A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reading, and a nod to my first reviewers, Questfan and czarminotaur.

The whole situation was giving him a headache, and the blaring alarms didn't help matters. Al rubbed his eyes, sighing. If the Doctor had been here before, why had he come back to them asking all sorts of questions about the Project? Was their integration system more successful than they thought? Did the leapees really never know that anything was different? That's what they'd been trying for, after the incident with Frankie. A complete blank suited their purposes in some cases, sure, but in others, that was downright dangerous—which was why they'd been working on changing the system.

"But I'm right, aren't I? Of course I am. How often am I wrong? No, don't answer that. Thing is, if you're doing what I think you're doing, based on what you've done to me, why didn't I notice you more quickly?"

"What?" Al asked, having only heard the last bit of the Doctor's questions and not managing to follow what he had heard.

"Well, you're clearly playing with time," the Doctor said. "I ought to have noticed that. You've been at it for a while, judging by how smoothly the transition process went. That, and this room just feels…wrong." He shivered, frowning. And shook his head, dismissing whatever his thoughts were before voicing them. "Are you going to tell me how I got here or not?"

"I think you've figured it out," Al replied.

"Then how about how you're in possession of alien technology?"

Al groaned. "Look, if you think you can turn that alarm off, I'll let you out of the Waiting Room for the time being." The others wouldn't be happy with that, but he was willing to do just about anything to get that alarm to stop. He would swear the echoes were echoing in his ears now.

"What's the catch?" the Doctor asked lightly, springing towards the entrance anyhow.

He clearly didn't expect an answer, but Al gave him one anyway. "We don't know where it's coming from," he answered shortly.

Wariness that Al hadn't realized was still present in the Doctor's features faded. "You didn't know you had this, then? Easy enough; I'll just track it down, remove it, and be on my…." He stopped. "Well, ordinarily, I'd be on my way. May not be until you lot move me back. Can't say I'm going to fancy the return trip, but I can't leave Martha alone now, can I?"

Instead of answering, Al called out, "Gooshie! We're coming out!" He hesitated, then added, more quietly, "It's the Doctor."

The Doctor looked at him quizzically. "You know, you seem to be taking this a bit better than I'd expected." Suspiciousness returned, and Al knew what to look for this time.

"You're on the base of a top secret project that deals with time travel," Al responded tightly. "And we've encountered aliens before."

"Ah ha! I knew that you got that—"

"Sam has, I mean. Dr. Sam Beckett. The person who…displaced you."

The Doctor's smile weakened slightly. "Did he, then? What were they? The aliens, I mean."

Al knew better than to answer that, but even if he didn't, he couldn't recall the name of the aliens anyhow. He'd only heard it mentioned a few times in the conversation between them, and since Ziggy's records of that leap were practically wiped, well, it had slipped his mind. He hadn't thought it to be particularly important.

He was saved from having to respond when the door whooshed open. The Doctor looked amused and bounded out, leaving Al to trail after him. He stopped short when an MP pulled gun on him and raised his arms slowly. "Bit paranoid, aren't you?" the Doctor asked, eyeing the soldier warily.

"He's clear," Al informed the MP, who promptly let them pass, saluting Al. To the Doctor, Al added, "We didn't have the best experience last time our leapee got out of the Waiting Room."

"So that's what I am, is it? A leapee? How did you invent that name?"

"Sam quantum leaps through time. So, if he's the leaper, you're the leapee." Al pointed up ahead. "That's the main control room."

"Is it now." The Doctor was studying his surroundings intently. "And what do you—"

When the Doctor stopped so abruptly, Al nearly walked right past him. "What?" he asked, already beginning to get exasperated by the man.

"Shshsh!" the Doctor held up a finger. "Listen."

"To the alarm?" Al asked sarcastically. But, when he paused, he had to admit that the Doctor was right. He could hear something, some extra wheezing sound above the constant blare. He hoped it wasn't some part of Ziggy malfunctioning; that was the last thing they needed, what with everything they were dealing with now.

"Well, that certainly explains something," the Doctor said when the noise had stopped.

"Not to me, it doesn't," Al shot back.

