NOTE: I do not, nor will not in the foreseeable future own Quantum Leap, Batman or any characters related to the two properties.

Chapter One

Lightning in the Dark Knight

Al took a bite out of his cheeseburger, as his daughter, Gina, sipped at her chocolate malt.

"So," Al said dipping a French fry into his ketchup, "What movie should we see?" He munched on the fry.

Gina tried to think of a movie that would be good for both of them. They could go see that horror film villain showdown movie, the one with the unknown caller vs. the killer puppet guy. Or they could go see that new super hero movie. No, the reviews said that it wasn't very good. Then it hit her.

"What about that Indiana Bond movie?"

Al squinted.

"Which one?" There were so many of those movies it was hard to keep track.

"Die Another Day Tomorrow, After I Live Again, in the Ark of the Lost Temple Raiders."

Al's eyebrows rose.

"That sounds like a good one. They say it's better than," Suddenly his jacket pocket started shaking. He pulled the vibrating hand link out of his pocket.

"How many times do I have to tell them only buzz me in an … Oh, Boy!" His eyes widened, as if confused and yet amused at the same time.

"Dad," Gina set the glass on the table.

"Check please!" Al said, raising his hand to signal the waitress on wheels. "Gina, do you mind if we take a ride over to the project?" he said, pulling bills out of his wallet.

"Did something happen to Uncle Sam?" The waitress slipped the piece of paper on the table, and continued taking orders.

"They weren't very specific." He put thirty dollars on top of the bill, and a saltshaker on top of that. "Considering we don't know the state of the emergency, let's get over there as soon as possible." Al typed a code into the keypad, and suddenly a motor turned over in the parking lot. His daughter looked surprised.

"I know a little more about computers than everyone gives me credit for." Once they were in the car, Al made sure his G.P.S. could get them to the project as quickly as they could.

"Hold on to your seat hot shot." He floored and they drove off into the dessert.

Elsewhere

Sam didn't know what was happening, or where he was for that matter. As far he could tell he was stuck in the blue light stream that surrounds him when leaping.

"God, am I dead?" He was tired and his body ached. Soreness flowed through his limbs. "No," he thought, "Definitely not dead."

Then he noticed something odd. When he leaps he feels a floating sensation, as if he's being pulled out of his current body. But right now he didn't feel that. In fact it was hard to feel any thing but pain. Sam remembered (remembering anything was odd too) that one day back on the farm, he had twisted his ankle at basketball practice. His mother had helped him up the stairs, into his room, and opened the window beside his bed.

"I want you to try and sleep, it is good way to avoid pain."

"Why did you open the window?" he asked easing himself under a light blanket.

"Nothing puts me to sleep faster than some fresh air. Who knows, maybe it will work for you."

Sam had somehow made his way to the "floor" and was drifting off. He had been on guard so long; it was nice to sleep peacefully.

"What do you mean there's no one in the waiting room?" Al's hands started to tremble. Gushie (g-oo-she) wandered the room with his clipboard. Gina stopped him by the shoulders.

"Gush," she said staring him down, "My godfather's body is still in there, right?"

"Oh, yes. Dr. Beckett's torso is still present; however we have no Neural or Masonic activity." Gina fanned her nose, Gushie's reputation stood clear. She reached into her purse and pulled out a candy dispenser.

"Dude … seriously. Two words, Pepper Mint."

"Ziggy, how did this happen?" Al said rubbing his neck.

"Admiral, we are the victim of a rolling power outage throughout the greater New Mexico area, of which we were informed of only moments before we went dark. Our generators held the accelerator on line; however it too blanked when Dr. Beckett leaped."

"Oh, um," Al was starting to get a head ache, "Has anyone assessed the damage?"

Gushie peaked up from his clipboard. "The power came back on about a half hour ago. Doctor Beckett is fine wherever he is; and Ziggy is recovering data as we speak."

"How do we know the good doctor is okay?" Gina asked intriguingly.

Ziggy interrupted. "Doctor Beckett is still alive 100%. If he was dead, well quite frankly, he'd be dead." Even the hybrid computer had a sense of humor.

"Where is Doctor Beeks?" said Al pacing the room.

"She is monitoring Doctor Beckett."

Al sat down in front of Ziggy's keyboard. He typed a few keys and a piece of the wall turned into a projection screen. The blue dome in the center of the ceiling projected onto the screen. A small voice synthesizer appeared on it spiking when Ziggy spoke.

"Ziggy, status report."

"Data recovery is at 67%"

"How much longer until we can activate the accelerator?"

"With current restoration at 2% per minute, and 33% data to recover, it will take approximately 16.5 minutes to collect the 33. That is, if you allow me to continue the restoration process."

