1000 ZULU 09/18/2000 LOS ALAMOS NM A white limousine drew up to the security checkpoint. The guard swallowed hard. Another VIP with the power to cut the Project's budget. One illegally-dark tinted window rolled down slowly. An attractive Vietnamese woman was driving. She extended a pass. "FIRM Director Coldsmith-Briggs, one visitor, and myself." He examined the documents. They were all in order, of course. "Welcome to the Hill. The Project offices are straight down the road from the gate. You can't miss it; there's only one road." He chuckled. She didn't. He retreated to his air conditioned guard box, feeling self-conscious, and pressed the button to open the gate. The limo sailed on through; he watched it till it disappeared into the mirages further down the road. Why did the people who wanted budget cuts always ride in limos? "Where am I this time, Al? This leap seems...familiar." "It should be. This is Eagle Lake, up by Stringfellow Hawke's cabin. Remember when you leaped into...." His memory cooperated, for once. "Caitlin O'Shannesey, yeah. But I thought we fixed everything. String and Dom weren't going to get blown up, Cait was gonna marry String and have 3.5 children...." "Well, some nozzle's been interfering again." "The evil leapers. Joy." "89% chance, Ziggy says. When word comes that String's POW brother really is still alive, somebody sets a trap. In the original history, it seems that wasn't a problem for Dom's niece and the FIRM people who ended up going after him. But now, with a smaller team on the scene, Dom and String get shot fatally and Cait and the brother barely escape with their lives. After she reunited Le Van and St. John -- that's the brother, remember -- she stuck around to help St. John run Santini Air. But she took it real hard. It also turned out she'd gotten pregnant right after she and String got married, so she had a daughter, Dominique, to raise. In the last few years things have been looking up, though, 'cause she got a part in that show you like to watch, _Special Agents_." Even Sam's Swiss-cheesed memory had no problem remembering that show. He loved it. Especially the pathologist. She reminded him a lot of...well, of someone. "Oh, yeah? Who's she playing?" "Dr. Donna Savitzky." "What? But that's Gillian Anderson's part!" "Not in this history, it isn't. The lovely and talented Miss Anderson is still an unknown actress, while Caitlin Hawke's Texas accent is known the world over. Needless to say, there are a lot of scenes where Savitzky flies a chopper...and besides, she knew both the producer and the G-woman her character's based on." Sam was stunned. "And it's still popular?" "Sure! Actually, I think I like it better this way. I caught a rerun last night, and it was great. Agent Polder had gotten himself stuck out on an ice floe, after he snuck onto this submarine with an alien bounty hunter on board, and Savitzky flew out to get him. Some tricky stunt, I'm telling you." Sam still couldn't picture it. "Sounds like you don't think we need to change back." Al turned serious. "Well, they won't let her fly on the show any more, or do her own stunts. She's getting real accident-prone on the set. The kind of accidents you have when you don't care if you live or die." "But she has a daughter!" "She's made enough money to keep her daughter all her life, and she knows her brother-in-law would raise her. So she's unconsciously trying to rejoin her husband. Or at least that's what I read in the _Midnight Star_ here," he joked. "Anyway, Ziggy thinks your mission is to make sure Archangel goes along to pick up St. John. That gives them an extra gun and a suspicious mind, so they don't get slaughtered." "Yeah, but how do I do that? And how do you pretend to be a spy? I've never done that." Al shrugged. "I've never been a spook, either." "But I have." Al felt a gun dig into his back. "Say goodbye to your friend, first. Then we're going to discuss how a hacker from this project got into need-to-know records at the FIRM, and why you feel called upon to interfere in my life, Admiral." Al snuck a sideways look and saw the gunman's reflection. He wore the same white-on-white suit and black eyepatch as the man whose face Sam was wearing. Looking incredulously from face to face, all Al could say was, "Oh, boy." "Al? Is something wrong?" Sam looked worried. Damn. What to say? "Uh, nothing, Sam. Just having a few technical difficulties." Like being held at gunpoint. "I better get back to you." Sam punched a button, and the image of Sam disappeared. "Very good, Admiral. I'm glad you've decided to cooperate." Michael Coldsmith-Briggs, Director