From: Coast2C@aol.com Date: Tue, 30 Apr 1996 21:16:50 -0400 Message-ID: <960430210245_387196720@emout13.mail.aol.com> Subject: Convergence: Author's Notes and Part 1 of 25 Author's Notes: 1. I am a dyed-in-the-wool Dean Stockwell fan and find the character of Al Calavicci intriguing. Do not despair Dr. Beckett fans; there is still plenty of Sam in this, but he's been relegated to co-star status. Get over it or wait for the next Sam-centered story to appear on the newsgroup. 2. I am in denial about 'Mirror Image'. It never happened. Even Donald P. Bellisario himself can't convince me it ever happened. So there. 3. This is my first attempt at fan fiction. I didn't even know about Quantum Leap until a few months ago. Sorry, what can I say? I don't watch much television. I started fiddling with the idea of a Quantum Leap story while snowed in at home this past winter. It took on a life of its' own and demanded to be written. 4. Comments, questions, criticism, adulation, flames, etc. may be directed to the author at: 0002682600@mcimail.com or coast2c@aol.com Go ahead, I can take it. Trust me, I've heard worse. Depending on the feedback I get, I might be persuaded to write and post more Quantum Leap stories this summer when it's too hot and humid to sleep. I'll let you guess whether criticism or adulation is more likely to motivate me. 5. When I wrote this story I had no intention of posting it. At the time I wasn't even aware that creative newsgroups existed (gasp!). In its' original incarnation, this story _definitely_ would have required an X-rating. I have edited it for posting but, since Al Calavicci is the main character, there are still a few sexual situations that may not be suitable for younger readers. This story contains graphic descriptions of physical abuse of a child, told in retrospect. There is also some mild profanity. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. 6. The author (me) hereby gives permission for this story to be posted and/or archived within the bounds of good netiquette. However, all headers, notes and text should be preserved in their entirety. Please ask me for permission to use this story in any other manner. 7. The story is even longer than the author's notes. It will be posted in 26 parts as follows: Convergence: Story Guide, Convergence: Author's Notes and Part 1 of 25, Convergence: Parts 2 - 24 of 25, and Convergence: Part 25 of 25 and End Notes. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it bears to reality is purely coincidental. Try and prove it's not. The characters of Paul and Jenna Tyler, The Sorensons, William Lederer and General Joseph Brooks belong to me. If you would like to use them (like that would ever happen), ask me. Quantum Leap and the Quantum Leap characters do _not_ belong to me. If they did the show would still be in production. No copyright infringement is intended by my use of them in this work of fiction. A four word quote and a brief scene description from the Quantum Leap novel 'Prelude' by Ashley McConnell appear in part # 12. Again, no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't sue me. I have a menagerie of semi-innocent dogs and cats to support. That having been said, on with the story... * * * * Convergence by Dana Anderson Part 1 of 25 Admiral Albert Calavicci was in a foul mood. He thought he had become used to his reality changing in some way nearly every time he returned from the Imaging Chamber, but the changes that had been happening lately weren't the changes he wanted. It had been three weeks since he had returned to find that, once again, Tina and Gushie were married. Al was normally able to accept this with some grace; knowing that, in all probability, the next time he visited Sam and came back Tina would be his again. Sam had leaped three times since the last time Al had been with Tina. Al had been in and out of the Imaging Chamber at least a dozen times but, still, Tina and Gushie were man and wife. Al crunched out five more pushups and plopped back down, full length and face down on the floor of his quarters. Perhaps a shower and a hearty breakfast would improve his mood. *Probably not,* he thought. Al climbed to his feet and shed his clothes on the way to the bathroom. He flirted momentarily with the idea of a cold shower, but thrust the thought away; why suffer more than absolutely necessary? As he showered, he wondered how he had managed to break it off with most of his convenient 'Tina Standins', as he thought of them, at the same time. Two of them had become too demanding and he had backed away. The others had simply seemed to disappear. Lucy to another government project, Carlotta married, Sarah back to school for another degree...all gone. Al stepped from the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped off the mirror in preparation for his morning shave. He regarded his reflection grimly and growled under his breath "Well, Calavicci...you should decide what you're going to do if it turns out that Tina is permanently off limits." He shook the thought off, not ready to accept the possibility. After shaving and dressing in a black shirt and tie and charcoal pants, which reflected his mood if not his normally flamboyant sartorial tastes, Al left his quarters and set course for the cafeteria. *Okay, maybe breakfast will help,* he thought. *If not, I'll have to hop in the car and take a trip to Santa Fe.