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

        As the unseen guiding hand of Time had placed him back in reality, he could feel the gentle warmth of the sun that rested on his shoulders, lightly dampened grass on his knees, and smooth stone against his fingertips. When the radiant halo of cobalt blue light had faded away he could clearly see the small grave marker that he knelt before. He didn’t notice the gentleman that stood behind him.

PVT. ZACHARY DAVID PORTER

U.S. ARMY

FEBRUARY 12, 1986 – AUGUST 27, 2004

        “He was just a kid,” Sam commented as he wrinkled his forehead. He gently moved his fingers along the lettering etched in the stone, lost in thought. From somewhere back in the recesses of his mind, he knew pretty much how this Private Porter had died, yet his conscious mind refused to make the connection. Help came from the gentleman who stood behind Sam, gently placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Startled, the Leaper jerked his head over his shoulder.

        “Still can’t believe it’ll be a year on Saturday, son. Still seems like yesterday that he was telling me he planned on joining the Army.”

        It took less than a moment for Sam to recover from his shock.  Brushing away bits of grass that clung to his knees, Sam stood up, holding his gaze on the grave marker. It didn’t take a holographic Observer to tell him the reason that he had been sent to this family. Just standing there, feeling the pain behind the man’s words, Sam already knew what his task was. The next step was the ‘how’ part. Sam considered part of the situation a blessing; it wasn’t all that often that he was presented with his task upon Leaping in. Then there was the other part. Although he knew, in his heart, why he had been sent to the Porter family, he hadn’t the slightest clue as to how to go about righting the wrong. The logical choice was to wait until Al arrived to provide him with the details.

        The gentleman quickly wiped at his watery eyes as he looked over at the man whom he saw as his oldest son. “I,” he began to say but the words caught in his throat. After swallowing he said, “I…can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut and, when he opened them a couple moments later, they were slightly reddened and watery. “How ca—can I be there for you and your mother when I can’t even find the strength to carry myself?”

        Sam started to speak but quickly held his tongue. A part of him desperately wanted to comfort this man, to tell him that everything will be alright. However, the other part of him felt that saying nothing at this point was the best choice. While he felt he knew why he was there, he had yet to know the details. So instead, Sam merely placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled.

        “This was a mistake,” the elder Porter said as he turned his back to his son’s grave, “I shouldn’t have let you talk me in coming out here. Maybe your mother was right.”

        Sam called out after him. “Dad, wait!” And instead of going after the man, the Leaper simply stood there, watching as the man strode across the cemetery, heading towards a black and red painted 1962 Chevrolet truck that was parked across the lot.

        Sam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Oh boy.”

PART ONE

August 25, 2005

        The sun had already risen in the early morning sky, radiating its gentle warmth upon the scientist, almost as if it were greeting him to the start of another day. The chirping of birds filled the cemetery, their graceful song floating down upon the cemetery with the gentleness and ease of a feather. The cemetery itself wasn’t all that big. The land was bordered by  a six foot tall brick wall that connected to a tall and wide wrought iron double gate. Past where the scientist stood, it appeared as if the cemetery was being extended; the earth was upturned and sectioned off with thin yellow tape that extended about the length of approximately forty yards or so.

        Sam carefully made his way back towards the truck, making sure that he didn’t step on any grave markers along the way. Some of the markers, he noticed, had been there for quite some time, while others had been recently laid. When he approached the truck, the elder Porter didn’t say a word, nor did he even look over as Sam sat in the passenger seat. He only shifted in his seat as Sam shut the truck door and buckled himself in. Sam gazed out onto the cemetery as the truck was started, the engine rumbling to life.

        As they drove towards the double gates, Sam would glance over at the man, whose name he had yet to learn, trying to think of something to say. Once again, the words of choice had eluded him.

        “I shouldn’t have listened to you,” the man said, still not bothering to look over at Sam. “You know how hard this is for your mother and me. Why don’t you listen?”

        “Well,” Sam said, “I, uh, just thought that it would be good to…ah, come out here and pay our respects.” Sam frowned as soon as the words had left his lips. Sighing in frustration, he started over, but being very careful as to how he formed his words. “You know, Dad, I think that if you didn’t really want to come out here, then you wouldn’t have let me talk you into it.”

        The man’s eyes widened a bit. He bit his lip and then said after a moment, “Grant,” he said with a sigh, “it’s not that I don’t want to be out here, but you have to understand how hard it is for me to see him…there.” He shook his head and then said, “I want to be able to remember Zack as he was, not where he’s at now.”

        “I know,” Sam replied. “I can understand how difficult is for you and mom to be coming out here and—” Sam stopped speaking when he noticed the strange look he’d earned from the man.

        “What are you talking about?” he asked a perplexed Sam.

        “Oh, uh, well,” Sam flustered, “I was just thinking that—”

        “Just don’t, okay?” The man’s frustration was quickly escalating so, for the time being, Sam didn’t further press the issue. The man gripped the steering wheel tightly as he turned left, and just up ahead was the exit. To the left of the gate was a small building which housed the office. A groundskeeper, who stood outside the building smoking a cigarette, smiled and waved as the Chevy passed through the gate.

        “Do me a favor, Grant,” the man had said when they turned onto the main road, “and don’t mention any of this to your mother.” Behind them, in weathered gray lettering that jutted out from the right side of the wall, were the words ‘ Ivy Lawn Cemetery ’.

        Sam frowned and asked, “Why?”

        “She doesn’t need to know, alright? Let’s just keep this between the two of us.” He shifted the truck into fourth gear. “It’s for the best, son.”

        “Yeah,” Sam muttered to himself as he stared out the window. The beautiful landscape quickly rushed past him as the vehicle picked up in speed.

        The remainder of the trip had passed in silence. Come to find out, the Porters didn’t live that far from Ivy Lawn Cemetery . In fact it had only been a two mile trip. The Porters lived in a small, quiet neighborhood. It was one of those neighborhoods where nearly all the houses on the block appeared identical, save for a few minor details. The house that the Porters had lived in was a single story, painted white and blue with a detached garage.

        “We’re back,” the man called out as he and Sam stepped through the living room door. To their immediate right was the entrance to the kitchen. In there, a beautiful brunette stood in front of the sink, washing some dishes. She looked over at the two and smiled, although to any other observer, it would appear as if she were rather annoyed.

        “Where did you two run off to?” she asked. “I tried calling your cell but it was off. Honestly, David,” she said a bit hotly, “what the hell is the point of having a cell phone if it’s always turned off?”

        David held up a hand and said with as much patience as he could gather, “Diane, not now. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude.”

        Diane glared at her husband. “Oh really? Then mind telling me just exactly where you and Grant ran off to this morning?”

        “I said not now.” David slipped off his jacket and placed it on the coat rack near the door. He then went into the living room.

        Sam watched the interplay with much concern. The situation was unfolding right before his eyes. Getting them to deal with the death of Zack Porter was only scratching the surface. This, what he was seeing, was a deep, emotional wound that definitely needed to be healed.

        “Damn it, David,” she said as she followed after him, “don’t you walk away from me! We’re not done talking!”

        “What the hell is your problem?” David shouted from somewhere in the living room.

        “You know damn well what’s wrong. I know you’re hiding something from me and I want you to tell me what it is.”

        Sam stood in the doorway, listening to the argument. For a moment, he thought that he should step in but after carefully considering the notion, the best it was for him to stay out of it. He couldn’t carefully observe the situation if he kept interfering. And until Al arrived, it was all that he could do.

        “Are you cheating on me?”

        David couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Are you kidding me? You really think that I’m having an affair?”

        Diane only raised her eyebrows in response.

        David let out a laugh that held no humor behind it. “Diane, if I was having an affair then would I have brought Grant with me?” He let out his breath sharply and then said, “If you really have to know where we went this morning then I’ll tell you.” He looked into her brown eyes for a moment and then, a bit cautiously, he told her.

        Much of her anger had seemed to subside upon hearing the news, but it was replaced with something much stronger.

        “I didn’t want to tell you,” David said gently as he reached out and held her shoulders. “I know how you feel about that, but Grant thought that it would be good for me to get out there and…see.” He smiled as he reached out and tipped up her head, staring into her watery eyes. “Maybe he’s right, sweetheart. Maybe you should go out there, at least that way you could get some closure on it.”

        Diane valiantly fought back the tears. “This is something that can never have closure, David. You know that I can never go out there.”

        “I know,” he said softly. “Trust me; I know how hard it is to see Zack there. We’re in this together, but I can’t do this alone, Diane. I need you.”

        Diane only blinked in response. She sniffed and shook her head, looking away from her husband.

        “If you don’t want to go out there, that’s okay. We should at least talk about it. You know, Diane, my heart aches every day, knowing that Zack won’t come running through the door, to tell us about his day, or that he has a new girlfriend.”

        The latter comment made Diane laugh a little. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “That was one thing about Zack; he always seemed to have a new girlfriend every week.”

