Welcome to my whacked-out world. This my first "seaQuest" story, though I have been thinking about writing one for years. And I mean YEARS. I was a freshman in high scholl when this show originally aired and I watched it religiously. Over the past couple months I've been sucked back into it. BIG TIME. Thus, a story is born.
I really have no idea where this idea came from. Perhaps, from somewhere deep within the recesses of my weirdness. Yeah, I think I'll go with that.
This is for CFVici and CJane, who rekindled my seaQuest flame.
...For Observational Purposes
/MacLardy's Pub and Restaurant – Friday, 22 April – 2252 hrs/
Lucas couldn't help grinning. Now he understood why Ford had wanted him to tag along for "observational purposes". Their shore leave had dwindled down to its last few days and he had been hanging around the port for no other reason than to do that teenage thing of hanging-out. He had met some kids his age and spent the majority of the two-week shore leave with them, haunting the local teenage hubs. He had planned to spend the day relaxing at the beach with a good chunk of the seaQuest crew. And that's exactly what he had been doing when Commander Ford approached him with a request.
/Beach – Friday, 22 April – 1500 hrs/
Lucas sat on his towel, observing everything around him. He wasn't too interested in joining any of the various activities taking place. At the moment, he just wanted to enjoy the warm, breezy afternoon. Looking over at O' Neill, who was stretched out in a beach chair a few yards away, he smiled. It appeared the lieutenant had the same idea. Lucas couldn't blame him, especially after the morning the man had had.
"Hey, Lucas." The sound of Commander Ford's voice tore him from his thoughts.
"Hey, Commander. What's up?"
Ford knelt down on one knee beside him, putting himself between Lucas and O' Neill. "You have any plans tonight?" the commander asked in a low voice.
What's with the low voice? "No," Lucas answered, shaking his head.
Ford glanced over at O' Neill and then over at the group of volleyball players. Lucas wasn't sure if he was singling anyone out, but judging from Ford's glance at O' Neill, Lucas was sure whatever the commander was inquiring of him, it involved the lieutenant.
"O' Neill and Ortiz are going to MacLardy's this evening. Now Henderson's already going with them to keep them out of trouble…."
Trouble? Lucas raised an eyebrow. What kind of trouble would Tim and Miguel get into? And he preferred to use would instead of could because he was positive those two could get into some big time trouble. Miguel was a blast to be around and Tim could be a total blast. You just had to get him motivated. But trouble with only three days of shore leave left? Lucas wasn't sure he wanted to know. However….
Ford grinned at the teenager's expression. "I want you to tag along for observational purposes."
Lucas raised an eyebrow again. "Observational purposes?" He thought on it for a moment. He hadn't planned anything for himself for the evening. Besides, MacLardy's had its own arcade (and a good one, at that) and the fact that the commander had utilized the words observational purposes had piqued his curiosity. So he agreed. "Sure."
"Good." Ford patted him on the shoulder and walked away.
He glanced over at O' Neill as soon as Ford was gone. The lieutenant hadn't budged. He was still stretched out in his beach chair, his hands behind his head, glasses on top of his head and hat over his face. He was either asleep or just ignoring everyone. Both were plausible.
Lucas picked up his towel and moved next to O' Neill. "Tired?" he said in a semi-sarcastic tone.
O' Neill smirked under his hat. "And I suppose after a mere three rounds of competitive Frisbee…you're exhausted."
Lucas grinned. O'Neill didn't have to look to know. "Yeah, well, playing Frisbee with you is like playing ball with a Border Collie."
O' Neill lifted his hat and stared at the teenager. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."
The remark itself was amusing coming from O' Neill, but the expression on his face made Lucas laugh. He turned his attention to the volleyball game in front of them. Miguel was playing with some of the other crew and some locals. Tim had played earlier after Piccolo had actually managed to get him to try surfing. (Tony wouldn't have left him alone until he agreed.) And although he would never admit it, Lucas knew Tim had enjoyed himself. (Watching him ride, Lucas wondered if Tony hadn't actually gotten him to try it earlier that week.) O' Neill also played three rounds of competitive Frisbee with him, Piccolo and a couple locals (he was pretty good too). No wonder he was stretched out in a beach chair.
"Come on, O' Neill!" Brody shouted. "We need another player!"
"Hey, Lucas," O' Neill said from underneath his hat, "they need another player."
