11A/N: Well, here we are again- another new fic, this time we have a Quantum Leap crossover! Sounds strange, I know, but first, I'm using the 90's movie TMNT, so it's not as weird as it seems, and second, I just couldn't resist doing something really fun and off-the-wall like this just to play around with the turtles (and Sam, of course). As always, I don't own either property or the characters, but I figure that's a given.
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A Matter of Time
Sam Beckett arrived from his latest "leap" on his back. Not the first time that had happened, and probably not the last, either. He was in a bed, from the feel of the lumpy mattress beneath him, and the worn, scratchy blanket he was bundled in. It was dark- the only light he could see came from a small night-light on a wall behind his bed's cool metal head-rail. In the dim glow, he could just make out a couple of posters on the wall. A photo image of Einstein with some quote underneath, and what appeared to be a chart of the Elemental Periodic Table. There were two model planes and one of a space shuttle dangling from the ceiling, and a bookcase with three rows of neatly shelved books, all of them thick and heavy-looking. A table against the adjacent wall from the bed had what looked like an ancient radio partially dissected, its innards scattered about and some tools sitting next to it. Whomever the room had belonged to, they were a science buff, and apparently liked to repair things. He glanced around and spotted a digital alarm clock. It read 5:26 AM. He yawned, wondering where he was, and whose body he'd jumped into this time.
A second small bed against the opposite wall was occupied; a large bulky shape took up most of the space in it, completely buried under the blankets on it. A large stuffed bear also sat next to the wall on the second bed, and a skateboard was propped against the rickety wooden headboard. Posters of comic book heroes adorned the wall on that side of the room, along with a shelf holding a few paperback novels, and several action figures. Sam smiled to himself, realizing it must belong to someone young. Sitting up, he glanced around the room once more, and noticed a conspicuous lack of any kind of mirror, or windows, either, for that matter. The shape of the room was odd, too. It was on a raised platform of some sort, with a lower area below a three-foot drop, that opened up into a large empty space with several brick and concrete pillars at the edge of the platform, and what appeared to be- railroad tracks?- on the floor of the lower area. The "room" he was in was little more than an alcove with an open doorway.
He heard loud snoring coming from another room somewhere to his left, and soft mumbling from the other bed next to his. The bed creaked as he rose, and stepped cautiously out onto the main platform area. A subway car that looked like it hadn't run in decades sat further down the lower portion of the open area, with a single door open at one end. It looked like it had been turned into a comfortable living space, if somewhat small. The rest of the area around him was also very dimly lit, but he was definitely in an abandoned subway station. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with what appeared to be stained glass mosaics, and tiles on the platform walls. An area far to the left had a set of steps leading up, presumably to the entrance of the station.
"Where the heck am I?" He muttered to himself, though a better question might be WHOM. Then he happened to look down, suddenly aware that he felt drafty. And then he saw why. Not only was his body completely naked, but it was- He froze in shock, staring down at a pair of large, three-fingered hands. From the dim glow of the night-light coming from the room he'd just left, and a second one at the far end of the old subway platform, he was pretty sure his skin was green. And what the HECK was that thing on his chest and stomach? He tapped the hard, flat plates that appeared fused to his skin. It sounded slightly hollow, like thumping on a melon.
Sam rushed over to where the other light was, and looked around frantically for something to check his reflection. He finally found a toaster with chrome sides on a table in what looked like a make-shift kitchen and dining area. Holding it up near the light, he looked at the face belonging to his "host" body. His jaw dropped in shock and horror. Staring back at him was- something that most definitely was NOT human.
"GAAHH! I- I'm a- a freak!" He yelped loudly, for the moment forgetting that he wasn't alone down here. He dropped the toaster with a loud clatter and fell backwards, his rear hitting the floor painfully. Something just above and against his buttocks felt crushed, and he yelped again as he felt underneath him to find some kind of short, stubby- and sensitive- appendage there. "What the-?! I have a- a TAIL?!"
The noise apparently woke up the station's other occupants, and he heard several pairs of feet come stumbling out from the alcoves behind him, all shouting in confusion and fear. "What's going on?!" "Is it the Foot? Did they find us again?!" "Donnie, what're ya' yellin' about?"
