Epilogue
May 18, 2000
Las Vegas, Nevada
2000 hours
Frank Parker was enjoying a well-deserved break before returning to Never Neverland. Within the past 48 hours he had reversed time another week and once again saved the world from annihilation.
He emerged from a cheaply rented motel room showered and shaved with clean clothes on his back. He had a few hours to kill as Talmadge had arranged for him to be met by Salt and Pepper at the airport at 2200.
A multitude of choices presented themselves to Frank as he wandered the infamous "Strip". He wasn't quite sure what type of entertainment he was looking for. About an hour later he found himself at a Jamaican Reggie bar with a bottle of Red Stripe in his hand. The music was pleasant and crowd watching was an interesting way to pass the time.
Out on the dance floor two women were dancing. One was a blond, about 30 years old, 5-foot-5 and wearing designer maternity clothes. The other was the same age but taller and with long chestnut brown hair. From the bar, Frank watched the brunette lead the prego off the floor after the song had ended. They made their way to a table where a colorfully dressed African-American man stood to greet them, assisting the blond into a chair and placing a kiss on her flushed cheek. A moment later, the brunette stood up and began to make her way to the bar.
There was something familiar about the beautiful brown haired woman but Frank couldn't place her. As he pondered this, she almost magically appeared at his elbow.
"Thomas," she called out to the bartender. "Nancy and Roscoe need refills," she finished after getting his attention.
"Hi. You and your friend really know how to dance to this stuff," Frank said. He couldn't shake the feeling he knew her from somewhere.
"I should hope so," the woman's accent was pure honey, obvious American South. "Nancy grew up in Jamaica. She and Roscoe own this place."
"And you?" Frank questioned.
She laughed, her hazel eyes catching the light behind the bar. "I'm from the south of Jamaica, a small unknown parish known as Louisiana."
Frank laughed. "I didn't realize Louisiana was in Jamaica. I'm Frank," he added extending his hand.
The bartender returned with two bottles of Ting and a Red Stripe. "Everyting irie, Miss Sam?" he inquired. The glare he tossed Franks way was deadly.
"Yes, Thomas." SammiJo Fuller replied as she shook Frank's hand. "I'm SammiJo."
Frank helped her to carry the bottles back. "I know this sounds cliché but ..."
"… Have we met somewhere before?" SammiJo finished. "I was just thinking the same thing." They set the bottles on the table and SammiJo made introductions.
Offering his hand Frank said his name. "Frank Parker." Her photographic memory kicked in and SammiJo silently answered her question. 'Frank B. Parker of the NSA, the guest who had saved Project Quantum Leap, and my life.'
Flashing Nancy, her old college roomie, the "Don't wait up for me" smile, SammiJo suggested to Frank that they dance. Frank couldn't wait to get this fabulous woman in his arms and lead the way to the dance floor.
While dancing, the feeling of familiarity increased and Frank was becoming annoyed at himself. 'Leave it alone, Frank' he ordered himself mentally. 'It'll come when you least expect it.'
As if on cue, SammiJo leaned in to Frank and whispered his ear. "I remember when you saved my life. Thank you, Frank."
Instantly Frank Parker remembered Quantum Leap. The Waiting Room, the road trip to Roswell and the exploding car all came rushing back to him. The woman in his arms was Dr. SammiJo Fuller, the PQL staffer that helped him find and dispose of the car bomb.
"Dr. Fuller," he said as he pulled her closer still. "Can I do something I wanted to do from the moment we met?"
"Ahuh," she responded with a sigh. Their eyes locked as Frank leaned in to claim her lips with his own.
Suddenly the steel-vice hand of "Salt" was on his shoulder hauling him off the dance floor. "Parker, you've got a lot of explaining to do." Pepper growled as he parted the crowd and lead the way out of the bar.
"Next time," Frank promised SammiJo over his shoulder as he was being dragged out of the door.
'You can count on that,' SammiJo silently answered as she returned to her friends.
After being stuffed into the back seat of the Delta team's rented stereotypical dark sedan, Frank began to complain. "Your timing really stinks, you know."
Pepper smiled. "Looked just about perfect from where I stood."
Frank glared at him but then decided it wasn't worth wasting his breath pursuing it. He turned his gaze toward the window. A smiled played on his face as he reviewed, more slowly this time, the events of February in New Mexico. 'Next time, SammiJo,' he promised again.
