I'd Like to Thank . . .

This Quantum Leap™ story utilizes characters that are copyright by Bellasarius Productions and Universal Studios. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan fiction story is written solely for the entertainment of the readers and is not for profit. All fiction, plots, and original characters are the sole creations of the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The quantum mechanics term "brane" is referenced in this story. It is a term that has been defined on the PBS Series, Nova, as "brane: any of the extended objects that arise in string theory. A one-brane is a string, a two-brane is a membrane, a three-brane has three extended dimensions, etc. More generally, a p-brane has p spatial dimensions." For more information on branes, please consult your preferred search engine! Thank you!

I'd Like to Thank . . .

Nobel Prizes are remarkable things. They represent the best of the best of the best in fields of study most people can't pronounce let alone understand. This was the year for Admiral Albert Calavicci, actor, fighter pilot, war hero, POW, astronaut, and now, prize-winning scientist. He'd already made the pilgrimage to Sweden for the formal ceremony. The White House reception was elegant. Too many newspapers and magazines and early morning talk shows wanted interviews and finally only one more "aren't I wonderful" moment loomed ahead, but this one was going to be the best.

It was relatively intimate. Only about 35 people and the location was most comfortable - his own rambling home in the New Mexico desert. Weaving his way through the rooms, he kissed every woman and playfully slapped every man on the back. No speeches, no toasts, nothing except good barbecue, boxes of Merlot, bottles of beer and soda, lots of music and even more laughter.

The afternoon turned into evening and that turned into very late night and only a handful remained. One of the chosen was still enjoying some good imported Mexican beer. Sam Beckett sat in a chaise near the swimming pool. The sound system played some Johnny Cash unplugged stuff that filled the air with simple, yet profound music. Sam's wife - Al's eldest daughter Gia - was in the living room with her mother Beth and the newest Calavicci-Beckett child, a joy named Tru in honor of Al's sister.

The indigo sky had a glow even in its darkness and the evening's event and the glory of the nature around Sam settled his heart and soul. He didn't hear his father-in-law walk up behind him. Al had a glass of wine in his hand. "This is the life, isn't it, Sam?"

So why even try to argue? "Oh, yeah. This view is incredible, Al. Just amazing."

The Admiral sat down in the chaise next to Sam. "Kind of humbles you, doesn't it?"

Sam knew exactly what his friend meant. "No matter what we may discover, it is nothing in comparison to what we don't know." He downed a little more of his beer. "Still, you got to admit that proving gravitons exist is impressive, Al."

For him, it still was much ado about not so much. "Like it makes a difference."

Sam gave him a look that articulated, "What the hell?" far better than words.

"No, really, Sam. Okay, so gravitons were theory and now they're not. It's great, but I'm happier that we were able to use them to get you home. That was the reason I was looking for them in the first place. Otherwise, who cares?"

"Well, yeah, getting me home was a great side effect." He offered the dregs of his beer up in a toast. "Here's to side effects."

"Amen." The merlot in his hand sloshed gently against the side of the oversized goblet. "But from my POV, the side effect was proving the existence of gravitons. Getting you home was the point of it all."

The smile on Sam's face was wistful and grateful. "You're getting sentimental in your old age, Admiral Calavicci. That's the wine talking."

The moon spread a soft light over the night mountains and left a misty glow in the distance. Al looked at the grandeur in front of him. "Wine doesn't talk physics. Wine is more a 'ya shoulda seen de one dat got away' conversation." He laughed. "I've had a few of those, you know."

"Oh, I know. I've heard them." The beer glass found the tray table. "I think I've been a party to a few of them as well."

Inside the house, the men heard people laughing and chattering away. A baby would giggle and then start to cry a little. The sounds of normal life filled their ears while the vision of God's splendor filled their eyes. After a few minutes of taking in the perfection life had become, Al started in again. "You know, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"About what?"

