Terra Nova - Things Lost in the Fire ch19 [Skye/Lucas]
Title: Things Lost in the Fire
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 19/?
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: I tried to write two scenes for this chapter, but after the first one... I just couldn't. It made a bit of a mess out of me.
Things Lost in the Fire
19. Razor's Edge
He watched them go in silence. It wasn't exactly a secret at the camp that Mira and Lucas weren't getting along with this new contact from their bosses, but watching them now, all those awkward gestures and the seething fire beneath their strained smiles, he just knew trouble was coming their way. It was exactly the kind of information he'd waited to report back, a nugget of gold that would buy him his freedom.
So Curran watched them load the rovers with supplies and set off in unison, accompanied by a few other Sixers for security. His gaze drifted to Skye who also observed from the sidelines, unusual gloom present in the way she held herself. He figured she'd exchanged words with Lucas Taylor, for the man had given him some cold stares these past hours.
Something had shaken her alright; her demeanor had been different since this Morris had arrived. He could see the shadow of fear on her face whenever she passed the man by or saw a glimpse of him. It didn't help that Lucas had been around the camp a lot more lately, his intense eyes searching for Skye wherever they went, always holding a seemingly judgmental thought.
Curran didn't quite know what the deal with the two of them was, but it was clear it was unhealthy for her, and that Lucas apparently felt something more for her than brotherly affection, which added another problem on his list. Curran hadn't expected to befriend Skye or care what happened to her, yet he was thinking ahead for the both of them, bound by the knowledge that she needed help as badly as he did.
Something needed to be done quickly. Time was running out, and he was sure Taylor didn't know his son was still working on the calculations despite the loss of the hard drive. With the Sixer leaders gone, Curran wouldn't get another chance this good again.
Despite the good rapport between him and most of the Sixers, Curran knew where his loyalties lied. These people were aiming to hurt the colony, to invade his home and destroy the work of the Commander, which made them his enemies by default. He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend he wasn't helping them do precisely this, like Skye had chosen to do in her darkest hour. No, Curran couldn't fault her; she'd been driven into a difficult position, and she'd lost all hope of going home again, which was why Lucas Taylor had been able to drag her along since she'd been discovered at Terra Nova.
Curran knew she was a good person beneath, simply in need of a second chance. He was sure the Commander would shelter them both if they arrived at his doorstep, carrying news that could end this stalemate. He knew Taylor cared for her like a daughter and suspected even her betrayal hadn't completely destroyed that relationship. Hope prevailed in the face of darkness.
Skye held onto the beverage she'd been offered, not even having realized the drink had gotten cold while she'd contemplated on this mess, lost inside her own head. She sat by a small fire, leaning her back against a log, warming her wet boots by the flames. It was shaping up to be another cold night in the jungle, the kind that snuck up on you and made you reach for someone, anyone, for warmth. The problem was she didn't want just anyone, she wanted Lucas.
They had exchanged some horrible words, and true to his family heritage, he'd left without solving the issues laid bare in front of them. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, for this had happened a few times during their short acquaintance already. Skye should've anticipated it, and avoided the issue by taking the higher ground and just refusing to argue.
But who was saying she was the adult here? She'd been yanked from her home and her family and thrust into this wild life she hadn't desired. She'd met a man, spent six months imagining him to be flawless, and then had those delusions crushed in the cruelest ways possible. When was her time to act out if not now?
"Your drink is cold," Hicks pointed out dryly as she returned to fire, sitting across Skye on the other side of the fire. She was fidgeting something in her hands, a piece of string she couldn't quite leave alone.
Skye frowned at the comment, bringing her cup to her lips to taste the drink and prove Hicks wrong, but her expression changed once she realized her mentor was right. Skye finished her drink sheepishly, feeling shame for have wasted this nice gesture. Hicks had noticed her head wasn't in its place today, and sat her down here mug in hand, telling her to take it easy.
"Sorry," Skye mumbled a half-hearted apology at the older woman, who proceeded to shrug it off like an annoyance.
Hicks had averted her eyes already; she was staring at the fire, the lively way the flames moved and ate everything in their path hungrily. She threw in a branch, listened to the way it cracked in the fire while devoured. "Never mind," Hicks then commented faintly, appearing listless and distant.
