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"Memory Addition"

A Quantum Leap Story

By Lal Soong

When Dr. Sam Beckett leaped into the bedroom, he saw his own reflection in the mirror; well, almost.

"Not my reflection...my father's," he gasped. "I get another chance to save my father!"

He smiled, marveling at his father's young handsome face, and wondered what year he'd leaped into. He couldn't remember his father looking this young. He tugged on the straps of the overalls as he'd so often seen his father do, breathing in the everyday farm smells the clothes always carried.

"Finally, a simple leap."

Sam heard the familiar swishing sound that introduced Al's arrival and turned to his friend, still grinning.

"Al, how'd you get here so fast?"

"Ziggy picked up your location quickly, because you've been here before, remember?" the project observer replied, then placed his cigar in his mouth.

"Al, I leaped into my father! I can save his life this time! I can lay off fats and cholesterol and I never could stand his smoking."

Al pushed a few buttons on the hand link to Ziggy. "Sorry, Sam, but Ziggy says you can't save your father. No matter what you do, he still dies at an early age." Al lowered the link, giving his friend a sympathetic look. "I wish you could change the odds, buddy."

"Ziggy's been wrong before. If HE doesn't want me to save my father's life..." the time traveler looked heavenward, "...then why did HE send me back home?"

"I don't know. I'll run some scenarios through Ziggy and get back to you. You may not be here to save your father, Sam, but the reason could be just as important."

Before Beckett could reply, a little girl with long brown hair entered the room, carrying a piece of paper. "Look what I drawed for you, Daddy," she said, holding the paper out to Sam.

Sam bent down to look at the girl's picture of a daddy and a little girl playing at a park, the articulate lines and coloring revealing that the girl was quite precocious. "That's a nice drawing, Katie," he told her.

The girl looked at her father quizzically. "Katie?" she asked, with both fear and confusion in her voice. She glanced nervously back and forth between the time traveler and the hologram, then took a couple steps backward.

Sam looked at his friend for guidance and without saying a word, Al punched a couple buttons on the remote control. "You leaped into your father during the year 1952. Ziggy says the girl is four-year old Sheila Beckett."

"Right," the girl said with a smile and nod of her head. "Sheila Anne Beckett. Who is he, Daddy?"

"Sheila, this is a very good friend of mine, Al. He wants to visit us for a couple days, because he can help us with a problem."

Sheila became noticeably more relaxed and moved closer to Sam and Al. "I can spell my name. Want to watch me?" She flipped the paper over, placed it on the floor and began drawing large letters across the page.

Like most children under the age of six, she could see the holographic observer. Sam wondered how closely he resembled his father, because the girl accepted him as her daddy.

"Sheila, do you have any brothers or sisters?" Sam asked, bending down to the child's level.

"Daddy, you didn't forget Tommy...and the new baby that's coming...did you?"

"No, of course not. So what do you want, a baby sister or a baby brother?"

"A boy, so I won't have to share my room with him." Sheila handed her paper to Sam, so he could look at her first name sprawled nearly illegibly across the back of her picture.

"John Beckett!" a woman's voice said loudly. "What time did you come in last night?"

Sam saw his mother's belly first, huge with child, then her head as she looked around the door. With a start, Sam realized that the baby she was carrying was him.

"Huh...huh..."

"I stayed awake late last night, listening to the wind growing stronger and stronger, waiting for you to come inside. You'll catch a cold, John. Couldn't the barn repairs wait?"

Sam cast a panicked look in Al's direction, waiting for the information he needed to answer his mother's question.

Quickly, the observer punched the link, cursed softly under his breath, rapped the instrument against his palm, and tried again. "Ah, there was a big hole in the wall of the cow barn, Sam."

"The cows would freeze if I didn't fix that hole," Sam replied smartly.

"Well, why didn't you just cover it with a piece of canvas until a nicer day came along?" she asked. "Now you'll catch a cold for sure."

"Thelma, you know I don't catch colds easily."

Sam felt uncomfortable calling his mother by her first name, but he knew his father well and felt confident he could stay consistent with his tone of dialogue....He hoped.

"Come on, then, and eat your breakfast before it gets cold. Sheila, honey, let's go to the kitchen. Mama needs to do her ironing."

The girl ran to her mother's side and accepted her warm hand as they walked downstairs.

