Written & posted to ATS Creative: April 1998
Hello to all. Here's a quiet little crossover between "SLIDERS" and the much-loved by me "NOTHING SACRED". I hope y'all enjoy it. :-)
CONTINUITY: Season #3
SPOILERS: Uh...if you know about Wade, none.
DISCLAIMER: I did not create any of these characters. Quinn, Rembrandt, and Maggie belong to St Clare Entertainment, the Sci-Fi Channel, I guess, and probably Seagram's Golden Wine Coolers. Hey, do they still make those? Remember those Bruce Willis commercials? But I digress...back to the disclaimer. Ray belongs to David Manson and Paul Leland, who created him.
BTW, I can't apologize for the title, as I enjoy the occasional groan-inducing pun. ;-)
Thanks to all,
AnnieM
******
A Ray of Hope (01/01) by AnnieM
Quinn was tired. He had spent the better part of that Saturday combing the city searching for any sign of Wade. A quick glance at his watch told him it was almost 4:15 PM. ::"Not much more ground I can cover before I hook up with the others at 5...":: he thought absently, running a hand through his hair.
This particular slide was a relatively short one, just a little over ten hours. They had landed in an alley behind a church in what appeared to be a slightly run-down section of LA. After taking a cautious look around and finding no signs that this world was under Kromagg rule, he, Rembrandt, and Maggie had decided since their time in this dimension was so limited, they could accomplish more if they split up.
That was eight hours ago. Quinn took a deep breath, exhaling it as he looked around. He realized he'd wandered back in the same direction, and was only about a block from the church where he was to meet up with Maggie and Rembrandt. He stood there for a moment, plotting his next move.
He wasn't really hungry; he'd bought a hot dog and one of those huge cheese-covered pretzels that the Professor used to enjoy so much from a vendor only a couple of hours ago. What he *was*, Quinn realized, was thirsty. He'd noticed a bar across the street from where he stood.
"I could *use* a beer right about now..." he muttered softly to himself, and made his way across the street.
***************
::"Well, it's not the Lamplighter, but so long as the beer's cold, I don't care.":: Quinn thought to himself as he pulled out a barstool and sat down. He dug into his pocket and fished out a crumpled bill, which he smoothed out against the edge of the bar. The bartender, acknowledging his latest arrival, was already ambling toward Quinn.
"What can I getcha?"
"Draft, please."
"I got Bud or Bud Light."
"Either's fine."
The bartender gave a little shrug as he held a glass under the spigot, pulling back on the tap. Setting the overflowing mug in front of Quinn, they gave each other a nod as the man scooped up the dollar and went off to tend to his other patrons.
Quinn took a sip and stared blankly at the rows of bottles in front of him. As was common for so many bars and taverns, the section of wall behind them was mirrored glass. Quinn caught sight of his own reflection as he raised the glass to his lips for another draught; he stopped short, setting the mug back down.
What he saw in his mirror image nearly frightened him...deeply etched lines he'd no doubt developed since Wade's abduction by the Kromaggs. His eyes were reddened from too many nights of non-restful sleep, and there was a pallor to his complexion he hadn't noticed before. With his elbows resting on the bar, he steepled his hands and buried his face in them, shaking his head. However haggard Quinn looked, it was infinitesimal compared to the pain he felt inside over the loss of Wade.
So lost in thought was Quinn, he never noticed that a fellow nursing a beer at a nearby table had witnessed his brief, angst-ridden display. The man wore a look of concern as he got up from his chair, and walked over to where Quinn was sitting. Placing his glass on the bar next to him, he touched Quinn lightly on the arm.
"You okay, man?"
Quinn was startled out of his reverie. "Huh?! What?"
"I said, are you okay? You looked kind of out-of-it for a minute."
