Washington D.C.
Monday, September 4, 2000

     Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep. Five a.m. struck loudly on the man's 
clock radio,
beckoning him awake. He moaned, his intentions more set on going back to 
sleep, but reluctantly pushed his tired body out of bed. Feet dragging on the 
floor, he went to the bathroom and familiarly passed his hand over the smooth 
glowing surface of the light sensor pad on the wall. The lights slowly came 
up. He let out a blaring yawn and looked down at the sink. The faucet had no 
handles to turn on hot or cold, but instead had an infrared sensor. He placed 
his hands under the spout and a perfect temperature of water flowed out of the 
sterile chrome. He splashed the pleasantly warm liquid onto his gray stubbled 
face. Blinking, the man looked up and studied his exhausted self in the large 
mirror over the sink. He lived alone, had no family to care for and constantly 
thought he was just another tired old man with a job that seemed to be winding 
down faster than the US government itself.
     He thought groggily to himself, I could take another day off work and 
stay home, but I've
already taken leave for three days. That doesn't set well with the government. 
My desk is
probably piled up already. And I do have to go over the last few daily reports 
from the  top
secret' projects, et cetera, et cetera. Of course, nothing's ever new. Some 
scientist is supposedly lost in time and another is investigating the UFO that 
they claim  landed' last week. Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. Sometimes it 
really stinks to be a US senator.
     The senator did his standard morning routine and after showering, 
returned to his room to
dress in a usual senator ensemble. Still shaking away sleep, the senator 
slipped on his large
glasses. He walked the short distance to the kitchen with sleepy, stone-like 
eyes hidden behind the thick, tinted lenses. He quickly put together some 
instant coffee. Finally, he headed out the door to report to the Capital of 
the United States.
     Upon arriving, he went directly up to the third floor where his office 
was located. 
     "Good morning, Mary," He greeted his secretary with a nod, "Any mail?"
     "Yes, Mr. Harrison. It's on your desk." 
     "Thank you." he said with a bland tone of gratitude. He walked inside his 
office, into the
room in which he performs his typical everyday business. Everything seemed to 
be routine-like
these days and nothing never changed.
     His office was nicely furnished with a cherry wood furniture. Desk, 
chairs even the cabinet
that extended the height of the wall to the right of his desk matched 
perfectly. The plush green
carpeting beneath his feet muffled the sounds of his footsteps as he walked 
towards his work area. Half of the wall to the right consisted of a small bar 
complete with crystal glasses and various liquors. Jack Daniel's was always 
there awaiting him on those hard, long days, and when he had guests or 
compulsory meetings. Over to the left of the desk was a television and a VCR. 
In front of his desk there sat two massive brown leather chairs. 
     He sat down at his chair behind his desk and examined the ever-running 
computer in front
of him. He typed in a fairly long code to the pentagon. He waited until the 
screen brightened with a picture model of the actual pentagon. Then he typed 
in two other simpler codes that he and another senator shared. He let out a 
sigh and read the numerous bulletins that appeared on the screen. He read down 
the list of news, some of which was old or tedious. All but one. Leaning 
forward, he swept his glasses off his face, his mouth open with astonishment. 
"Holy shit!!"

