Terra Nova - Things Lost in the Fire ch21 [Skye/Lucas]
Title: Things Lost in the Fire
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 21/?
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: Morris distracted me. I suffer from a writer's syndrome that gets me emotionally attached to OCs even though they're complete assholes. Also Morris vs Mira is just too much fun to write...
Things Lost in the Fire
21. Whisper to a Scream
Minutes extended into hours until they were standing in the dark, lighting the crater with torches and waiting for Lucas to finish. Mira laid on the sandy edge of the crater comfortably, enjoying the feel of the smooth sand beneath her. Morris was lying beside her, also supporting his upper body with his elbows to get a clear view of Lucas at his work.
Tensions had been on the rise today between them, but things had settled down a bit since Lucas' discovery. They had left the others to work whilst playing a lazy game of cards on the sand until the light had died out. Now they just watched, hidden in the dark, outside the protective ring of the torches, as both liked the anonymity of the shadows better. Mira couldn't lie though; she shivered because of the cold, wanted nothing more than to lie down with closed eyes.
Her sleep had been restless since their journey had started, and she didn't know why really. Morris had made no indication that he would harm her as she was a good ally to keep, yet his closeness made her extremely vexed. She missed home: the camp with all of the others, their nocturnal noise, and the warmth on everyone's face when she addressed them. Morris reminded her of how it'd been in the future. The world was cold then, poverty and disease raged rampant and Mira had had her share of misfortunes, even living on the streets for a brief period.
She kicked the sand off her boots for a second, trying to find a better position, yet the chill found her again, and her movement caught Morris' attention as well. They shared a look; he even appeared concerned before he tossed her his jacket that he'd kept beneath his head. Morris didn't make a big deal out of the gesture, he just watched as Mira stared at the piece of clothing on her lap with proud eyes, unwilling to accept any handouts from him.
After awhile he settled to a new position and moved his hand beneath his head, relaxing seemingly in her presence. Mira then took the jacket begrudgingly and pulled it over her shoulders. It reeked of him, reminded her of the only other person she'd ever allowed to take care of her: Carter. She returned her gaze to Lucas hastily, refusing such thoughts.
There was a glow to Lucas, an enthusiasm that was catching. He'd become emerged in his work, in this research he conducted largely through trial and error. He didn't have equipment suited for this kind of work, yet he tried to learn as much as possible, finding a side of him he'd thought he'd lost a long time ago. The discovery seemed to bring life to him, free him of the dark thoughts he'd been keeping as of late.
Mira suspected the joy was short-lived though. It wasn't in the cards for them to control this position. She lacked the manpower to defend this, and Lucas alone wasn't enough to get this fracture put to use. Whatever the Company wanted with the second fracture, she was afraid it would involve a gamble that would put her people in danger needlessly.
The sound of Morris shuffling the cards in his hands distracted her from Lucas, drawing her eyes upon the enemy again. He flipped a single card out of the deck with just one hand and watched it rise above the rest. It was the queen of spades.
"What are you trying to achieve?" Mira asked him softly. Her patience was growing thin with his subtle hints and confusing body language.
Morris chuckled at her, tossing the card at her. It ended up stuck in the sand facing Mira. She could see a flash of his teeth in that smile. "Passing the time, Mira. Just passing the time," he responded, a hidden challenge standing out in his voice.
Another low breath of wind pushed at them, reminded her of the deceptiveness of the Badlands. In some nights the temperature got well below zero, and in the morning the sun scorched everything in its way. Nothing survived here for long.
She picked the card from the sand, brushed her thumb over its worn surface as she leaned over her knees, seeking warmth. The queen in the card was regal and prideful; she carried a blade in her hands, a spark in her eye. The queen of Spades was Athena, the ancient goddess of wisdom. Was that how Morris saw her?
"He's not going to open that portal for you or for me," Morris then told her, casting a long glance at Lucas. He sounded contemplative, but not bitter.
Mira wanted to stay quiet even as the option made her insides scream. She wanted to be on Lucas' side more than anything; she owed him as much. But in the end, old debts were poor substitutes for blood, for love. The love of a parent was potent, primal. It exceeded everything else. And Mira had promised Sienna she would be back for her.
"It's possible," Mira murmured in approval, hating herself for even entertaining this conversation.
Morris glanced at her discreetly, finding solace in her begrudging concession of his ideas. "What will you do?" he then asked, flipping the deck in his hands and snapping out another card; it was the queen of hearts.
"He will have to say it to my face," Mira answered with conviction. She was truly an iron maiden, someone you didn't dare to cross unless you had no other choice.
"She will not allow him to harm Terra Nova," Morris then announced, and sent the card flying at Mira. It landed by her feet, grains of sand falling over the red queen eagerly. She held a heart in her hand, and her expression was softer. In the back of her mind Mira recalled the omen that was related to woman associated with this card, Judith.
Mira swallowed painfully. The thought of harming Skye Tate had become more and more difficult. She hadn't wanted to care about this girl, it was something she'd been fighting for three years, and yet her heart had crumbled at the sound of this girl pleading for her mother in her sleep. Her throat felt incredibly dry suddenly as she reached for the card by her and picked it up.
