The sun flooded through the large window of the bar, exposing every crevice. It was a quiet morning and it was quiet inside the bar, except for the slow ticking of the clock and the occasional ruffle of paper as the bartender turned the pages of the newspaper he was reading. He stood behind the bar, his hands planted firmly on the polished wood, supporting his frame. He scanned the page slowly, taking in the content carefully.
As he finished with his current page, he carefully turned to the next. He skimmed most of it, but he smirked as his eyes caught on the words: "Pirates Lose To Mets, Streak Reaches Nine Games."
"Same old Pirates," he said to no-one in particular. Indeed because there was no-one to say it to. The bar was quiet and empty, but he wasn't surprised. It was only a little after ten in the morning. His first real crowd would not get there until about noon. The lunch crowd.
He lifted the paper off the bar and held it arms length. He flipped through the remaining pages, taking note of certain things that caught his eye. When he reached the end, he smiled to himself and folded the paper in half. He was about to throw it away, but something inside him told him not to. So he shrugged and placed it under the bar.
The bartender turned around and immediately picked up a glass from off the cupboard. He examined it closely, it was clean, but that didn't stop him from pulling the towel off of his shoulder and wiping it anyway. After wiping the glass for a good five minutes, he satisfied himself that it was clean, and returned it to the cupboard. Before he picked up another glass, he paused as he saw himself in the mirror.
He grimaced, but then chuckled. He could swear that he was getting fatter. But he shrugged it off and picked up another glass and began wiping it. He was so deeply involved with his glass that he didn't see the particle of light appear near the door.
At first the light was white, but it quickly turned blue. The light began as a pinpoint, but it quickly grew, eventually taking the shape of a person.
The bartender was wiping his third glass, but he hadn't failed to notice the blue light filling the room. He never turned around, though a wry smile formed on his mouth as he polished the glass even more. He put the glass down and glanced at his watch. "Right on time," he said as he placed the towel back on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at the man who was standing near the door, who was still examining his surroundings, and who, the bartender knew, hadn't been there before.
But the bartender knew who he was.
"What can I get you, Sam?"
* * *
Dr. Sam Becket had been leaping for quite a while, he had never gotten totally used to it, and he'd tell you, if anyone ever asked. Sam had once seen the visual effect of leaping, but he had recently become more aware of it on himself. He had begun to notice the blue field on the periphery of his vision which usually occurred when he either began a leap or finished leaping. In between was a blue blur.
He had become so accustomed to leaping that the disorientation that used to be part and parcel of a leap, was now a distant memory. When Sam leaped in somewhere, he had complete use of his faculties immediately. As was the case now. The field was fading and Sam began surveying his surroundings. Establishing where you were and who you were was of prime importance after a leap-in. He scanned the room, with a definite sense of familiarity filling him. Sam knew that he had been here before, he was positive.
The he heard a voice. "What can I get you, Sam?"
Sam immediately turned in the direction that the voice had come from. He recognized the bartender at once. It had been a while since he had seen him, but he had been one of the most memorable people Sam had encountered during his leaps. It was Al. Not Al Calavicci, not his Al. Al the bar-tender who owned "Al's Place." Sam had encountered Al a few hundred leaps ago when he leaped into himself on the day of his own birth in 1953.
Sam walked over to the bar with his hand extended and a smile on his face. "Al."
"Hiya, Sam," Al said as he shook Sam's hand. "It's been a while."
"Yeah," Sam said, as he and Al released grips.
Sam looked at Al, Al looked pretty much the way Sam remembered him. He still had the thin mustache and his hair was still combed back neatly. He still had that all knowing, yet relaxed look. Pure bliss seemed to radiate from Al's person.
"So what can I get you, Sam?"
"You still got Schlitz on tap?" Sam asked, as he took a seat on a stool directly across from Al.
"Sure do," Al said as he turned his back. He picked something up and turned back around. He was holding two glasses. "Regular or schooner?"
