PROLOGUE

The pain followed Sam into blue haze, clinging to him for several seconds...or was it forever?  Yet for as long as it lasted, just that fast it was then gone.  Whatever he was when he was in this place, just now he was grateful.  Here he could rest and heal and sometimes think.  It was both a comforting cocoon from the inevitable pain that each new leap presented for him to get through, as well as a prison with limitless boundaries that he could never escape.

        ‘A day off.’ The thought or notion or whatever it was seemed to suspend near him, brushing against him as he waited.  ‘Just some time to rest.’

        That thought or notion or whatever it was faded into nothing as Samuel Beckett once more recognized the familiar shift and pull in the blueness that surrounded him, which he seemed to become a part of each time a leap ended.  The speed at which he was moving slowed and the inevitable pull into the next life captured him.  He felt his body begin to take form at the same moment that his mind began to recognize sounds and smells.  They were familiar and, he realized, not threatening even though he hadn't opened his eyes yet.

        His entry into his new assignment was almost easy.  Blinking slowly, Sam opened his eyes, squinted against the dappled sunlight that was playing peek-a-boo through the rustling treetop above his head.  Then he looked around.

        The sun was shining and from somewhere nearby, the Indiana farm boy in him recognized the gentle babbling of a brook.

        "Hey...yoo-hoo," a feminine voice with laughter in it said to him.  "Are you going to help me spread out the blanket or pose for your statute for the town square?"  The musings faded from Sam's thoughts as he looked around quickly up and saw the lovely woman standing there holding two corners of a blanket in her hands and grinning at him.

        "Uh... um...oh yeah, sure," Sam babbled.  But as he helped her spread the heavy dark-red and blue blanket on the grass at their feet, one of his knee-jerk questions popped into his head.  ‘Al....where are you?’  But even that was brushed aside as the woman spoke again.

        "It's so beautiful out here," she said softly, taking a deep breath of the soft country air.  "And there's nobody else around."  Walking around the blanket to Sam she slipped her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes.  "It's just you and me, babe.  Nobody knows where we are."  Glancing at her companion's lips then back to his eyes, she added meaningfully, "We can do whatever we want," then raised slightly up on her tiptoes to kiss Sam.

        ‘Ohhh boy!’

PART ONE

Coming down from off her toes, she smiled up into his face, seeing the uneasiness in his features.  She slid her hand up his abdomen, his chest and cupped his cheek gingerly.  "You worry too much.  This is just a day for us.  No worries about work, the boss, or committee meetings with your fellow advocates.  Just you, me, and the great outdoors."  She lightly patted his cheek then took a few steps back away from him.

        Looking out across the meadow where they were standing, she spread her arms wide and took in a deep breath of air.  "This is exactly what I was thinking.  Can't you just imagine the world just like this?  No pressures from anyone?  No calls saying, 'Ms. Melanie Thompson, you're to meet with Mr. Winthorp ASAP.'" 

        She turned her attention back to Sam and said, "And for sure, it's a chance for us to just rest.  I know that I've had my share of ups and downs and so have you."

Melanie Thompson.  ‘At least I know her name,’ Sam thought, grateful for the brunette providing her name so he didn't have to hem-haw his way about to discover her name.  ‘And she's...’ Bringing his left hand up to touch his cheek where she had - he stole a glance at his hand. ‘...not my wife.  Okay, she's my girlfriend.’  Now all he had to do was discover his name...his host's name.  Sam always hated playing 'name dodge' in the initial part of a leap.  For now, he settled on trying to answer her.

        "Well...that's how...things are...with a job," he amended hastily when she turned slightly toward him.  "Pressures are part of any job."  Seeing the look on her face, like she wasn't surprised at his defense of whatever job this guy had.  "Besides, it's not like I don't get time off....”

Her interrupting him with, "Jimmy, you haven't had a day off since this project started eighteen months ago," told Sam he'd put his foot in it.  From the expression in her eyes, he got the distinct feeling that Ms. Melanie Thompson wasn't going to let him talk her out of this time together.

        Almost as a joke, he said, "So you what? Kidnapped me for a day and whisked me off to... here?"  Looking around, Sam took a good look at the lovely countryside surrounding them, all of it crowned with a blue sky patched with puffs of fluffy white clouds and fanned by a soft breeze.  As he slowly scanned the meadow, it was as if the leaper finally felt the lack of pressure to do... anything.  He took a deep breath of the air scented with the wildflowers that dotted the meadow then let it out slowly, and as he did so, felt the tension ease a bit across his shoulders.  "This is nice," he murmured.

        "Well, it should be nice," Melanie answered back to him with a smile.  "I purposely found out about this place some time ago and made it a point to find it and make sure that you got away."  She smiled then tilted her head to the side then licked her lips.  "Like you mind being kidnapped, by your girlfriend."

        Seeing a smile slowly spread on Sam's face, Melanie pointed her finger at him.  "Gotcha.  And no," she said as she took a step toward him and grabbed the cell phone that was on his hip attached to the top of his jeans.  "This is a cell-free time.  No calls.  No one can reach either of us."

        Flipping the cell phone open, she peered at the options with one click of a button then turned it off.  She then grabbed her own phone from her hip and did the same thing.  "There.  We are now, technology challenged out here in the middle of all this splendor to ... have a picnic... and relax."  With that said, she sat down on the blanket and leaned back on one elbow as she reached to put the phones in the bag that had come with her from the car. 

        Eyeing the bag Melanie had put the cell phones in Sam toyed with the idea of trying to get his hands on one of them. But apparently Jimmy's girlfriend had prepared for that contingent when he started for the bag. 

        "Hey, I was just going to..." he protested when she took hold of the bag and told him, "You lay one finger on either of those phones and I'll pitch them in the stream." 

        "Okay, okay," he relented and backed up then sat down on the blanket beside her.  For a minute he and Melanie just looked at each other before he looked away, once more studying the serene countryside.  He hated to admit it, but he felt not just awkward but...nervous.  There was always something he had to do in a leap, but Sam was hard pressed to recall...what fragmented bits and pieces that he could snag out of his Swiss-cheese memory... when he didn't get a clue within a few minutes of leaping in as to what he had to do.

        "It's so quiet," he murmured. He sat Indian-style, his elbows propped on his knees and wondered under his breath, "Where are you, Al?"  But there was no 'clunk schoom' sound to herald the Observer's arrival.  That thought was set aside when Sam noticed Melanie getting up and starting toward the dark green Ford Explorer parked a few yards away under another tree.  He watched her open the back of it and begin rummaging about.

        "Can I help?" he called out then got to his feet when he saw her pulling a small cooler out.  "Here, let me help you."  But when he reached the vehicle, Sam was surprised when Melanie took hold of the cooler, telling him, "You just get your tackle box and fishing rod," as she started back toward the blanket.

        Peering into the back of the Explorer, Sam spotted the fishing rod and pulled it out.  He smiled when he saw the brand name: Quantum.  Glancing up and around he asked of the wide blue sky, "You trying to tell me something?"  Of course, there was no answer, so he found the tackle box and carried it and the rod back toward Melanie. 

        "It's been a while since I did any fishing," he began then was surprised when she paused in opening a soft drink and flicked her hand at him in the direction of the other side of the meadow. "What?"

        Melanie looked back at him with a bit of a smile as she flicked her hand at the other side of the meadow.  Hearing his question, she shook her head.  "The stream is that way," she said plainly as she pointed to it.  "I plan on reading a bit unless you want to throw the Frisbee around first before you fish.  Either or."  She stopped and approached him once more stopping before she was within his personal space.  "Go ahead and fish.  Gather your thoughts or don't.  Up to you."  Smiling, she turned and knew that he was just going to stand there looking at her a bit confused.  "And standing there staring at me, isn't fishing," she called out over her shoulder.

