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Chapter Text

"Hey. Farthest time and place. Remember?" 

"This is pretty far, Al." 

"Since when has that stopped us?" 

Strange, but Sam almost believed him. Even then, he could feel himself changing, his body drifting apart atom by atom, as the darkness closed in. The result of once again foolishly stepping into his experiment untested, a literal leap of faith to save his best friend. No, he couldn't call it foolish then. It was a mystery how the leap into 1876 would have gone if he hadn't been able to find Al, but if there was even a small chance that he'd saved his life then it would have been worth it. But his heart ached with the unknown. The Project might not be able to find Al once Sam was gone. They would be shut down and Al would be alone again. Possibly, Sam's sacrifice only delayed the inevitable. But to think like that only led to madness, and there was little time left to think at all. 

Dying now, but he wouldn't have lived if he hadn't tried. The guilt would have hollowed him out. Al's call pulled him back, he felt his destiny drawing him forward. Leaping was his life now. That meant something, didn't it? That he left so courageously without knowing what was on the other side? But...if he had been so brave, why was he so petrified now? 

He'd been home, yet he was so eager to leap back into the world that had tried to tear him apart. Fear ate at him either way, so he forced himself not to listen to its call. Had he been reckless, unable to think of anything better because he was...faulty now? Was that why he'd heard voices and seen shadows? Or was it the other side tearing through the fabric of the universe to snatch him away? There was a time he didn't believe in spirits, or the devil. But now they lurked in the corners of his imagination. 

Even still, he hadn't been ready to give in to that. He was, after all, a chronic optimist. He'd held onto some small hope this leap, as he gradually slipped further and further away, that the Project would arrive in the nick of time or he would be suddenly struck by some brilliant solution. But neither of those things made themselves known. And no matter how much he willed it, he wasn't strong enough to stay here. The cracks grew and split. 

Now was his last moments, and his genius brain could think of nothing to say. 

Al was holding back, focused as always on propping Sam up. The abyss closed in and only left him in Sam's sight, a stark contrast, the guardian angel. Despite his terror, Sam had to return Al's kindness. With every ounce of courage he had, he forced himself to give a brave smile. "Love ya, Al." 

Al's mouth lifted up crookedly. Stalwart, tired. "See ya soon, Sam." 

And Al, too, disappeared. Silence--and then the world shattered into a million pieces. 

Seven years had passed and he somehow found himself back at the beginning, a scientist who prematurely stepped into his Quantum Leap Accelerator...and vanished. 

-------

Nothing but light and sound and motion. The voices surrounded Sam, infinite, all saying versions of his name and none of them making sense. Sam wondered how he even had thought at this moment if he no longer existed, but who was he to say what lay beyond the world he knew? Was he going to Heaven or Hell? Or some other place unknown to the living? It didn't feel like either of those things. 

It didn't feel like leaping. It wasn't peaceful like the Place between leaps, the Place he only remembered when he was There but where he was at peace. A Place to heal. Here was cold and strange and a static was in the air. Hands pulled at him from every direction, and he abruptly dropped. He closed his eyes, terrified, wondering when this nightmare was going to end. He screamed, his voice silent but becoming raw.

And then it was suddenly quiet. 

He didn't feel dead. But he didn't know what dead felt like. But he wasn't in pieces either. And he wasn't falling anymore. He was...somewhere. Solid. 

Something was constricting his arms. Confused, he opened his eyes to find himself in a straitjacket. 

Gasping, he straightened up and looked wildly around. He was in a padded white room. Horror gripped him like more hands, threatening to pull him into the ground itself as old memories returned unbidden. No, this was almost worse than being ripped apart. Being nothing. He didn't want to exist, to feel, if it was here.

Havenwell. The Other Project. Red. Unending pain. Too many places and too much agony. 

An uncontrollable whimper escaped him as he tried and failed to make sense of anything, scrambling to his feet. 

"No...no!" Near hysterics, he twisted and turned in search of a way out. "Not again! Please!" 

Why was he here?! Bad things happened in places like this. If he was dead, he was in Hell. Please, just let him out! 

The door opened and he nearly had a heart attack. But when he saw who was coming in, a wave of relief washed over him and his legs threaten to buckle. The one thing that ever made sense to him. 

"Al!" 

He didn't know how it was possible, but he was alive and Al was here, wearing a doctor's jacket and holding a clipboard. They'd leaped after all! Maybe...maybe the leap had caused Sam to come back together somehow? Or the Project had done something on their end? Sam didn't know and frankly didn't care. He was alive! They were alive! The shock of it all sent sweat down his body and made his hair stick to his forehead. He couldn't sort his thoughts properly right now. But Al would know what to do. He always knew.

"Al, thank god you're here," Sam panted, only thinking of how quickly he'd be out of this jacket, "We leaped!" 

"Mm-hm." Al lifted the clipboard with interest, writing something down. "And where have we leaped today, Sam?" 

Sam froze. Al was acting...different. If he was making a joke, it wasn't very funny. 

That's when he saw his name tag: Dr. Calavicci. 

Oh, god.

The sweat felt cold. Sam could only stare stupidly. If they'd leaped, why would that name tag have Al's real name? It had to be a coincidence. It wasn't as if Al was the only person with the surname Calavicci. At last, Sam asked softly, "What?" 

"I asked where we leaped today." 

Sam's eyes whipped up to face Al again. He was waiting patiently, pen at the ready. "That's not funny, Al." 

"Who's joking?" 

Sam blinked the sweat from his eyes. It was difficult to think like this. The garment around him seemed to hug him tighter and tighter, making it difficult to breathe. First take this off, then figure out what Al was talking about. When his heart wasn't beating out of his chest. He swallowed, "Listen, um...do you think you could get me outta this thing?" He tugged at his restraints uneasily.

For the first time, Al seemed to react. Standing straighter and pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket, he put them on and squinted closely at the man before him. Unsure, "Sam...do you know where you are right now?" 

Why was Al asking all of these strange questions? Confused, Sam answered, "It's...a hospital, I think."

Stunned for a moment, Al ran his hand over his mouth and leaned back with astonishment. Sam was staring back anxiously. At last, he pulled himself together and nodded, heading back out. His brief exit sent Sam into another small panic, but shortly after he'd returned with an orderly who approached to remove the straitjacket. 

Simply having the jacket removed lifted an immense weight from Sam's shoulders. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe. To feel the perspiration cooling his body. He was present. Precisely where, he still wasn't sure. Al was thanking the orderly. When Sam looked again, he saw Al scrutinizing him closely. Why was he looking at him like that? 

"Better?" 

Sam nodded, rubbing his arms. He could still feel the jacket on him. "Al...where are we exactly?" 

"We're in Silver Oak Clinic," Al answered plainly. Then, with a small grin, "Uh, New Mexico. Do you remember how you got here?" 

Sam frowned. Had he swiss cheesed something? The last thing he remembered was falling apart, but Al seemed to know exactly what was happening. Then again, this wasn't the first time he'd arrived on a leap with more holes in his brain than usual. Perhaps he was mind-merging with whoever he'd leaped into. This wasn't the first time that had happened either. "No...who did we leap into?" 

This was a question with a long answer. Al indicated a couple of chairs he'd brought in. "Uh, sit. Please." Slowly, uncertainly, Sam made his way over to the chair and sat down. This must be serious. Usually Al would be making some sort of crack to break the tension by now, but he remained straight-faced. Seating himself across from him, he scratched his temple thoughtfully. He was acting strange, but one thing he did that was consistent was decide to beat around the bush. "I'm sorry about the restraints. You had an episode last night and we didn't want you to hurt yourself." 

An episode? Why couldn't Sam remember? Was this like what happened after he was...at that other place? He'd woken up in a hospital then too, unaware of what had happened since his injuries. He hadn't even known they'd leaped. Was he hurt again? And Al had leaped into a doctor? He didn't feel any pain. Physically. "Al, please just tell me what the hell is going on."

Again, Al peered at him through his glasses. As Sam contemplated scenarios that might make sense, Al didn't quite fit with any of them. He was odd, but he wasn't not Al, per se. He was even, professional. He had a warmth about him, but it wasn't the same closeness Sam was used to. Not the friend he knew. Either Al had changed...or Sam had. 

Neither thought sat well with him.

Nothing could have prepared Sam for what Al said next. Folding his hands in his lap, he informed him gently but firmly, "Sam...I'm your doctor, and you're my patient. You've been here for seven years." 

He must have misheard. 

A beat. Sam scoffed. "What're you talking about?" 

"I know this is hard to accept," Al continued, "But it's the truth. I'm not a hologram, or a leaper, nor can either of us travel in time. This is the first time in four years that you've realized you're in a hospital, and its the only time since you came to us that you've ever been fully cognizant of reality. Quite frankly, I'm stunned." 

The opposite of what Al was claiming seemed to be true, because to Sam reality was slipping away with alarming speed. There were words being spoken but it was some sort of coded message, some alien language he didn't understand. No, not reality at all. Old memories and fears tried to fight their way to the surface, making his thoughts murky. He shook his head, frantically trying to decipher what was happening. "Stop it, Al. Whatever the hell you're pulling, just stop it." 

"This is a good thing, Sam," Al said earnestly, allowing himself a small smile, "We're on the verge of a major breakthrough. I hope you know that." 

"I said stop it!" Sam shouted angrily, jumping to his feet, "Why are you doing this?!" 

What was the point? Why would Al tell him such a thing when he knew what he'd been through? What happened the last time he was in an institution? How he'd been so frightened for his sanity last leap? Sam's breath became shallow. The walls were closing in. This room was so small. Sam was stiff, like prey ready to dart away at any moment. 

Al stood also, keeping his even facade. It was the air of a seasoned professional, someone used to speaking to people with delusions. But Sam wasn't delusional. "I'm not doing this to you, Sam. This is reality." 

God. Did Al actually believe this? 

"This is reality?" Sam repeated disbelievingly, "That--That the past seven years never happened? That I just made it all up in my head, is that what you're telling me?" It was so ludicrous saying it out loud. But Al wasn't laughing. Why wasn't he laughing?

The more panicked Sam became, the more infuriatingly calm Al was. Why wouldn't he just tell him what was actually happening?! But the longer this went on, the more nauseous Sam became. Al seemed so sincere. Nothing was adding up, and that didn't bode well for someone supposedly sane.  

Unshaken, Al replied, "What I'm telling you is, you're sick."

"No." 

"Your family brought you here to get better." 

"No!"

"Yes!" 

The force of Al's shout caused Sam to jump. Old fears pushed him back, caused him to flinch. A Devil with Al's face, and fists beating into him, choking him. An electrical shock. Sam closed his eyes. That was over. 

But Al wasn't trying to scare him. Taking a different tack, he softened his expression and took a step back. To tell Sam he was safe, but Sam wasn't entirely sure of anything right now. Then he calmly explained, "The brain needs to be treated sometimes, just like any other body part. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Remember, Sam? From our sessions?" 

A loud sigh. "What sessions?" 

"You've been having trouble coping after your near death experience. It's called post-traumatic stress disorder." 

After he was tortured, mangled. Glass and hammers and needles. Sam had worked hard to forget them. No, don't remember them now.

However, his sessions had been with Verbena, not Al, because of course Al wasn't a doctor. And he hadn't gone to a hospital. You can't go to a hospital with time travel based trauma. But he hadn't needed to. Maybe...maybe thought about it, once or twice. Verbena would always answer his calls, even when it was late. There were some nights...he worried maybe he was...but he was okay.

Right? 

"But--but I got better. I--I don't need to be here." He looked up and nodded, as if trying to convince himself. "I'm better now." 

Stop looking at him like that, Al. "It's okay to accept help, Sam. That's why we're here."

"But I got better and--and I leaped after you!" 

"No. You got into an altercation with another patient; they had a weapon. You were briefly transferred to another facility while you recovered." 

"Damn it, Al, stop acting like leaping isn't real!" Sam was about ready to slap him. Enough was enough!

Silence, except for Sam's breathing. Always his breathing. He waited for the tension to break, for Al to crack a smile, play his gotcha card. Wink and tell him why they were really here. Please. 

Al took off his glasses and met his eyes, staring for a moment. "I think you know me pretty well by now. Would I make this up?" 

