The director is a nut bar. Nothing makes sense in Hollywood anymore.

- Face, "Mexican Slayride"


Mary: What else did I do while you were unconscious?

Sam: Ahhh . . . well . . . you got angry at me and made a skull fly across the room. Course, it could have been worse. Could have been kitchen knives.

Stevie: Boy! What a neat idea!

Mary: Hi Mrs. King!

Stevie: Hi Mom!

Sam: Stevie?

Al: King.

Stevie: Hey Cujo!

Sam: Kitchen knives, Christine . . . oh my God, I just gave him . . .

- "The Boogieman"

Chapter 13: Second Chances

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1999

WAITING ROOM

PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP

STALLIONS GATE, NEW MEXICO

4:00AM MOUNTAIN TIME

Dr. Verbena Beeks sipped her coffee as she looked through the one-way glass, which gave her a view of the Waiting Room. She watched Templeton Peck, who had been up and down like a yo-yo, sleeping restlessly throughout the night. When he couldn't sleep, he was usually pacing almost as if trying to make sense of whatever he may have discovered during the brief time that he had been away from the Project and at Sami Jo's house.

After what had taken place with the escape attempt, Admiral Calavicci put a ban on all non-essential personnel from interacting with the Leapee. The last thing the needed, especially with Senator Diane McBride visiting the facility, was another escape attempt. It was bad enough that it happened once already while the Senator was here, and the second time that a Visitor had escaped the complex during their history. They didn't need to have it happen again, and considering how jittery Lieutenant Peck was when it came to being held captive, she wouldn't put it past him to give it another try.

Still, she had a job to do herself in order to make sure that the Visitor would be able to handle any revelations that may be shared with him. Considering how he kept demanding information and sometimes wouldn't even share anything unless he was given some detail in return, it was only a matter of time before certain details were divulged that would affect him psychologically if he wasn't prepared.

Having served in the military, he was likely used to getting up early even many years later. Perhaps she could break the ice and engage him in a conversation through a simple gesture . . .

It only took a few moments, but she soon returned to the Waiting Room with two large styrofoam cups of coffee, one within each hand. She nodded to the guard who stood at the base of the ramp, who immediately turned and inserted a key into a cover. Once he opened that, he pressed a button and the door to the Waiting Room immediately slid open. She walked up the ramp and entered inside, not even pausing as she heard the door close behind her.

The moment that the door slid open with a hiss, Face immediately stopped pacing and turned his attention to his visitor. It wasn't the Admiral, but the African American woman who he had first talked to when he woke up in this strange place. Dr. Beeks . . . Dr. Verbena Beeks was her name, if he recalled correctly. Then again, with what he learned last night at Sami Jo's house, he couldn't be certain of anything anymore.

"Hello, Lieutenant," Verbena greeted him warmly. He still looked a bit confused, even in spite of her presence. That gravely concerned her, since it was a strong indication that he uncover a few details that he wasn't prepared to learn about just yet. For the most part, the less that a Visitor could find out about the future, the better. They honestly had no idea or way of tracking what they remembered from their time in the Waiting Room once they Leaped back. But, with how persistent the Lieutenant was, they'd eventually have to tell him something and it was her job to prepare him for the devastating news. "I thought you might like a cup of coffee."

"Thanks," he said briefly as he grabbed one of the cup. He took a sip of the hot liquid and immediately could taste the rich and bold flavor of the coffee. It wasn't espresso by any means, but it was clear that those that ran this facility weren't afraid to get the good stuff. Whoever these people were, they had good taste. Even though the coffee was outstanding, he had another concern on his mind. "How's Sami Jo? Did she get back okay?"

Inwardly, Verbena was a bit stunned. Considering how he had been so concerned about being imprisoned when he first regained consciousness, it was a very pleasant surprise to hear that he was more worried about someone else other than himself. Perhaps some of the stories about the A-Team members were true with how they would help others who were bullied or were in trouble. That provided some hope, and a possible direction that she could take in order to ensure that he wouldn't be overwhelmed with the news that might eventually be shared with him. The psychologist nodded and explained, "Dr. Fuller is fine. She arrived safely about an hour after you returned to the facility. Sandstorms are rare, but when they do hit this area they aren't as intense at night as they are during the day when the heat from the sun intensifies the winds."