They hadn't known one another for a little more than a week, but their daily exposure to one another had lead to Skye picking up on things, like routines and moods. Hicks had been nothing but friendly to her; she'd taken Skye under her wing and made sure Skye didn't have too much time for loitering, for thinking of the past and present. In Skye's book, this made her a friend.
"Hey," she whispered softly, gaining her friend's attention. Skye took notice of the way Hicks seemed haunted even now, sadness present in her hazel eyes. "Does it get any easier?" she asked, truly yearning for an answer that would help overcome this feeling of helplessness. Skye never seemed to stay a stranger for it for long; it kept creeping right back into her life one way or another.
Hicks dialed back on her emotions at that moment, brushing away her own jaded past and experiences. She chose to give hope instead, recognizing herself in the young woman before her. "You need to control your own past before you can control your future, Skye," she advised, raising a brow.
Skye watched her throw the piece of string she'd played with into the fire a moment later, and with it her mood seemed to change as well.
Curran had appeared behind Hicks, dark eyes cast on Skye. Something about it didn't ring true tonight, didn't feel comfortable, and Skye rose with suspicion to meet her friend, who she'd been avoiding all day as per Lucas' request. Despite arguing against it, she'd seen the wisdom in Lucas' request. It was better for things to cool down for now.
Hicks didn't pay attention to Skye standing up and walking towards Curran. She just chucked pieces of barn at the fire like ammunition, seeking to shoot them at something.
"Hey," Skye greeted Curran, pushing her hands in her pockets. She felt a bit awkward today, having been called out on her behavior by Lucas of all people.
"Can we talk?" Curran asked, shooting Hicks' back a discreet look. He seemed uncomfortable being near his former friend, and Skye couldn't blame him. Rumors had been running around since their very loud reunion some days ago, and as far as she knew, the two still hadn't talked since.
"I was hoping to hit the sack, but as long as you make it quick…," she said, frustration bleeding into her voice. She wasn't lying though; all she needed and wanted right now was a good night's sleep, although she wouldn't mind if it lasted for the next three days.
"Sure," Curran promised and motioned them towards Hicks' hut nearby for some privacy.
Skye grabbed a lantern outside before entering to light the dark. She was greeted by the stench of disinfectants upon entering, yet it passed quicker nowadays since she was working here daily. There weren't that many patients at the camp, so Hicks sent her on other assignments quite often, but when something came up Hicks always included her.
Curran followed Skye inside, watched as she placed the lantern on the table and shot him with a questioning look. She didn't like trysts in the dark, not when Lucas had specifically warned her against it, yet she'd grown accustomed to this place. She genuinely believed there was no danger; that someone would hear her if she screamed.
"So what was it?" Skye asked, feeling like a school kid sneaking behind the teacher's back to do something against the rules. Only this time the feeling weighted her down instead of exhilarating her.
He moved closer to her, an intense look in his eyes, something she'd never seen before. All the signs of alarm were there, ignored by her tired mind that needed to be right about him after everything.
"What if I said there was a way for you and me to get back to Terra Nova?" he asked, his voice diminished into a whisper. It shook her awake, had her cursing silently, reminded of that nagging feeling she'd had and which she had ignored.
"Curran, I..," she started, not knowing how to finish.
"We're not safe here. You're not safe here, Skye," Curran hurried to explain, catching onto her hesitation. He read it differently though, seeing fear for things, certain people, she felt none for.
Amid the disappointment, slight anger even, she knew she needed to hear it all, find out how much damage he'd done if any. "What did you do?" she sighed, letting her lungs expel the distress from her; it didn't succeed, the pressure packed into her body more and more with each breath instead.
"We have leverage now. Taylor offered me sanctuary in return for Intel. And we both know he just wants you back safe and sound. Skye, he doesn't know Lucas is still fiddling with the calculations, or about this Morris guy! If we act quickly, they could even ambush the whole group at the Badlands, and it'd be all over. We'd be heroes, Skye," he explained to her, seeking for her eyes, her heart, her mind, with his words.
