Thanks. I, uh, really appreciate your trusting me like that.

Lets just say I liked your face.

Oh. I have an honest face?

No. But I like it.

- Face and a girl, "When You Comin' Back, Range Rider?"

Dr. Ruth: Well, then . . . tell me about your girlfriend?

Al: Ah . . . ah . . . her name is Tina.

Dr. Ruth: Uh-huh . . . so tell me more.

Al: More about Tina?

Dr. Ruth: Uh-huh.

Al: Ah . . . well . . . ummm . . . oh, well, ha-ha-ha, she's got . . . great . . . casabas!

Dr. Ruth: What are these . . . casabas?

Al: Well, you know . . . melons, ho-has, honkers, hooters, headlights, ah . . . ta-tas . . . teeters, tweeters, tom-toms, tee-tees?

Dr. Ruth: Say it!

Al: I'm trying to say it! Meatballs, mangos, cream pies, cupcakes, eh . . . bangers, bouncers, bolumbas!

Dr. Ruth: Al!

Al: Bazongas! BREASTS! . . . I said it!

Dr. Ruth: You see . . . it wasn't that hard.

Al: Yes it was.

- "Dr. Ruth"

Chapter 8: Future Connections

MONDAY, MAY 12, 1986

MALIBU, CALIFORNIA

10:00PM PACIFIC TIME

A soft click echoed through the empty hallway before the door to the penthouse swung open. Dr. Samuel Beckett stepped inside, letting out a sigh of relief for one thing that went right tonight. Closing the mahogany door behind him, he made his way to the nearest end table and dropped the keys on it. They clattered onto the glass surface, breaking the silence that enveloped him like a thick fog.

His eyes were already adjusting to the darkness of the room, but he had no intention of having to stumble his way around an unfamiliar place where he . . . no, where Face supposedly borrowed to live in. He reached over to the table lamp and reached up under the shade, finding the switch and turning it until it clicked. Once it did, the room was bathed in a gentle light . . .

Sam blinked for a moment to try and let his eyes adjust again from going to hardly any light, to now having plenty of it. It was almost blinding for a moment. Silently, he cursed himself for not thinking like Templeton Peck . . . like Face . . . and checking the penthouse first to make sure it was really empty before turning on the light. It wasn't that he expected it to be occupied, but based on what he had learned since Leaping in and the recent car chase in order to escape from the MPs, he had to be on his guard.

The time traveler started to make his way through the penthouse, searching each room meticulously for any signs that someone may have been in there that didn't belong. He could feel his heart start to race again, almost like it did in the 'Vette when he had to escape from the MPs. 'Calm down, Sam,' he thought to himself, trying to ease his nerves, especially since there was no signs of anyone else being in the penthouse besides him.

Satisfied that he was alone, he allowed himself a chance to relax for the first time that day. Sam walked over to the plush black couch and flopped down on it, breathing out a huge sigh of relief. He let his mind wander, as he recalled some of the Leaps he had been on before. There were some very uncomfortable and squirrely situations that he found himself in at the start, but this Leap had to have taken the cake . . . and then some.

Why couldn't he just end up with an easy Leap sometime? Did God, fate, or time find it amusing to have him end up in the most awkward and uncomfortable situations possible? Did whatever entity or force that controlled his Leaps enjoy watching him squirm and stumble his way through things until Al could show up? It sure seemed like it, and it happened far too many times to count.

In spite of the fact that he was living the life that belonged to another man, albeit temporarily, Sam took a moment to enjoy this rare opportunity to relax. Based on what he had just been through in the last 24 hours, it seemed as if the chances to be able to do so would likely be very rare with how they were constantly on the run. They were not only running from the police themselves, but also the military police, and anyone else who likely wanted to turn in the A-Team and collect the reward that likely was put up for their capture.

From where he sat on the couch, Sam looked around the penthouse. His green eyes admired the décor, realizing that Templeton Peck had considerable taste. Well, no . . . maybe not directly since this penthouse had been another elaborate scam. His mind quickly recalled the brief encounter in the lobby, once he entered the building, with the superintendent who asked him . . . or rather Arthur Williams . . . if he had still had the key to the penthouse or if he lost that one too.

So, that's how Face managed to do it . . . to get this place. He posed as the owner, who likely wasn't around often enough for people to match a face to the name, and managed to get the superintendent to give him a key. 'Smooth,' Sam mused to himself as he started to understand a bit how the con man worked. 'Real smooth.'

The physicist's admiration of the penthouse didn't end there. Even though he hadn't thoroughly looked throughout all the rooms yet, just from what he had seen here in what seemed like the living room, everything looked, breathed, and even smelled expensive. It was almost as if it was built for a millionaire. The black couch he sat upon was very plush and looked like it could seat at least three or four people. Right across from the couch was a couple of chairs, which looked similarly designed, so that meant it likely came as a set.

Separating the couch from the chairs was a mahogany coffee table. The frame itself was made of that wood tone, but the center was pure glass, to where you could look down through it and see the eggshell colored carpet that lined the floor. Gold inlays bordered the glass on the coffee table, and also the four clawed feet upon which it rested.

Getting up from the couch, he walked through the living room, spotting a black grand piano. The lid was propped open, like with most concert pianos, which meant that the owner relished in the pure sound of the music that trickled from the instrument, and didn't want it muffled. With a small smile upon his face, he walked over to it and sat down on the bench. His hands lightly played across the ivory keys as his mind wandered . . . wondering if Templeton Peck also knew how to play the piano.

He'd probably have to ask Murdock about that once he had a chance.

Murdock . . .

As Sam stood up from the piano and continued to take in the décor within the penthouse, his thoughts dwelled on the A-Team's pilot. He hadn't expected finding an ally in the institutionalized Texan, but Al trusted Murdock implicitly and Sam trusted Al. Besides, with how they were on the run from the authorities, especially the Military Police, having someone who could back him up . . . someone who knew what was going on, who he really was, and could help make sure that he could pull this off . . . was definitely to his advantage.

Although he had taken a tremendous risk going back to the VA, Sam was glad that he did so and had the discussion that he did with Murdock. It not only gave him some insight about the person he had Leaped into, but also about the person he visited. He could see why Murdock and Al had become fast friends after that initial meeting at the DOOM Club, and how they were able to practically pick up where they left off in that friendship after almost 15 years, making it seem like no time had really passed between the two.

But, Sam had seen something else as well . . . a side of Murdock that he likely didn't want other normal people to see. Sure, he was locked away in the psychiatric ward of a VA hospital, but during that whole conversation Murdock seemed just as sane as he did.

