"Got him!"
Splayed out on his belly, TJ Sanders kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the horny toad he'd leaped to snatch up. Try as it might, the creature couldn't wriggle its squat body free. Proud of his quick reflexes, TJ was not going to be letting it go any time soon. He'd show it off to his sister later; really get her to squeal.
"Get out of the middle of the road, you doofus!" his friend Jason called out to him.
"Or what? No one's coming," TJ argued. He was keeping watch on the road. Still, the asphalt underneath him was egg-sizzling hot from the desert heat. Lizard kept securely in his fingers, he got to his feet and stepped over to Jason to show off his catch.
On the outskirts of town and in the middle of the summer, the streets were at their barest. Most people would rather spend their vacations anywhere but here, but since both of them were too poor to have any real fun, they had to make their own. So that meant kicking rocks around in the desert and catching their 5th horny toad that week. It was slow going but at least it was something. Nothing cool happened around here.
"Hey, who's that?" Jason pointed down the road leading out of town, squinting curiously. Shielding his eyes from the sun, TJ followed his direction.
There was a man. Just walking.
They could tell he'd been walking for a long time. A coat of dust layered his sweat-stained clothes and hair; his skin was red from the sun. He staggered as he walked, confused, exhausted. A trail of footprints behind him led straight into the desert.
TJ placed his prized lizard on the ground, where it skittered away, and waited cautiously still with his friend. Tired eyes focused on the town ahead, the man shuffled closer. Neither boy was certain if they should say anything. The muffled sound of music pounded into the road as a couple of cars drove past, and then faded into silence.
Finally, TJ bravely spoke up. "Hey, mister, are you okay?"
His head slowly turned toward them, as if just noticing them. Something inside him switched on, and he suddenly looked more human. "I think so," his voice squeaked with dryness. He cleared his throat and put on a friendly face. "This might sound like a weird question, but where are we?"
"Los Alamos, sir."
The man nodded. He pursed his lips. Hesitated. "And the year?"
Jason and TJ exchanged a look. Jason was the one to answer this time. "It's...2001."
The man reacted as if he'd just been told the sky was purple. His jaw went slack. Why wouldn't he know the year, TJ wondered?
"Oh my god!" A car had stopped, and a curvaceous woman was stepping out with her (smaller and more embarrassed) husband. Eyes bugging out of her head, she pointed a stubby finger brazenly at the man as she approached. "You're him, aren't you?"
The man was totally lost. "...him?"
"Him! Him! I've seen you in magazines!" she exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, I know your name, don't tell me..." She clicked her red press-on nails together as she tried to jog her memory. Baffled, the man looked at the boys. They shrugged.
"I'm sorry," her husband apologized as he tried to gently tug her away, "She's always like this. Come on, let's go..."
"Sam Beckett!" she blurted out finally, "That was it! Sam Beckett! Gosh, I thought you were dead!"
Sam Beckett's red pallor turned white.
-
Strolling casually down the hall toward his quarters, Al whistled a jaunty tune to himself. He couldn't think of the name of the song. Something he'd heard in a commercial maybe. The catchy jingle was stuck in his head now, like a CD skipping.
He was in a fantastic mood. Not for any particular reason, because nothing was really going on at the moment. But that was the thing. Nothing was going on. They'd breezed through Sam's most recent leap, and they hadn't heard anything from him in a couple weeks. And he loved the kid, he really did, but leaping was stressful business, and it was a well-deserved break. No stressing about life or death scenarios, or staying up all night worrying if his best friend was gonna end up on the dead side of history. And for once, when midnight rolled around, he was fast asleep. Well...most nights. Unless Tina had other plans.
Hell, they even had enough free time that Donna was away visiting her mother. Al couldn't even remember when she'd taken time off last. She was always so focused on Sam, and, well, she enjoyed work too much. But she deserved to have some time away for herself, Al thought, after everything she'd been through. And, uh, if he was being honest with himself...it was nice to have a break from her too.
Today, he had big plans. He'd stacked himself a triple-decker sandwich (The Calavicci Special), he was going to watch some TV, and, fingers crossed, do nothing else. Balancing his plate on one hand, he slapped his other palm on the scanner, shut the door, and flipped on the boob tube.
Door shut, pants off. As they were halfway down, he heard something on the news that immediately caught his attention.
"In breaking news: world-renowned scientist Dr. Samuel Beckett has reemerged, six years after disappearing from the public eye."
He couldn't have heard right. Al's jaw and pants dropped, and he tripped his way over to the screen. What kind of baloney was the press trying to feed people now? The media had pulled many stunts concerning Sam's disappearance over the years, such was the way of things when someone famous just up and vanishes...but these stories usually ended up in tabloids, not on the news.
