Disclaimer: see first chapter.

Fuzzy feelings and assorted gum drops for Helen 88216, KatKnits00, Diena, sara, Teresa, dolphinology, pari106, Karel, Kiddo and kas. Also thanks to everyone who took the time to review Two's Company. You guys are very cool.

OK, I finished this a day early, so here you go :). Hopefully be back with more next Thursday...

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Cabin Fever

Chapter 7

Westphalen sat down slowly on a stool in med-bay, staring at a point on the floor some distance in front of her. "I don't understand," she whispered.

Bridger rubbed his eyes. He knew how she felt. It wasn't even noon yet, but already it seemed like years since he had been awoken by Jensen. By the messenger of death. It was hard to imagine that two days before they had been cruising through the ocean towards the base with no concept of what awaited them there. Not for the first time, Bridger wished selfishly that some other submarine had been assigned this particular mission.

"I was talking to Levin yesterday," Westphalen said. "He was telling me about his experiments with Darwin. And now..." She looked up, her eyes dry, but filled with confusion. "Why is this happening?" she asked.

That question again. It always came down to that, in the end. It wasn't like they weren't used to death: Bridger had lost Robert and Carol, and seen many men fall in the line of duty; Westphalen had lost a brother and plenty of patients during her long career. But all they had learned from experience was that it never got any easier, and that there were no words that could wipe it all away. Stepping forward, Bridger enfolded the doctor in a gentle embrace, and felt her go limp for a moment in his arms. Then she pulled back, standing up and wiping imaginary tears from her cheeks.

"I've got to get on," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "There's a great deal of material to analyse from all the... bodies..." she trailed off, and turned away.

"Are you sure?" Bridger asked. "I know you and Levin were close. No-one would blame you if you took some time off."

Westphalen shook her head vehemently. "The work will be good for me." She took a step away from him, then looked back over her shoulder. "Did you speak to Lucas?"

Bridger nodded. "I sent him back to his room with Krieg."

"How did he seem?" asked the doctor anxiously.

Bridger paused for a moment, thinking. "Just... dazed," he said. "I'm going to go over there after I've spoken to Noyce."

"I'd like to examine him," Westphalen said.

"You'll have to go to his room," Bridger replied. "I'm confining him to quarters, and posting a guard on the door. This time was too close for comfort."

Westphalen hesitated. "I'm not sure that's the best approach, Nathan," she said carefully. "He may view it as some kind of punishment."

Bridger shook his head. "To be honest, right now my first priority is to make sure the killer doesn't come anywhere near him. I'll worry about his bruised feelings later."

Westphalen sighed. "Whatever you say. I'll drop in on him later today."

Bridger nodded. "Well, if you need anything at all, let me know," he said. Westphalen didn't answer, though: she didn't seem to be listening. Bridger closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his face with his hands, then turned and headed for the Ward Room to call Noyce.

------

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

Lucas continued to stare at his stockinged feet. "No," he said dully. "What did you say?"

Krieg suppressed a sigh. "Don't you have any other shoes?" he asked, as gently as he could. After they'd finished questioning him, the investigators had taken Lucas' shoes as evidence, and now Krieg stood in the bomb-site that served as the boy's quarters, searching for a replacement pair.

"No," Lucas replied.

Krieg spotted something in the corner, half-hidden under a pile of computer components and discarded clothing. "What about these?" he asked, triumphantly holding up a pair of scuffed and dirty tennis shoes.

Lucas' eyes flicked up briefly to focus on the shoes, then flicked back down to his feet again. "Oh. I guess I do have other shoes."

Krieg sat down next to him on the bed, feeling anxiety rise within him. He should be doing something, something to help the kid. But he couldn't think of anything that would. Some morale officer you turned out to be. But when he'd signed up, he hadn't really had multiple murders in mind.

He did the only practical thing he could think of – he started to pull one of the shoes onto Lucas' right foot. "Jeez, Lucas, your feet are freezing," he complained.

"Yeah, well, they took my shoes," Lucas explained, pointing at his feet. "There was blood on them," he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Krieg stared at him for a moment. "I know," he said gently. "I know that Lucas. I was there, remember?"

Lucas looked up at him for a moment, and there was a brief flicker in his eyes. Then he looked down again. "Oh yeah. I remember now."

