The End is Never Final

He sits quietly, hands twitching uncontrollably in his lap. The material of his shirt sometimes gets caught in the way of those movements. It twists and turns within his hands, leaving it impossibly wrinkled. When it falls from his grasp, the fingers twitch, twisting the air helplessly between the slender digits. Beside him, Hudson sits. No longer watching, he sits there (imposing) waiting for Lucas to stop.

Across from them, Lonnie is crouched beside her own burden. Commander Ford is steadily getting worse. He needs medical attention, but, despite the presence of those qualified to tend him, there are no supplies at their disposal. The doctor had looked him over and then threw her hands up in disgust. There is nothing anyone could do, yet Lonnie Henderson took it upon herself to sit with the ranking officer. She spoke to him almost non-stop, doing what she could to make him feel comfortable and loved. Really, anything to keep him with her.

Lucas’ hands finally still, “I’m okay now.”

“Son, we don’t know what made you not okay.” Hudson places a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Just keep sitting. I don’t want you out of my sight until we figure out what’s wrong.”

“Don’t call me son.” Blue eyes flare and, far under them, the slender mouth twists to form a grotesque sneer, “You can’t stand me, can you? You think I spent my entire teenage years in somebody’s basement typing Hab SoSII’ Quch at every chat room addicted nerd that pissed me off? Well I have a news flash for you Captain.”

The words came out as neatly as a bitter pill. It’s ugly and there’s no mistaking the contempt, even when he pauses, it’s obvious that the pause isn’t from weakness. He’s breathless with the anger still sending tiny torpedoes off in his ears and, even if its self-destruction, he needs to get out every last word. “I spent my teenage years here, on this fucking sub. So don’t treat me like an outsider, sir, because I’ve been here a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

There are hands on his shoulders, digging into his flesh, hurting him. The brown eyes bore into him and his mouth opens and closes wordlessly. The Captain’s mouth takes on a grimace and Lucas is suddenly frightened.

“You will pull yourself together and you will do it now, Mr. Wolenczak.”

“I-I’m sorry.” The words are barely caught by Hudson’s ears.

Hab SoSII’ Quch is Klingon for "Your mother has a smooth forehead." It is viewed as an insult.