A/N: Hello again and thank you for all your lovely reviews. We are now one step closer to the end! I'm still getting questions about writing for a season two, so I will mention again that I hope to write for Michael in what would have been a 'season two' sometime in the future, but it will likely take a while. I do have ideas though. I also would like to point out I have vidded for Michael in a few OC collab videos with littletonpace. You can search my username jemmalynette on youtube to try and find them if you are interested! Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Thick as Thieves chapter 29

The plan was in full swing. Word of enemy soldiers and their rovers being attacked outside the gates were soon circulating around the colony. The resistance was fighting back with a vengeance.

And Lucas was furious.

Michael watched as his brother swept everything off of their father's desk, sending it all clattering to the ground. Weaver's bitter gaze was finally torn from Michael, watching the other Taylor brother with a slightly unnerved look. He was probably afraid of what Lucas' temper would make him do next. It seemed everybody lived in trepidation of that.

Mira had already left with some of her people to explore what was known as an area called The Badlands. Michael didn't know why, but apparently their mysterious employers had shown an interest in the place. He had only heard rumours about it himself, not enough to explain the reasoning behind the excursion. Even Mira seemed confused about the order, but she wasn't about to disobey the people who had her daughter.

Before she left, he had managed to slip one of the thumbnail-sized trackers in one of the smaller pockets of her rucksack. When she saw him hanging around her rover, however, she approached him suspiciously, her dark eyebrows raised.

"What are you up to, Corporal?" she questioned in that stern, hardened tone of hers. "You looking to hitch a ride to freedom?"

He chuckled mirthlessly. As if. But at least she hadn't seen him place the tracker. He presented himself coolly, leaning against her rover, making her see he wasn't threatened by her; not anymore.

"Just looking for answers," he stated guiltlessly, "about these so-called Badlands you're going to."

"Oh yeah? What about it?" She pushed past him and started going through her pack. Michael swallowed nervously, seeing her hands brush against the pocket containing the tracker.

"I was just curious, that's all. We always thought that nothing was out there. You must know something if they chose you to go there."

Sighing irritably, she discarded her rucksack – much to Michael's relief – and turned to give him an unfriendly frown. "Look, I don't know what's out there. I don't pretend to know what the hell it is those people want to achieve, I just do what I'm told and hope they're satisfied."

"Right. Because they have…"

"Sienna. Yeah. So when they say 'jump', I say 'how high?' Understand? It's not my job to question their motives."

Michael felt that pang of sympathy for Mira that he had buried long ago, that he had tried not to feel. "We could help you get her back, you know."

She almost laughed at the ludicrous proposal. "Yeah? And how are you going to do that?" When Michael failed to respond, she rolled her eyes. "Just stay out of my way, okay?"

She shoved past him again and into the rover, Michael watching them drive away. And Lucas says she likes him? He was finding that harder and harder to believe. But at least that was one out of three trackers planted. Hopefully his father's team would keep tabs on her and maybe discover why on earth she had been posted out there.

Meanwhile, it was obvious the plan was working. Michael didn't need any more evidence except the angry red in Lucas' cheeks and the frustrated scowl in his expression. Reports of attacks had been happening throughout the evening. Lucas figured it out soon enough.

"Someone's helping my father," he fumed, his hunched shoulders rising and falling with the heavy weight of his breaths.

Everyone was silent, waiting for Lucas to come up with a solution. But he never came up with one. Instead, he took Michael by surprise when he offered to buy him a drink.

Wasn't he just throwing a tantrum because their father was winning? Shouldn't he be in a panic? Trying to take action?

No; he wanted a drink. And he wanted Michael to figure out who was helping the Commander.


Even with the warmth of the alcohol inside him, Michael was discontent once again at Boylan's Bar. Sitting there with his brother who, just moments ago, was tearing up the Command Centre in a fit of juvenile rage, Michael could see Lucas was now calm again, staring down at his cup with a melancholic glare.

"Even when he's abandoned his own people, they still fight for him. I'll never understand it," he muttered, hunching over the table as Michael stared at him.

"He hasn't abandoned us."

"Oh yes, I forgot," mocked Lucas. "He has that master plan to save you all – every last one of you. If he had any ounce of sense, he would run deep into that unforgiving forest and never, ever come out."

"Why?" Michael asked. "Because that's what you did?"

He was met with an icy stare, yet still another sinister smirk. "Just tell me. How did the Commander know about those rovers?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Lucas looked unconvinced, but in their silence they overheard Boylan tell Josh Shannon to give their table a refill. The younger Shannon shuffled hesitantly over to their table and poured the brothers another drink.

