Episode 1011
Eeny Meany Miny Mo II

May 16, 1969
Outside of Hot Springs, South Dakota

Stephen has been at it again, inventing being his specialty. As soon as Sam leaps in he is on the receiving end of Al's sarcastic witticisms. Sam is there to stop triplet sisters from poisoning their future stepfather but things go drastically wrong when Sam starts asking the wrong questions.

Written By: Sue Johnson

Previously on Quantum Leap

Basking in the sun, Sam thinks he's in heaven – that is until Ziggy loses contact for a few seconds.  After reestablishing the connection, Ziggy exclaims that doctor Beckett has changed history 'somehow'.  And so, using Stephen's new device, Ziggy eerily lights up Al's new surroundings and he sees a figure floundering in a murky, dark place.  It is more than the Admiral can stand.

Close to death, Cheryl can hear the Admiral's words to the holographic matrix and mistakes him for being an angel.  She tells Al, that Charles is responsible and then the Admiral sees Sam, battered and unconscious.  Al is seething and he orders Ziggy to return him to the surface where he finds Davenport Jr. toppling another member of the family into the well.  He tries to stop him, and in his attempt loses his grip on the handlink and sends it crashing to the floor, watching as it spews its guts and contact with Sam is lost.

Shivering with cold, Sam regains consciousness and takes in his surroundings.  Cheryl talks of her encounter with angel 'Ziggy' and blames Sam for their current predicament, telling Sam that she should never have asked Charles that question but he can't remember asking any questions.  Feeling a different quantum flux pulling him away, he finds himself somewhere else… somewhere bright, light an airy.

"Welcome home… Doctor Beckett," Ziggy's voce greets him.

"Ziggy?" Sam questions.

"Yes Doctor, who else could I be?" Ziggy replies.

'After riding out Al's snide remarks at being a woman again, I now find myself where I've always wanted to be for so many years—home.  But as Ziggy divulged, I find that once again I'm not back at my Project for real.  By some strange intervention, I've somehow switched places with Terri and am still wearing her aura.  But what of my mission?  I haven't fulfilled my objective, so why have I changed places with her?  She will be down that well shaft now instead of me and unable to do anything about getting out, as I was. Wouldn't it have been preferable to get Cheryl out of her current situation?  And what is Davenport Jr. up to—wasn't he the one that was supposed to have died?'

"Ziggy open the doors at once! I have to see the others immediately!" Sam supplicated as he encroached on the Waiting Room door.

"I don't think that that is such a good idea Doctor. Evidently you have not envisioned the circumstances nor your appearance."

Sam quickly retreated back to the glossy bench and stood aloft, quickly his gaze relocated to the image reflected. He expected to see himself just this once but instead his reflection remained that of Terri. Again his head filled with an immeasurable amount of questions.

"Exactly Doctor," Ziggy hypothesized. "Everyone will see you as Miss Terri Horncastle. I'm afraid that your retrieval didn't quite work as anticipated."

Sam stood and stared at the image mirrored in the glazed surface, a look of immense perplexity clouding his features.

"Uuoooh b-boooy!"

PART FIVE

"What! No questions Doctor Beckett?"

"I'm full of questions, as you so politely put it Ziggy but I doubt that even you can answer them," Sam stated symbolically. He leaned down placing his hands on the bench. "You can answer me this one question though Ziggy: Why am I not here as myself?"

"Well Doctor…" Ziggy started and then paused fleetingly, seemingly in thought. "My assumption is that when the Admiral damaged Master Stephen's new handlink, somehow a displacement of time and space occurred and that occurrence happened just as I was attempting to retrieve you. Don't ask me how, I have no assimilation of that hypothesis."

"So I'm not home? Not really," Sam's expression became despondent and his cheek twitched as he stretched himself upright. "Open the door Ziggy, they're gonna have to face me sooner or later and… make sure Bena—Verbena is at hand. I have a feeling that Al's gonna be needing her when he sees me."

May 18, 1969

Outskirts of Hot Springs, South Dakota

Charles Davenport sat on a tree stump catching his breath after tossing his latest victim down the shaft of the well. Replacing the heavy stone covering each time had a grueling effect and his arms and back ached from the exertion. He guilefully looked about him, just to be absolutely sure that no one was watching his antics. After double-checking and rechecking, his head fell into his hands and he started to sob ardently. He knew exactly what he was doing and he knew it was wrong but he couldn't stop himself—not now that he'd started the ball rolling.

"Why?" he muttered into thin air and between gritted teeth and then he turned his billowing anger into an uncontrollable rage against himself. "Why! Why! Why!—Why!—Why?" With each emphasized word he thudded both of his clenched fists into his thighs. He then mellowed partially. "Oh hell… why did you have to go and ask me that… you just had to go and remind me didn't ya? Ya just had'ta bring up, all o' those forgotten and unfelt feelings… made em stir inside o' me, ya did. Just cos my da has influence a-and stopped me goin' a-and doin' the fightin'," he said as he threw his highborn inflection to the wayside.

Slapping his hands onto his knees he stood slowly and looked casually at the slab of stone covering the entrance to the well.

"And why Tricy? Why did you have to say that to me, why did you have to act that way? You could have had everything tomorrow, everything would've been yours." He stood momentarily in thought before abruptly turning back to the house. "Three down one to go," he said with a snicker as his pace accelerated.

Soon he found himself running across the lawns, past the rose garden, along the well-trodden path made of the same stone as the covering to the well. Striding jauntily up the proliferation of steps to the back door and taking them two at a time he entered the house.

"Stupid woman!" he said aloud. "You shouldn't have stopped me, I thought you loved me and all the time—all you wanted was the money! That'll teach ya!"

Jacqui awaited his return; just the way he had left her, bound and gagged and unable to move. He grinned at her broadly as he stood watching her from the doorway of the sitting room and the sheer terror in her eyes as he slowly approached enlightened his spirits.

'What a good idea of mine it was, to induce everyone to tie each other up. Poor Cheryl though, being the last but she did put up a fair old struggle though. A shame I had to thrash her into submission. Nasty cut that was on her head,' he laughed as he reminisced, stepping ever closer to the terrified teenager.

"So you think I deserve the white feathers do you?" he recalled Jacqui's words in response to Terri's accusation of being a yella bellied turncoat.

Jacqui shook her head; she was horrified that he might do to her what he did to poor Cheryl. The intensity of fear showed clearly in her eyes as she began to shrink away from him. And to think that she'd gone out of her way in high-school to make herself known to him, if it wasn't for her then perhaps her mother wouldn't have felt the need to encumbrance herself with one so young. Her mother certainly didn't love him that fact was perfectly obvious—she had never shown him any outwardly affection, not even in private.

For a moment, Jacqui took her eyes away from Charles to look toward the photograph of her father and mother. She almost lost it for a few seconds when she tried to gasp with grief; with the tape secured firmly to her mouth and almost covering her nostrils, she couldn't breathe in enough to subdue her heartfelt sobs. She felt a deep panic welling up inside and she tried to alert her once playmate who had now turned traitor. But he didn't notice her struggling, he was off somewhere in his deranged thoughts, oblivious to anyone else's needs.

"It wasn't I that instigated my exclusion," he continued to babble. "You can blame my father for that—hell, do you really think I wanted to be a draft dodger—to be stuck with that label for the rest of my natural life? I was, and still am an abettor of fighting for my country. My best friend, Mikey died for his country, how do you think that made me feel? Huh? What I really wanted to do was to fight alongside my buddy but even that was denied me, 'nothing but the best for my boy' my father always said; damn hypocrite, he hightailed it out of Korea in much the same way."

He turned abruptly towards Jacqui, pointing an accusing finger.

"You knew didn't you? You knew all the time that your mother was marrying me for my money?"

Jacqui shook her head vigorously, she tried to speak out but the tape turned her words into incomprehensible mumblings. Her eyes full of fear and despair.

"Answer me!" he spat as he lunged forward and ripped the tape from Jacqui's mouth. "Dammit answer me!"

Jacqui jolted her head backwards at the seething pain of her tearing skin. Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked away from her tormentor. "I didn't know," she answered quietly, moistened her lips and wincing at the sting as her wetted tongue made contact with her raw lips.

She looked up at him and he towered above her, menacing and judgmental, hands on his hips and legs apart. He was laughing at her, harsh, cruel laughter that made her blood run cold.

April 12, 2005

Project, Quantum Leap

"Sam? What the hell?" Al asked befuddled as the opposite door to the Waiting Room opened at the same time as the door to the Imaging Chamber. "What are you doing here?"

"Doctor Beckett has returned to us temporarily," Ziggy announced slothfully, non too pleased that Doctor Beckett had ordered her to open the door.

"How?" the Admiral asked the doleful hybrid computer but didn't wait for a reply as he promptly grasped his best friend by his shoulders.

On hearing Ziggy's announcement, Tina, Beth and Donna raced to the encumbering door that led from the Control Room to both the Imaging Chamber and Waiting Room. St. John waited by the control panel, unable to believe that Doctor Beckett could have returned without him knowing about it.

Verbena was just entering the Control Room as she heard Ziggy's words and ran to join the others waiting by the door. To each and everyone, it seemed like an age before the door opened up – revealing the Admiral embracing… a woman.

"Al, how could you?!" Beth both exclaimed and questioned as she saw the embracing couple. Never before had she known Al to stray but seeing him in the arms of this beautiful and young woman had taken her thoroughly off guard.

Al, taken by surprise by Beth, released Sam and turned abruptly to her. "Beth?" he asked, turning again to Sam.

Doctor Beckett looked at Beth and became as bemused as Al, until he remembered. "Beth you've got it wrong," Sam said, trying to explain flashing a glance towards his friend and then to his wife. "It's me, it's Sam."

Donna also gasped at the sight and sound of Sam, and she swiftly sidestepped behind Beth and Verbena, holding onto the psychologist's clothing in an attempt to regain her composure.

"Yeah, sure it is!" Al said as he quizzically switched his gaze to Beth and then back at Sam.

"But you're a w-woman…" Verbena blurted out in surprise. She couldn't believe her eyes, in all of her time at being and working at the project the only person she had ever seen in the Waiting Room was Sam Beckett. Could this actually be the Leapee, Terri Horncastle? The voice hadn't changed she was still talking with the voice that she was so familiar with, Sam's voice.

"Woman? No!" Al said spinning round.

"Appearances can be deceptive, Doctor Beeks," Ziggy's tonality reverberated throughout the cavern. "I can assure you all that the personage standing before you, is indeed that of Doctor Beckett."

Donna stood stupefied at the woman standing beside Al. She didn't know what to say or do and so she remained hidden behind Beth and Verbena. This certainly was a bolt out of the blue, could it really be her husband standing there?

"Hahaha," laughed Al as he slapped Sam on the back. "You don't look any different to me pal, but I suppose I'd better watch my step."

"Come to think of it Al…" Sam's eyes narrowed. "I do owe you for a couple of times… the pool side for instance… a-and then there's the bedroom. Yeah you sure got your kicks there Al. Do you want me to carry on? I've go a whole list here," he continued. He started mimicking a raised hand holding a list and looking it up and down gleefully as he thought, 'My turn to return the awkwardisms now, Al.'

"Ahhh, pooh-pooh," Al said as he ducked out of the way of Sam's lowering hand.

"What is wrong with you today Al, you're about as much use as a hot knife in a butter dish. First you tease me about who I've Leapt into and the you go and then you go and trash this Stephen's new innovation…" Sam paused as he looked about him giving Al the chance to jump in.

"And I feel it too…" Al began to chortle but then changed his mind as a serious side of him took over. "Totally useless… You know Sam… I have a strange feeling about this Leap. Nothing is as it seems. I-I can't put my finger on it but…"

"Where is this new man, Stephen?" Sam asked, wanting to both congratulate and commiserate with him on his inventiveness of his handlink, and the loss of it. Then his friend's words sank in. "Strange?" Sam asked nonchalantly of his friend. "What do you mean Al, by strange?"

May 18, 1969

Outskirts of Hot Springs, South Dakota

Terri felt as if she were floundering beneath the murky depths, her hands bound, eventually levering herself to the surface gasping for precious air. She couldn't understand why, that, one second she was in brightly lit comfort, warm and cozy and then the next she was somewhere horrid and nasty and cold. Then through the gloom she saw it: a hand, an arm and then the bulk of an ungainly figure as it bobbed up to the surface next to her. She suppressed a squeal in her throat and as she watched, it gasped and writhed, lashing about trying to grasp onto something tactile. Terri flinched at the thought that she might be pulled under if the mass caught a hold of her and so she struggled forward finding the transient ledge that was once Samuel Beckett's only salvation.

