From: nakazawa@phakt.usc.edu (Rei Nakazawa)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative,alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative
Subject: NEW STORY: "Leap Year" (3/6)
Date: 9 Nov 1995 23:28:00 -0800
Organization: University of Southern California, Los Angeles, CA
Message-Id: <47uuu0$q3f@phakt.usc.edu>

	Thames appeared in a forest, near a small river.  There they 
were, his quarry: Beckett and Alia.  He smiled wickedly; he could just 
imagine Zoey's (and his) glee watching them suffer and die.  Perhaps 
she'd even save something special for Beckett for ruining everything.  
Maybe she'd shoot him in the knees first, then the elbows, and watch 
him bleed to death.  At least, that's what he'd do.
	"Gotcha!" he shouted.  Alia looked up at him.  "Hologram at your 
service, baby!"
	"Thames?" she asked weakly, unbelieving.  He smiled at her 
confusion and helplessness.  This would be too easy.
	"Thames?" Beckett asked, looking around.  Of course, since he 
wasn't connected to either Alia's or Zoey's neurons and mesons, he 
couldn't see him.
	"You ready to die, sweet-cakes?" he gloated.
	"What's going on?" Alia asked in confusion.  "Where's Zoey?"
	"Timing," Thames chuckled.  "It's all timing, baby!"  Zoey was 
right.  It all came down to timing...
	"Zoey..."  Beckett gripped Alia's shoulders.  "Zoey's here, Alia.  
She Leaped."  Alia's mouth opened and closed in disbelief.  Thames 
smiled even more widely.  Helpless as a newborn babe.

                     *           *           *

	The door noiselessly slid open.  Thames silently strolled inside.  
The only sound was the slow, relentless beep-beep of a heart monitor.  
There she was, lying across a small table, mostly covered with a light 
blanket in the chilly, air conditioned room.  She didn't look right; she was 
never that helpless before.  Tubes running up her nose and out of her 
arms, she was emaciated, her muscles much smaller from half a year of 
unuse.
	Thames pulled up a chair and sat next to the comatose Zoey, 
watching for the slightest twitch of the eyelid, the barest tremble of a 
lip, anything to show that she was regaining consciousness.  There was 
nothing.  Once again, as it did every time he saw her, rage built up 
inside him, hot and stifling.  It was all their fault!  Even through the pain 
of his torture, what hurt the most was knowing that Zoey was 
somewhere, dying, and he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it.

                    *             *               *

	"It's over, Sam!" Alia said.  She was trapped, and she knew it.  
She knew there was no escaping her fate.
	"It's not over unless we say it's over!"  Dr. Samuel Beckett, 
eternal optimist.  Sad, really.
	"Sam, it's over!  Save yourself!"
	"There's no one getting saved tonight!" Thames cut in gleefully.  
He barely heard the pursuing guards and trucks approaching down the 
nearby road.  "Zoey!" he shouted.  "Get over here!"  With a final wide 
grin, he pressed his hand link and the two poor, doomed fools vanished 
from his sight.

                   *                *              *

	Thinking about it, Thames realized that he was glad he'd been 
assigned to be Monica's Observer.  After all, they had to meet up with 
Beckett again, sooner or later, and when they did, Thames wanted to be 
there when Monica ripped his throat out.  Monica was everything Alia 
should have been, and more.  Without her or Beckett to mess things up, 
he was as good as dead.  Oh, it would be a wonderful thing to see, to 
finally give Beckett what he so richly deserved.  For seducing Alia.  For 
making Zoey like this.  For making him go through a month of pure hell.  
For mucking up time and ruining the entire purpose of the Project.  For a 
lot of things.  Thames would be there.  He would make sure that 
Beckett suffered a thousand deaths...
	Alia.  There was someone else that he would dearly liked to 
have gotten his hands on.  The weak fool, she deserved whatever 
Lothos could dish out and more, much more.  He was only sorry that the 
last time she was punished, Zoey had to be punished with her.  But she 
was gone, no one knew where, and out of Lothos' wide reach.  And that 
was the most infuriating thing about it.  They almost had her.  They 
were so close!

