Date: Sun, 08 Mar 1998 18:40:15 -0500
From: Diena Taylor <jupiter2@ma.ultranet.com>
Subject: "Fragile Sanity"
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Here's something I finished a while back... a sequel is in the working, so
don't worry. 
Like most of my stuff, this is EvilLucas, so if you don't like that kind of
thing, I suggest you stop reading now. (I put a warning before my pieces now
so no one will read them who doesn't want to... learned my lesson on that one)
Sorry about the wierdness of the format; I cut and pasted it off my web site
to save the aggrivation of re-typing it.

**************************
_seaQuest 2032_
"Fragile Sanity"
Diena Taylor

        Lieutenant Tim O'Neill's quarters were small but comfortable, as
were most of the crew quarters on the seaQuest. Tim had all the lights but
two turned out. One of the lights was positioned over his head, shining on
his open sketchbook. The other light was located behind Tim's subject,
Ensign Lucas Wolenczak. Lucas was sitting motionless in a black upholstered
chair, his long blond hair shining softly in the light. The only movement
was the occasional blinking of his dark-ringed blue eyes. It had been over
an hour, however, and now Lucas was getting very impatient. "You almost
done?" he asked anxiously.

Tim nodded absently and adjusted his glasses, finishing up the final pen
strokes. "Almost," he said. "Hold still." 

Lucas did his best to comply with his friend's request, but he was soon
fidgeting again. Lucas adjusted his position and groaned softly as his
backbone hit the hard arm of the chair. Tim looked up and saw Lucas
grimacing in pain. He was alarmed to find that he could also see Lucas' ribs
clearly through his blue jumpsuit. "You been eating lately?" he asked as
casually as possible. "I haven't seen you in the mess at all."

Lucas looked at him sharply. "I've been eating in my quarters," he said
simply, indicating to Tim that he did not wish to pursue the topic. Tim
nodded and finished the drawing. He turned it around and flipped it over so
that Lucas could see. 

It was just a rough sketch, but it was very good. The shadow and light gave
the drawing depth and character. Lucas grinned at the black and white
portrait of himself.

"That's really good," he said appreciatively.

Tim smiled, pleased that the teenager was satisfied. "Later on I want to do
one of you and Darwin together. You know, the boy and his dolphin."

Lucas nodded, preoccupied. He was exhausted, not having gotten much sleep in
the past few weeks. There were many reasons for his sleeplessness, but the
main one was the recurring nightmare about his terrible ordeal on the planet
Hyperion. The heat, thirst, hunger, and finally the insanity that eventually
ended his life. But once again he was brought back from the brink of death.
This time by Tobias LaCant, who transported him -- and most of the remaining
crew of the seaQuest -- to his last peaceful thought before he was about to
die. Lucas shuddered at the memory of that tiny raft in the middle of the
endless ocean.

Tim saw Lucas tense up. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Lucas shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing."

Tim raised his eyebrows; he knew Lucas too well. "You sure?" he inquired.

Lucas sighed heavily. "I don't know," he said finally. "I'm just really
tired." Well, that was an understatement, but he didn't want to go into any
more detail unless Tim asked. Even then, Lucas wasn't looking forward to
what he would eventually have to say. 

"You been feeling okay?" Tim asked softly.

Lucas shrugged. "I haven't been feeling bad per se, but I haven't been
feeling good." He took a deep breath. If he was going to tell anyone this,
he may as well tell Tim -- the only person he truly trusted besides Darwin.
"I talked to Dr. Perry," he began. "And she said that I..." Lucas took a
shuddery breath at the prospect of his next words. Once he had regained his
cool, he began again. "She said that I..." It's now or never, Wolenczak, he
told himself. "Tim, I've got some sort of virus in my heart. Viral
cardiomonography I think it's called. I've got maybe a year to live."

Tim stared at him for a long time, disbelieving. "Isn't there a cure?" he
asked incredulously. 

Lucas shook his head. "There's an experimental drug that I'm taking for it,
but I doubt it's doing any good. Dr. Perry called everyone she knew from
John Hopkins, Boston, Mason General, Harvard, and a whole bunch of places
I've never even heard of. And everyone said that the best thing for me to do
is to take the medication and rest," Lucas answered.

"Does Hudson know?"

