Author's Note: some elements have been changed from canonical tradition. For example, Lucas Wolenczak graduated from Stanford with an M.S. in Artificial Intelligence, as well as a subject concentration in physics/mathematics. Some dates may appear suspiciously outside canon.
This is a "pre-seaQuest" story.
Please send comments, critiques, polemics, sonnets, et cetera . . .!
Copyright 1999 by SheriAnn
Away from Monsters
Part Four
"Sir!" Ben practically shouted, but lowered his voice at last moment. "Lucas-he just squeezed my hand. He's awake, sir! Awake!"
Caught open-mouthed, Nathan simply stared. And he watched, numerous emotions flooding through his mind, as Lucas's other hand slowly lifted and waved a weak hello at him. Waved at him! Carefully, he sat beside Lucas, gently touching his cheek. As he touched Lucas's forehead, the boy's eyebrows furrowed lightly, a soft moan escaping his lips. Quickly, Nathan looked over at Ben.
"Get Doctor Westphalen in here," he said softly, then snapped as Ben continued to stare, "Now!"
With that, Ben practically ran out of the room, his loud voice calling for Doctor Westphalen.
And, in fear, Nathan watched as Lucas's eyes began to flutter open, focusing on him with difficulty. Nathan suddenly wished he'd gone for Doctor Westphalen instead. He wasn't prepared for this; he should've been the last person Lucas woke up seeing. After what he'd done, Lucas might very well hate him.
"Captain?" Lucas whispered softly, blinking to steady his vision. "I'm still . . . alive?"
The question stumped him. Finally, after a long silence in which he gently held Lucas's hands in his own, Nathan carefully nodded. He swallowed hard, trying vainly to dislodge the large lump in his throat and to control his emotions. He inhaled deeply, shakily, then said, "Yes, you're still alive, Lucas. Still . . . still alive."
Lucas paused, slowly digesting the fact that he was alive. It seemed . . . strange to him, odd. Somehow, he was still here: alive, breathing, existing. He had really wanted, had really tried . . .
He blinked, stricken. No. He didn't want to go there. Not now.
Hell.
Lucas forced his mind back to the captain. He cleared his throat. "Are-are you all right, sir? I didn't-frighten you, did I?"
Nathan was pained by the question. It was almost like Lucas didn't think anyone would care whether he lived or died: parents, friends, anyone. How could he think this? How, for heaven's sake, could he think this?
Nathan clenched his fists, wanting to hit something, anything. The answer was obvious. How could Lucas think otherwise? His parents had pretty well assured Lucas's self-hatred. When someone's words and actions told you again and again that you were worthless, you eventually began to believe it. Lucas, obviously, believed it. Yet how was Nathan to change that view?
Seeing Lucas's questioning gaze on him, Nathan tried to smile. "Yes, I'm-I'm all right, Lucas. A bit frightened, but all right. Just glad to see you awake," he paused, sighing. The sigh turned into a grin as he saw a small smile cross Lucas's face. "It's damned good to see that smile again, kiddo."
Nathan turned towards the door as he heard a throat clearing behind him, then beckoned in Doctor Westphalen. He watched, curiosity forcing a dark left eyebrow upwards several inches, as Ben quietly slipped out the medbay door before Lucas could see him.
After clearing his throat, Nathan motioned towards Lucas. "He's up and talking, Doctor. Seems a little tired, but, all things considered, I think he's doing pretty well."
Westphalen shot him an unspoken we'll see about that. Their eyes met momentarily; Nathan nudged his head slightly towards the door, a question reflected his eyes. Kristin carefully replied, her eyes never leaving Nathan's, "Ben needed to get back to the bridge. He'll be back a bit later."
Ah. Nathan hid a slight smile at Kristin's tactics. Doctor Westphalen certainly wasn't renown for her subtlety, but she could be frighteningly subtle when the need arose. Having Ben hanging around Lucas probably wasn't the wisest choice right now. He wasn't too sure Lucas would know how to handle his best friend knowing why he'd tried to kill himself. He also wasn't too sure Krieg would know how to talk to Lucas for ten minutes without either teasing him or verbally stumbling over his own feet.
