PROLOGUE   

Julianna Contessa Calavicci sighed with contentment as the morning sun broke through the curtains of her bedroom. It was a beautiful day outside - she could tell from the lack of aching in her back - and she knew that it was going to be a long day ahead of her at work. She didn't realize just how long it was going to be for her.

 Rolling over from her right side to her left, she gently touched her rounding pregnant belly with one hand as she reached out to hug her lover with her other. She was met with empty space.    

Thomas however had gotten up early and had gone into the living room to sit and ponder about what happened during the night.  There was something that he had to make a decision about.  He just couldn’t believe that his soon-to-be wife had been dreaming about another man... calling his name out, and telling him just how much she loved him.  It was something that threw him totally out of balance.  It was as if she didn’t give a damn about him, and it wasn’t that it had just happened once, but every night for the last two weeks.  Something had to be done.  He had come to a decision and he knew that it was going to hurt Julianna.

 He had already taken most of his clothes from the bedroom and threw them into the car.  All he lacked was a handful of hang-up clothes and he’d be done.  Everything else... didn’t matter.  He just couldn’t stay where he wasn’t truly wanted.  He knew that he couldn’t stand up to the good Dr. Beckett.   No matter what happened, he wasn’t the man that Julianna loved.  He sighed and headed back toward the bedroom and stopped in the doorway when he saw Julianna turn over.  Licking his lips, he just looked at her for a long moment.  Finally, he asked a bit sarcastically, “Sleep well?” 

 Julianna frowned at his tone and watched at he came into the room and went to the closet to take out his clothes.  Sitting up, she gaped for a moment as it dawned on her what he was actually doing.  “Tom?  What... what are you doing?”

 Thomas licked his lips.  “I’m doing what needs to be done, Julianna.  Let’s just say that I know when I’m not wanted.”  He saw her confused expression.  “Julianna, I know about him, okay?  Just... give it up.  I know when I’m bested.  He’s obviously done that.  He’s beaten me out of your thoughts, that’s for damn sure.”

 Quickly Julianna got out of the bed and approached him, her frown growing. "Just what the hell are you talking about, Thomas?" she demanded of him. "Him who?" He turned toward the door and started walking away but she stopped him. "No, I want an answer. I want to know why you are throwing away our future before we even have one."

 "Him who?" Thomas asked her back.  "Honestly Julianna, I don't think that we even had a future.  Maybe at one point... possibly before you ever came to the Project... *if* we had met before then."  He saw her confusion and he rolled his eyes and licked his lips once more.  “I’m talking about Sam Beckett, Julianna.  I'm no match against him.  I know that.  I... I can't stay here loving you... wanting to be with you... when subconsciously you want him.  And you can't say that you don't.  *If* you didn't, you wouldn't be having dreams about him... and telling *him* how much you love him.  I can't lay beside you -- with you... and have you dream of him every night... and knowing deep down that you want him... not  me.  So, I'm going.  I'll ... I'll do my best to send you whatever you need for the baby, but... I can't do this Julianna.  I... I just can't."  He pushed past her and headed toward the door once again.

 Hurriedly, Julianna followed him toward the door. She wasn’t about to let this man get away from her that easily. "Tom, please don't do this," she pleaded with him. "I love you, Tom. You're just going to leave me and your child like this? Speaking of which, what about the baby? What about working at the project?" Quickly, she put herself between him and the front door. "Please, don't leave. Give us a chance."

 Thomas listened to her questions, her pleading, and for half a minute his mind almost... almost let him stay.  “No,” he told her plainly.  “No.  I won’t stay here when you subconsciously want another man.  I... I don’t want to leave my child ... or you... but I’m not going to do this Jules.  I... I can’t.  And you honestly can’t stand there and tell me that you don’t love Sam Beckett, now, can you?”  When she sputtered, Thomas leaned forward and kissed her forehead.  “Good bye, Bright Eyes.”  He looked down then back up into her ocean blue eyes that were now brimming with tears.  Without another word, he walked down the stairs of their apartment building and out to his car.  It was only out there, that he let the emotions that were kicking at him emerge.  Getting inside the car, he started it, glanced back up at the apartment one last time and drove away from the woman he loved. 

PART ONE 

 The theory of Quantum Leaping through Time was considered perpetually adventurous both intellectually as well as physically.  To meet people, to conclusively discover the answer to an ageless question; to be in the midst of something even a bit conspiratorial ... was a aspiration fulfilled.  However, with every notion, there are some... complications.  The most inconceivable aspects of leaping were the apprehensive, awkward, embarrassing moments one can be tossed into.  I’ve been leaped into several sexual encounters and some rather disconcerting situations, but none of those occurrences could hold a candle to this.

 The loud music that penetrated his ears was the first tangible thing that he could actually hear and feel.  It was a split second later that he landed on the floor, his feet making first contact.  The next sounds and sensations were the screams of excited giggling women, their hands touching him everywhere.  His closed eyes popped wide open as he felt a hand run up his bare inner thigh.  He glanced down and for the first time realized that he was totally and completely naked save for cowboy boots.   He was barely able to cover himself and managed a feeble, "Oh boy!"