        “And why wouldn’t he? He was a very handsome boy.”

        Hearing the word ‘was’ brought about more tears, but this time they were streaming down her cheeks, uncontrollably.

        “Hey,” David said as he gently pulled Diane into an embrace. As she cried on his shoulder, he smoothed back her hair and swallowed back his own desire to cry, to shout at the top of his lungs. A couple tears of his own managed to roll down his cheeks as he held onto his wife. “One way or another, we’ll get through this. Swear to God we will.”

        It had been another six hours before Al arrived.  Sam had spent the time close to Grant’s parents, mainly David Porter for that matter. Getting Diane to open up about her loss was something that Sam had decided against. David, on the other hand, was much easier to speak with. Well, maybe ‘easier’ was too strong of a word. Although Sam was able to get the man to speak about it, there was always a limit, too, and Sam had been very careful as to not breach that limit. David had spent the rest of the morning and a good part of the afternoon out in the garage, listening to country music on the radio while working on some project at his workbench. Sam stood in the open doorway when Al’s image blinked into view next to him.

        “Sorry I’m late,” Al said as the handlink in his hand beeped a couple times. He reached into the breast pocket of his silver button up shirt and produced a Chivello. After he lit it, he puffed on it for a moment or two.

        Sam took one last look at the preoccupied father before turning his back and leading the hologram around to the other side of the garage. After checking to make sure that nobody was within earshot, he asked Al harshly, “What took so long, Al? I Leaped in over six hours ago.”

        Al nodded as he removed the cigar from his lips. “I know, Sam, and I’m sorry. I took the entire family out to dinner and I just got back, like an hour or so ago. Before I went into the Imaging Chamber, I stopped by the Waiting Room and spoke with Grant briefly.”

        “What has he said?” Sam asked.

        Al shrugged and replied, “Well, from what he can remember, he says that his parents have been having a real tough time dealing with the death of his kid brother. We mainly talked about his brother, Zack.”

        Glancing at the handlink, Sam asked, “What does Ziggy have for us?”

        Tapping a few buttons on the multi functional link, Al read the data that slowly scrolled across its screen. “You probably already know that it’s August 25, 2005, and that you’re in the small town of Lansing , Washington. You’re Grant Porter, David and Diane’s oldest son. He works as a delivery driver for…Cranston Auto Parts,” Al said as he slapped the side of the link when the information had temporarily stopped scrolling.

        “Yeah, I know, Al. I also know why I’m here.” Sam tossed a glance over at Al, who raised his eyebrows in response, and explained, “They haven’t gotten over the death of Zack. I think I’m here to help them through it.” Turning to Al he then asked, “What does Ziggy have on Diane and David Porter?”

        Inputting the inquiry on the link, Al related the information to Sam. “Not much. They’re your typical, middle class family. David had worked the past thirty years as a mechanic for a shop called Western Automotive and retired just one month before Zack was killed. The mother, Diane, had quit her job at the hospital just after her son’s death.” Al read the rest of the information on the handlink and then shook his head in dismay, slipping the link in his trousers pocket.

        Sam frowned. “What’s wrong, Al?”

        Gesturing towards the house, Al said with a sigh, “It looks like you’re going to have more on your hands than some emotional wounds to heal.”

        “What do you mean?” Sam studied the hologram’s facial expression and then it dawned on him what Al was getting at. “Who is it?”

        “It’s Diane, Sam.” Al met his friend’s gaze.

        “When does it happen?” Sam moved past Al, heading towards the house. He stood before the porch steps, staring up at the closed door. To the left of the door was the kitchen window, and in the window Sam could see Diane moving about. She stopped when she caught sight of Sam and smiled and waved.

        Al looked up and saw her as well. Frowning, he said, “Tomorrow night, in her bedroom. She overdoses on Naproxen and vodka. Ziggy gives you an eighty percent chance that you’re here to prevent it.”

PART TWO

       After Sam was able to recover from the shock, a thought had occurred to him. It was something that Al had mentioned regarding Diane’s death. Reaching in his jeans pocket, Sam pulled out Grant’s sleek, black cell phone. Flipping it open, he put the phone to his ear. “Al?” Sam asked, pretending to be talking into the phone.

        “What?”

        “Does she have some kind of medical problem?”

        Al asked Ziggy via the handlink. “About a couple years ago, she suffered some pretty nasty back pains and got treatment for it.”

        Sam nodded. “That makes sense at least.” When Al furrowed his brow, Sam explained. “Al, Naproxen is a muscle relaxant. If she was suffering from back pains then it’d make sense for the doctor to prescribe Naproxen.”

        “Ransack that house if you have to, Sam, but make sure you get to it before she does. According to the coroner’s report, she died around eighty thirty at night.”

        “Who found her?”

        Al said, “Grant found her. David was at a bar at the time. Grant came home and found her sprawled out on the bed. When the medics got there, they couldn’t revive her. They said that she’d been dead for at least a couple hours.” Al blinked away a couple tears that had threatened to roll down his cheeks. This was hitting him pretty hard. “She, ah, left a note on the nightstand. In it, she apologized to Grant for not being the mother that he needed, and to David for not being the wife that he deserved. Sh-she couldn’t take it anymore, Sam.”

        Sam narrowed his eyes at Al, noticing that the older man was on the verge of tears, and asked softly, “Are you alright?”

        Al lowered the link and quickly nodded. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. This just reminds me of somebody that I know,” Al waved a hand as he corrected himself. “That I knew. It was very similar to this, actually. In this case it was a man whom I served with in the Navy. We were very close; we served together for about ten years, on and off. His name was Alex Winchell. Hell, his son was a good friend of Christa’s. Anyway, his son had gone over to Iraq and was killed, around the same time as Zack Porter. He couldn’t take the stress and pain. So, one night, he went to some bar and he got drunk. Then, sometime around midnight, he decides to get behind the wheel. Now,” Al rubbed at his forehead, “I was stuck at the Project when it happened; a letter was sitting in my mailbox when I got home the next day.” As Al recounted the story to Sam, a lump had formed in his throat. After a couple times, he was able to swallow it down. “He said that he felt that God was punishing him. He also told me that no parent should ever out live their children. Right after I read that letter, I got on the phone and tried to call him. Later that night, Captain West, a mutual friend of ours, shows up at my door and tells me that Alex was killed in a car crash.” Al paused as he took a deep, calming breath. “That was three years ago, our time. Hey,” Al mused as he quickly brought up the handlink, pushing buttons. “Alex was killed in November of 2005. There’s still time.” Looking back up at Sam, his dark eyes suddenly lit up, he repeated as hope carried the words, “There’s still time.”

        “Al,” Sam said, trying his best not to step on any toes, “I can clearly see how close you were to your friend but I’m here for Diane and her family. I don’t think I’m here for your friend. Besides, according to what you just told me, that doesn’t happen for another three months.”

        Al didn’t bother to look at Sam as he slipped the handlink in his trousers pocket, the hope quickly diminished, replaced by heart wrenching pain. “It isn’t fair, Sam. Damn it! It just isn’t fair.” Blinking away tears, he moved past Sam, going over to the garage where David was. “Look, I know that you can’t help my friend now, but you sure as hell can help these people.”

        David looked up when Sam stepped into the garage. “I promise,” Sam said into the cell phone as he flipped it shut and placed it back in his pocket.

        “I’ll be back soon,” Al said as he inputted the command on the handlink that would open the Imaging Chamber door. When he stood in the illuminated sheet of light, he said to Sam, “We’re losing too many kids to this damn war. Maybe on one of your Leaps, we can lower the body count…even if it’s only by one.” When Al pressed a button on the handlink, the Imaging Chamber door closed.

        “Who was that you were talking to?” David asked as he reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt, pulling out a pack of Camels.

        “Oh that,” Sam replied with a shrug as David lit his cigarette and took a drag, “um, that was just a friend of mine.” David seemed satisfied with Sam’s answer and returned to his workbench. Upon closer inspection, Sam could see that David was building a birdhouse. “That looks pretty neat there, Dad. It’s very detailed.”

        David chuckled as he puffed on his cigarette. “It’s just one way to kill time, Grant. And, hell, if people want to buy these things off me, then why not?”

        Sam’s eyebrows rose. “People actually buy these?”

        David quipped, “Why not, Grant? Do they look that bad to you?”

        Sam laughed and held up a hand. “No, no. It’s not that, I’m just…impressed with these. It looks like something I’d see in a store.”

        “It helps me pass the time. It helps me cope. You know, I sit out here all day in this garage,” David waved a hand at the carpeted, furnished garage that could have doubled as a small studio apartment, “building these birdhouses and watching a football game on the TV. Now that I’m not working anymore, I got nothing better to do with my time.” David stood up from the stool he was sitting on and moved past Sam, over to a small brown cooler with a Dr. Pepper logo emblazoned on its front, and opened it. He reached in and pulled out two beers. He let the lid slam shut as he tossed one to Sam. “Drink up, son. There’s plenty for the both of us. Just don’t go driving anywhere today, got it?”