Lucas looked up at him. "So."
O' Neill smiled. "Exactly."
"Yeah, stop being a beach bum, Tim!" Of course Miguel had to throw in his two cents.
The Comm. Tech simply replied with the "read between the lines" gesture.
The gesture sent Ortiz and Brody into a fit of laughter and made Lucas grin.
"Why don't you go and play, Kiddo?"
"Hey, Captain," Lucas said without looking up. "I just don't feel like playing right now."
"Now don't tell me you're too tired."
Lucas looked up at Bridger and pointed at him saying, "Hey! Playing Frisbee with O' Neill is like playing ball with a Border Collie."
"Don't I know it," Bridger replied with a light chuckle. Though he couldn't see it, Bridger knew his lieutenant had a huge grin plastered on his face. He bent over, resting his arm on the back of the chair. "I understand you had a very productive morning, Mr. O' Neill."
Tim shrugged.
"Planning on any more surfing lessons?" Bridger asked.
O' Neill lifted his hat. "Depends on how tonight goes."
Bridger patted him on the shoulder. "I figured as much."
Lucas furrowed his brow and stood up. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Captain?"
"Sure." To O' Neill, "See ya later, Tim."
O' Neill replied with something that sounded like "yep" but Lucas wasn't sure.
"What's on your mind, Kiddo?"
"You know where he's going tonight?"
"Yes, I do."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment. "Did you know that Ford asked me to tag along?"
"Yeah," Bridger replied with a grin in his voice. "I told him to ask you."
The teenager was a little confused by the notion but he let it go. "Okay."
"I'd go myself, but I have—"
"That's just wrong, Piccolo!" Bridger was cut off by a well-carried retort from Brody, apparently in reply to something Tony had said or possibly done.
"Yeah, Tony. You might wanna rephrase that," they heard Ortiz say as they headed back towards O' Neill.
"What did you say?" Lucas asked, looking at Piccolo, who was now seated on the leg rest of Tim's beach chair. And a little too close to the seat of the chair for the lieutenant's liking. "Or do…." Both, it looked like.
He looked over at a very perturbed Comm. Tech, who was now sitting straight up and straddling the chair.
"All I said was 'spread 'em' and then I sat down," Tony said innocently. "It ain't my fault those two are perverted."
Ortiz and Brody shrugged when Bridger and Lucas looked over at them. The teenager shook his head and turned back to the two beach bums in the beach chair. He was about to say something when Piccolo spoke.
"C' mon, O' Neill," he said, slapping the Comm. Tech on the knee. "Let's get another session in. It's only three."
"No," O' Neill said flatly, his glasses still sitting on top of his head.
Piccolo frowned. "Ah, c' mon, Tim. Ya ain't goin' out 'til seven."
O' Neill didn't budge.
Piccolo stared at him.
Lucas noted that everyone, himself included, was watching the two of them. This couldn't possibly be that entertaining. And yet, here they were. He tried to stifle a laugh when Tony started to bounce up and down on the chair.
"You're gonna break it, Piccolo," Brody said.
"Forget it, Tony," O' Neill said.
Piccolo glanced at Brody. "No, I'm not." Back to Tim, "C' moooon! You're still in your wetsuit."
Tim leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. "No." He could see the wheels turning in Piccolo's head as a smile crept over the seaman's face. But no matter what gill-boy said or did, O' Neill wasn't going to budge. At least, that was his mindset.
"Oh, you will go surfing with me," Piccolo said with an uncharacteristic deadpan expression.
O' Neill grimaced.
"He's not gonna budge, Tony," Lucas said.
"Oh, he will." Tony stood up. O' Neill put his legs back up.
"What are you gonna do, Piccolo?" Brody said. "Sit in his lap until he agrees?"
Tony smirked.
"Way to go, Brody," Miguel whispered in his ear. "You're a dead man now."
Tony turned his smirk towards O' Neill.
The lieutenant's eyes widened in horror. "Piccolo! Don't you—"
"Hey, Tim?"
Everyone burst into laughter at the sight. Piccolo was now seated in O' Neill's lap, his legs dangling over the side. He put his left arm around the Comm. Tech's neck and clasped his hands together. Then he grinned.
"Will you go surfing with me?"
