Disclaimer: These characters are NOT mine.
Please review; this is my first fanfic ever!
Lucas stared dully at the ceiling and tried to ignore Tony's heavy snoring. He turned over, and over again, and finally settled on his right side, staring out at the cluttered room by the dim light of the aquatube. He was restless. He wanted to go for a run, to pound out of his body this anxious energy that made him queasy. Beneath him, Tony groaned and shifted in his bed. Lucas sighed, pulled his arms up under his head, and prepared to sit through another long night.
He finally fell asleep about an hour before his alarm would go off, and Tony, well rested, started making noise long before the wake-up call.
"Hey, kid, wake up, you can't sleep your life away. Wake up, Lucas! C'mon, we're on in an hour."
"I know, Tony, I know, so let me sleep until I have to get up, all right?" seethed Lucas, furious with the knowledge that he would not be able to get back to sleep now that he had been awakened.
"Man, relax, would you? You're too high strung, kid." Lucas growled and pulled his pillow over his face, not sure if he should suffocate himself or Tony. He settled for throwing the pillow, hard, at Tony's head. His friend took the message, glaring at him as he fastened his belt and stormed out of the room.
Alone. At last. It seemed as though privacy was impossible to achieve on the SeaQuest of late. Everywhere he turned, somebody needed him to do something, or to 'run something by' him, or just wanted to suck him dry by chatting. He didn't have the energy to chat anymore. He barely had the energy to keep on top of the work that was required of him. He couldn't sleep, but that's all he wanted to do. So he yearned for these moments alone, in silence, when he could stare at the walls and imagine himself into disappearing.
When his alarm buzzed, he sluggishly got himself presentable enough for public viewing and dragged himself to the lab, where he was finishing up several experiments on environmental safety for an oil drilling company eager to do more deep-sea work. If the UEO was going to allow them to exploit the environment, at least Lucas felt better about helping them to do so in the least invasive and harmful manner possible. The lab was mostly empty; science research had been generally postponed due to a series of military responses the SeaQuest had been involved in the last few weeks. The science crew was slotted to do several on-site projects, but they were impossible to conduct until they had settled in one environment for more than a few hours. Crew members drifted in and out, occasionally asking technical questions of Lucas. It seemed to him that they were asking an encyclopedia for information, not a fellow crew member. He longed for the friendly, companionable company of Dr. Westphalen, who had always seemed like the only person aside from Captain Bridger capable of treating him like an equal—like an intelligent, feeling being. When she left the SeaQuest, Westphalen had promised to stay in close contact. The e-mails and vid messages were originally numerous, but their frequency had dropped off in recent weeks. While he intellectually understood Westphalen's busy life and his changed place in it, the emotional sting remained sharp and bitter. The Captain, to his credit, had try to arrange 'quality time' with Lucas, getting together to work on the vocoder with Darwin, or playing chess, but these engagements felt like pity dates to Lucas. Another item on somebody's to-do list.
He was perpetuating his own depression, and he knew it, and it didn't particularly bother him. He was tired of feeling left out and tired of feeling like an outcast. He was just generally tired. And it was making him hostile. Lucas groaned and put his head down on his lab bench loudly.
"Hey, Lucas, how's the oil-friendly research going?" Tim O'Neil strolled into the lab. "It can't be that bad, can it?"
"Oh, believe me, Tim, it can."
"Listen, the Captain just told us we're docking for a day and a half. You want to go have some fun with me and Tony?" Tim tried to wiggle his eyebrows lewdly, but he just looked silly. In spite of himself, Lucas grinned. "I don't think so, Tim. I want to finish up this work. My results are expected soon, and I need to start the write-up."
"Oh, come on, Lucas, you're just making excuses! You've got to let loose every now and then, and we hardly ever get unscheduled leave." Tim paused. "I can't believe I'm trying to convince you to take a break and relax!"
Lucas thought about the easiest way to end the conversation, and quickly shook his head. "All, right, you convinced me. I'll make arrangements with Tony to meet you guys for a night out, okay?"
