Chapter Text
Quantum Leap
“Day Tripper”
“Al, honey. Please come home.”
Purposely not looking at the screen of his vid-phone, retired Naval Admiral Albert Calavicci shook his head, and continued typing at his computer.
“Al?” the caller queried. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Still here.” He knew without looking that tears were running down her face. She kept her voice steady, but they’d had this conversation, or a version of it, so many times he could almost say exactly what she was going to. “It’s been ten years,” he thought to himself. “He’s not coming back.”
“Sweetie, it’s been ten years. Much as we all miss him, and wish it wasn’t true, Sam just isn’t coming home.”
Al finally made himself meet the eyes of the woman on the phone. As he’d expected tears were glistening on her eyelashes, and even as he watched one slipped free and coursed down her cheek. He’d kissed that cheek more than a few times, and he’d truly rather be with her now instead of hundreds of miles away.
“I can’t,” he said, his throat thick with emotion. He cleared it, and tried again. “I can’t. I can’t just...give up on him, Tina. Don’t you understand? Sammy is my best friend. And he’s lost out there somewhere. I have to be here, in case he comes back.”
They were repeating themselves, but they both kept trying, hoping they could make the other one see things their way, hoping that what was left of their marriage might survive a bit longer.
“It’s no way to live,” Tina protested.
This was new. Al turned away from his computer to frown at his wife. “What do you mean?”
“Out there, alone. It’s no way for you to live.”
He made a small snort of derision. “I don’t play well with others,” he stated drily. This variation from their weekly conversation had him rattled – what was Tina saying? Was she going to offer to move back to the Project? Was this just a ploy, intended to make him feel so lonely that he’d finally admit defeat, and join her out in the “real world”?
“Al,” she chided, “be serious. We both know you don’t like being alone.”
“I have Ziggy,” he protested.
“You have a tenuous connection to what’s left of her,” Tina corrected. “There’s barely enough of her programming left to keep things running. But you need more than a few brief conversations with an artificial intelligence. You need human contact.”
Al grinned, and a familiar gleam came to his eye. “You got that right,” he said seductively. Human contact, especially with his beautiful, curvaceous wife, was one of his favorite pastimes.
“Oh, Al,” Tina giggled.
God, how he missed that sound! There hadn’t been reason for her to smile, much less giggle, over the last few months. He felt an aching inside, a need to hold her tightly in his arms, breathe deep of her scent, listen to her heart beat. He closed his eyes against the nearly physical pain of wanting her, and was only slightly startled to feel a tear work loose.
Why was he doing this? He was torturing himself and Tina, risking their marriage, and for what? The Project Sam had developed was so top secret the government had no proof it even existed. Four and a half months ago they had finally gotten tired of funding something that was essentially invisible. To say Al was irate at this decision would only be scraping the surface of his feelings.
Everyone else involved in the Project, even Tina, had eventually moved away. Al alone had stayed, paying the electric bills out of his own pocket so the Project wouldn’t be entirely shut down. But he was just barely keeping afloat – power had been cut to almost all the buildings, leaving just one wing of the bunker that served as living quarters, and the main housing of Ziggy up and running.
There was no way he could afford to keep the super computer fully powered, so he’d had Tina put it into a type of stasis, or hibernation, keeping just a few basic functions operating.
That had been a very painful and emotional decision. Sam had designed Ziggy himself, giving the computer a little of his own personality and a lot of his intelligence, something which had never been accomplished before. Al never quite understood just how his best friend had been able to do that, nor was he entirely sure he wanted to.
Because Sam had created it, the computer was essentially his baby. Its artificial intelligence had allowed it to “learn” and “grow” over the years; at some point it had decided to take on a female persona, and communicated with Project members in a breathy, sultry voice. (Al strongly suspected she’d been influenced by Marilyn Monroe, but whether that was her choice, or something Sam had programmed in, he wasn’t certain.)
Ziggy was responsible for monitoring Sam’s travels through time, ascertaining what small problems he could fix in the timeline he was in at the moment, while also making sure he didn’t, as Al had once put it, “royally screw things up” for those at home in the present.
That was no easy task, but Ziggy liked to say that with her million gigabyte capacity she could perform a trillion floating point operations while concurrently rubbing her proverbial tummy and patting her proverbial head. In other words, it was a snap.
When it came time to put her to sleep, as it were, the human members of the Project weren’t the only ones having a problem with the decision. Ziggy knew that without her, Al wouldn’t be able to use the Imaging Chamber to go back in holographic form to give his friend any assistance. They could follow Sam through time with a basic tracking program, but they wouldn’t know if his life was in danger, and wouldn’t be able to do anything if it was. Not only that, but Ziggy would lose contact with those she’d come to consider her family.
“It won’t be forever,” Tina had tearfully promised. “Somehow Sam will get back home, and we’ll all be together again.”
At Ziggy’s request, Tina had left a small portion of her most basic programming running so she could stay in communication with Al. She had no voice capabilities – they had to correspond through Al’s personal computer in a manner much like internet messaging, but that was sufficient for both of them.
That was what Al had been doing, in fact, when Tina called. Since their conversations had become rote, he continued “chatting” with Ziggy while he and Tina talked.
Now he typed “Tina’s changed tactics.”
“How so?” Ziggy responded.
Since he had no one else, Al spent a lot of time talking with the super computer. He didn’t consider it talking to her, because she responded in real time. He, of course, had told her of his phone calls with his wife, and Ziggy had listened, responding to his emotions accordingly.
“Well, we did the whole Sam’s-not-coming-back routine, but then she threw in the fact that I’m alone out here.”
“Oh?”
“Well, physically alone, I mean. Yeah, you’re here. But I can’t hug you.”
Part of the non-essential programming that had been powered down affected Ziggy’s ability to respond with snappy comebacks, something Al was secretly hoping would not be restored. Somehow being sassed by a highly evolved super computer was worse than when Sam got in a zinger.
“I see.”
“Al? What do you think?” Tina asked.
Al blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry, honey. What?”
“I suggested that maybe Verbeena should pay you a visit,” his wife repeated. She frowned, and sighed, adding, “I really wish you’d turn your camera on, Al. I want to see you when I’m talking to you.”
Al echoed her sigh and shook his head again. They’d been over this, as well. Tina didn’t understand his reasoning for not using the webcam; he claimed it was because he couldn’t figure out how to get it to work properly.
The truth of the matter was he didn’t want Tina to see him. He knew, beyond a doubt, that if she saw how haggard he looked, how gaunt and worn-out his face was from long, sleepless nights and days of eating only when Ziggy reminded him, Tina would show up at the Project and bodily haul him out. Giving him a lecture the entire time, of course.
So he lied. Sort of. “You wouldn’t want to see me, Tina. I’ve been wasting all that government money on lobster and steak. I’m a regular porker.”
Tina’s frown deepened.
“Honest. I’ve just been sitting here all these months stuffing my face.” Which was extremely far from the truth; he’d actually lost fifteen pounds since the Project had gone dark.