Templeton was inwardly relieved to hear that. He was the one who had wanted to use her car to escape, even though she seemed to be willing to drive him to a location away from the facility. He would have been perfectly fine going on his own . . . although once he figured out where he was, he likely would have been more than half-way to Los Angeles had they not stopped at Sami Jo's house. As he continued to dwell on what happened, and how the brown haired scientist went out of her way to help him, another realization came to the con artist. "She isn't going to lose her job over what happened, will she?"

That almost seemed like the million dollar question right there. She had no way of reading Al's mind to know what he was going to do when it came to Sami Jo. Even she hoped that the Project Administrator would have some amount of leniency for Sam's daughter, since she was still needed to try and correct the Retrieval Program. "It's too early to know what Admiral Calavicci will decide. I know that he will be debriefing her today," she admitted solemnly.

"Could you at least make sure the Admiral knows that it wasn't her fault?" he urged before he took another sip of his coffee. Again he savored the richness of the flavor as the drink not only helped to warm him, but the caffeine helped his alertness. Now if only it could fill in the gaps in his memory, it would be a lot easier to deal with the situation that he was in.

Dr. Beeks nodded and told him warmly, "I'm sure that he is already aware of that, but I can make sure he knows." She took another sip of her coffee as she realized that this was the perfect opportunity to try and get him to open up about what he had found out while at Sami Jo's house. She gracefully moved over to the examination table and sat down upon it. She watched as he did the same before she decided to mention, "I heard that the reason why you wanted to leave yesterday was to make a few phone calls."

"Yeah," Face nodded as he settled into the seated position on the examination table. He took another sip of his coffee before casting his gaze upon her. She wore a bright neon yellow dress, with matching shoes. Her earrings seemed to be small diamonds, but they practically seemed to glow and sparkle with the same yellow as her clothes. The brightness of this contrasted her chocolate skin, and her warm, brown eyes. "I needed to try and get in touch with my friends. They're probably wondering what happened to me."

She nodded slightly, knowing full well that they likely had no idea that the Lieutenant was missing. Of course, they also had no idea that Dr. Samuel Beckett now occupied the aura of the former Special Forces officer. As long as they believed that Sam was Templeton Peck, they hopefully wouldn't notice the difference. "I'm sure that they are fine, and they know that you're safe," she attempted to reassure him.

"That's just the thing," Face started insistently. It was clear that the frustration that he felt at Sami Jo's house was just as vivid now as it was then. "The phone to the van came up disconnected, same for the room my best friend stays at. When I called the nurse's station to check on him, they said that there's nobody there with his name and his doctor had died of a heart attack. And then a former colleague who took an assignment in Jakarta has disappeared too."

He climbed off the examination table and started pacing back and forth again. He took yet another sip of his coffee before he expressed in an exasperated tone, "It makes no sense!"

Inwardly, Verbena frowned upon hearing what had been just revealed. It meant that he discovered a lot more about the future than she had hoped. It was going to make trying to prepare him for the full scope of the truth that much more difficult. She couldn't blame the sandstorm for the calls not going through, especially since it seemed like he had talked to a couple of people. "Are you sure that you dialed the right phone numbers? When we first talked, you mentioned how you had trouble remembering things," she questioned. She knew full well that the Leapee had their memory Swiss cheesed just as much as Sam did, although things did get easier to remember over the course of time.

Face stopped pacing and looked at Dr. Beeks. He initially had no idea why she would even ask that, but then she pointed out how he had problems remembering things. Truthfully, there was still a lot that he couldn't remember His mind still felt like a brutally savaged field that had been heavily shelled . . . with a ton of craters to show for it. "With these phone numbers, I know them as well as I know my own name," he noted with conviction. He may not have been able to remember everything, but there were certain things that he felt 100% for certain about no matter what this facility was doing to him.

Verbena nodded and took a sip from her coffee again. She was going to have to redirect the conversation since it became clear that she couldn't cast a shadow of doubt over the phone calls that had been placed at Sami Jo's house. "Could you tell me more about the people you were trying to contact, Lieutenant?" she asked, hoping that maybe she could get him to open up more.

He looked at her for a moment almost like had two heads. Her question seemed sincere, but how could it be that she had no idea who he was or who his friends were? How could she not know? Had she been living under a rock? "How can I be sure that this isn't going to be a trap for them . . . that you aren't working for the military police?" he accused, still highly suspicious considering the fact that there were uniformed Marines providing security at the facility.

