Author's note: There are three different timelines. The Leapers are in July/August 1984. During the time of Sam's Leap into Bruce Merrick, Al is in December 2000. Marina (Ziggy's Observer) is in June 2001. I will attempt to make the time frame as clear as possible before each scene.
Sam, Al, Alia, and the rest of the Quantum Leap cast belong to Don Bellisario and Universal. The title was taken from the title of the TV show All in the Family. I don't know who owns the show, but it certainly is not me. Ziggy Dalton, Marina, Lester, etc. belong to yours truly.
All in the Leaping
Family
July 28, 1984
The Leaper blinked rapidly as the blue light dissipated, leaving her to explore her new surroundings. She noticed that she was sitting at a small wicker table, a half-full glass of orange juice and a bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes in front of her. Don't these people know that Frosted Flakes tastes better dry? She shook her head and attempted to force a spoonful down her throat.
"Will you hurry up, Reba?" a man shouted from the threshold of what she assumed to be the kitchen. "We haven't got all day."
She let her
eyes wander around the kitchen, and tried to get as much information as she
possibly could. Based on the decorum,
she was probably somewhere in the early to mid 1980's. A quick glance at today's sports page
confirmed that she had Leaped into Rockdale, Oregon, on July 28, 1984. Looking down at her Host's outfit, she was
able to assume that she had Leaped into a teenager or young adult. Well, you're only – what? Seventeen? Eighteen? – yourself. You can
act like a teenager, easy.
"Did you hear me, Reba?" the man near the doorway was getting exasperated.
She felt her cheeks redden when she realized that he had been addressing her. I must be Reba. "Uh, sorry," she said. "I was daydreaming … Dad."
"Sorry, sir," a voice corrected behind her. The Leaper nearly knocked over the glass of juice as she turned to greet her Observer.
"Sorry, sir," she quickly amended. "I was daydreaming."
"I heard you the first time," the man said sharply. "If you want me to drop you off at Kelly's, you'd better get your ass in gear. I gotta get to work."
Glad for an excuse to be rid of the disgusting cereal, the Leaper dumped remnants of her Host's breakfast down the drain, washed the bowl, glass, and spoon, and headed out of the kitchen.
"Your bedroom's upstairs," Marina told her. "First door on the left."
She followed her Observer's instructions and quickly found herself in Reba's bedroom. The walls were plastered in posters of the Ramones, the New York Dolls, the Sex Pistols, and various other punk bands she failed to recognize.
"Good morning, Zigster," Marina greeted her. "Or should I say evening? It's close to midnight where I am."
"Morning," Ziggy Dalton mumbled, her mind occupied with exploring aspects of her Host's life. I hate when she calls me Zigster.
"You pick the worst possible times to Leap into a situation," Marina complained. "I had to run out on Joey." The petite young woman peered up at her friend. "You remember Joey Donovan, don't you?"
Ziggy nodded. "Barely. But if memory serves me right, you should be glad the date was cut short. That guy was … what do you call people like that? … A nozzle."
Reba is definitely not a neat freak, she decided as she stepped over a growing pile of laundry. Maybe I'm here to clean her room for her. The bed was unmade, and several times she nearly fell flat on her face. A green packpack had chosen an unfortunate position in the middle of the room. A long khaki overcoat slipped off its perch to reveal a full-length mirror. Ziggy stood in front of it and studied her Host's reflection. She appeared to be about 5'3, with brown eyes. Her Host's head was shaved, except for an electric blue Mohawk. She had body piercings all the way up her ears, her eyebrows, her nose, and, Ziggy guessed, in some body parts she cared not to think about. Reba was wearing a black Ramones t-shirt, plastic yellow pants, and torn sneakers.
"I'm a punk," she moaned. She turned to her Observer. "How do I look? Maybe I should consider dying my hair blue."
Marina shook her head. "Nah, you look scary enough as it is," she teased. Ziggy threw an orphaned sock at her friend, and watched her futile efforts sail through her friend's hologram body and onto the bed. In Marina's eyes, the girl in front of her was 5'5, and had piercing blue-grey eyes and wavy light brown hair pulled back in a loose French braid. A shock of white hair rested on the left side of her bangs.
Ziggy went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Well?" she asked, her mouth full of Colgate.
"Well, what?" Marina asked.
"Who, what, where, when, why, how." Ziggy listed off the standard Leaping questions as she spit the toothpaste into the sink.
Marina wrinkled her nose. "Lovely," she said dryly, then began the standard Observer's recitation. "You've Leaped into Reba Merrick, age fifteen, on …"
"July 28, 1984," Ziggy interrupted.
Marina nodded. "Good. Right now you are in Reba's father's house in …"
"Rockdale, Oregon."
"Are you sure you still need me?" Marina teased. "You seem to be pretty good at this on your own."
"No wait!" Ziggy protested.
Reba's father knocked on the bathroom door. "If you're not in the car in five minutes, you can walk to Kelly's," he shouted.
Marina shrugged and looked down at the silver-blue hand link. The palm-sized computer also served as a beeper, calculator, and mobile Imaging Chamber. Nobody could ever fathom that pressing a certain button on Marina's beeper released an array of holographic images of the past.