Her frown darkened.
Al flinched. He didn’t like lying to her. He loved her too much to hurt her that way. “No? Ok. The truth is I’m bald. Completely and totally without hair.” He winced even as he said that, as if speaking the words would make it come true. Tina loved his thick black hair, even as it started to give way to grey and began to recede.
“Al...” Somehow she made his name more than one syllable, and there was no mistaking the threat in her tone.
“All right, all right.” Al sighed, hands up in surrender even though she couldn’t see him. “You want the truth?”
“That’d be nice,” she assured.
“Fine. The truth is...I look like crap, Tina. I could be an extra in a zombie movie without make-up. My eyes don’t just have bags, they have a whole set of matched luggage. I no longer have whites, I have reds. I stabbed myself six times trying to punch a new hole in my belt.” He paused, waiting for her reaction. When she didn’t reply, he typed to Ziggy “Something’s wrong,” then looked back at the monitor. It was blank. Tina was gone.
“Damn,” Al sighed, pushing back in his chair and getting up. He leaned forward to quickly type “I’m going to take a nap,” then he left his office and walked the long, cold empty corridor to the elevator.
He knew Tina was concerned about him, but he really wished she wouldn’t be. He had rather hoped she’d...well, she could never forget him, but he wanted her to move on with her life, put the Project behind her. Deep down he knew he was only prolonging the inevitable – one day soon he’d have to shut everything down completely, and leave his very best friend in life stuck forever in the past. Al knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself when he did that, which was why he was trying to get Tina to give up on him.
He rode the elevator back up to the crew level and got out, still deep in thought. So deep, in fact, that he didn’t see the woman standing in front of the door to his quarters until he nearly collided with her. He came to such an abrupt stop to prevent that from happening that his shoes squeaked loudly on the floor.
“Sorry,” she apologized, pushing a lock of long, dark brown hair behind her ear.
“What are you doing here?” Al asked, then cringed; that came out a bit harsher than he’d intended.
“Well, I came to see you, actually,” his unexpected visitor stated, backing up a step, “but if this is a bad time...”
He chuckled without humor, then explained to her frown, “Sorry. Interesting choice of words. No, this isn’t a bad time. I always have time for you. Come on in.” He fished his key out of a pants pocket and unlocked the door. Even though he was the only one living at the Project full time, former members still dropped by once in a while. Not to visit, or to try talking him into leaving (The last one who’d made that mistake was still about a week away from being able to eat solid foods again.) but to run diagnostics on the life-support systems, electrical systems, and the like. As a result, Al still kept the doors to his quarters and his office locked when he left. Old habits.
As he opened the door and then stepped aside, he remarked, “Frankly, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you detested this place.”
Dr. Donna Elesee walked into his quarters and headed for the couch. “I don’t hate it, Al,” she denied. “There are some memories I’d rather not stir up, but...” She sank onto the couch, the fingers of her right hand absently turning the wedding ring on her other hand.
Al recognized that gesture. Closing the door, he walked over to sit next to her, and put a hand over hers. “What is it, Donna?” he asked with concern.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath, closed her eyes briefly and said, “Our anniversary’s in two weeks, Al.” Her voice came out strained, and when she opened her eyes Al wasn’t surprised to see tears slide free.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry, Donna. I didn’t know.”
Holding him tightly, she sighed, her head on his shoulder. “It’s ok, Al. Wherever Sam is, he probably doesn’t remember. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Sammy always amazed me with the things he’d remember. Some things, like my drinking, I’d rather wished he’d forget.” He closed his suddenly very moist eyes. “But he always remembered you. Sometimes, out of nowhere, he’d ask how you were doing.” He groaned inwardly. Lying was getting way too easy.
“Really?” Donna doubted, pulling out of the hug. She started to dry her eyes with her thumbs, but Al got up to get her a tissue.
It also kept him from having to meet her eyes; she’d be able to tell he wasn’t being truthful. “Oh, yeah. Some days one of the first things he’d ask would be if I’d talked to you lately. Of course, I had to be careful what I told him.” He handed her the tissue, then went into the kitchen to get her a glass of water, his stomach suddenly churning. He glanced at his watch. 1400 hours. Not too early for a drink. He added some ice to her glass as he tried to remember the last time he’d eaten. He knew from much experience that booze and empty stomachs weren’t the best of friends. He was about to call out to Ziggy, to ask her, when he remembered she couldn’t hear him. With a sigh and a shake of his head he headed back out to Donna.
A moment later a voice called out of the ether “Admiral?”
Al very nearly dropped the glass in shock. He carefully set it on the table and glanced at Donna, eyebrows high, and she looked at him with an equally surprised look. Well, at least he knew he wasn’t cracking up if she’d heard it, too, he thought to himself, with some relief.
Before he could think of how to respond, he noticed a strange shimmer in the air just past the couch.
“Admiral, can you hear me?”
Donna followed his gaze, spun up out of the couch and moved backwards to stand next to him, unsure of what the apparition was that they were facing.
He had to clear his throat twice to get his voice working properly. “Yeah, I...I can hear you. I...we can’t see you, however.” He squeezed Donna’s arm slightly, then took a step forward, his back straightening as he put a bit of command into his voice. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“You can’t see me? Damn. We’ll have to see if we can boost the gain on the imager. Hang on...”
Al took another step forward, and repeated himself tersely. “I said...who are you, and what do you want?”
The shimmering voice seemed startled when it answered. “It’s me, Admiral. Sammy Jo.” There was a pause, and a sound like someone was hammering on metal, and then “There. Is that better?”
Al gave a wry snort. “Oh, much. Now instead of a clear shimmer, you’re a white shimmer. Sammy Jo...what the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to get this damn Imaging Chamber up and running,” she answered. More hammering, then a loud electrical zap and a vehement curse came out of the thin air.
Al nearly chuckled – that was an all-too familiar sound – but her matter-of-fact tone froze his voice in his throat.
“You’re what, honey?” Donna asked, stepping up alongside Al and facing the white shimmer.
“Donna? I didn’t know you were home!”
Donna closed her eyes briefly and swallowed tightly. “I just got in tonight. I...wanted to talk to Al about...something.” She looked down as his fingers wrapped around hers, and then smiled damply at him.
“Me too! I mean...well, I wanted to tell you, too, but I didn’t know you were home, and I wanted to make sure everything was working properly before I made any kind of big announcement, and then I figured I’d have to get a hold of everyone to let them know, but that would have to wait until I did get it back up and working and...”
This time Al did chuckle. “Sammy Jo? Breathe.”
There was another pause, and then she let out a chuckle of her own. “Sorry. Rambling, wasn’t I? I can’t help it! I’m just so excited!”
“So we gathered. Excited about what, exactly?”
“I know how to get Dr. Beckett home!”
Al was silently thankful he was still fast enough to catch Donna as she fainted.