"W-what is it?" Terri heard Cheryl's voice screaming.

"Oh th-ank G-God… y-you're o-okay!" Terri supplicated as the iciness of the water spiked angrily at every inch of her unprotected flesh. "I-I d-don't think it's a m-matter of w-what—but w-whom," she stated bluntly as she saw the hand reach out for her, she was surprised at how calm her voice remained but she didn't feel calm inside. Inside she felt as though her chest was about to explode as her heart relentlessly surged the blood through her veins.

"Ch-Cheryl, what h-happened, why are w-we here and where's h-here?" Terri asked attentively, shivering. She couldn't comprehend how she'd managed to get where she was, never mind where.

"Oh T-Terri! You're such a nin-nincompoop!" Cheryl said scornfully. "You d-darned w-well know why we're h-here, if we d-die I'm definitely going to bl-blame you for th-this and for the r-rest of your l-life I-I won't be g-giving you a m-minute's peace," she continued without thinking what she was saying.

Taking their eyes from the bobbing figure, Terri and Cheryl looked upward as the grating of stone above them reverberated downward and the last shaft of light was shuttered out. The two—no the three of them were now in complete darkness. While the remaining echoes died away she felt something grab at her shoulder.

"J-Jacqui?" Terri quizzed in total confusion as the figure began to roll over with the buoyancy.

"H-he's got J-Jacqui t-too?" Cheryl asked ascetically.

"Ch-Cheryl, T-Terri?" a voice spluttered into Terri's ear.

"M-Mamma?" Terri was now totally confused, she couldn't believe what was happening to her. First she was sitting soaking up the sun on the patio, then she was in some strangely constructed room. Walls, ceiling and floor apparently having no beginning nor end, seamlessly joined together in a continuous curve and yet not curved at all. And white, so white in fact, it appeared to be blue. Dazed and confused as she was in this strange room, she felt an inexplicable feeling of inner calm. She felt safe.

And now, where the hell was she now? 'HELL!' she thought, 'Hell hath now frozen over!' what a very apt name for where she now found herself, along with two other close members of her family.

"Oh bay Jasu-us!" Beatrice exclaimed as her long lost native accent was forced upon her in the excitement. "You're ALIVE! And both of you! Praise be!"

Terri reached out with her legs in an attempt to grapple her mother to the dubious safety of the scanty ledge. Her own fingers slipping in her exertions and she plunged once again beneath the surface. Beatrice now became the rescuer as she pulled her youngest daughter to the ledge. Terri needn't have worried on that count, for as she emerged, she saw that both of her mother's hands were free from restraints.

"O-oh m-my beautiful-ful d-darlin's! "Beatrice exclaimed as she recomposed herself. "Y-you d-don't know w-what this m-means to m-me to know that you're s-safe." As she said this she reached out for he second daughter and recoiled slightly when she felt the iciness of Cheryl's skin. "My G-God child, you're l-like a bl-block of ice. I'll n-never f-forgive myself for d-doing this to you b-both!" Beatrice said as she hugged her daughters close. A strange wave of astute sensations ran through her senses as she hugged at Terri. Her body felt more firm, more bulked out than she registered but she shook it off as being the icy conditions.

"I-it w-wasn't you faul-lt m-mamma," Terri volunteered, hoping to ease he mother's guilt, but what guilt? She shouldn't be feeling guilty for what Charles had done.

"Oh y-yes, it was my f-fault h-honey." Beatrice lowered her tone and her voice became quite hushed. "I b-became gr-greedy after your f-father's death, I-I didn't w-want to l-lose w-what your f-father had given me. I saw no w-way out of it until…"

"Ch-Charles?" Terri finished her mother's words.

"He thinks w-we're r-rolling in it, but I-I knew… it was the o-other way r-round. I was beg-ginning to think that having c-come into this w-world with n-nothing, I-I was g-gonna be leav-ving it in the same w-way. I just h-had to do s-something."

"N-no n-need to explain a-anything m-mamma," Cheryl sympathized. "We know h-how hard it's b-been for you s-since pappa died. We just h-hoped that you'd f-found some h-happiness at l-last."

"Ha, h-happiness in-indeed! I might as w-well come cl-clean about it now but I-I was…" Beatrice paused for a few seconds gathering her thoughts. "But I was g-gonna dump him a f-few years d-down the road a-anyway, I d-don't think that I c-could stand it… w-watching him, so y-young and me g-getting more and more g-gray haired every day. I sure h-hope Jacqui is all r-right," she finished off, changing the subject.

April 12, 2005

Project, Quantum Leap

"Yeah, spooky strange. It's just that everything started out so simply Sam, a straightforward Leap," Al said as the two friends walked out into the Control Room. "It all started to go wrong when we lost that first lock on you."

"Yeah, Ziggy told me about that, but first I have to finish this Leap, I know I'm home Al, but I can't spend the rest of my days looking like this."

"You look fine to me Sam!" Al stifled a grin.

Sam looked down at himself; he didn't look any different to him either. "Where's this Stephen, Al? I need a word with him; perhaps he can suggest something that can be done. Will you fetch him while I have a think about this?"

"Yeah, sure pal but I don't think that he can help you any, he's no quantum physicist."

Sam stood firm and glared. "Al!"

One of his determined looks that Al knew all too well. 'Most of the time I can just shrug them off with a sneaky remark but this time, this time Sam can retaliate,' he kept his thoughts to himself and backed away. "Okay, okay! Aren't we touchy today?"

"No! We are NOT touchy OR feely OR anything else!" Sam retaliated.

"Okay, I'm to it," Al surrendered, holding his hands up in midair as he headed off in the direction of Sam's lab. When he opened the door, he found the lab to be empty. 'Just like Stephen to be an absentee when needed,' he thought, closing the door he turned to look at his friend. Sam was out of it, off on another paradox – he remembered from way back when, that expression on Sam's face, he was locked in his own little universe and even a sharp kick in the butt wouldn't bring him out of it.

Al noticed Donna, she looked terrified and as quiet as a timid mouse hiding behind his mesmerized wife and Verbena. "Have you seen Stephen lately?" Al asked as he walked up to them.

Beth pulled him to one side, taking him away from Donna's earshot. "I think you'll find him in his room, he was quite upset with you for breaking his gadget."

"No I'm not uncle Al," Stephen sounded out making Al jump and turn about. Stephen looked at the woman who stood looking up into nothingness, swaying slightly and twisting slightly at the knees. Then he asked, "Who's she?"

"Who? She? Oh she? Ah… well, she's…" Al tried to think up a suitable explanation for an eight year-old. "She's erm…" he looked to Sam for guidance but none was forthcoming. 'Help! I'm stuck here, help someone, anyone!' he screamed silently.

"Is she the Leapee, the one my dad is helping?" the young Stephen asked.

"Yes!" Al said sharply, returning his gaze to the boy. "He—he—shhheee's the Leapee."

"Then what's she doing out of the Waiting Room?" Stephen asked guilefully.

"But she's not a she, not really, I can't explain it to ya kid, but take my word for it 'kay?" Al whispered as he led a beguiled Steven over towards the woman.

Doctor Beckett didn't even notice their approach, he was so lost in his thoughts.

"Ahem!" Al tried to get his friend's attention. Nothing. "Ahem," he coughed again. Still nothing. He looked down at Stephen and the boy looked up at the woman.

"I think you're being very rude in not answering uncle Al," Stephen stated unobtrusively. When she didn't answer, he poked at her with a stubborn finger. "Why are you ignoring us lady?"

"I think I've figured it out Al," Sam said without looking at either of them, still gazing into his own chasm. "I think I now know what's wrong with the retrieval program. If I can be leapt back here as the person I've leapt into, then all Ziggy has to do when we're both in the transitory state is to exchange our bimolecular molecules."

Young Stephen gaped upwardly at Al. An oppressive glean in his eye as he tugged attentively at his uncle's trouser leg.

Al led Stephen away a short distance before he bent himself at the knees and crouched down to the boy's level. "What is it, kid?" he said in a lowly tone.

"She's got my dad's voice," Stephen said with a mixture of intuitiveness and consternation.

"She is your dad, remember from before?" Al instructed, squinting his vision from Stephen and then up towards Sam.

"I realize that, I'm not stupid uncle Al!" Stephen jested, shaking his head. "But…" he paused in thought as he looked over at the woman. "Doesn't everyone usually see the Leapee as my dad?"

Al had to do a double take. 'So, the girls weren't kidding when they said they could see Terri!' "Hmmm…" Al hummed with some uncertainty. 'How do I explain this, when I don't understand it myself.'

Al's mouth opened but he didn't get the chance to get any words out. Before he knew it, Sam was at his side and so he hauled himself to his feet. "So have you found him?" Sam asked.

"Who?" Al answered, perplexed.

"Our new scientist," Sam admonished. He then smiled down at the young boy standing at his friend's side and wondered why such a young child should be in the Control Room.

"Right here," Al proffered, steering Stephen forwards.

"Stephen?" Sam quizzed, his mouth dropping open in awe.

Sam gazed down at the young fellow, his expression betraying a perplexity he had never known before. The boy reminded him of how he was as a child but then he didn't know where his destiny lay; he only knew then of what fascinated him, history, especially the unwritten effects that time could have on the past. All of the what ifs and if onlys, at Stephen's age, he couldn't even surmise where he'd be now. And he smiled inside.

Stephen grinned broadly at the woman's image his father was wearing and giggled. He thought it quite entertaining that a woman should be speaking with a man's voice, especially the voice of his father. He quickly side glanced to his mother, who was still skulking behind Verbena.

"I'm Stephen," the boy announced proudly.

"Such a great achievement for one so… young," Sam smiled congratulatory.

"He's brilliant, ain't he Sa-a—pal?" Al connoted, reiterating the smile given by Sam.

"I know who he is, uncle Al," Stephen reminded his uncle. " But he does look kinda funny though, what's it like being a woman da…?"

The Admiral nudged Stephen into silence, cutting short the boy's words. "What was it you were saying about the retrieval program Sam?" he asked, thinking of nothing better to say in stopping his nephew's next comment.

The scientist's cheek twitched as he pondered over his thoughts. "I was thinking of getting Stephen here," he looked down again at the lad, "to… erm, but now… I don't think it can be done. I was thinking that he was much…"

"Older?" Stephen finished. "I am old for my years, just like you…" Al nudged him again. "…were, or so I've been told," the boy concluded, giving Al a scornful glare.

"I can see that," Sam said as he ruffled the youngster's hair. "But what I have, had in mind is a little too complicated for one so young."

"I can handle complicated," Stephen confessed eagerly. "You do know that the handlink was all of my own planning, though my si—Sammy Jo did help with some of it—but not the complicated stuff, I did that by myself."

Sam appeared unequivocally stunned at the lad's self-assured complacency. Only once before had he witnessed such self-determination and that was years ago, at M.I.T.. Never before had he perceived such resolve and unshakable confidence and he'd never forget that first meeting with Tina Martinez-O'Farrell or Miss Martinez, as he knew her then.

"So Stephen, you think you can do it," Sam stated to the boy. "Come on let’s see what you know, then we'll see just exactly it is you can do."

Stephen's face lit brighter than a Christmas tree as he looked to his uncle for approval. The Admiral nodded his endorsement and Stephen followed his father into Sam's lab.

Halting briefly by the door, Sam turned to everyone in the Control Room. "Take a well deserved break everyone whilst young Stephen and I have a minute or two together." He then entered his lab and closed the door firmly behind him.

Only after Sam had left with Stephen, did Donna recover from her preposed nervousness and only then after a stern glance from her husband's friend. She appeared to be almost dumb struck at her spouse's strange semblance.

"Come on Donna," Verbena said as she patted Donna's arm. "Orders are orders, and we could all do with a break right now."

She directed her friend out and into the passageway that led towards the elevator. Everyone else followed, including the Admiral and his wife, Beth.

St. John hesitated. "That means you too, Eddie," Al said as he noticed St. John lagging behind along with Tina. "And you Tina, just 'cos it's your turn to cough up," he laughed as he saw St. John squirm at his impropriety, knowing full well that he hated being called Eddie. "I'm sure Ziggy can handle things for a half-hour," he grinned at Tina as she past them by.

PART SIX

Following only fifteen minutes of being alone with his son, Stephen, as he had promised his uncle, hadn't said anything to his father about who he was. After reassembling Stephen's device together, Sam pressed the solitary button. When nothing happened, he thought that the gadget to be beyond repair.

