Contentions 3, a seaquest fanfic

Contentions 3

Please do not proceed without reading this . . .

Disclaimer: This is an amateur work meant in no way to infringe upon the rights of Amblin Entertainment or the Sci-Fi Channel. Lucas Wolenczak, Nathan Bridger, seaQuest, etc., are all the sole property of Amblin Entertainment and its cohorts in Hollywood. The Non-Allied Powers are my responsibility alone *sigh*> . . .

All musical lyrics belong to the fantastic work of Journey, one of my favorite bands. Most of it came from their most recent album, Trial by Fire. No disrespect (at all) is meant by inclusion into this work of fanfiction.

AUTHOR'S NOTE*: Rating: PG-13, rated as such because of some adult themes and language. This work is not meant for anyone under the age of 13--or for anyone who finds some discussion of sexual content uncomfortable. This is not explicit; however, the implications of eroticism exist.

Regarding Canon: This work is rather bizarre in its subject matter. It is certainly a product of my deranged mind! There are several instances of "canon violation" herein. The city "Crystannia" is also my own bizarre invention!

Consider this piece a lark, a digression, a distraction, etc. :) And a really, really, really strange one at that!

Okay, now that the boring stuff has been said, let the fun begin!

Prepare as you descend imagine Twilight Zone music eerily playing in the background . . .> into the Strange Zone . . . :)

Part Three

Twenty minutes later, they finally reached the hotel. Ben parked the jeep on the curb, glaring at the bell hop as he glared at him. This time, Nathan flashed his ID, and the bell hop fell away from them, stunned. Nathan slammed the delicate glass doors open, peering inside quickly, hopefully; but, unfortunately, no Lucas or Chienna met his eyes.

However, a glaring concierge did meet his eyes. The concierge walked briskly towards them, his face puckered, clearly about to launch into an explosion; Nathan simply flashed his ID and watched as the man's face paled. Then, ignoring the man entirely, he marched into the hotel's lobby, running towards the elevator and hitting the button for the fifth floor.

They entered, each staring at the floor, refusing to look at one another.

Finally, the elevator door opened and they marched out onto the fifth floor. Room 508: that's what Reynolds had said. Nathan cleared his throat, eyeing the gold-plated number floating on the door's surface. Again, he cleared his throat. Then, inhaling deeply, he knocked. Hard.

Well, there wasn't a No Disturbing sign, at least. That was a good thing.

After a minute, the door opened. A tired face peered at him, looking at him questioningly, curiously. Nathan could only stare. This wasn't Lucas.

"Uh," he paused, clearing his throat and trying to peer inside as inconspicuously as possible. "Uh . . . I was looking for Lucas Wolenczak and . . . err, Chienna Turneau. Are they here?"

The man looked at him, then blinked. "No . . . never heard of them. You must have the wrong . . . " he yawned ". . . room number."

Oh, hell and damnation, Nathan thought, apologizing quickly to the man and ushering his companions to the elevator. This was the right room number. This was the right hotel. This simply wasn't the right person!

As they rode down in the elevator, they stared at one another. Nathan wondered if Section Seven had lied to him. Ben wondered if Chienna was more sneaky than Section Seven gave her credit for. Miguel hoped Lucas was having a great time. Kristin wondered what they were going to do to get out of this one. As the elevator opened, all of them looked around, hoping to see the two--but no such luck.

Nathan strode to the concierge's desk, again flashing his ID. "I'm looking for Chienna Turneau and Lucas Wolenczak. They should be guests here. And this is an emergency."

The concierge stared at the ID for several moments, apparently trying to decide if he should talk to Nathan. Nathan answered that question for him by grabbing the little man's necktie and pulling it towards him. "Look, little man. I have to find Lucas Wolenczak. And I don't give a damned about guest confidentiality. This is a genuine emergency. And Mr. Wolenczak is one of my crew."

The concierge blinked at this, then cleared his throat. "Sir, they wouldn't be here. They only use our hotel as . . . smoke screen. They're actually staying at the Plazatrium."