After they left, Sam turned to his friend. "I didn't know...How?...Why?" Sam brought a hand to his head. "She dies, doesn't she?" he asked softly. Al nodded, looking away. "Why would my parents keep that a secret from me?"

Al removed the cigar from his mouth as he silently read the information from Ziggy. He glanced up at his friend, reluctant to tell him what the computer said. "Sam, she dies in a house fire...tonight."

"I'm here to save her, right?" the physicist asked, a near desperate edge to his voice.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Sam, but Ziggy says there's an 80% chance you can't save her, and that you actually leaped here to help your parents pick up the pieces." He paced off slightly, then turned and walked back to stand in front of Sam. "Your sister's death was devastating to your mom, Sam. She never spoke her name again. All the photographs of your sister burned in the fire, except the one in the downstairs hallway. Ziggy says your father kept the picture, but your mother refused to look at it...ever again."

"I never knew about my older sister because all these years my parents kept it from me."

Al's cigar nearly slipped from his mouth as obvious sympathy for his friend covered his face. He said nothing, but Sam understood him well. He sat down on the bed, his shoulders slumping as he fought against tears over the sister he never knew. With a sudden shot of hope, he looked up. "Maybe if I knew the cause of the fire, I could prevent it!"

Al slowly shook his head.

The time traveler looked up at Al, feeling hopeless, wishing his friend could transpose beyond a mere holgram. He needed more than the understanding, kind word from a friend; he needed the gentle reassurance only a hug could bring.

"Ah, Sam," he said, longing to give Sam the embrace he so desperately needed, and frustrated because he couldn't. "I'll see what else I can find out from Ziggy. You better get downstairs."

"What?" Sam asked, absentmindedly.

"Your breakfast, it's getting cold."

Dr. Beckett nodded, stood and walked downstairs as the project observer punched the button, which sent him back to their present.

I hate seeing you like this, buddy, Al thought as he pushed the button. I'll find a way... He knew that he wasnt supposed to give Sam personal information, but how could he be expected not to try when the Boss kept sending Sam back home?

Al went to talk to Ziggy, wondering if there was any more he could do besides running scenarios. He thought about finding a newspaper clipping on the fire, but at the same time, he worried that if he did, Sam could alter his life destructively.

I'll look for the clippings, he decided. But please, Sam, be careful with the information.

Sam entered the kitchen and sat down across from Tommy, who was busy in his highchair, banging away with his fork instead of eating his fried egg and toast. His mother ironed clothes while Sheila sat on the floor, drawing pictures on a piece of paper.

"Daddy, is Al going to come down and eat?" Sheila asked.

Thelma looked up quizzically at Sam.

Nervously, he smiled. "Ah, no, Sheila, Al doesn't need to eat, besides we wouldn't have enough to go around."

"It's all right, Sheila," Thelma said, smiling. "If you want your little friend to come eat, he can. Is he in the room now?"

Of course not, Mommy!" Sheila replied.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to pretend," Thelma said, looking at Sam.

"Of course not," he agreed with a suppressed grin...little friend? Too bad Al missed that one. "I didn't mean to imply that it did."

Sheila looked back and forth between her mother and Sam, but didn't say anything.

"Hurry up and finish your breakfast, John," Thelma said. "So I can wash the dishes and get on with my sewing."

While Sam ate, he watched Sheila as she drew pictures, trying to imagine the woman she would become if he could save her from the fire. Though he never knew she existed before this leap, he felt incomplete for not having her in his life.

He lifted his fork with the last bite of egg and sneezed, sending the egg halfway across the table.

"Oh, yuck, Daddy!" Sheila said, looking up from her drawing.

"I told you, you'd catch a cold," Thelma said. "Now get upstairs and back in bed."

"I need to feed the animals and milk the cows before they explode."

"I'll do that for you today."

"In your condition? Thelma, I think I can manage to do the chores. I'll rest afterward if you insist."

Sam stood, and carried his plate and fork to the sink, then removed a bucket of scraps from under the cabinet.

"Not going to smoke today, John?" Thelma asked.

Sam paused before closing the babinet door. "Ah, I ran out of cigarettes. I'll have to go into town for more later." He grabbed an empty wire basket setting on the counter, and headed for the door, sneezing again as he reached for the handle. He hesitated, sensing Thelma's despondency, but continued out to the back porch. He set the bucket and the basket down, grabbed his coat and put it on. Ready for the cold outdoors, he picked up the bucket and the wire basket and walked outside toward the pig sty.