"One last question, how much of the 33% is required to activate the accelerator?"

The synthesizer representing Ziggy's voice slowed.

"Unknown Admiral. When the acceleration program is fully restored the chamber should instantaneously reboot, sending Doctor Beckett to his temporal destination."

"Good. We need the accelerator back on line as soon as it's functional. So," Al said looking around the room, "Who's going to tell the wives?"

The few people that were in the surrounding area suddenly became occupied, and Ziggy played a video clip of a cartoon canary whistling, to politely say "Not Me".

"Fine." The man sighed, running his hands through his hair, "Ziggy, open a video link with Doctor Elesee, and Mrs. Calavicci." Al could tell this was not going to go well.

Two windows appeared on the screen, accompanied by a tone, and followed by a rapid dialing pattern. Donna Elesee Beckett, Sam's wife, came on to the screen.

"Al?" Donna said, squinting.

"Yeah, Donna it's me. I," And in an instant Beth, Al's wife, filled into the right window.

"Albert Calavicci, if someone isn't bleeding, unconscious or dead…"

"Beth we're not alone." He clacked on his keyboard and then it was efficiently clear that their video feeds were patched. Donna smiled politely, as Beth gasped with embarrassment.

"Oh dear," she said bashfully, "Please forgive me, I had no Idea that,"

"Beth you have nothing to apologize about. I would be just as upset if I was woken up at 3:00 AM. Oh wait,"

Al looked at his watch; he hadn't looked at a clock since they left the house,

"I was."

"Ladies, are you sitting down?" Then there was an alarming pause.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." She didn't need a reason. Donna had seen this look on Al's face a few times too many.

Al yawned. He couldn't sleep that night, and at 1:30 AM had gotten up to get a glass of milk. He had entered the kitchen to see Gina sitting at the table, two steps ahead of him with a gallon of milk and a package of Oreos waiting next to her. They talked, neither of them could sleep, and they were both very hungry. So, they went to eat and decided to go see a movie. The sound of a familiar voice brought Al out of his flash back.

"Al, I want you to do me a favor," Beth said noticing the bags under his eyes.

"Go ahead."

"Down the hall is a cot in the nurses' station. Go take a nap."

"No, they need me to,"

"I'll wake you up." She said patiently, "Really, go!"

"I'll see you soon." They said goodbye and the feeds disconnected.

Al knew his instructions and intended to follow them to a T.

People sometimes have small, subtle precognitions. In many cases they are forgotten until the event happens, at which point a sense of familiarity sets in. Some call it Déjà vu, others call it fate, many prefer not to define it, but nonetheless, it isvery common. Al was having one of these precognitions right now, as most do, in the form of a dream.

He was on top of a building, his vision blurry. This being a dream meant that he was seeing things in an altered perspective. He looked around; it was an empty, dark rooftop, it was calm but too quiet to be peaceful. Then he looked back in front of him. There was a person standing on the edge of the building.

A spotlight suddenly filled the air with a feeling of relief. But why? And what was that silhouette filling the light? A shadow of something … it's too blurry to tell. He looked back to the man who too had noticed it. There was a strange familiarity about him. The man turned towards the rest of the city again. And in an instant he was gone; he had let himself lean forward until he fell over the side! It was almost an intentional, graceful action.

"Wait!" Al said running over to the side of the building, there was a bright flash of light and he woke up. He sat up on the cot, pondering this strange dream, and trying to remember it. After almost every slumber, the details of a dream are forgotten. And in a few minutes Al's dream would be no different.

He pulled a pill case out of his pocket: Aspirin. He had found it to be a necessity at the project, and learned to carry it on him. He felt quiet today. Most likely caused by his drowsiness; it would pass. He walked out into the large hallway, and realized it was quiet out here as well. He turned a corner, humming a little ditty, and passing numerous offices. The staff at the project exceeded scientists and doctors. There were more than 100 other people, some who did damage control l, should someone see something they shouldn't, others in accounting paying the bills and getting as much funding as possible no matter how unstable or loose, and others who did things Al didn't think would be needed; Like the medical wing. Who was going to get hurt working at a computer? But it was a good thing they had it when Sam leaped into a crook on the lamb, which managed to swipe a gun from a security officer. Needless to say the medical wing was packed that night.

Al walked further yet and pushed through a set of steel doors leading to the cafeteria. Tables and booths filled the dining atmosphere, a few of which had a flower filled vase as a centerpiece. The cafeteria wasn't too unlike that of a hospital. One exception being it was not as quiet.