 Backing up from the women, he swatted at their hands as he searched the room for a quick exit.  Seeing a door marked “Employees Only”, Sam briskly made his way through the excited, screaming crowd of women who continually groped at him as he passed them.  He closed the door on the crowd, turned around and started down the small hallway were other men were preparing for their turn on stage.  He could still hear the crowd screaming for more.  He turned his head back as the door to see some women sneaking into the hallway no matter what it was marked.  Not wanting to be caught by them, he worked his way down the halls in search of a safe haven and found a dressing room labeled with a piece of tape.  It read: “The Masked Cowboy”.  Not caring who’s room it was, he ducked inside and shut the door behind him.

 He closed his eyes and sighed as he pressed his back against the door, thankful to at least be in a room without women groping for him.  He opened his eyes to look around the small room.  It was a total disaster.  It looked as if a small twister had swiped it.  He frowned as he turned to see the dressing mirror mounted on the wall.  He took off the Zorro-like mask that he had on around his face and looked at the reflection of the tall, handsome, muscular, and very naked young man.  Whoever he had leaped into had brown hair, green eyes, and several fresh scratches on his arms. Somehow, he also had lipstick below his waist.  Shaking his head, he began to search the room for something to dress in.

 The Imaging Chamber door opened with its normal chunk-zoom and Al stepped into the room.  He glanced around, turning in a full circle before he found Sam squatting down rummaging through some papers on the floor as if he was searching for something.  Al’s eyes widened in surprise to find his friend nude.  “Uhm, Sam... are you starting a fashion trend or what?  What’s going on?  What happened to this place?” he asked as he scanned the room once again.

 Sam turned his head toward Al, frowning at his questions.  “Just help me find something to wear, will ya?  I just spent the most embarrassing five minutes in a room full of women trying to maul me while I was trying to get away from them.”  Sam sighed heavily as he righted a chair then slumped into it.  Covering himself with a sheet of paper, he said, “This is horrible, Al!”

 Al sighed.  “I can’t believe you Sam.  I really can’t.  Here you are, with a room full of lovely women down the hall and you think that it’s horrible?  I mean... most men would die for this kind of attention.”  Al walked toward the wall and stuck his head through it to see the women still hollering for the Masked Cowboy... cheering him back out.  “What are you?  A Chippendale’s dancer or what?”

 Sam rolled his eyes.  “How am I supposed to know?  I leaped in like... this!” he motioned at his body with both hands.  “Al, I need to know who I am, where I am, and what I have to do to leap *and* I need clothes!  Are you going to help me out here or what?”

 Al pulled his head back into the room saying, “What was that?  They are honestly excited about him.”  But the look on Sam’s face made him pull up the handlink to access Ziggy for the information that Sam requested.  Taking his usual informative stance, Al began, “It’s Friday, April 23, 1999 and you’re in College Station, Texas.  Oh, Sam, you’re in Aggie-land.”  Al stated as he glanced up at Sam then back to the handlink. “You’re name is Mitchell Davidson.  You’re a stripper, period.”  Al looked up at his friend and shook his head.  “Sorry, Sam.  Not a Chippendale’s dancer.  Pity though, I mean, Mitch is one of the hottest men at the local women’s dance club called the “Hot and Hotter”.  Mitch is twenty-five years old, a college student at Texas A & M and was obviously just in the middle of his routine when you escaped the screaming mass in the other room.”

 Sam sighed, the frustration clear on his face. ‘Why is it that when I leap into an embarrassing or compromising situation, getting information from Al is like pulling teeth?’ he questioned himself.  “That’s all fine and dandy, Al, but what about *why* I’m here and *where* I can find some clothing?  I mean, I can’t leave here like this and there isn’t even a piece of a scrap in this room.”

 “Sam, I can’t help it that you ducked into a room that didn’t have any clothes.  And, I know that you want to know why you’re here, but I don’t know and neither does Ziggy at the moment.  She’s running scenarios as fast as she can.  But I doubt that she’ll know anything for another...” Al looked down at the handlink and saw the number that Ziggy was flashing on the screen, “... for another fifteen point eighty-four minutes.  Sorry Sam.”

 “Great,” he murmured.  “So, I have to sit here for the next sixteen minutes naked, waiting for something to happen.  Terrific.”  Rubbing his face with both hands, Sam moaned.  A thought came to mind and he looked up at Al.  “What is Mitchell’s character for the stage?” 

 It took only a moment for Al to access Ziggy’s database.  “Uhm… that would be the Masked Cowboy.”

 “This is his dressing room?”  Sam asked as he dropped his head.  “What kind of stripper doesn’t bring a change of clothes to work?”

 Al glanced around the room.  “I don’t know, Sam.  Usually there is something that they go home in.  But this place looks like it’s been gone through... like someone took something... like all the clothes.  You – you don’t think that the mob got in here and stole your, I mean, his clothes, do you?”

