No Man A Hero

Warnings and Disclaimers: None of the characters are mine except the barbarian hoards in scene three (Just kidding). If you are disturbed by explicit homosexuality, now would be a good time to leave.

No man is a hero to his valet.

There was always a moment of terror when he leaped. As the blueness faded, he might be in the path of a kiss or a punch, and he had no way of knowing until it was too late. This time the blue didn’t fade, it clarified. He was on his hands and knees on a shiny metal floor, his body clothed in a clingy, white jumpsuit. He trembled, afraid to move without more data.

Hands touched his shoulders and back, urging him to stand. His body was shaking. Why was he so tired? The room felt too sharp, too clear, his senses overloaded. His body felt wrong, too sensitive and responsive to his thoughts.

He heard a woman’s voice. “It’s all right, you’re safe. I’ll explain what’s going on as soon as you let me check your pulse. Do you remember your name?”

His throat closed up. “Beena?” he whimpered.

The hands shook for a second, then turned him around almost violently to look at the woman’s face. “Sam?”

Sam hunched inward, his body shaking irrationally. “Why am I here? Where’s Al?”

“Al’s in the Imaging Chamber, waiting for instructions.” She spoke into a comm link on her jacket. “Al? Calavicci, get in here now!” She turned back to Sam. “It’s all right. You’re home. You’re Sam Beckett.” She pulled his resisting body over to the bench, made him sit down just as the door opened.

Sam watched the far door slide open, and a man he knew better than he knew his own face walked in wearing a strawberry red suit and a striped green tie. His expression was worried, but the man managed to maintain his composure until Sam hurried over to him on trembling legs and asked in a low, shaky tone, “Why am I here, Al? What’s going on?”

Al stared into Sam’s eyes, his disbelief naked on his face. “Sam? You…” He threw his arms around Sam and laughed with joy. “We did it! You’re home! I can’t believe it!”

Sam didn’t return the hug; he just kept looking around the Waiting Room with frantic eyes. “No, this is wrong. Why am I here?”

Dr. Beeks slipped back instantly into her official role. “It’s all right, Sam. I realize that this must be very strange for you, but I promise, everything is all right. How much do you remember?” She fussed over him, checking the pulse in his neck and wrist, lifting his eyelids to check his pupils.

Sam pulled away from them, tried to collect himself. “Why am I so weak and tired?”

“You’re back in your own body for the first time in five years. I’m afraid it’s not always easy to get the people you leap into to eat and sleep while they’re here, which takes its toll. You should be fine after a few days of rest,” Verbena explained. “Would you like something to eat?”

Sam was hyperventilating, panicking. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. His heart was racing; it was hard to catch a breath. Why was he so out of control? “Yes. Moussaka and coffee. Where is everyone?”

“They’re outside, Sam,” said Al. “They don’t know yet. All they know is that Ziggy’s going crazy and won’t talk to them.”

The Greek restaurant twenty miles away hadn’t closed down after all his leaps, thank God. Tina went to pick up the order while the rest of the team crowded around to congratulate him and ask if he needed anything. Just when Tina arrived with the food, Donna walked in, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, clothes rumpled.

As soon as he saw Donna, Sam switched from confused and dazed to razor-sharp and focused. He stood up and murmured, “Donna?” She ran into his arms, and he held her tight. “I promise I’ll never leave you again,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m here. I love you.” He could feel her tears soaking his jumpsuit. He knew what he was here for. Donna needed him.

Al watched Sam eat while Verbena cleared the others out. He was a little upset, though he hadn’t shown it. Though Sam had greeted everyone enthusiastically, from the junior techs to Ziggy herself, he’d avoided Al like a leper. Right now the genius scientist was trying to get caught up with Donna between huge bites of moussaka. Tina’s instincts had been correct; she’d brought three or four portions of the dish, and it looked like there wouldn’t be leftovers. Some things never changed, Al supposed.

Verbena touched Al’s shoulder. “We need to talk,” she murmured. “Come into my office for a minute.” Reluctantly, he let her pull him down the hall, still watching Sam hold Donna.

Verbena closed the door behind them. “Take a seat, Al.” She motioned for him to sit in the overstuffed armchair by the painting of an ocean sunset. Al sat down. He hated that chair, but he was used to it. He and Verbena had been doing daily sessions for quite some time. “I noticed how upset you were out there. I’d wait a while before taking Sam’s behavior to heart. Right now you’re the symbol of everything he’s fought so hard to escape. You’re his best friend, but right now he looks at you and sees The Project. Give him some time to reassure himself that this world isn’t going anywhere.”

Al looked down at his shoes. Bright green leather. “What if he doesn’t ever want anything to do with me? What if he wants to forget the whole thing, go home and milk cows?”

Verbena touched Al’s hand. “We’ve talked about this, Al. Sam pulled you out of the gutter. He believed in you. But you have to believe in yourself. You have to stop living for him and start living for yourself.”

Bright green leather that could use some polish. Al focused on that, fought down his feelings. “I can’t. Not yet. He … I need to see how he is, who he is, before I throw in the towel.”

Verbena considered that a moment. “When are you going to tell him?”

Al closed his eyes at the secret shame, the reason he’d come to Verbena so long ago, begging for help before he destroyed himself and Sam. “I don’t know. Maybe never.”

“He has a right to know, Al. And a secret like that won’t keep forever.”

Al couldn’t look at her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Donna unlocked the door and let Sam into the house with a shy smile. “We can go into town and get you some new keys in the morning, Sam.”

Sam looked around the small, bright room. “I don’t remember this.”

The living room was decorated in a Southwestern style, with Mexican throws over white futons, a sisal rug on the wood floor, and wall-to-wall bookcases. He walked over to the bookcases and saw The Complete Works of Sir Thomas More propping up a photo of the entire Quantum Leap staff laughing. The only one missing was Tina; the picture dated from before Al met her. Sam fingered the picture, pulled the book out of the shelf. The inside cover was inscribed. ‘To Sam, it was a joy having you in my class. Your arguments brought the semester to life. Please remember that while one voice can change the universe, our imperfect world does not suffer saints gladly. Always, Professor John Morgan.’

Donna twisted her fingers. “I had to move to the on-site housing to work on the Project, and I couldn’t keep both houses on one salary and still have enough in savings if … if they pulled the plug.” She looked up, her eyes pleading. “I had to send some of your things back to your mother to fit the rest in here, but I kept everything I thought you’d--”

“My toothbrush is in the bathroom,” Sam interrupted as he peeked through the bathroom door. “You kept my toothbrush for five years?” The house was bizarre, both completely alien and a shrine to him. Or to a Sam who had existed at one point. After five years of amnesia, Sam doubted he was still that person. He stepped into the dark bedroom. One of his mother’s quilts was spread over the bed, but he couldn’t ever remember sleeping with it. He didn’t know why, but he thought he could smell Al’s cigars in the air. Everything seemed out of place. Tomorrow he would take a day off and clean out this house, redecorate, and figure out which of his things he wanted. He turned to tell Donna and stopped at the nervous pleasure in her eyes. She’d worked so hard to make a home here for him. “It’s great, Donna. Thanks. It’s good to be home again.”

At three in the morning, Tina shook Al awake. “There’s someone at the door, Al.” He could see she had no intention of answering it herself. He rubbed a hand over his face and pulled on a pair of boxers, then lurched towards the source of the endless door chime. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Dr. Elesee in a skirt and sweatshirt, her hair tumbled about her shoulders. “Donna?”

“I, ah, we need to talk, Al,” she finally managed. “Look, Sam’s home now, and--”

“I know. Well, congratulations.”

Tina called from the bedroom, “Who is it, Al?”

“It’s Dr. Elesee. Go back to sleep.” He stepped outside and carefully closed the door, already on guard against what she might say. He shivered in his boxers; the desert was cold at night. “How is he?”

“He’s exactly the same. Just as eager, just as driven. He’s exhausted, but he’s back. He’s himself, and he’s back for good.”

Warning lights went off in Al’s brain, ones he couldn’t quite identify. “Exactly the same?”

She grinned and blushed. “Four times in one night. It used to be once a week. But aside from that, it’s the same smile, the same eyes, it’s him, Al.”

“I see.” The warning lights were still going off, he would have to talk to Verbena later. “Don’t say anything, all right? I know what you’re going to say. It’s … for the best. Go home.”

She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. But…”

He nodded quietly. “Go.” He watched her walk back to the house she now shared with Sam. Then he turned back to discover that Tina had locked him out. It was going to be a long night.

The next morning, Al found Sam and Ziggy working together in the lab. Sam had the unfortunate habit of programming directly in binary, which had made it hard to reconstruct his notes when he first disappeared into the Accelerator.

“What’s going on?” Al asked. “Sam, lawyers don’t get up this early.”