Now Sam was stunned silent. 

No, Al would never do this to him. It was too cruel. But what he was saying couldn't be true. Sam knew what was real and what wasn't. He didn't just make up that he'd traveled in time, done all of the things he had. It didn't make sense...but then again, neither did this. Both of these realities couldn't co-exist. So either Sam was mad and had been for a long time, or...or he'd only recently begun to have delusions of a hospital with Al. Whatever way he sliced it, he was in a lot of trouble. 

Unless...unless something far worse had happened. That was the last thing he remembered, wasn't it? His final moments as his atoms tore apart? Who was to say he was anywhere? This wasn't a leap at all. It was his worst nightmares, come to reality. That wasn't Al. This wasn't a hospital. It was the end. 

Breathing raggedly, Sam pulled his hands over his eyes and slowly sank back into his chair. Shaken, he peered over his fingers at Al--or whatever he was--somehow daring to ask the question he dreaded. "I'm dead...aren't I? I didn't make it through that last leap." 

Somewhere beyond living, another world. A test or a punishment. 

Al was still, mouth thin. Disappointed. Sam saw horns. "You aren't dead." 

This wasn't his life. He refused to accept it. So it had to be death. 

He thought death would be more peaceful. Quiet. Not loud like this. 

"That--That's the only thing that makes sense," Sam reasoned with himself. It was that or his life was a lie. That everything he'd been through had been to no end, for nothing. No wrongs put right. "I-I-I destabilized--my atoms--and now, I...I'm here. None of this is real." 

No. He didn't want to be dead. To be trapped in that void forever. With all of Them.

That's what he'd told Al. That he was dead. The voices calling his name were trying to drag him into the endless abyss, into the unknown, waiting for the moment they had him. And now he was trapped. God, he wasn't ready. He just wanted to run. 

In the back of his mind, he'd known his survival was temporary. That it would all catch up to him. He wasn't strong enough. What a fool he'd been to think he'd overcome it. Both hands clasped either side of his head, trying to still himself. 

Slowly, Al circled around his chair and lowered himself back down. With a penetrating stare, he asked, "Sam, do you really believe that? That you're dead, and this is some sort of purgatory?" 

...did he? It all was so very strange. Sam took another look at the padded walls, pushing away the thoughts of blood and screaming. Electricity. Finally landed on the familiar face, more distant than he remembered. But not cold. Reaching for Sam, but not like whatever he'd imagined was coming for him. A supportive embrace. Sam couldn't begin to interpret what was occurring here, but he couldn't ignore what his heart was telling him while his head was failing. Swallowing, he took in his surroundings and hesitantly raised his head. Truthfully, "...no." 

"Then you accept that right here, right now--this is real? This is happening?" 

A pause. "Yes." 

Somehow. 

A nod. "Good. It's a start." There was that grin again. Al couldn't hide his excitement. "Welcome back, Sam."  

He was alive. He hoped. It was the best of his terrible options. 

Whatever was happening, Sam was here. Wherever here was. Al certainly believed what he was was telling him. But if Sam wasn't dead, then something had gone extremely ca-ca. He had to hang onto that, or believe that what he'd feared for so long had come true. That...his mind wasn't quite whole. And he couldn't live that way. Not yet. Not when he still had hope. 

The only choice now was to treat this like a leap: find out more and determine what needed to be fixed to put things right. He'd get out of here. How, he didn't know yet.  

Sam licked his lips, slowly uncurling his body. "Can I...can I get out of this room, please?" 

-------

Silver Oak was different from Havenwell, although Sam didn't feel much more at ease. But even he had to admit that 2003 was miles away from a facility in the 50s. The halls were bright, clean. Open doors revealed personalized rooms with books and plants and other lively touches. At least in appearance, it didn't seem to be a place where people were thrown away, hidden from society, given unnecessary treatments. Treatments that caused someone to lose their entire self, weave in and out of various people, nearly disappear. 

Sam blinked. That was then. This was now. 

Al led him into a large rec room, where various patients played games or watched TV. "This isn't so scary, is it?" 

That was easy for him to say. No one thought he was crazy. Just agree for now. Sam nodded. 

"We run a nice place here. Honest."

Al was smiling again. Sam wasn't sure he trusted it. Sure, he looked like Al, but he'd been fooled before...and if he was Al, he wasn't the Al Sam knew. Regardless, he needed him gone. Maybe someone around here could give him some clues as to what was really happening.

Could help him prove he was alive, and sane. 

"Yeah. It looks nice," Sam lied, pretending to be more at ease, "Do you think I could...stay in here awhile?" 

A surprised Al raised his eyebrows, looked him over. "Are you sure you're ready for that, Sam?" he asked gently, "You don't have to jump in right away, you know. It's a big step." 

Sam nodded again. "I know. I...I want to meet everyone." His anxiousness was genuine, but he needed to know more. And he was, in fact, telling the truth. The best lies were always partially truthful.

Still skeptical, Al nonetheless agreed to his request. "Sure. It might, uh, help you to socialize some. I think speaking to other people will help ground you." A pause. "Do you want me to stay?" 

Sam finally looked away from the patients and faced Al. Whoever he was, he seemed to care about how Sam felt. That meant something. That is, if Sam could trust what he was seeing. "Uh, no. I'll be fine alone." 

"Okay, Sam." With an encouraging smile, Al squeezed his shoulder. "I'll be back to check on you later." He probably had a lot to go over with his colleagues, Sam thought. To pick some brains concerning his miraculous case. Sam watched him go and wondered how much was true concern for him and how much was a professional courtesy. Or...part of some deeper deception. 

Was that really Al? Was Sam really...Sam?

A show he didn't recognize was playing on the large TV on the wall. That wasn't unusual though. He'd missed out on seven years of pop culture and when he'd leaped back, he hadn't been particularly interested in watching television. The camera shook as it followed someone down the street. A reality show. The genre had received a boom in popularity while Sam was gone which he didn't understand. He bet Al loved it though. He'd have to ask him about it when he...

Sam's small grin faded away. Al. Right. 

"Psst. Dr. Beckett!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Dr. Beckett. Here? He craned his head back at the familiar voice. As soon as he laid eyes on the person who said it, he was suddenly filled with hope. And he needed a bit of hope right now. 

There was Gooshie and Tina, seated at a table and waving him over.

The Project had found him. Finally, something that made sense! They could have timed things better, but just being here was an enormous relief. The how or the why didn't matter yet. The adrenaline kicked in and Sam tried not to rush over too fast, suddenly feeling giddy. They were going to get him out! Damn, they were a wonderful sight! 

He reached the table and sighed happily. "Gooshie...Tina...God, I thought I'd never see you two again." 

"Shh, keep it down," Tina whispered, finger to her lips. Her eyes darted back and forth nervously. "You don't want them to hear, do you?" She waved him even closer. 

He knew it. Something was off around here. Puzzled and anxious, Sam stooped down into their huddle over a game of cards. "I don't want who to hear?" 

"You know, them," Tina said obviously, jerking her head toward the front desk where a nurse waited. Sam frowned. So there was something sinister happening. 

The evil leapers? Had they come back? Was this some plan of theirs? His senses were on full alert. The enemy was all around, and they were exposed. "Who are they? What's happening?"

"It's the leap," Gooshie said urgently, "Something's gone wrong with the leap."

That's why he was here, why Al was acting so strangely. Something had been changed. Sam couldn't imagine what kind of mess they were in now, but things seemed dire. His breathing became faster, leaning in further with worry. "What is it?" 

"Well, according to Ziggy, you need to--" 

"That's enough." 

The voice behind Sam startled him and he spun around. Had they been caught?! He wasn't sure he was prepared for a fight. His eyes searched for a weapon and came up empty. 

But a fight wasn't coming. There was Verbena in a pair of scrubs, fist on her hip. "How many times have I told you two not to play games with Sam?" 

The sound of giggling caused Sam's heart to sink even further than he thought possible. He felt sick as the realization sunk in. How easy it was to lure him in, stir up his imagination and fill it with ghosts. 

Gooshie and Tina were having a grand old time, snickering at each other over their shared joke. They'd played their parts so well. To think, for a moment Sam believed help had arrived. 

"You were joking with me."  

Rescue wasn't here after all. 

In contrast to Sam's quiet disappointment, the other two only began to laugh harder. "Get ready to leap, Dr. Beckett!" Gooshie snorted, "You cracked the case!" 

"Shut it, Irving," Verbena said sternly, finger pointed, "You know it only encourages him. You want to lose your TV privileges?" 

Gooshie rolled his eyes, suddenly concentrated on his game. "No, ma'am. I'll be quiet."

"Tina?" 

"Won't hear a word from me," Tina answered, placing a card down.

"Good. Take these." Grabbing a couple of paper cups off of the cart next to her, Verbena handed them two each: one with water, the other with their medications, which they dutifully swallowed down. She grabbed another two and handed them to Sam wordlessly, reverting to work mode as she began to organize what she'd brought. 

Sam simply stared. What was wrong with everyone? He wasn't crazy. He was the only sane person here. 

Noticing Sam wasn't doing anything, Verbena stopped organizing. "Take your meds, Sam." 

Lifting the cup, Sam could see pills of various shapes and sizes. Some he recognized, others he didn't. Obviously meant for someone with a whole host of issues Sam was sure he didn't have. Realizing Verbena was still watching, he had to think quickly. He threw the pills back into his mouth and slowly lifted the water. Satisfied he was taking them, she went back to her cart. While she was distracted, he quickly spit them back into his hand and shoved them into his pocket before making a show of finishing the water. 

"That's a good boy..." Verbena mumbled, collecting the trash and preparing to leave. 

"Um...Verbena?" Sam asked, trying to get her attention. She looked back with surprise. "Can we talk?" 

Whether Verbena was Verbena or not, Sam trusted her. She'd stood up for him just now and that meant she was obviously looking out for him here, but in truth, his trust had little to do with that. Just the sound of her voice calmed him. He'd gotten used to hearing it a lot recently, strange since he hadn't remembered her for so many years. Now he couldn't imagine not knowing her. If he was lost, she was ready to listen and never afraid to be honest. And right now, what he needed was honesty.

Once she got over the initial surprise, Verbena pursed her lips sympathetically. "I'm not a psychiatrist, Sam...but I am here to listen if you need it." 

"I know," Sam said, though he was still off-put by this statement. He looked at her scrubs, taking a not-so-wild guess. "You're a...a nurse." 

This, however, threw Verbena for a loop. She froze for a moment, mouth open slightly. Evidently, Sam didn't make it a habit to acknowledge her true profession. "Sam...do you know who I am?" 

Sam didn't know that he did at the moment, but for all intents and purposes, he recognized the uniform. And if she was a nurse, she could tell him more of his new backstory. "Yeah." He chuckled nervously. This may not yield him any useful information. "I actually was going to ask you the same thing." 

Verbena exhaled a long breath, eyes wide. She set her cart aside, stepping closer. Sam wished people would stop looking at him like that. "Sam...I've known you for too long. It's about time you came back to the world." 

She was part of this act, whoever it was being put on for. And if Sam learned the whole story, he might be able to piece together how it happened. "Well, I can't say I'm feeling like myself..." he admitted, rubbing his hands together nervously, "But I don't really remember myself...before I came here. I mean...who was I? What was I like?" 

Verbena considered the question, unsure how to answer or how much she should discuss. After all, she wasn't his doctor. But in the end, she was too fascinated not to bite. "Well...you were very famous, you know. Some people called you the next Einstein." She thought back. She'd learned a lot of this after he'd arrived. "Quantum physics, if I remember right. You were brilliant."

"And then...I wasn't?" 

Is that who he was? A genius who had snapped? A mad scientist obsessed with a time machine? 

"Oh no, Sam, you are," Verbena answered supportively, "I can't say we've ever had anyone here as smart as you. You just think different, that's all."  

Sam focused on the floor in concentration. It sounded as if everything in his life prior to leaping was basically the same as he remembered...minus some key figures. Somewhere along the line, something in history had changed. Except him, apparently. But if history had changed, his memories would have too. And what could have shifted things so drastically, and how did all of these important people in his life end up in here with him? The odds of so many different branches still leading to Sam were infinitesimal. Leaps didn't veer this wildly from the original history. If it was a leap. 

