Thanks to all of you who are reading, and reviewing. I'm just so in love with Wash's BAMFness that I can't help but continue to write about it, but I promise I am trying my best to get us to a Wash/Taylr reunion!

Chapter 3

The ride was anything but smooth, the tires of the truck almost no match for the bumpy terrain. Every rut in the path they travelled pushed the suspension to its limit, rattling the occupants and cargo in the back. Wash certainly had had worse rides in her life, but those hadn't been with her hands chained to the floor and her head feeling as if it were split open. She was lying on the floor, feeling her consciousness fade in and out as her head was knocked painfully against the hard surface beneath her with every bump in the road. At least someone had thrown a blanket over her, the rough, grey military-grade wool almost comforting her in its familiarity.

The truck stopped almost abruptly, jerking her wrists against the chains. Someone shifted next to her and a bright flashlight beam fell onto her face. Despite her closed eyes it was bright enough to intensify the consistent throbbing in her head. Wash was tough and she didn't complain, but the constant pain and lack of proper medical care was wearing on her. She'd been seriously injured before, but adrenaline had kept her going until she could get medical treatment and the painkillers she'd received eventually made the whole ordeal bearable. Now, as a prisoner, not knowing where they were or what their plans were for her, the combination of pain, uncertainty, and a likely head injury were making her afraid. Wash did not do afraid.

"Why are we stopping? Are we there already?" The voice came from almost directly next to Wash and she thought she recognized it as that of the odd archaeologist.

There was more movement in the truck, footsteps and then the creaking of the back door. An ear-splitting screech erupted outside, reverberating through the truck. Shouts soon followed, military commands as far as Wash could tell. There were some screams and then the staccato of rapid-fire military rifles. Another inhuman screech sounded and something heavy hit the side of the truck, shaking it enough to topple some of the cargo.

Someone slammed the truck door shut, hopefully locking it in place before making their way to the back of the truck where Wash was chained. She had no strength to move, or even lift her head, but she didn't need to see to know what was happening. Wash had been OTG enough times to recognize the shrill sounds of the Slashers before they ripped their prey apart.

"What the fuck is happening out there?" asked the archaeologist and Wash wanted to laugh at him. How could he come to a cretaceous jungle and be surprised at a dinosaur attack?

"Dinosaurs, a damn many of them. Shit." It was the voice of Sgt. Black, who must have been assigned to be Wash's guard considering she seemingly had yet to leave her side.

"Well, shouldn't you be out there? Killing them or something?" Dr. Jones sounded slightly panicked, though Wash couldn't exactly fault him for that. She remembered quite well how forcefully her heart had pounded during her first Slasher encounter. Of course, Taylor had been by her side then. Wash had never been afraid with the Commander at her side.

Sgt. Black scoffed, dropping down to sit on the other side of Wash, as far away from the door as possible. "I'm not going out there. I like being alive."

'Coward' ran through Wash's head, but she decided to remain silent. She really was in no position to antagonize the only person who'd shown the remotest bit of concern for her. Wash felt someone reach over her and suddenly a beam of bright light was blinding her eyes. She couldn't stop the groan that escaped her, especially when cool fingers grasped her jaw to turn her head.

"Hey, Wash, you still alive?" Sgt. Black looked down at the prisoner, just a little bit in awe at her former superior. Not only had the woman survived a point-blank shot to the head, but she'd very nearly managed to kill her guard and escape just a few days later.

There was another heavy thud against the side of the truck and they could still hear the screeching and gunfire outside. Black nodded towards the door, eyes focused on Wash who was barely managing to look back at her. "Lieutenant, you know what those things are?"

"Slashers," Wash ground out, attempting to push the offending flashlight away but the chain stopped her hands.

"Can they get in here?"

"No. I don't think so." Wash tried to move her head now, but Sgt. Black had a hold of her jaw and was apparently trying to torture her by shining the light directly into her eyes.

Black finally moved the light, but kept the beam close enough for Wash to still be able to see her face. The sergeant looked slightly worried, but there were Slashers pillaging outside after all. "Your pupils are different sizes. I'm no medic, but I think that's bad."

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind Wash's field medic training attempted to assess the information, but none of it actually reached her conscious mind. She knew it wasn't a good sign, but couldn't explain why or what to do about it. Black watched her for a few moments in silence, something akin to concern on her face. Wash figured her best bet was to work with whatever compassion the soldier had.

