seaQuest er ekki minn.
Ice cream! Lots of ice cream for all my reviewers: Crimson Amber, hepatica, PhoenixTears80, ano (x2!), Teresa, sara, pari106 and kas.
OK, a leetle bit of bad language in this one. And it's short too. Don't all hit me at once...
Ghosts
Chapter 6
Lucas sighed as he rested his head against the metal wall of the moon pool. The floor was cold and hard, but there was no point going back to bed. Even if he wasn't trying to stay away for O'Neill's sake, he wouldn't have been able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Robert's face the last time he had seen it, the fear in his expression. During the day he was able to lose himself in the tasks set for him by the captain and Commander Hitchcock, to become nothing more than an extension of the data stream, and most nights he was able to concentrate on the vocorder. But tonight, Darwin was nowhere to be found, and the programming of the language base could not continue without him. And so Lucas found himself alone with his thoughts in the dimly lit moon pool.
He slumped down slightly, still leaning back against the wall, and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly he heard a splash and a quiet cackle, and he sighed with relief: Darwin was back. Opening his eyes again, he started to stand up but suddenly froze. Darwin was indeed back, but he was not alone: a familiar jump-suited figure was kneeling by the pool, rubbing the dolphin's melon. Lucas hardly dared breathe; and suddenly the man turned to look at him and smiled, stretching out his hand.
"Come on, Lucas," he said, "haven't you ever seen a dolphin before?"
Slowly, as if in a dream, Lucas stood and walked over to the pool. "They said you were dead," he said, his voice sounding strange in his ears.
The other man laughed. "Do I look dead to you? You need a holiday. We should go somewhere together."
Lucas smiled. "I'd like that," he said in a soft voice.
Suddenly Robert's face twisted in fear and pain. "It hurts, Lucas," he gasped, and fell to the floor. Lucas was on his knees beside him in a second, staring, horror-stricken, as his friend grimaced and clutched his stomach. "Make it stop," the young man moaned.
"I don't know how," Lucas whispered, helplessly. Blood began to seep through Robert's fingers. His eyes were filled with terror.
"But you're my friend," he said, and his voice was filled with betrayal. "You're my friend, Lucas. You have to help me."
Lucas stared in horror as the young man's eyes grew dim. "Don't go, Robert," he cried, and suddenly found himself sitting sharply upright next to the wall of the moon pool. The lights were dim once more, and neither Darwin nor Robert Bridger were anywhere to be seen. Lucas put a hand up to his face; his cheeks were wet. For a moment he covered his eyes, leaning forwards, and breathed deeply, trying to press down the bubble that seemed to be swelling inside him. Then he stood up and strode out of the moon pool.
Dr. Kristin Westphalen was suddenly awake and tense. Everything was quiet, and the room was dark, but she was sure she had heard a noise. Normally she was quite a difficult person to startle, but lately, living in a glorified sardine tin on the front line of a world war, she found herself more and more unsettled by noises in the night. There! There it was again. She breathed out heavily for a moment and tried to quieten her beating heart as she realised that the loud knocking was coming from her cabin door. Then she went to open it.
She didn't know who she had been expecting, but it was certainly not who she saw. Lucas stood there, breathing hard as if he had been running, his skin almost translucent. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes immediately, as well as his unusually agitated manner; but his eyes were what arrested her attention: they were blazing with anger, and the strength of emotion contained there was enough to make her step back in alarm.
"Are you ill?" she asked, but Lucas brushed past her without answering and began to pace frantically around the room, shaking his head and opening and closing his mouth as if trying to speak, though he made no sound.
"What's wrong?" Westphalen asked, worried now. She had never seen the boy behave like this before – he was normally so calm and controlled. Too controlled, she had always thought. It wasn't healthy for one so young to be so intent on hiding their emotions. But they certainly weren't hidden now. Lucas had turned to face her across the room, fists clenched, still breathing heavily, and the force of his anger hit her like a wave. She was suddenly afraid, and then ashamed of herself for being so. For a moment they stood like that, frozen in tableau, the doctor hardly daring to breathe. Then Lucas turned away, and the spell was broken.