Tim smiled. "That's better. Hurry up and finish!" He waved to several of the other science officers as he left the lab.
Lucas clenched his teeth. Now he had to avoid his room so he wouldn't run into Tony and actually have to go out. The idea of putting on a smile and pretending to be happy with life was unbearable. He wanted only to sit in a dark room for a very, very long time. He wondered whether the Captain would be looking for him too, trying to find arrangements for the SeaQuest's resident orphan boy. Deciding not to chance any such meetings, Lucas abandoned his workbench and fled the lab.
He swept through several decks, unable to decide on a location private enough to hide in. He couldn't decide on anything anymore. Decisions—when to wake up in the morning, which breakfast to choose, which shirt to wear—seemed both too important and overwhelming to tackle and at the same time too impossibly trivial to bother with. He finally ended up down the hall from the greenhouse and figured it was as good a pace as any other to go. He wanted to be unfindable, even to himself.
Lucas walked to the back of the main room, curling up on the floor with his knees under his jaw, between a weeping cherry tree and a towering jade plant. What was wrong with him? He had turned into a whiny, grumpy brat. He was non-communicative and isolated. He was mad that nobody spent time with him, but irritated and disbelieving if they did. He'd taken enough psych classes as an undergrad to know that he was depressed. That didn't make it any easier to experience, or to understand. And it certainly wasn't any easier to deal with given the fact that he seemed to be very, very alone.
Captain Bridger knocked sharply on the door again, and then stuck his head into the room. "Hey, Lucas, why don't you—" he stopped abruptly when he realized the room was empty. Lucas wasn't in the lab, he wasn't in the moon pool, and he wasn't in his room. Bridger was stumped, and a little annoyed, and more than a little worried. He didn't quite know how to help Lucas, and as he watched him drift away he felt lost. He saw Lucas, naturally, as a son figure. He wanted to do right by him in the ways he hadn't been able to with Robert. He had a second chance and he wanted to fix things this time 'round. He knew that was an unfair way to approach the situation; it put too much responsibility on both him and Lucas to perform in this father-son model. But he also wanted to be a second chance for Lucas, to live up to the parental ideal that Lucas had a right to expect out of someone. His parents had failed him, and Nathan wanted to be able to be their second chance, before they realized what they'd lost in damaging their son. He hoped, deep within, that if he helped to heal Lucas, he could heal his relationship with his parents eventually. Right a million wrongs with this one relationship. It was a lot to expect. No surprise, then, that things weren't working out as he had hoped. Nathan felt old. Too old for a second fatherhood of a troubled teen. He sighed, scanning the room for any signs of Lucas's location, and set out on a search for Tim or Tony. They were the most likely to know his whereabouts.
Tony and Tim were M.I.A., along with more than half of the other members of the crew who were not scheduled to be on leave yet. Nathan was irritated, but he had to admit that if he were a typical crew member, he would have left the ship several hours early, too. It didn't make finding Lucas any easier, however, and he had a briefing to give to UEO officials about their most recent mission, along with several repairs to oversee. Lucas would have to wait, and Nathan would have to hope he was okay, wherever he was.
Ten hours later, the briefings were given and the repairs were well underway. Nathan wanted nothing more than to drop onto his comfortable bed and sleep until it was time for SeaQuest to prepare for departure, but he still had no idea of Lucas' location. Repeated attempts to contact him on his link had failed, and Tim, Tony, Ortiz, and several others had 'forgotten' theirs in their quarters. Nathan was beginning to wonder about Tony's influence on the crew, if he was spurring even his most conscientious officers into flouting procedure. Nathan retraced his steps from that morning, checking the lab, the moon pool, even med bay, for any trace of Lucas. The boy was nowhere. His eyes growing heavy, Nathan swung by Lucas' quarters to leave a note. At least he'd know he was missed.
Lucas was sitting on his bed, his back to the door, facing the wall. He was motionless.
"Lucas?" Nathan sounded tentative, and forced a more jocular tone into his voice. "Lucas, I've been looking everywhere for you! Where've you been all day?"
Lucas paused, as if considering whether to reveal the information. "Around."
