Skye trudged homeward, her shift over at the medic center, exhaustion seeping into her bones. It had been about four months since the Phoenix Group had left Terra Nova destroyed beyond recognition and the colonists who remained had thrown themselves into rebuilding their world.
She herself had been working non-stop, helping everyone however she could, whenever she could. Most of the people who knew of her part in all that had passed had forgiven her after learning of her reasons. But the truth remained that Commander Taylor could still barely stand to look her in the eye, and that she had a long way to go in terms of gaining everyone's trust. And so Skye worked herself sore every single day, desperately trying to redeem herself.
Elizabeth and Jim Shannon had taken her aside many a time and had insisted in that comforting way of theirs that she had no reason to stretch herself so thin. No reason at all. They had asserted multiple times that all was forgiven; that anybody would have done the same in her place. Lately even Mark and Maddy – the perpetually happy couple – had taken to joining her own personal shrink team.
What they didn't know – what she couldn't tell them – was that her betrayal to the colony, to Taylor, wasn't the only thing that made her itch for redemption. He wasn't the only person she had betrayed.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Lucas Taylor's jade eyes, accusing her, shocked that she, his Bucket, had deceived him. Chosen his father over him. The picture of him bleeding on the floor of the unforgiving jungle had robbed her of her sleep. She would wake up in the middle of the night, every night, calling out for him. And then, every night, she would get down on her knees and pray to any God that existed that if nothing else, Lucas's stubbornness would keep him alive.
This was ultimately the reason that she punished herself. The man had taken their home by force. He had led the enemy right into their world. He had killed Lieutenant Washington – a woman Skye had adored; the mother figure in her makeshift family with Commander Taylor – in cold blood. And yet she yearned to see him alive and well. Craved for him to touch her like he used to; so tenderly with just a hint of the raw power he bridled in just for her.
The guilt would be the death of her one day, of that she was certain. How could she take care of her pseudo father day after day, making sure that the façade he put on for the benefit of the colony didn't become a permanent part of the man, when she felt so much for the son who had destroyed him? The commander hadn't really recovered after Lieutenant Washington's death. The man had almost shut down, only mustering up enough emotion to inspire his people.
Skye had always had her suspicions about the relationship the two had, and now they had been confirmed. It made her heart bleed for the man who had taken her in as his own. He was the last person to deserve this. And yet, she couldn't find it in herself to hate or even condemn Lucas for all that he had done. She couldn't even think about what kind of person that made her.
With a sigh, she made her way into the cabin she shared with her mother. Between construction duty, her internship at the Medic Center and making sure both her hospitalized mother and Taylor were well taken care of was no easy task. Exhaustion wasn't a strong enough term for what she felt right then.
Moaning at the thought of sinking into her warm bed, Skye opened the door to her room and froze at the sight that met her; shock, fear, and joy warring for superiority within her.
"Hello Bucket."