Terra Nova - Things Lost in the Fire ch15 [Skye/Lucas]
Title: Things Lost in the Fire
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 15/?
Summary: 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: And I did it again. This time though, I have Taylor vs Taylor, so that makes up for everything because I love writing this relationship. ♥
Things Lost in the Fire
15. The Forest of lost children
Shadow and light teased his senses as he advanced in the shade, safe from the brightness that the foliage blocked. He was surrounded by heat and exotic plants gathered over fallen tree trunks, insects running across them. His steps were careful, his rifle pointed eagerly towards the direction he advanced in. There were others behind him, also moving as noiselessly as possible whilst surveying the grounds.
There was nothing here - not anything visible to the naked eye anyway. A presence lingered though, Taylor felt it clearly. It drove him onwards, this faint hope that the reports were true, that Lucas had been spotted near here. Not that he knew what he would do with his son if he caught him. They didn't exactly have means of punishment in Terra Nova for criminals. Banishment would've been futile as Lucas had already suffered that, and death was inconceivable. Taylor realized imprisonment was the only real option, and even then he had no answers, no easy solutions.
Just a glimpse of Lucas would suffice to him. Just a small assurance that he was alright, that despite the hatred and confusion in his heart, his son was better off alone.
At a distance, he could spot a figure emerging behind a tree, and this sight made his heart both elated and heavy at the same time, torn by conflict. He recognized the posture, the powerful frame and casual way he stood. Lucas leaned against the tree, staring away from his father and the approaching troops. He was soon backed up by more Sixers appearing from the bushes, each holding onto guns. As Taylor was beginning to grasp this situation - this all too convenient encounter - Lucas shot his father with a challenging glance, a ghost of a satisfied smile on his lips.
Taylor gave the signal to stop, halted the entire search party with one motion of his hand. And they all stood together frozen and guns pointed at their enemy, every soldier within someone else's clear range of shot.
Lucas had pressed his back against the tree, hidden his hands in his pockets. He could feel the gun press against his side, how it met with his raging heartbeat. His nervousness didn't show outwards at all, but it was very much present in his internal dialogue. He needed to do this; they had all agreed together that it was for the best.
"Lucas," Taylor called, drawing attention to him, lowering gun as he took the first steps towards his son. He knew now Lucas had orchestrated this meeting, teased his patrols with sightings to lure him here without raising suspicion. The only question that remained was why.
"We need to talk," Lucas spoke, swallowing the insults. His gaze fixated on something in the distance; he still refused to even look at his father.
Taylor got closer until Lucas motioned him to stop with a sloppy move of his hand. The soldiers and the Sixers kept their guns aimed, ready to act when necessary. Lucas wasn't expecting any trouble though, and he genuinely hoped his father would take this chance to keep things civil for once.
"That's close enough," he said almost sweetly, "I prefer to keep this nice and discreet."
Taylor marked Lucas' words carefully, realizing Lucas had aimed at keeping this encounter a secret known to as little people as possible.
"Your friends wouldn't understand?" he retorted cynically, letting his eyes survey the party Lucas had brought along. There were as many Sixers as he'd brought soldiers, which left the two sides evenly matched. Still Taylor wouldn't have risked it, for he knew the Sixers would kill every man they could before surrendering, and it wasn't worth it.
"I don't care what you think!" Lucas snapped, his eyes darting at his father for the first time since his arrival. Taylor noted Lucas appeared healthier than he'd been when he'd traded for Skye just four days ago. He had more color, more energy.
Lucas had clenched his hands to fists again, attempting to rein in the destructive urges he had. He reminded himself of his reasons - those important conclusions he'd reached - and the fact that his father cared for Skye's wellbeing too. "I came with a warning," he continued calmer, a slight hint of regret over his little outburst.
"Warning?" Taylor questioned disbelievingly. He realized soon how serious Lucas was as Lucas stared right at him, his jade eyes betraying genuine worry.
"Yes, father. Someone's coming," Lucas explained with a chilling tone.
"Who?" Taylor asked, the barrel of his gun inching towards the ground, away from Lucas. "When?"
"With your new flock, disguised as an ordinary soul," Lucas responded with a cryptic message, not knowing much more himself. They hadn't given this operative a name or any other details. The company had shrouded this person in secrecy, which was quite unlike them.
"Why are you telling me this, Lucas?" Taylor wondered aloud, his tough façade fallen, leaving behind just a father trying his best to understand his son. None of this fit the pattern of Lucas' behavior. He didn't just come to talk to the father he hated or offer him help.
Lucas made a mockery of Taylor's curiosity though. "I'm worried about the safety of my dear father," he told in an almost theatrical manner, adding drama into his performance. It reeked of falsity.
