Author's Note: Okay so I started this after seeing 2x06, and had it MOSTLY finished before seeing 2x07 last night (WHICH RIPPED ME TO SHREDS BY THE WAY). I've got most of Chapter 2 done as well so be sure to follow for a quick update! PLEASE review to let me know what you think!
The hinges creaked as the industrial door moved, opening ever so slightly, just enough for Flynn to poke his head out. The apprehension written across his face disappeared the moment he saw it was Lucy who had disturbed his solitude. He would be lying if he said he hadn't worried that one of the other annoyingly peppy team members had come looking for him. With a lecture, perhaps, or a new assignment, he wasn't sure which he dreaded more just now. All he had wanted was to lay down on his overly uncomfortable cot and relax for the first time in days. For the first time, actually, since he and Lucy had shared a few beers, silently, while watching TV together. What an oddly normal experience that had been, in the middle of all of this.
But Lucy... He didn't mind if she disturbed him as much. He had meant what he'd said. Reading that journal, it had felt like he had gotten to know her, like she was a friend, and if he was being honest with himself... Garcia Flynn couldn't say that he didn't have deeper feelings than that for the small fireball, who was currently holding that quoted bottle of vodka beneath her chin, looking up at him, half teasingly, half pleading for him to let her in. Who was he to say no? Besides, a stuff drink might do him some good just about now. He stepped back enough to let her pass him by and smiled as he inhaled that subtle scent of lavender, wafting off her hair as she moved past him. The door closed behind her, and for a moment, Flynn felt a sudden sense of nervousness, not unlike a schoolboy, spending time alone with his first crush. The moment was gone the moment Lucy plopped herself on his for like she belonged there and took a deep swig of the clear liquid without flinching once. That's my girl.
She held the bottle out to him and gestured for him to join her. Unfortunately he couldn't claim not to since as the rush of cheap booze hit the back of his throat.
"Gah. How do you drink that straight?" She giggled and Flynn had a sudden thought that perhaps she was already drunk.
"Not sure. I can't do it with any other booze. I look a mess when I try to shoot tequila or rum, whiskey especially, but the first time I had vodka... Maybe we're meant to be, vodka and me." Flynn smiled. She had written that down in the journal. It had even gotten stuck in his head, somewhere in 1873 after he'd had reread that entry a few to many times, like getting just one verse of a song stuck in your head, over and over, maybe we're meant to be, vodka and me.
"Perhaps." Flynn took another swig and passed the bottle back.
"God these rooms are depressing." Lucy said, surveying the drab surroundings.
"They're all right."
"They're what?" She asked teasingly. "All right? Compared to what, a hovel?"
"Compared to a lot of the places we stayed in while we escaped."
"Your... your wife? And daughter?"
"No. Lorena and Iris, they came later. Besides, she had a way of making me blind to the imperfections around us." He took the bottle back from Lucy. "Not unlike you, actually."
"Is that a compliment, Garcia Flynn."
"Yes. Are you surprised?"
"To be compared to the wife you would defy the laws of time for, yeah. A bit."
"I don't mean... This isn't me flirting with you, Lucy." He said, flushing slightly. "Just... a compliment. You don't see yourself that way, and I thought it high time someone pointed it out to you." The silence that filled the air wasn't awkward, or uncomfortable, more of a companionable, mutual... thing. Lucy shook her head. Garcia Flynn was a confusing man. And as much as she tried to deny it, there might have been something to his claims that he knew her better than she knew herself. It alarmed her sometimes, the way he reacted to her comments or actions, like he had been expecting them, like they'd known each other for forever.
"So the hovels." Lucy said, retreating to a safe topic of discussion. "What hell holes made this dump look like a palace? I mean we all probably have gotten tetanus from this ancient, rusting pile of sheet metal."
"It's a bunker made of steel that is several inches thick. It could survive a nuclear holocaust, you can hardly call it sheet metal."
"I can call it whatever I like when the rust and grime that has attached itself over the years is getting on all my cool vintage clothes that are both authentic and yet not in any way disintegrated by time thanks to Mason's fancy... car... thing."
"Are you drunk?" Flynn asked with a smile. "How much of this did you drink before you came in here?"
"None! I'm not drunk." Lucy said, emphasizing her point by taking another drink.
"You just called a time machine a 'fancy car thing'."
