


The Best Laid Plans

by dramatic owl



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Family, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2013-11-24 04:06:15
Rating: T
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9795835/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1222136/dramatic-owl
Summary: Things didn't go exactly as planned. AU, canon divergence post-'The Leap Back', written for the DW trope bingo challenge.





	The Best Laid Plans

**Disclaimer:** None of it belongs to me. Just this story.

**trope_bingo Trope:** role reversal

**Summary:** AU, canon divergence post-'The Leap Back'. Things didn't go exactly as planned.

* * *

**THE BEST LAID PLANS**

Seeking solitude and solace in the beauty of the desert night Sam had left the confines of his office in the underground complex that housed Project Quantum Leap and come up topside. But neither the stunning New Mexico landscape nor the bracing cold air was a balm for the depression and the sense of guilt that threatened to smother him. He'd brought a jacket with him – the temperature dropped considerably after the sun went down – but he'd set it down on the flat rock he was sitting on instead of wearing it, choosing to shiver as he stared unseeing into the distance and brooded.

Four years ago he made a choice. Pressured to prove his theories, threatened with the loss of funding and the imminent failure of his life's work, he made the decision that it was worth risking everything – his life, his family, his friends – to show those damned bureaucrats in Washington that Quantum Leap worked. So he stepped into the accelerator and launched himself through time.

But he never considered the price the people he left behind would pay.

He'd left Al here to deal with the committee alone and to navigate a constantly changing set of rules. When he first returned home he'd wanted to kick his friend's butt for not reminding him that he had a wife. Now he stared up at the heavens and wondered how Donna could have tasked Al with keeping such a secret from him, how she could stand him not remembering.

The stars were brilliant against the inky blackness of the sky. It wasn't long ago that he was curled around Donna, holding her close and sharing this view with her. Now she was lost in time, taking his place just as he'd taken Al's.

Nothing could have prepared him for that first encounter in the waiting room. Al tried, initially volunteering to handle the leapee himself so Sam wouldn't have to go through that, then warning him about what to expect when he insisted. But it didn't ease the shock. It was his beloved's face he saw, but the look in her eyes was all wrong; it was her body dressed in the Fermi suit, but her movements and gestures, the inflection of her voice, all of it was dissonant and unfamiliar. He was looking at a stranger wearing Donna's face as a mask, reacting to him with fear and confusion, and he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

He didn't remember leaving the waiting room or walking to the men's room. At some point he became conscious of leaning over the sink splashing cold water on his face and then Al was standing outside when he finally emerged, waiting to walk him home.

"I set all this in motion," was all he said when Al rested a supportive hand on his back and asked if he was okay.

How many different souls would peer out at him through her eyes before it was finally Donna looking at him again? It made him heartsick.

She had successfully completed her first two leaps with very little help and support. No two people were more different than Donna and Al, so it wasn't a surprise that they weren't at all compatible as leaper and observer. When Al failed to make contact Gooshie scrambled to hook Sam's neurons and mesons up with hers. But Sam could only make audio contact and talk her through certain parts of the leap. He never made visual contact.

Remaining calm for her sake in those moments was one of the most enormous challenges of his life. Inside he was fraying at the seams; and when the crisis was over he nearly dissolved into a puddle on the floor of the imaging chamber.

Despite his distress and his grief over the situation, Sam was truly proud of the way she'd handled herself and impressed with her courage. She spent several hours alone in that first difficult leap before they finally got in contact. He'd at least been able to see as well as talk to Al. All Donna had was the sound of his disembodied voice. It had to be disconcerting, frightening for her, and he was even more limited in what he could do for her than Al had been.

But he'd always known she was a remarkable woman.

Hers wasn't a reckless leap either, not like his first leap. When he went to work on it again he discovered that she'd tinkered further with the updated retrieval program, coming up with an interesting theory on why it hadn't worked before and making the adjustments. And although it still failed this time, the odds had improved. Sam could see the flaw in it, yet the flaw was a breakthrough; incredibly her error had opened a door to a plausible solution and he knew for certain that they were close to making it work now.

