Closure? (fic)
Title: Closure?
Characters: Taylor/Wash, Lucas
word count: 5379
Genre: angst, action, WTF
Spoilers: season 1
Warnings: some violence, swearing, implied sexy times
Summary: Everyone needs closure, right?
A/N: sky_kiss and her war... This is a truce fic because I also had trouble with it. Enjoy the ending.
It's been eleven long years, and there's one thing he's learned in the past six months: it still has a hold on him. The whole losing his memory thing didn't mean much, it was only an excuse to him. What mattered, because this was very clear, was his willingness to give up his life to escape that pain he'd hidden.
But he'd not been able to put that pain away again, and it had haunted him ever since.
Oh, he'd told Wash about it. Couldn't hide it from her even if he'd wanted it to. She knew him too well, could read the little nuances in his body language and behavior and looks, and could see the misery as easily as the sun in the sky.
The first night, after that incident, she'd come to him and tended to his bruised body, loved him, but it hadn't been enough. Too fresh, all over again. Telling her he was sorry a hundred times that night didn't help, that Ayani would always be there no matter how much he tried to forget her.
No matter how much he loved Alicia.
And now she was gone too.
Doc Shannon had been very specific and very adamant in her directions that he rest until she was satisfied with the progression of the healing in his side. It wasn't quite as bad as 2138, but it wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy either.
Perhaps this was his time, nothing drastic, but to just fade into the background and not bring this pain and misery to anyone else. His malaise served his wound well: less than a day back and he'd done nothing other than brood.
It was a frantic call that got him moving, faster than he should have as he felt the stitches pull, to the hospital. Jim Shannon was there, waiting for him at the door, blocking his way.
"Not yet," the man said, and stopped him from entering. "Let Liz do her job first." He actually put his arms around Taylor when the commander refused to be stayed by words alone. "Don't. Let them help her."
It was all he could do to not shove Shannon aside and charge into the hospital.
"You'll be the first to know, when she's better."
***
Left, not for dead, but to die slowly in a heap with all the other people the invaders had killed, that's where they'd found her. And it had been a near thing, maybe hours they'd said, before her body would have shut down completely.
Dehydration mostly, compounded by the terrible head injury she'd sustained, topped by exposure left Lieutenant Washington the frightening shell of the woman he knew unconscious in bed before him.
The lights were low and Taylor found himself dozing in the chair next to the bed with her slack hand resting in his own.
Time was all Doc Shannon would say. Time for her body to finish repairing itself; they'd done all they could with their knowledge and technology and medicine. So he waited, and nobody questioned it while they rebuilt the colony outside.
Most people if they were in a coma for longer than three days never came out. It was a small thing, then, that everything said she was not in a coma, just a state of utter exhaustion, and she would wake up eventually.
She would.
She had to.
It was fitting that the day they finished returning the command center to full functionality Wash finally opened her eyes.
He gripped her hand, not too tightly, and smiled. His voice, barely audible, was choked with emotion when he said, "Welcome home, Wash."
***
Wash was strong, stubborn, and independent as hell, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't like being babysat, but there was no denying she needed it. Her body felt... frail. Not just weak, but actually frail, like she might break something if she ever fell down.
"It's time."
Her steps were careful, slow, measured as she made her way to the bathroom.
"Do you want some help?"
"Not yet." Help was the last resort; eventually she'd have to do these things by herself with nobody waiting just outside the door for her. The amount of injuries she'd sustained over her lifetime was nothing to scoff at, but never had she been so completely drained, even being shot in Somalia, that undressing became such an ordeal.
Taylor appeared in the doorway as she was just kicking off her pants. Just a casual glance in her direction before he crossed in front of her and started the bath.
If it hadn't been specifically ordered by Dr. Shannon, Wash would have ignored such a ridiculous thing. There was no denying the overall... pleasantness of it, but that also made it feel very distinctly like an indulgence, which Wash didn't believe in so much. Still, she couldn't stop the warm tingling that started in her toes and gradually filled her at the sight of Taylor sitting at the side of filling bath.
An indulgence... This was practically a need. A near death experience changed a person. Two of them? Wash just about thought of herself as a whole new person; she just hoped Taylor would be able to understand that when the inevitable changes started showing up in earnest. There was no predicting what the changes might be, only that she was different now, and that being who she had been sounded very tiring.
Getting her shirt off took effort, and the bra took special effort that left her breathing heavily. "Nathaniel," she said suddenly, keeping her eyes on her feet, avoiding looking at him, "I don't think I can do this anymore."
Of course he was standing in front of her instantly, taking hold of her hands, trying to look in her eyes. "Wash. Alicia, what do you mean?"
She smiled, and though it was a little sad, all full of pity for herself, there was light in it as well just for him. "Not us. Us is the only thing I think I can keep doing. But I don't think I can be your second anymore. I don't think I can be a soldier." She fought the burning sensation in her eyes, setting her mouth in a frown and lowering her gaze once again. "It... hurts too much. Everything hurts."
The warmth and protection of his embrace had never felt so good before, his voice never so soothing.
"Then you don't have to be."
Muffled, her face against his shoulder, she said, "I'm so tired."
The sudden clench of his arms, the near-painful squeeze, and the kiss he gave to the top of her head spoke volumes.
But you're alive.
"Here," he said, the words clearly more difficult to speak than it would seem, "if I don't do this Doc Shannon'll have my head."
One shot, a cocktail of things a mile long to assist in her healing, a topical solution that was supposed to help with the more superficial nagging aches and pains, and a hot bath were far from the worst treatments she'd ever received from a doctor, but if not for Taylor being there, Wash would have ignored it all except the shot. He made sitting in a tub of her own lukewarm filth bearable.
"If only we had some scotch," she said as she looked down at the near-full tub.
"We'll have to start making our own. I don't trust Boylan to make anything that's not paint thinner."
"I don't want to wait twelve years for it."
In reply, he hummed from the back of his throat. "Guess you're shit out of luck then."
"Guess so."
"Here, let's get this on you."
Every day the process is much the same. They're both quiet, maybe a little somber, as he rubs her down with the ointment, working it well into her skin and massaging her muscles until she's almost boneless. Then the shot, just a tiny prick in her upper arm, and then he assists her into the water.
