Terra Nova - Things Lost in the Fire ch5 [Skye/Lucas]
Title: Things Lost in the Fire
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 5/?
Summary: Pre-Series. AU story. Skye meets a strange man at Snakehead Falls and ends up falling in love. But can happiness built on anonymity last, when the world around them is on fire?
Author's Note: I just love writing Lucas. I could probably make a fic just writing about the 5 years he spent alone in the jungle, and be perfectly content. I won't though. There are limits even to my obsession.
Things Lost in the Fire
5. Welcome to the family
The jungle was loud; it throbbed under his skin, beckoning him. He moved through the brushwood almost without sound, accustomed to the tricky terrain that was eager to reveal his position to every living creature in the near-by area. His blood was pumping with excitement, distraction. It was all leading to a kill, the thrill was almost as good as the pleasure she gave him, just almost.
Lucas gripped the handle his knife, careful not to shine its blade when he withdrew it. The creature hadn't noticed him yet, and should he have his way, it wouldn't until it was too late. His brain was silent, everything rejected but his most primitive desires, the animal side. He stalked his prey patiently, something he was rarely able to do with other things, but he knew the laws of the jungle by now; he had the scars to remind him of the times he'd been too hasty.
How had that sensitive boy his father had exiled into the woods five years ago become this way? He'd enjoyed civilization once, basking in the comforts his intelligence had provided him with, until his father had dragged him with him to this hell. The heat, the sun, the wildlife - Everything was chaos in this paradise, living and breathing. He'd hated it, desired the dead world he'd left behind and its predictable safety. But the jungle had shed his skin, forged him anew. That soft boy was gone, replaced by a man hardened by the extreme conditions.
He no longer had any intention of returning to 2149. Not in the middle of the slumbering, who knew nothing of survival of the fittest. The weak were crushed, and the future would've been a different place if it weren't for the weakness of people, their desire for constant peace. It was peace that had torn the world apart little by little.
Then he heard her, soft thumps behind him, and he bit his lip to quench an irritated sigh, as his prey was also alerted by the sound and chose to shift, move closer to the protection of its herd. Lucas shot Mira with a blaming look, not bothering to explain how her carelessness had cost him his opportunity. He figured it was pretty evident - no reason to waste his breath.
Mira observed him with worry though, squatted a little further from him, something clearly on her mind. Her long hair was gathered on little braids that followed the shape of her skull and tied together on a long bundle. Her attire was dirty, her cheeks flushed from the exercise and heat, her breathing thick. But she had cleaned her face from war paint, given up the accessories she'd made from her trophies, and her expression was softer.
"You're different," she finally said, choosing to voice her suspicions.
Lucas didn't care about her observations, he cared about the hunt. But it was obvious now that Mira had lured her here in order to talk in private. She sometimes suffered from the misconception that they ran a democracy, or that she had any say in the decision he made. He understood it was frustrating to let power slip through one's fingers, and that she was the only one with the courage to stand against him, but quite frankly she wasn't paid to do that.
"I'm not sure what you would like me to respond," Lucas mumbled, sheathing his knife in disappointment. He breathed in deep, hoping that he could signal her to leave by ignoring her, but she never did. Mira was the one person amongst his troops, who had to keep pushing him.
"You always treat us like some nuisance standing in your way. But lately you've been on an unusually good mood. You even help out back at the camp these days," she explained, her voice shifting to a regular conversational tone. Mira only acted like queen bitch when she needed to, Lucas knew as much. She'd shaped herself into the fierce Amazon in the wild, who rode into his father's city fearlessly, but she returned she was herself again: just a poor woman doing what she had to for her kid.
He didn't want to be friends with her though, never had and never would. But one had to adjust on the razor's edge, even if it meant tolerating the likes of her. Besides he understood how the conditions here weathered you, and whenever his work didn't need his time and attention, he liked doing something with his hands: building, carrying, and hunting. The Sixers survived with what they could get their hands on, just like Lucas had. He didn't have particular affection for them, but he didn't hate them either.
Lucas turned to meet her eyes, trying to push his frustration for her aside and silence her with as little conversation as possible. He laid his hands on his knees, squatted in the bushes, hidden from prying eyes.
"I have my reasons to be a good mood recently, Mira," he told her, as if speaking to a child. Lucas hated explaining himself; it was nothing but a waste of time. "All my plans are coming to an end, and with it, hopefully, the need to consort with the likes of you."