O' Neill furrowed his brow and glared at Brody. Lucas swore he saw black smoke in the form of a skull and crossbones billowing out of O' Neill's head and swore just as much he heard a deep, raspy, creepy voice say, "You. Will. Die…." And he swore Brody heard it, too. Because he took a few steps back.
"Please, Tim," Piccolo said sweetly. "Please? Tim? Please? …."
O' Neill tried desperately to hold his ground against Piccolo's barrage of please. His eye twitched.
"Okay!" O' Neill finally caved. "Just stop!"
Lucas patted Piccolo on the back. "Well done, Tony."
"Congratulations," O' Neill growled. "Now get off me before this thing bre—" There was a loud crack and the two came crashing to the ground; Piccolo remaining in O' Neill's lap. "Breaks."
The group around them stood silent.
"Told you, you were gonna break it," Brody said, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, whatever," Tony replied, waving Brody off. He jumped up, pulling Tim with him. "C' mon, Timmy. We're losin' daylight."
As they passed Brody, O' Neill glared at him. Lucas swore he saw that same black smoke billowing out of Tim' s head in the shape of the skull and crossbones. He also swore he heard that same deep, raspy, creepy voice saying, "You. Will. Die…." And he swore that Brody saw and heard it, too. Because he backed away from Tim.
Lucas looked at Brody, a huge grin on his face. "I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you."
Ortiz put his arm around Brody's shoulders. "Why don't ya join O' Neill and me tonight, Jim," he said, giving the lieutenant a morbid smile.
Brody scowled. "I hate you."
"Yeah, well, I'd get off the beach if I were you. Before O' Neill gets away from Piccolo." He turned to Lucas. "Seven o' clock, Wolenczak."
Brody gave Lucas a puzzled look. "Oh, uh, I'm going for observational purposes."
/MacLardy's – Friday, 22 April – 2300 hrs/
And so, here he was, sitting on a barstool, observing Miguel and Tim, grinning. Probably like an idiot, but he really didn't care. The four of them (Tim, Miguel, Lonnie and himself) arrived at MacLardy's at seven-ish, had dinner, played pool (He quickly realized that he needed more practice and next time Tim was his partner. The man may not be great at cards, but when it came to pool…), and then the drinking began. Well, for Miguel and Tim, anyway. He was underage and Lonnie had no desire to drink; that and she was there to keep them out of trouble. He knew from the moment they partook of their first beer it was going to be interesting. Yes, he had been there when Tim had been out drinking with Brody and Piccolo, but they had never come close to drunk. Of course, those times they didn't have the luxury of extra days between bar-time and shipping-out time.
It had been almost four hours since they had arrived and the two of them had finally drunk themselves under the table. Literally. As a matter of fact, they had just finished-off their—whatever number of beer they were on (he had lost count) while sitting under the table. They had begun singing Johnny Cash songs a few beers ago (even in his inebriated state, Tim was still pretty good) and were now on the search for something.
"I think…I see 'im," Miguel slurred.
"Where? I don't see nothin'," Tim said as un-muddled as he could.
Miguel put his arm around Tim's shoulders and pointed towards the restrooms. "Over…." He paused, skewing his face. "No…no…. That's a woozel."
Tim squinted. "I didn't know woozels had mohawks."
His speech wasn't quite as slurred as Miguel's, Lucas noted; but then, Tim was the communications officer and….
"What are you looking for?"
Lonnie's question interrupted his thought process.
Ortiz popped his head out and…sort of…looked at her. "A blue" he took a deep breath and wagged his index finger at her "heffalump."
"Mm-hmm…" was her reply.
"Don't you mean pink elephants," Lucas said.
"Pffftt! Nooo…" came O' Neill's voice from beneath the table. His left hand shot out and up, searching for the table top. Upon finding it, he pulled himself up, smacking his head quite spectacularly on the way. Didn't faze him any, though. Propping his arm up on the table, he looked at Lucas; well, in the teenager's general direction, anyway. "First of all, Loo…kuhs," he said, eye twitching and showing the teen two fingers, "it's uh hefff…uhlumppp. And second," now one finger "it's a boy."
Miguel nodded fervently, almost in tandem with Tim's eye-twitch. "I don't think Brody would 'preshiate you callin' him a girl."
"You named him after, Jim?" Lonnie queried, grinning.
Tim, who was now leaning up against the table leg with his legs stretched out in front of him, looked up at her as Miguel crawled over his legs and sat down next to him, cross-legged, in front of the chair. O' Neill opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and furrowed his brow. He looked at Ortiz.