"I'd get a move-on if I were you," Marina said. "It's a good twenty-five minute walk to Kelly's house."
Ziggy grabbed the backpack and followed Reba's father to the car.
She supplied Ziggy with more information on the way to Kelly's. "Your father -Reba's father's name is Colonel Bruce Merrick. He served in Vietnam. Reba's mother, Linda, walked out on the family when she was three." She scrutinized the man behind the wheel of the red pickup truck. "Probably left to escape him."
"Marina!" Ziggy admonished. Noticing the strange look Colonel Merrick sent her, she quickly added, "Have you ever been to a marina, dad?"
The Colonel nodded. "Yeah, I been to plenty of marinas. What is this? Random question time?"
"That was terrible, Zig," Marina groaned. She continued giving her friend information. "Colonel Merrick's time in Vietnam left him bitter and cynical. He started drinking heavily when he returned, and I wouldn't be surprised if the nozzle hurt Linda or Reba." Ziggy's eyes widened. "Don't worry, kid!" Marina assured her friend. "Reba says that her father quit drinking about five years ago."
Ziggy breathed a sigh of relief. "Ok, then," she whispered, as the truck pulled up in front of a house. "Why am I here?"
The Colonel, thinking the question was directed at him, answered first. "You're here because you've been begging me to let you spend the day with Kelly," he snapped. "Now get out so I can get to work!"
Ziggy quickly obliged. A woman in her early forties opened the door. "Hello, Reba," the woman greeted her.
"Morning … ah …" Who is she? She silently asked her friend.
Marina glanced down at the hand link. "That's Jean Davis," she answered. "Kelly's mother."
"Morning, Mrs. Davis," Ziggy said. "Is Kelly here?"
"She's in the basement."
Kelly Davis, Ziggy and Marina discovered, was as much of a punk as Reba Merrick. The magenta-haired teenager was sitting cross-legged on a tattered orange couch and picking chords on a bass guitar. She looked up when she heard Ziggy enter.
"Hey, Rage," she called to who she assumed to be her best friend.
"Rage is Reba's nickname around her friends," Marina supplied.
"Where's your drum set?" Kelly asked as Ziggy joined her on the couch.
"Tell her it's up her ass," Marina suggested.
Ziggy rolled her eyes at her friend. "I … forgot them." Sounds good enough.
"Aw, c'mon, man. How are we gonna practice?"
Ziggy gave her Observer a Give me a hint look.
"Reba and Kelly are in a local band. El … Electric Shoo …" she smacked the hand link. "Electric Shock! I probably don't have to tell you what instruments they play."
"What time did we say we'd practice?" Ziggy asked. She rummaged through the backpack and found a collection of music sheets.
"Grimm, Tonsil, and Matthew are meeting us here at one." The Buddweiser clock on the wall read eight thirty-three. "I'll get Kevin to drive us to your house when he wakes up."
Marina snorted. "Kevin is Kelly's older brother," she explained. "My guess is this guy probably won't wake up until three in the afternoon."
I've been here for about two hours, the Leaper told herself. I know who, what, when, and where. All that's left now is why. "Why am I here?" she mouthed.
Marina shrugged. "We don't know yet." She pressed a button on the hand link. "Listen, Zig, I got a Bio lab in fifteen minutes." Three chimes later, Marina disappeared, leaving her friend alone in the past.
* * *
Alia Worthington crawled through the tunnel of blue light that surrounded her between her Leaps. Sometimes, she regretted not having an Observer to guide her. But then she'd remember Zoey, and shudder. Improving people's lives, when you had nothing to go on but your own instinct and no idea of how your efforts succeeded, was difficult at times. But it was a far cry from having a vicious woman like Zoey inform you of how you were to destroy your Host. After all those years of fixing lives for the worse, the idea of a Leaper actually helping people was entirely insane. You've always helped people, a voice reminded her. You tried to teach Jimmy LaMotta to read. Her mission that Leap was to send the mentally disabled man to an institution. She liked Jimmy; she didn't want to hurt him. When Zoey asked her why she was doing what she was doing, her excuse had been that it would tear apart the family. Which, in a way, was true. "Connie" turned all her attention away from her husband and transferred it to his brother.
When she and Dr. Samuel Beckett had first made contact, something inside of her changed. It eased her mind to know that someone was out there who cared about others. If she ever voiced her opinion to Zoey, Lothos would fry her brains.
She continued to crawl through the abyss. If I'm lucky, the voices will tell me what I'm supposed to do. She could almost imagine the theme to Mission: Impossible playing softly in the distance.
Your mission, if you choose to accept it … is to reunite a family.
What
family? She asked the voice. She
was greeted by silence. How do I
know who I'm here to help if you don't tell me? What family?
Her only answer was a sudden drop into a new Leap. She was sitting on the edge of a bed, holding a phone. The two queen-size beds, TV, peeling dresser, thick curtains, open suitcase, and half-eaten breakfast tray told Alia that she had Leaped into a motel room.
