THE WORST OF TIMES, THE BEAST OF TIMES

by A.N.D.

A Quantum Leap/BatB (season 2) story

Note: This story was originally published in CrosSignals #3, whichcame out in July of 1990. I recommend it if you can find an issue -in addition to this one, it also had "Well Met in the Middle"(Equalizer/BatB by Sharon Palmer), "Enemies in High Places"(Equalizer/BatB by L.C. Wells), and "Chivalry's Not Dead, It's JustPassed Out Under the Table" (Star Trek, BatB by CatherineEdwards).

Energy swirled around Sam, and he felt reality slipping away asthe erratic Quantum Leap project once again took hold. He had justenough time to wonder where and when - and who! - he would be thistime when, with a wrench, he arrived.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust; wherever he was was darkand lit only by sparse candles. Sam could smell leather and must andwater, and he heard an irregular metallic banging in thedistance.

And he could definitely feel the body heat of the woman he washolding tight in his arms.

Startled, Sam let go and practically jumped backwards. "I, uh,I..."

The woman barely came up to the chin of the body he was nowpossessing. She was quite pretty, Sam thought appreciatively, withsoft honey-brown hair swept to one side and solemn green eyes. Thoseeyes met his and Sam's heart all but stopped, afraid he was about tobe taken to task for leaping away from her like a scalded cat.

Fortunately, she seemed to be sued to that sort of thing, becauseall she said was, "It's been lovely, Vincent. I'll come meet youtomorrow night for the concert."

"Conthert," Sam echoed blankly. "Oh, yeth the conth-concert." Itsome concentration for him to manage his pronunciation; somethingseemed to be getting in the way of his tongue.

"I can't think of anything I'd like more than sharing moonlightand Mozart in the park with you, Vincent," she said with a sultrylook. Then she turned and disappeared in the darkness beyond thedoor.

The moment she was gone, Sam began frantically patting hisclothes, looking for a pocket with some ID. He found plenty ofpockets, full of assorted trinkets - some string, a tea bag, a slimedition of Shakespearean sonnets, a box of matches, a homemadeslingshot - but no wallet. No ID of any kind.

Frustrated, Sam turned to the clutter around him, looking for amirror. The most amazing stuff was heaped all around the cave-likeroom, illuminated by the candles and the light from a stained glasswindow. There were books, candles set in every possible sort ofholder, books, a juke box of the sort used in roadside diners,candles, more books, a chest full of old toys, books, severalclassical statues, more candles, even more books, assortedknickknacks including a carved elephant and a toy carousel, severalextra candles, and, for a change of decor, some books.

But no mirror. No reflecting surface of any kind.

"Sam?" The voice of Al, Sam's holographic partner, cametentatively out of the gloom behind him. Sam turned eagerly to it,hoping that Al could use his link to the project supercomputer totell him what was going on.

"Sam? Are you - AAAAHHHHH!!!" Al, who had been standing half inand half out of what looked like a cushion-covered bed, suddenlybolted backwards, disappearing almost entirely into a statute ofJustice. Sam whirled, trying to see what had frightened his friend.What could hurt a hologram? Al's real body was safe in the waitingroom of the Project. Sam stared wildly indo the darkness. There wasnothing there, and just as he was beginning to worry that themysterious threat was in the future with Al, he again heard thefamiliar voice calling hesitantly behind him.

"Sam?"

"Al! Are you all right?" Sam strode over to where Al was peekingout of the masonry, but as he reached out, Al flinched and lookedaway.

"Al? What'th wrong?"

"You are!" Al gestured in his general direction with a cigar butt,still refusing to look at him. "Sam, you won't believe where youended up this leap. Jeeze, and he seemed like such a regular guy inthe waiting room."

"Al, tell me what ith going on!" Sam stopped, frustrated. "Al, youcan see me. Ith thith guy bucktoothed or thomthing? I'm having alittle trouble talking."

"Or something," Al said, grimly. He glanced around the clutterwhile carefully avoiding facing Sam. After a second, he pointed to acolonial style pitcher and basin. "Pour some water in there and takea look at yourself."