"Schooner," Sam said. "Still fifteen cents?"
"Sorry, Sam," Al said as he was filling Sam's glass. "I had to raise my prices." Al placed the glass directly in front of Sam, and rested his hands on the bar. "That'll be a dollar."
Sam took a sip of the beer, as he fished a wadded up dollar bill out of his pocket. He placed it on the bar. Al nodded at him and picked up the bill. He smoothed it out as he went over to the register. He still had the old fashioned register. He rung up Sam's order, slamming the drawer closed with his elbow. He walked back over to Sam.
"How've you been, Sam?"
"Not bad, Al. Not bad." He said between sips. "I've been busy."
"I know," Al said, that implacable look still on his face.
"So where am I now," Sam said as he placed the glass down on the bar. He looked straight into Al's eyes.
"You're in my bar."
Sam let out a loud laugh. "You haven't changed Al. Still won't give out." Sam picked up his beer and took a long drink, emptying the glass. He placed the glass on the bar and took out another bill. "Fill her up."
Al took the glass and filled it back up. He placed it in front of Sam and took the bill.
Sam sipped the beer as he got off the stool. With glass firmly in hand, he walked over to the window. "Why am I here now, Al," he said as he look out. The town outside had grown. There were more modern looking buildings, the cars looked more modern, but the town was still small, still quiet. Sam knew this wasn't 1953. "What year is this?"
"See for yourself," Al said as he pulled the newspaper back out from under the bar.
Sam came back over and placed his glass down. He picked up the paper, and immediately went to the date: 2005. In fact, it was the tenth anniversary of the day that he had stepped into the Quantum Leap Accelerator, and had leaped for the first time.
"Ten years," Sam said whistfully. "It's been ten years."
"Happy anniversary, Sam."
"I can't believe I've been in here for ten years."
"Who says you have?" Al said. "That's the funny thing about time, Sam; how long you've been leaping is relative. You can go back to almost anytime you wish. Your next leap could land you on the day of your twentieth anniversary, it doesn't mean you've been in the time stream for twenty years."
"I does to me, Al," Sam said. "Besides, it seems about right." Sam took a sip of his beer. He turned away from Al and looked back toward the door, the sunlight flooding in. "You never answered my first question: Why am I here now?"
"I don't know, Sam. You tell me."
"You're like a psychiatrist, Al. You answer a question with a question. That can be very annoying."
"I know," Al said. "But truth is found in questions, not answers. The answer to a question should raise even more questions. The search for knowledge is a bumpy road."
Sam sipped his beer as he stared out the window, Al decided to continue wiping the glasses.
"Last time I was here, you told me it was, in essence, a break. You said is was a sabbatical before a long and hard journey. Well, let me tell you, I've been on a long and hard journey. I'd really like to go home now."
"Then why don't you?"
"You tell me, Al," Sam said, as he turned to face the bartender again.
"Tell you what, Sam? I told you before, I don't control your leaps, you do."
"I know Al," Sam said. "In the past few years, I've come to realize it."
"Glad to hear it, Sam. Then why are you here?"
"I'm not sure. I think it's to repay a debt. Maybe to you. I'm not sure."
"You've already payed me for the beer," Al said stoically. "You don't owe me anything."
"Maybe I do," said Sam. "Or maybe I'm here for some answers."
"Such as?"
"What is this bar? Where is this place? And who are you?"
"Mind if we take one at a time," Al said. "Let's go over to one of the tables and talk. I'll get you another beer. On the house."
Sam got up and walked over to the nearest table. He sat down and placed his half drinken glass of beer next to him. Al followed a moment later. He placed the full glass of beer next to the other one, and took a seat across from Sam. "So, let's talk."
"What is this bar?" Sam asked.
"To put it bluntly, it's a temporal nexus. It exists both in time and out of time."
"Is that why the entire town has changed but the bar has stayed the same?"
"Yes," Al said, as he stared directly into Sam's eyes. "This bar only exists in real time when you are here. When you're not, it doesn't exist at all."
