


QUANTUM LEAP: A Leap Into Terror Part 1

by Tharpdevenport



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Drama, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-08
Updated: 2006-09-17
Packaged: 2013-05-24 04:11:49
Rating: T
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,323
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2003211/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/387194/Tharpdevenport
Summary: Sam leaps into the wrong place at the wrong time and very well may end his life & anothers' ... and a Leap he will not soon forget...





	1. Default Chapter

Quantun Leap: "A Leap Into Terror"  
  
We see nothing but blue, bright light and glittery flashes as slowly, a human form appears. The light flies off him in rays as blue lightening bolts wrap around his body and engulf the barrel of a hand gun.  
As quickly as it came, it faded out and washed over him into thin air, leaving us face to face with the weapon's barrel.  
BAM!  
Sam finally comes to his senses and looks out at the smoking barrel.  
He then looks straight ahead and sees a heavy-set man, with curly short brown hair in his 40s, grabbing his chest in pain.  
The man clenches his left hand into a fist and takes his right hand off his chest. It is covered in blood and his white undershirt stained with it and running down.  
He laughs and shakes a bit as if light-headed.  
"Heh, I didn't think you'd do it Mike. well, I'm sure Miss Johnson next door has already called the police," he closes his eyes and cries out in pain as he grabs his chest.  
Sam drops the gun and panics, "sorry. I'm a doctor, just let me-"  
"No!" the man screams as he uses his left hand to swat at Sam, "I hope you die," and with that he slouches against the wall and collapses to the floor.  
Sam kneels down quickly and picks up one of the man's wrists. No pulse. He moves the man flat upon his back and begins CPR.  
Al appears.  
"Al, I just killed a man. I didn't mean it, I just leaped into his as he pulled the trigger. There's no pulse Al, what do I do?"  
"Sam, you shot him in the left aorta - there's nothing you can do."  
"Well, I've got to do something!"  
"Well, what ever it is, better make it fast. Three units have been dispatches and are on route to this house Sam!"  
"Al, I can't revive him..."  
"Sam, I don't think you were sent here to kill a man and go to jail. So, arriva, arriva! Andalay!"  
"I can't just up and leave, what if the man I am had good reason? What if I was just defending myself?!"  
"Ah, Sam. Things just got worse."  
"Dad!" a young, pre-teen girl yells as she runs over and hugs Sam.  
"Oh boy..." 


	2. Quantum Leap: A Leap Into Terror Chapt...

Chapter 2: "The Run"

Sam hugs the girl and sees the gun on the floor.  
"Sam, her name is Catrina - she's your daughter, as you no doubt know. So that makes two people to pack for and you got five minutes till the 5-O show up"  
"Um, Catrina we got to go pack our things, we're going to have to take a vacation"  
Lets go and turns to see the dead man, "Is he dead dad"  
"I'm afraid so"  
"Good!" and she kicks the dead man.  
Sam grabs her shoulders and turns her around. He sees the tears in her eyes.  
"Let's go pack. You run to your room and get some cloths. Make sure there is clean underwear, tooth brush and plenty of sets of change. I'll be there in a minute. Go"  
She takes off.  
He bends over and picks the gun up, trying to forget the number of times he has had to hold one in previous leaps, "Al, fill me in as I go. We'll talk the next time we're in private"  
"Will do Sam"  
Sam looks around.  
"You're bedroom's over that way, where Catrina went," Al points with the hand holding the cigar.  
Sam takes off and Al follows.  
"Sam, in the original timeline Larry, the man you just shot to death, was tried and convicted of rape"  
"Who? he says as he enters the room. He starts searching the room.  
Al hesitates for a second, "Catrina. Sam, the man was a pedophile. And Sam," he takes a deep breath, "you just found out he has raped her on several occasions"  
Sam stops searching the bedroom closet and looks at Al.  
Catrina enters the room.  
"Dad, what are you doing"  
"I can't find my luggage. I know this is going to sound silly honey, but - do I have luggage"  
"It's still packed and by the front door. Why"  
"Ziggy says you we're going on a vacation. You were just about to leave when Larry showed up"  
"Where are the car keys?" Sam asks Catrina.  
"The Cherokee, or the Taurus"  
"The Cherokee Sam, it's a jeep. Like an SUV," Al helps out.  
"The Cherokee," replies Sam.  
"In your pocket. You put it there a minute ago," says Catrina.  
"Oh, right. Run to the front door."

-Cut to the Living Room and Sam and Catrina picking up their suitcases. Sam opens the front door. They run out-  
"Sam, three minutes!" Al shouts.  
Sam opens a side and throws the luggage into the back seat, "Get in"  
"Mr. Devins! Is everything all right? I heard gun fire!" calls out old Miss Johnsons from behind her fence.  
Sam slams the door and hops into the driver's seat. He fumbles in his pocket for the keys and jams them into the ignition and starts the vehicle, "Put your safety belt on honey"  
Catrina does so as Sam puts it into reverse.  
"Mr. Devins! Mr. Devins!" she watches them pull away and runs into her house.

As they drive Sam notices bruises on Catrina's left shoulder that look like fingers and a broken off and loose hanging strap from the blue jean overalls.  
"You didn't do it Sam, it was that Larry creep. Now, they're setting up road blocks, so about five miles we're gonna come to an intersection. Take a left and from there I'll guide you to Interstate 10. Make sure she puts on a shirt - you don't want to raise any suspicion"  
"Dad, Al says I should put on a shirt to hide the bruises," says Catrina.  
Sam takes his eyes off the road and glances at Al quickly.  
"Can she see you? I thought only young children could see you. Alpha brain waves, or something"  
"I don't know," Al passes a hand in front of her face.  
Catrina laughs and tries to push Al's hand out of the way. Her hand passes threw him, "Silly. Dad, Al's my imaginary friend. You know that. Lucky he let you start seeing him a while back"  
"Oh, of course.," says Sam.  
"Very strange Sam. How did she know my name"  
"She must have overheard me saying it"  
"You told me," she says at the same time as Sam spoke.  
"Catrina, sweetheart, Al's daddy's friend too"  
"Daddy"  
"Yes honey"  
"Why does he still call you Sam"  
"Ah, daddy, turn there at the stop light," says Al.  
"Left"  
"Yeah. there will be a dirt road on you're right that will spill out onto I10 East."

-Cut to them driving off onto I10.-

"Honey, are you all right? He didn't hurt you did he? It's okay to tell me"  
"He was only angry cause he loved me," Catrina replies.  
"What!" Sam almost yells. He screeches into a Exit, cutting off another vehicle. He comes to a holt at a gas station.  
"What?" she asks.  
"You need to go to the bathroom?" asks Sam.  
"I guess so"  
"Me too. Let's go inside"  
They exit the SUV and go in.  
Sam walks up to the register, "Excuse me sir, where are the restrooms? I don't seem to see them"  
"They're on the side," replies the redneck man behind the counter.  
"Thank you, Catrina"  
"You need a key," smacks his lips.  
"Well," looks to the side and back, "can I have the key"  
"You got to buy something first," his heavy southern accent overbares.  
"Fine," takes out his wallet, luckily in his right pocket, and slaps down a five dollar bill, "here's a five. When I come back we'll buy something and you can keep the change. Can I please now have the key"  
"It's hanging by the bathroom door on the left," takes the five.  
"You mean you didn't have it in here"  
"Don't want to touch it. Never knows if someone washes their hands."

They walk to the side. Sam notices each stall is on opposite sides.  
"Honey, if you finish before me and I'm not out, go back in and wait till I knock. I don't want you out here alone"  
"Okay," she goes in and closes and locks the door.  
Sam walks into the men's stall and sees the filth. Al appears.  
"What's with the Blue's Brothers maneuver? Sam? Sam, why won't you answer me"  
"Al ... I'm no Psychologist, but this girl needs serious counseling and therapy. Al, I was so enraged - I wanted to shoot him again. She thinks she has an imaginary friend; no doubt self-created to comfort her emotionally after the times she was raped. Lucky his name is Al; now we don't have to hide away to talk.  
But do you know what infuriates me the most? She said she loved him"  
"There's no need to yell Sam, I may be a hologram, but I can hear you quite clearly"  
"I want to yell! He's distorted her mind! Because of what he did she'll grow up never knowing a normal life, or trusting a man. She'll have bad relationships and years, if not decades of emotional counseling"  
"It's a sad fact of life. If it were up to me, I'd put them all in the electric chair and personally throw the switch for each one. Men like that tarnish our society. No, the chair's to good for them. It's too good"  
"You know, about five years before I Leaped, my neighbor's daughter was raped and strangled by her uncle. I saw the signs of abuse, but kept telling myself I was just imagining; I was just seeing things wrong.  
She was a good girl and one of the reasons why I worked so hard at perfecting the Accelerator ... I had almost forgotten," he looks up into the sink's mirror. staring back at him is a man in his late 30s with short, brown hair and dark brown eyes.  
Al instinctively tries to put a hand on Sam's shoulder and it falls through him. He looks at his hand, turning it over and back, "I know exactly how you feel. Back when I was in the orphanage, I had this female friend ... ah, Rose. And one of the people who worked there would do things to her - awful things, " he tears up, " and one night she confided in me this and was so sad and angry with herself. Saying she let it happen. I tried to tell her otherwise and was even ready to pack my bags and run away with her"  
"What happened"  
"The next morning I woke up to screams and ran to see what the commotion was about. Sam ... she was hanging there. Just cold and blue. She used a few pairs of her underwear and hung herself. I left that day and joined the circus"  
"I'm sorry. What ever happened to the guy"  
Al looks up with watery eyes and a type of indescribable anger into Sam's eyes. He presses a few buttons and the gateway appears. He steps back into the portal and it shuts.  
Sam looks out quietly and them back into the mirror, "Where do I go now?"

Sam walks out of the bathroom and when he shuts the door, he sees the station attendant holding the female's bathroom door open slightly.  
"Hey!" he runs over there as the attendant looks at him funny. Sam grabs him by the shirt and thrusts him against the warn cement wall.  
"Ay man!" he calls out.  
"You - ten seconds to tell me what the hell you were doing holding the door open to the stall my daughter is in"  
"She came and got me cause there was no tissue in there. I just got here and handed it to her. I swear I didn't touch, or mean to touch, or what have ya"  
Holds him firmly against the wall, "Sweetheart, is that true?" he says without looking away from the man's eyes.  
Catrina answers, "Yes, he was telling the truth"  
"Looks at the man and shuts the door as he says, "Hurry up - we're leaving"  
"See? I told ya"  
"Sam moves in closer and eyes him with anger, "But you didn't have to stand at the entrance, or let her crack the door open that far"  
"Well, ye know how it is," says the man coyly.  
"No, I don't know," he reaches into the man's pocket and pulls out his wallet. He takes a five, "I'll take my business someplace else thank you," and throws the wallet as Catrina comes out.  
"Dad! Don't get angry, he was just helping"  
"Come on, back to the car"  
"It's an SUV"  
"Just," he pauses and closes his eyes for a second, "go"  
They walk off and as Sam does so he turns around and shouts, "And I didn't wash my hands!"

-Cut to the SUV screeching back and pealing out.-

A few hours later. It is dark and Catrina's head is off to her side as she slumbers. Sam yawns and tries to stay awake. Al appears.  
"Sam, I think you better pull off and find a place to stay for the night. Statistics show tired drivers are almost as dangerous as drunk drivers"  
"Yeah, I'll pull over on the next stop. Al, what happened in the original timeline"  
Fiddles with the hand-held datalink, "Ziggy says you shot him dead and went to jail. You received the death penalty. They executed him Sam"  
"I mean, what happened to Catrina"  
"Killed"  
"How?" he asks, concerned.  
"Ziggy says she'll be killed two," hits the device on it's side and it makes noises, "days from now in a seedy motel just five miles from the Florida panhandle border"  
"Well, it's simple. We'll avoid the border and stay in hotels. I saw some credit cards in his wallet and a Boucher for Hawaii. I think they were going there for their vacation"  
"Yeah, you can put her away from it all. Stay in the Hilton, or something," replies Al.  
"Al, does Ziggy know why I'm here? Cause I already shot a man, left everyone I might have known and pulled my daughter to safety. I mean, what could I possibly do now besides protect her"  
Al's face turns to horror, "Sam - Ziggy says there's a 98.6 percent chance you're both gonna die"  
Sam turns to look at Al.  
The orange glow of the interstate lights sweep across Catrina's face. 


	3. Avoidance

Chapter 3: "Avoidance"

"And then he threw me up against that wall there and looked at me like he was going to make me his prison-bitch," recanted the gas attendant.  
"Anyone ever tell you, you speak like Festus"  
"Whose that"  
"Never mind. Can you play the video"  
"Yeah. Just let me press play," the attendant presses the play button on the VCR in the back room of the store.  
The sheriff sees Sam and Catrina in the store and grinds his teeth.  
"That's enough. I said that's enough - shut it off," he commands in a thick southern accent with enunciations on the last three words.  
"Well, there was a bit more"  
"Save it for Judge Walters. Thank you Buford"  
"Well, eh, ya not gonna take it"  
"No, I won't be here - I'm going after him"  
He turns about and leaves the store. While walking to his old, beat-up cruiser, he whacks his baton on his leg's side a few times.