"Maybe not, but things are a bit more clear for me than they were before, and I didn't even have to look to figure that out." He sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. "Right, well, can't be helped," he said after a moment. "Either I'll remember or I'll forget and when the time comes to make that decision, I'll make it. Though I expect I'll know what I chose in a moment or two, because I'm really not quite as good of an actor as I've been before." He looked at Al and grinned. "Come on, then. Allons-y!"

Sam was relieved when the woman let him be, and he began praying to God or Time or Fate or Whatever to send Al to him to figure out what was going on. He didn't quite have the man's character down—no surprise, seeing as he had no idea who he was, except that he was a doctor. The woman he was with clearly had some medical training as well, seeing how she'd wanted to check up on him and how she'd gone about doing it, but he knew he'd have to use her name sometime, and he only had one shot before he blew it. She was suspicious now, he knew, but he was clearly acting close enough to the man's character to not confirm her suspicions. Still, not an easy task. Especially when there was no clear reason as to why he'd leaped in here in the first place.

That, and he had no idea where—or when—'here' was. The woman was British, but he hadn't heard her use any slang that he could nail down to a particular decade. It was night, and they were in a sheep pasture of all places, but a road was nearby. That, however, was clearly not their destination. No, their destination had been a locked blue box, which Sam had almost walked right past in the dark. Of course, on their way back to that blue police box, Sam had seen something that interested him far more—parallel standing stone lines. And what irked him was that he knew where he was when he saw them—at least, what he could make out of them, but, small as they were, they were unmistakable—but he couldn't remember.

A photographic memory wasn't much use when it was full of more holes than a chunk of Swiss cheese.

"I don't even know what I look like this time," Sam muttered, studying his hands. He saw his own, of course. He always saw his own body when he looked down at himself; he only saw whoever he had leaped into when he looked at his reflection. "Come on, Al," he called out, as loudly as he dared. "Where are you?"

There were no two ways about it. Clearly, for now, he was on his own. And he couldn't keep his lovely companion waiting. Sighing, he figured he'd have to follow her lead for his story. It worked well enough every other time.

"Doctor?" she asked when he came into view. She was leaning against the box, waiting for him. "Are you going to tell me now?"

"I wish I could," Sam replied wearily, "but I'm not sure I know myself."

She became instantly concerned. "What is it, then? What's happened? How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm not sure."

She was watching him carefully, although he expected he was a bit more surreptitious in his studying of her. He watched her swallow, nervousness joining the concern on her face. "John," she asked slowly, her voice shaking slightly, "are you…feeling all right?"

"Just a bit confused, that's all," Sam replied gently. John. Excellent. He knew his name now. Doctor John something-or-other.

His companion looked crestfallen, but she plastered a brave smile on her face. "We'll fix you up, then, yeah? Right as rain."

He smiled at her, but it only made her fight back more tears. "I'll be okay," he assured her. "Don't worry."

"I can help you, just like last time," the woman promised. "I can and I will and…and no one will die this time." Sam couldn't hide the shock on his face quickly enough, and she hurriedly added, "Oh, I'm sorry, I guess it hasn't all come back yet, but I expect it will. It wasn't your fault, John. Not really. And if anything happens this time, it won't be your fault either."

Sam was really beginning to wonder exactly what his host did. He was a doctor, yes, but had something gone horribly wrong at the hospital? Had there been a mix-up in the medication? Was his host responsible? If so, why hadn't he leaped in to fix that? What was he here to change that was terrible enough to fix, but the death—or deaths—the woman alluded to were not so horrible that they didn't need to be changed?

"Look, you're chilled," the woman started again, changing tack when she noticed that Sam was shivering. "Here, how about I open up the TA—this magic blue box and we can go rest for a bit? I can put some tea on, maybe a bit of gravy in the pot if you're hungry."

Sam couldn't quite make sense of what she had said, especially the bit of nonsense about the box being magic, and he couldn't bite back his question for clarification. "Are we going home?" he asked softly.

There were tears running down her cheeks now. No mistaking them, even in the poor light. "Not…not home, John. We can't go home home. We're too far away. But…we can go in here, and it's as good as home, even better, I promise." She pulled him into a hug, sniffling a bit, and then pulled back to smile at him.