"Are you saying I created this bar?" Sam asked incredulously.
"No, I did."
"And who are you?"
"You'll find out, although I think you suspect the truth already."
Sam stared at Al for a moment. He stared hard at Al. Then understanding came across his face. It had hit him like a bolt of lightning. "You're here to find me. To help me get home."
"Yes and no," Al said. "I can't get you home. Only you can get yourself home. You have to decide to go home. I'm merely a guide. I try to help you get on the right path, and you only come here when you're close. Think of me as the gatekeeper."
"If I only come here when I'm close to home," Sam said, "Then why didn't I go home last time?"
"If I had to venture a guess," Al said. "It's probably because you felt guilty for not helping Al when you did."
"I did at the time, but I made up for it. Why didn't I leap?"
Al leaned across the table, and stared hard at Sam. "In your concious mind, Sam, yes, you made up for it. But in your unconscious mind, you still felt guilty." Al leaned back in his seat. His demeanor returned to normal. He looked at Sam inquisitively. "You developed the theory behind the Quantum Leap Project, Sam. You knew why it would work, but do you know how it works?"
Sam shook his head, clearly entranced with Al. Al closed his eyes as he began explaining to Sam. "The Quantum Leap Accelerator displaced your body in time. Your physical body merged with the time stream. You ceased to be a physical being. Your state has become almost corporeal."
"How is that possible?"
"For every advantage, there is a disadvantage. Think about it Sam. If a person won a million dollars, the advantage would be financial freedom, but the disadvantage is often increased greed as well as unhappiness. You succeeded in traveling through time. The cost has been your physical body. You now exist out of time. That's why you remember when you change things."
"Is that why I remember Shtaupa when no one else did after he leaped?"
"Yes," Sam said. "Even though those people were a collection of people you had leaped into before, they existed in time. When Shtaupa leaped, he changed time. He created a new reality for them. In that reality, Shtaupa had been dead for twenty years. You remembered, and I remembered, because we exist outside of time.
"When you leap into someone's body, that is the only time you exist in time. And then you only exist as someone else."
"But that doesn't explain why I didn't leap home the last time. If I control my leaping, why didn't I send myself home?"
"Don't underestimate the power of the subconscious mind. It controls more than we think." Al said, once again looking directly into Sam's eyes. "I think your subconscious was making you pay penance for not helping Al when you had the chance. Or maybe your subconscious simply felt your work wasn't done. Whatever the reason, you simply weren't ready."
"Am I now?" Sam asked nervously.
"I don't know, Sam. You tell me."
"I think I do."
"But do you feel it everywhere," Al said. "You have to believe with both minds in order to get home. I know it sounds like something out of the 'Wizard of Oz', Sam. But it's the truth. Look inside. You'll know if you're ready."
Sam was on the verge of tears. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and gathered himself. He picked up the full glass of beer and downed it in a few gulps. He placed the empty glass on the table and stood up. Sam walked back over to the bar. After a moment, Al followed and took his place back behind the bar. He leaned forward, with his arms extended, and stared at Sam.
"You know," Sam said after a minute or two of silence. "Whenever I leap, it's usually to help somebody."
"This is no different," Al said.
"Then who am I here to help?" Sam asked.
"Look in the mirror," Al said.
Sam obeyed. He stared intently at the image in the silver-backed glass. He had gotten older. The grey hair that had once covered only a mere patch in the front, now covered his temples. The wrinkles were deeply set in his face. Sam stared at the image, and decided he looked tired.
Al had come around the bar and stood next to Sam. He stared up at his and Sam's image as he placed his hand on Sam's back. He pointed at the mirror with his other hand.
"You see that guy right there," Al said. "You're here to help him. His name is Sam Becket. He's a pretty nice guy. He's tired and he wants to go home."
Al grabbed Sam by the shoulder and turned Sam toward him until they were staring at each other, no more than a few inches apart. Al stared deeply into Sam's eyes as if probing his soul. "Send him home, Sam," he said in a low whisper.
