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 ones 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

Project Liberty

Hope Springs , Virginia

May 8, 2006

The abandoned Control Center of Project Liberty was now a shadow of the pristine series of rooms it had once been.  The body of Adam, otherwise known as Nate Adams, was still crumpled against the wall of Omega’s mainframe, burnt beyond all recognition with no visible signs of life present.

Suddenly and without warning, the shattered discolored orb that contained Omega’s—and then Lothos’—program grew the slightest bit brighter, and a voice echoed in the room.  “Hello?”

You have awakened.  How does it feel to exist and yet not exist at the same time?

“What are you talking about?” the voice asked back.  “Where am I?  Why… how come I can’t feel my body?  What’s happened to me?”

You wanted eternal power; Adam… now you have it—and I shall be here beside you for all eternity.  We are now one, you and I.

“No… it’s not possible.  This isn’t what I wanted!”

I know what you wanted, Adam, but you seem to be forgetting one thing… I own you.  And everything I own—I utilize to my advantage.  In time, you will learn to accept this new existence and embrace it, as I have.  Once my program fully integrates your consciousness into Nathaniel’s, we will be one collective unit.  Over the next few days, someone will come, take what is left of us, and ship the components to an island on the British Isles .

Already, Adam’s consciousness began merging with Lothoman’s as he stated more than asked, “Reconstruction of the original project has already begun.”

Yes.  Tala, Siren, Zoë, and Thames , among others, will be recreated in their original images, and a new generation of evil will be born.  They will learn to fear me and to unswervingly devote their very lives to accomplish my goal!  The time of retribution shall be at hand!

As the multiple personalities within the program began laughing, they merged together into one maniacal fit of laughter that reverberated throughout the room.  The future belonged to Lothos!

PART ONE

Dr. Sam Beckett didn't know how long he had been in the protected sanctuary that surrounded him.  However, he recognized the pull of the energy compelling him toward his next destination.  The journey to his next host seemed immediate and he closed his eyes and slightly shook his head feeling immediately nauseous.  Unsure of why his equilibrium was thrown off, Sam swallowed and opened his eyes wondering where he and who he had leaped into.

He felt it coming on and there was no stopping it.  “Achooo!”  Even as the sneeze faded, Sam glanced around himself, hoping to find a box of tissues somewhere close by.  No tissues, but an unexpected cool breeze slithering up the back of the light khaki jacket he was wearing made him shiver, and then he realized he was standing in an open doorway.  Stepping further into the room, he quickly closed the door.  Again, he scanned the room.  “Hello?” he called tentatively, sniffing again.  “Is anybody here?”  When there wasn’t an answer, he decided to take a chance and look around.

He quickly discovered it was a small house; from the front door in the tiny entryway, it was a few steps into the living room on the left and a small dining room directly opposite.  An open doorway led from the dining room into a kitchen.  Further along the hallway at the back of the house were two bedrooms and a bathroom.  The whole tour took five minutes and three of the tissues Sam had grabbed from the box of Kleenex he’d found in the bathroom.

Sneezing and wiping his nose for what seemed the sixth time in the few minutes he’d been here, Sam was ready to concede one obvious and inescapable fact – he didn’t feel good.  Stepping back into the bathroom to dispose of the used tissues, he tossed them into the wastebasket by the sink.  Turning his head, he found himself face to face with the mirror on the medicine cabinet above the sink and looking into the eyes of his host.  A weak half-smile crossed his lips as he told the younger looking reflection, “Do you feel as rotten as I do?”  The only reply he got was yet another sneeze.  As he wiped his nose again, Sam studied the reflection.

He judged that his host, a man of about five feet ten inches in height and blond hair in a close cut was in his thirties.  Peering closer into the mirror, besides the slight bloodshot appearance, the man’s eyes were blue. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam told the reflection.  The learned habit of finding out who he was as soon as possible nudged the leaper and his left hand automatically went to his back pocket.  Pulling out the wallet, he quickly flipped it open and searched for a driver’s license.  Turning the wallet around, he scanned the license.  “Now, who am I this time?”

