Aftermath

by asearcher

We've all seen the pilot Genesis and Sam's side of the story. What about Al's? A look at the situation from another angle.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I thank the creators and owners of these characters for allowing me to write fan fiction for my own and others enjoyment.

Most of the dialogue between Al and Sam during the leaps comes directly from the pilot "Genesis." The fact that it is written into this story is simply to provide the connection with the show and in no way is indicative of utilizing the words as my own.

Aftermath

Al arrived back at Quantum Leap in record time. He hadn't been lying when he said his car was an experimental model. Late at night on the back highways of New Mexico, he often reached speeds closer to what one would see on an Indy track than a farm road. The car was able to sense other vehicles in a fifteen-mile radius though, so he knew there wouldn't be any problems with running into anyone. He'd actually been surprised when he'd noted the broken down car on the highway close to where the turn off to the project resided. He was even more surprised when he'd found the woman, dressed for a party with a flat.

He'd picked her up, planning to turn around and take her to Socorro, where she'd be able to seek assistance from a service station. Instead the call from Gooshie indicated a different plan was in order. He handed the woman whom he'd given a ride off to the guard at the entrance to the complex, wishing her well and indicating to the guard the need to obtain assistance for her.

He chuckled at the coincidence that Tina Martinez-O'Farrell, one of the scientists working on the project who he had a budding relationship with, and this woman he'd found with a flat on the side of the road had the same first name. Al would have liked to have gotten to know this new Tina better, but if what Gooshie said was true, and he was sure the halitosis laden programmer would never pull a joke like this, he had other things to do. Besides, the Tina at the complex would most likely be a bit upset if he spent any time with the bombshell he'd just picked up. Of course, he couldn't just leave the woman out in the middle of nowhere.

Al arrived at the complex parking garage at a quarter to midnight. He grabbed his white cashmere coat out of the back of the car and carried it in with him. Entering the elevator he punched the button for the Control Room, located ten floors below ground level. Shaking his head slightly he thought about the events current unfolding. The Kid had actually done it! He'd figured that Sam must have corrected the glitch in the retrieval program he'd been working on when Al had left for the Nature Conservancy fundraiser earlier that evening. He'd known Sam to occasionally be eager to try something out, but for the life of him couldn't understand why Sam would have decided to step into the Accelerator tonight. All their planning had been to have Sam leap with the contracting officer and all of the committee members there to see the results. And that couldn't happen until Sam fixed the retrieval program.

Al had asked him when he figured that would be and Sam had simply answered he was close. In fact, Sam had turned him down when he'd asked him to come with him to the fundraiser. He said he wanted to work on those equations again. Al had understood. He knew that when Sam was thinking about something with that focus, he wasn't very good company.

Al walked into the Control Room and hung up his coat. It had been a half an hour since Sam had vanished from the Accelerator. He found Dr. Gushman sitting in a chair, his head in his hands. "What happened, Gooshie?"

Gooshie's head came up and Al saw the sadness etched into the man's face. "I'm sorry, Admiral. I shouldn't have left when he told me to. I should have stayed." Al wasn't certain but he thought Gooshie might be on the verge of tears.

Treading softly, Al asked, "What are you talking about, Gooshie?"

"Dr. Beckett. He found me here working tonight, like I always do. He told me I needed to leave and relax. He told me to go watch a movie and pop some popcorn." Gooshie's head went back down into his hands. "And I listened to him. I mean, I never believed Sam would do something like this."

"You'd left?"

"Only because he told me to."

"Okay, Gooshie. Take it easy. Just tell me what happened from when Sam came into the room tonight."

"Well. He came in and said it was too late for me to be working. I didn't think it was that late and I wanted to work on the programming. You know I like working when it's quiet, Admiral."

"Yeah, Gooshie. I know." He didn't mention the fact that quite a few of the other programmers were thrilled that Gooshie liked to work on his own. The man's halitosis was legendary.

"Well, Sam noted that it was Saturday night and he actually thought I had something better to do than work on the programming. I tried to let him know that I don't watch many movies and I never eat popcorn - the kernels get stuck in my teeth - but he wouldn't listen. He basically ordered me to get out. He said he was afraid I would burn myself out." Gooshie stopped. He looked into Al's eyes, begging for understanding. "Admiral, he didn't give me any choice."

Al nodded. Whatever was up, it was obvious that Sam wanted privacy to do it.

"It's okay, Gooshie. You had to follow what he said. But I'm confused? Why did you come back here and call me?"

"Well, I was almost to ground level when Ziggy contacted me and told me I needed to come back to the Control Room. That Dr. Beckett needed my assistance. I hurried back as quickly as I could, but by the time I arrived, he was already in the Accelerator. Both it and the radium ring had been fully charged. Ziggy told me that Sam shouldn't be leaping. That's when I called you. You know the rest."

Al was trying to figure out why Sam would decide change his plans. The young physicist was seldom this spontaneous. He usually would talk things out with Al before going forward with something. Years before, when he'd first met Sam, Al had thought this was because Sam wasn't sure how to proceed. However, over time, Al found that Sam just liked to cross his t's and dot his i's. Only after looking at a problem from multiple viewpoints, making sure that all the factors had been identified would he make his final plans. As Al was thinking, Ziggy spoke up. "Admiral, Dr. Beeks would like you to meet her at the Waiting Room."

"Okay, Ziggy. Let her know I'm coming." He turned to Gooshie again. "Gooshie, you did everything right. Sam obviously had a reason to do what he did. Why don't you try to locate where he is? I'll be back in a little while." Al gave Gooshie a pat on the back and then headed to the waiting room. He found Dr. Beeks observing the inhabitant through the two-way glass. Al looked into the room himself and he saw Sam's body and the leapee's, somewhat merged together although the man looked like Sam to him. They hadn't been entirely sure how the leaper/leapee interface would look. Al was intrigued.

Dr. Verbena Beeks, the psychiatrist that Sam had insisted be a part of the project, spoke up. "That is definitely not Dr. Beckett."

Al smiled. "I know. He looks like Sam, but he doesn't look exactly like him either."

Verbena looked Al strangely. "What do you mean? He looks exactly like Sam. His body language is not the same though."

Al looked again. "Not to me. I can see someone else there."

Verbena sighed. "It must the biological matrix in the computer chips. I guess they affect how you see the…the…"

"Leapee. Sam said we should refer to the person he bumps out as the leapee."

"Okay. Leapee." She looked distressed. "This is nuts, Al."

"What?"

"I don't think I totally believed that Sam's dream would work. I mean, leaping through time. But I knew it was important to him and it was an honor being asked to join him. Now, knowing that someone has been bounced out of the past and is in that room, looking like Dr. Beckett…"

"You gonna be okay, Verbena?" Al was concerned. He'd never been quite as keen on bringing a psychiatrist onto the staff as Sam was. He guessed it was probably at least partially due to his own mistrust of them. Even since arriving back from Vietnam, he'd felt that the only thing that the "shrinks" wanted to do was to try and get him to "talk." Like that would really help with the horrors he'd experienced. No. Better to lock those demons up and never let them see the light of day. But now, he saw the woman seemingly at a loss herself and he was worried.

She nodded, giving him a weak grin. "I think so. I've just got to follow the protocols that Sam set up, right? We talked about them so many times, it should be second nature."

"You want to go in now? We'll be right out here if you need any help," Al said gesturing to the Marines that stood guard.

"All right, Al. I guess we need to find out how the leapee is handling this."

Verbena keyed the code into the door and walked in. Al watched through the two-way viewing device and listened on through the audio link. He saw the man looking at her with confused eyes, but with no malice. She smiled. "Hello. I'm Dr. Beeks. How are you feeling?

The man answered, looking at her as if he'd been thrown a lifeline. "I'm okay, I guess. Where am I?"

Verbena glanced over towards the wall, which looked solid from inside the Waiting Room, knowing Al was observing on the other side. "Um, you're in what we call the Waiting Room. You're safe here and hopefully you won't be here for long." She looked down to the questionnaire that Sam and she had developed. "I have a few questions, if that is all right."

He nodded.

Smiling a calming smile, she asked, "What is your name?"

He thought for a moment. Then two. He started getting a little upset. "I'm…I'm…not sure." He looked to her, fear in his eyes. "Did I blank out in the plane? Am I in a hospital? Where's…where's…Oh Damn! I can't remember her name."

Verbena was a little nervous at seeing the almost immediate agitation that seemed to swallow the man in front of her. "Who's name?"

"My wi…" He stopped and closed his eyes tightly. "Peg. Her name is Peg!" He turned suddenly to Verbena. "Where is Peg, Dr. Beeks?"

"She's fine. Everything is okay. Do you remember your name?"

"I'm…" his voice was slow as if he we capturing something elusive. With a far away look, he answered, "I'm Tom Stratton."

"Good." Verbena smiled again. "Do you know what year it is?"

"Um, 1956, I think."

She wrote the answers on the clipboard. Clinically, she asked, "And where do you live?"

That seemed to throw him. "Outside Edmond…Eddington…no, that's not it." He looked around wildly. "It's some Air Force Base. Um…."

Al triggered the speaker that resided in Verbena's ear. "Ask him if it could be Edwards."

Verbena conveyed the possible solution. The man who had identified himself as Tom Stratton smiled. "That's it. Edwards Air Force Base. I live just outside of the base with my wife, Peg…and…and…"

The man sat down heavily, putting his head into his hands, despair rolling over him like a wave. "Why can't I remember anything? Is that why I'm here? This is a mental hospital, isn't it? Did the X-2 cause this?"

The X-2. Al hadn't heard that name for years. He remembered reading about the testing that was done at Edwards Air Force Base back in the fifties when the pilots eventually continued to break higher and higher speeds. He said through the speaker, "Verbena, why don't you come out for awhile. I think that Mr. Stratton could use a break."

Al saw her barely acknowledge the message. "I'm sure the X-2 had nothing to do with this. But, Mr. Stratton? I'd like you to relax and rest a bit. We'll talk later."

Tom Stratton smiled weakly. "Yeah. Relax. I think I'd like that." He lay down on the table and closed his eyes as if he hoped he was just having a dream and would soon awaken in his own bed and not the strange room he currently found himself in.

Verbena left the room and walked back over to Al. "Thank you, Admiral."

"What for?"

"For being here. I think that knowing you were there helped me to keep my focus." She sighed. "The poor man is traumatized and it's disconcerting to me that he looks like Sam." She paused for a moment. "How do you think Sam is doing back in the past?"

Al put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure Sam is fine, Verbena. I'm going to go get changed out of this tux and then I'll go find out."

She smiled at him. "Okay, Al. I'll keep you informed if there are any changes on this part.

The disembodied voice of Ziggy came from nowhere and everywhere. "Admiral, I believe you are needed in the Control Room."

"Why, Ziggy?"

"The ventilation system was affected due to the power surge caused by Dr. Beckett's leap."

Al rolled his eyes. "When it rains, it pours!" he thought as he walked to the requested destination." When he arrived, he found the room felt like a meat locker. Dr. Gushman's teeth were chattering.

"Um, Gooshie, do you have anything warm to wear?"

"Ye…Yes, Ad…Admiral. I ha…have a coat in m…my locker." The cold was affecting his speech.

"Well, then go and get it," Al ordered as he retrieved his own coat.

"B…But I ne…need to be he…here."

"I don't want you to leave the complex. Just pick up your coat and come back."

Gooshie nodded and went to retrieve the coat. Al spent the next hour getting the HVAC system back in functioning order. He figured he'd need to leave his coat on a little longer until the room warmed up. Gooshie had returned about fifteen minutes after he left and was wearing a mackinaw and beanie hat. He went to work assuring that the information that Dr. Beeks had ascertained was entered and analyzed.

