Quantum Leap (1989–1993): Season 2, Episode 11 - A Portrait for Troian - February 7, 1971 - full transcript

Sam must save a young woman who drowns while insisting that she is hearing the calls of her dead husband.

Leaping into other people's lives,
I feel a lot like Don Quixote.

A stranger,
out of place in time,

on an impossible quest,
sent to right the unrightable wrong,

to fight the unbeatable foe.

♪ And the wild winds of fortune ♪
♪ will carry me onward ♪

♪ Oh, whithersoever they blow ♪

♪ Whithersoever ♪

♪ They blow ♪

♪ Onward to glory ♪

♪ I go ♪

Uh-oh. If this is glory,

something tells me
I'm in big trouble.

- Did you hear him?
- Oh, boy.

You must have heard him.

I don't think so.

But he kept calling my name
over and over again.

- "Troian! Troian!"
- Troian.

Please tell me you heard him.

Look, I-i-it's gonna pour.

Um... we better head for cover.

In there's not exactly
what I had in mind.


These are Julian's voice prints,
aren't they?

It's not my imagination.

This proves it's real.

Well, there... there is something here.

How can that be?
Julian's been dead for three years.

What you need is a warm fire
and a hot toddy.

We don't allow fires
at Claridge House.

Why not?
It's my fault.

I should have had
the chimneys cleaned

before reopening the
house after three years.

The birds and, uh, other animals
make their nests in the chimney.

A fire could be dangerous.

So would be pneumonia.

I've just cleaned the floor.


I'll prepare your drinks.

If it's not too much trouble.

If you wanted to, uh, save me
from some trouble, Doctor,

you wouldn't be here.

Miss Stoltz.
Dr. Mintz is my guest.

And as long
as I'm mistress here,

he will be made to feel welcome.

As you wish, Mistress Claridge.

Hey, Sis, just in case
you two missed them,

those things in the hall closet,
they're umbrellas.

I heard Julian's voice again.

Oh, Sis.

Dr. Mintz
has finally got proof.

Well, I'll just bet you do,


Julian is dead,
and he's not coming back.

It's terrible and it's unfair,
but that's the way it is, Sis.

I know Julian is dead.

Then why do you believe
he's talking to you?

Because I heard his voice.

Are you sure
it's not the quack's?

I'm tired of you
putting Dr. Mintz down.

He's an accredited parapsychologist,
and he's here to help me.

The man has got degrees in...

Yeah, in voodoos, vampires
and zombies.

What, no denials?

I don't believe in vampires.

Jimmy, I don't want to
believe it either,

but I heard Julian's voice.

He was calling me,
calling me out to the family crypt.

I don't know.
Maybe I am losing my mind.

Look, Sis, why don't you get out
of those wet things...

before you catch your death?

I am cold.

I think I'll go up to my room,
take a hot bath, get some rest.

Would you ask Miss Stoltz to
bring my toddy to my room, please?

I'll bring it up myself.

Good night, Dr. Mintz.

I shelled out a lot of
bucks to real doctors

just to get her head straight
after Julian's death.

She came this close
to entering a rubber room,

and I'll be damned if I'm gonna
let you put her there now.

Listen... pal,
I'm not here to hurt your sister.

No. No, you're just here
to find a ghost...

so you can cash in
on the big bucks, huh?

The lecturing circuit,
a book, maybe even a movie.

And if Troian goes bonkers in the
process, who cares, right? She's rich.

She can check into
a nice, private loony bin.

I'll bet you'd even visit her...
once or twice.

Your toddies are ready.

I think you should take
your sister her drink.

Thank you.

A Mrs. Little called
from the Lakeview Weekly.

She was going to come up with
some, uh, clippings you requested.

Clippings. Uh, yeah. Well, yeah.

I was having her do some...
well, look some information up for me.

I told her you'd drive into town
in the morning... and pick them up.

That's a very good idea.
The storm is getting nasty.

It has nothing to do
with the storm.

Strangers aren't welcome here.

