Previously on Quantum Leap: 

Dr. Beckett leaped into Avery Thompson, an inmate at Gatesville Penitentiary; yet, Sam doesn’t know exactly why he’s there. Leaping into the middle of a brutal sexual act, he is left in an emotional turmoil that is shared between both men in the future and in the past.  

PART FIVE 

Sam was awoken roughly - neither by the soft timbre Al’s raspy voice nor by the two inmates that seemed to be friends of Avery Thompson, but by the same man who had put him there in the first place. Sam didn’t recognize the features of the man standing to the left of him, but as he blinked sleep away, he did recognize the man’s voice. 

“Seems like you have had enough sleeping time, sugar,” the ugly familiar voice taunted softly into his ear. 

“Huh?” Sam turned his head slightly to the side as he recognized the man’s voice then vaguely noticed the charcoal gray uniform the man was wearing with the badge on his left breast pocket. “Oh…!” Sam screamed when the thoughts connected and he realized that he was face to face with the enemy that he had encountered yesterday but a hand placed roughly over his mouth silenced the yelp. 

“Don’t even think about it,” the man taunted back quietly.  

Other patients that were in the infirmary woke and mumbled out their complaints of being woken up then turned back over in the beds. Whether or not they realized what was taking place, it didn’t seem to matter to them. If they did know about it, they either didn’t want to get involved because they were physically not able to or because they were scared themselves. 

The Imaging Chamber door chunk-zoomed to the right of Sam, revealing a very anxious Albert Calavicci. Sam glanced in that direction as Al came through the door, his breathing labored from the run that he just made from his office.  

Seeing that a man had a hold his friend, Al knew that something was most definitely wrong, especially from the look in Sam’s eyes. “Sam! What the…” he didn’t need to finish his question, he knew the answer… it was written all over Sam’s face. “Is this guy….” 

“You gonna keep your mouth shut?” the guard hissed at him. 

Sam glanced back at the man leaning over him then back at Al. He didn’t know what to do so he thought it best to do what the man said instead of being roughed up more. Sam faintly nodded to answer not only Al but also the man that had his hand clamped over his mouth. 

Al looked the man up and down and spied the breast pocket that had the man’s name labeled on it. It read: Jackson C. Al’s face blanched as he swallowed the lump that had immediately formed in his throat. “Oh boy… uhm, Sam, just… just do whatever he says, okay? I’ll explain later.” 

A glance from Sam acknowledged what Al said. 

Jackson had a firm grasp on Sam’s arm and he pulled Sam up toward him. He laughed lowly - menacingly. “I thought that I told you to keep your mouth shut.” 

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t understand what this man was talking about. He just looked at him as he tried to keep his senses from going into hyper drive. His heart was thumping rapidly in his chest and he was sure that he would hyperventilate if this man didn’t remove his hand soon from his mouth. 

“I bumped into your friends this morning. They decided to act up, shouting about something that happened yesterday. I thought that we had an understanding about that,” Jackson said as he glared at him. 

Sam felt the ghastly heat from Jackson’s foul breath upon his face and tried to move his head to the side away from him. “I… I don’t know wh… what you mean,” Sam replied weakly. 

Al cringed at his friend’s answer. It wasn’t the best way to play games with the person who had the upper hand. He knew that but at the moment, a lesson on playing mind games wasn’t on the ten top things to do list. 

“Oh come on, Avery, I think you are playing games with me.” Jackson pulled Sam up off of the bed and held him by the scruff of the shirt. “It’s a good thing that your little nurse friend isn’t here today,” he said menacingly. “At least I don’t have to mess her up too.” 

Sam quickly glanced at Al, his worried face questioning Al on where Monique was. 

Al quickly brought the handlink up and questioned Ziggy. “It’s okay, Sam. She’s not in danger. Her shift ended two hours ago. I guess the other nurse is on break or something.” Al waved his right hand in the air slightly before nervously dropping it to his side. 

Sam's face relaxed with the news but not enough as he looked back at the huge guard before him. Charles Jackson was a burly man, with bulging muscles – a formidable foe. His size reminded Sam of a famous wrestler that he had once met, but the name eluded his Swiss-cheesed brain.  

Charles grabbed Sam’s shirt, hauling him up into a sitting position on the bed before he pulled him toward him with a smirk. “Come on, sugar, we need to have a … a chat,” Charles said with a sneer then half-pushed, half-pulled Sam through the doors of the infirmary and out into the corridor.  

“Wh…what?” Sam barely got out before stepped into something wet. He took a deep breath as he stepped on his foot that he was favoring and inhaled the strong disinfectant odor that permeated the corridor. Sam glanced down at his bare feet. He was surprised that the floor was still wet from the cleaners that the janitors had washed it with. ‘Maybe there was a chance that they were within shouting distance,’ he thought, but there was no sound to be heard except his own labored breathing.  

Suddenly, Charles pulled him back around to face him rather abruptly causing Sam to stumble then come to his full height before the massive man. Charles roughly pushed Sam up against one of the cells that lined the right side of the hall. “I said, it looks like you and me are going to have a little chat, aren't we?" he repeated.  

Sam nodded slowly as he felt the aches and pains from the beating he had received yesterday crying out through his body. His head still pounded and he felt as if he was going to be sick from the man's rancid breath. He didn’t know how much more he could take before he was going to be sick. The vertigo and the throbbing ache that was beginning to engulf him weren’t mixing well. 

Al was sick to his stomach from not being able to do a damn thing. He followed them, giving Sam as much moral support as he could - it was the only thing he could do. He couldn't bear to watch, but there was no way that he was going to leave his best friend's side not like this. 

Jackson held Sam tightly against the bars of the empty cell as he grabbed at the keys from his belt. Opening the cell, Sam felt himself being roughly pushed inside and landed on the bed with a yelp. Raising his hand he tried to stop the mammoth coming toward him. “Just… just a minute,” he tried to rise up into a sitting position but his abdomen and chest were so badly bruised that he couldn’t do it just by will power alone. He lay back on his elbow and looked up at the man glaring down at him. “Listen, I…” Even as he began to respond to the man before him, he felt himself being pushed aside. The words that spilled forth from his mouth weren't his own and they came so quickly, he wasn't even sure that he'd said them. 