"I know you don't agree with this. If you take me back to Terra Nova, Commander Taylor will make sure you're taken care of," said Wash, almost ashamed for practically pleading with this soldier to save her life. However, it was one thing to bravely stare death in the face in the form of Lucas Taylor's gun, and another entirely to die slowly and uselessly as a prisoner of their enemy.

Sgt. Black smirked and threw a quick glance at Dr. Jones, who seemed to hardly be paying them any attention. He seemed incredibly worried about the Slasher attack, his nervousness showing as he took off his glasses to polish them for the fifth time.

"I think I'll go check if the Slashers are gone," said Sgt. Black. She stood and made her way back to the front of the truck, ignoring Washington's offer of asylum in Terra Nova.

The sounds outside had stopped and Black unlocked the door, pushing it open reluctantly. Almost immediately a sickening stench of blood and gunpowder drifted into the truck. It was almost entirely dark outside, the full moon and truck headlights of the vehicles behind them offering only partial illumination. The sergeant shone the flashlight across the ground, holding her gun in the other hand. She jumped off the truck bed and was immediately swallowed by the darkness.

Wash saw her second chance for escape. A part of her knew she was too weak and too well guarded to even attempt it, but the stubborn part inside of her refused to simply accept being a prisoner. That part reminded the rest of her of section three of the Soldier's Code of Conduct: If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and to aid others to escape.

She had already failed at section two - I will never surrender under my own free will - when she turned Terra Nova over to the enemy. But not matter how much the soldier within her protested, Wash could not muster the strength to lift herself up. In a way she was almost glad when she noticed several human shapes moving at the door before climbing into the truck, taking the choice out of her hands.

There were three of them now; with dread Wash recognized Lucas and Mira as they made their way over. Sgt. Black locked the truck doors again and all three moved to the back, their flashlights offering just enough light to show Lucas was injured. Lucas dropped heavily onto the low bench, while Mira went over to the stack of cargo containers off to the side.

"Unbelievable. A whole squad of soldiers unable to fend off a few dinosaurs," said Mira angrily, as she searched through a plastic crate. She grabbed something from the crate and turned towards the others. "We'll stay in here tonight; we can't fully assess the damage until tomorrow."

"I don't remember putting you in charge," Lucas ground out, though he was clearly in pain despite his arrogance.

Mira tossed a box at his feet, the look on her face one of pure annoyance. "I think that Slasher did it for you. Just hope the Lieutenant can stitch you back up or we may finally be rid of you."

Lucas sneered, but said no more, clearly more hurt than he let on. Mira kneeled down and pulled the blanket off of Wash. She grabbed the chain and yanked on it. "I'm going to unlock these. Don't try anything stupid, you don't stand a chance against us all."

Mira removed the shackles from the lieutenant's wrists then grabbed her arm to force Wash to meet her eyes. "Lucas got a little too close to a Slasher. You're the only medic here, so you'll have to fix him up."

Wash wanted to laugh in her face, but managed only a weak chuckle. "Why in the world would you think I'd do such a thing?"

"You can either do as I say, or suffer the consequences," said Mira, gesturing with her gun for emphasis.

"I don't care about your threats, Mira. I'm not aiding the enemy," said Wash, feeling just a little like her old self in her defiance.

Mira scoffed and leaned just a little bit closer. "You don't think I could make you beg me to finally kill you? You learn a lot of things out in the jungle."

Wash remained silent. She had no doubts Mira had learned quite a few effective torture methods, but there was no way Wash was ever going to let the Sixers' leader break her. Lucas let out an angry groan and leaned over despite his injuries. "You're not giving her the right incentive."

Mira frowned at him, clearly not sure what incentive could be more motivating than slow death through torture. Lucas curled his bloody fingers into the front of Wash's shirt and brought his face close enough she could smell his breath. "If you don't cooperate then I will let Mira do as she pleases and after she's done with you, I will send you back to my father. Piece by piece. How do you think he'd like that?"

