As always, thanks to Diena. I hope that your net connection is working better soon, hon. hugs Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, you guys are the best. For anyone who's concerned, don't worry. I am going to finish this story. I already have it planned out to chapter ten, and it may go a few beyond that as well. It may take me a while to get each chapter finished, but I'm not quitting unless you guys stop caring what happens next, and tell me so.
Friday, May 2, 9:40 P.M.
An alley in downtown San Francisco
A week. He had been 'dead' for a whole week. He was homeless, had no friends, and no companionship except for the other homeless people with whom he shared his alley at times. Not that they were really companionship for the most part. Mostly, they were drunk. Not that it hadn't crossed his mind on occasion to get completely toasted, but it was hard enough to eat, let alone anything else. He doubted very strongly that he could manage to retain tangibility when tipsy.
It had actually been quite simple, when he had finally figured it out. It was all in his mind. If he wasn't consciously thinking about touching something, or whether or not he could do so, then he did. It was just that not thinking about it was ridiculously hard, particularly for someone like Lucas. His mind would invariably wander to the question of why it was that he could only touch something when he wasn't thinking about his intangibility, and that was it. More than once, he had dropped his dinner as a result of just his thoughts.
At least he didn't go completely hungry most nights, and the need to eat was certainly making him learn control more quickly than he normally would have. With a shudder, he remembered the words that he had been told so many times as a child, 'Hunger is a great teacher, Lucas'. It was still as true as it had been when he was five.
It also seemed as though his power was becoming easier to control as the days passed, which was the greatest gift he could imagine at the time. If he had to be a homeless mutant, at least the mutant part was getting easier as he went. It was true that he went to sleep hungry most nights, but at least he didn't wake up lying inside of buildings anymore.
That had been the reminder, when he had finally figured it out. That second day in the alley, after having escaped the library, he had been leaning against a wall when he fell asleep. Thinking back on it, and the other times he had managed to touch things, he had realized that it was all a matter of whether or not he had been paying attention to what he had been doing.
Trying not to think about something when it was all you wanted to think about was rather like meditation, which, of course, Lucas had never been good at. He found that distracting himself worked sometimes, so he had taken to reciting the periodic table in his head while trying to eat. Everything he had tried had failed at some point; it was exceedingly difficult to re-train seventeen years of thinking. He kept reminding himself that he should be happy he hadn't been older when his powers had manifested. He had never heard of mutant powers being discovered in adults, but if it were to happen to anyone in the world, it would probably have been him.
Immediately after his initial realization, a newfound measure of control had started to manifest in the most unexpected of ways: in his sleep. It didn't really make any sense to him, particularly considering that he had fallen through the building upon falling asleep that day in the alley, but he wasn't going to question it. The fact that he wasn't going to give himself away in his sleep was a great relief to his already over-stressed mind. Every morning, he woke up pressed against the nearest building, presumably for warmth, and immediately upon attaining complete consciousness, fell through the wall.
Living in an alley wasn't nearly as bad as he had thought it would be, really. Most of the other homeless people were either friendly, or ignored him entirely. Quite a few had suggested that he head over to the local soup kitchen for a good meal, advice that Lucas had politely thanked them for, then declined. The last thing he needed was to go into a place like that and be recognized. One guy had given him an old blanket, something for which Lucas had been very grateful. It was spring, but the San Francisco nights were still quite cold, especially when Lucas didn't have so much as a light jacket.
The same man would drop by once in a while to share a particularly impressive dinner; at least impressive by Lucas' newfound 'homeless and lucky to be eating at all' standards. Lucas didn't know where the guy got the decidedly fresh looking burgers, but thought it best not to ask, for fear of ruining his meal. The guy would sit and eat with him, distracting Lucas with talk of random subjects, from San Francisco, to hockey, to modern politics. He couldn't have known that his rambling was helping to keep Lucas from losing hold of his food, but Lucas couldn't have been more grateful regardless. He wasn't sure why the man was helping him, but he was hesitant to question any show of human kindness, for fear that it would be revoked.
Soon after gaining the tenuous grasp on his power, Lucas had made another fascinating discovery, though it was one that he had basically dismissed at the time.
The first morning he woke up pressed against the wall, he thought it was Wednesday although he was quickly losing track of that sort of thing, he had realized that there was a San Francisco policeman walking down the alley. Terrified of being arrested for vagrancy and then discovered for who and what he was, Lucas had frozen in place, barely breathing, utterly silent, and unable to move.
The policeman had walked right by where he was, looked directly at him, and obviously seeing nothing. The policeman had wandered off muttering that he was certain he had seen a boy in the alley, and Lucas had let out his held breath.
Then he had wondered how the man hadn't spotted him. He had been in plain sight.
It had only been a few moments later that the homeless man he had befriended, Dave, had come down the alley. Carrying a bag of fast food that smelled positively heavenly to Lucas, he called out. "Boy? You down here?" He still called Lucas 'Boy', never even having asked for a name, much to Lucas' relief. He probably assumed that Lucas was a runaway or something. In a way, he supposed he was.