"The Plazatrium?" Nathan repeated, then sighed. Damn. The Plazatrium just happened to be one of the UEO's most prestigious hotels, and, obviously, one of its most expensive hotels, too. He should have known. "Are you certain?"

At the man's nod, Nathan released the collar and strode out, climbing into the jeep and waiting impatiently for Ben to drive. Ben's eyes were wide, amazed, as he span the car around towards that icon of UEO wealth and power. He glanced at his captain, swallowing hard. "The Plazatrium, sir? Isn't that a bit . . . exclusive?"

Nathan growled, nodding. Then, he replied, "Yeah. Just a bit. Even I can't afford that place." He paused, then added, "But considering the size of the crowd tonight, I guess we shouldn't be surprised. Apparently, Quest is doing rather nicely."

He thought of the small allowance fund he'd been holding for Lucas, money Lucas's father sent on a monthly basis and which he, in turn, stuck in a bank account for Lucas. It was at about three hundred credits now. And he suddenly felt like it was the biggest joke he'd ever thought of. Lucas was making more than that per second as a member of Quest. What on earth was keeping him from joining the group full time? What was keeping him on the seaQuest?

And, suddenly, it hit him; Lucas wanted to stay on the seaQuest. That was the only reason he would have stayed with a musical career like this blooming on the side.

At last, they arrived at the Plazatrium. It was a huge building, shaped like an ancient Greco-Roman atrium, except its marble shone in the darkness, a marble enmeshed with small flakes of crystal: crystallium, one of the most expensive and luxurious substances created by man to date. It literally glowed against the night sky. Huge windows peeked out between the crystallium walls, beautiful chandeliers dropping down in graceful splendor. Nathan had never been inside the Plazatrium. He'd never planned to set foot within its hushed halls.

But, tonight, he was going to. They pulled in front of the elaborate fountain that hid the entrance, then--glaring at yet another bell hop--they completely ignored the man's insipid whine about procedures and décor and marched right into the most exclusive, expensive, reserved hotel in the UEO. The concierge looked up from a crystal counter, seeing them rush in with an enraged bell hop in tow. He pursed his lips, and Nathan ironically wondered if all concierges wore the same ridiculously haughty expression on their faces. He pulled out his ID, nodding at his companions to do the same thing, and snapped, "I'm Captain Nathan Bridger of the UEO submarine seaQuest. I'm looking for one of my crew . . ."

Smiling patronizingly, the man interrupted, "Captain, I'm sure you'll not find a member of your crew within our premises . . ."

"Oh?" Nathan argued, staring the man down. "His name is Lucas Wolenczak. He would have entered with one Chienna Turneau, a member of Quest. Which room are they in?"

Obviously quite surprised--or shocked--the man blinked. "Ms. Turneau is here, that is true, but . . ."

"Where is she?" As the man stubbornly refused to divulge the required information, Nathan then asked, "Look, if I have to knock at every damned door in this building, I am finding my crewman. This is an emergency. Where is she?"

The man glanced at his records, then whined, "There is no Lucas Wolenczak signed in here. Only a . . ."

"Young One. I know." Nathan inhaled deeply, trying to keep from killing this idiot. His fingers itched to wipe that obnoxious smirk from the man's face. "Of course he didn't sign in under his real name. He's been protecting it for years now . . . even I didn't know. What makes you think he'd change that now?"

The man stared at him uncertainly.

Finally, Ben stepped forward. "Look, rat . . ." Shocked, the man glared at him. "If we don't find Lucas soon, we're going to have a bit of a crisis on our hands. And so are you. Have you ever heard of statutory rape?"

This time, the man paled. He stared at them.

"Section Seven is involved in this. Lucas Wolenczak is fifteen years old. Ms. Turneau is older than her guest is--by about twice his years. We're here to stop anything that could lead to disastrous results from happening. And you know what happens when Watchers are involved. Publicity is usually nasty."

