Rating: PG-13, probably
Disclaimer: I don't own seaQuest and am not making any profit from this.
Warning: This is set in the third season. Bad things happen in war, even to our characters. This probably counts as ELF-ish. That's all the warning you get. If you want happy, go elsewhere. Why is that the warning to all my fics?
Non-betaed, so all mistakes are acknowledged, and apologized for in advance.
Summary: Two years after beginning his search, Nathan Bridger finds his son. Clouds find his silver linings.
"Nervous, Sir?"
Nathan Bridger jumped a bit at the sound of another's voice. He had been mentally reviewing all the things he's waited so long to say to Robert-trying desperately to decide the right one. Giving a glance back to the well meaning, if interfering Ensign, he nodded shortly and replied, "You could say that."
He tried to convey through his voice that he was not interested in further conversation. Unfortunately, two years out of the Captain's chair had apparently diminished his capacity to be commanding. Or perhaps the Ensign was simply a little slow on the uptake. Either way, the other man ignored him and asked excitedly, "Must be an incredible week for you, Sir. Your son arriving back home today, and the UEO victories over Macronesia yesterday-"
"Which I'm sure I'll hear all about tonight on the news," Nathan cut in. It was easier to make his tone sharper this time. He had long grown tired of the Macronesian "Conflict," and while he welcomed any "crippling blows" that would help bring the Conflict to an end, that was the last thing on his mind today. Nathan's feelings came through loud and clear this time, and the Ensign slithered away meekly.
"Grandpa?" came Michael's six year old voice. "When's Dad going to get here?"
"Soon, Michael. You have to be patient," Nathan admonished. In truth, however, he definitely shared the little boy's excitement, as well as his anxiousness.
After all, today Nathan's son was coming home. Two years worth of searching had finally brought to fruition the family reunion Nathan had been waiting on for so long.
As the impatient six year old squirmed beside him, Nathan reflected on the fortuitous events which would bring them together. For the past six years, Robert Bridger had been serving in a classified position for the UEO. What exactly he had been doing before that, Nathan didn't know, but was certain he would find out.
"Grandpa?" came Michael's voice again. "Can I have some candy while I wait?"
Nathan chuckled. "Of course, Michael." He took the child by the hand and led him to the vending machine nearby that just happened to sell the candy Michael so craved. He watched as Michael's complete attention turned to the selection of his treat, and noted with a pain the fact that Michael knew so little about Robert. How could any child of mine abandon his son? Attempting to shake off the negative thought, Bridger reminded himself that he hadn't heard Robert's story. Whatever his reasoning, Nathan was sure it was a valid one.
"I hope you aren't spoiling his appetite." The minute Bridger heard the voice, his heart beat increased and his already sweaty palms grew even more so.
Turning around, Bridger saw the living personification of everything he'd spent the past two years searching for. "Robert."
"Hey, Dad." Such a casual greeting from the man that held the key to Nathan's soul nearly made the older Bridger cry on the spot. He settled for grabbing Robert in a tight hug.
When they pulled apart, Nathan had composed himself somewhat. Having abandoned his search for candy, Michael stood anxiously a step behind Nathan. Spying his son, Robert stepped in his direction, prompting the little boy to grab tightly onto Nathan's right leg with both hands.
Seeing the pained expression on Robert's face, Nathan hastily attempted to reassure them both. "He's been very anxious to see you, Bobby. He hasn't stopped talking about it since we received word three days ago. Michael, it's alright. It's your father."
Perhaps realizing the mistake of his haste, Robert Bridger took a step backwards and kneeled down so that he was at eye length with his son. "Hiya, kiddo. I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry for that. But doesn't your old man get a hug?"
Very slowly, Michael began to untangle himself from the protective shield of his grandfather's leg. To Robert's credit, he demonstrated an incredible amount of patience with Michael's snail pace. That patience was eventually rewarded when Michael came to wrap his arms around his father's neck. Swooping up his son, Michael stood and asked as casually as his shaking voice would allow, "So, I'm officially on extended leave. Where are we going to be spending it?"
"Oh, I think I know just the place."
"Really?"
"Yes. How's a little island your mother picked out sound?"
"It sounds perfect."
The conversation Nathan wanted to have had to wait. It waited throughout two servings of pan fried catfish, one serving of banana pudding, four sand castles, three rounds of catch, one prolonged bath, and two bedtime stories. By the time Michael was finally asleep, Nathan's age had made its presence known loud and clear. Though nothing sounded better to him than retiring for the evening, there were things he had to know first. First and foremost, he needed to know what had been so important that Robert would allow him and his mother to believe that their only child was dead.