There was a little bit of an upside to this mess at least.

Hearing the crunch of footsteps off to his right he knew without looking that it was his friend coming to check if he was okay. Al approached and sat down on the rock beside him but didn't say anything. He just removed a cigar from the pocket of his jacket and Sam heard the soft crinkling of the wrapper then the match being struck.

"Forgot. You can smell it now," Al said apologetically at Sam's annoyed glance, but he made no move to put it out.

He laughed harshly. "You shouldn't be smoking in the imaging chamber either."

Al brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "Nice night."

"Yeah, it is."

"Kind of cold."

Sam didn't respond.

"Good thing you've got your jacket to keep the rock warm there—"

"I'm fine, Al," he said with an impatient sigh. "And you don't have to stay out here if you're cold."

Al puffed on his cigar, his face inscrutable in the moonless night. Sam turned away and gazed into the distance. A car was heading in their direction from somewhere far off.

"Listen, Sam. Ziggy confirmed that Verbena Beeks is a compatible match. Gooshie got the neural link between her and Donna all set up, so she'll be able to make full contact with her in the imaging chamber when she lands again. So, you know—I know you're worried but—"

Thinking of it again made Sam's heart twist and with a groan he bent forward and dropped his head into his hands. "I can't believe she did it, Al."

He didn't even know that Donna's neural link with Ziggy had been implemented. When the project was in its early stages they planned to have multiple leapers taking turns once everything was up and running. He knew Donna was as eager to time travel as he was. But they never completed the process of linking her, either with the hybrid computer or with an observer, not before he left anyway. Something else Al hadn't shared with him.

Sam lifted his head and sat up straight, pushing off that thought. He wasn't being fair. As tempting as it was he couldn't blame his friend. He was the one responsible, not Al. This man had been an anchor through it all, walking a constant tightrope deciding what he could or couldn't reveal to Sam, standing by him through thick and thin, supporting him before, during and after his leaping. He'd managed the entire project. How could Al have possibly known what Donna was going to do? _He_ hadn't seen it coming, and she was his wife.

Al pensively examined the smoke curling up from the end of his cigar then he said softly, "She couldn't bear to be left behind anymore."

"Yes," Sam said quietly, blinking back threatening tears. His heart ached over it. "I realize that."

Though they didn't exchange parts of their minds the way he and Al had, there was a moment while they were changing places when their minds were one and he understood. Donna wasn't trying to switch places with him; she was trying to leap to where he was in a desperate effort to bring him home with her. But like everything else about his project it didn't work as planned. She stayed back in 1965 in the aura and life of a ballerina named Nina Kent, the target of a dangerously obsessed fan; and he found himself in the accelerator chamber again.

He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. "It's my fault."

"No, it's mine."

"What?" Sam stared at him, bewildered. He'd never outwardly impugned Al, though inside he had struggled with it. It never occurred to him that Al blamed himself all on his own. "How is it your fault?"

"I'm the one who screwed up that leap in 1945. And then I couldn't be there to stop her." His shoulders sagged. "Any more than I could be there to stop you," he added quietly.

Sam shook his head. "You didn't screw up the leap, Al. We weren't expecting you to be a leaper so we never loaded anything between 1934 and 1953 into Ziggy's databanks, not until after the simo-leap. It was already late when Ziggy finally had all of the information and extrapolated what you needed to do. We didn't have time to figure it out. Besides, I should've had the foresight—"

"Aw, Sam, now you're gonna start blaming yourself for not being a psychic? You couldn't have predicted this any more than I could've. Both of you should've just stayed put."

There was sorrow and something else in Al's voice.

"Al, I wasn't going to let you die."