The man had turned white. Simpering, he said, "He is young. I did notice this. But . . . we have an exclusive . . ."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Nathan interrupted, inwardly congratulating Ben's tactics. Sometimes outright threats worked wonders. "Where are they?"

Several seconds later, the information in tow, Nathan and company once again stepped into an elevator; this time they only had to go to the second floor. The elevator opened onto a palatial hall, gold engraved in the sides, huge plants hanging from unseen baskets high in the marble walls. Crystal orbs of a gentle hue gave off soft light, suspended from some unknown point. Cherry wood, sculpted in the shape of leaves and roses, lined the bottom walls. Nathan blinked, looking around and then spotting what he was looking for: room 12. The letters were scrolled into the marble wall, looking like peacock feathers delicately cast in marble--impressive. But Nathan paid no heed to the artistry of the number plate and struck his fist against the cherry wood door.

Several minutes passed. Silence.

Then, suddenly, he heard laughter. Distinct laughter--a woman's voice.

Annoyed, Nathan pounded his fist into the door's beautifully carved surface, utterly ignoring the silk pillow attached to the door's gold handle. Please do not disturb was delicately embroidered on the lacy silk pillow, with tiny rose and purple silk flowers cascading down to the floor. Again, he pounded on the door, increasing the pounding as he heard the woman's voice again.

Chienna Eyeing Bridger?
Suddenly, the door swung open.

Nathan almost backed away from the glare on the other side of that door: hot, angry, almost violent brown eyes stared at him. Well, this was one good thing. At least it was the right person.

Nathan pulled out his ID, shoving it in her face. "Ms. Turneau, I'm Captain Bridger from the seaQuest. This is Lieutenant Krieg, Ensign Ortiz, and Doctor Westphalen. We're here to see Lucas--and damn it, I need to see him now."

She looked at the ID, then at him. For the first time, Nathan noticed her hair was soaking wet. She was wearing a silk robe, a towel draped around her shoulders. And, hell and damnation, from what he could see, there wasn't anything under that robe.

Oh, hell. Please say we're not too late . . . he thought angrily, wanting to scream. This was just too much.

"This, captain, had better be very, very good," she finally snapped, turning on her heel and leaving the door open. They walked in, sort of invited, hesitantly looking around the room as they entered. A fire burned in the huge marble fireplace, and candles--hundreds of them--were lit. Incense burned from small holders set in the marble walls, creating an almost intoxicating atmosphere. The chairs were Louis XIV style, with cherry wood tables sitting ponderously nearby; on one of the tables was a silver wine bucket loaded with ice and the shallow remains of a bottle of champagne. Chienna disappeared into a room on the right, opening and shutting its door quickly; steam wafted from its confines. They could see the room was dimly lit, with candles twinkling in the air, before Chienna slammed the door to their sight.

Left with yet another open door to explore, Nathan quickly wished he hadn't looked inside. He swallowed hard. Oh, hell. It was the bedroom. An enormous bed was in the middle of the huge room, a curtain of soft white silk strewn with silk white roses draping from straight above the bed's intricately carved headboard. The bed itself was rumpled, the heavy coverlets thrown back, exposing baby blue silk sheets. More candles burned, with incense floating in the air. Nathan saw another bottle of champagne beside the bed . . . right by the discarded clothing.

He exchanged glances with Ben, who was biting his lower lip as he stared at the clothing strewn across the bedroom floor.

Miguel suddenly cleared his throat, lifting a piece of cloth from the floor near the fireplace. "Hey, captain, a pirate shirt . . ." His voice suddenly drifted as Bridger scowled at him. Ben and Kristin looked like they wanted to hide. Nathan grabbed the shirt, glancing at its size. If he had to guess, this was Lucas's.

As he glared darkly at the shirt, the door to the bathroom opened and in walked--or weaved--one slightly tipsy Lucas Wolenczak, steam swirling around his figure. The teen was dressed in a blue silk robe, his hair soaked, water glistening off his pale skin. His blue eyes gazed from one face to the next, then looked at Chienna, as if perplexed how his two worlds had suddenly collided. He then looked back at them, focusing on the captain, concern apparent in his eyes. "Sir . . . this is a bit of a surprise. Is something wrong?"

