VIRTUAL SEASONS EPISODES |
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Theorizing
that one could time-travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett led an
elite group of scientists into the desert to develop a top-secret project
known as Quantum Leap. Pressured
to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Beckett prematurely stepped into
the Project Accelerator…and vanished. He
awoke to find himself in the past, suffering from partial amnesia and facing
a mirror image that was not his own.
Fortunately, contact with his own time was maintained through
brainwave transmissions with Al, the Project Observer, who appeared in the
form of a hologram that only Dr. Beckett can see and hear. As
evil ones do their best to stop Dr. Beckett’s journey, his children, Dr.
Samantha Josephine Fulton and Stephen Beckett, continuously strive to
retrieve their time-lost father and bring him home permanently.
Despite returning home several times over the last decade, Dr.
Beckett has remained lost in the time stream…his final fate no longer
certain. Trapped in the past and driven by an unknown force, Dr. Beckett struggles to accept his destiny as he continues to find himself leaping from life to life, putting things right that once went wrong with the hopes that his next leap…will be the final leap home.
PROLOGUE May
1985
The air felt heavier than
normal as twenty-nine year old Jack Anderson looked through the glass that
blocked the Hilldale Federal Credit Union from the hallway in which Jack now
stood. While Jack hadn’t been a member of the Hostage Negotiation Team of
the San Diego Police Department for long, this wasn’t his first assignment
either. He knew the situation could get ugly quickly if there was one wrong
move and he was determined to have this situation come out for the best,
especially for the eight people who were sitting on the floor, handcuffed to
each other in a circle. In
small towns such as Hilldale everyone knew everyone else.
That meant that, having been born and raised in this little town,
Jack knew every single one of the hostages in there. Some he had even
graduated high school with. Two of the hostages he was especially close to
– Daniel Shanks and Samantha Tapping. They were brother and sister,
Samantha having married shortly after graduating with Jack. If Jack had
known that Daniel and Samantha were two of the hostages in the Federal
Credit Union, he might have insisted that his superiors send someone else to
Hilldale to negotiate the situation. But they sent him anyway and he took
the job, thinking that his already knowing the layout of the building would
help bring the situation under control. He
looked at the man pacing on the other side of the glass wall. They’d been
at this for hours and Jack thought he was getting to the man. Hopefully, he
could end this standoff before the top of the hour. “Harry,
I know you,” Jack told him. “You don’t really want to hurt all these
people. You just want justice. Let them go and I promise I’ll do
everything that I can to make sure you get that justice.” Forty-seven
year old Harry Macklin, a third generation “Harry...”
The
sound of Jack Anderson’s voice jerked Harry Macklin back to the moment and
he stopped in front of the locked glass door and glared at the younger man.
“Justice?” he spat the word, gripping the nine millimeter Glock
tighter. “How? These bastards
are taking my house! They
didn’t even have the decency to talk to me when I tried to get them to
give me a little more time.” His
anger burned hotly as he flung bitterly at the negotiator, “My wife just
died two weeks ago! Jake Harmon knew that…” Turning slightly, Harry
aimed an accusing glare at the bank manager cowering beside one of the women
then turned back to face Jack Anderson through the glass. “Hell, he was at
the funeral! But what did he do
before my Sarah was even cold in the ground?
This!” Furiously, Harry snatched the crumpled lawsuit papers from
inside his jacket and shook them. “And when I came in to see him yesterday
about it, all Jake Harmon said was for me to get an attorney, that he
couldn’t talk to me.” Shoving
the papers back into his jacket pocket, Harry stated darkly, “He’s
listening now but that’s only ‘cause he’s scared shitless that I’m
gonna blow his brains out.” Jack
listened to Harry carefully, looking at him with genuine sympathy. "I'm
sorry, Harry. I remember Sarah. She was a good woman. But let me ask you
something. Would Sarah want you to do this? Would she want you to risk
innocent people's lives like this? Or would she rather you and me and Mr.
Harmon to sit down and come to an agreement?" He tilted his head to try
to get a look at Harry's face, wanting to gauge what was going on in his
head. "I think she'd rather we talk this through in a calm and rational
manner without any lives being in danger." It
seemed to Jack that he was getting through to Harry with his words. He just
needed a little more of a nudge. Goodness knows that after five hours of
talking to Harry, Jack was certainly ready for the end of this and he had a
feeling that Harry was ready for the end of it too. The question was how it
was going to end - with Harry giving himself up or with nine or more people
dead.
"Honor her memory, Harry. Sarah wouldn’t want you or
anyone else to die and neither do I. Let's end this, Harry. I give you my
word that I'll do whatever I can to help you but you have to let them
go."
As he listened to Jack Anderson talking, inside, Harry could almost
hear his late wife saying the same thing.
His lips pressed harder together and he squeezed his eyes shut, as he
always did when Sarah had him “dead to rights” about something and he
was about to agree with her. It’s
not fair, Sarah, Harry argued silently to the precious memory but the
argument was over as soon as it started.
Still, as he opened his eyes, his gaze fixing on the negotiator
watching him, Harry really felt the weight of the weariness of the five-hour
stand-off pressing in on him. It
was in that moment that he made his decision. “These
are my terms,” he began, pausing only to swing his head around to glare at
the sound of soft sobs and gasps from the hostages. When they were quiet
again, Harry turned back to face Jack Anderson. “First,
they go out one at time, hands on their head.
I’m gonna watch every one of ‘em till they get to the end of the
hall,” Harry glanced down the empty hallway stretching behind Jack for a
moment. “When the last one’s out of building, you can come in, but if I
see even one cop, Jack.” Harry
paused and stared long and hard into the other man’s eyes.
“I’m gonna start shooting.” He took a breath then added almost
as an afterthought, “I almost hope one shows up when Harmon goes out.”
Watching Jack Anderson nod even as he voiced his understanding of the few
terms, Harry stood a bit straighter. Though weary and ready to end the stand
off he said, “One last thing, Jack. I
know I’m going to jail for this. I’m not stupid enough to think
otherwise, so know now…I’m not afraid to die.”
For
a moment again Harry turned back to the hostages, his gaze fixing instantly
on Jacob Harmon’s pale, sweating face.
“Five minutes of basic human decency from you, Jake, could’ve
avoided all this.” Harry shook
his head slowly at the way the credit union manager just licked his lips
nervously, his brown eyes big as marbles behind his glasses. “Get
up,” Harry said. He watched as the cluster of men and women got on their
feet then motioned them to come towards him. For emphasis to them that he
wasn’t bluffing about shooting, he took the safety off the Glock and
chambered a round. When the
handcuffed group was within arm’s reach of him, Harry looked each person
in the eye as he said, “Anybody gets the notion to be a hero when I unlock
the cuff to free you and it’ll be the last notion any of you get.
Everybody got that?” He
watched them nod carefully, a couple of them even whispering, “Yes.” Turning
again to face the negotiator on the other side of the glass door, Harry
said, “That goes for you, too, Jack. Not
until the last person’s down the hall and around the corner or the
deal’s off.” “You
have my word, Harry,” Jack Anderson replied, speaking clearly.
To prove his intention to honor his promise, he moved several steps
to one side of the door, keeping his hands in plain view. A
minute passed before Harry Macklin turned back to the hostages, eyed them a
second and then reached into his left pants pocket and pulled out the master
key that would unlock all the handcuffs.
Holding the Glock in his right hand, he approached two of the three
women in the group. “Hold
your hands out,” he told them, then unlocked the cuff linking them, then
moved around to unlock the one on Carolyn Carstairs’ other arm.
“Move over here,” he told her, directing her with a wave of the
gun’s muzzle toward the door. When
she was in front of the door, he said, “Put your hands on top of your
head, fingers laced. When I open
the door, you walk, not run, straight down the hall and don’t stop or take
your hands down for any reason until you turn the corner at the end of the
hall. You do anything other than
what I say and nobody else gets outta here.” “I
understand,” Carolyn Carstairs’ voice was barely a quaver as she
responded. When
Carolyn’s hands were in the required position atop her head, and after a
warning glance at the others, Harry twisted the deadbolt lock on the door
and pulled it open just far enough for her to slip out.
Quickly he relocked the door then watched his late wife’s best
friend walk down the hall and around the corner. Time
seemed to drag by as one by one the hostages were released and allowed to
slip through the door to freedom. The
credit union manager appeared to be ready to faint when it was his turn but,
to his credit, Jacob Harmon forced himself to walk quietly the length of the
hall and around the corner. Finally,
only two hostages were left. Jack
felt like he was holding his breath forever as, one by one, the hostages
were released and disappeared around the corner. Why Harry let Harmon go
before Samantha and Daniel, he didn't know. Perhaps Harry felt that they
were more valuable as hostages, especially due to Jack's relationship with
them and due to Samantha being four months pregnant with her first child. Eighteen
year old Daniel Shanks had just graduated from high school earlier that
month and was anxious to attend the graduation ceremony when he and his
sister had been taken as hostages at the credit union. What was supposed to
be a day of fun with his sister had quickly turned into a nightmare that he
was glad would soon be over. He watched as the other hostages were released,
waiting for Mr. Macklin to let his sister go. "You
next, Danny," Harry told him plainly as he watched the previous hostage
vanish around the corner. "My
sister first," Daniel protested but was quickly silenced by Samantha. "It's
okay, Danny," Samantha told him. "But,
Sam..." "Go
on," she insisted. "I'll be right behind you." The
annoyed look on Mr. Macklin's face finalized the argument and Daniel slowly
exited through the door, his hands on his head. But as he approached the end
of the hallway, his concern for his older sister nagged at him and he
hesitated at the end. Carefully, he turned his head, wanting to see if
Samantha was following him. What he did see made his eyes widen. There,
just beyond the sight of Jack Anderson and Harry Macklin was an armed police
officer. He gestured Daniel to him. "Come on," he whispered.