Sam turned toward the voices, and his eyes bulged out in utter astonishment. He saw three more of- whatever he was- all looking nervous and frantic, with weapons in their strange-looking hands. They were completely naked, just as he was, and all sported the same strange bony plates on their fronts. And apparently, they had some kind of hard, curved, bony plates on their backs, as well. In fact, they looked like giant-
"Turtles," Sam muttered in amazement as it finally dawned on him. "Giant, talking turtles. I'm a turtle? Oh boy…." It was all just too much. He passed out.
Above the unconscious turtle, the others looked down in surprise. They traded glances, before one of them bent down and gently prodded the prone form. "Donnie?" He asked uncertainly, wondering what had come over their brother.
Sam woke with a groan. He was lying on something cold and hard. It felt like he was on a floor. "Ugh, what a nightmare. What happened?" He said, mostly to himself. He opened his eyes, and nearly jumped right out of his skin at the sight that greeted him. Three round, green heads leaned over him, with a fourth- this one furry with small round ears on top and a long, pointed snout with whiskers- staring down in concern. "Yee-aah! Wha-?!" Sam yelped, scooting backward away from the three giant turtle-men kneeling down next to him. His eyes darted frantically from one to the next, trying desperately to grasp what he was seeing.
"Uh, Donnie? You okay, dude?" One of them asked, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. He sounded young. Sam jerked away as if he'd been snake-bitten.
"Donnie?" Sam echoed, confused. Was that his name here? Where WAS here, anyway? Some other planet? He had never jumped into an alien body before, but then he supposed there was a first time for everything.
"Was is wrong, my son?" The furry one said, and Sam turned to stare up at him. He sounded much older, and his wiry brown fur was sprinkled with grey. His eyes were small and dark, almost beady. Rodent-like. In fact, Sam suddenly realized he WAS a rodent. The long bald tail poking form the bottom of his Japanese-style robe, the strange, clawed hands, the long, protruding front teeth- it hit Sam like a ton of bricks that he was staring at a huge talking rat. A rat in a kimono. Weird.
Okay, he thought, first turtles, now a rat. What's next? He shook the thought away, trying to focus his mind and get a handle on the situation. The other turtle had called him Donnie. They spoke English, so at least he could try to get some answers. He desperately wished Al was there. Maybe then he could figure out where- and when- he was, and how he'd ended up in the body of a five-foot talking turtle. "Uh, I- I think I'm having a breakdown. I know this is going to sound strange, but I'm a little confused. Where am I?" He asked, hoping he could at least get his bearings.
"Where else? You're in the lair, bro," The turtle who had answered had an accent that sounded distinctly as though he was from Brooklyn. Which was ridiculous. "Ya' want to tell us why ya' were yellin' like the Foot were about to attack?"
That one confused Beckett. "Lair? Foot?" He replied, shaking his head. He rose to his feet, and saw that the other three still held the weapons they'd had when they had dashed out onto the main platform. The one who had spoken first held two pairs of nunchucks, the one with the Brooklyn accent had a pair of some sort of long three-pronged daggers or something, and the last one- Sam's eyes bulged at the sight of a pair of matched katanas. Why would they need weapons?
"The Foot Clan- Donnie, are you okay? You didn't bump your head or something, did you? This is our HOME. You know, under Midtown Manhattan?" The third turtle said, cocking his head slightly. His voice was young, like the first, but calm and soothing. "You don't seem like yourself."
"N-no, I'm really not," Sam replied nervously. That was an understatement. "I don't feel so great."
"Hmm, perhaps you should lie down and rest, my son. Leonardo, please help your brother back to his room. Michelangelo- go get him a glass of water and a cold washcloth." The rat seemed to be in charge, as the other two were quick to do as he ordered. But what was with him calling them his sons? Were they a family of some kind? The rat had also called this Donnie their brother. And the turtle with the Brooklyn accent had called him "bro". If they were in New York, at least the accent made sense now. The way he and the first one had talked, Sam was guessing it was the late 80's, maybe. If that was true, then the skateboard made sense, too. Though he'd never heard of a skateboarding turtle. How old were these creatures, anyway?
"Hai, Sensei!" Two turtles said in unison, each rushing to do as bid. The one with the katanas slid them into sheaths that hung from a belt and scabbards that hung loosely over one shoulder, as if he'd been in the process of donning them when he came out of his room. The one with the nunchucks draped them over a mannequin with targets painted on it and ran off into the kitchen area. Sam glanced at the mannequin, which appeared battered and had several holes in it in very strategic places. A practice dummy? He shelved the questions that brought up for later.