Kristin returned his smile, then pulled out her stethoscope. "How are you feeling, young man? And I want the truth: no exaggerations, omissions, et cetera."
Lucas sighed, looking entirely miserable. "A little fuzzy headed. Achy. Tired."
"Well, young man, that's to be expected after what you've done to your body. You're lucky you're still feeling anything enough to be hurting."
He looked away, wanting to crawl under something, wanting to hide.
Kristin placed her hands on her hips and frowned. "Lucas Daniel Wolenczak-" the name alone made him blink quickly, "-you will please remember, in the future, never, never to do something so stupid! You practically scared the captain silly, not to mention the rest of this boat! Poor old Tim has been waiting outside your room for hours on end, looking like the world was about to turn against him. There're a lot of people who care for you, Lucas. And you practically sent them all into hysterics."
Lucas groaned, rolling his eyes-then blinking quickly as his vision swayed. Doctor Westphalen, of course, caught his mistake and sighed. She squeezed his hand carefully, her voice softening. "Lucas, you've just about bled yourself dry. You'll be okay, but your blood pressure is still very low, as is your pulse and heart rate. Move slowly, or you'll pass out."
Looking down to avoid her upset eyes, Lucas wished he hadn't; he found himself staring at his wrists, which were wrapped behind enough gauze to fully cover a mummy. They were a pointed reminder of his own stupidity, if he even needed such a reminder with Westphalen almost breathing smoke out her nostrils. He finally nodded. "I'm-I'm sorry. I never meant . . ."
He sighed, unable to finish. In truth, he didn't know what he had meant to do.
Suddenly, he felt a light touch against his cheek; looking up, he found Bridger's hand resting against his face. Bridger warm eyes gazed on him in understanding, in concern: in a thousand things that Lucas couldn't quite identify. He smiled slightly. "You know, Lucas, don't get us wrong on this. We are angry-not with you, but with what you did: with how you hurt yourself."
Bridger paused, looking away. His eyes darkened. He then sighed, tapping his hands against his leg. His eyes flickered towards Lucas. "Lucas . . . do you understand what happened? Do you? You were brought here with blood dripping out of your veins. You were barely alive. We didn't know . . ."
He stifled the words, then explained, "We were frightened-no, horrified-that you did this, that we upset you so much that you did this." He pulled a frustrated hand through his hair, then sighed. "The thought of losing you . . . Lucas, do you see that we care for you? That we don't want to see you in pain? Do you see this, Lucas?"
Words trapped in his throat, Lucas looked away. Unshed tears burned his eyes.
"Lucas," Kristin began, leaning towards Lucas and meeting his eyes. "Talk to us. Please. Don't shut us out now."
The tears spilled down his cheeks: hot, raw. He pushed them away.
"Do you want to talk about it, Lucas?" she asked softly, sitting beside him.
He shook his head, pushing new tears away with one trembling, bandaged hand.
Krisitin paused, then looked at Nathan. After a second's thought, she looked back at Lucas. "Are you tired?"
Lucas simply nodded, not trusting his voice.
"Why don't you get some rest? That's probably what you need most right now."
Tears now drying on his skin, Lucas squeezed his eyes shut. He again nodded. With a slight twist of his body, Lucas curled up on the narrow bed. A slight tremor ran through him, then eased. He settled into stillness, hoping for peace, for sleep. He also hoped nightmares of a gleaming knife and spilling blood would sleep now, too.
*****
Moments later, Kristin and Nathan met in her office. She quietly shut the door behind her.
Nathan inhaled deeply, then looked at her. "What next?"
Slumping into her desk chair, Kristin shook her head. "Anything-everything." She sighed, frowning. "It's up to all of us, to a degree. We'll have to see what he's up to talking about. We watch him. We watch our own tongues. We let him open up at his own speed. Pushing too fast was what got us into trouble in the first place."
From the troubled furrow in her forehead, Nathan knew there was more. She soon continued, resting her face in her hands and mumbling, "The crew . . . Nathan, I don't even . . . what on earth are we going to tell them?"
Damn. Stuck to his chair as he watched Lucas through the long hours of waiting, Nathan hadn't even considered the crew. He only hoped Jonathon had done better.
