A/N: My turn at the fix-it fic for the S1 finale. Gonna be a bit here so strap in. This chapter contains some death, language and general violence and angst. Please humor any scientific goofery, comical Bad Son characterization and OMG plot hole existance. All about Wash, yeah? In any case, please enjoy.

The first thing he asks Tom Boylan once they have a semi-quiet almost solitary moment is, "Where is she?" He knows that he doesn't need to clarify; everyone knows whom he is speaking of.

"They took her," the bartender says with clear disgust in his tone. While he'd had a fall-out with Taylor many years earlier, he'd retained some degree of respect and liking for the lieutenant. Above and beyond that, whether out of the service or not, Boylan continues to believe in the basic tenants of humanity.

Bad enough that Taylor's bastard son had executed the lieutenant in front of the Command Tower that had stood as the nerve center of Terra Nova during her best days, but far worse that they hadn't even allowed Wash's body to be claimed by those who would show it the respect due it.

No, instead, Boylan had been forced to watch in seething rage as two of the Phoenix goons had lifted her up and carried her body away.

"Took her where?" Taylor asks, his brow creasing. He's in pain from the knife shoved into him by his son, but somehow that doesn't even begin to compare to the emotional turmoil that is sweeping through him.

Too much loss. Even for him.

Wash.

Lucas.

And oh yes, Lucas is truly one hundred percent gone. Alive or dead, even in full denial mode, there's simply no coming back from all of the willing evil – such a simplistic word, Taylor muses bitterly – that he's committed. It's a heartbreaking realization for Nathaniel, but one that hits him with a kind of raw searing finality.

That boy out there? He's all enemy now. No use pretending otherwise. No point in hoping that the next time they meet, there won't be blood spilled.

"Probably outside the gates, Commander," Boylan answers. "I heard those Phoenix goons dumped quite a few of the bodies of our people out there. Probably…" he pauses for a minute, knowing how his words are going to be taken. "They probably meant for the scavenger dinos to get them."

Taylor feels her heart nearly explode with pain. It's too much. Too damned much.

He doesn't say another word, just turns and walks away from Boylan, as if towards the gates. As if he's going to go out there and look for her himself.

He doesn't make three feet before he collapses and the world turns dark.

Lucas Taylor may not have the morality of his father, but he certainly has his old man's single minded persistence, Mira thinks to herself as she watches the young man fidget in front of the medic (it's something of a stretch to call him that, she realizes, since the stitches the guy is putting in Lucas's chest are sloppy and loose, likely to split open with the simplest of movements).

And dammit if killing him is a bit like trying to off one of those villains from those old twentieth century horror flicks that her big brother had been so terribly fond of back when they'd been kids. God, so very long ago.

He's hurt for sure. Two bullets to the chest (and not the sonic kind either – no, these had been real old school projectiles) and a clear ass-kicking courtesy of Nathaniel Taylor have left Lucas looking like he should be chilling in a hospital for a few weeks. Course, way out in the middle of the fucking wilderness (again), that's probably not going to happen.

Still, this is different than when she'd been out with Carter and the others, hanging out in the trees (yeah, because that's what they'd been doing, having a good old campout, she thinks to herself). These Phoenix guys may be complete Soldier of Fortune assholes, but they're a hell of a lot more put together than they have any right to be. There's a sense around all of this that maybe they'd expected to have to hightail it out of Terra Nova. Maybe, this had always been the fallback plan. She's not sure if she's impressed or infuriated by that.

As it is, the entire Phoenix force and the Sixers – now led by Hooper and Lucas – are out in the middle of the Badlands, camping out in massive tents. They have more gear than they have the right to – some of it extremely high-tech. They even have portable bio-beds that can be assembled and disassembled within minutes. It's a bit ridiculous really – and more than a little unsettling.

