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.
THE
INTERROGATION
Written
by Katherine Freymuth
With
special thanks to Erik Dreiling
Previously
on Quantum Leap:
Deceit: Sam Leaps into the life of Alexander Lothoman, Jr., the older brother of Nathaniel Lothoman, during the early phase of Project Alexander. While Al insists that he’s there to prevent Lothoman from completing his Project, Sam feels that he’s there for other reasons. That reason is revealed in the person of Tanya Primrose, a young nurse who is working for Lothoman. As it turns out, her body was found in a motel room. Sam quickly set out to save her, and he did, with the insistence that she change her name and leave the island. She did and Al then reported that wherever she was, she was safe.
Post
Traumatic Leap Syndrome: Salvation: Sam
Leaped into the life of Giovanni D’Abrosca, a tour guide living in the
city of
Bloodlines: Ed and Christa are able to finally put the pieces of their broken lives back together when Vaughn Rickar returns yet again. While Ed is detained in the Holding Chamber at Lothos’ Project, he is severely tortured by Xavier. Back at Quantum Leap, Vaughn sets out to destroy Al. Having managed to get Al and Julianna alone, Vaughn makes his move. After overpowering Julianna, he then is about to shoot Al when Christa sneaks up behind him, shooting him. The Evil Leaper is pulled out as he lies on the floor, bleeding, leaving in his place a severely wounded Ensign Sharpe. From there Ed is immediately rushed to the infirmary where he is under the care of Doctors Aurora Lofton and Roy Bremmer. Hope for Ed is slim, as he had slipped into a comatose state.
The
Meeting: Ed
Sharpe finds himself at Al’s Place in the midst of his deceased best
friend, Joe Wright. While Ed feels intense guilt for the loss of his unborn
child and for not being able to protect Christa when she needed him, thanks
to the Evil Leaper’s taking his place, Joe is able to show him, through
the intervention of Ed’s grandfather and through glimpses into how
devastating Ed’s death would be to Christa, that Ed is not at fault and
that he needs to return to Christa. As Ed begins to regain consciousness, he
discovers that Doctor Roy Bremmer is inches away from poisoning him. As he
weakly struggles to stop Bremmer, Al comes in and pulls the doctor off of
Ed. Ordering that Bremmer be taken to the security office, Al is now
determined to find out who Bremmer really is.
And
now the story continues…
PROLOGUE
Project
Quantum Leap
Office
of Chief Daniel Fulton
June
15, 2008
1:04
AM
Al Calavicci rubbed his face roughly as he left
the project infirmary, glancing at his watch as he did so. 0104 hours. That
meant that it was officially June 15th. That meant officially he
was now seventy-four years old. And right at that moment, he felt every bit
of the year’s time had given him. The past week didn’t help in making
him feel any younger either.
Al himself had experienced Lothos’
“hospitality”, receiving a broken hand as a result. But even his
injuries were nothing compared to what they had done to Edward Sharpe IV,
his son-in-law. In Al’s opinion, Ed’s survival was nothing short of a
miracle… that and sheer determination on Ed’s part. To think that his
determination to survive had almost become irrelevant thanks to the actions
of Doctor Roy Bremmer galled Al to no end. Yes, Al felt older now than he
had in a long time… but he also was more angry than he could ever remember
being. And an angry Rear-Admiral Albert Calavicci, retired, was a dangerous
thing to tangle with.
Stepping into the security office, he noted the
open door of Chief Fulton’s office and the man who sat, handcuffed, in
front of the Chief’s desk - the man who had nearly murdered Al’s
son-in-law, the man who murdered his unborn grandchild. Oh, an Evil Leaper
had used the poison on Christa to cause the miscarriage that nearly cost her
own life as well, but this man had made the toxic concoction. Al didn’t
have physical proof – yet – that Bremmer had created the poison that he
was going to inject into Ed only a few minutes ago. But Al didn’t need
physical proof to know, in his gut, that this was the guy who for the past
few months had royally screwed his family.
Ignoring Ziggy’s statement that Daniel Fulton
had been awakened and called to the office, Al walked towards the office,
determined to get answers from Bremmer one way or another without anyone
getting in his way.
As Al approached the office, he saw Bremmer
turn his head. The latter looked at Al with what could only be called cocky
amusement and arrogance, sending shivers down Al’s back as he looked into
the eyes of his enemy, eyes he was now certain he had seen before in a
completely different setting.
"Just
keep in mind one thing, Al. There are no choices that come without
consequences. You have no idea what you're messing with here, so I highly
advise you to watch your back. If you do anything to jeopardize what
Nathaniel is setting out to accomplish, you and those who you hold near and
dear will forever remember the name Lothoman."
The man in front of Al was thirty years older
and Al wasn’t sure why he didn’t see the connection ages ago when Aurora
Lofton had hired Bremmer as an on-staff physician, but Al had no doubts now
as he looked at the man smirking defiantly at him.
“Alexander Daniel Lothoman, Jr.,” Al
greeted, if you could call a look that could kill a greeting.
Duke Lothoman, also known as Doctor Roy
Bremmer, smiled wickedly up at his younger brother’s nemesis. “I warned
you a long time ago, Al. Well, a long time ago from my perspective.” He
leaned forward slightly, like a tiger eyeing his prey. “There are no
choices that come without consequences. And now, you do know the name
Lothoman very, very well.”
Al felt his jaw tighten ever so slightly.
PART
ONE
August
27, 2007
The heavy, quick rapping on the door had
startled him slightly as he’d set his newspaper down and adjusted his
reading glasses. Judging by the look on his face, he appeared as if he were
more annoyed by the interruption than startled by the rapping. Mumbling
something to himself, he stood up and went across the small living room and
over to the door. Slowly opening it he was met with the presence of a young
man dressed in a crisp Naval uniform. The man, more like a kid in his
opinion, didn’t appear to be older than twenty-five years of age.
The kid took a good, long look at the older man
for a moment, appearing as if he were making sure that he had the right
person. “Duke Lothoman,” he said plainly.
The older man shook his head. “Sorry, kid.
You got the wrong guy.” He was about to close the door when the kid shot
an arm out and firmly grabbed the door. The older man’s eyes widened a bit
in shock and anger.
“I don’t think so,” the kid replied with
a slight smirk.
“This is crazy,” he shot back. “My
name’s Bremmer. Roy Bremmer.”
“You’re name,” the kid corrected him with
slight irritation in his tone, “is Alexander Daniel Lothoman, Junior, and
you have a younger brother, Nathaniel. Nearly thirty years ago you assisted
him with Project Alexander in the
Duke simply stood there in shock. After a
couple moments he quickly glanced around to make sure that no one else was
present. He hastily cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “Come in,” he said
to the kid as he was already heading back to his chair. As the kid stepped
inside, Duke said to him, “Make it quick, kid. What are you here for?”
“I’m here because your brother sent me.”
He met Duke’s gaze as he sat down on the small couch.
“That’s a load of bullcrap,” Duke pointed
out. “Nathaniel’s dead. He’s been dead for a few years now. Hell, the
last I heard was that Alexander was destroyed, along with just about
everything in it. Including Nate,” he quickly added as he looked at the
kid. “So I don’t know what kind of-”
“This isn’t some kind of game, old man.
Your brother isn’t dead; he survived the attack. In fact he’s better
than ever. He’s more powerful than you could possibly imagine.”
“I know the story,” Duke groused. “I know
fully well that Nate had integrated himself into his Project. He became the
Project.”
“He needs you,” he said as he locked gazes
with Duke. “Lothos sent me here because he said you’re the only one who
he could trust impeccably.”
Duke slowly rocked in his chair. “Lothos,”
he said with a touch of astonishment in his tone.
The kid nodded. “He wanted me to tell you of
the one mainly responsible for the destruction of Project Alexander. His
name is Samuel Beckett.”
“Beckett?” Duke said with a raised eyebrow.
“I remember that guy. He and Nate went to MIT together. Beckett destroyed
Alexander? How?”
“Not far from here,” the kid explained,
“Beckett created a top secret project known as Quantum Leap. It’s
located beneath the desert in Stallions Gate.”
