A Touched by An Angel / Quantum Leap Crossover

By: Yvette Jessen

Prologue, Arizona 1996

Doctor Sam Beckett generally could tell by instinct alone when he was about to leap, but this time, he did not have any idea that it was coming until it did. Generally, his favorite part of quantum leaping was the end of the leaps when all the problems were resolved and he had emerged the hero. Yet, this time, he realized that he could hardly wait to get out of there.

When the welcoming blue lights swallowed him up, he felt himself being pulled out of the darkened room where the loud and pulsating music was and into a new identity and place. As he remained in limbo for several moments, he knew that just about anything he were to encounter had to be better than the place, which he had left behind.

The blue haze from the leap eventually faded and he blinked several times as the bright lights of his new surroundings blanketed him. Immediately he realized that he was outside, in a seated position, and a gentle breeze was wafting over him. Thank God it’s quiet here, was the first thought that cursed through his mind.

He raised his head to see that the late day sky, meshed with its purples, blues, and pinks was truly a sight to behold. All around him the peaked hills and valleys seemed to beckon him. It looked as though he had leaped into a painting of the wild west. Large saguaro cacti seemed to be bypassing him in a blur, which left him to conclude that he was in a car and in motion.

As the wind blew against his face, he looked around to check for open windows, and noticed that he was sitting in the backseat of a convertible of some kind. He couldn’t tell from this vantage point what the make of the car was, but he guessed from the size, that it was an American made car, a classic of some kind. It appeared to be in pristine condition, so his very first thought was that the owner obviously took great pride in it.

His gaze abruptly shifted and he could make out the silhouettes of two women seated in the front. The driver, looked to be heavy set with graying hair piled high on her head and this was bunched together by a silver butterfly barrette. She was humming, and tapping her mahogany colored hand against the steering wheel in time with her own music. The rings that adorned her fingers glistened as the rays cast by the sun reflected small prisms of light from them. Heavy looking earrings hung from the lobes of her ears, and for a fleeting moment, he figured that she had more jewelry on than Mr. T, whoever that was. The second woman looked to be several years younger, at least that was what he could surmise, since he could not see her face. All he could see was the straight auburn colored hair that hung down over her thin shoulders.

The car’s comfortable seats were soft to the touch, and he could feel his head leaning back against the cushioned headrest. For a weary time traveler, the sound of the older woman’s soulful humming was nothing short of heaven. I haven’t heard that kind of voice in such a long time, he thought as he lazily closed his eyes. It was such a warm feeling, he thought as a sense of relief washed over him.

Opening his eyes once again, he still did not know conclusively if he was a woman or a man. He hoped that he had leaped into a man, but instead of remain in contemplation about it, he cast a glance down at his clothing hoping for some sort of indicator. He touched the fabric and felt the crispness of the white collarless shirt he wore. A light beige colored jacket with matching shoes and slacks seemed to complete his look. He reached for the buttons that extended down over his chest and tried to remember which side the buttons were supposed to be on for a man, and which side for a woman.

Giving up on this, he raised his hand and touched his hair. It was long, but tied back in a casual pony tail. Since the rubber band had started to pull, he loosened it, and allowed his hair to fall freely down over his shoulders. He lowered his hand, but could still feel the locks of hair wafting in the breeze. Rather than pay it any mind, he ran his hand across his chin and feeling the hard stubble that lined his face, he smiled despite himself. Thank God, he thought with relief, I’m a man.

He sank back against the seat, his breathing slow and even. This was different than the other leaps, he thought. Generally, he had been dropped into the middle of some of the most embarrassing situations imaginable. Yet now he was in a quiet place where he was not expected to speak or do something that was completely out of character for him. He inhaled the dry desert air and savored the solitude.

Glancing skyward, Sam smiled as he realized what a beautiful place this was. It was getting darker, but he could still see that the clouds that covered the sky hung lazily in the horizon. He began to feel a sense of oneness with the sky overhead. For the first time in what felt like ages, he did not stop to ponder what day or year it was. Instead he resolved himself to simply enjoying the moment.

As each second ticked by, he realized that his memories of where he had been before landing in this place had faded from his consciousness completely. What had he done prior to finding himself here? He wondered as he closed his eyes. Yet, by this time, Sam had ceased to care. He opened his eyes once again, his gaze now centered on the scenery that surrounded him.

He closed his eyes after several moments and drifted off to sleep only to open them about an hour later. It was no question, the drive felt like it was taking days. After about half an hour of staring off into space, he realized that he couldn’t take anymore of the silence and started to fidget as the typical questions he generally had at the start of every new leap filled his mind. Who, where and when was he?

He dug in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a pocket watch and a cloth handkerchief. He opened the watch, stared down at the face, and then closed it again. My grandfather used to have a watch like this, he thought, or was it my uncle? The leaping had indeed swiss-cheesed his memories.

He returned it to the pocket he had retrieved it from before unfolding the handkerchief. He was doubtful if it would help him figure out who he was, because the last time he had found his name on anything was during his childhood in rural Indiana.

Of course, it was just as he had surmised, this did not give any indication whatsoever. Embroidered in one corner of the small piece of cloth was a fancy letter ‘A’, but nothing else. Who was this guy? He wondered, and what was he doing running around without any sort of identification on him?

Seconds later, the auburn headed woman turned around. He guessed that she was checking to see if he was awake. Since he was bored by the silence, he hoped that she would say something. Instead of saying anything to her, he took in her appearance.

She was young and quite beautiful, he thought despite himself. Her hair hung down daintily over her shoulders and her brown eyes were filled with warmth. Her floral print sundress gave off a conservative look, but he could not tell what year he was in by her appearance. She seemed to have a timelessness in her stance.

“Andrew?” She spoke her voice emerging accented, and he concluded that she must be from Ireland or Scotland. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” She asked, her voice depicting a sisterly like concern.

Sam could almost tell instinctively that he was supposed to share a bond of some sort with this woman. Seeing as she was sitting shotgun and he was lying in the backseat, he concluded that their relationship was on a platonic level and this alone caused a sigh of relief to emerge from between his pursed lips. For once, he would like a simple uncomplicated leap where no woman was throwing herself at him. Instead of speaking of this, he regarded her for several minutes before offering an answer.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he managed. As these words emerged from him, they seemed to fill the air with an almost unnatural and forced rhythm. He could not help but ponder if she even noticed the discomfort that seemed to encase him.

Of course there was no way that she could possibly know that the real Andrew was back in the waiting room and he was a time traveler who had taken his place. His thoughts abruptly shifted to Al.

Generally his smart-mouthed friend was reliable and would show up the moment Ziggy had managed to pin down where and when he had leaped. Yet, right at this moment, he knew it was harder because he was in a moving car. Even with memory lapses the size of the Grand Canyon in his head, Sam knew that the computer at Project Quantum Leap would never be able to pin him down until they had reached their destination.

Instead of allowing her to continue pressing him, he decided to take the offensive and probe her for some information. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason really, you just seemed a wee bit distracted,” she answered and smiled. “I pondered for a time as to whether or not you had managed to get over the situation back in Albuquerque.”

Well that explains the landscape, Sam thought. They must have left New Mexico and were now driving in the direction of Arizona. This was easy for him to infer because the sun was easing down over the horizon in the very same direction they were driving in. Any person with even a small amount of scientific knowledge could deduce that, he thought.

At the same time, however, he could not help but ponder what specifically had happened in Albuquerque, and why it was he and his companions were leaving. Abruptly, as if on cue, a strange feeling suddenly began to form in the pit of his stomach, and he could feel an almost overwhelming sense of guilt engulfing him. Oddly enough, as quickly as it came, it departed once again.

Without speaking further, his attention diverted and he found himself staring at the landscape surrounding the car. He loved this sort of environment because it reminded him so much of home. Instead of being able to sink into these contemplations, his thoughts were abruptly diverted back to his companions when the woman in the passenger seat spoke again.

“I figured that just about every Angel of Death can handle issues of this kind, but I also knew that you did share a close bond with Melanie Stevenson.”

Melanie Stevenson. Sam filed the name away, but what left him utterly speechless were the other words this woman had said. She had distinctly said the words Angel of Death and this left Sam sitting and regarding her through wide eyes. Eventually, he looked away from the woman as disbelief washed over his weary face. “Oh boy,” he muttered under his breath.