There was actual cheerfulness in him when he spoke to her; however, his words were like the thorns of a rose, sharp and prickling. Mira paid no heed though; she was quite used to his poisonous attitude and arrogance. The thing was that she realized he wasn't acting like a complete bastard these past few months, like something had mellowed him. It puzzled her, filled her with anxiety.
"It's not that," she told him, conviction shining through her confident voice. "It's because of her."
With one word she managed to eradicate his false cheerfulness and bring about the dangerous, short-tempered Lucas Taylor she knew. Lucas responded physically to her words, his body tensing right down to the chords on his neck. The difference was visible, his eyes shone dangerously.
"I would pick my next words wisely if I were you," Lucas settled to note, his voice colder than before. Mira watched as he wiped the drops of perspiration that dangled in his hair to the sleeve of his shirt calmly, choosing not to stare her down. His words hung in the air ominously though, she knew she'd hit him at a soft spot.
Of course he hadn't said a word about it, how he'd met her the first time. But it was obvious he treated her differently. Some months ago Lucas had actually asked about her mother, requested that they treat her better. Mira had considered he might have had a soft spot for the suffering woman, she'd seen him pay attention to her when he'd come by the camp before, but seeing him with her yesterday had proved that theory false.
The Lucas Taylor she knew wasn't a soft-speaking man. He didn't plead from anyone for anything. The way he'd spoken to Skye though, it had been different, genuine - Like he had shown his true colors to her and only her.
"I'm worried," she confessed, leaning against a tree trunk behind her for some support. He wasn't fooled by her relaxed stance though, he could tell she had a weapon at an arm's length, that she was ready to act should he alert her in any way.
"She's not one of us, and yet you trust her with everything," Mira then continued, observing how he reacted to her words this time.
But he really didn't. Lucas knew deep inside that the equation of their relationship didn't quite balance out, that he needed to keep things from her, and introduce them little by little. He had to protect her, his fragile little sister, so that the world would not run her down the same way it had done to him. It made him a bastard, of course, but the price for truth would've been too high.
"Trust is earned," Lucas hissed, inching closer to her and abandoning his post in the process. "Do you think you've earned mine?"
The question was unsettling to Mira, who'd rallied the Sixers together after things had started going south in Terra Nova quickly after their arrival. She'd risen to the occasion, taken leadership when no one else would. She'd withstood Lucas' company, his insults and mood swings. She'd stood against Taylor, carving out victories from whatever she was given. And yet he trusted that girl more?
"She'll betray you, Lucas," she said, hostility gone from her voice and only genuine worry left. Lucas was quite surprised to recognize it there, but it was clear. She was older than he was, a maternal leader masking as a tyrant, while he expected fear rather than love from his subordinates. She'd been seeking for something to penetrate his walls for years now.
"Don't worry Mira," Lucas smirked, letting go of the irritation she'd made him feel. For once he attempted to brush away the direct way she'd just insulted him to his face, and respond with kindness instead. "You'll be with your bastard child soon enough, I promise," he then finished. In Mira's book, it was pretty much the closest she'd get to a compliment or a caring word with him.
But it didn't calm her mind, or reassure anything. He avoided her inquiries, approached Skye Tate with care. Mira saw the hint of weakness generally as a good thing; it proved he wasn't the sociopath she'd once taken him for. However, since the object of his newly-found affection was Skye Tate, it raised problems.
Mira gave her the cold shoulder she gave everyone, but she didn't like using a young girl's love for her mother to her advantage. She'd hoped for something better to come along, free her from having to rely on Skye. These past three years had been so rough on that girl; Mira feared she'd collapse under the pressure. Now she was certain the girl would break, and her weakness would drive Lucas crazy.
"She will never hurt Terra Nova," Mira responded after a moment of silence, hoping to get him to see the light, to realize he was blinded.
Lucas didn't respond he simply turned around slowly, scanning their surroundings before he stood up. It was like he was refusing to listen. Then she recognized his blank expression, the kind that was always followed by boiling rage, an eruption of emotion. Mira stood up with un-steady feet, hoping for the best and fearing for the worst, which is exactly what she got.
