Out Of The Blue

by Allegra

The seaQuest crew are sent to investigate research on an underwater oceanography station, but a routine check turns out to be more dangerous than they ever imagined.

8. Out Of The Blue - Part 8

OUT OF THE BLUE (PART EIGHT)

By Allegra

See Part One for disclaimers etc.

Nathan honestly did try to take Dr. Westphalen's advice, but rest was the last thing his body wanted to do. Stomping distractedly around his quarters, he eventually opted to call Ford in and discuss the situation at the MEDS station. Lucas might be back in the safety of the seaQuest, there were still a lot of unanswered questions and a lot of mess to be cleared up. Switching on his PAL, he ordered, "Commander Ford."
"Yes, sir."
"Could you come to the ward room...and bring Lieutenant O'Neill, too."
"Yes, sir."
Nathan ran a comb through his dishevelled hair, noting a few unwelcome new grey streaks under the brutally honest lighting of his bathroom, then directed his course to the ward room. He didn't have to wait long before the group were all assembled in front of him and the captain began to regret calling this meeting. It had seemed like a good idea a few moments ago, a way to distract himself from Lucas' condition, but now the prospect of having to actually address the situation back on the base was not a welcome one.
"Sit down, gentlemen." He ran one hand through his hair, wracking his brains for a place to start. It was hard to organize everything which had happened in his brain when there were so many holes. He had been half way across the ocean when most of the events which precipitated the cave-in had taken place. "We need to discuss the situation back at the MEDS station. What happened to Dr. Olafsson after we left and where is he now?"
Krieg shrugged, "He got on a shuttle back to Anchorage as far as I know."
Bridger paused suddenly. A question which had gone unconsidered until now jumped into the forefront of his mind. "I thought the shuttles were out of order, that it was the reason why no help could be brought in after the cave-in to get our people out?"
Ford shook his head, "Yes, that is true, but a seaQuest shuttle took Cleo's body up to the surface. He went with them and returned to the Westview Biochemical Facility."
Bridger nodded. "So he has simply assigned himself another research position?"
Ford flicked through the notes he had brought. "Uh, actually, he founded Westview, so I don't think any assigning was necessary."
Nathan snapped his fingers in O'Neill's direction, his concentration already wandering back to the ailing teenager in medbay. "Oh, before I forget. O'Neill, we need to contact Lucas' parents...let them know what's happened."
Silence descended on the room as everyone considered how ugly that job might be. The captain added, "I expect the hospital will deal with Cleo's next of kin but, since we know her parents are dead, perhaps you could put out an APB on that boy Zach. I know Lucas would want to know we tried...that we did something to track those kids down."
O'Neill nodded, sternly. This was not going to be a good day, that is if he even succeeded in locating any of the aforementioned people. Bridger sighed, suddenly feeling fatigued by all this. He leaned back wearily in his seat; this was all too much to digest right now. There were so many matters to be dealt with but his brain simply wouldn't allow him to play captain anymore. "All right, thank you, gentlemen. That's all." Taking their cue, the two men filed towards the door.
Ford lagged behind and stopped in the doorway, "Sir?" Nathan looked up, slowly. "I'd be more than happy to take over the general running of seaQuest for a few days if you'd like some space. Spend some time with Lucas."
He spoke tentatively, not wanting to overstep his mark. Jonathan had spent a good portion of the past week at the boat's helm and he didn't want to look too eager to take over command. However, the captain did look terrible and the following days would not be easy on him. Lucas wasn't entirely out of the woods and it didn't take more than a glimpse in Bridger's direction to see that his stoicism was wearing thin.
To Ford's relief, Nathan looked up and smiled, wanly. "Thank you, commander. That would be, that would be a great help."
Jonathan nodded, curtly. "Don't mention it."