"It won't work unless it's in the Imaging Chamber, D-Doctor Beckett," Stephen stuttered, unfamiliar at using his father's name.

"Ziggy?" Sam asked to the empty space that reached above his lab.

"Yes, Doctor Beckett?" retorted the familiar voice of Ziggy.

"Has the controls to the Accelerator Chamber been preset and the retrieval program reconfigured?"

"Yes, Doctor Beckett," Ziggy somberly affirmed.

"Surely, you're not gonna use the Accelerator Chamber…" Stephen paused when he nearly forgot and called him dad.

"Going back there is the only way I can help them to stay alive. Report Ziggy!"

"As Master Stephen has stated, his device needs to be in the Imaging Chamber.  I cannot report on that which I cannot sense, Doctor."

As before, Stephen grabbed his contraption and headed for the Imaging Chamber to place his gadget into the newly constructed cradle besides the holographic linkages.

"Ziggy, for my ears only!" Doctor Beckett asked his own creation. "As soon as you've established contact, will you inform me of Cheryl's condition?"

"Of course Doctor," Ziggy purred into the laboratory leaving the remainder of the complex in silence. "But you will not have to wait. I am still locked onto the bio-signature from when you quantum leaped along with the younger Miss Horncastle. Though now that the linkages have been reconnected I can say without a doubt that Miss Cheryl Horncastle's life will terminate in approximately 15.754 minutes. The Accelerator Chamber is all ready for you Doctor Beckett."

Sam looked out of the glass pane and at the blue orb in the far corner of the Control Room. "How did you…"

"… I know Doctor?" Ziggy finished her creator's question. "Since your arrival back at the project, I have been able to read your brain waves Doctor Beckett… and I must say they have made quite interesting reading."

"Will wonders ever cease?" Sam laughed as he made his way towards the Accelerator.

"I doubt that Doctor," Ziggy answered regardless of the physicist not expecting a reply. "But I do doubt there will ever be world peace," she vocalized sorrowfully. "That is one human trait I cannot come to reason with."

*~*~*~*~*

'Hmmm…' Stephen mouthed quietly as he relinquished his hold on the handlink, 'to save all of this messing about and in case of another accident, maybe I should design a more permanent fixture for the Imaging Chamber?' No sooner thought, he hurried back to the Control Room to ask his father about them.

Not seeing his father in the Control Room, Stephen entered the lab and almost immediately heard a strange noise coming from behind the screen of ionized particle glass panelling surrounding the Accelerator Chamber.

"No! No!" Stephen screamed at the top of his lungs as he saw the proliferation of isotonic breezes starting to swirl about the feminine figurine of his father. As he watched, white static charges passed between the electrodes and hydra-sonic wind swirled smoke-like clouds of ionized gasses into wisps of feathery fingers.

"Ziggy! Stop it now! Dad—no, you can't go, not now!" the boy shrieked. "Uncle Al, uncle Al stop him." Stephen ran up the ramp and into the Imaging Chamber. "Stop it dad, please! Tell Ziggy to stop it, she's not listening to me!" the boy pleaded. But little did he know that Doctor Samuel Beckett had given Ziggy explicit instructions, that under any circumstances she must not desist in the continuance of his duty.

The chamber to the Accelerator, filled to the perimeter with bright white clouds of luminescence suddenly dimmed. Leaving behind a graying mist of ebbing tendrils.

"Uncle Al! Uncle Al!" Stephen pleaded for help and then on realizing that none was forthcoming, he reached for his handlink and pressed the button.

May 18, 1969

Outskirts of Hot Springs, South Dakota

"Quiet!" Charles yelled at Jacqui and abruptly bent down and grabbed her roughly by the upper arm. "Answer me back will you?" he snarled as he swiped the back of his hand viciously across her face, bringing fresh blood to her mouth.

She whimpered in pain as he momentarily released her to untie the strap that bound her ankles. With that chore completed, he dragged her to her feet and keeping a firm grip, he pushed her malevolently towards the door.

"Why are you doing this to us Charles?" Jacqui pleaded mercifully.

"Because no-one around here takes me seriously—they think I'm a nincompoop, a buffoon—take your mother for instance. We had plans and that darned sister of yours has to go and spoil it, everything was fine 'til she poked her nose in… NOW—SHADDAP!" he snapped sharply, tugging and pulling her in all directions.

"By the way… where is mamma?" Jacqui asked softly, trying her hardest to calm him down with simple questions. Being the eldest, she felt it her duty but she was finding it hard to calm someone down, especially now, when she was finding it nearly impossible to keep some semblance of equanimity herself.

"Where she should be! Where else?" Charles exacted as he pushed her forward.

Jacqui stumbled down two of the steps that led down to the lawns at the rear of the house. Her bare feet padding fitfully on the stone path and an owl hooted some way in the distance. She shivered as the cold night air whisked up a breeze that struck straight through her thin dress and wafted up her many frilled underskirts.

"You didn't hurt mamma, did you? And Cheryl and Terri, what of them? Where are they?" Jacqui asked in quick succession.

"And why don't you stop yakking?" he answered with another question as he propelled her onto the lawn with a shove between her shoulder blades.

"Where are we going?" Jacqui quizzed, looking around to see if she could see any member of her family.

"I said SHADDAP!" he growled, thrusting his hands up and punching the air in temper, just missing Jacqui's head by millimetres, making her fall forward onto her elbows and knees.

He didn't give her time to stand; lunging forward he grabbed at her fetters and dragged her face down. She screamed and then she realized that there was no one around to hear her. Their nearest neighbours were hundreds of yards away and only a few days ago had left on vacation. Everything seemed hopeless. She kicked out in an endeavour to get her footing but he was too fast. Striding out and hauling her along as if there was no weight to her being towed behind him. She twisted and turned in an attempt to free herself of her restraints but all she achieved was in scraping the skin from her already sore wrists.

To Jacqui it seemed like an age before the tugging and dragging stopped. All the time whilst she was being hauled along she endeavoured to keep her wits about her and she knew that he was taking her to the far corner of the garden. To the place where they were forbidden to go as children, but they always did. It was overgrown and neglected now, since the death of her father but she could still recognize where she was. The weeds had grown almost as high as the shrubbery and even that had grown too.

As Charles stopped hauling her about, she took the time to take in her surroundings. Long grass had been disturbed in several places, like tacks in deep snow and they all lead to—the well. She gasped when her heart slipped more than a couple of beats and her breath rasped in her throat. The forbidden place. Where, on more than one occasion she and her sisters had been discovered playing and had received a thrashing for disobeying father's orders. It never stopped them though, the fascination of the forbidden was more that the three sisters could endure and the beatings were well worth their many adventures.

Charles grunted acrimoniously as he heaved the heavy stone stopper that topped the well.

"Beatie, yoo-hoo Beatie. They've arrived." Jacqui recognized her aunt's distant voice calling out from the house. "Beatie, where are you?

Jacqui was just about to shout out to he aunt Bridgett when she felt a rough hand clamp over her mouth. "Dammit! I forgot they were coming! Damn relations… you make a sound—and—I'll finish it here and now!" Charles panted. "You here me? Any sound!" as he spoke his grip tightened, digging his fingers into her cheeks and jarring her head harshly.

Scared witless and with difficulty, she nodded her head in acceptance.

His fingers tightened as he pushed her forcibly backwards. "Good!" he growled. "Just make sure you do and keep it shut!" he added, pointing a discerning finger in her direction. Then he returned to his task of shifting the stone.

"Yoo-hoo Beatie… come out, come out wherever you are!" Bridgett cried out. "Jacqui! … Cheryl! … Terri! … where is everyone?"

Immediately Charles turned to Jacqui and she froze on the spot.

"Bernadette, Benjamin and Brendon are here! … All the way from Ireland!" her aunt continued to call out.

"Damn her—why did she have to come now? Before…" he cut himself short as he looked down the half open well.

"Before what?" Jacqui asked. Before you kill us all? Afraid you'll have to kill Aunt Bernadette too?" she sobbed with the realization of her own words.

*~*~*~*~*

"I-it's s-so c-cold," Cheryl's voice was fading as her frozen grasp began to loose its grip on her meager finger hold.

"K-keep her t-talking T-Terri, wh-while I get a t-tighter grip on h-her," Beatrice asked of her youngest daughter, she could feel Cheryl's body slacken as she started to slip into unconsciousness. "I just wish there was more light so that I could see what it is that I'm supposed to doing."

Both women heard a dreadful scraping sound from above and with neither of them hearing the noise before they both gasped in unison. A twinkle of light permeated through the tiny gap and along with it sounds of muffled and raised voices.

"Shush!" Beatrice obstipated as the sound stopped abruptly but through it all she could tell that it was her name being called and then followed by the names of her three daughters. "Bernie! Oh, thank God! Terri, Bernie's here! She's gonna get us out of here!"

The voices succumbed to silence and then the scraping started again, hollow, echoing downwards, omnipotent in its concourse. The breach in the canopy above opened widely and the light brightened, revealing the full moon overhead and the two women squinted at its brilliance.

Terri looked away noticing the cut above Cheryl's right temple was bleeding profusely and spreading, resembling the wispy red clouds that drifted in a summer's sunset. Beatrice gasped when she saw her daughter's pallid complexion and she wiped the dark hair away from her unmoving eyes. However, Beatrice avowedly sighed deeply when she heard her daughter groan, albeit feebly and she turned to Terri.

"My God Terri! What the hell? Look at you!" Beatrice stammered when she saw a strange man holding onto Cheryl's forlorn figure. "Get the hell—get your hands off 've my daughter this instant!" she screamed, slapping Terri's sodden shoulders with an equally sodden hand.

"Mamma?!?!" Terri quizzed, her face contorted with confusion.

*~*~*~*~*

The leap-in took Sam completely unaware, making him hesitate when he discovered himself entering the house, from what presumably was the back door, and not remembering having seen it before. He was greeted by a couple of yokels, both of whom looked strangely similar, right down to their curly, tousled hair and he immediately took them to be brothers.

"Bridgett, whur's 'ol Beatie? Oy tort she'd be comin' a runnin' soon as newed we'd be here." One of the brothers said as Sam entered the hallway. "Benji ere's jus dyin ta see 'er."

'Bridgett? Beatie? And who are these two?' Sam asked himself as he looked curiously back towards the outside door.

"Yeah'um, got a tirst on me tat cud droyn a lake. Whur is shay, Getti?"

Sam suddenly remembered that 'Beatie' must be short for Beatrice. He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing a dress and not of the kind in fashion that Terri would ever wear. And the shoes, sensible ones. 'Hmmm,' he mused, 'I must be the Bridgett in question.' "I've no idea," he answered the two men. "The house seems to be deserted."

"And dat's not da unly ting!" another voice shot out of nowhere but this time female. "Dare seems to bay soyns uv a scuffle in 'ere!"

"Whut's dat Bernie, luv?" the other brother asked as a head appeared from within the room.

Sam's brow creased, clearly reflecting his confusion and he had to take a second look at the woman. On first sights, she looked just like his mother—Terri's mother, Beatrice. 'Either the brothers are playing tricks or this Bernie is Beatrice's twin—perhaps yet, another set of triplets—even,' Sam considered, seeing as though he had not had the chance yet to see himself in the mirror.

Then he remembered what Al had said, which now seemed like an eon ago. 'Didn't he say that Beatrice had two more sisters and two brothers?' he closed his eyes and shook his head slightly in amusement but it didn't last long. 'Wait a minute… where the hell is Al? I never thou—' he closed his eyes in realization. "Damn," he cursed aloud at his swiss-cheesed brain and in frustration as he remembered that he'd sent them all packing, so that he could devise his plan with Ziggy. He began to wonder just how long it would be before Al realized what he'd done. 'He'll be furious but will he understand why I did what I did?'

No sooner said than done, the Imaging Chamber opened up right next to Sam.

"Al, where have you been?" Sam asked without thinking as he turned to the Observer. "Who are these…" he began to question in whispers but instead, saw a young boy standing in the luminescence where his friend, Al should have been.  "What the! Who are you?" Sam swallowed hard, gulping visibly.

Stephen shot back in fright when he saw the scene laid out before him. He tried to speak but the words had frozen in his throat, "Erm… I-I… I'm… err… I think I'll go get uncle Al," he uttered nervously.

"Wull, wull, wull! Getti's gone an' got ersel' all high an' moyty, since shay bin livin' 'ere, shay donit member 'er owun kin!" Bernie declared as she looked satirically towards her two brothers.