"Please, Charles... I... don't do it again. I didn't say anything to them. I... oh God, please don't... I'm sorry. I... I didn't say anything... honest." Sam blinked his eyes rapidly as he saw the man leering at him as his hands began to unbuckle his belt. "N... no... Charles... please." 

As Sam looked upon the face that showed no mercy, he knew that whatever he said wasn't going to be discerned. He hated the fact that he could not get out of the situation that he was in. All the leaps in the past, that he could remember, he had at least had some sort of control over them, and he was able to turn a bad situation good. This time he wondered what was so terribly wrong that he could do absolutely nothing to help himself.  

"Just shut up will ya!" Jackson ordered in a stifled shout. As he closed in on Sam, the gates of the cell rattled, startling all three of the men standing in the cell. 

A long legged young guard stood at the cell door. "Everything okay in here, Jackson? Is this...” he frowned when he looked past Jackson at the man lying on the bed. "Avery?" his voice tilted up a notch inquisitively. He took a few steps into the cell and stood in between them. "You should be in the infirmary, boy. You were beaten pretty badly yesterday. Ms. Monique told me all about it. Come on, son.” He held out a hand to the inmate.  

Sam looked to Jackson and back to the hand offered before he swallowed and reached out toward it. 

Al closed his eyes and blew out a deep sigh of relief. "Man oh man, am I glad that you showed up when you did," he mumbled as he came up on the balls of his feet. He looked down at the handlink in his hand and poked at the buttons. "Sam, this is… uhm… Leroy Manney. He's been a guard here at Gatesville for almost two years. He's a rookie around here, but he's been honored twice in the past eleven months that he's been here for following the rules to a T. So, he's a good kid." 

"Yeah, I found him here. He must have wondered off from his bed. I was gonna take him back," Jackson leered at Sam, challenging him to say different.  

"You lying sack of... " Al started. 

"Yeah, well, I promised Monique that I'd help out in the infirmary,” Leroy said as he cast a glance at Charles. “When I saw that he was gone, I came a lookin'. Good thing that you found him. I'd hate to get on her bad side. I'm hoping..." he said as he hefted Sam up off the bed, "... that she's a little sweet on me." 

Sam grunted as he came up on his foot and shot a look at Jackson as he straightened his shoulders and came to his full height. But even as he did so, his head ducked back down toward his chest - Avery's submissiveness was starting to get on Sam’s last nerve.  

“Come on, Avery. Let’s go,” Leroy said as he took hold of Sam’s arm and took a few steps forward. When Sam didn’t move, Leroy sighed lightly. “Come on.” A moment later, Sam slowly started toward the door, his head still ducked in submission. 

“Need some help?” Charles asked as he watched the two men slowly pass him by. 

“Nah, Jackson, I got it. Thanks though,” Leroy told him plainly. 

As Charles passed by Sam, he gave him a warning glare then smiled and went ahead of them toward his own destination – bed. He got what he wanted for now… Avery Thompson under his thumb. 

Together, Leroy Manney and Sam walked back down the corridor to the door that he had exited before and went back into the infirmary. Sam knew that this wasn’t going to be the last time that he saw Charles Jackson, and promised himself that he would be ready for him the next time he came around.  

Leroy helped Sam into the bed, then pulled the blankets up and covered him with them. "There. That’s where you belong, Avery. You are in no position to go wondering off like that on your own. There's no telling what could have happened you if Jackson hadn't had found you."

Al looked up at the guard in surprise. "What?  Are you kidding? There was no telling what could have happened if you hadn’t..." 

"Well, now that we got you back, I'll be making sure that you don't go running off like that again, you hear?" 

Sam nodded his head, somewhat confused, then blanched when he realized that the guard was strapping him down to the bed. “But… I… I thought…” Sam blinked in amazement as he looked up at Al. He wasn’t sure why the guard was securing him to the bed, but he didn’t like not being restricted and confined to the bed when someone was out to get him – namely, Charles Jackson. When the guard had finally left the bedside, Sam shot a look at Al. "Al! What in the hell is going on here? I thought that he was a good guy?"

 
"He is... was... I don't know.  The point is Sam he got you out of that mess and that counts for something doesn't it?" 

Sam just looked at Al, nodding his head in disbelief of Al's lack of assurance. "Just tell me what Ziggy has, will you?" Sam said, his words sharper than he intended to use on his friend.

Al knew that this leap had taken a toll on Sam more than he could bear. Al looked down at the handlink wondering how he could tell Sam that Jackson had justification in Avery’s abuse. ‘How do you tell your friend that he leaped into a man who supposedly murdered the guard’s wife?’ he thought to himself as he massaged his chin gingerly. ‘Then, how do you tell him that even though the evidence was stacked a mile high, that you don’t think that he did it?’ Al knew that the second question that wracked his mind was easier to deal with than the other.  

"Sam, I am not sure what is really going on here,” Al half-lied, “but there is one thing that stands to reason. I think that I can definitely say that Avery is innocent, I just have a gut feeling about this one Sam."  Al took a cigar from his pocket and began rolling it between his fingers before putting it in his mouth to chew on.  

 "So what are you saying? Are you saying that Avery has been framed? So who framed him?" Sam asked. He tried to move into a more comfortable position but the straps that tied him to the bed where cutting into his skin and he winced at the pain that assaulted his arms.  

 "Zig's not sure on that at the moment, Sam, but she says that there is a 80.4 percent chance that he was framed."  Al rolled the cigar in his hand and glanced down at the handlink.  "So, as soon as you get out of that bed in the morning, you need to make sure that you don't get strapped down again and make sure that you stay away from that nozzle," Al said as he pointed the cigar at Sam with emphasis on the last two words. 

 "When am I?  Where?" 

