I said that I'd post mine up if Refur did. So here goes :)
Re-Mix Title: Right Here
Author: Teresa
Summary: Nathan Bridger says goodbye
Rating: NC-17/General
Fandom: SeaQuest
Warnings: deathfic
Title and Author of Original Story:Strangely at Peace/Come What May by Diena Taylor
Check out the original story athttp:dot www dot regulators - lair dot com slash peace dot html (obviously you'll need to take out the dot and slash and put an actual dot and slash in and close the spaces)
He finally managed to say what he needed to say. Shame he couldn't say it while I was still alive.
Nathan Bridger was never one to share his feelings by talking about them openly, at least not when it involved telling people directly that he cared about them. Mind you, neither was I, so not everything was said that we had wanted to say during our father/son relationship.
And right now his boy was dying as a result of war.
Again.
He was angry at the enlistment because he was afraid. But Nathan didn't know how to explain to an eighteen year old that he was afraid he'd succumb to the same fate as his son.
The second time around it was Section Seven. It was a recruitment mission in Chaodai territory, and they'd needed someone to crack Chaodai code. There was only one person in the UEO would could do that, and they didn't care what happened to that one person.
I could only be glad that Nathan wasn't there when the SeaQuest finally liberated the prison. But I knew he knew. Someone that close to you isn't tortured like that, without you feeling - knowing - something.
The cold hard floor slamming into the bruised right cheek is not a welcome change from the vice-like grip of the Choadai soldiers as they drop their young prisoner to the ground.
Still conscious, not like the last set of the beatings. But barely able to move.
The cell is damp, dark and cold. A single bare foot scraps across the dirty floor; possibly in a weak attempt to writhe in agony.
This is someone that someone loves.
The physical injuries were devastating, but so were the infections. The combination was fatal. He was devastated when the doctor read off the litany of illness and injury and told him there was no chance of survival.
I know he couldn't see me, but I was standing right there as Nathan collapsed to the ground.
This time he wanted to say goodbye. I knew he felt he owed it to me. But it was more like he owed it to himself. I was fine. I was at peace. But he wasn't.
I don't know if he heard me whisper to him, telling him to go into the hospital. I could see that he was hesitant. He didn't want the memory to be like this. But I could also see that it was something he needed to do. It was something for the both of us.
I would have let him know that I was right there with him when he entered the room, but it wouldn't have helped.
The body tells him the story of what was done to it - a story that I know he doesn't want to know, but can see anyway. The complexion is sallow, yellowed, from the blunt-force damage done to the kidneys.
The vicious blows are repeated, again and again. The prisoner can barely grunt anymore. And the heavy stick keeps on coming.
The body was still, surrounded by machines, the bed tilted at an angel to hold the respirator and feeding tube in place.
Nathan reached out to touch the right cheek, where a thick bandage, caked with dry blood covered the forehead.
Blood splatters over the floor. A large amount, it could have come from anywhere. There is vicious movement right nearby – another beating.
An IV was attached, held in place by surgical tape, and a blood-oxygen monitor blinked on one of the fingers.
Nathan swallowed painfully as he looked at the tube, draining bloody liquid out of the abdomen and into a container near the floor.
The beefy soldier slams the prisoner in the stomach while they still hang with their arms chained above their head. A weakened cry echoes from the dark prison.
Nathan could hear liquid moving in the lungs.
And he could hear the words of the doctor, "Without the respirator, he would be completely unable to breathe."
He pulled a chair up next to the bed and grasped the cold hand in his own. "Heya, Kiddo."
I stood right there. Right by his side.
Nathan sighed, not knowing where to start, "I don't know what to say," He almost rasped, "I wish I could say something that would make this all go away and make you well again, but there isn't anything that can do that now."
"There's so much I owe to you, Kiddo. I never would have stayed on the SeaQuest if not for you…"
"..I guess they didn't count on things changing," the wise child tells him gently.
Nathan had lost faith in the military, but not in human nature, and he had always been able to learn something from everyone. Even some punk kid.
The relationship had developed as a result of a mutual need – a lonely young man looking for somewhere to fit in, and a grieving father and husband. Who would have known that combination would save each other in so many ways?
"I wish your parents had seen what a wonderful gift they were abandoning when they sent you to the SeaQuest. I know now I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, because if they had been decent parents, I never would have met you."
"You have no idea how hard it is to be seventeen and not have a family," the attractive Doctor tells him emphatically.
"But that doesn't change how very wrong they were," Nathan continued.
"He'll call you back."
He realises how right the teenager is. His father makes no time for him.
"What a Dad.."
"Granted, Lucas, sometimes it was difficult to keep my cool with you. You could be difficult, obstinate, and you could cause more trouble than I ever thought possible..."
The memories of a better time where pleasant and typically amusing, but at the same time, they were crushingly painful. But I could see that Nathan was allowing himself to feel the pain along with the smile it brought him.
"But I loved you just the same, Kiddo," he whispered, "I was always proud of you. I'm proud of you now."
There was silence for a while as Nathan tried not to let the imaginary sounds physical torture assault him.
And I stood right beside him.
"I can't tell you…"
"But I'm you're friend."
Nathan pushed back tears, "You deserve so much more than what you got out of life, Lucas. But…"
I knew he was going to say, 'I can't give you those things now, Lucas', but the pain in his chest stopped him.
I stood there giving him the only strength I could. He gripped onto the reason the relationship had developed so strongly in the first place.
"You can't imagine how important it is for me to have you here. Now I want you to know how important it is for me to be here for you."