"Don't move a muscle," Sam ordered the boy. "The well—I need to get to the well," he stammered as the woman's words jogged his memory.

"We's not be gooin' unywhur!" the two brothers echoed as they stared conspicuously at Sam. "Whut wull?" Ben added contritely as he glanced quizzically towards his older sibling.

Stephen stood statue-like not daring to move; he was totally in awe of his father and at the two bohemian yokels before him. "Yes'um," he replied not feeling brave enough to utter anything else.

"Get Ziggy to fetch Al, you stay right where you are, you hear me? I need Al a lot faster than you can fetch him." As Sam raced out of the back door, Stephen's wasn't the only gaze that followed him.

Brendon stepped forward for the first time and smiled provokingly. "Shay's awee wit the faeiries dat one!"

"A beet touched in da heed—so shay is!" mimicked Benjamin.

"Mus bay all uv da foyn livin—notin' loyk da black suff fur clearin' da moynd 'nd fer gettin' tings in puspectuv." Bernadette declared similarly.

Sam changed direction, suddenly diverting his tracks on the cobblestone pathway outside. Skidding on the surface, he just managed to stop himself from falling over and he hastily reentered the building through the patio doors. Swiftly, he took in the new surroundings of what seemed to him to be the drawing room.

Each side of him, heavy drapes hung festooned from the windows and a colossal oak desk dominated the opposing end of the room. As he approached, his eyes scoured the neat array that was systematically organized across its large, leather tempered surface and rested upon one acutely and devilishly looking, letter opener.

For a second or two his hand hovered over the object. One half of his brain was convincing him to take it and the other informed him that he shouldn't even be considering it. Commonsense prevailed and his hand curled around the cold metal, sheathing it in his palm. His eyes darted about the remainder of the room, he knew in his mind that he'd probably be needing something else but at the moment, he wasn't thinking at all clearly.

He was just about to leave when he caught sight of the ornate cords that held the brocade curtains in position. 'Three or four should be long enough,' he thought as he ran his fingers over their silkiness. He unhooked them from two of the windows; tugging at them to test their strength. 'But then again if they're not?' he quizzed himself after a moment's reflection. Retrieving the remainder from the other window and those too that were draped around the doorway.

Tucking them under his arm and making his way back outside he used the letter opener to trim away the tassels, looping them altogether with several clove hitches. He felt the need for urgency as he heard a muffled scream call out of the moonlit dimness and immediately he picked up his step. Heading into the same direction, he twisted the rope about his arm in swift and natural movements his host made instinctively, borne of years spent winding skeins of knitting wool.

Almost as suddenly, Doctor Beckett stopped in his tracks when he saw a silhouetted figure outlined against the silvery indistinct eerieness of the shrubbery.

"N-no! N-no! Please no! N-not down there, please!" Sam could hear Jacqui pleading but he couldn't see her.

He crept closer, keeping himself hidden amongst the overgrown bushes. The closer he got the apparent outlines turned into semblances of human forms. One crouching over another. The first taking on the appearance of a larger frame and as he drew nearer he secured a stable vision of Charles with his hands about Jacqui's throat.

"N-nooo pl—l!" Jacqui's garbled scream was cut off by the powerful hands.

Her body was already halfway down the well shaft and from what Sam could make out, the only reason she wasn't all of the way down, was the fact that she'd hooked her legs over the small stone wall that encircled the opening.

Doctor Beckett gasped at the sight and as he hastily started to route himself forward the entwined rope slid unintentionally from his shoulder. His presence now known, he couldn't risk the chance of redeeming it and so he permitted it to drop to the ground.

Charles pressed a knee into Jacqui's chest as he rose up and roared, "What the hell do you want you interfering old crone! Get the hell outta here or you'll be next!"

"Not if I can help it!" Sam yelled in response, gathering as much speed as he could muster in such a short distance, Doctor Beckett launched himself onto the back of the now formidable Charles Davenport Jr.

"You ain't got it in ya!" he groaned as he elbowed Sam in the ribs.

"Ouff!" Sam huffed as the air from his lungs was spent and he rolled onto the grass, winded.

"DAD! Watch out!" the young Stephen hollered as the Imaging Chamber door opened almost on top of his father.

"Not now kid!" Sam yelled, looking up at the boy, seeing him but not actually registering his words.

"When's the best time for you?" the blonde haired brute seethed through his teeth. As he sprang to his feet, his hands tugged at his extruding shirttails and proceeded in pulling up the waistband to his pants.

"I thought I told you to stay where you were!" Sam reprimanded, glancing quickly from Charles and back to Stephen.

"And you think I'm gonna do as you say?" Charles snickered as a hand disappeared round his back.

"I was—gonna" Stephen stuttered at the sight of the man. "B-but Ziggy told me to warn ya. Dad, the man—the man's got a gun!"

"Then you're more stupid than I thought!" Charles scoffed as he pointed the barrel of a revolver down into Sam's face.

Stephen was horrified at the sight of the gun pointing directly at his father, he didn't want to witness what would or could happen next, and he deftly closed the link to his father's time. Sam never saw the Imaging Chamber door close, he was too preoccupied in striving to pacify his aggressor.

Sam held up a defensive hand. "Charles, y-you—you really don't wanna do this."

"I wasn't planning on using it, no." Charles closed one eye as he aligned the barrel. "But if needs must… I will," he said as he side-glanced at the well and at a struggling Jacqui.

Jacqui had now managed to raise herself almost to being horizontal. The shredded skin at the back of her calves still braced against the small wall on one side and her tethered hands grappling for dear life at the other. Sam could see her whole body quivering as she attempted to hold this position long enough to gather the strength to hoist herself out of danger.

"You don't wanna kill anyone just for…" Sam paused in thought. "Why are you doing this Charles?"

"'Cos… erm…" Charles looked away from Jacqui uneasily. "Because something told me that I should get in early. Something in your nieces' attitudes—something one of em said." He shook his head regaining control over his emotions. "Did you know they were planning on killing me? Were you in on their little plot?"

"Who said what, Charles?" Sam asked as he recalled Cheryl's words when he was down in the well and in the aura of Terri.

"You heard her—goddamn it—you were there!" Charles writhed, his grip tightening on the trigger.

"Indulge me?" Sam suggested with a grimace. The owl hooted again, as if on cue.

"You heard her! Terri all but called me a yella bellied turncoat, a coward of all things, me a coward—huh, that's a turn up for the books! I should coco! From what I've heard of their father—he was more of a chicken sneak than my father ever was. It was Henry Horncastle's suggestion that they hightailed it from Korea."

"He's got that wrong Sam!" Al gesticulated as he superimposed himself in front of Charles.

Al's voice startled Sam, he never expected his friend to appear so soon but was eternally thankful that he had. Sam sighed deeply at seeing Al but mostly in relief as he saw Jacqui roll onto an adjacent patch of unkempt grass and aptly out of range of the well.

"Great, Ziggy's comin' up with some current data, Sam," Al said as the image of Ziggy blossomed up from the handlink.

Ziggy's mouth moved but no words were forthcoming. Sam looked to his friend for an explanation.

Al's brow creased, trying to read Sam's expression without him having to compromise himself with words. Sam's eye widened as he nodded towards the silent handlink and the quivering projected image.

"Oh, you mean the inarticulate Ziggy?" Al pointed a cigar laden hand towards the fluctuating eminence and Sam nodded. "Nice ain't it? Though, I can still hear her, dammit, through these darned speakers. Must be a lose connection or somethin' from when I dropped it—Stephen'll fix it," Al continued as he shook the handlink and chortling as Ziggy scowled in disapproval.

Ziggy's mouth moved again and from her disembodied countenance, Sam could tell that she was somewhat irked.

"Now she's telling me that she's gonna disconnect if I don't behave," the observer chuckled. "As if!" he snickered and sucked in deeply from his cigar.

Sam's eyes rolled as he looked up to the heavens and as he lowered his gaze the holographic image flickered and started to disintegrate. "Al!" Sam blurted out as his eyes widened in shock.

PART SEVEN

"Sorry, Zig. You know I don't mean it, not really," Al apologized before Ziggy's image disappeared entirely.

Nervously, Sam looked towards his assailant and coughed. "A frog in my throat," he explained pitifully and was immediately relieved when Ziggy reaffirmed contact.

Charles Davenport Jr. scrutinized Doctor Beckett suspiciously and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "What's going on here?" he questioned, keeping a tight reign on the gun.

"Just a little jittery," Sam explained. "Wouldn't you be with the barrel of a gun pointing your direction?"

"Suppose I would be…" Charles proffered halfheartedly and then changed his tone severely. "But I'm not—I'm at this end—for a change!"

Sam shrugged and smiled equidistantly, not wanting to aggravate the situation further.

Al appeared to be listening to something other than Ziggy's image. "Ziggy's sayin' that you should ask blondie here how his father obtained his rank in the military!" the Observer prompted, and then seeing Sam's current predicament he leaned in for a closer look. "I doubt that pistol will even fire," he established. "Ah, a Browning 9mm FN GP35, looks like it ain't even been cleaned in years, ask him where he got it and I bet you it's one of his father's souvenirs."

Sam clenched his teeth. "Great Al," he whispered towards his friend. "It's easy for you to say! You're not the one it's being pointed at."

"Who are you talking to?" Charles asked as he regarded Sam. "I know you're talkin' to someone, now who is it, you're not wired are you?" He looked about him to see if there was anyone close enough to be in range of Bridgett's voice.

"Of course not," Sam laughed nervously. "I've never been in a situation like this before and I was just erm… thinking of something to erm…"

"Look at it Sam…" Al broke in leaning in further and pointing to the back of the gun. "The firing mechanism's rusted and there are even cobwebs inside the barrel. A mean SOB in its heyday though."

"Charles…?" Sam started to ask only to be interrupted by his friend.

"You know something Sam? I've been feeling it all along and now I know what it is. Junior here reminds me of an ensign on my first tour in Nam. He didn't keep his weaponry clean either. I told him more than once that he should keep his equipment clean and well oiled, treat it like a woman I said…"

Impatiently Sam rolled his eyes, asking his friend to stop, he didn't have the time or the inclination to hear another of Al's stories on how to handle a woman. "Oh boy!" Sam mumbled before ascertaining his eyes towards Jacqui she was now struggling to get out of her bonds and Sam wished that he could lend more support.

Covertly Al contained his feelings, nodding his head in acknowledgment to his friend. "I know Sam, but you won't be saving anyone unless you down this nozzle first! Snap to it Sam and ask the darned questions!"

Continuing his conversation with junior. "Charles?" Sam repeated, giving Al a stern glare. "How did your father rise through the ranks of the military?"

Charles looked at Sam thoughtfully but didn't waiver in keeping his aim true. "The usual, college grad – automatically became a Commissioned Officer. Why do you ask?"

"Don't answer him Sam, let him stew," Al piped.

"So he didn't start at the bottom then?" Sam deliberately evaded answering his question.

"Ask him his rank when he was in Korea, erm—say 1950, Ziggy's come up with some info on that era," the Observer prodded.

"Why are you asking me this?" Charles repeated.

Again, Sam didn't answer but instead asked him Al's other question. "1950 Charles, the Korean war, do you remember your father's rank then?"

"Yes, of course I do, Brigadier General," Charles professed.

Al raised an eyebrow. "He IS lying Sam, Charles Davenport Sr. never attained a rank higher than Lieutenant Colonel and in 1950 he was of the rank of Major," the Observer rectified. "Now ask nozzle-head what happened in Kimpo at the Han river border."

"What happened in Kimpo at the Han river border?" Sam repeated.

"I don't recall," Charles said without conviction.

"Now ask butt brain why his father neglected to mentioned a 1st Lieutenant Harry Horncastle saving his life from the mines hidden in the salt pans of Blue Beach, the landing at Inchon."

Sam's brow creased at the recollection of Horncastle's name.

"Go on, ask him Sam, I think someone's been tellin' porkies here!"

"Hmmm… Charles? Did your father ever mention how my… erm," Sam hoped he was getting it right. "…brother-in-law, Henry, saved your father's life in a minefield at the Inchon landings?" Sam asked, cutting Al's question shorter than his friend would have preferred.

Charles' face started to redden and his hand holding the pistol began to lower.

"You're getting to him Sam, keep it going—keep it going," Al gleefully replied. "Now tell him how Henry came by his injuries, Sam."

Doctor Beckett engaged the Observer with a troubled expression.

"The minefield Sam…" Al flapped his arms about in dismay. "…to save Davenport Sr., Horncastle deliberately walked into the minefield. Sometimes I despair of you Sam, I really do."