"And she has her protectors. She is so likable, that young woman," Morris continued to muse. Another card was separated from the deck, this one appearing a bit more torn and weathered than the rest, and he flicked it at her like the rest.
The knave of spades stared back at her, loyal and unflinching. Mira sighed. Morris didn't miss anything; he was too perceptive for their games. Her lips twitched at the sight of the knave, who'd been folded in the middle. The card had suffered abuse, but remained intact, protecting the red queen whenever needed.
"Carter can do whatever he wants," Mira settled to answer, although she wasn't pleased with the way Carter had taken a liking to the younger woman. She already had two men head over heels in love with Skye Tate to worry about, and she was certain they would case enough problems on their own.
Morris sat up, bringing the cards to his lap. He stared right at Lucas' back as he spread the deck in the sand in front of him and flipped a single card, revealing the king of clubs. He was a cruel man, ruthless in appearance and a visible hunger upon his features. It was the face of a conqueror.
He was about to push the deck back in order, when Mira's hand landed on his as she leaned over to him, eyes stuck on the card on the sand. Morris stopped what he was doing, and looked at her instead. Deceivers, heroes, thugs, thieves and mad men - the deck had a face for everything, but it was rare for him to offer compliments. His eyes followed her hand to the edge of his jacket that covered her skin and then back as she flipped another card and then another, searching for the right one. Morris had given his appreciation to this woman from the first time they had met, and he was still certain she'd earned it, whether she turned out to be an ally or a foe.
Mira lingered near him, knelt in the sand, flipping cards and focusing on this subtle mind game he'd started. Then she found what she was looking for, and placed the card right in front of him, defiance visible on her face. It was the king of diamonds, which alluded to none other than Caesar.
Mira looked straight at him now, leaning closer and whispering, "I've been stuck in hell with a deck of cards and enthusiasts who wanted nothing more than to tell me about history and myth involving the game." She recalled the countless lessons she'd gotten: roles of kings and queens, the people depicted in them. She'd heard about it until she could think of nothing else.
He grinned, impressed with her.
"Your hints aren't exactly subtle, Morris," she then hissed, pulling back and tossing the cards at his face in her anger. But she was angrier at herself than him, for allowing him to pull her in his wake for awhile, for actually listening to this serpent.
Mira then stood up and dropped his jacket from her shoulders, choosing to walk back to the others. She left Morris sitting alone. He gathered the cards she'd thrown, piled them in a neat deck and went right back to lying comfortably on the sand. Morris stared at the stars above, barely bothered with his botched attempt at showing Mira what needed to be done. She'd made her choice.
But Mira walked right up to Lucas, hands tied around her shoulders, fingers rubbing warmth into her skin. "Is it anything we can use?" Mira asked him tentatively, speaking to him for the first time in hours.
Lucas stirred a bit, turning to her like he hadn't even noticed her here until now. He'd rolled up his sleeves, there were sketches all over, and he was biting down to a pen with his teeth. He removed the pen from his mouth, glancing at Morris suspiciously, and then returning his eyes to Mira.
"No," he then admitted. "Not with our resources."
Mira pressed her head down in defeat. They had wasted hours here, and Morris had gladly entertained that futility. Why?
"Pack up, we're going back," Mira then advised with a muffled voice.
Lucas looked surprised and he frowned almost immediately. "Are you sure?" he asked, clearly willing to examine his findings more.
"It's time to go home," Mira settled to announce before walking away, and motioning the rest of them into motion.
Morris didn't react to her commands, he just star-gazed eagerly. It had been enough, he was sure of it.
They buried her with silence. The cavalcade had been silent, their walk full of reverence. And on her grave they planted a tree, a seed of a new beginning. Skye saw many other graves, the saplings that marked them. Theirs was a violent life, often too short to be remembered. That is why they carved their names into the old tree trunk, this dead thing at the centre of their graveyard.
Skye approached the dead tree, knife in hand. She began carving slowly, but the action became more violent and jarring as she progressed. The Sixers had no religion, just custom. Their customs were an odd mix of tradition, sense and sensibilities. No one got buried with anything they could use, there were no headstones, nothing to identify the bodies with. But the tree remained at the center of it all, an unyielding testament to the people buried in its shadow.
Once she was done carving the message, Skye stopped to read the other names on the tree. There were many here, too many. She could see people had also carved personal sentiments into the wood, and her eyes swelled with tears again. She wiped them in the sleeve of her shirt and passed on the knife to the next person in line.
This was a strange forest. At first glance you couldn't tell it was any different from the rest, but with some contemplation the trees appeared a bit too organized around the old tree. There were spots where the trees were young and vigorous, and a lot of saplings around them. Death brought with it a promise of a new beginning.
Their elegy was mostly silent. There were no speeches, no words of solace. Death was a common occurrence with the Sixers, yet every one of their dead was remembered. And following this unseen script somehow made it all bearable. Of course there were tears, there was sorrow, and there was anger, but those emotions were kept in check until they left the burial site.
Skye found herself wondering if Curran would get a soldier's funeral, if the cannons would sound for him, if they would pull up the flags and salute him. In Terra Nova people would wear their funeral clothes, eat food, listen to others talk and grief together. But with the Sixers grief was personal, and everyone was first and foremost a member of this community instead of being an individual. Their headstone was a dead tree, their graves indistinguishable.