"I thought you might have gone ashore with Tony and the rest of the crew."
"Yeah, well, I was going to, but…. I got caught up in some stuff on board."
Nathan figured this was a lie. Lucas' voice was too haltingly, too hesitating with revealing the information for it to be true. "Oh, yeah? What have you been working on? The oil research looks like it's really coming around. If you can synthesize that resistant compound, you may have found a groundbreaking response to leaks and spills."
"The compound? Yeah, it's coming, I guess. I told UEO I'd have it done by the end of the month. I need to finish one last test run of the synthesis before I write up my results. I think my findings will be very useful." The response seemed canned, rehearsed. Nathan knew he'd given that speech before. He didn't even seem to think about his words; he stared at the wall above Bridger's head as he pronounced the words.
"Lucas, I checked the labs. Several times. You weren't there."
Lucas was quiet, and then he seemed to realize the implications of the Captain's comments. "Oh, I was doing calculations and stuff. And the lab just wasn't a good atmosphere. I went somewhere quieter."
"Lucas, there's no one in the labs. Everyone's on leave. The labs are quiet."
Lucas grew visibly agitated and his eyes swerved from the wall to bridger's face for the first time since he'd entered the room. "Look, just drop it, okay?" he snarled. "I was busy with work. Don't you have somewhere to be, something to do?" His tone was venomous and Nathan had to work hard to let himself feel the sting personally.
"Lucas, listen, I think you need a break. You've seemed really tense; you need a chance to relax. Go on, take advantage of this leave! Get off the boat for the first time in months, enjoy yourself like any other teenager."
That clinched it. Lucas seethed. "I'm not any other teenager Captain, so I suggest you not treat me like one. I don't need to go party and I don't need to get off the boat right now. What I really need is for you and everyone else to leave me alone for the duration of this break so that I can have some privacy and peace." He threw himself back onto the bed, his right forearm covering his eyes and face. "I think you can find your way out," he said quietly.
Bridger paused, helpless. "Very well, Lucas. You know where to find me." He left the room, careful not to let the door make noise as he shut it on Lucas' silent form.
Lucas fought back tears after the Captain left his quarters. He was furious with himself. He felt more emotions warring inside himself than he could identify. The energy was unbearable; he bounced his legs anxiously. He needed a release valve for all these emotions. He was angry—at himself, at Bridger, at his parents, at the world in general. Everything felt messed up. Why did life have to be so hard? Lucas started crying as he felt the hurt and anger whirl up in his chest. Dammit! Dammit! Why was he letting it get to him? He struck out his arm in anger, making contact with the solid steel wall. The impact felt good, and he thrust his fist again and again into the metal until he was sore and a little bloody. The feelings tamped down into his stomach again, a dull ache. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes, cradling his arm against his body. Lucas fell into a restless sleep.
"I don't know, Kristin, this seems like more than teenage angst. He's doing a complete one-eighty—he's back to that pissant he was when he first came aboard."
"Oh, really? And do you feel threatened by that 'pissant'?" Kristin's accent emphasized the archness of her tone.
"No, in all seriousness, I don't. I feel worried by it. He's worse than the kid he was a year ago. I don't know what happened, but something seems to have made him very angry."
"With you?"
"Yes, with me! With me, with Tim, with everyone. He hates everyone."
"That sounds like a teenager to me, Nathan."
"It's also very clear that he hates himself."
Kristin was silent on this. She looked down, fidgeting with a pen on her desk. "Well, Nathan, what do you think should be done about this…ehm, situation?"
He laughed, half with amusement and half with frustration. "I was hoping you could help me out, there."
"Oh, Nathan …" She rubs a hand over her eyes, across her forehead. Nathan can now see that she is tired, overworked. Her new position is demanding, and here he is forcing more responsibility on her. He feels immediately ashamed, guilty. "Kristin—I'm sorry, I know you're swamped. I just want feedback; I want to be sure I'm doing right by Lucas. I don't want to add to his hurt accidentally. I don't want to make a mistake."