Sam poured and looked. He looked at the long, tangled hair; thefurry, slanted eyebrows reaching down his nose; the muzzle-like upperlip; and the huge fangs exposed as his jaw dropped in shock.

"Oh, boy," Sam whimpered. "Al, what AM I?"

"Beats me," was the reply. "But now I know why he was moreinterested in looking at your body than the Waiting RoomdÈcor. Usually the people you leap into are so curious aboutwhere they are that they don't realize that they're stuck in yourbody as well. He knew right off."

"Where is this place? Who is this guy - wait a minute, I AM a guy,right?" Considering what else he'd seen, he was afraid to look.

"I certainly hope so, 'cause the only thing worse than a guy wholooks like that is a girl who looks like that."

Al diddled with his commlink to Ziggy, but even after he gave itseveral sideways smacks that made it squeal like a disappointed videogame, he didn't seem to find any illumination in its blinking lights."I can't find anything," he reported, worried. "There doesn't seem tobe any record of what this place is or where it is or anything. It'sSeptember 7, 1988, but that's all I can tell you."

"That's all?" Sam wailed.

"That's all," Al repeated unhappily. "Hang on, Sam. I'm gonna gotalk to the guy in your body and see if he can tell us anything." Hepunched a few buttons on the interface and Sam heard the ImagingChamber door *shoop* open.

"Waitaminute Al, don't leave me..."

*SHOOP*

"...alone," Sam concluded miserably.

Uneven footsteps could be heard approaching the doorway of thechamber, and Sam suddenly wondered if being alone was such a bad ideaafter all. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any back exit, sohe stood his ground and hoped that whoever it was wouldn't react asbadly to him as he had to himself.

A bearded older man, dressed in an assortment of worn clothes evenless related to each other than Al's usual choices, limped into theroom with a cane made out of what looked to be an unadulterated treebranch.

"Ah, Vincent," the newcomer said. "Catherine has left?"

Sam nodded mutely and the man came over and patted him consolinglyon the shoulder. "I thought perhaps I could interest you in littlegame of chess now that you're free, hmmm?"

That seemed safe enough, and Sam nodded again, wondering if chessplaying was one of the talents he had forgotten he possessed. Thestress of leaping from life to life had swiss-cheesed his brain (asAl so bluntly kept reminding him) and Sam found the frustration ofpartial amnesia almost as bad as the frustration of having to adjustto a completely new existance about every three days. //It would benice to have a vacation once in a while// Sam silently told thepowers-that-be as he tamely followed the other man out into acorridor.

He heard the sounds of other people moving ahead in the gloom andshrank back into the shadows, afraid to let them see what he hadbecome. A young woman leading a toddler appeared out of the darknessand Sam froze in panic. But she only smiled in greeting at both ofthem, and the toddler tugged on Sam's pants and laughed. Sam laughedback, and startled himself with the rough purring sound he made. Buthe seemed to be the only one discommoded by his appearance; his guidetrundled along quietly and the young woman swung the child up in herarms with a last chuckle and vanished once more into the murk.

The old man ushered Sam into a huge cave with a few chairs andtables and even more books and candles than they had left behind. Sampicked his way down the stairs leading to the main floor and franklystared at the room around him.

"This place..." he whispered.

The other man came to stand beside him, looking with satisfactionand perhaps a touch of pride at the jumbled treasures scattered allaround. "Sometimes I just can't believe it myself, Vincent," he saidproudly. "When I think of how little we started with, how much we'vebuilt together through the years... it's a place to be very proudof."

//It's a place to be cleaned// Sam thought privately, looking atthe profusion of things piled every which way on every surface, ontop of, underneath of, and surrounded by what seemed to be every bookin the world. There were books lining the stairs, books piled on thelanding, books in every conceivable place and a few inconceivableones. Still, it wouldn't do to be rude about what would be his homeuntil the next leap.

