


Leaping into Death

by Yva J



Category: Quantum Leap, Touched by an Angel
Genre: Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-04
Updated: 2007-10-05
Packaged: 2013-10-23 06:21:30
Rating: T
Chapters: 24
Words: 61,941
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3183195/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/975487/Yva-J
Summary: When Dr. Sam Beckett leaps into Andrew, the Angel of Death, he is reunited with an old friend.





	1. Prologue

_This story is something I started writing before I had even heard that there were 'Quantum Leap' novels out there. It was also started after watching the episode from season 2 entitled 'Another Mother', where Sam leaps into a divorced mother of 3. The youngest could see him and Al for who they were. Since I really liked the episode, I decided that I wanted to write a story as a sequel of sorts, all the while not even knowing or realizing that a book had been published in 1997 about the character of Teresa Brucker. I decided that since this is fan fiction and I'm making nada on it, I would go ahead and start a story crossing those concepts with 'Touched by an Angel', one of my other favorite shows._

_As for the leapee...I figured that if Sam can leap into Apes, then he can also leap into an Angel of Death. This is fiction...what can I say? A lot of stories have been written, but I don't think anything like this has ever been done, hence the title._

_I hope that you enjoy the story, and since this is the first time I'm posting in this section, I hope that you will be kind if you decide to leave a review. All general disclaimers apply._

_Thanks._

_Edited, October 4, thanks to Barefootchick for finding the misspelled word here!_

* * *

**Leaping into Death**

A _Touched by An Angel / Quantum Leap _Crossover

By: Yva J.

**Prologue, Arizona 1996**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

**New Mexico, 1999**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's called the 'waiting room'," Al explained. "What's the last thing you remember before coming here?"

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

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

"I don't have one," Andrew said as though that is the most natural thing in the world.

"You don't have one or you don't remember it?" Al asked. "There's a difference you know."

"I realize that, but I'm telling you the truth, I don't have one," Andrew said.

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

"March 2, 1996," Andrew said.

"Do you remember anything else?" Al asked.

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

"Why do you say that?"

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

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

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

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

"No," came the almost immediate response.

"So, do you want to tell you why it is you're not, as you say, 'typical'?"

"I generally should not," Andrew began.

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

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

"An angel?" Al asked.

"Yes," emerged the firm answer.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" He asked.

"It's not a matter of you supposing to do anything."

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

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

"How did you know about that?" Al asked.

"I told you, I'm an angel," Andrew said.

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

"Claiming doesn't even begin to describe it," Andrew said.

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

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

"OK, give it your best shot," Al responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't bet on it, Admiral Calavicci," Andrew said without missing a beat.

"Alright, if you're an angel like you say, then what sort of angel are you?" Al asked.

"I'm an Angel of Death."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


	3. Chapter 2

_The next chapter will be longer. I just didn't want to overwhelm you. _

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

**Arizona 1996**

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

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

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

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

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

"When?" She asked.

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

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

"N-no, I'm fine," he hedged.

"Are you sure?" The woman asked.

"Yes, I'm sure, but if I do need to talk, I'll let you know," he said.

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

"Yes?"

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

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

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

"Assignment?" Sam muttered.

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

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

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

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

Monica nodded as the car abruptly lurched to a stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


	4. Chapter 3

_a/n: I really am sorry that it has taken me so long to update this story. With life being a bit crazy during the last weeks, I have been unable to really sit down and work on writing at all. Hopefully, this is now a thing of the past and I can hopefully keep the updates coming at least one every week or at worst, one every two weeks._

_Again, my apologies for not being as quick about updating this story. I do want the chapters to be well written and formatted before posting them...but that's just the way I am._

_Enjoy, and reviews are appreciated. _

* * *

**Chapter 3**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know you don't," Al said. "But, I'm seriously starting to."

"You can't be serious," Sam reasoned. "I need more to go on than just that."

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

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

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

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

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

"Al," Sam snapped warningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What sorts of things?"

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

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

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

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

"That hasn't been proven," Al countered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You watch too many movies."

"No, I'm just being logical, Sam," Al said defensively.

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

"You got a surname on that Melanie?" Al asked.

"Yes, Stevenson," Sam offered freely. "Does that help?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can say that again, Sam thought sarcastically.

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

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

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


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

**New Mexico, 1999**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…I don't, I never said that," Andrew objected, thus interrupting him.

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

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

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

"No," Andrew whispered. "Don't you even believe in God?"

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

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

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

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

"He doesn't know how," Andrew muttered.

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

"What is it you want to know?" Andrew asked.

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

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

"Why?" Al asked.

Andrew took a deep breath. "It's difficult."

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

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

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

"Why didn't you?" Al asked. "You just sat there and let her kill herself?"

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

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

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

Al rested his hand on Andrew's shoulder. "I didn't mean it that way."

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

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

Andrew cringed as he looked at Al. "You don't believe anything I tell you, do you?"

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

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

"Teresa?" Al's face suddenly lost all color.

"You know her?" Andrew asked.

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

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

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

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

"Is Teresa in some kind of trouble?" Al asked. "Is that what you're telling me?"

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

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

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

"If I find out you're stringing me along…" Al threatened.

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

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

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

"Yes, Admiral," the distorted voice of the computer emerged.

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

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

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

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

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

"No," the computer responded almost immediately.

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

The room settled into an awkward silence until the computer spoke. "23.8, Admiral."

"Then why is he there?" Al asked.

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


	6. Chapter 5

_Before you tell me that I'm off my rocker with my description of this place. Much of this actually comes from a real hotel I visited when I was a kid of about 13 or so. This is entirely based on some memories that are about 23-24-years-old (I just gave away my age). At any rate, the hotel had been converted from something of that nature into a hotel. Seems odd, but it is very true, and in some small towns, I imagine they don't have the funds to do a complete renovation, as in the case here. _

_At any rate, my sincerest apologies for keeping all of you hanging for over a month on this new chapter. I have been so tied up with my new book, that my fan fiction writing has been somewhat sparse. I will try and put some time on this story, and it will eventually be finished. It is, after all, fun to write._

_Thanks so much for your patience regarding it and I hope you enjoy this latest installment._

* * *

**Chapter 5 **

**Arizona 1996**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds like a really cheerful person," Sam mused.

Monica nodded and left the room.

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

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

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

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


	7. Chapter 6

_a/n: This may seem a bit far fetched an idea, but I needed a new character in this to give Andrew a reason for being there. This idea just dropped out of the sky and I had to go with it. Since I don't think that Andrew is just coincidentally there, I had to go with it. Here's hoping you will enjoy this latest installment._

_Reviews are appreciated.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 6 **

**New Mexico, 1999**

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

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

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

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

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

"Thesis work, Admiral Calavicci, Sir," she stammered, "I'm trying to get my second doctorate in Psychology."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead of speaking, she slowly nodded. "I guess so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps, but you're still scared," he said matter-of-factly.

She nodded. "It may sound crazy but I'm afraid to even ask."

"Why?" He asked. "Are you afraid I will say 'no'?"

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

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

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

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

"I guess not," she said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

"Paula Johnson is a Project Assistant," the computer regurgitated.

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?" She asked.

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

"You mean God," She asked.

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

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

"I don't believe in that kind of fate," Al said. "Besides, that sounds just too creepy for words. It's probably just coincidence."

Dr. Beeks shook her head. "Just ask Ziggy the name of the suicide victim."

"Which one?" Al asked.

"Either one," came the simple answer.

"Ziggy, what is the name of the girl that Andrew knew that ended her life?" Al asked.

"Melanie Stevenson," came the answer.

"Alright," Al said as he stuffed the unlit cigar in his mouth, he spoke again. "What is the name of Paula's cousin, the one who killed herself?"

The answer made the cigar fall out of his mouth.


	8. Chapter 7

_a/n: First of all, my sincere thanks to all of you for the reviews and suggestions. A special thanks to Kyer for pointing out the geography of Arizona for me, although a bit late, it's going to be considered in my next story with that particular setting. I do like to be geographically accurate if at all possible, so my apologies to you Arizonians out there for having to muddle through my clueless attempts at geography! _

_The second bit I have to thank Kyer for setting this 'flea in my ear' (that's a German idiomatic expression, meaning 'giving me an idea') about Sam thinking he's a hit man of some kind. I thought that that idea was just brilliant, so I put some of those thoughts into the words of Sam or Al in this chapter and have Al really driving the idea home in a future chapter. So any future reference to that will be because I read my reviews and took the suggestions that were given. It worked so I went with it. Thanks Kyer for that!  
_

_ Aside from that, I really hope that you enjoy this latest installment. The 'Inchworm' reference is from the 'Quantum Leap' episode 'Another Mother', where Al sings this song to Teresa. This is why she is impacted by that particular song. But, that's giving too much away, you gotta read it first. No copyright infringement is intended, I just think that song is a great way to bring in Teresa.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 7 **

**Arizona 1996**

Sam opened his eyes the following morning to feel them tearing up. His entire body felt stiff and it was almost as though he had slept sitting up. Wearily, he crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. As he regarded his, or in this case, Andrew's reflection in the mirror, he swallowed. He lowered his head and turned on the water and watched as the clear liquid gushed out in spurts from the rusted tap. He cupped his hands beneath the water and gargled a mouthful of it before spitting it back out.

This is all too strange to be real, he thought as he reached for the leather like black zipper case and opened it. Not sure where this came from, he began to dig around inside it until he found a comb and toothbrush. He pulled both objects out and placed the on the sink before returning his attention to the bag in search for a tube of toothpaste.

He unscrewed the cap and squeezed a generous amount of it onto the toothbrush and stuck it in his mouth. As he tasted the zingy freshness of mint, the imaging chamber door opened and Al appeared.

"Oh my God, Sam, does this place smell as bad as it looks?" He asked as he wrinkled up his nose disdainfully. "I've seen dumps in my days, but this one must take the grand prize for rat infestation."

"Believe me, it's worse than it looks," Sam sputtered as toothpaste flew from his mouth and landed in small blobs on the mirror. He eventually lowered his head, spit it out, and took another gulp of water before turning off the tap. He and turned and faced Al. "Please tell me you managed to find out something."

"I didn't find out much of anything about why you're here, but I did find out why Andrew might be in the waiting room," Al said.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Sam, do you remember when you leapt into Dr. Ruth?" When Sam looked at him with traces of annoyance, he continued. "No of course you don't, leaping swiss cheeses your memories. Several months back, you leaped into a sex therapist…"

Before he could finish, Sam interrupted, a loud moan emerging. "…Please Al, I am not in the mood for sorted sex stories."

"No, no, no, Sam, that's not what this is about," Al held up his hands in negation and shook his head.

"What is it about then?" Sam asked.

"When you leaped into her, she came to the waiting room, and it turned out that she was there to help me," Al said.

"So Andrew's there to help you with something?" Sam asked. "I keep thinking that I'm attached to the mob or something, but dressed in beige clothes seems a bit out of character for a mobster, doesn't it?"

"Something tells me you're not a mobster, Sam. A mobster wouldn't be hanging out in dumps like this for one thing and for another, you don't have a gun or holster. At any rate, Ziggy is not all that forthcoming with information, but I think there is a connection as to why it is you leaped into Andrew. Last night before I talked to Dr. Beeks, I thought that the key to all of this was Teresa Bruckner. I kind of wish you were here to help her, because God, it makes my heart sick to think that that sweet little girl could fit into this concocted jigsaw puzzle."

"Andrew's assignment?" Sam asked.

Al took a draw on his cigar and released the smoke in an exhaled breath. "Never mind, the percentages about her are pretty low anyway," he paused. "Sam, do you remember last night when we talked about Melanie Stevenson?"

"That was the girl that Andrew was grieving about wasn't it?" Sam asked. "How does she fit into all of this?"

"Her cousin works for Project Quantum Leap, Sam. Her name is Paula Johnson and she's really smart girl. I met and talked to her earlier tonight and she was about as insecure as they come. When she started talking about psychology and making some new PhD, I thought I was talking to the female version of you."

"So Paula is Melanie's cousin, and Andrew knew Melanie?" Sam asked. "Where is Paula now?"

"I guess she's talking to Andrew, or better said, she's interviewing him for this psychology PhD work she's doing," Al said.

"Do you think that's wise?" Sam asked skeptically. "If Andrew did enable Melanie to kill herself, do you think that Paula, given her emotional state, would be safe in his presence right now?"

"Sam, you're giving me the willies with your questions," Al muttered. "But, when we get finished, I'll go check on her and make sure she's OK."

"OK, so we may have established why Andrew is there, but we still don't know why I'm here. It still could be Teresa," Sam said. "I know that Ziggy's percentages are sometimes low, but that egocentric computer may not have all the answers to this one. Look at how much we've had to fish out the details here. I am going to try and keep my eyes out for her regardless of what they say. If there's another reason why I'm here, then it should show itself soon, right?"

"I know that Dr. Beeks talked to me last night about Paula and she said that her cousin had ended her life three years ago, meaning in 1996. I don't know why, but something inside of me, beyond the skeptic is thinking that maybe Andrew could be here to help Paula move on and find the courage to live."

"Yes, but that's only if Andrew is an angel. If he was, then he could just show up out of the blue and help her without getting me involved," Sam said shaking his head. "Why would the man upstairs go through all this trouble to put me here without anything to do? Not to mention the fact that this does not explain anything, it only heightens my fears that maybe Andrew is not a boy scout."

"I don't know Sam, the guy looks pretty harmless to me," Al said. "Just let me ask you this. If this is a 'Bonnie and Clyde' caper, then where's your artillery?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know."

"There you go, we haven't figured it out, but if Andrew is a hired gun, then you are a sitting duck," Al said firmly.

"Why don't you go check on Paula and I'll see what else I can find out here?" Sam suggested.

Al nodded as he disappeared through the imaging chamber door.

As soon as he was gone, Sam went over to the bathroom window and peered outside. Something was definitely not right, and although Al had not given him anything to go on, he could not let go of the possibility that Teresa was the reason he was there.

* * *

_Inchworm, inchworm_

_Measuring the marigolds_

You and your arithmetic

_Will probably go far…_

The sounds of singing filled Teresa Bruckner's ears and she rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head. This was part of her daily existence in this ramshackle place. She hated having to live next to a woman who would often sing little songs to her four-year-old son. Songs and nursery rhymes were the norm in this place and there was very little point to trying to get some sleep once they had woken up. Eventually, she shoved the pillow up against the wall, pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around the room.

She crawled off the cot and walked over to the small table that was on the other side of the room. Grabbing a rubber band, she began to pull her long brown hair into a casual ponytail. The hair was now greasy from not having been washed in several days, but she did not care. Perhaps she could afford pay for a shower in a few more days. She never imagined that when she left home, that she would be living in such dismal conditions.

The one room dwelling where she lived did not have much, no lighting and no heating. She had managed to keep some of her clothing when she moved here, but there was not much left, perhaps four outfits if that. She had given most of her stuff to the lady next door because her son was working on a cold and she could not stand to see a small child suffer. Since she tried to help the other homeless people, Teresa had suddenly realized that her good intentions had been for naught. Today, her existence bordered on being nothing more than a struggle.

Things had been this way since January when her father had stopped payment on her tuition and now she was on her own. After having spent the past semester in a dormitory, she had been evicted and knew first hand what if felt like to have everything taken away from her.

The truth was, she wanted to move back home more than anything in the world, but she did not even have the money to buy a one way ticket from Harlingen to Scottsdale.

Whenever she thought about what had happened to her, she could feel the shame building up inside her and she shook her head. I have to survive, she affirmed almost daily, yet this did not stop her from thinking about her family.

What would they say if they knew that she was living impoverished in the town where they all thought she was going to school?

Ever since her childhood, she dreamt of becoming a more famous archeologist than Indiana Jones. Perhaps this had to do with her brother being obsessed with the films that were made during the early eighties. Today, her hopes had collapsed and she had started to give up on life.

She took a deep breath as she remembered how her mother, Linda, had been so proud of her. "You will be the first Bruckner to finish college," she had said, a wave of pride washing over the single mother of three. Her older brother, Kevin, had nodded affirmatively. Every time she had spoken with him, he had lovingly called her 'munchkin' or 'dwarf'. The nicknames had stayed with her even after they had all grown up and gone their separate ways.

Today, Kevin was working at the local gym as a personal trainer, he was married and had a child on the way. Her sister Susan had become a paralegal and was dating a man from their church. Everyone seemed to be doing well. Everyone, that is, except for Teresa.

Shaking her head, the young woman bit down on her lower lip as she continued to hear the sounds of her neighbor's off key singing filtering through the room. The familiar words seemed to echo in her mind and for whatever reason, she wished that her neighbor had started to sing anything but 'Inchworm'.

For some strange reason, she found it difficult to figure out specifically why it was this song affected her as profoundly as it did. It had been this way ever since her childhood and had left an almost sad, but melancholy feeling cursing through her. Of course, she had ceased to believe in angels, although for some reason, she did connect this song with angels. How could she not? Those fantasies from her youth were still there, even if she, herself, had devolved into this empty shell.

She rubbed her face with her hands, the dirt that gathered beneath her fingernails indicative of her state of poverty. She reached for the dress from the night before and pulled it over her head.

Today, she was closing in on her twentieth birthday and a feeling of hopelessness seemed to follow her around in the same manner as the pungent odor that surrounded her. She scanned the room where she was staying and shook her head as she reached for her lightweight jacket. She put it on, zipped it up to her neck, and tried all the while to block out the incessant singing that filtered into her room from the hallway.

I have to get out of here before I go out my mind, she thought and without thinking, she quickly left the room, the door slamming behind her.

Outside in the hallway, the singing grew even louder…

_Two and two are four_

_Four and four are eight_

_Eight and eight are sixteen _

_Sixteen and sixteen are thirty-two_

This was supposed to be a boarding house, she thought sadly, not a kindergarten. Yet it felt as though she was being smothered by the sounds of singing that permeated the entire second floor. She slowly walked down the hall towards the door leading to the stairwell.

She wished more than anything that she could return home, face her mother and siblings, but she couldn't. Something inside of her did not have the courage to confess to them that she had lost everything. She had tried, Lord knows she had put all the effort she could into this, but the money had run out and her father's promise to help her pay off the rest had gone unfulfilled. She knew everything there was to know about dinosaurs, yet she had been denied the opportunity to show anyone the knowledge she possessed.

She took a deep breath and swallowed as the sounds of the neighbor's singing fading somewhat, but not entirely. It felt as though she was being haunted by memories.

She slipped through the doorway and descended the stairs, the sounds of the singing continued to follow her.

_That's what we have_

_On our business like minds…_

_…__Two and two are four…_

By the time she reached the door that led outside, the sounds of singing had faded completely, yet in her mind she could still hear the words drifting about in her mind. Opening the front door, she suddenly felt the cool early morning breeze wafting against her face. She shuddered slightly as she tried to make some distance between herself and the building.

After some time had passed, she could feel the silence literally encompass her. She wound her arms around her body and shivered as the breeze touched her exposed skin. This seemed rather odd for the general climate of Arizona, she thought, but as she walked, she could feel a trail of moisture was now seeping from beneath the corner of her eye and falling down over her cheek.

Why would I be crying? She asked herself, but before she could contemplate an answer, she suddenly felt herself being pushed to the ground, her body hitting the earth with force. As reality spun away, she could feel the graveled parking lot cushioning her body.


	9. Chapter 8

_a/n: First of all, sorry that it's been few and far between with the chapters of this story. The fact that I am very particular about how my material is presented is probably evident to all of you. I went away on vacation for five days intending to work on this and didn't get much done because I got sick. I came back wanting to fulfill my promise to myself to get this chapter up. So after some (hopefully halfway decent) polishing work, this chapter is good to go._

_For what it's worth, I have also been putting some extra time and effort in on this story and hope that all of you will enjoy the latest installment. I know we have two separate plot devices going on here, but hopefully this chapter will explain why they are present and their relation to one another is a bit obscure, but I think workable._

_I hope that you enjoy this one, and if you have time and wish, a review would be appreciated. Thanks and happy reading._

* * *

**  
**

**C****hapter 8 **

**New Mexico, 1999**

By the time Al had finished his conversation with Sam, Paula had reached the waiting room and was standing outside, her stance indicative that she was simply not sure that she wanted to actually pursue this. True to her word to Al, she dropped her notebook against the wall before entering the room. As she was coming inside, she noticed that Andrew was sitting against the wall, his head lowered.

Upon hearing her entering, he raised his head. The angel was half surprised to see that instead of seeing Al, he was seeing this awkward looking young woman. Based on his perspective, she looked to be college aged, had medium length blonde hair that was tied back in a pony tail. She stood near the door leading outside, but closed it and started to hesitantly approach where he was sitting.

Smiling weakly, she bit down on her lip as she reached him and seated herself several feet away, her gaze meeting his. "H-hi," she offered shyly, but in her mind she could hear the words screaming in her brain. _Oh my God, he looks just like Dr. Beckett_. She took a deep breath and clasping her hands together, she tried to get her thoughts straight.

"Hello," he responded. "Where's Al?"

"Al?" She asked nervously and Andrew, not really certain of what was happening, nodded. Seeing this, she continued to speak, her voice wavering. "I-I think he sort of had something to attend to. H-he said that I could come in and speak with you for a few minutes. M-my name is Paula."

"I'm Andrew," he offered.

"Nice to meet you," She said softly.

"I take it you've never been in here before, you look terrified," he said, his voice filled with kindness. "You have nothing to be afraid of, Paula, I won't hurt you."

"I didn't think you would," she said. "Andrew, do you have a last name?"

"No, Al tried to coax one out of me," he said smiling, "but I couldn't pacify him."

"You mean; you don't remember it?" She asked.

"No, I don't have one," he said simply. "In my line of work, I don't really need to have one."

"Line of work?" She asked. "What sort of work would deny someone a last name? A last name connects you to your roots and your family." She looked down at her hands and shook her head. "What do you do that would deny you that?"

"I can't say specifically," he began. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me anymore than Al did when I tried to tell him."

"Why would you if you fear people not believing you?" She asked.

"I can't say for certain why, but I can say that the truth seemed to have frightened him and I don't want to scare you," he said. "Perhaps that was the reason why he sent you."

"No, he wouldn't put me in undue danger," Paula said unconvincingly.

"You're in no danger with me," Andrew said. "But, if you're so afraid, then why are you even here?"

"When I first asked Al if I could come in here, I didn't know what to think or feel about it," she admitted. "I knew that I probably had a very significant reason to feel afraid or intimidated, but when I saw you sitting here on the ground, I somehow thought that maybe I didn't need to be afraid. Maybe you're the one who is afraid and can't quite understand why you're here or what this place is."

"I'm not afraid, at least not anymore," he said.

"Then you were before when you first arrived?" She asked.

Andrew nodded. "I felt cut off and disoriented. It's as though I was living in a dream-like state of mind."

"A dream?" She whispered.

"A sort of alternate reality," Andrew said honestly. "I'm not quite sure if that's a good way to describe it, but that's how it felt."

"You know, if it was me, I think I'd be terrified," she admitted.

"I was, but I'm starting to feel a little bit more comfortable," he began. "I don't know why it is the case, but I am not experiencing fear. I think Al tried to explain, but it has proven to be rather difficult for me to understand. He said that this Sam Beckett was in my life in 1996 to make something right that went wrong, but I don't see how that can be possible," Andrew said as he looked down at the white outfit he wore and touched his face.

"Why? Are you incapable of making mistakes?" She asked skeptically before she could stop herself. She started to wonder if all the people who appeared in the waiting room were as arrogant as this guy seemed to be.

"No, that's not it," he said honestly. "Paula, I don't know if I can explain this without frightening you. Maybe it sounds arrogant, but I cannot image a human being correcting something I did."

"What makes you so sure that Dr. Beckett cannot?" She asked. "I think he's a pretty remarkable person."

"I don't mean it that way. When you think about this place and that he's leaped into my life, then yes, I do think that he's a rather remarkable individual for having the ability to do what he does," Andrew said.

"You're not trying to be arrogant?" She asked.

"No, and I'm not trying to put down Sam for what he does, I'm just trying to understand what my purpose is for being here. I don't think it's just a matter of Sam putting something right in my life, but maybe I am here to help put something right as well."

"How can you?" She asked. "You have very little contact outside this room."

"How is not clear to me, but I cannot imagine being brought to this strange place and being cut off from my friends without there being a reason. I have never really experienced this form of isolation before, and for a time, I felt rather cutoff from everything, even God."

"From God?" She whispered as she took a deep breath as she looked down at her lap. "Somehow, I know the feeling."

Andrew raised his head and looked at her. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, let's just forget it," she said.

As she spoke, the door swung open and Al came into the room. "Paula, would you leave us please?"

