Disclaimer: Not mine, and never will be.
Reviewers: Ta muchly, as ever :) Here, have a double chocolate chip cookie!!!
Regards my portrayal of Gooshie (and Tina), the reason I started making them active participants in the story was because I always planned to have this fic half-PQL/half-SGC, and if I'd stuck with just Jack and Al at PQL there'd be a lot less variety than in the SGC with Sam & Co... Gooshie and Tina were ideal choices to balance the numbers, but of course that does mean using characters that I know very little about. I can only remember seeing Gooshie in are the first episode, the last, and a couple in between – that's it, and he didn't get much screen time even then (shame)! And I saw even less of Tina... I'm sure there's more about them in the books, but I've never read a single one, so what we're left with is me filling in my self-imposed blanks. With any luck it won't be too much of a gamble :)
NB. I have never ever been to Colorado Springs so I don't know my way around there, and have never bought a pint of milk in the US... so if the price and/or place are wrong, sorry...
P.S. Anyone reading this in the UK? There was a programme called 'Holiday Showdown' on ITV1 last night (Thurs 14 Oct 04), starring my crazy aunt and uncle as the 'posh' southerners... very funny cos the only thing posh about them is their accents. Anyway, Fiona (of the lunatic laugh and 'Wild Thing' karaoke) will be on 'Harry Hill Live' next week as well – that woman needs an agent! I love her to bits and can't wait to see it, but it's such a relief to have a different surname :)
Colorado Springs – 20th September 1998
Sam Beckett's POV
The dark green Ford truck meandered through the suburbs of Colorado Springs somewhat aimlessly. It changed lanes for no apparent reason, passed the same row of shops no less than three times, and even hesitated at an intersection when the light was green – which earned the driver a few hoots from the impatient BMW behind. There was no sign that he was drunk or dangerous though, since the truck stayed on or near the speed limit at all times – but he did seem to be lost.
Eventually the truck pulled up at the row of shops and a man with greying hair and an Air Force uniform stepped out carefully, propping himself up with a pair of crutches. He put the keys in his pocket and fished out a wallet, stared at his licence, then took a deep breath and walked into the convenience store – wincing with every step.
"Lost?"
The driver, who was now looking deep into the milk fridge, turned his head sharply and banged his head on the cold door. Laughing, he reached back into the fridge and grabbed a pint of skimmed milk. He put it on the counter and shared a smile with the owner, an elderly gent who was probably due for retirement but seemed very at ease in his environment. It wasn't a 7-Eleven or any other chain store, just a little mom-and-pop venture that made Sam feel at ease.
"Lost in more ways than one by the look of it," he grinned, happy to be unknown and free of the need to 'be' Jack O'Neill. This guy didn't know him from a bar of soap, and after the day he'd had that was a welcome relief. "How much is that?"
"40 cents," the old fella replied. "Here, have a lollypop."
"A lollypop?" Sam was momentarily confused, then remembered his crutches. "Oh, for these?"
The shop owner chuckled, holding out the jar of Chupa-Chups. "Yeh, I give one to all the kids when they come in injured."
Sam couldn't help but laugh with him as he laid the money on the counter and picked out a cola flavoured lolly. "Yeh, well... an injury through one's own stupidity shouldn't be rewarded, and I'm not exactly a kid these days – but thank you kindly."
"You're younger'n me, and that's all the counts," came the reply. "Bert's the name. Now, where're you headed, son?"
"1099 Westfield Drive – can you give me directions? I'd be really grateful if you could, Bert. I'm... um... Jack, by the way."
Bert exploded into a fit of laughter. "Westfield Drive? Over Broadmoor way?"
"Erm... yeh?"
"Hell, no wonder you've been going in circles! I guess you flyboys are all too far up in the clouds to look at normal maps, right?" Bert wheezed and stopped to catch his breath. "Oh dear... now, Westfield Drive. If you head down to the junction by the Coca-Cola sign there, take a left and head out for about 10 miles –"
"10 miles?" Sam exclaimed. "I was a long way off wasn't I? Ok, then where?"