'What!' Sam mouthed.

"You're not the only boy scout to come out of the last century ya know. Now get on with it or they'll be pullin' carcasses outta that well instead of the women!" Al stated, shocking Sam back to reality.

"B-by w-walking into that minefield, H-Henry…" Sam cleared his throat and closed his eyes to compose himself. "Henry… what I'm trying to say is… Henry Horncastle wasn't the coward you're making him out to be. Maybe your father didn't tell you the whole story."

"I didn't know…" Charles' voice trailed off in consternation. "I-I really didn't know."

"You've hooked him now Sam, give the nozzle everything he deserves!" Al advised as he punched the air with a fist.

"Or perhaps, you were too young to understand it fully," Sam added, commiserating with the youth's feelings. "Charles, give me the gun. What's past is done with, you can't alter anything with violence."

The Observer gleaned a discerning glare towards Sam. "Whatcha doin' Sam! This blockhead doesn’t deserve your sympathy! Noodle him Sam!"

Doctor Beckett ignored his friend's advice and reached out a hand towards Charles. "As I've already said you can't nullify bad feelings with even more animosity," his words were directed towards his friend and Al wiped a perceptive hand across his brow.

Shakily, Charles lowered the firearm but as Sam was about to take hold of the barrel, he suddenly raised the revolver again in anger. Sam shot back in surprise.

"I can't do this! Whatever I do now, I'll be left with nothing! My precious father has made sure of that. For over nineteen years he's had a secret and when I found out about his little liaisons with—with Beatrice—he swore he'd write me out of his will unless…" Charles was almost choking on his words. "…unless I kept my mouth well and truly shut and married her."

He turned towards the well and glanced down at a terrified Jacqui, but he kept the gun pointed towards Doctor Beckett.

"I was gonna take this…" Charles reached into his pocket and took out a small green bottle and held it up. "…but Terri made me realize that I had more to do before I committed the final act—I needed revenge first. Beatrice wasn't supposed to get hurt at all. She was the pawn, don't you see. I planned this right down to the minutest detail but I didn't plan on the humiliation and everything started to backfire."

"Uh-oh Sa-am, the sisters didn't kill him after all, it was su-i-cide," the Observer endorsed.

"Don't you see," he waved the gun at Jacqui. "I couldn't marry any of you, it would be incest. I'm your brother for God's sake."

Jacqui gasped.

"I realize it now, why my father was so adamant at me not seeing any of you." He waved the gun about nonchalantly. "Henry Horncastle wasn't your father! Oh how the high and mighty will fall when this gets out! Beatrice was supposed to take the blame for my death! I'd sooner face death than live a lifetime with my father's lover. But now…" he hung his head in despair.

"You mean that your father, Charles Davenport Sr. is their father too?" Sam asked, turning a bemused stare towards Al.

"Go figure!" Al stipulated as he waved a disgruntled hand in the air.

"Yes!" Charles replied resolutely. "Their sordid affair had been going on for years. Even whilst my mother…God rest her soul… was on her death bed."

"But you mother isn't dead Charles!" Jacqui broke in.

"Oh—yes she—is," Charles' voice rose with emotion. "The present Mrs. Davenport isn't my mother—I've just figured that out too. I always wondered why, that after seven years she should suddenly come out of the sick room, all fit and well. I was never allowed in there you see and until now I'd always thought that my memory of mother had let me down, I never imagined as a kid that she could possibly be another woman."

"No wonder the kid's gone off the rails," Al deliberated as he swept a fitful hand across his face.

"Your father's got a lot to answer for," Sam determined. "That is if your conclusions are correct?"

"Of course they're correct—what do you take me for, an imbecile?"

"You could ask him," Doctor Beckett proposed.

"Face him, after all the lies and deceit? You think I can look up to him now? I'd sooner die first!" he speculated as he flipped the top off from the little green bottle.

In two strides his face was inches away from Sam's and he could feel his breath and see the insanity in his eyes. "But you can't be sure, everything you're saying is just a shot in the dark, what proof do you have?" Doctor Beckett surmised.

"Sam! He's losing it Sam!" Al forewarned his friend.

Charles blinked a few times and glanced to the side, as if he were listening before returning to challenge the physicist head on. He wobbled his face before Sam, waving the gun and the bottle in front of Sam's eyes. "Three beautiful sisters are all the proof I need and even their companionship was denied me—it was so lonely in that great house, no mother to nurture me, a father that was never there. It would have been so nice to have others around to play with—don't you agree Sam?"

"Sam?" Doctor Beckett queried the blonde haired youth, giving Al a quickly placed glance and seeing the same astonishment in his friend's face as he was feeling. "Help me out here," he addressed to Al, even though he was looking at Charles. "Who is Sam?"

"You are," Charles acclaimed as he cocked his head to one side. "I knew you weren't alone, who is he, this friend of yours?"

"Who?" Sam looked about him superfluously.

"That flamboyant cad, standing over there."

Through the corner of his eye Sam could see Al's reaction and so he shot his friend a warning glare. "Oh him, you mean you—you can see… him?" he pointed indiscriminately towards Al. "Oh he—he's just someone that pops up when I'm in trouble," Sam laughed heartily. "You know us Irish, we all need our leprechauns to help us out."

"Told ya green was my lucky color Sam," Al inveterated, dropping his cigar stub to the ground and planting a foot on the now invisible remnant.

Charles laughed, neither Sam nor Al knew if his merriment was at Sam crack at the mischievous pixie spirits or if he was laughing at Al's comment about his clothes but both were pleased that they'd enlivened the youth's shattered spirit.

"Can I—that is, if you don't mind, can I just have a quick word with my assisting leprechaun?" Sam flashed Al a sneaky wink.

"Sure… go ahead and talk away," Charles permitted as he swept a courteous hand to the side and stepped back, allowing Sam to stand.

Sam smiled meekly. "Thank you," he said sincerely as he stretched his legs and strode over to where Al stood.

"He can see me!" Al announced in a low voice.

Sam mimicked Al's tone. "I know… but it can be used to our advantage. If I can get him to talk to you, then maybe you can distract him enough so that I can get that darned gun away from him or failing that, give me enough time to fetch that rope." Sam nodded in the direction of the small clump of bushes where his makeshift rope lay fallen. "Press the button, get Ziggy here."

Al depressed the button that brought up Ziggy's image.

"What does Ziggy say about the women in the well? How much time do they have?" Sam whispered.

"Ziggy says that you can speak to her directly, she says she's not deaf."

Sam turned a discerning eye towards Ziggy, "Cut it out will ya, don't you think we've got enough to contend with, without you being a major pain in the buffalo, princess."

Ziggy pouted and Sam frowned, wondering where on earth that dictum had sprung.

"Well?" Sam waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ziggy talked silently to the Observer. Al relayed the hybrid computer's words whenever Ziggy paused for a dissimulated taking in of breath.

"Cheryl's already unconscious… that laceration on her head is hemorrhaging profusely and… she has internal injuries… coupled with hypothermia… it could be a dangerous combination Sam."

"You don't have to tell me how dangerous that combination can be—how long?"

"A few minutes," Al blanched. "4.47 to be exact."

Sam shook his head and asked quietly, "Distract him will ya? I don't think I have time to grapple him for the gun—you are sure it won't fire?"

Al nodded, reassuring his friend as he walked backward towards the deranged Charles.

"My friend has something to tell you… about your mother I think," Sam told the young man, raising his eyebrow knowingly at the Observer and dobbing his head in apprisal.

"Good—ee," the young man joyously enthused, rubbing his hands together. "I've never spoken with a leprechaun before."

Sam backed away, slowly at first. Then turned suddenly and stomped over to where the forsaken cords lay. Scooping them up from the ground, he unraveled one of the loops from the chain and hooked it over his shoulder. He hoped that the chain would be long enough now that one link was missing.

He glanced astutely towards his friend who was engaged in a fervent discussion. He noticed that as he maneuvered his way around to the well Al kept changing position so that Charles was facing away from Sam's locale.

Doctor Beckett uncoiled the remaining loops of the hitched-up lengths of cord and finding a sturdy but substantially unrestricted tree stump close to the wall to the shaft. He crooked one end over it.

Lowering the rigging down into the dark depths, Sam leaned over, seeing nothing but blackness he shouted, "Is everyone okay?" His voice took him quite by surprise; he wasn't expecting it to bounce back at him so eerily.

"W-we are, b-but Cheryl's n-not!" came the hollow reply.

Sam recognized the voice, "Beatrice, listen to me! Is she still breathing? Can you check her pulse?" A quick glance at Al told him that he had Charles well and truly under control and so decided as it wasn't yet needed to coiled the spare length of cord and leave it by the entrance, just in case.

"C-can't, moy f-fingers bay ta numb!" Beatrice announced, alarmed.

'Darn!' Sam thought as he kicked off the shoes and peeled away the confines of the inflexible fitting camisole jacket. He cursed Bridgett's dress sense as he hitched up the tight skirt and hooked one foot into the first rung of the makeshift ladder. Lowering himself down he felt for the next rung and then the next.

He was swinging now and in the eerie darkness cast by the position of the moon his stomach churned. All of his fears swept over him at the same time. He closed his eyes and gulped. Hanging on for dear life as he lost all sense of perspective. The stench of his own fear drowning out the rankness of the foul stagnancy below. His pulse rate rhythmed that of the echoed plopping that seemed to surround him, enticing him to take a tighter grasp on the swaying braids.

'Get a grip Sam!' he told himself as he felt the perspiration begin to trickle down his face. His hands were clammy and he feared he would lose his grip on the silkiness of the cabled skeins. Nervous and tense as he was, Sam managed to reach inside and find some inner strength and calm. Wherever it was, it was well hidden and it certainly took its time in surfacing. He breathed in deeply and took measure of his newfound resources. He looked down for his next foothold—big mistake, his head began to swim, every which way imaginable.

Thinking, he devised schemata that could deceive his senses. He closed his eyes and began to pencil in his own surroundings. A haystack; each bale having its own strapping. He forced his imagination to feel exactly what he was painting and soon the silky cable became the rough hemp cord in his mind. He was atop the haystack and climbing down, the sweet smell of the meadow filling his lungs. Instead of the eerie moonlight the warm ambiance of sunlight filtered through his closed eyes and filled his senses with tranquility. Sam was in heaven.

Lowering his weight he wheedled his toes into his ensuing foothold, then the next and into the final loop. His toes permeated the icy water but his mind painted in the lagoon at the bottom of the foothill. The subterfuge had worked, he was down.

As he opened his eyes, the fist thing he saw was the ghostly portrayal of the three women, huddled together with Cheryl in the middle. Her mother and sister on either side holding her head above the water, best they could.

"B-Brid-dgett?" Beatrice inquired, surprised at seeing her now well-to-do sister in such a state.

'First things, first,' Sam thought as he surveyed the scene. Steadying himself with a hand on the slimy wall he wedged one foot onto the narrow ledge but kept a firm grip on the silken trapeze, giving him the freedom to remove his other foot from the loop.

"Terri, support you mother whilst I get her untied," Sam asked his once host.

"O-okay," Terri shivered, reaching out to her mother.

"Oh moy G-Got! Cheryl!" Beatrice screamed as Cheryl slipped under the water. "Grab her T-Terri dunna yous moynd 'bout moy."

Terri made a grab at Cheryl's clothing and almost lost her finger-hold on the narrow ledge, she grunted with the strain as she struggled in hauling her sister back to the surface.

Legs splayed and with his back pressed firmly against the slimy wall Sam leaned forward and grasped at Beatrice's wrists as she too began to plummet beneath the surface.

"Gottcha!" Sam grimaced as he took the weight of Beatrice with his free arm. "Hold on to the rope whilst I untie you," he ordered and Beatrice willingly obliged.

"Yoo-hoo Beatie! Getti! Yous ta doyn dayr huns? Oy's git da scowndrul, oy's be getin' im oyl toyed up so's oy 'av."

Sam looked upward but from the silhouette Sam couldn't make out who it was. From the accent it was either Benjamin or Brendon. 'I definitely need a translator! Or even better an interpreter!' Sam thought as he strained to hear and failed to understand what was being said. "We're down here!" he shouted. "We're all down here!"

"Hung un, oy cudna make heed n tayul uv whut Jacqui sez, so's oy's a cummin doyn."

The opening to the well darkened as the brother started his descent. Sam marveled at the speed and likened him to a monkey on a greasy pole.

"Hold it there!" Sam shouted up to the brother. "It's getting a bit cramped down here and if you're not careful you'll have us all back in the water."