The Psychologist finished her coffee, yet continued to hold the Styrofoam cup in her hands. She didn't want to draw attention to the reflective surface of the examination table in the Waiting Room and have the military fugitive see his reflection. That in itself would have been a major shock to his system that could potentially drive him into a catatonic state. "Lieutenant, if we were the military police, you would have been in handcuffs before you regained consciousness yesterday," she retorted in a very frank tone. "Although you are not under arrest and we have no intention of ever calling the military police, as long as you are here we are responsible for your safety."

He stopped pacing for a moment and took another sip of his coffee while the Doctor's words set in. Deep down, he knew that she was right. In spite of the room that he was kept in and the Marine presence at the facility, they had not made any hostile moves against him. In fact, in spite of what he was wearing and the sparse furniture within the room that he was in, they had almost bent over backwards to see to his needs and comfort and they had been very pleasant toward him.

He made his way back over and sat on the examination table next to her. Even with the situation from yesterday, when he tried to escape, the Admiral that came after him bore a weapon but he kept it concealed within his jacket. He didn't pull it out at all, in spite of how tense the situation had been or even when he had been looking down the barrel of a gun himself. Still, why did this whole situation set off all of his internal alarms? Was it because of how extravagantly elaborate everything seemed to be with where he was being held?

"If I tell you about them, how can I be sure that you aren't going to send the MPs after them?" he questioned, still very unsure about their true intentions. Either way, he needed to be absolutely certain that they wouldn't be sending the guys in olive drab after his friends, much less someone who wanted to seek revenge.

The rhetoric that the Visitor was using was still very much the same as it had been when he had first regained consciousness yesterday, but in other ways it was different. Yesterday the concern was about himself. Today, his worries were concerning his friends . . . and it was clear that it was something that he wasn't going to ease up on unless he could somehow guarantee their safety. Thankfully, he was still oblivious to the fate of his friends. Even now, she doubted that he'd be able to handle the truth.

"Lieutenant . . ." she started to say.

"Face," he pointed out, almost as if it was an afterthought. "My friends call me Face."

Verbena was inwardly surprised again with that simple statement. Even though she had done her research and already discovered his nickname, the fact that he had mentioned it to her when she was trying to remain on a formal level was significant. It meant that either he either he was starting to trust her, or he found his current situation hopeless after being returned to the Project. She really hoped that it was more a matter of trust rather than him losing faith. If he lost hope, then it could send him into a downward spiral of depression that would make it difficult to get critical information from him when they were all working to try and help him and his friends. Still, the fact that he was concerned about them was very promising and it meant that not all hope was lost.

"Face," she began to say. "I can assure you. We have no intention of pursuing your friends, much less doing anything that would cause them any harm or to be arrested. We're not that close to Los Angeles." He still may not believe her words, but one thing was for certain. Al was totally and completely committed to helping the Lieutenant and the A-Team so the tragic events of the past could be averted. Of that, she had absolutely no doubt. She hadn't seen him that passionate about trying to help a Leapee since Sam had Leaped into Jimmy LaMotta.

He looked deep into her brown eyes, almost as if trying to read her very soul. She spoke with conviction when she indicated that they had no interest in trying to go after the A-Team. That meant that she firmly believed what she was saying, and it was very likely true. Being a con artist, he had the uncanny ability to be able to spot other con artists unless they were so good that they even pulled the wool over his own eyes. He wasn't able to discern any deception here.

"And you're sure that you haven't heard about me or my friends before?" he asked her somewhat incredulously. Had she been living under a rock all this time, and not seen TV or read a newspaper? How could it be that she hadn't heard about the A-Team? Then again, she was a doctor type, so it was very possible that she had been totally engrossed in her studies and didn't pay much attention to the news on TV or in the papers.

Dr. Beeks nodded slightly. "I've only heard rumors, not actual news reports and the like. Personally, I would love to learn more directly from you, Face," she informed him. They were on the verge of a breakthrough, and she hoped that getting him to open up and talk about his friends would make things considerably easier. They'd be able to better prepare him for the shock of hearing what his future held for him, and the fact that he was now 13 years in the future.

He looked down at the coffee within his hands and realized that she had a point. It was often better to learn facts directly from the source, rather than hearing about it through another source . . . a source that could be inaccurate, or even embellish the details to where it differed from the truth. It reminded him of the intelligence that they often received in Vietnam and how inaccurate it was, which often led them into situations where they had to be creative in order to accomplish their mission.

The holes in Face's memories seemed just as black as the coffee within the styrofoam cup that he held within his hands. Just as the level of the coffee decreased within his cup, as time went on the void within his mind was smaller than it had been when he first woke up. Maybe sharing what he knew might help spark some of his missing memories and reduce that void within his mind even further.