The presenter continued. "According to witnesses, Dr. Beckett bizarrely appeared wandering the desert in Los Alamos, and has been taken to Los Alamos Medical Center for observation. The hospital has been tight-lipped concerning his condition, but an onlooker was able to capture this footage of Beckett entering the facility."
When Al saw the footage, he stopped breathing. Sure the video was from a distance, grainy, and unprofessional, but that...that certainly looked a hell of a lot like Sam. Didn't it? If he squinted?
"Many questions about Dr. Beckett have been raised over the years since he stopped making public appearances, leading some people to speculate that his death was covered up. But if this footage proves anything...Sam Beckett lives."
"ZIGGY!"
"You don't have to shout, Admiral."
"Call Donna."
Ziggy decided this was an offensively big deal. "I believe I was told not to contact-"
"I know what you were told, Ziggy, but I'm overriding that order," Al told her with irritation, "This is an emergency. Get her back here now! Tell her we've got damage control."
Nothing was happening today, sure. This hoax was going to get someone in deep caca.
-
The hospital was like a madhouse. Press were gathered around outside like bloodhounds, each one eager to be the first to interview the famous Sam Beckett. Al was disgusted. Didn't they have better things to do than clog up a hospital parking lot? If it was some lookalike trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame riding off of Sam's back, they were getting the attention they wanted. And Al was going to quash the whole thing right here and now.
After a long fight, Al made it to the front desk. A frazzled Hispanic woman glanced up at him over her glasses. It had clearly been a long day. "Can I help you, sir?"
Al broadened his shoulders and straightened his hat. It felt hotter than the sun driving there in his dress whites, but he always threw them on if legal matters might be concerned. For some opportunistic weasels, the uniform was enough to scare them off. "Yes, I'm here about Sam Beckett."
Within a millisecond, she'd lost her patience. "We're not allowed to release information concerning patients," she dismissed shortly, "If you'd like an interview with Mr. Beckett, we suggest contacting the appropriate parties."
"Do I look like press to you?"
Vaguely less annoyed, she took in his uniform. "Are you family?"
"Er-No. But-"
"Then you can't see Mr. Beckett," she stated curtly, and she turned her attention to the next person in line.
Ooh, now Al was really going to lay into her. Raising an indignant finger, he asked hotly, "Do you know who I am? I'm Admiral Albert Calavicci, and I demand to see Dr. Beckett! That is, if that even is Dr. Beckett in there." He narrowed one accusing eye. The woman was not intimidated in the slightest. Al pouted angrily. He hated to be ignored.
Nevertheless, she did look over her screen. "You said Albert Calavicci?"
"Did I stutter?
She glanced up again, deadpan, then looked back at her screen. She took her time. "You're on his contact list, but your line was busy. Room 26E." Without looking up, she pointed in the general direction before going back to work.
Al was stunned in place for a moment. He knew the line was busy, they were fielding calls from reporters the minute the story hit, but he wasn't actually expecting a call concerning whatever crackpot was behind this. They must know he would immediately see it wasn't Sam. Did the hospital really believe their story too?
-
Al arrived at "Sam's" door and smoothed the front of his jacket. Time to put the fear of god into this parasite. Once the door was shut, he put on his meanest, most bureaucratic face. Think lawyer or something, a real bloodsucking hardass. He turned to face the creep.
"Alright, you nozzle. I don't know what your game is, but-"
He jolted to a stop. The words died on his lips. For a moment the wind was knocked out of him, and his brain couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Because there was no mistaking it. Long face. Crow's feet. Streak of white hair. That was Sam Beckett.
"Al."
"Sam?" Al asked cautiously. He feared if he was certain, his friend would disappear.
Sam's mouth quirked up. "It's me. I'm home."
It couldn't be. But it was. It was?
It was.
He was real! And tangible! Shaking with overjoyed laughter and not caring about the how or why at the moment, Al closed the distance between them and swept Sam into a tight hug before he could be revealed as just an illusion. Taken off guard, Sam jumped and yelped in surprise.
"Sam! I can't believe it! You're really here!" Al couldn't think of what else to say; he was dumbstruck, so he clapped him heartily on the back. Then, the first thing that came to mind, "This is-this is amazing!" It felt so good to be able to hold him in his arms! But rather than return the embrace, Sam had tensed up. Brow creased with concern, Al was quick to back off. "Kid?" Was he going too fast? Was Sam hurt? God, he should've asked first.
Sam chuckled and shrugged. "Sunburn. Sorry."