        "My mother has eyes in the back of her head," he responded out of knee-jerk reaction.  "Don't tell me you do, too."  But that just got him shooed again and he started across the meadow only to stop after a few steps.  "What if I get lost?"  It felt good to grin and laugh when she answered back, "If you get lost three hundred yards from this tree, then I'm going to seriously question why you’re working as a surveyor."

        Sam did stand and just look at the nicely shaped rear view of Ms. Melanie Thompson before he turned and started across the meadow.  The meadow was thick with summer wildflower...bluebells and black-eyed Susan’s and some others he didn't recall the names of. The lush wild grasses whispered and sighed as he moved through it, now guided by the sound of flowing water.

        Coming in sight of the stream that cut through the meadow, dotted along with several trees, Sam didn't need to be told that he needed to approach it quietly.  He hadn't fished since... he couldn't remember when the last time was... but he knew that he had to approach quietly if he expected to catch anything.

        Moving carefully forward, Sam made his way to the stream.  Finding a spot with a bit of shade, he set the tackle box down and opened it.  It was instantly apparent to him that his host was really into fishing, given the array of lures and plugs that were neatly stored in the tackle box.  There were packets of hooks and sinkers of various sizes, but since he had no idea of where exactly in the country he was, he played it safe and easy, choosing a small red and white pencil bobber.  Affixing it to the fishing line about six inches above the hook, Sam next looked for bait then rolled his eyes at himself.

        Putting the rod down, he turned and walked back across the meadow.  Coming in sight of the tree and blanket that was, at least for the moment, his home base in this leap, he paused at the sight of Melanie.  She was lying on the blanket, a small pillow of some sort under her head, her eyes focused on the book before her.

        Moving quietly forward, Sam paused again when he was closer.  He studied her quiet repose. She seemed, it struck him oddly, familiar.  ‘But I've never met her before in my life,’ he reminded himself.  After a moment he continued toward the Explorer, but apparently wasn't quite as quiet as he thought as he looked around in the back of the vehicle for a container of bait of some sort.

        Hearing the noises from behind her at the vehicle, Melanie turned over onto her stomach and peered up at her boyfriend who was rummaging through the car.  "If you are looking for your notebook, it's at your house.  I left it there.  However, if you are looking for bait," she said with a grin, "it's in the cooler."

        She watched as he straightened up and turned to look at her with an expression that told her that he was just a tad put out.  "No, I wasn't looking for my..."

        "Okay.  But still, I know you.  You're a workaholic.  I'm sure that you were even thinking about where your buddy, Alvin Crandt.  I'm starting to think that you and Al were connected at the hip."

        It wasn't Melanie's comment about Jimmy being a workaholic that startled Sam so suddenly that he raised up quickly and bumped the back of his head against the upper part of the framework of the door on the Explorer.  It was the first syllable of the man's name she said...'Alvin Crandt' that made the leaper jerk like he'd been shot.

        "Ouch!" he gasped at the pain in the back of his head, reaching to put a hand to feel the now tender spot as he turned sharply to stare at Melanie.  "Who...what did you say his name was?"  Even a bit more unsettling was her comment about this guy Alvin and him...his host being joined at the hip.  To cover he told her, "We work together...a lot.  It's not all that unusual." He winced as he gently probed the small goose egg on the back of his head.

        Melanie sat up.  "What's unusual about the two of you is that you guys can finish each other's sentences.  That's a bit much when you work side by side, Jimmy.  Are you going to be okay?"  Not waiting for him to respond, she quickly got up and walked to him.  "Let me see..." 

        He ducked several times for her not to see then she placed her hands on her hips.  "James David Carey, let me see that bump.  If it's bad, we need to take you to the doctor.  Now, let me see!"

        "It's not that..."

        "James..." she warned him.

        "Okay, okay."

        He sat on the end of the Blazer and bowed down slightly so that she could look for herself.  He could feel her hand lightly touch the spot and he flinched.  "Ow."

        "Oh stop it."  She ran her hand lightly over it once more then sighed.  "It's going to hurt, but at least it's not bleeding."

        As he sat patiently while Melanie got a closer look at the bump, Sam's mind was in a whirl.  He lifted his head and looked at her.  He didn't know why but he felt the need to explain, what he just wasn't sure. Without Al here to provide him with information about this James David Carey, Sam knew he had to tread carefully.

"Al....and I," he began slowly, watching her even as he craned his neck a bit to release a little of the tension in it. "We've been friends a long time.  Even before we...you and I... met."  For a moment it was like a sliver of a movie flashed before his eyes...something about a hammer and a dime...  When nothing else came to him, Sam added, "He's my best friend, Melanie.  As for finishing each other's sentences...." He offered her a sheepish grin.  "Friends ... good friends do that sometimes."  Another snippet of memory flashed through his mind but it was too quick to catch.  To cover that he wanted to try and find that bit of memory, Sam asked, "The bait's in the cooler?"  At her nod, he stood slowly up from the tailgate and went to the cooler sitting beside the picnic hamper at one corner of the blanket.

        Opening the lid, he saw a small brown paper sack and grabbed it.  Opening it and seeing the small plastic container that he seemed to recall was used for packaging earthworms, Sam also grabbed a can of beer...a Miller Lite.  Letting the lid drop shut, he stood up and started across the meadow toward the stream again.  But as he walked, his thoughts again returned to the first question that had occurred to him: ‘Al.... where are you?’

PART TWO

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

It was rare for Admiral Albert Calavicci to actually sleep in and when his eyes opened and he actually felt rested, he bolted upright on the bed.  Something wasn't right.  He didn't know what it was, but he knew deep down that something was up.

        Looking at the space where Beth usually was curled up beside him and seeing it empty was something that also surprised him.  She was gone.  Al blinked then pushed his legs over the side of the bed before he stood and padded over to the closet and took out his black and white striped robe and slipped it on. 

        Tying it around his body, he slipped into his house shoes and without a shower or even a cup of coffee started out the door toward the Control Center. 

        By the time that he got to the Control Room, the room was buzzing with excitement.  Al peered in around the door and blinked.  ‘What in the hell?’ he wondered as he looked in to see St. John underneath Ziggy's console and a handful of technicians looking at different conduits panels that were pulled down from different parts around the wall.

        Stepping inside, Al shook his head. He let the thought spill forward as he barked, "Just what in the hell is going on in here?" he asked more than a bit irked that he hadn't been called if there was a problem.

        St. John's voice floated out from beneath Ziggy's console, calm and controlled as if it were a common thing for him to be found under the main console with his head almost inside it.  "There's a slight malfunction with one of the sequencing runs during initiation of bringing the Imaging Chamber online, Admiral."

        "Then why the hell wasn't I notified as soon as it was discovered?"

        Under the console, St. John sighed and paused long enough to withdraw from his search to look up at Al.  "It's just been discovered, Admiral," he informed the Acting Project Director and Chief Observer.  "I was at the second phase of bringing the power up when there was a sudden power surge and then it just as immediately aborted the sequence and shut down."

        It wasn't the first time he'd been the focus of Admiral Calavicci's demanding attitude, so the chief programmer wasn't that concerned.  But that didn't mean that he was off the hook, a fact that was evidenced by a barrage of rapid-fire questions from Al.   Glancing at Ted Davis and Robin Coltrell, the most senior logistical and programming technicians allowed in the Control Room, he nodded at them to keep working.  He, on the other hand, knowing that until Al was satisfied that he had all the facts, he wasn't going to accomplish much, got to his feet and waited for the inevitable inquisition.

        Al watched as the programmer looked at the other men and nodded before he ran his tongue over his front teeth then asked, "When will the Imaging Chamber be back online?" 

        Hearing, "As soon as we can find the problem, sir," Al gave St. John a look of distaste. 

        "What if Sam leaps?  What then?  You can't keep the thing offline for long.  We need Ziggy up and working correctly, St. John."