"You leaped into Avery Thompson who was incarcerated for the murder of Jessica Jackson on September 1, 1987.  That much you knew... or just found out.  You are in Gatesville Correctional Facility and the date is October 4, 1988.  We know... well, we guesstimate with a high percentage that Avery was framed and well, that's about all that we know," Al said as he looked away from his colleague.  He hated lying to him. 

Sam narrowed his eyes as he looked at Al.  "Al, come on... you know something.  What is it?  Tell me!" 

Al scuffed the tip of his shoe on the floor and then looked back up at Sam with a sigh.  "Jessica Jackson, the woman that Avery ‘supposedly’ killed was… uhm… was married to Charles Jackson... the nozzle that... uhm... did this to you." 

The blood drained from Sam's face in an instant, "So... this is revenge? He thinks that I killed his wife so this is his way of getting me back?" He felt sick just thinking about it. "I know that there are people that think revenge is their right, but this? This is sick." Sam almost shouted, quickly lowering the tone of his voice again before he drew any attention to himself.  "Al you got to get me out of here, I don't think I can take this anymore," Sam pleaded Al. 

Al looked at Sam's face, knowing that this leap was beginning to be too much for his colleague to take. He truly wished he could get Sam out right now. A line that came to him from his papa came blaring across his mind: ‘Wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up first.’  He took a deep breath and shook off the memory.  

"Sam, you got to hang on. We'll come up with something that will get you out I promise, but you got to be strong.” He saw the hopeless look in Sam’s eyes. “I know. I know you feel it's impossible, but you got to do it Sam. You just… you got to. You've got to hang in there kid, okay?" 

Sam nodded his head slowly, he could see the concern on Al's face and knew that Al was telling the truth when he promised they would do everything in their power to get him out, it was just a matter of how long he had to wait. 

The handlink chirped then squealed almost agitatedly in Al’s trousers. He pulled it out looking upon the screen to see what information Ziggy had for him. “Uh… hmmm, Sam? I’ve got to go back to the project. Something’s come up and…”

 
”What? What’s come up?” Sam asked, obviously concerned as to why Al had to leave him yet again. “Do you have to go?” he asked, almost sounding like a child scared of his father leaving him to be alone in the dark. 

"I won't be long Sam, I promise," Al answered, hoping that whatever they were calling him back to the project for, it better be good otherwise there were going to be some major fireworks and it was no where near the Fourth of July. 

PART SIX

Project Quantum Leap 

The Imaging Chamber door opened and Al walked back into the present. He sighed wearily as he ambled down the ramp into the Control Room. What he saw there surprised him. It was deserted. He blinked and an amusing thought of tumbleweed rolling through the Control Room gained wan smile before he glanced up at the light blue electrical orb handing from the ceiling. “Is there a problem, Zig?” 

Ziggy remained quiet for a moment then answered him in a soft tone. “Admiral, I think that perhaps either you or Dr. Beeks need to talk with Avery Thompson. He’s awoken from a nightmare and he’s asking for someone to come see him.” 

“Where’s Beeks? Shouldn’t she be in her office?” Al asked sounding perturbed that he was being called away from Sam to do a job that wasn’t particularly his to do.  

“She’s taking a nap, which you did order her to do.” Ziggy’s abrupt reply surprised Al. He didn’t remember giving her an order to sleep, but without having slept himself in the past thirty hours, he was amazed that he knew her name to begin with. “Oh,” he said almost blandly before a yawn stretched through the tired muscles on his face. “Okay, I’ll do it, but as soon as Verbena wakes please send her to the Waiting Room,” Al ordered as he began crossing through the Control Room. 

When Al reached the Waiting Room, he paused, took a deep breath then sighed. He really needed more sleep… or more hours in the day if he was going to keep up with everything that the Project put him through. The long hard days, the mostly tired, sleepless nights… it was beginning to be a bit much. He stretched his arms for a moment then squared his shoulders and opened the door with his code.  

The door of the Waiting Room slowly zoomed up before him and he looked around the room searching for Avery. Finding Avery pacing in the room like a caged animal, Al prepared himself for anything. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he stepped inside. 

Avery stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the voice. He hadn’t even realized that the door had opened. His mind was still reeling from the images that he had seen. He looked down at his hands… hands that only minutes ago had seemed to be covered in blood. Not just any blood, but her blood. He quickly lowered his hands and wiped them on the Fermi suit that he was wearing then looked at them again. Clean and rid of blood. He turned his head to look at the man who had entered wearing oddly colored clothes. His eyebrow rose in fascination as he realized that the man before him needed some fashion sense and a color coordinator.  

“Where’s Dr. Beeks?” he asked, concerned that something had happened to her. What, he had no clue, but the fact that she had been there to comfort him in his time of distress when he had been… he dropped the thought and took a few more steps toward the oddly dressed man. “I… I need to talk to her.” 

Al saw the hesitation in Sam’s - Avery’s - face. He knew that the young man had been expecting the long legged lovely black woman to return, but he wasn’t going to get her. “I’m sorry Avery, she isn’t available at this minute. Can I help you?” Al asked, knowing that though the young man hadn’t seen him before, he might talk to him after all. It would sure help with the leap and he needed all the information that he could pull from Avery. 

Avery watched the man for a moment as he started toward him. Although the older man seemed to have a decent caring side, he looked at him warily. Tilting his head back slightly, he asked, “Who are you?” 

“Admiral Albert Calavicci.” 

Avery’s eyes grew large at not only the name but also the title that went with it. “Look, man, I didn’t do anything! You guys can’t keep roughing me up to find out any information about Jessica Jackson’s murder. I didn’t do it. I found her. I didn’t do it.” He said as he backed away from Al, his hands ready to parry a blow if he had to. 

“Avery, calm down. It’s okay. Listen, I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanna talk okay? You gotta trust me,” Al said as he moved a few more feet toward him. 

“That’s what the last guy told me,” Avery interrupted him then swallowed trying to hold down his stomach as his mind went back to how he came to be in this condition. “I didn’t do it, okay?” He looked around the room thinking that somewhere, someone was watching him, listening in to the conversation as they had in those old television reruns. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t murder Jessica Jackson.” 