The one the rat had called Leonardo draped an arm over "Donnie's" shoulders, and gently steered him back toward the room he'd come from. "Don, I think you've been working too hard, maybe you should take a break from trying to repair the Scepter of Time. Besides, it's not like we're ever going to use it again." He said, shrugging.
"Excuse me- Scepter of Time?" Sam asked, pausing before they reached the alcove. This sounded like it might be something important.
"Uh, yeah, you know- the 'egg-timer' that accidentally sent April back to feudal Japan, and sent Kenshin here in her place? You DO remember, don't you?" The other turtle pulled away, looking at him intently. "You've only been tinkering with that thing for DAYS to try to fix it, though for the life of me, I can imagine why. We're better off if it can never be used again, if you ask me. I'm still not convinced Mikey wouldn't try to use it again to go back there and stay. He was so upset about leaving after the way we were treated there. I think he misses Mitsu, too."
Sam took that in, trying to digest what he was hearing. So far, all had learned were the names of his host and two of the others- Leonardo and Michelangelo- and that these turtle-men lived like some sort of family with the rat. And that they had somehow come to possess some sort of time machine. If he was understanding this Leonardo correctly, this Scepter thing might be some sort of primitive Quantum Accelerator. Maybe it was his ticket home? It had switched two people in time, from the sound of it- but how could they travel beyond their own life-spans? Was there some variable missing from his calculations, that might allow for travel further back than his own birth?
"Refresh my memory. Pretend I don't know what you're talking about, and tell me exactly what happened," He said, motioning the other turtle to join him in the room. Leonardo cocked one brow-ridge and followed him in, and they sat down on the two beds.
"Well, April bought it at the flea market, and when she pulled it out of the bag, it started glowing, sparks and lightning shot out everywhere, and that little thing in the middle started spinning. Next thing we knew, she was gone, and Kenshin was standing there wearing her clothes. You studied it and told us it worked on equal mass displacement, and we all activated it to go back in time and get her back. Then Raph and Mikey almost decided to stay behind when it was time to leave, because they felt accepted there after the villagers started treating us like heroes when we saved Yoshi from that fire. You really DON'T remember, DO you?" He was staring at Sam suspiciously now, and Sam realized he might have potentially blown his "cover". His task for each leap was nearly always contingent on the people around him remaining unaware of his involvement.
"I- everything is a blur right now. Maybe you're right. Maybe I HAVE been working too hard. I don't even know what day it is!" He hoped that would give him a better idea of when he had jumped to, without being too obvious.
"It's Monday. Don't you remember? April came down yesterday to see us and bring some supplies we can't get ourselves. And Casey and Raph went out Saturday night to patrol for scum-bags to knock around. Does any of that ring a bell? Are you SURE you're okay?" Leonardo seemed worried; he leaned closer, his calm yet intent gaze boring into Sam. Sam suddenly realized that he wasn't sweating, though it felt like he should be. That was strange.
"No, that's not what I meant. I was talking about the date. What is today's date? I honestly can't remember, and it's really bothering me." He wanted to add that he had no idea who April and Casey were, but that would be too suspicious. Leonardo had mentioned Raph twice now. Was he the third turtle? He desperately wanted to ask Leonardo what they were and where they came from, but bit his tongue.
"Oh. It's August sixteenth, 1993. Does that help?" Leonardo shrugged, leaning back, though he was still staring far too intently for Sam's comfort. 1993. It was only about five years before he would go into the Accelerator. And he was in New York. In the body of a turtle. Who apparently was part of some sort of freakish family of similar monsters. No, that wasn't quite right, these- whatever they were- didn't seem like monsters at all. More like normal, fully intelligent people in strange bodies, living underground in a hidden "lair". And they were worried about being found and attacked by something called the Foot Clan.
"I- think so. How long ago did we go back in time?" He asked, frowning. He felt a headache coming on, and rubbed the spot between his eyes, just above his- what exactly would one call it? His snout? Beak? He studied the face and body of his "brother", noting the details of small spots on his head, shoulders, and legs, the color of his eyes, and the muscular, powerful build of his arms and legs. These guys were certainly not slow or weak, that much he was certain. They were built more like professional athletes. Or fighters. Maybe that would explain the weapons. And the mention of this Foot Clan, or one of them going out with someone named Casey to beat up thugs. Vigilantes?