 Sam leaned forward and looked frankly into Al’s eyes.  “If after what I went through in that club is any indication, I’d bet a hundred dollars that they did.  Those women... are insane, Al!  They...” Sam flushed at the memory.  “They touched me, Al.”

 It took all Al had not to laugh at him, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.  “I know Sam.  Women are horrible when they are in the mood for a hunk -- a hunk of burning love,” Al’s voice mimicked Elvis’ for a moment.  Letting his voice return to normal, he looked over at Sam with a grin.  “Oh, hey, have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet?”  Al asked him as he pointed to the mirror.  “You should.  There is a reason why Mitch is considered the hottest thing at the “Hot and Hotter.” 

 “Yes, Al, I have looked in the mirror, thank you very much,” Sam told him with a glare.  “And it did nothing to help me find clothes or a way out of here.  You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t be the least embarrassed if someone other than Beth touched you in certain super sensitive parts of the anatomy,” he complained.

 Al blinked at Sam’s words.  “You must have forgotten about before I met Beth, Sam.  You know, I was the ladies man before she came along.  I... well... I didn’t seem to mind it when...” Al saw the glare that Sam gave him and he shook his head.  “Okay.  Okay.  Uhm, let me think.  Is there anything in here that you could use that you could cover yourself with... anything?”

 Sam started the search again and shook his head.  The only thing he found was a box of condoms which had been ripped open and had a personal and rather raunchy message written on it in lipstick.  “Any other ideas?” he asked with growing sarcasm.

 Al bounced up on the balls of his feet and shook his head.  “No.  Sorry, Sam.  I guess either you’ll have to wait until the mob leaves, or you can suck it up and just walk out of here in your birthday suit.  Maybe as you walk through, you can grab something... anything to help you out?” Al suggested, but from the look on Sam’s face, he decided that it might be best to keep quiet.  “Sorry Sam.  That’s all I know to tell you.”

 Sam sighed.  “Then, how about asking Ziggy if she has anything yet on this leap?” Sam asked.  “It’s been over fifteen minutes.  She should have something by now.”

 “All right, Sam.  Just... keep your pants on.”  Al realized what he had said, grinned then raised his hand to placate his friend.  Raising the handlink, he looked at the data that Ziggy was spurting out.  “Ziggy says that you need to get Mitch home without getting him thrown into jail for indecent exposure because you need to stop a couple of things from happening to a couple of Mitch’s friends.  Okay.  Uhm, let’s see.  Ziggy said that Cynthia Tate gets a tattoo.  What she didn’t know was that the needle was dirty and she is now in the hospital.  She has AIDS.  Another friend of Mitch’s, David Marentito walks into a video store to rent a movie and when he does, someone there is robbing the place and shoots him.  At the moment, he’s in a coma at the same hospital where Cynthia is.  And thirdly, Sandra Jenkins, another friend of Mitch’s who is now in the psychiatric ward of the state hospital needs help as well.  Tomorrow night, after her mother weds her stepfather, she attacks and kills him.  Also, in the original history, Ziggy says that Mitch’s body is found at the end of the parking lot tomorrow night.  She predicts with a 80.79 % chance that Mitchell was either murdered or committed suicide.”  He glanced back up at Sam to see his eyes wide as saucers.  “Hey... you wanted to know why you were here.  I just told you why.  Don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”

 Sam’s mouth opened and closed for a moment then opened again.  “Wait a minute.  You’re saying that all that happened because Mitch was arrested trying to get home without clothes on?”  To Al’s nod, Sam shook his head.  “Al, this is nuts!  Why’d Mitch try to go home in this condition?  Why didn’t he just call one of his friends to come pick him up or to bring him some clothes?”

 “Sam,” Al said more than a bit plainly.  “When you look like Mitch does, and you have women crazy for you, especially when you strip for a living, he’s used to the crazed screaming loons.  I bet that it doesn’t even bother him to walk around naked.  I’m sure, that he’s one of those guys that, you know, doesn’t have a problem with his sexuality.”  Again, Al received a glare.  “Okay, Sam.  Here, let me get the telephone numbers of those people that I named off to you from Ziggy and you can call and see what you can *dig* up.  Okay?” 

 A few minutes later, after Al had given the telephone numbers for Cynthia, David and Sandra, he crossed his arms and watched as Sam called.  The only luck that he had was Sandra.  At least, she was the only one home.

 “It’s your dime,” a voice chimed in his ear.

 “Sandra?”  He sighed with relief.  “This is… Mitch.  Listen, I need to ask a favor of you.”  Sam scratched his head thoughtfully.  “Uhm, it’s a little embarrassing, but, could you bring me a change of clothes and meet me at the club?  I...” he laughed a bit sickly.  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

 Sandra put down the book that she had been reading and leaned forward on her bed.  “What?” she asked quizzically.  “Could you repeat that?”  When Sam repeated it once again, Sandra grinned.  “You mean to tell me that those crazy women who come to maul you night after night came in and took your clothes?”

 “‘fraid so,” Sam said softly.