Al could see it in Avery’s eyes. He knew… his gut told him that Avery Thompson was telling the truth, but how they got him pinned on the murder of this woman was another thing entirely. If Avery didn’t do it - who did? “Avery, can you tell me what happened that night?” 

Avery snorted at the man before him and glared at him. “Thought you said that you weren’t here to interrogate me.”  

Al shrugged his shoulder and said, “Okay, it’s a question. You got me on it. Humor me.”  

Avery frowned, as he looked Al over. He didn’t look like a cop and he wasn’t acting like a cop. Maybe then… he wasn’t. Maybe he was. Avery licked at his lips, lowered his eyes and nodded. “I was out walking like I do… did… every night. I heard an argument and then heard a scream. It was a woman’s scream. I didn’t care who the woman was… no man is supposed to hit a women. No one.” He waved his hand in the air as he looked up at him, showing that he didn’t care for that type of action at all. “I was raised in a household where you… treasured a woman. You treated them like goddesses. Seems a bit ironic that I would be the one charged for murdering this woman, huh?” 

Avery stopped as he began to walk toward the bed. He raised his hand to his head and frowned yet again as he tried to remember what he had done.  

“Go on.” 

He made it over to the bed and leaned against it, letting his head hang between his shoulders. “I… I went to the house when I heard her scream. I raced inside. She… oh God… by the time I got there, she had been gutted.” Leaning completely forward, placing his upper body on the bed. “I heard a noise downstairs. I went and he was there… her… her husband. He’d been stabbed. He was unconscious. I pulled the knife out, but by the time that I did that, the cops were at the door. They arrested me… tried… convicted… of murder… a murder,” he rose up to look down at the bed before him then slammed his hand down on the bed as hard as he could. “… a murder that I didn’t commit!” 

Through every word that came out of Avery’s mouth, Al could picture the scene in his minds eye. He could even feel the shock that Avery must have felt when he found the poor woman dead. Al shook his head as he started toward the bed. He wanted to put his hand on Avery’s shoulder and tell him that it was going to be okay and that they’d help him get through this ordeal.  

But before Al got even close, Avery snapped his head toward Al, jolted backward and yelled, “Don’t touch me, man!” 

Raising his hands in surrender, Al stepped back to give him some room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to touch you.” Al continued to back away from him as he felt the instant tension filling the room.  

The Waiting Room door opened behind him and Verbena Beeks stepped inside and quickly summed up the situation as she went to Avery’s side. “What’s going on here, Admiral?” she snapped at him.  

“It’s okay, Verbena. Everything is under control,” Al tried to reassure her, even though it didn’t look that way at all. 

“Just get that man out of here. I don’t want him in here!” Avery yelled as he jerked his arm away from Verbena and moved to the other side of the bed putting distance even between her. 

“Perhaps you better leave,” Verbena said as she turned to look back at Al. It had taken her so long to even get close to Avery and in a moment all that had been taken away with a single conversation with Admiral Calavicci. She silently cursed as she looked at Al as he dropped his hands to his sides. 

Al nodded in agreement as he started back toward the door. “Avery, we are gonna help you, ya know.” 

Avery turned his head toward the man and gaped at him for a moment. “Hey!” He waited until Al had turned back toward him. “If you want to help, keep that crazy assed guard away from me. If you really want to help… then do that.” Avery saw him nod then look back at the woman beside him, her eyes sympathetic. He shrunk back from her as he thought about the guard and how he had attacked him. Shaking his head, he spurned Verbena and headed toward a corner with the hope that he could block that memory and never think on it again. 

PART SEVEN 

As Al left the Imaging Chamber, he thought about what Avery had told him. “Ziggy, you did record everything that was said in the Waiting Room, didn’t you?” Al already knew what the answer was, but he had to make sure for his won peace of mind. 

“Yes Admiral,” Ziggy replied. 

Al meandered up to Ziggy’s mainframe and stood there thinking about everything he had heard. Something was niggling at his mind – about the whole situation. Something wasn’t right.  

His brow furrowed with thought as he reviewed over the data in his mind. If Avery said that he went in through the front door and up the stairs to find Jessica dead, then went into the kitchen to find Jackson stabbed and unconscious, then why was there a ladder at the upstairs bedroom window? In the police report, the police had noticed and documented that the ladder had not been used. Al thought about that for a moment. In each of the incidents that he had encountered with Charles Jackson, he suddenly realized that in both of those instances that Jackson had never accused Sam of murdering his wife when he had the opportunity to do so. But he did on both occasions accused Sam of sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong. ‘What was that all about?’ Al thought to himself.  

Turning away from the mainframe, he started toward his office. He wanted to check on something that just sprung to mind, but before he got to far down the corridor, Ziggy’s voice purred through the corridors. 

“Admiral, I think that you need to go see Dr. Beckett.” 

“Damn,” Al swore as he turned an abrupt one-eighty. Starting back toward the Control Room, he asked, “What’s the matter, Ziggy?” 

“There’s a fifty percent chance that either Dr. Beckett will still be in the infirmary or creeping down the hall in search of Mr. Jackson to retaliate.” 

“What?!” Al asked immediately concerned for his friend’s welfare. He knew that Sam was in no position to be up and moving around. "He's physically restrained to the bed!" 

“I don’t know, Admiral. I can only tell you a percentage of the two possible outcomes. Which one you find on the other side of the door, that is of Dr. Beckett’s doing, not mine.” 

Al mumbled something under his breath as he wondered, ‘Just how in the hell did he get out of the confines of the bed?’ He quickened his steps toward the Imaging Chamber picking up the handlink from its sacred spot on the mainframe as he left. 

Opening the door to the Imaging Chamber, he stepped inside then called out, “Okay, Ziggy. Start her up.” He held his breath and closed his eyes a she hoped that he’d find Sam still tied to the bed. However, what he hoped and what he found was not the same thing. 

“Ziggy, center me on Sam,” Al commanded a bit irritated as he stood beside the empty bed. A moment later he found himself in what looked to be the same hall Sam had been rescued from earlier. “Sam! What in the hell are you doing?! You’re supposed to be in bed!”

