Note: This plot has been bouncing in and out of my line of sight since the show aired and I somehow doubt we'll be getting a huge amount of info about it this season (fingers crossed for more seasons!). So, I decided that I wanted to explore Taylor and Wash's lives (I'm a helpless romantic for these two…they have so much potential!) before the Shannon family arrived. As a warning, I may get a bit caught up in school and work (college life tends to get in the way) but I hope to update every Wednesday.

This is unbeta'd so I'm up to any advice from all you amazing authors since I've never written for a show this new (and I've only written for one other..soo…yeah) and if I'm getting too off character please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Everything can be improved upon =] thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I'll never claim to.

2142

24 hours before the 1st Pilgrimage

Harsh, winter winds spiraled lazily outside the business building across from Hope Center. Billowing in beige swirls, landing in sticky designs along the outer window, it gave the impression of snowing in a dust storm. Darkness reigned overhead in ominous warning to the weather as people bustled about their lives in fear of choking to death on their own air; people that had families, people that had jobs, people that had before the planet took a turn for the worse. And it was individuals like those below that were to blame for such planetary chaos – the use of technology without regard to the environment.

Earth was in a state of decay, and for the man looking out the window, across the large, circular structure, and into the land beyond the haze, he couldn't think of a more perfect start for new life. The Terra Nova project was, by far, going to be his greatest achievement; something to really stake a claim in that couldn't be so easily yanked from him. And yet…

"It's not just about saving our species in time." A young man sitting at the opposite side of the room placed his arms beseechingly upon the wide, black table before the committee present. "It's whether time itself can be saved." The stack of data pads in front of him had multiplied by the day, if not the hour, according to the man standing by the window

"If we can control the past, we can control the future." A very intimidating, but frail woman sat at the head of the table, nearest the windows facing Hope Center. Her long, silvery hair was a testament to her old age, but her eyes, the fiercest green anyone had encountered, pinned the young scientist with feral demand. The man pacing behind her had long since recognized her as a world power on her own, despite actually being one. "Isn't this what you have been saying to us since we sent the probe back into the past?" Her lightly irritated voice drags a decidedly bored tone from her throat; a scratching, mocking sound that rubs the man standing in all the wrong ways.

"Yes, but I'm not sure you understand-"

"Lucas, listen to me." The way she folds her hands together seems agreeable, but the glint in her eyes, the 'don't go there' fire, seems to quell Lucas Taylor…if only for a moment.

"No, you listen!" A genius he may be, but manners were never his strong suit. "Common sense," He spits the words out at her, at them all, in his flash of frustration, failing in his attempt to draw his self-control in as he bangs his hands on the table before him. "Tells us that objects persist across time, that there is some sense in which we will all be the same today as we will be tomorrow. If this is a different time stream, then the fact that we can communicate with the probe tells us something is invariably wrong." He glances fervently towards every face at the table, and when he's met with barely an inch of complete understanding, he lets loose a ragged sigh.

"Or invariably useful to your work." Her features contort into a mimic of what they can only assume to be empathy on her face, a soft look belayed by her ever present patronizing. "Commander, what do you think?" And then the unspoken, deal with this.

Nathaniel turns away from the window and fixes his blue eyes on his son at the other end of the room. A million things seem to translate between him and Lucas, but of what he's not really sure. Hatred and blame he recognizes, but the other emotions? Gibberish.

"I'm just glad I'll be able to persist through time, Madame President." His response garners a few, nervous chuckles from the table, but the important few aren't laughing. "She's right." He watches Lucas slowly ball his hands into tight fists, driving his fingernails into the palm of each hand. "Until my team and I get to that probe and report back, we won't know anything for sure." It's diplomatic enough. The world leaders and their pet wallets seem to be in agreement with him. A job well done.

"Always the hero." It's just loud enough for everyone to hear and for such a pointed statement Nathaniel feels only a cold hand grip his heart - a frown of disapproval instantly on his face. Though for whom he can't say; for the metaphysical whiz on the other side of the table or for himself. As much as he wants to roar that Lucas has never understood his duty to the country and to their family, the Commander simply simmers in his anger as he watches his son excuse himself from the room, leaving bitterness in his wake. The urge to rush after him, ram him up against the nearest wall and beg him to understand what the hell this is all for is nearly overwhelming.