She nodded and slowly left the waiting room as Al looked at Andrew. Once the door had closed, he took a deep breath. "What fabricated stories did you tell her?" He asked.

"I didn't tell her anything, but I think she's the reason I'm here, and I think you know it too," Andrew said. "She's still grieving after three years have passed."

"Yeah, and ironically, the person she's grieving for is the very same one I'm seriously starting to think you murdered," Al said angrily.

"I wouldn't murder anyone," Andrew objected. "Al, I am an angel, not a killer."

"No," Al shouted angrily. "You're some sick nozzle going around pretending to be an angel. I was actually starting to believe you, but someone must have knocked some sense into me."

"I am an angel," Andrew whispered. "After I told you everything I knew, I thought you had no reason to doubt what I was telling you."

"I don't know what I believe," Al shouted. "Maybe what I believe is that you are aren't telling me everything you know. You are playing off a man with no last name, but that man doesn't even exist. What sort of game are you trying to play here?"

"I'm not playing games," Andrew insisted. "I didn't murder anyone, I'm still trying to make sense of what happened. Al, I just want to understand why I'm here and what is happening to my life. Please, you've got to believe me."

"The minute I'll believe you is the moment I get my friend who's parading around as you to go call the police and have you locked away for assisted suicide. And to think I actually let Paula in here. She is already a mess, so chances are ten minutes with you would put the poor kid over the top," Al said angrily. "I'll tell you this, Mister. If Melanie was my daughter, I would sure as hell want to have you strung up by your toes for this. Now I have to go and see what I can do to help Teresa avoid the same fate."

He stormed to the door with the intention of leaving. Just as he was about to open the door he stopped and turned around. "I can't believe I was almost taken by your 'pretty boy' act. It is obvious to me what is going on; you travel incognito and you attach yourself to young defenseless women. How many others have you harmed in this little 'angel game' you're playing? How many, fifty, a hundred? What sort of twisted person would do this to a child?" His questions emerged as shouting accusations, but instead of waiting for a response, he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Andrew closed his eyes. "Father, please help me get out of here. I feel like a prisoner."

"In essence you are," a voice emerged and he turned to see that his friend and fellow Angel of Death Adam was in the room. The taller of the two angels was standing near the side wall, a gentle glow surrounding him as spoke. Andrew took in the familiar essence of his friend.

"Adam, how did you find me?" He asked weakly. "I was so afraid that there was no way for anyone to contact me."

The angel with the graying hair shook his head. "It wasn't hard, the Father knows where you are, buddy. You know perfectly well that there is nothing that is truly lost in God's world. You already know that, Andrew, but Al seems to be limited on his belief, isn't he?"

"He thinks I'm some twisted and sick person who thrives on watching people die," Andrew said softly. "Just before he came, he accused me of murdering Melanie."

"I know, I heard him, in fact, the volume that man can get to when he's upset is nothing shocking especially since the whole celestial realm can hear him. He seems to have a remarkable volume control on his voice when push comes to shove," Adam said bluntly.

"Why am I here?" Andrew asked. "From the way Al was talking, I feared that he was going to put me on trial for murder."

Adam shook his head. "Andrew, deep down inside, you know that he can't do it. To do so would expose the entire project that he's been working his tail off to maintain as a secret. In fact, by the time anything that you're scared of happening could, then you'll be safely out of here and Sam Beckett will have leaped into someone else's life."

Andrew nodded, but stood up. "What happened to me before I came here?"

"You were pretty broken up," he said. "I saw you just before you, Monica, and Tess had driven off to your next assignment and you were a mere shadow of your usual self. Perhaps it was my prayer that brought you here."

"Your prayer?" Andrew whispered.

"I asked the Father to help you heal from this, that meant facing and overcoming it," Adam said. He came over and rested his hand on the shoulder of the other angel. "You needed time, Andrew. You still do, but in hearing my prayer, the Father sent you here and gave it to you."

"Why this place, Adam?" Andrew asked. "Why must I go to the future to find peace?"

"Well, I would say that all things considered, you're also here for Paula Johnson. Perhaps since she needs help, you're probably the best angel for the case. And before you ask; no, you're not here to help her die, you're here to help her live. She hasn't fully lived since her cousin, Melanie, died."

"Paula is Melanie's cousin?" Andrew whispered.

"Couldn't you tell? Both girls looked to be a cut from the same mold," Adam said softly. He took a deep breath before he continued. "Look Andrew, we all know that this has been an extremely difficult situation for you. You have been denied the chance to really experience the grief you feel about what happened and what you saw. I believe that this is why the Father sent me here. He wanted me to remind you that you are not alone in all of this."

"Does Monica and Tess even know about what happened?" Andrew asked.

Adam shook his head. "Not yet, but soon they will have to know simply because Sam is going to have to get involved in free will to help someone who has been a friend of his for many years."

"Teresa Bruckner?" Andrew asked.

"You got it," Adam said nodding. "It stands to reason that you are here and he is there because he is more connected to the story unfolding in Arizona than you are. It's interesting how the Father can turn just about any situation around in order to help those parties involved. Sam is the only one who can save Teresa's life, and you are the only one who can save Paula's."

Andrew smiled weakly. "At least this is finally starting to make sense to me. But, Adam what should I do about Al?"

"You already know the answer to that one, Buddy, you're going to have to sit down and talk to him," Adam said calmly. "The only way you are going to be able to even help Paula is to first help Al to believe that you are who you say you are. If you don't manage that, then you'll never even get a chance to reach Paula."

"How can I reach Al?" Andrew asked. "He thinks I'm crazy."

"Use the truth, and know that God always gives you what you need when you need it," he said and disappeared.

Andrew stared at where Adam had been standing. He knew that his friend had been right. Still, after reflecing on what Al had said to him, he knew that this was not going to be easy. "Thank you for sending Adam here to remind me, Father," he whispered under his breath.


	10. Chapter 9

_a/n: My apologies for not posting this chapter sooner. Seeing as this is a work in progress, I find myself having to be motivated to write and lately, due to health issues, the motivation hasn't been all that strong. Hopefully, it will start to pick up again and I can get these chapters up in relatively decent intervals. My apologies if there are a few mistakes with the editing. I generally try to beta read my own work, but as with anything where motivation is not strong, I have to deal with what I got (that being a pair of 36 year old eyes with a medical condition affixed). _

_The other issue is that I was out of town at a workshop and only got back last night. I truly don't mean to keep anyone hanging here with this stuff, but I really needed to have some time away from the Internet to recharge my batteries. Thank you for understanding._

_The next updates will be quicker._

_Your reviews are greatly appreciated!_

* * *

**Chapter 9 **

**Arizona, 1996**

Time seemed to stand still for Teresa as she wearily opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to see that Victoria Livingston stood, a baseball bat in her hands and a sneer on her otherwise emotionless face. Instead of moving and allowing the aggressive woman another opportunity to attack her in broad daylight, she remained on the ground. Victoria had only used the object to push her away, but because she was weak from fatigue and hunger, it was perfectly clear that more than a shove was enough.

Teresa remained unmoving next to Tess' car, her heartbeat practically racing. She was scared, but remained unmoving as one would do when a rabid dog was about to attack. She figured that the close proximity of the convertible gave proper leeway for the woman's rationale in assaulting her.

At any rate, Teresa could see clearly that Victoria remained standing for several minutes as she felt the woman's eyes bearing into her back. Teresa remained unmoving on the ground, all the while waiting for Victoria to leave before she would stand up.

"That'll teach you, you vagrant," Victoria hissed, her words filled with unsuppressed hatred. She continued to regard Teresa with contempt as these utterances emerged. As soon as she noticed that Teresa had not moved, she started to walk back towards the door leading back into the hotel.

As soon as she entered the lobby, she bypassed Monica who had curiously heard the commotion out in the parking lot. Wordlessly, Victoria breezed past her all the while ignoring the look of horror that had crossed the Irish angel's face.

Monica's compassionate brown eyes were transfixed back onto the baseball bat. Seconds later, Victoria turned around and saw her staring blankly at the object. "What's the matter with you?" She asked rudely.

The angel took a deep breath as she regarded the woman and recovered from her shock somewhat. "What did you do with that?" She asked.

"I have done nothing, Monica, just protecting the property of those who have parked their cars at this establishment. Now, I would suggest that you get back to work or your job could be in jeopardy, and that would not be good, especially since this is your first day. Be grateful that you are here and not in the position of those nobodies next door," Victoria motioned towards the door as she took the bat and returned it to the corner where it usually stood.

When Monica refused to move, Victoria raised her voice. "You should get back to work and not trouble yourself with issues of the local vagrants." When she still did not budge, the woman's eyes narrowed to cat-like slits and she pointed to the cart that was stationed in the center of the corridor. "If you intend on keeping this job, Monica, then I will repeat myself only once. If you don't get back to work, then you might just find yourself sleeping in your friend's car tonight."

With tears of empathy and frustration still in her eyes, Monica could do nothing except nod helplessly. Working for this woman was rather like working for a tyrant, the fleeting thoughts cursed though her mind. Trying without success to keep her mind from judging someone she barely knew, she clasped the handle of the cart and began to push her weight against it, thus maneuvering it down the hall.

As soon as she was out of Victoria's sight, she entered her and Tess' room and could see that Tess was standing and waiting for her.

"Tess," she breathed a sigh of relief. "Victoria just went outside and assaulted a young woman for no reason at all."

"I know, Angel Girl. She is using the safety of my car as her rationale," came the unhappy answer. "I initially thought that we could try and reach Victoria before something dreadful happens to Andrew's assignment, but it would seem as though we are too late. Victoria has already found her scapegoat."

"Then you mean that Teresa's going to die," Monica whispered.

"No, not yet, anyway," Tess said. "Right now, she's trying to pretend as a way to protect herself. That sometimes happens with homeless people. They find a good psychological game to play as a means to protect themselves from harm and Teresa is no different. Her passivity is part of the mechanism she uses, she learned it early on when she got booted out of school. When she knows it's safe for her, she will simply get up and leave the parking lot as though nothing happened."

"Can't she file charges against Victoria for assaulting her?" Monica asked.

"She could, but she won't," Tess responded. "Victoria's brother is sheriff around here, and you know the old saying about blood being thicker than water. Aside from that, she appears to be afraid of doing anything against anyone. She knows that no one here is going to listen to her and she believes she has far more to lose than to gain. Monica, Teresa is not our assignment, Victoria is, and the Father wants us to help her."

"Tess, can't we just forget about Victoria for a minute? She doesn't seem to care about anyone but herself," Monica whispered.

"And what better sort of person is there to need an angel?" Tess asked pointedly.

"Yes, but what is going to happen to Teresa, Tess? She may not die now, but in the future, she could and her only crime is being homeless. Why doesn't Victoria like homeless people anyway? What is she so afraid of that would justify her going after them with a baseball bat?"

"She didn't hit Teresa with the bat, Miss Wings, she used it to push her away," to emphasize her point, she grabbed the broom handle and held the object parallel to the floor in a similar fashion.

"I see no difference," Monica whispered stubbornly.

"Victoria used it as a means to exercise control over her situation. You see, a great deal of it has a lot to do with her past. When she holds the bat, it is used as a means to maintain distance. Using it as leverage, she is able to push away the things and people who can remind her of what she once was."

"I don't understand," Monica whispered. "Are you saying that she was homeless?"

Tess nodded. "Her father was. He died on the streets, another homeless man stabbed him, thus making him a statistic. Victoria believes that every homeless person personifies the man who murdered her father. She never blamed her mother for throwing him out, instead, she blamed the homeless for this fate, if you will."

"Teresa wouldn't hurt anyone, though," Monica said.

"You and I both know that, Angel Girl," Tess said nodding. "The question is, who is a better target, a person who would willingly bring harm to another, or a person like Teresa who wouldn't hurt a fly?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Monica mused, her voice trailing off.

"You see, Victoria could either select someone who is stronger and can easily bring harm to her, or someone who is weaker than she is and thus construed as defenseless."

"This doesn't make sense," Monica whispered. "If Victoria wanted to just push another person around, then why did she need a bat to do it?"

"Well, try to hug me while I'm in this stance," Tess said as Monica came closer to her and extended her arms out to her supervisor as though intending to embrace her.

After several minutes of trying, Monica shook her head. "I can't even get close enough to you Tess, the broom is in the way."

Tess nodded. "Now you know why she carries the bat. You get too close to someone, whether physically or emotionally, then you discover how much humanity you have towards them. People like Victoria are going to use whatever means they have to protect themselves from getting themselves involved in the plight of another. That is what the bat is for. Victoria needs to learn that she can be protected by love as much as by hate or prejudice. She also needs to know that people like Teresa are in no way a threat to her."

"Yes, but she sees homeless people as a threat to something. How can I even try to negotiate against such longstanding prejudice?" Monica argued. "Teresa doesn't deserve it, she's just a child. Nobody is asking why it is that wee girl has even lost her home."

"I know that, baby, and sadly, Andrew can't do anything to help her, he has to wait and see what will happen to her next and be on standby," Tess said. "At this point, it could go either way."

"You mean, Victoria could kill Teresa with that bat if she tries to get too close," Monica said softly as she looked down at her trembling hands.

"Yes," the supervisor said.

"Who's going to help Teresa, Tess?" Monica asked softly. "Victoria won't, she's…"

"…A child of the Father, and you must forgive her for her acts of ignorance," Tess interrupted and raised her hand as indication for the caseworker to stop speaking. "My question is, where is Andrew now?"

"I have no idea, I haven't seen him since last night," Monica said. "I thought that given these circumstances, he was going to be with his assignment?"

"Generally he is, if whom we are speaking of is, in fact, Andrew," Tess mused, but Monica did not hear these words, instead she waited for instructions. When Tess did not speak, Monica started towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"If Andrew's not going to take care of Teresa, then I will," Monica said and without waiting for Tess to respond, she disappeared.

* * *

When the young caseworker reappeared, she was standing not too far away from where Teresa was still sitting on the ground. It seemed as though the young girl had not moved since Victoria had gone inside, and this surprised her. She figured that Teresa would have already left. 

She slowly came over to her, the gravel crunching beneath her feet. As soon as Monica got down on the ground next to Teresa, she spoke. "Hello?" She spoke softly, her voice emerging as an exhaled breath. "It's alright, you have nothing to be afraid of, I won't hurt you." She rested her hand against the top of the girl's head and could feel the oily texture of her hair. After several moments, Teresa turned around and looked at Monica.

"Sorry, I don't mean to do anything wrong," she said feebly as she got to her feet and turned slowly around, her head immediately resting in her hands. "The world feels like it's spinning out of control." She gingerly touched her forehead, but as she did, she managed to focus on Monica, who now stood next to her. "You're that woman who arrived here last night, aren't you?"

"Yes, my name is Monica," she said.

"Teresa," came the simple answer. "I-I wasn't doing anything to your car."

"I'm not worried about that," Monica said simply. "The car is the least of my concerns. You did say that you head was spinning, do you often have dizzy spells like this?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "Look, Monica, don't worry about me. I'm a big girl and can generally take care of myself."

"I don't doubt it, but maybe you should see a doctor about your dizzy spells. They could lead to something much more serious," Monica said. "Did you take a blow to your head just now?"

"No, I just got pushed really hard and hit the dirt," Teresa said. "It's nothing really. Besides that, I have been getting headaches since the first of the year anyway. It's nothing major, they do generally pass on after time."

"Do you know who pushed you?" Monica asked.

"Yes, but I learned early on that there's no way I can do anything about her," she responded. "Her family pretty much runs this town."

"You should at least do something about this," Monica said.

"You don't understand," Teresa touched her forehead once more. This time as she felt the searing pain curse through her, she cringed slightly, her body tensing up.

"Let me at least help you," Monica looked at her, the angel's brown eyes imploring her to concede to this small suggestion.

"No, I know you work at the hotel. I also know that you'd lose your job because of me and I cannot live with that on my conscience," Teresa said trying all the while to smile bravely. "You are very kind to want to help me, but sometimes you just have to look out for yourself. No one else is going to do it, and I know that you have far more to lose than you could possibly gain." As these words emerged, she began to walk slowly across the parking lot and away from where the young angel was standing.

"At least go to the police," Monica said, thus causing her to stop and turn around. "You cannot just let this slide by without any sort of consequence."

"I have to," Teresa said as she turned away from Monica and slowly disappeared inside the abandoned building, the door sliding closed behind her.

Once she was gone, Monica was left staring after her.

Instead of following, she ran back inside the building. As she passed by the window where Victoria was working, she did not stop to hear the angry words that emerged. Instead, she made her way down the hall towards Sam's room.

She knocked on the door and waited. When it pulled open, she looked up into a pair of green eyes. "Andrew, you're supposed to be with Teresa, what are you still doing here?"

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"You should know what happened," Monica said firmly. "Victoria Livingston assaulted Teresa outside. She's your assignment."

Teresa, there was that name again, Sam thought as he took a deep breath. "Where is she?"

"The last time I saw her she had gone into that building next door," she said. "After she got pushed to the ground, she was complaining about headaches. For a minute, I thought that Victoria had hit her over the head with the baseball bat."

"No, if she got hit with any force to the head like that, it would probably have killed her," Sam said as he grabbed the jacket from off the chair and put it on. "If Teresa got up and walked away from you, then there's no logical way that she could have taken a blow to the head. She should be fine, but I'll go check on her."

"Andrew, I know that you know how to be an angel of death better than I do, but it is not normal for one to not be with his assignment when something like this happens," Monica insisted. "Why are you acting so strangely?"

"What am I doing that is so strange?" He asked. "Did I say something that was wrong?"

"No, it's not what you're saying that concerns me so much, it's how you're behaving and how you're not with Teresa when she has been attacked. We both know that that wee girl couldn't survive getting hit by a baseball bat, but we also know that when an assignment is in danger, her angel should be with her."

Sam took a deep breath, he was this close to snapping at her. He knew that he was not crazy, but he did not believe that he was an angel nor did he believe that he had this miraculous power to save Teresa from danger. Even if he wished for the ability to save her from harm, he knew that he did not possess it. The one thing he understood was that he was not omniscient and could not be in two places at one time. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Monica. "Look, maybe instead of arguing with me, you should just let me go and check in on her," he finally managed to speak.

Monica looked at him skeptically. "Andrew, I'm not trying to argue with you. I just can't help but think that you haven't really been yourself since yesterday."

Sam took a deep breath. "With you, I have no idea how I'm supposed to act or what I'm supposed to say. Monica, for whatever reason, a girl is dead, a second could die and you're asking me about my vocabulary or whether or not I'm acting strangely." He took a deep breath, the exasperation emerging in his words. "Maybe what happened with Melanie changed me somehow. It could very well have opened my eyes, or made me start thinking about who I am or what I'm supposed to be doing here. I can tell you one thing; this experience hasn't given me any answers to the problems these people seem to be having here. What it has done is deepen my concerns for all parties involved."

"What are you going to do?" She eventually asked. "You know you can't interfere with free will."

Sam looked at her skeptically. She really doesn't want to give up this bit about angels, does she? He asked himself. Instead of blowing his cover, he simply nodded. "I know that an angel can't interfere with free will, but that doesn't mean that we are just supposed to sit idly by and do nothing when someone is in danger. If Teresa is supposed to die, then I will do whatever I can to change that, free will or no free will."

Monica watched as he wordlessly walked past her and disappeared down the hall. She stood staring in the room, her brown eyes trying to rationalize what exactly had happened. After several moments, she shook her head. "That's not Andrew," she whispered.

"No, Angel Girl, its not," Tess said, her words breaking into Monica's thoughts. "He's here and is kind of playing a game of pretend with us."

"Who is he, Tess?" Monica whispered. "He looks like Andrew and even talks like him, but he's not acting like him. It's as though he doesn't believe that he's an angel or that Father is watching over us. He thinks…"

"…He thinks that we are some group of organized criminals and that 'Angel of Death' is a sort of code name for a hired killer," Tess said softly. "He hasn't said as much, but it is those ideas coming through loud and clear by the way he's behaving. This is the issue that we have to face right at this moment."

"This is crazy, Tess, we're not here to hurt anyone," Monica objected.

"You know that, baby and I know that, but this 'Mister X', whoever he is, doesn't know it. If he's not Andrew, and he's not an angel, then what do you suppose he's going to think when we start talking about faith and other issues that coincide with our work?"

"I don't know, Tess, but it scares me to contemplate the possibility that someone has taken Andrew's place. I mean; if that's not Andrew, then where is he?" Monica asked, her voice bordering on a panic.

"I don't know where he is baby, I am still trying to figure out who this imposter is. The only thing I do know, is that he's not our Andrew, and the Father wants us to play along with this no matter what happens." As she spoke, Tess wrapped her arm around Monica's shoulder.

"You know what?" Monica whispered. "I don't want to play a game, I want to know where Andrew is." As she spoke, she pressed her face against her supervisor's shoulder and shook her head.

"I know you're worried, Angel Girl," the older woman spoke. "I'm just as worried as you are about all of this. I want to know where my Angel Boy is and if he is safe. I suppose that what we have to do is remember that the Father is in charge of everything that is happening. He knows the reason why all of this is happening even if we don't just yet. No matter what is going to happen here, you just keep the faith that everything will turn out alright in the end."

"I know you're right, but it doesn't stop me from worrying about Andrew," Monica said weakly.

Tess nodded as she continued to hold her younger charge. "I know, baby, I feel the exact same way."

"What about this imposter?" Monica asked. "How can we find out who he is."

"I think in time we'll know," Tess said. "But you know, Baby, I have this feeling deep inside that this person is not here to bring harm to any of us."


	11. Chapter 10

_First of all, my apologies for not having posted during the last week. I wanted to get this up, but was having problems with the computer, so wasn't able to get anything done until today. Here's hoping no one had given up on me with this._

_Enjoy and thanks for the reviews._

* * *

**Chapter 10 **

**New Mexico, 1999**

It was late into the night when Al suddenly opened his eyes. He had been asleep, but was jarred awake by a dream that he had been having. He normally was not disturbed by dreams, but this time it felt so real that he awoke with sweat lining his forehead.

In his dream, he was talking to Andrew, but not in the waiting room, instead they were speaking in a jungle just outside of Saigon and the year was 1971. It was during the time when had been missing in action and presumed dead. It was also the most authentic dream that he had had in years, and yet, he knew that these sorts of images had not really affected him in such a long time.

For a fleeting moment, he felt catapulted back to the moment when Andrew and he had spoken for the first time. He could not help but recall how the younger man had literally regurgitated all those facts about him. The specific knowledge that Andrew possessed about his service in Vietnam had left him literally dumbfounded.

"It must have just been a coincidence," he muttered once he had opened his eyes and found himself back home in bed. He began to pound his pillow indignantly with the intention of fluffing it up and going back to sleep. As he finished, he realized abruptly that it was pointless. His contemplations were literally grasping hold of him and he knew that he could not simply dismiss them.

It was no question, he had been having these strange dreams about angels since Sam had leaped into Andrew. It was as though he was getting some sort of subliminal messages from the great beyond, and this had left the observer in a virtual tailspin. For whatever reason, Al was becoming all the more certain that everything that was happening to him had somehow connected itself to Andrew.

Casting a wary glance around the room, he knew beyond any doubt that he was not about to tell anyone about what he was thinking or feeling. After all, if he could not understand it how could he expect anyone else to?

He slowly sat up in bed and glanced over at the clock that was on the bedside table. The digital display read 2:43 and a glance out the window affirmed to him that it would be several hours before daybreak. The sky was black, the stars dotting it like diamonds on black velvet. It was, if anything, what one would dub as a typical desert night.

He rolled over and propped himself up on the pillow so that he could see his girlfriend, Tina, as she lay sleeping next to him. In the space that separated them, an open book lay. He glanced momentarily towards the cover and sighed.

Typical, he thought as he took in the half nude models that graced the cover, another smut novel. Do women ever grow tired of those? He allowed his lips to curl up into a coy smirk as he reflected on all the times when he had his own head in the gutter. Maybe we're better matched than I thought, he mused as his thoughts shifted to Sam. His friend had often scolded him about his x-rated brainwaves and how even with a swiss-cheesed memory, he could still recall Al's various exploits.

With his eyes still on the book, he could see, even in the dark that a page was dog-eared about halfway through. And to think how I sometimes contemplated Tina being unable to read beyond the forth grade level. He bit down on his lower lip to keep the laughter from filling the room and waking her.

Laying back down, he draped his arms behind his head and allowed his eyes to stare at the ceiling. It was one of those nights, he thought with a groan, I can't sleep a wink, and yet I am physically exhausted.

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he managed to sit back up and slowly crawl out of bed. With a final glance towards Tina, he stole his way out of the room, his hand reaching out to grab some clothing as he left.

