Author's notes: Now we're finally getting onto Lucas' POV, and some deeper interaction which I know we all want ;)! Just as a note, with school and work I'm going to start posting this every other day, so I can make sure that I don't drop off into non-existence like some of my other stories...sorry about those! Haha. But I want to make sure that I have enough time to write properly, so if I can, it'll be one a day, but most likely two :)! As always, I LOVE reading reviews and your opinions, so definitely drop me a line!
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Sadly, still not mine.
Lucas blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to let his mind adjust to where he was now, and why was he there. He was immediately aware of a fiery sensation along his collar bone and clavicle, and looked down to see that he was bare-chested, and that there were two small wads of gauze on his chest. Bucket, he remembered, his temper quickly igniting. She had entered his tent, from god knows where, and had taken it upon herself to fix him, after she had been the one to shoot him. He snorted quietly at that, and people called him a lunatic. At least when he hated people they knew it, he didn't keep them guessing about where they stood with him, except maybe his Father, and he really didn't want to think about that bastard so soon in the day. He ignored the painful twinge in his chest whenever he thought of her betrayal. He should have been used to it by now. His whole life had been one betrayal and let-down after another. What was one more? He shook his head, trying to focus on the situation at hand.
He was aware of a gnawing sensation in his stomach from a lack of food, but he was used to that from his years in the jungle, so that was easily ignored. Another sensation though, such as needing...relief...was not so easily ignored. He levered himself up on his elbows, hissing slightly at the pain running through his chest.
Skye entered Lucas' tent, bringing with her a bowl of broth she had wheedled out of a Sixer guard stationed at the bottom of Lucas' tree, or whatever fancy name she was sure it had. It hadn't been easy, but she had stamped her foot and pleaded with him to just bring her some food for Lucas. Damn idiots, she thought angrily. They needed Lucas and yet no one was willing to help him. She quickly let her gaze swing to where he lay on the bed, and his eyes met hers as he was levered up on his elbows. "What are you doing?" She hissed, quickly setting the bowl down on the floor and rushing over to him. "You can't move, you'll tear the stitches!"
"I'll do what I damn well please!" He said angrily, jade eyes flashing. He pushed his hands flat on the bed and attempted to push himself up more, only to fall back on the bed with a cry of pain as his muscles contracted around the bullet wounds.
"See!" Skye scolded, placing a hand flat on his chest, in the attempt to keep him from rising up again.
Lucas' eyes snapped open. "Hand's off!" He said, teeth gritted in pain.
"I will as soon as you accept you're not going anywhere without my help!" Skye snapped.
"God damnit." Lucas swore. "Help me up!" He muttered angrily.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that!" Skye said with a smirk.
"Don't push it, Bucket," he warned with a snarl.
Her eyes flashed dangerously. She lifted her hand of his chest slowly and brought it round to his back, pushing him slowly up as he pushed down his hands, and slowly, with a lot of moaning, Lucas was sitting upright.
"Okay?" Skye questioned snappily.
"No," Lucas exhaled sharply. "I need to stand up."
"Why?" Skye questioned with a shake of her head.
"Why do you think? I just wanted to enjoy the sights." Lucas said sarcastically as he could while trying to breath through the pain. "I need to relieve myself, Bucket, unless of course you want to do it for me?" He smirked sarcastically.
Skye blushed furiously, and her eyes snapped with anger. She gritted her teeth, and held out her hands, waiting for him to take them. He took in a deep breath, and placed his hands cautiously on hers, allowing her to pull him to his feet, hissing with pain as he slowly straightened up. He withdrew his hands from hers, feeling the colder temperature immediately and slowly began shuffling towards the bathroom area of his tree-house. While he lived in the jungle with the Sixers, he certainly appreciated such luxuries as a mini-bathroom when available, and since the Sixers had built this camp after his directions, he had made sure that the tree-house was equipped with this one luxury.
Skye cautiously watched him walking, knowing that if he stumbled, his stitches would re-open which would cause more damage than if he allowed her to help him, as much as she loathed the idea. He stumbled slightly over a piece of wood that was raised higher than the others and started to pitch over as she rushed to his side and quickly grabbed him around the waist. "I've got you," she huffed. She felt him sink slightly into her side, trying to regain his footing and breathing through the shooting pain in his side. "Ready?" She asked quietly, knowing that the sooner he was finished, the sooner she could get him back to bed and start resting. He nodded slowly, breathing harshly. She slung his arm around her shoulder, leaving her arms around his waist, and slowly began to walk with him the few remaining metres. He groaned in relief when his hand touched the wall, and she slowly removed his arm from her shoulder, and she allowed him to take the remaining steps by himself. Using the wall for guidance, he entered the bathroom area, pulling the curtain across that shielded it from the rest of the room.
She stood outside, blushing furiously, uncomfortable to be so close to him, especially while he was using the bathroom. It was human nature, but it was him, spawn of Satan. She chuckled darkly at the image. He reappeared in a couple of minutes, looking even more pale than before. "Ready?" She asked again.
"Ready," he said on an exhale. He slung an arm around her shoulders this time, and allowed her to lead him back to the bed across the room. She quickly grabbed a pillow that had been thrown to the floor during his shivering and placed it where his head would lie, and slowly guided him down onto the bed. He groaned as he made contact with the cot, and she bent down, grabbed his legs, and swung them over the bed as he lowered himself down. She pulled off his boots as he lay there shivering, trying to recoup some energy, having enough to open one eye to scowl at her as she did so. She merely scowled at him in return, and pulled the blanket from the bottom of the bed over him, tucking it into his sides, trying to keep his body heat in, hoping to burn the fever off.
She grabbed the bowl of broth from where she had left it on the floor, and pulled a stool to the side of his bed. He eyed her warily. "Poison, already?" He muttered.
She scowled at him. "Open up!" She said cheerily, smiling sarcastically at him. He scowled darkly at her, but parted his lips slightly. She dipped the spoon in the broth, and brought it to his lips, pushing the spoon gently inside, allowed him to swallow, and repeated the procedure until it was gone. His eyelids had been fluttering the entire time, him battling trying to stay awake to eat, and his body demanding him to sleep. In the few seconds that had taken for her to recognize that the broth was gone, he had fallen fast asleep, his lips parted slightly, his breathing making small noises in the quiet atmosphere. She almost smiled at the sound. Psycho-killer snores in his sleep! She chuckled quietly in amusement.
Skye looked at her watch, noting that it was almost 22:30. She wondered whether Commander Taylor would have sent out a search party. She shook her head, she knew that he would sent out a search party for her. The question was, would she ever be found?
She stood up, stretching to alleviate the kinks in her back, and quickly surveyed the rest of the tent, trying to figure out where she could sleep. She noted the small couch close to Lucas, about a metre away. Close enough to hear if there were any problems during the night, but far enough away that she wouldn't have to suffer his presence too much! She made her way to the couch slowly, trying to be quiet for fear of waking him. She sat down on the couch, pulled her boots off slowly, swung her legs up on the couch and curled inwards, trying to preserve body heat. The jungle may be hot and humid during the day-time, but the night was a different story. She tucked her hands under her chin, and slowly fell asleep to the sounds of cricket's ancestors chirping outside.
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