                 *               *                *

	When his surroundings snapped back into a coherent image, 
Zoey had already parked in a small clearing.  She obviously didn't need 
his help; with whatever it was blocking Alia's presence gone, Zoey 
could sense the traitor a mile away.  Oh, this would be wonderful to 
watch.
	The brush nearby rattled.  The fools were falling right into their 
hands.  They emerged, Zoey gave a signal to her driver, and there they 
were, blinking like deer in the headlights.  Zoey stepped forward and 
cocked her shotgun.  She was obviously milking the moment for every 
bit she could get.  And she richly deserved it, too.
	"Run, Sam!  Save yourself!"  Poor deluded Alia.  Noble to the 
end.  It was almost a shame; she was undeniably brilliant when she put 
her mind to it.  It was almost a shame Zoey had to snuff that out... but 
not quite.  "C'mon, Zoey," she shouted.  "It's you or me!"  She pushed 
Beckett to the ground just as...
	Zoey fired.  Alia was just standing there, as if accepting her fate.  
Then she was engulfed in a strange blue light.  The shotgun pellets 
were absorbed into this light as it washed over her.  She vanished into 
it.  When it subsided, a mousy blonde teenager was standing there 
instead.  She collapsed to the ground.  Thames quickly snapped out of 
his shock and began pounding at the hand link, trying to find answers.
	As the other guards began to arrive, the air was filled with 
sirens and excited voices.  Vivian, the guard that helped Beckett and 
Alia escape, was standing by the good Doctor and the girl, examining 
her.  "She was shot!" Vivian said in disbelief, feeling the girl's stomach.  
"I saw her get shot!"
	"She Leaped," Zoey told Thames, though it was glaringly 
obvious.
	"She didn't Leap back!" Thames shouted, still punching the hand 
link's buttons.  "We lost her!"
	"Well, we still have you!" Zoey snarled, cocking the shotgun 
again.  But before she could fire, Beckett grabbed Vivian's weapon and 
fired.  Zoey fell over backwards.  Thames instinctively stepped back.  
She was lying still, horribly still, on the ground.  Thames saw the 
holographic image around him start to break up; he tried desperately to 
hold it, but it fizzled, broke up, and was gone...