        "I am well aware of that fact, Admiral Calavicci," St. John replied only to the last observation.  "But Ziggy advised me just before the unexpected shutdown, that she did not detect any sign that Dr. Beckett had leaped."  He didn't comment to the pithy retort that brought.  Instead he stated, "Sir, if you're quite finished, I need to get back to what I was doing.  After all," he told the now more than annoyed Al. "Chatting isn't going to allow me to track down and ascertain exactly what needs to be repaired in order to get the Imaging Chamber operational once more." When pressed again by Al for what the specific problem was, St. John responded a trifle crisply, "It could be the power flux relay buffer, Admiral.  Or it could be the overload capacitor. Or it could even be that a mouse got in and nibbled on one of the cables."  He took the look turned on him as he had learned to - with a grain of salt.  "If you'll excuse me, Admiral," the programmer murmured as he got down on the floor again and slid under the console, now joined by another technician.

        Al shook his head at the programmer and sighed heavily.  He looked up at the blue dark-shadowed orb that hung from the ceiling and for a split moment wished to see it sparkling again with a pithy comment coming from it as well.

        Turning, he headed back toward the cafeteria at the other end of the hallway and hoped that even though he had slept in that there would be some coffee available.

        Opening the door of the cafeteria, he was more than a bit surprised when a young body came running into him at top speed, and knocked him on his butt on the other side of the hallway.  "Uumph!"

        Al looked up, about ready to bark at the person who had been running so blindly toward him, then saw immediately that he was glad that he had held his tongue.

        "Ohhh, Uncle Al.  I'm sorry!  I... I didn't see you.  I... "  Stephen Beckett blundered on as he walked over to the older man and extended his hand out to help him up.  "... I had just figured out what I needed to do to make the handlink work again and I was just so excited that I was racing to get it done.  I... oh... I'm sorry."

The young boy excitedly bit at his lower lip as he helped Al back up then nervously cleared his throat under Al's scrutiny.  "You know, the one that you broke?  I think that I know how to fix it. The idea came to me when we... I started thinking about the matrix and how it could be changed.  I can even make it better... I... I hope."

        Stephen paused for a moment still under Al's glaze and the perked up as he opened the cafeteria door for him to enter.  "You know if you'd like, you can come to my lab... and I'll show you what I'm planning on doing.  You might think..."

        The look on Al's face was priceless as his eyebrows rose slightly and then began to shake his head slowly from side to side.

        "Oh, come on, Uncle Al.  You never know until you've tried something if you like it," he said with a grin knowing that Al had just told him that last night about eating frog legs for dinner.  But somewhere in the back of Stephen’s mind, he knew that talking carbon quarks, mesons and neurons only made Al loopy and even more confused.

Al studied Stephen's excited expression, the brightness of his eyes as he reminded him of what he'd said just the night before.  "Yeah," he said as he walked through the cafeteria door then paused to wait for the boy to step up beside him.  "But there's a big difference between eating frog legs and understanding the intricacies of carbon quarks and all that other stuff."  He couldn't help grinning when Stephen giggled at that observation. Just the sound of the boy's laughter was taking the edge off what he'd found in the Control Room a few minutes ago.

        "Tell you what," he said, reaching a hand to ruffle Stephen's brown hair.  "Let me get a cup of coffee and you can show me what your ideas are.  But..." he warned when the boy said, "All right!".... "You gotta keep the explanation at a junior college level."

        A couple of minutes later, a mug of the cafeteria's always strong coffee firmly in hand, Al sauntered down the hallway and listened to the excitement in a little boy's voice; a little boy who daily reminded him more and more of his father.  It was almost a grandfatherly pride that caused the thought of 'like father, like son' to drift through his mind as they walked along.

Even as they neared the 'secret lab' of the young Beckett, Stephen moved his hands in a circle in front of him.  "So... do you see what I'm saying?"  He glanced up to look at Al and saw the glazed over expression.  "Uncle Al?"

        "Uhmmmm..."

        Stephen smiled then chuckled softly.  "What I'm telling you Uncle Al is that I know how busy that you've been and with this handlink... if it works the way that I want it to... and it should... Ziggy could be a hologram tuned to both of you."  Seeing the lost expression cross over Al's face, Stephen frowned.

        "I know that you've seen Star Trek:  Voyager.  You know... that one that you walked in while I was watching and you saw the woman with the stuff on her face... the one with the really tight body suit..."

        "And the...” Al stopped himself from finishing his sentence and made himself take a sip of his coffee as he remembered the tall blonde bombshell from the show.

        "Yeah... the one with the big boobs," Stephen giggled.  "You can't hide anything in that outfit that she wears."

        The coffee that sprayed over Stephen's head landed on the complex's wall and began to make a lazy trail down the wall.  "Stephen..."

        "I'm sorry, Uncle Al.  You okay?  I guess that I shouldn't hang out so much with you," he said with a grin.  "But... in that show... the doctor... he's not real.  He's a hologram, just like you are to dad when you are in the Imaging Chamber and vise versa.  Ziggy would be able to take a shape... a form... not just from the handlink... but actually be a woman.  Then, you could get some rest."  Stephen stepped forward and laid his hand on Al's arm.  "I'm doing this for you, Uncle Al.  I... I thought it would help... and it's giving me something to work on at the same time.  So... please... please don't shoot it down before you even see the final product."

        ‘You're too much like your dad for my own good,’ Al thought as he was fixed yet again with the junior version of the Beckett puppy-dog gaze.  The logic was there, the ever active and searching mind was definitely to the fore, and also the desire to help others.  But Al couldn't help but have a moment's qualm for personal reasons.  He wondered if the boy had ever considered that for as great as Ziggy in a real human-like form would be...except for the 'ego-in-a-can' having a new way to spread that ego around... that it might seem to him that he was being reminded of his age? 

        Al studied the boy's face for a long, introspective moment, wondering at the earnestness in Stephen's words and decided not to think beyond what his godson was offering him.

        "How could I do that?" he said with a slow smile.  "I'm fresh out of 'idea-shooting-down-bullets."  It was the right thing to say, judging by the boy's reaction as he watched him key in the secret code for the door of the 'secret lab' then follow him inside.  Yet as he mentally prepared himself for Stephen getting involved in the explanations of his own little pet project, Al wondered again about Sam.  ‘Was he okay?  Had he leaped yet?’

        "Uncle Al?"

        "Oh, I'm sorry," Al apologized hastily when he realized he had been caught in another dimension.  "I'm listening, really, I am. But...could you go over that last part again...a little slower?  And use "Uncle Al" sized words?"

Stephen giggled.  "You know, if you just want to watch while I prattle on, that'll work to.  I just don't want to be alone."

        Al nodded then went over to the bench where Stephen sat down and began to pull out the old handlink and look at it before he began to mumble to himself how he could fix it to where he wanted it to be.

        Al watched him for over two hours before he excused himself.  Stephen had already fixed the handlink back to its original state and began to tell him how to make it even better.  "Kid, I'm sorry, but I've got to get dressed and check on your dad.  I'll come back in a bit and see how you are doing.  Okay?"

        Stephen hopped up from the bench and threw his arms around the older man and hugged him tightly.  "Thanks Uncle Al for coming in and just being here with me.  It meant a lot to me."

        "Thanks for inviting me in to watch, even if I didn't quite get most of what you were mumbling and then shouting, "That's it!" about," the Observer told him, returning the hug. 

Leaving Stephen to his own devices, Al returned to his quarters.  A quick hot shower and a shave got rid of the few lingering wisps of mental cobwebs. Choosing a casual outfit - for him - of khaki slacks and dark plum silk pullover and loafers, he headed back to the Control Room, confident that he would find Ziggy back to normal and the handlink just waiting to be slipped into his pocket.  But the sight that greeted him when the Control Room door finally slid open was the last thing Al had expected to see.

        "What in the hell is going on now?" he demanded, his relaxed attitude and outlook fizzling as his temper started to rise.

