Wounds Still Linger (5/7)
Title: Wounds Still Linger
Ship: Guzman/Mira, Skye/Carter, Wash/Taylor
Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance
Rated: PG
Word Count: 2528
Summary: Advice is often unwanted despite the good intentions of those who give it.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
-----
The sound of knuckles rapping on her front door reaches her in the bedroom, faint and timid in nature as if the individual is hoping not to be heard.
She’s had her share of visitors since her release from the clinic, much to Dr. Shannon’s chagrin. Elisabeth had insisted on a few more days of observation but the white walls and fluorescent lights were driving her mad.
What she remembered of her stay, feverish dreams fueled by a seemingly never ending cycle of sedatives and pain killers, made her certain that she’d much rather leave the austere facility and continue her recovery at home. Day and night had bled into each other, only the faint sound of voices kept her tethered to the world when she had preferred to lose herself to the darkness.
Her wound had been exacerbated by the trek to the rover, pulling open as she and Carter had made their way through the uneven terrain. She doesn’t remember much about the events after they reached the vehicle, the blood loss having made her lose consciousness but she did recall Carter bargaining with her moments before her blackout, asking her to hold on. That he’d owe her big time.
And the guilt she’s come to feel about seeing that look of anguish on his face hasn’t left her since. So reminiscent of another’s. She’s been nothing but a disappointment to the two most important men in her life.
Sighing, Mira set aside the paperback she’d been reading while lounging on her bed and made her way through her home to answer her mystery visitor. Surprise fails to adequately describe the way she feels the moment the door opens to reveal the person on the other side.
“Tasha,” is all she is capable of uttering in way of greeting. Not once had she crossed paths with the youth since her return to the colony.
The girl stands there as if caught in headlights, body halfway turned and ready to take leave before determination sets in and she’s met with the mocha gaze of Isaac’s daughter.
“Can I come in?” Her voice is strong and makes it clear there is a very important reason for her presence on her porch in the late afternoon. The sky is a clear blue, the sun high in the sky, the leaves in the trees swaying to and fro with the gusts of wind.
She steps back to make room for the teenager and closes the door quietly, following her guest into the living room. She offers her something to drink but is quickly refused.
“I don’t like you,” are her words.
“Always did admire honesty,” Mira replies without missing a beat, the raise of an amused eyebrow the only sign she had been affected in any way by the young woman’s admittance.
“But it wasn’t always that way.” Tasha takes a seat on the couch and stays quiet as she waits for her to do the same.
“Why did you do those things?” Her voice isn’t accusing, just baffled. “You loved him. At least I thought you did.”
She did. Even after all these years. More so if it was possible.
“You had a good reason? Right?”
She did have a good reason.
Taking a moment to collect herself, a bit startled by the question no one had ever asked before without expecting a specific answer, having already formed an idea in their head, she looks at Tasha as she responds. “I did it for my daughter.”
“You have a daughter?” This time it is the young woman with hair so like her father’s turn to be surprised.
“One I’d do anything for.”
-----
Wash sat behind the desk buried in paperwork. To the untrained observer it would seem her complete attention was solely on the requisition forms but a trained veteran could see that her mind was wandering. It was the way she reclined in the chair, the pen in her right hand twirling between her fingers as her eyes quickly scanned through the contents on the document (as opposed to leaning lightly to her right while reading, the pen lying on the desk while unused).
Still prohibited form engaging in the more physically demanding tasks of her job, she was forced to sit out while Nathaniel and Shannon left the colony to investigate the disturbances reported by Outpost Four. With it’s location south of Terra Nova and farther still from the Badlands, they had all assumed it was more likely due to some sort of animal migration, at least according to Malcolm.
As she settles again in her chair, attempting in vain to concentrate at the task at hand, the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor serves as a reprieve. She sets aside the paper in her hands as Guzman lands a knock on the door and steps into the Commander’s office.