"Oh." Al nodded. That was a relief. Still, he couldn't help but notice a distant reserve. He was curious as hell about what happened.
But when Sam's face cracked into a big, Beckett smile, some of his worry melted away. It was a wonderful sight to see. "I'm happy to be here too, Al. God, I'm glad to be back!"
Pulling his hand across his mouth, Al studied his friend closely. Red, slightly worn, still Sam-shaped. Surreal. "I, uh, heh...I'm blown away here, Sam. I just have so many questions. I mean...how?"
Again, Sam shrugged. "I wish I knew. I thought I was on a leap! I just appeared in the desert, and now..." He threw out his hands. "I'm here! Whatever's been leaping me around time must've decided to put me back."
"Hot ziggety damn..." Al breathed, still in shock, "That easy, huh?"
"That easy." Sam's crow's feet crinkled around his eyes, and Al caught his infectious smile again.
It didn't make a lot of sense, and Al still had a lot of questions he wasn't sure anyone could answer. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that finally, finally, he'd gotten what he'd wanted the most for six years. Sam had come back. He had his best friend again
Sam's brows furrowed, however, and he motioned toward his head. "My memory's still a little...fuzzy over some things. I don't remember where I live or where the Project is."
"Your brain's still swiss cheesed?" Al asked with worry. Shouldn't leaping back fix that? Oh hell, he didn't know. Maybe his brain would fill itself in with time. He hoped.
"That's why I'm here. But other than a little sunburn, they didn't find anything wrong with me. Just left over from leaping, I guess." Sam sighed, fixing Al with an entreating look. "Right now, I'd just really like to go home."
"Sam," Al said seriously, and his friend paused with trepidation. He leaned in closer. "It would be my honor."
-
Sam was awfully quiet on the way back. Not that Al could blame him. He'd been through a lot. And a lot that Al was certain he wasn't saying. He wasn't going to push. It had been a very long six years; Sam had a right to be a little overwhelmed. He wasn't sure what was going on in the kid's noggin, but if it was anything like what was rolling around in his brain, it was loud and overbearing. He'd driven out here expecting to be shouting down some loser trying to take advantage of Sam's good name, and come back with Sam actually in the passenger's seat. It had been a hell of a call to make to the Project.
Still. He'd expected Sam to be...happier.
"Heh, I just realized somethin'. Now that you aren't trapped in time, you're not gonna know what to do with yourself!"
"Yeah."
"That's a dangerous thing, you havin' free time. Next thing I know, you'll have invented a teleporter or somethin'." Al laughed. "Only-Sam, let's test that one out on someone else, will ya?" He winked. Sam grinned politely.
Silence. Al coughed.
"At least, uh, at least you don't have to worry about being chased by bulls now!"
"Huh?"
"Your last leap."
Sam grew quiet. "I don't remember."
"Oh." Al stole a glance away from the road. Sam was looking out the window thoughtfully. He wondered what he was thinking. Carefully, he asked, "What, ummm...what do you remember, Sam?"
Sam looked back at him, considering the question for a moment. "Well...pieces. I remember parts of leaping, and my life, just details escape me. But I think it's coming back to me. It'll refresh my memory when I get back home. You know, somewhere familiar."
"Oh. About that, Sam..." Al started hesitantly. He supposed he had to break the news sometime this drive. He scratched at his temple. "You, ah...don't exactly live there anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, well..." Al rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Ah jeez, kid, I hate to tell you this, but Donna sold the place. After your last trip back. She put the money into the Project, to...to get you." His voice got softer. He cautiously waited for Sam's response. Receiving nothing, he marched onward. "That's why I'm taking the long route. Gotta lose the press. You...you live at the Project now."
"I see."
That was it? Sam gave away nothing of how he was feeling. Al wished he knew what approach to take. "But now that you're back, you can find a new place," he assured him, "Something nice. This is, y'know, this is only temporary."
Sam was amused now, apparently humored by Al's floundering. "Al...I can't wait to see the Project."
Instantly, Al became more at ease. He felt silly for trying so hard. After all, he knew how to talk to Sam. His friend just needed some time to adjust.
Hell, he needed time to adjust.
-
Once they were certain they weren't being followed by nosy reporters, they at last arrived at Project Quantum Leap. After being greeted by an extremely excited security guard, Al pulled into the parking garage and led Sam toward the elevators. He still seemed a bit confused about the layout. It'd come back to him.
"You might notice we've changed some things in the six years since you left," Al informed him, "But it's still the same old project. You'll get back in the swing of things in no time." He pressed his hand onto the scanner, the door slid open, and they made their way into the main building.