Lucas opened his eyes for the first time in twenty four hours to find himself even more confused than he had been when he woke up earlier. He was trying to sort out in his mind what the hell had happened to plant him in the hospital and whether his vague recollection of Bridger and Dr. Westphalen by his bedside talking about breathing tubes had been some kind of bizarre nightmare or not. He tentatively lifted one hand to his face, recoiling with a hissing expulsion of breath as he accidentally pressed a bit too hard on the blossoming bruise extending across his forehead. Well, at least he had ascertained that there was no tube down his throat, which didn't help him much because the strange dream had seen Kristin remove it anyway. Lucas sighed, wearily. Confusion was not a mental state he was accustomed to. In fact, he was usually the one sorting out other people's confusions and he didn't like being on the other end of it one bit.
He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, realizing that he must still be on seaQuest and not transferred to an up-world hospital; he would recognize that odd, blue-tinged lighting anywhere. It was somewhere during these series of non-thoughts that he began to imagine that he actually must have suffered a bit more than a simple blow to the head, considering the numerous IVs and the backwards writing on the glass window stating ICU. Lucas paused, flexing both hands for a moment, relieved to find them both fit and well, wiggling at the end of perfectly intact arms. That ruled out not being able to use a computer keyboard ever again. He hesitated before lifting his head as much as his throbbing bruise would allow to see what was going on down at the feet end which turned out to be a plaster cast adorning his right leg.
"Oh," he breathed, his voice barely audible and scratchy from tubes and cave dust. It wasn't really an exclamatory 'oh' and certainly not a disappointed one, more of a detached 'that isn't very nice and this isn't my leg' kind of utterance.
That small word was all it took to awaken Bridger, who had spent a good couple of minutes trying to get hold of Lucas' parents before delegating to Tim and returning to the boy's bed side. He found himself unable to function in any other capacity than hospital mascot for the time being so decided to give in to it and brave Kristin's disapproving looks rather than spend time pacing in his quarters. "Lucas! You're awake!"
He was surprised at his own astonishment. He had known the boy would wake up some time and it had been a good day since those blue eyes had last seen him. Lucas attempted a small smile in his captain's direction, momentarily relieved that someone had noticed and recognized him. He had been having one of those paranoid moments when you've been asleep for a ridiculously long period of time and then wake up to a silent room with only your own thoughts for company. This pleasant peace soon escalates into a genuine fear that perhaps nothing exists outside your own body or that other people can't even see you. Well, suffice to say, Lucas was very happy to see Bridger.
"Are you in any pain?"
Lucas shook his head cautiously, determined not to instigate another drunk party in his brain. "I'm...just numb."
Nathan wasn't sure what else to say at this point. His initial question was going to be if Lucas remembered anything but, given the situation with Cleo, it would only bring the whole incident rushing back with unnecessary speed. It was better to give the teenager a chance to recuperate mentally and physically before anyone foisted the specifics of the accident onto him. Fortunately, Lucas saved Nathan from his floundering. "Captain, is it broken?"
His eyes travelled tiredly to the leg cast mummifying his leg and the traction weights pulling firmly towards the foot of the bed. "You had a fractured femur and pelvic bone. The surgeons have put a plate inside your leg to hold the fragments together."
Lucas listened mutely, digesting this information with sluggish speed. His mind processed the long-term repercussions of all these injuries, grimly wondering if he would end up with one leg shorter than the other, limping around like a pirate from one of those old movies. Great, he thought, the freak kid genius with the limp. Just what he needed to complete his reputation as the guy to hang with. "Traction?"
The husky but enthusiastic voice of the resident doctor answered just as Nathan was about to reply. "Don't panic, it's just for a few weeks and you'll have exercises to do." Lucas didn't dare pull a face to match his emotions; it would only get him into trouble and further pain. Westphalen did all her customary routine checks of his vital signs and tugged the bedcovers further up the boy's chest.
"How's your throat?"
"It hurts." Lucas hadn't really considered his throat much, it seemed to be the least of his worries in comparison to the strange numb ache slowly awakening in his thigh and abdomen. Kristin angled her torch into his mouth and pulled back, sharply.
"Well, you swallowed a great deal of dust and the tubes can occasionally cause minor irritation to the soft tissues of the throat. Nathan, I think a glass of water is in order." Bridger fumbled with the water jug by the bed and gently supported Lucas' head as he sipped the cool liquid before flopping back on the pillow.
Feeling a bit more revitalized and somewhat more alert for the jolt which the cold water had conferred on him, Lucas asked, "What happened? I don't...remember anything."
Nathan and Kristin looked from one to the other, both secretly hoping that the other would make the first move to reply. It was the doctor who took the lead, deciding that a woman's touch was what was needed under the circumstances. "Do you remember we were working at the MEDS station?"
Lucas nodded, his mind already beginning to fill in the blanks with rapid speed, but he allowed Kristin to continue. "There was a cave-in and you were trapped under some rubble..."
Lucas breathed, "Cleo? Is Cleo okay?" And there it was. The question everyone had been praying never to hear or be forced to answer. Neither adult replied, which was all the response the boy needed. Kristin reached for his hand, "I'm so sorry, Lucas."
Lucas let his eyes rest on her hand over his for a moment before carefully extricating himself from her grasp. He didn't want anyone touching him. He couldn't comprehend the words which she was saying and he didn't want to. Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down to a stand still as if the Earth had stopped revolving on its axis and time paused to mourn the loss of another human being. How could he still be here when Cleo was dead? It felt surreal, untrue.
Nathan sat, listlessly, beside the bed, wanting so much to put his arms around the boy but certain it was the last thing Lucas wanted. He could see the tears shining in those blue eyes and the teenager turned his face away from the scrutiny of the two adults.
Bridger began, "Lucas..." but the boy cut him short, his voice icy and devoid of any emotion.
"I'd like to be alone." Nathan looked to Kristin who returned a pursed lip expression of concern and got up from the edge of the bed with the captain in tow. Grief was no stranger to either of them, but somehow it was this which made them want to reach out to Lucas even more, to help him through it. But their sympathy had no place here, not now.
Lucas contained his sorrow until he heard the door close in Bridger's wake before allowing the pent up tears to slip down his cheeks. The rest of him was completely paralysed. It was as if every cell of his body had been frozen into stasis and incapacitated him. The tears came but it was hard to know the reason. It didn't really feel like grief. Lucas couldn't imagine Cleo dead, couldn't believe that he would never see her again, couldn't get his head around any of it, yet he knew it was there. There was a torrent of guilt and pain welling up inside his passive body waiting to tear him apart. Right now, it was all he could do to think straight and then his thoughts were caught up in the tide of sedatives and pain killers, washing him into oblivion once more.

"Captain, you wanted to see me?" Nathan looked up from the files he had been idly flicking through to see Tim O'Neill paused in the doorway.
"Yes, come in. Shut the hatch." When the lieutenant was sitting opposite him, the captain attempted a half hearted smile, asking, "Have you had any luck with Lucas' parents?"
"No, sir. His mother is completely unreachable. I haven't even found a lead, and I ended up leaving a message for his father."
Bridger nodded. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, that Lucas would lose Cleo and then be forced to accept the fact that neither of his parents would be there for him either. "How about Cleo's next of kin? That boy Zach."
Tim swallowed and looked guiltily around the room, "Not much luck there either, sir. The last lead we had on him was in New York City with some friends, but that was three months ago and we've no idea where he might have headed next."
It was a horrible fact to face, that neither Cleo nor Lucas had anybody outside of seaQuest who cared enough to keep them informed. Perhaps worse was the fact that Lucas had not even inquired about his parents or expected them to be concerned. His first thoughts had been completely detached from any familial ties. Nathan sat back in his chair, sighing deeply. He wasn't really addressing Tim when he murmured, "What a mess."
Tim nodded slowly, unsure of whether this comment warranted a response. It was no secret how close Bridger had grown to Lucas since he had been planted aboard seaQuest two years ago and the way that the crew had been avoiding the captain since the accident was hardly coincidence. Having said that, Bridger had not exactly been accessible either, spending a great deal of his time either at the teenager's bed side or holed up in his quarters under the guise of dealing with paperwork. Commander Ford had been sensitive enough to know when to stand back and when to take the reins of the boat. He took care of most matters, only bothering the captain when it was absolutely necessary.
Fiddling with the corner of the papers he was holding, Tim ventured, "How's he doing, captain?" Nathan looked up at his lieutenant in half surprise, his face giving the impression that he had no idea what the answer to that question was. Then, the surprise crumbled into a weary mask of fatigue as he rubbed one hand across his forehead, "Uh, he's, he's doing better...I mean, he's awake, so that's good..."
Tim prompted, "But?"
"But this morning I had to tell him that Cleo didn't make it and now I've got to tell him that his parents can't be found." O'Neill took in the tired resignation of the captain and chose to keep silent. There was nothing anyone could say to make this better and, until Lucas was up to seeing visitors, there was nothing anyone could do to help out either. He waited awkwardly for some kind of dismissal or further comment, but Bridger simply sat there, his face a mask of passivity. Finally, he spoke.
"Thank you, lieutenant. Get in contact with the local hospital and find out what's happening with Cleo's body." Bridger looked around the room, trying to think of anything else which needed to be dealt with. His usually quick brain was slovenly and dull now. "You'll let me know if you make any progress."
"Of course, sir." Tim stood to leave, then paused in the doorway, half turning back to say something before thinking better of it and making his way back to the bridge.