Once again, Lucas shook his head. "You and Dr. Perry are the only ones who
know. And I'd like to keep it that way if I can."

Tim sat back in his chair, gazing at the teenager thoughtfully. How could
Lucas, this incredible young man, be dying? Tim had, for a long while,
thought that Lucas Wolenczak was immortal. He was so young, so brilliant, so
promising. What he was now telling Tim seemed like a bad dream. A bad dream
that none of them would wake up from. Tim watched Lucas sadly, taking in his
beloved blond hair -- the hair that Lucas refused to cut, even after
enlisting -- his deep, sorrowful blue eyes, his blue jumpsuit. Tim shook his
head, remembering when Lucas used to wear jeans, short-sleeves, and old
flannel shirts. But that was a long time ago. Before Tobias. Before
Hyperion. Before Hudson's "no civilian" policy. A very long time ago, when
Lucas had been happy. But now... now. He was a teenager forced to grow up
too fast. Tim felt a pang of remorse at the realization that Lucas had
barely an opportunity to live, and now he was dying.

Finally, Lucas broke the silence. "Ever wonder why you stayed on after
Hyperion?" he asked.

Tim nodded. "Every day," he replied truthfully.

Lucas nodded in agreement. "Me too," he said. "You know, at first I thought
being enlisted was the coolest thing in the world. But now I hate it and I
don't even remember why I did it."

Tim grabbed the photograph off of a shelf and handed it to Lucas. It was of
the original crew: Captain Bridger, Commander Ford, Lieutenant-Commander
Hitchcock, Dr. Westphalen, Tim, Chief Ortiz, Lieutenant Krieg, and Lucas.
Lucas looked at it for a long time, and smiled. "Because you're more devoted
than any of us put together," Tim said.

Lucas sighed. "I only wish I knew why," he said, handing the picture back. 
"This is your home," Tim said.

Lucas looked at the floor, lost in the past. Looking at this forsaken young
man, Tim wished he could turn back time so that Lucas could be happy. But he
knew he couldn't. And Tim knew that this encounter would eat at him a little
every day until he saw Lucas smile again.

                        *****************************

        Lucas sought refuge on Sea Deck, where he once spent every waking
moment, a long, long time ago. This was the only place he felt safe. He was
sitting against the side of the Moon Pool, head in his hands, crying.
Darwin, his dolphin companion, was bobbing up and down in the water,
watching his human friend. Darwin knew that Lucas was crying, but didn't
know why.

"Lucas is sad," the dolphin observed, the AI program Lucas had designed
automatically translating his sonics, clicks, and whistles.

Lucas looked up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "A little," he
replied.

"Why?" Darwin asked.

Lucas thought about this for a few minutes. "I'm afraid," he said finally.

Darwin lifted his head out of the water. "seaQuest good boat!" he protested.
"No need to be afraid!"

Lucas smiled cynically. "I'm not afraid of the _seaQuest_," he explained
patiently. "I'm afraid of dying."

Darwin considered this for a while. "No fear," he said finally. "Brody,
Wendy, and Ortiz not afraid."

Lucas sighed heavily, remembering his dead crewmates -- his friends. "They
had no time to be afraid," he said softly. "I do."

Darwin pondered this momentarily. "Lucas be with Wendy soon?" he asked.

Lucas wiped his eyes with his sleeve; he had never thought about it that
way. "Yeah, I'll be with Wendy soon."

Darwin suddenly seemed to understand what was going on with his human
friend. "Lucas sick?" he asked.

Lucas shuddered and put his head back in his hands. "Yeah, I'm sick," he
replied.

Darwin, ever the optimist, said, "Lucas gets better with time."

Lucas shook his head; Darwin didn't understand. "No, this is the kind of
thing that'll only get worse," he answered.

Darwin thought about this for a minute. He had spent a good deal of his life
with Lucas, and trusted him implicitly. Lucas was Darwin's best friend
besides Bridger, who had gone away. Darwin had risked his life several times
to help Lucas, and Lucas had done the same for Darwin on many occasions.
Darwin had a bond with Lucas stronger than any human words could describe.
"Lucas is friend," Darwin said quietly. "Darwin love Lucas."