Project Quantum Leap
Stallion's Gate, New Mexico
Monday, September 4, 2000

     Everything was peacefully quiet in the sterile halls of the Project. In 
the Beckett
household, though, someone was definitely not a happy camper. Baby Jonathan 
Beckett was quite awake, the infant's screams cutting through the stillness of 
slumber. Donna and Sam lay tranquilly in bed holding each other when they both 
awoke from a captivating sleep.
     "Sam," Donna moaned, "your son is screaming."
     "This early in the morning he's yours." Sam stated in a fatigued tone, 
not opening his eyes.
     Donna sighed and got to her feet to fetch their little bundle of joy and 
a bottle of formula
from the refrigerator. She quietly came back into the room cradling their son 
with one arm and a
warm bottle of milk in the other hand. She set the bottle on the night stand 
beside her side of the
bed and carefully slipped under the covers, still holding Little Jonathan. Sam 
was sound asleep,
laying on his side when all of a sudden he was forced awake by his very 
intimidating wife. As
restless as he was to awaken, he moaned and rolled over, avoiding any possible 
     His spouse scolded him, "Sam, wake up this instant! You have to get used 
to this
sometime. Remember, your daddy now." 
     Sam didn't really relish the thought of getting into any family quarrels, 
so he obliged to
Donna's demand and slowly sat up. Yawning, he rubbed at the remains of the 
sleeping spell that
was cast upon his eyes and looked in Donna's direction. She answered the 
annoyed look in his
eyes by returning it with a rueful one of her own, and unexpectedly the cranky 
infant "magically"
appeared in Sam's arms. After that, a rather warm bottle was handed to him. 
Donna propped
herself up on one elbow and waited.
     Sam looked from his son, to the bottle, to expecting eyes. Now what? He 
had never done
this before. Reconsidering, he decided that there was never going to be a 
better time to start
learning. Sam held the bottle in his hand and looked down at his son. Then as 
gingerly as he
could, as if afraid to make a mistake, he tipped the bottle and got the nipple 
passed the baby's
gums. It turned out that Johnny truly was hungry. Sam smiled as he came to 
realize that he was
holding his son. The one he hadn't known he had. 
     "Isn't he beautiful?" Donna asked, noticing Sam's reaction.
     "He certainly is." He answered wistfully. Donna caught woe in her 
husband's voice and
was concerned.
     "What's wrong?" She asked. 
     Sam sighed. "When was he born?"
     "June 10. Why?"
     "Is this what Al did when I wasn't here?"
     "Well, Sam," Donna started explaining gently, "He helped very much. He 
knew you would be coming back. We all did. It was just in the meantime that he 
helped me look after John. It was difficult at first." She fell silent. For a 
moment, neither said a word to each other and all that was heard was the 
couple's child, feeding hungrily on the bottle.
     "I'm sorry." Sam stated finally, "I should have been here for you when 
our son was born. I
shouldn't have left."
     "Sam, you did what needed to be done. You did what you felt you had to 
do. What we all
felt you had to do. You saved Admiral Albert Calavicci's life, remember? You 
knew it wouldn't
have been right if you let him die last year. Besides, I knew in my heart that 
you would come back home to me." That was all that was said.
     Sam gazed into the infant's eyes, identical to his own, and saw how they 
sparkled with
wisdom and intelligence. The characteristics made Sam feel very proud and 
content. Right now,
his son was definitely not much from head to toe, but Sam knew he would grow 
up to become an important man. Perhaps one that could take on a large Project 
like Quantum Leap. But right now, Sam simply enjoyed the stage of infancy 
while he could. He smiled to himself and then to his wife.

     Infinite metallic hallways at the complex all looked the same. One after 
the other, counting
the archways, Al Calavicci made his way to the Project cafeteria. Normally he 
would just make
something of his own in his small kitchen;  toast, eggs, maybe even an omelet. 
Today, though, he
couldn't stand the isolation of his apartment and wanted to socialize and talk 
to someone; Sam in particular. Alas, being that it was his first night home, 
Al thought it best that Sam spend some
valuable time with his new family. So instead of waiting in the loneliness of 
his room, he chose his only other alternative. To mingle with the other 
members of the Project staff.
     The Admiral turned the last corner and came upon a closed door. It 
automatically opened,
splitting in the center, to omit him into the Project cafeteria. The fairly 
plain room had long
stretching tables that ran the length of the room. About half of them were 
full. Al went to the
glass counter to the right of the entrance and began to choose the ready-made 
breakfast that he
would eat. He decided on a waffle topped with strawberries and syrup, then 
filled a mug with
seeming black coffee. The only way to wake up around here, he thought.
     Al turned around to look for "the little group," and found them on the 
opposite end of the
dining room (if it could in fact it could be called that). Al crossed the room 
with casual, easy
strides and took a seat next to Verbena Beeks.
     She flashed a bright smile his way, "Good morning, Al. Isn't it a lovely 
morning? Nice and
calm . . . mentally stable."
     Al returned her smile with one of his own. 