“Just upgrading and making adjustments. She’s being difficult.” Sam’s fingers tapped the keyboard swiftly even as he talked. “You wanted something?”

“Did you sit down with Verbena yet?” Al shifted from one foot to the other, feeling like an annoyed teacher had called him up to the front of the classroom. Sam had never been curt or dismissive.

“I saw her.”

“And?” Al pressed.

“What do you want?”

Al had never heard his friend’s voice so cold and efficient, even back in the days before his first leap, when they were both up to their ears in programming, tests, and meetings. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to cringe. Admirals didn’t cringe. But he did many things admirals weren’t supposed to do. A worm of fear crawled through his belly, and the room seemed darker and smaller. “Now that you’re not leaping, are you going to continue the project?”

“I don’t know.” Sam continued typing. “Ziggy, display that on a 98 character grid and alternate by one to the left.” He looked at the display. “All right, I think we’re ready for the next step. Switch to three-dimensional trellis and let me cut and paste. Al, I really need to concentrate on this.”

“Right.” As Al walked out the door, he paused a moment, threw out a line in desperation. “Tina moved out last night. She’s sleeping with Gooshie.”

“Mm. Sorry to hear that.” He didn’t even look up.

Had Donna told Sam? Was that why he was so cold? “Sam? Are you angry with me about something?”

Sam moved his fingers over the holographic trellis, indicating where he wanted to cut and paste the data, deleting and adding fragments with twitches of his fingers. “Why would Sam be angry with you?” The tone was flat, just short of hostile.

“Just asking. Say hi to Donna for me.”

He hurried over to Verbena’s office, desperate for a friendly ear. He discovered Verbena in a purple business suit, cleaning up the remains of her office. Papers were scattered on the floor, stained with coffee from a shattered mug. The hated armchair was broken and twisted, and there was a large hole in the wall with spider webs of tension trailing from it. “What happened here?” Al demanded.

“Come on in, Al. I was actually about to call you.” She picked up the broken armchair and hauled it out into the corridor. “I would have dealt with the mess sooner, but I wanted to finish writing up my notes.”

“Sam did this?” Al asked.

“He’s going through a lot at the moment. I actually wanted to ask you how he seems to you.”

“He’s a nozzle,” Al growled, “He’s cold and nasty and Donna thinks everything is just great.” He remembered something suddenly. “He called himself Sam. I almost didn’t notice it.”

Verbena nodded. “That fits with what I’ve seen. He says his personality is fragmented. He thinks that scraps of the personalities and memories he’s merged with are still in his head. There’s never been a case like Sam’s before; I don’t know how much of this is real and how much is psychological disorder, and misdiagnosing him will make the problem much worse. One way or another, he’s compartmentalized every thought and feeling he has into one of their identities; it could take years to unravel it. Worse yet, he’s treating being home as just another leap, and he was never good at admitting his own needs during the leaps. I think he’s done this so he won’t have to deal with how much he’s changed, and how deeply he may have been traumatized. I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but doctor-patient confidentiality ends by law when I think he could harm himself or others.”

Al looked around the ruined office. “You think he’s dangerous?”

“To himself. He has to start admitting that his darker feelings are real and are his, or this could get worse.”

“Do you think we should stop him from working on the project?” Al asked, trying to frame some course of action.

“Ziggy’s already done that. She lets him load data but won’t let him implement it. She’s trying to keep one step ahead of him. She’s scared of what he might do.” Verbena clasped Al’s hands within her own. “I know you’re going through a lot right now, but I think you need to understand this. He needs you right now. I don’t know yet what will happen, but you’re the focus of a lot of his feelings, both the positive and the negative ones. If they’re going to come out, he needs you to goad him.” She squeezed his hands gently, looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry about Tina.”

Al shrugged. “We all knew it was coming. At least I don’t have to pay alimony.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t care, Al.”

“I have to go. Sam and I have a press conference in half an hour. He wants to get it over with so he can take Donna out to dinner.” He hurried out of the room.

Sam looked around at the seamless blue walls of the waiting room. “You don’t trust me in your office. You even took the table out of here.” He was barefoot, dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and a lab coat, and his streaked hair was neatly brushed back.

“I thought the waiting room would be a good change of setting. For some parts of you, it’s all you’ve known for years.” Verbena sat on the floor, seemingly unconcerned about the lack of furniture.

Sam shook his head and decided to go along. No use throwing a tantrum. Besides, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself in her office either. “I still can’t sleep. If you won’t give me the shots, I’ll prescribe them myself.”

“Give it a little time. You’ve only been back 48 hours or so; it’s natural to have some residual trauma. It was the same dream both times?”

Sam nodded. “When I wake up, all my muscles are locked, even the ones in my throat. I don’t want to suffocate for real.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Donna doesn’t even wake up, because I can’t scream.” He paced a little, and then lay on the floor, resting his chin in his hands. “Remember what I told you yesterday? About…” He forced himself to say it, although he blushed, “about making love to her? Sam…” He sat up and curled his arms around his legs. “Every time Sam touches her, it’s like he’s Al. Not Sam at all. And she doesn’t even notice!” He pounded his hands against the floor, grimacing.

Verbena considered it. “There are two possibilities, and they might both be true. Sam? How would you describe Al?”

“You’re saying I see him as a sex drive?” Sam guessed. “You think I can’t have sex without feeling guilty unless I pretend I’m Al?”

“This might also be just a defense mechanism. You can’t believe you’re home yet, so you don’t want to open up and feel anything. How long has it been since you could really care about someone? Since people used your name in regular conversation? How long has it been since sex and romance weren’t part of a mission, an assignment? I think you’re using Al and the other personalities as masks because for five years the way you’ve coped with change is to bury yourself in someone else’s personality, turn their life into a quest you can complete. You’re not comfortable with owning your own feelings, or with the ambiguity of just living your life. I honestly don’t think the voices are real.”

Sam leapt up and started pacing. “You don’t know anything about it, Beena. No one knows except Ziggy, and she’s so scared she won’t even let me implement the data I’m working on. I don’t even know! It’s all…” He started striking his forehead savagely with his fists. “Get out of my head! Get out of my head!!!”

Verbena hurried over, extending her hands, but he pulled away from her. “Beena, I’m very close to snapping right now, and I don’t think I want anyone touching me. Please.”

She knew what a warning like that meant, coming from a black belt. He watched her back away slowly. “Sam, you have to stop this. You have to stop putting all your feelings into little boxes and giving them names. You have to integrate, or you’ll just keep fragmenting indefinitely.”

“But they’re not parts of me, they’re other people! They don’t belong in there!”

“I admit I don’t understand it, but Sam, if they were really that alien, why did they merge with you in the first place?” Sam paused, and Verbena pressed her advantage. “You can’t go on like this, Sam. Either you have to absorb these other personalities or throw them away.”

Sam closed his eyes and felt the clamoring voices again. He squeezed his fists against his eyes. “Al’s the strongest, probably because of the simo-leap. The others I think I can push down a little, once I get used to them. They aren’t parts of me. They shouldn’t be there. But I don’t think that’ll work for Al.”

Al ripped savagely at his collar, regretting his sequin-studded choice of outfit. The sparkling white suit looked amazing, but it was damned itchy. The week had been nothing but meetings, press conferences, lobbies for funding, and more programming to insure that what happened to Sam would never happen again. Somehow Sam still found time for walks in the desert with Donna, and other things. He also went to daily sessions with Verbena. But somehow there was never enough time for Al, outside of official conferences.

Al finally tracked Sam down in the lab, where he was busy with Gooshie. “We need to talk.”

Sam looked up. “Not now. I’m in the middle of this.”

“Take a hike, Gooshie,” Al ordered. “I’ll handle your part of whatever the two of you are doing.”

Gooshie shook his head. “I’m sorry, Al, but I can’t even take my hands off the keyboard. If you come back in half an hour, we should be at a stopping point.” He gave Al an odd look, then glanced meaningfully at Ziggy and back to Al when Sam wasn’t looking.

Al decided not to argue. There wasn’t really a point, when neither Sam nor Gooshie could pay attention, and there was obviously more going on here than he would know what to do with. He walked down the hall to the imaging chamber and looked around at the blank blue walls. Only a few days ago he was on call, racing to this room at a moment’s notice. It seemed like a century ago. He could remember funneling all of his energy into the project, running home to women and a quick drink, and then fighting sleep for a teleconference with the Pentagon. It hadn’t always been that way. Al could still remember Gooshie’s desperate, terrified voice over the link, and that horrible first moment when Al had looked into the eyes of his best friend and seen a stranger looking back. A stranger who couldn’t even remember his last name, let alone their friendship. A stranger who didn’t have the knowledge and wit that had made Sam who he was.