Well, at least he's sober enough to grasp the obvious, Nathan thought with a sigh, looking the kid over. Lucas's eyes were outright glowing, his smile almost obscenely happy. A . . . love bite bruised his flesh right by the collarbone. Actually, several love bites could be seen, some by the ear, some by the wrist even, but most on the neck and throat. Nathan felt like crawling into a hole as he spotted love bites covering Lucas's ankles, the little marks then disappearing suggestively, even erotically up the inner portions of his legs. God. This lady was kinkier than he'd suspected. Nathan had a bad feeling the bites continued up well beyond the robe's hem line. Lucas's cheeks were flushed, and not all, or so Nathan suspected, from the champagne. Chienna stood beside him, her hand gently but protectively placed around his waist. Nathan was all too aware of the stare she was casting at him: it was a mean, aggressive, almost territorial stare.

He cleared his throat. "I'm . . . Lord, Lucas, I'm sorry to . . . barge in on you like this. It's inexcusable, I know. But . . . I had no choice . . ."

Lucas quickly shook his head, smiling slightly. "I know, captain--you wouldn't be here otherwise. Please, have a seat. I'll be right back." With that, Lucas walked into a room on the far right, flipping on a light. Nathan could see it was the kitchen, a beautifully decorated room filled with crystals and cherry wood. He could see Lucas pulling out a glass, then tossing two aspirins into his mouth and draining an entire glass of water. He then reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a cola. Rubbing absently at his forehead, he walked back in, sitting beside Chienna and squeezing her hand. Nathan tried not to watch it, but Chienna's hand was on Lucas's thigh in less than a second. This woman . . . was possessive of her young man.

Lucas looked at him, then prompted softly, "So? What's up, sir?"

God, Nathan felt--awful. He felt the incense in the room, the steam coming from the bathroom, the smoke from the candles. This was the most romantic scene, the most exotic scene, he'd ever been in, and he was ruining it. He was ruining it for a reason he couldn't agree with.

As Nathan seemed stumped, Lucas looked questioningly at Krieg. "Ben?" he asked, frowning slightly. "Miguel? Anyone?"

Finally, Nathan said, "Lucas . . . we've got a problem. A big problem."

Lucas suddenly snorted, leaning back in his chair and smiling. "I knew that. You wouldn't be here, in Crystannia at the Plazatrium in our hotel room, if that weren't the case. So, out with it, sir. What is it?"

Nathan sighed, a sound that almost ended as a groan. Lucas's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Lucas . . . God, you're going to kill me for this. But . . . Section Seven called me on this."

"Section Seven?" He looked carefully at Nathan's face. "What do those idiots want now?"

Again, Nathan sighed. Finally, he said, "Lucas, they were talking to me about--well, about you." As Lucas looked surprised at this, Nathan nodded, pre-empting any discussion on the point. "About certain . . . err, certain career paths you've taken alongside computer science."

"Career paths?" At Nathan's look of complete discomfort, Lucas quickly seemed to understand; he grinned. "You mean Quest, I take it?"

Nathan nodded. "Yes. Quest. They've been following your career there."

"Ah." Lucas looked puzzled for a moment, then, rubbing his forehead, he asked, "Forgive me if my thinking is a bit muddled right now . . . but . . ."

"What is the emergency?" Nathan finished for him. Lucas simply nodded. "Well, the emergency stems off of a certain--relationship involving a member from Quest."

Though he blushed slightly, Lucas said, "You can come out and say it, sir. She's obviously sitting right here."

Sighing, Nathan nodded. "Yes, your relationship with Chienna is why I'm here." He glanced at Chienna, noticing that her eyes were blazing at him. "I know you're angry at me, Ms. Turneau, but I really had no choice in the matter. Lucas is my crewmember. If Section Seven starts hounding me about something to do with him, I have to . . ."