The simple truth is, Nathaniel Taylor has only begged once in his life and it wasn't out loud.

"Commander," The President indicates that he take his son's place at the position opposite her and he moves to accommodate her instruction, albeit slowly. "We all appreciate Lucas's contributions and vast genius on the topic at hand." There's a major 'but', with a capital B, coming up like a freight train. "But," She says, looking at the file before her as if she needed to recall what she's already memorized the night before. Theatrics. "In order to preserve the Human Race, Terra Nova must succeed." She taps the folder on the table and gives him an icy stare, one he returns in full. "Do I make myself clear?"

For a moment, his lets her words dangle until he's sure that they are a desperate command to carry out the political agendas of the present future into the past – soon to be present. "Perfectly, Ma'am." Straightening, out of habit or some kind of dismissal, he waits, watching her as she scrutinizes him.

"Good. If there's nothing else?" She pauses, looking at her fellow leaders and business colleagues who return shrugs and light head shakes, she nods. "You may go. I will see you and your team at 0500 tomorrow."

"How'd it go, sir?"

Taylor almost misses his second in command standing outside the seal-shut door as he storms from the room, leaving the politicians to their discussions with barely concealed rage. When they reach the elevator, and he's sure she's still following along –why the hell wouldn't she be?- does he give her a glowering look. "That bad?" She's smirking around her rebreather, and he can't help but return the look with one of his own.

"Yep." The elevator dings open, and they step inside. Where the hell did Lucas go to? As the question swirls uncomfortably in his gut, he notices his lack of being able to breathe isn't from holding his breath. And the tingling along his spine isn't from his irritability. He practically shoves the rebreather over his face when he catches her staring at him, her brown eyes stern and expectant. "What?"

Her only response is a shrug as she returns her gaze to the lit numbers above the elevator doors – slowly descending.

"Lucas is worried about time contingencies - that we shouldn't be able to communicate with past and present." He pulls the mask away from his face as he speaks and glances at her, scowl back in place.

"What do you think, sir?" Was everybody gonna ask him that today?

"It's over my head, Wash. The sooner we get there the better." It's plain that taking sides against his son is literally the last thing he wanted to do, but they rarely state the obvious. Blessedly, the elevator comes to a jarring halt and they step outside and into the main entrance hall to the building. The new, well reassigned, Department of Homeland Security was bustling with activity as suits and uniforms from all over the world rushed to their perspective jobs. Running away more like, he thinks with a sour look, cowards. But then again, what exactly was he doing?

"We'll make things better, sir." Nathaniel, he thinks but she only uses his name when she's trying to get his attention, and he marvels at her timing. He's tried to peg it before, times where he might expect her to call him that, but he can never accurately guess. And this time is no different. Not that he's complaining. She's definitely reserved the use of his name for more dire situations. It throws him, makes him deflate. Better…for the world or me? The thing is, it makes him feel tired…resigned. A soft smile creeps its way onto his lips, subduing the raging storm of worry in her eyes.

"Course we will." He boasts the thought of them taking on the world – a whole new world- together; building something that will last. He's smiling down at her when a flash of data pads and holographs catches his eye. Lucas is spinning away from someone he'd collided with, and disappears out the rotating doors of the lobby. "See you at 0500, Wash." Distracted, Nathaniel bolts for the doors, leaving his lieutenant staring after him.

In all reality, no one should be running with the atmosphere in such a contaminated state, let alone in sub-zero winds. Like every day, the pollution seems to suck the life out of the people that might have once enjoyed their time outside. But the poisonous snow that rains down from above gives the huddled masses he darts past a dying demeanor. They seemed nothing more than broken shells of civilization. This is what we're remedying. Where greenery used to greet a tourist's eye, now stood looming buildings in disheveled up-keep. Broken windows, howling, toxic winds, and hundreds of people that still milled about despite the dangers. They had to. Life couldn't just stop being lived, time didn't just end.

