From: Jason Eric Dzembo <dzembj@rpi.edu>
Date: Mon, 30 Aug 1993 07:38:55 -0400
Message-Id: <9308301138.AA19878@localhost>

       Music filled the air around him as he coalesced into his new
host.  It was loud and eerie, a single chord reverbrating all
around him.  His head was thrown back as if in maniacal laughter
and gradually, uncertainly he lowered it and looked around.  As he
did, the chord faded to a drum roll and abruptly ended.
       He was hovering about ten feet above the floor of a stage
set up to look like a rooftop.  In front of the stage was a rather
large audience, watching him.
       Sam swallowed sharply.  "Oh, boy."
                              Part III
                          December 13, 1985
       Squeaking slightly, the heavy curtain began to close,
seperating Sam from the audience and, most likely, from certain
embarassment.  He breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  As he did so,
he became of a peculiar sensation over the right half of his face. 
He raised a hand to it gently and encountered a fragile but sturdy
mask.  He drew it off gently and studied it.  It was white, almost
like porcelain, and a shiver ran down his spine.  The mask had an
eerie quality about it that he couldn't put a finger on.  It also
looked faintly familiar.
       He began to move and he quickly adjusted his body to counter
the sudden movement.  In due course he was drawn backstage and
found his way to the ground. 
       "Michael!"  A harsh whisper drew his attention to a young
man waiting backstage for him.  As soon as the curtain had closed,
the props began to move, some being moved by hand, others
apparently being moved automatically.  He turned to the young man
who was glaring at him.  "You forgot to shout at Sarah and Steve. 
That dappens the effect somewhat," the man admonished with
a thick English accent.
       "Uh, yes," Sam replied, "I guess I got a little wrapped up
in the music."  He shrugged.  "Sorry about that."
       "Too late for apologies now," the man replied, curtly.  He
turned abruptly and began stage whispering orders to a group of
people who were unfolding a large curved staircase from the back
wall of the stage.  Figuring it was best if he got out of the way,
Sam withdrew.
       Al was waiting, for which Sam was thankful.  He nodded
towards a dim, less crowded corner of the room and the two men met
there.  "Al," Sam hissed, "I've leaped into _The_Phantom_Of_The_
Opera_ between acts!"  He knew now why the mask had looked
familiar.  He and some friends from college had taken a weekend
trip to New York City, while he was at MIT, to see the musical
performed on Broadway.  He'd enjoyed it, although Man Of La Mancha
still held a special place in his heart. 
       "Actually," Al responded, "you've leaped into Michael
Crawford, a professional actor, famous for his portrayal of the
Phantom.  It's December 13, 1985, and you're in London."  Al's eyes
lit up and he remarked, "Hey, Sam, you're in England again!"
       "So I'd gathered," Sam said, "Look, do you know why I'm
here?  I can't perform in the second act.  I only remember bits and
pieces of it."
       "Ziggy doesn't have any ideas yet," Al replied, "but she
says there's probably a copy of the script in your dressing room." 
He gave Sam directions to the dressing room and said, "You'd better
take a look at the script and give the performance your best.  I'll
go back and see what Ziggy can come up with and meet you after the
show.  Better hurry, though.  Curtain's in thirteen minutes, and
you've got a tricky costume change to do, too.  You've got to go to
the Masquerade as the Red Death."  He opened the Imaging Chamber
door and departed.  Sam hurried to his dressing room.
              _______________________________________________
       "It's over now, the music of the night!"
       Sam sang the final notes, doing his best to emote properly. 
He'd been an actor a few times before, and, fortunately, had picked
up a few tricks along the way.  One of which had, with the help
of what he could remember of the play, enabled him to memorize
enough of the second act to give a passable performance.  It hadn't
been anything special, but he'd managed to get through with only
a couple of flubbed or forgotten lines.
       Curtain calls were easy enough, and Sam returned to his
dressing room as quickly as possible, keeping contact with the cast
and crew at a minimum.  He couldn't embarass himself by doing
something out of character if he didn't interact with anyone. 
Safely in his room, he sat before the mirror and began to remove
the ghastly white makeup from his face.  The man in the mirror
was solid without being fat, balding and had a broad mustache.  On
the whole he was handsome enough. 
       As he was removing the last traces of makeup, there was a
knock at the door and he crossed to answer it.  Two young women
stood outside, giggling slightly, seeming to vibrate with energy. 