"Don! Tank Got dat you're 'ere, we wuz startin' ta git a bit angshus." Beatrice exclaimed with relief.

The brother twizzled himself around, jamming his cobbled shoes against the sides of the well and leaning on the opposite side to Sam. "Dunna bover Getti, oy ken it moy bay unetical, but it bay faster." Brendon took over from Sam and started tying the rope-ladder onto Beatrice's tethers. "Up shay gowes, tug awoy Ben."

"Haeve-ho!" Benjamin shouted down from above and slowly Beatrice was raised out of the water.

"Yous turn necst girlie," Brendon reached out to Terri.

"No! No! Let Cheryl be next, I can wait, she needs help more!" Terri pleaded to her uncle.

Sam felt helpless; wasn't he here to do what the brothers were doing? How many times had he wished for help when he needed it? He'd lost count. But now that he had help, he felt insignificant and unneeded. Unwanted.

With Beatrice safely up top, Benjamin lowered the rope. Brendon caught hold of the back of Cheryl's dress and dragged her to the center.

"She's gonna need medical attention as soon as we get her out maybe I should go up after to see what can be done." Sam offered.

"Since whun av yous bin uny gut wit da medicul twaddle Getti? Yous allus usedta bay passin oyt wit da blut! Laeve allu dat ta Bernie shay knows aboot dem tings." Don sounded adamant, but Sam hadn't a clue what he was talking about, never before had he encountered such a strong dialect.

Sam leaned back against the wall and sighed, letting the brother strut his stuff. He looked up at the awaiting Benjamin and wondered how Al was coping with the manic Charles. He'd half expected Charles to stop him descending into the well and again he wondered what the conversation was about that could've contained Charles' hysterics.

Soon, even Cheryl's limp frame was hoisted out into the open air and Sam wondered why – that if he wasn't needed anymore, why hadn't he Leapt? He hated being in a situation where he couldn't be of any help and he began to long for the familiar tingle that the Leap would bring. But still he remained.

Sam reached down and started to pluck Terri from the water. "Come on, time we got you outta there."

When, for the second time in Sam's presence, the rope lowered Terri spoke up, "You g-go n-next a-aunt B-Bridgett," she said, shirking off Sam's hand.

"No, no! No!" Sam countered. "You've been in the water far too long as it is."

"B-but I h-haven't, I-I…" Terri started to say but she stopped and looked straight into Sam's eyes, gingerly, she shook her head.

Sam gazed at her sympathetically, knowing fully the way she was feeling. She wanted to tell someone of her ordeal, her memory loss and how the hell had she arrived to where she found herself when he'd Leapt out. But she couldn't. And he knew why. He'd felt the same thing once and to him, it seemed to have taken place a lifetime ago.

"But whut?" Don quizzed as he stared at his niece strangely.

Terri closed her eyes and again slowly shook her head, it was a movement that was deliberate but not forced.

Sam knew that expression of bewilderment that was now showing on Terri's face, he'd worn that same expression so—so many times. Reaching out, he slipped the loop over her head and steadied her whilst she drew her arms through. She grasped at both sides with her tethered hands gathering both cords together in front of her face.

"Whut's goyng on doyn daer? Whut da divil's taykin yous all so loyng?" Ben proclaimed, his voice echoing down and around the long, vertical, tubular shaft and lending itself to making the ambiance all that more metaphysical.

"Coming right up," Sam shouted, his head jerking upward to the obscured circle of light.

"Haeve-ho!" Don announced up to his brother. "Shay's all yours."

Slowly, inch-by-inch Terri was raised, until at last, she too was out of the dank setting.

The rope dropped and Brendon grabbed at it first. "Cummun Getti, git yer heed fru," he said holding out the ring of braid to Sam.

Sam shook his head vigorously; he didn't want anyone to see his nervousness when he ascended. "After you Don, you've done more than enough. I could never have done it without you or your help," Sam smiled uneasily in the half-light.

PART EIGHT

"Tankies Getti, oy nuver tort yous curd dat much."

Even in the darkness, Sam could feel the hotness of Brendon's embarrassed blushes. "Go on up with ya," Sam said, slapping Brendon's back and secretly hoped that he'd take the hint.

"Da agud furst," the brother joked as he prodded Sam in the ribs.

"Eh," Sam stifled his ignorance, cupping his knees with his hands in exasperation.

"Ladoys furst, age afore beautay," the brother prodded again.

"Don… don't be so stubborn, just get up there and then you can help Ben hoist me up, I don't think I can make the climb by myself," Sam stated emphatically.

"Okays, ef yous says so." Don made a grab for the rope and as deftly as he'd descended he hauled himself up, hand over hand without using his feet.

Taking a loose hold on the rope to stop it swiping him in the face, Doctor Beckett sighed to himself, "At last." He watched until Brendon was almost at the top but he couldn't describe what happened after that. A moment later all he felt was something knocking him off balance and a second later being wetted through as the tidal wave hit him.

He clung on desperately as the freezing coldness of the murky water spiked at his lower torso and once again he could feel the ice crystals that had not yet melted. "Ah-ahhhh," he wheezed with shock when his breath was forced out from his lungs. At that very moment he didn't know whether to look up or down but knew instantly that something was very amiss.

"Whut's happunin'," Benjamin yelled down from the opening above.

Sam couldn't reply, he was too preoccupied with what had taken place himself. As Brendon's head bobbed to the surface he could hear him faltering, "Hulp," he went under again, his arms flailing at nothing. He resurfaced; splutter—spit—gurgle—splutter, "Oy canna swim!"

Sam clearly understood those last words and he immediately released his grip and hung one handed, turning around and grappled unsuccessfully in the filth after his brother. After Brendon went down for the third time Sam, just managed to grasp the back of Brendon's shirt and lugged his head out of the water.

With a mouth full of water Brendon started to choke, retching with the taste. "Oy s-slipped!" he gurgled, gasped and snorted.

"Grab onto me!" Sam ordered quickly and as the yokel wrapped his arms around his waist he winced with the strain as he felt the weight yank against his shoulder joint. He let go of his companion's shirt and started the long reach back up to the rope.

With gritted teeth and an arduous expression, Sam tensed the muscles to his arm that clung tenaciously onto the rope. Slowly and with immense exertion his elbow began to bend.

"Na-ahh," he grunted when he felt his grip begin to slide and with a last ditch effort reached up with the other. He closed his eyes with relief as his fingers curled around the silken skeins. The gravity of the water seemed to be pulling them both down. "Climb over me—I don't know how much longer I can take your weight," Sam exacted as he felt the bite of the cord tearing through his fingers.

Brendon clawed his way over Sam and up to the rigging and hung there, breathless, aside his sister; he shivered with the cold making the taught trapeze quiver with their combined mass.

"You're lucky that I insisted that you go up first," Sam heeded as he thought about the consequences of what could have been.

"Aye bay Jasus, oy'd bay in a royt ol' pickle ef et wont fer moy ol' Getti! 'Tis noy or nuver ta troy agin, oy'm suposin'," the brother suggested and after his short respite, began his perilous climb.

"Just take it easy this time, will ya. No more acrobatic antics, do you hear me?" Sam pleaded after him.

"Oy's a hearin' yous lout un cloyr," Brendon's voice reverberated strangely down the tubular shaft.

Eventually, even Brendon was safely topside, leaving Sam alone in the pit for the first time. He felt a surreal silence shroud about him and hastily tugged at the suspended rope.

"Ready when you are!" he shouted upward and he immediately began to climb, definitely not wanting to wait around for a reply; he just needed to be out of there and the sooner the better.

Even before the two brothers started to lend a helping hand, Sam was already halfway up and in no time at all Sam's hands reached out and grasped the sides of the small wall and heaved himself up.

The night air was very warm indeed after that spell in the inert and squalid environment and Sam breathed it in tempestuously, "Ahhhh, that's good!"

The two brothers gaped speechlessly at each other in awe as they watched their sister haul herself out and as she so deftly swung her legs over the wall.

Bernadette immediately covered Doctor Beckett with a blanket. "Oh hun, yous lookin' ta bay arf frozed," she sighed. "Cummun, yous bay sittin' heyr ta rest yer weary bones. Oy'll bay gittin' yous some hot broth ta warms yer all up," she added as she walked over to a flask and proceeded to fill a mug with some steaming concoction.

Sam became aware of the others, all sitting around the edge of the well opening. Brendon sat on the stone slab and started to stroke the brow of the immobile and unconscious Cheryl.

"How is she?" Sam stammered as he wondered why he couldn't see Al and why he still hadn't Leapt yet.

"Much the same as when we got her out," Beatrice answered, listlessly as she supped at a beaker of what Sam presumed to be hot broth. "Though Bernie did tend to her and the paramedics are on their way."

The doctor in Sam was itching to see what could be done for Cheryl but according to his brother, Don, Bridgett knew nothing about first aid, let alone doctoring.

Sam observed Benjamin as he moved casually over towards a clump of nearby bushes and saw the pistol slightly protruding from the waist of his belt. He then detected Charles' close proximity, facing them and tethered to a sturdy log.

Sam watched. He knew deep down inside that there was some reason why he was still here and without Al's guidance, he'd have to figure out what it was by himself.

Bernadette handed him the beaker and at first contact it burned at his icy fingers. "'Ere git dis doyn yer, oyt'll warum yous up in no time atal, atal."

"Thank you," Sam acknowledged gratefully, looking up at her but keeping an astute eye on Charles.

"If he's gonna do it, then it's gonna be soon," Al's voice shot out of nowhere, causing Sam to spin round just as the Imaging Chamber door opened.

"How…!!??" Sam started to say loudly to his unobserved observer but instead turned to the others. "How's about a drop of the old Irish? That should warm up the cockles," he asked unobtrusively, hoping it would give him chance to talk with his friend.

"Oy'll go git et," Bernadette said as she began to stand.

"No! No, that's okay, I need to stretch my legs after being confined to…" he scrambled to his feet and nodded down to the aperture of the well.

Before anyone could say, 'Jack Daniel's,' Sam was away and striding off towards the house, leaving Al to run after him. "As long as I can have the 'Angel's share', "Al shouted after him.

'Angels?' Sam thought as he shot Al a baffled glare but didn't saying anything until they were a safe distance away from the others, only then did he turn to Al. "Where were you? Angel Al!"

"Commissioning Stephen's services on the handlink… Remember? Broken!" Al emphasized, taking the object out of his pocket and jiggling before Sam's eyes. "I didn't think it'd hurt any, taking time out for maintenance but now I'm back I don't think you should be toddling off at such a time either. Sam! I just know that Junior's gonna try something, 'cos according to Ziggy he still dies."

"What!" Sam stopped in his tracks as they were just about to enter the house. "He can't! He's all tied up back there!"

"See for yourself, Sam," Al said as he summoned up Ziggy's image.

"The Admiral is correct Doctor, Charles Davenport Jr. does indeed die as before from poisoning but now Beatrice Horncastle is imprisoned for his premeditated murder. Two of her daughters and her siblings are charged as accessories, before and after the fact," Ziggy stated skittishly.

"How?" Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What about the other sis—it's Cheryl isn't it? Why are you hiding this from me? What happens to Cheryl?"

Ziggy initiated silent mode.

"Answer me Ziggy! Does Cheryl die and if she does, who gets charged with her murder?" Sam demanded of the impertinent hybrid.

Ziggy eyed her father scrupulously. "Her death is—was notarized as 'a victim of circumstance'. No formal charges were brought."

"And where's that damn ambulance?" Sam wanted to know and looked around dismayed.

"That's another thing Doctor," Ziggy piped up. "The operator couldn't understand Bernadette Stanwick's dialect and the ambulance was sent to the wrong district. It will not arrive for another 28.75 minutes."

"Hell!" the Admiral voiced, exacerbated. "Why didn't you tell me this before Zig…?"

"It was not on the agenda, Admiral," Ziggy pouted. "I'm sorry Doctor but I do not seem to be able to keep abreast with the changing history. Some things are changing so fast they do not appear to even register in my database."

Doctor Beckett didn't know which way to turn. "Do I need to phone the ambulance station or attend to Cheryl? Which do I need to do first?" Sam asked as a matter of urgency and at a total loss as to which would take the utmost priority.

"As I see it Doctor, you will need to delegate Beatrice Horncastle to reaffirming the destination with the ambulance service. In my estimation that will cut 12.02 minutes from their designated arrival time," Ziggy ascertained smugly. "Giving you plenty of time to tend to Cheryl Horncastle's immediate needs."