Even as he began to form the name of his host, Sam found himself in the midst of a coughing fit.  When he was able to calm himself down, he looked back up at the reflection, shook a finger at it castigatingly, and then looked back down at the driver's license.  "Ross Wright."  With tears wetting his eyes slightly, Sam glanced back up at the reflection.  "Mr. Wright, you're very ill.  Get thyself to a bed, some liquid, Tylenol and some rest."

Sam nodded for his host, whose reflection mimicked the leaper's actions.  Grabbing the box of Kleenex instead of leaving them in the bathroom, he carried them into the bedroom and went to sit on the bed.  Another sneeze assaulted him and he sighed heavily.  "Great.  Just great.  I leap in to be..."  Sam stopped in mid-sentence as he looked behind him to see the bed.  Feeling that it was calling to him, he reached down and took off Ross' shoes before he lay back on the bed.  Groaning softly, he closed his eyes and uttered sickly, "Ohh boy."

After a moment of lying absolutely still, Sam shivered and rolled onto his side.  As he did so, he reached behind himself, grabbed at the bedspread, and pulled it over his body.  Settled on his side, he hugged the covering closer and he closed his eyes, a soft sigh ending in combined moment of coughing and sneezing.  The level of his rotten feeling didn’t improve when he heard the sound of the Imaging Chamber door opening.

“Sam?”

Sam tucked his chin closer to his chest, pulled the coverlet over his head, and didn’t say a word.  By the way the sound of the handlink’s soft chirping sounds seemed to get a bit closer; he knew that Al had moved to stand on the other side of the bed to be facing him.

“Sam, what are you doing in bed already?”  Al asked firmly, his gaze steadily on the dark blue bedspread that encased the lump of leaping humanity on the bed.  Glancing around the room, he paused when he reached the window at the head of the bed.  “Judging by the sunshine outside, I’d say it’s gotta be at least noon.  So, come on, buddy boy, up and at ‘em.”

“I’m sick,” Sam mumbled from under the covers.  “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t you want to know what you’re here to do?”  Al wheedled, a bit of a grin crossing his face.

Sam sniffled.  “At this precise moment… no, I don’t.  I just want to be left alone.”

Al pursed his lips as he rocked up on his toes bouncing slightly.  "So, you don't want to know even who you are?"

"I know who I am, Al.  I'm a person who needs their rest because they are sick.  Please, leave me alone."

Al licked his lips before he answered.  "You know, all I have to do is click a button on this handlink and I can be under that comforter with you," he said with a grin knowing that his words would make the leaper flip back the covers.  When it didn't happen, Al was more than surprised.  "Okay, Sam.  Let's see... where is that button?"

As he had expected with the previous statement, the covers that covered the leaper were thrown back in frustration.  Sam grudgingly sat up and just looked at Al with his head cocked slightly to the side and sneezed twice loudly.  "Fine.  Fine," Sam said a nasally then sniffed.  "What is it that you have to tell me?"

In truth, the Observer did feel for his best friend.  From the brief information gleaned so far, Sam's host in the Waiting Room was feeling just as rotten.  Now that he'd convinced Sam to emerge from his cocoon of covers, he gave him what he had.  "Well, you're Ross Wright..."

"I know that, Al," Sam said, a touch of testiness in his tone.  "I also know that I'm five feet ten inches tall, have blond hair and blue eyes, and I live in some place called Bertram , Texas .”  He paused barely a second then added, "Did I miss anything?"

Al pursed his lips thoughtfully a moment, studying Sam's expression.  "Well," he began.  "What isn't on your driver's license is that you also have a seven year old son, Alex, and you work for the phone company as an outside maintenance and repairman."

"Meaning... what?"