        Holding the can of beer, Sam nodded. “Of course.”

        David held his gaze on Sam for a beat and then extended his hand. “Give me your car keys.”

        “Dad, I can assure you that I won’t be driving anywhere. Besides, one is enough for me.”

        David’s smirk turned into a smile as he leaned against the workbench, opening his can of Bud Light. After taking a long sip and a drag on his cigarette, he pointed at Sam with his cigarette and said, “You’re a good boy, Grant. You’ve always have been the responsible one. You’re brother, on the other hand, always seemed to be getting his ass into some sort of trouble.” With a shake of the head, David took another long drink. “I never could figure him out.”

        Sam could tell that the man wanted to say more, but for whatever reason, he remained silent. Sam went across the garage and pulled up another stool. As he brought it over to where David was, he walked past a small Budweiser mirror that was tacked on the wall just above the cooler. He looked over at it, and, even in that brief moment spent, he could see on Grant’s face the same pain and heart ache that his parents were suffering from. Sam smirked when he saw a bumper sticker above the mirror that read ‘WARNING ME ABOUT MY SMOKING MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH’. Sam set the stool down in front of David and took his seat. “Dad, you know, it’s okay to talk about it. I’m here to help you. Help you, and help mom.”

        “Grant,” David said as he took a drag on his cigarette. When he exhaled, Sam could hear the sigh that was behind it. “Now, I don’t think that it’s a wise idea to be running around here and talkin’ about your brother, especially when you’re mother is within earshot. You know how she doesn’t like to--”

        “Like to what?” Sam interrupted. “Dad, please listen to me on this. She needs to at least address the issue. This is very bad for her mental wellbeing. If she keeps suppressing it, then something…terrible can happen.”

        David held his gaze on Sam. He actually seemed to be mulling it over as he reached over to put out his cigarette in the ashtray that was next to one of the birdhouses he was building. “Don’t you think that I’ve tried, Grant? I can’t get through to her; damn, I don’t think that anybody can get through to her. Trust me on this one,” David said as he reached out and patted Sam on the knee.

        “I think that if you and I got to speak to her together,” Sam went on, “then maybe she’ll listen. Dad, she needs help.”

        David’s eyes widened a bit as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Grant, you’re not listening to me. There are just some things that are better left unsaid. You know your mother can’t handle it. Damn, I can barely wrap my mind around it, and it’s almost been a year. Besides, I thought we already talked about this earlier.”

        “We did,” Sam said, “but we really didn’t discuss it. Look, I know how painful this is for the both of you. Zack was my brother, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about him, where I don’t miss the hell out of him. He was a good kid who was taken away from us long before his time.”

        David forcibly set his can of beer down on the workbench, hard enough so that some of the beer sloshed out of the can and dribbled onto the bench. “He was eighteen!” Closing his eyes, he lowered his head and said softly with much sadness, “He was eighteen, Grant. He just graduated high school, for Christ’s sake.” He opened his eyes and looked at Sam, blinking a couple times. “What the hell was he thinking, huh? Joining the military during wartime was the last thing that kid needed.” Holding back his tears, he clenched his hand into a tight fist. “He was supposed to go to college. He was supposed to continue school, not go running off to the other side of the world and fight in some war that he had no business being in. I remember one day, when I came home from work, and Zack was sitting there on the couch watching the news.”

        “What are you watching, son?” David asked as he stood in the doorway, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

        Zack, stretched out on the couch with remote in hand, looked up at his father and said, “Just the news. I’m watching this segment about the war in Iraq .”

        David could easily see that his son was completely absorbed into the program. He frowned as he went over to the couch; Zack sat up so that his father could take a seat. He watched the program for about a minute and then looked back over at his son. “You, ah, sure this is something that you want to do? I mean, you just graduated high school; don’t you want to get out there and do something?”

        “Dad,” Zack said with a sigh as he turned and faced his father, “I already signed the papers and took the oath. I can’t back out now.”

        “I know, I know,” David said as he held up a hand. “I’m just worried about you. Every day, I read something in the paper about either some suicide bomber or an ambush; there’s a lot of kids  over there, dying. I just don’t want your name to be added to the list.”

        Zack shrugged it off. “It’s not going to be like that, Dad. It’s just…I see these reports on TV and articles in the newspaper, you know? I read all this stuff that’s going on and I want to do my part. I want to do this, Dad.”

        David smiled as his eyes began to water. “And you’re absolutely sure that the Army is something you want to do?”

        Zack nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides,” he added as he playfully punched David on the shoulder, “I’ll be home before you know it, the time will fly by.”

        David leaned over and hugged Zack. As he patted him on the back he told him, “What ever you choose to do with your life, Zack, you know I’ll stand behind you one hundred percent.” As he pulled away from the hug, he looked Zack in the eye. “The hard part is yet to come.” When Zack narrowed his eyes as David said with a smirk, “Telling your mother.”

        Zack laughed and shook his head. “It’s going to be a tough sell, that’s for sure.”

        Sam himself was on the verge of tears as he’d listen to David talk about Zack. He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he got up and went over to David, bringing him into a one armed hug. David squeezed his eyes shut as he latched on to Sam.

        “He was just a kid,” David said through gritted teeth. “He was just a kid. He had no business being over there.” When David pulled back from the hug, he took a moment to collect himself. He then went over to the bench and picked up his beer can. He lifted the can to Sam and, with a forced smile, began to drink.

        Sam painfully watched as David Porter finished his beer. David then got up and went over to the cooler to get himself another one.

Project Quantum Leap

Waiting Room

        “It doesn’t do any good, Admiral. I tried talking to her but it doesn’t help any.”

        “What about your father, Grant? Have you tried talking to him?”

        Grant Porter, their latest Visitor, paced back in forth behind the examination table that the Admiral was sitting on. “Well, yeah, my dad and I talk about Zack from time to time, but even he has a hard time with it.”

        Al said, “I can imagine how tough this must be for you and your family. You know, Grant, I know what it feels like to lose somebody close because of the war.”

        Grant momentarily stopped his pacing to look over at Al. He stood there, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Then, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, he turned his back to Al and spoke. “I never told my folks this but back when Zack was talking about joining the Army, he tried to get me to go down to the recruiter’s office with him.” Grant laughed a little when he said, “Could you believe that he wanted me to go with him, to enlist together on some buddy program the Army has?” Turning to face Al, he said, “A part of me wanted to talk him out of it that day, Admiral. I never said a word, though. I was the one who drove him down there.” Grant’s voice began to crack as he spoke, his brown eyes quickly watering. “I—sat there next to him in that office, keeping my mouth shut as the recruiter painted this picture of happy bullshit for my little brother. H-he bought into it, he believed every word that guy said. And I sat there, not doing a damn thing.”

        Al went over to the young man. “Grant, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t think that there was anything that you or your parents could’ve done to stop him. He was of legal age, for one thing, and even if you did say something, it was something that Zack felt very strongly about. He would’ve found a way, whether or not he had your help.”

        Grant looked Al in the eye. “Sounds like Zack. It’s just that ever since we got word of his death, I regretted that day, you know? I just wish I could do things differently.”

        “Believe me, kid, I know what you’re going through.”

        Grant tilted his head back and asked Al, “So how do you handle it, Admiral?”

        Al thought about that for a moment. Then, as he placed a hand on Grant’s shoulder, he told him, “The best way I can. One day at a time.”

*~*~*~*

        To Sam’s great surprise, David Porter did not drown his sorrows in alcohol. In fact, it was after his third beer that he’d stopped. So deep seeded was the pain of their loss of their youngest son, that Sam was beginning to question his ability to help reach them. On the one hand, he’d finally been able to breach the emotional barrier that David had been setting up. However, on the other hand, he had yet to speak with Diane, and since his objective was to prevent her from taking her own life, Sam didn’t want to spare another moment. While David continued to work on his project in the garage, Sam went inside the house.

        “Grant,” Diane said when she looked over and saw Sam walking through the living room door. She looked as if she wanted to smile but simply didn’t have the strength to do so. “What’s your father up to this time?”

        Shrugging nonchalantly, Sam replied, “Oh, well, you know…the usual, I suppose. Right now he’s working on a birdhouse.”

        “Last week, it was a model airplane made out of beer cans. Now it’s a birdhouse.” Diane continued about straightening out the living room. She went across the room and over to the mantel that was just above the small white brick fireplace. On the mantel were several pictures of the family. One of them was of a younger David and Diane, taken on their wedding day. Another one was of Grant standing beside a black 1972 Mustang, but the one that particularly caught her attention was one of Zack, clad in cap and gown with a diploma in his hand. For several long moments, her index and middle fingers rested lightly atop the silver frame.

        Sam stood behind her, reaching out and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “You know, Mom, it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it.”

        Valiantly trying to blink away the tears, she shook her head. “I-I can’t, Grant. Please—don’t.”