Skye stayed up with the most of the camp that night. The burned a pyre in the woods, the smoke rose into the skies and showed miles away. It was reckless, but at least the fire was far from the camp. Carter had had others go through Hicks' things earlier and now they burned what couldn't be used by others. There were a few photos, an old journal, and some ruined clothes. Skye held a bundle of Hicks' necklaces in her hands, contemplating whether she ought to burn them too. Eventually she decided against it.
The fire burned for hours, eventually dying when it had nothing more to feed on. Skye fell into her bed, Lucas' bed, sometime later, forgetting to undress herself first. The exhaustion claimed her soon after, nightmares paved the way for a restless night.
Morris eyes were cast firmly into the scenery during the entire ride back. He didn't attempt to rekindle the conversation with his hostess, or even keep up the pretense that everything was alright. Instead he played with the cards in his hands, pulling cards from his sleeves, making them disappear and reappear in the deck - anything to keep his hands occupied and his thoughts in one place. Mira didn't object.
Lucas slept most of the way, exhausted by his earlier enthusiasm to explore the second fracture. It was strange that he felt more comfortable in a moving vehicle than in one of his safe houses, but it was a remnant of the past, of the life he'd led moving from one place to another because of his father's career. Of course nothing had given him such sweet rest as sleeping with Skye did: the feel of her body, her scent, her warmth - Lucas hadn't thought he could miss it so much.
It was a misty day. The temperature had dropped rapidly during the night and clouds had gathered in the sky. The mist seemed to seep from every pore of the earth, it pooled on the surface, gathered where ever it could. It made their return all the more ominous. Even the dinosaurs seemed to avoid their small convoy and lurk in the woods instead.
By the time they reached the camp, they only had a few hours of daylight left. Mira drove their rover to a distant spot and left Morris without as much as a word. Once out of the car, she begun advising the others on how to strip the rovers of supplies and where to carry the few items they had brought back with them.
Lucas had woken up some time prior, and was still feeling a tad groggy from his sleep. He stood by the rovers, not knowing what he should do. Morris had exited the rover as well and he leaned against its door, folding the deck of cards in his hands with a frown. He didn't seem his usual self now, not since yesterday.
Of course word of their return reached the camp quickly, and many hurried towards them with mild greetings and enthusiasm. Mira couldn't quite make sense of their apathy until Skye Tate appeared into view and her wrathful eyes found Mira and then Morris. Mira sensed the danger in an instant, and her brain urged to step in the middle of it, but she was tired of playing the police, so instead she just continued to haul the equipment away from the rovers.
Lucas noticed Skye in the crowd and his expression softened for a second with recognition and adoration. It was short-lived when he realized Skye wasn't even looking at him, but that her rather aggressive focus was completely on Morris. Skye launched into motion, striding towards Morris before anyone could act. The operative noticed her approach, yet mistook it for enthusiasm to see her lover and ignored it. It gave her the perfect chance to connect her first with his face as soon as she reached him.
The smack was enough to draw everyone's attention. The punch burned Skye's hand, pain flashed on her face and engulfed her fingers, but the satisfaction of seeing his bloodied lip was reward enough. And his very clear surprise confirmed her suspicions.
"You son of a bitch!" she yelled at him, facing the bewildered man head-on. It didn't take Lucas more than few seconds to force himself between Skye and Morris, and warn his associate with a stern look against retaliation.
Morris sucked the blood from his lip and spat, barely phased b y the punch at all. His grin had a mean dimension to it though, a cruelness none of them had witnessed before.
"Careful there miss Tate," Morris mumbled, feeling his jaw and cheek, where she'd punched him. He took twisted delight in the fact that she'd probably injured herself worse than him - at least her fingers appeared like they might be broken.
Lucas tried to claim Skye's eyes, but she was too far gone in her rage, she stared right past him. "It was me, wasn't it?" she roared at Morris. "You went to Curran and scared him shitless, because you wanted him to make a move on me!"
Lucas tensed immediately and turned to Skye, recognizing the signs of injury in her only now: Fresh bruises, a jaded expression. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her until she looked back at him. "Are you alright? What happened?" he inquired, while Morris merely smiled behind him.
Her eyes cast on Morris, Skye explained everything with a disillusioned voice, "Curran came to me. He thought I was in danger, and said we needed to go to Terra Nova, that he had a deal with Taylor. When I refused he panicked and attacked me."
She drew a painful breath, tears snuck into her voice. "And Hicks stepped in to help and he stabbed her! He stabbed her to death Lucas!"
Mira's eyes were wide with shock. She took a couple of stilted steps forward, unable to believe her ears. And she looked around them for someone, anyone, who'd tell her it was a sick joke, just a lie. It wasn't. The truth was on every face that observed this exchange.
Lucas was boiling with rage. He'd known, he'd felt it in his gut. "Where is he?" he inquired.
"I shot him," Skye said, the final revelation sinking into Lucas with a bang.
