Chapter Text
Leaping had its highs and lows. One moment, Sam Beckett could find himself performing on Broadway to a standing ovation…and, the next, he’d be face-down in a mud puddle. Al had told him before that the time between Leaps was actually pretty variable; sometimes Sam would be bouncing around in time for a few hours and sometimes it could be a week. For Sam, however, it was always instantaneous – like falling asleep one place and waking up in another.
This time, upon “waking up,” he immediately wanted to go back to sleep. Pain slammed into him, raw and intense, and he cried out, jolting in shock. Water splashed around him; he was in a bathtub. So why did everything hurt so badly? Had his host been trying to hurt themselves? And if they had, why did he feel it? He rarely felt damage to the body that happened before his Leap.
Before he could scramble to his feet to look in the mirror, the pain blindsided him again. He shouted, his arms moving protectively to his abdomen. He hadn’t felt anything this intense since he’d been in labor with Billie Jean Crockett’s baby – not an experience he wanted to repeat, but this felt just like it, if not worse. The lower half of his body was on fire and before he could catch his breath, he felt it – that sensation, that awful need to push that he’d felt before, and no, no, no…this could not be happening. His body Leaped, and if he’d somehow Leaped into a woman in labor and the baby stayed again, he had no idea how he was going to deliver the child or if he even could. After Billie Jean, Ziggy had gotten curious about the technicalities and theorized that, technically, Sam could have birthed the child – that, in such a case, the law of superposition would override the exclusion principle and allow two bodies to overlap in time and space. Sam had hoped he would never have cause to test the theory.
Except now he most certainly would, as he caught a glimpse of the young girl in the mirror – which was positioned across from the tub, now that he had a second to glance around. She looked as awful as he felt, but he had little time to consider it as the next contraction hit and he felt that impossible to forget sensation of the baby crowning. Within a few moments, however improbably, the child had arrived. The bathtub was filling with blood, but Sam barely noticed as he pulled the newborn to his chest to assess her. She was small, but appeared to be full-term, and she started crying with minimal stimulation. That was good… Clutching her to his chest, he stumbled out of the tub; he felt like he was about to pass out and he couldn’t risk either of them slipping under the water. There was a bedroom across the hall; he hoped it was his host’s. Each step was white-hot agony, but he made it and collapsed into bed with the newborn curled protectively against him. His medical mind was going through additional steps that surely had to follow…delivery of the placenta, clamping and cutting the cord. His body, however, was increasingly numb, beyond the pain that lingered at his core. He pulled the blanket over both of them before he lost consciousness, hoping it would be enough to keep the baby warm until he could recover enough to do something or someone found them and intervened.
“Admiral, we have a problem.”
Al rolled his eyes at Ziggy’s announcement. “When don’t we have a problem? These last few years have been one big problem.” The latest Visitor was in the Waiting Room, a bit panicky, but Dr. Beeks was talking to her, and he’d been waiting for Ziggy to get a lock on Sam so that he could drop in with information. Not that they had much so far; all Al knew was that Sam was a nineteen-year-old girl (oh, he’d be thrilled about that) named Chrissy Woods, from Elm Springs, Illinois, and it was 1991. It was enough to get Sam started while Ziggy ran probabilities as to why Sam was there.
Ziggy made an irritated noise that made Al wonder why they’d even programmed her to be able to do that. “Fine, Admiral, if you’re going to be cross about it…we have an immediate problem. My data indicates that on February 17, 1991, Chrissy Woods gave birth to a baby girl.”
That had Al’s attention. “Shit, don’t tell me he’s going to think he’s pregnant again.” And the date was February 17, which left them very little time. “The baby’s in the Waiting Room with her, right?”
“That…would be the problem.” Ziggy, however, didn’t sound nearly as smug as she usually did when one-upping him. “My initial scan of the Visitor would indicate the physiology who has just given birth – which would probably explain her mental state upon arrival.”
Al frowned, tucking the handlink into his pocket as he impatiently shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the Imaging Chamber to be ready. “So Sam’s got a newborn. He can deal, right?”