"You have to what, Captain Bridger?" she snapped. Lucas gently squeezed her hand, obviously trying to calm her. "Barge in on us in the middle of the night . . ."

"Yes," Nathan stated flatly, looking at her with a harsh, unfriendly gaze. Seeing this, Lucas looked between them, confused. "If I must to protect a member of my crew . . ."

"Protect me, sir? From what?" Lucas looked around himself. "I don't see any agents or spies or . . ."

"It has nothing to do with that, Lucas, my love," she said softly, understanding suddenly why Bridger was here. She tightened her grip on Lucas's waist until he actually winced. "It's us he's here for. You, specifically."

As Lucas's gaze slid from her to him, Nathan sighed; finally, he nodded his head. "Yes, she's right. Lucas, you're under age. She's twice your age. That's the problem."

At this, Lucas narrowed his eyes. He blinked. "Under age?" Nathan silently nodded his head, and Lucas pulled a wet strand of hair from his eyes. As the hair flipped back, Nathan saw for the first time that the eyes were angry. Lucas's glare then settled on Ben and Miguel. "And you: are you here for the same reason?" At their silent, guilty nods, Lucas looked back at Nathan. His eyebrows rose. "Are you telling me, captain, that you're here for no other reason than to tell me about my age?"

Seeing the anger flashing in the young computer scientist's eyes, Nathan snapped, "Yes, Lucas, this is about your age. Section Seven gave me a call tonight. Section Seven: do you understand me? They told me in no uncertain terms that either I had to take care of this little relationship before it went too far, or they would. I'm afraid I didn't like the thought of their handling it, so I decided to do it myself."

"Section Seven? What the hell does Section Seven have to do with my age?"

Nathan now matched Lucas's anger with his own. "Quite a bit, apparently. The name for it, Lucas, is statutory rape. If you've never heard of it . . ."

At this, Lucas snorted. He gestured around himself. "Rape? Does it look like I'm being raped here, captain?"

"No, but that is beside the point," Nathan said with a sigh. He shrugged. "I know you're not being forced, Lucas. I know it. But this is about age, not about consent. The law says it must be between two consenting adults . . ."

"And I suppose you never had sex before you turned eighteen?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I didn't!" Nathan snapped. He ignored Ben and Miguel's utterly miserable expressions as he stood, pacing. "And I certainly didn't at age fifteen." He glared at Chienna. "And I certainly didn't seduce someone half my age, a fifteen year-old, into my bed! How could you?"

"Don't answer that, Chienna," Lucas said tightly, standing and confronting Nathan. "Let me get this straight. You have absolutely no problem with my being on the seaQuest, the largest submarine in the world, the submarine most likely to be attacked or called into a disaster situation. You have no problem in my playing with vortices and other dangerous forces. You have no problem in my playing saboteur for the UEO." Nathan scowled at this, knowing exactly the argument Lucas was putting together--and knowing it was a damned good argument, too. "But you do have problems with my sleeping with someone? Somehow, though I can play with some of the most dangerous equipment in the world, you can't handle my having sex?"

Slowly, Nathan placed his hands on Lucas's shoulders, trying to hold his attention. "Lucas, this isn't about me. This is about the law. And it's about Section Seven. They called me. Do you understand what that means? Do you?"

After a second, Lucas finally shook his head. "No, I don't. What?"

Nathan placed his hand behind Lucas's head, at the nape of his neck, again holding his attention. "If they caught you two . . . together . . . and had proof, they could drag this before the press, before the UEO, before whomever they chose. But they more than likely would be after information, not . . . political back-stabbing. They could question Chienna without supervision. And, even worse, my boy, they could question you. Without supervision. Do you understand why this scared the hell out of me? Do you?"

Lucas looked at him for several moments, then at Chienna, then at Ben and Kristin. He sighed tiredly, shaking his head. "Captain--sir--they could question me if they wanted to anytime of the day. And what good would it do them? My notes are on file; I have no problem talking about my theories. I understand that you're truly worried over this. I see that. But . . . I just don't see why."