Like Donna, Al had many memories that he strove to keep buried. Unfortunately the section of the Project they were heading towards just now was loaded with them. He steeled himself as best he could as the door rose to admit them to the room known as Main Control, and felt Donna stiffen slightly next to him. He gave her hand a quick reassuring squeeze, then let her go in first. He fought down the surge of emotions as he followed her in, and the door slid shut with that familiar metallic thunk.
After Donna had come to, they’d agreed to meet Sammy Jo here because she was right in the middle of a tricky procedure and couldn’t leave. When last he’d left this room, everything in it was dark – the console where the technicians, including his wife, worked, the large sphere hanging from the ceiling that housed Ziggy’s speech center. The “heart” and “brain” of the Project, as they’d come to be known. It had nearly broken Al’s heart to see them shut down, just one more nail in the proverbial coffin. But now they were back up and running.
Well, almost. The console was half lit, and those lights were pulsing dully. Ziggy’s brain was glowing faintly, which Al realized was due to the minimalist programming still running. Back when the Project was still active, that sphere had coruscated with blue light and flickered with energy. The whole room had hummed with it, and the air around the mountain the Project was built inside crackled with lightning almost constantly, which could be seen for a long way off on a clear night. And yet somehow they’d never had trespassers.
“Sammy Jo?” Donna called out, looking around. Her gaze slid quickly past the large door opposite the one they’d come in, the door through which Sam had begun traveling through time back in 1995. Whenever she was in the room, she avoided getting too near the Accelerator Chamber. It was a constant reminder of what she’d lost on that fateful day, and the one brief day she’d had him home.
“Over here!” Sammy Jo’s voice answered from somewhere...under the main console. Al and Donna walked around the structure to find a pair of overall-clad legs sticking out from a large opening. “Be out just as soon as...ouch! Damn!” There was another loud zap, and Sammy Jo scuttled backwards out of the console and got to her feet, a large scowl on her face and the back of the first knuckle of her index finger in her mouth. “Dammit, Ziggy! I’m trying to fix you, you cantankerous pile of bolts!”
Al chuckled and shook his head. Ziggy had been called that, and worse, before, and never took offense. Sometimes he suspected she sent out those little zaps on purpose; she could cop an attitude at times, from petulant to stubborn, and a wide range in between. Mood swings in a hybrid computer.
“I’m very sorry, Dr. Fuller,” a thick voice apologized. With a start, Al realized it was Ziggy that had spoken. Or a version of her, anyway. She almost sounded...drugged.
“Well, be a little more careful next time, all right? Wait until I’m clear before you test the circuits.” Sammy Jo examined the scorch mark on her finger, shook her hand a couple times, then turned to her visitors. “Hi,” she said belatedly.
“Hi,” Donna replied, amusement creeping into her tone. “Ziggy up to her old tricks?”
Sammy Jo grinned and patted the console. “Apparently she thought my heart needed a bit of a kick-start.”
Al looked up at the sphere and muttered, “You didn’t tell me you could talk again.”
“You didn’t ask, Admiral,” Ziggy retorted.
“I would’ve been sorry I had,” he shot back, a small grin working its way onto his face for the first time in months.
“If you two are done with the verbal sparring...” Donna started.
“We haven’t even gotten started, Doctor,” Ziggy cut in.
“Hush.” Donna’s light humor faded as she turned to face Sammy Jo. “What in the world is going on here? What do you mean you think you can get Sam home? How long have you been working on this? Why didn’t you tell anyone else?”
Undaunted by the barrage of questions, Sammy Jo crouched and replaced the panel over the access hole, then straightened and pushed a lock of her shoulder-length sandy brown hair behind an ear. The rest of her hair was tied back in a braid, and in profile she looked so much like Sam that Al’s breath caught in his throat. He gripped the edge of the console tightly, willing his emotions to stay in control.
“I didn’t say I thought I could, I said I know how. I’ve been here about a month, and like I said, I didn’t want to tell anyone until I was certain.”
“How is it you’ve been here a month and Al didn’t know?”
Al cleared his throat. “I...well...I don’t get out much.” He shrugged, a slightly sheepish look on his face. “Sorry. I haven’t really...had a reason to come down here.” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes briefly, feeling the sting of tears again. He opened his eyes when he felt a hand settle on top of his, and smiled at the concerned look on Sammy Jo’s face.
“I understand, Admiral. And it’s ok, really. There wouldn’t have been much you could’ve done to help me, actually. Most of what I’ve been doing is rewriting programs, and running tests.”
“I could’ve asked Tina...”
“It’s ok,” Sammy Jo repeated. “I like working alone. But if you wouldn’t mind calling her later, I’d appreciate it. There’s some stuff I’d like to go over with her...” She trailed off when she saw the pained expression on his face. “Is...is everything all right, Admiral?”
Al forced a smile. “Yeah. We...we just talked a little while ago, actually. Our...weekly phone call. But, sure, I’ll call her later if you want.” He cleared his throat, slid his hand out from under Sammy Jo’s, and offered, “In fact, why don’t I go do that now? I’ve got a feeling whatever...theory you’ve cooked up is gonna be too damn confusing my old brain to follow.”
“Don’t bother,” a new voice said from the doorway. “I’m here.”
It suddenly felt as if his world had been dipped in ice; everything seemed to come to a standstill, including his heart, and his whole body broke out in gooseflesh, from the inside out. He slowly turned to face the door just as Donna hurried across the room, her arms wide for a hug from her best friend.
“Tina!” she exclaimed, hugging her close. “It’s so great to see you!”
Tina embraced Donna just as tightly, grinning that grin that lit up her whole face. “It’s great to see you, too! God, I’ve missed you!”
Sammy Jo glanced at Al, and he managed a tight smile. Then he cleared his throat and moved towards the two women. “Do I get one of those?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
Donna let go of Tina and stepped aside. Tina looked him over for a few moments, then grabbed him and pulled him to her, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to say anything.
There was a loud noise like a semi downshifting, which startled everyone, and then Ziggy said, “Welcome home, everyone.”
Tina’s jaw dropped open and she stared up at the faintly glowing sphere. Al reached out a finger and gently closed her mouth, then slid an arm around her waist and nodded at Sammy Jo. “Ask her,” he said simply.
It took Tina a few moments, but she finally managed to ask, “What did you do?”
Sammy Jo’s grin faded. “I...I was just...” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “I was trying to fix her. So we could get Dr. Beckett home.”
Tina blinked slowly and shook her head just as slowly. “You were trying to do...what so you could do what?”
Sammy Jo swallowed audibly, worried now that she’d over-stepped. She’d been working at the Project for only a few years, but everyone had been impressed with the speed with which she caught onto things, and she had, on more than one occasion, found a solution to a tricky problem that no one else had been able to solve. She’d overheard the Admiral comment one day that she was “off-the-charts smart,” probably second only to Dr. Beckett, which had thrilled her no end; she’d wanted to work with Dr. Beckett ever since she’d found an old issue of TIME magazine that had featured him on the cover. She’d read the article over so many times she’d had it committed to memory, and greatly admired how down-to-earth he remained, even as he was being lauded as one of the top minds of the century.
