"Rose Gardens and Bell Jars"
by Diena Taylor
Tell me if you think this is worth continuing. After reading "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden" and "The Bell Jar", I found the little ELF in me couldn't stop putting Lucas in similar situations. So we're going to see if it will become a decent story or what.
Warning: This is, I think, a rather vivid account of a severe mental disorder. There _is_ a logical reason it happened to Lucas.... but I'm not telling yet.<eg>
"Rose Gardens and Bell Jars"
by Diena Taylor
The shuttle ride to the institute was completely silent. Neither of the adults could think of anything to say, and their young charge had long since lasped into a deep sleep. Any talk, Nathan Bridger supposed, would seem... inappropriate. But he wanted to talk - very badly. He wanted to ask Lucas what was wrong, he wanted to ask Kristin Westphalen why they couldn't treat the boy on the seaQuest, he wanted to assure Lucas that everything would be all right in the end.
Nathan didn't understand what had gone wrong. Seemingly overnight, Lucas' supply of constant energy had been sapped; his normal routine disrupted by, what Kristin had said were, visual and auditory hallucinations. And the worst part, Nathan recalled, was watching Lucas slowly and methodically harm himself, all the while talking to the voices in his head in disjointed, odd sentences.
Kristin had been at a loss as to what had happened, as had the seaQuest's psychologist Joshua Levin. Lucas, of course, had been less than forthcoming in his answers to their countless questions. He spoke cryptically, and without much thought as to how his words might come across to other people.
Finally, when Kristin and Joshua had run all their resources dry, they had made the decision. Kristin had, and still had, reservations about the decision. After all, a move like this might confuse and anger Lucas even more. When she had told Lucas of the choice to bring him to a mental health facility for testing, he surprised her by not arguing, not resisting, not doing or saying much of anything. Kristin was beginning to wonder if he even understood her.
Nathan glanced back at the young man curled up on one of the benches in the back of the shuttle, and wondered if what he was doing was really for the best. He had a feeling he'd never know.
CHAPTER ONE
The hands reached out to him, pulled at his clothes, his hair, his skin. The Whispers taunted him, made their disgust with him known. [[You foolish child,]] they hissed, [[Could you not even find strength to fight Them?]] The Whispers continued speaking in their cold, contemptuous manner, making it perfectly clear that they were NOT pleased with the recent turn of events.
Lucas Wolenczak knew it was no use to try and answer the Whispers. At least not while they had put him to sleep. In sleep was where he was most vulnerable to their curses, their hatred of him. He had tried not sleeping, thinking that perhaps in waking they could not reach him. He was wrong. They reached him, even awake, and their pull was strong. They always seemed to tell the truth - they always knew what was best for him, despite their coldness towards him. That was why he never questioned them when they told him to do things. He simply complied and made sure he thanked them for their wisdom. Even when it hurt. Though lately the pain had not been there as much, as strong, as before. It seemed that he was losing his sense of feeling, but he didn't miss it. In fact, he barely remembered a time when it had been present.
-----
"Lucas?" Kristin gently touched the sleeping boy on the shoulder and shook him slightly. In a way, she was glad he had slept the entire way, because that meant she hadn't had to try and make small talk with him, she hadn't had to try and keep him amused, all the while wondering what it was that was going on inside his head. "Lucas, we're here..."
Lucas said nothing, simply sat up and looked at her with his big blue eyes. Kristin bit her lip when she saw the emptiness in those eyes that had once sparkled with youthful energy. But no more. Lucas stood up and walked towards the hatch of the shuttle, where Nathan was standing. "Sometimes knots untie themselves. Sometimes not," Lucas offered. Nathan stared at him and nodded, unable to say anything.
The hatch opened, and with Kristin on one side of him, and Nathan on the other, Lucas walked into the white, sterile hallway.
CHAPTER TWO
Nathan felt terrible for leaving right away. He didn't have much choice in the matter, but he still felt terrible. It seemed to him that he and Kristin should have stayed until Lucas got settled, or at least until Lucas got enough of a grip on the situation to say goodbye.
Lucas hadn't said anything, hadn't even looked at them. He had, in fact, struck up a perfectly intelligable conversation with the wall the moment they reached the reception desk. The receptionist, quite used to things like that, and stranger occurances, simply smiled at Kristin and Nathan. "Don't worry, Sir," she said pleasantly. "Your son is in good hands."
Neither he nor Kristin made any move to correct the woman's mistake.
----------
Lucas had almost been hoping for a room of his own. Instead, he was led down a long corridor, past heavy steel doors with wire mesh in the small windows, and into one of the rooms. He knew the steel was to keep the Whispers in the room with him, so they couldn't have any chance to leave. It wasn't as though they would leave, even if given the opportunity, but these people obviously didn't want to take any chances.
The room was small - perhaps slightly larger than his room on the seaQuest, with two metal-frame beds on either wall. There was a barred window close to the ceiling in the center of the room. On one of the beds, sat a man much older than Lucas, reading a book upside-down.
The guard smiled slightly and gave Lucas a friendly pat on the shoulder. Lucas, having been taught by the Whispers not to allow people to touch him, pulled away. The guard shrugged and closed the heavy door. Lucas heard - or thought he heard - the key in the lock.
Then it hit him. He was trapped. Possibly forever, and he'd never get out, and the Whispers would torment him forever. No, there had to be a way out. There was always a way out. He climbed up on the unoccupied bed and tried to peer out the window. All he saw was a brick wall. [[No way out,]] the Whispers told him. [[Just give up.]] "No!" Lucas exclaimed, jumping to the floor. He slammed his fist against one of the walls, and sucked in his break in pain.
The man on the bed continued reading, looking up only when Lucas had finally fallen asleep on the floor.
CHAPTER THREE
The common room of B ward was calmer than Lucas had expected. Too many movies tainting his view of places like this, he supposed. But it still had the atmosphere of something getting ready to explode at any moment. People in cages tended to do that, Lucas thought. [[You're in a cage now,]] the Whispers told him. "No more than I was before," Lucas replied out loud.[[This time you can't escape.]] "I could if I wanted to." [[Are you that foolish?]] "I suppose I am."
Lucas staked himself out a spot on the metal framed couch, and curled himself up into the corner of the couch, not even noticing the old man sitting on the other end. [[Just make yourself as small as possible. Maybe then they'll all forget you're here and you can sneak out in the night. Yeah, right. You're such an fool.]] "Why do you do this to me?" Lucas asked.
"I demand a little respect," the old man said, turning to him. Lucas looked up in confusion. He wasn't quite sure if the man was talking to him or not. [[Of course he was,]] the Whispers said. [[You respect no one. And you should.]] "Children should not speak unless spoken to," the man continued. [[See,]] the Whispers said.
"Oh," Lucas said, biting his lower lip. "I'm sorry." [[Real good,]] the Whispers taunted. [[Way to be assertive.]] Lucas closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wishing it would all just go away. In the background, somebody laughed loudly at the sitcom re-runs that were playing on the vid in the corner.
-----
Ben Krieg was just getting ready to run a vid-disk by Lucas' room when he suddenly remembered that Lucas wasn't around. The realization sent a stab of cold through Ben's heart. He had a feeling he was the only one of the senior crew who knew that Lucas wasn't really visiting his parents.
In fact, he was certain he was the only one outside of Dr. Westphalen and Captain Bridger who knew the truth. Mostly because he had come upon the information by accident.
He had just been going about his own business, bringing some supplies into the med-bay, when he heard Dr. Westphalen talking to Bridger in a low, hushed voice behind one of the curtains surrounding the beds. "I talked to Dr. Burke at Oak Hill, and she said that there were some openings... and in light of what I told her, the sooner we get him> there, the better."