Thus, Nathan sat and waited patiently for Robert to join him in the living room. When the younger Bridger sat down across from the former Captain, Nathan was rewarded with a smile identical to Carol's. As alternative waves of familiar pain and bittersweet joy fought for supremacy in Nathan's mind, he was reminded just how special the occasion was. He was also inconsolably disappointed that Carol couldn't be here to share it with him.
Robert's voice startled him out of his nostalgia. "I thought you'd be in bed by now."
"We have a lot to talk about."
"Yes we do. A lot of what you want to know, I can't tell you, because not even you have security clearance enough. And the parts I can tell you, you're not going to like a lot of."
Seeing the worried lines forming on his child's face, Bridger quickly summoned the first words he could think of to sooth Robert's worry and rid him of those lines. "Robert, you're my son, and I love you. Nothing you can say will change that."
The assurance did cause the worry lines to fade, somewhat, though Robert's posture still remained tense. "I suppose you'd like to know about why I disappeared in 2012?"
Nathan tried to keep his voice calm as he answered. "That would be a good place to start, along with why you allowed your mother and I to believe you were dead."
"In 2010 I was visited by then General Frank Thomas. Thomas had seen my file and was interested in recruiting me for Section Seven."
"Section Seven? You told them no, I would hope?"
Robert winced. "Dad. This is hard enough to do without your interruptions."
"I'm sorry. Go ahead."
"Of course I initially told Thomas there was no way in hell I was going to join Section Seven. I didn't know a lot about it, but the little I did know told me that it wasn't an organization I wanted any part of."
"I presume something made you change your mind?"
"Do you remember Ralph Kendall?"
"Of course. The two of you were friends since childhood and ended up going to the Academy together. As I recall, he was killed during a conflict in the Tonga Trench."
Robert's voice dripped with bitterness when he answered. "Yes, he was, along with ten other soldiers. They were attempting to gain some pivotal technology for the Navy and in the process, they were killed. The Navy didn't do a damned thing about it. They just let the killers go free."
"The killers sought asylum on some neutral colony, didn't they? The Navy didn't have any choice but to let them go free."
"So they said. Part of me understood that. Another part of me was furious that not only had their killers been allowed to go free, but their sacrifices had gone in vain. Two weeks after the event, Thomas contacted me again. Section Seven had done what the Navy failed to do. They'd gained the technology Ralphie had been after."
"And they'd made certain that the people responsible paid for it." It wasn't a question, because Nathan already knew the answer. Though he understood his child's reasoning, it didn't make it right. "I assume that's when you joined them?"
"Yes."
"But that was a full year and a half before-"
"When I first joined Section Seven, I joined them because I knew they got results. I didn't realize how they achieved those results."
Robert leaned back in his chair, shivering as he did so. When he closed his eyes, Nathan briefly contemplated telling him that the rest didn't matter. But he couldn't, because it did.
"They use torture, Dad. And they make no distinction between innocent and guilty. To Section Seven, there's only those that are helping them reach their goals, and those that aren't."
"Well, their mantra certainly didn't change when the UEO formed."
"From what I heard, no, it didn't. Anyway, I wanted out. But no one just walks away from Section Seven."
"You could've came to me and explained what was going on?"
A short, bitter laugh was the response. "Sure. I was supposed to come to you and explain that I'd been part of an organization you'd always despised? Even if I could have worked up the courage to do so, I wouldn't put you and Mom in that type of jeopardy. As it was, I had to figure out a way to leave Section Seven without letting them hurt you. Faking my death seemed to be the only viable alternative."
"You didn't think that would hurt us?"
Robert stood then, and began to pace. "Of course I knew it would hurt you. Especially Mom. . . but at least you'd be alive! Hell, even after the 'accident' occurred, Section Seven kept tabs on the two of you. That's why I couldn't come back out to find you or Mom to let you know what was going on."
Nathan let this digest for a moment before asking, "So what did you do for the years you spent pretending to be dead?"
Robert stopped pacing. He walked to the front window of the living room and stared out at the scenery in front of him, as though he hoped it would give him the answers Nathan sought. His arms sought solace from his waist as he wrapped them around him. Finding none there, Robert instead found support from the wall in front of him. "For eight years, I worked for Alexander Bourne."