Duke held up a hand and leaned forward in his
chair. Clearly the frustration and confusion were evident in Duke’s eyes
and facial expression. “Wait a damn minute here, will you? First of all, I
don’t know who the hell you are, alright? Mind telling me that?”
“I’ve got two words for you,” he said.
“Time travel.”
“You’re from the future,” Duke said. When
the kid nodded he shook his head. “But if Beckett had destroyed Alexander
then how could you possibly be from the future?”
“Like the
“And who are you? You never really answered
my question.”
The kid smirked. “Don’t let my appearance
fool you. I’m not who I appear to be. You see,” he said as he stood up
and went over to the other side of the room where a small oval shaped mirror
hung from the wall, “when I came back I switched places with this guy. He
just so happens to be Admiral Calavicci’s son-in-law.”
“I thought,” Duke said as he stood up,
“that when people traveled in Time, they did it in their own bodies.”
“They do, but what you’re seeing here is
just the illusion of his physical aura. His name is Edward Sharpe the
Fourth. He was chosen mainly because of his close connection with the
Admiral’s family; he’s married to one of his daughters and just so
happens to adore the hell out of the old man.”
“And your name is...?” Duke asked.
“Vaughn. Look pal,” he said as he turned
his back to the mirror and faced Duke, “Lothos needs you, okay? He wants
you to infiltrate Quantum Leap. I will be there from time to time as Ensign
Sharpe to make contact with you. Lothos tells me that you have some very
influential contacts.”
Duke shrugged his shoulders. “I know a few
people but getting into Quantum Leap is going to be a bit tricky.”
“You have your medical license, don’t
you?” Vaughn asked.
“Yeah but I haven’t practiced in quite a
while.” When he met Vaughn’s unwavering gaze he nodded, “Alright. Tell
Na-Lothos,” he quickly corrected himself, “that I will get in touch with
some people today and get everything set up.”
Vaughn said, “You got it.” He started
towards the door and was about to open it when Duke called to him.
“How will I know it’s you and not this
Ensign Sharpe that I’d be talking to?”
As he stood in the doorway he grinned at Duke.
“Oh, trust me, pal. You’ll know when it’s me.” And with those words,
Vaughn pushed open the screen door and stepped outside, leaving Duke
standing there in a state of shock, concern, and simple, pure amazement.
After all this time, Nate was alive. Well, he quickly corrected himself, not
Nate as a person but some form of him had survived nonetheless. Once more,
even across the infinite recesses of Time, Nathaniel had called for him.
After several moments he then reached into his pocket and pulled out his
cell phone.
Project
Quantum Leap
Office
of Chief Daniel Fulton
June
15, 2008
1:08
AM
“How the hell did you get into this
complex?” Al demanded, towering over the older brother of Project Quantum
Leap’s worst enemy, who was still seated in front of the desk.
Duke chuckled slightly at Al’s question.
“Through the security gates. You see, I have security clearance, thanks to
Doctor Lofton and to you. Otherwise, it would be a little difficult… no, a
lot difficult, actually… to get into this complex. Daniel and Julianna
really did a marvelous job working together to make the security here
tighter than a drum. You should be proud of them. Especially that trick
with…” He raised his cuffed arms and snapped his fingers on his right
hand. “…with that complex-wide electromagnetic scanning to keep
Nathaniel’s leapers out of the complex.” He paused and grimaced
slightly. “It does have that one minor flaw, though. You can’t find
leapers if they leap in before
they come into the complex.” He looked at Al with a slight grin.
“That’s how Nathaniel’s leaper got in the last time, isn’t it?
Leaping into Ensign Sharpe before
he even got into the complex?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and
you know it!” Al berated him, getting into Duke’s face with his own.
“We don’t hire anyone without giving each person a very thorough
background check. There was a complete personal history with Dr. Roy
Bremmer, from the day he was born right to the point where he was hired.
What did you do? Take over his life completely? What did you do with him?”
Duke smirked at the fury in Al’s face. “I
didn’t do anything to Dr. Roy Bremmer. I am Dr. Roy Bremmer.”
“Bullshit!” Al told him emphatically.
“Seriously,” Duke countered. “I’ve been
Dr. Roy Bremmer since 1981. I changed my identity completely, rewrote my
life. Hell, I even went so far as to get a real doctorate in medicine.” He
leaned forward, now being the one getting into Al’s face. “Dr. Lofton
hired me onto Project Quantum Leap fair and square, Admiral. It’s not my
fault that she didn’t know that I was working for Nathaniel.” He paused,
considering. “Of course, I didn’t really offer that information to her
either. But I don’t think that would have gone over well for me during the
interviews for the job.”
Al leveled a harsh glare at the prisoner,
clearly not amused by his calm, almost condescending manner. Seeing that
this line of questioning wasn’t going to get him much further, he changed
tactics. Taking several steps away from Duke, he turned towards him, tucking
his hands into his pockets.
“So you changed your identity in 1981,” Al
started, latching onto that one bit of information that Duke had given him.
“Why? It couldn’t have been to infiltrate Quantum Leap. Even Lothos’
project wasn’t completely functional then.”
Duke leaned back in his chair. “Nathaniel no
longer needed me for my unique services.”
“He didn’t have anyone for you to kill?”
Al asked sarcastically.
Duke’s self-assured smile slowly vanished.
“Every person that I have eliminated was to protect Nathaniel and his
project. Nothing is more important to me than my brother and his legacy. I
am not psychotic.”
“Could have fooled me,” Al told him.
“Personally, I think anyone who would willingly and deliberately poison an
innocent pregnant woman before attempting to do the same to her husband must
be psychotic.”
Duke lowered his eyelids. “I do what I have
to do to protect my brother, Admiral, to protect my own flesh and blood. You
can’t tell me that you wouldn’t do the same for your own family. After
all, wasn’t it you who shot and paralyzed Zoë Malvison to protect your
daughter? Wouldn’t you do anything… anything…
to protect your daughters from harm? That is all I am doing, Admiral.
Protecting my brother from harm.”
“It’s not the same thing and you know
it,” Al countered, again standing over the man. “My daughter would have
died if I hadn’t shot that bitch. That was self-defense!”
“If
your shooting Zoë was self-defense, so is what I did for Nate! Face it,
Admiral! You and I are cut from the same cloth. We’ll both do anything
to get what we want, no matter what that thing may be.”
Duke’s words had hit the wrong nerve in Al,
causing the Admiral’s rage to come to the surface stronger than ever.
Grabbing the prisoner by the collar, he quickly forced the man to his feet,
not even giving him a chance to gain any sense of equilibrium before roughly
forcing him against a nearby wall.
“Don’t you DARE compare me to you!” Al
growled at him. “I’m nothing like you! I don’t hurt innocent people
for a megalomaniac bent on changing history so he can rule the world!”
“Don’t be so self-righteous, Admiral!”
Duke glared into Al’s eyes. “It’s not like you never changed history
for your own good. You’re a hypocrite, Admiral! Hell, from what I’ve
seen, every leap Beckett makes is to help you and him and no one else.
I’ve read the records on his leaps. I know you wouldn’t even have your
wife and children if it weren’t for this project’s interfering with the
natural course of history.” He paused long enough to gauge Al’s thoughts
before continuing, not giving Al a chance to respond. “Who’s to say who
is innocent and who is guilty in our little war, Admiral? There are no
innocents, no guilty… just casualties. Christa and Edward are exactly
that: casualties of our own private war on who has the right to control
time.” He shook his head slightly. “It’s really too bad Christa and
Eddie survived this time around. Things are only going to get worse for them
now, I’m afraid.”
Al had felt the rage building inside of him,
yearning to be released but he had held it back… until then.
“You son of a bitch!” he roared, letting
loose a barrage of punches that were reminiscent of his younger years as
Golden Gloves Champion. His opponent didn’t have a chance to defend
himself with his back against the wall and his hands still handcuffed.
Duke found himself slowly sliding down the
wall, crying out with each punch. However, each time that he started to slip
towards the floor, the enraged father attacking him brought him roughly back
up to his feet to inflict more damage.
