Wounds Still Linger (1/?)
Title: Wounds Still Linger
Ship: Guzman/Mira, Skye/Carter, Wash/Taylor
Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance
Rated: PG
Word Count: 1994
Summary: Continuation of ‘Plead.’ News about Lt. Washington makes its way to Taylor through an unlikely source, one the colony has a difficult time welcoming back with open arms.
-----
The room quiets into hushed whispers and then falls into complete silence as she crosses the threshold into Taylor’s office. She possesses an almost regal bearing. Her demeanor one of power, of authority, despite holding very little at the moment.
As a former enemy, she is regarded with disdain. Soldiers are still on alert at her presence (and that of every Sixer in the colony). If the response by all those currently in the room had not made her hyper aware of her low station in Terra Nova, that people parted from the vicinity at her approach and gave her dirty looks while out and about left little doubt. She was a pariah, it’s been made perfectly clear to her since she’d stepped foot inside the gates no more than thirty-six hours ago.
She responds with a look of defiance. Meets the eyes of every soldier bold enough to meet hers. There is very little that frightens her and this blatant display of aggression fails to provoke her. After years of facing carnivorous reptiles, the dangers of the jungle and Lucas Taylor, their bravado does nothing more that elicit the urge to laugh. She is not one to care of others opinions.
Her sight settles on the reason for her visit, runs over the older man behind his desk before she addresses him. “I’d like to speak to you in private.”
Taylor nods, dismisses his men. She takes a step closer to the desk as the occupants file quietly out of the room. A more careful perusal of his person lets her know that he’s sleep deprived, weighed down. His normally perfect posture is absent, a slight slouch of the shoulders in its place. But she’s here to deliver good news and upon hearing the door click shut she proceeds with her endeavor.
“I, we, have reason to believe that Lt. Washington is alive.”
He straightens and rises in quick succession. His eyes wide, disbelieving, irises a stormy blue. He looks at her with something akin to hope before it is quickly replaced with suspicion and anger. He stands in close proximity to her after he makes his way out from behind his desk.
“I saw Lucas shoot her at point blank range. There’s no possibility she survived that.” His voice is low but the intensity of his emotions is not lost to her.
She meets his gaze. “I know. But we’ve come across information that tells us otherwise.”
A shuddering breath echoes in the office before he continues, “if this is some sick joke you--”
“It’s not. Believe me when I say that Carter and I’ve debated over whether or not to bring this to your attention. But if there is even the smallest chance that the lieutenant is alive, I’d never forgive myself for doing nothing.” It’s true. She’s been an accomplice to destruction long enough. It was time for her and her people to make amends.
Taylor takes a minute to compose himself, rubs his face with his hands before he looks at her again, hope returning once more. “How did you come across this information?”
“We have a contact inside the Phoenix Group.”
“Who? I thought all the Sixers left with you or Carter.”
“It’s not a Sixer. It’s one of their own. Young kid. Got in over his head apparently.”
Her continued explanation is interrupted by a quick knock on the door and the entrance of his current second-in-command.
“Sir. I’m here to update as requested.” He glances in her direction. “But I can check back in a couple of minutes.”
“No, Guz. You need to hear this.”
The man closes the door behind him and stands next to his commander, away from her. She notes his cold behavior, isn’t the least bit surprised, especially after the other night, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Kid came to me before I left. Said he thought Lucas had someone of importance hidden away in some secret location, away from the main encampment. A woman.”
“How do you know this isn’t one of Lucas’ elaborate schemes?” Taylor questions. Isaac picks up quickly on the conversation, surprise clearly evident on his face.
“I don’t. Didn’t. Told him I wanted proof.”
“How do you stay in contact?” asks Isaac, his eyes searching hers.
She reaches into her pocket and presents a silver electronic gadget, no bigger than the size of her palm. “Kid gave me this. It’s on a secret frequency. Made contact about an hour ago to tell me he got what I wanted. But it’s you who needs to verify,” she directs to Taylor.
“Verify what exactly?”
“The serial number from her dog tags.” She reads off the numbers from memory and watches the man’s eyes light up with each digit.
“This could still be a ruse.” Isaac mentions, wary of his commander’s response. He has to play the devil’s advocate, tread with caution.
“I’ve seen him around. The men treat him like a servant. He’s no more than a water boy. Desperate. He’s risking a lot to --”
“I stand by my statement. You and you’re Sixers don’t exactly have the cleanest track record. I don’t trust you.” His jaw is clenched as he steps towards her. This had turned personal within seconds.
“Guz.” Taylor reprimands and settles a hand on his shoulder. He steps back in line before she continues.