"Take a right at the Wal-Mart... and then... aw hell, it's been forever since I was out that way. Let me get a map out." The old-timer lent beneath the counter and pulled out a raggedy old map, flicking to the rear index then locating the page for Sam. "I hope this isn't too out of date... see here? That's where the Wal-Mart is, and here –" he pointed, "– is Westfield Drive."
"Can I borrow that a moment?" Sam asked, keen to memorise the map as best he could.
The last half-hour had been quite embarrassing, driving around in Jack's truck trying to find 'home'. At least Carter was giving all three men a lift this evening, having decided to stay at the base a while longer and planning to head in there early the next morning... no alcohol for her tonight. Of course, getting a lift from Jack's house involved finding it in the first place, Sam reminded himself. That and it would be nice to have time for a shower before the next round of play-acting...
"If you're having trouble with directions, I should be able to help you out," a long-awaited voice said, with an extremely happy undertone.
"Al!" Sam cried out, earning him a strange look from Bert. "I mean, I'll be able to get there in no time now – thanks for the directions, and the lollypop!"
"Any time," the other man replied, raising his eyebrow as his strange customer stuffed the milk and candy in his pockets and made his way out of the shop.
Sam moved as quickly as a person with very little experience of crutches could, wincing now and then. His initial elation at finally seeing Al had been replaced by resentment that it had taken him so long.
"Where have you been?!" he whispered angrily, bleeping the truck's central locking open.
"What the hell happened to you?" Al returned, indicating the crutches.
Sam glared at him and climbed into the truck, started the engine and put it into 'drive'; thankful yet again that it was an automatic. If it hadn't been Daniel would have won the argument and driven him home himself, making it that much harder if Al turned up while he was on the surface. Sam was still pissed that it had taken his friend so long to appear though, especially after his frustrating 30 minutes of complete disorientation. He should have guessed that a man's man like Jack O'Neill wouldn't carry something useful like a road map in the glove compartment!
Outside the truck, Al sighed heavily and pressed a few buttons on his hand link. He disappeared and reappeared as if seated in the passenger seat, the hologram image moving at the same speed as the truck.
"Ok, Sam – I'm sorry. We had a little trouble back at the ranch. That and young Jack here is a bit of a handful," Al apologised. "Ziggy had a lot of trouble getting to Gooshie to you earlier as well."
Sam's suspicions were confirmed, but he found it hard to let go of his frustration so quickly. "I've been on the surface for over half an hour now Al, as well as 24 hours without a clue of what I'm meant to be doing."
"Right," his friend admitted, frowning at his handset as he prodded a few more buttons. "Ziggy! Make sure we don't make a wrong turn, ok?"
"No need, Al," Sam growled softly, tapping his head. "I've already got the directions up here, remember? From the old guy at the shop?"
Al sounded a little pissy himself. "Slow up there, Colonel, or I'll start thinking you're picking up more Jack vibes than necessary."
"What do you mean?"
"I spent the first couple of hours of this morning being held hostage with a piece of glass, that's what I mean," he vented. "So we had a lockdown, as per procedure, which drew in the vultures from the Capitol – trying to pull out our funding and leave you stranded, once again – and Ziggy's all in a tizz because she can't get any info on this Leap other than by pumping Jack... who is also having trouble with the whole deal, by the way."
Sam glanced over at his friend and saw the stress in his eyes. Al was telling the truth. This Leap was obviously taking it out of everyone involved, not just him. "So we've both had a long day?"
"Too right..."
They came up to a red light and Sam braked smoothly. "How close to the present am I?" He asked, something that had been gnawing at him since he'd seen the level of technology at the base.
"Would you believe 5 days?" Al replied, a wry chuckle in his voice. "It's not like we don't have access to current databases, but you're... um... present assignment... is just a little bit classified."
"Tell me about it," Sam agreed, finally sharing a smile with his old friend. The light turned green and they pulled away. He sighed ruefully, realising that despite being so close to his real home he wasn't likely to get any closer – at least not during this Leap. "I just hope it's a short one, because I've been flying blind and it's only going to get harder."
