A/N My first attempt at FF, for what it's worth. This is what happens when the-network-that-shall-not-be-named strings me along for over a month and then cancels the only show I watch.
Disclaimer: If I owned Timeless, I wouldn't be making up stories to fill the void in my heart where Season 3+ should be.
Rufus reluctantly unfastened his safety harness as the Lifeboat shuddered to a halt. It had been a hell of a night, and unfortunately it wasn't over yet. If Agent Christopher didn't tear him a new one for helping Wyatt steal the time machine, Jiya most definitely would. But at least he'd get to sleep in his own bed tonight for a change. Probably. Maybe. Assuming they didn't throw him in a jail cell. How had he let Wyatt talk him into this again?
Turning in his seat, Rufus eyed the man in question. "Ready to face the firing squad?"
Wyatt winced, panting from the overwhelming vertigo that always accompanied time travel. "Uh…just give me a minute, OK?" Physical distress aside, he needed that minute to collect his thoughts, and to prepare for what was to come.
For five years, Wyatt's life had consisted of little but whisky, work, and trying to solve his wife's murder. What would life be like for him now that he and Rufus had rewritten history, now that Jessica was alive again?
Though he might be half insane (war and grief did that to a person, and he'd had more than his fair share of both in his relatively short lifetime), Wyatt wasn't foolish enough to think that it would all be smooth sailing from here on out. Best case, he'd probably need some counseling to learn how to be a decent husband again. Worst case, he'd be court-martialed, and spend the rest of his life behind bars for stealing top-secret government property. But while he didn't relish either prospect, he'd gladly bear whatever was required of him. His wife was alive again, and what could possibly be worse than the years of abject misery that he'd already endured without her?
On that thought, Wyatt scrambled from his seat. "Let's do this, Rufus."
Rufus flipped the necessary switch, and watched with trepidation as the Lifeboat door slid open. He knew what was coming — had known since before they'd embarked on their little joyride to 1983. Still, he didn't look forward to seeing his friend hauled off like a common criminal. Nor did he welcome the likelihood of having to continue to chase that psycho Flynn through time without Wyatt at his back, but that at least was a problem for another day.
Wyatt nodded solemnly and clapped Rufus on the shoulder, unable to put into words his gratitude for everything that the man had done for him. Then, taking one last fortifying breath, he stepped out onto the tarmac, hands already raised in surrender. His fervent hope was that, if he went peaceably, the powers-that-be would at least let him see Jessica once before they tossed him in jail.
As expected, Agent Christopher and Conor Mason were waiting for Wyatt at the end of the platform. But much to his surprise, neither of them looked the slightest bit angry. In fact, Wyatt realized, they looked extremely relieved — excited even — to see him.
This was not at all what he or Rufus had anticipated. Where was the rage, the condemnation? For that matter, where were the armed guards? Wyatt scanned the hangar, but saw no sign of anyone other than the usual Mason Industries staff.
"You made it! We were beginning to get worried. The Mothership landed over three hours ago. Was there a problem? Other than Garcia Flynn getting away again? Did you at least figure out what he was after this time?" Agent Christopher rushed Wyatt, regaling him with all of the usual post-mission questions.
Baffled, Wyatt looked over his shoulder to Rufus. His teammate merely shrugged, equally puzzled by the ostensible normalcy to which they'd returned.
"And what's with the hands, Master Sergeant?" Gesturing to his still-raised arms, Agent Christopher eyed him quizzically "Expecting an ambush?"
"Well, Lucy's 'welcome back' hugs can be a bit enthusiastic," Mason quipped as he approached the team. Chuckling, he gave Wyatt a comparatively mild 'welcome back' hug of his own, and then proceeded to do the same with Rufus.
Lucy. Wyatt and Rufus exchanged a knowing glance. This must be her doing. She was supposed to just buy them some time to steal the Lifeboat without getting caught, but it seemed that she had bought them something far more precious.
Feeling ashamed (and yes, heartbroken, though he wasn't going to touch that feeling with a ten-foot pole) over the callous way that he'd treated Lucy the night before, Wyatt wondered what, exactly, she had told Agent Christopher about this so-called 'mission' that he and Rufus had undertaken. Whatever it was, he owed his friend big-time for saving his worthless hide (again).
'Friend'…were he and Lucy still friends? Probably not, to her way of thinking. After all, he'd basically told her (as he'd been telling himself for months) that she meant nothing to him — that everything, including her, was worth sacrificing if it meant that he'd get Jessica back. He'd reduced Lucy to tears, purposely ignoring her obvious (mutual) need for comfort, and then still had had the nerve to ask her to help him steal the time machine to bring back his dead wife. Yeah, Wyatt was a 'grade A douche nozzle', to quote Rufus. Lucy would undoubtedly be far better off without his particular brand of 'friendship'.
