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.

PREVIOUSLY ON QUANTUM LEAP

Sam leaped into Ross Wright, a telephone technician who has a seven-year-old son who needs help in studying for his multiplication test the next day.  At the same time, on an island near the British Isle, it appears that Lothos is biding his time to be reborn and cause havoc in Time once again.

PART SEVEN

Bertram , Texas

September 10, 2001

7:00 PM

After Al summoned the Imaging Chamber door and returned to the future, Sam puttered around the house, waiting for Alex to finish his shower so they could get started on studying for the boy's multiplication test.  The ten-minute limit Sam had set for Alex's shower elapsed quickly, but it was another five minutes before Alex emerged from the bathroom wearing blue pajamas and carrying his dirty clothes.

"Where are you going?”  Sam asked when Alex walked past his open bedroom door.

"Gotta put these by the washing machine, like you told me the other day," Alex said.  Disappearing through the door into the small laundry room at the back of the house, the boy was in and out almost before Sam could blink.

"That was quick," Sam commented lightly as Alex brushed past him.  "Get your math book and we'll study at the kitchen table," he called after the boy.  He watched Alex duck into his room, then just out of curiosity went to glance into the laundry room. Flipping the light on, he grinned, turned it off, and headed for the kitchen.  Alex had done as told; he'd dropped his dirty clothes on the floor beside the empty laundry basket placed beside the washing machine.

As it turned out, he followed Alex into the kitchen and both sat down at the table.  "Show me in your book where you've been studying this week," he said.  As the boy flipped through the pages, Sam bit his lower lip lightly, trying not to grin as he added, "And before you get in bed, I want you to put your dirty clothes IN the laundry basket."

"But you said..."

Sam just lifted his chin lightly and gave Alex a firm look.  "IN the basket," he repeated. There was no stopping the soft chuckle that escaped him as Alex mumbled, "You just said by the washing machine." 

Alex looked at his father a bit baffled, but instead of arguing with his father and knowing that he would get in trouble for doing so, he just said, "Yes, sir."

Finally flipping to the right page, Alex pointed to the page and frowned.  "I'm okay with most of the multipl... multipl..."

"... ication," Sam finished.

Alex tried the word again.  "Multiplication.  Well, I know most of them already.  I don't understand why we have to go over this stuff.  It's really easy and..."

Sam tilted his head to the side and just looked at the young man trying to push off the basis of everything of quantum physics.  "And you don't think that you'll ever be using this in anything that you do, right?"

Alex gave the book in front of him a small push.  "Are you kidding, Dad?  I don't think that I'll ever use this stuff."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle.  "Alex, mathematics is in everything that we use.  Everything."

"Name five," Alex said off-handedly.

"Your television would not work without mathematics, your computer, food would not taste right if you didn't use the right amount of seasoning, electricity would be impossible since it runs on impulses and how do you think that I get paid so that you can get all the things that you like to have?  Son, everything works from basic math or binary information.  So, please don't even think that you won't ever be using mathematics."

Seeing how easily that the words came out of his father's mouth, Alex frowned.  "Okay, Dad.  So, how are you going to help me study for this?”  Alex asked.

"Well, I think the best way that I learned my multiplication facts when I was your age was by memorization -- just going over it over and over again.”  Seeing the frown again, Sam grinned.  "Here, I'll call out a multiplication fact and then you answer it.  Okay?"

"Okay," Alex said softly then sat back and closed his eyes. 

Sam reached for Alex's math book, pulling it in front of himself.  Glancing down at the examples on the two pages before him, he smiled.  The simple single digit multiplication examples given were, to his eye, child's play.  However, he brushed that notion aside.  This leap wasn't about him; it was about helping Alex.  Glancing at the boy and seeing that he still had his eyes closed; Sam ignored the book and began at the beginning.

"What is one times one?" he asked.

Alex's eyes popped open, staring at his father.  "All the way from the ones?" he asked.  "We already learned that," he protested.

Sam smiled.  "Let's just call it a warm up.  We'll go through them all and when we get to where they start getting harder, that's where we'll concentrate.  Okay?"

Alex just stared at his father.  He was puzzled.  For one thing, he never, ever offered to help him study and...  No, there wasn't another thing to add.  This was totally new for his dad, but secretly, he liked it.  So if it meant doing even the ones and twos and so on, he would.  It felt good to know that his Dad really did care about his schoolwork.

"One," he said finally in response.

Sam nodded and continued methodically, but at a steady pace.  As each number was successfully gotten through, he noted the boy's reaction to the next number set.  It was halfway through the sevens that Alex finally stumbled.

"Just think for a minute," Sam urged gently.  "Seven times five?"

Sam watched as Alex placed his hands on the table and used his fingers.  “Wait a minute; you don’t need to use your fingers.  Not on this one.”

“But… it’s hard,” Alex whined.

“No, it’s not.  You’ve already answered this one.”

“No, I haven’t Dad.”

“Yes, Alex, you have.  Listen.  Tell me what five times seven is.”

“Thirty-five,” Alex snapped back quickly.

“Okay.  So, what’s seven times five?”

“Thirty-two,” Alex faltered slightly in a questioning tone.

“No, son, look here.”  Sam wrote down both problems then pointed to each one in turn.  “Now, you tell me how they are different from the other.”

Alex looked at the problems then a dawning look appeared on his face.  “The numbers are in different places, but it still equals the same number, doesn’t it?”

Sam nodded with a grin.  “So, what’s seven times five?”

“Thirty-five.”

“You got it,” Sam said proudly and gave Alex’s hair a quick shuffle.  “So, let’s go on.”

Again, the two of them fell into another session of question and answer until they reached the multiplication fact for nine times six.  Alex’s face fell as he tried several times unsuccessfully in answering the question and he threw down his hands on the table in frustration. 

“Okay, Alex.  Remember, you’ve done the nines before.  This should be easy for you.  You’ve already been through them with each number.  Think of it the same way with the others,” Sam prompted softly.

“Dad, these are the hardest ones.  I normally use my fingers and count up to the nines.”

Sam thought for a moment then he looked at Alex’s hands lying on the table.  “Okay.  If you want to use your fingers that’s fine, but if you are going to use them, you might as well use them right.”