And as always, he undresses and follows her in, situating himself behind her so she can recline against his chest.
Wash sighed, almost with contentment, at the heat surrounding her and his hands stroking lightly across her sensitive skin. "You're a horrible tease, you know that?"
"You can just tell me to stop."
"You know I won't."
"I know."
They sat in the bath that way, close and comfortable, until the water cooled. Without any assistance, which made her proud, Wash got up and out of the bath, and draped herself in a towel. The physical pains were clearing up, but nothing seemed to fight off the weariness that hung on her from morning to night, waking until bed.
She went to the bedroom, and crawled into bed, still in the towel. Middle of the day and in bed... "I'm not fit to be on duty anyway."
"You'll get there. Were you this hard on yourself before?"
Somalia. "Yes."
"You shouldn't be." Taylor entered the bedroom in a t-shirt and boxers giving her a disapproving look. "Both times, it was my fault. If there's anyone you should mad at, disappointed in, anyone you should hate, it's me."
Both of them knew she wouldn't even though what he'd said was true. And hate him? The idea was ludicrous.
Wash held out her hand in invitation. Emotions were too much effort to sort out, and the important ones were all out in the open between them. She loved him and he loved her, and Wash didn't care about much else at the moment.
As he settled into bed behind her and held her to him, Wash found no reason to change things.
***
"You're pushing yourself too hard."
Maybe that was true, but she wouldn't quit. Wash took another swing, grunting as she put the rest of her flagging strength into it.
Taylor took a step backward, not even a fast one, to avoid it. "Dammit, Wash, are you listening to me?"
She tried again, this swing even slower than the last, with the same results. "All due respect, sir, fight me."
"I'm not fighting you. You're not in any shape for full contact sparring."
"In your opinion." She pushed, but it was slow, lacking decisiveness.
"You're damn right it's my opinion." The next punch she threw he caught and pulled her to him. "And it's a fact. Just stop, until you've got more of your strength back. Stop."
It was a brief struggle until Wash dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "I want to stop, but I can't. I can't."
***
It was a dilemma Taylor didn't know quite how to handle. Wash was hurt much deeper than he'd seen her before, maybe worse than when she'd been shot, and he had no experience in rehabilitation. His own had been... haphazard, and hardly successful. Taking notes from it was a silly idea when Wash's situation was so personal, so unique.
Sleep was one of the very few times she looked at peace.
There had to be some way to give that to her, the peace to know she could finally stop, that she didn't have hurt any longer, or push herself to exhaustion to always prove something. She'd proved herself years ago to him, and that was all that mattered in the end.
A soft kiss pressed to her neck, and he settled in for the night next to her.
***
It was the first morning she was able to complete the patrol, even if she was exhausted at the end of it. This was progress that she should have been proud of, but it did nothing for her mood. It was becoming apparent the problem was more than simple exhaustion, lingering weakness, or physical fatigue.
In her eyes, Taylor saw the way her spirit flagged; she was close to giving in completely.
He'd seen it before, in a few soldiers before they'd been sent home for observation and then never returned. Not only was it an impossibility here, but he'd never allow it to happen. Maybe she didn't want to hear it, but he'd take care of her even when she didn't believe she needed or deserved it.
This time she needed it.
***
"That is ridiculous."
"Yes."
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"You're insane."
"Maybe. You know I've been called worse things. By you."
That brought up a ghost of a smile. "I suppose I have. But that's still--"
"Crazy, I know. But I've seen something, in your eyes." He touched her cheek with his fingertips. "I don't want you to end up like those boys that--"
"I'm not anything like them!"
"Alicia, you are. I know you don't think so, don't want to think so, but I can see it. Don't deny it. Just let me help you."
She shoved him away, a look of frustration and vague anger masking her features. "You can't help me! You didn't before, so what can you do now?"
It hurt him, the pain visible in the twist of his lips as he stared at her.
"I don't need you to take care of me!" Wash turned and marched away.
There was a noticeable lack of trudging or limping in her steps.
This was the Wash Taylor was used to seeing.
***
"Just let me--"
"No!" he snapped, causing Jim to take a step back. "This is for me and Wash. And if we don't come back, then you know what you have to do, Shannon." Taylor felt a little bad for the shock on the other man's face, to be putting him in such a terrible position. "I'm sorry, Jim, but we have to go. I'm sorry."
It was a possibility nobody else in the colony would understand, not even the soldiers that knew them best. Nobody had lived for as long as they had on the edge of life and death, saved and taken as many lives as they had, experienced and survived as much misery as they had. No, Shannon wouldn't understand why they had to do this, but he nodded and stepped back. He understood that they did need to it.
Under the cover of darkness, early in the morning when almost everyone was still asleep, Taylor and Wash drove out of the gate in one of the reclaimed Phoenix rovers and into the jungle.
***
"Trail's cold."
"Not surprising. How long's it been since they cleared out?"
"Weeks."
"You expected to find fresh footprints?"
He gave her a wry grin. "No, it just means they left and didn't come back. They've got no interest in the colony."
Wash shook her head. "For now. So we're going to follow them all the way to the badlands?"
"If we have to." Taylor got back into the rover and started it. "We're going to go as far as we have to."
***
When the days of traveling turned into a week, they found their first sign of human life. Taylor climbed up a tree to get a better vantage, spotting the thin smoke in the distance. "From a fire." he said after viewing it through his binoculars.
"Fire causing smoke. Who would have guessed."
He grinned down at her. "Almost dying makes you cranky."
"Imagine that."
In a shower of leaves and bark, he returned to the ground. "What I mean is that it's a campfire. White smoke, not black."
"Oddly enough, I could see that from here."
"I miss you calling me sir while you ridicule me."
Wash hid most of her smile. "I'll consider that for the future. Sir."
They stopped for the night. Cold rations for food and warm bodies for heat, no fire was necessary.
"I miss my daily bath," Wash said in a whisper as she laid out against his side, head pillowed on his arm.
"I miss it too." He waited for a moment, waited for her to say more, but Wash remained silent. "What is it?"
