Author's notes: This story takes place as if the events in In the Father's Footsteps never happened. If you're not familiar with the un-filmed script, I suggest reading it-- it's good, but do it after you read this. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: seaQuest and all related characters are property of Amblin Entertainment and the Sci Fi Channell. I am making no money from this.
Lucas stared out the window and into the pouring rain. The early-evening shower fell strait down from the gray clouds to the dirty streets below. His unsteady breaths left their opaque footprints on the glass, then evaporated into the air only for the cycle to begin again with his next intake of oxygen. He shivered despite the heat of the small apartment he shared with his new wife, Chloe, and wrapped his arms more tightly around his slim frame as he sat on the window seat.
"Lucas? Sweetheart? It's time." The gentle voice from the doorway broke into his thoughts and reminded him of the giant task that lay before him. He looked up at her tall body and smiled at the roundness of her stomach. His sad smile grew as his eyes moved to her face. She was so beautiful, he thought, her short red hair framing her face perfectly even now, after four months of pregnancy. She was going to make a wonderful mother for his son.
His son. It was hard to think of himself as a father. He was barely thirty years old and had been married only two years, but in five months he would be responsible for a life. Life that he created. Well, with a little help from his wife, he thought as she bent down to meet his lips.
He gazed into her face as they parted, and for a moment she saw the pain and fear of a childhood of neglect shining openly in his eyes. Then in the next instant, before she had barely even registered the emotion, he pulled back and she could feel his walls come up.
Lucas pulled her into his lap and hugged her tightly. "I have to do this, don't I."
She smiled and fell easily into the all too familiar conversation. "Yes; our son deserves to have a grandfather."
"Even if that requires my father?" She turned to look in his eyes and took his face in her hands.
"Yes. You can do this, Lucas. You need to do this; for yourself as well as for our baby."
He kissed her hands and she turned back around, relaxing into his embrace. "I know." He rested his chin on her shoulder as she moved his hands to her swollen belly.
"You can do this." He sighed and nodded his head, but made no effort to move. "You're going to be a great father, sweetheart. You may not have had a great role model, but you are the sweetest and kindest man I know. And hey, you married me, so we know you have good taste." He smiled and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. Again she turned and looked into his baby blue eyes that were starting to fill with tears. "You're smart, handsome, caring... Trust me, with your genes there's no way that this kid is going to be anything but perfect. I know that you don't want to make the same mistakes that your father did, but you've got to realize that is the reason why you won't." She wiped the tears that were now flowing and gently kissed his forehead.
"Aren't I supposed to be the genius around here?" He sighed as they gazed into each other's faces. "I love you so much. How did I get so lucky?"
"Come on. The taxi is waiting outside."
The nursing home was filthy. The front lawn was past badly needing to be mowed and watered, it's brown color and trash-filled appearance giving testimony to the owner's negligence. Lucas turned back around to the parked cab one more time and was encouraged on by Chloe's gentle smile and nod. He walked up the cracked sidewalk to the front door and, taking one last breath, he opened the door and stepped inside before he could stop himself.
The place looked even worse on the inside. The walls that had obviously been previously covered in wallpaper were now an aged brown, and from time to time the old print refused to be thrown away, and he could see spots of the old pattern. The linoleum floor resembled the unkempt lawn outside in that it badly needed cleaning; in fact, Lucas would've probably suggested that they just replace it. He walked up to the receptionist at the counter a few feet in front of him and waited for her to look up.
She didn't. By some practiced instinct, she immediately spoke. "Name of youth impaired visiting, please." Youth impaired? That was a new one. If this place was so interested in being politically correct, they might want to give some thought to it's cosmetics.
"Uh, Walenczak. Lawrence Walenczak." God, he could barely say his name. How was he supposed to carry on a conversation with him?
"Room 213. Sign in and make sure you sign out. Visiting hours are over at five, so you'd better make it quick."
Thanking her, he signed in and looked around at his options. He could go down the hallway to the left. It didn't look too bad, just a little dirty. At least the linoleum gave way to carpet halfway down, and he could see an elderly man trying vainly to walk down the hallway with a cane. Or, he could go down the hallway to the right. The linoleum stretched as far as the eye could see down this side, but his sight was limited as the potential path took a steep turn to the right a few feet down. His last possibility was to just head out the front door, the way he had come. It seemed a viable option until the oh-so-kind receptionist pointed to the right. Oh well, you're supposed to take the road less traveled, right? And this was definitely going to make all the difference...