        Sam wasn’t about to give up that easily. While he was being very careful as to not push Diane over the edge, he knew that in order to complete his mission, and to truly help these people, he had to push just a little. “This isn’t healthy,” Sam explained to the grief stricken woman. “If you don’t at least discuss with either me or Dad then the pain is going to end up destroying you. Listen,” he said as he turned Diane around so that she was facing him, “I need you, okay? Dad needs you, more than ever now. We can’t do this alone; the three of us need to be strong, stronger than we ever thought possible.”

        Diane started to pull back but Sam gently held on, refusing her to run away again. “Look at me,” he said calm but firmly, “Mom, don’t. Just…just look at me, okay? I need you to listen here.” When Diane finally looked up at Sam with reddened, puffy eyes, he said much gentler, “This a very trying time for us, and I understand wholeheartedly your reluctance to discuss this, but it won’t do any good for your mental wellbeing if you keep it all bottled up inside. The three of us need to sit down and really discuss this.”

        Pulling back just enough so that she could wipe at her eyes, Diane nodded. “I—miss him so much, sweetheart. I just want him back here. I want to be able to hold him in my arms, to tell him how much I love him. I’d give anything to have that again, Grant, anything.”

        “We all would,” Sam told her as she collapsed into his arms. “And as painful as it may be, you need to open up to us.”

        “Talking about it only makes the wound deeper,” Diane said as she moved past Sam and over to the couch, where she took a seat. Sam went over and sat next to her.

        Sam thought about that for a moment. Then, something that his own mother had told him years ago came drifting through his Swiss Cheesed mind. “You know, Mom, somebody once told me that God doesn’t ever give us any more than we can handle. It’s a test of faith. This is the time where the three of us come together and help each other out.”

        “Faith.” That single word spoken seemed to have carried with it a slight trace of contempt. She looked at Sam for a moment, and then looked away, at the double sliding glass door that overlooked their small backyard. “That is something that I lost nearly a year ago.”

        “At the risk of sounding like a minister, you’d be amazed on how far a simple act of faith could carry you. Trust me,” Sam said with a slight chuckle as he leaned back into the couch, “my faith has gotten me through many dark periods in my life. I can’t even begin to count the number of…times…” Sam trailed off as he noticed the strange look Diane was giving him. “What is it?”

        Diane leaned her head back as she looked at Sam. “’Many dark periods’; Grant, you’re only twenty-five years old, and you’d only been living on your own for four years before you came back here.” Diane actually seemed to be amused by Sam’s anecdote. “Honestly, sweetie, what’s gotten into you?”

        Nervously, Sam rubbed at the nape of his neck as he blushed and said, “Oh, ah, well…you know, Mom. The life of a bachelor…” It was then that he noticed a smile on her face. Granted, it was small but it was there. Sam seized the opportunity when he joked, “See? There it is. I knew it was hiding there somewhere.”

        With a chuckle, Diane asked, “What are you talking about?”

        “That smile; I knew you had it in you. You know, Mom, you should show it more often. Every once in a while, it never hurts to smile, even a little bit. In fact,” he said enthusiastically, “it can even help you feel better.”

        At that point she was laughing. When the laughter tapered off, she looked him in the eye and asked, “How did you get to be so wise, Grant?” As she looked into his eyes she seemed to notice something else as well. “You know, for a moment there, you seemed a bit…older.”

        “I’m just looking out for my loved ones.” Sam smiled at her. At nearly the same time, they both stood up. “I just want to make sure that you’re alright, after all that’s why I moved back here. I wanted to be able to help you and Dad out in any way possible.”

        Diane took a couple steps towards the kitchen, and then stopped abruptly in her tracks. Without looking at Sam she said, “Every morning, when I wake up, over half the time I can’t find the energy to even get out of bed.  I feel…conflicted on the inside, you know?” When she did turn around, she wore a deeply etched frown. “And on the days I do manage to pull myself out of bed, I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t even find the strength inside to carry on, Grant. I can’t even make sense of things half the time and the one thing that’s always present is that I will never see my baby boy again.”

        Sam went over and reached out to the distraught woman. “The best that all three of us can do is to take things slowly, one day at a time.”

        Diane wiped at her eyes and nodded slowly. “How can something as simple as that be so damn tough?”

        Sam didn’t have an answer for her, so instead he said nothing as Diane shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen.

PART THREE

        The rest of the evening had passed with some unrest, as Diane actually tried to make the best of things. David had come back inside from the garage when the sun had gone down. Not much was said, though, when dinner had been served. After their meals, Diane had retired to her bedroom for the rest of the evening while David watched some program on ESPN. Sam hadn’t seen Al for the rest of the day. He didn’t worry too much, though. He knew that Al would be in touch with him but he did hope that it would be soon. He prayed that he had made some progress with Diane. At around ten thirty, both he and David decided to call it a night. Sam awoke early the next morning to find Al standing at the foot of the narrow bed. The look on his face suggested that he didn’t get much sleep. His lime green suit was rumpled, his hair slightly tousled. Al rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn as he pressed a couple buttons on the handlink.

        “You look like the living dead,” Sam joked as he pulled himself out of bed. He went over to the chest of drawers and started rifling through its contents. “Is everything alright back at the Project?” he asked as he slipped on a green collar shirt.

        Al stifled another yawn. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine here. I guess I just didn’t get much sleep, nothing new there.” When he saw the concerned look on the scientist’s face, Al held up a hand to ward off the look. “Don’t worry, Sam. I just got a lot on my mind, I suppose. Anyways,” he quickly added as he changed the subject, “I checked with Ziggy before I got here to see if anything had changed.” Al pulled up the data on the link as Sam finished slipping on a pair of blue jeans.

        “Please tell me that you’ve got good news,” Sam said.

        “According to Ziggy, nothing’s changed.”

        Sam sighed in frustration as he put on his sneakers and tied them. “You should’ve heard her yesterday, Al. The woman’s a complete emotional wreck, and I finally got her to open up a little bit.” As he stood on his feet he added, “I need more time.”

        “You got about thirteen hours,” Al offered as he read the data on the handlink. “I know it’s not great but it’s all you got to work with.” Al thought for a moment and then asked Sam, “Is everyone still asleep?”

        Sam went over to the door and opened it. After quickly peeking in to the master bedroom, he only saw an empty, unmade bed. With a furrowed brow, Sam quietly closed the door and looked at Al. “Both David and Diane are gone.”

        “Where’d they go?”

        Sam shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. They must have left while I was still sleeping.”

        Al gestured with the handlink towards the living room, causing the hand held device to squeal a couple times.  “Then get to it, Sam. This is the perfect opportunity to do some detective work.”

        Sam was already one step ahead of Al. Even before Al was finished talking, Sam was already in David and Diane’s bedroom, quickly but carefully searched the room and the restroom and turned up empty. He then headed into the living room where he did a quick look through, but turned up nothing. After stepping into the kitchen he spotted Diane’s purse sitting on the table. At first, Sam was rather hesitant to go rifling through the purse. Al blinked into view next to him.

        “What are you waiting for, Sam? If those pills aren’t anywhere else in the house then they’re probably in her purse.”

        Sam said, “Look, Al. I just feel a bit uncomfortable going through her purse, okay?”

        “This is one of those times where you can toss moral etiquette out the window; Diane’s life is at stake here. Just find those pills and get rid of them.”

        Unheard by Leaper and Observer, a car had pulled up into the driveway. As Sam morally debated his course of action, the car door opened and closed.

        “Hurry, Sam.”

        “Okay, okay.” Exhaling slowly, he opened the purse and reached a hand in, moving around some of its contents. The purse itself held nothing that warranted Sam’s immediate attention. Just when he thought he’d found something the front door opened.

        “Uh oh,” Al muttered.

        Just as Sam had pulled his hand out, Diane had stepped into the kitchen, staring at her ‘son’ with a mixture of anger and confusion. “Grant,” she asked slowly as she took another step towards him, “just what are you doing there?”

        Sam flustered madly as Al keyed in something on the handlink. “Uh, Mom, look…this isn’t what it looks like.”

        “Mind telling me what you were doing then?”

        “This isn’t good,” Al said with a frown as he shifted his gaze between Sam and Diane.

        “Mom,” Sam started to say but abruptly stopped when he’d changed his mind. How could he explain it? Anything he could say at that point wouldn’t stand up. Instead he zipped up the purse and handed it over to Diane.

        “Were you stealing, Grant?” she asked as the confusion and hurt were evident in her eyes.

        Sam quickly held up a hand and said, “No, no. I wasn’t stealing from you. It wasn’t like that at all. I was just—”

        “It sure as hell looked like you were trying to take something from me. I was half way to the grocery store when I realized that I forgot my purse. I come back here and catch my own son trying to steal money from me.”

        “I swear I wasn’t trying to steal from you.”

        “Then what were you doing?”

