my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)
[personal profile] my_b7_fic
written as a birthday story for [livejournal.com profile] jekesta who likes Quantum Leap as well as Blakes 7.


Avon picked up the apple that had just been created, shrugged, polished it on his sleeve, and prepared to bite into it. "Don't!" Dayna cried out, snatching it from him.

Piqued, Avon snatched the apple back, bit into it, and collapsed with a look of surprise on his face.

*******


Avon looked around. He was in a room in a laboratory of some type, but nothing was at all familiar. A dark-haired man wearing an incredibly loud and obnoxious shirt came up to him, punching buttons on what seemed to be a hand-held calculating device of some kind. "Hullo, my name is Al." He frowned at the device and then looked up at Avon. "Ziggy says you're not supposed to be here."

Avon drew his gun and aimed it at the middle button of the hideous shirt. "Ziggy is right. Now, tell me where I am."

"Er." Al eyed Avon's weapon uncertainly. "You're in the waiting room of the Quantum Leap project. In the New Mexican desert. And I don't really want my hair curled. Beauticians dress funny where you came from, don't they?"

Avon ignored the last remark and studied the room. It was huge, coloured a soothing blue, and it smelled like a hospital room. Avon suddenly noticed that group of people dressed in what appeared to be archaic medical uniforms were at the far end. His eyes narrowed. "Waiting for what? Interrogation?"

"No, no, nothing like that! Well, we'd like to ask you a few questions, but nothing difficult. Just... your name and the date." Al smiled, but Avon didn't believe it, any more than his own smile. "Just to make sure you're all right. Up in the noggin."

"New Mexico." Avon's memory suddenly clicked. "I've never heard of a planet by that name, but there was once a region on Earth..."

"Once?" Al yelped. "When are you from?"

Avon decided that was a relatively harmless question, and despite himself he was intrigued by the situation. Whatever was happening on Sardos had probably already happened. Unless the apple had been poisoned and this was a dying hallucination. Avon doubted he would ever hallucinate anything like Al's shirt. "The year is 1,207 N.C."

"N.C.?"

"New Calendar." Avon didn't believe Al's ignorance for a second. This was all some plot of Servalan's. It had to be. He was still on Sardos. He was still wearing the same clothes, he still had the same small blister on one finger he'd got when a laser-welder slipped this morning. Hardly any time had passed since he'd lost consciousness. If this was real, he wasn't playing along with it. "Show me the way out."

"Oh! You can't leave!" At Avon's expression, Al added hastily. "You'll be automatically returned to your proper time, Mister... Mister... whenever Sam fixes up whatever went wrong with your life, back in 1,207... funny, I thought people wore togas then, not black leather."

Avon stared at Al. "Fixes up?" Avon couldn't resist laughing. "Sam would have to be a miracle worker. And I don't believe in miracles."

"Look. I know this is hard to believe, but this is 1999, and you're part of a secret government project."

Avon's eyes glittered dangerously, and his finger tightened on the gun's trigger.

Al hurried on. "We won't do anything to you, but you've got to stay here, so... well, I mean, you could leave the waiting room, but if you get too far away, I don't think the accelerator would be able to find you to exchange you for Sam. It's got to have a fixed reference point here, you know. Well, you would know if you knew anything about particle acceleration time travel -- I tell you what I can do, I can take you to the Imaging Chamber and let Sam see you. You can't see him because his image gets transferred to my neurons, but he can tell us what's happening. Sam's a good guy; he really is. You'd like him. All he wants to do is help people. That's all he ever wanted to do."

Avon blinked. "He sounds like Blake. All right, take me to this imaging chamber." Avon doubted Al would convince him of this wild story, but it would get him away from the medical personnel.

Avon glanced at the surroundings as Al led the way, still babbling. Avon let it flow over him, almost soothed by the Vila-familiarity of it. If it was a hallucination, it was remarkably detailed, down to the archaic power outlets inset in the walls, and the occasional very Earthlike small insect crawling on the floor.

"Ok, here we are." Al stood back and let Avon see that the interior of the imaging room was as blank and blue and huge as the waiting room. There was no one else inside.

A few moments after they went in, Al began talking to himself. Well, not to Avon. "Sam! Where the heck are you, that doesn't look like 1,207 anywhere I heard of." Al listened. "The future? You can't... well, all right, I guess if they've got ray guns..." Al glanced at Avon. "Even if they do look like hair curlers. But, anyway, Sam, your leapee is really, really not happy. That's why it took me so long to get to you. He's holding a gun on me now, so if you could tell me something that would cheer him up... I think that would be a real good idea!"

Al tilted his head, with every indication of listening closely. "Uh huh. Uh huh. Oh, him? Kinky. All right. Yes. It did what? Oh, that's gross, Sam... yeah... so you think it's fixed? Why haven't you leaped? Oh. That, yeah, maybe. But we never... ok, I'll do it. Hang on, Sam."

Al turned to Avon. "Ok, Avon. Yeah, Sam told me who you are. Listen good. Sam says everything's fine with your people on Sardos, and he got to talking to your friend Vila, and then your computer, and they found this Blake guy for you." Al grinned. "I thought you had to be from the past, but Orac and Ziggy did a little data-exchange and it seems that apple was genetically modified with bits of Sam's DNA got up from a computer program looking to create a genius... I think... anyway, the whoozis gave you a link with Sam and since you really, really, really needed a turn around, someone Up There must have decided to help you out."

Avon lifted the gun. "If you don't start making sense very soon, I shall shoot you and find someone else to make explanations."

"Hey!" Al raised his hands. "I can't help it! That's just the way it is. Look. Orac found Blake, and he's in trouble. He's hurt and someone's betrayed him, and if you don't get to him fast... well, it doesn't look good. Sam's done what he can, got everyone back on your ship and heading for Blake, and you should have exchanged places with him. Orac and Sam think it's because your leap wasn't normal and you didn't get swiss-cheesed memory coming here so you probably will get it going back home and you won't remember what Sam did when he was you, the way most leapees do. Understand?"

"Not one word." But Avon was beginning to believe that this was real, and Al believed it, at least.

"Ok, great. Don't believe me. Here." Al held out the little device he'd been fiddling with. "Take this with you. It's got it all here. You'll have to believe your friends when this backs them up. Orac said he could figure it out."

Avon hesitated. It might be a trap. It probably was a trap. But if Blake needed him... Avon took the device.

And Leaped.

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December 2011

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