From what he recalled of bi-polar disorder, many of those who had it . . . even without diagnosis . . . lived normal lives within society. Completely normal, average, everyday lives, and very rarely did the mental disorder ever manifest itself publically unless something triggered it. But, if that was the case, why was Murdock living within the VA? Was he faking the insanity for some reason? Even Al had expressed doubts about it, himself.

The intelligence he had seen from the pilot was astounding, even if it was just a bit of a snippet. He never expected it, which made him wonder how Murdock looked at the world. People who were brilliant often perceived things around them very differently, and it often was perceived as being insane. Murdock was probably the type that looked at ink blot tests and, instead of seeing the obvious shapes, actually had the chemical composition of the ink used for the test pop into his head or was looking for optical illusions. Robert Oppenheimer, who created the atomic bomb, certainly fit within that category. Even Sam was thought to have been crazy with the theories he had developed, especially with applying quantum physics to time travel . . . at least until he had to prove the theory worked before he lost funding.

A thought filled Sam's mind as he recalled the close escape from tonight. When Al had popped in to warn him about Fulbright showing up, Murdock showed no form of concern at all for himself. He only wanted Sam to get away. Did that mean that he wasn't wanted by the MPs like the rest of the A-Team? It was very possible that was the case, now that Sam thought about it, because if Murdock had been wanted chances were the security at the VA would have been tighter than Fort Knox itself. From what Sam remembered seeing when they had dropped Murdock off earlier that day, it certainly wasn't even close to being locked down that tightly.

Making his way into the kitchen, he opened up the refrigerator and looked inside. His green eyes quickly glanced over the contents, eventually settling upon a bottle of beer. Reaching into the fridge, he pulled it out and then opened a drawer in the counter next to it. That was pure luck, but also kind of logical, as it yielded a bottle opener.

Using it to pry the cap off the bottle, Sam walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Sitting down on the couch again, he found what looked like a remote control for the TV built into the wall and grabbed it. Taking a swig of the beer, he turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels, hoping to find a good movie that he could watch. He still wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. What happened earlier with the escape at the VA still had him wound up, so he needed to relax, and what better way for him to do so than with a good movie and a beer?

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1999

PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP

STALLIONS GATE, NEW MEXICO

4:00PM MOUNTAIN TIME

Al walked into the Control Room, with Diane McBride walking right next to him. They approached the console at the center of the room, which was filled with colorful squares. A few cast off a gentle glow from within, the colors from the cubes illuminating off the white clothing that Dr. Irving Gushman wore. The control table reminded the Project Observer of a giant slab of gummy bears that had lights inside . . . or more appropriately, a larger version of the Handlink.

"Hello, Admiral, Senator. I didn't expect to see the two of you here this evening," Gooshie noted, looking at both of them somewhat curiously. He brought a finger up and ran it under his nose, touching his mustache, before lowering his hand again.

Al ignored the comment from the Head Programmer and asked, "What time is it where Sam is?"

Casting a glance at the clipboard within his hands, he paused and cocked his head to the side slightly. His lips moved a bit, although very slightly, almost as if he was talking to himself. After a moment, he responded, "Based on my calculations, approximately 11:30pm Pacific Time."

The Naval Admiral frowned slightly. If there was anything about these Leaps that he hated, it was how it threw off one's sleep schedule. The times between where Sam was, and where they were in the present, never seemed to coincide. What could be 1:00pm where he was in time could be 4:30am at the Project. He knew that, due to growing up on the farm, Sam tended to be an early riser so if they were to go there now, they'd likely wake him up.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Sam could have called Murdock the moment that he got to Face's penthouse, and continued whatever conversation that they had started during Sam's unscheduled visit to the VA. Murdock sure knew how to talk a person's ear off, so that was still a very real possibility as well.

"Is everything all set, Gooshie?" Al wondered. When Diane had made the request earlier in the day to actually meet Sam, he warned the Programmer to expect this visit.

Gooshie nodded and looked over the information on his clipboard one more time. "Yes, Admiral. Once connection is made, we can only maintain the holo for four minutes. Beyond that, and Ziggy will start blowing microchips due to the amount of power consumption in the Imaging Chamber."

"Connection?" Diane inquired, wondering what Dr. Gushman meant by that.

Al drew in a breath and turned to the Senator. "In order for this to work," he began to relate, "you'll have to hold my hand while we're in the Imaging Chamber. It will allow you to see what I see, and for Sam to see and hear you as well. It's why it takes so much power. It has something to do with the neurons and masons, and transference through physical contact, but I won't bore you with the scientific mumbo jumbo."

Diane nodded, her salt and pepper brown hair flowing around her shoulders. "I think most scientific 'mumbo jumbo,' as you put it, would likely go right over my head," she giggled.

Doing this was risky, especially with the huge amount of power that was needed. It had worked only a few times before, but the first time Sam couldn't hear Dr. Verbena Beeks. He could only see her . . . but then again too, that was when he was locked up in Havenwell. The second time, they managed to work it where Sam could not only see, but also hear the Leapee when Sam had to relay her testimony in a rape trial . . . but the power draw was so high that they could light up St. Louis for a month!

Grabbing the Handlink from the charging holder, he looked back to the Senator with concern. This likely was going to be pretty strange for her, just as it was unsettling for Katie McBain who had been through enough trauma as it was prior to when Sam wound up Leaping into her. "Are you sure you're ready for this? He may not recognize you at first with how his memory has more holes in it than a block of swiss cheese," he pointed out.

Drawing in a breath, Diane nodded and then gave the Project Observer a gentle smile. "I'm sure, Al."

Al gave a slight nod himself, and then explained, "Remember, when we first go in there, you won't see anything but blank walls and me. I'll be talking, but you won't see who I'm talking to until I touch your hand."

Gooshie reached over to put his hand on top of one of the colored squares on the console, which began to glow under his touch. "Admiral, the Imaging Chamber is online. Remember, only four minutes of contact, or Ziggy will start blowing circuits and it'll take a while to repair them to re-establish a lock."

Inwardly, Admiral Calavicci cringed at that. Losing contact with Sam for a while, if repairs were needed, could adversely affect his ability to fix history and Leap out. And on this Leap, considering who he had Leaped into, Sam was going to need as much help as possible . . .

"Okay, here we go," Al told her as he took her hand, and walked up to the Imaging Chamber door. Letting go of her hand, he reached over and pressed the button to the left of the door, which allowed it to slide open with a hiss. He knew that Diane could see nothing but a smooth blue wall and floor inside the Chamber, but what Al saw was completely different.

