VIRTUAL SEASONS EPISODES |
Episode 608 |
December 17, 1953 Outside New York City, New York Sam leaps into Janeen Perry, a psychiatric nurse in a New York county mental hospital. he discovers that he's there to save the life of Janeen's neighbor, Emma, from an apartment fire. As a major snowstorm moves towards Sam, Dr. Beeks has begun to worry about Al's ability to function under difficult personal circumstances. Both the approaching storm and Al's situation put the Project and Emma at risk. |
Written By: |
Written By: A. J. Burfield |
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PRELUDE December
17, 1953 Outside
New York City, New York The
moans are what he noticed first, before his vision cleared of the blue
haze. Quantum leaping was like riding a runaway roller coaster sometimes;
the last drop took his senses to the max and sometimes made him gasp in
surprise as they trickled back to normalcy. Dr. Beckett dared not move
until he located the noise, because even when his vision cleared he was
caught off balance by his surroundings. He
was looking down at part of a white floor and white shoes that seemed to
be on his own feet. Stealing sideways glances before looking up he saw an
endless white hallway, the floor shiny with use. Finally daring to look up
all the way, he saw sterile white walls that had yellowed slightly with
age. There was a handrail that ran the length of the hall, interrupted
only by the many doorways. Each door had a small window and each window
was re-enforced with chicken wire. At one end of the hall Sam saw a
pajama-clad person slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall. The
moans weren’t coming from that direction. Raising
his head fully, he squared his shoulders and discovered that he was
holding some books under one arm, a cup of water in the other hand, and
standing in the middle of the hall. ‘Where
was I going?’ He thought to himself, ‘And
where is that noise coming from?’ The
institutionalized feel of the place instantly set the hairs on the back of
his neck on edge. He looked more closely at his clothing and realized it
was a white uniform. A nurse’s uniform. A female nurse’s uniform.
‘At least she has sensible shoes,’ he thought brightly. Turning around
in a circle to see his surroundings in their entirety, he felt his heart
beat faster realizing he was in a hospital of some sort and the nurses’
station was right behind him. Another nurse was scratching away on a
medical chart, a dated cap on her head, and Sam watched as she angrily
snapped on the radio next to her in an attempt to drown out the moaning
noise. "How
much is that doggy in the window? The
one with the waggly tail? How
much is that doggy in the window? I
do hope that he is for sale!" The
nurse started singing quietly to the familiar song, but the moaning could
still be heard in the background. This place and time had an ‘old’
feel to Sam, and the addition of the nonsensical song added to the aura.
In a slight daze, Sam found himself drifting down the hall, following the
rise and fall of the mournful wail. When he reached a set of double doors
at the end of the hallway, he took a deep breath and pushed them open with
his hip. The
moaning was much louder in here and Sam stood stock still, surveying the
large room and its occupants. He felt his mouth sag open. "Oh,
boy," he whispered to himself. "I’m in the Cuckoo’s
Nest." PART
ONE I
felt like I’d been here before. The faces were different, but the place
felt the same as … as what? Because of my Swiss cheesed memory I would
probably never remember the details of a similar place I’d been to in a
previous leap. Or maybe it was the holiday setting that was striking a
chord. I guess there were worse places to be for Christmas. Although at
this moment I couldn’t name one more depressing.
The
room was sparsely decorated for Christmas with worn garlands that barely
glittered, and a tiny tree with a few ornaments. Christmas music played
softly in the background, drowned out by the wailing woman rocking back
and forth in a rickety wheel chair next to the far wall. Sam had been
standing in the doorway for just a fleeting moment when he heard a voice
speaking loudly over the wailing of the old woman in the wheelchair. "Janeen!"
It said, "Hey, Janeen! Nurse Perry! Hey!" Sam’s
head rotated around trying to find the voice with the feeling they were
calling him. He finally looked down at his nametag, which said ‘Nurse
Perry, Edgemoor County Mental Hospital’. He
spun around, and finally found the speaker glaring at him and struggling
with a white robed patient into the day room doorway. "Um, yes?"
he said, not moving. "Help
me here, will ya, for Heaven’s sake?" The smaller nurse was doing
all she could to keep the patient on his feet and moving into the room. "Sure,
yeah," Sam sputtered, putting the books and cup down on a nearby
cabinet. He took the other arm of the young man who appeared to be heavily
sedated. "Wouldn’t a wheelchair be easier?" he grunted after
half dragging the man to a chair. The
other nurse let out a grunt as she dropped the man in the chair.
"Ha!" the nurse laughed. "Like we have a lot of those
sitting around." She straightened her cap. "Thanks, Janeen. Want
me to take those for you? You’re overdue for a break." She
indicated the cup and books. Since
Sam had no idea where they were to go, he nodded. "Thanks," he
said. The man they had dropped in the chair simply stared out the distant
window, unresponsive, so Sam backed out the doorway to the hall as ‘Oh
Come, All Ye Faithful’ floated in the air. Suddenly, he felt suffocated.
He needed to get some fresh air. Looking around briefly, he found an exit
door with a wide set of stairs that led outside to the front parking lot.
There was a bench off to one side of the lot, and Sam headed there,
shivering. The sweater he wore wasn’t quite enough for this weather;
there was about a foot of old snow off on either side of the walkway. He
decided if Al didn’t show up in a minute or so he would have to go back
inside. When he reached the bench he decided it was too cold to sit, so he
stood, stomping his feet and rubbing his hands together. It
was like he rubbed a genie’s bottle, because the sound of the Imaging
Room door greeted him instantly. He turned to the noise and saw his friend
and Observer, Admiral Albert Calavicci, retired, step through the bright
opening. He was moving cautiously, which struck Sam as odd. Al looked
carefully around before stopping his gaze at Sam. His face was neutral. "Where
am I, Al?" Sam said, his breath coming out as puffs of steam.
"It’s freezing, and I need to get back inside." "OK,
then, start walkin’, because I don’t have much." Al hunched his
shoulders and flipped his collar up as he fell in stride next to Sam. He
jammed his hands in his pockets. "Your name is Janeen Perry and
you’re a nurse for County Mental Health. It’s December 17, 1953.
You’re just outside of New York City, in the County area. Ziggy
doesn’t know why you’re here yet." Al’s voice was flat and
unanimated. His clothing was even somber for him, made up of dark greens
and gray. Sam
turned his head slightly and studied his friend for an instant as they
walked. His gut instinct was telling him that something was wrong.
"Is there anything else I need to know? Should I know this
place?" he asked, frowning, searching his Swiss cheesed memory
without results. Al
answered almost instantly. "We really don’t know at this point.
Some of the records of this place were lost in a fire in early ’58, so
Ziggy’s having a hard time with patient and employee information. She
has to go through the County records, which are a mess." Sam
was back at the door again, and reached for the doorknob. Al stopped, and
took out the handlink, instantly summoning the Imaging Room door. Sam
opened his mouth to protest his quick exit, but Al was through the opening
before he could utter a complaint. "I’ll
get back to you when we have more information, Sam. Meanwhile, check the
nurse’s station for your shift times." The rectangle of light
disappeared, leaving Sam standing there with his hand on the door and his
mouth hanging open. ‘What
was that all about?’ He thought, giving the door a tug. The building
was nice and warm compared to the outside and Sam headed for the nurse’s
station, hoping for something hot to drink and to locate the schedule.
