Chapter Text

Prologue

April 2003
Albuquerque, NM

Janis Calavicci lay on her stomach on her bed, feet in the air, moving them back and forth as she listened to Alicia Keys. Her textbooks were spread out on the mattress and she was deep into the engineering class she was taking at Albuquerque Community College two times a week. Her parents had enrolled her when she was finding her high school classes too boring and it was serving to mix up her days and keep her engaged. She was close to solving an equation when her mother called up the stairs for her to wash up for dinner. Her train of thought derailed, she groaned in frustration and slammed the book shut.

Janis was the last of the four girls to still be at home in the nest; the others had gone off to college and careers and Julia was even engaged. You’d think that would mean she’d have all her parents’ attention, but that was far from the case. Not like she wanted them hanging all over her, but it would be nice if her father could make even one of her soccer games.

Janis entered the dining room and looked at the place setting at the head of the table. She shook her head and crossed to the kitchen. “Mom, why did you bother? He said he’d be home the last three nights and he hasn’t. He has his priorities.” And we aren’t it.

Mom busied herself fishing the bay leaves out of the stew she’d made. “Dr. Beeks called. She’s sending him home.”

Father of the year. Gotta be forced to come home to his family, she thought bitterly. “Why can’t he just quit?”

Mom said the same thing she always said to this question, always without meeting her eyes. “He can’t.”

“Can’t,” Janis muttered under her breath and poured lemonade from the pitcher in the center of the table into her glass. “How long did you plan to wait for him to show?” she demanded, loud enough to be heard in the adjoining kitchen.

“We’ll get started without him. Maybe he’ll join us.”

Ri-ight.

Dad had quarters at work, she knew that much. He hadn’t been home for a week and, when he was here, he wasn’t really all here. His job had always had him keeping odd hours, but he often got a few days off at a stretch, sometimes more, and he’d spend them at home with them. It made up for all the school events and games he’d missed because when he was present, he was fully present. But the last couple years had been different. Janis would swear they hadn’t had a conversation longer than 30 seconds in all that time.

And Mom just turned a blind eye. Like usual.

Janis was mad, but, deep down, she was really hurt. She’d always loved the time she spent with her father. They had similar passions: baseball, engineering, gourmet food… Mom often commented that it was the teenager in her that made things difficult between them, but that seemed a convenient excuse.

Could you have an absentee father who was physically present? Although, for the last week, he hadn’t been present in any sense of the word.

“Smells good, Mom,” Janis remarked, trying to pull herself out of her spiral. Mom often reminded her that she hurt others with her attitude, but she hurt herself most of all. It was one of those things parents said to make you do what they wanted, but Janis recognized it had the ring of truth.

“Oh, look,” Mom said and gestured to the window.

A hunter green SUV pulled into the drive, but Janis had no idea whose car it was. She watched as the passenger door opened and her father climbed out. He was in a bold blue suit, a silver shimmering shirt, and a turquoise tie and he looked like hell. He looked like he’d been wearing the suit for three days straight.

“Oh, look,” Janis echoed, minus her mother’s enthusiasm. “Dad’s home.” Dad closed the door and gave a half-hearted wave to the driver, who Janis could now see was Dr. Beeks. “Wonder what’s wrong with his car.”

Dad moved unsteadily up the rest of the drive and they heard the front door open, then close again. Dr. Beeks gave them a honk and a wave through the window and backed out of the driveway. Mom smiled and pulled three bowls out of the cupboard, handing them off to Janis. Janis sighed and accepted them, moving to fill them so she could bring them to the table.

Then they heard the crash.

Janis got to the front hallway first, but Mom was only a couple seconds behind her. The small table where they kept keys and cell phones was on its side, the ceramic bowl that sat atop it shattered on the hardwood floor. Janis noticed all this before she noticed her father, on the floor next to it.

“Al!” Mom exclaimed and hurried to his side, heedless of the ceramic shards.

Janis stood frozen, watching. Dad was awake but he looked as if he was trying not to pass out. His face was pale and she saw a faint sheen of sweat across his brow. Mom looked in his eyes and took his pulse and then pinched the skin on the back of his hand, frowning at what she saw. Janis noted the skin remained raised for several long seconds.