Immediately, Sam's face lit up. Taking slow steps inside, he took in the Project with awe. Home. He was home. Bouncing on his heels, Al stood proudly nearby, brimming with joy to be part of this. This was the Sam he'd expected.
Carefully, methodically, Sam ran his fingers across the wall, memorizing the texture. He smiled. "I want to see more."
-
"SURPRISE!"
The door had barely fallen shut before Sam was surrounded by enthusiastic Project staff. A last minute display of balloons and streamers decorated the room, as well as a homemade sign: WELCOME BACK, DR. BECKETT! Hands from all sides clapped Sam on the back and many people voiced their congratulations.
Sam playfully gave an embarrassed look toward Al, who raised up his hands in a shrug. "Sorry, Sam. Couldn't resist!"
Gooshie practically tackled Sam into an embrace, or maybe Sam's recoil had to do with his breath. "Dr. Beckett! It's so wonderful to see you!"
Coughing, Sam gently pulled back. "It's good to see you too."
"Welcome back, sir!"
"Cheers for Dr. Beckett!"
Someone placed a drink in his hands. "How about a toast?"
"Go on!"
"Let's hear it!"
The crowd expressed their encouragement, and Sam raised his free hand until the noise died down. "Okay, okay," he chuckled, "I'm a little bit speechless right now, so I'll have to keep this short." He lifted his glass. "To old faces, to new beginnings...and to my dearest friend, Al." He raised his glass toward him and grinned. "Without you, I wouldn't be here today." The crowd cheered and toasted.
Hands shoved in his pockets, Al shrugged bashfully. "Ah, I didn't do anything you wouldn't do." Then, to the crowd. "Now let's get this party started, huh?"
-
As far as parties go, Al would describe this one as a real swingin' shindig. You could feel the good vibes in the air. And although he wasn't drinking himself, he took great amusement in seeing Gooshie drunk off his ass and attempting to balance various objects on his head. On an ordinary day Gooshie couldn't tell a joke from a joystick, but when he got hammered he was a riot. And he was totally toasted now; he was having the time of his life. Everyone, everyone was feeling on top of the world. There wasn't a single one of them who could be brought down at this moment.
That is, except for one person, and that was the person who should be most excited. It might not be obvious to everyone, but Al could tell. He could see it in his body language. Conversation unheard, the people opposite Sam were laughing, relaxed; Sam, on the other hand, was tense, cautious, guarded. He grinned politely and excused himself.
Al watched him from a distance, taking a sip of his soda.
"I notice no one invited me to this party." It was Ziggy, pouting through his wristlink.
"You're a computer, chips-for-brains. What're you gonna do, be someone's date?"
"It would be nice to be asked anyway." Her feelings were hurt. He could hear the petulance in her voice. Barf. "But I can see when I'm not wanted."
Oh brother. Al squinted one eye and looked up curiously. "Hey, where've you been all afternoon anyway? Aren't you excited Sam's home?"
"Is he?"
Al frowned. What a dumb question for such an expensive piece of equipment. "Course he is. You didn't notice him?"
A pause. "Hmm."
That was it. The computer fell silent. Al tilted his head back in confusion.
-
The bathroom was empty save for one slightly buzzed Sam Beckett, who made his way to the sink and splashed water on his face. He looked up at his reflection, his reflection, and waited.
"Hoohoo, Sam, this is a real swingin' shindig!" The gravelly voice came from the wall, where the hologram of a very different Al Calavicci came strolling in. He felt around the pockets of his black sequined jacket, pulling out a cigar. "And this is all for you? It's so touching I'm gonna puke."
Sam glanced his way as he lit the cigar and took a puff.
"Don't talk to me just yet," Al told him through the stogie, "There aren't any cameras in here, but their computer could be listening in."
Sam obeyed and kept his mouth shut, planting his back end against the sink and listening. His eyes drifted back and forth as they followed the other man's movements.
"Looks like we did a pretty good job tuning me into your brainwaves without you leaping," the hologram commented casually, sliding his hand through the sink, "You're comin' in crystal clear." He stuck his head out through the wall again. "I wouldn't do it tonight. The crowd's too big." Pulling back inside, he sauntered over beside Sam's shoulder. Contemplative lips open slightly, a waft of smoke slowly curled out. "Wait until tomorrow, sometime when you're alone. You know what to do."
Gaze fixed ahead, Sam smirked knowingly.
Well, not Sam. Not the Sam the Project thought they knew anyway. A paradox, a product of a twist in time where Sam had been part of a different project; an Other Beckett. And he was joined by Al-but-not-really-Al, his partner in crime, the Observer Calavicci.
And they were going to make this place crumble.