Sure, this place was depressing, but that was no excuse for his friend to
ditch him like that. He made a mental note have him explain his actions
when he saw him next. Sam
wandered through a door behind the nurses’ station desk that led to a
break room and hot coffee. The schedule was posted on a bulletin board,
and Sam noted happily that Janeen Perry was off duty at 3:00, which was
only two hours away. He casually checked the small lockers in the break
room and found Janeen’s. Thank God there wasn’t a padlock on it. The
next two hours actually went rather quickly. Sam kept busy helping other
nurses when they called, so he didn’t really figure out if he had
regular duties or not. He was running around controlling situations, but
never seemed to get the upper hand on any one thing. It was perpetual
motion, and he admired the nurses for the job they did. About
2:40 Sam noticed an influx of nurses heading to the break room. He
reasoned it was the next shift briefing for their rounds. He was standing
at the nurses’ station, shifting his tired feet and rubbing his back,
when a matronly nurse stepped up next to him and started flipping through
charts. "Aren’t
you supposed to be in with Dr. Beech doing meds?" she stated
pointedly. "Oh,"
Sam replied, surprised. "Yeah. I forgot." He started to leave
the station for the exam room he’d seen earlier when the nurse spoke
again. "Are
you staying over tonight, Janeen? Next shift is short again," she
sighed and shook her head slowly while reading a chart. "I don’t
think I’d know what we’d do with a full shift. I haven’t seen one in
so long." Sam
stopped short. "I wasn’t planning on staying," he said slowly.
"I have, uh, something I have to do after work." The
nurse looked up surprised. "I never thought I’d live to see the
day! Janeen Perry turning down overtime!" The woman chuckled.
"It’s OK, don’t worry about it. They’ll survive. It’s not
like you haven’t done your share." She initialed a chart, flipped
it shut and went to the next one. "Dr. Beech will be here for a
couple of hours and can distribute sedatives to ease the load." Sam
tried not to look appalled. "Yeah," he replied, keeping his
voice neutral as he walked to the exam room. A Doctor sedating a patient
to keep the nurses’ workload down? That
went against all the training he’d had in med school, and it disturbed
him. He’d seen all sorts of mental illness here today. In his time, most
of these patients could function at home on medications, or live in group
homes, but none of that was available in this time. It was difficult to
get used to. There were Down’s Syndrome patients mixed in with bi-polar
and paranoid-schizophrenics, and some Sam suspected were drug addicts or
alcoholics suffering from withdrawals. They were all clumped together and
labeled ‘crazies’ and dumped in an inadequate, understaffed County
hospital. He knew he was here to change something, and a lot needed
changing, but nothing alerted his instincts yet. His gut feeling hadn’t
been triggered about anyone he’d met yet and he was starting to wonder
if there was a point to him being here at all. And where was Al? When
Sam rounded the last corner to the exam room he saw a short line extending
out the door into the hall. He stepped in the room and saw a harried man
in a Doctor’s coat trying to move the line into the hall. "It’s
about time, Nurse!" he snapped. "Get these people out of this
room and close the door!" Sam
did as he was told as he apologized for being late. The door had a sliding
window in it where the medicines were dispensed. It was a lot easier
keeping the crowd outside, but Sam was reluctant to be shut in the room
with this man. He had an uneasy feeling about him that he couldn’t
pinpoint, and Sam blamed the feeling on Janeen’s residual thoughts. He
had to check the wristband of each patient while Dr. Beech found the
chart, checked the doses, and issued his orders. Sam’s job was then to
find the medicines and dispense them. It was difficult to hold his tongue
on some of the orders, and he had to keep reminding himself that most of
the drugs he would prescribe weren’t even invented yet. It
was well past his quitting time by the time he got the meds set up for the
room bound patients. There were more sedatives here than Sam liked to see,
but there was nothing he could really do about it. He and Dr. Beech got in
a comfortable rhythm and Sam actually got to like his manner. He was just
as over worked as the nurses, he discovered, and donated a lot of his time
to the facility and patients. He rotated his time here with two other
Doctors, and none of them had too much one on one contact with the
patients due to understaffing. After
sending the trays loaded with medicines off to the next shift nurses, both
Sam and Dr. Beech collapsed on chairs in the exam room. "Well,"
Dr. Beech sighed. "That was more of a fiasco than normal. What
happened? You usually have everything ready to go before I get here. Bad
day?" ‘If
you only knew,’ Sam thought immediately. "It got a little busy,
and I lost track of time," he offered verbally. "Sorry." "The
holidays always get that way," he said, reaching over and patting
Sam’s hand. "And this is only the beginning! The next two weeks
will be worse. The patients know something’s going on so tension
increases. They are quite perceptive." He rubbed his forehead. Sam
quietly slipped his hand into his lap so the Doctor wouldn’t pat it
again. "I’m scheduled to work Christmas Eve. The Curse of the
Single Doctor!" He laughed a pleasant laugh, leaned foreword and
patted Sam’s knee. Sam stood up abruptly, alarmed and perplexed. Sam
didn’t like what his instinct was telling him. The last thing he wanted
was to be involved in a romantic situation; being the man in that sort of
situation was uncomfortable enough, but being the woman was really bad. He
was sure he must have been in a similar situation before, but he
couldn’t recall any details and didn’t really care to recall them. For
once he appreciated his Swiss cheese memory. He inched his way to the
door. "Maybe
we’ll be spending Christmas Eve together." He smiled warmly at Sam.
"Well, Janeen, how about the Beefeater for dinner tonight? I’ll
meet you there. And maybe something to drink to warm our bones!" Dr.
Beech stood up, stretched, and turned towards Sam. Sam
fought to control his panic as he grabbed for the doorknob, his hand
sliding off the shiny surface. Dr. Beech was right next to him, slipping
his arm around Sam’s waist. Sam closed his eyes and clenched his teeth,
preparing for the worst. Dr. Beech simply grabbed the doorknob.
"Here," he said. "Let me get that for you." He opened
the door and stood aside, allowing Sam to pass. Sam
let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. "Thanks," he
blurted, scurrying out to the hall. "And I think I’ll just go
home." He started rubbing his back and looking pitiful. "My back
is killing me. Maybe some other time?" He tried to make the smile
look sincere. Dr.
Beech looked surprised then disappointed. "OK, then," he said
with a small, perplexed wave. "See you soon, Janeen." Sam
waved back as the Doctor retreated down the hall. "OK, uh...
Doctor?" He realized he didn’t know the man’s first name. Sam
hoped he didn’t mess up something for the real Janeen. One of the
hazards of leaping, he thought. It
was past 4:00 before he actually got out of there. He got funny looks as
he left, and receiving the impression that it was unusual for Janeen to
leave work so early. He made his way down the icy stairs, holding his
jacket hood closed around his face against the freezing wind. He had dug
car keys out of Janeen’s purse, and was cursing Al for leaving him in a
lurch. How was he to know which car was Janeen’s? Maybe her car wasn’t
even here! His thoughts became focused on nasty comments for Al when he
heard the Imaging Room door open. As Sam jerked his head around to glare
at his Observer, he slipped on the icy sidewalk and landed painfully on
his rear. "You
gotta be careful, Sam. It’s icy," Al offered lightly. "You
OK?" "No
thanks to you! Where have you been?" Sam struggled to his feet, the
snug dress and his anger making it almost impossible. "Where’s my
car, Al? I’m freezing!" "Jeeze,
Sam, no need to bite my head off," he replied shortly. Al tapped on
the hand link as he chewed on an unlit cigar. "It’s the black one,
over there." He pointed to the north end of the lot. Annoyed,
Sam brushed off the ice and snow from his legs angrily. He wanted to pace
and yell, but knew either one was inadvisable. He wanted to grab and shake
the hologram of his friend, but he knew that was impossible. The only
thing he could do was glare at him. "They’re
all black," he growled between clenched teeth. Al
took a step back. "Boy, if looks could kill they’d be diggin’ my
grave!" He replied grumpily. He glanced around as if he was surprised
to see what was around him. "Oh, yeah! So they are! Boy, was this a
boring era for color choice. Come on, hers is over here. The Ford."
