Linear Time: A Quantum Leap Fan Fiction Story by Lesley Wentzell

This satirical short story is dedicated to my dear friend Séverine Ténard, whose fabulous tribute videos inspired its creation. And, of course, to Dean Stockwell. You'll see why...

"Oh, shit!" The rude, atomic snap back into reality seemed to require a response which was slightly stronger than his usual farm-boyish expression of incredulous innocence.

Dr. Samuel Beckett bolted into a sitting position. He was in a stranger's bed; not that this was atypical. Not for him, anyway. In fact, it was a situation with which he had long since become acquainted. Despite the abruptness of his awakening, Sam sensed that neither he nor anyone who might possibly be around him at the moment was in any danger. In fact, if he had to put a description to what he was feeling, it would be peaceful bemusement.

I was dreaming! He realized.

Or rather, the person he'd Leaped into was dreaming. The last time Sam found himself in the middle of someone else's dream, he was astonished to discover that the dreamer in question was none other than his best friend, Ensign—at the time—Albert Calavicci. As the disturbing, bizarre images he'd witnessed began to fade from his already Swiss-cheesed memory, Sam wondered if God, Time, Fate or Whatever had seen fit to once again deposit him into Al's past. It would certainly explain his appearance in the dream. Wait—no, it wouldn't. The last time this had happened, Sam was the appearance in Al's dream. Sam was Al!

Still, in this dream, a slightly younger Al—colorfully dressed, but considerably tame when compared to the attire Sam was used to seeing the Admiral wearing—was present. He seemed, however, not to notice Sam. Nor was he able to respond when Sam touched his shoulder. He actually touched Al! A sad smile crept across his face. Even though Sam was grateful beyond words to have his dearest friend with him on this incredible trek through time, he couldn't help missing being able to physically interact with him.

Al, when I finally Leap all the way back, he thought, you're going to get the biggest bear hug in history!

Sam shook his head, turning his attention back to the dream. Adding to its surreal nature was Al's preoccupation with... a shovel? "Oh, boy!" Sam announced to the empty bedroom. "The Sixties were good to... whoever I've replaced!" No, he reasoned to himself. The dream couldn't have exclusively been the product of the Leapee's rather imaginative, seemingly drug-induced psyche. Concluding that Al was there simply because Sam himself wished it, the scientist rose from the bed and glanced around the room in search of a mirror. When he found one, the reflection which greeted him resembled a long-haired hippie rock star. "Definitely not Al," Sam mused aloud. Come to think of it, though, not only was Al's hair in this dream missing the grey that was beginning to form at his sideburns, it was a bit longer than what would pass as regulation. And the shovel. That, more than anything, perplexed the hell out of Sam. What on Earth was he doing with a shovel?

That's when he heard the familiar whoosh of the Imaging Chamber Door. Sam smiled as Al stepped into the past. He was poking at the handlink, humming quietly as though he had a song stuck in his head, and was wearing what he playfully referred to as his "In the Name Of Love" jacket. Next to the silver one, it ranked as his favorite and its designation was due to the three Stop signs which decorated it: one large one on the back, and a smaller one on each sleeve.

"Hey, hey... my, my—Oh!" Al looked up at his friend. "Hi'ya, Sammy Boy!" he said cheerfully.

"Hello, Allie Boy!"

"Sam," Al was bouncing on his toes with excitement, "you'll never guess who you Leaped into—"

"Hold on a minute," Sam interrupted him. "Wait 'til you hear about the dream this guy was having. I think my arrival influenced it because you were in it!"

The Observer was genuinely touched. "I was? Aw, that's nice, Sam."

"Yeah. You were the owner of this gas station and diner…"