Al found himself unable, and unwilling, to stop
beating the handcuffed man in his hands. Suddenly, Duke Lothoman became the
symbol for all that Lothos had done to everyone he loved: Zoë kidnapping
and scarring Christa, Lothos capturing, torturing and branding Sam, Al’s
own torment at the hands of Lothos’ people, Lothos’ leaper poisoning
Christa and causing the death of her unborn child, Lothos torturing Eddie
while his leaper attacked him and Julianna.
“ENOUGH!” Al yelled in fury as he grabbed
the weakened man and turned him around, wrapping his arm around the man’s
neck and tightening his hold. “Enough, damn it!”
“STOP!” a choked plea escaped from the
prisoner’s lips. “Al, stop! Please! Please!”
It wasn’t Duke’s use of his first name, nor
was it the plea for mercy. It was the tone of his voice that caused the
Admiral to stop in his fury-driven attack on the man - that caused Al to
drop his bloodied hands to his side, allowing the prisoner to drop on the
floor gasping for breath.
Al looked down upon the cowering man on the
floor whose hands were raised protectively and whose eyes looked into Al’s
with desperation. For a brief, almost miniscule, moment, it seemed to Al as
if he were looking into the eyes of someone else, someone very dear to him.
“Sam?” Al murmured, taking several steps
away from Duke as he stared, stunned by the sight of his best friend’s
soul in the eyes of his enemy. Without another word spoken, but with a
multitude of questions running through his mind, Al quickly turned and left
the security office, brushing hurriedly past Daniel Fulton, who had just
arrived.
“Admiral,” Daniel called in an attempt to
stop the harried man. “Al! What’s wrong?” he called to his commanding
officer’s back. Not getting an answer, he frowned before stepping into his
office to see Duke Lothoman, bloodied and weak, leaning against the wall of
his office, his eyes closed and tears slowly trickling down his cheeks.
Sensing someone in the room with him, Duke
slowly opened his eyes and looked at the Chief of Security with a hint of
trepidation but also with deep sadness in his eyes.
“I…” he started and then swallowed.
Looking down at himself, he gave a sad chuckle. “I think I need a
doctor.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, exhaling slowly.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
PART
TWO
August 17, 1985
4:52 PM Central European Time (CET )
“NO!” Dr. Sam Beckett felt himself growl
lowly as the quantum effect slipped away. Instantly, he felt as if a
thousand sets of eyes were on him, even though, from the look of it, it
really wasn’t more than five or six. He quickly looked about to see what
kind of situation he had leaped into and found that the only danger around
him was of him becoming more of a spectacle than he cared to be. Smiling
sheepishly, he lowered his head to avoid the stares.
‘Thanks loads,’ he thought with sarcasm to
the force that had landed him in that particular situation. ‘You seem to
take great joy in embarrassing the hell out of me.’ Raising his head
again, he noticed that everyone had gone on with whatever it was they were
doing, causing Sam to question why he would exclaim ‘No!’, especially
in…
‘Where am I?’ he questioned silently as he
looked around. He was first struck with how blue his surroundings were. The
walls were painted with rich cerulean blue that reached all the way up to
the top of the high ceiling, the dome of which was covered with
story-depicting murals. At the front of the room was an intensely ornate
altar with a mural of the Virgin Mary as its centerpiece. Two columns of
pews started a few feet in front of the altar and ended only a few short
feet from the back wall, which was covered with murals depicting some kind
of important story. A brief search in his mind allowed Sam to realize that
the murals were of the life of
“I’m in a church,” Sam murmured under his
breath, just low enough for no one to hear him.
Again, he looked around, finding himself at
ease in the obviously Roman Catholic chapel. Finding a pew, he slowly sat
down and looked up at the Gothic altar. He took several moments to admire
the artistry so clearly and lovingly put into designing the chapel before
looking internally with questioning. Feeling a wallet tucked in his back
pocket, he reached around and carefully removed it. A driver’s license
revealed that his host’s name was Giovanni Pio D’Abrosca and that he
lived in the Italian city of
“I’m in
For some unknown reason, Sam felt drawn to the
young woman, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen years
old, and he found himself standing and going to her. He slowly sat down a
few feet from her, noticing how her concentration seemed to be focused on
the statue of the Virgin Mary. Sam decided to break the silence after a few
seconds of pondering on the teenager and her attentiveness.
“It’s a beautiful church.”
The young woman turned her head towards him,
confusion on her face. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s a beautiful church,” Sam repeated,
smiling slightly to reassure the girl that he didn’t mean harm.
For a moment, she seemed to be thinking about
his statement before replying. “Yes. Yes, it is. I think… I think this
is the one place in
Sam nodded slightly. “Yes. Well… this time
anyway.”
The teenager giggled slightly. “Sounds like
you move around a lot.”
The Leaper chuckled, scratching his temple
nervously. “You could say that, yeah.”
“I’m Angela,” the girl offered her hand.
Sam accepted the hand. “Giovanni.”
“Good to meet you, Giovanni,” Angela told
him with a smile. “Do you mind if I call you John. I mean, it’s the same
name, just in English, not Italian.” She paused sheepishly. “I’m
afraid, when it comes to pronouncing anything in Italian, my words come out
sounding like some Martin Scorsese film. I keep expecting myself to pull out
a Tommy gun.”
Sam laughed gently at her words. “Sure.
John’s fine.”
Angela breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank
you.” She thought for a moment before looking at Sam, tilting her head
slightly. “Umm… you want to go get a cup of coffee? I have a couple of
hours before I have to meet my friend down at St. Francis’. She’s
shopping at the moment and I’m just not into the tourist money traps like
she is. I could use the company at the moment, though.”
Sam scratched his temple subconsciously. “I
don’t know. I mean… you hardly know me and…”
Angela smiled at him. “I trust you. Don’t
know why I do but… I do. And it’s only a cup of coffee in a very public
place. Besides, I came to
Sam grinned at the persistence of the young
lady. “Okay. You convinced me.” ‘Besides,’ Sam thought to him, ‘I
may be here for her.’
“Great!” Angela told him, standing up and
starting out of the pew, encouraging Sam to do the same. “I saw this café
just down the hill that looked really nice. Let’s go there.”
As she started towards exit at the back, she
stopped, turned around, and genuflected reverently, making the Sign of the
Cross, before exiting. Sam watched the action for a moment, getting a sense
of déjà vu at the sight, before he followed her out of the chapel and
towards the café that she had referred to earlier.
Project
Quantum Leap
Office
of Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci
June
15, 2008
1:28
AM
Al sat on the couch in his office, staring at
nothing in particular, lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t consider
himself a violent man and yet he had just come from the security office
after an attempt to kill Duke Lothoman. Perhaps he was in his right to exact
revenge on the man for all that had happened to Eddie and Christa but he
wasn’t sure that all that happened warranted the man’s death. All Al
really knew at that moment was that if Duke hadn’t spoken – if Al
hadn’t seen something in the man’s eyes – Duke would be dead.
He had seen Sam Beckett in Duke’s eyes. He
was absolutely certain about that. And there was no doubt in his mind that
Duke Lothoman had been there, had not been leaped into by the wayward
quantum physicist. The only thing that plagued him was how. How could he see
Sam Beckett’s gentle soul in the eyes of a man who had caused so much pain
in this world? Was it possible, even by the slightly hint of imagination,
that when Sam had leaped into Duke Lothoman several months before he left a
small part of himself behind? The scientist and military officer in Al told
him that it was impossible for such a thing to happen; his faith in God and
in man, however, was telling him that even the worst criminal in the world
could change. Even a Lothoman. He’d seen it before, especially with Alia
Novak. Was it even possible that Alexander Daniel Lothoman, Jr., was
actually a good person under all of his evil deeds?
Al exhaled slowly before rubbing his face and
shaking his head. Maybe he just needed a good night’s sleep for a change.
After all, he hadn’t slept since five o’clock yesterday morning and then
it had only been for a few short hours. But how could he sleep with all that
was running through his mind?
“Daddy?”
The gentle voice broke through his thoughts,
causing him to realize that he hadn’t heard the knock on the door nor the
sound of the door opening. He raised his eyes to look upon his youngest
daughter and gave her a weak smile.
“Hey, babydoll,” he greeted softly. “What
are you doing up so late?”