PART THREE

        Sam had no idea that he had spent several hours already fishing out of the brook that was before him.  He hadn't had a day in such a long time that his mind wasn't reeling from the turmoil that he had gotten use to in the last few years.  It was one thing to leap into a situation and be put on the spot to stop something from happening and usually Al was there to help out; but this was different.  There wasn't anything to change.  Not as far as he could tell, and without Al coming to tell him exactly that, he wondered even more when his partner in crime would be around to help him out of this leap... well, that is if he really wanted out.  At the present moment, he was at peace with fishing and just lounging in the sun letting the wind sweep at his hair.

        Sam took in a deep breath then slowly and most deliberately held it before letting it slowly escape back out. He looked up at the puffy white clouds that were above him and just enjoyed the imagines that began to play in his mind.

        "Which one are you seeing?" a voice from behind him asked softly.  "The dragon with the smile, the clown with its sombrero tilted to the side, or the floppy eared hound dog?"

        She knelt down beside him and smiled when he finally turned his head to her.  "You look more relaxed now that you did about two hours ago."  She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders and gave a slight squeeze.  "Ohhhh yeah.  Much better.  Much better." 

        Leaning slightly forward, she placed a kiss on his cheek and watched as he dropped his head forward again - quietly asking for her to continue with the massage.  "Will I get one in return?" she asked as she began massaging the somewhat taut muscles and began to feel them slowly relax under her tender care.

        "Umm," Sam sighed, his chin almost on his chest, his eyes closed as he let his...for now... girlfriend manipulate the tension he hadn't realized was still in his shoulders into nothingness.  When she asked again, he mumbled, "Yeah.  Anything that feels this good...oh...oh, yeah..." He slightly hunched one shoulder under her fingers. "Right...right there... you got it."  When the troublesome spot had been smoothed out, he sighed and resumed the position.  "Hey," he said softly.

        "Yes?"

        "I'll give you a dollar to stop tomorrow."  For the life of him, Sam couldn't have not said it, nor could he have denied how he enjoyed her instant, "Oh you!" response followed by her giving him a semi-hard pinch then a shove. 

        Sam was so relaxed at that point that he went with the flow of the push and tumbled over.  "Okay, I give! I give!" he laughed up at Melanie.  Waiting a moment to see if she was going to rain more retribution on him, Sam decided by the way the corners of her mouth were trying not to turn up that it was safe, and sat up.  Looking around he saw the fishing rod laying where he had dropped it; he ignored it, but then thought better.  Stretching out a bit, he snagged it and reeled the line in.  With that done, he put it to one side then shifted his position a bit then patted a spot on the ground in front of him.

        "Next," he said, looking up at her and turning loose the full power of the Beckett puppy-dog eyes.  Holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers lightly he said, "Two hands...no waiting," and smiled.

Melanie smiled down at her boyfriend sitting with his fingers wiggling in the air and shook her head and moved around to sit on the ground in front of him with her back toward him.  Scooting back a bit closer to him, she reached up to pull her dark hair forward over her shoulders.  Wriggling a bit to find a more comfortable position, she told him, "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Two-Hands-No-Waiting."

Sam just looked at the back of Melanie Thompson a moment before bringing his hands up.  After a couple of hesitant, false starts he at last placed his hands on her shoulders.

Even as his hands began to massage her muscles he watched as she ducked her head toward her chest and literally became putty in his hands.  The soft sounds that escaped her lips were more than just a little erotic and the thought that raced through his mind of what Al would say if he happened to show up at the present moment.  He grinned and pushed the thought of the hologram from his mind as he continued to tend to Ms. Melanie Thompson.

After a good five minutes, he stopped and lightly rubbed her back.  “Was that okay?” he asked softly.

The way that Melanie took in a deep slow breath then let it back out just as slowly as she lay back against him answered his question in spades.  “That let me know when the doctor is in again.  There are days that those hands could come in handy.” She reached for his arms and folded them around her.  She turned her head so that she could slightly see his face beside her.  “Admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Admit that you needed a break from the rut that you were in.  That you just needed some down time to re-charge and get ready for the next big obstacle.

Sam blinked at her words.  He hadn’t thought about it too much, but she was right.  He had needed some down time.  He had leaped so many times; he had no idea when he just had time to relax.  He smiled gently when she nudged his arm and said, “Come on… admit it.”

Slowly, Sam took in a deep breath and leaned toward her to give her a very sincere hug.  “Ok.  I admit it.  I needed the break, and you did a very good job getting me here to relax.  Thank you.”

Melanie smiled in victory as she ran her hand along his arm.  “You’re very welcome.”  Her gaze went to the stream he’d been fishing out of and tilted her head slightly.  “Have you caught anything?”

“Not a one,” came his response.  “But that’s okay.  It’s just the act of trying that is fulfilling anyway.  It served its purpose.”

“Oh good.  I’m glad then that I found this place.”

“Me too,” Sam responded softly.

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

        “Me too,” Stephen responded to the holographic matrix that had appeared behind him after Al had left and said that he was excited by the aspect of Ziggy actually being a hologram.  As the young Beckett continued to tinker with the handlink, he couldn’t help but grin.  “You know, she could be considered your mom,” he said with a chuckle.   The response he got was a bit more than he expected.

        Dante rolled his eyes. "Duh!  Computer generated holograms don't have 'mothers'," he said.

Stephen looked up from the fine adjustment he had been tinkering with to look at the hologram, and then laughed out loud when cheeky hologram added, "On the other hand, maybe it would be fun to 'create' a mom.  You know...one that doesn't tell you when to go to bed, or eat stuff you don't like or.... What?"

Stephen just grinned and went back to tinkering.  Every so often he stopped to ask Dante a question, sometimes to do with the tinkering, other times just talking.  It felt good to have someone to talk to on his level, even if the other 'kid' wasn't real.  Once he paused to listen to Dante answering about something, but in another part of his mind, he wondered if his own father's appreciation of his Uncle Al was the same.  ‘Not really there to touch, but what's important about him is.’  That thought led to another thought.  ‘I wonder what Dad's doing?’ Then came another thought.  ‘Whom does Dad talk to when Uncle Al isn't there?’

     The moment that Admiral Albert Calavicci paused for the door to the Control Center to open, he was in a good mood, but it quickly began to fade when he stepped into the room to see Ziggy's mainframe in several pieces on the floor, half of the room's panels laying on the floor beside them, along with not just a few, but ten technicians milling from panel to panel talking in what he called gibberish.  He looked up at the still dark-shadowed orb that hung from the ceiling and shook his head in utter shock and wonderment.  "What in the hell is going on now?" he asked loudly as he entered and just about tripped on one square blue cube that went in the center of Ziggy's mainframe.  "St. John!!" he barked at the programmer whose head popped up on the other side of Ziggy's now dismantled mainframe.

     Al raised his finger to the man who stood up and then glanced once more around the room.  "Maybe you didn't understand this earlier.  We need this thing up and working.  Sam really could need our help and you've got Ziggy totally dismantled!  You have some serious explaining to do!"

        St. John had known from the moment he and Tina had agreed that it would be necessary to manually trace down the problem that the Admiral wasn't going to like what that meant.  That thought came back to him the instant he heard, "St. John!!"   Taking care to mark the juncture that he had just tested and cleared as the possible problem source, the chief programmer raised up just high enough to see over the mainframe then got to his feet as Al demanded an explanation.

        "Admiral," he began, the patient tone he always used in situations like this coming out.  "We have determined that the problem is not with any of the software, but is in fact, to do with the hardware.  And, in this case, Dr. Martinez-O'Farrell and I discussed and agreed that it is best that we take the time now, before Dr. Beckett leaps again, to track it down.  And what you see," he waved a hand lightly toward the assorted panels laying in what appeared to be a haphazard fashion on the floor, "is necessary."

        "But if Sam has leaped, there's no way to get to him with Ziggy's guts laying all over everywhere!"