Al pointed to a car just a few feet away. That was when Sam noticed Al’s
attire. "Bermuda
shorts? In December? And are those pineapples on your shirt? What’s
going on? A luau??" Sam stomped to the plain, black car and fumbled
with the key before he realized that the car was unlocked. He yanked the
door open and crawled inside, the seat cold against the back of his knees.
He exhaled sharply at the shock of the cold seat on his nearly bare legs. Al
drifted to the seat next to Sam. "You forget that the temperature is
controlled where I am," he explained with a patient sigh. "Yes,
it’s freezing cold outside, but Ziggy has taken control of the
thermostat. She claims she’s conserving energy." Sam
shook his head as he fought to start the stubborn engine. "You’re
14 stories underground. The temperature shouldn’t vary that much due to
the insulation from the ground! She can’t be conserving that much
energy!" "That’s
not what I meant," Al replied, watching Sam struggle with the car.
"She’s conserving energy of the staff. They argue over the
thermostat." Sam
looked at him, incredulous. Al
continued, not noticing. "Tina says it’s too cold, Gooshie says
it’s too hot, Beeks changes sides daily, no, hourly. You think a shrink
could make a decision." Al lit the cigar, then met Sam’s eyes.
"What?" He shrugged. "I don’t get involved! Hey, I think
you flooded it." "Huh?"
Sam realized what he was referring to. "I did not!" He twisted
the key again, and the motor finally caught. Sam gave Al a smug look and
wrapped his arms around himself as he let the engine warm up. Al shrugged.
Sam then turned his eyes to his Hawaiian decked Observer. "Can you
please tell me where I live? And how to get there? I’m not wild about
driving in this weather, and I’m freezing. Be helpful for once on this
leap!" Al
snorted. "OK, OK. Hang on a sec." He adroitly hung on to the
burning cigar as he pulled out the handlink and started tapping away.
"I had it here before. Oh, here we go." The
hologram guided Sam out of the lot, down the long, windy driveway to the
main road. It was actually a nice drive. The two-lane roadway was
practically empty and very pretty. The lanes curved gently back and forth
between clumps of trees and open meadows, and after awhile, ran through a
small business district. Sam followed Al’s directions past the
businesses and entered a housing area. "This
is a suburb of New York called Medfield. There’s a small apartment
building just off the main drive here, on a street called Maple. Isn’t
that quaint?" Al pointed out the turn, sounding almost cynical. "So,
how is the real Janeen doing? Is she any help?" Sam quizzed as he
turned onto the street and looked for the address Al had given. Sam
noticed that Al was studying something out of his window and did not hear
the question. "Al? Hey!" Al
jumped slightly, then turned apologetically to his friend. "What?
Sorry, I was looking around. What’d you say?" Sam
narrowed his eyes. Something was up, but he wasn’t getting into it here.
He wanted to get inside and thaw, so he slowly repeated his question about
the visitor. "She’s
very calm appearing, but her pulse rate gives her away." Al said,
sounding rather mechanical. "Beeks thinks she’s avoiding a
tranquilizer by behaving her self. Nurses know all those tactics."
Sam
hesitated a second, expecting a sexist comment about nurses in general,
and was actually disappointed when none came forth. He glanced sideways at
his sullen friend. Something else was on his mind. Should he say anything?
He
didn’t have a chance to decide before Al tapped on the handlink once
again. "Janeen
lives in number 14. I’ll be back in a little while, after you’ve
checked the place out." He hadn’t even finished his sentence when
the Imaging Room door opened, and he stepped through. Al left his best
friend sitting alone in the freezing parking lot, his mouth once again
hanging open in surprise. PART
TWO Project
Quantum Leap Stallion’s
Gate, New Mexico December
23, 2000 Al
stood in the Imaging Room, unmoving, after the door closed. In the brief
time standing here he could be all alone. No one demanding anything, no
voices around him, none of that. It was a relief, a calm moment in an
otherwise hectic lifestyle. There were so many emotions tugging at him
from all directions of his psyche on this leap, it was difficult to center
his thoughts. His peaceful moment ended with the sound of Gooshie. "Ah,
Admiral?" the voice asked apologetically via the sound system. "Yes,
Gooshie?" Al responded tiredly. "Um,
Dr. Beeks wants to see you? In her office?" Al
raised a suspicious eyebrow. Not so much at the request, but at Ziggy’s
silence. "Why?"
He asked slowly. "She
didn’t say. She did say she would be expecting you. Especially since,
um, she knows you’re clear now." Gooshie was obviously expecting a
backlash from Al for notifying Beeks of his ‘return’. Beeks must have
pulled that Project Doctor rank thing on the programmer. Al also suspected
Ziggy and Beeks were in cahoots about something, which would explain
Ziggy’s silence. "Fine,"
Al snapped. She was the last person he wanted to see, and she obviously
knew that. Al felt like he was getting cornered, and didn’t like it. He
stalked from the room and dropped the link at the main console, not
bothering to acknowledge Gooshie who was now tending to some sudden and
mysterious problem under the console. He
burst into the main hallway and the shocked look from a passing technician
made him realize that he had to calm down. He forced himself to walk
slower although his mind was racing with a mixed bag of feelings. Trying
to focus on just one of the feelings was impossible, and Al concluded that
he’d better get his act together before confronting Beeks. Al
ducked into the first room he knew would be empty: Sam’s office. It was
a comforting room, filled with memories of getting the Project up and
running, and Al took advantage of the ambiance by plunking down in the
worn, leather chair and focusing on the photos on the wall. The one that
held his attention was of himself, Sam, Donna and Beth, gathered close
sharing a bottle of Champagne. They were all laughing, happy at the news
of finally securing funding for the Project. ‘We all look so young,’ he thought. It was the women’s faces that
held him. There was a feeling he couldn’t pin down when he looked at
their smiling faces; a feeling that it was a false memory, a forged photo.
