AN: this chapter is split into two parts for length reasons, to make it easier to read (thank you to miaparker for the suggestion and the wonderful review. In fact, thank you to ALL my reviewers for your day-making words and support.) However, there is complete continuation from this one to the next, since it was written as a whole.

5. Part 1

But, it turned out that he was wrong.

Lucas had expected her to come to him, but certainly not in that fashion.

He had expected her to be hesitating, pleading, ready to offer him a deal. Trade something she suspected he wanted in exchange for the life of a boy she cared about (his blood still boiled just thinking about it).

But she did no such thing.

She strode in his office as if she owned it, ignoring the soldiers guarding his door, probably because she knew that they had strict orders never to touch her in any way. He raised an eyebrow when she slammed the door shut and stared him down, arms crossed over her chest, anger burning in her so bright that it seemed a lamp had come on inside her pretty head.

"You provoked him." She hissed out between tightly clenched teeth, not the barest trace of doubt in her voice. And he had to smile, because she had seen right through him – for the most part at least.

"You wanted him to attack you. You hurt me on purpose, because you wanted to get to him."

Lucas didn't answer at first, probably because he was trying to gauche why exactly she was this upset: because he had beaten the shit out of her precious Josh Shannon, or because he had used her to get to the boy.

In truth Skye was very much pissed about both. She was almost frantic with anxiety about Josh but she was hiding that under her initial anger over being manipulated by Lucas – Who, by the way, had just proved to her – again - that he was very much capable of anything to get his way.

His ruthlessness frightened and alienated her, but most importantly, it alerted her to his true nature: no matter how many glimpses he might give her of that soul that he had buried so deep, the fact still remained that Lucas was not to be trusted, because he was bent on achieving a goal that meant the destruction of everything Skye held dear.

Skye didn't know how to feel about the fact that whenever Lucas Taylor was around her, he seemed to be different. All his talk about her being his 'little sister', the kindness that sometimes made its way in his eyes when he looked at her. He appeared to change in her presence, that maniacal edge of his softening, quieting down by a fraction, his countenance smothered a little - and the worst of it was that Skye had no idea of it was real, or if she was being masterfully manipulated.

Seemed awfully real to her, and that was what scared her!

Not even Lucas would be able to fake that kind of smile: hesitating, maybe even a little shy - or maybe it seemed that way just because he was so out of practice. The warmth in his eyes had not been a lie, but Skye didn't know if it really meant anything else. Just because he cared about her in some twisted way, it didn't mean he would be unable to hurt her. Just because he was able of feeling some kind of affection didn't mean that now he would be a changed man. Whatever feelings he had for her didn't seem to soften his ruthlessness at all. He was still as dangerous as before – the sole difference was that in his mind he now had a spotlight that shone directly over Skye.

In no language in the universe was that ever a good thing…

Except... Well, despite everything, despite her fear, her confusion and hesitation – even despite her own sense and sensibility - Skye knew that there was one thing she couldn't lie to herself about: she wanted to understand him, to find a way to reach him. After all, Lucas was the son of the man she loved like a second father, a man she respected and cared for a great deal. It was horrifying to her that Lucas could hate his father so violently when she loved the same man so dearly. And how could he ever hate his own father? What had driven him to that? Skye couldn't comprehend it. To her the memory of her father was sacred, her father had always been the sun in her life. The mere idea of having her father was sacrilege, it was like death.

But Lucas... the hatred inside him was real and it burned bright, it moved him and was part of him, of all the darkest shadows of his personality. That blind hatred of his, directed at a man she so cared for, whorepresented everything good she had ever known. The solid dichotomy of it all made Lucas and his reasons a blank in her mind that could not help but wanting to be filled… it was an instinctual pull, something Skye wasn't entirely able to rationalize.

In the end, Lucas was right: No matter how twisted it sounded when he said it, Skye really did feel a connection to him because of 'their father' - as he so morbidly put it. And she also knew that despite every ridges and pit of darkness in Lucas, there was also some part of him, somewhere inside that contorted soul that wanted to be understood, soothed... forgiven.

Why else would he confide in her?

Skye was now aware that something terrible had happened between those two men, torn them apart.

'…for being born, my dear sister. For the unpardonable mistake of being born…"

Those words had echoed around her heart, and she had struggled with the depths of the sadness that she had seen in his eyes.

Which brought her right back to how pissed off she was now, because just when she had felt him so near, so reachable, everything had been shot straight to hell.