The orb's brightness suddenly increased. "Admiral, the information provided by Captain Stratton has allowed me to locate Dr. Beckett in his lifetime. I believe you should enter the Imaging Chamber immediately."

Al sighed. "I was hoping to get changed first." He stopped for a moment and then asked, "How do you know he's a Captain?"

"Once I was informed of his name, location, and approximate date, I was able to begin my search. When I found the person who was bounced out, I was able to identify Dr. Beckett's brainwaves. All pertinent information will appear on your handlink," The computer was thorough, Al had to give it that. "And, no. My analysis indicates that you will need to start observing immediately. You will just have to continue wearing the clothes you have on." Al sighed and retrieved the handlink from Gooshie. It was still cold so he didn't take off the coat when he entered the Imaging Chamber. Ziggy quickly located the missing physicist at the time and location that Tom Stratton had indicated. Edwards AFB in 1956. Al had done simulations before but nothing prepared him for the wild ride, the nausea, and the thrill of eventually seeing Sam. Knowing that his friend was in the past was a real kick in the butt.

He found Sam in a meeting, dressed in a pilot's leather jacket covering a flight suit. Al noted the captain's bars on the hat he was holding. "Okay, so Ziggy was right." The physicist was with a group of men, some dressed like Sam and some not. One gentleman, who seemed to be in charge of the meeting, was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. This little gathering brought back memories of Al's test pilot days. He bounced just a bit.

He looked up and saw Sam looking over at him. He gave a little nod and Sam looked at him, one of his goofy grins on his face ending with a sort of confused look. One of the men, after suggesting that if a warning light came on he'd suggest ejecting, was reminded that he himself hadn't ejected under those circumstances. "Yeah, but I'm a damn hero."

Al was impressed. He told Sam, "You know, I like that guy. Kinda reminds me of me, back in the old days." Sam continued giving him a half smile. Al figured he was just keeping his cover. After all, he couldn't start talking to Al with all these people around. They didn't even know he was there.

The meeting came to an end and all the men started filing out, passing Al. He saw Sam talking with one of the men. Sam was smiling and putting on his hat as they walked. Sidling up next to him, he exclaimed, "Ain't this a kick in the butt?" Sam again gave him another half grin and walked off. Al smiled. He had to admire the man for keeping his cover. Even though the others had walked off, they were still in a pretty public area. Al knew that the scientist would choose the best time to communicate with him. Al followed him.

For the next couple of hours, Al watched as Sam went with the other pilots, watching and following their lead. They were preparing a B-50 for the test flight that had been planned for later that morning. A pilot named Tony was going to try to break Mach 3.

Once the plane was prepped, the physicist took the co-pilot's seat in the B-50. Al figured Sam read the body language of the others and took the cue that was where he was supposed to sit. Al watched, proud that his friend and partner was handling his role so well. He stayed on the ground as Sam headed up into the wild blue yonder. Just before the B-50 released the X-2, Al had Ziggy center him on Sam. He found himself in the back of the plane. He waved at Sam and watched as his friend waved back tentatively. He figured that when he talked to Sam later, he'd remind him of actions that would be normal for a co-pilot. It wasn't likely he'd be waving at his crew. Al just gave him thumbs up for now though.

He watched as Sam went back to performing his role. This was exciting, seeing the Mach testing. Al hadn't been a part of this work, but he'd talked to enough of the pilots who had to enjoy seeing what was going on. Concerned that the pilot of the test vehicle had lost control, he was happy when the man ejected. Al decided he'd better head back to the complex. Sam was definitely handling things well. Al wanted to make sure everything was all right back in 1995.

As soon as he left the Imaging Chamber, Al went to his office to begin the task of pulling the bulk of the staff back to the project. The project had been minimally staffed during the weekend and Al needed everyone to monitor this. It was a historic occasion: the first time a human being had traveled in time. It took him most of the morning to reach everyone. He had informed them that there would be a briefing at 11:30 a.m. and he expected everyone to be there. He spent the time until they arrived developing his presentation. When he finally walked back into the Control Room just prior to the briefing, he nodded to Tina and Gooshie, pleased to see they were handling operations superbly.

The orb glowed brighter and a sound emanated from it. "Admiral."

Al looked towards the voice. "Yes, Ziggy?"

The arrogant sounds from the computer droned, "I believe there is a 96.2 probability that Dr. Beckett is not fully in possession of his memory."

With a little annoyance, Al snapped back, "What are you talking about Ziggy? I've seen him. He's doing fine."

"That is not what my analysis shows." The ego was definitely present today.

"Then you need to rerun your programs. I know what I saw. Now excuse me while I brief the team." Al took the next hour and a half to brief the Control Room staff on what he learned since arriving back to the complex. One of the techs commented on his rather formalwear and Al quipped, "Well, I'm always dressed for the occasion," earning him a laugh from the group.

During the briefing, the Control Room's ventilation problem reversed. Now, instead of being cold, the place was getting hotter. Al loosened his tie and rubbed his face. Looking at his watch, he realized that he'd been up for thirty and a half hours and he was tired, wasted even. He figured he should check in on Sam, since it had been nine and a half hours of those hours since he'd seen him

Gooshie fired up the Chamber and Al again went to find his partner. He noted that the scene had changed significantly. All of the men from the meeting were there, but ladies had joined them and they were at what looked to be the local watering hole. Several couples were dancing, and Al was somewhat amazed to find that Sam was one of them. Not that he didn't know the Kid could dance. Sam just didn't always take to the ladies quite this quickly. He smiled, seeing Sam so relaxed. He wasn't sure how the physicist would be handling the leap this far into it. It looked like he had nothing to worry about.

He saw Sam look up at him and he waved again. He was a little concerned that Sam's face had taken on a look of apprehension. He wondered what could have the physicist so troubled. Al watched as Sam continued to talk to his dance partner, a very pregnant and beautiful blond woman. Al continued to stand by the jukebox, hoping that he and Sam would be able to communicate soon.

Sam took the woman back to a table and talked to her a few minutes more before walking over to the jukebox. As Sam passed him, the younger man looked directly into his eyes before continuing on to check out the music. Al glanced over to Sam and noted that he seemed ready to talk to him now. Okay, so maybe he was becoming more comfortable in public places. Maybe it was Pat Boone's singing, Thee I Love. It certainly created a peaceful mood.

Al waved his hands indicating the location. "Isn't this great? I mean, isn't this just great? Brings back so many old memories." He paused a moment and then asked, "Hey, have they got "Be-Bop-A-Lula" on there? Got me though some long, cold nights at MIT." His voice and countenance took on a lascivious nature. "Be-Bop…and a little Lithuanian girl…named Denessa. She was in the Chemistry Lab researching the a…"

He was certainly not prepared for Sam's first words to him. The man suddenly interrupted his story. "Am I dead?"

Al was shocked, eyes widened. "What?"

Sam continued, his eyes haunted. "Dead. Am I dead? It would explain a lot. I could be in a reverse reincarnation that's entered in mid-life."

Al threw out a hard chuckle. He was the one that usually popped the jokes. Sam was often just a little too serious and often his jokes just didn't go over the way he hoped. "That's a good one, Sam."

Sam looked surprised. "You know my name."

Al shrugged and threw out, "I'm not that wasted." He continued to chuckle.

"Why do you know who I am when no one else does?" The young scientist's eyes begged for an answer.

Al eyes narrowed and he looked at Sam. Red flags were going off big time now. "Are you serious?"

Sam continued. "Dead serious." He uneasily added, "No pun intended."

Al rubbed his face, realization dawning. He looked at Sam again, this time realizing that something had obviously gone wrong. It wasn't that Sam was handling the leap well. He realized that the physicist was in survival mode, going along with the flow, trying to figure things out. "Oh, my God." Al paused a moment. "You really don't recognize me do you?"

Sam answered simply and softly, "No."

Al continued, "Or remember the experiment?"

Al felt a chill go up his spine as Sam confirmed his fears by asking, "What experiment?"

Al remembered the protocols Sam had set up as he developed the project. He knew he wasn't allowed to tell Sam anything that he didn't remember. Okay, then he had to find out what that was and quickly. "What do you remember prior to waking up this morning?"

Sam answered, frustration in his voice, his body animated. "Other than my name and a...a telephone number, not a whole hell of a lot." He continued, leaning forward and becoming excited, "What experiment? If I'm part of an experiment, then this all isn't a psychotic hallucination, is it? Is it." The last was said as a statement and not a question.

Al was floored. He walked away, unsure of what to do but gravely disturbed. It came out in his voice. "Ahhh…God. That putz Ziggy was right."

Sam's forehead creased a bit as if a thought was coming to him. "Ziggy. I remember a Ziggy. Little guy with bad breath."

The man Al had liked from earlier that day spoke. "You're slipping, pard. No one's gonna fall for that old talking to someone who's ain't there gag."

Al walked out quickly, leaving Sam back by the jukebox. Walking towards the door out of the Imaging Chamber and into his own time. He talked to himself as he walked. "What the hell is going on? We need to get to the bottom of this. Sam's not going to be able to request for the retrieval program to be run, so I'm going to make sure we get him back pronto." He headed out of the chamber.

As he entered the Control Room, Ziggy's voice stated, "I believe that Dr. Beckett is in some distress."

Al growled out, "Yeah. I can imagine he is. He doesn't have a clue as to what's going on."

Ziggy answered back, "As I predicted."

Al looked up at the orb, angry that the only thing that was working as planned was the damned computer the Kid had built. Built with an ego, no less. Al was very troubled and strangely angry. His friend was in a real dilemma and he knew he needed to get him back quickly.

One of the technicians turned to Al. "Hey, we're having a party up in the cafeteria to celebrate Dr. Beckett's theories being proven true. You might want to go up and at least make an appearance. After all, you're the only partner here now."

Al nodded. Even if he'd just learned exactly how whacked this situation really was, he couldn't let on to the rest of the Project. At least, not yet. They would find a way to get Sam back. After conferring with Gooshie, he learned there wasn't much they could do until the later that night. Gooshie was planning to work straight through, to get the retrieval parameters correct. He told Al he'd call him as soon as they were ready to attempt the retrieval. Al decided to make that appearance.

Al figured it didn't hurt that he was still wearing his tux. When he walked into the cafeteria, he found the project staff that weren't on duty whooping it up big time. The red haired beauty from coding, Brenda, walked up to him. "Isn't it just great, Admiral? Dr. Beckett was right. It's a first for sure!"

Al smiled. "Yeah, Brenda. It is great. Sam's likely to get another Nobel for this." He just wished he could silence the voice that was telling him that things were likely to get worse before that would happen.

He was handed a glass of champagne. While he'd mostly given up alcohol ever since that event with the vending machine, he figured after a night like tonight, he could use it. He would have many more before he left the party.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXo

By seven p.m. Al had been up for 36 hours straight. Tina suggested that perhaps they should hit the sack. He agreed and they went back to his apartment to get some sleep. Al was bushed and he needed to get some sleep or he wasn't going to be in shape to deal with anything. He still needed to contact the contracting officer, Jake Zorcats to let him know that Sam's theories had been proven. He slept, knowing that Gooshie would let him know when he was ready to run the retrieval program.

Al was contacted a few hours later to join a meeting that Gooshie had called before trying to retrieve Sam. He indicated a desire to change first but Gooshie said he needed to come to the Control Room immediately as the optimum timeslot was coming up quickly. Al pulled a robe over his pajamas and headed down. Gooshie handed him a cup of coffee as soon as he entered the door. He knew the Admiral hadn't had much sleep and from what he'd heard, had partied rather heartily through most of the day. The programmer felt he had enough to worry about without having the Admiral ready to "shoot bear."