A very startled Sam Beckett placed a hand to his heart as he leaned back against the wall for support. His heart was racing from the scare that he just had from his holographic partner. “Al!” he hissed at him softly. “I… I…” 

“You’re going to get yourself into more trouble, Sam,” Al warned him plainly. “How did you get out of those straps?” 

Sam gave his cohort a glare. The last thing he planned on doing was getting into more trouble. “Listen, Al,” Sam replied softly. “One of the guys in the infirmary let me go. But what he said surprised me and made me investigate what he meant by it.” 

Al’s brow furrowed in thought. “What did he say?” 

Sam clapped the back of his right hand into the palm of his left one. “He told me that they were meeting tonight and that he hoped that I got them good. I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but something’s up Al. Something is very wrong here. I know it. Avery knows it too. I think that’s the main reason that I’m here. He knew something was going on and he got wind of it and was trying to stop it. Now… if I only knew what was going on, then maybe I could leap the hell outta dodge.” 

“Sam, I think that it’s a bit more complicated than….” 

Laughter erupted further down the hall stopping Al from finishing his sentence. Loud hushing sounds followed and even Al had to wonder what was going on down the hall.  

Sam pointed down the corridor in the direction that the laughter came from. “That’s what I’m talking about, Al,” Sam stated. “Something’s going on here. Could you go check it out?”  

“Down there?” Al pointed down the corridor and saw Sam bob his head up and down. 

That was like walking into a lion’s den, but he knew that he needed to help Sam out. It probably was just a couple of the guys playing poker and having a good time. He ambled down the hall and poked his head around the corner to see a group of men seated at a desk at the end of the hallway.  

He walked closer, trying to pick up on what they were saying. He glanced around the faces and found one that he instantly recognized. Charles Jackson. Al glared at the man sitting at the desk as he leaned back and put his hands behind his head.  

“Look it guys, this is the deal. You do what I say, when I say, or you don’t get your stash. I have plenty of it to go around and to keep everyone happy in their little cells at night… and I have no problem supplying it… but…” 

“You scumbag,” Al snarled back at him. 

“… unless you do what I say, then you aren’t going to get it. I don’t give a damn if you have night sweats or not. The more the merrier for me in the long run if you don’t. So, it doesn’t matter to me. But you know the penalty if you even THINK about telling someone what’s going on here.” 

“You mean, like Avery, Jackson?” one of the inmates asked as he elbowed the person beside him. “You seem to sure be sweet on him,” he grinned. 

The moment the words came out of his mouth, Jackson immediately stood up, grabbed the man by the shirt, reared back and popped him twice sending the man to his knees. 

“Damn, Jackson, it was a joke,” the man said as he wiped at his bloody lip with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Do it again, and you’ll be in the same situation as Avery Thompson is in.” 

“When do you want us to do it?” another man asked solemnly. “Tonight? Tomorrow? When do you want them to find the body?” 

Al gaped at what they were plotting. He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to rush back to Sam and let him know, but he also wanted to know what they planned on doing as well. “You bastards,” he muttered. 

“I don’t care. Just get rid of him and make sure that no one connects this murder to me. I’ve already got the cops sniffing around still over that slut. I am not gonna have this thing hanging over my shoulders, too.” 

“Ziggy, center me on Sam,” Al commanded. Popping immediately at Sam’s side and startling him yet again, Al had a hard time keeping his breathing calm. “Sam, they plan on killing Avery!” 

“Avery?” Sam questioned then shook his head softly. “You mean… they plan on killing me.” 

"Precisely," Al said as he motioned for Sam to go back down the hall, which he came. “I think you better get back to your bed before someone catches you out here, Sam,” Al warned, feeling that he had been gone too long from the infirmary. 

Sam nodded at Al’s words and started back toward the infirmary. By the time that he got back and laid back down, he was worn down to his bones. He blew out a deep breath. “So what else is going on down there, Al? I mean, what was the meeting about?” Sam asked quietly hoping that it would help his plight. 

“Uh, Sam, Jackson and a couple of thugs were down there. It seems that Jackson has been supplying drugs to the inmates as long as they do what he wants them to do. That includes killing Avery. But, Sam, I think that there is something more here to this leap. I … I think,” Al said as he fingered the handlink in his hands, “… I think that Charles Jackson killed his own wife.”  

Sam laid there in shock at the news. He blinked the looked down then back up to his cohort. "Al, do you think that Avery found out about the drugs... and that's why... uh... it happened when I leaped in?" Sam managed to maneuver around the incident and then look back up at Al who nodded. "Oh God..." he whispered. "When? When are they planning to..." 

Al sucked in a deep breath before he dared to spill the news once again. “I think that they said tonight, but I’m not sure. Just be on the ready,” Al said plainly. Al wished that he were in Sam’s place. He wasn’t sure that his friend had the strength to fight the bulky men that he had seen at the meeting. 

Sam nodded his head then turned to look at Al quizzically. “Where… where are Frank and Will? The guys that helped me here?” 

Al checked the handlink and said, “They are down the row outside of the infirmary, about two halls down.” 

“I’ll need a key,” Sam said plainly. “Where is that other guard?” he asked as he slowly sat back up on the bed and looked around the infirmary. 

Al’s brow furrowed with a frown as he looked at Sam. He was scheming a plan, and he didn’t like that one bit.  

Looking back at the desk at the far end of the infirmary, both men turned and looked at the guard who had his feet propped up on the edge of the desk, laid back in the chair, his eyes closed. Al took the initiative and popped over to where the guard was. “He’s over here asleep, Sam,” Al called out to him. 

“Where are his keys?” Sam asked quietly as he got up out of the bed and started over toward the desk where the man slept. 

Al pointed to the desk. “They’re inside the desk.” 

“Watch him,” Sam mouthed to Al and very carefully and as quietly as possible began to open the drawer. Casting a glance occasionally at Leroy, he finally got the drawer open and reached in and quickly grabbed the keys to keep them from rattling and waking the guard. Sam then carefully and quietly walked back toward the corridor. He looked down the hall and started toward the other end where Will and Frank were. ‘Gosh, I hope that they are awake… or easy to wake,’ Sam thought as he walked down the hall.

