Acknowledgments: Several people outside the fan-fiction community have provided assistance with this story, and I'd like to take a moment to spread the credit around where it's due. Adam L. Beberg at mithral (dot) com (tilde) beberg was kind enough to answer a few questions about corporate practices regarding the white hats who assist them in maintaining cyber security, and special thanks go to Doug Jones and the crew of Computer Upgraders in Sumter, SC, for the technical advice. (If you're ever in Sumter and you have computer trouble, go to Computer Upgraders; they're tops. They'll also provide advice at their website, computerupgraders dot com. Or just look for them on Facebook.) Within the fan-fiction community, arathorn75 provided technical help. Mrs. Phineas Bogg has my heartfelt thanks for her assistance and advice in crafting the prologue, and, as always, thanks to Jordre for the beta.

Disclaimer: Voyagers! and its associated characters are registered trademarks of Scholastic Productions, James D. Parriott Productions, and Universal-MCA Entertainment. Quantum Leap and its associated characters are registered trademarks of Belisarius Productions and Universal Studios. This story is based on characters and situations created by James D. Parriott and Donald P. Bellisario and is provided for entertainment purposes only; no copyright infringement is intended by the author.

Chapter 1
The Name Game

Daytona, Florida; November 3, 1916

It had been three days since Jeffrey had run afoul of two bigoted teens bent on teaching him a lesson for daring to befriend Mary McLeod Bethune and her students. They had taken him by surprise in the boarding house where he and Bogg had been staying and had beaten him severely; only the fact that other boarders had intervened had prevented the boy's injuries from being worse than they were. As it was, he had sustained massive bruising and a mild concussion. Typically for such injuries, he was sorer now than he had been when it had happened, though the dizziness had resolved, and the doctor had pronounced him fit for as much activity as he could tolerate.

If he'd had any lingering doubts about his place with Bogg after Voyager Price had met them to deliver a new Guidebook, they had been dispelled by Bogg's assertion. You're my kid in all but name and blood, the older Voyager had said, then had made an offer that had taken him completely by surprise: I can change the "name" part of that if you want. The boy's face had lit up at the words, but Bogg had stopped him from answering at once. An important decision like that, he'd insisted, needed careful consideration.

At first it had taken no thought at all; after all, he'd been secretly hoping for that very thing for months. For a man who claimed not to be known for his patience, Bogg had shown an amazing amount of it in the past year. He'd gone a long way toward filling the void in Jeffrey's heart created by the loss of his parents. There was only a small "hole" left now, which the boy suspected would always be there, but it didn't hurt quite so much anymore. It had been that Christmas Eve in 1892 Pittsburgh when the realization had first hit him…

…Amy at the piano, Jeffrey at her side, as together they sang "Silent Night," his heart soaring as the last shreds of conflict between his parents and Bogg fell away. If this had happened only a few months ago, he probably would have wanted to stay here with his great-grandparents, but not now. Surrounded by the furnishings and trinkets he'd grown up with, he finally realized the truth: This wasn't a homecoming, but a final farewell. Almost comfortable in familiar surroundings, he felt just a little bit out of place, and he realized how much a year traveling through time had changed him, enough so that the trappings of his past no longer quite fit, the same way his clothes didn't quite fit anymore. Before much longer, he would have to leave them behind, just as he now found himself ready to leave his past behind. His parents were gone; his place was with Bogg now, and he was happy with that. More than happy. The guilty wish he'd harbored since the first time he'd heard Bogg call him "my kid" became a dead certainty: If there was an adoption in his future, he knew where he wanted it to come from.1

With that in mind, he'd been certain of his answer for all of fifteen minutes, until the actual wording of the offer had sunk in, and he'd become uncertain all over again. Unable to tolerate sitting up to read until yesterday evening, he'd spent the better part of the past few days battling renewed guilt and emotional discord. He was still wrestling with it now as the two got ready to leave.

Seeing Jeffrey going through that struggle, Bogg pretended not to notice. While he couldn't claim to know just what the kid was enduring, he did understand the clash of loyalties; he'd experienced it himself when he hadn't been much older. Sometimes it was all he could do to ignore the boy's pain, but he didn't want to put any more pressure on him than he was already causing himself.