 Sandra smiled as she twisted the phone cord around her finger.  “So, you’re nude, calling me, and you want me to help you out, hmmm?”  She paused.  “Okay, but you have to do something when I get there.”

 “What?”

 Sandra grinned as she licked at her lips.  “You have to say that I’m all yours while you’re in front of all of those fans of yours.  That... that I’m the only woman you’ll ever want or need or...” she paused as he considered her ultimatum.  “Or... I’m not coming at all and you can walk home naked.  Your choice, Mitch.  What’s it gonna be?”

 Hearing Sandra’s ultimatum, Sam frowned.  “You’ve got to be kidding,” he murmured and then turned to Al covering the mouthpiece.  “She wants me to profess in front of all those women, in my lack of dress, that she’s the only woman for me or she’ll make me walk home naked,” Sam told him in disbelief.

 “Well, you know what they say, Sam,” Al said with a grin.  “Them that dance with the devil...” Sam glared at Al once again.  “Blackmail may be bad, but, do you honestly want to walk home in your state of ... er.. un-dress?”

 “No, Mitch, I’m not kidding.  Look, I’m about ten seconds away from hanging up.  Either you tell me your answer and I can come and bail you out... or ... the next time the phone rings and I hear your voice on the other end, I’ll just hang up and continue to do so until you’ve come to your senses.”  She paused then began, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three... okay... later then Mitchell....”

 Sam winced as the countdown continued until he couldn’t take it any longer.  “All right.  Okay.  I’ll... I’ll do it.  But you’re going to pay big time for this, Sandra.  Just come down with the clothes, will you?”  Sam rolled his eyes towards Al. ‘The things I have to do to leap,’ he thought miserably.

 “Sure sweets.  I’ll be there,” she paused again as she smiled and wrapped the phone cord around her finger once again.  “Hmmm... and to think that I’m bailing you out of this mess... and right after our date yesterday evening.”  She licked her lips.  “I’ll be there in less than five.  You just better be ready to tell all.”  Without saying goodbye, she hung up the phone.

 Growling in frustration, Sam hung up the phone then rubbed his face.  “Please... please tell me Mitch and Sandra are an item,” he moaned to Al.  “Because if they aren’t, I just buried Mitch in something so deep he’ll probably never get out of it.”

 Al picked up the handlink as he watched Sam scrub at his face, he asked Ziggy.  "Okay, Zigs... does he... or doesn't he? "  A moment later, Al’s eyebrows rose at her response.  "Uhm, Sam.... I think you need a shovel."

 Sam moaned in response. "Well, are they meant to be together? Or do I have to prevent that now?" Things just seemed to continue to become more and more complicated.

 "I... hell, Sam.  You're changing things already in this leap," Al said as he looked down and read the information on the handlink.  "According to Ziggy, they weren't a couple.  Mitchell here was dating Cynthia Tate.  Remember, she's the one that has the tattoo that she shouldn't get.  But... well... now, Cynthia doesn't get the tattoo.  So congratulations on that one.  Seems that the tattoo was to be Mitch's name.  So... you saved her without even knowing it by saying... well... when you do say that Sandra is the woman for you.  I... I guess that Cynthia is out in the crowd of very attractive loons out there screaming their heads off for you... er... I mean, Mitch.”  Al said as he twisted his hands in the air as he talked. 

 "Wait a minute, Cynthia is out there?"  Sam asked unbelievably.  "Al, why didn't you tell me in the first place?"

 "Sam... Sam..." Al said softly as he shook his head.  "I don't know that for a fact.  I'm just saying that I guess that she's out there."

 "Well, why don't you find out for sure before I destroy their relationship?" Sam lectured him. "Jeeze, Al..."

 "Okay... okay... okay...” Al said softly.  He pulled his hand up and relocated himself out in the middle of the bar.  Trying to find this Cynthia girl was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.  The place was thick with women... some of which from the looks of it, they needed to be at home tucking in their little ones, while others needed to just be home period.  But, lovely as she was... she was there, sitting down with a group of older women still talking about the masked cowboy who had danced on their table, and who had been very, very friendly with Cynthia. 

 "Oh jeeze, isn't this great.  Basically, he gave her a lap-dance.  That's good," Al shook his head and relocated himself back into the dressing room.  "Yup.  She's here... and a little ... flustered.  From the discussion that was going on at her table, the Masked Mitch danced his way into her lap."

 Sam shook his head.  "At least it was her lap and not Sandra's." Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. "Okay, how do I get Cynthia to take me home and get me some kind of cover?" He cringed at the only option that he could think of. "You mean I'm going to have to go back out into that horde in my birthday suit?"

 Al nodded.  “Yup,” he shook his head sadly. "Sometimes... you get yourself into the oddest messes, Sam.  I mean, honestly."  Before Sam could say anything else, Al told him, “Listen, I...” Al pulled the handlink back up.  “I’m going to re-center on Cynthia again.  Make sure that everything out there is okay...” but even as the last word came out of his mouth there was a knock on the door.  Turning around, he stuck his head out through the door and chimed, “Oh boy!” 

