Outside of Hank's store, Sam tried to throw the ring away in a dumpster, but it made no difference in the history according to Ziggy, so he ended up dumpster diving to fish it back out. Finding the ring again in the midst of the rubbish took time, too much precious time when all he had left was hours, but the ring was the key, Sam knew, and if throwing it away didn't save Jack and Holly, then he probably needed it for something else.

He and Holly started the long drive back, Sam smelling like dumpster and brooding over the fate that awaited him. Holly picked up on his mood and asked him what was wrong. Sam couldn't lie to her, but he didn't want to tell her that now she was going to die as well, so he simply told her that the danger wasn't yet passed.

As if talking to himself but addressing Al, he said, "I wonder what would happen if we just went away for a few days..."

Al checked the hand-link. "No change."

Holly, of course, didn't know about Al. "We'd first have to pick up Rufus and some clothes, and–––"she wrinkled her nose, "–––and you need a shower."

Shortly after Sam and Holly left Hank's shop, just before Hank was ready to close for the day, another man walked in. Hank recognized him immediately as the man who had sold him the ring that he had turned around and sold Jack at cost. There was something unpleasant about the man, but Hank was a businessman first, and set aside the uneasy feeling his customer stirred. "Hello again, Mr., uh, Jones, was it? What can I do for you today?"

"I want the ring back," said the unpleasant Mr. Jones.

How coincidental, Hank thought. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, but I sold it already."

"I want it back," said Mr. Jones.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, I don't have it any more. I sold it to my brother, who lives in Lakewood. I might be able to get it back, but it would cost more than what I paid you for it, and I can't guarantee that I can get it back."

Mr. Jones stared at Hank for a moment, and the unpleasant feeling Hank had grew stronger. Hank breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Jones turned on his heel and left the store.

Sam was frustrated. Instead of making things better, he'd just made them worse. Instead of just Jack being killed–––or Sam, as the case now was–––it was Jack and Holly. And Rufus, too. He had no idea how he was supposed to stop their deaths when nothing he tried seemed to work. In all his leaps, there had always been a way to fix things. There had to be a way now.

Somehow, the ring was the key. If he could just figure out what lock the ring was supposed to open, he'd change history and leap.

He told Holly that there was still a danger, and she seemed remarkably calm about it. One thing she did insist on, however, was that they pick up Rufus. Whatever their fate, it would be shared by all three.

Sam pulled up to Jack's house and instructed Holly to wait in the car with the doors locked while he went inside to get Rufus and a change of clothes. He av oided the shower, figuring he could take one at whatever hotel they decided to stay at instead. Then they went to Holly's so that she could grab a change of clothes, and that's when it hit him.

The ring!

Holly was getting impressions from the ring! Maybe those impressions were the lock that the ring opened. Instead of running from their fate, maybe they needed to face it head-on, open the door using the ring as their passkey.

It would not be easy, though. The first time Holly had touched the ring, even for just an instant, she had dropped it in sheer terror. If Sam were superstitious, he would agree with Al that the ring was cursed. But Sam suspected that the ring had been worn either by someone who had done something horrible, or who had experienced something horrible, and somehow, some of the energy from that time had transferred to the ring, and Holly was psychometrically picking that up.

He waited until she finished packing and started down the stairway. He went up the stairs and took her bag from her to carry it down. "Holly," he said, "I think I know how to avert the danger."

"How?" she asked, rubbing Rufus' head and getting a slobbered hand in return.

"I think...if you hold the ring, you can pick up information that will help us."

She looked at him and shook her head.

"Please, Holly, you have to try."

"I'll...go crazy again."

"You're not going crazy. What you have...is a gift. If you don't use it, there's a very good chance that you'll lose Jack. I'll be right here with you, I promise."

"I don't know what to do."

"All you have to do," Sam told her, guiding her to the couch, "is hold the ring, and tell me what you see or feel."

Al popped in and looked at Sam incredulously. "Sam, what are you doing? You've only got fifteen minutes. You have to get the Hell out of here!"

Sam ignored him. He sat beside Holly and held both her hands in one of his as he reached into the pocket of his trousers for the ring box with the other hand. He put the box into her hands and asked, "What do you feel?"

"Home," she said, almost crying. "I want to go home. It's so sad..."

Sam realized that she was picking up impressions from him rather than the ring, and he took his hands away from hers. "Take the ring out of the box, Holly, and tell me what you feel."

Almost hypnotically, Holly opened the box and started to take out the ring. As her fingers pinched the stone, however, she gave a cry and dropped the box, ring and all. "No!" she screamed.

Sam retrieved the box. "What is it?"

"It was...something horrible, evil...I don't know..."

"Try again," Sam urged. He gave her the box again. "It's just a ring. It can't hurt you. But it can tell you what happened."

She took a shaky breath and pinched the stone with two fingers. Her breathing quickened. "Blood," she said. "Blood everywhere. Blood on the ring." She let go of the stone. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Sam said encouragingly. "Try again."

