A small ficlet insert between betaing the last story and starting the next one. 

Lucia grew up at some point this year and started demanding her own stories, so this is me trying to comply just a wee bit.

I’m thinking this takes place about 7-8 years before ‘No Half Measures’, my other Lucia ficlet.  If you want a full Lucia fic, you’ll have to go back to when she was five in ‘Fathers Christmas’  :)

Monsters

by Ithildin
c. 2006


Some of Lucia's earliest memories were of her father watching her mother while she played on the floor between them.  Sometimes, her mother would sense his regard and look up from the datapad or book she was reading with a smile and look of her own. Other times, she didn’t notice, and he would watch her, the book he was reading or the journal he was writing in, lying forgotten on his lap. As Lucia grew older, she began to understand those looks between her parents, recognized the glint of possessiveness in her father’s eyes, the love and acceptance in her mother’s. Instinctively she knew that for her mother, Methos would move heaven and earth to protect her ­ even from herself.  And that was how Lucia knew there would be no daring rescue in her future. He would never let Triona risk herself on some foolhardy attempt to rescue her daughter from her current predicament.  Though Methos had taken on the role of Lucia’s father, he wasn’t, not really. If it came to a choice between Triona or Triona’s daughter, Lucia knew exactly what that choice would be. There were times, when she was feeling particularly sorry for herself, that she’d wonder if he would even remember her face a thousand years or two from now.  How many children had he been a father to over the millennia? And how many did he actually recall?

“Stop it!” she screamed into the dark. The fears and doubts that were easily dealt with in the full light of day were growing to nightmare proportions here in this solitary blackness. She was acting like a child, expecting her parents to rescue her, doubting their love for her. But that was how she felt after days alone in the dark cell, the only light some sort of phosphorescent growth on the ceilings and walls, with no idea if any other member of the crew had survived the attack that had decimated her Away Team.  Her injured right arm throbbed painfully and hung practically useless at her side, competing with the sharp nauseating pain in her head. At this moment, she felt more like a terrified five-year-old than a newly minted Starfleet second lieutenant. 

As the uncounted hours had passed, she’d found herself drawing comfort from memories of her childhood. Her parents, and their friends, had always seemed larger than life to her growing up, and an extended loving family had always surrounded her, with people constantly coming and going, always with time for a little girl with a thousand questions. There had never been any doubt in Lucia’s mind that she could be or do anything she wanted. Though she loved all her parents, and they her, it had always been Methos’ approval she’d sought. Looking back, she realized he’d always treated her like a grownup.  Had always had the same expectations of her no matter how old she’d been.  How she wished she’d told him how much that had meant to her. Now, there was a very good chance she’d never get to tell anyone she loved anything ever again.  All she wanted right now was to hear her mother’s voice, to feel her hand running over her hair, telling her it was just a bad dream and that everything was going be all right.  Then Methos would open all the closets and peer under her bed, scaring away the monsters that hid there with curses from some long dead language.  Lucia had always giggled at that point and he would tweak her nose and tell her that there were no monsters in the galaxy that could withstand a good old-fashioned cursing.

Lucia huddled farther into the corner of the cell, shivering. Her torn uniform was little protection against the chill and damp, and her injuries were taking their toll on her physically and mentally.  “Daddy, make the monsters go away,” she whispered as she slipped into unconsciousness.


End



End Bits: I have notes for a fic that is about this incident, except from the POV of Methos and Triona. It has yet to be written, but this small part from Lucia’s perspective sort of coalesced in my mind at lunch today.

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