Ben hadn't stayed for any more of the conversation, but he didn't need to. Given Lucas' recent behavior, and putting that together with what he heard, it wasn't hard to figure out where Lucas had gone. He understood that Westphalen and Bridger were trying to keep the situation as low-key as possible, so he kept his mouth shut. Or at least he tried.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lucas fidgited in his chair, trying to keep himself from being distracted by the Whispers. Dr. Burke had made it clear that the group meetings were important in therapy, but Lucas didn't see how it would help. Fifteen minutes into the session, he had begun to get listless, and the old man from the couch wouldn't stop glaring at him. [[He's gonna get you, you know,]] the Whispers informed Lucas. [[See that look in his eyes? He's gonna get you, and good.]] Lucas bit his lip and shook his head, determined not to say anything.
"Lucas, are you with us?" Dr. Burke asked gently. She spoke to all of her patients in the same way: a soft, gentle tone one would use when talking to a small child. While some of the patients found it comforting, Lucas found it downright insulting. He had a genius IQ! He didn't need to be spoken to like a child! [[But you _are_ a child,]] the Whispers reminded him. [[Don't try to convince yourself you're not.]] Lucas shook his head again, this time more violently.
"Mmm hmm," he replied once he had finished. "Sorry..." It seemed like all he was doing here was apologizing for things he had no control over. [[You very well should be apologizing. Apologize just for being alive.]] But he couldn't help the fact he was born, could he? And once he had realized he could fix the situation... well, that hadn't worked out very well either. Kristin and Nathan had caught on, and now here he was. [[Can't even kill yourself right,]] the Whispers taunted. Lucas bit his lip again and forced himself to stay still and focused on the group.
-------
Prison was a bore. He had read all the books in the diminutive library, and none of the vids that played in the common room interested him. He couldn't very well write, not with gaurds hovering over his shoulder at all times, and he was denied computer access. "Ah the life of a bio-terrorist," he sighed to himself.
He just hoped the little present he had left on the ship that had sent him there was working its magic. From looking at the crew profiles, and by talking to the charming Kristin Westphalen (a shame about her brother, really), he chose his target... very carefully. Some might call it the weakest link theory. Rubin Zeller called it fun.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nathan Bridger spun around once in his desk chair, then stopped, leaning his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. "Have you heard anything?" he asked Kristin, who was seated in one of the armchairs against a wall of Nathan's office. Nathan was worried - very worried - and he wasn't hiding it well. It had been against his better judgement in the first place: Bringing Lucas to a psychiatric institute! But, then, Kristin convinced him that perhaps it was the best thing... for everyone. Lucas seemed to be in incredible pain, and his behaviour was making the crew nervous. Part of Nathan felt that maybe Lucas would take the commitment the wrong way - think that maybe Nathan had used it as an excuse to get rid of the boy. That seemed to be Lucas' biggest fear, and Nathan hoped to whatever kind of God there was that Lucas wasn't angry.
Kristin sighed patiently, and picked a leaf off the potted plant sitting next to her chair. She held it between her fingers and twirled it absently as she spoke. "It's only been two days, Nathan," she told him. "Try not to worry." Kristin supposed it might be best if she would take her own advice.
Nothing hurt her more than to see Lucas in the state he had been in when he had left, and she was concerned that sending him off the seaQuest would isolate him further. But, she told herself, Oak Hill was much better suited for... well, whatever was wrong with Lucas.... than the seaQuest was, and the doctors there could give him far more attention and support than she could, seeing as how she also had a crew of two-hundred and several science labs that needed her constant attention.
"I reviewed Lucas' files again," she continued. "And with one exception, there was no mention of any history of mental illness, let alone anything like what we're dealing with."
"What _are_ we dealing with?" Nathan asked. That had been the foremost question on his mind since the symptoms began - he had just never seemed to have the opportunity, or the courage, to ask.
Kristin stopped twirling the leaf and put her hands in her lap. She opened her mouth to begin, then paused. She visibly seemed to collect her thoughts, and then she began. "I've seen symptoms like this in schizophrenia," she said. "Sometimes it's hard to tell, though. But from what I've seen, if I
had to give it a name..." She trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Then, "But I don't know. That's one of the reasons Oak Hill is the best place. They will be able to tell what's wrong better than we ever could."
Nathan nodded, digesting the information. But there was one more thing that was bothering him about the whole deal.... "What did you mean when you said there was an 'exception' in his files?" What kind of exception would there be?
Kristin walked to Nathan's computer and brought up Lucas' medical files on the main screen in front of the desk. "I saw it when I went through the intial file check when he first came aboard, and I did discuss it with him before you came and took over," she said. She pointed at an entry, made about two months before Lucas arrived on the seaQuest.
"Patient admitted with multiple lacerations about the wrists and arms - not a definitive suicide attempt - alledgedly a failed science experiment. Patient has no history of depression or mental illness, however, suggest evaluation and sedatives for anxiety."
Kristin looked to Nathan for his reaction. He was staring at the screen as though he was having a hard time believing what he was seeing. "I did talk to him about it," Kristin said, snapping Nathan out of his reverie. "He told me he was working in his lab, went to reach a glass container down from a shelf, and it shattered. He even showed me the lab logs and security video." She paused, waiting for Nathan's response. He just stared at her, so she continued. "I had my doubts, of course - but there were the logs and the video. At the time, I wasn't aware of Lucas'... talents... with computer imagry. And since his parents also obviously went to great lengths to convince everyone - including doctors - that it was accidental, they may have also... overlooked... any previous epsiodes Lucas might have had. That _doesn't_ mean, however, that he's had them before. Schizophrenia does sometimes develop during the teenage years, but is more likely if the person is predisposed to mental illness."
Nathan leaned back in his chair, sighing, trying to process everything he had just been told. He had a feeling there was a _lot_ he didn't know about Lucas Wolenczak - and he wasn't sure how much he wanted to know.
CHAPTER SIX
Lucas pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at the white-painted brick wall. The paint was peeling in some places, and the patches of red in the sea of white paint was beginning to get on Lucas' nerves. [[It's like that to bother you,]] the Whispers informed him. "Yeah, I know," Lucas replied.
His roommate, Mark, glanced up from his book. "What do you know?" he asked. Lucas looked over, his breath catching in his throat. He still found himself jumpy around Mark. He wasn't used to sharing a room with anybody, let alone someone like Mark. The other man was a self-commit, and could go home whenever he pleased, but chose to stay. Lucas thought that, were _he_ given
a choice, the _last_ place he would be was Oak Hill. Mark had a... unique... view of the world, which he never failed to share with Lucas. In the two days Lucas had been at Oak Hill, Mark had decided that Lucas was his new best friend. Lucas didn't mind so much - Mark was nice, and it was refreshing to have someone coherant to talk to... Though Lucas himself was not always so coherant... Mark was, perhaps, the one thing that Lucas felt he could get used to. [[He's just going to hurt you,]] the Whispers said. [[Just like everyone else. Just watch. Just wait. You'll see.]]
"I know the meaning of life," Lucas replied, not missing a beat. "It's 42."
Mark laughed. Lucas was glad to hear it. The sound seemed to help him keep his hold on whatever reality happened to be. [[Reality is not what you think,]] the Whispers told him. [[It will always change, will never be what you think. And will never turn out the way you want.]] Well, the Whispers were always right, Lucas reflected with a resigned sigh. Especially when they spoke about life.
-------
Ben idly poked at the "chicken" on his tray, looking up as Tim O'Neill and Miguel Ortiz made their way over to Ben's table. "Hiya," Miguel said, sitting down. "Can we sit here?" he asked as an afterthought. Ben shrugged.
