Guilty Conscience
AU. After Skye shoots Lucas, he slips in to a coma and is taken to the infirmary at Terra Nova. Stricken with guilt, Skye waits by his bedside for him to wake up, but things aren't looking good.
7 o'clock. She wakes up by Lucas' bedside, watches Doctor Shannon check the many tubes and wires sticking out of his frail body. He's been unconscious for hours. He doesn't look how he did; so much anger and hatred, danger in his eyes. Now he's so still, he's hardly even breathing. No longer a frightening monster but a fragile human being. It's as if slipping in to this coma had caused him to slip in to a different person entirely.
"You don't have to wait here," Doctor Shannon says, standing on the other side of Lucas' unmoving body. "You should go home. Get some rest."
Skye props herself up in her seat, yawns, wipes at the sleep in her eyes. "No," she says quietly, watching Lucas. "I did this to him. If something happens…I want to be here."
Elizabeth tilts her head. She frowns. "You shouldn't feel bad, Skye. Lucas was a troubled, dangerous young man. "
"Was?" Skye repeats, holding her breath. They're already talking about him like he's dead. As if Skye had killed him. She can't bear the thought. A killer? That's not who she wants to be. Not at all. Even if it had been to save Commander Taylor's life.
Doctor Shannon sighs, looks at Lucas' weakened frame. "I hope he appreciates this when he wakes up. We didn't have to save him. Didn't have to use what little supplies we have left so he can heal up and invade Terra Nova again."
Deep down Skye knows she's right. Even when Elizabeth leaves, she can still hear her voice. This boy's a killer, he's dangerous, psychotic. Skye knows. She knows it all.
But please, Lucas. Please don't die.
9 o'clock. She wakes up and it's dark outside. Mark Reynolds is keeping watch in the clinic. Lucas is still in exactly the same position as he was before, like he's made of stone. Or ice. He's awfully pale, white as a sheet, and his lips are dry, parted slightly. His chest is covered in bandages from the surgery, and his hands and face are still dotted with blood as remnants of his violent encounters.
She wonders where the Commander is now. He must care that his son is struggling for survival in a world where no one wants him, if he didn't he would have let him die out there. But as soon as he had his own wounds bandaged, he vanished, leaving Skye sitting here, alone. Wondering if Lucas will ever wake up.
As she closes her eyes again, she thinks she sees his eyelid twitch.
11 o'clock. She wakes up. Doctor Shannon is still here because she can hear her voice outside, and the Commander's too. She hears Lucas' name, as well as her own, but she can't make out what they're saying.
She stretches in her chair, rubs sleepily at her eyes. Lucas still hasn't moved. He looks so child-like when he sleeps. He looks normal. He looks young. For the first time he looks peaceful, and at ease. In fact, he hardly looks like Lucas at all.
She wonders what he dreams of. Is it all nightmares of murder and revenge or does he dream of something simpler? Sweeter? Can he sense that she's here? Can he hear her, feel her?
She reaches forward, touches his arm, and it's surprisingly warm. "Lucas," she whispers. "Lucas, can you hear me?"
She can feel the veins in his arm, his weakened pulse pumping through them, but still, he says nothing, does nothing.
"I'm sorry I shot you," she murmurs, only half meaning it, and then she is greeted by his unforgiving silence.
She goes back to sleep.
1 o'clock. She wakes up. Doctor Shannon's gone and there's a nurse there, watching over Lucas from a safe distance.
He's still lying there, half-dead. Half-alive. His wounded chest rises up and down gradually, and Skye watches it as a comfort. He's still breathing. For now she's not a murderer. But she still dreads the moment she becomes one.
If anybody else had shot him, she thinks perhaps he should die. Perhaps things would be better that away. Perhaps they'd be safer. And perhaps he deserves it. But, of course, it hadn't been anybody else, and from then on she'd be known as the girl who killed Lucas Taylor, the Commander's son. And she doesn't want to make history that way.
3 o'clock. She wakes up and the clinic's a blur as she drifts in to consciousness. She thinks she can hear movement, and for a moment she considers that Lucas may have woken up. But in her blurred vision, she sees a figure looming over his body. Seeing the uniform, she thinks maybe it's one of the guards, or even Taylor, but as the person comes in to focus she realises what he's doing.
He's got a pillow clutched over Lucas' face, his tubes are pulled out, the machines are bleeping. Skye leaps up and screams.