        There really wasn’t any other way around it. Both he and Al knew that. After stealing a quick glance over at the hologram, Sam decided to come forward. “Please,” he said as he gestured towards a couple of chairs, “take a seat. There’s something that I’d like to discuss with you.” When he saw the reluctance in her eyes, he gently prodded. When she took a seat he laid out all the cards on the table, so to speak. “Mom,” Sam thought for a quick moment as to how he would approach the subject. “I know that you’ve been taking Naproxen for your back pain.”

        Diane shrugged and asked, “So what? I’ve been taking it for about six months now. You knew that already.”

        “Be very careful, Sam,” Al commented. “You don’t want to say anything that would send her over the edge.”

        “Yes, I did. I also know that you haven’t been handling Zack’s death very well, either.  I’m worried that if the situation doesn’t get any better, then I’m afraid that you’re going to do something to hurt yourself.”

        “What are you talking about, Grant? You’re not making much sense here.” Even though she seemed to be dismissing Sam’s concern, there was that certain hint of truth, and it was something that Al had caught.

        “I think you just blew her cover, Sam.” Al eyed her for another moment before he said, “I think she knows that you know. Keep it up but be careful.”

        “Let me ask you something, alright? I want you to be honest with me, too.” When Diane nodded, Sam went on. “Has the thought of suicide ever crossed your mind?”

        Diane was taken aback by the comment but didn’t really deny it, either. “I…I don’t…” She trailed off as she looked out the kitchen window.

        “The reason I ask is because I know how troubling this is for you and Dad, and I don’t want you to ever think, even for a moment, that you don’t have the strength to move forward. You have it within you, I can see it. Dad can see it, too.” Gently taking her hand in his, he said to her, “We need you, Mom. Don’t leave us.”

        “How’d you know…” Diane couldn’t finish her sentence as she stared at Sam in amazement. “It’s too difficult, Grant. Everyday I try to find that strength but I can’t seem to. I’m just so damn confused.”

        “That’s why you have to let Dad and I help you and, along the way, you can help us.”

        Diane smiled a tearful smile. “How did you get to be so smart?” When Sam only smiled at her she then tilted her head and asked, “The one thing I want to know is, how did you know that I thought about…well, you know…”

        “Call it a gift,” Sam replied with a smirk. “I’m just concerned for your wellbeing. And,” he added as he glanced at the purse and then held his hand out to her, palm up, “If you wouldn’t mind, would you please hand me the pill bottle that’s in your purse?”

        Diane asked, although it sounded more like a statement, “Th-that’s why you were going through my purse, wasn’t it?”

        Sam nodded. “I didn’t want to take any chances. Now, please hand me the bottle. I promise that you will be able to still take the medication…but only at the recommended dosages.” At first, Diane shook her head and patted Sam’s hand but the look in the scientist’s eye was more than enough to let her know that he was serious.

        After consideration, she reached into her purse and produced a small tan, slightly transparent bottle. She handed it to Sam.

        Taking the bottle, Sam reached over and kissed her on the cheek. “And there’s just one more thing that I’d like for you to do today.”

        Both Diane and Al furrowed their brow at Sam as he sat there, smiling.

*~*~*~*

        “So you were able to talk her into it, huh?”

        Sam nodded and said, “Yeah. It was tough at first but I was able to convince her to do it.”

        David chuckled as he picked up a paint brush and dabbed it into jar of red modeling paint. He was working on the birdhouse; he was painting a section of the roof, detailing it with a skilled hand. “Just take it easy with her, okay, Grant?”

        “I will. I told her I’d be there with her and if it got to be too much for her then I’d bring her back here.”

        David set the brush down carefully on a piece of folded paper and turned to face Sam. “You know, she told me when I got back from the hobby store that she caught you going through her purse.”

        Sam flushed as he looked down at his feet.

        “Now, she didn’t tell me what you two talked about but what ever it was, it sure as hell made quite an impression on her.”

        “I’m just glad that I was able to help.” Both David and Sam looked over their shoulders when they heard the front screen door open and close. Diane smiled at them as she made her way towards a black SUV that was parked next to David’s pick up truck.

        Sam started to turn to leave when David called after him.

        “Just one thing I wanted to add here,” David said when he had Sam’s attention. “Although your mother told me that you weren’t trying to, the one thing I don’t tolerate is thievery. If I catch you stealing anything then I’ll have no regret tossing you out of here on your ass, whether or not you’re my son. You read me?”

        With a nod, Sam replied, “Loud and clear.”

        “Go on,” David said as he turned back towards his project, “go take care of your mother. I’ll be here when you guys get back.”

        Sam saw that Diane was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for him. He managed a couple of steps towards the SUV when he thought of something. “Dad?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder.

        “What is it?” David replied as he worked on the birdhouse.

        “Promise me one thing.”

        “What’s that?”

        “That no matter what happens to our family from here on out, that we’ll stick together; I already lost a brother, I don’t want to lose my mother and father, too.”

        David looked up from his project. He held his gaze on Sam and then, with a slight tip of the head, he said, “You got it.”

        Sam smiled and then turned around and got into the car.

        David watched as Sam backed out of the driveway, his eyes not leaving the vehicle until it disappeared around a corner. He sat there and thought about what Sam had asked of him. When his smirk had transformed into a smile, he turned back around and continued working on the birdhouse.

*~*~*~*

        Sam turned off the engine as he looked over at Diane. Her attention was not on Sam but at the section of land that was dotted with grave markers.

        As he unbuckled his seat belt, he asked her, “Mom?” He had to repeat himself two more times before he was able to gain her attention. “Are you ready?”

        “I think so.”

        He opened the car door and stepped out. He closed the door and went around to the other side, opening the door for her. When he shut the door for her, she simply stood there. Sam gently prodded for her to move forward, and she did. With each step that brought her closer to her son’s grave, her heart beat quickened, and before she knew it, she found herself standing in front of his grave. Slowly, she got down on one knee and reached out, lightly touching the raised lettering on the marker. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she traced each letter with her fingertips.

        Sam stood a few feet behind her, looking on with much compassion. To his right, the Imaging Chamber door opened and Al stepped through, the door sliding shut behind him.

        “Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Al glanced at the handlink when it produced a couple of beeps.

        “I felt that this was the first step towards her coping.” When the handlink beeped again, Sam asked Al as he watched Diane grieve, “So, everything works out fine, right? Diane and David get the help they need?”

        Al tapped a few buttons on the link, his expression hard to read. When he was finished reading the data, he slipped the link into his coat pocket. “Well, you did manage to change a few things. For starters, you got Diane to come out here, which is something that she never did the first time around.”

        “She doesn’t try suicide again, does she, Al?”

        Al held his gaze on Diane as he spoke. “You were able to prevent her from committing suicide…this time.” When Sam jerked his head over his shoulder, Al continued to relay the dismal information. “She—overdoes on Naproxen and vodka on October 13, 2007.”

        “I don’t believe it,” Sam said as his heart sunk. “That’s the same as the first time.”

        Al nodded. “I know, kid. Those last three years were hell for her.”

        “So I failed.” Sam turned his back on Diane and walked a few steps so that he would be out of earshot. When he and Al were at a safe distance, he ran a hand through his hair and blew air out through clenched teeth.

        “I don’t know how else to tell this to you, Sam, so I’m just going to come out and say it. After revising the data, Ziggy doesn’t think that you were really here to prevent Diane’s suicide.”

        “What?” Sam asked incredulously. “That’s crazy. Why would I Leap in here if I wasn’t here to save her?”

        “You see, I had Ziggy dig further into the records, and about a month after she died in the original history, David left town. He and Grant didn’t speak to each other since then, either. But you changed all that. Now Ziggy’s saying that David stays in Washington . In fact when Diane killed herself, Grant was around and he was able to help David through it. So, don’t be too down on yourself, Sam. Although you were unable to prevent Diane’s suicide, you did manage to bring Grant and David closer.”

        Even as he sighed, he started to feel the ever familiar tingle begin to creep down his body. He turned around and went back over to where Diane was. When Sam was standing behind her, she was on her knees, weeping as she touched the marker. She didn’t even notice Sam.

        Al re centered his image so that he was standing next to Sam. “I know it isn’t fair, Sam. I know that you tried your best but not all battles can be won. You did what you could and I think that He,” Al gestured upward with the handlink, “knows that as well.”

        As the tingle reached a crescendo, Sam closed his eyes. ‘I could’ve tried harder’ were the last words that Al heard as Sam was engulfed in temporal energy, the world around them exploding in incandescent white light.

PART FOUR

        When reality came back into focus, he saw that the tavern wasn’t all that all crowded. In fact, the few patrons that were present were scattered about. Near the doorway where Sam stood was a pool table. As Sam stepped inside the two men that were playing briefly looked up at him. The bar was to his right, with only about four people sitting on bar stools; two of the patrons were watching a baseball game on the television that was situated in upper right hand corner of the bar, while the other two conversed amongst themselves, sipping beer and munching on pretzels. Behind him, about three tables in total were occupied.

        “What can I get you?” the bartender asked as Sam went over to the counter.