May 18, 2000
Las Vegas, Nevada
2000 hours
Frank Parker was enjoying a well-deserved break before returning to Never Neverland. Within the past 48 hours he had reversed time another week and once again saved the world from annihilation.
He emerged from a cheaply rented motel room showered and shaved with clean clothes on his back. He had a few hours to kill as Talmadge had arranged for him to be met by Salt and Pepper at the airport at 2200.
A multitude of choices presented themselves to Frank as he wandered the infamous "Strip". He wasn't quite sure what type of entertainment he was looking for. About an hour later he found himself at a Jamaican Reggie bar with a bottle of Red Stripe in his hand. The music was pleasant and crowd watching was an interesting way to pass the time.
Out on the dance floor two women were dancing. One was a blond, about 30 years old, 5-foot-5 and wearing designer maternity clothes. The other was the same age but taller and with long chestnut brown hair. From the bar, Frank watched the brunette lead the prego off the floor after the song had ended. They made their way to a table where a colorfully dressed African-American man stood to greet them, assisting the blond into a chair and placing a kiss on her flushed cheek. A moment later, the brunette stood up and began to make her way to the bar.
There was something familiar about the beautiful brown haired woman but Frank couldn't place her. As he pondered this, she almost magically appeared at his elbow.
"Thomas," she called out to the bartender. "Nancy and Roscoe need refills," she finished after getting his attention.
"Hi. You and your friend really know how to dance to this stuff," Frank said. He couldn't shake the feeling he knew her from somewhere.
"I should hope so," the woman's accent was pure honey, obvious American South. "Nancy grew up in Jamaica. She and Roscoe own this place."
"And you?" Frank questioned.
She laughed, her hazel eyes catching the light behind the bar. "I'm from the south of Jamaica, a small unknown parish known as Louisiana."
Frank laughed. "I didn't realize Louisiana was in Jamaica. I'm Frank," he added extending his hand.
The bartender returned with two bottles of Ting and a Red Stripe. "Everyting irie, Miss Sam?" he inquired. The glare he tossed Franks way was deadly.
"Yes, Thomas." SammiJo Fuller replied as she shook Frank's hand. "I'm SammiJo."
Frank helped her to carry the bottles back. "I know this sounds cliché but ..."
"… Have we met somewhere before?" SammiJo finished. "I was just thinking the same thing." They set the bottles on the table and SammiJo made introductions.
Offering his hand Frank said his name. "Frank Parker." Her photographic memory kicked in and SammiJo silently answered her question. 'Frank B. Parker of the NSA, the guest who had saved Project Quantum Leap, and my life.'
Flashing Nancy, her old college roomie, the "Don't wait up for me" smile, SammiJo suggested to Frank that they dance. Frank couldn't wait to get this fabulous woman in his arms and lead the way to the dance floor.
While dancing, the feeling of familiarity increased and Frank was becoming annoyed at himself. 'Leave it alone, Frank' he ordered himself mentally. 'It'll come when you least expect it.'
As if on cue, SammiJo leaned in to Frank and whispered his ear. "I remember when you saved my life. Thank you, Frank."
Instantly Frank Parker remembered Quantum Leap. The Waiting Room, the road trip to Roswell and the exploding car all came rushing back to him. The woman in his arms was Dr. SammiJo Fuller, the PQL staffer that helped him find and dispose of the car bomb.
"Dr. Fuller," he said as he pulled her closer still. "Can I do something I wanted to do from the moment we met?"
"Ahuh," she responded with a sigh. Their eyes locked as Frank leaned in to claim her lips with his own.
Suddenly the steel-vice hand of "Salt" was on his shoulder hauling him off the dance floor. "Parker, you've got a lot of explaining to do." Pepper growled as he parted the crowd and lead the way out of the bar.
"Next time," Frank promised SammiJo over his shoulder as he was being dragged out of the door.
'You can count on that,' SammiJo silently answered as she returned to her friends.
After being stuffed into the back seat of the Delta team's rented stereotypical dark sedan, Frank began to complain. "Your timing really stinks, you know."
Pepper smiled. "Looked just about perfect from where I stood."
Frank glared at him but then decided it wasn't worth wasting his breath pursuing it. He turned his gaze toward the window. A smiled played on his face as he reviewed, more slowly this time, the events of February in New Mexico. 'Next time, SammiJo,' he promised again.