Obviously, I don't own SeaQuest, or any of the characters contained therein. If I did I would be a far happier woman, not to mention a far richer one.
This is a SeaQuest story, but it's primarily a Lucas story, and much of it doesn't take place on the ship. It's also a crossover with something else, but I'm not saying what just yet. (I'll tell you what it is when I get to it, and of course, add on the depressing fact that I don't own that either...) One last note, I have no editor for this piece, so it won't shock me if there are a few grammatical errors. Please feel free to point them out to me.
Thanks for reading, and please review me so that I'll know whether anyone is interested in my continuing on!
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Friday, April 25, 5:30 P.M.
The waters beneath San Francisco Bay
"Hey, it's not funny, I coulda been killed!" Ben Krieg was amused, but trying very hard to act as though he were miffed by the laughter of his friend. He and Lucas had gone into the city, and well, things had not gone exactly as he had planned. As he piloted the supply truck back toward the ship, he was just grateful that Lucas had been the only person he'd taken with him. Otherwise, he'd be in much more trouble…
The blonde boy in the seat next to him tried, quite unsuccessfully, to stop laughing at the somewhat serious situation. "I tell you, the Captain's going to kill you." he managed to choke out between bouts of laughter.
"Yeah, who's gonna tell him? You? Didn't you learn your lesson about that the first time?" He really hoped that Lucas stopped laughing before they reached the ship; the last thing that he needed was for the captain to suspect something.
Lucas calmed himself, and looked over at Ben doubtfully. "I think it's going to be kind of obvious, Ben. You lost almost a thousand dollars of SeaQuest's supply fund." Biting his lip trying to keep from laughing again, he added, "Because your own contact mugged you…" Falling forward in his seat, Lucas once again burst into laughter.
"Well, that's the last time I deal with him, that's for sure." Krieg said resolutely, making the teenager laugh even harder. "But seriously, Lucas, I replaced the money. And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. I've been in enough trouble lately, and I don't need the captain on my case about this." He still couldn't believe that he had been mugged, and in broad daylight no less.
When he replied, Lucas' voice held a whiny note, "Aww, you've got to be kidding me! I can't tell anyone this? This is like, the best story ever! You should've seen the look on your face…" Seeing the sincerity in Krieg's eyes, Lucas sighed heavily. "Oh all right, Ben. I won't say anything."
"Good man, Lucas. You may just save my career."
Chuckling a bit more sedately than before, Lucas responded, "I don't think that anything could-"
But his next words were cut off as something slammed into the side of the supply truck. The two men were tossed hard to the left, knocking Ben unconscious instantly when his head impacted the side of the truck. The truck shook violently in protest to the collision, and started to spin out of control because of both the blow and the sudden lack of a pilot.
Lucas dimly registered two more impacts, and had a few seconds to wonder what exactly was going on. But all thought was lost when the truck crashed into the ocean floor a moment later, and Lucas too lost consciousness.
* * * * * * *
Saturday, April 26, 1:45 A.M.
He tried not to hear what they were saying as he slowly regained consciousness. When he was certain that he had heard it, he tried to deny it to himself. It wasn't possible. It was his mind playing tricks on him. It was a very bad dream, brought on by stress. It was a sick, sick joke, perpetrated on him by the captain because Lucas had told him about what had happened in the city. It was anything but what he was hearing.
"How long do you think he's going to be out?" The concerned voice of the captain cut through the fog in his brain, and he realized that it was neither a bad joke, nor was it going to go away.
"Hard to say, honestly. He's just got a little concussion, but they can be tricky things. He'll probably be awake soon, though." Doctor Westphalen's voice was a little weak, and it struck him as odd that such a strong woman sounded as though she had been crying.
He heard motion then, and a hand touched his shoulder. "I'll just stay with him, then. Why don't you go try to get some sleep?"
"I could try, but I know that I won't sleep. Not now. Not while there's still any hope." The doctor sounded as though she was close to tears again, and he strained to speak, to tell them to stop saying things like that. To drown out the accusing voices in his head.
"I know. But you should try, Kristin; it's nearly two."
"What about you? Shouldn't you be asleep? You're obviously exhausted. And just what are you going to tell him when he wakes up? You should just let me give him a sedative, and he'll sleep till morning." Every fiber of his being wanted to agree with the doctor, but he knew that it would just be a lie. What difference would it make if the captain told him the next day? Nothing would have changed.
"I won't be able to sleep any more than you will. And no, I don't want a sedative, for either of us." Was it his imagination, or did the captain's voice quaver a bit when he continued? "And I'll tell him the truth. He deserves to know."
"Would you make all this effort to tell Lucas, if their positions were reversed?" That was the doctor, always trying to be reasonable, even in situations that positively demanded the opposite.
"That's an entirely different situation, Kristin. Lucas is just a…" The captain's voice broke off in a strangled sob, and he felt the hand move from his shoulder.