Sam walks to an ice machine in the hotel hall recessed area. Still a bit tired and holding up the ice bucket. Al appears.  
"Good morning Sam. Practicing for your role in the remake of Dawn of the Dead"  
"Lousy"  
"It wasn't that bad a movie"  
"I mean I feel bad. It's like the bucket weighs ten pounds," replies Sam.  
"I'm tired too, but this still doesn't weigh much," he holds up the datalink, "It's more likely what's on your mind that feels so heavy"  
"I didn't sleep much. I just had the strangest urge to stay up all night and keep watch over her"  
"It's good that you care for her Sam. You're probably the only one, you know? Wish I had known that feeling"  
"What happened to her mother"  
"Killed in a car wreck three years ago," answers Al.  
"Does she have any family, or relatives nearby"  
"None within driving distance. Ah, weren't you gonna get ice, or something"  
"Oh yeah. Al, please don't mention anything in front of Catrina about dying"  
"Oh yes, of course. I'd never do that"  
"I'm still gonna die right"  
"Yeah, Ziggy says it's now 99. About a week from now"  
Cuts him off, "A week? I've already been here three days. Something's not right"  
"Well, I don't see what it could be Sam," he presses some buttons on the datalink, "still the same. Guess you're here until Catrina's safe. Even if that means a year - which you don't got. You're gonna be arrested, tried for murder and executed less than a week from now"  
Sam slides the ice machine door shut.  
"Murder. I murdered him. It just suddenly hit me Al. All this time I was so worried about getting away and protecting Catrina, that I hadn't considered the consequences of my actions"  
"You did what was right Sam. That piece of filth deserved to die"  
"You may be right, but somehow I don't think the law will feel the same. Can you do me a favor"  
"Sure thing," he says after taking out the cigar from his mouth.  
"Go check on Catrina; let me know how she is"  
"How you gonna repay a hologram a favor? Back in a jiffy," he presses a few buttons and blinks out of existence.  
Sam starts back to the room, on the floor below. Al appears.  
"Hey, wait up," he walks with Sam, "she's awake and fine. Says she's hungry. You didn't buy anything to eat last night"  
"I was too tired. I had to pull off"  
"Well, a grown girl like her needs substance, nutrition, health and vitamins. There's a snack machine around the corner."

Al reappears in the hotel room.  
"Hey Catrina, your dad's coming right down"  
"Thank you," she mutes the TV and walks over to the bed and sits across from where Al is standing, "Al, am I in trouble"  
"No, I don't think so - why would you say that"  
"My dad hasn't said much since we left. I think he's angry at me"  
"That's not true - not true at all. Your father is ... he's just got a lot on his mind. He loves you. I guarantee it"  
"What's gonna happen to us"  
"Ahhh...," he hides his mouth behind the handlink, "you're gonna go to Hawaii in a few days. Just think about the beautiful blue ocean; seagulls gliding through the air; and palm trees swaying in the sea's air current"  
"It sounds so pretty. Thank you Al"  
"You're welcome. Now," he sticks out his cigar, "how did you know my name again?" and raises an eyebrow.  
"You told me," Catrina replies.  
The door opens and in steps Sam.  
"You told me, great," he puts up his hands in frustration.  
"Told you what?" asks Sam.  
"Ah, never mind - forget it"  
"Catrina, honey, I brought you some snacks. I couldn't remember what you like, so I got Twix, Butterfinger, Snickers and what appears to be a stale Honey Bun. I tried to cover all the bases"  
"I like them," she smiles and opens one, "what bases"  
"It's an expression," answers Sam.  
"Did you get me something?" asks Al.  
Looks at him silly, "You can have the stale Honey Bun."

Sam paces slowly back and forth. He pivots his head back to stretch his neck.  
"Ah, sweetie ... we kind of need to have a little talk"  
Someone knocks on the door.  
"Oh, please be a skinny brunette in a maid uniform"  
Sam shakes his head and walks over and opens the room's door after looking out the peephole, "Yeah"  
"I'm hotel management. Just checking on my guests. Are you finding your stay all right"  
"Everything's fine. You go to all rooms?" asks Sam.  
"Don't call us Best Western for nothing. Sure there's nothing you need"  
"No, can't think of a thing," Sam replies.  
"You just call the front desk if a need should arise. Enjoy your stay"  
"Thank you," he closes the door and locks it.  
"I think that's the first time I've ever been glad someone wasn't wearing a maid outfit"  
"Al, do you think you could tone down certain ... grown-up related subject matter"  
"Oh - I see. Sorry Sam"  
"It's okay. I'm just gonna have a serious conversation in a minute and don't feel those are appropriate. You know"  
"Yeah, sure. I'll just stand here and do ... something"  
"Thanks," he takes a breath and turns around to see Catrina sitting indian style in the middle of the bed.  
He sits down a bit unnerved.  
"Honey, can I talk to you for a minute"  
"Am I in trouble?" she asks.  
"No, you're not in trouble. This is a talk I have been meaning to have with you for quite ... sometime"  
She looks down and continues eating the Honey Bun.  
"Daddy's going to say some things you may not understand, maybe even make you uncomfortable"  
"That's my cue," Al punches the buttons and the blue gateway opens.  
"Al please"  
"You know this brings up some bad memories and makes it very difficult on me to hear this stuff," says Al.  
"Then this is just as much for you, as it is for her. Al, do you want to hide it for another 20 years"  
Al looks up with a mournful frown and a bit teary eyed and shuts the gateway.  
"No," he says in a voice barely audible as he shakes his head, "I don't think I could"  
"This doesn't sound like it's going to be any good," says Catrina.  
He sits on the bed next to her, "We have to talk about Larry"  
Catrina doesn't say anything.  
"And what he did to you"  
She picks up the television remote and turns the TV on to tune Sam out.  
"We have to talk about it," he takes the remote while saying and turns the television off.  
"No," she turns around and tries to leave.  
"Will you listen to me?" he grabs her and tries to turn her to face him.  
"I don't wanna," she struggles to free herself.  
"You should really listen to him Catrina," says Al.  
"Look at me. I said look at me! What he did to you was wrong"  
"Stop"  
"It was inappropriate and against the law"  
"Grown men don't do that to girls you age, or any age for that matter," Al chimes in again.  
"But it's not something to be ashamed of. You're not alone. there's a word for what he did to you"  
"I don't want to hear this - stop!" she calls out while crying and still trying to free herself.  
"Rape. He raped you and more than once"  
"No"  
"Yes. And that isn't love. No matter how he said it, no matter how he tried to explain. People who really love each other don't rape the person they love. Look at me!" he yells.  
She finally gives in and he sees her face. Her hair is frazzled and eyes teared up and running streams down her young face.  
"Dad," she cries out to him.  
"I know Catrina. Rape isn't right no matter what the circumstances. I'm sorry you had to go through that"  
She moves in an falls against him and holds him tight in a hug.  
He holds her tight and gently pets her hair. He holds her safely and doesn't let go.  
"Was it right to kill him?" she looks up at his face.  
"Well"  
"If what he did to me was so wrong, didn't he deserve it"  
He sees streams of tears down her face and innocence lost and her, looking to him for comfort and love. He squeezes tight, "Yes ... yes he did"  
"Dad, I don't want anybody to ever know. Promise you won't ever say anything, promise"  
"I want to, I really want to, but you have to see a doctor. Nurses, specialists - they'll have to know. At your age your body is not ready to go through what you did. There may be tarring, scarring - possibly even bleeding inside"  
"Am I gonna die?" she says quickly with fear in her voice.  
"If we catch it early, we may be able to prevent infection, swelling. honey ... when you pee"  
Al covers his ears and starts humming loudly.  
"Do you find blood in the toilet when you are through? Does it hurt when you go to the bathroom"  
"She looks down, "yes"  
Sam sits there holding her and unsure of what to say next.

The door to the hotel check-in opens.  
The manager finishes up writing something when a hand slaps the counter. He looks at it and sees a wad of cash. In front of him is the sheriff.  
"Sheriff Jenkins. That was quick like"  
Says as the manager takes the cash, "The Decatur Sheriff's Department thanks you for your anonymous tip. What room are they in Carl"  
"85. The second floor on the right. My right," he hands him the key.  
"Thanks Carl. Tell your wife I said hey and you take care"  
"Will do Sheriff Jenkins. Will do."

Sam lets go.  
"We'll need to stop and see a doctor soon. Early prevention is always the best. Al, what's the biggest hospital nearby"  
"The biggest one is in Tal," whacks it on the side; it makes a wailing noise, "lahassee. Tallahassee. About a hundred-fifty miles from here"  
"I thought we were going to Hawaii," says Catrina.  
Sam looks at Al, "Hawaii"  
"Oh! Yeah, we are ... I mean, you are. No, YOU two are. Going to Hawaii," Al closes his eyes in disbelief of his cover up.  
"Al, are you telling me the truth? It doesn't look like it," says Catrina.  
"Gee, you know, she sounds just like my second, no - third wife. No - it was definitely the second. She'd corner me every time I came home"  
"Honey, we are going, but we're using the airport in Tallahassee," replies Sam.  
"What about the one next to our city?" asks Catrina.  
"Ah, it doesn't have flights out of the contingent states. You know what contingent means, right"  
"Yes," she replies rolling her eyes.  
"Ah, Sam," Al breaks in.  
"Yeah"  
"It's your 10 O'clock wake up call - there's a sheriff here"  
"Now"  
"No, he's going to his cruiser out front"  
"Get your stuff quickly!" he yells to Catrina.  
Sam runs over to his suitcase and opens it. He pulls out a knife. As he shuts the case he sees the small revolver he used on Larry.

Sheriff Jenkins knocks on the room door.  
"This is Sheriff Jenkins of the Decatur Police Department, open up"  
He waits with a hand rested on his gun.  
"Mister Devins, you have until the count of three, or I'll break this damned door down! Get you ass out!" he shouts.  
He taps his left foot a few times, takes his hand off his firearm, backs up and kicks the door violently. It splits and he kicks it again, this time his foot gets stuck in it. He pulls it out and tries to push the door in with his foot. He finally realizes the hole isn't big enough to squeeze through and that the lock is holding the door in. He pulls out his gun, aims and fires at the lock three times. Splinters of wood scatter.  
He kicks it in and runs in with his weapon drawn.  
The hotel manager looks in and backs out as Jenkins comes out.  
"Ah, did you have to do that Tom?" says the Manager.  
"Yes, yes I did. Don't you EVER question my methods again Carl, or you'll feel what the door feels"  
"Sheriff, your car"  
Jenkins looks out at his beat up police car and sees Devins stabbing the last of his tires.  
He yells, "MICHAEL!" and he grabs the railing and thinks about jumping down.  
"Tom, that's two stories down!" says the Manager.  
He pushes the Manager over and runs for the stairs.

"Hurry Sam, hurry! He's coming downstairs!" warns Al.  
"I know!" Sam says as he puts the pocket knife in his pocket and runs to the driver's side of the Cherokee. He slams the door and puts the keys in and starts it up.  
"Honey, are you buckled in?" he asks Catrina.  
"Top and bottom," she replies.  
"Good," and he floors it out of the hotel lot.

Jenkins runs out into the lot and fires at them repeatedly. The back window breaks a bit.  
He stops and goes to his unit.  
The Manager uncovers his ears, "Wow"  
Jenkins opens his door and grabs the communicator and presses send. He hears no noise. He sits and starts the unit - it does nothing.  
"Your hood's open," says Carl.  
"What!" he gets out and opens it all the way. He looks and slams it.  
"OW! Darnit Tom, that's twice! What is it"  
"He cut the battery lines. I can't even reach dispatch," he hoofs.  
"I noticed you got in your car pretty fast"  
"So? Is there going to be a point to this!" shouts Jenkins angrily and full of impatience.  
"Well, I suspect this situation wouldn't be if you had just locked your doors," replied Carl.  
Jenkins kicks the unit.  
"Come on, I need you to unlock the lobby so I can get to the phone, " he points a finger at Carl, "he's not going to get far..." 