Al followed Sam and just hoped that Sam knew what he was doing. Sometimes, I can't believe the bravado of the man walking ahead of me. Al popped ahead of Sam and checked up on the two men who hopefully would help Sam out. “They’re asleep Sam,” he told Sam when he showed up a minute later. 

Sam grimaced. He had hoped that they would be awake. Sam hissed into their cells as he began to look down at the key ring in his hand, “Frank! Frank! Wake up, Frank!” He had no idea which key opened the door and he cursed his luck that he had to chance it. Slipping one of the keys into the lock, he tried it but no success. 

From inside the cell, Frank moaned and turned over onto his side. Sam groaned himself and went to Will’s cell next to him, trying another key then called out to him, “Will! Will! Dammit, Will, wake up!” 

“Watch it, Sam!” Al called out. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a voice called out from behind Sam. 

Sam turned around quickly and found himself face to face with a few of the inmates. He swallowed hard and smiled lightly at them. “Hey guys,” he managed to say lightly. “I was just … going to talk to these two about their snoring. It’s awful.” 

As if on cue, Frank let out one good snore and snorted and the guys standing in the hall lightly laughed before they stepped forward to grab Sam roughly by the arms.  

Sam managed to barely get an arm out to toss the keys into the cell with Frank. They landed on his neck hard, waking him up just before they slipped to the floor with a clatter. “What in the hell?!” Frank bellowed and stood up as he saw Avery being led away down the hall calling out his name. Irritated, he lay back down on the bed and rubbed at his throat. “Why in the hell was he here?” 

Growling more to himself than anything else, he settled himself back on the bed, but he couldn’t get situated. Turning on his side, he smacked his lips and let his arm dangle over the side of the bed.  

“Frank, come on, Frank, open your eyes and look down!” Al pleaded with the man who began to close his eyes once again. “NO! Frank! Open your eyes!” 

When Frank turned a bit more onto his stomach, his hand lowered to the ground and fingers lightly brushed the keys. His eyes opened. Frowning, he looked over the side of the bed and saw the items lying beneath his fingers. An eyebrow shot up and he picked up the keys and looked at them. “What the…” 

“Come on Frank! Sam needs your help! Please!” Al called out to him. 

He stood up and went to the cell door and after searching the ring for a moment; he put his hands through the bar, inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. Peering out into the corridor, he went to the other cell where his friend was and opened it as well. “Will, come on, wake up. Something's up with Avery." 

“Oh thank God!” Al said softly. “Come on, we gotta hurry! Come on!” 

“What?” Will called out sleepily as he woke, blinking up into Frank’s face. 

Frankie slapped his hand over his mouth with the other he placed his finger on his lips. “Shuuush,” he whispered. “Come on. Avery is in trouble.” 

“H…how did you get in here?” Will looked at him puzzled. Frank smiled flashing the keys before his eyes. “Wh… where did you get the keys from?” Will asked. 

“They came flying into the cell to me like a little birdie,” Frank told him sarcastically. When Will just looked at him, he said, “Come on you dolt.” Frank yanked on Will’s collar and then both men headed down the hallway in the direction that they were taking Avery. 

The hallway now was deserted and no one was around. ‘Now, where’d they go?’ Frank thought to himself and stood in the corridor looking around for a split minute. 

“Where’d they go?” Will asked. 

“They went thataway!” Al pointed down the corridor. “Let’s go!” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “If I knew, do you think that I’d be standing here looking around like an idiot?” he asked him plainly. Will opened his mouth as if to say something else and he pointed a finger at him. “Say one word and you’ll be eating your foot.” 

Will closed his mouth. 

“Damn,” Frank muttered as they walked further down the hallway toward another set of cells going out toward the exit that went toward the loading docks. “Damn, damn, damn,” he said a bit loudly waking a few of the inmates in their cells. Turning back toward Will, he muttered, “Where’s that angel of all things Holy when you need him?” he asked aloud. 

“Come on, Frank!” Al called out as he walked through the door then he heard the question that he had asked. Startled, he walked back through the door and stood there anxiously. “Come on!”

"You looking for an angel?" A voice in the cell behind him asked.  

Frank turned around to see Ed McCanney standing in his cell, looking a little groggy. "Ed, go back to sleep, I swear, you're as crazy as a loon. Ain't no such thing..." 

"Yes, yes, there is..." he said as he pointed toward the door. "There... that's got to be an angel... he ... he just walked through that door!" 

"You can see me?" Al asked the man in the cell as he pointed to himself. 

"Of course I can see ya. I maybe crazy, but I ain't blind." 

Al smiled as he turned to look at Frankie and Will with their mouths hanging open, gaping at Ed. “Well, tell these guys Sam… er, Avery is at the docks and that he needs their help.” 

Ed looked at Al confused for a long moment. "Tell them dammit!" I shouted. This is the matter of life or death here!” 

"Th... The Angel told me to tell ya that, Sam Avery, is in the Docks,” Ed stammered.

“What ever that means," he added of his own accord. 

Frank tilted his head to the side as he listened to a one sided conversation that Ed was having. Turning his head, he looked at Will who was just as shocked.  

"Well, if there is an angel here, can he tell us which dock? We have four of them... ya know?" 

Ed looked to Al for an answer as he also nodded. “He’s right you know… we have four docks.”

Flustered, Al key’d the handlink to find out Sam’s exact location and immediately the answer came up. “South point!” 

Ed looking back at Frankie and Will, "He said, South Point." 

“South Point?" Frank asked and saw Ed bob his head up and down. "Gees... that's where he was yesterday morning!" Hitting Will on the arm, he grinned as he opened the door. “Come on, Will, we’ve got some butt to kick.”

PART EIGHT 

Sam was led away from the cellblock and down the ramps toward the loading docks.  He was half-pushed half-pulled down the sidewalk and then was placed between two of the largest men that he’d ever seen in his life… not only muscular in stature but in height as well.  As they moved him forcefully behind some of the crates, Sam noticed the bloodstained wall from yesterday and his face paled.