                    *              *               *

	When he realized that he couldn't hold the image, he'd sprinted 
out of the Projection Room into the Holding Chamber; medics were just 
carrying Zoey's body out.  She was unnervingly close to death, but the 
Project Head ordered Zoey be taken by helicopter to the nearest 
hospital, which was unfortunately quite far.  Her condition was critical, 
and she nearly died three times on the way.  By some miracle, she 
made it.
	Some of the best surgeons in the nation operated successfully to 
stabilize her condition, thanks in part to several pints of blood and six 
hours, but she was still in a coma that nothing seemed to work on.  The 
Project Head had demanded that she be taken back here to be cared for, 
in the slim chance that she wake up.  She stayed in that coma to this very day.
	If there was one thing the whole incident proved, it was that the 
Project Head had been lying.  Before Alia was brought in, Zoey and the 
Project Head were obviously lovers.  She was devoted to him heart and 
soul; that was one of the reasons she was on the Project in the first 
place.  It was widely known that the Project Head wanted Zoey to be 
his instrument of change and revenge, but he hadn't wanted to risk her 
life.  Then Alia came.  She was arrogant, vain, and immediately set 
about sleeping her way to the top.  She seduced the Project Head, who 
foolishly reciprocated, pushing Zoey out of his romantic picture.  He 
claimed that Zoey never meant anything to him; that's where he was 
lying.  So Alia and he openly carried on.  What neither had counted on 
was the woman scorned.  Zoey manipulated and pushed until Alia was 
"chosen" to be Project Hades' first Leaper. Thames smiled a bit; that 
was the only time either the Project Head or Lothos had been openly 
defied and defeated.
	Of course, once Alia was gone, condemned to bounce around 
time putting the right things wrong, the Project Head realized the error 
of his ways.  He also saw the reasons for Zoey's actions, and allowed 
her to become Alia's Observer, the better to keep watch over her and 
enjoy her loneliness, always Leaping, never stable.  And there was also the fact that no one else at Project Hades was as qualified as Zoey to 
train Alia in what she had to do.  And if there was any doubt that the 
Project Head did still love Zoey, the punishment he heaped on Thames 
for "causing" Zoey's coma dispelled those doubts.
	All that was gone now, gone in a single blast of a shotgun.  
Thames' blood once again boiled.  Despite all the times she'd infuriated 
him, ordered him around, ignored him... he couldn't help the feelings that 
welled up in him every time he saw her in action, the pity he'd felt in her 
rejection, the shared pain.  It was only recently he realized the long 
dormant love he felt for her, something he'd never admitted, despite 
years working with her.  Now he may never get the chance.
	Beckett.  It all came down to Beckett.  Damn him!  "I'll get him 
for you, Zoey.  Alia, too.  I promise."  She didn't move a muscle at his 
words; he was half expecting her to.  But it wasn't meant to be.  He 
sighed deeply, got up, and left the room.  Behind him, if one looked 
closely enough, it could almost seem that Zoey's mouth curled up into a 
hint of a smile.  But, of course, that was impossible...

	"Admiral Calavicci, I have some news."
	Al hesitated, not sure if he wanted to hear this.  Sometimes, just 
to break up the monotony, Ziggy would throw out some random bit of 
trivia.  He often thought she did that just to annoy him.  "Is this news 
relevant to Sam's Leap?"
	"Undoubtedly, Admiral."
	"Is this good or bad?"
	"I'm not sure."
	Al stiffened.  It wasn't often that Ziggy found something she 
couldn't explain.  When it did, though, it was almost never good.  
"You're not sure."
	"I'm detecting an unusual amount of temporal mesonic activity on 
February 29, 1956."
	"That's where... when Sam is now."
	"That is correct."
	"So what does that mean?"
	"I told you, I don't know.  It could simply be due to the fact that 
the day Dr. Beckett Leaped into is February 29, a leap year."
	"What does that have to do with..."  Al checked his watch.  "Uh-
oh, I'd better get back.  There's not much time before that kid goes on 
his rampage."  Al grabbed his hand link and ran into the already open 
Imaging Chamber door.
	"Admiral, I really think you should... never mind."