After that first, awful moment, Al underwent a dramatic change. When he was with Sam, he was almost unbearably cheerful. Everything’s fine, Sam. I’m having a great time at home, and we’re all doing our best to get you back. Why did I take so long to show up? Oh, uh, I was with Tina in the filing room. Yeah, that’s it. I wasn’t on the floor of a public bathroom in Quantico, crying my eyes out because we lost a grant. Everything’s fine. We’ll get you home.

Al hadn’t given Sam a straight answer to a single important question in five years.

He suddenly remembered the glance Gooshie had given first him, then Ziggy, as though he were signaling. “Ziggy?”

“Yes, Al?”

“What are Gooshie and Sam working on?”

“Dr. Beckett is trying to break into my system. I am doing my best to reroute the pathways every time he gets too close.”

“Why? What’s wrong with what he’s trying to do?”

Ziggy activated the screen to his left and displayed the data, translating from Binary into more readable data. Al stared at it for a long moment as anger and grief warred within him. Then he strode back to the control room.

“Were you going to say goodbye, or just disappear again, Sam?” Al demanded. Gooshie stood up and hurried for the exit, but Al barked, “Get back here, Gooshie. How could you go along with this? How could you let him get away with this, without even telling me?”

Gooshie gave Al a half-embarrassed, half-agonized look. It wasn’t that different from the one he had used so many years ago, when Sam had confronted Gooshie and Al with the knowledge that the Starbright project was a superweapon. The night Sam discovered that Gooshie was so caught up in the data that he didn’t think about the results, and Al was so far gone he didn’t care anymore. That was the night Sam sat down and drafted his grant application for Project Quantum Leap, as much to save his two friends as for his own ambitions.

Sam looked up at Gooshie and Al for a long minute. “Gooshie, I need to talk to Al alone. Ziggy, run an internal diagnostic. I don’t want you here either.” There was a light hum of the diagnostic. Gooshie quickly and quietly left the two men. “Why do you care? You’ll see me anyway.”

Anger and grief melded into rage. “No, I won’t. If you leap, I’m leaving. I’m not going to pick up the pieces again, Sam.”

The expression on Sam’s face was a mixture of surprise and fear. “You can’t do that, Al.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason, Sam. You’re my friend, but I have limits. I’m not going through all that again.”

“I was the one who was stuck, Al! You got to go home every day! You knew who you were!” Sam snapped.

Al shook his head, his mouth a tight, sharp line. “Sam, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there.” He tried another tactic. “You worked so hard to get here, Sam, don’t you want to stay? You’re home.” He was desperate to get through to Sam. “This isn’t a leap. You can have feelings. You don’t have to please anyone or act a part. You can be yourself.”

Sam laughed hollowly. “No one’s interested in the real me, Al, not even you. Donna’s waited years for Sam; she loves him. There are people working for this project whose jobs and reputations depend on him. I can’t just leap out, Al. I have to live with these people for the rest of my life.”

Al shook his head. “These people are the best scientists around. They’ll move on if they have to. And Donna’s a strong woman. We don’t break that easily.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I like moussaka?” Sam demanded. “Or that Sam likes classical music? Or anything about my life? I had to fight to get you to tell scraps of it, and pray to God that you weren’t lying for security reasons. I don’t have a personality, Al, I have a few morals and hang-ups that are mostly consistent from leap to leap. All of a sudden, I’ve got my memory back, and it’s like reading a book about someone else. I’m not him! I’m not anyone. No one wants to hear what I think I might be, aside from Beena, and I’m paying her, so it doesn’t count.”

Al winced. “You’re paying all of us, Sam. That doesn’t mean we don’t care. Life went on while you were away. We changed. You can change too. And this is what the world is like after all the pieces of reality you’ve changed. Of course it’s going to be different. Half the people working here, who remember working with you for years, didn’t exist when you left. Sammy Jo and Donna weren’t here; I can name a dozen other people. Your life has changed, Sam. You don’t have to treat it with kid gloves, it can take more change.” Suddenly, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Sam had to know. “Donna and I had an affair.”

Sam’s jaw tightened, and he slammed one fist backwards into a control panel. He took several long, shaky breaths. “Get out.”

“Sam, I’m sorry, I--”

“Get. Out.” Sam’s eyes had a deadly focus.

Al fled the room.

Hours later, Sam sought him out and found him tracing patterns with his index finger on the doorframe of the imaging chamber. “Tell me everything. Now.” Sam demanded levelly.

Al paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. There was nothing he could do to lessen the blow. “It started a couple of years ago. She was upset about you, worried for you, she needed someone who would be there until you came back without ever trying to take your place. I hadn’t been with anyone like her since Beth. I didn’t even try to say no. That’s why Tina left me; she thought Donna and I were still getting together after you came back.”

Sam slid to the floor, buried his head between his knees, and shook. Al stood awkwardly beside him. Finally Sam managed to say, “Project Quantum Leap is over. I’ll tell everyone in the morning. I’m leaving.”

“Don’t do this, Sam…” Al pleaded.

“Remember when we simo-leaped?” Sam mumbled through his knees. “Every time I make love to Donna, it’s not me, it’s you. You might as well have her. At least you’re a real person. I’m psychopaths, retards and rape victims all rolled into one.”

“So what parts are Sam Beckett? The real Sam?” Al asked. “Just tell me, and I promise I’ll deal with it.” He forced Sam to look at him. “Listen to me. I was your friend when you were a prize-winning scientist. I was your friend when you couldn’t even remember your last name, when you couldn’t have been more different from the Sam Beckett I knew. I know you better than anyone else, and I’ve seen all the people you’ve leaped into. Nothing you say or do can get rid of me, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes met his, drilled into him. His hands reached up to catch Al’s, grip them, pull him down. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something. Then those lips ascended to meet Al’s.

Al was too shocked to sense the kiss. Panic, terror, disgust. But over all of it, the fear that if he pulled away, the real Sam might never surface again.

Sam pulled away carefully, releasing Al’s hands from his iron grip. “I know you, Al. You hate gays; you could never stand this. I’ve never even been with a guy, but I’ve been women. I can’t ignore those parts of me, Al. And even if I could, I can’t ignore how I feel.”

Al’s heart pounded. No matter what he did, he would be making a mistake. “Sam?” His voice cracked a little. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m not that kinda guy, Sam. But I don’t want to lose you, either.” He took another gulp of air. “Oh-kay. I don’t think the feeling is mutual, but I’m not going to run away, either. What else?”

Sam blinked in surprise. “I … I don’t like classical music. And I think I’m good at painting. I like Sinatra a lot, but there’s none in the house. I heard it in town.”

Al’s heart rate was slowly approaching normal. “What about Donna?”

“I love her. From before. And that’s even more complicated, because I have two sets of memories now: one where we’re happily married and one where she left me. But I started loving you before I knew she existed, Al. You were all I had and I was so scared … I love her, and I don’t want to hurt her. But if I had to choose, I’d choose you.”

And there it was. Just as naked and trusting as only Sam could be. Al was ready to kick himself for letting his friend down like this. But Sam really had no idea how big a can of worms he had just opened. Still, there was little turning back now, not without doing worse damage. Hell, Verbena had said it was time for him to face his fears anyway. Sam deserved a chance. Al closed his eyes. Pretend it’s a girl. Just keep pretending it’s a girl. He leaned forward and kissed Sam, feeling startled, grateful lips part for him, strong hands tremble as they cupped his cheeks and throat. It was no use pretending. Al fought down terror, feeling the resilient velvet of the lips move under his, the strong, calloused hands pulling him closer, caressing his throat and shoulders. Worse, Al could feel his shaft, always ready for action, stiffening insistently. This is Sam. This is your friend. He’s not going to hurt you. This is Sam. This is your friend… He forced the litany through his mind.

“Mmmmhh…” Sam whimpered, hands slowly fumbling with Al’s complicated, gaudy collar. Al was just about ready to have a heart attack.

A tech’s footsteps in the hall aborted whatever might have happened between them. The two men scrambled apart, much to Al’s relief.

He was back in the damp heat. The laughing, Vietnamese soldiers yanked him over to the bench. “Soft American,” they taunted, “We’ll show you who’s in control.” And then the horrible violation, scraping him raw inside even as the rough-hewn bench scraped his belly…

“Al? Al! Wake up!”

He opened his eyes, sobbing and thrashing. He was in bed, in the dark. And Sam was holding him by the shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing here, Sam?” Al demanded, pulling away.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I walked over by your place. I heard you screaming, so I broke down the door.” Sam tentatively touched Al’s arm. “I have nightmares too; I can’t sleep more than an hour at a time. Do you want to talk about it?”

No. He did not want to talk about it. He wanted a drink and a woman. He wanted a bright halogen lamp to chase the shadows out of the room. But he had fought too hard to keep Sam in one piece all these years to push him away now. “The VC. Post-traumatic stress. I’ve been going over it with Verbena for a while.” He saw Sam’s patient expression, so different from the attitude Sam had given him since coming home, and tried to continue. “They tortured me. And I … I … Verbena says I use women so I won’t have to think about it.”