He sipped the merlot again. "This is kind of hard for me, so don't talk and just let me fumble through it all."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Beth is fine. We're all fine."

The Admiral's increasing age and his recent bout with a near disastrous flu brought Sam's stomach in his throat. "You scared me. Don't do that again."

He laughed a little, "What part of 'don't talk' didn't you understand?" Even in the limited light, Al saw Sam blush. "Kid, you are still too easy.

It was true and that tinged his cheeks more, but he smiled and said, "So, I'm quiet now. Talk."

After a deep breath, he spoke. "First thing, I'm being serious here and you're probably not going to think I am." There was a pause because he wasn't completely sure how to say what he wanted to say. "Okay, listen, I'm not good at this." The merlot was getting too close to empty. He was glad to see a box nearby. As he rose to refill his glass, he continued to talk. "I guess it wouldn't be a lie if I said that my life has had some hard times. Sometimes, I don't know how I survived." As the glass filled, he paused again to think about how he could say what he needed to say.

Sam was getting concerned. This kind of talk was not like Al. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He sat back down and stared at the mountains in the distance. "I told you, I'm fine. Geez, Beth hounds me enough about my health and I only put up with that from her because she's prettier than you." Merlot has no intrinsic ability to grant courage, but he thought he'd give it a try and another few sips of the dark red wine passed his lips. "I got to tell you, Sam, I was royally pissed off at you when you leapt the first time. I couldn't believe that you'd do anything like that. You, Mr. By-the-Book, goes off half-cocked and . . . well, goes off half-cocked."

Since he returned, Sam had thought often about that first leap. Retrospect gave him the advantage of hindsight and even he had to admit, it was a foolish thing to do. It jeopardized the project, but even more than that. It jeopardized lives. "I don't know how to apologize for that, Al. I can't believe I did anything that stupid."

"No need for apologies, Sam. I don't want one or need one." He sighed hoping he'd be able to get through this. "Okay, anyhow, I just want to thank you."

"Thank me? For what?" Only one thing made sense. "For making your life a living hell for over ten years?"

He laughed. "Actually you're forgetting about the five endlessly long years I knew you before you leaped."

"There is that." He smiled at his friend. "Seriously, Al, why are you thanking me? I should be thanking you."

"Do that on your own time. I claimed this five minutes." The only thing to do was dive in head first. "You got to bear with me here. I'm not good with this touchy feely stuff." One more sip of courage and he said, "Since I was a kid, all the people I loved left me. My mother walked out. My father didn't want to die, but he did. Trudy, well, same thing. Then you and I both know about Beth and the shyster." He wagged his finger at Sam. "And you will never let Beth know about that reality."

"I know, Al. I couldn't do that to you or to her."

Al barely heard Sam's vow. "I don't know how to explain what that kind of abandonment feels like." Then he thought for a moment. "I guess you know a little better than most people. I mean, leaping had to make you feel completely alone."

Sam smiled, "Never completely. I knew you were always there for me."

"That's kind of what I want to talk about." An example would make things easier, but the only thing he could come up with one of the hardest decisions in his life. "You're not going to like this particular story at first, but it's the only thing that can explain what I'm talking about." A roar of laughter bounced out into the backyard from inside the house. "They sound happy."

Yeah, they do. Great sound, isn't it?"

"The best - when it's real like that is. I didn't always know that. Most of the times, when I thought I was having a good time, I was just covering up how empty I was feeling."

It finally clicked. Al was opening up in a way that Sam rarely heard in the past and the gift made his heart proud. "At your lowest low, you could never be empty of feeling, Al. It's not who you are. Never was."

A dark chuckle negated Sam's statement. "That's what you think. I was about as empty as a person could be and still claim to be alive." The merlot suddenly didn't taste as good as he remembered and he put the glass down. "Do you remember the leap into Vietnam with your brother?"