of the FIRM. Probably one of the top ten people on the planet you didn't want mad at you. And guess who he's mad at? Al looked disgusted. "I don't think choice had much to do with it." "May I remind you that you started this?" "That wasn't my choice, either." Al couldn't believe how unfair this all was. "Here's Sam trying to do his best for you, and here you go attacking me! If you only knew...." "Then tell me, dammit!" The icy voice turned hot with anger. "Tell me what you people are doing here. Tell me why you're interested in an obsolete FIRM project. Tell me now. And it had better be good." "Fine." Al drew himself up. "Come on. I'll give you the briefing. You're cleared for it." "Just like that." "Just like that. My people are civilians -- scientists and technicians. I don't want them to get hurt. I give you my word I won't fight you, Director." The director searched his eyes. Al stared back. The director's gun suddenly disappeared into his white suit. "I'll accept your parole. Shall we go?" Al didn't know what he expected to see when he walked out of the Imaging Chamber. People gawking, probably, since a VIP had just invaded the Holy of Holies. There was a crowd, all right. And they were staring. But all their attention was focused on the redhead who stood there signing autographs. Her eyes swept to the door as soon as it opened. The director made her a sign, and she relaxed again. Al looked her over as they walked toward her -- not for the usual reasons, unfortunately -- and saw the bulge under her arm. Great. Caitlin Hawke was here and packing, and nobody had stopped her. Maybe they thought she really _was_ Agent Savitzky. The director smiled indulgently. "This'll take a while," he said. So Cait had kept up another connection to the old days. Al gave her a closer look. She was even more beautiful in person than on television. Her clothes were understated, but they had that expensive look. She was working the crowd kindly, making each of them feel special and important. Yep, she was good at this. But there were lines of pain around the same gray eyes that had been unshadowed by it when Sam wore her aura. He knew which Cait he preferred. "Could you write, 'To Gushie, with love from Dr. Savitzky?' I know that's kinda sappy, but...." Cait smiled, and her eyes were transformed. "I don't think it's sappy at all, Gushie...it's okay for me to call you that, right?" "Sure!" "Thanks, Gushie. No, I appreciate the fact that you like my character. I really like her, too." The Director said something to her, and she nodded. As soon as she'd finished signing for Gushie, she announced apologetically, "I'm sorry, folks, but we've got to get going," Everyone groaned. She looked encouraging. "Maybe I can come back and talk with you before I go, though? Would that be okay?" A jumble of voices proclaimed that it definitely would be. "We'll see what I can do, then. If I don't get back here, though, it's been real nice meeting you." She waved goodbye, and everyone waved back. She stopped a moment and looked up. "It was an honor to meet you, Ziggy. Thank you." Al groaned. They'd introduced her to Ziggy? Geez, hadn't any of them heard of security? "Likewise," Ziggy was saying. "But I can continue to speak with you as long as you are visiting," she said helpfully. "I have speakers throughout the Hill." "Really?" Cait's eyes danced. "I'd like that. I've never met anyone like you." "That is not surprising, considering that I am the only sapient artificial intelligence presently in existence. The episode 'Eurisko' to the contrary." Al groaned. Even Ziggy was a fan? Heck, she'd probably introduced herself. "She's got clearance," the Director was reassuring him. "But then, you already know that." Al groaned. He led Cait and the Director to a small room with a television and VCR, retrieved a tape, stuck it in and pressed PLAY. Then he sat down and closed his eyes. How many times had he watched this thing now? Time travel within one's own lifetime blah blah blah. When the briefing tape started to run back to its beginning, Al stood up, turned on the lights, and looked at the visitors. The Director was somehow maintaining his pokerface. Cait looked torn between anger and hope. Al chose his next words carefully. "None of this is theoretical. Sam has managed to change events before." "I know," said Cait soberly. "We've spoken before, Admiral. He leaped into me, didn't he?" There wasn't much else he could say but "Yes." "I thought so." She fell silent for a moment. "I found myself here. You asked me some questions; I thought I was a prisoner so I didn't tell you