Author's Note: Set in early season 1. This is my take on an ELF. I'd like to point out that English isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar and spelling issues. I hope you enjoy the story and if you do take the time to read it, please also take a few seconds to review and let me know what you think. It would mean a lot to me to hear from you and I do accept anonymous reviews.

Disclaimer: SeaQuest is the property of Amblin Television and Universal Television, and was created by Rockne S. O'Bannon. Any original characters and the plot are the property of the author. No profit is being made from this story.

Prologue

It was late evening and it would have been too dark to see in the small room, had it not been for a soft moonlight that chased away the night and sent ghostly shadows dancing on the walls. It was a slow and silent dance, but it kept the boy in the bed wide awake, teasing and haunting him with their illuminating presence. Even though the sun had long ago been forced to surrender to the night sky, the evening was still hot and humid and carried a silent hint of the coming day's heat. The boy sighed, slowly dragged himself out of bed and walked towards the veranda. The old wooden floor felt cold against his bare feet and he brushed a strand of damp, blond hair out of his eyes. He stood quietly on the veranda for a little while and watched how the sea and sky merged in perfect harmony, blending together at the horizon in the far distance. The soft evening breeze carried the soothing melody of waves crashing onto a sandy beach, and scents of salt and wild flowers swirled around him, captured and calmed him. The boy closed his eyes and wondered how life around him could appear so peaceful when so much inside him was hurting and in turmoil. He couldn't shake the feeling of being out of tune with the world, of being the one standing on the outside looking in.

His parents noticed early on that he wasn't like other children his age. He learned to read when he was at the tender age of three and always had an aptitude for math, a natural talent rarely seen in a boy so young. When other children were busy reciting the alphabet, he was already a voracious reader, losing himself in written worlds and devouring everything from Robinson Crusoe to the works of Shakespeare. He was labeled a child prodigy and a genius, but most of all he was misplaced, misunderstood and lonely. His superiority made him a reluctant rebel and his teachers eventually grew tired of the attention his intelligence demanded but he himself never really asked for, and he was recommended to skip a few grades and move straight to high school. He graduated high school early and went on to college as a young teenager, something he had been looking forward to since starting school. For him, going away to college would mean finally being able to trade loneliness for companionship. It would mean finding a place where he could talk and not just speak, a place where his voice would be heard and not just silenced. He would be where he was supposed to be and for the first time in his short life he would feel that school was something more than just a place where he bored and dejected had to check and re-check his watch to see the sweep hand move as slow as dripping honey on a cold winter's day. Coming there would be like entering a new kind of world entirely, like being given the keys to a kingdom with unlimited opportunities and possibilities. A brand new start. But the fairy tale ended somewhere between a child's wishful dreams for a happier future and walking into class the morning of his very first day. Much too soon he found out that it didn't really matter that he was just as smart as his classmates and had every right to be there, because all they saw was his young age. You can spend your early years sitting in a room surrounded by people who look just like you but your mind is somewhere far, far away, way ahead of you, and when you finally get a chance to catch up with yourself, to travel to that place, you just find yourself searching the room for an empty seat. Another incomplete verse in the song of his life, another verse torn by strife.

He had been wanting to find acceptance among his college peers but instead found that the more he tried to fit in, the more he stuck out as someone who tried to act older than he actually was. He had seen a boy who desperately wanted to belong to something, but that something never really opened its doors to him, no matter what he did or didn't do. His father, a notable and successful scientist with a fine reputation, had seen a boy desperately in need of discipline, on the verge of spinning out of control. Determined to set him on the right course again, he pulled some strings and managed to get him stationed on seaQuest, the submarine that patrolled and explored the ocean. It was easy for his father to see it as a necessary solution to a dire situation. It was just as easy for his son to see it as yet another rejection, yet another closed door that threatened the future he was trying to achieve while it reminded him of the past he was trying to escape. At eight, he learned just how soothing it could be to bury your face in a pillow when your parents had forgotten your birthday. If no one saw the tears, perhaps he could pretend he wasn't sad. At eleven, he learned just how easy it was to turn away when someone said you were a nobody. If no one saw the wound, perhaps he could pretend he wasn't hurt. At fourteen, he learned just how comfortable it could be to stand in the middle of a crowd, even if the crowd didn't want you there. If no one saw him alone, perhaps he could pretend he wasn't lonely. At sixteen, he knew everything about bending, twisting and polishing lies, until eventually they shone so bright they could be passed off as truths. At sixteen, he knew everything about dry tears, invisible scars and imaginary friends.

When rejection becomes your unwanted acquaintance you start to assume you must be doing something completely, unfathomably wrong and slowly but surely a seed of doubt will start to linger and grow inside your mind, clouding your vision and taking away your light and eventually it will blossom into full-blown darkness. He kept trying but each time his attempts ended in failure he felt hope slowly dwindle away and self-doubt quickly take hold. The bridges he so desperately had attempted to build turned into walls instead and he excelled in hiding behind them. Unreachable. Untouchable. Unharmed. He had spent his first few weeks on seaQuest putting up more walls, shielding himself with sarcasm and pushing people away while secretly wishing for them to come back. The child within still lingering, searching for a lost voice, searching for a lost memory of a fairy tale holding a happier ending.

So once again he stood there, with the same old song ringing in his ears; Too young to be old, too old to be young. He ran his fingers through his hair and felt the soft wind in his face; A sweeping, whistling veil that wrapped him in invisible warmth. The beach was still the epitome of calmness, stillness and serenity, but in the distance, far away and beyond the safety of the veranda, the winds were slowly changing, turning into something a little more chilly and viscous. A small yet unmistakable indication of tension lingered in the dark night and it crept slowly closer to shore. Had the boy known that the stillness of the night would soon turn into something much more frightening he might have stayed out there for a little while longer, relishing the calm before the storm, breathing the clean air and admiring the power of the ocean. But Lucas turned around, went back into the room and let the doors close behind him, like they've done so many times before. The song of history echoing in the night...