PROLOGUE

The rain that pelted down on the worn gray felt fedora was akin to the kind found in those dark and stormy nights where the rain came down so hard that it washed the gum right off of the streets.

At first, the man standing in the onslaught of rain didn’t seem entirely aware of it. Then, he blinked, turning his head as if to survey his surroundings. Belatedly, he realized that his hand was raised in a fist against the door, and he wondered if he’d knocked on the door or not.

His hand looked right, and he felt a slightly giddy sense of relief that it was a very masculine hand. No high heels or tight skirts in this Leap. Great. Instead, he was wearing a gray suit with a long-sleeved white shirt that buttoned down the front. The cut was fairly standard, and it didn’t give any indication of when he’d leaped into. He turned slightly, shifting his weight to look out across the yard and into the darkened evening, noting the rather Northeastern appearance of the neighborhood. The air around him, however, was entirely too warm to be truly in the Northeast and he wondered where he was.

He didn’t have the chance to look for a newspaper or something to give him today’s date, for at that very moment, the door that he may or may not have knocked on opened and a soft and vaguely familiar female voice called to him.

“Sam…?” There was a pause, then, “Sam Beckett… are you coming in, or are you going to stand out in the rain all night?”

Startled, the man turned back to the door and looked at the slight brunette woman standing with her hand on the doorknob. It connected, a moment after, that she’d called him by his name. “Oh boy…”

PART ONE

Every time I enter a new persona, there’s a feeling of disorientation, an inner sense of confusion as I try to figure out who I’ve become, and where I am. This time was no different… until I heard her voice call out my name. No one where I leap should know who I am, but for some reason, it felt… right that she knew. I can’t say that it feels like I’ve come home… but it feels a lot like walking into a close relative’s house. I decided that I’d bide my time until Al showed up, and then I’d have a better idea of what, exactly, was going on. It’s not an… easy feeling.

As Doctor Samuel Beckett stepped through the doorway, the woman who had invited him in took his hat and tsked slightly at his lack of a coat. “Sam, you forgot your coat.”

Her voice was soft and familiar, and he could have sworn that he knew her. Light eyes turned questioningly to dark ones, and he searched her face for a moment before answering. “I didn’t know it was going to be raining.” The obscene stupidity of the comment struck him before he’d finished delivering the line and he mentally slapped his hand against his forehead.

“No, I suppose there really wasn’t a way for you to know, now, was there? It’s not like you arrived with any firm idea in your head, is it?” She shook her head slowly as she closed the front door and hung his hat on the coat stand nearby.

He studied her for a few more moments, a haunted sort of expression crossing his face, and she sighed at him. “Go on, in with you.” She waved her hand towards the room proper. “Go sit down before you fall down.”

The room was everything that a living room should be; cozy and warm with an overstuffed sofa and the kind of recliner in which one might very easily fall asleep. The walls were a soft pastel yellow, and the carpet was a rather gentle shade of blue. He stepped hesitantly into the center of the room, looking at the picture-perfect coffee table and turned back to his hostess. “I… I’m sorry, but I don’t know… your name…” he finished quietly, his voice faltering as he realized how stupid he sounded.

She smiled gently, a rather knowing sort of smile that gave him the impression that he wasn’t as stupid as he thought he was. “That’s because I haven’t told you yet.” She shook her head at him again, watching as he half-sat, half-collapsed on the sofa. She turned to a side table and picked up a plate, offering him a small assortment of cookies. “My name is Merry… as in Christmas.”

A host of things ran through Sam’s mind at her name, including a half a dozen things that he could just hear Al say in regards to a name like that. Of course, that thought only made him glance around the room in search of his holographic companion. I guess Ziggy doesn’t have a lock on me yet… whereever here is…He took a cookie after a moment, and bit into it to stall for time. “So… Merry…” his voice trailed off again. Come on, Beckett! You’ve managed in situations far worse than this! Think! But before he could say anything else, she set the plate on the coffee table and moved towards another door.

“I’ll get the coffee started. I’m sure that you have many questions, and I’ll be more than happy to answer them for you. Just make yourself comfortable, and give me five minutes.” She vanished behind a white swinging door, and Sam turned his attention to the cookie plate in front of him.

They taste familiar… like… like… he struggled to remember something that danced just out of his mental reach. Like Tina’s cookies. Those cookies she made for the party the Christmas before I Leaped. Tina… Tina… Tina who? He picked up another cookie and bit into it, hoping the taste would jolt his memory into coughing up her last name. Names. Plural, no… hyphenated. Mar… Martin… Martinez! Martinez-O'Farrell! He grinned as he realized that he’d remembered without any prompting. This, of course, made him want to tell Al. Only, as he glanced around the room again, he saw that Al hadn’t arrived yet.

“Your companion isn’t here, Sam. He may not find you while you’re here, you know…” she came through the swinging door with two cups of coffee in her hands, walking across the room to set one on the coffee table in front of him. Smiling at his somewhat shocked expression, she offered the cup. “It’s black… the way you like it.”

A million questions shadowed his eyes as he reached forward and picked up the cup, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a hesitant sip. The coffee was warm, offsetting the dampness… wait a minute. I’m not soaked. All I was wearing was that hat in the rain… he swallowed his mouthful of coffee and looked at the woman. “What’s going on? I was out in the rain… I should be soaked to the skin.” The cuffs of his jacket were definitely dry… as were his shoes.

Merry sat in the overstuffed recliner and folded a leg underneath her. “Relax, Sam. You’re safe. Have another cookie.” She indicated the plate, and leaned back to look at him when he stubbornly refused. “This is a safe place. Right now, you’re in a place that neither exists, nor does not exist. Suffice it to say, you’ve found a temporal haven.”

Sam frowned. A place that exists… but doesn’t… Al’s Place! “That bar…” When she nodded slightly, he frowned harder. “Why am I here?”