"Well . . . first there's Hannibal," Templeton Peck started to say, leading into the explanation that hopefully would be mutually beneficial.


ADMIRAL CALAVICCI'S OFFICE

5:00AM MOUNTAIN TIME

Sami Jo Fuller was deeply unsettled and couldn't sleep. After the events from yesterday, it was hard to blame her. The moment she had returned to the Project, she saw a message from Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci on her terminal. He wanted to meet with her this morning.

Considering that was all he indicated in that message, she found it a bit ominous and she had been worried all night. Even though Lieutenant Templeton Peck had managed to steal the gun belonging to one of the guards, she had been more fascinated by the charming con artist than frightened by him. It was probably that allure for danger and excitement that caused her to put her better judgment aside and help him.

But, in so doing, what kind of damage had she inflicted? It was obvious that Face had managed to receive some news with the phone calls he had placed. Most of it may have been cryptic, which would have mercifully spared him from receiving the devastating news that surrounded the tragic outcome of the A-Team. What exactly did he find out, and how was it going to affect their ability to make some progress with the smooth tongued officer to guarantee they could get the information they needed to help Sam during this Leap?

Not just that, but how was this going to affect her career at the Project? She was still trying to develop a working retrieval program to bring her father home. All of Quantum Leap and what they did here reminded her a lot of Brigadoon. What was it that Mr. Lundie said within the story? "'Cause after all, lad, if ye love someone deeply, anythin' is possible." She believed that to be true, and knew that one day she would be able to come up with the solution to make the retrieval program work flawlessly. Until that time came about, she had to just keep on trying.

But, would she even be allowed to stay and continue her work after what happened? Al was more than just Sam's Observer. He was also the Project Administrator, so he oversaw everything that took place within the entire complex. He could be stern, but he had always been kind of like a second father to her. The Italian took her under his wing, and helped her to flourish . . . yet she had always been fascinated by the stories that Al came back with of how he had helped Sam to correct history, sometimes in a very dramatic way.

Still, if he wanted to suspend her, or outright fire her, he had the full authority to do so. She hoped that wouldn't happen, but it was still a very real possibility. But, if she was terminated from the Project, what would she do? She couldn't move back to Chicago and move in with her mother, Abigail. With her knowledge, she could always take a job at any number of technology companies and write manuals for them even though they would all think she was crazy for taking a job that she was far over-qualified for. But if it was all she could get in order to make a living, she was willing to take it if it came to that. She just inwardly hoped and prayed that it wouldn't, since it was her ultimate goal to correct the retrieval program and make sure that Dr. Samuel Beckett . . . her real father . . . returned home.

One thing was for certain. Whenever Sam Leaped, the core staff at the Project had to adjust their sleep patterns so they would be on the same schedule that the time traveler was. Apparently, there was a 7.5 hour difference between the time that Sam was at in 1986 and their time in 1999. Thanks to his military training, Al was one of the first people to adjust to the schedule change. That may explain why he had asked to meet with her at this time of day, since he probably already checked in with Sam by now.

She came to a stop outside the door to Admiral Calavicci's office. Her eyes briefly gazed down the ribbed hallway, appreciating the blue and pink colors that accented the curvature of the walls. If this was going to be her last day at the Project, she wanted to at least capture and appreciate the beauty of even the most minute detail so she could turn a negative into a positive. She drew in a deep breath to steel herself for what was to come and then knocked on the door.

"Come in," she heard faintly through the metal door. Even though it was just two words spoken, the deadly seriousness of them filled the pit of her stomach with dread.

Her hands were close to shaking as she slowly opened the door. The moment she stepped inside, she could see the Project Administrator sitting at his desk. The shimmering red metallic tie couldn't even offset the dour mood that he seemed to be in. It almost seemed to be fitting that the black shirt with colorful triangles was fairly conservative, even though it seemed to match the somber atmosphere.

"Sit down," he told her curtly. Again, with the tone of the voice that he had used, it was clear that this wasn't a simple request. It was an order.

Obediently, Sami Jo moved to the chair on the other side of the desk and took a seat. She remained silent and lowered her eyes, finding it difficult to even look up and meet his withering gaze. He was clearly unhappy, although this likely was just as difficult for him as it was for her. Still, she wasn't sure what to say to him at the moment and wanted to see the direction that he was going to take.