"You finally got home to her after four years—"

"I was not going to leave you to die at the bottom of a cliff back in 1945," he insisted, appalled that Al could even suggest it. "Ziggy calculated the odds of your survival at zero percent. Zero, Al. When I stepped into the accelerator four years ago I knew what I was risking and it was my choice. It was one thing to make that choice for myself—"

"And you think I wouldn't?" Al exclaimed passionately. "You think that if it came down to me leaping on so you could have a break, so you could be home with your wife, that I wouldn't have done it willingly?"

Sam laid a hand on Al's shoulder and a thrill shot through his fingers, his hand and up his arm at the contact. With everything that had happened since Donna leaped and bumped him back to the project he hadn't had time to fully absorb that he and his best friend weren't holograms to each other anymore. After four years of reaching out to Al and finding only thin air it was still a shock to feel his friend's muscle and bone beneath his palm. And it was a great comfort too.

But the reunion was bittersweet. Overjoyed as he was to be able to just sit with Al and talk the way they used to again, without worrying about a leap, he wished dearly that he didn't have to trade Donna for it.

"I know you would've, Al," he said gently. "But we didn't have a working retrieval program. Targeted leaping was the only way to get you out of there alive. So I don't want to ever hear you say we should have left you there, or blaming yourself for any of it. And I definitely don't want you feeling sorry for yourself."

"Fair enough," he replied with a grimace. "But it's not your fault either, Sam. And you didn't choose this time. She did." He paused, thoughtful. "Maybe that's what's eating you too."

Sam regarded him with both fondness and irritation. Al had a knack for hitting the nail on the head. He knew him too well, sometimes better than he knew himself. Often it was helpful and a comfort; other times it infuriated him.

"But I think Donna wanted you to have a break, too. We all did. After that leap to Havenwell—"

Al cut himself off with a wince and clamped the cigar between his teeth again. Sam squeezed his shoulder reassuringly then let his hand drop.

"I don't really have any memory of that leap, Al. I know what happened. And it's in there but…it's like I'm looking at it from far away."

He stared off into space, searching for words.

"Like it happened to someone else," he said distantly.

"You really need the rest, Sam. You've earned several lifetimes worth of vacations."

"Al, I…" Sam trailed off and lowered his head, uncomfortable. A torrent of emotion threatened to drown him; the words were hard to say. "It's not easy. Standing by, I mean, not being able to really do much. Waiting and wondering."

"No, it isn't," Al agreed bluntly.

"I don't know how you coped with it, Al. How any of you coped with it."

He shrugged, took his cigar out of his mouth and tapped the thread of ash off the end. "I had to cope so I coped. You will too if you have to. But you won't have to. Bena and me will deal with all the leapees in the waiting room while you get the retrieval program working. Donna never went in there either."

Sam nodded. He understood that.

"We'll have to hire another psychiatrist for the project now. Bena will need backup if so much of her time is occupied being an observer, and she'll need some support of her own. Donna's her friend, too."

"I'll start that process tomorrow morning. It'll take time to find someone, get them clearance. Bena will want to interview them too."

"Yeah." He hesitated and averted his gaze. "Al—I never would've believed I'd say this, but—I think I actually miss leaping."

With trepidation he peered up at his friend again.

"That's not surprising. You're a terminal Boy Scout. You probably would've gone on forever trying to save everybody. Besides, I'm sure it's more exciting to be out there leaping than back here working behind the scenes."

It wasn't exactly the reply he was expecting.

"You know, Sam, you can always leap again if you want to that badly. But maybe next time you could do it _after_ the retrieval program is working." He gave him a meaningful look. "That way you can come home every time."

They were quiet again, both staring out at the endless blanket of stars. Sam imagined Donna, wherever and whenever she landed, seeing the same stars in the sky and it eased his disquiet just a little. Maybe she would still remember him this leap, though she would be working with a new observer. He could only hope.

"She was trying to bring me home with her," he murmured, breaking the silence after a long time. "But things didn't go as planned."

"They never do," Al grunted.

