The Knight and the Jester

Chapter Three

Sam had been left in the bed of the leapee, the top of a bunk bed shared with Dale (the one in the Hawaiian shirt). He looked around and marveled at how human the furnishings of the room were, especially considering that they had been put together out of human trash. There was even a rodent-sized copy of the latest album by Iron Goose. Most prominent in the room was a large tin-foil mirror, so situated that Sam could see his reflection from practically anywhere in the room. After trying in vain to solve the mystery of what happened to his reflection's ears as he donned and doffed the fedora he leaped into, Sam turned away from the mirror to try and figure out some of the stranger aspects of the leap so far. He had been left to recover by the other animals, apparently from whatever happened to the leapee just before Sam leaped in. He was also waiting for Al, but he had learned to expect the Observer to be late.

"Sam! Sam, are you alone?"

Sam sat up and looked around for Al. "It's okay, Al, you can come out. Where are you?"

"Down here."

Sam looked down at the bottom bunk. He tried to suppress a laugh, but the sight of his friend less than knee-high was far too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Very funny." Al jumped off the bed onto the natural wood floor and began working with the control device in his hand. "Gushie, didn't I tell you you had me too small?!" He turned back up to the huge head of Sam. "Get down here so I can get the scale adjusted properly."

Sam remembered his attire just in time, creating a makeshift toga out of his bed sheet before hopping down to the ground. "So let's see... are you a shoemaker's elf, or do you work for Santa?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha," Al deadpanned. He held his free hand out flat at about the level of his forehead. "Go ahead, Gushie, I'll tell you when to stop."

Al gradually increased in size until his hand was level with the top of Sam's head. "Okay, stop."

Sam frowned suspiciously. "Aren't you a little shorter than that?"

"Not for this leap."

Sam shrugged it off. "So what do you have for me?"

"You are a talking chipmunk named Chip." Al rolled his eyes as it suddenly hit him. "Chip the chipmunk. Of course. If I'm lucky, this will all turn out to be a very weird dream."

"Anything else? Does Ziggy know why I'm here?"

Al gave Sam a sarcastic look. "I knew I forgot something. Ziggy, by any chance could you look in your 'chipmunk database' and tell me everything you know about Chip Chipmunk, since I'm sure they lead such interesting lives.... Hey, don't use that tone with me, I was just kidding!" He addressed that last remark to the ceiling. "Have you figured anything out?"

"Well, Chip belongs to a group called the Rescue Rangers. They help people and animals out of trouble, just like us!"

"Sort of like an animal rescue aid society, huh?" Al shook his head in amazement. "This just keeps getting better and better. So if they're all animals, do they see you as Chip or as Sam?"

"I'm apparently Chip to them, but I have no idea why. Maybe it has to do with their being sentient."

"I guess that means they won't be able to see me, either. Weird. Let's see...the other two categories of people that can see us as we really are are children and psychics. Any of them around?"

"Children, no. Psychics...I don't think so."

The observer nodded. "That simplifies things. So, who else is in this 'Rescue Ranger' group?"

"Well, there's two mice named Monterey Jack and Gadget, a fly named Zipper..."

Al shook his head. "Ooo! The teasing those three must have gotten in school because of their names!"

Sam ignored that remark. "There's also another chipmunk... "

"Wait, let me guess, the other chipmunk is named Dale, right?"

"That's right! How did you know?"

"They're two chipmunks. What else do you name them besides Chip 'n' Dale?"

"Chip 'n' Dale? Oh, you mean like the furniture?"

".... Uh, yes, that's right...like the furniture." Al sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "All I've got to say is this had better be a bad dream, or else I'll be lying on a piece of 'Bena's furniture before this leap is over, specifically her couch. Okay, what else?"

"They are currently trying to recover a stolen diamond from a crime lord named Fat Cat."

"And he's called 'Fat Cat' because he's an overweight tabby, right?"