The pigs greeted Sam with loud snorts, quickly gobbling up the slops from yesterday's meals that he dumped into their trough. He set the bucket down and headed for the chicken coop, where he gathered the eggs, placing them inside the wire basket. That done, he fed the chickens from the fifty pound bag of grain by the doorway.

Absentmindedly, he rubbed his runny nose across the sleeve of his coat. His chest tightened, and a headache seemed to course throughout his body, pounding at his temples. Unable to concentrate, he left the basket of eggs setting on the floor inside the coop and went to feed and milk the cows.

Sam managed to dump a bag of grain in the cows' feeding bin without spilling too much of it onto the barn floor. Grabbing a milk pail from the bench, he entered the closest stall. As the first squirts of milk fell into the pail, he heard Al make his reentry into 1952.

"Sam, Ziggy says that you can't prevent the fire, because it would change your destiny."

"Wouldn't that make it a better destiny?"

"Maybe, maybe not. We don't know how it would change your life."

Sam stopped his milking and turned toward his friend. "How could saving my sister's life alter my destiny for the worse?"

"If you prevented the fire, your birthday would change by about twenty-one days. Your mother went into labor three weeks early because of the stress caused by the fire. Ziggy's information on the fire was sketchy, so I went to the library and found this newspaper clipping." Al nonchalantly held up a photocopy of a very old newspaper clipping, so Sam could read the details.

"Al! You really did that for me?"

Excited, Dr. Beckett reached for the clipping, only to have his fingers pass through the holographic paper before he remembered it was with Al in the imaging chamber and intangible to him.

"Even if you wanted to, Sam, you couldn't prevent the fire. They never determined the cause. Your sister died because your father panicked and couldn't get back inside the house to help her get out."

"Al, the solution's simple. I'll tell my mom we need to take a trip to buy a part for the tractor, then we'll be out of town when the fire starts."

"Your mother would never agree to go. Very pregnant women find long rides difficult."

Sam nodded, feeling weary as the oncoming illness made his chest hurt more. "Well, I'll just tell her the truth, then," Sam replied in a hoarse voice, then sneezed. "That our house will catch on fire tonight. Just as soon as I get done milking these cows, I'll go inside and that's exactly what I'll tell her."

"It won't work, Sam. She'll never believe you, just like when you leaped into yourself. With your swiss-cheese memory you might have forgotten, but you made the rule that we can't affect our own lives. The board won't go for it. It would change your destiny."

Sam wiped sweat from his forehead despite the cold draft creeping in from outside.

"You don't look so good. Do you feel all right?"

"I'm fine." He turned his back on the project observer and continued milking the cows.

"I'll see what I can do," Al said, watching Sam with a concerned scowl. "Maybe if I explore the house, I can find the faulty wiring or whatever caused the fire." He summoned his transporter with a push of a button, stepped inside it, and disappeared.

Sam finished the milking, although it became more and more difficult as he moved from one animal to the next. Sweat poured from his forehead as though the temperature had risen above ninety degrees in January instead of below freezing. Finished, he threw hay into the long bin so they could eat before leaving the barn.

Carrying the buckets of milk back to the house proved more difficult than Sam remembered. They seemed to weigh a ton, and twice on the way he sneezed, spilling milk, most of which splashed onto his overalls.

Why do I feel so lousy? he wondered as he clumsily set the buckets on the steps and reached for the door handle.

His mother, standing at the kitchen table cutting a dress out from a pattern, turned to look at him. Sheila and Tommy sat on the floor playing with homemade stuffed dolls. Sheila cradled her doll in her arms, rocking it as though trying to put it to sleep. Sam could barely supress tears as he fought to maintain his balance. He wanted her to experience the joy of cradling a real baby to sleep.

"John, you're sweating like a horse!" Thelma exclaimed, taking the buckets out of his hands and setting them on the counter. She brought her hand to his forehead and it felt cold against Sam's skin. "I knew you'd get sick. You'll probably catch pneumonia because you insisted on milking the cows. You're a stubborn man, John Beckett. I offered to do the chores."

Sam wanted to say something, to explain the imminent danger they faced, but he felt his strength slipping away. His vision clouded and his knees trembled, threatening to deposit him on the floor. He felt his mother grab him by the arm to steady him.

"I'll help you upstairs and into bed," she said, leading him toward the stairway.

"Fire," Sam muttered.

