The Things that remain Chapter 2
Title: Things that remain (Agony)
Character/Pairing: Lucas/Skye
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-17
Summary: After finale Terra Nova, a Lucket Fanfiction for The Lucket Valentine Challenge.
Author’s Note: Translated from Italian Language, edited and corrected by Jemmalynette, a wonderful woman. And now, for the chapter "Sick" joins the gang also Littlestefania, who has edited and translated.
Agony (three months after the Occupation)
When he opens his eyes, there's a throbbing pain that comes from his back, his legs, his kidneys, from every point of his body, and the suffering was breathtaking. Agony.
Lucas suddenly remembers.
Everything that has happened: the martial law wanted by his father, the judicial process. He remembers the face of his father while executing the sentence. The blood spatter. His blood. At least Skye had not seen it. Lucas remembers what he whispered to his father.
Hopes intensely of having split his rotten heart. He pauses. Laughter begins to make its way between his lips, and something on his right side makes a noise - an annoying, consistent beep, just behind his right ear.
"Dr. Shannon, he's awake," says a female voice.
"Lucas, Just try to stay calm! I'm injecting the painkiller," says the reassuring voice of Dr.Shannon.
Her husband, standing behind her, did not look happy. His face had that sick, nauseated expression. Lucas expected that he was the executioner.
After all, was he not the damned Sheriff, the puppet in the hands of The Commander? The funny thing was seeing Young Shannon whiten progressively in the corner, and at the slightest drop of blood, turn around and throw up.
It was the last thing Lucas had seen before passing out. But in the end, all of this was worth it, because he had done it for her. Years of equations, calculations, plans, the loneliness - his icy heart had been eager to get to this. He had surrendered to everything, to the dictatorship of his father and his insane dream of having a Paradise over which to reign. He had surrendered to the metal door of that small brig in which he was confined, at least for another year.
He had surrendered for a smile. To no longer feeling so alone. To having someone, to being loved just for what he was.
He was not a soldier, he would never be a hero, nor a good son.
Not even a good man.
But he was loved.
Finally.
Character/Pairing: Lucas/Skye
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-17
Summary: After finale Terra Nova, a Lucket Fanfiction for The Lucket Valentine Challenge.
Author’s Note: Translated from Italian Language, edited and corrected by Jemmalynette, a wonderful woman. And now, for the chapter "Sick" joins the gang also Littlestefania, who has edited and translated.
Agony (three months after the Occupation)
When he opens his eyes, there's a throbbing pain that comes from his back, his legs, his kidneys, from every point of his body, and the suffering was breathtaking. Agony.
Lucas suddenly remembers.
Everything that has happened: the martial law wanted by his father, the judicial process. He remembers the face of his father while executing the sentence. The blood spatter. His blood. At least Skye had not seen it. Lucas remembers what he whispered to his father.
Hopes intensely of having split his rotten heart. He pauses. Laughter begins to make its way between his lips, and something on his right side makes a noise - an annoying, consistent beep, just behind his right ear.
"Dr. Shannon, he's awake," says a female voice.
"Lucas, Just try to stay calm! I'm injecting the painkiller," says the reassuring voice of Dr.Shannon.
Her husband, standing behind her, did not look happy. His face had that sick, nauseated expression. Lucas expected that he was the executioner.
After all, was he not the damned Sheriff, the puppet in the hands of The Commander? The funny thing was seeing Young Shannon whiten progressively in the corner, and at the slightest drop of blood, turn around and throw up.
It was the last thing Lucas had seen before passing out. But in the end, all of this was worth it, because he had done it for her. Years of equations, calculations, plans, the loneliness - his icy heart had been eager to get to this. He had surrendered to everything, to the dictatorship of his father and his insane dream of having a Paradise over which to reign. He had surrendered to the metal door of that small brig in which he was confined, at least for another year.
He had surrendered for a smile. To no longer feeling so alone. To having someone, to being loved just for what he was.
He was not a soldier, he would never be a hero, nor a good son.
Not even a good man.
But he was loved.
Finally.