If it was, Verbena might be able to help him. So far, she was the one who talked down to him the least. She might be convinced if he presented enough compelling evidence, and she'd demonstrated that she was willing to go to bat for him.

Sam looked back up at his once-friend. "I don't belong here, Verbena." He closed in, trying to be discreet. Pointing to his chest, his mouth crooked up. "I'm not crazy." 

A pause. "Of course you aren't."

Sam's breath left him. He'd needed to hear those words so badly. He knew Verbena would be there for him. "You believe me?" 

Verbena smiled with encouragement. "We don't use the word crazy around here." 

There was that sickening feeling again. Someone had to believe him. To confirm that his life was real. To give him some way of escape. "Verbena, please..." 

Sammysammysammysammy...

No. 

The voice made every muscle in Sam's body cement, filled him with absolute paralyzing fear. He thought it had gone. He'd heard that voice before. When he thought he was...

"Sam." Sam jumped a little. Verbena was speaking to him gently, supportively. "I know this might seem frightening to you, but believe me...what's happening is a good thing. It means what Dr. Calavicci's prescribed is working." She met his eyes with conviction. "It's so good to finally meet you." 

"Did you...?" 

"Did I what?" 

Immediately, Sam told himself to shut the hell up. Don't be stupid. The voice was gone now anyway. "Um...nothing. Sorry, you have work." 

Reluctantly, Verbena returned to her cart. "Yeah...don't make me a stranger, Sam."  

Although Sam appreciated the sentiment, he could only muster a distracted nod. Whatever he'd been hearing all last leap, it had followed him here. Didn't they already have him? Perhaps he'd escaped them again, when time changed. But terrifyingly, they sounded closer now. Almost as if whatever it was, it could reach out and--

"Sammy boy!" 

A hand grasped Sam's shoulder and spun him around, causing him to scream. Suddenly, he was outside and face to face with a grinning Al. 

"Good to see ya!" His friend slapped his shoulder and laughed jovially, holding up a six pack. "Where's the cooler?" 

Sam was frozen once again, but whether it was from the fear or confusion he couldn't say. Suddenly everything was completely, jarringly different. Not just upside down, but twisted in several different directions like Play-Doh. 

Somehow, the world was more deeply saturated than he remembered, but maybe that was because he was no longer in the sterile environment of a hospital. They were in a backyard, the grass freshly mowed. A tall wooden fence circled around to a perfect house. Sam frowned. Something was in his hand. A spatula. He looked down and saw a grill. Gone, too, were his hospital clothes, replaced with jeans and a Kiss the Cook apron. 

What in the hell was happening?! 

Chapter Text

"Buddy?" 

Sam lifted his head and gawked. "Where are we?" 

A pause. Finally, Al let out a big belly laugh. "Getting started a little early, huh?" he asked, lightly jiggling the beer in the air. He slapped Sam's shoulder. "You're a riot, Sammy. I think I can find it myself." 

While Sam watched his friend sidle past him and toward a red cooler on the patio, he didn't notice a dog that came barreling toward him. A Jack Russell jumped up and barked, eager to get his attention. Sam dropped the spatula, too stunned by the situation to keep his grip. 

"Down, Chester! Down boy!" 

Sam knew that voice. He...he knew that dog. But why would they be here? 

A woman with red hair and a meticulously selected outfit approached and smiled, pulling Chester gently away. She pointed a finger and scolded him, speaking to him like a baby. "How many times have I told you not to jump up, you silly widdle puppy?" 

"...Sharon?" 

Al's fourth wife. She'd famously taken Chester in the split, the biggest sore spot for Al concerning the dissolution of their marriage. As for Sharon herself, well, even Al wasn't sure why they'd gotten together in the first place. She was uptight, motherly, and frankly, pretty far from his type. Actually, Sam knew why they were married. Even in a sweater, her chest size was...ample. 

She looked up at the sound of her name. "Yes?" 

"Honey, where's my lucky hat?" Al interrupted, rubbing the top of his head. 

"You left it in the house."

He sighed. "Of course. I'll be right back."

"No, I'll get it," Sharon said quickly, "I was going to grab the sunscreen anyway. We want to make sure we're protected from Mr. Sun while we're out here!" She and Al exchanged a sickeningly sweet look before she rounded the fence and went next door. 

Al was shaking his head as he watched her go, lost in marital bliss. "She's the best, isn't she? Without her, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached." He cracked open a beer. 

"You used to hate that."

An unexpected amount of foam came out of the top of the beer, which Al quickly slurped up. "Hm?" 

"When she babied you," Sam answered, brows furrowed, "You said she acted like your mother."

"When did I say that?" 

A pause. Obviously Al hadn't said that this time, had he? But they'd never lived next door to each other, wherever this was. Had something changed again? "I...I don't know."

"Are you feeling okay, Sam?" 

Something else had happened. But what? Another change in the timeline? Although Sam was far from okay, simply getting out of that hospital made him feel a little more at ease. And being here meant that...that he wasn't crazy after all.

Not that he'd thought for one second it was true. Still.

But how much had changed this time? It seemed less drastic than before, but it still felt strange for a leap. Sam had to know what Al knew. And...who Al was this time. Not a doctor, apparently. He seemed much closer to the Al he knew, although a lot more domestic than he remembered. He'd take that over a white coat. 

Putting on a confident front, Sam shrugged casually. "Yeah, I'm fine." He chuckled. "I'm just scatterbrained today." Finding that answer acceptable, Al returned his attention to his drink. Sam picked up the spatula, trying to figure out how to carry this conversation. "Al, um...how long have we known each other now?" 

Al scratched the side of his face, waxing nostalgic. "God, nearly twenty years now, isn't it? Time sure flies." 

Sam expelled a small breath of relief. Not seven. Not like...that other place. "Yeah...yeah, it sure does." He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Seems like yesterday we were meeting at Project Starbright." 

"At what?" 

Sam's spirits sunk a little. No Starbright...no Project Quantum Leap. But how was that possible if the timeline had been changed, however wildly? "Uh...I mean, um...when we seemed brighter...you know, because we were younger." 

Al quirked an eyebrow. "That's a weird way of wording it."

"Yeah..." Sam frowned at his spatula. What now? He felt less like a genius every moment. 

"Sammy, are you sure you're alright?"

Sam lifted his head. He didn't want to risk sounding like he was...well, he wasn't. "Sure. Don't I...seem okay?" 

But Al squinted one eye at him, suddenly suspicious. Sam tensed up, worried he'd been found out. "I know what's goin' on here..."

"You...you do?" 

"You're trying to get out of that double date, aren't you?" Al asked with a point, closing in. Sam sighed with relief. "Listen, you don't have anything to worry about. Sharon swears up and down that her girlfriend is a knockout." He waved his hand for emphasis, landing on his shoulder and squeezing hard. "She’ll adore you, trust me. Every woman does.” 

Whatever was going on, Sam would rather play along with this than the last place he'd been. "Oh, sure...the double date," he answered with a fake smile, "You caught me." 

"You're going to have a great time, Dad." 

Sam's previous uneasiness returned, but this time it was a strange mix of puzzlement and heartache. Before she'd entered his line of sight, Sam knew who she was, yet didn't believe it until he saw her. A younger Sammy Jo approached, no older than a teenager, giving Sam a light kiss on the cheek.

"It's been three years since the divorce," she said encouragingly, "I think it's time to start dating again. But if you're really nervous, I can go with you." 

Sam could only stare in awe, any semblance of acting vanished.

Dad. She'd called him Dad. And she was here, with him, a child again...somehow. In the years he'd missed. Sam didn't have the words, but the glistening in his eyes gave him away. When he was allowed to remember, he'd wonder what it would've been like to raise her. To see her first steps, to teach her about life. But she only existed because he couldn't stay in one place. He never had the chance. 

"Dad?" 

"Sammy Jo..." Both Sammy Jo and Al were staring now, but Sam didn't care. He pulled his daughter into a tight embrace. She was so small. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing...just--just be with me..." Tears fell down his face. He sunk into the moment and committed it to memory. Don't forget this time. Please don't forget. 

Sam? 

A sudden jolt and Sam gasped. Sammy Jo was gone. Where was she?! She'd disappeared like another hole in his memory, but he couldn't let her go this time. He whipped around, only to find himself in a white room. Al was seated nearby, peering over his glasses at his notes. 

No, this was over now. Why would he be back here?

The hospital. But that couldn't be. Time had changed, or...or something. Damn it, he'd gotten out! He had to go back to that other time, where Sammy Jo was. Where he was safer. Where he was sane. 

Sam's breathing intensified as he took stock of his surroundings, searching for any sign of his daughter. She couldn't be gone. "Where...where is she...?" 

"Sammy Jo? This is your, uh...daughter, right?" 

Sam faced the doctor Al again, his fear giving way to anger. Somehow he was responsible; he knew more than he was telling. "What did you do? Why am I here again?" 

At this, Al's face brightened and he looked up. His lab rat was back. "You with me, Sam?" 

Shaking his head, Sam paced the room in irritation. Whoever this was, they were insisting on carrying out this charade. "This can't be happening..." 

"We lost you for awhile. We weren't sure if you were gonna come back this time." 

"No!" Sam shouted emphatically, "No, I was...I was really there." He couldn't convince him he hadn't seen her, held her close. If what he was saying was true, she didn't even exist. But he could still smell the grass. 

"It seems real, I know," Al said gently, setting down his notes, "That's how it works. Today you were with Sammy Jo. Yesterday it was a fireman in the 50s. But you've been here this whole time." 

Sam shook his head, desperately confused. "No, I was...I was at a barbecue, and Sammy Jo was there, and you were...you were setting up a double date..." 

"On a leap?" 

Now Sam stopped his pacing, furrowing his brows. "No...not a leap..." 

That didn't make sense, did it? If what Al was saying was true, Sam's delusions involved leaping. But he'd been in another timeline, except...that didn't add up either. Even if history had been changed, how would that explain Sammy Jo's age? And if he hadn't leaped in that timeline, it was impossible for her to be there at all. 

Unless...unless he really had been here the whole time. Could...could his mind really do that? Fool himself into thinking he was somewhere else? In another life? 

"It changed?" 

Sam was knocked out of his thoughts, lifting his head to look at Al. "What?" 

"Your delusions. It wasn't a leap this time?" 

A pause. "No..."

It had felt so real, yet here he was again. But both realities couldn't exist side by side, and none of it added up with the rules he knew to be true. Time travel didn't work that way. He couldn't trust that what he'd seen had been real, nor could he trust that this hospital was either. 

But then that meant he was insane. 

He was terrified. The room was spinning, threatening to close in on him. He didn't even know what had caused him to finally snap. Had the years of leaping caught up to him and scrambled his mind--had he trapped himself after he was tortured? Or was he really just a troubled man who had never even left his time? 

He couldn't go that far. He had to hang onto something. 

"Sam, I need you to breathe. You're having a panic attack." Al reached out to him but Sam backed away. He didn't want to be touched. 

"I need to get out of here..." Sam said with a forced nod. Yes, he'd figure things out once he was away from this place. It was the hospital that was the problem. "Please. I want to go home." He was there once. Why had he left? 

"I can't let you do that; I'm sorry." 

"But--But I'm back now--" 

BECK-ETT! BECK-ETT! BECK-ETT!

There were so many voices this time, cheering his name. It was so loud Sam placed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. Go away! 

When he opened them again, he was seated at a piano. A crowd cheered him on, begging for more. He gasped and pulled back, staring intensely at the keys. Where was he now?! Bright lights from above blinded him and he shielded his eyes. The stimuli was overwhelming. 

His eyes adjusted. Stage lights. Posters with his face lined the walls. He was....performing? Somewhere. His eyes searched the crowd for someone, anyone, he knew. Someone to help. 

Sam!

Hands on his arms. He was back at the hospital. The doctor Al had an iron grip. "Stay with me now." 

Sam blinked. Al was gone. So was the crowd. So was the stage. 

Merciful, ominous silence. Sam jumped out of his seat, trembling. Had it stopped? God, he wished he knew anything at all. But the world had ceased spinning. It seemed that, for now, he'd decided to stay. 