"Stop interrupting! The other Rangers said they thought that Fat Cat was going to exchange the diamond for a device to drive all dogs from the city."

Al put a dumb look on his face. "Makes sense," he said in a moronic voice then broke out in a giggle.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly all right. You're in a chipmunk, and all the animals speak English and wear bomber jackets and work off the caseload of Unsolved Mysteries. They've probably been doing this for years, and no one in the human world has ever noticed. Perfectly fine with me!"

"Maybe you should have Verbena talk to Chip alone to try to find out what's going to happen. You need a rest."

"Oh no, I couldn't think of missing a word of what Mr. Chipmunk has to say. I'll be right back." And with that Al was gone.

Sam worried about Al sometimes.

"...and while he's taking my place, this Doctor Beckett is supposed to prevent something awful from happening, something I wouldn't be able to handle myself?"

Doctor Beeks nodded. "That's right."

Chip was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs swinging and bumping against the lowered side panel. "You have to admit it's hard to swallow."

"I could bring the mirror back," volunteered Al.

Chip shuddered. "No, I believe you." He was suddenly very grateful that all metallic surfaces in the Waiting Room were burnished to block clear reflections.

Verbena spoke up. "So, can you think of anything bad that you or your team might encounter in the future?"

"The only thing the Rescue Rangers have had to worry about is being destroyed." Al made an odd face at this, but Chip ignored it and continued. "We have picked up a lot of enemies over the years, many of whom would like to see us dead. I've done quite well dealing with all of these threats so far, so whatever's going to happen to your Sam in my place, it's going to be big, really big. I don't see how he could possibly handle something I can't."

Verbena made a notation in the electronic case history. Al leaned over to see that it was "over-inflated ego". He whipped out a stencil and added the word "hugely" in front.

Chip continued on. "If I can't go back right now, and if Doctor Beckett is going to have to handle this in my place, you're going to have to let me out of here, so I can find out what happened to me." He hopped down from the bed.

Admiral Calavicci stood up. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to solve this case. I am a detective, after all."

For some reason Al suddenly imagined the voice of the leapee introducing his own television show: "It was a dark and stormy night. The dame was beautiful. She was also dead. That's where I step in. The name's Chip Chipmunk, Private Eye." With an effort, Al managed to control himself. "There are plenty of good reasons why you can't do this yourself. First of all, your mind is swiss-cheesed."

"Actually," interrupted Verbena, "his memory appears to be completely intact. I have no idea why, though."

"Maybe it's because I've traveled through time before," volunteered Chip.

Al face-faulted. "Don't tell me about it, I don't want to know! Alright, well, second, you're wearing the face of Doctor Sam Beckett, and if anyone recognized you during your investigation, this project would be in serious jeopardy." Chip didn't appear to have an answer for this one. Al continued on. "Third, if you got hurt or worse, I don't know what that would do for Sam's chances to leap out--which would leave you stuck here and now. Finally, and I think this is the clincher, you are wearing the body of Sam Beckett and I doubt that will give you any advantage over any other human being when it comes to asking any of your animal friends their alibis for the night of the 12th."

Chip sat back on the bed with his head bowed, defeated. "So I suppose you are going to go out there, instead."

Al shook his head. "I can't go, 'cause I'm the only link with Sam."

"And I don't think I or anyone else on the staff can be spared," volunteered Verbena.

"So what are we going to do?"

Al sat back down again to think. "I've got a friend I could call. Only thing is, I can't see how I can do it without the secret of animal intelligence leaking out."

Chip nodded. "I know what you mean. There's a human I can trust in the FBI that I could call to investigate my disappearance, but I don't know how to brief him without his learning about your project, and I don't think this is the sort of secret he would keep." He looked up to see Al grinning at him.

"Oh, I think Agent Fox Mulder can keep a secret, don't you?"

Chip gasped. "How did you know that's who I was talking about? Oh, I see--so he's the person you were talking about. What do you suppose the chances are that he'd know about both of us?"

