff to make a cohesive team, sorting through all the paperwork that kept piling up on his desk and dealing with the committee to make sure P. Q. L. was still up and running within the limits that they set, Al didn’t feel that he ever got that brief period to rest.  In fact, he was up to his eyeballs in so much baggage, that he was ready to drop it at the entrance of his quarters.  Even at two in the afternoon, he found himself zoning in on one target – his bed. He had admittedly been burning the candle at both ends and his expression only proved it.

Walking into his quarters, Al smiled lightly as Beth came out of the bedroom with a surprised look on her face.  “You’re home early,” she said before her face took on a hint of concern. “Are you feeling well, Al?”  She immediately went to him and placed her hand on his brow to find out the answer to the question she hadn’t asked.

Patiently, Al let his wife continue with her “duties” as physician/mom before he spoke.  “I’m tired.  I came in early so I could get some shut eye.”

Beth grinned at her husband as she took his hand and led him back toward their bedroom.  Letting go of his hand, Beth began, “Come on, flyboy, get out of those clothes and get comfy in that bed.” Giving her husband a knowing smile, she turned and went into the bathroom.

Al was so tired; he didn’t even bother with an innuendo for his wife.  He complied with her directions, and dressed in only his boxers, he crawled into bed, let out a sigh and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Beth reentered their bedroom and smiled adoringly at her husband as he lightly snored.  Moving to him, Beth leaned down and kissed his cheek.  “Sleep well, Al. I love you.”

It hadn’t been more than thirty minutes when there was a shout from within the Calavicci’s quarters.  Beth rushed into her bedroom to look at her husband sitting up in bed, his hands at his face as he tried to scrub the dream away from his memory.

“Al?” a concerned Beth asked when she finally got to his side.

“It’s that same damn dream, Beth,” Al simply replied as he brought his hands down to look at them in his lap.  “I can’t seem to get that image out of my brain.”

Beth sat down on the bed near her husband’s knees and placed her hand on his.  “You know that Sam would never commit suicide, Al.”

“I know, Beth,” Al said as he yanked his hand away from her a bit aggravated at himself.  He brought his hands to either side of his temples and massaged lightly.  “I know—I know that Sam Beckett would never even think of suicide.  The physical act of hurting oneself—it’s not Sam’s style.  I know without a doubt that he’d never do that and yet…”

“You saw him do it during that leap,” Beth completed the thought for him.

“Yeah.”  Al let out a small sigh.

“Al, Marilyn Hicks was very ill.  She was severely depressed.  She felt that she had killed her own boyfriend.  She…”

“You can give me every reason you can, Beth, for Marilyn Hicks to do what she did, but it doesn’t excuse it.  It’s still a…”

“A sin?”

Al didn’t answer his wife, but he did scramble out of the bed.  He didn’t want to get into a theological discussion with her.  He just wanted to get the image out of his head so he could sleep at night without thinking of Sam cutting his throat. 

The act itself of Sam doing such a thing was disturbing him, but even more so was Marissa Johnson giving the blade to Marilyn Hicks and watching maliciously as she committed the deed.

Without stopping to don his robe, Al walked into the living room and looked around the room for a brief moment before he turned and headed toward the bathroom.

“Al, you could talk with…”

“Verbena?  No,” Al shook his head at his wife not wanting to discuss anything with her.  At the moment, he just wanted the image of Sam cutting his throat out of his minds-eye.  Al washed his face with cold water, deciding he was going to stay awake.

Beth stood in the doorway of their bathroom as she watched him for several minutes.  “What are you doing, Al?”

“I’m getting up,” Al replied before he sprayed a sizeable amount of shaving cream in his palm, rubbed his hands and began to apply the cream to his face.

Patiently, Beth looked at her watch.  “You’ve only slept…”

“I know, Beth.”

“This dream is starting to become obsessive.  You’re letting it take control over you.  This has got to stop, Al.”

“Beth—drop it,” Al replied as he looked at his wife for a brief moment, his eyes’ telling her that he was done discussing the issue.

Beth met her husband’s gaze and pressed her lips together, then let out a sigh.  As Al began to shave, Beth left her post at the door and went into the living room where she plopped down on the sofa.  Folding her arms over her chest, she looked up at the ceiling.  “Ziggy?”

“Yes, Ms. Calavicci?” came the soft purr from the parallel-hybrid computer.

“How many hours has Al slept in the last week?”

Ziggy responded without hesitation.  “Twenty-eight hours.”

Beth closed her eyes.  Her husband wasn’t getting the sleep his body demanded to have and he was going to crash hard when he finally came down from the so-called-self-induced high.

She hadn’t kept track of how many times Al had mentioned the dream he was having, but she knew that ever since the leap where Marilyn Hicks succeeded in killing herself, Al had repeatedly had that dream at least once or twice a week—when he slept at all.  She was more than worried about her husband and now, every time they’d start to talk about it, he’d snap at her.