"Let's go."
The sight of the officer confused the young man. Didn't Jack just
promise no police? “Come
on, kid,” the police officer hissed insistently, continuing to gesture
with his hand. Daniel
continued to hesitate, blinking almost as if in a stupor as he looked at the
man’s intense expression. “But,”
he mumbled softly, his brows knitting in confusion. “Harry said …” The
stand-off had started almost as soon as the credit union had opened that
morning so Deputy Tyler Wilson, a recent addition to the local sheriff’s
office, like everyone else, had been heartened when, thanks to the earpiece
Jack Anderson was wearing, he’d heard that Harry Macklin was willing to
let the hostages go. Everything
about the release had been going like clockwork.
It was when the credit union manager had gabbled nervously that there
were only two people left inside that Deputy Wilson moved to the corner
where the hall turned toward the credit union.
It was a good plan and now, with only one hostage left after the boy,
the deputy wasn’t about to let the teenager mess it up.
It was with that flawed thought foremost in his thoughts that the
deputy, his back against the wall, edged even closer over to the corner and
glared at the boy and hissed, “Dammit, get over here!” It
was a nightmare coming to life in the middle of the day, as Daniel Shanks
intuitively knew what was about to happen but was unable to wake up from it.
As he felt his heart leap up into his throat, in some corner of his
mind it seemed like it was happening in slow motion.
The fact that it wasn’t was etched into his memory even as he
turned to face the officer, shaking his head and shouting, “No! You’re
gonna ruin it!” Cursing
under his breath, Deputy Wilson clamped his teeth together. Before
another thought crossed his mind, he took a half step into the hallway, into
the direct line of sight of the credit union, and grabbed Daniel by the
front of his shirt to yank the boy to safety. But it was too late.
He’d been seen. "You
lying son of a bitch!" Harry cried out the moment he caught sight of
the deputy pulling Daniel out of sight. He grabbed Samantha's hair and
pressed the Glock to her temple, pushing her towards the door. "I said
no cops! This is your fault, Jack! We had a deal and you blew it!"
With his last hostage in the doorway, he let go of her hair and
pulled the trigger. From
the instant he'd heard Daniel Shanks shout, "No..." Jack Anderson,
a seasoned negotiator felt his instincts about the almost completed
surrender go sour, but he held his cool, keeping his gaze focused on Harry
Macklin's face. A moment later
it was the look of angry betrayal on the older man's face as his gaze
flicked away from Jack's, focusing on what was going on at the opposite end
of the hall that told him all bets were off.
Even as Harry shrieked his accusations, Jack was reaching for the gun
nestled in his holster in the small of his back.
Whipping it around, he shouted, "Harry!"
He was met by the roar of the Glock discharging and the sight of
Samantha Tappings' lifeless body dropping to the floor. For a split second
Jack's gaze dropped to the woman's body before his training and experience
jerked him back to the moment. Without hesitation, Jack shifted his stance,
his own weapon trained on Harry Macklin.
At this moment, there was no friendship, no kinship of having lived
in the same small town all their lives between them. Right now there was
only a hostage taker who had become a killer that had to be dealt with. "DROP
THE WEAPON, HARRY!" Jack shouted, moving carefully toward the glass
door, now wedged open by the body on the floor. Inside
the little credit union, with the percussion of the shot from the Glock
still ringing in his ears, Harry Macklin took in the magnitude of what he'd
done and felt what was left of his rage and grief rooted in Sarah's death
and the lawsuit fizzle out replaced with shame and regret for what he'd
done. He was ready to put the
gun down but then he heard the sharp-edged tone in Jack Anderson's voice and
it fanned the last ember of his anger to life again. "Harry,
don't make this worse that it is already!" Jack shouted.
"Put your weapon down."
He scanned the other man's face as he continued to move forward.
He was halted just at the partially open door, the position of
Samantha Tappings’ body making it impossible to get inside the credit
union without dropping his guard. Watching
Jack's quick, careful movements, Harry Macklin read the law officer's
expression easily. It was what he saw on the law officer's face that caused
him to track Jack's movements as he came closer toward him, though still
outside the credit union. Oddly enough, it was hearing Jack address him
formally, "Drop your weapon, Mr. Macklin," that was the finish for
him. Keeping his eyes fixed on
the face of the man who had been the boy who had cut his grass in years
past, Harry Macklin sighted down the barrel of the Glock and started to
squeeze the trigger. Jack
Anderson read Harry Macklin’s expression clearly.
His training and experience were of no comfort to him as he realized
he had no other option and squeezed the trigger, watching as if in slow
motion as the bullet struck Harry Macklin, felling him where he stood, the
Glock sliding away from him on the linoleum flooring. Jack
took several steps, carefully going around the body of his former classmate
to check on the condition of the downed man.
Harry's eyes were unfocused for a moment before he caught sight of
Jack’s face as the younger man’s fingers found the pulse in the side of
his neck. "Tell
Danny... I'm sorry," Harry begged. "Gawd, what have I done?"
Almost as if it were a scene from a movie, Harry Macklin's head dropped to
the side and he was suddenly and completely motionless. Jack
sighed as he slowly stood up. There was no sense of justice having been
served, knowing that the man who killed Samantha Tapping was dead as well.
There was only a sense of deep loss. Slowly, he returned outside as members
of the SWAT team and local law enforcement swarmed into the little credit
union, went back along the hallway and started down the stairs that would
take him outside. His job was done. He just wished that he felt fulfilled
inside instead of hollow from the two lives lost. Walking
out into the street, he saw Daniel staring at the building. Shock had
plainly taken over him, not that Jack could blame him. He knew as well as
everyone that, with his sister dead, Daniel Shanks had no family. "I'm
sorry, Danny," Jack whispered to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry." The
hubbub and buzz of the swat team personnel and local law enforcement
swarming into the building and the medical personnel from an emergency
response vehicle, it all faded into the background for Jack as the
fear-numbed boy came out of his shock with a vengeance. "What
do you mean you're sorry?" he demanded, searching Jack's face, reading
Jack's face in an instant. "No!"
he shouted, his mind denying what those two words meant. "Samantha!
Where is she?" There
was no easy way to say it but Jack spoke the words as gently as he could.
"She's dead, Daniel. Mr.
Macklin shot her when....." "It's
all your fault!" Daniel screamed as planted his hands on Jack's chest
and shoved him hard. "I saw that asshole standing there at the end of
the hall!" he continued to shriek, unaware of the tears beginning to
run down his face, their appearance a mixture of his grief and anger.
"You promised him no cops, but you LIED! And now my sister's dead
because you lied!" Jack
reached out to the boy, but when Daniel slapped his hands away, snarling,
"Don't touch me, you bastard," he didn't press the issue. There
would be lots to talk about before this was all settled and sorted out.
Knowing that, however, didn't begin to alleviate the hollowness inside him
at how the situation had ended with the untimely deaths of two friends from
his youth. PART
ONE May
14, 1995
Daniel
Shanks walked into the Hilldale Federal Credit Union and waved genially to
the tellers. Ever since he had opened his tackle shop in town, after
finishing his time in the Army, he'd made a point of doing his business with
HFCU. The town hadn't changed much in the last ten years; it still was small
enough to where everyone knew everyone else. He smiled slightly at the
thought. In all likelihood, that wouldn’t ever change. Walking
to the other side of the small credit union, he gave the manager a nod and a
smile and then looked to see if anyone was really paying attention to him.
Seeing that no one was, he surreptiously lowered the Venetian blinds and
angled the blades so that the sun would shine in but you couldn't see the
parking lot below. He did the same with the other set of blinds on the wall
on the far left before going back to the door, blocking it with his body. A
moment later, he reached his hand into his Army jacket and pulled out the
nine millimeter Glock. "EVERYONE
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM NOW!" he shouted loudly, firing a single shot
into the light hanging over the middle of the credit union, sending sparks
into the air. "I SAID NOW!" "Daniel,
have you lost your mind?" Teal Judge, manager of the credit union,
demanded as she rushed out of her office and started toward Daniel. However
when he fired a second shot into the air, she skidded to a stop in her
tracks. "Daniel?" she
asked her tone and manner now cautiously apprehensive. His
years in the Army had taught Daniel many things, one of them being how to
control prisoners in a confined space. Waggling
his gun like a pointer at the now stunned and silent patrons, he verbally
nudged them toward the center of the room.
"Just do what I tell you and nobody has to get hurt," he
stated flatly. He watched the
handful of people move quickly to comply but a movement near the tellers'
window caught his eye. Turning his gaze in that direction he frowned at the
woman. "Get over here, "Okay,"
he continued. "Now everybody sit down in a circle on the floor." When
the small group of people hesitated, looking confused at his demand, he
glared at them. "What? None of you ever told ghost stories in the
woods? MOVE IT!" The
shout hurried everyone to sit. One of the patrons gasped as she attempted
not to cry from fear from the sound of the suitcase that dropped in the
middle of the circle. "Open
it," Daniel ordered Teal. "Pass them out. Everyone, handcuff
yourself to the person on your right." It took a bit of work but
somehow they managed to do just that without causing much of a ruckus.