Several emotions fought for dominance in Nathan with that admission. Disbelief triumphed. "President Bourne, of Macronesia?"
"Yes."
"Robert, what in God's name were you thinking?"
"What was I thinking? I was thinking that working for Bourne was good work that kept me fed, and kept my family safe. He didn't turn into a monster until after SeaQuestdisappeared. I found out that his tactics were even worse than Section Seven's."
"That's when you decided to start working for the UEO?"
"Yes. But Bourne was smarter than most give him credit for. He knew I was planning on leaving, somehow, and he sent his good friend Mason Freedman to make sure that didn't happen. . ."
A deep feeling of fear pierced Nathan's gut.
"Michael almost had an older brother. Almost."
The fear gave way to anger and a healthy dose of hatred for Alexander Bourne. Bourne who had taken away his son, and his ship, had also taken away his grandson.
"Marie. . .that was my wife. . . she never really recovered from the attack. It scared both of us enough that we stayed, at least until Michael was born. The moment we laid eyes on him we knew . . . we had to do whatever it took to get him away from Macronesia territory and Bourne. There was no way we could allow him to grow up and become part of Bourne's forces."
Nathan lowered his voice slightly. "Marie didn't make it?"
"She made it as far as the Embassy in Brussels, where she left Michael, but she was never able to join me. I love my son, Dad, and I always wanted to be with him. But I wanted him to be able to grow up in a world free from people like Bourne. To make that possible, I had to leave him. I always intended on coming back. . ."
"I can understand that." Was that ever an understatement, Nathan thought. Hadn't that been the reason he'd left his boat? Hadn't that been the reason he'd abandoned his crew that had veritably cried out for him to stay? To care for a grandson that he'd never known?
"I did a little jail time, a year in a UEO prison, for treason. But as the Conflict heated up, the UEO let me out on good behavior. Turns out all my time working for Bourne made me an invaluable asset."
"I bet it did. That's what you've been doing for six years?"
Robert turned back and returned to the sit across from Nathan. "Yes. With the help of some other significant Macronesian dissenters, the UEO's been able to gain access to key technologies to build weapons they weren't able to build during the years SeaQuestwas gone. I've been able to pinpoint strategic locations to plant the weapons."
For some strange reason, Nathan remembered the words of the anxious Ensign he had shooed away earlier in the day. Your son arriving back home today, and the UEO victories over Macronesia yesterday . "That's why you were able to come back today? Because all of your work paid off yesterday?"
"Yes. The UEO promised me that the minute the targets were in place, I could have leave to visit my son. Besides, to be perfectly blunt, the powers that be were getting a little annoyed at your questions."
"To hell with the powers that be," Nathan responded automatically.
"Absolutely. At least for another two months."
"This is a lot to digest, Robert. To be honest, you're right, there's a lot I'm not happy about. But none of that matters right now. All that matters is that you're home." Nathan stood, and his son followed suit. Father and son embraced one another in yet another hug, neither one pulling away for several minutes.
When the hug was broken, Robert smiled broadly at his father. "It's good to be home, Dad. But, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to hit the hay. That son of mine has worn me out."
"It's only going to get worse as he gets older, Bobby."
Robert nodded and turned towards the stairs. Something stopped him, and he turned back around to face Nathan. "I wanted to be here for the funeral, Dad." He didn't have to say whose funeral he meant in order for it to break Nathan's heart.
"Your mother would have understood." She probably wouldn't, but she would have understood the need for Nathan to use such a platitude to reassure their son, and to ease the guilt he'd carried for twenty-two years.
The line worked well enough, and Robert said a final goodnight before heading to bed.
Nathan was exhausted, and ready to go to bed himself. The alternative was staying awake, and reliving the conversation he'd just had with Robert. But frankly, Nathan was too tired to do either.
As he rose and headed for the stairs himself, his stride was interrupted by the sound of the Vid phone ringing. Nathan frowned as he glanced at the clock, wondering who would be calling at this time of night. He nearly ignored the call, thinking it might be one of the previously mentioned powers that be, but an unexplainable urge to answer the call overcame him and urged him towards the VID phone.
The minute Jonathan Ford's face flashed across his screen, Nathan knew something was wrong. Not just a little wrong, but horribly, utterly wrong. If the fact that his former XO was calling him at eleven thirty at night wasn't enough of a tip, the deep frown and crease between Ford's brows was. The man was steady as they came. If he was that distraught about something, Nathan knew it had to be bad.