Like it hadn’t always been like that. The
Observer knew these feelings may have validity, and it shook him to the
core. He didn’t really want to think about an alternative timeline, but
isn’t that what was bothering him now? It was time to be honest with
himself. This leap was too close to home. Sam’s current date was too
much of a coincidence. He felt he had to do something, but knew that it
was against all the rules Sam had set for the Project: Don’t Interfere
With Your Personal History. He
felt himself getting worked up again when he remembered Sam’s specific
orders in that area. Trying to get his mind focused and calm once again he
decided to think about his sister Trudy and how the memory of her was
affecting him during this leap. She was the basis of all his thoughts
since the leap started, and no doubt the very subject on Beek’s mind. Where
Sam was, Trudy was still alive and in another County institution only
about 20 miles away. And she would die in less than 48 hours. Al
leaned back in Sam’s worn chair and put his feet up on the desk as he
pulled out a chewed cigar from the festive shirt pocket, and lit it. The
thought of Sam’s frowning face at his smoking in here made him smile
briefly, but it was only a slight distraction to the memory flooding back
into his mind. He
recalled every detail of the reception area of the County Mental Health
Office in Dearborn. He remembered the small, wrapped purple box he had and
the new set of clothes he had brought for her. He recalled the pride he
had in himself to have put away just enough money for these things, and
finally being able to get her out of there on the eve of Christmas. She
was finally coming home, just in time for Christmas. He wondered if his
mother would be proud of him, and knew his dad would be. The Navy would
pay him just enough to care for her now, but he wasn’t fooling himself
either. It would be difficult, she being mentally retarded and all, but
keeping the family together was important. For
a moment, Al puffed on the cigar and examined the idealism of the young
man he remembered. He’d worked so hard for that goal. Since his dad
died, he had worked towards it every minute, assuming Trudy would be there
to reap the rewards with him. It wasn’t to be, however, as he recalled
the face of the nurse telling him his sister was dead. Pneumonia. His
memory blurred at that point, not remembering signing for her things and
leaving empty handed and empty hearted. He hadn’t even been able to say
goodbye; the County had cremated her per their policy, considering her an
orphan. Al had been working so hard to save her, he hadn’t been able to
visit her in recent years, and the consequences of that decision would be
impossible to live with. That’s why he couldn’t go inside the hospital
where Sam was working Janeen Perry’s job. It brought up too many bad
memories. Al
rubbed his burning eyes and was mildly surprised to find his hand wet from
tears. He laughed at himself, and put out the cigar. So much has changed,
he thought. They even have a name for her affliction now: Down’s
Syndrome. Today she would live in a group home, and do a lot of things for
herself. He could fix those past consequences during this leap. That had
to be why Sam was there, wasn’t it? But why hasn’t Ziggy said
anything? He was walking a fine line here. Was he supposed to interfere
or not? Knowing
this conundrum would never be solved sitting here; he pocketed the cigar
and stood to go. He resolved to see how this played out, and take
advantage of any opportunity. Now if he could only get by Beeks. He
gave the room one last glance and strode out with a sigh. Beeks’ office
was right next to the Waiting Room where Janeen Perry sat, trying not to
lose her cool. Al knew how she felt. He announced his arrival on the
intercom, and Dr. Verbena Beeks opened the door from her desk. The door
sliding shut behind Al made him stand up straighter, ready to take her on.
Dr.
Beeks was behind her desk, neat stacks of paper on either side. A tiny
Christmas tree flickered with fiber optic lights just behind her. She was
a slight woman, but carried an air of authority about her that was only
rivaled by Al himself. It was the gaze that stopped Al in his tracks,
feeling like a kid caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. He refused
to show that insecurity, and held her look with his eyes. "What
do you think you’re doing?" she asked calmly, putting her pen down
to wait for a reaction. She continued to observe him as she crossed her
arms and leaned back in her chair. She sure didn’t beat around the bush.
"Doing?"
Al responded, trying not to reveal anything. He had to find out what she
was thinking first. "Don’t
play this game with me, Admiral," she answered humorlessly.
"Ziggy has called to my attention an aspect of this leap we can’t
ignore." "We?
You and Ziggy?" She
raised an eyebrow. "‘We’ as in all of us. Are you paranoid about
something?" "Paranoid?
Me?" Al tried to look innocent. "Of course not. What
‘aspects’ are you talking about?" Beeks
sighed and dropped her eyes, reconsidering. She stood and walked around
the desk, then sat on the edge in front of Al. "OK."
She sighed. "Let me start over by pointing out a few things. First,
you know that Weitzman’s aide is due here this afternoon." "Yeah.
He should be here in a couple of hours." "Second,
Sam has leaped into a specific time that is sensitive to you." Al
frowned, placed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. He fought
to keep his face neutral. How much did she know? "It wasn’t such a
hot year, no," he admitted. "Care
to talk about that time?" "No,
not really. Is that why you pulled rank on Gooshie and called me in
here?" "Well,
it would probably help you a lot, but, no, that’s not why I called you
in." Al
became more guarded. "Would you mind telling me why, then, so I can
get back to work? Is it about Sam?" "No,
it’s not about Dr. Beckett." Beeks regarded Al for a few seconds as
she tapped the desk with a well-manicured nail, gathering her thoughts.
"Ziggy has supplied me with some information that she feels may
affect this leap, and she is… concerned. Rightly so, I might add." Al
immediately thought of the picture in Sam’s office. Had he changed
things before? "What does this ‘concern’ have to do with
Weitzman’s aide?" It was almost insulting to ask. An idiot could
figure it out. Although the memories of the original time lines faded from
Al’s memory like a dream, Ziggy had recorded it all, along with the
decisions made at the Project during the time. She had obviously shared
some records with Beeks. "Admiral,
Ziggy’s records show you interfering with your personal timeline in a
previous leap. It almost cost a police detective his life." She held
her hand up as Al started to interrupt. "Ziggy has noticed similar
behavior in you during this leap." "That’s
ridiculous!" Al roared, waving his arms. "I haven’t done
anything to interfere!" "No,
not yet. But you haven’t done much to help, either." She stood up,
right in front of the furious Al. "Since this leap has started, you
have been sullen and withdrawn. You won’t talk to me. Past history has
shown you have interfered before when the timeline concerns your family.
With Weitzman’s aide coming, I have no choice but to pull you from this
leap." "WHAT?"
Al was shocked, furious and completely surprised. "You can’t do
that!" "Yes
I can, and you know it." The calmness of her voice was infuriating.
"I find you unfit to handle this leap, at least while the aide is
here. We can’t take the chance that he’ll observe something that could
threaten the existence of this Project." Al
stormed around the small room. "This is absurd! I always protect the
Project, and you know that! You can’t do this to me!" Beeks’
eyes narrowed at that last statement. "What do you mean by that,
exactly?" Realizing
what he’d just said, Al stopped his ranting. He was cornered, and there
was nothing he could do but stand there and glare at her. "I didn’t
mean it like that!" He protested, controlling his anger by clenching
and unclenching his fists. "I’m
not so sure about that. But I can’t take the chance, Admiral, at least
not right now. I’ve told Gooshie and he’s preparing Dr. Fuller to be
Dr. Beckett’s Observer for the time being. Dr. Martinez will cover for
Dr. Fuller. It’s not perfect, I know, but it’s the only way I can
think of to protect the Project and Dr. Beckett." She let that sink
in for a few seconds. "And just think of the personal attention you
can give the aide." Beeks’
was actually using the authority she had as Head Physician of the Project,
and Al knew she had every right to do that. But he was expecting it to be
used against someone else, not him! "I’ll show him personal
attention, all right," he mumbled. "Excuse
me?" Beeks said, not missing a thing. "I
said, is there anything else you want to punish me with?" "No.
Come on, don’t take this personally, Al. You must see that I have to do
this." He
couldn’t really see too clearly right now, but he knew she was doing
what she felt was right. She always did, and that’s what made her a
valuable part of the team. Maybe he was too close, but he wasn’t giving
up on Trudy yet. He just had to have some faith. It wouldn’t be easy for
an action-oriented guy like himself just to stand by and watch, but
that’s all he had right now. Al
simply nodded and left her office. He hesitated in the hallway, and stole
an angry glance at the ceiling where he always envisioned Ziggy lurked.
