Did you ever wonder how Ross and McQueen first met? Here's my take on it; see what you think. My apologies to the military out there. My ignorance of proper military procedure is total; if I offend, it is absolutely unintentional.

ADRIFT IN A SEA OF MEMORIES
by
Paula Higgins


As he stepped into the gym, Ross noticed that most of its habitues were huddled in one corner - as far from the punching bag as they could possibly get. The sole exception was the man singlemindedly doing his best to drill a hole in the bag with his fists. Spotting an old friend, Glen walked up and asked, "How long has he been at it?"

"Glen, am I glad to see you! This has gone way beyond scary - McQueen's been hammering away at that thing for the last three hours. Nobody's been able to get him to stop. It is so eerie. What in the world do you suppose is wrong?"

Glen knew exactly what was bothering McQueen, but he didn't waste any breath trying to explain. He would need all his energy just to reach Ty and drag him back into the real world. Attempting to be as irritating as possible, Glen stationed himself just at the edge of McQueen's peripheral vision.

Nothing. No response. The pounding continued. Ross decided to step up his campaign, so he suddenly shouted "TY!" at the top of his lungs. That got a response; fortunately, one that Ross was prepared for. McQueen swung around, fists still raised and quite ready to use Ross as a substitute for the bag. Glen said quietly, "Knock it off, Ty," and then ducked as McQueen apparently took him literally. "And I don't mean my head!"

McQueen just stood there - breathing hard, sweat pouring off of him, shaking with fatigue and rage. Ross finally got a good look at his friend's face. Anger and pain, yes - those he'd expected - even bitterness. But surely the divorce by itself hadn't caused McQueen to go over the edge like this.

There was more here than met the ... "Damn - Ty, please don't tell me - you haven't started popping those blasted pills again! Have you?"

The cold, inhuman look in McQueen's eyes was replaced with one that was furtive and shifty and infinitely worse. "I don't know what you're talking about ... Sir."

Ross kept a lid on his temper with an effort. "Hit the showers. We have to talk - someplace where we can't be overheard."

When Ty came out of the dressing room a short while later, he presented a totally different aspect to the world - friendly, energetic, enthusiastic. Ross wanted to throw up. He'd seen what green meanies did to tanks - what they did to this tank in particular. He couldn't believe McQueen would voluntarily do such a stupid thing to himself. Blast his ornery hide!

"All right, Ty. I got here as soon as I could. That message you sent me - Got A Divorce - was succinct, but not very informative. I'm sorry it took me a week to get here - more sorry than I can say. I know the divorce hit you hard, but you cannot escape the pain this way. How long have you been taking them?"

Desperate to end this conversation, McQueen tried to bluff his wayout of trouble. "Dammit, Glen. Credit me with a little common sense! Taking drugs would ruin my career. I'd never be such an idiot."

Ross' riposte was brilliant. "Don't lie to me, Ty. Don't ever lie to me."

There was no way McQueen could reject such an appeal. He was incapable of lying to Ross, and they both knew it. The trust and understanding between them was too important to throw away. Besides, this wasn't the way he wanted to live his life; he knew he needed help. The sigh seemed to come from deep inside his gut. "Oh, hell, Glen. I just wanted to feel ... I wanted the hurt to go away. I wanted the whole blasted world to go away."

The relief Ross felt was overwhelming. Convincing Ty to listen to reason had been easier than he expected. Now all Glen had to do was help him through detox - and then prove to him that time would heal the wounds caused by the divorce. It'd be a piece of cake for someone like Superman. Too bad he wasn't. "It's okay, Ty. We can get through this. We've done it before."

McQueen shook himself into focus and said, "WE? No way, Glen. I nearly killed you the first time. You're not sitting through detox with me again. I can't take that kind of chance."

Glen's face took on the stubborn and determined look that McQueen was extremely familiar with. "I'm not letting you go through this alone, Ty. Don't even think it."

"Glen, for heaven's sakes, I won't BE alone. It's not like they're throwing me into a padded cell and locking the door! I'll have doctors and nurses hovering over me the whole time. We both know what will happen in there - it's not a pretty sight. But at least I know what to expect, and I know I'll get through it."

Ross couldn't resist such a golden opportunity. "You know, Ty, before you went into detox that first time, you never argued with me about anything. At least something good came out of it - you feel comfortable yelling at me. And you know from personal experience that yelling is the preferred form of communication for the Ross family."