Al looked around the penthouse that Sam was in, and concluded that this must have been a place where Face had taken up residence for himself. He looked at the décor, and murmured quietly, "How very 80s."

Looking over to the couch, he could see Sam sitting . . . well, no sleeping. His head was tilted back, and he snored softly. A gentle light danced before him, which drew Al's attention. Turning around, he could see that the TV was on, and a late night movie was in the final few minutes. A beer rested on the coffee table in front of Sam, which meant that he likely dozed off while watching the movie.

"Do you think he'll be back?" a female voice from the TV asked.

"I don't know . . . but if the Aquamaniac returns, we'll be ready," a male voice answered.

That drew Al's attention immediately as he recognized it as the first Aquamaniac movie where Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith had donned the costume. He grinned at that, wondering if Sam fell asleep before the movie came on, or during it . . . or even if he realized that it was one of Hannibal's attempts to portray the creature from the deep.

Returning the focus to his friend, he hated to wake him up . . . but, Al needed to get this over with quickly since Gooshie was quickly ramping up the power for this effort. If Ziggy's systems held onto the power for too long, it'd fry everything and it'd likely take a few years to rebuild, compared to just a couple of blown microchips if he and Diane kept contact for too long.

"Sam . . ." Al said softly, trying to rouse the time traveler from his slumber.

Thankfully, the time traveler hadn't been sleeping too hard . . . yet. His body jerked a bit as he awoke with a start. Blinking his eyes, he looked around and then spotted his holographic friend. Al was still wearing the Naval dress uniform that he had on earlier in the day. "Al?" Sam asked, almost as if wondering if something was wrong. "Is . . . is everything . . ." he started, his mind still a bit too tired to get the words out fully.

"Everything's fine, Sam. There's been no changes since earlier today, but . . . I do have someone here for you to meet," the Observer told his partner.

The scientist sat up a bit, realizing that he had kinda slumped back once he fell asleep on the couch . . . something he hadn't expected to do. "What do you mean, Al?"

The Navy Rear Admiral looked over to a spot in what seemed like thin air and nodded. He reached out with his hand into what seemed like nothingness . . . and once his hand grasped onto something, or rather someone, the image of another person appeared beside that of Al. Sam could see that it was an older woman, but didn't know who it was.

"Hello, Sam," she said gently.

The Nobel Prize winner looked totally confused, and still pretty much in shock at seeing Al bring a woman into the Imaging Chamber with him. Was this the person that he had mentioned that he wanted him to meet? And, if so, who was she? His green eyes looked over to his friend for some kind of clue.

All the Project Observer did was grin, and wave his other free hand a bit that held the handlink. "She wanted to speak to you herself, so I had Ziggy set it up where you could hear her," he explained softly. "We only have a few minutes, though."

"Al . . ." Sam murmured as he shifted his position on the couch. He clearly looked uncomfortable, but not because of the couch itself. It was the situation overall, Leaping into a criminal on the run who managed to get things by lying and swindling others, and now also seeing the woman whose hand that Al was holding and not knowing who she was.

She looked over to the Admiral for a moment, and felt him give her hand a gentle squeeze. "You don't remember me, do you, Sam?" she asked, returning her gaze to the time traveler. All she could see, at the moment, was the aura of the person that he had Leaped into . . . a man in his early 30s with a very handsome face, blonde hair, and blue eyes. It kind of reminded her of Dr. Beckett . . . at least what she saw of his appearance while looking into the Waiting Room . . . but still a bit different.

"No . . . I'm afraid I don't," Sam responded gently, still very confused by what was going on.

Turning to the person holding her hand, her voice hid the emotions that were starting to build inside of her. "Al, he doesn't remember . . ."

Al looked over to her, and drew in a breath. "I'm sorry. His brain is probably still swiss cheesed."

Not about to be deterred, she shifted her position slightly, still making sure to keep a firm hold of Al's hand. She gazed deeply into the eyes of the Leaper . . . or at least the person that he was inhabiting, and pursued, "For a while, you Leaped into my husband, Tom. You not only saved my life, but also helped me to pass my bar exam."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and wracked his brain, trying to think of what she had just revealed. A memory came flashing back to the forefront of his mind . . . being on a train, kissing a beautiful woman who happened to be a newlywed. It was almost as if a light bulb exploded with how it came back to him. Opening his eyes, he looked straight at her and softly spoke her name, "Diane . . . Diane McBride."

Al looked at Diane, who smiled back at him now that Dr. Beckett remembered who she was. He could tell that she was a lot more relieved now that the initial memory block was gone from Sam's mind and he wasn't talking to an absolute stranger. Still, the Observer needed to clarify something for his friend. "That's Senator Diane McBride, to be exact, the chair of the committee that annually reviews the funding for the Project, Sam. Senator Weitzman would have cut off funding and shut us down long time ago if it wasn't for Diane."

Sam's jaw seemed to practically drop at that. All of the rules that they created about not trying to change their own past, and here . . . standing before him . . . was a person who's life he had saved, and in so doing it also seemed to save the funding of the Project itself. "But . . . what are you doing in the Imaging Chamber with Al?" he wondered, curious as to why she was there.

"I can answer this one, Sam," Al immediately jumped in, trying to spare Diane from a lengthy explanation. He looked at the display on the handlink, and almost two minutes had passed already, which meant that they'd have to wrap this up soon without damaging any of Ziggy's microchips. "Diane stopped by to visit the Project, and a sand storm kicked up. You can't see a thing out there, so she's stuck here for a couple of days until it passes. And, well, she wanted to meet you."

Diane nodded and gave Sam a gentle smile. "Not just meet you . . . but, I also want to personally thank you for everything you did for me. You saved my life, and then helped me to pass my bar exam. I wouldn't even be here, now, if it hadn't been for you."

Sam was totally floored by that statement. Although he recalled what had taken place, no one who's life had ever been affected by what he did ever visited the Project before, much less wanted to meet him in person and personally thank him just as Diane just did. Or, at least he didn't think so . . . although it was hard to know for sure with how swiss cheesed his brain could be sometimes. Even though she was older from the last time he had seen her, she was still just as beautiful. It was obvious that the years had been kind to her.

"How is your husband, Tom?" Sam wondered, trying to see what came of his future. He didn't remember much of what had happened to Tom, since Al had been trying to have Sam change history in such a way that the finance committee would have taken notice and not cut off funding . . .

"Tom is doing wonderfully. He's had a long and successful career as a detective on the police force, and has solved a number of cases over the years. He's been filled with an incredible amount of passion for wanting to help others, and has no desire to slow down," the Senator noted fondly. "He used to speak sometimes of a strange room that he woke up in . . . but I thought for a while that was just him making up one of his stories until I saw the Waiting Room."