New Mexico, 1999

As the blue haze faded, the Angel of Death named Andrew opened his eyes to see that he was now seated on what appeared to be a table in a bluish white colored room. He blinked a few times, his hands reaching up to rub his face. Where am I? He thought as he tried to remember the last thing that had happened to him before ending up here. What has happened to me? The question ravaged his mind as he felt the effects of memory loss overtake him.

“I was sitting in Tess’ car, I should still be there,” he muttered as he tried to pinch himself. When he noticed that all it did was hurt, he stopped. “We hadn’t reached where we were going, but where were we going?” He paused as he looked around the room. “Father, where am I?”

When he heard no answer, he looked down at his clothing. Instead of being dressed in his warm colored jacket and pants, he found himself dressed in a cold white long sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of matching pants. He looked down at his feet and could see the toes of the white tennis shoes peering out from beneath the hem of his pants. He reached up and touched his head, his familiar long hair now gone, and in its place, his hair was short and cropped.

He closed his eyes for a moment as the door opened and slowly closed. He did not seem to hear it until a thumping sound emerged and he opened his eyes and turned around. “Where am I?” He spoke again, his gaze now on the man who stood next to the closed door.

“I’m afraid that that may not be so easy for me to explain,” came the rehearsed response and this gave Andrew the chance to take in the man’s appearance. He was a strangely dressed character, his clothing consisting of various shades of green. His futuristic looking shirt shimmered in the light of the room, the buttons covered by a lime green colored tie that was bunched at his neck. His pants and hat were both emerald green. In his hand he held a wrapped cigar poised between his index and middle fingers but did not unwrap it. Instead, he remained motionless appearing to Andrew as though he wanted nothing more than to go and enjoy the stogie.

There must be rules against smoking, he concluded as the man reached where he was sitting and regarded Andrew through a pair of warm brown eyes. “My name is Al,” he introduced himself. The expression that he carried on his face seemed kind enough, but it was obvious that he was stressed. “Generally our psychiatrist, Vereena comes in, but she’s out, so I suppose you’re just going to have to deal with me.”

Andrew said nothing, his discomfort obvious, but he was still not certain of what to make of this place or the man who had addressed him. “What’s your name?” Al eventually asked, somehow not liking the prolonged silence.

“Andrew,” he said, his voice almost automatic. “What is this place?”

“It’s called the ‘waiting room’,” Al explained. “What’s the last thing you remember before coming here?”

“Not very much, I was in a car with my friends and we were driving somewhere, but I don’t really remember where specifically we had been or where we were going,” he said. “My memories seem to be popping in and out and I can only recall seeing these very large cacti before I found myself here.”

“Arizona, perhaps?” Al asked and Andrew nodded. “OK, we got a place possibly established. What’s your last name?”

“I don’t have one,” Andrew said as though that is the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have one or you don’t remember it?” Al asked. “There’s a difference you know.”

“I realize that, but I’m telling you the truth, I don’t have one,” Andrew said.

“Perhaps you just forgot it. Well if you happen to remember it, then that information would be very helpful to us,” Al said as he took a deep breath. “The easiest way for me to help you get back to wherever it is you came from would be for you to tell me everything you know about yourself and what you were doing before arriving here. Once we find out what Sam is supposed to do as you, then he’ll leap out of you and you’ll go back,” he paused. “Now tell me this, what is the date?”

“March 2, 1996,” Andrew said.

“Do you remember anything else?” Al asked.

“It was like I said just now, we were driving through the desert,” Andrew related. “I don’t recall where specifically we were going.” He took a deep breath and continued to speak, his voice soft. “I am afraid that your friend, Sam, cannot do anything to help me, that’s simply not possible.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, I cannot be helped in this strange way,” he said.

“What sort of arrogant comment is that?” Al asked with a snort.

“You don’t understand, I’m not trying to be arrogant,” Andrew said. “Al, I am not a typical man, even if I may look like one.”

Al looked at him, his eyebrows arching as his eyes unconsciously rolled and he found himself wishing that he could find the right words to say. It was very rarely that Al Calavicci was struck dumb by something that was said. This man seemed to be trying to present him with a mystery. ”You’re not typical?” He asked his tone of voice rising in pitch, thus indicative of his disbelief.

“No,” came the almost immediate response.

“So, do you want to tell you why it is you’re not, as you say, ‘typical’?”

“I generally should not,” Andrew began.

“Humor me,” Al shot back. He was growing internally impatient with Andrew’s beating around the bush. Instead of getting rude about it, as he felt inclined to do, he simply waited for the answer.

“The reason that it is not possible for your friend to help me…” Andrew began, a pause for dramatic emphasis filling the room before his next words emerged. “…I am an angel sent by God.”

“An angel?” Al asked.

“Yes,” emerged the firm answer.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” He asked.

“It’s not a matter of you supposing to do anything.”

“Well, listen buddy, I have had my share of angelic encounters and frankly speaking, you really don’t fit the bill,” he said.

“Yes, I remember Angela,” Andrew said with a slight chuckle. “She got into serious trouble for calling you a demon.”

“How did you know about that?” Al asked.

“I told you, I’m an angel,” Andrew said.

“OK, OK, that’s what you said, but I don’t buy it,” Al responded. “People who come in here claim to be a lot of things.”

“Claiming doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Andrew said.

“Perhaps you and your friends were mistaken and should have been driving east, say, in the direction of Bellevue,” Al mused under his breath.

Andrew sighed, but stood up and looked at him. “You asked me for the truth, and I have given it to you. What more must I say to make you believe me? Perhaps I should tell you what I do know about you.”

“OK, give it your best shot,” Al responded.

“Alright, for starters, your name is Albert, not Al,” Andrew began.

“Everybody knows that,” came the response. “Ninety-nine percent of all guys named Al were given the name Albert at birth. It’s like people named Andrew being called ‘Andy’.”

Andrew cringed, thus indicating that he disliked being called ‘Andy’. Instead of verbalizing this point, he looked at Al. “You are of Italian descent, your last name is Calavicci, and you were a POW in Vietnam. I also know that you almost died there.”

Al’s eyes widened but not a single word emerged from between his lips. Instead he started to back away from Andrew. “You look too young to have been in Nam, my friend,” he muttered under his breath.

Andrew shook his head. “I was there,” was all he said.

“You couldn’t have been there, you look young enough to be my son,” Al said snidely. He regarded the younger man who was in Sam’s essence, but having been present since the first time Sam had leaped, he had learned early on how to distinguish the auras of both ‘leaper’ and ‘leapee’. “You were probably in diapers when I shipped out.”

“Don’t bet on it, Admiral Calavicci,” Andrew said without missing a beat.

“Alright, if you’re an angel like you say, then what sort of angel are you?” Al asked.

“I’m an Angel of Death.”

“Right,” Al raised his head and looked at Andrew. “Are you sure that you’re not just here play with my mind? Or perhaps some nozzle with a sick sense of humor put you up to this.” As he spoke, the only thing he could see was that Andrew’s expression had not changed at all. In fact, this professed angel had once more seated himself on the table, his hands clasped in front of him and his gaze never faltering.

“That’s simply not possible,” he said shaking his head. “Even if it were, Sam can’t leap into angels.”

“Perhaps you say this because up until now, it has never been done,” Andrew said.

“Either that, or you’re simply in need of a psychiatrist,” Al said. “Did you talk to anyone else since you’ve been here?”

“No, you’re the only person I have seen since coming here,” Andrew responded simply as Al started towards the door leading outside. “But I’m telling you, Al and deep down inside, you know that I speak the truth.”

Without saying a word, the project observer stepped out into the corridor and closed the door firmly behind him, thus leaving Andrew trapped inside the waiting room.

Alone, Andrew took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Al had not given him anything to go on, and now he could feel the disorientation literally swallowing him alive. Opening his eyes, he got to his feet and started towards the door.

“Father, I need your help,” he whispered under his breath as he tried to pull open the now locked door. “I’m remembering specific things about Al, but I don’t really know what happened before I came here. Please, help me, I’m frightened.”