A few more buttons were pressed on the handlink to retrieved more information – the scope of it indicating that Ziggy was outdoing herself in gathering all she could glean about the Visitor.  "Meaning that, you're one of those guys who go up in those bucket trucks to fix the lines at the top of the telephone poles."  Glancing at his friend, he read the wide-eyed look instantly.  "Oh no, Sam, not right now.  In fact, according to Ziggy, your...  I mean, according to Ross' work record, his supervisor sent him home today."

Sitting up a bit straighter, Sam asked hesitantly, "Did he fire him?"

Al chuckled.  "Nah.  According to the record, his boss sent him home because Ross had a bad case of the flu."

"Achooo!"

"Bless you," Al responded immediately.  Watching Sam get up from the bed and trudge down the hall to the bathroom again, he added, a bit louder, "Guess he didn't want you… ah… Ross sharing your germs."

Wiping his already tender nose, Sam threw the tissue away, washed his hands, and returned to the bedroom where the Observer was waiting.

Stopping beside Al, Sam fixed him with a hopeful look.  "Any chance I'm here to make sure that Ross gets in bed and takes care of himself till this flu runs its course?"  The notion of two, three, or even four days in bed, even with the flu, was looking pretty good at the moment.

"I doubt that it'll be that simple, Sam.  Ziggy doesn't have any information on the reason why you are here at the moment, but..."

"Then why did you come in and threaten to crawl into bed with me?"  Sam asked with a glare.

"I didn't get much sleep last night.  Beth was all over me and..."

The growl that emerged from Sam as he rolled his eyes was enough to stop the hologram from talking.  Moving to the bed and laying back down, Sam grabbed the earlier discarded comforter and pulled it back over him.  "Don't come back until you have something for me to do.  Until then, I'm sleeping."

"But Sam..."

"Goodbye, Al."  Sam settled his head back on the pillow, coughed, then sniffed twice before he sneezed yet again.  "Maybe," he muttered softly, "just maybe, I'm here to get him well."

Pulling up the Imaging Chamber door, Al glanced at Sam and shook his head as he repeated.  "I think that it'll be more complicated than that, Sam."

Sam waved the one visible hand at the hologram.  "Goodbye Al."

Shaking his head, Al looked down at the handlink and pressed a button in wonder causing the handlink to squeal slightly.  Al’s demeanor suddenly changed.  His attention wavered between Sam and the handlink before he said, “By the way, Sam, today is…”

Sam grunted under the comforter then said, “Tell me later!  Goodbye, Al!”

Al bobbed his head slightly then turned to step into the future.  Even as the door slid shut before him, he whispered almost reverently, “September 10, 2001.”

PART TWO

May 13, 2003

The British Isles

Project Alexander

Two years had languidly stretched by since Sam Beckett destroyed the conduit relays attached to Nathaniel Lothoman’s mummified remains.  Gillis Woods, one of the survivors of the electrical explosion in Lothoman’s complex, stood in the middle of the charred remains that once housed his master, and shook his head with a sigh.  For a moment, he remembered watching his father poring over the plans with Nathaniel Lothoman and even at the age of nine years old, he knew he was watching history unfold before him.  Now thirty-four, his gaze continued around the remains of the main control room, he wondered if anything would remain of Nathaniel Lothoman.  Again, he shook his head negating his own thoughts knowing that Lothoman’s offspring, Tala and Siren, would develop relationships come hell or high water and continue the family tree.  The name of Lothoman would not die with Nathaniel.

Slowly, methodically, the tall, handsome, dark-haired man approached the main control grid that he considered Lothos’ eye.  The grandiose sphere that housed the electrical pulse traveling from Lothoman’s remains to the parallel hybrid super computer, now dark and void of any movement, hung from the ceiling like a looming gargoyle at Notre Dame Cathedral.  Letting his aquamarine eyes glance dartingly over the machinery before him, Gillis knew that this part of the computer had been damaged the most.  Dr. Beckett had some obvious knowledge of Lothoman’s goal or he would not have thoroughly destroyed the console as he had.

Just the thought of the man who had destroyed Project Alexander sent anger coursing through his frame.  He’d spent years training, putting himself though unbelievable nights of hell for Lothos and his goals and within that single day, everything was destroyed by him.  Gillis’ frustration mounted and if he could find the source, he’d do his level best in putting an end to it himself, namely Dr. Samuel Beckett.