Quinn's senses back, he focused on the man who had spoken to him. In his estimation, he looked not much older than Quinn himself...maybe ten years, if that. He had an athletic build, partly evidenced by the 'Property of St Thomas Athletic Dept.' tee shirt he was wearing. He had an unruly mane of wavy brown hair which framed a friendly face with kind, blue eyes. There was something about the man's countenance that put Quinn right at ease.
"I...I'm fine...thanks." Quinn tried to smile to reinforce the fact, but wasn't too successful. The inner turmoil was all too evident in his twisted approximation of a grin.
"You look like you could use somebody to talk to."
Quinn exhaled a deep breath. "It's that obvious, huh?"
The man nodded as he pulled up a stool next to Quinn's. "Yep."
Quinn regarded his new drinking buddy. "What are you, like a therapist or something?" He asked, with genuine curiosity.
The fellow took a draught from his beer. "Sometimes. You could say that."
::"What the hell...why not?":: thought Quinn, sipping at his beer. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Someone...someone I love very much was taken from me recently, and I don't know if I'll ever get her back. It's my fault that she's gone. My friends and I have tried everything, but nothing...we're getting absolutely nowhere, and I'm about at the end of my rope."
The stranger's blue eyes stared at him intently. "Was what you did so terrible that you think she'd never forgive you?"
"To me, yes. *I'd* never forgive me. I *don't* forgive me. But, Wade...she would. She'd understand, stick by me no matter what." Quinn pictured her gamine face before him. The image made him smile.
The fellow gave Quinn a 'there you go'-gesture. "Then how can you not forgive yourself if the one you feel you so terribly wronged *would*? Look...we're human beings, and we all make mistakes. God may have created us in His own image, but He really should've issued us owner's manuals."
Quinn chucked at the remark, but his expression sobered. "I...don't really think about God much. I'm not sure if I even believe in Him anymore."
The stranger clapped Quinn on the shoulder with one hand, and downed the remainder of his beer with the other. "Well, He believes in *you*. I know it's hard to remember that sometimes, but He does. Oh...I'm Ray, by the way," he said, sticking out his hand.
Quinn smiled as he shook Ray's proffered hand. "Quinn. And thanks, man...I do feel sorta better. And I'll remember what you said."
Now it was Ray's turn to smile, which turned into a slightly panicked expression as he glanced toward the clock behind the bar. It was 4:45.
"Quinn...I'm really sorry about this, but I have to leave; I just saw the time, and if I don't go now I'll be late for work...I'll be free in couple of hours, if you'd like to talk some more."
Quinn shook his head, finishing off the last of *his* beer. "No...that's okay. *I'll* be okay...I'm meeting my friends shortly. But, thank you. It was nice talking with you, Ray; thanks."
"Glad to be of help." Ray nodded, and with a slight salute to Quinn, hurried out the door, mumbling something to himself about somebody named Martin, the bishop, and someone's head on a silver platter. At least that's what Quinn thought it sounded like. He shook off the weird imagery and moved to the back to use the mens' room before meeting up with the others.
***************
By 5:05 the three sliders had regrouped in front of the church. By 5:07, they had determined that they were in exactly the same position as this morning...on yet another strange world, with no sign of Wade to be found.
Maggie checked her watch. "Well, we've got a little more than an hour until we slide..what do you guys wanna do? I ate just a little while ago, but are either of you hungry?" Quinn and Rembrandt shook their heads 'no' in unison.
"Uh, guys...there *is* something I'd like to do..." Quinn began hesitantly.
"What's that, Q-Ball?"
"You guys may not believe this...especially *you*, Remmy...but I'd really like to go to church."
Maggie looked confused. "Huh?"
Quinn gestured to the sign. "There's a service here at 5:15...it'll be over in just enough time to make the slide. I can't explain it...maybe it's Wade...I don't know..."
Rembrandt put a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Quinn...there's no reason to feel ashamed of turning to God for comfort when you haven't in a long time. You may forget about God for awhile, but He won't forget about *you*. And I think that Wade would be very proud of you if she knew."