A small smile crossed Sam's lips and his eyes seemed to glisten a bit as he told her, "That's great, Diane."

A voice echoed through the Imaging Chamber, announcing, "30 seconds, Admiral." Al recognized the voice immediately. It was Gooshie, giving him a warning of how much time they had left to maintain this before it could adversely affect Ziggy.

The quantum physicist noticed Al's reaction. It was slight, and almost imperceptible. After all of the years they had been doing this, he could tell when Gooshie or Ziggy may have relayed a message in the Imaging Chamber. "Al, what is it?" he wondered.

"We had to pull a lot of power quickly to set this up. Because of that, if we take too long, it'll blow some of Ziggy's microchips," Al noted solemnly hating to end this reunion, in a sense, so soon. "Diane, it's time."

The Senator nodded to the Project Observer and drew in a breath. "Sam, I don't know if we'll ever see each other again, but no matter what happens, thank you. Thank you for saving me, my husband, and for all of the good you've done over the years."

"You're welcome," Sam responded, thankful for this opportunity to meet someone whose life had been saved by his efforts. In a way, this was the greatest gift that Al could ever have given him, and certainly not one that he would have ever expected considering how Quantum Leap was a top secret project.

Al released his hold on Diane's hand, and she disappeared from Sam's view. For Diane McBride, the image of the penthouse faded back into the plain blue walls of the Imaging Chamber. Apparently, the hologram still continued for Al, as she heard him say, "Good night, Sam."

No sooner had he said that, he turned and looked to the Senator and the biggest supporter of the Project. "So . . . what did you think?" he wondered, hoping she wasn't too overwhelmed by what she had just experienced.

Her brown eyes lit up, and it felt like adrenaline was flowing through her veins. The experience was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Sure, she had heard of virtual reality, which was starting to gain a bit of interest, but this went far beyond that with how realistic everything appeared to be. "That was amazing! I know it was a hologram, but it looked so real . . . like we were really there with him," she expressed with complete awe within the tone of her voice.

Al couldn't help but to grin. Although he had been doing this for years, helping Sam as a hologram, he still had fun with it occasionally . . . popping in to places to check it out, or even check out a beautiful woman who had no clue that she was being spied upon. Of course, there was always the times that he could scare Sam. As much as his friend hated it, the Observer certainly got a chuckle out of being able to do that whenever he could.

"Maybe I can tell you a few stories about how I've scared Sam a time or two as a hologram," he smiled, crooking his arm so Diane could slip hers around his, as they walked down the ramp together leading from the Imaging Chamber.

MONDAY, MAY 12, 1986

WEST LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

11:45PM PACIFIC TIME

Karl Schutz sat within his rental sedan, on the top floor of the parking structure at the corner of Pico Boulevard and Corinth Street. Although the garage wasn't too high up, the top levels would afford any pedestrian a decent view of the street below.

Not that there was much to see at this time of night. Traffic was extremely light to where it was practically non-existent. He could see a few stray cars passing by on the nearby 405 San Diego Freeway, and occasionally there could be a car heard on the street below.

Most sensible people were already at home, and likely sleeping if not just heading to bed. But, that's if they were sensible. From what he had heard, Tuesday was going to bring about some insanity to the city due to the playoff basketball game between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Houston Rockets, but that wasn't going to be until much later in the evening and, by that point, he would have already flown back to Germany.

But, before he could do that, he had to meet with the second person he intended to hire. It was a name that he had held in contingency due to the reports he had read on this individual . . . but he hadn't considered using him until Lieutenant Angel had revealed who Amy Allen may have sought the protection of. Upon learning that, it made this choice that much more perfect.

From what he recalled, this mercenary had an impressive track record. He was well known within military circles, but he had gained most of his fame and credibility by hiring himself out to those who wanted to dispatch with a so-called problem. He was willing to do anything, without any sense of scruples holding him back, and was even willing to put a bullet through the heart of some poor helpless soul that stood in his way, if necessary.

The profile on this guy was perfect, and exactly what he needed. This guy would be the perfect partner for Lieutenant Angel for this operation. Commissar Kruger would indeed be pleased with how everything would ultimately turn out. The reporter was as good as theirs again. He was certain of that.

He put the file of the individual he was about to hire on the dashboard of the car. Looking out the windshield, he noticed that the light pole that normally provided illumination for this level of the parking structure was burnt out. As a result, the whole area was cast in an eerie, foreboding darkness. They were too high above the 405 Freeway to get any ambient light from the cars that passed on the freeway nearby, so the only light came from the headlights on his own vehicle . . . headlights that pierced the darkness around him.

He wasn't sure why his contact asked him to meet him here, but seeing the lighting conditions, now he knew. He could easily operate within the shadows, and nobody would ever know until . . .

The sound of the passenger door of the car opening instantly snapped him out of his reverie. Instinctively, he pulled out a gun and aimed it at the person that was now getting in. The intruder was a clean-cut male, with dark hair that was obviously receding, and a chiseled face that showed the hardship of war.

"I would suggest you put that gun away, Mr. Schutz. Police often patrol this area, and it is illegal to carry a weapon, much less a concealed one without the proper permits, which I doubt that you have," the intruder quickly pointed out with a bit of a smirk. He had been confident, and never flinched once when the gun was pointed at him. "The name is Kyle . . . Major Douglas Kyle."

The German relaxed the grip on his gun and pulled it closer to himself, but did not put it away. Anyone who was this ballsy with an entrance was not to be trusted. "I would appreciate it if you announced your presence or asked permission before entering my vehicle," Schutz countered sharply, not at all pleased by the presumptuous of his visitor.

Kyle raised an eyebrow at what Schutz had said. The smirk that he had on his face fell, as he became serious . . . deadly serious. "You said that you wanted to hire me to curtail a certain threat, which is why I came here. If you don't want my help, I can always go. I have other clientele who would be more than willing to accept my unique methods."

"No," Schutz quickly countered, not wanting him to leave. The guy had guts, which only convinced him even further that he was perfect for this in spite of his arrogance and lack of respect. "Your unique training and skills, along with your past experience, makes you perfect for this assignment. I would not have contacted you if I did not intend to hire your services."

Kyle crossed his arms in front of him, not totally convinced. His dark eyes observed the blonde-haired German, trying to get a read on him. And if first impressions were right, this guy was a middle man for his boss . . . someone who handled things, so his boss' hands wouldn't appear to be dirty. It was logical, and made sense in a country like this so things wouldn't be traced back to their source. And no doubt, Karl Schutz was loyal. If he wasn't, chances are he wouldn't even be doing this.