"I've put a great deal of effort into creating a haven here Below,a safe place for those who want to withdraw from the insanity andviolence of the world Above," his companion continued as he broughtout a mismatched set of chess pieces.

//Above?// Sam thought, startled. Was that why this place seemedso cave-like? Because it WAS a cave? Maybe that's why Ziggy couldn'tfind any records!

"A safe place for YOU, Vincent. Do you remember what happened whenyou were captured last year? I was so afraid for you, afraid I'dnever see you again..."

"But I'm here and I'm safe," Sam replied, hoping he was tellingthe truth.

The man leaned over and surprised Sam by putting an arm around hisshoulders and kissing him on the brow. "I know, Vincent. But I can'thelp but worry. I don't know how we would survive if anythinghappened to you, my son."

//SON??!!//

"I can see a real family resemblance." Al's sardonic voice cut in,startling Sam almost out of his furry skin. "You must have takenafter your mother."

"Al!" Sam hissed involuntarily.

"Vincent?" his temporal companion asked.

"Al, uh, I'll be careful," Sam stammered. "I don't want to hurtanyone, least of all, you... Poppa."

"I beg your pardon?" his apparent parent snapped, nailing Sam withpiercing blue eyes.

Sam suddenly felt like a seven-year-old who was about to be calledon the carpet. His mind raced. It all seemed to be going so well,what did he say wrong? Wait, he'd slipped and treated this man likehis own father. This one seemed a little more formal. Maybe if hetried... "Uh, I mean Father."

Sam smiled uncertainly across the chessboard and was relieved whenVincent's father simply said gruffly, "That's better" and returned tothe game.

"Sam, we need to talk," Al warned.

"Father?"

The older man looked up.

"Er... I'm feeling a bit tired. Perhaps we could play chesstomorrow?"

Although obviously disappointed, he was gracious. "Of course,Vincent, if that's what you want. Good night."

Sam nodded and rose, uncomfortably aware of the wary gaze on hisretreating back. Once out of earshot in the safety of the corridor,Sam turned to Al for an explanation, but before he could do more thanopen his mouth, they were interrupted by a child's voice.

"Vincent?"

A small boy, about ten or twelve years old, shifted uncertainlyfrom foot to foot slightly higher up the corridor. "Vincent? Can Ihave my slingshot back, please?" he pleaded.

"You - I mean he - took a toy away from a little kid?" Alprotested. "That dirty dog!" He took another look. "Orsomething."

"I promise I'll be careful," the boy continued, oblivious. "Ialready apologized to Mary about breaking her window."

"Oh," Al said.

"And for hitting Arthur."

"It sounds like you've managed to do enough damage with thatslingshot," Sam said.

The boy nodded and looked ashamed. "Are you gonna tellFather?"

Sam thought about it for a moment and decided on lenience. Therewas an incident with a slingshot back in his own youth on the farm..."Not if you help Mary fix her window and you apologize to Arthur anddo something nice for him."

The little boy considered the terms for a fraction of a second."How can you be nice to a raccoon?" he asked.

Sam wondered that himself. He also wondered how a raccoon hadwandered into the conversation. Al simply started snickering.

"Find him a treat to eat or something," Sam suggested.

The boy broke out in a big grin. "Okay!" he chirped.

"But I'm keeping the slingshot," Sam added and the boy's facefell.

"Okay," he repeated, this time unhappily, before slouchingoff.

"Arthur's a raccoon?" Sam asked when he though it was safe.

"Uh, yeah, the real Vincent told me about that, but I didn't havea chance to warn you."

"That must have been an interesting conversation," Sam grumbled,heading back to the privacy of Vincent's room. "What else have youfound out?"

"Well, since Ziggy had no information on this place, I decided totalk to the guy in the Waiting Room and see if he could tell meanything. First of all, you're living in the abandoned subway tunnelsbeneath New York City."

"That guy who called me 'son' said that he'd created a safe placedown here. He talked about it like it was a completely separateworld."

