Nope surprisingly enough this is not another Lyatt fic. I have more in the works, but while I am 99% Lyatt trash, I am 1% Flemma trash as well so here is that 1%. Enjoy the lovely ride of Flemma through season 1 and 2.

"I'm not your enemy." Like hell this man wasn't an enemy, she thought. For Emma, there was no other kind of person. In her childhood home, in her dorm halls at Cal Tech, and now here in 1883 enemies were all she knew. All she had ever known.

"I'm from the same place you are." She had to admit that was an intriguing, but he couldn't possibly mean what she wished he meant.

"I have a ship I'll take you to it." She nearly lost her breath at the stranger's words. It couldn't be, could it? Had Rittenhouse finally come back for her? Part of her hoped that wasn't the case. The society that had left her alone in a cabin in the woods of the Old West had seemed like an appealing gig way back when she was a scared-of-the-world, freshly graduated girl who was still too haunted by her past. Rittenhouse offered her a chance at control for the first time in her life, and not just control over her own life, but control over everything. But now after all she had seen, she realized she wasn't in control. Not even a little bit. Rittenhouse controlled her in more ways than her father ever had, and they had ways to destroy her that made her father's beatings seem like a rough pat on the shoulder. She hoped it wasn't them.

She steeled herself behind the length of her shotgun and as the man came out from their cover with his hands raised in surrender, what looked to be a diary clutched in his hand, she made her presence known. Something about him didn't fit 1880's men, something she couldn't quite place her finger on, but from a first glance, she knew he wasn't lying about being from where she was. But that didn't by any means make him a friend.

"Just want to talk," he called, hands still up in peace. "Alone." Before she had a chance to respond or just shoot, another man came out from behind the trees, making Emma's hands tense around her gun. She would've known him by his picture even back in 2016, but there wasn't a soul alive here who didn't see his face on a "WANTED" poster daily. Jesse James. What the hell would a Rittenhouse want with the outlaw? But still neither seemed eager to pick a fight. The men's bickering gave Emma time to consider her options. Kill this man right here and now, not have to worry about him turning into an enemy later. Maybe also collect some good reward money for a dead Jesse James. But in that she risked what knowledge the stranger might be able to provide. Or she could give him the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't usually her style. Shoot first, ask questions later was how she had managed to survive this long, but there was something about this man…

The man and Jesse James seem to reach a compromise, and he began to approach her, slowly. Something about him, whether it was his boldness or some ineffable quality, caused her to lower her gun. What did she have to lose?

And if he wasn't who he said he was… she could always just shoot him in the back.

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