A Novel Solution
by Julie L. Jekel


Disclaimer: Only in my wildest dreams do I own these guys. In reality,
they belong to Universal Television, Bellisarius Productions and Don
Bellisario (Sam, Al, and the folk at PQL) and Pet Fly Productions and
UPN (everyone else). 
Category: Xover with Quantum Leap, sorta MS (more like rewritten
scenes *g*) for TSbyBS. Oh, and a little smarm, much to my own
surprise. *g* 

Spoilers: Quantum Leap--"MIA," "The Leap Back," "Killin' Time," and
"Mirror Image"; The Sentinel--"The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg" 

Archive: Please! To GP and CL. I'll be updating my website with it
ASAP. :) 

Acknowledgments: To my three wonderful and patient beta-readers,
Kimberly (kimberlyfdr@hotmail.com), Connie
(spacecatdet@sprintmail.com), and Cynthia (wolf_guardian@hotmail.com).
And to Becky's wonderful episode transcripts, from which major chunks
of dialogue were lifted. *g* 

Note: Thoughts are marked with // and memories with (). 

Summary: Sam Beckett Leaps into Blair during the events of "The
Sentinel by Blair Sandburg." His mission--to find a better solution to
the problem of the dissertation. 
  

"A Novel Solution" 
a Quantum Leap/The Sentinel crossover 
by Julie L. Jekel 
  

***Prologue*** 

>>Project Quantum Leap 
>>June 8, 2000 

White...cold...sterile... 

These words gradually filtered into his disoriented brain as he
struggled to absorb his surroundings. 

He was in a large room, almost totally barren of furniture except for
a narrow metal table or cot--he wasn't quite sure which it was. The
walls were a sleek, gleaming metal, impervious to any sound or smell
that might try to penetrate them. The entire ceiling glowed with light
from an indeterminable source. Bright light. Cool light. Soft light,
minimizing the shadows around him. There was only one door into the
room, a metal panel that seemed to lack both hinges and doorknob,
making escape impossible. 

//Escape...// 

As awareness slowly increased, he studied himself. He was barefoot,
clad only in a skin-tight white jumpsuit that covered him from ankles
to wrists to chin. The fabric seemed to glow in the steady,
unflickering light from above. 

White...cold...sterile... 

The silent mantra in his brain repeated again. Like a hospital. Or a
prison. Or a lab. 

//Oh God...// 

Even as his comprehension of his present circumstances increased, with
it came the terrifying awareness that his past was riddled with holes.
He couldn't remember his mother's name, or her face. He couldn't
remember where he lived, or what he had gotten for his last birthday.
He couldn't even remember when his birthday was. Most terrifying of
all, he couldn't remember how he'd come to this place or where he'd
been before he woke up here. 

One thing he did remember though. He remembered that there was a man
he was supposed to protect and support. 

And he knew, if he was in a prison or a lab, that he had failed that
man. His brother. His friend. His partner. 

"Oh, God, Jim," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" 

***** 

Admiral Al Calavicci took a deep breath as he stood outside the door
of the Waiting Room. It was something he did every time, a sort of
routine that was the only thing besides his military training that
kept him from crying every time the door slid open to reveal a face
other than Sam Beckett's. 

//Well, at least I see them now,// he admitted silently. //Those first
Leaps...the false hope almost killed me.// 

Sufficiently in control to face whatever--or whoever--awaited him, he
called out, "Okay, Gooshie." 

The door opened to reveal the frightened face of a long-haired, blue-
eyed young man slightly shorter than the Admiral himself. His
countenance was as pale as a wraith and his eyes darted over the
gleaming white dress uniform with increasing nervousness. 

Steeling himself again, Al stepped through the door. 

Almost immediately, the Visitor changed. He launched himself at the
older man, wild not with fury but with grief and fear. 

"Where is he?" he demanded in a hurt, angry voice, even as the two MPs
pulled him away from the startled Admiral. "What have you done to him?
Oh, God..." 

"Hey, careful!" Al barked at the two bulldogs, alarmed by their rough
grip on the kid. Nightmarish images of Leon Stiles flashed through his
mind. "What have I told you about jeopardizing this Project?" 

His words only seemed to make the young man more agitated. The
Visitor's eyes flared like the blue aura of a Leap. "Damn you!" he
swore vehemently. "Damn you all to hell!" 

***** 

>>Cascade, Washington 
>>May 24, 1999 

"...only wish you had given us a chance to read it first." 

Sam Beckett blinked in disorientation at the woman across from him,
behind a large desk in an imposing office, then at the gray-haired man
standing beside her, who had just spoken. The moment when he first
Leaped in was always a headache, but he hated being caught halfway
through a sentence. Before he could sputter out a reply, though, the
woman pressed one finger on the button of an intercom. 

"Please send them in," she instructed. 

Another female voice caught his ears as the door opened. "Sid, you
can't go through with this." 

"We're on a roll, Naomi," was the only reply from the man with her. 

Still bewildered, Sam turned to see who was speaking. A man, an
unhappy-looking woman, and a camera crew poured into the office. 

"Sid, I don't want you to until..." 

The Leaper finally found his voice. "Wh-what's going on?" 

The woman called Naomi looked at him, her expression hovering between
pride, embarrassment and shame. "Uh, uh... Blair, this is Sid Graham."


//Great, at least I know my name now.// 

"He flew all the way from New York. I wanted him to meet with you
alone first but he..." 

Sid interrupted. "Blair, I'm determined to publish your book." 

//My book?// 

"Berkshire Publishing is offering you one million dollars and I've
already had inquiries from several studios for the movie rights." 

Sam stammered in surprise. "A movie, that's...incredible." 

Sid beamed. "There's more, but I agreed to let the TV crew handle
that." 

A reporter pushed forward, shoving a microphone under his nose. "We've
been informed that due to the efforts of your mother, Naomi, the Nobel
Prize committee is considering your research for its science award." 

"Another one?" the physicist murmured softly. And since when did the
Nobel committee give out a *science* award? Last he knew, they were
still handing out several awards for the sciences, in various fields.
Physics being only one. 

"What was that, Mr. Sandburg?" 

Right. Sam Beckett had a Nobel Prize. Blair Sandburg probably didn't.
He glanced at the camera crew. At least... he didn't yet. 

"Nobel, that's, uh, that's unbelievable." He looked over at Naomi, who
the reporter had called his mother. "Excuse me. Uh...Mom?" 

Drawing her into a corner of the office, he was suddenly seized with
the realization that he had no idea what to say to her. He couldn't
just flat out ask what the hell was going on, because Blair probably
knew. 

"Mom..." he started lamely. 

Apparently it was enough, because Naomi began to babble an apology.
"Oh, Blair, I'm sorry, honey. I-I did this before you told me not to
do anything and then all I did was...I talked to Lars when he called."


Sam blinked. "Lars? Who's Lars?" 

"Lars. Lars. He's the masseur for one of the members of the committee.
I asked him only to slip..." 

The Leaper's stomach turned cold. From Naomi's behavior, he got a
sudden, strong impression that as positive as the media attention
seemed to be, it was seriously unwanted. "Stop, please. I--" 

Naturally, the reporter chose that moment to butt in again. "Would you
say you're overwhelmed?" he asked. 

Sam shook his head at the understatement, shrinking away from the
cameras. "I...I have nothing to say." He couldn't very well give an
interview when he had no idea what he was being interviewed about. 

"But..." the reporter began. 

Naomi looked about ready to cry. "Blair, Blair, I...Oh, I'm sorry." 

Beyond overwhelmed, six-time-Doctor Sam Beckett fled with Naomi
Sandburg in pursuit. Amazingly, the camera crew didn't follow. 

"Damn it, Al," the Leaper hissed as he tried to find an escape route
among the maze of hallways outside the office he'd just left. "Where
the hell are you?" 
  

***Part I*** 

>>Back at the Project 
>>2000 

"Do you want us to restrain him, sir?" one of the MPs asked. 

Al shook his head impatiently. "No. No restraints, no sedatives unless
absolutely necessary. You know the rules. Now, get out." 

The two looked startled. "Sir?" 

"Something wrong with your hearing, soldier? I said, get out!" 

"But, sir, the subject--" 

"The *Visitor* will be fine, and I am perfectly capable of handling
myself. Now, unless you want to find yourself facing a court-martial
on charges of insubordination--" 

Before he could even finish the threat, the two MPs had disappeared
out the door. The man they had been holding made a sudden move towards
the door, but Al stepped into his path just long enough for Ziggy to
slide it shut. He placed a firm governing hand on the kid's shoulder. 

"Don't mind them, Kid," the Admiral tried to reassure him in a joking
tone. "You know Marines--'Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not
Essential.'" 

In spite of his obvious determination not to, the young man cracked a
weak smile. 

The Observer returned it. "That's better. Now, why don't you have a
seat so we can talk." 

The smile disappeared and the Visitor's voice turned cold. "I have
nothing to say to you." 

