Wounds Still Linger (3/?)
Title: Wounds Still Linger
Ship: Guzman/Mira, Skye/Carter, Wash/Taylor
Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance
Rated: PG-13
Word Count: 2961
Summary: There are two souls missing from the recent trip OTG.
Part One
Part Two
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“Son of a bitch!”
His exclamation resounds through the camp, alerting the two men resting in their tents that something was amiss. His footsteps (he does not make the added effort to avoid fallen branches and dry leaves, instead lets them signal his approach) carry him to Taylor, the diligent boy scout at his side, armed and at the ready within seconds of his yell, all the while rubbing the tender spot on his back of his head, the sky lightening into its morning colors, the pinks and oranges that proceed the rising of the sun.
For all his experience and years as Mira’s second in command and friend, this was something he never expected, hadn’t seen coming. He’d seen her in one of her moods many times before, knows that once she sets her mind to something, (almost) nothing and (almost) no one could dissuade her from following through.
It seemed those few occasions (he could count them on one hand) he had proven successful in talking her against her plans had caused him to believe he could do so again, made him over-confident.
And last night he’d been proven right. She was dead set on confronting Lucas, nothing, not even him, would stop her and it scared him. She was not one to take out her anger on anyone besides herself (not the healthiest outlet he knew) and on the person who had caused it in the first place and that’s what she was going to do.
Not the passive-aggressive type, she would unleash her pent up frustrations and rage at being cast aside, on not receiving her (their) end of the bargain, on spending the last three years as nothing more than puppets in a greater scheme that she (they) had cared less about at the time.
As much as he hates knowing that he will more than likely never see his sister again, not unless Lucas does indeed find another portal (and start a new mess more horrible than the last), he’s had to accept the fact of the matter. Understandably, he had been pissed at first (everyone had) but there was nothing he could do about it, nothing any of them could. He would have been driven to madness worrying over the what-ifs had it not been for Skye. And for her he’s willing to put the past aside and live in the present.
“Where’s Mira?” Taylor asks, casting a quick glance about the camp.
“She’s gone.” At this the older man quickly shifts, frustrated, only to stiffen moments later as he tells him the reason for her absence.
“How does she know his location?”
“There’s a safe house about ten klicks south from here, more than likely where he’s been hiding out if he wants to stay close to the Badlands.”
He hesitates before he continues, not entirely sure if he should voice his opinion, hazards that Taylor already knows. “If she finds him, this won’t end well.”
A brief period of time passes, hardly worth note in the grand scheme of things, but it lets him know that despite everything Lucas had done, the father still cared. He can’t read the man but something behind his eyes tells him he’s struggling, if only for a moment, with something before he puts an end to the discussion.
“He’s made his choices, he’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
They proceed to disassemble their tents, store belongings away into their packs before lugging them onto their backs and set off before the sun had a chance at climbing any higher into the sky. (Reynolds hands him a tiny spray bottle, tells him it should alleviate the pain. He snorts. Damn boy scouts. Always prepared.)
He estimates that he’d been unconscious for five to six hours, giving Mira plenty of time to reach the safe house. Taylor quickly lets him know that he’s free to go in search of Mira but he refuses. He’d see the lieutenant extracted from the enemy camp first and as soon as he did, he’d set off to find his friend.
He had more than a few choice words for her in mind once he found her.
-----
Alicia could only think of one other time she felt as horrible as she did in this very moment. The effort it took to rise from the cot alone was comparable to the strain she experienced during physical therapy all those years ago after her injury in Somalia. Had yet to lessen in intensity after all this time. She thought she had masked her groan of discomfort but if the coppery taste of blood on her tongue was any indication, biting her lip did not prove useful.
The young boy who laid on the opposite side of the tent, Adam, quickly springs up from his sleeping bag on the floor to assist her. She has her pride, would attempt to shrug him off if her body were remotely cooperative. However, she lets him guide her and help her sit down on the only chair in the large tent, her muscles protesting all the while.
It’s been three weeks since she’s awoken from her coma, her mind struggling to remember what had occurred to land her in such a predicament, out in the wild with no one but a boy for company and three mercenary soldiers with sour dispositions policing her every move.
Were it not for him, she’d be left inside to pass the day in boredom and waste away from lack of water and food. He often shared his meager portions, said she needed it more than him, and even went out of his way to catch small game when possible.