Uh! I don't know
if I'd drink that, Sam.

How long have you been here?

Long enough to know I wouldn't drink
a toddy made by Lucrezia Borgia.

She gives me the shivers.

- I think she can see me.
- Come on, Al! You're imagining things.

Well, who wouldn't,
in a place like this?

It reminds me of an abandoned house
in my old neighborhood...

that was so scary
nobody would ever go near it.

It was a perfect place
for me to take Moira Boichek to...

- Al!
- Go bump in the night.

- Just give me the data.
- Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Your name is Dr. Timothy Mintz,

at Stanford University,

trying to make contact...
with the other side.

you've never succeeded.

That's because there are
no such things as ghosts.

Be careful, Sam.

Ziggy says this is
a very s-strange house.

I know.

It's damp, and it's cold, and you
can't make a fire in the fireplace.

I'm serious, Sam.

Do you know that all the Claridges
in that family boneyard...

have died violent
and unnatural deaths?

I don't believe that.

- Well, I'm just giving you Ziggy's data.
- Okay.

And anyway,
the odds are that's why you're here.


Troian Giovanni Claridge.

She used to be a successful
illustrator of gothic romances,

most of them written
by her husband, Julian.

She stopped painting
three years ago...

when the husband...

in that lake out there.

The body was never found.

And she never
got over his death.

Al, I think I'm...
I think this Dr. Mintz...

might be driving her over the edge
with all this mumbo jumbo.

It's not mumbo jumbo, Sam.

This Tim Mintz
is legit as they come.

Besides, I think
he's crazy about her.


Well, I just came
from the waiting room.

Even though Mintz thinks
he was abducted by aliens,

all he can worry about
is Troian,

and for good reason...

because in two days,
unless you can do something to prevent it,

she's gonna drown in the same
lake that her husband did...

three years ago.



What happened?
The storm knock the power out?

No. It was the boogeyman.


That's the door
to Julian's study.

It's been locked
since the day he died.

What is it?

Oh, my God. It's the painting she
was working on for Julian's last book.

I thought you destroyed it.

I did!

I threw it in the lake.

Julian was in the rowboat
posing for the painting.

He was usually good
for a half an hour,

but that day, after 10 minutes,
he was bored.

He started clowning around.

Before I realized it,
he was in the lake.

He was a superb swimmer.

When he didn't come
to the surface,

I thought he was playing a
game, trying to frighten me.

By the time I realized anything
was actually wrong,

it was too late.

- You can't swim?
- No. All I could do was scream.

I never saw him again.

Just heard him?


When was the first time
you heard him?

The night they stopped
searching for his body.

- Have you ever heard him
anywhere besides here? - No.

- Do you ever see him?
- No.

- Do you want to?
- Of course I want to.


To talk to him,
to tell him how much I love him,

how much I miss him.

And how angry you are with him.

Angry? Wh... Why would I
be angry with Julian?

For drowning, for leaving you.

He's dead, and I'm angry?
How selfish do you think I am?

Just enough to be human.

You think I miss him so much,
I'm imagining hearing him.

It's possible, Troian.

No. No, I heard his voice!

He sent that painting.

Why would Julian
send the painting?

Because I broke my promise.

I promised him that
we would grow old together,

that our love
would keep him safe here,

that he would not die
like the rest of the Claridges.

Troian, we're not responsible for
promises beyond our power to keep,

no matter how sincerely made.

I can't stand the thought
of him down there,

all alone,

in the cold,

in the dark.


Get your breath. Get your breath.
Get your breath.

I'm sorry. I got dizzy.

Look, it's my fault. I'm being
incredibly insensitive. I'm so... I'm...


You're trying to help.

I know that.

Miss Stoltz
will be serving dinner.

She gets upset if we're late.

Whose house is it?

Sometimes I wonder.

I'll tell you what I think, pal.

That lake is so ice cold...

that Julian needs someone
to cuddle him.


Well, can you think of a better explanation
for what's been going on in this place?

Yes. Someone is trying
to drive Troian insane.