“What do you mean?”  Alex asked with a quirked brow.

“Did you know you can do multiplication of nines with your hands?”  Sam knew that answer to that question where Alex, looked at him blankly.  “Let me show you something I was shown by a friend of mine a long time ago.”

Alex frowned as Sam reached out and placed Alex’s hand flat on the table.  “Okay, now, Alex pull in your pinky on your left hand and only your pinky.”  Alex did as he was told.  “There ya go.  Now, with your hands in this position, you are telling yourself what nine times one is.  So, what is nine times one?”

Alex frowned.  "Dad, that's nine."

"Right, so look at your fingers.  How many fingers and thumbs do you have showing?"  Sam asked hiding his smile knowing that just this trick was going to make Alex remember these multiplication facts for the rest of his life.

"Nine," Alex answered.

"Exactly."  Sam nodded, then told Alex, "Now, put your pinky back out and pull in your ring finger on your left hand."  Sam watched as Alex fumbled slightly then got his fingering right.  "This position is nine times two.  What is nine times two, Alex?"

"Eighteen," he answered quietly as he turned his head to look at the man who was portraying his father.

"Right.  Look at your hands.  Your pinky is the tens place value and your other fingers are the ones place.  If you look, your fingers are making the number eighteen," Sam answered back as he pointed to what he was talking about.

Alex studied his hands for a moment.  "That's cool, Dad.  This works on all of the nines?"

"Sure do," Sam said as he smiled brightly at Alex.  "Pull in your middle finger and do nine times three and tell me what that answer is."

Alex did as he was told.  "Nine times three is twenty-six."  Sam shook his head causing Alex to look back down at his hands.  "Oh... duh.  Twenty-seven."

"Right."

"What's nine times four?" Sam asked.  "To find out, move your index finger in and it’s..."

"Thirty-six," Alex confirmed as he looked at his hands.

"Great!”  Sam praised the young man beside him.  "So, pull in your thumb."

"Nine times five is forty-five!”  Alex pronounced happily.

"Now, move your right thumb and..."  Sam began but he was immediately interrupted.

"Fifty-four, Dad!  Wow... that's too cool!"  Alex continued pulling in his fingers, proclaiming the fact and answer with each finger he pulled back.  He even went back through all the multiplication facts for nine twice more without Sam having to say another word to him.  "This is awesome.  I'm going to have to show David."

Sam chuckled as he leaned back on his chair and watched a few more minutes as Alex continued practicing his multiplication facts.  A tinge of sadness tugged on his heart as he thought of himself as a father.  The only thought that went through his mind was if he ever had children that he hoped that he could be the type of father that he was being right now for Alex Wright.

"Alex?”  Sam called out the young man who seemed excited about studying his multiplication facts.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"How about we skip around now?"  Seeing the young man nod, Sam began throwing out multiplication facts left and right with Alex naming them almost immediately.  Sam even went a little higher on a few facts and couldn't help but chuckle with Alex paused then answered correctly.  They continued studying over the simple mathematics for another thirty minutes before Sam saw Alex yawn.

"All right, Mr. Multiplication, it's time for you to go to bed," Sam said as he sat up and closed the math book that was in front of him.  "Go brush your teeth and go to bed, all right?"

Alex stood up and nodded his head.  "Okay, Dad," Alex said as he started around the table.  He stopped then went back to where Sam was sitting.  Throwing his arms around Sam's neck, he hugged Sam then started toward the bathroom.  He stopped halfway to the bathroom, and then said, "Dad?"

"Yes, Alex?"

"I have a spelling test on Friday.  Could you... would you mind helping me study for it too?  Maybe you'll have another idea of how to help me remember how to spell those words?"

Sam nodded his head.  "Only if you remind me."

"Okay, Dad.  Thanks!" 

Sam watched as Alex went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and started back toward the bedroom.  Once Alex was in bed and the lights were out, Sam headed back toward his bedroom and hoped that he hadn't promised something to Alex that his father wouldn't do.

PART EIGHT

May 8, 2006

Project Liberty

Hope Springs , Virginia

10:50 PM

After Gillis Woods had cautiously entered Project Liberty, he made his way through the complex as he had been assigned to locate and take possession of the computer chip that was housed in amongst the computer known as Omega.  Finding the main control room without much trouble, he looked up at the dark oval eye of Omega.  What he knew had once been an active sporadic energy filled eye of knowledge, he paid homage to the once massive computer that had been his master’s brief home.  Giving a slight bow, he immediately went over to the control panel and using the appropriate tools took the panel off.  Peering within the dark wiring that was within, he spied the chip he was searching for and smiled.  Moving deftly, he released it from its housing, placed it in a pocketed pouch, then stood and patted the top of the console.  “There, there, girl,” he replied calmly.  “You don’t need this chip anymore.  It’s of no use to you.”  Turning, he skillfully and vigilantly made his way out of the complex and headed back to the car where Vaughn waited patiently.

“You have the chip?” Vaughn stated more than asked as he put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space.

Gillis lightly patted the small padded envelope that he had slid into his vest pocket as he looked at his brother.  “We have work to do.”

By the time that the men had reported back to Project Alexander, the energy between them grew by leaps and bounds.  It was as if they were feeding off of each other.  They entered into the complex, almost giddy with the exhilaration that bound them. 

“Are you ready to integrate into the mainframe?” Gillis asked after he called the elevator to the level they were at.

Vaughn’s eyes almost sparkled from the anticipation that he was feeling.  “To be a part of Lothos?  Definitely.”

The brief elevator ride down to Level Thirteen was accomplished quickly.  The brothers nodded to the few personnel they passed in the corridor as they marched with anticipation to the only other corridor on this level, then turned into it.  Neither man said anything as they walked, the gazes of both fixed on the double titanium doors that marked the only entrance into Central Control.

At the door, each stepped up to a retinal scanner and looked into it, remaining in that position until a generic computer voice acknowledged first Gillis' and then Vaughn's identity.

Even after all the time that Lothos' complex had lay all but deserted, some habits returned easily for those eager for them to resume.  Gillis, in leading the way across the large main room, paused for a second on the large recently repainted red circle on the floor, faced the still darkened new mainframe and bowed his head briefly. Continuing on, he didn't look to see if Vaughn had done the same or not.  All that mattered now was to take these final two important steps to return his master to his rightful place of power.