//Aw, hell. Sam, why do you always have to Leap into the stubborn
ones?// "That's too bad, Kid, because we can't get you out of here
unless you talk to us." 

"I'm not leaving without Jim," the younger man insisted obstinately. 

<So that's who "he" is. Wonder why he's so convinced we've got this
other guy too?> "This Jim--he a friend of yours?" 

The Visitor just glared at him. "Very funny." 

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Kid." 

The young man winced. "Stop calling me that." 

"Yeah, well, until you give me something else to call you, it'll have
to do." 

"After what happened, you're gonna try to convince me you don't know
my name?" 

Al sighed, beginning to get impatient. If he didn't get something out
of the kid soon, he might not establish contact with Sam before he
Leaped again. There was never any way to know how long they had.
"Look, Kid, all I know about you is that you're male and about my
height, you have brown hair and blue eyes, and you're firmly convinced
we're holding someone named Jim as a prisoner somewhere in this
facility." 

The young man still looked skeptical. 

"How about we make a deal?" the Admiral offered. "You answer my
questions, I'll try to answer some of yours. Does that help?" 

His companion remained dubious, but apparently his curiosity got the
better of him because a question slipped out. "Where are we?" 

"You're in New Mexico, but don't ask for the specifics, because it's
classified." 

"New Mexico!" the Visitor exclaimed in alarm. "Aw, Man, Naomi and
Simon must be worried sick! How the hell did we get here?" Naomi--
*that* was his mother's name, he remembered with a sudden surge of
relief. 

Al sent out a mental plea to Ziggy, hoping the computer was listening
in on the conversation and might be able to cross-reference the names
Jim, Naomi, and Simon. Just in case that was all they got out of the
kid. 

"Sorry, you owe me one answer before you get any more. What's your
name, Kid?" 

He could almost see the motor cranking in the younger man's head as he
reviewed his options before finally giving in with a look of
resignation. "Blair Sandburg." 

//Hallelujah! Ziggy, you damned well better be getting this!//
Grinning in relief, the Admiral stuck out a hand, which the Visitor
accepted with some trepidation. "Good to meet you, Blair. I'm Al
Calavicci." 

"Admiral," was the curt acknowledgment of the uniform. 

"Please, call me Al. I get enough of 'Admiral' from Ziggy and Gooshie
and those two nozzles out there." He gestured towards the door. 

Once again, Blair couldn't help but smile a little. 

"Okay, Kid, your turn." At the younger man's look, he shrugged. "What
can I say, it's a habit. When you get to be my age, everybody's a
kid." 

The smile came back again; this time it was a little less hesitant.
"Okay, who are Gooshie and Ziggy?" 

"Ziggy is the world's first computer with an ego and Gooshie is her
head programmer." 

Blair laughed and Al smirked at him. "What, you think I'm kidding?" 

The young man shook his head. "Why'd you call it Ziggy?" 

"Oh, no. Don't try to sneak a two-for-one past me," Al admonished. 

"I'm not--you asked if I thought you were kidding, and I answered
you." 

//Damn, the kid's sharp.// He laughed. "You got me there. But I didn't
name her--a friend of mine did. And I have no idea where he got the
name." 

The younger man jumped as a petulant female voice suddenly came out of
every corner of the room at once. "Admiral, dare I remind you that
without your influence, I would have been graced with the much more
sensible name of Alpha," it pouted. 

"Considering what else you would have been cursed with, I'd think
you'd be thanking your lucky stars," he retorted. 

"You forget, Admiral, that I am not capable of believing in such
quaint human concepts as 'luck.'" 

"That's Ziggy?" Blair asked. 

"That's Ziggy. And now you do owe me two." 

Sandburg flushed at being caught by his own trick, but nodded. 

"Why don't you tell me about your friend, Jim," Al suggested. 

At the mention of the name, the kid shut down. He withdrew into
himself with a shake of the head and another stubborn flare in his
blue eyes. 

//Damn, he's protective of this guy. Wonder who he is? A nephew? A
son, maybe?// 

"Look, Kid, believe it or not, we're here to help you. But we can't do
that unless you help us first." 

"Yeah, right, you want to help us!" Blair exploded. "Help us help you,
you mean. The paper was a fake, all right? I made it all up. So just
let us go." He curled into a fetal position and buried his curly head
in his knees. 

"Blair," Al spoke quietly. 

The young man's head popped up like a spring as if he wasn't used to
being addressed by his given name. 

"Blair, whatever you may believe, I promise you your friend Jim is not
here. But either you or someone you care about is in trouble, or you
wouldn't be here. I need your help to fix it." 

"Prove it." 

"I'd be happy to. But first I need you to tell me the date." 
  

***Part II*** 

>>Men's room 
>>Rainier University Administration Building 

Sam stared into the mirror, studying the face he'd borrowed for the
duration of this Leap. Blair Sandburg was of indeterminate height--
indeterminate because Sam was always able to look in his reflection's
eyes regardless of height--with spiraling brown curls that fell just
past his shoulders and bright, intelligent blue eyes. Those eyes
seemed to dance with mischief, in spite of the physicist's own
confusion that shone through. Sandburg's nose was similar to Al's and
the length of his hair accentuated his high forehead. 

"Sam!" 

The Leaper pivoted around at the sound of the familiar voice to face
the unreflected form of his best friend. "Al! Thank God!" 

The hologram indicated their surroundings. "What are you doing hanging
out in here, Sam? You usually only go to the head after I arrive, when
you want a private place to talk." 

Ignoring the snide remark, Sam pointed to the door. "I'm hiding," he
stated emphatically. "From my mother." 

"Your mother? Oh, you mean Blair's mother." 

"Yes, Blair's mother. Naomi Sandburg. She's been following me around
apologizing practically since the minute I Leaped in here." 

"Huh. Wonder why?" the hologram's attention drifted curiously to the
door. 

Sam smiled wryly. "Near as I can figure, she got her son a chance at a
Nobel Prize." 

"A Nobel...no kidding? Hey, that's great!" 

"If it's so great, why is she apologizing?" the Leaper retorted. "And
why am I here?" 

"What? Oh!" Al brought the handlink up before his eyes and started
punching what seemed like a random pattern of cubes. "Sorry, Sam,
Ziggy's still working on it. We had a helluva time getting the kid to
even tell us his name. He's firmly convinced we're holding someone
named Jim prisoner." 

"Who's Jim?" 

"That's what we've got Ziggy trying to figure out. Look, Sam, I can't
stay long. I think I might be able to get the kid to talk if I can
just 'prove' to him that we want to help him." 

"Prove it to him?" the physicist sounded worried. 

Al waved a dismissive hand. "I'll think of something." Just then, the
handlink squealed insistently and the hologram lifted it again. "Ah
ha! Apparently 'Jim' is a Detective James Ellison with the Cascade."
The older man slapped the colorful device. "Police Department...that's
weird, the way he was acting I coulda sworn he was talking about..."
The Observer shook his head and refocused his attention on the
handlink. "Ahhh, anyway, they've been working together for about three
years, and roommates almost as long. Seems the kid's some sort of
Consultant to the Major Crimes Department, although he seems to stick
pretty exclusively with Ellison." 

"I'm in Cascade?" Sam interrupted. 

"Huh? Yeah, Cascade, Washington." 

"What's the date?" 

Al sighed before lifting his eyes to reply. "May 24, 1999." 

The Leaper felt a sudden pang of homesickness. "But that's..." 

"Only a year away. I know." His friend's sympathetic brown eyes locked
onto him for a moment. "You ok?" he asked quietly. 

Sam nodded, collapsing against the counter. "Yeah. It's just so
close..." <...and still so far away.> 

"I know." Al sighed deeply. "Look, Sam, if Blair's a consultant for
the Cascade PD...well, whatever you're here to do might have something
to do with them--" 

"So, I should probably go down to the precinct." 

"Unless you've got a better idea." 

***** 

>>Back at the Project 

"Where did you go?" Blair asked as the Waiting Room door slid open
again to admit Al. 

The Admiral shook his head. "Sorry. Not until you answer that question
you still owe me." 

Sandburg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right." 

"Why didn't you tell me your friend Jim was a cop?" 

The younger man looked up, startled. "You honestly didn't know?" 

The door closed and Al crossed to one of the plain white chairs in the
room, his eyes never leaving the young man in the fermisuit. "No, we
didn't. We can find out, even if you don't tell us anything, but I'd
rather get it from you. Call it a matter of honor." 

Blair shook his head, bewildered. "But if you didn't know...why am I
here?" 

"I'll tell you, if you can tell me why an anthropology grad student is
protecting a cop who's a former Army Ranger." 

"I'm not protecting him," Blair finally admitted in a soft voice.
"It's too late for that. I'm just trying to minimize the damage I've
already caused." 

"Is this related to the paper you mentioned earlier?" Al guessed. 

When his question was once again greeted with silence, he spoke again.
"Ziggy, do you have access to any papers written by a Blair Sandburg?"