“I’ve checked with Malcolm about the communicator. He confirms that it’s clean. Other than that, I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Taylor turns from them and paces the floor. His face does little to reveal the churning’s of his mind. All the while, Isaac doesn’t look away from her. Smoldering does little to describe his expression but she doesn’t break as much as she wants to. After their last interaction, she doesn’t blame him for hating her, holds little hope that she’ll ever be forgiven. She’s beginning to make peace with it.
“Mira, I want all details each time you communicate with your man on the inside. We need to gather information, strategize, figure out how exactly to get her out of there.” She nods in response. “No more secrets.” He punctuates the statement by stretching out his right hand, waiting for her to take it.
She replies as she shakes his hand, “you have my word.”
-----
The air is crisp as she walks away form the command center and towards her unit, the one she shares with Carter until arrangements are made for the new inhabitants. As she continues along the path, she briefly closes her eyes and savors the moment, careful not to trip on the newly built walk path. It’s something that she hadn’t been able to do in three years. Closing your eyes while out in the jungle was hazardous. Stupid. Even within their home among the trees. Her ears pick up the sound of rapid and heavy footsteps approaching her, purposely made noisily to alert her of their presence.
“I heard you coming a mile away, Guzman.” She mentions as she continues walking. He stops in front of her, halting any further progression.
“I didn’t mean to make it personal back there.” He comments, not in the least proud of letting his emotions get in the way of his professionalism.
“Yes, you did. Don’t worry about it.” She moves to her right to side step him and continue home but he mimics her movements, hindering her once again.
“Mira.” The way he says her name makes her look up at him instead of over his shoulder. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting but it wasn’t the following words.
“If this is --”
Her face hardens, returns to the perpetual scowl she usually wears before replying, “you mistake my intentions.”
She walks away, leaving him alone, attempting to conceal the disappointment on her face.
-----
The smell of pancakes wafts to her as she steps inside her temporary home. It leads her to the kitchen where she finds Skye drizzling syrup over a short stack. She’s clearly caught off guard when she looks up and sees her and she self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Morning, Mira.”
She fights the urge to smirk at her uneasiness and the fact that Carter’s shirt hits her further down than mid thigh. “Morning, Tate.”
An awkward silence reins while Skye reaches into a cabinet and hands her a plate. “Please help yourself.”
She nods her thanks as she listens to the girl, obviously nervous, talk about how much she loves pancakes and then proceed to how she lost a bet to Carter last night. At this she quickly interrupts.
“Too much information. You’ve been spending too much time with Carter.”
“Did someone say my name?” The man in question waltzes in (there really is no other word to describe it), shirtless and with a grin on his face.
“Speak of the devil,” she says in jest. As she sees him lean into Skye, the tender expressions being exchanged between the two she can’t help but feel melancholy. She loves Carter and wishes nothing but the best for her friend and the young girl who earned her admiration (something she should tell her one day) but she can’t wait until she has a place to herself.
She makes her way to the breakfast table and sits down, facing away from their direction to give them privacy and to spare herself. She had thought she’d made peace with the mess she made with Isaac. Moments like these remind her she hasn’t.
The scrape of chairs and clink of silverware and dishes on the table pull her out of her thoughts and she sees Skye and Carter sit down as well. He sets a glass of juice next to her while giving her one of his looks.
“I would’ve gone with you.” He says, taking a bite afterwards.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” She avoids his gaze, something she rarely does, and continues to cut her pancakes into bite sized squares.
“How did it go?” Another bite.
“Fine. Considering.” Drizzles heavy syrup on her stack.
“So they assumed it was a ploy.” Chuckles a bit. “Of course they did.”
They eat in silence for a while. After he finishes his pancakes, he always was a fast eater, he lets out a loud “hey” when Skye smacks his hand as he tries to steal some food off her plate.
Carter turns back to her as he rubs his hand. “What’s the plan?”
“Taylor wants us to keep him informed. Move on from there.” She finally takes a bite out of her own stack of pancakes after meticulously cutting and arranging the squares on her plate. They’re delicious.
“Ran into Guzman?” He asks, knowing about what happened in the training room.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah.” He replies as he takes his fork and spears some squares off her plate.
“Carter! Just get up and get some more.” Skye yells exasperated.
“I’m helping her finish. They’ll just get soggy if she takes any longer to eat.”
It’s obvious to her that Carter is just egging her on and while she enjoys the distraction their bickering offers, she still loses herself in her thoughts. She knows it’s going to be an arduous process, rebuilding ties, connections, roots, but as she looks at what’s going on in the dining room, she can’t help but smile.
She rises from her seat to wash her dishes. Hears Carter tell Skye that the pancakes were only half of the deal. Shakes her head when the makes out Skye’s outraged “Carter” when he begins to remind her in detail about the rest. Once again, too much information. These two are going to drive her insane but she tells herself that she’d have it no other way.
“One day at a time,” she whispers to no one in particular as she leaves them alone and makes her way to her room.
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