A/N: I am absolutely loving your responses! It's so great knowing that people like my story – and with such passion! Here's another update, just for you guys.
Enjoy!
Exhaustion and hunger had Lucas stop at three and a half klicks out. Setting Skye down, he couldn't help but groan as the pressure was relieved off his back and shoulders. His chest throbbed, pounded in such a way that walking itself hurt – and he hadn't even acknowledged the tension in his legs. He dropped down beside Skye, eyes lingering on the nearby stream. Skye followed his gaze, wondering what was going on in his mind. His genius brain seemed to be working all the time. Skye was sure that his mind was probably worked even while he slept.
"Are we getting food now?" she asked, determined to play on his aggravated nerves. She shifted her weight, keeping as much pressure off her ankle as possible. "You promised me we'd get food two hours ago."
"In a minute," Lucas growled, waving her into silence. "We have to find it."
Skye feigned naivety. "Oh, really? I thought it just, you know, grew on trees in those little packages we get back at Terra Nova."
Lucas frowned, his eyes scanning the trees. "I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm right now, Bucket."
"What makes you think I was being sarcastic?"
He rolled his jade green eyes at her. "You're not stupid. I wouldn't have kept you alive if you were."
"Oh?" Skye's eyebrows arched in surprise. Something nagged at the back of her mind even as she spoke up. "I thought you were just keeping me hostage, that way you had something against Taylor."
"See," Lucas said, smiling as he pushed himself to his feet, "what did I tell you?" He tapped her forehead. "You're not stupid."
Skye wanted to kick herself. Lucas, with his ingenious mind, was at least ten steps ahead of her no matter what she said – unless she targeted his relationship to Taylor, of course, but that elicited anger and rage…and she wasn't very capable of dealing with those very well, not when Lucas seemed capable of splitting open her lip at the very mention of his father.
Thinking of Taylor brought to mind the times they spent on the balcony overlooking Terra Nova, the times when they had played chess. No doubt Taylor had taught his son how to play before the two had become estranged, if that was even the right term. Skye's brow furrowed, her own mind working intensely. Most games, even if she lost against Taylor, she had kept him guessing, had kept him on the run. It had started out that he would be ten moves ahead, but as time progressed and Skye had grown better at playing, the move count had diminished until Taylor was only one ahead.
She'd have to play the same game with Lucas. Learn more about him, learn how to throw him off guard, learn what his strategy was, and then she'd drop that ten-moves-ahead game to just a few, if not less. Hopefully, it would help her escape – and keep Lucas from getting to Taylor any time soon.
When Skye glanced up from the ground, her mind set on the new tactic, she found Lucas standing over the stream, his eyes focused intently on the water. Unlike the stream they had been at earlier, this one flowed much faster. From what Skye could see from her seat, silver flashed in the water, made it glint. Lucas crouched over the water, his hands cupped in such a way as to not let anything past. He stared unblinkingly at the water, waiting.
Skye didn't realize that he had that much patience. From what she had seen over the past few days, Lucas was notorious not just for his mind but for his impatience – and the anger that accompanied it.
Lucas darted forward, hands swooping down into the water. Skye jumped he thrashed and grappled with something, water spraying everywhere in dizzyingly high arcs. Skye forced herself onto her good foot, strained to see what Lucas was doing. She heard him grunt amidst the flurry of scattered water.
The splashing and thrashing stopped as suddenly as it began. Drenched from head to foot, Lucas stood in the middle of the stream, clutching something that could have been a fish, if not for the size and shape of it. Skye tried not to stare in wonder at the creature. How Lucas had managed to hold onto it while it had been thrashing for its life, she had no idea.
"Lunch," Lucas muttered, more to himself than to Skye as he climbed out of the water.
"Is that, um, safe to eat?" Skye asked. Her mind flashed back to Terra Nova, back to when Hunter had a thirty-foot parasite feeding off his intestines – all thanks to drinking unfermented "moonshine," as they called it. Having unrolled much of the worm out of him herself, Skye wasn't too keen on eating or drinking anything that would have the same kind of response.
"I wouldn't eat if it wasn't," Lucas snapped, taking offense. What did she think he was, stupid? He shoved the creature into her hands. "Hold that."
Though he was loath to do so, Lucas built up a fire – a small fire – and slapped the creature onto the crackling flames. The smell of the cooking flesh would attract other wildlife, but with the gun still equipped with a full clip, there was nothing to worry about. Having survived a Slasher attack once, Lucas was confident he could survive again – if only barely.
While the creature was cooked, Lucas stripped off his shirt, revealing his bare chest. The maggots had washed off in the struggle for the creature, as had much of the dried blood. The maggots – larger, more adept versions of their posterity millions of years later – had cleaned out Lucas's wounds so well that they had already begun to heal over. Infection wouldn't set in unless Lucas reopened the wounds and left them untreated.
He draped his two shirts over a rock he had managed to drag over next to the fire. Skye watched with barely concealed interest as he stripped off his boots and socks, placing them beside the fire as well. Though she was sure she knew the answer already, Skye spoke up.