The glare McQueen sent his way bothered Glen not at all and was somewhat marred by the chuckle that accompanied it. So Ty gave up and admitted, "It's true. After all that noise I made - screaming and hollering ... Later, I realized it hadn't phased you a bit. And that's when I finally knew ... Oh, hell." Expressing his emotions was not a task that came easily to McQueen, but, luckily, Ross knew what had been left unsaid.

"Come on, Ty. The sooner we get this started, the sooner it'll be over with. Let's go find Dr. Sloan." And the two friends headed over to the base hospital. Their friendly neighborhood doc pulled a few strings and quietly found a place for McQueen in the detox unit.


"You know, it's the waiting that gets to me. I'd rather be in there fighting, coping with it. I know what's coming; I know how bad it'll get. I just wish I could skip over the next few boring hours until it starts. Does that sound crazy?"

McQueen paced back and forth like a caged panther. Ross didn't think it was the first signs of withdrawal; it was just the normal McQueen high-energy level. Patience was a skill that had to be learned slowly over the years. Ty had learned this particular lesson well, but it was never easy for him.

"This is why I had to be in here with you, Ty. It'll be worse this time - for the simple reason that we both know what's ahead of us. There's no uncertainties, no vague generalities like the last time. People say that heading into the unknown is the worst, but that's not always true. And, you know, once you kick it, you'll still have to deal with all the emotional baggage from your divorce."

"I know. I still don't understand why I didn't just put a gun to my head. It would have been quicker." McQueen kept up his pacing; maybe if he tired himself out, this enforced inactivity would be easier to bear. Anything to pass the time.

"Nonsense, Ty. I can't ever see you suicidal. You'd never give them the satisfaction." McQueen shot him a puzzled look, so Ross explained himself more fully. "If you killed yourself, it would prove those people were right about you all along - the ones who called you names and treated you like dirt over the years. You'd never allow that to happen!"

Smiling to show his agreement, Ty also reverted to an earlier argument. "I still wish I could talk you out of staying through the whole thing. I'm just afraid - when I lose control, when I start hallucinating ... I'm afraid of what I might do to you. Besides, when I'm that far gone there's not much you can do for me. Right now it helps a lot to have you here to talk to. But, later ..."

"Ah, but, Ty - I still remember what you said before. That the sound of my voice was like an anchor for you. That no matter how far you drifted, you knew you'd always find your way back - by listening for my voice. Give it up, Ty. I'm staying."

That image brought back deeply buried memories, but McQueen kept on trying. "I was just a scared young kid back then, Glen. Please, look at what's coming - the sweats and chills I can deal with, the irritability you're used to. The vomiting ... well, you've held my head over a toilet before."

Raising his voice to be heard over the sound of Ross' laughter, McQueen continued. "But it's the hallucinations that scare me. I had nightmares for months afterward. I had you in a chokehold; I'd mistaken you for a damned silicate - do you have any idea how close I came to breaking your neck?"

This time, Ross didn't even bother to argue. "How about some poker? Hmmmm? Just to pass the time." McQueen made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded remarkably like a growl and plopped down on the bunk beside Ross. "Deal." Some people were simply too pigheaded for their own good.



Lieutenant Potter shook Ross awake. She hated to disturb him, but knew that he should take advantage of the relative calm. "Sir, why don't you go outside and get some fresh air. Clean clothes and some hot food would really help, too. Things are pretty quiet in here right now. I'll keep an eye on the patient while you're gone."

Ross stretched and blinked and wished for the sake of his old bones that he'd picked a better place than the floor for sleeping. As he automatically checked the corner where McQueen was holed up, Glen knew there hadn't been much choice in the matter. Ty had started hallucinating - the chemical warfare raging in his brain had tricked him into believing he was in the middle of a battle.

Right now, McQueen felt safe huddled in the intersection of two walls; it afforded protection to his back and flank positions. The hapless bunk protected his front; all he had to worry about were missiles lobbed in from overhead. He felt a little confused about what enemy he was fighting, but, as long as he felt secure, he would not go on the offensive. That was a contingency Ross wanted to avoid at all costs.

Glen considered the young woman's advice. Food had been the last thing on his mind a few hours earlier; the sight of McQueen puking his guts out had erased any hunger pangs he might have had. Now, though, the idea of eating made his stomach rumble. This peaceful moment in the eye of the hurricane might be the last chance he'd have for some time to come. "How long have we been in here, Lieutenant? Three days?"