He spared only a passing glance at the empty satellite computer stations that lined the walls of the big room.  Very soon there would be men and women at those units inputting data and doing the myriad jobs that aided and added to Lothos' power and, ultimately, would bring the entity they all served, the power he sought and believed was rightfully his to claim.

Walking past the end of the huge mainframe, the brothers walked in silence to the plain stainless steel wall.  Going to a specific area of it, Gillis reached to put his right hand on the wall and waited.  A second later, the seemingly invisible door glided open.  From within the room that Gillis had personally supervised the cleaning and sanitizing of several months before wafted that smell of hyper-cleanliness.  In the center of the room, the Plexiglas casket now stood empty, awaiting the next man that would occupy it.  Every instrument, specialized computer and medical machine that would ever be needed in here was in place.  Even the temperature was meticulously set to a constant sixty-five degrees.  There was only one thing left to bring into the room to make it and the complex that contained it, alive once more.

Turning his head, Gillis found his older brother, and only sibling's gaze upon him.  No words were necessary; each knew that this was the beginning of good-bye.  Though neither was much on displaying emotions, they embraced each other for long several moments. It was Vaughn who broke the embrace and took a step back from Gillis.

"The sooner we get started, the sooner he'll be back where he belongs," the slightly older man told his younger brother.

Gillis felt a surge of pride and admiration for the man before him.  "I agree," he said firmly.

Entering the room, and while Gillis went to an intercom set in the wall at the head of the casket, Vaughn Woods walked slowly around the room, lightly touching a dial here, peering closely at an array of medical instruments that would ultimately be attached to his body.  As if he had deliberately designed his movements to do so, he came last of all, again to the casket.  He turned lightly toward the sound of Gillis' voice.

"The doctors and the chief of integration are on their way here now, Vaughn," Gillis said, coming up to his brother.  He noted the visible tiny bumping ripples beneath his brother's skin.  The nanites were already reacting to the adrenaline beginning to pour into Vaughn's bloodstream.

Silence hung between them for two or three minutes, and was ultimately broken when Gillis said simply, "You will always be remembered with honor, Vaughn.  And I will see to it that you are tended to with the greatest of care."

On the other hand, Vaughn sensed that the moment could become maudlin even not intended, and so nipped it quickly in the bud.  "You better, little brother.  Remember, in one form or another, I'll be watching to see that you do."

It was to the sound of laughter that the three highly trained and most trusted men entered the small room a moment later.  Vaughn Woods went to each man, shaking that one's hand and calling him by name and praising and thanking him for his devotion to the one they all ultimately served.  The last handshake was given and as his hand left the second doctor's grip, the chief integration technician took the initiative.

"Come with me, sir," David Whilman said clearly.  "This is going to take about two hours, so we need to get started immediately."  Stepping back and with a light wave of one hand he directed Vaughn Woods toward a small alcove off the room where it would begin.

As he turned to follow the technician, Vaughn paused to look at his brother one last time.  Grinning lightly, he made a small fist with one hand and punched Gillis gently on one shoulder.  "See you around the complex, little brother."

In the grand spectrum of time, the two hours seemed to spread out into an eternity.  Gillis had no idea how many times he had paced up and down the small room, waiting for any sign from the inner sanctum room to know if the transformation was complete.  He had his sign when he saw the three doctors come back into the room, easily carrying his brother and placing him in the casket and quickly attached the conduits to the obvious ports now in his sides, feet, hands and head. 

Gillis still had his doubts that it was completed until he heard what he would consider a sigh flutter down from around them.  Gillis tilted his head slightly to the side, licked his lips, and then said, "Vaughn?"

It was silent again for several long moments before a metallic voice responded.  "Gillis, it's... amazing the scope of his power."

Gillis slightly smiled as he lifted his hand to his vest pocket and pulled out the small chip that he had pulled from Omega's mainframe. As soon as he pulled it out of the protected envelope that it was in, he heard a whispered, "Yes," float down around him and he nodded as moved over to where Lothos had told him to place it when he was ready to release him back into his complex.

Bowing his head, he placed the disk into the portal and watched as it was drawn into the massive mainframe.  It was only then that the wall protectively sealed itself and he stepped back away from it and slowly lowered himself to the floor not sure exactly what was going to happen. 

Within nanoseconds of the precious black computer chip being placed into receiving portal and then drawn deep within the massive mainframe, the entity that was Lothos felt himself released. 'Yes!' he exulted within his own form of being as he surged mightily out of tiny chip where he had hidden for so long.  In the time it took two nanoseconds to pass, Lothos had circulated and examined every micro-centimeter of the new mainframe. Finding it to be meticulously perfect, he flowed through the circuitry and conduits like evil quicksilver, then he reached that final portal that was the key, merging with every muscle and sinew and atom of the physical body that had been Vaughn Woods.

The reactive screaming that emitted from the body now safely encased within the casket lasted only a few seconds as the body accepted his presence.  Silence and calm once more settled over the small room. The silence lasted only a moment and then a humming was heard. The men, who had fallen to the floor, hands pressed over their ears and cringing from the screaming, looked around, then got to their feet.  The chief integration technician scanned the room for the sound but the sound wasn't coming from within it; the humming was out of it in the great room.

Seeing the man's expression, Gillis' heart began to beat faster; he was on David Whilman's heels as he rushed out of small room that held the casket.  Both men took only a few steps toward the center of the room then stopped their eyes wide as they watched as the processors and circuits within the huge mainframe whirred and hummed.  Like a slow steady wave, various tiny indicator lights winked then lit up.

"Isn't it magnificent?" Gillis whispered softly under his breath as he beheld the return, the reclamation, the rebirth of the one he had served and would continue from this moment to serve the rest of his days.  At the sound of his master's laughter slowly then more vigorously filling the room, Gillis Woods felt both pride and exhilaration. Then Lothos spoke his first words into his rebuilt complex and all four of the men standing before him bowed their heads.

"Yes, Mr. Woods," Lothos declared with grand arrogance. "I am magnificent.  You have obeyed and carried out your duties most excellently."  As he surveyed those standing before him, the reborn megalomaniac hybrid computer once again resumed the business of overseeing every aspect of the lives of the people -- his possessions --once more living and serving him within Project Alexander.