Christa Sharpe looked at her father with great
concern. Right off the bat, she could tell that something was wrong. Even
with as little sleep as she knew he had had, he looked far too worn out and
he seemed as if he were on another planet, one that she couldn’t step foot
on without being dragged down herself.
“I could ask you the same thing. Dad,
what’s wrong?” she questioned. “I knocked three times and you didn’t
answer, and Ziggy says that you were in some kind of altercation with Dr.
Bremmer.” She looked down at her father’s hands, which rested between
his knees, and saw the blood on them. Gasping with worry, she took his hands
and looked at them carefully. “Are you okay?”
Seeing the worry on his daughter’s face, his
eyes followed hers to his bloodied hands. He swallowed at the memory of what
he had done, shame flooding in as he realized he had actually stooped to
that level.
“I’m fine,” he told her somberly.
“It’s…” He hesitated as he quickly stood and walked towards his
private washroom. “It’s not mine,” he finished quietly as he started
the water running.
Christa followed her father carefully, her
concern for him increasing with every passing moment. “What happened?”
she asked quietly.
Al didn’t answer for a long moment, washing
his hands of the physical blood but not of the deed he had done. “I… I
lost my temper.”
“Must have been one hell of a temper
tantrum,” Christa said softly. “Was it…” She took a breath before
she continued, organizing her thoughts. “Was it Doctor Bremmer?”
A long silence filled the gap between father
and daughter as Al slowly shut off the water and dried his hands on a cotton
towel.
“Bremmer isn’t who he appears to be,” Al
finally told her. “He killed your baby,” he finished in a near whisper
as he gazed upon his youngest daughter’s face, gently cupping her cheek to
comfort her.
Christa gave a short nod. “I know.” Taking
a deep breath, she straightened herself. “The important thing is that you
caught him and he won’t ever hurt anyone ever again.”
“I suppose,” Al murmured, letting Christa
guide him towards the office door.
Opening the door, Christa looked into her
father’s eyes. “I came by to tell you that I was going home to get some
sleep and collect a few things for Eddie. I suggest that you go home and get
some sleep as well. Besides… it’s your birthday and you deserve a
break.” She gave him a gentle smile. “Go home to Mom. You can worry to
your heart’s content tomorrow.”
Al returned the smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” he
told her with a sigh. “I wish it could be that easy.” He paused.
“I’ll tell you what. I promise that I’ll get some sleep upstairs.”
“But…” Seeing the look on Al’s face,
one that told Christa not to push the subject, she relented. “Okay. But if
I find out you lied to me, I’ll sic Mom on you.”
“Now there’s a threat,” Al commented
teasingly, gaining a slap on the arm from Christa. He kissed her cheek.
“G’night, babydoll.”
“Night, Dad,” she returned before she
started towards the elevator.
Al watched Christa step into the elevator
before turning to go back into his office. The visit had been a nice
distraction and, for Christa, had accomplished its mission, namely
convincing Al that he did need some sleep. Walking to the couch, he started
to lay down when a familiar feminine voice filled the room.
“Admiral Calavicci.”
“What, Ziggy?” Al answered, slightly
annoyed by the interruption.
“Doctor Beckett has landed,” the
parallel-hybrid computer informed him. “Doctor Beeks has been informed and
is going to the Waiting Room at this moment.”
Well,
there goes sleep, Al thought as he sat up in the couch. “Do you have a
fix on him?”
“Affirmative, Admiral,”
Ziggy replied. “Doctor Beckett has leaped into the life of Giovanni Pio
D’Abrosca on August 17, 1985 in
the city of
Al frowned slightly, thinking about Ziggy’s
words. “Wait a minute. That sounds familiar.”
“As it should, Admiral. Doctor Beckett has
leaped into Mr. D’Abrosca before. At that time, however, he mysteriously
leaped out of Mr. D’Abrosca and into your younger self.”
Al thought for a long moment before a name
snapped into his memory. “Angela!”
“Indeed, Admiral,” Ziggy confirmed.
“Doctor Beckett has resumed the leap that was previously and mysteriously
interrupted. Might I suggest that you enter the Imaging Chamber post haste?
Doctor Beckett appears to have already made contact with Miss Barrington.
However, I have serious doubts that he remembers what his mission is
concerning her.”
Al stood quickly. “Prep the Imaging Chamber.
I’ll be there shortly.”
August 17, 1985
5:34 PM CET
Sam sat alone at the café table, looking into
his cup of coffee and wondering what he could be there to do. The longer
that he lived in the life of Giovanni D’Abrosca, the more certain he was
that his leap had something to do with Angela but, for the life of him, he
couldn’t figure out what that something was.
Sipping at his coffee, he grimaced slightly.
The coffee had grown a little too cold and was already too strong for his
tastes. It reminded him of his best friend’s coffee which Al had described
as “strong enough to launch the Space Shuttle Enterprise into permanent
orbit”.
“Shuttle fuel?” a gravelly voice
interrupted Sam’s thoughts, causing him to jump slightly. He barely was
able to put the coffee on the table before he could cause it to be the
newest fashion in men’s shirts.
“Al, don’t startle me like that!”
Sam berated under his breath, as he made sure that the coffee
hadn’t stained his clothes.
“Sorry, Sam,” Al told him, stifling a yawn.
“I just noticed the look on your face and inferred that you weren’t fond
of the coffee you were drinking. You used to call my coffee ‘shuttle
fuel’.” He took a drink from the mug in his hand. “You have to admit
it’ll put your aft burners into overdrive.”
Sam finally got a good look at his friend and
partner, frowning with concern at what he was seeing. “Are you okay, Al? I
mean, you look a little…” He trailed off slightly, not sure how to
phrase his words.
“A little what?” Al questioned, an eyebrow
raised.
“Well… a little out of sorts. You look like
you haven’t slept in a couple of days,” Sam commented.
Al thought about Sam’s words for a moment
before giving him a nonchalant shrug, trying to change the subject.
“It’s been a rough day, that’s all. Nothing that I can’t take care
of.” He looked around at his surroundings. “So… where’s Angela?”
“She went to the ladies’ room.” Suddenly
realizing what Al asked, Sam looked at the Observer with surprise. “You
know of Angela?”
“Of course, I do,” Al told him bluntly.
“Angela Barrington, the person you leaped in to save. You leaped into
Giovanni once before to save her but you were yanked out before you could do
anything.”
“Why?” Sam questioned. “I mean… I
don’t remember being here before. At least, I don’t think…” He
hesitated for only a moment before his green eyes brightened. “Wait! I
remember something about… ice cream and… you teaching me Italian.”
“Gelato,” Al corrected.
Sam frowned. “No, I could have sworn it was
Italian.”
Al sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Sam,
it was gelato, not ice cream. Gelato is heavier and a hell of a lot better
than ice cream. Anyway, we aren’t here to discuss the culinary delights of
Italian desserts.”
“What are we here for, Al?” Sam questioned
as he kept an eye out for Angela.
Al raised the handlink and read the information
Ziggy was feeding to it. “Sometime in the next four hours, Angela is going
to disappear off the face of the earth. When you first leaped into Giovanni,
we had practically nothing to go on about what happened to her. Since then,
though, Ziggy’s been researching the incident. Apparently, she was
convinced that you would eventually wind up here again to save her.”
“Well, thank God she was right,” Sam
murmured to himself before looking at his partner. “What did Ziggy find
out?”
Al paused, surprise tingeing his expression.
“She staged it.”
“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in
confusion.
“Angela staged her own disappearance,” Al
clarified. “According to Ziggy, there had been some serious problems going
on at home for Angela. Her father Richard Barrington died in a car accident
when Angela was twelve years old and her mother Patricia couldn’t bear the
loss. Patricia turned to alcohol to drown her sorrows. Turned out she was a
mean drunk too. Ziggy found several police reports of domestic disturbances
at their house, mostly fights between Patricia and Angela over Angela’s
staying out late. And half of those fights resulted in Angela getting a few
nasty bruises.”
Sam shook his head. “I can’t understand any
mother doing that to her own child.”
“Me neither,” Al agreed. “On the plus
side for Angela, she did really well in school and financially. Apparently
her father had a life insurance policy in her name, which paid for this
Italian pilgrimage she’s on. But before she left, she sold everything she
owned except what is up in her hotel room at this very moment.”