Sam cringed, this time at Al’s tone.  “Uhm... who is it?” he called out, his hand immediately coming back to the paper covering himself.

 "It's me you dork.  Open the door.  I have some clothes that Eddie let me borrow for you."

 "It's... it's Sandra."  Al didn’t have to look to know that Sam was cringing and in the hot seat now.

 Sam exhaled slowly, “I’ll be right there,” he told her and then reluctantly went to the door.  Carefully, he cracked open the door.  “Hi,” he said with an embarrassed smile.  “Can I please have the clothes?  I’m... I’m meeting Cynthia in a few minutes.”

 “Wait,” she pulled the clothes back away from the door.  “You mean to tell me that you pulled me away from a story that I've been reading for a while now... out of my bed... just so that you can borrow clothes and meet Cynthia?  I don’t think so.  Sorry, Mitchell.  Deal with your own problem.”  She paused as she looked up into his shocked face.  “You... ohhhhh!  MEN!  You weren’t going to say anything were you?  You were just going to walk away and not say a damn word.  Well... now you won’t have to.  Cuz, you don’t have the clothes!”  Turning on her heel, she took a few steps away but she didn’t get far.  A crowd of other strippers were coming through the hallway.  “Goodbye, Mitch.”

 ‘Great. Back to square one,’ Sam thought at he wiped as his face.  Sighing he looked over at Al.  “Okay,” he said as he closed the door.  "I need more information here. One, when does Cynthia get the tattoo exactly? Two, when is David going to be shot? Three, when is Sandra going to kill her step-father?  Four, why does she kill her stepfather?  Five, how do I get out of here and stop all that while still keeping Mitchell's and Cynthia's relationship intact? Is she still here? And last but not the least, when am I going to have some CLOTHES to wear?"

 “So many questions and so little time, Sam,” Al said softly, but the musical bleep of the handlink caught his attention.  Looking down at it, he shook his head.  “Oh no.  Sam, you need to get out there right now.  Sandra and Cynthia are about to have round one.”

 Foregoing any embarrassing intonations his undress might cause, Sam hurried out into the club and back into the catcalls of the women who crowded the room.  With Al’s help, he went straight to the two women who were arguing.  “Hold it!” he said quite plainly.   But as Sandra continued to rant and rave, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back a few feet from Cynthia.  “I said, hold it!”

 But Sandra wouldn’t be put out.  “If he’s so in love with you, then why is it that he’s calling me to bail him out of this mess that he’s in?  Huh?”   Sandra yanked her arm free and turned to see who it was.  “Oh, so, we aren’t so embarrassed anymore, huh, Mitch?” she asked a bit heatedly.  “Here,” she slapped the clothes that she had brought with her into his arms then turned back to Cynthia and pointed a finger at her.  “I bet that you didn’t even know it was him dancing on the damn table.” 

 By the open-mouthed shock look on Cynthia’s face at Mitch standing before her nude, only fueled the fire.  What Sandra had said, and with the proof standing before here, she knew it was the truth. 

 “I knew it the first time he was here... and I confronted him with it... but you’re such a Miss Goody-Two shoes that you didn’t even realize it, did you?”  Sandra snipped at her.

 Sam frowned at her words.  “Sandra, thank you for the clothes.  Now, leave.”  It seemed the quickest way to get Sandra off of Cynthia’s back.  “The only reason I’m out here is so you two don’t kill each other.”

 “I have just as much right to be here as she does.  I paid to get in just like she did.  I don’t have to leave,” Sandra told him matter-of-factly.  She crossed her arms over her bosom and glanced between the two of them.  “What about you, Cynthia?  Cat got your tongue?” 

Cynthia glared at Sandra with contempt.  “You’ve been trying to steal Mitch from me ever since you laid eyes on him.  Go find your own man... or are you too stupid to do so?” 

“If you haven’t opened your eyes, honey,” Sandra spit at her,” the whole place wants Mitch ever since they laid their eyes on him.”  The catcalls from a couple of women around them accentuated her point and only made Sam blush. 

“But there’s a difference there, Sandra,” Cynthia growled.

 “I know there is, Cindy... but why did he sleep with me then, huh?  Tell me that.”

 “Stop it!  Right now!”  Sam threw the clothes back at Sandra and looked at her.  “Listen to me carefully, Sandra.  I am not going to say what you want me to say in front of these people.  Cynthia is my girl.  What I do for a living has no influence on whom I choose to date or not.”

 Sandra blinked up at Mitch, especially when the clothes landed back in her arms.  “But... but... what about last night.  That... that was nothing?  What we shared?” she asked softly.

 “Oh boy,” he murmured under his breath.  “Al...” he growled and turned his head toward the uncooperative hologram.

 Al shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know what to tell you.  But, boy does this kid have a life or what?” he asked with a grin.

 Sandra blinked up at Sam then looked over at Cynthia, then back to him once more and swallowed.  “All those romantic words... were just what you needed to say to get me in bed, weren’t they?  Fine.  Excuse me,” she dropped the clothes from her arms and turned around to leave but the women were so thick around the trio that she couldn’t leave.  “Please... please will you let me by?” she asked them softly but no one moved.