Lucas was grateful for the small mercy of Westphalen and Bridger leaving him alone for a few hours. It took so much energy just to save face in their presence, to stop himself from acting how he wanted to act. He could tell that they wanted to help him through his grief, to be there to support him, but that was the last thing he wanted right now. In fact, what he wanted at this exact moment was a punch bag, something he could pound into until his anger was spent. Unfortunately, the source of another major gripe was the fact that, to add injury to insult, he was physically incapacitated and wouldn't have the energy to even hit a pillow and dent it. All Lucas knew was that he was absolutely furious with someone, with the world which had rejected Cleo and which had rejected him.
He wasn't self-pitying; he had it good here on seaQuest, better than most with his kind of background. He had never been a religious person. Science usually segregated the believers from the sceptics, and not even the knowledge that Cleo was dead made him wonder about what lay beyond this life. What phased in and out of his mind was, if a higher power genuinely existed, was it some kind of sick joke that she was made to suffer as much as she did? Was she an example to the rest of the world, a model to make everyone else grateful for the happiness they did find? What the fuck did it all mean? Where did they get off wreaking such misery?! Wasn't it enough that she should lose her parents when she was only twelve and have to look after four other children while stranded on a deep sea depot that Cleo was then thrown into a society that didn't care and drove her away again only to end her life so cruelly? It didn't matter whether her body was buried beneath the rubble of the depot or a walking shell of a human being above ground. Nobody noticed and nobody cared. They could all go to hell. Each for their own. From now on, he would ignore them all, live his own life and let everyone else fend for themselves. He would right the wrongs done to Cleo in this life, make others know what it was like to suffer. There would be no more helpful programming to save empires or prevent world crises. Lucas washed his hands of it all.
God! He wanted to lash out at something so much, pummel someone to death and see the blood pouring from their carcasses as he finished them off. That would be justice...if only there were someone to be held accountable for these horrors. Lucas felt like he had a ball of molten lead buried deep within his stomach, leaking toxic poisons into his gut and amassing rotten bile which pumped round his body like a trail of venom consuming and tearing at his innards, plunging him into inimitable frustration. It was a worse torture than the pain he had suffered in that cave with no drugs to dull the agony which devoured him so completely that he couldn't even ask for relief.
Lucas lay in the detestable hospital bed, certain that he would never sleep again and determined that no one should come near him again, that he would let no one in to dissipate the fuelling anger he felt. He was torn between utter exhaustion mingled with sorrows so hidden even he could not access their meaning, and the resolve to harness his feelings so he could keep Cleo's mission alive.
He didn't know when the IV drugs got the better of him but it was not long before Lucas' will power was overcome by his weakened body and sleep claimed him. It was at this juncture that Ben Krieg poked his head around the door, slipping unnoticed into the room. He had been firmly told by Westphalen that Lucas needed plenty of rest but she had relented after the truth about Cleo had been revealed. She conceded that it might be helpful for Lucas to speak to someone who was more of a friend than a parental figure about his feelings and Ben could be the perfect foil.
Ben hesitated in the doorway when he realized that the boy was fast asleep, not wanting to wake him, but somehow he couldn't turn away. Instead, he drew a chair up close to the bed, his eyes trailing over the still form where a frown was still firmly etched on the youthful forehead. It was difficult to imagine what was running through that genius mind to create such furrows of malcontent. Lucas was accustomed to mental tortures, to concealing his real feelings for the sake of keeping them secret. His mind was like a steel trap, impregnable to anyone, perhaps even himself, and it was frightening to imagine what might be released if the boy ever opened up to someone. The poor kid would be in therapy until kingdom come. Ben's hand hovered over Lucas' arm before deciding that it might wake him unnecessarily. Instead, he contented himself with lightly stroking a lock of blonde hair off the teenager's forehead, one finger tracking over the deepening frown marked there. The boy moved restlessly under his touch for a moment, prompting Ben to withdraw his hand rapidly, his breath catching in his throat until Lucas lay still once more.
Krieg moved quietly towards the door, sparing a final glance in the sleeping kid's direction. There would be plenty of time to talk later when he was stronger...when both of them were.