"Who's coming Lucas?" Taylor demanded, putting more authority in his voice. It had worked when Lucas had still been a boy eager to please his father, but now that tone just raised a lot of old buried issues. Taylor waited for a reaction, and realized then, just by watching Lucas grit his teeth, what was really happening.
"You don't know do you?" he said in amazement, finding this revelation handy.
Lucas showed signs of shallow annoyance, grated by the fact that his father was so sensitive to his moods. He wondered where that hailed from really. He'd spent his late teens and early adulthood avoiding his father, until the old man had practically forced him to Terra Nova, ripped him out of the life he'd built with his own two hands. Lucas had done everything in his power to erase his father from his life, and Nathaniel had plunged right back into it every time, stirring those painful memories, a nightmare Lucas had longed to forget.
"Your precious colony will be infiltrated again, unless you find them first," Lucas settled to instruct dryly. He ignored his father's observation completely, giving it no recognition. He struggled to keep his face straight, everything in check.
"Isn't that what you want?" Taylor countered with a small jab, attempting to kick the hornet's nest again. Lucas remained unresponsive, the passionate side of his character locked away, quite unreachable.
"That's none of your business," Lucas responded coldly. He was reminded of all the reasons he'd been against this move: how his father had trouble believing anything he said; how he had trouble expressing himself to his old man; how both of them just wanted to be at each other's throats already, shooting punches. Then he realized his father had lowered his gun almost completely, his focus on Lucas and nothing else.
Lucas swallowed his pride, took on a softer approach, knowing how much depended on this.
Taylor remained quiet for a moment. He and Lucas stood between the two armed parties, at a small distance from the others, which gave them at least some privacy. Not every word was heard. It helped ease Taylor into asking his son about her.
"How is she?" he inquired in an almost awkward manner.
"She's happy," Lucas told proudly, a warm gleam in his eyes. It reminded his father of a younger Lucas, the boy who'd smiled at people like that with no trouble. It was this emotionally scarred adult that had trouble showing his emotions to others, probably because he couldn't trust others.
Still Taylor felt a little weight in his throat, a lump pressing against his windpipe painfully. He'd thought of just burning down the forest where these lost children hid from him many times, and at the end of such days, he'd been glad that he hadn't gone down that path yet. Now he couldn't help but reaching for the torch, hoping for a spark to light the fire.
"She knows about Somalia son," he told him, anguish spreading across his chest as he watched his words reach Lucas, and throw him off his stable footing.
"You told her?" Lucas questioned, sounding personally insulted. Just like that he was back on the defense, shielding himself in case of another hit.
"It's not like you gave me a choice, Lucas," Taylor tried to explain, kindness and caring even in the face of Lucas' obvious chagrin, "You let her think I killed Ayani."
"You did," Lucas answered gravely, meaning every word. They struck his father like a blade, drawing blood.
"Lucas you need to understand that the situation…" Taylor struggled with words, not knowing what to say. They'd been here so many times; it was all like well-rehearsed scene by now, familiar to them both.
"You were so young. The trauma…," he took a painful inhale, keeping his own pain contained. "You didn't see things clearly, you couldn't understand it then."
Lucas took a step closer, standing straight now. There was a threat in his demeanor, a promise of violence. "Memories don't lie," Lucas said, narrowing his eyes in disgust.
It left his father speechless like so many times before. And the doctors had explained to him how Lucas dealt with loss by projecting his emotions outwards in extreme ways. And when Lucas had stopped doing that, he'd started to implode in the weight of them, withdrawing from everything. They had feared and respected him at the university, his peers praising his intelligence and frowning at his lack of empathy. So he'd made the choice to bring Lucas here, one last try to show his son he cared.
"So what lies did you tell her?" Lucas asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "The sob story about how you had to make a choice?" His voice lowered into a harsh whisper, one that froze Taylor's insides just from listening.
"I remember you making that choice: the choice to invade a struggling country, where the only sin people did was refusing to share their natural resources; the choice to steal their lands, kill everyone that resisted and drive the rest away as refugees with no future," Lucas spoke with utmost contempt, having thought of this speech so many times, imagined telling his father just what he thought of the bullshit Nathaniel Taylor had fed everyone for years.
"I remember you bringing us there, parading us around with that sickening smile. Well I wasn't proud of you then father. I saw the blood on your hands, the bones you built our house on. And when the rebels came and took us, I understood why they did it."
Taylor launched a punch at that point, his fist connecting with his son's jaw. Lucas staggered backwards, embracing the hit, the punishment. It cleared his head, reminded him of the reasons he was doing everything. And even as he bent over, nursing his jaw with his hand, he smiled wickedly, felt accomplished.
Guns were cocked all around them, but Lucas spread his arms to show he was alright. He chuckled lowly at his father as he straightened himself. Their eyes connected, tension increased tenfold.