"Yeah, well, 'that guy' is Jacob Wells and Ziggy did have a recordon him." Al pulled out his portable link-up and began alternatelypushing buttons and slapping it into submission. "He was a doctorworking for a nuclear research institute in the 1950s and he didn'tlike the direction the research took. He became a no-nuke protestorback before that was the popular thing to do and he got hauled upbefore the House Un-American Activities Committee, which stripped himof everything. His wife divorced him, he lost his medical license,and then he simply disappeared. He wasn't heard from in over thirtyyears. Then in 1987 he suddenly reappeared, only to be arrested forthe murder of the lawyer who'd defended him before the House."

"He's a murderer?"

"Nah. He was acquitted because of evidence brought in by a DA'sassistant named Catherine Chandler."

"The woman with me when I leaped in was named Catherine."

"Same one."

"What have you got on her?"

"She's a wealthy socialite, daughter of a prominent corporatelawyer. About a year ago, she got mugged coming home from a partyand... YUCK!" Al flinched back from the display.

"What?"

"They cut her up real bad, Sam. She was missing for days, then shesuddenly walked out of her own apartment with her face all stitchedup and wouldn't say what happened. Soon after that, she dropped herjob in her Daddy's firm and joined the DA's office."

"What happened to the people who attacked her?"

"Their bodies were found at a brownstone, near the body of thewoman they were originally hired to get. They'd been ripped apartlimb from limb."

"What could do that?" Sam asked, horrified.

"Look at your hands, Sam," Al said, very quietly and verygently.

Sam did and his blood ran cold. He had big, muscular hands withtufts of blonde fur running down each finger to sharp, viciousclaws.

"I think you did it, Sam," Al said softly.

"Oh, my God!" Sam whispered. "I'm a homicidal monster!"

"I don't think so," Al reassured him. "The guy in the Waiting Roomwas able to fill in a lot of Ziggy's blanks. He's the one who foundCatherine after her body'd been dumped in Central Park. It was theold man back there who stitched her up and saved her life."

"But to rip somebody apart..."

"They'd just killed another witness and they were coming afterCatherine. Vincent was coming to her rescue. He loves her, Sam. Hewas just protecting her."

"Judging from the look she gave me earlier, I'd say she loves himas well."

"Apparently. But 'Daddy' back there doesn't approve. He's afraidshe'll lead Vincent into one too many dangerous situations or she'llfind a regular guy and break his heart."

"Somehow I don't think so."

"Anyway, I explained to Vincent how Quantum Leaping works - thathe can't get back here where he belongs until you find out what'sabout to go wrong and fix it. I asked him if he knew anyone who mightbe about to get into trouble that he wouldn't be able to help."

"Did he think of anything?"

"Well, he's worried sick that something will happen to hisgirlfriend, but judging from the record, she can take care of herselfand he can take care of anything that's left. No, the only thing hecould think of was that a friend of his named Mouse would getarrested for stealing. Apparently this guy doesn't have too good agrip on the concept of private property. He's the one with theraccoon, by the way."

"Arthur?"

"No, Mouse."

"Let me get this straight," Sam said helplessly. "There's a mannamed after a rodent who has a pet rodent named after a man?"

Al shrugged. "Hey, I just pass it on, I don't make it up."

"So what do I do now?"

"I suggest you sleep on it," Al said wryly. "Do you know what timeit is?"

***

Sam didn't have a very restful night. He snuffed the candles, butthe stained glass was right over the bed, and it gently glowed allnight. Furthermore, the pipes never stopped banging, and every 15minutes or so his bed shook from what he guessed was the roar of thesubway. By the time Al appeared the next morning, Sam was definitelynot a happy camper.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Al caroled, appearing through thestained glass. The window was in soothing shades of green and gold,which clashed horribly with the enthusiastically vibrant shades ofthe orange and silver pinstripe suit Al had chosen that day. Sampeeked, groaned, and rolled over.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Al coaxed, walking through the bed - andSam. "You've always been a morning person."

"Not when I've had to listen to rattling plumbing all night," Sammoaned into the pillow. "Does that noise ever stop?"