Daniel nodded slightly at the sight. "Good,"
he told them as he opened his jacket, revealing a bomb strapped to his
chest. He tucked the Glock back into his jacket and pulled out a small round
cylindrical item - a trigger to the bomb on his chest. "Now... we
wait." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Project
Quantum Leap November 29, 2007
Admiral
Al Calavicci's brain felt as if it were about to explode. Or at least, that
was his opinion. The last leap had been exhausting and he wanted nothing
more than to slip through the complex unnoticed until he got to his
quarters. He longed to strip out of the two-day old clothing on his back,
get into a hot shower, and then slip into bed with his wife of forty-six
years. As
he stepped out of the Imaging Chamber, he took a breath and sighed, rubbing
his face, before looking around the room. Dominic had apparently called it a
night and Julianna had taken over for the night shift. Al smiled gently at
the sight of his oldest daughter dressed in a pair of blue jeans, her
favorite "Go Navy" t-shirt, and tennis shoes, her thick hair
pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. He wondered what Tuyen thought of her
working at all times of the day, and then pushed the thought out as he
walked down towards the control console. "Up
late again, I see," he told her with a little grin. "Who's
watching the munchkin?" Julianna
kept her eyes on the main control console a moment longer, watching as the
various lights winked then reset to monitoring mode, the last activity
performed after Sam leaped out of a situation.
When those specific lights were an unblinking yellow, Julianna sighed
lightly and looked up, a grin appearing on her face.
"In answer to your question, Tuyen and Jude, when I left them
about three hours ago, were in the living room with a bowl of popcorn and a
stack of Star Trek DVDs on the end table."
Her grin grew wider as her father chuckled when she added,
"Right about now, if Jude's not asleep on the couch, they’re just
about finished with the first part of their marathon." " "Yep,"
Julianna replied. "The two of them have been hatching this since Tuyen
got back from Al
enjoyed seeing his eldest daughter so relaxed and happy.
He was even more happy that GTFW's had allowed Sam to play a part in
her life to bring that happiness about with a man whom, from what he
witnessed each time he was around his son-in-law, seemed to fall a little
more in love with Julianna. "You
know something?" Al said softly, his tone drawing her attention to him. "What's
that?" Julianna asked, folding her arms on the edge of the console and
leaning casually on them, meeting her father's gaze. Whatever
he had been about to say was erased as the easy quiet of the Control Room
was rent with the too familiar claxon blaring, announcing that Sam Beckett
had leaped. Both Al and Julianna
were clearly startled. "Damn,"
Julianna commented as she grabbed another charged handlink and handed it
over to her father. "That was quick. What'd he do? Go through a
revolving door?" Al
sighed as he accepted the handlink from his daughter. "Maybe," he
commented as he started for the Imaging Chamber. "Maybe someone should
lock down that revolving door and give some of us a break." Julianna
could easily hear the fatigue in her father's voice. After years of being
his daughter, Executive Administrative Assistant, Security Systems Analyst
and part-time programmer - not to mention the special connection they had
had her entire life - she could read her father's moods in an instant. "I
could take this one, Dad," she offered. "I am neurologically
linked to Sam. You need your rest." Al
just shook his head. "Thanks, Jules. But that would just get Sam
worried. I'll go in and see how he is. Shouldn't take long." To the
look she gave him, he assured her, "I promise I'll be out in less than
ten and go right to bed." Julianna's
reply was halted by Ziggy's voice filling the room. "I
have a lock on Dr. Beckett, Admiral." Al
paused at the entrance to the Imaging Chamber at Ziggy's announcement,
looking up and around at the ceiling, as he often did when something the
computer said, got his attention. "That
was quick," he commented then continued into the Imaging Chamber.
Assuming
his position on the central pad in the chamber, Al keyed in a number code to
mark the beginning of the leap then took a deep breath and said,
"Ready." It was a tad
startling when Ziggy announced, almost as soon as the tornadic tunnel of
past time began to rotate around him, "Lock initiating."
Her words were still fading in the acoustically perfect chamber when
the white walls faded as a holographic representation of Sam's new leap
location coalesced into view. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ May
14, 1995
11:14:58
A.M. The
last vestiges of the leap in haze had begun fading from Sam's mind just as
the Imaging Chamber door opened and his Observer appeared.
The best acknowledgement the Leaper could give Al was a quick glance
then shifted his attention back to the man who had been talking to his host
when he leaped in. "Sorry
to ruin your high school reunion, Jack, but we've got a major situation
here," the older man was telling Sam firmly. "We have a couple of
witnesses who say they heard gunshots coming from the credit union on the
third floor. Then about ten minutes later we got a phone call at the office
saying that there are hostages being held up there. The caller asked for you
specifically." He looked into Sam's eyes. "Apparently your
reputation as a hostage negotiator is well-known to this yo-yo." Glancing
around the milling small crowd of people, several of which were law
enforcement, Al spotted Sam talking with a grim-faced older man and
recentered to his friend's side. He
started to speak to the Leaper but the sharp, business-like tone of another
man speaking to Sam caught his attention. Glancing up at his friend, Al
easily read the question in those green eyes but didn't say anything as he
heard what the man was telling Sam. "Hostages?"
Sam and Al said at the same time. "According
to the caller, eight," the older man told him. "He hasn't given
any demands other than he wants to talk to you." 11:16:33
A.M. Al
quickly started punching buttons on the handlink, the thought of a shower
and a night with his wife now far from his mind. Glancing at the older man,
his eyes caught the nameplate on the right side of his khaki shirt. The
Observer was grateful for small favors to see the name of the town the man
served printed beneath his name, rapidly keying that information into the
handlink. "Sam,
this is Sheriff George Davis. He's the sheriff of the town of Sam
absorbed every jot of information the Observer was feeding him then
hesitated a moment when what seemed an unusually rich flow of information
ended abruptly. Cutting his eyes
from Sheriff Davis to the hologram, Sam looked intently at him.
Before he even realized he'd done it, Sam blurted, "Daniel
Shanks?" "Daniel
Shanks?" Sheriff Davis' startled gruff voice broke Sam's concentration.
"What about Dan Shanks?" Seeing
Al's reaction to the uncharacteristic babbling he'd uttered, now coupled
with the sheriff's obvious confusion, Sam fumbled, "Uh...yeah." "Yeah,
what, Jack?" George Davis demanded. His questioning expression
deepened, as if someone had flipped the proverbial switch in the lawman's
brain. Turning his head sharply to look up at the windows of the local
credit union on the third floor of the six-story Hilldale Business Hall then
back to Sam, George Davis' voice sharpened as he demanded, "Are you
telling me that Daniel Shanks is one of the hostages?" Sam
swallowed and fumbled a moment then said, "Uh, well...no. He's not one
of the hostages. He…" "He's
the one holding the hostages, Sam," Al told him bluntly. He hit the
handlink and frowned at what he was reading. "According to the LA Times
there was a major hostage situation here on May 14th, 1995. Daniel Shanks
went into the Hilldale Federal Credit Union on the third floor of this
building and took eight people hostage. He then..." Al froze, his eyes
wide in shock. "Oh, gawd, Sam. He set off a bomb. Nine people were
killed: the eight hostages and Shanks." Pressing
the buttons on the handlink rapidly, Al had the answer to Sam's question in
seconds. "Ziggy says that according to that same newspaper article,
that Daniel Shanks detonated the bomb at 11:47 a.m."
Looking up at his friend again, he saw Sam checking the watch on his
left wrist. The way the leaper's face paled slightly told him that things
had just taken a major downward turn. Al's
tone was urgent as he demanded, "What time is it, Sam?"
To Al it felt like his heart turned to stone and plummeted to his
feet when Sam, his eyes still fixed on his watch, instead of speaking,
shifted his stance slightly, turning his wrist in such a way to allow the
hologram to see the time for himself. "Sweet
Mother of Heaven," Al whispered. Sam's
watch read: 11:19. PART
TWO 11:20:03
A.M.
Al's
hands seemed to be moving faster than they ever had before. With only
twenty-seven minutes left before nine people died in a fiery blaze, they
needed options and fast. Ziggy, as if a fire had been put under her
motherboard, was working faster and more efficiently than Al could ever
recall as he saw what could only be a godsend for them. "Sam,
Ziggy's pulled up a textbook on hostage negotiation techniques. You've got
to cut power to the building and then get on the phone with Daniel and start
talking to him." Seeing the look on Sam's face, one of complete
befuddlement, he sighed. "I wish we could get Jack in here, Sam, but
Beeks just told me that he can't even remember if the sky is blue or not so
we're on our own on this. Cut the power, Sam." Taking
a deep breath, Sam mentally shouldered the tremendous burden of, he prayed,
saving nine people lives. Turning,
he faced Sheriff Davis, now flanked on one side by one of his deputies and
on the other by a member of the SWAT team.
Seeing the SWAT team member suited up in bulletproof gear and helmets
only reinforced for Sam that time was exceedingly precious on this leap and
in too short supply. "Cut
the power to the building," he stated firmly, his gaze locking with the
sheriff's before shifting to the man in riot gear at his right.
Even as George Davis said, "It'll take a few minutes to get the
power company on the line," Sam interrupted him with an abrupt wave of
his hand. "There's
no time for a phone call," he stated flatly. "We've got to get
that power cut NOW." Turning
to the SWAT team member, Sam told him, "Find the main breakers for the
building and shut 'em down. Go on! We're wasting time." As
a couple of the SWAT team members went to obey the order, Al gestured Sam
over to the makeshift command area. The police car's radio had already been
hooked into the phone that led to the credit union three floors up. Sam
carefully sat in the front passenger's seat of the cruiser as Al crouched
beside him. "The
lack of power is going to make Daniel very uncomfortable." "And
that's good?" Sam questioned with a frown, assured that no one else
could hear him. "Well,
depends on your definition of good. We need to find out what Daniel wants
and make him feel like he's got all the control while keeping control of the
situation ourselves. The loss of power makes it more difficult for him to
get away. However, you can tell him that you're... anticipating his needs by
cutting power to the vault." "Okay,"
Sam murmured under his breath as he looked up, scanning the tight clutch of
law enforcement personnel in the area. A
vague movement caught his eye off to the left, and he turned his head to see
that two deputies had cordoned off the area and were busy keeping the locals
behind the yellow "crime scene" tape.