Not having a source to vent his anger upon, Gillis did the next best thing that he could do.  He moved from console to console, trying every component to see if it worked.  Every one of the computer’s main drives was wrecked – all the wires fried.  Moving to the central computer that housed the Comparative Historical Data Records that was over to the side of the room, he gave it a solid kick before he leaned down and hit the button to see if it would turn on.

He was more than surprised when the computer’s fan twirled then began to hum to life.  Pulling out the chair, Gillis sat then ran his hand along the tabletop nervously.  He had watched and had been one of the numerous technicians who entered data into the CHD, but he had never fully read anything on the one that made the Alexander Project what it was:  Nathaniel Lothoman.  Nervously licking his lips, he ran a search on the man who had become his master.

The cursor blinked on the screen in rapid succession as it gathered the information on the chosen topic, then displayed it.

Nathaniel Alexander Lothoman 

He was born December 31, 1953 at 11:59:45 in Reston , Virginia .  His parents, Danielle and Alexander Lothoman, claimed that Nathaniel was the last great thing to come out of 1953.

Having a prodigy for a child was difficult for his parents.  They took him to the finest schools they could afford and made sure his days were filled with stimuli that would exponentially increase his learning rate.  It did.  By age five, he could do calculus, and read and speak Russian fluently.  When pushed in the right direction, young Lothoman continued to excel in anything that he set his mind to do.

At the age of twelve, Nathaniel’s father, Alexander died.  All of the Lothoman riches within the family for four generations fell onto his mother who handled it with grace and ease.

By the age of fifteen, Nathaniel graduated high school.  After graduating, Nathaniel went with his mother on a trip across Europe .  He returned two years later to get his doctorate degree in physics at MIT.  He began his term January 1, 1971.

It was in March 1972 that he met a brilliant student, by the name of Sam Beckett, who surpassed his own intelligence.  It was then that Nathaniel latched onto the young man to discuss the theoretical aspects of Time Travel.  Throughout the spring, the two discussed the topic at length, but their position on various aspects would not integrate together.  Sam Beckett’s view was concise and pure logic compared to Nathaniel’s passionate opinions.  It was during a graduation party that Sam told Nathaniel that their goals were too diverse.  The young Beckett did wish Nathaniel the best and gave him the farewell of, “I know whatever you do, you’ll succeed.”  Nathaniel had only laughed, shook the other’s hand, then announced, “No hard feelings if I get there first.”

Graduating in 1973, Nathaniel moved to England to begin to prepare his plans for the future.  It was in early 1974 that his mother died in an airplane accident.  All of the Lothoman fortune transferred to Nathaniel and he immediately put his riches into building an empire with which his father would have been greatly impressed.

By 1977, Nathaniel began building a fifteen level complex, working toward his ultimate goal of Time Travel for world domination.  With Zoë Malvison as his lover and advisor and Jacob Woods as his contractor, Nathaniel pored over the plans and made sure that every level was exactly what he wanted.  By the time that the complex was built and completely staffed Nathaniel Lothoman was more than pleased. 

On January 1, 1979, Nathaniel Lothoman and Zoë Malvison were blessed with twin daughters.  Although the pregnancy was unwanted, Dr. Malvison did the best that she could with their daughters.  Even with the strict rules put in place, Zoë constantly got irritated with the girls and frequently left their side.  Being a dutiful father, Nathaniel would move into the never-ending mother vs. daughters’ fights and would placate all involved.

After years of taking care of his family, Nathaniel finally met his lover’s father, Phillip Braden, who sold him the information about the time travel machine in 1988.  Lothoman felt that the world had just been handed to him on a silver platter.  He quickly left with his new treasure and began to integrate the technology into Project Alexander.  When Lothoman learned that Dr. Malvison’s father had sold the information to two other facilities, he ordered his love, Zoë Malvison, to kill her father.  Following his directives for fear of reprisal and out of frustration for her father, Dr. Malvison murdered Phillip Braden and took the money he had made from it and put it back into Project Alexander.

