Message-Id: <199801042328.PAA00614@f138.hotmail.com>
From: "Carol Belyea" <carliecalavicci@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chances - Chapter Two
Date: Sun, 04 Jan 1998 15:28:37 PST

Chapter Two

Washington DC
Monday, September 4, 2000

Five a.m. struck loudly on Senator Charles Harrison's ancient clock
radio, beckoning him awake. He moaned, his intentions more set on
going back to sleep, but reluctantly pushed his tired body out of
bed. Feet dragging on the floor, he went to the bathroom and
familiarly passed his hand over the smooth glowing surface of the
light sensor pad on the wall. The lights slowly came up.  He let out a
blaring yawn and looked down at the sink. The faucet had no handles to
turn on hot or cold, but instead had an infrared sensor. He placed his
hands under the spout and a perfect temperature of water flowed out of
the sterile chrome. He splashed the pleasantly warm liquid onto his
gray stubbled face. Blinking, the man looked up and studied his
exhausted self in the large mirror over the sink. He lived alone, had
no family to care for and constantly thought he was just another tired
old man with a job that seemed to be winding down faster than the US
government itself.

Harrison mentally ran down his checklist.

So what have I got? Daily reports from two classified projects I'm not
even supposed to talk about in my sleep. Some scientist is supposedly
lost in time and another is investigating the UFO that they claim
landed in the 50s. Really just a bunch of bull.

The senator did his standard morning routine and after showering,
returned to his room to dress in a usual senator ensemble. Still
shaking away sleep, the senator slipped on his large glasses. He
walked the short distance to the kitchen with sleepy, stone-like eyes
hidden behind the thick, tinted lenses. He quickly put together some
instant coffee. Finally, he headed out the door to report to the
Pentagon.

Upon arriving, he went directly up to the third floor where his office
was located.

"Good morning, Ms. Xavier," He greeted his secretary with a nod, "Any
mail?"

"Yes, Senator Harrison. It's on your desk."

"Thank you." he said with an insincere tone of gratitude. He walked
inside his fairly bland office. The room's walls were almost bare
except for the two landscape pictures decorating it.  Cheap plush
carpeting, cheap desk, cheap chairs, and a standard metallic file
cabinet in the corner. With all the money the government has, Harrison
thought to himself as he looked around the office, you'd think they'd
provide better than this.  Harrison set his briefcase down on the desk
and sat his chair in front of the computer. Typing out a code to enter
into the computer's mainframe, he silently cursed modern
technology. In his old age, he had never really gotten used to
everything being on computers.

He waited until the screen brightened with a picture model of the
actual pentagon and a small window asking him to type in another
code. He did. Letting out a sigh, the senator read the newest
bulletins from the classified projects. He read down the list of news,
some of which was old or tedious. All but one saying,

"Dr. Samuel Beckett returns home."

Leaning forward, he swept his glasses off his face, jaw dropped. "Holy
shit!"

**********************************

Project Quantum Leap
Stallion's Gate, New Mexico
Monday, September 4, 2000

     At three in the morning, everything was peacefully quiet in the
sterile halls of the Project. In the Beckett apartment though, someone
was definitely not a happy camper. Baby Jonathan Beckett was quite
awake, the infant's screams cutting through the stillness of
slumber. Donna and Sam lay tranquilly in bed holding each other when
they both awoke from a captivating sleep.

"Sam," Donna moaned, "your son is screaming."

"This early in the morning he's yours." Sam stated in a fatigued tone,
not opening his eyes.

Donna sighed and got to her feet to fetch their little bundle of joy
and a bottle of formula from the refrigerator. She quietly came back
into the room cradling their son with one arm and a warm bottle of
milk in the other hand. She set the bottle on the night stand beside
her side of the bed and carefully slipped under the covers, still
holding Little Jonathan. Sam was already sitting up, ready to receive
his son. Donna smiled at him and handed little Johnny over to him.

"There you go." She said serenely, handing him the bottle next. She
got back into bed and snuggled with her husband as he fed the baby.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Donna asked, noticing Sam's reaction.

"He certainly is." He answered wistfully. Donna caught woe in her
husband's voice and was concerned.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Sam sighed. "When was he born?"

"May tenth of this year. Why?"

Whispering, he answered her. "I didn't get to see his birth. I'm the
father and husband. I should've been there."

She looked into his eyes and bore into them with great
intensity. "Sam," Donna started gently, "I know and you know that you
couldn't have. When you came back that day in September, even if for a
day, I knew you'd come back again." She fell silent. For a moment,
neither said a word to each other and all that was heard was the
couple's child, feeding hungrily on the bottle.

"I shouldn't have left you."

"And leave you're best friend and mine back in 1945 to die? We all
know you couldn't have done that. It wouldn't have been right. But
it's over now. You're home and the past is permanently the past. Let
it go."

Sam nodded. He gazed into the infant's eyes, identical to his own, and
saw how they sparkled with wisdom and intelligence. The
characteristics made Sam feel very proud and content. Right now, his
son was definitely not much from head to toe, but Sam knew he would
grow up to become an important man. Perhaps one that could take on a
large Project like Quantum Leap. But right now, Sam simply enjoyed the
stage of infancy while he could. He smiled to himself and then to his
wife.