"No," he whispered to O' Neill.
Tim relayed the message to Lonnie. "No." He looked back at Ortiz.
"He told us that was his name," he whispered to his "best buddy ever in the whole world" (he had proclaimed this two beers ago) in a weird drawl/slur combination.
Tim relayed the message to Lonnie in the same drawl/slur combo as his "best buddy ever in the whole world". He had reciprocated Miguel's sentiment after the sensor chief had said it.
Lucas was rather amused with the whole scene. Halfway through that particular beer (they were seated under the table then) Miguel pointed at Tim and said, sincerely, "Timothy. You…are my best buddy ever in the whole world." Tim pointed back at him and said just as sincerely, "Miguel. You…are my best buddy ever in the whole world." They both sighed and took another swig of their beer.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Lonnie say, "Oh."
The two turned their inebriated attention to…well, something. Lucas had the urge to start singing What do you do with a drunken sailor? Unfortunately, there were no longboats on the seaQuest.
His musings were interrupted once again when O' Neill blurted out, "There he is!" and pointed to the spot underneath Lucas' stool.
Miguel's eyes widened. "Do…not…move…Loo-kuhs."
"I promise I—" Lucas started to speak but was cut off by a shush from O' Neill.
"You'll scare him away," he slurred in a hushed voice.
The two besotted sailors stared at the spot on the floor beneath Lucas' stool. He looked up at Lonnie. She had turned her attention away from her fellow crewmen and was now enjoying some fruit. Lucas looked back down at O' Neill and Ortiz. They had stupid grins on their faces and were giggling. Okay, apparently this heffalump, this blue heffalump named Brody to be exact, was doing something humorous. They suddenly stopped and looks of awe bloomed on their faces. Now what?
Miguel answered his internal question. "I did not know heffalumps could do that."
Wow. That actually sounded pretty coherent.
Tim retorted with a p-shhh and said, "Of course, he can. It's Brody. He can do anything."
Miguel turned to him. "You…are right," he said with that same drawl/slur combo, wagging his finger.
They both fell silent and stayed that way for quite some time. Tim had closed his eyes and pulled his knees up, resting his right arm across them. Miguel, too, had his eyes closed. His arms were folded across his chest and his legs were stretched out before him. Both looked like they had fallen asleep.
"Are they asleep?" Lonnie said, looking down at them.
"That or they're dead," Lucas replied, spinning around on the barstool. He really liked these stools. "It's hard to tell."
Lonnie shook her head. "I'm going to the ladies' room. As soon as I'm back we're calling Jim so we can get these two out of here." She stopped by Lucas and said softly, "Before they get into trouble."
Lucas nodded in agreement, though he was a little curious as to exactly what kind of trouble those two could get into. As soon as Lonnie was gone, O' Neill's eyes popped open. Okay, they're alive.
"I'm thirsty," he said flatly.
Must've been waiting for Lonnie to step away, Lucas thought.
"So am I," Miguel said just as flatly.
He watched Miguel as the sensor chief stood up, incredibly with relative ease. Tim didn't have any trouble standing up, either. He even managed to avoid smacking his head on the table's underside. Both were steady on their feet and judging by the way they walked and the deadpan expressions on their faces, if you didn't know any better, you'd think they were sober. Or if not that, at least merely lit. It was weird.
Lucas had no idea how much either one of them had actually drank—or what form of alcohol other than beer they may have consumed. He had slipped away from them for an hour or so to play video games near the restaurant end of MacLardy's.
They were almost to the bar when Miguel tripped over himself and fell into his besotted-doppelganger.
"Learn how to walk," Tim said flatly, pushing Miguel down onto a barstool. He then sat down on the stool next to Ortiz.
Miguel mumbled something to him that Lucas didn't catch. He turned away from the two men, sighing. It was now after midnight and he was ready to go back to the hotel. He mulled over what Ford and Lonnie had said. Keep them out of trouble. Before they get into trouble. Though both of them had said such in a lighthearted way, it still made Lucas wonder. They had clearly passed the funny-drunk stage and just thinking about what they had said about Miguel and Tim put him on edge. Stop it, Wolenczak, Lucas chided himself. It's Tim and Miguel. If this had a chance of turning serious, there's no way Ford, let alone the captain, would've let any of them go, knowing full well—
A clanking sound pulled him from his thoughts. He looked down the bar at O' Neill and Ortiz. The bartender had set an empty glass in front of each of them. Apparently, they were going for more.