        "Admiral," St. John tried not to let his exasperation show through his sigh.  "If we don't find and fix this small problem, even if we put all the pieces back into their proper places, you still wouldn't be able to contact Dr. Beckett because the power initiation sequence would never complete to start the neural search."  Pausing, he fixed the annoyed Observer with a certain look.  "We will have Ziggy fixed and right as rain before Dr. Beckett leaps.  I promise."  

        "How can you promise what you have no way of knowing whether or not it's happened?" Al demanded.  Seeing the chief programmer's expression change, he clamped his teeth together to keep from saying something he'd likely regret later.  "All right.  All right.  I'll go away and let you work.  But...get a move on will you?"  Glancing at the hive of busyness that hadn't ceased for a moment during his talk with St. John, he added, "Get the ego back into her can."  With that he turned and left the Control Room.  But when he was at the elevator waiting for it, he, like his godson, wondered, ‘What are you doing, Sam?’

PART FOUR

After lying back on the grass and just enjoying the wind and clouds shifting shapes and talking with Melanie, they both decided that it was time for the food that was in the cooler beside the blanket.  As Melanie hurried toward the blanket, Sam stopped and glanced around the meadow that they were in and looked up toward the sky feeling totally at peace with everything.  'Was this what it was supposed to be like to ... just live?' he wondered. He hadn't really thought about it since he had leaped into himself when he was fifteen.

        Then, he had his chores and his schoolwork to do, but other than that, he was at peace on the farm.  He smiled lightly and reopened his eyes.  It was nice just a place to be at peace.

        "Jimmy?" he heard Melanie call out to her boyfriend and he shook himself out of the reverie.

        "Yeah?" he asked as he approached her.

        "Just wanted to make sure that you hadn't turned into a statue as you basked in the afternoon sun," she said with a smile.  "I can tell that you are totally relaxed, aren't you?"

        Sam smiled at her words and nodded.  He wasn't sure exactly why he moved up to her and took her into his arms but he wasn't going to worry about it at the moment.  Holding her close, he looked her right in the eye and said, "Thank you."

        Melanie smiled sweetly and reached up and kissed the tip of his nose.  "You are more than welcome."  It was then that she slipped out of his embrace to move toward the cooler and opened it.  Looking inside, she asked, "What are you hungry for?  Ham, turkey, or roast beef with cheese?"

        "Yes," Sam answered with a grin as he followed her to the blanket under the tree.  Stepping on it, he went to drop down beside her and the open cooler.  To the look she was giving him, he simply grinned wider.  "I'm hungry and I like all three.  So...give me one of each.  Or, if you really wanted to spoil me, you could take 'em apart and make one BIG sandwich...." 

He just laughed when she picked up three sandwiches and plopped them in his lap, saying, "Here, you want them like that?  You do it...the old-fashioned way."

"The old-fashioned way?" Sam asked as he unwrapped a sandwich then checked to see what it was - ham.

"Yes," Melanie told him waggishly.  "Eat them.  That way they'll all be together just the way you want them."

        Lifting the sandwich to take a bite, Sam paused, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her, "But I thought you wanted to spoil me a little?"

"Spoil you?" she asked with a small chuckle.  "Whatever gave you that idea?"  She grabbed a piece of ice that was inside the cooler and quickly put it down the back of his shirt.

        Seeing him squirm and yell out, "Hey!" as he did the best that he could to get the cold piece out from his tucked in shirt, she couldn't help but grab one more and put it down the vee of his shirt as well. 

        The sandwich forgotten in his hurry to yank the tail of his shirt from the waistband of his jeans in order to let the ice cubes fall out, Sam finally stopped and turned a 'now you've done it' look on Melanie.  Stepping past her to the cooler, he reached in and grabbed a handful of ice.

"No, Jimmy... no.  I... I'm sorry... please..."

Turning around and seeing that she'd already scrambled to her feet and was across the blanket and backing away from him, Sam started after her, his long stride cutting the distance between them quickly.  When she kept pleading and giggling, "No....don't you dare!" his green eyes danced as he moved faster toward her. 

"Oh but, Miz Mel'ny," he drawled with a wicked grin as she squealed and turned around and started running across the meadow. "It's pay back time!"

        It took Sam about five minutes to finally catch up with Melanie, at which time he laughed with delight as he dropped what remained of the ice down the back of her blouse and then added 'insult to injury' by pulling her into his arms and then reached around behind to rub the ice up and down her back until it melted. And when it was melted, only then did he stop and hug her close.  As if the hug was a signal, they both stopped and just stood, bathed in the warm sunlight and utter quiet of the meadow.

        One minute then another and another passed as the soft whispering breeze ruffled Sam's hair, and still he didn't try to move.  Finally though, Melanie stirred in his arms and he was surprised at the reluctance that he felt in releasing her.  In a way, he almost expected her to be mad at him for getting the back of her shirt wet with the ice.  But she wasn't.

        “Come on, Jim.”  Melanie reached up and caressed his cheek gently before she captured Sam’s hand in hers and led him back to the blanket.  Smiling at him as he sat down on the blanket to retrieve the sandwiches she had given to him, she opened the cooler and grabbed two sodas.  Handing him one, she sat down beside him and grabbed her sandwich.  “Eat up,” she replied, “then next… is nap time.”

        Sam made a face as he swallowed the bite that was in his mouth and opened his soda.  “Aww… but mom,” he teased.

        “No buts,” she stated as she wagged a finger at his nose.  “You know you’re tired.  I can see it in your eyes.”

        Sam’s expression changed slightly when the thought of, ‘How’d she know?’ ran through his mind.  “You know, you’re right.  I think I will try to take a nap.”

        “No try… do,” she corrected.

        “Ok, Master,” Sam said with a chuckle as the Star Wars epic crossed his mind.  He glanced over at Melanie as she took a sip of her soda and he questioned her, “How’d I get so lucky to have met you?”

        Melanie gave him a brilliant smile.  “Oh, just at the right place at the right time.  It wasn’t a chance of fate.  It was meant to be.  Sort of a leap of faith so to speak.”

        Had she said what he thought she said?  ‘A leap of faith,’ he wondered as he watched her begin to gather the trash to put it in a sack then take the trash to the car.  When she came back, she had two pillows in her hands.  She handed one to him.

        Sam looked up at her once more then looked down at the pillow.  “You really meant a nap, huh?”

        “Yup,” she answered as she settled down on the blanket and slipped the pillow under her head.  “Come on, Jim.  Lay down and rest with me.”

        Sam did as he was asked and laid down beside her.  He was tired, he knew, and with one last glance at Melanie beside him, he relaxed and closed his eyes.  Within moments, he was asleep.

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

        “HOT DOG! I got it!” Stephen Beckett yelled out.  “Dante!  I got it!” he exclaimed and turned back to the hologram now standing beside him.  “Look!  You look at it and run an analysis to see if this will work,” Stephen demanded then quickly remembered his manners.  “Please.”

        Dante looked upon the handlink his master had made and was quite impressed.  “That should work.  Look, you even have the circuitry for the head turned correctly,” the holographic image responded somewhat sarcastically.

        “I would hope so.  This took me a long enough time…”

        “You think that they’ll let you use this on the mainframe? What if Admiral Calavicci says no?”
        “He’s already used this one before,” Stephen said with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice.  “But that was before all of the enhancements.”

        Dante shifted his stance and casually leaned forward looking once more at the enhancements then looked at his only friend.  “You do know what this means, don’t you?”

        A frown crossed Stephen’s brow as he tried to think of what the holographic pal could mean.  “What?”
        “You’ve replaced Admiral Calavicci.  He’s no longer needed.  You’ve… well… you’ve basically forced him to admit that he’s old and of no use with this project and should retire.  He’ll leave.”

        Stephen blinked as his frown deepened. “No.” He shook his head as he saw what Dante meant.  “N-no.  This is to help Uncle Al n-not replace him.” Stephen turned to place his body up against the table he’d been working on.  Thoughts ran through his mind as he tried to rationalize what he could do so that wouldn’t happen.  “I could…”

        “… make it to where only Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci can see the hologram?  Then what’s the point of doing this at all, Stephen?”
        Stephen growled lowly in his throat then an idea popped into the programmer’s mind.