******************************

During the day, infinite metallic corridors at the complex all looked
the same. At six in the morning, anyone could care less. One after the
other, counting the archways, Al Calavicci made his way to the Project
cafeteria. Normally he would just make something of his own in his
small kitchen;  toast, eggs, maybe even an omelet. Today, though, he
couldn't stand the isolation of his apartment and wanted to socialize
and talk to someone; Sam in particular. Alas, being that it was his
first night home, Al thought it best that Sam spend some valuable time
with his new family. So instead of waiting in the loneliness of his
room, he chose his only other alternative. To mingle with the other
members of the Project staff.

The Admiral turned the last corner and came upon a closed door. It
automatically opened, splitting in the center, to omit him into the
Project cafeteria. The fairly plain room had long stretching tables
that ran the length of the room. About half of them were full. Al went
to the glass counter to the right of the entrance and began to choose
the ready-made breakfast that he would eat.

He decided on a waffle topped with strawberries and syrup, then filled
a mug with seeming black coffee. It was mostly the taste that kept
them awake during long nights and woke them up in the
mornings. Everyone hated it.

Al turned around to look for "the little group" and found them on the
opposite end of the dining area. Gooshie, Verbena,  . . . Tina. Oh,
Tina. How could he have lost her to that little twerp of a computer
programmer?

Dismissing the bad blood he felt against Gooshie, Tina's husband, Al
crossed the room with casual, easy strides and took a seat next to
Verbena Beeks.

She flashed a bright smile his way, "Good morning, Al."

"Salutations, Admiral." Said Gooshie, a protective arm around his
wife.

"Hi, Al!" Tina said with her trade mark cheerfulness.

Al grinned. "'Morning, guys."

"And what a lovely morning it is!" Verbena began, "Nice and calm
. . . mentally stable."

"Thank God for that. I don't think we could've lived going on like we
did." He really hadn't meant for that to rhyme. He grinned at the
absurdity of the realization.

Tina giggled. "Hey, that rhymes!"

"Yeah, I'm a poet and I didn't even realize it. Wait, that's not it
. . ." That was on purpose and all four laughed. It felt good to have
this kind of relaxation again. Even if the next step involved the
committee approval and so on. That'll come later though, Al
decided. He continued his conversation with his group, "So, did you
all have fun last night?"

        Verbena answered, "I danced so much, I couldn't walk straight
when we got home."

        "Me too." Tina chimed in, "But me and Gooshie got home earlier
than most people did. It got stuffy in there, ya know."


*****************************

     The ensign stepped out of the helicopter after the long ride from
Washington. There was a guard there waiting for him. "I have a message
for Admiral Calavicci and Dr. Beckett that I need to hand deliver
immediately. Would you be so kind as to escort me to either one of
them?"

     The guard nodded, not wanting to waste his breath screaming over
the loud hum of the flying vehicle. Then led the way to the entrance
of the Project.

     When they were both inside the complex, the ensign was seated on
a sofa as Ziggy was asked to summon the Admiral.


**************************

     "Sam we have to report to the Pentagon in two days. They found
out that you're back and they have questions." Al said while alone
with Sam in his living room. Donna was in Johnny's room rocking him to
sleep for his much needed nap.

     Sam sat down on the couch and asked what time tomorrow the plane
would pick them up.

     "Some time around ten or eleven, I think. The guy didn't give me
an exact time. But Sam, from the tone in that ensigns voice, they're
really serious. We're going to get a hotel suite before the meeting,
so we'll have some time to prepare ourselves before facing black
death." Then Al took a puff from his cigar and blew smoke away from
Sam.

     Sam was thinking, how the hell am I going to explain things I
don't even remember? But he said, "All right. Then we better get
ready. What type of things are they going to ask me. . . and you? I
don't remember anything. Well, except for leaping home a year ago."

     Al blew out another stream of smoke, "I don't know what they have
in store for us. God knows we've been though enough."

     "Yeah, well. . .A hotel suite, huh? Something must be going
on. Do they even believe that I've traveled in time?"

     Al made a doubtful face, "Good question. Since you leaped they've
been asking me where you really are. Maybe they'll want proof that it
did actually happen."

     Donna walked in then. "You two better get moving if you're going
to leave tomorrow."

she let out a sigh. "I'll pray that it goes well."

******************************

     At exactly 9:30 p.m. they boarded the plane and took off. They
were to anticipate a four and a half hour flight. The thought of the
long flight made Sam feel practically air sick. He never did much like
long flights.

     The plane was nice on the inside and almost homey. There were two
small rows of seats and a conference area in the front of the plane
(The conference area was really just a bunch of seats that faced each
other) where Al and Sam sat. The windows had small lovely teal
curtains hanging beside them.

     After a while of silence Al spoke, "Sam during the meeting, I
don't want you to get mad at them or anything. Remember what happened
the last time you blew up at them?"