"Kinda quiet around here without Lucas," Tim commented as he sat down. "O'Reilly has no one to complain about." There had been something odd about Lucas' departure, Tim thought, but he kept his suspiscion to himself. After all, it wasn't his place to pry. If Lucas' parents wanted him at home for a while, that was none of Tim's business.
"Yeah..." Ben replied softly, distractedly. Tim and Miguel glanced at each other. Ben Krieg, gossiping, scheming, loud Ben Krieg, never acted like this. Maybe it was tied to Lucas' odd behavior before he left. Maybe Ben knew something the rest of them didn't.
"You okay?" Miguel asked, taking a drink of his coffee. Ugh. Well, with a little practice it might possibly be coffee. But probably not.
Ben nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah," he said. "I just... well, I've got a lot on my mind."
Again, Tim and Miguel exchanged looks. "Like what?" Tim asked incredulously.
"Women," Miguel supplied. "And which pick-up lines he hasn't used yet. Tough stuff - lotta deep thinking involved," he chuckled.
Ben scowled at his friends. There was silence for a moment as he appeared to think something over. "Okay, guys, I'm gonna tell you something, but you gotta promise not to tell anyone else, okay?" Tim and Miguel nodded, eager to share in the latest gossip. Ben glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was around to overhear. "Lucas isn't really with his parents," he said softly, so softly that Tim and Miguel had to lean in closer to hear. "I heard Bridger and Doc Westphalen talking about somewhere called Oak Hill... and doctors. And we all know how Lucas has been acting..." he trailed off, letting the other men draw their own conclusions.
"You mean... you think..." Tim sputtered, a bit confused. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Ben's news - whether to brush it off as an attempt from Ben to be the center of attention, or if what he was saying had some merit to it.
"Nah," Miguel said, shaking his head. "They were probably talking about someone else."
"But _Lucas_ is the one that's gone," Ben pointed out. "_Lucas_ is the one who was acting so weird." Tim had to admit, Ben did have a point. But that still didn't mean.... did it?
CHAPTER 7
Note: Risperdal is a real drug used for treatment of schizophrenia.
Lucas tugged at the hem of his blue, hospital-issue shirt, glancing around, looking at everything in the small office. The psychology books lining the walls, the two potted plants, the oak-wood desk with the green felt desk pad and neatly stacked file folders on either end, the leather armchair he was currently sitting in, and the desk chair of similiar make and style. He looked everywhere in the room, except at the woman seated in the desk chair across from him. He couldn't look at her. If he did, the Whispers had told him, she'd have complete control over his brain.
"Lucas..." Dr. Burke said gently, in that voice better suited for talking to kindergarteners, "I realize this is your first real session, and you're scared, but we have to discuss some things." Lucas bit his lip and stared at the floor. He did NOT want to discuss anything with anyone. He hadn't on the seaQuest, and he sure as hell didn't here. Dr. Burke leaned back in her chair, gazing at him. Lucas forced himself not to look back - kept his gaze floorward.
"Now, your..." She paused, unsure of her wording. She didn't want to upset the young man even more, and she knew that this was probably a sensitive area. "Your... friends... have been worried about you. Do you know why?" She picked up her notebook, ready to record anything the teen might say. Burke knew that Lucas wasn't too eager to participate in the group sessions, and she had a feeling the one-on-one therapy would be a battle as well.
Lucas shrugged, not meeting her gaze. Burke noticed that she was the only thing in the room he had not focused on, and she made a note of it. It was a trait she saw often enough in her other patients, and it intrigued her. "They, ah, they think I'm... they think I'm... crazy or somethin'," Lucas murmured, after a long pause.
Burke nodded. She hadn't expected any answer at all, let alone one that would lend itself to more questioning. "Why would they think that?" she asked, even though she had his file right in front of her. She needed to hear the patients' perspective of the situation - which, a lot of times, was very different from reality.
Lucas shrugged again, still playing with the hem of his shirt, twisting it around in his fingers and seeming to focus all of his concentration on that one task. "Guess 'cause... I wasn't... right, or whatever... acting right... or not good 'nuff 'cause that's why...why would they be.... why wouldn't they be like... dad and everyone... where else could they put me.... didn't want me anymore or whatever..."
Burke raised her eyebrows, as she pieced together Lucas' disjointed sentences. From what she knew, Lucas had every reason to believe that was the truth. It made her angry that someone could do something that would make this young man feel so unwanted. But it was not her job to be angry or to place blame. It was her job to help Lucas sort through whatever issues were making it difficult for him to make a recovery. It was also her job to figure out what he would be recovering _from_. She could tell Lucas was beginning to get nervous, the way he was fidgiting in his seat, glancing around more frantically. She checked her watch, finding with some surprise,
that the half-hour she had schedualed was already nearly through. Normally, her sessions ran an hour, but for Lucas she felt she should work up to the full hour. He didn't seem as though he would open up more if he was forced to sit and talk for an extended period of time. Sometimes patience was a virtue in this profession.
"I'm sure they still want you," Burke said carefully. "They want you to get better so you can go home..." She wasn't sure if she had given the right wording to the sentence, but it seemed the best way to say it. Lucas just shrugged, and said nothing. "Now... what I'm going to do about medication..." She glanced at her chart, wishing now that she had re-thought the shorter sessions but unable to cancel her next appointment. "I think for starters we'll put you on Risperdal... two mgs ought to be good for starters... now, it'll make you pretty tired, so it's okay if you stay in your room some days... I'll tell the aides..." She stopped and looked up at the teen, who was still engrossed in his shirt hem. She had a feeling he hadn't heard a word she said.
----------
Darwin bored. Darwin want Lucas to Play. Lucas was not with pod. Bridger was with pod, played with Darwin. Bridger have to Work, so not play with Darwin same as Lucas.
Before Lucas left pod, told Darwin about Mind Voices. Mind Voices bad, tell Lucas wrong things. Darwin help Lucas not hear Mind Voices, but Lucas leave pod.
Bridger not know Darwin knows Mind Voices. Thinks no one knows where Lucas went when left pod. Darwin knows. Darwin not tell. Lucas told Darwin Mind Voices were a Secret. Lucas keeps Secrets from his pod. Darwin keeps Lucas Secrets.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Note: Some of the terminology is stolen from Ken Kesey's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden"
"C'mon," Mark said, sitting down beside Lucas on the common room couch. "It's fun. You can cheat." Lucas looked over at his friend. Mark seemed so eager to get Lucas into the mainstream of the ward, trying to involve him in the conversations and the games, introducing him to everyone in the ward. Lucas wasn't sure he liked all the attention Mark was showering on him, but he was glad, now, to have a friend.
B Ward was for the Acutes - those the hospital felt were still able to be salvaged. They were the ones who could still function on their own, but weren't quite well enough to face society. They were the ones most Chronic and many Disturbed came into the hospital as. Many were self-committed, and could stay on the ward for as long, or as short a time, as they pleased. Some, like Lucas, were there for as long as the hospital dictated. The age ranged from early twenties to the elderly, and Lucas was by far the youngest on the ward. There was tell of a Youth Ward, and none of the Acutes were quite sure why Lucas was among their ranks and not elsewhere.
Once Mark figured that out, he made it his mission to make sure Lucas was accepted as an equal. So now there he was, trying to pursuade Lucas to join him, Jim, Phil, Roger, and old Mr. Wentworth (the man from the other end of the couch) in a game of Monopoly. It was one of the few board games they had on the ward - and one of the favorites because it took a long time to
complete and passed a good deal of time. The worst thing about being on B Ward was how slow time seemed to pass - when it seemed to pass at all.
"C'mon," Mark said again, tugging on Lucas' sleeve. "Please?"