"Mr. Sandburg's Master's Thesis is registered with the Library of
Congress, but I can find no other public documents with his
authorship. However...there is an item in the Cascade Times which
might be of interest." 

The Admiral thought he heard the young man murmur "Oh no," before once
again burying his head in his hands. 

It took the older man only a moment to weigh his options. He stood.
"Open the door." 

"Admiral?" the computer queried. 

"Open the door. I have a bargain to keep." 

Obediently, the door whooshed open and the two MPs moved to block it. 

"Oh, for Pete's sake...get out of my way!" he barked at them. When
they quickly obeyed, Al looked at Blair. "Come on, Kid. I have
something to show you." 

The Visitor's eyes brightened with curiosity as he followed the
Admiral out of the Waiting Room into the glowing white hallway.
Another door slid open before them and the young anthropologist let
out a gasp of surprise as he took in the awesome sight of the Control
Room. 

Above their heads, the globe that was Ziggy's heart seemed to flare in
welcome. The pair emerging from the Waiting Room was greeted with
curious stares from the pair of technicians stationed at the rainbow-
colored console. The young man's eyes drifted up and his mouth fell
open as he took in the room's high ceiling and gleaming metal walls. 

Al turned to Blair. "Blair Sandburg, welcome to Project Quantum Leap."

  

***Part III*** 

>>Control Room 
>>Project Quantum Leap 

Blair was either in heaven or hell, he hadn't decided which yet.
Although the sight tugged on his scientist's heart, the incongruous
blending of sterility and oddly-placed colors did nothing to assuage
his fear that this was a facility designed to contain a Sentinel. 

"Al, what the hell are you thinking?" a woman with long, wavy dark
hair exploded as she approached them. "If the Committee hears about
this--" Whatever she had been saying died on her full lips when she
looked at Blair. 

"Sam..." Her heart seemed to splinter in her eyes. Without finishing
she suddenly turned on one heel and disappeared through a different
door than the one they had entered by. 

An older woman closed the distance between them, this one with
straight brunette hair cut just past her chin. //God, she's
beautiful,// Blair thought in frank admiration. 

"Al?" the woman asked them with a glance in Blair's direction. She
sounded unhappy as well. 

The Admiral sighed and buried his face in her hair. "Beth, honey, I
swear I forgot." 

//And taken,// the anthropologist amended his earlier thought with a
silent sigh. 

"Al, you know the rules," Beth reminded her husband gently. 

He nodded. "Yeah, but I also know what I'm doing." 

"And what's that?" 

"Saving this Leap, I hope." He turned to a tall black woman who was
watching them with a raised eyebrow. "Verbena? Can you keep an eye on
things here for a moment?" 

The tall black woman nodded. "I hope you've decided what you're going
to tell him, Al." 

"I'm going to tell him whatever he wants to know. I want him to know
he can trust us." 

She nodded. 

"Good. Ziggy?" 

Obligingly, the computer opened another door. Al gestured for Blair to
go ahead of him. Still a little leery but too curious to refuse, the
anthropologist did as directed. 

"We'll be back in a few minutes. If you need me before then, have
Ziggy page me in my office." With that, the Admiral and Beth followed
the Visitor out of the room. 

***** 

>>Major Crimes Bullpen 
>>Cascade PD 

Sam stepped off the elevator into the bullpen then let out his breath
in a nervous stream. Almost immediately, he was spotted by a man in a
suit who grinned in his direction. 

"Hey, Sandburg," the man called in a teasing voice. "Who's playing you
on the Sentinel TV show? I know, Adam Sandler." 

An older man echoed the grin. "Listen, I hear Denzel is playing me." 

//"Sentinel TV show"?// Sam thought frantically. //Al! I really wish
you'd come back and clue me in here!// 

The two men seemed to be having a good laugh at his expense. From a
glance into the room, though, another man several desks away wasn't
enjoying the joke any more than he was. 

"Look, there isn't going to be a TV show, all right?" the Leaper told
them, beginning to get annoyed. 

"Just a Nobel prize," a third man contributed. 

As if they all functioned with a single brain, most of the occupants
of the room began bowing in an exaggerated, obsequious manner in his
direction. Only the man he'd noticed before didn't participate in the
display. 

//What do you want to bet that's Ellison?// 

"We're not worthy," the group chanted. "We're not worthy. We're not
worthy. We're not worthy." 

"Guys, grow up," Sam admonished, before turning and leaving the room
in disgust. 

Showing up had accomplished one thing, though. Now that he had seen
Jim Ellison, he had a very strong feeling that whatever he was here to
do had something to do with him. 

***** 

>>Office of Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci 
>>Back at the Project 

Blair turned to the Admiral with an expression of excitement that was
startling in its familiarity. //God. What must it be like to see that
expression on Sam's face again?// Al thought with a pang. Once again,
he found himself grateful he no longer saw a stranger's soul looking
through his best friend's eyes. 

"Man, this is wild," the younger man enthused. "You guys really travel
in time?" 

"Well, we all don't," the Observer confirmed with a smile. "But yeah,
one of us does." 

At that moment, a door slid open again and the Visitor's eyes widened
appreciatively at the sight of Tina, who graced him with her most
deceptively empty-headed smiles. Al suppressed a chuckle and leaned in
towards Blair. "Sorry, Kid--she's engaged to Gooshie." 

"Dr. Beckett, is that you?" the bubbly technician asked, practically
bouncing into the office. 

"Ah...no, my name's Blair Sandburg." The young man shook her hand with
a dazzling smile. "Although you can call me disappointed if you really
are engaged." 

Tina beamed and Al and Beth snickered under their breath. 

"Awwww," the redhead melted into a high-pitched giggle. "Do you look
as cute as you talk?" 

Blair blinked in surprise. "What?" 

Al smiled. "You know that proof I promised you? Here, take a look." He
accepted a small hand-mirror from Tina and held it out to the young
man. 

Still smiling in confusion, Sandburg accepted the mirror, and with it,
the biggest shock of his life. One glance into the glass made his
smile fade and his stomach turn cold. 

A face stared up at him from the reflection, but it wasn't his. It was
an older man, a man who had to be in his early forties. He had light
brown hair with a little bit of a wave and a shock of silver falling
forward over his forehead. Green-hazel eyes looked into his, filled
with the same shock he felt. He reached for his face, and an
unfamiliar hand appeared in the glass, touching a prominent nose that
suggested the man who owned it had at least one Slavic ancestor. 

Blair stumbled to his feet, dropping the mirror with a loud clatter. 

"Blair, calm down." Al was instantly at his side, laying a comforting
hand on the younger man's arm. 

"Al, didja hafta scare him like that?" Tina pouted cutely. 

"What happened to me?" the young anthropologist demanded. 

"The man you see in that mirror," Al pointed to it. "That's Sam
Beckett. As I explained to you, you've temporarily switched places, so
that Sam can fix something that went wrong the first time May twenty-
fourth of 1999 came around." 

//Something that went wrong...Oh, God.// 

"But he's too late," Blair whispered. "He's a day too late." 
  

***Part IV*** 

>>Men's room 
>>Major Crimes Division 
>>Cascade PD 

"Sam?" 

The physicist stopped pacing the floor to glare at his friend. "Where
have you been?" 

As usual, Al ignored him. "Geez, Sam, what is it with you and the
men's room this Leap?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's bad
enough when you drag me in here to talk." 

"Well, since you neglected to tell me where I live, where else was I
supposed to go?" Sam retorted. 

"Oh." Al slapped the handlink. "852 Prospect, apartment 307. Sorry.
But why are you in here, instead of in there?" He jerked a thumb in
the direction of the bullpen. 

"Because, frankly, Cascade's finest were behaving a little too
immaturely for my taste." He fixed an impatient glare on the hologram.
"Please tell me you have something." 

"Well, we think we've figured out why you're here." 

"Finally! What does Ziggy say?" 

"That there's a fifty-six percent chance you're supposed to stop a Sid
Graham from publishing Blair's doctoral thesis...and an eighty-four
percent chance you're here to stop Captain Simon Banks and Inspector
Megan Connor from getting shot by a man named Klaus Zeller." 

***** 

"Al, that's incredible!" Sam exclaimed when the Observer had finished
relating Blair's story to him. The same breathless excitement was in
his voice that the Visitor's had contained when he'd been told about
Project Quantum Leap. 

Al smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well, according to Sandburg, it was only
incredible when it was a secret. This unwanted publicity is destroying
Ellison, and taking their friendship down with it. Not to mention
Blair's got a deathly fear of the guy becoming some sort of government
guinea pig, which is why it took so long to get him to talk to us." 

"Sentinels," Sam breathed. "I've got to read that dissertation." 

"You go right ahead. Just don't say anything about it to anyone. Oh,
except Captain Banks and Inspector Connor. Apparently, they're in on
the secret." 

The Leaper nodded. "Do you think that's why they were shot?" 