“And I kissed you.” Sam sighed heavily. “Jesus, Al, why didn’t you tell me?”

“The parts I did tell you were hard enough. And with your Swiss-cheesed brain … I guess I didn’t want to think about you forgetting something that important, or thinking you couldn’t lean on me when you needed me.” He pulled away so he could look Sam in the eye. “What sort of nightmares do you have?”

Sam stared off into the distance. “I have no face. I can’t breathe or hear, and I suffocate in the dark, waiting for you to come and tell me who I am, so I can have a face and breathe. Sometimes I know you’re there, but I can’t feel you, so I suffocate anyway.” He shuddered and took a deep breath. “I should go back to bed. I didn’t know…”

Al caught Sam’s face in his hands. “You have a face. You’re Sam Beckett, and you’re staying right here. You’re not leaping out.” There was a desperation to it, almost hysteria. “You’re not leaving me alone.”

Sam closed his eyes, clenched his muscles. “Don’t do that. For God’s sake, don’t do that.” He pulled away from Al’s hands. “Don’t touch me. You have no idea how much I want to kill you right now.” He whimpered, so completely unlike himself. “No, no, please, not now, not…” And suddenly his lips pressed against Al’s with a ferocious tenderness that sent electricity down Al’s nerves.

Al was suddenly terrified of his friend. “You’re nuts! Sam! Sam!”

Sam broke off, turned away, and began sobbing like a drowning man. “I don’t know who’s kissing you, Al! Sam wants to do it, but that’s Al Calavicci’s technique. You’re in my head, and I can’t get you out, and you keep thinking at me, and if you don’t take it back I’m going to go crazy. I can’t swallow it, I can’t swallow it, I can’t…” He dissolved into an endless litany, rocking back and forth as the tears poured down his shaking cheeks.

Al could feel his friend’s agony as sharply as the nightmare that lingered in his brain. All of Verbena’s well-meant advice flew out the window. Al had always, and would ever, live for Sam. “Sam? Sam? Look, whatever it takes to make you get better.” He took a deep breath and kissed Sam on the mouth, feeling the warm, surprised lips part for him. “There’s only enough room in here for one Al Calavicci. So whatever part of you is Sam Beckett had better be on the other end of that kiss.” He kissed Sam again and was shocked to feel a monumental shift. Whatever personality was on control of his friend now, there was a trembling, naive intensity to it, a slow reluctance in the lips, turning to tender exploration as Sam’s tongue slid into his mouth, probing.

Sam’s body twisted, pushing closer. Al nearly choked when he felt his friend’s erection pressing into his ribcage as Sa shifted his weight.

It was Sam who finally broke the kiss, exploring Al’s face and throat with feathery kisses, sliding fingers along the veins in Al’s arms, innocent and clumsy, but fully Sam.

Al pulled away from Sam’s mouth, sliding down to catch a nipple in his mouth with deadly accuracy. Sam groaned, arching his back as Al teased the little nub through Sam’s tee shirt with his teeth and tongue, running fingers over Sam’s ribs. Then Al pulled back a little. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. It’s all confused. You’re still in there. But you’re out here too, so I can fight it down.” His eyes seemed fever-glazed. “Al, I need you, I need you in me. I need to know where you stop and I start.”

Al fought hyperventilation. “Let’s just take this one step at a time, okay Sam?” He pulled Sam’s tee shirt off, running his hands through the silky, coarse hair on Sam’s chest. Sam gently tugged at Al’s undershirt, then at his boxers.

Sam took several deep breaths, seeming as scared and unsure about this as Al. “I’ve never done this before.” He bent his head over Al’s shaft, gingerly pressing his raspy tongue against the length of him. “It’s weird, really smooth and textured. You don’t notice the details so much when you’re touching yourself.” He moved lower, and Al convulsed as his balls were suddenly enveloped in a hot, wet cavern.

“Aaaa… S-Sam, I…” He thrust up, nearly hitting Sam in the nose. “Sam? Is … ah! … is this what you need?”

Sam pulled away, trembling. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” he said miserably.

“It’s okay, Sam. I liked it. A lot. But I’m doing this to fix you.” He pulled Sam up to kiss him, long and deep. “What do you want, Sam?”

Sam eyed the tube of lubricant Al always kept on the nightstand. He reached for it slowly, then squirted a large amount on his fingertip and began rubbing it on Al’s bulging shaft. He pulled off his boxers, and his cock sprang up, larger and thicker than Al’s. Al suppressed a moment of jealousy.

“I’m not really sure how to do this,” Sam murmured, pushing Al back to lie on the bed, facing up. He straddled Al’s crotch carefully, and using one hand, aimed Al inside him.

Al groaned in ecstasy as he felt pressure wrapping the head of his shaft. He pushed against it, feeling a tightness, a heat, he had never imagined possible. He had never been inside another man before. From the look of mixed pain and rapture on Sam’s face, the feeling was mutual.

“Sam?”

Sam could feel the voices in his head, calling, demanding, protesting. But he could feel Al, outside him, touching every inch of him, and focusing on that reality was enough to let him push the inner voices of Al and the others to the back of his brain. He slowly slid up and down Al’s cock, feeling a strange intensity every time Al drove deep inside him. The scientist decided it must be his colon that felt the sweet pressure. Al’s hands wrapped around Sam’s own cock, stroking the hot, tortured flesh as Sam’s hands fought and twisted against the bed sheets, desperate for more contact.

Their mouths met, tongues pressing, fighting, blending. Hands stroked lines of fire across hungry chests as Al thrust desperately upwards, unable to contain himself any longer.

The universe erupted. The tight ring of flesh holding Al hostage tightened and quivered, hot liquid spurted from Sam, flooding their chests.

Al took several long, shaky breaths. He needed a cigar very badly. “Sam?”

“Mm-hm?”

“I think you just woke everyone in the compound.”

“Mm.” Al’s member slipped reluctantly out of Sam, but Sam continued to hold him. “Thanks, Al.”

Al urged Sam to roll over a little, but the two men remained entwined. “What about Donna?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to tell her something. I should get back to bed before she wakes up and finds me gone. But … Al? I love you.”

“I love you too, Sam.”

Al startled awake with the persistent thought that something was wrong. His eyes moved jerkily over the room in the dark, finally landing on the figure that lay next to him. Locked muscles. No chest movement. It was happening again. “Sam? Sam, wake up.” No good. “Sam. Your name is Sam Beckett. Sam Beckett.”

Slowly, the constriction eased, and Sam took a raspy, shaky breath. He opened his eyes. “Damn it.”

“Sam, this is the third time tonight.” Al rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost five in the morning,” Sam answered, just as Donna groaned and awakened.

“Sam?” she murmured.

“I’m okay, Donna. But they’re getting worse.” He looked reluctantly at the syringe and bottle on the nightstand. “If I take the shot, I won’t be able to think clearly for the rest of the morning.”

“We discussed this,” Donna replied. “If they keep getting worse, you could do yourself serious damage. You should take the shot.” She shook her head ruefully. “We’re a pretty picture, aren’t we? No offense, Admiral.”

“None taken, Doctor,” said Al. He had moved into the Becketts’ house and bed two weeks ago, when it became clear that he was the only one whose voice could wake Sam from his potentially fatal nightmares. As the dreams left Sam unable to breathe, a quick response was vital. “All right, we’ll try this one more time. But I don’t want to pull this sheet over your head in the morning; got it, Sam?”

“Mmm.” Sam was already half asleep again. These dreams took a lot out of him.

Seventy-two minutes later, Al jerked awake. Sam’s rigid, unresponsive body looked like it was about to snap with strain. “Sam? Sam!” He shook his friend’s shoulders. No response. “You are Sam Beckett. Doctor Sam Beckett. You have a face, you can breathe.” Donna was already fumbling with the syringe, trying to load it in time. She plunged the needle directly into Sam’s artery.

A breath, almost a sob, tore from Sam’s throat. He started convulsing. Al and Donna both reached for him at once, bumping hands. They put their arms around Sam, rubbing his back and chest. “It’s all right, Sam. It’s all right,” Al soothed.

“You’re safe, Sam. You’re home. It’s all right,” Donna repeated.

Sam tried to speak, and only a slight raspy sound came out. He tried again with the same result. He tapped his throat urgently.

“His vocal chords are frozen,” Donna realized. “Just relax, Sam. It’ll be all right. Just relax.”

Al ached to see the frustration on Sam’s face, but there was nothing he could do to help. “The medication is good for twelve hours, Sam. Let’s just get some rest. Maybe your throat will feel better in the morning.” Sam frowned, but lay down again, pulling both Donna and Al closer to him.