	Sam glanced at his watch nervously.  There was only half an 
hour before the game, and he was no closer to stopping the oncoming 
tragedy.  The phone rang and rang, but there was still no answer at 
Jeff's house, just as there was none the past ten times he'd called in the 
past half hour.  He slammed down the receiver in frustration.  Al was 
gone, checking up on some data, trying as hard as he was to figure out 
some way to stop Jeff.  After that, he was supposed to check up on him; 
he would've asked Al right then and there if there'd been some way he 
could.  He just hoped that Al was having better luck than he was.  He 
looked at his watch again, as if hoping that the next time he looked at it, 
it would have began going backwards.  But, as he all too well knew, 
time marched on, though not nearly slowly enough for his tastes.
	Finally, Sam grabbed the phone again and dialed Jeff's number.  
The other end began to ring.  "Come on, come on..."  Five, six, seven 
times, but no answer.  Sam slammed the phone back onto its cradle.
	"Anything wrong?"  Sam jumped at the voice.  Michelle stood at 
the kitchen door, leaning against the door frame, her arms folded and 
smiling in amusement.
	"You're back."
	"Just got in.  I needed to get some stuff before I went to the 
basketball game."
	Sam winced at the mere mention of the game.  "Right."
	A long pause.  "So, are you going?"
	"I... guess I have to."
	Michelle smiled.  "Really?  What for?"  Without waiting for an 
answer, for which Sam was relieved, she continued.  "Who were you 
trying to call there?"
	Sam considered, wondering if he could tell the truth.  Who 
knows, she may be able to help him find Jeff.  Then he remembered the 
way she reacted at lunch.  It would take the truth, the whole truth, to 
get her to help him, probably, and Sam wasn't sure he was prepared to 
explain how he knew about what Jeff was going to do.
	"It's Jeff, isn't it?"  Sam stopped, open mouthed.  It was almost 
as if she'd read his mind.  "What's going on with you and Jeff anyway?  I 
didn't think you two got along that well."  She spoke it like she knew 
what she was talking about, though Sam didn't know that she didn't.
	"I'm, uh, a little concerned about him."
	"Why?  It's not like he's going to go crazy and kill people or 
anything."  She smiled a little smile, and it almost seemed ironic, as if 
she knew...  Sam shook away the thought.  There was no way she could 
know.
	"It's just that, well, he's had a hard time."
	Michelle frowned.  "I know that.  I'm his girlfriend... or at 
least, I used to be."
	"What is going on with that, anyway?"  Okay, he was supposed 
to be her little brother, it was time to be annoying.  Maybe he'd get 
some information out of her, a reason for her recent actions.  Or, at 
least, Sam hoped.  "I thought you two liked... getting together all the 
time."
	Michelle threw a handy dish cloth at him.  "Stop that!  It's not 
that there was anything wrong with him..."  She stopped.
	"Then what?" Sam pressed.  "What?  What happened that made 
you..."
	Michelle opened her mouth, as if she was about to answer, but 
she stopped.  Her eyes wandered off him, as if she were listening to 
thin air.  For some reason, it sent shivers up Sam's spine.  _This is 
probably what I look like when I talk to Al.  No wonder people..._  At 
that thought a memory briefly flashed by, a memory Sam knew was 
important.  He tried to grab at it, but it was gone as quickly as it had 
come.  He mentally groaned; just another thing to go wrong on this 
Leap.  No matter, he'd think of it again.  He just hoped it was soon.
	"Uh, look, Tyler," Michelle finally said, "I'm going to the game."  
She swept out of the kitchen. Sam followed and watched as she grabbed 
her coat from off a rack.
	"Hey, what about me?"
	"I don't have time to wait for you," she answered as she pulled 
her shoes on.  "Call one of your friends to take you."  Without waiting 
for Sam to speak again, she picked up her purse and hurried out the 
door.
	"Wait!" Sam shouted.  He ran out the door, but the car was 
already pulling out of the driveway.  Sam attempted to follow it, 
shouting for Michelle to stop, but she was quickly down the street and 
out of sight.  Sam glanced back at the empty garage and groaned again, 
this time out loud.
	"Sam!"
	Sam turned, startled and annoyed.  "Al, when will you stop doing 
that?!"
	"Look, I'm sorry, but I just stopped off at Jeff's house.  He got 
one of his father's guns and he just left for the gym!"
	Sam's heart stopped.  "Michelle just left and took the only car."  
He began to run back towards the house.  "I've got to call someone to..."
	"No time!" Al insisted.  "You've got to get there now!"
	"Then how am I..."  Sam looked around wildly.  At the end of the 
block, one of the late busses pulled next to the curb.  Sam began 
running, running as if his life depended on it, sprinting down the block.  
A couple of people entered the bus, paid their fare, and sat as Sam was 
halfway there.  The bus paused for a couple of seconds more, and the 
driver pulled a lever.  The doors ground shut... and were interrupted by a 
pair of hands.  Sam pulled the doors open, panting.  He patted his 
pockets.  His jaw dropped.  He felt them again, digging deep, his fingers 
probing for any sign of a coin or bill.  The driver raised an impatient 
eyebrow as Sam searched.  Finally, he felt something hard and cold. He 
drew out a dime, which he plunked into the coin slot.
	"You were lucky, kid," the driver rumbled.  "This is the last bus 
of the night."
	Nodding weakly, Sam staggered to the back of the nearly empty 
bus as it ground forward, dropping into a seat in near exhaustion.  Al 
appeared right next to him.  "Whew.  That was close."
	"You're telling me?" Sam hissed.  "How much time do I have?"
	Al checked the hand link.  "About half an hour.  This bus is ten 
stops away from the school.  All you can do now is hope this thing 
doesn't make too many stops."  As he finished talking, the bus stopped.  
An old woman slowly hobbled up the steps.  Al sighed.  Sam was too 
tired to do anything but let his head drop backwards over the edge of 
the seat back.