Sitting back on the corner of the couch, Beth brought her legs up and hugged them to her.  She knew there wasn’t any use in arguing with her husband or trying to get him to talk with Verbena.  Al would hold onto whatever was bugging him and deal with it in his own way.

She looked up at him as he walked into the room now fully dressed. She wavered on saying something to make him lie back down, but just by the set of his jaw, Beth knew that she didn’t need to push it.

“I’ll be back later,” Al remarked as he entered the room.  Moving to her, Al knew that she wanted him to go lay back down, but he knew himself too well.  He’d pick up the dream and re-live that moment over again.  Seeing his best friend cut his throat over and over again was not something that Al wanted.  Leaning down, he placed a kiss on his beloved’s lips, straightened, gave her a small smile and left.

Beth smiled back at her husband then leaned her head in her hand and wondered how he was going to deal with the situation his mind wasn’t letting him let go of.

PART ONE

Project Quantum Leap

Stallions Gate, New Mexico

Wednesday, November 1, 2006

Admiral Albert Calavicci dressed in a rather conservative dark blue suit with a multicolored shirt underneath headed toward his office.  He wanted to be close by when Ziggy sounded the alarm that Sam had leaped.  It had been only two hours since Sam had leaped, but usually about the time that Al claimed that he needed sleep was about the time Sam would leap into a new situation, starting the whole ball of wax all over again.

Seeing the two guards Daniel Fulton had placed on the office level, Al couldn’t help but slightly grin as he started into his office.  Daniel had upped his security team ever since Sam had met Professor Albright.  Daniel had also wanted to make sure that things stayed on the up and up.  It didn’t bother Al.  He was used to the teamwork at the project and was proud of the over-achieving man who had recently had a little baby girl.

Al shook his head slightly as he closed the door behind him.  Samantha was still on maternity leave and would be so for a while.  Just the thought of Isabella made Al smile.  She reminded him of his own daughters and remembered how proud he was when he held them in his arms.

Moving to his desk, Al yawned as he sat down.  Blinking to ward off the sleep that was trying to overtake him, Al leaned forward and pushed the ‘on’ button.  As he heard his computer boot up, Al waited somewhat patiently as he strummed his fingers on the desk.  When the computer asked for his password, Al typed it in, and then waited for the computer again to load his settings.

“Ziggy?”

“Yes, Admiral Calavicci?” the parallel hybrid computer answered silkily.

Something that Beth had said seemed to filter through his sleep-deprived brain and he rubbed at his face lightly with his right hand.  “Pull up everything you have on Marilyn Hicks and on obsessive disorders.  Display it on my laptop, please.”

“One moment, Admiral.”

Even as the information came onto his computer screen, Al wasn’t sure exactly why he had asked Ziggy to pull up the information.  Cupping his chin and leaning into his hands, Al looked at the screen as he wondered what was going on with him.  It bothered him not to be in control—to have a dream fixate as this one was—it didn’t make any sense.  What was it that was driving him to dream about his best friend killing himself?  What was it that he had to solve? Or did he?

Blowing out a breath of air and leaning his head slightly to the left, Al looked at the information that Ziggy had given him.  He shook his head.  He went through several of the data files.  The definitions and symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorders seemed helpful, but Al wasn’t sure how they aided his situation.  Not quite sure what to say or do, Al leaned back in his chair.  Pursing his lips, he wondered, and then acted on his thought.  “Ziggy, do me a favor.  Cross reference every person that dealt with Marilyn Hicks and obsessive compulsive disorders.”

The computer screen seemed to have a mind of its own as Ziggy closed down web browsers and brought others out with listings and percentages listed behind them. 

“Now, eliminate the lower forty-nine percent files, Zig.”  Once the files were gone, Al settled into his seat and began reading as he did his level best to keep himself awake.

Al checked his watched for the tenth time and the antsy feeling crawling up the back of his neck wasn’t to be endured a second longer.  Whirling around to face the Control Panel across the room, he ordered, “Dominic…”

“Beginning sequencing,” Ziggy’s voice purred.  “The Imaging Chamber will be online in forty-two point seven three seconds.”

Al barely swallowed the rest of what he’d been about to yell at the Chief Programmer, but he managed it nonetheless.  While Ziggy counted down the remaining seconds, he rushed over to grab the handlink now being offered to him.  Snatching it from Dom’s hand, Al turned and rushed up the ramp and into the Imaging Chamber, quickly stepping onto the small central pad in the vast chamber.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered urgently.  “I’ve got a bad feeling about Sam.”  Two seconds ticked by.  “COME ON!” he yelled. As if it had been waiting for that cue, the large sound of the sequencer came to life and a slow moving tornado of past time began to swirl around Admiral Calavicci.