But as is so often the case in this life, the small things we intend to do fall by the way or some obstacle presents itself which makes it difficult to carry through. In the case of Lieutenant Benjamin Krieg, this obstacle was a mixture of the boy's reaction towards him and the awkwardness he felt with expressing his own emotions. He had been reluctant even to speak to Katie about his trouble in dealing with the aftermath of the cave-in, and the promise of sitting down with Lucas to help ease the pain was more frightening to the lieutenant than any exam or Bermuda Triangle storm. He felt guilty for not following through and for being put off by Lucas' cold, indifferent attitude to everything he said, because in his heart he knew exactly why he was backing off and it had nothing to do with Lucas. As morale officer, Krieg was accustomed to helping boost the crew's moods and organize therapeutic activities when the need arose, but when he was so involved in the problem and witness to all the events which had so changed the teenager, he found it impossible to know how to respond.
The third day of Lucas' stay in medbay, with his leg still in traction and dosed up on painkillers, Ben had stopped by to pay his respects and hopefully cheer his young friend up. Kristin had already warned the lieutenant about the boy's emotional turn for the worse since they had told him about Cleo but Krieg still wasn't prepared for the despondent teenager he found. Lucas still looked terrible, his eyes red-rimmed from fatigue and too many sleepless nights and his attitude was so lack lustre even Ben found it difficult to sustain conversation for any period of time.
"Hey kid, how you doin'?" The question was rhetorical so he rushed on, holding up a brown paper bag. "Grapes. The real thing. I called them in specially."
Lucas eyed the fruit suspiciously from under a hooded brow. "Thanks, Ben." His voice was quiet but curt and Krieg sat down beside the bed, slapping his hands against his knees.
"So, what do you do for fun round here?"
"I guess you'd have to ask someone who's having fun for the answer to that." He steadfastly avoided eye contact with his friend, tugging at the plaster holding his IV in place, peeling it and flicking it without so much as a twitch of emotion.
"What about signing your cast?" Ben found himself flagging with the chipper routine within moments, but Lucas was important enough for him to persevere. Lucas shrugged, still not looking up as Krieg went round to the other side of the bed with a black marker kindly left by one of the nurses. "Hey, looks like I'm christening it."
"Yeah, well I don't get a lot of visitors." The tone was cold and nonchalant and Ben wasn't entirely sure how to take the comment.
"I think Dr. Westphalen is doing a good job of keeping everyone at bay."
Lucas snorted, derisively, "Yeah right, I bet they're beating the door down." Suddenly losing the desire to stand signing smiley faces and jokes on the boy's leg cast, Ben decided that now was the right time to try and talk to the teenager. He sat down on the edge of the bed, grimly noting how little space the boy's small frame actually took up on the expanse of bed sheets.
"Lucas, half this boat would be in here like a flash if they thought you wanted to see them." The boy narrowed his piercing blue eyes and stared at Krieg, slyly.
"Funny, I don't remember sending out a 'keep clear' memo. Perhaps I was too drugged up to remember."
Ben had never known the teenager to be so cutting in his remarks and it threw him off guard. "Lucas, come on. What's eating you?" He regretted the words the instant they had left his lips, suddenly rehashing all the callous and insensitive moments he had ever put his signature to in the past decade or so. He braced himself as he caught the disbelieving glare of the boy.
"What's eating me?" The words came out in a sickening half laugh, humourless and cold. "I don't know, Ben, perhaps it's something to do with the fact that Cleo is dead and I'm stuck in this damned bed with a steel plate in my leg while everyone else is just getting on with their lives like nothing's happened."
Ben watched Lucas in silence for a moment, contemplating the broken kid in front of him. The boy had endured too much for any kind words to patch up. "Lucas, I know you don't want to hear this right now, but...Cleo...It was very quick. She wouldn't have felt a thing."
"Yeah, you're right...I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear that she's gone to a good place or that she didn't feel any pain. What the hell do you know, Ben?!"
Ben felt his heart beating faster in his chest, afraid of what he had unleashed or of how he could keep going without sending Lucas into hysterics. "Okay, I don't know, Lucas. I've never lost anyone close to me and I've never died...but sometimes that's the way we learn to deal with death. We can never know but we have to move on, accept it and let ourselves grieve."
Lucas' hand moved swiftly away from his IV line, his eyes flashing with sheer hatred and burning anger. "Move on?! It's been three days! I'm supposed to just move on and forget her! I'm supposed to just grieve and get it over with? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you and rain on the parade, but it's not that simple." Ben opened his mouth to try and calm the teenager but Lucas was on the war path. "You think you can just incinerate Cleo's body or give her a poignant sailor's death and then get back to normal? I loved her..."
He stopped, his voice choking into silence, his breathing coming in ragged, barely controlled gasps. Lucas swallowed and quietly continued, disciplining his failing composure. "I'm sorry if it's not convenient for you or Captain Bridger or Dr. Westphalen for me to fall apart for a while, but I think I have earned the right, don't you?"
Ben knew it was a rhetorical question, but in the silence which ensued, he felt obliged to say something. "Of course you have."
Lucas almost cut him off, "And I think I've earned the right to have everyone leave me the hell alone so I can hate you all in peace."
Ben hadn't been prepared for that response. All this time he had been convinced that Lucas needed someone to help him open up and grieve properly, allow the floodgates to burst and give the boy some kind of release. In fact, the lieutenant had been certain that, by the end of this session, Lucas would be a sobbing wreck. Not for one second had it crossed his mind that the teenager would be angry, that he would be repaying kind with hatred. "Hate us?"
Lucas' steely, blue eyes darted around the room, unable to rest on any one object for more than a second. "Hate everyone! Hate this world for doing this to me every time! For doing it to Cleo when she had her whole life ahead of her! God, I just want to get out of here!" With Ben still in a stupor from the torrent of words hurled in his direction, Lucas threw the oximeter away from him and tore at the IV in his arm, blood pooling in his carelessness. Despite the searing pain in his leg, the boy tried to haul himself up, only managing to entangle himself in the array of equipment and traction weights. Ben pulled himself together in a matter of seconds, pushing Lucas back down onto the bed with overwhelming force which nearly knocked the breath from the teenager's lungs. The boy's strength was waning with every passing moment, giving Ben the opportunity to reach out and hit the alarm button at the head of the bed.
"Lucas, Lucas, calm down!" Krieg could feel the wracking sobs in the thin frame pinned beneath his body as Lucas' struggles weakened, those blue eyes still seething with rage. Then, the lieutenant found himself pulled away from the bed by a nurse and orderly who restrained the teenager, one gripping his slender arm with excessive force while the other administered a sedative directly into the vein. It barely took a moment before Lucas lay passive and limp on the bed, surrendered to the nurse's will. They attempted to straighten the teenager's leg and tend to the ripped gash on his hand before one nurse turned to Krieg, accusingly, "What happened here?"
Ben stood back, shocked. "I was just talking to him and he went wild...I don't..." He felt their castigating eyes on him and was relieved when Kristin hurried in on the commotion.
"I'll take it from here. Thank you."
The nurse and orderly left, begrudgingly, their faces clearly displaying their mortification that this man should be allowed to remain in the patient's room a second longer.
Lucas' breathing was gradually evening out, his eyes closed in a mockery of peaceful slumber. "What happened, Ben?" Kristin's voice was encouraging and soothing, a calming influence on Ben's rattled nerves. He stammered, "He hates us, he said he hated everyone and then he tried to get up. He was hysterical, Kristin. I could barely control him."
"It's okay. You did your best, Ben. Nobody can anticipate how someone will react. Whatever effect you had, I assure you it will be a step in the direction."
Ben nodded, unsure of who was trying to convince who. "You don't think it was too soon? I mean, look at him, he's wiped out."
Kristin glanced at the monitor read outs, raising her eyebrows. "Well, I wouldn't have let you see him if I'd known he'd react this way, but chances are this has been a few days brewing. Hopefully, it will give him some peace for a little while."
"I hope you're right."

