A/N: I couldn't help it – after seeing the season finale of Terra Nova, I needed to write this fic. The sexual tension and innuendo between Lucas and Skye CAN'T go by unnoticed. This is an AU fic, with some SPOILERS for the season finale.


"Let's get you back," Skye said, helping Commander Taylor to his feet. Her eyes lingered on his hand, pressed against the cloth that staunched the flow of blood from the knife wound his own son had inflicted on him. She frowned, gently turned him aside so he could start heading off towards the camp.

Lucas was gone. Vanished. Nothing but overgrown foliage remained in his stead. Skye's eyes widened in disbelief. Taylor shook his head, pain that wasn't caused by his wound creeping into his pupils. He turned away, disentangled himself from Skye's helpful grasp.

"This way," he muttered, his voice faltering as he hobbled forward. At one of the towering trees, he paused for breath, glanced over his shoulder. Skye still stood motionless, the look on her face betraying her emotions.

"I shot him." Her voice was quiet, too low for Taylor to hear. "He was dead."

Taylor cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from where Lucas had fallen. "Pick up the gun," he told her, pointing to the weapon lying amongst the leaves. "We don't want Lucas to get ahold of it."

After a moment's hesitation, Skye retrieved the gun from the ground and tucked it in the small of her back, tears of frustration threatening to overwhelm her. She had killed the bastard, she was sure of it – and yet he had disappeared, no doubt to return later and cause more problems to Terra Nova than before – now that he had even more reasons to hate his father and the budding colony.

Taylor forged on ahead, determined to return to camp before nightfall, before the Slashers emerged to feast on whatever moved. Skye stared at the ground as she walked, leaves crunching underfoot with each step. Taylor hardly made any noise as he disappeared among the towering trees. He hadn't even thanked her for saving his life.

Then again, how could he thank her? She had shot his son – his only son, the son of his loins, the son of his deceased wife. He was all that remained of that relationship, and she had gone and shot Lucas, made him bleed, perhaps pushed his life over the edge. With no weapon but a tiny knife, and with the amount of blood coating his face and chest, he would be dead meat by nightfall, if not sooner.

Skye knew being eaten alive was worse than almost any other death – at least, any other death out here in prehistoric times.

She looked up, saw nothing but trees and dense foliage. She stopped, her eyes glancing around, trying to gauge the territory. "Commander?" she called, her voice bouncing around her. "Commander!"

Something akin to a bird twittered nearby, the only response Skye received.

Cold steel pressed against her throat, a hand jerking her back until she pressed against something solid and warm. She tried to cry out, found her voice stuck in her throat. Her hands seized the arm holding the knife, struggled to yank the blade away from her jugular. His grip tightened, the knife drawing a line of blood across her neck.

"Oh, dear sister, don't struggle. You wouldn't want to get hurt, would you?"

Lucas's breath rolled hot over her skin, warm against her ear. Skye swallowed thickly, her heart pounding against her ribs, breath choking in her throat. Lucas breathed heavily behind her, groans of pain slipping past his throat so quiet that Skye had a hard time hearing them. Moisture seeped through her clothes as his wounds wept across the fabric. The stubble of his beard scratched roughly against her cheek as he forced her to turn around in the opposite direction, away from the camp, away from any chance of survival.

"You are coming with me," Lucas hissed, his anger finally creeping into his voice. "I'm sure our father won't notice. You're a traitor anyway – he should've banished you the moment he found out."

"Then I wouldn't have been able to save his life," Skye managed to snap. She struggled against his again, felt steel bite her flesh again. Blood trickled down her neck, slid down her chest in a tiny, snaking rivulet.

"Oh, don't worry." Lucas pushed her forward, winced as pain lanced through his chest. "Next time, you won't be there."

"You sure about that?"

Skye's elbow slammed into his chest, knocked the breath out of him, made his vision flash white with pain. She ran then, sprinted away, tripped over a fallen tree. She jumped to her feet, hair whipping about her face, and raced through the trees, lungs burning as she gasped for air. A high-pitched metallic noise irritated her ears. She faltered.

The ground in front of her exploded. Dirt flew up around her as the shockwave knocked her flat on her back. The air expelled out of her chest in an oomph. White starbursts speckled her vision, disorientation quickly making her senseless. A tinny noise blocked out most of her hearing. Her own breathing sounded miles away, as though it were someone else's gasps for air. The thick canopy loomed high overhead, a dizzying sight that made nausea roll in her stomach.

Lucas stood over her, one hand clutching his chest, the other clutching a gun. Skye had enough of her wits about her to reach behind her and touch the small of her back. The gun was missing. How hadn't she felt it?

"Don't make this hard," Lucas growled, leaning down. "I really don't want to kill you. I really don't." His jade green eyes darkened. "But I will if I have to."

His hands yanked her to her feet. The ground tilted dangerously beneath her. Legs wobbling, she unconsciously leaned against Lucas for support. The hardness in his eyes softened as he guided her forward.

"That's right," he murmured, enjoying the dazed look on her face. "This way."

Skye blinked, trying to decipher the muffled words. The world seemed so bright around her. She wondered for a moment if she had a concussion. Without Dr. Shannon to help her, she could die if it went untreated. She just prayed that the blast had only rattled her senses.

Through his pain, Lucas chuckled softly into her ear. She heard leaves and grass crunching with each step, saw trees pass by as Lucas led her away. She suddenly felt exhausted, too tired to try and fight him. The tinny noise still plagued her, an annoying high pitch that drowned out the rest of Lucas's words. His voice was just a mumble, the words too garbled for comprehension. Skye was almost sure that she wouldn't be able to hear again.

And then Lucas's voice became clear for just a moment.

"You're going to help me recover – and then you're going to help me end my father."