Sam Leaped.
          His new host was in a kitchen. The time, from what he could make of the appliances, was early to mid eighties. Whomever he had leapt into had apparently been in the middle of cooking breakfast. A frying pan held scrambled eggs, and the wooden spoon in his hand was scrambling them more. The motion stopped when Sam noticed it, then he consciously started it again.
          Before he could take it off the stove, a phone started ringing. He spun the dial to turn off that burner, then picked up the blue plastic phone hanging on the wall. "Hello?" he answered as its long cord clicked against the linoleum floor.
          "Hannah, hi," a female's flustered voice greeted him. "Sorry to bother you again this week, but the baby-sitter is still sick. Could you watch Jimmy for me again?"
          "Um, yeah, sure," Sam agreed, hoping 'Hannah' didn't need to be anywhere else today.
          The person on the other end heaved a relieved sign. "Thanks a million, Hannah. You're a life-saver. I'll drop him off in a few. Thank you so much again." A click, then the dial tone. Sam hung up the phone, hoping, but not believing that was all he needed to do for the leap.
          The doorbell ran just as Sam finished washing his breakfast plate. "Coming!" he called, putting the dish on the drying rack beside the sink. He hurried to the front door and opened it, revealing a pretty young woman with ash-blonde hair and a boy of no more than fours years.
          "That's not Miss Hannah," the dark-haired boy whispered to his mother, half-hiding behind her leg. Despite the shy posture, dark eyes stared at him boldly.
          "Of course it is, Jimmy," the woman told him, apparently used to such statements. She knelt down toward him, and took his thin shoulders between her hands. "Now I want you on your best behaviour for Miss Hannah, y'hear?"
          "But it ain't Miss Hannah," Jimmy insisted.
          The woman sighed, "Then be good for whoever you think this is."
          "I will," Jimmy promised solemnly. She gave him a quick kiss on his forehead, shrugged at Sam, then hurried back to her car. Sam watched in admiration as she crossed the lawn in three inch heels with such ease. When her car drove out of sight, Jimmy looked up at Sam and tilted his head. "You're not Miss Hannah," he observed
          "No," Sam agreed, "I'm not. But Miss Hannah had to go somewhere for a few days so I'll be filling in for her."
          "Oh." Jimmy thought about that for a few seconds. "Can I play Nintendo?"
          Sam was expecting a question, but that wasn't it. "Uh, yeah, sure." Jimmy's face broke into a beautific smile, and Sam decided he was forgiven for not being Miss Hannah. As the boy half-skipped, half-ran down the hall and disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms, a familiar sliding noise came from his right.
          "Ziggy didn't say you had a kid," a gravely voice said. The comment was punctuated by electronic squeals and beeps.
          Jimmy's head popped back into the hallway, then he stepped back into sight. "Whozzat?"
          "Jimmy, Al. Al, Jimmy," Sam introduced them. "I'm baby-sitting," he told Al, then said to Jimmy, "Al's going to help me substitute for Miss Hannah."
          "Oh." The boy considered that and must have come to the same conclusion he had reached before. "I'm gonna play Nintendo." He disappeared into the side room again, and video game music spilled back to them after a few moments.
          "Cute kid." Al commented, "Good priorities." At the handlink's squack, he looked down at it. "Your name is Hannah Gold. You're a sixty-seven year old widow with one daughter, and two grandchildren." He looked back down the hall. "That's probably why you have a Nintendo. Anyway, you're a talented seamstress and craftmaker who works at home making specialized items ranging from wedding gowns to quilts to cross-stitched wall hangings."
          "I hope I'm not supposed to finish any of her projects, Al. I can barely replace a button." Though to be honest, he was glad this leap was looking so domestic. He needed a break from mobsters and murderers. He began walking toward th kitchen to see if he could find some cookies or something to offer Jimmy.
          Al poked at his handlink. "No, Ziggy gives it an eight-four percent chance you're supposed to stop your neighbor from getting killed by her hus." Al frowned, wacked the handlink, and finished, "Band. Oh, getting killed by her husband. The nozzle." Sam started walking down the hall, towards the kitchen. Al followed, still talking, "Apparently this guy, Jeffrey Lewis hits his wife Jennifer Lewis hard enough to knock her down. She smacks her head on a table and dies in the hospital two hours later." So much for it being a peaceful leap.
          The music in the room they had just passed stopped abruptly. Sam back stepped and looked in. The screen showed a little man in overalls hovering in mid-air. The word PAUSED was written across the screen and Jimmy had turned toward them, his eyes wide and scared. "Mama's dead?"
          Sam and Al exchanged glances. Sam bent down on his knee. "No, Jimmy," he said reassuringly, "She's alive. Me and Al will make sure she stays that way, too."
          Jimmy looked between them, still pale despite his mediterranean complexion. "Can I help?"
          "Sure can," Al promised, at the same time Sam said, "We'll see."
          "Al," Sam warned.
          The hologram held up his hand as he read off the handlink. "Jennifer Lewis was born in 1960 to Jason and Harriet Hart." He lowered the 'link. "I knew a Jenny Hart once. Probably no relation, she was a showgirl in Vegas with a very nice," he paused at Sam's baleful look, then finished defensively, "dance routine. A very nice dance routine, Sam. Anyway, this Jenny is a housewife in Virginia." he started reading from the handlink again at Sam's glare, "When she married Jeffery Lewis in 1988, she already had a two-year-old son, James. It is now June 2nd, 1990. They've lived in the house down the road from here for almost a year. She works as a secretary in a law firm in Arlington. He's an investment consultant who works in DC."
          "When was it going to happen?" Sam asked.
          Al whacked the 'link for good measure. "Tomorrow, around lunch time. She comes home for lunch everyday, and tomorrow, so does Jeff. They probably get into a fight, he ki-" Jimmy drew in a sharp breath. Al changed his phrasing, "Jeff knocks her down, then runs away. Police catch him trying to cross the border into Pennsylvania. Jenny manages to call Hannah, who calls the hospital, then goes over there, with Jimmy. Ambulance arrives, but she had already fallen unconscious. She never woke up." Jimmy bit his lip, and looked about ready to cry. "That's how it was going to happen if Sam and I weren't here, but we're here now, so it'll be different," Al added quickly.