"She's already really good at it, Al. Leaping, I mean."

"Well, she always wanted to leap too. And I'm sure she was prepared."

He looked at him askance. "Prepared?"

"This is Donna we're talking about, Sam. She's level-headed. She wouldn't just run off half-cocked and jump into a nuclear accelerator. That's more your style."

Sam glowered at him but Al ignored it, occupied with mashing out the cigar he'd finished and shoving the stub into a pocket to discard later when he passed a trashcan.

"You said she did some good work on the updated retrieval program before she left. She's meticulous. I bet she's been planning this for a while and we just didn't know it. Well—maybe that billion dollar cyber-nozzle you built knew it, but unless someone thought to specifically ask the question 'is Donna planning to leap' Ziggy wouldn't have told anyone. Anyway, you can be sure that before Donna stepped into the accelerator everything was worked out down to the last detail and she knew she had better odds."

"They still weren't good enough," Sam lamented. "And now she's trapped in time. I am responsible, Al, at least partly. I set all this in motion. I'm responsible for her, what happens to her."

"Well, then what the hell are you doing out here in the cold moping for, Sam?" Al thumped him on the back. "Get your butt back to work on that retrieval program."

Sam scowled and punched him in the arm. It wasn't a hard punch but the sensation of his fist sinking into Al's flesh was satisfying. He hated it when Al told him what to do or told him things he already knew.

And he'd been working day and night. He just couldn't stand to be stuck in that office anymore. The room became more and more suffocating and claustrophobic for him with every passing moment.

"All I'm saying is that sitting here feeling sorry for yourself won't bring her home."

"I know that, Al," he said petulantly. "And I'm not moping. It's just not going well right now. I came up for some air."

"Don't you have a portable laptop? Why don't you just work up here if you don't like being cooped up in the office? Or work at your house."

Al stared at him pointedly and Sam dipped his head, feeling transparent.

"Nobody knows this project inside and out better than you, Sam." His voice was gentle now, reassuring. "Now that you're here to fix the retrieval program yourself, we'll have Donna home before you know it. And hey, there is a bright side."

Sam looked at him expectantly, hopeful at the levity in Al's tone.

"At least she spared you the indignity of wearing that little pink tutu."

Al smirked, a spark of impish mischief in his eyes. Sam slowly shook his head and began to chuckle softly.

"Too bad you couldn't see yourself, Sam—Anna Pavlova on steroids, unshaved legs—"

Sam's laughter was easy, unstrained now, and the heaviness inside began to lift. He leaned over abruptly and wrapped his arm around Al, grappling him in a light headlock.

"Hey—"

"Al!" he gasped playfully, eyes wide. "I can do this now!" He tightened his hold, feigning as if he would choke-hold him. "You know how many times I wanted to do this for the last few years and couldn't?"

"Hah," Al retorted. "You know how many times I wanted to kick your butt and couldn't?" He was smiling though.

Still laughing, Sam released him. He sighed as the laughter ebbed, filled with a sense of relief.

"Al, I really love you."

Al rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're gonna get all mushy, Sam, I'm definitely going inside." But he looked pleased as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I'm already freezing my butt off anyway."

"Then what did you stay out here for?"

"So you'd have the company."

He grinned and started back toward the project complex. Sam smiled with fond amusement as he watched him go. After a minute he grabbed his jacket and scrabbled to his feet.

"Al, wait up," he called out, hurrying after him.

Sam caught up and draped an affectionate arm around Al's shoulders. "Come on. Coffee's on me."

Al slipped his arm around his waist and clapped him on the back. "Thanks, pal, but I wouldn't call that sludge the project vending machine serves up coffee."

"No, real coffee, at my house."

There was a glint in Al's eye but he just nodded, holding back whatever crack may have been on the tip of his tongue.

"I figure I'll need a lot of it. We're gonna do it, Al. We're gonna get her back."

Al patted his back. "You bet we are."


End file.