 “Okay, I ... I think that we all just need to sit down and talk about this,” he told both of them.  “But, I don’t want you two yelling and screaming at each other and I don’t want to do it in public where the entire club knows my social life.” Sam reached out and touched Sandra’s arm.    “Sandra, I appreciate you bringing a change of clothes,” he told her and then quickly picked them up before the mob decided to steal those as well.  “And I want you both to come with me into the back where we can talk in private, please?”

 Sandra looked down as she felt him touch her arm.  “No.  No, Mitch.  I... I’ve got to go.  But then again, it’s not like you care.”  She pushed into the crowd only getting a few feet when one of the older women standing by says, “Honey, go talk with him.  At least get the whole story.” 

Sandra thought it over for a moment then turned back to look up at Sam.  “Fine.”  She looked over at Cynthia who was still smoldering and crossed her arms over her chest.

 “Thank you,” Sam told her and then guided the two women back toward the “Employee Only” door he had escaped through before.  Before he closed the door behind him, he stuck his head out and said loudly for all to hear, “And ladies?  I would like my clothes back, if you don’t mind.  Thank you.”  Closing the door, he heard their laughter and shook his head.  Guiding the ladies to the dressing room, he turned his back on them and quickly dressed in the clothes that Sandra had brought.  Looking up at Al, he whispered lowly, “When is David shot?”

 “Not until tomorrow afternoon.  You have plenty of time to save him.  But this...”  Al said softly with a shake of his head.  “This... is going to be interesting.”

 Sam nodded subtly then said, “Would you please go talk to Mitch and find out what the hell I’m supposed to do about this triangle?  Which one does he want?”

 “Sure, Sam.  You just need to keep them calm.  I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

PART TWO 

Project Quantum Leap

May 25, 2003 

 Walking out into the Control Room, Al saw how Ziggy’s mainframe panels had been taken off.  They were lying around the Control Room scattered here and there.  He frowned.  He didn't like the looks of this.  Looking around the room, he called out, “St. John?” 

 St. John peered around the other side of the mainframe.  “Yes, Admiral?”

 “What’s going on here?”

 “Oh, uh...” he began.

 Another voice piped up from behind the mainframe.  “He was showing me Ziggy’s wiring, Uncle Al.  It’s... it’s my fault.”  Slowly Stephen Beckett came around the side of the mainframe.  His big green eyes looked up into Al’s apologetically.  “We’ll pick it up, I promise.”

 Al knelt down to get eye to eye with Stephen and motioned for the young man to come over to him.  “That’s okay, Stephen.  Just remember that we are busy around here.  If I holler for St. John, he’ll need to help.  Okay?”

 Stephen bobbed his head up and down.  “Yes sir.” 

 Al scrubbed the little boy’s head playfully.  “Go on and learn what you want, young Beckett.”

 Stephen’s eyes sparkled up at him.  “Yes sir!”

 Al shook his head as he started toward the Waiting Room.  Placing his hand on the lock, he waited for it to recognize him and unlock the door.  Walking inside, he spotted Mitch pacing back and forth a bit dazed.  “Hi, Mitch.”

 Mitch frowned at the man who entered the room.  The nice black woman, who had come in a few minutes ago, wasn’t much help in answering his questions.  She gave him soft smiles and assured him that everything would be fine.  Still, he was worried.  “Who are you?” he asked plainly.  “And just exactly what is going on around here?  You in charge?”

 Al smiled at the questions.  “I’m Al and yes, I’m in charge, here.  Everything okay?  I mean, other than you being in here and not being allowed out?”

 “No, everything is not okay.  Like you just pointed out, I can’t leave and I don’t know where I am.  Now, what’s going on!”

 “Well, Mitch, what I can tell you is this: you are involved in an experiment.  You’re fine, but there are a few things that are going on in your life that need some clarifying for the experiment to take place properly.  For example... Sandra and Cynthia.”  Al watched as his expression fell.  “Care to tell me about what you remember about them?”

 “Well, I remember that... Cynthia and I have been dating for awhile now,” he said as he scratched his head.  “And Sandra... well... we’re close... I guess.”  Mitch leaned against the bed in the room not looking at Al.

 “You and Sandra are close...”Al repeated his words as he nodded at him.  “Okay, how close?  Intimate maybe?” he asked patiently.

 Mitch lowered his head for a moment before raising it.  His glare surprised Al.  “Maybe,” he told him.  “What does any of this have to do with this experiment of yours?  Using me as a test subject for some twisted sexuality experiment?  You keep Sandy and Cindy out of this!”

 Al couldn’t help but widen his eyes at his response then chuckle as he shook his head.  “No, son, you don’t understand.  This...” he motioned about the room, “... is no sexuality experiment, I promise.  No.  Uhm, let me give you a scenario though.”  Al took a deep breath.  “If Cindy and Sandy should come to find out that you have been intimate with both of them, who would you choose to be with, Mitch?  If it came down to the wire... who would it be?”