She’d been at the Project long enough to learn just how important Dr. Beckett was, and how much he meant to everyone who worked there. And it wasn’t just that he mattered to those who were now gathered in Main Control – even the guards and other technicians were concerned about his well-being, and wanted to get him home. She’d heard so many stories of his giving nature, of how he’d take time from his busy day to listen to someone’s problems and do what he could to help them.
But there was one story in particular that meant more to her than any of them, and that was the story of how Dr. Beckett and the Admiral had met years ago at another project. Dr. Beckett was fairly new to the project, and he’d walked in one day to find the Admiral, drunk and angry, beating on a vending machine with a hammer. Dr. Beckett had taken the hammer away and smiled at the Admiral, and then sat down and listened to his story. And then he’d gone out of his way to stand up to the government for this man he’d only just met, to help him keep his job, because he could tell that the Admiral was, in his words, “a pretty terrific person” under the booze and anger.
Sammy Jo wasn’t sure just what it was about that story that moved her so much, but since the day she’d first heard it, she’d been more determined than ever to find a way to bring the doctor back home to those who loved and missed him.
When she wasn’t on duty, she would spend hours working at her computer, running scenarios, poring over all the records Ziggy had of how the Project was developed and built, of what had happened the day of that first Leap, and the day that Dr. Beckett had briefly come home. She knew there had to be a way to fix the retrieval program, a way to lock onto him no matter where or when he was in time, and bring him back home.
She thought she’d finally had a breakthrough, and was all set to run her theories past Ziggy, when the government had cut funding. There’d been no warning – one day the Admiral had gotten a phone call, which had caused him to smash the handset into pieces, rip the phone out of the wall and throw it across the room, and then the power had been cut. The backup generator ran for a week before it was out of gas, and then that was it. Project: Quantum Leap was, in effect, dead in the water. Everyone eventually moved out; even though none of them wanted to abandon the doctor there wasn’t anything anyone could do. The Admiral did his best to keep things running, but Sammy Jo knew it was just a matter of time before he was out of money. She had a feeling, so strong it was almost a certainty, that the Admiral would sooner die than leave his friend stuck forever in time. So she was going to do everything in her power to keep that from happening.
Now she closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow, deep breath, willing herself to relax. Then, facing those gathered, she laid out her plan for fixing the retrieval program, locking onto Dr. Beckett, and bringing him home.
“She’s crazy,” Al said.
“I don’t think she’s crazy,” Donna protested, passing the platter of meatloaf down the table. “Dedicated, yes. But not crazy.”
Taking the platter from her, Tina put a couple slices on her plate, then handed the meatloaf to Al. “Don’t we all have to be a little crazy to work here?” she questioned, only half joking. “Actually, I think her idea could work. The only thing standing in her way right now is not having enough power to run the program.”
Al took a slice of meatloaf and reached backwards to set the platter on the counter. They were having a late supper in his small quarters, after Tina and Donna had run to the grocery store for supplies, and he’d managed to get a short nap in. “And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Getting the power. It’s not like she can just...send a check to the electric company and they’ll flip the switch. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned...we don’t exist.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Donna protested.
Al raised an eyebrow. “No?” He waved a hand to indicate not only the military-style bunker they lived in, but the whole mountain facade housing the Project. “We’re out in the middle of the New Mexican desert, in a giant glowing mountain, and yet...we’ve never once had to deal with unwanted guests. None of us has friends outside this facility.”
“We all have PO boxes,” Tina put in, “even for the address on our driver’s licenses.”
Donna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She’d been one of the first to move away after the shut-down, and had nearly forgotten how isolated everyone who worked on the Project was. She looked over at Al, and the guilt impacted her heart like a physical blow. He hadn’t left. For nearly five months he’d stayed here, alone, in the hollow shell of a once-active project, while everyone else had tried to restart their lives. And what had that separation done to his relationship with Tina? She looked over at her friend, trying to read her body language, trying to tell if there was any tension between them. But all she could detect was deep concern for Al’s health, which she could definitely understand. She realized with a start when she took a moment to really look at him that her friend was suddenly showing his age, and she felt another pang in her heart. His hair was completely grey now, and had receded quite a bit since she’d last seen him. His dark brown eyes looked haunted, and bloodshot, and his face was so very pale.
“I’m sure she’ll come up with something,” she finally said. “With her parentage...” Suddenly she trailed off as something came to her.
“I don’t think she knows,” Al said, somehow reading her thoughts. “And I don’t think I want to be the one to tell her.”
This was his...tenth Leap since he’d last seen Al. At least, he thought that’s how long it’d been. Sometimes his memory was clear, sometimes he could barely remember his own name. He’d been worried, of course, when Al didn’t come back. He’d also been angry for a while, but he’d gotten over that. Al would never abandon him. Even when Sam had been stuck in the mental institute, suffering from the after-effects of a severe electroshock treatment, Al had kept coming back, even though his use of the Imaging Chamber was draining power.
Maybe that was it, Sam thought. Maybe something had happened at the Project and Al couldn’t use the Chamber. Some kind of...catastrophic power loss. Once they managed to get power back, Al would show up. He’d be tripping over himself trying to apologize, Sam would razz him a little, and things would go back to the way they were. He hoped.
For now, he’d just...muddle through on his own. So far that had worked, even though he wasn’t really sure just how it was working. After all, in the past he’d had Al to tell him what small thing he had to change in someone’s life in order to “complete his mission” and move on to the next one. Now he’d just...live life as whoever he’d replaced, until he felt that familiar tug and tickle signifying he was about to Leap out. Sometimes it was only a few days, once nearly a month, and one time he could have sworn he’d only been...wherever he was for an hour.
Being on his own had sharpened his powers of observation; now within a few moments of arriving in his new host he started looking for clues to when if not where he was. Small things like the temperature and how people were dressed helped, but every once in a while he lucked out and saw a newspaper shortly after he Leapt in.
This time he was a stuntman on a television show. He’d shown up just as his host had fallen off the top of a building, and only had seconds to react as he plummeted to the giant mattress out of camera range. His martial arts training took over, and he landed safely as the director yelled “Cut!” Someone helped him get back to his feet, and the director said, “Ok, that was good. I wanna do it one more time, and this time if you can scream a bit louder, that’d be great.”
“Oh, boy,” Sam muttered to himself as he walked around the back of the set and began the climb back to his position.
Sammy Jo spent a feverish week and a half working on restoring power to the Project. She’d discovered a reservoir of sorts that Dr. Beckett had built to shunt the excess energy into that the Project had generated; he’d designed it to be used like a giant generator, in case of a catastrophic failure. Much like the backdoor code he’d created for the Imaging Chamber, it wasn’t something the other members of the Project knew about. She’d only stumbled across it when going over an old set of blueprints. The problem was tapping into it safely, and channeling the energy back into the Project.
But with Ziggy and Tina’s help, she’d finally managed to leech off some of the stored energy and had gotten the Imaging Chamber back up and running. At least, she hoped it was running properly. Until the Admiral was inside the Chamber and they tried locking onto Dr. Beckett she couldn’t be sure.