“Al, are you okay?” she asked, already hauling him into a sitting position. He didn’t answer. “Janis, come help me,” Mom ordered.

Dutifully, Janis took his other arm and they managed to get him on his feet, guiding him to the couch. Mom laid him down on his right side and pulled his legs up on the couch, not even bothering to remove his shoes. Then she grabbed a couple throw pillows and tucked them under his head. “Janis, listen to me very carefully. Get me some tap water and I want you to put a half teaspoon of salt and three teaspoons of sugar in it, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And then get some of the soup on the stove. Just the broth.” Mom’s voice was brisk and sharp. “And turn off the heat.”

“Okay,” she said and scurried off into the kitchen, panic making her stomach churn. It occurred to her to be relieved that her mother hadn’t told her to call for an ambulance. That meant whatever was wrong with him, she felt she could take care of it.

She made the brew her mother had ordered, her shaking hand spilling salt and sugar all over the counter, and then carefully spooned a ladle of broth into a bowl. When she went back into the living room, her father’s eyes were open, though he seemed to have no focus.

“You’re dehydrated,” Mom was telling him curtly. “Probably dizzy, too, huh? Your pulse is going a mile a minute. Thank you, sweetheart,” she said to Janis, taking the glass from her. “Al, take a few sips for me,” she said.

“Sorry, Beth,” he said finally, propping himself up on an elbow and taking a sip. He made a face at the taste but took one more. “I lost track of time. I…” He closed his eyes briefly and then seemed to notice Janis. “Hi, kiddo,” he said hoarsely.

Janis just shook her head slightly; she didn’t trust herself to speak. She put the bowl of broth down on the coffee table and then stepped back again, as if afraid of catching whatever ailment he had.

“Drink some more,” Mom said, her voice less commanding and gentler, now. “Just a bit at a time.” He obeyed and she exhaled heavily. “Al, you can’t do this.”

“I know.”

“You need fluids and food. You need rest. You’re not Zig – you’re not a machine. How do you expect to function like this?” He sat up and she held the bowl for him and stared him down until he took several mouthfuls. “You can go back when you’ve had a couple good meals and at least ten hours of uninterrupted sleep,” she told him firmly. Her tone told Janis she was bracing for a fight.

Dad put his head down on the pillows and Mom set the bowl back onto the coffee table. “I can’t go back.” He took a shuddering breath. “They shut us down.” There was something in his voice when he spoke, something she’d never heard from him before. A … sorrow, or a fear that charged the room.

Mom rocked back on her heels and put a hand to her mouth. Janis couldn’t fathom her reaction; it seemed like a good thing. Now he could stop doing this crazy job and things could go back to normal, maybe even better than normal.

“They said this was the most expensive rescue attempt in the history of this country and it couldn’t continue.”

“Al…” Mom whispered.

“I couldn’t eat or sleep or drink,” he resumed, pain in every word. “I had to use every second left to try and find him.”

Find him? Find who? Dad took his security clearance very seriously. He didn’t share anything at all about work. This was the first time he’d ever let anything slip. Mom knew what went on in that secret complex; she had clearance and did the occasional work there, but Janis suspected it was mostly to keep an eye on Dad, especially since Uncle Sam had moved away. Something had changed in him that day, too. It had been so abrupt that Janis wondered if something had happened between them to trigger the action.

“Janis,” Mom said without looking at her, “can you… Can you give us a moment?” Mom was just staring at Dad, as if waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Janis ducked her head in a small nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

She retreated to the dining room and sat heavily in a chair, but she could still hear them talking. Dad’s voice was too low to understand, but Mom’s came through clearly.

“Oh, Al … I’m so, so sorry. When did this happen?” A short pause. “It’s okay. No, sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Another pause. “I’m here. Shh. It’s okay.”

Silence fell, but it was an uncomfortable stillness. Something was very wrong. Janis rose to her feet and stood in the doorway, peering around the doorjamb.

Janis thought back. Life hadn’t always been rosy – they’d been through some very dark times as a family. When she was little, her eldest sister, Marina, was hit by a car. She’d been in the hospital for months and the entire Calavicci family had logged hours upon hours there with her. It took its toll on all of them, especially Dad. It triggered something in him, something he didn’t know how to address. Marina eventually recovered, though she still used a cane when she walked.