Lucas bit his lip - something that Mark noticed the teen did a lot - and seemed to think things over. Mark sort of felt sorry for Lucas - felt sorry for him because he was thrust into the adult Acute Ward and wasn't given the option of the Youth Ward, which Mark figured must be more comforting that _here_. Not that _here_ was a bad place, it just seemed like a kind of a strange place to send a teenager. "I guess so," Lucas said finally, standing up.
Mark grinned at him and stood as well, clapping his hands together. "Good!" he exclaimed. "It's going to be fun!" Mark was just glad that fun was something that was not frowned upon, like in some other wards. It made life more bearable.
CHAPTER NINE
Note: Italics are signified by _underscores_.
"_My_ son?" the blonde woman at the other end of the vidlink asked incredulously, raising one perfectly-shaped eyebrow. "My dear Dr. Westphalen, you must be mistaken. I highly doubt _Lucas_ would ever do such a thing. He's always so happy." Cynthia Holt's voice was sickeningly sweet - something that Kristin knew right away was an act. In addition to being sugary, her voice also held a note of superiority, a power behind it that was only amplified by her tailor-made suit, her perfectly manicured nails, her icy blue eyes that had indentified her immediately as Lucas' mother.
Kristin closed her eyes for a moment, gathering all the patience she absolutely could. "I understand your shock," she said carefully. She had a feeling Mrs. Holt was either unaware of her son's earlier... problems..., or she was in deep denial about the true problem. Kristin felt it her job to figure out exactly how much Cynthia was aware of when it came to her child. "And I assure you, everything in our power is being done to help him. However..." She paused slightly, unsure if where she was going was the right place. "As Lucas' primary health care provider, I must ask you some questions."
Cynthia nodded, almost distractedly, looking at her French-manicured fingernails. "Go ahead," she said, not looking Kristin in the eyes. That, Kristin felt, was the first indication that the other woman knew a bit more than she was letting on.
Kristin took another deep breath, and leaned back in her chair. "Have you... ever sensed Lucas was suicidal before he came to seaQuest? Any attempts, talk of it, things like that?" Perhaps not the best line of questioning, but it got her point across, and it got Cynthia's attention. Her head shot up and in a split-second, half a dozen emotions crossed her face. Before Kristin could comment, however, Cynthia had composed herself and her expression was the one of impersonal coldness she had answered the vidlink wearing.
"No, of course not," Cynthia said, her tone one of surprise and astonishment. A very good act, Kristin thought to herself. And all this time I wondered where Lucas picked up the techinique. "He's a very well-adjusted young man. Very happy." Kristin tried to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "My question," Cynthia continued, "Is why he would suddenly change so quickly. What goes on on that submarine anyway that would force an otherwise perfectly stable teenager to try and take his life."
Kristin bit her tongue to keep from uttering a sharp reply. She counted to ten and very carefully thought of her wording before she spoke again. "I assure you," she said slowly, "We are trying to get to the bottom of what happened. Which is why I called you. We thought you might be able to shed some light on the subject."
Anger flashed in Cynthia's blue eyes. "You thought wrong," she said sharply, the sweet tone of voice gone, without a trace. "There is nothing wrong with _my_ son. As far as I'm concerned, this is your problem. You people brought it on, you deal with it. And if this requires further discussion, I suggest you take it up with Lucas' father." A pause. "But good luck getting through." And she cut the connection.
"Charming lady," Kristin hissed under her breath.
--------------
An hour later, Kristin sighed and tapped her fingers on her desktop. She could not believe how long she was being kept on hold. She wondered how Wolenczak Industries kept any business at all, the way they kept people waiting. She realized that Lawrence Wolenczak was probably very busy, but, hell, this was about his son. If the main had one iota of compassion, he would answer the damn vidlink. Even the boy's self-centered mother had the decency to answer the vid when she found out the call was regarding her son. Just as she had that thought, the screen cleared and the image of a young, red-haired woman appeared. "Wolenczak Industries. Name please?" she said in a bored monotone.
Kristin took a breath, planning what she was going to say. The moment she opened her mouth, however, the plan flew out the window. "I'm... Dr. Kristin Westphalen... I must speak with Mr. Wolenczak." She hoped she sounded insistant enough.
The secretary looked up at Kristin, a look of pure contempt on her face. "_Doctor_ Wolenczak is taking no calls... unless you have an appointment." She regarded her computer screen. "Which you don't."
Once again, Kristin found herself having to count to ten to keep from exploding in rage. How could his parents - Lucas' own parents - be so involved in their own lives that they barely batted an eye when they were confronted with the fact their son was deeply troubled. "It's about Lucas."
A blank stare from the secretary. "Dr. Wolenczak's _son?_"
The secretary rolled her eyes and snapped her chewing gum. "The doctor is accepting no calls," she repeated. "Try again some other time." With a shrug and a _look_, the secretary turned the vidlink off.
Kristin sat back in her chair and wondered how someone like Lucas could have possibly been brought into the world by creatures like _them_.
CHAPTER TEN
Note: Beginning situation (the "hotel" lines) inspired by/stolen from the movie "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" However, from the line "You don't even own that property" on, the rest is mine.
"Hotel," Jim said, putting the red plastic piece on Boardwalk. Lucas sighed. Jim had been doing that for the entire game, and it was beginning to bother the teen. He was thankful Mark was including him in things like the games, but... Well, he supposed he wasn't any better than any of the other patients in the ward. He was just as crazy as the rest of them, and there was nothing he could do but go along with it.
"No," Lucas said, taking the hotel off the board. "You do not have a hotel there. You don't even _own_ that property." Jim grinned at Lucas and put the hotel right back where it was on the board. Lucas closed his eyes as if in pain, then laughed. [[How dare you find this amusing,]] the Whispers hissed. [[What right have you to laugh?]] "Every right in the world," Lucas replied, still laughing. "I can laugh at whatever I want!"
Jim and Mark looked at each other nervously. Phil shrank back in his chair, his eyes wide and frightened, while Roger joined Lucas in his laughter. Mr. Wentworth sat up straight in his seat, face set in a scowl. "How dare you," he said haughtily. "I demand some respect."
Lucas grinned, and stood on his chair. He held his hands up over his head and answered the Whispers' taunts in a loud, joy-filled voice. [[Stop it,]] the Whispers commanded. [[STOP it!]]. "No! No I won't stop because this is who I am and my life and if you don't like it you can...." Lucas never got to finish his threat, because two of the aides who had been watching grabbed either one of Lucas' arms and pulled him down off the chair. Lucas tried to pull away, but the aides were well-practiced in the arts of restraining their patients. While one held his arm tightly around Lucas' chest, the other took out a syringe of sedative and injected it into the teen's upper
thigh.
"Bring him to the shop?" the first aide - who's name tag identified him as Bob - asked the other. Mark sucked in his breath in terror. The _last_ time someone had been sent to the shop, they had come back as a Disturbed and had to be transferred to D Ward. He couldn't imagine that happening to Lucas - it couldn't happen to Lucas.
The other aide looked at Lucas, who was still struggling as hard as he could against the tranquilizer, then back at his partner. "Think he'll cause trouble otherwise?" he asked.
Bob pulled Lucas' head up by his hair, and stared into the teen's icy blue eyes, flashing in absolute fury. Mark covered his mouth in shock and horror asn Lucas reared his head back and spit on the aide. "Yes," Bob said, wiping saliva from his face. "This one's trouble. Take him to the shop."
Those words rang in Mark's ears, even after the aides had long since taken Lucas away.
-----------
Kristin sighed and leaned on her desk. "I _tried_ talking to his parents," she told Nathan. "And," she said, her voice dripping in sarcasm, "His mother is the _most_ pleasant person I've ever talked to. Her son is perfect, and how dare I try to tell her otherwise. His father wouldn't even answer the call himself." She leaned back in her chair and watched Nathan's face change
from worry to anger in little under a second.