"What the hell are you doing?"
He's one of Taylor's men alright, and probably one of the guards keeping watch. His nose is wrinkled, his teeth are showing, and he's fuming with anger.
"This piece of scum killed Wash," he grunts as he pushes the pillow over a motionless Lucas. "And all those people. He destroyed the colony. He deserves to die."
Skye feels her heart beat fast and for a moment, she can't find a response. He's right. And she wonders whether she should just let him finish Lucas off.
But she can't.
She shoves him away. "Stop it!"
He stumbled backwards. "Why do you want him to live?" he splutters. "You're the one who shot him!"
And before she can form a reply, two more guards rush in to drag him away.
5 o'clock. She wakes up and the clinic is in silence. She glances over at Lucas and his head has turned over on the pillow slightly. His breathing is soft, his skin still pale, but Skye hopes this is a sign. She stands and walks towards the door to get a drink when she hears Lucas stir, and then she can't believe her eyes.
"Bucket," he murmurs through squinted green eyes. He moves slightly and then releases a pained sigh through the nose.
She's silent. He's not dead. Thank God he's not dead. She steps a little closer.
"Where am I?" he asks warily, trying to sit up. He winces. "Bucket…it hurts."
"Good." She wants to sound cruel, wants him to know that he deserves the pain. She steps forward a little more. "You're at Terra Nova. In the clinic. The Commander brought you here."
He manages to laugh scornfully, and with his drowsiness it comes across even more frightening than usual.
Then a beat of silence.
"You shot me," he mutters, his smile disappearing. He tries to sound angry, but only manages to sound hurt. He frowns, still wincing with the pain. In some ways this makes him look a bit like a small child, and so she refuses to be afraid of him.
"You were going to kill Taylor. I couldn't let you do that."
"You," he pauses, sucks in an excruciating breath, "you tried to kill me."
"No," she shakes her head. "I didn't mean - "
He suddenly lurches forward, grabbing at his torso, crying out. Something's wrong. Skye peels back the blankets to reveal his bandages are damp with blood. He looks like he's in agony. He screams. She screams:
"HELP! We need some help in here!"
The nurse rushes towards them and Skye wishes Doctor Shannon was here. As she starts to check his wounds, Lucas' eyes roll back and he starts to tremor violently.
Skye stands back, watches with horror as he loses control of his body. Is he dying? Has she finally killed him? The blood flashes in her mind, and even though he's stopped screaming, she can still hear his cries echoing in her ears.
Lucas is suddenly still. Too still. And then she can hear the nurse tell her he's not breathing and to get Doctor Shannon.
She runs. It's cold outside and too dark to see properly, but she runs anyway and then questions again why she is in such a panic to save somebody who probably doesn't deserve to be saved.
She returns with Doctor Shannon, who is wearing a nightgown under her coat, and feels her heart thunder as she watches the chaos ensue. Doctor Shannon is a blur as she tries to revive Lucas, despite her gut instinct telling her otherwise, but she does her job nonetheless. Skye's chest swells. She can hardly breathe and her eyes start to water with the panic.
He seems even smaller now. He's not the same Lucas. He's weak and helpless and afraid. He's afraid of dying, just like everybody else. She saw it in his eyes, saw that flash of fear and betrayal in them when he said she had tried to kill him.
No, Lucas. I never wanted to kill you. Never.
She doesn't even realise that she's holding his hand and squeezing tightly.
7 o'clock. He wakes up and it takes a few minutes for his vision to adjust. He looks down to see fresh bandages around his chest but the wounds are tender and he still can't move without groaning in pain.
He looks over to see Skye propped up in the chair next to him, staring at him, frowning. Neither say a word, and then he wipes at his eyes and sniffs.
"Why are you here?" he croaks in a weak voice, hardly looking at her. "Why didn't you just let me die?"
She pauses, ponders on the question for a moment. "Because I'm not like you," she answers. "I'm not a murderer. And I'm not going to be."
Lucas gazes at her, open-mouthed, doesn't form a reply.
"You're going to be fine," she mutters, getting to her feet. She looks at him. The colour's back in his cheeks, the green shining in his eyes. "I just had to be sure." And then she heads towards the exit, only looks back once, expecting some sly response that never comes. "Have a nice life, Lucas," she says sarcastically.