To those waiting before him, he ordered, "Stand up." When they were on their feet, he dismissed them back to their duties and issuing more orders for even more fine tuning of the care for the new occupant of casket.  As the doctors and Mr. Whilman took proper leave from his presence, Lothos said, "Mr. Woods, you will remain."  It was only a moment later, as the double doors sealed after David Whilman crossed the threshold that Gillis Woods respectfully walked to the large red circle in front of the mainframe, stepped into the center of it, got down on his knees, his hands at his sides, bowed his head and waited.

Lothos simply watched this devoted one's obeisance to him for a moment then moved on, eager and determined more intently to achieve his goal.

"Stand up, Mr. Woods," he commanded.  "We have much to talk about and there is much to be done."  Watching Gillis Woods do as bidden, Lothos began to lay out the first paths to be taken to resume his course toward the goal of world domination.

PART NINE

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

Project Quantum Leap

July 23, 2007

Once back at the project, as he gave the handlink back to Dom for recharging, Al also thought to have him keep an eye on Sam's vital signs.

"Is there a problem with Dr. Beckett, Admiral?" Dom inquired as he deftly set specific monitors to alarm if any of Sam's vital signs went beyond his normal parameters.

Al shook his head lightly.  "No.  It's just that when he leaped into this guy, he got a dose of the flu the Visitor's dealing with at the moment."

Dom grinned slightly.  "Understood, sir."  He watched as the Observer exited the room, responding simply, "Okay," then informed, "I'm going to talk with the Visitor if you need me."

The trip to the Waiting Room took all of three or four minutes, but it was enough time for Al to begin pondering Sam's request of him to talk with Ross Wright about his son.  Turning the last corner, Al saw the ever present pair of Marine guards on duty in front of the Waiting Room doors.  There was no great sense of urgency; at the moment, in the present Sam occupied, he was fairly certain that the studying session was almost over, and that Sam and Alex would soon be snug in their beds.

As he drew closer to the Waiting Room, Al's thoughts slipped easily back to the days when his girls were Alex's age, or there about, and the evenings he and Beth had spent helping their daughters study.  He paused a few paces in front of the guards. Glancing at the two highly trained Marines, Al watched them stand aside to allow him to approach the sealed door.  He first put the palm of his right hand on the palm recognition plate affixed to the wall on one side of the door. When that confirmed his identity, he stepped closer and looked into the retinal eye scanner.  Only when the computerized voice acknowledged, "Recognition of Admiral Albert Calavicci is confirmed," did he step back.  Within seconds the Waiting Room door slid open and he entered the large room. He didn't move until the door had sealed behind him.

From where he stood, Al observed Ross Wright, wearing a Fermi suit and enshrouded in Sam's aura, watching him from the opposite side of the mirrored table.  The man didn't appear alarmed or frightened, just alert.

"Hello," Al said easily as he advanced further into the Waiting Room.  "How are you doing, Mr. Wright?"

Ross Wright didn't shift his position, only straightened up to his full height, facing the much older man wearing a chartreuse suit, the color of which was either enriched or outraged by the teal shirt he wore with it, standing across the mirror-topped table from him.  "Where am I?" he asked straight out. "And for that matter, who are you and why am I here... wherever this is?"  Watching the man watching him, something else occurred to him that changed his tone and focus. "And what have you done with my son?"

During the brief walk from the Control Room to the Waiting Room, Ziggy had filled Al in on the rest of the information both she and Verbena had garnered from the Visitor.  Now, presented yet again with a barrage of questions, three of which he'd lost count of the number of times he'd heard them over the years, Al met Ross Wright's gaze calmly.

“My name is Al, Mr. Wright," Al began, moving to the table but not attempting to go around it to approach the visitor.  "It has been referred to by others as a hospital, though that isn't technically correct. However, Mr. Wright, I assure you, that you are quite safe and will remain so for the time you are here."

Ross' eyes narrowed as he listened to Al, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest.  "That's either the best line of bull I've ever heard," he responded, "or you've given that answer to a lot of other people before me.  Which is it?"

Al couldn't help chuckling at the straightforward statement. "I'll leave that for you to decide," he said lightly.  "Ross... may I call you that?" he asked.

The Visitor shrugged one shoulder in an offhand manner.  "Suit yourself."

Al didn't press the issue further, deciding instead to get to his specific reason for being in the Waiting Room. "You have a very bright little boy, Ross.  You must be quite proud of Alex."

The mention of his son's name brushed aside any further questions Ross might have had about the unusual room -- to say nothing of the strange reflection he had beheld upon looking at the mirrored surface of the table upon opening his eyes a short time before.  Dropping his arms again, he planted his hands on the table and leaned slightly across it toward the Observer.  "Where is Alex? What have you done with him?"

Al wasn't in the least put off by the sudden shift in attitude by the Visitor.  All the Visitors to the Waiting Room over the previous years had, for the most part, similar reactions to the sound of their children's names spoken.  He smiled softly at the young man.  "Alex is safely at home and being looked after."

"By who?"

Al studied the Visitor's expression a moment before saying, "By a man that I would trust with the lives of my grandchildren without the smallest qualm."

Ross turned the response over and over, matching it against the look in Al's eyes, for a minute or more. He didn't know this man from Adam's house cat, and in spite of feeling like he had wakened in the middle of a strange dream, felt he could trust Al. "Okay," was all he said.  However, when Al spoke again, the question caught him a little sideways.

"Do you think your son is smart, Ross?"

Ross blinked, a puzzled look coming over his face as he stood upright.  "Of course, I do!" he sputtered. "You even said the same thing a minute ago."

Al put his hands into the pockets of his trousers, pursing his lips thoughtfully a moment, nodding lightly.  "Do you think he'll go to college someday?"

Ross stepped back from the mirror-surfaced table and turned away, walked three steps then turned to face Al again.  "Yes," he said strongly. "As smart as he is, yes, my son is going to go to college.  I want him to be something; do more than get himself stuck in a nine-to-five rut for the rest of his life."  Returning to the table, his curiosity pushed him to demand, "What are you driving at with all these questions about my son?"

Al's response was another question. "Do you help Alex with his schoolwork, Ross?"