They fired up the system and entered the retrieval program. Things seemed to work for a moment and they could tell they had Sam and were pulling him back but suddenly, everything stopped and then went back to the way it had been. It was as if the activation energy wasn't there and there was no way to get over the hump and over to the other side. They'd have to try again later.

For the next couple of hours, the group looked at the possible reasons why they hadn't been able to retrieve the good Doctor. In the midst of this discussion, Gooshie stated that Thursday was the earliest they could attempt it again. Al did some quick calculations and realized that would be Tuesday for Sam. Ziggy had continued to indicate that Sam was having difficulty. He said he could feel Sam's frustration. Suddenly, though, things seemed to be okay and Sam was handling things well again.

Once they had developed several scenarios, Al decided he'd better to go see Sam. Maybe his friend would be able to remember more after a good night's sleep. He certainly hoped that Sam could shed some light on to why the retrieval program hadn't worked.

Gooshie looked at him strangely. "Aren't you going to change clothes?"

Al shrugged. "Why? No one but Sam can see me. I think I need to see how he's doing. Anyways, who knows? Maybe seeing me like this might jumpstart a few of his neurons into remembering more and helping us get him home."

Al entered the Imaging Chamber and after the short centering exercise, he found himself in the woods, or at least what would be woods to Sam. There was a river and Al watched as Sam appeared, wearing waders. It brought back to the older man memories of a few fishing trips he'd taken Sam on. While Sam had enjoyed those trips, he'd never really gotten a handle on how to properly cast a fly.

He watched as Sam came up the bank and started looking at his fishing rod. Al walked over to his friend and asked, startling the man, "Is that a ginger quilled spent wing…maybe a blue dun?" Sam face was still pure confusion. Al rubbed his face, "I don't know. I've got such a damn hangover, it could be a Coors' pop top."

Sam reached for Al and, when his hand went through the hologram, he gave a slight, subdued scream, as if he was too scared to make more of a sound. Sam fell back and continued to back away from Al.

'Ah…don't yell, pleeaasse!" Al grabbed his face. Almost to himself, he groused, "I should have stayed in bed with Tina." Sam was giving him a look as if he wasn't sure if Al wasn't there to hurt him somehow. "You still don't remember me, huh." Sam shook his head, indicating his lack of recognition. His face indicated extreme wariness. "That's sad, pal. Very sad." Al continued on, "My name is Albert. Albert what, I can't tell you because it's restricted. Most of what you're gonna want to know is restricted. So it would be easier for us if you don't ask a lot of questions." Al took a sip of his coffee.

Sam asked, "What are you?"

"That's a question, Sam." Sam gave him a look that indicated he thought Al was playing games with him and he just wasn't in the mood. Al had seen that look on Sam's face many a time. Seeing him now, his lips pursed, Al decided he'd better move on quickly.

"I'm a man…like you."

Al watched and simply said "Umm," as Sam tentatively reached out again and found his hand going through Al. He could tell that Sam was really disturbed and was glad to see he held it together, simply smiling a nervous smile while observing, "Not like me."

Al looked at Sam, begging with his eyes for the friend he'd come to know over the years to hear him and accept what he was going to tell him. "Oh…no…This isn't me. This is a…a neurological hologram. It's an image that only you can see and hear."

Suddenly Sam answered as if he were reciting a poem he'd committed to memory. "Created by a subatomic agitation of carbon quarks tuned to the mesons of my optic and audinodic neurons?"

For a second Al thought Sam might be on the road to understanding what was happening. He acknowledged the answer was correct by answering, "You got it."

Sam looked surprised and confused. Al's hopes were dashed a second later as younger man asked with passion, "How did I know that?"

The sadness that Al felt at that moment was tangible. At this point, he was just hoping that they could figure out why the retrieval program hadn't worked that morning. Going into his professional mode, he let Sam know what the computer was predicting. "Ziggy has come up with five different scenarios to exp…

"Ziggy!" Sam interrupted, hope appearing that he was remembering things and just maybe could make some sense of this nightmare. "Ziggy. A little guy with bad breath."

Al hated to be interrupted like that. The Sam he knew wouldn't do that to him, but under the conditions, he couldn't quite blame the Kid. With great patience, he explained. "No, that's Gooshie." He went back into his explanation mode. "He programs Ziggy. Ziggy's a hybrid computer."

Sam started to pace. Al knew that Sam tended to pace when upset or while trying to figure something difficult out. He told Al once it helped him think. Al figured right now, Sam's pacing incorporated a little of both. The scientist stated aloud, "Hybrid computers an..and neurological holograms didn't exist in 1956."

Al conceded, looking down at the handlink. "Only in theory"

Arguing back, Sam responded adamantly, "But this is '56!"

Al could see his friend struggling with this knowledge. He'd seen Sam over the years making strides in areas that would confound even the world's most eminent experts in the fields of physics, computer science, and medicine. The physicist was a Nobel recipient. Seeing Sam like this and not being able to help him more was physically hurting the older man. Covering that pain, he answered, "Well, it is for you, but it's not for me."

Suddenly the younger man asked the question that Al had feared would come. With a hopeful look on his face, Sam voiced, "Wha…What's my last name?"

Following the protocols, Al answered definitively. "Ah, if you can't remember, I can't tell you."

Al had to give the man credit for trying. With total sincerity, Sam stated, "It's important."

Al had been a part of many secret projects. He knew the need to keep things from those who didn't need to know. Sam had created this project. But he had also written the protocols. Still, it bothered him that he had to tell his friend, "But it's also on top of Ziggy's No-No list." He gestured with his hands to showing the magnitude of why he couldn't tell Sam. "Dou…Double stars!" Knowing that Sam himself had put the double stars on the list didn't make this any easier.

Still struggling to understand the nightmare he'd found himself in, Sam asked plainly, "Why?"

"God, this wasn't what I signed on for!" thought Al. Sam had told him, they would simply be observing. They would be seeing history as it took place. He'd never mentioned that this could happen, that Sam himself would be functioning at a level that made the fact that he held six doctorates a kind of sick joke. He knew that Sam wouldn't consciously do anything that would cause him to lose his memory, so this had to be an unexpected result of leaping. No, this observing stuff was really hard. "I can't tell you that either."

Getting upset, Sam barked, his voice raw, "Well, what the hell can you tell me?

"Well, basically what you already know. " Here it was. He could restate what Sam knew but perhaps he could state it such that Sam might be able to follow the thread a little further. "Eh…that you're…ah…part of a… time travel…experiment…that…went a little Caca." He said the final words quickly since even he didn't like the way the words came out. He wasn't surprised at Sam's reaction.

Incredulous, Sam repeated, "A little… caca?"

Al didn't answer but looked at Sam, expecting him to blow a gasket. He was glad when all the man did was ask, "How little…caca?"

"Well, you're here!" Al stated excitedly, his entire body animated. "Ah, which is a biggie! I mean, that's a first. It's Nobel Prize time. You should proud of that." Al said it matter-of-factly, hoping to turn Sam away from his line of questioning. He should have known better.

"And?" Sam asked, obviously knowing there was more to this story.

"And…ah…ah…we're experiencing technical difficulties in…ah…retrieving you." He added a little laugh at the end, but he could read the signs. Sam was just about to go over the edge. On the one hand, it was good to see him reacting like the friend he'd come to know as they'd spent the last eight years of their lives building this damned project. On the other, he knew that Sam was not taking this news well.

Sam started to walk off. "That's great…" The younger man turned and looked into the older man's eyes saying his name sarcastically, "…Al."

The way that Sam said his name hurt. Al wanted to say something back but he knew that Sam couldn't even remember the fact that they were partners. Couldn't remember all the good and bad times they had been through since they first met. Couldn't remember that they had been best friends for over eight years. Still, knowing all that didn't take the sting away. It took all his discipline to hold his tongue.

Sam continued to pace and rant. "I wake up in '56 with a memory like Swiss cheese and you're experiencing technical difficulties?! Who's brainchild is this…yours?"

Sam was clearly upset and while Al couldn't blame him, it still hurt that Sam would think he would do this to him. Still, Al knew this was a situation in which he needed to keep his cool. He looked away from Sam for a moment and then looked back, answering with a small, barely noticeable sarcastic grin, "No…not mine." He looked at his watch, trying to break away from the feeling Sam's accusation, even if not true, had caused. "I haven't got a lot of time and I have to find out which of these scenarios can explain why we couldn't retrieve you this morning."

Sam looked surprised and softly asked, "You tried?"

Al realized that the man in front of him had been worried that no one was trying to help him return to the life he'd known, even if he couldn't remember it. Thinking back to his days back in Vietnam as a prisoner when he'd seen what the belief that no rescue would ever come could do to a soul, he answered, "Of course, we tried. You wouldn't leap."

Sam seemed to think that he was being blamed for the failure of the retrieval. "So now it's my fault?"

Al had to follow each scenario's path to find the root cause of the failure. "Possibly. Did you tell anyone that you're not Tom Stratton?" He figured this was just a formality. After all, that was one of earliest rules that Sam had written, back at the beginning. Certainly he'd remember that.

Sam's eyes narrowed and a look like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar captured his face. He tried to look away but finally answered uncomfortably, "Ah…Sort of."

Al's heart sank. "Oh, Sam. Retrieving you is dependent upon everyone here believing that you're the person you replaced."

Sam was animated. "They didn't believe me! How could they!? I look in the mirror and I don't believe me!" The ludicrous nature of the situation obviously didn't escape him.

Explaining, Al clarified. "Oh, that's to be expected. To us, Tom looks just like you."

Sam asked, a slight whine in his voice, "He's with you?"

Al continued to explain, and tried to cheer Sam up at the same time. "Of course. How do you think we located you? When you went in, he came out. If it's any consolation, his memory is full of holes too."

Sam seemed to be trying to put this all together in some semblance of logic. It broke Al's heart to see him so lost. He realized that if he'd just warned Sam not to say anything, then perhaps the retrieval would have worked. After all, Al was convinced that his partner would only have leapt if he knew the retrieval program would work. Sam just didn't know there would be a memory loss. And now he'd told someone he wasn't Tom Stratton. Well, Al wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He'd tell Sam what needed to happen to assure the next retrieval attempt would work. "Now everyone has to believe you're Tom Stratton if we're going to able to retrieve you on Tuesday."

"Tuesday." Sam said this, a little sarcasm showing through. Sam walked over to the tackle box. He bent down to retrieve something out of it. With a voice cracking with emotion, he continued. "Tuesday's going to be a little late. I'm…ah…" Sam must have been thinking of the irony in this as he gave a weak laugh before continuing, "…I'm scheduled to test fly the X-2 on Monday."

Al was shocked. He tried to think quickly. Gooshie had told him that Tuesday was the earliest they could try to retrieve the physicist. He tried to lighten Sam's mood, "You ever think of taking flying lessons?"

Sam was looking down. He seemed to take a moment to compose himself before looking up at Al, with a look that encompassed both the irony and fear that the younger man was feeling.

Al added after seeing his friend's face, "Just a thought."

Al told Sam he'd be back. He had to check with Ziggy to see if there might be some other factors involved and see if anything could be done to change the timeline for the retrieval attempt. Sam nodded and walked away to towards the part of the stream he was going to fish in. As Al watched him walk away, he noted that Sam's shoulders were sagging, a sure sign that Sam was feeling little or no optimism regarding his chances for the future. Shaking his head, Al punched the exit code into the handlink and joined the world of his present.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXo

The team was adamant. There was no way to retrieve Dr. Beckett before Tuesday. Al asked for more scenarios to be run. There had to be a way to help Sam get back to the here and now, safely. Then he went back to the apartment to get some more sleep.

Arriving back he found Tina still asleep. Al slipped off the robe and rejoined her. He snuggled up to Tina, holding her. She awoke.