Westphalen crossed the room, concern and confusion welling up inside her. "Lucas," she said gently, touching him on the shoulder. "What's wrong?"
For a moment the boy simply stood there, head bowed, seeming to be struggling with something inside himself. Then he lifted his head, though he did not turn.
"Everything's wrong," he said, calmly.
Westphalen didn't know whether she was relieved or even more worried by Lucas' apparent regaining of control. "Tell me about it," she said, still speaking gently but now with a note of command in her voice. This was obviously something that needed dealing with right now.
For a moment there was silence, and the doctor noticed that Lucas' shoulders were beginning to tremble. She wondered if he was crying. Then suddenly he whirled to face her and she stepped back again, seeing that he was shaking in rage, not sorrow.
"He should never have been in this goddamn war!" the boy spat out, and it seemed that that one exclamation was enough to unleash the torrent of words that were bound up within him. "He wasn't meant to be a soldier! It was all so pointless! Who the hell do they think they are? They sit up there in their big houses and they think that people are just numbers, that one is the same as nothing. They think they can send innocent people to their deaths just to achieve their own goddamn dreams of power. And they glorify this fucking bloodbath to suit their own purposes. And he bought into it! He believed them! And look where that loyalty got him – they never even recovered the body, for Christ's sake! It's somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, and that's where it's going to stay. Forever." Lucas spun round again, burying his head in his hands. "It's all so fucking pointless," he said in a broken voice.
Westphalen felt tears welling up inside of her, but not for Robert: she had already cried herself dry for that poor young man. These tears were for the lost and lonely boy before her, old before his time, who had seen too much in his short life, who had watched his best friend die and been powerless to prevent it. She put her hand on his shoulder again and gently turned him round. He lifted his face from his hands, and looked at her, and the despair and loneliness that she saw on that normally impassive face made her heart ache. Without speaking, she pulled him towards her, folding him in her arms, and hugged him tightly. For a moment, he was tense and rigid in her embrace, but then suddenly he collapsed bonelessly against her, and his shoulders began to shudder, with grief this time, as he wept until she thought her heart would break.
Ice cream! Lots of ice cream for all my reviewers: Crimson Amber, hepatica, PhoenixTears80, ano (x2!), Teresa, sara, pari106 and kas.
OK, a leetle bit of bad language in this one. And it's short too. Don't all hit me at once...
Ghosts
Chapter 6
Lucas sighed as he rested his head against the metal wall of the moon pool. The floor was cold and hard, but there was no point going back to bed. Even if he wasn't trying to stay away for O'Neill's sake, he wouldn't have been able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Robert's face the last time he had seen it, the fear in his expression. During the day he was able to lose himself in the tasks set for him by the captain and Commander Hitchcock, to become nothing more than an extension of the data stream, and most nights he was able to concentrate on the vocorder. But tonight, Darwin was nowhere to be found, and the programming of the language base could not continue without him. And so Lucas found himself alone with his thoughts in the dimly lit moon pool.
He slumped down slightly, still leaning back against the wall, and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly he heard a splash and a quiet cackle, and he sighed with relief: Darwin was back. Opening his eyes again, he started to stand up but suddenly froze. Darwin was indeed back, but he was not alone: a familiar jump-suited figure was kneeling by the pool, rubbing the dolphin's melon. Lucas hardly dared breathe; and suddenly the man turned to look at him and smiled, stretching out his hand.
"Come on, Lucas," he said, "haven't you ever seen a dolphin before?"
Slowly, as if in a dream, Lucas stood and walked over to the pool. "They said you were dead," he said, his voice sounding strange in his ears.
The other man laughed. "Do I look dead to you? You need a holiday. We should go somewhere together."
Lucas smiled. "I'd like that," he said in a soft voice.
Suddenly Robert's face twisted in fear and pain. "It hurts, Lucas," he gasped, and fell to the floor. Lucas was on his knees beside him in a second, staring, horror-stricken, as his friend grimaced and clutched his stomach. "Make it stop," the young man moaned.
"I don't know how," Lucas whispered, helplessly. Blood began to seep through Robert's fingers. His eyes were filled with terror.