For whatever reason, he could not get his mind off of where specifically Sam was. On top of that, he could not stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day in the waiting room when had confronted Andrew. He was, for some unknown reason, starting to feel regret about the confrontational words he had spoken. Perhaps all of this had more to do with his dreams than his reality.

Of course, Al was not one to jump to psychological conclusions, and he was not about to start tonight. At this present moment, he had positively no theory as to what was happening or what he could do. In fact, he was more prepared to take some 'crazy' notion about it than to try and cover up the huge 'nothing' that he was now forced to contend with.

He went into the bathroom and tossed the clothing on the lowered toilet seat. As he turned on the light, he allowed himself the time for his eyes became accustomed to the brightness. He reached for the green colored pants and slid them over his underwear. As soon as they were buttoned and zipped, he reached over and grabbed the matching shirt and put it on.

This was the same shirt that Teresa had once called 'yucky', he recalled with a slight smile as he began to button it up. She had been just a little girl back them, but today she was a grown woman. Of course, Al Calavicci would never have called the shirt 'yucky', instead he called it 'cutting edge'. A small chuckle emerged as he put on the tie and nodded with satisfaction as he started looking for the green hat that matched the outfit. "It must be in the hall closet," he mumbled as he left the bathroom and went down the hall to the cabinet and opened it.

When he saw the hat, he reached for it, and put it on. After casting a quick glance in the reflection in the mirror, he shook his head. I still can't believe that she's all grown up, he thought as he started towards the front door and pulled it open.

As soon as he stepped outside, he could feel the breeze from the New Mexico night wafting up against his face. He inhaled deeply as he tried to think about what he was going to do. It had been several hours since his confrontation with Andrew, and he had not been back to see how Sam was doing. Perhaps part of the reason was his knowing that Sam would try and pry out the whole sorted incident with Andrew from him. At this point, he was not sure about whether or not he was ready to talk about it just yet.

Besides that, Al figured that not very much time had passed for Sam. He could always return five minutes after leaving if need be.

He drove back to the project and arrived close to half an hour after leaving his house. He parked in his general spot, pulled the key, crawled out and closed the door. As soon as he had locked the door, he started to walk back towards the building.

Coming inside, Al knew by the half empty building that it was late. The corridors were dark with a dim light shining from every other lamp. It was a strange sensation, one that left Al to feel out of sorts with his dreams as well as his reality.

He knew that that ghost crew that were at the project were only there in case Sam happened to leap in the middle of the night. He had arranged this so that they would be able to trace where and when he had leaped to.

The people exchanged no words with him, they simply nodded at him as he wordlessly passed by him. Although he wouldn't admit it, Al felt all the better for the silence.

Instead of going to see Andrew, he made his way down the familiar corridor in the direction of the imaging chamber. Al knew that he was not yet ready to go and talk to Andrew. He figured that that would come soon enough anyway.

At the same time, he had no idea what he was going to do or why he was even going into the large room. There were too many issues for him to contend with; too many questions ravaging his mind. At the very same instant, Andrew seemed to be right smack dab in the middle of everything.

As he entered, he looked around and saw the various colors that flashed around him. Ziggy's lights were beeping and bleeping, but for some odd reason, the one thing that caught his eye was the floor. Scattered across it were ashes; cigar ashes to be exact. He pondered for several moments why it was that after so many months of helping Sam, he would notice this particular aspect.

Inhaling sharply, Al retrieved the handlink that was on the table and stared down at it. "Ziggy, I need you to tell me what the percentages are for Teresa Bruckner. Although all hell's gone loose around here, I want to know about how she's doing in May, 1996."

"Teresa Bruckner lives in Harrisburg, Arizona. She is attending college, at least that is what the records indicate," Ziggy began. "Although that is what we have, the university's records during that month and year indicate that she is no longer a student there."

"I'm convinced that she's must be the reason why Sam leaped in there. Maybe he could help her, while this Andrew couldn't," Al said. Before waiting for the computer to respond, he punched a code into the handlink. "I'm going to see for myself if there is something I can do for her."

Several minutes later, the imaging chamber walls faded, and he found himself staring out across a room to a run down dwelling. As he beheld the place, he spoke. "Ziggy, what is this place."

"Teresa Bruckner's residence," came the answer.

"This doesn't look like a college dorm room, it doesn't even look like a proper home for anyone," he grumbled as he looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on a dirty windowsill.

He stared at it for several minutes, his gaze coming to rest on a large white candle that was placed in the center on a piece of aluminum foil. Next to it, a book of matches was placed. He could see the tiny flicker of light emerging from the candle. It was at that moment that he realized that this must be their way of indicating to those out on the street that this room was occupied.

He turned back around, hoping that the rest of the room would mark some semblance of improvement, but when it didn't; he took a deep breath and released it slowly. Please let Ziggy be inaccurate, he thought skeptically, don't let Teresa be stuck in this hell-hole.

After several seconds, he could hear the sound of a door suddenly opening and a young woman stumbling into the room. As soon as she had cleared it, she threw it closed behind her.

Al swallowed as he stared at her. The face was the same, her dark doe-like eyes were just as he remembered. "Teresa," he muttered under his breath. He knew that she could not see or hear him, but it did not stop him from speaking her name nonetheless.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he took in her haggard appearance. Instinctively, he could tell that she looked winded, her chest rising with each inhalation. He stared at her as she walked over to the bed and sat down. "Oh God," he eventually heard her speak, and for whatever reason, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

When he finally did manage to open them again, he could see that she was sitting near the head of the bed. From one side, she had leaned herself over so that she was lying against the flat pillow that was placed at the head of the bed. "Why does this keep happening to me?" She asked the stillness.

Al looked over at her. He could see her face as the image of the four-year-old child she had once been, flashed through his mind. He came over to where she was sitting and leaned down so that he would be eyelevel with her. "Oh my poor little munchkin," he whispered as he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder but watched as it passed through her. "How did you end up in this dive, Teresa?"

By this time, Al wanted nothing more to vent his overwhelming fear of seeing someone he cared for in such a desperate state. Without realizing what had happened, he could suddenly feel the tears that caught in the corner of his eyes as he stared at her. Subconsciously, he ran his hand down over his face and smeared the tears away.

Lowering his hands once again, he took a deep breath as he felt himself drawn back to the time they had sat together and were looking at dinosaurs. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as her words suddenly resonated through the empty room and filled his ears.

"My head hurts so much," she whispered softly.

He stood, his body towering over her. They remained in this stance until the sounds of someone singing shattered the moment and caused her to raise her head. She took a deep breath as the sounds grew louder in volume and she released an unhappy sigh.

"Not that song again," she whispered. "It brings back too many memories…"

Al raised his head and stared towards the wall where the sounds were echoing in from. Unlike Teresa, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he began to softly sing along, his voice off key.

"Every time I hear that song, I remember more and more about that time in my life that I would just like to forget," she whispered. She shook her head until someone knocked at the door, all the while distracting her from the present annoyance.

She slowly managed to get up off the bed and walk over to the door. "Who's there?" She eventually called out, her voice scratchy.

"It's me, Bear," the voice emerged.

Slowly, she opened the door to reveal a tall man dressed in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt. A beard covered his chiseled chin and his hair hung in clumps down over his shoulders. His 'name' seemed to be more fitting than anything, as he looked to have a stature of a linebacker.

Teresa took a deep breath and spoke, her voice emerging almost too chipper and Al raised his head with disbelief when he heard it. "What do you need?" She asked.

"Nothing much," he grunted. "It's just that I saw what that bitch downstairs did to you and wanted to come by and see if you were alright," the burly man said as he ran his hand through his tangled hair.

"I'm fine, Bear, don't worry about me," she said calmly.

"You gonna report this to the cops?" He asked curiously.

"You know as well as I that they don't give a damn about people like us, we're nothing but a thorn in their sides," she said bravely. "Besides, I'll be fine, I just got a little winded is all."

"Winded, my ass," Al snorted as he punched some commands into the handlink and swallowed when the results came up. When they did, he backed away from the two of them and shook his head. "Oh God, please don't let her have another confrontation with Victoria Livingston," he found himself praying as he turned and watched as Bear was about to take his leave.

"You sure you're gonna be alright?" He asked as he started to step out in the empty hallway.

"I'll be fine, Bear, don't worry about me," she said but watched as he nodded but ambled back down the hall. She released a pent up breath as soon as he rounded the corner. "I should have told him the truth, but I know how he worries about me," she muttered as she closed the door, her weight shifting as her hand came to rest against her forehead.

Seconds later, she returned to the bed and sat back down, her eyes momentarily closing.

Instead of saying anything else, Al pressed the buttons on the handlink and watched as the room and Teresa vanished. "I don't care what you say, Ziggy," he groused when he once more could see the walls surrounding the imaging chamber. "Sam and I are going to help her get out of there. Percentages or no percentages, I am now convinced that he leaped into Andrew to help her."

When Ziggy did not respond, he returned the handlink to the console and left the imaging chamber, his next stop pointedly clear. He was going to have to swallow his pride and try and resolve his dreams and whatever conflict still existed between him and Andrew.


	12. Chapter 11

_Again I want to thank my reviewers for their comments. I am letting some time pass between chapters because I really want to make these updates good and worth reading._

_I hope you enjoy this. Thanks to Elizabeth Hensley for making note of the archeology reference, I have made the necessary change, but wanted to send out my thanks for that.  
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**Chapter 11**

_(Still in New Mexico, 1999)_

As Al made his way back down the hall towards the waiting room, he could still hear the song 'Inchworm' resonating in his mind. It was now closing in on four in the morning by this time, but he did not seem to care.

The hallway was still pretty much empty and his tired gaze seemed to wander from one side of the corridor to the other. When he finally reached the door to the waiting room, he stopped for a moment and asked himself if Andrew would even be awake.

He pressed down on the handle until the door slid opened and he entered the room. In the dim lighting, he could see that Andrew was lying on the bed in the corner, but he did not appear to be asleep. If Al did not know better, he could have sworn that the other man was awake and had been anticipating his eventual return.

Allowing the door to close behind him, he stared for several moments at Andrew until he eventually sat up and turned around. As soon as he had made eye contact with the observer, he spoke, his voice emerging soft, but all the while, non-confrontational. "You couldn't sleep either?"

Al was taken somewhat by surprise by Andrew's overall demeanor. Here was a guy who he had accused of some pretty devilish things, and yet, he turned around and spoke kindly to him. Generally, Al knew that whenever someone was verbally assaulted, they would not approach the other person and speak in such a conciliatory manner.

Of course, Al was not willing to look this particular gift horse in the mouth, he considered it as an invitation to dialogue, and hoped that this time he might actually get something that could help his friend in 1996.

Stepping closer, he wordlessly sat down beside Andrew and waited, all the while hoping that the angel would speak so he would not have to.

After several minutes had passed, Andrew eventually obliged and his words emerged. "I'm sorry if my reactions upset you the last time we spoke. I did not anticipate having to explain who I am to you or if you would even accept it on words alone. You can understand why I was afraid, can't you?"

"I suppose," Al said begrudgingly. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked out across the whiteness of the room. "Sometimes I get scared, and I guess after I left, I realized that no one really likes being confronted when they are. Afterwards, I left here and went home. I know that getting angry with you was not going to help anyone; not Sam, or you, or even Teresa."

"Is that why you came back?" Andrew asked.

"I don't know, I couldn't sleep, and I figured that since I spend so damn much time here anyway that it seemed the most logical place for me to go," he said honestly. "I kept being reminded of Teresa and everything that happened when Sam leaped into her mother. It was 1982 and she was just five-years-old."

"You remember her often, don't you?" Andrew asked. "Even when Sam is not leaping into someone who happens to be close to her."

"I guess I do," Al nodded. "I got to be her angel, even though I don't really believe in them. I remember how she looked to me as a friend and knew somehow that I could be trusted. It was a strange and wonderful experience, but at the same time, it was also unsettling. I started feeling as though I had somehow lied to her. I was telling her stories and how I was 'Angel Al'. I knew that I wasn't, but how do you explain quantum leaping to a five-year-old?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, you simply tapped into her fantasies and gave her a comforting image," Andrew said. "I would guess that in her heart, she viewed you as an angel, because you gave her hope."

"I don't know about that, I was just there to help her brother," Al said. "She was so little and I knew that she couldn't understand the finite details of a time travel experiment gone amuck."

"So that's basically what this is," Andrew said. "Somehow, I think God may be more involved in this than you think." He reached over and rested his hand on Al's shoulder. "Maybe in all of this, Teresa Bruckner is starting to remember the impact you had on her life."

"I don't know about that," Al said.

"But you do know that she needs to remember not only how you and Sam came into her life the first time, but also how you are there for her now. For whatever reason, I believe that Sam is there to help save her life."

Al shook his head. "Maybe, but this time it's much harder. Teresa is an adult now and when I'm there, she can't see or hear me. Anything that I might say to her would mean _nada_ to her. She has absolutely no clue that I'm even present, or that Sam is present. I was just in her room some ten minutes ago, and she was oblivious to my presence. For some idiotic reason, I tried to speak to her, but there was know acknowledgement at all."

Andrew looked at him. "I don't think that's entirely true."

"What do you mean? Are you trying to play this 'I'm an angel', bit with me?" Al asked somewhat on edge.

"No, I'm saying that I think that she does remember you. Think about it, Al, there is something inside of her that is forcing her to recollect that time in her life. Through her environment and interactions, she can begin to accept that part of herself again."

Al shook his head adamantly. "Even if that's true, I just told you that she cannot see or sense that I'm even there. I started dancing the rumba in her room, she would not recognize my presence. When she looks at Sam, she sees you; shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes, the works. It is exactly what happens when you look into a mirror here; you see Sam's face. Teresa cannot see or recognize the familiarity of Sam Beckett anymore. When we were with her before, Sam was pretending to be her mother and she saw Sam for who he was, but now when she looks at him, all she can see is Andrew looking back at her. She can't see Sam anymore, and he can't tell her who he is."

"So that's why there's no mirror in here," Andrew concluded as he cast a glance around the room.

"Yeah," Al said. "Do you know what would happen if these people came in here and saw themselves as Sam Beckett?"

"I think they'd get a little bit nervous," Andrew said.

"That's an understatement. Try them freaking out beyond recognition. That's why we have the room set up like this," Al explained. "When someone new comes in, the best thing to do is to give them something that they cannot compare anything to. No fat, thin, short, or tall, just a white room with nothing in it."

"I see, but when I touch my hair or face, I do know it's different; that it's not really me," Andrew said.

"Let's just say we tried, but no system is without flaw. We sort of have to do what we can to keep the freaking out at a minimal," Al said.

The two men sat in companionable silence for about ten minutes. Andrew finally turned and looked at him, the silence abruptly breaking as his next words emerged. "Al, if there's anything I can do, I want to help you reach Teresa."

"How?" Al asked. "You already have your hands full with Paula, and besides that; I have a hard time grasping that you have any idea of what is going on back in 1996. Maybe you're just supposed to sit tight and wait this one out."

Andrew took a deep breath, but shook her head. "You know I can't do that, I am getting images in my mind of some dwelling with a candle in the window and a young woman who is suffering. How can I be here and still see these things in my mind? Do you know what I heard just know?"

"What?" Al asked.

"I heard something that sounded like a prayer. I don't know why I did, but a woman's voice entered my mind and she was talking about a song an angel sung to her when she was just a child. It made no sense to me, but I think it was Teresa," Andrew said.

"What song was it?" Al asked.

"'_Inchworm_'," Andrew responded simply as the color faded from Al's cheeks. "She went on to say that every time she heard it, she thought her heart was going to break apart because she missed the person whom she grew up believing was her angel. She remembered how he smoked cigars and carried a rainbow of flashing lights around in his pocket. Every so often, he would pull the object out and use it to make pictures of dinosaurs out of thin air. She's asked God to tell her where her angel had gone, but for the most part, she has ceased to believe that God loved her or that she was worthy of having an angel sent to her."

"You heard all that?" Al asked.

"I don't know why I could hear this, but yes for some reason, I heard it," Andrew said.

"That's strange."

"Perhaps," Andrew said as he released a pent up breath. "There are some things I cannot explain."

Al swallowed. "You know things about her that only Sam or I could know."

"I hear what God wants me to hear," Andrew said with a slow nod. "If I were to have lied to you about any of this, then I would be in far more trouble than you could imagine." Al said nothing, but that seemed not to matter because Andrew continued. "I know that you still don't believe me. You have been consumed with your past experiences as well as these wrongly perceived notions about God." When Al offered no response to these words, he continued. "I understand."

"It's just too far-fetched for me to believe," Al said. "I always thought that if angels really existed, there was no way that Sam could actually leap into one. I'm starting to wonder, especially since you know so many these things about Teresa and me. You probably also know about these dreams that I've been having. They only started after Sam…" He took a deep breath but shook his head.

"…Leaped into my life," Andrew finished. "Your dreams are what led you back here, aren't they?"

"Are you saying that you had something to do with them?" Al responded to this question with one of his own.

Andrew shook his head. "No, I didn't, but it seems that God wanted you to come back and you eventually did."

"You knew that I was having those kind of dreams, didn't you?" Al asked.

"I do not know the content of your dreams, but I do know that if you were having strange dreams that they could be interpreted as messages from God," Andrew said. "I know I hurt you with what I was saying about this. I was trying to remember things about myself that I had forgotten. I know that it's no excuse, but it is the truth."

Al nodded. "It's OK."

"No, it's not OK, it scared you and it was unfair of me to push the issue," Andrew said.

"I don't know about that," Al said. "Perhaps it is not wise to admit that a person can say things that leaves the impression that they can be read like a dime store novel. When it comes to things like God, I have a lot of questions and even more bitterness than you can shake a stick at."

"Why?" Andrew asked.

"Well, among other things, I felt abandoned by Him. First, when my father died and then later being sent to Vietnam and getting captured there. By the time I got back home, my first wife had left me," he admitted. "Her name was Beth and she was the only woman I ever really loved. Perhaps that's why I've not always been at my best when it came to women. After we got divorced, I had four other wives, but none of them could compare to her. With her gone, my dreams of 'happily ever after' were pretty much gone. I suppose, there's nothing worse than having to look back on your life and see how much there is left to regret. The truth is, Teresa sparked those ideas of my being a father and they were painful, but they were also kind of nice, too."

"And now you and Sam has the chance to help her again," Andrew said.

"Maybe, but her fancies about seeing angels and holograms just can't happen anymore," Al said. "There's no longer any sort of 'alpha phase' with her. She lost all of that when she grew up."

"Maybe she didn't entirely," Andrew mused. "Faith can have wonderful and lasting impacts on people, especially those who still feel drawn to believe."

"But does she?" Al asked.

"Well, my friends and I wouldn't be there if her faith was completely gone," he said simply. "Perhaps, you and Sam can try and find out."

Al shook his head. "No, it's impossible. Teresa's all grown up, she's seeing the harshness of life, and even though Sam's in a position to help her, he may not be able to. Ziggy's statistics are all over the board, and I can't do anything except try and get information from you that might help." As he spoke, he clapped Andrew on the shoulder. "Thanks anyway."

"When are you going to accept that I'm telling you the truth about who I am?" Andrew asked.

"You mean about you being an angel?"

Andrew wordlessly nodded.

Al shook his head. "I don't know if I can. Andrew, why can't we just leave it as I know that you're a nice guy, and you probably don't mean anyone any harm. I have a very hard time believing in angels and an even harder time believing that quantum physicists can leap into them. The truth is, I'm sort of in limbo about the whole thing. On top of that, I have no idea if what I'm doing is going make a damn bit of difference here."

"God can make something beautiful out of all of this, Al," Andrew said. "If you let Him."

"I don't know if I can just up and say I can trust God after everything He's gone and taken away from me. That's a tall order. Even if your God is different than the God the church tried to drum into my head for most of my youth, it's not easy to take forty plus years of experiences and change them over night. You tell me, what sort of God would leave a kid orphaned when they are eleven?"

"I don't know, Al, but I do know that God does love you and He does care about what happens to you," Andrew said.

"Just like I figured, you don't have the answers to that one, either, do you?" Al said.

"I'm an angel, Al, I'm not God, I don't have all the answers," Andrew said softly.

"I figured as much," he mumbled under his breath.

After several more minutes of silence passed, Andrew looked over at the Project Observer. "Even if you don't believe me, we are on the same side."

"I know, but part of me still thinks you're trying to string me along," Al said bluntly. "Your knowledge of my tour in Vietnam was really quite hard for me to swallow."

"I wasn't trying scare you, but I realize that my knowing things about you was the only way I could convince you that I was telling the truth," Andrew said. "I'm sorry if that ended up hurting you."

"Well, since you know so much about these things, maybe you can enlighten me as to how Teresa ended up in Harrisburg," Al said, all the while trying to conveniently change the subject.

"From what I understand; she wanted to go to school and study paleontology there," Andrew said.

"To study?" He asked and when Andrew nodded, he continued. "I remember how her knowledge of dinosaurs was pretty amazing. I used to show her these pictures of them and she knew them all by name. Sam thought she was too little for that, but he really underestimated her. She was as sharp as a tack, but that doesn't explain why she's stuck living in that hell hole."

"Teresa didn't end up homeless because she wanted it, she was abandoned by her father a second time. Several years ago, he had came back into her life and promised her that he would finance her studies. After several months into it, he got remarried and stopped payment on her tuition."

"Let me guess, those tightwads at the university didn't think twice about tossing her out on her ass," Al grumbled. Once Andrew had nodded, he continued, this time his voice was filled with harsh undertones. "It stands to reason I guess, I don't know of too many universities who know about how to be compassionate towards their students when times get tough. Do you know what's going to happen to her?"

"No, I can't say for certain what will happen, I just know what happened, and what ultimately was supposed to bring us to Harrisburg. I just now recalled how Tess was telling us about Teresa before Sam leaped in. Maybe Sam is where he should be and I'm where I should be."

Al shook his head. "That doesn't entirely explain what is going on. I know that we're going to keep going in circles with this, but it all gives me the heebie-jeebies. When I stop and think about how you travel incognito, have no last name, and I can't find out a damn thing about you through conventional means. I'm at a loss here and if we don't start coming up with some useful information pronto, then we'll never figure out why Sam leaped into you in the first place. If we don't figure that out, then Sam can't leap out again and you can't go back."

"Even after all of this, you still don't believe me," Andrew said weakly.

"I want to believe you," Al said. "The problem is, my logic is telling me that I am stuck at square one. Even though I know that you're not a hit-man, something is amiss here."

"Do you believe that I am at least being sincere?" Andrew asked.

"I believe that," Al said. "Look, I'm going to go back and see if I can help Sam with any of this. Maybe once I talk to him, we can find some sort of common ground here with all of this."

Andrew nodded and watched as Al got to his feet and walked towards the door. Before the door slid open, Al turned around. "You know, Andrew, maybe you should think about that issue of Paula while I'm trying to figure all this other stuff out. It seems strange that the same person's suicide has affected you both."

Andrew nodded as the Observer disappeared outside.


	13. Chapter 12

_Thanks for the reviews, and I hope that you are enjoying this. I am splitting the scene into two chapters so as to not overwhelm anyone reading. I hope that you enjoy this latest installment._

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**Arizona 1996**

After leaving Monica, Sam raced down the hall and outside without stopping to think about the consequences of his actions. He was worried about how much longer he would be able to maintain his cover, but at the same time, he felt as though he was running head first into a brick wall.

If I am an angel, then I have no idea how to be an angel, he thought. His mind was still wracking havoc on his conscience as he thought about his last conversation with Monica. This was getting too strange for him. Generally Al was one who believed in the supernatural and strange, but he was starting to wonder if there was any sort of truth to what he had been told.

He glanced around and noticed that he was still alone. Al had not made an appearance as of yet and he figured that his guide was off doing something else like chasing skirts. He smiled wryly as he slowly made his way towards the building where Teresa lived.

Sadly, he could not remember all that much about Teresa Bruckner, his memories of her were trapped away in a vague kaleidoscope of images, none of which made any sense. He had only a vague memory of blonde headed woman dressed in a denim skirt and white blouse, but aside from that, everything was completely sketchy. He was able to remember small aspects of this because Al had mentioned her name since he had leaped into Andrew.

In addition to that, Monica had said that Teresa was his 'assignment'. On top of that, Monica was starting to call him on every single mistake he made and this was quickly getting on his nerves. Had she or Tess finally figured out that he was not who he said he was? The questions seemed to constantly ravage his mind.

Shrugging this off, he continued his way towards the door that was hanging from one bolt over the entrance. As he was about to reach out and shove it aside, a familiar voice emerged. "Hi Sam."