Sam broke down. He was sobbing now. Almost immediately, the last ten years flooded through his mind. The good times and the bad, the successes, and the failures. Everything. It was more than Sam could bear. For the first time in a long time, Sam let go. He turned away from Al and banged his fist on the bar. The emotions were overwhelming. It took him a long time to regain himself.
It was Al who brought him out of it. "You okay, Sam?"
Sam managed, "Yeah, I'll be fine," as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Sam composed himself and looked at Al. Sam's eyes were red, and his hair was a little disheveled, but he gave Al a smile. Sam looked almost relieved. "Thank you, Al."
Sam extended his hand.
"No," Al said as he took Sam's hand. "Thank you. You're a good man, Sam Becket."
There was a moment of silence, which was interrupted by the alarm on Al's watch. It was beeping furiously. Al clicked it, and looked at Sam. "I'd better get ready for the lunch crowd. They'll be all coming in to eat soon."
As if on cue, a tall man in work overalls walked in the door. "Hey, Al," he said. "Give me a beer, and a hot pastrami sandwich."
"Coming right up," Al said. He looked at Sam and said, "Well duty calls."
Sam smiled at Al. "Yeah, I guess I'd better be on my way. Thanks again."
"No problem, Sam," Al said. "If you're ever in town again and want a beer, you know where I am."
Sam smiled and stepped away from the bar. "Bye, Al," he said. After a second, Sam's body became enveloped in a field of blue electricity. His body sparked and swirled for a moment, but then disappeared. The only thing left was a few stray electrical particles in the air, but they quickly disappeared as well. Sam Becket had leaped once more.
Al turned to his customer. "Hey Paul, could you step outside for a few minutes? I want to clean up."
"Sure thing, Al," Paul said. "Though I can't figure why. This place is immaculate."
Al just smiled.
"See ya in a few," Paul said as he stepped outside.
Al stepped back behind the bar. He opened one of the cupboards below the large mirror. Inside he pulled out a small device. It was oddly shaped, with sharp angles and lights. He tapped on it a few times. Suddenly, a door of pure light opened. It was a tear in space and time itself. Al put the device into his pocket and walked over to the door of the bar.
He glanced outside, Paul was across the street, talking to the girl he liked. Al smiled and locked the door. He then turned the sign over to where it said 'Closed'. He went back over to the bar. He took the device back out of his pocket and tapped on it a few more times. Al then walked over to the light door and stepped through. He looked back at the bar and said, "Mission accomplished."
Al turned around and walked further into the light. The light door closed behind him, and a moment later, the bar dissolved away.
* * *
Gushy stared at the scanner. He was frustrated. They had lost trace of Dr. Becket three days ago, and hadn't been able to find him. This had happened a few times before, and a couple of times it had been bad, almost disastrous. Gushy was determined to find him.
Admiral Al Calavicci wasn't in uniform today, opting instead for one of his loud suits. He walked up behind Gushy, and let his presence be known by placing his hand on the console of the scanner.
"Any luck?" Al said.
"No Admiral," Gushy said. "We can't find him. We've tried damn near everything. At this point, Ziggy estimates our chances of finding him at 1200 to 1. It looks grim."
"We've got to find him," Al said. "I'm going back into the imaging chamber."
But before Al could do anything, Tina, a technician on the project, ran into the room furiously. "Admiral Calavicci, Gushy, come quickly."
"What is it Tina?" Al said.
"It's the accelerator, it's come on."
"What!" Gushy and Al said in unison.
"Yes, Admiral, it came on a moment ago, and the energy is increasing exponentially."
"Come on," Al yelled, as he ran out of the scanner room very quickly. Gushy and Tina followed.
