Probable Impossibilities

Four high-beam flashlights cut ribbons of light out of the shadows inside the large, empty building. The door that had once filled the space that the human intruders were standing in hung open, a large black scar on its lock where Clark’s heat vision had burned through. One of the four stepped hesitantly into the warehouse, the darkness doing its best to disguise his lanky figure, but not quite succeeding. He was followed by the two women, the shorter one with hair that sent out flame-colored sparks every time one of the lights touched it, and the taller one, the only person not wearing a trenchcoat. The other man, about the same height as the first but more built, hung in the doorway, his glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose and his eyes scanning the darkness.

“Do you see anything?” Lois asked, turning to glance over her shoulder at her fiancé.

He shook his head, pushing the glasses back up to their usual resting place. “I didn’t scan the whole building, but it doesn’t look like they left anything behind but dust.”

Mulder’s face registered his disappointment and the beam in his hand dropped towards the floor, illuminating a patch on the bare cement like a small spotlight. To come so close so often…

Scully gave her partner a reassuring pat on the arm. “Come on,” she told him softly. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go.”

He glanced over at her, indecision written plainly on his face. Then, his eyes hardened with determination. Turning on his heel, he plunged into the darkness, his intent footsteps echoing against the steel walls.

His partner watched the distance grow between them for a few minutes, until all she could see was the shrinking beam of light from his flashlight. Then, with a sigh, she set off into the darkness after him, walking swiftly to catch up to his long strides.

Lois started to follow them, but Clark caught her arm gently. “Let her go, Lois,” he said softly. “I think this is between them.”

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded and placed her own hand over his where it still rested on her arm. He smiled softly at her, and they stood there together, relishing each other’s presence and watching the retreating figures of the two agents.

“Mulder, wait.”

Hearing his partner’s voice, Mulder slowed his steps enough to let her catch up to him. He could see that she was slightly out of breath, though she was doing her best to try to hide it. He smiled weakly at her, knowing the risk she had taken in coming after him, and not just that Lois and Clark might take the opportunity to leave.

When she reached him, she met his eyes with understanding and sympathy. “Mulder,” she told him softly. “Kent said the warehouse would probably be empty.”

“I know,” was the quiet reply. “I guess I just hoped they might have gotten careless and overlooked something.” With a sigh, he overturned an empty crate and sat down on it. Scully crouched down beside him.

“You can’t keep looking for Samantha behind every locked door with a US government seal on it, Mulder.” Her voice was gentle, the words formed of concern, not criticism.

“I’m…”

“You’re what?”

I’m not… he wanted to say, but Scully knew him too well. “I’m just tired of always coming so close and then missing!” He balled his hand into a tight fist that whitened his knuckles, and pounded his knee with it. The flashlight which had been in his hand rolled off his lap and across the floor of the warehouse until it came to an uneasy rest against a nearby wall, still lit.

“I know,” she replied softly. “I know.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments, lost in their own respective thoughts. Finally, Mulder stood with a sigh and Scully followed his lead. “I guess you’re right…” he admitted.

She smiled. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He nodded, walked over to the wall and bent down to retrieve his flashlight. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of bright colors reflecting the light out of the corner of his eye. His heart jumped a little in hope and he turned his head to get a better view. Lying carelessly against the wall was a pocket-sized cluster of multicolored fluorescent cubes, mostly hidden behind another empty crate. His face brightened into an eager smile.

“Scully, look at this!”

Scully’s eyes turned to where her partner was kneeling beside the crate against the wall, holding the flashlight aimed at it with one hand and reaching behind it with the other. “Did you find something?” she asked, surprised.

He nodded and stood with the strange device in his hand. His partner’s eyes widened as she took in what seemed to be a glowing gob of polychromatic Jolly Ranchers or Legos, or…something. What on earth..?

Project Quantum Leap momentarily forgotten, Mulder studied the unearthly-looking gadget, turning it over and over in his hands. “This can’t be man-made…” he murmured to himself. “Human technology isn’t this colorful. It must be some sort of alien communicator.” He flashed her a lopsided grin.

Scully rolled her eyes. “May I take a look at it?”

He nodded and handed it to her with an amused smile, knowing that she would disagree with his assessment, but feeling sure he was up to the challenge. He was seldom wrong about things like this, after all.

“I don’t see why this can’t be man-made,” she replied predictably after a brief perusal of the device. “It could easily be a portable link to a supercomputer, or something like that. Look, you can see some of the circuitry through the cubes, and the screen…” She squinted at the tiny screen on the thing. “Seems to be a liquid-crystal display. Though admittedly, an awfully small one.”

Mulder peered at it over her shoulder. “You actually think a human being could read that thing?”

“Sure–it would be a bit of a strain on the eyes, but, it’s definitely possible…if only the thing worked…” Scully whacked it hard on the side with the hand that was not holding it. She jumped as the thing came to life with a sudden glow and a protesting squeal, almost dropping it.

Almost instantly, Clark was beside them, with Lois in his arms. “Are you all right? I heard a strange noise.”

The two agents just stared at him and the woman he was carrying.

“Aren’t you supposed to carry her across the threshold *after* you get married?” Mulder asked dryly.

With an embarrassed smile, Clark set her down. “Well, she complains about not being able to keep up with me…”

“What did you find?” Lois asked, when her fiancé’s attempt at an explanation had kind of faded out.

“I’m not sure,” was the murmured reply from Scully. Mulder started to offer his explanation, but she cut him off with “We both have our theories.”

“There’s something on the screen…” Lois commented, pointing at it.

Indeed words had appeared on the screen, scrolling slowly across it, although every once in a while the flow would stop until the device was jarred somehow.

Scully peered at the tiny display. “This doesn’t make sense. It’s just a string of facts.”

Clark slid his glasses down on his nose and glanced over her shoulder at it. “March fifteenth, nineteen sixty-two, Kevin Michael Sager, Yakima, Washington, Weatherman, father of two boys, Jason Michael and Tyler Allan, wife Helen dies March seventeenth in Col.” He frowned. “Col?”

The female agent deliberately hit the device again and it let out another squeal.

“Lision.” Clark concluded. “Lision? Oh, collision.”

Lois looked at the thing, baffled. “What is this, some sort of biographical database? And why the first date–March fifteenth? What’s the significance of that?”

Mulder’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “You’re right, Scully,” he said in a voice that was almost awed. “This *is* a portable link to a supercomputer, and…” He turned to Lois. “You’re right about it being a database.” An excited smile spread over his face, much like the expression he had worn when he thought their discovery was of alien origin. “This must be what Al uses to keep in contact with Ziggy!”

Project Quantum Leap
Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

“Let’s see, your name is…” Admiral Albert Calavicci glanced down at the handlink in his hands, frowning when he saw that the screen was blank. Startled, he glanced back up at the expectant face of his best friend.

“Well?” Sam asked.

Al frowned. He slapped the calculator-sized console and looked at it again. “Gooshie!” he howled.

The programmer’s voice came over the intercom. “Is something the matter, Admiral?”

“Where’s the information I asked you for!”

Gooshie stammered. “Why…I…I sent it to you. Ziggy sent it to you.”

“The screen of the handlink is blank!”

There was a brief silence. Al imagined the little programmer’s hands flying over Ziggy’s main console, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Uh oh.” Gooshie’s voice sounded worried.

The Admiral’s head snapped up from where he had been again looking at the silent handlink. “What?” he asked, his eyes and voice wary.

“Admiral, you’d better come out here. We have a problem–Ziggy’s picked up the signal of another handlink.”

