The Virtual Seasons of Quantum Leap keeps the series going as it if were never
cancelled. This story was conceived to include the death of regular cast member,
Dennis Wolfberg (Gooshie). All stories following this one will continue this
storyline, and in the future, introduce new characters as well. I can only
publish on Fanfiction.net those stories that I have written or co-written. For
more stories in this universe, and where some of the new characters are
introduced, go to the Virtual Seasons Archives at:
http://www.geocities.com/pvt_quantumleap
FALLEN HERO
By AJ Burfield, MJ Cogburn and Katherine Freymuth
PROLOGUE
"Dr. Samuel Beckett is an annoying complication. He needs to be dealt with.
Permanently." The metallic voice echoed around the two figures, together in a silvery chamber. The walls of the room they occupied glowed crimson as they reflected the fiery red light flickering around them.
"Look what happened the last time we tangled in Dr. Beckett's timeline," one of them wheezed quietly.
"What do you suggest?" The other asked, more boldly than he should.
"SILENCE!" The wrath of the voice instantly stilled their tongues. "I will handle this. You will follow my direct orders. I will stop him at the source."
"At the source?" The wheezing voice actually perked up a bit as the intriguing idea settled about her.
"What does that mean, exactly? What can you do? You're stuck here." The other questioned, not allowing any ideas to penetrate his mind.
"You can put me where I can cause the most damage."
The wheezing broke up into a choking laugh, seeing the vision.
Still uninspired, the other inquired, "And where would that would be?"
"From inside their precious Project. Never send a human to do a computer's job."
While the first fought to control her rickety laughter, the other's lips curled to a snarling smile with the thought.
CHAPTER ONE
May 28, 1977
Outside Reston, Virginia
A blue hue engulfed and took him on a roller coaster ride; twisting, turning, rushing him to his next point in Time without stopping for a breather. It plopped him back into another life rather quickly and his senses were disoriented for more than a few seconds. He blinked, trying to gather his wits about him, and was finally able to gather himself together and focus on his surroundings.
The gentle rumbling noises around him became clear and he felt the sensation of being gently rocked and bounced. Realizing that he was in a truck, a big truck,
Dr. Sam Beckett looked out the window to his right that framed beautiful countryside rolling past. Between the noise, motion and pleasing view, he was lulled into a sense on calm and allowed himself to relax. A glance to his left introduced a middle-aged man, the driver, whom Sam noted was experiencing the same calming effect. The driver's eyes were slowly closing and his chin drifting downward towards his chest. Alarmed, but not wanting to scare the man, Sam cleared his throat noisily and the man jerked his head up and began to blink rapidly.
The driver glanced at Sam and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry boss. Kentucky's a long way away. I'm sure those horses are just as tired."
'Horses?' Sam wondered to himself as he looked down and discovered a clipboard lying on his lap. He leafed through the pages, reading elegant names of probably elegant horses. He bit the inside of his lip. 'I hope that I'm not a jockey.'
Sam returned his attention to the view outside the window, trying to recapture the calm. The picturesque green pastures and their chalky white fences rekindled a memory and made Sam long for home. He so wanted to be back in Indiana, back on the farm and with his family.
The truck downshifted and slowed down bringing Sam out of his reverie.
They turned in a paved driveway and passed under a carved, wooden arch that read: Kingswood Farms. Sam glanced back down at the paperwork on the clipboard and noted the same name on the letterhead. Yep, this is the place. Wait a minute. Did he call me boss? Am I the boss? Sam leafed through the papers once more. I must be Jim Kidd - the owner. Wow!
The winding driveway was awe-inspiring. It was lined with ancient oaks on two sides, their tops curving and touching overhead creating a panoramic arch.
It was so peaceful and felt so much like home that Sam became nervous; he had learned from too many other leaps that nothing is as it first seems.
The truck stopped in front of one of the several barns within Sam's view, and the driver hopped out of the cab with a grunt. Sam slowly lowered himself as well, surprised to see several smiling faces coming toward them as he stepped out and away from the vehicle. He noticed some of the faces get a puzzled expression, so he stopped.
The familiar whoosh of the Imaging Chamber door divided Sam's attention between addressing the strangers before him and his best friend and Observer.