“Lieutenant,” he says stopping in front of the dinosaur desk clad in his fatigues and armor, a weapon on his hip.
“Nothing out of the ordinary during patrol I’m assuming?” While Alicia had always enjoyed morning patrols (as much for watching the sunrise as for spending time with Nathaniel), the evening one she was more than willing let others handle.
And Guz had eagerly taken on the additional responsibility. She had refrained from commenting on his newfound earnestness in throwing himself into work.
“None whatsoever. Although Carter did point out a weak spot along the eastern perimeter of the fence.” He says with clear signs of irritation. Can’t decide if it’s because security had considered the colony impenetrable due to the upgrades done after the occupation or because it had taken a former Sixer to point out a fault in their revised system.
“He made it a point to say that perhaps some of his people should make an attempt at penetrating the gates as a sort of exercise. Put the upgrades to the test.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she admits. “Gotta hand it to those Sixers. They know what they’re talking about. We never found their main camp but they sure as hell managed to infiltrate the colony one time too many.”
As she looks at her colleague, her friend, she becomes acutely aware that perhaps speaking about former Sixers isn’t a suitable conversation topic but as much as she’d like to spare him some discomfort, doing so would be enabling him.
In avoiding the dire need to address his feelings he’d done nothing but fill his days with work, foregoing as much time off as he could manage. He’d been spotted at Boylan’s bar the last couple of nights after Taylor had forced him to take some down time. There were only two things one did in a dark corner of the bar - drink and drown in your own thoughts. He’d managed a find a fine balance between the two.
“Guz, have you talked to her?”
His eyes blaze for a quick second, a warning for her to stop, to leave him be but she pushes forward despite it. She rises from her seat and walks around the desk to stand in front of him and places a hand on his shoulder.
“I know this hasn’t been easy for you but you need to get this out in the open or it’ll eat you alive. You need to talk to her. Sort everything out. Get some sort of closure.”
He battles with himself, debating whether or not he should confide in her. Usually preferring to keep these things to himself (not that its helped in the past). “W--”
The sound of voices and feet climbing the stairs to the command center causes him to pause. A herd of scientists, with Malcolm leading them, enter the office, all quickly vying for her attention. She hears Guz clear his throat before excusing himself, biding her good night.
The thought that she needed to talk to Malcolm about his disruptive impromptu meetings crosses her mind as his eager face breaks into her periphery and she watches Guz walk out of the room.
-----
Carter had jokingly told her that she had nine lives.
It’s not something she likes to think about. All the times she’s been near death. Not anymore anyway. She used to laugh it off when she was younger. The adrenaline rush, the feeling of invincibility propelling her into increasingly dangerous situations but that had quickly changed when she became a mother and Sienna her world.
Her foolhardy expedition to confront Lucas notwithstanding of course. Her despair at losing her only way back home had blinded her, compelled her to proceed with her “half-assed plan” as Carter had so adamantly described it.
She apologized wholeheartedly to him during one of his visits to the clinic. She had placed him in danger and that was unacceptable. Unforgivable despite him having done so but he had insisted on “hugging it out” afterwards and to move on from there.
A soft laugh escaped her at the memory as she made her way down the familiar path as as some people walked past.
The night was chilly and she regretted not bringing her jacket. As she turned the corner she folds her arms across her chest in an attempt to preserve some heat.
She’d been in the habit of going to bed early the last couple of days. Found herself feeling drained even after the most simple task. Had been going stir crazy inside the walls of her compound. (Her visitors and companionable dinners with Carter and Skye the only thing that broke through the monotony.) Sleep the only reprieve.
But Tasha’s visit had been on her mind the entire day and wouldn’t let her sleep, forcing her out of bed.
Things had gone...well. As well as things could go considering. The girl had asked questions and she had answered them truthfully. When she responded in the affirmative to the inquiry about still loving her father she had gone quiet. The nerve wrecking moment of silence ended when Tasha continued on, leaving after giving her a piece of advice.