Al’s eyes widened in alarm. Another one? But there isn’t another one! “Sam, I have to take care of something back at the Project. Will you be okay for a while?”

Sam frowned at the Observer, reading the concern in his friend’s eyes. “Al, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” the Admiral replied honestly. “But I’m going to find out and get back here as soon as I can, I promise.”

Metropolis
1996

Scully bit her lip in frustration. In the time they had been speaking with Clark Kent and Lois Lane, they had managed to find out almost nothing, except that both insisted that Superman’s abilities were genuine. She had thrown out other theories as to the origins of his ‘powers’ but both of the reporters had dismissed them all, although they refused to explain their certainty. The most irksome thing about it was that it was her, not Mulder, who was getting incredulous stares in response to her questions.

Of the two, Kent was more trusting and forthcoming, which was rather a surprise. The records they had checked before coming to Metropolis seemed to indicate that he was the one with more to hide, but it was Lois who responded most sharply to their inquiries and sometimes refused to answer at all.

“You have to understand,” Clark tried to explain his fiancee’s hostility, “the last government agent who wanted to speak to us about Superman was Jason Trask. He tried to kill both of us to get to him, so you’ll have to forgive us if we’re a little suspicious.”

“I have no intention of trying to kill either of you,” Mulder tried to assure them.

“Is that why you did your best to drive us crazy with your phone calls?” Lois snapped in return.

“No, that’s just an inescapable part of his personality, I’m afraid,” Scully interjected unexpectedly.

The tension in the room broke as Lois burst out laughing.

“Thanks, Scully,” Mulder replied dryly, glancing at his partner in amused approval. He then turned back to Kent. “Is there any way we could speak to Superman?”

The two reporters glanced at each other, some sort of wordless communication passing between them.

Clark shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” He stood. “I’ll go see if I can find him.” Mulder held up a hand to stop him and Kent hesitated nervously. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s just a few more questions I want to ask you,” the agent replied calmly. “Why doesn’t Ms. Lane go to find him?”

“Well, I…” he stammered.

“Clark’s so much better at getting in touch with him than I am,” Lois explained quickly for him with a bright but artificial smile.

“Really?” was the deadpan reply. “According to records, Ms. Lane, Superman has never failed to reach you when you were in danger–“

“Are you planning to put me in danger, Agent Mulder?” she asked sharply, her dark eyes once again shooting knives at the two.

Ignoring her comment, Mulder continued, “–and he has also been known to appear at your behest when your life is *not* in jeopardy. Quite frequently, actually.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the two journalists again exchanged a meaningful glance. Finally, Clark nodded reluctantly and sat down. Lois pursed her lips and reached for the doorknob.

“This may take a while,” she informed them curtly as she left.

Scully watched her go, intrigued. The two of them were definitely hiding something, and if she was reading Mulder right, he suspected pretty much the same thing that she did. Now, they just had to confirm that mutual suspicion.

“Well, Mr. Kent,” Mulder began, leaning back in his chair. “You have a rather intriguing history.”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked warily.

“Before coming here, I did a little research into your and your fiancee’s backgrounds, and I noticed a number of holes in yours.”

“Holes?”

“For instance, the fact that there is no record of your adoption by the Kents. And the date you list as your birthday coincides with a number of UFO sightings in the general area of Smallville, Kansas, which, if I remember correctly, is your hometown.”

“What does any of this have to do with Superman?” Clark tried to change the subject.

“I’m getting to that,” was the calm reply. “When you were around twelve years old, there was a mysterious fire at the Kent farm. Somehow the it was put out before the fire department arrived on the scene, but your parents refused to make any effort to determine the cause, insisting that it was just an accident, and not important. Shortly after that, you began wearing glasses, although there are no records of an eye examination being conducted. In fact, you have apparently never had a physical in your life, since the name of the doctor listed on your school records does not exist. Or if he does, he doesn’t practice anywhere near Smallville.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“People who have nothing to hide don’t keep secrets, Mr. Kent,” Scully contributed, watching him for any change in demeanor.

Clark shifted his attention to the female agent and then back to her partner, sensing that he was trapped. “Look, can we discuss this in a minute? I have to…” He gestured towards the door, looking embarrassed. “You know.”

“Change clothes?” Mulder asked innocently. “Perhaps into a pair of blue tights with red speedos worn on the outside?”

He was cornered, and he knew it, but he was also still hesitant to straight out admit the biggest secret of his life. He hadn’t even done that with Lois–she’d figured it out herself. But then, so had these two, apparently… His gaze drifted from one to the other of the two agents. They were both clearly very bright, and far enough away from the situation to be objective. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he’d be hard-pressed to think of an excuse they would believe. Fortunately, he had good instincts, and those instincts were telling him that not only could these two probably be trusted, but that they would not be endangered by that knowledge because no one would suspect them of possesing it. Smiling weakly, the reporter sat down again. “How did you figure it out?”

“So you admit that you’re the person who’s been masquerading as Superman?” Scully asked.

Much to her surprise, he laughed. “Yeah, I can admit to that. It sure beats being asked if Superman is masquerading as me.” He chuckled again at the female agent’s raised eyebrow. “It’s a long story. I suppose you’ll want to see proof that I can do what I say I can?”

“It would be appreciated.”

Mulder nodded in agreement, grinning. “Yeah, I could deal with a demonstration.”

Clark sighed. “Well, all right, but not here. My identity *is* still a secret, you know.”

“How many people actually know?” Mulder asked.

“My parents and Lois, pretty much.”

Scully nodded, a rather disturbed look on her face. He seemed to be telling the truth, which made it more likely that his powers were real, since many more people would have to be in on a hoax this big to pull it off.

“Look,” Clark asked, “Can I go out and tell Lois what’s going on? She’s probably getting worried that I haven’t excused myself yet.”

Mulder inclined his head in agreement. “Where should we go from there?”

“To my apartment, I guess. I think I can get Perry to give Lois and me the rest of the day off. You two can come with us, or follow us in your car, whichever you prefer.”

“All right.”

“I have just one question…” Scully interjected.

Clark turned his attention to her.

“What ever did possess you to take up tights, anyway?” she asked.

“Well, my mom made them for me.”

“All right. Whatever possessed her then?”

“She said it cut down on wind resistance and…” He blushed, much to their surprise. “…that I wouldn’t have to worry about people paying much attention to my face.”

Scully colored a little as well, wishing she hadn’t asked. Mulder just grinned. “I’ll have to remember that the next time we go undercover, huh, Scully?”

“If you do, you can forget about taking me along,” she warned him.

Clark smiled, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob. “I’ll be right back,” he assured them as he closed the door behind him.

As soon as he stepped back into the newsroom, Lois was at his side. “What happened?”

Her fiancé took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “They know.”

“What?” she asked, alarmed. “But, how?”

“I’m not sure…I think that Mulder did a background check and then just put two and two together.”

Lois frowned slightly. “You would think I could have done that,” she muttered under her breath. It still irked her occasionally that it had taken her so long to figure out that the two men she loved were one and the same.

Clark smiled fondly at her. “Well, if you think about it, Lois, you weren’t exactly in a position to be objective.”

She returned the smile. “Good point.” Her face sobered as she sat down at her desk, pondering the new complication that had been thrown into their already-eventful day. “So, what do we do now?”

“They want a demonstration.”

His fiancee’s eyes widened in alarm. “Here??”

“No, I convinced them to go back to my apartment with us.”