"Another Shannon, huh?" Lucas asked, dismally amused. "You seem to be everywhere."

Josh, unwisely, put the cup down a little too hard. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" he offered miserably.

Michael felt for him. He'd noticed the kid seemed down ever since the attack. He remembered Skye saying something about a girlfriend on the eleventh pilgrimage who hadn't survived the explosion, but with that in addition to everything else, it was no wonder he was in pain.

Lucas stared down at the cup, annoyed. But he seemed to notice Josh's downbeat attitude as well.

"You look sad," he deduced, looking up at him – he must have recognised that look. "You didn't lose a friend in all this, did you?"

For a second, Michael thought he may have been genuinely sympathetic for the boy. But no. He found it pitiful, perhaps, and Michael sensed the sarcasm laced in his words.

"Buck up, Kid," Lucas added, the condescension in his voice much clearer now as he stood and dug in his pocket for something. "Here's a terra. Go buy yourself a new friend."

"Lucas," Michael hissed as his brother sat down again. Josh quietly slunk away and Michael continued to chastise his brother, feeling like his parent all of a sudden. "What makes you think you can treat people like that? You of all people know what it's like to lose someone you care about."

Lucas' eyes flashed with hate once again. "Exactly!" he snapped. "He thinks he's the only one who knows what suffering is like? I know suffering."

Michael would have tried to argue further, no matter how futile it was, but Lucas had sprung up all of a sudden, a smile growing on his stubbly face. Michael turned to look in his direction and saw that Skye was coming down the steps.

"Skye?"

"Bucket. So glad you could come," Lucas greeted her. "Please. Sit."

She sat opposite Lucas, a frown fixed on her lips. Lucas sat too, bearing a toothy grin. He was the only one smiling. Well," he began cheerfully, "here we are. The perfect family reunion. All we need now is the old man."

Michael and Skye glanced at each other, unsure of what to say.

"Is that it?" Lucas asked with faux disappointment. "It's been so long, and we finally have the opportunity to talk properly – is there nothing you want to tell me?"

Nothing; only the banter of the men in the background and the distant sound of cups being clinked together in morbid celebration.

"Well, then, how about I start?" Lucas leant forward, glancing between the both of them, the sly smirk still in the corner of his mouth. "As I understand it, we all have something in common." He let that statement sink in for a second, watching the expressions of his companions; he had their attention. "Like it or not, we have all betrayed the Commander at some point. We have all felt the wrath of his anger, his – disappointment.

Michael's jaw tightened. This was the last thing he felt like discussing, and judging by Skye's despondent look as she gazed down at her twitching hands on her lap, she felt much the same.

"What I would like to know is…what did the Commander say when he forgave you? Either of you? I'm curious."

Both were silent, and as the silence grew, so did Lucas' arrogance.

"Oh, don't tell me," he said, amusement in his voice, "you are as forgiven as I am."

"What we've done doesn't compare to what you're doing," Michael snapped. Lucas seemed surprised.

"You know I'm not just talking about the invasion, Michael."

Michael stared at him, unsure whether he wanted to say what was on the tip of his tongue. He knew Lucas was convinced their father blamed him for what happened to their mother in…

"Somalia?" he intoned.

Lucas shook his head. "For being born," he answered, sitting back in his chair and bringing his cup to his lips. "For the unforgivable act of...being born."

He seemed lost in his own thoughts then, maybe even saddened. There was enough regret in his green eyes to last a lifetime.

"How can you say that?" Michael ventured, appalled.

"Easily," Lucas mumbled. "Because it's true, brother. We both know the Commander has always preferred you to me. You were his perfect little golden boy. I was the oddball, the outcast." He leant forward again, his eyes suddenly wide and intense. "He never wanted me. There was never supposed to be a me. It was never supposed to be twins. It was always supposed to be you."

"What?" Michael whispered, hardly able to find his voice, hardly able to understand how Lucas could truly think this. He glanced over at Skye, as if for some confirmation, but she was just as lost for words as he was. "Lucas, dad cared about you. He –"

"Don't," said Lucas sharply. "Don't tell me about how he loved me and how he just wanted to help me. Don't tell me he saved me. Just don't." He sighed. "We are just sad, pathetic, broken little toys to him. The moment we disappoint him, he's ready to throw us in the trash."

"That's not true," said Skye, the sudden appearance of her voice almost making Michael jump. She was staring defiantly at Lucas.

Lucas seemed almost sympathetic. "Oh, but it is, Bucket. And I'm sorry. I know how much it must hurt you. Both of you. I just want you to know, it's okay, because you don't need him. We have each other now."