	Monica looked about the crowded gym.  The bleachers were 
packed with cheering fans; chaos reigned as banners, ribbons, and 
confetti flew everywhere.  "Dammit, where is he?"
	"We know Jeff's here," Thames explained patiently, "but we're 
having a little trouble getting a lock on him."
	"Why?"
	Thames sighed with impatience.  "It's a leap year, darling, 
remember?  The temporal shifts going on right now are messing with 
our..."
	"I don't care!" Monica snapped.  "Just find Jeff so I can make sure 
he goes through with this!  I don't want anything messing it up now!"
	"As you command," Thames responded sarcastically.  Before 
Monica could turn a glaring eye on him, he vanished.

	Sam pulled open the doors to the gym, sweating and panting.  
He looked about the crowded gym, which was still filling, and his 
stomach sank.  "Al!  Can you get a lock on Jeff now?"
	Al shrugged helplessly.  "No can do, Sam.  There's still this 
interference..."
	"Look, I'll look on this end, you try the other end and the locker 
room."  Al grinned just a little, despite himself and the stress of the 
situation.  "The girl's locker room isn't being used," Sam continued as he 
ran into the stands.
	Al's smile grew a little wider, then faded almost immediately as 
he walked through several people and began his search.

	"Thames."  The voice came through his hand link.  He jumped; 
Lothos usually didn't condescend to contact his Observer so directly.
	"Yeah, what is it?"
	"I can now say with 97.3% accuracy the cause of those strange 
readings I detected earlier."
	Brief silence.  "Well?  What?"
	"Do you want the short answer or the long answer?"  
Unbearably smug, as usual.
	"Short, all right?  Now tell me, dammit!  I don't have time for 
this!"
	"Another Leaper."
	Thames stopped cold.  A strange hope welled up in him.  
"Another Leaper?"
	"Is there an echo in here?  Yes, another Leaper.  Most 
probably..."
	"Sam Beckett."
	"You got it.  That's a 92% chance."
	Thames smiled so widely that he thought his face would split in 
half.  He pressed his hand link, and his surroundings wavered, then 
solidified into a totally new area of the gym.  Monica was picking her 
way through the crowd, looking for Jeff.  "No thanks to you, I found him."  
She pointed towards the court, where Jeff was sitting right behind the 
opposing team's benches, squirming nervously.
	"Forget him!  I've got bigger news!"
	Monica scowled.  "What could possibly be that impor..."
	"Sam Beckett."
	Thames smiled as he watched Monica's face widen in shock.  
"Sam... Beckett?"
	"He's here, probably to stop you.  We have to figure out who he 
is.  Has anyone been really goody-goody lately?"
	Monica's eyes doubled in size.  "Tyler..."
	"Who?  You mean that little guy?"
	"Tyler!"  Monica's mind was ablaze with realization.  His 
concern with Jeff, those times he looked like he was listening to thin 
air...  "Where is he?  Can you get a lock on him, at least?"
	Thames desperately keyed at his hand link.  "Come on, 
Lothos..."  The hand link screen flashed.  "Got him!"  He pointed 
towards the back of the gym.  "There he is!"  Monica began weaving 
towards him.  "What the hell are you doing?"
	"I'm going to go see him."