	4. Chapter 4: Untitled

Chapter 4: Untitled

The Cherokee speeds down the interstate at 70 MPH in the pre-dawn hours. Sam takes a sigh of relief from a few hours of no pursuit.  
"Al, any sign of trouble"  
Fiddles with the datalink, "Yeah. Ziggy says an APB was issued in this county and the surrounding, for you. There's cops all over the place looking for you Sam. You might even make it on America's Most Wanted"  
"Al, am I still gonna ... you know? Go to Hawaii"  
"No, you're gonna go to jail and -- ow! Okay. Ah, you're chances of going to Hawaii are still the same"  
"Not so loud," he looks over at Catrina, who is napping, "what about her"  
"Hers' have actually gone down a bit. I think you did it. Your practically at the state line"  
"Then why haven't I Leaped"  
"Here," sticks out the datalink, "you want me to record that for you, so every time you save the day, you can sprinkle it with pessimism"  
"Al, I had to be here to save her. I can't just be here to save my own ass"  
"Oh, wouldn't it be great if you were here to save Pamela Anderson's ass"  
"Al, don't side track"  
"Well, I don't really have anything else to say," he presses some buttons and the Imaging Chamber door appears, "so I guess it's Aloha"  
"Do you think you could stay"  
Steps back from walking into the Imaging Chamber door, located right behind him, in the backseat, "Sure. What's up?" shuts the door.  
"I just need some company," replies Sam.  
"Okay. Hey," he laughs, "Three's Company. I don't have anything to do really"  
"You mean there isn't some exotic girl half your age waiting for you back in the future"  
"Beth is all the women I'll ever need; I can never thank you enough for that Sam. Gosh, it's been a while since I've mentioned her, hasn't it"  
"A few months"  
"She's off visiting her mother, naturally I couldn't go," sighs, "Oh Sam, sometimes I wonder"  
"About"  
"About? About nothing, never mind. You know, I don't want you to go to Hawaii. You're my friend. I care about you. I got to be honest, when you Leap - it scares me a little. I'm always worried Ziggy won't find you in time and when I get there you will have been shot, hanged, murdered, or something. There's a part of me that's always relieved to see you unharmed"  
"I'm not quite sure what to say. I have thoughts sometimes that the next Leap may be my last and that I may never see you again.  
Honestly, it scares me. I remember the time I was in the electric chair, facing death and unsure I'd survive it"  
"Luckily you Leaped"  
"What's important is that you were there; I can't imagine dying alone. Who would take care of her"  
"Well," presses some buttons, she's got an aunt and a cousin"  
"You know what I mean"  
"Not entirely, what with my orphanage upbringing, but I think I get the picture.  
How could someone do that to a girl, a little girl? It just," he shows his frustration, "It just boggles the mind. You know? When you think of the mentality"  
"Al," he says to Al in a manner that would get his attention.  
Catrina wakes up. She yawns and tries to stretch.  
"Good morning sleepyhead," greets Al.  
"Good morning Al," she sticks a hand back for him to hold on the passenger seat top.  
He plays along and puts his hand as close to hers as he can without passing threw it.  
"Did you sleep well honey?" asks Sam.  
"I feel crampt. Are we going to stop anywhere?" she replies.  
"I suppose we could get some gas. Are you hungry?" asks Sam.  
"No, I'm Turkey," she replies. Al chuckles hardily. "I have to go to the bathroom, but I could use some food too"  
"Oh, you could get some of those little white powdered doughnut thingies," suggests Al.  
"She can't - you can't have candy all the time. You need some meat, some protein. We'll stop at Burger King after we gas up"  
Catrina wipes her eyes and turns around to see out the back window. Sam takes a quick glance while Al turns around to see too.  
"What? What is it?" Al looks.  
Shakes her head, "Noth ... nothing"  
"It's okay honey; if they were there, they'd have pulled us over by now. So I guess the Tallahassee airport story isn't working anymore"  
"Al lies better"  
"Strange, all my ex wives seemed to think differently. You know, I almost forgot I was married so many times. Sam, thank you for saving me from that timeline"  
Chuckles, "Jigs up. Next exit, Texaco. Did that say Burger King"  
"Ah, I wasn't paying attention," Al says.  
"Yeah..." she stares out the window.  
"All right. I hear that over there you can have it you way"  
Catrina smiles.  
"Hold the pickles ... what a way to begin a jingle," says Al.  
She replies, "I won't sing."

-The Cherokee pulls up to a pump-  
"I got to go to the bathroom," she opens the passenger door.  
"Wait, I don't want you going alone"  
"Dad, what are you going to do? Come in there with me"  
"That's not what I meant. What I meant was, let's go into the station together, so I an keep an eye out for you"  
"Dad, not everyone's a pervert"  
"Yes, that may be so, but you don't know if they are until it's too late"  
"Al can follow me in"  
"It'll only take a few minutes to pump the gas"  
"I really have to go"  
Sighs, "Al, can you take her in for me"  
"Why not," raises his hands. A cigar in one and the datalink in the other, "come on Catrina," they all get out of the Cherokee.  
"Watch her," Sam warns cautiously.  
"Yeah. Yeah I will," he answers.  
"I'll be in there in a minute"  
"Walk this way," he says to Catrina and starts walking funny. Catrina imitates him to the station.  
Sam slides one of the credit cards from his wallet and starts pumping gas.  
His attention turns to the person at the pump behind him once he realizes the man is talking to him.  
"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was kind of lost in thought"  
"I said, you do know your back windshield has a bullet hole in it"  
"The hole - yeah," he struggles to think, "I'm not even sure how it got there"  
The man looks at him oddly, "You don't know how your glass window was shot"  
"Stranger things have happened"  
Looks at his license plate's city, "I'll make sure to not ever pass through your town. I wanna keep all my windows"  
Notices he's gone over and stops, "Ah, sounds good. It's been nice talking to you"  
He starts walking to the station. Al appears at the Cherokee.  
"Sam?" looks around quickly and sees him. He presses a few buttons and blinks instantly from the SUV's location to Sam; he walks with him.  
Sam stops, "Is anything wrong"  
"No, she's fine. She said she had to do a number two, so I gave her some privacy"  
Gestures, "Well, couldn't you have just walked away from the door?"

The guy Sam had talked to briefly looks out and sees Sam talking to himself and making gestures with his hands.  
"Weird..."

"Okay, okay. I'm just worried for her safety"  
"Well, that's good, cause right now it looks like she could really use some saving"  
"What did Ziggy say"  
"Ziggy says there's now a 95 percent chance that in less than 24 hours," he hesitates.  
"What! What happens in less than 24 hours"  
"She gets shot and she dies"  
"I thought that happened a few days from now? We're almost at the border"  
"Well, you must have changed history, cause tonight, that nice Sheriff you meat the other day, shoots her. She's pronounced dead on the scene"  
Sam turns to look at Al somberly.

Catrina pulls off her underwear.  
She wipes the tears from one of her eyes. She looks at the blood stained undergarment and throws it in the trash can. She places some used towels from drying her hands, on top of them.  
She pulls up her blue jeans and zips them up and buttons them. She turns to the toilet paper and starts removing sections after sections. She folds them over onto each other carefully and shoves them down her pants; each time pressing out the wads to smooth them out and hide their presence.  
She flushes the toilet and the visible blood dyed water swirls away.

"Ah, I'll be in the car. I mean truck," Al blinks away.  
Sam walks in and to the bathroom. He knocks on it a couple times.  
"You okay in their honey"  
She calls back out, "Dad, I'm nearly 12 -- stop calling me sweetie, honey, sugar"  
"I'll take that as a yes. I'll be at the entrance," he takes a few steps and then ads, "darling," and quickly walks off.

"Will this be all for you today sir?" asks the cashier.  
"Yeah. Hey, can you tell me if Burger King is open yet"  
"Oh, they open early. Doors should be open any minute now"  
Catrina walks by and out the door.  
"Thanks, could I have a bag for this stuff?"

Al "sits." somberly in the Cherokee and remembering his childhood and how things could have been different.  
He sees Catrina coming. He hesitates from leaving just to let Sam know, so he can make sure she gets there okay.  
She closes the door.  
"Hey, where's Sa - I mean your dad"  
"Inside paying for some snacks. Looks like more candy"  
"He spoils you, you know. Wait - paying"  
"Yeah"  
He gets a little panicked, "Stay right here. I will be right back," and vanishes.

Al appears next to Sam. "Sam"  
"What"  
"I said 11.52 in tax and this card is expired," replies the cashier.  
"Stop! Don't use those cards"  
Tilts his head to Al, "Why"  
"Well, I'm no expert, but I think you didn't pay," answers the cashier.  
"Thanks," Sam says sarcastically and looks for another card.  
"Maybe your brains too swiss-cheesed to remember, but they can track you when you make a purchase"  
"They can"  
"They do. All the time," says the cashier non-chalantly.  
"Here," pulls out a 20 dollar bill.  
"Oh, Catrina's in the truck thingy. She's fine - I can see her from here"  
"Keep the change," and with that Sam takes the bagged up items quickly, "Go wait with her"  
The cashier says puzzled, "Sir, I'm on duty right now"  
"I wasn't talking to you"  
Al blinks out.

He appears back in the Cherokee.  
Catrina is bent over the backseat, rummaging through the trunk area.  
"Hey, your dad's coming right - what are you doing"  
She shoves something down her pants before turning to face him, "Looking for something"  
"For what?" Al inquires.  
"None of your business"  
"Well - excuse me! No nosey nelly am I"  
"Al"  
"Yeah sweetheart"  
"Have you ever been to Hawaii"  
"Once, many years ago. When I was in the army"  
"I wish I could go"  
"You are"  
She turns her head to him and Al sees a disheartening look upon her face. He chews on the cigar trying to read the meaning.  
The driver's door opens and Sam gets in after putting the bag of stuff in between the seats.  
"Catrina I thought I told you to wait for me when you were done. Don't worry me like that. Please"  
"Sorry," she reaches for the snacks. Sam blocks her.  
"These are for after Burger King. They're desert. But, if you'd take these drinks and place them in the cooler, you can have this now," he holds out his clenched fists, "guess which hand"  
Smiles and decides, "Maybe this one - cause your fist looks bigger, but you could be fooling me"  
"Oh, I remember this nice old guy in the orphanage; brings back so many memories. He used to put a dollar in a hand and make me guess. I loved that old man," says Al.  
Rolls her eyes up and looks at him, "This one"  
"You sure?" asks Sam.  
"Yes"  
"Completely"  
"Positive - now open it"  
His fingers give way and in his palm is a Reese Cup.  
"Thank you," she takes it.  
He grins, "Predestined," and the other hand opens, "it was a two pack"  
"...sneaky - that was clever Sam. But unfortunately using that credit card a few towns back alerted the police to your presence. Better not stay long"  
Sam starts the vehicle, "Just once I would like to not be in a hurry, or in danger"  
"Future's not any better. Your electricity bills five years over due. You don't even want to know about the late charges. No, don't worry, we took care of that"  
"I refuse to live in fear. We're going to Burger King first," he backs up and leaves the gas station.

Sheriff Jenkins looks up.  
"Sir, we've repaired your battery cables. We're gonna take it around the block to be sure"  
"Son, you know that's against the law right"  
"Well, I"  
"I'm messing with you. Observe the posted limits and don't flash the lights"  
"Yes sir," starts to leave when Jenkins says something, "I'm sorry it took so long. We don't normally carry those special types of cables"  
"Just test the damn thing, will ya? Put your sorries in a sack," he rubs his forehead, "you have a phone with long distance in that place"  
"Only in the office, but no one's allowed behind the c"  
"Son, I am the police. Go."

We see Jenkins through the blinds of the office windows. He's tapping a pen angrily and sporadically.  
Now up closer to his face, "I don't know; he can't be far. He seems to be taking a certain path. My guess is that he'll pass through Tallahassee in the next day or two.  
No, and I keep wondering about that myself.  
Well, I don't know why he hasn't said anything about it to anyone. He definitely has me over a barrel, at least he didn't find out about ... well, I think he may try to blackmail me.  
Simple, I'll just kill him," he sees the reflection of lights across the ceiling and realizes the mechanic is back.  
"Any sign of him? He tried to use a credit card where? Well, that's only a couple hundred miles from here. If I punch it, I can catch him by night fall. He's got to stop and sleep sometime."

Sam calmly shifts into park and cuts the engine off.  
"You coming in Al?" he asks.  
"Nah, I gotta go check on a few things. You two go ahead. I should be back before you're done"  
"I'll think of you while I'm gone," says Catrina.  
"Well, that's sweet. ME too," he presses a few buttons and steps into the gateway. It shuts as they shut their doors.

Al steps out of the Imaging Chamber and closes the door. He turns around and sees Gushie.  
"Ah, don't scare me like that," holds his chest and wrinkles his nose and pinches it shut, "or stand that close"  
"Ah, Beth called. She wanted to know how late you'd be at 'The Office"  
"What did you tell her?" Al asks.  
"You weren't sure"  
"You told her that? Don't make her worry while she's at her mothers"  
"She also wanted to speak to your boss," Gushie raises his eyebrows, "Ziggy"  
"Well, I had to tell her the truth. Just not the correct one. I hate lying to her. What else did she say"  
"She recommended me to a good dental hygienist," puts his hands on his hips.  
"Sorry about that"  
"Sandra and Tina said hi and that they miss you. Nice kids Al"  
"Thanks. How's our pal in the Waiting Room"  
"Lucid and asking for you again"  
Sighs and comments to himself, "Everything but call my wife..."