     The ensign stepped out of the helicopter after the long ride from 
Washington. There was a
guard there waiting for him. "I have a message for Admiral Calavicci and Dr. 
Beckett that I need to hand deliver immediately. Would you be so kind as to 
escort me to either one of them?"
     The guard nodded, not wanting to waste his breath screaming over the loud 
hum of the
flying vehicle. Then led the way to the entrance of the Project.
     When they were both inside the complex, the ensign was seated on a sofa 
as Ziggy was
asked to summon the Admiral.

     "Sam we have to report to the Pentagon in two days. They found out that 
you're back and
they have questions." Al said while alone with Sam in his living room. Donna 
was in Johnny's
room rocking him to sleep for his much needed nap.
     Sam sat down on the couch and asked what time tomorrow the plane would 
pick them up.
     "Some time around ten or eleven, I think. The guy didn't give me an exact 
time. But Sam,
from the tone in that ensigns voice, they're really serious. We're going to 
get a hotel room before
the meeting, so we'll have some time to prepare ourselves before facing black 
death." Then Al
took a puff from his cigar and blew smoke  away from Sam.
     Sam was thinking, how the hell am I going to explain things I don't even 
remember? But
he said, "all right. Then we better get ready. What type of things are they 
going to ask me. . . and you? I don't remember anything. Well, except for 
leaping home a year ago."
     Al blew out another stream of smoke, "I don't know what they have in 
store for us. God
knows we've been though enough."
     "Yeah, well. . .A hotel suite, huh? Something must be going on. Do they 
even believe that
I've traveled in time?"
     Al made a doubtful face, "Good question. Since you leaped they have been 
asking me
where you really are. Maybe they'll want proof that it did actually happen."
     Donna walked in then, "You two better get moving if you're going to leave 
she let out a sigh. "I'll pray that it goes well."