“Hang on, Sam,” he whispered into the increasing volume of swirling time and noise.  “I’m coming, buddy.  I’m coming.”

Suddenly, the image swirling around the Admiral stopped and settled around him leaving him in the corner of the hospital room, facing the wall.  “Sam?” he called out as he quickly turned around.  His eyes grew wide in astonishment and his heart skipped a beat as he saw what his best friend was about to do.

“NO!  SAM!  NO!” he screamed as he started toward the bed.  “SAM!  PUT THAT DAMN THING DOWN! NOW!”

Al watched as Sam swallowed as his eyes slowly lowered toward the bed.  He couldn’t help but wince as Sam did the same from the little pressure that he put against his neck.  Then seeing the trickle of blood, Al knew that he had to do something to stop his best friend from doing such a desperate futile act.  Hearing the sound of the door, Al turned to see Marissa Johnson entering the room. 

As the door whispered shut behind her, Al couldn’t believe how Marissa’s compassionate expression faded to be replaced by one of cold revenge as her eyes fixed immediately on the sight of Marilyn—sitting on the bed, the razorblade at her neck, blood already beginning to trickle, slowly then steadily faster and faster down her neck and starting to stain her hospital gown crimson.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” was her only response to the frightened emotionally exhausted and lost girl trying to call out to her.

“WHAT!?” Al exclaimed as he turned quickly to look at her.  “Why you… bitch!” Al screamed then quickly turned back to Sam.  “Sam… listen to me, buddy.  You don’t wanna do this.  You don’t!  Just… dammit, Sam, take your hand away!  We can stop this!  Sam?  Listen to me, Sam!”  Al called out in desperation.  Anger and frustration came to a head for Al rather quickly, but it didn’t matter how much he tried, he couldn’t reach Sam.  “Dammit, he’s not listening to me.”

Al couldn’t help but watch the scene play out before his eyes as Marissa walked slowly to the bed.  She stopped at the foot of the bed and folded her arms across her chest looking calmly at the teen.

Al’s eyes flew back to Sam as he shook his head sadly, the tears falling faster as he said, “I… I’m sorry.”  Al couldn’t believe it as Sam closed his eyes and with one quick motion swiped the blade across his throat. 

“NO!” Al screamed as he rushed to his buddy’s side and tried to grab at Sam’s arm.  If he hadn’t been a hologram, Al knew exactly what he would have done to prevent what was happening to Sam right now.  As his hand passed through Sam’s arm, instant hot tears came to Al’s eyes.  “God… no!  You can’t let this happen!”

He looked to the one person in the room that could take care of his best friend and saw how Marissa just stood there, not moving a muscle for several long precious moments.  Al opened his mouth to say something to Marissa as she moved around to the right side of the bed.  He watched as she used a Kleenex to carefully pick up the razorblade, wrap it and tuck it carefully into her denim jacket.  Al’s mouth opened in utter shock and he immediately despised the young woman before him.

The last words he ever heard Marissa Johnson utter were said so coldly that they echoed in his head.  “At last, you finally did something right,” she said coldly then turned and left the room.

The hand that touched Admiral Albert Calavicci’s shoulder made the retired officer flinch awake.  He lifted his head from the desk and wearily rubbed at his face before looking up to see the confused guards pensively looking down at him.  Sniffing, he swallowed then asked, “Yes?”

“Sorry if we are intruding, sir, but we heard you hollering.  Are you okay, Admiral?”

“Nothing that a good batch of sleep can’t cure, Corporal.  Go back to your posts, guys.  I appreciate the attention, but,” Al slowly stood up, his back tightening as he did so from the odd way he had been sleeping on his desk, “I’m fine.”  Seeing them nodding and turning to leave, Al slowly sank back into his chair.  He yawned, and then shook his head.  “Zig? How long have I slept?”

“Thirty minutes, Admiral Calavicci.”

Al winced.  He needed more than thirty minutes of nightmare filled dreams to get some rest.  Sighing, he picked up the phone.  He didn’t want to do this, but it had to be done.  Hearing the phone ring twice, he waited and let it ring one more time.

“Dr. Lofton, speaking,” she answered with a smile.

“Aurora, it’s Al.  I need…”

Aurora smiled lightly as she heard Al’s raspy voice on the other end of the line. When Beth had called her thirty minutes ago, telling her about Al’s sleeping patterns, she had known that Admiral Calavicci would call.  “Yes?” she calmly asked when he paused in his request.

“Do you have any sleeping meds available?”

“Sure do, Al,” she answered softly.  “Does the leapee need them?” she asked giving him an out if he wanted one.

Al thought for a brief second before he answered her truthfully.  “No.  They’re for… for me.  I can’t sleep.”