The dining area was to the right. The serving table was straight ahead. It was a small buffet setup: trays and plates sitting at the head of the table, food through the middle, and a cashier at the end. He grabbed a brown tray and set it on the metal slider. He pocketed some plastic wear and heard,

"Hello, Al." It was Alice: the head cook. She leans in and replaces the cold scrambled eggs, with a fresh serving. Al was happy the food was fresh. The cafeteria was open from 5:30 am, to 10:00 pm. It was actually open all night, but breakfast was served 5:30-10:30, lunch from 11:00-4:30, and dinner/desert 5:00-9:00, leaving half an hour for clean up, at which point prepackaged food would be available for purchase. And the best part was, when fresh food was served it was homemade!

"Good morning Alice. What's on the menu for the rest of the day?"

"The lunch theme is comfort foods, such as ham, mashed potatoes, hot dogs, green bean casserole, chicken noodle and tomato soup, and macaroni and cheese!"

"Yum," Al had been invited to the Beckett's (Sam's Immediate family) annual Fourth of July celebration. And the macaroni and cheese was the acclaimed dish. "Mac 'n' Cheese, just like Mrs. Beckett makes it."

"And it's accompanied by my Johnny cake."

Given the context of the conversation, it could only be one person, and as Al turned around he knew his presumption was just. It was Sam's mother, Thelma Beckett.

"Mrs. Beckett," He was happy to see her, but the visit couldn't have been more inept given the current complications. "Why didn't you warn, uh, tell us you were coming out?"

"I phoned Donna, at least a week ago," She saw that Al had no prior knowledge of such a discussion, "She didn't tell you." Now, she started to feel like a hindrance.

"No, but it wouldn't be the first time. I'm telling you Mrs. B. I'm the last person to know anything, around here these days. Would you care to join me for some breakfast?"

"Oh, I don't want to intrude, I just wanted say hello."

"You're not intruding, please," He said handing her a tray and plastic wear.

"Why, thank you Al. So," She said moving down the buffet, "How is the family doing?"

"Well, everyone is healthy and generally happy so, we're doing just fine." He said scooping eggs onto his plate.

"Be sure to say hello for me." She stated, stabbing a sausage patty.

"Actually, Beth and Gina are here today, and as for the rest, well, we'll just have to invite you to dinner before you leave."

As they reached the cashier Thelma pulled a few dollars from her purse, and gestured them towards the cashier.

"Oh, no Mrs. B., let me get this one." He said, pushing the bills back in her direction. He plucked his project security card off of the small clip that was hanging from his waist. The cashier took it and slid a small numerical keypad in front of him. He typed a number into it, which would pull up his account. The cashier compared the picture I.D. with the computer's photo record, confirming Al's credibility. She handed him the card, and said "Thank you, Admiral. You have ten credits left on your account."

"Thank you, uh," Al said squinting to read the cashier's nametag, "Marie. This way Madame," He said waving Mrs. Beckett towards a table.

"Please, let me pay you back." She said sitting down.

"No, no, I have these credits for just this purpose. I have my card pre paid with twenty of these credits, which are vouchers for a whole days worth of food. So, if I ever have to stay at the project for long periods of time, I don't have to leave the premises. Please, enjoy your meal."

"Now, Al. I have to ask you, is there any chance of my boy coming home soon?" She asked continuing to eat.

"Well," Al said, before wiping his mouth, "we have had some progress on the retrieval program, however, it appears we've hit a pothole… a really big pothole."

Thelma put her fork on her plate. "Al, is there a problem I haven't been informed about?" She wasn't quite angry, as she was more concerned for her son's safety.

"Well, that's the thing; the problem is that we don't know if we have a real problem yet. See, late last night, or early this morning,"

Suddenly he was interrupted, "Excuse me, but," It was Gushie; he had noticed Sam's mother and said, "Oh, hello there Mrs. Beckett. How was your flight?"

"What did I tell ya: The last one to know every thing." Al whined.

"It was a little dull, but, not bad. Please, continue Dr. Gusheimer."

"Yes, well, Admiral, we still can't get a lock on Doctor Beckett," Thelma suddenly, shot Al a fierce look of… shock, no, more like anxiety, "But, there is finally someone in the waiting room!" He said cheerfully.

"Ah, good, the accelerator is back on line." Al said slightly relieved, "Well, who do we got?"

Gushie shook his head with a grin.

"You're never going to believe this…"

Elsewhere

People sometimes have small, subtle precognitions. Sam, like Al, was having one of these precognitions right now, in the form of a dream.

He was on top of a building, his vision blurry. This being a dream meant that he too was seeing things in an altered perspective. He looked around; it was an empty, dark rooftop, it was calm but too quiet to be peaceful. Then he looked behind him. There was a person standing in the center of the rooftop.