Sam watched as she fished a key out of her pocket and unlocked the box. "Come on," she coaxed when he didn't move. "There's room enough, if that's what you're thinking. I know you never saw it last time, but you've dreamt about it. You remember your dreams, don't you? All those adventures? All those wonderful, dangerous, thrilling, death-defying, brilliant adventures?" When Sam didn't answer, she bit her lip. "Please, John. Try. For me."

He smiled at her. "For you," he promised. She tried to grin back at him, but she could only manage a weak smile. Trying to hide further tears, she went into the box, leaving him to follow her.

He could hardly keep his jaw from hitting the floor. He looked around in wonder, staring up at the towering ceiling supported by what looked like coral struts. "Oh, but this is brilliant!" he exclaimed, staring around at the room. "It's dimensionally transcendental, isn't it? Oh, it's got to be! No other reasonable explanation. Well, not that there are a lot of people out there who would view it as a reasonable explanation when reasonable implies that it's always—" Sam stopped talking when he realized the woman was staring at him.

"Feeling a bit more at home now, are you?" she asked, smiling encouragingly.

Sam thought over what he had just said. He hadn't realized he was saying everything that was coming out of his mouth. It happened sometimes when he leaped, this taking on bits of the personalities of the people he leaped into. Although this clearly wasn't an average leap. He wondered when he was; far into the future, obviously. Perhaps that was why Al hadn't come to him; maybe they couldn't find him yet. He'd never leaped ahead before, not that he could remember.

"You know, I think I am," he replied, giving her a wide grin, trying to hold onto the bits of personality he'd gleaned from his host. He was relieved that she responded in kind; maybe he would be able to fool her after all. Still grinning like a fool, he closed the door behind him and then walked slowly up the ramp to what appeared to be the main control panel, looking around in wonder. The breakthroughs in science that must have made to achieve such a thing!

"So you're more yourself then, Doctor?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"Seem to be," Sam replied, running one hand over the mishmash of controls. Was that a bicycle pump? Considering that this must be the most recent scientific breakthrough within his lifetime, it did seem a little…run-down.

"Can I ask you something odd?" he said suddenly, looking up at her. From what he could tell, odd was part of the man's character. And she seemed concerned with how he felt, and how much he remembered. He could play on that, use it to his advantage.

"Odd?" she repeated, some of the hope fading from her features.

"Yeah, you know. Strange, weird, out-of-the-ordinary. Odd."

"Yeah, I guess. Shoot."

All right, maybe it was a bit more of a gamble than he should be taking, especially since she'd already checked him out for a concussion. But he was too far along now to stop. "What year is it?"

The woman opened her mouth, and for a few beats, nothing came out. Finally, she said, "I guess you've figured out that it's not 1913, then. Try about seventy years into that future."

Sam stopped and stared at her. "It's 1983?"

"I think that's what you said, yeah."

"1983?"

"Look, I know it's a bit of a shock, but you didn't really grow up in Nottingham, Do—John. Mr. Smith, I mean. Sorry. Keep forgetting. But that…that part of your life…. That part was a lie." When Sam didn't say anything, she continued, "Look, Mr. Smith, I'm sorry if you think I'm acting above my position, but…." The woman shook her head. "For a minute there, you were the Doctor. Do you remember him? Do you remember the Doctor? He terrified you last time, but you were brave, and you accepted it, and…and you've got to do it again. Please, Mr. Smith!"

Sam blinked at her. Exactly where had he ended up? Had quantum leaping somehow taken him through a gap in fabric of the space-time continuum, landing him in a parallel world? Because this, this, was not possible. And he considered himself to be open-minded. He was willing to accept the impossible, even with just a minimal explanation. But this? It didn't even make any sense. How could this exist in 1983? Project Quantum Leap hadn't even been finished then, not by a long shot, and they had had access to cutting edge technology. He knew nothing like this had been available.

"It…it is you, isn't it?" the woman asked, sounding a bit scared now. "I mean, he hasn't done this before, has he? He said he hadn't, but he says a lot of things. Well. He implied that he hadn't, at any rate. Maybe because we're not at the school, and you didn't actually…." She stopped, trying to figure out how to say what she was thinking. "Doctor, are bits of John Smith bleeding through?"