His grip faltered, his mistakes haunting him suddenly. He'd left her here alone, at the mercy of Curran, forced her into this position by giving her the damn assignment in the first place! Guilt was all over his face, but his body responded when Skye tried to push past him to have another go at Morris; Lucas' hands were suddenly around Skye, restraining her while she tried to struggle free.
"You fucking piece of shit pushed him! You wanted him to snap!" she accused, screaming her voice hoarse. Her voice was partly buried in Lucas' chest, as he held her close, stroking her hair and her back while she tried to hold onto the negative energy that sustained her. This rage was so ugly, so destructive - for the first time Lucas recognized it for what it was.
Mira stepped in at this point. "Lucas, take her away," she commanded, leaving no room for objections. There were tears in her eyes, and she'd brushed several tears from her cheeks already. She looked at Morris with harshness, leaving Skye's accusations hanging in the air without trying to rebuff them.
Lucas listened to Mira with this and began hauling the kicking and shouting girl in his arms away, while Carter moved to his spot to support Mira, appearing as serene as always.
Mira and Morris shared a look, a charged wordless exchange. Then he pulled a card from the deck, flashing a smile at her. It was the knave of hearts, although the face of the knave had been severely scratched; you could barely make you who it was supposed to be.
Morris watched Mira's muscles tense at the sight of the card, this obvious admission of guilt, before he moved to walk by her and stopped to whisper in her ear, "Was that subtle enough for you?"
He then continued his walk past her, leaving her behind to suppress her anger and grief. She held back a sob and then another until the worst was past. But no matter how hard she tried, the tears wouldn't leave her eyes, and when Carter's fingers brushed against her shoulder, she turned to him and let him bury her in an embrace.
Carter held her tight; let her break down in the face of this senseless tragedy without losing face. He caressed her back with assuring motion, felt her tears on the front of his shirt. But Mira made no sound, her grief was silent.
"She was a good woman," Mira finally breathed, barely loud enough for him to hear. She didn't pull away, just stayed as she was, letting his closeness drive away the rest of the world.
"Yes she was," Carter replied.
Further away Lucas had finally gotten Skye to calm down and stop pounding his chest with her fists. He grabbed her hand from her wrist and took a look at her hand, sighing with disappointment almost immediately. Her middle finger was already swollen and bruised, and it looked sensitive to touch as well. Adrenaline had to be blocking the pain for now, but if she kept at it, she could hurt it worse.
"Don't ever do that again," he told her, worry blinding him to everything else. The grief and the deaths seemed distant to him when all he could see was Skye doing the very thing they had warned her against since Morris' arrival. You just didn't kick the hornet's nest!
Skye looked worn, joyless. She acknowledged the reason behind his worry, but couldn't help feeling this way.
"I asked Bael what Morris was doing before leaving. I hear he had a nice long conversation with Curran," she explained numbly. Bael had been on Morris' tail since his arrival, taking turns in watching their guest with a few others, and he'd been more than willing to discuss Morris' movements with Skye, as well as the few things he'd overheard.
"Did you see his face?" she asked next, pointing her unscathed hand at the direction they had come from. "The bastard did it Lucas," Skye explained. "He provoked Curran, thinking I would either show my true colors or get killed."
Lucas' attention was on her hand though. He was still holding it carefully, observing her middle finger. She flinched in pain once he moved his hand to her fingers and tried to manipulate their position a bit to examine their condition. It was becoming quite clear that she had a fracture in her finger. Gladly, the other fingers seemed just a tad banged.
"Who taught you how to punch, Bucket?" Lucas asked with a lighter tone, running his fingers over her hand to balance the pain he'd caused her when he'd examined her finger. The effect this simple contact had on Skye was visible; she slipped out of her anger and into a mood of confusion and desire. Lucas swallowed when she didn't answer his quip, recognizing that it wasn't so easy to fall into old habits.
"I think you broke it," he then assessed.
Skye knew he was right; she was the one with the medical experience after all. She'd had to split many injuries like this back at the infirmary. Usually the splint had been enough when coupled with rest for a recovery, but every once in awhile Doctor Shannon had had to perform surgery as well.
"It needs a splint," Skye replied after a small pause.
He was still holding her hand. Their fight seemed distant and unrelated. It was better to be together than apart, even when it hurt, even when the pressure outside felt like too much. They both recognized this.
"You were right," she admitted, having held this guilt inside her for two days now. "I played with fire and got burned."
Lucas didn't feel right. He didn't feel satisfaction or a sense of victory, just empty. "It was wrong to put you in that position and I shouldn't have left," he then countered her confession.
Skye inched closer to him, felt him release her injured hand as she pressed herself against him, sinking into his embrace. She'd never felt as alone as she had that night. Even with everyone's sympathies and assurances that she'd done the right thing, she hadn't been able to convince herself of the fact. But with Lucas here she could finally just be.
Lucas held her tight, raked her hair comfortingly and just stood there unwavering. Something was swelling inside him, knowledge of how things should be and what he needed to do to achieve this. He was done playing by the rules, lying in wait for another catastrophe. "Skye?" he called her, felt her respond to his voice and becoming attentive.
"This won't happen again," he assured her. "I'm going to make a deal with him."
Skye believed him.
"But I need you to stay out of the way. He won't hesitate to use you against me, if you step up again," he then begged her.