"Beats me, Kid." 

"So, why does Ziggy think I'm primarily here to stop the shooting?
Were they killed?" 

Al shook his head. "No, they both ended up in the hospital for a
while, but that's it. But he says from what he's got so far, it looks
like Sandburg managed to fix the dissertation problem all right on his
own." 

Sam nodded. "All right. So what--" 

He was interrupted by the ringing of Blair's cell phone. 

***** 

Jim was passing the men's room when his ears were drawn automatically
to the sound of Sandburg's voice coming from inside. 

"Do you think that's why they were shot?" 

The detective stopped and stared at the closed door. //What the
hell?// He focused his hearing more closely. For the moment, the
younger man was silent, as if listening to someone, but all Jim could
pick up on was some sort of bizarre static. 

Then Blair spoke again. "So, why does Ziggy think I'm primarily here
to stop the shooting? Were they killed?" 

Another strange, static pause followed. 

//Ziggy? Who the hell is Ziggy? And what on earth is Sandburg rambling
about?// 

"All right. So what--" 

The anthropologist's cell phone rang unexpectedly, causing the
Sentinel to wince and clap his hands to his ears. 

"Hello?" 

"Blair, it's Sid again! You drive a hard bargain." 

Jim stiffened. 

"Sid, yeah. Look, I told you, I don't want to publish--" 

"You're gonna turn down three million dollars?" 

The Sentinel quickly dialed down his hearing. His stomach felt like it
did after some of Naomi's concoctions. Pushing the hurt into the
blacksmith's forge of his lingering anger, he turned deliberate steps
away from the bathroom where Sandburg was negotiating a contract for
the sale of his life. 

***** 

Sam had been pleasantly surprised to discover that Inspector Megan
Connor of New South Wales was a very good listener. She had willingly
endured his frustrated monologue that seemed to be a mesh of his own
concerns and some left over from the young man whose life he'd
borrowed. 

He'd poured out everything to her, from his frustration over Graham's
refusal to take no for an answer, to an inexplicable conviction that
he'd lost the trust of a man he'd never actually met. That part, he
was certain, had to be Blair, even though it reminded him a little of
the guilt he'd felt when he'd discovered what Al had given up to help
him save Tom. Of course, even if Al had been there instead of trying
to get more out of Ziggy, he couldn't have said that. Not with someone
else around. 

That made him wonder all the more that Ziggy didn't seem to think he
was there to help the two men. If Jim and Blair were as close as he
and Al...how could he just stand by and let that be destroyed? 

Megan smiled sadly at him. "It's an extraordinary accomplishment...but
I hate to see what it's doing to you and Jim. Look, Sandy, if you know
you're doing what's right, then you can move on with a clear
conscience. So can Jim." 

Sam nodded thoughtfully. //But what's the right thing to do? And am I
supposed to be the one to do it?// "Yeah," he murmured. 

She turned to go inside the building where Bartley, his people, and
the rest of their team awaited them. The Leaper followed--at least
until he had another chance to talk to Al, he wasn't letting Inspector
Connor out of his sight. 

They entered the room just as Ellison was leaving it. Sam let his eyes
follow the other man, but continued in the direction he had been
going. 

"What are you doing?" the man he'd identified as Captain Banks glared
at him. "Go with him, Sandburg." 

Sam's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I...are you sure he wants me
with him, Sir?" 

"I need you with him. Help him focus. Now, go." 

"Babe stays here though, right?" the other man in the room asked. 

The Inspector smiled tightly. "I might shoot him myself." 

With a grin, Sam turned and left the way he came. 

Simon cast a confused glance in Megan's direction. "Connor, was I
hallucinating a moment ago, or did Sandburg just call me 'Sir'?" 


***Part V*** 

Sam had spotted Ellison in the crowd and had almost reached him when
Al appeared right in front of him. The Leaper jumped a little in
surprise and swore under his breath. "Don't *do* that!" he hissed. 

"Do what?" Jim demanded, turning to face him. The cold, hard look on
his face was not comforting. "What are you doing, Sandburg?" 

"Captain Banks sent me," the Leaper explained weakly. "He, uh, wants
me to help you focus." This was with a pointed glance at the hologram.


"Oh, ok." Al started to punch at the handlink. "I'll get Ziggy to ask
Blair what you should do." 

//"Captain Banks?" Now's a hell of a time to pull that one out of your
ass, Sandburg, unless you're trying to make up for lost brownie
points.// The detective's nostrils flared. "Fine." 

//You don't sound like it's fine,// Sam thought, but he chose not to
speak. 

He didn't realize that choice only amplified Ellison's suspicions. Now
he was suddenly being quiet without having to be asked? And there'd
been that weird static again a moment ago... 

"Ok, Blair says you should tell him to try to isolate sounds. Zeller
isn't going to make this easy on them--" 

Sam repeated the young man's instructions to Ellison. 

"I know what to do, Chief, all right?" Jim snapped. "I know the drill.
You don't have to quote me chapter and verse. Why don't you save that
for your interviews?" 

//Damn. He's definitely not taking this well.// Sam sighed. //Well, at
least he's calling me...er, Blair...by a nickname. That's a good
sign...I hope.// 

"Sheesh, I'm glad the kid wasn't here to hear that," Al muttered. 

Ellison started to wander away, scanning the crowd with his eyes and
ears. Sam watched him go with another sigh. 

Up on the stage, a man approached the podium. "Mr. Bartley will be out
momentarily. He's finishing a phone call to the attorney general." 

The Leaper continued watching Jim, who had reached up to remove the
radio ear-piece. He paused, turning his head as if reacting to a
sound, then pushed further into the crowd. 

"Aw, hell!" Al swore as they suddenly noticed a group of reporters
converging on the detective. "Sam, there's a ninety-six percent chance
they won't catch Zeller if those reporters--" 

The Leaper didn't wait to hear any more. He started barreling through
the crowd. When he reached the enclave surrounding Jim, he started
pulling the reporters away. 

It was too late. A shot rang through the air and a glance up at
Bartley's window revealed the man tumbling out of his chair. 

Sam swore loudly. "Damn it, Al, why didn't you warn me sooner?!" 

"Jack's been shot!" a voice shouted. "Get a paramedic in here!" 

With an odd look in the Leaper's direction, Jim bounded up onto the
platform and began to search the crowd once more with his eyes. 

Sam swore again. 

***** 

>>Waiting Room 
>>Back at the Project 

"Hey, how're you doing?" Al asked gently as he entered the room. 

Blair set down the book he'd been reading and ran one hand through his
dark curls. "I don't know. Between this... swiss-cheese thing you told
me about and worrying about Jim..." He lifted disturbed eyes to the
Admiral. "Are you sure Sam can fix this?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure," Al replied with quiet confidence. "Sam's been doing
this for a pretty long time." 

"Maybe it would be better if he didn't," Blair confessed. "I mean,
man, if I screwed up this badly, maybe Jim would be better off without
me." 

"Hey, Kid, you're not the one that screwed up. And I'll tell you
something. Ziggy doesn't even think Sam's there to straighten out this
business with your dissertation. He thinks you did a good enough job
of that on your own." 

"Really? Then why is he there?" 

"He's there because this guy Zeller is gonna take a shot at your
Captain and this Inspector Connor." 

Blair turned white and Al held up a comforting hand. "Don't worry--
forewarned is forearmed, remember?" 

The kid nodded and Al studied him. "Ellison really means a lot to you,
doesn't he?" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I know he's not old enough to be my
father, but he's the closest thing I have. Or more like a big brother,
I guess." 

The Observer nodded, think of the absent genius who'd always been like
a younger brother or a son to him. //I hear you, Kid.// "Your dad
wasn't around much?" 

"Hell, I don't even know who he is," Blair admitted. "All Naomi ever
said was that there was a list of candidates. Let's just say I met one
of them...and I sure hope it's not him." 

//Damn. No wonder the kid's so devastated by this.// 

"I know where you're coming from," he sympathized. "I grew up in an
orphanage." 

"You did?" 

"Yeah. My mom ran off with an encyclopedia salesman when I was just a
kid. My sister had Down's Syndrome and Dad couldn't take care of us,
so he placed us in a home. A few years later, he died of cancer." 

"What happened to your sister?" Blair asked gently. 

"She was sent to a mental hospital. She died there of pneumonia when
she was sixteen." 

"Man." 

"That's why I went into the Naval Academy as soon as I turned
eighteen. That was my family." 

Blair nodded. "Sounds kind of like Jim. His dad went a little
overboard on the sibling rivalry thing--he pitted his sons against
each other so much that it took them until a couple of years ago to
have any sort of a relationship. Plus, Jim's dad made fun of him
because of his senses...I guess Jim was looking for a better family
than the one he had." 

"Most of us do, Kid," Al agreed. 