When no response emerged, Andrew closed his eyes for several moments. Almost like a flash, a name suddenly filtered into his consciousness. “Father, who is Teresa Bruckner and what relevance does she have with what has happened to me?”

No further responses to his inquiries emerged, instead the confused angel got down on his knees and continued to pray. As he did, instead of receiving answers, he was beginning to obtain even more information. After several minutes had passed, he nodded as he got to his feet and returned to his perch on the table to wait.

Arizona 1996

“What was that you just said, Andrew?” The woman’s gaze was still on Sam, and he raised his head to see that he was looking into a pair of confused brown eyes. “It sounded like ‘oh boy’, but I’ve never really heard you say things like that.”

“I don’t?” He asked, his voice emerging a low stammer. Once she had nodded affirmatively, he took a deep breath and continued. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Besides, haven’t you ever felt somewhat confused or disillusioned about things?”

“I suppose I have,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders and much to his surprise she said nothing else. Instead, she turned back around in her seat.

Sam watched her out of the corner of his eyes for several minutes, and when he felt secure enough, he raised his head and cast a fleeting glance at his reflection in the rearview mirror. This revealed to him that he was a man in his early to mid thirties. He had wavy shoulder-length blonde hair, green eyes, and a clean shaven face. He was a handsome man, but seemed to have no distinguishing characteristics. In fact, to Sam, he just looked like a strange mix between a boy scout and a rock musician.

“By the way, what was that you just said?” He eventually asked, his attention no longer focused on his appearance, but rather on her. Upon hearing his voice, she turned back around.

“When?” She asked.

“Just now, before you started to analyze my vocabulary,” he responded, the words emerging curt instead of friendly as he had initially intended. This provided him with distraction from his reflection to the dialogue he was having with the, still nameless, woman.

“All I’m saying is that I know you generally don’t like me to dwell on or bring up your past assignments. Andrew, I do understand how you feel when children commit suicide, I feel the same way when China died, although I am not an Angel of Death. What I’m trying to say is that regardless of the departments that distinguish us, Tess and I want to be here for you, that is, if you want to talk with us about what has been happening.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” he hedged.

“Are you sure?” The woman asked.

“Yes, I’m sure, but if I do need to talk, I’ll let you know,” he said.

As soon as the words were out, the two of them fell into a sort of companionable silence. Two minutes later that silence was abruptly shattered when she spoke again. “Andrew?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’ve been concerned about you since we left Albuquerque,” the woman persisted.

Why doesn’t she just stop? He asked himself as he took a deep breath and then released it, all the while trying to keep his composure. “I know,” he said, all the while trying to offer her a look that would convince her to drop the subject. Of course, instead of achieving what he had intended, the statement roused the concerns of the woman driving.

“Andrew, Monica’s right, we have been worried about you,” she said. “Now, we’re almost to the hotel, we only have a few more miles to go. I think once we get there and we all can get settled, then you will be able to handle your next assignment with ease.”

“Assignment?” Sam muttered.

“Yes, I mentioned it before we left Albuquerque, you will be helping a young homeless woman, and Monica and I will be working as housekeepers at the hotel. There’s something there that needs cleaning up, and I don’t just mean the rooms. I think once we get there everything should become clearer for you two and then will run like clockwork.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Sam offered feebly, but the word ‘assignment’ seemed to get stuck in his throat. He knew that Tess was right about one thing, as soon as he managed to get some sleep, then everything would probably look much better than it presently did.

As luck would have, the woman called Monica was now sitting in silence for the remainder of the trip, and this left Sam alone with his contemplations. Seconds passed and she eventually looked at the eldest of the three. “Tess, did the Father give you anymore information about our assignments?”

“Only a little, He said that Andrew’s case is a young woman named Teresa, but our work will be the woman who owns the hotel. The word is, there is trouble brewing there, and she’s on the verge of losing everything.” She took a deep breath and glanced briefly at Monica before her attention returned to the traffic. “The Father has assured me that it will not be as difficult as the case we left behind.”

Monica nodded as the car abruptly lurched to a stop.

Sam opened his eyes at that moment to discover that they had reached a traffic light and he cast a second glance to the reflection in the mirror. “Oh boy,” he muttered a second time and shook his head. These people really do think they are angels, he thought as the light switched. This is not good.

As Tess drove through the intersection, he watched as they bypassed restaurants and cafés. Several miles further down the road and nearing the outskirts of town, he began to hear some loud and pulsating music. He took a deep breath when he realized that the car was slowing down and his much treasured silence had given way to the very same music that he had leaped away from.

He began to look around the parking lot and noticed that adjacent to the hotel where they were going to be staying, a two story building stood, its darkened front looming over the parking lot to the neighboring hotel. Across the street, a steady stream of cars were pulling into the parking lot for what appeared to be a local business. It looked to be the local hangout for high school or college kids, he thought.

Was this where the three of them were supposed to work? He pondered as Tess cut the motor. I guess so. His contemplations were abruptly stilled when Tess abruptly turned around, thus giving him a chance to take in her overall appearance.

She seemed to carry a sternness about her that was evident in her coal black eyes, but there was also an air of wisdom and kindness that seemed to emanate her overall stance. Not only that, but he could also sense an almost motherly like manner in her and he and Monica were probably like her adopted children. Whatever the case, he found himself taking an immediate liking to her.

“Well, this is the ‘Fairview Inn’,” Tess announced, but her gaze seemed to be locked on Sam, and the weary quantum physicist was left to ponder whether or not this woman could see through his act.

Her next words somehow indicated to Sam that his concerns were not of any significance.

“Andrew, why don’t you stay out here and wait for us? Monica and I will take care of the rooms,” she suggested and he found himself smiling with relief. “Is that alright, Angel Boy?” She added.