Wherever he was, it was late. His hands flew to his face, shakily taking off a pair of reading glasses. He was...he was looking over something. A set of blueprints on a table. As he leaned in closer, his jaw fell slack as he began to recognize what this was for. Slowly, cautiously, he picked them up. 

This was what they'd been working on, before--before everything. Faster than light travel. Still incomplete, a theory, but closer now than they'd ever been. Sam stared with astonishment at the progress. They'd never gotten that far before Sam had moved on to his own project, embarked on the journey that led him beyond the constraints of linear time. But this was what had consumed his life before that. One of his most frustrating failures. 

Starbright. 

This was the building, wasn't it? But it was newer. Had fresh paint. Computers that were a little more advanced than the early 80s. It couldn't be when he'd originally been part of the project. Sam searched his pockets for a wallet to check the date. 

Instead he found a Blackberry. A...a smartphone, he vaguely remembered. Like the handlink. He'd been fascinated by the technology he'd missed over the years, but it was frustrating being a genius and suddenly being behind everyone else. Trying to remember how to use it, he turned it on and checked the calendar. 2003. He was still in the present...or something that looked like it. 

Or, in that hospital. Or dead. Or worse. 

Footsteps startled him. Gooshie was passing by the open door, but he stopped when he spotted Sam. "Dr. Beckett, what are you doing here?" he asked with surprise, "Usually I'm the only one working this late." 

For a moment, Sam thought back to the Gooshie at the hospital, snickering at the scientist's mush for brains. But this Gooshie was different, just like the Al and Sammy Jo in that other place had been different. If there was any chance this was actually happening, Sam had to play the part. "Uh...yeah, I just...wanted to go over everything." He got an idea. "I could use a break though."

"Yeah, me too." Gooshie took a second to consider if asking his next question would be an imposition, evidently deciding it was safe. "Join me for coffee?" 

That's exactly what Sam had been hoping for. He grinned and nodded, pretending to be assured. "I'd love that." 

-------

Project Starbright might have been updated over the last twenty years, but the break room looked exactly the same. Drab but functional, and just slightly yellow from years of previous indoor smoking. Gooshie sat down in a creaky fold up chair next to a faux wood table that had begun to peel, blowing on his coffee. Still out of sorts, Sam carefully took a seat across from him. He'd gone with tea. Tea calmed him, and that's what he needed right now. 

"Did you hear about Ike Bentenhoff?" Gooshie's breath still stank. Sam hadn't missed that. But that was one point toward reality on the scoreboard. He wouldn't smell Gooshie's breath in a delusion, right? 

Oh yeah. Gooshie had asked him something. "Er--no. What happened?" 

Noting Sam's anxious look, Gooshie straightened up and spoke reassuringly. "Oh, it's--it's not bad news, I just heard that his wife's having another baby." 

"Oh. That's...that's good. Good for them," Sam responded. The name sounded familiar. Someone Al had name-dropped once. He didn't remember exactly what he'd said, only that it hadn't been flattering. "That is good, right?"

Gooshie snorted. "Yeah, I think so. They're hoping for a girl this time." Nodding with acknowledgment, Sam started to pick at the peeling table. Gooshie's grin faded. "I'm being incredibly boring, aren't I?" 

"No." Sam looked up apologetically. "You're not. I've just had a long day."

Oh but this place brought back memories. Other late nights, poring over his work, dreams of time travel ahead of him. Al leaning over a filing cabinet, chuckling through a cigar as he told Sam about his latest conquest. They'd been so young then. Everything was just beginning, the future an exciting unknown. Despite himself, Sam let out a small laugh. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Nothing, just...it's been awhile since I've pulled an all-nighter." His eyebrows twitched. "I kinda miss nights like these." 

"Yeah," Gooshie sighed, waxing nostalgic, "I remember how you were at Quantum Leap. Guess it all catches up to you eventually, doesn't it?" 

Sam sat ramrod straight, shocked at this sudden revelation. "What did you just say?" 

"Um...it all catches up to you?" 

"No, you said--" Sam paused, gathering himself. Don't get his hopes up. "--you said Quantum Leap."

"Yeah?" Gooshie furrowed his brows, puzzled at his reaction. "What about it?" 

"Project Quantum Leap, the--the time travel project, that one?" Sam asked with barely concealed urgency. He couldn't discount the possibility of another odd change, or only hearing what he wanted to hear. He had to be sure. 

Now the other man was really lost. "...is there another Project Quantum Leap?" 

A sharp inhale. Sam was about ready to scream for joy. "No, there isn't..."

For the first time since he'd shattered into pieces, someone was acknowledging leaping. That it really happened, that he wasn't alone. Suddenly the Starbright break room was the greatest place he'd ever been and Gooshie was once again his lifeline. 

"Dr. Beckett?" 

Wait a minute. He said he remembered how Sam was at the Project. Past tense. Sam's initial excitement slightly ebbed away. "What happened?" 

"...what happened?" 

"To the project. Why aren't we there now?"

A pause. Gooshie skewed his mouth. "Er--well, because we ran out of funding. It was shut down, remember?" 

1995. They'd threatened to pull funding several times, but Sam knew this time they meant it. Just the same as he knew that he could prove his theory correct by jumping into the Accelerator. Except, this time he never did. 

Once again, Sam's high hopes fell like a popped balloon. "So I never traveled in time...did I?" 

"...no?" 

It had shut down. Instead of using his Accelerator, Sam had simply given up. He never got trapped in the past...and maybe Sam should've considered that good news, but all he could feel was a sense of loss. All of the ripples disappearing. Had he helped no one? Never experienced or learned the things he thought he had? The Sam who stepped into the Accelerator was not the same Sam he was now. 

Whoever he was.

Think. He was scientist, damn it. It was time for him to stop letting irrational thoughts drive him forward. Something logical was happening here, if only he could see past the fog in his brain. Time travel wasn't made of magic; there was a system, an order. He understood it. Understood enough to know that whatever was happening had broken the rules. Because...because he'd broken them in the first place.

When he'd used his machine to connect him to Al's mesons and neurons, destabilized his atoms. He had leaped, but it was all of his atoms, everywhere. It couldn't make sense of the destination, so maybe...maybe they'd found somewhere new. 

Dr. B?

"You should talk to Ziggy."

It was Tina. Sam was suddenly seated in the hospital rec room with a half-finished puzzle in front of him. "Um..." He got his bearings, blinking. A frown. "What?" 

"I said you should talk to Ziggy."

"Ziggy?" 

"Poor, crazy Dr. B..." Tina shook her head with pity. Guiltily biting her lip, she seated herself across from him and placed her hand over his. "I don't know what wacky thing you're dealing with this time, but I feel bad about teasing you so much. You look like you got chewed up and spit out. I mean...I still think you're kinda nuts, but if you can understand me now, you should talk to Ziggy. You always feel better when you talk to her. She knows stuff. I bet she can help you figure out whatever problem you're trying to solve." 

Ziggy. But this was the hospital. He hadn't leaped here. And whatever Tina was talking about, he wasn't sure if it was out of sincere guilt or perhaps she too didn't quite think like everyone else. Maybe it was another cruel prank. But he was willing to follow this thread of thought, because he was starting to get an idea. God, an actual idea. What a concept. 

"Where is Ziggy?" Sam asked, standing up. Let her believe he was still in a fantasy world. It made things easier. 

"This way." Tina reached out and gently took him by the hand, tugging him away from the rec room. Was this what he was like here? Shambling along the hall, righting wrongs in his mind while in reality he was being led along by whoever took it upon themselves? 

They reached a private room. Tina rapped on the door and slowly opened it, waving Sam inside. Wary of who was in there, Sam nonetheless pushed himself forward. 

A woman sat in a chair and stared out the window, knees drawn up to her chest and a knowing grin on her face. Her dark skin was pale from being inside for a prolonged period of time, long, uncombed hair framing her lovely features. When they entered, she made no acknowledgment of their presence. 

"Heya Ziggy," Tina said with a smile, leaning forward playfully, "Sam's here to see you." 

The woman--Ziggy?--perked up. She didn't look at them, seemingly staring at something invisible to the human eye. "I knew you'd come. I predicted it, of course." 

Sam didn't know the face, but he sure knew the voice. That was Ziggy...or at least, an approximation of her. With hesitant intrigue, he circled over to her right. He knew this wasn't his Ziggy, of course, but now he was curious. "Hello," he greeted her, a question in his voice. 

"Tell me there's a wrong to put right," she sighed at the window, resting her chin on her knees, "I'm so terribly bored." 

She was Ziggy, kinda. Haughty, frustrated. Eager for knowledge and purpose. 

A pause. Well...what did he have to lose? He was already in an institution. "Well...Ziggy..." Sam began. It felt strange calling this woman by that name. But he had to admit, she did sound like her. "Actually, I'm floating around a theory. Would you like to hear it?" 

"Ooh, I love it when you hypothesize, Dr. Beckett." 

"I'll take that as a yes." Hands folded behind his back, Sam paced as he started to work out everything in his head. He wasn't sure if this Ziggy would be of much use, but sometimes it helped just to say everything out loud. "Okay, you know how I leaped into 1876?"

"I'm incapable of forgetting anything." Yeah, right. She was as overconfident as the real Ziggy, at least. Actually, when Sam wasn't traveling in time, it was pretty damn hard for him to forget anything either. He was sure there was a fascinating story with this woman, if he had the time. Which, of course, he didn't right now. 

"Right. So anyway, my pattern became unstable and, during the last leap out, my atoms completely fell apart..."

"Mm-hm." 

"...and all of that time, I thought I was dying, but now, I'm not so sure. I mean, I guess I'm here," Sam said reasonably, "I think I've been going about this all wrong." He stopped, knitting his brows and rubbing his temple. "Think about it. It's just like Al's mesons and neurons. They wanted to reunite with Al. My atoms, by their very nature, want to stick together. But they all were going to different destinations. So what if..." He bit his lip. "...what if, when they leaped out, they tried find each other? Everywhere? And...and that had never happened before. So instead of traveling in time, I somehow...opened a different doorway." 

Tina, who was still listening in, stared with her mouth open dumbly. "A doorway? A doorway where?" 

Sam craned his head back to face her, the theory solidifying in his mind. "...to another world. A parallel dimension."

"A parallel dimension?" 

Yes. That was it! Suddenly everything was less terrifying because he had some small idea of what his problem was. And if he had a problem, he could solve it. "Yeah...it's--it's superposition--everything that could happen has happened, simultaneously. The Multiverse Theory." A small smile crept up on his face. "Only...it's not a theory anymore. This isn't my reality, but a Sam's reality. And so is the world where I'm back at Starbright, or raising Sammy Jo." 

The revelation stunned him. If other dimensions existed, then who was to say what else was real? Not so long ago, he would have thought it less provable than time travel, and certainly not within reach. But somehow, unintentionally, he'd made another impossible leap forward. Despite his less than ideal situation, the scientist in him was excited by the new possibilities. 

Tina giggled. This was too ridiculous even for her. "You're tellin' us you're from some other dimension?" 

Ziggy sighed. "She's so slow, isn't she?" 

Sam laughed to himself. He was from another dimension. It still sounded outlandish, but so far it was the theory that held up the best under scrutiny. But if this was what was happening, then Sam had to acknowledge that he had no control over any of it. This presented one or two issues. 

He began to move again, laying it out as much for his own benefit as for them. "But I don't think my way of travel was supposed to happen, or if we're meant to travel to different universes to begin with. It's...rejecting me. So my body keeps getting pushed from one place to another. And without a way of targeting myself back to the dimension I belong in...I could be bouncing around forever. Or...until I actually die." 

Like leaping...but alone. Had he imprisoned himself again, the same story but a different face? Only, this was different, wasn't it? Because here he had no one to anchor him, no goal, no purpose. He'd just be drifting between lives he never led, with no thought of rescue. He had to save himself. But just maybe...he could. 

"It seems to me you know the solution already," Ziggy said, leaning her head against her chair lackadaisically, "But I'll explain it if I must." 

Now Sam was curious. "What do you think I'm supposed to do?" 

"Find the world capable of assisting you." 