She had been the first to ruin it, with her idiotic response to his touch. Even now that she thought about it, Skye cursed herself. Why hadn't she controlled herself? Why hadn't she been able to be as flirty and casual as she had been other times when she had used her charms to get information? It wasn't like she was a newby at this game! She had been playing it for three god damn years! But when she had needed her skills most, she had failed herself like any wildly stupid little girl.

And Josh had been even stupider for jumping in her defense like that. It warmed her heart that he cared, it really did - but they were at war. Josh had to think before acting, otherwise they would never get Terra Nova back!

And with Mister Shannon in the brig, the most important contact to the Commander had been cut…

Lucas had gotten what he wanted. He had a spy to interrogate and a very efficient way to break him: his son to torture right in front of Jim Shannon's eyes. Skye knew that Lucas would not relent until he got the Commanders whereabouts and mister Shannon would be forced to give them, or he would have to watch his son die...

Skye's heart shuddered, her blood freezing in her veins. She didn't doubt the lengths Lucas would be able to go to get what he wanted. She had seen and felt the brunt of his obsession and was not about to underestimate Lucas' dedication to his father's destruction.

Which was why she was here now, pretending to be more angry than she was afraid. Pretending to play into this game of 'brother and sister' Lucas liked to put up around her, pretending that she took everything he said and did at face value, trying to take advantage of the freedom he gave her – trying, in short, to trap him with his own web.

She just hoped she could pull it off convincingly enough.

Her only chance was to never lose sight of the small truths inside this lie: that she really did feel empathy for the part of Lucas that was still able to feel something. That she cared, that she wanted to understand. And if all else failed, that she would rather die, literally, than allow Josh to die for a mistake she made…

"Hurt you? I wouldn't say I hurt you Bucket, I promised I wouldn't, remember?" Lucas said quietly, leaning against his father's desk, relaxed and with a small smile on his lips.

Her temper amused him - so did her brashness.

Her eyes narrowed on him.

"Oh, so it's alright to try to break my fingers as long as it serves your purpose?" She bit out harshly, staring him down. His smile only widened. In a few strides he was in front of her, with his usual swiftness, as imposing as ever… but strangely not threatening. Probably because he was looking at her with that tenderness that looked so out of place in him, making her feel as if he was trying to snatch her soul through her eyes.

Gently, but in a motion that denied resistance, he pried her hand loose (a nice feat since she had locked her arms over her chest so tightly that it seemed she would never unlock them again) and – with his eyes never leaving hers, as if he was trying to burn a hole into her brain – he took her knuckles to his lips and so very gently kissed them, his thumb caressing where his lips had pressed, as if to soothe.

He smiled at her slowly, softly, as if saying 'there, all better.'

Skye didn't realize that she had stopped breathing. She only noticed when she took a deep breath because her head was starting to go fuzzy - and found her lungs being filled with the smell of him: of his soap, sweat, blood and burned wood - of the violence that trailed behind him like a shadow. Her heart picked up, as if she was standing in front of an abyss, tipping dangerously over the edge, the thrill of the eminent fall making her lightheaded.

The tenderness of his actions was so at odds with the rest of him, that it made her lose touch with all of her thoughts and reasoning from before, made her heartbeats stutter. She had thought she was ready for this, that she could face him... but maybe she was not, if fear invaded her so easily whenever he got too close.

"I'm sorry about your hand." He said softly, looking at her in the eye in such a way that her first reaction was to believe him. How could he look so utterly open and warm and be so cruel and heartless at the same time?

"Would you have don't the same thing if Josh hadn't been there?" She asked, this time with less bite in her voice. She didn't want to sound accusing, she wanted to bait him.

His eyes sobered fast, the pools of iridescent green darkening as if a veil had been drawn and hidden them.

"No." he answered firmly and let go of her hand. There was a flicker of anger in his eyes then, but it was gone as soon as it came. Now as he looked at her he seemed he was colder, detached, even though he was still as concentrated on her as he ever was.

"Are you going to kill him?" Skye asked again, and this time her tone was hard, seeing that she didn't feel the need to pretend anymore. She had understood from his eyes that he knew what she was doing.

Lucas leaned on the edge of the desk, almost sitting on it as he crossed his arms over his chest and looking at her as if trying to evaluate her. Skye didn't waver - she didn't feel the tinkle of threat just yet.

"Which one?" Lucas teased, the smile in his lips was as fake as his eyes were grave, the intelligence behind them sparkling dangerously.

Under her withering stare, he faked sudden recollection. "Oh right, the Shannon kid."

His smile stretched open a bit more and Skye found herself thinking that in any other situation, his laid back attitude and easy smile would have made for a pleasant conversation. But the fact that he managed to sound so at ease while playing with a person's life frightened her more than anything. This was what she most feared of him: his incredible ease with violence, his familiarity with its limits, with its practice. The way he could be so nonchalant about causing someone pain or even death.