Not long after that she could remember times when her father would come home, obviously drunk, most nights of the week. She’d been so little, but she could remember all of it. She remembered more than most people gave her credit for. One evening, shortly after they’d met Uncle Sam and Aunt Donna, her mother had packed some things in a bag and they’d nearly left. Dad had pleaded with Mom to talk about it, and they’d disappeared into the bedroom. There had been silence for hours – no yelling, no crying, just silence and murmured voices. And they’d stayed.

Through all the rough times, Janis had never seen him cry. Not once.

Now her mother knelt on the floor beside the couch, her arms wrapped around his torso, her lips by his ear as she whispered to him. Janis couldn’t hear anything, but his body shook in the unmistakable motion of searing pain manifesting in silent sobs.

Janis hovered in the doorway. It had never occurred to her that there was something more to this story, that whatever this job was that took him away from his family at all hours, sometimes for days at a time, meant something more than a government paycheck.

Find him… Who are you trying to find, Dad?

------

Janis ended up eating alone at the table and then retreating to her room. She tried in vain to focus on her homework again, but it was a lost cause. Eventually, she heard her parents mounting the stairs and her mom’s peaceful voice came from their bedroom. Dad didn’t say anything. Another half hour passed, and she heard banging coming from downstairs, so she left her room to investigate. Her parents’ bedroom door was cracked open a few inches, and she saw her father asleep in their queen-sized bed, curled up on his left side. Mom had somehow gotten him into pajamas and some juice and another bowl of soup sat on the nightstand.

The noises continued so Janis followed it to the kitchen where her mother was pouring the cooking sherry down the drain. Three more bottles lined the counter – white and red wine and a mottled bottle of Amaretto.

Mom looked up, startled, when Janis cleared her throat. “Oh,” she said hastily, guiltily, “I’m sorry, did I disturb you? I needed something to do, so I decided to clean out the cabinets.”

Janis sat at the small breakfast table and looked steadily at her mother. “I’m not stupid, Mom. You’re afraid he’s going to start drinking again.”

Mom set the empty bottle down on the counter next to the full ones and turned to face Janis, reaching for a towel to dry her hands. “You remember that, too, huh?”

“Yes.” Janis physically bit her tongue and then changed her mind. Why shouldn’t she get to say what she wanted? This impacted her too. “Mom, why did you let him get away with that? There’s no excuse for that behavior.”

Mom regarded her sadly and then pulled a chair next to her, sitting down a couple feet away. “Janis… There are some things your father and I don’t share with you. Some because we can’t –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Janis interrupted derisively, “security and all that.”

Mom put a hand on Janis’ wrist. “And some because you just weren’t old enough. But maybe … with all that you remember, it’s time to share some hard things with you.”

Janis was on the verge of saying something angry. Something hurtful. But then she looked at her mother’s eyes more carefully and a spike of fear shot through her.

“I’ve had this talk with each of your sisters,” Mom began, “but I naively thought maybe I wouldn’t have to have it with you. I thought maybe you’d just be too young to remember what happened. This is so hard for me and I thought … maybe I’d get a pass just this once. And I wanted to protect you.”

“Mom, what?” Janis said sharply. She was starting to feel scared.

“You know your father fought in Vietnam. What you don’t know is that he was shot down and he was a prisoner of war.”

Janis felt the air pushed from her lungs. What a thing to just say with no preamble, no warning! How had she known nothing about this? She knew there were parts of Dad’s past that he just didn’t talk about, and she didn’t question that, but she figured they were probably raunchy Navy stories, too inappropriate or embarrassing to share with four young girls. “Oh,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say.

Mom drew a deep breath. “For six years.”

“What?” Janis felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was … some horrible mistake. Why was her mom saying these things? Just to make excuses for him?

Mom rubbed her thumb along Janis’ hand, gently, waiting.

Janis rallied her righteous outrage. “That doesn’t mean it’s okay to get drunk.” Mom withdrew her hand and Janis instantly felt remorse for the comment. She was still angry at Dad; she hadn’t meant to hurt Mom in the process.