"God, I hope you're right about this," Al said, checking the hand-link. "According to the coroner's report, you've got about ten minutes left."

Holly pinched the ring one more time, and her face twisted into a grimace. "He's angry. So angry. He's killing her. He wants the ring back. He's...he's cutting off her finger..."

"Who is he, Holly?" Sam asked.

"Jones...Jonas. His name is Jonas."

"Jonas. What's his last name?"

"I'm not...Oh, God, there's so much blood..."

"I need a last name, Holly. What's his last name?"

"Jonas...Smith. Jonas Smith."

Al punched in information and checked his hand-link. "Jonas Smith of Red Rock, Illinois, was wanted for questioning in the murder of his girlfriend, one Alicia Wilkins, who was killed in her apartment on Valentine's Day, about three months ago, your time. She was...God, she was stabbed fifty-eight times, and the fourth finger of her left hand was cut off. He disappeared and was never seen again."

"What does he look like, Holly?"

"He's..." She dropped the ring and opened her eyes. "Get me a piece of paper," she said. "And a pencil."

Outside Jack's house, Jonas Smith–––aka, "Mr. Jones"–––was staring at the door. He had found the address in the phone book, but no one was home. Jack's next door neighbor saw him as he left the house to the right of Jack's to walk his dog. There was no thought that the visitor might be sinister. This was Lakewood, after all. "Hey, if you're looking for Jack," the neighbor said by way of greeting, "I saw him headed over toward his girlfriend's." Jonas Smith looked at the neighbor, and followed the neighbor's nod with eyes. Saying nothing, he turned and headed for Holly's house.

"Huh," said the neighbor to his dog. "Not even a 'thank you.' What is this world coming to?"

While Holly was drawing a picture of the man whose image she saw by touching the ring, Al was popping in and out, here and there, keeping guard over Sam and Holly. He popped outside and saw the man approaching Holly's house from the direction of Jack's house. He popped back to Holly's living room.

"Hey, Sam, there's somebody coming," he warned. He looked over Sam's shoulder at the picture Holly was drawing and his eyes got big. "That's him! That's the guy who's on his way over here!"

Sam glanced at him, then grabbed Holly's arm so quickly that she dropped her drawing pencil. "We have to go now," he told her, pulling her to her feet.

"Go where?" Holly asked, suddenly afraid.

"Not outside," Al shouted, waving his arms. "The only way out is past the guy who's trying to kill you."

"Upstairs," Sam said, trying to pull her with him. Holly moved as fast as she could, but still not all that quickly, for all that. Rufus sensed somebody approaching the door and began to growl.

"We can't leave Rufus," Holly declared, starting to turn back around.

Sam jerked her back towards the top. "Here, Rufus," he said, and Rufus abandoned the door to bound up beside them.

"The bedroom!" Al declared. "According to the police report, he doesn't get either of you in the bedroom, but downstairs in the living room."

"Stay in the bedroom," Sam told her, opening the door to let Holly and the dog inside. "Keep Rufus quiet. Lock the door." He shut the door and turned to Al. "I need a weapon."

"Knives in the kitchen. The only other possible weapons I see are all these knickknacks," Al replied.

Sam hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. He found a butcher knife just as Jonas Smith forced Holly's flimsy front door lock open, and Sam froze as still as death. Al spoke into his hand-link to be centered on the intruder. "He's armed, Sam. He's got a switch-blade, and it looks really sharp!"

Sam waited. With a hologram on his side, he would know Jonas Smith's every move, and Sam wanted the additional advantage of surprise. Hopefully, Smith would check out the entire first floor before going upstairs, and when he rounded the corner into the kitchen, Sam had a power-kick waiting for him.

Just then there was a scratch and thump! from upstairs as Rufus clawed impatiently at the door and Holly tried to hold him back.

"He's headed upstairs, Sam!" Al called.

So much for the element of surprise. Sam bolted around the corner and up the stairs. Jonas Smith turned at the top of the stairs. On the higher ground, Smith had the advantage, and Sam's power-kick was impossible. Smith could kick, though, and Sam's butcher knife went flying out of his hand and clattered to the floor below.

"Watch out, Sam!" Al called.

Smith sliced with his knife towards Sam, and Sam sucked in his stomach. Smith followed the slice with another kick, and Sam lost his footing and tried to grab the hand-rail for support. Sam had no weapon whatsoever now, except for words, and he used them. "I know who you are, Jonas Smith!" he yelled. "You killed Alicia Wilkins on Valentine's Day!"

Smith was stunned into immobility, but only momentarily, just long enough for Sam to regain his feet. "I don't know how you know that," Smith said, "but those will be your last words." Smith lashed out again with his foot. Sam tried to catch the foot, but Smith anticipated him and slashed with the switchblade. Sam backed off just in time.