"I beg your pardon?" Sam couldn't think of how to answer that question. Exactly whatdid she mean?

"You really don't have a clue what's going on, do you?" she asked, walking around the console to look at him more closely.

"Not really, no," Sam admitted, looking at her warily now. Had he blown it by asking the year after all?

"Oh, god, I'm such an idiot!" she said, shaking her head. "Do you even know where you are?"

He shook his head.

"You're in the TARDIS," she explained. "And I know you told me what it stands for, but I can't remember it right now, not precisely, and I don't want to muss it up. But do you recognize it?" She laughed nervously. "What am I talking about? Of course you don't. You recognize it for what it is, more or less, but you don't actually recognize it." She sighed. "Oh, god, how am I going to get out of this one?" She looked around the room, but nothing seemed to catch her eye. She looked at him again, and then pounced on him, drawing something out of his pocket. "Here, do you see this?" she asked, waving it in his face.

He stepped back and took it from her. It looked like a small metal flashlight. He pressed a button on the side and the tip lit up bright blue, emitting a buzzing sound. The woman was nodding encouragingly. "Yes, that's right. Now name it."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "I don't know what it is," he said. Honesty was the best policy, after all, and this leap had to be the weirdest one he'd experienced. Although, there were the vampires. Well, not vampires, but they pretended to be. That, and the aliens. And the ghosts which weren't really ghosts, though he couldn't explain how the housekeeper had….

Sam shook his head. He always had numerous thoughts in his mind, but he was usually able to give them a little more direction than that. Thathad seemed like random babbling. Well, not really random, considering that he had been following one train of thought. It was just that that train of thought followed an elongated, jumping sort of track, and, well, he wasn't the best at comparisons, really, not all the time, but, all things considered, some of his spur-of-the-moment—

He shook his head again, trying to clear it. It wasn't working. And now the woman was looking at him critically again, with a cautious sort of curiosity. "Are you a different John Smith, then?" she asked. "I mean, if you're the one I'm thinking of, you…. I dunno, you wouldn't still be listening to me, I don't think. You would have called this utter madness and left by now, even if you had nowhere to go." She swallowed. "Do you remember Joan?"

He shook his head.

She looked a bit relieved. Then, "But you remember me, yeah?"

He took too long in answering. "Oh, you don't, do you?" she asked. "God, I can be so thick. Martha," she said, sticking out her hand. "Martha Jones. Remember? We met in the hospital. I was getting trained. You were in for stomach pains that you'd faked. Or at least I think you faked them. And when I had to listen to your heart, and I heard the double beat and checked the other side of your chest, you winked at me."

He stared at her. "Don't recall that, no," he said, wondering what on earth she meant by a double beat. Surely if she were training to be a doctor, she'd know if it was some form of arrhythmia.

"Well, then, can Time Lords get amnesia?" She looked a bit frustrated now.

"What?" Sam asked, now thoroughly lost. Time Lords? What was she on about? Did she need psychiatric help? For that matter, did he?

"This is for real, right? You aren't just pulling my leg?" The question sounded desperate, and the woman—Martha—apparently realized that Sam's answers had been honest—excluding the lie of omission where he didn't tell her who he was. "Oh, Doctor, what did they do to you?" She didn't seem to be expecting an answer to this, either. Instead, she walked over to the chair—pilot's seat?—and plunked down on it, looking up at him. She looked exhausted. "You probably aren't the least bit tired, are you?"

"Not terribly," Sam answered, smiling slightly at her. He never leaped into someone feeling particularly tired, which was just as well, because half the time he ended up running fairly quickly, and he always needed to think on his feet. Even the time they'd spent wandering around hadn't particularly exhausted him.

She buried her head in her hands. "Look," she said, her words a bit obscured when she didn't bother to lift her head, "how about you tell me what you do remember?"

"About?" Sam asked, buying time and wanting clarification.

"Well, not about me, since you obviously don't remember who I am. About the TARDIS, then. I've been babbling on and probably jumping to conclusions, so we'll start simple. Did you know what it was and just not realize that it was yours?"