Now the Visitor did a double take.  "Not that it's really any of your business, but no, I don't.  He's smart.  Besides the fact that I work ten hours a day five days a week to pay the rent and bills and put food on the table, my son doesn't need my help with his lessons." 

Ross’ mouth dropped open when Al responded, "That's where you're wrong, Ross. Alex does need your help with his studies."

"What would you know about it?" Alex demand, not a little stung by the blunt observation.

Al dropped his head slightly as he looked down at the narrow table that Ross was standing beside, and then glanced back up at the young man.  "I've raised my share of young ladies, all grown now; the last one is now in college and preparing for her wedding.  All four of them had problems in grade school and with Alex being in those grade years at the moment..."

"You're trying to tell me how to raise my son.  I don't appreciate..."

"No sir," Al said with a shake of his head.  "I'm in no way telling you how to raise your son.  That is totally up to you.  I am giving advice to you though, from one father to another, that when my daughters went through their early grades they needed and wanted my help.  I was able to supply that for them, to give them support and they now know that they can come to me for any kind of problem that may come up."  Al slightly pursed his lips then brought up a hand and flipped it over.  "As a matter of fact, Christa called me up today to ask me about which kind of china that her mother had.  That's just one of those things that she could have asked her mom, but she came to me.  Call me selfish, but I liked that."

"Alex doesn't have a mom.  She died when he was five."  Ross turned a few steps away from the bed and paced lightly before he turned back to Al who just watched him for a moment.  "Why would you care about what goes on in my home?  Why would you bother?"

The Observer, however, wasn't finished with his carefully selected set of "20 Questions".  Licking his lips lightly, allowing a certain thought to flit through his thoughts, he said, "I won't ask if you love your son, Ross, because I can see that you do."

"Damn straight, I love my son!" the Visitor declared.

Al just nodded his agreement with Ross. "And you show it..."

Ross' blue eyes darkened as he started around the table toward Al, pointing his finger at him. "I show him by going to work every day," he stated. "I show him by putting a roof over his head and food on the table and...."

"Do you ever take time to play with him?"

Suspicion flared through Ross suddenly and he turned sharply, his gaze lifted to the high ceiling of the Waiting Room as he scanned every inch of it before turning back to Al.  "Yes. We go fishing occasionally and he plays on the soccer team at his school."

Al smiled broadly. "I'll bet you're proud of him, aren't you, Ross?"

"Yes!" Ross shouted.  "I'm very proud of my son."

"But you don't have time to help him study?" Al had subtly circled back to the point he wanted to make.

"I told you," Ross reiterated. "Alex is smart. He doesn't need my help."

"But he does, Ross," Al told him, his tone non-accusatory, his gaze direct, compelling the younger man to meet it.  He let the Visitor think on that a moment, then added enigmatically, "What would you say if I told you that your son won't go to college?"

"I'd say you need to recheck your crystal ball, "swami"," Ross shot back.

Al shook his head subtly. "You're wrong," he stated plainly, his tone indicating that he wouldn't be swayed from his opinion. "Because you don't show any interest in helping him now," he said, "by the time Alex is turns fifteen, he's going to drop out of school..."

Ross glared at the Observer.  "How's my helping my seven year old son with his spelling and math going to prevent him from being a juvenile delinquent?"

"I didn't say he became a juvenile delinquent, Mr. Wright," Al corrected quietly. "I said..."

"What difference does it make?" Ross almost shouted.

Now the Observer was the one closing the distance between himself and the Visitor, moving around the table to approach within arm's reach of the man. Searching Ross Wright's intense blue gaze, he said quietly, "It will make a difference because you will be showing Alex that you care about his education.  It will show him that even for something as simple as coaching him in his spelling or helping him to learn the multiplication tables, that you believe in him, that you really care whether or not he understands what he's learning in school. And even more, it will show him, that if he fails a test, that it's not the end of the world, and to try, try again."  Al paused, the smile on his lips increasing a bit more. "I heard Alex tell my friend who's watching over him while you're here, that he just wants to make you proud of him."

Ross looked at Al with his mouth open slightly in awe.  "He said that?"  Seeing Al nod his head up and down, Ross turned away from Al slightly and sniffled before he turned back with his arms a bit wider.  "You know, it's been hard since his mom, Diane, passed away.  I'm... I'm only one person.  I work long hours to make just enough to scrape by.  I’m..."

"You're exhausted when you come home and you just want to relax," Al finished up for him.  "Been there.  Ross, you have an opportunity in front of you - and if you don't take a hold of it and grasp it with both hands, you'll lose it.  I almost did," Al responded softly.  "Live up every day with Alex, even when you're tired.  Even if it's just calling out spelling words, he'll know that you are trying."

Ross licked his lips, swallowed and blinked hard.  "You know Al, he already makes me proud."

Al smiled as he nodded his head.  "Won't you be even more so when he walks across that stage to get his diploma?"

"Yeah," Ross said softly.  Ross stood there for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair.  Although he was more than a bit reluctant in doing so, he brought his hand down and held it out to Al.  "Thanks, Al.  You've given me something to think about."

A slow grin crossed Al's face as he shook the Visitor's hand.  "That's all a smart man needs sometimes," he said. "Just a little something to think about."

A few minutes later, Al departed the Waiting Room, leaving the man wearing Sam's aura to think about their conversation and perhaps some sleep.  Glancing at his watch as he headed for the Control Room to check in with the technicians on duty, he said softly, "I think I'll catch a few zzzzzzs myself."

Ten minutes later, Al was entering his quarters quietly.  Considering the late hour -it was one of those rare leaps when the time of day in the present was close to being in sync with the current leap - he wasn't surprised to find his quarters dark.  Closing the door softly, he adjusted the dimmer switch to keep the light low, and then crossed to the hallway that led to the bedroom.  He stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into pajamas, went to turn off the living room light and headed for bed.

Moving quietly, Al crossed the darkened bedroom and carefully slipped into bed beside his already sleeping spouse.  Leaning over, he touched a soft kiss on Beth's temple, snuggled against her and drew the covers up to his shoulder.

"What were you doing?" a vague sleepy voice mumbled back to him.

Al smiled and whispered back, "Spelling."  Hearing Beth's incomprehensible mumbling, he chuckled softly and whispered close to her ear, "Go back to sleep."