Virtually all of Sam's leap memories had disappeared. Just a handful imprinted his psyche so strongly that he remembered them. The particular leap Al referred to was among one of the most powerful recollections he had, powerful, joyful and incredibly painful. Despite saving his brother Tom's life, Sam's personal victory helped engineer the death of a female photo-journalist and added two years onto Al's time as a prisoner of the Vietnamese. As much as he wanted to forget his part in it all, he couldn't. "I remember that entire leap, Al, every minute of it. Wish I didn't. Not sure I can ever forgive myself for that one."

"That's not why I brought it up and don't start that crap. I made the final decisions in that leap. Whatever the fallout, I'm responsible."

No matter how often Al told him those same words, Sam never believed it. Though he rejoiced in his brother Tom being alive, he couldn't forgive the death of Maggie Dawson or the two added years of torture he foisted on the man sitting next to him. That leap was his greatest regret and it stared him in the face each time he noticed the scars marring the Admiral's body. He'd see one and a thought dashed through his mind - did that happen because I wanted my way? Shame pervaded his being, but the Admiral would literally shake him if he found out. "Okay, Al, it was your responsibility." He sighed, "And from what I hear you kidnapped the Lindbergh baby too."

"Hey, I told you. No one is supposed to know that." The small joke garnered half a chuckle and then silence left Al an opening to continue his conversation. "Something happened in that leap, Sam. Something happened to me and I never told you about it."

Sam's gut tightened. He knew little about Al's time in Vietnam. Al kept those horrifying years a secret, but if he needed to talk, then the very least Sam could do was listen. "A lot happened, but if I'd known what it was going to be, I never would have tried to save Tom."

"Don't go there. That's not why I'm bringing this up." For a smart guy, he just didn't know how to say what was on his mind. "I should have found some other way to tell you this. Just forget Vietnam." He shook his mildly buzzing head. "Okay, let me try getting to this another way." His brain went into overdrive and finally he started again. "A lot of stuff happened to me in my life, a lot of hard stuff and after I came home from Nam and found Beth married to that shyster, I gave up on people. Well, that's not completely true. I gave up on people when I was about four. Even Beth didn't bring me back. I'd given up on everyone except for her." The glass in his hand had a few sips left and he took one. "I didn't have much hope for anything, but you taught me to trust again. You gave me hope for myself because you believed in me as a person - not as an astronaut or a scientist or whatever. You believed in me. No one had done that in decades."

"Their loss, Al."

He laughed just a little. "I don't think it was anyone's loss at all. I buried parts of me so deep that I figured they never existed, but you found them." Another laugh, "Well, maybe you didn't find them. I think maybe you helped create them. I wasn't much of a man before you came along."

"You're kidding, right?" looking over at his friend, he could tell that there was no joke in the statements made. "Al, all I did, if I did anything at all, was put up a mirror so you could see yourself for what you are."

"I don't know. I wasn't much of a man. I mean, even when Beth was mine, before Vietnam, I wasn't much of a man. I loved her. I knew that. I loved her beyond my own understanding, but I was still protecting myself from life. I mean, I went back to Nam so that I could avoid her asking me for a divorce." Merlot swirled in the goblet. "I was quite a man, don't you think?"

The silence needed filling, but neither man knew what to say next, so they sat and watched a streak of light cross the sky. Sam commented, "Perfect night to see a shooting star, isn't it?"

"Now there's something I thought I'd never hear. Sam Beckett observes a meteor and calls it a shooting star."

Sam had to. "Perfect night to see a diminutive celestial body that while encountering the earth in its annual revolution becomes visible by speeding with planetary velocity into the superior regions of the atmosphere."

"Smart ass," Al chuckled, "But that's better."

"Sometimes, Al, science doesn't matter."

"I hate to tell you, but most times it doesn't matter." Another star shot through the Parrish blue sky. "Must be some kind of meteor shower tonight. I like meteor showers. Beth and I sat through one here a long time ago, not too long after you leaped into Cokesburg."