Standing up, Lucas had cautiously walked over to his friend, who had looked right through him as if he weren't there. Hoping fervently that he hadn't simply ceased to exist entirely, Lucas responded. "Dave?"
Dave had jumped a bit, and suddenly his eyes had focused on Lucas. Raising an eyebrow in a rather strange manner, he said, "Where'd you pick that up, Boy?" It occurred to Lucas later that Dave hadn't been terribly surprised by the fact that Lucas was a mutant, but he decided that being a homeless man in a huge city like San Francisco, Dave had probably seen far stranger things than disappearing boys.
When Lucas had expressed ignorance about what had happened, and concern about the situation, Dave had just shrugged. "Doesn't seem real important. You came back, after all." And that had been that. Lucas was convinced that the man was completely unfazeable.
That night, Lucas had gone out to the local park and found the public bathrooms. Using the mirrors there, he tried to figure out what he had done, and how he had done it. After a few hours with no success whatsoever, he had given up. Obviously, he had the ability to become invisible, but with his other problems, it just didn't seem important enough to concentrate on. He didn't think he could die of being invisible, after all.
So there he was, Friday night, lying in an alley under an old tattered blanket. One week from the day his life had been changed forever. All that he had in the world was Dave, some homeless guy who probably felt sorry for him; and if that wasn't pathetic, he didn't know what was. He supposed that it could be worse, though he didn't really care to think on that, for fear that it would happen.
As the wind picked up, he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. Slowly drifting off to sleep, he tried to think on happier times, but that only made everything seem worse. This was all he had to look forward to, a cold dark alley, an old tattered blanket, and some memories of a time when he had been happy.
Eight floors above Lucas, the building superintendent was working late into the night, fixing the kitchen sink in an empty apartment. The man who was considering renting it was supposed to be there in the morning, so everything had to be in working order by then. The apartment had been empty for far too long, and the super was determined to finally lease it.
It was nearly midnight by the time he finished his work, and slid from underneath the sink. Lighting a cigarette, he flexed his tired back and leaned against the counter. Packing up his tools while he smoked, he was grateful to finally be finished. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted.
He was so exhausted that, looking forward to getting home to his wife and warm bed, he forgot to stomp out his cigarette butt where he dropped it on the threadbare carpet on the landing. By the time it had started to smolder, he was already asleep in his bed on the first floor.
Friday, May 2, 11:25 P.M.
SeaQuest DSV, The Moon Pool
Ben and Nathan had both been right, Dr. Kristin Westphalen decided to herself the day after speaking to them about each other. Of all the people on the ship, those two seemed to be the only ones utterly unable to handle the situation.
It was so strange to her, seeing two strong, intelligent men slowly fall apart. Psychology was by no means her specialty, but it was easy enough to see that they both felt guilty, and it was tearing them to pieces. Nathan stayed in his quarters every moment he wasn't on duty, and seemed unwilling to engage in personal conversations with anyone, even her. Krieg had lost weight and was hardly speaking at all, let alone going back to his usual antics.
It was easy enough to understand Nathan's point of view. He had already lost so many people of importance to him, and losing Lucas was like losing another son. If she knew him, and she thought she did, he was probably considering retiring again. It seemed to be Nathan's instinct whenever anything unfortunate happened, to retreat into himself, and run away from everything and everyone. Well, she would be damned if she was going to let him run away from her.
Krieg, she was more worried about. His actions weren't those of a man who was feeling normal grief at the death of a close friend, even a close friend that he'd felt responsible for. His actions were nothing like the Ben Krieg that everyone knew and… remembered. To her, his actions seemed to be those of a man who desperately needed help. He may not have even realized it himself, but she suspected that he was passively suicidal. He didn't act like a man who cared if he lived or died, and on Benjamin Krieg, that was the most unhealthy thing that she could think of. He was always the one with something good to say about every situation, the one who could see the upside of every bad thing that happened. A miserable Ben Krieg was one of the most depressing things that Kristin could think of.
The lieutenant's situation was something that she had to discuss in depth with the captain. Commander Ford had already suggested that counseling might be in order for a few members of the crew, and she thought it was the best idea ever to come from the ship's executive officer. For Ford, he was being unusually sensitive about the situation, and she was grateful for that. She wasn't sure why Chief Ortiz needed counseling, he was one of the few crew members that she hadn't thought was acting strangely, but she trusted Jonathan Ford's assessment of his crew. She just had to get Nathan's permission to send for a psychologist.
Which was why she was headed for the moon pool, because Commander Ford had told her that he was there. Drowning his sorrows in the ocean, as usual. Some men went drinking; Nathan Bridger went swimming.
Walking into the room, she overheard the tail end of a sentence that confirmed her suspicions about what Nathan was thinking. "-miss the island, don't you boy?"
Bridger was patting Darwin, though the look in his eyes told her that he was thousands of miles away. In the Caribbean, to be exact. As seemed to always be the case, Darwin was the sensible one between the two of them. His response to Bridger made Kristin smile. "Darwin like island. SeaQuest home now."