"Fine," Douglas conceded. "What is this threat you want me to deal with?"

The German pulled out a packet from the sun visor above his head, and then handed it over to the mercenary. He watched as Kyle opened up the packet, and pulled out a photo of the subject, along with a folder with some information inside. "Her name is Amy Allen," Karl began to explain as she watched the major study the picture.

Kyle raised an eyebrow as he studied the picture. She looked to be young, likely in her late 20s or early 30s, with brown hair with a slight wave to it that ended at her shoulders. Her brown eyes seemed to have a sparkle that he thought he recognized in someone else . . . and, if it was that same look, then no doubt this was going to be more difficult than he originally expected. "She's cute. What's her story?" he wondered, hoping to get to the essence of the situation.

This time, it was Schutz's turn to smirk a bit. He wasn't too surprised with how the mercenary wanted to get to the point, and quickly. It just fit his profile perfectly. If Anderson and Kyle could figure out how to get along, then they'd have no problem with quickly nabbing the reporter and accomplishing their task. "She's a reporter for the Los Angeles Courier Express. She saw some sensitive documents and has proof of their existence on film. My employer wants her brought back to East Germany, where she will be questioned, and then eliminated . . . quietly, and without a trace."

Kyle flipped the information up on the dash as he scoffed. "Sounds like a cakewalk to me . . . something that any other floozy could easily do," he commented, firmly believing that this type of a situation was beneath him and his skill level. Far beneath. Not that he wasn't about to pass up the money, since quick jobs like this could pay for his ammo and expenses with future cases, but it just almost didn't seem worth the time and effort.

This time, it was Karl Schutz who had the advantage, especially considering the information he possessed . . . not just about the reporter, but also about the mercenary as well. He knew that there was no way Major Douglas Kyle was going to pass this up. "So, you're going to pass, even if it means being able to get revenge?" he questioned, the smirk still very evident on his face.

Doug studied the German for a moment. With the expression he had, it meant that there was more to all of this. Either that, or he was being baited . . . and he hated being baited. Drawing in a breath, he decided to ask, "What kind of revenge?"

Karl shifted in his seat in order to allow himself a more direct view of the mercenary. He still hadn't lowered his weapon, since he didn't trust Kyle at all . . . but, it was going to be interesting to see his reaction to what he was about to reveal. "We have come to learn that Ms. Allen was once associated with and might now be attempting to contact a group of individuals, whom I understand you have a personal vendetta against."

Kyle let out a bit of a laugh that seemed to be dripping with sarcasm. He couldn't believe the audacity of this guy. He was even more convinced that he was being baited with how this was drawing out, but the curiosity in terms of who could have been behind this was a bit too much for him to resist. They often said that curiosity killed the cat, but cats like him had nine lives . . . and he had only gone through one so far, according to his own count. "In case if you haven't noticed, there are several people out there that I would love to extract some revenge on. But, just who are these individuals?" Kyle wondered, hoping that the German would get to the point.

The expression on Schutz's face fell and his tone became deadly serious. "I believe you know them as . . . the A-Team," he revealed, coldly. No sooner had the words left his lips, his gaze transfixed on that of Kyle's, studying his face for his reaction.

One of Douglas Kyle's eyebrows rose, and a smug smile appeared on his face. He had always been looking for an opportunity for a re-match, or even a chance to get some revenge against Colonel Smith and his men. That had been the only black mark on his otherwise illustrious record as a mercenary for hire, and indeed Schutz was right . . . he definitely wanted revenge.

But in this case, it was practically being handed to him on a silver platter. Grabbing the file off the dash, he started to look through it again. From what he could see, just by glancing things over, it became apparent that the reporter didn't just have an interest in the A-Team and followed them like storm chasers follow tornados throughout the Midwest. There was more . . . a lot more, and it showed within her writing. It was almost as if maybe the A-Team had opened their doors and let her inside. Ultimately, she would be the weak link that would allow him to have his revenge.

"Allow me to assemble a team, and I guarantee that we will eliminate the A-Team," Kyle boasted, his tone of voice showing how much confidence he had that they would succeed this time around.

Karl shook his head, causing a strand of his well-groomed hair to fall almost in front of his eyes. He looked sternly again at Douglas Kyle and explained, "Time is something we have very little of, Major. There is a deadline of four days, in which the reporter must be on a plane back to our country. I doubt that you can assemble an effective unit within that short period of time."

Closing the folder, Douglas studied the photo once more, almost as if trying to memorize every curve . . . every feature . . . every inch of the reporter. After a moment, he glanced up at Schutz and challenged, "Try me."

Karl was quickly growing frustrated. It seemed, this time, that Kyle wanted to pull the strings and do things his way. Unfortunately, with time of the essence, that wasn't how it was going to work. His tone of voice became firmer, more confident, as he instructed, "I have already contacted Lt. Thomas Angel, who will be working with you. You will have the same deal he does. One third payment now, and the rest upon the reporter's delivery to the compound in East Germany."

Kyle watched as Schutz pulled out an envelope from his jacket and handed it over. Snatching it out of his hands, he opened it up and leafed through the wad of bills stuffed inside along with two phone numbers. One was local, so he had to assume that it belonged to Lt. Angel. The other had a country code that likely was for East Germany. As for the money, there had to be at least $50,000 there based on first glance. And if it was indeed only one third of the payment, then that was going to equate to a very nice sum of money just for kidnapping some reporter. The defeat of the A-Team would just be icing on the cake for him.

"Very well, Mr. Schutz. You have yourself a deal," Major Kyle informed him. Before Karl Schutz could say anything more, Kyle opened up the car door and quietly and quickly slipped out the same way he had entered it.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1999

WAITING ROOM

PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP

STALLIONS GATE, NEW MEXICO

4:30PM MOUNTAIN TIME

Templeton Peck rested on the examination table within the Waiting Room. He wasn't asleep, but in a way he wished that he was asleep and all of this was nothing more than a bad dream . . . or maybe a nightmare . . . and that he could just wake up and he'd be back where he belonged. All of this seemed like it was a page out of one of Murdock's fantasies, and he was stuck in the middle of it with no way to escape.

He was still very troubled by the fact that this was some kind of a top secret installation, run by a Naval Rear Admiral. What in the world was going on here that it had to be made top secret? Was there some kind of secret that they didn't want to get out? Were they a branch of the CIA? The NSA? The DNI? Or maybe some new agency he hadn't even heard about before? It could explain why a high ranking Naval officer was seemingly in charge of the complex . . . or did it?