Al was frantic. Sam was in trouble, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help him. Then he turned around and saw the bedroom door opening a crack, and he had an idea. "Rufus!" he yelled. "Sic 'im, Rufus! Sic the bad guy!" He pointed to Smith. Rufus seemed confused. Al thought fast. If Rufus wanted to sic Al instead of the bad guy, that was fine, too. Al moved so that he was superimposed over Smith. "Come on, Rufus! Here, Rufus! Sic! Sic! Sic!"

Rufus broke free of Holly's grasp and bounded down the stairs. He collided into Smith, who had been unprepared for an attack from the rear, and fell forward. Sam helped Smith's fall by using his legs to trap Smith's weighted leg, and then twisting to throw him off balance. As Smith fell down the stairs past him, Sam now had the advantage of the higher ground. Sam pulled himself up with the guard rail and lashed out with his foot, and Smith collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious. Sam kicked the switchblade away, and stood ready to deliver another kick, but there was no need.

"Get some rope!" he yelled to Holly, who had . She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with some mailing twine. Sam bound the unconscious man's hands behind him, then his feet, then his legs, cutting the twine with the butcher knife. He didn't want to lose Smith's fingerprints on the switchblade. Then he put the butcher knife back in the kitchen and told Holly to call the police. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Al. "Is it over?"

Al looked at the read-out from the hand-link. "Yup. You did it, Sam. You saved Jack and Holly. They get married and have two kids, neither of whom shows any signs of psychometry. And Ziggy says that there's a seventy-eight percent chance that if all this hadn't happened right here in Holly's living room, that she wouldn't have believed what you told her about her gift. But now, Holly ends up using her gift to help the police solve a number of crimes, and---oh my God." His expression turned to amazement.

"What is it, Al?"

Al waved his cigar. "Her gift ends up saving the ten year old daughter of general Tom Wray, who was kidnapped in 1989 by a serial---never mind."

"Tom Wray...that name seems familiar."

"No wonder your brain is so swiss-cheesed, the way you keep changing history. I'm feeling a little muenstered, myself. General Wray is one of the Pentagon's main supporters of Project Quantum Leap. It seems that after Holly found his daughter, General Wray went to her home to thank her and saw the painting, the one she made of you. And she told him the story of how a disembodied psychic traveler named Sam Beckett helped her realize her gifts. And when Project Quantum Leap came up for funding, and he met you, Sam, he recognized your face from the painting and your name from Holly's story of how she discovered her gifts, and...and he's---" Al had to hit the hand-link to get Ziggy to finish the read-out. "He's in the control room right now, with Gooshie, and he's been there throughout this whole leap, monitoring it. Sam! You not only saved Holly and Jack, you also saved the General's daughter, and Project Quantum Leap! And...it's going to take some time, Sam, but the General's promised to get us the additional funding Dr. Fuller needs to upgrade Ziggy and install the retrieval program that will bring you home."

"Dr. Fuller..." Sam said the name slowly, Then a hole in his memory began to fill up, and he remembered her full name. "Dr...Sa...mantha Jo Fuller..."

"Sammy Jo Fuller. You remember her?"

"Sammy Jo..." Suddenly, the cheese was back, and the gap was filled. Changing time-streams usually took precious memories away, but every now and then, it brought one back. "Sammy Jo! My d–––"

Al nodded. "Your daughter, Sam." The daughter he had fathered on one of his leaps. Al wondered if Sam also remembered his wife, Donna, who married Sam only because of how her history had changed in one of his leaps.

Sam's heart welled. He was going to go home. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday, one of his leaps would bring him back home. Someday. There was hope.

He looked at Holly, the woman who had given him that hope. He was going to leap again, any second, but there was one thing he wanted to do before he left. "Holly, do you think Jack would mind if I kissed you?"

Holly looked at him and smiled. "I don't know about Jack," she replied, "but I would mind if you didn't."

Al looked away from the mushy stuff, at the hand-link for lack of anything better. Sometimes he envied Sam and the way he got to kiss all the women while conveniently being able to forget the fact that he was married. Hell, if he didn't kiss the women now and then, he couldn't leap. But this was not one of those times when Al envied Sam. Some men liked large women, but not Al. He liked skinny women. Skinny women with large kahoonas. Like Beth's.

Then new information appeared on the hand-link, causing Al's eyebrows to raise. "Hey, Sam, get this. Before Jack and Holly get married, she goes on a diet and loses, like, a hundred pounds. It seems her eating problem was related to the emotional stress of getting all these psychic impressions without knowing where they came from. And in two years, she quits her job at the library and becomes a model–––well, not a super model, but a model–––and...Wow. She's really beautiful, Sam. Wow!"

Sam and Holly's kiss evolved to an embrace. Sam ignored Al's prattle. Sam didn't need the hand-link to see how beautiful Holly was.

Al was looking back and forth between the image on the hand-link and the woman whose life Sam had touched when the hologram of Holly's living room dissolved away to the bare blue walls of the imaging chamber, indicating that Sam had leapt.