Sam's body jolted as though stunned, but he abruptly turned around and faced Al, who was standing directly behind him. The hologram looked tired, but otherwise seemed to be in a relatively high spirits.

"What happened to you?" He asked as he took in the wrinkled look that seemed to encase his friend. "You look like you got into a fight with an alley cat and lost."

"Nah, it's no big deal," Al responded with a casual shake of his hand. "I just spent the better part of the morning hours talking to Andrew and trying to make heads or tails of what the hell's going on. You know, Andrew's not half bad. Maybe we were wrong about him, because he's too much a softie to be somebody's hired gun. In fact, there's something in him that's making me start to believe that he could be an angel."

"You seem to believe in people quicker than I do," Sam mused. "Did you find out anything? I mean, besides those gory images of crime stories gone awry that you conveniently left dancing in my head last night."

"I know I was acting kind of freaky," Al mused. "But I didn't have anything to go on, so I left it to my imagination."

"That's dangerous, Al, especially when I happen to know more about your imagination than I'd care to," Sam asked with an arched eyebrow as well as a smirk gracing his lips. "So tell me, did you manage to unearth something new about him through Ziggy?"

"Nah, I just talked to Andrew. Besides that, Ziggy's proven to be about as useful as a rubber pencil," Al grumbled. "We may have figured out why you and Andrew switched places, though. That egotistical computer was giving me hell about it with all her statistics, but none of them seemed to be adding up. Of course, she kept insisting that you were not supposed to help Teresa, but it turns out, I think you are."

"I figured on that since Tess and Monica kept insisting that Teresa is Andrew's 'assignment'," Sam said.

Al took a deep breath and released it as a tired sigh. "Sam, do you remember anything about your leaping into Linda Bruckner several months back? I mean anything at all?" He asked.

"All I know about her is what you told me," Sam said shaking his head.

"OK, the long and the short of it is that you leaped into Linda to keep her eldest son, Kevin from disappearing. Her youngest daughter, Teresa, was this little munchkin that I read stories and sang songs to. She could see us for who we were and called us by name, and now she's all grown up."

"Well, if it helps, there is something familiar about this young homeless girl I saw walking across the parking lot last night. She was dressed in a blue and white striped dress and had thin jacket hanging from her shoulders. She looked to be about twenty or so with dark hair."

"That was Teresa," Al said. "It surprised the hell out of me to see her again, especially in this state."

"How did you know that it was her?" Sam asked. "Lat night it was pretty dark, I couldn't even make out her face."

"I saw her earlier this morning, and talk about being surprised. Of course, I was glad to see her, but she's not doing all that well, Sam. Andrew seems to think that we're supposed to do something that will save her life and after what I saw, I can't help but agree. Of course, I'm more inclined to believe him over Ziggy at this point."

"OK, so what can we do?" Sam asked.

"Ziggy and Andrew both seem to be in agreement about her dying, and we need to be there to prevent it. He insisted that we could get involved and help, but if you do too much, you might make his two friends suspicious. That is if you do too much, then you might succeed in blowing your cover…"

"…Forget that, Al, I may have already blown it with Tess and Monica," Sam finished dryly.

"So anyway, Andrew seems to think that our presence here may be what saves Teresa. He said that although he cannot help her, maybe you can."

"No I can't, you just said it," Sam muttered. "If I try to help her too much and then step too far out of character, then everyone is going to know that I'm not Andrew." He took a deep breath. "I woke up this morning to having Monica come in and give me the third degree about leaving my 'assignment' alone when she was being pushed around by the woman who runs this dump."

"Yeah," Al said. "I know, and Ziggy says that Victoria Livingston has a history of violent behavior. I guess it's been that way since her father was murdered on the streets. Strange how this sort of thing can leave such an adverse affect on people."

Sam shook his head. "How could someone do such a thing?"

"Well, people harbor animosity against those they perceive as a guilty party. Generally, power games are played by people like her everyday and through it, the helpless become even more helpless. Sam, this isn't just some freak instance, it happens everyday somewhere in the world." He took a deep breath and then released it. "She's in really bad shape, Sam."

"Somehow I could tell," he said, but motioned towards the building. "Do you know what room she's using?"

Al began to punch some commands into the handlink and then nodded. "Try 24, it's on the second floor. Just be careful climbing the stairs, this place looks like it's going to come tumbling down with one wrong move."

Sam nodded and once more started towards the building all the while trying to sort out what he was going to say to the young woman once he found her. He couldn't very well tell her the truth, but he also knew that he could not just bust into her room without saying something.

Instead of speaking, he walked towards the door leading inside. He pushed his way through it and started to make his way down the hall.

"Hey," a voice suddenly emerged. Sam slowly turned around to see a large, burly man standing in the corridor. His tall frame was blocking the stairwell and he regarded Sam through hostile coal black eyes. "You don't look like you belong here, boy scout," the man continued, his lips curled up in a threatening sneer.

Sam took a deep breath as he took in the man's attributes. He looked to be close to six feet tall, had long brown hair pulled back in a rubber band. An unkempt beard lined his chiseled face, and a bent cigarette was clenched tightly between his teeth. As the smoke rose and circled about his head; it hovered like a halo before disappearing into nothingness. As it vanished, a stench of nicotine was left in its wake. The man looked at Sam as he pulled the cigarette out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm looking for a girl," he began, all the while trying all the while to keep his voice level and not show the man that his presence was intimidating.

"Ain't we all?" The man chortled as though he just had told the funniest joke in the world. "Now, tell me who the hell you are and what you want." He stepped closer to Sam, the pungent odor of stale beer and nicotine emanating the air that surrounded him. Sam tried to keep his stance, but found it to be quite difficult as the stench was quite overwhelming.

"I already told you," he said evenly. "I am looking for a young girl who was apparently beat up out in the parking lot earlier today."

"Oh, so now you're trying to play the good Samaritan and protect her, is that it?" The man asked.

"You might say that, do you know where she is?" Sam asked. "She's got dark hair and was wearing a blue and white colored dress."

"I know, but that don't mean that I am going to let the likes of you trail after her," he said as he put his hands on his hips and tried to puff his chest up to look bigger than he already was.

"Please, I mean her no harm, I just want to help her," Sam said.

"Help yourself to her, you mean, don't ya, pretty boy?" The man asked.

"No, want to help her, she's very sick and she needs a doctor," Sam said.


	14. Chapter 13

_A/N: Since only two people are reviewing this story (thanks to Samwiseatheart and Onlyaman), I have decided to divide up my writing time between this story and another story called 'In Another's Eyes'. I don't like to ask or beg people to review, but since these two wonderful people are the only ones who are, I figure that it sort of excuses me from having to apologize whenever there is a lapse of time between updates._

_At any rate, since I've been working so much on the other story, I will beg forgiveness if there are some beta problems in this chapter. I read through it several times trying to catch everything. If there happens to be any small stylistic errors that I missed, that you leave the notation in the review and I will do what I can to correct or fix said problems. Again, I generally beta my work (reading it aloud generally helps in that regard), but I'm only one person and am not perfect._

_Anyway, on with the story. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 13**

As soon as the words had emerged, Sam started to look for some trace of belief in the man's expression. Yet the more he looked, the colder the man's expression remained.

"How would you even know what she needs?" The man asked.

"I suppose you could say that I have a background in medicine," Sam began.

"Yeah, right, and my next of kin is Santa Claus," he returned with a disbelieving snort. "What is it you really want?"

"I don't want anything, except to help her," he said all the while feeling as though he was going in circles with this guy. Al had said during one of his earlier leaps that he knew martial arts, but he was not the sort of person to use them unless he had to. Soon the man's voice brought him back to the present.

"Why would you even care?" The man asked.

"I just do," Sam said, but took a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair. "Do I really need to have a reason to that is going to pass some sort of unwritten test?" When the man did not answer, he continued to speak his voice etched in worry. "Maybe I do, and perhaps what I am going to tell you will be believable. This morning, my friend Monica saw her getting pushed around out in the parking lot by Victoria Livingston, and I wanted to check and see if she was alright. Monica seemed to be under the impression that something was not quite right with Teresa."

"I don't know," the man muttered. After several minutes of contemplating Sam's words, his silence eventually broke. "I can tell you this, I know for a fact that she ain't gonna say nothin' about what Livingston did, so you might as well give up on that. The law around here doesn't give a rat's ass about us homeless people. They have pretty much rallied behind that bitch. For all I know, they have basically shoved their politics into her corner and support her efforts to try and get rid of every last one of us," he said curtly. "That's probably the reason why I don't want to trust you, too many bad things have happened to the people here, things they don't deserve."

"In other words, you don't feel as though you have a voice here," Sam said.

"Damn straight," the man grumbled.

"Well, I don't know if I can put your worries at ease, but I do know about Victoria Livingston and her actions. These actions could prove fatal to Teresa. I know about her headaches and dizzy spells, I also know that a twenty-year-old girl doesn't stand a chance in this sort of lifestyle without some help. I think that all of you deserve more than to be sociological cast-offs, I think you know that you deserve better, that life shouldn't overlook you because of prejudice."

The man stuffed the cigarette back in his mouth. "Perhaps," his gruff voice softened somewhat. "The question is, are you the one who is going to help her or do you have some other twisted notion in mind? She ain't no slut, Mister, she is not one to go to highest bidder, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean and I agree with you," Sam said calmly. "I wouldn't hurt her, I couldn't. I knew her when she was a little girl and a true friend would never do that sort of thing."

"You know her old man tossed her out the minute he got hitched?" The man asked.

"I heard something to that affect, but it was all pretty much hearsay," he nodded.

"Well, I'll tell ya this, it's not hearsay, it's the truth." He took a deep breath. "Alright, I'll show you where she's staying, but if I even hear that you've harmed one hair on her head, I'll take you out myself." As he spoke his eyes narrowed as he took another drag on the cigarette.

"I know about feeling protective of others, I feel the same way," Sam said. "I'm not here with the intention of hurting anyone, I give you my word on that. Right now, based on what I've seen, she's going to at least need a shower and some warm food. Not to mention having someone do some tests on what might be causing those dizzy spells and headaches."

"Yeah, she said that she gets 'em rather frequent like," he said with a nod.

"Do you think that just anyone out there would know about her headaches and intend harm to her?" Sam asked as he waved his arm around where they were standing.

"No," he mused, but disbelief still seemed to etch its way across his forehead. "You really want to help her, huh?"

"That's what I said," Sam responded patiently.

"It's awfully good of you," He deposited the cigarette onto the floor and mashed it out with the toe of his shoe. "You know, ever since I showed up around these parts, Teresa came out and helped me. Before she came along we only did what we could to stay alive. We didn't much care about the other guy, we only did for ourselves. Our motto was 'survival of the fittest'. Then she came along and saw every single one of us as a human being worthy of respect and love. She gave other people the shirt off her own back and started to look out for them. Suddenly, the whole essence of this place changed and we started to help each other out in return. We all felt good about it, I mean; that little girl did so much for all of us."

"What did she do for you?" Sam asked.

"Which time?" He asked.

"Pick one," Sam said.

The man took a deep breath and coughed before he spoke. "She got me to stop popping pills," he said. "I still smoke and drink now and again, but at least I'm not walking around in a virtual fog."

"How did she manage to do that?" Sam asked. "Some addictions take a long time to overcome. How did you manage?"

"I don't know how exactly," he said shaking his head. "Maybe they weren't all that strong, I don't really know. I guess several weeks before I got really sick, she came up to me and started talking to me. She was telling me that I had pretty eyes and that she felt sad that I had lost so much hope. I had told her that I ended up here after my wife died, and she rested her hand on my shoulder and said: 'There are other people in this world who need you'. It was wacky, but later I started talking to some guy and out of the blue he said that he was leaving town and going back to see his son. He was carrying on about how he was needed, and suddenly Teresa's words became clear to me that I was needed too. That night, I took my last pill. The withdraw was hell, but I have managed to stay away from them. I guess deep down inside, I realized that I'm no help to anyone in a drugged out stupor, least of all myself."

"In essence it was the words of these two people who caused you to stop," Sam said.

"I give the credit to Teresa, that other fellow just happened by," the man said. "You see, I live out back behind that building in a large box. It's not much, but at least it's protection from the rain and the elements. I had gotten sick, I mean, really sick, and this all happened in the dead of winter. It was from that flu bug that was going around. Teresa had been in this building only a week and she gave up her room for me. She moved in the dead of winter in with Mrs. Rodriguez and little Charlie. You gotta know that this kid drove her completely nuts always wantin' to sing nothin' but little kiddie songs. I told Teresa that I could have handled it outside, but she insisted that I take the room, so I did. Two weeks later, I was healthy again and could move back outside."

"That was really nice of her," Sam nodded. "Given how cold it is at night during that time of the year, one could say that she saved your life."

The man nodded. "She came to me and told me that I would probably die out there and that I should take the room until I got back on my feet. After I moved into her place, I started hearing and finding out stuff about her that made me really sad. She told me that she had been at the university to study but her daddy ditched her in the middle of it. She got booted out of her dorm, and didn't have the money to go back home. I think she was embarrassed about it, but I never said anything to her about it. Later, she told me that she didn't want to go back and drop this sort of bombshell on her mother."

"That's tough," Sam responded.

"Well, that's not all. Seems in the midst of all of this, she's not lost her humanity, because she went and spent the last of her money on medicine, juice, and soup to take care of me. That little girl helped when everyone else in this God-forsaken town turned their backs. Like the law here, people just don't care, they look at me and see a vagrant, but they refuse to look deeper. They don't see that I have a name and an identity. I lost everything after my wife died."

"What is your name?" Sam asked.

"Just call me 'Bear', that's what everyone else around here calls me," he said.

Sam nodded. "I'm glad I met you Bear, but I really should go find Teresa."

"It shouldn't be a problem, just follow the stairs up to the second floor. Be careful going up, some of the steps are broke and you could end up twisting an ankle something fierce. I did once and couldn't walk right for about two weeks," Bear said.

"Thank you," he said and followed the man towards the stairwell. Once they had reached the top of the stairs, he led her down the hall and Sam followed until they stopped in front of a door.

"Here it is, I just stopped in to see her earlier, but she didn't say much to me. Maybe she'll say something to you. I'm gonna head out, I'll see you 'round," he said. "You remember my warning, though, you hurt her and I beat you to a pulp."

"I won't hurt her, Bear," Sam said smiling slightly as he watched the man disappearing down the hall. After a few moments, he knocked on the door and waited. "Teresa?" he eventually called out when no one answered his knock. He tried again, but when the door remained closed, he reached for the knob and turned it.

As the door slowly gave way, he peered around it and looked into the room.

"Teresa, are you in here?" He called out, his voice soft.

"W-what do you want?" A female voice emerged and he could tell that from the cadence of it, that she was frightened.

He turned in the direction of where the voice had originated and could see her in the corner of the room, the shadows playing across her face. "Don't be afraid, Teresa, my name is Andrew, and I'm here to help you."

"Why would you want to help me?" She asked.

"You met my friend Monica earlier today and she said that you had been assaulted by the woman that runs the hotel. I wanted to come see you and find out if there was anything I could do," he said.

"What's in it for you?" She asked.

"Why must there always be something in it?" He shot back. "Does it strike you as so odd that someone might actually want to help you? Word going around here is that you have done an awful lot to help the people in a similar plight as the one you're in." As he spoke, he came closer to where she was sitting and sat down next to her. "I heard that you helped them when they were sick and in need of food and clothing. I suppose it would seem that now the time has come for someone to come and return the favor to you." He reached over and touched her shoulder, thus causing her to turn around, her eyes now level with his. "I met your friend 'Bear' and he told me to tell you 'hey'."

"H-he w-wouldn't have let you in here," she said, her voice trembling. "H-he'd have stopped you before you could even come upstairs."

"He did initially try, but he let down his guard because I think he knew that you needed help," Sam said. "Did you see him after Victoria Livingston hurt you?"

"I only saw him for a minute, he came to check on me. But I don't think this is any big deal, she didn't hurt me or anything, she just pushed me," she whispered. "It's really no big deal."

"It is a big deal," Sam said as he shook his head. "Do you think that you deserve to be pushed around like that by others?"

She shrugged her shoulders, not offering him any sort of answer. Instead, she lowered her head and rubbed her forehead with her hands.

"You don't," he affirmed when she said nothing. As he watched her, he could not help but notice how she kept resting her head in her hands. "Are you in some kind of pain, Teresa?"

"No, not very much anyway," she whispered, her fingertips still brushing gingerly against her forehead. "It'll go away, it usually does."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know about that. How long have you been having these headaches?"

"I don't know," she muttered. "Not long, a few weeks maybe."

"You really should see a doctor about them," he said.

"Perhaps, but do you know how many doctors in this crummy town would want to see the likes of me?" She asked. "I can tell you, if 'Bear' didn't give you the low down on the politics around here, then I can."

"He said that the law was corrupt with regards to its treatment of the homeless," he said firmly.

"Yes, well, just about everyone I have met who has not been homeless has had some prejudice about us. There is no one here who would want to help me or anyone else," she said.

"That's where you're wrong, Teresa, I want to help you," he said softly.

"What can you do?" She asked. "When I first got here there was so much egotism in the community, and now the people are starting to change, but those who live in the town are not changing, they are getting worse." A pause, but he watched as she took a deep breath and her words once more filled the room. "That's why I asked if there was something in it for you, because generally whenever people play off the good Samaritan, then it is only on the surface and usually it is done for a tax break."

"That's not the way it is, Teresa," he said.

"Well, all the same, if I can just lay down, then that should take care of the problem." She started to stretch out on the bed, but when he didn't move, she stopped and looked over at him. "Please, just go away."

"I can't just walk out of here. I am not the kind of person who would come in here, see the desperate way you are forced to live, offer my help, and then run away. If I say I am going to do what I can for you, then I mean it. Right now, I think you need some time to rest and recover. Why don't you let me take you back to the hotel?" He offered. "When we get there, you can have a shower and clean up, then we can see about getting you something substantial to eat." He paused and took a deep breath. "I know that you don't really know me, but I do want to help, and I ask only that you let me."

"I'm not looking for handouts, Andrew," she said firmly.

"I know you're not, but if everyone you helped considered what you were doing to be a handout, then there would be no such thing as a good Samaritan around here," he said and offered his hand to her.

"I don't want to put you out," she said insecurely.

"You're not," he said but looked down at his offered hand and then at her. "Please," he repeated these words and watched as she reached out her hand to him. Once she felt his fingers wrapping securely around her hand, she could feel herself slowly being pulled to her feet.

After several minutes, dizziness overcame her and she sank back down on the edge of the bed. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No, it's just that I stood up too quickly and feel kind of dizzy. That was why I didn't open the door when you knocked." As she spoke, she felt teeth biting down on her lower lip.

"When you stand up again, then try leaning up against me, that might help. You look as though you are about to pass out." He put a gentle arm around her. "Let's try again."

Instead of speaking, she managed to get to her feet and eventually allowed her weight to collapse against him. As soon as he felt her weight, he could hear her soft words against his ear. "I'm sorry, am I too heavy?"

"No, you're much too light for a woman your age and height." He said as he started to slowly lead her towards the door leading out into the hall. "We'll soon take care of that though." He smiled down at her as they left the room, the door closing firmly behind them.


	15. Chapter 14

_OK, here's the next chapter. As with chapter 13, please excuse any beta issues. I have been working on another writing project. This is probably the last chapter until sometime next month when we are actually at home. I am leaving to go on vacation, so I will have the chance to work a little on stories while away, but it won't be excessive writing._

_ Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Out in the hallway, Teresa could hear the sounds of the woman in the neighboring room singing. "She's singing that damn song again."

Sam looked at her. "You mean; 'Two and two are four, four and four are eight, eight and eight are sixteen…?"

"…Please don't harmonize," she interrupted him, agony etched in her otherwise exhausted face. She lowered her head as the tears caught beneath her eyes. Stubbornly, she wiped them away and shook her head.

"Do I sing that horribly?" He asked.

"No, it's not you, it's just…oh forget it, it's nothing…" her voice trailed off as she allowed him to lead her towards the stairwell.

Sam took a deep breath. "Look, Teresa, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not you, Andrew," she began. "It's just that for some reason I keep hearing that song and it reminds me of something that I would rather forget about. Yet, it feels as though someone is there to constantly force me to remember it."

"I understand," he said. "Sometimes a song can spark old memories about tragic moments."

"It wasn't really tragic, it's just that it was a good memory that ended too suddenly and…and now I'm here," she said as the descended the staircase. "Be careful, the third step to the base is broken, the people here usually jump over it. You can use the railing, it should help steady you as opposed to ramming your foot through the floor."

"I know about it, Bear actually told me the same thing when we were coming up earlier," he smiled slightly. "He seems to really care for you."

"He's sort of like everyone's big brother around here," Teresa said. "He came here about the same time I did."

"That must have been very difficult for you," he said. "Not what you expected when you left Scottsdale, was it?"

Teresa turned and looked at him, her eyes regarding him somewhat critically. "How'd you know I came from Scottsdale?" She asked, but when he did not respond, she took a deep breath. "Andrew, how did you know that? Don't tell me Bear told you because I never told him. I've never seen you before in my life."

"I met your brother," Sam said. "Several years ago."

"So because of Kevin, you came out looking for me," said pointedly. "Is that it? Kevin probably knows what our father did, and assumed that his little sister was down on her luck." She shook her head and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "It figures, the one thing I would rather him not know about is the very thing he managed to find out from one of his old buddies."

"No, that's not it at all," Sam said. "Teresa, I haven't seen your brother since he was a teenager. He doesn't know about your living conditions, but don't you think he would be concerned if he were to see you now? What do you think your mother and sister might say?"

Teresa shook her head but stopped walking just as they had stepped outside "They all thought I was naïve for believing in our father like I did. They said 'careful, he'll let you down and hurt you just like he did with Mom.' They all knew, but I tried to remember my father, I wanted to remember him, to believe that somewhere I had a father who really loved me." She raised her head and looked at him. "You probably don't understand any of this, but I wanted to believe that I was special enough to have him."

Sam turned and looked at her, his hands coming to rest on both of her shoulders. "Teresa, you are special, you don't have to prove anything to anyone, not your brother, your mother or to me."

"I guess I know that, but still I wanted to give him a chance," she whispered. "Andrew, nothing happened the way I had hoped or anticipated. Instead I ended up abandoned again. So I guess the moral of the story is, I had to learn early on that it is not wise to put that much hope or faith into another person. That's why I try to help the people here. I wanted to show that even though my life sucks, that I can still do something nice for another person. That woman at the hotel makes me think that perhaps that idea is a bit ridiculous."

"But, that's not the way it's supposed to be," Sam said.

"No, but it is the way life is," Teresa said. As she spoke, she took several steps towards Tess' Cadillac, but stopped abruptly as though afraid of the large red colored car. "This morning, I had stepped too close to that car. I had nothing in mind except that I thought it was a beautiful color, like the color of a rose. I wanted to touch it, nothing more," She closed her eyes, but shook her head. "It reminded me of the freedom that can come through a spring day. People don't see that, Andrew, they see me as a vagrant with foul intentions." She sniffed and rubbed her face.

"I don't see you as a vagrant, but I do think we should get you inside, the sun's rays are probably not helping. You need a place where you can rest and get your strength back. Later, will take you to the hospital and see if they can find out what the problem is," Sam said. He wrapped his arm around her and started to lead her closer to the door leading into the hotel.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," she whispered.

"I know, but you need help and as long as I'm here, you're going to get it," he said. He started to gently tug on her arm and they walked several steps away from the car.

"I got pushed earlier because I got too close to the car," she mused.

"I beg your pardon?" Sam stopped walking and turned to face her.

"The woman who owns the hotel probably figured that it would give her a good excuse for trying to hurt another homeless person," Teresa said as she balked, thus preventing him from bringing her inside.

Instead, he stopped beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to be afraid of, I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I wish I could believe that," she said. "I am not a thief and my mother did bring me up right."

"Of that I have no doubt," he said. "Teresa, I want to be your friend, and I know that sometimes all you can do is allow another person inside your world. Let them see you for who you really are. A true friend will help you through the difficult times, but they will also celebrate the fun and exciting times with you. "Right now, you need help, sweetheart, and I want to help you. Will you let me try?"

"Why do you want to help me so badly?" She asked, her voice soft. "There are so many people besides me that you could be helping. They need it more than I do."

"Perhaps, but maybe you're the reason that I'm here," he said.

"What do you mean?" She asked. "Is this just because you're friends with Kevin?"

"No, that's not the only reason," he said. "I'm also your friend from a long time ago. I want to help you realize that you are someone who is more than worthy of human compassion."

"I don't know about that," she mused.

"Oh, I think you are," he said.