"You knew what I meant!" Flynn chuckled a bit to himself but nodded.
"Some... I worked with a team, when I was a spy for the NSA. We were betrayed. One of them turned on the rest of us, and we were caught by the men we were attempting to infiltrate. We watched as our brother in arms walked away with a bag of cash as we were locked up in a dungeon that makes this look place look like... well maybe not a palace, but a reasonably priced hotel." Lucy laughed, and passed him the bottle. "Of course then we also watched as he was shot in the back before he made it out the door. There was only one thing they hated more than a spy. A traitor. And besides. It had been a lot of money."
"But you escaped." He nodded.
"It took weeks. And even longer to get back to a place where we could contact our handlers. We stayed in... abandoned homes, chicken coops, an actual hole in the ground once."
"I have so many questions right now." Lucy said with a grin.
"It's not nearly so interesting as it sounds."
"I highly doubt that. I mean come on. Did you dig the hole? Did you just find a hole? How big was the hole? How many of you had to fit in it? Was it like a cave?" She gasped dramatically. "Did you have to cuddle?"
"Okay, Nellie Bly,"
"See, I know you meant that as an admonishment, but I take Nellie Bly as a compliment." She said proudly. Flynn smirked a bit more. Of course she had. That was his entire purpose in saying it in the first place.
"So are we going to talk about it?"
"About the hole you lived in?"
"Slept in. For one night, and no. I mean the reason you showed up at my door with this horrible, horrible vodka."
"Agent Christopher wouldn't buy the good stuff when I asked."
"We can pick up something better on our next trip. See if taking it through a time machine has the same effect as letting it sit in a nice cellar. It'll be like a scientific experiment." Lucy laughed.
"Deal."
"You keep trying to change the subject. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want. You don't have to avoid it in the hopes that I'll forget. If you say you don't want to discuss it, I'll drop it." Lucy was silent, her lips pursed, as she stared off at the far wall. "If you do want to talk about it, however," Flynn dropped off for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I'm here for you, Lucy."
"Why?"
"Sorry?"
"Why are you here for me? You were so intent on killing us all before, but if you knew we were all going to be friends-"
"I don't know about friends. I get the feeling that the wonder twins in the other room would kill me as soon as work with me if they got the chance."
"And me? Are we friends?" Flynn looked down at the bottle in his hand, peeling at the label.
"I like to think we will be."
"And what about future Lucy? What does she think?"
"She's not quite that explicit, to be honest. Likes to leave me guessing sometimes."
"On purpose? Or because she doesn't know you'll be reading it one day?"
"She knows. But you already knew that. First entry. It's addressed to me."
"My mom handed me the empty journal only a few days after you showed me the finished one."
"It's not finished." Flynn said with a shrug.
"Well you've got it, so it's not as if I'm going to be writing any more." Flynn shrugged again.
"What does that mean? That shrug?"
"You told me you wanted it back one day, when you handed it to me. You said I should keep it safe for you, because you planned on finishing that final entry."
"What's the entry?"
"Private." He said immediately. "It's... it's private."
"It's my journal." She said indignantly.
"It's... not yet. If I tell you your thoughts now, you'll never know if you really had them or if it's just something that got put in your head. I want you to come to it on your own."
"So you're just going to leave me in the dark, then?"
"You like the dark. Because it's peaceful, and calm."
"Oh yeah, I wrote that a few weeks ago." His eyebrows rose.
"You did? So then..."
"So then what?"
"So then you've already written about Salem?"
"Of course, that happened weeks ago!"
"You might have written it after the fact."
"Hang on, if you read all about our adventures, don't you know where we're going next? Can't we... prepare?"
"You don't write about all of them. And they're out of order. There are references of things that haven't happened yet in the entry about San Antonio. And... you don't write it for a while. There are other things you write before then. And... it changes sometimes. When I take it with me on the mothership, it doesn't, even when it's wrong. Something will happen, and change the past, or the future, or... our reality, I guess, where the past and the future are far more ambiguous, and what you've written isn't accurate. Once I left it behind on mistake and when I got back to it, one of my favorite entries... it was gone." He looked sad then. "Didn't happen anymore, I guess. Or maybe you just didn't write about it."
"So this journal..."
"It isn't set in stone. There's an entry early on about a trip to Paris, 1832."