Lucas spun into motion, darting at her, and tossing her down on the ground. She fell with a thump, pain flooding her senses, forcing her to struggle with controlling her body. But then she already felt him slam his knee against her chest, the blow releasing the air from her lungs, alongside with a cry. He used his knee to press his weight on top of her, pin her down, as his knife found its way to her throat. A crazy gleam in his eyes, pain reflected through-out, he stared at her.
"We are not friends," he told her, his weight pressing at her lungs, inflicting pain all over. "So the next time you think you need to get involved in my business, and I tell you to shut the fuck up, you will listen."
The cold blade hovered by her neck, not really touching her. Mira waited, her eyes pouring into his, pleading silently. Lucas held the knife tightly, and the blade nudged a little closer, and then a little closer. It grazed her skin, her eyes opening wide with shock, but he pulled the knife away before he did any real damage.
"Oh look," Lucas laughed with cruel amusement, "I suppose I am a bit different. My hand feels less stable nowadays," he said, pushing himself off her.
She groaned in pain, fighting the urge to lunge right back at him and tear his arrogant lips off his face. The lesson was learned though, she wouldn't attempt to talk to him again, not until after the girl would break his heart. Then she would make him listen, and listen well. After all, he was the reason she still had a chance to see her child again.
Lucas didn't bother to look at her squirming in the ground; he was too busy staring at his own hand, which was shaking. It wasn't a good sign for him to lose his temper over something this insignificant, even he knew that. He thought about his self-control when it came to her, how it was easier to overlook things, and how it was the stark opposite of his hyper-responsiveness now.
He'd been calmer for a long while, actually ever since he became the devil of Eden five years ago, but now with all these people around him, things were actually worse. It was harder to keep together, keep that spark from lighting. Lucas had grown accustomed to loneliness, it had healed him. But in order to be with her, he needed to be among people. And his intensity scared him as well sometimes.
He didn't apologize though, even if there was a knot of regret buried deep inside him. Apologizes had been the boy's way, always apologizing, always trying his best to make things right. Well, he couldn't make things right, so he'd do the opposite.
"Let's not talk about her again," he told her, giving an order rather than a suggestion. She could hear from his voice that he was a bit distraught. However, she knew he'd never admit it. The observation cooled down her a bit, strengthened her conclusion that Lucas was changed. She didn't know what his affection for the girl had mutated him into - it was something for the better though. She could tell ruthlessness wasn't easy for him as it'd been before.
Mira pushed herself back on her feet, gathering the remnants of her pride and self-worth. She didn't feel sad, not even humiliated, though it would've been easy to hate him. She just pitied him.
"Fine," she agreed softly, burying her failure.
"Alright," he responded, regaining that calmness that had alerted her in the first place.
"We will burn down Eden soon enough," his whisper was almost sad, as if the ending of this chapter he'd longed for meant the ending of something he actually cherished.
Then he took his gun in hand, removing the safety, and set out to continue their hunt. Mira followed him warily, steeling her resolve, thinking it was all for her child. She'd take on anything to hold her again.
-
She was still curled up, face buried into her knees, leaning against the wall by her bed. Eventually the tears had dried as the cocktail of mixed emotions had become less potent, and she'd been able to stop thinking of his name. In silence it wasn't all as overwhelming, just a little sad how father and son could spin so out of control, lost in mindless conflict.
She didn't know enough to pass judgment; all she had were inklings, hunches on the cause of this. Skye sighed aloud as lifted her head and looked at the mess she'd made with her room. It didn't matter who was right and who was wrong, when the fight tore everything else around them apart. It didn't matter that she loved him, when he was asking her to destroy everything.
Skye doubted there was any room for reason here. One way or another she'd take a side, hurt someone. Her heart was divided between what was right by everyone else, and what was right by them.
Steps resounded in the kitchen, signaling her that someone had come home. Skye hoped they would not take interest in her, that they would not come to see her. But the steps approached her anyway, no matter how unwanted they were. And when the visitor reached the door, Skye turned her head to look. It was Tasha, she could tell by her slim silhouette through the sliding door. As usual she knocked first to be polite, before she pushed the door open and became a witness in this sordid case.
Tasha stared at the mess, eyes widening the further she got in the room. Skye was usually so neat; she'd never seen such disorder anywhere Skye went. Disbelief took over her, as she ventured into the room, searching for her friend, becoming more and more horrified by this proof of Skye's anger.