North Dakota; September, 1935

They landed at the far end of a railroad station, unnoticed amidst the bustle of passengers boarding and arriving. The tracks and station formed the median in the center of the small town's main street, where the day's activities were just beginning. On one side of the street, shopkeepers were cranking open the awnings over their storefronts; on the other, a cluster of children carrying schoolbooks and lunch pails walked past a row of small houses. They ranged in age from one small boy probably in his first year, to one roughly Jeffrey's age, who was teasing a slightly younger girl in that manner common to big brothers in almost every time and place.

The idyllic setting was enough to make one wonder what of importance could possibly have happened here, and Bogg momentarily gave in to that temptation as he got to his feet, looking for Jeffrey. He found the boy barely a foot away, struggling to get up, grimacing in pain; the older Voyager winced sympathetically as he gave him a hand.

"Where are we?" Jeff asked.

"North Dakota, 1935. And we got a green light."

"I guess the Omni decided we could use a vacation. O wise and merciful Omni," he intoned, making salaaming motions at the device in Bogg's hand. His guardian swatted playfully at him, and he danced out of reach, laughing, even as he held a hand against his left side.

Was there anything that could keep that kid down for long, Bogg wondered, never ceasing to be amazed at his resilience. While Jeffrey insisted he was only badly bruised, as had the doctor, Bogg wasn't so sure. He'd heard of hairline fractures, cracks so fine that even the most advanced medical equipment didn't always show them, much less the primitive x-ray machines of the time zone they had just left, and he knew it didn't take much for one to progress to a complete break. Maybe a vacation wasn't such a bad idea, after all. "Let's see what we can do about getting some warmer clothes," he said, noticing the goosebumps on Jeff's arms and beginning to feel the chill himself. They made their way to the general store, glad that at least they had landed in a time zone where the money they had left from their last assignment should still be good.

The ground floor was devoted to groceries; a sign directed them up a flight of stairs at the back of the shop for clothing and other dry goods. Behind those stairs was the door to the basement; it stood open, emitting the sounds of someone struggling up the steps with something heavy. Bogg spared a glance and found an elderly woman carrying a box of Mason jars, which threatened to slide from her insecure grip. He rushed forward and caught it just as she lost her hold altogether. She cringed, obviously expecting to hear the shattering of glass as the box fell, then relaxed when she saw that Bogg had caught it. "Thank you so much, young man," she sighed in relief. "Could I possibly trouble you to bring up two more boxes? My son's home sick today, and Mrs. Conklin's going to be here in a few minutes; she gets terribly crotchety if her order isn't ready when she arrives."

Bogg chuckled, knowing the type too well. "Just point me at 'em, ma'am. Jeff, you go on upstairs and pick out a coat for yourself; I'll be there as soon as I'm done."

The boy started to offer to help, but the protest of abused muscles as he reached forward made him think better of it.

Once upstairs, he found the coats quickly and began looking through them. There wasn't much to choose from; they were all similar in cut and style, and differed little in color: Black, charcoal gray, dark brown, or navy blue were his only options. With a shrug, he selected a blue one and tried it on.

He knew he was the reason they were even bothering to stay in a green zone long enough to worry about clothes. He had only been joking about a vacation, but Bogg was taking it seriously, and Jeffrey had to admit that, this time, his sometimes overprotective guardian was right: He really wasn't ready to handle another assignment.

Finding the coat a decent fit, he took it off and draped it over his arm as he wandered over to the hardware section to browse as he waited. Tools whose functions he wouldn't have been able to guess a year ago were familiar to him now; he smiled as he remembered Bogg teaching him to use some of them.

It brought him back to Bogg's offer once more; like the Omni memory-reader in the courtroom a few weeks ago, his mind began parading memories before his consciousness.

"Please don't let them take me, Bogg!" Jeffrey sobbed.

"I don't think I can stop them, Jeff," Bogg told him. "But if they do take you," his voice cracked, and he sniffed heavily, "I'll make them take you back to before I came along. Before the accident; before your parents died. I promise." His eyes, swimming in unshed tears, bored into Jeffrey's. "That's a promise I won't break."

Jeffrey nodded, but even as he did, he suddenly realized he wasn't sure he wanted them back. It was a thought that brought all the old guilt rushing back…2

…Landing after their precipitous departure from the courtroom, giddy with joy and relief, laughing at the clear impression Susan's lipstick had left on both their faces. Bogg pulled out his shirttail and used it to wipe the marks off Jeffrey's face and his own; then, as he tucked the shirt back in, he grinned, "Congratulations, Voyager Jones."

Said Voyager had never been happier in his life. There's only one thing I'd rather be called, the guilty thought came all unbidden, taking him by surprise.