"Oh God, Nathan, I'm so sorry…" Again, he heard motion, as the doctor presumably moved to comfort the captain. Listening to the private moment, he wished both that he could open his eyes, and that they would never open again.
"A boy, Kristin, he's just a boy…"
"They'll find him, Nathan. They have to."
Suddenly, the room was filled with tension, and he couldn't figure out why. The answer was quickly supplied, though, as the captain spoke. "That's exactly what Carol said, you know. But it's not true. They don't have to do anything. We could just spend the rest of our lives wondering." Bridger's voice was eerily calm, but spoke volumes in pain.
He heard the doctor start crying, and the sound was slightly muffled by something, possibly the captain's chest. At that point, he wasn't sure whether he still couldn't open his eyes or just didn't want to. The 'didn't want to' part was certainly getting stronger by the second, though, and his eyes were beginning to feel as though they were glued shut.
Just as he had decided to try again, the captain said the blessed words that he hadn't thought would come. "You're right. We're in no shape to do this. Sedate Krieg. We can talk to him in the morning."
The doctor scrambled to follow the captain's instructions, and Krieg was grateful. His reprieve may have been a lie, but he was grateful for it anyway. His last rather incoherent thought as he drifted back into a troubled sleep, was to wonder if it were possible to trade in himself for Lucas. It wasn't a fair trade and he knew it, but he would have given anything for it to be allowed anyway.
* * * * * * *
Saturday, April 26, 7:00 A.M.
The waters beneath San Francisco Bay
It was the light that woke him. That strange wavering light; refracted by many feet of water. It was a sight that he was familiar with, certainly, but not a sight that he was used to waking up to. He found himself looking up from the ocean floor, water swirling all around him, and he panicked. He was underwater, and with no way to breathe. It took him nearly thirty seconds to realize the simple fact that he was breathing, and having no difficulty doing so.
After a few minutes of scientific observation, he realized that he was not breathing water. It was most certainly air that he was pulling into his lungs, as it felt no different than it usually did. He was at the bottom of San Francisco Bay, wearing his street clothes and watching the fish swim by, and it felt no different than lying in his bunk back on the ship.
The whole thing was quite tinged with unreality, and he quickly decided that it was a dream. It made perfect sense, dreaming about being able to breathe underwater. He lived on a submarine; he worked with a dolphin. He loved the ocean; it only made sense that he would dream about being able to breathe underwater. And it wasn't as if his mind could comprehend what it felt like to breathe water, so it wasn't incorporated into the dream.
He sat up, feeling a bit stiff, and remembered the accident. That must be it. The doctor had drugged him when he and Ben had been brought in off the truck. He must have still been unconscious then, and still was. He wondered idly, as he watched a school of fish swim right by his face, if they had figured out yet what happened to the truck. It had felt to him like a purposeful attack, but maybe he was just getting paranoid after living on the SeaQuest for eight months. It seemed like every week SeaQuest was dealing with an armed takeover attempt or something similar.
It quickly brought him back to reality, though, when one of the fish swam directly through his head. He jumped to his feet, scattering the fish momentarily. What kind of crazy dream was this!? 'Lucas, my friend,' he thought to himself, 'you have really gone over the edge this time.'
It was definitely time to wake up. The only problem with that, it seemed, was that his mind appeared to be ignoring the direct order that he gave it to wake up. He was not only not waking up, but he was still planted quite firmly on the bottom of the San Francisco Bay. This dream was becoming decidedly less cool and more scary as the moments passed.
Not knowing what else to do, he headed in the direction he thought the city was in. He would have headed toward the SeaQuest, but it was a huge ocean and quite easy to get lost in. While he kept telling himself that he was just dreaming, every step made him believe it less, and he did not want to be stranded in the middle of the ocean. Yes, best to get to shore. If, by some scary train of logic that his mind refused to process, he actually were on the bottom of the bay and walking toward land, he would call the captain when he reached shore.
The situation quickly changed when he reached shore, though. The first thing that he found was the disturbing truth that he was not dreaming. He became sure of that very quickly, as he was rather certain that it was impossible to have such a detailed dream. People walked by him, some stopping to give him funny looks now and then, cars on every street, and nothing even slightly familiar. It was like no dream he had ever had, but it was a lot like oh… walking down the streets of San Francisco.
The second thing that he found was that he couldn't call the captain. Not because the lines weren't working or because he didn't have the spare change, no, nothing so nice and mundane could ever happen to Lucas Wolenczak. Simply put, he couldn't call the captain because he couldn't touch the phone. He had walked up to the pay phone as anyone would, and reached out to pick up the receiver. And his hand had gone right through it. Trying very hard not to hyperventilate at that, he had continued walking, just to calm himself.
The third thing he found turned out to be the most disturbing thing of all. As he turned a corner and found himself at a newsstand, he took a brief glance at the newspaper headlines. And he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle. It featured a huge picture of him in a wet suit, standing next to Darwin. The headline was 'Child Genius Dies in Tragic Accident.'