"Tired. Tired of being tired, and I don't know how to get better."
"Do you want my opinion, or just vent?"
"Vent."
"Then vent away."
"I never want to be injured again. Next time, I'm going with you, or you're staying behind. I don't care about anything else."
"There won't be a next time. Not when we're done."
They were up early in the morning, before the sun had the chance to change the sky from gray velvet to shimmering orange. The plan was in place, and they had quite the walk in front of them.
He'd never voice it, but Taylor was concerned about Wash's stamina. If she couldn't keep up, he didn't know what he'd do.
But with a purpose ahead of her and a weapon in her arms, Wash kept up admirably, even if his pace was slower than what he'd normally set.
It took several hours, moving quietly, before they saw their targets. The source of the smoke, a generous campfire, and a trio of sleepy Phoenix soldiers gathered around it. Whatever their purpose here, they were far from alert, barely worthy of being called soldiers.
A gesture to the one to the right, as Taylor's eyes focused on the other two. They were sitting closer together; he would have an easy time getting them in quick succession. Wash nodded, but her eyes were hesitant, lacking the fire he always remembered from before.
There was only one way to see just how ready she was, to see how deep she was in herself, how far the hooks of depression were sunk into her spirit.
A deep breath and he charged straight at the inattentive men. The first of his targets was put down at two meters with a single shot. The second he knocked out with the butt of his rifle. When he turned to see Wash's work, he saw her still at the treeline and her man standing to point a pistol at him.
Mercenary the man might have been, but he wasn't at all seasoned. Movement too slow, unsure, unprepared to kill at a moment's notice.
Taylor was not. Before the pistol was halfway up, his own rifle was raised. At the range of less than a meter, the heart exploded inside the chest, spraying Taylor with a fine mist of blood when he pulled the trigger. "God damn it, Wash! Are you playing statue over there for a reason?"
That seemed to jar her from her state of stunned confusion, and she approached slowly. "Sorry."
"Sorry? That's not going to cut it, lieutenant. Pull your head out of your ass!"
"Sorry."
"Sorry, sir."
That got her attention, her back straightening suddenly in attention and her eyes narrowing at him.
"Are you here with me, or are you back in bed?"
"Here, sir."
"Then help me secure the prisoner. And the next time you freeze on me, I will leave you where you stand. Do you hear me, lieutenant?"
Anger, her lip twitched, forming into a snarl. "Yes, sir." And then she went to the unconscious man and began securing his wrists and legs, her hands and fingers looking steady and sure as she tied the knots.
***
They didn't hear the man's screams as the predators found him; they had moved on hours previously, closer to the Badlands.
"Three men. It's not much of a perimeter."
Finally it seemed Wash was showing a little life in her. "Wouldn't be surprised if it was all they had to spare."
Wash nodded. "There weren't that many if I remember right. It was more the surprise and lack of our own numbers that they were able to take the colony."
"And they expected unlimited resupply and reinforcements from 2149." Taylor snorted. "Mercenaries. A sad group of poorly paid bullies." A glance over to Wash. "You ready this time? For real?"
"Yes, sir."
The two moved in separate directions, ducking low through the heavy undergrowth, keeping to the shadows and camouflaging effect of fading light through the treetops as they stalked the two bored guards.
These were men waiting for the sudden, noisy attack from dinosaurs; a stealth strike by two specially trained soldiers wasn't even in the realm of consideration.
Taylor struck first, darting out of the brush to drive his knife straight into the throat of the man who barely had time to register surprise before he was falling to the ground. He looked over to see Wash getting a hold of her man from behind and twisting his head to break the neck.
They met once again in the safety of the brush. "Showboat."
"You had his attention. No point in getting my knife bloody, sir."
Yes, the fire was returning, but their business was far from finished.
Even with the Phoenix soldiers on alert, after finding their dead compatriots, they still didn't have the training or leadership to defend against two very determined government certified bad asses.
Just a dozen mercenaries living in five worn tents at the edge of the Badlands, no chance at all.
"Supplying the rest of them?"
"I'd say so. All the empty containers... Lucas must come up here to get fresh water and whatever food they can scavenge up."
"And what are we going to do for supplies, sir?"
"We shouldn't need much, for just the two of us. We're not bringing anyone back."
With just a look, she asked him one very important question.
Taylor's expression hardened, unhappy but also uncompromising. "Nobody. And if I have to look him in the eye, I'll tell myself Ayani would never be able to live with him so..."
"Broken. A mercy. More than he ever showed anyone in the colony."
"A mercy."
***
Lucas had found what he was looking for. A portal of some sort, a shimmering blue disc pulsing in the air, was surrounded by a collection of a dozen tents of varying sizes.
Wash and Taylor watched from a rise composed of red stones that stunk of sulphur and were hot to touch under the relentless open sun. "How many do you see, Wash?"
"Fifteen at least. That seems low though. I'd say at least two dozen."
"At least."
"Closer to three it should be. But what I see... Morale is low. Half of them don't even have weapons on them. I haven't seen Lucas."
"Two of us, three dozen of them. Not half-bad odds." He grinned at her, seeing the look of absolute concentration on her face, the intensity back in her eyes. Maybe she wasn't physically back to her old self, but enough of it is mental that he can see her reaching for it. She might be tired, feeling every second of her conscious existence, but that was no longer going to stop her.
"Never liked your odds-making, sir."
It was supposed to be a quick kiss, on the cheek, to show his thankfulness to her, for her, and the return to familiarity, but she turned and captured his mouth. It was the most passion she'd shown since she'd woken up.
"As much as I enjoyed that," he said after separating, "I don't think this is the time or place."
"Seemed the perfect time."
"And the place?"
"Better than a rover."
"Patrol incoming."
"Think they heard you, Wash."
"I wasn't the one grunting like an exhausted water buffalo. Shannon probably heard you back at the colony." Wash lined up her target and squeezed the trigger. The soldier leading the patrol collapsed to the ground missing half his head. The second soldier, looking bewildered and alarmed, followed suit.
The third fell to Taylor's shot. "How many until they figure it out?"
"A bet? I say ten."
"I doubt they're that bright. Fifteen."
"You're on."