"What you do with this information I gave you is up to you. But trust me, if you don't catch this person, you'll regret it," Lucas told his father seriously, sounding almost melancholic for a moment. He left their personal issues slide once again, reminding his father of the real reason they were here.
Of course the arrival of this operative would spell trouble for Lucas, for Skye, probably for Mira as well. And as difficult as handling them was to Taylor, Lucas had an inkling it would be harder if the players changed.
"You're skating on thin ice, son," Taylor said before he began retreating. It was useless to fight now. All he'd have was more corpses on his hands. No, he needed to wait, be the one who picked the time and the place himself.
Lucas watched his father go. The pain didn't dissolve yet; it throbbed violently, threatened to possess him completely. He'd done what they'd agreed upon, and still he felt bad. Was it about knowing his father was the place he still ran to when he was in trouble or the knowledge that Skye had been smiling at him for the past four days like nothing was wrong, even when she clearly believed his father's explanations?
"I can't figure out why were never friends back in Terra Nova," Curran wondered aloud, passing Skye another plate. He watched her place everything carefully around the table, arrange the primitive cutlery in a less awkward fashion. She'd tied her curly hair with a ribbon, a few strands escaping it, falling to her face. She didn't look like the little girl he'd known. She looked older, different. And he found himself liking this against the odds.
"Oh please!" Skye complained with a smile. "You were a soldier, I was a kid. Worlds don't collide that much."
Her wrists were still bandaged and they drew some attention when she worked. Luckily Hicks had promised they'd heal shortly and they could remove the gauze soon. Good, because now her wrists felt swollen, she couldn't move them properly. Skye reached for another plate, her fingers touching Curran's hand as she took it from him. His smile widened a bit, and she was too absorbed to notice it.
These past few days they had kept running into one another all the time. It wasn't such a surprise since the camp wasn't that big to begin with. Also with both of them being sort of on trial here, they got handed out the least dangerous assignments. Skye didn't mind working for her stay, and she realized she didn't mind Curran's company as much as she'd initially expected to. His experience had indeed humbled him, being cast out and left to die, finding the Sixers by a miracle and being accepted here. After awhile she didn't even act so much around him, just behaved normally.
"We both had our friends. And I happen to know soldiers aren't allowed to hang with us teens that much," Skye explained, feeling all bratty and juvenile. She hadn't really felt like that in a long time; Curran reminded her of a reckless Skye Tate, who did things just to feel excited. Slipping back into that skin reminded her of all the things she'd let go.
"Except for Reynolds," Curran frowned sarcastically, having a little fun with Mark.
"Because Reynolds is so excellent and gentlemanly," Skye went along with his joke, remembering the courteous young man and his sweet crush on Maddy Shannon. Of course that made her think of Josh and Elizabeth, and suddenly she was in the Shannon living room again, being eyed like a suitable daughter-in-law. It gave her the jitters. How strange was it that she preferred to stand between estranged son and father, loved by both, betraying them in turns?
"Yeah," Curran laughed, leaning against the table for a bit as laughter shook him. He'd lost a lot of weight in the jungle, and his clothes hung on him, yet he remained lean and healthy. His eyes lingered on her, appreciating the sight, before he moved again after realizing he'd stared.
Skye's mind was elsewhere, scattered all around. Her mind had been on the thirteenth pilgrimage a lot lately. She knew Kara was coming through, so at least Josh would have someone to distract him, but what about the rest? Would Hunter find someone else to crush over, someone new? Maybe Tasha would replace her with someone else, Maddy perhaps?
"Hey, you ok?" Curran asked her suddenly, stirring her awake from her thoughts. Darkness had crept to her face for a second there, worrying him.
"Nah, I'm fine," she rolled her eyes and put on a cheerful front. "All of this just takes a little getting used to."
She ran her eyes across the camp site: the Sixers that were playing cards a little further, the watchers on the rope bridges, the mechanic working on a rover, and unexpectedly Skye realized she didn't see Carter anywhere today. She did a double take, making sure she scanned everywhere, but he didn't appear into view at any point.
Skye frowned, suspecting something immediately. It was then that she heard a small yelp and sizzle, followed by several slurs. She turned hastily, finding Curran holding his hand with a painful grimace twisting his lips. He'd burned himself with the kettle on the fire, and by the looks of it, it was bad.
"Ok, you're going to get that checked," Skye noted in a motherly tone, leaving no room for objections.
"I'm cool," Curran insisted, his tongue flickering noticeably against his teeth when Skye tried to touch the burnt skin.
"Oh yeah?" Skye asked cynically, "You're fine?"
She grabbed him by his wrist and started hauling him away from the table and the kettle and towards Hick's hut despite his protests. Not that Curran put up much of a fight. He was happy to be led away by her, even for such an insignificant reason. She was a breeze of warm wind, something worthy amid the killers and thieves gathered here.