Quinn kicked at a pebble near his toes. He was grinning at the way Rembrandt's words were unknowlingly similar to those that Ray had spoken to him a short time earlier. He looked to the heavens, thinking, ::"Maybe it's a sign.":: Then he looked at his two friends. "Well?"
Maggie shrugged. "I've got no objections...lead on."
And Rembrandt had already begun to climb the church steps. So, Quinn followed.
***************
The sliders chose a pew near the rear of the church; if the services ran longer than expected, they wanted to be able to slip out as nondisruptively as possible.
As the introductory hymn began, Rembrandt sang along, following the lyrics in the missalette. Maggie glanced in wonderment at the beauty of the stained glass and statuary therein. And Quinn stood, his head bowed in silent prayer...
::"God...I know I've screwed up in my life...a *lot*...but even so, my friends have forgiven me. I'm sorry that it's been so long since I talked to you about anything...and here I am, about to ask you for a favor, but this is very important. It's not even for me, so much as for my friend, Wade."::
::"She's being held prisoner, God...and she's all alone. I know she's scared...she could be hurt, or blind...she might not even be alive anymore...but I don't think she's dead. I have this, I don't know, a *feeling* that Wade is alive out there, *somewhere*...and she's waiting for me to find her. God...you have to help me find her...*please*...she's everything to me..."::
::"I wish I could have some sort of sign,":: Quinn mused; ::"I know we're not supposed to ask for them, but I still wish I did."::
Quinn's pensive mood was broken by Maggie's voice..."They have some *cute* priests on this world," she'd whispered quietly to no one in particular.
Looking toward the front of the church, Quinn saw the celebrants enter from the adjoining sacristy. And there, stepping up to the lectern, in vestments of olive and gold, was...Ray.
Quinn blinked. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The priest officiating the service most definitely was the same man he'd shared a brew with barely an hour ago.
Quinn turned his gaze toward the ceiling; his thoughts, however, transcended that ceiling, headed for the sun, the stars, and the heavens above.
And Quinn smiled.
--fin--
Thanks for reading! :-)
Hello to all. Here's a quiet little crossover between "SLIDERS" and the much-loved by me "NOTHING SACRED". I hope y'all enjoy it. :-)
CONTINUITY: Season #3
SPOILERS: Uh...if you know about Wade, none.
DISCLAIMER: I did not create any of these characters. Quinn, Rembrandt, and Maggie belong to St Clare Entertainment, the Sci-Fi Channel, I guess, and probably Seagram's Golden Wine Coolers. Hey, do they still make those? Remember those Bruce Willis commercials? But I digress...back to the disclaimer. Ray belongs to David Manson and Paul Leland, who created him.
BTW, I can't apologize for the title, as I enjoy the occasional groan-inducing pun. ;-)
Thanks to all,
AnnieM
******
A Ray of Hope (01/01) by AnnieM
Quinn was tired. He had spent the better part of that Saturday combing the city searching for any sign of Wade. A quick glance at his watch told him it was almost 4:15 PM. ::"Not much more ground I can cover before I hook up with the others at 5...":: he thought absently, running a hand through his hair.
This particular slide was a relatively short one, just a little over ten hours. They had landed in an alley behind a church in what appeared to be a slightly run-down section of LA. After taking a cautious look around and finding no signs that this world was under Kromagg rule, he, Rembrandt, and Maggie had decided since their time in this dimension was so limited, they could accomplish more if they split up.
That was eight hours ago. Quinn took a deep breath, exhaling it as he looked around. He realized he'd wandered back in the same direction, and was only about a block from the church where he was to meet up with Maggie and Rembrandt. He stood there for a moment, plotting his next move.
He wasn't really hungry; he'd bought a hot dog and one of those huge cheese-covered pretzels that the Professor used to enjoy so much from a vendor only a couple of hours ago. What he *was*, Quinn realized, was thirsty. He'd noticed a bar across the street from where he stood.
"I could *use* a beer right about now..." he muttered softly to himself, and made his way across the street.