But, truly, what could Nathan and Kristin do? It wasn't as if nearly two hundred people could overlook the obvious. Bandages like Lucas's couldn't just be hidden.
He rubbed a tired hand against his chin, feeling stubble, then looked back at Kristin. She was watching him with something approaching dread; if he had to guess, she, too, knew that covering this up was impossible. His hand rubbed at the strained muscles in his neck as he finally said, "Other than hiding why he did this, I don't think there's much we can do. This crew is smart enough to know a suicide attempt when it sees it."
A pause. Then Kristin asked, "What will we tell them, though, Nathan?"
"I don't know." He paced around the office, stopping several times to peer out at Lucas's sleeping form. He finally turned back to Kristin. "Maybe nothing. If it was another member of the crew, we wouldn't release the information, either."
"True." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What about the senior staff? Tim will most certainly want to know. So will Commander Ford."
Another pause. Bridger at last nodded. "I'll tell Jonathon. He'll need to know. Tim . . . I think he'll know not to push it."
Kristin leaned back in her chair, stretching tiredly. She looked back at Nathan. "One last detail, then, I guess."
He looked at her questioningly.
"Ben," she said simply. "He knows the truth, doesn't he?"
Nathan looked away. "Yeah. I think we'll need to tell Lucas that Ben thinks it has something to do with loneliness or something. I don't know."
A silent moment stretched between them, each looking carefully at the other. Finally, as the moment stretched, Nathan rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. He blinked. "God, I'm tired." He looked outside at Lucas, then back at Kristin. She looked like she hadn't slept in months. "I'll stay with him. You get some rest."
"No, I'll stay, too. I'll stay in here and finish up a few things. Just let me know if you need anything."
He paused, then nodded as he left her office. Pained, Kristin watched the captain as he moved towards Lucas and once more resumed his position at the teen's side. She looked down at her clasped hands, at the fingers that had refused to rise to Lucas's aid when he had most needed her; those nine weeks of sitting and doing nothing had almost cost Lucas his life. A frown darkened her strained face. She remembered seeing Lucas on the medical bed, his body almost lifeless, Nathan staring in horror at Lucas. She remembered Nathan's dark eyes staring in horror at her, too, but an entirely different horror: the horror of pain. She remembered Ben pulling at his shirt, scraping at the blood stains that wouldn't come clean. She remembered dry blood flaking from Lucas's skin as Nathan brushed his hand against the young man's fingers.
At last, the tears began to fall. Kristin swallowed hard, wanting to fight the memories but unable to do so.
*****
Hours later, Lucas opened his eyes. He stared at the bandages on his wrists, wondering . . .
Then it all came crashing back: a knife, blood, and medbay. He shuddered, pulling the blankets tightly around himself.
Someone stirred beside him. He slid his eyes in the direction of the sound, then blinked quickly.
The captain was still sitting beside him. He looked awful; Lucas wondered if Bridger wasn't looking worse than he himself was. After a second, he cleared his throat, then asked, "Sir? How long have you been here-I mean, waiting with me?"
Nathan smiled slightly. "Since this began."
It took Lucas, in his mind-numb state, a few seconds to calculate this. However, after those few seconds were up, he outright stared at Bridger. "Since this began? But that must have been . . . a long while ago. A really long while ago."
"True." Nathan smiled slightly, then admitted, "It's been about eight hours, maybe closer to nine, since the last time you woke up. Somewhere around there."
Silence. Lucas looked quietly at his bandaged wrists, then at the captain. He finally said, "You've been here all this time, sir? You should get some rest."
Nathan heard the guilt in Lucas's voice. He shook his head. "Don't feel bad about it. I wouldn't have been anywhere else during this. And I plan on staying a little while longer . . . at least until I feel you're going to be okay."
"I'm okay," Lucas assured him softly. He waved one of his bandaged wrists at him. "I may look like King Tut right now, but I'm feeling pretty good. I'll be okay."
Sitting slumped in his chair, Nathan stared at his own hands for several moments. He then looked back at Lucas, smiling slightly at the idea of the boy looking like King Tut. Thankfully, though, Lucas was alive rather than dead.
As the thought struck home, Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, the day's events finally catching up with his exhausted mind. They had almost lost Lucas because of a stupid mistake Nathan, himself, had made.