“Okay, imagine something for me.” Mom paused for a long time, so long that Janis wondered if she would continue. “Imagine someone takes –” she verbally stumbled but pressed on “– a man and ties his hands behind his back. Then they … take another rope and tie it to his wrists. Then they hang him from a tree.”

Janis was open-mouthed in horror. Their parents had never tried to hide the evils of the world from them, except maybe when they were really young, but neither did they actively bring it to their attention. Having her mother do so now was uncomfortable and it made her feel as if she was floating out in nothingness without a safety net. “Mom, stop!”

But she didn’t stop.

The strength seemed to return to Mom’s voice, though Janis couldn’t comprehend how. “Sometimes, they add weights, and that makes it worse. Then they just leave him there. Too long, and it’ll kill him.” The words were clinical, measured. Janis wondered how this talk had gone over with her siblings. “It’s incredibly painful and usually dislocates the shoulders.”

Janis rocked forward in her chair, a wave of nausea passing over her. This was terrible to hear about anyone, even in the hypothetical, but to hear it as a part of her family history… She wanted to yell at her mother, but the words were frozen in her throat. Her mind painted the image but refused to put a face on the man. She just couldn’t.

“Now imagine this man comes home. And he’s safe, he’s okay. But he … dreams of it. And he can’t stop dreaming of it. And when he’s living his life and hears the screech of a tire that sounds like a person screaming, or a dog barking that sounds like a beating, he’s back inside of that life.” Mom gripped the edge of the table, but she kept going. “And he can’t make those thoughts go away, no matter what he does. Unless… Unless he can use something to make it stop.”

Then Janis understood. Dad didn’t drink because he was a bad father or a bad husband. He didn’t drink because he was irresponsible or because he didn’t care. Dad drank to forget. He drank so he could sleep without dreams. So he could make it through the day without going crazy.

Mom met her eyes intensely and Janis knew something even worse was coming. “Imagine you are dreaming of that place and someone touches you and you don’t know if it’s your darling, sweet daughter or someone coming to kill you.”

Janis was crying now because she remembered the thing that had hurt her the most when she was younger: the time her father was sleeping on the couch and she’d gone to hug him. And he’d grabbed her so tightly that when he pushed her away from him, the angle fractured her wrist. He’d apologized and held her and Mom had told him to take her to the hospital while she stayed with her sisters. He’d treated her like glass, taking her other hand as delicately as possible through the procedures. As young as she was, she’d seen the horror on his face and felt his despair. In her innocence, she’d patted his arm and told him not to be sad, but as she grew older, some part of her harbored anger and resentment at her father for that action.

Mom finally stopped talking and it was such a relief. Janis let Mom pull her into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry, honey,” Mom whispered. “I’m sorry to place that knowledge on your shoulders. But you have so much anger and I just need you to understand why things happened the way they did. And why I do what I do for him.” She kissed Janis on her head. “He lost something precious today.”

Janis leaned against her mom’s shoulder. “But … it’s just a job, right?”

“No, honey. It’s not. I’m going to stay with him night and day for a while to make sure he’s okay. And if he does start drinking, I’m going to be there for him and help him stop again.”

------

Janis climbed the stairs slowly. Her mother had held her for a while as she cried. Part of her was angry that she now had the information because she could never unknow it. She could never go back to a time she thought of him as strong and unbreakable.

She reached her parents’ door and looked in. Her father hadn’t moved; his mild snore filled the room. Janis pushed the door open just enough to slip through it. His sleep seemed peaceful, deep. Mom had said he probably hadn’t slept in days and they needed to just let him rest as long as his body would let him. She looked at him in the waning light, leaning in close and focusing on his wrist. All she saw was what she’d always seen, and some internal voice of denial whispered that her mother had been exaggerating. Then she looked at his left hand, which was palm up, at the tender skin on the underside of his wrist, and there were the marks she’d never noticed before. Slightly paler than the surrounding area, in several ragged bands.

Scar tissue.

The old anger evaporated and instead she found herself feeling fiercely protective of him.

She touched his shoulder. “Dad?” she said in hushed tones. He didn’t move and she pulled off her sandals and slid under the covers next to him, just as she’d done when she was little and was feeling sad.