Al looked alarmed. "What do you mean? Could they catch you out?"
"That too – did you get the message I wrote for Gooshie?"
"Yeh?"
"Well I got rid of it in a hurry and Daniel – that's Dr Jackson – found it. Now there's a squad of Marines searching high and low for the owner of the handwriting, plus all the lovely fingerprints I left in his office."
"Jeez..." Al paled. "Your prints and everything are on record, Sam. It might take them a while, but they'll find out you were there – but still, as far as they're concerned you're Jack O'Neill, right?"
"For now," Sam admitted, thinking about some of the strange looks he'd received from Daniel, Carter and Teal'c during the day. "But his team mates are pretty switched on – I think they know that something's up. So far I've got them believing that my little tumble last night has shaken me up, and thankfully the General has stood us down for a few days."
"Wait a minute, what did happen with your leg? Did you twist your ankle or something?"
"Yeh – when I Leaped in I was running down a ramp and wasn't ready for it. I literally fell head over heels, nearly gave myself a concussion too. I've been in a wheelchair for most of today." Sam shook his head at the memory, then saw the big Wal-Mart and turned right. "How far is the house from here, Al?"
The handset bleeped. "Four blocks. Jack says it's a brown house with a brick walkway leading up to a landing, and there's large driveway on one side."
"That could be any of these houses, Al..."
They sat in silence for a moment, focussing on house numbers. Sam thought about what Al had said about their problems with Jack and Ziggy's inability to access useful information, then wondered if Al knew about the Stargate and everything that came with it yet. He didn't want to launch into that discussion while keeping an eye out for Jack's house though, else he'd end up back at the shop with Bert... Then again, if Jack was talking to Ziggy there was obviously more that had happened back at Project Quantum Leap than Al had told him so far, right?
Finally they drove past house 1081 and Sam slowed down to a crawl, eventually turning into the drive of a normal looking suburban home.
"Where's the field artillery, Jack?" Al called out, laughing. Sam shot him a look, which was returned with a shrug. "What? The guy used to be black ops, Sam – I wasn't expecting a picket fence type house, y'know?"
"Black ops means that you don't notice them, Al," he pointed out. "They're supposed to blend into the background, remember?" He was uneasy that his friend seemed to be on good terms with this guy, who had apparently held him captive using a makeshift weapon only a few hours ago.
Picking up his crutches, Sam opened the door and lowered himself onto the ground. He slammed the door shut, locked it, and wobbled his way up the pathway, up the extremely inconvenient steps, and finally reached the entrance to the house. Al, meanwhile, decided to walk straight through the walls and gave himself a tour of Jack's home.
"Nice house," he commented, surprising Sam no end by poking his head back through the door as he was fumbling with the keys.
"Is there an alarm?" Sam asked pointedly, finally locating the right key.
The handset bleeped. "Yep – code is 5432. Hey Jack, that's lame!"
Sam opened the door and shook his head, propping himself up on the wall as he turned off the burglar alarm. "Could you quiet down the friendly chitchat for a moment and tell me where the living room is please?"
"Oh, oh sure Sam – turn left and down... a step," Al replied, sympathetically. "Most other rooms seem to be on this level though, including the kitchen and bathroom."
"Hmm... I guess I'll be heading to the kitchen then," he decided, not too keen on trying out steps in a downward direction after having only just mastered upward movement.
A few moments later they were both in the kitchen, Sam sat at a small breakfast table, gazing through to the dining room and out into the garden. It was early evening, but there was still enough light to see the barbecue area. Sam pulled the pint of milk from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and drank deeply.
"Are you good? Good," Al commented. "Now shall we talk about why you're here?"
Down to business... Sam reminded himself wryly. "Yeh sure, but I should warn you that Captain Carter – whose name is also 'Sam' by the way, which is very confusing – is picking me up in a half hour to go to the movie theatre. I really need to have a shower before she gets here."
"A date? Already?" Al's eyes nearly boggled out of his head. "I've seen her photo – she's a hot one."
Sam laughed and shook his head. Al never changed. "Don't be stupid – she's Jack's 2IC! Besides, Daniel and Teal'c are coming too."