Merry closed her eyes and shook her head. “He wasn’t kidding. Oh, Sam… for all of your brilliance… you’re missing it all over again.” Before he could object, she opened her eyes and leaned forward, setting her coffee cup on the table. “Think for a moment, Sam. Your string theory, think about it.”

He pondered for a moment, and then shook his head. “What do you mean, think about it? Quantum Leaping is based on it. The possibility of traveling from point to point within one’s own lifetime.” Irritation edged his voice, and he put his half-empty cup of coffee on the table. “What’s your point?”

She sighed softly, brown eyes looking gently to his hazel ones. “Sam… what happens between the points? Where do you go?”

Her question startled him. “Between…?” He blinked, a chill shimmying down his spine, even though the room was quite warm. “The space between points… between the leaps…” Something clicked in his mind, a realization of something that fit snugly within his theory, and he had overlooked it so easily. “Here.”

She smiled, leaning back in her chair. “And Al’s Place, too. Call it the space between the moments, if you will. Something that both exists, and yet at the same time, does not. Sometimes the spaces are bigger than others, and sometimes there are havens in the larger spaces.”

The possibilities were endless, turning around in Sam’s brain. “No wonder Ziggy had fits. I didn’t account for the possibility that the physical could exist outside of the string.” The coffee and cookies were forgotten now, replaced by the knowledge that… he looked up, a glitter in his eyes. “That’s the way it is.”

She rose from her chair, collecting his cooled cup of coffee. “Yes, Sam. That’s the way it is,” She moved towards the kitchen, but his voice called her back.

“Can I go home? Is it even possible anymore?” His voice was weary, carrying the weight of a tired soul who had been on far too long of a journey and needed respite.

She turned back to him, looking at his face with a gentle smile. “Sam… you know the answer to that. You’ve always known. Why don’t you sleep on it? You’ve had some very long and hard times… let yourself rest for a little while.” She slipped through the door and it swung shut behind her.

He sat back on the sofa, considering her words. He was rather tired, and the sofa was very comfortable. Maybe by the time he’d rested some; Al would come along and tell him what he was supposed to be doing here…

No sooner had his eyes closed, Merry stepped back into the living room and looked at him sadly. Walking over towards the sofa, she shook her head and sighed. “Sam Beckett…” A smile laced with regret touched her lips, and she reached out and brushed the white lock of hair out of his face. “God bless, Sam. God bless.”

It didn’t surprise her in the least when he vanished from sight.

Project Quantum Leap

Stallions Gate, New Mexico

Al Calavicci hated it when any part of Ziggy had to be shut down. He loathed and despised the loss of potential contact with Sam Beckett, and had voiced his strongest objections to this latest downtime. He had managed to talk Dominic Lofton down from fourteen hours to five by allocating extra people to the chore and allowing Stephen to work on the front side of the development of the new chips… but it still rankled that Sam could leap into a situation where he, Al the hologram, might be needed and couldn’t be there. What would happen to Sam if he leapt into a life-or-death situation and Al wasn’t there? He hated to think of the disastrous consequences that could result from Sam making an uneducated decision.

Feeling as if he really ought to be standing in the Imaging Chamber assisting Sam, he stalked the hallways of the Project, glaring at anyone and everyone who got too close… including some of the clean-up crew who weren’t even involved. When he stalked past the small closet that had vending machines for the third time, he resisted the urge to pound on one in the hopes that Sam might walk in and chide him. Shaking his head, he checked his watch, growled at the time and turned to the elevator to go up to the control room and see how things were going.

PART TWO

The room was dark when he opened his eyes, and for a moment, confusion washed over him. He was lying on something cold and hard… but hadn’t he been lying on a sofa? With a woman… what was her name…? Christmas…? With a sigh, he sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. Sounds and smells started connecting, and even though the room was dark, it felt… familiar. There was a feeling that he should know where he was. He stood, stumbling in the darkness towards the door, absently keyed an override code to unlock the door and looked out when it slid soundlessly open.

His heart leapt into his throat as he scanned the darkened hallway, looking at white walls that he had only dreamed of seeing again. Wait a minute… I’m… home…? My code worked… When is this? Why didn’t Ziggy greet me when I unlocked the door, and why on earth is it so dark…? Have they scrapped the project? Is that why I’m back? I have to be careful… if this is the wrong time… If I haven’t Leaped yet…I can’t let anyone see me…

Sam Beckett staggered out of the darkened Project Waiting Room and headed quietly for the one place that he knew he could find answers: his office.

The doors of the elevator hissed open with a bright and cheery tone that only served to make Al even more irritated. Three in the morning was hardly the time for anything to be bright and cheery. In fact, while three in the morning was hardly the time for the Project Complex to be at full power, the quarter-light that the bean counters in the budget assembly demanded for this time of night was hardly enough for him to see his way into the main control rooms. Al would settle for half-power, but the sheer financials of running this place at even half power had been staggering. As he walked along, he again debated getting one of those tiny little LED flashlights that he could stick in his pocket for just such emergencies, which, he had to admit to himself were becoming all too regular. He supposed that after ten years, things were bound to get old and need replacing, repairing, or general overhauls, but still... He sighed. No one had thought that Sam would have stepped into the Acceleration Chamber and ten years later…

He stuck his head in the Waiting Room as he walked by, as was his custom, even if he knew Sam hadn’t leapt yet. It was dark and empty, as usual. It never once occurred to him that he hadn’t had to unlock the door. Instead, he continued on down the corridor to the main control room, glowering at Lofton’s feet as they poked out from under one of Ziggy’s endless consoles. He noted and then ignored the flurried tech that went past him, carrying something vaguely squarish that was blinking random colors. There were more people in the Control Room right now than were usual, and the ever-present hum of Ziggy’s processors was missing. The reversal from every day operations only blackened his mood and he strode over to Lofton’s feet and wished he had a cigar with him.

“Well?” Al growled, impatient for this to be over with. He leaned on the console and tried to peer into the panel assembly where Lofton had slid in. His back twinged, reminding him that bending and twisting like that wasn’t what he should be doing, and he righted himself with a muffled curse. He wasn’t as young as he wanted to be.