* At the moment, this shouldn't pose a problem as Dr. Samuel Beckett had leaped but not yet landed. Unfortunately, that could change at any moment. Al would experience 'triptus interruptus' if whoever or whatever was leaping Sam around in time finally decided where they wanted the quantum physicist to go next. He arrived at the cafeteria, nodded to a few people who said good morning and helped himself to eggs, toast and black coffee. Deciding he wasn't in the best mental shape for human interaction, Al began to wend his way toward an empty table at one side of the cafeteria. Before he had a chance to sit down the handlink in his pocket, his pipeline to Ziggy, the hybrid parallel computer, beeped wildly. "Admiral, please report to the Waiting Room at your earliest convenience" a female voice announced. *Great,* thought Al sourly, *I didn't even get to eat my breakfast and head for the parking lot, much less Santa Fe.* He reversed course, dumped his food into the trash, deposited his tray on the counter and headed for the door. This was really going to improve his state of mind. * * * * Al straightened his shoulders as he stepped through the door to the Waiting Room, which had been opened for him by the marine corporal on guard outside. The guard was present not only to insure that their visitors from the past were exposed to as little of the future as possible, but to limit access to the visitor to the short list of Project personnel who were authorized to interact with them. Besides Al, only Dr. Verbena Beeks, the Project psychiatrist, was allowed unescorted access. Al performed a sweeping inspection of the room, but did not see the visitor. *Wonderful. Another terrified one.* Well, there weren't many places to hide. As he stepped around the highly polished table in the center of the room to check behind its' support column he was already planning to call Dr. Beeks and get her involved. He knew he wasn't in the right frame of mind to be supportive and patient with a confused and frightened visitor from the past. Less than two minutes later, it wasn't a visitor from the past who needed to be worried about Al's mental state. There was no visitor. Al stalked out of the Waiting Room and into the Control Room. "Why did Ziggy tell me to report to the Waiting Room?" Al asked Gushie. "It's standard procedure when Dr. Beckett has leaped" Gushie stammered with a startled expression. "Sam didn't leap!" Al said in an exasperated growl. "But...but..." Gushie sputtered, pointing at the readouts on the control panel. Then his eyes popped further into prominence. "Oh, my" he breathed. "Dr. Beckett has leaped again" Ziggy informed the room. "Gushie, what the _hell_ is going on?" Al demanded. "Dr. Beckett leaped," the head programmer said "but just when Ziggy had his location pinpointed, he leaped again." Al whipped around and headed back to the Waiting Room. This time he was somewhat prepared for what he found. An empty room. Al scrubbed his face with one hand. *I knew when I got up this morning it was going to be a rotten day,* he thought. *I should have skipped breakfast and gone straight to Santa Fe.* He paced back to the Control Room, beginning to feel like a ping pong ball in a championship table tennis game. "Where's Sam now, Ziggy?" Al said as he entered the room. "Dr. Beckett has leaped thirteen point seven five hours further into the past from his last location. He is currently in 1989. September 1st, six fifteen a.m. local time. According to my calculations, he has leaped twice into the same person" the computer replied. "Who has he leaped into?" Al continued. "I have not yet been able to establish that, Admiral" Ziggy said. "Can't you ask the person in the Waiting Room who they are?" Gushie inquired. "There's a slight problem with that" Al informed him. "There's no one _in_ the Waiting Room." Al turned away from the startled programmer and addressed the computer again. "Ziggy, do you have a lock on Sam?" "Yes, Admiral" the computer confirmed. "Finally" Al growled as he walked over to the Imaging Chamber. "Something's working the way it's supposed to around here." * * * * As Sam's current whereabouts resolved around Al, he glanced around and took in the white walls, nondescript linoleum and a view out the window that included a long row of identical buildings. The identification 'government living quarters' jumped into Al's mind without prompting. Al turned around and saw Sam standing in the middle of the room. He was wearing a white T-shirt, severely starched olive drab fatigue pants and extremely shiny black combat boots. Sam was looking closely at a nylon wallet in his hands. "I guess I'm going to have to spend a lot of time with you on this one, Sam" Al remarked. "You're terrible at even _approximating_ proper military behavior." He walked over to where his friend was standing and looked at the wallet Sam had been studying. "I'm a woman again" Sam complained. Al checked the photo on the United States Army identification card Sam had produced from the wallet. "Better than that, pal. You're a really