"Okay. Night."

"Night, sweetheart," he said softly, kissed her again and settled his head on the pillow with a sigh.  Closing his eyes, he quickly fell asleep.

PART TEN

Project Alexander

The British Isle

It was true to the nth degree. Lothos had plenty to do to keep Gillis Woods and the rest of the complex on their toes. Between the small side projects of creating and assimilating cyborg representations of Zoë and Thames to aid him in training the next generation of leapers and the rest of the assignments given unto him to keep trying to find Alia and the two do-gooders in Time, Gillis never realized how much time had passed.

After the intensity of rebuilding the complex and returning Lothos to Project Alexander, Gillis had not failed to carry out every order and duty given him by the parallel super-hybrid computer.  For a few moments he had felt overwhelmed when Lothos had put the responsibility on his shoulders of selecting the first candidates for training as leapers in the dawning new era of Lothos quest of his goal.  It did not, however, sway or weaken his determination and soon thereafter, a class of eighteen of the best candidates took their first steps in training to serve Lothos as leapers.  Yet though he demanded years of training, Lothos was not known for his patience and so Gillis and a handful of other leapers who had survived the attack on Lothos and the complex were recalled to active duty status as leapers.

For Lothos' leapers, once trained, the lessons and experiences learned never totally faded away.  Gillis and the other leapers were kept extremely busy, succeeding more often than not.  Two of the small group of experienced leapers were killed in the course of their jobs.  Then came the leap in late 2009 when Gillis came within a hair's breadth of being killed.  Instead, fate --and Lothos--looked favorably upon his unswerving devotion to his master, and he was permitted to retire from active leaping.  During his rehabilitation, Lothos set him to be a counselor to class of leapers that were approaching their graduation.

When the new class of leapers achieved graduation and began taking their initial leaps to gain hands on experience, Lothos quietly ordered Gillis into full retirement.  None of those living and serving in the complex ever realized his disappearance from the everyday situations. No one ever knew of the late night discussions between Lothos and Gillis, one giving orders and the other carrying them out from the shadows on the perimeters of life within the complex.

It was from those shadows that Gillis had watched with great interest when Lothos had ordered Thames to choose from the now experienced young leapers two to vie for and claim the coveted positions of Chief Leaper and Chief Observer.  He had witnessed the ego crushing sacrifices that each had been forced to make to prove their loyalty to Lothos; it had brought back a fleeting moment of memory of the sacrifice of loyalty that had been demanded of him.

From a sound sleep one night, Lothos had summoned Gillis to another clandestine meeting in Central Control.  There, he had lain out before the one human being that he trusted to know his most guarded plans for bringing down the meddling time traveler, Samuel Beckett and his observer, Albert Calavicci.  The reinvigorated super hybrid computer hadn't hidden even a whit of his thirst for special revenge upon the man called Calavicci.

It was during the new Head Leaper's first high level leap into one General Hawkins that Gillis got the first inkling that his quiet retirement might soon be interrupted.  His instincts were, as he'd suspected, right on target, and it was in the midst of Lothos handling what had tried to become an awkward problem, that Gillis received the summoning he'd been waiting for.

The initial interview with young Vaughn Rickar had set the pattern for their working relationship, and Gillis hadn't wasted any time in taking every opportunity to make it clear to the "young buck" that, while a good decade and a half older than Vaughn Rickar, the younger man shouldn't take him lightly.  He'd taken special pleasure in driving that point home during the leap in the suicide of Marilyn Hicks.  In the end, it had been another infuriating loss when Samuel Beckett had NOT died by his own hand, but had escaped Lothos' justice again.

Still, as things had worked themselves out over the course of leaps that followed - and young Rickar had learned another hard lesson about the level of perfection to which his position as Chief Leaper held him - Lothos had again called Gillis from sleep to another meeting in Central Control in the dead of night.

Gillis had listened intently, picturing in his mind every step that Lothos set before him for his consideration and opinion.  Finally, there was only one question that remained to be answered.

"The plan is flawless, Lothos," Gillis spoke with the candor only the given and learned familiarity allowed him to do. "However...there is one thing."

"And what is that, Gillis?" Lothos asked, his equable and even tone one that would have startled any of the general populace had they ever heard it.

"Who is it that you are going to leap into Beckett's project to lay the groundwork for dealing with Admiral Calavicci?"  In the next instant, Gillis Woods had a reintroduction to the wariness all humans learned quickly under Lothos' rule, as the hairs on the back of his neck stiffened.  A cold shiver chased down his spine when the computer chuckled softly.  The thread of menace in the laughter was unmistakable.

"There is no need for that," Lothos said his voice soft but huge with anticipation.  "He's already inside Project Quantum Leap."

Gillis considered Lothos' words with a nod.  "Interesting, to use one of Beckett's own to get back at them."  Gillis paused in his thoughts as another question came to him, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask it of his master.

Lothos, who had watched every nuance of Gillis' face, noticed the slight change in the man's face.  "What is it, Gillis?  You've another question.  Ask it."

Gillis licked his lips, and then cautiously formed the question before he spoke it.  "How will you know that it will work out the way that you plan it?"

"Don't worry, Gillis.  We have an ace in the hole," Lothos almost whispered conspiratorially.

"An ace in the hole?  Who?" Gillis asked puzzled.

"It doesn't matter who.  Just know that we have someone at the project whom we can trust and trust impeccably.  They will assist Vaughn, and I will have my revenge on Calavicci for what he did to Zoë.  He will regret everything that he has done unto one of my possessions - one way or another." 

As silence filled the room, everything that had passed between he and Lothos in the past short while began to slowly take form before his mind's eye what his master's intent and goal was.  While his master demanded open allegiance to him in all things, Gillis realized the brilliance of this new plan.  How much more devious and effective it would be to defeat his enemy by his enemy's own hand.  Greater things are often accomplished in small quiet movements than with fanfare that shines too bright a light on that which is better not seen or realized until it's too late.

PART ELEVEN

Bertram , Texas

September 11, 2001

6:30 A.M.

