From: kitkin@aol.com (Kitkin)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative
Subject: WHATEVER IT TAKES 7/9
Date: 10 Jun 1996 22:21:51 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Message-Id: <4pil7v$55p@newsbf02.news.aol.com>

WHATEVER IT TAKES PART 7

   "He went back and changed it so Beth waited for me, didn't
he?" He paused with that expression of remembering back to
something, then continued, "Like before, when he leaped into
that undercover cop. I tried to get him to make it happen back
then," he said with a tinge of guilt to his voice.  "....but,....but he
couldn't."
    The bartender was listening compasionately, as Al continued.
"So what you're saying, is that Sam chose to make THAT leap
INSTEAD of coming home." The bartender nodded, and said
softly,"No greater gift has man than this, that he lay down his life
for a friend."
"Lay down his life?" Al asked with a stricken look in his eyes.
   Putting up his hands in a gesture of quelling Al's worst fear,
the bartender broke into a smile and said,  "No, I didn't mean his
physical life Al, ...more like his life as he knew it back home."
Al closed his eyes and sank visibly against the bar with a loud
sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God." he said, and then quickly looked
at the bartender with an uncomfortable smile.
"So, if everything is jake with me and Beth, then why didn't he
just come home after that?"
   The bartender thought a minute, then said,  "When Sam
decided to make that change for you and Beth, he saw it as a
sacrifice that he was willing to make for you."
"Sacrifice? I don't follow." Al said shaking his head.
"Well," the bartender said, pulling at his chin as if in deep
thought."I think Sam figured that if Beth were there for you when
you were repatriated, that you'd both live happily ever after, and
your life would take a completely different course.
  " Al listened with growing interest, as the bartender explained
further. "You would no longer have been the bitter Ensign
Calavicci, who stayed in the navy because he didn't care what
happened to him anymore, and so, you wouldn't have gone on to
become the highly respected and decorated Admiral Calavicci---
retired, who  ..."
   Al picked up the drift of where this bit of logic was headed, and
finished," Who..., with all his clout, made the funding possible for
all those expensive projects, like Star Bright." Here, he checked
his theory with the bartender who was solemly nodding his
consensus, then continued, "So, no clout, no working at Star
Bright, no out of control drunk beating up a vending machine,
drawing attention from  'Good Samaritan', Sam Beckett. So, now
we don't meet, no funding for project Quantum Leap,
and......BOOM! NO PROJECT TO COME HOME TO!"
Getting up to tend to the customer who was now holding up his
empty glass, the bartender paused in front of Al, "I'd say give
that man a cigar, but you've already got one."
    When the bartender returned, Al said,"Now, let me get this
straight. Sam hasn't come home, because he thinks that by
changing up the events that originally led up to the two of us
meeting, he created some sort of paradox, where he figures he's
trapped himself in time?"
"Essentially." the bartender concurred with a slow nod.
    "So, if there's no more Project Quantum Leap, then what
would have become of Sam?"
The bartender  gave a slight shrug, and then commented,"I think
to Sam, he would just physically wink out of existense and
memory back there, and simply begin a new life of leaping for all
eternity."
    Al's face fell into an expression of despair, "Aw Sam", he said
out loud,as if his best friend were the one sitting next to him, "it
didn't turn out that way at all." he finished, and then looked
hopelessly at the bartender.
"No, that's true." The bartender stated. "You continued to make
the Navy a career, the two of you still met, and the Project was
still built. Destiny can be funny that way"
    With his elbows propped on the bar, Al ran his hands wearily
through his hair, and let his forehead come to rest on his palms.
"He just should've come home when he had the chance."
After a minute, the bartender said,  "Even if things didn't turn out
the way Sam thought they would, at least he did get Beth to wait
for you." Looking ashamed, Al now said something he thought
would never have occured to him to say,
  " I wish he hadn't. HE just should've come home, and lived
happily ever after with Donna."
 "But what about you and Beth?" the bartender asked."Aren't
YOU happy now?" Al now sat upright,and stated, "No, as a
matter of fact, I'm not. I SHOULD be, I love her; I've always
loved her. We even have kids! But....," He paused and his
expression became one of hopelessness. "for some reason,
something went a little ca-ca when Sam made that leap. Beth is
with me all right, but  I don't have any memories of our life
together."   Not wanting to wallow any further, he pulled up out of
his own pit of dispair, and turned his thoughts to someone else.
"Then, there's Donna. She's still waiting for Sam to come back.
All she has is this HALF-Sam, and THAT'S dying! And...and.."
  Al motioned wildly, his hands making small circular movements.
"And?" the bartender prodded.
"And,....I just don't think Sam would have meant for it to turn out
this way is all." Al said and then made a gesture sort of like an
umpire declaring the runner 'safe'. It seemed to say,"There it is,
all laid out "
   "You sure that's all?" the bartender asked. The question
caught Al off guard momentarily, and he struck a wide-eyed
pondering expression. When Al had been in the orphanage as a
child, he had a teacher, Sister Margarite. When ever he had
done something bad, but not been caught at it, she had a way of
asking him if there was anything he wanted to tell her, about the
incident. He always got the feeling that she already knew about
it, but just wanted to hear it from his own lips.And although he
never would have ratted on a friend, when he himself was the
perpetrator,  he always ended up telling her.
   Feeling now the same way he had back with Sister Margarite,
and suspecting that the bartender too already knew the answer,
Al added with a sigh, "I told Sam the last time I saw him, that
what ever it took, I'd get him out of this."
   "Well,"  said the bartender with a warm smile,  "It sounds to
me like there's a wrong that needs to be put right." Al started to
question the comment, but began to feel a strange tingling
sensation all around him. The last thing he saw, before he
leaped was the bartender's smiling face.
 .........................................................................
............
                               September  1968