"How _could_ they?" he demanded, slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair. "He's their _child_. How could they _not_ care?" He sighed and held his head in his hands, shaking it in frustration. "People like that should be neutered at birth."
Kristin allowed herself a small smile. "I heartily agree with you, but that doesn't solve our problem." She paused, considering her request once again. Yes, she would ask. She had to ask - had to find out what was wrong with Lucas. "I'd like your permission to, ah, use my position as Chief Medical Officer on the UEO's flagship to... obtain... Lucas' records from the hospital he was treated in before coming to seaQuest." There, she said it. That wasn't so hard, was it?
Nathan looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. "You want to pull rank on them?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly amused. Kristin pressed her lips together and nodded. Nathan laughed. "Go ahead," he said.
"Thank you," Kristin said. "I just hope that will help us get the infomation we need."
Nathan found the only thing he could do was nod.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Note: Oh yeah, by the way, Oak Hills isn't a real place. I made it up. However, other places in MA I may refer to are real, but used ficticiously.
"Yes, may I please speak with Doctor..." Kristin glanced at the open file in front of her to make sure she was getting the name right. "Doctor Silver? This is Doctor Kristin Westphalen, aboard the seaQuest, and I'm calling in regards to a patient of mine that he treated a few months ago." Kristin hoped she sounded professional enough. She was quite nervous about the outcome of this conversation, and she wasn't sure she was paying enough attention to how her voice sounded.
The receptionist nodded, and smiled pleasantly. "You're in luck," she said, checking her computer. "He's in his office right now. I'll patch you right through." Hmm, Kristin thought. That seemed too easy. Or maybe she was just too used to dealing with the hassals of UEO red tape and her lovely call made to Dr. Wolenczak's office.
"Thank you," Kristin said, smiling back at the friendly woman, a very welcome change from the last one she had to deal with. While the receptionist transferred the call, Kristin leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, preparing what she was going to say, preparing to pull rank and act obnoxious.
"Hello?" the man at the other end of the vidlink said, pulling Kristin back to reality.
Kristin pasted a smile on her face, and made sure Lucas' files were within reach in case she needed to reference anything. "Hello," she said. "I'm Doctor Kristin Westphalen. On the UEO flagship seaQuest." She felt that perhaps she should start pulling rank right away if she wanted any results.
Silver nodded. "Well, Doctor Westphalen, what can I help you with?" He sounded friendly enough. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult as she thought it would be.
Kristin took a deep breath. "I need any information you can give me - and the psych evaluation results - for Lucas Wolenczak," she said pointedly. "He's a patient of mine and..." She trailed off when she saw the expression on Silver's face. He looked slightly astonished, and a little upset. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Silver straightened and seemed to compose himself. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I wasn't expecting... Hold on one moment, I'll send you everything you need." Kristin's mouth dropped open in surprise. There was _no_ _way_ it was possible for that to be so incredibly easy. "What's the problem?" he asked, looking at his computer intently.
Kristin leaned forward slightly in her chair. "We've been having... problems," she said finally. "Schizophrenic symptoms in conjunction with suicide attempts." Oh, she sounded so... doctor-like. As though Lucas was a symptom, not a person. She hated it when she fell into that role. "We... we are not equiped to handle cases like that, so we had him transferred to the Oak Hills Psychiatric Hospital near Boston." She paused. "I know one of the doctors there," she explained.
Silver nodded thoughtfully. "I told them it was a bad idea," he murmured, more to himself than to Kristin. This perked Kristin's interest and she leaned forward even more.
"Told who what was a bad idea?" she asked curiously. If this had to do with the boy's parents.... which, she reflected, it undoubtably did.... Well, she didn't know what she was going to do.
Silver sighed. "Completely off the record," he said softly, "The boy's parents are nuts. Taking Lucas off the medication and out of therapy was a _very_ bad move - especially to send him to a military vessle. Bill Noyce nearly had a heart attack when he found out what they were planning..."
Kristin's eyes widened. "Bill Noyce?" she asked. "_Admiral_ Bill Noyce?" What did Noyce have to do with this?
"That'd be the one," Silver said, tapping his fingers on his desk. "He was the only one who bothered checking up on Lucas while he was here... Parents were still convinced it was an accident."
Kristin tilted her head. "_Was_ it an accident?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Her mind was still reeling at the possibilities of what would bring Noyce into the picture like this. Knowing Lucas' parents, they wouldn't exactly tell the Admiral what was going on with their son before sending him to seaQuest...
Silver shook his head. "Far from it," he replied. "Noyce knew it, too. Only person who could get any answers out of the kid, far as I could tell."
Kristin's eyes just kept getting wider. Admiral Noyce? Getting answers from _Lucas_? This day kept getting stranger and stranger. "Curiouser and curiouser," she muttered to herself
"Listen," Silver said apologetically, "I sent the files you need - plus my notes. I have ward duty about five minutes ago. If you need anything else - _anything_, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you very much - you've been very helpful," Kristin said sincerly. This conversation opened up whole new venues into Lucas' past... now was just a matter of figuring out what those venues were.
Kristin cut the link, leaned back in her chair, and thought long and hard about calling Admiral Noyce. She ended up calling Nathan instead.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The aides strapped Lucas to the table, tightening the bindings nearly to the point of cutting off circulation. "Shouldn't we get doctor..." the second aide, who, by listening to their conversation, Lucas now identified at Mitch, asked nervously.
The machinery behind Lucas powered up with a whirring sound. Bob shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Why bother?"
[[Look what you've gotten yourself into this time, you foolish child,]] the Whispers told him, angrily. [[They're going to kill you right here and now because you were too stupid to keep your mouth shut.]] Lucas bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to close out the Whispers, trying to ignore the leather straps biting into his flesh. Trying to ignore the whirring of the Death Machine behind him.
"What about the sedatives and relaxants?" Mitch asked, his voice raising in pitch slightly. He was terrified - was always terrified when Bob got it into his head to do things like this. Something in him was convinced Bob was right in his actions - the only way these...people... would get better was through correction such as this. But the way Bob did it, with-holding the
normal sedatives and muscle relaxants that would make the ECT therapy seem like a short nap, painless and over quickly, he made the patient writhe in agony on the table for sometimes as long as three or four minutes before shutting off the flow.... It scared Mitch. But how else would the patients like Wolenczak learn?
"Here," Mitch said, opening Lucas' mouth and sticking in a piece of hard rubber. The least he could do was keep Wolenczak from biting his tongue once the seizures started. "Bite down - it'll help."
Bob looked at his partner, dabbed some conductive jelly on Lucas' temples, and took up the electrodes. "Ready?" he asked. Mitch could do nothing but nod.
----------------
Mark thought Lucas would never wake up. For five days, the teen stayed in his bed, the attendants coming in every now and then to change the bedpan. Sometimes Lucas would talk in his sleep, and seem as though he would wake, but those times were rare and never amounted to anything.
Mark occassionally walked to Lucas' side of the room and held his hand, stroked his hair, and scowled at the small burn marks on both of the teen's temples. It wasn't fair. The last person to recieve ECT had come back as a Disturbed, then quickly made the change over to Chronic. It looked as though Lucas had bypassed the Disturbed stage and went straight to Chronic.
In all of his twelve years on the ward, Mark had never seen anyone as young as Lucas endure the shop, and had never seen a Chronic under the age of thirty. They usually started as Acutes, stayed on B Ward for a few years... and then... But Lucas had only been on the ward for three days - Three days!! - before being introduced to the shop. He was Mark's first real friend, and Mark wasn't sure what he would do if Lucas was transferred to the Chronic ward.