“What about after that? Do you think we can trust them to keep your secret?” Lois was very concerned.

Clark frowned thoughtfully. “I think so. They seem trustworthy. We might have to give them a good reason to keep it a secret, though. I just wish I had some way to get their minds off it, at least for a while…”

The other reporter sighed, her eyes drifting to her computer screen. Only an hour ago, she had been faced with the exciting prospect of making a vital discovery about a Top Secret government time travel project, and now, she was trying to think of a way to distract two overly-savvy FBI agents!

Something clicked in her mind and her eyes widened. FBI agents would have government clearance… “We do.”

“What?”

“We do have a way to distract them.” She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a sheaf of computer-printed pages. “I am willing to bet they would be interested in investigating Project Quantum Leap.”

“But do you want to share it with them?” he asked, curiously.

Lois nodded as she took the precious tape and file out of another drawer, adding it to the biography and notes. “It might be the only way we can get in there.”

Mulder and Scully glanced up as the reporters re-entered the room, their arms full of papers. The agents frowned, puzzled. What were those for?

“I was wondering if you two could help us with something that we’ve been working on…” Lois explained, dumping her armload on the table of the conference room. Clark set his pile down beside hers, a pile that included a small tape reel.

Mulder jumped a little, both startled and excited at the sight. Could it be the one..?

The reporters sat down and Lois picked up the tape and file. “This morning, a man came into the newsroom and handed these to me. He told me they were something that should never have existed.”

“What does this have to do with–” Scully began.

“We need your help,” the reporter interrupted, anticipating the question, “because you know. If you didn’t, we couldn’t risk showing you everything we have because of how we obtained it, and there’s a good chance we wouldn’t be able to do anything further on this investigation. So, just take it as a sign that we’ve decided to trust you.”

The two agents were silent, mollified.

Lois continued. “We listened to this tape, and this is what we got.” She handed Mulder the transcript. “The words in parentheses are side comments that Clark heard on an ultrasonic frequency.”

A broad, pleased smile spread over Mulder’s face as he read the paper. “Scully, this is the tape I told you about!”

Scully stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“You knew about the tape?” Lois asked incredulously.

He nodded, still smiling. “One of my sources informed me that a Top Secret tape from the Project Blue Book days had been stolen from a Metropolis warehouse. From the information you have in this transcript, this must be it.”

“What makes you say that?” Clark asked, curiously.

The agent pointed to the first of the parenthesed comments. “That would have to be Al.”

“Al?”

“A holographic projection of a man from Sam’s present who acts as an observer and information source on his Leaps. He can only be seen and heard by Sam…” He glanced up at Clark, amused. “And apparently Extraterrestrials.”

“Leaps?” Lois asked. By this time, the shift in conversation had brought some things back to normal–everyone in the room was now staring at Mulder in disbelief. He nodded in response to her question, then proceeded to reach down and unlace his left shoe.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” Scully asked.

“Explaining,” he replied, coming back up with the shoelace in his hands. “Sam Beckett theorized that time was like a piece of string–one end of it was your birth, the other was your death. If you could somehow find a way to ball the string up in your hand, all the points of your life would touch other points, enabling you to move, or ‘quantum leap’ from one point to another within your own lifetime.” As he explained, he demonstrated the theory on the shoelace. “But apparently the Project malfunctioned. They believe it was taken over by some sort of higher power, who requires Sam to fix something that originally went wrong in history before he can move on to another time.”

“So…you’re saying that the tape was of Dr. Beckett being interrogated while he was in 1966?” Clark asked.

Mulder nodded, bending down to re-lace his shoe.

“But then, why does the tape say it is an interrogation of Maxwell Stoddard?” Lois asked, confused.

“Because…” came the strained reply from the still-bent-over agent. “That’s another aspect of the Project–apparently…when Sam Leaps into somewhere, he bounces someone else…out.” He came up again, his brown hair, disorderly and his face flushed from being upside-down for so long. The other three people in the room stifled the urge to chuckle at the very unprofessional appearance of his cranium.

“Whoever he can best accomplish his task as, apparently,” he continued obliviously. “While he is there, those around him see him as the person he has replaced, while that person goes into the future and is kept in the ‘Waiting Room’ at the Project for the duration of the Leap.”

Lois leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples, not quite sure what to do with this flood of information.

“Mulder, forgive me but where on Earth did you get all this???” Scully asked.

“I read about Dr. Beckett’s theories in ‘The Lone Gunman,’ then discovered he’d actually put them to use when we met him.”

Scully tried to scan her memory for any recollection of meeting a time-traveler named after a playwright, but drew a complete blank. “We did?”

He nodded. So much for trying to jog her memory–he was just going to have to tell her straight out. “On that case in Toronto–he Leaped into Detective Schanke.”

“He did? Mulder, what are you talking about? That was probably one of the most normal cases we’ve ever had!”

That prompted a torrent of suppressed laughter from her partner. “No it wasn’t, Scully, believe me! You just weren’t allowed to remember it.”

“I wasn’t allowed to remember?”

“I’ll explain later,” he assured her, turning back to the now very puzzled but curious Lois and Clark.

“Yes, you’ll have to do that,” Lois interjected with a smile.

Mulder groaned silently. He should have known better than to bring up that case in front of two reporters, especially two that knew there were unusual things in the world.

“Do you have anything else?” He changed the subject this time.

Nodding, she pushed the biography and her notes over to him. The agent only afforded a cursory glance to the biography. “Can I hang on to this for a while and read it in the car?” They nodded, and he turned his attention to the notes written in Lois’s clear hand.

He whistled, impressed. “You actually managed to get into the Project’s computer system?”

Clark shrugged. “It’s not too hard when you can go through possible passwords faster than the system can boot you out.”

“I imagine. Wish I could do that.” Mulder flashed his partner an offbeat smile, which she echoed. Yes, sometimes it would be nice to be able to beat the system they were fighting like that.

“I don’t suppose you would happen to know who Ziggy is, would you?” Lois commented wryly.

To their surprise, he nodded. “The artificial intelligence computer that runs the project.”

“*Ziggy* is the computer??”

“Yep.” Mulder picked up the bio again and flipped through it to see how many pages long it was.

“Kind of a funny name for a computer,” Clark commented.

“Kind of a funny name for anyone,” his fiancee added. “Or anything for that matter.”

“So what do we do now?” Scully asked. In the back of her mind, she was still trying to unravel the puzzle Mulder had handed her. How could she not be allowed to remember a case? Besides, she did remember it, and nothing remarkable had happened…had it?

“Well, we could try to find the warehouse this was stolen from,” her partner replied, grinning at her.

She responded with a glare, knowing full well that this was what he’d wanted all along. Of course, neither of them had expected it to fall into their laps like this.

“Do you know where it is?” he asked the two reporters.

Clark nodded hesitantly. “I have an idea…there is a warehouse around here where Trask was keeping my ship and some other things related to Project Blue Book. But I think it’s been cleared out by now.”

“Well…” Mulder stood and picked up his coat. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Metropolis

“Any luck?” Clark asked, glancing over Lois’s shoulder at her computer.

“Well, sort of. I found a biography of Dr. Samuel Beckett fairly easily, thought it hasn’t been updated for at least three or four years.” She pointed to the papers streaming out of the printer. “But Project Quantum Leap seems to have a security system a mile thick. I couldn’t even figure out the first password, and I’ve been trying for an hour! I’ve been booted out of the system twenty times!”

The frustration in her voice rose as she spoke, though she somehow managed to keep from speaking loud enough to attract attention.