The man looked up as a spotlight suddenly filled the air with a feeling of purpose, or responsibility; but why? And what was that silhouette filling the light? A shadow of something … it's too blurry to tell. He looked back to the man who had first noticed it. He looked familiar somehow, but it was too dark to make out any details. He turned forward again. And in an instant he had let himself lean forward until he sprung over the side! It was an intentional, graceful action.

"Wait!" The man behind him shouted, there was a bright flash of light, followed by that floating sensation Sam had not previously felt, which meant he was finally leaping into a new host. After almost every slumber, the details of a dream are forgotten. And in a few minutes, because of Sam's Swiss cheese of a brain, this dream would be no different.

When the blue light finally fades, he realizes that he, or rather who ever he had leaped into, was holding a man a few feet in the air, gripping his jacket collar. He was so bizarre looking. His cryptic pale white skin pigment, accented by a crop of dingy grass like hair, only to finish off the look with a pair of distorted scarlet lips. There was one truly odd feature that blazed out above all of the other appearance flaws: a perfectly position smile. It was no run of the mill grin though. No, if any thing it was taunting. Each crooked tooth delicately positioned, so that if you looked at it for longer than a mere glance, it would corrupt your dreams for a week to come.

"Some sort of a demented clown?" Sam thinks to himself, "But what exactly was 'I' doing to him before I leaped in?" And as he studied the strange jester more closely, Sam realized he looked frighteningly familiar! It was as though he was an old friend… or perhaps an enemy.

"Enough of the all American lecture big guy!" He had clearly leaped into the middle of a conversation. "It's the dawn of a new era! When this city's defenses finally fell under, the power to control its underbelly of crime was fresh for the picking. And although the mob crowd reigns over the garden of crime, I think I'll try my hand and see what I can grow. After all you know how well my greens have grown!" He chuckled, motioning to his hair, "The city's crime lord changes semi-annually, and no matter who you put in charge of our little anti-Eden, one rule never changes: if you can't take the heat get out of the fire.

"So, as I see it you got two options, either kill me," He said screaming now, "or get out of the fire!" He said chuckling and laughing chaotically.

"Uh," He hated this part. Sam had ad-libbed his way into or out of a situation many times, and somehow it never seemed to play out into his hands. "Let's simmer down, a little." He murmured, not intending to use any puns. Sam gently set the man down on the pavement.

"I see you have a laughing side after all. Not that the pitiful pun you just used is worth more than an under your breathe guffaw. But it's a start for a stiff like you." He says straightening his lapels. "By the way," He says subtly sliding his hand into the jacket pocket, "I've been meaning to ask you," He fiddled with something, still going unnoticed,

"Why…" He starts to remove his hand,

"So…" his closed fist comes out of his pocket,

"Serious?" And as he opens his hand a small pellet bounces to the ground and rolls over to Sam's feet.

And before Sam could react, the ball explodes, releasing thick pink smog in the air.

"What do you …" He doubles over coughing, the gas was cutting off his oxygen! He felt strangely giddy, and out of reaction stuck his head into his arm, to try and filter the air. He hadn't realized it before but he had been wearing a uniform or a jumpsuit, or at least that's what it seemed to be.

He heard sirens closing around him, just after bright red and blue lights burst through the smoke. A car door slammed as someone shouted,

"Freeze! This is Commissioner Jim Gordon, Gotham P.D.; we have you surrounded!" Sam slowly puts his hands in the air, and takes to his feet. "You are under…" the fog had dissipated and suddenly the commissioner's expression went from one of sternness to one of slightly relaxed sternness, "Oh, it's you." He motions his back up to stand down. Well, apparently Sam wasn't the bad guy this time. "So, are you O.K.?"

"I'll be fine," he said nearing the officer, "I let my guard down long enough for him to make a move."

"Ugh," the commissioner sighed, running his fingers through his hair, "why can't these psychos learn that no matter how long they run we end up nabbing 'em any ways. Well, which way did he go?"

"East, towards Wayne Tower." Then Sam thinks, "How did I know that?"

"Well, thanks for your help. I don't know what we would do without you Batman." The officer starts to walk away.

"Any time Commissioner Gordon. Wait, Batman?" He looks at his hands, which are covered by black gloves, then at his chest, which is clothed by a gray top which has a large black bat spanned across it. Finally he ran over to a patrol car so he could see his reflection. When he moved the mirror to face him, he didn't see just a face reflecting back, but a cowl and two pointed ears darting from the sides. He patted the mask with his hands and said, "I'm Batman… Oh, Boy!"