Sam's mouth crooked up. This Ziggy was pretty smart after all. "It's like you read my mind, Ziggy." 

"What's she talkin' about?" Tina asked, lost. 

"In one of these worlds, I built a parallel hybrid supercomputer. If I can find one with her in it..." Sam glanced at the woman in the chair. "...I might be able to send myself back to the dimension I belong in."

Back to sanity. Back to the people he knew. He realized now that the situation wasn't as dire as it seemed, because unlike the previous scenario where he simply ceased to exist, he now had a chance. A small fraction of a chance--a needle in a multidimensional haystack--but a chance. The issue now was really how long this would take. He wasn't staying in one place for long, but time seemed to be passing regardless. Once he found a world with the right Ziggy, he had to hope he stayed long enough to get the research started, and that the Sam from there continued in his stead. He'd returned to this hospital multiple times so far, so he could reasonably assume he'd return to the dimension he needed--but he was at the mercy of random chance. And he didn't like that loss of control. 

But he liked the challenge. He'd invented a time machine, so what was dimension hopping to him anyway? 

But then again...he hadn't quite figured out how retrieve himself from time either. 

Dad?

Another voice, another jump. But this time, there was minimal disorientation. Like he'd gotten the hang of it, almost. This wasn't necessarily the dimension he needed to go to, but it was the one he'd most wanted to revisit. Sam's heart was filled with love when he saw his daughter. Sammy Jo was standing outside a chain restaurant and looking back at him, hand on the door. A little older than he'd remembered when he first met her, but still a child. He hadn't been sure if or when he'd see her again. 

Sam realized he was staring. "Oh. Uh, sorry, I was just lost in thought," he explained, trying to sound lighthearted. He quickly strode over and took the door handle, pulling it open for her. "After you." 

But she didn't go in right away. "You're gonna do great, trust me," she said supportively, "She's gonna love you. I mean, I do. Besides..." She shrugged. "If you don't like her, you have my permission to use me to bail you out. Tell her I've got homework or something." She smirked and headed inside, but now Sam was standing still. 

"Sammy Jo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I love you too, sweetheart." 

Sammy Jo looked a little self-conscious now. She lifted a single shoulder. "Okay, Dad. Let's not make this something major." 

Sam chuckled, heading inside. "Right...you don't want Dad embarrassing you." 

"You don't embarrass me," Sammy Jo protested, a little red, "It's just...I'm not a kid anymore. Y'know? You don't have to call me 'sweetheart' and stuff like that." 

Sam nodded knowingly. "Oh. I keep forgetting you're a grown up now." 

A server approached and led them toward an empty table. Sam had cottoned on to the fact this must be that double date Al and Sharon were setting him up on, but neither they nor the mystery woman had shown up yet. He didn't mind, because that meant he had more time with Sammy Jo. Even if...she wasn't really his. Right? But for the moment, she was.

"I mean, in a year I can get my driver's license," Sammy Jo said as she sat down, "Then I can drive myself to school, get a job...adult stuff." 

Sam wasn't in any hurry for her to grow up. She was perfect as is. He sipped at his complementary water and nodded in acknowledgment. "How is school going anyway?" 

Sammy Jo played with her straw. "I mean...it's okay." 

"Just okay?" 

"Everyone's older than me. It's hard to make friends."

Sam felt a tinge of pride...she was just like him. With her smarts, she had to've soared past her classmates and skipped a few grades. When he was around her age, he was at MIT and a foot shorter than everyone else. He knew how alienating it could be. "I remember how that felt. I didn't have a lot of friends back then either." 

"Yeah?" Sammy Jo asked curiously. It wasn't exactly encouraging. 

"Oh yeah." Sam realized she was looking for the bright side. And while he'd struggled with his ability to connect, he knew that things had gotten better. He thought of the people that were in and out of his life, until he'd met the greatest friend he'd ever have. "I can't say making friends is easy, but...when you find the right one, you'll have them for life."

Sammy Jo grinned. "Like you and Al?" 

"Like me and Al." 

"Everybody stop, because the party's here!" 

"Speak of the devil..." Sam murmured with a smirk. 

Al had entered the restaurant in his loudest outfit to match his loud entrance. He spotted Sam as Sharon made her way inside. "Sammy boy! There you are."

"Ally boy! Over here." Sam jerked his head toward the table, and Al obliged. 

Sharon was holding the door open for his date. "She's coming, hang on," she explained quickly, "She just forgot something in the car. Oh, Sam, I know you'll just love her. She's perfect for you." 

Whoever Sharon thought was a good match for Sam, he was sure she was nothing like his type. But he didn't care. For the first time since he'd began this mess, he was starting to enjoy himself. 

"Oh, there she is. Come on in." Sharon opened the door wider and inside stepped Sam's date. And as soon as their eyes met, both of them were frozen in shock. 

"Donna."

"Sam?"  

Neither of them could move. Sam hadn't expected to see her at this particular junction, but then again, he should expect anything and everything when it came to dimension-hopping. But still. Even in another universe, his feelings for his ex-wife were complicated. 

Sharon looked between the two of them with surprise. "Oh, you two know each other already?" 

"You could say that." Donna was nervously twisting the strap of her purse. "I, um...I left Sam at the altar fifteen years ago." 

Sam sunk into his chair awkwardly. That still happened, huh? 

A pause. Al's eyes drifted toward the bar. "Uh, who wants drinks?" 

Camera flashes. Sam blinked and he was standing on stage again. An arm linked into his. He turned in time to meet Donna's lips. He'd barely had time to adjust to her being there on an awkward blind date, but now they were very much together. Entwined as one...like before. 

It was only a brief moment, but to Sam it was forever. She pulled away and squeezed him close, a congratulations as the crowd cheered. She looked...gorgeous. Her understated black gown reflected sequins under the stage lights, but she could have been wearing jeans and a t-shirt and Sam still would have found her resplendent. The crowd had disappeared and all he saw was her. 

She leaned in and told him, "You played wonderfully tonight." 

"Th...thank you." 

"Come on. Don't be shy." She was speaking to someone just off stage, encouraging them forward. Two children nervously stepped out, a five year old boy and eight year old girl. Both strangers but with familiar features, pieces of their mom and dad. They ran toward them, hugging Sam and Donna close. 

He knew who they were from the moment he saw them. 

"Good job, Daddy..." the eight year old said. The five year old was entranced by the crowd. 

Sam's throat had closed. Their children, the ones he and Donna had never had. Never had a chance to have. They were beautiful. 

Sam.

"I never explained to you...why I did what I did." 

In an instant, it was gone. Sam felt like he'd lost a limb, the phantom touch of his wife and children. Who were they? He'd never even gotten to learn their names, but he'd loved them. He wished he'd never gone to that world if it was going to be ripped away from him so awfully. All that was left now was the cruel distance between him and a lonelier Donna who'd stopped before things ever started. 

They were standing outside the restaurant, a cool breeze cutting through the warm summer night. They'd stepped away from their double date, taken some time alone. Guilt permeated off of her in waves. He wished he could hold her like the Donna from moments before. 

Sam swallowed back his pain, forcing himself to be part of this reality again. "You don't have to explain," he softly replied. He knew why. She had to leave before he left her...which he did. 

"But I do." Donna stepped close, but kept her distance. "I know I hurt you a lot. I just disappeared, and...and I owed you more than that." 
 
He knew this was real to him at some point, at least that Donna had left him. But he'd changed that, changed his memories. He had no recollection of this life, only the leap that erased it. In the new history he'd created...it had ended with him leaving her. Not that it had stopped him from the temptation of seeing her again when he'd leaped back. But what had happened then was not the same as the connection he felt on that stage. 

"I was just...scared."

"That I'd leave you. I know."

Donna rubbed her arm, blinked back tears. She couldn't look him in the eye. "You must think I'm so awful." 

Sam frowned, puzzled. "How could I ever think that?" 

"Because..." Donna sighed, glistening eyes reflecting the stars, "...I wasn't strong enough." 

If she only knew. Sam reached out to touch her, but like everything else now, she disappeared.

He was in Starbright again. With a long, slow exhale, Sam pulled his hands down his face and sat down on a swivel chair. These worlds might not be the one he was from, but some version of him lived them. In that way, they were all his. Every success and every failure rested squarely on his shoulders. The added weight felt heavy and smothering.

Donna felt she wasn't strong enough, but she didn't know who she was really talking to. He'd cracked and broken, and glued himself together. And he'd thought that glue would hold, but as soon as he'd stepped into the Accelerator he'd felt himself coming apart. He didn't know if he had the resilience to make it through this latest trial, but he had to try. He was determined not to fail himself. Fail Al, and...

Al. He needed him. He was real, and he was his. If Sam couldn't do it for himself, he had to do it for him. 

Or...maybe he could do it with him. 

He didn't have his own Al here, but there was another Al in the meantime, right? Sam was always stronger with him by his side. Even in another dimension, he'd help him get home. This wasn't the hospital. The Al here would believe him. 

Project Quantum Leap existed in this world. And if that existed, so did Ziggy. Before Sam jumped again, he needed to take action. Hopping out of his chair, he wandered into the hall and tried to recall where the exit was. 

"Afternoon, Dr. Becke--"

"Al--where's Al?" 

Taken aback by the abrupt interruption, Gooshie nearly spilled his coffee. "Hm? W-What do you mean?" 

"I need to talk to him." Sam didn't have time to search this whole place, so he just had to hope Gooshie knew. Then he could book it to whatever room he was in and try to explain everything. Hopefully. 

"Oh. Um..." Gooshie scratched his head, confused. "Well, er, last I heard he was in Washington...I think." 

Sam furrowed his brows, taken aback. He'd just assumed. If funding had run out on Project Quantum Leap, Al would've gone back to Starbright with him. That's how close they were. Where Sam went, so did Al. "Washington? Why isn't he here?" 

"Huh?" 

"Never mind." Whatever had happened, Sam couldn't afford to listen to the answer right now. He had to move fast before he left. "Do you have his number?" 

"I don't know if it's current, but I think so." 

-------

Tapping his foot nervously, Sam leaned against the wall outside and clung to his cell phone like his life depended on it. It sort of did. He didn't know what Al was up to in this place, but he hoped he got to the phone soon. Sam wondered why he was so worried about him, but there wasn't a lot that didn't worry him at the moment. 

"Hello?" 

Sam hadn't realized what kind of impact his voice would have on him. It was physical, a wave of relief as he clung to his life preserver. This was the closest he'd gotten to his own Al since he'd landed in that hospital. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Al...I'm glad you answered." 

"Who is this?"

Sam was unable to respond for a moment. It hurt that he didn't know right away. "...um, it's Sam." 

A pause. "Sam?" Al's voice took on a brighter tone, "Gee, this is...this is a surprise. Hang on, lemme go into a quieter room..." 

Sam could hear some shuffling, doors closing. He again wondered why Al wasn't here with him now. Maybe just wanted him here. He fidgeted with his sleeve, needing something to do with his hands. 

"That's better. Sorry, Tina has some of her friends over..."

At this, Sam couldn't help but smile. They were still together. "Tina...did you ever get around to marrying her this time?"

"Very funny, Sam. I'm the one who's supposed to forget who I married and when, not you." That sounded like the Al Sam knew. He laughed. "So, uh, what's the occasion? It's been a few years." 

That last part hit like a punch to the gut. Sam's smile faded. "A few years..." 

"Yeah, last I saw you it was, uh...what, 2000? When we stopped over to see Tina's sister?" 

Now Sam was quiet. The phone nearly slipped from his hands. 

"You still there?" 

"Um...y-yeah..."

"Kid?"

He still called him kid. Sam closed his eyes again. "Al? Why haven't we talked to each other?" 

A pause. "I dunno, uh...you know how things are. QL dissolved, the suits gave me a new job up here...people just drift apart sometimes." 

Not friendships like this. Like him and Al. Sam couldn't envision a world where they'd been through all they had and somehow let time part them. Was their foundation really that wobbly? 

Al sensed the struggle on the other end, regardless of if he knew the reason why. He cleared his throat. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you called. I missed you, Sam." 

"...I missed you too, Al." 

"So what's going on?" 

Sam didn't know why he was focusing so much on this when it wasn't really his Al. But he did know he had to move forward. He pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk. "I...I realize this is coming from out of nowhere, but I need your help." 