        “Do you have light beer?” Sam asked as he glanced around the bar.

        “I got Bud Light and Coors Light in draft and bottles,” the bartender replied. “And I also got Miller Lite.”

        “Coors Light will be fine. In a bottle, please.”

        “Four fifty.”

        Sam frowned as he reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a slender black wallet. Opening the bill fold, he plucked out a five dollar bill and handed it to the bartender. “Four fifty for a bottle of beer?” he mused as the bartender handed Sam the bottle. As Sam took a seat, he sipped at the beer as he caught sight of a New Mexico issued driver license. The name on the license particularly caught Sam’s attention. He furrowed his brow as he took another swig of beer.

Project Quantum Leap

        Al was halfway to his office when he heard the alarm sound, which was promptly followed by Ziggy’s soft, silky voice announcing that she had detected Sam. “That was quick, considering that Sam only Leaped about ten minutes ago.”

        “Yes, Admiral, I am well aware of that fact, too. While I do find it rather peculiar that I was able to detect his quantum signature so soon after his last Leap, I should point out that this isn’t the first time that this has happened. I can account for about—”

        “Alright, alright,” Al grumbled as he waved a hand. “I’ll head on over to the Waiting Room, and then check in with Sam.”

        “Shall I have Doctor Beeks meet you there?”

        “Nah, I got this one handled. I’ll page her if I need to.”

        “Very well, Admiral.”

        It was about two minutes later that Al was standing at the base of the ramp that led up to the heavy hydraulic door of the Waiting Room. The young corporal that stood guard snapped Al a salute as the senior officer went up the ramp. After both retinal and palm scans had confirmed his identity, the door slid upward and Al entered the room. The Visitor was sitting on the examination table, sweeping his gaze about the four blue walls that surrounded him. When he saw Al he quickly hopped off the table and saluted him.

        Al couldn’t believe whom he was staring at. “Captain West?”

        West continued to salute as he responded, “Yes, sir.”

        “As you were,” Al said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. As Captain Raymond West sat back on the table, Al went over to him. “Ah, Ray, I know this will probably sound a little weird to you, but do you remember what today’s date is?”

        Ray said, “Of course, sir. It’s November.” He paused as he tried to recollect his thoughts. “The twenty-seventh, I think.”

        Al’s heart beat quickened with each passing moment. “And what year is it?”

        “2005. Is everything alright, sir?” Ray looked confused yet concerned at the same time. “Do you think you could tell me just exactly where I am, Admiral Calavicci?”

        Al’s mind was running a mile a minute. He could hardly believe his luck. Sam was three years in the past, and in the persona of the man who happened to be the last person to see Winchell alive. He barely heard Ray’s question and it wasn’t until another few moments that Al was able to answer the young naval officer. “Oh, uh, this…this is what we call the Waiting Room.”

        “How did I get here?”

        “That’s a tough one to answer.” Al was anxious to get to the Imaging Chamber to get in touch with Sam. The less time that was wasted, the better. However, just to make certain he asked the Visitor, “When was the last time you heard from Admiral Winchell?”

        “About a couple hours ago,” Ray told him as he furrowed his brow. “I got a phone call from him, asking to meet me at Town and Country. You know the place, right? That little bar in Albuquerque ?”

        Al nodded. He knew exactly what Ray was talking about. Town and Country was a bar that he and Alex had frequented a bit back in the early and mid eighties. He hadn’t been there in years. “Okay, great. Thanks, Ray, you’ve been a big help.”

        “Is everything alright, Admiral Calavicci? With Admiral Winchell, I mean.”

        Al tipped his head and said, “I sure as hell hope so. I couldn’t bear to go through it a second time, Captain.” And with those words said, Al turned his back to the Visitor and strode up the ramp, leaving the younger officer in a state of shock and confusion.

November 27, 2005

          Sam had just finished his beer when someone had tapped him on the shoulder. Turning around in his seat he found himself looking up into the face of an older gentleman who appeared to be around the same age as Al, give or take a few years. He wore a naval uniform and possessed a slight distant look in his dark eyes.

        “Sorry I’m late,” he told Sam as he offered him an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t expecting you to beat me here, Captain.”

        “Ah, well, you know me…Admiral,” Sam said as he noticed the two stars on the uniform. Just above his right breast he wore a small black name tag with the name Winchell inscribed on it. And, remarkably, he not only remembered that name but also everything else, including his previous Leap. What was going on here? “Admiral Winchell,” Sam said to himself, although the Admiral had heard him as well.

        “Glad you still remember me, Captain,” Winchell joked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “How about you go find us one of the tables in the back while I grab us a couple of beers?”

        Sam nodded and went into the back of the bar while Admiral Winchell paid for their drinks. Finding a table wasn’t difficult at all. Sam picked a table that was situated beside a jukebox. He leaned against the glass and looked at the selection of songs. One particular song had caught his attention; it was John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’. Smiling, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a couple of quarters. Dropping them in the coin slot, he made the selection and sat down, just as Admiral Winchell had arrived with their drinks.

        “Good song,” Winchell commented as he handed Sam a beer and took his seat.

        Taking a sip, Sam nodded. “It’s one of my favorites.”

        It was another moment before either man spoke. Winchell set his beer down as he looked Sam in the eye. “Ray, you probably already know why I asked you to meet me here tonight, don’t you?”

        Remembering the story that Al had told him during his previous Leap, Sam said, “I think I do, Admiral.”

        Winchell took a sip of beer and then set the bottle down, looking slightly annoyed at the Leaper. “This isn’t a military issue, Ray, so lose the formalities, alright? Call me Alex.”

        “Uh, y-yes, sir…ah, Alex,” Sam stammered. He ducked his head as his cheeks turned red from embarrassment.

        “You know,” Winchell went on as he swept his gaze across the bar, “I haven’t been here in a long time. In fact, the last time I was here, it was with a few other officers. Damn, that was over twenty years ago. Now those were definitely the days. You know we wouldn’t come here to drink so much but just to be here and…relax. I would come down here when some of the other officers were in town.” Winchell whistled in amazement and then he said, “Can’t believe that it’s already been that long. I’m telling you, Ray, this place hasn’t changed much.”

        The Imaging Chamber door appeared next to the bar, and when Al stepped through he froze in his tracks, his eyes locking onto two people who were sitting at a table in the back. The electronic beeping of the handlink had caught his attention. He inputted the command on the keypad without taking his eyes off the two men. As the sheet of white light disappeared behind him, he took a deep, calming breath and went over to the table. As he made his way over to the table, he swept his gaze across the room; a floodgate of memories came his way, memories of him and Alex Winchell together along with other officers, playing pool and throwing darts. It wasn’t long before that he found himself standing beside the table.

        “We have to talk,” Al said to Sam. However, both Sam and Winchell both looked over at Al.

        “Calavicci?” Winchell asked with a furrowed brow. “When the hell did you get here? I didn’t see you come in. I tried calling you earlier but I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

         “You…ah, you can see me?” Al asked nervously.

        Winchell took one look at Al’s lime green suit and retorted, “How could I not? You’re not exactly hard to miss, Albert.”

        Sam, feeling a bit anxious and rather confused, got up from his chair. “If you will excuse me, Alex, I would, um, like to have a word alone with Admiral Calavicci.”

        “Sure, go ahead. You two know where to find me.” Winchell lifted his glass to the two men and then took a sip.

        “He can see me,” Al said in amazement once he and Sam were in the restroom. “This shouldn’t happen.” He keyed in an inquiry on the handlink while Sam did a quick check to make sure that they were alone.

        “Al,” Sam said as he approached the hologram, “I can still remember. I remember it all, my last Leap that is. I even remember you telling me about these people.” Sam turned and faced a slightly streaked mirror, the reflection of Captain Raymond West looking back at him.

        “I don’t think we need Ziggy telling us what you’re here to do,” Al replied. As he spoke he noticed a certain look in the Leaper’s eye, a look often found on him when he was lost in thought. “You’re here to keep Alex from ending up with a light post for a hood ornament.”

        “Al,” Sam said as he turned his back on the mirror to look his friend in the eye, uneasiness quickly forming in his features, “I…don’t think that I’m here to do anything.”

        “What?” Al hadn’t shouted but spoke slowly, an obvious attempt to keep his blood pressure from passing the boiling point. “Sam, just what in the hell are you talking about? The man is sitting right out there. In about two hours, he’s gonna stagger himself out of here and get himself killed.”

        Sam rubbed his chin as he said, “Well, think about it, Al. He can see you.”

        “I know that,” Al replied as he held up the handlink and started to press a few of its colorful buttons. “Ziggy says that’s because his brainwaves are on a similar frequency…to…yours…” Al narrowed his eyes as Sam dismissed the explanation with a wave of the hand.

        “That’s not what I meant, Al. There’s a reason that he can see you. Think about it. Don’t you think that it’s a little too coincidental that the only other person in that bar who can see you is your friend?”