Tim O'Neill had been trying to get hold of someone who could tell him about Cleo's body intermittently for the past two hours. It was proving harder than talking down terrorists and the lieutenant was reaching the end of his tether. Every time he got somewhere, a do-gooding nurse would explain that the rest in line of authority was otherwise disposed and he would have to call back later. At first, Tim had resisted the urge to throw UEO weight around but eventually it had been the only way to get the hospital's attention. Finally, he was through directly to the mortician.
"This is Lieutenant O'Neill from the UEO seaQuest. Could you give us the status on a Cleo Walker?"
The mortician was a large, barrel-chested man with greasy dark hair which fell in oily waves across his broad forehead. His eyes were sunken and wide-set, like currents in uncooked dough. When he moved, a few of his many chins wobbled like unsightly blamanche. Tim found it mutually fascinating and repulsive, and tried to focus on getting the information Captain Bridger had requested. The mortician flicked through the papers beside him. "Ah yes, young girl who was brought in a few days ago?"
"Yes."
The rotund man shook his head, "Uh, she was autopsied and cremated yesterday."
Tim swallowed hard. Bridger had not explained what he wanted with the information, but the lieutenant was certain that this was not going to be welcome news. Although he hadn't been on the MEDS station himself, Tim was aware how close Lucas had been to Cleo and it was likely that Bridger wanted to pay some last respects on the boy's behalf. "What happened to her ashes?"
"They were scattered over the cliff near Alice churchyard and her name will be added to the plaque by the church door with the next batch." The mortician looked up at Tim, clearly registering the defeated expression on O'Neill's face. "She was a pretty young thing."
Tim nodded, solemnly. "Yes, she was."
"It's always hard when he takes the young ones."
The lieutenant cleared his throat. "And the verdict of the autopsy?" There was further page rustling and a couple of grim sounding mumbles. "Miss Walker had suffered massive internal injuries. Her left lung and rib cage were completely crushed and she also suffered a cerebral haemorrhage. Given the circumstances of her death, there was nothing unusual in her injuries." Tim nodded, noting down a few of the particulars to pass onto Bridger. As if unsure of how to fill the time, the mortician murmured, "No family. Poor kid. That's a tragedy. Did you know her well?"
Tim looked up, awkwardly. "No." Quickly changing the subject, he briskly asked, "Can you send over a copy of your report?"
"Yes, of course, lieutenant."
"Thank you for your help." The mortician opened his mouth as if to speak but Tim cut the line dead before anything else could be said. For some reason, he suddenly couldn't stomach the prospect of hearing the man's apologies for Cleo's death. Perhaps it was guilt or simply sorrow, but Tim just wanted to wash his hands of the entire case. First though, he had to face Bridger.