***Part VI*** 

>>Back in Cascade 

"I like the kid, Sam," the hologram admitted. They were in Blair's car
en route to some place named Gunderson Shipping. Al had been telling
Sam about his latest conversation with the young man. "I like him a
lot. I even--hell, I even find myself wishing I were his father,
though I know it's impossible." 

"Impossible?" Sam asked curiously. 

Al nodded. "Yeah. The kid was born after I married Beth, and while I
was in 'Nam. Plus, I have yet to ever meet Naomi. All things
considered, it would be pretty difficult for him to be mine. But I
swear, Sandburg's like an amalgamation of you and me--your brains and
my gift with women." The hologram smirked. "You should have seen Tina
swoon over him--good thing Gooshie wasn't there." 

Sam laughed. "Just don't tell me he can get Ziggy to cooperate, or I
might be tempted to keep him there." 

The Observer's face sobered immediately. "Don't even joke about that,
Sam. As much as I like Blair...hell, I'd take getting you home any
day." 

Sam smiled gratefully. "So, what did Blair do about his dissertation
anyway?" 

"Apparently he called a press conference and declared himself a fraud.
Damn, the kid has guts." 

"He turned down a chance at a Nobel Prize? God, Al, I don't think I
would have that kind of courage." 

"Yeah, you would," the Observer replied with quiet confidence,
remembering two separate occasions when Sam had made a far greater
sacrifice for him. "If you had to choose between a Nobel Prize and
someone you cared about, you would do it in a second. You and the kid
have a lot in common that way." 

Sam studied his friend. //Do I, Al? Or are you just seeing me
reflected in the mirror of who you are?// 

***** 

"These Gunderson files are going to take days to go through," Megan
expressed the thought that had been dancing through Sam's mind almost
since the moment he'd arrived. She looked at the man she thought was
Blair, then at Jim, then added pointedly, "Although things might move
more quickly if you two would speak to each other." 

//Thank you for that glaringly obvious observation,// Sam thought with
a silent, sarcastic sigh. //Any suggestions for *how* to get Detective
Ellison to speak to me would be nice.// 

Jim's reply answered both of them. "There's nothing to say, Connor." 

"Sandy didn't do this on purpose," Megan pointed out. 

"Oh, no?" Jim glared at the Leaper. "Hey, Chief, let me ask you
something. How did you intend to protect my identity and still keep
your research valid?" 

"I don't know," Sam answered honestly. 

"Ah!" the Detective pounced on that confession. "You don't know.
That's a good answer, Chief. You couldn't have. You knew that and went
ahead and wrote it down anyway." 

There was no answer. Jim turned to stare at him and Sam swore
wordlessly. //Oh damn. I did something out of character. What would
Blair have done?// 

Since he didn't know, he just maintained a stubborn silence. After a
moment, Ellison shook his head and turned away. A moment later, he
straightened up suddenly as if something had caught his eye. 

//Something probably did,// Sam acknowledged. "What is it?" he heard
himself ask, curious in spite of everything. 

"Connor, we got a 211 in progress." 

Followed closely by the Australian, Jim hurried across the street. Sam
started to follow, then had second thoughts and dropped to the
pavement with a sigh, balancing his forehead on his knees. 

***** 

The only sound in the loft for hours had been Naomi's voice. Jim
refused to speak and all Sam's efforts had been brusquely deflected.
The time traveler felt a little sorry for Blair's mother, who seemed
to be doing everything she could to undo the damage wrought. He sipped
at the tea she had just given him and watched as she handed Jim a mug
of the same steaming blend. 

"Didn't surprise me to learn, Jim, that you had this... gift. I always
sensed a special energy about you." 

Jim accepted the tea and the compliment with a stiff nod. "Very kind,
Naomi. Thank you." 

"I'm just...terribly sorry at how all this has...turned out,
especially when I see what's happened to you two." 

"Naomi, I know you were just trying to help Blair." 

Sam set down his own mug almost hard enough to break it. //He can
forgive Naomi, who got the damned ball rolling in the first place, but
he's shutting out his best friend over this?// 

Before he could say anything, though, Naomi babbled on with a worried
glance at him. "You two, listen to me. You cannot let this tear apart
your friendship." 

//You hear that?// Sam directed upwards with a pleading glance. 

"Thank you." Jim handed the mug back to her. "Things happen, Naomi,
you know? People change. You just got to go with it. This whole
Sentinel thing has just gotten too out of hand. I can't take this
attention. That's not me. I just want to go back to the way things
were." 

"You want to quit." The physicist's voice was quiet, sympathetic. 

The detective's attention remained focused on Naomi, even as he
flinched at the other man's choice of words. "Yeah... I guess so." 

Sam found himself pondering the roles the detective and anthropologist
had assumed. Ellison was a reluctant hero, caught by a choice he made
long ago. Sandburg was his lifeline, the one person inside his secret
world, the person who made that world sane. Those were roles he could
identify with, having played both with Al. But now, those roles had
been shattered, and if something didn't happen soon to reverse it, the
men themselves would probably follow. 

The Leaper considered his next words very carefully. He knew that "I
know how you feel" was the worst possible choice right now. Jim needed
to believe that Blair was where he wanted to be, not a man as trapped
as him in a life he had never asked for. Especially since that
wouldn't be Blair speaking, but rather Sam Beckett. 

"Would you really rather spend the rest of your life pretending to be
someone you're not?" was the quiet reply he settled on. 

The detective spun to face him, his face still ablaze with hurt and
anger. "Someone I'm not? Well, you tell me who I *am,* then 'cause I
have no idea. At one point, I had a reputation of being a pretty
decent cop. Now, people look at me and they...they perceive me as some
goofball comic book character." 

"You're a man who feels like he's lost control of his life," Sam
answered immediately, interrupting the detective's tirade. 

Jim paused halfway to the loft door. "I don't just feel that way,
Sandburg," he admitted without looking back. "I have lost control." 

"So we'll get it back," the Leaper promised. 

"That's what I'm talking about. Getting it back." 

"Throwing your Sentinel abilities away isn't going to give you back
your control," the other man argued. "It's letting the attention and
the media and Sid Graham control your life, not you." 

"You have a better idea?" 

"No," Sam admitted. "Not yet. But I will, I promise." 

Jim shook his head. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Chief. If I
ever want to go back to being a good cop and live a simple life, it
ain't going to happen this way. Your research is done. Why don't you
just let it go? Thanks for the tea." 

The door closing behind him made a very final sound. 


***Part VII*** 

>>At the Precinct 

Sam stared bleakly at the elevator doors, his eyes drifting upwards
only as each floor of the building crawled by like a lazy turtle. If
Ziggy was right, within a few more minutes he would Leap, provided he
succeeded in preventing the shooting. 

He frowned. //But if I do Leap after that...what's going to happen to
Jim and Blair?// 

"It's your choice, Sam." The physicist jumped at the sound of the
voice, spinning around to face the hologram who had suddenly appeared
in the elevator cab. Al continued, gesturing towards the elevator
doors with his cigar. "But do you really want to let Banks and Connor
get shot? That's the only way you could guarantee that you'll still be
here." 

"How did you--?" 

"Come on, Sam, I know that look." 

The Leaper smiled. "I'm that obvious, huh?" 

"You wear your heart on your sleeve--you always have. But that's ok.
That's what makes you so great at what you do." 

Sam sighed, running one hand through his short, honey-brown hair. "I
don't know, Al. I just...I just don't feel right leaving something
undone." 

"You won't be," Al promised him. "If God or fate or whatever decides
to Leap you outta here after you stop the shooting, that means you are
done. Remember, Ziggy said Blair did a pretty good job with the
dissertation thing himself. He and Ellison are pretty close--I think
they can survive this." 

//They can survive this...// Just then the doors dinged open, and Sam
emerged into the Major Crimes bullpen, his decision made. "How much
time do I have?" he asked. 

With a knowing smile, the Admiral slapped the fluorescent Lego
collection in his hands. "Ah...about six minutes and twenty-two
seconds. How exactly are you planning to handle this?" 

Sam smiled. "Trust me." 

Al's eyes narrowed. "Why does that phrase make me more nervous?" 

The Leaper ignored him. "Megan, are you busy?" he asked as he
approached the Inspector. 

Connor smiled brightly. "Depends on what the alternative is. What can
I do for you, Sandy?" 

"I missed lunch today, but I really need to talk to the Captain. Could
you run down to the break room and get me a sandwich out of the
machine?" 

"Good thinking, Sam," Al remarked in approval. 

Megan nodded. "Sure." He pulled a worn five-dollar bill from his
pocket and extended it to her. She pushed his hand away. "Don't worry
about it. The last thing you need right now is to be thinking about
money." 

Al whistled appreciatively as Connor disappeared towards the elevator.
"Whaddya know, the nozzle was right. She is a babe." 

"Al..." Only Sam could draw out his friend's name into quite that many
exasperated syllables. 

The Observer looked at him innocently. "What?" 