"Traitor," he growled. "I
did what I thought was right, Admiral," the feminine voice purred
defensively. "It’s
a 97.42% chance Dr. Beckett is not there for your sister." "Well,
who is he there for?" "I
don’t have enough information to calculate that yet," she pouted. "Well,
you can at least keep me informed, can’t you?" he asked
sarcastically. Even his festive clothing couldn’t lighten his mood as he
stormed to his quarters. "Yes,
Admiral. The only area you are restricted from is the Imaging
Chamber," Ziggy replied nonplused at the tone of his voice. ‘This
will be the fasted inspection on record,’ Al thought as he started
setting up a schedule in his mind. The sooner this aide was out of here,
the better. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Dr.
Sammy Jo Fuller was shocked at the news of her assignment. She was so
involved with the latest retrieval programming schematics that Ziggy had
to call her twice, and even then asked Ziggy to repeat the message. Ziggy
was not pleased at repeating herself, and took on an exaggerated tone of
patience that made Sammy Jo smile. As
she headed to the Control Room, she couldn’t ignore her excitement at
seeing Dr. Beckett again. Would he remember her leaping to save him when
he had leaped into disturbed twin teenagers? Would he remember she was his
daughter? Always the professional, Sammy Jo knew she would have to keep
these personal questions to herself. ‘It must be tough to do that,’ she thought. ‘How does Admiral Calavicci cope with it, I wonder?’ On
her arrival Gooshie briefed her and fiddled with the implant that he
himself had used the one time he had to fill in for Al. It didn’t work
well, but it worked good enough to get the job done. She asked if it would
work better for her since she was genetically similar to Dr. Beckett.
Gooshie and Tina conferred for a few minutes, and agreed that it should,
which is why Dr. Fuller was selected for the job in the first place. She
then waited patiently as the files were recalibrated for her bio
statistics. She
had to force herself to keep from pacing in excitement. Among the thoughts
shooting through her mind she wondered where the Admiral was at this
moment, and if she needed to apologize to him for these circumstances. PART
THREE Medfield,
New York December
17, 1953 Sam
had bumbled his way to apartment 14, trying not to look lost. It really
wasn’t that difficult as it was only a two story building with only
about 24 units in all. His place was at the top of the stairs, which were
slippery with ice. As he unlocked the door he saw the curtains of the
window next door sway as the occupant peeked out and smiled from behind
the window. Sam smiled back then entered Janeen’s apartment. It
was very neat and clean inside. Either she was always this neat, or she
was rarely home. Sam thought either one of those ideas may be true as he
quickly put on some water for a hot drink. While he was looking though the
closet for something else to wear, the phone rang. "I would kill for
some sweatpants!" he mumbled as he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
he said cautiously "Janeen!
I wasn’t expecting you home so soon," a woman’s voice softly
said. "I know you are probably tired, but can you come over for some
nice, hot tea? I’ve even made my mulled cider that you like so
much!" "Oh!"
Sam said, completely flummoxed. How was he supposed to know who this was?
"That sounds wonderful, but, I, ah…" "Oh,
dear! You must have other plans. When I saw you at your door, you looked
so tired I thought you would enjoy a quiet visit to unwind." ‘This
must have been the lady next door who peeked out the window!’ Sam
guessed. "I’m
so sorry if I bothered you. Tomorrow, perhaps?" The woman sounded
positively devastated, and Sam immediately felt guilty. "Not
at all!" he heard himself saying. "It would be very nice. Can I
bring anything?" "If
you have any of those wonderful cookies from the bakery near your work
that would be lovely!" "All
right, then," Sam said, glancing into the kitchen. "I need to
change first." "When
ever you’re ready, dear!" the woman replied, then hung up. Sam
replaced the receiver and dug through the drawers, finally finding a pair
of women’s trousers and long under wear. He put on the thermal
undershirt after taking off the uncomfortable bra. "Here’s
my contribution to women’s liberation," he growled as he tossed the
offending underthing on the floor and pulled a bulky sweater over the
thermals. He put on the white tennis shoes in the closet, thrilled at the
fact he didn’t have to wear high heels. Turning
on the wall heater in the living room to take the chill off, he turned off
the stove and started going through the kitchen to find cookies. It was
amazing how organized this woman was. All the spices were alphabetized and
all the paper bags neatly folded and filed in a drawer. Sam was almost
afraid to disturb anything. He finally found a small bakery box filled
with little, white cookies in the small pantry. ‘I
hope this is it,’ he thought as he put his coat back on and secured
the box under his arm. Then he took a deep breath and slipped out the
door. His
neighbor’s door opened as he prepared to knock. "Get
in here, Janeen! It’s cold out there!" Sam
pushed the door open further and stepped inside a very cozy apartment.
There was a tiny, older woman in a flowered dress shuffling away from him
towards the kitchen, humming happily to the big band tune on the radio.
There were shelves on every wall, filled with tiny knick-knacks and books,
and a lacy doily on every piece of flowered upholstered furniture. There
were throw rugs all over the wood floors. The teapot whistled happily in
the kitchen, and the comforting smell of cider hit his nose. Sam felt like
he was in his grandmother’s house, and a broad smile crossed his face.
He raised his eyes to see the woman, her hair piled up in a braided bun on
her head, pouring the water in a teapot. "Here!"
Sam stepped up, taking the kettle from her. "Let me do that." The
woman laughed and took the box from Sam, "I’m not an invalid,
Janeen, but I will take care of the cookies for you. Shall we sit in the
parlor instead of the kitchen? It’s so much more comfortable." Sam’s
smile got bigger at the parlor comment. ‘She
must mean the living room,’ he thought. ‘I
haven’t heard the word ‘parlor’ in, gee; I don’t know how long!’
"Sure," he replied with a nod. The
woman carefully laid out the cookies on a flowered china plate and Sam
followed her carrying the tea tray. She primly set the cookies on the
coffee table, and Sam followed with the tray containing a mug of mulled
cider and the tea set. Sam wished he knew the woman’s name; he wanted to
thank her properly when he left. The woman was pouring her tea when there
was a knock on the door. "Miss
Emma!" A man’s voice called to Sam’s relief. "It’s Larry!
Just want to say hi!" Miss
Emma put the teapot down, smiling. "Oh, that Larry!" she
chuckled. "He worries so! Excuse me, dear, will you?" "Certainly!"
Sam answered, picking up the poured cup to warm his fingers while Miss
Emma shuffled up to the door. "Larry,
dear, I’m just fine!" She pulled he door open just a crack.
"Would you like some tea? Miss Janeen is here, and we would love your
company!" "Why
thank you, m’am, but I was just on my way out. I wanted to know if you
needed anything. Weather report says a storm’s coming in tomorrow and I
want to be sure you have enough supplies." "Thank
you, dear, that’s so sweet. I do need some more candles. Let me get you
some money!" "No,
it’s all right. I’ll pick them up and you can pay me then. Will one
box be all right?" "Yes,
thank you, that would be fine. You are such a gentleman!" Sam
heard the man chuckle as he said his good byes and walked down the stairs.