"You're thinking," Lucas says to her, sounding slightly drugged. She imagines the soldier who had been playing medic (how silly to not have actually had anyone on the team able to actually fill that role completely) has given him a rather healthy dose of some kind of painkillers. Considering all of his wounds, he certainly deserves it. She watches as he waves the soldier out of the tent, leaving just the two of them alone. Never a woman to be scared around any man, she's nonetheless not at all comfortable with being alone around this one.

"This wasn't the plan," she answers finally. She shakes her head. There's so much more she wants to say, but really, what's the point? Mira has always been a pragmatic woman – this entire arrangement has never been about greed or rage for her; it's always been about a singular goal. Her daughter. Now, robbed of that, she feels more than a little bit adrift. Utterly purposeless.

"No," he agrees. "My father was supposed to be dead. That little summer camp was supposed to be burned to the ground – well eventually anyway – and you and I were supposed to be sitting pretty back in 2149." He sighs. "Plans change."

"You're pretty calm for a man who just lost to his father. Again." It's probably not wise to taunt him – she's seen how cruel he can be – but her anger and hurt are starting to come to the surface, and she can't quite resist.

"I'm on something very good," he laughs. "That and we haven't lost. Just…delayed things a bit."

"Really? So you have another way to get back to 2149?" she keeps her tone carefully controlled, doesn't want him to hear hope in it.

He shakes his head and laughs (sounding more than a little bit insane to her ears), "No. 2149 is gone. Without Hope Plaza, our chances of returning to that timeline are pretty well fucked."

"So you're still talking vengeance."

"Yes."

"Enjoy yourself," she grunts, standing up. "I'm out."

"Shame," he says, pushing himself up. "I'd think you'd be on that train one hundred percent."

"Really? And why would that be?"

"They're the ones who destroyed our way home. Not me. I had every intention of following through with our agreement," Lucas answers as he steps towards her, wincing with every step he takes. The part of her that isn't furious and hopeless takes a moment to consider his wounds. She almost tells him to sit back down, not tear the wounds open. In the end, she doesn't though because she's not sure if she cares if he bleeds out. Maybe that'd be better for everyone anyway.

"You're the one who let your vendetta against your father blind you."

They stare at each other for a long moment, and oddly enough, it's Lucas who finally backs down, stepping back and sliding himself back onto the field bio-bed.

"Maybe so," he agrees finally. "But I've come too far to stop now."

"That's your problem, not mine." She steps towards him. "And what you've done, I never would have done."

"I assume you mean what I did to his lieutenant."

"She didn't need to die."

"People die in war, Mira."

"You executed her."

"Do I…do I actually hear some affection for my father's lapdog?"

Mira chooses not to answer that directly, instead says, "It wasn't necessary. You motivated him."

"No, I showed him what I was capable of."

Mira shakes her head. "I want no part of that."

"You're already part of it. You really think my father will differentiate between who pulled the trigger and who didn't? What about the fact that you were on my side when we took down the colony. You might think yourself noble because you never killed anyone when you were out in the jungle with your pathetic Lost Boys, but you have blood on your hands same as I do."

She grits her teeth at that, doesn't deny it.

This had never been her plan. She'd never wanted to really hurt anyone. Not seriously anyway. A few bruises, a few couple of cuts, maybe some broken bones, but death? No. And still, despite her intentions, it'd happened.

"You're insane," she tells him.

"Yes," he replies, sounding even loopier now (and yet somehow more frighteningly clear and focused than he has since this conversation had begun).

"Let's say I'm considering your 'offer', what's your plan?"

He grins at that. "Give me a hand up, and I'll show you."

Reluctantly, she crosses the tent, slides an arm around him, and helps him up. It occurs to him just how easy it would be for him to kill him. He's so weak right now, so close to the edge. And yet, for reasons Mira can't quite begin to understand, she lets the chance pass.

It's absolutely the wrong decision.

When Nathaniel comes to a few hours later, he's in the Infirmary (pretty much the only building which had been left mostly intact). Before he can even think to sit up, Elizabeth is at his side, fussing over him and checking his vitals.

