This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon the Quantum Leap television series created by Donald P. Bellisario. Quantum Leap, and all related characters, places, and events, belongs to Bellisarius Productions, and is used without permission. This story, along with any original characters, belongs to the author, © 1996, revised 2005.

Retrieval I: Leapers Weep Not
by Orianna-2000

This story is the first of the Retrieval series. Due to the many inconsistencies in the official QL timeline, I've had to take a few liberties with the chronological aspects of this story. It assumes that Sam first leaped in May of 1995, season four began in late 1999, and "Mirror Image" took place toward the end of 2000. Also, there seems to be a dispute of the precise lyrics for "Fate's Wide Wheel", so what I couldn't personally decipher, I used what seemed most likely considering Sam's situation.

Special thanks go to: Chris DeFilippis for his insights on neural holography, Vicki Wiltshire (aka Imzali) for the chocolate, the entire population of RASTQL for keeping the Leap, and of course, Scott and Dean.

While this story has been available for some time on my website, it has recently been revised. This is the newest, and considerably updated, version.

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Prologue - O Thou Bleak and Unbearable World

New York City, New York
Friday May 10, 1985

She wished it would rain. It needed to rain, according to custom: sunshine for weddings, and rain for funerals. And yet, the sun lit the clear blue sky brilliantly, highlighting a few thin white clouds as a mockery. How unfair.

A friendly breeze played with her dark brown hair, and ruffled the hem of her navy blue sundress, distracting her from the preacher's final words. It didn't matter, though. Nothing he said made sense, nor did it console. All she knew was the emptiness inside, the numbing pain, the tears that wouldn't come.

The gathered people started to scatter, and for a moment she stood staring at the double grave, noticing the deep shadows cast by the bright sunlight. A single tear made its way down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. She had to stay strong, in control. She needed to act grown up, so the adults would stop looking at her with pity.

Someone touched her arm, and she looked up. Her uncle stood there, his face saddened, but his naval uniform crisp and white. She managed a half-smile for him, since it had been a year since he'd last visited on leave, and she'd missed him.

"Hey, kid," he said. Al Calavicci hated funerals, and coffins, and anything to do with death, but he couldn't bring himself to not come. For his niece's sake, if not his own, he gestured toward his car. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

They drove for a while through the city, neither saying a word, until finally they pulled into the parking garage of Elizabeth's grandmother's apartment. The girl would be living here, now, but before they went inside the upper middle-class building, her uncle turned to her.

"I know a lot of stuff is going through your head right now, sweetheart. You've probably been told all kinds of different things about your parents, and where they are now, and you don't know what to think, or what to believe." He paused, tapping the steering wheel nervously. Even though he loved kids, and hoped someday to have some of his own, he wasn't used to talking to them. "Well, I know what it's like to lose someone you love, I really do. And you might not believe this, but after a while, it will get better. Anyway... here." He pulled something out from under the seat and handed it to her.

Curious, Elizabeth unfolded the paper wrapping, and found a book... old, and leather-bound, with gold printing that read, The Time Machine. She furrowed her brow as she flipped through the pages.

"It's a good story," he promised her. "I used to read it when I was younger. I thought maybe you could use something... well, distracting."

She carefully closed the book, and held it against her chest. "Thank you. It's nice."

Al smiled, relieved she liked it. He'd spent hours debating on what to bring her, because while he knew she was bright – she'd skipped sixth-grade last year, making her the only twelve-year-old in her eighth-grade class this year – he didn't know what sort of things she liked. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I'm not going to make you read it and then discuss it with me, or anything educational like that." That earned him a small grin, and he patted her shoulder. "All right, well, I've got to get going. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said automatically, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door. "Will you write me?"

"Sure, kid. As often as I can."

Elizabeth watched her uncle drive away, and suddenly felt tears flooding her eyes. Quickly she ran inside, holding back the emotions until locked safely in her new bedroom. Then she cried herself to sleep.

When she woke, the room was dark. Her clock read 10:13, and from the relative quietness of the apartment, she guessed her grandmother had already gone to bed. Exhausted, but unable to fall back asleep, she picked up the book her uncle gave her, and started reading.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, she'd read it twice.