"Al? Is everything okay?"

"Not really, Tina. Sam's not doing too well right now. We've got to help him."

"I know. And we will. But right now, you need your sleep."

Al nodded. He'd developed the ability to fall asleep quickly while in the Navy. When on alert, one often had to catch sleep whenever one could. Al put that skill to use now. Even so, it was difficult to get the uneasiness he felt about this whole situation under control. The rest he received was not optimal.

The next morning, Al awoke to the scent of fresh coffee and frying bacon. "That you, Tina?"

"Who else would be here making your breakfast. Sometime's Al…"

Al smiled. He really liked this woman. She was one of the most stunning women he'd ever met and had brains to match her beauty. It was a heady combination. He walked into the kitchen area and sat down. Tina served him bacon, eggs, and coffee. She knew he'd had more champagne the day before then he usually had. She figured the breakfast would help ease any symptoms of the hangover he was most likely experiencing.

Tina tried to understand Al's pain. She'd known Dr. Beckett for a number of years and when he'd asked her to join him at the project, miles away from anything that Tina would consider civilized, she'd hesitated.

Sam had convinced her to at least give it a try, promising a professional experience that he was sure nothing could top. She'd felt that due to his recommendations to colleagues on her behalf, when many saw her as only a air headed woman instead of the scientist she was, had helped her obtain the positions she enjoyed over the past few years. She felt she owed him and once there, realized that Sam's promise wasn't empty.

Tina knew that Sam's mind set him apart from even most of the top scientists. He seemed able to make leaps of logic and faith that no one else would or could conceive of. It was one of the things that had first lead to their friendship. At one time, Tina had considered Sam to be a potential romantic conquest. After all, he had that magnificent body and his mind was just as exciting. But, she learned, Sam had an almost Puritan attitude toward sexual matters and that just didn't fit how she wished to live her life.

So, it surprised her to no end when she'd met his partner and found him to be as open in that arena as Sam was closed off. After a few weeks on the project, she'd been smitten by the debonair and dashing Admiral. And over the months they had been getting to know one another, she'd learned how deeply the older man cared about her friend the physicist. It was as if Al saw Sam as a son or brother. She also knew without question that Al would be there for Sam. She realized that both somehow, in a totally platonic way, of course, completed the other. She knew the bonds of friendship were strong between the two men.

While Tina cleaned the kitchen, Al got ready. When he came back out, he was dressed in a Kelly green silk shirt with a stand up collar, a black and gold vest and black slacks. Afterwards, they had headed over to her apartment to let her get ready herself. While she'd gone into the bathroom to clean up, she told him to make himself at home. She was rather surprised when she'd come out later and found Al sipping bourbon and watching a game. Since she'd come onto the project, she'd only seen Al drink a little wine at dinner. He always seemed to shun anything stronger. He certainly usually didn't drink during the morning hours.

She walked over and bent down beside him. Putting her hand on his arm, she asked softly, "Al, you all right?"

He turned to face Tina. Seeing her shock at the glass in his hand, he stated, "I just figured that this might help me get through this situation."

"But Al, are you sure that's wise?"

"Probably not," he conceded and then sighed deeply before continuing. "Tina, you should have seen the look on Sam's face when he learned we won't be able to retrieve him before Tuesday." He put down the glass and ran his fingers through his hair. "Sam is caught in something he didn't see coming. You know the incredible mind he has. Now he can't remember hardly anything at all. He's just doing his best to survive." He looked down and explained further why he was so affected. "You know, Sam had that look when I told him we tried to retrieve him that I saw on the faces of the prisoners in Vietnam when they lost hope. It brought back so many memories. What if we can't retrieve him, Tina? I just can't face that right now."

Tina nodded slightly. "Okay, Al. I know this is hard on you. If you want to drink the whole bottle, I won't stop you. But you gotta know it won't really help." She paused before adding, "And we'll get Sam back. I can just feel it."

"I know, Tina. I just don't know what else to do right now."

She smiled. "Well don't drink too much right now. We have that brainstorming session you called in about an hour. Al agreed and put the glass of bourbon and water into the refrigerator. They went down to the Control Room to check in on things before starting the meeting. All evidence indicated that Sam was doing fine. Satisfied, he and Tina left for the meeting to discuss the results of the scenario modeling and to consider other ideas. Every possible and even impossible scenario was being considered.

When they started the exercise, pretty mundane concepts were shot around the table. However, after an hour or two, the ideas became quite imaginative and bizarre. Shoot him into orbit, have him raise his metabolism with amphetamines…anything and everything was considered in the marathon brainstorming that took place. All of these were entered into Ziggy to compute the odds that a particular solution would result in bringing Dr. Beckett home. While the computer computed the odds of the suggestions as requested, it was insistent that it knew the solution. The problem, according to Ziggy, was that the experiment had changed. Drastically.

Al asked for a full analysis to be run with every scenario documented under multiple parameters. He indicated they would reconvene the following morning at eight a.m. The team broke and Tina and Al headed back to her apartment. Al retrieved the glass he'd left earlier and drank the rest of it. He had quite a few others to chase it.

Over the course of the day, Al had almost taken her up on her offer to finish off the bottle. As it was, he put a pretty good dent in it. Al just wanted his mind to stop going back to the idea that he wasn't going to be able to help Sam. Tina spent most of the day just watching and providing moral support to her most recent lover. She stayed with him and did her best to stave off the fears that Al was feeling. Al continued to check back periodically on Sam and was glad to hear that his friend was handling things well. Occasionally, Ziggy would read elevated stress, but mostly, everything was within acceptable parameters.

The next morning, Al regretted his decision to turn to the bottle again. He recalled when Sam had helped him defeat this demon before and realized that this wasn't the answer. He had the mother of all hangovers and although he'd rather stay in bed and nurse the blasted thing, he knew he had other things to do. Al got out of bed and headed to the shower and got cleaned up, dressing carefully in a red patterned shirt and tweed slacks. The belt he put on had a little silver tip to it. He added a black tie and a black fedora to the mix. It had been 29 hours since he'd last seen Sam. Although he'd wanted to see his friend in the past, the extensive energy required whenever the Imaging Chamber was used caused Al to hold off until he had something that needed to be passed on to the man in 1956.

When the meeting convened, they went over the results of the scenario analysis, which had been run in triplicate. The results still came out the same. By ten thirty a.m. it was determined that these comprised the best data they could find. While Al didn't want to believe what he was being told, he decided it was only fair to present the information to Sam. He found his partner in the X-2 hanger, looking over the test vehicle he was schedule to fly the next day. Al decided he should let his friend know he was there.

"Pretty simple, huh?"

Sam jumped at the voice. "Can't you just fade in or something?"

While Al didn't want to upset Sam anymore than necessary, the fact that his appearance shook him was not at the top of his list of things to remedy. "You tell me how to fade in agitated carbon quarks and I'll make the Scientific Journal."

"Just don't sneak up on me," Sam requested.

"You still don't remember our project?" At Sam's confirmation that he indeed did not recall the reason he was in 1956, Al looked for the string he knew he'd put into one of his pockets. Finally finding it, he pulled the string out to use as a visual aid. While he'd used the same technique to brief the president earlier that day over the video phone when he'd been asked to explain where Dr. Beckett had gone, it hurt him that Sam's mind was so badly affected that he needed to show him the simplified explanation.

"Bad enough I have to give…Dick and Jane explanations to the President, I've got to give you one too." When he had the string set up, he started in. "All right. One end of this sting represents your birth. The other end, your death. You tie the ends together and your life is a loop. Ball the loop…and the days of your life touch each other out of sequence. Therefore, leaping from one point in the string to another…"

Suddenly Sam seemed to get it. "Will move you backward or forward within you own lifetime…"

"Which is our project! Quantum Leap!" Al watched Sam carefully, hoping that this was the catalyst that would bring his mind back to its former glory.

His hopes dashed down again when Sam stated with frustration evident in the tenseness of his face, "I can't remember."

With a heavy heart, Al walked through the hologram of the plane rubbing his temple.

Sam's annoyed voice requested, "Al, I wish you would stop doing that."

Al stopped for a moment, truly confused. He threw his hands into the air. "What?"

Sam clarified, "Walking through things."

Annoyed again at the seeming pettiness of Sam's request, Al decided to humor him. "Oh, you want me to walk around something that isn't even here? All right. I'll walk around it. There. How's that." His voice left no question that he found this to be a waste of time.

Sam's mind still didn't seem to be able to grasp the strange reality the two of them shared. He asked, "Why…Why isn't it here?"

Al realized again that it wasn't Sam's fault that he couldn't remember the very things that his lifework had set into motion. Al patiently explained. "I'm a hologram to you, right? Well, you and everything around you is a hologram to me."

It happened again. Something had triggered in Sam's mind. "You're in the Imaging Chamber."

"You remember." Al didn't want his hopes dashed again but Sam's answer sounded promising.

"Vaguely. A cavern somewhere."

Al confirmed that. "New Mexico."

Sam asked him, "What year is it there?"

Al was about to answer and then realized this was yet another thing he couldn't tell Sam. "You'll find that out. If we get you back." Damn, he hadn't meant to let that 'if' get in there.

"If?" God, it broke his heart to hear Sam question that. Al had to get him back to a more positive outlook.

"Well, see, Ziggy's theory is really…it's a load of crap. I mean, you gotta believe that God, or Time, or something was just waiting for your quantum leap to…ah…to correct a mistake."

"A mistake in time?" Yeah, Sam had the same reaction he did.

Al tried to explain it in simpler terms then Ziggy had explained it to him. "Something that happened in the life of Captain Tom Stratton in '56 since he's the one you bounced out. Eh…once that's put right, you'll snap back like a pimp's suspenders."

"Once what's put right?" This was the old Sam, questioning as he went. Al didn't think his pal was going to like the answer.

"Tom Stratton was killed trying to break Mach 3 in the X-2. If Ziggy's right, all you have to do is break Mach 3 and live." He ended the statement with a little clap.

Al was right. Sam didn't like the answer. Not one bit. He lit off like a rocket away from Al. The hologram followed. "Aaa…"

Over his shoulder, the physicist answered, "No way."

"Hey, pal, it's not my theory," Al tried get Sam back into discussion.

"There's got to be another way." Al realized that Sam's stubborn side was coming to the fore. He'd have to tread carefully.

"The next one's only got a fifty-two percent chance of working"

He was stunned when Sam answered, "I'll take it," before hearing what it was.

"It requires you to be at ground zero during an atomic detonation." He watched as Sam's face indicated this was not something he would consider doing. "You asked," he added in acknowledgement of Sam's reaction.

"Well…what else have you got." Sam still wasn't willing to consider the scenario Ziggy had predicted had such high odds of success. Not that Al could blame him. After all, it sounded pretty hokie to him too.

"This isn't a shopping list you know." Al pulled up the handlink and checked the other scenarios that the brainstorming had uncovered. He wasn't encouraged by the predictions Ziggy had figured of success. "The odds drop into the low teens after that. Your best shot is freezing the brain until all electrical activity has ceased."

Sam wasn't impressed. He looked at Al as if he'd lost his mind to even suggest such a ludicrous plan. Mirroring Al's hand gestures he stated, "That's called death."

Al wryly replied, "I never said it would be easy." He watched as Sam reacted to the sarcasm in his voice before turning and walking off again. Sam was definitely upset. "Hey, slow down, will you, I'm fighting a hangover."

Finally, fed up with Sam's refusal to listen, Al stated, "All right. You want a sure thing? I got it for you." He watched as Sam stopped and turned to him. The look on his face showed the physicist wouldn't take kindly to any more of the nutty ideas that had been generated during the brainstorming session. There was one that had stuck in Al's mind as the sorriest solution ever. Still it was a viable option. He laid it out for the Kid. "You don't do anything, you just live. Baring accidental death or a fatal disease you be back in forty years. That's your safest option."