His jaw tightened slightly when a flash a bit further to the right
caught his peripheral vision and he followed.
"Just what we don't need right now," he muttered under his
breath. "The press." Getting out of the squad car, he added
softly, "For all we know, Shanks might be looking for media
attention."
Once
more the hologram entered the question into the handlink speedily. "No,
Sam," he responded. "According to the records and the newspaper,
no reason was ever uncovered as to what Shanks' reason was for the
bombing." Pausing he looked
up at the Leaper. The occupied
expression in those green eyes told him that the synapses of Sam's brain
were firing at a speed that probably came close to rivaling the computations
of which Ziggy was capable of executing.
"What..." The
sharp jangle of a phone ringing behind them caused Sam and Al both to jump
and turn in sync back toward the still open door of the squad car.
For a second both just stared at the handset unit set up in the front
seat of the car. A second ring
jarred Sam into action but an unexpected fast blur of movement cut him off
as the deputy who had flanked Sheriff Davis darted in to grab the phone. "This
is Deputy Judson," the young officer said clearly into the phone.
He listened then removed the receiver from his ear and held it
against his chest as he pivoted to look at Sam then held out the phone to
him, saying "You were right, Mr. Anderson. It's Daniel Shanks. Says he
won't talk to nobody but you." Al
nodded his encouragement towards Sam. "Try to convince him you're on
his side, Sam. You got to get him to let those hostages go and give himself
up." Sam
nodded slightly as he took the phone receiver and put it against his ear.
"Jack Anderson," he said plainly, his heart pounding as he prayed
that he didn't say or do anything that would make history change for the
worse. 11:24:37
A.M. Inside
the large room that housed the credit union, Daniel Shanks glanced around
the dimmed area. It hadn't
surprised him when the power had gone off suddenly a couple of minutes
before. After barking at the
nervous hostages to be quiet, he had walked over to one of the large outside
windows and carefully peered between two of the narrow slats of the blinds.
If he'd been an amateur thief after the money in the till or the
vault, Daniel might have been getting nervous. That however wasn't the case,
and he remained calm as he scanned the street outside the building, looking
for one man in particular. A
sense of impending justification sent a mild thrill through his body as he
carefully released the slats of the blinds and stepped over to the desk of
the loan officer a few feet from the window.
Dialing the number for the sheriff's office, he listened to it ring
twice. When the voice of Randy
Judson came on, Daniel let him talk then stated clearly, "Hi, Randy.
This is Daniel Shanks. I want to talk to Jack Anderson. Just him. I
hear anybody's voice but his and I'll hang up.
This is the only chance you guys get to get it right." Picking
up the phone off the desk, the receiver cradled firmly between his ear and
his shoulder, Daniel moved back to the window, pausing only to make sure the
phone cord was ample to stretch that far. It was, and once more he gently
lifted a couple of the blind slats, his gaze going immediately to the
sheriff's car and the man standing on the opposite side of it and holding a
receiver to his ear. For a
moment after he heard, "Jack Anderson," Daniel again felt a surge
of anger at the man at the other end of the line, but he kept his voice calm
and level. He wasn't going to
screw this up. “Daniel…”
Sam started, not hearing a response to his taking the call. He looked to Al
who immediately started punching information into the handlink.
“Sam, try to get him to talk about why he’s up there,” the
Observer told him, his eyes not wavering from the handlink.
“Daniel,” Sam started again. “Let’s talk about this. What’s
on your mind?” He couldn’t help but notice how nervous Al was at the
moment. He couldn’t blame him. One
corner of Daniel Shanks’ lips curled in mirthless derision upon hearing
the question. Staring hard down
at the negotiator standing by the patrol car, the phone pressed to his ear,
Daniel looked back at the hostages huddled in the middle of the credit
union’s floor then back down at the man whose gaze was now aimed upward at
the windows. “What do I want, Mr. Anderson?” he parroted the question
with cold sarcasm. He paused, as if thinking about a response then said,
“Justice, Mr. Anderson. That’s
all I want, and if
I don't get it....” "Still
got nothing," Al told Sam, his own frustration showing slightly in his
voice. Al Calavicci had had
enough experience under his belt to be able to stay calm under extreme
pressure. But in a situation like this, it was impossible for his feelings
not to show, despite his best efforts to control his emotions. "Daniel,"
Sam continued. "Help me out here. What kind of justice are you looking
for?" Daniel
smiled to himself as he answered. “Tell
you what, Mr. Anderson,” he said. “You come up here and talk to me face
to face and I’ll tell you the justice I want.”
A slight frown of suspicion knitted his brow when he observed Jack
Anderson give a slight nod then looked in the direction of Sheriff Davis and
a couple of other members of the bullet-proof vested SWAT team.
His tone was cool and menacing at the same time as he warned,
“I’m not a fool, Mr. Anderson, so let’s just cut to the chase. I know
you’ve got a SWAT team surrounding this building, but know this here and
now. If I so much as think I smell one of those crack shot SWAT team
members on the same floor as me, I’ll blow this place and everyone around
me into bits so small you’ll need a magnifying glass to find whatever’s
left of ‘em.” Daniel took a
breath, his eyes narrowed as he continued to study the scene on the cordoned
off street below. “What’s it
gonna be, Mister Anderson?” he demanded calmly. 11:23:12
A.M.
Sam
took only a moment to make his decision. Looking at Al, he said one word
into the telephone receiver. “Deal.” Getting a favorable answer from
Daniel, he hung up the phone. Al
watched with a frown as Sam hung up. “Sam, what did you agree to?” He
followed him as the physicist moved away from the police car and went to
talk to the Sheriff. “Sam, I’ve got a really hinky feeling about all
this.” Instead
of answering the Observer directly, Sam went up to Sheriff Davis.
“Sheriff,” he began, quickly amending that when Al reminded him
of Jack Anderson’s and George Davis’ mutual history as residents of
Hilldale. “George,” Sam started again. “What
does he want, Jack?” George Davis asked straight out.
He shook his head slightly at his thoughts, but then dismissed them
when the younger man spoke. “He
wants to talk,” Sam told the sheriff. “Face to face.” “No,
Jack,” George Davis stated strongly. He
didn’t even look around when the leader of the SWAT team agreed with him.
Neither man’s negative reaction had any impact on the leaper. “I’ve
already agreed to go up,” Sam responded, hurrying on in an effort to cut
off further protests by the two men. “And
I’m going alone.” Dale
Lavvermore, the leader of the SWAT team that had responded to the emergency
call from the sheriff of the small town of Sam
turned an intense look on Dale Lavvermore. “No!” he said sharply.
“Daniel said that if he even thinks he smells anyone else in the
building besides me, he’ll detonate the bomb.”
That comment diverted the man’s focus. “Where
is the bomb?” Dale asked. Sam
spared a fleeting glance at Al before meeting Agent Lavvermore’s gaze.
“Guess I’ll find that out when I get up there.”
Shifting his gaze to Sheriff Davis, Sam said,
“There must be some stairs, an emergency exit for the upper floors of the
building. Show me where they are.” His
eyes flicked from the sheriff to Dale Lavvermore when neither man moved for
a moment. Remembering what Al
had said about the original time of the detonation, Sam’s voice sharpened
as he told them, “Time’s wasting, and right now we don’t have any to
spare. Now where are those
stairs, sheriff?” 11:26:19
A.M. Sheriff
Davis sighed, shaking his head. “This isn’t a good idea,” he muttered
under his breath. However, he immediately gestured towards the building with
his hand. “Guess you forgot after all these years. They’re just to the
right of the elevator.” Al
nodded with approval, though he clearly showed apprehension on his face.
“He’s right, though, Sam. This probably isn’t such a good idea.” He
raised the handlink as if it had the answers to the meaning of life.
“Ziggy’s going bonkers on this cockamamie idea of yours to actually go
up there. It goes completely against the rulebook she pulled out. Make him
sweat, yes. Get him to talk, yes. But go up there where you can get killed
yourself, no.” He lowered his eyes at the glare Sam gave him. “But…
against everything the rulebook is saying… I’m with you on this one.” Knowing,
unlike the others, exactly how little time they truly had to, hopefully,
avoid a tragedy, Sam swept those around him with a brief look then headed
for the building. He was just
reaching for the handle of one of the building’s double glass doors when
he heard quick steps behind him. Pausing he looked around, not all that
surprised to see Dale Lavvermore within arm’s reach.
Impatiently Sam began, “You’re not coming in with me.” “I
wasn’t going to,” Dale replied. Knowing
Jack Anderson as he did, he found the other man’s sharpness more than a
bit odd. In the six years he’d
worked with Jack, the man had demonstrated in numerous and varied situations
that the more intense the situation was, the cooler Jack became.
Still, on the other hand, he could understand the sharpness. This
was, after all, Jack’s hometown, and the hostage-taker a young man he’d
known since they were both kids. Seeing
the impatience on Jack’s face, Dale added, “I know he’s watching
everything he can see from the window, Jack.
Except for under here.” He
spared a glance upward at the striped awning that shielded the entrance from
the sun then looked at his associate again. Reaching into his pocket, the
agent pulled out a tiny wireless earbud. “I just wanted to give you
this,” he said, offering it to the other man. “It’s two-way, so we can
hear what’s going on and we can communicate with you.”
Seeing the way Jack just looked at the tiny high-tech device laying
in the palm of his hand, he began to get the idea that the negotiator
wasn’t going to use it. Al
looked at the small earbud with a raised eyebrow, considering it carefully.