	Al appeared nearby.  "I still haven't found him, Sam.  He's not 
playing, and I've been over the whole stadium.  No sign of him."
	"Look again!" Sam said desperately.  "He has to be around here 
somewhere!"
	"Tyler!"  Sam looked up.  Michelle was waving to him from a 
couple of rows down.
	Sam turned to Al.  "You keep looking.  I'll see if Michelle's seen 
him."
	Al raised a doubtful eyebrow.  "Whatever you say, kid."  He 
vanished as Sam made his way to Michelle's side.
	"You looking for Jeff?" she asked, getting right to the point.
	"Yes!  Where is he?"
	"Follow me."  She led him through the crowds, pushing past 
what seemed to be several hundred people.  He reached forward to try 
to grab her shoulder, as she was often nearly overwhelmed by the press 
of people they were navigating.  Each time, though, she stepped 
forward, barely missing his grip.  Finally, they made it to a pair of 
swinging doors near the back of the gym.  They entered, finding 
themselves in a long concrete hallway.  "Come on."  The two finally 
stopped in front of a large wooden door with "Men's Locker Room" 
stenciled in white on it.  She pushed it open and entered without 
hesitation.  Sam paused, then followed.
	The room was empty; lockers hung open, towels slung 
everywhere, as most of their owners were currently on the court.  But 
there was no sign of Jeff.  Sam turned towards her.  "Michelle?"  He 
watched as she slid shut a heavy bolt on the door and backed up 
against the door, blocking his path.  "What's..."
	"Sorry, 'Tyler.'  Can't let you interfere anymore."
	"Michelle!  Stop joking around."
	She grinned serenely.  "Who's joking?"  Suddenly, she turned her 
head towards her left.  "How am I supposed to keep him here?" she 
hissed to empty air.  Sam frowned.  There was that memory again, 
begging to be noticed.  "Sit tight?  What plan?  How the hell am I 
supposed to..."  She blinked.  "Thames?  Don't leave now, dammit!"
	"Michelle," Sam said sternly, "get out of my way!"  He grabbed 
her arm to pull her away before she could react.  An electrical sensation 
pulsed through his arm.  Michelle's face seemed to waver and distort, 
pulling apart, then settling into someone... totally different.
	Sam gasped.  "Wh-who are you?"
	"I know who you are," the new woman laughed.  "I think that 
gives me an advantage!  Just call me Monica."
	The memory that had eluded him for so long hit Sam with the 
force of an atomic bomb.  "You're another Leaper, aren't you?  Like 
Alia?"
	Monica's admittedly attractive face twisted into a sneer.  "I'm 
nothing like Alia.  For example, I have no qualms about killing you right 
now."
	Sam looked her over.  She was tall and thin, but he knew that 
that was no indication of whatever strength she possessed.  He didn't 
have much time; he had to force his way past her.
	Al chose that moment to appear by her side.  "Sam, I found him.  
He's..."  He trailed off as he saw Monica.  "Who's she?"
	"This is Monica, Al.  She's another Leaper."
	"She's..."  He pointed at her in disbelief.  "You mean like..."  Sam 
nodded grimly.  Al's breath escaped him in a rush.  "Oh, boy."
	"So Admiral Calavicci's here, too."  Sam and Al glanced at each 
other in amazement.  "No matter.  Lothos should be taking care of you 
very shortly, Dr. Beckett."
	Sam's face hardened as he grabbed her arm again.  "I'm going out 
there."  Before he could pull her out of the way, Monica watched as Sam 
was suddenly engulfed in a familiar crimson light.  It overwhelmed her 
vision... When it settled, another man entirely was standing before her, 
grinning like a Cheshire cat.
	"Thames?!!"  she asked in disbelief.
	Thames grinned wider as he looked over his shoulder into a 
mirror, seeing Tyler Wharton reflected in it.  "Honey, we got it made!"

Continued in part 4...