There was something about all of this that he was overlooking. He was certain of it, but he couldn't put his thumb on it yet.

What made it worse was the fact that he was being held against his will. Sure, they kept trying to claim that he wasn't a prisoner or under arrest, but it sure in the heck felt like he was. If he wasn't a prisoner, why did they remove his clothes and put him in this awfully revealing outfit? It wasn't like he didn't keep himself fit or anything, but he didn't need his body betraying him and revealing what he really thought when interacting with a beautiful woman. And tight, one-piece white body suit would show everything, and then some.

And, why was his memory filled with more holes than a slab of swiss cheese? Some of the holes were filling in, but others seemed . . . no, more like felt like the military had done a bombing run inside his head. He had been drugged in the past, and knew what it felt like. He knew how, in the initial stages while it wore off, how sometimes one's mind could be filled with holes . . . but it was often a side effect from the drug. But here, he had been awake and alert for some time . . . far more alert and coherent than he should have been if he had been drugged, even from the first second after regaining consciousness . . . yet he had so many gaps in his memory, he couldn't even begin to count.

There was a puzzle here. If Hannibal had been with him, he would have said how certain he was of it due to all of the little pieces everywhere. But, nothing was fitting together to give him a big picture . . .

He sat up on the examination table as he heard the hiss of one of the doors opening. He wasn't sure who was walking in, but he wanted to be ready for them, just in case. He didn't know if it was going to be that shrink, Dr. Beeks, or even Admiral Calavicci. In a way, if it was one of them, he planned on asking some more questions and he wasn't about to settle for any more of that top secret garbage. He needed answers.

A beautiful female with 2-inch high heels and curly red hair walked into the Waiting Room. She wore a silver jacket, and a shimmering blue dress that ended at mid-thigh, showing off her shapely legs. She had a clipboard in one had that appeared to have some kind of a keypad attached to it. Her dark brown eyes glanced over to him for a moment before she made her way to a corner of the room where she needed to work.

Face's blue eyes studied every curve of the woman, from the moment she entered the Waiting Room, to when they made eye contact, and then when she walked over to a wall and squat down a bit before touching a spot on it. A hidden panel, perhaps? But, that movement was enough to send him over the edge.. Her outfit, which was already tight, accentuated her shapely rear end and left very little to the imagination. Her beauty captivated him, causing him to sigh happily as he remarked, "Now I know I must be in heaven."

She immediately turned to look at him, before standing up. Obviously, she had overheard the remark, and wasn't so much startled by what was said, versus the fact that the person in the Waiting Room spoke to her. Just like it was with Verbena Beeks, the Visitor looked like Dr. Samuel Beckett, her boss. From what she had recalled prior to when he started Leaping around in time, Dr. Beckett wasn't a womanizer at all, nor did he ever attempt to charm anyone of the opposite gender. The real Sam Beckett had eyes only for one woman . . . Donna Elesee.

"Excuse me?" she asked, just to make sure that she had heard that remark correctly. Her voice was light and somewhat nasally, but carried the intonations of a stereotypical California valley girl.

A small grin crept across Face's countenance as he realized that he had just taken the bait. Now, like a seasoned fisherman that he was . . . a fisher of women . . . it was time to lure her in. He immediately turned on the charm and flashed her a huge smile as he commented, "I was just wondering what a beautiful woman like you is doing in a place like this."

She tried hard not to blush, although the comment made her think of how Dr. Beckett acted after his simo-Leap with Al. A bit of Al's lecherous side remained with Dr. Beckett, so he flirted with her a bit just as Al did. But Al . . . her Al . . . was normal and had been for some time now, so the chances of any residual effects remaining in whoever occupied the aura of Dr. Beckett was negligible.

At least that was what she was told, until her encounter with this individual . . .

She readjusted her hold on the clipboard, holding it in front of her as she glanced at the information. Right now, that was the only thing . . . figuratively speaking . . . separating the two of them besides physical distance and the clothing they wore. Using her free hand, she flipped some of her longer hair off her shoulder as she responded, "I work here." The tone of her voice made it clear that she wasn't trying to be interested in him.

"What a shame . . ." Face sighed. He was obviously disappointed, but he wasn't about to give up so easily. He knew the way into a woman's heart, and since she was a total knock out, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by, no matter where he was. Besides, a little companionship when one was all alone never really hurt. Again he flashed her a charming smile as he inquired, "Soooo . . . by what name do I call this vision of loveliness standing in front of me?"

This time, she couldn't hide the reaction as her face flushed at the newest comment he levied upon her. She never had someone pay her such compliments before. Sure, Al was very sweet to her, but this seemed to go far above and beyond. It made it difficult for her to know how exactly to deal with it . . . especially from someone who looked exactly like her boss. There was a slight bit of hesitation in her voice as she gently revealed, "Dr. Tina Martinez-O'Farrell."
"Ah, Tina . . . such a lovely name," he stated almost as if drinking in the sound of her entire name like it was an expensive perfume. Adding a high level of appreciation into the tone of his voice, he continued, "And a doctor as well! What man wouldn't love to be given a physical by someone as gorgeous as you . . ."

There was something about this guy that kind of made her glad that she was over on this side of the room, and he hadn't gotten up from the examination table. He was a little bit too slick with how heavily he was laying on the compliments, and that smile . . . if she had been able to see his real face, she may have thought otherwise . . . but seeing it coming from her boss, that smile made her think of her pet crocodile. Still, he was trying to come across as being a nice guy, so what harm could there be in that?

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm a pulse communication technician," she corrected him, somewhat apologetically. There was a slight look of confusion on his face, which meant that she had finally thrown him off guard. Maybe his IQ wasn't that high, and he was trying to use his charm to compensate. "That's a fancy term for being a computer scientist."

"Ah, a pulse communications technician. Sounds absolutely . . . pulsating," Templeton noted, trying to play off the title of her position a bit with his response. The revelation of her job stunned him, throwing him off kilter a bit, since most women that he knew were medical doctors. He had never met a female doctor before who didn't hold a medical degree. But, based on how she responded, he was close to winning her over. He wasn't about to give up now. "How about dinner, then? This place isn't as fancy as Spaggio, but we could still . . . make it romantic. A little candlelight, some soft music, dim the lights a bit, champagne on ice, and a masterful four course meal as we get to know each other a bit better."

Tina was thoroughly impressed by the Leapee's tenacity and determination. Not too many people would keep at it, even though her answers clearly weren't what he had may have originally expected. "I've already got dinner plans tonight with Al," she pointed out, but stopped short at revealing that she was seeing Al and intimate with him. She couldn't with how sweet this guy was trying to be . . . trying being the operative word. He at least deserved a chance.