***** 

"Oh, sir, no. There was never any intention of keeping this from you.
I was merely...That's right. A full report on your desk tomorrow
morning. I'd just like to say that... Right." Simon hung up the phone
and looked bleakly over at his detective. "That was our boss. Thinks I
kept the Sentinel thing a secret." 

Jim shrugged. "Well, Captain, in actuality, you did." 

The captain glared at him. "You're not helping." 

"Yes, sir." 

There was an insistent rap on the door before Simon could voice his
next troubled thought. "Come in," he called brusquely. 

"Captain, can I talk to you for a moment?" came from the man in the
doorway. 

"Not now, Sandburg." 

"I'm sorry, Sir, but it's urgent." 

The captain sighed with a look at Jim. "Fine. But make it fast, I've
got a report to write." 

Sam stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. 

"Aw, hell, Sam. I don't know what you did, but now Ziggy's saying
there's a sixty-two percent chance Ellison gets shot too." 

The Leaper spun towards his friend, startled. "What?!" 

Jim Ellison narrowed his eyes at the other man. //What the hell? What
is he doing and what *is* that static?// 

"Apparently the bullet was intended for him. It hit Banks and Connor
instead because Ellison had bent over to look at something--" 

Sam swore. //And now, because of me, he's standing right in its
path.// 

"Sandburg, *what* did you need to tell me so urgently?" Simon's
impatient voice intruded on the physicist's panicked thoughts. 

"Just, ah--" 

"Fifteen seconds, Sam!" 

"Get down!" the Leaper shouted, and threw himself at Jim. 

The two men tumbled to the ground. Simon followed, startled by the
vehemence of the command. Half a heartbeat later, the captain's window
exploded, then the glass between his office and the room outside. A
bullet imbedded itself in the doorframe of the bullpen. 

Rolling away from Ellison, Dr. Sam Beckett stared for a moment at the
ceiling of the office, before letting his eyes drift closed in relief.


Jim grabbed his arm. "Sandburg, how the hell did you know about that
shooter when I didn't?" 

Sam's temper flared, although he was never sure afterwards if it was
really him or some of Blair's neurons. The physicist tore himself out
of the detective's grasp and sat up. "I don't know, Jim," he snapped.
"Maybe you got your wish. Maybe you're back to being just a 'normal'
cop." 

***** 

A moment later, the elevator doors parted and Megan stepped into the
bullpen. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed at the melee that greeted her.
"What happened?" 

The room was packed with officers from what looked like every division
in the Cascade Police Department. Uniforms and plainclothesmen
filtered in and out of Simon's office, which was the apparent
recipient of an unexpected new ventilation system. 

Joel Taggart smiled shakily at her. "You missed all the excitement,
Connor. Zeller took a shot at Jim and Simon. If it weren't for
Sandburg, he might have succeeded." 

The Inspector let her gaze wander to where a small group was using a
tape measure to track the bullet's trajectory. A shiver ran through
her as she noticed the path went straight over her desk. 

"What did he do?" she asked. 

"He tackled Jim and yelled for Simon to get down." Taggart shook his
head in amazement. "Damned if I know how he knew. If it weren't for
the fact that Jim's the one who usually does that, I woulda sworn the
kid's paper was on the wrong guy." 

Frowning, Megan shook her head. "No...look at the trajectory. If I'd
been at my desk, or anywhere near it--" 

The older man did so. "You might have been hit too." 

She nodded. "Sandy sent me down to the break room a minute ago to get
him a sandwich out of the vending machine." 

"But there isn't a sandwich machine in the break room--" 

"Yeah. I noticed that when I got down there." 

Joel's eyes widened as the significance of her words suddenly
registered. "Whoah." 

***** 

"Simon, I swear Sandburg knew this was going to happen hours ago. I
heard him talking to someone in the men's room earlier, and he
distinctly said 'Do you think that's why they were shot?'" 

"'Were' doesn't sound like a premonition to me," was the captain's
skeptical response. "And who was he talking to anyway, that he would
discuss something like that with?" 

"Well, I would have sworn he was talking to himself if it weren't for
that weird static--" 

"Static?" Simon looked suddenly alarmed. "Like those white noise
generators Brackett used on you?" 

Jim shook his head. "No, *this* I noticed. It was like...I don't know
how to put this, Simon, but it's like it wasn't really a sound." 

Banks shrugged with a sigh. "I still don't see how this is proof that
Sandburg's suddenly psychic." 

"How about the fact that Sandy sent me on an errand literally minutes
before that shot was fired?" Megan Connor contributed to the
conversation as she reached the two men. The Inspector folded her arms
across her chest and cast a thoughtful glance in Blair's direction. 

"What does that have to do with anything?" Simon was beginning to
sound exasperated, not to mention confused. 

"I checked the trajectory, Captain. If that bullet was titanium like
the one Zeller used before, there's a damn good chance it would have
gone through me too, if I'd been at my desk." 

"There, you see?" the detective pounced. 

The captain groaned. "Great. What is this, some new aspect of this
Sentinel business? Blair got his own spirit guide, now he gets his own
special powers?" 

Jim's eyes turned arctic. "I wouldn't know, Simon. I'm through with
'this Sentinel business,' remember?" 

"Oh, Jim," Megan whispered with a trace of reproach. 

//Aw, hell.// Simon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. //In all
the excitement, I forgot about that damned dissertation.// "Frankly, I
don't care how Sandburg did whatever it turns out he did. He saved
your life, Jim. And mine. I think that says a hell of a lot more than
any paper. Especially since what it says is something you already
know." 

Connor nodded. "I'll second that." 

The detective turned hesitantly to look at "Blair," who was still
standing across the room. His blue eyes thawed a bit and the tight
line of his jaw relaxed just a little. A twinge of regret twisted in
his stomach. //He saved your life...just like he did the day you met.
And countless times since then.// 

Megan gave him a light pat on the arm and turned away. She crossed the
bullpen to where Sam was sitting and struck up a conversation. After a
moment, Simon followed, leaving Jim alone with his thoughts. 
  

***Part VIII*** 

>>Major Crimes Bullpen 
>>Cascade PD 

"I'm still here, Al." 

The Observer nodded. "I noticed," he remarked wryly. 

Connor's voice interrupted before the Leaper could respond. "Well,
Sandy, it looks like I owe you one." 

"Re-really?" Sam stammered, blinking upwards from where he was sitting
into Megan's dancing eyes. Behind him, Al let out another low,
appreciative whistle and the Leaper fought the temptation to try to
slug the hologram. "Uh...one what?" 

She shrugged, balancing herself on the edge of a desk. "Oh, just one
sandwich errand that takes you out of the path of a bullet." 

The physicist allowed himself a sheepish, self-deprecating smile. "I
guess that was pretty good timing, wasn't it?" 

"So that's all it was, eh? Good timing?" Megan graced him with a
mischievous smirk. "I thought maybe that spirit guide of yours warned
you." 

Sam quirked an eyebrow at his incorporeal companion. "I guess you
could say that," he conceded with a grin that Al returned. 

"Spirit guide, huh? That's a new one. At least you didn't call me your
dog this time." 

"Sandburg," Simon barked as he reached them. His face and voice were
stern, but his eyes were dancing. "You ever yell at me like that in a
non-life-threatening situation and you'll be doing the paperwork for
the entire department, you hear me?" 

Sam stifled a grin. "Yes, sir." 

The taller man's face softened. "How are you doing?" 

The Leaper sighed with a glance over at Jim, who was still watching
him thoughtfully. //What do you want to bet he's hearing every word of
this conversation?// Megan's and Simon's eyes both followed his. 

"I'm ok...I guess." 

The captain laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "If there's
anything I can do..." 

Sam nodded. "I'll let you know. Look, uh...I'm going to head home, if
that's ok. I'll...see you guys later, I guess?" 

Megan smiled. "Count on it, Sandy." 

With a parting hug from the Inspector, he turned to leave. He was
almost to the elevator when a hand fell on his arm. 

"Sandburg, I..." 

Sam looked back into Jim's blue gaze, which was slightly warmer than
it had been since he Leaped in. 

The detective shrugged, looking a little abashed. He flashed the other
man a weak smile. "Thanks." 

("I think they can survive this,") Al's words came back to him. Sam
smiled as well, relieved. //Yeah, maybe they can.// 

"Any time, Jim." 

***** 

"...Ellison gets his privacy back, and the Police Department offers
Blair a permanent position as a detective to keep him around." 

Dr. Sam Beckett frowned at his Observer. "It sounds to me like Ziggy
was right after all--everything turned out all right the first time." 

Al nodded, grimacing. "Yeah, but that's not the end. This thing is so
close, Ziggy forgot to check beyond the events immediately following
the press conference. When he went back over the last few
months...well, it turns out the kid really wasn't cut out for police
work--at least, not official police work. He learns how to use a gun,
but he never picks up the habit of carrying it, and six months down
the line..." 

Here the Observer paused, his expression deeply shaken by the
potential fate of the young Visitor. "He gets killed in a robbery he
probably could have prevented if he'd had his weapon on him." 