He could see her trembling with what he hoped was excitement, gratitude for giving her this way out. Curran reached for her hand with his, but she pulled it away, placed it on her heart, shaking her head. There was a pout on her lips, words were waiting to be spoken, but she lacked the will to speak them.
"It's ok, Skye," Curran said, understanding her hesitation. "You can come with me. You don't have to stay here, and you won't owe me anything. I just want you safe, because you deserve so much better than this," he explained, glancing around them sympathetically.
Skye wanted to back away, to scream from the top of her lungs and alert everyone, but this wasn't the way this was supposed to go! He was supposed to be this amoral killer, who wanted nothing more than to hurt everyone around him. He wasn't supposed to be someone this noble and concerned for her and with good damn reason too! And the worst part was that somewhere deep down she wanted to just take his hand and leave this mess behind.
Tears were in her eyes, uninvited guests in this situation. And she turned her face from the light to hide it, but he leaned in anyway, taking her jaw with his fingers, fingers brushing against her skin. Skye withdrew with a jerk, barely avoiding his lips that sought for hers. It didn't mean much that she'd missed the actual kiss, for it haunted her lips anyway, a ghost of a possibility touching her. She covered her lips with her shaking fingers, cleared her throat, and flinched as her back hit the table behind, leaving her caught between him and the table.
Clarity escaped him, replaced by bewilderment. This wasn't going the way he'd imagined, not at all. Curran had trouble grasping this, her unusual behavior. He'd honestly thought they had something here, shared a connection.
"I can't come with you," she finally uttered, sounding agitated. The way she looked at him beneath her wild hair was completely new, something vulnerable and aggressive at the same time.
"You don't have to be afraid of Lucas, Skye," Curran assured her, trying to move closer again, only to feel her extended arm push between them and keep him at a distance.
"I'm not afraid of him, Curran, I love him!" she finally confessed with a tainted voice, tears sneaking onto her cheeks.
The confession effectively stopped him, her, and everything around them. She watched him work it out in his head; how trust faded and suspicion crept in its place; how affection became disgust in just a few seconds. The shame of having fallen victim to her ploys determined his demeanor, a trace of aggression pushing aside her delusions of a happy ending where they could all solve things peacefully.
He averted his eyes from her, gasped barely aloud, something resembling a snicker escaping his lips next.
"He sent you to see if I could be trusted," Curran noted, returning his eyes to her.
She stiffened under their scrutiny, held her breath a bit too noticeably.
"You're not going to let me just go, are you?" Curran asked next, sounding downright vicious.
The implication was there, and although Skye wanted to deny it, it was true. She couldn't let him go, not when the Intel he had could put Lucas and Mira at danger. He read the answer on her face, disappointment shaking his body yet again, only milder this time.
"Which means, I can't let you go," Curran then commented, realizing the inevitability of the situation now. And while he didn't want it to be this person, the world was divided in those who were with him and those who were against him, Skye having chosen her side, and made her choice abundantly clear.
He slapped her extended hand from his way, breathing in anger at yet another rejection. Curran was already lunging at her before she had an opportunity to absorb his words fully. He came at her with a bit too much force, blowing the air out of her lungs as quietly as possible. But Skye was tricky prey; she slipped from his grip and threw herself on the ground, making a dive towards the nearest gun. She knew where Hicks kept her spare, and having seen lunacy flash in Curran's eyes, she didn't suspect one bit that things wouldn't get ugly now.
Skye was greeted by a kick to her stomach. It made her wail like an animal, gasp for air. She took the chance to scream her lungs out though, smiling feebly at the thought that someone would come now, that she only needed a few more minutes. Her joy was short-lived though as she heard the sound of him sheathing his knife above her and instead of crawling onwards, she turned to look at the man above her and the violent shine of his knife flashing when he moved.
She tasted blood in her mouth, the taste of her own mortality, while everything played like a slow-motion picture. It was a blur; how she saw someone push into the hut and between them. The two figures battled for control of the knife, knocking over the table and the lantern with it. Light and dark fought, shadows making no sense.