"You have got to be kidding," Lucas said under his breath.
As much as he wanted to voice his concern on another alcoholic beverage, he had to admit to himself that they at least were not getting violent. They both seemed fairly calm; even he was a little subdued. One thing he found quite intriguing about all of it was how that even though their speech had been slurred, it was not so much as to be unintelligible. As a matter of fact, he had been able to understand them perfectly throughout the whole episode. Neither one of them was wobbly on his feet. (Well, except for when Miguel tripped over himself, but he had no room to talk.) They were definitely no lightweights, that was for sure. And he was positive they had passed the heffalump and woozel stage. Both now had serious and sober expressions on their faces.
He watched the bartender pour a light-orange colored liquid into the glasses. "You can't seriously be giving them more. They're three sheets to the wind…. Actually, I'm pretty sure they're more than that."
"Don't worry, Lucas. I've had my fill. We both have," Tim said, closing his eyes tightly.
Lucas grimaced when he saw O' Neill grab his stomach with one hand and his head with the other. It was apparent he was going to have one serious hangover. The teen glanced at Miguel. Yep. So was he.
"Better drink that up before you lose it allover my bar," the bartender said.
O' Neill only responded by taking a drink.
"What is that stuff?" Lucas queried.
"It'll help settle their stomachs and their hangovers'll be a lot less intense," the bartender replied.
Lucas looked back at O' Neill and Ortiz. "Still seein' heffalumps and woozels?"
"Yep," Miguel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now they're dancing…everywhere."
"They're Riverdancing," Tim threw in. "On my head."
Lucas leaned into the bar. "There's a lesson to be learned here, isn't there?"
"Yes, Lucas, there is."
He turned around. "Oh, hey, Lonnie."
"Jim and Tony are on their way."
"Good. I'm ready to go."
He looked back at O' Neill and Ortiz. It was wrong, but Lucas had a morbid curiosity about the aftermath. It was another ten minutes before Brody and Piccolo got there. By then, the two drunken sailors had finished their orange-colored drinks, whatever that stuff was; and though they looked no-worse-for-wear, Lucas knew they felt like…well, he could think of a lot of words to put there.
"So Luke, what'd I miss?" He heard the jovial voice that belonged to his bunkmate.
"Heffalumps and woozels," Lucas replied, walking past him.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
"Get O'Neill, Piccolo," Brody said he helped Ortiz to his feet.
Lucas realized that both O' Neill and Ortiz were beginning to feel the affects of their adventure in Alcohol City. That orange-colored stuff must've done the trick, he thought. If that was the trick it was supposed to do.
"Where'd you park?" Lonnie asked as the group rounded the corner of the building.
"Around back," Brody answered. "Just in case either one of them needed to—"
That oh-so melodious sound of retching echoed in Lucas' ears. O' Neill and Ortiz had left their human crutches in favor of a wall. Both of them were hunched over the bushes with their hands and heads pressed against the wall of the pub, heaving.
"—throw-up," Brody finished.
Done ridding himself of the contents of his stomach, O' Neill dropped his hands from the wall, allowing them to hang loosely while keeping his head pressed firmly against the wall. Ortiz kept both his head and hands pressed against the wall even after he finished his heaving session.
"Hey, Tim?" Lucas heard Miguel say.
"Yeah?"
"Didn't we promise each other we were not going to this again?"
Lucas furrowed his brow. Again? He noticed Tony had the same look on his face.
"I think it was more of a suggestion," Tim replied just before taking another trip to Vomitville.
"Oh, right. I remember now." Miguel quickly joined his buddy.
"Welcome to Barfberg," Lucas said with a grin.
"Nah," Brody said. "More like Grand Hurl Station."
Lonnie groaned. "You guys…."
Piccolo looked at O' Neill and leaned in slightly. "Ya done yet?" he asked the nauseous submariner. O' Neill turned his head to face the seaman. "Ya look like your ready to pass out, Tim."
"I should be so lucky," the lieutenant replied flatly.
"Come on, guys. Let's go," Brody said, patting Ortiz on the shoulder.
Lucas smirked to himself as he followed the others to the back parking lot. He could use this as blackmail if he ever needed to.