Lucas looked up, surprised. No one, with possibly the exception of Captain
Bridger, had ever said that they loved him. Not recently, at least. "I love
you too Darwin," Lucas said, and meant it.

"Lucas is strong. Lucas will get better soon," Darwin announced.

Lucas sighed again. "I hope so Darwin," he said softly. "I hope so."

                        **************************

        Commander Jonathan Devin Ford stood in the center of the seaQuest's
bridge and surveyed his crew. There was O'Neill on Communications, of
course; Henderson, Ford's on again off again lover on Navigation; Piccolo on
Weapons for a change; Kimura assisting Piccolo; and Lucas -- Ford still
couldn't bring himself to think of his junior officer as anything but Lucas
-- at the upper helm console next to Henderson. Ford looked at his crew with
admiration and pride. These were the most elite group of men and women, and
they were all... well, Hudson's really. But just because Hudson was the
captain didn't mean that Ford couldn't be proud of the crew that he had been
with for years.

Everything was going smoothly, only a quiet undertone of conversation as
Henderson flirted with everyone from the genius Lucas to the street-smart
Piccolo. One thing that Ford absolutely hated about Lieutenant Lenore Ellen
Henderson was her tendency to flirt. Lucas -- thank God the kid had some
respect for his superior officers -- wasn't responding to Henderson's
come-ons. Piccolo, on the other hand, was more than happy to indulge. While
Ford was watching this irritating yet amusing scene, he noticed that Lucas
kept coughing harshly and rubbing his already-red eyes with the back of his
hand. Worried, Ford walked over. Noticing his Commander, Lucas pulled his
headset down so it was hanging around his neck. "You okay?" Ford asked.

Lucas nodded tightly, stifling a cough unsuccessfully. "I'm fine," he murmured.

Ford looked at the young officer, then back at the bridge. He noticed that
O'Neill had turned around at his console and was watching them. "You don't
have to pretend you know," Ford said, turning back to Lucas. He paused,
waiting for Lucas' reaction and getting none. "About being sick," he
continued. "You don't have to pretend you're not."

Lucas looked tiredly at Ford. "I'm not sick," he said.

Ford shook his head. "Yes you are," he replied. "Everyone knows it Lucas.
You don't have to pretend anymore."

Lucas looked down at his console. "You don't understand," he said in
something close to a whisper.

Ford stared hard at Lucas. "Try me," he said. 

Lucas looked nervously around the crowded bridge, his blue eyes darting from
one person to another, finally resting on Tony standing below him. "Could we
go somewhere private, Sir?" he asked softly.

Ford nodded. This wasn't usually something he did, but for Lucas... "Sure,"
he said. "Come on." Lucas stood shakily and put his headset on the console.
Ford put one arm around Lucas' tiny waist, helping him down. As he did this,
Ford noticed how very pale and skinny Lucas had gotten in the past few
weeks. Ford turned to Henderson, who sat up at attention when she saw him
looking at her. "Henderson, you have the bridge," he said.

Henderson stood and made her way to the center of the bridge. "Aye, Sir,"
she replied with a quick salute.


The ward room, thankfully, was empty. Ford led Lucas to one of the chairs
that surrounded the large oak table in the center of the room. He himself
sat across from his friend and junior officer. Ford looked into Lucas' blue
eyes and saw them brimming with tears of pain, exhaustion, and fear. "What's
going on Lucas?" Ford asked gently. "Why can't you accept our help?"

Lucas looked down at the enameled table. "Hudson..." he whispered. "I don't
want him to know I'm sick."

The anguish and anxiety in Lucas' voice and the look in his eyes made Ford
wonder how Hudson could go around scaring the hell out of his officers like
this. "Why?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I just don't," Lucas replied hollowly.

Ford nodded; he respected Lucas' need for privacy of his motives, as he
always had. But he still pursued the topic. "I understand this is difficult
for you, Lucas," he began, lightly taking Lucas' graceful, thin, pale, cold
hands in his big, dark, warm ones. "But you have to understand that we're
all here for you. No matter what's wrong with you."

Lucas shook his head sorrowfully. "Thanks Commander, but this is something I
have to handle myself," he said.

Ford sighed. "If you say so, Lucas," he said softly. He paused, thinking.
"You can have the rest of the day off, if you want," he offered.