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam whispered. 

Al nodded but pressed on. "Ellison never gets over his partner's
death. He loses control over his senses and ends up committed to a
mental hospital. Major Crimes suffers too, for daring to accept a
confessed fraud into their ranks. Simon gets a dishonorable discharge
from the force, Taggart and a couple of the other guys get demoted,
Connor is recalled to New South Wales, and the division is currently
going through a reorganization that is almost guaranteed to make it
much less effective." 

The Leaper let out a deep sigh and ran one frustrated hand through his
hair. "Ok, but what still I don't understand is if I'm here to prevent
Blair from having to declare himself a fraud to protect his partner,
why didn't I just Leap in before the manuscript got publicized in the
first place?" 

"Got me, Kid." Al smacked the handlink, studied it for a moment, then
shrugged. "Huh. Ziggy says there's a seventy-five percent chance
you're supposed to see that the paper *does* get published, only
without putting either Sandburg or Ellison in danger." 

"What?! How is that possible? You said in the original history the
reporters only backed off after Blair denounced the paper as fiction--
!" The physicist stopped himself suddenly mid-rant, an amazed look
coming over his face. "Al, that's it!" 

***** 

>>Back at the Project 

"So, what happened?" Blair demanded of the older man as soon as Al
stepped through the door into the Waiting Room. "Did Sam stop Zeller
from shooting Simon and Megan?" 

The Observer looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, yeah he did. They're going
to be fine." 

"That's great!" Sandburg grinned. The euphoria was momentary, though.
His smile faded as he realized what was missing from that success.
"But I'm still here. Which means Sam's still there. Why?" 

Al closed his eyes. //Aw, hell. After all the assurances I gave him
about his dissertation, how am I supposed to tell him that *is* the
problem?// 

He didn't need to. Blair heard the answer in his silence. 

"So, he is there to fix my mistake," the young man deduced quietly. He
looked devastated. 

The Admiral sighed. "Blair...can I tell you a story?" 

The anthropologist shrugged. "Sure," he replied, forcing himself to
sound casual. "I don't have anything better to do." 

The older man took a seat beside the younger one and looked him
straight in the eyes. Brown studied blue, assessing the damage
Sandburg had inflicted on himself with his guilt. 

"We have a rule, here, at Project Quantum Leap. No matter how much we
want to, we can't change our own past. Now, that's not always a rule
we've kept, but it exists for a very good reason. A reason that I
learned the hard way when I made a very big mistake. You see, Sam had
leaped into a cop in San Diego in 1969--the year my first wife left me
while I was MIA in Vietnam." 

Blair let out a little gasp of sympathy. "Oh, man, I'm sorry." 

Al nodded, his eyes black with the memory. "I came home to an empty
house. It hurt like hell and I never forgot that pain. So, when I
found out Sam was in the same city as her, only months before she left
me...I told him he was there to keep the wife of a missing soldier
from giving him up for dead and remarrying." 

"Your wife," the young man deduced. 

The Admiral nodded again. "Yeah, my wife. Which Sam would have known
the minute I said anything if not for the fact that this time travel
business pokes holes in his mind like a confetti puncher. A fact I
knew and took advantage of." 

"What happened?" Blair asked. 

"Sam trusted me. He listened to me, and he did everything he could to
keep her from giving up on her missing husband. Then one day he was
over at her house and he saw a picture of me on the mantel. And he
knew I'd lied to him." 

"Ouch." 

"He knew that I'd betrayed his trust and tried to break one of our
most important rules. He told me he couldn't do what I wanted him to
do, and demanded that I ask Ziggy why he was really there. It turned
out he wasn't there for me at all, but to save this cop's partner from
walking into a trap and getting killed." 

The young anthropologist sucked his breath in sharply. 

Al watched him with a knowing eye. //He may not be a cop, but he sure
as hell knows what it means to have a partner.// 

"Thankfully, Sam got there in time," the Observer continued. "But I
still felt like hell. I let him down. He's my best friend; I'm the
only way he has of finding out what he's supposed to do wherever--
whenever--he is, and I used that to manipulate him. I betrayed his
trust in the worst possible way I could, and almost left him stranded
in the past because of it. I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd ordered
me off the Project and replaced me with an Observer he knew could
trust." 

"Damn," Blair murmured, shaken. As Al had hoped, the story was hitting
close to home. 

"But you know what, Kid?" 

Blue eyes rose again to meet his with a trace of hope. 

"Sam didn't do that. Yeah, when he first found out he was pretty
angry. He even told me that if I left at that moment, I didn't need to
bother coming back. But after it was over, when we'd both had a chance
to calm down and look at the situation rationally...he forgave me.
Even though he wasn't supposed to get Beth back for me, he did give me
something I didn't have thirty years ago--a chance to say goodbye to
her." //A chance to touch her...though God only knows how that miracle
was pulled off.// 

"Beth?" Sandburg sounded confused. "But isn't that the woman--" 

Al smiled. "That's the surprise twist ending. Three years later, Sam
gave up the one thing he wanted most--a chance to come home--to go
back and do what he couldn't do then. He held onto Beth for me, until
I could come home for her. He gave me the life I always wanted thirty
years after it was too late." 

"That's...wow, that's incredible." 

"Yeah, it is." //Even though I could kill him for making that
choice.// "But that's what friends do, Kid. That's what you were
willing to do for Jim by deep-sixing your dissertation, and believe it
or not, he'd do the same for you. No matter how badly you think you've
screwed up, if you just hold on and fight for it until the hurt is
past, the friendship will survive." 

"Thank you," Blair whispered. 

"There's one other thing--don't forget you're both only human. None of
us are perfect, not me, not you, not Sam, not even Jim." 

The younger man chuckled. "Don't I know it." 

"So don't put him on a pedestal, and don't hold yourself up to an
impossible standard. Let him be human, let yourself be human." Al
smirked. "And if you have any trouble knocking some sense into that
partner of yours, give me a call. He may be in the wrong branch of the
service, but I can still pull rank." 

Blair grinned brightly. "Thanks, Al." 


***Part IX*** 

>>The loft 

Sam finished the final page of Blair's thesis and sighed deeply. On
his other knee was a pad of paper, where he'd begun jotting down the
idea he'd had. 

//Ziggy's right--this paper does deserve to be published. It's good.
And it's not right that he should be forced to choose between the
recognition he deserves and the friend he'd give his life to
protect.// An image of Al flashed into Sam's mind and he shuddered. He
didn't even want to think what it would be like to have to make that
kind of choice. 

("If you had to choose between a Nobel Prize and someone you cared
about,") the Observer's words echoed in his thoughts. ("You would do
it in a second. You and the kid have a lot in common that way.") 

He realized how lucky he'd been with his own doctoral work, especially
in physics. Even though his string theory was every bit as sensational
as Blair's sentinel research, it couldn't hurt anyone. Until the day
he'd decided to put that theory to the ultimate test, it hadn't
touched anyone's life but his and maybe Al's. And now that it affected
so many more...well, he had to admit it was for the better, as much as
he wanted to give it all up and go home. 

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Will you ever forgive me for making such
a mess of things?" 

Sam looked up at the sound of Naomi's voice and forced a hesitant
smile. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay...Mom." Reaching out one hand, he patted
hers. "We're...we're all going to be fine." 

She sighed. "Do you still love me even with all this?" 

The physicist blinked, startled. Was Naomi Sandburg really so insecure
in her relationship with her son? Setting down both the dissertation
and the pad, he stood and smiled warmly at her. "Mom, come on. You
know me better than that." 

He held his arms out to her and she stepped into his embrace with a
grateful smile. //Which one's the parent and which one's the child,
here?// Sam wondered ruefully. 

Naomi sighed again. "I'm sorry." 

"Of course I love you," Sam promised in a sincere, quiet voice. "Would
you stop loving me because of one little mistake?" 

"Oh, honey, of course not." 

"So why should I do that to you? We were all doing what we thought was
right. Right? Maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe there's
something we're all supposed to learn from it. And I think I know
what." 

"And what's that, Blair?" 

He released her with a comforting squeeze of the shoulder. "Why don't
you go call Sid, and I'll tell you both at the same time?" 

Naomi nodded. "Okay, sweetie." 

***** 

>>Back at the Project 

"Look, Kid..." Al took a deep breath before proceeding. "If you
remember anything once we send you back...look me up sometime. Let me
know how you're getting along." 

Blair smiled a bright, genuine smile that the older man fervently
hoped his best friend would be able to preserve. "Thanks. I really
appreciate that." 

"Just one thing--" 

"Yeah?" 

The man who had once been a father's nightmare now shook a fatherly
finger at the young anthropologist. "You lay a finger on one of my
girls, and even your friend Ellison won't be able to count the number
of stitches you need. You hear me?" 

"Whoah, man, chill," Blair laughed. "I promise, okay?" 