He was starting to form an idea about Miss Emma, which he decided to check
out. "These
are the cookies you asked for, aren’t they Miss Emma?" he inquired,
sipping at the tea. "Why,
yes," she replied as she shut the door firmly and shuffled over to
the overstuffed chair next to Sam. She sighed. "I do wish they
delivered. But I understand, with the distance and all." "You
have all your supplies delivered, don’t you? I mean, you don’t have
any problem with getting what you need?" "No,"
she said as she settled down in the depth of the chair, almost
disappearing in its softness. "Everyone is so kind. I manage to get
just about everything thanks to the Lord and the wonderful friends he has
given me." Sam
smiled at her. "When was the last time you were outside?" he
asked softly, and immediately regretted asking when he saw his host squirm
a bit and frown. It was obviously a touchy subject. "Let’s
talk about the storm instead, shall we?" Miss Emma was going to
forgive him the gaff. "They say we should get several feet of
snow." ‘She’s
agoraphobic,’ he thought to himself, getting that familiar gut
feeling that she was the reason for his leap. ‘I
wonder how long it’s been since she’s been outside?’ "I’m
sorry if I embarrassed you," he apologized out loud. "Let’s
talk about the storm." Sam
gladly stayed, thoroughly enjoying himself. Miss Emma was an excellent
conversationalist and well traveled in her youth. She was well bred and
from a prominent family originally from upstate New York. He realized that
two hours had passed in no time, and asked if she needed help with her
dinner. She was responding when Sam was distracted by the Imaging Room
door swooshing open, creating a bright rectangle right behind her. It
was difficult to contain his astonishment when a pretty, dark-haired woman
wearing a white lab coat stepped through the rectangle of light and looked
right at him. He felt his stomach lurch into his throat, and choked back a
gasp. What had happened to Al? What had he changed in this timeline to
make him disappear? The woman returned the wide eyed look, then put her
hand out to the wall beside her, smiling as it passed right through. "It’s
not that difficult to make, Janeen! Goodness, you look like I suggested
making dinner for the Queen of England! Would you like to stay and join
me?" Miss Emma started clearing away the tea items. "I...
I have to go now," Sam sputtered, tearing his eyes away from the
hologram and jumping up. "I appreciate the invitation, but I have
some things to do. Thank you, though." His
mind was racing as he forced himself to calmly walk to the door, pulling
on his coat and giving the young woman a sideways look. She had stepped
forward, looking at the furniture, and passed her hand through the
flowered chair Miss Emma had just vacated. Miss Emma then walked right
though her on the way to the kitchen. The hologram just smiled and
politely stepped back so Miss Emma didn’t pass through again as she let
Sam out of the door. Sam felt his heart pounding in his ears. Miss
Emma opened the door. "Oh! Let me get the rest of your cookies!"
"No,
you keep them," Sam said quickly. "After all, I’m only next
door!" He looked at the Observer as he said this, and she obviously
picked up the clue because she nodded. "Thanks again. And good
night." He
showed great restraint as he held himself back from bolting out of the
door to Janeen’s place. He fumbled at the doorknob, glad he hadn’t
locked it, and exploded into the room. The woman was standing next to the
wall she had just walked through from Miss Emma’s, and was curiously
looking around. Sam saw that her colors were more faded than Al’s, and
she wasn’t as sharply defined. At some points he could almost see
through her, but still, there she was! "All
right," Sam demanded, keeping his voice down. "Who are you and
where’s Al?" A
momentary look of surprise, then sadness, passed through the woman’s
eyes. She pulled out the blinking handlink from the coat pocket and calmly
regarded him, her expression neutral. "I’m Dr. Fuller. Admiral
Calavicci is here at the Project, and just fine. There were some...
duties... he had to fulfill, so I’m covering for him. We’ve done this
before, Dr. Beckett. Don’t you remember?" That was a slightly
misleading statement. Gooshie had filled in for Al once before, but not
for something as routine as an inspection. Gooshie had to step in when Al
left the Project grounds to pursue a killer that had escaped from the
Waiting Room, but Sam didn’t need to know those details. She hoped the
Swiss cheese effect of Sam’s mind would save her any further
explanations. For
some reason, her statements weren’t reassuring, but there wasn’t a
thing he could do about it. "Oh." Was all he said.
"What’s going on? At the Project, I mean." The
handlink beeped a few times and Dr. Fuller read the screen. "Ziggy
says I can’t tell you anything currently happening at the Project, but
there’s nothing to be concerned about. Routine stuff. Now, what do we
have here?" She adeptly cut off Sam’s line of questioning by giving
him information. "Ziggy has run a check on this address, and has a
reason for your leap. It seems that there is a fire at this building late
tomorrow, and many people are hurt. One person dies." Sam
knew whom she was referring to before she even said it. "It’s a
woman named Emma, isn’t it?" Dr.
Fuller looked up, surprised. "Why, yes. Emma Pothier, to be exact.
That’s your neighbor here, isn’t it?" She nodded her head in the
direction of Miss Emma’s. "Janeen Perry’s place is destroyed,
too, but she isn’t here at the time. Ziggy says it’s a 96.8 % chance
that’s why you’re here. To stop the fire from starting." Sam
found himself staring at the woman with an odd feeling of deja-vu. The
face, the eyes, they seemed so familiar. "Have we met before?"
he asked awkwardly. The
hologram smiled kindly. "Yes, we have, but if your Swiss cheese
memory doesn’t recall where, I can’t tell you. The rules, you
know." She looked a little sad. Sam
was uncomfortable with the feelings he couldn’t identify. "So, when
will Al be back?" "Soon,"
she replied evasively. "And I can tell you he wasn’t happy about
handing this one over, but he saw that he was the only one who could
complete the other assignment. Shouldn’t take long. In house
stuff." She felt bad lying, but it was partially true. "Ziggy
says all you have to do is leave work on time tomorrow. Originally, Miss
Perry stays over to cover the next shift and gets stuck at the hospital
when a big blizzard hits the area. Power and phones go down all over the
area. The Fire Department thinks the fire starts with a candle in Miss
Emma’s apartment. You just have to prevent it." "That’s
it? Stop a fire?" He sounded suspicious. "That sounds too
easy." "Ziggy
says it’s closer to 99% now. You’ll save three lives, really, because
two of the previously injured people die later because of the wounds
suffered tomorrow. This is according to the newspapers." "When
does the fire start?" "Well,
the storm hits a little before 4 PM, and the power and phones go out
around 6:30. The Fire Department arrives around 9, but the building is
fully engulfed by then. Ziggy estimates the fire starts between 7:30 and
8:30." "OK,"
Sam answered. He stood awkwardly, not knowing what else to say to this
semi-stranger. Dr. Fuller, picking up on his body language, called for the
Imaging Room door. "Well,
I guess I’m outta here for now, Dr. Beckett. I’ll check back with you
tomorrow. Have a good night’s sleep!" She was making an effort to
be cheery, but Sam could tell she really didn’t mean it, and that
puzzled him. "All
right. See you later." Sammy
Jo Fuller kept her chin up as she stepped through the portal to the year
2000. She still felt in her heart that her father remembered her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Project
Quantum Leap Stallion’s
Gate, New Mexico December
23, 2000 When
Sammy Jo stepped from the Imaging Room into the Control Room, it was a
bustle of activity. She watched a pair of techs hustle by as she dropped
the handlink off with Gooshie and Tina at the main console. "What’s
going on?" She asked, looking around. "A drill?" "No,"
Gooshie sighed, much to her chagrin as she stepped back from his foul
breath. "The Admiral is on a rampage about this inspection. He wants
everything perfect and presentable 15 minutes ago." Sammy
Jo suppressed a smile. "I’m not surprised," she laughed.
"Guess I’d better straighten out my lab." "Only
after you debrief him first. Orders." Gooshie looked apologetic. "And
tell the Admiral to take a pill, won’t ‘cha?" Tina quipped
between snapping her gum and adjusting readings on the console. Sammy
Jo laughed and went off to find Al. When she entered the main hallway she
dodged another technician and directed her voice to the ceiling.