- Who?
- I don't know.

My first vote would be
for Miss Stoltz.

What's Ziggy got on her?

Uh... not much.

She's a house... uh, keeper...

that Troian hired
after Julian died.

She takes care of this fun house.

Sam, wouldn't you like to
take Troian away for a weekend...

to Vegas?

Ah, to save her life.

She's gonna drown
in the black lagoon tomorrow.

I am not gonna let that happen.

Al, if I take her away,
it's just gonna postpone the inevitable.

The brother...
What do we got on the brother?

Brother. Uh, he majored in golf.
He dabbles in investment.

It's not the brother.
It's not Miss Stoltz.

It's the Claridges
in that mausoleum...

and the three of them
at the bottom of the lake.


This family has suffered more
drownings than unwanted kitty cats.

It all started in 1840,

when Nathaniel Claridge
caught his wife, Priscilla,

with the butler in the attic
in flagrante.

He drowned them both in the lake,
and their bodies have never been found.

Al, I don't care
how many Claridges are in the lake.

None of them
are calling out to Troian...

or leaving fish tracks
in the study.

Well, maybe there is
a... a more natural explanation.

Thank you. What?


Maybe she's gaslighting herself.


I don't know.
My money's still on the ghost.

You know, Al,

this ghost-hunting equipment that
Dr. Mintz has placed around the estate,

it's not bad for '71.

It's designed to pick up
a wide spectrum of electrical activity,

including brain waves.

Get a load of this.

It picked up my leap-in
last night.

- You're kidding.
- No, here it is.

That's me... arriving.

Well, wait.
What... What's that?

- Uh...
- That one.

Well, I'm-I'm not sure
about that.

It resembles a voice pattern,
but, um,

there's something weird about it.

Yeah, right.
That was made by a ghost.

It was not made by a ghost.
There is no such things as ghosts.

- That was a ghost.
- If you tell me...

- Damn you, Mintz!

What did I do now?

- This.
- Yikes.

Gives me the creeps.

You should have thought about that
before you started this ghost hunt.

I'd really hoped
to never see another one.

I don't blame you.

Changing your voice
isn't gonna scare me.

See, I don't believe in ghosts, quack.
I never have and I never will.

Sam, he can hear me,
so I'm out of here.

Oh, voice throwing.
This is getting good.

And sound effects.

Creating last night's little
episode must've been real

easy for a man of your talents.

- I wasn't responsible for last night.
- I don't believe you, quack.

You want a ghost so bad that
you'll do anything to create one,

even drive my sister
to the nuthouse.

Well, I'm not gonna
let that happen.

If I were you, man,

I would pack up my little Ouija board
and be gone by dawn.

I'd spent the night reading one
of Julian and Troian's novels.

It was really quite wonderful.

An incredibly romantic tale
of bittersweet love and deep tragedy.

It might have been too dark,
were it not for Troian's illustrations.

They were whimsical
and full of life,

not at all like her nightmare painting,
which depicted only darkness and death.






I'm here.


No. No! No!

No! No!

No, no, no!



Hang on!


They're trying to kill me!

Troian, it's an earthquake.

Come on.
We gotta get out of here.

- You okay?
- Yeah. I think so.

I hurt my leg a little bit.

I thought they were trying to...

kill me.

No, an earthquake
was trying to kill you.


A terrifying, deadly,
but quite natural phenomenon.

Ah. Well, nothing's broken.

- Let's see if you can stand on it.
- It's all right.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Can you walk back to the house?

I'm sure I can.

Thank you, Dr. Mintz.

What, do I have to play
Indiana Jones again

to get you to call
me by my first name?


You called me Tim when you
were trapped back there.

- I did? I'm sorry, Dr. Mintz.
- Yeah.

It was presumptuous of me
to address anyone by their given name...

unless, of course, they're married
or related by blood.

- Are you serious?
- No.

Oh, I...

That's nice.
I like it when you laugh.


I don't know if the earthquake
damaged this old boob tube...

or if it's just on the fritz.