"What sort of help?" 

"Al...does Ziggy still exist?" 

A hesitant pause. "I know that one hurt, Sam, but it is what it is. Don't do this to yourself." 

Sam stopped. "Do what to myself?" 

"Obsess. The Navy took over the operation and you've never been able to let it go."

"The Navy?" Sam scrunched his face. That's what happened when funding ran out? It had simply become another military program? 

"I know you're worried they're gonna use Ziggy as some sort of weapon or something, but we can't know what they're doing or control it. I tried to stay on, and they wouldn't let me. It's not in our hands anymore. So just move on."

This had been one of Sam's greatest fears, part of the driving force that had led to him leaping in the first place. That his project would be taken from him and repurposed as part of the war machine. He respected the Navy, but he knew why the government would want Ziggy. And it was against everything he stood for. They would use her to harm people, to dominate, part of a neverending quest for more power. All he wanted to do was help people.

But he shook his head. Focus. This was all speculation at this point. "I...I can't. I mean--that's not what this is about." 

"Then what is it?" 

Project Quantum Leap might not exist as it was, but Ziggy had still been created for that purpose. She was still a parallel hybrid supercomputer. There was a chance she could still help Sam get back to his world, and he had to take it. So far, this was the only reality he'd visited where she had even been invented. Gripping the phone tightly, Sam hoped this Al would listen to him. "Al...believe me when I say this is life or death. I need to see Ziggy." 

"Sam..." 

It was the tone that bothered him, the pity edged into his friend's response. As if he saw him as the Sam from the hospital, chasing ghosts long gone or never were. Sam's palms were sweaty. He swallowed, hating the desperation in his voice. "Please..." 

Oh, Samuel...

Even in his current circumstances, Sam was still in shock when he heard that voice. Literally, physically, the color drained from his face and his body reacted as if to a grievous wound. No. God, no!

His grip threatened to break the phone, as if he could keep himself there if he held on hard enough. But in an instant, he was in a new place, an old place....a terrible place. He looked down, perhaps he was wrong. He had to be wrong. But his black jumpsuit only confirmed his fears. 

Shaking uncontrollably, Sam was otherwise unable to move. No, he wasn't here. He wasn't here. God, he couldn't be here. 

"Look at me, Samuel." 

That voice. That damn voice. It moved through him like poison. Sam's breathing was erratic. He was gasping for air. 

Because he didn't move, his tormentor instead circled around him. The face of his nightmares, his own personal devil, peered at him with amusement. Edward St. John the Fifth. Director of the evil Project, master of torture, returned from Hell to drag Sam back down with him. "My my...you're shaking." He craned his head and tutted with mock pity. "You must have known this was coming. I don't like to be disappointed." 

Sam felt every ounce of progress flee from him, leaving a hollow void deeper than the nothing he'd been trapped in. Frail, small, empty. If he allowed himself to feel anything but terror, he'd feel ashamed at how quickly he'd reverted back to what he thought he'd left behind. Inside he was screaming for help, begging for someone, anyone, to find him, but his throat was too tight to emit anything other than broken wheezing. 

He'd told himself he'd never get out. Sometimes he dreamed he was still there. But when he'd wake up, he'd repeat to himself that they were dead and this place was gone. However, that comfort had been torn away now because anything, anywhere was possible. He couldn't go through this again intact. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest and knock him dead where he stood. 

St. John slowly closed in, a monster ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow Sam whole. His mouth was turned up in a razor grin. A blade ready to strike like the hammer that had cracked his skull. 

Glass. Needles. Blood. Howls. 

There was no rescue coming this time. 

"Now, Samuel..." St. John scolded, "Don't be such a baby. Take your punishment like a good little boy." 

Suddenly, hands were on him. Guards. Zoey stood nearby with a knife in hand. That's when Sam's hysteria kicked in and allowed him movement again. He jerked and kicked wildly, but he couldn't escape their grip. He'd gotten out! He'd gotten out! He wasn't here! 

"NO! NO! LET ME GO!"  

SAM!
 
"Calm down! You're going to hurt yourself!" 

More hands, more awful hands. The straitjacket was being put back on. Sam twisted and turned, jerking frantically away from the hospital orderlies. "NO! GET ME OUT OF THIS!" He elbowed one of them in the face, but someone else quickly had him restrained as they began to buckle him up. He yelled and kicked out his feet instead, so they wrestled him to the ground. He had to get out of this jacket, this place. His sanity depended on it. Couldn't Al see that?! "AL! HELP ME!" 

The doctor Al had that look from before, the sadness, the disappointment. He sighed and said something to another orderly, who handed him a syringe. 

The needle. It glinted in the light, deadly. This wasn't his friend. He wasn't safe. He was in Hell. 

Sam wriggled uselessly on the floor, shaking his head as the devil who looked like Al got closer. "No! Al! Please, no!" 

"Relax, Sam," Al said gently, lowering the needle, "This is to calm you down. We don't want you or anyone else getting hurt." 

"No! No!" Too late. Sam closed his eyes, unwanted memories flooding back to him. He continued to struggle, but the more he fought, the weaker he felt. The drug began to send him into a confused haze. "I have to....have to get out...find Ziggy..." 

When he opened his eyes, he could see a concerned Al hovering over him. For a brief moment, he could almost see his friend again. Hidden. He had to reach him. He was the only one who could help him, ever really could. Sam couldn't do this alone. 

"Al..." Sam croaked, head lolling to the side, "...don't let me go back there...Please, I don't want to go back..." 

He'd gone from one nightmare to another, but anything was better than where he was. He could still see them there, hear them approaching with hoof-fall. If God had any mercy on him, he'd never go back. He had to stay here. To fight. But he felt so miniscule. 

"Don't worry, Sam...we're going to help you." 

Don't let me go, Al.

"Dr. Beckett?" 

Sam squinted. It was different this time. He had stayed here, but the voice was new. His dazed eyes swept across the room and landed on Gooshie, but he wasn't the patient from this hospital. The Gooshie he knew, a hologram in a lab coat and flickering just slightly. He faded in and out, clutching the handlink like a lifeline. "G-Gooshie...?" 

"We're trying to get you back. Just hang on!" 

Sam knit his brows. Could it really be his Gooshie? But how was he here? Maybe it was the drug. Or maybe...no, it was the drug. He wasn't crazy. 

"Oh, Sam...what happened to you?" Donna stood next to Gooshie, the Donna from the restaurant, watching him sadly.  She shouldn't be here either. 

"Enjoy your freedom while you can, Samuel...I'm coming for you." 

It was the sight of Edward St. John the Fifth that led Sam into merciful unconsciousness.   

Chapter Text

All Sam could feel was a numbness, a cold deeper than the snow outside. His attempts to leave his body had been futile, leaving only him and the slab and the venomous creatures that filled his head with dark thoughts. Zoey had the tools, but the Director was the most dangerous.

He'd had this dream before. Not exactly, but the same pieces rearranged. It was always the same.

Zoey had her hand on her chin in thought, deciding her next move. "Isn't it delicious?" she asked her master cheerily, "Our Dr. Beckett willingly stepped back into this situation. We're dead...and yet he put himself right back into our clutches. Oh, the poor fool..." She laughed. Her eyes flicked down to address Sam directly."...you were free, you know."

He'd been home. It was his gift. His reward. And he'd given it up.

"Not true." Adjusting his leather gloves, St. John tutted with pity. "Freedom is such an illusion. The truth is, Samuel, everywhere you go...you take us with you. You can fool the world, but you can't fool yourself."

Al needed him. He had to go. But what good was he if he immediately fell apart? Had he helped him at all? How naive he'd been to think he was ready, that he was strong. St. John was right. He would always be in chains.

"Wake up, little boy...we're waiting for you."

Hands were around his neck. Sam gasped and flailed.

The screams only came when Sam returned to consciousness, shooting upright in bed. He could feel the sweat soaking through his clothes, but couldn't see anything in the darkness. They could be anywhere! He was exposed, vulnerable! He could feel their eyes watching him, waiting to strike when he let his guard down for only a moment. 

The light came on and he yelped, frozen in place. But it wasn't them. It was Tom. 

His worried brother was dressed in pajama pants and looking tired. "Sam, hey--" 

"Tom!" Sam gasped, eyes darting around the room. He couldn't relax until he knew where he'd landed. "Where am I? What's going on?"

Sighing, Tom rubbed his eyes and kept his patience. "It's okay, Sam. You're home. You're you." 

It took some time for Sam to simply breathe. But...it was true. He recognized it now. His room, in Hawaii. Where he'd been staying with his mother and Katie and...and sometimes Tom. As soon as he'd found out Sam had returned, he'd taken the first flight to see them. They couldn't stop talking until three in the morning. Sam had felt happy then, he thought. He hadn't seen him since...well, because Sam had changed the timeline, it had technically been the first time he'd seen his brother since 1970. But he didn't remember when Tom was dead, he remembered him getting married and having kids and...and wondering why Sam didn't call more. But when Sam returned, he'd welcomed him fully and warmly into his heart, as if they'd never been apart. 

Now that Sam was calming down, Tom stepped closer with a comforting grin. "You were having one of your dreams again. But you're back, Sam." 

It happened, sometimes. He'd think he was...in that place, or forget he wasn't on a leap. It took awhile to not be shocked at his own reflection. Not always, of course, and it got better with time. Verbena had said it was to be expected. But he'd been grateful for his family's understanding, their immense support. The Becketts were always kind. That's where he'd learned it, after all. 

"Yeah..." Sam breathed with relief, running his hand through his hair, "That's right. I leaped ba..." A pause. Sam whipped toward Tom, suddenly struck with something. "I leaped." 

"No. You're not on a leap." 

"No, I mean--" Sam pulled the sheets back, swinging his feet over the side of the bed excitedly. "I-In this world, I leaped."

Tom frowned, not sure where he was going with this. "Yeah...?" 

Sam was out of bed now, pacing. "That means I can fix this here. Ziggy, she's the same. I found the one!" He laughed triumphantly. The world where Ziggy was operating and he could travel in time. It didn't seem much different than his own world, give or take a few months. This was his best chance at ending this nightmare. He just needed his supercomputer and his best friend. 

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked, growing increasingly more concerned at his brother's erratic behavior. 

But Sam wasn't focused on any of that, too distracted by the plan he was already ten steps ahead on. He skidded to a stop, rushing over and grabbing Tom's arms with enthusiasm. "Tom! This is important. I need to talk to Al." 

Tom froze, staring at Sam as if he'd just started speaking an alien language. "Al?" 

"Yeah, is he--" Noticing Tom's look, Sam's smile faded with disappointment. "He's still leaping...isn't he?" Sam hadn't gone to find him yet. That didn't mean Ziggy couldn't help, Sam just wished he'd been here too. 

But Tom just looked sadder. He averted his eyes, unable to look at Sam now. Sam knew what that meant. He was hiding something. 

"What? What is it?" 

"Maybe, um...maybe I'd better show you." 

-------

Fabrizio Calavicci
Born 1830 - Died 1876

It was a simple grave, lucky considering he'd died a fugitive from the law. But the person in the ground wasn't truly Fabrizio Calavicci, it was his great-grandnephew, who had leaped into his time and never made it out. Al had been buried with another face and another name, his true identity unknown for well over a century. Murdered in cold blood, waiting for a rescue that never came. 

Sam stood still beside the grave, unable to say anything for what seemed like years. How could anything be enough? Tom stood behind him, a strong support and gentle comfort. He remained silent as well, allowing Sam whatever time he needed. But Sam wished there was something, anything, to fill the quiet. 

At last Sam spoke, sadness and anger and every emotion as hot tears brimmed in his eyes. "I promised him." 

"Sam...please don't beat yourself up over this." 

"No, you don't understand, Tom!" Sam yelled, turning to face him, "He needed me and I abandoned him! What kind of friend am I?!" 

Al had just waited. Trusted and believed in a lie. It didn't matter that this was another dimension, because some version of him had done this and his best friend had paid the price.