"If I know one thing about Mulder, it's that he's very good at attracting the unusual."

"I still can't accept your theory. What about the security guard?"

"That's where the ectoplasm comes in. You see if the phantasm resonates at the proper frequency, when it passes through living flesh..."

At that moment the phone rang. Scully was sitting on Mulder's desk, so she was the first one at the phone. "You've reached the X-Files division of the FBI, where our motto is, 'We're ready to believe you!'"

"Give me that! This is Special Agent Mulder. Please ignore my partner. What can I do for you?" Scully grinned and stuck her tongue out.

The voice on the phone was nervous. "Um, I doubt you recognize me, but I need your help."

"Why of course I recognize you, Doctor Sam Beckett. How could I possibly forget you?"

"What was that noise I just heard?"

"That was my partner falling off of my desk. I've just about finished telling her everything you did the time you occupied her aura."

Scully popped up from the floor, her eyes wide. "You didn't tell me everything?" she mouthed to Mulder.

"Oh, I haven't even started on the really embarrassing stuff," he answered with a grin. He turned back to the phone. "But it doesn't really matter that I recognize your voice, because of course you're not really Doctor Beckett."

"No, you're right," answered the voice. "This is Chip. Do you remember me?"

Mulder thought for a bit. "Not Chip from the...how do I know it's really you?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Well, there was that one night when you admitted you had a crush on Gadget...."

Mulder heard a high-pitched laugh from someone else on the other side of the line. He looked over nervously to see if Scully overheard that embarrassing little revelation, but fortunately for him she was sitting rather primly in her chair, casting her eyes back and forth as if looking for invisible people. "Okay, I believe you," he said. "But I'm still a little confused. Project Quantum Leap is very good at taking care of its own matters. What do you need us for?"

"Well, being a chipmunk means that the Project doesn't have the edge it apparently has most of the time. Do you know if anything has happened to me and the other Rescue Rangers over the last seven years?"

"Seven years ago...seven years ago...I believe it was business as usual for the Rangers seven years ago...do you remember anything, Scully?"

Scully rolled her eyes. "You could mention the break-up."

"What was that?!" cried Chip.

Mulder covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "That was three years ago, not seven. I thought the rule was to keep as much of the future as possible from the subject."

Scully shrugged. "Maybe the root cause was seven years ago."

"You're talking about a four-year grudge, Scully."

"I'm talking about Chip, Mulder."

Mulder grimaced and removed his hand from the phone. "Chip..."

"What's this about a break-up?!" Chip practically screamed.

"It's probably nothing...I said it's probably nothing, but there is a chance that the Rangers broke...or should I say are going to break...or has been nearly broken...Scully, you're the time-travel expert here--what's the correct tense of 'to break up' when the subject is in the future but came from the past in relation to an event that is in the past for the object but..."

"WILL YOU JUST SPIT IT OUT!!!!!"

Mulder held the phone a few feet away from his ear with one hand while rubbing the hearing back into his ear with the other for a few seconds. "Sorry about that, Chip. Let's just say that from your point of view the Rescue Rangers have four years left as an organization and it might be possible that something you did or didn't do on the day Sam leapt into you had something to do with it."

There was silence on the other end of the line for nearly a minute. When Chip spoke again the voice was so faint Mulder had trouble making it out. "Do...do you know why..."

Mulder handed the phone to Scully. It was easy enough for her to guess Chip's question. "We remained friends with all of them after it happened, to a greater or lesser extent," she said. "None of them would tell us why. Now look, Chip. You now know what to look for. With your help, and with the admiral's help, Sam should be able to set everything right. It's what he does, and he's very good at it. In the meantime, Mulder and I will go and interview the present day versions of the Rescue Rangers to see if we can find out what happened. It may not be necessary, but I couldn't stand by if there was a chance of helping you out. Just have Admiral Calavicci give us a number where we can contact him. We should be in the city in a few hours."