He roused slightly, cracking his eyelids open, and offered a small smile. “Hi, kiddo.”

She scooted closer and tucked her head under his chin. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. He wrapped his right arm around her and gave her a little squeeze, then his muscles relaxed again and the snoring resumed.

She sniffed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t know who you are trying to find,” she whispered, lightly enough to not disrupt his slumber, “but I’ll find him for you. I promise.”

Chapter 1

April 2026
Los Angeles, CA

It was unusually warm for April, and Janis could feel the heat settling into her bones as she sat on the bench. A trickle of sweat worked its way down her back. She shifted forward and pulled her blouse away from her skin, contemplating moving to a different location, preferably in the shade. A quick survey revealed no open benches, so she sighed and sipped from her water bottle, hoping the ice-cold water would counteract the heat. She fiddled with the ring on her middle finger as she waited, a nervous habit. She’d worn the ring every day for the last five years, just as her father had worn it for years before that. Now it caught the light and she blinked, shifting her hand to the left so the beam diverted into the trees.

She didn’t get anxious easily, but she was now. Her brazen activities at Project Quantum Leap three years ago hadn’t earned her many friends, at least not at first. It may have been the Department of Defense that redlined her application back in 2016, but her mother and the director had agreed with them. She comprehended the position of the DoD: Janis was a wild card, and they liked their soldiers lined up in neat rows. The DoD liked “predictable”. Her father had been a wild card too, but he wore their uniform and that gave him more clout. She understood the DoD’s position.

Forgiving her mother had been more difficult.

Her mother said her emotions could be a liability, never once considering how Dad’s emotional involvement in the original project was a vast asset. She’d never told her mother of the promise she’d made to her father that day, long ago, when Project Quantum Leap had been shut down the first time. Maybe, if she had, things would have been different.

Now she sat breathing in the fragrance of greenery, salted with sea air, waiting to see the project director: Admiral Herbert “Magic” Williams. Waiting to ask a favor.

For three years, Dr. Ben Song had been set adrift in the time stream. There was no trace of his quantum signature, no clue that he was even alive. The new project had no Waiting Room, and so they were lacking the ability to question anyone as to his whereabouts.

Maybe that place Dr. Sam Beckett had gone between leaps had swallowed them both whole, leaving family and friends behind to mourn without closure.

And then, suddenly, he was back. Ben was back, but Sam was still lost.

She spun the ring again, feeling the metal slide against her skin, swallowing the memories of her father. She’d known him in a way her siblings never had. She’d known the man who worked himself nearly to death looking for his partner. He hadn’t started drinking, but she’d lived in the house with him while he tried to find his way back to peace and contentment, never quite succeeding.

And she’d moved back in after his second stroke, to help care for him. At least, as much as her mother would let her.

“Janis.”

She looked up, squinting into the sunlight, to see Magic looking down at her through a pair of Clubmaster sunglasses. In another life, he might have been her mentor. He was warm and kind, wise and thoughtful, and he carried with him a peace that, despite any hardships in his life, he had woven into his being. He made it look effortless, though she suspected it was anything but.

“Magic,” she returned, not as warmly. Janis wanted nothing more than to let down her defenses, but it wasn’t the way she was wired. Even when he smiled at her, warm and welcoming, she simply looked up at him, raising her right hand to block the sunlight.

He sat down without invitation, twisting in his seat to face her. He’d started seeing her mother over a year ago and, though Janis’ relationship with Magic was still tense, she was pleased for them both. Her mother had found someone else to love, someone to be a part of her life, and Magic was a good man. They both deserved happiness.

A casual observer might note that her mother obviously had a “type”: career Navy, war veteran, and a tenuous relationship with alcohol. Not to mention Director of Project Quantum Leap. But those people didn’t know her father or Magic very well. While both skilled leaders and passionate individuals, the similarities ended there. Her father had been flashy, flamboyant, fun-loving, and a little silly in a wonderful way. He was stubborn, prideful, brilliant, and a force of nature. It was hard to mistake Al Calavicci for anyone else in a roomful of people.

Magic was more reserved. He thought carefully before speaking, considering his options and listening before making a decision. He could blend into the background or stand out in authority. And he loved his team the way some men loved family – with loyalty, patience, and pride.