Michael watched Lucas place a hand on top of Skye's. She didn't move a muscle, but she did break his gaze and stare at his hand, as if thinking. He wondered what was going on in that head of hers. He wondered if she was being swept up in Lucas' manipulative words just as he once was.

Or maybe she was contemplating a way to get that tracker on him.

When Mira had been given her orders to explore the Badlands, Lucas had summoned Skye for a meeting at the Command Centre. Lucas had seemed captivated by her, as always, springing up immediately, eager to have the presence of her company. Michael watched as they both talked on the balcony, and although he couldn't hear their voices from inside the Command Centre, there was something about the way they stood and looked at each other. Skye didn't seem as afraid as he thought she might be, and Lucas looked as though he was hypnotised. Was this all in Michael's head?

He had scrutinised the way Lucas had delicately placed one of Skye's loose curls behind her ear, the way he leant so close to her. Skye frowned but she didn't recoil. She walked away after he was done talking, and Lucas watched her, the trace of a smile on his lips.

Michael had gone over and over it in his mind and it was becoming obvious that Lucas had some kind of infatuation with the girl. But this had given him an idea.

During all the madness with the attacks, Michael had got a message to Skye; a message containing the tracker. If Lucas had no issues getting physically close with Skye, then it made sense that Skye would be able to plant a tracker on him without him even noticing. Affection made him careless. The moment he let his guard down, that was their chance. But he only let that happen with Skye, it seemed.

It looked like she had received the message and was willing to at least try.

"Could I get some water?" she asked hoarsely, clearing her throat. She seemed to be directing the question at Michael, who after a beat stood up from his chair and offered to get some for her.

He was a little apprehensive about leaving the two alone together, but he figured the water was some kind of code word. Maybe she needed Michael out of the way before she could plant the device on Lucas? Besides, he was hoping to find Alicia anyway, perhaps ask her how things were going on her end.

When he approached the bar, there was no sign of her. But he felt relieved to see Tom on the other side, offering him a friendly – albeit slightly worn – smile.

"How're you holding up?" Michael asked him.

"Aw, I can handle these guys, no problem," he insisted, although Michael could tell he'd been having a tough time. "How are you doin' with…?" He nodded towards Lucas who was still talking with Skye – about what, he couldn't tell.

"Horrible," confessed Michael, folding his arms over the bar and leaning lazily against it. "He's not what I thought, Tom. All this time fighting for him…worrying about him…he's become so angry, hateful."

"Five years in the jungle with nuthin' but dinos, Sixers, and burning hatred for ya old man - I'm surprised he has any marbles left."

Michael frowned and found himself glancing back over at the two, and now Lucas had his hand by Skye's face, timidly tracing his fingers along her jawline. He handled her like a precious jewel or something, like she could snap in his fingers. Michael had never seen him like this before. The way he stared at her, he looked rather child-like, mesmerised, enchanted by her delicateness, her beauty.

But she wasn't delicate. She shook off his advances, and although this went against the plan, Michael couldn't help feeling relieved. He asked Boylan for Skye's water, and when he turned back, he saw instead that Skye was holding his hand, the tiniest coy smirk playing at her lips, and he began to wonder how much of it was really an act.

"I swear there's something not quite right about those two," he pondered aloud to Tom as he came back with a new cup.

"When it comes to Lucas, nothing's right."

Michael sighed, taking the cup and then smiling briefly at Tom. "Oh, Tom…if you see Lieutenant Washington, tell her…." Tell her what? What could he say? "Just tell her I was looking for her."

"Will do," Boylan smiled understandingly.

"Thanks, To—"

CLANG!

The noise surprised him, causing him to drop the cup and send liquid spilling onto his leather boots.

"What the…"

SMASH!

He looked up and Josh Shannon was at the table with a tray in his hand. Lucas was on the floor bleeding, disorientated. But the astounding thing was that the kid kept coming back for more. He grabbed Lucas' head and punched him right in the face.

"JOSH, STOP IT!" screamed Skye at the top of her lungs, but it was too late for that. The damage had been done, and someone was going to pay the price.

Two Phoenix Group soldiers had grabbed the boy, restraining him, and Lucas quickly composed himself.

"Hold him up," he ordered.

Now he was really angry, wiping the blood from his lip. He was going to use Josh as an example. Michael saw the humiliated anger in his eyes, but also – relief; relief that he could finally take all that anger and frustration out on somebody.

The men held Josh back and Lucas took a swing.