It was when they entered the hut and he saw Hicks standing there that he suddenly came to a complete halt. His eyes locked with Hicks, every detail evaluated with care. The scar was new but otherwise she looked the same - ruffled dirty blonde pixie hair, a messy tank top and soft features- if only a bit sad.
"Skye," Hicks greeted her warmly, yet her expression faded when she recognized Curran. "Tim," she said next, sounding very tense and sad.
And Skye was able to surmise that Curran's reluctance hadn't been just about not needing medical attention; He hadn't wanted to come here because of Hicks. They knew each other, had a history.
Curran's warm expression became stiff as well, though his voice was more intimate, "Karen."
"I'll leave you two alone," Skye said quietly and slipped out at this time, puzzled by this strange occurrence. She didn't go away completely though; she lingered at the entrance, at a hearing distance, arms folded across her chest. Something compelled her to stay, to listen and learn.
"Show me your hand, and let's get this over with," Hicks' voice called timidly, and Skye heard her walk up to Curran, apparently examining the burn.
"I have been avoiding you," Curran confessed at this point, voice tainted by regret. Skye could imagine him standing there, eyes cast to the ground. His usual brashness had been notably absent lately, replaced by humility.
"I noticed," Hicks responded almost angrily, doing something to elicit a pained grunt from Curran and then a low wail straight after.
"At first it was just… I was hoping it was a lie. That I wouldn't find you here," Curran explained softly, like talking to an old friend. He swallowed loudly. "Then I just chickened out time after time."
Hicks snorted at the comment frustrated, "Nothing's changed then."
"Karen, please," Curran pleaded, sounding genuinely sorry.
"I know about Foster, Tim. I know you killed him," She attacked him, her voice betraying a slate of conflicted emotions. "So in comparison, me being here isn't that big a deal."
It was Curran's turn to snort. "Really? You just left into the night with them, knowing what their goal was. You abandoned your post, your friends, your CO. All because they needed a medic and no one else would do it?"
Skye realized she hadn't really given it any thought: what Hicks' story was. Well now she knew. She wasn't an original Sixer, but a former Terra Novan, who'd apparently been friends with Curran. And despite everything she'd left and come to jungle with Mira. Why?
"I didn't kill anyone then, and I'm not killing anyone now. I help people," Hicks explained collectedly, having rationalized her actions for years now. "These people were my friends then and are my friends now. They need me."
Skye wanted to walk away and not eavesdrop, but quite frankly she was frozen still. This unexpected drama had her enthralled.
"Really Karen? They were terrorists who wanted to hurt the colony, and you just tagged along like a mindless drone, like some deserter," Curran complained, his voice shaking already.
"I am a deserter Tim. But at least I made this choice. I wasn't cast off for being a murderer," she snapped at him.
"Ok, so act like a medic and stop hurting me!" he barked back.
"Spread your own fucking lotion then!"
At that point Skye realized she was being watched. Her head turned slowly, pinpointing the source of this invasion of privacy when she realized Carter was there again. The voices in the hut were turning really agitated, and Carter seemed amused like he heard them too, so Skye made the choice to escape while she could. She placed her hands in her pockets, taking a few running steps to Carter.
Once she reached him they just stood there for a moment.
"I didn't realize she wasn't one of you originally," Skye eventually sighed, caught back by this revelation.
Carter pondered what to tell her, what she needed to hear. The details were unimportant to him, easily deducted from the fighting: That Karen Hicks had been security, served in the same unit as Curran until she'd come and live with the Sixers.
"She is useful," Carter eventually replied, shedding no new light.
"Am I useful?" she asked next, feeling a bit anxious, although she knew what the answer had to be.
"You can be," Carter said.
"But it's not like Mira would kick me out if I wasn't?" Skye tried to fish for an answer, to lead Carter towards the path of conversation she really wanted to engage him. He noticed this too, marked how effortlessly it came from her. He didn't respond.
Some seconds later they witnessed Curran rushing out the hut and striding away in clear rage. His cheeks were flushed, his hands clenched into fists and his skin looked tight, tensed. Skye didn't go after him even as she felt this decision sting her conscience. She was supposed to befriend this man, but so far all she'd seen was someone working against incredible odds, trying to live amongst people he still considered his enemies.
She was starting to believe this expose was all for nothing and at the end of the day she'd just end up hurting another person she'd grow to like.
Carter examined Skye, reading into her steel resolve quietly. And surprisingly, he did something unexpected. "Take it easy tonight," he told her.
Skye's head turned to Carter right away, her eyes questioning what he was talking about.
"Lucas," Carter then added.
"Why would I need to take it easy?" Skye asked. She had a feeling she wouldn't like this answer.
"He'll be on edge. He was supposed to see Taylor today," Carter revealed before taking off, fearing he'd leak more need-to-know information because of foolish sentiments.