They waited five minutes before another trio of Phoenix soldiers show up to investigate the noise and loss of communication with their patrol. They're dispatched as quickly and messily as the others, and though the Badlands are mostly barren, the heavy scent of blood in the hot air is drawing small scavengers.
"I recognize that one, " Wash said, and shot the body again, obliterating the face. "And now I don't."
"Three again, I bet. They really like sending them out in threes."
They exceeded Taylor's expectations, sending five.
"This is boring."
And that was her finally back, from even before they'd come through the portal. Fierce and unmerciful, and a powerful force to be reckoned with. "Shall we change strategy?"
"Don't mind if we do." She didn't wait for him as she slid down the side of the rock, the noise of her boots hitting the dry ground sending the carrion-eaters scurrying. Rifle slung over her shoulder, she walked forward, drawing her sidearm.
"Wash! Damn it!" She was heading straight for the group of five.
"Boys," she said casually, and raised her weapon.
From his spot still on the rock, Taylor took two of them down as Wash shot the other three at point-blank range.
When he caught up to her, she had just finished drinking from one of the dead men's water bottles. "That seemed like an unnecessary risk, Wash. That was not strategy."
"Gets us down to two dozen in camp. Maybe more will show up. Maybe they'll be waiting for us."
"I don't remember you being so reckless, lieutenant."
"Taking the fight to them, sir. They're unprepared, demoralized, low on supplies, and their camp is sitting completely in the open. To not go on the offensive would be a mistake."
"Walking up to a group of soldiers is not quite the same thing as going on the offensive."
Wash shrugged. "It worked."
And there wasn't any way to deny that.
At least Wash agreed to wait until night, when the darkness would be in their favor. And on this moonless night, it was pitch black outside the weak lights and small fires within the Phoenix camp. Even from a distance, back in the jungle, the wildlife sounded extra rowdy, making more noise than normal in the almost unnatural dark of the night.
"You know I don't buy into it, but this feels like a good omen. Just don't wander off again. I won't be able to identify you in the dark."
Wash smiled at him, affectionate and indulgent. It was the smile Taylor liked best from her.
They moved as a pair, darting into and out of the small pools of light, silently dispatching the pathetic guards posted. Even on alert, eleven of their numbers dead earlier in the day, they really stood no chance at defending themselves. They were all sitting ducks.
Slipping into the rear of one of the larger tents, they found half a dozen men sleeping. There was no mercy shown to the unaware.
"How many?" Taylor whispered once they were hiding in the impenetrable blackness outside the camp.
"Ten or so."
Brutal business, nothing that a man could apologize for in one lifetime, but necessary for fear of a repeat of previous events. Necessary. Protecting those in the colony was something Taylor would not apologize for, and he wouldn't ever expect Wash to apologize for either. Not that she would consider doing such a thing anyway.
"Another bet. That tent is where we'll find Lucas."
Another large tent with a small generator sitting outside, blue light coming from between the open flaps.
Wash looked to him. "Are you ready?"
A chuckle in response. "Am I ready? You're the one he shot."
"And you're the one he stabbed. And you're his father."
"I'm the one he betrayed most of all."
There was no further discussion, no possible debate.
There were voices from inside the tent, one recognizable as Lucas', but not many. Certainly not ten.
Wash held up four fingers as they crouched next to the generator.
First a nod, and then Taylor yanked the cables out of the generator, plunging everything around them into darkness except for the pulsing light of the portal.
Lucas' angry voice was the easiest to identify, commanding the others to figure out what the problem was, followed by the worried and confused voices of the others.
The first man around the corner was met with a knife. The second had Wash's knife at his throat in an instant, but her hand froze before it made the killing cut. He was wearing civilian garb, not a uniform.
"Hey! What are you--"
Taylor shot the third man in the face with his pistol. "A scientist?"
The terrified prisoner nodded once before he felt the bite of the blade on his Adam's apple. "I didn't do anything."
"You did enough," Wash growled, drawing a thin line of blood on the man's throat.
"Don't kill him, Wash. We've got one left."
"All yours, sir."
The tent flaps parted, bathing the interior in harsh blue light from the portal. Lucas looked up, ready to snap at the wastes of assistants he'd been trying to work with, and frozen.
"Hello, son." Taylor hit him with a sonic blast.
***
Taylor and Wash watched their prisoner with cold detachment as he slowly returned to consciousness. "Six hours. You win again, Wash."
"I'll collect when we're back at the colony."
The sun was high in air, revealing the camp and the carnage in full light. It also showed the device sitting at the portal's side, a focusing device, keeping the fracture open. Back to 2149?
"Too late, old man. I already opened it. We're just waiting for the rest of--"
Wash punched Lucas in the mouth, splitting his lip open and staining his teeth with blood. "Nobody cares."
"My father's perfect little l--"
Another punch, breaking a tooth, silenced Lucas.
"Wash, take care of that thing."
For a moment Lucas looked confused, but when he saw Wash heading toward the fracture, he started to panic. "No! You can't do that!"
It didn't take much, just the removal of the control panel and power cells, and the fracture flared for an instant before winking out.
"No! You son of a bitch!"
"Lucas, your army is dead. You'll never get back to 2149. You have nothing here. I should put you out of your misery right here and now."
Eyes flashign with hatred, Lucas stared up at his father. "Do it then."
The pistol in Taylor's hand was primed with live ammunition, not for a sonic blast. This would be fatal; no accidents. He looked at Wash to see her grim-faced. This was an unpleasant thing for the both of them.
"I'm justified in doing it. For your crimes here, multiple murders, attempted murder--"
"Do it, you coward!"
Taylor took aim.
The fracture flared into existence behind him, and everyone turned to watch. Even Lucas was focusing on it.
Out of the bright blue light stepped a figure. And then another behind it. Ten people stared in confusion at their surroundings even as more came through behind them.
"A pilgrimage? What did you do, Lucas?"
Another figure appeared, shielding their face with a hand from the light.
Lucas was transfixed.
All of the air had been sucked from Taylor's lungs making speech difficult. "Ayani?"
The woman blinked and took in her surroundings for a moment when she heard her name, then her eyes locked on them. "Nathaniel? Alicia? What are you doing here?"