good looking woman" Al said, glancing around. "Is there a full length mirror around here?" Sam looked up from the wallet into Al's face. "What for?" He pointed at the ID card. "You can see what she looks like." "I want to see if the rest of her stacks up to the standard her face establishes" Al explained. "Don't start..." Sam warned Al. "Let me see that ID card again" Al said. When Sam hesitated, Al sighed. "Not so I can see the picture. What's your name?" Sam looked at the card. "It says Tyler, Jenna, NMN." He looked back at Al. "What does NMN mean?" "No middle name" Al replied, looking around the room again. "Have you seen your fatigue shirt?" "No. Why?" Sam asked. "Because it will have rank and unit insignia sewn on it" Al replied. "How about a newspaper or letters? Letters would be best, we can check the address." "What's wrong, Al? Can't you talk to the real Jenna Tyler in the Waiting Room and get some of this information?" Sam inquired. Al sighed. "Not this time, Sam. There's no one _in_ the Waiting Room." Sam was shocked. "Where did she go?" "That" Al said "is the sixty four thousand dollar question." "What have you found out already?" Sam wanted to know. "Not much" Al confirmed. He punched a few buttons on his handlink. "It's September 1st, 1989. We don't know where you are, but now that we know _who_ you are I'll have Ziggy start digging." Sam still had a concerned look on his face. "If she didn't leap into the future when I leaped here, what's going to happen to her when I leap out?" "Maybe she'll come back from wherever she went" Al shrugged, unwilling to worry about a situation over which he had no control. "Anyway, our first concern is to figure out what you're here to do." At that moment they heard water running through a pipe and then footsteps on the ceiling. "There's someone upstairs!" Sam whispered tensely. Al pointed to a picture resting on a set of shelves which stood against the living room wall. "Probably him." They walked over for a closer look. The photograph showed the same woman whose picture was on the ID card Sam had found. She was seated across a man's lap and had her arms around his shoulders. She was very photogenic and the photographer had caught her perfectly. There was a quality of passionate devotion in the look she was giving the man that was rare to see in life and even less often captured on film. The inscription on the photo said 'To Paul and Jenna, Happy Tenth Anniversary, June 18th, 1988'. "We'd better get you out of here fast, Sam" Al remarked. "I tend to agree with you, but why do you say so?" Sam asked. Al jerked a thumb at the photo. "Any couple who looks at each other like _that_ after ten years of marriage probably doesn't sleep in twin beds. Hell, if any one of my wives would have looked at me like that after ten _weeks_ I'd probably still be married." Al sighed. "Lucky guy" he whispered. They heard a drawer open and close upstairs and more footsteps. "Come on, Sam" Al prompted. "Let's see what else we can find before he finishes dressing and comes downstairs." The living room held nothing else of a personal nature so they went into the kitchen. There were two bills and a magazine on the counter. The first two were addressed to Lt. Colonel Paul Tyler, Quarters 117, Ft. Ritchie, MD. The magazine was addressed to Lt. Colonel Jenna Tyler at the same address. Al relayed this information to Gushie, then turned back to Sam. "They're both half colonels" Al remarked, then began to rub one fingertip against his temple. "I wonder if one of them has time in grade on the other or if they take turns being in charge." Sam scowled at him, then started at the sound of booted footsteps coming down the stairs. A man strode into the kitchen. His face matched the man in the photograph. He was tall, a couple of inches over six feet, with brown hair and hazel eyes. *If his hair were a little lighter and he shaved off that mustache,* Al thought, *he and Sam might be mistaken for brothers.* The new arrival was dressed in a fashion identical to Sam. He walked up to Sam and kissed his cheek. "Morning, honey" Paul Tyler said, then looked around. "Breakfast isn't ready. You haven't even started the coffee." "He's got the time in grade over her" Al concluded. Sam glared at his friend, then turned to his 'husband'. "Sorry," he stammered. "I wasn't sure what you wanted for breakfast." Paul looked at him closely. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked. Sam nodded. "Then I don't know why you'd think I might want something different than usual" Paul said shaking his head slightly. He reached into a cupboard and brought out a box of cereal. Sam covered his confusion by opening the coffee canister and preparing to get the coffee maker going. Al stood in a corner of the kitchen and talked quietly with Gushie and Ziggy. When the coffee was ready, Sam poured some into two mugs and brought them over to the table. He gave one to Paul and sat down opposite him with the other. "I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday" Paul said to Sam in a serious tone. Sam glanced up at Al. Al just shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands to indicate he, and therefore probably Ziggy, hadn't a clue. "What about