Aurora smiled pleased that Al had decided to be truthful with her.  “Come on down when you get a chance.  I’ll give you a few with strict instructions, all right?”

“All right,” Al responded then paused.  “Aurora?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve got to take care of my boss, don’t I?” she stated.  “See you in a bit.”

Al hung up the phone then settled back in his chair for a moment as he looked at the screensaver on his computer flicker for a few minutes.  “All right, Beth, you win.”

After getting up and stretching his sore back, Al meandered out into the hallway and thought for a moment about what he was about to do.  He didn’t like talking about what was bugging him, but he knew that he had to do something.  Chewing nervously at his lower lip, Al sighed then turned toward Verbena’s office.  Only a moment passed before he was standing before her door.  Knocking, he paused and waited for admittance.  Hearing her call, Al entered into the room as the door slid upward.

“Hello, Al.  What brings you here today?” Verbena questioned chipperly as she placed her pen down and looked up at the man standing before her.

Standing before her desk, Al lolled his tongue against his teeth for a moment as he thought about his answer.  Finally, he responded with, “Death.”

Verbena’s first response was to blink as she pointed to one of the chairs that were seated in front of her desk.  She watched as a weary Albert Calavicci sat down and looked at her.  “Go on…” she prompted.

Al swallowed and then said, “Uh… well,” he swallowed again uncomfortably before he answered, “Sam committing suicide in particular.”

Verbena nodded her head understandingly.  “Marilyn Hicks.”  Seeing the shocked expression on Al’s face, Verbena pointed to the file that was before her.  “I am working on her file, now.  I thought that I was finished with it some time ago, but something keeps pulling me back to it.  It’s very peculiar that Marissa Johnson acted the way she did, and I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t missed something in my summary.”

“What do you see as peculiar about Marissa Johnson?”

“Well,” Verbena started, “I can understand how she might feel resentful toward Marilyn…” Verbena began.

The scenario of what Al saw played through his memory once again.  “No, Verbena—it wasn’t resentful feelings.  What she said—what she did was vengeful.  It was hatred.  There wasn’t a hint of forgiveness or regret in her eyes.  It was pure evil.”

“See, Al.  I don’t understand that.  Revenge?  It… I guess it could make sense.”

“Pure vindictiveness,” Al stated plain and simple.

“Al, did… when you got to see Marissa interact with Sam—did she seem—compelled to—I don’t know,” Verbena snapped her fingers finally as she found the word she was looking for, “obsessed with Marilyn’s death?”

“She seemed to be.  She said, ‘Finally, you’re doing something right.’”

Al watched as Verbena swung herself back to her computer.  “I need to look up some stuff, Admiral.  You go get some rest and I’ll report back to you in the AM.  Ok?”

Taking her words into consideration and knowing it was the right thing to do, Al nodded and started toward the door.  As he cast a glance back toward Verbena he said, “You know, if you or Zig could find out the problem that seems to be disturbing my rest—it would sure make my life easier.”

Verbena smiled then replied, “Well, we’ll give it a go.  Zig and I have been known to pull a few miracles ourselves.”

PART TWO

Project Quantum Leap

Stallions Gate, New Mexico

Thursday, November 2, 2006

8:45 AM

It was the first time in weeks that Al had slept through the night undisturbed.  When his head hit the pillow at seven o’clock the previous evening, he hadn’t wiggled an inch on the bed.  His light snore was so calming that Beth even lounged in bed, just lingering long enough to fall back to sleep to wake with a slight ache in her back from being in bed for so long.

Lightly stretching languidly in bed, Beth turned and gently laid her hand on her husband’s arm.  She knew how easily Al could wake and was more than a bit astonished when his eyes didn’t open immediately.  The medication coupled with the much-needed rest was enough to pull him under thoroughly.

Smiling, Beth slightly shook his arm to try to wake him.  “Al?” she called lightly.  “It’s time to wake up, honey.”

Al moaned then turned his head toward her before he opened his eyes and blinked.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Beth told him warmly.

“Mornin’,” Al croaked out groggily, and then cleared this throat.

“Did you sleep well?”  Beth asked as she turned on her side to face her husband.

Al grinned lopsidedly before he reached out and touched her cheek tenderly.  “Better than I have in two weeks,” he murmured as he tried to remember every curve of her face.  “God, you are so beautiful.”

Beth smiled warmly at her husband then shimmied over to him to lay her head on his shoulder as Al’s arm snaked under and around her body to hold her close.  “We should get outta bed,” she said as she cuddled closer to her husband.

“We should?” Al asked with a grin as he held her a little bit closer. 

Even as Al dipped his head to lean down and capture his lovely wife’s lips, a whisper of the parallel-hybrid computer called out to the Admiral.  “Admiral Calavicci?”