"Skye?" Tasha called her, rising to her toes before she realized Skye was behind the behind, staring blankly at the wall. Worry overcame her quickly; she stepped back a bit and closed the door behind her. Then Tasha circled around the bed, reaching Skye's side. "Has something happened? Are you ok?" she inquired and kneeled before her friend, seeking for eye contact.
Skye didn't really seem to notice her until now, as she found Tasha's face on the same level with her eyes. She let go off the complicated emotional burden, focusing on her friend for a change. Tasha had kneeled, her mini-shorts complimenting her beautiful legs and her top hanging loosely over her dark skin. Her expression was full of warmth, when she recognized Skye was reacting to her presence. Tasha then leaned closer and took her wordlessly into her arms. The touch was kind, it released the tension Skye had been under and she closed her eyes, sinking into this comfort.
"Was it Josh? Is he being a jerk again?" Tasha asked, her short-sightedness actually eliciting a tired burst of laughter out of Skye, who was glad she could bury her desperate expression against Tasha's shoulder. "No," Skye responded with strange amusement. "Trust me, I'd never cry over him."
It was because he lacked the ability to make her silent with just one touch. He didn't speak to her like she was the reason he breathed. Being without him did not give her this kind of despair. So no, Josh could never hold her heart, when Lucas had already snatched it away six months ago.
Skye pulled away, wiping off the traces of her tears to the back of her hand while Tasha looked at her with concern, trying to find reason with her friend's behavior. Skye coughed a bit, frowning as she prepared to think of something, only the lies wouldn't emerge from the depths of her mind this time.
"It doesn't matter," she eventually said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes like it was all over nothing.
"You know," Tasha tilted her head, responding to the underlying pain in Skye's voice, "No man is worth your tears."
And her words hit closer than Skye would've liked. She hurried to deny her friend's conclusions, flustered by how Tasha assumed it was over a man. "A guy? Me? Sheesh, who would I even meet here? Nah, I'm just upset over useless shit. It's nothing serious." She copied her own carefree tone the best she could, played it like her crisis was something you could fix with a band-aid.
Tasha wasn't quite convinced, but she nodded in approval, realizing Skye wasn't willing to talk about it.
"We were heading out to eat with Max's dad. I actually came by to invite you too," she said, still wary. The suggestion would've normally delighted Skye, because she liked Max's dad and it was one of the closest thing to a family dinner she had the pleasure of experiencing in Terra Nova, but this time the timing was off. Lucas was waiting for her.
"Sorry, I can't," she said with regret, "I have something else lined up. I can't wriggle out of it right now."
"Fine. But you find me if you want to talk, Skye," Tasha was being very adamant about this. In the few years they'd lived together, they had shared many things, painful and joyful alike. Speaking with Tasha was sure-fire way to get her mind back on track, to ignore her own suspicions. Tasha knew about her flings, mistakes and successes, but she knew nothing of the world she lived in as a spy, and she would've not understood if Skye had told her about Lucas.
"I promise," Skye nodded, smiling as Tasha rose to her feet and leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead.
"You take care!" she exclaimed, walking out of Skye's room, probably thinking how even Skye Tate was sometimes a complete mess over insignificant details. Skye didn't correct that false belief. She knew this conversation would eventually continue, and Tasha would extort an explanation out of her. For the first time Skye actually wondered whether she'd be here to suffer through it.
When she heard the outside door close behind Tasha some minutes later, she finally forced herself to move. She picked up the things she'd thrown, placed them back to their places, straightening her sheets, cleaning whatever she could. The simple action helped, it cleared her mind from everything unnecessary.
It was no use hiding here, hurting herself with these frantic thoughts and doubts. She needed to stay strong, remember the strength that had pulled her through the past three years. She would go to him, pry the answers she needed. Once she knew the family secrets, she'd patch things if it was still possible. Otherwise their crazy little family-unit would self-destruct, taking Terra Nova down with it.
She changed clothes, prepared for another hike into the wild. But when the time came to pack the drive, she pushed it into the depths of her drawer, hid it from herself and him. And she knew how much it meant to him, how passionate he was over his work, which was why she couldn't bring it with her. Skye didn't trust herself around him, not when he shook her world with just one touch. If he pleaded, if he begged, she would give in eventually.
But this really was the ultimate test, returning to him empty handed, seeing what he would do. Skye hated herself for it, for knowing there was no other way.
