"Dark Secret"

Diena Taylor

Sequel: Well, here it is: The continuation of Jumper. Remember that one? Well, this one, obviously, has to do with suicide too - so those who are uncomfortable with that particular topic, just skip right over this whole thing.

Disclaimer: As much as I would LOVE to, I don't own Lucas. Or Tony. Or Tim. :( Such is the way of the world, however. I can't own fun things like Lucas or Tony or Tim. They belong to the People With Money.

Rating: I'd rate this PG-13/R because of content.

Dark Secret
Diena Taylor

"So, hi. Wow, what a weird thing to write, seeing as how this is the last thing I'm ever going to have to write ever again. I guess I feel like I should be saying something significant because of it, but you know what? I can't think of anything that could possibly be of any meaning to anyone. And, well, I guess I don't want this to sound all rehearsed and just… stupid, because I don't want it to be, you know, not me. Because it's *me* who's doing this, not somebody "who writes like a professional novelist or anything.

"You're going to want a reason, aren't you? When you find my body? Well, yeah, because that's what everybody always asks when it comes to suicide. "Why did they do it?" And yes, I said suicide. God, it's such a harsh word when you actually get right down to it and write it - in reference to yourself. Creepy, kind of.

"So anyway, why would Lucas Wolenczak, perfect-at-everything boy wonder Lucas Wolenczak, kill himself? The answer, friends and neighbors, is painfully obvious: the world has gone mad, and I'm the only sane one left. Or is it the other way around? In any case, it feels like everything has
turned against me. I mean, more so than they were before. It's hard to explain… It's like you're drowning, in a really dark lake, and the harder you kick, the further down you go and it seems like you'll never get to the surface - where the light is. "That's poetic. That's pathetic."

"The point of this - and there is one - is to say goodbye. I'm really sorry about doing this, but… well, if you were me, you'd understand. But be glad you're not me. I really love all of you very much - you've meant so much to me over the years. But now the time has come for me to spread my wings and fly. And maybe, just maybe, I'll have a chance at true happiness.

"Much love,
Lucas"
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Lucas Wolenczak scowled and tore the note into small pieces, throwing them into the small wastebasket next to the desk. He sighed and sat down on the hotel bed, staring at his reflection in the mirror across from him. The person staring back at him was barely recognizable, and Lucas had trouble accepting that this was "Ensign Wolenczak," not Lucas, who he saw in the mirror.

It had been odd, he thought, to read his own suicide note. He was glad, however, that he had gotten back to the room before his friends did. If they had found the note before he had gotten an opportunity to destroy it, there would be a lot of unwanted questions, and Lucas would much prefer to keep his little trek to the roof of the hotel as quiet as possible. Which meant, keeping it to himself.

"No, Tony, you didn't tell me," Tim O'Neill said, opening the door to the hotel room. "It would have been nice if you had told me, but you didn't." Lucas looked up slightly at the sound of his friends' return. Now was the time to keep cool, stay calm, act normal. Whatever "normal" was, of course.
"Hey Lucas," Tim said, nearly slamming the door in Tony's face. "Be very glad you chose to sleep in. You would not believe Tony's taste in culture."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "I live with it," he replied. "I know exactly how raunchy Tony's tastes can run." Okay, so far, so good. This was a topic he could handle without thinking too hard about anything.

"Some people just don't appreciate great art," Tony commented, flopping down on the bed beside Lucas. "So how was your morning, Luke?" Lucas' heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to keep breathing. Nothing was going to make him 'fess up to the fact he hadn't really slept late as they both thought.

"Don't call me Luke," he said automatically. "My morning was fine. The breakfast here is good." There, just don't say anything else, he told himself.

"They don't serve breakfast here," Tim told Lucas pointedly. Lucas closed his eyes, trying not to panic. "Are you okay?" Gently, the voice of concern, as Tim usually was.

Lucas nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. Right. I meant the place down the street. Sorry." God, why was he apologizing? "I guess I should still be asleep. My brain is fried." Not entirely a lie, either.

"Okay," Tim said, seeming to accept the excuse. He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of fried brains, we're due back in about an hour and I need to run some systems cross-checks. " Lucas almost sighed in relief. At least on the seaQuest, he'd feel somewhat safe from himself. There was too much to do to let him think about much else, wasn't there?

"Yeah - me too," he agreed, standing and grabbing his duffle bag from the floor beside his bed. He never bothered unpacking during his hotel stays - they were usually too short to be worth the hassle. Plus, he hadn't quite planned on coming back from this particular stay. Tim and Lucas glanced at Tony, who shrugged.

"What the hell, may as well check out early," he said. "I gotta talk to Hudson anyway." Lucas felt a slight twinge at the mention of Hudson, but he brushed it aside. No, he would not - could not - think about it anymore. It couldn't happen.

Tony grabbed what few possessions he had brought with him, and together, they walked from the room, Lucas slamming the door shut behind him.