"About a month ago, now. Why? Is it important? Do you think there were side-effects?" Leonardo queried curiously.
"Maybe. I'm not sure yet." Sam sat back, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. Okay, things were starting to come together now. Sort of. He still had no idea what he was doing in the body of a humanoid turtle. But what the heck, he might as well run with it, since he didn't seem to be leaping out of here any time soon. Which reminded him that he had no idea why he was here. Obviously, it had something to do with this Time Scepter thing. Was he supposed to fix it? Or maybe prevent Donnie from doing so? He wished he knew. Now, where the heck was Al?
Almost as if on cue, a glowing hole opened in thin air, and out stepped his friend and aide, Rear Admiral Al Calavicci, cigar in hand as always. He took one look at the two giant turtles, and his cigar fell to the floor. "Wow. When that Donatello guy said he was a mutant turtle, I thought he was joking. Sam? You, uh, okay, buddy?" He stooped to pick up the cigar, shaking his head in disbelief.
Sam almost sighed in relief, but a moment later, the one named Leonardo shot straight up off the bed, his eyes glued to where Al stood. "What the-?! Who the heck are YOU?!" He drew one of the swords and pointed it at Al. Sam's eyes nearly fell out of the sockets in surprise.
"You can SEE him?" He asked uncertainly. His jaw dropped. Very few could see Al- usually animals, very young children, and people with mental disorders or handicaps. What did that mean?
"Yeah, I see him; wait, do you KNOW this guy, Donnie?" Leonardo turned back to him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously again. "No, on second thought, don't answer that. Maybe I should be asking who YOU are, instead. I know my brother, and you're acting like- like someone else." He drew the other katana now, and pointed it at Sam. "Okay, DONATELLO- you want to start explaining what's going on with you, and who this guy is? I'm REAL curious."
At that moment, the turtle the rat had called Michelangelo turned the corner into the alcove-room, a cup in one hand, a damp cloth in the other. He stopped in mid-stride, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open. "Whoa! Who's the dude in the cheap suit?" He asked the room in general, staring directly at Al. Sam's gaze shot from Leonardo to Al, and then to the second turtle-man, stunned by the fact that they could actually see the holographic image of his friend.
"This suit was NOT cheap, thank you! Hey, Sam- they can see me!" Al's expression was a mix of surprise and indignation over the minor insult, though apparently the surprise had finally won out. He stared back at the second turtle, eyeing him warily, as the turtle-man cautiously stepped closer.
"Uh, Donnie? Why he'd just call you Sam? How'd you GET here, dude?" This Michelangelo had an odd way of talking that reminded Sam of surfers on the West coast. He and Al were circling each other slowly, carefully sizing each other up, while Leonardo moved in on Sam and Al, both blades drawn.
"Because he's NOT Donnie. I don't know who this is, but he's not our brother. Just who ARE you, and where is Donatello?" The sword-wielding turtle's voice had gone almost deadly calm and soft, which sent alarm bells going of in Sam's head. He recognized that as the tone often used by men used to violence and danger. It was cool and commanding, with a threatening edge. Michelangelo's head shot up to meet the other's gaze for a moment, before he, too, suddenly turned hostile.
"Not Donnie? So he's an imposter? NOT cool. Okay, dude, you better have a good reason for droppin' in on us, or Leo here's gonna' make you guys a LOT shorter!" Michelangelo said, setting down the glass and cloth and slipping into what Sam recognized as a fighting stance used by martial artists. This was getting out of hand. They weren't even supposed to be aware of the switch, yet here they were, not only fully cognizant that he was an imposter, but they could see Al, too!
"Just- just calm down, guys. I can explain. This is all just a really BIG misunderstanding!" Sam said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
"Okay, so start explaining. And Donnie had better be safe, or you're in BIG trouble, pal." Leonardo's words were curt and direct. Sam gulped. This had just turned into the most complicated leap he'd ever made!
"Oh boy," he muttered, glancing over at Al, who simply shrugged and shook his head in complete bafflement. Sam slowly sank back against the wall, rubbing the spot between his eyes again. His blossoming headache had just become a dozen times worse….