"July Revolution?" He nodded.
"I was supposed to have led you there but... It would have been a hit to Rittenhouse. A hard hit, to have taken them out there. But... the cost was too high. So I... I didn't go. And as such, you lot didn't follow me, and... well it was worth it so far, but a lot of things are different in the journal now. All for the better."
"What cost?"
"A life."
"Whose? You never cared about messing with history before, why would you-"
"Not history. Wyatt." Lucy gasped.
"Wyatt would have..."
"Yes. And it would have hurt you. To a point that made you vulnerable to Rittenhouse. You didn't want any of it, but you didn't have someone to keep you strong after the loss, and Rufus was equally a mess so you couldn't lean on him. His death, and how you viewed it..." Flynn kept trailing off, as if he wasnt entirely sure what exactly he could say, or perhaps should say. "I couldn't do that to you. So I... I let it go, I guess."
"To... to protect Wyatt?"
"To protect you. From Rittenhouse. You didn't deserve what they did to you in that reality. So I just... I left the journal in my room and went to track down Emma instead. Fat lot of good that did all of us. Damn sleeper agent." He took a deep swig.
"It's not your fault, Flynn." Lucy told him earnestly, reaching out to put her hand on his arm comfortingly. "You're just one person, with a sometimes inaccurate journal. You can't put the weight of the world on yourself."
"Says the girl who does exactly that every time Rittenhouse does... literally anything."
"It's different, Flynn. It's my family, doing this. Because I couldn't stop them. Because I killed a soldier and let them save my great grandfather."
"It wasn't your fault either, Lucy. You were doing the best you could in the circumstances. None of this is your fault, and you're the only one who blames yourself."
"That's because Rufus and Jiya are too nice to blame anyone else, and Wyatt feels so guilty about his wife coming back to think meanly of me even when it's well deserved. And Agent Christopher, and Mason... they don't really get what it's like, in the field, and their memory is reset when we change something, which makes it hard for them to pin any of us or our actions down. Maybe Mason will start to get it, but... They're too soft on us all. No one blames anyone else, even when theatres blame to be had."
"Rufus and Jiya are perfectly capable of blaming other people, believe you me." Flynn interjected dryly. "Wyatt's inability to blame you has less to do with his wife's reappearance and more to do with the fact that you aren't to blame, Lucy. You are not your family. Their choices are not yours." He could tell she wasn't giving any credence to his words so he took her hands in his, and held her gaze, speaking intently. "Remember when we went back and found that pilot boy, and I wanted to kill him and you wouldn't let me. And you said that just because his father was Rittenhouse didn't make the son evil, and that the choices other's had forced on him weren't his fault, and you gave him a second chance. Because despite his family, despite actual proof staring you in the face that he was going to do terrible, terrible things, you still believed in him, and you still believed that despite the awful things, he was good, and that none of it was his fault. Lucy I am staring at overwhelming evidence that above all else, you are good. You are good Lucy Preston. And I won't let anyone, not even you, take that away from you. You only see the mistakes, and failures, you don't see how much you've done in the face of all impossibility. You are the hero the world needed to champion this fight against an unseen monster, and its a fight that is hundreds of times harder for you than the rest of us because that is your family, Lucy. And that's not something to be ashamed of, it is something that shows how strong your convictions are, how strong you are. Stop blaming yourself. Not because no one else blames you, but because you aren't to blame."
There were tears in Lucy's eyes as Flynn spoke and the sudden rush of emotion in them both made the air a bit uneasy between them.
"That was... quite the rousing speech. Though you make a good point about Rufus and Jiya." Lucy said, sniffing back her tears and forcing a smile. "They really don't like you."
"I know I do. And honestly, I think you underestimate Agent Christopher. Mason... I'll give you that one, actually. But he's so drunk half the time these days it's likely not advisable to use him as your compass needle."
"Just because he's drunk? We're drunk and I think we're still brilliant."
"We are brilliant. Obviously. Which is why you should listen to me when I say stop blaming yourself, because quite honestly, it's making you sound less brilliant. And God knows that'll make for some dull reading later this week." Lucy laughed at that, and Flynn was far too proud of being the cause of her laughter.
"Do I always write about the trips? Or-"
"You write about all kinds of things. You mom. Your sister. The trips. Your team. Other... stuff."