“Given his initial biometric readings when I first established the lock, he may have Leaped into Chrissy during the final stages of her labor. Now, if my theory regarding superposition is correct, Dr. Beckett may have successfully delivered the infant, as his current biometrics are significantly more stable. However, they are still…concerning.”
Al didn’t want to argue about the theory or think too hard about where babies went when their mother Leaped out; his immediate attention was on the last statement. “How concerning?!”
“His pulse is far above his average resting rate. As you know, that is the only specific vital sign I can determine from a cursory scan, but his brain wave readings would indicate he is either unconscious or deeply asleep.” Somehow, Al could hear her frowning, which was way too weird but he’d found himself getting used to imagining what Ziggy’s expressions might look like if she were human. Too much time spent around Tina, he supposed, who treated Ziggy as if she were human. “It’s delayed my ability to establish a lock, but now that I have, the Imaging Chamber will be ready momentarily."
Al was already at the door, waiting, ignoring the worried looks Gooshie and Tina were giving each other as Ziggy disclosed more information. “Get me to him. I have to know what’s going on, now!”
“Sam! Sam! Come on, buddy, wake up.”
Sam groaned. Everything hurt and he felt weak as a newborn kitten. Speaking of newborns…he had one mewling against his chest, squirming and rooting around for food. As he regained consciousness, he used the sensation to ground him and tried to focus on Al’s voice. “Al…?”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Al frowned, not even trying to disguise his worry. “I…guess I shouldn’t ask how you’re feeling. You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell.” Sam groaned, trying to brace his abdomen with one arm as he tried to sit up and assess himself, as well as the baby. The placenta, in all its messy glory, had at least been delivered while he was out, and the umbilical cord had stopped pulsing. He needed to take care of that, but finding something to cut the cord probably involved making it to the kitchen…which seemed close but might as well have been miles away. He looked around, trying to determine if there was anything suitable to use at hand. “Guess you can tell Ziggy her theory was--” He paused, hissing at a wave of pain. “…was right.”
“…something like that.” Al studied the handlink worriedly before looking back to Sam. “I’ll look for a phone. Ziggy’s trying to interface with emergency services to send you an ambulance, but it’s taking her a few minutes and you need to get to the hospital.”
Sam nodded. He was no neonatologist, but the baby, while stable, wasn’t as vigorous as he’d have liked to see…and maybe they could give him something for the pain. “What happened…originally?”
Al’s expression was grave as he studied the readout from Ziggy. “Chrissy – that’s you, Chrissy Woods – apparently was either in some serious denial or really didn’t know she was pregnant somehow. Guess it doesn’t matter which. She freaked out and left her baby on the neighbor’s porch…there weren’t any Safe Haven laws yet, and even if there had been, who knows if she’d have had the presence of mind to take advantage of them.” His face fell even more as he slapped the side of the handlink to continue the report. “Unfortunately, it’s February, and by the time the neighbor got home from work, the baby didn’t make it.”
Sam’s eyes filled with tears as he glanced at the baby in his arms, who was weak but rooting around, looking for something to nurse on. He was afraid she was out of luck with him; she’d have to wait until they got to the hospital to have her first meal. But at least he could spare her the cruel fate that awaited her in the original history. He stroked her cheek, tenderly. “That’s not gonna happen this time, honey.” He glanced at Al, holding the baby a little tighter. “So, I get to the hospital. Baby lives. Great. Please tell me that’s it.”
“Hope so.” Al growled at the handlink in frustration. “Chrissy…well, she never got help either. The next morning, she was found unresponsive – postpartum hemorrhage, Ziggy says – and she couldn’t be resuscitated, either.”
Sam tried to stand, but his first attempt wasn’t promising. With the symptoms he was registering in his mind – the weakness, dizziness, chills – he was pretty sure getting to a hospital would save not only Chrissy, but himself. “Al…I think I’m hemorraging…” Now that he was able to look at himself, his body was his own again – no more crossover with Chrissy. Which meant that if he continued to bleed, it would all be internal.