But right now there was little he could do but sit and wait.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Note: More mild mention of mental illness, suicide, and eating disorders...Same 'ole upbeat stuff I've been writing about since the beginning...oh yeah, and Remeron is a real drug too... so's ya know. Actually, Lucas refuses to participate at the moment, so we will cut directly to.....
"What do you know about Lucas' arrival on the seaQuest?" Kristin asked, walking in to Nathan's office. Nathan looked up from his paperwork, surprised. Kristin, not waiting for an invitation, sat down in the chair in front of Nathan's desk and dropped the folder with the hospital's information on top of the desk.
Nathan shrugged, not quite sure of what Kristin was getting at. "Not much," he admitted. "I wasn't there, and Bill just gave me the very basics. It's not like Lucas talks about it or anything..." Kristin nodded - she knew Nathan hadn't been aboard when Lucas had first arrived, but she had almost been hoping either Lucas or Noyce had let the captain in on the arrangement a little. "Why?" Nathan asked.
"Nathan, Admiral Noyce was against sending Lucas to the seaQuest," she told him pointedly. She took back the folder and flipped through the papers until she found the one she needed. "Would you like to know why?" she asked when her statment was met with silence. Nathan nodded, a curious look on his face. "Well," Kristin said, "As it turns out, Lucas was diagnosed with severe depression and a developing eating disorder." Bridger raised an eyebrow in surprise, and a look of doubt painted his face. "Doctor Silver, who I spoke to, put him on a high dose of Remeron, and had him going to cognitive therapy sessions twice a week." She paused momentarily, allowing Bridger to digest the information. "Lucas' parents were less than pleased - God forbid their son be any less than perfect - so they went through a great deal of trouble - and spent a great deal of money - to keep the whole thing extremely low-key. However, there was one other person besides his parents who knew about the suicide attempt and diagnosis. Guess who that person was."
Nathan opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, quite uncertain as to who the person might be. He was also quite disturbed that Lucas was suffering from such problems, and Nathan had not even had an inkling as to what the real truth was. Not once had Lucas let on there was a problem, and Nathan hadn't even thought to moniter the teen's eating habits. Well, perhaps he had at one point or another, but there had never been a concrete reason for him to worry. Up until recently, in fact, Nathan had never seen Lucas as a candidate for mental illness. He had his mood swings, of course, but what teenager didn't? This information hit Nathan like a punch in the gut. How could he NOT KNOW?
When Kristin saw she was going to get no reply from Nathan, she continued. "Admiral William Noyce is who," she said pointedly. "Seems Noyce is the only person who visited Lucas while he was in the hospital, then was the only person who would speak in anything more than monosyllables to him afterwards."
Nathan continued to stare at her, still unable to process all the information at once. "Lucas' father got wind of the seaQuest, and pursuaded Noyce to allow Lucas to come aboard. However, that would mean taking Lucas off his medication and out of therapy. Doctor Silver knew it was a bad idea, and I think Noyce did too." She stopped. "Nathan, are you all right?"
Nathan sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing absently at his chin. "Yes," he replied, "I'm just thinking. Why didn't we pick up on any of this?" he asked, hesitantly. He felt as though he had let Lucas down somehow.
"Lucas hid it well," Kristin replied with a shrug. "I'm just glad we caught it before..." she trailed off, not wanting to continue with that line of thought. "Well, I'm glad we caught it. And maybe now with this we can better help him."
Nathan could only hope so.
------------------
Rubin Zeller picked at his "steak" and "potatoes", grimacing. Why could prison food not have some texture, some life to it? They might as well give the prisoners _something_ to look forward to.
The gaurds patrolled the isles of the cafeteria, passing by Zeller several times during the course of the meal. Their constant pacing drove Zeller nearly to distraction, but he couldn't let it show.
He found his mind once again drifting to the poison he had let loose in the boy's room. With any luck, the brat was dead already. The fun thing about the most recent accomplishment of Zeller was not that the victim died a physically painful and agonizing death, it was that their mind slowly deteriorated, leaving nothing but a shell of the former occupant, completely and irreversibly mad. Those Zeller had used the substance on died by their own hands within a week or less.
Zeller was wondering how the wonderful people on the seaQuest were reacting to the death of their chief computer analyst. He also wondered if they had caught on to the truth yet.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
He was drowning, and there was nothing he could do about it. He kicked and flailed as hard as he could, but the only thing that suceeded in doing was push him further into the murky water. Was it even water? He couldn't tell. All he knew was it was cold and dark and he was drowning in it. [[This is what you get,]] the Whispers told him. [[You didn't obey, so this is what
you get.]] "No," Lucas said, and the liquid filled his lungs. He stopped struggling then, and accepted the darkness that engulfed him.
------------
"Dammit, Bill!" Bridger exclaimed, slamming his hand down on his desk.
Admiral William Noyce patiently leaned back in his chair, waiting for Bridger to calm down. Part of him had known this day would come, had known that Lucas would pay the price for his family's denial. He just had hoped that day hadn't come so soon. And he CERTAINLY hadn't hoped Bridger would be as angry as he was. Bill knew he had taken a big risk, with-holding his
knowledge of Lucas' past... but Lucas had been determined not to let his prior problems affect his life on the seaQuest, though through Bill's daily conversations with the teen, it was clear Lucas wasn't miraclulously cured. He did do a very good job convincing those around him that there were no problems, which was the reason, Bill supposed, Bridger was just now piecing everything together.
"Now, Nathan..." Bill began, hesitantly. He knew know was the time to explain to Nathan what he had at first hidden. "I can explain exactly..."
Bridger's eyes flashed. "You sure as hell'd better explain," he said sharply. "Lucas tried to kill himself on my boat, exhibiting symptoms so severe we had to send him to a hospital, you bet I want an explanation. And it had better be a damn good one, too."
Bill nodded, understanding. He could completely understand Bridger's shock and anger. After all, Bridger had gotten pretty close to Lucas in the short time they had been together. And while nobody much expected Lucas to openly admit to any problems, Bridger did view it as his responsibility to read Lucas' actions and responses to tell if there WAS a problem. "Nathan, please calm down," Bill said. "Listen, I've known the Wolenczaks since before Lucas was born. Lawrence and I were once good friends, and my wife and Cynthia have known each other since high school. When Lucas was born, we used to take care of him while his parents were out impressing people." He paused. "That was when our friendship began to strain. I knew they weren't paying the attention they should to an obviously gifted child. And they wouldn't listen to me.
"I got to know Lucas very well, and helped him get through college. When he came home for a year before getting his Master's we had a long talk, and that was when I realized there was something serious going on. He was very... dark and intense. The entire week we were together before he went back up to Buffalo, he dressed entirely in black, and I don't think I saw him eat once the entire time.
"I called Lawrence and I suggested that he get Lucas some professional help before things got any more serious. He just laughed it off, said it was a phase and that I shouldn't tell him how to raise his child.
"Two weeks later I got a call from Lucas. He thanked me and my wife for everything we'd done for him, and told me he was sorry about what he was going to do. Before I could answer, he hung up. I called Lawrence again, but I couldn't get through. The next day, Cynthia called me and told me there had been an... accident... and they couldn't get to the hospital to stay with Lucas and asked if I would. I tried to explain to her that whatever had happened wasn't an accident, but she wouldn't listen. She never did."
Noyce stopped talking and looked at Nathan, who was staring at him in rapt attention. "And..." Bridger prompted.
"And I took care of everything at the hospital. Got Lucas into therapy, worked out medication issues, and was there for him - like his parents should have been.
"Then one day, Lawrence gets wind of the seaQuest refit project. I refused to have any part of it. _Then_ he threatened to pull his funding and his company out of the UEO for good.
"Because his company was one of the major contributors to the seaQuest refit, I hesitantly said yes. But I knew I had to chose someone for command that would also be able to handle something like Lucas' case. Nothing against Commander Ford - he's a wonderful soldier - but he simply is not equipped to deal with that sort of thing."
