Copyright and Author's Rambling

Quantum Leap belongs to Don Bellisario.  I'm not sure who owns M*A*S*H, but it's certainly not me (Larry Gelbart, maybe?).  Either way, I don't own any of the shows or the characters (although I do own Leah "Baby" Brighton and the patients scattered throughout Pre-Op, Post-Op, and the O.R.).   I've been watching Quantum Leap since this summer and M*A*S*H since a few weeks ago, but I caught on very quickly.  I'm not an expert at science, medicine, or military protocol.  If I make any mistakes, please correct me.  And don't sue me, please.  I've got nothing to give you but my twisted mind.

During the eleven seasons that M*A*S*H was on the air, there were several cast changes.  The people at MASH 4077 during this time are Captain Hawkeye Pierce, Captain B.J. Hunnicutt, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, Major Margaret Houlihan, Major Charles Winchester, Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger, Corporal Radar O'Reilly, and Father John Mulcahy.

Even though the other Quantum Leap story I'm currently writing takes place post-Mirror Image (with Admiral Albert Calavicci married to Beth), this story is written to reflect the Al we saw for five seasons (lewd, lecherous, skirt-chasing, cigar smoking, sincere, loyal, and all those other good qualities Al possessed).

L*E*A*P 4077

Theorizing that a person could travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum accelerator … and vanished.  He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own, and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better.  His only guide on this journey is Al, a hologram from his own time that only Sam can see and hear.  And so Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next Leap is the Leap home.

            As the blue light from the Leap In faded, Dr. Samuel Beckett blinked to get his surroundings into focus.  He (or his host, whomever that was) was sitting behind a desk.  A white-haired man in an Army officer's uniform stood in front of the desk, and a woman in a dress taken straight out of Gone With the Wind leaned nonchalantly against a door.

            "Well, Radar, what did the general say?" the officer asked.

            Sam glanced at Scarlett O'Hara, half-hoping that she was Radar and could save him from unavoidable embarrassment.  When he noticed the officer glancing at him and gently coughing, he gulped.

            "Um, he said … he said he'd have to get back to us, sir," Sam finally said.

            The officer's forehead furrowed in confusion.  "Get back to us?" he inquired.  "It was a yes or no answer."

            Sam nodded.  "Well, sir, this is a very difficult and involved decision," he improvised.  "God forbid he should make a mistake."

            "Horse hockey!" the officer shouted.  "What's so hard about supplying a medical unit with hot water compresses?"

            Sam shrugged.  "Beats me, sir."

            Scarlett O'Hara knocked on the threshold of the door.  When the officer nodded, she sashayed up to the desk.  "May I have a word with you, Rhett?" she asked the officer in a fake Southern accent.  "I seem to have misplaced my emerald broach." 

            Upon closer inspection, Sam noticed that his Scarlett O'Hara was more of a Rhett Butler.  "That's a man?" Sam muttered to himself.

            "Yes, I'm a man!" the ex-Scarlett exclaimed.  "I'm a corporal in the U.S. Army who parades around in women's attire.  Everyone tells me I'm nuts."  He glanced at the officer.  "I should get my Section 8, Colonel.  Nutsos like me don't belong in a respectable institution such as the Army, you know."

            The colonel rolled his eyes, signifying to Sam that this was not a new occurrence.  "Klinger," he addressed the cross-dressing corporal.  "If you think people are going to think you're nuts, than you're really nuts."

            "Colonel, Colonel, Colonel," Klinger pleaded in the fake Southern accent.  "Whatever shall I do?  Wherever shall I go?  I'm too crazy to stay here."  He pouted in the colonel's direction.

            In reply, the colonel pulled himself up to full height and looked Klinger straight in the eye.  "Frankly, my dear," he replied in a deep voice.  "I don't give a damn!"

            "Careful, Potter," a man piped in as he entered the room.  "People might start to mistake you for Clark Gable."  His companion, a tall man with a cheesy mustache, grabbed Klinger and led him in a tango across the floor.

            "Oh, boy!" Sam groaned.  "I'm in the Cuckoo's Nest!"

* * *

MASH 4077th

Ouijongbu, Korea

June 5, 1952.

            "And you're just figuring that out now?" Colonel Potter said.  "Done with surgery already?" he inquired.

            "Fifteen glorious hours in the Ritz Plaza," the first man answered haggardly.  He leaned up against the corner of the wall.  "Tonight, a certain Nurse Julie and I will be in the honeymoon suite overlooking Chez Latrine," he yawned.  "And tomorrow night, you can find me with a sexy Korean girl at the Four Seasons, across the street from the Marriott Mess Tent."  He squinted and gently massaged his temples.

            "Are you feeling okay, Hawk?" the mustachioed man asked.

            The man known as Hawk blinked and forced himself to open his eyes.  "I'm … I'm fine, Beej," he assured his companion.  "It's just a little too bright in here, that's all."

            Sam instinctively approached Hawk.  "You probably have a migraine."

            "I feel fine," Hawk panted.

            "Bull crackers!" General Potter said.  "Your face matches the walls perfectly.  If someone's not careful, they're liable to hang a painting on your nose."

            "How long have you had that headache?" Sam asked.

            Beej and Klinger laughed.  "Playing doctor again, Radar?" Beej ribbed.  "I know some girls who would love to play the lucky nurse."

            "Ziggy, are you sure this is the right location?" a raspy voice asked.  "This looks more like a funny farm than a MASH unit."

            "Al!" Sam exclaimed, turning to give the hologram an I hate when you do that look.

            "Al?" Beej asked quizzically.

            "Al … Al find you a sexy nurse for your own game of doctor."