If this failed, her only other option was to wait for a severe electrical storm and “pull a Doctor Frankenstein,” as she’d jokingly told the Admiral. He gave her an odd look at that suggestion, as if unsure whether she was kidding or not. A lightning strike certainly would supply enough energy to power the Project again, but it would most likely also fry anyone using any of the components at the time. Not her first option, that was for sure.
Al fidgeted. He’d never gotten used to the dizziness that washed over him every time they powered up the Imaging Chamber and began scanning for Sam in the stream of time. And he really wasn’t feeling up to it this time. His body was trying to get used to regular meals again, his sleep was still messed up (although he was getting to bed at something closer to a decent hour, thanks to Tina, who was also responsible for his eating better) and he felt a migraine coming on. Add in the fact that Sammy Jo hadn’t been able to tap quite enough power to fully charge the Chamber, and he just knew this wasn’t going to end well.
And he was right. Two minutes after the cycle began, he’d barely managed to key in the sequence to raise the door and hurry out to the nearest garbage can in time. Sammy Jo gave him a glass of water and a couple aspirins, gave him a couple minutes to “regain some color,” as she put it, then she’d asked him to try again.
This time was a bit better, but he still felt like he’d left his stomach behind when the swirling ceased and time stabilized around him. “Ok, it worked,” he called out, then he started walking, hoping to find Sam quickly.
The sight that greeted his eyes made him doubt his sanity. This couldn’t be the right time. Sam had never Leapt back this far...
All around him were people in clothing that could only be described as medieval – peasants, well-to-do merchants, pirates, lords and ladies meandered in and out of shops, food booths, and a surprising number of taverns. He paused outside a shop as a rather...buxom woman in a bodice that made his lungs ache in sympathy came out, tying her newly purchased straw hat in place with a wide green ribbon under her chin. He watched her walk away, then shook his head and continued on his way, passing through some of the oblivious people as he scanned the crowd for a sign of his friend.
“Sammy could be anywhere in this mess,” he muttered to himself, following a stream of people towards a large arena. As they drew nearer, some of the people climbed into wooden stands that surrounded the arena, while others moved to stand near the barricade around it. Al stretched up on his toes to see what the attraction was.
It looked like a royal joust was about to begin; there were two mounted knights at either end of the tilt, the fence-like wooden barrier that separated them. Al turned to scan the crowd, hoping to find his friend seated among the spectators, or possibly sitting on the royal dais.
He’d Leaped again. Now there was something heavy sitting on his head, obscuring his vision. Just as he started to lift a hand to try to adjust or remove...whatever it was, he realized he was...sitting on a horse. And carrying something large and very heavy in his left hand. And a split second after that realization came another, very frightening one – someone was charging towards him, on an armored horse, with a lance lowered and aiming straight at him...
When he’d seen the fourth person in modern clothes sitting in the stands, it only took Al a moment to figure out what was going on, and he chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll be damned,” he said quietly, “he’s at a Renaissance fair.” Just as he said that he heard an all-too-familiar holler of “OH BOY!” and spun around in time to see a knight knocked backwards off his horse by the impact of the other knight’s lance hitting him in the chest.
“Sammy!” Al shouted, running to the fallen knight and bending over him. “Sammy? Sam? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
The dazed knight blinked through the small slit in the visor, lifted his head slightly, then groaned and lowered his head. “What..?” he managed.
“Aw, geez, Sam. You took quite a hit. Can you move?”
The other knight was off his horse now, and advancing, pulling his sword free of the scabbard with a flourish and raising it high so the sun glinted off the blade. There were shouts of appreciation from the crowd, and a few boos and catcalls. The knight on the ground sat up halfway, saw his enemy advancing on him, and scuttled backwards, bumping into the tilt. Using the upright, he pulled himself to his feet, fumbled for a moment, and drew his own sword. Before he had to defend himself, however, a loud voice called out “Hold!”
The other knight drew to a halt, but it was clear he wasn’t happy about it. The unhorsed knight slumped on the tilt, trying to catch his breath as the voice boomed out again.
“You shall return to the field of honor at five of the clock to conclude your duel. Your loyal subjects will return as well to cheer you to victory.”
People began to file out of the stands, but Al was more concerned with his friend. “Sammy? Buddy, can you hear me?” He waved a hand in front of the knight’s face, and frowned when he got no reaction. “C’mon, Sam. Tell me you can hear me.”
The knight reached up with both gauntleted hands and lifted the helmet free, shaking his head slightly and blinking in the bright sun. Slowly he turned his head in Al’s direction, but his gaze swept right past him and continued around the ring.
“Al?” Sam asked in a low whisper. “Al, is that really you?”
Al nearly wept with joy. “Oh, thank God Sammy! Yeah, buddy, I’m here. I’m right here.” Al stepped forward, right through the tilt, and stood directly in front of Sam. “Sammy?”
“Al? Where are you? I can hear you...”
Al groaned. “I’m here, pal. We’ve been...ah...having some...issues with the Imaging Chamber.”
“You’ve been gone a long time.” Sam drew in a deep breath and looked around, spotting someone leading his horse out of the arena. The other knight was heading in the same direction, towards a white building, and Sam figured it must be the stables. He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go next, until the young woman leading his horse stopped and turned to look at him.
“You all right, Dan?” she asked with concern.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me,” Sam assured her with a slight smile.
“I bet. Well, come on. Let’s get you out of that armor so you can shower and rest before the last match.”
Sam stretched, feeling the aches starting to creep in. “Good idea.” He followed her, thinking only of a hot shower, and maybe a nap. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this weary. Armor wasn’t exactly light, and getting knocked off a horse by a direct lance hit didn’t help matters.
Al followed Sam silently. There’d been anger and accusation in Sam’s statement, and he wasn’t sure this reunion was going to be a happy one. And what could he say? Tell Sam the truth, that the government had gotten tired of pouring money into a Project that they had no proof existed, and had shut them down? Or fudge the truth a bit, and just tell him they’d had some “technical difficulties” but everything was ok now? Either option was sure to make Sam even angrier, and right now all Al wanted was a few quiet minutes with his friend. If he even had that much time.
As Sam walked into the building, he was surprised to see it was actually a facade; behind the wall were a series of stalls, into one of which his horse was being led, but there was also a small area off to one side where a table was set up with a couple wooden folding chairs, and that was it. Two short walls on either end, but the whole rest of the structure was open. He looked around, wondering where he’d have to go for the promised shower.
He hadn’t said anything else to Al, and wasn’t even really sure his friend was still there, or had even actually been in the first place. He couldn’t see Al, and he might have been hallucinating hearing him. He’d just been knocked off a horse, after all. Hearing voices wouldn’t be unusual.
“There’s a camp shower over on the other side of that wall, Sam,” Al’s voice said quietly. “To the right of the table. Jeanine, the one taking care of your horse, will be over in a minute to help you out of your armor. She’s your squire.”