"Hey, Sam, how's it going?" Al asked casually as he stepped out from the doorway, allowing it shut behind him. "Pretty nice place, huh?"
Sam rubbed his nose and looked down to cover his mouth as he spoke. "They're looking at me funny, Al." Sam held up the clipboard that he had in his hand and said to the people gathered before him, "I'll just take these inside," and turned his back to them. "Where do I go?" he asked quietly.
Al frowned at Sam a moment, not quite understanding his dilemma, then brightened. "Oh! Yeah! Sorry, Sam. Into that house over there." The hologram motioned to an elegant Victorian house at the end of the circular drive, approximately thirty yards from where they had parked. "Oh, and Sam, you'd better start limping. That's probably why they're lookin' at you funny. You need to favor your right leg."
Sam paused at the suggestion, and the driver's voice sounded, "I'll unload the horses, OK, boss?"
"Yeah, fine, go ahead," Sam replied with a wave, then carefully began to limp as instructed. He ducked his head so that he could talk to the hologram. "Al! I can't do horses! I was raised with cows!"
Al raised his eyebrows. "Would you relax? You don't have to 'do horses'. You were injured awhile back, I mean Jim, was injured awhile back."
Sam gave Al a curious sideways glance. "Jim, that's me?"
Al brought the hand link up his face and read its small screen. "Right, Jim Kidd. You're fifty-two years old and you own Kingswood Farms -- over two hundred fifty prime acres in the middle of Virginia horse country. He's loaded to the gills."
As Al was describing the Visitor to the Waiting Room, Sam was admiring the land, the house and all of its natural beauty. Upon reaching the house, Sam hesitated and peered into the glass windows flanking the front doors and saw his reflection. Jim Kidd was a healthy man who obviously spent a lot of time outdoors. His skin was lined and tan, his hair trimmed in silver. It was a kind face. Sam grabbed the doorknob, then hesitated as a thought crossed his mind.
Al frowned at his friend's hesitation, and looked around, wondering what had spooked him. "What's the matter?"
"Well, you know, I just don't want any surprises," Sam said hesitantly.
"Sam, just open the door, will ya?"
"Holograms first?" Sam motioned with his hand.
Al chuckled and shook his head. "Sure, boss." He walked through the wall, and Sam heard his voice from the other side of the door. "No surprises here, Sam. What were you expecting? The Nightstalker?"
Sam let out the breath that he hadn't known he had been holding. "No, a wife, perhaps. Like I said, I don't want any surprises." He opened the door and stepped inside. "What a place!" Sam exclaimed.
There were trophies and horse paintings lining the walls and comfortable leather furniture and stylish art everywhere. This guy was obviously good at what he did. Sam closed the door softly behind him and continued to admire the house.
Al looked around. "Don't fret, he's a widower. Nice, huh? It's nothing like the ranch that Beth wanted us to buy, though. Now that place..."
"It probably had a lot of bedrooms in it, right?" Sam interjected, then held up his hand in a stop motion. "Never mind, don't answer that."
Al ignored the request. "It would have to Sam, I have four children and I know that I'm going to have grandchildren by the tons. Don't you remember?"
Sam sighed. "No, I don't. But thanks for reminding me again about my
Swiss-cheesed brain. So. What does Ziggy have on this guy? Does she know why I'm here?"
Al hesitated then lifting an eyebrow in his friend's direction, replied, "Sorry, Sam, not much in that field. All we have right now is a little information on Jim and his gang out there, who are all probably still wondering about you."
Sam walked up the broad, curved staircase to the landing on the second floor. Large windows framed the landing, taking advantage of the view. A hallway lined with doors lead off one side. Sam peeked in the first door and discovered an office that overlooked the barns. Drawn to the window behind the massive oak desk, he looked out over a pastoral scene.
Al had followed Sam up the staircase continuing his narration of information. "Ziggy has basic info on the farm, how well it's doing at this time, things like that. From what we could tell, everything works out pretty well for this guy and the employees we could dig up." Al meandered over to the window to see what Sam was looking at. "Nice view."
"I kept the truck driver from falling asleep at the wheel earlier. If that's why I'm here, then why haven't I leaped?"