"Ziggy, where is Admiral Calavicci right now?" "The
Admiral is currently in his quarters changing clothes." She sounded
annoyed. "When
is he going up to meet the aide?" "Fifteen
minutes. And inform the Admiral that I have finished my self diagnostics
as he requested." "Why
don’t you tell him?" Sammy Jo started down the hall. Ziggy
had a haughty tone. "I have told him three times. He tells me to do
it again each time. I find the repetition boring and poor use of my
abilities." Sammy
Jo suppressed a smile. "Fine. I’ll tell him." She
was just about to announce herself at the Admiral’s door when it
swooshed open in front of her. The Admiral, resplendent in his full dress
whites and extremely intimidating in his demeanor, stepped from the
doorway and met her eyes. There was no mirth there, and Sammy Jo had to
fight the urge to salute and back away. "Follow
me," he snapped, striding in the direction of the elevators. She
obeyed without question, resisting the automatic ‘yes, sir’ poised on
her tongue. She
had to lengthen her step greatly to keep up with him. People parted like
the Red Sea in front of him as they approached the elevators. Two Marine
guards waiting for him snapped to rigid attention and saluted as soon as
Al was in their sight. The Admiral barely acknowledged them. "Let’s
go," he ordered. They called the elevator for him. Sammy
Jo noticed that there were dark bags under Al’s eyes when the entered
the lighted elevator. Under that professional demeanor, he was tired. Or
stressed out. "What’s
up with Sam?" he asked in a calmer tone on the ride up. She
briefed him on Ziggy’s findings and the reason for the leap, and where
Dr. Beckett was at this time. "Keep
me informed on his whereabouts," he ordered. "Yes,
sir," she responded, taken aback by his formality. He
must have noted her surprise. As the elevator slowed he leaned over and
said a bit more softly, "This inspection will be over before the day
is out, Sammy Jo. I plan on being back on the job as soon as this
nozzle’s outta here. But I’m glad you got to see Sam." "So
am I," she softly replied, relaxing a bit. Al
straightened up as the doors open his command presence was again fully in
place. He barked orders left and right to the guards, who scurried off to
carry them out. There was a double line of three fully decked out Marines
at the door when Sammy Jo heard the helicopter land outside. When Al
figured most of the dust was blown aside, he ordered the door open. His
timing was impeccable. The aide and his assistant were at the door as it
slid open, and they stepped in along with a blast of frigid air. The aide
was not the least bit intimidated by the Admiral, and stepped right up to
him, extending his hand. Sammy
Jo’s first impression was that he looked like a ferret. "Admiral
Calavicci, Dan Wringer. We met in Washington last year." Al
shook the hand formally. "Yes, Mr. Wringer, I remember. Is there a
reason this inspection has to be carried out now, so close to Christmas?
Isn’t the Senate off being good boys and girls somewhere?" "Senator
Weitzman feels that the press shows less scrutiny this time of year.
It’s easier to move around unnoticed." "Then
shall we carry on?" Al didn’t give him any time for further chat.
The
poor man and his assistant were destined to try and play catch up for the
rest of the inspection. Sammy Jo had to put her hand over her mouth,
pretending to cover a cough, as she controlled her giggle. They didn’t
have a chance. PART
FOUR For
the next several hours Al kept up a hurricane’s pace. Wringer’s
assistant finally had to plead for a break to catch up on his notes. Al
never broke out of his Admiral role, taking command of the inspection as
if it was his own. Wringer himself didn’t say much, and kept his face
neutral and his mouth clamped shut. The illusion furthered Sammy Jo’s
ferret impression. She slipped away to straighten up her lab after
watching how Wringer inspected other labs. By the time the team breezed
through her lab, she was ready for bed. She
told Ziggy where she was going, and when she would be back to enter the
Imaging Chamber, then collapsed in the quiet of her quarters, immediately
falling asleep. Three
hours into the inspection and right after the break, Al was leading the
small entourage into the actual Control Center. Gooshie gave his canned
presentation to a quiet Wringer and his yawning assistant. Questions were
minimal. It was close to 9:30 and after midnight to the D.C. based pair.
During Gooshie’s presentation, which Al knew by heart, Al kept his mind
alert by calculating the time where Sam was, figuring it to be about 4AM.
Trudy had about 30 hours left to her; Al started to fidget, his
concentration broken for several minutes as he thought about her. Wringer
must have noticed Al’s break in demeanor. When Gooshie paused in his
tour, Wringer took the chance to get in the Admiral’s face.
"Admiral Calavicci. Senator Weitzman will no doubt appreciate the
extent and speed of this inspection so far. You are well prepared. But I
still have several concerns I wish to discuss more in depth. As you know,
funding for a project of this size must be well tracked and accounted for.
I intend to do that to the full extent of my ability, but not in one
night. If you will show us our quarters now, we would like to continue in
the morning. Say, 0800 hours?" It was not phrased as a request. Al
started to have an inkling that he may have underestimated Mr. Wringer.
"That would be fine. Guard." He instructed the guards on where
to take the guests, and they parted company. When they were out of sight
and he was alone in the hall, Al sagged against the wall. He was more
tired than he cared to admit. He rubbed his eyes, then continued to his
quarters. It would be both pleasing and comforting to snuggle with Beth
for the night, but he knew that good sleep would be elusive. He hoped she
was still awake for a little talk, which would relax him, and walked with
a little more bounce in his step thinking of her. Knowing she was the only
one who would understand how he felt, he also hoped to get an idea on his
next step to save his sister, or if he should even try. All he really
wanted was for his brain to stop whirling for awhile. When
he entered his quarters the only lights greeting him were sparkling on the
holiday-decked mantle and tree, and the flickering candles on the small
dinette table. Ray Charles was playing softly as he loosened his dress
jacket and let it slip from his shoulders. When he tossed it on the love
seat along with his hat he heard Beth humming with the music and the clink
of glass from the kitchen. A moment later she swayed into the room with
two glasses full of dark wine in each hand. Her eyes were sparkling at
him, and she wore a diaphanous robe that showed her still perfect figure
along with a teasing grin and a Santa hat. "Oh,"
she said softly as she handed him a glass and started to unbuckle his belt
for him. "You must be here for the inspection!" He couldn’t
help but smile, every thought he had flying from his head. Admiral
Albert Calavicci had finally met his match at hand to hand contact. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Al
was arrived in the briefing room promptly at 0800 hours rested and
refreshed, clad in clean dress whites. His night with Beth had been both
stimulating and cleansing. She had helped his reaffirm his belief that
God, Time, Fate or Whomever was the best one to direct Al’s actions. He
wasn’t used to placing his faith in something unseen, but knew that Beth
would be there to comfort him if an opportunity to save Trudy didn’t
show itself. Beeks had been right; it was too tempting to take the
initiative, and he would tell Beeks that very thing himself as soon as
this weasel Wringer was off his back. Doing
a little research, Al had discovered that Wringer was a veritable wiz on
Capitol Hill at tracking funds. No wonder Weitzman sent him for a year-end
check up. Nothing would look better than a Senator suggesting a tax cut
just before April 15, and the best way to cut taxes was to cut funding
anywhere he could. Wringer would be a bulldog. There was no one else near
his caliber on Capitol Hill. Before
arriving at the briefing room, he got the rundown from Ziggy as to Sam’s
whereabouts, knowing it must be close to the end of Janeen Perry’s shift
as well as close to the time Sam should be leaping. He hated not being the
one there. Sammy Jo had already briefed Al on her visit with Sam this
morning. Al had then allowed her to go Christmas shopping far away from
the Project so he could stall any request for observing her as she
interacted with Sam. Actually, he ‘strongly suggested’ she go, and
Sammy Jo picked up on the hint. Hopefully, Sam would leap and nix any
observation scenarios completely. Wringer
was waiting for Al, a list of questions in his assistant’s hand. As Al
went over the list, he again thought of Sam and what he must be doing. It
was only natural after being his Observer for so long. As expected, high
on the list was a request to monitor the Observer doing their job. Al
clicked his tongue and expressed his apologies at the impossibility of
that task. The meeting went down hill from there, and Al saw his hopes of
finishing this inspection quickly vanish. This was now a war of wills, and
he didn’t plan on losing. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Edgemoor
County Mental Hospital December
18, 1953 Sam’s
day was as hectic as he expected, again quelling little disturbances
before they got out of control. Being close to the holidays just made it
worse, so he understood from the other nurses. It would be like this until
the New Year. The County would take in numerous patients, and shuffle them
back and forth between the various Hospitals, trying to keep the workload
even all around. There was always a shortage of nurses, but there was a
shortage of Doctors, too. They ended up taking turns rotating weekends and
hospitals. Tonight Dr. Beech would be here, and stay for the weekend, so
any emergency cases from the other hospitals would be shipped here if he
couldn’t handle the orders over the phone. It seemed to be an efficient
use of manpower, but a pain in the neck for the nurses. Since there was a
big storm expected late this afternoon, several new patients were
transferred over early before the roads were impassable. In addition to
that, some nurses were leaving early for the County Christmas Party in New
York. It had been going on since noon so the two day shifts could take
advantage of it, and it was expected that part of the next shift would
arrive late because of it. Dr. Beech got there early in the afternoon,
ready to dispense sedatives at the 2:30 meds call. It was already a zoo. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The
10th Annual County Medical Services Christmas Party was very well
attended. The ambulance drivers arrived a bit late because of all the
between facility transfers at the last minute. "A
blizzard on a Friday night," Stan Markum noted. "What timing.