TBC
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 5/?
Summary: Pre-Series. AU story. Skye meets a strange man at Snakehead Falls and ends up falling in love. But can happiness built on anonymity last, when the world around them is on fire?
Author's Note: I just love writing Lucas. I could probably make a fic just writing about the 5 years he spent alone in the jungle, and be perfectly content. I won't though. There are limits even to my obsession.
Things Lost in the Fire
5. Welcome to the family
The jungle was loud; it throbbed under his skin, beckoning him. He moved through the brushwood almost without sound, accustomed to the tricky terrain that was eager to reveal his position to every living creature in the near-by area. His blood was pumping with excitement, distraction. It was all leading to a kill, the thrill was almost as good as the pleasure she gave him, just almost.
Lucas gripped the handle his knife, careful not to shine its blade when he withdrew it. The creature hadn't noticed him yet, and should he have his way, it wouldn't until it was too late. His brain was silent, everything rejected but his most primitive desires, the animal side. He stalked his prey patiently, something he was rarely able to do with other things, but he knew the laws of the jungle by now; he had the scars to remind him of the times he'd been too hasty.
How had that sensitive boy his father had exiled into the woods five years ago become this way? He'd enjoyed civilization once, basking in the comforts his intelligence had provided him with, until his father had dragged him with him to this hell. The heat, the sun, the wildlife - Everything was chaos in this paradise, living and breathing. He'd hated it, desired the dead world he'd left behind and its predictable safety. But the jungle had shed his skin, forged him anew. That soft boy was gone, replaced by a man hardened by the extreme conditions.
He no longer had any intention of returning to 2149. Not in the middle of the slumbering, who knew nothing of survival of the fittest. The weak were crushed, and the future would've been a different place if it weren't for the weakness of people, their desire for constant peace. It was peace that had torn the world apart little by little.
Then he heard her, soft thumps behind him, and he bit his lip to quench an irritated sigh, as his prey was also alerted by the sound and chose to shift, move closer to the protection of its herd. Lucas shot Mira with a blaming look, not bothering to explain how her carelessness had cost him his opportunity. He figured it was pretty evident - no reason to waste his breath.
Mira observed him with worry though, squatted a little further from him, something clearly on her mind. Her long hair was gathered on little braids that followed the shape of her skull and tied together on a long bundle. Her attire was dirty, her cheeks flushed from the exercise and heat, her breathing thick. But she had cleaned her face from war paint, given up the accessories she'd made from her trophies, and her expression was softer.
"You're different," she finally said, choosing to voice her suspicions.
Lucas didn't care about her observations, he cared about the hunt. But it was obvious now that Mira had lured her here in order to talk in private. She sometimes suffered from the misconception that they ran a democracy, or that she had any say in the decision he made. He understood it was frustrating to let power slip through one's fingers, and that she was the only one with the courage to stand against him, but quite frankly she wasn't paid to do that.
"I'm not sure what you would like me to respond," Lucas mumbled, sheathing his knife in disappointment. He breathed in deep, hoping that he could signal her to leave by ignoring her, but she never did. Mira was the one person amongst his troops, who had to keep pushing him.
"You always treat us like some nuisance standing in your way. But lately you've been on an unusually good mood. You even help out back at the camp these days," she explained, her voice shifting to a regular conversational tone. Mira only acted like queen bitch when she needed to, Lucas knew as much. She'd shaped herself into the fierce Amazon in the wild, who rode into his father's city fearlessly, but she returned she was herself again: just a poor woman doing what she had to for her kid.
He didn't want to be friends with her though, never had and never would. But one had to adjust on the razor's edge, even if it meant tolerating the likes of her. Besides he understood how the conditions here weathered you, and whenever his work didn't need his time and attention, he liked doing something with his hands: building, carrying, and hunting. The Sixers survived with what they could get their hands on, just like Lucas had. He didn't have particular affection for them, but he didn't hate them either.
Lucas turned to meet her eyes, trying to push his frustration for her aside and silence her with as little conversation as possible. He laid his hands on his knees, squatted in the bushes, hidden from prying eyes.
"I have my reasons to be a good mood recently, Mira," he told her, as if speaking to a child. Lucas hated explaining himself; it was nothing but a waste of time. "All my plans are coming to an end, and with it, hopefully, the need to consort with the likes of you."