"Vincent says that's the way they communicate down here."

Sam groaned again and burrowed beneath the blankets. "You werenever a morning person," he complained in muffled tones. "How comeyou're so cheerful?"

"Well, I spent some of the evening talking to Vincent, whosefavorite topic of conversation happens to be Catherine. He kept usingall this flowery speech about her - 'she's my life, she's the lightin my darkness' that sort of stuff - and when I got home, I triedtalking like that to Tina. Sam, I practically had to club her off!She just melted into a puddle and..."

"Spare me the gruesome details," the lump of blankets pleaded.

"I tell you, Sam, I think I've found the one best way to getwomen. Give 'em flowers, quote 'em a little poetry, and bingo!They're all over you like a cheap suit."

"Al," Sam said, digging his way back to the light, "Has anyoneever told you that you have the morals of a mink?"

"You have," Al said, puffing placidly on his ever-present cigar."All the time, in fact."

Vincent's closet proved to be as eclectic as the rest of thechamber, full of patched apparel that frequently bore moreresemblance to its original use than to clothing. Al perused thepossibilities by walking sideways through the wardrobe and offeringhis help in choosing, but Sam, all too familiar with Al's clothingsense (or lack thereof) forestalled him by putting on the firstthings that came to hand. It occasionally took both of them to figureout the lacings and fasteners, but Sam was soon warmly dressed andready to face the day.

Sam rapidly found out two things about Vincent. First, he had areputation as a rambler, which Sam hid behind several times to avoidexplaining that he was in some little-used, dead-end tunnel orprivate chamber because he was completely lost. Al tried to help,walking through walls and telling Sam what was on the other side, buton the whole, Sam felt like a mouse in a maze. Al's constantlycracking habi-trail jokes didn't help either.

Second, Vincent seemed to have a social schedule even moregrueling than that of the single working mother Sam had once been.Someone wanted his help carving tunnels, someone else asked him tohelp teach a class, and someone very small indeed asked him to read astory out loud. Sam expected people to be afraid of the creature he'dbecome, but now, seeing the trust and acceptance freely given byeveryone he met, he became almost envious of Al's being able toactually meet the man whose body Sam had usurped. The person he'dseen looking back from the water was not the sort of being he'dexpect to become the pillar of any community.

But the one person Sam most wanted to meet remained elusive. Mousewas simply not to be found, and by mid-afternoon, Sam was starting towonder if he existed at all.

"Al?" he asked quietly during one of the few times no one wasdemanding his attention. "Are you sure it's Mouse I'm here tohelp?"

"He's the only lead we've got."

"But think a minute, Al. In all my other leaps, every single one,I met the person I was supposed to help within about five minutes ofleaping in. It's like He," Sam gestured to the ceiling and the deityhe believed was now running the Project, "wants me to know who I needto worry about right away."

"Are you sure?" Al asked, unconvinced. "I mean, there's always afirst time."

"I'm sure," Sam replied, getting more and more convinced as hethought about it. "Look, it takes you a little while to center in onwhere and when I am, right? I mean, usually I don't see you until atleast 10 minutes into a leap, and sometimes a lot longer."

"Yeah, so?"

"So name me one time, one single leap where I had not seen theperson I needed to help within 10 minutes of your arrival."

"There was that German girl... well, no, she was dead, but she wasstill the first person you saw. And there was that girl dating thatpianist... no, she was the first person you met coming offstage,wasn't she? Wait, there was the guy playing Don Quixote. You didn'tsee him first when you leaped into his understudy!"

Al flourished his cigar in triumph, which proved short-lived whenSam pointed out, "Yes, but I had still met him before you arrived.Besides, I didn't say I always saw them first, I said I always sawthem soon before or after you arrive. Al, maybe we can't find thisMouse because we don't need to find him. Vincent was wrong. There'ssomething else that we have to fix."

"What? Who did you meet when you leaped in?"

"Catherine... Al, ask Ziggy if anything is going to happen to herin the next couple of days."