"Nathan, all parents make mistakes, even surrogate ones. You know that. As long as you have these good intentions, you'll do okay. There will be problems, of course. You just need to keep looking out for Lucas."
"That's easy to say, but when it comes to action—that's another story. He seems clearly upset, depressed. Do I refer him to help off the boat? Knowing that will likely return him to his parents and their neglect? Or do I keep him on the boat, unable to deal with his problems adequately and potentially add to his problems? I could make things much, much worse by keeping him here under the illusion that we can take care of him, Kristin."
"And you could make things equally worse by forcing him to leave. Nathan, you know from experience that every act in parenthood is a risk. You need to accept that, and take the risks to act as appropriately as you are able."
Bridger nodded. "I know. I just don't want to—"
"I know. Listen, why not ask Lucas? Ask him what he thinks would help him more."
I've tried talking to him and it does no good."
"Have you tried talking to him about this, specifically? Perhaps a direct approach is needed. Explain what you see, and the options that you have identified. He may know what he needs best of all, Nathan."
"Ah, you're right as always, my good doctor."
"Yes, well…Please get back to me about the situation's outcome. And tell Lucas that I miss him."
"Of course. Good to see you again, Kristin."
"Yes, you as well, Nathan. You look well. Out."
Bridger moved to his desk, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject with Lucas. There was none.
Lucas, meanwhile, was dreading the crew's return. After a night of slipping in and out of sleep, he knew that most people would be returning to the ship in a few hours, if they hadn't already. He hadn't felt like venturing out of his quarters since the Captain's visit. There was a decision to be made: to stay, or to go. Wasn't that an old song from the twentieth century? But there were shades to this decision. He could stay, and go. Lucas shook his head to get the idea out of his head. Hamlet he was not. "To be or not to be" was not a choice he could make. It was too pitiful, a kid genius killing himself on the UEO flagship. Everyone would shake their heads and say, "he just felt too different…" No, that was no choice he could make. So: stay or go? Stay and be lonelier than ever, or go and feel more hated than ever? He decided to let the situation decide for him, knowing that the answer would pop out of his mouth when he least expected it. He might be eating lunch with Tony and Ortiz and say, "I have to leave the SeaQuest." Or maybe it would be when he was talking to the Captain, just tell him that it was a decision that had been coming for a long time. If the words never popped out, then he must not want to leave. Lucas felt solid about this decision, and he brushed his hair off his forehead with his good hand. The other was scabbed and bruised now, and he knew he should go wrap it. The dressing would raise some questions, but not as many as the visible wounds.
The med bay was virtually deserted, with only one officer lounging lazily in a corner, tapping away on a computer. Lucas put on his best careless smile. "Hey, John, I just came in to get some ice for a bruised foot. I stubbed my toe!" Joe grinned, nodded, and returned his attention to the console. Lucas fake-limped to a countertop and reached quickly for ointment, wrapping, and ice, shoving the first two deep in his pockets. He held up the chemical ice packet in his good head. "Got it, thanks!" he called as he sped out of the room.
Back in his quarters, he slathered ointment on the jagged scrapes and cuts across his knuckles, scraping the dried blood away in an effort to cleanse the wounds. He wrapped his fist and lay the chem-ice pack across the top, wincing at the contact.
When Tony came into the room, all loud noises and raucous energy, Lucas pretended to be asleep. He was lying on his back, his eyes lightly shut, and he worked hard not to let his breathing change. Go away, leave me alone, let me be, he chanted to himself. No such luck.
"Yo, Luke! Hey kid, you missed all the fun! Where were you? We took Tim gambling, and MAN! You should see that guy get on a roll! I'm totally broke. Never bet against a guy as smart as that, eh?"
"Tony," groaned Lucas, flipping over but careful to keep his injured arm below his blanket, "can't you see that I'm trying to sleep here?" The whole encounter was making his stomach clench.
"Yeah, Lucas, I can see. Look, I'm going on shift soon, so I'll be outta your hair. Jeez, kid, I'm trying to be nice here." He threw down his duffel bag, grabbing a new shirt from beside his bed, and let the door slam shut loudly as he left the room.