“She has nothing to return home for,” Sam
concluded.
Al nodded. “Exactly. She planned this, Sam.
She was just trying to find the right time to pull her disappearing act. And
once she pulled it, she blended into the Italian sunset, never to be heard
from again. At least, not as Angela Barrington.”
“What about her friend?” Sam queried.
“She mentioned meeting her friend at St. Francis’ later today. She
sounded pretty close to her too.” He shook his head. “I can’t see why
she’d just up and disappear on purpose, not with having a friend that
close.”
Al raised the handlink, requesting the needed
information from Ziggy. “That would be… Eliza Montgomery. She and Angela
have been friends since grade school.” He frowned slightly. “And it
looks like she may have actually helped Angela to disappear.” He raised
his eyebrows a fraction. “When you think about it, it makes complete
sense.”
Sam frowned. “How?”
Al gazed into his friend’s eyes. “They’re
teenaged girls, Sam. And sometimes teenagers don’t think with a clear
head, especially when they’re really close to each other. I can’t even
count the number of times Liz and Vickie got into trouble together. They
lied for each other all the time. Now, you take that kind of sorority and
add an abusive parent. Anything is possible with that, even deliberately
staging a disappearance so that one of you could be free.”
Sam shook his head. “I have a hard time
believing that anyone would allow their friend to do something as stupid as
that.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, Sam. And it
certainly isn’t the worst thing that ever happened under similar
situations,” Al told him. “There’s even a case where two teenager
girls murdered one of the girls’ mothers simply because they didn’t want
to be separated from each other. So, if you ask me, planning a disappearance
is the lesser of the evils.”
“I suppose,” Sam agreed. “But it sounds
to me that getting Angela away from her mother was a good thing.”
“Well…” Al hesitated. “In a way it was.
But in another way it wasn’t. When Patricia found out that Angela had
disappeared in
“So, I have to convince Angela that she needs
to go home and work things out with her mother rather than running away from
her,” Sam surmised.
Al nodded. “That about describes it.”
Sam sighed. “Great,” he muttered. Raising
his eyes, he noticed Angela was returning to the table. “How do I do
that?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll think of
something,” Al told him before giving a big yawn. “After this, I better
try to get some sleep or Christa’s going to make good on her threat.”
Seeing Sam’s raised eyebrows, Al clarified, “She threatened to sic Beth
on me.”
Sam gave a soft chuckle at Al’s comment just
as Angela came to the table.
PART
THREE
Project
Quantum Leap
Office
of Chief Daniel Fulton
June
15, 2008
1:32
AM
Duke
Lothoman dabbed at the blood that tainted his mouth, huffing at how it
didn’t seem to want to coagulate despite his best efforts. Now that the
Admiral was away, he found himself thinking more clearly once again. How
could he have pleaded with that bastard before? And where did the
Admiral’s stunned comment come from?
Any
further mental inquiries into the enigma fled his mind as he noticed Nurse
Melissa Henderson walked into the room, a medical tray in her hand. Duke’s
face broke into a slight grin as he watched her place the tray on the desk.
His staring at her had an obvious effect, causing the nurse to turn towards
him and slap him hard across the face.
“What
the hell?!” Duke cried out.
“I’m
here to nurse that shiner,” Melissa told him with a growl. “Not to be
ogled by you, you bastard.” Snatching the washcloth that lay on the tray,
she quickly dampened it and proceeded to roughly clean Duke’s face.
“Hold
it! Wait a minute!” Duke protested at the brutality of her ministrations.
“What happened to your bedside manner, Melissa?”
She
slapped the washcloth on the tray. “You have no right to even speak to me
about bedside manners, Duke Lothoman! She grabbed the antibiotic ointment
and practically ripped the cap off, huffing a self-derogatory laugh. “And
to think that I thought maybe… MAYBE… you might have changed!” She
huffed to herself. “I should have known better! You’ve always been a
coldhearted son of a bitch; you always WILL be a coldhearted son of a
bitch!”
Duke’s
eyes widened as the person he had had a working relationship for the past
few months spouted out a tirade of seeming nonsense, trying to get a grasp
of what she was talking about. Even as he did so, the pieces fell into place
like dominoes.
“Tanya?”
he whispered. His eyes admired the woman in front of him. “Wow! You
look… amazing!”
Melissa
Henderson, formerly known as Tanya Primrose, former Head of Project
Alexander’s BioTech section, gave Duke Lothoman, former lover, a hard
glare. “Do you want me to put ointment on your wounds or what? Personally,
I’d rather see you get an infection in each little cut the Admiral gave
you with his ring.”
Duke
leaned back in the chair. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,
Tanya.”
“My
name is Nurse Henderson to you, Doctor Bremmer,” she emphasized.
Taking a step towards him, she proceeded to run antibiotic into the cuts on
Duke’s face.
Duke
winced slightly at her actions. “I think after all we’ve been through, I
have the right to call you by your real name.” The closeness of her and
the way she reacted when angry brought fond memories to him. “You never
could hold your temper well. It’s what made me love you.”
She
pulled away abruptly at his words. “Love?!”
“Yes,”
he told her bluntly, slowly standing to put his face into hers. “Even
after all these years, I never stopped loving you. We were meant for each
other, Tanya. You can’t deny it.”
Melissa
gazed into Duke’s eyes, hatred filling them. “Any chances of me ever
loving you blew away with the New Mexican winds the minute you tortured that
sweet child Christa. To think that even you would cause a first-time mother
to lose her child… And then you go after her husband?!” She pushed him
hard, causing him to slump back into the chair he’d previously occupied.
“You sicken me! I hate you!” Gathering the medical tray, she turned one
more time towards him. “If you ever come near the Admiral, his family, or
ANY of his friends, you’ll have to answer to me! And you just remember why
your brother hired me in the first place. I may have had compunctions
against harming the innocent but I have NO compunctions about punishing the
guilty.” Turning again, she marched out of the office, passing the guard
on duty without a word.
Duke grinned slightly at her as she left.
“Oh, yes. I’m most definitely still in love with you, Melissa
Henderson… even if you don’t reciprocate.”
August 17, 1985
5:41 PM CET
“Sorry about that, John,” Angela said to Sam as she plopped down into her seat. Picking up her coffee, she took a taste of it and grimaced slightly. “I think we may need a warm up.”
Sam
looked carefully at the young woman in front of her. How was he going to
convince her to return home and make amends with her only parent, especially
with his being a stranger to her? For that matter, why, of all places on
Earth, did Angela choose
“Angela,” Sam spoke up as Angela waved a server to their table. “Why are you here?”
The teenager frowned in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Why
are you here?” Sam repeated. “In
“Good question,” Al commented with a nod. “Why are you here, honey?”
Angela blinked for a moment. “I told you. I’m on a pilgrimage with my church’s youth group. Besides, any chance to get away from that Wicked Witch of the West who calls herself my mother…”
“You’re not going to go back home,” Sam interrupted.
The statement silenced Angela, surprise clear on her face. “How did you know that?”
Sam leaned forward in his chair, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re not going back but you should.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure. Go back to a monster in a skirt who only cares about herself.”
“She’s got a point, Sam,” Al said with a slight nod of agreement.
Sam gave the Observer a glare. “I seriously doubt that,” Sam commented to both Angela and Al.
“You
don’t know her!” Angela emphasized. “I’ve tried! I’ve tried so
hard to get her to stop drinking, to make her understand me! And what did I
get? A broken arm, more cuts than a piece of prime rib, and bruises
resembling the Aurora Borealis! She’s a monster! And I’m never going
back to her!” Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she shook her head.
“Besides, this is where I belong.” She looked around with admiration in
her eyes. “Just to the south is
“And what about your mother?” Sam asked.
“What about her?” Angela countered. “She doesn’t care if I live or die.”
Sam shook his head. “That isn’t true. She loves you.”
Angela gave him a glare. “People who love you don’t beat the hell out of you.”
Al winced slightly at her words. “Sam, if this is your idea of saving Angela’s life, I think we need a better plan.”