"Lucas, you are not going to use this against them," Lonnie said.
The teenager grimaced. Man…. Does she read minds too?
/Lee Motors Inn – Saturday, 23 April – 1100 hrs/
It was a good thing they still had two days of shore leave left. It was also a good thing that they hadn't suddenly been recalled to duty. Although, if that were to happen, Lucas Wolenczak would be highly entertained. Neither O' Neill nor Ortiz was functioning at the moment. He had tried to wake them but quickly learned that that was a very bad idea. Ortiz had threatened his person and O' Neill decided to greet him with a punch in the head for intruding in his bubble. Fortunately, O' Neill only grazed the side of his face; but then it was likely the lieutenant was only trying to get the teen away from him, not actually hit him. Lucas hoped, anyway.
He sat on the couch at the opposite end of the room alongside Piccolo, staring at the occasionally twitching life forms sprawled out on the beds. Dr. Smith had come by two hours ago to check on the two recovering tipplers and give them shots of some kind. Lucas wasn't exactly sure how that was helpful, but it was amusing to watch. They were both fairly springy—or possibly spring-loaded—for having hangovers. The very mention of "shot" sent Ortiz and O' Neill flying into the bathroom. Unfortunately for the two sailors, and fortunately for the doctor, neither had had the presence of mind to lock the bathroom door. So it was mere moments before they were cowering before her. At least, that's what was running through Lucas' mind until he heard O' Neill refer to her as a "Napoleonic power monger" and saw the two come traipsing out with Dr. Smith following. The two males collapsed on their respective beds and were soon asleep. Dr. Smith then left telling him and Tony to "keep an eye on them".
Lucas thought about doing something to them, like drawing on their faces or something; but when he thought about all the things Ortiz could do to him when he sobered-up and then thinking about how he had no idea what O' Neill could do to him when he sobered-up, the teenager decided to leave them alone.
"So…what'd I miss?" Piccolo asked.
"Heffalumps and woozels."
"Yeah, ya said that last night." Piccolo looked at him. "What the heck are those?"
"I don't know," Lucas replied. "But the heffalump told them his name was Brody."
Piccolo burst into laughter.
"I wouldn't laugh, Piccolo," came the muffled voice of O' Neill. "The woozel told us his name was Tony."
"And he had a mohawk," Ortiz added.
It was now Lucas' turn to burst into laughter.
Undeterred by the remark Piccolo quipped, "Ya think I'd look good with a mohawk?"
"What about Brody?" Ortiz said. "You think he could pull-off a mohawk?"
The room fell silent. After a few moments the silence was bombarded with a plethora of "no ways" and "not a chances."
"What else did I miss?" Tony asked.
"O' Neill has issues counting when he's drunk," Lucas answered.
"O' Neill has issues counting when he's sober," Miguel quipped.
"Shut up, Miguel," O' Neill said flatly.
Lucas relayed the moment to Piccolo while the two on the beds continued their banter. "…so when he says first of all, he holds up two fingers and when he says second of all, he holds up one finger," Lucas explained, then preceded to reenact the moment.
"Hey," Miguel said, interrupting their snickering. "At least it wasn't his middle finger."
"Why?" Piccolo's curiosity was piqued. "Has he done that before?"
O' Neill and Ortiz looked and each other, grinning. Both turned around on their respective beds, albeit slowly and what appeared to be a little painfully. Now with their heads at the foot of the bed and feet and the head of the bed, they looked up, as best they could, at Lucas and Tony.
"It's not like I meant to do it," O' Neill said halfheartedly.
Ortiz scoffed. "Yeah, right."
A very lost Lucas queried, "What are you talking about?"
"He flipped off Stark," Miguel said.
The two on the couch stared at O' Neill in shock.
"What?" The lieutenant grinned at them.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "You flipped your commanding officer the bird," he said, looking impressed.
"Hey, I was drunk," O' Neill said as if that were an acceptable excuse.
"Tim," Miguel said, looking over at him, "you knew exactly what you were doing."
"And I still got away with it. Best birthday present ever."
Lucas shook his head. "I cannot believe you would do something like that, Lieutenant."
"Didn't know ya had it in ya, Timmy," Piccolo said with a huge grin.
Ortiz looked back at Lucas. "I gotta tell ya some of the stories about Tim."
"Shut up, Miguel."