It wasn't long before the entire boat seemed to know about the scuffle between Lucas and Ben, partially aided by the fact that Captain Bridger was clearly miles away when it came to doing his job and anxiety was wearing him down. In light of the teenager's reaction to the incident, Kristin had decided to do the rounds of the boat in order to speak to anyone involved with the rescue and recovery mission. No matter how removed from the actual cave-in they might have been, it was her duty to ensure that any psychological fallout from the station was dealt with promptly. Ben had been surprisingly open, mainly thanks to Commander Hitchcock for taking him firmly under her wing and acting as confidante. Chief Crocker was releasing his emotions in a healthy torrent of anger directed at Dr. Wagner while most of the other crew members had been in so little contact with the events that Westphalen's job was over quickly. Nathan had spoken to her at length about all kinds of issues but his actions had been more than enough evidence of his emotional state. While he was clearly upset, his feelings were perfectly natural and Commander Ford's smooth transition to acting captain meant that there was no cause for concern as to whether Bridger was fit to command.
Lucas, on the other hand, had been despondent and difficult to talk to since his outburst and, as the days passed, Kristin's concern grew. It was natural for people to react strangely when mourning but Lucas was showing no signs of improving. He seemed to be sinking deeper into a mire of despair, closing himself off from his comrades and retreating into territory where no words or touch could reach him. She had tried speaking to him and discussing her own losses to see if it helped him but nothing made any impact. Lucas sat passive and sullen throughout. Her words fell on deaf ears, barely registering in his mind let alone releasing his grief.
The one benefit of his decision to cut himself off from the rest of the boat was that Lucas threw himself into exercising his leg and getting back on his feet. Kristin hoped that this in itself would lighten the teenager's depression. Movement would quickly see his release from medbay and back to his own quarters, not to mention the subsequent decrease in his drug intake which would balance out the mood swings more effectively as he returned to normal. In light of this, the doctor decided not to push Lucas into talking about Cleo, praying that Nature would take her own course and aid him through the difficult weeks ahead.
It was disconcerting to watch the boy pushing himself to his physical limit day in and day out, sweat beading his brow and those blue eyes burning with determined concentration. Lucas refused to rest, collapsing into an exhausted heap each evening after supper. His energy levels astounded everyone and yet he never seemed to burn himself out, simply slipping from one day to the next without complaint, exercising his muscles with increasing vigour. He listened to doctors and nurses alike chiding him to stop and rest, but whenever the teenager submitted himself to their examinations, his prognosis was positive. There was little anyone could say or do to impact his stubborn determination to get well. However, Lucas rarely spoke to anyone at length, sticking to simple niceties and innocuous comments as if to ensure that no one could probe further than he was willing. He was civil to everyone who dropped by to visit but once information had been exchanged there wasn't much anyone could do to hold a conversation. It was as the teenager could not react in a social situation anymore, that the blow of Cleo's death had taken away any ability he once possessed to talk generally with those around him.
After a week of this, Kristin came to give her daily examination of Lucas' leg and it took nearly all her energy just to get the boy to lie down. "Lucas, this shouldn't take long. Besides, you should rest. It isn't healthy to push your body this hard. Healing takes time not just exercise."
Lucas looked at her, miserably, an expression no one had seen in him for a long time. "I don't care. It's something to do and it doesn't hurt."
Kristin wasn't sure what her face was showing, but the teenager instantly hardened as if afraid that she was going to try and hug him or something. Acknowledging this, the doctor went back to his leg and resumed her lecture. "Muscles get tired and eventually it is counterproductive to push further. They begin to wear rather than grow stronger so you must..."
Her voice trailed off as she stared at his leg, which had been removed from the cast two days earlier. The bruising which had peppered his skin had completely disappeared and the stitches marking where the metal plate had been inserted into his thigh were also invisible. Kristin gently lifted the leg, unable to believe her own eyes and determined to find where the incision had been made. This was impossible. What was going on? No matter which way she turned it, there was not a single mark on the teenager's leg. Where only the previous day there had been barely healed wounds, contusions, and swelling, suddenly there was nothing. Lucas' leg appeared to be completely healed. "My God!"
Lucas looked away from the satellite link he had been watching and down at his leg. Raising himself up on his elbows, he stared down with a mixture of vague disbelief. Kristin looked at him as if he were some kind of freak. "Lucas?" The boy turned his gaze on her, realizing that the doctor was actually looking to him for an explanation, which he was almost embarrassed to admit he couldn't supply. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't think of anything to say. Sitting up, he ran his hands over his right thigh, disbelieving that this could be his own body he was touching, the same body which had been so hideously mutilated less than two weeks ago.
Kristin watched the teenager's face with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He seemed genuinely stumped about the cause of this miraculous healing process despite the fact that he had been pushing himself voraciously for days. However, more worrying than that was the confused expression on his face. Lucas had been distant and difficult to approach in any way since the news of Cleo's death. His moods were constantly in flux which concerned Kristin and Nathan greatly. His mental health was still a big question mark and the fearful frown which had descended across that youthful brow was more perturbing even than the extraordinary recovery of his leg. Westphalen quickly deduced that she needed to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about before further agitation set in.
"It looks like you'll be out of medbay quicker than we thought. Your leg seems to have completely healed." She tried to maintain a positive tone with a sprinkling of indifference as if it were the most natural occurrence ever. Lucas looked up at her in puzzlement, "What?"
"I'll run a few final tests and then I expect you can get back to your quarters this afternoon. How does that sound? Maybe I'll even see what we can do about some chocolate cake."
Kristin desperately hoped the boy would latch onto the positive aspects of the situation rather than dwell on the somewhat frightening recovery he had made. The complete lack of any evidence that his upper leg had been completely crushed by rock was compelling but the last thing Lucas needed was to consider himself some kind of freak with supernatural healing energy.
Lucas simply stared at Westphalen as if she had just arrived from another planet. How could she just stand there talking about chocolate cake when he had just developed a mutant power. If he could only have one wish in this life, it was to be a normal kid who wasn't set apart from the rest of the population by someone splashing in the gene pool. As if it wasn't hard enough to adjust to being a seventeen year old with a Ph.D. and countless other credits to his name without adding this to the list of reasons to put him on a pedestal. Why did these things always happen to him? One minute he had his entire life mapped out ahead of him, leaving seaQuest with Cleo and starting life afresh as a new person, devoid of the ties which bound him to the Wolenczak name and all its expectations. Now, that life had been buried in rubble with the one person who could have set him free, offering him a paltry existence in return along with the added bonus of making sure he would never make friends. Mutants and freaks were always doomed to be loners; he had learned that lesson the hard way.
A voice which he was surprised to realize was his own asked, "What's happening to me?"
Dr. Westphalen looked up from the print out which was pouring from one of the bed side monitors. Lucas had barely spoken to her for days, let alone asked anything of her. The lost look on his face reminded her of how lonely he must truly be, how isolating his grief made him. It was difficult enough for any adult to lose a loved one even when they were surrounded by others who shared their grief and could provide mutual comfort. It was almost inconceivable to imagine how hard it must be for a teenager with barely any friends whom he genuinely trusted and not a single soul who shared his loss. Cleo had been as friendless as Lucas felt in this world and there were few who would mourn her passing. He alone bore the burden of her death, savagely shaking up his life and firmly putting him back in his place. As Kristin looked over at the defeated boy, she knew instantly what he was thinking, that he didn't deserve happiness, that he didn't deserve a break. She sat down at the head of the bed beside Lucas and squeezed him close to her, feeling the narrow shoulders sagging with pent up sorrow. "Oh, Lucas."
The doctor drew his head against her chest, listening to the laboured breathing of someone trying hard not to cry, his voice choked with emotion as he repeated the question. "What's happening to me?" Kristin sighed, wishing she could gather him up in her arms and take him away from everything which had ever hurt him and turned him into the shell he had become.
"I don't know, but it's going to be okay. The powers of rejuvenation are still a mystery even to medical scientists. People are told they'll never walk again and, by some indecipherable, perhaps even spiritual, means, they stand up and walk. It doesn't make you any different. You're still the same old Lucas...and we all still love you more than anything in the world."
She kissed the top of his head lightly, hoping that the love emanating from her body was somehow getting through to him. "Everything's going to be all right, I promise."
She hushed him, her voice cooing the boy into content silence. After what might have been minutes or only seconds, Kristin looked down at the teenager gently cradled in her arms and felt her heart swell with emotion as she realized that he was fast asleep. His breath came in deep, even strides and the doctor carefully slid her body down the bed a bit to make herself more comfortable, hoping that no one interrupted them. Lucas needed this more than anything else and nothing was going to get in her way of providing it.