Sam’s throat was not better in the morning. Al had to answer for him in the meeting they had that afternoon. Afterwards, Al tossed Sam a Coke from the vending machine in the hall. “Ha ha! We did it, Sam! A three-year grant, and clearance for a multi-tier operation! Sam, in ten years time travel could be as popular as using a cellular phone!”

Sam grinned and hugged Al, much to the surprise of the two interns walking by. He made pantomime signals with his hands and mouth.

“Huh? Yeah, I know it’s not feasible for anything more than government work, but neither is Kevlar. Everyone uses it anyway.” He watched Sam’s mouth again. “Yeah, I think the new adjustments are great. A few more tests and we can start sending people through.” They walked down the hall for a bit with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, drinking soda.

“I think we need to decide about the house.”

Sam looked up attentively and took a swallow of Coke.

“Look, I can’t keep popping back to my place for more clothes, Sam. Not that I have much time to change outfits with the hours we’re keeping at the lab.”

Sam smiled a little and gave Al a thumbs up.

“Yeah, ain’t it a kick in the butt? Five years just trying to get you home, and a month later we’re ready to do it to somebody else.”

That night, Al walked up to the monitor where Sam sat, looking over dossiers. “You’re still at it? Sam, it’s eleven at night. Let’s go home.”

Sam shook his head, indicating the monitor and the sheaf of papers. He picked up a pencil and scrawled: *I need to do this. If something goes wrong, I need to be right about who I pick.* He pointed to Sammy Jo’s dossier. *She’s the best choice. By changing her life at her mother’s trial, we did more than stop her from becoming a washout, we showed her that even the most terrible things can be confronted. The psych workup shows it gave her the resiliency and sense of justice a leaper needs. But if she got stuck it would be my fault.*

Al sighed heavily. “Come on, Sam. It’ll keep until morning.”

Sam pounded his fist against his thigh. *I hate this! I wasted half the day because the meds made me groggy. I need to be able to think!* He underlined it several times.

“You need to be able to sleep, Sam. You need to be able to breathe.” Al watched Sam reluctantly turn off the computer. “What does Verbena say about the nightmares?”

*Post-traumatic stress. Therapy might help, but no guarantees. Medication too. Donna’s going to love sleeping next to two shell-shocked veterans.*

“Come on, Sam.”

The two men made their way back to the house. Through the window, they could see the light on. Sam unlocked the door and smiled sheepishly at Donna. He looked around the living room. He still had trouble thinking of it as his, though Donna had filled the house with all the things she thought he’d want upon his return. His art prints. The sheet music stacked on the kitchen shelf. The ratty old chair Donna hated. Even his toothbrush. It made him feel like all the years of leaping never happened. Stranger still was his double memory: one set of memories told him this was right, the other set protested that he was a bachelor, that he couldn’t be sharing a house with Donna. Within a week he had gone through all of it and thrown out about half of it, adding items that suited his new tastes: Sinatra disks, sketchbooks, some new clothes.

Donna looked up from her book, wearing her white silk and lace robe. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, tried again. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, well, Wonder Boy here was up late doing his homework,” Al explained. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

“Mm.” She sighed. “Sam, I really think you should take the shot before you go to bed this time.”

Sam shuddered and shook his head vehemently.

“Did you talk to Verbena about some sort of Valium, something so you don’t get the nightmares in the first place?”

Sam mouthed the word allergy.

Donna nodded and held out the shot. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam grimaced, filled the syringe, and injected it into his vein.

Al squeezed Sam’s hand. The shots only stopped the muscle reactions, not the nightmares themselves. “Every time I wake up, I’ll talk you through it. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Sam fell asleep as soon as he hit the covers. Donna turned to Al and murmured, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” They walked out of the room. “Since he’s taken the shot, he doesn’t need you here. You might find it easier to sleep in your own bed.”

Al watched her for a long minute. “You don’t want me here.”

“Al, Sam and I are married. We barely got to spend any time together after he came home before the nightmares started. If I can get him to take the medication like he did tonight, we can be alone together.”

Al nodded, looking away. “Is that it? Or is it different to sleep with me in that bed now that Sam’s back?” He caught her hand before she could slap him.

Donna’s anger faded as quickly as it had appeared. “We were friends for a long time, Al. No one else at the project felt the way we did about Sam. I think sometimes that’s why we slept together, because we each needed someone who could understand the grief.”

Al, who had two sets of memories regarding Donna, did not contradict her. It was certainly true that their memories of the past five years were identical, even if he could remember another time when no one had cared about Sam as he did. Especially not Donna. “Donna, I told him. He knows … about us.” Al watched her expression change. “Sam needs me. I’m sorry. It’s not just the nightmares.” There was no way he would tell her about the night he and Sam had spent together. “I’m his reality check. No matter how confused he gets about who he is, or the voices in his head, I’m still here to tell him who he is.”

Donna wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m the useless one.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” A tear stained the lace border of her robe. She scrubbed at her eyes. “Go to bed. I need to think for a while.”

Al warred between going back to the bedroom or heading out the door. He went out, sacrificing the needs of the sleeping to those of the wakeful woman whom he would have instantly called his friend until Sam came home.

The next morning, Sammy Fuller walked into the high clearance lab, where only senior staff were allowed. Sam was busy programming Ziggy, but looked up as she came in. “I told you to come in the afternoon,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Sammy blushed with embarrassment and started backing towards the door. “I’m sorry, I’ll come back.”

“No, wait. You might as well see this,” he urged. “Sit down.” He watched her look around for a chair. “You can sit here. It won’t hurt Ziggy. Just don’t push any buttons.” He observed the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his biological daughter. She was slim and cheerful, built like her mother, but she had Sam’s eyes and his way of smiling with her mouth closed. Unlike most of the women on the project, she wore jeans instead of a business suit. Her long, dark hair was caught back in a loose braid.

Sam himself was dressed in jeans, and he had to admit he looked pretty scruffy this morning, after the awful night he’d had. His pride told him he should look his best when interviewing her, but his common sense said she needed to see what she was in for.

“Samantha, let me start by saying you’re my first choice for the new leaper.” He managed hoarsely.

Sammy’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s fantastic! Thank you so much, Dr. Beckett, I won’t let you down.”

He jumped up to sit beside her on the console, ignoring Ziggy’s squawk of protest. “Call me Sam. Samantha…”

“Sammy. It’s what everyone calls me.”

“Not Sammy Jo? Uh, your dossier says you used to use that as a nickname,” he added quickly.

“I dropped it in college. I got teased for being a hick with a name like that.” A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Just how much is in those files, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he hedged. “Look, I called you here for a reason, Sammy. You can still back out of this. No one will ever know or think less of you.” He saw her puzzled expression and took a deep breath. “Look, Sammy, this is … what I’m trying to say…”

Sammy touched his arm uncertainly. He tried again. “I was lost in there for five years. I lost my friends, my home, even my memory. Most of what I knew about my life came from Al, and even that wasn’t much, because the team decided my life was classified information, even for me.” He cleared his throat, his vocal chords were still giving him trouble. He popped a lemon sucking candy in his mouth. “Even though I’m home now, it’s still not over. I have a lot of other people’s voices crashing around in my head, scraps of personalities left over from the people I leapt into. It’s fading with time, but it may never go away.” He locked eyes with her. “I sleep in one-hour spurts with two people to talk me through the nightmares and a medication cocktail in case I stop breathing, which happened yesterday. I dream that I don’t have a face, and I’m suffocating, waiting for Al to tell me who I am. And sometimes I dream that he’s there and I can’t hear him anyway. I wake up and the bed is soaked with sweat, Sammy, and if things get much worse I’ll probably pee the bed from fear. I spend my mornings like this, groggy from the medication, and half my afternoon in therapy sessions. And despite all that, I keep asking myself why aren’t I leaping? Am I not good enough for God or Fate or Time anymore? Someone told me I control my leaps, but I’m not sure I want to believe that. I’ve upgraded the program, Sammy, I’ve put it through every test I could think of. But there’s always a chance something will go wrong.”

He watched her consider it. “Doctor -- I mean Sam -- I was here while you were away. I know a lot of what you went through. But I trust you, and I know how hard you’ve been working to upgrade the system. Someone has to take the first steps, that’s why you went--”

Sam shook his head. “Sammy, I went through the accelerator because they were going to cut our funding, and I was so damn sure it was going to be walk in the park. I thought I’d prove them wrong. I was cocky and stupid, and I don’t want you to make the same mistake.” He saw her about to make the same reply, and halted her. “Just think about it, all right? Please?”

“Why did you pick me if you thought I couldn’t handle the job?” Sammy demanded. “Did you give all the candidates this lecture?”

Sam swallowed back the words he could never tell her. “Sammy, you’re mentally and physically perfect for this. I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Sleep on it, and tell me in the morning, all right? If you really want it, I’ll make your clearance permanent and I won’t bring this up again.”