"Tee-uk?"
"Ah, so you don't know everything yet?" Sam's heart fell. It looked as though he was going to be here a long time, because if all they had to go on was his sketchy understanding of the SGC –
"We know some of it, but Jack's not letting us in on anything he doesn't have to," Al stated, and Sam's heart lifted a little. "So far he's told us about... um..."
"The Stargate?"
"Yeh," Al shuddered a little. "And the... er... Gould..."
"Actually I think it's Go-ah-ould, Al, but I've been trying to pronounce it like Jack."
"Uh-huh. Ok, well apart from that we have a bunch of confused people in the Control Room and one very confused Admiral in here because time travel is one thing and aliens is completely another!"
Sam cocked his head and looked at Al, who had now plucked a cigar from somewhere within his jacket and was chewing on the end absently. It looked like Ziggy was sticking by her no-smoking ban. He fought the urge to laugh, then decided that now wasn't the time.
"Al, this is a truly amazing Leap – you have to believe me. The things these people are working with every day... it's almost... unimaginable! I went into Carter's lab and saw what I thought were her own wormhole theories, but it wasn't. Not exactly. Al, she's trying to reverse-engineer something that she already knows works!" Sam couldn't help it, the enthusiasm was now streaming from every pore in his body and he desperately wanted Al to share in his joy. "These Ancients built the most incredible technology, and the Stargate – oh my God... you have to see it Al. Human beings, travelling all over the galaxy in an instant. Through controlled wormholes! That you can dial up, like a telephone! It's... fantastic!"
He stopped himself and took a deep breath, unable to wipe the smile from his face.
"I haven't been through it yet myself, but tomorrow morning..." Suddenly Sam sobered up, remembering his earlier worries about the assignment he and Teal'c had been given. "Al, they have me down for a very minor trip by their standards – to their training facility, what they call the Alpha site – but it's tomorrow morning. I'm going to another planet tomorrow morning at 8am!"
"What?" Al's voice was panicked, and he suddenly began pressing buttons on the hand link.
"Yeh, I know – it's great, it's brilliant – but I don't know whether you'll be able to visit me there. I mean the time thing isn't a problem, but interplanetary? Ziggy couldn't make it work in a million years."
"Ziggy agrees..." Al sounded dejected and totally hostile to the idea. Why? "Sam, you have to find a way to not go on that mission – who knows what could happen? What about your ankle, you could use that as an excuse!"
"What do you mean, Al? I have to go – if only for the experience – and the General's made it clear that he doesn't care two hoots whether I'm injured or not. No, that came out wrong – he's a good guy, what he meant was that the state of my ankle makes no difference to my – or rather, Jack's – ability to complete this assignment."
There was no way that Al was going to talk him out of this one, oh no. Not the chance to travel through a wormhole, to go to another planet. This was his Leap, and he was going to make the most of it...
"Sam," Al yelled warningly. "Jack's death was reported to the White House this morning, and without any other information we have to assume that that's why you're here! We can't afford to have you out of contact."
For a moment, Sam's resolve wavered. But just for a moment. "No."
Al did a double take. "What do you mean no?"
Sam's gaze grew hard. "I'm not going to let you stand in the way of this. For all we know Jack's death could have taken place after he got back from the Alpha site – it's only a 2-day mission after all. If I'm 5 days behind you, there's enough time for it to be something other than this training assignment – we should stick with whatever Jack's supposed to be doing until we know otherwise."
"What?"
"I said –"Sam began to repeat his tirade.
"No, not you – Jack's saying something."
Al was obviously listening to a voice from the Control Room and Sam quashed a feeling of resentment. Maybe his Leapee was agreeing with him.
"Jack wants to know what you're meant to be doing on the Alpha site – he knew that SG1 were going to be stood down for a few days, but that mission wasn't on the cards before," Al paused. "Sam, maybe your injury changed things already! But wait, according to Ziggy, Jack still dies..."