"What other stuff?"
"Just... other stuff."
"Yes, thank you for the clarification."
"It's... private."
"God I can't wait til I write more so I know what has you so... meh."
"Meh. Very eloquent."
"Says the 'other stuff' guy."
"Other stuff is better than, meh." On the last word, Flynn had screwed up his face, and done a horrible American accent, to emphasize his point, that set Lucy into a gale of laughter. Watching her doubled over in giggles, Flynn couldn't help but join in, the pair of them laughing far more than the situation called for.
"I can! I swear!"
"You're drunk."
"And I can still do it!"
"There's no way."
"I'll prove it to you!"
"You're going to do it, now?!"
"You don't believe I can!"
"And because someone doesn't think you can, you're going to go out of your way to what, prove them wrong? Actually no. That makes a lot of sense, and explains a great deal about you as a person. Let's go then." The pair of them snuck out into the hallway, Flynn right on Lucy's heels as they attempted to quietly sneak into the kitchen. Tipsy as they were, Flynn and Lucy were struggling with the 'quiet' aspect of their mission. They were halfway trough the living room when Lucy suddenly halted, causing Flynn to run straight into her. They gripped at each other to keep from falling, and dissolved into silent laughter. Once they had settled a bit, Lucy pointed to the couch, where Rufus curled up, sleeping fitfully. She put her finger to her lips and shushed Flynn, much to his amusement. They tiptoed the rest of the way, Flynn's hand still resting on Lucy's hips where they had fallen halfway through tripping over her. They made it without waking Rufus and Flynn closed the thick door behind them.
"Okay then. Show me. Fill up an upside down wine glass." Lucy grinned and went to the counter where Agent Christopher had left an open bottle of red earlier that evening. she popped it open and grabbed everything else she needed.
"You'll drink it with me, when I prove you wrong."
"Not off the floor I won't." Flynn rebutted. I won't drink a thing that's been on the floor of this, hovel, did you call it?"
"Oh ye of little faith. When I fill up an upside down wine glass, you will drink it with me, and then..." Lucy trailed off, her eyes narrowed, trying to think of a punishment fitting of his disbelief in her. "You'll owe me a dare."
"What?"
"To be cashed in when I wish. I get to dare you and you have to do it."
"And when you spill this wine all over the floor, or give up because even you are incapable of defying basic physics, then you'll owe me a dare."
"Deal." Lucy pulled a plate out of the cupboard and grabbed a small candle from the drawer beside the fridge. Christopher had said they were in case they lost power but, honestly, if they had lost power, Rufus and Jiya and Mason would have figured out a way to produce power with... a bike or something, Lucy figured. Or whatever we had around. This was more important than that possibility. She lit the candle and dripped a bit of wax on the plate, before securing the candle atop the melted wax, in essence, pasting it to the plastic plate. She poured the wine on the plate around the candle and carefully set the glass, upside down, atop the candle. Flynn looked at her smugly as Lucy stepped back, letting science do it's thing. The look dropped ever so slightly as the wine started to slide into the glass. As Flynn's grin fell, Lucy's grew. Soon enough, all the wine was in the glass, the plate dry. She flipped the glass, removing the plate, candle still lit and stuck to the plastic. Mockingly, Lucy blew the candle out and smirked at him.
"Huh."
"You were saying?"
"Well that's... you..." Flynn sighed. "Fine. Defy gravity. Whatever. God knows you can do everything else." Lucy passed the glass to Flynn before pouring one of her own, properly this time.
"To me being able to do everything." She proposed the toast with a grin. Flynn smiled and touched his glass to hers before taking a sip. He frowned.
"God, that's horrible."
Lucy wrinkled her nose. "It really is bad wine, isn't it?" They dissolved into a fit of laughter again. Lucy looked up at the tall Croatian man holding her steady.
"What?" He asked at her decided gaze.
"I don't think I've ever laughed this much in one night."
"Of course you have."
"No. I don't think I have." She smiled at him softly then. "Thanks, Flynn. I needed this. Tonight's been fun."
"Garcia."
"Sorry?"
"You can call me Garcia if you like. Not that I mind Flynn. Sometimes when you write you call me Garcia. Not when you're irate, then it's Flynn, or bastard, or him, written with a decided slant."
"I've never called you a bastard!"