“Ziggy, step on the interface! We need an ambulance here yesterday!” He made an exasperated noise at her response, which Sam, of course, couldn’t hear. “I don’t care if this podunk town only has four damn ambulances, get one of them here!” He turned back to Sam, a calmer façade taking over, as if Sam hadn’t just seen the previous reaction. “Unfortunately, Ziggy thinks you might be right, especially since Chrissy’s fine in the Waiting Room. Sore, but with all her reproductive system looking average for the immediate postpartum phase. But God knows what the switch-off might have done to you.”
“At the very least…there had to be blood vessels established that would have been torn or left without an outlet when we separated…” Thinking, theorizing, helped Sam stay calm and strengthen his resolve. He’d do this for the baby, no matter what. The innocent little girl in his arms deserved him giving his all. “…find the phone, at least I can make a plan for how to get to it…” The ambulance crew could cut the umbilical cord; he didn’t have the strength to try to work out two trips, even in this tiny apartment.
Al nodded, heading into the next room. He reappeared a minute later, his frown even more intensified. “Living room. But Ziggy says there’s no phone service – dammit!”
The minimal furniture in the bedroom suggested Chrissy, or whoever she was living with, was barely getting by, so it probably wasn’t surprising that the phone bill hadn’t been paid. “Shouldn’t it still call 911?” Sam was struggling to focus around the increasing pain and dizziness.
“Yeah, in theory, but these tiny towns, there’s no telling.” Al shook his head. “Even if it’s mandated in an area, sometimes these smaller systems aren’t set up for it.”
Sam debated settling the baby in the laundry basket until he could return to her, but he didn’t know for sure if he’d be able to return to the bedroom. And if they couldn’t call for help and they needed another plan, he wanted her with him. “Gotta try.” He held the infant close, using his free hand to shakily brace himself. Leaning against the wall, hobbling along, he managed to make it to the couch, grabbing for the phone on the end table. No dial tone at all. Stabbing at the buttons, he hit 9-1-1, still desperately hoping, but nothing. “Neighbor?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath.
Al shook his head sadly, his concern undisguised. “No, it’s a two-unit building, and the neighbor is the same one who didn’t make it home from work until too late. And Chrissy lives alone, because of freaking course she does!” He was pacing, smacking at the handlink.
“Where…” Sam gestured vaguely at the window. The exertion had taken a lot out of him and he needed to keep his questions simple and direct, save his energy for his next move.
Fortunately, Al knew him well enough to follow. “Elm Springs, Illinois. Basically, freaking nowhere, but officially about twenty minutes from Peoria. Which is also not exactly a happening town.”
Peoria…something about that city sounded familiar. Sam vaguely recalled Leaping there once, but that wasn’t it. Something on the edge of his Swiss-cheesed brain struggled to recall it, but he was also having trouble thinking about anything beyond the next few minutes at the moment. He probed his stomach with his fingers; it was swollen and tight, a sure sign of significant internal bleeding. He wasn’t in hemorrhagic shock yet, but that wouldn’t be far behind, and once it set in, he probably had about two hours left. Which he was sure Ziggy could tell Al…Sam knew Al was stressed enough as it was. No need to add that tidbit to it yet. If Chrissy was fine in the Waiting Room, then if Sam died, in theory she’d return to her body and survive. It wasn’t a theory they had tested yet, by any means, and Sam had no desire to. The other Leapees he’d been trying to save along with himself had mostly died via traumatic means, which meant they’d have had that situation to return to upon Sam’s death. In theory, if he died from a medical complication, the Leapee could return and resume their life…
Either way, at this point, Sam figured he might have saved Chrissy simply by Leaping in. Her baby, however…no matter what, he had to save that little girl and his window was increasingly narrow to do so. “Anything close?”
Al sighed, sitting down on the floor. Sam was grateful that he didn’t appear to be going anywhere, but when Al got eerily calm like this, it was a sign of how dire the situation had become. Sam preferred to see him getting upset over the little things. “Ziggy’s checking. Realistically, how far could you make it?”