“Take it, Sam. At the very least, if things get ugly, they can send in the
cavalry for you. I’ve got more to tell you so don’t turn it on until you
get to the third floor. That will give us time to talk.” Slowly,
Sam accepted the earbud, holding it in the palm of his hand for a moment. Neither
Dale nor Al said anything, both watching then sighing softly when the leaper
inserted the earbud into his right ear.
As he was doing so, Sheriff Davis approached them, carrying a
flashlight in one hand. “You’ll
need this,” he told Sam, offering it. “Thanks,”
Sam said, taking the proffered flashlight. Then before anyone could say
anything else to distract or delay him, he opened the door and stepped
inside the modest lobby of the building. A quick look right then left
located the single elevator and beside it, a door marked “Stairs.” PART
THREE 11:27:43
A.M. Taking
a deep breath and blowing it out again, Sam half turned to glance out at the
two law enforcement men watching him through the glass door then walked
quickly to the marked door and entered the stairwell. Al
waited until Sam was in the stairwell before he spoke again. “How’re you
doing, Sam?” he asked with concern. Seeing the tension in his eyes, he
exhaled. “You can do this, Sam. He wouldn’t have landed you here if He
didn’t think you could. Now, like I said, Ziggy dug up some info so walk
while I talk.” He lifted the handlink as he walked along beside Sam,
adjusting the handlink so that it appeared almost as if he were walking up
the stairs with him. “Daniel
Shanks, twenty-eight years old. Ten years ago, there was a hostage situation
in this very building in the very same credit union Danny is holed up in.
The suspect held eight people and Jack negotiated the release of the
hostages. Apparently, things went sour, though, because Daniel’s older
sister, Samantha was killed. She’d raised him since he was eight and she
was nineteen, so he was very close to her. He had just graduated high school
when she died but, according to high school records, he didn’t attend his
graduation ceremony. He enlisted a few months later into the Army and became
an explosives expert. After he did his four years, he came back here and
seemed to be living a quiet life running his sporting goods shop just down
the street.” Sam’s
footsteps echoed softly within the confines of the pitch-black stairwell as
he quickly ascended the stairs, the beam from the flashlight the only
illumination. He didn’t
interrupt Al’s recitation, even when one particular point grabbed his
attention. It wasn’t until he
reached the narrow landing at the door that opened onto the third floor,
when Sam spoke. Angling the flashlight so that he could see the hologram’s
face, there wasn’t time to couch his words in a softer manner.
“Sounds to me like what Daniel wants isn’t justice, Al, but
revenge.” His stomach twisted
as he added, his tone somber, “And eight innocent people are killed over
something they had nothing to do with just so he can ruin this guy Jack
Anderson’s career.” Al
couldn’t help the concerned look on his face. “That makes him more
dangerous than we thought before.” To the questioning look Sam gave him,
Al looked directly into his eyes firmly. “He literally has nothing to
lose. He has no family, no close friends… nothing to tie him to this
world.” He paused to emphasize his next words. “Be careful, Sam. I
wouldn’t trust this guy with the key to his own house.” Sam
nodded then started to open the door but Al reminding him to turn on the
earbud stopped him. A gentle
press with the tip of his finger against the tiny gadget nestled inside his
right ear was accomplished quickly. He started when he heard a man’s voice
suddenly, demanding, “Jack, are you there? What’s going on? Jack!” It
took a couple of seconds for him to recognize Dale Lavvermore’s steady but
concerned voice. Shaking
his head slightly, Sam put a hand up to his ear, touching it lightly as he
said aloud, keeping his voice low, “I’m here and I’m fine. Just forgot
to turn the thing on.” He
nodded, listening to what Dale was saying. “Okay, I got it.” Turning his
gaze back to Al, Sam added for Dale’s benefit, “I’m going in now.”
He heard the other man tell him to stay alert before becoming silent. Opening
the stairwell door slowly, Sam shone the flashlight down the hallway before
stepping into it. Even though
the power, and therefore the air conditioning, had only been turned off a
few minutes, Sam could tell by the closeness of the air that the temperature
was beginning to rise. “Which way, Al?” he asked quietly as he closed
the door behind him. “This
way,” Al told him, gesturing for the leaper to follow him down the
darkened hallway. “It’s just around the corner.” The
short walk to the corner at the far end of the hallway took less than a
minute. Al stopped without turning, holding his hand out to stop his
partner. “Turn off the flashlight for a minute and let me go scope the
place out so we know what we’re getting into. I’ll be back in less than
a minute. Don’t move. We don’t want this guy to think something hinky is
going on.” Raising the handlink and pressing a couple of buttons, a moment
later, the Observer found himself in the middle of the credit union. “Oh,
boy,” he murmured as he looked around. 11:29:
26 A.M. It
was plainly obvious that Daniel had been planning this fiasco for a while.
The window shades allowed just enough light to see by while still giving
Daniel an advantage – he could see the police but the police couldn’t
see him. Also, with the hostages in the middle of the room and handcuffed,
he had them in plain sight no matter where he walked in the room. Al
looked at Daniel carefully and could see the bomb strapped to his chest and
the wireless remote in one hand, a Glock in his other. As for the front
door, the whole wall was glass, making it practically impossible for anyone
to sneak up on the entrance without being seen. “I
don’t like this,” he murmured to himself, raising the handlink to
re-center himself on Sam. “Okay,
listen up, Sam. I think you’re going to be completely on your own on this
one. There’s no way he wouldn’t see police coming up on that door. The
whole wall is glass. He’s actually got the bomb strapped to his body and
he has a wireless remote, which means he can easily set that thing off at a
moment’s notice. The hostages are in the middle of the room, handcuffed
together in a circle so that eliminates the possibility of getting help from
that angle. He’s also got a nine millimeter Glock and I don’t think he
has any qualms about shooting someone to get what he wants.” With
every word that Al spoke, Sam felt more and more like a man lost in the
middle of the ocean on a rickety raft and feeling the planks of the raft
falling rapidly away beneath him. The
last bit of information left the leaper clinging to very little in the way
of options to figuratively keep afloat and prevent a tragedy from being
repeated. Even worse, a glance at his watch, in the focused beam of the
flashlight showed that time was running fast against him, too. 11:30:16
A.M.
Taking a deep breath, and
blowing it out softly, Sam looked into Al’s eyes a moment before turning
on the flashlight again and starting carefully down the dark hallway.
He had only moved a few steps when he heard Dale Lavvermore’s voice
in his ear. “Jack,
what’s going on in there?” Pausing
a few feet from the glass wall of the credit union, Sam reflexively reached
to touch his ear lightly as he softly said, “I’m okay, just a few feet
from the credit union.” When
there wasn’t a response, Sam glanced at the hologram, now a fixture at his
side then continued walking. When
he reached the glass wall, he stopped and called out in a clear, calm voice,
“Daniel...Danny, it’s Jack.” He
paused, waiting for some sort of response but there was none. For a moment
he watched Al walk ahead of him then stop and look back at him. “He’s
standing about six feet back from the door,” Al told him as he met his
friend’s gaze. “He’s got the Glock aimed at the door.” He paused
then added, “Move slowly, Sam.” As
Sam started forward, Al thought of something else. “Put the flashlight in
your shirt pocket. Leave it on; that way he can see your face.” Sam
acted on the suggestion then, holding his hands up so they were easily seen,
palms forward, moved slowly forward. “Danny,
I’m coming to the door now,” he called out clearly then walked to Al
before turning to face the locked glass door. The small amount of light
seeping through the blinds on the windows inside the credit union was enough
for both of them to see Daniel Shanks, his gaze fixed on the man he saw as
Jack Anderson. His right arm was extended, the muzzle of the Glock aimed and
ready. “Hello,
Jack,” Daniel said in a low voice. “It’s been a long time. Not exactly
the most pleasant way to spend your twenty-year high school reunion, is it?
But then we all have our own ups and downs, don’t we?” His eyes didn’t
move from Sam’s face, studying it carefully. “I
suppose we do,” Sam said cautiously. “Danny…” “My
name is Daniel!” the younger man yelled at him. “I’m not eighteen
years old anymore, Jack.” He paused, a small grin forming on his lips.
“You going to try to talk me out of this situation, Jack? Don’t you want
to know why I’m doing this?” Getting no immediate answer, he continued.
“No? Some negotiator you are. How many people have died while you were on
the job, Jack? I know of at least one.” The
derisive bitterness in Daniel Shanks’ voice was unmistakable as Sam waited
for him to finish. It also
confirmed what he’d said to Al just moments before; Daniel Shanks’ only
goal was revenge. Beside
him, listening to but not focusing on Daniel’s diatribe, Al had keyed in a
request to Ziggy. The
information appeared on the handlink’s screen within a few seconds.
Pitching his voice to give Sam the information but not divert his
attention to him, the Observer said, “Sam, Ziggy has scanned all reports
of hostage situations where Jack was the lead negotiator in a case in which
either the hostage-taker or a hostage died. There have been three.” He
paused for a second then finished. “Samantha Tapping, his sister, was the
last one.” Sam
absorbed the information and stored it before addressing the man inside the
credit union, opting not to be led into a defensive argument.
“What matters right now, Daniel,” Sam said clearly, looking
beyond the gun aimed at him to the other man’s eyes, “is that nobody
dies today, including you.” “Oh,
you have my agreement there,” Daniel told him bluntly. “And that is
precisely why you are going to get me everything that I want.” “Oh,
isn’t he the confident one,” Al commented sourly, watching him
carefully. “Sam, he’s got something up his sleeve. I can see it in his
eyes.” Sam
couldn’t deny Al’s comment, since he completely agreed with it. “And
what exactly is it that you want, Daniel?” Daniel
was silent for a long moment but it was clear that he knew precisely what he
was doing. The silence was a tactic for him to remain in control of the
situation. When he did speak, his words startled both Al and Sam. “I
want to talk to Tyler Wilson,” Daniel stated. Seeing the way Jack
Anderson’s brow furrowed slightly, his voice sharpened. “Don’t play
dumb, Jack!” he spat angrily. “Tyler
Wilson! The asshole cop that
wasn’t supposed to be in the building the day my sister was killed.