One of them, Sam noticed with more than a little surprise, was
Miriam.
       Mistaking his shocked silence for distrust or displeasure,
Miriam spoke up.  "I hope you'll forgive us for barging in on you
like this, Mr. Crawford," she said, her voice trembling slightly,
"but we just had to tell you what a wonderful job you did tonight." 
Perhaps it was Sam's own lingering doubt, but the sentiment didn't
sound entirely sincere.  Not that Sam could blame her;  she
probably wouldn't get far telling him he gave a mediocre
performance.  As if realizing her words lacked sincerity, she held
out a single red rose.  Sam had no choice but to accept it.
       "Thank you very much," he said, "I, uh, would you like to
come in for a moment?"
       The two women exchanged surprised glances and stepped
quickly through the door as if the offer might be rescinded if they
hesitated.  Miriam, again taking the lead, said, "My name's Miriam
Ferziger.  This is a friend of mine, Colleen McAllister." 
       Sam shook hands with both of them and exchanged greetings. 
"So, what are you doing in London?" Sam asked, looking at Miriam
and hoping he didn't sound more interested than he should.  He
added, hurriedly, "I mean, from your accent, I'd guess you were an
American."  In truth, his mind was reeling.  For a third time, he
was in Miriam's presence.  For a third time, he had an opportunity,
albeit a limited one, to save Miriam's life.
       "Colleen lives here," Miriam responded, gesturing to her
comrade who had so far been fairly quiet.  "We're going to school
together.  I'm studying here for a couple of terms.  It's a program
set up between the school here, and the University of Oregon, where
I've been going."
       "I see," Sam said, nodding.  The response hadn't given him
any real information he could use to figure out why he was here. 
He was certain, though, that it had something to do with Miriam. 
Twice now he'd made changes for the better in her life, and he
doubted it was a coincidence that they were meeting again.  He
hoped that this time he could improve her life enough in a way that
allowed her to extend it as well.  Still, it was over seven years
before her death;  it seemed unlikely any warning he tried to give
her now would be remembered or heeded after such a duration had
passed.
       "Actually, we were wondering if we could get your
autograph," Colleen spoke at last.  Her voice had an accent that
fell somewhere between Irish and English, but Sam couldn't quite
identify it.  The young red-haired woman held out a pair of
autograph books.  She'd apparently held onto them while Miriam had
the honor of presenting him with the red rose which he still held. 
Sam glanced around the room, and finally laid the rose delicately
on his dressing table.
       He turned back to the women and accepted the proffered
books, signing them with a flourish.  He considered signing
Miriam's with his own name instead of Michael Crawford's, but
realized that, even if she did make a connection between his name
and the Sam Beckett she would know on a television series a few
years in the future, the significance would be lost on her. 
Besides, if she were to look at the autograph now, she'd ask about
the name, and that could lead to difficulties Sam prefered to
avoid.  He was confident that sooner or later, he'd find a way to
warn her away from her fate.
       As he handed the second book to Miriam, he heard the Imaging
Chamber door grind open behind him, hesitate and grind closed
again.  "Two women in your dressing room?" Al's voice asked in mock
surprise.  "Sam, you dirty dog!"
       "Would you two excuse me for a moment?" Sam asked, "I need
to change out of my costume."
       "Of course," Miriam said, "We didn't mean to intrude.  We
know you're probably swamped with fans.  You've been very kind.  It
was nice meeting you."  Colleen echoed the sentiment faintly.
       "It was nice to meet you, too," Sam replied.  "Uh,
maybe...would the two of you like to go to dinner tonight?"  He
knew the offer had come out of left field and could even be
considered suspicious, but he didn't want to let Miriam out of his
sight, not when she was so close, so alive.
       Miriam and Colleen exchanged surprised glances again.  "Are
you serious?" Miriam breathed, wide-eyed.
       "Very."
       "We'd love it," Colleen blurted, evidently as surprised by
her own words as the other two.  The three of them laughed for a
moment and the ladies agreed to wait in the hall while Sam
changed.
       Closing the door behind them, Sam turned to Al and demanded,
"I'm here for Miriam again, aren't I?"
       "Well," Al replied, hesitantly, "yes and no."
       "What do you mean?" Sam asked.