Lucas frowned at the bile that rose up in his throat.
For what may be the first time, thought Nathan with amusement, he was really glad to see Tony walk onto the bridge. Tony was grinning ear-to-ear at Tim, already seated at his station, but he quickly smeared the smile off his face when he saw Bridger staring at him intently. "Morning, sir," he said with a neutral tone.
"Good leave, Piccolo?"
"Hell yeah! Ah, that is, yes, sir."
"Piccolo, have you been back at your quarters yet today?"
"Yessir, I just got back from there."
"Was Lucas there?" Bridger had moved much closer to Piccolo's station and tried to keep his voice low. Tony seemed to understand the need for discretion. "Sir, he's uh, not exactly himself. He was, y'know, real grumpy. More than usual."
Bridger nodded. "Yes, I know."
"He was supposed to come on leave with me and the other guys, but he just bailed out, y'know?" Bridger nodded again. "Thanks, Piccolo." He returned his attention to his work, trying not to let his worries about Lucas to overcome him.
Lucas hauled himself out of bed, dropping to the floor and grasping his arm. It hurt more now than it had when he was abusing it. He wasn't due for work for another five hours. He couldn't sleep, didn't want to play any computer games, was sick of the internex, and wasn't feeling nearly capable of handling any human contact—in the labs, in the cafeteria, in the moon pool. Looked like more room confinement. He settled into the chair at his desk, kicking several boxes aside. The room was getting entirely too cluttered with both him and Tony cramming all their stuff into it.
He wasn't really surprised when there was a knock at the door and Bridger calld out, "Lucas? Can I come in?"
"Yeah, why not," he called back. "You won't leave me alone until I do, that's for sure, he commented as the Captain stepped down the stair into his quarters. He immediately moved back to the bed, settling comfortably on Tony's bed as if it were a couch. The Captain stood before him for a moment, then paced up and down the room once, and finally settled on the chair in front of Lucas' computer. He turned it around to face Lucas, straddling it with his arms crossed across the top of its back. "So, kiddo," he began.
"So, Captain," Lucas retorted bitterly.
Bridger shifted in his seat. "Lucas, no matter how mean you are to me, I'm going to stay here and try to help you feel better."
A rock formed in Lucas' stomach. This was not what he wanted. Not at all. He wanted the Captain to get frustrated with him, to throw up his hands and yell and storm out. Lucas wanted to be hated. He wanted to shove the Captain and the rest of the world as far away from him as he felt from them. He also desperately wanted someone to care for him—not because it was their duty, or responsibility, but because they wanted to. He wanted a hug, a genuine hug, more than anything. Yet he also knew that one hug was nowhere near enough. He needed more hugs than there were in the world to give. He was beyond help. "Save it Captain, I feel fine. What's really bothering me is all this coddling you seem to think I need. I'm a grown man, a member of this crew, so why don't you just stay out of my life the way you stay out of everybody else's."
Nathan was thrown for a moment by the intensity of Lucas' hostility, but he didn't allow it to show in his voice. He said evenly, "Lucas, you're not a crew member aboard this boat, not yet; you're a research attachment. Neither are you a grown man yet. You're a growing young man, and that is a very different thing. And if any member of my crew were acting as you have been lately, you can be assured that I'd be intervening there, too."
"Attachment? Like people add enhancements to their computers? Thanks, Captain, I'm real pleased to hear about my value on board the SeaQuest." Nathan cursed himself. He knew better than to use words loosely around this perceptive kid.
"Lucas, that's the term we use, you know that. It merely differentiates your duties on board from those of a crew member. You know I care about you and what's happening with you, and you know that I care more than just as a Captain. You aren't just another crew member." It seemed very important to make Lucas realize that his involvement was entirely voluntary.
Lucas snorted. "And how much did my father have to pay you to get you to take care of me, sir?" His tone was bitter and hurt.
"Nothing Lucas, you know that. I care for you because I like you."
"And because my father helped finance this ship."
"Whether he did or not makes no difference to me. You don't see me taking in every other son of a wealthy financier, do you?"
"Maybe none of them hated their sons enough to send them here."