Skye yelled at him to stop. Michael headed over there, pushing through the forming crowds, but just as he did, he was stunned to see Skye grab Lucas' arm and turn him to face her.

"Please stop," she begged. "He was just trying to help."

Lucas stared at her, his eyes scanning every inch of her pretty face, taking in the desperation written all over it. He looked as though he might have been swayed.

But he wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Bucket. He has to pay."

He turned to the men who held up a weakened Josh, hanging loosely in their grip. And the beatings continued mercilessly. Michael had to intervene. He was just a kid – Jim Shannon's kid – and Michael knew how crazy he could get when one of his children were in danger.

He pulled Lucas away from Josh and immediately he recoiled at the contact. He shoved Michael back.

"Lucas, stop this! He's just a kid!"

"Just a kid?" he scoffed. "But old enough to challenge me." He turned to Josh and shot him a menacing glare. "I say let him prove himself – how much pain can he really take?"

He went to hit the Shannon boy again when Michael caught his fist, stopping him.

"Foolish choice, Michael," he seethed before punching him in the gut with his other fist, forcing the older brother to his knees. Then Lucas pushed him down further and left him there for the soldiers to deal with. When was it that he became so strong?

"I've gotta say, I'm a little hurt," Lucas said softly as he strode over to one of the tables and propped himself up against it. "I've been nothing, if not generous, in my treatment of you people."

Two soldiers pulled Michael to his feet; he could do nothing but endure Lucas' smug little speech, inwardly scorning at the use of the word 'generous'. "You brought this on yourself," Lucas continued, his condescending gaze locked onto Josh. "And now, I'm going to have to make an example of you –"

SMASH!

It took Michael a few seconds to realise what had happened. Skye must have run off to get Jim Shannon, and now he had attacked Lucas with all his strength and fury. He probably took one look at his son and felt his instincts take over – instincts to make Lucas suffer.

Michael's eyes jumped from his brother sprawled out on the floor again, to Skye who had followed in behind Jim, to the man himself who seemed to be taking out one soldier after the other.

Was he insane? Michael called out for him to stop. Did he want to get himself imprisoned, or worse, killed? But he seemed to be doing pretty well, blocking attacks and throwing grown men aside like they were nothing.

In the end, Michael fought away his guards and decided to aid Jim, pulling soldiers off of him until the enemy closed around them and pointed their guns. They had no choice but to stop.

Walking over to them, nursing his bruised head, was Lucas, calm as ever, ordering his men to search Jim.

"I have to say Sherriff," Lucas began, surprisingly void of anger, "the limp...very convincing. My father would have been impressed."

On the table, the soldiers placed Jim's possessions; a few terras and a couple of transponders. Lucas continued, the bitterness rising in his tone: "Did you, uh…did you have a good laugh about it? The last time you saw him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," claimed Jim, but Michael knew it was too late for him to feign ignorance. He had blown it.

"No?" Lucas said incredulously, the smallest scornful smile on his face. He picked up the device carefully and raised it so Jim could see. "A transponder…" He nodded, the angry smile still on his lips as he pieced it all together. "So that's how my father always knew when – where – to hit us. Planting these on our vehicles, Shannon? Clever." If he hadn't been so bitter, he might have been more impressed. "Where's my father?" he asked collectedly, the inevitable question.

The silence was torturous.

"WHERE IS HE?" Lucas exploded. Also inevitable, his cool façade came crashing down around him, and he let his intimidating rage take over. But it wasn't enough to scare Jim, who remained quiet, staring back into Lucas' flaming green eyes.

But then he was composed again, just like that, the furious scowl replaced with a feeble smirk. "Maybe I can help you remember."

"Lucas," Michel said, as if saying his name again in that warning tone would deter him from doing whatever it was he was going to do next.

Of course, it never worked.

"Quiet, Michael!" he snapped, not taking his eyes away from the two Shannons. "Take him to the Brig. Both of them."

As the men took Josh and Jim Shannon away, Lucas approached Michael, smiling through his bloody mouth, seeming glad – glad that Jim was his father's accomplice rather than Michael. It showed what little he really knew.

"I have to deal with this," Lucas told him, seeming genuinely apologetic that their gathering had ended this way. His gaze flicked to Skye in the corner, still reeling from what had just transpired. "Why don't you help Mr. Boylan here clean up?" he suggested to Michael. "This will, uh, likely take a while."

Michael said nothing as Lucas left the bar, and his gaze settled on the mess that he had left behind. Chairs and blood and spilt drinks littered the floor.

Well, he thought spitefully, it wouldn't be the first time Lucas had left so much damage and chaos in his wake.

TBC