       "In six hours, you're going to be killed," Al said.  He
spoke slowly, deliberately, letting the information sink in, with
all its horrible implications.  "Miriam is the prime suspect; 
Colleen even gives a statement against her.  The charges are
eventually dropped for lack of evidence, but Miriam leaves London
before finishing her terms here.  She drops out of school and ends
up flipping burgers in downtown Eugene."
       "Eugene?" Sam asked, "Eugene, Oregon?  I thought she lived
in California."
       "She does.  I mean, she did.  That is, she would have.  But
things are changing, Sam.  Now she never meets any of the people on
the Quantum Leap newsgroup;  I don't even think she watches the
show."
       "That's horrible, Al!"  Sam exclaimed, "What happened?  What
did I change?"
       "That's the thing.  We don't know.  So far, nothing
significant.  In the original history, Colleen suggested dinner,
sort of as a joke, and they were surprised when Crawford accepted. 
You just pre-empted the question.  Beyond that, everything's the
same."
       "Except Miriam's entire future," Sam responded.  He paused
and his eyes met Al's.  "Does she...?  I mean...."
       Al glanced at the handlink and replied, solemnly, "No.  In
fact she's still alive now in 2000.  Unfortunately, she's also
still flipping burgers."
       Sam sighed and slumped into a chair.  It seemed a no-win
situation.  Granted, a mediocre life was better than Miriam's
original future, but she had so much potential, Sam hated to see it
wasted because of a false accusation.  "Did they ever find out who
really killed me?  I mean, Michael Crawford?"
       "No," Al replied, "But I've got Ziggy going through all the
information available on the case."
       "So I'm here to prevent Crawford from being murdered."
       "Ziggy says if you can do that, Miriam's life should stay on
track.  She'll graduate in 1988, get a secretarial position at
Stanford, win a fashion show in 1992...."
       "And die in 1993," Sam concluded, understanding Al's
hesitation.  "It's a start, I suppose.  The way things are going,
I may still be able to save her after that."
       "I hope so, Sam," Al replied.
                           _________________________________
       A few minutes later, Sam joined the women and they made
their way to a reasonably priced restaurant.  At one point, an
adoring fan rushed up to Sam to get an autograph.  Sam, already on
edge, had seen the man charging him and assumed a defensive posture
which brought the fan up short, until Sam realized the man's
innocent intentions.  He laughed nervously, "Sorry about that. 
You startled me."  He acceptd the proffered autograph book and
asked, "Who should I make this out to?"
       "My name's Andrew, sir," the man responded, "Andrew Dawson."
       Sam signed the autograph, apologized again for startling the
man and he and the ladies continued towards the restaurant.
       Al had suggested cancelling dinner with the two women, but
Sam refused to believe that would be effective.  In retrospect,
he'd probably done it because, if avoiding the dinner saved his
life, that would mean his would-be killer was one of the two women
and that he couldn't accept.  He was determined to see things out
to the bitter end.  Well, maybe not that far.
       At the restaurant, there was a brief wait.  Colleen,
appearing distracted, excused herself and Miriam and Sam stood
waiting patiently.  Sam knew he could probably get a table by
letting the maitre'd know he was a famous stage actor, but he
decided against it.  Indeed, the maitre'd may not have recognized
the name.  He certainly didn't recognize the face, Sam realized,
when the man approached and asked, "Pardon me, sir.  Are you Mr.
and Mrs. Trevor Jenkins?"
       Before Sam could answer, a tall man stepped forward and
said, "I believe that would be me."  He smiled and reached out to
take the hand of the woman beside him and added, "And my wife,
of course."
       "Ah, quite so," the maitre'd agreed smoothly, "Your table is
ready.  If you will follow me..."  He led the couple to their
table.
       Colleen rejoined them at the table and the conversation was
stilted at first, Sam's two fans seeming nervouse and speechless,
unable to believe their luck in dining with a famous actor.  Sam
did what he could to keep the conversation casual and, gradually,
the two women relaxed, becoming more talkative.  Sam probed gently,
trying to find out more about them, particularly Miriam.  As
it was, Miriam appeared more willing to talk about herself than
Colleen.  It wasn't that Miriam was self-centered;  rather, Colleen
was more willing to talk about anything other than herself.  That
suited Sam fine, though.  He was more interested in finding a way
to help Miriam. 
       "I did some theatre work in high school and a little more in
college," Miriam was saying.  "Mostly I work with costuming, but
I've done some singing and acting, too.  My first performance
was in Gilbert & Sullivan's Iolanthe, put on by Stanford Savoyard. 