Skye reached for the gun in the crate by the exit, putting her everything into moving faster. Panic gave her strength; adrenaline pushed her into taking hold of the gun with surprisingly steady hands, and then pointing it at the fighting figures. But she only caught the part of the battle that mattered; the knife merging with the unintended victim, the blade sinking into flesh and tearing it with a sigh and a gasp, both uttered in surprise.
Tears burned her eyes as she watched Hicks fall without the knife, Curran still clutching it tightly in his grip, crimson all over his hands and the front of his shirt. Shock was all over his face, genuine regret present in his panicked eyes. It was different from before, different from planning things from afar. At least that way he could make himself believe it was almost like it had never happened at all. But this was real, this was tangible, and the warmth over his hands was life of the woman he'd laughed with, fought with and cried with.
But once he took notice of Skye again, saw the gun pointed at him, and the way the girl on the floor stared at him now, stripped of any sympathy she'd previously had, his grip became a squeeze, and his eyes regained focus in rage.
She saw him move, and she reacted accordingly. Skye pulled the trigger; she felt the gun recoil in her hands, her eyes closing as the deafening shot rang out. And she knew she shouldn't have, knew she needed to be stronger, but she closed them anyway, her instinct protecting her from the sight that would be etched into her mind forever. Curran fell backwards from the shot, his body slamming against the ground with a thump, the knife falling from his limp fingers.
He didn't move, and she didn't expect him to. At such close range, nothing short of a miracle could've saved him. Skye knew what she'd done was evil; she had no delusions about that. She also knew he'd rushed at her, knowing she could end it at any minute, choosing to be gunned down instead of surrendering. Curran had chosen this willingly, and she'd ended it with a clean shot, at least giving him the favor of a quick death.
A cry awoke her from her thoughts, made her lower the gun in her hands: Whimpers from the ground, not from Curran, but Hicks. She was still alive.
Skye heard noises all around them as the ruckus had awoken the camp from its usual slumber, but no one had made it inside the hut yet. She forced herself to move, to crawl towards Hicks in one final attempt to make things right.
"Hicks," she called weakly, trying her best to sound reassuring and strong, when in reality she was barely functioning herself. Skye pushed her on her feet, but they betrayed her, tossing her right back to her knees. She repeated the move though, this time succeeding in taking a few more steps to reach her friend's side.
Hicks was hyperventilating, her hand trying to stop the bleeding on her midsection. There was so much blood; Skye couldn't even make out where the wound was at first. She felt a wave of sickness pass through her once she realized Curran must've twisted the knife in the wound, judging by the size of it. Hicks didn't look responsive, her eyes were staring into the distance, only the sad sound of her ragged breathing convincing Skye she was holding onto life.
Skye pressed her hands against the wound, applying pressure, and watching with horror how it seemed to do no good. "You need to tell me what to do," Skye begged, "I don't know what to do!"
Hicks actually reacted to this, turning her head to Skye and smiling, like she'd told a joke. The interval between her distressed breaths suddenly decreased, and her breaths became fainter.
"…nothing you can do," Hicks winced, moving her bloodied hand over Skye's weakly. She brushed her bloody fingers over the back of Skye's hand gently, as if begging to be let go.
And her breathing slowed down some, and then some, before finally stopping altogether.
There were people inside the hut all of the sudden, hovering above Skye. She sobbed, refusing to stop applying pressure, her free hand trying to shake Hicks awake, to keep her conscious. She knew it to be futile, of course she did, yet she carried on anyway, joined by a silent congregation.
Carter positioned himself behind her, grabbing her by her armpits, tearing her away from the body casually. He tossed her aside, telling others to check the bodies, while he squatted by her. Skye didn't look away, not when they closed Hicks eyes, or fixed the table and brought in more lanterns to light the scene of the crime. She could hear Carter's questions, yet the answers escaped her, leaving her incapable of everything else but sobbing hysterically.
He slapped her once, twice, before realizing it wasn't going anywhere. Carter felt sorry looking at the blood smeared girl on the ground, and a thought crept on up him. Wasn't this their doing? Hadn't they pushed her into this by sending her back and forth time after time, and dividing her loyalties? Against his better knowledge, he tied his arms around her, letting go of the role Mira had trusted him with, and taking on a more familiar one.