Al ignored it and kissed Beth quite thoroughly before he rested his head back at the sound of the computer calling his name for the fourth time.  “Yes, Ziggy?” he finally answered.

“Dr. Beeks requires your presence in her office, Admiral.”

“Now?” Al asked as he looked back at his wife.

“Yes, Admiral Calavicci.  She said that she’s found your miracle.”

It didn’t take Al more than twenty minutes to get out of his bed, shower, dress and present himself at the projects psychiatrist’s office.  Rapping on the door, he waited for the forthcoming ‘enter’, then did just that.  Walking briskly into the office and seeing the weary smile on Verbena’s face told him that she had been hard at work since last night.  Giving her a compassionate concerned gaze, Al queried, “Bena, when did you sleep last?”

Verbena kept her smile as she waved a hand in the air dismissing his question before she pointed to the chair before her.  “I’ve found out some interesting information for you.”

Al settled back in the leatherback chair and leaned slightly against his left elbow as he tilted his head toward her with keen interest.  “Okay, what did you find?”

“When Sam Leaped into Marilyn Hicks, Ziggy ran background checks on her so that you could tell Sam.”  Seeing how Al was nodding, Verbena licked her lips.  “Do you remember what that background was?”

“Yeah,” Al said simply as he straightened up as he vaguely remembered Marilyn Hick’s past.  “She was in a wreck with her boyfriend…”

“Derrick Johnson,” Verbena supplied the young man’s name.

“The car hit a brick barrier or something like that.  She got thrown out of the car and it caught fire.  Derrick was trapped inside.  She couldn’t get him out and he—burned to death.”

“That’s right.  Marilyn Hicks blamed herself for killing her boyfriend.  In the information that Ziggy gave you during that leap, Marilyn Hicks had succeeded in killing herself on…” Verbena looked down at her notes and read, “April 14, 1998—the day that Sam leaped into her.”

Al frowned.  “So, in the grand scheme of things, Sam leaped into her to do what exactly?  She still killed herself, Verbena.”

“True, however, because of Sam leaping into her, she had an extra day to be with the people who loved her.”

“And hated her,” Al responded a bit wryly.

Verbena’s weary smile brightened slightly.  “Which brings me to my next point.”  Seeing Al’s eyes raise in question, she continued.  “During the Leap, we have Ziggy run scans constantly over scenarios in case a situation should arise.  Well, Ziggy only ran scenarios over Marilyn Hicks.  Last night, Ziggy and I dug through paperwork on everyone involved during this leap, especially on Marissa Johnson.”

Verbena noted how Al became pensive and since he hadn’t interrupted her, she continued.  “We knew all of this information on Marilyn and her family, but nothing on the others, so, I asked Ziggy to dip into their personal lives.”

“Bena…” Al began.

Verbena held up her hand to stop the criticism before it began. “I know that I’m not one to snoop into other people’s lives, Al, but I did.  Marissa Johnson’s family was, to put it very mildly, dysfunctional.  No, her parents weren’t abusive in any shape or form, but there is a history there of some,” Verbena waved her hand in the air to try to find the right word and couldn’t, “problems.” Seeing Al’s frown deepen, Verbena licked her lips again.  “Marissa was diagnosed with O. C. D. when she was twelve.”

“O. C. D.?” Al asked concerned.  “What’s that?”

“Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder,” Verbena answered.  “She was treated, given medication so she could overcome a bit of the stress and anxiety she was focusing on in that point in her life.”

“What stress could a twelve year old be going through?” Al asked skeptically.

“At that point in time, Admiral,” Ziggy responded, “Marissa’s parents, Travis and Danessa Johnson, were in marital strife.  The Johnson’s were in the process of divorcing, but when they saw what it was doing to their children, they changed their mind.  The paperwork was never filed.”

Al nodded and chewed on his lower lip deep in thought.  His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth then closed it.

“Go ahead, Al.  Say what’s on your mind,” Verbena insisted warmly.  She was more than pleased that Al was trying to come to the same conclusion that she and Ziggy had come to in the wee morning hours.

Throughout his lifetime in his various careers, Al had to think on his feet.  There were times that his life depended on that ability alone.  Nodding slightly to Verbena’s words, he stood and began his usual four step pace before he spoke.  “So you’re saying this disorder had something to do with how she acted on April 15, 1998?”

“Yes,” Verbena nodded tiredly as she watched him pace back and forth.  Leaning back in her chair, Verbena answered, “It was well after the car wreck when Marissa’s parents found out that their daughter had quit taking her medication.  Thankfully, Marissa’s O. C. D. is not one that’s dangerous—at least not until she became obsessed with her brother’s death.  I’m sure that she felt that Marilyn was to blame and that the guilty had to pay.  Her actions, though severe, were quite logical with what we saw in the Leap.  In her mind, I’m sure she saw the Mosaic saying ‘An eye for an eye’ quite fitting.”

