A/N: I couldn't resist this fix fic contribution. Because this is how I picture her coming back in season 2. If there is a season two. I hope so. If not that's totally cool. We can all live with the notion that she was supposed to die but didn't and end it there.

Anyways, I figure three chapters to be sufficient enough for this.

There was something distinctly gratifying about knowing his son lost. There was something just so satisfying about knowing his treacherous flesh and blood hadn't been able to kill the one person he had left to think of as family. It was just so pleasing to stand here, beside her bed in the infirmary and know that despite Lucas' best efforts, not even he could take away his lieutenant.

It'd been a month since his return to Terra Nova. The joy; relief at being informed of her still holding on in here had been enough to knock the breath right out of him. He remembered marching from the gates on his third day back into the infirmary, cursing the nurses for not informing him sooner. When he'd seen her unconscious form hooked up to a vital machine, he thought about getting on his knees and beg her to live. To keep fighting because he needed her.

Her face had been bruised black and blue, her nose broken. By the off set of her jaw, the blast from the stun gun had done a number on her. It was a wonder she wasn't reduced to a vegetable.

Now sitting with her looking at her fixed nose, healed jaw and slowly fading bruises, he couldn't help but smile at the image of her. Because she had fought, defied the enemy to the very end. She was his lieutenant. His ever loyal soldier- companion.

His fond smile faded like it had so many times before. If he'd been faster- if he'd just allowed her to come with him- she wouldn't be here, still on the brink of death. The gash in her head from impacting the pavement needed nothing more than the stitching spray. Psychically Dr. Shannon said she'd heal; be perfectly fine. Mentally… she had a ways to go. Her head had been jarred real bad. She'd been blasted at a close proximity and it messed with her neurological flow patterns.

It wasn't looking good, not from a soldier's point of view. If she was lucky- hell, if he was lucky- she'd wake up soon and just be off duty for a few months. But as he stared at her unflinching form, he knew it wasn't practical.

And he needed to be practical. Having false hope only got people hurt. His heart lurched. He knew his lieutenant hoped until the trigger was pulled that he'd come for her. Save her somehow.

God but he'd wanted to. So badly. He was prepared to go in and shoot them all down but Shannon- bless him- made him see reason. He stood by and watched helplessly as Lucas pulled the trigger; her head blow back and her body fall.

He'd only ever been heartbroken by a death one other time.

But she was alive. Found by a nurse and taken into the care of their system.

"Come on, Wash." he mutters. It was the first thing he'd said to her all month. Torn between wanting to utter promises, apologies and admonishment for her actions.

"Snap out of it." he said louder and immediately quieted himself. His eyes looked worn with worry, exhausted with holding onto the hope of her coming out of this and still being the same old Wash.

He gripped her hand. It was cold.

He held on tighter. "Push through it, lieutenant. Fight this." Perhaps if he ordered it she would listen.

The tiniest movement;, the tiniest twitch of her fingers in his had his eyes widening for a moment. Yes. Come on, Alicia. You can't stay in there forever. He thought. The commander took a seat close to her bed and held her hand in his.

He'd always heard of this one technique working to bring people back faster, or at least let them know for a little while that they weren't alone. Taylor had never done this kind of thing before. Had never once even entertained the notion. And yet despite his pride, this was something he knew had to do. For her. Because he couldn't be there for her then; but he was here now.

"You remember back in 2133 when we nearly got ran over by a mudslide on our way to ambush the enemy?" he grinned at the next thought. "You'd pulled me against the wall so fast I hit my head off the rocks. I remember being disoriented for a moment but kept moving when the slide past." he looked back at their joined hands. "I needed you then, like so many other times. And I need you now, Wash."

That was all he was able to permit himself to say. At least for now.

Another twitch.

Hope fluttered through his chest like a butterfly dead set on bursting out of him. It was something he knew he shouldn't grip a hold of, not now; but he did. He defied his better judgement and clutched onto his hope with an iron grip. Despite every bell, every warning in him that was soldier telling him to let go, he wouldn't. Couldn't.

Because hope was all he had.

Hope was what would get him and his people through this.

Hope is what would bring her back to him.