Author's note and disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Quantum Leap's copyrighted characters. Please enjoy this story; it's one of my very first fics. I apologize in advance for any spelling and mechanical blunders. I did run spell check, but we all know it doesn't catch everything. Anyways, despite any bloopers, I hope you enjoy this heart felt story, which is dedicated to my cat Puddin, who passed away last year.
INTO THE FIRE
APRIL 5, 1996
The familiar neon-blue light that always surrounded him when he leaped had not yet dissipated when Dr. Sam Beckett felt a needle stab him in the crook of his left arm. When his surroundings finally came into focus, the time traveler discovered that he was sitting in a dentist-like chair, and he noticed the IV that penetrated his arm. He could see a red liquid passing through the clear tube and into a bag that sat under the chair.
"Oh, boy," he whispered to himself.
Two nurses were making their rounds, serving orange juice and Oreo cookies to all the donors, while a third sat at the front desk ready to receive new volunteers and take their vital signs.
"Would you like some orange juice and cookies?" one of the nurses inquired as she held a small paper cup of the nutritious beverage out to the still disoriented man.
"Uh . . . yeah, I'd like some," Sam answered.
With a nod and a half smile, the nurse deposited the cup into Sam's hand and stepped into the back room to get his cookies.
The first thing Sam wanted to do was figure out when, where, and who he was; but his temporary alter-ego kept his wallet in the back left pocket of his pants, and there was no way he could reach it while hooked up to that IV. Realizing there was nothing he could do at the moment, Sam sat idly and stuffed his face with four Oreo cookies and consumed the juice. He had just licked the icing from the fourth Oreo when his nurse stopped to hand him a small slip of paper
"Here you are, Jim," she said, "This has your vital signs."
The physicist's hazel eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open when he found the name printed across the top of the page: Cmdr. James W. Bonneck. Sam had leaped into his own brother-in-law! The date that was displayed underneath Jim's address and phone number told the scientist that it was April 5, 1996.
Whenever I Quantum Leap through time, I always find myself playing TWENTY QUESTIONS in hopes of finding out who I had replaced and what time I was living in; but this is the first time I had the information I needed literally handed to me.
It wasn't long before Sam's nurse came by to remove the IV and turnicut and patch up his arm. Before letting him out of the chair, she stuck a heart-shaped decal on his chest that read: BE NICE TO ME. I'M A BLOOD DONOR. With a smile, Sam walked out of the building and started for the green station wagon whose license tag had Jim's surname stenciled in large, black letters. Before Sam turned the key to unlock the driver's side, he heard the familiar whooshing sound of the Imaging Chamber door sliding open. Standing behind his best friend, Admiral Al Calavicci was chomping on a cigar while punching in the sequence that closed the white porthole of light behind him. His loud yet friendly "Haya, Sam!" startled ten years out of the younger man.
"Don't do that Al!" Sam snapped with an obvious tremble in his voice.
"Sorry," the shorter man snickered as his buddy crawled into the car.
"Al, you'll never guess who I leaped into this time!" Sam was practically bursting with excitement. "Jim Bonneck . . . Katey's Jim Bonneck!"
"I know, Sam, I just came from the Waiting Room---"
"This is great!" Sam babbled, interrupting his companion. "I'm gonna see Katey, Mom, Mike, and Lisa again! Do you realize how long it's been since I've seen my family . . . Five years I think . . . Last time I saw them was a month before I Quan---"
"Sam . . . Sam, hold it---" Al began as he popped in beside the enthusiastic, younger man.
"It's like a dream come . . ." Sam caught sight of his comrade and noticed the other man's features weren't colored with happiness. "Al, what is it? Does Ziggy know why I'm here?"
"Uh . . . she's not talking. She just had some new micro-chips installed and . . . uh . . . she's having a little trouble--"
"Al, ya know, I really hate it when you make up stuff like that. Can'tchoo just tell me the truth for once!" Sam criticized.
"Ziggy's really not talking, Sam," Al lied, smacking the side of his hand-link with the heal of his hand several times. "She doesn't have the faintest idea why you're here." The bad news displayed on the hand-link blackened Al's mood and drained every drop of color from his face.
Noticing the signs of bad tidings that showed in Al's face and behavior, Sam prodded, "What's going on, Al! There's something you're not telling me . . . What is it? Come on, tell me!"
"I'm tellin' ya Ziggy's got nothing---"
"You may as well tell me, Al, I'll find out eventually."
Realizing the taller man was right, Al finally sighed and answered quietly, "Uh, Sam . . . It's Jim . . . Ziggy says there's a 96.8 chance you're here to save him." Although he dreaded telling his chum what would happen to his relative, the observer swallowed hard and continued softly, "He's gonna die tonight."
"What?" Sam found himself choking on a lump of grief that had just formed in his throat.
"Tonight, your house catches on fire, and . . . you . . . I mean Jim gets Katey, your mother, and the kids out of the house; but . . . when he goes back for the cat . . . and before he has a chance to escape, . . . " Al was hesitant to tell Sam the rest.
"Al, what happened!"
"The floor gives, and Jim and the cat die instantly."
"Oh, God, no . . . "Sam fought the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Kid," was all Al could say to the grieving leaper.
"Something like that . . . even with a Swiss-cheese memory, I shoulda remembered that."
"You can't remember because . . . because I never toldja---"
"You never told me! How couldja keep that from me!" Hurt tones clearly marked Sam's voice.
"By this time, you were already leaping," Al explained. "With everything else that was on your mind, I didn't think you could handle it.
"You still shoulda told me!" Sam cried.
"You're right, Sammy, I shoulda toldja," Al whispered with remorse. "But if you can keep Jim alive . . . you'll leap out, and . . . we won't have to repeat this conversation when you leap home."
"I've gotta save him, Al. I've just gotta save him." Sam's voice was hoarse from the lump that was still caught in his throat.