"What are you doing?"
Lucas glanced up at her, smiled. "What do you think I'm doing, dear sister?"
Skye suppressed an uneasy shudder. "Drying out your clothes."
He snapped his fingers. "Bingo. Score two for Bucket." He began to unbuckle his pants.
Skye squeezed her eyes shut. "Please tell me you're not going to take off your pants."
She heard him chuckle. "I have to."
"Please don't."
"I'd relent," Lucas said, his voice hardening slightly, "but since you betrayed me twice, I'm not so willing to work within your comfort zone."
Score one for Lucas, Skye thought sourly, score zero for Bucket.
He sat down beside her with a muffled groan as the soreness in his limbs seized him. Skye opened her eyes, tried to focus on the small fire. No matter how hard she stared, she could still see Lucas in the corner of her vision. He had his head resting against the tree, his lips parted slightly, eyes closed. Skye dared to direct her full attention at him.
Relaxed, he looked his age, if not younger. The stubble on his face complemented the lean, sloped structure of his face. His unkempt hair, cut short at odd angles, proved to be quite fitting for him, even though the Slasher scars cut down the back of his head and curved towards his neck, just barely missing his jugular. Skye couldn't help but grimace; she could only imagine the pain and the fear that Lucas had felt during and after the attack.
She shook her head, tried to rid herself of the thought. That wasn't what she wanted. He was evil, nothing but a wicked, sick bastard. He had threatened to throw her mother out of the tree the first night Skye had met him – and he had stabbed his own father! There wasn't anything that Skye could pity him for. Feeling sympathy for him only made her sick.
Nevertheless, she let her eyes wander down his body. A few scars marred his flesh, testaments to the trials he had experienced while forging ahead with his plans to one-up his father and satisfy his employers' needs. The scars cut over his lean body, over the lightly defined six-pack of his abdomen. Skye had seen her fair share of beautiful men, but none seemed to come close to the way Lucas looked at that moment.
"I hope you're not thinking about stabbing me."
Skye jumped, tore her gaze away. Heat crept up the back of her neck, more so from embarrassment and self-hate than from anything else. She shook her head, fought back a cry of anger and frustration.
What's wrong with me? she asked herself, tensing involuntarily as she felt Lucas's eyes on her. Determined not to show her vulnerability, she straightened, jutted out her chin.
"If I was?" she prompted, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"You're smart, like I've said," Lucas replied, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking. "Right now, I'm your only chance of survival. Killing me wouldn't be…conducive to your escape."
Not that she had been thinking of stabbing him – thank God he didn't know what she really had been thinking – Skye still shivered at the accuracy of his words. He seemed to know her so well, better than she knew herself.
"Besides," Lucas continued, rising to his feet once more, "killing isn't in your nature, Bucket. That's why you didn't put the gun to the highest setting, isn't it?" His eyes bored into hers, struck deep into her soul. "That's why you cleaned me up last night."
"I cleaned you up," Skye managed to say, finding it difficult to breathe, "because you threatened me."
"I'm not a doctor." Lucas bent over the fire, prodded the creature, determined it was safe enough to eat. "You could've easily plucked some poisonous plant from behind me and smeared it over my wounds. Then I wouldn't be here right now – and you'd be starving to death, if not dead yourself."
"If you were already dead," Skye retorted, "I wouldn't have sprained my ankle – and I would've been back at Terra Nova right now."
"Don't lie to yourself, Bucket." Lucas slit open the creature with his knife, cut a few slabs off for the two of them to eat. As he came over and placed a slice of the meat in Skye's hands, he leaned in until his lips brushed her ear. "You have no idea where you are."
Skye refrained from responding, knowing that, yet again, she had been outmaneuvered. Staring down at the charred meat, she bit into it. A different kind of flavor flooded her tasting senses, made her mouth water. She hadn't realized she was that hungry. She greedily bit into the meat, watched as Lucas did the same – with just a fraction more control that her. Skye didn't care. Getting the food down – and keeping it down, she realized – was more important than manners. Not that Lucas had any, from what she could tell.
"Where are we going?" she asked once she finished off the first slab.
A faint smirk touched Lucas's lips, made his eyes twinkle. "To the Badlands."
Skye stopped mid-chew. "You said that once I helped you, you would take me back to Terra Nova!"
"I never said that," Lucas pointed out, chewing on the tender flesh of the creature. "You didn't actually believe me, did you?"
Deep down, Skye knew she hadn't – not since she had first met him – but hope had made her blind to that knowledge. She glanced away, bit her lip to keep the tears from blurring her vision. She wouldn't cry in front of him, not ever. It would only give him a satisfaction he didn't deserve. Skye passed a hand over her face, wiped away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. He had, yet again, been too many moves ahead. Lucas chewed quietly beside her, eyes focused on the profile of her face.
"You're a monster."
Lucas inhaled deeply, his eyes hardening. "Don't worry, Bucket. Your big brother will make it up to you. Just wait and see."