        Al shrugged his shoulders. “Well, yeah…okay, I give you that one. However, you’re the one that’s back there in 2005, not me, so you have to get out there and stop him.”

        Sam stopped in his pacing, mid stride, and turned back towards Al with an index finger pointed upward. “I remember you telling me during my last Leap that you felt guilty for not being there for your friend. That you wished you could’ve been there to talk to him, to help him. Al,” Sam said with a warm smile, “I think you’re being given that second chance. I’m not the person that he needs to be talking to right now. He needs you, Al.”

        Al looked past Sam towards the restroom door. “Ah, geez, Sam,” he groused, “I wouldn’t know what to say to him. The reason I wasn’t around the first time was because I was stuck back at the Project. I don’t know if you remember it or not, but this happened around the same time that you Leaped into somebody close in your daughter’s life.”

        “Sammy Jo?” Sam asked as a memory briefly merged through one of the many holes in his memory.

        Al nodded. “Yeah, it was when she was involved in that nasty car accident back in 1996. At the hospital some lunatic had tried to kill her, a revenge act against the guy that you’d Leapt into.” Al sighed as he slipped the handlink into his jacket pocket. “Anyway, I was so caught up in that that I wasn’t able to meet up with Alex. When I finally did manage to pull away for a couple hours, Captain West met up with me and told me what happened.”

        “Then go be with him, Al.” Tipping his head towards the door, Sam told his friend, “I don’t think that I’m the person he should be talking to. I couldn’t keep Diane Porter from killing herself but you can still save your friend.”

        Al started towards the door but abruptly stopped. “Wait a minute. What do I say to him?”

        “The best thing to do, Al, is to speak from the heart. Go out there and tell him all the things that you wished you could’ve said the first time around.”

        “What are you going to do?”

        With a smirk, Sam said, “I’ll be at the bar.” He opened the door and exited the room, leaving Al standing there, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

        “Hey there,” Winchell said when he looked up and saw Al standing beside the table. He quickly glanced around and then asked, “Where’s Ray?”

        Al shrugged and said, “Oh, uh, Captain West…he, ah, went to the bar for a minute. He’ll be back.”

        Winchell nodded. Gesturing towards the chair that Sam had been sitting in he said, “Take a seat.”

        “That’s okay; I think I’ll just stand.” Al quickly looked across the room and found Sam sitting at the bar, talking with the bartender. He then looked back over at his friend, the nervousness clearly visible in his features.

        “Oh, come on, Albert, I haven’t seen you in quite a while. Pull up a chair and kick back.”

        “Um, just a second there, Alex,” Al muttered as he turned his body in such a way so that Winchell couldn’t see him inputting a command in the handlink. After a couple of quick beeps, which caused Winchell to raise his eyebrows in question, Al stalled for a moment and then went over to the vacant chair, taking his seat. Although he was actually sitting on a small stepping stool provided by one of the technicians, Ziggy had altered his image so that it appeared as if he were sitting in the chair. “Look, Alex,” Al began as he nervously licked his lips and rubbed his sweaty palms together, “I’m sorry I didn’t get your call sooner.”

        “I only called you about a couple hours ago,” Winchell explained as he took a sip of beer. Setting the bottle down, he ran a hand through his slightly rumpled hair. “I just needed somebody to talk to and to throw a few back with. I figured the kid,” he tipped his head towards where Sam sat across the bar, “but he wouldn’t really understand, you know? I needed someone who I could better…ah, relate to.”

        Al completely understood where his friend was coming from. While Captain West was a remarkable young man and a fine officer, he simply didn’t have some of the life experiences that both he and Admiral Winchell shared. “So, have you been doing since…you know Steven’s death?”

        Winchell waved a hand as he said, “Not good, buddy. Every day I’m reminded of what happened, whether it’s when I turn on the damned TV or when I’m reading the paper. I can’t shut my eyes from it, Al. I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully as he picked up the beer bottle cap and gazed at it, “maybe this is God’s way of letting me know how badly I screwed up.” Flicking the cap to the ground, he looked up at Al and asked, “You’re a religious man, Calavicci, aren’t you? What do you think?”

        Al shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to think of the right words to say. For the first time, he could truly see in the man’s eye the emotional torment that he endured until the day he died. “Oh, man, Alex…I—I wouldn’t say that. I don’t think God is punishing you. You’re just going through some very dark times right now.”

        “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

        Al tried a different approach. “Listen, you knew Steven better than anyone did. Tell me something, here. Do you think that anything that you could’ve said or done would have kept him from going? Alex, he was serving his country, just like you and I did when our asses were shipped off to Vietnam .”

        “And do you remember the promise I made after we got back home?” Winchell didn’t wait for Al to respond. “I swore to myself that day that none of my children would ever have to go through what I did back in that damned jungle.”

        “But there was nothing that you could’ve done otherwise. The kid had a one track mind. Once his mind was made up, there was no changing it.” Al then smirked as he jabbed his cigar in Winchell’s direction. “That’s something he got from his old man.”

        “Oh please,” Winchell said with a laugh. “Like you were any different? Admiral, you were just as stubborn as I was back then, but a bit more of a hothead than me.”

        Al smirk didn’t waver as he leaned his head back, clearly enjoying the banter. “Ah, excuse me? This is coming from the guy who told Lieutenant Dobson to his face to go…ah, how did you put it? Oh yeah, to go ‘piss up a rope’. Don’t sit there,” Al continued as Winchell couldn’t keep from chuckling, “and tell me that I was a hothead. In fact, some of the stuff I picked up was from you.” Al sat there and shared in a laugh with his old friend.  He could see that some, if not a lot, of the tension was being lifted.

        “Okay, okay,” Winchell said as the last of his laughter dried up, “you got me on that one. I can’t believe you still remember that.”

        “How could anybody forget that, Alex? You said it loud enough for everybody at the base to hear it.”

        Winchell grinned as he took another sip of beer. “Those were the days, Al. A couple of young guys like us, both our lives and our careers ahead of us. Damn, I sure do miss those days.”

        “I do too. But you know,” Al said as he leaned forward in his seat, “not everything is lost. Let me help you; let me help you through these dark times, just like we did for each other back then. I’ve lost quite a few friends because of that damn war. In fact, my son-in-law lost a real close friend over in Iraq .”

        Winchell raised an eyebrow. “Son-in-law? Which one of your girls got married?”

         Al smiled as he told him. “Christa.”

        Winchell looked absolutely shocked. “Little Christa got married? Oh damn, Al! I still remember that Steven had a crush on Christa back when they were in high school, but I’m glad that they were able to be good friends.”

        “Steven was a damn good kid,” Al told Winchell. “It’s okay to grieve for the loss, but please don’t let it get the grief consume you. Trust me,” Al added as he held up a hand, “I know how painful it is, and it’s not an easy thing to say. You know you could always pick up the phone and call me.”

*~*~*~*~*

        Sam sat at the bar, talking with the bartender. He would occasionally glance over to where Al and Admiral Winchell sat, and was pleased to see the two of them talking. He felt that he made the right decision; he truly did feel that Al was meant to be the one to right the wrong. Sam just merely brought the two together. The strong hold of guilt that had carried over from his previous Leap was still as strong as ever. He did everything in his power to save Diane Porter but, to put it simply, Fate had been working against him. On the other hand, he was rather pleased to know that he had been able to help solidify the bond between Grant and David. Knowing that they would be able to help each other out and to move forward helped alleviate some of the pain. Now, here he sat, in the persona of a naval officer, looking on as his best friend was able to have the talk with his fellow officer, a chance that he had lost out on three years ago.

        Sam believed that Al would be able to help his friend. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that God, Fate, Time, or Whoever had wanted Al to be here. Until Al needed him, he would continue to sit at the bar and pass the time with small talk with the bartender.

        Something had caught his attention as he looked up over his shoulder, just before he made the shot that would sink the eight ball in the right corner pocket. He saw some old man sitting at a table in the back, apparently talking to thin air. He wasn’t just talking to himself, he noted, but was actually having a conversation with somebody who wasn’t there. He smirked as he stood up, propping the pool stick against the table. “Hey, Jeff, check out the old guy in the back, the one in that uniform.”

        Jeff looked over and saw what his friend had pointed out to him. “That’s some crazy crap, man. Looks like Gramps can’t hold his liquor.” He then looked back over at his friend, pointing at the pool stick. “Come on, man, it’s your shot.”

         Jeff’s friend shook his head as he picked up the pool stick and leaned over the table, carefully aiming his shot. He grinned as the tip of the pool stick connected with the eight ball. And, as he had predicted, the ball went straight into the right hand corner pocket.

*~*~*~*~

        He still could hardly believe it. There he was, sitting across from a table with a close friend who had been dead for the past three years. Through the miracle of Quantum Leaping, Al had been brought back into the life of Admiral Alexander Winchell, and Al was determined to not let his friend drink away his sorrows the second time around. Al knew that he didn’t have much time left so he decided to get straight to the point. “Alex,” he said somberly as he looked the other man in the eye, “I don’t have much time left but there’s something that I need to tell you. It’s very important that you listen to me carefully.”