Sam didn’t know how to respond to that. While he knew that Angela’s mother did care about her daughter, he also knew that there was little that he could say to convince her otherwise. Sighing, he looked up and was struck by the sight of the Basilica of St. Francis, its white stones reflecting the sunlight as if telling Sam the way to convince the girl. At that same moment, he remembered a prayer that Al had always claimed as his favorite. Looking towards Angela, he started reciting the prayer.
“Lord,
make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”
Angela stared at Sam for a long moment, stunned before speaking. “I love that prayer.”
“Me too,” Al agreed. “It’s beautiful but…”
“But you don’t seem to mean it when you say it if you are willing to abandon your mother when she needs you the most,” Sam said softly, interrupting Al. “Did it occur to you that she’s the one that needs your love, your pardon, your faith? She’s the one who needs light and joy, who needs someone to console her, understand her… love her.” Seeing the pain and fear in the girl’s eyes, he reached out slowly and touched her arm. “If your mother doesn’t know where you are and what has happened to you, don’t you think that that would be too much for her? She’s already lost her husband and she’s lost her ability to cope with loss. What do you think she’ll do if she thought she’d lost her daughter… her only daughter?”
“I…” Angela started. “I never said I was an only child.” She looked at him with a mixture of wonder and fear. “How… how did you know?”
“And I didn’t tell you she was an only child,” Al exclaimed with wide eyes. Seeing the look on Sam’s face, he realized, “Right. Logical deduction based on what I did tell you. Should have figured that out.”
Sam
gave Angela a gentle smile, ignoring Al’s comments. “Let’s just say
that the Lord works in mysterious ways. Besides…” his grin broadened.
“I can’t say I could stay away from my best friend for the rest of my
life. And that’s what it would be, Angela. If you stay here, in
“But…” she started, torn between what Sam was telling her and what her heart was pulling her toward. “I… I can’t return to that house. You have no idea…”
“Then don’t,” Sam told her.
“But… you just said…” Angela and Al invoked simultaneously.
“I told you that you should go home, not that you had to go home to your mother,” he clarified for her. “There are people who need help there just as much as they need help here. Isn’t your mother the one person you know with absolute certainty needs help?”
“I…” Angela started before slowly exhaling. Standing up quickly, she swallowed, straightening her blouse. “I have to go.”
As she started passed, Sam took hold of her hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Don’t abandon those who need you the most, Angela.”
Angela looked at the hand that held her in
place. “Please… let me go,” she whispered.
“You can’t run away from your past,” Sam
warned her.
Raising her eyes to Sam’s, she swallowed.
“I’m not,” she said plainly.
“Yes, she is,” Al corrected.
“Yes… you are,” Sam repeated. Very
gently, he pulled her back, encouraging her to sit again. “You said you
wanted to be a Poor Clare, right?”
“Right,” Al nodded enthusiastically.
“Yeah,” Angela murmured, unsure where this
conversation was going.
“Well… don’t they have convents where you
come from?” Sam pointed out. He leaned forward to gaze into her eyes.
“Even people in your country need help. You don’t have to be near
Al grinned with appreciation. “Oh, that was a
good one, Sam. Definitely going to have to remember that one.”
“But…” Angela started before sighing.
“I have never felt this… energized! I want to help people. I want…”
She stopped, biting her lower lip as she found herself emotionally
overwhelmed. “I love her! Why… why doesn’t she love me?”
Al lowered his head slightly at her desperate
cry.
Sam hesitated, thinking about her question.
“She does,” he finally told her. “I think… I think she’s just lost
right now. And she needs you to find her and bring her back home.”
Angela wiped a couple of tears away before
giving a sad laugh. “I guess this is that turn the other cheek thing,”
she stated. Sniffling, she swallowed tightly before nodding. “You’re
right. I am running away. I… I guess I went a little too far, huh?”
Sam smiled at her words. “
“Yeah,” Angela agreed. Slowly standing up,
she smoothed her blouse. “I think maybe before I decide what to do with my
life, I should let God decide what to do with it. You know… talk to our
pilgrimage chaplain, see what he says.” She took a deep breath. “I
won’t go back to my mother’s house, but at least I can go home.”
Sam stood, gently taking her hands. “I’m
glad,” he told her proudly.
A long silence passed between the two of them
before Sam released Angela’s hands and watched as she started back up the
hill towards the Basilica of St. Francis.
Al’s grin couldn’t have been wider as he
checked the handlink. “You did it, Sam. She continues with the rest of the
pilgrimage and decides to go back to the States. Changes her mind about
being a Poor Clare, though. Instead, she marries a lay missionary and the
two of them started a homeless shelter right in her hometown. As for her
mother…” Al shook his head. “Well, she did get some treatment for
alcoholism but she was in and out of clinics for the rest of her life. Died
of liver failure in 1992.”
Even as Al spoke, the two men saw Angela turn
around and start back down the hill. She stopped within earshot and called
down.
“You know, it’s funny. Here I was praying
for guidance to the Blessed Mother and you just showed up in the church
beside me. You’re right. The Lord does work in mysterious ways!”
Sam raised his eyebrows and turned his head
towards Al, who just rocked in the balls of his feet. “Amen to that, my
friend,” he commented, giving Sam a wave as the physicist vanished in a
streak of blue lightning.
Home of Edward and Christa Sharpe
June 16, 2008
8:09 pm
Ed slowly leaned forward, trying to sit up
but the pain that gripped at his entire being refused to let him perform
even the simplest of tasks. Softly grunting in discomfort, he adjusted the
pillow behind his head, pushing his body up as he leaned back, teeth
gritted. “That’s much
better,” he said to his wife with a genuine smile as he exhaled slowly.
“How are you feeling?” Christa asked as she
gently held Ed’s hand in hers. “Have those headaches gone away?”
Ed licked his dried, cracked lips and then
said, “The headaches are gone but I still feel like shit; my back feels
like it’s on fire, my arms feel all tingly, like they’re asleep or
something, and the rest of me feels like I’ve been run over by a Mac truck
and then drug bare assed naked over barbed wire.”
“It won’t be like this forever. I’m just
real glad that you’re back home and you’re safe.” Christa tearfully
smiled as she reached out and brushed a few strands of hair off of his
dampened forehead. “Everything’s under control now.”
Ed
asked, “Did they catch the son of a bitch that caused all this?”
Christa nodded. “It was one of the doctors
working with
“What is his real name?”
Christa shrugged her shoulders as she replied.
“Don’t know, he didn’t tell me.”
Ed slowly exhaled as he closed his eyes. “I
can still see his face,” he said after a moment as he opened his eyes.
Staring at the ceiling, he said, “I can even remember his name. Vaughn. He
and that insane doctor killed our daughter and nearly me.” Ed swallowed as
he turned his head slightly so that he was facing Christa. For a moment, he
simply gazed into her eyes, as if he were trying to remember something. And
then, his eyes widened in shock as they heavily watered.
“Eddie? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I remember him b-being with you. You and
him…together…”
Christa slowly brought a hand over her mouth.
“I swear…I didn’t know…I-I thought he was you.”
Ed’s eyes then fell on her stomach as she
quietly wept.
Just
as Ed was about to step through the door, Joe called to him. When Ed looked
over at him he said with a grin, “Oh, I almost forgot to congratulate
you.”
Ed furrowed his brow as he tilted his head. “Congratulate me on
what?” When he saw a certain gleam in Joe’s eye, the way he stood there
grinning at him, it didn’t take Ed long to figure out what Joe exactly
meant. “A-are you saying-” Before he could finish talking, Joe stepped
forward.
For Ed, the entire situation was rather
surreal; however knowing that Vaughn had been intimate with Christa
infuriated him to no end. On the one hand, knowing that Christa was again
pregnant had been the best news he’d heard in quite a while. It was their
second chance at having their family. Then again, his recollection of the
past week was rather hazy, and he had no idea just exactly how long Vaughn
had been living his life. “We’ll get through this,” he said to
Christa.
Christa nodded in agreement. “Together. As always.”