much. And then I found myself being kissed by String, and heard that I'd been doing some pretty strange stuff. You couldn't have known, but String and Michael here had been under the influence of mind control in the previous year. So when I thought I might have been brainwashed...." "You remembered." Al groaned. The Director looked reminiscent. "We did an Identikit of the man Cait saw. I recognized you. So we did a little quiet investigation, and found nothing but Project Starbright. So we assumed that whoever had hypnotized Cait had simply included your image, for some unknown reason. A member of the same organization who tried to kill String doing their best to warn us, we thought, since Cait seemed to have taken no harm from it all. We were still keeping an eye on Cait when String and Dom were killed." "And when Ziggy hacked into your system...." "We hacked back. And found a tie between you and a time travel program. Mrs. Hawke found the report of interest, of course." Al grimaced. "So here you are. Twice." The Director laughed. "I don't think you'll be getting much out of that me." "Yeah, but you know what you were up to back then, and you could tell Sam what to do to save String and Dom. ////// Sam sighed. There was definitely something going on. But he'd have to wait until Al came back to find out just what. In the meantime, he ////// "You're in love with her, aren't you." "I don't recall inviting you to comment upon my relationship with Mrs. Hawke." "I don't recall inviting you to visit Project Quantum Leap, either. So why don't you tell her?" "She knows." "Like that, huh." Al shook his head. "Kiss of death." "No. She just ignores it." He sighed. "I'm the only one left who knew her while she and Hawke and Dom were together on Airwolf and at Santini Air. I'm the only one she can talk to about the missions -- even her daughter doesn't know. And since she doesn't want to lose having me to talk to...." "You can't go on like this. Find somebody else, or tell her how you feel and bring it out in the open." Michael almost smiled. "Now, you know how much we spooks hate that." ////// From Michael's point of view, it had all started when a hacker tripped a security flag. But from where Cait was standing, it had started in Vancouver, after a long hard day on the set. Surfer Boy had called for another 'shipper episode. (Sure, Savitzky and Polder were only partners. Fine. Just like the guy on his other show wasn't psychic. Whatever, CC.) But she had been forced to call on her memories of String again, to give Savitzky's famous penetrating grey-eyed gaze the proper depth of feeling as she beheld his latest mishap. And that was what had her feeling so down. It hadn't been so bad, when Dominique had first been born. Her little girl had been so sweet that she had filled a lot of the holes left in her heart from losing String, keeping Santini Air afloat had helped her get over Dom's death, and helping St. John adjust to life on the outside and his son Le had helped her adjust to her new life, too. And it hadn't been too bad the first few years in Vancouver -- the excitement of a new job, a new city and country, and a whole new lifestyle had seen to that. She had even enjoyed pretending to be back in a partnership, having adventures. But now it was starting to get to her. All those darned death shows this season, not to mention the real-life death of Agent Pendrell, who'd been a technical consultant for the show and inspired the character of Alan Kendall.... She dreamed of String and the old days almost every night, and was surprised not to find him warm beside her in the morning. Nique couldn't fill that void. No one living could. But no matter what the tabloids thought, she wasn't suicidal. Heck, String would kick her butt if she died and left Nique like String's parents had left him. She wasn't even going to leave the series, though she'd wondered a few times if she ought to tell Chris just to let the cancer kill off Savitzky. But no. She meant to stick by her show and do her best for her fans. She just wished she wasn't so darn lonesome. Her cell phone rang, and she dug in her purse for it frantically. Finally she found it, flipped it open, and answered, "Savitzky." An unmistakable chuckle rolled into her ear. "You really get into your character." She laughed sheepishly. "I answer the phone more times on the show than I do in real life. How ya doin', Michael?" They exchanged pleasantries for a while. Michael was an uncanny judge of moods, when he wanted to be. So he did his best to help her decompress as he chatted with her. She wasn't about to refuse his he