It wasn't a far distance between the scanner room and the accelerator room, but they had run so hard, that all three were short of breath when they got there. They all just panted and stared in amazement. It was true, the accelerator was on. Al watched the white light emitting from the floor. Though the room was filled, no-one said a word. All eyes stared fixedly at the accelerator. Each hoping against hope that, maybe, this meant that Dr. Becket was coming back. But each secretly terrified that he wouldn't.
For a period of five minutes, nothing happened. The accelerator was on and the energy levels were holding. But nothing was happening.
But they didn't have to wait much longer.
In the center of the accelerator, a blue pinpoint of light formed, and then expanded. Soon the edges took on the form on a person, of a man. Everyone was silent, transfixed on the accelerator, and whatever was emerging from it.
Al hoped against hope. So much that it became a challenge to breathe. He had to remind himself. He crossed his fingers and said a prayer.
The blue light in the accelerator sparked and flashed, causing the white light in the accelerator to become blindingly bright. It became so bright that the assembled audience had to look away. They could no longer see the form inside the light. And to make matters worse, the light wasn't receding.
"Cut the power," Al yelled.
A technician nodded, went over to the control, and de-activated the accelerator. It took a moment for the light to fade and another moment for their eyes to clear, but when it did they were all aghast at what they saw in the accelerator. They didn't know what to say.
* * *
When the he leaped in, Sam thought he was dead. He was surrounded by bright lights. He couldn't see. But after a few moments, the light abruptly disappeared. Sam was weak, but he managed to rub his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear, but when it did, he saw a group of people staring at him. But it was two people, or rather one person in particular, that grabbed Sam's attention. He knew that suit and that face anywhere. "Al," Sam whispered, "I'm home."
He stepped out of the accelerator and moved toward Al.
"I'm home," he said slightly louder.
He reached Al. Sam reached his hand out tentatively. Slowly, and carefully, lest this was a dream, he touched Al. He was solid. He wasn't a hologram. This wasn't a dream.
"Al," Sam said, placing both hands on Al's shoulders.
Al looked at him almost disbelievingly. "Sam, is that really you? Are you really here?"
In answer, Sam planted a massive hug on Al. "I'M HOME!" He yelled. He couldn't hold back the joy.
"Sam," Al said, the joy rising in his voice. "Sam Becket you son of a bitch! You're back!"
The two men embraced further. They released each other, though they kept their arms around each other's shoulder. Sam turned to look at everybody. He saw Gushy.
"Gushy," Sam said, extending his hand. "God I missed you."
Gushy shook his hand. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Me too, Dr. Becket. Me too."
Sam looked at everyone assembled. His smile was as large as the ocean. "I missed all of you," he said. "And I want to thank you for never giving up on me. I want to thank you all for having faith. You guys are the best."
It had been quiet until now, but the assembled group cheered. Until now, they had all kept their distance, they gathered around. All asking a load of questions and express-ing their joy and relief. All except one. And Sam noticed him. "Al, whose he? I don't remember him."
Al looked over at the man in question. "Oh, him," he said. "He's new. He was working on a way of projecting a hard light hologram through the projection chamber, and of making artificial environments inside time."
"What's his name?"
"I don't know," Al said. "Tina."
"Yes Admiral?"
"What's that new guy's name?"
"Albert. Albert Conrad."
"You want to meet him, Sam?"
Sam gazed at the young man. He stared hard at him, a look of confusion on his face. But after a moment, a wry smile came across his lips. "No, Al," Sam said. "We've met."
Before Al could say anything, Sam said, "I think this calls for a celebration! Don't you, Al?"
"Absolutely, Sam."
"Then let's go."
Sam and Al, arms still hung over each others shoulders, walked out of the room, the team following close behind. They walked down the hall, Sam smiling all the way. After years leaping from life to life, the only life he needed to worry about was Sam Becket's. No more leaping into celebrities, or people on the run from the mob, or people being stalked by serial killers. No more looking in the mirror and seeing old men, young boys, beautiful women, pregnant women. From now on, the reflection in the mirror would be his. The voice would be his. The life would be his.
Dr. Sam Becket was home.