        “Dante, remember… I programmed you to only show yourself to me unless it was a dire emergency.” Stephen quickly turned around to take one of the many chips from the handlink.  “I’ll do the same here.  Ziggy can only show herself to the main personnel and those with the strictest of security protocol.  Make sense?  Analyze that then sit on it.”

        “Analysis of projected outcome – that could work, but…” Dante paused then asked, “Sit on what?”

        Stephen’s laughter billowed through the small lab and he quickly took the chip to work on it’s programming.  “Come on, Dante, help me out here,” Stephen said still chuckling.

        Al didn't know how many times he had looked at his watch as he waited for some report from St. John to tell him that Ziggy's problem was fixed.  It bothered him tremendously knowing that Sam probably needed his help and he wasn't there for his friend.  Nonetheless, he forced himself to stay in his office and try to work on some of the never-ending paperwork that the daily operation of the project inevitably generated.  That lasted all of about an hour.

             Unable to stand not knowing how things were progressing in the Control Room, he dropped the pen and left the open folder and report he'd read at least a half dozen times without retaining six words of it, and went to the Control Room.  "How much longer...." he demanded before the door was fully open, "...is this going to take?"  Whatever else he had been about to say was forgotten as he beheld that most of the Control Room floor was clear.

Looking around, he saw St. John, Tina and a couple of the technicians with the highest clearance to be in the room behind the mainframe, their attention focused on something.  But it was the sound of a familiar, if annoying, female voice that really finished putting a muzzle on his urge to bark.

             "To answer your question, Admiral Calavicci," Ziggy stated calmly. "The remaining panels will be in place and the final adjustments made and diagnostics run to affirm that the problem has been found and corrected should take approximately one hour and ten minutes."  When Al's gaze went to the chief programmer who had paused in his work to look over at him when asked, "Is that right, St. John?" Ziggy responded with a trace of a snit in her tone, "What's the matter, Admiral, don't you trust me to know when I am at full capacity?"

             "It never hurts to have a *human* opinion," he retorted, glad to feel the weighty anxiety slipping from his mind at the sound of Her Highness' case of attitude.  Turning on his heel, Al exited the Control Room, saying back over his shoulder, "Call me the moment the Imaging Chamber comes online, people."

            "How about if I advise you, Admiral?" Ziggy asked.  "Or do you trust me to handle such a simple task?"

            Melanie lay quietly beside Sam for nearly twenty minutes after he fell asleep.  Shifting onto her side to face toward him, she studied his face, noting how sleep had begun, as it always did, to smooth and ease the fine lines of tension and fatigue from around his eyes.  Once she reached to gently brush a strand of hair off his forehead, confident that her light touch wouldn't disturb the much-needed slumber of this special man.

            At last, assured that her companion was deeply asleep, the attractive brunette moved quietly off the blanket and with a glance down at Sam, turned and walked silently across the meadow toward the stream.  With only the soft whispering breeze and intermittent chirping and singing from the birds, she undressed and then waded carefully out into the cool waters of the stream sheltered beneath the trees that lined its banks.  She enjoyed the cool water on her skin and she reveled in the relaxation, closing her thoughts to everything, yet still aware of all around her.

           Sam wasn't sure what it was that woke him, only that whatever it was, it had been subtle.  Feeling the softness under his head, he rubbed his cheek against then sighed, his eyes still closed, "Now that was good nap."  When there wasn't any response, he frowned slightly then opened his eyes then realized he was alone. 

            "Melanie?" he called softly, rolling his head to look off to his right.  "Melanie?"  Receiving no answer, Sam sat up and only then noticed that the sun had begun to inch toward the western horizon.  "How long was I asleep?" he murmured, then brushed that aside as he refocused on finding his companion.

             A quick look around the area under the trees where he was yielded nothing, so he headed out into the meadow.  He was about halfway across it, the grasses and wildflowers almost knee-deep as he walked when he heard water splash.  Instantly he turned toward the stream, somewhere inside relaxing.  *She probably woke up before me and went to sit by the stream and read. * he thought.   Confident that his picnic partner was safe, he covered the brief distance to the low bank above the stream.  Hearing the water splash again, Sam called out lightly, "You had me going there for a few minutes...."  Whatever else he had been about to say vanished at the sight that greeted him when the small area of the stream where he had been fishing earlier came into his line of vision.

           In the moment that Sam looked down at the water, it was as if all things in nature around him worked in harmony at that moment as a shaft of late afternoon sun pierced through the leafy treetops, striking the surface of the water just right to turn it into a million shimmering, flashing diamond points of light. But it wasn't the mind-boggling brilliance of reflected light that transfixed him.  That moment went to the slender feminine figure that chose that exact moment to stand up in the water.  He knew he should look away - a gentleman would.  Yet for as much as Sam knew that, he couldn't but that didn't seem to matter as he squinted against the shimmering, dancing reflected light that seemed to envelope Melanie as she spoke from within the near blinding light as she walked out of the water.

           "You were sleeping so peacefully," she said, noting that as if prompted, the man watching her as if transfixed had suddenly turned away from her.  She smiled as she wiped off with the towel she'd brought then dropped it and began to dress.  When she stepped into her sneakers again and tied them, she finally walked up the low slope to Sam where he stood with his back to the stream.  "You can look now," she said softly.  She smiled up at him when he fumbled, "I...I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to ...look."  Putting a hand on his arm to prompt him to look at her, when those green eyes found hers, she told him, "Why not?"

           Sam fidgeted, even at his age and for as long as he had been leaping, under Melanie’s calm gaze.  "It just..."  He wanted to say something but the words just wouldn't seem to come.  So instead, he just asked, "Did you enjoy your swim?" then slipped his arm behind her waist and turned back toward the blanket under the tree across the meadow.

Melanie nodded to his question then turned her head to peer up at his face, which was still a lovely shade in the late summer sun.  "Most definitely, but I have one more thing to help you relax."

Sam looked at her a bit puzzled.  "I'm not relaxed enough?" he asked.  "You were the one that brought me here, made me fish, made a picnic for me and then a nap... how else could you relax me?" 

Melanie noticed that he conveniently left out the peak that he had seen as she climbed out of the stream and smiled.  "You'll see.  Come with me."

Once they were back to the blanket, she sat down Indian style and motioned to her lap.  Sam just tilted his head a bit and a grin found it's way to his features.  "What?"

"Humor me.  Come on; lay your head down in my lap.  Stretch out and just let me work my magic," Melanie responded with a grin.

Sam shook his head with a light chuckle then did as she requested. 

When Melanie began to run her fingertips over his forehead, then his cheeks, finding soft pressure points to keep relaxing him, Sam succumbed and closed his eyes.  It was then that she began to massage his temples ever so softly that she began to speak to him in soft whispers.

            Sam wouldn't have believed it possible that he could relax anymore than he already was.  After all, after a couple of hours drowning worms followed by a lazy, kicked-back on the grass conversation with Melanie beside him discussing the finer points of cloud pictures and then lunch and a nap....  "If I get any more relaxed," he murmured softly when her fingertips touched his temples, "my bones will melt."

             "Then let them melt," she had replied with a hint of laughter in her voice then shushed him.  Sam didn't need to be told twice, as he felt hidden tension he didn't know still lingered within in, seeped out of him with just those first gentle strokes of Melanie's fingers across his temples and forehead, his cheeks, even along the line of his jaws.  The relaxation wrapped him up within a soothing cocoon and he let it.  Somewhere, sometime once he was nestled inside it, it was then he realized Melanie was talking to him.  She spoke in soft whispers and murmurs but strangely, he didn't have to strain or try to focus to understand what she was saying.

              "You've needed this for a long time," Melanie said softly, her hands gently yet firmly finding and smoothing out the smallest knots of tension.  "Someone who never thinks of himself.... always helping others...."