The prick never so much as said he was sorry!
I want to him to apologize to me…to my face for what he caused,”
Daniel snarled, moving to within three feet of the door, keeping the Glock
trained on Jack Anderson. 11:32:51
A.M. Al’s
fingers again had flown over the handlink at the mention of Tyler Wilson’s
name, and Ziggy had popped up the information faster than the SWAT team
listening outside the building could respond.
He felt his guts twist as he looked up from the handlink to his
friend, remaining out of Sam’s line of sight as he gave him the bad news. Even
before he heard Dale Lavvermore’s terse voice in his ear, Sam’s insides
were tightening as Al said, “Sam, Tyler Wilson was a deputy with the
sheriff’s office the day Shank’s sister was killed. He...was the guy
that pulled Daniel to safety just before Samantha was shot.” He licked his
lips then added, “Guess maybe he felt some responsibility, because after
that, Though
the heat in the building was steadily rising, the trickle of sweat that ran
down Sam’s spine as he listened to Al was icy cold. Sam
spoke carefully, never breaking eye contact with the bitter man with a gun
aimed at his heart. “Daniel, I...” It
was what Daniel had been waiting for; he played his trump card. “Dammit
all to hell, Jack!” he shouted furiously.
“You get that rat bastard up here in the next five minutes, or I
swear to God, I’m gonna shoot one of them.” He indicated the terrified
hostages behind him and slightly to his left.
“And right this minute, Mister Anderson, I don’t particularly
give a damn who gets the first bullet.” “Daniel,
Tyler Wilson is in Daniel
glared at him. “Do you really think I’m foolish, Jack? Do you really
think I believe all that bullshit you’re laying on me? You get him up
here, Jack! And if you don’t start doing what I tell you in the next
thirty seconds, I’m going to start shooting!” 11:34:29
A.M. Al
held his breath, looking between his partner and the furious man on the
other side of the glass. “Sam… you’ve got to calm this guy down. You
have less than thirteen minutes before that bomb on his chest explodes,
and Ziggy’s now saying that Jack Anderson is one of the victims…” “Daniel,
I’m not lying to you,” Sam assured. “ Daniel
didn’t immediately respond instead continuing to glare at the negotiator,
even advancing to the glass until he was close enough to see, by the
flashlight’s beam, the sweat on Jack’s forehead, watching as a couple of
large drops of the salty fluid trickled down the sides of the negotiator’s
face and neck. For several long moments, Daniel’s furious gaze bore into
the other man’s eyes, letting Jack Anderson wonder for several more
moments before suddenly stepping back. As
the ugly memory of the last moments of his sister’s life looped through
his mind again, a line from “The Godfather” also entered his thoughts,
and Daniel knew it was time to make Jack Anderson an offer he couldn’t
refuse. Stalking
over to the circle of frightened hostages, Daniel scanned the
terror-stricken faces daring to look up at him and made his choice. Stepping
behind Teal Judge, the credit union manager, he went down on one knee behind
her and shoved the muzzle of the Glock against her right ear then shouted,
“Turn that flashlight over here, Mister Anderson!”
When the beam of light fell on him and the sobbing woman now counting
the rest of her life in seconds, Daniel stared into the light and made his
demand. “Since Deputy Wilson
isn’t here to get on his knees and apologize to me, Mr. Anderson, then
you’ll take his place.” He
stared hard at the negotiator on the other side of the glass door.
“What’s it gonna be, Jack? You...in
that rat bastard, 11:36:15
A.M.
Sam’s
eyes focused on the terrified woman sitting on the floor, handcuffed to
seven other people. She wasn’t the only one who was terrified. The room
and the hallway were eerily silent as everyone realized that Daniel Shanks
was really going to pull the trigger and brutally murder an innocent woman
just to get an apology for his sister’s death. Sam didn’t have to think
twice about his decision.
“All right,” he agreed, getting a stare from Al. “Let the
others go and you can have me in Inside,
Daniel felt a surge of righteous, angry victory as he watched Jack Anderson
get down on his knees. Still, he
didn’t move immediately away from Teal Judge, letting several seconds pass
as he and Jack stared, unblinking, at each other.
Then as suddenly as he’d put the gun to her head, Daniel removed
the weapon from against Teal’s ear and stood up.
Glaring down at her, now sobbing even more hysterically, he nudged
her hard with the toe of his boot. “Shut up!
That goes for the rest of you, too,” he snapped at the others.
“If Mr. Anderson doesn’t get a sudden case of stupid, you’ll all be
out of here in less than five minutes.”
That said, he moved over to the locked door and stared down at the
hostage negotiator now on his knees, hands on his head and watching him.
Not for a second did Daniel let his guard down as he twisted the
deadbolt lock then pulled the door inward.
It took a lot not to just point the gun and pull the trigger but he
managed it all the same. Stepping
into the now open doorway, Daniel didn’t blink as he pressed the muzzle of
the Glock between Jack Anderson’s eyebrows.
“One stupid move, Jack and it all ends right now – you, me, those
eight people over there and the credit union will be in kingdom come before
you can blink.” Al
didn’t dare say a word as he watched his best friend nod slowly and saying
in a voice calmer than he would have imagined, “I understand, Daniel.”
His heart was in his mouth as he watched as Sam, when ordered, got up
on his feet again and stepped into the credit union. “You’ve
got me now,” Sam dared to speak, unresisting as Daniel, now with a handful
of the front of his shirt, pulled him past the hostages. “Let them go,
Daniel.” Daniel
seemed to be considering his plea before he put the Glock to Sam's head and,
not moving his eyes from him, dug into his pocket. Pulling out a key, he
tossed it into the middle of the circle of hostages. "Okay,
Ms. Judge," he said firmly. "Unlock yourself from the others and
go out the door... slowly." He then addressed the others. "Only
after she is out of sight will the next person do the same. Any tricks and
we all go up. Understood?" The
way that Daniel Shanks had him positioned, Sam couldn't see the hostages.
Only the collective sudden intake of breath by them gave him a mental
picture of their reaction to Daniel's decision to release them.
He didn't even dare try to turn his head to look for Al. He held his
tongue, listening to the sound of the key unlocking one set of handcuffs.
It wasn't until he heard the woman Daniel had spoken to get to her
feet that Daniel yanked on Sam’s shirt, shifting his stance so that the
Leaper got a clear look at the terrified hostages.
When Ms. Judge looked into his eyes as she timidly but quickly moved
past him, Sam dared to speak to her. "It's
okay," he did his best to reassure her. "It's going to be
okay." "Shut
up, Mr. Anderson!" Daniel snapped, jerking on the man's shirt to gain
his attention again. "You keep *your* mouth shut or I'll change my
mind." Al
didn't have to tell Sam to just shut up and do what Shanks wanted, but that
didn't mean the words didn't run through his head as he watched the
situation with intensity. He knew that the odds were in Sam's favor the
moment the hostages were all free. But he still didn't like him trading
himself for the hostages, even if he would have done the same thing in his
position. Lifting the handlink, Al pressed a few buttons, wanting to see if
the odds were actually getting better as he thought they were. He frowned at
what he read. "Sam,
Ziggy's not making sense here. She still says that there's going to be an
explosion but she isn't giving me any numbers." Nothing
more was said as, one by one, the hostages left the credit union. 11:39:54
A.M.
Hearing
Al's comment about Ziggy's odd behavior at the moment wasn't good.
Logic told him that even if the odds were hair-raisingly slim, the
hybrid super computer would still have calculated the odds and fed them to
Al through the handlink. Ziggy
not giving any odds at all could mean only one thing, namely that as far as
her near limitless capacity for calculations could determine, he, Sam
Beckett, wasn't going to survive this leap. A
soft whooshing sound attracted his attention just then and Sam turned his
head toward it in time to see the last hostage, a middle-aged woman rushing
down the hall. The moment he saw her disappear around the corner, he turned
back to face Daniel. It didn't
help much when the muzzle of the Glock was again pressed between his
eyebrows. "Now
what, Daniel?" he asked quietly. "You
tell me, Mr. Hostage Negotiator," the reply came. "It's just us
two now. You got what you wanted but I still haven't gotten what I
wanted." "Sam..."
Al said, his voice tense. "I don't like the sound of that." "Lock
the door," Daniel ordered, his voice overlapping Al's. He pushed Sam
towards the door, shifting the Glock around his new lone hostage’s head so
that it was pressed to his temple. As
Sam reached up to do as he was told, there was a loud snap of metal, and he
and Al looked with wide eyes at the handcuff circling his wrist. He stared
at the handcuff locked on his wrist for a moment more before lifting his
eyes to look at Daniel. "What’s
this?" His answer came when Daniel Shanks jerked his free hand and
Sam's shackled hand followed it, and it was then that the Leaper saw the
other cuff of the set fastened on one of the revenge driven man's wrists. Yanking
his arm again, Daniel managed to pull the Leaper away from the door and back
to the area where the hostages had been huddled.
Only then did he answer Sam's question. "This,
Jack," Daniel said with angry triumph in his tone, "is what I've
wanted all along." 11:40:00
A.M. Sam
blinked, looked at the handcuffs binding them then back to Daniel's face.
Now it was plain for anyone to see in his face the bitter revenge
that had driven him. "Why, Daniel?"
Again, he didn't get a voiced answer, as he was ordered to sit down
on the floor. He hesitated a moment before complying.