“Here, let me try it,” Clark suggested. Relieved, Lois stood and let him take over at the keyboard. With a furtive glance around the room to make sure no one was looking, he began to type at super-speed. It took him only five minutes to bypass four security levels. At the fifth level, he entered the UMBRA number, and they were in. “How’s that?”

“Helpful,” she replied with a grin. “It sure is going to be handy having you around the house.”

He smiled and nodded in the direction of the screen. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

A string of words appeared across it. THIS PROJECT IS CLASSIFIED. HOW DID YOU GET CLEARANCE?

Lois tapped Clark on the shoulder and re-seated herself at the computer as soon as he stood. She thought for a moment. HOW ABOUT THIS? she typed. I’LL TELL YOU IF YOU ANSWER A FEW QUESTIONS FOR ME.

There was a brief pause. WHAT TYPE OF QUESTIONS?

She smiled. WELL, WHO ARE YOU, FOR EXAMPLE?

THAT INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED. CALL ME ZIGGY.

“Ziggy?” Clark asked, amused. “What kind of people does this Project employ? First Gushie and now Ziggy.”

WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHO ARE YOU? ‘Ziggy’ asked.

Lois hesitated.

“You did agree to trade information,” her partner reminded her.

She nodded. MY NAME’S LOIS LANE. I’M A REPORTER FOR THE METROPOLIS DAILY PLANET.

I SEE. There was another short pause. INTRIGUING.

The two reporters exchanged a curious glance. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m even intriguing over the Internet,” she remarked wryly.

I HOPE YOU REALIZE I AM NOT AT LIBERTY TO SPEAK TO THE PRESS, DUE TO THE HIGHLY SENSITIVE NATURE OF THIS PROJECT, the screen continued.

WHAT IF I PROMISE YOU THIS WILL BE OFF THE RECORD?

IT WOULD NOT MATTER. IF YOU ARE CONTACTING ME REGARDING A STORY IN ANY WAY, I CANNOT SPEAK TO YOU, EVEN IF MY COMMENTS WOULD NOT BE QUOTED. NOW, PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU MANAGED TO ACCESS MY SECURITY GRID. AND WHO GAVE YOU THAT UMBRA CLEARANCE CODE?

Lois sighed. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this Ziggy person. LOOK, I KNOW YOUR PROJECT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH TIME TRAVEL AND INVOLVES DR. SAMUEL BECKETT, THE NOBEL-PRIZE WINNER FOR PHYSICS OF A FEW YEARS AGO. ALL I WANT IS A LITTLE MORE INFORMATION TO SATISFY MY OWN CURIOSITY. IF IT’S THAT IMPORTANT TO YOU, I WON’T DO A STORY ON IT.

If it were possible for a computer screen to look startled, this one would have. WHERE DID YOU GET THAT INFORMATION?

A TAPE DATED MAY OF 1966. IT WAS PART OF A FILE FROM PROJECT BLUE BOOK.

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

“This from a Project dealing with time travel?” Lois commented with a smile. She began typing again. WELL, HOW DOES THIS STRIKE YOU? She listed the information they had gotten off of the tape, including the clearance code. THE DATE MAY 1, 1999, WAS MENTIONED, IF THAT’S ANY HELP.

“Don’t you think you’re giving him a little too much?” Clark asked. “If you tell him everything he wants to know, he won’t have any reason to keep answering your questions.”

“I don’t think he would answer them anyway,” she responded. “This way I might be able to get a reaction out of him, at least.”

There was a long, perhaps thoughtful pause on the other end. DO YOU STILL HAVE THIS RECORDING? Ziggy finally asked.

WHY? Lois hedged.

BECAUSE IF YOU DO, I WOULD ADVISE YOU TO DESTROY IT IMMEDIATELY AND FORGET YOU EVER SAW IT. IF NOT…FIND IT AND THEN DESTROY IT.

“That sounds kind of like what the man who gave me the tape said–that it should never have existed,” she commented. “But why destroy it? It seems to me that time travel could be something very beneficial.”

“But in the wrong hands it could be deadly.”

Lois was surprised at how quickly she found herself in agreement, and how the statement made her cold with fear. Why do I feel like I’ve learned that from experience?

“I’m still going to ask him why, though.” She reached for the keyboard.

“Hey, Lois? Clark? There’s some FBI agents who want to talk to you,” Jimmy announced, approaching them. “Think it’s about that tape?”

With a startled glance at Clark, Lois quickly blanked the screen of her computer, wincing as she realized they probably wouldn’t be able to access the Project again.

“How did they get here so fast?” she complained.

“Maybe they’re not here about that,” Clark reasoned. “I doubt they even know who has the tape at this point.”

“I hope you’re right. But what else would they be here for?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t know. All Agent Mulder said was–“

“Mulder?” the two reporters echoed together.

“Yeah…” he replied hesitantly, his expression puzzled. “You two know him or something?”

Lois rolled her eyes. “He’s been calling me at least once a month for the past two and a half years, asking about Superman.”

Clark nodded. “Me too.”

Jimmy looked disappointed. “Gee, he never called me.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Lois quipped dryly. “I just can’t figure out why he’d be showing up now of all times.”

“Ultrawoman, maybe?” the young photographer suggested.

Clark nodded. “I’d bet you’re right.”

Lois rolled her eyes. “Oh, good. This should be fun.”

“Well, are you going to talk to them?” Jimmy asked, gesturing in the direction of the dark-haired man and shorter red-haired woman in matching trenchcoats who were standing just inside the newsroom.

Lois glanced at her fiancee. “Clark?”

He shrugged. “They can’t be worse than Trask.”

She nodded. “All right. Send them over. Might as well get it over with.”

Jimmy disappeared in the direction of the two agents and Lois took the biography of Dr. Beckett out of her printer, hiding the sheaf of papers in her desk drawer. She also scribbled down a couple of interesting points that had come up in her conversation with ‘Ziggy’ so they could discuss and follow up on them later.

“Ms. Lane, Mr. Kent,” a voice said behind them. Recognizing it, the two reporters reluctantly turned. “I’m Agent Mulder. This is my partner, Agent Scully. It’s good to finally meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same, but I’m afraid I don’t take kindly to pestering,” Lois returned brusquely. Mulder’s partner smiled as the reporters both shook the offered hands.

“We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions,” Scully asked.

“About Superman,” Clark assumed with a faint smile.

Mulder nodded, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Basically, yes. You two have gotten quite a reputation as his contacts.”

“You make him sound like a spy,” Lois smiled. “Personally, I prefer to say we’re his friends.”

“So, you believe his abilities are genuine?” Scully asked skeptically.

Lois studied the other woman, surprised. Somehow, she’d expected her to be as obsessively convinced as her partner. She smiled. Do I believe his abilities are genuine, Agent Scully? Well, I’d have to say that having them myself for a while was pretty convincing…

“I take it you don’t?”

Juan Pablo’s Mexican Restaurant
Stallion Springs, New Mexico
June 9, 2000

“Admiral Calavicci! It’s so good to finally meet you face to face!”

Al scowled at the man who was extending a hand towards him. “Cut to the chase, *Governor*. We both know why I’m here, so don’t act like you want to be friends,” he said curtly.

“It’s a pity we couldn’t have met under different circumstances, then. I feel sure we could have been friends.” He smiled. “By the way, my name’s Gregor Abruzzi.”

“You have no one to blame for the circumstances but yourself,” Al replied, ignoring the introduction.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not my fault at all. Ms. Hammond helped me see that. It’s his. And that means you have the power to change it. I can’t understand why you won’t.”