"I know you feel like you're on fire. Let me get you in bed and I'll get you some aspirin and a wet washrag to help cool you off."

"Fire," Sam repeated, panting the word out. "Mom, we got to get out of here."

"Mom?" Thelma replied as both bewilderment and worry encompassed her face. "You're delirious, John."

"We have to go...to town..."

Leading him into the bedroom, she helped him into bed. "You can't go anywhere until you sleep this fever off." She pulled the blanket up to his neck. "Don't even think about getting up. I'll wait on you today, starting with getting you that aspirin to help bring your fever down."

"Fire," Sam tried to scream, but it came out muffled as he found himself slipping toward sleep.

Thelma stepped into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a wet rag, two aspirin and a Dixie cup filled with water. She placed the pills on his tongue, then handed him the cup. After he swallowed the pills and the water, she placed the cool, wet rag on his forehead.

"Can't stay...fire."

"Get some sleep," Thelma said, bending over to kiss Sam on his damp forehead. "I'll come to check on you later."

The remainder of the day barely existed for the time traveler. He remembered his mother coming to check on him a couple times, even feeding him chicken soup, but without enough strength to even use the bathroom, he hardly realized when night came.

A bare wire sparked in the attic and quickly burned through an old rotten board. A moment later a flame shot up, splitting the board in half.

Al had spent hours searching through the house for the cause of the fire. When he finally reached the attic, the flames had already devoured most of its walls and was working its way down the dry wooden boards.

"Ziggy, center me on Sam. Now!"

Al appeared in the bedroom where Sam and Thelma slept. "Get up, Sam!" he yelled. "The fire's already started. If you don't get out of here you'll die!"

"Don't yell at my daddy! He's sick," Sheila said as she appeared in the doorway. "He needs to sleep."

"Sheila, honey, there's a fire in your attic. Everyone needs to get out of the house. Can you wake up your mommy and tell her about the fire?" The girl looked up, confused. "Hurry, sweetheart! It's spreading fast."

Sheila ran across the room to her mother's side. "Mommy, wake up!" she screamed.

Thelma moaned without opening her eyes. "Sheila, go back to bed."

"Mommy, there's a fire in the attic!"

Thelma opened her eyes and sat up. "Honey, I think you just--" Before she could finish the sentence, the smell of smoke began creeping through the bedroom. "Get out of the house!"

Sheila ran out of the room, downstairs, and halfway through the living room, but before she reached the front door, she heard her litle brother screaming.

"Tommy!" she exclaimed, turning toward the stairs.

She choked on the thickening smoke, which slowed her progress up the narrow steps. The night blinded her, but she felt her way through the hallway and into her brother's room. Reaching the crib, she lifted Tommy out with an effort, then started toward the door, stumbling over something in the shadows. Falling to the floor, Shiela felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her leg.

"Run, Tommy! Go outside!" she gasped. "Mommy's waiting for you outside." She could hear the pattering of Tommy's little feet as he ran down the hallway. She tried to stand, but couldn't lift her right leg. She began crawling across the floor, hoping to find the door.

"Oh, God, Joh, please wake up!" Thelma screamed as she roughly shook Sam.

Registering his mother's voice as separate from his dream, Sam opened his eyes, barely able to see her outline in the dark. "What?" he mumbled.

"A fire. We have to get out of here."

Sam came fully awake, realizing the moment of his sister's death was drawing near. "Where are Sheila and Tommy?" he demanded.

"I sent Sheila outside," she answered, heading for the door. "But Tommy's still in his crib."

Sam stepped out of bed and stumbled toward the door after her. "Get out, Thelma. I'll get Tommy and bring him to you." He rushed off in the direction of the children's bedrooms. "Tommy, I'm coming for you, baby. Don't get scared."

He heard a child's voice screaming for him, recognizing the caller as Sheila. Why is Sheila still in the house? he wondered, fear gripping him. Oh, God, she's still going to die! He leaned against the wall for a moment, the smoke searing his throat. Pushing himself forward, he fought for the strength he needed to change her destiny.

"Talk to daddy, honey, so I can find you and help you outside."

"I'm in Tommy's room, daddy! I can't get out 'cause I hurt my leg real bad."

Sam felt his way to the end of the hall, coughing as he tried to see his way through the smoke and collapsing when he pushed against Tommy's open door. He crawled across the floor, calling for Sheila, and she answered him in a desperate, hoarse voice. Finding her, he gathered her up into his arms.