As the alarm began to go off next to him, Sam groaned and reached out to try to silence the loud clanking sound that Ross had set.  Had he but known how annoying and obtrusive it was, Sam might not have made sure that it was set when he went to bed.  Not being able to figure out how to turn it off from where he was, he had to get up out of bed, turn on the light, then pick up the alarm clock and find it's off button.  Thankful that silence had finally surrounded him again; he looked at the comfortable bed once thinking about crawling back in between the sheets once more, closed his eyes and turned to head toward the kitchen.  The first thing that he needed was coffee, and lots of it. 

Even as Sam poured the water into the coffee pot, he sneezed several times in a row.  He paused in putting the coffee into the filter to succumb to another sneeze before he was able to get the coffee started.  Thankful that he was done with it, he yawned and rubbed at his eyes as he went to the bathroom to look for some medicine that he could take.  Taking some acetaminophen and an allergy pill, he started out of the bathroom and grabbed Ross' robe at the foot of the bed.  Entering the kitchen once again, he parked himself in front of the coffeepot waiting for it to finish brewing. 

Finally pouring himself some coffee, Sam let the coffee cup warm his hands for several minutes before he made it to the table and sat down.  Only then, did he start to sip at the brew and moaned thankfully at its warmth.  "Thank you, Lord," he murmured softly between sips.  "It's the simple things in life."

Sitting at the table and enjoying his coffee, Sam looked slowly around the kitchen.  It was something of a surprise when he spotted the small TV sitting on top of the refrigerator.  Standing up from the table, he crossed the room to turn it on.  A sharp clear picture appeared instantly, the voice of the newscaster bright and pleasant as he continued delivering the morning news.  Returning to sit at the table, Sam indulged in another five minutes of finishing his coffee and learning a little about the local area where his temporary 'home' was situated.  A commercial break had just finished and the weatherman for the local station was outlining what the weather was going to be like for the next seven days when an all too familiar sound interrupted.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to crawl out from under his rock and be sociable," Al greeted his best friend with a grin.

"What are you doing up so early?" Sam asked, lifting his cup to swallow the last few drops of coffee in it.

"It may be the crack of dawn for you here," Al deftly parried the question.  "But it's heading for lunch time back at the project.  Besides, since you've never known the joy and thrill of crawling out of bed before the roosters in order to get your kid off to school on time, I figured you might need a little nudge."

"Fooled you," Sam responded with a semblance of a grin.  "I've been up for the last twenty minutes."  To Al's look of mild surprise, he added, "Ross must set his alarm clock for the next morning when he gets up."  Shuffling over to the counter to pour himself a little more coffee, as he turned back towards Al, he asked, "Anything new to add about Ross or Alex?"

Glancing around, Al saw a clock in the shape of teapot affixed to a narrow space of wall by the kitchen door.  Taking the handlink from the pocket of his powder blue suit jacket, the Observer did a quick check on the local school district.  "Well, considering that it's almost seven o'clock and Alex has to catch the bus at 7:25, I'd say you'd better get him outta bed and fix him some breakfast."  He chuckled lightly as Sam hastily set his cup on the counter, managing to slosh a few drops of the hot coffee on his hand.

"Ouch," he hissed softly, shaking his hand a couple of times before grabbing a couple of paper towels from the paper towel dispenser affixed under one of the cabinets.  Wiping up the spilled coffee from the counter, he tossed the used towels in the trash then hurried out of the kitchen.

"Alex," he called out as he went down the hall.  "Alex, time to get up."  At the boy's bedroom door, Sam tapped lightly, then opened the door and peeked in.  He couldn't help grinning at the sight of the boy sprawled in the middle of the bed, one foot hanging off.  Entering the room, Sam went over and put a hand on Alex's shoulder and shook him gently.  "Come on, sport," he said softly. "Time to get up."  He gave the boy a moment then repeated the shaking, a bit more insistently, his voice a tad more firm as he repeated his early comments.  He also took the extra step of pulling the covers off and tossed them back to the end of the bed.

"Aww, Dad," Alex mumbled sleepily, but he did as told, pushed himself up to a sitting position, then swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Sam waited for the boy to actually stand up before he stepped back.  "You get yourself ready for school while I fix breakfast."  Apparently he'd said something unusual, judging by the way Alex blinked owlishly and looked up at him, most of the sleepiness vanishing from his eyes.  "What?" Sam asked. 

From the doorway, Al chuckled when Alex answered, "Usually we just have a Pop Tart or something.  You really are sick, Dad."

Sam ignored Al's chortling over the boy's innocent frankness with him.  "Well...not this morning," he finished lamely.  "Since I'm not going to work today, I've got the time to cook you breakfast. How about some oatmeal?"  At the sight of Alex's nose wrinkling, Sam mentally reviewed the items in the refrigerator and made his next suggestion. "Okay, how about scrambled eggs and toast?"

"Okay!" Alex agreed enthusiastically, and on that note, he hurried out of his room to the bathroom.  Sam and Al returned to the kitchen where one started getting out the items he needed for cooking, while ignoring the other's suggestions for "kicking it up a notch" with spices.

"Those eggs are gonna be so...blah," Al commented as he watched Sam pour the beaten eggs into the pre-heated skillet.

"I'm fixing them for a seven year old boy," Sam responded.  "I don't think he's up to your twelve alarm chilies over eggs."

"Sam, you're just making him miss out on something extraordinarily good!  Bah," Al said with a flip of his arms and rolled his eyes as Sam just shook his head and continued on making the bland meal.

It was at that point that Alex came into the kitchen and looked at his father standing in front of the stove.  "I thought that I heard you talking to someone, Dad."

"I was," Sam answered making both Alex and Al perk at the news.  Sam then pointed to the television up on the refrigerator.  "I was commenting on how he was right about the weather."

"Ooookay," Alex said simply. 

Sam slid Alex's eggs and toast on a plate then sat it in front of the boy who was already at the table.  "Want some milk?"

"Sure,” Alex said with his mouth full. 

Instead of castigating him, Sam just shook his head and went and got the young man some milk.  Sitting it in front of him, Sam looked at the clock to see that it was ten minutes before the bus was to arrive to take Alex to school.  "Alex, you need to hurry.  The bus is coming in ten minutes."

Alex only nodded and forked more eggs into his mouth.  He watched as Sam went back over to the refrigerator and turned up the volume on the television then came back to the table with a new refreshed cup of coffee as he bit into his toast.