How could Lucas ever forgive him for what he had done? How could Lucas forgive him when Nathan couldn't forgive himself?
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Lucas's soft voice: "Penny for your thoughts, captain."
A momentary silence stretched between them before Nathan filled it. "Hmmm . . . right now, Lucas, my thoughts probably aren't worth a penny." He looked up, meeting Lucas's blue eyes with his own brown gaze. He sighed once more. "It's just been a long day, kiddo. I was just thinking about it all."
"You were thinking about when they brought me in, weren't you? Or when you came to talk with me about . . . my dad," Lucas stated, his voice still soft, almost hesitant. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to be all right, sir. You heard the doctor. There's nothing to worry about."
But it wasn't that simple; Nathan knew it, even if Lucas didn't. There was plenty to worry about.
Yet that probably wasn't what Lucas needed to talk about right now. With a visible effort, Nathan nodded. "I guess you're right." He sighed, then smiled over at Lucas. "Do you need anything?"
Another long silence passed between them; Nathan looked over at Lucas to find the boy staring at him searchingly. Finally, Lucas said, "No. I'm doing okay." He paused, then continued, "But are you all right, sir? I know . . . what I did . . . I didn't mean to hurt you. Any of you. But I think I have. Did-did you want to talk about it?"
Nathan looked at him in surprise, smiling slightly. "You would ask that, wouldn't you, kiddo?" His smile slipped. "It's just been a rough experience, Lucas. We didn't know if you would make it through this."
He inhaled sharply. After a moment, he said through a strained voice, as though continuing an interrupted conversation, "Ben . . . he found you. You scared him. And . . ." Again, Nathan unsteadily inhaled, pained. "And you scared me. I saw them bring you in, Lucas. And . . . I didn't know . . ."
He paused, unable to continue. His head pounded.
"Sir . . . please, no," Lucas interrupted softly, distressed at his captain's pain. "I-I understand. What I did . . ."
Bridger quickly, vigorously shook his head, placing a gentle finger over Lucas's lips. Seeing Lucas's questioning eyes, Nathan breathed sharply. "Lucas," he paused, then continued, "I didn't know if you would make it. I sat here, wondering how I could've been so stupid. How I could've acted so foolishly that I hurt you: the one I was trying to help, who I not only hurt, but hurt immensely."
He paused, seeing the confusion in Lucas's eyes. Nathan then explained, "You see, I went to see you without knowing how to help someone who's been in your position. I went in there thinking I could do my usual go in, go out routine, and you'd be healed. I've never been so wrong in my life."
Nathan carefully squeezed Lucas's hands, glancing at the bandages. "You see, Lucas, if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't be lying here. You wouldn't have hurt yourself. I'm responsible for almost killing you." He paused, the pain making his voice taut. "I pushed you too fast. You weren't ready to be pushed. Then I just . . . left."
After a moment, Lucas said softly, almost gently, "But sir . . . it was because you cared that you came to talk to me at all. You cared. That means the world to me. Please, don't-" Lucas paused, searching for the right words. "Please, don't hurt yourself over this. You came to help me, not to hurt me. That's what matters. I don't understand why you say it was stupidity. It was perhaps just . . . too fast for me. It frightened me."
Seeing Bridger about to speak, Lucas silently shook his head, a troubled frown on his face. He then said slowly, "Right after you left, sir, I felt . . . hope. But that hope frightened me. I thought it would be false hope, as it always had been before." He inhaled deeply, then said with pain, "I-I had always had that hope-broken before. I expected it to be the same. Even more so, now. It-seems, though . . ." Lucas stopped in confusion, looking at Bridger with unbelievably wide blue eyes. A chaos of emotions crossed Lucas's features: perplexity, astonishment, hope, fear.
Seeing the hesitation, Nathan gently probed, "Seems what, Lucas?"
Lucas was silent a moment, thinking. Then, very slowly, with great difficulty, he said, "It seems, truly, that I can believe in you, in . . . what you say." He paused, inhaling deeply and drawing his knees up to his chest in what Nathan would have considered a highly self-protective position. Nathan noticed that Lucas looked amazingly vulnerable-disconcerted, intrigued, and terrified all at once. The harsh barriers Lucas had always erected were gone, suddenly completely vanished; what was left was a frightened child all too accustomed to betrayal and pain. Lucas swallowed hard, then forced himself to say through a strained throat, "It is . . . hard . . . for me to do so, though."