Characters: Taylor/Wash, Lucas
word count: 5379
Genre: angst, action, WTF
Spoilers: season 1
Warnings: some violence, swearing, implied sexy times
Summary: Everyone needs closure, right?
A/N: sky_kiss and her war... This is a truce fic because I also had trouble with it. Enjoy the ending.
It's been eleven long years, and there's one thing he's learned in the past six months: it still has a hold on him. The whole losing his memory thing didn't mean much, it was only an excuse to him. What mattered, because this was very clear, was his willingness to give up his life to escape that pain he'd hidden.
But he'd not been able to put that pain away again, and it had haunted him ever since.
Oh, he'd told Wash about it. Couldn't hide it from her even if he'd wanted it to. She knew him too well, could read the little nuances in his body language and behavior and looks, and could see the misery as easily as the sun in the sky.
The first night, after that incident, she'd come to him and tended to his bruised body, loved him, but it hadn't been enough. Too fresh, all over again. Telling her he was sorry a hundred times that night didn't help, that Ayani would always be there no matter how much he tried to forget her.
No matter how much he loved Alicia.
And now she was gone too.
Doc Shannon had been very specific and very adamant in her directions that he rest until she was satisfied with the progression of the healing in his side. It wasn't quite as bad as 2138, but it wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy either.
Perhaps this was his time, nothing drastic, but to just fade into the background and not bring this pain and misery to anyone else. His malaise served his wound well: less than a day back and he'd done nothing other than brood.
It was a frantic call that got him moving, faster than he should have as he felt the stitches pull, to the hospital. Jim Shannon was there, waiting for him at the door, blocking his way.
"Not yet," the man said, and stopped him from entering. "Let Liz do her job first." He actually put his arms around Taylor when the commander refused to be stayed by words alone. "Don't. Let them help her."
It was all he could do to not shove Shannon aside and charge into the hospital.
"You'll be the first to know, when she's better."
***
Left, not for dead, but to die slowly in a heap with all the other people the invaders had killed, that's where they'd found her. And it had been a near thing, maybe hours they'd said, before her body would have shut down completely.
Dehydration mostly, compounded by the terrible head injury she'd sustained, topped by exposure left Lieutenant Washington the frightening shell of the woman he knew unconscious in bed before him.
The lights were low and Taylor found himself dozing in the chair next to the bed with her slack hand resting in his own.
Time was all Doc Shannon would say. Time for her body to finish repairing itself; they'd done all they could with their knowledge and technology and medicine. So he waited, and nobody questioned it while they rebuilt the colony outside.
Most people if they were in a coma for longer than three days never came out. It was a small thing, then, that everything said she was not in a coma, just a state of utter exhaustion, and she would wake up eventually.
She would.
She had to.
It was fitting that the day they finished returning the command center to full functionality Wash finally opened her eyes.
He gripped her hand, not too tightly, and smiled. His voice, barely audible, was choked with emotion when he said, "Welcome home, Wash."
***
Wash was strong, stubborn, and independent as hell, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't like being babysat, but there was no denying she needed it. Her body felt... frail. Not just weak, but actually frail, like she might break something if she ever fell down.
"It's time."
Her steps were careful, slow, measured as she made her way to the bathroom.
"Do you want some help?"
"Not yet." Help was the last resort; eventually she'd have to do these things by herself with nobody waiting just outside the door for her. The amount of injuries she'd sustained over her lifetime was nothing to scoff at, but never had she been so completely drained, even being shot in Somalia, that undressing became such an ordeal.
Taylor appeared in the doorway as she was just kicking off her pants. Just a casual glance in her direction before he crossed in front of her and started the bath.
If it hadn't been specifically ordered by Dr. Shannon, Wash would have ignored such a ridiculous thing. There was no denying the overall... pleasantness of it, but that also made it feel very distinctly like an indulgence, which Wash didn't believe in so much. Still, she couldn't stop the warm tingling that started in her toes and gradually filled her at the sight of Taylor sitting at the side of filling bath.
An indulgence... This was practically a need. A near death experience changed a person. Two of them? Wash just about thought of herself as a whole new person; she just hoped Taylor would be able to understand that when the inevitable changes started showing up in earnest. There was no predicting what the changes might be, only that she was different now, and that being who she had been sounded very tiring.
Getting her shirt off took effort, and the bra took special effort that left her breathing heavily. "Nathaniel," she said suddenly, keeping her eyes on her feet, avoiding looking at him, "I don't think I can do this anymore."
Of course he was standing in front of her instantly, taking hold of her hands, trying to look in her eyes. "Wash. Alicia, what do you mean?"
She smiled, and though it was a little sad, all full of pity for herself, there was light in it as well just for him. "Not us. Us is the only thing I think I can keep doing. But I don't think I can be your second anymore. I don't think I can be a soldier." She fought the burning sensation in her eyes, setting her mouth in a frown and lowering her gaze once again. "It... hurts too much. Everything hurts."
The warmth and protection of his embrace had never felt so good before, his voice never so soothing.
"Then you don't have to be."
Muffled, her face against his shoulder, she said, "I'm so tired."
The sudden clench of his arms, the near-painful squeeze, and the kiss he gave to the top of her head spoke volumes.
But you're alive.
"Here," he said, the words clearly more difficult to speak than it would seem, "if I don't do this Doc Shannon'll have my head."
One shot, a cocktail of things a mile long to assist in her healing, a topical solution that was supposed to help with the more superficial nagging aches and pains, and a hot bath were far from the worst treatments she'd ever received from a doctor, but if not for Taylor being there, Wash would have ignored it all except the shot. He made sitting in a tub of her own lukewarm filth bearable.
"If only we had some scotch," she said as she looked down at the near-full tub.
"We'll have to start making our own. I don't trust Boylan to make anything that's not paint thinner."
"I don't want to wait twelve years for it."
In reply, he hummed from the back of his throat. "Guess you're shit out of luck then."
"Guess so."
"Here, let's get this on you."
Every day the process is much the same. They're both quiet, maybe a little somber, as he rubs her down with the ointment, working it well into her skin and massaging her muscles until she's almost boneless. Then the shot, just a tiny prick in her upper arm, and then he assists her into the water.