“Wait a minute, guys.  I’m sure that we can talk this thing through.  I mean…” Sam began to utter, but the men weren’t in a mood to talk.  A well-placed fist in his gut told Sam exactly that.  Sam was sent into a coughing fit and all he could do was stand there, bent over beside the inmates as he wondered where Al was.

“Avery, you are such a putz,” Sam heard one of the guys mention before another gut punch landed and sent him into another coughing fit.  “Like we are going to listen to you,” one of the men said.

Al grimaced as he popped in beside his comrade.  “You aren’t going to let these guys get away with that, are ya Sam?”  Al looked at the two large men holding onto Sam’s arms and shook his head in disbelief.  “Don’t worry, Sam.  Back up is on its way!”

Grimacing, Sam looked up Al.  He was glad that Al was around.  Sam had a renewed spirit and tried to fight in their hold, but all it did was tighten.  “Let me go.  At least let me defend myself,” Sam said before several more punches came in contact.  He felt as if his nose was broken, and his gut was killing him.  He ducked his head and groaned out in pain.  “Al…” he said softly hoping that whatever back up would show up as quick as they could.

Picking up his head, Sam wasn’t surprised when he saw Charles Jackson standing before him, his face full of anger and fury.  He also wasn’t surprised when Jackson reared back and punched him with everything that he had.  Sam’s head exploded in pain.  He brought his head up and blinked at the stars that he was seeing before him.  “How… how are you paying them?  Money? Drugs?  What?”    The guard standing before him looked as if he was about to explode.  “Won’t the others wonder what happened to me?  Don’t you think that they’ll investigate my murder?” Sam asked carefully.

Jackson glared at Sam and turned in a complete circle as he raised his hands up above his head in anger.  Quickly he turned around and took a step toward him and slapped him hard across the face.  Grabbing him quickly by the shirt, Jackson sneered at Sam, “Look here, you piss-ant, I’ve had to put up with your crap since you moved into our neighborhood.  I knew that you’d be walking by our house and hear screams… you always walked by when we were arguing.  And I knew that you always peeped in on Jessica.  I saw how you always flirted with her.”

Sam shook his head, opening his mouth to say, “No,” but another slap across the face stopped him.

“So, I got tired of that shit and decided to take things into my own hands.  I had it all set up… the ladder, the stab wound… everything.  All you did was touch her, the house and then the knife, and you were pinned with the murder of my wife.”  Jackson sneered at Sam and laughed lowly.  “And now, after I was able to have my own way with you… now, now you’re going to die, Avery.  I hope that you said your prayers tonight, because you are about to meet your maker.”  Rearing back, he popped Sam on the nose one more time before he spit on him, then he stepped back to let the boys finish the job that was he was going to pay them for in dope.

Frank and Will came bounding down toward the path of South Point Docks and heard Avery gasp out in pain as Jackson punched him.  Even as they heard the sound, they turned the corner and Frank came to a quick halt when he saw Leroy Manney ducked behind the crates, holding a rifle.

“Shush,” Frank whispered to Will then pointed in another direction to get out of sight.  “He… must have gotten that from the guard station,” Frank told Will as they started toward the crates from another direction.  “Something big is up, Will.  Something really big.” 

Leroy Manney shook his head as he crouched down behind the crates.  He had heard all that he needed to hear from Jackson.  He knew that something had been up with Avery Thompson since he came.  At first, he thought it was just a clash of personalities, but as time had gone on, things had started happening to Avery.  Avery had told the other guards that he was clumsy, but how clumsy did you have to be to look like you had been beaten to a pulp?  Standing up quickly, he secured his hold on the rifle, and pointed it toward Jackson.  “I think I have heard all that I needed to hear to put you away for life Jackson!” 

Jackson held up his hands in defense and backed away from Avery.  “Now, wait a minute, Leroy.  Don’t get your panties in a wad.  You really didn’t hear nothin’.  Avery had me repeat what he did… that’s all it was,” he lied through his teeth.

“And I’m a cute princess in a tiara in her birthday suit,” Al yelled out as he bounced up on his feet.

Al moved closer to Sam and held up the handlink.  “Ziggy says that… oh no, Sam.  This isn’t good.  She says that the guard, Leroy Manney gets shot and that Avery… you still die!”  Al looked over at Jackson to see him moving his hand back behind him toward his hidden derringer tucked in his pants.

“SAM!”

“WATCH OUT!” Sam yelled but in the next instant, all that he could see was two bodies jumping toward Jackson.  Sam couldn’t believe his eyes and he just blinked at the sight before him.  Two men landed on Jackson and rolled around on the ground, wrestling the gun away from him.  By the time that Jackson was put to the ground, Sam was able to finally ascertain who it was that jumped him from the crates above:  Frank and Will.  “Boy, am I glad to see them,” he muttered softly.

Al bounced up on the balls of his feet as he looked down at the handlink in his hand. “HA!” he said happily.  “Jackson here has the next life sentence here in prison and you Sammy, boy, are set free.  Oh, listen to this, Sam.  Leroy Manney gets a promotion and is on his way to being the next warden.  And Frank and Will… well, well, well, how cute.  Frank ends up marrying that cute nurse Natalie and both he and Will end up becoming truck drivers.”

Sam grinned at his partner and shook his head.  “What about these guys?” he asked as he guard turned and placed the gun back on them.

“These guys,” Leroy replied, “are going to their cells right now and then are going to be tried again for assault and battery… adding time to their sentences,” he said plainly.

“What about… what about Avery?” Sam asked quietly as he glanced over at Al.

“Oh, Avery!  He, of course, got set free.  In a few years, he marries a young woman by the name of Jessica Dalton and has a couple of kids.  He goes back to college and gets his interdisciplinary degree, his PHD and is a professor at a local college.”

Sam smiled at the news as he felt the familiar sensation filling him.  He brought his hand up and waved at Al with a small half-chuckle crossing his lips.

“See you soon, Sammy Boy!”

