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Seacouver, January 1998:
As the famous blue light faded, Sam Beckett found himself standing in front of a dead body. No, make that a decapitated dead body. Sam shuddered. The head was just a metre away from its body, the eyes wide-open in surprise, looking straight at him. 'Let's just hope I'm the cop investigating this, not...'. But his thoughts were cut off by his mind registering the feel of something heavy in his left hand, which was raised above his head...
Seconds later there came the sound of an almighty crash as Sam dropped the blood-covered sword that his new host had conveniently left behind him. Sam knew there was no doubt that whoever his host for the duration of this leap was, he was responsible for murder. 'Oh boy', Sam murmured, turning pale.
With that, as if it had suddenly decided that Sam deserved it after, the quickening finally started. Sam eyes widened as the head on the ground in front of him seemed to explode in a blast of white lightening. As tentacles of lightening reached out for him, he turned tail and began to run. Too late, though, the Quickening claimed him and, routed to the spot, Sam Beckett, time-travelling mortal, lost consciousness as the powerful Quickening of a 1000 year-old Immortal hit him with full force.
Project Quantum Leap Headquarters, December 2002:
Admiral Albert Calavicci was rudely awakened from a rather nice dream about Tina - who currently wasn't speaking to him, as he'd forgotten her birthday, again. Well, how was he supposed to remember trivial things like birthdays when Sam's life was in danger, again?! With a start he realised that it was Ziggy's code-one alert that had woken him.
"Ok, Ziggy, this had better be good", he growled as he glanced at the clock. 4pm. He groaned. Why couldn't Sam for once, just once, keep 'normal' hours.
"You requested to be notified as soon as the new visitor arrived, Admiral. Our guest arrived approximately 5.7 minutes ago."
"Uh-huh. Alright, I'm coming", he replied, getting dressed.
"Why the code-one? What's the hurry?" he suddenly thought, as he made his way from his quarters to the waiting room.
"Let's just say the visitor is not exactly co-operative, Admiral", the computer replied.
"Oh".
Al Calavicci was not a man who could be surprised easily. He'd lived through Navy training, Vietnam, his true love thinking him dead and leaving him for another man, five marriages...Not to mention chasing his best friend through time for the past seven years. However, even Al had to admit he was somewhat shocked at the scene that greeted him as to entered the waiting room.
The visitor, who had only been there for six minutes, had one of the guards up against the wall, a hand round his throat and a dangerous look in his eyes. The other guard looked dazed and confused as he stood watching and wondering what to do for the best.
"I said, I want to speak to whoever you're working for", the man said, calmly, but deadly seriously.
Al cleared his throat. The man turned to him expectantly, his grip visibly loosening on the poor guard.
"I believe that would be me", Al replied, meeting the man's eyes, and almost managing to meet their intensity.
"Good", the man proclaimed.
"Now", he continued, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Since I have no idea how I got here, perhaps you could tell me. Where am I? Where is my sword? And what have you done with Richie?"
Al tried not to visibly blanch at the casual mention of swords, and wondered at the pretty remarkable calmness and lucidness of this current visitor. It was certainly unusual. And, what was with the 'so-and-so of so-and-so-a place' introduction? Didn't that sort of thing die out in the Middle Ages?!
"Well, Mr. MacLeod, I can't blame you for being curious. However, as my friends here might have told you, you're here by accident. We mean you no harm and will try to get you back home as quickly as possible. Beyond that, I'm afraid there's not much else I can tell you. As for your sword, I guess that's where you left it. And, I'm sorry, but I don't know anyone called Richie", Al replied, trying to sound affable and trustworthy, wanting to get this guy's story. Anything to get Sam started - and finished - on this one as quickly as possible.
"Uh-huh", the man replied, letting the guard go.
"So, who are you? What do you want from me?" he asked, slowly moving towards Al.
"Admiral Calavicci, Mr MacLeod".
Al yelled as MacLeod suddenly grabbed his wrist, seemed to look for something there, then dropped it.
"Not a Watcher. Still, doesn't mean the hunters aren't behind this", he seemed to mutter to himself.
"What was that for?!" Al asked, curiosity and indignation getting the better of him.
"Oh, just checking you weren't a...Oh, never mind", MacLeod answered, appearing distracted. He suddenly seemed to remember himself, and turned back to Al.
"So, how did I end up here? One minute I was, erm, fencing, the next I'm here?"
'Fencing', thought Al, 'well I guess that explains the swords'.
"I've already said that we won't harm you. Let's just say you've just become part of an experiment that went a little wrong...", he replied, unsure of how much to tell MacLeod. It wasn't a problem he often had. Many of their visitors believed they were dead or dreaming, or were too out of it even know what was going on.