     At exactly 9:30 p.m. they boarded the plane and took off. They were to 
anticipate a four
and a half hour flight. The thought of the long flight made Sam feel 
practically air sick. He never
did much like long flights.
     The plane was nice on the inside and almost homey. There were two small 
rows of seats
and a conference area in the front of the plane (The conference area was 
really just a bunch of
seats that faced each other) where Al and Sam sat. The windows had small 
lovely teal curtains
hanging beside them.
     After a while of silence Al spoke, "Sam during the meeting, I don't want 
you to get mad
at them or anything. Remember what happened the last time you blew up at 
     Reverse Swiss-Cheese effect kicked in. "Yeah, I remember. They weren't 
very happy."
     "To put it lightly." Al couldn't help himself and began to chuckle. The 
look on
Wietzman's face had been priceless. "In case you forgot I've been telling them 
for a while that
GodFateTime or Whatever has been in charge of your leaps. And the Retrieval 
Program hasn't
been working, so that's why you came home. It was your time."
     Sam sighed, "Yeah, I have to fix that thing." Sam leaned his head back, 
bumping his head
on the wall behind him. "Ow. Do we have to go, Daddy?"
     Al huffed, " 'Fraid so, son."
     Sam grinned, "You know that Retrieval Program does need a lot of work I'm 
going to
start to work on it as soon as we get home. And then there's the Accelerator 
that needs some
adjustments. Then I need to update some of Ziggy's data and programs. Then 
there's Johnny to
think about . . .there sure is a lot to do." Sam was now getting tired just 
thinking about all that
needed to be done. Amazing, he thought, so much to do and I've only been here 
a few days.
     Al watched Sam's face. "Down boy!"
      That statement interrupted Sam's thoughts and made him look up at the 
smirking face of
his best friend.
     Shrugging his shoulders Al asked,  "What?"
     They landed at exactly 2:00 New Mexico time, which is 4:00 Washington 
time. When they
stepped off  the aircraft, there was a limousine there awaiting their arrival. 
The driver, 'Fred, just
Fred', was an extremely quiet man. He introduced himself, opened the door for 
them both, and
tranquilly drove the two of them to the hotel anticipated.
     Upon arriving to the complementary hotel Suite, Sam opened the door took 
a step inside
and held the door open so Al could enter. It was a nice room. The carpet was a 
light peach that
matched the bedspreads of two queen beds. Separating the beds was a single 
night stand which
held a lamp, alarm-radio and a  Welcome' note. There was a round table with 
two chairs on either side, in the corner by the window with hanging peach 
vertical blinds. Across from the beds was a cherry amour complete with a 
television set. Beside the amour there was a short long dresser that was also 
of cherry wood. Then above it what appeared to be a long hexagonal sheet of 
steel. Beside the door was a hallway which led to a bathroom and a sink, then 
a bar with a small refrigerator beneath it.
     Al walked over to the bed and sat down. He let out a sigh and opened the 
top drawer in
the night stand.
     "Al, look at the fruit basket. It's huge." Sam said, vaguely surprised. 
He couldn't
remember the last time the government had taken such drastic measures to see 
to their comfort.
     "Yeah, nice." Al said taking out the standard bible out of the drawer and 
flipping though
the pages. He looked very focused on what he was doing, and the tone in his 
voice caught Sam's attention.
     "Al what are you doing? Do you plan to pray for deliverance from God and 
success for
this stupid meeting?"
     "No, I'm looking for a twenty." Al stated. That truly confused Sam. "I 
once found one in
one of these things."
     Sam stared at him momentarily, "Okay." then went over to curiously peak 
into the bar to
see what was in it. "And look, there's a little refrigerator, Al. One of those 
really little ones that
you open with the little key."
     While Sam spoke Al had gotten to his feet, finding nothing in the 
good-for-nothing bible,
and walked over to the crystal vase full of flowers that was on top of the 
dresser. Al touched one of the petals and began to remember one of his few 
happy memories before the war had changed him.
     He quietly opened the door to their room, but it creaked, giving him 
away. The women at
the dressing table wearing tight jeans and a sweater that made her look 
extremely sexy, turned to look at him. Her smile was radiant and genuine. She 
raised a graceful hand to push back shining black hair that had fallen in her 
     "Welcome home, Al." she said as she stood up and went to him, wrapping 
her arms
around his neck. "I missed you awfully today."
     God she smelled good! He kissed her and brought his hand out from behind 
his back. He
had brought flowers home for her tonight, to make up for the past week that he 
hadn't been able
to come home until she was already in bed; asleep.
     She took the flowers from him and looked down at them. "My favorite." she 
for what must have been the two thousandth time since they had met. "Thank 
     He kissed her deeply, expressing all his inner feelings toward the angel 
in his arms. "I
love you."
     Pulling back, and storing the precious memory, Al sadly stated, "Calla 
Lilies were Beth's
favorite." Sam did nothing and Al turned around to face him. "You know, my 
fifth wife hated
Calla Lilies, or was it my fourth?" Al took a cigar out of his coat pocket and 
lit it up.
     "It could have been my third . . ." Al seemed to be trying very hard to 
remember that small
     He looked up with perked eyebrows, "Huh?"
     "Uh, nothing. . . But, we only have two hours before we have to leave. So 
we should get
     Al didn't answer to that statement, and turned around to gaze into the 
sheet of steel upon
the wall. Less than a second later within the steel, it seemed to swirl and 
move. Then, as if it had
always been so, it converted into a spotless, self-cleaning mirror. 
     Al ran his hand through his too curly (in his opinion) black hair, then 
turned around to
once again survey the room. "It looks like a poodle threw up in here."
     Sam nodded in agreement, "Yeah, a big  peach one."


Okay, okay. Patients is a virtue. Keep this in mind for the next month or so.