"Commander," she says softly, touching his arm.

"What happened?" he asks, glancing around.

She considers her words carefully, then answers with a slightly dishonest, "You'd lost a lot of blood, sir."

"I passed out?" he clarifies.

She nods. She could tell him that she's pretty sure that it hadn't been blood which had made him fall, but she knows that that's the last thing he wants to hear. He has his pride, and needs to think that he is always the master of his own emotions. Even when he's not.

"Am I all right now?"

"You are."

"Good." He starts to stand, allowing her to hold his elbow as he does. Once he's solidly on the ground, he asks, "Has anyone been sent out to find the bodies?"

"Corporal Reilly led a team out herself."

"Anything found yet?"

"A mass grave was."

Quite involuntarily, he flinches at that. He's seen entirely too many of those in his lifetime – crude massive holes dug to offer up the very worst kind of post-mortem shame and humiliation to the fallen. The idea of his proud and brave lieutenant being discarded in one of those curdles his stomach.

"Has she –"

"Not yet. But we have recovered several bodies. Some we've identified," she hands him a plexpad with names on it. "Others we haven't yet,"

"You're sure she's not one of them?"

"We are. The lieutenant had several marks on her that would make identification somewhat simple - even considering the elements. So far, none of the bodies that we've recovered from the mass grave match."

He nods at that. "All right. Am I clear to return to duty?"

"Light duty only, Commander. You're not to join Reilly's team. If I find out you have, I'll pull your clearance so fast your head will spin. Do I make myself clear?"

He looks at her with a mixture of amusement, annoyance and admiration in his eyes. "Clear as a bell, Doc."

"Good. This colony needs you, Commander. We may have retaken Terra Nova, but everyone is feeling the losses we've suffered. Everyone feels her loss. Which means everyone is looking to you to help us heal."

"I know. Thanks, Doc."

He's two steps away from the door when she calls him back. "Commander, just so you know, I'm dead serious. If I find you've been out there…"

"I get it. I'll behave."

She snorts in clear disbelief.

In that moment, she sounds a hell of a lot like Wash.

It's just about enough to break his heart.

"We'll see," she tells him, then shaking her head, turns and heads out to help work on another patient. He watches her for a moment, thinking about what his lieutenant had done to protect this family – and Terra Nova as a whole.

It'd been one hell of a heroic sacrifice.

And she'd been so brave.

Doesn't change the fact that it should have never happened.

Or the fact that she still hasn't been brought home yet.

Soon, Wash, he thinks with an impossibly heavy heart. I'll bring you home soon.

"Where are we going?" Mira asks as she helps Lucas down a muddy hill towards a tent far off to the side of the main camp. It's heavily guarded, being watched by the highest ranking of the Phoenix soldiers.

"To see my wildcard."

Mira doesn't reply to that. It's clear she's just going to have to wait and see what Lucas is up to. Asking him any further questions will just lead to more annoying half-answers full of obnoxious riddles.

They get to the tent, and Lucas waves at the guard. "Anyone in there?"

"Doctor Bradley, sir," the guard replies, mentioning one of the scientists that had been brought along.

"We're going in."

"Yes, sir," the man says, stepping aside.

They step inside, and the first thing Mira sees is that it appears as though they've entered some kind of decontamination area. There are beeping machines everywhere, and in the center of it all is a single bio-bed.

The scientist turns when he sees Lucas. "Sir?"

"How's our patient?"

"Same as before."

"Right. Leave us."

The scientist beats a hasty – and clearly thankful – retreat. Once gone, Mira turns to look at all of the equipment again.

"Where did you get all of this gear?" Mira asks.

"Some of it we brought across, some of it we stole from the Terra Nova infirmary. Most of it is incredibly light and easy to transport. If we're going to be out here for a bit, we need to have ways to take care of ourselves."