The relationship that had developed as a result of a mutual need continued – until the world changed.
"I'm sorry I left you, Kiddo," Nathan continued.
"No, Lucas, it's time.."
"I knew the SeaQuest was your home, and where you belonged. But I shouldn't have just left you like that without talking to you first. I thought that if I didn't have to look you in the eyes and talk to you about it, it would be easier to leave."
I had known that it was the circumstances that had changed. But there was something in that relationship that still existed – that always would exist. That bond, combined with Nathan Bridger's reluctance to share his feelings openly, was probably what had caused so much pain later on.
"And, I missed you," the Captain admits.
"I missed you too."
"I knew that with the UEO in this war, your talents would be needed," Nathan considered it selfish to want his friend all to himself, and made an effort to admit where he was needed elsewhere.
"Your talents and your compassion."
For a split second I was sure he felt me there beside him because he held himself together as the battered body reminded him of where they had ended up.
"I didn't think Oliver would make you enlist. I knew he was tough, but I didn't realise the extent until I saw you later."
"I never pictured you as career navy, Lucas," Bridger says angrily, walking away.
I understood. He was frustrated with the fact someone he cared about so much couldn't grasp how controlling the military could be, and was almost pleased to become a part of the military that he'd never trusted.
"I couldn't believe you were arguing with me about something we both once saw eye-to-eye on. I understand now that you did what you had to do, even though it did risk lives. I posed a threat, and you had to make a choice. I respect that, and in a way I suppose you were right."
Nathan gripped a cold hand tightly, as though it would re-build any broken bridges.
"I know you lost faith in me after Banaba Island, and I don't blame you for that, either."
"I know this is difficult for you, Lucas," Bridger concedes, bringing things out into the open.
"Difficult," the young man doesn't agree with his choice of words, "When I first signed on I figured you'd never speak to me again, and now you're playing cloak and dagger with Section Seven. How do you expect me to act?"
The older man is not in the mood for a deep and meaningful, "I expect you to act like a soldier. Ensign."
"Tell you the truth, Kiddo, I haven't been worthy of your faith for a while. I should have supported your choice to stay and enlist, especially since I didn't give you any other options."
"As an officer, you've done the world a great service, and as much as I may have not wanted to admit it, you do makea good soldier."
His admission was difficult, like all admissions are. But, I knew, his boy was only a good soldier because of the same qualities that made a brilliant scientist, and a great friend.
"I just... didn't want you to end up like Robert."
He didn't know, but I reached out to him in that moment.
"A lot of good that worry did me."
"I can't imagine my life without you, Lucas. But now I have to face the reality that I will have to live life without you soon. I don't want it to be like this, and I never dreamed it would end this way."
Nathan Bridger couldn't handle the pain of acknowledging his boy's confidence, wisdom, compassion, brilliance and strength along side the viciousness he could see over the broken patient before him.
"I love you, Kiddo. I don't know if you can hear me or understand what I'm saying, but I love you."
So he finally managed to say it. Funny how it seems easier for people to put feelings into words when they're dressed in black. Maybe we should dress like we're going to a funeral more often. Maybe more often we should hug the people we love like we're saying goodbye.
I always knew how he felt, because I felt the same way. It wasn't like I had ever opened up either.
I watched him stand and lean over, kissing the forehead and brushing back a stray lock of blonde hair.
"Goodbye, Lucas," he said softly, his voice choking on tears.
He'd been sleeping for some time now, since he'd gotten back from the hospital. I stood at the foot of his bed, watching him as he slept.
"Dad."
Nathan opened his eyes and sat up in bed, glancing at the bedside clock, grimacing when he realised it was nearly two in the morning. Then he looked right at me.
"Robert?" he asked with a gasping breath.
I couldn't help but smile as I nodded, "It's me, Dad," I said, "I just wanted you to know I love you, okay?"
I knew we'd never had the chance to say a proper goodbye. But Lucas, in living and dying, could give him what I couldn't – strength, and closure.
Nathan nodded numbly, not understanding why his son - his dead son - was standing casually in his locked hotel room, "Okay," he replied slowly, trying to make sense of it all.
"You'll understand, Dad," I told him, "There's someone here who wants to tell you something."
I stepped aside, letting Lucas step forward, "Hi, Captain," the teen said shyly, pushing his ever-unruly blond hair out of his dazzling blue eyes, "I just... well, thanks. For everything. I just wanted to... tell you that. And I figured I at least owed you a proper goodbye," Lucas walked over to Nathan and wrapped his arms around the older man, "I'll miss you, Captain," Lucas said softly into Nathan's ear. "Goodbye."
Nathan jolted awake as the incessant beeping of the vid-link invaded his sleep. "Yeah?" he asked, slapping the link on.
It was Oliver Hudson, looking very much worse for wear, and very much downcast and disheartened.
It was silent, but we could see the other man speaking to Dad over the vidlink. Dad shut his eyes painfully as the other man spoke.
There was a pause before Nathan shook his head and spoke briefly before cutting the transmission and sitting back in bed.
It was three am, and he seemed to be wide awake.
Both of us beside him, Lucas reached his hand out to touch his shoulder.
"I miss you too, Kiddo," he whispered, strangely at peace.
"You're going to find him, Captain."
Bridger smiles optimistically, "Maybe he'll find me. Either way," he looks at the boy sitting across from him, "I'd like very much for him to meet you."
Bridger reaches out to hold the boy's shoulder, "I think you two would get along just fine."
Lucas smiles gently, "I'd like that."