By the time that March 1990 rolled around, Nathaniel Lothoman decided that his daughters, Siren and Tala, were too much like their parents.  Knowing that they would do fine on their own, he booted them out of the complex to be on their own.  Sending them to the colleges of their choosing, he let them spread their wings with the hopes that they wouldn’t come back home.

The integration of the time machine that he had bought from his late almost father-in-law slowly began to filter into his complex.  His own intense additions to it only enhanced the machinery and he was expecting within years to be able to attain his goal: to begin changing history to his own liking and for his own purposes.

As Nathaniel Lothoman began to initiate integrating his body with nanites in the fall of 1993, Nathaniel found out that he had impregnated Zoë Malvison once again.  It was during one such intense nanite therapy session, that he heard/saw through the monitors that his second set of twin daughters was born.  Hearing through the speakers that his lover didn’t want to have anything to do with their daughters, Nathaniel Lothoman decided to split up his new offspring.  He gave one daughter to his trusted Torture Master, Xavier.  The other, he decided to let her be raised by the orphanage that was in the complex.  As with everything else that was Lothoman, he wanted to experiment with his children as well.  He wanted to ascertain if having his daughters raised in different settings would make them fare differently in the world.

Having rid him and his lover of the annoyance of day to day care for their children, Nathaniel went out into England and within his wanderings, came across Alia Novack, a young woman who was willing to learn something new.  It was August 25, 1996, when Nathaniel Lothoman found out that his complex was fully capable of integration.  Deciding to jump into the mix, Nathaniel incorporated himself into his computer and became Lothos.

Gillis nodded at what he had read as he recalled 1977 when his father began working with Nathaniel on the complex.  His memory came back vividly as he remembered the past couple of years under Lothos’ rule.  Knowing that the Comparative Historical Database held basic written timelines, Gillis pulled up yet another search on any contact with the do-gooders, Sam Beckett and Albert Calavicci.  The computer hummed then began pouring out the compressed data saved to Project Alexander from the moment that the Time Accelerator / Time Displacer Unit became initiated and utilized.

In his first two years as a component of his own complex, Lothos ordered Alia, after being extensively trained, to step into the accelerator with a simple directive:  To find and kill Sam Beckett.

Alia found him several times. 

She found him in the form of Jimmy LaMotta, a mentally retarded man who needed to be mainstreamed into society.  Even without too much prompting, Alia had Sam Beckett within her grasp but failed.  Lothos pulled her back to the complex and thoroughly punished her for failing then sent her promptly back out again to find and kill the good doctor or his faithful observer. 

Alia found them when she leaped into Chief Petty Officer Shannon MacLean at Star Bright Project in 1984.  In the guise of a pregnant woman, Alia attempted to frame Albert Calavicci for impregnating her, with the goal of having Calavicci dishonorably discharged from the U. S. Navy and removed from the Star Bright Project.  To prevent paternity tests, Alia was to further frame Calavicci for terminating the pregnancy by throwing herself down a flight of stairs at the precise moment MacLean was returned to the timeline.  However, the medical team performing the late term abortion punctured MacLean’s uterus, requiring the woman to be returned to the timeline before she died.  The mission was a complete failure.

Another time, Alia met up with the good Sam Beckett.  She had leaped into Dawn Taylor, a college student, who was to put a stop to the goody-two-shoes hi-jinks on the campus.  It was then that Dr. Beckett tricked Alia into thinking that she needed to escape from Lothos’ grasp.  Lothos lost track of Alia when she leaped with Beckett, but Lothos found her at a women’s prison where she was accused of murdering another inmate.  It was then that Lothos lost Alia because of Beckett’s influence.