*punch*punch*SMACK*whine* Al shook his head over the link. "Nope.According to Ziggy, the worst thing that happens to her in the nextmonth is that her credit card at Bloomies gets overcharged. Who elsedid you meet?"

"Vincent's father, whatshisname - Dr. Wells. Anything on him?"

"Nah. He hasn't got any records at all after that murder arrestlast year. The charges were dropped when the real culprit wasfound."

"Where is he now?"

"Hang on, I'll go check." With that, Al punched a command into thepocket link, shouting, "Gushi, center me on Wells!" The unseenproject technician must have been able to get a fix, because Aldisappeared instantly.

Within moments he was back. "He's in that big library you were inlast night, surrounded by about fifteen kids, making them readDickens. Yuck."

"Not everyone learned to read from supermarket tabloids," Samcommented dryly.

Al ignored the comment. "Y'know, all those kids were calling himFather. That guy must have amazing stamina. Do you think he eatsoysters or something?"

"Don't be cruder than normal. It's more of a title, I think."

"Spoilsport. Still, there's nothing wrong with him. I think weshould keep looking for Mouse."

"No, I want you to go back and keep an eye on Wells."

"But Sam..."

"Do it."

"Okay, okay!"

With a shrug, Al punched a couple of keys and disappeared,presumably to carry out his orders. Sam turned his attention tosimply trying to find his way back without getting lost.

He couldn't do it. After three dead ends, two rockfalls, and aclose encounter with a Brooklyn-bound express, Sam was starting towonder if he was the only person around in need of divineintervention. Remembering that the pipes were the local telephonesubstitute, Sam found the noisiest conduit he could and beganfollowing it back to civilization.

He had just reached a few caverns that looked vaguely familiarwhen Al reappeared again, jumping out of the wall like a ghost from aB-grade movie and starting Sam half to death.

"Sam! You were right! You gotta come quick!"

"What happened?"

"That old guy, Wells - he's dying, Sam!"

"WHAT?"

"He's choking and they can't get it out. Come ON, Sam!"

"Show me where!" Al headed off down the corridor at a dead run,Sam pounding along behind.

The pipes exploded in a frenzy of clatters and lanks, and peoplestarted appearing in doorways, asking questions and sprinting tohelp. Al simply bolted straight through anyone in his way, but Sam,afraid of mowing down the slower runners, shouted to clear thecorridor and was amazed to hear himself roaring like a lion instead.The noise, although unexpected, proved highly efficient. Peopledisappeared as quickly as they had appeared and those ahead promptlyflattened themselves against the wall to get out of the way.

Sam and Al burst into a large cavern - a sort of mess hall, tojudge from all the tables set around. Father was lying limp in thearms of a huge man in a chef's apron who was trying to administer theHeimlich maneuver. One glance told Sam it wasn't going to work -Father wasn't breathing at all, meaning that there wasn't enough airpressure in the lungs to force the blockage back out.

"Get a doctor!" Sam shouted, skidding to a halt.

"Someone from Above won't make it in time!" the fat chef yelledback in frustration. "And you know he's the only doctor down here,Vincent!"

"No, he's not, Sam," Al corrected from the background. "You're adoctor too."

"Give him to me," Sam demanded.

"Vincent!" the chef protested.

"Give him to me! I can help!" Sam snarled - literally. Theanimal-like growl got instant results. The chef practically droppedthe body on the floor as he stepped back.

"There's no air getting in at all. I'm going to have to do atracheotomy. Somebody get me some alcohol!"

After a moment of flurry among the onlookers, the chef handed overa drinking glass full of what smelled like pretty potent moonshine.Sam sniffed at it, dubiously thinking that he wouldn't dare drink it,but he bet that the alcohol content was more than enough to sterilizea couple layers of skin right off.

"Knife," he muttered. "I need a sharp knife."

"Fingers, Sam!" Al yelled. "Use your fingernails!"