"Jonathan, what's the matter?"
"Captain Bridger," he began stiffly, "I'm sorry to disturb you. . . but I thought you should know. . . It would normally be Hudson's duty, but since you aren't next of kin. . . "
The man was blubbering, Nathan realized. The day had come when typically stoic Jonathan Ford was rambling, though he normally reached the point immediately. The realization made the fear in the pit of Nathan's stomach grow even sharper. "Jonathan, what is it?" he snapped, a little more forcefully than he intended.
"It's Lucas, Captain."
No!
"He was injured yesterday in action –"
"Is he alright?" He has to be.
The frown on Ford's forehead increased. "No, Captain, he's not."
"How?" It was amazing how incredibly difficult a one word syllable could be to pronounce.
"The explosions yesterday caused sufficient damage to Macronesian territories. It also caused a lot of damage to innocent civilians. Lucas was assisting in rebuilding the communication infrastructure when the building he was working in collapsed. He hung on for a day, but in the end. . . he didn't make it, Captain."
Nathan managed to thank Ford, and turn off the Vid Phone before be became unable to move.
He didn't make it.
Lucas was gone. Robert was back. . . but Lucas was gone.
Nathan still couldn't move. A million images flashed through his memory, of times good and bad. Every angry mood swing was countered by a cocky grin.
"...You can imagine how important it is for me to have you here. And now I want you to know how important it is to me to be here for you."
Nathan had said that to Lucas at the end of the first tour, a time that seemed impossibly far away. Long before Hyperion, before the discovery of Michael, before they had grown apart.
"With all due respect, Sir, but you always taught me to think for myself. Which is exactly what I'm doing."
Their time apart hadn't just separated them, it had erected an impenetrable wall between them.
But Lucas had to know how much I cared for him. Surely he understood my reasoning? He couldn't have expected me to leave Michael –
"Captain. . "
Lucas' voice had been a plea. The sometimes cocky, always defensive teenager had pleaded with him one final time not to leave, and abandon him the way his father had.
And I didn't listen.
"Are you happy here, Lucas?"
Had he been happy on SeaQuest? It didn't take a genius of Lucas' level to figure out the reason Lucas had stayed after Nathan had left. Lucas was a scientist, after all, not a soldier. But he had stayed, because SeaQuestwas his home.
But was he happy?
Could he have been? Could the inquisitive scientist that Nathan had known have ever been truly happy on a military vessel?
No. Which meant when Lucas had died, he had died unhappy.
"...You can imagine how important it is for me to have you here. And now I want you to know how important it is to me to be here for you."
He'd only said it once to Lucas. I should have said it more often. Did I ever tell him I loved him? As much as I love Robert?
Robert. Robert had told the UEO were to place the explosives that destroyed the very infrastructure Lucas had been trying to rebuild. If Robert hadn't been working for the UEO, Lucas would still be alive.
Yet, if Robert hadn't been working for the UEO, I wouldn't have gotten him back. It was a cruelly cold realization. An equally cold second realization occurred to Nathan. Years would pass, and with each anniversary that came and went, he would be forced to celebrate Robert's return on the very same day that marked Lucas' passing. Worse, he'd be forced to know that the events were further intertwined.
I've gained one son and lost another on the same day.
Nathan stared at the black screen in front of him, knowing that Lucas' last few minutes of life had been spent in front of a computer very similar. He died doing what he loved.
Wasn't that supposed to be a comforting thought? Perhaps it might have been, if Nathan hadn't realized that Lucas, who had died being a scientist, was going to be buried in a traditional military ceremony.
That's when the tears finally came.
"...You can imagine how important it is for me to have you here. And now I want you to know how important it is to me to be here for you."
I should have said it more often. But I'll never get to say it again. I'll never get to make certain how much he knows.
As the tears continued to fall, undisturbed, a list of things Nathan would never be able to do with Lucas kept repeating itself in his mind. He'd never be able to speak to Lucas again. He'd never be able to introduce him to Robert.
But Nathan knew, that although he'd never be able to introduce them, he'd think of Lucas each and every time he looked at Robert. Because Robert's presence would be a constant reminder of what Nathan had lost.
"He didn't make it."
Nathan wasn't sure he was going to, either.
The End.
A/N: Yes, gruesome, I'm sorry. Feedback, including constructive criticism is welcomed. And yes. . . still working on that happy fluff I keep talking about. . .