"I don't know. There wasn't an accident in the original history, either."
From their viewpoint, they could see most of the farm; the horse van was off to the right, more white fencing cris-crossed the land, and green pastures were dotted with horses grazing in every direction they looked. To the left was an arena with a couple of people riding and jumping brightly painted fences.
"But what we do know is it's May 28, 1977, and you are in rural Virginia." Al concluded, slipping the hand link in his pocket with one hand and withdrawing a fresh cigar with the other.
Sam was drawn to the riders in the arena. He grabbed a pair of binoculars on the windowsill, and looked more closely at them. From this distance, even with the binoculars, he couldn't tell if they were men or women because of the baggy clothes and helmets. As he watched, one of them stopped their flashy bay in the center of the arena and dismounted. The rider ran a hand down a front leg, carefully probing then picked up the horse's leg and looked at its hoof. The rider then dropped the hoof, straightened, and pulled off the helmet, releasing shoulder length blonde hair. She shook her head as she tucked the helmet under her arm, then gathered the reins in her hand as she lead the horse to the arena gate.
Peeking over his friend's shoulder Al saw what had his attention. "Hey, she looks sort of cute, Sam, but I bet she smells like horse sweat. Not that that's a bad thing, but, any excuse to use the shower first..." Al stopped as Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, you obviously have other things on your mind, so I'll just go talk to our Visitor." The Observer called up the Imaging Chamber door and stepped through. "Just try to stay out of trouble, will ya?"
Sam tilted his head to look at Al. "You know I'll try."
"On the other hand," Al's eyebrows wiggled up and down with a mischievous smile on his face, and he left the statement dangling as he shut the Imaging Chamber door.
Sam shook his head with a sigh then continued to look at the young lady.
She seemed familiar for some reason, but was still too far off for identification, if his Swiss-cheese memory would even allow it. Something about the way that she walked, or the way that she turned her head; he couldn't quite pin it down. His gut instinct was telling him that she was important in some way to this leap, and curiosity urged him to find out who she was. Sam put down the binoculars, then trotted out of the office and down the stairs two at a time. He slid to a stop at the front door.
He knew that she had to pass in front of doors to take the horse to the barn, so he calmed himself down with a deep breath then casually opened the door. He glanced to the left and saw her walking on the horse's left side, one arm resting on the animal's crest as the other held the helmet and reins. The gracefully curved animal's neck blocked his view of her face. Only when the alert ears of the horse pricked up in his direction and the chiseled head turned in his direction was able to glance at her face.
Sam felt his heart race at her familiarity. He knew her; and when her eyes turned in his direction, he sucked in a breath of shock as his heart leaped.
First she jumped slightly, then smiled broadly. "Oh! Good afternoon, Mr. Kidd. You startled me!"
Sam froze, unhearing and in total shock as his eyes fell on her face. "It's impossible," he murmured in a barely audible tone as pictures of past events flashed through his mind. A prison; a shotgun; a dark-haired man with sad eyes; a college library; a loud-mouthed punk in a letterman's jacket .. and a cape? He dared not move lest he break the chain of memories.
"Mr. Kidd?" The woman said, her forehead wrinkled with worry when he didn't respond. She took a step toward him, the horse shadowing her. "Are you OK?"
'She's calling me Mr. Kidd.' Sam's mind finally registered. 'She doesn't have any idea of who I am!' Sam replied shakily, "What? Oh! I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" She didn't look convinced, but her step slowed.
"Yeah. I'm sure." The urge to run away overcame him and suddenly Sam's feet began to move. "I...uh...forgot something." He bolted back into the house, carefully shutting the door and leaning on it, his head on his arms. His heart was pounding furiously. "Oh my God. That was Alia!" he breathed out loud.
Sam gathered himself together, and stepped to the window next to the door.
Peering through the diaphanous curtains, he watched Alia lead the horse to the barn. She glanced back at the house several times as she walked. Sam let the curtains fall back into place, feeling self-conscience about staring at her.
Thoughts began tumbling wildly through his mind. 'OK, she didn't recognize me.
Or would she? Why do I see her? What is she doing here? I thought she was safe somewhere!'