Sam frowned. “Squire?” He looked over to the stall, where Jeanine had gotten the tack off the horse and was rubbing it down with a burlap sack.
“Well, she’s actually your son’s girlfriend, but during the performances she’s your squire. Your name is Dan Lee, and you’re part of a traveling company that goes from Renaissance fair to Renaissance fair, performing jousts and other...knightly deeds.”
Sam sighed. He could hear the hurt in Al’s words, and was about to apologize to his friend when the young woman came over to him.
“Damn. Tommy got a good hit in. Gonna take me a while to get the dent out,” she said, examining his breastplate. “Well, let’s get this off so you can go shower.” She wrinkled her nose as she started working on the buckles. “You smell like canned meat.”
Once free of the armor, Sam pulled the sweat-soaked tunic over his head as he walked to the shower. He fully expected to hear the Imaging Chamber door open, but by the time he’d stripped and stepped into the small shower stall, he realized that whatever was wrong back home was affecting more than just the holographic projection of his friend – he hadn’t heard the handlink chirp when Al had called up the information, and he never heard the code being entered to open the door. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and took his shower.
Al blinked. One second he’d been about to say something to Sam, then next he was facing the four white walls of the Imaging Chamber. He swore under his breath, keyed the sequence to open the door...and nothing happened. He tried again, with the same result. “Ziggy,” he called out. “Open the door, please.” He waited, but got no response. “Great,” he muttered, stabbing the buttons on the handlink in a futile attempt to get the door opened. “Just what I wanted, to get stuck in this damn room.” He sighed heavily and slid the defunct handlink into his pants pocket. “They’ll open the door,” he told himself. “Sammy Jo said they’d give me a half-hour to find Sam, and then they’d open the door if I didn’t report back by then.” He glanced at his watch, and groaned. “Twenty-five more minutes? What in the hell am I going to do for another twenty-five minutes??” With a frustrated growl, he eased down to sit on the floor, his back against a wall. He put his head back and closed his eyes, hoping the tension would leave his body.
Once again, Sam was on his own. At least this time he knew his name, and what he did. What he was there for was still a mystery, but he didn’t worry about that. What did worry him was Al’s appearance. Or...lack of appearance. Something very serious was going on back home, that much he was sure of. There had been glitches before, little hiccups that prevented Al from being able to give him information, or even coming back in a timely fashion, but nothing like this. Al always showed up at least once during a Leap. Sam couldn’t remember a time, until recently, when his friend hadn’t been there. But it was what little conversation he’d had with Al that really concerned him. He hadn’t meant to snap, but he had felt abandoned.
There’d been something in Al’s voice, something other than hurt when he’d told Sam his current host’s name. Something almost like...defeat. And that was one emotion Sam never thought he’d hear from his friend. After everything Al had gone through – serving in Vietnam, being held prisoner of war, being declared dead by his first wife, the alcoholism that followed – he’d still managed to find a reason to go on. He’d overcome it all, and was that much stronger for it. But now...
Sam tried to convince himself that he was probably imagining things, maybe even projecting his own despair. He wanted it to be over. He wanted, more than anything, to quit, to never have to live someone else’s life, fix their mistakes so they could have a better life. It was his turn, dammit! Didn’t he deserve a little “happily ever after” himself? He sighed and shook his head as he closed his eyes and tried to get a quick nap before the next performance. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired, both physically and mentally.
Sammy Jo stepped into the Imaging Chamber, and stopped. The Admiral was slumped against the far wall, and at first she feared the worst, until she noticed his chest rising and falling with regularity. With a quiet sigh of relief she went over to wake him up. She paused again and studied him. She’d always loved his colorful wardrobe, but today he’d picked something a bit more solemn than usual – black slacks and shoes, a deep plum shirt with silver tips on the collar, and a black bolo tie. Sleep had eased some of the lines from his face, and she realized, with some surprise, that he was rather handsome. She’d never really thought of it before; even though she’d been working with him for a couple years, she’d never really looked at him quite that way. He certainly didn’t look like he was 70.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her with a crooked smile. “Resting my eyes,” he said, trying to get up. “Damn. Leg’s asleep.” He stretched his right leg out and rotated his foot. “Hate when that happens.”
She offered him a hand and helped him stand, letting him lean against her until the pins-and-needles passed.
“I found Sammy,” he said, happiness and just a hint of relief in those three simple words.
“Oh, good!” They left the Chamber together, walking down the ramp to Main Control. “Everything worked, then?”
He set the handlink back in its base and shook his head. “Not quite. He could hear me, but he couldn’t see me.” He seemed about to say something else, but closed his mouth and shook his head just slightly.
“Oh. Well, that’s a minor glitch. The main thing is we can lock onto him. Let me run a couple quick scenarios, then, if you’re up to it, I’ll have you go back in, and we can run the retrieval program.”
“Sounds good. Do you need me to stick around?”
She shook her head, her fingers already flying over the keys. “That’s all right. I’ll call you when I’m ready. Should be about...an hour, hour and a half. Why don’t you grab a quick bite?”
The Admiral smiled. “You’re sounding like Tina,” he teased. He patted her hand and then left Control.
“Someone needs to watch out for him,” Ziggy commented. She was sounding much more like her old self now that she had more power, and was also feeling more like her old self.
Sammy Jo frowned as she ran a computation. “What do you mean?”
The super computer sighed. “I’ve known Al a lot longer than you have,” she answered, being surprisingly familiar; like Sammy Jo, she usually referred to her creator and his best friend by their titles. “He’s been down in the dumps before, but I’ve never seen him this bad.”
Disturbed by the tone of the computer’s voice, Sammy Jo stopped what she was doing and looked up at the brightly glowing blue sphere. “You don’t think he’d...do anything? I mean...we’re about to bring Dr. Beckett home.”
“I’m not sure. I would hope not, but...” Ziggy was silent for a few moments, then said, “I won’t claim to be an expert on human behavior; much of it still baffles me, even though I’ve been around them for a decade. But one thing I can say with certainty is they are unpredictable. Self-sacrifice, especially for one they care deeply about, is not unheard of.”
Sammy Jo felt her stomach clench at just the thought of the Admiral doing something to hurt himself. And that made her even more determined to get Dr. Beckett home.
The question of why Tina wasn’t in Main Control was answered as Al let himself into his quarters, and found her in the small kitchen.
“Well, this is quite domestic,” he said as he closed the door and crossed to the couch, which he sank down into with a groan.
“Figured you could use a bite to eat,” she answered, bringing in a plate with a sandwich and a large chocolate chip cookie for him.
“Sammy Jo called you, didn’t she?” he asked suspiciously as he took the plate from her.
She frowned. “No. About what?”
Al sighed and shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry, honey.” He looked at the sandwich uncertainly. “It looks fantastic, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Tina’s frown deepened. “Why?”
He caught the edge in her voice and hurried to explain. “Because the first time she keyed up the sequence I blew chunks.”