And as always, he undresses and follows her in, situating himself behind her so she can recline against his chest.
Wash sighed, almost with contentment, at the heat surrounding her and his hands stroking lightly across her sensitive skin. "You're a horrible tease, you know that?"
"You can just tell me to stop."
"You know I won't."
"I know."
They sat in the bath that way, close and comfortable, until the water cooled. Without any assistance, which made her proud, Wash got up and out of the bath, and draped herself in a towel. The physical pains were clearing up, but nothing seemed to fight off the weariness that hung on her from morning to night, waking until bed.
She went to the bedroom, and crawled into bed, still in the towel. Middle of the day and in bed... "I'm not fit to be on duty anyway."
"You'll get there. Were you this hard on yourself before?"
Somalia. "Yes."
"You shouldn't be." Taylor entered the bedroom in a t-shirt and boxers giving her a disapproving look. "Both times, it was my fault. If there's anyone you should mad at, disappointed in, anyone you should hate, it's me."
Both of them knew she wouldn't even though what he'd said was true. And hate him? The idea was ludicrous.
Wash held out her hand in invitation. Emotions were too much effort to sort out, and the important ones were all out in the open between them. She loved him and he loved her, and Wash didn't care about much else at the moment.
As he settled into bed behind her and held her to him, Wash found no reason to change things.
***
"You're pushing yourself too hard."
Maybe that was true, but she wouldn't quit. Wash took another swing, grunting as she put the rest of her flagging strength into it.
Taylor took a step backward, not even a fast one, to avoid it. "Dammit, Wash, are you listening to me?"
She tried again, this swing even slower than the last, with the same results. "All due respect, sir, fight me."
"I'm not fighting you. You're not in any shape for full contact sparring."
"In your opinion." She pushed, but it was slow, lacking decisiveness.
"You're damn right it's my opinion." The next punch she threw he caught and pulled her to him. "And it's a fact. Just stop, until you've got more of your strength back. Stop."
It was a brief struggle until Wash dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "I want to stop, but I can't. I can't."
***
It was a dilemma Taylor didn't know quite how to handle. Wash was hurt much deeper than he'd seen her before, maybe worse than when she'd been shot, and he had no experience in rehabilitation. His own had been... haphazard, and hardly successful. Taking notes from it was a silly idea when Wash's situation was so personal, so unique.
Sleep was one of the very few times she looked at peace.
There had to be some way to give that to her, the peace to know she could finally stop, that she didn't have hurt any longer, or push herself to exhaustion to always prove something. She'd proved herself years ago to him, and that was all that mattered in the end.
A soft kiss pressed to her neck, and he settled in for the night next to her.
***
It was the first morning she was able to complete the patrol, even if she was exhausted at the end of it. This was progress that she should have been proud of, but it did nothing for her mood. It was becoming apparent the problem was more than simple exhaustion, lingering weakness, or physical fatigue.
In her eyes, Taylor saw the way her spirit flagged; she was close to giving in completely.
He'd seen it before, in a few soldiers before they'd been sent home for observation and then never returned. Not only was it an impossibility here, but he'd never allow it to happen. Maybe she didn't want to hear it, but he'd take care of her even when she didn't believe she needed or deserved it.
This time she needed it.
***
"That is ridiculous."
"Yes."
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"You're insane."
"Maybe. You know I've been called worse things. By you."
That brought up a ghost of a smile. "I suppose I have. But that's still--"
"Crazy, I know. But I've seen something, in your eyes." He touched her cheek with his fingertips. "I don't want you to end up like those boys that--"
"I'm not anything like them!"
"Alicia, you are. I know you don't think so, don't want to think so, but I can see it. Don't deny it. Just let me help you."
She shoved him away, a look of frustration and vague anger masking her features. "You can't help me! You didn't before, so what can you do now?"
It hurt him, the pain visible in the twist of his lips as he stared at her.
"I don't need you to take care of me!" Wash turned and marched away.
There was a noticeable lack of trudging or limping in her steps.
This was the Wash Taylor was used to seeing.
***
"Just let me--"
"No!" he snapped, causing Jim to take a step back. "This is for me and Wash. And if we don't come back, then you know what you have to do, Shannon." Taylor felt a little bad for the shock on the other man's face, to be putting him in such a terrible position. "I'm sorry, Jim, but we have to go. I'm sorry."
It was a possibility nobody else in the colony would understand, not even the soldiers that knew them best. Nobody had lived for as long as they had on the edge of life and death, saved and taken as many lives as they had, experienced and survived as much misery as they had. No, Shannon wouldn't understand why they had to do this, but he nodded and stepped back. He understood that they did need to it.
Under the cover of darkness, early in the morning when almost everyone was still asleep, Taylor and Wash drove out of the gate in one of the reclaimed Phoenix rovers and into the jungle.
***
"Trail's cold."
"Not surprising. How long's it been since they cleared out?"
"Weeks."
"You expected to find fresh footprints?"
He gave her a wry grin. "No, it just means they left and didn't come back. They've got no interest in the colony."
Wash shook her head. "For now. So we're going to follow them all the way to the badlands?"
"If we have to." Taylor got back into the rover and started it. "We're going to go as far as we have to."
***
When the days of traveling turned into a week, they found their first sign of human life. Taylor climbed up a tree to get a better vantage, spotting the thin smoke in the distance. "From a fire." he said after viewing it through his binoculars.
"Fire causing smoke. Who would have guessed."
He grinned down at her. "Almost dying makes you cranky."
"Imagine that."
In a shower of leaves and bark, he returned to the ground. "What I mean is that it's a campfire. White smoke, not black."
"Oddly enough, I could see that from here."
"I miss you calling me sir while you ridicule me."
Wash hid most of her smile. "I'll consider that for the future. Sir."
They stopped for the night. Cold rations for food and warm bodies for heat, no fire was necessary.
"I miss my daily bath," Wash said in a whisper as she laid out against his side, head pillowed on his arm.
"I miss it too." He waited for a moment, waited for her to say more, but Wash remained silent. "What is it?"
"Tired. Tired of being tired, and I don't know how to get better."