Instead of responding verbally, Sam slowly nodded and watched as Tess and Monica got out of the car and started to walk towards the door leading into the hotel’s small lobby.

~~~~~

As soon as he was alone, Sam glanced towards the building where he was going to be residing during this leap. As he stared at it one overwhelming thought seemed to embody him. This place looked as though it had been condemned before it was built. He slowly crawled out of the backseat of the car.

Once he was standing next to it, he began to survey his surroundings once again, his gaze centered on a large dwelling that stood adjacent to the worn down hotel.

The building looked as though it had more broken windows than intact ones. The front side of it was covered with concrete as well as dark colored bricks. The windows that were intact seemed to have candles glowing from behind them, thus indicating that the rooms were occupied, perhaps by the town’s homeless.

As it grew darker, he found himself shuddering as the cool breeze began to blow. People should not have to live like this, he thought bitterly as he found himself staring curiously at the building.

Could this be why I’m here? He asked himself as he noticed a young girl with long wavy brownish blonde hair running towards a doorway. She was dressed in a tattered dark colored dress, this her only protection from what could be described as an early spring cold snap. He watched as she shivered, but ran past where he was standing without so much as a word. It looked as though she was running away from something or someone, he thought sadly and took a step towards her. It was then that he realized that the music had subsided somewhat and his steps could easily be detectable.

Whatever the case, he realized after taking several steps that she had obviously heard the crunch of gravel emerging from beneath his weigh and quickly turned around. As she did, her eyes widened as they met his, and she turned back around as she quickened her pace. She looked to be afraid of something, and he wondered how it was that someone that looked this way could possibly have scared anyone.

By this time, she had reached a door that led into the dwelling. Burrowing her way past it, she managed to bypass the object that hung from one set of hinges down over the entrance. Like the large wooden door, it looked as though the entire building was now on its last leg and it was only a matter of time before it would cave in.

Once she had disappeared into the confines of the building, Sam continued to stare off in the direction she had gone in. I know her from somewhere, he thought as he tried to block out the impulse to run towards the building after her. Yet, his swiss cheesed memories could not detect where or when he had known her. The impulse to follow her was stronger than anything he could conceivably remember. For some reason, he had this feeling that talking to her would mean being reunified with a long lost friend.

By this time, she had reached what was apparently her dwelling because a candle was suddenly being lit and placed in the windowsill. As his eyes grew accustomed to this, he could make out her silhouette as she seated herself in front of the window and stared outside. He could not tell from his vantage point, however, that she was, in fact, watching him with profound interest.

Instead of continuing towards the building, Sam remained standing next to the car.

Seconds later, loud and pulsating music suddenly filled the area and he his attention diverted away from the building and back across the street. It looked as though a large street party was starting, and without warning, the music had suddenly reached a deafening pitch.

Beyond the parking lot, he could make out a large white colored water tower that was illuminated with light and literally standing over the town. The words: ‘Harlingen Tigers’ was printed across it in bold dark blue or black lettering. Based on this, he concluded that this was a college town and the kids were cruising the streets, this particular parking lot being their final destination.

Sam began to take in the appearance of the cars in order to establish some sort of timeframe that would indicate when he was. From the appearance of the other vehicles, it looked as though he had landed sometime during the mid nineties.

He inhaled slowly, the air filling his lungs as he waited somewhat impatiently for his guide to appear on the scene.

“Where are you, Al?” He muttered under his breath, all the while hoping that Ziggy had managed to finally pin down his precise location. He only knew that his name was Andrew, but he had no clue as to what he was supposed to be doing here. “Al?” He hissed the name once again as the imaging chamber door abruptly opened as though on command and the hologram appeared.

Saying nothing, Sam waited for him to come over to where he was standing, all the while Al was casually removing the beeping, colorful handlink from his pocket.

Instead of immediately speaking and putting his fears at ease, Al’s appreciative eyes were now on the car. After several minutes had passed, the project observer released a low whistle. “Woah, Sam that’s a fine set of wheels, are they yours?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said as Al held out his hand as though wanting to stroke it, but sighing when he realized with annoyance that, to him, it was a hologram and his hand simply passed through it.

“Now that is a car that one could take Tina out on the town in. The backseat is nice and big, huh?” Al said with an almost knowing wink.

“Would you please get your head out of the gutter for five minutes and tell me what I’m supposed to be doing here?” Sam asked as he looked at his friend.

“Calm down, Sam,” Al said as he put the cigar in his mouth and began to press some buttons on the handlink.

“Before you start, would you mind telling me what took you so long? It’s been hours since I leaped in and we’ve been in this parking lot for about ten minutes now. That would have provided Ziggy with adequate enough time to find me.”

“I realize that,” Al remarked. “But, if I told you what I discovered back in the waiting room, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” Sam said. “I probably can easily compare with what I’m feeling right now. It’s like I leaped straight into the ‘twilight zone’.”

“What do you mean?” Al asked. If truth were known, he was still feeling rather queasy about what had happened in the waiting room. Seeing Sam’s agitation added to the fact that Al did not want to say anything that could possibly alarm his friend. Instead of speaking further, he opted to keep silent and hope that Sam’s questions would actually be answerable.

“Everything feels different,” Sam confessed. “Maybe it’s just me, I don’t know, but I haven’t felt very comfortable since getting here. Al, please tell me what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

“I wish I could tell you something. Between Ziggy and that guy in the waiting room, I haven’t managed to find out a damn thing,” Al said as he took a deep breath. “Don’t think for a moment that I haven’t tried, because I have. But it’s not easy. I mean; do you have any idea who this guy claims to be?”

“His friends say that he’s an Angel of Death,” Sam said. “Of course, I don’t believe that for even a moment.”

“I know you don’t,” Al said. “But, I’m seriously starting to.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sam reasoned. “I need more to go on than just that.”

“You sound like my third wife, or was it my second…” Al began to muse as he took a draw on his cigar. “She was always hounding me for details…”

“Al, please, you can reminisce later,” Sam said, his voice emerging as a soft plea.

“Alright, alright, but I have to warn you that we’re still trying to figure this one out,” he said as he focused his attention on the multicolored flashing handlink. “Ziggy hasn’t been able to find out squat about this guy. To top that off, Andrew won’t even give us a last name. When I asked him what his last name was, he told me straight up that he didn’t have one.”

“OK, then maybe we should start with something easy, what’s the day and year?” Sam asked.

“March 2, 1996, you’re just east of Scottsdale, Arizona and from the looks of it, you’re in the middle of one of the seediest dives I have ever seen in my life. It looks like the sort of place for pimps and prostitutes with some extra large...” He began to move both of his hands in front of his chest, all the while balancing the handlink in one and the cigar in the other.

“Al,” Sam snapped warningly.

“Your name is…” The hologram’s voice trailed when he realized that this information had already been provided.

“…Andrew, yes, that much I know,” Sam finished for him. “Anything else?”

“Well, no, but why don’t you check his wallet for an identification or a drivers’ license?” Al suggested.

“I tried that already,” Sam responded. “All he’s got on him is a pocket watch and a handkerchief. It’s almost like he’s just dropped from the heavens or something.”

“Don’t creep me out like that, Sam, it’s been a long day,” Al said half seriously, his thoughts still on the dialogue he had shared with the real Andrew back in the waiting room.

“Do you really believe in all honesty that this guy’s an angel?” Sam asked. “Al, I can’t leap into non-existent people.”

“Was that before or after you leaped into a chimp?” The hologram asked, the smirk still covering his lips. Sam scowled, but before he could offer a comeback, Al continued. “Look, let’s just say we can agree that something very weird is going on.” He whacked the handlink once again. “The facts remain that Ziggy’s got nothing on this guy. Aside from what she’s been able to unearth, I have already spent more time in the waiting room with Andrew character than I would really wish to. He knows things.”

“What sorts of things?”

“He knew my name and he also knew about Nam,” Al said. “It really is mondo-bizarro, Sam. After he told me that he had seen me there, I decided that I would not stick around to get my tea leaves read.”

“Maybe he read about you in the paper and knew which buttons to push.”

“No way, this guy really does know things,” Al insisted.

“Maybe he’s a con man, a mental patient, an actor, or a wannabe, but he’s definitely not an angel. I mean; think about it. There is absolutely no logical way that I can leap into angels,” Sam said.

“That hasn’t been proven,” Al countered.

“Perhaps not,” Sam conceded. “Just see what you can find out. Maybe it will help if you try to come up with something on those two ladies he’s traveling with. Their names are Monica and Tess.”

“Let me guess, they have no last names either?” Al asked with a snort.

