In this fic, Flynn is a member of team good. My first Timeless story so, you know, comment and like and stuff. See ya
Nebraska, United States, 1942
The streets were more full of life than Wyatt had imagined they would be. People were rushing through the shops, greeting people with short "Hello's" and the occasional "Howdy". Cars made their way down the street, emitting engine noises so loud Wyatt found it hard not to recoil from them. His stomach was still turning from the trip thereHe was focused on a peculiar couple in flamboyant dress when someone slammed into his shoulder,
"Hey!" He said automatically in defense. When he turned to see who had bumped into him, all he saw was a flash of brown eyes before the person seemed to disappear.
Heads bobbed in front of him, the mixture of colors overloading his senses. Wyatt stood, perplexed, checking his pants to make sure his wallet and other belongings were still there. His eyes were scanning the crowd for whoever had bumped into him when he noticed a magazine at his feet that wasn't there before. The pages were wrinkled and dirty, but looked fresh enough that it appeared nobody had stepped on it. He picked it up and resumed looking, eventually spotting the pair of brown eyes. It was a girl-at least he assumed it was. She was standing on a milk carton at the corner with her nose, mouth, and hair all concealed by a dark blue scarf. Her eyes were scanning the street, her small head just barely popping up above the crowd. She was wearing a floral dress that reached her calves, the hem flowing carelessly in the rough winds. She seemed to be waiting for something, her fingers tapping her thigh anxiously. Her eyes wandered the streets until they met Wyatt's and her body went still. He opened his mouth to say something when she jumped down and sprinted away from him.
"Weird," Wyatt murmured to himself. He looked down at the crumpled magazine in his hands. The pages were folded back, leaving it open to an advertisement page. The ad was for a yellow car: A brand new 1942 Pontiac Streamliner, a unique looking car that he had seen driving around a few times since he'd arrived with the team. It wasn't until then that he heard Lucy's faint voice behind him.
"What?" Wyatt asked, his mind completely lost in thought. He tucked the magazine into his pocket and approached Lucy, Rufus, and Flynn who were discussing their plan of action. Emma had taken the mothership here, somewhere in the area. The specifics were minimal and unhelpful at most,
"Hotels," Lucy said louder, "It's getting late, I said we should look at places she could be staying for the night," Wyatt grunted in agreement and trailed off as Flynn suggested places to look. He had been focusing on a homeless man across the street when he heard the engine of a car getting louder and louder. Too loud. He turned his body around to see a familiar yellow car just feet away and fast approaching.
People say that time slows down in near death situations. Wyatt, however, could not say he agreed with this statement. Everything happened so fast-simultaneously even. The yelling, the flash of color, the pain…
There was so much commotion that he didn't know what to focus on first. He decided to focus on the most peculiar thing in his sight: the view of a girl running toward him.
More specifically, the view of her leaping and pushing him out of the way.
Before he could process anything, he went from standing in front of a shop window to being tackled to the ground. The two crashed to the sidewalk, rolling a few feet before landing painfully on the cement.
Wyatt's vision was dizzy and his senses were all off. He heard shouts, screams, and the peculiar sound of rushing water. It wasn't until he shook his head clear that he realized the car had hit a fire hydrant, causing it to spew water like a geyser.
He did a quick check of his limbs, assuring nothing was broken. He was lifting himself off the ground when he heard a low groan near him-well, more like below him. He looked down to see the same scarfed girl he had seen earlier. The girl's forehead was dripping with blood from a wound just above her eyebrow. Her eyes were closed, clinched in pain. Wyatt hadn't even noticed that he had landed on top of her, the weight of his body most likely breaking a few of her ribs. He was painfully attempting to lift himself up when something stopped him. He examined what he could see of the girl's face: she didn't look like she was much older than 15-maybe 16 at most. Her features were dark and her cheeks were spotted with freckles. Her eyebrows were dark and bushy and pieces of curly dark brown hair escaped from her scarf. Wyatt reached out then, wanting to pull her scarf back to see more of her face, curiosity getting the best of him. Before he could reach her face, however, her eyes flew wide open. Wyatt's hand halted in the air-as still as a statue.
Her eyes were wide in surprise and Wyatt could swear he heard her take in a sharp breath. She searched his face, eventually bringing her hands up to push Wyatt off of her. Wyatt would have been more than happy to oblige if it wasn't for what he saw in her eyes: A pair of color contact lenses, thin and plastic. Wyatt was no historian, but was highly confident that contacts like the ones resting in her eyes were far too modern for the times. In fact, he was positive that color contacts weren't invented until the early 1980's.
40 years from now.
Wyatt was lost in thought and barely noticed the girl squirming under him, attempting to get away. She was almost able to come to a standing position when all of the pieces clicked together in Wyatt's head. His hand shot out, catching her forearm in his strong grasp. She yelped as he turned her to face him,
"Wyatt!" Lucy yelled from far away. He looked up to see her, Flynn, and Rufus, their path to him blocked by the car-which had gone through the shop window, right where he had been standing. The fire hydrant still spewed water while his three companions were helping a few citizens who had gotten hurt.