Nathan raised his eyebrows. "So you chose me," he said disbelieving. Bill didn't much blame him for being so skeptical - the whole thing did sound a bit odd and disjointed, but it was the truth, and sometimes the truth was a bit odd and disjointed.
"In addition to your being so prominant in the field of science, I knew you would be able to give Lucas the guidance and attention he needs -whether Lucas tells you why or not." Bill leaned back in his chair and watched Nathan's reaction.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Nathan demanded. Bill could completely understand why Nathan would be so confused and surprised at this sudden revelation. Everything he thought he knew about two people he thought he knew was wrong.
"Lucas didn't want his past to haunt him on the seaQuest, so he requested I keep the information to myself. I speak with him on a daily basis so I was able to keep up with him and what was happening, and he promised he'd tell me immediately if there was a serious problem," Bill explained.
"I see," Bridger said thoughtfully. Bill glanced up at the knock at his door.
"Listen, Nathan, I have to go - the trials and tribulations of being so high on the chain of command. I'll call you as soon as I can."
"Right, Bill," Nathan replied. "Thank you." He cut the connection and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and staring thoughtfully at the wall. It still didn't make sense, but it was starting to.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
He was still drowning in the liquid blackness, still being pulled down by the icy tentacles into unimaginable depths. Sometimes he heard voices - not the Whispers, but other voices - calling to him, pleading with him to return to the light. But how could he return to something he couldn't see, and didn't even know if it existed? [[It doesn't exist,]] the Whispers informed him. [[It's simply a dream. A bad dream.]]
A hand reached through the blackness and grabbed Lucas' arm. Lucas tried to pull away, but the hand's grip only tightened. Before he knew it, the hand was pulling him up, through the blackness, up to a glowing in the distance. The light - he thing the Whispers had insisted didn't exist. He allowed the hand to pull him, closing his eyes and letting himself drift along.
"Lucas?" A voice from Outside the blackness. A familiar voice. A voice from before... before the pain. "Lucas? Please wake up, please?" He wanted to - wanted to be out of this blackness, forget about the pain. He tried to open his eyes, finding the lids weighing ten pounds each. Once he won that struggle, he was assaulted by blinding light, coming from everywhere around him, unrelenting, merciless. And he liked it.
---------------
Nathan pushed the door open and hesitantly stepped into Lucas' room. Kristin's suggestion had been to check the teen's living quarters to see if there were any sort of clues pointing to a solution. "C'mon, kiddo..." he muttered under his breath, walking over to Lucas' bed. He picked up one of the books lying scattered on the matress and flipped through it. The book turned out to be a complex look at programming in the late twentieth century - which didn't surprise Nathan at all. No, there would be no answers coming from Lucas' books.
He glanced up at the flashing light on Lucas' vid-link, indicating that there were messages. Nathan closed his eyes, trying to tell himself it was absolutely WRONG to go through Lucas' messages. Wrong.... but how else could he know what was going on? By this point he would do anything to figure out a way to help Lucas. [[Do it,]] a voice hissed. [[All will be repaired.]]
Nathan nodded in agreement. Yes, everything would be fixed if he were to do this simple act.
On the screen appeared a young woman with long red hair and bright green eyes. Her tight blue shirt accentuated her curvacious figure, and her lips were set in a pout. "Hey there babe," she said in a husky whisper. "It's Kaylin. Gimmie a call when you get this. We have some... things... to discuss." Nathan's jaw dropped. What was LUCAS doing getting calls like that from people like HER? His rational mind was going over all the possibilities. Sibling, no. Girlfriend? Possibly. On-line friend? Likely. What ELSE didn't he know about Lucas Wolenczak?
"Lucas, it's Wesley," the young man in the next message said insistantly. "You said we'd go out some time - when do you get leave next?" Nathan was taken slightly aback at the teen's appearance. He had short, spiked, bleached blond hair and three earrings in each ear. Around his neck was a chain containing rainbow-hued rings, which Wesley played with as he talked. "I'm sorry you've been having problems - and if you EVER need somewhere to go, my door is always open - remember that. I told you that when they shipped you out and now's the same. All right? Call me." Where did Lucas GET these friends? Nathan wondered. Well, from the sound of it, Wesley had known Lucas for some time - at least before he left the seaQuest....
[[Follow up on it,]] the voices told Nathan. [[Call them back. Ask what they know. Maybe they're the keys.]] Perhaps, Nathan thought. Perhaps. [[Do it,]] the voices commanded. [[Just do it.]] "Okay," Nathan said. "But first I should talk to Kristin." [[Fine. Have it your way.]] "I will," Nathan replied, and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lucas fought the blackness and pulled himself upright, gasping for air. He finally succeeded in opening his eyes and he saw... a hand, stretching out - reaching for him. "Don't touch me!" Lucas mananged to choke out as he pressed himself into the corner. If they touched him - they would bring him back to the Death Machine and they'd...
"Hey, hey," the man belonging to the hand said, sitting on the bed beside Lucas. Lucas attempted to pull himself further away from the person, but he was stopped by the hard brick wall. "Lucas, calm down. It's me... it's Mark... it's okay..." Okay? No, it was NOT okay. Nothing was okay. He had just been strapped to the Death Machine, he didn't know where he was, and he was terrified. Things were NOT okay.
"Don't touch me," Lucas repeated, putting his hand out as if to sheild himself from whatever rays the other being was projecting towards him. "You're not going to kill me again." Because it was obvious that was what happened. He had been put on the Death Machine, and the Machine had done it's duty. He was now dead. But who was this other person? Was he an angel? Lucas didn't remember, in all of his reading, ever coming across a story that had an angel dressed in blue hospital scrubs.
The angel - if he really was one - shook his head. "No, Lucas, I'm not going to kill you. I want to help." He sounded a little strange for an angel, but Lucas supposed it could be shock. Because he WAS dead, though he still wasn't sure whether this was heaven or hell. Did hell consist of white-painted walls with metal-framed beds and barred windows. Yes, it had to be hell. He hadn't been a very worthwhile person on Earth, or at least that's what his scattered memories told him. He hadn't been good enough - so they sent him here. And this person in blue... was simply one of Satan's servents, sent as an orientation guide.
"Lucifer couldn't see me himself, huh?" Lucas hissed, rising to a crouching position on the bed. The springs under the mattress squeaked under the change of weight placement, and Lucas looked down at the rats only he could see. "Got a whole bunch of 'em," he said to himself.
"Lucas?" the devil in blue asked, reaching out a hand, trying to touch him - to hurt him - to push him back into the murky blackness that was puddling on the floor around the rats. "Lucas! I'm NOT going to hurt you! Trust me!"
Lucas stood suddenly, sending bedclothes flying off into oblivion. "No!" he shouted, backing up as far as he possibly could. The devil stood as well, only he was standing in the muck, ankle-deep in rats. It didn't affect him, Lucas supposed, because he was one of Them. And They didn't hurt their own. They only hurt newcomers and outsiders, like Lucas.
The door to hell opened and in walked two more devils, these clad in white. Lucas could see their horns and their cloven hooves clearly now, and no amount of starched whiteness could hide their cruelty and evilness. "There a problem in here?" one of them asked the blue devil.
The blue devil nodded, and pointed at Lucas. "He... ah... just woke up and started yelling. I don't know..." Lucas scowled darkly at the blue devil. He DID know! He knew perfectly well what was going on. He just wanted to give Them another reason to hurt, to damage. The white devils waded through the murkyness and the rats and tried to take his arms. Lucas fought as hard as he could, kicking and biting and flailing until finally he felt a needle-sharp prick in his leg and hell began to darken....