The next day, Sam called a general meeting and looked around at the thirty-two staff members. “I’d like to tell you all that it was very hard choosing the next leaper from the candidates; you’re all here because you’re above average. And at some point, hopefully all of you will travel through time. But for now, I hope that you’ll all stand behind Samantha as you stood behind me, and let’s hope she has a safer, quicker journey.” He watched the various staff members offer real or disappointed congratulations to her. “For those of you who didn’t apply, I understand. I don’t think less of anyone for not wanting to risk what I went through. But please keep your efforts on this project up to the high standards that you’ve kept up all these years to make this project a success. Thank you.”

He walked over to Sammy and gave her a clearance card and a hug. “Report in tomorrow morning at six, we need to do some last minute things. For tonight, promise me you’ll go party with your friends, all right?” He watched her disappear into the throng and prayed she would have better luck than her father.

The next morning, the high clearance lab bustled with activity. Sam tossed Sammy a jumpsuit. “Beena and Tina will take your vitals; you can get undressed in the other room. Take off anything metal, all right? No jewelry.”

Sammy paled. “I have a filling in my tooth…”

“Let me see. Do you remember what they used?” He checked. “You’re fine, it’s ceramic.”

“Who’s going into the imaging chamber? Al?” Sammy asked as the two women checked her breathing, pulse, blood pressure and eye responses.

“I’m going in, Sammy. I’ll be your contact.” He saw her blink in surprise. “Sammy, I’m going to make you a promise, all right? No matter how Swiss-cheesed your brain gets, I will always tell you who you are and anything you want to know about yourself. You’d be surprised how much we have in that dossier.”

“Thanks, Sam.” She hugged him quickly, then walked into the accelerator chamber.

Sam forced back emotion. “All right, this is a quick run, guys. Let’s do it right and get her out as soon as the twenty-four hour window opens. Gooshie, get ready to lock on to her. Beena, you’re in the waiting room. Al and Donna, you’re backup. Ready, Ziggy?”

“Ready, Dr. Beckett.”

“Initiate.” He watched Ziggy warm up the accelerator as power built up inside the machine. Then he touched the button that would trigger the leap. The lab sang with power, and Dr. Samantha Josephine Fuller vanished.

The silence that followed was a terrible sound. Sam drummed his fingers rapidly on the table. Hands touched him as the others tried to reassure him. Finally Ziggy informed them, “Dr. Beeks says the target’s name is Julian Yeager, and the year is 1969. Place, Chicago.”

“We did it! Right on the bull’s-eye! Have you got a lock on her, Gooshie?” Al demanded.

Sam was already dashing for the imaging chamber. The myriad pictures swimming in blue vanished, and were replaced by a busy restaurant kitchen. Sam blinked in surprise as three people barreled through his intangible form. Then he spotted Sammy looking at the bottle of olive oil she held as though she had no idea what it was. Remembering his own first leap, he guessed that might actually be the case.

She looked up as he walked towards her, and startled violently when he walked through a table. “Just relax and don’t tell anyone your name,” he told her. “I’m here to help. Tell them you’re going to the bathroom, and ask someone else to finish what you’re doing.” He watched her blindly follow his instructions and corrected, “No, no, the men’s room. Trust me.”

As she walked in, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror. “That’s not me! That’s not my face!” One of the patrons looked at her funny, zipped up, and walked out.

Sam didn’t blame her for going into shock. She was dressed as the main chef, only the uniform was scaled for a 4’6’’ man. The man in the mirror was a midget in his thirties. “Do you remember your name?”

She frowned, visibly terrified, and guessed. “Sam?”

“Close. Do you remember your last name?”

She paused a long minute while people walked in and out of the bathroom until it was empty. “I don’t … Aah! You’re a vampire!” She stared at the empty mirror.

“What? No, I’m a hologram. I’m linked to the neurons and mesons in your brain, so you’re the only one who can see me. You don’t remember your name? Do you remember mine?”

She shook her head. “What’s going on here?”

“Your name is Samantha Fuller, everyone calls you Sammy. My name is Sam Beckett. This is part of an experiment.. There’s not enough time to explain it all now; you’ll have to wait until you get off work. Which should be…” he checked the handlink. “In four hours and fifteen minutes.”

“No. You’re going to explain this to me right now, mister. What the hell is going on?”

Well, she certainly had her mother’s temper. “This is an experiment in time travel. Can I at least leave the physics for later? You’ve traded places with Julian Yeager, a chef in Chicago. Everyone looks at you and sees him. Where you are, the year is 1969. I’m a hologram in the year 1999, where you come from. Yeager is there, inside your … your body. If everything works out, all you have to do is pretend to be him for twenty-four hours, and you’ll be home. If not, we can still get you home, it’ll just take longer. We chose Yeager as the target, which means you’re not lost. That’s a very good sign.”

“Why can’t I remember?”

“Your brain is in shock. Al -- he’s one of the main people on the project -- he calls it the Swiss-cheese effect. You’ve got holes in your memory, but as soon as you get back, the holes will disappear again.”

How can you be so sure? What if something goes wrong?” Ste started pacing back and forth.

“Because this is my project, and I tested it on myself first. All right? Whatever bugs were in the system, I got them first and flushed them out.” He smiled at her. “You’re doing just fine, Sammy. I’m proud of you.” He looked at the handlink. “Julian is a famous chef, and this is his restaurant. In twenty-eight years he’ll have his own cooking show. Ziggy -- that’s our computer -- is going through archives for his recipes; I’ll walk you through this.”

He guided her through the cooking, then he directed her home afterwards as she drove the city streets in the rain and the dark. “You live with Carol Lilly, your lover. There are two rules: she can’t get pregnant and she’s not allowed to stock the refrigerator. You like to experiment with doing without various ingredients to force yourself to invent new recipes. You’ve gotten most of your best recipes that way.”

“All right.” She looked at him. “Do you sleep? I mean, if something goes wrong in the middle of the night…”

“We have people working around the clock, and to me it’s only eleven in the morning. But I don’t sleep that much anyway. Nothing is going to happen to you. Sammy, how much do you remember?”

She frowned as she made a turn. “I have a cat named Measles. I don’t like potatoes. Sam, I can’t remember my father’s name! I can’t picture my mother’s face!”

“It’s just for a day. I promise, you’ll have it all back at 5:44 tomorrow night.” He checked the handlink as she parked the car. “You’re in apartment 7D.”

They walked into the apartment and found a redhead with a layered haircut sitting on the couch reading a magazine. “Hey Jules,” she greeted Sammy, “You would not believe the day I’ve had. How about you?”

“Ah, my day was all right,” said Sammy. “Not much excitement … Carol.”

“You’re doing fine, Sammy,” Sam reassured her, “I’m going to check back and make sure everything’s okay on the other end. I’ll be back.” He punched the buttons and the door opened. He walked down the hallway and into the control room. “How are we doing, Al?”

Al grinned. “After all these years of coaching you from the imaging chamber, I think I forgot I could work this end of it.” He checked the monitors. “Looks good to me. Ziggy says there’s a 97 percent chance things will go perfectly.”

“Let’s get it up another three percent, okay Ziggy?”

“I’m doing my best, Dr. Beckett. It’s not my fault I’m working with unpredictable human elements.”

Sam smiled. “Love you too, Ziggy.”

“Doctor Beckett, the chances of retrieval just dropped six percent, and they’re continuing to drop,” Ziggy informed him.

“What? Get on top of that now! I want those points back up.” He ran back into the imaging chamber. The scene clarified into Yeager’s bedroom, where Sam stopped, stared for a second in surprise, then cleared his throat.

Sammy gave him a ‘one minute’ signal with her fingers, and continued kissing Carol, who sat on the bed to make up for the difference in height. Then she broke away and said, “Stay right there, Carol, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Carol rolled her eyes and grinned. “Honestly, Jules, you come up with those recipes at the worst times.”

“I’ll just be a minute, I want to write it down quickly. Uh, you’re distracting, I don’t want to forget it.” She walked to the kitchen, and Sam re-centered himself rather than bothering with the illusion of walking.

“What the hell did you do? Your percentages are dropping.”

Sammy thought back, eyes wide. “Nothing! I went along with everything she did, agreed with what she said, and tried not to act too strange.”

“Are you sure? Ziggy, run me some theories here, is there any data on Carol or Julian?” He checked the handlink. Carol would catch Julian cheating on her in a month, but nothing immediate. “Damn it! The test runs were fine!”

Sammy looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Gooshie, get her out of here now before these figures get any worse. Whatever’s going on, we’ll sort it out back at the lab.”

A faint blue aura covered Sammy, and she looked like she’d been punched in the gut. When the aura faded, it was still her.

“Damn it, Gooshie, try again! We’re down to 62 percent!”

There was another aura, and Sammy looked sick to her stomach, but there was no change.