"Wasn't your fault, Skye," he told her with a melancholy voice, and felt her sink into his arms.
TBC
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 19/?
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: I tried to write two scenes for this chapter, but after the first one... I just couldn't. It made a bit of a mess out of me.
Things Lost in the Fire
19. Razor's Edge
He watched them go in silence. It wasn't exactly a secret at the camp that Mira and Lucas weren't getting along with this new contact from their bosses, but watching them now, all those awkward gestures and the seething fire beneath their strained smiles, he just knew trouble was coming their way. It was exactly the kind of information he'd waited to report back, a nugget of gold that would buy him his freedom.
So Curran watched them load the rovers with supplies and set off in unison, accompanied by a few other Sixers for security. His gaze drifted to Skye who also observed from the sidelines, unusual gloom present in the way she held herself. He figured she'd exchanged words with Lucas Taylor, for the man had given him some cold stares these past hours.
Something had shaken her alright; her demeanor had been different since this Morris had arrived. He could see the shadow of fear on her face whenever she passed the man by or saw a glimpse of him. It didn't help that Lucas had been around the camp a lot more lately, his intense eyes searching for Skye wherever they went, always holding a seemingly judgmental thought.
Curran didn't quite know what the deal with the two of them was, but it was clear it was unhealthy for her, and that Lucas apparently felt something more for her than brotherly affection, which added another problem on his list. Curran hadn't expected to befriend Skye or care what happened to her, yet he was thinking ahead for the both of them, bound by the knowledge that she needed help as badly as he did.
Something needed to be done quickly. Time was running out, and he was sure Taylor didn't know his son was still working on the calculations despite the loss of the hard drive. With the Sixer leaders gone, Curran wouldn't get another chance this good again.
Despite the good rapport between him and most of the Sixers, Curran knew where his loyalties lied. These people were aiming to hurt the colony, to invade his home and destroy the work of the Commander, which made them his enemies by default. He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend he wasn't helping them do precisely this, like Skye had chosen to do in her darkest hour. No, Curran couldn't fault her; she'd been driven into a difficult position, and she'd lost all hope of going home again, which was why Lucas Taylor had been able to drag her along since she'd been discovered at Terra Nova.
Curran knew she was a good person beneath, simply in need of a second chance. He was sure the Commander would shelter them both if they arrived at his doorstep, carrying news that could end this stalemate. He knew Taylor cared for her like a daughter and suspected even her betrayal hadn't completely destroyed that relationship. Hope prevailed in the face of darkness.
Skye held onto the beverage she'd been offered, not even having realized the drink had gotten cold while she'd contemplated on this mess, lost inside her own head. She sat by a small fire, leaning her back against a log, warming her wet boots by the flames. It was shaping up to be another cold night in the jungle, the kind that snuck up on you and made you reach for someone, anyone, for warmth. The problem was she didn't want just anyone, she wanted Lucas.
They had exchanged some horrible words, and true to his family heritage, he'd left without solving the issues laid bare in front of them. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, for this had happened a few times during their short acquaintance already. Skye should've anticipated it, and avoided the issue by taking the higher ground and just refusing to argue.
But who was saying she was the adult here? She'd been yanked from her home and her family and thrust into this wild life she hadn't desired. She'd met a man, spent six months imagining him to be flawless, and then had those delusions crushed in the cruelest ways possible. When was her time to act out if not now?
"Your drink is cold," Hicks pointed out dryly as she returned to fire, sitting across Skye on the other side of the fire. She was fidgeting something in her hands, a piece of string she couldn't quite leave alone.
Skye frowned at the comment, bringing her cup to her lips to taste the drink and prove Hicks wrong, but her expression changed once she realized her mentor was right. Skye finished her drink sheepishly, feeling shame for have wasted this nice gesture. Hicks had noticed her head wasn't in its place today, and sat her down here mug in hand, telling her to take it easy.
"Sorry," Skye mumbled a half-hearted apology at the older woman, who proceeded to shrug it off like an annoyance.
Hicks had averted her eyes already; she was staring at the fire, the lively way the flames moved and ate everything in their path hungrily. She threw in a branch, listened to the way it cracked in the fire while devoured. "Never mind," Hicks then commented faintly, appearing listless and distant.