“Not far,” Sam admitted, putting his finger in the baby’s mouth for her to suck on so he could at least soothe her while he tried to think of a way to get help to them both. It was the only time he wished breasts had come along with the female package so he could at least feed the poor thing. And he hated thinking of her as just “her.” She needed a name. And, while when she was adopted, it would no doubt be changed by her family, he figured if he’d birthed her, however improbably, he had the right to name her for now. Typically, he would have considered this responsibility at length, even if it was only a temporary name. He’d always believed names and their meanings carried a lot of weight. But one popped into his head immediately and it felt perfect. “Shh, Thea…I’ve got you.” From Althea, a Greek name that meant “healer.” He had no idea where his Swiss-cheese brain had pulled it from, but it felt special…and right. “I’m gonna get you out of this somehow.”
Al frowned a little at the name. “That what you’re calling her?”
“Yeah…why?” Did Al know something Sam couldn’t remember?
“Nothing…it’s pretty.” Al faked a smile, then looked back to the handlink. “There’s a medical clinic a half mile from here…which might as well be Egypt, the shape you’re in. Ziggy’s still working on getting into the EMS system, but according to her, it’s like trying to use a tin can phoneline to make a long-distance call. But…hang in there, buddy. We’ll figure something out.”
If Al could fake optimism, so could Sam. At least if they stayed inside for now, if he didn’t make it, Thea would have a chance. She wouldn’t be left at the mercy of February’s weather. It wasn’t much, but it was a sliver of hope until they thought of something or Ziggy came through with a plan to save the day. “Al…if I don’t make it, how long does Thea have?”
Al shook his head firmly. “Don’t think like that, Sam. You’re gonna save her and Leap out of here to go keep saving everyone else.”
“Ask Ziggy,” Sam insisted.
“Sam…”
“Do it.” Sam glared at Al with all the ferocity he could muster at the moment.
Al nodded, reluctantly consulting the handlink. “Eighty-nine percent chance she’ll at least make it until the neighbor’s home. He hears her crying and comes over. She’s dehydrated, but she’ll survive.” His eyes widened. “Then that should be it! You should be Leaping now.”
“Unless it’s not just to save her…” Sam honestly didn’t know what else could be expected of him right now. He certainly didn’t always understand the whims of God, Fate, Time, or Whoever had taken control of his Leaps. I’ve always done what you asked…what more do you want from me?
“Yeah.” Al sighed, throwing the handlink against the Imaging Chamber wall in frustration. From Sam’s perspective, it just ricocheted back to Al after passing through a lamp. “Ziggy, she’s working on it.” He glared at the ceiling. “And she’d better hurry it up!”
Sam’s eyes felt heavy and as much as he worried if he fell asleep, he’d slip into unconsciousness and then a coma as shock progressed, he couldn’t really fight it. His gaze trailed to Al, his lifeline now more than ever. “Al…stay with me?”
“Always, Sam,” Al promised. “You don’t even have to ask.”
In the Project Quantum Leap Control Room, Donna Elesee was in tears. Sam’s condition was the primary reason, of course, as well as the fact that she couldn’t be there with him. She couldn’t even see him unless she was in physical contact with Al in the Imaging Chamber, and she wasn’t willing to risk that. If Sam saw her and remembered her suddenly, there was no telling what it would do to him in his fragile state. No, she’d have to watch and wait, as always.
And then there was Thea. She was listening in to the Imaging Chamber, hanging on to every word from Al’s side of the conversation as Ziggy attempted to fill her in on Sam’s. Sam had named the baby Thea, and as heartwarming as that was, it was like a dagger through her all the same. After struggling with and accepting her infertility, they’d tried to adopt once…in fact, in the same year Sam was now. They’d been matched with a mother – in Peoria, no less, as if Fate were really trying to rub her nose in it – and, after the birth, the mother had decided to keep her baby. It was her right, of course, and Donna tried not to blame her and wished them both well. It just hurt like hell. They’d discussed trying again, but then things had picked up with Project, and here they were now. Baby Jack – the boy’s name they’d picked, after John Beckett’s childhood nickname – would have been eight now, whatever his name really was, and Donna still thought of him sometimes and hoped he was happy. And if they’d had a girl, they’d planned to name her Thea. Somehow…Sam remembered, whether the proximity in time and space had released that in his mind or something else had.
“Oh, Sam,” Donna murmured, keeping her eyes firmly focused on Ziggy’s console to avoid the pitying looks the others keep shooting her way. “Hang in there. I love you.”