Reminiscing, Sam admitted, "Cokesburg was my favorite leap."

Some things needed no explanation. "I know it was mine, but I wouldn't have been ready for Cokesburg if you hadn't been there for me."

"I don't follow you."

He didn't have to dumb down any explanations for Sam. Hell, Sam was miles smarter than he was, but somehow the technical explanations didn't really describe it well. "One of the things gravitons did was get me from one brane to another. That's how we got you back. We learned to pull things into our brane of reality. The weird thing was that the more I observed in different branes, the more of that brane came with me to the next one."

"Okay, you're losing me here. You actually brought parts of one reality into another without the person in that reality knowing?"

In his head, he knew that was it, sort of, but it wasn't that random. "Just I knew, I think." For a man always at ease with words, he found himself floundering. "I don't know. Maybe I should just leave the science out of it. It's not about the science anyhow, not really."

Sam knew when to be quiet. Al's mind was nearly as quick as his was and in a few ways quicker, so if he was having trouble formulating his words, there had to be a reason and he decided not to complicate things with unneeded conversation. Another meteor flashed and he had to agree with the Admiral. Sometimes science doesn't matter. Who cares about the science of chipping marble when you're looking at Michelangelo's David? Who cares about the harmonics of sound when listening to Debussy's Afternoon of a Fawn? There was little reason to contemplate the astrophysics of a meteor shower when the sight took your breath away.

The meteor caught Al's attention as well. He loved the sky and all its miracles. Since he was a little kid, living in his shabby tenement with an uncaring mother and an absent father, even then he knew he had to be part of it. When misfortune took him to an orphanage, from his cot he stared into the night through the polluted city atmosphere and knew his destiny was in the air, a pilot, an astronaut, a man who would live his life in the stars. "Sam, I guess what I need to say is thank you. You brought me into Quantum Leap and gave me a life that wouldn't have been possible. I've traveled from one brane of reality to another and was able to bring the understanding and the lessons I learned to each new reality. If I hadn't had that experience, when you leaped into Cokesburg, it wouldn't have made any difference. I wasn't ready for that brane to exist until then. You got me ready for it and I can't thank you enough. You gave me this life."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, Al. If anything, you've done that for me. "

"I'm not fishing for compliments here." Again, the sky lit with a streak of fire. "I was like that shooting star, just lots of hot gas showing off for no one."

The younger man laughed out loud. "You? Hot air?"

"Hot gas, Sam, lots of hot gas." They both laughed.

Suddenly, the sky exploded with a meteor shower of gigantic proportions. The phenomenon brightened the vista and both men gasped. "Damn, look at that, Al. Look at them." The brightness outside drew the people from inside the house. They looked up enamored and completely awestruck. "Look at those shooting stars, Al. You're right. You are just like them, but not hot air." He laughed, "or hot gas. You're like some fantastic phenomenon that comes into a life once, if you're lucky."

The Admiral looked at his best friend. "You're going overboard there, kid, but I'm almost inclined to think you might possibly believe that." Sam started to argue his point, but Al stopped him. "Look at it this way - one shooting star and chances are you forget when you saw it, where you saw, sometimes even forget that you saw it at all. One shooting star can happen and if no one is there, it burns up changing nothing. The thing dies without anyone noticing or caring, but this is different." More meteors flashed toward earth and striped the sky with fire. "Those are shooting stars with a friend, with lots of friends. This you won't forget. A shower like this lights up everything around you and you get to know where you are in the universe." His wife stood behind him. He leaned back and looked into her perfect eyes. "Each leap was another shooting star and now I know that this is my place in the universe." Beth came to his side and gently pushed him in order to make room for her. They lay there, side by side. "You gave me this, Sam. Thank you."

Sam knew there was nothing he could say. He invited his wife and baby to join him as Beth had joined Al and they looked at the brilliant show in silence and in gratitude for this most perfect world.

The End