Possibilities
A/N: After reading the fabulous work I've found in the TN fandom, especially for Wash/Taylor, I've decided to give it a try. I drew up some courage from an unknown place. Inspiration for this story came from reading somewhere that Simone Kessell remarked on Twitter that Wash and Taylor would be married in an alternate universe. Follows up to 1x09.
It's not something she allows herself to indulge in. She knows how dangerous it could be to lose herself in fantasies, daydreams, and the like. In fact, it is only during the nine minutes encompassing the time between the press of the snooze button and leaving her bed (a rare occurrence but one that happens every now and then) that she'll let her mind wander and contemplate the different turns her life could've taken.
She's not the only one that plays this game. She knew Malcolm Wallace did as well.
She'd caught the tale end of his conversation with a fellow scientist while at the market in search of a quick snack after a busy morning patrolling. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop but the juicy, yellow fruit she had her eye on was near the vendor Malcolm and his colleague, a fresh face from the recent pilgrimage whose name she couldn't quite recall, were standing next to. It seemed that her entrance into their general vicinity was what Dr. Patterson (she thinks) was in desperate need of because as soon as she caught the Lieutenant's eye, the scientist introduced herself once again as if they had yet to meet (it was in fact Dr. Patterson), shook her hand eagerly, and made her escape after a quick apology to Malcolm.
"I guess I can get a bit carried away," he admitted, embarrassed, chuckling as he turned to her.
Wash smiled as she paid for the fruit. Raising it to her nose, she inhaled the sweet scent and turned to Malcolm. "If you want to continue your previous conversation..."
He didn't wait for her to finish her sentence. She spent her lunch break listening to him talk about alternative realities. After explaining the scientific theory behind it, the multitude of scenarios that spilled from his imagination seemed never ending. In one universe, he was a practicing physician not a scientist, just as his mother had wanted, and not an only child. In another, he never existed, or he was a leader of an environmental organization, or he was one of the bad guys, or he wasn't English but Russian. That one made her laugh. She couldn't imagine the chief science officer as anything else and told him so.
At her comment, Malcolm deepened his voice, made sure to roll the r's and enunciate every letter and said, "In Soviet Russia, Russian speaks y-"
"Let me stop you right there, Wallace."
She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. She always had a good time with Malcolm though their interactions were intermittent at best. Despite this, however, she'd come to know a couple of things about the man. He had a penchant for telling jokes, especially ridiculous ones. He was a cinephile and loved to quote films, especially the classics. She'd had to pay a visit to The Eye to learn that his latest line originated from a 1942 film called Casablanca.
Things finally settled down after the recent arrival of the 10th Pilgrimage. To mark the end of the mandatory two-week survival training for the new colonists, Wash was going to treat herself to a drink. She enjoyed teaching and acquainting herself with the newest additions to Terra Nova but she needed some time to decompress. Only two weeks in and there had already been a serious situation involving teenagers OTG and attacking dinosaurs. Was this a sign of things to come?
Shaking her head, she turned in the direction of Boylan's after exiting her compound. The evening wind felt deliciously cool against her bare arms, her leather jacket absent. She allows herself to close her eyes for a brief second and let it sooth her senses, feeling her hair, loose around her shoulders, sway.
She's in a sociable mood so she looked for a familiar face within the crowd. Her eyes searched the back end of the bar and rested on reddish-brown hair. Sitting alone and with a slight frown, an empty glass on the table and nursing another, Malcolm was in a world of his own. She wasn't the type to impose herself on another but something in his face made up her mind for her. Wash made her way to his table and stopped a short distance away.
"Mind if I join you, Wallace."
He looked up, a small smile gracing his lips. "Not at all, Lieutenant."
She took a seat and placed a drink order with the waiter passing through. On a past trip into the jungle that lated four days, escorting a science team to some random outpost, she'd come to get to know Dr. Wallace and learned that he was good company. Funny, intelligent, and charming. And eager for the arrival of the upcoming pilgrimage.
He'd gone on and on about an old friend from school. An Elisabeth Shannon. He told her how a couple day ago he'd finally received word of the approval of his recommendation for her recruitment, stating that she would be a "brilliant addition" to the colony and that it would be a pleasure to see her again. Wash could tell he truly missed her and perhaps something else. But she didn't feel like prying and instead listened to him recount some tale about their antics in medical school.