             Sam wondered for an instant then dismissed the notion, saying, "I don't mind helping others."  He sighed deeply.

              "Even when you don't want to?"

              Sam shrugged vaguely; half opened his eyes to look up at the lovely face looking down at him.  "I guess somebody decided to volunteer me," he answered. But the next thought that came to him was tinted with wistfulness. "Guess I'm just too good at helping," he murmured, swallowing against the tightness that was starting in his throat.

             "Why do you think that?"

             "Because.... they won't....they won't let me go home," he whispered.

            "Where is home, Sam?"

            The question was asked so softly that Sam might have been convinced it was just loud wishful thinking. At any rate, he answered before it registered in the logic area of his mind. "Elk Ridge, Indiana," he responded then smiled, adding, "Al would say it's in New Mexico."  It was just as the last word faded from his lips that logic finally got his attention and he realized what he had been asked.  His eyes flew open and he stared, unblinking, up at Melanie.

Melanie continued her light touches across his brow and temples but focused her attention to him as his eyes peered up into hers.  She smiled as she continued and took in a deep breath.

Almost as if she was trying to cover herself, she said, "Home... is where the heart lies, true; where loved ones are waiting."  With that thought said, she ran her fingers along his jaw and his hands came up to stop her hands.

"How do you know who I am?" Sam asked softly, his gaze still fixed on her.

"How does the sunflower know to rise and fall with the sun?" she asked just as softly.  "How does the rainbow show when only a drop has fallen?"  she smiled lightly when he finally blinked his eyes.  "Just like I know how much you give of yourself to those who don't deserve it, Sam."

           For a long moment it seemed as if the universe - or at least the world around him at that moment - was holding its breath, waiting for to hear what the leaper was going to say.

           One part of Sam was shrieking at him to get up and get as far away from Melanie, or whoever this woman was.  But another part kept him still, his head in her lap and his eyes never straying from her face while his heart was beating hard in his chest.  It was beating so hard that for a moment he wondered if he could breath, that notion born as he realized...wondered if she was the one to ask the questions he had longed to have answered for so long.

           He pursed his lips then licked them, then licked them again before the question finally came out.  "When can I go home?" The fearful ache in Sam's heart as the question hovered between him and Melanie grew.  Her answer was one he had been given so many countless times.

            "Soon," Melanie murmured.  Seeing the heartbreak in Sam's green eyes, heard it in the little whimper that slipped unbidden from his lips, she resumed stroking her fingers across his forehead.  But her next words worked their magic, wiping away the heartbreak almost as fast as it had appeared.  "Very soon." At the hope she saw beginning in the depths of Sam's eyes, she added, "Whoever said that no good deed goes unpunished was very wrong, Dr. Beckett."

           Sam held his breath until his lungs ached for air, waiting for her to finish.  When Melanie did finish her thought, it was he who couldn't hold back the tear that slipped from the corner of his eye.  "Very soon, you will receive your reward."

            "Does that..." Sam swallowed hard, almost afraid to say the words out loud. "Does that mean I am going home?"  When Melanie just smiled at him, he asked again, "When?"  Her answer told him that she had said as much as she was going to...or as much as she could.

           "Soon."  That one word was equally full of hope and fraught with despair.  Sam had heard it so many times.  But as he took tentative possession of that glimmer of hope, he looked up into Melanie's eyes and asked, "Who are you?  How do you know who I am?"  In a way he was almost instantly afraid of the answer he might receive but there was no such thing as un-asking the question.

Melanie smiled down upon him just as the sun began to set.  She looked up at the sun then back down to the man before her and tilted her head to the side.  "Angelita told me that you would ask me that."

        "Who?" he asked his brow furrowing slightly.

        As the sun shone into her face, Melanie let one single solitary tear flow down her cheek as she swallowed to think of how to tell him who she was. "Who I am is not of concern, but do know that we have been watching you, Sam, and you will be in our prayers to go home."

          He waited but Melanie didn't say anything more, and Sam closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and slowly stood up.   His gaze went, not to Melanie again, but the fading day, looking into the shades of orange, dusky purple and peach colors tinting the sky as the lower edge of the sun began to sink below the horizon.  He looked around...not just standing and looking ahead of him, but slowly turned a full circle, memorizing the intense quiet and beauty and the peacefulness of the meadow, until at last he faced Melanie once more.

         "Why?" he asked simply.

         "You said you needed a day to rest," she answered.  Seeing the memory of that question come back to him, she added, "It appears to have helped."

          "It has," Sam responded.  There was so much more he wanted to ask her but at the same time realized that for now, he had all the answers he was going to get.  He had been given something he asked for and he was grateful for.  And he had a little, tiny fragment of hope to hold on to.  In the next heartbeat, however, Sam felt a familiar tingling tugging deep inside and knew his respite was over.

          "Time to go," he said softly.  He saw Melanie nod her head, barely hearing her soft, "God bless, Sam," before he relaxed as he was taken by the bright blue flash of light.

           Melanie didn't move, instead, turning toward the 'clunk-shoom' sound and the rectangle of bright white light that suddenly appeared several feet beyond where Sam had been standing.  She wasn't surprised or startled by what, or rather who, she saw.

Al stepped through the Imaging Chamber door in a bright yellow long sleeved shirt and black pants on, more than a little irritated with the personnel that he worked with.  "Yeah, right... 'I promise', he said, 'it'll be fixed before Sam leaps'... right.  He's already leaped," Al murmured to himself as he let the door close behind him.  It was then that he turned without looking before him and did a complete circle.  "Sam?" he called out then saw the woman standing on a blanket in the middle of a meadow. 

Ignoring her, he cupped his hand to his mouth and turned slowly in a circle once more as he called out to his friend once more.  "Sam!  Come on out of hiding buddy!  Sam!"

        Melanie grinned at him and took two steps toward him while his back was turned.  It was then that she leaned slightly toward him and said, "He's not here, Al."

        Hearing, "He's not here, Al," from a grown woman that wasn't supposed to be able to see him, was just about the catalyst to give him a major heart attack.  For a moment, Al just stood there, his hand still cupped near his mouth, his eyes as big as saucers.  After a minute, during which his lungs prickled, reminding him to breathe, he slowly, as if in slow motion, began to shake his head from side to side.  "Nah, nah, nah... can't be," he muttered under his breath.  He forced himself not to turn around and run when the woman moved a couple of steps closer.  His head shaking became a little faster as he glanced at the woman, then around him as if expecting...perhaps hoping?... that Sam was somehow pulling a humdinger of a practical joke on him.  Or maybe it was Ziggy getting back at him for his 'welcome back' comment.

        "Ziggy!" he shouted, unaware that he had taken a couple of steps backward. "This isn't funny!  I'm sorry, okay?"  But Ziggy didn't reply.  The one who had spoken to him, however, did as she walked directly toward him, stopping about three feet in front of him.  For the life of him, Al couldn't think of anything to say for what seemed forever.  But at last words found their way out of his mouth.

        "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, keeping a firm grip on the handlink, his right index finger poised over the button that when punched would bring the Imaging Chamber back in a second.

        Melanie understood Al's suspicions and his unadmitted heebie jeebies, and smiled at him.  "A friend," she responded.

        Al repeated the question he called out to Sam, slightly altered.  "Where's Sam?"

        "Gone."  She waited patiently for his remaining questions.

        The Observer had never in his life felt more like there was a real boogieman standing behind him than at this moment, but he refused to give into that notion and fired another question at the woman.

        "Is he okay?  And why was he here?" he demanded.

        Melanie sensed the summoning as she answered Al's question.  Smiling calmly at him, she answered, "Sam is fine.  As for why he was here," she looked around at the meadow then back to Al.  "He just needed a day off to rest."  

        Al couldn't have moved at that moment if his life had depended on it as he watched the lovely young woman slowly fade before his eyes.  "Oh my God," he whispered then blinked and found himself standing not in the meadow but alone in the Imaging Chamber.    He looked slowly around before finally moving toward the door.  As he walked slowly down the ramp, he heard St. John ask, "Admiral, what happened?  Is Dr. Beckett alright?"