"Sam..." But Tom was sickeningly understanding. Sam didn't know why he wasn't just as furious. "You don't know what would've happened if you'd decided to go to Washington. But even if it turns out you could have kept the Project from shutting down and leaped back and found him...absolutely no one is blaming you for choosing to stay."

"You mean because I was too cowardly to go?" Sam repeated with disgust, "I would have saved him, Tom. That's what would have happened. And now he's dead because of me." 

Al. He was gone. Maybe forever. 

Sam...

"You coming?"

It was always jarring, but this time was particularly disorienting. Sam still had tears in his eyes when he looked up from Al's grave to his friend standing before him, gazing back with a question mark on his face. Living and breathing and wearing one of those magnificently terrible outfits Sam hated. The sight was so beautiful that Sam nearly lost his breath. 

Not his, but some Sam's. A Sam that didn't leave him behind. It felt like redemption. 

"Al. You're alive..." 

"What?" 

"I mean, um..." Sam trailed off, the thought unfinished. Where were they? They were standing in a car park, but a very specific car park. A car park that required a name badge and a palm scanner to get inside. This was Project Quantum Leap. 

"Listen, I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but my connections aren't gonna let us in to see Ziggy for long. So we'd better hurry." Al gestured toward the door urgently. 

Once again, Sam felt a twinge of hope rise up in his chest. This was the world where he'd lost funding and left, where he'd last been begging Al for help getting access to their supercomputer. He'd thought he wasn't getting through, but that only showed him how foolish he was not to believe in Al. 

They were actually here, now, on their way to see Ziggy. Sam's mouth twitched up, touched. "You came here...to help me."

His friend. Always. 

Al's face softened. "Course I did. You think I was gonna let you do somethin' nuts without me?" 

That's what was wonderful about Al. He never let him down, no matter how far they'd drifted apart or what world they were in. He was his protector. Built of an armor Sam only wished he had. 

He was waiting. Sam grinned appreciatively and went inside. 

"Let's just hope I don't regret this..." Al mumbled, following close behind. 

-------

Sam might have hours or he might have moments, but he still couldn't help but feel hopeful that he was on the right track. After all, whoever he was in this dimension, he'd taken up Al's offer and come here. Once they talked to Ziggy, one or both of him would figure out his next step. And after his latest traumatizing visits, he was glad to finally see something familiar. He was at the Project. His project. It was like coming home.

But it wasn't his at all. Once Sam stepped inside, he had to stop and recover. Oh, it was awful. 

They'd gutted it. The beautiful blue panels that had lined the walls were stripped out, replaced with hard, lifeless brick. This wasn't home. It wasn't anything resembling home. 

"You okay, kid?" 

No, he wasn't. Maybe not for a long time. 

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. "Yeah. Let's just...talk to Ziggy."

The further inside they went, the more Sam's guts shriveled up. All of his life's work had been transformed beyond recognition. Military personnel stood at various points and asked for ID, but they weren't like the people from his world. No friendly faces, no staff in lab coats. Just people at a job, and suspicious of these outsiders. But still, Sam told himself he was close to what he wanted. 

A longer set of questions. Al finally gave Sam the go ahead, and they stepped into the Control Room. 

Gray, metal, cold. Sam didn't recognize it. The doors to the Imaging Chamber, Accelerator, and Waiting Room had been sealed. The only remaining vestiges of the Project that once was were a darkened console and blue orb above them. Like...she was dead. 

Last leap, she'd thought of him as her father. He remembered how much he'd wanted to hug her, tell her it would be alright. She knew he was going to leave her, but she was proud of him. Compassionate...human. He loved her.

Now she looked...empty. 

"It's...it's different," Sam commented, unsure of what to say. 

"Yeah, spooks me too..." Al agreed with a shudder, adjusting the lapels of his blue suit. "It wouldn't kill them to keep a little color around here. But I guess the Navy was never big on aesthetic." He pursed his lips apologetically. 

Well. There she was. 

Al looked to Sam, waiting for him to make his move. Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Ziggy?" 

A long pause. At first, Sam wasn't sure if she was going to do anything...but then, a dim light shone from within. A dying ember. 

"State your name and security code," came the monotone response. 

Her voice was the same, but that wasn't Ziggy. She was a computer. 

"It's me," Sam tried, desperate, "Uh--Dr. Beckett. Don't you remember?" 

"I do not recognize a Dr. Beckett. Please input your visitor's security code." 

How could she not recognize him? She was part of him. Surely she could still sense it? She was more than a number cruncher, she had thoughts and feelings. She wasn't just a machine. 

"Zig--" 

"PF163947," Al provided. The ball lit up brighter. 

"Visitor code accepted. State your purpose." 

After a moment, Al gestured for Sam to continue. "Oh, um..." Sam started to pace nervously, wondering what he would say now. He had to keep moving. "Ziggy...I need your help." He eyed Al nervously. From his perspective, Sam hadn't even achieved time travel, close as he was. Would he be able to accept that not only had he traveled in time, but he was a Sam from another universe? 

"More input needed."  

"What if...I told you I did travel in time?" The question was directed at both the computer and his friend. Al furrowed his brows. "That...the experiment was a success...sort of. But that something went horribly wrong." 

Now Al had to say something. "Sam, what're you talkin' about?" 

"I promise I'll explain everything, but first, I need to know..." Sam looked back up at Ziggy, pleading. "Ziggy...can you help me?" 

A beat. The ball went dark. Sam held his breath. At last, she was illuminated again. 

"Question not recognized. Please restate." 

She was gone.

Sinking, falling, reaching. The floor disappeared. For Sam, this was his best chance. "Help, Ziggy. Please. I need to get home." 

"Question not recognized. Please restate." 

"Ziggy..." Sam breathed, hopeless. No, please no. 

She couldn't just be a computer. Because...because if he didn't have her, he was trapped in this state. No wrong to put right to escape. Just....endless madness, pieces of lives he could have lived. All of his failures on full display. 

More than anything, he wanted his own Al to tell him it would be okay. To make up for what he lacked alone.

But Sam didn't even have this Al anymore. He was standing in his room in Hawaii again, alone in the dark. With Al under the ground. Rain pattered sadly against the window, and Sam wrapped his arms around himself. It wasn't exactly his world, but it was what he had looked back on and wondered. That maybe he'd be better off home again. But...this wasn't what he'd wanted. He wasn't okay here. He wasn't okay anywhere. 

His eye caught the mirror on the wall. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped closer and studied his face. He looked pale, tired. Old. Weak. He hated it. 

If he'd stopped being so scared, Al would be alive. It didn't matter if it was another Sam. It was him. They were all reflections of himself. 

And his fist smashed into the mirror with a deafening shatter. 

Sam? Are you on a leap?

The straitjacket again. Sam stared at the wall, too despondent to muster up much of a response. "No. I'm here." 

Here. Forever.

Dr. Calavicci raised his eyebrows, inching forward just slightly in his chair. "That's good, Sam. Stay here for awhile." 

At this, Sam let out a humorless chuckle. "I couldn't even if I wanted to..." 

It didn't matter what he wanted. He was trapped. 

A beat. Dr. Calavicci considered him for a moment before taking off his glasses and setting his notes aside. "You know..." he said softly, clearing his throat, "...you may be the smartest man in the world, Sam Beckett. Do you realize that? The smartest man in the world." He used his hands for emphasis to really drive the point home. His passion was enough to get Sam's attention. "The next Einstein. That's so much pressure. And what happens when someone is under that kind of pressure, is your expectations are so high that you set yourself up for a fall. You put so much weight on yourself, and then when you lost your brother and your father...it was too much. So, your brain decided to come up with a solution."

Sam didn't want to hear this right now. He sighed and focused on the wall again. 

But Dr. Calavicci continued. "You became obsessed with fixing what went wrong. That's when you began to focus on time travel. You were convinced that if you could go back, you could solve everything. Save them, change your life. But it wasn't just a solution, it was an escape. If you were traveling in time, you would never have to confront all of the problems you left behind. It was easier to be leaping than to live in reality." His chair creaked. His eyebrows lifted up sadly. "But someday you're gonna have to face it, Sam. Trauma doesn't go away just because you will it to. There is no quick fix. You just have to live it." 

The revelation was so profound, Sam was ready to collapse in on himself. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts from the ceiling. Imagined Ziggy up there. Then closed his eyes fearfully. "Al...you know what really scares me?" 

"What?" 

"You're right." Sam's mind was elsewhere as he focused on the floor next, reliving the past with the photographic memory he wished he didn't have. He shook his head with exasperation. "I don't know if this is some other dimension, or timeline, or if I really am crazy...but you're right. I did use leaping to escape my problems." He half-laughed, leaning back against the wall. "When I leaped back, I--I thought it would be easier, somehow? That now that I was home, I would be okay. And I was happy...I think. When I let myself. But there were days...when I'd see my reflection--my own reflection...and I realized I was the last person I wanted to be." 

He'd felt like such a failure. Like he'd let everyone down. He had everything he ever wanted, or thought that he had, but still he wasn't whole. How could he throw this gift back in their faces? He wondered if that had been why he was so anxious to return to leaping. That it wasn't Al, but his own selfish wants. 

So there it was. His fears said aloud, to perhaps a figment of his imagination. Real or not, he met the doctor's eyes with renewed focus. "So make me a trapeze artist, or a magician, or, god, even a chimpanzee again--anyone but Sam Beckett," he begged, hating how his voice shook with self-reproach. He sat up, wishing the jacket wasn't so tight. "But now, no matter which universe I appear in, I'm always me. Even if I'm different, it's me. And I can't get away." 

He'd patched himself together, but that didn't get rid of the cracks. He could hear St. John's taunts echoing within, telling him just how broken he was. The part that felt most foolish wasn't that his fears had been realized, but that a large part of him had believed he'd gotten better. 

"Listen to me." The doctor Al looked like his friend again, a knowing grin subtly etching his features. "The thing you have to realize is that you were never not Sam Beckett. Even in your fantasies, you've always been him, and you've always survived. Right?" 

A beat. "...right." 

"If you could survive leaping through time, you can survive anything. You don't have to be strong. You just have to be here." 

It wasn't any easier on the leaps, was it? But the point was, he hadn't given up, even when he was afraid. He kept his promise, and he jumped into that Accelerator because he knew he could do it. More than anything, he wanted to help people again. And he had. He'd helped the greatest friend he'd ever know. He'd taken that leap, not any less terrified than before, even knowing the journey could mean imminent death. It's why he was in this hospital. Not because he'd been scared, but despite it. And that was why he was brave.

He was here. That was enough. 

"You're a great guy, Sam...and I think it's worth leaping into your own skin for awhile." 

Yes, Sam realized. It was. 

Daddy?

He was in a child's bedroom...make that two children. His son and his daughter stared up at him, tucked into their respective beds. His hand was reaching out, just short of the light switch. "Yes?" 

"Can you leave the light on?" the boy asked. 

The girl rolled her eyes. "He thinks we're babies." 

"But there's monsters under the bed..." 

Sam pursed his lips. Lowering his hand, he slowly stepped closer. "There aren't any monsters under the bed," he said gently, kneeling down between them, "But it's okay to be scared. Even adults gets scared." 

The girls eyes were wide. "You're never scared, Daddy." 

"Sure I am." 

"About what?" 

Sam thought on it a moment. "Well...sometimes I think there are monsters under my bed too. Even if I know they aren't there."

The boy frowned. "You do?" 

"Yeah. I do."

"Then how do you get rid of the monsters?" 

A pause. "I keep the light on...until I'm ready to sleep in the dark again." 

The boy cast his eyes downward, ashamed. "I'll never be ready..." 

Sam leaned in closely, squeezing his son's hand tight. With a grin, "You will. Trust me." 

Some days, he slept in the dark and he slept soundly. And no matter what, those monsters never got him. 

His children believed him. Sam kissed them both on the forehead, reluctantly returning to the doorway. If he only had this world for moments...he wanted to enjoy the time he had. For now, they were his and they were wonderful. "Good night..." 

"Love you, Daddy."

"Yeah. Love you." 

Sam blinked back happy tears. "I love you too..." 

Leaving the light on, he shut the door. Soft hands wrapped around him from behind, embracing him in warmth. He knew it was her. He could smell her hair, hear her contented sigh. 

"I love you too, Sam." 