Taking her drink from the waiter, Wash waited a minute before diving in. "Does this have something to do with the Shannon situation?"
Malcolm looked up quickly, surprise on his face at how easily Wash read him. He tries to deny it, a few false starts before he manages to utter a complete sentence. "No, it's something else completely."
"Okay," was her easy reply. If he didn't want to talk about it, she would wait until he was ready. She drank from her glass, noticing Malcolm completely downed his and ordered another.
"Yes, it does," he admitted with reluctance. "I thought..."
"That she'd arrive without a husband in tow," she completed softly, so no one else would hear. She watched a look of utter misery wash across his features. He brushed a hand through his hair and looked at her, grateful that he didn't have to finish that sentence.
"I was a fool," he responded. "Even if he hadn't managed to cross through the portal, Elisabeth would never betray him."
There was no question who 'he' was. Jim Shannon. Former Chicago police officer, one of her favorite people at the moment (his quick thinking stopped the attempted assassination of the Commander) and current sheriff of Terra Nova. She admired the love and determination it took to keep his family together, regardless of the rules and the danger he put himself in. They were a beautiful family. But she still felt badly for her friend.
"I'm sorry, Malcolm." She didn't know what else to say but she knew further platitudes were not something he'd want to hear.
"Me too," was his only reply. They stayed in companionable silence for some time, finishing their respective drinks. It was then that Malcolm's demeanor changed, apparently having decided that he had given himself enough time to wallow in self pity.
"Let's talk about something else, shall we?"
Wash admired the man's resilience and smiled at him. "You pick the subject."
She really should be more careful about what she says because he just so happens to ask her why she always turns down the invitations of the new male colonists so clearly smitten with her. She tries to come up with something but finds that she's not really in the mood to lie, especially not after Malcolm had bared a little bit of his soul to her. So she settles for the truth.
"Because I'm not interested in them. I don't want to lead them on. It's not my style."
Malcolm gives her a curious look. He's heard the rumors. That Commander Taylor and Lt. Washington were more than friends. He's seen the way Wash frets over Taylor's person when he returns from outside the gates, searching for injuries, not satisfied until she completes her task despite her commanding officer's assurances that he's fine. The way her body tenses, a drastic difference to her expressionless face, when she's awaiting news about him. Malcolm can tell she hates being acting commander of the colony in his absence, that she'd rather be by his side, ready to face whatever comes at them, be it Sixer's or carnivorous dinosaurs. What he's not too sure about is Taylor's feelings. The man is as cool as ice, incredibly difficult to read, but you'd have to be blind not to see the fondness he has for his Second.
"So, you're telling me that there is someone?" He gestures with his hand around the crowded bar, "Anyone I know?"
His attempt at levity doesn't quite fail but falls far from the desired result. She looks down into her glass, a soft smile disappearing as soon as it had appeared. The dark hair that covers one side of her face is pushed back by her hand as she takes a deep breath.
"I think you know."
"It wasn't my intent to-"
Wash cuts him off quickly, "It's all right. I know you didn't."
He doesn't expect her to continue but listens with rapt attention anyhow.
"I'm not ready to cross the line, to see if there's something more. I don't want an awkwardness between us and a part of me is hoping that he'll make the first move."
This is what he likes about Alicia Washington. Honest and to the point. There is no wasted breath when she speaks.
"What a bloody pair we make," is Malcolm's final response on the topic. He brings up his glass, waits for Wash to do the same, they toast to a better tomorrow and continue on with chatter about anything and everything. Sharing laughs and a few more drinks. As the bar begins to clear out, Wash and Malcolm decide to call it a night and make their way up the steps. As they walk out the threshold, Malcolm says one last thing.
"Wash, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
He continued with the random scenarios, this time about her life. Perhaps in one universe she was a secret agent. Or better yet, a double agent. Maybe a bounty hunter. He admitted he couldn't see her without a gun. That brought a smile to her lips.
Malcolm kept firing off different possibilities. Many of them made her laugh (kindergarden teacher, really?). But it wasn't until his quick and flippant utterance of "I'd be married to Elisabeth and you'd definitely be married to Taylor," that changed the atmosphere.
He quickly apologizes. He hadn't meant to say it so loudly nor meant to throw it in her face after she had told him something so personal in confidence. Wash was always careful with the subject of Elisabeth. She never teased him about it and as a matter of fact, never brought it up, knowing it was a sore subject.