Lucas turned to Piccolo. "Oh, yeah, When they were sitting at the bar, right before they drank that orange goo, O' Neill looked at me with this really creepy look in his eyes."
"O' Neill's really good at being creepy," Miguel quipped.
"Ya know," Tim said, "eventually I'm going to be fully mobile and then I'm going to kick your—"
A loud knock at the door cut-off Tim's remark.
"Hey, Lucas," Miguel said. "Make yourself useful and answer the door."
The teenager groaned and slid off the couch. "You're only making me do this because I'm the youngest," he grumbled under his breath.
Of course, it was heard. O' Neill and Ortiz followed his grumblings with their simultaneous comment of "He really is a genius." He shook his head and opened the door.
"Hey, Captain. Come on in."
"Afternoon, Lucas," Bridger said, stepping into the room. He looked over at Tony who was now stretched out on the couch. "Piccolo."
"Hey, Cap."
Bridger settled his gaze on his lieutenant and sensor chief. "So, how are you two feeling?"
Miguel answered with a "super" and Tim with a "never better." Both gave him a thumbs-up.
"Good. I'm going to assume that whatever Dr. Smith gave you is working."
"Yeah, that," Tim began, sitting up, "and that stuff Mike gave us last night."
Bridger raised an eyebrow. "Stuff?"
"It was some kind of weird, orange-colored liquid," Lucas said.
"Yeah, Mike calls it Cherokee Purge," Miguel added, sitting up himself.
"What's in it?" Piccolo asked, jumping off the couch. "I took one whiff of that stuff and I was ready to puke."
"Why'd you sniff it?" Lucas asked warily.
"I have a natural curiosity." He looked at O' Neill. "So what's in it?"
"Don't know," the lieutenant responded.
Lucas grimaced. "And you drank it anyway."
O' Neill looked up at him with a cock-eyed grin. "I have a natural curiosity."
Lucas groaned and looked over at Bridger. "I hope he's back to normal soon."
"Not gonna happen," Ortiz said, smirking. "Tim's never been normal."
O' Neill reached out for his partner-in-crime and smacked him on the back of the head.
Lucas and Tony snickered.
"All right, you clowns," Bridger said with a light chuckle. "It's time to check-out of the hotel and check-in to the seaQuest. "
"I thought we weren't shipping out 'til Monday," Ortiz said.
"We're not," Bridger replied. "But Dr. Smith wants you two back on board so she can keep a better eye on you."
We're fine," O' Neill said, standing up. And then promptly falling back down onto the bed, clutching his aching head. "Okay…stood up too fast."
Bridger shook his head. "Come on. Let's go."
Ortiz and O' Neill looked at each other and smirked. "Yes, Dad."
/seaQuest – Saturday, 23 April – 1430 hrs/
Though he didn't have to return until tomorrow, Lucas, along with Piccolo, opted to head back to the seaQuest. With O' Neill and Ortiz now confined to Medbay (possibly Dr. Smith's way of teaching them a lesson) and most everyone else, save a few crewmen, already back, there was little point in hanging back another day.
He had stopped by Medbay on his way to the Bridge to check on Tim and Miguel, but the two of them were sound asleep.
"Lucas," Ford called to him as he stepped onto the Bridge.
"Hey, Commander."
"So…make any good observations last night?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir, I did."
"Good." He flashed Lucas one of his rare smiles. "Carry on."
Noticing Brody was seated at his station, Lucas walked over to him. "Hey, Jim?"
Brody looked up. "Yeah?"
"I wouldn't worry about O' Neill getting back at you."
The lieutenant hadn't given much thought on it since last night, but he was still curious. "And why's that?"
Lucas flashed a grin. "Because I think he already has."
"Huh?" Brody furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"
Lucas turned and started to walk away. "Heffalumps and woozels, Lieutenant," he called out.
Brody looked up at Ford with a quizzical expression.
"Observational purposes, Mr. Brody."
The lieutenant turned back to his station, shaking his head. "Right."
fin
I've been in the "observational purposes" arena and it's quite fun. Definitely , I've never been drunk myself, nor do I ever plan to be. I'll sit back and watch.
The "Cherokee Purge" is a reference to an episode of "Walker, Texas Ranger." Though it's not quite the same stuff. It's an obscure reference for myself.
I hope it was enjoyable. And please review. I really like to know what people think. As long as it's constructive, of course.