            Beej shook his head.  "Sorry, Radar, I'm a married man."

            Hawk grinned.  "Oh, I'm sure Radar wouldn't mind sharing company with two ladies at once."  Sam figured that if Hawk didn't seem so worn out, that wisecrack would have had more "charm" to it.

            Admiral Albert Calavicci floated past Hawk and winced.   "Geez, Sam, this guy looks like a corpse."

            "I'll be right back," Sam informed the group.  "Latrine de Louvre awaits my arrival."  As he exited, he saw a slight rash on Hawk's left hand.

* * *

            Sam and Al exited the room and wandered outside.  The room they had been in was connected to the building that housed Pre-Op, the O.R., and Post-Op.  There were several khaki green tents in the surrounding area.  One had a sign that said Mess Tent, and one said Showers.

            "Al, did you know that you're the brightest thing here?"

            "You're the genius, pal, not me," Al replied, removing a cigar from his breast pocket.

            "I meant your clothes," Sam said, referring to his friend's bright red suit and matching fedora.  "Not your intellect."

            "Let's go into the Mess Tent," Al suggested.  "It's usually empty this time of day."  He floated through the side and poked his head back out, cutting his body in half.

            "I hate when you do that," Sam complained.

            The observer ignored him.  "There's a few nurses, but that's about it," Al informed the leaper. 

            When Sam had settled himself at a table in the far corner of the tent, he emitted a gentle cough.

            Al's bushy eyebrows scrunched in worry.  "Are you catching whatever that guy has?"  Sam shook his head.   "You haven't been in this Leap long enough to get sick."

            "Why am I here, Al?" Sam inquired.

            "Why are you … oh!" Al whipped out a multi-colored hand link and began to answer the questions that were customary at the start of every Leap.

            "Your name is Corporal Walter O'Reilly, and you're the company clerk …"

            "They called me Radar," Sam interrupted.

            "Ah, yeah, that's your nickname," Al explained.  "This kid seems to know about things before they happen.  Sort of like you," he added, flicking ashes from his cigar.  As the ashes hit the ground, they vanished.  "Only he doesn't have a hologram from the future to guide him."

            "Where am I? When am I?  Why …" Sam prodded.

            "As I was saying," continued Al.  "You're the company clerk at MASH unit 4077 in Ouijongbu."  Sam gave him a bewildered look.  "MASH stands for Mobile Army Surgical Hospital.  Today's date is June 5, 1952."

            "But Al, I wasn't born until August of 1953.  I can't leap before my own life time."

            "Remember when we switched places?"

            "Something to do with a lightening strike," Sam said.

            Al pressed the cigar to his lips.  "You're probably able to leap in my lifetime, too."

            Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed a blonde woman enter the Mess Tent, accompanied by two men.  Al wolf-whistled.  "Sam!  Would you look at those casabas?"  He walked toward the woman, a lecherous expression on his face.  "And those lips … I'd give anything to kiss those hot lips."

            "Al!" Sam called out quietly.

            Admiral Calavicci shook his mind of the gorgeous female officer and turned his attentions back to the mundane task of helping Sam.  All right, Sam's Leaps are almost never mundane, he reasoned.  But I'd give anything to hop into bed with that little number.  "The men you were with before are …"

            "Klinger, Colonel Potter, Hawk, and Beej.  Interesting names," Sam commented.

            "Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, Captain B.J. Hun …" Al whacked the hand link with his palm, causing it to emit a squeal.  "Hunnicutt.  And Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce.   Otherwise known as Hawkeye Pierce.  He's the chief surgeon."

            "Why am I here?" Sam wanted to know.  Of all the preliminary questions, this was always the most important.  Once he did what God or Time or Fate or whatever sent him leaping around through time placed him here to do, he would leap out of here and into some other life.

            "You know, sometimes I ask myself that very same question," a voice said.

            Sam looked up at the two men and the woman who had just entered.  The man who had spoken wore a silver cross.

            "Father Francis John Mulcahy, base chaplain," Al supplied.  "The others are Majors Charles Emerson Winchester III and Margaret 'Hot Lips' Houlihan."  He chuckled.  "Seems that 'Hot Lips' has been in the Military all her life.  Her father was an officer."

            "Good morning, Father," Sam greeted the priest.

            "Morning has passed," Major Winchester said in a stuffy and elite Bostonian accent.  "Good afternoon to you, Corporal."

            "Radar, Colonel Potter wants to see you," Major Houlihan informed the leaper.

            Sam stood up.  "Do you know why?"

            Margaret shook her head.  "Apparently, you left during the middle of a conversation.  You do understand that you are not supposed to leave without being dismissed by a superior officer, don't you?"  Her uniform was neatly pressed, her hair was pulled back in a professional bun, and her posture was at perfect military attention.

            Al inhaled the aroma of his cigar, a smell that Sam was more than happy to pass up.  "Major Houlihan is the most 'military' of all the officers in this camp."  He snorted.  "I don't believe it.  A woman!  Ain't that a kick in the butt?"

            Sam glowered at the hologram, before turning his attention back to Major Houlihan.   "I'm sorry, Major.  It won't happen again."  Why am I here? He mouthed to his observer.

            "Ziggy still hasn't told us yet," Admiral Calavicci admitted.  The hand link flashed and squealed.  "Beeks is having trouble getting information out of the kid in the Waiting Room.  I'm gonna see if he'll talk to an officer in uniform."  His eyes wandered to Margaret's busty form.  "Meanwhile, you take care of things here.  Tell the colonel that you forgot to feed your turtle.  Radar's devoted to his menagerie."