A/N: This is a story based kinda off of a play that my mom's in, so that's where I got the idea. Please review!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Quantum Leap.
Dr. Sam Beckett blinked out the brilliant blue light he always experienced during and after a leap. The first thing he noticed was the prison bars. They were old-fashioned, though. Like, really old-fashioned. He looked down at himself, realizing two things. One, he was dressed in clothes from what looked like the 1700s, and two…he had the body of a woman.
He leapt toward the dirty prison mirror and looked at himself. He defiantly had a woman's face. His host had dark hair and eyes, and had grime streaked on her face. "Oh, boy," he said.
Meanwhile, in the waiting room…
Dr. Verbeena Beeks entered the Waiting room. It was her job as the psychiatrist to win the trust over the new arrivals and at least get some basic information, such as their name, where they lived, what they did for a living, etc.
She walked into the waiting room to find Sam's new host in the corner, sobbing. Dr. Beeks set her clipboard down and knelt down to where the new Leapee was crying.
"What's wrong?" she asked. The Leapee looked up, her face stricken with fear and despair.
"Where am I? Am I dead? If I'm dead, then where is James?" she asked, then continued sobbing. Dr. Beeks set a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"You're not dead. You're in what we call the Waiting Room. Now, just calm down, and we might be able to figure this out." The Leapee calmed down a bit, reducing her sobs to a sniffle. "Very well, then."
Beeks sat her down on a more comfortable chair. "Okay, for starters," Dr. Beeks began, "What is your name?"
The Leapee took a deep breath and answered, "Grace Sherwood, from the Lynnhaven Parrish." The doctor wrote this down on her clipboard.
"Mm-hmm and where is that?" She answered, "Virginia," Dr Beeks wrote this down, also. "And what year is it currently?" she inquired. "1706,"
Verbeena looked up from her clipboard. "1706 did you say?" she asked, making sure she heard right.
"Yes," Grace answered, "Why?" the doctor shook her head.
"Never mind, let's continue." She hoped that the admiral was getting all this information.
Back in jail, 1706, Samuel Beckett.
Sam breathed heavily. He sat on the bed, trying to keep 'his' hands from shaking. He'd probably been sitting there for fifteen minutes for someone to tell him what the hell was going on.
There was a whooshing noise as the door to the imaging chamber opened and closed. Sam looked in the direction of the sound, and standing there was Admiral Al, the observer (as well as Sam's old pal). He was wearing a bright green suit and an even brighter orange tie to go with it.
"Al!" Sam whispered.
"Hey, Sam. We've got quite the character in the waiting room" Al responded, sticking a half-used cigar in his mouth and lifting the handlink.
"Yeah, just tell me who I am, what I'm here to do, and why I'm in a jail, will ya?" Sam said, irritable from his Swiss-cheese memory. Al pressed multiple buttons, occasionally whacking the handlink with the heel of his hand.
"I'm getting as much as I can right now. Ziggy's recording Dr. Beeks's conversation with the Leapee as we speak. It was weird; when she walked in, your host was crying."
"Crying? Why?" Sam asked, curious.
Al shrugged, still fiddling with the handlink. "She was confused and afraid. She thought she was dead, and asked where James was."
Now Sam was confused. "Who's James?" he inquired.
Al shook his head. "We don't have the info yet. But here's what we got so far: "Your host's name is Grace Sherwood, year…" Al wacked the handlink. "…1706?"
Both Al and Sam raised their eyebrows. "How's that possible?" Sam demanded.
"Well, it's happened before, remember? Uh, never mind, you probably don't. Uh, you leaped into your However-many-greats grandfather, in the civil war times. Ziggy did a background check on Grace, and it turns out that Grace's half-sister moved to England a few years ago, and her distant relative moved back to America, and one of their distant relatives married a Beckett."
"Okay, what else?" Sam asked.
Al looked back at the handlink. "Okay, um…you're a working mother who lives at home with your three sons. Oh, and we figured out who James is. Grace was married to him, and they had their three boys, and…oh, no…he died. We don't know how; she won't talk about it. This left her alone to tend their farm and raise their sons. Oh, and get this: since their farm was near the river, she secretly is a very good swimmer. Um…she never really fit the mold; she was more outspoken, and a lot smarter than women were supposed to be. Because of her being different, she was often the victim of blame by her neighbors when things happened. In fact, recently, she was arrested and put in jail to await trial for…"
Al stared at the screen, thinking he'd read it wrong. He whacked the handlink again and again.
"For…?" Sam prompted. Al kept glancing from the handlink to Sam. "For…the crime of witchcraft."