“Oh.” Tina made a face and started to take the plate away from him. “Well, if you’re going back...”
He held onto the plate, however. “Not for another hour. And...actually? I’m hungry.” He grinned and took a large bite of the sandwich. Tina watched him for a moment, then sat next to him on the couch.
“So...did it work?”
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. On the second try.” He shook his head. “We located Sam, and get this – he’s a knight in a Renaissance fair! Armor and everything. In fact, when I got there, he’d just gotten knocked from his horse by the other knight. He’s ok, though. Just got the wind knocked out of him.” He ate some more sandwich, then said, “And now Sammy Jo’s running a couple scenarios before we try again. She really is a genius. With any luck we’ll get him home.” His throat tightened suddenly with emotion, and he set the plate down, the sandwich only half eaten.
“In time for their anniversary,” Tina said quietly.
“Yeah.”
Forty minutes later, Tina gently shook Al awake. As he frowned blearily at her, she said, “It’s time, honey.”
He groaned and rubbed his face. “I’m getting too old for this,” he complained as he got to his feet. He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, avoiding his reflection as much as possible, then dried his face and sighed heavily. Closing his eyes briefly, he said quietly, “I hope to God you come home, buddy.”
He and Tina headed for Main Control together. As deep underground as they were, they both still jumped when an enormous peal of thunder cracked overhead. Al keyed on his wrist communicator as they picked up their pace. “Ziggy? Was that thunder?”
“Yes, Admiral. A rather severe thunderstorm is heading our way.”
Tina looked at him, fear dancing in her eyes. Remembering Sammy Jo’s earlier crack about emulating Frankenstein, he asked, “Do we need to put this off?”
Sammy Jo answered him. “We shouldn’t have to, Admiral. Ziggy says the worst of it won’t get here for another half-hour. We should be able to locate Dr. Beckett, lock onto him and run the retrieval program well before then.”
Al swallowed any comments he was about to make about Ziggy’s weather-predicting abilities as the elevator ground to a halt and they disembarked. Trying to quell the uneasiness that was stirring in his gut, he hurried down the hall, ducking to get under the door as it rose.
“Then let’s get this over with. I really don’t fancy turning into a lightning rod.”
The bolt of lightning that struck the Project just as Sammy Jo activated the retrieval program lit the room up like a small sun. Al had one brief moment to scream and shield his eyes, and then his world exploded around him in a vast whiteness.
Sammy Jo had been intent on the monitor, watching the numbers slowly ticking backwards from 10. All of the calculations she’d done over the last month and a half had led to this moment. After the Admiral had locked onto Dr. Beckett the first time, she’d made minute adjustments to the program. Now there was a stronger connection between the two of them, and Ziggy would be able to get a better lock.
A split second after Sammy Jo threw the switch to start the process, the computer let out a shrill squeal as the lightning, reaching a temperature of over 55,000 degrees, coursed down through all of her wiring, super-heating her circuits, melting some of them instantaneously. The sphere exploded, the console Sammy Jo was standing at erupted in a shower of sparks, and all of the doors blew out of their frames.
Sam woke up with a strangled scream, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he couldn’t catch his breath. Before he had a chance to get his bearings, he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Stunned, he slowly shook his head and looked around. The room he found himself in was dark, except for a pair of emergency lights glowing above a door. As he sat up and got a better look at his surroundings, he realized he was dressed in something very form-fitting. Now his heart started to speed up, but for a totally different reason than the nightmare that had awakened him.
Was he awake? Or was this one of those terrible dreams where you woke out of one nightmare, but were really still dreaming? The way his mind had been, as Al put it, magnafluxed by traveling through time he couldn’t be sure of what was reality anymore. He lifted his right hand to take hold of...whatever he’d been sleeping on, and saw that whatever he was wearing was white, and fit him like a second skin.
“Ok, get a grip,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe I just Leaped again. I might just be wearing a white turtleneck.” Getting slowly to his feet, he looked down....and his knees went instantly weak and he almost ended up sitting on the floor again. Grabbing the waist-high table behind him, he took a couple deep breaths. “Ok....so...either this is the world’s first full-body turtleneck, or...I’m actually wearing a Fermi suit.”
He looked around again, squinting in the weak light. There was the window to the Observation Room. No one was there now, but that could just mean it was after hours. He couldn’t remember, but he didn’t think the...visitors were monitored 24 hours. At least, not by humans.
“Ziggy?” he called out tentatively. When his super computer didn’t answer, he frowned, and called out a bit louder. “Ziggy? Hello?” Still not receiving an answer, he wondered what had happened. The last thing he remembered was taking a shower and laying down for a nap. Now, suddenly, he was...well, home. Maybe. It sure looked like the Waiting Room. With his stomach and heart threatening to switch places with each other, he slowly leaned over and looked into the mirrored finish on the table.
“Oh...my...god,” he breathed, reaching his fingers up to lightly run them over his face. “How long have I been gone?” The very next thought that went through his head had him lurching for the door, trying to fight the dizziness that was sweeping over him. The door opened at his approach, and he stumbled out into the hall, blinking rapidly in the sudden brightness. Only one word came to him now, one name echoed through his head. “Donna.”
After some minutes, Tina painfully got to her feet; she’d been knocked across the room by the Imaging Chamber door, and she thought that her right arm was likely broken. But all that mattered now was getting to Al. Smoke and sparks filled the room, and there was a high-pitched keening noise coming from overhead. Coughing from the acrid smoke, she staggered over broken bits of the console, trying to make her way to the Imaging Chamber.
Something loomed out of the darkness in front of her. Her heart in her throat, she stumbled to a halt, afraid she was going to run into something. A hand reached towards her, and she managed to squeak out “Al?” A sob worked its way up her throat as tears began to fall.
Donna had been jolted out of bed when the Project was struck. She fumbled in the darkness, tried her lamp, then found her flashlight. Flicking it on, she hurriedly pulled on her robe and slippers, then made her way out of her bedroom. Just as she reached the door to her quarters, there was a loud thump against it. She let out a startled gasp, clenching the flashlight tighter, then swallowed her fear and opened the door.
She gasped again as a form tumbled through and fell literally at her feet. The beam of the flashlight jittered a few moments until she was able to calm her shaking hand enough to direct the light downwards...and then she nearly dropped it. The person laying on the floor couldn’t be...
She dropped to her knees and cradled his head in her lap, stroking the hair back from his face. “Sam?” she whispered, unwilling to trust her eyes.
His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. He looked up into her face, and smiled. “Happy anniversary,” he said.
“You don’t want to go in there,” a hoarse voice said. “Please, Tina...”
“Sammy Jo? Where’s Al? What happened!?” Tina started forward again, but suddenly there were arms around her waist, pulling her gently away from the ruined Imaging Chamber. She struggled, trying to break free, desperate to get to him. “Let go of me! Al’s in there! I have to get to him! He could be hurt! Please! It’s my husband!”
“Shh. I know. I know...” There was a catch in her voice, and Sammy Jo stopped pulling, but still held her. “I know, but...there isn’t anything...”