Hey, Stoltzie, was this thing okay
before the shake, rattle and roll?

I wouldn't know.
I never watch... television.

What do you watch,
uh, Miss Stoltz?

Never television.

Oh, come on.

Fess up. I bet you're hooked
on The Twilight Zone.

If you no longer need me,
Mistress Claridge, I'll red up the kitchen.

Why don't you do that?

"Red up the kitchen"?
What is that?

Pennsylvania Dutch.
I think she's Mennonite or Amish.

How'd you find her?

After Julian died, I ran an ad in
the, uh, Lakeview Weekly,

and she was the only one
who answered it.

She said she worked here as a girl.
She certainly knew her way around.

And I was just relieved to have
someone who would stay here.

But she's not so bad
once you get used to...

her rather melodramatic way
of speaking.

Ah, something must be loose back here.
The signal's breaking up coming in.

Oh, here it is.

A little chewing gum
and some tin foil.


The breakage of gas lines has led to
hundreds of fires throughout the city.

Jimmy is a genius when it
comes to anything electronic.

Always has been.

Why don't you design something
to predict earthquakes?

We may have already discovered
a rudimentary earthquake detector.

What do you mean?

- I think the dogs
may have been howling

- because they sensed
the quake was coming.

This equipment picked it up too.

See, these lines
might represent shifts

in the electromagnetic energy
that preceded the earthquake.

Are you saying that these
aren't Julian's voice prints?

Well, I'm just saying we should keep
our minds open about any possibilities.

What about the painting?
What's your explanation for that, Doctor?

- Why are you getting angry?
- Because I heard Julian's voice.

If it isn't real, I imagined
it, and if I imagined it, I'm...

You're not psychotic.

- Oh, merely hallucinatory.
- Look, Troian. Please...

Why are you looking
for another explanation?

I thought you wanted to prove that Julian
was haunting this house as much as I did.

- I just want to find the truth.
- The truth is that Julian will not let go.

At least 30 survivors have been pulled
from the building, with many more...

I'm gonna start upstairs.

- I'll see you for lunch.
- Oh, not me. I'm goin' to L.A.

I want to see this in person.

It's a disaster area.
They don't need any gawkers.

What's the matter, Doc?
Sis catchin' on to you?

Don't blow your cool, man.


Good ol' Dr. Mintz.

- Anybody in here with you?
- Nobody that could hear you.

Dark in here.
I can hardly see you.


Come here. Wait a second.
Come back. Come back here.

No, there's dead people in here.

I can't believe how silly you're acting.
This is ridiculous. You're a grown man.

Do you realize how scared
other people would be...

if they could see you walk through
doors and walls that don't exist?

There's nothing scary about a hologram.
It's scientifically explainable.

But how do you explain...

There are no such things
as ghosts.

You say that
in the middle of all of this?

These are skeletons, not ghosts.

I think I saw that one move.

Al, if you could
just help me, please.

Mintz's equipment is a lot more
sophisticated than I thought.

Yeah, tell me about it. That damn thing
is allowing other people to hear me.

I know.

If Jimmy had half of a brain,

he'd realize that no one is
that good of a ventriloquist.

Now, you think it's picking you up
through my brain waves or direct?

I don't know, and I don't care.

All I know is I don't want
anyone other than you hearing me.

Unless it's women.

You mean, like that blonde?


I'm not into necrophilia.

At last, something sexual
he's not into.

Not funny, Sam.

Look, if you could just show me
how we can alter these circuits...

to pick up low-voltage
battery emissions.

Oh, just start by unhooking
that hot pink wire.

Hot pink?


Tell me what you want.

I'm taking your silence...

as goodbye.


- It's working.
- Of course it's working.

It's picking up a transmission...
a battery transmission in the tomb.

I think we found it, Al.

- Oh. This is a fresh one.
- 1948?

Well, it could still have...

yucky stuff.

Geez, Sam.

Ah, look at this!
Do I have to?

Here's your ghost.