The doors to the Waiting Room open. Michael looks up to see Al enter.  
"You promised you'd be back soon. That was a day ago," he says.  
"Well, I had some things I had to take care of. But I came back didn't I?" holds his hands out in gesture.  
"Why won't you let me leave"  
"I already told you"  
"Yes, that your friend 'Quantum Leaped' into my body. That was a nice story, but all my friends lately have told me 'Stories"  
"I didn't lie to you. This is a secret facility; you're lucky we let you out to go to the can. You're just gonna have to tolerate it for a little longer"  
"What about Catrina"  
"She is still doing fine. He's taking care of her"  
"I am her father," Michael reminds him.  
"Yes you are"  
"Then let me be with her. Let me leave," he sticks out his chin and says suasively.  
"You're seven years into the future"  
"Then she's still alive and she needs me"  
"You're not getting this - you ARE with her. He may have switched places with you, but that was in 1997. This is 2003; what ever he did, he's done and your back with your daughter now. She'd have two dads"  
"Then send me back to 1997"  
Raises his eyebrows, "You see the railing over where you were standing originally? Go take a look at your reflection. just go"  
Michael walks to the railing steadily and lowers his head for a glance. He pulls away momentarily startled. He regains his composure. The timid fades to lax.  
"Smoke and mirrors will not dissuade me"  
"Oh, it's you. You look like my friend, but he's got your reflection and sort of sharing your mind. Vice versa. Go ahead, give it a run"  
"If you can distort my image," he stares out blankly, "you can fabricate my reflection"  
Al checks his watch and refigures for the time zone Beth is in, "Beth," he sighs full of melancholy.  
"Beth"  
"Oh, she's the women that I love. Her and the kids are - kids! I have kids! I have two daughters. Sandra and Tina. Believe me, I know how you feel"  
Looks into Al's eyes in examination.  
"What? Have I got a little eye booger"  
"My image may be untrue, but I believe you to be veritable"  
"I don't know what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment. Thank you"  
"It's an adjective: being such truly or in fact; actual. There is a remarkable lexical idiom palate from which to choose; do not inhibit your vernacular to basic speech"  
"This isn't going to be an English class is it?" Al comments.  
"I try to enhance my daughter's knowledge, but she doesn't like to listen. Learning new things should not be frightening"  
"Yeah," it hurts him, "you ever read anything on Quantum Mechanics?" asks Al.  
"Just in passing in issues of Popular Science"  
"So, you wouldn't know anything about Quantum Theory"  
"Correct"  
"But I bet you the key to the door you do - and be honest about it. Scouts honor"  
"The theory that energy is not absorbed nor radiated continuously, but-" just then it strikes him, "how do I know this"  
"Because you're him and he's you"  
"Did you put this in my head"  
"Now, now," he raises his hand to take a puff from the cigar, but remembers half way up that they are not allowed in the Waiting Room for health reasons, "learning should never be frightening"  
Michael stands assuaged by the familiarity and ironicness of the situation, yet he stays mentally set in incertitude.  
He comments just audibly, "Am I being punished? Was I supposed to make peace with my neighbor and turn the other cheek"  
"You mean that fat pedophile, Larry? No, first off - this isn't heaven and secondly he should have been shot twice. The bastard got lucky and died"  
"Can you tell her I love her"  
"Sure, I can tell her. Now, keep thinking that - it's positive thinking. It's been nice chatting, but I got to go call my wife and check on your daughter and pee if I can find a spare moment."

Sam opens a door out from Burger King.  
"Ladies first"  
Catrina walks out with a Burger King, King Crown on, a box of food and a bag. More importantly, a smile from end to end.  
He opens the door after placing his drink on the roof. He pushes the automatic unlock for Catrina and sees Al looking at him. Catrina gets seated and buckles in.  
"You didn't even leave a window down for me," says Al.  
"I've had other things on my mind," he gets seated.  
"I'll say, you forgot your drink kemosabe," while Sam gets up and gets it, Al turns and sees Catrina.  
"Hey Al"  
"Hey Catrina," he double takes, "what happened to you? Gosh, will you look at that thing? I leave for half an hour and your crowned Queen"  
"Dad told them it was my birthday. I got lots of free stuff"  
"He did..." eyes Sam.  
"You should be glad you missed it. They all Sang to me, very poorly. Even dad"  
"Poorly?" asked Al.  
Sam shuts the door and puts the key in the ignition.  
Says with a hint of pride, "Like the Dean Martin of my time. I can confirm the Elvis has completely faded"  
Al looks at her. She mouths "Poorly.  
"Figured. Sam, we have to talk. Alone"  
A certain amount of worry sweeps across his face as he says, "Catrina, wait here and lock the doors. I have to talk to Al for a minute"  
"Can I have a piece of candy now"  
"Yeah, go ahead," he gets out and waits for her to lock the doors.  
Al blinks to another position a few feet away. Sam walks over.  
"This is bad news, isn't it?" he asks.  
"Very bad Sam. Ziggy finally got access to the police files"  
"And"  
"And she gets killed tonight"  
"How does it happen"  
"Well, they're not too specific, but Sheriff Jenkins files that there was a struggle between him and Catrina. She pulled a gun, so he reached for his weapon and fired first. Her history is still the same"  
"How can they justify shooting a 12 year old girl"  
"!0, 12, 80 - you have a gun and try to shoot somebody, especially an officer, you go to jail. Do not pass Go, don't collect 200 dollars"  
"At a seedy motel near the border"  
"Yeah, a Motel 8"  
"Well, then we'll go to another motel, close to Tallahassee"  
"Ah, histories changing, just a second,"he presses some buttons and reads, "same thing Sam, different motel"  
"Well, then we'll stop at a Hotel not far from here and just bunk down for the day"  
"Hold on, Ziggy's accessing the new history and bringing up the details. You know, I can't remember the last time we defraged Ziggy's memory banks"  
"Look at her Al - does someone like that deserve to die"  
Lowers the datalink in frustration, "No good Sam"  
"Kismet"  
"Kissme? Why Sam, I had no idea"  
"No, Kismet. Turkish for Fate. There's nothing I can do, but pick a spot and wait for destiny to arrive"  
"Sam, I wish I could be here to help, but you know I'm in the Imaging Chamber right now helping you on one of your first Leaps"  
"The song has been sung Al; the words are coming"  
"I'm worried about you Sam. This Michael guy is a real manic depressive. Don't do anything rash"  
Sam turns about and walks back to the Cherokee.  
"Sam?" 


	5. Chapter 5: Untitled

**Chapter 5: Untitled**

Al stands in a half-illuminated office, a couple levels above the quantum accelerator. His eyes are closed and he is holding a receiver to his left ear, with both hands.

"I love you too. I miss you so much. Well, I got to stay late tonight. Why? Remember my friend Sam I told you about? I'm helping him with a project and he just needs me to finish it on time.

Yeah. I wish you could meet him too. They don't make 'em like him anymore.

Tell the kids I love them."

Gushie starts to exit the Waiting Room, but stops to speak, "Sleep tight Mr. Devins. She's in good hands. If you need anymore bedding linen, just press the button by the door," he points, "goodnight," he shuts the door, leaving.

The neon lights dim a hazy blue and the sound of power lowers. Michael stands there for a moment as the brightness fades.

He walks over to the wall and presses a button. A large panel folds down into a bed. He sits and doesn't move.

The sky starts to darken and the orange illumination of the setting sun, begins to wan.

The Cherokee tepidly treks down the interstate toward its ultimate, unavoidable destination.

A tattered old billboard sign, lowly lit, grows bigger as the approach.

Many pieces were worn away by erosion, but Sam made it out, "Red Roof Inn," he utters as the Cherokee passes by the sign.

She yawns, "I'm tired dad."

"I think we should stop there for the night. I see the road veering off for the exit; do you want to cease out transverse? Bunk down for the evening? The vespers whisper."

She grumbles almost inaudibly as her mind goes into recess.

The Cherokee shifts balance as it rounds the acute exit turn. He slows it to a stop and looks both ways before crossing into what he saw were empty roads.

He takes his time accelerating and takes in the sight of land covered in an eerie, night coming blue.

"You did it Sam; you're over the state line. Not that it matters."

"Do I even inquire?"

Al shakes his head, "No, but," he stops and reads the datalink, "oh Sam – every cloud has a silver lining."

"Well, you just said…"

"It turns out the records were not completely accurate for some reason."

"So, she's not going to parish?"

"No, but she still gets shot. She's in a coma in the Tallahassee Memorial Healthcare Center," he pauses for a second; wondering if she would remember him after all these years of sleep.

"Al, did she die?"

A lamentable look looms over his face as he replies, "She never woke up. It says here that they believe she may never come to. You know, you could be doing something," he points the datalink at Sam, "instead of bringing her to the sharks!"

"You can't defy destiny Albert; it's meant to be."

"Well, if you think I'm gonna sit here while you wait for her to get shot, you … no. I'm not going to wait here, you're on your own pal," and with that the Imaging Door slams shut and the last of Al's yells wakes up Catrina.

She jumps a little and grabs for her surrounding; her left hand meeting this air.

"Dad?" she calls out. She looks to the back seat, "Was that Al?"

"It was, but he left."

"He didn't say bye."

"Yeah, well, he was too busy saying other things."

"Were you two fighting?"

"No. He was, but I wasn't. Let's not talk about it. Hotel is coming up anyway."

"The day is gone."

The lights in the Waiting Room sporadically flicker. Michael turns on the mattress, restlessly, muttering incoherently in his slumber, as if plagued by a nightmare. His breathing grows heavy.

Jenkins drives by a Weigh Station and sees a police car out front. He flashes his lights and siren three times on and off.

"This is Sheriff Jenkins of the Decatur County Police, unit at the Weigh Station, you copy?"

"Copy. Go ahead."

"You see a red Cherokee pass by in the last half hour?"

"You're on the interstate Sheriff, do you have any idea how many have gone by since my shift?"

"Yeah, you're a real smart guy, aren't you? Keep an eye on those trucks, do-"

"This is unit 332. I'm up about 15 minutes and I just saw a red one with out of state tags take the first Quincy Exit. Over."

"10-4, 332. Find that vehicle; check the hotels first. Once you find it, keep a distance. I've got this one."

"Around the back? Second floor?" asks Sam.

"Yes sir," says the hotel desk clerk.

"Thanks. Come on Catrina," he says after he passes the hotel lobby door – which she is holding open for him.

The clerk looks up as Sam presses the brake lights and starts off out of the lobby's acute u-turn style drive.

When the back of the SUV becomes visible by the inside lights, the clerk sees the bullet hole in the tailgate window.

"Man…" he picks up the phone and dials. The TV behind the counter, muted, plays news footage of security camera footage of the SUV.

Michael arises quickly from the bed. The blue lights glow half-watt and fill the room with a haze.

He gets up quickly. His chest is heaving in and out and tears stream down his face. He starts pacing casually back and forth. Again and again.

He wipes the tears from his eyes and continues at an increasing pace.

With each step, inaudible mumbles slip from his lips; not quite forming words, but rather blurbs from what he was thinking.

With each about step, the walls appear to come closer, faster.

"Sheriff Jenkins, please respond."

Grabs the CD sender and replies, "Jenkins," concisely.

"I've just got a report of the vehicle, proceeding to its location. Over."

"Keep your distance; don't spoke him."

"What's he wanted for?"

"Murder."

"Anybody in particular?"

"My friend."

Michael finally makes contact with the wall. His eyelashes are stick together and his eye like dams ready to burst. He places the temple of his forehead on the wall and weeps.

He hits the wall. Again. Again. Again. Harder with his fist.

He lifts his face off; his mouth is agape and his lower jaw trembling.

His eyes are so full of tears now, that he cannot see clearly, but does catch sight of the button Gushie pointed to.

He slams it with his palm. Again. Again … again…..

Sam opens Catrina's door.

"Catrina honey, what are you crying about?" he lowers down to face her.

"Dad," she says while tears fall off her face, "no. No! Don't let them know."

He hugs her.

"I don't want them to touch me," says. Her heavy heaving pounds against Sam's chest.

"My baby," he squints his eyes and feels the unset of tears hit him. "You have to see a doctor."

She shakes her head, "Don't, don't, don't, don't. Dad, he hurt me," she clutches to Sam tightly; unable to let go.

A rage fills within Sam. Building until his face turned red. It was like no other he had felt. At that moments he wanted to kill Larry. Kill him. KILL HIM!

Michael slams the button again; each time it sounds a short muted beep. The door opens and Gushie rushes in.

"Mr. Devins?" he calls out worriedly after seeing his face.

Michael cries out, "Al!"

Gushie runs from the room – not closing the door.

Like a white knight from a fairy tale long forgotten, Sam sweeps Catrina from the passenger seat. Even though she was heavy for a girl of 12, Sam felt stronger and carried her from the SUV, to the flight of stairs fro the second floor.

The motor of Jenkins' cruiser roars as he nears the exit.

"332, this is Jenkins. I'm about there – I want you on the other side of the hotel and waiting as my back up."