"Mine?" Sam repeated. His host owned this? Scratch being a medical doctor, then. The man had to be a scientist.

Martha groaned. Lifting her head to look upwards, she said, "And after all I've seen him do, I thought that maybe being here would snap him out of it. Why can't I just be right for once?"

"Seen me do in terms of what?" Sam asked, figuring that if he was going to pretend he had memory loss, this was a suitable way to go about it. Besides, if he learned more about the man he'd leaped into, then maybe he could eventually convince Martha everything was fine. And if not, well, he could claim he'd had a relapse of sorts.

"Well, the list could go on," Martha replied with a chuckle, "but I meant in terms of stroking the TARDIS and talking to it. Her. Talking to her. You'd said something about having a connection once, I think. Or at least, that's what you implied." She threw up her arms and jumped out of the chair. "But, of course, if you're reverting to human, you wouldn't have that anymore."

"No, of course not," Sam agreed, sensing that that was what she wanted to hear. Then his mind processed what she'd said. "Wait, what? Reverting to human?"

Martha sighed. "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?"

The alarm cut off abruptly, the sudden silence leaving Al's ears ringing. He shot a sideways glance at the Doctor. "Was that you?" he asked, wondering how he could have stopped the alarm without getting near it.

"Well, I don't expect it was any of you lot," the Doctor replied. "Not if it's been ringing that long." His eyes swept the hallway. "You don't happen to have a broom closet around here, do you? Or some unused corner?"

Al raised his eyebrows at that question. "End of the hall," he admitted. "Though I don't see how that's relevant."

"Oh, but that's because you aren't looking," the Doctor told him enthusiastically.

Before Al could respond, there was a crashing sound and a shrill shriek. "Sorry!" a voice called out. "Sorry, just…bit squished in here, didn't mean to startle you, sorry."

The Doctor sighed. "Sometimes I hate being right. Really have to watch what I say when these things happen."

"Al!" It was Tina, and she'd spotted him the moment she'd rounded the corner. "Did you have to invite him back? We barely got over last time! You have absolutely no excuse to do this to me—us—again."

"What?" Al looked between her and the Doctor, who was looking faintly amused.

Tina's eyes found the Doctor. "What's he doing out?" she asked. "Or she, I suppose." Turning to the Doctor, she said, "Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor," he answered easily, grinning at her and offering a hand.

Tina ignored him, focusing again on Al. "You…you're…how?"

Al stepped back, holding up his hands to fend her off. "Don't look at me; I can't control who Sam leaps into anymore than you can."

"But you have to have set this…." Tina trailed off, glancing behind her. Al could hear footsteps now. "Oh, Al, at least tell us the truth this time."

"About what?" Al asked, still lost.

"Me, I'd wager," the Doctor replied cheerfully, rounding the corner. "Hello again, Al. I just thought I'd pop in and see if you knew what sort of danger Sam's getting into now. Sorry about the alarm; thought I had it programmed so that it would accept my presence when I arrived in the TARDIS. Didn't mean to set it off. Still, I don't—" He broke off, staring at the leapee who was now leaning casually against the wall. "Oh," he said in a small voice. "Blimey, I didn't think…."

"Ought to have," the other Doctor countered as he straightened up. "You're ahead of me, from what I gather."

Tina rubbed her temples. "I'm…going to go get some coffee."

"Really didn't mean to startle you!" the Doctor called after her. "Tripped over a pail, hit something, door flew open, sort of fell out on top of…. Well." He shook his head. "All in the past."

"Relatively speaking," the other Doctor added. "It's just as much in the future as in the past."

"Yeah…." The Doctor trailed off, tugging at his ear. "Say, where are you, anyhow?"

"With Martha," the Doctor answered. "And I take it you aren't."

"No, but…. She's safe, really."

The Doctor looked a bit relieved. "Good. Good." He closed his eyes. "Just need to make sure I keep it that way."

Al was getting another headache, and this one hadn't started from a blaring alarm. "Let's go into my office. We can sort things out there."

"Brilliant idea," the Doctors answered in unison, grinning at each other.

Al could feel his headache getting worse by the minute.