Nathan sighed. He couldn't fight cold facts. He put his head down on his knuckles for a moment, gathering his feelings and his thoughts together. "Lucas, I can't change your past. You know that. I can't make that part of your life better. I can't even change certain parts of your present. I can't make your parents better parents. I can't make them see what a wonderful kid you are and I can't make them show love for you if they don't know how. All I can do is be grateful that we ended up here together, and try to make your time here valuable to both of us."
Lucas clenched his teeth at the kindness. He didn't want to hear it. He couldn't believe it was true. He didn't want to believe it was true. Life was easier if he was awful and everyone hated him. The lines were clear then. He knew how to play that role. This one being offered him was completely uncharted territory. He didn't know how to function in a relationship based on caring. He lashed out where he knew it would hurt. "Oh, sure, you want this because it benefits you. You want a chance to fix things where you messed up with your son, Captain. You know, a shrink would really have a field day with this. Talk about replaying your traumas. No thanks, I don't need to be involved with—"
Bridger cut him off. "Dammit Lucas, that's a low blow and you know it!"
"Because it's true?"
"I don't know, maybe. Is that necessarily a wrong thing? To want to help somebody because you know you haven't always been there to help others? Now that you have a chance to have a caring relationship, don't you want to take advantage of it?" Nathan wish he could have bit back those last words. He didn't want to phrase their relationship in terms like that, to have Lucas think that he was trying to give him a second childhood, even though he was doing that, in a way.
"Yes! Yes, okay? I do want it."
Nathan was quiet for several moments, letting the confession sit starkly between them.
"Then why won't you take it? Why do you have to refuse everyone's help? Mine, Tony's, Tim's—"
"Because I'm not a pity case," he said stubbornly.
"God, Lucas, you need to get that out of your head. There are plenty of people to associate with on this boat. If your friends didn't want to spend time with you, they wouldn't. They wouldn't ask you to spend time with them or do things with them. Don't you see? No one has to do any of this. They want to, they care, simply because you are worth it to them. To us. To me."
Lucas turned to the wall, his shoulders shaking slightly. He coughed, trying to cover the tearful emotions. He reached his arm up to wipe his face and Bridger saw the gauze.
"What happened to your hand?"
Lucas sighed, tired of lies. "I hurt it. I hit it."
"With what, how?"
"Against the bulkhead, there." He pointed.
"Lucas…" his voice was tender. He sat beside the boy's curled form and took the hand in his, unwrapping the gauze and wincing when he saw the wounds. "Lucas, this is really red and swollen. It may be infected."
"It's probably from the impact." Bridger looked at him, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. "I hit it a bunch of times. But I put ointment on it."
"It should still be looked at." Nathan re-wrapped his hand carefully. "I'm sorry you felt so bad that you did this."
"Me too, to be honest." He flipped over to look up at the Captain. He felt very tired, and very young.
"Kiddo, I don't have any concrete solutions to how you're feeling. But if you let people help you, you probably won't feel so bad."
"Is it that easy?"
"Never. But isn't it a better idea than spending an entire leave holed up in your quarters and beating on the walls?"
Lucas gave a small, weary grin. "I guess. It's not that easy to just 'let people help you,' y'know."
"Believe me, Lucas, I know. But since I've had you, I've certainly felt better."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You know that, you just let yourself forget it, I think. You get lost up there." He pointed at Lucas' sweaty forehead. "Listen. You want to come swim with Darwin with me? I think he's missed you these last few weeks."
Lucas decided to be honest. "Right now, I can't, Captain. Maybe tomorrow?"
Bridger nodded. "Whenever it feels right, Lucas. Just don't get lost, okay? Remember where my door is." He gave Lucas a meaningful look before he left.
Lucas crawled back onto his bunk. He felt a small, tiny, smidgen bit better. There was still a dark cloud encasing every thought, but it felt as though there were a tiny clear spot in the back of his head that he could almost touch if he reached with all his might. And when he went on duty, he managed to smile when Tony said, "Hey, it walks! But does it talk?" as he boarded the bridge for his shift.