Lofton’s voice came from deep inside the assembly. “Al, I’ve only been working on this for an hour and a half. Why don’t you go to bed? I assure you that I have everything well at hand here.”

Al snarled something about sleeping on the job, but turned and stalked down the main corridor that led to the offices. Maybe he could work on some of the endless paperwork, provided he could turn on the lights in his office.

The office was dark, but the desk lamp flickered on when Sam flipped the switch at the door. The room was almost exactly as he remembered it… the large leather chair sitting behind his desk, waiting for him to sit and review the events that had gone by.

He bumped the door closed, having insisted on one of those old heavy wooden doors over the sliding doors that filled the hallways of most of the Project. It just hadn’t felt right for a wooden office to have a metal swooshing sound interrupt him when anyone wanted to visit. With a soft chuckle at the anachronism of an old wooden door in a project based on time travel, he sat in his chair, instantly feeling at home.

Absently, he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a notepad and a pen, scribbling a few notes of new twists on his string theory as he looked across the room to his atomic clock. It had been a gift from Gooshie; one of those early models that weren’t sophisticated enough to keep dates as well. But it told him enough so that he knew it was close to three in the morning. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. He’d just take a short nap and then try to figure out when he was... The pen slipped out of his fingers and rolled across the notepad to rest against the framed photo of a smiling brunette woman.

But Sam was sound asleep, and didn’t hear the pen tink up against the frame.

The moment that Al stepped down the main administrator’s corridor, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was the hint of a light that shouldn’t have been in the corridor, and eyes narrowing, he walked towards it. As he approached, he realized that the light was coming from Sam’s office. It was after three in the morning. Had Stephen woken in the middle of the night and snuck into Sam’s office to look something up again?

With the deep sigh of a irritated man forcing himself calm, Albert Calavicci, retired Rear Admiral of the US Navy, workaholic extraordinaire, walked up to the wooden door and pushed it open, fully intending to tell Stephen Beckett to go back to bed.

Instead, he ended up standing with his mouth hanging open in the doorway. What looked like Sam Beckett was sound asleep in the dark leather chair behind the desk. “Oh… my… God…” Al breathed.

The Project Observer walked quietly around the desk, looking critically at the sleeping form. Who was it? He couldn’t see the Visitor, and to all of his senses, it was Sam. Ziggy was offline, and thus, so were the inter-project communicators that everyone used. It was all up to him. He cleared his throat.

The answer was a soft snore from the sleeper in the chair.

Al rolled his eyes at the reply, and took a breath to clear his throat again, but stopped when his gaze fell on the notes that had been scribbled on the notepad in front of the sleeper. He knew that handwriting almost as well as his own, and no Visitor had ever displayed quantum knowledge before.

If Al had had a cigar in his mouth, he would have dropped it.

“Sam…?” He whispered, unable to believe what was quite possibly in front of him.

The sleeper snored again.

“Sam?” Al said quietly, and this time, the other man stirred. One hazel eye cracked open, quickly followed by the other. The hazel eyes that seemed so familiar glinted at him and a smile broke out on the other man’s face as he sat up in the leather chair.

“Al…! Where have you been? Quick… when am I? I’m back… back at the Project, but I don’t know when it is. I have to be careful not to disrupt the timeline, so I need to know when it is.” He was so intent on getting the date that he didn’t notice the shock that rippled across the Project Observer’s face. Nor did he notice the lack of the ever-present hand-link that was Al’s tie to the outside world while in the Imaging Chamber.

Al took a deep breath. “Oh… my… God… Sam…?” There was disbelief in every word but the last. A tinge of hope crept into the name of his friend, and before the other man could react, Al reached out and touched his finger against the white-clad arm of the other.

Sam jerked back, startled. “What the- you touched me! Al… you…” Sam’s eyes widened, a hope not dared before beginning to glimmer in his eyes. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Al by the arms. “What’s the date? Al… when am I??”

Al was reeling. “May… May twenty-third…two-thousand six…” It was difficult to name the date. He was having trouble thinking. Sam was right there… he’d… touched him…

Sam dashed past Al, out of the door, sliding to a halt in the middle of the darkened corridor. “I’m home!” His cheeks were wet, but he didn’t care. He was home.

PART THREE

It had taken some time to explain to an over-excited Sam that Ziggy was offline, but by the time Al had managed to gather enough of his thoughts to explain, Dominic Lofton had brought everything back online. Ziggy had immediately gone into a fit hysteria, absolutely convinced (and rightly so) that she had missed a leap. When she discovered Doctor Beckett standing in her own control room, she’d nearly fried a processor trying to figure out how he’d gotten there. Once that had settled, she dissolved into a fit of sulking and refused to be cajoled into doing anything.

Laughing, Sam had spent almost an hour coaxing her back out of her sulk, and showing her the new twists in the string theory to account for the spaces between the points. As such, it was almost seven in the morning when a loud clatter caused those in the control room to turn and look at the brunette woman who had just walked in.

Donna Elesee-Beckett generally prided herself on being unflappable. In her line of work, she had to be. While she’d often thought of what she might do if she were to find Sam returned to her, dropping her clipboard on the floor with a clatter had never crossed her mind. Unfortunately, that was precisely what she had just done.

Sam froze, memories spilling back over him, filling the Swiss-cheesed holes in his mind and closing gaps that he hadn’t known were there. He whispered her name like a prayer, and hesitantly stepped towards her. “Donna…?”

She closed the distance between them, pulling him into her embrace, alternately laughing and crying and doing everything that she had imagined herself not doing. The moment, however, froze when Sam Beckett’s gaze fell over Donna’s shoulder and onto the light-brown haired youth that stood in the hallway, eyes fixed upon him. Donna sensed the change in Sam’s stance and turned to see Stephen standing there, ostensibly summoned by Ziggy. Donna motioned for him to enter, and as Stephen approached, Sam dropped to his knees to look at his son.