"Lucas!" He pulls the rebreather from over his head to better call after his son, only to inhale a gust of frigid, dirty air that leaves him choking. Gulping air through the mask as he brings it up to his face, the Commander searches the crowd with a meticulous eye; watching for the athletic build, the dark hair, and the backpack that contains all of his son's work. This would be their last chance to talk in private, to hash out what happened in the past; despite their dancing around the topic at every encounter – mostly Taylor's own doing. He just can't talk about that yet, not with her memory so fresh in his mind. He doubts he'll ever, really get over it.

At first he's eyed by miserable passersby, feeling the weight of dread in his stomach at the fact of losing sight of his son, until finally a break in the crowd reveals Lucas crossing the tram tracks. The younger man takes a quick look around, eyes darting from side to side until he disappears around the corner of a brick building about a block away. Taylor's brow furrows as he dashes across the street, forcing the shiver from his body as he focuses on the alley way between the brick apartment building and the steel structure of new family homes. A sign, emblazoned with flashing advertisements, currently shows a happy family of four as he approaches.

"They wouldn't listen!" Lucas's angry, exasperated voice echoes between the buildings and Nathaniel is forced to duck into the shadows, hugging the brick wall in front of the apartments as he strains to listen.

"Don't worry, they will." Surprised to hear a woman's voice, Taylor inches closer to the corner of the wall and peaks around it. "They've already got it set up. You can start your real job after your father's team makes it through the portal." Real job? Nathaniel looks between his son and the woman shrouded in thick blankets that effectively cover her entire body from head to toe and successfully keeps her warm and unrecognizable. A shiver races through his body and he distantly envies her image of material warmth.

He has two choices: approach or garner valuable information. But choosing the latter isn't really an option. The mystery woman nods, takes the backpack from his son, and walks away without another word. Lucas watches her go, a furrow stitched crudely on his face, until he turns back down the alleyway.

Nathaniel darts back out of sight, listening to his son's boots knock against the cement, and steps out to block his way. "Wanna tell me what the hell is going on, Lucas?"

"I knew someone was watching us, just didn't think it'd be you." His son stops a few paces before him; eyes a burning mixture of loathing and betrayal.

"So there is an 'us'." He said, "Good to know I've got my facts straight." Could he be anymore sarcastic? Yeah, but it's doing its job in getting a rise out of his son just as it is.

"You don't know anything."

"Enlighten me, then." Somewhere between his last statement and this one, his voice has turned into something of a growl. A sharp (hysterical?) laugh bursts from his son's mouth as he throws his head back. Lucas begins to walk towards him and Nathaniel can't help but be on guard; both panting in the contaminated air between talking and sucking in a few breaths from their rebreathers.

"Ah dad," Lucas says, reaching to pat the Commander on the shoulder as he walks by. "You just do your job and I'll do mine." The arrogance of this kid, if he thinks he's gonna get away with that one.

In a second, Nathaniel has his son pinned up against the wall, his forearm across the younger man's throat. Something akin to a snarl brings his lips up into a mirthless smile as he turns his icy, blue eyes on Lucas.

"My job?" He says, pressing his son into a panic as he applies more pressure. "My job saved this country from-"

"Your job killed mom!" Lucas chokes the strangled yell out until it's just a repetitive whisper. "It killed her."

Damned if he can't help it, Taylor balks from the accusation. How many times had he heard that? How many times had he seen the blame thick in his son's actions, eyes, and work?

How many times had he looked in a mirror to see the same reflected in his own gaze?

Too many.

Nathaniel shoves himself away from Lucas, his chest physically aching. His brain tries to rationalize that it's the conditions of the air that makes his heart squeeze painfully, that constricts his lungs from gathering air. It's easy for him to blame the planet just then; to lay the burden of things on circumstance. But when he has nothing to say, either out of mutual guilt over what happened to Ayanni or the acceptance that he and Lucas won't ever be the family they used to be, he lets his son walk away without another word.

He arrives to find his team surrounding the foot of the stairs leading up to the bridge that houses a direct entrance to the portal. One of his Corporals is laughing loudly, clapping another soldier on the back as they all chatter excitedly. Taylor can't help the light smile that sneaks its way onto his face and isn't surprised when Wash worms her way to his side, eyeing the two cups of coffee in his hands until he hands her one. "Careful. There's extra, extra sugar in that one, Wash."