"Al, you can tell Jack that it's nothing to do with me tripping down the ramp. Two of the other SG teams were attacked by Yu's Jaffa, so General Hammond wants to accelerate the new recruits' training by bringing him and Teal'c in for a couple of days," Sam explained hurriedly. "We just happened to be... in the area!"
His friend looked confused, but seemed to be listening to another reply from beyond the Imaging Chamber. "Jack says good luck with the baby sitting, and let Teal'c do the hard work. It makes sense, you don't have any direct experience of these Gould yourself... say, what the hell is a Jaffa anyway – that's the second time you've mentioned them."
"Uh... they're like humans, only they're not," Sam replied, trying to figure out a good way to put this. "The Goa'uld use them as incubators for their larvae, until they're big and bad enough to be able to er..."
"Body snatch?"
"Yeh, that's about it. Anyway, these Jaffa get extra strength and healing from these symbiotes in return, so they're also the Goa'uld's soldiers – although there are some rebels, like Teal'c for instance."
Al blinked rapidly. "Wait a second, you're saying that there's a real live alien wandering around Colorado?"
"Uh-huh, but apparently they call him 'Murray' when he's on the surface." Sam glanced at the clock and blinked, suddenly realising the time. He made as if to stand up – bad idea. He fell back on the chair wincing in excruciating pain. "Oh boy... Dr Fraiser is going to hate me in the morning... Ouch... Where did you say the bathroom was, Al? I need a shower before the guys get here – and a change of clothes. There is no way I'm going to the movies and O'Malleys, wherever that is, dressed like this. Though I do wish I'd brought the wheelchair in the truck now."
"Um... through there," Al pointed, but Sam didn't move. The hologram's eyes had glazed over.
"Al?" He waved. "Al?"
"Huh?" His friend almost jumped.
Sam grinned. "Just hit you has it – the reality of all this extraterrestrial stuff?"
"Yeh... I mean, I knew space was big and all around us... I've seen a bit of it myself... but this isn't quite the same, y'know?"
"I know," Sam nodded, then asked something he was extremely confused by. "One question though: if Jack held you hostage this morning, what on earth is he doing in the Control Room now?"
Al had the grace to blush a little. "Long story... this morning was a normal reaction for someone with his training really, and eventually we... er... managed to resolve our differences. But by that time Senator Kinsey of the vulture brigade was on his way, so we did a deal with Jack. He would convince Kinsey that we'd finally picked up someone 'important' – by his standards – and in return we would, erm... let him out of the Waiting Room. As a bonus he's also helping us with our little intelligence failure on this one, since he wants to get out of there just as much as you do Sam."
"If you say so, Al," Sam replied, not so sure himself. "I'd love the chance to stay here and study the Stargate – it'd be almost as good as developing the quantum leap accelerator was." He caught a glare from Al and shrugged. "I'm a quantum physicist, Al – what do you want me to say? That I want to run away from the most advanced piece of technology on this planet? And the things that Daniel's studying? My God, Al – that's mind-blowing enough all by itself. The poor guy knows that archaeologists the world over are theorising in totally the wrong direction and he can't tell anyone about it!"
"Hmph." Al didn't appear to be quite so understanding of the fact that this Leap had captured Sam's heart.
Sam tapped his fingers on the breakfast table, knowing that Al was first and foremost a military man, and secondly man in charge of a scientific facility. Being his friend came somewhere in all of that, but above all was his sense of duty – particularly when it came to Sam. He was grateful for it, particularly when he heard about the troubles they occasionally had back at the Project, but sometimes he just wished for a strings-free Leap... especially if it was one like this!
"Who do Jack pretend to be for our favourite Senator then?" He asked, diverting the conversation just a little.
Al snorted. "Himself, a couple of years back – can you believe it? Turns out Jack was a big part of how this SGC place came together, so it was only a short jump to convincing Kinsey the purse-pincher that if Jack's life had never led him through a Stargate... well, the SGC might not be there."
"Really?" Sam was incredulous. "He's got it in for them hasn't he? Though I can certainly believe it – that place has got to cost upwards of $5 billion a year!"
"$7.3 billion at last count..." Al murmured, a small smile on his face. "The guy lapped it right up and went on his way."
