A Twist In Time (Crossover - A-Team/Quantum Leap)

[Zania]

Summary: The A-Team meets up with two ghosts from their past. One is seeking their help; the other bears shocking information - the A-Team is going to meet a horrible fate, beginning with the death of Hannibal, unless a certain scientist can find a way to change history for the better. Will the A-Team survive and save their country?
Warnings: Mild swearing, violence, bloodshed, torture, and references to major character deaths
Author's Notes: This trailer was written in screenplay format.
Technical Note: For those who are unfamiliar with the term, a Smash Cut in a script is a jarring, sudden transition between two scenes. It is commonly used when going from the opening gambit of a series to the credits (i.e. ER, etc).
Disclaimer: The characters and series involved are the property of their creators, Stephen J. Cannell and Donald P. Bellisario. This fanfiction was written to promote both series, not for profit; no copyright infringement is intended.

A TWIST IN TIME TEASER​

FADE IN​

The sun begins to peek over the San Andreas mountains, as the sleeping city of Los Angeles, California sits in the foreground. A light smog covers the area like a blanket, refracting the rays of sunlight to where the morning sky seems like it’s on fire, filled with gorgeous shades of red, orange, and yellow . . . perhaps a foreshadowing of what was to come.

A beautiful, but haunting, instrumental piece of music plays in the background as we hear . . .

ANNOUNCER
The world is full of choices . . .​

FLASH TO WHITE​

ANNOUNCER
Love . . .​

John “Hannibal” Smith is in the background, embracing a female in the foreground. Despite his toughness, his ice blue eyes look as if they are about to tear up from the emotion at the reunion. There is an overwhelming look of joy on his face. A reverse angle reveals Margaret Olivia Sullivan, who smiles back at Hannibal and looks at him longingly.

DISSOLVE TO​

A female is in the background, her back is facing us. We can see her wavy brown hair, but her face is not visible. Despite this, there is something about her that seems very familiar. An arm is wrapped around her shoulders. As our eyes follow the arm, we see Templeton Peck over her shoulder. He is kissing her passionately on the lips.

FLASH TO WHITE​

ANNOUNCER
Life . . .
​

Children of various racial backgrounds are gathered around the muscular BA Baracus. He sits outside the youth center on an overturned plastic drum. They are in awe as they watch him demonstrate how to make a craft. A rare smile can be seen upon the lips of the gentle giant, glittering as brightly as his highly polished gold that dangles around his neck.

DISSOLVE TO​

A close shot of Hannibal shows him in all of his glory. His silver-white hair seems to gleam, and his ice blue eyes are captivating. They appear as if they twinkle brightly, reflecting the smile that rests upon his face. As the camera widens out, we can see the rest of the A-Team. The expression on their faces indicate that they are sharing in the Jazz along with their leader.

FLASH TO WHITE​

ANNOUNCER
And death.​

The distinct sound of a gunshot is heard as we . . .

DISSOLVE TO​

Hannibal is on his back in a parking lot. He is not moving and, from the distance, it looks as if he may have been knocked out. As the camera pushes in, we see a large pool of blood surrounding the shoulders, neck, and head of the A-Team leader. Red has intermingled with and stained his stunning silver-white hair. Closer yet, and we can see the source of the blood . . . a wound on the Colonel’s neck that has pierced the trachea and severed the jugular vein. Hannibal’s ice-blue eyes are still open, frozen in a death pall as we . . .

FLASH TO WHITE​

The camera pushes through a murky scene. Particles and debris seem to float weightlessly in this underwater realm, a sign that something foreign is now within these waters. Further still and the cockpit of a jet starts to come into view. The glass of the canopy is still solid, uncracked . . . and there are hands pressed up against it. As the camera moves in closer, we can see that the hand belongs to H. M. Murdock, who is trapped inside. The interior of the cockpit is filled with water and, from the look on Murdock’s face, he has been holding his breath for a long time . . . almost too long. Murdock’s dark eyes are filled with fear, even panic as he realizes that there is no way out. After a beat, Murdock’s eyes roll into the back of his head as his hand falls limply from the surface of the glass, floating in the water-filled cockpit. The last of the life giving oxygen that had been in Murdock’s lungs escapes his lips, rising upward . . . almost as if carrying Murdock’s condemned soul with it.

FLASH TO WHITE​

Hold a beat as we hear . . .

ANNOUNCER
But what if fate gave you a
second chance?​

DISSOLVE TO​

Templeton Peck sits in cabin seat on the passenger side of the A-Team van, next to the sliding door. He is wearing a tasteful brown suit with a white shirt and complimenting tie. His hair is impeccably groomed and there is a hint of a smile on his face. Hold a beat before he is encompassed by an aura of blue light that seems alive with electricity. At the peak of the light’s brilliance, we . . .

SMASH CUT TO​

A montage of images fill the screen, in sync with the increased beat and power of the music. A series of fast paced cuts shows us:

The camera is focused on the right rear wheel well of the A-Team van as the tire spins wildly. Using telephoto compression, our eyes follow the fender backwards until our view rests upon the pursuing dark green military police sedans that seem to be right on the back bumper of the van.

The waters of a lake can be seen, the reflection of the sunlight gently dancing across the surface. After a beat, a green, scaly creature emerges from the depths, making its way ominously towards shore.

BA lands a solid jab on an equally sized and matched opponent, sending him reeling backwards. He stumbles and collapses through a pile of crates, leaving only splintered wood in its place.