"I confess I am tempted Bucket, I really am. That boy has been breaking my balls for a while now, it's time he – and everyone else who thinks they can touch me and get away with it – learned a very important lesson." And this time his anger took over his tone, giving her a glimpse of the tempest that was raging inside him, the one he could keep hidden so very well it almost never showed.

"You're not doing this because he hit you – you manipulated him into doing that." She stated, almost looking for confirmation. She watched the little smile play on his lips and knew that that was as good a affirmation as would ever come from him.

Then she decided to go all out with it. After all, there was no use in playing stupid, she already knew what he wanted to do and was here to try to stop him.

"You don't need to hurt Josh to break his father." Skye pointed out cautiously, tone carefully blank and she realized by the way he smiled at her, as if he was oh-so-proud of her quick mind, that she had hit the nail right on the head and guessed is plan exactly.

"See, I'm not so sure. Jim Shannon has the brains and stubbornness of a mule." Lucas pointed out, the insult dealt with humor, as if he was laughing on the inside.

Her eyes burned like blue flame, dancing with emotions, so much that she seemed like she could catch fire any instant. "Everyone has a breaking point. I'm sure you're very much capable of finding out Jim Shannon's."

The disdain in her tone was obvious, she didn't even try to hide it.

His smirk was taunting. "I appreciate the note of confidence Bucket, but unlike your boyfriend, I actually like using my brain, and right now it's telling me that the most efficient choice in both time and effort is to zap Josh Shannon around until either his father tells me what I want to know or the kid's brain liquefies out of his ears."

He had used those words deliberately, to see what her reaction would be... and he got one hell of a reaction. She paled, her breathing stooped for a moment and her eyes went wide, filling with fear even as she tried to keep herself in check. Then a beat passed and he saw the panic subdue. This time it was anger that burned bright in her eyes and she took courage from it.

"Sons shouldn't pay for their father's sins. I thought you of all people would understand that." She hissed between clenched teeth, her hands in fists almost shaking at her sides.

Lucas hadn't expected those words, to be honest. They caught him by surprise, ringing true in a way he didn't like, as if she had turned his reasoning against him without even knowing the full extent of it. He felt that cold slithering voice inside him twist and whisper in his ear, felt the anger in him burn and twist, pushing him to let his temper loose, to explode and make her regret ever trying to manipulate him.

But he didn't. The push of his rage was not as demanding as usual, it didn't overcome him as it usually did, it didn't cloud his judgment. He didn't want to hurt her – and the need rested on a very basic level of his consciousness, so much that now he was withholding reactions that he had never before bothered to control.

But, if his dear Bucket thought that she could play him in any way, she was about to be sorely mistaken. If she wanted anything from him, she'd have to go through the pains of being sincere and straightforward.

The smile that pulled at his lips this time made him look like a predator.

He took one step towards her, stalking his prey with calm, and this time, the alarm did go off inside her head, because this time there really was something to be afraid of. Skye's anger wavered, her feet faltered backwards when he came close and didn't stop - coming even closer.

One hand snapping forward to tangle in her messy hair stopped her from going anywhere after that.

Fisting the curls at the base of her neck in his hand, he angled her head up, so that she would look at him in the eye. Much like the last time he had touched her like that, he brought his forehead down on hers, but this time his eyes were so sharp they would cut through glass.

"You are a very smart girl, aren't you Bucket?" He spoke softly. There was nothing soft about the way he was looking at her though, his eyes nothing but a promise of violence as the anger made them gleam; but the tips of his fingers were like a caress when they skimmed her throat, traced her collarbone. The active threat in his eyes, in the hand that was pulling at her hair was in stark contrast with the soft touch of his other hand – it felt like being touched with both fire and ice. Both equally frightening and painful.

Skye felt herself shiver, fear plundering her gut, cold and sharp like a didn't say anything. She was even afraid to breathe.

"I know you are. So please, don't provoke me. I meant it when I said that I didn't want to hurt you."

By this time his voice and countenance had softened, his grip on her hair had loosened, and his fingers were skimming the back of her neck gently, caressing... burning. She let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and it fanned right on his face, the warmth of it coming back to her. That was how she became aware of how close they were really standing – now that it wasn't about intimidating her anymore, it seemed like a whole new position to be in.

But Skye couldn't see it that way yet. The stench of his threat was still all over her.

Except, now that he was searching her eyes as if he had lost his soul in there and wanted it back, now that she could breathe again and his face didn't seem made out of stone – Skye wasn't sure all of it had been a threat.