Lucas paused, shaking slightly. "It has been-has been a very long time since I could . . . trust someone. No . . . " he shook his head abruptly, a frightened, pained look fleeting across his face. "I-I have trusted, but . . . but . . . always . . ."
The voice broke.
Seeing the pain, the fear in the boy's eyes, Nathan carefully drew Lucas against his chest-knees and all. Lucas trembled. Quietly, Nathan just held Lucas against him, gently stroking the blond hair away from Lucas's face, massaging the strained muscles around his neck. After a moment, Nathan felt tears soaking through his shirt; carefully, he allowed him to cry unhindered for the first time in what the captain suspected had been a long time.
*****
Day four in medbay under the careful eye of Doctor Westphalen and her paranoid staff had begun.
Lucas felt like he battled dragons just to be allowed to use the bathroom.
He blew an errant strand of blond hair out of his eyes, then sighed. His eyes quickly looked towards the door as both Doctor Westphalen and Captain Bridger entered, Lieutenant Ben Krieg following in their footsteps. His bored expression quickly transformed into a smile.
"Ben!" He would have waved, but he figured the gesture would have looked somewhat stupid, considering the rolls of gauze wound around his wrists. He settled for asking instead, "So, when do I get out, Doctor Westphalen?"
She scowled at him, then shook her head, apparently deciding his comment didn't deserve a reply. Instead, she asked, "And how are you feeling today, Lucas?"
He simply shrugged. "Better."
"Ah." She reached his side, glancing at his arms. "How about your wrists?"
"They . . . hurt." That was putting it mildly. He felt like a laser beam was dancing a merry little jig within his flesh, but that was better than it had been the day before.
"Hmm. Hurt, as in 'can't take that pain' hurt, or hurt, as in 'a mild distraction' hurt?"
"Hurt, as in 'Ouch! Would someone please stop pounding at my veins' hurt! Or, at least, something like that."
"Well, despite the pain, you seem to be getting better quite nicely, my boy." He groaned at her name for him: boy. He sometimes felt all of ten years old around her. As she pulled out her stethoscope, she gave him a shrewd look. "You've got company. I'll let you visit with Ben as long as you promise to behave yourself and hold the thermometer in your mouth for a whole minute without complaining. Do we have a deal?"
Nathan snorted, interrupting as he tossed an incredulous look at Ben: "What, you ask for good behavior with Krieg in the room?"
"He'd better be on his best behavior, or I'll force him to listen to one of your lectures on abusing UEO resources," Dr. Westphalen said, honoring both her patient and the captain with a withering glare.
Always loving to be the subject of such heated discussion, Ben loped over, sitting down with a smug smile. "Hey, when I'm around, he's always on his best behavior. I'm not just a good influence on him: I'm a great influence!"
This time, both the captain and the doctor glared at him. Westphalen added, "Yeah, a great influence for what, Ben? Naughty behavior?"
Lucas laughed inwardly as his friend shook his head, then waited semi-patiently as Westphalen listened to his heart and then his lungs. His semi-patience gave way to impatience, however, as she stuck a thermometer in his mouth and a blood pressure cuff around his arm. Murmuring around the thermometer, Lucas mumbled indignantly, "Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Why, no," she quickly answered, smiling mischievously. "And you're so fun to poke and prod, Lucas. I should be gone in a few hours or so."
Blinking quickly, Lucas groaned. He then smiled around the thermometer as Ben playfully leaned over his bed and began tickling his feet. Ben's antics came to an abrupt end as Doctor Westphalen glowered his way. "Lieutenant Krieg, you will please be careful to not torment the patient. He has to move slowly. That doesn't include ticklings or any such things."
Sheepishly, Ben quickly removed his hand, winking at Lucas. "Well, I was just trying to bring a smile to his face. And see? It worked. He smiled."
With a hurumph, Westphalen quickly rejoined, "Yes. Probably because he likes to see someone other than himself in trouble for a change." She glanced at her patient. "Not that that'll last for long, mind you. Your time will come." She pulled out the thermometer, then nodded. "Much better. You're on the mend, Lucas."