But, this MacLeod intrigued Al. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He didn't appear frightened, more curious, if anything, and resigned to the situation. Maybe he was planning an escape...
"An experiment? One that involves kidnapping people?"
MacLeod was wary now, Al could see it in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, we didn't want to involve you, and we will try to get you home as soon as possible. I can't really tell you any more. I have to ask you to just wait here, and co-operate with us."
"And if I don't?"
"You'll just make it harder to get you back."
"Why? What do you need from me!?"
"Just some information?"
"What kind of information?"
"Just about your life, your friends, basic stuff".
"Why, what do you know about me?!"
"What? Nothing, that why we need your help".
"I don't like this, but it looks like I have no choice", MacLeod replied.
Al relaxed, slightly.
"Ok, well, first off, where do you live?"
"Seacouver".
"So, who's Richie?"
"He's my student, we were doing some fencing practice".
"And, the date?"
"January 18th, 1998, of course. Why ask that?"
"Oh, just, you know. So, er, what do you do for a living?"
"I teach martial arts, run a dojo...Wait, the date thing, what do you mean, I know?"
'God, just how paranoid was this guy?' thought Al, 'but, how to get him off the subject?'
"It's really not important."
MacLeod laughed, but it sounded false to Al's ears.
"I'm not that old that I can't remember the date, you know."
"No, of course not", Al agreed, "Please, just forget I said anything".
The words sounded forced even to his ears.
"Fine". MacLeod smiled, and Al still got the impression he was just playing along. There was something about this guy that he just didn't get. He wasn't scared, but anxious, and not trusting one bit. Well, Al could play games as well as the next man.
"Um, this is gonna sound a little strange, but is there anything, I dunno, strange going on in your life at the moment. Things going wrong, you aren't in danger of loosing your job, no one's after you, are they. Your friends aren't in danger, are they?"
Al laughed. It would be so much easier if he could tell him more of what was going, but he just didn't trust MacLeod. His gut instincts were telling him this wouldn't be an easy one.
"What!?"
"I know, crazy, isn't it? But, just trust me for a minute".
"I'd trust you a lot more if you just let me have my sword back".
"Sorry, pal, like I said, we don't have your sword". He glanced at his watch. 4.30pm. He'd been here half an hour and had nothing to take to Sam. A name, a date, a city, and a job title. All of which Sam probably had already. His friend would be wondering where he was, and with his guy, who knew what trouble he was in. At least Sam could cope with a few martial arts classes, but...
It was then that MacLeod did the inevitable. Seeing Al look at watch he also glanced at it. 4.30. It had been 7pm when he'd left the dojo to fight Matthews. He then saw himself reflected in the watch face. Or, rather, he didn't see himself, he saw the face of Sam Beckett.
"What the Hell is going on? That's not me!"
"Oh, boy!"
"What kind of experiment is this?" Duncan asked, wonderingly.
"That, er, that's the face of Dr Sam Beckett. Right now, he's in Seacouver, looking like you, and you're here. You've, er, swapped places.."
"How? That's impossible!... Wait a minute! You said this Dr Beckett looks like me. People will think he is me?"
Al nodded.
"Damn!" Duncan swore.
"You have to get him back here. Let me get back there. He's in danger!"
"I'd love to, Mr MacLeod, but that's the problem, you see. We can't."
"You can't?"
"No. That the part that's gone wrong. Sam's stuck jumping into different peoples lives, fixing them like some kind of boy-scout doing good deeds, and we can't get him home!" Al replied, his voice escalating, his usual frustration showing when he thought of the unfairness of Sam's position.
"Wow!" was all that Duncan could say, again. Despite himself, he couldn't bring himself to really dislike this Al Calavicci. After all, he hadn't tried to harm him in any way. He obviously cared for this Beckett guy, and Duncan couldn't help but feel sympathetic for him. Must be the Boy Scout in him, he mused. However, he had to get Beckett away from his life, the last thing he needed was more mortals getting mixed up in things and getting hurt.
"Wait a minute", Al suddenly announced, unwittingly copying Duncan's words from earlier.
"What do you mean, Sam's in danger?"
"Let's just say that my life could be dangerous to someone not used to it. I have people coming after me and Sam won't have a chance against them".
"Why? What kind of shit are you involved in MacLeod?"
"I- I can't tell you that..."
"Don't try that one on me. I wrote the book!", Al snapped.
Duncan just shrugged.
"I'm sorry, but I can't risk it. I don't know a thing about you".
"Uh-huh. Well, I hope you don't mind an innocent man's blood on your hands, 'cos if anything happens to Sam, I'm holding you personally responsible. An innocent man who's more than likely trying to fix your life for you even as we speak!"