"Hello? Hello? Anyone there?" a voice called out.
Alia realized she had a phone to her ear. "Sorry," she apologized to the person on the other line. "I didn't hear what you just said."
"Would you like me to connect you to your party?"
She noticed a Motel 6 notepad on the nightstand, a phone number scrawled across it. She didn't know who her Host was trying to call, so she decided to be on the safe side. "No, thank you," she told the operator. "I'll try them again later."
She stood up and explored the room she was in. Her first destination was the mirror overlooking the sink. Her Host was wearing a teal sundress and sandals. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties to early forties, with brown eyes and short black hair pulled up in a loose bun.
Summertime, she guessed. The edition of U.S. News that had been shoved under the door informed her that she had guessed correctly. The date was July 28, 1984.
Now to find out my identity. She rummaged through a purse on the other bed. A driver's license told her that she had Leaped into thirty-seven year-old Linda Daniels of Culver City, California.
Alia wasn't sure if Linda was coming or going. Based on there being only one suitcase, she figured her Host was probably traveling alone. There were only three or four outfits in the suitcase, so this was obviously a short visit. Yesterday's edition of The Rockdale Daily News rested atop the clothes. She skimmed over a few sentences until she gathered that Rockdale was in Oregon.
Alia checked the watch on her Host's hand. Eleven-thirty. Her stomach quietly rumbled, and she decided that an early lunch was in order. The leftover eggs benedict didn't look appetizing to her. She grabbed her – Linda's – purse and keys and headed out into the parking lot.
Where's your car, Linda? She waited for someone or something to point out the identity of her Host's ride. Instead, she spotted a Denny's across the street. I'll find your car later, she silently told her Host, and jogged toward the diner.
* * *
Why won't you let me go home? Dr. Samuel Beckett complained as he traveled through the void. I'm so tired. I can't do this anymore.
Sure you can, the voice assured him.
Sam shook his head. Not anymore. I can't do this. I want to go home.
When Big Al told him that the Leaps would get harder, he had never elaborated on how hard. Sam had found out soon enough. He'd been the sole survivor of a plane crash, been trapped in a fire, and endured a gay bashing. His last Leap, into a drug addict in 1967, had been the final straw. Mind merging with Jack Sanders caused him to suffer the horrendous effects of a bad LSD trip. He was drowning in a canal when God or Time or Fate or Whatever it was that controlled his Leaps snatched him out of the situation.
Please, he pleaded with the voice. I quit. I give up. Now just let me go home.
Instead, he was thrown into yet another situation.
"What did you think of the proposal, Colonel?" a heavyset man inquired.
Sam looked around the tiny office. Since the only occupants in the room were the man and himself, he assumed that the question had been directed to him. "Um, I don't really know," he hedged. His eyes were beginning to droop, and he forced himself to keep them open. Can you get out of here so I can sleep? He mentally begged the other man.
"Haven't you read it?" the man motioned to a booklet on his Host's desk.
"Not all of it," Sam confessed. "When should I give you an answer?"
The man shook his head. "Come on, Merrick, you told me you'd read everything last night."
"I lied," Sam snapped. "Come back later."
What if this man's your boss? The voice scolded. You don't want to get Merrick fired, do you?
The man simply nodded and exited the office. Sam snatched up the booklet and flipped through the proposal, using his photographic memory to store information for his next encounter with that man. Even though the seventy-four page proposal was full of charts and equations that Sam usually enjoyed solving, today he was too tired to care. He felt his head drop down into his chest.
"No sleeping on the job!" someone barked from behind him.
Sam jolted himself awake and turned to face his Observer. "Oh, hi," he said coolly. The short man in front of him was decked out in his usual red suit and red fedora.
Admiral Albert Calavicci feigned a look of hurt. "Oh, hi? That's all you're gonna say to me?"
"Hello, Al," Sam corrected himself through gritted teeth.
Al peered at his friend. "What's bugging you?" he asked.
Sam slammed his fist against the back of the chair. "Nothing!" he snapped. "I'm just a little tired now, so could you please go away?"
How can he be tired? Al wondered. He's only been in this Leap for fourteen minutes. "I'll leave, but first I need to tell you who you are," he assured his friend.
"Maybe I don't care," Sam said.
Al pretended to ignore him, but made a mental note to consult Beeks. "Your name is Colonel Bruce Merrick. You're forty-one years-old, and you lee … li …" whack "live in Rockdale, Oregon, with your fifteen-year-old daughter, Reba. You are currently working for McHauley's Cal …" whack "Calculators, Inc. Your job is to design new calculators." He coughed in Sam's ear when he realized that his friend wasn't listening to him. "Bruce Merrick," he shouted. "Forty-one years …"
"I heard you, damnit!" Sam hissed. "Now tell me when I am and get the hell outta my sight!"
"July 28, 1984," Al supplied the information as he conjured up the door to the Imaging Chamber. "Take it easy, kid," he ordered his friend as he stepped into the triangle of bright white light. "Just take it easy."
As the Observer handed the handlink to the Chief Programmer, a disturbing thought gnawed at his brain. This is not going to be an easy Leap.