TBC
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 15/?
Summary: 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: And I did it again. This time though, I have Taylor vs Taylor, so that makes up for everything because I love writing this relationship. ♥
Things Lost in the Fire
15. The Forest of lost children
Shadow and light teased his senses as he advanced in the shade, safe from the brightness that the foliage blocked. He was surrounded by heat and exotic plants gathered over fallen tree trunks, insects running across them. His steps were careful, his rifle pointed eagerly towards the direction he advanced in. There were others behind him, also moving as noiselessly as possible whilst surveying the grounds.
There was nothing here - not anything visible to the naked eye anyway. A presence lingered though, Taylor felt it clearly. It drove him onwards, this faint hope that the reports were true, that Lucas had been spotted near here. Not that he knew what he would do with his son if he caught him. They didn't exactly have means of punishment in Terra Nova for criminals. Banishment would've been futile as Lucas had already suffered that, and death was inconceivable. Taylor realized imprisonment was the only real option, and even then he had no answers, no easy solutions.
Just a glimpse of Lucas would suffice to him. Just a small assurance that he was alright, that despite the hatred and confusion in his heart, his son was better off alone.
At a distance, he could spot a figure emerging behind a tree, and this sight made his heart both elated and heavy at the same time, torn by conflict. He recognized the posture, the powerful frame and casual way he stood. Lucas leaned against the tree, staring away from his father and the approaching troops. He was soon backed up by more Sixers appearing from the bushes, each holding onto guns. As Taylor was beginning to grasp this situation - this all too convenient encounter - Lucas shot his father with a challenging glance, a ghost of a satisfied smile on his lips.
Taylor gave the signal to stop, halted the entire search party with one motion of his hand. And they all stood together frozen and guns pointed at their enemy, every soldier within someone else's clear range of shot.
Lucas had pressed his back against the tree, hidden his hands in his pockets. He could feel the gun press against his side, how it met with his raging heartbeat. His nervousness didn't show outwards at all, but it was very much present in his internal dialogue. He needed to do this; they had all agreed together that it was for the best.
"Lucas," Taylor called, drawing attention to him, lowering gun as he took the first steps towards his son. He knew now Lucas had orchestrated this meeting, teased his patrols with sightings to lure him here without raising suspicion. The only question that remained was why.
"We need to talk," Lucas spoke, swallowing the insults. His gaze fixated on something in the distance; he still refused to even look at his father.
Taylor got closer until Lucas motioned him to stop with a sloppy move of his hand. The soldiers and the Sixers kept their guns aimed, ready to act when necessary. Lucas wasn't expecting any trouble though, and he genuinely hoped his father would take this chance to keep things civil for once.
"That's close enough," he said almost sweetly, "I prefer to keep this nice and discreet."
Taylor marked Lucas' words carefully, realizing Lucas had aimed at keeping this encounter a secret known to as little people as possible.
"Your friends wouldn't understand?" he retorted cynically, letting his eyes survey the party Lucas had brought along. There were as many Sixers as he'd brought soldiers, which left the two sides evenly matched. Still Taylor wouldn't have risked it, for he knew the Sixers would kill every man they could before surrendering, and it wasn't worth it.
"I don't care what you think!" Lucas snapped, his eyes darting at his father for the first time since his arrival. Taylor noted Lucas appeared healthier than he'd been when he'd traded for Skye just four days ago. He had more color, more energy.
Lucas had clenched his hands to fists again, attempting to rein in the destructive urges he had. He reminded himself of his reasons - those important conclusions he'd reached - and the fact that his father cared for Skye's wellbeing too. "I came with a warning," he continued calmer, a slight hint of regret over his little outburst.
"Warning?" Taylor questioned disbelievingly. He realized soon how serious Lucas was as Lucas stared right at him, his jade eyes betraying genuine worry.
"Yes, father. Someone's coming," Lucas explained with a chilling tone.
"Who?" Taylor asked, the barrel of his gun inching towards the ground, away from Lucas. "When?"
"With your new flock, disguised as an ordinary soul," Lucas responded with a cryptic message, not knowing much more himself. They hadn't given this operative a name or any other details. The company had shrouded this person in secrecy, which was quite unlike them.
"Why are you telling me this, Lucas?" Taylor wondered aloud, his tough façade fallen, leaving behind just a father trying his best to understand his son. None of this fit the pattern of Lucas' behavior. He didn't just come to talk to the father he hated or offer him help.
Lucas made a mockery of Taylor's curiosity though. "I'm worried about the safety of my dear father," he told in an almost theatrical manner, adding drama into his performance. It reeked of falsity.
"Who's coming Lucas?" Taylor demanded, putting more authority in his voice. It had worked when Lucas had still been a boy eager to please his father, but now that tone just raised a lot of old buried issues. Taylor waited for a reaction, and realized then, just by watching Lucas grit his teeth, what was really happening.