One small part of it has sounded remarkably like a plea.

The duality of him had never been more clear to her than in that moment.

"You know he doesn't deserve to die just so you can get what you want the easy way." She breathed out, acutely aware of his hand on the back of her neck. The heat of him was burning through her clothes, he was that close…and for some reason, it felt as though he were even closer…

"Do I really?" His words were like a afterthought, as if he hadn't paid attention to what he was saying at all, because in that moment he looked very much distracted. He was looking at her with utter fascination, as if she was the most interesting thing to ever capture his attention. His stare was fixated, heated, as powerful as it was passionate, the intensity in his eyes stunned her speechless, motionless. Skye felt as if she couldn't take a full deep breath, the air was suddenly too thin to sustain her.

It was impossible to miss it when his eyes moved from her own to her lips and stayed there for a few seconds, how his lips parted ever so slightly, as if in his mind he was already on her mouth, tasting. Skye felt her breath shake, struggling to keep up with his shifts of mood, unable to counteract him, to meet him. Unable to do anything but be the immovable object against which the force of him slammed over and over.

The way he looked at her was frightening, as if he was going to eat her alive like the monsters in the fairytales she used to read as a child. And yet, his hold was so gentle, his fingers brushing her skin softly as he cupped her cheek, a thumb caressing the skin under her ear, making her want to squirm.

What did he want really? Why was he doing this? Was it possible that even someone like him could care for someone else? Sky felt her heart tighten in her chest. Maybe there was an ounce of truth even in his lies… The realization made Skye hold her ground more firmly. If it was so, it was better for her: she would have something real to exploit.

She looked at him expectantly then, strung up and ready for the impact as if he was going to hit her, ready to let him take what he wanted.

But the next moment when he looked into her eyes, he frowned and leaned back a fraction, as if he had read her thoughts as clearly as if they had been written on her forehead. His smile was rueful as he withdrew his touch and took a step back. She was left standing there, confused, feeling weak because of the rush of adrenaline that was coursing through her veins still.

Skye's heart stuttered. Where had she done wrong? What had given her away?

"I won't hurt the boy... much." He said coldly, his back to her as he went to the table at the side of the room and picked up a piece of cloth, dabbing it in alcohol and starting to scrub carelessly at his face.

"You can go now." He then added with the same finality that he had dismissed her from his hut in the Sixer camp, weeks ago.

The relief that flooded her veins almost made her weak in the knees. Lucas' measure of 'enough hurt' was debatable, and there was no telling when he would stop – or if – once he started, but Skye allowed herself a small moment of comfort: a hurt Josh was a lot better than a dead Josh.

And then she caught herself, realizing the full idiotic extent of her own reasoning: she was trusting Lucas to keep his word! Why? If there was one thing she was sure of was that Lucas Taylor was not to be trusted. And yet, here she was, feeling relief, as if him promising her that he wouldn't hurt Josh much was somehow progress.

She had to wake up here, and smell the smoke that he was circling her with, the toxic poison that was filling her thoughts. His tactic of lulling her into a false sense of security was working and she hadn't even realized it. Despite herself, she caught herself believing him more often than she was comfortable with.

That was a mistake Skye couldn't afford to make.

She watched him flinch as he carelessly swiped the cloth over his cheek, and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Men!

Skye pushed her nervousness deep down and tried to act her normal self. Unceremoniously, she stepped towards him.

"Give me that." She said briskly as she took the rag from his hands. He seemed surprised to see her still there, as if he had been so sure she would jump at the chance to leave that he hadn't even bothered to check.

"Sit down." She ordered him flatly and turned to grab the first aid kit that was under the Commanders table. She knew where it was of course - she had put it there.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but after he understood her intention he obeyed, and was now sitting on his father's chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to move.

Skye took heart and neared him with as much nonchalance as she was capable of. Quietly, feeling his ever watchful eyes on her, she moved to put some disinfectant on a clean gauze. Confusion suited him, she thought as she set up the antiseptic.

They both knew why she was here and it had nothing to do with treating his split lip and bloodied eyebrow, but she was doing it anyway. To thank him maybe… or maybe to make him think that he was getting to her, allow him to think he had the upper hand and his plan was working, that he was luring her in slowly.

… and also because, despite everything, she felt like someone should take care of him, so why not her.

She was the only one willing to do it.

Taking care of Lucas Taylor… What a ludicrous notion. Everyone else thought he was just a physiologically imbalanced genius/psycho. Which he was, of course! But Skye had a feeling he was also something more.