   "Don't say a thing to him Jennifer, he just wants money so he
can buy some cheap wine or dope." The woman with the green
coat said to her daughter. "But mom, he really looks hungry, and
it's only a dollar." Jennifer countered, as she came up to Sam
and put the money in the hat he held out in front of him. As the
woman in green pulled Jennifer away, and up the street,
scolding her as they went, Sam looked down at the hat. Besides
the dollar, there appeared to be about 65 cents in assorted
coins. "Oh boy," Sam whispered with a touch of disgust,"I'm a
bum."
  He gathered up the money, and slipped it into his pocket."At
least I won't be a penniless bum." he thought as he walked down
the alley. Just as had been told to him, the leaps had indeed
become harder. Not because he had to try and figure out what to
do all by himself now, from what he could remember, there had
been times before when he had had to do just that. Deciding
who he was supposed to help presented a challenge sometimes,
but some how, he always managed to piece it together. He
glanced skyward with a smile, and was more than just a little
convinced that it wasn't simply his keen deductive powers at
work, he knew he wasn't in this alone.
   But loneliness is what Sam felt most of the time, and THAT'S
what made it harder for him. If he  saw a man from behind, who
was dressed kind of out of the ordinary, he found himself
checking them out,  just to make sure. Once, he had even gone
into a tobacco shop just to smell the cigars, but left fairly quickly
when he remembered that he didn't much care for the smell of
them. No, it wasn't the cigars or the clothes or even the
flamboyant tales of conquest that he missed, it was just Al.
    Reading a discarded newspaper as he continued down the
alley, Sam read, "The San Fransisco Herald, 1968. Well, that
takes care of where and when." He started to page through the
paper, and suddenly stopped as he remembered."1968? Oh my
gosh! Senator Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King will
both be assasinated! I can telephone the FB...." In mid thought,
Sam flipped back to the front page."September,...Damn it! So
much for either of those wrongs being put right." he said in angry
frustration, as he let the newspaper fall from his hands.
   Emerging from the alley, Sam made his way up the street,
trying his best not to look like a pan-handler. About half way up
the block, he saw a rotating neon sign that read, "BUS". As he
headed toward the brick building, it occured to Sam that being a
homeless person had it's obvious drawbacks, one of which was
finding a public facility when nature called. He stood in front of
the bus station, debating whether or not to go inside and use
their restroom.
    As he weighed his options, he watched the people getting off
the bus that had just pulled into the unloading zone. One in
particular caught his attention. She was pretty, dressed in jeans
and one of those gauzey peasant shirts with the embroidered
sleeves and neck. Sam remembered Katie having one like it
once. He saw too that she was very young, probably 14 at the
most. Her eyes were wary of everyone, and Sam could see how
out of place she looked here."Probably the way I look most of
the time." he thought to himself. He also noticed that besides a
denim jacket decorated with studs, she carried only a purse with
her, sort of a large leather pouch really, slung over her shoulder,
and no luggage. She had all the ear marks of being a runaway,
Sam thought, and he watched as she made her way into the
terminal.
    Unfortunately, Sam was not the only one watching the girl.
Rick Waters also had his eye on her, as she headed for the
ladies room. He was medium height, with greasy blonde hair
pulled back in a ponytail. He always dressed in cheap flashy
shirts that he wore tucked into the skinny waistband of his
equally cheap polyester bellbottoms. Snakeskin cowboy boots
and a cowboy hat completed his fashion statement."Now ain't
that jus' the bes' lookin' piece you seen today." he crooned to
himself."Bet she's lonely too. Well, ol' Rick the Slick'll take care
of you." He moved to a bench closer to the hallway where the
bathrooms were, to wait for his prey.
     Sam hadn't noticed the thin blonde man in the ugly clothes,
but he had seen where the young girl had gone. He decided that
it would be a good idea to keep a watchful eye open. He tried to
wait in the little hallway, but he noticed that several of the bus
terminal's personel were keeping a watchful eye on him too. "Of
all the times NOT to leap into a woman,"  he thought to himself.
"at least then, I could go right in there with her." Sam finally
broke down and went in the mens' room, not only to keep from
causing any further suspicions, but his immediate needs were
becoming pressing.
...................CONTINUED IN PART 8................................