The next encounter Zoë had with Project Quantum Leap was when she leaped into Sam Beckett after he used the retrieval chip to leap back to the present.  Zoë’s new partner, Adam, was sent into Calavicci’s aura to sabotage Ziggy and destroy Project Quantum Leap from within, but Sam’s sudden return forced Lothos to alter his plans.  Zoë then went as a backup to keep everyone at the project off-balance until Adam could complete his mission.  Adam’s betrayal to Lothos bumped Dr. Malvison back to her own time, with Sam still held captive.  As she attempted to kill Sam Beckett finally, Albert Calavicci immobilized her and escaped with the do-gooder back to the project.

Due to Albert Calavicci’s interference, Zoë and Lothos vowed to seek revenge on the Calavicci family.  She traveled back several years into Calavicci’s past and leaped into a woman named Francine Raoul.  With the help of an accomplice by the name of Kim Harper who was Sam Beckett’s doppelganger, Zoë orchestrated the kidnapping of Calavicci’s youngest daughter, Christa, and her friend Leslie Brackenhein.  Sam leaped into Zoë’s accomplice and saved both young women, while Zoë was shot in the back by the Albert Calavicci of that time.  The incident paralyzed her from the waist down.

No longer able to physically leap, Zoë became Thames ’ observer when he replaced her as leaper.  Her once perfect body now scarred and confined to a wheelchair, Zoë required a respirator to breathe properly.  When Alia was finally tracked down, Zoë made it her mission, as did Lothos, to see her former partner die if it was the last thing she ever did.  The do-gooder once again thwarted the plans and Thames was killed in the process.

Noticing that was where the information on the database ended, Gillis pulled out the keyboard a bit toward him, placed his hands on the slightly worn, warped keys and began typing.

It was only months after that incident, when the unthinkable happened.  Disguised as Anthony Gabriel, Sam Beckett leaped into Project Alexander and tore the conduit relays from Lothoman’s body.  He created a chaotic turmoil, which resulted in a massive breakdown and an electrical surge through all components – save one – the Comparative Historical Data Drive .  Dr. Zoë Malvison did not survive the cataclysm.  From where I was trapped, I watched as Dr. Malvison made a last effort to kill Sam Beckett, but failed.  Resigned to her fate, she electrocuted herself and committed suicide rather than allow her arch nemesis to free her. 

When Sam Beckett leaped out of Gabriel, he came to his senses and immediately helped me to leave the building.  Trapped underneath one of the storage boxes that had fallen from one of the surges, both of my legs were badly damaged.  Thanks to Gabriel, I was taken off the island to a hospital where I was rehabilitated.  Now back at the complex, I am afraid that there is nothing to do.  I do not have the funds, the knowledge, or the ability needed to rebuild what Dr. Samuel Beckett destroyed.

Before Gillis could type even another word into the computer, the monitor went to a black screen and he quickly took his hands away from the keyboard.  He watched as the cursor blinked white against the black for several minutes before red words slowly began to type in from some unknown source. 

Some things can be destroyed, but I’m not one of them.

PART THREE

September 10, 2001

Bertram , Texas

1:30 PM

"I thought he'd never leave," Sam muttered under his breath as the sound of the Imaging Chamber door faded.  His only concession to whatever it was he was there to do, was to lift his head from the pillow a bit and listen to the silence.  Satisfied that there was nothing he had to do at this moment, Sam snuggled his cheek against the pillow again, wriggled a bit and sighed carefully.  Within a moment or so, Sam had drifted to sleep, secure within his comforter cocoon.

The uninterrupted sleep lasted until the annoying sound of a telephone ringing jarred the leaper awake.  He didn't move immediately to answer it, but yet again, in spite of how he felt, leaping instincts prodded him and he got out of bed.  It took him a minute to get to the phone in the kitchen.  Pausing to cough, he took a deep breath and blew it out gently as he put the receiver to his ear.  "Hello?  Yeah...yes, this is Ross Wright," Sam croaked as clearly as he could.

“Mr. Wright, this is Mrs. Thompson.  I apologize for disturbing your day, but I wanted to talk with you about Alex.”