TBC
Fandom: Terra Nova
Ship: Skye/Lucas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bad language, sexual situations, AU
Chapter: 21/?
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: Morris distracted me. I suffer from a writer's syndrome that gets me emotionally attached to OCs even though they're complete assholes. Also Morris vs Mira is just too much fun to write...
Things Lost in the Fire
21. Whisper to a Scream
Minutes extended into hours until they were standing in the dark, lighting the crater with torches and waiting for Lucas to finish. Mira laid on the sandy edge of the crater comfortably, enjoying the feel of the smooth sand beneath her. Morris was lying beside her, also supporting his upper body with his elbows to get a clear view of Lucas at his work.
Tensions had been on the rise today between them, but things had settled down a bit since Lucas' discovery. They had left the others to work whilst playing a lazy game of cards on the sand until the light had died out. Now they just watched, hidden in the dark, outside the protective ring of the torches, as both liked the anonymity of the shadows better. Mira couldn't lie though; she shivered because of the cold, wanted nothing more than to lie down with closed eyes.
Her sleep had been restless since their journey had started, and she didn't know why really. Morris had made no indication that he would harm her as she was a good ally to keep, yet his closeness made her extremely vexed. She missed home: the camp with all of the others, their nocturnal noise, and the warmth on everyone's face when she addressed them. Morris reminded her of how it'd been in the future. The world was cold then, poverty and disease raged rampant and Mira had had her share of misfortunes, even living on the streets for a brief period.
She kicked the sand off her boots for a second, trying to find a better position, yet the chill found her again, and her movement caught Morris' attention as well. They shared a look; he even appeared concerned before he tossed her his jacket that he'd kept beneath his head. Morris didn't make a big deal out of the gesture, he just watched as Mira stared at the piece of clothing on her lap with proud eyes, unwilling to accept any handouts from him.
After awhile he settled to a new position and moved his hand beneath his head, relaxing seemingly in her presence. Mira then took the jacket begrudgingly and pulled it over her shoulders. It reeked of him, reminded her of the only other person she'd ever allowed to take care of her: Carter. She returned her gaze to Lucas hastily, refusing such thoughts.
There was a glow to Lucas, an enthusiasm that was catching. He'd become emerged in his work, in this research he conducted largely through trial and error. He didn't have equipment suited for this kind of work, yet he tried to learn as much as possible, finding a side of him he'd thought he'd lost a long time ago. The discovery seemed to bring life to him, free him of the dark thoughts he'd been keeping as of late.
Mira suspected the joy was short-lived though. It wasn't in the cards for them to control this position. She lacked the manpower to defend this, and Lucas alone wasn't enough to get this fracture put to use. Whatever the Company wanted with the second fracture, she was afraid it would involve a gamble that would put her people in danger needlessly.
The sound of Morris shuffling the cards in his hands distracted her from Lucas, drawing her eyes upon the enemy again. He flipped a single card out of the deck with just one hand and watched it rise above the rest. It was the queen of spades.
"What are you trying to achieve?" Mira asked him softly. Her patience was growing thin with his subtle hints and confusing body language.
Morris chuckled at her, tossing the card at her. It ended up stuck in the sand facing Mira. She could see a flash of his teeth in that smile. "Passing the time, Mira. Just passing the time," he responded, a hidden challenge standing out in his voice.
Another low breath of wind pushed at them, reminded her of the deceptiveness of the Badlands. In some nights the temperature got well below zero, and in the morning the sun scorched everything in its way. Nothing survived here for long.
She picked the card from the sand, brushed her thumb over its worn surface as she leaned over her knees, seeking warmth. The queen in the card was regal and prideful; she carried a blade in her hands, a spark in her eye. The queen of Spades was Athena, the ancient goddess of wisdom. Was that how Morris saw her?
"He's not going to open that portal for you or for me," Morris then told her, casting a long glance at Lucas. He sounded contemplative, but not bitter.
Mira wanted to stay quiet even as the option made her insides scream. She wanted to be on Lucas' side more than anything; she owed him as much. But in the end, old debts were poor substitutes for blood, for love. The love of a parent was potent, primal. It exceeded everything else. And Mira had promised Sienna she would be back for her.
"It's possible," Mira murmured in approval, hating herself for even entertaining this conversation.
Morris glanced at her discreetly, finding solace in her begrudging concession of his ideas. "What will you do?" he then asked, flipping the deck in his hands and snapping out another card; it was the queen of hearts.
"He will have to say it to my face," Mira answered with conviction. She was truly an iron maiden, someone you didn't dare to cross unless you had no other choice.
"She will not allow him to harm Terra Nova," Morris then announced, and sent the card flying at Mira. It landed by her feet, grains of sand falling over the red queen eagerly. She held a heart in her hand, and her expression was softer. In the back of her mind Mira recalled the omen that was related to woman associated with this card, Judith.
Mira swallowed painfully. The thought of harming Skye Tate had become more and more difficult. She hadn't wanted to care about this girl, it was something she'd been fighting for three years, and yet her heart had crumbled at the sound of this girl pleading for her mother in her sleep. Her throat felt incredibly dry suddenly as she reached for the card by her and picked it up.