Verbena watched as Al made it back to his chair and then continued.  “In May of 1998, they moved to Albuquerque.  Things didn’t progress well for Marissa and by the end of May she was a resident at the Rehabilitation Hospital of New Mexico.”

“Why was she placed there?”

“It was Marissa’s behavior that keyed her parents that there was a problem.  All Marissa wanted to see, touch, do, wear was—anything that had to do with the color red.”  Verbena couldn’t help but grin at the look that crossed Al’s face at that revelation.  “She painted her room scarlet red.  She wore only dark red clothes. She even began to cut herself so she could see her own blood.  It’s quite possible that the reason for her fixation on the color is because she saw Marilyn slit her throat. Her parents were concerned and placed her in the Rehabilitation Hospital, with the hopes that someone could help their daughter.  Her physician is Dr. Herbert Johnston.  The medication that he gave her is as high as it can be, but she’s still fixated on the color red.”

Verbena stopped for a moment to let the information filter down and settle into the Italian’s thoughts.  She could see that he was processing the facts that had been given to him and was looking for something to utilize. 

For a long moment, Al was silent.  He didn’t know what to say.  His staff was full of amazing people who went out of their way to help others and here was another case of them helping someone—one of their own as well as Marissa Johnson.  Al knew what he needed to do, and he made it a point to do exactly that. Getting up from his chair, he went over to Verbena, pulled her out of her chair, hugged her then told her, “Bena, go to bed.” 

Verbena didn’t have to be told more than once.  She smiled at Al, accepted the hug, returned it, and then kissed his cheek as she straightened up.  “I was researching Marilyn Hicks for one of my own questions to be answered.  It did when you began to have those dreams.  I wanted to find out why Marissa Johnson was so vindictive—and I have my answer.  I hope that this week’s worth of research helped you to…”

“Whoa… whoa, hold up.  What?  A weeks worth of research?” Al asked in amazement.

“When guards come up questioning me about their supervisor’s health, when physicians begin to become concerned about their patient’s sleeping patterns and especially when someone’s wife comes to me and asks if there is anything that I can do—and it’s the same person that they’re all worried about?  Yeah, I’ll stay up past my bedtime and do whatever I can to help one who has helped so many.”  Verbena’s face brightened as she put her hand on his shoulder and she smiled at her boss. “Don’t worry about me, Al.  I’ll get my rest.  Just know that when there is a problem, whether it be with a Leapee or a member of our team, we all pull together to get the job done.”

As he walked with Verbena to the door of her office, Al turned his gaze to her.  Even as he ushered her out, he said, “Thank you, Verbena.  I…”

“Admiral, there is an emergency in the Control Room,” Ziggy’s voice announced hastily, cutting off whatever the Admiral was going to say.

“Did Sam leap?” Al asked as he immediately began to race toward the Control Room with Verbena on his heels.

“No, Admiral,” Ziggy’s voice followed him as he ran down the hallway.

Before Al could ask the next question that had formed in his mind, he was entering the Control Room to see Dr. Aurora Lofton bending over, her arms wrapped around her abdomen, moaning softly and panting.  Recognizing the beginnings of labor, Al raced over to her side where her husband also was talking softly to her.  “Aurora?”

“I’m… sorry to do this…” she panted to her employer, “but… I… ooohhh… Dom,” she whimpered.

Al glanced over at Verbena and then to Dominic, he did the mental math and wondered if Aurora was delivering early.  He wasn’t sure so, he asked, “When’s she due?”

“Anytime,” Dominic whimpered as Aurora clamped down on his hand squeezing as hard as she could.

“Then why are you two still here?” Al asked impatiently before he immediately turned them both around and began helping them down the hallway toward the elevator.

Dominic looked at Al thankfully.  “What if… ow, dammit, Aurora, stop!”

Aurora turned to her husband and succinctly replied, “Then you have the baby!”

Dominic sputtered in response and Al had to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.  He helped the panting and moaning woman and her husband into the elevator, and then pressed the button for the top floor to take them to his car.  “Ziggy, engage the Emergency Holographic Observer program until I get back from taking Aurora and Dom to the hospital.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Ziggy’s silky voice responded.

“Oh, Al, you don’t…” Dominic started, but a pained facial expression passed over his features as Aurora continued to put pressure against his hand.  After a moment, he whispered, “Thank you.”

PART THREE

Northeast Heights Medical Center

Albuquerque, New Mexico

November 2, 2006

10:17 AM

Al helped the couple get into the Emergency Room at Northeast Heights Medical Hospital.  After telling Dominic that he would let him handle it from there, Al chuckled at the expression on the man’s face before he went outside to move his car from underneath the emergency drive.  Even as he pulled out of the drive, he thought about what he had heard earlier in the day from Verbena.  The Rehabilitation Hospital of New Mexico wasn’t that far away from Northeast Heights Medical Center and before he fully thought about what he was doing, Al was driving back down Montgomery Boulevard Northeast and merging with I-25.  Eight minutes later, he was standing outside of his car looking up at the dark red brick of the Rehabilitation Hospital.