Lucas looked up. "No," he said. "I need to work. To keep my mind off of this."

Ford looked at the boy skeptically. "Are you sure?" he asked, concerned that
Lucas was going to get seriously hurt if he continued like this.

Lucas nodded. "Positive," he said with conviction.

The two officers stood. "Be careful, ensign," Ford said. "I don't want you
over-extending yourself."

"I won't," Lucas answered. "Thanks, Commander." And he walked out of the room.

Ford watched him go, sadly. He had never really gotten to know Lucas
Wolenczak; figured that he'd be like all the other science officers. But as
the years went by, Ford couldn't help but admire Lucas' strength, his
determination. Bridger had once said that Lucas was "emotionally motivated."
Ford just hoped that the boy's motivation wouldn't fade out on him.

                        ***************************

        It was nice to once again share a room with a former roommate, no
matter how irritating they could be to each other. Tony Piccolo couldn't
help smiling as he stretched out on his inflatable mattress on the floor of
Lucas Wolenczak's small quarters. The year he had spent sharing a room with
the scientist meant a lot to him, and Lucas seemed more than happy to have
company. Tony silently thanked the construction crew that had decided to
make some repairs on the deck that Tony's room happened to be located on.

Tony wasn't fast when it came to picking up details, but he did notice that
Lucas seemed a lot quieter than he had been. He also noticed that Lucas was
up late at night, unable to sleep for a variety of reasons varying from
fevers to the fact that maybe he had a few cups of coffee too many.

Tonight, everything seemed to be all right. Tony had just drifted off into a
deep, sound sleep, when he was jolted awake by a sound coming from Lucas'
bathroom. Tony got up, wrapping his blanket around himself and walked
towards the bathroom. When he pushed the door open, he saw Lucas crouched in
front of the toilet, vomiting heavily.

Tony suddenly got very scared. For some reason or another, he became utterly
terrified. Maybe it was because Lucas looked so weak and helpless curled up
like that. Or maybe it was because he had sensed something was horribly
wrong. In any case, he got his wits together and knelt by his friend,
wrapping the blanket around the boy's shaking body. "What wrong?" he asked,
his usual tough-guy image quickly disintegrating into nothing.

Lucas looked up at Tony, fear clouding his eyes. "I don't want this to
happen to me," he whispered, tears streaming down his pale face.

"I know, Luke," Tony said softly, calling Lucas by the nickname that had
begun so long ago; when Tony had first met him and couldn't pronounce
"Wolenczak." Tony had said "Let's just stick with Luke," and the name had
been used ever since. For a while, Lucas had pretended to hate it, but soon
accepted the name and a camaraderie with Tony that to that day had never
been broken. "What's going on?"

Lucas pushed back a sob. "I can't stop throwing up," he murmured painfully.

"For how long?" Tony asked, trying to sound like he knew something about
teenage illnesses and failing miserably. 

"All night," Lucas replied. "A couple hours it turned into dry heaves..."
his voice trailed off for a moment. "But now all I'm bringing up is
blood..." He sounded so scared, so hopelessly scared. Tony didn't know what
to do. Lucas had begun to cry in fear and pain. He seemed so small, so
vulnerable. "It hurts so bad," Lucas said through his sobs. "It just hurts
so bad."

Tony knew that he was no expert when it came to health, and he didn't trust
himself to take care of Lucas. "You want me to call Dr. Perry?" he asked
hopefully.

Lucas swallowed hard and tried to sound tough as he replied, "No," He
softened a little and repeated, "No."

Tony shook his head. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" he asked. There
was no reply but the tortured sound of Lucas' vomiting. "You're really sick
Luke," Tony said. "This is the third night in a row you've been up all
night. You gotta get help."

Lucas looked up and shook his head desperately. "No," he said, then paused.
"Don't you understand?" he asked. "Hudson thinks I'm weak as it is. I need
to show him that I can handle this by myself."

"You don't need to handle it all by yourself," Tony assured him. "You need
help Lucas."

Lucas shook his head dejectedly. "You don't get it, Tony," he snapped. "If
Hudson sees I can't handle my sickness and still be an officer, he'll send
me away."