He thanked his lucky stars (knowing that the sooner he mended, the sooner he escaped medbay), then grinned at Krieg as the lieutenant fiendishly tried to sneak behind Westphalen's watchful eyes and tickle him. He kicked the offending hand back, then straightened his face as Westphalen looked from Krieg back to him with a look threatening impending doom. "What, Doctor? I was just sitting here . . ."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, just sitting there, eh? Well, I can see you're definitely feeling better." She then glared over at Krieg. "And must I remind you, lieutenant? No disturbing the patient. If he blacks out, I'll blame you for it. Even if a gigantic sea monster comes and konks him over the head, I'll be looking at you. Understand?"
Again sporting a sheepish look, Krieg nodded. "Yes, doctor. I understand perfectly," he said. But he quickly winked at Lucas, suppressing a smile and watching as Lucas grinned in return. By the time Westphalen looked back at her patient, his face was perfectly innocent looking.
Of course, Bridger had seen the whole scene and was trying to keep from laughing outright. He also couldn't help wondering how often these antics went on behind his back; probably quite frequently, given both Lucas and Ben's mischievous inclinations.
"Okay." She paused, then suddenly hugged Lucas, gently kissing his forehead. She pulled back, stroking his hair away from his face. "Well, I guess I'll get back to my office. You seem to be doing pretty well. Now, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. Have Ben or the captain come and get me, and I'll be right in. Take it easy, though. No dancing, standing on your head, laughing outrageously: you get the idea."
Lucas frowned, pouting. "No fun, you mean." Seeing her expression-narrowed eyes, frowning lips, hands on hips-he quickly smiled. "Just kidding. I get the idea. I'll be a good boy."
At that, her eyebrows nearly rose straight into her hair. "That'll be the day." She glanced quickly at Ben and Nathan, sternly pointing at each in turn. "Remember our deal, Lucas: behave! That goes for you two, too."
With that, she squeezed Lucas's hand and walked out, giving them one last glance before she left.
"Well, that was fun," Lucas lied, settling into his bed and smiling comfortably. "Is she always that bad with her patients?"
Nathan chuckled. "Oh, yeah. Especially when she has a recalcitrant patient. She's the worst then."
"Not that I'd know, of course," Ben said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I remember the last time I hurt my arm playing tennis; she threatened to break it just to save me the trouble. Keeps saying I'm dangerous with a racket or something."
"Yeah, especially if you're talking the seedy, under-the-table type of racket. Or is that racketeering?" Lucas mused innocently, grinning as Ben thumped his leg.
"Or the racket you make when playing on your synthesizers," Ben returned quickly. "I'm not exactly sure which is worse: my racketeering or your racket."
The captain rolled his eyes. "Both! You know, Ben, you're a terrible influence on this boy! Already once today, I've seen him sneaking behind Westphalen's back because of you." He glanced at Lucas. "Not that he needed much encouragement towards mischief."
Lucas growled, rolling his eyes as Ben chuckled in delight. He would have whacked Ben on top of the head, but his bandages prevented him from doing so. Instead, he settled for sticking his tongue out at the man.
Bridger shook his head, looking across at Ben. "You were saying something about being an influence on him, Ben? I can see exactly what type of influence, you know."
Ben looked at him innocently, but the innocent look just didn't work all too well on Benjamin Krieg. Of course, Lucas suspected not even a halo and wings would make his friend look innocent.
Much later, after Ben had finally decided to leave-supposedly to catch up on his inventory, though Lucas believed his "catching up" might involve watching women in slinky clothes more than counting the number of field rations currently in storage-Lucas felt Nathan clap a supportive hand to his shoulder. The captain was looking better; he'd actually gotten a bit of sleep in the last twenty-four hours. As the captain left for the bridge, Lucas noticed the spring to his step. He smiled slightly.
As for himself, he was feeling somewhat better. Not great, not by any means on top of the world, but not as bad as he had felt earlier. He didn't feel like killing himself. He wanted to play with Darwin. He wanted to work on his vocorder program. He even wanted to study a few physics equations he'd been struggling through last week.
He wanted to live again.