"And she has her protectors. She is so likable, that young woman," Morris continued to muse. Another card was separated from the deck, this one appearing a bit more torn and weathered than the rest, and he flicked it at her like the rest.
The knave of spades stared back at her, loyal and unflinching. Mira sighed. Morris didn't miss anything; he was too perceptive for their games. Her lips twitched at the sight of the knave, who'd been folded in the middle. The card had suffered abuse, but remained intact, protecting the red queen whenever needed.
"Carter can do whatever he wants," Mira settled to answer, although she wasn't pleased with the way Carter had taken a liking to the younger woman. She already had two men head over heels in love with Skye Tate to worry about, and she was certain they would case enough problems on their own.
Morris sat up, bringing the cards to his lap. He stared right at Lucas' back as he spread the deck in the sand in front of him and flipped a single card, revealing the king of clubs. He was a cruel man, ruthless in appearance and a visible hunger upon his features. It was the face of a conqueror.
He was about to push the deck back in order, when Mira's hand landed on his as she leaned over to him, eyes stuck on the card on the sand. Morris stopped what he was doing, and looked at her instead. Deceivers, heroes, thugs, thieves and mad men - the deck had a face for everything, but it was rare for him to offer compliments. His eyes followed her hand to the edge of his jacket that covered her skin and then back as she flipped another card and then another, searching for the right one. Morris had given his appreciation to this woman from the first time they had met, and he was still certain she'd earned it, whether she turned out to be an ally or a foe.
Mira lingered near him, knelt in the sand, flipping cards and focusing on this subtle mind game he'd started. Then she found what she was looking for, and placed the card right in front of him, defiance visible on her face. It was the king of diamonds, which alluded to none other than Caesar.
Mira looked straight at him now, leaning closer and whispering, "I've been stuck in hell with a deck of cards and enthusiasts who wanted nothing more than to tell me about history and myth involving the game." She recalled the countless lessons she'd gotten: roles of kings and queens, the people depicted in them. She'd heard about it until she could think of nothing else.
He grinned, impressed with her.
"Your hints aren't exactly subtle, Morris," she then hissed, pulling back and tossing the cards at his face in her anger. But she was angrier at herself than him, for allowing him to pull her in his wake for awhile, for actually listening to this serpent.
Mira then stood up and dropped his jacket from her shoulders, choosing to walk back to the others. She left Morris sitting alone. He gathered the cards she'd thrown, piled them in a neat deck and went right back to lying comfortably on the sand. Morris stared at the stars above, barely bothered with his botched attempt at showing Mira what needed to be done. She'd made her choice.
But Mira walked right up to Lucas, hands tied around her shoulders, fingers rubbing warmth into her skin. "Is it anything we can use?" Mira asked him tentatively, speaking to him for the first time in hours.
Lucas stirred a bit, turning to her like he hadn't even noticed her here until now. He'd rolled up his sleeves, there were sketches all over, and he was biting down to a pen with his teeth. He removed the pen from his mouth, glancing at Morris suspiciously, and then returning his eyes to Mira.
"No," he then admitted. "Not with our resources."
Mira pressed her head down in defeat. They had wasted hours here, and Morris had gladly entertained that futility. Why?
"Pack up, we're going back," Mira then advised with a muffled voice.
Lucas looked surprised and he frowned almost immediately. "Are you sure?" he asked, clearly willing to examine his findings more.
"It's time to go home," Mira settled to announce before walking away, and motioning the rest of them into motion.
Morris didn't react to her commands, he just star-gazed eagerly. It had been enough, he was sure of it.
They buried her with silence. The cavalcade had been silent, their walk full of reverence. And on her grave they planted a tree, a seed of a new beginning. Skye saw many other graves, the saplings that marked them. Theirs was a violent life, often too short to be remembered. That is why they carved their names into the old tree trunk, this dead thing at the centre of their graveyard.
Skye approached the dead tree, knife in hand. She began carving slowly, but the action became more violent and jarring as she progressed. The Sixers had no religion, just custom. Their customs were an odd mix of tradition, sense and sensibilities. No one got buried with anything they could use, there were no headstones, nothing to identify the bodies with. But the tree remained at the center of it all, an unyielding testament to the people buried in its shadow.
Once she was done carving the message, Skye stopped to read the other names on the tree. There were many here, too many. She could see people had also carved personal sentiments into the wood, and her eyes swelled with tears again. She wiped them in the sleeve of her shirt and passed on the knife to the next person in line.
This was a strange forest. At first glance you couldn't tell it was any different from the rest, but with some contemplation the trees appeared a bit too organized around the old tree. There were spots where the trees were young and vigorous, and a lot of saplings around them. Death brought with it a promise of a new beginning.
Their elegy was mostly silent. There were no speeches, no words of solace. Death was a common occurrence with the Sixers, yet every one of their dead was remembered. And following this unseen script somehow made it all bearable. Of course there were tears, there was sorrow, and there was anger, but those emotions were kept in check until they left the burial site.
Skye found herself wondering if Curran would get a soldier's funeral, if the cannons would sound for him, if they would pull up the flags and salute him. In Terra Nova people would wear their funeral clothes, eat food, listen to others talk and grief together. But with the Sixers grief was personal, and everyone was first and foremost a member of this community instead of being an individual. Their headstone was a dead tree, their graves indistinguishable.