The dread that filled Wash at the thought of the Commander receiving parts of her mutilated body robbed her of all her defiance. She was convinced her survival was merely a stay of death and once Lucas was done with her he would finish the job, but she desperately hoped Taylor would never know she'd been alive, in the clutches of his crazy son. Taylor was a sensible, tough soldier, but Wash knew he would blame himself for failing her. He'd be nearly swallowed by his guilt. Wash couldn't let that happen. Even if she could never actually tell him how much he meant to her, she could save him this pain.

Wash painfully and with some difficulty used her hands to push herself up. The wall behind her was really all that kept her upright as she leaned against it. Her head was spinning, streaks of red and black shooting across her vision. Her face throbbed painfully and her hands shook and Wash was positive a Carno had more medical aptitude than her at that point. Nevertheless, she reached for the medical kit Mira had tossed at Lucas's feet.

Lucas threw a triumphant look at Mira and leaned back, his self-assuredness obnoxious. "I always knew you had a thing for my father, Lieutenant. But he was just using you, wasn't he?"

Wash ignored the dig, instead focusing on the medical supplies in front of her. "If you want me to stitch you up you have to come down here."

Lucas seemed to want to argue, but was apparently hurt enough to acquiesce. He painfully lowered himself to the floor of the truck for his father's lieutenant to fix his wounds. It was somewhat ironic, Lucas mused, that she was here now, fixing him instead. Her hands shook as she removed his torn and bloodied shirt. Lucas was confident that his threats would ensure her complete compliance and the thought of controlling his father's favorite little soldier excited him to no end. He figured, perhaps after she'd outlived her usefulness to the mission, he'd still follow through on his threat. Thinking of the look on his father's face if he found his lieutenant's maimed body Lucas grinned.

xxxxx

Commander Nathaniel Taylor sat at his desk, appearing to all the world deep in thought. He was completely still, his eyes trained on his right hand, which was the only part of him moving. In his hand he held two metal tags and he weaved them back and forth through his fingers almost absentmindedly. But Taylor was anything but deep in thought or absentminded. His mind was starkly focused on those tags, on the cool feel of them against his skin, on the dried blood, which had rubbed off onto his fingers as he continued to handle them. Perhaps in some way literally wearing Wash's blood on his hands would allow him to deal with her figurative blood on his hands.

Taylor sighed and leaned forward, clutching the tags tightly in his fist until it became painful. The metallic edges biting into his skin could hardly cover any of the agony he already felt, the giant, gaping hole Lucas had torn in his chest, not with his knife, but with his gun. With the gun he had held to Wash's head. With the gun he had used to execute Taylor's best friend, confidante, and maybe something more.

He pushed away from his desk angrily and stood. There was no point in thinking about what could have been. They needed to rebuild Terra Nova and come up with a solution to the Phoenix Group problem; Wash wouldn't want him sitting here wallowing in self-pity and misery.

Taylor quickly crossed the Command Center and was just about to exit, when Jim Shannon came through the door. Shannon stopped abruptly upon seeing the Commander and no matter how quickly he caught himself, Taylor noticed the surprise on the man's face.

"Commander, didn't know you'd be here," said Jim, hoping he didn't sound nearly as suspicious as he felt.

"This is my Command Center, Shannon, where else would I be?"

Jim made a face and shrugged slightly. "Out?"

Taylor squinted at the man and Jim shifted uncomfortably. The thought of messing with his sheriff was almost enough to bring a smile to Taylor's face, but it immediately reminded him of how he used to do the same to Wash and his face hardened. "What do you need, Shannon?"

Jim had been told the Commander would be making rounds along the perimeter and he'd have undisturbed access to the Command Center, though someone had obviously gotten some times mixed up. He was desperate to look through the personnel files, through Washington's file, to see if there was any way they could track her in case she was still alive. The last thing he wanted, however, was to let the Commander in on what they'd found. Jim didn't think it would be a very good idea to get Taylor's hope up for what could potentially amount to wishful thinking, especially not with the serious threat of Lucas and the Phoenix Group still looming over their heads. So he decided to share other information, hoping the importance of it would make the Commander forget how suspicious this encounter had been at first.

"We've found something, near Outpost 5."

"Phoenix soldiers?" asked Taylor, deciding to ignore whatever reason had really brought Shannon to his office.

Shannon nodded. "Dead Phoenix soldiers. A lot of them."

Taylor raised his eyebrows. He had not been expecting that. "This just got interesting."

He carefully put the tags he still held into his pocket and led the way out of the Command Center.

to be continued