“You’re asking us to kill for you.”

“So? Sam’s killed before.”

“Only when necessary, and don’t call him Sam! You of all people have no right to be familiar in any way towards him!”

Mr. Abruzzi sighed. “I can see this isn’t getting us anywhere. Won’t you join us for lunch? I brought along a couple of ladies who are dying to meet you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Wait until you see the menu. I’m sure you’ll change your mind. Come on, we have a table right back here.”

He started towards the back of the restaurant and Al followed reluctantly, cursing himself. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but find the man almost *likeable*! There was no affectation whatsoever in his manner, and if he hadn’t admitted to being the blackmailer, he would have found it hard to believe this was the same man. He must be a good actor, the Admiral concluded.

“Here we are!” Gregor announced cheerfully. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet Admiral Albert Calavicci.”

The two women sitting at the table turned to face him, and Al stopped. The older one was in her mid-forties or early fifties, with chin-length red hair and haughty eyes, while the younger was no more than eighteen, blonde and innocent. The Admiral’s face went white and any sympathy he had begun to feel for the man vanished.

The blackmailer didn’t seem to notice, but went on with the introductions. “This is my partner, Zoë Hammond, and my daughter, Alia.”

“She’s…your daughter?!” Al croaked in disbelief.

“Yes. Why, is something the matter?”

The Observer’s expression darkened. “You bastard!” he hissed. Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply and stormed out of the restaurant.

“What was that all about?” Gregor asked puzzled, watching Al’s retreating back.

Zoë smiled, amused. Unlike her partner, she had a suspicion regarding what the Admiral had reacted to, but had no intention of sharing that knowledge. “Something tells me our chances of getting what we want just went up.”

Back at the Project

“That son of a bitch!”

Donna’s eyes widened watching Al storm into the Project, trembling with barely contained rage. His face was clouded with anger.

“I take it the meeting didn’t go well. What happened?”

“She’s his daughter, that’s what happened!”

“Who is?”

“Alia!” he spat. “How could any man with a shred of compassion in him do that to his own daughter?!?!”

Dr. Alessi sat down hard. “Oh my…you don’t mean–”

“They TORTURED her, Donna! The reason she did what she did was because she was tortured if she failed! How could her father do that to her?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Al.”

The Admiral was almost crying. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents!”

“So what are you going to do?”

“What else can I do but keep trying to stop him? I just pray she never went home, if that’s what she had to go home to.”

The phone rang. Al swore under his breath. “If that’s him again, I swear I’m going to kill him! I don’t know how, but I’ll kill him!”

“Admiral, Senator Weitzman is on the phone,” Ziggy’s voice came over the intercom. Admiral Calavicci glanced at Donna in surprise. The Committee had been relatively unobtrusive for the past three or four years. There was, of course, the annual funding review, but that had been fairly easy ever since Sam’s Leap put Dianne McBride in the chair position. What could Weitzman possibly be calling about?

“Put him through, Ziggy.”

A moment later the Senator’s image appeared on the vid-phone screen. Al hit the speaker button.

“Doctor Alessi, Admiral Calavicci, you’re looking fairly well. How is everything?”

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

“Oh, yes. I heard about your little problem. I’m surprised you haven’t dealt with it already. You are somewhat familiar with blackmail after all.”

There was a slight bitter edge to Weitzman’s voice, and Al did his best to conceal a smirk. Well, that’s what he got for trying to take him off the Project.

“As you may imagine,” the Senator continued, “the Federal Government is not pleased with the idea that one of their top secret projects is being blackmailed. There’s a move to cut funding.”

Al and Donna exchanged a worried glance. “And what kind of support does this motion have?” she asked.

“A lot, including mine, I might add. Dianne’s supporting continuation, as usual, but there’s still a very good chance it will carry.”

“But they can’t cut funding–Sam’s still out there!” Al protested.

“You know there are some members of the Committee who were never convinced he was ‘out there’ to begin with. And with this new threat…well, much as we would hate to lose a mind like Sam Beckett’s, it may be a small sacrifice compared to the *potential* loss.”

“But I told you, Sam’s going to fix this! You can’t give up on him!”

“Well, I’m not the only one you have to convince. Even if we do cut funding, you may have a chance, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a private company that’s offered to take over the Project. Owned by some guy named Abruzzi and his partner, a Ms. Hammond. Apparently they turn a pretty good profit, because they actually would be able to cover this place’s outrageous running cost. Albeit on a tighter budget. And they will want to revamp a few things around here.”

The look on Al’s face made it clear to Donna that Weitzman’s suggestion was not a good one. “Do we have any other options?” he asked faintly.

“Well, if the motion carries, you can shut down, in which case they’d probably buy you out anyway.”

“Well, thank you for letting us know.”

“Just doing my job, Admiral.”

The connection was terminated.

“Ziggy,” Al said slowly. “What are the chances that Abruzzi will take over the Project and ‘revamp’ it to use for his own purposes?”

“There is a ninety-eight point six percent chance that the motion to cut funding will carry, and Mr. Abruzzi and Ms. Hammond will carry out their threat.” The computer sounded worried.

“Do you mean the blackmailer is the same man who’s offered to buy out the Project from the Government?” Donna asked incredulously.

Al nodded grimly.

“But how could they get Ziggy to do all those horrible things?”

“If the Project is ‘revamped,’ in Senator Weitzman’s words,” Ziggy explained, “There is a high probability that they will wipe my memory banks and reprogram me.” All of the computer’s usual smugness had disappeared in her concern for her own survival. “Admiral, you and Doctor Beckett must stop these people! If you don’t, I will essentially die, and what is left of me will become Lothos.”

Washington

“Have you noticed how strange Mack Sherman’s been acting lately?”

Dana Scully turned to stare incredulously at her partner, her winter coat in one hand. “Mack Sherman? The janitor?”

Mulder nodded, reaching for his own coat. “I caught him carrying on a conversation with thin air earlier today, when I went to get that stain off my tie.” He shrugged it on and turned to help her with hers.

“So? The man’s nearly seventy-five and works alone. Why shouldn’t he talk to himself?”

“But that’s just the thing. He wasn’t talking to himself. He was talking to someone named Al. Someone who, I might add, was standing IN the wall.”

Scully sighed and started out the door with Mulder close behind her.

“So he’s a little old to have an imaginary friend. Your point?”

“He wasn’t an imaginary friend.”

“I’m dying to hear what you *do* think it was.”

“A ghost?” Mulder regarded her as if waiting for the inevitable disagreement. He’d been hoping the comments he was making would jog her memory, but so far had been unsuccessful. Too bad he couldn’t just tell her outright what had happened, but he knew she wouldn’t believe a word of it. She’d probably think he’d lost his mind.

Mulder’s mouth turned up a bit in amusement at the thought, and Scully found herself wondering once again how the man could look so sincere and so mischievous at the same time.

She shook her head in disbelief. “Are you trying to tell me you think Mack Sherman is a medium?” By this time they had reached the elevator and Scully pressed the ‘up’ button. “That’s a bit of a leap, don’t you think, Mulder?”

Interesting choice of words, considering she didn’t remember. Well, he’d just have to keep trying.

“Not really. Take a look at this.” He held a sheet of printer paper towards her as the doors slid open and they stepped inside.

“What is it?”

“An e-mail message I got.”

Reluctantly she took the paper and perused it. “Okay, so one of the warehouses you would love to dig through was broken into by some scientist. What does that have to do with Mack Sherman?”