"Well, don't just stand there. Go get cleaned up and changed. Debriefing in my office in fifteen." Agent Christopher patted the two time travelers on the back, and then turned her attention to her cellphone, which had just begun to buzz with an incoming call.
Neither man needed to be told twice. Recognizing the agent's dismissal for the miraculous reprieve that it was, Rufus and Wyatt immediately dashed towards the locker room.
"Hold up, Master Sergeant," Agent Christopher called after them.
"Ma'am?" Wyatt glanced back at her, slowing his pace.
"Call your wife ASAP." She commanded, pointing to her own phone to indicate that that's who that last call had been from. "That's an order."
"Sure thing, ma'am." He grinned, fighting back the tears stinging at the backs of his eyes. They'd really done it. Against all odds, he and Rufus had brought Jessica back.
As soon as their superior was out of earshot, Rufus tugged Wyatt to a halt. "Dude," he squealed, "We stole a time machine, saved your wife's life, and got away with it! We are so totally Han Solo and Chewbacca right now!"
"Easy there, Chewbacca," Wyatt teased his nerdy friend. "We still have a debriefing to get through, for a 'mission' we know nothing about. Call Lucy and find out what she told Christopher. I need to check on Jessica." Leaving Rufus to take care of business (he didn't have the courage to talk to Lucy yet himself), Wyatt headed for his locker.
"Right, good thinking," Rufus called after him. "You call your wife, and I'll call…. Wait a minute, why am I Chewbacca?"
Wyatt yanked open the locker door, and snatched up his cellphone, more than eager to hear Jessica's voice again. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, he'd had trouble remembering the sound of it lately. Time was a dirty rotten thief (it had absolutely nothing to do with spending so much time in the company of a certain historian), stealing bits and pieces of his wife's memory from him with each passing day. But he was about to remedy that once and for all.
He scrolled through his contacts in search of Jessica's number, not trusting the one that he knew by heart to still be in service. Sure, he'd circumvented her murder, so logically the number should still be the same. But Wyatt knew all too well how fickle time travel could be. More often than not, even when they managed to preserve the 'big picture', the team came home to minor changes, like altered phone numbers, or clothes that they didn't remember owning stowed in their lockers. Hadn't Wyatt spent hours (all night) talking (hugging) Lucy down from a panic attack just last week over the possibility of an all-new (fake) fiancé after she'd discovered a different engagement ring in her locker than the one (that douchebag) Noah had given her? Of course, if she'd taken his (totally disinterested) advice and broken off her 'engagement' months ago, the whole (cuddling on Wyatt's living room couch) situation could have been avoided.
Not finding an entry for Jessica in his contacts, Wyatt searched again under possible nicknames. No reason to panic — most of his friends were listed under nicknames, after all. And sure enough, there she was: 'Love of My Life'. Wyatt clicked the call button, and paced anxiously back and forth in front of his locker as he waited for Jessica to answer.
One ring, two, three….
Wide-eyed and looking rather alarmed, Rufus suddenly rushed to Wyatt's side, waving his own cellphone at his friend. "Wyatt! Dude, don't call…."
Wyatt held up a single finger, signaling the man to wait, as the call was finally picked up on the other end of the line.
"Wyatt, where the hell have you been? I've been calling and calling! Didn't Agent Christopher give you my message?" The intimately familiar sound of her voice, now raised in obvious anger, blasted Wyatt full-force. "My water broke 20 minutes ago, and the contractions are three minutes apart. Jiya's driving me to the hospital now, so you're going to have to meet us there. Please hurry. I don't want to do this by myself, Wyatt."
Stunned beyond speech, and unable to process any of what she was saying, Wyatt held the phone, hand trembling, away from his ear.
Rufus snatched Wyatt's phone mid-air as it tumbled towards the concrete floor. "Don't worry," he spoke into the receiver. "I'll get him there in time. Yeah, no problem. Just…just focus on getting through the contractions, and tell Jiya to text me the room number, OK? Will do. OK. Really, it's no problem. Yep, see you soon." He ended the call, and handed the phone back to Wyatt, studying his friend with concern.
"That was…," Wyatt trailed off, staring down at his phone as if it were a snake that had already bitten him once and that might soon again if he wasn't careful.
"Lucy," Rufus confirmed soberly. "AKA 'your wife'."