Wash knew this and didn't harbor any ill will towards the scientist. After assuring him that it was fine, she excused herself as her lunch break came to an end and journeyed towards the Command Center to complete the mountain of paperwork she knew was awaiting her.
If she was honest with herself, the reason why his statement had caused her pause was because it had come to her mind one morning. In a moment of weakness, during the brief periods she allows herself to indulge in the mysteries of life, of the many paths her life could've taken, of the possibilities of meeting Taylor had she not become a soldier, if she were older or he was younger, if she'd met him first, it had come to her. She's not proud about it. She loves her life. She has a purpose here in Terra Nova, 85 million years in the past. And she's more than happy to keep the genuine friendship with her C.O. if that's all she'll receive from him.
But it hurts as well. Unrequited love. Or at least, having to deny her feelings for a man she's known half her life. Not being able to touch him, caress his face, fall asleep with him next to her. Not knowing if he feels the same. It's the not knowing that's the worst. Sometimes, the way he looks at her when she arrives back from a mission, or when they're completing paperwork at his desk late into the night, leaves her wondering. He isn't the type of man to pretend, to lie.
Wash tries to remember when exactly she fell in love with her C.O. When she'd joined his team, she had been well aware of the honor. The great Nathaniel Taylor's reputation proceeded him and she'll admit she had a bit of hero worship. When she and the rest of the team met his family, a beautiful wife and an adorable son, her admiration for him grew. She'd gotten to know Ayani, a sweet woman who welcomed her husband's soldiers with open arms and had taken a shine to the young combat medic.
The rumor mill in the colony would have you believe that she's always been in love with the Commander. That wasn't true. She acknowledges that she found him handsome from the get go but when they'd met, he was a married man and she had someone waiting for her back home. It wasn't until she was recuperating stateside after her near fatal injury in Somalia that something changed.
Five weeks into her recovery, her boyfriend had visited her and told her that he couldn't handle the separation. That time apart didn't make the heart grow fonder. That he was sorry and hoped she'd get better. Adding insult to injury, he told her he was seeing a mutual friend of theirs. It was also around this time that Corporal Miller, another member of Taylor's unit and someone she considered a friend, visited her before leaving on another deployment with a new unit, and told her what happened a couple of days after she was medevac'd. Lined up and forced by the rebels to select one civilian each, saving that individual life but condemning the rest. Taylor had chosen Lucas. There was no need to elaborate.
A couple more weeks passed. Alone. No visitors. She didn't have any family, no boyfriend, friends quickly forgot about her. Sadly, it was quite common in the life of a soldier. Something to be expected. Still, she was lonely and the physical therapy was grueling.
Her next visitor caught her completely unaware. She certainly wasn't expecting it to be Taylor. He'd told her he wanted to make sure his soldiers were doing well (the one's still alive at least, remained unsaid). He also talked about a project in the works, a possible solution to Earth's problems, but didn't elaborate. He just said to keep an eye out and that he'd see her soon. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before he departed. She didn't see him again until 2142, four years later, but he manages to stay in her thoughts during the time in between.
When he tells her about Terra Nova, she jumps at the idea, ready to find a purpose for her life. She'd spent the last four years wandering aimlessly. The world was dying. There was no future, not really. But this, Terra Nova, was a chance to start anew along side a friend.
It was after passing through the portal as part of the 1st Pilgrimage and setting the foundations for the colony that her feelings grew. Their familiarity with each other and the time spent together set the stage. The rest is history.
So, here she lays. On her bed, wide awake, indulging in one of those rare moments. Perhaps in another universe, she and Taylor are happily married. But that really doesn't matter because she's in this reality. Maybe one day she'll have the courage to confess her feelings to him. Maybe he'll beat her to it. She just hopes it doesn't take some life altering event to push them towards it.
With a minute to spare before the alarm goes off again, Wash rises from her bed, resets her clock, and gets ready for her day. She finds Taylor waiting for her, leaning against the railing of the Command Center, a smile on his face as she ascends the stairs.
A/N: In my mind, Wash is alive and well. Well, not well but alive. And returning for season 2. Also, I wanted to give Malcolm some time in the spotlight, inspired by his interaction with Wash during the Harvest Festival in episode 09. Like him, I love Casablanca as well. Great movie!