"You're aware you're out of your jurisdiction?" calls back 332.

"_Goddamn the jurisdiction!_" he slams the CD sender and breaks it's mount.

Sam gently sets Catrina on the bed. For a minute there is silence. He kneels there, uncomfortably and just holds her.

"Catrina, I love you. _I_ love you. So long as I am here, no one shall ever hurt you again. EVER.

I'll be back up. I'm locking the door," he takes a look at her standing with her hack facing him. And for that second, as his heart beat heavily and he looked at her … he contemplated not leaving. He shut the door.

"Bye," she whispers passively.

The officer in 332 closes his door as Jenkins races into the lot. He abruptly stopped in the driving lane and his door thrusts open.

He unbuttons his pistol's holster…

Michael slams the button again and again. Al runs in.

"What! You scared _the hell_ out of me, I thought you were having heart attack or something."

Michael shakes his head and tries to speak.

Al looks at his face and sees pain and sorrow, "Look, I know you love your daughter, but-"

Michael grabs Al – clenching his fingers into fists in Al's black Armani suit. Al, unsure of what to do, reciprocates, but not as tightly.

Michael is now flat out crying; staining Al's suit.

He cries out loudly, in anguish, "_NOOOOO!_"

"It's okay…" and for some reason, Al recalls the stories Sam told him last year of Beth remarrying and him – a prisoner of war longer than he had been so.

"_I hurt her!_"

"No, not you. It was that Larry bastard."

"_I was afraid!_"

"Afraid of what?"

Michael mouth open wide and his face scrunches up in anguish and horror – his chest violently spasms with cries of sorrow and pain, "_I saw him do it! I saw him!_ But I didn't stop him! I saw him, but _I didn't stop him!_ Catrina! Catrina! _Catrina! AAAGGGHHHHH!_" he cries uncontrollably and clutches Al tighter. His screams fill the room and echo down the corridors of Project Quantum Leap.

Jenkins signals for the officer to head toward the SUV, many rows back. Jenkins quickly, but quietly goes up the stairs.

Sam pushes himself up from resting on the passenger seat. He opens the glove box and presses the trunk release. The officer sees him.

Jenkins kicks the room's door again and again until the splintered door flies open. The last rays of sun evaporate in the room. The rays spread across Catrina's face and glow in her hair.

Al hears the datalink beep. He reaches down and looks at it – holding it away from Michael.

"100 percent? 100 percent! _Sam!_"

The lot lights kick on and slowly bloom to full illumination. The officer runs toward the SUV and Sam looks up and sees Jenkins enter the room.

Sam runs to the back and jets his hand down for the trunk handle. He accidently pushes it shut. In a furious panic, he reaches into his pocket for the trunk key and jams it into the lock.

Catrina turns to face the gun barrel of officer Jenkins. We hear no voices, but see him mouth "Stop", and her hands reach back up from her pants and righth and clutching something. The half-lit light from the lot shine off it.

The officer calls out for Sam to stop. Sam violently pushes the door up and pushes cases out onto the parking lot. He reaches for the suitcase and opens it for the small revolver.

Catrina raises the revolver to her head steadily and takes a deep breath.

Sam stops in shock – unsure of what he could now do.

"_FREEZE!_" yells the officer. Looking at what he knew to be a murderer.

Bam.

The revolver hits the floor and bounces a couple times.

Sam looks up – his heart stops and his mind seems to leave.

Catrina's body hits the floor.


	6. Chapter 6: Untitled

CHAPTER 6: Untitled

Suddenly, as if there had been a hard slap to the face, Sam comes to from the mental shock. He makes his way for the stairs.  
"I said freeze! Hands in the air!" calls officer 332.  
Sam points to him, "Then you're going to have to shoot me," he cries, "my daughter is up there!" he races off.  
The officer hesitates, then lowers his firearm and follows after Sam.

Sam runs into the room and stops dead in his tracks -- there, on the floor like a raggedy doll, was Catrina's lifeless body.  
Sam races down and feels her pulse. He tries again, but can't find it. He turns her limp body over and tries CPR -- despite the obvious shot to the head.  
Jenkins comes out from behind the hotel room door, gun drawn, "Well, well, well Michael. You're mine now"  
Sam looks up; his fists clench and turn red. He leaps up and lays into Jenkins with a hard right. Jenkins stumbles back, but throws a punch -- which misses. Sam slugs him again, this time splattering blood from Jenkins' nose into the wall.  
"I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!" Sam exclaims. He jets his hand down and they both struggle with the gun Catrina shot herself with.  
They violently grasp and pull. BAM! It goes off.  
Officer 332 runs into the room. He grabs Sam and pulls him away.  
"NO!" he yells angrily.  
"Stop resisting!" he presses hardly on a pressure point on Sam's left arm.  
"AGH"  
The officer forces him down to his knees.  
"You're only making it harder on yourself"  
Jenkins pulls an item from his belt as he approaches Sam. He bends down and pepper sprays Sam right in his open eyes. They lock shut and Sam yells out in agony.  
Officer 332 cuffs Sam and puts a knee to his back. He then reaches for his shoulder walkie-talkie.  
"Dispatch, this is 332 -- Code 47. We need immediate emergency personnel to the Red Roof Inn off Interstate 10. One victim, shot in the head. Over"  
"10-4, 332. Medical has been dispatched"  
Sam eyes, though watery and blurry, see Catrina's dead eyes and blood down her head.  
"You know CPR, sheriff?" asks 332.  
"I'm rusty," he says in a cocky tone.  
"You take the suspect -- I'll perform CPR and wait for medical to arrive"  
Jenkins licks his lips to moisten them and reaches down for Sam. 332 helps him up. Jenkins forces Sam toward the door; occasionally pushing.  
"You have the right to remain silent Michael; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. And you'll be seeing Judge Walters a lot sooner than you think..." they exit the room.

Officer 332 rushes to Catrina and positions her so he can start CPR. He examines the head wound and checks for a pulse which he doesn't find.  
"Come on, girl," he cups his hands and presses on her chest. He leans in and breathes air into her. Then he repeats the steps again. He checks for a pulse ... none. He pulls her shirt off and removes the stun gun from his belt. He puts in on the lowest setting, and very cautiously, and nervously, he touches her chest very quickly. Her muscles contract and her body flops. He checks for a pulse. He thinks he feels something, so he zaps her again. Her back arches and falls back down.  
"You can do it," he finds a faint pulse and quickly administers CPR before her heart stops again. As soon as he pulls his mouth away, she spasms and inhales deeply,  
"HUUUAAAHHH!" he eyes open.

As Jenkins leads Sam to his cruiser, he comments, "You've been a very, very naughty boy Mickey. I believe it's about time for you to be punished"  
"Tell me, how does it feel being a child murderer"  
"I think I can live with it," he says without remorse, "tell me -- how's that murdering part, you hypocritical cock sucker"  
"If I get free, I'm going to remove that smug look from your face, and break every bone in it. There's a special place in Hell for you," says Sam.  
Jenkins opens the driver's side back door and responds, "Yeah -- right next to you. But you'll get there first," he shoves Sam's head down and pushes him into the back seat. He reaches into a pocket and removes some antibacterial wipes. He cleans the blood from his nose and the trails going down his face.  
Sam rebukes, "Hopefully it's broken -- that way you don't have to smell your own filth"  
Jenkins pulls out the pepper spray and climbs into the back and sprays Sam again.  
Al presses a few buttons on the datalink, reads it, and then lowers it quickly. He tries to push Michael off him.  
"Look ... geez ... you're not a bad person. I don't know why you let that Larry bastard intimidate you, but he got what he deserved. And you saw to that. Justice has been served, in my book"  
"How can I live with myself? Will she ever forgive me"  
"Live with yourself? I'd live with ya, as well as many other people. You made the world a slightly better place. If I were you, I'd sleep with a big grin on my face each night. And I'm sure Catrina thanks you for that. She'll never forget," a tear comes to one of Al's eyes. Even though Catrina was not one of his daughters, he felt for her nonetheless.  
Michael finally lets go. Al doesn't leave just yet; still to angry at Sam, and unsure of what to do since it had been several minutes since Ziggy's "100 warning. He dare not tell Michael, who'd obviously been so emotionally overwhelmed, that he failed to register Al's comments minutes ago.  
"Albert"  
"Yeah"  
"I believe you."  
The cruiser travels on I10 back to Decatur County. Jenkins checks the rearview mirror to see what Sam is doing.  
"I don't think I've ever heard you so silent. What's the matter -- run out of big words"  
"I'm going to make sure everyone knows what you've done. You're going to have that cell with me -- and you might not wake up," says Sam.  
"I remember my second year as an officer. I pulled this fancy, shinny thing on four wheels over. I walked up to the window and there you were. Despite that we knew each other, you were still fidgety and worried. I can't believe I let you off that day. You were a pussy then, and you're a pussy now"  
"Things change"  
"I'll say. When you threw those sucker punches back there -- I thought for a second you had grown some manhood"  
"You may have 'manhood', but you have the mentality of a 12-year-old. You killed my daughter; I'm gonna take you manhood, then your life"  
"Keep threatening, Mikey -- it's all going to be used against you in court."

Jenkins shoves Michael into a jail cell. Another officer shuts it and locks it. Michael races to the front and thrusts his right arm out between two bars, grabbing Jenkins by his uniform.  
"Look at the girly, soft hands," he laughs.  
Sam tugs hard and bangs Jenkins's head against one of the vertical bars.  
"You son of a..." he reaches for his nightstick.  
"Agh, agh -- no beating on the prisoners Tommy," the bigger, muscle-bound jailor commands.  
Jenkins eyes the officer while feeling his head. He storms off.  
"If he tries that again Mike, you let me know. I just want to let you know we heard about what happened to your daughter. We're sorry. I remember seeing her two years ago in that school play"  
"Yeah..." Sam trails off.  
"She stood there and didn't sing her lines. Despite that, I'll be damned if she wasn't the best kid on stage"  
Sam cries and looks up.  
"Don't make waves -- half the station knew Larry. See ya. Later," he walks away after tapping one of the bars.

"I'm sorry"  
"For?" Sam asks in a 'tell me' tone, without turning to Al.  
"Everything. I still don't like what you did, but if I had just swallowed my anger and stayed, I might have been able to help her"  
"You're not the only one who has to apologize. Al -- I am sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's like I was a totally different person inside; inside me, I mean. More so"  
"And if you had been yourself, what would you have done"  
Looks away toward the wall, "I prefer not to think of that"  
"You had her best interest in mind, right? What's there not to think about?" asks Al.  
"Al, I reached for a gun. Not thought, but metal. You know how many times I've held a gun since I started leaping"  
"Well, I didn't exactly keep count, but maybe Ziggy"  
"One too many. Before this, all this, I only held a gun twice in my life: once when I bought it, and the second time when I thought someone was burglarizing my house"  
"Sometimes you just got to defend yourself, you know? I wouldn't exactly have fought the Vietnamese with words, you understand"  
"I don't like guns Al ... there what killed my brother Tom in the original timeline," he stands up and walks to the bars; he puts both hands around a couple and continues speaking, "and Catrina"  
"Technically, like I said, she's not dead -- she just never woke up from that coma"  
"She might as well be though, she's not going to get up and sing, call me dad, or hug me ever again"  
"She could come to one day. Never say never Sam"  
Sam looks out the bars in mental reflection.  
A door opens. There stands Sheriff Jenkins.  
"Good evening Judge Walters"  
"Eh ... forgive me, I'm usually good with names. Jenkins, right"  
"Yes sir"  
"You took out that bank robber who held my wife hostage, right"  
"May she rest in peace, sir"  
"What brings you to my home Mr. Jenkins"  
"Work related business, sir. I'm happy to report that I personally caught Michael Devins"  
"The shooter. Good. Ah, you did remember jurisdiction, right"  
"Oh, the report will read a fellow county black and white did the final apprehension"  
"Good," nods his head. "Oh, I'm sorry -- where are my manners? Come on in," he waves Jenkins in.  
"Nice home your honor," he walks in.  
"My wife used to say it was Victorian in style. I got to be honest -- I just liked it because of all the curves and dark colors. Well officer, tell me what you want"  
"I got to be honest with you, your honor -- I knew the man Michael Devins shot"  
"Sorry to hear that officer"  
"In fact, a number of us over at the station did. It would mean a lot to us if this trial could be expedited. You catch my drift, you honor"  
"That's quite a wind you got going"  
"Yes. While I was in pursuit of him, the evidence was gathered, and, ah, shinny Ronnie Learson is going to prosecute. We nearly have the case built. It's simple open and shut. There's nothing terribly complicated about killing a man and running"  
"Well, when you're done, file suit and I'm sure we can have this in court by Tuesday"  
"The faster, the better," Jenkins turns slightly, the says, "guess I should be go"  
"Mr. Jenkins, I want to again thank you for saving my wife's life. Those last years before she passed, they were -- I'll never forget them. I just wasn't ready to lose her yet"  
"You're welcome your honor. Larry was a good friend, you know"  
"Justice will be served, officer," Walters reassures.