Sam closed his eyes, sinking into her. Remembering the quiet moments when they'd first fallen in love. Dark nights and a sky full of stars. Her touch when he'd leaped back and for a brief moment in time, they belonged to each other again. 

I'm sorry, Sam.

Outside the restaurant, as if the conversation had been put on pause. Donna was still watching him with guilty eyes, seeking forgiveness. 

Sam shook his head. "There's nothing to apologize for."  

"You know that's not true."

Sam sighed, taking a few steps closer. Then he clasped her hands in his own. "Donna...you're on a different path than me, and that's okay. I'm giving you permission to let go of the past." He squeezed her hands tightly. They were soft, delicate. "All I want is for you to be happy." 

They were the same in so many ways, both curious about why people did what they did. What could have been and might still be. Donna had spent so long holding onto what happened, wondering about the man she hadn't seen in well over a decade...and in this instant of kindness it all fell off of her shoulders. 

With gratitude, Donna hugged him and sobbed with joy. "Sam Beckett...you were always too good to be true." 

They pulled apart. "I mean it, Donna. You're stronger than you think." 

For a long moment, they simply stood there, knowing they'd soon part again. But not unhappily. 

Donna was the one who broke first. With a laugh, "Um...I have to go."

Sam nodded. This Donna was on a different road, one he wasn't going to keep her from. She had her own mission. And he gave himself permission to let her go too. 

"Thank you."

And she was gone. The night air was still. The stars never left.

"Are you going to be okay, Dad?" It was Sammy Jo. She warily approached, arms crossed. 

Sam's chin crinkled with a smile. Without any hesitation, he wrapped one arm around her with affection. "Yeah. I will be." 

Sam hadn't known what a gift this was until now. To see where his life could have gone, to live like he almost did. And to take his mistakes and find room for kindness. Yes, he was always him and he'd always survived. He'd survive this. The love in his heart could never be snuffed out. 

Music. His fingers glided deftly over the piano keys, the music washing over him and making the crowd fade away. His big brother, always looking out for him. He thanked him for all he'd done. Tina and Gooshie, playing checkers in the rec room. Sam joined them. He knew their game now but he knew what lay beneath their surfaces. Same as he knew that the doctor Al wanted what was best for him. Not his enemy, but his staunch supporter. Like every Al. 

"I guess you didn't find what you were looking for." 

They were outside of the Project, parked in the desert. Sam leaned against the car as Al stood nearby, hands balled in his pockets. He was wary of Sam's disappointment, unsure of anything he had said in what was once their Control Room. He'd been so heartbroken. 

But not now. 

"No, Al," Sam said happily, "I did." 

Al hitched a confused eyebrow. "Oh?" 

"Yeah..." Sighing, Sam hugged himself thoughtfully and didn't elaborate. "You know what's funny? You're the same in every world." 

Al still didn't know what Sam was talking about, but he listened with curiosity. It seemed like deep down, he knew what Sam meant anyway. 

"I mean, you're a little different, but...you're always the one person I can count on. No matter what, you're always there for me." 

How lucky he was. 

Silence. Al absorbed it, decided he didn't need to know, and shrugged a single shoulder. "You believed in me first." 

They smiled, savoring the moment. Content in the fact that time and distance hadn't pulled them apart. 

You'll never get out, Samuel...

"...so you might as well stop trying." 

This world, Sam couldn't find any kindness in. Red walls encircled him, a smothering oppression. A cold slab. The Holding Chamber. St. John was taunting him, smug and condescending. This Sam had committed some sort of offense he was to be punished for. 

"You just have to accept that you're mine forever." 

No kindness, but...a sliver of light. Shocking, but Sam didn't feel quite so paralyzed, so completely shattered. 

It was almost like freedom. He began to laugh softly.  

This didn't amuse Edward St. John the Fifth in the slightest. "Is something funny, Samuel?" 

It took a second for Sam to recover enough to speak. "Yeah..." he breathed, staring at the ceiling in thought, "It's just...I had to come all this way to find out." 

"Find out what?" 

Sam turned to face him, defiant and joyous. "That you don't own me anymore." 

CLICK.

The sound echoed through the room, startling Sam. A door unlocking. But no door like that existed in this place. Sam's head whipped to the right, coming upon the source of the sound. 

An old-fashioned wooden door stood in the middle of the room. 

Sam furrowed his brows, confused. He looked back toward St. John, but he was gone. The room was empty. 

He felt like he should be scared again, but as he slowly sat up, he realized he wasn't. The door radiated an inviting energy, an aura that said he was safe. His feet hit the ground and he padded closer. Go inside. 

He turned the knob. The light nearly blinded him, but he strode inside with courage.

-------

And found himself entering a bar. Not in his time. Perhaps the 50s? No, it wasn't from any year, Sam realized...somehow. But it held a strange, perplexing familiarity. A hum in the air. A song he recognized but didn't know the lyrics. A surreal feeling echoed from the walls, but he wasn't scared. This was a good place. 

How did he know that? 

It was empty save for Sam and a heavyset bartender with a mustache. The man greeted him with a friendly grin. "Hello, Sam." 

For some reason, the fact this man knew him wasn't a surprise. In fact, Sam felt he knew this man and he knew this bar. How, he wasn't sure. Still lost, he inched toward the bar with interest. "I've been here before...haven't I?" 

The Bartender shrugged. "In another life, perhaps." 

Somewhere, sometime. Sam couldn't place it, but he accepted it without question. He knew this man, whoever he was. "But...why am I here?" 

The Bartender picked up a glass, wiping it down in thought. As if this was just another day of work. "Well, Sam, simply put...things really went ca-ca this time." 

The words were an echo, of Al, of another life. This man, or something that looked like a man, somehow knew everything. But only God knew everything. 

Sam's jaw fell slack. The Bartender chuckled. "I'm not who you think I am."

"Who do I think you are?" 

"The thing is, the system isn't perfect," the man continued, setting the glass down and retrieving another, "Mistakes slip through the cracks. You should know. You've spent seven years fixing them."

"...the leaps," Sam finished, "What once went wrong." 

"Exactly. One could say you're almost a saint." There was a twinkle in his eye when he said "saint." A private joke. 

But Sam shook his head. "I'm not a saint."

"No. But you've helped a lot of people...and suffered many hardships because of it." The Bartender stopped cleaning, for the first time dropping his subtle grin. "Quite enough, don't you think?" 

Sam didn't know how to respond to this. He couldn't figure out where this was going. 

But the Bartender didn't leave him hanging long. "So, Sam, you have a choice now." 

"A choice?" 

"To put right what was done wrong to you." 

His wrong? 

"I...I don't understand." 

"You've opened a lot of different doors, Sam," the Bartender said, nodding toward the one he'd just entered from, "Now you get to choose one. Whichever life you want, once you go outside, it's yours." 

As Sam tried to determine just what was being offered, it seemed too good to be true. It couldn't be real. Maybe he was still in that hospital. But...he didn't think so. He felt safe here. "Any life I want?" 

"Anything that can happen, has happened. You could be any version of you that you want to be, without any of the baggage that holds you down."

Sam squinted, unsure. "You mean...I wouldn't remember my old life?" 

The Bartender shook his head. "It would be as if it never happened."

A world where he could sleep peacefully again. Could have Donna and Sammy Jo and Tom and Al. He'd never know what it was like to be tortured, never have experienced the worst moments of his life. It would be paradise. And he'd earned it, hadn't he? No one could say he hadn't put his entire soul into this. 

But he wouldn't be him. Not really. Because every hardship, every triumph, every tiny decision...it all shaped who he was, just the same as these worlds shaped the other Sams. And he wasn't quite ready to give that up. 

His life was more than the hardships he'd endured. It was the people he'd helped, the ones he loved...and the person he'd become. And now, he realized he wanted to be Sam Beckett. 

Resolved, Sam addressed the waiting Bartender. "I know what life I want."

The Bartender gestured broadly toward the door. "You know where to go, Sam." 

Yes, he did. With a confident stride, he approached the door...but he stopped. With one last look back, he saw the Bartender give an encouraging nod. With a grateful smile, Sam exited the bar and into the light.

-------

Sam strode into a small coffee shop. As his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings, the smell of coffee beans permeating his senses, he eagerly looked around him to find the one person he was searching for. And when he found him, he couldn't hide the wide smile from his face.

Al was seated across the room at a booth by himself, resting his chin on his hand as he stirred his coffee. His gaze was focused on the drink, a combination of depression and boredom. He still had the cast on. 

That's how Sam knew he was the one. He approached confidently, happiness in every step. He was here. 

"Is this seat taken?" 

"Uh, well--" Al glanced up. As soon as he saw Sam, his eyes became huge. His spoon clinked loudly against his mug as he shot up out of his seat. "Sam?!" 

"Hey, Al." 

Al looked him up and down, uncertain, as he edged his way closer. "Are you...?" 

"Am I solid?" Sam asked lightly, bouncing on his heels. Then, to confirm for both of them, he reached out and honked Al's nose. His friend jumped with surprise. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure." 

Once again, Al was wrapping Sam up in a tight hug. Sam held him close, thrilled that at last he had his real friend back. He'd spent too much time not being able to touch him. He'd missed him with all his heart. 

Al pulled back, still in shock. "The Project, they managed to get you back?" 

Sam frowned. "I don't know...did they?" 

"They sure as hell have been trying." 

Sam's grin widened. "They got back in contact with you?"

"Yeah," Al answered with a nod, "Not long after I leaped out. We've been dealing with things here, but they've had quite a mess to sort through."

Sam scrutinized him closely. "Does that mean Ziggy...?" 

"She's back where she belongs, thank god," Al sighed with relief, "As much fun as she was to have for company, it's nice to have my brain back to myself." They both chuckled. Sam imagined Ziggy was happy to be back at the Project. "But listen, who cares about me? Sam...we thought you might be gone. What happened?" 

Sam knit his brows, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, heh...it's kind of a long story." 

Al's eyelids lowered. "So? I've been stuck on the world's most boring leap in Cleveland. I got the time." 

Sam laughed. He wasn't in much of a hurry either. He was happy just to be here. "Tell you what, Al," he said, "You talk, and I'll listen for awhile. I want to hear about this leap first." 

A pause. "Really?" 

"Yeah." 

With pleasant surprise and a hint of curious confusion, Al gestured to the booth. He and Sam slid down across from each other, feeling high from the adrenaline but content to simply sit still and be with each other in the moment. 

"Well..." Al started, grasping his mug in both hands, "First of all, I leaped here two weeks ago." 

"Two weeks?" 

"Two weeks, Sam," Al emphasized, "and let me tell you, it's felt longer. You ever heard of Greg Haddon?" 

"Mm, no." 

"Okay, so he's my half-brother. Er--not my half-brother, but the guy I leaped into. Some local politician. And he married..."

As Al continued, Sam listened with great interest. A new confidence in his heart, the greatest person he'd ever known at his side. He wouldn't have it any other way. 

-------

Al had been through the ringer lately, and he knew Sam had been through much worse. With crazy cowboy leaps, body-sharing with Ziggy, and spending a nail-biting two weeks not knowing whether his best friend was alive or dead, he was ready for them to catch a break. Maybe one of those song and dance leaps that used to be a dime a dozen. But right now, he'd take anything so long as it wasn't scary or dull or, preferably, included something sexy. Was that so much to ask? 

What he leaped into was a low-buttoned shirt, leisure suit, and a tacky gold medallion. He looked down at himself. Circular lights were dancing over him as loud music played. "Disco..." he said happily. He looked up. Sam was standing at a partition in front of him in a tight t-shirt and tiny shorts, adjusting to his new surroundings. "Hey, Sam! It's disco! Isn't that great?" 

Sam began to smile at Al's excitement. "Yea--" But before he could finish, someone suddenly ran into him. Only now realizing he was in roller skates, he yelped in surprise and sprawled out instantly on the floor. 

"Oh! Sorry!" The tiny Vietnamese girl sat up, looking worried. 

Al leaned over the partition. "Hey, you okay?" Sam gave a thumbs up. Satisfied he wasn't hurt, Al began to take in the familiar 70s surroundings with awe. "Oh boy..." 

Looks like they were getting one of those song and dance leaps after all!