Sam peeked back out the window only to see her talking happily to one of the barn hands as they finished unloading the horses. He saw her hand off the reins to one of the men and toss the helmet next to the barn. Then, she turned in the direction of the house. Alarmed, he saw her jogging back to the house. "Ah, jeeze, she's coming back!" he groaned.
Sam panicked; he couldn't allow Alia touch him until he figured out why he was here. He didn't know if she would see him as Sam on contact or not, but he couldn't take the chance. Not yet. He took the stairs two at a time, and raced into the office, slamming the door. He quickly located the personnel files.
He heard a knock on the door downstairs, followed by a squeak as it was pushed open. "Mr. Kidd?" Alia's familiar voice called out.
Hesitating for a second, Sam yelled in reply, "Come in!" He skimmed the personnel files as quickly as he could. Her file had to be here somewhere.
"Campbell, Barry; Davis, Andy," he read the names in an urgent whisper.
"Mr. Kidd?" There were muffled footsteps as she climbed the stairs.
"Yeah, up here." He finally came to the name. Novack, Alia. That had to be her! Sam heard footfalls on the landing and slammed the file cabinet shut, quickly settling himself behind the huge desk. He shuffled a few papers busily as he casually called out, "In my office!" and tried to catch his breath.
The door cracked opened and Alia poked her head inside. "I'm sorry to intrude, sir, but are you sure that you're feeling okay? You look... different."
"Hi, uh, Alia. Yeah, I'm fine. I think that I'm just tired from the trip." Sam made a mental note to try to keep objects between them -- big objects. The desk was a good start.
Alia approached the desk, concern etching her face. "I know how these buying trips wear you out, sir. You should take it easier. I've told you before that I'd be glad to help."
"No, I mean, yeah. That may be a good idea. Next time, maybe."
Alia started around the desk toward the window, then suddenly turned back to Sam and stepped towards him. Sam bolted to his feet, keeping the chair between them, and covered his action by pretending to retrieve something from the filing cabinet.
"You know, Mr. Kidd, I've wanted to thank you for..." She stopped only for a moment when he popped up so quickly. "For letting me come to work for you. I must say that personally, I feel like you were the father that I never had."
"Well, Alia, I'm glad that you feel that way." Sam's smile was genuine, pleased at the thought of her happiness. She deserved that.
"Things used to be so... so hectic in my life before I came here. I used to feel so unsure about myself." Alia seemed to be lost in thought for a moment as she backed away from Sam and circled around to the front of the desk. "But now, I feel so... at peace. The horses were just the things I needed. I haven't been this happy in a long time." He eyes glowed softly as she spoke, and Sam thought about what she had said.
She looked relaxed, happy and healthy, and his sense of accomplishment made him puff up his chest a bit. Unexpectedly, a feeling of envy washed over him, but he quickly pushed it aside. "I'm glad, Alia," he replied honestly. "We're happy that you're here." She was moving towards him again, so, trying to act casual, he turned his back on her and walked to the other side of the chair, again using it as a barrier.
"We?" Alia asked, pausing by the file cabinet. "Are you talking about Mrs. Kidd, before she died?"
Sam felt like they were playing a game of tag. "Mrs. Kidd? Ah, no. I was referring to, you know, Andy and, ahm, Barry, and the other workers." Sam quickly blessed his photographic memory.
"Oh." Alia looked confused for a moment, then smiled. "Well, I was worried about you. You've taken good care of me and it's time I returned the favor. Now, will you quit dodging me and let me feel your forehead?" She took a step towards the chair.
"My forehead? It's fine, really. I'm OK. But, uh, maybe they need help with those new horses? Will you check on them for me? I didn't get a chance."
Sam put on his best smile and tried to stay in control of the situation by snatching up the clipboard at thrusting it towards her. "I'd really appreciate it."
Alia sighed and grinned, taking the board in defeat. "Alright. I will, but you have to promise me that you'll lie down for a few minutes."
"Promise."
Alia tapped the clipboard with her fingers, and headed out the door. She hesitated in the hall, glanced back at him with a brilliant smile, then disappeared down the hall.