“Actually, Scully, it says the warehouse was broken into by someone Dr. Beckett’s security clearance. Sam Beckett himself disappeared some time last year.”

“Disappeared is not necessarily synonymous with dead.”

Mulder had a secretive smile on his face. “I know. But from what I know of his disappearance, he wouldn’t be able to use it himself, strictly speaking, even if he is still alive.”

“What DO you know of his disappearance?”

“Not much. Only that he was working on a Top Secret time travel project for the government at the time, and his colleagues say he is now traveling through time borrowing other people’s lives and faces.”

“I’m not going to even ASK where you got that information or whether you did anything to verify or clarify it. I still don’t see the connection.”

“Well, the connection is that Mack Sherman was talking about a warehouse when I caught him talking to himself.” He jabbed at the paper emphatically with his finger. “THIS warehouse. And from the sound of what he was saying, he was the one who did the break-in.”

“Why would Sherman risk his job by using the security clearance of a missing scientist to break into a top secret warehouse, Mulder? What does a janitor need with government secrets?”

“Scully, the tape that was stolen was from Project Blue Book, back in the sixties. Don’t ask me how, but it must have been somehow connected to this Dr. Beckett.”

“Even if it was, that still doesn’t give Sherman a reason to take it.”

“People do things without reasonable explanations all the time, Scully.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, but unless you can give me either proof that Sherman broke into this warehouse or a better reason he would want to, I don’t believe it.”

“He said he did, Scully, doesn’t a confession count as proof?”

“How do you know he wasn’t putting on an act for your benefit? To get attention? You do have a bit of a reputation, Mulder.”

“He couldn’t have been putting on an act for me hen he didn’t know I was watching.”

“You were spying on him?” The elevator door slid open and she stepped out into the lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, with her partner close behind.

“People don’t usually talk to ghosts in public, Scully. If he’d known I was there, he probably would have waited until I left.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Your logic escapes me.”

“I just thought it might be worthwhile to check it out.”

His partner shook her head emphatically, exiting the building and turning her footsteps towards the parking garage. “Not now. I’ve already let you talk me into going to Metropolis to investigate Superman this week. At least you have something that looks like a case there.”

“Are you actually admitting he’s real, Scully?” Mulder’s eyes twinkled. “I thought you were firmly convinced he was a publicity stunt.”

“I still am. Movies make people seem to fly all the time–I’m sure a profitable major newspaper could afford the necessary technology.”

“What about Nick Knight?”

The stare Mulder got in response to that question was one of complete bewilderment.

“What does a Toronto homicide detective have to do with any of this? Besides, we solved that case–why bring it up now?”

It had already been pretty obvious that his not-so-subtle hints were not going to restore her memory about the earlier case, but that clinched it. If she couldn’t make the connection between Nick and flying, the vampire’s hypnotic suggestion was obviously still very much in place.

He shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were really listening.”

“Fine. Can we get going now?”

“Sure.”

The rest of the walk to the car passed in silence, and when they reached it, Scully unlocked the door and slipped into in the driver’s seat. Thankfully, Metropolis was only a couple of hours south of DC in Virginia. She wasn’t sure she could concentrate on driving if she was trying to follow Mulder’s leaps of logic at the same time.

“Oh, by the way…”

Scully buckled her seat-belt and turned exasperated eyes to her partner. “What now?”

“That warehouse I mentioned? It’s in Metropolis.”

Back in Metropolis

“All right, all right!” Jimmy raised his hands in surrender. “I just don’t understand why everyone chases me away just when they’re about to find out something interesting!”

“We need you to–” Lois began.

“I know. I know. I get the picture.” Grumpily, he turned and left the conference room.

Lois watched the departing figure with an amused expression “With that kind of curiosity, Jimmy will either make a fabulous reporter someday, get himself in a lot of trouble, or both!”

Clark smiled. “Like you?”

Lois returned the smile with mischief dancing in her eyes. “A fabulous reporter or in a lot of trouble?”

“Both.”

She nodded. “Yep, just like me.”

He leaned forward, giving her a quick kiss. They then turned their attention back to the tape, now ready to be played. Clark checked the volume to make sure no one in the newsroom outside would be able to hear it, just in case.

Lois took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s hear what Mr. Stoddard has to say.”

For a few moments after she pressed ‘play,’ there was only the soft hiss of the tape unwinding but finally someone spoke.

“May 21?” a voice asked.

“Right. Right,” a second voice replied, bordering on panic. “It hovered approximately ten to twenty meters above the ground with no apparent means of propulsion.”

“Wow! Photographic memory?” a third voice interjected.

“Could be quoting from something he read,” the first replied. “Let’s make sure.”

There was the sound of a struggle and the second of the three men uttered a faint, desperate, “No!”, followed by a brief, heavy silence.

“Let’s start with something simple. Like your name,” the first man suggested after a moment.

“Sam,” the second voice replied softly, now sounding rather dazed, probably drugged.

“Louder, please,” the third man demanded.

“Doctor Samuel Beckett.”

Recognizing the name from the file, Lois leaned closer.

“Think you gave him too much?” the third voice asked. Whoever it was didn’t seem to believe the name that had been given.

“Do you know where you are?” the first voice asked, ignoring his companion’s skepticism.

“I’m in, uh, New Mexico,” the man who said his name was Samuel Beckett replied.

Lois grabbed a notepad and quickly scribbled ‘New Mexico’ on it.

“What is the date?”

“May first, 1999.”

The two reporters exchanged startled glances. 1999?

“Tell us about yourself, Doctor Beckett,” the first interrogator continued.

“Born…8/8/53…”

“Terrific,” the other reacted incredulously. “He’s thirteen years old??”

“Or one hundred thirteen…”

Dr. Beckett was still answering their question. “Father’s name, John Samuel Beckett. Mother’s name, Thelma Louise Beckett. Social Security number, 563-86-9801. Department of Defense UMBRA clearance number, 004-002-02-016.”

Lois quickly added this information to her notes.

“Did you hear that?” the first interrogator asked, his voice excited.

“It’s a coincidence. He was in the service.”

“In World War One! UMBRA is an *operative* code! Why do you need a clearance?” he demanded.

There was no answer.

“Why do you need a clearance, Dr. Beckett?” he repeated.

“My project…”

“What is your project?”

“Project…Quantum Leap.”

“Quantum Leap…” Lois muttered to herself, adding the name to her pad.

“This project studies Unidentified Flying Objects?” the other man asked.

“Travel in time!” was the sharp, almost condescending reply.

There was the sound of someone knocking on a door in the background.

“What is it?” one of the interrogators called.

“Orderly. Medication,” came a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“This patient is under private care.” The tape ended abruptly.

Clark frowned. He could have sworn he had heard something else…something on a supersonic frequency.

“Could you play it again, please?”

Lois threw him a curious glance. He tapped his ear. “I think I…heard…something extra.”

Obligingly, she rewound the tape.

“Could be quoting from something he read. Let’s make sure.”

“No! No, you bastards! Gooshie, what am I gonna do now?”

He was right! There was a fourth voice, a man’s voice, but speaking at a frequency inaudible to the normal human ear.

“Let’s start with something simple. Like your name.”

“No, Sam…”

He was apparently speaking to the man being interrogated. But why call him by name to prevent him from saying his name? Unless…no one could hear him. Did the two interrogators even know he was there?

“Doctor Samuel Beckett.”

“No…”

“Think you gave him too much?”

Clark reached for a piece of paper and began to write down what he heard. “There’s a fourth voice speaking.”