        “Sure thing, Al,” Winchell replied with a furrowed brow. “What is it?”

        “I need you to promise me that no matter how bad things get, you will never be alone, not really. All it will take is a single phone call and I’ll be down here ASAP. I am here for you, and I always will be. I know how hard the times are right now but I just want you to know that I’m there for you, day or night. If you need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to pick up that phone, alright?”

        Winchell nodded.

        “And,” Al said as he eyed the bottle of beer in Winchell’s hand, “I want you to promise me that you’ll find other means of coping. Trust me, alcohol may help you forget for a short while but in the end, the problems are still there, waiting for you.” Al sighed. “Promise me, Alex, that you’ll consider it. And if you still insist on drowning your sorrows, make damn sure that you have somebody to drive you home, okay?”

        Winchell smirked. “You got it, pal.” He then extended his hand as he said, “You’re one hell of a guy, Calavicci.”

        Al sat there, his eyes quickly watering. Even though he’d been blessed with a second chance, the given fact that he was denied a simple handshake was killing him. “Oh, uh…I…” he then stole a glance over his shoulder and saw Sam sitting at the bar, watching a replay of a baseball game on the television, and snacking on some peanuts. “I’ll be right back.” And before Winchell could say anything, he went over to Sam. “Sam, I need you to do me a favor,” he told the Leaper. “I need you to write…me a letter.” The look on Sam’s face was questioning Al’s request. “Sam, not me but the me that’s here, in 2005. I need you to write him a letter, telling him to keep in touch with Admiral Winchell. I promised Alex that I would be there for him, no matter what, and I don’t want to be falling back on that promise.”

        Sam then got up and went out the door, looking for the vehicle that belonged to Captain West. Al pointed out the Captain’s blue Ford Taurus. When Sam opened the passenger door, he found a brief case in the backseat. He undid the latches and opened it. There inside, among other things, were a few envelopes, pen, and paper. He was glad to see that the envelopes already had the postage stamp on them.

        When Sam was finished writing the letter, he narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Al. “Ah, Al? What address should I put on it?”

        Al thought for a moment then said, “Put my home address on it. Here, I’ll give it to you.” As Al told Sam the address, Sam wrote it on the envelope. He then walked about half a block to where the nearest mailbox was. Sam slipped it in the mailbox.

        “Let’s get going,” Al said. “I’ll meet you back at the bar.” Al pulled the handlink out of his pocket and pressed a button. His image vanished.

        Exhaling slowly, Sam turned around and headed back towards the bar.

        “Where the hell did you two run off to?” Winchell asked when he saw Sam and Al walking over to his table.

        “Oh, ah, I just…stepped outside for a breath of fresh air,” Al said.

        “Sorry we took so long,” Sam added with a smile.

        “It’s alright,” Winchell said as Sam took a seat. Al remained standing next to Sam. For a moment Winchell looked as if he wasn’t sure what to say but then, looking past Sam, something had caught his attention. “Hey guys,” Winchell said as he stood up, “how about a few games of darts? You remember that, don’t you, Al? Remember how I used to kick your butt at this game?” Winchell grinned as he added, “By the way, you still owe me fifty bucks.”

        Al exclaimed, “No way, Alex! I won that last game fair and square!”

        Winchell chuckled as he turned his attention to Sam. Cocking a thumb at Al he said, “Captain, back in the day, Calavicci and I used to play darts for hours on end when ever we would come down here, and every time I would win.”

        “I don’t think so,” Al interjected. “If I remember correctly, it was you who got distracted by that young lookin’ waitress.”

        Winchell playfully waved off Al’s comment as he moved past the two men, towards the dart board that was fastened to the wall, next to a pinball machine. After he plucked all the darts off of the board, he turned back around. His grin quickly turned into a look of utter confusion as he only saw a rather perplexed looking Captain West standing behind him. He frowned as he looked to either side of the bar. “Uh, Captain? Did you happen to see where Admiral Calavicci went?”

        “Admiral Calavicci?” questioned West with a frown that matched Winchell’s. “Um…no, can’t say that I have.”

        Winchell, still rather confused by the events of the evening, went over and handed West a couple of darts.

Project Quantum Leap

September 17, 2008

        Al had been still smiling as Sam had Leaped, the hologram around him quickly dissolving. For about a minute, he stood there in the vast, empty Imaging Chamber. Keying in the command on the handlink, the thick metallic door slid open. He was still smiling as he stepped down the ramp. Going over to the main console, he saw Dominic Lofton standing behind it, conversing with Sammy Jo and Tina. All three had greeted him when they saw him. Al greeted back and then looked up at the sparkling, shimmering blue orb that housed Ziggy’s intellect. “Ziggy? Could you tell me where Admiral Alexander Winchell is?” As Ziggy quickly scanned the records, Al prayed that he had indeed been able to save his friend.

        “According to current records, Admiral Alexander Winchell is living in Albuquerque , New Mexico . He retired from the military on August 29, 2006.”

        Al sighed heavily in relief. “That’s great, Zig. That’s the best damn news I’ve heard all day.”

        “Of course,” Ziggy went on, “that the new timeline has yet to catch up to you, otherwise you would know that you are scheduled to meet with Admiral Winchell at a place called Town and Country in about two hours. Quite a parochial name if you ask me.”

        “Nobody did.” As Al handed over the handlink to Dom, the room started to blur and spin. He nearly lost his footing; he reached out and braced himself against the console, taking in deep breaths. When the room had stopped spinning, he looked up and saw three concerned faces staring at him.

        “Are you alright, Admiral?” Dom asked as he started to go over to Al but stopped when Al held up a hand.

        “I’m alright,” Al told them. As he waved off their help, his brain was suddenly filled with memories that had not been there, not even an hour ago; he could remember, since Sam’s Leap, coming home late one night and finding a letter in his mailbox, written by Captain Raymond West, asking Al if he would keep an eye out on Alex, to help see him through the dark times. He also remembered meeting with Alex on several occasions. Some of the times Beth and the family had been with him, but mainly it was just he and Alex at Town and Country, playing darts. “Thanks, Sam,” Al said as he left the Control Room.

Town and Country

Albuquerque , New Mexico

        The moment that Al had stepped into the bar, he saw, standing across the room, Admiral Alex Winchell playing darts. Al was about half way over when Winchell looked over his shoulder, grinning.

        “You’re two minutes late, Calavicci,” Winchell said.

        “So sue me,” Al retorted as he went over and extended his hand. When Winchell gripped it, Al quickly pulled the man into a one armed hug. Even though he had the memories of the new timeline, Al could still recall being in the Imaging Chamber, talking to Winchell, and the pain that he’d felt when he couldn’t even shake the man’s hand. When Al had pulled away from the hug, he noticed the strange look that Winchell was giving him.

        “What the hell was that for?” Winchell asked him.

        “I’m—just glad to see you,” Al said. “It’s been too long.”

        Winchell laughed as he said, “It’s only been two months. Really, Al, you shouldn’t spend so much of your time buried under the desert.”

        “Yeah, really,” Al commented. He then took notice of the darts that Winchell held. Grinning mischievously, he asked the retired Admiral, “So, are you ready to lose again?”

        “Hardly,” Winchell replied as he handed Al a few darts. “Besides, I’m still waiting on the fifty bucks you’ve owed me for the past five years.”

        Al chuckled as Winchell moved past him, over to the dart board where he retrieved the rest of the darts. When he came back, he handed Al two more.

        “Let’s see if your luck holds out this time.” Winchell then took a step back, motioning for Al to step forward. “You go first.”

        Al took a moment, aiming his throw just right, and then with ease, he threw the dart. It struck the bullseye. “After all these years,” Al said, “I still got it.”

        “We’ll see about that,” Winchell commented as Al moved a step back and he took his place. When he threw the dart, it landed just a hair above Al’s dart. “Better watch your back, Calavicci.”

        The rest of the first hour had been spent playing darts. When they were finished, they went over to the exact same table that they had shared three years earlier, or rather a couple hours ago, from Al’s perspective. During their conversation, Al allowed himself only one beer, as did Winchell. They, as usual, talked about their younger days in the Navy, their families, and even a little bit about Winchell’s deceased son, Steven. Even though each day was a struggle, Alexander Winchell was able to pull through, with a little help from Al.

        Winchell always valued the time that he spent with Al; a part of him always questioned what really happened three years prior on that night in November. It was as if he had shown up seemingly out of nowhere, being there just long enough to offer a few comforting words before disappearing into thin air. And ever since that night, whenever he and Al would get together, he would always think back to that night. He never brought it up with Al, for if it indeed had been some wild and crazy dream, he didn’t need Al to think of him as ‘losing his marbles’. Whether it was some sort of dream, or even something else that he had yet to think of, he would always be thankful for it. And perhaps one of these days, he would mention it to Al, but for now, he would simply sit back and enjoy the time spent with an old friend.