I’m pretty sure we’re all caught up on the transfers, so it should be
a quiet night for us!" Stan was the ambulance supervisor, and had
scheduled all the last minute runs. He was at this moment surrounded by
his crew near the punch bowl, finally getting a chance to relax. He stuck
his hand in his pocket and felt a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out
stimulated his memory. "Oh,
damn!" He murmured as he unfolded the note he had written to himself.
"I forgot about this. Dan!" A
young man still in uniform turned to face him. "Yeah?" "I
got this transfer request as I was walking out the door. Since you’re on
call, you get to handle it." Stan handed him the paper.
"Actually, it won’t take too long. You should be back here in no
time. You’ll probably even beat the storm here." Dan
slipped the flask of brandy he’d been sipping into his back pocket, out
of his supervisors’ vision, and took the paper. "Dearborn to
Edgemoor, one female. Paperwork’s all ready to go, I hope?" "Yup.
It's an easy one. Medical transfer, so she’s pretty dopey. Shouldn’t
be a problem at all." "All
right, then. I’m off. Save me some snacks, will you?" The
rest of the drivers promised they would, happy they weren’t the one on
call for the night. Dan trotted out the back to the County parking lot,
hopped in the stand-by ambulance and started it up. He pulled out the
flask once more as the vehicle idled. "I
might as well warm up, too," he mumbled, taking a sip. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Project
Quantum Leap Stallion’s
Gate, New Mexico December
24, 2000 They
battled their way down the list. Wringer, fighting for every scrap of
information, had to word his questions very carefully. Al answered exactly
what he was asked, using minimal words. The last item left was observing
the Observer, and Sammy Jo still hadn’t returned. Inwardly, Al applauded
her, but he also knew that Wringer wouldn’t give up. Finally, Al
relented knowing Sam would be leaping anytime anyway, and told Ziggy to
ready the Imaging Chamber. The sooner this jerk was on a plane, the
better. Entering
the Control Room, Al turned Wringer over to Gooshie with an inwardly sly
grin. ‘Breathe that, you nozzle,’ he thought as he picked up the handlink
and escorted the assistant from the room against Wringer’s wishes. Al
quoted the security level of this event, and that the assistant wasn’t
cleared at that level. Wringer had to concede. It was tough to tell who
was winning this whole confrontation. With
the assistant in the hall, Al heard the handlink beep and looked down.
Ziggy was reminding Al of Beek’s orders on the screen. ‘She
knows when to be discreet,’ he noted. Al typed in a response,
basically telling Ziggy that he was over riding that order, and ‘she
could contact Beeks if she wanted, but to open the Imaging Room right now.
Sam was about to leap anyway, so what did it matter. Unless, of course,
your calculations were wrong.’ Insinuating incompetence always got
her gears going. "Imaging
Room ready," Ziggy purred out loud. Only those well tuned to her
voice patterns picked up the insulted tone. Gooshie
looked at Al quizzically. "But aren’t you…." he started. Admiral
merely shrugged in return. "Orders have changed. Feign
ignorance," he quietly suggested to the programmer. "Admiral,"
Wringer said in a toned down voice. "I hope you understand why
Weitzman insists on this observation." ‘Weitzman,
my ass,’ thought Al. ‘This
is your idea.’ "And
what reasons are they, might I ask?" Al politely said out loud. "We
have to make sure a project with this... unique ability isn’t
misappropriated. There are some that don’t really believe what is
happening here. I, for one. But it’s not my place to make those
judgments. My job is to make sure everything works the way it should, and
for the reasons I am given. I’m sure you understand, being retired
military." He slightly stressed the word ‘retired’. Al
thought, ‘Yeah, I understand everyone keeps their own secrets to better their
position, you rotten bean counter,’ but said out loud, "I
understand completely." They
both stepped in the Imaging Chamber. Wringer was directed to stand away
from the silver disc and to keep his eyes shut until contact was made. He
didn’t look convinced at that last suggestion, like he was the butt of
some sort of joke. Al said he didn’t really have to keep them shut, but
if he blew chunks on the floor, he was going to clean it up himself.
Wringer turned his back to the disc and shut his eyes. "OK,
Gooshie, we’re ready!" Al called. PART
FIVE Outside
Edgemoor Hospital December
18, 1953 It
was difficult to leave the hospital on time. Staffing was critically low,
but all the scheduled nurses finally showed, tearing themselves from the
County Christmas party. They would all have their hands full tonight.
Sam
hesitated at the exit door. Although he hated thinking it, he rationalized
that Dr. Beech could tranquilize the problem patients if it was called
for, relieving the staff somewhat. Sam shook guilt out of his mind as he
pushed the door open; he’d trade inappropriate use of sedatives with
saving a live. No contest there. Carefully
descending the icy stairs he could feel the cold of the iron railings even
through his mittens. He pulled the knit cap over his forehead and ears and
turned up the furry coat collar against the wind as he awkwardly fumbled
with the car keys. He noted the dark clouds threatening snow and hoped the
car would start without any trouble. Night was falling early in the
typical winter way but the ominous clouds seemed to make the onset of
darkness happen more quickly. By the time Sam coaxed the reluctant engine
to start, it was both black and snowy. He could see his breath inside the car where he decided to wait for a breath of heat from the vents before shifting into gear. Driving very slowly out of the parking lot he noted how beautiful the snow was as it drifted down through the car’s headlight beams. It wasn’t too heavy yet, and he hoped Al’s prediction was right because he should be at Janeen’s apartment before the heavy stuff hit. How could he not be right? This history had already happened! Sam f |