I was thirteen."  She beamed proudly, adding by way of explanation,
"My parents have been Gilbert & Sullivan fans since they went to
college together at the University of Michigan.  I'd really like to
get a major role, though.  I think I can handle the spotlight." 
She smiled fetchingly.
       "But could the spotlight handle you?" Sam replied, returning
the smile.
       "I hope so," Miriam responded, adding tentatively, "I was
hoping you could give me a few pointers."
       They talked shop for a few minutes, with Sam relating
anything he could remember about his experiences as actors in an
effort to give her some valuable information.  It felt like a
paltry amount of advice, but Miriam accepted it eagerly, assuring
him that, upon her return to the States, she was going to audition
again with Stanford Savoyard, who specialized in Gilbert & Sullivan
plays, and that she'd let him know how things worked out.
       Abruptly, Miriam shuddered.  It was an odd shudder, though,
as though every molecule in her body had begun to vibrate rapidly. 
She seemed almost to blur as Sam stared at her in surprise.  As
abruptly as it had happened, it stopped and she looked normal
again, except for the hunted expression on her face.  The vibration
had been so rapid that Sam began to doubt almost immediately that
he'd seen it.
       "Are you alright, Miriam?" he asked, looking into her eyes
with concern.  They were a cool blue as she looked at him and
stared. 
       "I-I'm fine, uh, Mr. Crawford, thank you," she responded. 
Sam had asked the women to call him Michael, which Miriam had been
doing up until now.  He wondered what he'd said that had so
suddenly worried her.  Before he could probe deeper, though, Miriam
stood up and said, "Will excuse me for a moment.  I need to visit
the ladies room."  Without waiting for a response, she beat a
hasty, uncertain retreat.
       Sam watched her go, uncertainly.  Her behavior was certainly
odd and he knew he'd never seen anything like that vibration that
had rippled through her body, but it didn't appear to be cause
for alarm.  What did concern him was Miriam's eyes.  They had been
the color of slate at the beginning of the meal, he was sure of it. 
Why were they suddenly a pale blue?
           _____________________________________________
       The nightmare never seemed to end.  As soon as she put out
one fire, prevented one horrible occurence, she was whisked away to
right another wrong, another tragedy that she herself had caused. 
In a way, it made sense.  It was a much fairer punishment than she
deserved, especially considering some of the atrocities she'd
induced.  There were many more to go, she knew, and she tried not
to think of where she would end up when it was all over.  Better,
she decided, to focus on the here and now.  And the who.
       Alia looked at her latest host in the mirror.  Straight
brown hair that fell around her shoulders in an attractive wave, a
slender nose and dark blue-grey eyes which seemed almost purple
in the lights of the ladies room.  She opened her purse and took
out a wallet, searching for some identification.  A California
driver's license identified her as Miriam Ferziger, a nineteen year
old Caucasian female.  She glanced through the wallet, hungry for
any scrap of information that would help her.  Fortunately, though,
she already knew enough to get her started.
       While under Lothos' control, she'd been leaped from life to
life, leaving a wake of destruction behind her.  She'd almost
enjoyed it at first.  After what she'd endured prior to her life
of leaping, she felt justified in causing others to suffer.  But
the pleasure had soon paled, and with each leap, she began to
regret more and more her decision to help Lothos and Zoey.  By the
time she decided she wanted out, it was too late.  Lothos had no
intention of setting her free.
       Then she'd encountered Sam Beckett.  Before then she'd never
realized there might be others like her, traveling through time,
out of control.  He was a good man and she liked him.  She was
drawn to him from the moment she learned his true identity, and she
was able to take some comfort in knowing that, although she was
being forced to make lives miserable, there was someone out there
who was improving the world, making changes for the better.  She
envied Sam.  Whoever was leaping him around certainly cared more
for Sam than Lothos did for Alia.  When Lothos had decreed that Sam
was to die, Alia finally balked.  She knew there would be severe
penalties for her failure to complete an assignment, but it didn't
matter.  In the end, the choice was hers.  Lothos may be evil, but
she wasn't.  She didn't have it in her heart anymore.  She let Sam
escape, and there was literally Hell to pay.
       She and Zoey had been made to suffer fates which would have
resulted in the deaths of others tenfold.  But Lothos knew how to
keep them alive in spite of the tortures.  After all, what good was
torture, if the victim was allowed to escape it by dying?  After an
eternity or two, Lothos decided that the two women were ready to
return to duty, rejoining the ranks of those who put wrong what
once went right.  And, for a time, Alia played along, destroying
more lives out of fear of punishment.