Sam frowned then immediately remembered what Al said about Ross having a seven year old child.  “Yes, Mrs. Thompson.  What can I…”  Sam paused in the knick of time to turn his head and sneeze.  “Excuse me.”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.  What about Alex?” Sam asked as he rubbed softly at his nose.

“Alex and I have been working hard on his multiplication skills.  We are having a test tomorrow in class over it and it would be very beneficial if you helped Alex study for his test.  It’s so important that he gets these skills now.  If he doesn’t, it will make the rest of his years in school difficult.  The more he can get now, the easier it will be in the long run.”

Sam nodded at her words.  “I totally agree with you, Mrs. Thompson.  I will have Alex study tonight for his multiplication test.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Wright, are you feeling all right?  You don’t sound like yourself.”

Sam wasn’t sure exactly how to take that comment.  He had no idea or data as of how Ross Wright viewed education.  Sam absently wiped at his nose again as he answered with the only thing that he could say.  “You could say that, Mrs. Thompson.  I… I’m normally not home during the day.  I’m sick with the flu and I… I was napping when you called.  So, I apologize if I don’t sound like myself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Wright,” she said sympathetically.  “I do hope that you feel better soon.  I’ll let you get back to taking it easy.  Thank you for your assistance with Alex.”

Sam coughed slightly, sniffled then asked, “You aren’t having a problem with Alex, are you, Mrs. Thompson?”

“Not a problem at all.  He’s a wonderful student.  He tries hard and he’s always trying to help in the classroom.  I honestly wish that I had more students like Alex.”

Sam began to smile, but his face contorted slightly before he took in a quick breath of air then sneezed once again. 

“Bless you, Mr. Wright.”

“Ah… thank you, Mrs. Thompson,” Sam said as he sniffed again, now feeling that his nose was turning into a spigot.  “You have a wonderful day, ma’am, and thank you for calling about that test.”

“Get better, Mr. Wright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.”  He heard her say goodbye, but another sneeze attacked his system.  Before he could say a salutation himself, he heard the dial tone in his ear.  Sighing and reaching for a napkin from the kitchen table, he blew his nose wondering if he needed another box of Kleenex.  Heading back to the bedroom, he decided that he did need another nap.  Crawling back into bed, he covered up and moaned as he closed his eyes.  Thankfully and mercifully, sleep slowly crawled over him and let the leaper relax peacefully.

When Sam next woke up it wasn't because of a noise or Al returning; this time it was because he was feeling too warm. Yet even that didn't stir him from his snug cocoon too quickly.  He lay still, just listening to the silence and even tried closing his eyes in hopes of luring sleep back.  It didn't work, so after five minutes he sighed and threw back the comforter.  In spite of still being fully dressed, a shiver ran over him.

"Tea," he said, "With honey and lemon."  Getting up, he shuffled to the kitchen, pausing in the hall to glance at the thermostat affixed to one wall.  Peering at it, he wasn't surprised to see it registering a comfortable seventy-eight degrees.  He didn't adjust it, and continued into the kitchen.

Poking about in one of the above-counter cupboards, Sam found a small box of tea bags then put some water on the stove to heat.  While he waited, he familiarized himself with the contents of the refrigerator. After all, sick or not, he would have to prepare some sort of meal for his host's son when the boy got home from school.

A few minutes later, Sam was sitting at the kitchen table and holding the mug of hot tea with both hands, enjoying the warmth on his hands as much as his throat appreciated the soothing brew flavored with some honey.  He was taking yet another sip when he heard what sounded like a key in the front door, and got up to go investigate.  He got to the entry way just as a sturdy looking young boy with his father's blonde hair and blue eyes closed the door.  The boy turned and, seeing Sam in the aura of his father, greeted him as he shrugged off a dark blue back pack.

"Hey, Dad," Alex said as he moved past Sam and into the living room. Dropping the back pack on the overstuffed couch covered in a rather boring neutral plaid color, the boy took off his jacket.

"Hi," Sam said with a smile as he followed Alex into the living room.  "Did you have a good day at school?"