Aah! Oh, Sam. Ha, ha, ha.
Don't do that.

That's a very quiet ghost.

- I can hear the tape hiss.
- Thank God for disks.


Would it be possible
to record a voice...

only to be heard by ears
sensitive to high frequencies?

You mean, like dogs?

Yeah, and some people,
usually women.

Be tricky.
Would take an electronic genius.

Yeah, I know.

Sam, this thing is
remote-controlled and gang-loaded.

If there were any
other recorders around,

you might have started them
too when you started...

Sam? Sam! Wait!

I can locate Troian. Sa...

Gooshie? Have Ziggy
center me on Troian.





Oh, God!

What? I don't wanna hear about
"we can't get a lock."

You tell Ziggy if he doesn't
center me on Troian right now,

I'm going to feed
his sex-sensory microchips...

to Tina's crocodile!

Julian, I love you.
You must know that.

Do I have to join you
to prove it?


Then what do you want?

I want you to live.

But the painting...
why are we together under the lake?

Because that's where
I need you, Sis.

I really thought I could quietly
drive you to the funny farm,

but I see that's
not gonna happen.

You see, I got this I.O.U.
to these bad dudes in Vegas.

And now I gotta kill my sister.
Talk about your bad days.

- Stop it!
- I wish I could.

Fiscal year's ending,

and when you find out how
much of your bread I've spent,

you're really gonna flip.

You'll revoke my power of attorney,
start running things your way again.

- You're insane.
- Not technically.

See, I know the difference
between right and wrong.

I just choose wrong.

Now, why don't you do us both
a favor and step off the dock?

- Jimmy!
- Julian's waiting.

No, he's not.

- How did you do that?
- She didn't.

Oh, doing a little yin yang on me?

Jimmy, let me help you.

Sure, Sis. Jump.




Spook games are over.


You gonna jump,
or do I have to push you?


I'm not gonna die for Julian,
and I'm damn well not gonna die for you.

I'm gonna hate this.

Jimmy. Stop!

Run. Run, baby, run!

No! No.

Let go, Jimmy!

Let me go! Stop!



Gooshie, center me on Sam now!

Sam, Troian's 10 feet over that way,
eight feet down!

Come on, Sam. Hurry up.
Another five feet, and she's gone!

Look at these clothes.

I think you'll find
this is Nathaniel Claridge's wife,

and this is his butler.

He drowned them
over 131 years ago.

I don't know
if I can handle this, Tim.

Yes, you can.

My brother tried
to drive me insane.

He wanted to kill me.
How can I live with that?

He was sick, Troian.
Very sick.

I know it's no excuse,
but that's what you have to remember.

I want to.

You survived Julian's death...

and all the horrors
that Jimmy put you through.

You'll survive this too. That's the
difference between you and your brother.

You're a survivor.

There's, uh, no sign of your brother,
Mrs. Claridge. I'm sorry.

He drowned trying to save you,
did he?


Who are the bodies?

Well, sir, I believe that one of 'em
is Mrs. Claridge's husband.

- Julian?
- No, no. No.

Look, he... he drowned
over three years ago.

Well, Mrs. Little says the other two bodies
have been down there over a hundred years.

This lake is deep. The temperature at
the bottom must be around freezing.

They look better than some
I've seen fresh dead.

- Why would they come up now?
- The quake.

Must have shook 'em free.

I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm gonna have to
ask you to identify your husband.

I'm scared, Tim.

I'm here.

Yes, you are.


Mrs. Claridge?
I'm so sorry.

If there's anything I can do...

No. You've all been very kind.

If you'd like to come up,
I'll have my housekeeper, Miss Stoltz,

put on some hot tea and coffee.

- Miss Stoltz.
- Yes. Do you know her?

No, but it's quite a coincidence.

Uh, Nathaniel's wife, Priscilla,
was a Stoltz.

Yes, um, a Mennonite, I believe,
from Pennsylvania.

What's wrong?
You two look like you've seen a ghost.

Oh, boy.