Al chuckled in return. "Don't you know it's a father's duty to protect
his daughters from young men who remind him of his own misspent
youth?" 

"I'll remember that if I ever have kids," the anthropologist joked. He
paused thoughtfully. "Al, do I--?" 

The Observer shrugged. "Hell if I know. You're only a year behind us
here, remember?" 

The Visitor nodded. "A year behind...wait, that means you won't know
me for a year." 

"Once you get back to your own time, yeah. I won't." 

"That sucks. I was really looking forward to taking you up on that
offer." 

Al chuckled. "Hell, do it anyway. Tell me I said for you to look me
up--I shouldn't have too much trouble figuring out the rest." 

***** 

The room was packed with reporters by the time Sam came in. The Leaper
took another deep, quaking breath. 

"Don't sweat it, Sam, you'll do fine," Al reassured his friend's
unspoken concern. "You were nervous as hell when you accepted the
Nobel Prize, but once you got up there, there wasn't a person in that
room who woulda known it. Except me." The hologram smirked. 

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Al," he whispered softly, just as someone
gestured for him to approach the podium. He did so, shuffling the
notes he didn't really need and leaning forward into the mike. 

"Hi. Thank you all for coming. I just have a short speech prepared
here. Um... In our media-informed culture, a scientist receives
validation by having his or her work published and after years of
research there is great personal satisfaction when that goal is
reached. However, there's been a serious mistake, for which I accept
full responsibility. The paper which was released to you is *not* my
dissertation." 

Sam took another deep breath and let it out before plunging ahead. 

"In all my years of research into the history and legends surrounding
the concept of Sentinels, I was never able to find a test subject, a
modern-day Sentinel whose abilities I would be able to observe first-
hand. So, I changed the subject of my doctoral thesis to a study of
the anthropological sub-culture of law enforcement. In order to
research this new dissertation, I was assigned as an observer to the
Cascade Police Department, and as an unofficial partner to Detective
James Ellison. 

"In Detective Ellison, I found all the traits that would make a good
Sentinel--a strong sense of honor, a commitment to protecting the
innocent--except for the heightened senses. Since I had never quite
dealt with the necessity of abandoning my original thesis, I began to
imagine how that paper would have taken shape if I had found a
Sentinel." 

Sam lifted his eyes to look directly into the camera, hoping Blair's
partner was watching somewhere. "The manuscript you have been led to
believe is my thesis, 'The Sentinel,' is actually the first draft of a
novel. The central character is not Jim Ellison but a fictional
amalgamation of my work with him and my Sentinel research. However,
having very little experience in writing fiction, I chose to name the
characters after the real people who had inspired them until I could
think of something better. I apologize for the misunderstanding. My
only hope is that I can be forgiven for the pain I've caused those
that are close to me. Thank you." 

"Sam, you did it!" Al crowed. "It takes a little work on Blair's part,
but he not only convinces the press that his thesis *is* a novel, he
actually rewrites it *as* a novel and it becomes an instant
bestseller. And get this--" The hologram grinned. "He changes Jim's
name in the book to Sam." 

Smiling broadly, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped down from the podium, out of
the room, and out of Blair Sandburg's life in a flash of light. 

***** 

Back in the Major Crimes division of the Cascade Police Department, a
group of officers sat in stunned silence before the television,
absorbing the words they'd just heard. 

When the eerie quiet showed no signs of ending, Captain Simon Banks
shook his head and spoke in a voice too low for anyone but Jim to
hear: "Damn. I always knew the kid was good at obfuscation, but that
beats everything I've ever heard come out of his mouth." 

A very pensive Jim Ellison nodded. //And he saved my neck. Again.// He
stood. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen...I need to go see a man about
a book." 

***** 

>>The loft 
>>A little while later 

Blair stared at the notebook where it lay in front of him on the
dining room table. The first page, which he had folded under,
contained the speech he had given at the press conference. Part of
him still marveled at the words that had come out of his own mouth.
What on earth had given him the idea to call his dissertation "the
first draft of a novel"? 

Of course, it wasn't a bad idea. In fact, it was probably a much
better idea than what he'd briefly considered doing, which was to
denounce the paper as academic fraud. 

<Now I just have to figure out how to make people believe it,> he
decided. That was why he was staring down at a blank piece of paper,
with his hands clenched and a firm set to his jaw. If there had been
a mirror anywhere in the vicinity of the table, he probably would
have laughed at how reminiscent the unconscious mannerism was of Jim
at his most determined. 

His right hand fiddled with a pen, bringing it up to his mouth to
uncap it. With the cap still clamped between his teeth, he brought
the ballpoint back to the paper and scratched out a first line: 

"Draft Dr. Lake as a co-conspirator." 

That was an absolute necessity, he decided as he removed the cap
from his mouth with his left hand. Dr. Lake had seen the early
chapters of the dissertation, and was the one person who could blow
this plan to hell if he wanted to. Thankfully, Blair was certain that
his thesis advisor could be trusted. 

Pursing his lips, he let out a low, almost whistling breath and
stared at the page again. A few moments of thought later, he
scribbled down another "to do" item: 

"Figure out fictional names for Jim, me, Simon, Megan, Joel, Rafe,
Brown, etc..." 

On impulse, he brought the pen down to the next line and wrote under
Jim's name, "Sam." 

//Sam? Where'd that come from?// Frowning, Blair reached up to draw
a line through the name, but paused. //Actually... that would work.
It sounds a little bit like 'Jim,' has some of the same vocal
nuances...// 

Figuring out a fictional name for himself would be harder. He'd have
to be careful not to choose something that might invite teasing from
the guys in Major Crimes. Not that any of them were probably students
of Etymology or Onomastics, but on the off chance that someone might
know if a name sounded particularly self-aggrandizing-- 

"Hey. Thought I might find you here." Jim circled the table slowly
and seated himself in a chair opposite the younger man. The smile he
offered him was subdued, but not forced or angry or hurt, as most of
their interaction lately had been. 

Blair looked up at his partner, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, um...I
didn't know where else to go. If you want, I can--" he gestured
towards the door. 

"No, I don't want you to leave." Ellison's hand somehow found its
way to Sandburg's forearm, where it fastened with a firm but gentle
grip. When he could tell that the younger man was going to acquiesce
and stay put, the detective loosened that hold just a little. 

He looked Blair straight in the eyes, his own eyes just as subdued
as his smile. "I saw your press conference." 

"Oh, yeah, you saw it?" the anthropologist repeated lamely. Wow, if
his press conference had inspired this reaction, what would Jim have
done if he'd gone with the fraud idea? He suppressed a shiver and
shrugged. "It's just a book." 

"It was your life." 

"And I've still got it," Blair pointed out. "Albeit in a slightly
altered form." 

Jim inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, and the younger
man continued. "But this way...this way I don't have to choose
between your life and mine. Like I said, this isn't just about a
research project anymore. It hasn't been almost since the beginning.
It's been about friendship, and that's what I don't want to lose. The
dissertation I can live without, hell, even the doctorate if the
University won't let me start over." 

There was a long pause as the detective regarded his friend. "You
really think this'll work?" he asked hopefully. 

"I'll make it work," Sandburg promised. "Besides, uh...I mean, where
I get off following you around for three years pretending I was a
cop, right?" 

"You might have been just an observer, but you were the best cop
I've ever met and the best partner I could have ever asked for.
You've been a great friend and you've pulled me through some pretty
weird stuff." 

An Observer...Blair smiled, not knowing why he now capitalized the
word in his mind. "Thanks." His fingers tightened around the notepad.
"Jim...I know I used to joke about it...about my paper. Like that
stupid remark I made once about movie rights when you were in the
hospital. If anything I said ever led you to believe I would do
something like that to you, expose you like that...I'm sorry. I'm so
sorry." 

The detective frowned, thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe it did.
But I seem to recall you also saying once that you had enough
material for ten dissertations, but you were stalling on finishing it
because you wanted to stick around." He smiled again. "I think I'm
the one who made the mistake here, Chief. I assumed the worst when
everything I know about you should have told me otherwise." 

Sandburg nodded, relieved. 

His smile warming a little, Jim patted his partner's arm. "So, are
you ready to get back to work?" 

A delicious shock ran through the younger man at those words. His
own smile broadened as he flipped the notebook closed and lifted it
to stuff in a deep flannel pocket. 

"Hey, man, I thought you'd never ask!" 

Chuckling, the Sentinel rose from his place at the table and crossed
to the door. 

("No matter how badly you think you've screwed up, if you just hold
on and fight for it until the hurt is past, the friendship will
survive.") Blair shook his head, bewildered by the memory. Especially
since he couldn't recall who'd spoken those words to him. 

Jim turned back in the doorway, his voice light. "You coming or not,
Chief?" 

Oh well. It didn't really matter who had said it. All that mattered
was that the words were proving true. He grinned into the once-again-
friendly blue gaze of his roommate. 

"Right behind you, partner." 
  

FIN