          "But we're going to have to pretend I'm Miss Hannah when your mother comes to pick you up this afternoon, okay, Jimmy?" The boy nodded. "Now how about you play your game while Al and I try to figure out how to stop it."
          Jimmy shook his head stubbornly. "My mama. I wanna be like Mario and jump on Papa Jeff's head and make him disappear."
          Al consulted the handlink. "Ziggy give it a ninety-four percent chance you need to break up the marriage, Sam." He looked at Jimmy, doubtfully, "You want your mama and Jeff to stop being married, Jim?"
          To their surprise, Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. "Make Papa Jeff go away, Mister Hannah," he begged, turning imploring and hopeful eyes to Sam. "Then he won't hit her."
          "Does he hit you?" Sam asked gently.
          Jimmy shrugged. "When Mama's not there, sometimes."
          Al's eyes turned cold. "Hologram or no hologram, I'll kill him myself."
          "Calm down, Al. How does Ziggy suggest I do this?"
          Al whacked the 'link with more force than was strictly necessary or good for it. "She says the how is your job, but adds that talking to Jenny when she picks up Jimmy would probably help. Let her know she has a friend and somebody to turn to."
          Sam nodded, "Okay."
          "I'm going to run some scenarios, I'll be back by the time Jenny shows." A square of blue-white light appeared behind him, and Al back-stepped into it. The square closed, leaving Sam and Jimmy alone.
          Jimmy stared at the spot where Al had been, his brown eyes wide with awe. "Wow. Did he just go to the Enterprise?"
          Sam looked at his young companion. "Something like that."
          The boy clasped his hands together and looked at Sam pleadingly. "Can Scotty beam me up, too?"
          "Uh, the transporter's kind of broken. It only works for Al."
          "Oh." He looked back at his Paused game. "You wanna be Luigi?"

* * *

Al returned shortly before 3pm, Sam's time. "Hey, Sam, Jimmy," he greeted them distractedly. "Ziggy says Jenny will be here any minute and that you should invite her in for tea."
          Sam nodded and paused the game of Duck Hunt. "Need to put water on the stove, kiddo. I'll be right back."
          Jimmy nodded, then looked at Al, "You wanna play, Mr. Al?"
          Al looked regretfully at the grey Nintendo gun that Sam had just handed off to Jimmy. "Wish I could, kid."
          Sam halted, halfway to the hall. He turned back toward them to say, "Scotty's got problems with the transporter, Jimmy. Al's only partly here."
          Al recovered and hid his surprise quickly. He grinned and passed a hand through Jimmy. "Yeah, see? My insides are still on the Enterprise."
          Jimmy jumped back with a cry. "Eww!" He seemed stuck somewhere between fascinated and horrified. He crept forward again and tentatively passed his own hand through Al. "Does it hurt?"
          "Nah," Al assured him, as Sam left the room to put on the tea kettle. "It just takes a little while to get used to being in two places at once. We've had this problem before, and I'm going to guess your Ma won't be able to see me or hear me, so how about we pretend like I'm not here so we don't confuse her, ok?"
          Jimmy nodded and laughed. "She prolly won't believe you're from the Enterprise anyway." He shook his head. "Grown-ups, y'know?" He seemed to have forgotten that Al himself was a grown-up.
          Al nodded sagely in agreement. "Absolutely. Now remember, she's also going to see Sam as Miss Hannah, so your need to call him by her name, too."
          Jimmy nodded again. "Gotcha." Their hands passed through each other in a ghostly high five.
          Al grinned. "No, you don't got me." Jimmy laughed.
          When Sam returned to the living room, he was startled to see Al and Jimmy seated cross-legged on the floor across from each other. Al was missing both his handlink and his cigar, which was astonishing by itself, but what really took him aback was how relaxed Al seemed with the small boy.
          The Admiral waved his arms around in one of his characteristic gestures and suddenly his cigar was back in one hand, and the handlink in the other. Jimmy's mouth hung open for a moment, then he smiled broadly, clapped, and laughed. "You're cheating by having Scotty help!"
          "Am not," Al retorted.
          "Are, too!"
          Before the fight could escalate further, the doorbell rang. As Sam passed them on the way to answer it, he admonished, "You boys be quiet and behave."
          Jimmy immediately fell silent, sprang to his feet, and trotted cooperatively after Sam. Al stared after them a look of shocked indignation on his face. He rose and followed more slowly, "Sam, even you couldn't have forgotten I'm -" he stopped abruptly as the door opened, revealing Jenny Lewis. Her ash-blonde hair was more frazzled than it had been in the morning, but she still looked professional in the knee-length blue skirt and white blouse. "Oh, boy, Sam. That is the Jenny Hart I knew in Vegas. How'd she get to Virginia?" This last question seemed aimed at the handlink, which was just as well. Even had Sam known, he couldn't have answered.
          Sam invited her in for tea, but she tried to decline. Sam insisted, and she gave in. They filed down the hall to the kitchen, Sam and Jimmy privy to Al's "If it weren't for Jeff, I'd say Virginia agrees with her. I don't know how she manages to look even more attractive in that conservative outfit than she did in [cough] her other uniform. Ziggy, you could have warned me she was originally from Nevada."
          When they reached the kitchen, Sam indicated that she should take a seat. She did so. Sam put a tea cup in front of her, and another on the placemat opposite her. He filled both cups with the steaming water from the kettle. "Do you prefer Lemon Spice or Green?"
          "Lemon Spice, thank you," Sam gave her the appropriate teabag, then took his own seat, unwrapping a Green teabag for himself. Jimmy climbed into the chair beside Sam. Al continued to stand. "I hope Jimmy wasn't too much trouble today," Jenny opened the conversation.
          "No, he was excellent," Sam assured her. "But we did have a disturbing conversation."
          "Oh?" Mrs. Lewis asked, pretending she had no idea about what Sam was alluding to.
          "Why do you stay with him?"
          "Jimmy? He's my son." She wasn't going to make this easy.
          "Not Jimmy. Your husband."
          She glowered at Sam. "I don't see how this is any of your business, Hannah."
          "I'm making it my business because you're my friend, and Jimmy is a wonderful little boy, and neither of you deserve what Jeff is doing to you. Besides which, not reporting child abuse is a crime almost as bad as committing it. Even if you deny your own problems, think of Jimmy. You're not there all the time to protect him."