The first days after she came to passed in a haze, bits and pieces emerging from the depths of her memory, assembling together like a puzzle, before it all finally came back to her. A gun pointed at her, telling Shannon and his family to run for it, her last words to Lucas. She thought that had been her last stand.
She was a soldier, knew the possibility of dying by someone’s hand was great, inevitable perhaps, but she had let her guard down once she found herself in Terra Nova. Here, there was nothing out to get you except dinosaurs, some plants and insects.
Despite their problems with the Sixers, no one had ever lost their life in the altercations. The weapons and posturing were all for show. That is until Lucas and his blood thirsty army arrived. But to be fair, the Sixers hadn’t played a role in the executions. She had even seen them try to step in and put a stop to it.
“They should be here today,” he whispers to her, a look of utter relief in his face.
She’s been privy to the conversations between him and Mira, sometimes Carter. Usually occurred when they went on their walks, her exercise he told the guards. She didn’t want to get her hopes up though. It just seemed too simple, was uneasy at the prospect that Nathaniel was walking into a trap but had to agree with Adam that Lucas may be a genius, but a strategist never. She had only seen him once during her time here, had seen the unfocused look in his eyes, far gone, crazed. He didn’t spare her a glance as a matter of fact.
“I hope they get here soon,” is her reply.
His eagerness causes her to smile at the young man. He’d told her about the happenings in the Phoenix camp. Lacking purpose and food, they were tearing at the seams. Many had perished at the hands of predators, others defected in a foolish attempt at survival in the jungle. They were paid soldiers, knew nothing of what they were getting themselves into. It seemed a suiting end to them despite the darkness of the thought.
Karma.
“What are you looking forward to, Adam?” Her question distracts him from his task. He’s peeling a strange pink fruit, proceeds to cut it into small pieces and drops them into a wooden bowl as she stares at it in wonder.
“It only grows around this area but it’s hard to find. I came across it on one of my earlier walks when I was communicating with Mira, asked her about it. She said it was safe to eat and pretty filling.”
He lifts the bowl to her so she could have a taste. Once her tongue surrounds the intriguing morsel, her taste buds go into overdrive. It’s like sweet ambrosia, can’t help the soft moan that escapes her.
“Was saving it for a special occasion,” he reveals with a smile.
They continue in amicable conversation before the sound of a body dropping onto the ground outside interrupts them, then another. It had to be them, him. It had to be.
Her heart races, her hands shake, her breath catches as the flap of the tent is pushed aside to allow entrance. The rays of sunlight that follow him in blind her a moment but she knows, without a doubt, her heart confirming her suspicions, that it’s him. Broad shoulders, beautifully sculpted arms hidden by the dark armor are the first things she makes out.
When she finally rests her eyes on his glacier blue ones, a warmth washes over her, propels her to stand (this time she doesn’t feel the pain) and take the few steps necessary to bring her to him as he meets her halfway. His body radiates a heat that envelopes her senses, his smile causing the butterflies in her belly to flutter about as he cups her face in his calloused hands, leaning his forehead against hers, ebony locks acting as a curtain, shielding them in a private moment.
His voice is deeper than usually. “Wash.” His lips graze hers. “Always did love it when you wore your hair down.”
-----
She had been vigilant on her way to the safe house, cautious. Knowing how deranged Lucas could be, she wouldn’t put it past him to set up a booby trap, a deterrent for anything getting too close. That she was familiar with the area, knew what to look out for, allowed her to find her way (even in the dark) without any surprises.
The blooming sky facilitated the rest of the journey to the location. Once she made the outlines of the tree house up in the sky, sheltered by thick branches and dense leaves, she feels her nerves tingle, a strange vibration running up and down her body she mistakes as anticipation.
She takes hold of the zip line with her left hand, gun ready in her right as the air that accompanies being pulled up into the trees whooshes past her. Carefully, she steps onto the platform, surveys the balcony before proceeding inside and finds nothing but paper littering the floor, notes and calculations written in different sized font. Some pages holding neatly recorded computations while others are nothing more than a jumble of letters and numbers, an exasperated mess of things.
She finds nothing that could pass for food and knew his desire to best his father had suppressed his appetite. Only a bucket of water remained in the corner of the room. The same tubes and vials that had decorated his place back at their main camp placed in much the same arrangement, a blanket thrown on the floor only a few feet away. The only light to make it inside came from the entrance, fell short, the far corners bathed in darkness.