Sam asked, "And Tom Stratton?" Al wasn't surprised that Sam would consider all the ramifications. He always did tend to put the welfare of others high on his priorities.

"Well, he'll go on living forward from where he's at now. Technically he could end up the oldest man alive." Al hadn't thought about that before. It was an interesting concept.

Now that Sam was thinking about the others that would be affected, he continued. "Well, what about Peg and Mikey? I don't want to hurt them but I can't go on pretending I'm Tom."

Al pointed out the obvious. "Hey. They were going to lose him on Monday anyway." Still, he figured that he had to try and get Sam to listen to the cockamamie concept of his brainchild computer. Al may not like what it was telling him, but it seemed to be the only way to get his friend out of this mess. "Of course, if you bust Mach 3 and survive, they could have him around for another thirty or forty years."

Sam answered explosively. "I can't fly."

Al answered quickly. "I'll be your co-pilot."

Sam responded with the problem as he saw it. "You're a hologram."

Al had an answer to that too. The more he thought about it, this might actually work. "I'm also an ex-astronaut. The hardest part about flying is taking off and landing. The B-50 does the first part of that for you. After that, you just fire a couple of rockets, hang onto the stick, and ka-zak-zoom! Mach 3."

Sam was still concerned, especially with the part of the plan he figured would kill him. "And the second part?"

Al shook his head. "Landing? You could never land the X-2. Not even with my help. So, you don't."

Sam took the leap of logic that Al had been trying to get him to take, leading to an acceptance of the plan. "I eject."

Al was glad that Sam had turned the corner. Now, if it just worked as Ziggy suggested. "Hmm. X-2 does a crash and burn. You float back to earth on a pillow of silk. The moment you touch down, you leap forward, Tom leaps back, and the broad and I are gone to Las Vegas." He figured he deserved a little R & R after this stunt of Sam's.

"It might work." Sam truly was on board now.

Agreeing, Al turned back to Sam. "Of course, it'll work."

Sam had one more argument to posit. "A minute ago you said it was crap."

Trust Sam to bring up his first argument again. He tried to think of the best way to back pedal but finally he just shrugged and let out a breath. "That was before I thought it out." He said hitting his head and realizing it just made the hangover worse.

Sam looked at him with an expression that told him he was willing to give this a try, even though he obviously still had misgivings about the plan. Al had seen that look too many times. It generally meant that Sam had decided to trust Al's guidance in some matter. Sam had learned early on that Al had a street sense about things and often what logically wouldn't seem the best choice was exactly what would provide the best solution. Al seemed to have a six sense about those things and Sam had learned to trust that during their long association as partners and friends. Al figured that even through his Swiss cheese mind, that trust was making itself known. He just hoped he was right this time.

Sam told him about the questionnaire he'd been handed and voiced concern that he wouldn't be able to answer the questions. Al asked him to show him the questions.

Sam looked at him quizzically. "I thought you couldn't tell me anything I don't remember."

"Well, you need to fill out the questionnaire, so I'll need to help you a little, when you can't remember something."

"I can't even remember my last name."

"I told you, Sam. I can't tell you that. Anyways, it isn't needed for the questionnaire. Right now, you're Tom Stratton."

Sam sighed, accepting that he'd just have to resign himself to not knowing his full name. At least, for now. "Okay. They want to know my birthday. I think it was August 8, 1953."

"Yes, Sam. That's your birthday." He noted that Sam wrote it down.

"And I know I grew up in Elk Ridge, Indiana, on a dairy farm. I had a sister, Katie and…I don't remember anyone else except Mom and Dad."

"So put down your sister's name."

Sam nodded and complied. They went through the questionnaire. Sometimes, Al got a little creative."

"So you're telling me I was expelled from school? Why?"

"It was a thing called streaking, Sam. You ran across the campus without any clothes on."

Sam blushed deep red. "You have to be kidding me! I wouldn't do something like that."

Al grinned. "Well, certain circumstances dictated your decision."

Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes, his head tilted slightly. "What circumstances."

"I can't tell you."

"Wait…you can tell me about the streaking but not why I did it?" That whine was back in the Kid's voice.

"Those are the rules, Sam."

The younger man closed his eyes and nodded. "Fine… just a few more questions. Where was I when I first made love?"

"Hell, I don't know. Make something up. It's not like they can check up on it."

Sam nodded but he tried to remember. He had a vague recollection of a red haired woman and him in a passionate embrace. Closing his eyes again he tried to figure out where he was when this memory was created and the closest he could come was somewhere in Massachusetts. He wrote that down.

"Oh. I remember this one. My second best friend in college was Paul Roth. He and I worked with Dr. L…L…oh damn, I can't remember his name!"

"It doesn't matter, Sam. You don't need to know that for the questionnaire."

Sam nodded. He wrote down the answer he could answer. He got through a few others and then came to a question about his most positive influence in high school.

"Just put down mini-skirts."

"Mini-skirts?"

"Yeah. I'm sure you enjoyed the view as much as anyone."

"Okay. Then what would be the most negative influence?"

"Pantyhose."

"You're incorrigible, Al."

"Yeah, well, you got to put something down, Sam."

"You're right, okay. Pantyhose, it is."

Sam answered a question about how he dealt with feeling lonely by indicating he'd put in a video and pop some microwave popcorn. Al told him the silliest craze during his high school years was pet rocks. The final question asked what type of bed he most hated. Sam knew that. "Water beds. They give me motion sickness."

Once they finished the questionnaire, Al told Sam he needed to go back to the project but he promised to come back soon. Right now, though, he needed to get something for the blasted headache that he was positive was not just a result of the excess booze he drank the day before. Sam nodded and headed back to what, for the time being, was 'his' house where 'his' family awaited him.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

Al entered the Control Room again, handing Gooshie the handlink. Gooshie looked at the stress evident on the face of the man before him and asked, "How are you doing, Admiral?"

He closed his eyes for a moment pinching his nose between his fingers. "I've just convinced Sam to follow Ziggy's suggestion. I just hope it was the right thing to do."

Gooshie shrugged. "What other choice do you have? I mean, it makes the most sense…sorta…or at least…um…Ziggy seems to think…"

Al smiled and put a hand on Gooshie's shoulder, bringing him a little closer then he wanted to be to the man's face. The smell was overwhelming. "Sam built Ziggy for this type of analysis. I'm sure there has to be something to his placing the odds so high on the concept that Sam has to fix something that went wrong."

It was Gooshie's turn to nod. "Yeah. I hope this plan of Ziggy's brings Sam back."

"As we all do, Gooshie. As we all do."

Al headed away from the control room and went back to his apartment to get some painkillers. Popping two into his mouth, he washed it down with some bottled water he'd kept in the refrigerator. Realizing he was a little hungry, he heated up some of the spaghetti and meatballs he'd made a couple of nights before. He was eating when the phone rang. He picked it up.

"Hey! Al!"

"Hi, Roger. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Al. I know you love the Lakers…"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'd like you to be my guest in the box at tonight's game in San Antonio."

"Normally, I'd say great but right now, I'm a little busy."

"Too busy for the playoff? Come on, Al! Your team needs your support."

"No. I can't get away. I need to be here. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

"What do you say I have my private jet pick you up? You could be out here in a few hours, watch the game and then head back. I promise, I'll have you back by seven a.m."

Al sighed. He had to admit, seeing the game might just take his mind off the worry that was making his headache worse than what was attributable to the hangover alone. "How about making sure I'll be back by three thirty a.m."

"That early?"

"As I said, it's going to be a big day."

It was Roger's turn to sigh. "Fine. I'll have you back by three thirty in the freaking morning."

Al smiled. "Okay then. I'll come. "

"Right. The jet should be in Roswell by three p.m. See you tonight, Al!"

"Okay, Roger, see you." Al finished up his lunch and then set up the helicopter fly him over to the Roswell airport. Putting down the receiver, he thought about the plans he'd just made. Sam wouldn't be flying the X-2 until tomorrow. He'd be able to get in and out of San Antonio quickly. After yesterday, it seemed obvious that Sam would be just fine. He went to get ready for the game.

A half an hour before he had to meet the helicopter that would fly him to the Roswell airport, he headed back to the Control Room. "Fire up the Imaging Chamber, Gooshie. I'm going to go see Sam."

Gooshie nodded. "Sure, Al."

Once everything was set, Al headed in and placed himself on the disk. He was starting to get used to this routine and now that they know where and when Sam was, it didn't take long to have the Chamber fill with the holographic images of Sam's reality. Al noticed that Sam was sitting in his boxers in a dark room, an old rotary dial phone in front of him.

Al watched as Sam lightly brushed his fingers over the dial, a look of utter despair on his friend's face. Sam finally leaned back into the chair as if he'd given up on some desire. Al was about to say something when he heard a woman's voice.

"Tom?"

"You should be asleep." The sound of Sam's voice held an emotion that Al knew had to have been a result of the past few minutes rather than seeing Peg Stratton.

"And you shouldn't be?" The woman bent down next to his friend. She sighed. "You're worried about breaking the record tomorrow, aren't you?"

Sam answered simply. "No."

Al was glad to hear the lack of fear in Sam's voice regarding his plans for the next day. Al knew then that Sam would be all right that night. The two beings in 1956 continued to talk while Al checked his watch and realized that he'd have to wait until she left to talk to Sam and that could take awhile. It would cut the time just a little too close. He headed back out without saying a word, leaving Sam with Peg Stratton in his arms.

When he reentered the Control Room, he explained that he would be out that night but would be back before Sam needed him the next morning. Gooshie nodded, knowing there was nothing they could physically do for their colleague stuck in 1956. "Okay, Admiral. Keep your pager with you though."

"I will, Gooshie."

Al headed up to the tarmac where he'd scheduled the helicopter. He got in and closed his eyes as the bird pull up off the ground and head toward the airport in Roswell. It was a thirty-minute flight but it gave Al some time to think.

Al had known Sam for over twelve years, ever since they'd met at the Starbright Project. He thought back to that fateful day when Dr. Samuel Beckett had walked into his life and literally saved it. Al had been a heavy alcoholic back in those days. A number of factors had built up in his life, not the least of them being his stint at the Hanoi Hilton, the five divorces, and the nightmares that came to him nightly, brought on by Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

When the vending machine took his dime that day, it was the final straw. He was going to hurt something and an inanimate machine seemed just the ticket. He'd been about to smash the front of the vending machine with a hammer, cursing, "You damned machine, I'll teach you to take my dime!" when he heard a noise. He'd looked up and seen a wide-eyed stranger in the doorway of the cafeteria. The man, tall and sandy haired, had turned and took one step away from the cafeteria only to pivot back almost immediately.

Al had been angry when this intruder had quickly stridden to a position between him and the vending machine. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" the man had asked.

Still irrationally enraged by the loss of his dime, Al had tried to attack the person keeping him from his goal. "The damn thing took my dime. I want revenge." He took a swing at the young man's head.

A strong hand had grabbed Al's wrist, effectively stopping him from continuing his attack on either the vending machine or the man. Stunned, the stranger had finally softly stated, "You've got to be kidding."

"No. I'm not. Now why don't you just let go of my wrist, leave here, and go back to wherever you came from."

"Elk Ridge is a little far away right now."

Al was taken aback. He didn't know what he expected but this certainly wasn't it. "What?"

"Elk Ridge is a little far away right now," was repeated. "That's where I came from." The man paused for a second and then added, "Unless your statement is really more of philosophical question. Then, I'm not sure. Do any of us really know where we come from?"

This interaction had drained the rage away and Al had stood there for a second before collapsing, his energy spent. He felt his wrist being released and had felt strong arms catching him to prevent his falling to the ground. Al had looked up and asked, "Who the hell are you?"