A tight, static shot of a mountainous road seems peaceful, relaxing. That quiet calm is disturbed when a white Corvette with a red racing stripe skids into view. Templeton Peck can be seen clearly behind the wheel, and in the passenger seat is the Aquamaniac . . . the head of the costume sticking out past the removed top of the corvette. As the Vette slides out of frame, three military police sedans skid into view as they try to keep up.

Trees seem to fly by as we look down the passenger side of the A-Team van, focusing mainly towards the front. It is obviously traveling at a high rate of speed. After a beat, Hannibal emerges from the passenger window with a silver, 9mm pistol in his gloved hand. The wind whips through his silver-white hair as he fires a shot.

Smoke and flame spew from the engines of a Mig 29 as it struggles to stay aloft. It streaks through the air, the ground quickly approaching as it is losing the fight to maintain altitude. Trees seem to rise in the background as the jet fighter approaches a lake.

ANNOUNCER
Turn back the clock.​

SMASH CUT TO​

The music comes to an abrupt ending, almost as if someone slammed a door shut, as blackness fills the screen. White letters from the title fades into view. Again, the blue aura is visible, surrounding the letters as streaks of white lightning crackle and dance through the color.

ANNOUNCER
A Twist In Time
(beat)
Coming soon to a fanfic list
near you.​

Continue to hold on the title as we hear . . .

HANNIBAL (V. O.)
I love it when a plan comes
together.​

FADE OUT​

END OF TEASER​

 

[Zania]

Look to this day,
For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow's but a vision;
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
-- Face, "Family Reunion"

On the wheel of life we all go around we are many people at many times.
-- Jack Kerouac, "Rebel Without a Clue"
 
 

Prologue​

 

A brilliant blue-white light filled the area, yet went unseen by the others nearby.  The nimbus of electrical energy faded from around his body.  He instinctively looked around, hoping that he would see some clues that might help him figure out who he was or why he had Leaped into his current host.

His name was Sam Beckett, holder of seven doctorates, winner of a Nobel Prize, and creator of the top secret project named Quantum Leap.  He had been pressured to prove that his theories in time travel worked or lose funding, so he prematurely stepped into the Accelerator.  Even though he was successful, the program intended to bring him back to his own time had not been completed.  Plus something had gone wrong . . . instead of Leaping into his own life as he had hoped would have happened, he was Leaping into the lives of others, limited by his own lifetime.

If there was one thing that he dreaded about Leaping about in time, it was the beginning of a Leap.  It was at that point when he knew nothing about who his host was or why he was there.  What made it worse was when others were around him, capable of tripping him up with a simple question, or he found himself in the middle of an undesirable situation.

The memory of one such occasion came to the front of his mind . . . a Leap when a little boy was eager to go buy some candy at the local pharmacy and had asked Sam for permission to go.  That same boy, who found himself in the right place at the wrong time, witnessed a murder and almost became the next victim.  Sam pushed that terrifying recollection out of his mind, trying to focus on the task at hand.

He was within a vehicle . . . a van, from all appearances, with a light gray interior.  A CB radio was mounted overhead in between the two front seats, and a car phone was built into the main console near the AM/FM cassette radio.  He was sitting in a comfortable cabin seat on the passenger side in the back, and couldn't help but to notice the three other occupants.

The person in the seat to his left wore a brown bomber jacket with a tiger on the back, tan slacks, a bright blue shirt with a red arrow pointing upward and some lettering on it, a checkered red flannel shirt that was unbuttoned but tucked in around the belt, and a dark blue baseball cap.  His brown hair was somewhat thin, although stretched down to the nape of his neck.  He kept shifting between leaning forward and then sitting back in his seat, almost as if he was either excited or anxious.

The man in the seat in front of him wore a light tan jacket, black jeans, and a light blue shirt.  He had black leather gloves on and held a cigar in one of his hands.  He hadn't seen the person's face yet, but if it wasn't for the silver-white hair and the conservative clothing, Sam probably would have thought that it was Al.

The driver of the van was perhaps the most bizarre.  He was a big African American male who boasted a mohawk with a beard and mustache.  Just the sight of his build alone was enough to practically strike terror within anyone who saw him.  The thing that sold it was the bib overall jeans, the red tank top worn underneath, and the mass of gold chains dangling from around his neck.

Sam looked down at his own clothing . . . a brown two-piece suit with a white shirt and matching brown tie.  Even the shoes looked to be fairly expensive and well polished.  He wasn't in a position to where he could see a mirror and look at the reflection in it . . . the face of the individual he had Leaped into.  Until that opportunity came about, he would have to ride it out for now.

From the sound of the engine as well as the whir from the tires, the time traveler could tell that the van was traveling at a high rate of speed even without having to look out the front windshield.  The wail of sirens from behind him indicated that they were being chased . . . but why?

"Man, the Army must be gettin' better drivers.  They're stickin' to us like glue," the driver said in a gruff tone, almost allowing a crack of worry seep into his voice.

"Decker certainly tries.  You have to give him that much," the male in the tan jacket noted, adding a touch of a laugh on the end.

He raised his eyebrow curiously, wondering why the white-haired individual took what appeared to be a serious situation lightly.  The quantum physicist didn't know who these individuals were, but they were being chased . . . for God knew what, and were probably going to be captured.  Yet the older male seemed to be entertained by that idea.

The eyes of the male in the bomber jacket almost seemed to light up as he leaned forward, but the driver just shook his head ominously as he mumbled, "He's on the Jazz again."

All the Nobel Prize winner could sputter was, "Oh, boy."