          "I don't think we should be discussing this in front of him."
          "He's already involved!" Al exclaimed. "What can you say that he hasn't already seen or guessed?"
          Sam sighed. "Jimmy, how about you go play Nintendo some more?"
          Jimmy looked at him in betrayal. "I'm already involved! What can you say that I haven't already seen or guessed?"
          "Atta boy, Jimmy," Al cheered, gaining himself a glare from Sam and a grin from the boy.
          "Jimmy, go play Nintendo," Mrs. Lewis ordered.
          Jimmy looked to Al for support. "It's your family, you have a right to know," Al prompted.
          "My family. I have a right to know."
          "Jimmy, go play," Mrs. Lewis repeated, her temper leaking into her voice.
          The boy looked to Al again. The hologram was glaring at both Sam and Mrs. Lewis. He looked sympathetically down at Jimmy. "Guess you'd better go before she grounds you. You can listen from the doorway, and I'll tell you if you're needed."
          Jimmy favored Sam and his mother with a glare much like Al's, then stalked from the room. Al followed. In a moment, music from Super Mario filled the next room. Al returned shortly thereafter, but he stood only halfway through the wall. He leaned back, his head disappearing from Sam's view. When it reappeared, Al crossed the kitchen grabbed a chair into holographic existence, deposited it inside the chair Jimmy had vacated, and sat down.
          "Has Jeff always been this way?" Sam prompted the conversation to resume, pretending that he didn't know Jimmy was right outside. Some of Al's tenseness dissipated.
          "It started when we moved to Virginia. I thought it was the stress of the move. But it's only been getting worse."
          "Divorce the nozzle!" Al exclaimed, "You can do better than that jerk."
          "Why'd you marry him?" Sam asked, ignoring Al. "Do you love him?"
          She nodded, then shook her head, then spread her hands helplessly. "I don't know anymore. I think I used to. But that might just have been because he didn't hold Jimmy against me. It's so hard, Hannah, especially in Vegas, to be a single mom. I lost my job as soon as I started showing. Nobody wants to see a pregnant show girl."
          "What about the father? Wouldn't he help?"
          She barked a laugh. "Al? He was long gone. Left for New Mexico with no forwarding address."
          Al froze. Sam wasn't sure if his friend was even breathing. All the blood drained from his face. "I didn't know, Sam," he whispered, "I didn't know." Sam was just glad Al had already been sitting.
          "Find him," Sam instructed. "He'll help."
          "Jimmy, come in here!" Al called, only beginning to recover. Jimmy stepped tentatively into the room, confused and uncertain.
          Not noticing him, his mother replied to Sam. "You don't know the man. His real father has as many or more problems than Jeff does."
          Al shook his head, and looked at Jimmy with desperate eyes. "Tell her to give your read dad a chance."
          "Who is my real father?" Jimmy asked instead, not understanding Al's emotion and having heard only his mother's pronouncement that 'dad' was worse than Papa Jeff.
          "Jimmy, get out here," Mrs. Lewis snapped at him. He flinched.
          "I am," Al whispered.
          "You are?" Jimmy repeated, incredulous. It only took him a moment to accept the statement as fact, and he turned excited eyes to his mother. "Give my real father a chance!"
          "Jimmy," she sighed, "Even if I wanted to find him - which I don't - I wouldn't know where to look."
          "Stallion's Gate, New Mexico," Al told her. "Little diner called Nancy's. I'm there every Friday at noon."
          "Stallion's Gate, New Mexico," Jimmy repeated. "Little diner called Nancy's. He's there every Friday at noon."
          Jenny frowned, her anger disappearing beneath confusion. "How do you know that?"
          "Papa Al told me," Jimmy said simply, pointing at him.
          Al took a second to recover from Jimmy's chosen form of address. "Uh, she can't see me, remember?" he reminded the boy when he did.
          "You can't see him. He's on the Enterprise and the transporter is only working a little bit."
          "Jimmy," she began.
          "It's true!" Jimmy defended himself against her tone. He looked to Sam for support.
          "Uh," Sam hesitated, realizing he was suddenly the center of attention.
          "Sam, Ziggy says that if Jenny believes I'm here, she will call my younger self and divorce Jeff. But if you tell her - oh, screw the rules, tell her, Sam. If nothing else, you know I don't beat my wives or girlfriends."
          "It's possible that Jimmy might be able to hear something we can't," Sam compromised between the rules and Jimmy's plea for help. "He's been talking to himself periodically today."
          "He's lying!" Jimmy yelled, betrayed again. "He's not Miss Hannah, he's Sam, and he can see Papa Al, too!"
          "He's been saying that all day too," Sam murmured. "I've been trying to play along."
          Jimmy turned desperately to Al, looking ready to cry. "Calm down, Jimmy," Al said. "Since Sam's being difficult," he favored his best friend with a withering glare, "we'll need to convince your mom by ourselves." Jimmy nodded, trying with little success to swallow his tears and sobs.
          Jenny left the table and her cold untouched tea to enfold the boy in her arms. She looked up at Sam. "Should I bring him to a doctor?" she asked, worried.
          "No!" Al and Jimmy exclaimed in unison. Al continued, "Tell her you know I'm in the Navy and was in Vietnam and Space."
          "He's [sniff] in the Navy, and was in Vee-vee?" the boy stopped, unable to pronounce the unfamiliar word.
          "Vee-et-nam," Al repeated.
          "Vee-et-nam and Space," Jimmy finished.
          "Space was a lot more fun."
          "Space was a lot more fun."
          Jenny sat back on her heels and held her son out at arms length. "He told you this?"
          Jimmy nodded, biting back more tears and wiping wet cheeks with his striped sleeve.
          Al's eyes lit up suddenly with a mischevious light that Sam did not like. "Jimmy, tell her I said she's still," he made a wavy downward gesture, "very nice." Sam frowned and glowered but didn't quite let his scandalized "Al!" escape his lips.
          "He says you're still," Jimmy repeated the gesture, "very nice."
          "Al!" Jenny exclaimed, scandalized, glowering and frowning at various points of the kitchen.