PART FOUR
Project
Quantum Leap
June
15, 2008
3:16
AM
Al walked into the security office for the
second time that day. It had been one hell of a day too. With all the ups
and downs, he wasn’t sure if he could handle much more of the roller
coaster ride he was on. He still hadn’t had sleep in almost forty-eight
hours but he looked like he hadn’t slept in a whole week. Nevertheless,
his current physical appearance aside, he could still be a foreboding figure
to anyone who got in his way. And Duke Lothoman had most definitely got in
his way, the evidence of that still showing on his wounded face.
“Admiral,” Duke greeted monotonously as Al
looked upon him. “You look like hell.” A slight smirk covered his face
as he looked upon own of his younger brother’s nemeses.
Al pushed his hands into his trouser pockets,
ignoring Duke’s goading. “I’ve made a decision concerning you,” he
told him bluntly.
“Oh, really? I have to hear this,” Duke
commented, leaning back in the chair he occupied, his hands once again
handcuffed together.
The Admiral looked into Duke’s eyes, knowing
what he would see there, just under the surface. He knew there was a
miniscule sliver of Sam’s soul in those eyes, enough to influence Duke
Lothoman’s actions in the future. Perhaps… just perhaps… the older
brother of Nathaniel Lothoman really could be saved.
“I should kill you right here and now for all
that you have done,” the seasoned Navy retiree proclaimed. “But there is
a difference between you and me, Lothoman, despite what you may think. And
that difference is compassion. I’m not going to kill you.”
“Then you are a coward, Admiral,” Duke
announced with confidence.
“What I am going to do,” Al continued,
again ignoring the latter’s attempts to rattle him, “is lock you up in
the deepest, darkest, dingiest place I can find and leave you there alone
for the rest of your life. And maybe… MAYBE… if you are really good…
you might see the Sun before you die of old age.” He noticed the look in
Duke’s eyes and took a step towards him, knowing that the man before him
was afraid of the possibility of never seeing the Sun again. “I know there
is some of Sam Beckett in you, Lothoman, and I know that you can turn your
life around if you really want to. But until you can prove it to me that you
honestly do want to reform, which I doubt your pride will let you do, I’m
going to make sure you never hurt anyone ever again.”
The Admiral and the Doctor looked deeply into
each other’s eyes, each one gauging the other’s souls. Finally, it was
Duke who broke his gaze, swallowing slightly as he did so.
“Well… I stand corrected, Admiral,” he
said in a low tone. “You’re not a coward. You’re a sadist. To sentence
a man to loneliness for the rest of his life… you’re condemning me to a
fate worse than death.”
Al shook his head, negating the latter’s
statement. “Believe me, there are worst things than being alone.”
“Not much worse, I would imagine,” Duke
replied.
The room was quiet for a long moment before Al
started for the door.
“Admiral,” Duke interrupted his actions,
causing the veteran to turn to face him. “My brother is dead. And now I
don’t even have my freedom. And I have you and Beckett to thank for that.
If I ever see you again… I will kill you. That’s a promise.”
Al shook his head slightly. “I don’t think
you will, Lothoman, even if you do see me again.” He paused for only a
moment, letting his prisoner consider his words. “You’ll be transferred
late tonight to the secure facility under guard.” Without another word, he
left the security office, leaving the evils of Duke Lothoman with the
prisoner.
Just maybe this would turn out to be a good
birthday after all.
I-70,
Between Socorro and Albuquerque
June 15, 2008
4:08
am
The SUV sped down the desolate stretch of
highway in the
A
slight frown formed on his face as he saw the vehicle speed past the exit
that they were supposed to take. “Hey, pal, watch the damn road, will ya?”
Tilting back his head he added, “You missed the exit.” The driver, a
young man in either his late twenties or early thirties, said nothing.
“Where are we going?”
No
reply.
“God
damn it, answer me!” Alexander, also known as Duke, grew tense. After
several moments passed in silence, Duke was well beyond pissed. One thing
was damn certain and that was nobody ignored Duke Lothoman. Nobody.
“Listen, junior, if you don’t answer me--”
“Enough,”
replied the driver coolly. He reached out and adjusted the rear view mirror,
keeping one eye on the prisoner. Even though he didn’t let it show the old
man unnerved the hell out of him. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the
ride.”
“What
is going on here?” Duke asked again.
“I’m
not at liberty to answer your questions.”
“Like
hell you’re not. I know enough to figure out that you’re not working for
Calavicci or anybody else at Quantum Leap. Now, what I don’t know is who
you are working for.”
Once
more no reply came from the driver.
“Great.”
Duke leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
About
another hour and a half had passed before the driver slowed the SUV and
pulled off of the road and onto the shoulder. He calmly unbuckled his seat
belt, opened the door, and stepped out. Duke’s eyes never left the driver
as he walked over and opened the side door and leaned his upper body in.
Duke pressed his back against the seat as the driver slipped a hand into his
coat pocket and produced a small silver key. He started to unlock Duke’s
handcuffs and, when the cuffs clattered to the floor, he knelt down and
started unlocking his ankle shackles.
“What’s
this?” Duke questioned as the driver removed the shackles.
The
driver didn’t respond until Duke had stepped out. He then gestured towards
the SUV. “Go on. Don’t be late.”
If
he wasn’t before, he was now completely at a loss. “Late? Late for what?
Just what the hell is going on here?”
“Don’t
ask, just do as your instructed, Lothoman.” The driver stepped past the
befuddled prisoner, walking down the lonely highway. “Just stay on the
70,” he called out over his shoulder.
“Hey.”
Duke took a half step towards the younger man. The younger man just kept
walking. Quickly sweeping his gaze across the blackened and barren desert he
turned around and slammed the side door shut. He sat down in the driver
seat, shutting the door and putting on his seat belt. He took a moment to
try and wrap his mind around what had just happened. One moment he was on
his way to the state prison and the next he was set free, his escort
vanishing into the night like some ghost. “Stay on the 70, huh?” Duke
pulled on the column shift, the small orange needle stopping just over the
D. He steered the SUV back onto the highway, the vehicle quickly climbing in
speed. At this point he could only pray that the highway patrol weren’t
out.
About
ten minutes into the drive, Duke saw two small circles of light appear
around the turn in the road, which was about a quarter mile ahead of him.
Appearing around the turn was an eighteen wheeler. As the two vehicles grew
closer to each other a physical change came over Duke. His entire person was
engulfed in red light, thin streaks of light shooting outward. Then, in the
blink of an eye, another person sat behind the wheel. This person was
considerably younger, with wavy red hair, brown eyes, and of medium build.
He adjusted the rear view mirror and smirked when he saw Duke’s eyes stare
back at him. About another ten seconds passed when the Leaper suddenly
jerked the wheel to the left, sending the SUV darting across the highway.
The
driver of the Freightliner, who was heavily impaired as it was, hadn’t had
much rest in the past seventy two hours. His reddened eyes would slowly
close only to flash open seconds later. After the fourth time doing so, his
eyes flashed open onto a sleek red SUV barreling straight towards him.
“Shit!” the driver yelled as he instinctively slammed on the brakes.
However by doing so, he locked up the wheels, his trailer jackknifing
wildly, and within moments the SUV connected with the Freightliner. Needless
to say, the Freightliner barely took any damage while the SUV was beyond
totaled. Upon impact the front end of the SUV crumpled and spun off the
highway, sending up heavy clouds of dust as it flipped over on to its side.
The heart stopping sounds of glass shattering and the rending of metal
filled the otherwise quiet desert. Fragments of metal, glass, and plastic
flew from the SUV, littering the desert floor in a chaotic mess.
The
driver of the Freightliner emerged from the truck and ran over to the
totaled SUV. He was about fifty feet away when the upturned SUV suddenly
burst into flame; the desert briefly bathed in a pale orange glow as acrid
smoke billowed from the wreck. The faint aroma of gasoline hung in the air,
intermingled with the smoke. “Damn,” the driver breathed in utter
disbelief as he stood there, watching the fire consume the remains of the
SUV.