"What else do you do?" She asked. "Help hopeless cases?"

"No one is beyond hope, Teresa," he said softly. "Not even you."

She closed her eyes. "You remind me of someone I once knew. His name was Al."

Sam swallowed, but said nothing further, instead, he rested his hand on her shoulder and led her towards the glass doors leading inside.

As they came closer, Teresa backed away from it, the fear now taking hold. "I'm not going in there, she'll kill me with that bat…" As her voice emerged close to a panic, Teresa tried to back away from him, her body wavering like a flag in a breeze. As her breathing got heavier, she sank to her knees. "…I won't go in…"

Sam took a deep breath as Al suddenly appeared.

Just before Sam could offer a response, he heard the familiar sounds of the imaging chamber door opening and Al's voice suddenly filling his ears. "She's right, Sam, Victoria would kill her, and you have to make sure it doesn't happen."

"What should I do?" He asked the distraught girl. "Teresa, tell me what I should do."

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know," she whispered, but soon her body wavered and she suddenly could feel the earth cushioning her body.

"Sam this is not good," Al said. "Her dizzy spells are getting worse. You have to do something."

"What can I do?" He asked. "She needs a doctor."

"You are a doctor, Sam, you are a trained medical professional, you took the Hippocratic oath and would know what to do, so do it," Al pleaded. "It was plain to see that the hologram was as worried about Teresa as Sam, himself was.

Sam got down on the ground next to her and placed his hand on her forehead. "Oh my god, she's burning up."

"Then get her inside. If that old battle axe goes after her, then give her a dosage of your Bruce Lee stuff," Al said firmly.

Sam nodded and in a fluid motion, he picked Teresa's body up in his arms and carried her towards the door. "For now, we will get you inside, but when you are cleaned and fed, I am taking you to the doctor."

She shifted when she felt her feet leaving the ground, but said nothing. She knew that he was now carrying her inside. She clamped her eyes and simply waited as Sam reached the door and pushed it open with his hip.

"So far so good, Sam, but you still better be careful, you've got the barracuda at nine o'clock." As Al spoke, he stuck the cigar into his mouth and took a draw on it before exhaling.

Sam nodded but this time instead of being intimidated, he carried the girl towards the hallway leading to his room.

As soon as he passed by the sliding glass window, he noticed that Victoria had raised her head in order to monitor who was coming or going. As soon as she saw him, she threw the pen across the table and got up, a scowl covering her lips.

Seconds later, she stormed into the hobby. "I won't have it," she shouted indignantly, her voice filling his ears before he had seen her. "You will not bring that…that…thing into my hotel. I don't care if you're a guest, or if your friends are working for me. This is not a soup kitchen."

"Well, Ms. Livingston, I probably wouldn't have to take such drastic measures if you hadn't have accosted her with your baseball bat earlier this morning," Sam said evenly as he turned to face her, his expression filled with hostility. "If I were you, I'd be very careful, because she could very easily press criminal charges against you for assault and I'm going to encourage her to do it."

"I wouldn't bet on that," she said evenly, her eyes bearing into Sam's. "My brother is the sheriff here, and he wouldn't let that happen to me, blood is thicker than water you know."

"She's right Sam," Al said as he punched some commands into the handlink. "It would seem as though her brother is just as bad as she is, if not worse. From the looks of it, Ziggy says there's a 97.9 chance that Teresa could die from a beating by this wench. I'd make sure you keep a close watch on Teresa at all times."

Sam nodded but his gaze shifted and he looked at Victoria. "You know, I really don't care if your brother is the governor of the state. I am not going to sit here and let you harm this child. If I have to, I will go to the State police, they have authority over your brother, and they could have you both up on criminal charges. Might I add that if anyone lays a hand on her while she is here, I will contact the better business bureau and have them investigate your establishment."

Al looked at Sam and nodded. "Sam, that was good, but we're not out of the woods yet." He glanced over towards Victoria and laughed when he saw the hostile look that crossed her face. "Let me just suggest that until Teresa gets out of here, you not leave her side for even an instant."

Sam nodded as he looked down at Teresa. The young woman was now completely passed out and laying like a limp dishrag in Sam's arms.

Wordlessly, he carried her down the hall to his room and when they reached the door, he awkwardly reached into the pocket of his pans and fished out the key.

Once he had unlocked the door, it swung open and he entered. Inside the room, he kicked the door closed with his foot, carried Teresa over to the bed and laid her down on top of the blankets.

Finally, he turned around and faced his guide. "OK, so, tell me something that will help. I'm completely at a loss."

"Well, Ziggy says here that near the end of 1996, she assaults and kills a mentally ill homeless man, ends up arrested, and charged with manslaughter. In 1998, while serving time in a state run facility, she kills herself. Meanwhile, the hotel here gets turned into a parking lot. Not that that would be any great loss since this place is a dive anyway." As he spoke, Al punches more commands into the handlink. "Oh crap," he mumbled after a few moments.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Ziggy says that after Teresa gets killed, Bear goes on a killing spree and ends up killing five people, one of whom is the sheriff, Victoria's brother."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"98.9 percent sure," Al said as he turned the object around and Sam could see the numbers on the keypad. "Sam, the key to all of these things is Teresa. You save her and you'll save Victoria, Bear, and that horrible woman's brother."

"Sounds like a typical day in my life," Sam mused.

Al nodded. "True." He cast a glance towards where Teresa lay on the bed. "What are you going to do about her?"

"I'll let her shower and then see if Monica or Tess can give her something to wear. Then I am going to borrow Tess' car and take her to the hospital and make sure they run some tests on her. If they won't then I have every intention of driving her until I find a place that will help her," Sam said as someone knocked at the door. He started towards it, half expecting to see Victoria Livingston standing on the other side, instead, the minute he pulled it open he was staring into Tess' dark brown eyes.


	16. Chapter 15

_a/n: Sorry for the lacking of updates, but I have been having some serious writer's block going on. I don't know when I will be able to add chapters to this since I am really working on another project. I will try and get the postings up when I get back from the second of our summer vacations._

_That will be in August, so I hope that this will tide you all over until then. Enjoy and thanks to my reviewers for the comments. It's nice to see that there are people still reading this._

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 15**

"We need to talk," she said in a no-nonsense voice.

"OK, Tess," Sam said trying to sound nonchalant. "Let's talk."

Instead of leaving the room, Al decided to stick around. He watched as Tess walked over and sat down at the desk, the chair creaking as her weight settled in it. "Now, baby, I want you to tell me the truth here, and I don't want no beating around the bush."

"Alright," Sam said and cast a fleeting glance over at the sleeping girl in the bed. "Maybe we should go somewhere else, I don't want to wake her up."

"Come to our room," Tess said as she got to her feet and started towards the door. Once she stepped out into the hall, Sam looked at Al, but mouthed three words to him: 'Stay with her'.

Al nodded as Tess and Sam stepped out of one room and into another.

Once they had entered the room across the hall, Tess turned around and looked at him, her stern brown eyes regarding Sam intently. "Alright baby, before this charade goes on any longer, I think we both need to put our cards on the table."

"I guess," Sam mumbled, but internally he was scorning himself. Oh God, I blew it, she knows that I don't even come close to filling Andrew's shoes. He looked over and could see that Tess' gaze was not faltering, in fact, she looked as though she was ready to have a staring contest with him. He took a deep breath and waited for her to start speaking.

"I don't know if what you are doing is intended to bring harm to someone," she began.

"I'd never do anything to hurt anyone, Tess, you should know that by now," he responded.

"Perhaps not, and while I appreciate you being honest with me, I also know that you are not Andrew. In fact, I have suspected that something was wrong since last night. I will also admit that the Father has been very vague about all of this, but I finally did ask Him about you and He said that it was His will and nothing more. With that said, I know that you have a difficult time with this, but perhaps I should start with something easy and I want you to answer me truthfully. What is your name?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Tess, I…" He asked all the while knowing that he was seriously grasping at straws.

"Just tell me who you are and don't tell me that you're Andrew, because I know that you're nothing more than a doppelganger. You look like Andrew, but you most certainly don't act like him," Tess said.

Sam watched her intently, her eyes seemed filled with worry, and he could understand why it was that she was worried. His cover had been blown, his smooth and slick demeanor was fading into nothingness. He knew that it was pointless to even try and continue this with lies and half-hearted cover-ups.

He took a deep breath, but motioned towards a chair. "Maybe you should sit down, this isn't going to be easy to explain," he began.

"I don't know how this is possible, but I know you're not Andrew, you haven't been Andrew, not since last night sometime," Tess said. "You're someone else. I just want to know who you are and where Andrew is."

Sam took a deep breath. "This is not easy, Tess, and you may not believe it but Andrew is in a place called the 'waiting room' back at Project Quantum Leap. He's going to be there until I figure out something that may have gone wrong in his life."

"Andrew's an angel, how can something go wrong in his life?" Tess asked.

"In all honesty, Tess, I don't really know how much of this 'angel stuff' I believe and for the exact reasons that you just stated. The fact is, I am here and Andrew is in 1999. All that I have to go on is this assumption that I have leaped into an angel and that something went wrong and needs fixing," he said. He was beginning to feel a sense of agitation with this dialogue, and yet he could completely understand why it was she was worried. "You asked me to explain and the only way I know how to is based on past experiences. The truth is, I don't fully understand what is happening, I can only assure you that Andrew's safe and that I've just…traded places with him."

"How can you trade places with him?" Tess asked, her voice emerging more or less as a demand as opposed to an inquiry. "Even on a human scale I'm not certain that that is even possible."

"It is possible if you have the right equipment and the technology. This is very difficult for me to explain," Sam said. "My real name is Sam Beckett, and I'm a quantum physicist from the future. I created this time travel experiment which basically says that I can travel in and out of my own lifetime. It was a theory that needed proving, and so I tried it out and it went ga-ga. Now, I leap in and out of people's lives and try to help them by changing small aspects of their lives."

"In other words, you change history," Tess said matter-of-factly.

"I try to change the bad events into something good," Sam said. "Generally, when I finish doing what I have to do, I leap out of their lives and they come back."

Tess said nothing, instead she glanced skyward and shook her head not sure what to say or believe. She believed that Sam was who he said he was, but that did not alleviate the worry that consumed her. She could tell that whatever traces there were of Andrew, they had been removed and she was left staring at someone who was more or less a stranger to her. This caused a lump to catch in her throat. "My angel boy is gone."

"He will come back, Tess," Sam said as he reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I know you miss him."

The weary angel raised her head and looked at him as the light of God's love filled her and she looked at him. "He has assured me that you are telling the truth, Sam, but you also need to know the truth," she paused as he raised his head and beheld how she was bathed in light. "Do you believe me now, Sam?"

The physicist's eyes widened and he nodded, but sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yes, but knowing this only confuses me all the more. How in God's name could I have leaped into angel, and why?"

Tess shook her head. "I don't know, but there's a reason for everything."

"That's what my mother used to tell me, but the problem remains and I can't figure anything out. Tess, you're an angel, and I guess Monica and Andrew are as well."

Tess nodded. "Yes, Andrew is an Angel of Death."

"Ob boy," Sam muttered, but he could almost feel himself being lulled into a sort of panic. "I'm not an angel, I'm just someone who has found himself trapped in a whacked out time travel experiment. I can't fix anything that Andrew could have done, I probably can't even come close."

Tess took a deep breath. "We're both on the same side, baby, just try and relax."

"I can't relax," he shook his head, and for the first time since their conversation had started, she could see that he was frightened. "I don't know what to believe anymore, and I certainly don't know how to be an angel."

"Monica and I will help you with that," she said. By this time, she had stopped glowing and walked over to where he was sitting, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. She chuckled for a split second and he raised his head somewhat. "You pout just like Andrew does," she said, her voice soft. When this did not relax him, she took a deep breath. "You're not alone with this baby. We're here to help you accustom yourself to all of it."

The time traveler nodded, but his thoughts were now centered on Teresa and what all this meant for her. After several seconds, her voice emerged once again and he looked at her. "Perhaps what you said about us working together is really the truth. We can probably accomplish far more working as a team than being separated." She took a deep breath. "Just tell me, is Andrew alright?"

"Yes, but from what Al said…"

"…Al?"

"He's what you would call a liaison between the project and me. He appears as a hologram and generally no one else can see or hear him. He tells me how things are going at the project or gives me the information that I need to have to help the person I leaped into."

"Has Andrew said anything to anyone about this," Tess asked.

"Well, I don't know very much, but Andrew seems to believe that all of this happened because of Teresa's connection to us," he explained. "That's how we knew Teresa in the first place. Some time ago, I leaped into her mother during the time that she was a little girl. She was able to see me for who I was, and she could also see Al. The bond between them started to grow and became something very special, but the problem today is…"

"…Let me guess," Tess interrupted. "That baby grew up and now she can't see this Al at all or even recognize you."

"Yes, and Andrew thinks that perhaps all of this has to do with that other leap," he shook his head. "My mind is so swiss cheesed to the extent that I can't remember much of anything about that other experience. All I can remember are the bits and pieces of it that Al tells me, but that doesn't really help."

Tess nodded understandably. "Well, that could explain why you're here, but it doesn't explain what happened with Andrew and why it is he is the one who is now in this 'waiting room'."

"Perhaps it has to do with the girl that Monica asked me about when I first leaped in;" Sam offered. "She said the name Melanie Stevenson, but otherwise, she did not say anything else about it."

"How much do you know about Melanie?" Tess asked.

"Nothing much, although I did tell Al the name and he started to try and find out information about her," he said. "All I could assume was that she was someone Andrew knew pretty well. I could only gather that because Monica seemed concerned for me, or, in this case, for Andrew."

Tess nodded. "Her concern was well founded. Melanie was a young girl who killed herself back in Albuquerque. She was in a pretty difficult situation, and although Andrew was behaving as though everything was alright after it happened, I was not so sure he really was alright with it," Tess explained. "Perhaps that's why I have no idea specifically when you came in since he had not been himself anyway.

"So basically, you're saying that that could be a reason why it is Andrew is in 1999," Sam concluded.

"I think that the possibility should not be dismissed. He was very unhappy when we left Albuquerque, and I am convinced that that baby really needed some healing. Perhaps while he is there, your friend Al should try and get him to talk in more detail about what happened with Melanie. Neither Monica nor I were even there, so we have no idea what really happened or what he saw. Sam, if you, or your people, could get him to talk, it might actually help him. He's grieving about as much as an angel can and I'm worried."

"You're like his mom," Sam said smiling. "I thought the first time I saw you that there was something very motherly about you."

"Well, he and Monica have been under my wing, if you will, for a long time. We've become like a little family here on earth," Tess said smiling.

"He really is an angel, isn't he?" Sam asked.

"Yes baby, he is, but I want you to remember that even angels can start to lose hope on things and sometimes, human angels like you and your friend, Al, have the capacity to be there for them. Not everyone has such a chance to be an angel to an angel, but you both can, at this moment."

"I don't know how well I am at doing that. Tess, I don't know how I'm supposed to continue with this," he admitted.

"I know, baby," she said. "And for what it's worth, I'll ask Monica to not trail you so much. Something tells me that she has made you rather on edge. Now, get back to your assignment, _Andrew_."

Sam chuckled. "Thanks for the talk, Tess."

The angel smiled and nodded. "You're welcome baby."

He got up and started towards the door. "Could you do me a favor?" He asked.

"Sure honey," she said. "I'll pray for you. Now get going."

Sam nodded and returned to his room.


	17. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: Thanks so much to Elizabeth Hensley for the wonderful review and the help against the block I have been having. I am hoping to have chapter 17 up when I get back from my trip, but hopefully this will keep all of you happy till then. I am starting to see this story pick up somewhat, so that's good, and I will scribble down ideas while I'm on vacation and put them in the computer once I get home._

_This scene with Al and Andrew is one that I have been trying to put together for the past few weeks, so hopefully it will flow in the way that you would like. I want to get beyond it and move to the other parts of the story. Elizabeth's ideas and suggestions have truly helped, so my thanks for that!_

_Take care everyone and I'll hopefully get back with something great to add._

_Enjoy!  
_

* * *

**Chapter 16**

The room looked a tiny bit brighter when he returned. Teresa was still lying on the bed, her face drawn from exhaustion, her eyes closed and Al was staring down at her. It was plain to see that he was worried. The young woman looked to be completely malnourished from all the months she had existed on the streets.

Al raised his head as he came in. "So, what happened?"

"Tess knows the truth," Sam said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked down at Teresa.

"All of it?" Al asked, his voice filled with concern. Concern for Sam's fate as well as that of the project. "Sam, don't you dare tell me that you spilled your guts to Tess and gave her every last bit of information about Project Quantum Leap."

"I didn't tell her the ins and outs of the project, but she pretty much knows everything," he said as he took a deep breath. "Al, they really are angels. When Tess told me the truth, she lit up like a Christmas tree. There is no denying it."

"To acknowledge the existence of angels would mean…" Al's voice trailed.

"…That you would have no choice but to acknowledge the existence of God," Sam said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, Tess said that we're here to be human angels to Teresa, but it could be that the story about Melanie Stevenson is the rationale for my leaping into Andrew."

"I think I know the answer to that one," Al said. "There's a girl back at the project named Paula. She is Melanie's cousin. I wouldn't say that she's messed up, but basically it is established that perhaps I am supposed to get her and Andrew together to talk."

"Then that means you have to resolve whatever issues you have with Andrew," Sam said, but noticing his friend's unhappy face, he took a deep breath. "You can't back down now. Everything may depend on it," he said as Teresa slowly opened her eyes.

"Al," she mumbled, but her voice emerged in an exhalation of breath.

"You've got to get her to a doctor, Sam," Al said as the imaging chamber door opened and he stepped into the light.

Instead of verbally acknowledging these words, Sam nodded as Al disappeared. Shifting his attention, he looked down at her, his eyes taking in her pale face. "Teresa, what did you just say?"

The girl shook her head, her eyes closing momentarily. "Nothing," she whispered.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. "I am going to get you to a doctor right now. I figure that Tess won't mind my using the car, but you need help and you're not going to get it sitting around here." He gathered her in his arms and started to carry her out of the room.

**New Mexico, 1999**

Seconds after leaving Sam, Al left the imaging chamber and made his way down the hall towards the waiting room. He knew that here was no time to loose and chances are it would be vital for him to talk to Andrew now as opposed to later.

He opened the waiting room door and stepped into the room, the door sliding closed behind him. As he came inside, he looked at Andrew who was sitting on the bed, a tray with food was next to him.

"So it's true, you really are an angel," he offered as a greeting.

Andrew nodded. Adam had said it during his short visit, he needed to be truthful, but apparently some miracle had happened that made Al believe. Something must have happened, but what specifically was a hard call.

"What happened, Al?" He asked as he put the fork on the tray and waited for Al to tell him what he had managed to uncover.

"Tess confronted Sam," Al said. "Andrew, I know that this seems difficult for you, but you have to tell me everything you know about Teresa, Melanie and even Paula. Tess knows who Sam is, she knows about the project, and she somehow managed to prove to Sam that you are all really angel. I don't know how she did it."

"Tess can be a very persuasive individual," Andrew said, but took a deep breath.

"So I've heard. Just tell me something that can make this less painful for all of us."

"Alright," Andrew said. "The last thing I remembered before coming here was sitting in the backseat of Tess' car. She had just told us about our next assignment but I was just half-listening to her. It was several hours after we had left Albuquerque and were driving in the direction of the state line leading into Arizona. We bypassed canyons, rocks and desert, that's why I couldn't really remember where we were or too many specifics, but the landscape I knew. I had been to Arizona several times, so these images were still fresh in my mind even after I found myself here. I had been lying in the backseat, staring out the opposite window, and thinking about Melanie and what had happened to her. I could hear the sounds of Tess' soulful humming and Monica listening to it as though everything was perfectly right in the world. I suppose for the two of them, it was, the last assignment had ended and we now had the weekend before us. To the two of them, Teresa Bruckner was just another assignment of many. For me it felt as though I was emotionally torn apart and being thrown back into this whirlwind of what I had come to know as my existence."

"All of this because of Melanie?" Al asked.

"Yes, in part anyway. Al, I can't really describe what was happening to me, but I did feel that going into this that Teresa's life was important. Of course, when I found myself here, I felt rather lost and alone, probably the same feelings that I recalled Melanie experiencing. Maybe that was why I found myself here. At the same instant, my memories of who I was and where I had come from suddenly felt as though someone had shot holes into them. I couldn't remember much of anything except my name and that I was an angel."

"I tend to describe that condition as having your memories 'swiss-cheesed'," Al said as he stood up, walked some distance from the bed, and sat down on the floor. He watched as Andrew crawled off the bed and followed suit.

"I was afraid. The first time you came in here, I was sitting on the floor trying to figure out what had happened to me. I was worried about my friends, but I was also scared for myself. I had never experienced anything like this, yet here I was. After we spoke that second time, I realized that the longer I'm here, the more I remember Melanie and the kind of person she was. Then if that wasn't enough, wedged into all of that were these thoughts and ideas that kept leaping into my mind about Teresa. I don't really know why, but it felt as though God had sent me here with the sole purpose of remembering and grieving what happened to Melanie before I could actually move on."

"Maybe you should, just tell me everything about Melanie that you can remember," Al said. "Take your time, Andrew. Sometimes rehashing the traumatic memories can help you better able to handle them. I know, that's what happens every time I remember Vietnam."

Andrew nodded. "Perhaps I should." He took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. "Melanie was a short and petite young girl with blue eyes and blonde hair. She always wore her hair in a ponytail, and she had vitality and kindness that was very catching. At the same time, whenever her family was even mentioned, she stopped talking and retreated into herself. It was like two different people were living in one body. At first, it seemed strange, but then after awhile, I could see why it was that things had happened in this way. Al, she was the kind of person that was more willing to look out for others than she was at looking out for herself. She knew beyond any doubt that pain and regret were very real emotions, because she lived with them each day of her life. Yet, whenever she tried to make her parents see her as much more than just a bookish teenager, they invalidated her, and she ended up drifting further and further away from everyone."

"I know about that kind of person," Al confessed. "We once had a girl in here who had been raped, and she was a mess when she came in. I didn't fully understand what had happened to her until Sam cued me in. I can tell you that I immediately felt badly for having judged her. There was so much that I didn't understand about her, but I could see this girl's devastation and my heart ached for her once I knew. Sam doesn't remember anything about his past leaps, but I could always remember them; right down to every last detail. Sometimes I'd prefer to have the memories taken away, but other times, they actually helped."

"I don't know if I will remember when this is all over, but I can say that Melanie was in the same sort of emotional pain as the person you describe. She wanted this emotional burden to end, but could not find any way out," Andrew said. "I had been assigned as a substitute teacher for her class for many days and while everyone was giving me a hard time for it, she seemed to embody kindness and understanding. She even asked me once what sort of name 'Mr. Halo' was because that was how I had been introduced to her class. I guess no one really thought of a teacher going by a first name in a high school so I had to have one."

"They weren't common, but the kids in Albuquerque weren't only ones who pondered that. After Tess dropped the name, I ran it through Ziggy and got a great big goose egg on it. No one had ever heard of anyone with the name 'Andrew Halo' before. It was as though you didn't even exist," Al said.

"In your sense, I don't," Andrew said. "I know that you didn't believe that I was an angel, and maybe part of the reason I'm here is because I had ceased to believe it myself."

"Maybe Dr. Beeks is better qualified to talk to you than I am," Al said simply.

"No, you are," he said shaking his head. "Al, even if I represent the lost faith, the sadness and the pain, the one person here who can help me make sense of all of this is…"

"…Paula," Al finished.

"No; you," Andrew said. "You help me make sense of this, and I can help Paula. Without you, there is no way for either of us can heal from the tragedy we have both experienced."

"I'll do what I can," Al eventually said, his thoughts, by this time, racing. "Just tell me if there is anything else that you might remember about Melanie that might help us."

"I remember her death," Andrew said.

"Tell me," Al said. "If you talk about it, it will help."

Andrew nodded. "I remembered standing in a dried out alcove and staring at her just before she died. She was holding a gun and was staring down at it, her eyes unmoving and I could detect that her heartbeat was racing. At that moment, I stepped closer to where she was standing and looked at her. She raised her head and asked me what I was doing there. I told her that I had followed her out of concern and that I meant her no harm. I felt the need to be with her in case she needed to talk. She looked at me and asked me what the point to all of this was, and later I realized that she was asking not about my presence there, but about her life. Her voice was laced with coldness and her eyes filled with tears. I said that God loved her regardless of everything that had happened or would happen. I told her I was an angel and that God had sent me to be with her at that moment. She got very angry and laughed, the sounds hollow and filled with indifference. I couldn't understand…I had seen people take their lives more often than I would wish to calculate, but yet, there she stood, the gun pressed against her temple. Somehow she had managed to somehow levy it so that it would be aimed at her head…" He shook his head as the tears fell from his eyes. "…To this day, I don't know how she did it…"

"…But she did," Al finished. "And you couldn't stop her, even though you tried."