There was actual cheerfulness in him when he spoke to her; however, his words were like the thorns of a rose, sharp and prickling. Mira paid no heed though; she was quite used to his poisonous attitude and arrogance. The thing was that she realized he wasn't acting like a complete bastard these past few months, like something had mellowed him. It puzzled her, filled her with anxiety.
"It's not that," she told him, conviction shining through her confident voice. "It's because of her."
With one word she managed to eradicate his false cheerfulness and bring about the dangerous, short-tempered Lucas Taylor she knew. Lucas responded physically to her words, his body tensing right down to the chords on his neck. The difference was visible, his eyes shone dangerously.
"I would pick my next words wisely if I were you," Lucas settled to note, his voice colder than before. Mira watched as he wiped the drops of perspiration that dangled in his hair to the sleeve of his shirt calmly, choosing not to stare her down. His words hung in the air ominously though, she knew she'd hit him at a soft spot.
Of course he hadn't said a word about it, how he'd met her the first time. But it was obvious he treated her differently. Some months ago Lucas had actually asked about her mother, requested that they treat her better. Mira had considered he might have had a soft spot for the suffering woman, she'd seen him pay attention to her when he'd come by the camp before, but seeing him with her yesterday had proved that theory false.
The Lucas Taylor she knew wasn't a soft-speaking man. He didn't plead from anyone for anything. The way he'd spoken to Skye though, it had been different, genuine - Like he had shown his true colors to her and only her.
"I'm worried," she confessed, leaning against a tree trunk behind her for some support. He wasn't fooled by her relaxed stance though, he could tell she had a weapon at an arm's length, that she was ready to act should he alert her in any way.
"She's not one of us, and yet you trust her with everything," Mira then continued, observing how he reacted to her words this time.
But he really didn't. Lucas knew deep inside that the equation of their relationship didn't quite balance out, that he needed to keep things from her, and introduce them little by little. He had to protect her, his fragile little sister, so that the world would not run her down the same way it had done to him. It made him a bastard, of course, but the price for truth would've been too high.
"Trust is earned," Lucas hissed, inching closer to her and abandoning his post in the process. "Do you think you've earned mine?"
The question was unsettling to Mira, who'd rallied the Sixers together after things had started going south in Terra Nova quickly after their arrival. She'd risen to the occasion, taken leadership when no one else would. She'd withstood Lucas' company, his insults and mood swings. She'd stood against Taylor, carving out victories from whatever she was given. And yet he trusted that girl more?
"She'll betray you, Lucas," she said, hostility gone from her voice and only genuine worry left. Lucas was quite surprised to recognize it there, but it was clear. She was older than he was, a maternal leader masking as a tyrant, while he expected fear rather than love from his subordinates. She'd been seeking for something to penetrate his walls for years now.
"Don't worry Mira," Lucas smirked, letting go of the irritation she'd made him feel. For once he attempted to brush away the direct way she'd just insulted him to his face, and respond with kindness instead. "You'll be with your bastard child soon enough, I promise," he then finished. In Mira's book, it was pretty much the closest she'd get to a compliment or a caring word with him.
But it didn't calm her mind, or reassure anything. He avoided her inquiries, approached Skye Tate with care. Mira saw the hint of weakness generally as a good thing; it proved he wasn't the sociopath she'd once taken him for. However, since the object of his newly-found affection was Skye Tate, it raised problems.
Mira gave her the cold shoulder she gave everyone, but she didn't like using a young girl's love for her mother to her advantage. She'd hoped for something better to come along, free her from having to rely on Skye. These past three years had been so rough on that girl; Mira feared she'd collapse under the pressure. Now she was certain the girl would break, and her weakness would drive Lucas crazy.
"She will never hurt Terra Nova," Mira responded after a moment of silence, hoping to get him to see the light, to realize he was blinded.
Lucas didn't respond he simply turned around slowly, scanning their surroundings before he stood up. It was like he was refusing to listen. Then she recognized his blank expression, the kind that was always followed by boiling rage, an eruption of emotion. Mira stood up with un-steady feet, hoping for the best and fearing for the worst, which is exactly what she got.