Project
Alexander –
Sometime
in the Year 2021
Although his mind was full of holes he knew
where he had been taken to. More importantly, he knew who had brought him
there. He stood in the vast red room that provided nothing but a slender
examining table with a reflective surface. It reminded him strongly of the
Waiting Room back at Quantum Leap. Slowly he went over to the table and
leaned over it, getting a good look at the face that stared back at him. He
didn’t recognize the red haired man in the mirror but something that he
hadn’t anticipated occurred. After about a moment or two of looking at his
reflection the image began to warp and shimmer, sort of like light
reflecting off of rippling water. He didn’t feel anything physical but
after the extraordinary occurrence Duke was left staring at his own face. He
pushed himself back from the table, wildly looking around the room. “Show
yourself!” he barked. “I know you’re watching this!” Just then the
heavy hydraulic door slid upward, and with it came light just bright enough
to cause Duke to squint.
“Lothos
wishes to speak to you,” said one of the two tall men that stood in the
doorway.
Duke
said nothing as he crossed the Holding Chamber and followed the two men down
a featureless corridor and into an elevator. The elevator’s door slid open
onto another room that was nearly identical to the Control Room at Quantum
Leap. In the center of the sterile room was a control console. The room
itself really didn’t have any other features to offer, well if you
didn’t count the glowing, swirling red orb that was suspended above the
control console. Duke glanced around and saw only four others present, one
in particular striking a familiar cord with Duke. The young brown haired
man, clad in a leather jacket, smirked at him. It was that very smirk that
gave Duke his identity.
“Vaughn
Rickar,” Duke said with a slightly amused look on his face.
“Doctor
Lothoman,” Vaughn replied evenly as he leaned against the control console.
Duke
didn’t bother to ask who anybody else was as his attention turned to the
red orb. “Long time, no see, little brother.” As soon as he spoke the
word ‘brother’ he noticed for the first time the bitterness that it had
left in his mouth, which had surprised the hell out of him. While he knew
that this artificial construct was in fact not his kid brother, he knew that
some part of Nate was left behind in Lothos. It was that part that Duke
hoped to reach.
“The
one you knew as Nathaniel Lothoman,” spoke the quasi-living hybrid
computer in a tone that vaguely sounded like Nate’s, “is dead, and has
been for years. I’m now in his stead. You shall address me as Lothos.”
While
he knew that most of the others that worked for him cowered before him, Duke
barely seem phased. While things may have changed significantly over the
years, some things just remained the same. “Fine, have it your
way…Lothos.” Duke tugged at the collar of the skin tight black body suit
with a frown. “Couldn’t you have brought me here in something a bit more
comfortable?”
“Adequate
attire shall be given to you momentarily. For now, I must discuss something
with you of utmost importance.” Unbeknownst to everyone in Central
Control, two discreetly placed cameras focused on Project Alexander’s
current guest. “I wish to speak to Doctor Lothoman alone,” Lothos told
the others. “Leave us at once.”
“Of
course, my lord,” replied one of the men who had escorted Duke out of the
Holding Chamber.
Vaughn
said nothing as he pushed himself up and walked past Duke. It was at that
brief moment that Duke noticed something familiar in the young man’s eyes.
It was the intensity, no doubt, but yet he couldn’t quite put his finger
on it. It was almost as if that one moment had slowed significantly.
Lothos
didn’t speak a word until everyone had left the room. “There is a
certain matter that I need to speak to you about,” he told Duke. “You
failed to kill Ensign Edward Sharpe. You allowed him to live; you had the
perfect opportunity and you let it slip through your fingers.”
“Bullshit,”
Duke replied deadpan, trying his best to keep his anger at bay. “How the
hell was I supposed to know the kid would suddenly awake from a coma? I
checked his vitals; he was just as good as dead. Nearly all brain activity
had ceased.” Duke ran a hand over his head as he briefly looked away.
“The Admiral was out for blood, okay? Ever since they discovered Vaughn
they upped Quantum Leap’s security. That’s why I stopped producing
batches of the toxin.”
One
of Lothos’s cameras had zoomed in on Duke’s face. The part of Lothos
that was still Nathaniel felt the brotherly bond that had been forged ever
since Duke had murdered his own father in cold blood back when Nathaniel was
a child. Nathaniel had always respected Duke to a high degree but the
brothers also knew their place; there was always a line that was never to be
crossed. Lothos felt that exact same respect for Duke, although his failure
spoke just as loudly. “Granted, Admiral Calavicci made things difficult
for you, Doctor, but I requested your services because Nathaniel trusted you
impeccably. He was confident enough in your abilities but you have truly yet
to show me—”
Duke
stepped forward and pointed a finger at the orb. “Hold it right there,
alright? I did what you initially instructed me to do; I struck at Calavicci
where it’d hurt him the most. I murdered his goddamn grandchild and
poisoned his daughter. I had Beckett’s Project running around in circles
while I had your little helper monkey, Vaughn, pump Christa Sharpe full of
that toxin. Without me, Lothos, your Leapers wouldn’t have gotten nearly
as far and you know that.”
Lothos
was silent for a moment. “That is true,” he reluctantly replied, “to a
degree. On the one hand, you were rather instrumental in the attack against
Calavicci and his family. However, you failed to kill Ensign Sharpe and got
captured by the Admiral himself. Perhaps,” Lothos added, “I expected too
much from you. Maybe your age is catching up to you.”
“Screw
you,” Duke spat. No sooner had Duke cursed Lothos did a brief but strong
electrical shock drop the elder Lothoman to the floor.
The
part of Lothos that was Nathaniel had felt a twinge of remorse for striking
at Duke, but, like all others, he would learn very quickly to speak out
against him. “Let that be a warning to you.” The computer watched as
Duke slowly stood back on his feet.
“Y-Yeah?”
Duke sputtered just before breaking out into a brief fit of coughing.
“Well I got one for you; don’t ever pull that shit on me again. You may
have complete control of this place,” he told Lothos, “but you’re
forgetting just who the hell created you. I know my brother and he would
never have been as stupid as to stand against me. For years I watched over
him, protected him against those who opposed him. He may have been the
genius of the family but it was I who practically raised him.” By this
point the rage was coursing through his veins white hot. The longer he felt
the rage, the more he came to understand that perhaps a large portion of it
had been directed at Nathaniel himself. For years, Duke willingly sacrificed
what little he had in order to help Nathaniel succeed. And now, this
artificial construct, a mere shadow of Nathaniel’s former self, was trying
to seize control over him. “You listen to me, Lothos. I know that
there’s still a small part of Nate in there; he knows what I’m truly
capable of.”
“Yes,”
Lothos said not a moment later, “I do know what you’re truly capable of,
Alexander. That is why I brought you here; you’re services are still
needed. Granted,” the computer added, “you shall be monitored at all
times like the others, but if you play your cards right, I just might grant
you special privileges.”
Duke
had heard enough. “You can take that concept and shove it straight up that
electronic ass of yours. No way in hell am I going to let you turn me into
one of those drones.”
“You
really don’t have much of a choice in the matter. You see, not only had
your true identity been revealed but according to the outside world,
Alexander Lothoman died in a fiery automobile accident twelve years ago. You
have nowhere else to go.”
Duke
took a step back, his eyes falling from the orb. “There’s no way that
Nathaniel would have let it get this far out of hand. There’s no way,”
he said with such sudden intensity as he looked back up at the orb, “that
Nathaniel would try this dictator shit on me. He trusted me and I trusted
him…for the most part.” Duke felt as if he were somewhat getting through
to Lothos but he also knew that he had to watch his step. Lothos had
complete control of this Project. “There was always a fine line,” he
explained to the computer, “and both Nate and I knew to never cross that
line. I was there for him whenever I was needed, and in turn I knew that
what I was doing would only benefit Nate. He had so much potential; he was
the one who would make the name Lothoman really mean something.”
If
Lothos could smile he no doubt would have been at that point. “Indeed,
Nathaniel did make the name Lothoman mean something. Just look at what all
he’s accomplished.”
Duke knew that Lothos was right; he had nowhere else to go. Even though to the outside world he was dead, he knew that otherwise he’d be a wanted man for the remainder of his years. No place would be safe. After nearly thirty years of leading his own life, he was right back where he’d started. He had come full circle. But, this time around, things were different. A lot different. Not only was his kid brother gone but in his place was a machine, a construct, a construct that ruled supreme over anything and everything in this complex. And, no matter how hard he fought it, no matter how hard he resisted, Duke knew that he had now become the property of this construct. And maybe, just maybe, that was a fate worse than death.