Tony felt a pang of something close to guilt at the fear that had been
instilled in this young man. As Tony looked at Lucas, he saw only a shadow
of his old roommate, and couldn't believe how much his friend had changed
since they came back from Hyperion. Tony suddenly realized that the day they
came back to Earth was the day Lucas' life fell apart. "He won't do that,"
Tony tried to assure his friend, but Lucas pushed him away.

"He will," Lucas said. "I know he will." Lucas was silent for a while, then
spoke again. "I can't let Hudson know that I'm dying... he'll say that I'm a
danger to myself and the crew. I can't let him know."

Tony silently gazed at Ensign Lucas Wolenczak, the boy who now ranked up
with Superman on Tony's list of heroes. "What do you want, Lucas?" he asked.

Lucas thought for a minute before answering. "I want to die now," he murmured.

"You don't really want that, do you?" Tony asked, swallowing the growing
lump in his throat. "What do you want right now, as in this minute?" He
paused. "Some ginger ale? Crackers? A friend?"

Lucas hesitated. Tony's right -- he doesn't really want to die. Not right
now, anyway. "Be my friend," he said softly. "Just be here for me." Lucas
leaned heavily against Tony and began to cry hard. Tony gently stroked
Lucas' long blond hair.

"That's it. Let it all out," Tony said, holding his friend as though just
human contact would cure him. "It's okay to cry, Lucas."

                        *****************************

        He decided the moment Tony suggested he take that day off. Yes, he
decided that this was all for the best. The pain had to end, and he was
going to end it right now. 

Lucas had slept most of the day, and now it was time for him to end the
pain. He walked into the bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet. Neatly
lined up according to purpose were his prescription and over-the-counter
medications. Lucas glanced at the Tylenol, the Advil, the many
anti-depressants that didn't work, a couple stimulants, and the Jerianaxil
-- his experimental medication for the cardiomonography. This was the bottle
he grabbed from the shelf, and this was the bottle he emptied into his hand.
Two by two, he swallowed the small white pills until he had finished the
bottle. This done, he walked back to his room and laid down on his bunk,
waiting for the deadly dosage to do its work.


Tony's shift was over, and he wanted to get some sleep before he had to go
meet O'Neill and Kimura for dinner. He walked to the door to Lucas' room and
immediately felt that something was dreadfully wrong. He slowly pushed the
door open, not knowing what to expect. "Luke?" he asked timidly. There was
music playing from Lucas' disk-player. A song that Tony was vaguely familiar
with, having heard Lucas singing it under his breath many times.

"Is it a kind of dream,
"Floating out on the tide
"Following the river of death downstream
"Is it a dream?

"There's a fog along the horizon
"A strange glow in the sky
"And nobody seems to know where you go
"Or what does it mean
"Oh is it a dream?

"Bright eyes
"Burning like fire
"Bright eyes
"How can you close and fade
"How can the light that burned so brightly
"Suddenly burn so pale
"Bright eyes.

"Is it a kind of shadow
"Reaching into the night
"Wandering over the hills unseen
"Or is it a dream?

"There's a high wind in the trees,
"A cold sound in the air,
"And nobody ever knows when you go
"And when you start
"Oh into the dark.

"Bright eyes
"Burning like fire
"Bright eyes
"How can you close and fade
"How can the light that burned so brightly
"Suddenly burn so pale
"Bright eyes.

"Bright eyes
"Burning like fire
"Bright eyes
"How can you close and fade
"How can a light that burned so brightly
"Suddenly burn so pale
"Bright eyes."


Tony looked around the room until his gaze fell on Lucas sprawled on his
bunk, his breathing labored and shallow. Tony's eyes scanned the room, saw
the empty medicine bottle on the floor of the bathroom, and instantly knew
what happened. Tony ran over to the comm-unit on the wall near the door. He
pressed the call button for med-bay and spoke quickly, frantically. "There's
an emergency in Ensign Wolenczak's quarters," he said. Tony walked over to
Lucas and knelt by him, not believing that Lucas would give up like this.
"Aw man, Luke. Why do you have to do this?" The only answer came from the
disk-player:


"...How can a light that burned so brightly,
"Suddenly burn so pale
"Bright eyes..."

                        **************************

        Captain Oliver Hudson was confused and angry. He had just gotten a
call from med-bay telling him that Ensign Wolenczak had purposely taken an
overdose of some sort of medication that Hudson had never heard of, let
alone known that Lucas was taking it.