***************
::"Well, it's not the Lamplighter, but so long as the beer's cold, I don't care.":: Quinn thought to himself as he pulled out a barstool and sat down. He dug into his pocket and fished out a crumpled bill, which he smoothed out against the edge of the bar. The bartender, acknowledging his latest arrival, was already ambling toward Quinn.
"What can I getcha?"
"Draft, please."
"I got Bud or Bud Light."
"Either's fine."
The bartender gave a little shrug as he held a glass under the spigot, pulling back on the tap. Setting the overflowing mug in front of Quinn, they gave each other a nod as the man scooped up the dollar and went off to tend to his other patrons.
Quinn took a sip and stared blankly at the rows of bottles in front of him. As was common for so many bars and taverns, the section of wall behind them was mirrored glass. Quinn caught sight of his own reflection as he raised the glass to his lips for another draught; he stopped short, setting the mug back down.
What he saw in his mirror image nearly frightened him...deeply etched lines he'd no doubt developed since Wade's abduction by the Kromaggs. His eyes were reddened from too many nights of non-restful sleep, and there was a pallor to his complexion he hadn't noticed before. With his elbows resting on the bar, he steepled his hands and buried his face in them, shaking his head. However haggard Quinn looked, it was infinitesimal compared to the pain he felt inside over the loss of Wade.
So lost in thought was Quinn, he never noticed that a fellow nursing a beer at a nearby table had witnessed his brief, angst-ridden display. The man wore a look of concern as he got up from his chair, and walked over to where Quinn was sitting. Placing his glass on the bar next to him, he touched Quinn lightly on the arm.
"You okay, man?"
Quinn was startled out of his reverie. "Huh?! What?"
"I said, are you okay? You looked kind of out-of-it for a minute."
Quinn's senses back, he focused on the man who had spoken to him. In his estimation, he looked not much older than Quinn himself...maybe ten years, if that. He had an athletic build, partly evidenced by the 'Property of St Thomas Athletic Dept.' tee shirt he was wearing. He had an unruly mane of wavy brown hair which framed a friendly face with kind, blue eyes. There was something about the man's countenance that put Quinn right at ease.
"I...I'm fine...thanks." Quinn tried to smile to reinforce the fact, but wasn't too successful. The inner turmoil was all too evident in his twisted approximation of a grin.
"You look like you could use somebody to talk to."
Quinn exhaled a deep breath. "It's that obvious, huh?"
The man nodded as he pulled up a stool next to Quinn's. "Yep."
Quinn regarded his new drinking buddy. "What are you, like a therapist or something?" He asked, with genuine curiosity.
The fellow took a draught from his beer. "Sometimes. You could say that."
::"What the hell...why not?":: thought Quinn, sipping at his beer. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Someone...someone I love very much was taken from me recently, and I don't know if I'll ever get her back. It's my fault that she's gone. My friends and I have tried everything, but nothing...we're getting absolutely nowhere, and I'm about at the end of my rope."
The stranger's blue eyes stared at him intently. "Was what you did so terrible that you think she'd never forgive you?"
"To me, yes. *I'd* never forgive me. I *don't* forgive me. But, Wade...she would. She'd understand, stick by me no matter what." Quinn pictured her gamine face before him. The image made him smile.
The fellow gave Quinn a 'there you go'-gesture. "Then how can you not forgive yourself if the one you feel you so terribly wronged *would*? Look...we're human beings, and we all make mistakes. God may have created us in His own image, but He really should've issued us owner's manuals."
Quinn chucked at the remark, but his expression sobered. "I...don't really think about God much. I'm not sure if I even believe in Him anymore."
The stranger clapped Quinn on the shoulder with one hand, and downed the remainder of his beer with the other. "Well, He believes in *you*. I know it's hard to remember that sometimes, but He does. Oh...I'm Ray, by the way," he said, sticking out his hand.
Quinn smiled as he shook Ray's proffered hand. "Quinn. And thanks, man...I do feel sorta better. And I'll remember what you said."