Now that fleeting thought, all but forgotten until now, had come home to roost. Bogg had made the offer not simply of adoption, but of his very name—his name, something Jeffrey understood in a way none of his friends back home ever could. The self-recrimination was nearly overwhelming at the thought of superceding the one he had from his father.

Sudden awareness of a presence behind him, one that didn't feel like Bogg, brought him out of his reverie, and he turned. "Good morning, Officer," he said to the policeman he found standing there.

The man scrutinized him closely. "That's quite a shiner," he remarked.

Jeffrey shrugged. "Some kids decided they didn't like my choice of friends."

"Is that why you're trying to play hooky?"

"Hooky?" Jeffrey repeated indignantly. "I've never played hooky in my life!"

This elicited a skeptical sigh. "What's your name?" the officer demanded.

Considering his thoughts of a moment ago, what came out of his mouth was only to be expected, but it was as much a surprise to him as it would have been to the older Voyager had he heard it. "Jeffrey Bogg," he replied. It sent an electric shock through him, and he couldn't keep from smiling.

Wrong move; the cop thought he was being snide and took his arm in a firm grip. "Well, then, why don't we just see what your parents have to say about this. Where—"

"Is there some kind of problem here?" Bogg interrupted, just coming up the stairs.

"Is this your boy?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware that he was trying to skip school?"

"School?" Bogg repeated, momentarily confused.

"Yes, Mr. Bogg; school. Or are you one of those who still see it as a waste of time?"

"Of course not!" Bogg replied. "I'm an itinerant handyman," he went on, repeating the cover story they had used in Florida. "He's been traveling with me since his mother passed, and we're rarely in one place long enough for him to go to school. I teach him myself."

"How long will you be here?"

"I don't know yet; we just got here a few minutes ago."

The policeman's whole demeanor immediately softened. "Well, I hope you'll accept my apologies," he said. "I'm relatively new in town myself, or I probably would've realized you were strangers here. If you need a place to stay, the Hennesys have a boarding house across the street. You can't miss it; it's the biggest house on the block. They should be able to tell you if anybody in the area is looking for help."

Only after the man had left did Bogg realize he'd addressed him by name without any introductions having been made. "I guess you told him my name, huh?"

The question took Jeffrey by surprise, seeming to come out of the blue as it did, until he thought back over the encounter and came to the same realization. "Uhhh, not exactly," he stammered, suddenly oddly embarrassed to admit what he'd said.

"Then what 'exactly' did you tell him?" he persisted, fighting to hide his grin, pretty sure he knew what the boy's answer would be. It wasn't hard to guess, considering what he had been pondering for the last few days, and Bogg knew, from something his best friend had once told him, that trying the name on was part of it, though saying it out loud probably hadn't been in the kid's game plan.

His face darkening to an alarming shade of red, Jeffrey confirmed his suspicion.

"Hey, careful; you'll burst a blood vessel," Bogg teased him gently, then squatted down and smiled at him. "It's okay, kid," he reassured him. "In fact, it's more than okay. I'm honored."

Jeffrey's face lit up, then turned thoughtful, and Bogg held his breath, sensing that the moment of truth had come.

The uncertainty was almost unbearable, but the boy choked back his tears. He was not going to cry. He had to make his decision now, and he needed his head clear for that, not clouded with overflowing emotions.

But it was an emotional decision by its very nature. Mom, Dad, what do I do? he pleaded silently. I want this! I still love you, but… It sounded so cold, so heartless, but he had to acknowledge it. …but you aren't here anymore, and he is!

Barely had the thought formed when a feeling of profound peace flooded into him. The need to cry vanished as if it had never been, and he turned back to his companion with a bright smile. "Okay, Bogg; let's make that trip to VHQ."

His face glowing like a million suns, Bogg grabbed the boy in a bone-crushing hug, and Jeffrey didn't care that it made his side hurt. Then, one arm still draped over the boy's shoulders, he unclipped the Omni from his belt. "You got it…Voyager Bogg," he replied with a grin, which Jeffrey mirrored. He'd nailed it, the one thing he'd rather be called…and oh, boy, weren't they going to cause some confusion, he thought wickedly as, hidden from view by the clothing racks, they slipped into the Cosmos.

1 Adapted from Voyagers!: "Merry Christmas, Bogg."

2 Adapted from Voyagers!: "The Trial of Phineas Bogg."