From: HILLEMANN@macalstr.edu (Beth Hillemann) To: alt-tv-quantum-leap-creative@cisco.com Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: "Partners" (part 1) Date: Tue, 4 Apr 1995 11:15:57 Organization: Macalester College Message-Id: "Partners" By Beth Hillemann (Note: I imagine this taking place between the first and second seasons of "Quantum Leap". And, for those of you who are interested, between the second and third seasons of "Starsky and Hutch".) _If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than it was because he was he and I was I_ --Michel Eyquem Montaigne _Essays_, "On Friendship" Part I: Day One As the effect of quantum leaping faded from his senses Sam found himself standing in front of a desk. Seated at the desk was a large black man with a fierce expression on his face. "Well?" the man asked, "What do you say?" Sam looked around the ofice in bewilderment, trying to gain some clue to help him answer. "Uhh...about what?" he said hesitantly. The man at the desk sighed irritably. "Are you willing to partner up with Detective Hutchinson in these circumstances?" Under his breath Sam muttered, "Oh, boy." He smiled weakly at the man and opened his mouth to begin stalling when another, very welcome voice, interrupted. "Say yes, Sam." "Yes," Sam said immediately. The man behind the desk relaxed and smiled approvingly. Sam glanced around and found Al walking toward him, fingers busy on the handlink. Al looked up at him briefly, then returned his attention to the handlink. "Good," the black man said. I know it won't be easy, but Hutchinson is a good detective. He just needs some time to adjust." He gazed at nothing for a moment, his expression unreadable to Sam, then shook himself slightly and stood up, saying, "I'll call him in." As he passed Sam he added: "And don't pay attention to his reaction. I haven't told him I'm assigning him a partner." Sam rolled his eyes at Al, his expression clearly asking for some explanations. Al took the cigar out of his mouth and quickly informed him, "You're name is Michael Jennings. You're a police detective newly assigned here. We're in L.A.; 1977. That's Captain Dobey. Just play along, Sam." Captain Dobey opened the door and called out or Hutchinson, then returned to stand by Sam. They waited silently until another man came into the office. Detective Sergeant Hutchinson was tall, blonde, and blue-eyed. He was dressed neatly in brown slacks with a black sweater, but Sam, looking at his too-pale face, knew who he was here to help. A gun hung by Hutchinson's side, in a shoulder holster. Hutchinson glanced at Sam indifferently, then looked at Captain Dobey. "Hutch," Captain Dobey beggan, his voice muted, "I'd like you to meet Mike Jennings." He indicated Sam. "How do you do?" Sam said, smiling tentatively. Hutchinson nodded at him, but kept his attention focused on Dobey. "He's your new partner," Dobey stated. The expressions that crossed Hutchinson's face transmuted so quickly that they barely registered with Sam. He thought he saw pain, grief, anger, then the face sealed itself away from the world and Hutchinson, in a quiet voice, said, "We've been over this--I don't want a partner. I work alone." Dobey reacted right away, almost before the words were out of Hutch, as if hee had expected them. "No, you don't work alone. Not if you want to stay in this department. Everyone has a partner, not excepting you. And after that last escapade..." Hutch interrupted, "Nothing happened, Captain." "You could have died," Captain Dobey said flatly. Hutch looked like he was about to interrupt again, but Dobey quelled him with a look, then said more softly. "Hutch, you're the best detective I have and I'm not going to lose you, too." The two men locked gazes, still arguing, but silently. Then Hutch looked away and down. Sam, watching Dobey, saw a look of great empathy pass over that fierce face, but the expression was gone by the time the detective looked up again. Hutchinson looked from Dobey to Sam, then shrugged and nodded in one economical motion. Dobey softened, and sighed. "It's been three weeks..." "All right," Hutch snapped at Dobey. "I said all right." "Fine," Captain Dobey said, his expression rigid again. "Look, why don't you show Mike his desk. Then come back and see me while he's getting settled." Hutch nodded, his face shuttered. He gestured for Sam to precede him out the door. Sam looked at Al who made a shooing motion with his hands. They went out of Captain Dobey's office and into a room filled with wide, two-sided desks arrangged in rows, and both plainclothed and uniformed police officers. As Hutch led Sam to the desks, Al stepped up beside him and said, "We need to talk, Sam. Ask him where the men's room is." Hutch stopped at a desk at the end of the first row. The far side was covered with files and papers, a cup of coffee and, somewhat incongruously, a large plastic piggy bank. The near side was cleared, with only a few pens and pencils set in meticulous order on its surface. "This will be your desk," Hutch said, still not making eye contact with Sam. He pointed out the ofice supplies already present. "Anything else you need you can pick up over there," Hutch nodded in the direction of a cabinet marked supplies, then he looked back at the office door. "I have to go talk to Dobey; you'll be all right here?" "Yeah," Sam said, then saw Al signaling to him. "Uhh, actually I do have a question." Hutch looked at him inquiringly. "Can you direct me to the men's room?" A few minutes later, after checking to make sure no one else was in the restroom, Sam turned to Al and demanded. "Will you tell me what's going on here now please?" Al, despite his natty green jacket, yellow shirt and red fedora, looked harried. "Well, we don't know exactly..." he began. Sam interrupted. "You don't know? Why'd you tell me to say 'yes' then?" "Because that's what the guy in the waiting room was saying," Al retorted. He raised the handlink, ostentatiously poking at the buttons. "Now let's see if Ziggy can tell us anything else, okay?" Sam shrugged acceptance and turned to study himself in the mirror while Al conferrred with the handlink. He saw a young, dark-haired man, with brown eyes and a handsome face. He was dressed in a white shirt, with a tie, and black slacks. Al continued, reading from the handlink. "Ziggy says you're Mike Jennings and you were a nar...cot..." Al looked puzzled. "A nar...oh! A narcotics officer in Chicago. Your cover was blown and you moved out here to California. You've been assigned to Captain Dobey's division as a detective." Al beamed,, pleased to be able to give so much information. "That's fine Al," Sam congratulated him. "Why am I here?" "Oh. Well," Al returned his attention to the handlink, "Ziggy's best guess is that you're here to help Detective Kenneth Hutchinson, known as 'Hutch'. That was the guy you just met," Al added helpfully. "Thank you," Sam said, with exaggerated patience. "What happens to him?" Al studied the handlink, then looked up at Sam with a grim expression. Sam braced himself. "Zigggy says he commits suicide in three days," Al told his partner. "Suicide?" Sam repeated, shocked. "Why?" Al shook his head and shrugged. "We don't know yet. Ziggy's trying to acces the police reports to see if we can find out anything. But he gives it an 82% chance right now that you're here to keep Hutchinson from committing suicide." Sam took a deep breath, then nodded his understanding. "All right," he said. "Find out what you can, and meanwhile I'll see what I can do." He turned toward the door, noting in passing the anxious expression crossing his new persona's face. "All right," Al agreed, poking at the handlink to bring the imaging chamber door. He paused and looked back at Sam. "Hey listen," he said in a soft voice, "you take it easy out there huh? Being a cop can be kind of dangerous--especially with a partner who's suicidal." Sam's grin drove the anxious expression away. "I'll be okay," he assured Al. "You just get to work and bring me more information." ********** --End of part 1--sorry about the technical difficulties. Part 2 should arrive either later today or tomorrow. Beth Hillemann hillemann@macalstr.edu