          Al grinned, unrepentant. "Tell her she doesn't have to like me, but I will help any way I can."
          "You don't have to like him, but he'll help any way he can," Jimmy repeated dutifully.
          Al stood and faced Jenny, speaking to her more than Jimmy."Give me a call, explain the situation, and I'll be here like that," he snapped his fingers.
          The boy translated anyway, "Give him a call, 'splain the situ-sitution, and he'll be here like-like-" the boy tried and failed to snap his fingers. "How do you do that?"
          "If he's here why do I need to tell him what's going on?" Jenny asked, narrowing her eyes.
          Jimmy looked at Al, ready to relay the answer. "She spent way too much time in Vegas," Al muttered. "Tell her 'Because . . .'" he began, drawing out the word.
          "Because . . ." Jimmy began, drawing out the word. Sam raised his eyebrows expectantly, clinically interested in how his friend would respond to the question.
          "I won't remember this afternoon," Al finally finished.
          "Why?"
          Al looked at Sam helplessly, then turned back to Jimmy. "That's classified," he finally replied, shaking head. Jimmy's eyes clouded in confusion.
          "What did he say?" Jenny asked, watching her son's expression carefully.
          Jimmy looked at her, the gave Al a quick, uncertain glance. "First he said he won't remember. Then he said it's class-classical." He sounded proud of himself for remembering the last word.
          "Classified," Al corrected.
          "Classified," Jimmy repeated. Jenny's expression closed.
          Al tok a step neareer them. "Jenny, can you deny that someone who knows stuff only Al Calavicci should know is in your kitchen right now?"
          "Mama, can you de-?" he looked to Al for help again. "Smaller groups of words, Papa Al."
          Al smiled encouragingly at him. "Your doing a great job, Jimmy. Ask if he she believes I'm really here."
          "Mama, do you think Papa Al is really here?"
          Jenny looked uncertainly at the spot of air Jimmy kept referring to. "I don't know."
          "You believe Jimmy's talking to somebody, right?"
          "You believe I'm talking to somebody, right?"
          She nodded with very little conviction. "I think so. I hope so."
          "Then that person's invisible, right?"
          "Then that person's invisible, right?"
          That she was able to agree to, "Yes."
          "Then whoever I am, I've got to be part of a top secret project, then, right?"
          "Then whoever he is, he's on a top secret thing, right?"
          "So can you believe me that I'm not lying when I say that this really is classified?" Sam rolled his eyes at the implications of what else Al might have told her was classified.
          "So can you believe that he's not lying and it really is classified?" The boy frowned. "You didn't lie to my mama before, did you?"
          "Sharp kid," Sam commented.
          "What does he say to that?" Jenny asked, clinically curious.
          Al squeezed his eyes closed and consulted the handlink. When he looked back up, Jimmy's dark eyes were still earnestly waiting for an answer. "Jimmy, don't make me answer that."
          "He said 'Jimmy, don't make me answer that.' Then he started fiddling with his cigar."
          Jenny looked sharply toward the blank air, her face unreadable. "Tell me what he's wearing."
          "He's got a funny little hat that looks kinda like a punchbuggy. It's blue like the curtains." He pointed at the sky blue draperies. "His shirt's the same color, and he's got a jacket with no sleeves over it. The jacket has yellow and really bright blue stripes. He's got a big round ring on one of his fingers." He glanced at his mother wondering how much more she wanted to know about Papa Al's wardrobe.
          At his look, she smiled assuringly, "That's enough, hon. Still have your awful taste, don't you, Al?" Sam covered a grin.
          "What's wrong with my taste?" Al asked looking down at his outfit.
          Jimmy didn't translate. The funny look he gave Al was good enough to allow his mother to guess what the hologram had said.
          "He asked what's wrong with his taste, didn't he?"
          Jimmy looked at her in surprise. "You heard him?" he asked hopefully.
          She shook her head regretfully. "Ok, Al, I believe you."
          "Then believe me that you need to leave Jeff."
          "Then believe him that you have to leave Jeff."
          Her expression hardened. "I'm not you, Al. How many ex-wives do you have? I believe in marriage."
          "Then marry someone worthy of you."
          "Then marry someone worthy of you."
          She laughed without humour. "Like who? You?"
          "Good Lord, no. We'd be divorced in a week."
          Jimmy frowned. "You'd divorce my mama? In a week?" Sam couldn't decide if the boy was more outraged, hurt, or incredulous.
          Jenny began laughing. Real, healthy, belly laughter. Tears streamed down her face. Jimmy and Al stared at her as though she'd gone mad. Eventually, she recovered well enough to wipe away the wet tracks. "Geez, I don't remember the last time I laughed like that," she wheezed. She looked at her bewildered son. "I'd pay money to see your face right now, Al. And I'd bet twice as much that it looks just like Jimmy's."
          "You'd win," Sam said before he could stop himself. When she looked at him, he shrugged and added, "I'd guess."
          Sam felt certain she didn't believe him, but she let it pass anyway. "Ok, Al, why did you come here? Surely not to break up me and Jeff."
          Al shrugged. "Actually, that's exactly the reason."
          "No, that is why," Jimmy paraphrased.
          She stared at the boy, in the absence of being able to see Al. "Why?"
          "Because Papa Jeff was gonna kill you tomorrow," Jimmy said without waiting for Al's answer.
          "Papa Jeff isn't going to kill me tomorrow," she laughed.
          Jimmy consulted Al, Al consulted the handlink. "Ziggy gives it an eighty-two percent chance if she doesn't call me and leave him tonight."
          "Eighty-two percent is a lot, right?"
          Al nodded solemnly.
          Jimmy turned to his mother, his big dark eyes wide with earnest and fear. "Please, you gotta call Papa Al and leave Papa Jeff."
          "At the very least, don't go home for lunch tomorrow."
          "And don't go home for lunch tomorrow. Mama, don't die."
          Jenny frowned. "Al, this isn't funny. You're scaring him."
          "Am I scaring you?"
          Jimmy looked uncertainly at him, but relayed the words. "He wants to know if he's scaring you, too."
          He was certainly angering her. "Al, I swear, I'll have you arrested for harassment."
          "Because if I'm scaring you, then, on some level, you believe Jeff is capable of killing you."