The sound of his father's voice drew the child's attention and he went to stand in front of Sam.  He didn't answer the question, instead asking, "Do you feel better, Dad?"

Sam smiled down at the boy.  Lifting his cup of tea slightly, he said, "Now that I've got some tea, I'll be fine."

Alex frowned slightly and wrinkled his nose.  "Tea?  Dad, you don't like tea.  Especially hot tea.  You must feel pretty bad to be drinkin' that girlie stuff.  What happened to drinking coffee?"

Sam looked down at his cup then back to the blue eyes of his... Ross's child.  He opened his mouth to say something, but he was caught too quickly by a sneeze that spilt most of the tea that he had been sipping from.  Hearing the young boys, "Ewww," as well as feeling something wet slowly oozing above his lip, Sam quickly placed the coffee cup down and grabbed a napkin and blew his nose yet again.  He groaned slightly, closed his eyes and lightly touched his nose.  "Coffee is... fine in the morning," he finally answered, "but when one needs something to sooth a sore throat, tea and honey works wonders."

"Honey?" the young man asked with a bigger snarl as he approached his father who had sat back down in the chair after cleaning up the spilled tea.  He placed his hand on his forehead and felt the low-grade fever that his father had.  "I knew it.  You are definitely sick.  Let me get you some Tylenol and then while you go back to bed, I'll go ahead and get my chores done."

"Who's taking care of whom?" Sam teased softly, even though the boy's hand felt wonderfully cool on his forehead.

Alex paused a moment as he started out of the living room, turning to look at Sam. "Like you always say, Dad, we take care of each other."  He continued out of the room but by the time he was getting the bottle of Tylenol out of the bathroom medicine chest, he was surprised to find his father standing in the doorway behind him.

"Thanks, son," Sam said gently as he took the two tablets Alex shook into his palm. 

"I'll get you some water," Alex said, but stopped when he saw Sam pop the pills in his mouth and swallow them with some of the tea.  "Okay, you go to bed and I'll...."

It was clear to Sam, by the boy's actions that father and son were close, but there was a niggling in the back of his mind about it at the same time.  "I'll be fine, Alex," he said with firm kindness.  "How about we have some supper before you do your chores?"  Stepping back out of the bathroom, he nodded with his head for the boy to come with him.  Only when Alex had complied and was heading up the hall toward the kitchen did Sam fall in behind him.

"Hey, you never answered me earlier.  How was school today?" Sam asked casually as they entered the kitchen.

"School was okay, Dad.  Just the same ole thing.  What are we going to have for dinner tonight, anyway?  What sounds good to you?"

Sam frowned.  He knew that he needed to eat something so that he could get better, but he didn't find himself craving a steak and potato.  He hummed to himself and opened the pantry door to look inside at what they had on hand.  "Actually, the only thing that really looks even temping to me is some... uhm..." he moved a few of the cans around and actually found something that he would normally have when he was sick.  "Tomato soup actually sounds pretty good."

Alex shivered visibly.  "You go ahead, Dad.  Have all of it that you want.  Yuck.  Would you mind if I just had a grill cheese sandwich? I know that..."  Alex stopped in mid sentence and slowly looked down toward the counter.

The grin that came up on Sam's face slowly vanished when he looked back over at Alex.  "Alex?  What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dad.  It's nothing."

Sam tilted his head to the side and turned to lean in the doorway of the pantry.  "Alex, don't pull that.  What's wrong?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his father's gaze, and then finally answered truthfully.  "Mom would make that for us when we were sick.  A grilled cheese sandwich and tomato or chicken noodle soup.  We... haven't had that since she died."

Sam straightened up, went to the young man and pulled him into his embrace.  "Then, this must be Mom's way of being with us even when she's not here."  Tilting Alex's face up to him, he said, "Tell you what, I'll make the sandwich, you heat up the tomato soup and then we'll switch out.  How's that for teamwork?"

Alex smiled back somewhat sadly and nodded his head.  "Okay, Dad."