------------
Nathan tapped his fingertips on the tabletop and sighed. For some reason or another, he was quite nervous about this. Calling Lucas' friends - of whom Bridger was never even made aware - and asking them what they knew of Lucas' mental health. It seemed a little strange. But there were those voices, telling him that everything would be okay if he just went ahead and did this. For whatever reason, Nathan was inclined to believe them.
Kaylin answered on the third ring. She was dressed in a tight, red, crushed-velvet top and black leather pants. Her hair was wet and she ran her hands through it continously during the conversation. Her eyes were lined in glitter, and her lips were silvery. "Hello? Do I know you?" she asked in that husky, lustful voice.
Nathan found he had to take a moment to compose himself. He simply could not see Lucas - his Lucas - associating with anyone who looked and talked like HER. Even at this basic first impression, Nathan could tell Kaylin was NOT the kind of person he would picture when thinking of Lucas' friends or acquantances. "Yes, hello," he said when he had found his voice. "I'm Captain Nathan Bridger. I work with Lucas Wolenczak." Kaylin's eyes lit up at the mention of Lucas' name, and she licked her lips, but said nothing. "We've been having... difficulties... recently, and I was wondering... well... how do you know Lucas?" That was something he'd been wondering since seeing her message.
Kaylin smiled, and reminded Nathan of the Chesire Cat. "Oh, I _know_ him," she said playfully, running one perfectly silver-painted fingernail down the front of her shirt. "We know each other quite well, as a matter of fact. Anything else. Captain."
Nathan's mind suddenly went blank. "Um, no, thank you, Miss... that would be all. Thank you." He shut off the vid-link before Kaylin could give a response. No. He did not hear what he had just heard. No, he was simply reading too much into her tone and appearance, that was all. Nothing more. Nothing had happened between her and Lucas. Of course not. [[But you know what the real truth is,]] the voice told him. Nathan took a deep breath, and dialed Wesley's number, hoping he might be able to avoid any similar surprises.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mark sat on the edge of his bed and stared at Lucas. The teen was sleeping fitfully on his own bed, struggling against the leather restraints the aides had put him in. Mark still couldn't believe what They had done - to a child! Kids Lucas' age shouldn't have to be in as much pain as Lucas was... It just wasn't fair, Mark thought, as he lay back on his bed. Sleep took a long time to come, for every time he tried to fall asleep, he could see Lucas, terrified and alone, in his mind's eye.
------------------
At least in sleep, there were no rats or murky blackness, Lucas decided. He was standing on the edge of a grassy cliff, overlooking a harbor. The sun was shining brightly in a blue sky, sprinkled with puffy white clouds. Below him, the harbor was completely calm and flat, no waves at all. After a moment Lucas realized that it wasn't water he was looking down upon, but a mirror reflecting the pure blue of the sky.
Suddenly, the mirror shattered, shards of glass flying upwards, tearing Lucas' tender skin. Where the mirror used to be, appeared a great black void, sucking in everything around it - including the cliff, and Lucas. Lucas closed his eyes, as if that would somehow slow his descent.
To his surprise, he landed gently on a metal catwalk. He looked around and found himself inside a large factory, on a catwalk a hundred feet about the production floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down to see what was being manufactured.
Robots. Hundreds of robots. Not the ones like C-3P0 and other science-fiction staples, but replicas of actual human beings. He strained to see their faces, and to his shock and horror, he saw them. Complete replicas of his friends, lying on the assembly line, waiting to be powered up. [[This is the truth,]] the Whispers told him. [[They are simply part of a master plan, and you, dear Lucas, are the central player.]] "I know," Lucas said softly. "I know."
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Nathan tapped his fingers on his desk impatiently. Although the vid-link had only rung twice, he was beginning to get edgy. And what was worse - he was beginning to have second thoughts. [[Don't think about it,]] the voice told him. [[Just talk to the kid. It's not good for you not to know Lucas' friends.]] "That's right... after all, who knows what kind of stuff he could get into..." He paused. "Now I'm talking to myself," he said. "Great."
After the fourth ring, the vid-link snapped on, revealing Wesley. His hair had changed color since his message to Lucas, and was now a light blue. The earrings remained, as did the rainbow-ringed chain around his neck. "Hi," he said, sounding friendly enough. "Can I help you?"
Nathan nodded, readying himself. He wasn't quite sure what for, though. "Yes," he said. "I'm Captain Nathan Bridger of..."
He was cut off by a delighted sound from Wesley. "Oh HI! Lucas talks about you, like, constantly. It's so nice to finally _meet_ you." Nathan hid a smile. Wesley, though very friendly, seemed to be running on several cups of coffee too many. "I'm Wesley Peters, by the way. Hi."
Nathan nodded politely. "Hi," he said, and paused for a moment, trying to think of what he could possibly say. "I'm actually calling about Lucas," he said, finally. "We've been having... difficulties... and we're trying to call all of his friends who knew him before he came aboard seaQuest, just to get all the information we can..."
The last part was a complete lie, Nathan realized. He wasn't calling for information on Lucas - just as he hadn't called Kaylin for information about Lucas. He was calling to size up Lucas' friends - see if they fit his idea of how Lucas' friends should "be". Thus far, neither Kaylin nor Wesley didn't fit that mold. Both were too flamboyant, too out-there to fit in with introverted Lucas. Normally, Nathan wouldn't even dream of barging in on Lucas' personal life like this, but those voices told him he should keep a tight rein on Lucas' activities. After all, the boy was obviously sick - and perhaps these... people... had something to do with it.
"Oh, sure, sure," Wesley said enthusiastically. "What do you want to know?" Before Nathan could reply, Wesley exclaimed, "Wait! Why don't I just tell you what I know so you won't have to waste your time asking questions to begin with." Nathan simply nodded, unsure as to how to reply. "I'm assuming you know about Lucas' hospitalization and how he ended up on seaQuest..." Wesley began. Nathan nodded again. "We met in the hospital... we were roommates, actually, for a while... long and complicated story. ANYway, we got to talking, whatever, whatever, and we got to be friends. I really don't know much about him other than what he told me - which was that he liked the band Silverchair and he was going out with some hot girl named Kaylin. I guess I was kind of disappointed by that... but hey, if Lucas is straight, I can't change that..." Wesley suddenly stopped talking and stared at Nathan for a moment. "I'm wicked** sorry, that came out wrong," he apologized quickly. "It's just that..."
Nathan waved the comment off. "It's okay," he said. He sort of understood what would draw Wesley to Lucas - the teen was certainly attractive and likable. Besides, Nathan had no objection to that life-style and by this point, revelations of that sort no longer shocked him. "Go on."
Wesley nodded his thanks. "Well, anyways, other than that stuff I really don't know that much about him. he doesn't talk about himself a lot. We talk on the vid-link a lot, and we were supposed to go out to eat on his next shore leave. Where is he?"
It was the question Nathan knew would be asked sooner or later. "He, ah, tried to kill himself again and we... brought him to another hospital for a little while..."
Wesley nodded again, this time in understanding. "Not really surprised," he said. "They took him out too early. Anyway..." There was an ackward silence for several moments before he spoke again. "It was really... I mean... if you... when you see Lucas again... tell him I hope he feels better.... I should... I should really go... It was _really_ nice meeting you."
"Same to you," Nathan replied automatically. "I'll have Lucas call when he can." Wesley smiled again and turned off the vid-link.
Nathan sat back in his chair, twirling a pencil around in his fingers. _What_ was he going to do now? He had no new information, and he had just violated Luca's trust by "checking up" on his choice of friends. [[Don't worry about what Lucas would think,]] the voice told him. [[Things will work out - just keep doing what you're doing.]] "Fine," Nathan said to the air. "I will."
END PART 17
Comments? What do you think? Should I continue it?