          "Because if he's scaring you, then, on some level, you believe Jeff is capable of killing you," Sam repeated the long conclusion for Jimmy this time.
          Jenny stood and began pacing Hannah's kitchen. She finally came to a stop in front of the blue phone. "What's your number, Al?"
          Al gave it to her one number at a time, which Jimmy relayed. "Ask for Admiral Calavicci."
          "Ask for Admiral Cala-Calavitchi."
          "Are you an Admiral in 1990?" Sam asked abruptly.
          "Just barely."
          Jenny shot another look at Sam as she listened to the phone ring on the other side. "May I speak with Admiral Calavicci?" she asked when a female voice answered. She paused for a moment. "Jennifer Hart. It's a personal matter." Another pause. "No, I'm not an ex-wife," she answered with a slightly annoyed glance toward the last place Jimmy had indicated Al stood.
          Al grinned. "I didn't realize my incoming calls were screened so thoroughly."
          "Al?" Jenny said into the phone. "This is Jenny Hart." A pause, and an uncertain look at Jimmy and the phantom place where she imagined Al had been. "Um, yeah. A long time." Another, longer pause. "Actually, I'm sort of married and in Virginia now."
          "Tell that idiot to stop trying to flirt and that he'd best sit down for this doozy."
          "Papa Al says to tell the idiot to stop flirting and sit down for a doozy."
          Jenny laughed/choked. "Sit down, idiot," she said into the phone. She looked back into the room with a bemused look on her face, "He was already sitting. Listen, Al, I don't know how to break this news, so I'm just going to say it. I have a son. His name is Jimmy. He was born about nine months after you and I -" She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "I think he fell down."
          Al shook his head. "We told him to sit down. The guy never listens."
          Sam tried to muffle a laugh.
          "Jimmy, tell your mom, you want to talk to me."
          Jimmy crossed to kitchen to pull on his mother's skirt and reach for the phone. "Can I talk to him?"
          "Hold on, Jimmy wants to talk to you." Jimmy pulled on the cord hard enough for her to drop it. The boy didn't quite catch it before it clattered on the floor.
          "Hi," he said into it, his voice instantly becoming more childish. It didn't help that when he held the earpiece at his ear, the mouthpiece was several inches from his mouth. "This is Jimmy."
          "Tell him Mama and Papa Jeff need to get a divorce. And you need his help."
          "Mama and Papa Jeff need a divorce. Help us." A pause. "Because Papa Jeff hits her." Another pause. "Sometimes." He listened for another few seconds, then held the phone up to his mother, "He wants our address."
          "Feel free to stay here until Al arrives," Sam said.
          Jenny smiled her thanks at him, then said into the phone, "I'm staying at a friends right now . . . "
          "Jimmy," Al said with sudden urgency, kneeling down in front of the boy. "Whatever you do, do not tell me that you've met me before. Don't let your Mama tell me either. It's really, really important."
          "Why don't you want us to tell you? You'll know won't you?"
          "He'll remember it in eight years, but not before," Sam said.
          Jenny smiled at this, but was too busy explaining the directions from the airport to Hannah's house for her to say anything before Sam Leapt.

* * *

Al stepped out of the Imaging Chamber. He dropped the handlink off on a surface of Ziggy's housing. "Ok, Zig," he said, "What's different this time?"
          "Well, Admiral. You are married, for one."
          Al stumbled on his way toward the elevator. "Jenny and I got married?" he asked incredulously.
          "Of course, Admiral," Gooshie said, glancing up from his work in surprise. "You've been married for seven years."
          "Seven years!" Al repeated, staring at Gooshing and looking as stunned as the programmer. "Seven years? Seven days possibly, Seven weeks, maybe. Sevn months is unlikely. Seven years is impossible."
          Gooshie looked nervously at another technician. "You really shouldn't talk like that. Word might get back to Jenny."
          Al looked for and found the gold band on Gooshie's finger. "And I suppose you're married to Tina, again, too," Al guessed.
          Gooshie looked startled. "Why wouldn't I be?"
          Al just shook his head, then looked for the wedding band on his own finger. "If I'm married, where's my ring?" The only one on his hand was his usual navy seal ring.
          "You lost it yesterday, sir. Jenny was quite upset."
          "How's Jimmy?"
          Gooshie shrugged. "You'd know better than me. He went off to soccer camp for the month."
          "Away from home for a whole month? But he's only," he mentally did the math, "twelve? Oh, boy." Just then, another thought occured to him. "Ziggy, did I squeeze in Maxine, or is Jenny my fifth wife now?"
          "When you had Jenny call you, you were already married to Maxine. That is perhaps why it took a year for you to marry Jenny after she moved down to New Mexico." The sultry voice of Ziggy informed him. "That makes Jenny your sixth."
          "Thank you, Ziggy."
          "Since I was not yet operational, I am unable to confirm whether you were having an affair with her while still married to Maxine."
          "Thank you, Ziggy." Before she could add anything else he did not want shared with every technician on Project Quantum Leap, he added, "Is there anything else? Verbena didn't inexplicably become a vegetarian or anything while I was gone?"
          "Almost everything else is the same." The computer gave a two-beat pause. "Except . . . "
          Al rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently. "Except what?"
          "Go home and find out."
          Al took several more steps toward the elevator before stopping. "Ah, Zig? Where is home?" It took three minutes to coax directions out of the computer and another thirty-five minutes to drive there. He figured yesterday he had made the trip in half that time.
          Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, he opened the door without knocking. "Jenny? Jimmy?" he called. Then he remembered Jimmy was supposed to be at soccer camp.
          But the first person he saw was neither the absent Jimmy nor Jenny. It was a small girl who looked almost six years old. "Daddy!" she squealed and threw herself into his arms.
          "Hi, honey," Al said, still unable to remember any of this time line. Memories would come over the next few days, but right now, he had no idea what his daughter's name was.
          After a moment, Jenny appeared in the foyer, carrying a bundle of blue blankets. "Hey, Al. How was work?" As he stood and approached her, she frowned in worry. "What's the matter, hon?"
          He wordlessly pushed aside the blankets, and stared in wonder at the baby cradled in Jenny's arms. "Remember Miss Hannah?" he asked softly.