Al sat silently for several moments, wondering who was going to break the silence between them first. It probably didn't take a degree in quantum physics to figure out what this meeting was about, so he hoped that maybe she would have said something first. But, as seconds dragged on into minutes, it became very apparent that she wasn't going to be that person. After all, he was the one who called the meeting.

She probably felt bad enough as it was, although he came to know her to be just as headstrong as Sam. If there was something she strongly felt that she was right about, she wasn't about to let the matter go until she could prove it, even if things seemed to be going the other way. In the situation that had taken place, she also wasn't the one holding the gun. Even though he knew that Face would not have killed her, much less harmed her, it still didn't excuse her actions.

"Sami Jo," he started, realizing it was upon him to break the ice. His brown eyes glanced at her with as much caring as concern as he could. "What you did yesterday was very dangerous and risky. You could have been killed."

Sam's daughter didn't bother looking up at him when Al began to read her the riot act. She hated being in this position. "When you pulled up to my house, not knowing that it was you, all Face could do was think about protecting me," she mentioned meekly.

The Admiral shook his head slightly, realizing that she simply just didn't get it. He drew in a breath, realizing this was going to be difficult. "I'm not talking about Face using the guard's gun. I'm talking about you and him leaving the complex, which was under lockdown due to a sandstorm raging outside. You could have run off the road, and nobody would have known what happened until it was too late," he began to explain, hoping that she would understand the seriousness of the situation. "You both could have been killed."

Sami Jo looked down, realizing that Al was right. Even though she had taken her time when driving to her home in Alamagordo, there were times with the sandstorm that she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her car. Anything could have happened, and it could have cost both of their lives.

"Sometimes there is a physical bond between Sam and the Leapee. When Larry Stanton was starting to experience a heart attack in the Waiting Room, Sam was becoming ill back in Pottersville. He found and took some nitro tablets, which not only eased his symptoms but also kept Larry from suffering a massive coronary in the Waiting Room," Al pointed out. He paused for a moment and looked Sami Jo straight in the eye. He wanted her to realize and understand just how serious this really was. "With that kind of a bond and how it affected Sam, I don't want to ever find out what were to happen if our Visitor were to die here in our time. I don't even want to think of what it would do to Sam."

Hearing that caused a surprised look to spread over Sami Jo's face. Even though she found out some time after the fact . . . after she had started working here . . . that her father had Leaped into Larry Stanton, this revelation totally stunned her. She had been at the courthouse when it looked like Larry was having heart problems and had to find his nitro tablets. But she had no idea that things that happened to the Leapee here in this time could have a physical implications for Sam.

"And then those phone calls he made . . . only God knows what he learned from that. Beeksie's working with him now, but all early indications suggest that he learned a few things that he may not have been ready for . . . things that confused him even more and may relate to his future indirectly," he mentioned in a deadly serious tone. They would need his help with this, not to have him hole up within a cocoon like a caterpillar. Then again, caterpillars usually transformed into beautiful butterflies after a time, but they still had to free themselves from that cocoon to show their beauty to the world. All he could do was hope that, when everything was said and done, it would mean that Face would actually trust them.

Sami Jo looked down again as she muttered, "He wanted to use the phone. He didn't want to use one here at the Project."

The Project Administrator heard that, and then drew in a deep breath so he could continue what he had to say. "But . . . instead of allowing Face to head off to who knows where, you stayed with him. And you took him back to your home, which looks relatively normal compared to the rest of ours. Plus, once you were there, you signed into Ziggy to do research on our Visitor which allowed us to determine that you both arrived safely."

Sami Jo looked up, stunned at Al's words. He started out very critical of what had happened, so this was a completely unexpected twist. With the way she saw him lean forward at his desk, she could tell that he wasn't through with what he had to say.

Al folded his hands together and looked straight into Sami Jo's eyes. "So while Face was likely exposed to and learned some things that he wasn't ready for, you took steps that allowed us to find both of you and bring him back to the Project safely. Had it not been for you, Face would be who knows where right now and Sam wouldn't be able to Leap when all of this is done," he explained in an authoritative tone.

It took almost all of her will power to keep her jaw from dropping. She still wasn't sure if she was hearing right. "You mean . . ." she started to say, trailing off with the hope that the Admiral would say what she believed he thought he was implying.

Al smiled at her slightly, hoping to reassure Sam's daughter. He knew her too well, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was likely scared. She likely feared for her job, and he didn't blame her. Such a security violation would have made anyone afraid for their job, although it wasn't her fault at all. "Sami Jo, you know full well that we don't have a chance of getting Sam home without you working on the retrieval program. You're not suspended or fired," he informed her warmly.