"Yes, sir. We've gotten past the halfway mark. The Major's pulse and blood pressure are fine. It's a pity we couldn't lessen the severity of his symptoms, but we just don't know enough about In Vitros' reactions to different drugs. The accelerated cell growth their bodies experience drastically changes their biochemistry. After all these years, though, I don't understand why we don't know more than we do."

"I said something like that to McQueen once. He replied that research costs money - and who would pay for research to help tanks? Especially when it was easier to grow new ones than fix damaged ones."

Nurse Potter looked faintly shocked at such callousness, but Ross just shrugged. "Facts of life, Lieutenant. McQueen is the most down-to-earth realist I know. And the sad truth is that he's right, as usual. I think I'll take you up on your offer, but I'll try not to be gone too long. As I recall, all hell will shortly break loose."



Ross cursed the accuracy of his predictions. He could hear the commotion the minute he entered the corridor. McQueen's nightmares had apparently taken a different, darker turn. The nurse, two orderlies and a doctor were trying unsuccessfully to hold McQueen down on the newly-righted bunk. "Sir, he started having convulsions a few minutes ago."

"They're not convulsions," Ross replied as he wrapped both arms around McQueen and held on as tightly as he could. "He's back in that damned prisoner of war camp - reliving what they did to him. Why the hell are hallucinations always based on our worst memories? Why can't McQueen dredge up some of the good times - instead of remembering all the insanity he's been through?"

And then the screams started. Ross had hoped with all his heart that he would never be forced to listen to that awful sound again. There were no words - just noise. Anguished, animalistic, never-ending. From the depths of a soul pushed to the breaking point.

He knew that this was what McQueen had feared the most - exposing his most private fears and most dreadful memories to the eyes of a cold, uncaring world. Losing control. Allowing others to see the pain and the guilt and the terror that he tried so hard to keep hidden.

He had to rescue Ty from that chamber of remembered horrors. This was the main reason he'd stayed - restraints and physical force would only deepen McQueen's belief that the torment he was merely imagining was, in fact, real. He'd gotten Ty out of that POW camp once before; he would not fail his friend this time, either.

He rocked McQueen back and forth, crooning to him softly. "It's okay, Ty. You're safe. You're here with me. I won't let anything happen to you. Those silicates turned to dust a long time ago. These are just bad memories - I want you to let go of them. Come on, son. Calm down and let go."

A long time seemed to pass before the screams changed to low moans. That voice - it was chasing away the pain. There was no pain associated with that deep, mellow voice. Only happiness and laughter. Follow the voice; put your trust in the man. The images of torn flesh and frayed nerve endings, the guilt he felt at his vulnerability - all these slowly receded, along with the pain and the horror.

When McQueen stopped twisting and straining, Ross knew he'd won this particular battle. However, the war was still in some doubt. Just because he'd chased away the memories of the POW camp, didn't mean they couldn't come back to haunt his friend. Ross decided to try something a little different. If you could direct your dreaming, why not direct your hallucinations as well? It couldn't hurt to try a little experiment - all that was required was a little time and effort on his part. And he wasn't going anywhere. "Do you remember, Ty? That 4th-of-July picnic. It was hotter than Hades that year. Do you remember? We went to visit my family ..."



Glen wondered why he always got stuck with cooking the burgers on these Fourth of July shindigs. Louisiana was always hot and humid in the summer, and slaving over a hot barbecue pit did not improve his situation at all. Ross grinned as he wiped his face with a towel for the umpteenth time. He knew what his family would say - that since he was so very rarely at home, he should welcome the opportunity to help out. It's not as if they would say out loud that it was penance for his many absences!

Most of the town of Metairie seemed to be here in the park today. Ross looked around for McQueen, hoping that he was enjoying himself. Or at any rate, hoping that he wasn't lurking behind some bush - being civil to a horde of strangers was not a McQueen trait. It had seemed like a good idea back at base. He'd just wanted Ty to experience a little slice of normal life.

When he finally spotted his friend, Ross had to duck behind the barbecue pit - either that or choke on the laughter that threatened to overwhelm him. His evil wife L'Tonya had coerced McQueen into helping out at the baby corral. Ty was heading in three directions at once, attempting to keep three rambunctious and intensely curious babies from their self-appointed rounds.