“Ziggy, I want you on top of this now!” He tried to catch Sammy’s shoulders, but his hands went right through her. “Sammy, don’t be scared, all right? I’m going to fix the problem right now, and I’m going to send in my best friend to walk you through this while I figure out what the problem is. Al got me through all the tight spots I was ever in, and he’ll do the same for you. Now just sit tight.” With that, he touched the handlink and vanished through the doorway.

He stormed down into the control room, where everyone was furiously pounding keyboards and recoding information. “What the hell is going on in here? This should have been an open and shut leap; there’s no reason for her figures to be dropping.”

Al looked like he’d simultaneously swallowed a lemon and killed a neighbor’s cat. “Ziggy’s got a theory.”

Sam bit back a curse. “Al, I want you in there before that girl gets any more terrified than she already is. Please.” He handed over the link, and Al passed him a sympathetic look before hurrying off to the imaging chamber. “Ziggy, what’s happening in there?”

“There is a 72 percent chance that Dr. Fuller’s difficulty lies in her parentage. We have leaped other people besides yourself during emergency situations while you were leaping, and none of them have become entangled in the time stream. If you remember, we sent young Calavicci through, as well as several others during your leaps, and the lab rats we tested on recently all leaped in and out without difficulty. It seems she has inherited some brain chemistry from you that forces control of her leaps out of our hands. However, as Dr. Fuller is the first person besides yourself to require retrieval after a prolonged leap, it’s impossible to be sure.”

“Damn it!” Sam yelled at the ceiling, “Take me, you stupid piece of … Leave her out of this!” He fought off Donna’s comforting hands. “Donna, I want you to run the retrieval program constantly; we might get lucky. I’m going to see what else I can come up with.”

Al walked through the door of the imaging chamber and saw that Sammy had locked herself in the bathroom and was curled up next to the door. “I told you, Carol, it’s a stomach bug. I’ll open the door when I don’t think I’m going to throw up, all right? I’m really sorry, but you don’t know how sick I feel.”

“I don’t blame you, kid; I’d feel sick too. I’m Al, Sam sent me to make sure you’re all right while he fixes the problem. You probably don’t remember me, but I’ve known you for years.” He checked the handlink. “Sam’s running every scenario he can think of.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Sammy whispered.

Al paused, wondering what would help versus what would scare the woman to death. “Well, you probably don’t remember this, but Sam got lost his first time out, too. We thought it was because of a bunch of stupid things he did, but now we think it was something else, especially considering that you haven’t made any of those mistakes. He did get home eventually, it just took longer.”

“How much longer?” she demanded.

Al couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Five years.” He saw her about to scream at him, and added, “But a lot of that had to do with the technology we were using at the time, and the fact that the guy who invented it was stuck in the time stream with a Swiss-cheesed brain. We know a lot more now.”

Sammy now looked like she couldn’t decide whether to scream or cry. “What sort of idiot comes up with something like this?”

“Well…” Al tried to think of the best way to explain it. “Sam did it because he could. He always loved pushing the envelope. The government funded it because it represented a total revolution in espionage.” He saw the point was lost on her. “Send an agent into last week in an enemy government. You not only have an inside agent you can trust, hiding inside the body of someone the enemy trusts completely, you also have a holographic companion who can piggyback and see files or hear conversations the leaper can’t get to.” He saw the despair and fear in her eyes, the anger at her helplessness. “Come on, Sammy. Just stand up and we’ll walk into the kitchen, make you something to eat and wait for Sam. I promise you, he’s not going to leave you here. None of us are going to let anything happen to you.”

She stood up, unlocked the door, and reassured Carol, “Yeah, I still feel sick, honey, but I think I’m over the worst of it.” She walked to the kitchen, where Al was already waiting. “There’s no need to call the doctor; I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning. You should go back to bed. I just don’t feel like sleeping right now.”

Carol looked doubtful. “All right, Jules, but tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh!” Carol suddenly remembered. “There’s that recipe your father brought back from Korea, for cold and flu tea. Why don’t you make some of that?”

“Uh, could you make it? Please?”

Carol blinked. “Wow, you must be really sick, if you want someone else to pamper you by cooking for you.” She grinned when Sammy tried to protest. “No, no, believe me, I’m happy! I just hope it isn’t a bad sign.” She puttered around the kitchen, pulling out ginger root and brown sugar and setting the kettle on the stove.

“That’s good, Sammy. Just keep her happy and try not to act too strange. That’ll help your chances.”

Carol handed her the tea. “Drink up.”

Sammy took a sip. “This is good, Carol, thanks. I feel a little better.”

Carol kissed Sammy’s hair. “I’m going to bed, Jules; I need to get up early. But I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” As Carol walked to the bedroom, Sammy called out, “Carol? I don’t tell you often enough how wonderful you are. I really couldn’t get along without you.”

Carol stopped, smiled warmly, and closed the door.

“Sammy, you’re a natural leaper,” Al praised, thinking she had handled Carol very smoothly. Then he remembered that that her ‘natural talent’ at leaping was the problem. “I mean, you’re good.” There was a squawk from the handlink, and Al glanced at it. “They’ve started the tests. Gooshie -- that’s the head programmer, says they won’t know anything before morning. Why don’t you go to sleep, make the time pass faster, all right, kid?”

“I can’t sleep. Will you sit up with me for a while?”

Al considered it. “They could use me back in the control room, but you need me here, too. Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“I can’t remember anything about myself. Can you tell me?”

Al was debating what to tell her when a warning light flashed on the handlink. “Sammy, I have to go back. Gooshie says they really need me in the control room.” Sammy tried to catch hold of his sleeve, her fingers passing helplessly through his image. “I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can. But the sooner I help them, the sooner we get you home.”

He clicked the buttons that opened the door and hurried down to the control room. “What happened?”

“Sam tried to leap into Yeager to knock Sammy out of there, but we stopped him before he could get to the accelerator,” Donna explained.

Al looked at Sam, who was sitting on the floor and rubbing a large, reddening bruise on his chin. “Who hit him?”

“I did,” said Gooshie. “We need you to talk some sense into him.”

“I’m not a kid throwing a tantrum, Gooshie, you have no right to override me like this! It’s my project,” Sam argued.

More importantly, it’s your daughter, Al added silently. “Sam, that might just make things worse.”

“It worked when we simo-leaped,” Sam reminded him.

Al gritted his teeth. “Sam, don’t you feel the slightest bit ashamed that you’re doing this for yourself instead of Sammy? I mean, if you really cared about her, you’d be acting like a scientist, doing tests, instead of pouting on the floor because you can’t be a martyr. You don’t want to save her, you want to get back to leaping so you can stop feeling like an incompetent person who has nightmares and can’t even manage his own life, let alone everybody else’s.”

“I’m trying to help her, Al,” Sam protested.

Al shook his head. “Sam, this is me. I know you better than you know yourself, so stop bullshitting me. This isn’t the time or place, and I don’t have the patience.”

Sam looked at his knees. “If I leap in, I can trigger her coming home. I don’t know what else I can do.”

Al shook his head. “You’re not doing anyone any good sitting on the floor. Go home, and don’t come back here until you can act like a grownup.”

“You’re sending me to my room?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“You’re damn straight I am. And you’re not coming back here until you’ve figured out how to live for yourself and do your job without living everyone else’s lives for them. When you think you can do that and come up with a solution that doesn’t leave you like Christ on a crutch, we’ll let you back into the room. We’ve gotten along just fine without you for five years, and we’re not about to let you do something stupid. Go. Donna, go with him, make sure he does what he’s told.” He saw Sam’s anger in every line of the man’s body, but chose to ignore it. It was worth a little anger to get through to Sam.

Donna paused. “Al, maybe you’d better--”

“I’ve got a frightened kid here, and I don’t think she can take being handed off to someone else right now.” Al checked Gooshie’s notes. “I’m going to sit up with her until she goes to bed, then I’ll come in here and help you with the tests. What are her percentages right now, Ziggy?”

“Forty-one point three.”

Al turned to Sam. “Out. And don’t come back until you’re a razor-sharp Nobel laureate.” He stormed off to the imaging chamber.

Sam watched Al go, a hundred excuses and rebuttals on his tongue. The only way to get Sammy out was to have someone go in and force her out. Why didn’t anyone see that? He felt Donna tugging on his arm, and reluctantly followed her out the door. If Ziggy and the others wouldn’t let him leap, then there were enough scientists working on the problem already. He was in the way.

The southwestern air was cold on his skin. He looked up at the sky, but on a cloudy night like this he couldn’t see much of the stars. The moon was obliterated. A cacophony of voices shattered his brain, crying You failed, you failed. You weren’t good enough anymore and God threw you away and took your daughter as a replacement. You’re no good. You failed. He walked to the house and let Donna unlock the door. He walked past her to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed in the dark, looking out the window through the curtains.