Krieg felt useless. It wasn't a feeling he was used to; normally whatever the situation, his mind was always working, trying to imagine ways out of it. He remembered his own feeling of shock when he had found out that Robert had been killed, the way he had been numb for weeks. People had tried to help him then, well-meaning people, but he had just wanted to scream at them. He pulled the other shoe onto Lucas' left foot, and then just put an arm round his shoulders and held him tightly.

------

The security officer on duty stood stiffly to attention as Bridger arrived at the door to Lucas' quarters. "At ease," the captain said. "Anything to report?"

"No, sir," the officer replied.

Bridger nodded and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Puzzled, he knocked again, but no sound came from the room beyond. He tried the handle, but it was locked. Suddenly anxious, he turned to the security officer. "Can you open this door for me?"

The officer nodded, pulling out a code key. He swiped the key through the reader, and the door unlocked. Bridger stepped through quickly, a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach; but Lucas was sitting on the bed, looking up at him in surprise.

Bridger frowned. "Didn't you hear me knocking?"

Lucas looked confused. "No, sir." He paused for a moment, looking as if he was trying to remember something. "I'm sorry, I guess I was... thinking."

Bridger sighed and pulled up a stool, carefully removing the half-eaten plate of food from it before sitting down. "How're you doing, Lucas? Do you have everything you need?"

Lucas nodded. "Krieg went to get me something to eat. I'm OK. A bit spaced-out, is all." He looked around the little room. "How long you planning on keeping me locked up in here?"

"Until this whole thing blows over," Bridger said apologetically. "I'm sorry, Lucas, but it's for your own good."

Lucas nodded calmly. "Well, I guess I'll be off the ship soon anyway, and you won't have to worry about me any more."

"Off the ship?" Bridger frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lucas looked at him blandly. "My trip with Nick, remember?"

Bridger closed his eyes. He remembered now. Lucas' shore leave had been arranged for months; he was planning to hang out with his friend Nick on the Pacific island the latter called home when he wasn't at Node 3. It had been all Lucas could talk about recently. Up until yesterday, that was.

"I'm sorry Lucas, but UEO orders are that no-one is to leave the ship until the murders are solved." He had known that this wouldn't go over well, but he wasn't prepared for the sudden icy anger in Lucas' stare.

"What?" the boy said incredulously. "You mean you're going to make me stay here?" His voice began to rise. "I can't believe you're doing this to me!"

Bridger held up his hands in a placatory gesture. "Lucas, if it was up to me I'd let you go – God knows, the last thing I want is for you to be stuck on this ship with a killer loose out there. But Noyce was very clear that no-one was to leave."

Lucas jumped to his feet. "Don't give me that crap!" he yelled. "You and Westphalen cooked this up to keep an eye on me! You've been trying to find a way to control my life ever since I came on board!"

Bridger was on his feet now, too. "Don't use that tone of voice with me," he said evenly.

Lucas glared at him. "Oh, so now you're pulling that 'Commanding Officer' act on me, right?"

Bridger felt his blood begin to boil. "No, Lucas, I'm pulling the 'I'm your guardian and you'll do as I say' act. I can't believe you're acting this selfishly! How can you be so worried about your little holiday? Do I need to remind you that two people are dead?"

Lucas looked as if Bridger had slapped him. His mouth set suddenly in a hard line. "Get out," he said quietly between clenched teeth.

Bridger shook his head. "This conversation isn't finished yet, Lucas."

"Get out of my room!" Lucas yelled, loud enough to make Bridger jump. "You can make me stay here, but I damn well get to choose who'll be here with me!"

Bridger stared at him for a moment, assessing his options. Then, without a word, he turned and left, ignoring the security officer's stare as he stormed down the corridor.

------

"Calm down, Nathan," Westphalen said sternly. Bridger stopped pacing and stared at her.

"I honestly don't know what to think," he said, shaking his head.

The doctor sighed, her stern expression melting into sadness. "From what you've told me, it sounds like you both overreacted," she said, sounding tired. "It's understandable that Lucas wouldn't want to stay here, given how he's been affected by this. And it's understandable that he'd be angry, considering you basically told him that he didn't care enough that his friend was dead."

Bridger sat down heavily on a stool and put his head in his hands. "Oh God, do you think that's what he thought I meant?"