Andrew nodded. "I looked to the heavens as the shot rang out and cried out 'Oh God, why? Why her?' I'm not supposed to do that, Al. I'm supposed to just accept it and bring the person Home just like all the others. But, this time I couldn't."

"You were connected to her in that you cared for her," Al said.

Andrew nodded.

"I'm really sorry I got so angry and accused you of murdering her," he said softly. "Perhaps I had forgotten that sometimes, things just happen that are so far out of our control that we can't stop them." He shook his head. "I want to explain to you why I said what I did."

"You don't have to," Andrew said.

"Yes, I do," Al swallowed as he rubbed his hands together and pressed the sides of them to his mouth. "When I watched Paula leave this room yesterday, all I saw was this fragile twenty-something-year-old kid walking out of here. I remembered when she first came to the project and how she was shy and nervous all the time. I had no idea what she had been through or if there was even a possibility that I could reach her. She was so much like Sam, in that she lived for books and knowledge. Yet, it seemed as though she had never pondered if there was some sort a reason for it, I know I didn't. I started to wonder if it is even possible for someone to be affected by suicide like that."

"It can happen," Andrew said softly. "I've seen it many times."

"Yeah, and what I saw was how she would withdraw into her own little world and she never seemed to find a way out. Paula is one of those people, and the books and the reading was her way of coping. It reminded me of the analogy of a mime living inside an invisible box. The point is, I guess I was scared for her because what I saw was this kid who had been to hell and back, and yet I really didn't know specifically why."

"I understand Al," Andrew said softly.

"Could you answer one question for me?"

"I can try," Andrew said.

"I know this may seem odd for me to ask, but I am not seeing any relation between Teresa and Melanie," he began, but paused for a moment before his last question emerged. "Is there one?"

"No, they aren't connected in any physical sense except through Sam and me changing places," Andrew said honestly. "Teresa suffers from chronic headaches, Al. A blow to the head, no matter how minimal could do long term damage, even kill her. In this case, since Sam is not me, he is not bound by the rules I must abide by. That is, he can directly get involved and do something to help save her life. He can interfere, whereas I cannot. I think that's why he's taken my place, the bond that both of you have to her can help save her from that, which could end her life."

"But Teresa cannot even see me, Andrew, there's very little I can do," Al said.

"I know, but if she knows that her angels are back, then that might enable her to find the courage to seek out help. Now that Tess knows who Sam is, then maybe everything will fall into place. All I can tell you is that if Teresa gets hurt by another person, Sam may leap out of me so that I can take her Home."

"You mean; we really have no control over this?"

"Only God is in control, Al, but if he sent Sam to do this, then there is a reason for it."

"Maybe," Al mused.

"Think of it this way, Al. You and Sam both have the chance to be an angel again, and to save Teresa's life. What's keeping you from doing so is that part of you that still doesn't believe me."

"You mean, I have to believe that you're an Angel of death," Al whispered. As Andrew nodded, he swallowed. "Well, to be honest, that scares the hell out of me."

Andrew nodded. "I know, but sadly in this state I cannot prove that I speak the truth. You're going to have to go on faith alone, Al."

"You know, you're a lot nicer than Angela was," Al mused. "The strangest thing is that my gut is telling me to believe you."

"What is your heart telling you?" Andrew asked.

"The very same," Al said. "Of course, my head is still telling me that you're a few sandwiches short of a picnic."

Andrew chuckled. "Well, two out of three aren't bad odds, are they?"

"Better than some of the ones Ziggy dishes out," Al laughed.

"What changed your mind about coming and talking to me?" Andrew asked as soon as their laughter subsided.

"A combination of things. The dreams, and then the fact that I looked in on Teresa earlier today. I was remembering how she called me her 'angel'. It really touched me, and I thought about how she really needed someone to help her through what she's enduring. She's really stuck in a desperate situation, Andrew." He paused before continuing. "Mostly, it was Sam, but now I'm glad I did. You seem to be more humane than the rest of us."

Andrew raised his head. "No great credit to me, I'm afraid. I was able to tell you something that I never spoke to my friends about. In hindsight, I suppose I just wanted to forget about it and move on, but I realized that I couldn't."

"It's not all that easy for anyone who has experienced this sort of trauma to forget. I just hope that you realize that when I accused you of every off-colored thing in the book, that I didn't see a man grieving like I should have." He cast a glance towards the door. "I guess you know that I saw more death and blood when I was in Nam than any living person should actually see. I saw little kids dead in the street and knew that I was experiencing hell on earth. But, what takes your experiences and mine and makes them different is the fact that you knew her. Through that alone, her death hit you so damn hard that you don't know what else to do but ask why? So you did, but you kept it all inside, the anger, the hurt, and the sadness."

The angel nodded as he allowed the tears to stream from beneath his eyes. Without warning, Al inched over to him and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

Andrew swallowed, but lowered his head. "Thank you, Al."

"Hey, what can I say? Maybe we're far more alike than I was willing to admit, it," he said.

The angel nodded. "Perhaps we are."


	18. Chapter 17

_Sorry I haven't really been paying much attention to this story. I got back from vacation and delved into the other story I have been working on. I hope to get this story done, not too quickly but also not too slowly. _

_I hope that you enjoy this, and please leave a review. That tends to add to my motivation. _

* * *

**Chapter 17**

**Arizona 1996**

Sam carried Teresa out of the hotel and was surprised when he saw Monica walking towards him. The angel's brown eyes met his and for a reason that he could not easily explain, the time traveler was quite glad that Monica was now present. Although the angel had just about driven him nuts with her questions, he could clearly understand why she had reacted as she had done.

"Please open the door," Sam said softly. "Quickly, I have to get her to a hospital."

"I know," Monica said and held up the keys. "I'll help you." She rushed over to the driver's side. "Get in the back with her, Andrew, I'll drive."

Sam did as the angel instructed and with Teresa still wrapped in his arms, he managed to climb into the backseat.

As she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, the angel spoke. "I've got to take you to the neighboring town's hospital, it's about thirty miles away. The reason is the people here won't accept her since she hasn't got the proper admittance paperwork."

"That should be OK," Sam said. "Given what I know about the politics of this crummy town, I can probably understand why it is they would turn her away."

"Is what she has serious?" Monica asked. "Just tell me something. Since I already know that you're not Andrew. At least I am not as concerned about whether or not she will die."

Sam looked at her. "I don't know if she will or not. I think I am here to insure that she doesn't," he said truthfully. He paused for several minutes as he felt the breeze blowing through his shoulder-length hair. "Monica, I know that you and Tess are angels, but I'm not one. I have no idea if what I am doing will actually help her. Based on what I know about medicine, taking her to a doctor might help matters a bit. Whether it will help in the long run, I haven't any idea."

"But you are a doctor, aren't you?" She asked.

"Yes, but I haven't the means in which to give her an examination," he said. "I don't know if she is suffering from migraines or it is something else like a stroke."

"But if you're a doctor, then you should know," she said.

"There are some symptoms that could be seen physically, but out here in the middle of nowhere I cannot give a proper prognosis," he said as he stroked Teresa's hair. "I don't even have a stethoscope."

"You really do care for her, don't you?" Monica asked. "That's why you're here, because you care very deeply for her. Do you love her?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "I care for her as a father would care for his child, but at this point, I'm not so sure I could do better than Andrew at this. No matter what I do, she's not going to know or remember me. She thinks I'm Andrew and as him, I have to make sure nothing else happens to her."

"How does she know you?" Monica asked. "I mean; you said that she would remember you."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. "Monica, how much did Tess tell you about me?"

"She told me that you weren't Andrew, the Father told me the rest. Although I don't understand anything about leaping or physics, she was able to clarify things for me and instructed me to not give you such a hard time," she said.

"So you know that I am leaping back and forth in time?" He asked.

"Yes, I know about this adventure you're on even if I don't understand it," Monica said as she stopped at a red light, but briefly turned around. "She also said that your name is Sam. I must admit, you're much nicer than the Sam I know."

"There's an angel named Sam?" He asked.

"Yes, he's a wee bit taller than Andrew, and very stern, but he's kind and loving. He is rather like a wise grandfather to many angels, and he looks out for people in a way that is very endearing," Monica said. "I admire that in him. But, he's also one of the few angels that Tess would cross. I was once in trouble with him, and I learned a lesson about truth that I would never forget."

Sam looked down at Teresa. "Truth," he whispered ironically. "I can't tell her who I am, or that Al is still around. It would go against the reason I am doing this."

"Sam, she needs to know the truth," Monica said. "If she is reminded of who you are, she will find the courage in herself to go home. If she knows that someone is standing behind her and helping her through these difficult times, then she will be able to overcome the shame."

"Isn't that what God's supposed to do?" Sam asked as the light changed.

"Yes, it is, but consider this, perhaps God has sent you here to help Teresa find the courage to embrace that idea. The belief in angels is a very profound and powerful thing. When I meet people in my work, I don't always have the bells and whistles in which to tell them the truth. I only use that truth when God gives me the tools in which to do so."

"That's beautiful," he said as Teresa moaned and slowly opened her eyes.

Wearily, she looked up at him. "What happened?"

"You blacked out, Teresa, but we're here with you now. Monica and I are taking you to the hospital so you can see a doctor. That way we can find out why you're having these blackouts and then can help you so that you can go back home."

"Home?" She whispered.

"Back to your mother, she'll take good care of you and see to it that you don't get hurt again," he said.

"But I have to help Bear," she whispered.

"Why?" Monica asked as she pulled onto the interstate.

"I can't explain, but he needs help," she whispered. "H-he's very sick."

"So are you," Sam said softly. "We'll do what we can for Bear, but you have to see a doctor first. In your present state, you would not be able to do anything. Teresa, please, let us help you and then we will do whatever we can to help Bear. Alright?"

She nodded weakly as she leaned up against him. "Thank you," she whispered as she felt his arms wrapping around her.

"You don't have to thank me, Munchkin," he said a loving smile.

Upon hearing this, she raised her head and looked at him. "What did you say?"

"I said that you didn't have any reason to thank me," he said.

"No, you called me, 'Munchkin'," she said. "No one's called me that since I was little."

"Tell us what it was like when you were a wee girl," Monica said from the driver's seat. She continued to drive in the direction of the hospital.

"I don't remember very much, but when I was little, there was a man who was tall and handsome. He would sing songs to me, and he wore strange clothes," she said and closed her eyes drowsily. "He would smoke cigars and called himself Al."

"Was this your father?" Monica asked.

"No, he was really an angel, at least that was what he called himself and I believed him. I called his shirt yucky and he called it 'cutting edge'." She laughed despite the tears that were now streaming down over her cheeks.

"You still remember him?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.

Teresa nodded. "When I got into high school, I tried to forget about him, but I couldn't. I wanted to stop thinking about him because it hurt. He had promised that he would come back to me, but instead of seeing him, the man I saw was my father." She buried her face against Sam's chest. "I wish Al had come…at least he would not have hurt me."

"Your father hurt you by making promises to you and not fulfilling them, didn't he?" Sam asked.

She nodded, the tears streaming down her face. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "My mother was totally upset about it, and she got angry with me for believing in him. But, I wanted to believe that I was his little girl, and that I was special."

"You are special, Teresa, you mustn't believe otherwise. You certainly must not put your faith in a man who would go to such extremes to bring harm to you," Sam said earnestly.

Teresa closed her eyes once again. "My mother was so angry when I made the decision to leave home and go to college so far away. I wanted to be independent and find my own way. This upset her and she ended up getting angry with me. When I moved out here, I wanted to use that chance to get to know my father, but I felt guilty for having tried and failed. I realized just what deadbeat he was when he got married again and tossed me out like yesterday's newspaper. His parting letter was like getting a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. It was at that moment when I realized that maybe that was why my mother didn't want me to know him."

"Teresa, every child has a right to know their parents," Sam said.

"I know, but after I got kicked out of school, I figured that if he really cared about me, he'd come find me instead of my having make all the effort," she shrugged her shoulders. "I wish that Al had come back like he promised and not my father. Al would have been a far cry better than my father was."

Sam raised his head to catch Monica's gaze in the rearview mirror. He could tell that she was trying to persuade him to tell the girl everything and now it seemed as though that was what must happen. He swallowed as she continued to speak, her body now wearily resting in his arms.

"I didn't know what to believe," she admitted. "My brother Kevin said that our father was a looser and that he left our mother for some other woman. I didn't know what to believe, but I wanted to believe that he was sincere."

"And that's how he did it, by helping with your schooling?" Sam asked.

"He promised that he would help me fulfill my dream of studying paleontology and becoming a scientist," she said.

"Seems a nice thing for him to try to do," Sam said. "Yet, I think he owed you far more than that, though."

"That's what Bear always said," Teresa said. "You know, it would have been really great had he not stopped payment on my studies just after Christmas. For the second time in my life, my father simply abandoned us, but this time I could remember it and how much it hurt. The first time it happened, I was too young to remember and for me fun was drawing pictures and pretending that angels existed."

"Bear said that you've been giving so much of yourself to help others, and it shows, " Sam said. "Now, you are sick and need someone who is going to help you."

"Who would want to help me?" She asked. "Not even my father cared enough to give me the time of day."

"Perhaps it is not him who could help, but maybe an angel," Sam said softly. "An angel who entered your life when you were just five-years-old and wanted nothing more than to come back and remind you that you are not alone."

Teresa took a deep breath, her eyes filled with lost hope. "I don't believe in angels anymore, Andrew."

"My name is not Andrew," he said honestly. "It's Sam."

"Sam?" She whispered.

"Think back, Teresa, think way back to the time when you were just a little girl and filled with hopes and innocent dreams. You had this doll and her head kept popping off, you asked an angel to help you put her back together. Do you remember?"

"The doll," she whispered more to herself than to him. "I remember, there was a doll, and someone carried me through the house when I was dripping wet."

"How did you feel?" Sam asked.

"Loved and safe," she whispered. "Al later sang me to sleep and showed me pictures."

"Yes," Sam nodded as he continued to stroke her hair. "I was there to help your brother win the swim meet. Do you remember me now."

Instead of responding to his question, Teresa sank into his arms and he raised his head. "Monica, she's passed out again. How much further is it to the hospital?"

"About ten more minutes," Monica said. "I'm trying to hurry, Sam."


	19. Chapter 18

_Thanks to all my reviewers. I hope that you are enjoying this story. I decided to release you from that cliffhanger today, and hopefully the update is good. I have to thank Elizabeth Hensley for the encouragement as well as giving Teresa's condition a name. I am not affiliated with the medical field, so it was hard for me to actually write something conclusive about this without sounding like a moron, so thanks go out for that review._

_Hopefully you will enjoy this latest installment. Now that I know where to go with this, I will do my best to finish this story, which I promise all of you that I will do. The reviews have been great. Thanks to Onlyaman and Samwiseatheart, but also to 'Anonymous' for taking the time to read and review. I'm glad you like the story, and thanks for taking the time out to review it. _

_With that said, enjoy the latest installment._

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Within the promised time, Monica pulled into the emergency lot to the hospital and cut the motor. "Here we are," she said. It was abundantly clear that her voice was etched with the angel's own brand of worry. "Is she going to be OK now, Andrew?"

Sam raised his head, all the while aware that Monica was either playing along with what he was doing, or was overwhelmed with worry. It seemed very clear that the pretty young caseworker had no idea what to do next. He gently crawled out from beneath Teresa's body and then carefully leaned over and picked her up.

As he backed out of the car with her in his arms, he found himself looking towards the large glass building in the hopes that the answers would be found inside.

"Let's get her inside," Monica said gently. "They should be able to help her, shouldn't they."

"I hope so," he said.

The doors swung open and they walked into what looked to be a large waiting room.

The nurse on duty raised her head as they reached the admittance desk. "Can I help you?" She asked, her critical gaze on the shabbily dressed girl in Sam's arms. A judgmental line crossed her face as she looked at Monica. "What's going on?"

"The wee girl is hurt," Monica said. "She's been suffering from dizzy spells and has experienced blackouts."

Sam looked at the nurse with disbelief written all over his face. "Why all the questions, Teresa needs immediate help, not a game of twenty questions."

"Is she insured?" The woman asked.

"I don't believe this," Sam groaned, but turned to face Monica. "You brought us all this way for the same nonsense that we would have contended with back in Harrisburg. This sort of prejudice and hate against someone who is different, it's positively sickening."

Monica nodded. "I'm sorry, Andrew. But this is where Tess told me to bring her, so that's what I did. We both know better than to cross Tess. She will get help here."

The nurse watched all of this, her face contorting into a scowl. "Look, I have a job to do, and don't have time for these theatrics."

"Would you be saying the same thing if it was your daughter resting in this man's arms?" A voice emerged and Sam raised his head to see a man with graying hair and a lab coat standing next to the desk.

"Adam?" Monica whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," the answer emerged and he looked at the nurse. "Nurse Clayton, please have her admitted for tests, her name is Teresa Bruckner and her home address is in Scottsdale. We'll get the rest of the information to you after she wakes up." He started to walk away, but stopped and turned around. "Oh, and don't forget to sign up for that aggression therapy class that we talked about."

"Yes Doctor," she said defeated as Adam led the two of them away.

"I love this job," the Angel of Death said with a smirk. "Monica, you're looking lovely."

"Wait a minute, you know her?" Sam asked.

"One thing at a time," Adam said smiling. "We have to get this little lady to a room and make sure that she is OK, and then I will recommend Jason to take her case."

"Jason?" Monica asked. "I thought you were working in 1999 in Albuquerque, at least that's what Tess indicated. She said that you've seen Andrew."

"I was and I did, but you might say that I've been bouncing back and forth between here and there because I'm needed in both places. I think I'm finally starting to catch on with all this leaping stuff, too." As these words emerged, he winked and nudged Sam. Rather than wait for an answer, he grabbed the handle to a gurney and started to push it all the while motioning to Sam to lay Teresa on it.

Once he did, they silently approached the elevator, rode up and came out on the third floor. After several minutes, they arrived at an empty room. Adam carefully wheeled the young woman in with Monica and Sam following.

Inside the room, Adam looked at Monica. "Why don't you change her?" He said and pointed. "There's a gown behind the door." With that, he turned to face Sam. "I think we need to talk. Let's leave the ladies alone."

Sam nodded and the two of them stepped outside and he found himself following Adam down the hall to a small conference room. "I suppose you're wondering what's going on?" The angel said once he reached the door and opened it.

"Somehow I'm getting used to it," Sam said as they entered the room. "This has been more or less some of the most confusing days I've ever had."

Adam closed the door and turned to face him. "Sam, I am an angel sent by God to help both you and Al accept what it is the Father has asked you to do."

"I know what I have to do," Sam managed. "I sort of got the gist of it when Tess confronted me earlier today, but I'm confused. How can you see Al?"

"The same as I see you and not Andrew standing before me. Monica is playing along, but I cannot. I see a man with a small amount of gray hair amidst straight brown hair, right about here." He leaned over and touched the hair that adorned Sam's head. "You see; I was sent to help you and Al, but the only way I could was to be in 1999 at Project Quantum Leap. I will be appearing there one more time to help a young lady find the courage to speak with Andrew. Once the two of them speak, then you will leap home, and Andrew will return to his work." As he spoke, he began to glow, the light of God's love filling the room. "Trust me, Sam Beckett, you will go home."

"Why did I leap into an angel?" Sam asked.

"To recognize your own angelic quality. To Teresa Bruckner, you are an angel Sam, and so is Al. You don't have to be bathed in light to recognize it, it is there, it lies within each and every person. The impact that you have had on her has been monumental, and it is the reminder of that impact that will save her life and perhaps Bear's as well."

"But her condition," Sam whispered. "She's sick."

Adam nodded. "Physically yes, but all illness is a manifestation of something much greater going on in the heart and mind of that young lady. What she is experiencing is called Transient ischemic attacks…"

"…Mini strokes," Sam interrupted. "All she needs is to have a stent inserted and then she can go home."

Adam nodded. "You see, the solution is only a part of the journey. You, Teresa, Al, Andrew and Paula, although on separate journeys have all been touched by your switching places with Andrew. You see this as a problem, but Sam, your knowledge is the key that saved Teresa's life. Andrew's understanding of the impact of death and suicide may hold the key to saving Paula. At least it will once the two of them confide in one another the common ground that they have. That common link between them is Melanie Stevenson."

"You're an Angel of Death too?" Sam whispered.

"Correct," he said with a nod. "The Father knew that Andrew's knowledge could not have helped Teresa and your knowledge could not have helped Paula, but in switching places, He has saved two lives instead of Andrew and I having to do damage control, if you will."

Sam smirked. "Damage control, I've never heard it put that way before."

"Monica would say I'm impossible for saying such things, but in essence, that is what happened," he said. "Now, I have to take one more trip back to your time, and have a little chat with Paula. I will have Jason come to Teresa's room and you can tell him what is the matter, or give him the symptoms that you have about her. He'll know what to do."

"Is Jason an angel too?" Sam asked.

"No, he's Teresa's future husband, but don't tell her that, she has to live her life as was intended," Adam said with a smile. "Sometimes, knowing too much of what the future will bring as much chaos into a person's as a medical condition."

With that, Adam disappeared and Sam realized that for the first time since arriving in 1996, he finally knew exactly what it was he had to do. The only thing that remained was to tell Al, wherever he was, about the news he had received.

**New Mexico, 1999**

It was late in the afternoon when Paula returned to the waiting room.

She stood staring up at the door all the while uncertain about what it is she had to do. Reaching out, she touched the handle, but soon lowered her hand once again. She was simply not certain as to what she was even doing. All that she could remember was that Al had told her, rather sternly that she had to leave the room.

She remembered seeing Andrew's somewhat worried expression, but instead of speaking of this, she had left as Al had requested.

For whatever reason, she had no idea what to do or why it was she was even there in the first place. She was no longer interested in trying to study the subject in the waiting room, but somehow felt as though there existed some unforeseen force that was urging her forward.

"You want to go inside, don't you?" A voice suddenly emerged and she turned to see a man dressed in an elegant beige suit. His piercing blue eyes seemed to be staring straight through her, but no further words emerged from him.

She raised her head, her eyes meeting his. Self-consciously, she licked her lips. This always seemed to happen when she was nervous, and this man's gaze seemed to read her every emotion like a dime store novel.

"What makes you so sure?" She asked, all the while reading the badge that adorned his lapel. It read the name 'Adam', but it was strange to see this since she had never seen him before. She was also uncertain as to whether or not he was even a part of Project Quantum Leap.

"You don't have to cop an attitude, Paula, it's obvious that you wouldn't be standing here in front of the waiting room door unless you really wanted to go inside," he said.

"How do you know my name?" She asked nervously. "We've never even been introduced."

"Sometimes, introductions aren't necessary. But, if you want to go in there, what's stopping you?" He asked.

"A stern looking man who smokes a cigar," she said shyly. "I will admit that I would like to go in there and talk to Andrew one last time. I have so many questions, and no answers. Why can't I stop thinking about all of this?"

"That is an answer that I am afraid I cannot give you," Adam said. He clasped his hands together and rubbed them before continuing. "Every thing that happens to you happens for a reason, and right now you have a choice. You could either go in there and talk to Andrew and find closure, or you can stand out here second guessing yourself." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "It is very clear that this story could have a quick and happy ending, but only if you choose it."

"But what about Al?" She asked.

"What about me?" The Project Observer came down the hall and saw the young woman standing in the hallway. Instead of seeing Adam, he only saw her standing and speaking as though carrying on a dialogue by herself.

Paula raised her head and looked at Al, his lips curled up in a coy smile. When she turned back around, she noticed that Adam was gone. "W-where did he go?"

"Where did who go?" Al asked. "Paula, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, "at least I think I am. Didn't you see that man that was standing here just now?"

Al took a deep breath but shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't see anyone, but if there is someone here who is telling you to go talk to Andrew, then maybe you should."

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

"I know, but Paula, you have to do this, you can't run and hide anymore," he said. "Just go in there and talk to him, maybe he can give you something that years of study and a hundred books can't."

"What?" She asked.

"Closure," Al said simply.

Paula took a deep breath and turned back towards the door. "Al, who is he?"

"Go find out, you have nothing more to be afraid of," Al said. "I was wrong about him." He paused. "Now go."