Neither scientist nor youth said anything for the longest time, and Al and Donna traded concerned looks over their heads. At length, Sam’s voice broke the uncertain quiet. “You look like your mother.”

Stephen quirked an eyebrow in a fashion rather like Donna’s, but his hazel eyes matched Sam’s when he smiled wryly. “No, I don’t. I look like you. Even Ziggy says so.”

Ziggy, for her part, remained suspiciously silent. Al wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t still sulking about Sam’s leap in.

Sam stood, resting his hand lightly on Stephen’s shoulder and looked to Donna. “Have you eaten? I could use some breakfast…”

Donna knew the excuse was to go somewhere else, and she was grateful for it. The brief encounters that Stephen had had with Sam before were fleeting at best, and if Sam was home… she was determined that he’d get to know his son.

The trio trekked down to the canteen in awkward silence. Neither father nor son knew what to say, and Donna had a sneaking suspicion she would have to be the one to pry both of them out of their all-too-alike shells.

It was Sam who ultimately broke the silence as they entered the canteen, looking over to Stephen with a smile. “So Al tells me that you’re the one responsible for the holographic interface to Ziggy.”

That was all that was needed, Donna would reflect later. The two immediately began discussing Ziggy, the holographic interfaces, and half a dozen other things that Donna only half caught as she picked through her breakfast. When Al stuck his head into the room, she waved him in and he wandered over to the table where they were sitting, an unlit cigar in his hand.

“Heya kids, how’s it going?” Al asked as he walked up. Stephen grinned at him, and Sam felt a curious stab of something that he suspected was jealousy. Granted, Stephen had known Al for the entirety of his life, but… the Quantum Physicist sighed and shook his head. “Stephen here was explaining to me how he and Sammy Jo…” Another memory fell into place, and all color drained from his face as he looked to Donna. “Sammy Jo…”

Donna smiled. She’d had ten years to get used to that, and Sam… she thought for a moment how gentle it must be to her husband’s soul at times that memories were lost. “Sam, it’s okay. I understand.” There had been a time, of course, when she hadn’t understood, hadn’t even wanted to understand. However, that time was past, and she’d discovered that things had a way of working out the way that they needed to work out at the Project. Everyone was there at the Project because they were supposed to be. She couldn’t know how many the Project had been missing before Sam had begun leaping, herself included. But she did know that Sam had a knack for finding the right person for the Project when they needed it the most. Dominic Lofton and his wife included.

Sam didn’t look entirely convinced, and he sat back in his chair and sighed, wiping his hand over his face. Before he could say anything further, Donna’s wrist unit beeped, and Ziggy interrupted the breakfast. “Doctor Elesee, the paperwork for Stephen’s trip tomorrow has arrived and needs to be signed before he will be allowed to participate. Shall I authenticate it for you?”

Sam frowned, leaning forwards again to pick up his cup of coffee. “Trip? What trip?” He took a sip, looking at Donna expectantly.

Donna had completely forgotten the trip to El Paso in the excitement of finding Sam returned to her. “Oh… well…”

Before she could reply, Stephen answered for her. “Go ahead and discard it, Ziggy. I’m not going.”

Three adult pairs of eyes turned to the youth, varied questions flickering across all of them. Al knew that the trip was all that Stephen had talked about for the past week. They were going to go the Chamizal National Memorial Park, and then on to the Insights El Paso Science Center, and spend the night in the Observatory. At their expressions, Stephen shrugged. “Dad’s home.”

“Doctor Elesee? Doctor Beckett?” Ziggy prompted for clarification.

Sam sipped at his coffee and looked to Donna, then to Stephen. “If that’s what you want, Stephen…?”

His son nodded. “They’ll go back to the Science Center again. I’ll go next time.” He pushed the scrambled eggs around on his plate, and finally put the fork down.

Donna smiled and looked at Sam knowingly. “That’s fine, Ziggy. Discard the permission forms, please.”

“As you wish, Doctor Elesee, I will draft a letter notifying the coordinator that Stephen will not be participating. Don’t worry a thing about it.” Ziggy replied with the sullen air of one much put-upon and switched off the communications system, effectively ending the conversation. Donna shot Sam a look as if to say that it was his entire fault that Ziggy’s ego was over inflating again.

“So… Stephen…” Sam ventured, trying to ignore the look on his wife’s face, “How about you give me the grand tour of your lab. You do have one, don’t you?”

Instantly, Stephen looked wary. “Well… I… It’s…” He thought briefly of telling his father about Dante, and then thought the better of it.

Donna looked at Sam with a smile. “It’s a very private lab. I haven’t even been there. So far, the only person lucky enough to have that honor is Sammy Jo.”

Stephen made his decision immediately. “I’ll show you. Maybe you can help me.” He put his fork down and looked over to his father. “Do you want to go now?”

Sam picked his napkin up out of his lap and draped it on his plate, standing. “No time like the present…” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that for the bad joke that it was, but paid it no attention as Stephen got up and headed for the door. With a quick kiss to Donna’s cheek, Sam followed.

Donna Elesee-Beckett sat at the table, looking at two nearly identically dropped napkins on plates. “Two of them…”

“Can the world handle it?” Al asked, sticking the unlit cigar in his mouth and wishing yet again that he hadn’t promised Beth that he’d quit smoking. His eyes widened. Beth. She and Sammy Jo were off base today. They don’t know… “I’m going to go call Beth and Sammy Jo. They ought to know that Sam’s home…” He spun around and headed for his office, leaving Donna to her own devices.

She sat back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ziggy…?”

The honeyed voice replied almost instantly from the overhead speaker, as if she had been listening in the entire time. “Yes, Doctor Elesee?”

“Something tells me that I’m not going to keep Sam. See if you can find out why he’s here?” Donna said, closing her eyes and trying to put her worries away from her.

“I cannot predict the future, Doctor Elesee,” Ziggy replied in a petulant voice. “That talent is reserved for charlatans and con artists.”