Actually, Janis considered, there was one other way both men were alike: they were both fiercely loyal.

“It’s good to see you,” Magic began when she remained silent. He had sat to her left so the sun was in his eyes instead of hers when they faced each other. It was a little kindness, and she knew it had been intentional. “Your mother misses you. She wishes you’d come home to visit more often.”

“Well, I’ve been busy,” Janis hedged.

“Your sisters all came at Christmas,” he said. There was no judgment in his tone, just a simple statement of fact. “We’d hoped to see you.”

Janis picked at a nail, avoiding his eyes, wondering if he suspected that she purposefully avoided the family gathering. It was still hard to be around everyone when there was so obviously one empty chair. “I heard you nearly burned the ham.”

Magic laughed and she relaxed slightly. He wasn’t her father and it was clear she wasn’t going to get a scolding from him. “It was a modest fire,” he joked. “Barely even singed the brows.”

She raised her eyes to him, brushing her bangs out of her face. She didn’t know how he did it. She wore a light blouse and cotton capris and was sweaty and uncomfortable and he was dressed in a long sleeve polo and jeans and seemed as content as if he was sitting in an air-conditioned room. Maybe it was just nerves. “I’ll stop by to see Mom while I’m still in town.”

He nodded and grinned, his white teeth flashing. “I know she’ll appreciate it.” The sun had shifted behind a palm tree and he pulled off his sunglasses, tucking them into the neck of his shirt.

“I’m glad Ben is back.”

Relief shone in his expression, the relief her father had no chance for ever again. “If it wasn’t for Ian… I don’t know how they did it without going crazy. We’re all so grateful.”

“Yeah. And … Addison is … with someone?”

He narrowed an eye at her. “You heard?”

“That Ben essentially fired Addison? Yeah, I heard.”

Again, she braced for anger, but he chuckled. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me who your mole is.”

She smiled reluctantly, especially because they both knew. Somewhere, in a drawer in her apartment in Honolulu, a small colorful box winked quietly to itself.

“How’s she handling it?” Addison Augustine didn’t like to sit still. She was probably running around in frustrated circles, driving the rest of the staff mad while she climbed the walls. She generally wasn’t shy about sharing those frustrations with others. Sometimes, very loudly.

“She’s … coping.” All the things Magic didn’t say confirmed her suspicions. “I sent her out for a night on the town with Ian and Jenn. I think Jenn served her boilermakers all night until Ian could get her up for karaoke. I hear she and Jenn do a truly terrible Islands in the Stream. I gave them my old hangover cure so they could whip it up for her this morning but I hope they made enough for their tortured audience, too.”

Janis shifted her hand and noted the blaze from the ring swept over Magic’s eye. He didn’t blink. She sighed and folded her hands, covering the keepsake with her palm. “Tom didn’t go with them?” Janis was thinking of Thomas Westfall, the man who had finally pulled Addison from her mourning when she thought Ben was dead. Janis hadn’t met Tom, but she thought his name sounded like a bad James Bond character. If Addison liked him, though, he had to be a force to be reckoned with.

“He’s in D.C. for the week,” Magic returned, leaning back against the bench and crossing his legs. She nodded and paused again. “Janis,” he said finally, “I’m glad to see you, really. But I’m curious why you wanted to meet.”

“You’re short an observer and I…” She steeled herself for rejection. “I thought maybe you’d give me an opportunity to take the job.”

He was silent, running the concept through his personal analysis. Janis could see him considering outcomes, probably spitting out probabilities faster than Ziggy could. “It would have to be on a trial basis,” he stated evenly and she felt the breath she was holding exit with a woosh.

“I understand,” she said. She didn’t do meek and obedient well, but this was her chance to get the spot in the project she’d always wanted. Ben had believed in her – had trusted her when he came to her for help. Maybe, in a way, that vote of confidence had worked in her favor.

Or maybe his guilt about turning me down the first time is coming into play.

“There’s just one thing.”

Dammit. “What’s that?” she asked, unable to temper her defiance this time.

“Well, Ian and Jenn have been having fun in the Chamber and I don’t want to be the one to tell them they can’t do it anymore.”