"Bury your face in my shirt, so you won't breathe in the smoke," he told her. "Where's Tommy?"

"He's outside," Sheila replied.

Flames flared across the hallway, reaching for Sam with red-orange claws. Black smoke rolled through the second floor rooms and hall, and when Sam reached the stairway it was only to discover it engulfed in flames. He looked into the clawing fingers that devoured the steps in a ravenous fury and whispered, "Oh, boy." He took a step backward and for a moment forgot about his fear of heights.

"Daddy!" Sheila screamed, as part of the railing fell away, snapping Sam out of his stupor. Al appeared at the foot of the stairs, waving his arms and screaming, "Jump, Sam or you'll die!"

The scientist made it down four steps, but realized he couldn't go any further. His grip on Sheila tightened, and he took the plunge in Al's direction, landing hard, his forehead smacking against the hardwood floor. He collapsed, pinning Sheila underneath him.

"Daddy!" Sheila screamed as she forced her way out from under the unconscious physicist. "Daddy, wake up!"

"Sheila, get out of the house!" Al yelled at her.

"I can't walk. I hurt my leg."

"Then crawl!" he coaxed, bending his knees and wagging his arms as if to crawl himself.

Sheila inched across the floor, coughing as she disappeared through the front door.

"Sam, wake up!" Sam, please, wake up. Now, Sam, or you're going to die!" Al made an impossible reach for the injured man, but his hands closed on air. "I need you, buddy," he nearly pleaded. "I don't think I could stand it if I lost you. Sam, dammit, you saved your sister's life, don't die yourself, or you won't ever get a chance to know her!"

Sam moaned and opened his eyes. He could just barely make out Al's image amongst the cloud of smoke and he could hear him yelling, although his words were muffled. He blinked. It looked like Al was crying.

"Sam, if you don't get out of here the smoke will kill you!"

Slowly, Sam half-walked, half-crawled his way out of the burning house, Thelma rushing to his side as soon as he staggared off the porch, leading him across the yard to where the children were sitting in the grass. He collapsed on the ground beside them, watching as the house continued to burn.

In the distance Sam could hear the blaring sirens of an ambulance and firetruck.

"John, I think I'm in labor," she said as the ambulance pulled into their driveway.

They arrived at the hospital with Thelma already in hard labor. A nurse pulled John and the children aside while orderlies escorted Thelma to the maternity ward. A doctor arrived to check them over, and treated Sheila's broken leg, then gave Sam a prescription for her pain.

Al appeared after Sam's examination, wagging his eyebrows while the physicist hitched up his overalls. "You were right, about saving your sister," he said. "She eventually moves to Malibu with her husband, three children, and two cats. She makes a living as a pediatrician and Sam, she--"

"She saves the life of a child who died originally, Al," Sam continued, grinning broadly as he felt the memory additions of his sister flowing through him like a computer with a new set of memory chips. "Another doctor misdiagnosed the boy's illness and he died, but Sheila correctly diagnosed him, and he lived."

Al lowered the hand link and chomped down contentedly on his cigar as he continued listening. Sam could see the delight in his friend's face. "It took a couple years for my parents to get their lives back to normal. My father's insurance paid for a new house on the property, and while it was being built, we lived with my grandparents."

Sam sat down, then smiled up at Al. "Sheila always liked playing doctor. I remember when I was about four or five, I had the chicken pox and she brought out a toy doctor kit, checked my temperature and my heart rate. She was very attentive. Any child who has her for a doctor is very lucky, Al."

The project observer sighed, moved by Sam's excitement. In a way it was like a member of his own family had been saved. "You know you saved more than your sister's life," he said.

Sam looked at the hologram quizzically. "What?"

"it's like tumbling dominoes, Sam. You saved your sister's life, then she saved a little boy's life. Who knows what he might do in the future."

"Al, if it hadn't been for you, I would have died in that fire. I never would have known my older sister..." Sam trailed off, averting his eyes. "I wish...I wish I could give you a hug," he concluded.

"Ah, Sam," Al said, unable to fight back a tear. He brought his arms around Sam only to pass through him. "Well, maybe if your next leap home is at the right time."

"Mr. Beckett?" a woman said and Sam turned around to see a nurse holding a baby. "You have a new baby boy. Congratulations!" She handed the baby over to the time traveler.

For a brief moment, Sam stared into his newborn face, then he leaped.