She walks around the room carefully, taking note of anything that might let her know his current position on finding another portal despite having a feeling that it would be in vain. The clutter on the floor, the change in his careful recording practices, were clear.
He had not. He failed to replicate his prior findings. And as much as she’d like to celebrate this small victory over him, she couldn’t, because his failure was her failure. She had promised her daughter she’d come back for her. Made a promise she thought she could keep.
She’d been so close. All those years leading up to that fateful day only to be sent on an errand to the Badlands for some damn artifact. She feels that suppressed rage rise inside her, her hatred for the man she’s in search of take over and unleash on the contents of the table. She swipes everything onto the floor, overturns the table in a fit, yells obscenities into the air that does nothing to ease her pain.
Her heavy breathing the only sound alerting anyone to her presence as she finally falls against the wall and slides down, her face in her hands, leans against her bent knees. The tears she’s been holding for too long finally make their way down her cheeks, mourning the loss of her daughter. She doesn’t know how long she stays there, sitting and staring at nothing, until that same feeling, that tingle from before washes over her, makes the hair on her arms stand on end.
She picks up her weapon and makes her exit, looks around as she descends from the top to the ground below. Something’s wrong, she knows it. She walks over to the brush that she had emerged from earlier, scans the area once more before it lands on a tree across from her. There lies an old carcass, a small animal having met his demise not at the hands of a human but a hunter, torn to shreds and a few days old.
How she had missed it she doesn’t know but she knew she had been right about Lucas. He had taken measures, not to keep people away but to have them meet their end. He had altered the dynamics of the area, had added, somehow, this place to the hunting grounds of a predator, slashers more than likely.
She scans the vegetation around her (even though she knows if they don’t want to be seen they won’t), doesn’t feel a pair of eyes on her but she knew better than to tempt fate.
The day will arrive when Lucas Taylor would pay but today was not the it and with that, she runs in the direction she came from and fails to see the head of a reptile emerge from a large bush twenty yards away.
-----
The air feels cool on his bare chest as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as his mind ponders the statistics of the trip OTG. It would take two days for the search party to reach Wash’s location and another two days for them to return. If they managed to extract her in the early hours and make it out of the jungle and back to the rovers before sunset, however, they could possibly make it back to the colony by dawn or early morning of the third day (if they drove all night). He knew that was pushing it but he couldn’t imagine the commander waisting any time in getting his lieutenant back on safe ground.
And he’d be fooling himself if he thought his urgency at their return had nothing to do with Mira. He knew her well, knew how her mind worked and wouldn’t put it past her to use the trip as a way to head outside the gates in search of Lucas. He’d seen the look on her face before she departed from the colony for the Badlands during the occupation. Whatever had transpired between them would be settled one way or another.
He’d taken to pacing the commander’s office between stacks of paper work. Nothing worth note had happened in the last two days, Shannon having taken care of all the minor issues that had arisen and is only left with his thoughts and worries.
He’s heard the whispers among the colonists, the rumor mill at full force. Heard the vile things said about Mira, Skye and Carter, the other ex-Sixers not the objects of ridicule as often but just as vehemently. His own name had reached his ears from time to time. How stupid he must be to have fallen for it? How was it that Taylor hadn’t removed him from his position as chief of security? What exactly had Mira done to get him wrapped around her finger?
Could they blame him for falling in love? Hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably. Even today, try as he might, he cannot deny the truth. He’s still in love with her despite the time apart. It’s the very reason he had gone to see her after the bar brawl two weeks ago, to make sure she was all right and to tell her that she still remained in his thoughts.
They weren’t as tense around each other now but he knew they wouldn’t make any more progress unless they confronted their issues. He knew she had tried that night in the training complex but his anger hadn’t, wouldn’t let him listen.
The crackle of his comm. stirs him away from his thoughts as he reaches for it on his nightstand. One of the guards in the communications tower relays Taylor’s message, says they were due to arrive in an hour, a little after day break, Lt. Washington safe and eager to arrive home. A sense of relief washes over him as he gets ready for the day, ready to meet his commander at the gate, welcome back the lieutenant and rest of the team.
Mira.
But as a lone rover approaches and its four occupants exit the vehicle, his smile at Wash is only half-hearted as he takes note of the absence of the two former Sixers.
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