"Thank you, sir." She says, sipping the steaming liquid with relish. She likes her coffee so sweet it isn't a wonder she's always so awake after drinking a cup. Three spoonful's of sugar and three dashes of half and half. The synthesized milk they have these days literally turns the drink white with only a little added, but the plaster inside her cup could coat a cake like frosting.

"Figured one last coffee until the next pilgrimage couldn't kill us." He'd finished his on the way over and suppresses the need to squeeze the shit out of the cup when his son appears at the top of the stairs, beckoning them upwards. As much as his subconscious wants him to think about his son's hatred towards him, Taylor shoves it on the back burner. He has a job to do, and the job has always come first. Why should he stop now? Wiping the frown from his face, he smirks at Wash.

"Gulp it down, soldier." He punches her shoulder lightly, but just enough to make her spill a little through the sipping hole. First one up, Taylor feels excited as he tosses his empty coffee cup at a random technician. Test runs always require an amount of personnel to be present. It makes them look like they know what they're doing. There isn't an ounce of anxiety coursing through his system and he tries not to glance at Lucas as he watches the streaming white and blue light before them.

Wash has effectively caught up with him, her cup gone from her hand as well.

"Ready?" It's a question he asks all of them, though mostly her as he gives her an affirmative nod. There's a real adventure awaiting them in the past.

"Always, sir." She says in affirmation.

"Listen, you're going to experience some possible vertigo with all the oxygen. Whatever you do, don't hyperventilate." A doctor from beside Lucas begins to tell the soldiers how to breath; short, deep breaths. But Taylor is only half-listening. They don't understand…you can start your real job. Nathaniel whips his head around towards his son and the two men share a stoic look before the doctor claps his hands together. "Alright, you can step through Commander. Remember everyone, one at a time."

"See you on the other side Wash." He leans towards her with a smirk and tosses his bag through the portal. They watch it vanish before he steps up to the threshold of time and disappears.

It takes Alicia Washington a few seconds to realize that the only thing she's stepped through is nothing. Her combat boot thuds on the metal flooring of the time bridge and she looks a little more than confused until it gives way to realization.

"What happened?" She demands, her serious tone indicating someone better fix it and they better fix it fast.

"We're not sure…" Lucas starts, his voice drifting as he taps along the various data pads and holographs displayed before and beside him.

"Not sure?" She's by his side, staring at the alien language of time travel as he scrutinizes the numbers and calculations. Making sense of everything before her isn't going to happen, but it gives her something else to look at besides the gaping nothing that had just become Nathaniel Taylor.

"I told them it wasn't stable Lieutenant." He drags a strand of numbers towards the center screen, plugging it into a larger contingency. "The time strands were aligned to receive all of you. It wasn't stable, I told them it wasn't stable…" He's muttering as he reads the numbers, uncertainty and confusion plastered all over his expression. Wash is sure that if he doesn't shut the hell up and give her answers that she's going to do something less than subordinate to her Commander's son.

"Stable or not, Lucas, can you bring the portal back up or can't you?" Grinding out the words, she turns to face him and watches as his hands stop moving around the pads and screens.

"Yeah, I can bring it back up." He says quietly, turning to look at her with an unreadable light in his eyes. Alicia visibly sags in relief, irritated that he seemed so blasé about this all of a sudden.

"Good." Her back straightens, her hands unfold from her chest, and she reaches for her backpack. "Tell me when." She says as she heads back towards the entry point into the past. Make it snappy, kid. What she didn't expect was the crushing knowledge that time didn't just appear for everyone.

"About three and a half months from now."

Note: Guh! I hope you guys like it. The next chapter will be up Wednesday. I'm thinking about extending some of the conversations…since I feel like I rushed a few of them a bit. (maybe I'm just being nitpicky or nervous haha) Can anyone tell me if there is a prompt post for this archive? I'd like to take a few whacks at some until next Wednesday to get used to writing the characters and all.

Thanks!

BD