"You don't know do you?" he said in amazement, finding this revelation handy.
Lucas showed signs of shallow annoyance, grated by the fact that his father was so sensitive to his moods. He wondered where that hailed from really. He'd spent his late teens and early adulthood avoiding his father, until the old man had practically forced him to Terra Nova, ripped him out of the life he'd built with his own two hands. Lucas had done everything in his power to erase his father from his life, and Nathaniel had plunged right back into it every time, stirring those painful memories, a nightmare Lucas had longed to forget.
"Your precious colony will be infiltrated again, unless you find them first," Lucas settled to instruct dryly. He ignored his father's observation completely, giving it no recognition. He struggled to keep his face straight, everything in check.
"Isn't that what you want?" Taylor countered with a small jab, attempting to kick the hornet's nest again. Lucas remained unresponsive, the passionate side of his character locked away, quite unreachable.
"That's none of your business," Lucas responded coldly. He was reminded of all the reasons he'd been against this move: how his father had trouble believing anything he said; how he had trouble expressing himself to his old man; how both of them just wanted to be at each other's throats already, shooting punches. Then he realized his father had lowered his gun almost completely, his focus on Lucas and nothing else.
Lucas swallowed his pride, took on a softer approach, knowing how much depended on this.
Taylor remained quiet for a moment. He and Lucas stood between the two armed parties, at a small distance from the others, which gave them at least some privacy. Not every word was heard. It helped ease Taylor into asking his son about her.
"How is she?" he inquired in an almost awkward manner.
"She's happy," Lucas told proudly, a warm gleam in his eyes. It reminded his father of a younger Lucas, the boy who'd smiled at people like that with no trouble. It was this emotionally scarred adult that had trouble showing his emotions to others, probably because he couldn't trust others.
Still Taylor felt a little weight in his throat, a lump pressing against his windpipe painfully. He'd thought of just burning down the forest where these lost children hid from him many times, and at the end of such days, he'd been glad that he hadn't gone down that path yet. Now he couldn't help but reaching for the torch, hoping for a spark to light the fire.
"She knows about Somalia son," he told him, anguish spreading across his chest as he watched his words reach Lucas, and throw him off his stable footing.
"You told her?" Lucas questioned, sounding personally insulted. Just like that he was back on the defense, shielding himself in case of another hit.
"It's not like you gave me a choice, Lucas," Taylor tried to explain, kindness and caring even in the face of Lucas' obvious chagrin, "You let her think I killed Ayani."
"You did," Lucas answered gravely, meaning every word. They struck his father like a blade, drawing blood.
"Lucas you need to understand that the situation…" Taylor struggled with words, not knowing what to say. They'd been here so many times; it was all like well-rehearsed scene by now, familiar to them both.
"You were so young. The trauma…," he took a painful inhale, keeping his own pain contained. "You didn't see things clearly, you couldn't understand it then."
Lucas took a step closer, standing straight now. There was a threat in his demeanor, a promise of violence. "Memories don't lie," Lucas said, narrowing his eyes in disgust.
It left his father speechless like so many times before. And the doctors had explained to him how Lucas dealt with loss by projecting his emotions outwards in extreme ways. And when Lucas had stopped doing that, he'd started to implode in the weight of them, withdrawing from everything. They had feared and respected him at the university, his peers praising his intelligence and frowning at his lack of empathy. So he'd made the choice to bring Lucas here, one last try to show his son he cared.
"So what lies did you tell her?" Lucas asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "The sob story about how you had to make a choice?" His voice lowered into a harsh whisper, one that froze Taylor's insides just from listening.
"I remember you making that choice: the choice to invade a struggling country, where the only sin people did was refusing to share their natural resources; the choice to steal their lands, kill everyone that resisted and drive the rest away as refugees with no future," Lucas spoke with utmost contempt, having thought of this speech so many times, imagined telling his father just what he thought of the bullshit Nathaniel Taylor had fed everyone for years.
"I remember you bringing us there, parading us around with that sickening smile. Well I wasn't proud of you then father. I saw the blood on your hands, the bones you built our house on. And when the rebels came and took us, I understood why they did it."
Taylor launched a punch at that point, his fist connecting with his son's jaw. Lucas staggered backwards, embracing the hit, the punishment. It cleared his head, reminded him of the reasons he was doing everything. And even as he bent over, nursing his jaw with his hand, he smiled wickedly, felt accomplished.
Guns were cocked all around them, but Lucas spread his arms to show he was alright. He chuckled lowly at his father as he straightened himself. Their eyes connected, tension increased tenfold.