Donna sighed, opening her eyes and sitting up, reaching out to pick up the dishes. “I have faith in your ability to make accurate predictions based on the world around us, Ziggy.”

“Isn’t that what this entire project is about, Doctor Elesee? Leaps of faith?” Ziggy retorted, her voice irritated. “I am a parallel-hybrid computer. Leaps of faith are reserved for human computers.”

Donna could have quoted that line along with Ziggy. It was, she had found, Ziggy’s favorite line when the computer didn’t want to do something. “Very well, Ziggy. I won’t ask you to do anything beyond your scope of programming.” She stood, carrying the plates to the wash-window. “I simply thought that you would be capable of running real-time scenarios based on current events. I suppose I was mistaken.”

No sooner had Donna Elesee set the dishes on the counter had Ziggy snapped back a sulky reply. “I am perfectly capable of compiling data on which to run current event based scenarios. With the recent upgrades and direct network interfaces for the Internet backbone, I am now capable of…” There was a pause as Ziggy’s ego ran headlong into a contradiction of her own crafting. “I see what you mean, Doctor Elesee. I will monitor current events and keep you informed of my findings.”

“Thank you, Ziggy,” Donna smiled to herself as she exited the canteen. Sometimes, Ziggy’s ego made things far easier than not. So why didn’t the men of the Project understand that?

The hallway that Sam followed Stephen down was one of the original hallways, a throwback to a time when things were still so very new, so untested. They stopped at a nondescript door, and Stephen entered a pass code. Eyebrow arched, Sam recognized the date: his first leap. He said nothing, however, as the door slid open and Stephen beckoned him to follow inside.

Hours later, Sam and Stephen were both deep in discussion over the Mark Three handlink that Stephen was working on when the door opened and a female voice called out: “Stephen? Dad? Are you in here?”

Sam looked up from the plastic polymer overlay he was showing Stephen to see Sammy Jo standing there, grinning at him with an expression so very much like his own and Stephen’s that he wondered how there could be any doubt that she was his daughter.

She walked around the table and reached out to him. “Dad… I can hardly believe it. You’re… here…” They hugged, and Sam watched as Sammy Jo ruffled Stephen’s hair while Stephen showed her the progress that the two had made on the new handlink. He had a family. He belonged. But somewhere, deep inside his heart, he knew that it wasn’t going to last.

Unexpectedly, he caught up Sammy Jo’s arm. “Come on… I have an idea…”

PART FOUR

An hour later, a strange little caravan was heading away from Stallion’s Gate, two cars moving in procession towards the nearby city. Sam, Donna, Sammy Jo and Stephen were in the first car, Donna driving. Al Calavicci, with his wife sitting beside him shaking her head in disbelief, drove the second car.

“Al… when you called to tell me that Sam was back, I could hardly believe it.” Beth said quietly, watching the taillights of the car in front of them.

“Beth, you can’t imagine what I thought when I saw him sleeping in his chair like he used to, notes scribbled on a notepad on the desk as if he’d fallen asleep writing them,” Al replied, following Donna out onto the main road that would lead off the military’s grounds.

“Do you think he’s home for good? I mean, that he’s finished leaping?” His wife asked hesitantly, as if she was afraid that she didn’t want to know the answer.

Al shook his head. “I don’t know, Bethie. I just don’t know. But I do know that he’s got something up his sleeve just like he used to, and there is no telling where we’re going to end up tonight, or what we’ll all be doing.”

Beth laughed softly, recalling some of the wilder days during the Starbright Project… memories that she and Al shared only because Sam had told her to wait for Al. She’d put those two things together shortly after Al finally told her what was really going on at the Project, but she’d kept it a secret. Al had his hands full enough trying to help Sam; he didn’t need a stress of a past possibility that she wouldn’t have been there for him if it hadn’t been for Sam.

It was why Beth alone knew precisely how much Al Calavicci meant to Sam Beckett.

They pulled up in front of a nondescript building, and it became clear why Sam had insisted that everyone dress nicely when he herded them all into the photography studio. There was much banter, much bicker, and Sam went from delighted at the chance for photos to wondering what the Hell had possessed him to suggest this.

The photographer was unused to such a large and vociferous group, and Sam had to raise his voice twice before things calmed down. “Look… Can’t I get pictures of everyone? You’re my family… all of you. So sit down, shut up, and put up.” He grinned as he said it, winking at Stephen, who started to laugh.

Sammy Jo grabbed Al and sat him down on the stool in front of the camera, then pointed for Beth to perch on his lap. The moment she sat, however, she shot right back up with a holler to turn around and swat her husband hard on the arm. “Albert Calavicci, keep your hands to yourself!”

Gales of laughter erupted throughout the room, and Beth smiled sweetly at Al, who was uncharacteristically scarlet-faced and busy explaining that he hadn’t done a thing, but Donna and Sam refused to believe him. Sammy Jo, on the other hand, believed, but she was still laughing at the joke Beth had played on Al. Once they settled down, the photographer managed to get several good shots of Al and Beth, and then they traded for Sam and Donna.

Sammy Jo again insisted on arranging the poses, and the photographer good-naturedly went along with her. She added Stephen after a few shots, and then, at everyone’s insistence, she joined in.

Donna insisted on a shot of Sammy Jo with Sam, and then a shot of Sam with Stephen. Beth’s eyes widened at the same smile on Sam and Stephen’s faces, realizing how very much like Sam his son was. It had been so long since she’d seen Sam that she hadn’t seen the similarity.

Al leaned into her. “Like a carbon copy, isn’t he?” His voice held something that Beth suspected was awe and maybe a bit of jealousy. They’d ended up with four girls and no boys, after all.

“Careful dear. You’ll date yourself using those descriptives,” Beth patted him on the arm. He shot her a look, but then was distracted when Sam called them over.

He insisted on a big group sitting, and that was the biggest headache, but through it all, Sam knew that this was something that they all needed. A memory that wouldn’t fade. Tangible proof that they were all together for once, no matter what happened to him.