Al paces around the cell while Sam lies back on the mattress.  
"There's got to be someway out of here Sam, I just haven't figured it out yet"  
"Al, why haven't I leaped? She's already comatose, and I'm jailed. What can I do now except be executed"  
"You tell me, you're the one controlling the leaps, remember"  
"Well, it must not be me this time. About a dozen times I've thought about leaping further back to prevent Larry from harming her, but I'm still here"  
"Well, whoever is in control must not like you; Ziggy says that less than a week from now you're going to be kentucky fried. Still a 99 chance"  
"Well-" Sam stops when he hears someone approach.  
"Devins," says the jailor.  
Sam lies up and replies, "Yes"  
"Have you got a lawyer yet?" he speaks in a softer tone.  
"No, but"  
"I have a friend whose brother works as one. Prosecuted a couple cases up in Atlanta"  
"I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I'm going to defend myself"  
"You sure about that? Do you have any legal training"  
"I was, ah, I knew a defense attorney once. He helped set an innocent woman free. I learned some things"  
"Well, if you change your mind ... I'd hate to see Sheriff Jenkins win. Never liked the guy"  
"Really"  
Looks around before continuing, "He transferred here after -- no ... he was kicked out of his previous post, his first year out. Then he came here, cause his daddy used to be chief. He always had it good. His dad died, but by that time Jenkins had gotten his stuff together and he just lingered here. After he saved Judge Walters wife seven years ago, we just couldn't get rid of him"  
"Did he do anything wrong?" asks Sam.  
"Nothing we could ever put our fingers on. I just get a bad vibe from him, and killing your daughter didn't make it any better"  
"I can't believe a grown, armed man would have reason to shoot a preteen girl. I think he murdered her, and out of spite"  
"I don't know if you killed Larry, but you seem like a good person to me, Mike. I'm sure you had a good reason"  
"Tell him the reason is outside the cell, and that if he lets you out, you'll go find it," comments Al.  
Sam stands up and walks to the cell bars, "Honesty ... I did"  
"Why Mike? Surely there must"  
"He was raping my daughter"  
"Legally, I never heard that, okay? And also off the record -- you did society a favor. Good luck to you," he walks away from the bars and then says in an authoritative tone, "Mr. Devins," and walks off.  
"Excellent, excellent Sam. Maybe this guy can help you out. He could be your ticket to freedom"  
"I didn't even ask his name. He seems to know me a little though"  
"What ever helps. I'm gonna go update Ziggy's memory banks with current laws, I mean, laws current in your time, 1997"  
"Al, can you do me a favor"  
"Sure Sam. Name it"  
"Go see Catrina, in Tallahassee. I know she's in a coma, but just check on her. Hold her hand, talk to her. Just let her know I haven't forgotten," he starts to cry.  
"After I program Ziggy, I'll catch the first flight out. I promise," he pushes some buttons and the doorway opens. He steps in, presses another, and the doorway shuts into thin air.  
Jenkins steps out of his beat-up cruiser. He walks up to the front door of Michael Devins' now empty home. He rips off yellow police warning banners and enters the house. He listens to make sure no one else was inside.  
The room is covered in a fine dusting material used to find finger prints. The air smelt stale and of that dusting powder. Jenkins walked ahead, and then turned left down a hall. He turns right and enters Devins' room.  
Jenkins removes a pair of latex gloves from a pocket, and puts them on. He then begins opening drawers on a dresser, throwing items within, onto the floor.  
He stops. He looks around the room again, as if something had gained his attention.  
"Someone has been here..."  
Sam lies back and tries to keep his mind preoccupied on something other than the empty cell and imminent demise. He then hears footsteps approach. He sits up. He sees the jailor standing there.  
"Mr. Devins"  
"Yes"  
"You have a visitor," he steps to the side.  
Sam stands up, wondering who in the world would be visiting him. In the briefest of seconds his mind hopes for Catrina. He sees the shadow loom closer. Suddenly, Sam is face to face with officer 332. 


	7. Chapter 7: Unexpected Turns

Chapter 7: "Unexpected Turns"

_CLANG!_ Sheriff Jenkins' baton hits one of the cell bars loudly. Sam jumps to his feet.

"Where is it Michael?"

"Where's what?" asks Sam.

"Don't mock me," he says furiously as his right hand, still clenching the baton, shakes.

"You're already mockery."

"You want to die today?" he warns seriously.

"It won't be me."

Jenkins puts a key in the lock and opens the cell.

"Jailor!" Sam calls out.

"Out to lunch…" Jenkins holds the baton in a defensive manner and reaches for the pepper spray.

"I'll defend myself if necessary."

"You won't have a chance. I'll ask one more time: where is it? And who took it?"

Sam stands impavidly and responds, "Up your nose with a rubber hose."

Jenkins swings back the baton and is about to bring it slamming into Sam when it stops dead. Jenkins turns his head quickly around.

"Short lunch," the stronger, upper-body jailor twists Jenkins' arm until Jenkins drops the baton. Jenkins drops the pepper spray and grabs at his arm.

"I'll forget about this incident, but in return – I don't want to ever see you back at his cell. Are we clear?"

Grinds his teeth, "Yes! Now, goddamnit let go!"

The jailor releases Jenkins and he falls. He rubs his sore muscles and then picks up his baton and bottle of pepper spray. He puts both back and stand up. He walks out of the cell and points.

"You're going to the chair Michael," and with that he pulls his keys out of the door and leaves.

"You okay?" asks the Jailor.

"Yes, fortunately you came before he administered any of those blows. Thank you."

"Well, he's not going to have a chance to try that again. Me and him both work the same hours and for now on I'm packing my lunch," he walks out and pulls the sliding jail cell bared door shut with ease and no hurry; not even once did he think Sam would run.

"Wait – I never asked your name."

"Don't you remember?"

"No, I'm sorry – my mind isn't what it used to be. I'm sure it's on the tip of my tongue."

"Robert Bital."

Sam tries his best to surf through the mental fragments of Michael Devins' mind before shaking his head, "I'm, I'm sor-"

"I pulled your wife from the wreck three years ago. Gracie Devins."

"As if the situation wasn't emotionally devastating enough, Sam recalls the visuals, and his love – Michael's love – for her, and cries.

Al stands adorned in dark colors in a hall of the Tallahassee Memorial Healthcare Center. He covers his mouth with his left hand as tears roll down his face.

Doctors, nurses and patients occasionally walked by and brief low-volume pages were made.

There, through the thin, vertical, rectangular window pane in the door, Al watched Michael hold his daughter and cry out in anguish.

Al removes the hand and pulls out his cell phone. He dials. It rings.

"Is Beth there?"

Jenkins exits a small restaurant and walks to it's building's corner, still sipping a cup of coffee.

"You there?" he asks while his cup is over his mouth.

"You know it," the mystery man replies. We don't see his face, but a part of his clothing sticking out from around the corner.

"I think our new guest is lonely. Perhaps he needs some company," says Jenkins.

"Few slaps, or-"

"Preferably something big, strong, and deadly. Heavy on the deadly."

"I think I know just the suspect. Any word on it?"

"I looked; someone took it."

"What about the other city? Did they search his truck?"

"They have to view it. If they had found it, I'd be jailed now. Someone got it for Michael. Possibly the jailor. He's gonna need to be taught a lesson too."

"Well, you want me to-"

"No, well deal with him later. If push comes to shove, don't worry – your name will never be spoken,"

"Same around."

"Well, I've stood here too long. Later."

"Later."

Jenkins walks toward the imaginary camera and sips the last of the coffee. He tosses the paper cup.

The sun sets.

It's dark. Sam sees the back of Catrina. He calls out to her, but no words leave his mouth.

"Daddy," he sees her say and then raise the gun to her head.

"You were too late."

He jumps at her as she pulls the trigger.

BAM!

Clink, clink, clink. Like a quickly thrown dark, Sam jumps to his feet from his sleep.

An elderly man sitting on a chair across from Sam's cell bars speaks, "I thought you'd never wake."

Later that day. Sam lies back, thinking. He seemed more tense, yet somehow a bit more at ease. Al steps out of the gateway.

"How is she?"

"Oh Sam … she's got feeding tubes and heart monitors, and … I don't want to ever see any of my girls like that."

"Are they caring for her?"

"Well, she was clean and had fresh cloths. And there was some flowers by the bed. This Michael guy you leaped into must really love her Sam. Nurses say the flowers are dropped by a few times each month.

"Good."

"So, how's the hail house rock?"

"I've had an interesting couple of days."

"You're telling me – according to Ziggy, you're chance of dying went up, went down and then up again. Says it's now at 88. You're a busy guy for a man in a 1o by 12."

"Al."

"Yeah?"

"If I did something, even if I knew it was wrong, and it benefited Catrina … would you think any less of me?" says Sam.

"No," removes the cigar from his mouth, "no. I trust you in doing what's best for her. I believe in you making the right decision. I wouldn't think any less of you – not for a second. Does that help?"

Looking down, Sam says, "You have no idea."

"Well, I'll tell you what I do know: you've set a world record for the longest time in one leap. Ziggy doesn't think it's a glitch, so much as there must be something else you've not done yet. I guess we can rule out the frying in the chair part. I guess you just have to set yourself free."

"Hopefully this will be the last of my extended leaps."

"It's gonna have to be Sam – Beth is going to be home in a few days and I'm running out of excuses. I don't want to lie to her anymore," Al sighs while walking around, "so, what was so interesting?" he taps the datalink against the side of his leg.

A few hours later. Sam is exercising in his cell. After doing a few push-ups, he gets up and take some deep breaths. Once his breathing calmed, he moves slowly and in graceful movements. It had been a long, long while since Sam had been able to practice the art of Tai Chi.

Unfortunately, to Sam's displeasure, it did not stop or hinder the thoughts and emotions bouncing around his brain.

He stepped and kicked the mattress. He sees a shadow approach. He straightens up and waits. The jailor comes into view, with a hand-cuffed suspect. He unlocks the door and the suspect walks in.

"Mr. Devins, this is your new cellmate. I tried to keep you alone, but we're a little crowded. When I remove these cuffs you are to stay where you are and not move your arms either, until I close and lock this cell. Understand?"

The man grunts.

Robert removes the cuffs and backs off. The suspect stares deadly into Sam's eyes. The door slides shut and Robert looks up.

Robert eyes the suspect, then looks over at Sam, "Holler if you need me," he walks away after locking the door.

The muscle-bound man, with a big upper body, walks over and sits on the mattress across from Sams'.

We hear Sam's voice as he looks at the prisoner: "He's just a person. He was a kid once, and someone likely loved him."

The prisoner squints his eyes menacingly and responds with threatening tone, "What the hell are you looking at?"

"Sorry. My mind just wondered. Plus – there's really not many other places to look at."

"Then look at the can, but don't," he warns, "look at me."

Sam looks out the bars.

"My name is Sa … Michael. What's your name?"

"Listen to me you piece of cock-sucking shit, don't you speak. You're my bitch. When the dinner trays come around, you give me half yours' or else."

"I won't partake in bully tactics. You eat what they give you. If I have anything left, I'll be happy to share it with you," and before he can continue, the suspect had risen to his feet and was clenching his fists so tight that Sam thought they would bleed. He stands as well.

"I'm gonna tell you one last goddamn time: you're my _bitch_," he annunciates slowly.

"So, I guess this means we're not going to be friends, huh?"

The suspect reaches into the back of his pants and as quick as a bolt flicks a switch blade. The light from the florescent bulbs atop the cell ceiling shin upon the sharp blade as it comes to a hold at a deadly fighting angle.

"You can be friends with this. Up close and personal like."

"You don't want to do this…" Sam takes a defensive posture.

The man lunges at Sam, thrusting the blade forward. Sam steps to the side and leans – missing the cut.

The man comes forward quickly again, slicing the blade across. Sam steps back to avoid the wound to the belly.

The man shoots his arm out again to Sam's head. Sam avoids it instantly – like a well-trained fighter – and grabs the man's forearm. He twists it hard. The prisoner reaches with the free hand and Sam catches it with his other. He twists that one as well. The man drops the knife from the pain in his arms. He grinds his teeth. Sam lets go and backs off. He stands to a side and puts his hands in fists.

The man charges at Sam. Sam leans in, grabs the man's left arm with his right and uses his left to propel the man over Michael's own back. He lets go of the arm he had been pulling and the prisoner hits the mattress – upside down.

The prisoner falls off and clumsily staggers back up.

"I know Tae Kwan Do. Stop now," Sam put it simply, but in reality Sam was well versed in many forms of karate.

Sam notices the prisoner was once again brandishing the weapon. He steps easingly toward Sam, inhales deeply and in a hovering fighting stance he raises the knife and is about to plunge it into Sam when Sam suddenly does a round-house kick. The impact to the man's head is hard and sends him up into the air. He smacks the wall and hits the mattress limp. Running footsteps are heard coming down the hall after the ruckus.