 Mitch chuckled as he pointed his index finger at Al, then shook his head with a raised eyebrow.  “You have got one twisted imagination, mister.  There is no way in the world they’d find out unless they blabbed to each other.  And they aren’t going to do that, I can tell you.”

 “You sound sure of that.”

 “Of course, I’m sure.  There are some things you just don’t talk about in mixed company.” Mitch paused then frowned.  “Why are you asking, anyway?”

 ‘Okay, how do I go about explaining this one without just saying it?’ Al thought as he pursed his lips.  ‘There isn’t.’  Sighing, he said, “Listen, Mitch.  Let me tell you what happened, okay?  You were at work, dancing like there was no tomorrow.  You may not remember this... but you basically did a free lap dance for Cynthia as the Masked Cowboy.  Now... you went back to your dressing room and found out that your clothes had been taken by the horde of women who go to the “Hot and Hotter”.  According to the report,” Al said hoping that he was making Mitch believe him, “you called Sandra to get you some clothes.  She came with them... and when you told her that you were going to meet with Cynthia in a few minutes, she got mad and supposedly left.  Now, instead of leaving, she confronted Cynthia.  You tried to stop it, in the buff so to speak, and uh... the next thing you know... you’re here.”  Al saw what he could call the ‘oh shit’ look.  “Well, uhm, son, I’m sorry to say, but you have to decide who you’d like to be with.  Now... and I mean... right now.”

 “I can’t!”  Mitch told him plainly.  “I love them both!” 

 “Oh boy.”

 Mitch started to pace like crazy.  “Why in the world would I call Sandy when I just lap-danced Cindy and know she’s in the audience?"  He looked up at Al.  "Huh?  Tell me that.”

 Al shook his head.  “I... I don’t know, Mitch.  Perhaps you weren’t yourself.”  Al couldn’t help but grin then cleared his throat.  He paused, as he looked Mitch over.  “So, you love them both.  Is... is there a stronger love for one more than the other?  I mean...” Al shook his head and sighed. ‘Sam, you really put your foot in it this time,’ he said as he brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose.  “Okay.  Stop and think here, Mitch.  Which one did you meet first?”   

“I met them both on the same night... at a party.”

 Al paled.  “Oh boy!”

 “Well, they both have got great qualities to them.  What can I say?  Sandra is the wild one, likes to take risks, which is kind of attractive and she’s great to party with.  Cynthia... she’s more reserved but still a partier and,” he exhaled and shook his head.  “Well, Cynthia would make a great wife for someone.  She’s loyal, kind and really good in bed.”

 Al shook his head.  “You know, if you hadn’t said that last part... I could have sworn you were talking about a dog,” Al said sarcastically.    He shook his head and raised his hand as he saw Mitch open his mouth to retort back.  “Look, Mitch, Cynthia may make someone... someone a good wife, but would that someone be you?”

 Mitch shrugged.  “I don’t know!” he said in frustration then exhaled.  “Boy, I really did it this time, didn’t I?  Bet they’re madder than hell at me.”

 “Oh yeah, they are.  Very much so.”  Al took a deep breath and blew it out.  “This isn’t helping me much here, Mitch.  But... oh... what about Sandra?  Is she the marrying type for you or...” Again Al saw the shrug and the frustration in the young man’s body as he ran his hand through his hair.  “Okay.”

 “There’s a law against bigamy, isn’t there,” Mitch stated more than questioned.  “That would solve everything there.  Do I have to pick one of them?  I mean, can’t I just have them both?”

 Al’s mouth dropped open at the questions.  “Yes, Mitch.  You have to choose.  You can’t have your cake and eat it too.  I’m sorry.  The world doesn’t work that way.”  Al shook his head at him.  “Just... oh no... wait.  You don’t have a third person in this lovely mix... do you?  Please, tell me that you don’t have a third girl somewhere.”

 Mitch winced at the question.  “Well, let’s see... there’s Pamela.... Courtney...” he hesitated seeing the older man’s face becoming paler.  “... and Halle.”  Seeing the shock in the man’s eyes, he raised his hands.  “Okay, so I like women,” he defended himself.  “Come on.  You’re a guy.  You know what it’s like.”

 “You have five girls that you’re being intimate with?”  Al asked him tersely.  He whistled at that then shook his head.  “Yeah, I know what it’s like, but I also know how my wife makes me feel.  I know that it feels the same with her every single day... and I wouldn’t trade her in for any amount of money in the world.”

 Al took a deep breath and then licked his lips.  “So, you love all five of them?  Or do you just think that you’re in love with them?”

 “Well, maybe Sandra and Cynthia are at the top of the list.”  Mitch thought about what Al had said then said, “You’re married?  Ummm,” he pushed off of the bed and approached him.  In a near whisper, he asked, “Which one would you pick?”

 Al tilted his head at him.  “You want me to choose for you?” he asked a bit in shock.  “Is that what you’re asking me to do, Mitch?”