yesterday?" Sam ventured, looking back at Paul. "Come on, Jen. Quit fooling around. You know what I'm talking about. You jumped me in the men's room, for God's sake" Paul complained. Al's head jerked up. "She did _what_!?" he exclaimed and moved over to the table so he could observe the exchange more closely. He had a look of riveted attention on his face. It took all Sam's will power to refrain from chastising his friend. "Oh, that" Sam said to Paul. "'Oh, that' she says" Paul repeated in exasperation. "Look, I know the gym is usually deserted at that time of the evening, but what if someone _had_come in?" "I could have said I went into the wrong room by mistake?" Sam suggested. "Sure" Paul replied. "And got all the way through the men's locker room, the men's showers and into the latrine before you realized your error." "Uh huh" Sam attempted. "You were stark naked!" Paul exclaimed. "Naked?" Al chortled. "I've got to meet this woman. She's got a real sense of adventure." "Then you expected me to, well, you know what you expected me to do. Right there where someone could have walked in at any moment" Paul said. "This guy's worse than you are, Sam." Al observed. "They're married for crying out loud." "We're married, Paul" Sam said. "I know we're married. What the heck does that have to do with you expecting me to have sex with you in the men's room at the gym?" Paul demanded. "There's only one answer for that, Sam" Al said. "He's been ignoring her; taking her for granted. She probably thought she could shock him into a reaction. Looks like it worked, too, but not the way she hoped." "I'm sorry" Sam said. "I just thought, well..." he trailed off. Paul sighed. "Never mind. Just don't do it again, okay? Do you want some more coffee?" Sam nodded and Paul picked up both mugs and walked over to the other side of the kitchen. Sam turned to Al. "You were right, Al" he whispered. "I've got to get _out_ of here. What do you think I should do?" "I don't know, pal" Al replied. "But one thing's for sure. We're not going to be meeting in the head for any of our conferences on _this_ leap." Sam glared at him, then turned back to his cereal as Paul returned with the coffee. "You know what I'm going to have to do if you don't get over this behavior don't you?" Paul began. Al perked up again. "Ah hah, it wasn't an isolated incident. See if you can get him to tell you about the other times, too, Sam." Sam studiously ignored the observer. "What?" Sam asked. Paul took a sip of his coffee and developed a glint in his eyes to go with a wicked smile. "I'm going to go out and find that ideal man you told me about. Maybe he can settle you down." "Ideal man?" Sam and Al said together. Paul, of course, only heard Sam. "You thought I forgot about that didn't you?" Paul asked. "We got along great from the first day we met, but you said our relationship wouldn't last because I didn't fit your image of the ideal man." "I did?" Sam said. "Don't pretend you don't remember" Paul teased. "I even remember your description of him." "Do tell" Al commented, completely enthralled now. Paul went on as though he had heard Al's request. "Let me see," he began. "Five ten or shorter, dark hair, dark eyes, an overdeveloped sex drive, an uninhibited state of mind and an overactive imagination. Did I forget anything?" Al was punching buttons on the handlink like mad. He turned to Sam. "I'm at the Pentagon right now, Sam. That's only an hour from here. Grab the car keys, tell this stiff you found your ideal man and drive like mad. When you get there, throw yourself into my arms. I'll do the rest." Sam answered Paul instead of Al. "You didn't say how old" he said, glancing at Al out of the corner of his eye. "You didn't either" Paul claimed. "All you said about that was 'Old enough to know better, young enough not to care and energetic enough to keep up with his imagination'." "Come on, Sam" Al pleaded. "Be a pal. Hey, maybe that's why you're here; to make sure she and I meet!" Sam continued to ignore his friend. "That was a long time ago" he said to Paul. "Before I fell in love with you." "True" Paul said, reaching out and putting one hand over Sam's. "But if what they say about a woman reaching her sexual peak in her forties is accurate I'm a doomed man. I can't keep up with you now." Paul patted Sam's hand once, then looked at his watch. "We'd better get going" he said, pushing himself away from the table. Sam rose too and started to clear the breakfast dishes. Paul left the kitchen. "Sam," Al exclaimed "you're ignoring me." "Yes, I am" Sam responded in a furious hiss. "And I'll continue to ignore you until you have something useful to say." "Well," Al grumbled "it's not fair. You leap into a gorgeous woman who thinks _I'm_ the perfect man and my best friend won't introduce us. I don't even get to talk to her in the Waiting Room so I can give her my phone number." "Maybe that's why she didn't show up in the Waiting Room" Sam ventured. "To keep you from ravaging her while she's in the future." "She sure wouldn't have to jump me in the men's room to get my attention" Al agreed. "Come on, let's go!" Paul's voice came from the front hallway. Sam put the last of the dishes in the sink. He wiped his hands and walked