As he rounded the corner, he was greeted by a flight of stairs. That would explain the 2 part of 213... The stairs seemed to go on forever, and with each step he was painfully aware that he was getting closer and closer to coming in contact with the man he had tried so hard to forget about these last few years. His father. Would he want to see him? One would think that any father living in a shit-hole nursing home like this would welcome a visit by his son, but with Lawrence one could never quite be sure. Briefly he wondered why his father was in the nursing home to begin with. He had heard that the great Lawrence Walenczak was finally dying, but none of the gossips could find out from what. If he had Alzheimer's, he might not remember Lucas; if he had Parkinson's, he wouldn't be able to even talk to him.
Before he knew it, Lucas was standing in front of a door. The rusty brass 2 in the 213 screwed on the front of the door was missing, but the faded outline of the number was still visible. He held up a balled hand with the intention of knocking, but the energy and resolve required to complete the task seemed lacking. He tried again, and this time he was greeted by a timid three knocks so soft and wimpy that they were more like taps. Little munchkin boy taps; papa smurf taps. Immediately he responded with a heartier rap, wanting for all the word his father not to think of him as any longer a child.
Time passed, and then more time passed, and Lucas' face fell as he turned to leave. As much as he had protested and agonized over doing this, he knew in his heart that he needed to do it. And now that he was here, faced with the reality of his father's situation, he actually wanted to see him, to show his always critical father the man he had become, and let him know of the family he was about to create. Then the door opened, and Lucas came face to face with an elderly gentleman who, if he looked close enough, held the shadow of the strong Lawrence Walenczak he had once been.
The man narrowed his eyes and looked Lucas up and down, realization dawning in his eyes. "L-Lucas? It that you?" He pulled Lucas into a giant bear hug, the kind that he had so longed for in his youth and never enjoyed before this moment. "My boy; my son. It's really you. I can't believe this!" They parted after a long moment, and Lawrence held him at arm's length, as if he was afraid that if he let go, Lucas might disappear into thin air like a figment of his imagination. He stood there for a while just looking, making no move to let Lucas in the room.
"Uh, dad, may I?" He gestured to the room, and Lawrence seemed to snap out of the reflective trance he had put himself in.
"Oh, of course, of course." He moved aside to let Lucas enter, then shut the door behind them.
He tried not to show it, but Lucas was floored at the state of the room. The size of a small dorm room, the majority of the space was taken up by a massive medical bed covered in hospital regulation white sheets. What was left of the room was nothing special; there was some trash on the floor, a small bedside table which held the remnants of what possibly could have been lunch, two bare windows on the far wall, and a small bureau with a mirror hanging on the wall beside it. Part of Lucas wanted to demand that his father deserved this, that the pain he had inflicted on him shouldn't go unpunished. Yet the rest of him refused to believe that his father, the man who never seemed to think that Lucas' room was clean enough or his clothes pressed enough was living in this dump.
"I know it's not exactly our home in Cape Quest, but it's enough for an old man dying of cancer." So it was true; he was dying. Lucas turned to look at him, the shock easily readable on his face. "Yes, it's true. There's nothing they can do," he said, predicting Lucas' next question. "They say that I have at the most six months left to live." He paused, letting the news sink in before he went on. "Lucas, knowing that you are going to die changes you somewhat, and lately I have been thinking about... everything." Ashamed, Lawrence went over to his bed and sat down. "Lucas, when I look back at my life, there isn't much that I'm proud of. My World Power Project was a miserable failure, and so was my marriage. What I've come up with was that the only good thing I have ever done was you." Tears filled Lucas' eyes as he followed his father to the bed and sat down next to him. "I don't know what I did to deserve a son like you, Lucas. I was a horrible father. I know that I was never there for you, but I want you to know that I have always been proud of you." The tears were now freely falling down his cheeks, but he was in too much of a shock to notice. "I didn't think that I was going to get to say this to you. Thank you for giving me the chance. Now that I have, what are you doing here?"
Lucas laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I... I wanted to tell you that I... I..."What? I need resolution? I need answers? I want to know why you made me constantly feel like a failure? A disappointment? "I forgive you."
And that was that. Before he had even realized that the words were forming in his brain and traveling to his toung, they had been said. Lawrence looked at him for a few seconds, disbelief etched across his face. Then he enveloped him in another huge hug, and by the time they parted both men were wiping tears from their face.
"Come home with me."
"What?"
"This place is a dump, Dad. I can't let you stay here. My wife is four months pregnant, and I want you to be able to see the baby before... I mean..."
"You're married?"
Lucas laughed. "Yes. Her name is Chloe."
"And she's... she's..."
"Pregnant. Yes, four months."
"My son is going to be a father?"
"Yes, dad. And I want-- I need you to be there."
Their eyes met, and Lawrence smiled and he pulled out a suitcase from underneath the bed. "Tell me how you two met."
"Well, there was this conference..."