Westphalen stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder and wondering how men could be so unaware of how their words affected others. "Blame isn't going to help anyone," she said quietly. "We all have enough on our plates already without dealing with that too. Go and talk to him later, when you've both calmed down. I'm sure he won't hold it against you."

Bridger looked up. "You're right," he said quietly, and was about to continue when Marks appeared at the laboratory door.

"Any news on the DNA samples yet, doctor?" she asked crisply.

Westphalen glanced at an array of scientific apparatus on a table in the corner. "I'm expecting the results in a few minutes, actually," she said.

"DNA?" Bridger asked, looking up.

Marks nodded. "There were skin cells under Monaghan's fingernails," she said, coming all the way into the room. "She didn't go down without a fight." Westphalen looked slightly ill and turned away.

"Do you have anything to report about your findings so far?" Bridger asked, back in business-like mode again.

"Well, we can say that both bodies were dispatched in the same way," Marks said cheerfully. "A single knife thrust between the ribs. We have yet to determine if the same weapon was used each time, but we're assuming it was. The killer seems to have a good knowledge of human anatomy – he knew exactly where to strike to cause death with the minimum amount of effort."

"Well that doesn't narrow it down much," said Bridger. "All the military personnel and most of the scientists aboard this ship have training in anatomy."

Marks nodded thoughtfully. "It does tell us something, though," she said. "It's strange behaviour from a serial killer. The bodies were not interfered with, nothing was taken from them, nothing twisted... It's almost what we'd expect from a professional assassin. Whoever the killer is, it seems he just wanted these people dead as quickly as possible."

Bridger shuddered. "That doesn't make sense. Why would anyone assassinate two scientists on a submarine?"

Marks shook her head. "So far, we've drawn a blank as to motive. Monaghan had a relationship with someone in Engineering, but we've detected nothing suspicious about his behaviour. Both crew members seem to have been well-liked, and we can't find anything that connects the two crimes." She paused for a moment. "I'd like to interview Wolenczak again," she said.

Westphalen stood up. "I'd rather you didn't," she said firmly. "He's having a difficult time coping as it is."

"I understand that," Marks replied, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Nonetheless, that young man was the first at the scene of the second murder. I like to be thorough in my investigations. I find it helps."

Her sarcastic tone was not lost on Westphalen, who bristled, drawing herself up to her full height. "According to your own calculations, Levin had been dead for an hour or more before Lucas found him," she said coldly. "I can't see how he can provide you with any more information than he already has."

Marks' eyebrow raised a little higher, and she turned, addressing Bridger now. "I was told I would have full cooperation in this investigation, captain," she said, and there was a marked absence of warmth in her voice.

Westphalen's expression grew tight. "Badgering a child who has just been through Hell with pointless questions is hardly-"

Something in the corner beeped. Westphalen, interrupted in mid-flow, turned to see what it was, then hurried over. "The DNA results," she said, beginning to type something into the computer. Bridger and Marks strode over to watch over her shoulders. Photographs of seaQuest crew members began to flash rapidly on the screen as the computer searched for a matching DNA profile. And then... it stopped. Westphalen blinked.

"Hoyle, security," she said.

Bridger, peering over her shoulder at the face on the screen, frowned as he tried to work out where he'd seen it recently. Then, a sick feeling began to grow in his stomach. He remembered the man's face, watching him with an odd look as he strode away. Standing in the corridor outside a door. Lucas' door.

"Are you all right, Nathan?" Westphalen asked, looking at him with surprise as he turned abruptly and started for the door.

But Bridger wasn't listening. He grabbed his PAL. "Krieg, are you with Lucas?" he asked urgently.

"No, sir, I'm in my quarters," the lieutenant's voice came back. "Lucas told me to leave him alone."

Bridger broke into a run, ignoring Westphalen's voice behind him. "Security to Mammal Engineering," he yelled into his PAL, pounding down the metal stairs to Lucas' floor, thanking God it wasn't too far. He heard running footsteps behind him, and shouts, but he didn't turn. He ran along the corridor, turning a bend and seeing to his horror while still 200 yards away that Lucas' door was open and no-one was on duty outside it. "Lucas!" he yelled, sprinting forwards. But then he heard a sound which made his heart freeze within him.

It was a gunshot.