 “Hey, I’m just getting advise from an old pro, that’s all.  I mean, you’ve obviously already shopped around before you found the perfect girl.”  He shrugged.  “What’s wrong with getting an inside scoop?”

 “Well, that may be the case here, Romeo, but I don’t know them.  You know them a bit more than I do.  If... and I do mean if, I knew them better, then perhaps I could make a decision.  I’ve only known them all but five minutes.”  Al looked the kid up and down.  ‘Where did he come from?  And why is he reminding me a lot of myself at that age?’  He shook his head once again.  “I need an answer, Mitch.  Which one will it be?  Sandra or Cynthia?”

 Mitch ran his hand through his hair, sighing in frustration.  “What if I choose the wrong one?” he asked.  “I could be stuck fifty years from now with an old hag without teeth yelling at me about how her corns are bothering her and telling me to give her a foot massage.”  He shivered from the picture that he just drew.  After a moment though, he shrugged.  “Cynthia, I guess.  I... I can’t see Sandra getting married to anyone.  Her temper... whooooo nellie!”

 “Are you sure?”  He asked trying to stop the laughter that wanted to get out at the picture that Mitch had painted.  “Listen, Mitch, the woman I love... the woman I married... she has a temper; one that makes the Devil himself cringe at.  I know what her temper is like, but then again, I also know how the make up sessions will be going afterwards as well... just as hot.”

“Well, if it’s sex alone... it’s Sandy, hands down.”

Al closed his eyes and shook his head.  “That’s not what I’m saying Mitch.”  He rubbed his face a bit tiredly.  “It’s everything.  It’s something that you have to know here,” Al touched Mitch’s chest on his left side.  “If you don’t feel it here for her, either one, then you need to back off and look at the situation a little more closely.”

 Mitch sighed then moved back over to the bed and sat down.  “Maybe... well... if I do that... I might never see them again and I don’t want that.  Neither of them will talk to me if I reject them both.  This is getting depressing.  You sure I can’t have all of them?”

 Al grinned at him.  “Yep.  I’m sure.  I think that I have the answer that I need, now, Mitch.  I’ll just tell them that at the present moment that you need some time to decide what’s going on... “

 “Oh yeah, that’ll go over well,” he said sarcastically.  “Sandy doesn’t like delays.  Like I said... temper.  Sometimes, I think that she’s coo-coo in la cabesa.  One minute she’s the hottest thing, I mean...” he made an hourglass shape with his hands.  “Next minutes she’s the hottest thing.... if you know what I mean.”

 “Well, what would you like me to tell them, Mitch?  That you have three other girls on the back burners in case they didn’t work out and sorry that they found out in the first place?  That they weren’t supposed to go digging?  What?  Which would be more appropriate?  More time?  Or what I just said?” Al asked pointedly.

 Mitch looked at him with surprise before exhaling heavily.  “More time, I guess,” Mitch told him, sounding defeated.

 “Alright.  Let me go tell them that.  Don’t you worry about their tempers.  I want you to think about which one you want to be with.  Believe me, they’ll want to know.”  Turning away from him, Al rubbed his face.  ‘Oy vey!  This kid is going to drive someone nuts!’

PART THREE 

 The situation had gotten out of hand.  After a lot of arguing between the women, who seemed to refuse to wait for me to give them an explanation, Sandra demanded the clothes back and stormed out with them and Cynthia thumbed her nose and followed suit, leaving me once again, stuck in the club, baring all.  Could anything get worse on this leap? 

 Sam looked up from where he was sitting as the Imaging Chamber door opened.  He leaned back in the chair and sighed as he brought his hands up to scrub at his face.

 Al looked around the room searching for the girls then turned to see Sam sitting in the chair, once again, naked.  “Uh... Sam?  Where are the girls and why are you still naked?  I thought that Sandra gave you the clothes.  You... you were getting dressed when I left weren’t you?”

 Sam moaned.  “Al, who is this guy?” he asked flustered.  “Those girls wouldn’t listen to a word I was saying and kept talking about how Mitch vowed his love to each of them.  Sandra demanded the clothes back, saying I didn’t deserve to borrow Eddie’s clothes -- who ever Eddie is.  Cynthia, welll, she thumbed her nose at me and marched out the door.  The manager just came back a few minutes ago and told me that he was locking up in fifteen minutes.... so I have to leave.”  Sam sighed.  “I swear, Al, someone finds this really funny.”

 “You wouldn’t believe this kid, Sam.  He not only has Sandra and Cynthia... but he also has Courtney, Pamela and Halle too.  But, he says that he loves Sandra and Cynthia, however, asked if he could keep them all.”  Al shook his head.  “I’m really worried about him.  He... he reminds me a little too much of me at his age.”

 Sam raised his head and quirked an eyebrow at him.  “You had five girls at the same time?” he asked.  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

 “Actually, I had seven.”  Al watched as Sam shook his head.  “I was in the Navy, Sam.  Come on... a guy...”

 “Yeah, yeah, I know a girl in every port,” Sam murmured.