toward the front door, followed closely by Al. Paul had opened the hall closet. He turned to Sam. "Do me first?" Paul asked. "Sure" Sam said, not knowing how else to respond. When Paul unbuckled his belt and started to unbutton the fly of his fatigue trousers, Sam's mouth dropped open. "Close your mouth, Sam" Al advised. "You don't want to give him any ideas that you're not ready to go through with." Sam's mouth snapped shut and Al nodded in approval. Paul spread his legs slightly and lowered his trousers to a point just below his hips. Sam gulped and looked at Al. "You could faint," Al suggested "but I doubt that would be in character." Paul reached into the closet and brought out a stiffly starched fatigue shirt. He slid his arms carefully into the sleeves so as not to part the fabric along the quarter inch just below the top crease. Al heaved a deep sigh of relief. "He just wants you to blouse the back of his shirt, Sam" Al told him. Sam gave Al a quizzical look. Paul had turned so that his back was to Sam. "When he finishes buttoning his shirt," Al began "he'll hold the front tail down. You grab the shirt with both hands here" Al pointed to either side of Paul's waist on a line directly below his shoulder blades "and fold the extra fabric under the back of the shirt." Al demonstrated the movement for Sam. When Paul finished buttoning the shirt and thrust his hand down the front of his trousers, Al repeated the movement and Sam followed his example. "Hold the folds flat with your thumbs, Sam" Al advised. Sam did as Al told him. Paul grabbed the waist of his pants and pulled them up carefully. He positioned the beltline over Sam's thumbs and buttoned his fly. When he started to fasten his belt he said "Okay." and Al motioned for Sam to remove his thumbs from the waistline of Paul's trousers. Paul and Sam repeated the procedure, with the responsibilities and actions reversed. "Check your gig line" Paul said when Sam had finished buckling his belt. "He means the edge of your shirt front, the edge of your belt buckle and the edge of your fly should all be aligned vertically. Boy," Al said, rolling his eyes. "I'm all for wearing the uniform with pride, but these two must have been potty trained at gunpoint." Paul reached into the closet and brought out two caps. As he turned, Sam saw that there was a full length mirror attached to the back of the closet door. Sam stepped up to the mirror and adjusted his clothing. Al moved up to stand beside him and checked out the reflection there. "Wow," Al said appreciatively, his eyes narrowing. "She's even sexy in utilities. Not many women can overcome the disadvantages of O.D. green cotton and black combat boots, but she's one of them." Sam had to agree, but he didn't say so out loud. Jenna had dark brown, almost black, wavy hair that was cut short, but in a style that enhanced the femininity of her face. She had large, dark brown eyes with long dark lashes set in a lovely face with high cheekbones and a full sensuous lower lip that somehow went perfectly with the bow shape of her mouth and her determined chin. Sam smiled at the reflection, causing the entire face to light up and producing a dimple in one of Jenna's cheeks. Al caught his breath and bit his lower lip. Sam shot him a murderous glance. "You're doing this to torture me" Al accused. "She's even got a dimple. And that body..." he put his face in his hand and shook his head. Sam looked back into the mirror and saw that even the masculine cut of the fatigue uniform did little to disguise the full breasts, shapely waist and gently rounded hips. Judging from the reflection, Jenna was between five four and five five. The top of her head would just come up to the bridge of Al's nose, Sam thought, and if she stepped into Al's arms her chin would settle naturally into the hollow of his shoulder at the base of his neck. No wonder Al was suffering. He could look but not touch and looking wasn't enough for Al. "Okay, you're beautiful" Paul said in a slightly exasperated tone as he handed Sam a cap. "Let's go." "He doesn't deserve her, Sam" Al complained. "Please, I'm begging you; drop him off at work and head for D.C. I promise she won't be sorry." Sam just shook his head slightly and stepped toward the front door. "Fine," Al grumbled. "Have it your way. I'm going back to see if Ziggy has come up with anything." He punched the handlink and stepped into the doorway that appeared. Al gave Sam one more disgruntled look, punched the handlink again and disappeared behind the Imaging Chamber door. * * * * Al stepped back into the Control Room. "What have you got on this Lt. Colonel Tyler?" he asked Gushie. "Nothing, Admiral" Gushie replied. "Ziggy says she doesn't exist." "Well, Sam leaped into someone who's doing a pretty fair imitation of existing back in 1989. She has a U.S. Army ID card, a home and a husband. Paul Tyler thinks she exists" Al said. "I'm sorry, Admiral. We'll keep working on it, but I'm not sure how much good it will do" Gushie said. Al walked into the Waiting Room again. There was still no one there. Al sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well, Jenna no middle name Tyler, where the hell did you go?" he wondered aloud. * * * * End Part 1 of 25