Nathan tiredly placed his forehead against Lucas's, then looked him carefully in the eyes. Slowly, he said, "Lucas, you're a genius. You're a computer scientist of the highest talent I've ever seen. You're also the physicist who created the first vortex in scientific history. You're brilliant. Those bastards would like to have any excuse they could draw up to get you into their hands. Once they had you, I wouldn't be able to get you from them. Once they had you, they could do . . . anything. They could force you to work for them, they could give you truth serum, they could do whatever. They don't work legally. And, Lucas, one of them was warning me tonight to get this under control before they took advantage of the situation."

Chienna was watching now, her eyes very sharp. Nathan noticed she no longer looked like she'd skin him alive. "Do you sincerely believe this, captain? That they want Lucas that badly?" At his slight nod, she looked at Lucas, gently reaching for his hands. "Lucas, dear one, I want you to do exactly as your captain says. Exactly. If they are up to something, I don't want to give them the excuse they need." She paused, squeezing his hand and looking away from him. "And your captain is also right about another thing: our ages are wrong. I've known it for a long time. I've just . . . not wanted to give you up. You are so precious to me. But . . . you are . . . too young."

He knelt beside her, looking quietly into her eyes. Gently, she touched his cheek, a caress tender and loving. Nathan looked away, pained by the sight. What he was seeing--it wasn't seduction. It wasn't rape. It simply wasn't wrong--it wasn't what he'd expected to find. Chienna actually did seem to love Lucas; she actually did seem to care for him. She wasn't using him, and she wasn't hurting him. Nathan hated himself for disturbing their love, for disturbing their time together. But he also knew that, all matters of Section Seven aside, it was what was right. Lucas was too young for this . . . level of involvement. He wasn't ready for it. And she was far too old for him. She was too experienced, too mature for him. Lucas was very mature for his age, yes, but he wasn't mature enough for someone twenty-nine years old. The emotions, the commitment . . . Lucas just wasn't ready for these things.

Silently trying to avoid looking at either of them as they spoke gently in words too soft to be heard, Nathan met Ben's eyes and sighed. There was pain in those eyes. What Ben was seeing hurt him, too. They both knew how terribly shy Lucas could be with women, for they had both seen him trying to sustain idle chatter over dinner dates; the teen usually stumbled, faltered at the first mention of "date." And here he was with Chienna, obviously quite relaxed (a hell of a lot too relaxed, actually), enjoying a relationship with someone who loved him . . . only to have it so suddenly taken away.

As Lucas's gaze turned to them, troubled, almost agonized, Nathan willed himself not to crumble. He couldn't crumble. He couldn't give in to the desire even now striking through his heart, the desire simply to leave and let Lucas and Chienna . . . proceed with their night's enjoyment. Lucas's safety depended upon Nathan's ability to protect him, and right now that protection meant that Nathan had to come between the teen and a potentially nasty situation involving statutory rape. Nathan knew he would never forgive himself if harm came to this child because he had faltered in his duties as captain and friend.

Gently, Nathan placed his hands on Lucas's shoulders, waiting until Lucas looked back up at him. Finally, the blue eyes gazed his way and Nathan said softly, carefully, "It's about time to leave, Lucas. You'll need to get dressed. We should be going before anyone from Section Seven gets it in their minds that they should drop in for a visit."

With a silent nod, Lucas stood, again looking at Chienna. She merely smiled at him, trying to hide her tears, her anguish as she felt his gaze on her. "Go, love. It's all right. It's what . . . should be. I should have been strong enough to do this a long . . . long time ago." She sniffled softly, then added, "Go ahead and get dressed. You've got goose bumps running up your arms."

A troubled expression in his eyes, Lucas turned quietly and walked towards the bedroom, shutting it soundlessly behind him. As the door shut, though, Chienna absolutely fell apart. Tears flooded her cheeks. Subdued sobs broke through, and she hid her face, looking away from her visitors in shame. Face hidden, Chienna jumped when she felt Kristin's arms go around her in a comforting embrace. After a moment of silent perusal, Chienna openly sobbed into Kristin's shoulder, repeating over and over, over and over, "Oh, God, I've lost him . . . I've lost him . . ."