Still, Skye had no idea what she had just done, not really. She did not know how far the echo of her actions sounded. She had confused him, yes, but she had also done something more. In this moment, watching as she got ready to clean him up, Lucas was torn between the instinct to send her away and the need to have her near, letting her do what she wanted with him just for the sake of watching her do it. He did not feel this way very often; usually he knew exactly what he wanted. But right from the very start she had been the variable that refused to conform, refused to step into a sure pattern. She was made up of simple interests, but also of very strong reactions, very powerful emotions that drove her actions, thus generating unpredictable behaviors.

She was the variable that could throw the entire equation off balance.

She was doing it right now, by being this close for no reason other than to clean the blood off him. They both knew that he didn't need that kind of attention, but she was there anyway. A strange feeling winced in Lucas' insides, an anticipation that he only felt when he was on the verge of some great breakthrough in his work.

Exhilaration, curiosity.

He smiled. It had been a long, long time since someone had cleaned his wounds for him – almost ten years. He was curious how it would feel, especially because he was her. The thought made his insides warm up with satisfaction, anticipation.

When she looked at him again, she was prepared for his stare - Or at least so she had thought. What Skye had been prepared for was that spark of intent she had seem in him in the bar, or even the frightening desire he'd been looking at her with moments ago, a look that made her want to crawl as far away from him as possible.

But he was not. He was not wearing either of those expressions.

He was expectant, curious even, looking at her without any strings, schemes or afterthoughts, completely focused on what she was about to do, almost like... like a curious boy.

Skye was floored.

He just looked so... when he was so serene he looked years younger, as if he was barely older than herself: a teen with nothing on his slate but the occasional stupidities. One corner of his lips was pulled a little upward as if what she was doing somehow amused him, but there was no derision in his expression, no pointy irony. His hands were resting on his lap, resting loosely and he was looking at her without any trace of shadow in his eyes, his forehead smooth, relaxed.

He smiled at her when she met his eyes, in that same hesitant way that didn't make the barest sense on Lucas Taylor.

… did it?

Skye angled his head up by pressing two fingers on the side of his jaw. He followed her directions, now having to look at her through his lashes.

"This will sting." She said softly, because she didn't need to be louder. The silence was stifling and he was so close, barely inches away. She said it because it was a habit picked up from working in the clinic, but she had known that he wouldn't care. He didn't even flinch when she dabbed the open cut on the side of his lips. He kept looking at her as if fascinated.

She couldn't help touching him with tips of her fingers as she cleaned him up, but what was startling - and send her heart flying from a strong mix of fear and trepidation - was the way he leaned into her touch minutely, as if he couldn't quite help it.

"Please don't hurt him. He's been through enough..." She pleaded softly, barely keeping her voice from breaking, as she cleaned up the blood entirely from the side of his lips. At her words, his brows furrowed for only one moment.

"Shush." He breathed out the word as if, had he spoken any louder, this moment of calm in the middle of the storm would have been unmade - something which he wanted to avoid any way he could. He didn't want to let go of this yet. In fact, this quiet around the two of them was so pleasant, so soothing, that he felt like he didn't want to let go of it ever – much less let it be tainted by anything inconsequential as Josh Shannon.

Peace like this was so rare for him. Even in the middle of the jungle, in the middle of solitude, his head was noisy, always in an uproar, never giving him any rest no matter how much he wanted it. But with her touch, with her just being there, she managed to stifle the scream of his thoughts for a while, soothe the anxiety that moved inside him like a dragon.

He had no idea how she could, with just stepping in his range of sight, focus all of his concentration on herself and manage to hush everything else into silence. After trying to understand and failing multiple times, he had decided that it didn't really matter how she did it as long as it happened. As long as he was able to look at her and not think about anything else, then mechanics of that hold she had so firmly placed all around and over him became irrelevant – providing she was there in front of him, preferably within touching range, like now.

Because when she wasn't… she became as much of a source of torment as the rest of the thoughts that plagued him.

Skye didn't quite feel the same calmness he did however, and Lucas could see that. She was tense and her hands were a moment away from shaking.

"Relax Bucket. Nothing really bad is going to happen." he said quietly, looking at her with a small smile. She met his eyes, her hand stopping halfway before she reached for more antiseptic.

He was smiling at her that small secretive smile again, the limpidness in his eyes assuring her that he was calm and it all gave her a sense of truth, as if he was being sincere… as if he meant every word.

And maybe she was just that desperate, but this time she chose to believe him. She didn't exactly have an abundance of options. He'd made sure of that. she was aware that she was isolated and alone… paradox ally, she had reached a point where the only help, the only contact, coin come from him.

Her heart shuddered in her chest.

She was alone...

TBC