"But you're my friend," he said, and his voice was filled with betrayal. "You're my friend, Lucas. You have to help me."
Lucas stared in horror as the young man's eyes grew dim. "Don't go, Robert," he cried, and suddenly found himself sitting sharply upright next to the wall of the moon pool. The lights were dim once more, and neither Darwin nor Robert Bridger were anywhere to be seen. Lucas put a hand up to his face; his cheeks were wet. For a moment he covered his eyes, leaning forwards, and breathed deeply, trying to press down the bubble that seemed to be swelling inside him. Then he stood up and strode out of the moon pool.
Dr. Kristin Westphalen was suddenly awake and tense. Everything was quiet, and the room was dark, but she was sure she had heard a noise. Normally she was quite a difficult person to startle, but lately, living in a glorified sardine tin on the front line of a world war, she found herself more and more unsettled by noises in the night. There! There it was again. She breathed out heavily for a moment and tried to quieten her beating heart as she realised that the loud knocking was coming from her cabin door. Then she went to open it.
She didn't know who she had been expecting, but it was certainly not who she saw. Lucas stood there, breathing hard as if he had been running, his skin almost translucent. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes immediately, as well as his unusually agitated manner; but his eyes were what arrested her attention: they were blazing with anger, and the strength of emotion contained there was enough to make her step back in alarm.
"Are you ill?" she asked, but Lucas brushed past her without answering and began to pace frantically around the room, shaking his head and opening and closing his mouth as if trying to speak, though he made no sound.
"What's wrong?" Westphalen asked, worried now. She had never seen the boy behave like this before – he was normally so calm and controlled. Too controlled, she had always thought. It wasn't healthy for one so young to be so intent on hiding their emotions. But they certainly weren't hidden now. Lucas had turned to face her across the room, fists clenched, still breathing heavily, and the force of his anger hit her like a wave. She was suddenly afraid, and then ashamed of herself for being so. For a moment they stood like that, frozen in tableau, the doctor hardly daring to breathe. Then Lucas turned away, and the spell was broken.
Westphalen crossed the room, concern and confusion welling up inside her. "Lucas," she said gently, touching him on the shoulder. "What's wrong?"
For a moment the boy simply stood there, head bowed, seeming to be struggling with something inside himself. Then he lifted his head, though he did not turn.
"Everything's wrong," he said, calmly.
Westphalen didn't know whether she was relieved or even more worried by Lucas' apparent regaining of control. "Tell me about it," she said, still speaking gently but now with a note of command in her voice. This was obviously something that needed dealing with right now.
For a moment there was silence, and the doctor noticed that Lucas' shoulders were beginning to tremble. She wondered if he was crying. Then suddenly he whirled to face her and she stepped back again, seeing that he was shaking in rage, not sorrow.
"He should never have been in this goddamn war!" the boy spat out, and it seemed that that one exclamation was enough to unleash the torrent of words that were bound up within him. "He wasn't meant to be a soldier! It was all so pointless! Who the hell do they think they are? They sit up there in their big houses and they think that people are just numbers, that one is the same as nothing. They think they can send innocent people to their deaths just to achieve their own goddamn dreams of power. And they glorify this fucking bloodbath to suit their own purposes. And he bought into it! He believed them! And look where that loyalty got him – they never even recovered the body, for Christ's sake! It's somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, and that's where it's going to stay. Forever." Lucas spun round again, burying his head in his hands. "It's all so fucking pointless," he said in a broken voice.
Westphalen felt tears welling up inside of her, but not for Robert: she had already cried herself dry for that poor young man. These tears were for the lost and lonely boy before her, old before his time, who had seen too much in his short life, who had watched his best friend die and been powerless to prevent it. She put her hand on his shoulder again and gently turned him round. He lifted his face from his hands, and looked at her, and the despair and loneliness that she saw on that normally impassive face made her heart ache. Without speaking, she pulled him towards her, folding him in her arms, and hugged him tightly. For a moment, he was tense and rigid in her embrace, but then suddenly he collapsed bonelessly against her, and his shoulders began to shudder, with grief this time, as he wept until she thought her heart would break.