Face wasn't sure who this Al was and he hoped that whoever it turned out to be wasn't a boyfriend, much less a jealous one. He likely should have asked about the hyphenated last name as well, but he was sure determined to wine and dine this beautiful redhead if he could get a chance. It was time to take it to the next level. "Well, since it looks like I'm going to be stuck here for a while, how about tomorrow night? It does get kind of lonely in here," he mentioned, hoping that the old 'wounded raccoon' play would tug at her heartstrings.

She paused for a moment, bringing her other hand around to clutch her clipboard tightly against her with both of her hands. She thought about his offer, and honestly she did feel sorry for him based on what he just mentioned. She had never visited one of the Leapees before in the Waiting Room, but if they were in here for hours on end, it likely could get pretty lonely. Relenting, she told him, "Okay, tomorrow will be fine."

The smile on his face returned brightly as he realized he had just struck gold. "Wonderful! Now, I just have to figure out how to arrange it . . ." he trailed off, the smile on his face quickly falling as he hadn't thought of that before even asking her for a dinner date. He was just so entranced by her beauty that he did what just came naturally for him.

This time, it was Tina's turn to smile. In a way, he kind of reminded her of Al with how sometimes he went into things head first without thinking things through. Of course, it made their love life quite interesting so she had no complaints about that at all. "Since you're a little . . . tied up . . . I could take care of that," she offered.

His face remained stoic, showing a great deal of concern as he countered, "Are you sure? I mean, I don't exactly have connections here, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone . . ." He almost felt like he could just about kick himself right now with not thinking things through like he normally would have, but if he hadn't had the holes in his memory he likely would have done that long before even thinking about asking her. There was the shrink that he could ask, but he doubted that she'd even agree to something like what he and Tina were going to do.

"I'm sure," Tina responded, still smiling. She didn't expect him to be all worried about something as trivial as a dinner date, so that really spoke volumes of the type of guy he was. Maybe, when she was done here, she'd see if Ziggy could help her find a picture of what he looked like . . . well, before he Leaped. It would be interesting to get some idea of who resided underneath the aura. But, in order to get some idea of what he looked like, she'd need to get his name . . . something that he hadn't revealed just yet.

Their eyes locked for a moment, even though neither one had closed the distance between them. As she searched his eyes, almost as if trying to look into his very soul, the Pulse Communications Technician realized that this was the perfect time to get the information she needed. "Um . . . you know, I don't even know your name," she admitted.

He smiled at her again . . . this time a gentle, genuine smile, and not one filled with charm. "It's Templeton Peck . . . although my friends call me Face," he responded gently, hoping that this was going to be the start of something very special between the two of them.

Tina gave him another smile, and decided that it was best to get back to work before anything else could happen. With how he charmed her into having dinner with him tomorrow, she didn't want to wait around and see what else he'd be able to talk her into doing. Tomorrow night, she'd be better prepared and on her guard, but for now, it was best that she got out of Dodge while she could. "I hate to do this, but I need to go," she said somewhat sadly. "I have to get back to work."

Getting up off the table, Face walked over to Tina. He took one of her hands within his, and then gently placed a kiss upon her knuckles. "Until tomorrow night then . . . lovely Tina," he said gently.

After he kissed her hand, she pulled it away from his hands . . . but only after lingering for just a moment. She didn't expect that, and it was a very sweet gesture. It reminded her of the first time that Al had met her, and offered to treat her to dinner . . . and ultimately what led them to fall in love with each other. Pressing a button on keypad attached to the clipboard, the door to the Waiting Room opened. She exited out of it, leaving Templeton Peck inside with his thoughts . . .

OBSERVATION AREA

PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP

Donna Elesee stood at the one-way window that allowed her to watch the Visitor in the Waiting Room, quietly observing the man inside who bore the image of her husband, Samuel Beckett. It was always so surreal to be here, watching the Visitor, and hear the different dialects, vocal inflections and even mannerisms that were so different from that of Sam.

Yet, even when standing there, she felt like she was somehow helping . . . connecting to her husband, who was somewhere in the past, and saving the lives of others. That was the one thing that she had admired about Sam. Throughout all of these, the ups and downs associated with Leaping around in time, and the lives of those that he entered into for a while, he had shown incredible strength to continue and not give up. He believed in the essence of the human spirit, and that nothing was impossible to overcome, no matter how dismal things may look at some point.

It was, in a word, inspiring.

She reached up with a hand and unconsciously brushed one of her loose strands of hair behind her ear as she continued to gaze through the window. She had been very tempted, once she had read the info Al had gathered, to go in and talk to the Leapee. She found it fascinating that Sam had Leaped into someone that Al knew, and had to work to save other men that Al was also familiar with. As she had quickly learned around here, fate could be a funny thing . . .

Samantha Josephine Fuller walked up to stand next to Dr. Elesee, also taking a few moments to watch the Visitor. Ever since Donna found out about Sami Jo, and the fact that she was Sam's daughter, she reached out to the young woman and welcomed her as part of the family in a way that she knew that Sam would have wanted. Neither one had known about her true parentage at first when Sami Jo had started working at the Project, but once the truth came out a bond was forged between the two of them . . . but not until after Sami Jo gone through a rough patch.

Sami Jo herself was very much like Sam, and reminded Donna of her husband regularly. She had an extremely bright mind and an inquisitive nature that prompted her to explore . . . even if it was in Ziggy's programming. She had a hard past, especially after seeing some of the events that took place around the witch hunt for her mother, but she had recalled a critical memory that proved her innocence and saved her life.

And in so doing, she also saved her own in the process . . . but not without help from her father, as she came to learn later in life after joining Project Quantum Leap.

When she had learned the truth, it had practically turned her whole world upside down. She had gone through all of the classic emotions associated with such a revelation . . . confusion, shock, denial, anger, remorse. Remorse was an emotion that she hadn't expected she'd endure, but in a way she had a right to be remorseful, simply because of the fact that the truth had been kept from her for so long and by the time she found out, her biological father was already Leaping around in time, so she never really had a chance to meet him . . . the real him . . . and get to know him like she wanted.

Al and Donna . . . they were both incredibly supportive throughout all of the stages of emotions she experienced with learning the truth, far more than they should have been. Al clearly felt guilty about not telling Donna and Sami Jo about it, but ultimately one emotion came shining through. One she hadn't expected at all, even after the truth came out.

Love . . .