Robert comes racing in. He sees Sam breathing heavily and the suspect out cold.

"What happened?"

"Nothing much. My cellmate here decided to take a nap," Sam reaches down and picks up the switchblade. He hands it through the bars to the jailor, "Doesn't anyone search the suspects?"

"I do. Someone must have slipped it to him when I wasn't looking."

"I don't think the sheriff likes me very much," Sam says with a bit of sarcasm.

"He didn't bring him in. And he was on break. It's gonna be hard to pin this on him. Look, if he comes to, yell for me. I'm gonna go find him another cellmate. Be back," and with that Robert walks off at a quick pace.

Sam once again clams his breathing down. But it was much worse than that, as for a moment during the fight, Sam momentarily forgot who he was. This worried him.

The doorway appears and Al steps out. He presses some buttons and it shuts.

"So, how's the slam treatin' ya?"

"'Slam'?"

"You know, slang, " Al sees Sam look at him. "That's the last time I ever try to be hip."

"Well, besides the part where the sheriff tried to have me murdered, it's just fine."

"Murder? Who?"

Sam points, "Sleeping beauty over there."

"Oh – geez! Look at that beastly thing…"

"I don't know what happened, but for the last day I've been feeling like myself again. I wonder why that is."

Al doesn't answer, deciding not to tell Sam he broke one of Sam's own rules of Project Quantum Leap.

Before either of them can speak, the jailor steps in front and starts to open the cell. Another police officer stands beside him.

"Mr. Devins, please rise. Officer Dolton here will handcuff you and you will be escorted from your cell."

"Where is he taking me?"

"You will appear before a local magistrate for your initial hearing:

"Sam, report back everything to me. Ziggy is almost done compiling Georgia law. I'm gonna go check and see how it is going. I'll be back."

Al watches Sam turn around and be handcuffed. Al shakes his head sadly and vanishes when the doorway shuts.

Sam stands with his hands cuffed behind his back. The judge reads some papers and them puts them down.

"Mr. Devins, are you aware of the charges being brought against you?"

"Yes, your honor."

The judge raises his eyebrows then eyes a paper, "I see from your financial papers here that you are not indigent; have you secured an attorney?"

"I will be representing myself, your honor."

"Mr. Devins – murder in the first degree is a capital offense punishable by death. I strongly suggest seeking out legal representation."

"It's all right, your honor, I'm versed in Georgia law."

"Very well. Have you received your phone call?"

"At the present time, your honor, I have n one to call," Sam replies.

"Keep in mind that since you represent yourself, you are entitled to phone privileges. Mr. Learson, do you have anything to add?"

"No, your honor," replies Learson.

"Very well. Custody is retained to the Decatur County Sheriff's Department. Bail is denied," he then slams the gabble down.

Sam lies on his back on the mattress in his now empty cell. He stares at the ceiling. He sees the light from the imaging chamber door in the corner of his right eye.

"Hey Sam – how'd it go today?"

"Quickly. I don't think I was there for more than ten minutes."

"Well, you must have been one hell of a charmer; Ziggy now shows a 48 chance of you meeting your maker. Again. And don't even ask why you haven't leaped, neither of us know."

"My preliminary hearing is tomorrow. A few days after that will be my Arraignment. Trial is not too far away."

"Don't worry about that – just consider me your cousin Vinney. So, any word from that officer … ah, Eastmen?"

"Eastman. No, no word yet."

"As long as that Jenkins creep gets what he deserves. You need to start putting together a defense…"

"He will…" Sam says in a low voice.

Jenkins pulls his cruiser into a parallel parking space at the curb. He puts the unit into park and rolls down the passenger window. A few seconds later, the torso of a man on a bike appears. We do not see the face. Jenkins speaks.

"You heard?" he shifts his eyes around to see if anyone was watching.

"You didn't tell me you arrested the karate kid," said the man on the bike.

"Where he learned to do that, I don't know. I certainly would have told you."

"If he gets into too much trouble, he may attempt to save his skin."

"He won't. I called in an old favor. He'll see the daylight soon enough," replies Jenkins on the prisoner.

"And what about the-"

"Must have not been able to pull anything from it; must be damaged. I'd be jailed by now for sure."

"Try again? Maybe a sniper, or-"

"No. Trial is next week. It's not safe for us to meet again. You lie low and we'll get together after the trial, when things have cooled off. I got to complete my patrol now," says Jenkins.

"Tom."

Jenkins nods his head and rolls up the window. He starts the unit and pulls out. We see the back of the man he was speaking to, peddle away.

Several days have passed. The entrance door to the Imaging Chamber slides open. Al steps out and presses a button on a control panel just to the left. The door shuts.

Gushie walks up to Al.

"So, what happened?"

"He's still representing himself."

"Tell him we're rooting for him," says Gushie.

"I will."

"Ziggy is done processing the judicial databanks and is ready whenever Sam is."

"That's great," puts the datalink onto a surface top and the lights light up and the unit begins recharging.

"Ah, Mr. Devins asked to see you."

Al lets out a bit of a perturbed sigh.

"Oh, that poor guy," rubs his chin and thinks for a second, "look – I'm gonna go talk to him, no one come in,"

Gushie shakes hi head in acknowledgement and watches Al leave toward an elevator door.

The doors open to the Waiting Room. The lights are lowly lit and Michael is sitting on the floor, on the opposite side of the bed. Al walks over. He bends down into his haunches and puts his right hand on Michael's left shoulder. Michael is crying and covering his eyes.

"I don't have words to make you feel better. I've felt pain, horrible emotional pain, but I can't fathom what you're going through. Fathom – like that? I look your advice and just started going through the dictionary last night. I started with "F" because … well .. I-"

"Kill me."

"I'm sorry, did you just say _'Kill me'_?"

Almost pulls his hair out, "Make me null of being and put my body where not even the dead can be of despite."

"I can't do that."

"Please Albert – I have nothing."

"You have a little girl who loves you. Speaking as a guy who has three of them, that's a powerful thing."

"I have what? Assuming I'm not executed by the state, I have to live the rest of my life knowing I stood by and did nothing while my little girl cried out for me. I can't live with that! Do you have any idea how hard that is? To hear that every time I lie down … she'll never wake up because of me."

"She might."

"Name one – one instance."

"Al bites his lower lip.

"You're in my friend's body, I can't kill you."

"I'll do it myself. When I leap back … you can't stop me then."

"Don't do that to her. Please," Al pleads.

Michael pulls at his hair again and in a conniptionous rage, spasms about; slapping the floor with his feet.

"I want to die!" tears roll down his face.

The jury looks at each other and whispers loudly; the courtroom does the same.

Sam stands there crying, out of focus and in a daze.

"I'm sorry son, that's not going to do. I asked you, how do you plead?" asks Judge Walters.

"Guilty."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: "Justice"

PAST.

Officer 332 zaps Catrina again. Her back arches and falls back down.

"You can do it," he finds a faint pulse and quickly administers CPR before her heart stops again. As son as he pulls his mouth away, she spasm and inhales deeply, "_HUUUAAAHHH!_" and her eyes open wide.

She reaches around randomly.

"It's okay, don't move."

She coughs and shakes like she's cold. 332 takes some sheets off the nearby bed and wraps them around her. Her head falls limp and she closes her eyes.

"Don't go to sleep – help is almost here. Sweety, don't go to sleep. Talk to me. What's you name?"

He holds a rag against her head and tries to stop the bleeding.

"I'm not sure," she replies.

"Everyone has a name. But your can't remember if you go to sleep."

"I'm tired. Just need to rest my eyes…" she trails off in speech.

332 almost cries; children in hi line of work, always get to him. He speaks, "I think I heard the other officer call your father Michael."

Her head just sort of bobbles around and her lips move, like she was babbling, but no words came out. Her eyes open. The hairs on her skin stand up.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Aaron."

His walkie-talkie sounds, "332, this is dispatch – emergency medical is only a couple minutes away. Over."

"10-4," into his shoulder communicator.

"Aaron, please … please help me, please … I need to tell your something…"

PRESENT.

A gasp is heard in the courtroom.

"I'm guilty of being a bad father. I'm guilty of not being there for her when I should have. And finally, worst of all, I'm guilty of being me.

I'm guilty of a lot of things, but not murder. That I plead innocent of."

"Let's only hope the facts show that, Mr. Devins. And that the grand jury agrees with said facts. You may be seated," and with the judges command, everyone in the courtroom sits. Learson fiddles with his tie.

Sam looks around for Al.

"Mr. Learson, you may begin," says Judge Walters.

Learson stands up and walks into the middle section between the desk and tables, "Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the grand jury, the state intends to prove that on June 6, 1997, Michael Devins shot and subsequently killed Larrold Tolland. This is a basic open and shut – hopefully all you nice folks will be home in time for diner."

Everyone smiles.

"That's all," he reseats himself.

"Mr. Devins, your turn," says the judge.

"Yes, sir," he stands and approaches the section.

Walters has a little bit of a smile, "It's 'your honor'; 'sir' just makes me sound older."

"I'm sorry. Your honor, people of the jury – I'm innocent," his left hand fingers fiddle randomly, briefly, "at this time, all the evidence is not here, but I have an officer working hard to bring it on."

"This isn't TV son; evidence must be approved before inclusion, and the prosecution must see it if they so choose."

"That won't be necessary, your honor," Learson goes back to flipping through papers.

"Evidence approved. Are you finished with your opening statement?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Mr. Learson, present your case."

"Thank you, your honor. The state presents Exhibit A; these are photos of finger prints lifted from Larrold Tolland. A quick search into the database shows they are a match for Mr. Devins. Can everyone see this?" he walks across the jury with an enlarged photo in hand.

Sam gives up looking for Al.

Learson puts the photo on a desk and picks up another one, "the state enters Exhibit B: a photograph of tire tracks laid on Mr. Devins' driveway. They are an identical match to the tire patterns and wear on his vehicle. Exhibit C is in that VCR there. It shows our rather unremorseful defendant pumping gas and buying candy. Perhaps for a party later on?" looks at the jury.

"Your honor!" Sam stands.

Walters whacks the gabble, "The Prosecution will reframe from conjecturing on the Defendant's eating habits. I mean, _really_ Mr. Learson," he says with a bit of humor in his voice.

"I withdraw that statement. Instead I present Exhibit D: the bullet pulled from Larrold Tolland. And for Exhibit E: the bullet pulled from Catrina Devins. Ballistics test showed both bullets came from the same weapon, Exhibit F: a Glock 21. The state would like to call it's first witness: Rose Gentworth."

The courtroom doors open and Miss Gentworth comes strolling in. the old lady makes her way up the steps to the witness stand and sits.

The bailiff comes over. She places her hand on the bible.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

"So help me."

"Good morning, Miss Gentworth."

"Well, good morning to you too, sonny."

"Miss Gentworth, can you tell me who this is in this photo?" holds one up.

She squints, then removes her glasses, "That's Larry. Him and Devins been friends for years. Well, were until he _shot_ him."

"Just to make sure, Larrold Tollman, correct?"

"Yup. He used to steal candy out of the old Parson's confectionary," he shakes her head, "a face only a mother could love."

There are some chuckles and even Judge Walters smiles with a hand holding his head up.

"Can you tell me what happened that morning?"

"Well, I heard some screaming earlier, but I thought it was just Larry and Michael playing with Catrina. Then about, oh, five or so minutes later I hear some yells and then a gunshot."

"And after that?"

"I ran out to see what the commotion was and a minute later Michael and Catrina come running out. He didn't say anything to me, just got in his Cherokee and too koff."

"And that was it?"

"Well, a couple minutes later Tom-"

"I'm sorry. Thomas Jenkins?"

"Ah huh. He comes running from out of the house asking me which way they went."

"That was a quick response."

"Tom only lives a block away. Could run here lickety-split."

"And Mr. Devins is present today?"

"Yup," she looks out and takes her glasses off, then points to Sam.

"Let the record show Miss Gentworth pointed to the Defendant. Thank you Rose, that will be all."

"Oh, you're welcome. You know, I don't really care what happens about Larry, but letting his daughter carry that gun, that's unforgivable."

She's about to leave the stand when Sam stands up.

"I'd like to cross examine the witness."

"You may proceed," says Walters. Learson sits.

Sam walks up. Gentworth and she takes her glasses off and eyes Sam evilly.

"Miss Gentworth."

"Yeah?"

"You say you saw my daughter and I exit the house?"

"Yes."

"But your vision isn't perfect, is it?"

"Oh, I see – I'm an old lady; might as well pick on her vision," she looks at the jury, "like we haven't seen that done a hundred times in the movies," with heavy sarcasm.

"Miss Gentworth, it's not your vision I call into question, but rather your memory. Can you point out Sheriff Jenkins?"

She looks, then reaches to put her glasses on.

"With your glasses off, please."

"I can't."

"You've known him for years though, as I understand."

"Right."

"Let the record show she failed to point out the sheriff. Miss Gentworth, what were you doing that morning before you ran out?"

"Reading."

"And you just ran out?"