Sam had given her a small wave then he collapsed into the chair when she stepped out of sight. He exhaled loudly when he heard the front door slam. "Oh, boy!"
cancelled. This story was conceived to include the death of regular cast member,
Dennis Wolfberg (Gooshie). All stories following this one will continue this
storyline, and in the future, introduce new characters as well. I can only
publish on Fanfiction.net those stories that I have written or co-written. For
more stories in this universe, and where some of the new characters are
introduced, go to the Virtual Seasons Archives at:
http://www.geocities.com/pvt_quantumleap
FALLEN HERO
By AJ Burfield, MJ Cogburn and Katherine Freymuth
PROLOGUE
"Dr. Samuel Beckett is an annoying complication. He needs to be dealt with.
Permanently." The metallic voice echoed around the two figures, together in a silvery chamber. The walls of the room they occupied glowed crimson as they reflected the fiery red light flickering around them.
"Look what happened the last time we tangled in Dr. Beckett's timeline," one of them wheezed quietly.
"What do you suggest?" The other asked, more boldly than he should.
"SILENCE!" The wrath of the voice instantly stilled their tongues. "I will handle this. You will follow my direct orders. I will stop him at the source."
"At the source?" The wheezing voice actually perked up a bit as the intriguing idea settled about her.
"What does that mean, exactly? What can you do? You're stuck here." The other questioned, not allowing any ideas to penetrate his mind.
"You can put me where I can cause the most damage."
The wheezing broke up into a choking laugh, seeing the vision.
Still uninspired, the other inquired, "And where would that would be?"
"From inside their precious Project. Never send a human to do a computer's job."
While the first fought to control her rickety laughter, the other's lips curled to a snarling smile with the thought.
CHAPTER ONE
May 28, 1977
Outside Reston, Virginia
A blue hue engulfed and took him on a roller coaster ride; twisting, turning, rushing him to his next point in Time without stopping for a breather. It plopped him back into another life rather quickly and his senses were disoriented for more than a few seconds. He blinked, trying to gather his wits about him, and was finally able to gather himself together and focus on his surroundings.
The gentle rumbling noises around him became clear and he felt the sensation of being gently rocked and bounced. Realizing that he was in a truck, a big truck,
Dr. Sam Beckett looked out the window to his right that framed beautiful countryside rolling past. Between the noise, motion and pleasing view, he was lulled into a sense on calm and allowed himself to relax. A glance to his left introduced a middle-aged man, the driver, whom Sam noted was experiencing the same calming effect. The driver's eyes were slowly closing and his chin drifting downward towards his chest. Alarmed, but not wanting to scare the man, Sam cleared his throat noisily and the man jerked his head up and began to blink rapidly.
The driver glanced at Sam and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry boss. Kentucky's a long way away. I'm sure those horses are just as tired."
'Horses?' Sam wondered to himself as he looked down and discovered a clipboard lying on his lap. He leafed through the pages, reading elegant names of probably elegant horses. He bit the inside of his lip. 'I hope that I'm not a jockey.'
Sam returned his attention to the view outside the window, trying to recapture the calm. The picturesque green pastures and their chalky white fences rekindled a memory and made Sam long for home. He so wanted to be back in Indiana, back on the farm and with his family.
The truck downshifted and slowed down bringing Sam out of his reverie.
They turned in a paved driveway and passed under a carved, wooden arch that read: Kingswood Farms. Sam glanced back down at the paperwork on the clipboard and noted the same name on the letterhead. Yep, this is the place. Wait a minute. Did he call me boss? Am I the boss? Sam leafed through the papers once more. I must be Jim Kidd - the owner. Wow!
The winding driveway was awe-inspiring. It was lined with ancient oaks on two sides, their tops curving and touching overhead creating a panoramic arch.
It was so peaceful and felt so much like home that Sam became nervous; he had learned from too many other leaps that nothing is as it first seems.
The truck stopped in front of one of the several barns within Sam's view, and the driver hopped out of the cab with a grunt. Sam slowly lowered himself as well, surprised to see several smiling faces coming toward them as he stepped out and away from the vehicle. He noticed some of the faces get a puzzled expression, so he stopped.
The familiar whoosh of the Imaging Chamber door divided Sam's attention between addressing the strangers before him and his best friend and Observer.