	20. Chapter 19

_There is truly something therapeutic in working on this particular story. I am so glad I wrote it, and I am really happy that you good people are enjoying it. I had intended on not posting anything until next week, but decided against that option to give you this new chapter. One of the things I have learned is that when tragedy strikes, there is nothing more rewarding and special than being able to pick up the pieces and move on. So, with that in mind, I give you chapter 19._

_All the reviews are appreciated, and I am deeply honored that so many of you are enjoying this little journey. I have already another leap for Sam in mind, but I'm not telling as the story hasn't been started yet and it is going to be a crossover.  
_

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 19**

As Paula came into the room, she could see that Andrew was standing in the far corner, his body turned away from her as he stared into the whiteness of the walls.

"H-hello," she whispered thus causing him to abruptly turned around.

"Hello, Paula," Andrew responded. "I wasn't sure I was going to see you again."

"I didn't know I was going to be able to come back," she said honestly.

"Yes," he said as he approached, but watched as she shrank back. "It's alright, I won't hurt you. I can understand that you were confused after Al stormed in here. Perhaps this was all a bit too much for you. How are you doing?"

"I guess I'm alright," she said softly. She looked at him, her eyes filled with sadness, but he could tell that she was trying to gun up the courage to say something else to him that wasn't generic in scope.

"Is something else the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing except that I overheard Al telling someone that you had said that you were an angel," she said, all the while shaking her head.

"What do you believe about these words?" He asked.

"I don't know," she lowered her head and stared at her lap. "I want to believe in angels, I really do, but I'm not sure I can anymore. Andrew, if you're really an angel, then maybe you can tell me why my cousin had to die."

Instead of immediately speaking, he walked slowly over to her and rested his hand on her shoulder. When she turned around, what she saw was a man dressed in a white outfit, but he no longer looked like Sam Beckett, in fact, he now had shoulder length blondish colored hair, and green eyes. She backed up, fear gripping her.

"Who are you?" She managed.

"My name is Andrew, but you already know that," he began. "I believe I am here to tell you some things about God."

"God is something that can't be scientifically proven," she said. "Besides, I don't know if I really want to hear about Him."

"I understand, and no it is not always easy to prove the existence of something without having to base that assumption on scientific proof," he said. "Think about it. To believe in God does not mean that you must cease to believe in science. Science is a wonderful thing, it has brought humanity a great distance. If you believe in the feasibility of God's existence, then you are not contradicting what you have learned in textbooks. What you are doing is affixing a different name for some of the same concepts. That is, you may call a scientific equation science, whereas I may call it 'God in action'. Not even Albert Einstein was exempt from being involved in belief philosophy, and he was one of the greatest minds of the twentieth century."

"Albert Einstein believed in God?" She asked.

"Based on what I have read or could understand about him, I perceived that he did believe in something," Andrew said. "Now, I can't really toss out the possibility that he had faith in God, but I can say that he seemed to believe outside of religious doctrines about God. Think about it, maybe some of your modern scientists do not believe in God, they cannot perceive that God exists, but that doesn't mean that those of us who do believe in God should have to dismiss the idea because of the theories of science."

"You really believe all of that?" She asked. "It sounds like you're trying to buffalo me into some sort of doctrine."

He shook his head. "No, but I can say that believing doesn't really begin to scratch the surface of what I think."

"I once read somewhere that the laws of physics and some scientific theories contain aspects of faith," she said. "I've got a doctorate in physics, and more questions than you can imagine."

"Then perhaps I can help you find some answers," he said.

"Are you a theologian?" She asked.

"No, Paula, I am not someone who studies religion, I am an angel sent by God to be here with you at this precise moment," he said. "You're part of the reason Sam Beckett leaped into my life. You see, I'm actually from 1996."

She raised her head and looked at him. His voice sounded so confident, so aware. She could not tell if what he was telling her was the truth, but somewhere in his words, he seemed to emanate an outer worldly confidence. "You're an angel?"

"Yes, are you afraid of me?" He asked.

"I think you're crazy, there are no angels," She said, but nodded numbly, thus indicating that she was afraid of him.

"I won't hurt you, Paula," he extended his hand towards her. "I have some things that I have to tell you. It is the same as what I have struggled with since I came here. Would you come sit with me?"

She nodded and watched as he sat down on the floor. She did the same, her body feeling weak and tired, but also very tense. As she looked over at him, she could feel the tears catching in her eyes. "If you are an angel, then what kind of angel are you?" She eventually found the words and spoke.

"I'm an Angel of Death," Andrew said.

"Death," she whispered, the word emerging in an exhalation of breath. She swallowed, but looked at Andrew, her next words emerging. "Was there an angel with my cousin?"

"Yes there was," he said. "Every person who dies has an angel with him or her. I was the angel who was sent to bring Melanie Home to God."

"So you're saying that she had an angel with her and you were it?" Paula asked.

"Yes, and although you may not believe it, I speak nothing but the truth," Andrew said softly. "Tell me about what happened three years ago."

She looked at him, somewhat surprised. "You know that my cousin Melanie committed suicide three years ago?" She asked softly.

"Yes," he nodded. "Tell me where you were when it happened."

"Well, when I found out about it, I got scared. I figured that God would probably hate her and send her to hell for having done it. I think that was when I stopped believing in God. I would have preferred her to have gone anywhere but to this horrible place that people constantly talk about having existed." She shuddered despite herself.

"This is a misconception, sweetheart, God wouldn't do that. He wouldn't send Melanie to that other place, regardless of what she chooses to do," he said. "God loves all His children unconditionally, he would never wish for the unspeakable to happen to any of them." As he spoke, he inched closer to her, his hand reaching out and touching her shoulder. This time she did not cringe or back away, instead, she merely accepted the weight of comfort that he was offering.

She lowered her head. "I had a roommate tell me all of that right after Melanie died. I almost hit her I was so upset. At any rate, right after that instance, I ended up moving out and never going back. It was horrible. I was constantly being told that my cousin was a bad person for having felt depressed and unhappy with her life. I was tired of being told that God would hate her for what she had done. I couldn't live with it."

"Do you know why she was unhappy?" Andrew asked.

"S-she said that her parents expected too much from her," Paula said. "Her father would beat her to a pulp if she came home with anything less than 'A' on her report card. She said her mother would ignore her if she did anything against her wishes. I remember when she would write me letters and tell me that she wanted to take a class in sculpting and her parents wouldn't let her. They both claimed that it was not prudent for her to waste her time with things like art. She finally snuck off to take part in the class. We had planned that she was coming to the school to visit me and to look into some academic program or other. Of course, she was doing nothing like that. Instead, she was studying sculpting and having a great time. She was so happy and seemed to love every aspect of it until her parents found out about it and made her quit. She called me that day and told me that her father had hit the roof and she was no longer allowed to come visit me."

"Her parents were really strict, weren't they?" Andrew asked.

"My mother said that her sister wasn't always like that, but after she got married, everything had changed," Paula said. "I remember one night, it was about three days before Melanie killed herself. My mother had gone to see Melanie's parents and told them that something was wrong. She had seen what was going on, and told me about it. She said that all I could do was just be a friend to her and not turn my back on her. She then told me that I could pray for her, ask God to watch over her."

As these words Andrew could feel the tears brimming from beneath his eyes and he removed his hand from her shoulder to wipe his eyes. What he did not expect was for Paula to hand him a handkerchief. Once he had accepted the piece of cloth, he wiped his eyes, as she continued to speak.

"The day she died, I had gotten a letter from her," Paula said. "She told me that her father had been hitting her and that she saw no way out. She figured that everything would be better without her. But it wasn't. After she died, her parents blamed me for her death, saying that it was me who put all these sick ideas into her head. They had this idea that she would one day go to Harvard or Yale and follow in their footsteps, but I knew that that wasn't what she wanted. She confided in me that she had aspired to be an artist and make something that would last. I wanted that for her too, because I knew that a person's dreams were what kept them going." She sniffed.

"How did you end up here, Paula?" Andrew asked.

As a tear inched its way down her face, she looked at him and spoke. "I wanted to study art after she died, and thought that it was a fitting way to honor her memory, but then the night before I left to head back to school, her parents came by and confronted my parents about Melanie. I overheard them talking and they said that I was the brat that forced their kid to the edge and that it was all my fault that Melanie was dead."

"And you decided to change your course of study to this?" Andrew asked.

She nodded. "In a way, I was already on the Master's program in physics. After I came here, I started to push myself to study the same things that Dr. Beckett had studied. I wanted to prove to myself that I was smart enough. Deep down inside, I knew that I was trying to do what my aunt and uncle had intended for Melanie."

Andrew inched even closer to her and this time wrapped her in his arms. "Oh Paula, you don't have to do this anymore. You may be a very intelligent young woman, but you mustn't give up your life for a memory of someone who is no longer here. Nor must you sacrifice all that you are for an aunt and uncle who brought great harm to their own daughter."

As she felt his hold on her, she buried her face against his shoulder. "I don't know if I can get out of it."

"You can," he said, his hold on her tightening.

This caused her to raise her head. "I'm sorry, Andrew, I really didn't mean to unload my problems about God onto you."

"You're not," he offered sincerely. "Paula, I didn't want to pry into your life, and perhaps it is not any of my business, but being one of the people left behind after a suicide is a rather difficult issue for anyone to contend with. Much less for a young woman who is striving to find her place in the world."

"I miss her," she whispered.

"I know, and I am certain that she misses you as well," he said, but as these words emerged, something miraculous happened and the room suddenly filled with light.

Upon feeling the warmth of it against her, the embrace loosened and Paula backed several steps away from him, her eyes widening when she saw that it centered on Andrew. "It's true, you really are an angel."

"Yes, it's true," Andrew said. "I was with Melanie the day that she died, Paula. I was, like you, very sad about her death. The Father had sent me to bring her Home, and while I tried to talk to her, she did not want to listen."

"The Father?" Paula whispered.

"God," Andrew said gently. "He told me that there was a great many things that I did not know about Melanie, things that she had kept to herself during the time that I had known her. Did she ever tell you about a substitute teacher who called himself 'Mr. Halo'?"

Paula nodded. "Yes, she said that he was very nice and tried to help her, but she felt that she was beyond anyone's help."

"That's what she said to me as well," Andrew nodded. "I was that teacher. I had been sent to help Melanie figure out her life, but it was not easy because I believed that I had perhaps come at the wrong time. She was already dealing with so much hurt and pain that there was very little that I could do except take her hand and guide her Home."

Paula looked down at her lap. "She liked you. She would have followed you to the ends of the earth."

"I don't understand," Andrew said.

"She thought you were cute, and really nice. She imagined what it would have been like to date you," she smiled despite herself. "I asked her if she knew how old you were, and she said about 35. The funny thing is, even though she talked about you, she still wasn't allowed to go on dates. In her notes and journals, she wrote that she had a crush on you."

Andrew flushed slightly, but looked at her, his eyes intent. "Can I ask you a question?" He asked.

"Sure."

"How have you managed to handle all of this?" He asked.

"I guess just through books and studying," she said honestly. "I was in therapy after it happened, but it didn't help. The only thing that really helped me was when I moved from Albuquerque to here and delved myself into work so that I could try and forget."

"But you never did forget," he whispered. "I wish I could tell you exactly what happened the day Melanie went Home, but I cannot. I can only tell you that I understand how you feel."

"How can you, you're an angel?" She whispered.

Andrew took a deep breath. "I may understand what it means to have faith, and try to help people say good-bye, but I do have feelings about this. I will also be honest when I tell you that it tore me apart to have to take Melanie Home." He closed his eyes. "I cannot interfere in free will, and I wanted to so desperately. I wanted to take that gun out of her hand and convince her that suicide was not the answer, but I couldn't, and I felt guilt for it."

Paula looked at the angel, his face looked drawn and tired. Although he was glowing, there was something overtly missing in his stance. What happened next took them both by surprise. She filled the gap that separated them and wrapped her arms around him, her face she buried against his chest.

Andrew's eyes widened, but instead of saying another word, he returned the embrace and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry that I failed, Paula," he whispered, his words emerging somewhat choked.

Paula raised her head so that she could look into his eyes. "You didn't, she was lucky to have you with her."

Andrew brushed his hand through her hair, but said nothing, the acknowledgement from the young woman seemed to help the downtrodden angel immensely.

"Andrew?" She spoke his name after several minutes, but still remained in the comfort of his embrace.

"Yes?"

"Do angels think less of us when we cry?" She asked weakly.

"No, of course not," he said as the light dissipated and the room was now as it had been before. "Angels sometimes cry as well."

The young woman raised her head and looked at him, her body now weakly leaning against his for support. She lowered her head once again and allowed the tears to fall.

What she did not immediately notice was that Andrew was crying as well.

Soon after the two of them had stopped, Andrew was still in the waiting room.

He could not help but ponder that while he liked being allowed the chance to grieve with Paula, he could still not comprehend why it was Sam Beckett had not yet leaped…


	21. Chapter 20

_This story is starting to wind down, but no worries folks, I have another leap in mind for Sam. I won't be letting go of him yet, but you won't know this till the very end of this story._

_Please review._

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**Chapter 20**

**Arizona 1996**

When Teresa opened her eyes, she immediately recognized that Sam and Monica were in her hospital room. Rubbing her face, she turned so that she could see Sam seated next to the bed. After several minutes had passed the imaging chamber door opened and Al appeared in the room.

"How is she?" The hologram asked.

Instead of responding, Sam rested a gentle hand on her forehead. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not dizzy anymore, but where am I?" She asked softly.

"You're in a hospital," Monica said. "The doctor did a procedure and now you're on the road to recovery."

Teresa looked at Sam. "You helped me," she said, her voice emerging as a soft whisper. "It's strange, but I had a dream about an angel."

Upon hearing these words, Sam raised his head and looked at Al. For his part, the hologram shook his head emphatically. "You can't tell her, Sam."

Ignoring him, Sam's attention shifted and he looked down at her. "What did the angel look like?"

"It was a man," Teresa began. "He was tall with short brown hair. He looked funny in my mother's clothes, though." She laughed nervously. "His friend was dressed in yucky green shirt and smoking a cigar." She closed her eyes. "I miss him."

Monica watched this take place, but she reached down and touched Teresa's shoulder. "Your angels never truly leave you, wee girl, they have always been here, and they came back to help you. Just take Andrew's hand and look at him."

Teresa did as the angel said, her hand reaching for the hand of the man seated next to her bed. Instead of looking, she closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes," Monica said. "It's time for you to see the truth for all that it is. Every so often, God sends an angel to help a person through the difficult times in their lives. And every so often, the Father sends a time traveler named Sam Beckett."

"Sam," Al said, his voice starting to reach a slight panic. "Did you tell her about the Project?"

"No," Sam responded, "she's an angel, just like the real Andrew, Tess, and Adam."

"Angels?" Teresa whispered.

"I'm not an angel, Teresa, Monica is telling the truth, my name is Sam, and we met a long, long time ago, back when you were a little girl in Scottsdale. We called ourselves angels because we didn't know if there was a way of explaining who we were and why your mother was not with you."

"Sam?" She whispered. "You came back."

"Yes," he nodded.

"Is Al here with you?" She asked.

"Yes, he arrived right after you woke up," he said. "He's standing at the end of your bed shaking his head and looking at me like he's ready to plant me six feet under."

"Al?" Teresa sat up in bed and started looking for the hologram.

Monica closed her eyes but watched as the young woman tried to reestablish a link with the hologram. "Father?" She spoke to the stillness. "Can't she see him?"

"It's impossible," Al said all the while looking at the angel. He was not sure if she could see him, but it was clear to him that this had not been the simplest of Sam's leaps. "I'm just a hologram that is linked with Sam's thought-waves."

"Then stand next to Sam," Monica said simply. "Go ahead, the Father is in charge here, not us. He's going to answer this wee girl's prayer."

"Prayer?" Sam asked.

"Yes, it is Teresa's fondest, but her most precious wish is to see Al again," Monica said. "Is that not so?"

"Yes, but it's impossible, I can't see him," the young woman said as she turned and looked at Monica. "I haven't seen him since I was five."

"Look at Sam," Monica said. "Don't look anywhere else."

As these words emerged, Teresa did as the angel said and looked at Sam, her eyes locked with those of the time traveler. After what seemed like an eternity, the room was suddenly filled with light as Monica began to glow. The light of God's love washed over the entire room, and Teresa suddenly spoke.

"Sam? Al? You're really here, I can see you," She whispered, but reached out towards them. "I missed you both so much."

"We missed you too, Munchkin," Al said. "You're going to be OK now, but when you get a chance in say two or three years, come see us in New Mexico."

"New Mexico?" She whispered.

"You're going to find out everything," Sam said as he touched her face. "But for now, you have to get better so you can help Bear."

"How is he?" She asked.

"Right now, he's alright," Monica said. "We're going to help him before Sam leaps out of here."

"You mean we get to stick around?" Al asked hopefully.

"Yes," Monica said. "There is still something that needs to be done here. Adam will let Andrew know, but when you are able to leave the hospital, then we will drive back to Harrisburg and then you can help him as you wanted to."

Teresa looked at Monica. "You helped me see my friends."

"No, it wasn't me, Teresa, it was God. He knew that this was your prayer. God loves you, wee girl, He is always going to be there for you even when your earthly father is not," Monica said as the door opened and Tess came into the room.

"Babies, things are going to start happening," the wise angel said as she came over to the bed and looked down at Teresa. "Adam said that you could leave any time now, and I think it is high time for all of us to get back to Harrisburg."

"What's happening Tess?" Sam asked.

"Victoria Livingston's moment of truth is about to come. We have to get back there before it does," she said. "You all will have a role to play in this. Even you, Al, so no disappearing acts."

The admiral nodded. "I take it Andrew and Paula will be fine then?"

"They are finally talking about the impact that Melanie had on both of their lives. That is all the Father wanted them to do. When Andrew returns, then he should be back to his old self. Right now, at this time, we have two lives that are at stake," Tess said. "Just because Andrew is not presently here does not mean that things will be easy for any of us. For now Sam is here, but he could leap out at any time, and that would mean that the Angel of Death would be on call."

Al looked at Sam. "If that's the case, than I hope you don't leap out before we can help them, although I don't think that hotel barracuda is really worth the effort."

"But Bear is," Teresa said as she crawled out of bed. "I'm not giving up on him."

"No one expects you to," Monica said.

Tess nodded. "Now, I have to get back there, you will all have to go back the way you came." She turned and looked at Monica. "Do not dent, or otherwise mess up my car, Miss Wings." She looked at Al. "Come on Mister Fancy Pants, we got work to do."

Al looked around, half expecting the supervisor to be talking to someone else, but when her brown eyed gaze did not falter, he swallowed as Tess spoke again. "Yes, I was referring to you."

Sam chuckled and looked at Monica one the two of them had disappeared. "Is she always like that."

The angel nodded. "Usually, but I know an angel who is much worse than Tess when it comes to attitude. You've met her, too, her name is Angela."

Teresa said nothing, instead she accepted a small pile of clothing from Sam, retreated to the bathroom and changed. When she came back out, she took a deep breath. "OK, I guess I'm ready, but this is very strange."

Sam smiled but put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "You've come this far, kiddo, the rest should be easy."

"I don't know, Bear is an awfully tough customer," she said. "He's talked about Ms. Livingston, and not in a very positive light."

"We should get going," Monica said as she pulled out the keys to the car and they left the room.

Outside in the hallway, Adam met them with Teresa's release papers.

"I think the treatment has worked, but if for any reason you have any problems, then you should come back here and let me take another look."

"I think it worked," Sam said. "It's a rather simple procedure and is usually done on an outpatient basis. If Teresa experiences any relapses, we'll bring her back immediately."

The young woman nodded as she looked at the angel. "Thank you for helping me."

"My pleasure, young lady. If you need anything, you have my card, just call, but I am pretty confident that you will be alright," Adam said. "You both take good care of her. She's a very special person."

Sam nodded. "You can count on that," he said as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a half embrace.


	22. Chapter 21

_Here's hoping that you enjoy this latest update. I have finished the story, but have some editing to do with it._

_Once it is done, I will probably start working on a new one._

_Here's hoping that you enjoy it. There will probably be one more chapter and then an epilogue to wrap this one up._

_Thanks to all of you for coming along for the ride. A special thanks to my reviewers, who without you, I'd probably have stopped writing this a long time ago. So, Samwiseatheart and Onlyaman, this chapter is for you with my thanks._

_Please review._

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**Chapter 21**

Coming outside twenty minutes later, Teresa could feel the warmth of the sun shining down on her. If truth were known, the young woman felt physically better than she had felt in months. Her dizzy spells seemed to be a thing of the past, although she was worried about whether this was actually going to be a permanent condition.

Monica climbed into the front of the car, while she climbed into the back with Sam.

The drive back seemed uneventful, but it was far better than the drive to the hospital. The element of uncertainty still loomed over them, but after about twenty minutes, they had arrived and the entire parking lot was teeming with people.

"What's going on?" Teresa asked as she looked at Sam. "I've never seen this many people in one place, at least not here in town."

"We should get inside and see what's happening," Sam said, but looked at Monica. "Do you have any idea what is going on? Has your Boss given us any indication as to what it is we're supposed to be doing here? This is rather strange, even for me."

"I haven't gotten any messages, Sam," she said as she got out of the car and closed the door. Taking a deep breath the angel began to anxiously run the keys through her hands as a means of calming herself down. "You both stay here and wait, I'm going to try and find Tess. Maybe she and Al were able to access some information haven't gotten."

"Good idea," Sam said as he helped Teresa get out of the car. As soon as they had closed the door, he looked at the young woman. "Teresa, have you any idea where Bear might be right now?"

"None at all," she said shaking her head. "But, I don't think Bear is going to be the most pressing of our problems." She took a deep breath, the smoky air filling her lungs and making her cough. "Oh my God, Sam, the building! Why didn't we notice it before."

"Maybe because the air around here leaves a lot to be desired," he mused, but turned his head to see that dark gray colored smoke was billowing out from the windows of the neighboring dwelling.

Teresa suddenly realized that most of the people who were now standing outside on the parking lot were the local homeless who had been residing in the various rooms of that building. Now they had truly lost their homes. Teresa, instead of contemplating her own hard luck in the matter started scanning the crowd in the hopes of seeing the large man whom she had come to know as Bear. Where is he? She asked herself, but casting a final glance towards Sam, she suddenly felt a shot of adrenaline cursing through her and started running towards the building all the while not even contemplating the danger she was running into.

Sam noticed this, but instead of immediately responding, he started after her. When he was close enough, he reached out, and grabbed her arm. "What are you doing? You can't just run into a burning building like this. Teresa, you could get killed."

"But, you don't understand, Sam," she whispered. "Bear is probably inside trying to help the kids get out. There are a lot of homeless teens in this area, and he's been looking out for them since day one."

"Maybe some of the other people here have seen him and can help us to find him," Sam said rationally.

"Most of them don't care," Teresa said, but as if to pacify her 'angel', she ran over to a group who were assembled not too far away from where they were standing. "Jojo," she addressed a tall, skinny man who smelled remotely like a brewery and who smiled at her through yellow teeth. "Where's Bear? Have you seen him."

"I dunno," the man slurred, his breath nearly knocking Teresa off her feet. "Haven't seen him since this mornin'."

She shifted her attention to the others in the group. "Have any of you seen Bear?" She asked, but when none of them seemed to care about what she was saying, she looked at Sam. "You see, they don't care, their only concern is where and when they can get their next bottle of booze." Her voice cracked, but she looked at him, the desperation etched in her words. "What are we going to do? I have no idea where he could be."

"I don't know what we should do," Sam said softly. "Monica said we should wait, but I can tell that you don't want to wait, you want to charge in there."

"I don't know what else to do, Bear would not just disappear, it's totally unlike him."

"Would he have gone into the hotel?" Sam asked as Monica returned, a grim expression shadowing the pretty face of the angel. After a moment, she suddenly stopped and stared.

Teresa turned and watched as a man dressed in a white suit came strolling casually across the parking lot in the direction of the door leading into the hotel. He passed where she was standing and nodded at Monica. His hands were stuffed in his pocket and a pair of round spectacles covered his eyes. As he walked through the door and into the confines of the hotel, Teresa's face went a shade whiter.

"The hotel?" Teresa mumbled as she stared at the man's retreating back. "Monica, who was that? Is he one of you?"

"Yes, his name is Henry," she said. "He's an Angel of Death."

"Then that means that Tess was right," Teresa said softly. "Something terrible is about to happen here. We have to make sure everyone gets out of the hotel." She looked at Sam. "Will you help me?"

The time traveler nodded. "That's what I'm here for."

Teresa offered him a half smile, but looked back over at Monica. "I-is Henry here for Bear?"

Monica shook her head. "I honestly don't know who his assignment is, Teresa. But, his presence here has affirmed that something could happen."