Sam gave Alex a small smile as he sipped his coffee, and then asked, "Nine times eight?"

Alex immediately brought his hands up, used the method that he had been taught then answered proudly, "Seventy-two."

With a nod, Sam gave a thumbs up sign to Alex as he took a sip of coffee with the other hand.   Bringing the cup down, he tried another.  "Nine times six."

Alex did the same method again and answered, "Fifty-four."

"Hey, what's that he's doing with his hands?" Al asked as he watched him.

"Very good," Sam told Alex then looked at the time.  "Okay, finish up your milk, and then I want you to go to school and make the best grade that you can.  Practice that on the way to school. OK?"

Sam watched as Alex picked up the milk and downed it before he stood up, grabbed his backpack and headed for the door.  "You got it, Dad."  He stopped at the door and turned to look back at his father before he rushed back over to him.  He threw his arms around him, then said, "Thanks for helping me, Dad."

"No problem," Sam answered with a grin as he watched the young boy rush out the door.

"What was that he was doing with his hands, Sam?  That wasn't the eentsy weentsy spider.  I know that one," Al stated plainly.

In spite of not feeling all that great, Al's question about the learning method he'd taught Alex the evening before did nudge his spirits up a couple of notches.  Grinning, he watched Al mimicking what he'd watched Alex do with his hands moments before.

Rising from the table, Sam picked up his plate then reached over to get Alex's plate.  Pausing a moment, he said, "It's an easy method for helping children learn multiplication facts."  The grin on Sam's face increased a little more as he watched Al another moment then turned away to go put the dishes in the sink.  Checking in the cupboard under the sink, Sam found a bottle of dish soap and a plastic dishpan.  Putting the dishpan in one side of the double sink, he turned on the hot water and added a squirt of the dishwashing liquid.  Placing the plates into the hot soapy water, he turned back to collect the forks and saucers and such from the table.  He started to wash the dishes then, while rinsing a plate under the stream of running water in the other sink, he said, "Well, if Alex is on his way to passing that test today, why haven't I leaped?"

Behind him, Al pulled out the handlink and pressed a few buttons. Shrugging his shoulders lightly, he sauntered over to stand beside Sam. "I guess you'll leap when Alex takes the test."

Sam sighed and shook his head lightly then turned back to finishing the dishes.  "So what am I supposed to do...?”  The rest of his thought went unspoken as a staccato sort of beeping sound suddenly emanated from the small television set.  Reacting to the sound, he half-turned, one hand still immersed in the soapy dishwater.  His puzzled gaze became even more so at the sight of a "BREAKING NEWS" banner in bright red crawled across the lower quarter of the screen.  Before he could blink, the relaxed easy banter of the local news program vanished as one of the major TV news networks broke in.

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you grave news," the well known national news anchor stated grimly.  "Six minutes ago, at 8:45 a.m., Eastern Daylight Time, an American Airlines plane crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center , tearing a gaping hole in the building and set it afire."

For Sam Beckett it felt as if someone had just slammed him in the solar plexus as he stared, wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open.  His mind was flooded with dozens of questions, but for as badly as he wanted, needed answers; he was transfixed by the horror of watching the instant replay of the massive airplane slamming into the glistening north tower of the World Trade Center .

Behind Sam, his Observer, too, was watching what was for him and all those in his present, the horrific replay of the first of the triple tragic and unprovoked attacks of that September day.  From the first loud sounding of the interruption of the newscast, Al had quietly pocketed the handlink.  Like countless thousands of other people across the United States and the world, he didn't need a computer to replay the facts that had been seared into their memories.  Instead, though he did glance at the small TV screen a couple of times, Admiral Albert Calavicci's gaze remained mostly on the clearly stunned leaper.  He chose not to interrupt the visual overload Sam was experiencing, not even when Sam, as if he were sleepwalking, stepped back and back until he bumped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.  He would know the moment when it was time to speak.  At last, Al watched his friend start to slowly turn toward him; he waited for Sam to speak first.

From the swirling confusion in his usually uncluttered mind, Sam Beckett searched for and finally found the question that filled him with dread, but had to be asked.  Licking his lips as he looked to his Observer, he asked the one word question. "Lothos?" he whispered the query through dry lips.

Al didn't prolong his response, and as he started to speak, he could see the first hazy blue rays beginning to glow around his friend.  He couldn't let Sam leap without an answer to his question.  Looking steadily into his friend's anguished eyes, Al said somberly, "No, Sam. Not Lothos.  This time..." he glanced at the small TV screen for a second, then back to his friend. "This time, it was someone far worse than Lothos."

Sam stared into Al's dark eyes and in that glance; he saw the sorrow revealed there.  He didn't realize that tears were already starting to run down his face as, though the familiar pull of the impending leap was growing, he was startled when another emergency alert sounded from the television set and he whirled to stare at it.

Never had Sam Beckett gone more willingly into the pull of a leap out as he did now.  Only this time as he entered the comforting vast blueness for several… seconds... minutes... who knew how long... he heard the words of a second news caster, the horror in the man's voice haunting him with the words, "....a second American Airlines plane has just struck the south tower of the World Trade Center in New York City.  Both towers are now burning.”

Even as Sam felt himself suspended in the blue vastness that surrounded him, he called out passionately to the one that was bouncing him around in Time.  “Why?”

The answer he received back wasn’t one that he wanted to hear.  “Everyone has to take responsibility for the life that they lead.  Some have chosen to take it upon themselves to force their beliefs onto others and in doing so, cost the lives of thousands.”

“Then send me to help them,” Sam pleaded, his words echoing in the expanse.  “Let me warn them… something.”

Deep silence, the answer given unto him, was even more anguishing to John and Thelma Beckett’s youngest son than the enigmatic “soon” that was the answer to the question most on his lips while in the blue expanse.   The familiar pull toward yet another life to set something right that had once gone wrong seized him, and as he went with it, the tears that Sam Beckett would have wept for those lost in the crashes, instead seared his soul as he once more left the vast endless blue void.

If one is willing to play the video... please look below for the start button.  Please be aware that there is a commercial at the beginning that couldn't be taken out and then if you press the play button again, you'll see the video.  Thanks.