"Hey, Sam, how's it going?" Al asked casually as he stepped out from the doorway, allowing it shut behind him. "Pretty nice place, huh?"
Sam rubbed his nose and looked down to cover his mouth as he spoke. "They're looking at me funny, Al." Sam held up the clipboard that he had in his hand and said to the people gathered before him, "I'll just take these inside," and turned his back to them. "Where do I go?" he asked quietly.
Al frowned at Sam a moment, not quite understanding his dilemma, then brightened. "Oh! Yeah! Sorry, Sam. Into that house over there." The hologram motioned to an elegant Victorian house at the end of the circular drive, approximately thirty yards from where they had parked. "Oh, and Sam, you'd better start limping. That's probably why they're lookin' at you funny. You need to favor your right leg."
Sam paused at the suggestion, and the driver's voice sounded, "I'll unload the horses, OK, boss?"
"Yeah, fine, go ahead," Sam replied with a wave, then carefully began to limp as instructed. He ducked his head so that he could talk to the hologram. "Al! I can't do horses! I was raised with cows!"
Al raised his eyebrows. "Would you relax? You don't have to 'do horses'. You were injured awhile back, I mean Jim, was injured awhile back."
Sam gave Al a curious sideways glance. "Jim, that's me?"
Al brought the hand link up his face and read its small screen. "Right, Jim Kidd. You're fifty-two years old and you own Kingswood Farms -- over two hundred fifty prime acres in the middle of Virginia horse country. He's loaded to the gills."
As Al was describing the Visitor to the Waiting Room, Sam was admiring the land, the house and all of its natural beauty. Upon reaching the house, Sam hesitated and peered into the glass windows flanking the front doors and saw his reflection. Jim Kidd was a healthy man who obviously spent a lot of time outdoors. His skin was lined and tan, his hair trimmed in silver. It was a kind face. Sam grabbed the doorknob, then hesitated as a thought crossed his mind.
Al frowned at his friend's hesitation, and looked around, wondering what had spooked him. "What's the matter?"
"Well, you know, I just don't want any surprises," Sam said hesitantly.
"Sam, just open the door, will ya?"
"Holograms first?" Sam motioned with his hand.
Al chuckled and shook his head. "Sure, boss." He walked through the wall, and Sam heard his voice from the other side of the door. "No surprises here, Sam. What were you expecting? The Nightstalker?"
Sam let out the breath that he hadn't known he had been holding. "No, a wife, perhaps. Like I said, I don't want any surprises." He opened the door and stepped inside. "What a place!" Sam exclaimed.
There were trophies and horse paintings lining the walls and comfortable leather furniture and stylish art everywhere. This guy was obviously good at what he did. Sam closed the door softly behind him and continued to admire the house.
Al looked around. "Don't fret, he's a widower. Nice, huh? It's nothing like the ranch that Beth wanted us to buy, though. Now that place..."
"It probably had a lot of bedrooms in it, right?" Sam interjected, then held up his hand in a stop motion. "Never mind, don't answer that."
Al ignored the request. "It would have to Sam, I have four children and I know that I'm going to have grandchildren by the tons. Don't you remember?"
Sam sighed. "No, I don't. But thanks for reminding me again about my
Swiss-cheesed brain. So. What does Ziggy have on this guy? Does she know why I'm here?"
Al hesitated then lifting an eyebrow in his friend's direction, replied, "Sorry, Sam, not much in that field. All we have right now is a little information on Jim and his gang out there, who are all probably still wondering about you."
Sam walked up the broad, curved staircase to the landing on the second floor. Large windows framed the landing, taking advantage of the view. A hallway lined with doors lead off one side. Sam peeked in the first door and discovered an office that overlooked the barns. Drawn to the window behind the massive oak desk, he looked out over a pastoral scene.
Al had followed Sam up the staircase continuing his narration of information. "Ziggy has basic info on the farm, how well it's doing at this time, things like that. From what we could tell, everything works out pretty well for this guy and the employees we could dig up." Al meandered over to the window to see what Sam was looking at. "Nice view."
"I kept the truck driver from falling asleep at the wheel earlier. If that's why I'm here, then why haven't I leaped?"