"Hmph – sounds about right," Sam commented. He had never met this Kinsey guy himself, but he did remember his predecessor Senator Weitzman. It always seemed to be power-mad politicians who tweaked the moneybags, thinking more about their own prestige than the overall benefits of this sort of work.
Sam glanced back at Al slowly and fixed him in his gaze. "I'm still going to go tomorrow – you do realise that, don't you? There's no way you're going to like it, I know – but you can't stop me. Besides," he pointed out, thinking of a more reasonable excuse than 'because it's there'. "– if I stay at the SGC much longer I'll put myself in greater danger of being found out, especially if they start making people do handwriting tests or taking new prints."
"They wouldn't do that!" Al mocked lightly, worriedly. "They already have Jack's files!"
Sam shook his head. "They know that, but they are also extremely paranoid about everything. This is a base that understands about body-snatching aliens, invisible aliens, rogue sections of their own government... it's only a matter of time before some sort of testing becomes mandatory on this case, especially if they recognise my prints."
A thought struck him from the blue.
"Hey, no-one's been asking about my whereabouts in the last few days have they? I am still listed as being a Navy employee at Stallions Gate, aren't I?"
"Yeh, and you're getting paid for it," Al grimaced. "Another drain on our budget... only 50 salary though, since you're not actually there. Should be a nice little nest egg by the time you get back either way. But no, no one's been asking after you. Maybe it will clear up by itself then!"
"...and maybe it won't," Sam reminded him gently. "Either I or Jack could get killed just as easily while locked up someplace as off-world, don't you think? On a base like that?"
Al screwed his face up, the cigar pointing downwards as his bit down hard on it. "You might be right, but there's no point in taking unnecessary risks and I can at least keep track of you while you're on Earth. These aliens give me the willies too."
"Yeh, well you haven't met one yet – and Teal'c seems like a nice enough guy... if hard to read. Apparently he loves Star Wars, can you imagine that?" Sam chuckled. "That's what we're seeing tonight: Return of the Jedi."
"Great... cute teddy-bear aliens and a big explosion." Al joked sarcastically, then cocked his head to one side as he listened to the Control Room again. "Jack says the Darth Vader does a pretty good impression of a Gould – sorry, Sam – Goa'uld's voice."
"Really?" Sam considered this. "I wonder if George Lucas knows something. But anyway, there aren't any Goa'uld at the Alpha site... and the only scary alien there will be Teal'c if he decides to go ahead with his shock tactics and fire his staff weapon at the students."
"O... K...," Al replied, a nervous look in his eyes. "Well you go ahead and have that shower, Sam – you can't have much time left, right? I'll head back and see what else we can come up with, but either way I'll visit you again later. May as well make the most of it while you're still on the surface of this planet... Jeez that's weird to say..."
Sam nodded, remembering the blur that had been Gooshie earlier on. "Definitely. I'll keep play-acting Jack, but hopefully between the cinema and this O'Malleys place I shouldn't have too much trouble. Dark and noisy, an excellent camouflage don't you think?"
"Yeh, whatever you say Sam – just keep out of trouble, and watch that ankle of yours ok?" The shining light of the Imaging Chamber door slid open behind the other man.
"Sure thing, Al. Say hi to the team for me – and see you later." Sam grinned nervously as the door closed, remembering exactly how little they knew about this Leap and how much potential danger he was in this time. It was at least as bad as that Leap to Vietnam... if not worse.
He reached round the chair for his crutches and began to pull himself up slowly, then found his pants caught on the chair somehow. What?
Sam looked down – he couldn't see any splinters or nails, but it was going to take some serious jiggling to release a hand to feel around for whatever was trapping his pants. He leant back on the table awkwardly, trying to prop the other side of his body up with one crutch while keeping his bad ankle off the ground, his free hand searching for the offending bit of chair.
"Got it!" He mumbled victoriously, finally feeling the patch that was caught... on... what was that?
Then it struck him – it must have fallen out when he pulled the milk bottle from his pocket and somehow fallen on his seat... a warm and sticky Chupa-Chup.