"Do you want my opinion, or just vent?"
"Vent."
"Then vent away."
"I never want to be injured again. Next time, I'm going with you, or you're staying behind. I don't care about anything else."
"There won't be a next time. Not when we're done."
They were up early in the morning, before the sun had the chance to change the sky from gray velvet to shimmering orange. The plan was in place, and they had quite the walk in front of them.
He'd never voice it, but Taylor was concerned about Wash's stamina. If she couldn't keep up, he didn't know what he'd do.
But with a purpose ahead of her and a weapon in her arms, Wash kept up admirably, even if his pace was slower than what he'd normally set.
It took several hours, moving quietly, before they saw their targets. The source of the smoke, a generous campfire, and a trio of sleepy Phoenix soldiers gathered around it. Whatever their purpose here, they were far from alert, barely worthy of being called soldiers.
A gesture to the one to the right, as Taylor's eyes focused on the other two. They were sitting closer together; he would have an easy time getting them in quick succession. Wash nodded, but her eyes were hesitant, lacking the fire he always remembered from before.
There was only one way to see just how ready she was, to see how deep she was in herself, how far the hooks of depression were sunk into her spirit.
A deep breath and he charged straight at the inattentive men. The first of his targets was put down at two meters with a single shot. The second he knocked out with the butt of his rifle. When he turned to see Wash's work, he saw her still at the treeline and her man standing to point a pistol at him.
Mercenary the man might have been, but he wasn't at all seasoned. Movement too slow, unsure, unprepared to kill at a moment's notice.
Taylor was not. Before the pistol was halfway up, his own rifle was raised. At the range of less than a meter, the heart exploded inside the chest, spraying Taylor with a fine mist of blood when he pulled the trigger. "God damn it, Wash! Are you playing statue over there for a reason?"
That seemed to jar her from her state of stunned confusion, and she approached slowly. "Sorry."
"Sorry? That's not going to cut it, lieutenant. Pull your head out of your ass!"
"Sorry."
"Sorry, sir."
That got her attention, her back straightening suddenly in attention and her eyes narrowing at him.
"Are you here with me, or are you back in bed?"
"Here, sir."
"Then help me secure the prisoner. And the next time you freeze on me, I will leave you where you stand. Do you hear me, lieutenant?"
Anger, her lip twitched, forming into a snarl. "Yes, sir." And then she went to the unconscious man and began securing his wrists and legs, her hands and fingers looking steady and sure as she tied the knots.
***
They didn't hear the man's screams as the predators found him; they had moved on hours previously, closer to the Badlands.
"Three men. It's not much of a perimeter."
Finally it seemed Wash was showing a little life in her. "Wouldn't be surprised if it was all they had to spare."
Wash nodded. "There weren't that many if I remember right. It was more the surprise and lack of our own numbers that they were able to take the colony."
"And they expected unlimited resupply and reinforcements from 2149." Taylor snorted. "Mercenaries. A sad group of poorly paid bullies." A glance over to Wash. "You ready this time? For real?"
"Yes, sir."
The two moved in separate directions, ducking low through the heavy undergrowth, keeping to the shadows and camouflaging effect of fading light through the treetops as they stalked the two bored guards.
These were men waiting for the sudden, noisy attack from dinosaurs; a stealth strike by two specially trained soldiers wasn't even in the realm of consideration.
Taylor struck first, darting out of the brush to drive his knife straight into the throat of the man who barely had time to register surprise before he was falling to the ground. He looked over to see Wash getting a hold of her man from behind and twisting his head to break the neck.
They met once again in the safety of the brush. "Showboat."
"You had his attention. No point in getting my knife bloody, sir."
Yes, the fire was returning, but their business was far from finished.
Even with the Phoenix soldiers on alert, after finding their dead compatriots, they still didn't have the training or leadership to defend against two very determined government certified bad asses.
Just a dozen mercenaries living in five worn tents at the edge of the Badlands, no chance at all.
"Supplying the rest of them?"
"I'd say so. All the empty containers... Lucas must come up here to get fresh water and whatever food they can scavenge up."
"And what are we going to do for supplies, sir?"
"We shouldn't need much, for just the two of us. We're not bringing anyone back."
With just a look, she asked him one very important question.
Taylor's expression hardened, unhappy but also uncompromising. "Nobody. And if I have to look him in the eye, I'll tell myself Ayani would never be able to live with him so..."
"Broken. A mercy. More than he ever showed anyone in the colony."
"A mercy."
***
Lucas had found what he was looking for. A portal of some sort, a shimmering blue disc pulsing in the air, was surrounded by a collection of a dozen tents of varying sizes.
Wash and Taylor watched from a rise composed of red stones that stunk of sulphur and were hot to touch under the relentless open sun. "How many do you see, Wash?"
"Fifteen at least. That seems low though. I'd say at least two dozen."
"At least."
"Closer to three it should be. But what I see... Morale is low. Half of them don't even have weapons on them. I haven't seen Lucas."
"Two of us, three dozen of them. Not half-bad odds." He grinned at her, seeing the look of absolute concentration on her face, the intensity back in her eyes. Maybe she wasn't physically back to her old self, but enough of it is mental that he can see her reaching for it. She might be tired, feeling every second of her conscious existence, but that was no longer going to stop her.
"Never liked your odds-making, sir."
It was supposed to be a quick kiss, on the cheek, to show his thankfulness to her, for her, and the return to familiarity, but she turned and captured his mouth. It was the most passion she'd shown since she'd woken up.
"As much as I enjoyed that," he said after separating, "I don't think this is the time or place."
"Seemed the perfect time."
"And the place?"
"Better than a rover."
"Patrol incoming."
"Think they heard you, Wash."
"I wasn't the one grunting like an exhausted water buffalo. Shannon probably heard you back at the colony." Wash lined up her target and squeezed the trigger. The soldier leading the patrol collapsed to the ground missing half his head. The second soldier, looking bewildered and alarmed, followed suit.
The third fell to Taylor's shot. "How many until they figure it out?"
"A bet? I say ten."
"I doubt they're that bright. Fifteen."
"You're on."