Jokes flew back and forth as they posed for the camera, Al quipping something about a harem, and Sam retorting that it was a church choir. Stephen proclaimed it a bunch of adults being silly, and everyone including the photographer started to laugh and agreed.

Before they were finished, Sam realized that there were no shots of himself and Al… so they had a whole new bout of bickering while Al loudly protested that he’d had enough photos taken of himself to last him a lifetime.

“Al… just get over here,” Sam grumbled, grabbing the white sleeve of the silk jacket Al was wearing and dragging the protesting Admiral in front of the camera. Sammy Jo grabbed a nearby stool, making her father sit on it, largely because Sam was so much taller than Al. She tucked Al in behind on Sam’s right, but before the shot could be taken, however, Beth bustled up and straightened Al’s bright red tie with a cluck of her tongue. She winked at Sam, and then moved out of the way so that the photos could be taken.

In the end, there were over thirty good shots, and the photography session bill was encroaching on four hundred dollars. Sam quite happily paid for it, knowing full well that this might be the only chance he could. He insisted on rush prints, which added another hundred dollars and earned him a suspicious look from Donna, but he waved her off, saying that he wanted to send one of the shots of himself and Al to the board of directors, just to tweak them a bit.

Dinner, at Sam’s insistence, was in town at a fairly nice steak restaurant. One comment led to another comment, and soon everyone was discussing his or her favorite leaps, Sam included. Some of the answers had surprised Sam. He hadn’t expected Donna to mention the triad of leaps that had resulted in Sammy Jo’s birth.  Stephen confessed that there were some leaps that Ziggy wouldn’t allow him to watch, and Sam had to concede that it was probably for the best. He knew it was hard enough on Al.

Sammy Jo simply grinned at Sam and told him that she was fondest of the moment when he told her that he loved her back when she was a little girl, and that was the leap that she kept closest to her heart. That sparked a round of glasses clinking and smiles shared around the table.

Al was torn over his favorite leap, trying to decide between the leap where Sam had been a beauty queen contestant, or the second leap with Teresa… even though he didn’t care for Angelita.

Beth grinned and told on Sam’s undocumented leap where he had told her that Al was alive and coming home. Tears filled her eyes, and Al, who had not heard the details, turned to Sam with suspiciously bright eyes himself. Sam, for his part, gave Al that Beckett grin, reminding Al that sometimes rules were there to be bent and occasionally outright broken.

Sam didn’t impart his favorites until they started badgering him, and as he thought through them, he found that some were fading, easing from his memory like dust blowing off of a dry surface. Some of the more difficult leaps were becoming the hardest to remember, the memory of pain dulled to almost nothing, the fears and terrors dissolved into wispy impressions of thought. He didn’t tell them this, however, instead bringing up his leap back, where he had the fun of picking mercilessly on Al as the hologram.

He told them how Al had jumped so badly when he’d opened the door through Sam, and while Al gave him a dirty look, he grudgingly admitted that he had probably deserved it. “At least I didn’t make you walk into every single men’s room in the town. Honestly, if I see one more exemplary example of Porcelain Americana…” He trailed off into a laugh at Sam’s expression and lifted his hand to stave off whatever Sam had to say. “I know, buddy, I know. It’s the most private room in the house.” The table burst into laughter again, but Stephen was lost to a yawn.

By the time they returned to the Project, Sam had carried a sleeping Stephen to the car, and he sat in the back with him while Donna drove and Sammy Jo sat in the front. It had been a long day for everyone, but Sam didn’t have the heart to call it off early just so Stephen could go to bed. Staying up late once wouldn’t kill the boy.

When they got back, everyone hugged goodnight, and Sammy Jo took Stephen off to tuck him in bed, leaving Sam and Donna together.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to forget everything and everyone else.

PART FIVE

In the morning, Sam showered, dressed, got distracted and found himself showering again with a laughing Donna. At length, he found himself dressed and in the Control Room, reviewing the new algorithms in the string theory to allow for the seemingly paradoxical temporal havens that he vaguely recalled discussing with someone.

Satisfied with the results, he told Ziggy where to integrate them, and motioned Al aside.

“Al… I’m not sure about this, but I have this feeling that I’m not going to be staying. I don’t know how, but its just there,” Sam said quietly.

Al Calavicci sighed in dismay. “Is that what the big push was last night, Sam? You wanted to give Donna and the kids something to remember?”

Sam nodded guiltily, looking at his best friend. “You can’t tell them, Al. I can’t see the hurt in their eyes, not knowing when I’m going to vanish into thin air again.” It was a burden that he was not putting on Al lightly, and he knew it.

Al sighed again and nodded. “You’re a good man, Sam. They won’t find out from me. You have my word.”

Sam sighed and nodded. “Thanks, Al. And… in case I forget to say it later, thank you. You’ve saved my life more times than I care to count, and you’re always there for me. I’ve always appreciated that more than you can know.”

Al shrugged it off, but he and Sam both knew the words had done what they needed to do.

“Doctor Elesee?” Ziggy’s voice interrupted Donna’s morning routine of checking on various processes and subprocesses.

“Yes, Ziggy?” Donna replied, checking off some of her morning checklist as she reviewed the contents of her clipboard.

“I have been unsuccessful in hypothesizing the reason for Doctor Beckett’s return leap. I can only surmise that it involves someone here at the Project. I will begin considering scenarios that evolve from daily activities within the Project and keep you advised.”

Donna nodded, noting the sullen tones in the voice. Ziggy hated to be wrong, and she knew it. “Please let me know the moment you come up with something, Ziggy.” She shook her head and checked off another item on her list. Every part of her screamed to be with Sam, to keep him close to her, but the scientist within her knew that she had a job to do as well as he. And speaking of jobs, she was meeting Stephen shortly in the canteen to set up the special lunch for Sam and everyone at the Project… She set the clipboard on the hook, heading first for her son’s lab. Knowing him, he was glued to whatever he and Sam had devised last night and would have to be practically dragged out to help.