"Wyatt!" Lucy shouted again. Wyatt looked back down at the girl, writhing in his gasp.
"You knew," Wyatt practically whispered,"You knew about the car, that's why you dropped that magazine for me. You knew it would hit me, so you saved me…" The girl did nothing but struggle, trying tirelessly to break free from his grasp. He reached out to her scarf, she swiped his hand away fiercely, "And your eyes...who are you?" At that, she punched Wyatt in the face, breaking free and running toward the car. She leaped over the hood, dashing right past Flynn,
"Flynn!" Wyatt yelled, gaining his composure and starting after her, "Go after her!" Flynn didn't hesitate, following the girl down the alley. Wyatt told Lucy and Rufus to stay and help the wounded people as he followed Flynn, who followed the girl, down the alley.
The Alley was dark and dirty, black fire escapes cascading down the sides of the two buildings. The girl hadn't gotten very far, her hand was holding her head-perhaps to stop the bleeding-and her other hand was pressed against her abdomen, Wyatt now positive he had caused her to break her ribs. She supported herself against the brick, struggling to continue. Wyatt and Flynn were close now, no more than 10 feet away. The girl stopped then, collapsing against the wall,
"Hey," Wyatt called, the girl did nothing to acknowledge him, her head facing the ground, "We don't want to hurt you, just tell us how you knew about the accident," Again, she said nothing. Wyatt motioned to Flynn, the two men now surrounded her against the wall. Flynn crouched down to where she sat against the wall, her legs curled up into her chest. She seemed weak, scared even,
"What is your name?" Flynn asked with an air of interrogation. She said nothing, shifting her body ever so slightly. Flynn looked up at Wyatt. In that moment, the girl sprang up, pushing Wyatt out of the way. Flynn's reflexes were fast, catching her and pinning her to the wall with his forearm. The girl looped her arm around his, trapping both arms and pulling him forward, elbowing him in the face, and tripping him, sending him hurtling to the ground. Wyatt was ready to strike, yet stunned at her fighting abilities. Before she could turn to face Wyatt, he grabbed her around the waist, looping another arm around her shoulders. She kicked up off the ground, attempting to loosen his hold on her but he wouldn't budge. She kicked everywhere, eventually kicking the brick wall, sending them both hurtling back, but Wyatt's hold on her stayed firm.
Flynn stood, holding his hand to his most likely broken nose.
"Color me impressed," Flynn said, making his way to where Wyatt was still trying to subdue the still struggling girl.
"Calm. Down." Wyatt called through laboured breaths. After a few seconds, she stopped writhing, exhausted and in pain. Wyatt looked at Flynn with confusion, "Uhh thanks," Wyatt exhaled. Flynn examined her, her eyes glaring back at him. He took a step forward, causing her to emit a low growl, her legs swinging out to kick him. Flynn dodged it, eyes full of caution,
"We aren't trying to hurt you, just tell us who you are and where you come from," Wyatt said,
"And when," Flynn added. She stayed silent, eyes glaring and unmoving,
"Well, here's what we know. You're covering your face,meaning we must know you- or at least recognise you- or else you wouldn't bother," Wyatt said, "And you knew the accident was coming, and you tried to warn me. When I didn't move out of the path of the car, you pushed me out of the way. So," Wyatt's mouth pressed against her ear, "You must care about me,"
The girl responded by staying completely still, eyes fixed on the ground. When she said nothing, Wyatt continued,
"I also know you aren't from this time, your contacts give you away," As if just noticing, Flynn narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer,
"Those are color contacts," Flynn said, almost in awe, "Well, we know you didn't get those anywhere around here," He continued with content. The men were silent, awaiting any kind of response from her. To urge her into speaking, Wyatt squeezed around her abdomen, right where her injured ribs were. She yelped in pain,
"Tell us," Flynn said sharply. She inhaled and, with a crooked grin, lifted her head high,
"Regarde dans votre livre," She hissed before an object flew at the trio. A boy, not much older than the girl, practically materialized behind Flynn. He engaged Flynn, swiping his legs from under him as the girl stepped on Wyatt's foot, wiggling loose enough to go free. She was facing Flynn now who was in a crouching position on the ground. He swung a few times, she dodged each one. On his third left hook, he hit her in the jaw, sending her flying and bracing against the wall. She turned to face him when he grabbed the scarf and pulled it from her face.
He got a quick look at her pink lips, freckled face, and scarred neck. She was pretty, and a teenager-younger than he expected her to be. She gasped, eyes wide, as her companion grabbed her hand, pulling her after him.
The two sprinted down the alley, the boy shouldering most of her weight. Wyatt grunted and sat up, turning towards Flynn,
"Did you get a look at her face?" He asked. Flynn nodded,
"Yeah, just barely but enough," He wheezed through laboured breaths. The two were stunned into silence,
"You speak french?" Wyatt asked,
"Not at all," Flynn responded,
"Wonderful."