Sami Jo let out a sigh of relief, clearly thankful that her job was secure. She had no idea if she would have been allowed to continue in her position, much less to work on the retrieval program. Thankfully, Sam's best friend and her boss was a lot more compassionate than she had expected. Then again, he had almost been like a father figure to her since she had gotten the job at the Project. Still, there was one question that tugged at her conscience. "What about Face? Is everything going to be okay?" she wondered.

The Observer nodded and smiled. "Yeah, he'll be fine," Al informed her. "We'll just have to keep a better eye on him, and take some extra precautions so he doesn't pull his Houdini routine again. We can't have him escaping while Senator McBride is here."

Hearing that made the daughter of Dr. Beckett realize something. She wasn't sure if Al had come to the same conclusion, but she felt it important to share it anyway. "That may be easier said than done. He has a lot of questions that he wants answered, and he'll likely try again until he gets those answers," she pointed out to him. "Al, you're going to have to tell him the truth."

"Yeah . . . I know," Admiral Calavicci admitted grimly. Outside of when Sam had Leaped into his younger self, Leon Styles, and Lee Harvey Oswald, they had not told a Visitor that they were in the future. They still had no idea how much a Visitor remembered from their time in the Waiting Room when they were returned to their own time, and the more they found out the bigger the risk was. Project Quantum Leap was top secret, so they didn't need anyone going back to the past and have someone actually believe them about what they had seen.

Sami Jo nodded, as she knew what the risks were as well. But, even with her short encounter with Templeton Peck, she was absolutely certain of his determination to try to find out what happened to his friends. She saw that dedication and loyalty first hand with his escape attempt. It was going to be a difficult decision, but she knew that Al would make the right one.

Albert Calavicci stood from behind his desk and told her, "Listen, I've got a few minutes before I have to get back to Sam. How about we go get a cup of coffee?"

The brown-haired scientist smiled as she stood, the feeling of dread that had almost consumed her prior to the meeting lifting like the morning fog once the sun came out. In a way, she realized that this was like a second chance. It renewed her own drive and determination to get the retrieval program to work right and bring her father home. For now, she walked by the side of Admiral Calavicci as they exited his office and headed toward the cafeteria.


TUESDAY, MAY 13, 1986

UNIVERSAL STUDIOS

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

2:00PM PACIFIC TIME

Sam stood on the Universal Studios back lot, leaning with his back against the red-striped white Corvette that belonged to Templeton Peck. His green eyes carefully observed the bustle that was taking place a few yards away. He stayed out of the way as the film crew worked swiftly, having done this hundreds of times before.

A couple of grips adjusted some C-stands, changing the position on a couple of large black rectangular panels called flags, which were attached to the end of the gobo arms. They were designed to block the sunlight from creating glaring bright spots that would ruin the lighting effect that they would prefer to have for the scene. While that was going on, the second assistant camera operator was busy loading a new canister of film onto the movie camera, which sat on a platform attached to the end of a rig.

As he watched the costumed leader of the A-Team waddle his way back to the lake, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Even though the Colonel had the experience of being in the role for a while, from what he understood, it didn't help to ease his concerns. From the way he heard the director explain, he had to go underwater and wait for it to get still . . . and then emerge from the water 30 seconds after he called for action. It could come close to three minutes underwater where he had no other choice but to hold his breath. That could be a challenge for anyone, unless they were a free diver or a synchronized swimmer.

What caused the concern is that Al had mentioned that Hannibal would be killed on a mission in a few days, but what if the prolonged time underwater filming these scenes contributed to that event? In a way, he was helpless. He couldn't just interrupt the scenes that were being filmed and tell the Commanding Officer the truth, nor could he dive into the water after him if he took more than 30 seconds to come up. Besides, if there was any chance that the Colonel would drown while filming these scenes, Al would have told him. To that extent, as much as he didn't like it, he had to have trust in both his hologram best friend as well as the crafty Hannibal Smith.

What take were they on already? Wasn't this the second for this particular scene? Watching all of this behind the scenes was far different from being in front of the camera. He recalled his first Leap involving Hollywood, where he had been a stuntman. Al had become star struck with Lorne Greene on that particular Leap. The second was as a soap opera star, and he wound up being kidnapped by a demented fan. The third was as a TV news reporter, trying to track down a killer who ended up being his camera man. Oh . . . and there was another time where he was the host of a talk show called Roberto. Although most of his experiences involved the television industry, the concepts were similar. It was the mechanics behind the scenes that were different.