     Reverse Swiss-Cheese effect kicked in. "Yeah, I remember. They
weren't very happy."

     "To put it lightly." Al couldn't help himself and began to
chuckle. The look on Wietzman's face had been priceless. "In case you
forgot I've been telling them for a while that GodFateTime or Whatever
has been in charge of your leaps. And the Retrieval Program hasn't
been working, so that's why you came home. It was your time."

     Sam sighed, "Yeah, I have to fix that thing." Sam leaned his head
back, bumping his head on the wall behind him. "Ow. Do we have to go,
Daddy?"

     Al huffed, " 'Fraid so, son."

     Sam grinned, "You know that Retrieval Program does need a lot of
work I'm going to start to work on it as soon as we get home. And then
there's the Accelerator that needs some adjustments. Then I need to
update some of Ziggy's data and programs. Then there's Johnny to think
about . . .there sure is a lot to do." Sam was now getting tired just
thinking about all that needed to be done. Amazing, he thought, so
much to do and I've only been here a few days.

     Al watched Sam's face. "Down boy!"

      That statement interrupted Sam's thoughts and made him look up
at the smirking face of his best friend.

     Shrugging his shoulders Al asked,  "What?"

************************

     They landed at exactly 2:00 New Mexico time, which is 4:00
Washington time. When they stepped off  the aircraft, there was a
limousine there awaiting their arrival. The driver, 'Fred, just Fred',
was an extremely quiet man. He introduced himself, opened the door for
them both, and tranquilly drove the two of them to the hotel
anticipated.

     Upon arriving to the complementary hotel Suite, Sam opened the
door took a step inside and held the door open so Al could enter. It
was a nice room. The carpet was a light peach that matched the
bedspreads of two queen beds. Separating the beds was a single night
stand which held a lamp, alarm-radio and a  Welcome' note. There was a
round table with two chairs on either side, in the corner by the
window with hanging peach vertical blinds. Across from the beds was a
cherry amour complete with a television set. Beside the amour there
was a short long dresser that was also of cherry wood. Then above it
what appeared to be a long hexagonal sheet of steel. Beside the door
was a hallway which led to a bathroom and a sink, then a bar with a
small refrigerator beneath it.

     Al walked over to the bed and sat down. He let out a sigh and
opened the top drawer in the night stand.

     "Al, look at the fruit basket. It's huge." Sam said, vaguely
surprised. He couldn't

remember the last time the government had taken such drastic measures
to see to their comfort.

     "Yeah, nice." Al said taking out the standard bible out of the
drawer and flipping though the pages. He looked very focused on what
he was doing, and the tone in his voice caught Sam's attention.

     "Al what are you doing? Do you plan to pray for deliverance from
God and success for this stupid meeting?"

     "No, I'm looking for a twenty." Al stated. That truly confused
Sam. "I once found one in one of these things."

     Sam stared at him momentarily, "Okay." then went over to
curiously peak into the bar to see what was in it. "And look, there's
a little refrigerator, Al. One of those really little ones that you
open with the little key."

     While Sam spoke Al had gotten to his feet, finding nothing in the
good-for-nothing bible, and walked over to the crystal vase full of
flowers that was on top of the dresser. Al touched one of the petals
and began to remember one of his few happy memories before the war had
changed him.

     **He quietly opened the door to their room, but it creaked,
giving him away. The women at the dressing table wearing tight jeans
and a sweater that made her look extremely sexy, turned to look at
him. Her smile was radiant and genuine. She raised a graceful hand to
push back shining black hair that had fallen in her eyes.

     "Welcome home, Al." she said as she stood up and went to him,
wrapping her arms around his neck. "I missed you awfully today."

     God she smelled good! He kissed her and brought his hand out from
behind his back. He had brought flowers home for her tonight, to make
up for the past week that he hadn't been able to come home until she
was already in bed; asleep.

     She took the flowers from him and looked down at them. "My
favorite." she exclaimed for what must have been the two thousandth
time since they had met. "Thank you."

     He kissed her deeply, expressing all his inner feelings toward
the angel in his arms. "I love you."**

     Pulling back, and storing the precious memory, Al sadly stated,
"Calla Lilies were Beth's favorite." Sam did nothing and Al turned
around to face him. "You know, my fifth wife hated Calla Lilies, or
was it my fourth?" Al took a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it
up.

     "Al?"

     "It could have been my third . . ." Al seemed to be trying very
hard to remember that small detail.

     "Al?"

     He looked up with perked eyebrows, "Huh?"

     "Uh, nothing. . . But, we only have two hours before we have to
leave. So we should get ready."

     Al didn't answer to that statement, and turned around to gaze
into the sheet of steel upon the wall. Less than a second later within
the steel, its surface shifted. Then, as if it had always been so, it
converted into a spotless, self-cleaning mirror.

     Al ran his hand through his semi-curly black hair, then turned
around to once again survey the room. He made a smudge face and said,
"It looks like a poodle threw up in here."

     Sam nodded in agreement, "Yeah, a big  peach one."

--------------------------------------