Lois looked startled. “One that I can’t hear?”

He nodded. “It’s a human voice too. I can’t figure out how he can speak at such a high frequency…”

“What is the date?”

“May first, 1999.”

“Gooshie! If I should suddenly pop out of existence, I want to leave everything to my first wife, Beth!”

Who was Gushie? And how could this conversation cause this person to ‘pop out of existence’?

“Why do you need a clearance?”

“Hang in there, Sam, hang in there!”

“Why do you need a clearance, Dr. Beckett?”

“My project…”

“Aw, no…”

Well, whoever this person was, he knew what ‘Sam’ was going to say and didn’t want him to say it. But that was about the only part of the dialogue that made sense with these comments. Clark finished writing and passed the paper to Lois. She studied it with a puzzled look on her face.

“How many people are in that room?” she wondered, trying to make sense of the bizarre side-remarks. “It’s like a running commentary from a parallel dimension or something.”

Clark nodded thoughtfully. “The man being interrogated said he was involved in some sort of time travel project…maybe they found a way to keep him in contact with his own time…like a temporal radio signal or something.”

“And somehow designed it to be only audible to him?”

He nodded. “The fourth guy definitely acted like no one else could hear him…”

“Except this Gushie person.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of that.”

Lois turned her attention back to a thoughtful study of her notes. “Let’s see what we can find out about a Dr. Samuel Beckett. And a Project Quantum Leap in New Mexico.”

June 8, 2000
Project Quantum Leap
Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

Al slammed the phone down with a curse just as Donna walked through the door. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you all right, Al?”

The Admiral glanced up, a sheepish expression coming over his face as he recognized Sam’s wife.

“Oh, sorry, Donna. I’m just a little frustrated.”

Dr. Alessi nodded wisely. “Was it him again?”

Al nodded, his eyes burning. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“Didn’t Sam get the tape?”

“Yeah. He didn’t have any qualms about taking it once he knew what was at stake. Still, if I had kept those Blue Book nozzles from getting their hands on him in the first place…” He scowled.

“But there must be a chance they could get it back, or he would have Leaped by now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“The tape and the file have to be destroyed.”

“So, as soon as he does that, he’ll Leap?”

Al shook his head. “He doesn’t have it anymore. He gave it to a newspaper reporter.”

Donna stared at him as if he’d just announced that her husband had lost his mind. “What?”

“He gave the tape to Lois Lane,” the Admiral repeated with a sigh.

“The reporter from the Metropolis Daily Planet?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

Al sighed. “Ziggy, can you find a picture of Lois Lane from around 1995 or 96?”

“Of course, Admiral. Would you like me to?” the computer asked innocently.

The Observer glared. “Ziggy!”

A moment later the screen of Al’s office interface with Ziggy was filled with the image of a young woman with short dark hair and expressive chocolate eyes. He turned the screen to where Donna could see it.

Dr. Alessi’s face paled. “I see,” she replied softly.

“They say everyone has a double…” Al commented.

“Mine just happens to be fifteen years younger than me,” Donna commented wryly. “She looks just like I did when Sam and I first met–except for the length of her hair…”

Al said nothing.

A look of sudden hope crossed her face. “Al, does he know–?”

He shook his head. “He still thinks you never showed up.”

Donna bit her lip to hold back the tears and nodded. “What does Ziggy say Lois Lane did with the tape?”

Al frowned. “She doesn’t know, or if she does she’s not talking. All she’ll say is that this guy still gets his hands on the tape, which…” He indicated the phone. “I had already figured out for myself.”

“Do you think he’ll actually carry out his threat?”

A picture of Alia flashed briefly through Al’s mind and he nodded. “I think Ziggy would give that a 100% probability.”

Blackmail was something neither he nor Sam had expected when they began Project Quantum Leap. Of course, they couldn’t have known that Sam would accidentally leave evidence of his Leaping in the past, evidence that this man who called himself ‘The Governor’ was now threatening to use for his own ends, ends that they had already seen the possible results of.

Donna sank heavily into a chair, her bearing reflecting the anxiety they were all dealing with as a result of this unexpected threat.

“Why is he doing this, Al? Why does he want Sam to kill for him, and why is it so important that he’ll go so far as to do it for himself if we won’t?”

Al sighed. “I don’t know. Apparently this man ruined his life in some way and he either wants revenge or to prevent it from happening. I’m not sure which.”

“What did he want this time?”

“He wants to meet with me. Prove to me that he can do what he says he will. And there’s no way I’m going to tell him I already know he can!”

She looked puzzled. “You do? How?”

Al looked uncomfortable. “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t tell you much about those Leaps, did I?”

Donna laughed softly. “I can always tell when Sam falls for someone during a Leap, because they’re just about the only ones you don’t describe in great detail.”

“Is it that obvious?”

She nodded, a sad smile on her face.

“Well, let’s just say this time it was another Leaper.”

“ANOTHER one?”

“Her name was Alia. Don’t ask me how she did it–she was definitely too young for half of those Leaps to be within her lifetime. Apparently, she was from another Project, only her task was to make things go wrong. Sam Leaped in to stop her, but she made him believe her mission was the same as his, and almost got him killed. Because she chose not to kill him though, everything she had caused to go wrong in the Leap was undone. The next time they met, Sam took it upon himself to rescue her from her Project by taking her with him.”

“Taking her with him? What do you mean, Al? Taking her where?”

“He took her with him when he Leaped. Since they were able to see each other once they touched, he figured that maybe if they were touching when they Leaped, they’d Leap together, and since he’d succeeded and she hadn’t, he’d take her with him.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. But Alia’s Observer Leaped to try to find her and bring her back. It got pretty complicated for a while, and we lost track of Alia in the end, but at least the other Project did too.”

“So she’s lost in time somewhere? Leaping around by herself?”

Al nodded, and Donna shook her head somberly. “That poor girl.”

“So we can’t just refuse to give in to his threat. We have to stop him.”

She nodded. “I hope we still can.”

“Oh, we can. I’m sure of that. It’ll be a lot more complicated than we originally thought, I expect.” If things kept following Murphy’s Law the way they had been, it would definitely be complicated. “But we’ll do it. Somehow.”

FBI Headquarters
Washington DC
January 24, 1996

Scully was right. The cocktail sauce wasn’t terribly obvious, but considering how much he had paid for this tie, it would be nice to get the stuff off it before it could stain.

There was a ‘closed’ sign outside the door of the restroom, but Mulder ignored it. Most of the agents seemed to disregard Mack Sherman’s work hours but he had never heard the janitor complain, or seen him be unable to work around whoever was in there.

“Would you quit sneaking up on me like that!”

Mulder stopped in the doorway, startled. I’m sorr–

“And get out of the wall–” Sherman continued. “You look like a hunting trophy with just your head poking through.”

The old janitor had his back to the door, so he couldn’t have seen the agent come in, and even if he had, the younger man didn’t have his head sticking through the wall like a hunting trophy. What on earth was he talking about then? And to who? Mulder noticed that Sherman seemed to be staring intently at something or someone straight in front of him, though there was no one there.

“Where have you been?” Mack demanded of the air.

Mulder, with a ‘this-can-wait’ glance at his tie, eased the door almost shut and pressed his ear to it.

“Just because his nickname is ‘Spooky’ doesn’t mean you have to try to spook him. And why are you talking about him like you’ve met before?”

The agent grimaced automatically at the sound of the hated nickname, even as he wondered who was trying to spook him, and how.