A smile came quickly to the Kid's face. He helped Al back up and then put out his hand, offering it in friendship. "Sam Beckett. I just arrived a few weeks ago. I work in the physics lab."

Al took Sam's hand and shook it. He'd realized how strong the man was when his wrist was immobilized. Sam had continued to hold Al wrist as he'd struggled to keep the older man from doing any damage to the machine or to his person. Al now noted the firm grasp. It spoke of a man of honor, a man of integrity. He suddenly realized this was the Kid all the scuttlebutt had been about the last few weeks. The genius, the boy wonder. The one that the program manager had said had vision as few others he'd ever met. "Captain Albert Calavicci."

"Good to meet you, Albert." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dime. "Here."

"What are you giving me that for, Dr. Beckett?"

"Call me, Sam. I got an extra one the other day. You lost one. I think that will make the machine even. What do you say?"

It was funny but Al found he couldn't say no to the look on Sam's face. He reached out, taking the dime and suddenly started to smile. "Yeah. Even."

"Who knows, maybe it was fate that gave me that dime, Albert."

"Call me Al."

"Okay, Al."

After that, they'd both obtained their choice of soft drink and talked through the rest of the night. Al realized that that meeting was a pivotal point in his life. He'd never understood why Sam had stayed that night, had taken the time to see what was behind the façade he'd built up for so many years but he was grateful. Sam had helped him get off the booze, had helped him regain his career, and had eventually asked him to be his partner on the greatest quest mankind had ever attempted.

Thinking back to that moment, Al realized yet again how much he owed the Kid currently trapped in 1956. The recollection that Sam wouldn't desert him in his darkest hour when Al didn't even know who he was brought on a similar commitment in Al now. He wouldn't desert Sam. He knew at that moment, he'd do anything to get him back.

He noted that they had touched down in Roswell and a cart met the helicopter.

Roger Perkins was a good friend from back in his Academy days. He had served his four years and then left the Navy to start his own import business. The man was a certified multimillionaire. Al smiled as he was driven over to the man's private Lear jet.

He got on the plane and used the phone to call the project. Hearing from the Dr. Barchow, Gooshie's counterpart on the second shift, that Sam was sleeping, he figured his little jaunt over to San Antonio would actually be good for both of them. After all, Al needed to handle the stress of observing as much as Sam needed to handle the stress of leaping. He settled down into the cushions of the plane and soon was asleep.

An hour and a half later, Al landed in San Antonio. Roger had sent a limo to pick him up knowing that as it was, Al would miss the first quarter. Al smiled. He figured there must be a reason that Roger was so keen on having him at the game. There would probably be something about a DoD contract that Roger was trying to mount a proposal for. He knew that Al could tell him the best people to pull together. The Lakers game was just a perk to repay him. He had to admit it was a nice perk.

He arrived at the game and headed up to the box. The rest of the evening was sheer pleasure as Al allowed the game to take his mind off of his other friend, so far away in time and space. He'd deal with that situation tomorrow.

It was an exciting game and went into overtime. The Lakers beat San Antonio 98 to 96. Al had to admit he had a great time. Roger had indeed asked Al to help him with problem on pulling together a proposal. "You think you could help my contract specialist with this, Al? I'm willing to pay a hefty consulting fee."

Al figured that could help with his alimony. "Which agency?"

Roger answered, "Department of Defense."

"What area?" Al wanted to make sure he could do this work before committing.

"PX Operations."

"Okay. No conflict of interest. But tonight only. I have to get back to the project I'm working on now."

"How is Sam?" Roger had met Sam years before when Al had first retired from the military. Roger had been hoping to have Al work for him. He'd been saddened when Al decided to work with Dr. Beckett in developing some secret project. All he knew was that Al was based somewhere on White Sands Missile Base. Outside of that, he hadn't a clue.

Al looked down for a moment. "Oh. Well…you might say he's having a time of his life."

Roger smiled. "Glad to hear it. Say hi to him when you see him. And you know, Al, if you ever want to trade partners…"

"Not a chance, Roger. I'd never leave Sam," stated Al with a little more ferocity than needed.

Splaying his fingers, Roger acquiesced. "Okay. Okay. You can't blame me for trying."

After the game, they headed over to Roger's apartment in the city where he was having a small party. He promised that he'd get Al back to the airport by one o'clock, assuring that he would get back to New Mexico with time to spare. At the party he introduced him to Martha Totters, his contract specialist. Al and she talked for quite awhile and then Al indicated that he had to go. Martha offered to go with him so they could continue talking on the plane. Al agreed.

They headed back to the airport in the limo, continuing to work on the proposal. Roger really wanted to be awarded this contract, and he knew that between Martha and Al, he'd be assured a winning team. The two worked all during the flight. When they arrived in New Mexico, Martha indicated that she would be staying a few days in Roswell. She told him she hoped they could finalize the plans for the proposal. Al agreed that if he could find some time, he'd come back to do that. Then he took the helicopter back to the project.

When he arrived, he took a little time to clean up. He changed into a gray suit with a pink shirt and then headed down to the Control Room. Gooshie briefed him on what had transpired through the night. Dr. Beckett's vital signs had stayed normal. As they were talking, Ziggy voice provided an update. "Admiral, I think you should go into the Imaging Chamber now. There is indication that Dr. Beckett is experiencing a sharp rise of stress."

The team went into action and as soon as he could, Al took the handlink and headed back into the world of 1956.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

When Al centered himself on Sam, the X-2 had already dropped from the B-50 and was falling like a stone. Al heard Sam exclaim, "I can't fly!"

Al figured that calm was important now. After all, Sam still could screw things up if he didn't do things exactly right. "Relax. I can"

"Al?" The relief in Sam's voice was sharp and true. "Al? Where are you?" he continued to ask.

Still maintaining calm, Al's hologram image popped into the cockpit. "Right here."

Over the speaker, the voice of Tom's friend came through loud and clear. "Hey, Tom, you read me? Come in, X-2."

Al ignored the other voice. He gave Sam the directions that he needed. "Follow my lead. Light off one and two."

As the planes afterburners surged with power, Sam was thrown back in the plane and the sound of "Aahhhhh," exited his frame.

Al wished he could feel what Sam was experiencing but a hologram couldn't undergo that part of the reality. "Uhh." He had to laugh a bit at Sam's reaction though. Finally he acknowledged his friends encounter with the world of high performance flight before leading him again. "Kick in the butt, ain't it? Match my movements."

He watched as Sam followed what he showed him exactly. He admired that in Sam. The man was willing to follow his instructor's direction. He figured that maybe that part of Sam's personality had developed from the many years he spent with piano teachers, honing his skills on the black and white ivories.

Knowing that he wasn't about to smash into the world at high velocity, Sam finally exploded. "Where the hell were you?"

Al answered calmly. "I was at the Lakers game. It went into overtime."

Sam didn't like that answer. "A ballgame? I nearly died because you were at a ballgame?"

What did Sam want?! So he needed some stress relief. Okay, the Kid was trying to guilt him. Two could play this game and he knew exactly how to bait his buddy. He changed the pitch of his voice a little. "It wasn't just a ballgame. It was a playoff game. At the party later, I met this dish named Martha."

Sam, in his typical choirboy attitude stated, "I guess I should thank God you didn't spend the night with this Martha."

Okay, so he'd have to bend the truth a little. Still, if Sam reacted like Sam, he'd get him now…hook, line, and sinker. "Well, I did. Coming up on Mach One."

"Coming up on Mach One." Yeah. The way Sam said it, he had him. God, the Kid was just too easy.

Al took a puff off his cigar. With a voice devoid of emotion, he stated, "Mach One three, fifty thousand, nosing over."

Sam matched his report, well, almost. He seemed to be getting a little nervous. "Mach One three, fifty thousand, no…no…nosing over."

Keeping his voice calm, Al gave him his next instruction. Knowing that this was a sensitive maneuver, he watched Sam carefully, stopping him at the right moment. "Now ease the stick forward, that's enough." The plane continued on its path. So far, so good.

Sam had started to catch on, giving the next report on his own. "Mach one seven, fifty-six thousand."

Al continued to watch the gages. He gave Sam the next report. "Mach two sixty eight, sixty nine."

Sam again repeated Al's words verbatim. "Mach two sixty eight, sixty nine."

Al continued to covey a business as usual attitude. Sam didn't need to know that moving at this speed, there were potential pitfalls. "Level at seventy thousand Mach two four on profile."

"Level at seventy thousand Mach two four…on profile," Sam repeated. Then suddenly, the wonder that Sam would express when he saw something he found beautiful burst from his lips. "Wow. That's incredible." Al gazed over at his buddy, thrilled to see a grin on the physicists face. Sam still had his appreciation for amazement firmly in place. A little grin crossed Al's face as well. Sam continued, "What now?"

Al gave him the order that would make him the fastest man alive. At least the fastest in 1956. "Punch three and go for it."

Sam continued to report his progress. "Mach two three, two four, two five, mach two seven, skin temperature seven fifty."

Al started to get apprehensive as they pushed closer to their goal of Mach three. "Mach two eight…"

Suddenly, Sam's voice took on a concerned sound as well. "You hear that?"

Al continued his gage reading but answered Sam's inquiry. "Mach Two nine. Yes."

The warning light went on and the warning started sounding. Sam realized why coffee had been on the mind of the other pilot. "Tony didn't smell coffee, he heard it perking!"

Al's voice was tight as he told the man next to him, "It's the fuel, Sam. The heat is boiling the fuel." He was worried. "Shut em down, Sam. Shut em down! Shut em down!"

Sam didn't though. He kept pushing the plane. Al couldn't understand it. Why wouldn't Sam listen? Finally, Al realized there was no time left. He gave his last order and prayed that Sam would listen this time. "Pull, Sam. Eject!"

The next thing he knew, the plane blew apart. He saw parts of the plane falling all around him. And then he saw Sam hit the ground the parachute falling over him.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

When Ziggy centered Al on Sam again, he found himself inside an ambulance. Dr. Berger was checking Sam over. He was very upset and stated bitterly, "You guys are all alike. Losing your plane is worse than losing your wife."

Al answered his venom, even though he knew the Doctor couldn't hear him. "I'd trade my ex-wife for any wreck they got."

Sam looked at Al, venom in his voice as well. "I'm still here."

Dr. Berger, thinking Captain Stratton was talking to him answered, "Hmm, about time you realized it."

Sam continued. "What now?"

"I'm going to take your blood pressure." The Doctor continued to believe he was in a two-way conversation with the pilot.

Al answered Sam by again suggesting the plan with the next highest odds of success. "We could try the A-bomb theory?"

"No, thank you." Al wasn't surprised that Sam wouldn't go for it.

Dr. Berger again answered, "Well, I'm sorry, but it's necessary."

Al reminded his friend, "It's not my theory, Sam. I never bought into that good deed, put time right bull, not really."

The finality in Sam's voice bothered Al. "So I'm stuck here."

Once more, the Doctor answered Sam's statement with his own. "I don't think so. You test at the hospital; you should be able to go home."

Al continued, talking over the Doctor. "Maybe not. Maybe you could leap back when you least suspect it. Like tonight when you're sleeping."

Sam was incredulous. "You really believe that?"

Sam looked up at the Doctor, amazed at how this conversation had gone smoothly on two different channels. "Absolutely. I don't see any reason to keep you at the hospital."

Al needed to get out of there. He didn't like leaving Sam but he had to get back and see if there was something they'd missed. He didn't want to promise Sam anything he couldn't deliver though. Seeing Sam this devastated after Ziggy's plan failed was not something Al ever wanted to see repeated.