They waited five minutes before another trio of Phoenix soldiers show up to investigate the noise and loss of communication with their patrol. They're dispatched as quickly and messily as the others, and though the Badlands are mostly barren, the heavy scent of blood in the hot air is drawing small scavengers.
"I recognize that one, " Wash said, and shot the body again, obliterating the face. "And now I don't."
"Three again, I bet. They really like sending them out in threes."
They exceeded Taylor's expectations, sending five.
"This is boring."
And that was her finally back, from even before they'd come through the portal. Fierce and unmerciful, and a powerful force to be reckoned with. "Shall we change strategy?"
"Don't mind if we do." She didn't wait for him as she slid down the side of the rock, the noise of her boots hitting the dry ground sending the carrion-eaters scurrying. Rifle slung over her shoulder, she walked forward, drawing her sidearm.
"Wash! Damn it!" She was heading straight for the group of five.
"Boys," she said casually, and raised her weapon.
From his spot still on the rock, Taylor took two of them down as Wash shot the other three at point-blank range.
When he caught up to her, she had just finished drinking from one of the dead men's water bottles. "That seemed like an unnecessary risk, Wash. That was not strategy."
"Gets us down to two dozen in camp. Maybe more will show up. Maybe they'll be waiting for us."
"I don't remember you being so reckless, lieutenant."
"Taking the fight to them, sir. They're unprepared, demoralized, low on supplies, and their camp is sitting completely in the open. To not go on the offensive would be a mistake."
"Walking up to a group of soldiers is not quite the same thing as going on the offensive."
Wash shrugged. "It worked."
And there wasn't any way to deny that.
At least Wash agreed to wait until night, when the darkness would be in their favor. And on this moonless night, it was pitch black outside the weak lights and small fires within the Phoenix camp. Even from a distance, back in the jungle, the wildlife sounded extra rowdy, making more noise than normal in the almost unnatural dark of the night.
"You know I don't buy into it, but this feels like a good omen. Just don't wander off again. I won't be able to identify you in the dark."
Wash smiled at him, affectionate and indulgent. It was the smile Taylor liked best from her.
They moved as a pair, darting into and out of the small pools of light, silently dispatching the pathetic guards posted. Even on alert, eleven of their numbers dead earlier in the day, they really stood no chance at defending themselves. They were all sitting ducks.
Slipping into the rear of one of the larger tents, they found half a dozen men sleeping. There was no mercy shown to the unaware.
"How many?" Taylor whispered once they were hiding in the impenetrable blackness outside the camp.
"Ten or so."
Brutal business, nothing that a man could apologize for in one lifetime, but necessary for fear of a repeat of previous events. Necessary. Protecting those in the colony was something Taylor would not apologize for, and he wouldn't ever expect Wash to apologize for either. Not that she would consider doing such a thing anyway.
"Another bet. That tent is where we'll find Lucas."
Another large tent with a small generator sitting outside, blue light coming from between the open flaps.
Wash looked to him. "Are you ready?"
A chuckle in response. "Am I ready? You're the one he shot."
"And you're the one he stabbed. And you're his father."
"I'm the one he betrayed most of all."
There was no further discussion, no possible debate.
There were voices from inside the tent, one recognizable as Lucas', but not many. Certainly not ten.
Wash held up four fingers as they crouched next to the generator.
First a nod, and then Taylor yanked the cables out of the generator, plunging everything around them into darkness except for the pulsing light of the portal.
Lucas' angry voice was the easiest to identify, commanding the others to figure out what the problem was, followed by the worried and confused voices of the others.
The first man around the corner was met with a knife. The second had Wash's knife at his throat in an instant, but her hand froze before it made the killing cut. He was wearing civilian garb, not a uniform.
"Hey! What are you--"
Taylor shot the third man in the face with his pistol. "A scientist?"
The terrified prisoner nodded once before he felt the bite of the blade on his Adam's apple. "I didn't do anything."
"You did enough," Wash growled, drawing a thin line of blood on the man's throat.
"Don't kill him, Wash. We've got one left."
"All yours, sir."
The tent flaps parted, bathing the interior in harsh blue light from the portal. Lucas looked up, ready to snap at the wastes of assistants he'd been trying to work with, and frozen.
"Hello, son." Taylor hit him with a sonic blast.
***
Taylor and Wash watched their prisoner with cold detachment as he slowly returned to consciousness. "Six hours. You win again, Wash."
"I'll collect when we're back at the colony."
The sun was high in air, revealing the camp and the carnage in full light. It also showed the device sitting at the portal's side, a focusing device, keeping the fracture open. Back to 2149?
"Too late, old man. I already opened it. We're just waiting for the rest of--"
Wash punched Lucas in the mouth, splitting his lip open and staining his teeth with blood. "Nobody cares."
"My father's perfect little l--"
Another punch, breaking a tooth, silenced Lucas.
"Wash, take care of that thing."
For a moment Lucas looked confused, but when he saw Wash heading toward the fracture, he started to panic. "No! You can't do that!"
It didn't take much, just the removal of the control panel and power cells, and the fracture flared for an instant before winking out.
"No! You son of a bitch!"
"Lucas, your army is dead. You'll never get back to 2149. You have nothing here. I should put you out of your misery right here and now."
Eyes flashign with hatred, Lucas stared up at his father. "Do it then."
The pistol in Taylor's hand was primed with live ammunition, not for a sonic blast. This would be fatal; no accidents. He looked at Wash to see her grim-faced. This was an unpleasant thing for the both of them.
"I'm justified in doing it. For your crimes here, multiple murders, attempted murder--"
"Do it, you coward!"
Taylor took aim.
The fracture flared into existence behind him, and everyone turned to watch. Even Lucas was focusing on it.
Out of the bright blue light stepped a figure. And then another behind it. Ten people stared in confusion at their surroundings even as more came through behind them.
"A pilgrimage? What did you do, Lucas?"
Another figure appeared, shielding their face with a hand from the light.
Lucas was transfixed.
All of the air had been sucked from Taylor's lungs making speech difficult. "Ayani?"
The woman blinked and took in her surroundings for a moment when she heard her name, then her eyes locked on them. "Nathaniel? Alicia? What are you doing here?"