They hadn't known one another for a little more than a week, but their daily exposure to one another had lead to Skye picking up on things, like routines and moods. Hicks had been nothing but friendly to her; she'd taken Skye under her wing and made sure Skye didn't have too much time for loitering, for thinking of the past and present. In Skye's book, this made her a friend.
"Hey," she whispered softly, gaining her friend's attention. Skye took notice of the way Hicks seemed haunted even now, sadness present in her hazel eyes. "Does it get any easier?" she asked, truly yearning for an answer that would help overcome this feeling of helplessness. Skye never seemed to stay a stranger for it for long; it kept creeping right back into her life one way or another.
Hicks dialed back on her emotions at that moment, brushing away her own jaded past and experiences. She chose to give hope instead, recognizing herself in the young woman before her. "You need to control your own past before you can control your future, Skye," she advised, raising a brow.
Skye watched her throw the piece of string she'd played with into the fire a moment later, and with it her mood seemed to change as well.
Curran had appeared behind Hicks, dark eyes cast on Skye. Something about it didn't ring true tonight, didn't feel comfortable, and Skye rose with suspicion to meet her friend, who she'd been avoiding all day as per Lucas' request. Despite arguing against it, she'd seen the wisdom in Lucas' request. It was better for things to cool down for now.
Hicks didn't pay attention to Skye standing up and walking towards Curran. She just chucked pieces of barn at the fire like ammunition, seeking to shoot them at something.
"Hey," Skye greeted Curran, pushing her hands in her pockets. She felt a bit awkward today, having been called out on her behavior by Lucas of all people.
"Can we talk?" Curran asked, shooting Hicks' back a discreet look. He seemed uncomfortable being near his former friend, and Skye couldn't blame him. Rumors had been running around since their very loud reunion some days ago, and as far as she knew, the two still hadn't talked since.
"I was hoping to hit the sack, but as long as you make it quick…," she said, frustration bleeding into her voice. She wasn't lying though; all she needed and wanted right now was a good night's sleep, although she wouldn't mind if it lasted for the next three days.
"Sure," Curran promised and motioned them towards Hicks' hut nearby for some privacy.
Skye grabbed a lantern outside before entering to light the dark. She was greeted by the stench of disinfectants upon entering, yet it passed quicker nowadays since she was working here daily. There weren't that many patients at the camp, so Hicks sent her on other assignments quite often, but when something came up Hicks always included her.
Curran followed Skye inside, watched as she placed the lantern on the table and shot him with a questioning look. She didn't like trysts in the dark, not when Lucas had specifically warned her against it, yet she'd grown accustomed to this place. She genuinely believed there was no danger; that someone would hear her if she screamed.
"So what was it?" Skye asked, feeling like a school kid sneaking behind the teacher's back to do something against the rules. Only this time the feeling weighted her down instead of exhilarating her.
He moved closer to her, an intense look in his eyes, something she'd never seen before. All the signs of alarm were there, ignored by her tired mind that needed to be right about him after everything.
"What if I said there was a way for you and me to get back to Terra Nova?" he asked, his voice diminished into a whisper. It shook her awake, had her cursing silently, reminded of that nagging feeling she'd had and which she had ignored.
"Curran, I..," she started, not knowing how to finish.
"We're not safe here. You're not safe here, Skye," Curran hurried to explain, catching onto her hesitation. He read it differently though, seeing fear for things, certain people, she felt none for.
Amid the disappointment, slight anger even, she knew she needed to hear it all, find out how much damage he'd done if any. "What did you do?" she sighed, letting her lungs expel the distress from her; it didn't succeed, the pressure packed into her body more and more with each breath instead.
"We have leverage now. Taylor offered me sanctuary in return for Intel. And we both know he just wants you back safe and sound. Skye, he doesn't know Lucas is still fiddling with the calculations, or about this Morris guy! If we act quickly, they could even ambush the whole group at the Badlands, and it'd be all over. We'd be heroes, Skye," he explained to her, seeking for her eyes, her heart, her mind, with his words.