Figuring that continuing the little lie he'd convinced Sam of while they were in the plane; he decided to use Martha as the excuse to head back into his own world again. "I don't know, but…in the meantime, there's no reason for me to stay here. And I would feel really bad if…if Martha woke up and found out that I'd gone without even saying good morning. You know…it's not nice." He gave one last look at Sam as his buddy leaned back, upset written all over his face.

He barely heard the Doctor finish his side of the conversation with, "Unless your blood pressure keeps elevating."

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

Al walked back into the Control Room, giving the handlink to Gooshie. "What happened?" he barked out at the orb above him. "You said he'd leap back as soon as reached Mach Three and stayed alive."

The arrogant computer answered, "There must have been other factors that were missed, Admiral."

Al shook his head. "You're supposed to take into account all the factors. That's why Sam built you! He's counting on you to get it right, Ziggy!"

"I understand the grave nature of this situation. However, I can only work with the parameters I've been provided. Obviously, I need to expand the search somewhat." Al again wondered how a computer could be in a snit.

"Well, expand then! I expect an answer within the hour." With that he stormed out of the room, and headed towards his apartment. Once there he entered and locked the door. "Damn, damn, DAMN!!!!! Why the hell wasn't Sam leaping back?" He looked down as his hands, which were shaking badly. "This is nuts. Beckett, you crazy bastard! What the hell did you get yourself into?" Al sat down and rubbed his face with his hand. There had to be a reason. There had to be. But right now, he needed to calm down big time. He wasn't going to be able to help Sam if he couldn't be rational. He was still in his quarters when Ziggy announced throughout the operational complex. "Dr. Beckett has leapt."

XoXoXoXoXoXoXo

Al headed down to the Control Room, fully expecting to find Sam back. When he arrived, he was saddened to find that not only had Sam not returned home, there was no one in the Waiting Room. "Where is he, Ziggy?"

"I can only speculate that he is still moving along his lifeline. He has obviously not bumped anyone out of their time stream."

Al gave the orders to continue searching. In the meantime, he returned to Ziggy to find out what had gone wrong with the prediction.

"I did not take into consideration others that Captain Stratton's situation would impact."

"What do you mean, Ziggy?"

"Originally, Captain Stratton was not the only one to die. His daughter was still born after Peggy Stratton went into premature labor."

"So?"

"In looking at the history prior to Dr. Beckett's leap and after he left, I'd postulate that Dr. Beckett saved the life of the Stratton's daughter. I now show that a baby girl was born to the couple a few months after Dr. Beckett broke Mach 3. They named the girl Samantha."

At the name, Al's head snapped up. "Samantha?"

"Yes, Admiral. That is the name I conveyed."

"Huh!" That was unexpected. "So now, what do we do?"

"We wait, Admiral. There is nothing we can do but wait."

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

The first two days after Sam had leapt away from Tom Stratton's life, the project crew had thought that Sam would be found any moment. After forty-eight hours though, they began to get nervous. What if Doctor Beckett never landed again? What if he was truly gone?

During the previous few days, Al had considered little else than living through the crisis. Now, he needed to get to the bottom of things. Once events had been brought under some semblance of control, Al called the Contracting Officer, Jake Zorcats, and let him know the news.

He reached the man just before lunch. "Jake. Sorry I didn't call before, but things have been a bit hectic here."

"Why is that, Admiral Calivicci?" The man sounded somewhat bored over the phone.

'Well, Sam leapt last Saturday night."

"He did what?" The interest in the Contracting Officer's voice was piqued.

"He leapt. We've been observing him the last few days. He's leapt out and we're waiting until he enters the timeline again to try to retrieve him once more."

"Hmmm. Well, I'm glad that worked."

"What worked?" Al didn't understand what the man was talking about.

"I spoke with Dr. Beckett earlier on Saturday evening to discuss the future of the project."

"Jake, we have a deal. You talk to me. Not Dr. Beckett."

"Dr. Beckett is an equal partner in your project. I couldn't reach you, so I talked with him."

"Why would you be calling on a Saturday night?"

"I had to get the report in Monday. As I said, I tried to call you, Al. When I couldn't reach you, I needed to speak with someone in charge."

Al was feeling rather irate. "What the hell did you tell him, Jake?"

"The truth. That if we didn't get some significant results soon, the contract would be cancelled."

"You told him that?! What the hell were you thinking?" Al's stomach fell to his shoe. He thought he might be sick. He held it together, though. Time enough to fall apart later.

The Contracting Officer was nonchalant about the whole thing. "He deserved to know."

Choosing his words carefully and doing everything he could not to explode violently at this nozzle, Al answered, "Yes. But there's a way to tell a sensitive genius that his dream is in danger of being pulled away from him and a way not to tell him. You choose the latter."

"Well. It sounds like a moot point. If Dr. Beckett's theories have been proven; there should be no reason to cancel the project."

Al needed more time before he laid the whole story out to the Contracting Officer, to the Committee. Maybe they would be able to retrieve Sam soon and then there wouldn't be a problem. Sam would get another Nobel, the Government would get the ability to be a fly on the wall at events important to national security, and everyone would win. Then again, Al had been through enough situations to know that this situation didn't portend to have that nice happy ending. Something was bugging him big time.

Al got off the phone thinking. "Okay, Sam got a call with bad news. What would he have done?" Al snapped his fingers. Sam's office. He needed to check his office.

He entered the room and knew that something was up. There was a glass on the desk, mostly water but with a slightly yellow tinge to it. He picked it up and sniffed. The faint aroma of five-day-old scotch with water assailed his nostrils. That meant Sam had been drinking and the Kid didn't handle alcohol too well. Heck, Sam's usual choice of alcoholic beverage was lite beer and he'd nurse one of those for quite sometime. Scotch…well…scotch was not exactly the best choice for thinking clearly.

Next, Al looked at the pads of equations that were stacked up on Sam's desk. His whiteboard too was covered with equations. Al knew the project well enough to know he was looking at the kit and caboodle of them. Sam had obviously been checking his work. He picked up one of the pads and recognized the retrieval program. There were notes on it, showing where Sam was having difficulty in solving certain equations. He picked up that pad and headed towards the Control Room.

Arriving a few minutes later, Al asked Gooshie and Tina to help him go though the coding to see how Sam had fixed the retrieval program. That might lead to understanding how to get him back. What they found shocked Al down to the tips of his toes. Sam hadn't solved the problems. He'd leapt in spite of that. Al left the room and headed toward the nearest restroom to splash water on his face. "He did it. He leapt without fixing the program. Sam did this to himself. But why? Why didn't he wait until I returned?"

Al headed into the Control Room again. "Ziggy?"

"Yes, Admiral." Those arrogant tones were back.

Al went into interrogation mode. "Did Sam talk to you before he turned on the Accelerator and radium ring Saturday night?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He asked me two questions."

"What were they?"

"He asked what the odds were that this project had a chance to continue if the government wished to cancel it."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I estimated that if he were to need to obtain private funding the odds were less then 15 percent for the continuation of the project."

"What else did he ask?"

"He asked what the probability was that he could convince the government to continue funding this until he could verify and validate the retrieval system would work."

"What did you tell him?

"I estimated that the possibility of him convincing the government to continue funding at less then four percent."

"Why would you tell him that?"

"Because, while Dr. Beckett is a brilliant scientist, his ability to obtain funding is quite limited. He does not possess the skills in that arena that you do."

"So, you were answering the question whether Sam himself could obtain funding."

"Yes. That is what he asked me."

"What are the odds that I could obtain the funding necessary?"

"98.2 percent odds of success."

"Why didn't you tell him that?"

"He didn't ask me."

"And you didn't think that he might need to know that?"

"Dr. Beckett had recently recoded my central core. He was concerned that I was providing too much information. He'd decided to limit my ability to go outside of the parameters of his questions."

There it was. Sam hadn't asked Ziggy the right question. Between his fears of having the project cancelled and his dream destroyed, the alcohol he'd ingested, and the fact that he hadn't asked Ziggy about his partner's ability to keep the project going, Sam had decided that leaping was his only solution. He'd seen no other choice. And now, God only knew if they'd ever get him back. And based on Al's experience with God, the ex-altar boy believed that didn't give Sam very good odds at all.

Anyone watching him would simply see the man nodding to acknowledge this latest revelation. Only one that really knew him would understand that Admiral Albert Calavicci, US Navy, Retired was on the verge of an explosive reaction to the news. He turned to Gooshie and informed him he would be back later. When Gooshie had inquired where he would be, he had repeated that he would be back later. Gooshie seemed ready to ask again when Tina pulled him back.

"Don't say anything more, Gooshie. Let him go. He'll be back."

Gooshie nodded. They both watched as the Admiral walked out, back ramrod straight. They didn't see him again for three days although they knew from Ziggy's logs that he'd stayed in touch with the computer, checking to see if there was any change in Sam's situation. Ziggy flatly refused to indicate the whereabouts of the Admiral.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

When Al returned, he was much calmer. Not happier, but calmer. He still couldn't believe that Sam would pull such a boneheaded stunt. Still, he had to admit that circumstances that were beyond his control had led to it. If Sam had gone to the fundraiser, he wouldn't have been here to take the Jake Zorcat's call. Then Jake wouldn't have given him the news that that government was thinking seriously of canceling the project. And if Sam hadn't been scared that his dream was about to be destroyed and had been thinking clearly, he would have waited and made sure that all the questions were answered before taking his flying leap. Ifs and more ifs were between Sam remaining in May, 1995, and the current reality.

Still, if nothing else, life had taught Albert Calavicci that much as you might like to change things, you had to accept the good with the bad. Sam was somewhere in time and hopefully would land at some point in his lifeline soon. Al hoped with all his might that they'd find Sam again and get him home. Smiling, he thought about what he would do then. "I'll kick his ass for pulling such a stupid stunt, that's what I'll do! Right before giving him a bear hug."

In the meantime, they'd just have to wait. The next afternoon, while Al was in the Control Room working with Gooshie and Tina on trying to get a handle on the glitches in the retrieval program, Ziggy announced that Sam had indeed leapt again. A few minutes later, Verbena told Ziggy the name, date, and location the leapee had provided. Gooshie looked to Al. He nodded and the Imaging Chamber was brought on line.

Al entered Sam's world while a dog was growling at him. Sam was trying to show the dog who was the boss but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Al got the dog to back down. Sam apparently thought he'd done it himself

One of the other players in the bullpen spoke up. "That's the damnedest thing I ever saw! How'd you teach him that, Foxy?"

Sam started to turn to answer the man when he saw Al giving the dog a smile. "WhaaaAhhahhhahh," was Sam's response.

Al and Sam watched the game for a few minutes. Seeing that the team had just experienced a double, Al wasn't too impressed with the team's response. He stated to Sam, "No wonder they're in the cellar. They got about as much enthusiasm as a ten dollar hooker."

Sam started headed down to the shower area behind the bullpen. "Come on," he yelled over his shoulder at the silver jacket clad hologram

"I want to watch the game," Al had replied with an attitude. He was still mad at Sam. After all, the physicist had turned everything upside down. If he'd just waited to talk to Al, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Sam walked up to Al and directly requested, "Will you follow me?" Since no one else could see Al, it looked as if Sam was talking to one of the players.

The confused ballplayer replied, "I can't. I'm up after Matt."

Sam, realizing his error, tried to cover. "Yeah…Right."

The Manager looked concerned. "Something wrong, Fox?"

Sam looked a little embarrassed. "Ah…no…I'm a…I'm…a…I'm…ah...I'll be back in a minute. I'm just gonna…you…you know."

"Make it snappy," requested the Manager. The game went on a while longer. When the next batter got a strike on the first pitch, the Manager exclaimed. "Next son of a gun that swings at a first pitch I'm gonna fine fifty bucks."