Sam started to race off back towards the well entrance, speaking as he ran, "That just leaves one slight problem Zig… the fact that Bridgett, meaning me—has no medical knowledge whatsoever. How can I explain that?"

The Admiral followed as close as he could with Ziggy's voice trailing off in physicist's wake. "I'm sure you'll think of something, Doctor. You usually do."

"Yeah Sam… Ziggy's right… thinking on your feet… ain't that what you're good at?" Al wheezed heavily, taking the rear. "And Bernie… what's her name can assist you… 'Cos don't forget about blondie… he's up to no good. You've gotta keep one eye on him."

"I know Al, but I can't be in two places at once so you'll have to help me with that. Could you keep an eye on him whilst I do the necessaries with Cheryl?"

"Yup, I think I can manage that," the Observer maintained as he re-centered himself and closed in on Sam. He felt relieved when finally he saw the others; he was fast running out of steam and was pleased when Sam at last slowed down.

Strolling over to Cheryl, Sam leaned over her and kneeled by her side. "She looks so pale and lifeless, I wish there was something that could be done for her now," Sam said as he started his subterfuge. "Beatrice… I wonder what's taking that ambulance so long, surely it should be here by now."

"I was just wondering the exact same thing; you must've been reading my mind, Bridgett. I think I'll go and phone them now," Beatrice said as though it were her own suggestion and headed off towards the house.

Sam watched as Al sauntered off in the direction of where Charles was seated and then he turned to Bernadette. "That cut on her head looks nasty; shouldn't we be at least trying to stop the bleeding?"

"Oy's troyd, but tis a bad abrashun and wit her bein cowuld, oy dunna tink dat unywun cud," Bernie said looking down at her blood stained hands.

Sam squirmed, mortified at his lack of comprehension. 'Oh boy! And I thought Italian was bad!' "Could you run that by me again? Ya know," Sam laughed uneasily. "I've been away for so long I seem to have the lost the vernacular to…"

"Awww, awoy wit yer," Bernadette disrupted Sam's feeble excuse. "Unce uf da Oyrish, ulwoys uf da Oyrish," she concluded.

Sam grimaced. "Well, you know how it is, not being around, ya sorta lose touch," he tried to explain and with a shrug of his shoulders. "Must be being down there, down that darned stinking hole, the cold must've muddled at my brain, messing it up."

Bernadette raised her brows and 'tutted'. "Yous knows, oy's bin hoyvin da soym truble. Oy's cannut understant whut yous bin soyin arf da toyme. Yous an your la-de-da 'mericun acsunt," she smiled, a wide grin that showed true sincerity.

Sam laughed; a laugh that couldn't suppress his anxiousness at the prone figure lying there so still, so pale and yet so peacefully.

"Tells yous whut!" she announced emphatically. "Yous still carry alluv thems hankies rount with yous?"

'Hankies?' Sam thought, desperately trying to make sense of what she was getting around to asking. "Hankies?" he repeated, the words falling from his mouth.

Bernadette pulled Sam's arm to one side and started to rummage in the pocket of Bridgett's skirt. "Tort so," she said as she pulled out several neatly folded and ironed linen handkerchiefs and slapping them into Sam's hand. "Yous wanna hulp? Den yous jus press deese on 'ere loyk dis." Taking Sam's hand she maneuvered it to Cheryl's temple, where the blood still oozed from the gaping wound. "Noy press hart an yous mussna stop! Do yous 'ere?"

Sam nodded; smiling inside that his ruse had worked out satisfactorily. He only hoped that now Bernadette would leave him alone and allow him to do what needed to be done before the medics arrived. Glancing from her to Al, Sam could see that he was having difficulties with the blonde haired brute. Charles was on his feet and swiping a 'free' hand through his friend's image.

Sam looked about him but he couldn't see either of the two brothers. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, "And just when I've taken control over Cheryl's medical dispensations."

"Whut wus dat?" Bernadette asked as she turned back to Sam.

"Seems like our friend over there has slipped his tethers," Sam said, nodding his head towards where Charles was arguing with his invisible friend. Sam half smiled at what the others would be seeing but inside he knew that whatever it was that Charles had planned, it was now in full effect.

"Whur's Ben an Don?" Bernie asked as she looked around desperately.

"I dunno!" Sam answered, totally stunned that Charles had somehow gotten free. "Jacquie? Did you see where Ben and Don went to?"

Jacqui straightened herself from helping Terri remove the horrid gunky stuff from her hair. "I don't know; I never saw them leave. Is there something else that's wrong aunt Bridgett?"

"Nothing to concern yourselves about." Sam smiled at both girls and then glanced quickly at his friend.

It looked as if Al was having fun with the incensed youth, dodging some of Charles' punches and letting some fly though him. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, they were too far from earshot but Sam knew that from the muffled tone of his friend's voice, he was certainly amusing himself. He couldn't say the same for Charles however, he was getting more and more irate when his blows had no effect and the upsurge of his consternation turned his face into a bright red beacon.

Turning back to Jacqui, Sam said, "Why don't you help Terri into the house, I'm sure your mother could do with the company, oh, and if you see either of your uncles, just let them know we're still out here."

Sam wanted everyone out of the way and as soon as possible, he didn't want anyone else getting hurt; he watched as Jacqui helped her sister to her feet and started heading for the house.

"Shudn't woy bay gitting Cheryl insoyd ta?" Bernie asked as her eyes followed her nieces.

"No!" Sam said adamantly. "We shouldn't move her—at least that's what I've heard," he added with a touch of consternation. "Why don't you go and fetch more blankets, we need to keep her warm until the medics get here at least."

"Whut aboot?" Bernie nodded to the distance.

A last quick glance over in his friend's direction warned Sam that Al wouldn't be able to contain Charles' fervor forever and he began to feel impatient.

"Don't worry about him—I don't think he'll be bothering the two of us. And besides, the medics will be here any minute," Sam hoped, on both counts. "Go on, fetch the blankets."

"Ef yous' sure?" she queried, giving Sam a curious stare as she started backing away.

"I'm sure, now be off with ya." Sam waved her away and as she turned tail, he returned his attention to Cheryl.

With his free hand, he unfastened the already half undone bow that once adorned his host's blouse and unthreaded it from underneath the color. Wrapping it about Cheryl's head, he secured the wad of handkerchiefs and fastened it tightly in place. He then checked her pulse and found it to be rapid but steady and he smiled.

"You're gonna be okay Cheryl," Sam reassured her, stroking her hair. "Your breathing is more or less normal and that's a really good sign, honest. I know you're probably thinking what the hell your aunt is on about but trust me—I do know what I'm doing. You rest there, I've just got to check something out, but I won't be long, I promise. Your aunt will be back shortly and this is something I've go to do before she returns."

Sam raised himself slowly so as not to alert Charles. Turning succinctly, he started heading towards Charles in a roundabout way instead of taking a direct approach.

As he began his encroachment, he saw the young man take something from his pocket, a glint of green on the moonlight. "Sam, hurry!" he heard his friend cry out.

Alerted by the hologram's warning, Charles turned abruptly and started to charge his way towards Doctor Beckett.

Sam didn't waste any time: time he could ill afford to lose.  Hitching up his skirt, he readied himself for any event that could possibly come about.  Legs akimbo, he waited for the inevitable incursion.

But, when Charles stopped dead just before reaching him, Sam didn't know what to expect.  "What's wrong Charles, don't you think you can handle me?" he offered in confrontation.  "Scared of me, are you?"

Charles grinned wildly.  "You'll pay for this, you'll all pay and very dearly."

"Stop him Sam!" the Observer yelled.  "He's still got that bottle and I think he's gonna drain it."

"I've seen the bottle," Sam remarked to his friend and also warning Charles of what he had seen.  "Charles, hand it to me, the bottle please—it's all over Charles, I'm not gonna let you take it."

"Ha-ha-ha!" Charles laughed manically.  "You?" he almost fell about laughing, "You're gonna stop me?  You and who?  You sent everybody away.  You're on your own lady!" he held the green bottle at arms length.  "Come on!" he challenged,  "Come on!  Come and get it from me!"

Sam inched closer.

"Whooohooo!  Scary lady!" Charles goaded as he lunged forward suddenly, holding out the bottle for Sam to take but then retreated back just as quickly.  "I'm scared!  I'm scared!" he continued to jeer.  "That a girl!" he provoked as Sam took another step toward him.  "Come and get it!"

Sam held out his hand.  "You're not doing yourself any favors by doing this…"

"Favors?" Charles feverishly butted in.  "Who needs favors when you have a father like mine.  A father who couldn't care less and still does as he pleases, when he pleases and not suffer the consequences."

"You are not your father, Charles.  No matter how much you dislike or hate him, you'll never be able to alter the fact that he IS your father.  You don't want to be likened him so don't become akin to him.  You're your own person; retain your own individuality.  That's all I'm asking you to do." Sam crept onward.

"Come on old woman, I'd love to see you take me on!" Charles provoked as he waved his fingers for Sam to move forwards but kept a firm grip on the small bottle, tightly held between thumb and forefinger.

At 51, Sam didn't feel particularly old.  Hadn't he kept himself fit and ate the right foods—when possible?  He also doubted that Bridgett was old either, judging by her sisters appearances she was either in her late 30's or very early 40's.

"Come on," he goaded Sam forwards again.  "A good strong, strapping Irish girl, like yourself."

Sam didn't budge an inch further but awaited the next move to be initiated by the young man.

"Sam!" Al championed to his friend.  "What are you waitin' for?  Noozle the noddle!" he blinked, thinking his words didn't come out quite as expected.  "I-I m-mean noodle the nozzle!"

"Not everything can be solved with violence," Sam aimed his statement towards both men but he saw a grin spread across Charles' face.

"What?!  What—after what he's done!"  Al condescended and his brow creased in disappointment.

Charles glanced over his shoulder and towards who he saw as the facsimiled leprechaun, dressed in emerald green.  "Getting others to fight your battles for your now?  I ain't scared of you, you cretin!  You can't lay a finger on me!" he said caustically and at the same time, he flipped the stopper from the miniature green container with his thumb.  Turning back to Sam he asked, "So?  I'm a-waitin'."

"Sam!" the Observer warned. "He's gonna do it now, Sam!"

"SHADDAP!" Charles snarled; half turning is head towards the observer as he neared the bottle to his mouth.

Sam watched intently.

As the bottle neared Charles' lips, he began to tilt his head.  It was then that Sam decided to make his move.  One stride forward and he had the lad in range.  Sam span around and let loose his own particular technique of the 'flying noodle' kick and knocked the bottle from Charles' grasp just before any of the liquid could flow passed the rim of the container.

Charles staggered rearward and a somewhat flummoxed expression exchanged from his previous air of defiance.  "How?" he breathed as his confused gaze turned from Sam and to the upturned bottle on the ground.

The scientist staggered to a halt and looked at his friend in amazement, that he hadn't actually made contact but had achieved his goal all the same.

Charles watched mortified as he saw the liquid drain from the bottle and seep into the earth but his mortification was all too short-lived and as a consequence, his seething once again took him over.  "Arrrrgggghhhhh!" he screamed as he kicked at the bottle and lunged forward towards Sam.

Taken unawares, the physicist fell off balance and Charles landed heavily on top of him.  Sam yelped in pain as something hard dug into his shoulder.

"Umph!" Sam grunted as he desperately pushed away the dead weight that was crushing him and took that moment to catch his breath.  "Uh," he groaned as he turned and saw Charles' bulk rolling away from him.  "Al!" Sam gasped, alarmed and looked towards his friend.

Immediately Sam crawled his way over to where the stricken youth lay stock-still.  As Sam checked him over, he noticed that a dark weal was beginning to develop on the young man's forehead.  He looked over to where they had both fallen and saw the protrusion rising up from the ground.

"He's out cold, Al.  He must've hit his head on that rock when he jumped me."

"Lucky for you that he did," Al said unconcerned.  "Now all you've got to do is tie him back up before the ambulance crew get here."

"Aren't you in the least bit worried that he might have killed himself?" Sam asked as he stumbled to his feet.

"No!" Al said solidly.  "But I was concerned about you.  Where were you earlier when I needed you?  What kept you?" the Observer asked somewhat annoyed as he looked down at the horizontal form with his face in the soil.

"Al, I think those are my lines," Sam said mocking him slightly.

The Observer didn't say a word but clamped his open mouth shut in exasperation.

Sam cringed as he stretched and placed a faltering hand to his throbbing shoulder.  "I don't think there's any need to restrain an unconscious man, do you Al?  You just keep an eye on him whilst I see how Cheryl is fairing up.  If he starts to come around then just give me a yell."