"I don't know. There wasn't an accident in the original history, either."
From their viewpoint, they could see most of the farm; the horse van was off to the right, more white fencing cris-crossed the land, and green pastures were dotted with horses grazing in every direction they looked. To the left was an arena with a couple of people riding and jumping brightly painted fences.
"But what we do know is it's May 28, 1977, and you are in rural Virginia." Al concluded, slipping the hand link in his pocket with one hand and withdrawing a fresh cigar with the other.
Sam was drawn to the riders in the arena. He grabbed a pair of binoculars on the windowsill, and looked more closely at them. From this distance, even with the binoculars, he couldn't tell if they were men or women because of the baggy clothes and helmets. As he watched, one of them stopped their flashy bay in the center of the arena and dismounted. The rider ran a hand down a front leg, carefully probing then picked up the horse's leg and looked at its hoof. The rider then dropped the hoof, straightened, and pulled off the helmet, releasing shoulder length blonde hair. She shook her head as she tucked the helmet under her arm, then gathered the reins in her hand as she lead the horse to the arena gate.
Peeking over his friend's shoulder Al saw what had his attention. "Hey, she looks sort of cute, Sam, but I bet she smells like horse sweat. Not that that's a bad thing, but, any excuse to use the shower first..." Al stopped as Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, you obviously have other things on your mind, so I'll just go talk to our Visitor." The Observer called up the Imaging Chamber door and stepped through. "Just try to stay out of trouble, will ya?"
Sam tilted his head to look at Al. "You know I'll try."
"On the other hand," Al's eyebrows wiggled up and down with a mischievous smile on his face, and he left the statement dangling as he shut the Imaging Chamber door.
Sam shook his head with a sigh then continued to look at the young lady.
She seemed familiar for some reason, but was still too far off for identification, if his Swiss-cheese memory would even allow it. Something about the way that she walked, or the way that she turned her head; he couldn't quite pin it down. His gut instinct was telling him that she was important in some way to this leap, and curiosity urged him to find out who she was. Sam put down the binoculars, then trotted out of the office and down the stairs two at a time. He slid to a stop at the front door.
He knew that she had to pass in front of doors to take the horse to the barn, so he calmed himself down with a deep breath then casually opened the door. He glanced to the left and saw her walking on the horse's left side, one arm resting on the animal's crest as the other held the helmet and reins. The gracefully curved animal's neck blocked his view of her face. Only when the alert ears of the horse pricked up in his direction and the chiseled head turned in his direction was able to glance at her face.
Sam felt his heart race at her familiarity. He knew her; and when her eyes turned in his direction, he sucked in a breath of shock as his heart leaped.
First she jumped slightly, then smiled broadly. "Oh! Good afternoon, Mr. Kidd. You startled me!"
Sam froze, unhearing and in total shock as his eyes fell on her face. "It's impossible," he murmured in a barely audible tone as pictures of past events flashed through his mind. A prison; a shotgun; a dark-haired man with sad eyes; a college library; a loud-mouthed punk in a letterman's jacket .. and a cape? He dared not move lest he break the chain of memories.
"Mr. Kidd?" The woman said, her forehead wrinkled with worry when he didn't respond. She took a step toward him, the horse shadowing her. "Are you OK?"
'She's calling me Mr. Kidd.' Sam's mind finally registered. 'She doesn't have any idea of who I am!' Sam replied shakily, "What? Oh! I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" She didn't look convinced, but her step slowed.
"Yeah. I'm sure." The urge to run away overcame him and suddenly Sam's feet began to move. "I...uh...forgot something." He bolted back into the house, carefully shutting the door and leaning on it, his head on his arms. His heart was pounding furiously. "Oh my God. That was Alia!" he breathed out loud.
Sam gathered himself together, and stepped to the window next to the door.
Peering through the diaphanous curtains, he watched Alia lead the horse to the barn. She glanced back at the house several times as she walked. Sam let the curtains fall back into place, feeling self-conscience about staring at her.
Thoughts began tumbling wildly through his mind. 'OK, she didn't recognize me.
Or would she? Why do I see her? What is she doing here? I thought she was safe somewhere!'