"Sir, have you got a moment?" Krieg stood in the doorway of Bridger's quarters, hands clasped uncertainly in front of him. He had been waiting a considerable amount of time before taxing his captain with queries, but it had been over a week since the accident and some action needed to be taken. A team had been sent back to the MEDS station to examine the cause of collapse but the amount of debris made it difficult to assess anything beyond preliminary comments. Most of the information was useless and the majority of the team had already concluded that it was a random cave-in due to the mining of an area which was near a fault line anyway. Ben, however, had other suspicions and he knew that Dr. Westphalen had been much too preoccupied with Lucas and her psychological profiles of the seaQuest crew to think about it.
"Yes, lieutenant. Take a seat." He gestured to the opposite chair and Krieg sat down, stiffly. He really didn't want to be having this conversation, especially considering the inevitable reaction Bridger would have. They would demand justice for the horrific results of the cave-in, for Cleo's death and Lucas' injuries, but it was the captain's personal response which Krieg was anticipating. "What's up?"
"I wanted to speak to you about the, uh, incident last week."
Nathan nodded, severely. He knew that Ben was concerned but he was starting to tire of the constant questions about how Lucas was doing and what action was being taken against Wagner when Bridger could provide no answers or words of assurance. "Ah, yes. So far the team's investigations have been pretty fruitless. I don't know how long it will be before they uncover anything useful, if they ever do." Ben tugged lightly at the ends of his sleeves, licking his lips which had mysteriously become very parched. "No, actually, I meant that I had something to tell you." Bridger widened his eyes in interested surprise. "Go on."
"Well, after you all left, Lucas had a theory about the polychromatite but we didn't have time to take it further before the whole structure collapsed." Krieg looked up at the captain, his brain struggling to find the appropriate words which wouldn't instigate an inexorable explosion.
Nathan prompted, "What kind of theory?"
"He ran some tests with Westphalen and..."
"What's the theory, lieutenant?" The captain's voice was snappy and impatient which was not a good sign, but Krieg battled on regardless. "I didn't see any evidence of it myself but Lucas believed that there was nothing manufactured in that rock at all. He was convinced that it was naturally occurring and that no one, not even Wagner and Olafsson, could have tampered with the structure of the samples we were taking."
"You mean, you think Wagner and Olafsson have been lying all along?"
"That's what Lucas believed - yes. But the point I'm trying to make is that he made this discovery just hours before the cave-in occurred."
Nathan leaned forward in his chair, his brain racing over Ben's words and whipping up a whirl of conflicting emotions as the sequence of events clicked into place. "And you think the two are related? That Olafsson is soliciting with Wagner on this and Lucas got too close?"
Ben nodded, solemnly. "I think...we were supposed to die in there. All of us." Neither spoke further. Ben waited in silence for Bridger to dismiss him or ask for more information, but it was clear that all of this was coming as a significant shock. For once, the lieutenant had the tact to know when to take his cue. He decided to turn his steps towards medbay and let Kristin know the situation. He might try and drop in on Lucas but it became increasingly difficult to say anything to the teenager anymore and, to be frank, Krieg's emotions were fraying at the edges after speaking to Bridger.
Ben pushed open the doors and ambled over to the desk. "Is Dr. Westphalen around?"
The young nurse looked up from her records with a thunderous expression which instantly melted as Krieg turned on his charm and offered her the most winning smile he could muster. There were still a fair few benefits of being a chronic flirt. It meant that he could even do it on command, contrary to whatever he was feeling inside. "Oh, I think she's in bay three. I could go..."
"With Lucas Wolenczak?"
The nurse glanced down at the list beside her, "Yes, that's right."
Krieg rapped his knuckles against the counter, "Don't worry. I was going to drop by the kid anyway. I'll speak to her there." The nurse smiled in return and watched Ben as he headed in the direction of Lucas' room, tilting her head slightly to assess for herself whether the rumours about his ass were true. Maybe another day she could squeeze a date out of him for shore leave.

Ben peered through the glass window of his friend's room and was surprised to find not the physiotherapy session he had expected but two figures curled up on the bed together, looking more like a mother and son than doctor and patient. He paused with his hand over the door knob. Perhaps now was not the time to speak to Kristin about the MEDS station. In fact, he was certain of it. Just looking at the peaceful forms lying contentedly together, fitting one another's bodies like clay moulded in God's own palm, Krieg knew that such comforts were what Lucas needed more than anything else.
He was just about to move away when a movement from the bed caught his attention and Kristin glimpsed him through the window, a small smile playing across her lips. She beckoned him inside and Ben waited patiently as she extricated herself from the tangle of legs and arms, ensuring that Lucas did not wake, and pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed over the boy's body. She kissed him once before leading the way back out into the hall.
Ben waited until they were sufficiently removed from the room before saying, "Well, that's a sight I didn't expect to see in a while."
Kristin raised her eyebrows, "You and me both. I was getting so worried about him."
"How's he doing otherwise, physically I mean?" Westphalen closed the door of her office behind them and sat down on the edge of her desk.
"That's just the problem. The strangest thing occurred when I went to check on him earlier. I examined his leg and, you're not going to believe this, but there is not a single mark on his leg."
Ben stared at her in disbelief. He wasn't really digesting her words, only absorbing them as if it was technical jargon which he couldn't hope to understand. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you saw his leg when we arrived. It was mess, completely mangled. Then, less than two weeks later, he's completely healed. There are no scars, no bruising, nothing."
Ben simply continued to stare, a half smile of uncertainty crossing his face. Was this a joke? "That's impossible. How can that be?"
Kristin opened her hands in an empty gesture of ignorance. "I don't know. I can't explain it. I've run a few tests and I've been monitoring him twice daily since he began physiotherapy. His progress was entirely natural until today. I have to admit that I'm at a loss. I've seen a lot of strange things in my time, most since I boarded this boat, but there's no rational explanation for Lucas' recovery. I shall express my finds to the captain but, without anything unusual in the boy's condition, I'll have to release him." She sighed, wearily. "To top it off, Lucas took it quite hard. It unsettled him and, quite frankly, the last thing he needs is another problem to deal with."
"Well, he's okay physically. That's got to be a good sign, right?"
"Yes, I suppose so." They sat in silence for a moment before Kristin slapped her hands lightly against her thighs. "Would you like a coffee?"
Krieg breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to be off the Lucas topic, not because he didn't care, but because he was only here to deliver more bad news and the quicker he got it over with the better. She reached for the pot. "It's a bit old."
"The stronger the better." He savoured the bitter liquid for a long second before venturing, "Actually, Kristin, I wanted to talk to you about the cave-in."
Kristin looked up with cautious interest from behind her steaming mug of coffee. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I was with Bridger just now, talking about Lucas' theory." He looked at the doctor's blank face for a second, "You know, the theory he had about Wagner. I mean, it happened literally just before the cave-in happened. I don't know about you, but the more I think about it, the more I reckon the kid had a valid point."
"What did Nathan say?"
"Not much. I think he was too shocked to fully comprehend what I was saying...but I figured you'd want to know."
Kristin nodded, grimly. "Tell me, lieutenant, do you agree with Lucas? Do you honestly think that Wagner was double bluffing? Saying he mutated this polychromatite just as a cover for a naturally occurring mineral he couldn't explain?"
Krieg sat forward awkwardly in his chair. "Well, I'm no expert, but no one could deny Wagner and Olafsson would make a bucket load of money from this."
Kristin suddenly grew more animated, "Yes, but who would gamble so much, take such a huge and inevitable risk of ultimate discovery? I mean, they must have known that it was only a matter of time before the rock supply ran low and they were forced to admit that they couldn't manufacture any more, that it was a hoax!"
Krieg shrugged, "Yeah, but greed makes men fools, Kristin. I'm not saying I would do the same thing in their place but I can imagine reaching that point. One can only imagine they thought through how long the rock supplies would last before some action had to be taken."
Westphalen shuddered as she put down her cup and stared through the window into the bustling medbay. "It sends shivers down my spine when I think how we trusted those people. We ate breakfast with Olafsson, chatted over our experiments while all the time he was plotting our deaths, drawing us into the trap he'd set up. I mean, I never liked him but...this?"
"I know. What gets me is that...we were all supposed to die in there, not just Cleo, not just Lucas. No one was ever expected to get to us in time."
"Where's Olafsson now?"
Krieg laughed, humourlessly. "He managed to squeeze himself back on the shuttle to Anchorage. I'd say he's having a party as we speak, and until we've got some proof, we can't touch him."
Kristin's eyes widened suddenly in fear and horrifying realization. "My God, Lucas."
Krieg looked up, fearfully. "What about him?"
"Cleo." The doctor turned glittering hazel eyes on the lieutenant, her face drawn into gaunt lines. "What if Cleo was in on it, too? She was the only other person with the access codes to the mine, someone Wagner clearly trusted." Kristin held Krieg's gaze with her own, fiercely demanding him to listen. "He can't know about this. I don't want him to suffer any more."
Ben swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the unwelcome lump in his throat. "But, Cleo told us how she got involved. Maybe she was duped just as we were."
Kristin's eyes wandered back to the door of Lucas' room, "I hope you're right, I truly do, but...there are just so many questions, so many coincidences. Think about it. Lucas was the one most likely to uncover their secret, the one who needed to be distracted. Then, by some twist of fate, Cleo happens to be on the base...the only other person privy to their plans, the only person who was on board as lackey but with all the right codes. Why would you draft in someone with so little experience, someone who could simply be a potential leak, and then give them all the codes?"
"You think she was planted there to put us off the scent, too?" Kristin widened her eyes, sceptically. Ben nodded, sourly. Westphalen was right...perhaps they did have something to worry about after all. Following her gaze over to bay three, he murmured, "That poor kid. What else does he have to go through before its enough?"