"We managed with nature," Mira says, her eyes on the bio-bed. There's someone lying in it – someone with long dark hair. Clearly a woman. Obviously "the patient" that Lucas had been talking to the scientist about.

"We don't have to."

"Yet anyway. Who is that?"

"Go see for yourself," Lucas smirks, seeming entirely too proud of himself.

Slowly, a bit reluctantly, Mira steps closer, then pulls up sharply, eyes wide. "I thought…I heard…" She finds her staring down at the badly wounded – but somehow inexplicably still alive - body of Lieutenant Alicia Washington.

Her face is horribly bruised up – visual proof of the sonic blast that had hit her squarely. There's swelling around her forehead, jaw and nose. Both eyes are heavily ringed with dark colors. Still, she's…alive.

"You heard I killed her?" Lucas says, coming to stand next to Mira. "I tried. Turns out my father's favorite soldier is a real bitch to kill. Just like him."

"Just like you," Mira answers, glancing down at his chest.

He shrugs at that. "When they went to pick up her body, one of the men found a pulse. Should have probably just finished the job right then and there, but this seemed like a better idea."

"Keeping her on life support?"

"Oh she'll wake up. Question is, just how badly fucked up she's going to be when she does. She took a sonic blast right to the head. It should have killed her, but didn't. Doesn't matter though; no one – not even the tough Lieutenant Washington - comes out of that unscathed. If we're lucky, she'll be a vegetable, and we can return her to my father like that. It'll kill him seeing her that way."

"And if she's not?" Mira asks with a frown. Her eyes slide over to the machines, especially the one controlling the life support. It'd be so easy to pull it, to end things and let the lieutenant move on.

"You have to admit, there's some poetry in trying to turn her against my father."

"It'll never work. She'll never turn on him."

"In her right mind, you're right. She's been following him around like a good loyal little soldier for fifteen years." He reaches out and touches one of the bandages on Washington's face. "But I don't think that's going to be who wakes up."

"This is sick," Mira says, eyes once again on the machines. "I won't be part of it."

"Do I really have to remind you again that you already are?"

This is the truth, and they both know it. And still, she rails against it.

Because dammit, this wasn't how things were supposed to go.

She closes her eyes. Steels herself. "No, you don't."

"Good."

"No, not good. Why in the hell would I do this?" she asks, meeting his eyes. "What do I stand to gain?"

"Revenge."

"I don't care about revenge."

"Yes, you do."

"No, not like this. Let her die with some degree of dignity."

"I don't owe her that."

"She did nothing to you."

"She stood beside him."

Mira shakes her head in disbelief.

She thinks about a deal made so many years ago. She thinks about her daughter. She thinks about who she was and what she had become.

She's not proud of herself, but God, no she's not this.

She's not.

She shakes her head.

"No. I won't do this."

"I understand. And I'm sorry," he says.

"No, you're not."

"I am. We could have been great allies."

She laughs bitterly. "You know your father once said that to me. Kind of wish I had chosen my side better."

"I bet you do."

The last thing she sees before her soul leaves her body a few moments later is him lift a sharp surgical scalpel up off the table. She's fairly certain – in the seconds of life she has left – that she could have fought him off had she tried.

She doesn't, though, because she just no longer cares.

She simply knows that no matter what evil she has committed in the name of being with her daughter again, this is one sin too many.

With her last act, she reaches desperately for the cable that will disconnect the lieutenant's life support. She tries frantically to right a wrong before she goes. She feels her fingers slide against it, even manages a slight tug. It's not enough.

It's never enough.

She thinks to herself one final heartbreaking time that this wasn't supposed to happen like this, and then everything disappears into an explosion of a thousand colors, then a bright beautiful light.

Then nothing.

Mercifully, she's already long gone when Dr. Bradley and the soldier enter to find out what had happened. She doesn't see Bradley turns to his attention to the bed Wash is on and says in a whispered tone of disbelief, "Sir, she's awake."

TBC…