"Yes."

"And you took your glasses off and placed them next to the book, out of habbit, right?"

"Ye…" trials off.

"You suffer from Presbyopia, don't you?"

"Well…"

"A _yes_ or _no_ will suffice."

"Yes."

"Hold up – for the record, Mr. Devins, Presbyopia is?" asks Judge Walters.

"Hypermetrophia; farsightedness," turns to her, "you have to wear those to see objects up close, correct?"

"Yes."

"Yet you say you saw me. With the day light and age – it would have taken you a couple minutes to adjust, right?"

Reluctantly, "Perhaps."

"That's a _yes_, right?"

"Objection, your honor; there's a mountain of evidence to show Mr. Devins and his daughter used the vehicle. What purpose does this testimony serve?"

"Sustained. I'm sure you're going somewhere with this, right Mr. Devins?"

"Yes, your honor; I'm not calling into question we used the Cherokee, in fact, I fully admit it. This will be clear later. I have no further questions for the witness."

"You can step down, Rose," says Walters.

"Thank you," she leaves.

Learson gets back up as Sam sits down.

"The state would like to call it's next witness, Mr. Buford Tentavinn."

Buford enters and seats himself; he is sworn in.

"Now, you own the Circle K off exit 8, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Did Mr. Devins here patronize your establishment?"

"Do what now?"

"Did you ever see him there?"

"Oh yeah, I tell ya, strange things are a foot at the Circle K. The walls aren't very voice proof and I heard him talking to himself in the bathroom."

"That's nice. How'd Mr. Devins seem in character?"

"Apart from talking to his weiner?"

"Yes."

"Angry."

"How so?" asks Learson.

"He done grabbed me and smacked me against the wall, then he threatened me. I near wet myself."

"Did you believe your life to be in danger?"

"Hell yeah."

Judge Walters whacks the gabble, "The Witness shall reframe from using obscenities in the courtroom."

"You mean naughty words?" asks Buford.

"Yes," replies Walters.

"Okay."

"And they were in a Jeep Cherokee?" continues Learson.

"Uh ha."

"Thank you, that'll be all."

"And he touched me without washing his hands, and-"

"Step down," orders Walters.

"The state would now like to call Carl Weill."

Carl comes in, sits, and is sworn in.

"Mr. Weill, did Mr. Devins rent a room at your motel, Best Western?"

"He did."

"And what was your impression of him?"

"He acted sort of funny, like he was hiding something."

"Thank you, that will-"

"Your honor, if I may?" asks Sam.

Walters motions with his left hand.

"Mr. Weill, did you happen to see the car I was driving?"

"Why yes. It was sort of an SUV, not so much a car."

"Was there anything unusual about it?" asks Sam.

"Oh yeah. There was a bullet hole in the rear window."

"Let me state for the record that the CSI team report noted the bullet hole. There was quite a scene the next morning, right?"

"Yeah, Tom done shot up the place."

"Was he after me?"

"With a fury," raises his eyebrows.

"Thank you very much, you can step down."

Before Sam can leave, Learson stands up.

"No so fast – the state calls Michael J. Devins to the stand," says Learson.

Sam, with no surprise, eases steadily into the witness stand seat.

"Mr. Devins, how long have known Larrold Tolland?"

"Ah, well…" draws a blank when he suddenly sees Al appear. Al looks around for a second, then waves to Sam.

"Can you repeat the question?"

"I'm sorry, let me try it louder: about what number of years have you been acquainted with Larry?"

"Let me think…" says Sam as Al presses some buttons on the datalink.

"Maybe an estimate," Learson rotates his right hand.

"Little over ten, Sam."

"About a decade."

"A decade. And you've always been good friends?"

"Not always."

"How would you characterize your friendship the last couple weeks before his untimely death?"

"Non-existent."

"So, you two were having one of your _downs_ of friendship?"

"Not quite."

"So the friendship was over? Did it end badly?"

"Yes."

"And what caused this?"

"He was raping my daughter."

There are gasps from the courtroom and ladies in the jury over their mouths.

"I have no further questions," says Learson.

Sam leaves and sits at his desk.

"Well," Learson looks at he jury, "we have a motive, opportunity, the bullets, and he ran. Ladies and gentlemen – this is your chance to not let another _O.J._ get off. Thank you. The state rests."

"Mr. Devins, this would be your time," says Walters.

"Ask for a recess," Al tells Sam.

"Your honor, I'd like to request a short break."

"Purpose?"

"To check up on that incoming evidence, and … ah … use the men's room."

"Seconded; 15 minute recess," whacks the gabble.

Sam walks out the courtroom. He goes up to a bailiff.

"Excuse me, is there a private phone around here?"

"Down that way, to the left. There's a payphone and it's usually quiet down that hall."

"Thanks," he heads that way. An officer keeps a distance from him.

Sam walks over to the hall, then down it. He looks behind him, then back ahead.

"What is it?" he asks.

"We got a problem," says Al.

"As if I didn't have enough of those."

"Michael's gonna off himself as soon as he leaps back."

Sam closes his eyes as he holds the receiver. He exhales.

"Look – I don't care what you gotta do; yell, cream, jump up and down like a monkey – you know how – just make sure you get yourself institutionalized for a while. Once the he leaps back, they'll see how crazy he is."

"Great," Sam says as he dials, "more lies."


	9. Chapter 9

Final Chapter, 9: "If At First You Don't Succeed…"

"All rise. Court is now in session. Honorable Judge Joseph Walters presiding," the bailiff watches Walters enter from his chambers and seat himself, then speaks, "you may all be seated."

Sam sits. He half glances, then look again and sees Al hovering in the air in a sitting position.

"What? My legs are tired. Hope you don't mind, I'm using your office chair."

"Mr. Devins, your defense," says Walters.

Sam stands up. Unlike the last courtroom he stood in, this one was air conditioned and therefore didn't require a wipe-down rag to pay himself dry. Unfortunately, this robbed him of a chance to ease in and present in a calmly manner.

"I would like to call Sheriff Thomas Jenkins to the stand."

There is some murmuring amongst the courtroom crowd.

Jenkins walks passed Sam – eying him – and to the stand. The bailiff approaches with a bible.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"Yes."

"You may be seated."

Jenkins sits.

"You don't like me very much?" asks Sam.

"Objection, you honor. Matter of personal opinion," comments Learson.

"Sustained. Relevance?" Walters asks Sam.

"Oh no, that's okay your honor. I'll state for the record my discontempt for this filthy weasel," says Jenkins.

"We used to be friends, did we not?" asks Sam.

"About twenty years ago, when I didn't know any better."

"Fact of the matter is this hatred drove you to pursue me across counties and into another state, and even shoot out my back windshield."

"You were fleeing."

"And what about my daughter, was she _'fleeing'_?"

"Objection! He's badgering!" yells Learson.

"Sustained," whacks the gabble, "tread carefully Mr. Devins."

"You were also friends with the victim, were you not?" asks Sam without loosing the pace.

"Yes," squirms in his seat a bit, "I was."

Sam stops. He touches his lips with a finger, in thought.

The courtroom doors open and officer 332 enters with a small box and paper in hand. He shakes his head to Devins.

Jenkins lowers his head and face and the ceiling lights cast shadows over his eyes. The smirk disappears from his face.

Sam removes the finger.

"Sheriff Jenkins ….. did you happen to notice the gun beside my daughter?"

"Yes, a Glock 21. It's a good arm."

"That's all."

Jenkins leaves the stand.

"I call Lieutenant Darren Mossten to the stand."

An officer sitting in the court stands and approaches; he is sworn in.

"Can you state your position?"

"I ran ballistics on this case."

"Can you state for the record again, what type bullet and gun killed the victim?"

"A .21 from a Glock."

"And my daughter?"

"The same. Fired from the same gun."

"Did anyone check the serial numbers on the weapon?"

"Well," scratches his hairline, "they were entered into a report – standard procedure."

"Let me rephrase: did anyone run a check to see whom the owner was?" asks Sam sternly.

"No."

"Officer Eastman," signals for him. 332 comes over and removes a paper. "his is a copy of ownership transfer of the very .21 Glock in question, from Harris Jenkins senior to his son, Thomas Jenkins," hands it to the judge.

Sam holds some more papers and places the small box on Judge Walters' desk, "Officer Aaron Eastman attempted to resuscitate my daughter."

332 continues after Sam looks at him, "After the sheriff left I preformed CPR on Catrina Devins. A minute or so later she awoke. It was after this she informed me Larrold Tolland had been raping her."

"Objection!" shouts Learson.

"Too late Mr. Learson, you waved the evidence on it. This is the bed you've made," says Walters.

332 continues, "He had been taking pictures," hands some to the judge. Sam gives some to the jury. "But Larrold Tolland wasn't exactly internet squvy, so he gave them to an unknown assailant."

Sam turns to the judge, "What you have on your desk in the hard drive from Sheriff Jenkins' computer, which I procured a while back. Along with my daughter, Jenkins hosted a child pornography site and intimidated the parents and children of various witnesses over the years."

Jenkins shots up, glaring and ready ti explode. His hands turns read from fists.

Sam continues, "I submit to you that the victim, Larrold Tolland, was going to roll over on Jenkins. When Jenkins found out, he shot him dead. Then he chased us, tried to kill me, then killed my daughter to keep his crime a secret."

Loud gasps come from the room.

PAST. DAYS AGO.

"I thought you'd never wake."

Sam sees an old man sitting in a chair across from his cell bars.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? Son, haven't you ever read the papers?"

"Sorry."

"Joseph Walters. Ringing any bells?"

"Judge Walter."

"Accept no substitutions. Don't worry, officer Bital let me in the back way. No one knows we're speaking."

"You come to rub the chair in my face too?"

"A day ago, that would have been my position. You did kill Larry Tolland."

"He raped my daughter. More than once."

"I know."

"How?"

"I just got threw speaking to Aaron Eastman a couple hours ago. Officer 332 who assisted Sheriff Jenkins in your capture."

"He came and saw me too. You understand, don't you?"

There is a moment of quiet, then Walters speaks in reply, "I've been doing this for over 30 years now Mr. Devins," he sighs heavily, "and all those years I can't recall a line this blurred. I hate to say such a thing, such an unkind thing about a fellow man, but thinking about it, I couldn't see any reason for a man of his type to live amongst us. Now, I'm not saying what you did was right – or excusable – but I'm not exactly complaining either."

Sam starts to shed tears.

Walters continues, "And his days as a free man were numbered anyway."

"He'll make certain all the evidence is destroyed before I can get to it," says Sam.

"Maybe so, but if one was to … say … pin a certain murder on him-"

"Frame him for a murder I committed? Don't get me wrong – he's an evil human being who deserves his punishment and I can't wait for him to get it, but I can't do that. Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Son, you have to."

"His own trial will come, and-"

"No, it has to be this way."

"Why?" asks Sam.

"Mr. Devins, one day your daughter is going to wake up from that coma and she's gonna ask for her daddy. I can't live with myself knowing I'll have to look her in the eyes and say your execution was justified.

I once heard in a move, 'For once I'd like to enter my house justified'. I want to enter my house and know I've done something – the right thing, which I'll be remembered for. Like I said, once of these days, she's gonna wake up. And you damn well best be there."

PRESENT.

"_LIAR!_" shouts Jenkins in a thick southern accent.

Officers enter the courtroom. Walters wipes tears away, then replies, "In light of this evidence, I dismiss this case until such time as things can be sorted out. Bailiff, you are instructed to take Sheriff Jenkins into custody."

"_NO!_" the veins in his neck throb. He whips out his gun. Sam ducts, along with everyone else in the courtroom; Al too, out of habit.

"Just east up there, Tom," says the Bailiff as he approaches.

Jenkins cocks the weapon and aims at Sam for a moment.

"Back off!" his head jolts around to see four officers approaching; one draws some pepper spray and sneaks into range.

"Put the weapon down…" the bailiff says.

"_YOU SON OF A BITCH!_" and with that he aims and scatters his brains across the side of Judge Walters' desk.

Screams fill the room.

"Dear god!" Al exclaims.

Sam, under the desk, shakes. He gets up, "Your honor."

Judge Walters, shaken, rises up from behind the desk, while an officer is checking him.

"I declare myself to be a threat to my own safety and ask that I be remanded to the state institution until," closes his eyes and shudders, "…until such time as I am better."

"Would a bailiff please place Mr. Devins in handcuffs?"

Sam stands there in tears – tears of bittersweet victory, and comments, "It wasn't me."

Sam is engulfed in blue ripples of light. Brighter colored bolts of scattered lightening run across his body. The luminosity glares blindingly, then faces back and the light vanishes into him. The bolts dissipate.

He is still crying. He looks around. Though still foggy from the leap, things looked familiar.

"_DADDY!_"

He spins about and sees Catrina run over. She hugs him. Only dressed in her under cloths, Sam notices a strap hanging lose. He holds her tightly.

…**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**(The conclusion of Part 1 of, "A Leap Into Terror")**


End file.