"You will. More than once." Much to Lucy's surprise, he grinned at that. As if it were an inside joke. And very suddenly she wished she could share in the joke. She wanted to get to know him better, to be... as close as he thought they were.
"Forget future Lucy. I've decided for us."
"Decided what?"
"We're friends. You and me, Flynn, we're friends."
"Just like that?"
"I'm very intransigent. Once I make up my mind, that's about all there is to it, so don't try to convince me to change my mind."
"Leave it to plastered Lucy to use a word like intransigent."
"I like words."
"So do I. But I wouldn't call you intransigent."
"Oh?"
"No. Bullheaded maybe..."
"Bullheaded. Yes that's much better!"
"Adamant, then."
"Adamant, huh?"
"Determined."
"That's better."
"Opinionated."
"I don't hate that."
"Pertinacious." Lucy smiled up at him, her eyes grinning as much as she was.
"Pertinacious. That's..." She exhaled. "Actually that's kind of sexy."
"Yes. Yes it is." And then his lips were on hers. Or was it the other way around? Lucy didn't know, all she could think about was how sweet his lips tasted, and the way her body fit comfortably against his warmth. God was he warm. And... and soft. But firm. He was solid. Like an anchor in the storm. Steady. Solid.
"Garcia." She murmured, trying his first name out on her tongue. She didn't hate it. Flynn... it suited him. But there was something both exotic and familiar about Garcia that fit this moment exactly. "Garcia." She murmured again, her hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him tightly to her as they kissed. He moaned into her lips, his arms reaching around her, wrapping her small frame up in his embrace.
"Lucy." Her name was muffled by their kiss but the sound of it shot a sort of electricity across her skin. She leaned into him, relishing in the friction between them. If that wasn't a metaphor for their relationship, she didn't know what was. His hands ran up and down her sides, lighting her skin on fire. With every caress. With every touch. She pulled at his tee shirt, trying to life it over his head. He stepped back a bit, clenching his jaw and wrapping his fingers in the fabric of her flannel. "Lucy." He repeated her name through clenched teeth.
"What?" She whispered back, her voice rasping with a need she couldn't explain.
"I... We shouldn't."
"Why not? Does future Lucy not write about us?" He didn't answer her, his eyes pressed as tightly shut as his jaw. "Huh. So she does write about us?"
"Not at first. Not in the first journal. There were... hints, maybe. Messages that could mean different things. Maybe... it wasn't explicit."
"And then?"
"And then... Lucy this isn't where, when we... the first time..."
"Tell me."
"I'm not supposed to tell you too much."
"Says who?"
"You."
"Well right now, me is saying to take off your damn shirt, and come to bed with me." He groaned and rested his head against hers.
"Why do you have to be so..."
"Persuasive?"
"Kissable." He growled, melting into her once more, crashing his lips urgently against hers. She pulled herself into him, and she found herself being walked backwards until she was pressed tightly between his body and the cold metal of the refrigerator. She moaned against his lips, and once again, found herself reaching for someone who had stepped away, fists clenched with a grimace on his face.
"What now?" Lucy whined. She didn't know why it felt so desperate to have Flynn here and now, she just knew that she was desperate. And that she needed him. Here. Now.
"I... I don't want to loose..." He sputtered before Luxy cut him off.
"Garcia Flynn. I will make a deal with you. If you fuck me senseless right here and now, we can take a picture of those pages, leave them in the lifeboat, and I'll reenact them with you when we get to wherever and whenever it's supposed to happen." Having watched his eyes carefully which she spoke, Lucy was quite certain that it was less her promise to him, and more her use of the word fuck.
"Not here." He finally said. She groaned.
"Flynn."
"I said not here." He said, reaching for her. With a sudden flourish that left Lucy breathless, he swept her up, and held her tightly against his chest, guiding her legs around his hips before carrying her out of the kitchen. They quietly passed Rufus where he tossed anxiously on the couch. Flynn's arms didn't waver or flinch as he carried her down the hall and into his room, nor did his eyes leave hers, staring into her very soul, or so she felt as he walked. The heat inside her was only building and she couldn't help but feel anxious herself, waiting for him, wanting him. Desperately.
Once they had entered the room, he pushed the door shut with his foot, and walked purposefully to his cot.