From the grin on Ty's face, Ross deduced that he was having the time of his life - until, that is, one of his charges landed on his well-padded rear and proceeded to wail at the top of his lungs. The panic-stricken look that replaced McQueen's smile sent Ross ducking behind the pit again.

L'Tonya strolled over to see what the damage was. "It's all right, my dear. Tyler's teething, and it's making him a little grumpy." She took McQueen's hand and gently rubbed his finger over the problem area. "See - this little bump on his gums? The tooth is starting to erupt."

The look of awe on McQueen's face was quickly followed by a grimace of pain. "Erupt? That sounds horrible. No wonder he's so upset." L'Tonya didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. There were so many things Ty didn't know about - mostly just the little, everyday things. Babies were foreign territory to McQueen.

For educational and therapeutic purposes, L'Tonya took a small piece of ice out of the chest and wrapped it in a towel. "Here, let the baby chew on this awhile. The cold will ease the ache and improve his disposition." And, like magic, the crying stopped as the baby suckled gratefully on the homemade analgesic.

Ross didn't want to miss any more of this; he decided to be up close and personal while Ty was initiated into the mysteries of babyhood. He therefore allowed his cousin Fred to take over the cooking while he took a much-needed beer break. Ross sat down beside his friend and smiled at the sight of McQueen holding the now-contented baby.

Their quiet conversation was interrupted when one of Ross' second cousins (once removed) came up and stationed himself between the two men. His solemn, ten-year-old face was creased in thought as he asked, "Why is your belly button on your neck?"

Instead of the angry, impatient response Ross half-expected, McQueen turned to the young boy with a smile. Ty would never refuse aid to a fellow seeker of knowledge. "As a matter of fact, I have two belly buttons. I've got one right here, the same place as Tyler. I needed it for the same reason as Tyler did, while he was growing inside his mother. The other one became functional after I was moved to a bigger tank - I needed it for neural stimulation."

When Ross shook his head slightly, McQueen understood that his answer had been a bit too technical for the youngster. He tried again. "You discover the world around you from your senses. You see with your eyes, hear with your ears, feel with your fingers. That's how you gather information - which stimulates your brain cells and makes you smarter. When I was your age, I was floating unconscious in a fluid-filled tank. Not the best environment to keep my brain busy. So they tried to duplicate what you take for granted through a neural implant - where my neck navel is now. That's why I have two bellybuttons - I needed them at different times."

Totally satisfied, young William went off to share this fascinating information with his cousins. Ross turned an approving look on McQueen. "Exactly right, Ty. Children are the most direct and honest creatures around. Curious about everything and absolutely fearless in their quest for answers. Some people make the mistake of talking down to them, though - which can be fatal. They don't enjoy being treated like fools."

"I found his directness refreshing - usually I get sidelong looks and whispers. It made a nice change. I like your family - all of them. Especially the younger ones. I never knew that babies already had their own personalities. They're all individuals - even at this young age. It's amazing."

"Ty, do you mind if I ask you something?" McQueen sent Ross one of his Ask-Away looks. "Do you remember anything from those six years you spent in the tank? You told William that you were unconscious all that time, but did you ever dream?"

McQueen paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. He wanted to answer his friend as precisely - and as truthfully - as he could. "Do you remember anything that happened to you before you were two or three years old?" Ross shook his head. "I think it's the same thing with me. I have no memories of that time; if I dreamed, I don't remember. My body was growing too fast; my brain was changing too quickly. Nothing from that time seems to have stuck."

Glen nodded his head, as satisfied as young William had been with his answer. The long, lazy afternoon stretched out before them, with no fear and no alarms and no dreadful life-and-death decisions to mar the tranquility and the beauty. And the peace.


Ross awoke to the present with a jerk. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep. Granted he was exhausted, but still ... When he looked over at McQueen, however, he thankfully saw that Ty was awake and alert and in his right mind. Of course, he looked about as exhausted as Glen felt, but it was definitely an improvement. "Hey, there, Ty. I think we did it, son. I think we pulled it off."

McQueen's smile was a little tired, but it was still a smile. "I was just remembering. That day in the park back on Earth. The first time I met your family. Those babies. They were so small and so helpless - and so mischievous. Do you remember?"

Ross had to shut his eyes very tightly and swallow the huge lump that had suddenly surfaced in his throat. "I remember, Ty. I remember it well."

The End


The fifth and last book of this series is also avaliable at this site.

Next : A Nebulan Triangle

Paula Higgins
© 1996