Sam froze. Rip this sweet old man's throat out with his claws? Asecond glance showed that Father's lips were turning blue and hiseyes were starting to dilate. He was fading fast. Sam couldn'tconceive of tearing into him with bare hands, but he'd damn wellbetter if he wanted to save this man's life.

Steeling his nerves, he poured the bathtub gin over his right handand sliced.

Several people screamed and children started crying. Someoneyelled, "Vincent! What are you DOING?" and tried to pull him away,but Sam lashed backwards with his free hand without looking up.Judging from the sound of the crash, whoever he'd hit had flown arespectable distance. No one approached him again.

The crowd gasped once in horror and fell silent - making Father'sfirst wheeze echo loudly in the stillness.

"He's breathing! Quick, I need a small tube to keep the airpassage open!"

He could hear fumbling and stumbling going on all around him,until someone reached over his shoulder and plucked an old fashionedpen out of Father's pocket. "Will this do?"

"Yes." Sam snatched it, awkwardly trying to disassemble it withone hand. Someone took it from him, took it apart, and poured themoonshine over and through the casing before handing it back.

Gently, Sam worked the tube into the incision he held open withthe tips of his claws. When he withdrew his hand, the flesh closedaround the pen like it was supposed to and Father, still unconscious,started breathing normally.

Al cheered and although the crowd couldn't hear him, they followedsuit. "It's working!" "He's breathing!" "Father's safe!"

Sam turned to the cook and muttered under the sound of applause"He's stable enough to be moved, but the blockage still has to comeout."

The cook nodded and turned to single a man out of the crowd."C'mon, Ezra, Let's go get a stretcher and send a message up to Dr.Alcott."

***

Sam followed behind the stretcher, fretting all the way. He foundhimself in a small cave turned into a primitive hospital, rather likea subterranean M*A*S*H unit. All the basic necessities were there,but none of the frills. Sam and the other stretcher bearers gotFather onto an operating table and prepped for surgery, but Sam'sconcern was deepening. He hadn't leaped out yet. Something was stillwrong...

They all turned at the noise of footsteps pounding up to the door,but the sound didn't herald the entrance of the expected doctor fromAbove. Instead, a young girl darted in.

"Doctor Alcott can't come!" she panted. "His office says he's awayon vacaion until next week."

"We can't leave Father like this for a week!" the chef protested."Who else can we get?"

"Dr Wong?" one of the others suggested.

"He's just a herbalist. He can't help."

//Oh, no// Sam thought. //I can't, I can't...// He took a deepbreath. "I can do it."

"Vincent, you're no doctor!" came the immediate objection. "Youdid a great job doing emergency aid back there, but you can't do anoperation!"

"Tell them you've assisted Father in surgery before," Alordered.

"I've assisted Father in surgery before," Sam obedientlyechoed.

"But you haven't done any on your own!"

"There isn't anyone else who can do it," Sam said withdetermination before Al could prompt him.

Sam didn't seriously expect that anyone would let someone likeVincent perform a delicate operation, but he had underestimatedVincent's position, or possibly his talents as well, for the othersin the room dropped their eyes and backed away.

"Do you want help?" one asked.

"No," Sam told them and they left.

"I can't believe they'd let me do this!" Sam burst out after theyleft.

"You'd better believe, Sam," Al warned. "Because you have to doit. That has to be why you're still here."

Sam looked at his hands and shuddered. "Who would let this guy dosurgery, Al? For crying out loud, he might shed in the patient!"

Al was silent for a moment and when he spoke again his voice wasuncharacteristically quiet and remote. "You once yelled at me forsaying that some of my best friends are black. It's true, but youfelt it was a racist thing to say. You've leaped into all kinds ofpeople - minorities, women, the handicapped -- and each time youfought and fought hard for equal treatment. You've always treatedother people - no matter who or what they were - like they were justas good as you, if not better. I've always respected that in you,Sam."

He stopped to let that sink in, then continued. "I've been talkingto Vincent, Sam. You wouldn't believe what he's like. He's smart.He's well read. he's got a better education than I do and he wasself-taught. Next to you he's the most patient and decent man I'veever met."