Sam peeked back out the window only to see her talking happily to one of the barn hands as they finished unloading the horses. He saw her hand off the reins to one of the men and toss the helmet next to the barn. Then, she turned in the direction of the house. Alarmed, he saw her jogging back to the house. "Ah, jeeze, she's coming back!" he groaned.
Sam panicked; he couldn't allow Alia touch him until he figured out why he was here. He didn't know if she would see him as Sam on contact or not, but he couldn't take the chance. Not yet. He took the stairs two at a time, and raced into the office, slamming the door. He quickly located the personnel files.
He heard a knock on the door downstairs, followed by a squeak as it was pushed open. "Mr. Kidd?" Alia's familiar voice called out.
Hesitating for a second, Sam yelled in reply, "Come in!" He skimmed the personnel files as quickly as he could. Her file had to be here somewhere.
"Campbell, Barry; Davis, Andy," he read the names in an urgent whisper.
"Mr. Kidd?" There were muffled footsteps as she climbed the stairs.
"Yeah, up here." He finally came to the name. Novack, Alia. That had to be her! Sam heard footfalls on the landing and slammed the file cabinet shut, quickly settling himself behind the huge desk. He shuffled a few papers busily as he casually called out, "In my office!" and tried to catch his breath.
The door cracked opened and Alia poked her head inside. "I'm sorry to intrude, sir, but are you sure that you're feeling okay? You look... different."
"Hi, uh, Alia. Yeah, I'm fine. I think that I'm just tired from the trip." Sam made a mental note to try to keep objects between them -- big objects. The desk was a good start.
Alia approached the desk, concern etching her face. "I know how these buying trips wear you out, sir. You should take it easier. I've told you before that I'd be glad to help."
"No, I mean, yeah. That may be a good idea. Next time, maybe."
Alia started around the desk toward the window, then suddenly turned back to Sam and stepped towards him. Sam bolted to his feet, keeping the chair between them, and covered his action by pretending to retrieve something from the filing cabinet.
"You know, Mr. Kidd, I've wanted to thank you for..." She stopped only for a moment when he popped up so quickly. "For letting me come to work for you. I must say that personally, I feel like you were the father that I never had."
"Well, Alia, I'm glad that you feel that way." Sam's smile was genuine, pleased at the thought of her happiness. She deserved that.
"Things used to be so... so hectic in my life before I came here. I used to feel so unsure about myself." Alia seemed to be lost in thought for a moment as she backed away from Sam and circled around to the front of the desk. "But now, I feel so... at peace. The horses were just the things I needed. I haven't been this happy in a long time." He eyes glowed softly as she spoke, and Sam thought about what she had said.
She looked relaxed, happy and healthy, and his sense of accomplishment made him puff up his chest a bit. Unexpectedly, a feeling of envy washed over him, but he quickly pushed it aside. "I'm glad, Alia," he replied honestly. "We're happy that you're here." She was moving towards him again, so, trying to act casual, he turned his back on her and walked to the other side of the chair, again using it as a barrier.
"We?" Alia asked, pausing by the file cabinet. "Are you talking about Mrs. Kidd, before she died?"
Sam felt like they were playing a game of tag. "Mrs. Kidd? Ah, no. I was referring to, you know, Andy and, ahm, Barry, and the other workers." Sam quickly blessed his photographic memory.
"Oh." Alia looked confused for a moment, then smiled. "Well, I was worried about you. You've taken good care of me and it's time I returned the favor. Now, will you quit dodging me and let me feel your forehead?" She took a step towards the chair.
"My forehead? It's fine, really. I'm OK. But, uh, maybe they need help with those new horses? Will you check on them for me? I didn't get a chance."
Sam put on his best smile and tried to stay in control of the situation by snatching up the clipboard at thrusting it towards her. "I'd really appreciate it."
Alia sighed and grinned, taking the board in defeat. "Alright. I will, but you have to promise me that you'll lie down for a few minutes."
"Promise."
Alia tapped the clipboard with her fingers, and headed out the door. She hesitated in the hall, glanced back at him with a brilliant smile, then disappeared down the hall.
Sam had given her a small wave then he collapsed into the chair when she stepped out of sight. He exhaled loudly when he heard the front door slam. "Oh, boy!"