“Neither of them indicated it, but we’re on a first name basis with one another, so if they actually do have last names then perhaps this Andrew can tell you what they are,” Sam suggested.

“Oh no, I’m not going back in there,” Al hedged. “This guy is creepy, Sam. He talks about everything as though he is observing it from the outside.”

“Like you do sometimes?” Sam asked and paused for several moments. “All I know is without his help, we may not ever figure out why I leaped in here. You have to go back and talk to him.”

“What should I say?” Al asked as he brought the cigar to his lips.

Sam could tell by Al’s movements that his friend was nervous. He took a deep breath. “If it helps, I’m not thrilled by the way things are here myself. But, I do think that something very traumatic must have happened to Andrew. Tess and Monica seemed to indicate that I…I mean; he, knew a girl who had committed suicide. They spoke of it as though she was a child. But what really confuses me is that if someone did die, then why didn’t I leap in then instead of now? Perhaps I could have kept her from actually going through with it.”

“Yeah, maybe Andrew helped talk her into doing it and he’s now on the run from the law. It might explain why it is that he will not say his last name,” Al said dramatically. “He could be a wanted man.”

“You watch too many movies.”

“No, I’m just being logical, Sam,” Al said defensively.

Sam shook his head, “Logical? This coming from a man who just said that Andrew knew things and that he could be an angel? Look, if he was aiding someone with suicide, then I probably would have sensed something when I leaped in, but I didn’t. There is something very peaceful about this guy though, I sensed it almost immediately, and I really don’t think he caused Melanie to kill herself.”

“You got a surname on that Melanie?” Al asked.

“Yes, Stevenson,” Sam offered freely. “Does that help?”

“Maybe,” Al offered as he stuck the cigar into his mouth, and began to punch a few commands into the handlink. After a few beeps, he raised his head. “You bet it helps. Apparently, Melanie was a sixteen-year-old girl from Albuquerque. She had been forced by her parents to go into an honors program at her school, which she could not keep up with. The word going around the school she attended, is that she had a serious learning disability. Her friends knew about it, but her parents were completely oblivious. They were probably too caught up in their own lives to even realize what their child was going through. Anyway, to make a long story short, she failed to live up to these expectations, saw no way out, and bumped herself off. She did so in a pretty gruesome manner, too. She somehow managed to blow her brains out with a shotgun. Perhaps this Andrew fellow saw it happen.”

“Then your synopsis is accurate,” Sam said. “All three of them refuse to disclose their last names, and not one of them seems to be from anywhere specific.”

“They also claim that Andrew’s an angel,” Al cut in. He took another draw on his cigar and as he exhaled, the smoke hovered around his essence as though defining his aura.

Instead of speaking, Sam pressed a knob on the trunk and was surprised when it opened without a key. Peering inside, he released a sigh. “Strange, there’s no luggage in here and I didn’t see the ladies unloading anything before they went inside. If these people really are performers of some kind, then where are their costumes for a show? Why would they talk about ‘assignments’ as though they are cut off from the rest of world and why does Tess call me ‘Angel Boy’?” Sam pondered as he closed the trunk. “I have leaped into a lot of people, Al, but this Andrew is really a mystery.”

Al began to punch some numbers on the handlink and watched as it began to beep as though showing the very human emotion of annoyance. He whacked it, the beeping suddenly piercing the air with a high pitched squeal, and abruptly, it lowered until it had subsided.

“The only bit of news that I can give you is that in this state alone, there are a total of 2,539 men with the name Andrew or Andy running around. I can’t find out anything else without a last name,” Al said.

Before he could say anything further, he raised his head to see that Tess had stepped outside and started scanning the parking lot for him. “Uh oh, it looks like your boss lady is on the prowl, Angel Boy,” Al smirked as Sam shot him an angry glare.

As if on cue, Tess’ voice emerged. “Mr. Halo, what were you doing with the trunk open? Come on, Monica and I managed to rent us a couple of rooms. You’re in room number 12, and we’re right across the hall in room 14.”

Sam nodded but cast a glance towards Al. “Halo, my last name might be Halo,” he whispered urgently as he started to walk in the direction of the door leading into the hotel lobby.

“Strange name for an Angel of Death,” Al mused as the imaging chamber door flashed and filled up the area with light that only Sam could see.

“Would you just get going?” Sam groused. “I need to get inside before I blow my cover or Tess kicks my butt.”

“Or both,” Al snorted as he and the imaging chamber door vanished.

As soon as the hologram was gone, Sam had reached Tess, who stood rather like a drill sergeant with her hands planted firmly against her hips. “Andrew, you really are acting strangely. Are you sure this has nothing to do with Melanie?”

“No, Tess, I-I thought you wanted me to unload the luggage…” he began his voice unconsciously trailing.

“Luggage?” Tess looked at him skeptically. “Andrew, none of us have any luggage. Now, I want you to look at me and tell me truthfully if there is something wrong.”

“No. What makes you and Monica so certain that I need someone always looking out for me?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Well, we’ve been working together for about two years and I’ve never seen you this distant. Andrew, I don’t know what is happening, but I can tell you that we care about you and for some strange reason you don’t seem to be yourself right now.”

You can say that again, Sam thought sarcastically.

“For this job, we don’t need luggage and you know that. We always have what we need when we need it. Hopefully, by tomorrow you’ll be back to your old self.”

“I hope so,” he whispered, but doubted that the leap would be finished that quickly. Sighing, he decided he better try to act more like this Andrew, and less the skeptic he had become since landing here. Instead of speaking, he followed Tess through the door and into the hotel lobby.

What he failed to notice, however, was the girl who had gone into the abandoned building was still sitting in the window of her room and watching him.

New Mexico, 1999

After his talk with Sam, Al returned to the waiting room, his thoughts literally a jumble. He could not believe that Sam actually wanted him to try and dig for more information from Andrew. He stood in front of the door and looked down at the latch. His first attempt had been a disaster. All those personal things would have to be kept out of the dialogue, he concluded as he slowly opened the door.

If anyone were to have asked me what I preferred; I would probably have said that I would rather visit a school of man eating sharks than do this, he thought bitterly. It would be a lot more fun than spending another moment alone with Andrew and trying to make heads or tails of him.

It was no coincidence that Al’s thoughts seemed to literally careen out of control at the prospect of doing as Sam asked “OK, Al,” he tried to console himself. “You have to do this, it’s a favor to Sam.” He took a deep breath, unlocked the door and entered the waiting room, the door closing behind him.

Andrew was sitting on the floor and leaning up against the wall as he was coming in. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed as though in prayer. From between his lips, Al could make out some sort of mumbled speech, but no words seemed to come out of the man.

Instead of immediately approaching, he waited for Andrew to mutter a word that sounded like ‘amen’, before clearing his throat and making his appearance known.

Andrew raised his head warily and looked at him, his gaze still the same as when Al had visited him before. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to jump down your throat or anything, I just need to find out some more information from you,” he offered as a greeting.

“I’m not worried,” Andrew said, his voice neither emerging friendly nor forthcoming, but instead seemed laced with ever-present confusion.

“No, you only tremble when you’re overjoyed to see someone,” Al said all the while trying to keep his voice level. He motioned towards Andrew’s fidgeting hands, but said nothing further about the angel’s physical state. Instead of reaching for a chair, he sat down on the floor next to him. “Do you think we can try again?” He asked. “Sam really does need your help.”

“First, tell me why am I here, Al,” Andrew said. “Where are Tess and Monica?”

“Your friends are fine, they are going about their business as usual and have no idea that you’re uh…not quite yourself at the moment.”

“Can’t you tell me something besides that?” Andrew asked. “Please, just try to put yourself in my shoes.”

“I know that you’re really confused, but I don’t really know how much I can say. I know that there are a few things that I must explain to you, but my life story is of no consequence here. My friend Sam needs to know as much about you and your current situation as you can tell me. I will admit, if you are an angel, then perhaps you can understand why I am a bit hesitant. Even if you think I’m scum of the earth…”

“…I don’t, I never said that,” Andrew objected, thus interrupting him.

“Well, let’s just say hypothetically,” Al held up his hands in negation. “The point is, Sam is back in 1996 trying to fix something that went wrong in your life.” Al knew what it meant to explain all of this to people. He also knew beyond any doubt what information was too much and what was too little. The worst part of the task was what their reaction to it was going to be. The more times Sam leaped, the harder this job became as opposed to easier.

“My life?” Andrew looked at him perplexed. “But I’ve already told you this Al, I’m not human, I cannot experience what you have come to call ‘human life’.”

“You really are not ready to give up on this angel bit, are you?” Al asked.

“No,” Andrew whispered. “Don’t you even believe in God?”