"Great," Sam muttered. "Al, where are you? Why do you pick moments such as these to pull a disappearing act?"

Teresa did not listen to anything that he was saying, instead, she ran towards the hotel, her fear completely forgotten as she threw open the door and rushed inside.

As she rushed through the lobby, she did not notice that the proprietor had seen her coming inside, stood up and was reaching for the bat in the corner.

Victoria had been doing the paper work and seemed completely oblivious to the disaster that was taking place just outside her door. As she came around the doorway with the bat in her hand, she regarded the young woman with the utmost hostility.

Swallowing, Teresa looked at the woman with the bat. "Have you completely lost your mind?" She shouted as Victoria came over with the intention of assaulting her.

"Get the hell out of here, you worthless vagrant," Victoria snapped. "Get out of here or I'll give you something you'll not soon forget."

"You want to hit me?" Teresa asked, "There's a building on fire next to this one and all you think about is assaulting other people. Specifically, the ones who actually want to help you. If you don't get out of here, this place could fall like a house of cards."

"I don't want you here," the woman seethed. "You and your kind destroyed my life, now get out of here before I make you wish that you were never born."

Teresa turned and looked at Henry, the angel simply stood and stared at them. "Time is running short," he whispered.

Teresa dodged her way past Victoria's onslaught, but she looked at the woman as though she was completely insane. "Do you even see who is standing here in this lobby right now?"

"Yes, a tramp who is about to get the shit beaten out of her if she doesn't get the hell out of here right now," Victoria said as she once more started towards Teresa. It was clear that the woman had every intention of using it to assault Teresa, but the youthful quickness of the younger woman served as an advantage.

As she dodged her way passed Victoria, she managed to cast a brief glance towards Henry. "She can't see you, can she?"

The Angel of Death shook his head as the woman came even closer. "Watch out Teresa, she's really insistent on killing you."

"She won't hit something she can't catch," Teresa muttered as she dodged her way past the woman.

"Oh my God, you're not only a vagrant, but you're also insane. You talk to people who aren't there." She started to take a swing at Teresa but was surprised when the door swung open and Sam rushed into the lobby.

"Where have you been?" Teresa managed.

"I was checking the backside of the hotel, Teresa, and we really have no time to lose, the entire back side of the hotel is on fire," Sam reported. "We have to get out of here right now."

"I'm not going anywhere," Victoria said as she continued to swing the bat around. "This is my hotel, and if you don't get this little whore out of here, I will not be responsible for what I do. I have already done away with one of you vagrants, and I have no problem doing away with another."

"What do you mean by that?" Sam demanded.

As if on impulse, Al suddenly appeared and spoke, his voice filled with concerned undertones. "Sam, you're not going to like this, it's Bear. The barracuda went and hit Bear over the head when he came in here trying to help her, he's back in one of the rooms passed out on the floor," Al said. "Here I thought that the guy had nerves of steel."

"And, what about the history you cited about Bear going on a killing spree?" Sam hissed.

"Ziggy was wrong, Sam," Al said casually. "That arrogant supercomputer has been wrong before, although she doesn't really like to be reminded of it. What I'm telling you now is that if you don't get in there and get Bear out, he will die."

Teresa's mouth fell open, but she looked at Victoria, her eyes no longer filled with fear, this time her expression carried absolute rage. This was a characteristic that took both Sam and Al completely by surprise. The hologram's serious expression melted away when he heard the young woman's words.

"You…you heartless bitch!" She shouted before she could stop herself. "Tell me what you did to him."

"The same thing I'm going to do to you," Victoria fumed as she heaved the bat up over her head with the intention of striking Teresa yet again. As she started to lower the object, another hand got in the way and stopped it by gripping the bat.

"I think you have injured enough people in this town with your hate and prejudice, Ms. Livingston. Now, you'd better get out of here before this tinderbox of a hotel collapses all around you."

At that moment, Teresa turned around and recognized that Tess was now standing, her fingers tightly encircling the bat and she seemed unwilling to let go.

She turned to Sam and Teresa. "Now, you babies get back there and get Bear before this place goes up in flames," she instructed. "I'm going to try and talk some sense into this lady here, and I use the term 'lady' quite loosely."

Teresa nodded. "We'll hurry, but where's Monica?"

"She's outside doing damage control. That is, she's trying to keep the people outside from panicking and running into the building. We don't need more tragedy than has already been dished out. Is that not right, Victoria?" The angel asked pointedly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the woman snapped.

"Oh, I think you do," the angel said hotly. "But, in case you don't know what I'm talking about, I will be more than happy to spell it out for you. What I'm talking about is you starting the fire next door because you think it will make your lot in life a bit better," Tess said, her voice dangerously low. "What your actions have resulted in will not make your life easier, in fact, it will destroy everything you have worked so hard to create. You have spent your whole life blaming everyone else for the things that have happened to you. Your father's death was not the fault of a homeless man, it happened because he was careless. You have wasted your life with prejudices and fears that are eating away at you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Victoria said.

"Oh I think you do," she said, but looked at Teresa. "Don't worry about Victoria, she's not going to lay a single finger on either of you. At least not as long as I'm here, and I sure am not intending on going anywhere. Now, baby, you go with Andrew and see to Bear. He's in the first room on the left side. Albert, you go with them, and make sure they get out of there with Bear before Henry has some more company."

"Who are you here for?" Teresa stammered as she looked at the Angel of Death.

"Teresa, we have to get Bear first," Sam said firmly as he reached out and touched her arm. "We get him out of here, and then we can play twenty questions with angels, alright?"

The girl nodded and together they ran down the hall and into the room.

Once they were gone, Tess turned back and looked at Victoria. "It's time for you to face facts, young lady. Your actions have destroyed every building in this little segment of town. You have, essentially become the key to your own undoing."

"I don't believe you," Victoria said.

"You don't have to," Tess said. "But, one thing is clear. If you don't get your cocky little backside out of this building, then you will see the man dressed in white that Teresa saw."

Victoria went back through the door and into her little room before she seated herself at the desk.

Tess sighed, the woman's decision had been made.


	23. Chapter 22

_Well, this is the last chapter before the epilogue. I can't believe I managed to get this one done a little bit differently than Elizabeth Hensley had suggested in her review of the sixteenth installment, but I think that this turned out pretty OK, with a few surprises affixed._

_I have to make a comment on one of the reviews. I am someone who can take constructive critiques rather well, specifically if the reviewer leaves me a specific place where they are critiquing and not simply leave a blanket statement for me to ponder. If people are going to critique objectively, then I want detail as to where my writing contains these perceived shortcomings. If it is not indicated in the review, then I tend to not take these words or comments seriously. Instead, I construe it as just a 'fault finding mission' on behalf of the reviewer. Whether that was the intention or not remains to be seen. However, that is what comes across and I will not take any sort of stance on it, whether offensively or defensively. In essence, I will ignore it as though nothing had been said at all._

_Thanks to Samwiseatheart and Onlyaman for sticking with this story since its start. It is really appreciated, and although the TBAA characters won't be present for my next 'Quantum Leap' story, I hope that you will both continue on Sam's adventures here._

_Take care everyone and enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 22**

As soon as Teresa and Sam had come into the room they spotted Bear lying on the floor. The large man lay with a open wound on one side of his face, and a crumpled up photograph clenched tightly in his fist.

"Should we move him?" She asked weakly. "I mean; if we do, we could cause more internal injuries than what he has already sustained. I don't know much about medicine, but that much is a given."

"Generally you're right," Sam responded as he crouched down beside the unconscious man. "At this moment, however, we really have no choice. We have to move him or else he will die."

"Yeah Sam, as in about thirty seconds," Al said as he began to punch the numbers on the colorful handlink he carried. "This whole place is gonna blow, and if you wait even a split second more, there's a 98.78 percent chance that both Teresa and Bear are going to die."

Teresa gasped and started to grab for Bear's arms and tried to drag him all by herself. Sam went over to the other side and threw his arm around the broad shoulders of the man.

"Hurry up Sam," Al barked.

"Take his other arm, Teresa and put it around your shoulders. You won't be able to bring him out of here you're trying to do."

"But he's so big," she whispered, "How can we possibly get him out, especially since he's twice our size?"

"I know, sweetheart," Sam whispered. "We have to do it this way, if you try to bring him out of here like that, you could do long-term damage to your back."

She nodded and did as he said.

As the two of them began to move the large man towards the door, the photograph slipped from between his limp fingers and landed on the floor. Without thinking about what was on it, Sam reached down, and grabbed it before sliding it into the pocket of his pants. His attention was now once more on Bear. With her help, the two of them managed to drag him towards the door.

"Sam, you've got only ten seconds," Al shouted, his voice now reaching a fevered pitch. "You're going to have to move faster than that."

As if working on adrenaline alone, Sam and Teresa used the last little bit of energy they had to heave Bear out the front door just as an explosion ripped the air.

"That was the back part," Al said. "It will trigger the front in two point seven seconds…" Before he could continue the second explosion could be heard and the they were all literally thrown to the ground, their bodies falling first and acting as a shield to that of the injured man.

As seconds slowly ticked by they could feel the debris literally flying over their heads and surrounding them like a halo. Teresa and Sam could both feel the ash as it covered their bodies. Instinctively, she started coughing, all the while feeling Sam's hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

"We did it," he whispered but watched as she grabbed the scruff of Bear's jacket collar and began to pull him even further away from the now burning building.

Using his body weight, Sam helped her to drag the heavyset man several meters away from the building. Once they had managed to distance themselves from it, Teresa could suddenly feel the soreness literally encompass her body and she moaned softly.

After what felt like hours, but was, in fact, seconds, Sam raised his head and turned around and noticed that in the distance the fire trucks were quickly approaching. "Did someone call an ambulance as well?" He managed to mutter.

"One of the witnesses has already called one," Monica spoke and Teresa found herself unable to do much of anything except nod tiredly.

Al stood off to one side and watched as three people suddenly emerged from the structure surrounded by a halo of bright white light. "Hey Sam, Teresa, look," he spoke, as the two of them managed to turn around and stare.

Once they did, what they saw took them by surprise. The two angels who had entered the building earlier were now coming outside with Victoria Livingston walking between them. She had done as she had promised and that was to sink with her destroyed vessel. The truth washed over the young woman as she watched. Henry had not come for her or Bear, but instead, had been sent to take the hotel owner to Heaven.

Instead of being dressed in the blue denim shirt and beige pants, the woman was now dressed in a beige flowing dress and her hair was practically flowing about against her shoulders. The most stunning thing about her was the fact that she, a person who in life had never showed any sign of cheerfulness was now carrying a bright smile on her face. This made the hologram do a double take.

"Holey mackerel," he muttered under his breath. "Sam, that barracuda is actually pretty when she smiles." As soon as these words were out, he took a draw on his cigar and exhaled slowly as he watched the three of them vanish.

"Where did they go?" Teresa whispered.

"Home," Monica said. "To God."

Teresa nodded but turned around to see Al watching and staring. Instead of speaking, she tried to get to her feet, but found herself sinking to her knees and staring at the burning building. "What did we just do?" She whispered.

"You and Sam just raced in there and saved Bear's life, Munchkin," Al said with a proud smile. "You're a hero."

"Yes," Monica said as she went over and rested her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "If Andrew had been here instead of Sam, then he would not have been able to help any of you get him out of there."

"Why not?" Teresa asked.

"Well, since Andrew is an angel, he is bounded by the rules that angels must uphold, and that is that we cannot get involved in human free will. That is, you made the choice to go in and help Bear, and you made the choice to help get him out. Since Sam is not bound by these rules, he would have been able to help you get Bear out of the hotel before it blew. If Sam and Andrew had not traded places, then Andrew would have had to take Bear home…"

"…And I would have taken you, Teresa," a voice emerged and she turned to see that Adam was now standing next to them, his gray eyes filled with gentility.

"My doctor is an angel, too?" Teresa looked at Monica as Tess approached where they were standing. "This is unbelievable."

"Adam is not just an angel, Baby, he is an Angel of Death, like Andrew and Henry," Tess explained.

Adam nodded. "Because Sam leaped into Andrew, two lives were saved today; yours and Bear's. It's just like Monica said. Sam was not bounded by the same rules that we are. If Andrew had been here, then you would have had to bring Bear out of the building all by yourself. Because of his size, you would not have been able to move him at all and would have died in the process."

"That's right," Al said. "They would have taken you away from us, Teresa." His eyes took on an unhappy expression, as he started at the young woman.

"So that means, I've really been surrounded by angels all this time," she said softly.

"Yeah, Munchkin, we all have," Al said. "And to think I thought all this Angel of Death stuff was just a load of malarkey. I guess there are really angels out there watching over us."

"Yes, Al there are," Monica said smiling. "Now, if you want to stay in touch with Al and Sam, Teresa, then you will need an address. Sam is about to leap again."

"I can't give her anything, she may be able to see me, but we cannot touch. I'm a hologram, pretty angel," Al said, but his statement was overshadowed by Sam's next question.

"Will I leap home this time?"

"No baby," Tess said shaking her head. "The Father just informed me that He needs you to go on one more adventure and then you will leap home, but you won't remember any of what we said until you get back," Tess said. Before Al could even speak, she pointed a scolding finger at him. "And I don't want you telling him that after he leaps. You hear me talking, Albert Calavicci?"

"Yes Mom," Al said sarcastically.

In response to this, Tess arched an eyebrow at him, but offered an approving nod.

Instead of receiving the address from Sam or Al, Monica handed a card to Teresa with the address in Stallion's Gate.

"Don't tell anyone about this place, Teresa," Sam said once she had pocketed the card. "Alright?"

She nodded. "I promise." She looked into the eyes of the time traveler and smiled. "I'm really going to miss you, Sam. And Al…"

"…We're going to miss you too, Munchkin," the hologram said smiling. He held up his hand and Teresa reached out and ran her hand through his as they had done the last time they had seen one another.

Once she had backed away from Al, she embraced Sam. Seconds later, the area was filled with blue light as Sam leaped out of the Angel of Death.

* * *

Seconds later, Andrew blinked and opened his eyes and looked at the dark-headed girl who was now hugging him. "I'm back," he mumbled as Teresa backed slowly away from him and looked into a pair of unfamiliar green eyes.

"Al? Sam?" She whispered.

"They're gone, honey," Tess said as she approached. "But there is still something that you have to do."

"What?"

Tess looked at Andrew. "Give her the picture in your pocket, Angel Boy."

Andrew dug in his pocket and pulled out the picture as the screaming sounds of the approaching ambulance could be heard in the distance. This he handed to Teresa and she found herself looking down at a faded photograph.

"Oh my God!" She whispered. "Daddy."

On the picture was a snapshot of her sister, brother, mother, and father. It was the same picture that was hanging in her mother's living room. "That man who promised to help me was not my father."

"No, baby, he was a con artist and there's another angel out there who is feeding that man the riot act. Your real father is Bear. He must have recognized you immediately and started looking out for you. He played along with all the painful things that were happening in your life, but seemed to be waiting for the moment to tell you. Of course, instead of him looking out for you, you have looked out for him and today you helped saved his life. God is very proud of you, baby."

Teresa looked at Tess. "Are you saying that there are three Angels of Death, and three people who would have died," Teresa whispered as she stared at the burning hotel. "I never would have thought that something like this would happen." She looked down at the card that now rested in her hand. "Sam and Al never knew that Bear is my father."

"They didn't need to know, Teresa. They were here to fulfill a promise that Al had made to you when you were a wee girl," Monica said. "If not for that experience, than this one would never have happened. The Father hears all prayers, and sometimes He sends you a time traveler and his trusty sidekick, and sometimes…"

"…Sometimes He sends a whole band of angels," Teresa finished for her. "He always knew what I wished for."

"Yes," Andrew said with a nod. "God sent you someone who could help you in ways that I could not."

"You and Adam would have taken us to Heaven?" Teresa asked.

"Yes, but I have to say that I am really glad that we were able to switch places like we did," Andrew said. "You would have found out about your father after you had gone home, and although that would have been an interesting reunion. I think it's better lived out here, don't you?"

Teresa nodded. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember everything, and now I am really ready to move on. Before, I couldn't, simply because this was all really hard for me. I didn't really know what to do," he said. "But, now I do."

"I'm glad," she said as the ambulance approached and stopped. Several minutes later, she watched as the paramedics put his body onto a stretcher.

As they loaded him on board the vehicle, Teresa looked at the four angels. "Thank you, for everything," she said.

"Don't thank us, baby, thank the One who sent us," Tess said.

"I do thank Him," she said.

"What are you going to do now?" Adam asked.

"Once he's healed up, we're going to go back to Scottsdale, together," she said, but looked at Tess. "Sam said that you might be able to give us a ride back. Is that possible?"

The angel nodded. "Of course it is baby. That is, as long as Miss Wings gives me back my keys."

Monica giggled and extended the keys to her supervisor. "Tess, maybe we should follow them," she said.

"We will," Tess said, but they watched as Teresa climbed into the ambulance and it drove away.

As soon as the angels were alone, Tess looked at her three charges. "That was good work babies."

"Thanks Tess," Adam said and nodded to Monica. "I have to get going, though, I have another case. It could go either way. I only hope this time it's not someone who is into 'Wheel of Fortune'."

"Adam didn't you have something for us?" Tess asked.

"Oh yes, the card," he said as he handed the card to Tess. "This is the card for Teresa in case she has any relapses after the procedure. His name is Jason."

With that, the Angel of Death disappeared leaving Andrew, Tess and Monica alone.


	24. Epilogue

_Well, I've been talking about what will happen next, and once you read this, you will know what my next 'Quantum Leap' Crossover is going to be. Here's hoping that you enjoyed 'Leaping into Death'. I am grateful to you folks who stuck with me through this. Please do let me know what you think, and I will see all of you (hopefully) back here again for the next story, entitled 'Just Desserts'._

_Thanks and enjoy!_

_Yva J. _

* * *

**Epilogue**

**New Mexico, 1999**

As soon as Sam leaped out of Andrew, Al returned to the imaging chamber.

He placed the handlink on the table and left the room. He had it in his mind to stop off at his office and then go out for a cold beer. Of course, he knew he could not just yet, as he had to find out where Sam had leaped to. It was no secret, the Project Observer needed a short break.

As soon as he came out in the hallway, he was nearly bowled over by a dark headed woman who threw herself into his arms. Standing several feet behind him was Gooshie who carried a strange smile on his face.

"Teresa!" Al spoke, all the while surprised to see the woman standing before him. Her eyes were filled with joy and she was smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Jack and I were just passing through and I asked him to drop me off here," she said. "How are you?"

"Since the last time we spoke, great," he said. "And you? What happened to you after Sam leaped out of Andrew?"

"After the angels brought me home, I started attending the community college and got my degree in Paleontology. Jack and I are getting married at the end of the year," Teresa said smiling. "Dad moved back to Scottsdale and although he and Mom are not exactly best friends, they have, at least, learned to tolerate each other. He got a place not too far away, is working at a construction site, and doing well."

"That's great," Al said. "How did you know to come here today?"

"On the card Monica gave to me just before Sam leaped, it had today's date written on it. I just decided that it was a sort of message for me to come here today, so we planned it this way."

"You've always been smart," he said smiling.

"It takes one to know one," she smiled impishly. "'Angel Al'. Look, I don't want to keep you from anything pressing, but I did want to stop by and see you. Has Sam leaped back home yet?"

"Not yet, but give me a number where I can reach you and I'll let you know when he does. Tess promised us that after this next big adventure, that he would leap home. I was actually on my way to the waiting room to see who Sam's latest leapee is."

"Well, I won't keep you then," she said as she grabbed a small card from the pocket of her purse and handed it to him. As soon as he had slipped the card into his pocket, she embraced him. "You really should cut down on those cigars Al, they make you smell funny," she giggled.

Al smiled, but ruffled her hair. "Take care, Munchkin, and we'll definitely stay in touch." He watched as she made her way down the hall, all the while bypassing Paula before heading outside.

Instead of following her, as he felt inclined to do, Al retraced his steps back down the hall to where Gooshie was standing and impatiently waiting for him to join him. "Admiral, you're not going to believe who Paula said is now in the waiting room."

"What happened with Paula?" He asked his voice indicative that he still felt somewhat protective of the young intern.

"Well, right after Dr. Beckett leaped, she came running out of the room looking for someone whom she could tell this news to," Gooshie explained. "She really looked as though she had six winning numbers in the lottery. You know that you are going to have to calm her down, she looked rather beside herself."

"Why? Is there another angel in there?" Al asked coyly, a smirk now shadowing his face. "To be completely honest, I really think that I have had about as many angels as I can take at this point." He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

"It's not an angel, Admiral, but it could prove to be just as worrisome," Gooshie responded. The tone of his voice was indicative that he had consumed twenty espressos and was now in the process of working on number twenty-one.

"OK, Gooshie, switch to decaf already. I'll go and check it out. Sheesh, you really do need to lighten up. Sometimes you simply hit panic mode without proper justification," Al said. "Besides, the way I see it, after what Sam just experienced with those angels, it would seem to me that his next leap should be a piece of cake."

"Yeah, chocolate cake," Gooshie mused.

"What?"

"Nothing," came the simple response.

Curious as to what Gooshie had meant, Al started to walk down the hallway towards Paula, who was standing and staring off into space. Her expression was unreadable, but wordlessly, she stared at the door to the waiting room. It was clear to anyone who looked at her that she wanted to go back inside, but her professionalism was keeping her from doing so.

"Paula, is everything alright?" Al asked.

She slowly turned and looked at him, a bright smile now stretching across her face. "I'm fine, Al, but you're not going to believe who Dr. Beckett has leaped into this time. It's like something straight out of a movie. A very nice movie at that."

"Is it a famous person?" Al asked immediately feeling the foreboding of the Oswald leap creeping up into his face. Seeing her smile, it became clear that whoever Sam had leaped into, Paula was experiencing something remotely related to 'instant attraction'.

"You could say that," she smiled and motioned towards the door leading into the waiting room. "Why don't you just go in and say 'hi'?"

Al nodded and made his way down the hall in the direction of the waiting room. His curiosity was now unmistakable.

* * *

The first thing that Al noticed when he came into the room was a man standing completely still, his eyes staring straight ahead and his hands lightly touching his clothing.

"Excuse me," the man eventually said, his voice emerging as a polite tenor.

It was obvious that he had heard the sound of the door opening and Al entering, but his knowing that the Project Observer was even present sent Al's thoughts into warp drive. He said nothing, instead he approached the man.

After several seconds had passed, the man slowly turned around and regarded Al, but his poise remained the same, straight as a line as though he was a soldier standing at attention.

Al inhaled sharply upon hearing these words, but spoke once he had managed to find his voice. "Yes?"

Crystalline blue eyes met his and Al gasped as he took in the curly mop of blonde hair that adorned the head of the man. It was no wonder Paula was somewhat star struck, this man carried a familiarity that could make any young woman swoon. Of course, the man's face did look familiar, although, he could not really place it.

The man was handsome, his eyes seeming to act as a mirror into his soul. There was an uncanny sort of feeling that encompassed Al when he looked into the eyes of Sam's leapee. He was quite striking, but Al could not even fathom how monumentally famous this man was.

Wracking his brain, he tried to remember where he had seen the man before, but for the life of him, he could not. Sam's leapee seemed to have found his voice before Al and spoke, his soft voice bringing him crashing back down to earth.

"Where am I?" He asked, all the while not sure of what to make of this new situation.

This was when Al took notice that the man did not necessarily look frightened, he simply appeared to be terribly confused and bewildered as to why it was he was even there.

"You're in a safe place," Al began.

"That does not answer my question, sir," the response emerged almost automatically as though the man was reading the lines from cue cards.

"You're in a place called the 'waiting room'," Al tried again.

"So it would seem," the response was brusque. "I must admit that this colorless dwelling is not what I am normally accustomed to."

Al nodded. "Yes, it's definitely white," he mused. "Please tell me your name."

"First tell me if the young lady who was in here when I arrived is alright," the man said as he cast a glance over towards the door, his confusion mounting. "She looked rather unnerved."

"Paula was a bit surprised, but she should be fine," Al said. "Now, please humor me and tell me your name."

"My name is Willy Wonka," the man said, his expression completely deadpan.

"Willy Wonka?" Al mumbled as though he had not heard right.

"Yes, and you're?"

"Just call me Al," he said but shook his head as though in denial. It's no wonder Paula was so freaked out about this, he thought but took a deep breath and began to speak once again. "You mean to tell me that you're the guy who makes those really great candy bars? That Willy Wonka?"

"Are there any others that I should be made aware of?" The question was swift with a trace of casual arrogance.

Al took a deep breath. "Oh boy…"

To be continued…


End file.