As the hostage-taker mimicked his action, Sam got his first close up
look at the bomb strapped to Daniel's chest. Once
seated, Daniel slowly put the Glock on the floor before retrieving a small
object from his jacket pocket. Pushing the gun as far from the two of them
as possible, he fingered the small object, obviously toying with certain
thoughts. Al
looked at the object carefully, his eyes widening. "Sam, as long as he
has that wireless remote in his hand, he can set off the bomb. You've got to
get that remote from him.” "We're
just going to sit and wait here for a moment. I want to make sure that no
one else gets hurt. Unlike you, Jack, I actually think about these things
before I make promises. And I keep my promises." Seeing
that Al had moved around to stand behind Daniel, Sam risked making eye
contact with the Observer by making a slow sweeping look at the area behind
the other man. Daniel didn't object or comment but the expression on Al's
face mirrored the moment - grim. He
watched Al's fingers flying over the handlink, yelling at Ziggy to,
"Get your damned head outta the sand, Ziggy!
If you don't come up with something in damned short order, none of us
are gonna get another chance to help Sam." Sam
swallowed carefully, blew out a soft breath and met Daniel's gaze.
The accusation and hatred he saw there told him the man hadn't the
least qualm about what he was doing. Something Daniel had just said tickled
his thoughts and he went with it. It was as good as anything else to begin
with. He had to get the man talking about what was driving him. "I
don't understand what you mean, Daniel," Sam said evenly. "I
always keep my promises." Sam
got more reaction to the statement than he had anticipated. A lot more. "BULLSHIT!"
Daniel screamed at him, yanking his cuffed wrist forward, causing Sam to
follow without consent. "Don't you DARE tell me that! You lied! You
promised no cops and there was one around the corner! Because of you, I lost
everything!" He quickly stood up and started to kick him hard in the
ribs. "It's your fault she's dead! Your fault! We trusted you to get us
out of there safe and you killed her with your lies!" "Hey,
you bastard!" Al exclaimed, trying futilely to get Shanks away from
Sam, to stop the abusive onslaught. Sam
didn't go with the natural reaction to fight back against the savageness of
Daniel's kicking his ribs, instead hunching into himself in an attempt to
protect his ribs and chest. When that didn't help, he tried twisting his
body away from the vicious kicks. All
Sam succeeded in doing was exposing his back, an action that was rewarded by
the toe of one of Daniel Shanks' boots hammering against his kidneys. "Aiiee!"
Sam yelped, instantly twisting back to face Daniel. The action brought the
kicks to a stop. Sam panted and
winced at the pain throbbing in his ribs and lower back.
Yet it didn't keep him from repeating even more firmly what had
brought the attack on. "I...have
no reason to lie to you, Daniel," he gasped. "Not now. You've got
to believe me." Hearing a
squawk from the handlink, Sam's gaze flicked involuntarily toward the sound
and the sight of Al working the instrument like a virtuoso with a
Stradivarius. Hoping Al would
pick up on the question he was asking of Daniel, Sam said, "Tell me,
Daniel. What did I do to make
you think that?" "I
already told you!" Daniel yelled at him, clearly tempted to start
abusing him again. "You lied to Harry Macklin about the cops! You said
there wouldn't be any cops and there were! And because of that lie, my
sister was killed!" Al
raised his head at Daniel's words, looking at the angry man as if he had
just given him the Holy Grail. "Sam, get him to talk about his sister.
This whole thing is about her death. Maybe if you got him talking about
her..." Sam
nodded his head with slow exaggeration to acknowledge Al's suggestion. Still
in a semi defensive posture on the floor beside Daniel, Sam licked his lips
and caught his breath before taking the plunge. 11:42:59
A.M. "Daniel,
I...what happened to your sister," he began carefully watching as the
volatile, revenge-driven man shifted the remote control for the bomb to the
hand cuffed to Sam before turning an accusing glare on the Leaper. Sam
cringed a bit when Daniel jerked his wrist, again jerking the Leaper toward
him, shouting at him.
"Say her name, dammit! You
knew her...graduated high school the same year, Jack! Don't you friggin'
talk about her like you didn't know her!" Sam looked to Al but was
interrupted when Daniel lunged at him, grabbing him by the throat with his
free hand. "Say
her name!" "It's
Samantha, Sam!" Al shouted to his partner, seeing Daniel grabbing and
squeezing Sam's throat. "She went by Sam." "SAY
IT!" Daniel screamed. "Say her name!" Sam
carefully raised his free hand to slowly pull Daniel's hand away from his
throat, enough to let him get a breath before gasping out, "Sam."
Getting the reaction he was hoping for at his compliance to the demand, he
said the name again. "Sam. Her name was Sam." Al
nodded slightly, looking towards Daniel and then towards his partner, hoping
that the physicist's words had calmed the ex-Army grunt enough to allow him
to listen. Daniel
glared at the hostage negotiator a moment longer before leaning back a bit
from him. Indicating the remote
in his cuffed hand, he warned, "Insult Samantha's memory again, Jack,
and you won't have time to wish you hadn't." Sam
nodded then started again. "Samantha...what
happened to her, Daniel was..." He hesitated when Daniel's glare became
colder, and he glanced at the remote. He couldn't tell if Daniel's thumb had
increased its pressure on the button or not, but he couldn't stop now.
"Samantha's death was a tragedy, Daniel," Sam said. "A
senseless tragedy that I wish to God had never happened but it did." "And
it's all your fault!" Daniel screamed again. "You law enforcement
bastards will say anything because when it comes down to it, you don't care
if you have to sacrifice somebody..." "No,"
Sam said firmly, something stung in him by the accusation. "You're
wrong, Daniel. Every life is precious." "Then
why'd you kill my sister?!" Daniel Shanks' rage, simmering to that
point had risen up at his perception of the hostage negotiator's response. "He
didn't, you dense piece of..." Al started, his own anger boiling from
the injustice of the situation. "Harry Macklin killed your sister. He's
the one at fault! Besides, you care so damned much about your sister, what
do you think she'd say to what you're doing here?" For
some reason, Sam found himself repeating Al word for word, including the
angry intonations of his voice. When he realized what he'd said, he closed
his eyes and waited for the end to come. He was certain that Daniel was
going to kill them both now. The
acidic revenge that had been born in his soul the day his beloved sister and
only living relative had been killed was boiling fiercely within Daniel
Shanks. He was ready to tighten his thumb on the remote and send Jack
Anderson straight to hell. But then Jack's voice took on some bite and,
caught fractionally off guard by it, Daniel listened grudgingly to what the
man was saying. His anger tried
to return to fever pitch but the question kept looping through his mind. Sam,
when he realized that he was still alive, opened his eyes slowly, his gaze
fixing immediately on Daniel's face. What
he saw in the man's expression allowed a sliver of hope to dig its hooks
into his being. Moving ever so carefully, Sam slowly managed to get himself
into a sitting position, all the while keeping his hands open and palms up.
He hesitated then figuratively stepped onto the thin ice again. "Would
Samantha want you to do this, Daniel?" Sam asked, keeping his voice
level and non-accusatory. Both
Sam and Al looked at Daniel intensely, though Sam's eyes were kinder than
Al's, waiting for Daniel to answer the question. When he did speak, it
wasn't an answer but rather a statement. 11:44:12
A.M. "She
was all I had. She practically raised me since I was eight. She gave up
college to make sure I had clothes and food and a roof over my head. And
then... she was gone. Just like that." His voice wasn't accusatory,
though his words could easily have been. "There was a cop there and you
told Mr. Macklin that there wouldn't be any cops." Another
alert from the handlink attracted Al's attention and he scanned the
information being fed into the small instrument. He read it quickly, nodding
and feeling his own bit of hope digging for purchase within him.
Lifting his head, Al looked at Sam. "Ziggy
got access to the records, Sam," he began.
The look in his eyes told the Leaper not to question how Ziggy had
gained access to sealed FBI records. "She says that in the report, it
clearly states that the cop that pulled Shanks to safety that day acted on
impulse when he grabbed Daniel. You...Jack
didn't know until after it was all over that the police had stationed the
cop there to hustle the hostages out of the building faster once they turned
that corner." He paused then repeated firmly, "It wasn't Jack's
fault. You...he didn't
lie." "Daniel,"
Sam said softly, slowly standing up. When he didn't get screamed at for his
actions, he pressed the issue gently. "I didn't know the officer was
there. There was a communications problem, but he was there to make sure
that every one got out of the building safely. That officer was doing his
job when he pulled you out of the way, just like I was doing my job in
making sure that all of you were released. The only person at fault for your
sister's death is Harry Macklin. No one else." He took a breath and let
it out slowly, waiting for Daniel to look at him. "I'm sorry about
Samantha, Daniel. And you’re right, I knew her, we all grew up
together.” Inwardly, Sam
crossed his fingers as he added, “And I believe that she wouldn't have
wanted you to do this." As
Jack Anderson talked, Daniel had hugged his need for vengeance for
Samantha's death close. He had
no intention of letting the hostage negotiator smooth talk his way out of
the punishment he had been planning for years.
But as he kept his gaze fixed on Jack's face, listening as much to
the man's tone of voice as he was the words being said, Daniel began to feel
the bitterness lessen. Then Jack said he was sorry about Samantha's death
and there was nothing Daniel Shanks could do to hang onto what remained of
the revenge that had been his touchstone to Samantha's memory any longer. 11:46:42
A.M. It
took a couple of tense moments before he closed his eyes and silently
released the last tatters of his anger. Opening his eyes, he looked up at
the man he perceived as Jack Anderson. "You're
right," he said quietly. After
a breath, he repeated himself, his eyes said. "You're right. She
wouldn't want me to hurt anyone." He swallowed slightly, looking at the
remote in his hand. "I know I'm going to jail for this. But..."