          "Of course. She's due for a visit next month." She shifted her weight, then thought of a better idea, "Here, you hold Sam."
          "Sam? Oh," he accepted the baby into his arms. "We named you Sam, huh? Sam will like that."
          Jenny was looking at him oddly. "What's wrong, Al? You look kind of . . . dazed."
          "Dazed is an excellent description," Al agreed readily. "When I asked about Miss Hannah, I meant, do you remember that day Jimmy was hearing voices?"
          Her eyes widened. "He heard only one voice, and only for that one day."
          Al nodded, "Do you remember what he said I was wearing?"
          She frowned in concentration. "A hat like blue punchbuggy." She looked at his blue hat. "Matching shirt with a striped jacket." She looked at his matching shirt and striped vest. "You remember it now?" she asked.
          He nodded. "I lived it today." He smiled down at the girl, whatever her name was. "It appears I was wrong. I told Jimmy we'd be divorced in a week."
          "'It appears'?" she repeated. "Wait, you were in the future, and you gave that prediction?"
          "Sam changed history. At the time, I was still reeling from the discovery that I had a kid at all. In the original version, Jeff killed you that next day. Jeff was arrested and put away for a long while, and Jimmy ended up in an orphanage. I never learned about any of it. Until three this afternoon, Sam's time, I figured I was unmarried, no children."
          "Oh, good."
          Al blinked. "Good?"
          "I'd always figured I ruined your marriage with Maxine."
          He shook his head. "Well that one was doomed to failure even without your help. But you're not upset I don't remember this new version yet?"
          She smiled. "Al, I've known for years that Sam changed my life, even before he Leapt that first time. Jimmy recognized him as 'Mister Hannah'. When you started coming home with obsolete memories, I guessed something like this might happen eventually once you hit our leap. The new memories will fill in soon enough," she smiled. "In the meantime, Alissa can give you the tour of the house."
          "Alissa," Al repeated the name. "Um, just out of curiosity, does Jimmy still call me Papa Al?"
          Jenny smiled. "When we got married, he and I changed our names to Calavicci and he changed yours to Daddy. Well, Dad now. He's too grown up to call you Daddy any more."
          "There's just the three, right?"
          She grinned mischievously. "Four. Ziggy's next door playing with Elli."
          Al stared at her in disbelieving horror. "No. We did not name a kid Ziggy."
          Jenny smiled gently. "Well, we named her Alexandra. Ziggy just sort of . . . stuck"
          "How?"
          "I'll let that memory come to you in its own time. Here, I'll put Sam to bed, and Alissa can give you that tour." She took the bundle of baby back, and Alissa grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairway. "Alissa, hon, pretend like Daddy's never been here before."
          The little girl giggled. "Ok." She was apparently used to her father's quirky memory because she pointed out the pictures hanging on the wall of the stairwell. "There's us as kids." The picture in question showed Jimmy and two identical girls dressed identically. He guessed their ages as nine, three, and three respectively.
          "That's Uncle Sam's Wedding," she said pointing to another picture a bit higher along the stairs. "Jimmy says you stared at it for forever one night when you came home from work. Until you remembered it, you told him. I look at it sometimes too. I don't remember meeting Uncle Sam. Mommy says he doesn't leave work anymore. But here's one of him with me and Ziggy," she said moving up another few steps to point out a picture of Sam holding one infant in a christening gown and Donna holding another.
          Slowly they made it up the stairs, Alissa regaling him with anecdotes the whole time, until they reached the room at their top. She stopped and flung open the door dramatically, "Here we are. This is the room me and Ziggy share . . ."

* * *

Hannah Gold felt a moment of disorientation. She blinked and found herself in her kitchen. She was not alone. Jenny Lewis was speaking on the phone, and her boy Jimmy was staring at her as though she'd just turned into Mario. "Mama, Miss Hannah is back," Jimmy said, and if she didn't know better she'd think he sounded disappointed. "Papa Al is gone, too." The old woman couldn't make heads or tails of what or who the boy was talking about, or how they had gotten into her kitchen for that matter. Short-term memory loss was supposed to be a symptom of getting older. She hadn't had any problems with it before (that she could remember), but perhaps that was what this was.
          The clock on the wall told her it was a quarter to four, and the cold cups of tea on the table announced that they had sat here for some time. Jenny hung up the phone, and offered her a troubled smile. "Well, he's on his way. Thank you for letting us stay the night here, Hannah."
          Hannah could remember making no such offer, but she smiled kindly at her neighbor, and said, "You're always welcome here, dear. This old house is too big for just me. Let me go tidy up the guest room." She made to stand, but Jenny waved her back into her seat.
          "No, don't trouble yourself about it, Hannah. We'll fix it up later. I'm going to put my car in your garage, if that's all right with you?"
          It was an unusual request, but the day - as little as she could remember of it - seemed full of such oddities. "Certainly, dear. Just pull up on the handle, the lock hasn't worked in years. You may need to move Denise's tricycle to fit."
          Jenny smiled her thanks, and left to move her car. "Well, young Jimmy," she said to the boy when they were alone, "I'm going to go tidy up the guest room for you and your mother. Why don't you go find those trucks in the parlor."
          "Nintendo's more fun," the boy sulked.
          Hannah shook a finger at him chidingly. "Now you know your Mama doesn't like you playing those video games very long. Maybe if you're a real good boy I'll let you play a game after supper, ok?"
          He gave in more easily than she would have expected. "K." He scurried off to the parlor, leaving Hannah alone to go set up the extra room for her unexpected guests.
          She returned downstairs fifteen minutes later to find Jenny washing the teacups and Jimmy driving matchbox cars all over the kitchen walls, tables, counters, and walls (with all the appropriate sound effects). Hannah smiled in tolerant amusement at the sudden obstacle course filling her kitchen. "Now what would you two like fixed up for dinner tonight?" she asked, though the question really burning in her was 'To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?' Only she feared that she had already been told the answer to that.
          "Oh, nothing fancy, Hannah. I already feel like I'm imposing."
          Hannah laughed. "Don't be silly, dear. I don't see enough of you, and you only live right down the road. How does . . ." she paused and considered her options, "Chicken a la King sound?" She held up a finger when it looked like Jenny would protest, "I'll be insulted if you say no, Jenny."