Not quite sure of what he was planning on saying to the hospital staff; he got full directions from the staff on where to locate Dr. Herbert Johnston.  Going to the bank of elevators, he waited patiently until one of them appeared.  After letting others leave, he got in, went to the third floor and headed toward his office.  Stepping in, he scanned the room, taking in the few couples that were sitting on the sofas then went to the nurse’s station in the corner of the room.

“Yes sir, may I help you?” the young nurse on the other side of the desk asked with a small smile.

Al smiled back at her.  “Yes.  I’d like to talk with Dr. Johnston for just a moment, please.”

“Do you have an appointment, sir?” the young woman asked.

“No, but it would only take a few moments of his time.”

“I’m sorry sir, but Dr. Johnston is very busy with his patients.  You’d have to make an appointment.”

Al opened his mouth; about to pull rank on the young woman and demand that he see the doctor immediately, but instead he asked, “Is there a time today that I could talk with him?”

The young woman looked down at the appointment book that was sitting before her and she let her finger run down the list of names and times. “I’m sorry, sir.  But, he doesn’t have an appointment open until,” she turned the page several times then looked up and said to him, “next Friday.  Would you like for me to set an appointment?”

Al shook his head dismally.  “No.  Thank you, miss.”  Al turned away from the desk and started back across the room when he was caught completely and totally off guard.

“Al?” 

Albert Calavicci stopped dead in his tracks.  He straightened up and turned his head toward the direction of the feminine voice that had called his name.  Turning he saw a lovely brunette coming to her feet and she was smiling brightly.  He blinked as he looked at her, somehow knowing her face, but not remembering her name.

“Albert Calavicci, I knew it was you the moment you walked in the door.”  The woman couldn’t help but grin.  “What, cat got your tongue or do I need that beaker of green goo from the chemistry department to get your attention again?”

From the mention of the beaker Al immediately recognized her.  “Danessa?”

If it were possible, Danessa’s smile brightened.  She immediately went to him and gave him a brief hug.  Coming out of the embrace, she said, “Oh, Al, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you since MIT!”

Al chuckled.  “It has been some time, hasn’t it?”  He hadn’t seen or heard from Danessa since that one night that they had spent together at MIT cuddling and listening to music after they had done a Chemistry Lab experiment.  He even remembered telling Sam about Danessa when he had Leaped into Tom Stratton.  He looked at her for a long moment remembering that night.

Danessa’s smile diminished some.  “It has.  You’re here to see, Dr. Johnston?  Is everything okay, Al?”

It was in that moment that a tall, blonde headed man came up and wrapped his arm rather possessively around Danessa.  “I certainly hope that my wife isn’t being too friendly with a stranger,” he remarked with a slight smile showing that he wasn’t offended but cautious.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Danessa replied as she looked lovingly up to her husband.

Al didn’t want to cause any marital strife between the two and held out his hand to the man.  “Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci,” he said when the gentleman took his hand in a firm handshake.

“Rear Admiral?” Danessa slightly whistled.  “Very impressive.  Al, this is my husband, Travis Johnson.”

“Johnson, is it?  That’s a drastic change from… Rutkauskas,” Al said as it finally clicked that he was talking to Marissa Johnson’s parents.  He couldn’t believe his luck.  He glanced up at Travis and saw the man look down at his wife rather protectively.  That was when he decided to go ahead and put the other man at ease.  “My last name hasn’t changed, but my life certainly has since we were at MIT.”

“Oh, how so?” Danessa asked with interest.

Al quickly dug into his back pocket and pulled out the pictures of his family.  Holding it out and showing them, he said, “I’m married.  This year is our forty-fifth anniversary.  We have four daughters and I hope more grandchildren on the way.”

Danessa grabbed Al’s wallet and looked at the pictures, cooing as she looked at each of the girls in turn.  “They’re beautiful, Al.” 

Al smiled proudly as he wracked his brain for something to say to keep the conversation going with the Johnson’s.  He didn’t want it to shrivel up and then demand to see their daughter.  “Well, I think so, but I’m biased.”  Licking his lips, he asked, “What about you, Danessa?  Do you have any kids?” 

Danessa lightly bowed her head then looked back up into Al's gaze.  "Three, actually."  Danessa quickly stole a glance at her husband before she went back to her purse and pulled out her wallet.  Opening it, she showed Al a single picture of all three of her kids.  She pointed to each one of them as she named them.  "Derrick, Hale and Marissa."  She paused then pointed back to the tall, handsome blonde that resembled her husband.  "Derrick--passed away in 1998," she said with a soft catch in her voice.

