CHAPTER TWO 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 disturbances. 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 tomorrow." 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 them?" 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 eyes. "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 exclaimed for what must have been the two thousandth time since they had met. "Thank you." 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. "Al?" "It could have been my third . . ." Al seemed to be trying very hard to remember that small detail. "Al?" He looked up with perked eyebrows, "Huh?" "Uh, nothing. . . But, we only have two hours before we have to leave. So we should get ready." 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. Carol