Slowly, he offered Sam the remote. "It really doesn't matter who's
responsible, does it. My sister's dead... and getting revenge isn't going to
change that." Sam
let out the breath he'd been holding as Daniel spoke, a wave of relief
sweeping over him. Considering Daniel's last words, the Leaper took a
chance, ignoring Al's edgy, "Sam, what are you doing?" as he spoke
again, because they still weren't completely out of the woods yet. Holding
out his unshackled hand to Daniel, Sam said gently, "Give me the
remote, Daniel." He paused
when he saw a shadow pass over the other man's eyes. His pulse quickened
again when Daniel's gaze shifted to look at the small control mechanism in
his hand, his fingers curling around it again.
Sam's heart started up into his mouth when Daniel looked at him again
before slowly laying the remote in the Leaper's palm. 11:47:01
A.M. Al
let out an explosive sigh. "Thank God!" he declared fervently.
"Okay, handle that thing damned careful, Sam." Seeing his friend
nodding, he added, "Now tell Lavvermore to get the bomb squad up here
fast. You may have the remote,
but until they get that bomb off Shanks' chest, you're still not outta the
woods." Sam
carefully held the remote, turning to Daniel. "We'll get the bomb squad
up here to help with getting that bomb off your chest," he told him
softly. He tensed when he saw Daniel shaking his head. But Daniel's words
helped alleviate his fears. "I
made the damned thing. I can disarm it safely," Daniel assured him.
Looking at Sam, he seemed resigned but not defeated. "I don't want to
die anymore anyway." For
as much as Sam believed Daniel's profession about not wanting to die,
another glance at Al's resolute expression told him that he had to play by
the rules by which his host was bound in the performance of his job. "I
appreciate your expertise, Daniel," Sam said evenly, "and I
believe you, but I have to call them in."
A small sympathetic smile crept across his face, the relief growing
as Daniel replied quietly, "I won't give you any more trouble." Taking
a calming breath, Sam spoke aloud, "Dale...send the bomb squad
up....nobody else for now." Blowing out a soft breath Sam added calmly,
"I'm okay. I've got the situation under control."
He listened again to the FBI agent's voice in his ear with a simple,
"Okay." Shifting his gaze to the man to whom he was handcuffed, he
said, "Let's sit down. They'll be up here in a few minutes to remove
the handcuffs and the bomb." Carefully
the two men lowered themselves to the floor. When they were seated on the
floor, Daniel with his free hand flat on the floor beside him at Sam's quiet
order, both men appeared to feel the last of the tension fading. "What
happens now?" Daniel asked quietly, looking at Sam.
Sam in turn tilted his head slightly, his gaze seemingly sweeping the
area behind Daniel even as he fixed on Al's face. Al's
fingers were again working the buttons on the handlink rapidly. "Sam,
Daniel Shanks is charged and convicted of attempted robbery, hostage taking,
making threats with a deadly weapon and making bomb threats. He's sentenced
to thirty years to life in San Quentin." He paused a second then added
somberly, "He never gets out. He
gets killed in a prison brawl twelve years from now." Sam
closed his eyes at Al's words. Certainly Daniel had done wrong but Sam
didn't think he deserved to die. He made a mistake but he was correcting
that mistake right this moment by cooperating. Scanning Daniel's face, Sam
could already see remorse on the younger man's face for what he allowed his
misguided need for revenge to do. "Jack?" Hearing
his host's name spoken, Sam came back to the moment, meeting Daniel Shanks'
gaze levelly. Swallowing then
licking his lips, he told him, "You know as well as I do, Daniel, that
you're looking at serious prison time. Probably
the rest of your life." He hesitated, jarred to his own core as he
suggested what Al had confirmed just moments before.
Yet as the harsh words were sinking, Sam made a decision. He wasn't a
hundred percent sure his host would agree but one lesson leaping had taught
him was to never let any chance slip through his fingers without trying for
it. Placing
his free hand on Daniel's knee nearest him, Sam said firmly, "I'll
testify on your behalf, Daniel." Daniel
couldn't have been more startled if the hostage negotiator had slugged him.
"Why?" he asked, clearly stunned by the magnanimous offer of help.
"I really meant to kill you, Jack. Even if it meant..." "But
you didn't," Sam came back firmly and keeping his gaze fixed on the
other man. "You let the others go and you surrendered.
That's got to count for something in your favor, and I'll do
everything I can to make sure that the good things you chose to do in this
situation have at least some bearing on your sentence."
He paused then added, "And I'll call Tyler Wilson to be a
character witness for you." Just
as the words crossed his lips, Sam, Daniel and Al all looked toward the door
and the hall beyond it to see a three-man bomb squad in full gear, and
carrying a secure bomb disposal unit, approaching.
Sam and Al were diverted just then by a squeal from the handlink. "Sam,
you've done it!" Al said with a smile. "Anderson and Wilson
testify both during the trial and at Daniel's parole hearings. Daniel gets
parole in 2005. He's started a new life and now has a privately owned
touring business. He takes people up into the mountains in a Jeep to do
fly-fishing, camping, et cetera. Makes a good living out of it as well.
Never does come back to Hilldale, though." Again
the two men and the hologram turned toward the door when the man leading the
bomb squad team called out, "Agent Anderson, we're coming in." "Come
on in," Sam called out to them then turned back to Daniel Shanks.
He started to reach his unfettered hand to offer it to Daniel but
felt the remote and hesitated. Moving
slowly, he put his hand behind his back, calling out clearly to the members
of the bomb squad now inside the credit union with them, "Here's the
remote. Somebody take it." As
he felt someone's gloved hand gently remove the triggering device from his
open palm, Sam brought his hand around again, this time offering it to
Daniel Shanks. It took a moment
before Daniel clasped it firmly. As
he felt the first tingling prickles that heralded the approaching leap out,
Sam looked into the younger man's eyes.
"I want you to do something for me," he said.
To Daniel's questioning look, Sam said, "Remind me about my
promise to help you." He smiled softly at the man. "It's been
a...hectic day for both of us and I don't want to forget my promise to help
you." The
last thing Sam saw before he leaped was the grateful expression on Daniel
Shanks' face as he said, "I promise, Jack. And I always keep my
promise." Those
were the last words Sam Beckett heard as he disappeared in a flash of blue
light. EPILOGUE Al
sighed with relief as the images disappeared, leaving him with only the
white walls of the Imaging Chamber. When did this leap start anyway? A look
at his watch reminded him that, although it felt as if he'd been up an
additional twenty-four hours since the end of the previous leap, it had
really been less than one. He wiped his face roughly and then started for
the door, sending up a silent prayer. 'Oh, Lord. I'll do whatever you want
later. Just don't let Sam leap in for at least ten hours.' Walking
down the ramp, he didn't even notice the feminine hands on his arms until
the voice came. "Hi,
babydoll," he murmured with a yawn. The
"ten minutes" her father had blithely assured Julianna was all it
would take to check on Sam had stretched into forty tense minutes, during
which he never stirred out of the Imaging Chamber. Upon hearing the Imaging
Chamber automatically powering down, Julianna had ran around the main
control panel and up the ramp and so was waiting beside the chamber door
when it opened. She didn't say
anything immediately when her father stepped out and started down the ramp.
However, seeing him wobble a step, Julianna stepped up behind him and
grasped him by his shoulders from behind. She let out a sigh of relief when
he stopped in his steps there on the ramp, murmuring, "Hi, babydoll." Moving
around to face him, Julianna searched his face.
She didn't have all the details of the leap yet, but the drained
appearance of Al Calavicci's face and the circles under his eyes that
appeared to have darkened a bit more was all she cared about at the moment. "Ziggy,"
she called out firmly as she walked Al down the ramp then turned toward the
door into the Control Room. "I'm going to escort the Admiral to his
quarters. I'll be back in ten
minutes." "Very
well," Ziggy replied. "All
systems have been reset to standby mode."
Shifting her focus to her favorite human after her 'father', the
computer added, "Sleep well, Admiral Calavicci." Al
didn't answer Ziggy nor did he fight his daughter in walking him to the
elevator and up to his quarters. At the door, however, he turned to her and
touched her face. "Tuyen's
one lucky guy, you know," he told her with a smile. He liked the slight
blush on her cheeks that she couldn't hide if she wanted to. "Yeah,
he isn't here making you go to bed," Julianna said with a hint of a
tease. The look of concern, however, hadn't left. "Now, go on to bed.
I'm sure Mama Beth's worried sick about you." Al
didn't argue with his daughter, merely brushed a kiss on her cheek then
entered his quarters, closing the door quietly.
He hadn't moved more than three steps when he heard his beloved
wife's voice calling to him as she appeared from the direction of their
bedroom and tying the sash of her robe. "Are
you all right?" she demanded gently, coming up to him and giving him a
quick hug. Leaning back from him again, she searched his face. Beth's
concerned questions instantly brought back to his thoughts the situation
that Sam had managed to defuse. Inside,
he shuddered at the thought of how close they had come to losing Sam in a
matter of minutes. But
we didn't,
he reminded himself firmly and resolutely ignored all attempts by that bleak
thought to get his focus again. Blowing
out a slow weary breath, Al cupped his wife's face with his hands and looked
into her eyes a moment before kissing her softly. "Al,
you didn't answer me. Are you all right?" "I’m
fine. Just helped Sam with a leap," he told her as he slipped an arm
around her shoulders and turned her back to the hall and went to their
bedroom. It took only minutes
for Al to shed his clothes and pull on pajamas, brush his teeth then crawl
into bed beside Beth. "Night,
honey," Beth whispered as she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. She
was met with a soft snore. Smiling
softly, she kissed her husband's cheek then turned out the bedside lamp then
snuggled against his back and followed him into slumber. |