Now it was Ray's turn to smile, which turned into a slightly panicked expression as he glanced toward the clock behind the bar. It was 4:45.
"Quinn...I'm really sorry about this, but I have to leave; I just saw the time, and if I don't go now I'll be late for work...I'll be free in couple of hours, if you'd like to talk some more."
Quinn shook his head, finishing off the last of *his* beer. "No...that's okay. *I'll* be okay...I'm meeting my friends shortly. But, thank you. It was nice talking with you, Ray; thanks."
"Glad to be of help." Ray nodded, and with a slight salute to Quinn, hurried out the door, mumbling something to himself about somebody named Martin, the bishop, and someone's head on a silver platter. At least that's what Quinn thought it sounded like. He shook off the weird imagery and moved to the back to use the mens' room before meeting up with the others.
***************
By 5:05 the three sliders had regrouped in front of the church. By 5:07, they had determined that they were in exactly the same position as this morning...on yet another strange world, with no sign of Wade to be found.
Maggie checked her watch. "Well, we've got a little more than an hour until we slide..what do you guys wanna do? I ate just a little while ago, but are either of you hungry?" Quinn and Rembrandt shook their heads 'no' in unison.
"Uh, guys...there *is* something I'd like to do..." Quinn began hesitantly.
"What's that, Q-Ball?"
"You guys may not believe this...especially *you*, Remmy...but I'd really like to go to church."
Maggie looked confused. "Huh?"
Quinn gestured to the sign. "There's a service here at 5:15...it'll be over in just enough time to make the slide. I can't explain it...maybe it's Wade...I don't know..."
Rembrandt put a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Quinn...there's no reason to feel ashamed of turning to God for comfort when you haven't in a long time. You may forget about God for awhile, but He won't forget about *you*. And I think that Wade would be very proud of you if she knew."
Quinn kicked at a pebble near his toes. He was grinning at the way Rembrandt's words were unknowlingly similar to those that Ray had spoken to him a short time earlier. He looked to the heavens, thinking, ::"Maybe it's a sign.":: Then he looked at his two friends. "Well?"
Maggie shrugged. "I've got no objections...lead on."
And Rembrandt had already begun to climb the church steps. So, Quinn followed.
***************
The sliders chose a pew near the rear of the church; if the services ran longer than expected, they wanted to be able to slip out as nondisruptively as possible.
As the introductory hymn began, Rembrandt sang along, following the lyrics in the missalette. Maggie glanced in wonderment at the beauty of the stained glass and statuary therein. And Quinn stood, his head bowed in silent prayer...
::"God...I know I've screwed up in my life...a *lot*...but even so, my friends have forgiven me. I'm sorry that it's been so long since I talked to you about anything...and here I am, about to ask you for a favor, but this is very important. It's not even for me, so much as for my friend, Wade."::
::"She's being held prisoner, God...and she's all alone. I know she's scared...she could be hurt, or blind...she might not even be alive anymore...but I don't think she's dead. I have this, I don't know, a *feeling* that Wade is alive out there, *somewhere*...and she's waiting for me to find her. God...you have to help me find her...*please*...she's everything to me..."::
::"I wish I could have some sort of sign,":: Quinn mused; ::"I know we're not supposed to ask for them, but I still wish I did."::
Quinn's pensive mood was broken by Maggie's voice..."They have some *cute* priests on this world," she'd whispered quietly to no one in particular.
Looking toward the front of the church, Quinn saw the celebrants enter from the adjoining sacristy. And there, stepping up to the lectern, in vestments of olive and gold, was...Ray.
Quinn blinked. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The priest officiating the service most definitely was the same man he'd shared a brew with barely an hour ago.
Quinn turned his gaze toward the ceiling; his thoughts, however, transcended that ceiling, headed for the sun, the stars, and the heavens above.
And Quinn smiled.
--fin--
Thanks for reading! :-)