"Okay Sam, whatever you say Sam," the Observer said with a yawn.

No sooner had Doctor Beckett reached Cheryl's side when he heard voices coming from the direction of the house.  Three burly gents were closely following one of his sisters; he couldn't quite make out which one but as they progressively neared Sam could make out the clothing and the accent that distinguished Bernadette from his other sister, Beatrice.

Sam bowed his head and groaned.  Bernadette was babbling again in her indiscernible vernacular.  No doubt explaining in explicit detail, what had taken place.  Looking up at them as they approached, he hoped that they had had more luck in deciphering her anecdotes.

"Whut huppend 'ere?" Bernie asked, surreptitiously surveying the scene.

"Well…" Sam started to explain but the paramedics took charge.

Two went over to where Sam sat with Cheryl and gently ushered him away, whilst the third examined the prone figure of Charles.  Sam stood midway between the two and as they worked, he explained everything to Bernadette, tediously having to repeat some phrases more than twice.

When the medic had finished with Charles, Sam repeated everything to the physician as he tended to Sam's shoulder, after which he started leading Sam towards the house.

"How is she?" Sam mumbled, despondently as he looked back at Cheryl.

"I've no idea, but from the way they're working, I think she'll be just fine," the medic said with a hint of reassurance and indicated to one of his colleagues that Charles should not be left unattended.

As they walked, the medic took out a cell phone, requested that another team should be brought in, and also petitioned that the police be informed.

As they climbed the steps, the Observer materialized in front of them, causing Sam jump back in alarm.  "Stop doing that!" he spurted out without thinking.

Sam's sudden outburst triggered the medic to falter on the steps and almost lose his footing.  "W-what d-did I-I do?" he stammered as he regained control.

"Sorry, I'm a little jumpy," Sam apologized as he glared at his friend.

"Erm… sorry Sam," Al said, shaking his head.  "I can't help it as to where I'm beamed in, blame Ziggy," he grinned.  "I'll see you in the sitting room, that's where all of the others have congregated," he stipulated as he disappeared.

"I'm not surprised after all you've gone through tonight," the medic sympathized.  "I think I'd be more than a little jumpy too."

As they entered the sitting room, the conversation was in full flow.  It took the physicist a few moments to get the gist of it and whilst he did so, he took in everyone's positions.

Beatrice sat with Jacqui on the sofa with the observer for once standing quietly behind them, whilst Terri reclined on the chásè-longé.  Bernadette wasn't far behind him and as she plunked herself down beside her sister, Sam had to satisfy himself with a chair.

As he started to sit, Beatrice rebuked him, "My!  You're all filthy, where's your blanket girl?"

Sam jumped up with a start and felt suddenly awkward.  "I think I must've left it outside, I don't remember," Sam said as a flush rose to his cheeks.

The medic winked at Sam as he checked out Jacqui's bruises.  "She's just tackled that man single handedly out there and all you're concerned about is a few dirty marks on your furniture."

"Huh," Beatrice huffed.

The medic chagrined, went on with his work.

"Aunt Bridgett was great, wasn't she mamma?" Terri enthused.  "Finding us in the well like that, it was a miracle that she found us."

Al turned to Terri.  "Ain't aunts wonderful?  I know mine is," he said nodding his head in appreciation to Sam.

Sam returned a curious glance to his friend.  "Aunts?" he asked cautiously.  Al waved it off but Sam was adamant that his friend had meant something by his comment.  He knew his friend illustriously, too well in some aspects and before this Leap was through, he was going to ask him about what he had implied.

"Yeah, aunt Bernadette too," Terri added, mistaking Sam's query as a reminder for Bernie's administrations in all that had happened.

Beatrice shook her head.  "I didn't realize I was putting any of you in danger.  The only time it hit home was when you, Terri asked Charles that question and I saw his reaction."

Terri looked at her mother stunned. "What question?" she asked in confusion.  "I don't remember asking him any questions!  One minute I'm sunning myself by the pool and the next I'm down in that grotty well."  She tilted her head to one side as if trying to bring up some memory from the back of her mind.

Al jumped in.  "Sam, DO something!  If Terri remembers anything it could put a cow bosh on everything"

"You're always forgetting things Terri!" Jacqui spoke up, shaking her head heedlessly.

 Unhindered, Beatrice continued, her head bent low in embarrassment. "It was just a sorta game at first, that was until Charles went absolutely crazy then I began to understand the danger you were all in.  I tried to stop him but he was too strong for me and in the struggle, I-I stumbled and fell down the well.  He was like a man possessed."  She shivered at the thought of how she felt and looked up momentarily as her two brothers walked into the room. "He strove to save me by grabbing onto my jacket but the seam must have been weak and the… the sleeve tore away and I plunged…" she sighed deeply as she looked down at the torn remnant.  "I'll never forget that feeling of falling, as if I was watching a movie in slow-motion and that icy water… that rendered me totally inept for quite some time… I think.  The mind can play funny tricks when you're scared half-witless.  Just before Bridgett rescued us—I could have sworn that you were a man, Terri.  I'm so sorry that I lashed out at you like that," she said, patting Jacqui's hand.

"I wondered about that mamma, though I had forgotten all about it.  Great timing though, everyone turning up as if on cue.  I don't know what we would have done or what would have happened if they couldn't have gotten over here for the wedding."

"'Twas wurt da trip Beatie, even da loyng soylin' from Oylant was wurt et," Brendon piped in.  "Oy'm just glat dat oy wus 'ere ta stop dat sun-of-a-gun"

"Oy wushed oy cud soy da soym Beatie but yous knows jus how much oy hate dem loyng journeys," Benjamin replicated.

"Moron!" Al blasted.  "Don't let him get away with that Sam, if it wasn't for you, he'd still be down that stinking well shaft!"

Sam shrugged.

"All done here," the medic concluded and he glanced fleetingly at everyone in the room.  "I'll see if I'm still needed outside.  The police will be here soon." he said, giving Sam an awkward smile before leaving.  He then chuckled to himself, 'they'll have a field day with this one.'

Jacqui fidgeted.  She wanted to ask her mother about what Charles had said earlier, she was surprised that her aunt hadn't brought it up either.  "Mamma?" she asked sheepishly.  "I know that this is probably the wrong time to bring this up but I doubt there will ever be a proper or appropriate time to ask this but…" she shuffled nervously to the edge of her seat.  "But Charles did say something and if I don't ask now then I shall be wondering for the rest of my life."  She paused, turning abruptly towards Sam.

Doctor Beckett breathed in deeply, knowing exactly what it was that bothered Jacqui and he turned to his sister.  "Beatrice… Beatie… What Jacqui is about to ask you is the ravings of a deranged mind.  To be honest Jacqui, I didn't believe a single word he said, but it is something that needs to be brought out into the open and for Jacqui's sake it needs a conclusion."  Sam smiled listlessly towards his niece.

"Charles said that pappa isn't…" Jacqui broke off, covering her face with her hands, as if blocking out her mother's expression would make the words come easier.  "…isn't our father.  He… he said that… that he's our brother and that out real father is… is… his…" she broke off in a flurry of tears and wailing.

Terri gasped inwardly and sat upright.

"Oh cupcakes—it isn't true I promise you!" Beatrice comforted as she wrapped an arm around her daughter.

"S-so he w-was l-lying?" Jacqui stuttered out between sobs.

"Well!" Beatrice slapped her hands onto her knees in a most unladylike in fashion.  "Charles Davenport Sr. isn't the father of my girls; it was Henry's idea to keep Charles sweet… everyone knows with multiple births that the pregnancy term can be cut short, I was already carrying when… ahem… you know?" the mother blushed and turned her head away.  "Your father knew that he didn't have long and well… he wanted me to be taken care of when he'd gone."

"Mother how could you?" Terri reproached.

"It was the perfect solution… at that time… letting Charles senior believe that you were his but the longer your father survived his… ordeal.  And as time passed and the more we thought about what we'd done, we began to regret it.  But there was no turning back, we were almost penniless, we couldn't undo what we'd done and so we lived the lie until your father's death but by that time Charles senior had remarried and so the marriage to his son was arranged.  All very convenient until…"

"I asked Charles if he was marrying you for your money," Sam said without even knowing where the remembrance had come from.

All eyes turned to Sam.

"You've put your foot in it now Sam!" Al reproached his friend.  "Remember your Bridgett now and not Terri."

"Aunt Bridgett?  Your brain has gotten all frosted up; it wasn't you, that was Terri's stupid question," Jacqui lobbied her sister for judgment.

Terri shook her head venomously.  "I never once thought that of Charles.  I thought that he was marrying mamma because of who she was, not because of what she was worth."

"Then it was a good question raised," Beatrice repudiated Jacqui's countenance.  "It's just a pity that the consequences were so extreme.  We would never have known otherwise.  Who know what the outcome would have been if the last two days had never happened."

Sam looked over to his friend as out of the corner of his eye he saw Ziggy's image pirouette out from the handlink.

Beatrice turned to her brother, Benjamin.  "I know how you hate long sea journeys and flying even more and I'm just so sorry that you had to endure a wasted voyage and I suppose you'll be leaving as soon as you can."

"And it's a good job that they don't know about the previous ending," the Observer recompensed.  "You've done it Sam, you've reconciled the family.  Get ready to Leap Sam!"

"Not yet!" Sam embellished tenaciously and once again, all eyes turned to him.  Feeling totally outdone yet again, Sam had to think fast and he thanked God for the precious gift that He had bestowed upon him: the ability to listen to and converse in, several conversations at once. "N-no-one's gonna be leaving to go anywhere just yet," he breathed in deeply.  "Except me, I'm sorry… ahh… but I need the bathroom, I think maybe I've caught a chill," he offered in recompense as he secretively beckoned the observer out of the room.

Halfway down the hallway, Sam stopped and asked, "What happens with them Al?  This all seems too much of an easy solution for what they've been through."

 "Oh, they're all fine Sam and live happily ever after even Charles lives to fight another day but not for a few years though…"

Ziggy interrupted the two pals with a beaming smile.  "Charles Davenport Jr. spends the next five years institutionalized and undergoes intensive therapy.  He marries a Miss Julia Christy in August of 1977 and they have a large family, three girls and four boys.  Charles Davenport Sr. doesn't hold any grudges as to the deception from his old friend and rival; in fact, he's relieved when his wife delivers him a daughter of his own just before Christmas this year."

"And get this Sam," Al cut in.  "Davenport Sr. doesn't forget about Beatrice either.  He makes sure she's very comfortable and she's still living here to this very day, surrounded by sixteen grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren and more on the way."

"That's great Al," Sam smiled.  "But what's this about aunts?  You've never mentioned any other relatives before, that is apart from your parents and sister."

Al grinned broadly.  "You mean you don't remember Brigitte Petruski, the little Russian girl you helped?"

As Sam shook his head, he felt the familiar energy surge intensify, which was customary as the current Leap ended and the subsequent Leap began.  "No!  No!  I'm not leaving yet," Sam cried out as he looked up to the heavens.

"Looks like that's for me to know and for you to find out, Sam."

"I'm not leaving!  Not until Al tells me…"

"Ta-ta, Sam," the Observer said with a wave of his hand as the azure tendrils swirled and encased the Leaper in bolts of white lightening.

EPILOGUE

The Leap-in left him breathless, panting hard.  No, that wasn’t it – he was running, running fast, across a field.

A little way ahead and slightly to his right, another figure was running too, glancing over his shoulder at Sam, or rather whoever Sam had just become.  Was he racing or chasing this other person?  Before he had a chance to find out, or to take in his surroundings, or to work from the position of the sun what time it was or which direction he was going in – there was a sound like a sudden clap of thunder, and a force like hailstones struck him sharply from behind, knocking him face down on the ground.  A burning pain peppered his lower back, upper legs, and all points in between.

“Oooowww boy!”

The other figure skidded to a stop and dashed back to where Sam lay.  “Lenny?” Sam heard him query.

Sam looked up to see a young man, maybe in his mid twenties, with scruffy brown hair and dark brown eyes, ruggedly handsome and muscular, dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt, leaning over him with a look of concern.

Sam tried to get up, but a vicious pain lanced through his body, and kept him pinned to the ground.  He moved his hand around tentatively to explore his back, and felt warm moisture.  Bringing his hand back into view, he saw that it was stained a dark crimson red.  “I – I’m b-bleeding!” he stammered; his eyes wide with shock and horror.

“Yeah.  Getting shot’ll do that to you every time!