He could smell Al’s cigars. It somehow made him feel more lonely than ever. He felt Donna’s fingers on his shoulders and back, and suddenly realized she hadn’t said a word since they left the control room. “You’re frightened of me.”

“Sam, what are you talking about? You’re my husband.” She kissed his arm, but his eyes trapped hers.

“You’re afraid that you’re not good enough to help me, that there’s something wrong and you’ve waited five years for a failed marriage.” And you’re right, he thought. “I … look, maybe we can fix this, maybe I just need some time…” he buried his face in his fists. He couldn’t make it any harder for her or for himself. He couldn’t drag this out. The only way he could help her was to let her get on with her life. “I can’t keep pretending, Donna. I’m not the Sam you think you know. I’m scared and insane and I just spent five years being anyone but myself. In the reality I come from, in the original history, you left me at the altar. I remember our marriage, but it’s like it’s doubled over the life I actually lived. The Sam you loved never existed, not really. I never lived that life. And you can’t help me. When the nightmares come, I need Al. When the voices get too loud, I need Beena. You’re supposed to be the one I turn to, if this is a working marriage, and I can’t.”

His arm was wet, and he could feel her shaking as the tears poured out of her. “What are you saying? You want a divorce?”

“I want a divorce. We need a divorce.” His breath was coming too fast, his stomach hurt, how could he hurt her like this? He tried to tell himself he was doing this to save her, but it was killing him to do it. What possessed him to hurt her like this? Who was in control of his mind, being cruel to her, wrecking her life?

NO! It was enough! He was a human being, he was Sam Beckett, and he couldn’t save Donna, he couldn’t save his father, he couldn’t save Al. If he was lucky, he could save himself. He was Sam Beckett and he was allowed to get angry and feel desire and he was getting out of a failing marriage before it failed worse and he was going to be the best scientist and friend he knew how to be without sacrificing himself, sacrificing…

That was it!

He stood up. “I’m going back to the lab. I’m going to get it right. Donna, I’m sorry. You can stay as long as you like; I’ll move out if you want--”

“No. I’ll start packing. There’s nothing to keep me here.” He voice was hollow, deflated. “I’ve had offers for years, great, well-paying offers. It’s about time I followed up on some of them.” Sam reached over to hug her, but she pushed him away. “Go.”

Al sat with Sammy in the darkened living room, not talking at all. The handlink gave a squawk and Al checked it. “Sammy, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but Sam has an idea. I’m going to switch places with him, all right?”

She looked up, hopeful, and smiled. “Thanks for sitting with me. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Al laughed once, like a grunt of pain. “When Sam was leaping, sometimes he couldn’t get to someone in time. He’d have me center there, just to be with them, even if they couldn’t see me or hear me.”

“That’s my worst definition of hell,” she surprised him, “To watch horrible things happen when you can’t help and no one knows you’re there. When I was little, I saw a woman kill herself. She was really upset, angry, throwing things around, and then she killed herself. I couldn’t help her, and I was scared if I ran for help, she’d see me and hurt me too. I just watched and prayed she wouldn’t find me.” She rubbed her throat. “It’s weird that that’s so clear in my mind, when there’s so much I don’t remember.”

Al shot her a knowing look. “We’ll talk more later. When you’re home.” He clicked the buttons, opened the door, and stepped through.

A moment later, Sam appeared through the imaging chamber door. “Sammy?”

Sammy tried to hug Sam, but her hands went right through him. “Sorry, I have to get used to that.”

“That’s okay. Sammy, we need to talk. I told you about how I time-traveled before you did.”

“You didn’t tell me you got stuck for five years,” she growled.

Sam took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to scare you. If it helps, you knew about it in the future, before you signed on for this. Look, we did some more tests, and we’ve recalibrated the retrieval program to help you along a little. But you have to trigger it yourself. It took me a while to know what leaping felt like well enough to direct it, but I don’t think you want to wait that long.”

“What happened to the tests? Why am I stuck here?”

“I was getting to that. When I was stuck leaping, I changed a lot of lives. One of them was yours. You’re my biological daughter, Sammy, you’re named after me. You’ve got my face, my IQ, my musical ability and my math talent. You also have the same ability to switch leaping and retrieval over to manual control. There’s a part of you that not only wants to change the past, but has the power to choose to do it despite the retrieval program. None of the other leapers we’ve just tested have it. Their percentages aren’t dropping. The retrieval program hauls them out without any problems. I’ll talk you through the leap. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try leaping into Yeager to jar you loose.”

“You’d do that? What if you get stuck?”

“I’ve done this before. I’ll make it back sooner or later, and Al and the others will be behind me, doing their best to bring me home.”

Sammy paused. “Do I know about this in the future? The person you leapt into, my father, does he know?”

Sam shook his head. “Only Al, Ziggy and I know about it. I didn’t want to tell you; I didn’t think it would be good.” He decided not to tell her that her other father wasn’t a part of her life; she had enough worries now, and hopefully she’d remember soon anyway. “Let’s concentrate on retrieval, okay? We can talk about the rest when you get back. You should feel a slight tugging sensation if you concentrate hard enough. That’s the retrieval program.”

Sammy closed her eyes, trying to focus. It was almost half an hour later that she finally nodded. “I feel it.”

“Good. Hold onto that. Now I want you to reach into your mind. You should feel some traces of Julian’s thoughts.”

There was another long wait. “He’s a jerk,” she whispered.

“Hold onto both of those. You have an IQ of 194, you can juggle three things at once. I know this is hard; I’m trying to cram five years of experience into one leap. But just keep focusing on my voice.” He kept his voice low, relaxed, hypnotic. “Now back with your body, in the future, you should be able to feel his patterns and yours. They want to be separate; it isn’t natural for them to be merged.” He watched her intent expression. “When you feel it, when you’re ready, plunge back here. Let the retrieval program guide you.”

For nearly two hours, Sammy sat motionless, concentrating. Sam decided that unlike her father, Sammy knew how to wait. Then he felt something trigger, and he was staring at the blank wall of the imaging chamber again.

“Gooshie, get me a lock!” Sam yelled. “Where is she?”

“She’s here, Sam, we got her. We almost lost her as she leaped out.”

Sam let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then he ran down the hall, coming into the control room at the same time as Sammy. She ran over to him and hugged him, crying.

“It’s okay, Sammy.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

He stroked her hair. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Reluctantly, he let go of her. He looked around at the set of relieved, grinning faces. “All right, drinks and steaks for everyone on me.”

The atmosphere in the private party room at Paco’s Bar and Grill was riotous. Almost everyone on staff was there, drink in hand. One poor, skinny intern was trapped between the wall and Gooshie’s terrible, whiskey-laced breath, but aside from that, everyone was ready to party. Sam raised his glass in a toast. “Well, we’ve proved we can hit the bull’s-eye and bring the leaper home in one leap. So here’s to us.” He scruffed Sammy’s hair. “It’s good to have you home safe. To us!”

“To us!” the others chorused, whooping and cheering as they tossed back their drinks. Someone put quarters in the jukebox and cranked up the volume, and several couples started dancing to the fast, hard beat.

Sam turned to Al. “Want to dance?”

Al shot him a look. “Sam, half the people here are military. You want to kill both our careers?”

Sam held out his arms. “They’re our family, Al. None of them would do anything to hurt us.”

Al paused, looking around at the faces in the dark room, as though going down a mental list of the people to confirm Sam’s words. He poured himself another vodka and gulped it down, then turned to Sam. “Let’s dance.”

As people began drifting home, Sam looked around for his daughter and saw her in the middle of a knot of young scientists, chatting with them with a strained expression on her face. He went over and tapped her shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She followed him to a slightly quieter corner near the doorway to the ladies room. “What’s up?”

Sam fidgeted with his watchband. “Look, I know you probably have a lot to think about, and I don’t want to rush you. I know we have a lot to talk about, too. But do you think you would do it again?”

Sammy thought about it. “I don’t know. I’d be scared of getting stuck again.” She took a sip of her martini. “I don’t understand how I was able to leap out without helping Julian or Carol. What about the Beckett’s Syndrome theory?”

Sam studied the patterns of light through his glass. “Once or twice it’s turned out that a leap was meant to change something here, rather than there. Since we nearly lost you, I haven’t heard the other voices in my head. Verbena thinks they weren’t real, that I was just feeling guilty and useless because whatever was jerking me around thought I was unimportant enough to let go. You made me stop thinking about it, and I realized I can still do a lot of good, only now I get to choose whether I want a front seat or a back seat.” He paused, considering for a moment, and decided to risk it. “Sammy, I’m probably helping Al move in this weekend. That’ll mean hauling boxes and building shelves and stuff. We could use another set of hands.”

Sammy grinned. “I’ll think about it.”

End.

Back! Back, I say!