He could see her trembling with what he hoped was excitement, gratitude for giving her this way out. Curran reached for her hand with his, but she pulled it away, placed it on her heart, shaking her head. There was a pout on her lips, words were waiting to be spoken, but she lacked the will to speak them.
"It's ok, Skye," Curran said, understanding her hesitation. "You can come with me. You don't have to stay here, and you won't owe me anything. I just want you safe, because you deserve so much better than this," he explained, glancing around them sympathetically.
Skye wanted to back away, to scream from the top of her lungs and alert everyone, but this wasn't the way this was supposed to go! He was supposed to be this amoral killer, who wanted nothing more than to hurt everyone around him. He wasn't supposed to be someone this noble and concerned for her and with good damn reason too! And the worst part was that somewhere deep down she wanted to just take his hand and leave this mess behind.
Tears were in her eyes, uninvited guests in this situation. And she turned her face from the light to hide it, but he leaned in anyway, taking her jaw with his fingers, fingers brushing against her skin. Skye withdrew with a jerk, barely avoiding his lips that sought for hers. It didn't mean much that she'd missed the actual kiss, for it haunted her lips anyway, a ghost of a possibility touching her. She covered her lips with her shaking fingers, cleared her throat, and flinched as her back hit the table behind, leaving her caught between him and the table.
Clarity escaped him, replaced by bewilderment. This wasn't going the way he'd imagined, not at all. Curran had trouble grasping this, her unusual behavior. He'd honestly thought they had something here, shared a connection.
"I can't come with you," she finally uttered, sounding agitated. The way she looked at him beneath her wild hair was completely new, something vulnerable and aggressive at the same time.
"You don't have to be afraid of Lucas, Skye," Curran assured her, trying to move closer again, only to feel her extended arm push between them and keep him at a distance.
"I'm not afraid of him, Curran, I love him!" she finally confessed with a tainted voice, tears sneaking onto her cheeks.
The confession effectively stopped him, her, and everything around them. She watched him work it out in his head; how trust faded and suspicion crept in its place; how affection became disgust in just a few seconds. The shame of having fallen victim to her ploys determined his demeanor, a trace of aggression pushing aside her delusions of a happy ending where they could all solve things peacefully.
He averted his eyes from her, gasped barely aloud, something resembling a snicker escaping his lips next.
"He sent you to see if I could be trusted," Curran noted, returning his eyes to her.
She stiffened under their scrutiny, held her breath a bit too noticeably.
"You're not going to let me just go, are you?" Curran asked next, sounding downright vicious.
The implication was there, and although Skye wanted to deny it, it was true. She couldn't let him go, not when the Intel he had could put Lucas and Mira at danger. He read the answer on her face, disappointment shaking his body yet again, only milder this time.
"Which means, I can't let you go," Curran then commented, realizing the inevitability of the situation now. And while he didn't want it to be this person, the world was divided in those who were with him and those who were against him, Skye having chosen her side, and made her choice abundantly clear.
He slapped her extended hand from his way, breathing in anger at yet another rejection. Curran was already lunging at her before she had an opportunity to absorb his words fully. He came at her with a bit too much force, blowing the air out of her lungs as quietly as possible. But Skye was tricky prey; she slipped from his grip and threw herself on the ground, making a dive towards the nearest gun. She knew where Hicks kept her spare, and having seen lunacy flash in Curran's eyes, she didn't suspect one bit that things wouldn't get ugly now.
Skye was greeted by a kick to her stomach. It made her wail like an animal, gasp for air. She took the chance to scream her lungs out though, smiling feebly at the thought that someone would come now, that she only needed a few more minutes. Her joy was short-lived though as she heard the sound of him sheathing his knife above her and instead of crawling onwards, she turned to look at the man above her and the violent shine of his knife flashing when he moved.
She tasted blood in her mouth, the taste of her own mortality, while everything played like a slow-motion picture. It was a blur; how she saw someone push into the hut and between them. The two figures battled for control of the knife, knocking over the table and the lantern with it. Light and dark fought, shadows making no sense.
Skye reached for the gun in the crate by the exit, putting her everything into moving faster. Panic gave her strength; adrenaline pushed her into taking hold of the gun with surprisingly steady hands, and then pointing it at the fighting figures. But she only caught the part of the battle that mattered; the knife merging with the unintended victim, the blade sinking into flesh and tearing it with a sigh and a gasp, both uttered in surprise.