Sam was silent for a long moment, struggling to find words. Then awheeze from the table brought them both back to the pressing businessat hand.

"Can you find me surgical gloves?" Sam asked, opening drawers andpulling out instruments.

"Try the little drawer on the left."

It was a simple but delicate operation. Sam pried a bone out ofFather's throat and put disinfectant on the internal lacerations ithad made as it wedged itself. He found to his surprise that Vincent'slarge hands were very deft at putting in the tiny stitches to closethe incision. In fact, the only real hitch was to annoying sensationof off the fur being pulled the wrong way as he pulled the rubbergloves on.

Al stood on tiptoe throughout, peeking over Sam's shoulder,generally staying out of his way and quiet except for the occasional"ick" when things got bloody.

"You did it," was the only comment when Sam finally stepped backand stripped off the uncomfortable gloves. "He gonna be allright?"

"He should be fine," Sam said as he puttered around, cleaning up."It was a simple operation." When he finished, he turned and facedAl.

And waited.

And waited a bit more.

"So why haven't I leaped?" he finally asked.

"I don't know!" Al replied. "Maybe you have to go tell everyoneelse that the operation was a success."

Sam did, making a public announcement back at the crowded messhall. The crowd's relief was obvious, their applause thunderous, andSam struck a noble pose, waiting for the random energies of theproject to sweep him away.

They didn't.

Sam looked across the room to Al, who shrugged. Defeated, Samshrugged back and prepared to spend another day in the life ofVincent.

Al looked at his watch and suddenly disappeared. He reappearedwith equal suddenness next to Sam and muttered, "Your girlfriend'swaiting for you. You'd better go see her."

"Wait, didn't she say she'd be in the park? How do I get to thepark looking like this?" Sam whispered back.

"You don't. C'mon, I'll show you."

Al led Sam down a new set of tunnels and pipes until Sam could seeCatherine waiting up ahead. She was padding the floor of a drainagetunnel with blankets and pillows. Sam could hear the sounds of anorchestra warming up wafting gently in through the storm grate.

"Y'know, I used to sneak into the sewers with a couple of blanketsand Mazie Dingblatt when I was a teenager," Al started to muse, butSam shut him up by swatting through him. Offended, Al backed out ofarm's reach, but made it clear that he had every intention of being athird wheel on the date.

Catherine was putting the finishing touches on her nest when shenoticed Sam looming over her. "Vincent!" she whispered loudly,running into his arms and hugging him tight. "I was starting towonder if you'd make it."

"There was a minor problem Below," Sam hedged, not wanting toworry her.

Just then, the opening notes were struck and Catherine pulled himdown onto the pillows. She curled up against him and put her head onhis shoulder as he looped his arm around her.

The music was lovely and his companion lovelier still. Sam wouldhave enjoyed himself tremendously if Al hadn't gotten bored andstarted lobbying for a little action.

"Kiss her, Sam!" he started urging from the tunnel entrance."C'mon, give her a peck!"

Sam glared ineffectively at Al and wondered if he could think of areason for suddenly throwing a pillow through the tunnel. Evidently,his distraction caught Catherine's attention, for she suddenlyreached up and turned his face to hers.

"What's wrong, Vincent?"

"Oh, nothing, I..."

"Go for it, Sam!" urged his over-dressed, one-man Greek chorus.Overwhelmed by the music and Catherine's obvious feelings, hedid.

The instant their lips touched, Sam felt the leap begin. Alcheerfully waved goodbye with his cigar as the universe once againturned a blinding blue and the quantum energy pulled Sam off into thevoid.

***

When the leap dissipated, Sam found himself sitting in a darkroom, looking at a compact disk player, which was telling him"Remember, if you or any member of your IM force is captured orkilled, the Secretary will disavow all knowledge of your actions.Good luck, Jim. This disk will self-destruct in five seconds."

The lid snapped shut and the box started to smoke.

"Oh, boy," Sam whimpered.

-fin-