Kristin whispered words they couldn't hear, and Nathan gratefully turned away from the scene before him. This was just too painful. He felt like a troll, a monster, a miscreant . . . anything but what he had meant to be, a friend.

Several minutes later, Lucas walked out of the bedroom, looking like he had just been crying himself. His cheeks were slightly flushed--and this time not from ecstasy or champagne, but from the trailing of tears--and his eyes were red. But without hesitation, he walked quickly to Chienna's side as he saw her in misery. He gently held her hand, pressing it to his cheek until she controlled the sobs wracking through her enough to look his way. "Chienna," he began softly, touching her hair--the caress loving, tender. "I'll always be here. I'll always love you, even if . . . my age comes between us. Always, Chienna. I'll always be with you here . . ." he touched her forehead lightly ". . . and in your heart. God, Chienna, I love you. Truly."

He looked away momentarily, then said, pain in his voice, "I called Jerry--they'll be over soon. I tried explaining, but, Lord . . . I'm afraid I bungled the job." She smiled slightly, touching his chin. She was trembling, and Nathan, though he again willed himself not to see it, saw her eyes drifting towards Lucas's collarbone, towards his throat, towards the marble-like skin peeking out from his forest green collar. She inhaled sharply. Nathan grimaced; this was dangerous. This woman wanted Lucas so badly that she couldn't even control where her eyes were looking. He watched as she forced her eyes back to Lucas's face, and then--apparently finding his face just as tempting as his body--to her own hands.

Quickly, Nathan began to clear his throat--but was amazed when both Kristin and Ben did so at the same time. He stared at them, wondering, until he saw that they, too, had been watching Chienna. They were more than aware how close to yielding Chienna was. If they wanted to keep Lucas from succumbing to her desire, they had best whisk him right out of her view.

"Lucas," Nathan began, trying to catch their young genius's attention. "Lucas, we need to go now."

After a moment of nervous silence, Nathan was relieved to see Lucas's eyes finally look at him . . . and away from Chienna. Lucas swallowed hard, looking yearningly at Chienna, a look that scared Nathan, before he finally, unwillingly, stood up and walked away. Carefully, Lucas said, "If you want me to go with you, you had best leave now, sir."

Nathan knew the statement for what it was: both a plea to force him away from Chienna, and a plea to let him stay. Gently, he clapped his hand on the young man's back, then moved him towards the door and several feet away from Chienna. Ben quickly opened the door, and then . . . they were out. Before Lucas could change his mind, before Lucas could turn and look one more time at his love, Nathan rushed him through the door and into the elevator.

Lucas simply gazed at the floor, utter shock and desolation written across his features. As the elevator came to the first floor, he followed them, his eyes wide, distraught. His mind was obviously back with Chienna, as was his heart. Nathan sighed tiredly, suddenly feeling very old, as he ushered Lucas into the jeep and as Ben pulled away from the hotel. He looked at Lucas's features as they drove towards their boat, but what he saw pained him more than an arrow stabbing through his back.

Lucas looked . . . lost. Pained beyond belief. Almost tortured.

Why did doing what was right always hurt so much? Nathan wondered. He would have done anything to protect Lucas from pain. The Lord Himself knew the kid had had enough pain in his life. But to protect him, Nathan had hurt him. It was a paradox that sliced at his very heart.

Carefully, he pulled the teen to him, willing Lucas to forgive him, to understand that he hadn't done this--he hadn't separated him from Chienna--to hurt him. As Lucas first struggled against him, then collapsed into his shoulder, he finally felt tears burning through his shirt. Tears of pain, of loss.

Well, you ask . . . is that all? Not quite! :)

Authors (myself included!) LOVE getting feedback (critiques, etc.) . . . please feel free to email me with any comments!

afsad@uaa.alaska.edu or klythanne@crosswinds.net

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