She smiled, reluctantly, like a kid whose parent made them laugh when they wanted to pout about something that hadn’t gone their way. “Shouldn’t that be your job, Admiral?”

“The first thing they teach you in leadership school is how to delegate,” he declared, the ever-present humor in his tone. “Besides, I don’t want Jenn mad at me. She’ll lock me out of the elevator so I have to take the stairs every day. You’re a lot younger than I am – you’ll do fine on the stairs.”

“So I can come to Project Quantum Leap? Without handcuffs, this time?”

“You can. Just … take it easy on everyone, all right? Give it time to come together with the rest of the team.”

“In other words, don’t be a bull in a china shop?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

She cocked her head. “No promises. I’m my father’s daughter.”

His already warm expression softened further. “Yes. Yes, you are.” He hesitated and she was suddenly very much aware of the sensations around her. A breeze ruffled her hair, some kids were skateboarding past, the roar of distant waves crashing on the shore… “And that’s a good thing,” he finished.

She felt a warm flush climb up her neck. “As long as I don’t have to do karaoke,” she said finally, trying some of his humor on for size.

“No promises.”

Magic turned from her to stare out past the breakers to the ocean. Unspoken words hung in the air, but it was not his way to leave things unsaid for long. Janis flipped the ring around without realizing it. Her thumb knew the indentations on the top, had memorized the feel of it. She knew every dent and scratch in the band. Some moments, when she felt it heavy on her finger, she felt the heaviness everywhere else, too.

Magic inhaled slowly. “Beth told me about what Sam did for your family.”

“Did she?” The bitterness was seeping back, just a little. She took a few deep breaths, leveling it off again; why should she be upset that her mother had shared that? Magic was important to her. She knew what Sam had done because her parents had told her after she found out about Quantum Leap. They hadn’t wanted her to discover the fact in some dusty old file. “I don’t think anyone outside of Mom and I know. Except Sam, and God only knows where he is.”

“I’m … sorry I kept you away from the project. You deserve to be there.”

Janis excelled at calculations. She thought through outcomes, much as Magic did, but she hadn’t seen this one coming. She was certain she’d have to cajole, bribe, plead, and instead he was handing her the keys and inviting her in. “Did you ever think about what would have happened differently if you hadn’t?”

“Ah,” he said quietly. “In our line of work … that’s something best not thought of except in the capacity of a leap. Too many pitfalls.”

“Can you do that?” she asked. Sometimes she felt like she was on one of those famous bridges with a transparent bottom, where you could look down and see the abyss under your feet and where it was impossible not to think of the likelihood of the glass starting to crack. “Can you really just not think of it?”

“Sometimes.”

He was honest. She liked that about him. Maybe it would all be okay, maybe she’d fit in. Maybe someday she’d have the opportunity to keep her promise, that day so many years ago when the plug had been pulled on the project and on her father’s dreams.

“Thank you, Magic.”

He stood up, replacing the sunglasses in one deft movement. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll see you.”

“8 a.m.,” he said, smiling. “Don’t be late.”

He nodded to her and she was overcome with the urge to stand and hug him, an instinct she immediately opposed. He did that – pulled you in so you were comfortable, despite your best efforts to keep him at arm’s length. It was part of his … magic. He grinned at her and walked away.

Janis sat a bit longer. She spent so much of her life plugged in that it was comforting to just sit. Being still was something she hadn’t enjoyed in a long time – it always felt like turmoil was embedded in her every thought and it was just best to keep busy.

After Magic disappeared into his RAV-4 SUV, she pulled out her cell phone and looked up her mother’s number.

I’m in town. Do you want to do dinner?

There was a pause and then the three dots that indicated her inevitable response flashed on screen. Janis looked back up, studying the people walking past. When the device vibrated, she read the answer.

Tomorrow? Javan?

Janis loved Persian and was touched that her mother had picked her favorite restaurant.

Tomorrow. 7. C U then.

Her phone clicked as she shut off the screen and tucked it into her pocket. “Tomorrow’s going to be an interesting day,” she murmured to herself. She permitted herself a smile that lit up her eyes.

Why shouldn’t she be happy? After all … she was in.