       Until she'd encountered Sam again.  It had been a complete
coincidence, catching even Lothos off guard.  Sam persuaded her to
try to escape Lothos' grasp, and, in spite of her fear, she trusted
him.  If anyone could save her, it was Sam.  They were able to leap
together, and she was seperated from Lothos' project.  Zoey had
attempted to follow her, tracking her back to 1987, but in the end,
Alia had been rescued by whatever force was leaping Sam. 
       Since then, she'd been leaping, independent of Lothos and
Zoey.  She knew Sam had a holographic partner, much like Zoey, who
gave him information about his situation.  Alia no longer needed
that help.  The situations she'd begun leaping into since her
liberation were all familiar.  They were situations she'd already
been in, while under Lothos' control, in which she'd destroyed
someone's life and caused tragedies.  Evidently, her freedom was
not without a price.  She was being required to undo all the wrongs
she'd committed.  And there had been enough of them to go around.
       She remembered the death of Michael Crawford, and the
impending framing of Miriam Ferziger.  It wasn't a pleasant memory. 
This mission had been early in her days with Lothos, when she still
felt vindicated in causing harm to others.  It would be difficult
to undo this one.  Details, such as the date, were fuzzy, but they
didn't matter.  The long and short of it was that, during the
second act of a London performance of The Phantom Of The Opera,
she'd leaped into Colleen McAllister, a college student.  After the
show, she'd boldly invited the star of the play to dinner with her
and Miriam and, caught off-guard, he'd accepted.
       After dinner, in Miriam's absence, she shot Michael Crawford
and, when the police came for a statement, she explained in no
uncertain terms that Miriam had murdered the man in cold blood.
                   ______________________________________________
       The waiter placed the check discreetly at Michael's elbow
and removed the empty plates from the table.  As Alia reached for
her purse, Michael held up a hand and said, "My treat."
       Alia thanked him demurely.  A sound to one side of the table
attracted her attention and her eyes darted to the source.  Zoey
had appeared, to inform Colleen - Alia referred to the other woman
as Colleen, since it helped seperate her from the evil she'd done
- of her mission.  Alia was thankful that whatever force was now
leaping her around was preventing Lothos from being able to
identify her in her new persona.  Zoey explained coolly that Alia
needed to get Michael to the girls' apartment in a bad section of
London.  The women kept a gun there for the sole purpose of
protection, and it would suffice for the murder of Michael
Crawford.
       Colleen leaned forward, exposing more of her cleavage than
was necessary.  Alia looked away, a bad taste in her mouth.  "Would
it be too much to ask, Michael, if you escorted us home?  It's a
rather bad section of town, and I for one would feel safer if we
had a big strong man to protect us."
       "I'd be glad to see you home safely," Michael replied,
averting his gaze from the proffered view, and glancing over his
shoulder darkly for a moment.
       "That's really not necessary," Alia said, "We know the route
and the people.  I'm sure we'll be fine.  I don't want to put you
out anymore.  You've already been too kind."
       Colleen and Zoey glanced at her coldly.  Michael glanced
over his shoulder again and responded, "Really, Miriam, it's no
trouble.  It would put my mind at ease knowing that the two of
you got home safely."
       "And they say chivalry's dead," Colleen remarked, smiling at
Michael.
       "It will be, soon enough," Zoey said, laughing callously. 
Her handlink squealed and she studied the triple-layered display. 
"Hmmm.  This is odd;  Lothos is picking up some anomalous
resonance.  We'd better talk.  Meet me in the ladies room."  She
pressed a few buttons and disappeared.
       "Will you excuse me for a moment?" Colleen asked, "I just
want to freshen up before we leave." She stood, winked at Michael
and walked away.
       Alia seized her chance.  She leaned across the table and
implored, "Mr. Crawford, you can't come with us.  She's going to
kill you...." Her voice trailed off as she grasped Michael's
forearm to emphasize her point.  It felt as though she'd grabbed a
live wire.  Her body seemed to be wracked with electrical energy
and, for a moment, she thought she was about to leap.  She locked
frightened and confused eyes with the man in front of her.  And
gasped.
       The man in front of her was Sam Beckett.