"What you do with this information I gave you is up to you. But trust me, if you don't catch this person, you'll regret it," Lucas told his father seriously, sounding almost melancholic for a moment. He left their personal issues slide once again, reminding his father of the real reason they were here.
Of course the arrival of this operative would spell trouble for Lucas, for Skye, probably for Mira as well. And as difficult as handling them was to Taylor, Lucas had an inkling it would be harder if the players changed.
"You're skating on thin ice, son," Taylor said before he began retreating. It was useless to fight now. All he'd have was more corpses on his hands. No, he needed to wait, be the one who picked the time and the place himself.
Lucas watched his father go. The pain didn't dissolve yet; it throbbed violently, threatened to possess him completely. He'd done what they'd agreed upon, and still he felt bad. Was it about knowing his father was the place he still ran to when he was in trouble or the knowledge that Skye had been smiling at him for the past four days like nothing was wrong, even when she clearly believed his father's explanations?
"I can't figure out why were never friends back in Terra Nova," Curran wondered aloud, passing Skye another plate. He watched her place everything carefully around the table, arrange the primitive cutlery in a less awkward fashion. She'd tied her curly hair with a ribbon, a few strands escaping it, falling to her face. She didn't look like the little girl he'd known. She looked older, different. And he found himself liking this against the odds.
"Oh please!" Skye complained with a smile. "You were a soldier, I was a kid. Worlds don't collide that much."
Her wrists were still bandaged and they drew some attention when she worked. Luckily Hicks had promised they'd heal shortly and they could remove the gauze soon. Good, because now her wrists felt swollen, she couldn't move them properly. Skye reached for another plate, her fingers touching Curran's hand as she took it from him. His smile widened a bit, and she was too absorbed to notice it.
These past few days they had kept running into one another all the time. It wasn't such a surprise since the camp wasn't that big to begin with. Also with both of them being sort of on trial here, they got handed out the least dangerous assignments. Skye didn't mind working for her stay, and she realized she didn't mind Curran's company as much as she'd initially expected to. His experience had indeed humbled him, being cast out and left to die, finding the Sixers by a miracle and being accepted here. After awhile she didn't even act so much around him, just behaved normally.
"We both had our friends. And I happen to know soldiers aren't allowed to hang with us teens that much," Skye explained, feeling all bratty and juvenile. She hadn't really felt like that in a long time; Curran reminded her of a reckless Skye Tate, who did things just to feel excited. Slipping back into that skin reminded her of all the things she'd let go.
"Except for Reynolds," Curran frowned sarcastically, having a little fun with Mark.
"Because Reynolds is so excellent and gentlemanly," Skye went along with his joke, remembering the courteous young man and his sweet crush on Maddy Shannon. Of course that made her think of Josh and Elizabeth, and suddenly she was in the Shannon living room again, being eyed like a suitable daughter-in-law. It gave her the jitters. How strange was it that she preferred to stand between estranged son and father, loved by both, betraying them in turns?
"Yeah," Curran laughed, leaning against the table for a bit as laughter shook him. He'd lost a lot of weight in the jungle, and his clothes hung on him, yet he remained lean and healthy. His eyes lingered on her, appreciating the sight, before he moved again after realizing he'd stared.
Skye's mind was elsewhere, scattered all around. Her mind had been on the thirteenth pilgrimage a lot lately. She knew Kara was coming through, so at least Josh would have someone to distract him, but what about the rest? Would Hunter find someone else to crush over, someone new? Maybe Tasha would replace her with someone else, Maddy perhaps?
"Hey, you ok?" Curran asked her suddenly, stirring her awake from her thoughts. Darkness had crept to her face for a second there, worrying him.
"Nah, I'm fine," she rolled her eyes and put on a cheerful front. "All of this just takes a little getting used to."
She ran her eyes across the camp site: the Sixers that were playing cards a little further, the watchers on the rope bridges, the mechanic working on a rover, and unexpectedly Skye realized she didn't see Carter anywhere today. She did a double take, making sure she scanned everywhere, but he didn't appear into view at any point.
Skye frowned, suspecting something immediately. It was then that she heard a small yelp and sizzle, followed by several slurs. She turned hastily, finding Curran holding his hand with a painful grimace twisting his lips. He'd burned himself with the kettle on the fire, and by the looks of it, it was bad.
"Ok, you're going to get that checked," Skye noted in a motherly tone, leaving no room for objections.
"I'm cool," Curran insisted, his tongue flickering noticeably against his teeth when Skye tried to touch the burnt skin.
"Oh yeah?" Skye asked cynically, "You're fine?"
She grabbed him by his wrist and started hauling him away from the table and the kettle and towards Hick's hut despite his protests. Not that Curran put up much of a fight. He was happy to be led away by her, even for such an insignificant reason. She was a breeze of warm wind, something worthy amid the killers and thieves gathered here.