        Instead of answering immediately, the Observer paused at the foot of the ramp leading up to the Imaging Chamber and just stared through the still open door and wondered again at what he had seen...and heard.

        "Sam's...fine," he said slowly then added under his breath.  "I think."

EPILOGUE

        Doctor Sam Beckett had leaped.

It was a process that had been done so many times before that his awareness of it had become a mental reflex reaction; on his way again, he knew, journeying along a string that took him to wherever… and whenever.  It was amazing to him that one thing, the realization of Leaping, always stood out in front of all the thoughts and images that flashed before him.

Of all the memories that he could remember, the sensation of Leaping out into the blue void was one he always looked forward to and embraced.  It made sense to the Leaper that the blue emptiness served as a cocoon, a womb that sustained him in an attempt to prepare him for what would lie ahead.

The Leaper knew that he would eventually arrive at his destination, someplace where he could leave the blue void and make a destiny of his own - a place he knew vaguely as “Home”.

‘Home! It wasn’t fair!’ Sam knew that he had been “Home” before in more than one sense of the word.  Dimly, his consciousness recalled a time he returned as his teenage self to the farm of his boyhood home in Elk Ridge, Indiana.  An instant later, his mind remembered being “Home” in Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico.  He recalled there being a woman waiting for him, but he couldn’t remember her name.  All he could picture was himself donning a Fermi suit and entering the Accelerator.

‘Accelerator!? Why the hell can I remember that and not the woman who haunts me every time I’m between Leaps?  And why do I instantly forget her the minute I leave the blue void?’

Doctor Beckett constantly dreamed of coming “Home” once again.  Even in that bodiless state, floating in the void, he could still piece together the small amount of thoughts contained in his swiss-cheesed mind.  ‘I’ve saved enough lives haven’t I?  Changed enough history for the better?  Made the world a better place?’  Sam had his own life to lead without trying to live through the lives of others.  This Leaping business was growing tiresome and he wanted to put an end to it.  Although he had been lucky many times before, he still had to remind himself that eventually there would come a time when failure to successfully complete a Leap would result in permanent exile in the past.  Sam’s link to the present, Admiral Al Calavicci, would say that success had nothing to do with leaping.  Sam was starting to think otherwise.

‘What if God or Fate or Time gives up on me?  What if I am just a toy, something of amusement that has become boring and obsolete?’  But Sam knew that there was a key out there that would allow him to control his own destiny.  He needed to find it soon.  His chance to return “Home” seemed to be getting slimmer with each Leap.

Suddenly, a familiar sense of euphoria struck him full force.  It was time once again to emerge from the blue void.  Time to hope that once again he would be “Home” with his friends and family.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam Beckett prayed…

It seemed like forever until Sam was able to figure out anything regarding his surroundings.  The first thing he realized was that he was lying in a small trench two feet deep.  His throat was immensely dry and his mouth was full of sand.  After a few poor attempts, he managed to spit some of it out.  Finally, with a certain degree of exertion, Sam brought himself to an upright position in the trench.

Heat and swirling wind hit him in a one-two attack.  The sand kicked up by the swirling breeze made it very hard to see.  Squinting his eyes against the sand and brilliant sun, Doctor Beckett barely managed to see what was all around him.  It didn’t take a genius like Dr. Beckett to realize he was in the middle of a desert.

‘This desert reminds me of a place that I’ve been to before, the Leaper thought to himself.  A base in the middle of a desert…in New…Mexico?  Yeah, that’s right!  A desert in New Mexico.  The place where Project Quantum Leap was located.  Am I “Home”?’

But Sam knew he wasn’t “Home”, not if he was outside in the desert.  His final Leap would be back inside the Waiting Room as himself at Project Quantum Leap Headquarters.  Besides, the sweaty clothes of old green military fatigues were not part of the uniform he had worn upon entering the Accelerator.  He wasn’t “Home” by a long shot, but he did feel terribly lonely.  With a lot of effort, Sam climbed out of the ditch, amazed by how tired he suddenly felt.

“Hello!” he screamed, knowing that he had made a mistake.  His dry throat was now worse than ever and his lungs ached as though he was gasping for air.

As if in answer, a gigantic loudspeaker, set some distance away shouted, “…Forty-five seconds…” The noise startled Sam and continued to do so as the voice echoed and finally died away.

Another noise startled Sam.  It was a familiar whooshing sound.  It could only mean one thing and it brought a sigh of relief from the Leaper.

“Sam!” a rasping voice addressed him frantically.  “Thank God we were able to lock on to you.  Sam, you gotta listen to me…”

“Al?” The Leaper’s voice cracked.  It was almost impossible to speak.  He turned in time to see his friend Al Calavicci, dressed in a bright teal suit, walk through the Imaging Chamber Door.  It closed behind Al with another whoosh.  Oddly enough, Sam noticed that the Door closed in an unusual way that seemed to shake Al up.

Sam could tell that his friend was in a hurry.  The Hologram had a look of horrific urgency on his face that made Sam’s skin crawl.  Maybe this would be a dangerous but fast Leap.

“Sam, I really don’t have time to explain.” The Admiral was talking in his military voice, barking orders to Sam like a new recruit.  The Leaper knew to trust his partner. Al continued, shielding his eyes from the image of the hot desert sun, “Ziggy says there is a ditch around here.  Get in it, NOW!!”

Sam nodded, suddenly overcome by a coughing fit.  The winds were starting to pick up now as Sam barely heard the loudspeaker shout again.

“…Thirty seconds…”

Putting his hands to his eyes to block out the gritty sand particles, Sam made his way to the ditch.  Al was pointing at the ditch and shouting.  The Admiral’s hand movements, especially the one holding the lit cigar, made Sam want to scream for Al to tell him what was going on.  Suddenly, Sam noticed something cylindrical off in the distance, standing upright behind Al.  The object seemed to stretch from the ground to the sky.  Quickly, a memory of an old history class lesson came to him -- images of soldiers sitting out in deserts waiting for explosions from a distance away to embrace them.  Soldiers that were part of experiments in nuclear weapons testing…and then it hit Sam what the object was…

‘Oh my God, it’s a bomb!!!’

“…Twenty seconds…”

Sam panicked, thinking of what his options were.  There was no time to plan an escape route.  The desert seemed to stretch around him for miles.  As tired as he was now feeling, running at top speed, the desert would surely claim him if the blast didn’t first.  One tiny thought pushed its way to the front of Sam’s mind: ‘Get in that ditch!!!’

Out of the corner of his eye, the Leaper saw Al race to where the Imaging Chamber Door should have been located.  After hurriedly tapping a few buttons on the handlink, Al cursed under his breath before yelling, “Edward!!! Open the Door!!!”  After a pause, yelled again, “What do you mean it’s jammed?! Open it!”  Another pause, then, “Then center me somewhere else away from here….Edward!”  Sam could hear the intense nervousness in his friend’s voice.

           “…Ten seconds…”

           Quickly, Al ran back to Sam.  “I can’t break off the visual link or leave the Imaging Chamber.”  With that, Al threw himself on the ground, or rather the floor of the Imaging Chamber, and buried his face in his arms.  Al wasn’t physically there, but because of the neural link with Sam inside the Imaging Chamber, he was forced to see and hear what Sam was about to experience, and Al didn’t want to be near what was about to happen.

        By reflex, Sam threw himself into the ditch and covered his face with his arms.  “OH, GOD!!!” he screamed just as the countdown reached its conclusion, resulting in a tremendous explosion, a searing red light, tremendous amounts of heat, and powerful gusts of wind.

        Sam didn’t notice that just as the blinding flash of the explosion occurred, the image of Al on the desert floor vanished.  The Leaper was too busy trying to hear himself over the noise of the hell that was enveloping him, and failing to hear his screams.