                   _____________________________________
       After their initial shock at encountering each other again,
Alia quickly explained her situation to Sam, who agreed readily to
help prevent Alia, in the guise of Colleen from murdering him. 
"Like it or not," he pointed out, "I've got to help you.  Otherwise
it will be me she kills."  They began to form a plan of attack, but
Colleen's return interrupted them before anything concrete had
been decided.
       "Shall we go?" Colleen asked, standing by her chair and
picking up her coat.  Sam didn't like the glint in her eye.
       "Uh, yes," Sam agreed, "Let me just pay the check."  The
waiter appeared, took Sam's money and disappeared unobtrusively. 
       They returned to the apartment without incident, Sam and
Alia attempting to keep up their end of the conversation, in hopes
that Colleen wouldn't realize they were on to her.  Alia had
doubts, though.  She couldn't remember having a conversation with
Zoey in the ladies room of the restaurant, and suspected that the
presence of both herself, doubled, and Sam had been enough to
alert Lothos to something unusual, something which hadn't happened
her first time through this series of events.  Unfortunately, that
meant anything could happen.
       Indeed, once esconced in the rundown apartment in one of
London's bad neighborhoods, Colleen bolted the door quite
deliberately and turned to face Sam and Alia.  "It seems," she
said, "that someone here isn't what they claim to be.  I intend to
get to the bottom of this."  Before Sam or Alia could react,
Colleen stepped forward and grasped Sam's wrist in one hand and
Alia's in the other.
       A wave of electricity washed over the three of them and
abruptly, Alia was staring into the eyes of her former self, eyes
which sent a chill down her spine.  Sam wrenched himself free and
assumed a defensive position.  Alia guessed it to be some sort of
martial art stance, and hoped he knew what he was doing.
       "Don't even think about it," Colleen responded.  Even though
Alia could now see her former self for who she really was, it was
still easier to seperate herself from that fact by referring to her
as Colleen.  "Make any move on me and I'll break her neck before
you can do a thing to stop me."  As she spoke, she wrapped an elbow
around Alia's throat and pinning Alia's head back with her other
forearm.
       Zoey appeared, stepping through the holographic portal and
smiled wickedly at the sight.  "Delicious," she breathed.  She
stepped forward and looked Alia straight in the eye.  "I don't know
what's going to happen in the future to cause you to end up back
here making trouble," she hissed, "But I can guess.  You always
were weak.  You think you've suffered before?  You ain't seen
nothing yet, babe."  She laughed and it sounded like a witch's
cackle.
       "Zoey, stop fooling around," Colleen snapped, "Who the Hell
is he?"
       "You don't know me?" Sam asked, surprised.  He maintained
his defensive posture but didn't act.  "We've met before, in 1966. 
And 1956.  And 1987.  Alia, I rescued you from Lothos, gave you
back your freedom.  Don't you recognize me?"
       "I've never seen you before in my life," Colleen replied
sharply, "Evidently my leaps are in a different order than yours."
       "Evidently," Zoey murmured, giving Alia an icy glance.
       "He's right," Alia said, risking the use of her limited air
supply.  "He can help you.  Listen to him.  He can free you from
Lothos' power.  I should know.  He already has.  Otherwise I
wouldn't be here."
       Colleen had been dragging Alia towards a desk as she spoke
and now released Alia's forehead long enough to rummage in a
drawer.  A moment later, she pulled out a .22 and cocked it.  It
was small, as guns go, but could still make a good-sized hole in a
person's body.
       "It's not going to do you any good to kill me, Alia," Sam
said softly.  He took a single, careful step towards the women. 
"I've already saved you.  Right now, you may not think you want
to be saved.  You might even enjoy what you're doing, who knows. 
But sooner or later, Lothos is going to turn on you, and you're
going to want a way out.  I'm going to give you that way out, even
if you kill me now.  It's in my past, and killing me now won't stop
it.  You're too late."
       "Maybe," Colleen replied, "But I can keep you from
interfering any further."  She aimed the gun at Sam, ready to pull
the trigger.  Sam swallowed involuntarily but stood his ground. 
For a brief second, his eyes flickered to meet Alia's.
       Alia struggled.  Technically, she should have been an even
match for Colleen, for obvious reasons.  But Colleen had the added
power of anger and evil behind her, preventing Alia from breaking
free.  It didn't prevent Alia from throwing Colleen off her
balance, though.  As the gun fired, Alia twisted desperately and
the bullet went wide.