          The young mother smiled, "Chicken a la King sounds wonderful, Hannah."
          "Good," Hannah clapped her hands. "First thing we'll need is the chicken. Be a dear and go to the freezer downstairs . . ." Jimmy and all his wheeled hazards were shooed out the kitchen, and Jenny was pressed into service mixing, measuring, and fetching things for the next hour. Though their conversation revolved mostly around the meal they were cooking, Hannah was given to understand that some man name Al was expected to arrive late that night or early the next morning. Mention of Mr. Lewis resulted in a nervous change of topic, so Hannah decided to steer clear of the topic. If Jenny wanted to discuss it, she would when she was ready. Hannah hoped whatever marital problems they were having wouldn't be worsened by the arrival of this Al person, whom Hannah gathered was some sort of old boyfriend. Jimmy needed a stable home, and while it was obvious Jeff was not the boy's real father (Jeff was as fair-skinned and blond as Jenny), Jenny had spoken highly of him during one of their early conversations.
          After dinner, Hannah began a game of Candy Land before Jimmy could remember her promise about the Ninetendo. Jimmy won the first game, and convinced his mother and Hannah to play another round by promising to take a bath and go to bed right after it. Jimmy won again (with only three counts of cheating this time), took a bath, and put on one of Denise's least girly pairs of pajamas. Obviously, her guests hadn't expected to spend the night here any more than she expected to have them. That Jenny did not run home to pick up a pair of pajamas indicated some trouble. But Hannah did not press, in part because she thought she might have already been told but mostly because she wasn't certain she wanted to know. Her request to hide away the car in the garage suddenly had a sinister conotation to it.
          Jimmy seemed blissfully unaware that anything was amiss. If anything, the boy seemed happier and less edgy than normal. Jenny, though she tried to hide it, was anxious and nervous. When the doorbell rang at quarter after nine, Jenny jumped, and nearly dropped the Little Golden Book she was reading to Jimmy. The boy sat up so fast, Hannah suspecte him of faking his earlier drowsiness as his mother read to him. "Papa Al!" he exclaimed, clamoring out of bed and running out of the room before either woman could stop him. Jenny and Hannah followed at a slightly less breakness pace. When they reached foyer, Jimmy already had the door opening. A man no taller than Jenny stepped into the house, nervously clutching a Navy hat in his hands. He wore dress whites, and Hannah would guess his age to be in his late fourties.
          Jimmy closed the door behind him. The stranger smiled uncertainly at the boy, then nodded equally nervously toward Jenny. Only when he looked at Hannah did he seem to gather his reserves. "Hello, you must be the friend. Thank you."
          He had lost her already and he had just arrived. "Hannah Gold, please, call me Hannah."
          He took her hand in a firm handshake. "Albert Calavicci," he smiled winningly, "You can call me Al." Hannah saw Jenny roll her eyes.
          "She's hardly your type, Al," Jenny said dryly. As he took his hand back, Hannah noticed the gold band on his finger. Married. Perhaps her fears about his affect on Jenny's marriage were unfounded.
          Al shrugged, his uneasiness apparant by the rotation of his naval hat in his hands. "I came as quickly as I could," he said.
          Jenny checked her gold watch. "Five and a half hours since we hung up. That's pretty good time from New Mexico." Hannah's brows raised in surprise.
          He waved it off as though anybody could drop everything, pack, and travel more than halfway across the country in five and a half hours. "I hope it's all been uneventful here since you called." Oddly, he was avoiding meeting Jenny's gaze.
          "Unless you consider a game of Candy Land or a dinner of Chicken a la King eventful . . ." Jenny returned, as evasive as he was being. Hannah decided there was definitely something going on here that she didn't know about.
          Al's eyes lit briefly. "Chicken a la King?" he repeated almost reverently. Clearly it was an event of some worth to him.
          "There are left-overs," Hannah offered hospitably. Lots of them, too.
          He smiled at her, but even as he did so, his dark eyes lost their excitement. In that one second though, she had made an observation that she could not banish. This man had Jimmy's eyes. Papa Al Jimmy had said when the doorbell rang. Hannah's eyes strayed to his wedding band again, and her initial good impression of him turned sour. She wondered if his wife knew of his affair or his illegitimate child.
          "How," Al began, then tried again, "Did you."
          "You're no more coherent sober than you are drunk," Jenny commented, and Hannah's opinion plummeted further.
          Al winced. "I suppose I deserve that. But you could have told me before today."
          "How, Al?" Jenny asked bitterly. Hannah was startled by a touch on her hand. She looked down to see Jimmy enfold himself between her arm and body. He no longer looked happy. He looked scared. Jenny and Al were too busy reaquainting themselves to notice. Hannah gave the boy a gentle squeeze. "You were in Vegas for two weeks, then left. New Mexico is an awful lot of ground to cover to find a person. Especially for a pregnant single woman with no income."
          "Is that why you married that nozzle?"
          Jenny's blue eyes seemed to turn almost black in her anger. Jimmy clung tightly to Hannah's leg. "Like you have any right to criticize my marriage, Al? How may ex-wives do you have?"
          Al held up his hand with the gold band. "Number Five seems to be gonig just fine, Jen."
          "Number Five?" Jenny repeated sarcastically. "Don't you even know her name?"
          Al shook his head, but it was not in answer to her taunt. He looked past her shoulder for a few seconds, and Hannah was surprised to see the man's anger disappear. Whether he bled it away into nothingness or locked it away for later, she couldn't tell, but when he spoke again, his voice was calm. "Look, Jenny, I'm sorry. I said I would help and I mean it." Jimmy's grip loosened ever so slightly. "Truce?"
          Jenny looked at his offered hand as though expecting it to turn into a snake. She sighed. "We're both going to regret this." She took the hand. "Truce." They shook on it.
          On Hannah's leg, Jimmy startled. He let go and ran over to Al. Tentatively, he touched his father, then jumped back as though surprised. Al looked down at him curiously, then at Jenny. "Is that some obscure Virginia greeting that I'm supposed to return?" But Jenny looked just as mystified as Al looked and Hannah felt.
          "You're all here, now," Jimmy said cryptically.
          With a baffled shrug sent in Jenny's direction, he agreed, "Yeah, I'm all here now."