“Michael Blake could see you, remember, Al? In case you didn’t notice, Agent Mulder can’t.”

Al? Memories of a bizarre murder investigation in Toronto swept into Mulder’s mind. He leaned closer, excited. Could this be…?

“He couldn’t before? Al, what are you talking about? HAVE we met him before?”

If you’re talking to who I think you are, we have…and I admit, I couldn’t see him.

“Whatever. So what about the tape? What have they done about that?”

Who was supposed to do what with what tape?

“They called the Project? What did Ziggy tell them?”

Project? Ziggy? This really WAS beginning to sound like–

“Didn’t it occur to him that I would be able to use my own clearance if I’d Leaped back to this time?”

Ah ha! It WAS the time-traveler!

“I’m tempted to call the Project and tell Ziggy that it WAS me. If I told her what I ‘stole’ from that warehouse–Oh, wait. They don’t even know it exists yet, do they? That Leap hasn’t happened yet for them, er…us.”

Something about this half-conversation was beginning to sound strangely familiar beyond the fact that the man he’d met as Don Schanke, was now inhabiting the life of Mack Sherman. The words ‘tape’ and ‘warehouse’ had set off a bell…somehow connected TO Sam Beckett… He searched his eidetic memory for the link.

“We’re not going to get away with this, Al. I’ve messed up the Leap. Not only is the tape not going to be destroyed, but I’m going to end up ruining Mack Sherman’s life in the process!” Sam sounded defeated, like a knight who’d taken on a giant only to discover it was a phantom and the real giant had devoured the damsel in distress when he wasn’t looking.

“Well, what happens when the come to me demanding to know how I got a hold of the clearance? What do I tell them? I really doubt they’re going to believe the truth and Mack’s bound to lose his job if they think he’s been prying into government secrets. He *is* only a janitor.”

What was so important about this tape they were talking about? He knew Sam, well, enough to know that he wasn’t the sort of man to risk someone else’s happiness for himself. This tape–apparently something Top Secret–must be incredibly important for him to risk hurting Sherman’s future for it.

“Well, go back and see if you and Ziggy can come up with something I can do to save Sherman’s job. Since I’m finished here, I guess I’ll go clean the Ladies’ room–and no, you may *not* come with me!”

Chuckling, Mulder backed quickly away from the door and ducked out of sight, heading back to the office. To waive questions he decided to take off the tie rather than explain why he hadn’t cleaned it. He couldn’t wait to talk to remind Scully about that even-more-bizarre-than-usual chapter in their lives.

He was stopped short by a disappointing memory. Nick, the vampire cop, had hypnotized Scully into forgetting about the case’s supernatural elements in order to protect her from the Enforcers. He had meant to do the same to Mulder, but he had turned out to be a Resister (much to his delight). So, although Scully still remembered going to Toronto to help out with a murder investigation, she had completely forgotten the vampires, Immortals, aliens, time-travelers and other strange folk they had met there. Which suited her naturally skeptical mind just fine.

Mulder sighed. Oh, well. It looks like Sam doesn’t remember us either. And if he did, he’d obviously have too much on his mind to– Suddenly, the connection he’d been looking for snapped into place. The warehouse–I knew it sounded familiar! Could it be the same one…?

January 24, 1996
Daily Planet Newsroom
Metropolis

No one paid much attention to the old man who slipped into the Daily Planet Newsroom with a manila envelope tucked under his arm. No one, that is, except the ever-curious Lois Lane. She watched him for a few moments without speaking, intrigued by the mysterious envelope and the nervous, chagrined expression on the man’s face. Her eyes followed him as he turned to stare fixedly at something or someone behind him. What ever the old man saw (or didn’t see) caused a great deal of tension to flow out of his posture. His shoulders relaxed, and the arm that had held the envelope tightly to his side now fell to his side. Sensing a possible story, Lois moved quickly to intercept the stranger, coming up behind him.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

He spun, his face taking on a look of surprised, hopeful recognition. “Donna?”

“No, my name’s Lois Lane. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Disappointment seemed to sweep over his face. “No…well, could you take this?” He threw a sharp glance over his shoulder, and shrugged, then held the envelope toward her. Puzzled by his strange behavior, she took it.

“Yes of course, but what is it?”

“Something that should never have existed,” he muttered. The stranger turned and began to walk quickly toward the open elevator.

“Wait!” Lois called after him. “Can I ask you–“

The elevator doors closed behind him before she could finish her sentence.

Frustrated, Lois turned her attention back to the envelope. It was unmarked, and sealed with duct tape at both ends to prevent it from being opened. Feeling the envelope to try to distinguish its contents, Lois deduced that whatever-it-was was round, three to four inches in diameter, and less than an inch thick.

A film reel, perhaps? Or a petrie dish? Curiosity battled weariness as she pondered the man’s cryptic description of his strange gift.

Lois heard footsteps behind her, and glanced back to see Jimmy approaching.

“You got a package?” he asked.

“Yeah…I guess so.”

“Who from?”

“I don’t know. Someone just walked in, handed it to me, and walked out.”

The young photographer studied the envelope in her hands curiously. “Do you know what’s in it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did the guy who gave it to you say anything?”

“Only that it should never have existed.”

He grinned. “Cool! Let’s open it and find out!”

“Find out what?”

Clark had joined them, his own curiosity piqued by watching them examine the envelope.

Lois held it up. “What’s in this that shouldn’t exist.”

“Huh?”

“Some guy walked in here and handed me this. When I asked him what it was he just said it was something that shouldn’t exist.”

“If it’s something that shouldn’t exist, don’t you think maybe this guy doesn’t want a lot of people knowing about it?”

Jimmy’s face fell. “Aw, c’mon, CK!”

“Maybe,” Lois hedged, “or maybe he wants the public to know about something that was being done behind their backs.”

“Lois, it could be something dangerous.”

“Why would he bring it into a newspaper office and hand it to a reporter if he wanted to hide it?” she countered, striding back to her desk, opening a drawer and hunting for her scissors.

“Because he didn’t know you were a reporter?”

Lois only afforded Clark a brief, skeptical expression, then turned her full attention back to the package, attacking the duct tape with the scissors. As soon as it broke, she dumped the contents onto her desk.

There was an uneasy silence as Lois picked up the reel tape in one hand and studied the sealed file beneath it. Across the tope were scribbled the words “Blue Book: Case 145-PQ” and the folder was stamped with a bright red “Classified: TOP SECRET!”

“Project Blue Book…” she murmured. Clark looked suddenly antsy. Lois glanced at him, reading the nervousness in his face, then with a grim smile turned her attention to the label on the tape.

“‘Sodium Pentathol interrogation of Maxwell Stoddard, age 79, UFO witness. May 24, 1966.’ Sodium Pentathol…that’s truth serum!” She turned to the younger of the two men, whose interest in the mysterious envelope and its contents had made him virtually oblivious to everything else, including her fiancé’s apparent unease.

“Jimmy, do you know if we have the necessary equipment to listen to this?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ll go look.”

The photographer disappeared in the direction of the supply room, and Lois turned to Clark.

“Do you think it has something to do with you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “It’s about the right time of the right year…”

She nodded. “If there’s anything incriminating in the file, I’ll figure out some way to keep Jimmy away from the tape.”

He nodded and Lois went back to the file. Breaking the seal with her fingernail, she opened the folder and began to leaf through the papers.

“Clark…look at this! This can’t possibly have anything to do with the tape!”

“Why not?”

“Because this doesn’t say anything about UFOs. It’s about…time travel!”