Interrupting before Nathan could say anything further, Kristin put forth her own opinion. "Quite right, Darwin. The two of you belong here now; seaQuest is home."
They both looked over at her, Nathan in surprise, and Darwin… Well, who could ever say what Darwin was thinking? She could have sworn that the dolphin smiled at her then, and started to swim around the tank. "Bridger and Doctor come play?"
Frowning, Nathan looked back at Darwin. "Maybe later. I think that the doctor and I need to talk right now."
"Give fish?" Darwin asked, swimming back up to the edge of the tank.
Chuckling, Nathan went over to get his friend some fish. "If I keep feeding you, you're going to get fat and lazy, you know."
Darwin's response was almost enough to make Kristin laugh out loud. "Bridger not hunt. Bridger fat and lazy?"
Frowning at his friend again, Nathan didn't respond to him. Instead, he looked back over at Kristin and tried to drop both of the previous conversations. "So, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Doctor?"
For some reason, his dodge bothered her more than if he had just come out and told her that he was thinking of running away. "First, I think I'd like to say this: If you think you're just going to run away from this, Nathan Bridger, you had just better think again." Giving him a harsh look, she continued on with what she had intended to speak to him about. "And I came down here to talk about Lt. Krieg. I think you're right to be concerned about him, and we need to do something about it."
He nonchalantly dropped fish to Darwin for a few seconds before responding. "You have something in mind, I assume?"
"Frankly, I'm at a loss for what to do, Nathan. I think that the only thing we can do is try to get someone here who knows how to deal with this sort of thing." Her voice was still a bit strained, mostly by her annoyance with his continued dodge on the subject of himself. Petting Darwin, she tried to calm her frayed nerves. Getting angry with him was not going to help the conversation.
"What about Doctor Levin? He's good at that sort of thing, isn't he?" Nathan continued to not look at her, but she decided that it didn't matter, as long as they were trying to resolve something. He obviously wasn't willing to address the problems he was having, but at least she could help someone.
She thought out her answer carefully, not wanting to speak ill of Doctor Levin, but honestly not believing that the man could handle the situation by himself. "He's a good therapist, certainly. But I don't think that he has either the time or the training to deal with something this serious. We're talking about most of the crew needing help, Nathan, and some of them needing quite a bit of it."
"You want to ask the UEO for someone, then?" Nathan asked absent-mindedly, reaching out to pet Darwin while pointedly not looking at her.
"That is what I had in mind, yes."
She was more than startled when he reached over the dolphin and took her hand in his. "I didn't intend to run from you, Kristin. I just don't know what to do anymore. Every time I come out of hiding, bad things happen to people that I care about. Half of me is afraid that you're next."
Astounded at his sudden and unexpected honesty, she could only stare at him for a moment, openmouthed. Then nodding, she responded, "I suppose I understand that Nathan, but nothing is going to happen to me. And even if it did, it wouldn't have anything to do with you."
Looking back to Darwin, he shrugged. "Technically, I know that. It's just impossible to convince myself that it's completely true." Pausing for just a second, he went back to the original topic of conversation. "Do you really think that Krieg is that bad?"
"You've seen him, Nathan. He looks awful, and he doesn't seem to care about anything. He's so lifeless, I can hardly stand to look at him." She was angry with herself for even thinking it, but it was true. An unhappy Ben Krieg was not a person that anyone wanted to be around.
"I suppose you're right. I just hate to ask for a therapist, it makes the crew feel like I don't have any faith in them."
Even though he had been the one to point it out, Kristin wondered if he had any idea just how serious the situation with Ben was. "Nathan, I'm not worried that he's unhappy or might be unproductive. I'm worried that he's going to try to kill himself."
Looking sharply up at her, he was obviously shocked at the idea. "Suicide? But..."
"Nathan, you've seen the way he's been acting; quiet, somber, almost vacant. It's not the least bit like him, and it's unhealthy at the very least. He feels as though he got Lucas killed, and the guilt is eating at him." She tried as hard as she could to make him understand, although she knew that he was dubious. What she couldn't figure out was why he didn't believe it. He felt guilty enough himself; he should be the most likely person to understand why someone else would go to such lengths.
"But I'm sure that he'll be fine as soon as we find Lucas, Kristin." His voice was almost a whisper, but she could feel the emotion in it. He was willing her to agree with him; to give him any hope at all that Lucas was still alive. She wished with all her heart that she could lie to him, just to make him feel better, just for a moment. But it wouldn't have been doing him any favors to perpetuate a fantasy.
Her voice cracked when she tried to speak, but she had to do it. She had to make him face reality. "We're not going to find Lucas, Nathan. You know that. Lucas isn't alive." It was odd, really. Somehow, saying it still didn't feel right to her. And if she couldn't even bring herself to say 'dead', how was she going to convince Nathan of it?
Taking a deep breath, Nathan turned to her. There was pain in his eyes, and it tortured her to know that she had put it there. Opening his mouth to speak, he hesitated for a few seconds as though trying to remember what he wanted to say.
Before he could utter a syllable, he was cut off by the computerized voice of Darwin. "Lucas lives."