Skye stayed up with the most of the camp that night. The burned a pyre in the woods, the smoke rose into the skies and showed miles away. It was reckless, but at least the fire was far from the camp. Carter had had others go through Hicks' things earlier and now they burned what couldn't be used by others. There were a few photos, an old journal, and some ruined clothes. Skye held a bundle of Hicks' necklaces in her hands, contemplating whether she ought to burn them too. Eventually she decided against it.
The fire burned for hours, eventually dying when it had nothing more to feed on. Skye fell into her bed, Lucas' bed, sometime later, forgetting to undress herself first. The exhaustion claimed her soon after, nightmares paved the way for a restless night.
Morris eyes were cast firmly into the scenery during the entire ride back. He didn't attempt to rekindle the conversation with his hostess, or even keep up the pretense that everything was alright. Instead he played with the cards in his hands, pulling cards from his sleeves, making them disappear and reappear in the deck - anything to keep his hands occupied and his thoughts in one place. Mira didn't object.
Lucas slept most of the way, exhausted by his earlier enthusiasm to explore the second fracture. It was strange that he felt more comfortable in a moving vehicle than in one of his safe houses, but it was a remnant of the past, of the life he'd led moving from one place to another because of his father's career. Of course nothing had given him such sweet rest as sleeping with Skye did: the feel of her body, her scent, her warmth - Lucas hadn't thought he could miss it so much.
It was a misty day. The temperature had dropped rapidly during the night and clouds had gathered in the sky. The mist seemed to seep from every pore of the earth, it pooled on the surface, gathered where ever it could. It made their return all the more ominous. Even the dinosaurs seemed to avoid their small convoy and lurk in the woods instead.
By the time they reached the camp, they only had a few hours of daylight left. Mira drove their rover to a distant spot and left Morris without as much as a word. Once out of the car, she begun advising the others on how to strip the rovers of supplies and where to carry the few items they had brought back with them.
Lucas had woken up some time prior, and was still feeling a tad groggy from his sleep. He stood by the rovers, not knowing what he should do. Morris had exited the rover as well and he leaned against its door, folding the deck of cards in his hands with a frown. He didn't seem his usual self now, not since yesterday.
Of course word of their return reached the camp quickly, and many hurried towards them with mild greetings and enthusiasm. Mira couldn't quite make sense of their apathy until Skye Tate appeared into view and her wrathful eyes found Mira and then Morris. Mira sensed the danger in an instant, and her brain urged to step in the middle of it, but she was tired of playing the police, so instead she just continued to haul the equipment away from the rovers.
Lucas noticed Skye in the crowd and his expression softened for a second with recognition and adoration. It was short-lived when he realized Skye wasn't even looking at him, but that her rather aggressive focus was completely on Morris. Skye launched into motion, striding towards Morris before anyone could act. The operative noticed her approach, yet mistook it for enthusiasm to see her lover and ignored it. It gave her the perfect chance to connect her first with his face as soon as she reached him.
The smack was enough to draw everyone's attention. The punch burned Skye's hand, pain flashed on her face and engulfed her fingers, but the satisfaction of seeing his bloodied lip was reward enough. And his very clear surprise confirmed her suspicions.
"You son of a bitch!" she yelled at him, facing the bewildered man head-on. It didn't take Lucas more than few seconds to force himself between Skye and Morris, and warn his associate with a stern look against retaliation.
Morris sucked the blood from his lip and spat, barely phased b y the punch at all. His grin had a mean dimension to it though, a cruelness none of them had witnessed before.
"Careful there miss Tate," Morris mumbled, feeling his jaw and cheek, where she'd punched him. He took twisted delight in the fact that she'd probably injured herself worse than him - at least her fingers appeared like they might be broken.
Lucas tried to claim Skye's eyes, but she was too far gone in her rage, she stared right past him. "It was me, wasn't it?" she roared at Morris. "You went to Curran and scared him shitless, because you wanted him to make a move on me!"
Lucas tensed immediately and turned to Skye, recognizing the signs of injury in her only now: Fresh bruises, a jaded expression. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her until she looked back at him. "Are you alright? What happened?" he inquired, while Morris merely smiled behind him.
Her eyes cast on Morris, Skye explained everything with a disillusioned voice, "Curran came to me. He thought I was in danger, and said we needed to go to Terra Nova, that he had a deal with Taylor. When I refused he panicked and attacked me."
She drew a painful breath, tears snuck into her voice. "And Hicks stepped in to help and he stabbed her! He stabbed her to death Lucas!"
Mira's eyes were wide with shock. She took a couple of stilted steps forward, unable to believe her ears. And she looked around them for someone, anyone, who'd tell her it was a sick joke, just a lie. It wasn't. The truth was on every face that observed this exchange.
Lucas was boiling with rage. He'd known, he'd felt it in his gut. "Where is he?" he inquired.
"I shot him," Skye said, the final revelation sinking into Lucas with a bang.