Ben was grateful to be able to close the door on the rest of the world and all its myriad of problems for a few short hours and he almost relished the sound of the hatch wheel spinning shut under his hand. So, it was not exactly surprising when he almost had a heart attack as he whirled round to see Commander Hitchcock sitting on a chair in the centre of the room. "Katie!"
She smiled and then grimaced slightly, looking around her. "It was the only remotely clean place I could find to sit."
Ben stammered, "What did you want?" The commander felt a little taken aback by this question. Okay, so she really didn't want him to jump on her or anything, but she had imagined her ex's greeting to be a bit more enthusiastic. It knocked her off balance to find him so disinterested in her presence all of a sudden. She chided herself for being so selfish; instead, she should be grateful that he was going to make this easier. "I think we need to talk. We need to sort out, you know, what happened before." Ben felt his heart sink a bit in his chest. He appreciated Katie being around to support him more than anything else and he realized that kiss had been a mistake but, after the conversation he had just shared with Dr. Westphalen, the last thing he wanted was to deal with it. "Oh, Katie, can't we do this some other..."
Misinterpreting his motives, she firmly interrupted, "No, Ben! What happened was a mistake and I want it behind us."
"Fine." Ben tightened his jaw, waiting out her torrid speech about where their relationship was headed and where it should stay. "I still love you but we both know it wouldn't work anymore. That kiss was a heat of the moment thing triggered by the accident and now it's over. We have to move past it and forget it ever happened. Okay?"
Ben waved his hands in surrender, "Yeah, yeah, okay! I agree!" Katie was surprised by this rapid accordance. She had expected a short protest at the very least and it was a bit disheartening to feel so disposable. Perhaps she had read more into that kiss than he had. Slowly, it dawned on the commander that Krieg was looking much the worse for wear. "Hey, Ben, what's the matter?"
Picking his way over the junk littering his room, Ben sat down on the bed. "Oh, don't ask." Katie said nothing but when he looked up, the lieutenant could see the inquisitive, anxious look in her eyes, and he relented. "I just spent the past few hours talking to Bridger and then Kristin about Lucas' theory about the polychromatite. Did you hear about that?"
Katie nodded and sat down beside him. "Yes, Commander Ford relayed the information from the captain earlier. I only found out about half an hour ago. I didn't know you were involved though."
Ben nodded, glumly. "Well, I am. If you hadn't noticed, Lucas isn't really up to talking for himself at the moment." He shot an apologetic smile in her direction for his harsh tone. "Anyway, I'm just beat. There's so much going on in my head right now. I don't know what to feel anymore. I mean, we were all supposed to die, Cleo could have been involved with Wagner, and as for Olafsson...There are just too many questions, too many variables." He paused, staring at a box of cotton socks he had been planning to flog amongst the crew. Ben didn't even feel like this was his room anymore. The old wheeler-dealing Benjamin Krieg was long gone. He couldn't imagine being able to trade with people anymore, offer exclusive prices on complete junk, spend hours negotiating with underhand crooks for a bit of extra cash. It was all alien now.
Katie tried to cheer him up. "Everyone feels that way sometimes, Ben. But I can promise you one thing, it will stop. It will all come to an end sooner or later and everything will get back to normal, no matter how unbelievable it might seem now."
"I wish I could believe that."
Katie nudged his shoulder with her own, "Why don't you get some sleep?" Ben made no effort to move. "Come on, I'll tuck you in. I'll even grab a hot chocolate from the mess if you want." He grumbled and she laughed, swinging his legs up onto the bed and taking off his shoes for him. Ben lay his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. Sheer bliss. Nothing beat a good feather pillow. Barely had Katie made her way over to the door before she heard the cadence of a snore emanating from the bed. Deciding to snag a hot chocolate for herself instead, she pulled the door gently closed behind her.