Tears burned her eyes as she watched Hicks fall without the knife, Curran still clutching it tightly in his grip, crimson all over his hands and the front of his shirt. Shock was all over his face, genuine regret present in his panicked eyes. It was different from before, different from planning things from afar. At least that way he could make himself believe it was almost like it had never happened at all. But this was real, this was tangible, and the warmth over his hands was life of the woman he'd laughed with, fought with and cried with.
But once he took notice of Skye again, saw the gun pointed at him, and the way the girl on the floor stared at him now, stripped of any sympathy she'd previously had, his grip became a squeeze, and his eyes regained focus in rage.
She saw him move, and she reacted accordingly. Skye pulled the trigger; she felt the gun recoil in her hands, her eyes closing as the deafening shot rang out. And she knew she shouldn't have, knew she needed to be stronger, but she closed them anyway, her instinct protecting her from the sight that would be etched into her mind forever. Curran fell backwards from the shot, his body slamming against the ground with a thump, the knife falling from his limp fingers.
He didn't move, and she didn't expect him to. At such close range, nothing short of a miracle could've saved him. Skye knew what she'd done was evil; she had no delusions about that. She also knew he'd rushed at her, knowing she could end it at any minute, choosing to be gunned down instead of surrendering. Curran had chosen this willingly, and she'd ended it with a clean shot, at least giving him the favor of a quick death.
A cry awoke her from her thoughts, made her lower the gun in her hands: Whimpers from the ground, not from Curran, but Hicks. She was still alive.
Skye heard noises all around them as the ruckus had awoken the camp from its usual slumber, but no one had made it inside the hut yet. She forced herself to move, to crawl towards Hicks in one final attempt to make things right.
"Hicks," she called weakly, trying her best to sound reassuring and strong, when in reality she was barely functioning herself. Skye pushed her on her feet, but they betrayed her, tossing her right back to her knees. She repeated the move though, this time succeeding in taking a few more steps to reach her friend's side.
Hicks was hyperventilating, her hand trying to stop the bleeding on her midsection. There was so much blood; Skye couldn't even make out where the wound was at first. She felt a wave of sickness pass through her once she realized Curran must've twisted the knife in the wound, judging by the size of it. Hicks didn't look responsive, her eyes were staring into the distance, only the sad sound of her ragged breathing convincing Skye she was holding onto life.
Skye pressed her hands against the wound, applying pressure, and watching with horror how it seemed to do no good. "You need to tell me what to do," Skye begged, "I don't know what to do!"
Hicks actually reacted to this, turning her head to Skye and smiling, like she'd told a joke. The interval between her distressed breaths suddenly decreased, and her breaths became fainter.
"…nothing you can do," Hicks winced, moving her bloodied hand over Skye's weakly. She brushed her bloody fingers over the back of Skye's hand gently, as if begging to be let go.
And her breathing slowed down some, and then some, before finally stopping altogether.
There were people inside the hut all of the sudden, hovering above Skye. She sobbed, refusing to stop applying pressure, her free hand trying to shake Hicks awake, to keep her conscious. She knew it to be futile, of course she did, yet she carried on anyway, joined by a silent congregation.
Carter positioned himself behind her, grabbing her by her armpits, tearing her away from the body casually. He tossed her aside, telling others to check the bodies, while he squatted by her. Skye didn't look away, not when they closed Hicks eyes, or fixed the table and brought in more lanterns to light the scene of the crime. She could hear Carter's questions, yet the answers escaped her, leaving her incapable of everything else but sobbing hysterically.
He slapped her once, twice, before realizing it wasn't going anywhere. Carter felt sorry looking at the blood smeared girl on the ground, and a thought crept on up him. Wasn't this their doing? Hadn't they pushed her into this by sending her back and forth time after time, and dividing her loyalties? Against his better knowledge, he tied his arms around her, letting go of the role Mira had trusted him with, and taking on a more familiar one.
"Wasn't your fault, Skye," he told her with a melancholy voice, and felt her sink into his arms.
TBC