Luckily, Piccolo had found the ensign in time to save his life, but the next
few days would be critical. Now Hudson, Commander Ford, and Piccolo were
walking out of Lucas' ICU room, all solemn and quiet. Dr. Perry tried to
lift their spirits by assuring them, "He should be okay."

Hudson looked at him XO and tried to grasp what was going on. He knew he
didn't have the whole story. "Why am I getting the feeling I'm missing
something?" he asked looking Ford in the eye, making Ford cringe.

Ford stammered for a moment. "Well, sir, it's a long story," he said finally.

Hudson glared at him "I like long stories," he replied. "Let's go to my office."


Hudson couldn't believe what he had just heard. His junior officer, dying of
a disease Hudson had never heard of, yet not telling anyone but a choice
few. In a way, Hudson felt hurt that Lucas hadn't confided in him. But what
was done was done and now Hudson had to deal with the repercussions. "Why
wasn't I informed about this?" he asked angrily.

Ford barely met his gaze. "Lucas thought it was best..." he began.

Hudson cut him off, almost, but not quite, losing his temper. " 'Thought it
was best'? I need to file a report to McGrath on why one of my crew members
has attempted suicide and retained important medical information and I'm
supposed to say the 'thought it was best'?" Hudson demanded roughly.

Tony spoke up, almost meekly. "Sir, Lucas has a tough time admitting he
needs help," he said. "He thought that maybe if you didn't know, you
wouldn't try to help him."

Ford nodded. "Lucas has always dealt with things alone," he said, and it was
the truth. "But..."

Tony continued Ford's unfinished sentence. "Solitude has its price."

An awkward silence came over the room as the members of the group looked at
each other uncomfortably. Finally, Hudson broke the silence by clearing his
throat. "Well, thank you gentlemen," he said, not thankful at all, "you're
dismissed."

Piccolo and Ford got up and left the room, leaving Hudson alone to wonder
why he was so easy on his crew.


Lucas was awake, had been for several days. For now, he was staring at the
wall, seeing nothing and everything at the same time. Dagwood, the GELF
prototype and Lucas' friend, peeked in the room and, seeing Lucas was awake,
walked in hesitantly, holding a wilting bouquet of flowers. Lucas noticed
his friend and snapped out of his reverie. "Hi Dagwood," he said in
greeting. His voice was soft and pained, clearly reflecting his state-of-mind.

"Mmm... Hello Lucas," Dagwood said, almost embarrassed. "Are you feeling
better?"

Lucas nodded slightly. "Yeah," he said. "Thanks Dag."

Dagwood held out the flowers. "These are for you," he said as Lucas took
them gently, touched by the GELF's concern.

"Thank you," Lucas said.

Dagwood stood in front of Lucas for a few minutes before he spoke again.
"Why did you want to die?" he asked innocently, honestly interested.

Lucas was surprised by the question; he hadn't been expecting it. "A lot of
reasons, Dag," Lucas explained. "Sometimes people do things that they can't
explain but seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"Do you still want to die?" Dagwood asked, concerned for his friend's
well-being.

Lucas shook his head. "No... I... I..." he paused for a long time. "I want
to get better, Dagwood," he said finally.

Dagwood considered this for a moment. "Do you feel bad Lucas?" he asked. "Do
you feel alone?"

Lucas nodded, blinking back the tears that were welling up in the corners of
his blue eyes. "Yes," he said shakily. "I always feel alone. That's one of
the reasons... I did what I did."

Dagwood put one big splotched hand on Lucas' slim shoulder. "Mmmm... You are
not alone, Lucas," he said softly. "You have friends who love you."

The tears came then, and Lucas sobbed harshly as they fell down his pale
cheeks. Dagwood wrapped his strong arms around his friend and let him cry,
the tears washing the pain and hurt away.






Copyright 1998, by S. Angelo 

Note: Bright Eyes written by Art Garfunkle and used without permission. 













*****************************
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Labyrinth/3589/ 
****************
"And Ford, he's so cool-headed. Does everything by the book. I can't even
_find_ the book."
	--Tim O'Neill

"You're walking towards the light at the end of the tunnel, then -- BOOM! --
You're hit by a train."
	-- Me