Lucas spun into motion, darting at her, and tossing her down on the ground. She fell with a thump, pain flooding her senses, forcing her to struggle with controlling her body. But then she already felt him slam his knee against her chest, the blow releasing the air from her lungs, alongside with a cry. He used his knee to press his weight on top of her, pin her down, as his knife found its way to her throat. A crazy gleam in his eyes, pain reflected through-out, he stared at her.
"We are not friends," he told her, his weight pressing at her lungs, inflicting pain all over. "So the next time you think you need to get involved in my business, and I tell you to shut the fuck up, you will listen."
The cold blade hovered by her neck, not really touching her. Mira waited, her eyes pouring into his, pleading silently. Lucas held the knife tightly, and the blade nudged a little closer, and then a little closer. It grazed her skin, her eyes opening wide with shock, but he pulled the knife away before he did any real damage.
"Oh look," Lucas laughed with cruel amusement, "I suppose I am a bit different. My hand feels less stable nowadays," he said, pushing himself off her.
She groaned in pain, fighting the urge to lunge right back at him and tear his arrogant lips off his face. The lesson was learned though, she wouldn't attempt to talk to him again, not until after the girl would break his heart. Then she would make him listen, and listen well. After all, he was the reason she still had a chance to see her child again.
Lucas didn't bother to look at her squirming in the ground; he was too busy staring at his own hand, which was shaking. It wasn't a good sign for him to lose his temper over something this insignificant, even he knew that. He thought about his self-control when it came to her, how it was easier to overlook things, and how it was the stark opposite of his hyper-responsiveness now.
He'd been calmer for a long while, actually ever since he became the devil of Eden five years ago, but now with all these people around him, things were actually worse. It was harder to keep together, keep that spark from lighting. Lucas had grown accustomed to loneliness, it had healed him. But in order to be with her, he needed to be among people. And his intensity scared him as well sometimes.
He didn't apologize though, even if there was a knot of regret buried deep inside him. Apologizes had been the boy's way, always apologizing, always trying his best to make things right. Well, he couldn't make things right, so he'd do the opposite.
"Let's not talk about her again," he told her, giving an order rather than a suggestion. She could hear from his voice that he was a bit distraught. However, she knew he'd never admit it. The observation cooled down her a bit, strengthened her conclusion that Lucas was changed. She didn't know what his affection for the girl had mutated him into - it was something for the better though. She could tell ruthlessness wasn't easy for him as it'd been before.
Mira pushed herself back on her feet, gathering the remnants of her pride and self-worth. She didn't feel sad, not even humiliated, though it would've been easy to hate him. She just pitied him.
"Fine," she agreed softly, burying her failure.
"Alright," he responded, regaining that calmness that had alerted her in the first place.
"We will burn down Eden soon enough," his whisper was almost sad, as if the ending of this chapter he'd longed for meant the ending of something he actually cherished.
Then he took his gun in hand, removing the safety, and set out to continue their hunt. Mira followed him warily, steeling her resolve, thinking it was all for her child. She'd take on anything to hold her again.
-
She was still curled up, face buried into her knees, leaning against the wall by her bed. Eventually the tears had dried as the cocktail of mixed emotions had become less potent, and she'd been able to stop thinking of his name. In silence it wasn't all as overwhelming, just a little sad how father and son could spin so out of control, lost in mindless conflict.
She didn't know enough to pass judgment; all she had were inklings, hunches on the cause of this. Skye sighed aloud as lifted her head and looked at the mess she'd made with her room. It didn't matter who was right and who was wrong, when the fight tore everything else around them apart. It didn't matter that she loved him, when he was asking her to destroy everything.
Skye doubted there was any room for reason here. One way or another she'd take a side, hurt someone. Her heart was divided between what was right by everyone else, and what was right by them.
Steps resounded in the kitchen, signaling her that someone had come home. Skye hoped they would not take interest in her, that they would not come to see her. But the steps approached her anyway, no matter how unwanted they were. And when the visitor reached the door, Skye turned her head to look. It was Tasha, she could tell by her slim silhouette through the sliding door. As usual she knocked first to be polite, before she pushed the door open and became a witness in this sordid case.
Tasha stared at the mess, eyes widening the further she got in the room. Skye was usually so neat; she'd never seen such disorder anywhere Skye went. Disbelief took over her, as she ventured into the room, searching for her friend, becoming more and more horrified by this proof of Skye's anger.