Immediate sympathy pains filled Al as he looked at the woman that he had dated when he was in MIT.  It pained him to know that she was still battling with her child's death even eight years later.  "Oh, Danessa, I'm... I'm so sorry," he said as he took a step toward her.  Looking up at Travis who had once again put his arm around his wife, Al also gave him a sincere, heartfelt, sympathetic look.

Seeing Travis's lips press into a thin line as he looked away, Al wasn't sure exactly what to say or do, but it seemed that Danessa wasn't going to let her depression pull her down.  He remembered her as a strong individual and he was glad that though time passed by, that she hadn't really changed. 

Clearing her throat, Danessa said, "Thank you, Al.  I appreciate your sympathy.  It's a bit of the reason why we are here at Dr. Johnston's."

"Danessa," Travis said as he slightly tightened his hand on her hip trying to get her attention.

Turning to her husband, she said, "Travis, Al Calavicci is a friend of mine."  Turning back to the man before her, she smiled warmly at her classmate.  "I'd trust anything in his hands."

Al blinked at her words, more than a bit surprised.  Sure, they had dated when they were at MIT, but they hadn't consummated any part of a relationship.  They were friends, first and foremost, and now that he thought on it more, Danessa hadn't let it go any farther than that.  He respected her for that.

"Hale is fine.  He's a successful attorney now, always fighting the system.  Marissa, however, isn't so good.  She's having problems with O. C. D."  She watched as Al nodded his head understandingly.  "Is that why your here?  To get information for one of your children?" she asked carefully.

"Oh no," Al answered honestly, knowing that he'd have to fib at some point to his friend.  "I wanted to interview Dr. Johnston about O. C. D."  He hated that he had to lie to her, but he continued, "I have a paper that I must write and it deals with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorders."

"What do you want to know, Al?  I know almost as much as Dr. Johnston."

"Well, it's this study is on specific behaviors found in patients of O. C. D.  I was going to see if I could get permission from Dr. Johnston to view and talk with some of his patients," he said as he looked up into the frowning face of Travis Johnson.  It was quite obvious that he didn’t like the idea.

Turning his attention back to Danessa, he said, "I'll just call back in later to talk with him about the possibility."  Al shrugged as he tried to make it out as nothing too terribly important.  "I'd like to interview patients so that I can have accurate data.  But if I can't, that's okay.  I'm sure I can get the information that I need from books."

"How far are you on your report?" Danessa asked.

"You aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, are you Danessa?" Travis asked a little irritated.

"Travis, it wouldn't hurt," he said as she turned her head toward him. 

"Well, I don't like it.  Not one bit," Travis retorted as he took away his hand from her side to fold his arms over his chest.

“Excuse us a moment, won’t you Al,” Danessa asked before she turned to her husband, hooked her arm through his and moved him several steps away from her former classmate.

Al could tell that they were in an adamant discussion by the way that Danessa was talking with her hands and at how Travis was settling back into a defensive posture.  Keeping his eyes low, he was able to act as if he was studying his daughter’s pictures while he was using his peripheral vision to study the conferring couple. Slowly though, he could see her husband starting to nod at her words.  He had no idea what Danessa was telling him, but he hoped that whatever it was that it was working in his favor. 

When he noticed Danessa and Travis beginning to move back to him, Al shifted his position as he placed his wallet back into his back pocket.  “Danessa,” he began as he glanced back up at her.

“Al, we’ve discussed it, and…”

“I hope that I didn’t cause any strife.  I didn’t mean to…”

“Al,” Danessa said as she held up a hand to stop him.  “Please don’t interrupt me.  You were bad about that at MIT.” 

Al had the decency to lightly blush and glance down at the gentle castigation.  “Sorry, Danessa.”

Danessa reached out and gently put her hand on his arm.  “We’ve talked and as long as Dr. Johnston says that it’s okay, then we don’t have a problem with you talking with Danessa.”

Al looked up at her surprised then up at Travis who still didn’t look pleased with the situation.  “I appreciate it, Danessa.  I really do.  Thank you for even considering it.”

“Danessa and Travis Johnson?” the nurse from the window called out into the waiting room. 

The couple turned to their names being called and Travis moved toward the desk as Danessa turned back to Al.  “We’ll go in have our appointment and when we come out, I’ll let you know if it’s okay with Dr. Johnston.”  Leaning forward Danessa placed a kiss on his cheek then turned and hurried toward the desk after her husband.

Al was surprised at Danessa’s actions, but nodded at her words.  He watched as they left the waiting room and hoped for the best.  Taking a deep breath, Al crossed his fingers as he moved to the back wall of the waiting room and sat down.

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