Flynn bit his tongue to keep from ruining the moment by lamenting the situation, telling her she deserved more, a real bed, for one, and a far more romantic lead up but he knew it was too much too fast. She had just gotten around to deciding they were friends, and deciding she wanted him. Her emotions weren't as involved yet, and if he showed her how engaged his own were he would scare her off far too much. His mind flashed to the ring he had stashed in the mothership, after he and Lucy had gone (would go?) to the meet Michelangelo and wondered if it was still there, or if Emma or someone else in Rittenhouse had discovered it and removed it. But he shouldn't think on that now. Right now, Lucy was in his arms, wanting him, and God did he want her. It wasn't his first time with her, but it would be her first time with him. As confusing as that thought was, he was pleased to know that it gave him a leg up. He knew what made her squirm, what made her cry out that delicious noise he loved so much, and he knew what made her... well.
It wasn't really cheating. After all, she had done the same to him and gloated afterwards the first time he had... he smirked. It was his turn now.
He set her down on the cot and stripped his shirt off, before climbing atop her, covering her body with his. His lips sought out the spot on her neck that made her squirm, and laved his tongue over it, before sucking and nipping at it deeply. He relished in that familiar groan as she arched her back, pressing her body against his. Her hands dug into his back and it was all he could do not to collapse on top of her.
"Garcia," She moaned out. "God, yes!" Her hips slotted themselves against his and she shuddered, feeling his arousal pressed against her heat.
"Ti si lijepa." He murmured against her neck as his hips thrust against her. "Želim te." Lucy's fingers grasped for her buttons, and made a rushed effort to get her shirt off. Flynn smirked. She always had liked when he'd spoken Croatian to her. Always would like... oh God he had to get out of his head before he was distracted by the proper grammar from this beautiful woman on her back below him. And damn it all to hell was she beautiful. He helped her rid herself of her clothing, her shirt flung across the room, her jeans following quickly in their wake. He inhaled a little too sharply as he looked down at her, her breasts swelling out of the soft cups of her brassier, the way the thin scar on her hip drew the eye down her side right to where it disappeared beneath her dark colored panties. "Nebo mi pomaže." He muttered to himself.
"Don't stop." She whispered to him.
"Nikada, draga moja." He replied thickly as Lucy pulled at the waistline of his pants. Her hand reached in and Flynn saw white as she wrapped her fingers around him.
Their lips plunged together and they kissed like the world was on fire around them, all the while squirming and tossing about, trying to move their bodies, limbs still slightly drunk on the vodka, wine, and emotions, into position. One of his hands reached down between them, and he pressed his thumb against her slit. Her whole body jolted forward and a keening cry rang out, echoing around the room. Lucy pushed back against his fingers and Flynn felt her wetness dripping onto his fingertips. He explored her gently, relishing in her keening noises. God he loved making her scream. And moan. Any noises she made at all, actually, drove him to the brink of madness. The thought of being overheard occurred to him for one worrying moment... until Lucy thrust forward, her lips swallowing his fingers just as her lips found his and distracted him thoroughly.
"Lucy." Flynn groaned out her name softly, very other word eluding him just then.
"I need you inside me, Garcia." She whispered in his ear, the want reverberating around the syllables, driving him mad.
"Not yet," he returned in his clipped tone, shifting his body down, lower, lower. Flynn's face caressed the swell of her stomach, and he inhaled, getting drunk on her. He nipped her skin and relished in her slight hiss and the exhale of pleasure which followed. Flynn's stubble grazed her skin as he pressed his face into her.
"God, yes!" She cried out as his fingers gripped into her thighs. He wasn't going to waste anymore time. With a quick tug, her black cotton panties were around her ankles and his face was positioned exactly where he liked it best. Within moments, her words had dissolved into sounds that were far less oratorical as Flynn's tongue dove into Lucy. She shivered against him and moaned out as he lapped at that familiar and heady taste.
"Draga moja." He muttered against her lips, pulling her legs over his shoulders.
"Please!" Lucy begged, her hands clutching at the thin sheets beneath her. Garcia wasn't one to disappoint. Within minutes she was falling apart beneath him. Flynn licked her off his lips and picked his head up, grinning at her panting form.
"Holy shit." She breathed out, panting. Her lungs were on fire. The good kind of fire. "That was... holy shit."
"Was? My darling, I'm not even close to getting started, let alone being done."