          "So you can play Duck Hunt now?" Jimmy asked, his eyes lighting excitedly.
          Al looked to Jenny for guidance. The young mother rolled her eyes. "Duck Hunt is a Nintendo game," she explained to Al, then turned to her son, "And right now, it is past your bedtime, so nobody's going to be playing Duck Hunt." She looked over at Hannah, "Could you put him to bed?"
          Jimmy stamped a foot, and jutted forward his jaw. "No. My family. I talk, too." Strangely, he looked toward Al for support when Hannah tried to shepard him toward the stairs.
          "Wait, Hannah," Al began.
          "It's way past his bedtime," Jenny cut him off. Jimmy's pleading eyes sought Al.
          Al shrugged at the boy. "Sorry kiddo. We won't talk about it without you, ok?"
          Jimmy frowned suspiciously, but reluctantly agreed. "Ok." Hannah herded hiim up the stairs, tucked him in, and gave him a good-night kiss. She left the door slightly ajar so the light from the hall would keep away the monsters. When she returned downstairs. Al and Jenny were arguing again.
          "I am not trying to undermine your authority!" Al exclaimed, more surprised than angered by the accusation, Hannah believed. "He went to bed, didn't he?"
          "That's not the point. He did when you told him to, not when I did!"
          Al stared at her, apparently completely baffled by this line of reasoning. "You're holding me responsible for Jimmy coming to me for an appeal?"
          "You said 'Wait Hannah'."
          Al spread his hands helplessly. "Ok, I won't said 'wait Hannah' anymore." Al was obviously trying to concede the round, but he was just as obviously missing her point. Jenny just shook her head, unable to explain that by those two words, Jimmy had seen an opening for staying up which shifted the decision from her to Al.
          "You and Five don't have kids, do you," she shot back instead.
          "We've only been married a few months."
          "Oh," Jenny said with a exaggerated understanding. "That would be why you're still together." That Al took no obvious offense to this did nothing for Hannah's opinion of him. He only shrugged and waved it off.
          "Look, Jenny, I just flew over nine or ten states inside a tiny little tin can that handles like a tub in a hurricane. Can we either talk about Jeff or find me a couch?" They did both. Hannah led them into the parlor, where she took the rocking chair, Jenny took the arm chair, and Al took the couch. Hannah found her latest work-in-progress and began to knit even before Jenny settled into her seat.
          Jenny drew in deep breath, smoothed out her skirt, and said, "Well, you got the bare facts this afternoon. I'd rather not go into details."
          Al nodded slowly, and placed his naval hat on the cushion beside him. "Where do you want to go from here?"
          "Divorce." Hannah dropped a stitch. Apparently whatever Jenny and Jeff's problems were, they were more serious than she had imagined. Serious enough to warrant not only a divorce, but calling Al for help. "I don't want to take the easy way-"
          "Jenny," Al said sternly, breaking her off. "He's beating you and he's beating Jimmy. Divorce isn't the easy way, it's the only way." Hannah not only dropped the stich, but she dropped the whole scarf as well. Oh, yes, the sitution was far worse than she imagined. Al and Jenny paid her little heed.
          Jenny nodded slowly. "That's what . . . someone told me this afternoon."
          "Ok, so you'll get a divorce. What else? Are you going to press charges?"
          Jenny looked at him as though he had grown another eye. "No."
          "Why?"
          "Because." If there was more to that reason, she wasn't saying.
          "Because why?"
          Jenny glared at him with less venom than most of her glares tonight had held. "You're as bad as Jimmy."
          "Good. Because why?"
          "You have a one-track mind, don't you?"
          "So Sam tells me. Because why?"
          Her question this time was more curious than the obvious attempts to turn the conversation the previous two had been. "Who's Sam? Your mistress?"
          Al choked. "What an image. No. Samuel Beckett is a co-worker of mine."
          Jenny blushed and giggled. "Sorry."
          "Because why?"
          A spark of real anger touched her eyes and tone as she asked, "You just won't drop it, will you?"
          "He hurt you and he hurt Jimmy. Why shouldn't he go to jail for it?"
          "He was gonna kill her." The three adults turned toward the wavering voice. Jimmy stood in the doorway, holding a pillow by its corner, his hair tossled, and his eyes serious. "You said you wouldn't talk about it without me."
          Al skipped over the accusation. "Why do you say he was going to kill her, Jimmy?"
          Jimmy looked at his mother as though asking permission for something. She gave no reply that Hannah could interpret. "Mister Hannah and, and the invisible man told me so. Tomorrow at lunch it was going to happen."
          Unexpectedly, Jenny came in on his side. "Don't discount it so quickly, Al. The invisible man gave us your phone number." Al opened his mouth, then closed it again quickly, a stunned look on his face.
          "Then if this invisible man who knows things he has no right knowing says Jeff killed you tomorrow, then shouldn't you want him locked away even more?"
          She looked away. "He's my husband, Al."
          "He's a -" Al looked at Jimmy, and Hannah saw him change his word of choice, "nozzle."
          Jenny looked at her watch, exclaimed about the time, and decided that it was everybody's bedtime now.

* * *

"Did I really punch him in the face the first time I saw him?"
          Jenny smirked, and propped herself up on one elbow. The mattress shifted under her movement. "Hon, if you think that's all you did, you've not recoved your whole memory. It was an act of God that you weren't charged with aggrivated assault. If he hadn't just called Jimmy a whore's son, I'd have pressed charges against you instead of him. Since he was eventually found guilty of physical abuse, the police sort of pretended not to notice his injuries."
          "Sort of?"
          She smiled teasingly at him, then said mock seriously, "I wouldn't recommend getting in a bar fight in Arlington County, Virginia. Your violent past history might give you a few days in jail."
          Al grinned, though Jenny did not return it, now. "How good did I get the nozzle?" he asked, curious.
          "The one punch to his face broke his nose, and the fist to the stomach doubled him over, but I imagine it was the knee to his manhood that hurt him the most." She shook her head, "You fight awfully dirty, Al."
          Al shrugged the one shoulder that wasn't supporting his weight. Then, with a grin, he leaned nearer his wife and whispered, "Sam says I have a filthy mind, too."
          Jenny laughed, and reached across him to turn out the light.