If anything, Donna had a right to be angry with Sam . . . and even direct that anger at Sami Jo . . . due to the fact that his actions resulted in a child being conceived with another woman while he was still married to Dr. Elesee. Yet, she was extremely understanding and showed Sami Jo nothing but kindness and love, welcoming her as part of the family almost as if she had been part of it all along.

Sami Jo was grateful for that, because it helped to see her through, even though she didn't accept it at first. It helped her to see that, no matter what, she had a family who loved and deeply cared about her . . . that would stand by her side, help her and support her, no matter what she was going through. And that was something that she would never want to trade for anything else in the whole world.

She joined Donna in looking through the observation glass at the Visitor in the Waiting Room . . . the person who, for all practical purposes, looked like Dr. Samuel Beckett. They both just stood there in silence, observing the man who had just been laying there until Tina walked in to do a bit of work. As they overheard the remark that came from the Leapee toward the Pulse Communication Technician, Sami Jo decided to break the silence between the two of them by asking, "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Donna mused quietly as she continued to look through the glass. The person inside looked like her husband, but certainly acted nothing like him . . . at least not with what she had seen so far. "It's always fascinating to observe the Visitor and see just how different they are from Sam."

"Or how much they are the same," Sami Jo countered, noting a few movements that reminded her of her father . . . or at least what she remembered of him when he had Leaped into Larry Stanton III. During the time that the lawyer had been assigned to help her mother, she recalled the conversations she had with him, and how kind and gentle he was. She even remembered talking about the novel Brigadoon, which dealt with time travel, which turned out to be not only her favorite, but Sam's as well. "Do you know much about who Sam Leaped into?"

Donna still found it slightly odd that, even though Sami Jo learned the truth that Sam Beckett was her father, she still referred to him by his name and not as 'father.' Then again too, she grew up with not knowing the truth and believing that a police officer, Will Kinman, who had been in love with her mother Abigail and ran off shortly after she had become pregnant, had been her father. But, since she hadn't actually met Sam in person, at least the way that would have allowed her to have gotten to know Dr. Beckett, it was likely that she didn't feel comfortable referring to him in such a familiar term. If he ever returned home, maybe things could change . . . but until that time, she would respect Sami Jo's decision.

"I read the report from Al and Verbena. It seems that Sam has Leaped into 1st Lieutenant Templeton Peck, a con man who is a member of a military unit that was on the run for a crime they committed in Vietnam. They do a lot of work to help out others in need," Donna started to mention, pausing for a moment. The next bit of information was pretty stunning when she found out, but it still needed to be shared. "It also seems that Al knows our Visitor."

Sami Jo was stunned by this news, and turned to look at Donna. There were some Leaps, as she had come to learn, which ultimately had an impact on various members of the Project, or even on the Project itself. The one that involved Senator Diane McBride was just one example of that, with how the Leap that impacted her life ultimately helped to save the funding for the Project. Of course, there were many more that didn't affect the project, but for the ones that did, it was always fascinating to learn of the ones that did and how it changed things.

"Al knows him?" Sami Jo parroted, turning the statement into a question. This development was still something that drove her curiosity since there was so much that could happen. "How does Al know him?"

Donna looked to Sami Jo and nodded an affirmative. Even she had been a bit surprised by the news that Admiral Calavicci knew the person in the Waiting Room. "Apparently, they were held at the same POW camp at Cham Hoi in Vietnam," she revealed.

Dr. Beckett's daughter was clearly stunned by this news. She knew that Al Calavicci had been in Vietnam, and had even been a POW, but to have been held at the same POW camp where the Visitor was . . . it had to have been more than just a coincidence. Did this Leap perhaps have something to do with Al, even indirectly? Only time would tell, but there was potential implication from all of this that she even shuddered to think about, yet needed to be asked, "Has our Visitor recognized Al yet?"

Donna shook her head, her loose strands of dark hair flowing around her shoulders gracefully. "Not yet, but as the holes in his memory fills, it's only a matter of time before he does. Bena's been working with him, so hopefully it won't be as much of a shock in case he does finally recognize Al," she explained.

What was left unspoken between the two women, and was a major concern, was what were to happen once the Leapee returned to his own time. How much would he remember of the people here in the future? How much would he remember of the Project, or his stay? How much would he remember of what was said to him? Would he remember everything, or just a little? And if he remembered everything, would he reveal that information to his friends, much less anyone else that would listen?

Silence filled the air for a moment as they each contemplated what could possibly happen if the Visitor remembered what happened to him here once he returned to his own time, as well as how it could impact the Project as well. If word got out, even before the Project was created, it could jeopardize all of the hard work . . . not to mention all of the history over the years that Sam had managed to fix, and the lives that he saved. But, then again, who would believe such tales coming from a fugitive on the run?

The silence was broken when Sami Jo decided to ask, out of curiosity, "Have you gone in there to talk to him yet?"

Donna didn't move, but returned her gaze to what was playing out in the Waiting Room as they heard the Visitor try to hit on Tina by offering a romantic dinner. She had to try hard not to giggle at that, not sure how he was going to manage to pull off such a feat considering his current confinement . . . unless he had a way of sweet talking others into getting him what he needed to make such a dinner possible. Considering what was in the file, she wouldn't put anything past him at this point.

Turning back to Sami Jo, Dr. Elesee noted, "Not yet, but as you can see, he seems to be a bit of a lady's man. Since regaining consciousness, he's hit on two nurses, and three different staff members, not including Tina."

Dr. Fuller stifled a laugh as she also returned her gaze to the Leapee. "Well, it looks like Tina may be entertaining whatever idea he's proposing," she observed. She thought about things for a moment before adding, "I hope Al doesn't get upset when he finds out. You know how much he loves Tina."

Donna immediately thought of Al's special surprise for Tina at one of her birthday parties, where he actually popped out of a huge cake wearing nothing but boxer shorts. That was one wild party, if she remembered right, although it also happened to take place during one of Sam's many Leaps. "Yeah, and he sure goes out of his way to show it too. But, if I know Tina, she'll keep it purely professional with our Visitor. He does look like Sam, and I don't think she'd try to make the moves on someone that looks like her boss. Besides, she's only got eyes for Al . . ."

"Don't forget about Gooshie," Sami Jo interjected, pointing out an obvious fact. There were a couple of occasions where Tina was cheating on Al with the head programmer for the whole Project. Al knew about one time, but there was a second that he didn't know about. Thankfully he had kept his temper in check and didn't take it out on Gooshie . . . and when Tina got back together with Al, things were right as rain again.

As Dr. Donna Elesee thought about it, the more she began to realize that Tina may be in over her head when it came to a dinner date with the Visitor . . .