Al took a deep breath. Hell yes, I do, he wanted to shout his frustrations at this man. He had his hang-ups with faith, specifically because he had lost his father at such a young age. Yet, to pacify Andrew, he simply bit down on his lip and offered a slight nod. This was not something he really wanted to deal with right now. Somewhere out there was a God, or an odd force of nature that had left him orphaned and was bopping his best friend from one life to another like a ball bearing in a pinball machine. He wished for nothing more than to actually see Sam again in the flesh, to sit down with him, have a cold beer, and talk over old times. He wanted to hang out with him as friends would do, not be some strange link between Sam’s current reality and the present.

Instead of immediately responding, he took a deep breath. “My personal beliefs about God are really none of your business.”

“Why do you say that?” The question was almost immediate.

“Because there are too damn many questions that I have about Him and none of these can be answered,” he said and took a deep breath. “Look, let’s just forget about the philosophy for now. I need your help in figuring out who you are so that I can help Sam who’s now in your time parading around as you.”

“He doesn’t know how,” Andrew muttered.

“But he is, and you said so yourself the last time we spoke,” Al said and took a deep breath. “I think perhaps we should change the line of questions a little, alright?”

“What is it you want to know?” Andrew asked.

“Well, for starters, what can you tell me about Melanie Stevenson?”

Upon hearing this name, Andrew could feel agony contorting his face, his eyes gazing downward and his shoulders slumping. “I can’t say very much, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” Al asked.

Andrew took a deep breath. “It’s difficult.”

“I know she’s dead, and I also know that death is not a subject that is fun to discuss. We need to know these answers, so please humor me here,” Al said. “It may very well be something that might explain why it is you and Sam have switched places.”

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment before offering a slow nod. “She was a young girl, an assignment of mine from several day’s back,” Andrew said with resignation in his voice. “I saw first hand how much of an emotional strain she was under. It was as though I had become an older brother to her. She had always come to me for advice and would talk about all sorts of things. The one that seemed constant was that her parents had very high expectations for her. She was completely miserable, but I wanted nothing more than for her to see the joy one can experience in living. In the end, I couldn’t reach her and she took a gun and...” his voice trailed off as he felt the tears brimming from beneath his eyes.

After several moments of silence, Andrew managed to recompose himself. He took a deep breath and released it before continuing to speak, his voice cracking as the last words emerged. “…I watched her unable to do anything.”

“Why didn’t you?” Al asked. “You just sat there and let her kill herself?”

“I wanted to help her more than anything in the world, but I couldn’t,” came the agonized response. “You have rules to follow in your job, keep it secret, and not tell others what you’re doing, and I do as well. I cannot physically get involved in free will and that means that I cannot force them to do something just because I want them to behave in a certain way. If they choose to end their life, then they will do it and I cannot stop them. I know this may be hard for you to believe or understand, but I have to let things happen as they will.”

“So you would rather sit idly by and watch a girl blow her brains out as opposed to doing something to help her?” Al asked skeptically. The more he listened to this guy, the closer he came to losing his cool.

“That’s not what I said,” Andrew replied. “I cannot get involved. I can try to talk them out of doing it, but that’s all. I would like to, but I cannot.” He lowered his head and reached into the pocket of his outfit in search of his handkerchief. When he didn’t find it, he used the sleeve of his garment to wipe the tears away.

Al rested his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, you did,” Andrew said simply, his words neither hateful nor accusing, they simply emerged as honest.

“OK, maybe I did,” he said as he got to his feet. “I just can’t imagine someone sitting idly by and watching another suffer without getting involved. If I did that, then I would feel as though I was holding the smoking gun myself.”

Andrew cringed as he looked at Al. “You don’t believe anything I tell you, do you?”

“I have a hard time with it,” Al said honestly.

“Since I cannot do anything for anyone here, it might be a good idea for me to inform you that my, or better yet, your friend Sam’s, assignment is a young woman named Teresa Bruckner,” Andrew said. “Maybe, instead of trying to find out all this information about me, you might see what you can find out about her.”

“Teresa?” Al’s face suddenly lost all color.

“You know her?” Andrew asked.

Al nodded numbly. “I met her when Sam leaped into her mother.” He admitted all the while knowing that he would never forget Teresa. He smiled slightly as he recalled the time he had spent in the child’s company. He had never had children, but yet, the time with Teresa gave him the feeling of having a daughter. “I promised her that I would come back, but it just didn’t happen that way.”

“Until now,” Andrew said. “Perhaps she’s why Sam leaped into me. Perhaps it’s not my life, but hers.”

“I don’t know, but you could be right,” he said as he glanced down at his hand. He recalled the first time the small child’s hand had gone through his holographic form. She could not have been much older than four or five at the time. She had seen Sam for who he really was, and she had called Al an angel. Fourteen years later meant that Teresa was nearly twenty. The child who had once heard him sing ‘Inchworm’ was now a young adult.

“Al, I don’t expect you to believe what I told you, and perhaps it was not so important as what is going to happen,” Andrew said.

“Is Teresa in some kind of trouble?” Al asked. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m saying that she’s my assignment and wherever it is I happen to be, is where she is as well,” Andrew said, this time he was overwhelmingly grateful that the dialogue was no longer centered on Melanie. “I can tell by looking at you that you care for her.”

“I remember so much about her, she was the closest thing I ever had to a daughter,” Al admitted as he took a deep breath. “Andrew, are you positively sure that Teresa Bruckner is Sam’s ‘assignment’?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Al, but the name was given to me after you left the first time,” Andrew said and watched as Al rushed to the door, but stopped for a moment and turned back around.

“If I find out you’re stringing me along…” Al threatened.

“I’m not, I can assure you,” Andrew said simply. “Teresa Bruckner is supposed to die some time this week, that is all I can tell you, but maybe Sam, as me, can stop her.”

Al nodded as he opened the door and rushed out into the hallway, the door closing with a loud slam behind him. I have never heard such a load of bilge in my life, he inwardly fumed as he made his way down the hall. At the same time, he could not help but contemplate what would happen if Andrew was telling the truth and he did not investigate it further.

Without another thought, he turned and rushed his way back down the hall in the direction of the control room. “Ziggy,” he spoke as he entered.

“Yes, Admiral,” the distorted voice of the computer emerged.

“I want you to find out where Teresa Bruckner is during the week of April 25 until, say, the first of May, 1996,” Al demanded.

“What does this have to do with Dr. Beckett’s leap?” The Computer asked, the cocky voice filling his ears.

“Just do it,” he snapped. “I want to know everything about where she is and what she is doing. Specifically if she happens to be in Harlingen, Arizona, about an hour east of Scottsdale.”

“Computing,” the computer said and after several minutes of impatience, Al raised his head to hear her summation. “Admiral Calavicci, Teresa Bruckner is in Harlingen during the timeframe you indicated and after having run the scenarios, I predict a 98.7% chance that Teresa Bruckner will die in the next forty-eight hours.”

“Is Dr. Beckett there to prevent her death?” Al asked.

“No,” the computer responded almost immediately.

“No?” Al snorted. “That’s not the answer I wanted to hear, Ziggy. I want you to run the scenarios again and tell me what the percentage is that Dr. Beckett is in Harlingen, Arizona in 1996 in order to save Teresa Bruckner’s life.”

The room settled into an awkward silence until the computer spoke. “23.8%, Admiral.”

“Then why is he there?” Al asked.

“Inconclusive, not enough data has been provided,” came the response and Al unconsciously clenched his fist and left the control room.

Arizona 1996

As Sam followed Tess into the hotel lobby, he began to take in the place. On one side of the room, a translucent sliding glass window was visible. Perpendicular to the window was the glass door leading outside. This looks like a converted doctor’s office, Sam thought skeptically as he took in the rest of the room’s attributes.

On the opposite wall from the window, a large, lumpy looking sofa extended along the back wall. In front of it, an old wooden coffee table was placed. Strewn across it were magazines and newspapers. He could not see the titles, but most of them looked to be dime store tabloids with gossip about celebrities and far fetched ideas. He could not stop to see what magazines had been laid out, but that did not interest him in the slightest. Instead he followed Tess through the lobby and down a narrow corridor. He passed by several doors, which were lining either side as he inhaled a pungent odor that seemed to be emerging from beneath the various rooms. He did not speak, instead he blinked a few times and waited until Tess stopped in front of one of the doors.

“This is your room, Andrew,” Tess said as she slipped a key into his hand. “We’re just across the hall if you need us.” As if adding emphasis to these words, she pointed to a second door. As she took a deep and tired breath, she started to walk away. “Good night, Angel Boy, I guess I will see you in the morning.” She stopped momentarily as she rested a motherly like hand on Sam’s shoulder. Squeezing it gently, she released the hold and then walked towards her and Monica’s room.

Once her door closed and he found himself alone in the hallway, relief washed over him. Although Sam knew that he liked Tess, he was really glad that she had given him some time to himself. There were a lot of things for him to think about even though he was too tired for all of it. This was probably one of the drawbacks to leaping around in time. He could experience two full days before getting any rest at all. He took a final look around the empty hallway and fingered the keys that now rested in his hand.