       Sam darted forward and tackled the two women, wrestling them
to the ground.  The gun was knocked lose and flew free.  Colleen's
grasp on Alia was loosened enough that she was able to pull free. 
While Sam wrestled with Colleen, Alia dove for the gun.  She
staggered to her feet, pointed the gun at the two on the floor and
said, "Get up, Sam!  I've got her covered."
       Sam took half a glance at Alia, all he could afford under
the circumstances, and pulled away.  Colleen skittered backwards,
crab-like, staring at the barrel of the gun, a hint of fear coming
into her eyes.  After a moment, she relaxed, though, and smiled
slowly.  "Go ahead," she hissed, "Kill me.  You'll just be killing
yourself, you know.  If I die, so do you.  Plain and simple.  It's
your choice." She stood up casually and took a step towards Alia.
       "Stop," Alia said, warningly, her voice quivering.
       Colleen took another step towards Alia.
       The gun exploded in Alia's hands and a bullet shot forward. 
Colleen crumpled to the ground.  Alia dropped the gun and she and
Sam scurried to Colleen's side.
       It was an odd feeling looking down at herself, unconscious
and bleeding, but Alia steeled herself.  Hesitantly, she reached
out and touched the woman's face, as Sam checked for a pulse.
       The two exchanged glances.  "She's alive," Sam announced,
his voice a mixture of relief and regret, "But barely."
       "She'll recover," Alia responded grimly, unbuttoning the top
two buttons of her shirt and pulling it away to reveal her left
shoulder.  There was a faint round scar marring the flesh, a scar
which hadn't been there when this leap had started.  She buttoned
her shirt again and met Sam's eyes. "I'm afraid this won't be the
last you see of her."
       Zoey crouched beside Colleen and stared into Alia's eyes. 
"You'd better believe it.  You haven't seen the last of her."
       A reddish glow enveloped the unconscious Alia and exploded
outward.  When it cleared, Colleen was laying before them,
concious, confused and afraid.  Her breathing slowed and her eyes
darted from Alia to Sam and back again.  "Miriam?" she asked,
regaining her bearings.  "What happened?" 
       Sam and Alia helped the woman to her feet.  "You fainted,"
Alia explained smoothly, "It must be all the excitement of having
a famous theatre star in your midst."
       Colleen looked at Sam again and her eyes widened.  "Michael
Crawford?  In our apartment?"  She looked back at Alia and asked,
"What's going on?"
       Alia smiled gently and said, "I'll explain it all, later. 
I think you'd better lay down."  Sam nodded agreement, and, dazed,
Colleen suffered herself to be led to her room.
       Once alone again, Sam and Alia faced each other.  "Now
what?" Sam asked.
       "I guess I'm off to fix another one of my mistakes," Alia
replied.  Mistakes was putting it mildly.
       "Are you going to be alright?" Sam asked, concerned,
"Leaping's a difficult business, I know.  It's got to be even
tougher alone."
       "I'm not completely alone," Alia replied, thinking of her
first leap without Lothos' control.  That had been one she was
still trying to interpret.
       "But I mean, no observer, no project...."  Sam's voice
trailed off and he cocked his head curiously.  "When I leap, the
person I replace goes to the Waiting Room back at Project Quantum
Leap.  Now that you're independent, what happens to the people that
you replace?"  His tone took on one of more than mild concern. 
"Alia, where's Miriam?"
       "I'm not sure," Alia responded.  "But, I think..."  She
smiled weakly and said, "This is going to sound a bit weird.  See,
after I was released from Lothos' power, I leaped to this bar.  And
I met a man who seemed to know me."  She gave a short laugh and
said, "He seemed to know everything."  She met Sam's startled gaze
and said, "I suppose that sounds more than a little weird, doesn't
it?  Anyway, I think the people I leap into go to this bar while I
replace them."
       "A bar?" Sam breathed, "It wasn't in a coal-mining town in
Pennsylvania, was it?"
       It was Alia's turn to look surprised.  "As a matter of fact,
I think it was."
       Sam exchanged a glance with thin air and looked back at her. 
"Alia, are you telling me that Miriam...is at Al's Place?"
       Before she could answer, Sam was enveloped by a blue light
and electricity seemed to pass through his body.  Even as the light
exploded outward and abruptly contracted, signalling Michael
Crawford's return, a second glow enveloped Alia as she leaped....