As much as he wanted to watch what was going on, he found it hard to do so and keep himself from barging in on the middle of the scene. Maybe taking a brief walk might help provide a necessary distraction so he wouldn't jeopardize Hannibal's job. As he looked around the area, his green eyes spotted something that seemed very familiar. He couldn't put his finger on it at first since he was too far away, but a closer inspection might yield some results.

He shifted his weight to stop leaning against the Corvette and stand in an upright position. Sam then casually started to stroll over to check out what he had seen. As he drew closer, his eyes widened and his jaw practically dropped at what rested before his eyes . . .

Although there were no sidewalks crisscrossing the parcel, or a gazebo in the middle, his gaze immediately met the lush green town square that was all too familiar. He followed it as it led toward the marble steps of what could be a courthouse. Grand stone colonnades lined the front of the building and stretched upward until . . .

Sam's breath caught in his chest as he spotted it. It was unmistakable, and it was there! He almost couldn't believe his eyes, and wanted to practically pinch himself, but it was there!

The clock . . .

It wasn't just any clock, either. It was the one that set the stage of activity for one of his all time favorite movies.

As he glanced around the rest of the rest of the buildings that lined the streets, he began to recognize more of the shops that had rested around the town square. There was the dress shop, and over on the corner was the café. On the far end of the street was the marquee for the movie house, and right next to it was the gas station. That's when he realized something else . . . all of the buildings lacked markings, and there were no lights on. They seemed very plain and ordinary compared to what he had seen on the big screen.

Still, it was there . . . it was all really there!

He was so entranced by what he was seeing that he hardly even reacted to the bright white light that suddenly appeared next to him, nor the sound of the Imaging Chamber door that opened. Al stepped through and the moment his brown eyes caught sight of the set before him. He pulled the cigar from his mouth as he exclaimed, "Oh wow! Sam, do you know what this place is?"

"This whole square will be a pond . . ."

The sound of the voice drew both Sam and Al's attention. They could see two figures walking along the grassy square toward the courthouse. The first was a tall figure who was a bit heavy set . . . not too much, but it was clear that he had a bit of a husky physique. His dark brown eyes were set behind a set of aviator style frames that held the lenses for his vision correction. His light brown hair was feathered and well groomed. He was wearing a white dress shirt that was opened at the collar, a black dress jacket, blue jeans, and white sneakers.

The second figure was shorter, but with a classic hairstyle with a part on the right side of his head that emphasized his boyish appearance. His brown eyes complimented the solid red polo shirt that he wore. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue jeans, and he walked next to the taller figure wearing white Nike sneakers with the classic red logo emblazoned on the side.

"That sounds cool . . . but you mentioned getting the car up to 88 without roads," the younger man pointed out as he came to a stop on the corner of the town square, close to the courthouse and right by where Sam and Al stood. His brown eyes surveyed the square itself, almost as if trying to envision what the taller man had told him. He could definitely see that, but he still had a nagging question about the car. "How are you going to pull that off?"

"It won't need roads. Cars in the future will be able to fly," the taller man pointed out with a note of confidence in his voice. He had a knowing look on his face, almost as if he had some information that the younger man was not aware of. He glanced around the square, and then at the courthouse, before looking back at the person who stood next to him.

The shorter man with the boyish face seemed stunned with the idea. "It's gonna fly? But it can't do that," he protested, still not understanding how that might be possible. He knew what cars are able to do, so he knew full well that they don't have the ability to fly.

Sam looked between the two men, not meaning to eavesdrop, but it was nearly impossible to not overhear their conversation. The aspect of flying cars intrigued him, but what caught his attention far more than anything else was the talk about the future. There was something about the two and what they were talking about that seemed familiar, especially the younger man, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as if there was a memory that was just out of grasp due to the Swiss-cheese effect.

Al's jaw practically dropped when he heard the voice . . . that unmistakable voice. It was then that he ultimately recognized the younger man. He did a double take, not sure if he was really seeing what was before his eyes, even if holographic. "Sam . . ." he began to say, literally at a loss for words with how star struck he was.

"It can be outfitted with that in the future. All older cars could get the hover conversion done that would allow them to fly," the taller man stated. "It'll have that when Doc returns to, well, the present. What I haven't been able to figure out is what should happen . . ."

Sam heard that last statement and, without even thinking, chimed in with a suggestion, "What about a time paradox?"