Sam had headed down the steps but noticed that Al was not following him. He turned back and under his breath called out to the hologram. "Al."

Al looked at the game for a moment but then turned to follow Sam. The Kid stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Looking up at Al, he asked, "How'd you get here so fast?"

It was Al's turn to look surprised. "It's been a week since you quantum leaped."

"A week?" Sam exclaimed. He turned and started walking down the hall. "A couple of minutes ago, I was in a hospital with Peg."

"Well…you've been bouncing around in time, Sam." He decided to give Sam something to think about. Let him think that everyone was doing just fine back in what should be his present. "May have seemed like a couple of minutes to you, but we've been popping champagne for six days. Oh…it was a hell of a party too." He tried to think of something really wild. "Wha…Gooshie…he got so wasted he had Ziggy printing X-rated pictures. And you know Brenda, that cute little redhead in coding? She got so turned on…"

Sam reacted all right. Al wasn't sure if he hadn't laid it on a little too thick. After all, even if Sam had done this to himself, he didn't remember doing it. At this point, the Kid was truly lost. "No, I don't know Brenda…or…or I don't remember Brenda…and I certainly don't care how turned on she got." He turned to Al and let him know the depths of his confusion. "I'm in a real identity crisis here, Al. I mean one minute I'm Tom Stratton and the next I'm a ball player named Fox."

Al filled Sam in on his life, or at least the life he'd bounced out of 1968. "Ken Fox. 32-year-old third baseman for the Waco Bombers. According to Ziggy you hit 415 in '63 and got called up to Chicago, where you broke your leg sliding into second and got sent back down to recover." Al paused a moment, then added, "That was five years ago."

Sam took in what Al had said and then ran for the closest mirror. Tentatively looking, he saw the visage of a curly haired, rather pale-faced man reflecting back at him. "Oh, boy," plaintively exited his mouth.

Al followed him into the room. Well, the Kid had to learn that you play with fire, you sometimes get burned. Still, he could try to cheer him up a little. "Hey, come on, Sam. We're missing the game."

Sam looked at him, pain in his eyes. He stated with a little heat in his voice, "The hell with the game."

Al tried to cajole him a bit. "It's your last one in organized ball. In a couple of minutes, you're gonna fly out to center. The Bomber's are gonna finish another season in the cellar and you're gonna hang up your spikes."

Continuing to look in the mirror, the Kid asked, "Then what?"

Al continued as if he was selling him a new car. "Well, you're going to open up a Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise. You'll marry a girl named Sue and have two kids. 'Course you don't have to be around for all of that." Al added Ziggy's explanation that was their only hope to get him back to the project. "Soon as we can figure out what needs to be…put right, yo…you'll leap out of here."

Sam was animated. He wasn't buying it. It didn't work last time; why would it work this time? "Like fly the X-2 to Mach 3 and live."

Al understood Sam's trepidation, but the truth was, Ziggy himself admitted that he hadn't looked far enough. "Hey! Ziggy blew it!"

"Yeah." Agreed Sam as if he felt that was the biggest understatement of his life.

Al continued with the explanation. "He didn't research it enough. Originally, Tom Stratton not only died, but his wife went into premature labor. And the baby was still born."

Sam seemed incredibly interested. "And now?"

"Tom's alive! Peg gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Seven pounds, eight ounces." Sam smiled at that. Al continued. "Funny thing. They happened to name her Samantha. Seems like someone wanted both Tom and Samantha to survive."

"Yeah." Sam continued smiling, a sort of goofy grin playing on his face.

Suddenly, Al turned to Sam. "Come on! Jackson's up. He's gonna hit a homer with one on."

Sam looked in the mirror again. He noticed that Al was not reflecting in the mirror. With a bit of awe in his voice he stated, "You're a vampire."

"What?!" Al couldn't believe that Sam of all people would say that. "Neurological holograms don't reflect, Sam. Obviously, when it comes to Quantum Physics, you're still a mental slug." Sam's face fell, and he frowned at Al's statement. Al tuned back toward the bullpen. "But we can talk about this later. Come on. I hate to miss the game."

Sam stated the obvious. "You already know how it's going to end."

Okay, so the Kid wasn't going to let him see the game. Time to sucker the choirboy in again. "I knew how it was going to end when I took Brenda into the filing room. I still took her."

Sam let out a breath quickly, as if he couldn't believe Al's attitude. Yep, the choirboy was still there. Al watched as Sam walked further toward the locker room.

Sam asked simply, "Why didn't I leap all the way?"

"Twelve years in a blink isn't bad, pal. Couple of more of those you'll be back home." At least, Al hoped that would happen 'cause at the moment, he knew the retrieval program was hosed. Sam would have to get home on his own.

Sam seemed to grasp the situation a little better now. "If I leap forward again. What if I leap back?"

Al put his cigar in his mouth. Speaking around it, he answered, "That's always possible."

Sam definitely was starting to see the problem. "In other words, I could be bouncing around in time forever."

Al only disagreed on one count. "No. Nobody lives forever."

The look on Sam face at that point was one of resignation and sadness. But there was with a little heat in his voice when Sam asked, "What does Ziggy say I have to put right to leap this time?"

Al answered simply, "He isn't saying.

Incredulous, Sam turned, "What?!"

"He's depressed."

"He's a computer." Sam obviously couldn't believe what he was hearing. A pain look crossed the physicist's face.

"He's got a big ego. I think he knows what you have to do…ah…he's just afraid to print it out in case he's wrong."

Sam looked at Al with a face that indicated that he thought he was caught in someone else's snare. "Who created this Ziggy?"

Al was fed up. Sam was responsible for this whacked situation and needed to hear the score. Using his cigar for emphasis, he pointed to his partner. "You. Quantum Leap is your project, Sam. You're the genius behind it. At least you were before your brain got magnafoozled."

Sam wasn't buying it. He smiled as if he knew something that Al didn't. "No. No. See, I'm a medical doctor. I found that much out."

Al continued with the truth. "You hold six doctorates, Sam. Medicine is just one of them. Your special gift was Quantum Physics. Time Magazine even called you 'the next Einstein.' The truth is, if there's one guy who could figure out how to bring you back, it's you."

Sam looked at Al as if understanding somehow that what he was hearing was true. He'd leapt for some reason he couldn't remember and now he was stuck. Maybe never to get back home. The pain of hearing this sunk in. The emotion was raw in his voice as he softly stated, "And I can't even remember my name."

Al looked at his friend. He considered for a long moment what he should do. Seeing Sam so distraught, he decided to tell him his name. He knew the power of knowing one's name. The years in Vietnam had taught him that much. Still, he knew he was breaking Sam's own rule. Finally, he sighed and stated. "It's Beckett." He watched for a moment as Sam turned his name over in his mind. "Sam Beckett." He'd said it once more before leaving him, knowing what Sam would do with his newfound knowledge. What he'd known Sam would do ever since he saw the Kid sitting in front of the rotary phone at Tom Stratton's home.

XoXoXoXoXoXo

Al heard Sam coming up behind him before he saw him. The residual tears in Sam's eyes were all he needed to see to know that Sam had had an emotional release. Still, it was hard for him to accept Sam's next words. "Thanks, Al."

With a waving of his cigar, Al brushed this off. He told his friend, "Go fly out."

He definitely wasn't thrilled when he heard Sam posit his theory as to why he was there. "I don't know, Al. Maybe I'm here to win this one." Rolling his eyes, Al watched Sam walk toward the steps of the dugout to take his turn at bat. He observed Sam stop to talk to the Manager. Then Sam put on his helmet and headed out towards home plate. Al looked at the pitcher carefully before recentering himself on Sam, watching as he took the bat with a look of determination.

Al spoke up. "You serious, Sam?" He pointed out toward the pitcher's mound. "You notice who that kid kinda looks like out there?"

Sam acknowledged the observation. "Yeah."

"Yeah? Yeah? You're gonna fly to center." Who did Sam think he was?

Sam answered with a sort of belief that Al hadn't heard before. Sam had set his mind on changing things. "Fox flied out to center. I'm not Fox."

Al laughed, almost derisively. "Yeah…well, you're not Roy Hobbs either," Al said as he waved off Sam's commitment. Then he heard the thunder and the lightning. This seemed a little spooky, and Al didn't particularly like spooky.

The announcer gave the rundown on the man whose aura Sam inhabited. Al watched as the physicist stepped up to plate and took his position as a left-handed batter. He wondered if Sam was a switch hitter like Ken Fox too. He knew that Sam had played little league ball when he was a Kid, but his friend always claimed he didn't have time to play on the project teams, so Al had never seen him at bat.

The first pitch was so fast that Sam didn't even try to swing. "Strike One"

The Manager seemed happy about that though. "Well, now. At least there's someone around here that can follow orders."

Sam looked a bit chagrinned. But a new determination set in. The next pitch came in and Al was certain it was even faster then the previous one. "Strike Two."

Al walked over to Sam. "That last one had to be over 100 miles an hour."

Sam stretched out. Running his hands together, he answered, "I'll get the next one."

The Umpire asked, "Did you ask for time?"

Sam never took his eyes off the pitcher. He answered the Umpire, "No. Play ball."

"All right. Let's go."

Al heard the announcer make his pitch for the sponsor of the game. It had to be the most bizarre advertising pitch he'd ever heard. "When it comes to the final out in life, whether you pop out, ground out, or fly out remember, Schneck and Schneck will always be there to bring you home." The announcer's voice changed to a slight different pitch as he started calling the game again. "Fox steps back into the box, he digs in, behind O and two in the count. He looks determined not to let another pitch go by."

Sam stood there; sure he was supposed to do something great. But when that final ball was pitched and the bat was swung, it missed entirely. The words "Strike Three" rang in Al's ears. Then he noticed the ball had been fumbled. With great excitement, Al yelled out to Sam, "First! First! First! First!"

Sam seemed to hear and he turned and ran to first base. The catcher, trying to assure the final out threw to the first baseman. But the throw was high and Sam rounded and ran towards second base. Touching second, he continued to run.

Al continued to provide support. "Go for third, Sam!" he yelled. The first baseman threw the ball and the third baseman missed the throw to him as well. Sam made sure to touch the base and then headed towards home. "Come on in! Come on in!" Al encouraged.

As Sam approached home plate, Al changed his yell. "Slide! Slide!" and Sam did just that. Reaching for the plate he made is just in time. "Safe!" Al watched as Sam won the game for the Bombers, all due to errors and the willingness to take advantage of them.

Al watched the smile form on Sam's face. If Sam could find this kind of happiness, then maybe it wouldn't all be bad. And, he could always see the game as a metaphor. Maybe someday Sam would make it home and truly be safe. Until then, he'd do what he could to help his friend get through this. He'd built the project with Sam for a different purpose, but he decided, whatever the purpose, he'd be there by Sam's side.

A moment later and he found himself in an empty Imaging Chamber. There were no more holograms. Ziggy informed the project that Dr. Beckett was again traveling along his lifeline. Al just hoped that the next time he leapt in somewhere, it would be home.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXo

Al headed back to his apartment. He entered and went to the long dresser in the room, opening the middle drawer. He had the boxes holding his medals, the patches from this NASA days. Moving one of the boxes out of the way, he found the black velvet covered ring box and took it out.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he opened the box and found the dime sitting in the area where one would normally find a ring. He took the dime out and starred at it. The past twelve years come roaring back and a tear played at his eye. He wiped it away, and took a deep breath. He put the dime back in it the slot and closed the box, putting it back in the drawer.

Ziggy's voice announced that Dr. Beckett had yet leapt again and there was a new leapee in the Waiting Room. Al squared his shoulders and walked back into the complex, not sure what the future or even the past held, but certain that no matter what, he would be there for the duration.

FINIS