Sam set his hand on the green panel, the beam of light scanning his handprint and accessing the higher functions within the hybrid computer. Ziggy was suspiciously silent, and he arched an eyebrow as he looked across the room at Dom. “Ziggy?”

“Yes, Doctor Beckett?” Ziggy replied instantly, no trace of a sulk in her voice.

“Project the percentages of the new algorithms allowing you to map the leaps,” Sam said, knowing full well that Ziggy would refuse.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Beckett, but it is impossible to project a map of that which does not exist, no matter the mathematical algorithms,” Ziggy replied in her maddeningly smug voice.

Sam shook his head and sighed. Dom grinned at him. “Don’t let her boss you around like that, Sam.”

Al nodded emphatically. He didn’t need to be in the Control Room, didn’t have anything to do in there, but he felt the need to be near Sam. After all these years of standing in the Imaging Chamber helping his friend… it didn’t feel right to be somewhere else.

Sam smirked at both Dom and Al, and then keyed a few new commands into the console before him. “Ziggy… run Leap 23 through the new algorithms and see if they predict departure and arrival. Seeing as we know where I went after that, we should be able to see if the new algorithms can account for the time lapse between leaps and project where I would leap.”

“The results were inconclusive, Doctor Beckett,” Ziggy said complacently.

Sam wondered again for the hundredth time why he’d allowed them to talk him into giving Ziggy her own ego, and glared at the small screen before him. The algorithms had made so much sense when he’d leaped in. Why were they losing tangibility as he stood looking at them? Something began nagging at him, and he shook it off by picking on Al’s latest ensemble.

Donna and Stephen arrived after a while, and informed everyone in the Control Room that a luncheon was set up in the canteen; didn’t everyone want to come along?

The primary staff of Project Quantum Leap spent the afternoon chatting and eating and generally kicking back and enjoying themselves. It was something that they hadn’t done in such a long time that it took an hour for people to get used to casual chatter and to stop bringing up work.

When everyone had finished eating and the casual chatter had given way, Sam stood up and thanked everyone for the years of dedication and hard work. He praised those lost, even though he had had very little contact with St. John, and expressed hope for the future of the Project.

After his speech, Sam jokingly told everyone to get back to work, and laughing, the staff returned to their duties in better moods than they had been in for years.

The Control Room was busy, abuzz with people and constant commotion as the afternoon stretched on. Sam tweaked a few settings on one of Stephen’s inventions while Donna and Al looked over the latest reports from the bean counters. Sam Beckett’s presence had convinced them to allocate more funding, and things were looking up.

“Doctor Beckett…?” Ziggy’s dulcet tones rang over the Control Room, causing everyone to look up.

Sam Beckett had one of those hunches. Call it superstition, if you would, but the old Beckett Hunch was rarely wrong. Acting on that hunch, he grabbed Donna and Stephen and hugged them both fiercely. Carefully controlling his voice, he replied. “Yes, Ziggy?”

The tone in Sam’s voice made Al look up from the clipboard. Sam was looking at him over Donna’s shoulder as he hugged his wife and son even tighter to him. As Al recognized the look in Sam’s eyes, his stomach sank. Oh no…

“I am picking up a report on one of the local news channels about an accident on Interstate 10 where it intersects with Highway 54. An eighteen-wheeler traveling Eastbound on Interstate 10 drifted into the right-hand lane and collided with a charter bus, pushing the bus and the truck into the support strut for the overpass above.” Ziggy’s dispassionate voice rattled off the facts with a striking similarity to the detached feeling that was building around Sam Beckett.

“Doctor Beckett, I have also accessed the records for the trip to El Paso that Stephen was to have participated in. The company of the charter bus involved in the accident matches the company that was supposed to have been transporting the participants.”

Al, Donna, Stephen and Sam all felt their blood run cold as Ziggy continued. “There are more details coming. The eighteen-wheeler was actually a fuel tanker, and there have been reports of an explosion at the accident site, resulting in damage to both Highway 54 and Interstate 10.”

Al was the one who managed to find his voice first. “Are there reports of survivors, Ziggy?”

“None as of yet, Admiral.”

The old familiar and yet somehow forgotten tingle ran along Sam’s fingers, creeping up his arms. Tears prickled in his eyes as he hugged his family closer, reaching his fingers out to Al, who dropped the clipboard and caught his hand tightly. “I love you guys,” Sam managed to choke out before the tingle edged itself with blue and he vanished once more in the sparkling blue dazzle of the Leap.

PART SIX

Several days had passed, but there was still no sign of a Leapee. The Waiting Room was dark, and Ziggy was refusing to use the new subroutine to see if Sam was in what he had called a temporal haven. Irritated, Al had decided that he’d had enough, and went for a walk.

His walk took him towards the upper offices, the aboveground complex that spanned over the true Project. It was where Donna’s office was, so he turned down the hallway and knocked lightly on her door.

He could hear the distraction in her voice when she called for him to open the door, and he stuck his head in and looked at her. “Am I interrupting anything, Donna?”

She was sitting at her desk, a myriad of color photos spread out across anything vaguely flat, and she had one of the photographs in her hand. This she shook at Al as he entered her office and crossed the room to walk behind the desk and look at the photographs that had been taken only a few days ago.

The one in her hand was the shot of Sam and Al together.

“You’re not smiling. Neither of you are smiling in this photograph.” She held it up to Al, a slightly accusatory tone in her voice.

He took the image, looking at the expression on his best friend’s face. Being that he had been behind Sam, he hadn’t seen what the camera had. He hadn’t seen the tight-lipped smile, the unspoken worry and emotions that had leaked into Sam’s eyes when the camera lens snapped. The set of his shoulders as he deliberately held them at ease… Al looked back at Donna. “He knew that he wasn’t staying.” He offered the photograph back, but when she turned away, he set it on the desk, atop the identical smiles of Sam and Stephen.