“Have you told him all of this?”
“I tried. He won’t listen.”
“Try harder.”
She slows her pace as his unit comes into view and suddenly her confidence dwindles. Carter had told her that Isaac had visited her. That he had spent that first night after their return at her bedside. That he hadn’t returned remained unsaid however.
Squaring her shoulders, she walks to the door and knocks.
It goes unanswered.
-----
He knew he’d find him here. Not that the lieutenant had many options. Sees him in the back, his back towards him, drink in hand. Highly doubts that the man is drunk. He knows how to read people, is quite talented at it, and reasons that a man such as Guzman is too uptight to ever allow himself to lose control and fall into such a state.
There is an art to finding a middle ground. When you stop feeling the burn you’d gone too far. If the burn retains its kick you haven’t gone far enough.
He heads in his direction, ordering a drink for himself on the way and slides into the empty chair at his table. “Looks like you could use a friend.”
Guzman lifts his head at that, annoyance clearly written on his face. “Not in the mood, Carter.”
He leans back in his chair, lifts his arms to fold his hands behind his head. “It couldn’t hurt. Besides, drinking alone is just sad.”
The lieutenant does not react to his attempt at levity. “When has that stopped you?”
Carter lets out a loud laugh as he drops his arms onto the table. “You got me there.”
Guzman lets out an exasperated sigh as he rubs the bridge of his nose, willing away the oncoming headache. Whether from the alcohol or the brazen man with the ever present smirk he doesn’t know. “What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?”
His face becomes serious, lacks any signs of the previous humor it held as he says, “I just want to have a drink with a friend.” A tumbler is placed in front of him by the Josh Shannon seconds after, emphasizing his point to the man.
“One drink.” It’s not a question.
“One drink,” he confirms.
Neither speak and they both lift the tumbler to their lips and the sounds of the bar reaches their ears. Soldiers laughing, playfully arguing over a game of cards, joking with each other, letting off steam, coming from every corner.
He takes a good look at the man. Decides that now is as good a time as ever. “You haven’t gone back.”
There was no need to elaborate further. They both knew what he was referring to. Guzman sets his jaw before reigning back control of his emotions, a blank mask falling over his features.
“Haven’t had the time.”
“You find time for this.”
While his face does nothing to give him away, the tone of his voice does. “I’m done,” is said roughly.
“Yet your actions tell me otherwise.” He takes another drink.
All pretenses vanish and the head of security unleashes his opinion on the matter vehemently. “It’s none of your business.”
Carter remains calm and continues. “It is. Just a little.”
He shifts in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of things. And who could blame him. During the time that Mira had taken up with Guzman, he had gone out of his way to irritate the man. Never really seeing the point of creating a friendship when he knew how things would play out.
“Would you forgive her? After everything that’s happened?”
The vulnerability he hears in the question startles him a moment. Never believing that Guzman would open up him after everything that transpired.
“I’d listen to what she had to say. Go from there.”
“I’m assuming you already know everything.”
“Yeah.” There was no reason to lie.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
He was a stubborn man. One step forward and two steps back.
“We both know you’re not that kind of guy.”
“Maybe I am,” is said as a bit of a challenge. Said that way to perhaps try to get himself to believe his own lie.
Carter sighs. “No, you’re not. If you were, you’d have moved on with someone else a long time ago. You wouldn’t give a damn about her.”
“I’m just so angry.”
They finally arrive at the truth. The simple truth. He’s angry. He was dealt a shitty hand. Can’t help but feel for the man. Can’t imagine the pain that went along with everything he and Mira had experienced.
“And you have every right to be but you have to know that this wasn’t easy for her either. She’s gone through her fair share of shit too.” He does his best to remain impartial to either side.
“Anything else?” It’s a dismissal if he’s ever heard one.
“She really does love you.”
And with a final swig of his drink, he places some terras on the table, paying for the both of them and takes his leave.
-----