"Skye?" Tasha called her, rising to her toes before she realized Skye was behind the behind, staring blankly at the wall. Worry overcame her quickly; she stepped back a bit and closed the door behind her. Then Tasha circled around the bed, reaching Skye's side. "Has something happened? Are you ok?" she inquired and kneeled before her friend, seeking for eye contact.
Skye didn't really seem to notice her until now, as she found Tasha's face on the same level with her eyes. She let go off the complicated emotional burden, focusing on her friend for a change. Tasha had kneeled, her mini-shorts complimenting her beautiful legs and her top hanging loosely over her dark skin. Her expression was full of warmth, when she recognized Skye was reacting to her presence. Tasha then leaned closer and took her wordlessly into her arms. The touch was kind, it released the tension Skye had been under and she closed her eyes, sinking into this comfort.
"Was it Josh? Is he being a jerk again?" Tasha asked, her short-sightedness actually eliciting a tired burst of laughter out of Skye, who was glad she could bury her desperate expression against Tasha's shoulder. "No," Skye responded with strange amusement. "Trust me, I'd never cry over him."
It was because he lacked the ability to make her silent with just one touch. He didn't speak to her like she was the reason he breathed. Being without him did not give her this kind of despair. So no, Josh could never hold her heart, when Lucas had already snatched it away six months ago.
Skye pulled away, wiping off the traces of her tears to the back of her hand while Tasha looked at her with concern, trying to find reason with her friend's behavior. Skye coughed a bit, frowning as she prepared to think of something, only the lies wouldn't emerge from the depths of her mind this time.
"It doesn't matter," she eventually said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes like it was all over nothing.
"You know," Tasha tilted her head, responding to the underlying pain in Skye's voice, "No man is worth your tears."
And her words hit closer than Skye would've liked. She hurried to deny her friend's conclusions, flustered by how Tasha assumed it was over a man. "A guy? Me? Sheesh, who would I even meet here? Nah, I'm just upset over useless shit. It's nothing serious." She copied her own carefree tone the best she could, played it like her crisis was something you could fix with a band-aid.
Tasha wasn't quite convinced, but she nodded in approval, realizing Skye wasn't willing to talk about it.
"We were heading out to eat with Max's dad. I actually came by to invite you too," she said, still wary. The suggestion would've normally delighted Skye, because she liked Max's dad and it was one of the closest thing to a family dinner she had the pleasure of experiencing in Terra Nova, but this time the timing was off. Lucas was waiting for her.
"Sorry, I can't," she said with regret, "I have something else lined up. I can't wriggle out of it right now."
"Fine. But you find me if you want to talk, Skye," Tasha was being very adamant about this. In the few years they'd lived together, they had shared many things, painful and joyful alike. Speaking with Tasha was sure-fire way to get her mind back on track, to ignore her own suspicions. Tasha knew about her flings, mistakes and successes, but she knew nothing of the world she lived in as a spy, and she would've not understood if Skye had told her about Lucas.
"I promise," Skye nodded, smiling as Tasha rose to her feet and leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead.
"You take care!" she exclaimed, walking out of Skye's room, probably thinking how even Skye Tate was sometimes a complete mess over insignificant details. Skye didn't correct that false belief. She knew this conversation would eventually continue, and Tasha would extort an explanation out of her. For the first time Skye actually wondered whether she'd be here to suffer through it.
When she heard the outside door close behind Tasha some minutes later, she finally forced herself to move. She picked up the things she'd thrown, placed them back to their places, straightening her sheets, cleaning whatever she could. The simple action helped, it cleared her mind from everything unnecessary.
It was no use hiding here, hurting herself with these frantic thoughts and doubts. She needed to stay strong, remember the strength that had pulled her through the past three years. She would go to him, pry the answers she needed. Once she knew the family secrets, she'd patch things if it was still possible. Otherwise their crazy little family-unit would self-destruct, taking Terra Nova down with it.
She changed clothes, prepared for another hike into the wild. But when the time came to pack the drive, she pushed it into the depths of her drawer, hid it from herself and him. And she knew how much it meant to him, how passionate he was over his work, which was why she couldn't bring it with her. Skye didn't trust herself around him, not when he shook her world with just one touch. If he pleaded, if he begged, she would give in eventually.
But this really was the ultimate test, returning to him empty handed, seeing what he would do. Skye hated herself for it, for knowing there was no other way.
TBC