“You could have told me,” Donna said quietly, looking out of her window and off across the desert sands.

“He didn’t tell me then. I didn’t know until the next morning. And when I had the chance to have told you… he’d already leaped.” Al’s voice was quiet as well, heavily tinged with regret and pain. He kept it secret that he wouldn’t have told her anyway. He’d promised Sam.

She sighed and stood, walking to the window and looking out. “I think we all knew, Al. I think even Ziggy knew, but didn’t want to admit it. She was testy and unwilling to run any program that might reinforce that suspicion.”

“That’s why he did what he did, Donna. For one night, we were all a family. For one brilliant night, none of us worried what Sam might leap into, we didn’t once think about budget cuts and alternative power sources. Can you blame him for not wanting to ruin that? Can you blame him for not wanting you to look at him all the time wondering when he’d just up and vanish?” Al knew his words were harsh, but he also knew that they had to be. He’d sooner eat his favorite red hat than hurt his best friend’s wife…

She sighed, lowering her head. “I know, Al. It just makes me so angry. All of that happiness… for only two nights.”

“That’s why he had these taken,” Al said softly, reaching out to the photos strewn across her desk and uncovering the one of Sam and Sammy Jo. “He’s in almost all of these photos, all but the ones of me and Beth. Most of them, he’s laughing and smiling.” A thought occurred, and he picked up the photo of himself and Sam again, walking with it over to the window. “What did he say when we took this shot?”

“He wanted to send a copy to the board. To… tweak them a bit,” she replied, glancing back at it.

Al’s smirk was prevalent on his face when he held up the photo for both of them to see. “Look at it as if you were a Board member. Now what do you see in his eyes? A challenge? That tight smile says ‘here I am and here’s the proof.’ Out of all of these photos, this one is a message. He’s wordlessly reminding them that he’s still out there. There’s a Board meeting soon. That’s why he paid for the rush development. He wanted this to be waiting for them, so that they couldn’t say he’d run out on them.”

Donna looked at the photograph in a new light. That was the same expression of grim determination that Sam was known for when having to deal with people who refused to see their hand in front of their face. She sighed, turning to look to Al. “You’re right, you know. You’re absolutely right. And while I may not like it, I have to live with it. Until he comes home again, this time he’s left me something to remember him by.”

Ziggy’s uncharacteristically soft voice interrupted. “Doctor Elesee?”

Donna looked towards the console on her desk. “Has he leaped?” She took two strides across the room, reaching out to turn the console around to face her.

“No, Doctor. I am simply following my instructions and delivering a message that was left for you. I am to instruct you to go to Doctor Beckett’s office and unlock the center drawer of his desk,” Ziggy replied.

Donna arched an eyebrow and looked to Al. “Where is the key, Ziggy?”

The reply was prompt. “Stephen has it.”

PART SEVEN

Donna had left Al standing in her office, running for the elevator and pushing the button for the floor where the room that Stephen used as his lab was.

The elevator didn’t move as fast as she wanted it to, and she ran the length of hallway down to Stephen’s door, knocking loudly when she reached it. She was out of breath when he opened the door, a small brass key in the palm of his hand. He grinned at her as she took it, and watched her run back down the hallway to the elevator.

He knew what was waiting for her. After all, he had helped prepare it.

The door to Sam’s office was closed, but opened at the twist of the doorknob. Gingerly, she walked into the room, pushing the door to behind her and moved to sit in the leather chair that sat behind his desk.

The key slipped into the lock and turned easily, and she opened the drawer slowly.

There was a white envelope with her name on it.

She picked it up, turned it over, and opened it, pulling out the letter within. It was written in his handwriting, and she felt the tears on her cheeks as she read it.

My Dearest Donna,

 

If Ziggy delivers this to you, then I’ve leaped again. She’s probably sulking because I forced her to run a probability on a scenario and it came out higher than she wanted to admit. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was there for Stephen, and she admitted that there was a 90% probability that I had leaped home because he needed me. You’ll know if that’s right, of course, because by the time you read this, I’ll be gone again.

 

I don’t know how or when I’ll be back… but I promise you, I’ll come back. You are my love, my life, and the woman I chose to be my wife… and no matter what memories the leaps take from me, a part of my soul remembers you.

 

Don’t be too hard on Al; I couldn’t tell him much, either. It was kinder to all of you if I didn’t tell, didn’t make an overly big to do about it. I couldn’t bear to think of you having to look at me and wonder when I’d leap, or wonder when I wasn’t going to be there suddenly.

 

I look back at the past two days, realizing how special they have been to me, and to you. You’re there, fighting every day for the Project, keeping things together and running smoothly while I’m leaping through time. And even if I don’t remember, I appreciate what you are doing.

 

There’s a box in the back of the drawer where this letter was. Open it, and take heart from what you find in it. Don’t let them railroad you into anything, don’t let them drag you down.

 

                                                I love you,

                                                Sam

Donna pulled the drawer open again, reaching in the back of the drawer that she couldn’t quite pull all the way out, fingers hitting up against something. She retrieved a white box and pushed the drawer shut as she sat the box on the desk and opened it.

A pendant glittered in the half-light, diamonds and gold in the shape of a star, the note underneath reading: Remember Your Stars, Love Sam.

Tears falling harder than ever, she pulled the necklace out and put it around her neck, fumbling the clasp twice before it caught. A piece of paper was tucked up into the lid of the box, and she tugged it out to find a much more personal letter. She sat back in the chair, reading the letter to herself.

Al stood in the hallway, looking into Sam’s office for a moment, noting the necklace and the tears on Donna’s face as she read a letter. He had come down to ask if everything was okay, but the look on her face told him that she’d be happier alone for now.

He turned, walking down the darkened hallway, heading for his own office when the chime overhead indicated that Sam had leaped. Without skipping a beat, Al Calavicci, Project Observer spun around and headed back to the Control Room, ready to help Sam however he could.