Looking down at the key ring, he could see a large piece of wood with the number 12 carved into it. He took a deep breath as he ran his hand over the surface of it and separated the key from the bulky object. The door seemed to be cut from the exact same kind of wood. He jammed the key into the lock on the door and turned it as he glanced up at the numbers on the door. Unlike the carved pieces of wood, golden stickers with the hologram-like black numbers ‘1’ and ‘2’ were stuck to it. One of the numbers was pasted on in a tilt as though the person who had affixed it had been in a hurry.

This is not overtly positive, he thought as he turned the knob and entered the room. As he came in, he groaned upon turning on the light and managed to close the door. Now he knew beyond any sort of doubt where the odors out in the hallway had originated. His eyes stung and he blinked from the pungent mixture of perfumed air freshener and moth balls. Both scents filled his nostrils and left him pondering if he would even get an ounce of sleep that night.

If Al thought this place was a dive from the outside, just wait until he gets a load of it from the inside, he thought skeptically. “I hate the smell of moth balls,” he grumbled under his breath, all the while wondering for a second time if he would even be able to sleep in this place.

On the second wall, a double bed was leaning up against it. The quilt was dark green in color and seemed to match the essence of the olive green décor. On either side of the bed, two small nightstands were placed, one had a lamp on it, the other a digital alarm clock and rotary telephone. Turning his attention to the floor, he could see that the carpet was retro 1970’s green shag. This room seems to reek of disco and lava lamps, he thought skeptically. It would seem as though not a lot of work had been put into this place, he thought as he continued to take in the room. The last renovation was probably in 1976.

He crossed the room with the intention of opening the curtains which adorned one side of it. He figured that once he had pulled it aside, he could air out the room somewhat.

Shoving the heavy curtain aside, a second and very loud groan escaped from between his lips. Although there was a glass window separating it, all that he could see was a solid brick wall and he wondered if anyone could actually fit between the two windows. He opened the window slowly and stuck his arm out and touched the opposite wall. I thought this sort of thing was not allowed, he thought but left the window opened in the hopes that it would air out the room.

“What sort of cruel joke is this?” He muttered when the desert like climate from outside seeped into the room. He ran his hands through his hair before closing the window and throwing the curtain back over the it. “Al was right, this place really is a dive.”

Trying to ignore the uncomfortable odors and his stinging eyes, he approached the large cabinet that was opposite the bed. Without thinking of what he was doing, he opened the cabinet. He did not expect to see that the cabinet was full, but that was exactly what he saw. Countless shirts, pants and jackets similar to what he was now wearing were hanging inside. It was as though all of these things had been there waiting for him to arrive. They looked to be his size or better yet, Andrew’s size. “This is not possible,” he stammered.

“What’s not possible, Andrew?” A voice emerged and he whipped around to see that the door leading outside had opened and Monica was now standing in the room. Apparently, she had entered when he had his back to the door.

“Nothing,” he managed as he turned around, the cabinet door closing with a thud. “Don’t you knock?”

“Sorry,” Monica offered sincerely. If there was anything strange about his question, she seemed not to notice. Instead she came over to the bed and sat down on the edge, her eyes watching him as he slid the chair over to the bed and seated himself.

“So, do you and Tess have a window in your room, by chance?” He asked casually.

“Not really, it’s much smaller than yours, but at least it lets in air. We do have another small one in the bathroom,” she said and went over to the bathroom door and opened it. “If you leave this door open and then open the window in the bathroom, then you might be able to at least get more fresh air in here.”

Sam nodded as she finished and he could suddenly feel a small gust of breeze as it wafted into the small room and he breathed in the cleaner air. No wonder so many Arizonians suffer from asthma, he thought grimly. “This place really reminds me of a hospital,” he said. “Did you notice that out in the lobby?”

“Actually, after we checked in, I made a similar remark and Tess told me that about twenty years ago, it had been a gynecologists office and had been converted into a hotel when the doctor retired,” Monica said honestly. “Apparently, Victoria Livingston inherited this place and converted it into a hotel because she could not find a doctor to rent it. Goes to show how some people can use their ingenuity to make something from practically nothing.”

“Well, it seems kind of strange to me,” Sam remarked.

“Yes, to me too, and I did ask the receptionist about it when we came in earlier, and she said that she’s the owner and that if I wanted the Ritz, then we should drive to Phoenix or Tucson.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Sam said as he looked at Monica and tried to take in this woman’s unpretentious stance.

She truly looked as though she was the sort of person who was full of surprises. On the one hand, she seemed to be a very gentle, almost naïve, sort of person. Yet, contrary to that, she also seemed to know how to be strong when it push came to shove. He always admired women who could take care of themselves. Instead of speaking of these observations, he merely looked at her and waited for her to say something else.

“Andrew, I wanted to tell you that I did tell Tess that maybe we should have taken some time off before taking on a new assignment. I figured that maybe you needed more time to get over Melanie before we took a new case,” Monica offered.

“Maybe Tess knew that having me being occupied with something new, it might help me to heal,” Sam offered honestly. “I can’t just focus all my energy on what happened in Albuquerque, I do have to move on, you know.”

“True, and we both know that Melanie is in a better place now,” Monica said diplomatically. “The Father will take very good care of her, of that I’m certain.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Monica, do you have any idea why we are here?”

“Well, you know about as much as I do. Tess said in the car that your assignment is a young woman who needs an angel, and she and I are supposed to work with the lady who runs this place,” Monica said honestly. “Other than that, I suppose we will have no choice except to play things by ear.”

“I wish I knew for sure,” he said. “I remember after you and Tess went to get the rooms, I saw this young woman outside. She apparently lives next door, if you can call what she is doing, ‘living’. I couldn’t tell very much about her because it was dark, but I had this very strange feeling that I knew her from somewhere.”

“You may have seen her before,” Monica said. “You have returned to assignments before I think. I hear that this sort of thing happens with just about every angel.”

Sam swallowed and looked down at his lap, trying all the while not to blow his cover. “I suppose you’re right,” he managed to say, his voice emerging in what sounded like a squeak. He did not want to admit that he was feeling increasingly disquieted every time Monica or Tess even mentioned the word ‘angel’.

Finally, instead of continuing along those lines, he could feel himself trying to conceal a yawn. “Monica, would you be offended if I asked you to go? I really need to get some sleep, it’s been a long day. Besides, I have a feeling that Tess would want us to be good and rested for whatever may come tomorrow.”

Monica shook her head and got to her feet. “Not at all. Besides, you’re probably right,” she smiled at him. “I hope that our little chat has helped you at least feel a wee bit better. I hate to see my best friend hurting.” She stood up and went over to him and rested her hand on her shoulder. “Everything is going to be alright, Andrew. The Father is always going to be there for you.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” he said as he touched her hand and squeezed it gently. “Thanks, Monica.”

“Good night, Andrew,” she said warmly as she returned the squeeze to his hand before making her way towards the door. “Don’t forget to close the window before you go to bed. Victoria seems rather convinced that the homeless people have used the open windows as a way to sneak into the rooms and steal towels. She went on to say that if any towels go missing that we’ll have to pay for them.”

“Sounds like a really cheerful person,” Sam mused.

Monica nodded and left the room.

Once she was gone, he went over to the cabinet and finding a folded set of pajamas amidst the clothing, he changed quickly and went over to the bed and began to pull the covers aside. As soon as he did, he decided to pull the entire bedding from the bed and gave it a thorough shaking out before tossing it back on the bed.

Retreating to the bathroom, he began to unconsciously stare out the window. No wonder that woman is so paranoid about the homeless. The window opened to reveal a vacant lot with cardboard boxes set up as though a large community of homeless people. In the distance, he could see a small group of about seven or eight men standing around, their voices loud as they conversed with one another. Sadly, he lowered the window and locked it. I don’t know what would be worse, sleeping outside in the desert-like climate, or sleeping in here with mothballs and air fresheners, he thought as he turned on the bedside lamp and then went to switch off the overhead light. Next he returned to the bed and crawled under the covers.

As soon as he was comfortable, he closed his eyes for a moment. This is, by far, the most miserable place I have ever been in, he thought as he exhaled slowly and turned off the lamp. As soon as he did, he leaned back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. After several minutes of watching the shadows dance across it, he tried to focus his energy on going to sleep. The last thing that entered his mind before sleep overtook him were: Please don’t let Al show up here until tomorrow.