Al watched as his friend vanished before him and the image around him faded.  He stood in the middle of the Imaging Chamber and wondered just how long it would be again until he would get to see his friend once more.

PART NINE

Even after sleeping a good solid eight hours, Al’s dreams weighed heavy on Donna.  She hadn’t called and it bothered him to think that she was out there somewhere without Sam and with Stephen in tow.  At least in the complex, he knew that they were safe and sound but out there in the real world... nowhere was safe; at least were Donna and Stephen were concerned.  They were his best friend’s wife and son and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to them.

Looking over to see Beth sleeping, he slowly and methodically crawled out of the covers and grabbed a robe and quietly sneaked out of our room.  Opening the door of their quarters, he left and headed to his office.  Once there, he opened the laptop and look at the screen for a moment before he said, “Ziggy, list all the possible places that Donna might be,” he said with a yawn and closed his eyes.

Opening his eyes, he looked to see a list that was progressively getting longer and longer by the second.  “Stop!” he finally said.  The list immediately halted on a place that he seriously doubted that Donna went to:  Zimbabwe.  Shaking his head, he said, “Ziggy, how about we list the probable places that Donna would go with Stephen within this state.”

“Nice parameters, Admiral,” she said with a haunting smile touching her words.

Al shook his head and saw that the list was much shorter.  Approximately, five places, and the closest was her father’s house.  Picking up the phone, he dialed the number and waited for an answer.

Hearing a hello on the other end that sounded like the little tyke that he knew and loved, he said, “Hello Stephen, my pal!  Can I talk to your mom?”

“Uncle Al!” Stephen exclaimed.  “Can we come back to the project?  Grandpa Wojohowitz is driving me nuts with stories from the war.  Can we please?”

“Sure, buddy.  As soon as your mother says that you can… you can, okay?”

“Uh… oh… okay,” Stephen sounded a little down at that, but he accepted it. 

“Is your mom there?”

“Yeah, just a sec.  MOM!  MOM!  Uncle Al is on the phone!”  Stephen laid the phone down and walked through the house, knowing how Grandpa Wojohowitz didn’t like him yelling, and yelled anyway.  “MOM!  UNCLE AL IS ON THE PHONE!”

Donna put the book that she had been reading down on her lap and rolled her eyes.  Standing up, she placed the book on her chair then went back inside the house.  “Stephen, hush.  You know how Grandpa doesn’t like you to yell.”

“But it’s Uncle Al.  He wants to talk to you.  He said we could go back there if you say that we can.  Can we pleeeeease?”

“Oh honey, let me talk to Uncle Al first, and we’ll see, no promises, okay?” Donna replied.

Stephen frowned and scuffed his shoe then leaned against the wall in the hall.  “Okay.”

Donna picked up the phone in the kitchen and cleared her throat.  “Hello Al.”

“Hello, Donna,” Al said softly then sighed.  “Listen, I know that you wanted to help Sam.  I understand that much.  You love him more than I do.  But you know that I’m not going to let anything happen to him.  If anyone were to leap into him, it would be me.  Not you.  Not Stephen.  Not Sammy Jo.  I am stubborn and hardheaded when it comes to Sam, but Donna, you know as well as I do that it wouldn’t have been fair to Stephen to lose his mother in Time… and to gain a father that he never met before.”    Al heard a sniff on the other end of the phone.  He didn’t know if it was an ‘I’m about to cry sniff’ or an ‘I’m still ticked at you and I’m not listening’ sniff.  “Won’t you come back to the complex?  We need you here.  We want you here.”

Donna sniffed as tears rolled down her face, she knew what he was saying was right.  As much as she loved Sam she still had to be there for Stephen.  He was her son, and Sam’s son and she had to do what she could and the best that she could to always be there for him.  Even though she knew if something were to happen to her that Stephen would be well looked after by Al, Beth and Sammy Jo, but Stephen was her true flesh and blood.  “Oh Al, it’s not your fault.  I am as stubborn as you are about Sam and I guess I wasn’t really thinking straight.  I guess the strain of not having Sam around was too much for me.  I couldn’t bear to know what he was going through.  Is everything okay?  Is he still there?”

“He’s leaped last night and he’s fine.  Everything worked out just fine.”  Al stopped and looked down at his desk and said, “Donna, will you please come back to the complex?  Please?”

Donna was so glad to hear that Sam was out of that situation.  She hoped that his next leap wouldn’t be a bad one.  In hearing Al’s plight for them to return to the complex, she sighed, knowing that those people at the complex were as much a part of her life and Stephen’s life as they were Sam’s.  She knew they cared and loved them as much as they loved them.  “I’ll see you in a few hours,” she said softly.

“WHOOOOPIEEEEE!  I’ve got to go pack!”  a young voice yelled out.

EPILOGUE

When does life start? When does life end? One of the great debates in modern society is the definition of life beginning with when is a fetus a human being to when does one turn off the machines for a bed-ridden brain-dead patient. From my own personal perspective crossing back and forth across hyperspace, my life is constantly being turned off and on like a tricky light switch. Existing for a few days as someone else and then nothing. No motion, no thoughts, no feeling, and no breath. Nothing. Feeling nothing except an unending sense of forward motion as my consciousness returned and my senses came back into focus. Life for me begins with usually one of my senses: the sound of human conversation. The smell of a musty basement. The taste of the host’s last meal.  The feel of a stranger’s clothing. Or today, the sight of a photograph - one very large blowup of a very familiar face. Mine.

Standing at the rear of an auditorium, the first sight Sam beheld was an old unflattering photograph of Dr. Samuel Beckett. Above the humongous poster hung a green and blue banner proclaiming  “The American Quantum Physicists Association Convention 1998.” Two hundred people waited in front of the stage murmuring as a middle-aged man wearing glasses stepped up to the podium. The room became deafly quiet as the gentleman began to speak.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Now for our keynote speaker, Dr. Beckett,” he said rather blandly as the entire audience stood up in thunderous applause. From Sam’s position in the rear he strained, but could not see over the heads of the excited audience. Craning his neck in frustration, for the thousandth time he sighed, “Oh Boy!”