The two men that had been talking between themselves turned and looked at Dr. Beckett. Although they had seen him, he had been just looking at the set and neither one had expected him to interject in their conversation. "What?" they both asked almost simultaneously.

"A time paradox," Sam repeated, almost as if he wasn't sure if they heard him right the first time. Considering how they were all looking at him, he felt that it was best that he clarify what he meant by that. "You know . . . a change in the past that has a drastic impact on the future. It could create an alternate timeline, which would make it a challenge to put right what went wrong," he mentioned, recalling what took place when he had Leaped into his best friend.

That was one Leap where he was worried that he wouldn't see Al again. The Project Administrator was accused of murdering Marci Riker, the wife of Commander Riker who claims that he watched him kill her. When it seemed certain that he was going to be convicted and executed for murder, Al disappeared and was replaced by a British gentleman. What was his name? Oh, that's it . . . Edward St. John V. If Ziggy hadn't clued him into the stub of a cigar that was in Al's Corvette, during a time when Al hadn't smoked cigars, they wouldn't have had a chance to correct history and prove Al's innocence.

Before anyone could react, Sam also suggested, "Maybe he could travel into the past, beyond his own lifetime, like the old west." The idea of traveling beyond his own lifetime was always fascinating to him, and he had enjoyed his Leap as Tyler Mains . . . well, except for when he got drunk with a massive hangover.

The taller figure brought a hand up to his chin. He had almost a far-away look in his eyes as he seemed to mull the concepts over. After what felt like forever, he let out a "Hmmm . . ." He then lowered his hand as a serious expression crossed his face. He was seconds away from dismissing the idea before he turned and saw the expression on the younger man who stood by his side.

For the shorter man, his brown eyes practically seemed to light up with the ideas that had been presented. "Bob, that's a great idea!" he chimed in brightly. "Marty wouldn't hesitate to try and make things better for himself. Since he's gone into the future with Doc, maybe he can find something there to take back with him and try to influence his future."

Hearing the enthusiasm in the voice of his companion, the older man started to give the idea a second and more serious thought. That idea that he had was very enticing, and . . . that was it! "I think you're onto something there. What if he picks up a sports almanac, intending to use it to earn some extra money by betting on the outcome . . . but Biff finds it and takes it, somehow goes to the past and gives it to his younger self?"

"And Marty would have to get the almanac in the past before Biff could use it to become a millionaire . . ." the younger man continued. A coy smile crossed his face as he and the taller man began to walk toward the other side of the town square.

Sam watched the two men as they started to move off, conversing between themselves. He then turned to look at the Project Observer, who just stood there aghast. His eyes were practically bugged out, and it was obvious that he was star struck. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, so he asked the hologram, "Al, what is it?"

The Navy Admiral turned to look at his friend, unbelieving of what he had just witnessed. "Saaaam . . . don't you know who those two were?" Even though he hardly could fathom what he saw and heard, he was even more surprised that Sam didn't recognize at least one of the two men. Then again, with how his friend's brain kept getting Swiss-cheesed due to his Leaps, it was surprising that he could even remember his name.

Sam shook his head slightly, totally confused by Al's reaction. He just didn't understand why he was acting the way he was. What was it about those two that he had just been talking with? "No," he responded, still very confused. "Who are they?"

Al waved his hand around slightly, a slight bit of smoke wafting from the cigar that was wedged between his fingers. "The older guy is Robert Zemekis. He wrote and directed more blockbuster movies than you can count. The younger guy is Michael J. Fox, a really popular actor who was on TV and in the movies. He was the star in all of those Back to the Future movies," he pointed out. He could see the shock appear on Sam's face, but before his friend could say anything he added, "Anytime we managed to pull you away from Project StarBright long enough to go see a movie, those were the only ones you insisted on seeing."

To say that Dr. Samuel Beckett was stunned would have been an understatement. He glanced back toward Robert Zemekis and Michael J. Fox, who were still deeply engrossed in a conversation between themselves. The way that their hands were moving, it was clear that they were excited about the ideas that had been given to them. Seeing this, Sam turned back to his best friend and uttered, "Oh, my God . . ."

The Observer watched his friend's expression. "What's wrong, Sam?" he wondered, trying to figure out why the time traveler said what he did.

Sam raised his hand and ran it over his face, almost as if he was wiping off some sweat over the whole countenance. Not even putting his hand down, he then extended it in a gesture toward the two men. His voice was filled with complete disbelief as he revealed, "I just gave them the idea for the sequels . . ."