Within twenty minutes of tossing and turning, sleep finally overtook him.

New Mexico, 1999

Seconds after his dialogue with Ziggy, Al stormed out into the corridor and came within inches of sideswiping one of the Project Quantum Leap’s assistants. It was a young woman in her early twenties and she was walking with her head lowered and her arms loaded down with books. As he brushed past her, the books began to teeter about and the entire stack eventually fell and hit the ground. Behind them the project psychiatrist, Verbeena Beeks stood, unobserved in the corridor. She said nothing, instead watched and listened.

The girl raised her head with the intention of snapping at the one who had caused this chaos, but seeing that it was Al, she bit down on her tongue and began to clumsily retrieve the books. “Admiral Calavicci, I-I, excuse me,” she began, her voice indicative of the level of her intimidation. In fact, she straightened up and stood as though at attention. All that seemed to be missing in the young woman’s stance was a military salute.

“At ease,” he said calmly. “I don’t bite.” At least not usually, he added silently to himself. He looked down at her immediately recognized her. He knew just about everyone involved with the project and this young girl was no exception. She could not have been all that old, in fact, she looked to be exactly the same age as Teresa would have been in 1999. When she did not relax, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright,” he offered, all the while noticing that instead of being sharply dressed, she was standing there in a simple red colored t-shirt and faded denim blue jeans. Her hair was casually tied back in a ponytail and she wore no makeup.

She’s such a homely looking creature, he thought somehow imagining her dressed in a tighter shirt and perhaps a mini skirt. Instead of speaking of this, he leaned over and began to assist her in collecting the books. As he did, he could see the titles as they caught his eyes. ‘Elementary Psychological Experimentation’, ‘Disorientation’, ‘Sociological Reactions and Methods’.

“What is all this?” He eventually asked as he placed the three books on the floor against the wall. With the toe of his shoe, he shoved the rest of them into a small pile.

“Thesis work, Admiral Calavicci, Sir,” she stammered, “I’m trying to get my second doctorate in Psychology.”

What a waste, he thought, this nonsense was probably being pushed as well as approved by Dr. Beeks. That girl needs a life, not twenty-three hours a day of this nonsense.

His gaze continued to take in the appearance of the young woman. He had never really spoken to her before, but he remembered how she was rumored to be similar to Sam in the ‘brains department’. She was amazingly brilliant, if only she could do something about her appearance, Al thought with a smug look. He took a deep breath and looked down at her and noticed that she was still standing and looking around somewhat awkwardly. “Just leave them for a moment,” he said.

“W-why? Did I do something wrong, Admiral Calavicci?” She asked.

“Look, let’s shelf the formalities, don’t call me ‘Sir’, and don’t call me ‘Admiral’,” he said. “You can call me Al like just about everyone else around here. I think only Ziggy calls me ‘Admiral’ anymore. I suppose a computer with that kind of ego can’t be expected to dispense with these kinds of formalities anyway.”

“I-I wasn’t sure is all,” she said still not sure she wanted to step out on a limb and call him by his given name.

“OK, we’ll take this one step at a time, what’s your name and how long have you been here at the project?” He asked.

“My name is Paula Johnson, and I’ve been here for about a year,” she said. “We never met because…”

“…Because you’re shy and intimidated by this cigar smoking bozo, right?” He chuckled softly. He had not called himself that in a long time, but just as he had hoped, she looked as though she was starting to relax.

Instead of speaking, she slowly nodded. “I guess so.”

He nodded with a trace of approval as his attention diverted back to the books that were shoved up against the wall. “Well, that was good, now, tell me what this is all this about? I haven’t seen this many books lying around since I was working to get my instrument rating close to thirty years ago.”

“Dr. Beeks gave them to me to help with researching my thesis. I’m trying to work with the psychology of disorientation to prove that individuals sometimes do things out of character based on discomfort or uncertainty,” she said honestly.

“Have you had any practical training with this?” He asked.

“No Sir, I mean; no Al, I haven’t,” she stammered. “I am starting to think it’s a stupid idea, though.”

“Why would you think that?” He asked. “It’s a perfectly logical summation. I mean; look at what happens each time Sam leaps. That disorientation stuff might actually explain some of the sporadic reactions that people have when they find themselves here. That sort of thesis could prove to be rather useful around here. Especially with some of the jokers we get in the waiting room.” Aside from that, the bilge sounds boring as hell, he added silently, but waited for her to respond.

“I’ve never come into contact with any of them, so I don’t know. All of my study has been through textbook examples and not through practical theory,” Paula said. “Of course, Dr. Beeks thought from what you informed her of your contact with the man in the waiting room right now, that he would be ideal.”

“Perhaps, but you’re still scared,” he said matter-of-factly.

She nodded. “It may sound crazy but I’m afraid to even ask.”

“Why?” He asked. “Are you afraid I will say ‘no’?”

She backed up, her blue eyes meeting his. “Maybe a little, but it’s not just that. I know that this project is really secret. I just don’t want to do anything that could possibly jeopardize it.”

“Yes, but you’re also here for a reason, not to be kept in the dark about every little thing that comes up,” he said. “You are a brilliant physicist, yet I really cannot wrap my brain around why it is you are spending so much time on this Psychology stuff. I suppose that’s your business though.”

“I think it’s interesting, Admiral…” her voice trailed and she swallowed. “…I mean; Al. I’ve been doing this sort of research since Dr. Beckett leaped for the very first time. I just kept thinking that perhaps I could be ready to meet one of these people and get some sort of verification from them, but I’m not sure anymore.”

“Paula, I will permit you to go into the waiting room for a short time, but only if you leave your notes outside. Nobody wants to feel like lab rat while they are here,” he said.

“I guess not,” she said simply.

Al looked into the sincere eyes of the woman. “Just promise me one other thing, if that guy tries to hurt you, you call me in, pronto, OK?”

“I’ll be careful and if he says anything pertinent to Dr. Beckett’s leap, then I will notify you at once,” she said.

“Alright,” Al eventually conceded and watched as Paula slowly walked back down the hall. As she reached the door to the waiting room, she glanced back towards him, all the while running her hands down over her clothing before slowly opening the door and entering the room.

For his part, All took a deep breath and made his way back in the direction of the control room. For some reason, he felt compelled to return there and ask Ziggy about this particular instance. Something felt strange to him; something that could have connected Paula Johnson to this entire situation.

Opening the door, he entered the control room. “Ziggy, what cha got on Paula Johnson?” He asked. No one else was in the room and he figured that he could satisfy his own curiosity by doing a little digging.

“Paula Johnson is a Project Assistant,” the computer regurgitated.

“I know that, you overblown tin can, but something about her doesn’t add up. I want to know why it is this kid is working for a second PhD instead of getting into the dating scene or having a social life like every other young person around here.” As he spoke, he could not help but think that there was more to her being a brainy kid than what he already knew about her. He pulled a cigar from his breast pocket and began to unwrap it. “Let’s start with something more obvious, like where she’s from.”

“Paula Johnson was born and raised in Albuquerque, New Mexico,” Ziggy said. “She is the youngest of five brothers and sisters, she’s 23-years-old and carries a doctorate in physics.”

“Is there anything in your databanks about why it is a young woman like her would be so interested in psychology after getting a PhD in Physics?” Al asked as he dug in his pocket for a lighter. The next words he heard made him stop this action dead in his tracks and turn around.

“Maybe her thirst for knowledge has more to do with what happened to her cousin,” a different voice emerged. He sighed when he realized that the voice matched Dr. Beeks. She was standing in the doorway, her dark eyes regarding Al. “I probably should have told you about this before you ran into Paula in the hallway. Although she has been a student of psychology for the last few years, it all started when her cousin committed suicide. She’s been trying for a number of years to understand what has happened, and she has been in my care for some of that time. When she joined Project Quantum Leap, it was because of her brilliance with facts and figures, not my having known about her past.”

“Perhaps you should have told me that she had been seeing you on a professional level when she came into the project,” Al said. “Why is it that I am suddenly getting inundated with stories of suicide? It’s enough to give a guy the willies!”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Well, that fellow in the waiting room was just affected by it, and now Paula is,” he said. “I had this strange feeling that the two of them might actually relate to one another. If it keeps me out of contact with Andrew, I’ll be happy,” he said smiling smugly. “Of course, that was before I had even heard about her cousin. It’s almost as though some cosmic power has been guiding me with all of this.”

“You mean God,” She asked.

“Hell, I don’t know,” He shook his head. “After having a life like mine, I’ve always had a hard time believing that there’s some sort of God out there.”

The psychologist looked at him. “Is it possible that part of what we are facing is not so much about what Dr. Beckett is dealing with, but maybe the man he leaped into is supposed to meet Paula for some reason?”

“I don’t believe in that kind of fate,” Al said. “Besides, that sounds ju