It was when they entered the hut and he saw Hicks standing there that he suddenly came to a complete halt. His eyes locked with Hicks, every detail evaluated with care. The scar was new but otherwise she looked the same - ruffled dirty blonde pixie hair, a messy tank top and soft features- if only a bit sad.
"Skye," Hicks greeted her warmly, yet her expression faded when she recognized Curran. "Tim," she said next, sounding very tense and sad.
And Skye was able to surmise that Curran's reluctance hadn't been just about not needing medical attention; He hadn't wanted to come here because of Hicks. They knew each other, had a history.
Curran's warm expression became stiff as well, though his voice was more intimate, "Karen."
"I'll leave you two alone," Skye said quietly and slipped out at this time, puzzled by this strange occurrence. She didn't go away completely though; she lingered at the entrance, at a hearing distance, arms folded across her chest. Something compelled her to stay, to listen and learn.
"Show me your hand, and let's get this over with," Hicks' voice called timidly, and Skye heard her walk up to Curran, apparently examining the burn.
"I have been avoiding you," Curran confessed at this point, voice tainted by regret. Skye could imagine him standing there, eyes cast to the ground. His usual brashness had been notably absent lately, replaced by humility.
"I noticed," Hicks responded almost angrily, doing something to elicit a pained grunt from Curran and then a low wail straight after.
"At first it was just… I was hoping it was a lie. That I wouldn't find you here," Curran explained softly, like talking to an old friend. He swallowed loudly. "Then I just chickened out time after time."
Hicks snorted at the comment frustrated, "Nothing's changed then."
"Karen, please," Curran pleaded, sounding genuinely sorry.
"I know about Foster, Tim. I know you killed him," She attacked him, her voice betraying a slate of conflicted emotions. "So in comparison, me being here isn't that big a deal."
It was Curran's turn to snort. "Really? You just left into the night with them, knowing what their goal was. You abandoned your post, your friends, your CO. All because they needed a medic and no one else would do it?"
Skye realized she hadn't really given it any thought: what Hicks' story was. Well now she knew. She wasn't an original Sixer, but a former Terra Novan, who'd apparently been friends with Curran. And despite everything she'd left and come to jungle with Mira. Why?
"I didn't kill anyone then, and I'm not killing anyone now. I help people," Hicks explained collectedly, having rationalized her actions for years now. "These people were my friends then and are my friends now. They need me."
Skye wanted to walk away and not eavesdrop, but quite frankly she was frozen still. This unexpected drama had her enthralled.
"Really Karen? They were terrorists who wanted to hurt the colony, and you just tagged along like a mindless drone, like some deserter," Curran complained, his voice shaking already.
"I am a deserter Tim. But at least I made this choice. I wasn't cast off for being a murderer," she snapped at him.
"Ok, so act like a medic and stop hurting me!" he barked back.
"Spread your own fucking lotion then!"
At that point Skye realized she was being watched. Her head turned slowly, pinpointing the source of this invasion of privacy when she realized Carter was there again. The voices in the hut were turning really agitated, and Carter seemed amused like he heard them too, so Skye made the choice to escape while she could. She placed her hands in her pockets, taking a few running steps to Carter.
Once she reached him they just stood there for a moment.
"I didn't realize she wasn't one of you originally," Skye eventually sighed, caught back by this revelation.
Carter pondered what to tell her, what she needed to hear. The details were unimportant to him, easily deducted from the fighting: That Karen Hicks had been security, served in the same unit as Curran until she'd come and live with the Sixers.
"She is useful," Carter eventually replied, shedding no new light.
"Am I useful?" she asked next, feeling a bit anxious, although she knew what the answer had to be.
"You can be," Carter said.
"But it's not like Mira would kick me out if I wasn't?" Skye tried to fish for an answer, to lead Carter towards the path of conversation she really wanted to engage him. He noticed this too, marked how effortlessly it came from her. He didn't respond.
Some seconds later they witnessed Curran rushing out the hut and striding away in clear rage. His cheeks were flushed, his hands clenched into fists and his skin looked tight, tensed. Skye didn't go after him even as she felt this decision sting her conscience. She was supposed to befriend this man, but so far all she'd seen was someone working against incredible odds, trying to live amongst people he still considered his enemies.
She was starting to believe this expose was all for nothing and at the end of the day she'd just end up hurting another person she'd grow to like.
Carter examined Skye, reading into her steel resolve quietly. And surprisingly, he did something unexpected. "Take it easy tonight," he told her.
Skye's head turned to Carter right away, her eyes questioning what he was talking about.
"Lucas," Carter then added.
"Why would I need to take it easy?" Skye asked. She had a feeling she wouldn't like this answer.
"He'll be on edge. He was supposed to see Taylor today," Carter revealed before taking off, fearing he'd leak more need-to-know information because of foolish sentiments.
TBC