“How..?” Donna wondered, shaking her head. She got to her feet and helped Sam to stand, then pulled him tightly to her. “How? How are you home? Sammy Jo said she had an idea...”
Holding his wife close, reveling in the fact that he could hold her, Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know. One minute Al was talking to me, the next...”
Donna looked up at Sam’s face. “Al...” Suddenly her mind cleared, and she remembered. “They fixed the retrieval program, Sam! Sammy Jo...she worked out how to get power back, and she fixed the program. They were going to find you, and then she was...” She trailed off, seeing the confusion on Sam’s face. Instead of trying to explain to him, she took him by the hand and hurried down the hall. “Come on! We have to see if they’re ok! If Al was in the Imaging Chamber when that lightning struck...”
“Oh god...Al.”
Without power the elevators wouldn’t run, so they had to race down several flights of stairs to get to the level Main Control was in. Out of breath, and with a painful stitch in his side, Sam slowed down as they got near enough to see that the door had been blasted open. Dreading what he’d find, he took a couple slow steps forward, peering into the smoke that still hung thickly in the air.
“Hello?” he called out. “Al? Tina? Anybody?”
“Sam!” Tina shouted. “In here, Sam! Please, hurry!”
Sam ran into the room, coughing as the scent of fried computer components and ozone hit him. “Where..?”
Two figures moved towards him, and he reached out a hand to each of them, pulling them out into the clearer air of the hallway. It was Tina, and a tall, slender woman he didn’t recognize.
“Where’s Al?” Donna asked as she came over. Tina turned to her and fell against her, sobbing hard. Donna wrapped her arms around her best friend, feeling her heart sink as she looked over at Sam.
Sam turned to go back into Main Control, but a hand on his arm stopped him. “It’s too late,” the other woman rasped.
“I’m not just leaving him there!” he snapped, pulling away from her angrily. He blundered into Main Control, stumbling over debris until he reached the Imaging Chamber. Half of the ramp leading up to it had melted, so he had to jump to get into the room, grabbing the still-hot doorframe to keep his balance. Biting his lower lip against the pain of his scorched palms, he took a couple short steps. “Al?” he called out. “Al, I’m here. I’ll get you out.”
One of the mirrored panels had shattered when the wall exploded, and Sam stepped carefully across the shards, fanning away the smoke. Finally he saw a foot, and a scorched pant leg. Hurrying over, he moved broken pieces of mirror and wall, slicing his hands in the process, until he had uncovered Al.
“C’mon, Al,” he pleaded as he bent to lift his friend’s inert body. “C’mon, buddy. Don’t be dead. You can’t be dead. You just got me home. Al...c’mon. Please wake up. Please.” Fighting the tears, holding Al’s body close, he turned and stumbled across the Imaging Chamber. Tina, Donna and the other woman were waiting as he emerged, and they helped him get down the side of the ramp that was still solid. They trailed after him silently as he carried his best friend out into the hallway and lowered him gently to the floor.
Sam dropped to his knees and began administering CPR, avoiding the scorched flesh of his friend’s chest as best he could. He knew even before he began that it was fruitless, but he kept trying until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Dad...please...stop.”
He straightened, and looked up, his mind finally realizing... “Sammy Jo?”
She crouched next to him, taking his hand. “He’s gone. I’m sorry, but...he was gone the second I activated the retrieval program.”
He shook his head, tears falling to the ground. “No. He...he can’t...” He swallowed hard. “He can’t be dead...because I came home.”
Three days after the funeral, Sam was sitting alone in his old office, reading a letter from one of the sympathy cards that had just arrived. There’d been no return address on the card, and no postmark, either.
“Dear Sam,” he read, “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. I wish I’d been able to make the funeral, but something came up. I’m very glad you’re home, and I hope everything else is going all right for you now. I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me, Sam, and I want to repay you for your kindness. I know things weren’t...great between us when we first met, but...you saved my life. The least I can do is return the favor. Alia.”
There was a knock on his door, and he looked up as he called “It’s open.”
The door opened and Al leaned in. “Hey. What’re you up to?”
Sam smiled at his friend and indicated the cards. “Just reading some of these cards from people who were at Gooshie’s funeral.”
“Ah. Well...it’s time for supper. You know how cranky Tina gets if we’re late.”
Sam dropped the last card onto the pile as he stood. Clapping Al on the shoulder, he teased, “I highly doubt you’re ever late for one of her meals.”
“I choose to ignore that comment,” Al responded as they walked down the hall together. “Did I mention Sammy Jo has another six places for us to look at?”
Sam moaned. “Six? She’s...really obsessing about this whole...being a family thing, isn’t she?”
Al stopped and looked at him. “Can you blame her, Sammy? I mean...you were gone most of her life. She finally figured out how to get you home, and then nearly lost you with that lightning strike. If Gooshie hadn’t...”
Sam frowned. “Yeah. What was he doing there, anyway? I thought you said he’d moved to Florida.”
Al shook his head. “Honestly, I have no idea. It was like...a stroke of luck that he showed up when he did.” Realizing what he’d just said, he tried to phrase it a different way. “I...I mean...”
“I know what you meant, Al.” As they left the elevator he asked, “Do you remember Alia?”
Al frowned. “I...wait...wasn’t she...the other Leaper?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. I got a letter from her. In fact, that’s what I was reading when you showed up.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah. She said she was sorry she couldn’t make it to the funeral, and that she wanted...” Sam slowed to a stop as something came to him. “Oh. Oh, god...Al...”
“What? Sam, what’s wrong?”
“Alia. She...she said...” He looked at Al. “She said I’d saved her life, and she wanted to repay the favor.”
Al blinked in confusion a couple times, and then finally understood. “D-do...do you think she...”
Sam closed his eyes, but the tears managed to slip free anyway. “I don’t think, Al. I’m pretty damn sure.”
They stood silently together for a few moments, then continued to Al and Tina’s quarters. “Do we tell them?”
Sam shrugged. “Be kind of hard to explain, don’t you think?”
“Explain what?” Donna wanted to know as the two came in.
“Why we were late,” Al replied quickly, kissing his wife on the cheek. “Which...I hope we’re not.”
“Close, but not quite,” she answered, setting the chicken on the table as her friends took their seats.
“That’s a relief. Pass the mashed potatoes, please.”
Sammy Jo slipped a disc into the CD player before she joined them, and as she sat down it started playing. She watched Sam’s reaction surreptitiously, trying to contain her smile.
“Hear me now, o thou bleak and unbearable world/Thou art base and debauched as can be/And a knight with his banners all bravely unfurled/now hurls down his gauntlet to thee...”
Sam nearly choked on his chicken, and Al started to chuckle. Sammy Jo grinned; she knew that they’d played the soundtrack for Man of La Mancha constantly while building the Project.
“More misadventures?” Al asked, repeating a question he’d asked Sam during one of his Leaps.
Sam shook his head. “No more adventures.” He looked around the table, and shook his head again. “I’m home.”