His grip faltered, his mistakes haunting him suddenly. He'd left her here alone, at the mercy of Curran, forced her into this position by giving her the damn assignment in the first place! Guilt was all over his face, but his body responded when Skye tried to push past him to have another go at Morris; Lucas' hands were suddenly around Skye, restraining her while she tried to struggle free.
"You fucking piece of shit pushed him! You wanted him to snap!" she accused, screaming her voice hoarse. Her voice was partly buried in Lucas' chest, as he held her close, stroking her hair and her back while she tried to hold onto the negative energy that sustained her. This rage was so ugly, so destructive - for the first time Lucas recognized it for what it was.
Mira stepped in at this point. "Lucas, take her away," she commanded, leaving no room for objections. There were tears in her eyes, and she'd brushed several tears from her cheeks already. She looked at Morris with harshness, leaving Skye's accusations hanging in the air without trying to rebuff them.
Lucas listened to Mira with this and began hauling the kicking and shouting girl in his arms away, while Carter moved to his spot to support Mira, appearing as serene as always.
Mira and Morris shared a look, a charged wordless exchange. Then he pulled a card from the deck, flashing a smile at her. It was the knave of hearts, although the face of the knave had been severely scratched; you could barely make you who it was supposed to be.
Morris watched Mira's muscles tense at the sight of the card, this obvious admission of guilt, before he moved to walk by her and stopped to whisper in her ear, "Was that subtle enough for you?"
He then continued his walk past her, leaving her behind to suppress her anger and grief. She held back a sob and then another until the worst was past. But no matter how hard she tried, the tears wouldn't leave her eyes, and when Carter's fingers brushed against her shoulder, she turned to him and let him bury her in an embrace.
Carter held her tight; let her break down in the face of this senseless tragedy without losing face. He caressed her back with assuring motion, felt her tears on the front of his shirt. But Mira made no sound, her grief was silent.
"She was a good woman," Mira finally breathed, barely loud enough for him to hear. She didn't pull away, just stayed as she was, letting his closeness drive away the rest of the world.
"Yes she was," Carter replied.
Further away Lucas had finally gotten Skye to calm down and stop pounding his chest with her fists. He grabbed her hand from her wrist and took a look at her hand, sighing with disappointment almost immediately. Her middle finger was already swollen and bruised, and it looked sensitive to touch as well. Adrenaline had to be blocking the pain for now, but if she kept at it, she could hurt it worse.
"Don't ever do that again," he told her, worry blinding him to everything else. The grief and the deaths seemed distant to him when all he could see was Skye doing the very thing they had warned her against since Morris' arrival. You just didn't kick the hornet's nest!
Skye looked worn, joyless. She acknowledged the reason behind his worry, but couldn't help feeling this way.
"I asked Bael what Morris was doing before leaving. I hear he had a nice long conversation with Curran," she explained numbly. Bael had been on Morris' tail since his arrival, taking turns in watching their guest with a few others, and he'd been more than willing to discuss Morris' movements with Skye, as well as the few things he'd overheard.
"Did you see his face?" she asked next, pointing her unscathed hand at the direction they had come from. "The bastard did it Lucas," Skye explained. "He provoked Curran, thinking I would either show my true colors or get killed."
Lucas' attention was on her hand though. He was still holding it carefully, observing her middle finger. She flinched in pain once he moved his hand to her fingers and tried to manipulate their position a bit to examine their condition. It was becoming quite clear that she had a fracture in her finger. Gladly, the other fingers seemed just a tad banged.
"Who taught you how to punch, Bucket?" Lucas asked with a lighter tone, running his fingers over her hand to balance the pain he'd caused her when he'd examined her finger. The effect this simple contact had on Skye was visible; she slipped out of her anger and into a mood of confusion and desire. Lucas swallowed when she didn't answer his quip, recognizing that it wasn't so easy to fall into old habits.
"I think you broke it," he then assessed.
Skye knew he was right; she was the one with the medical experience after all. She'd had to split many injuries like this back at the infirmary. Usually the splint had been enough when coupled with rest for a recovery, but every once in awhile Doctor Shannon had had to perform surgery as well.
"It needs a splint," Skye replied after a small pause.
He was still holding her hand. Their fight seemed distant and unrelated. It was better to be together than apart, even when it hurt, even when the pressure outside felt like too much. They both recognized this.
"You were right," she admitted, having held this guilt inside her for two days now. "I played with fire and got burned."
Lucas didn't feel right. He didn't feel satisfaction or a sense of victory, just empty. "It was wrong to put you in that position and I shouldn't have left," he then countered her confession.
Skye inched closer to him, felt him release her injured hand as she pressed herself against him, sinking into his embrace. She'd never felt as alone as she had that night. Even with everyone's sympathies and assurances that she'd done the right thing, she hadn't been able to convince herself of the fact. But with Lucas here she could finally just be.
Lucas held her tight, raked her hair comfortingly and just stood there unwavering. Something was swelling inside him, knowledge of how things should be and what he needed to do to achieve this. He was done playing by the rules, lying in wait for another catastrophe. "Skye?" he called her, felt her respond to his voice and becoming attentive.
"This won't happen again," he assured her. "I'm going to make a deal with him."
Skye believed him.
"But I need you to stay out of the way. He won't hesitate to use you against me, if you step up again," he then begged her.
TBC