Burgundy & Blue
Lucy can't breathe.
The jostling of the Lifeboat finally ceases and she rips the seatbelt away from her chest, stumbling to the door before it even has time to finish sliding open. Her shaking hand slips on the cold metal of the stair railing before finding purchase and she hurries down before her legs can give out, which they do the instant she reaches the concrete floor of the bunker. Her ears are ringing, all the voices around her distant and unintelligible as she kneels and tries desperately to stop hyperventilating. Somewhere in the back of her mind she can hear the concern in their voices, feel Wyatt's hand gently rest against her shoulder, but all she can hear, all she has been able to hear since they departed 1888, is the ringing left in the immediate wake of the gunshot.
Bile rises in the back of her throat and she chokes it back. She looks around the bunker, disoriented, eyes focused on nothing and utterly confused until she turns to look at Wyatt kneeling beside her and then Rufus standing over them. The concern on their faces is enough to undo her, and she finally lets out deep, shuddering sigh, slumps forward as all the strength leaves her body and she is quickly caught by Wyatt. She doesn't protest, doesn't acknowledge him at all. She's desperately holding back the sob that's fighting to escape. She knows if it does, she won't be able to stop.
Garcia Flynn is dead.
The confidence and hope they'd felt in the wake of saving Rufus now feels like a bitter joke, and perhaps they'd let their guards down because of it. They'd gone back to save Jiya, risks be damned, knowing any one of their trips could be the one she'd seen in visions for weeks prior to her kidnapping, knowing Rufus could be killed at any moment, because he refused to value his own life over the happiness of the woman he loved. And they'd all shared Jiya's relief as Rufus's would-be killer collapsed to the floor, two bullets to the chest from a Colt .45 enough to render the vision nothing more than a bad dream.
But they should have known. Time has a way of correcting course, no matter how much you try to deviate from it.
"Where is Flynn?" Denise asks as she rounds the center console, and it's then that she finally sees the mess on Lucy's skirt, the bloody handprint on her cheek. She looks to all of their faces in turn and the shell shocked expressions there, and it dawns on her.
They are all lost for words, despite their relatively antagonistic relationship with the terrorist-turned-ally. There are several moments of tense silence, until Rufus finally says, "Flynn-"
That's all he gets out before Lucy pulls away from Wyatt and gets to her feet in one quick motion, rushing away from her team with a palm held tightly against her mouth. They let her leave, no one moving to follow. She and Flynn had grown close over the past few months, that much was obvious to any of them, but none could say exactly how close the pair were. The nature of their relationship remained a mystery that neither Flynn nor Lucy had ever been inclined to elaborate on. Most had assumed that they had become, at the very least, close friends - and yet, the strength of Lucy's reaction painted a very different picture.
Denise turns back to face the group, her expression now grim. "Where is he now?"
"We didn't have time," Wyatt says, his voice low and quiet, eyes trained on the floor. He still hasn't stood up from where he was kneeling to comfort Lucy. "We had to leave him behind. She held him while...while he..." Despite his long held animosity toward Flynn, he finds he can't finish the sentence.
Celebrations can wait. Every second they waste in the bar gives Emma and Jessica that much more time to escape. Wyatt and Flynn take point, pistols in hand, leading them up the stairs and out into the cold San Francisco night. They're standing near the entrance as Lucy is the last to emerge, both scanning the crowd to spot their Rittenhouse targets. But the urgency has left all of their faces - with Rufus and Jiya both safe, which was the ultimate goal of this trip, no one feels particularly inclined to hunt for the needle in the haystack that would be tracking Emma at this point. Flynn's eyes meet Lucy's and they share a small, tired smile. Despite the aloof front he puts on with most of the team - Lucy being the notable exception - he is clearly just as relieved as they that Rufus is seemingly safe and sound.
And then the shot goes off.
The smile fades from his face as quickly as Lucy's does, replaced by a look of confusion as he stumbles back a step. He drops his gaze down to his chest where blood is quickly spreading through the fabric of his suit and touches a hand to his heart, to the small hole there, his fingers coming away red. He stares at this a moment, as if he struggling to make sense of it, and then looks back at Lucy as he stumbles again and his legs give out.
Lucy rushes forward as Flynn slumps to the ground. His breath is coming in short gasps, a small line of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. Lucy presses her hands to the wound as firm as she can, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind it's a useless gesture. Emma's aim was impeccable, a clean shot, and it would take medical care from the present for him to have a snowball's chance in hell of surviving the wound.
"No no no, Flynn, please..." she whispers, frantic as her hands do little to stop the bleeding. She looks over her shoulder and shouts, "Go get help!" at her team, all of them seemingly too stunned to move. Or perhaps they've also realized what she already did - there's nothing they can do.
Flynn is watching her with clear eyes despite his shaking and coughing and he reaches his bloodied and trembling hand toward hers, but his failing strength only gets him halfway. She lets go of the wound with one hand to grasp his instead and presses his palm to her cheek.
"Please Flynn, hang on, please!"
His confused expression fades into one of calm and he licks his lips in that way that is so utterly and painfully Flynn, opens his mouth slightly as if to speak. Lucy nods, urging him to say what it is he's struggling to get out. She finally lets go of the wound and uses her free hand to pull him against her chest as best she can. Her grip on his hand tightens even as his own loosens, and she watches as his eyes struggle to focus on hers before his gaze finally softens and he goes still.
It only occurs to her much later that the ringing in her ears is from her own voice, yelling in horror, in rage, in burning grief as Wyatt and Rufus try to pull her away from Flynn. "Lucy, we need to go," she hears Wyatt urge, and she knows he's right, knows that despite Emma having fled long ago, she won't have left her escape route unguarded and there are no doubt Rittenhouse agents heading their way now, to say nothing of the local police. And yet she can't let go of Flynn, heavy in her bloodied lap, his limp hand still grasped tightly in hers. They tug on her arms and she resists their grasp until Wyatt finally reaches his arms around her waist and lifts her bodily away. She pounds her fists on his arms in an attempt to make him let go, but he is relentless as he drags her back.
"No! We can't leave him, we can't-"
"Lucy, we have no time," she hears in her ear, Wyatt's voice gentle and quiet as he simply holds her in place, waiting for her to calm. "We need to go."
She finally stops fighting and he lets go, and she starts to follow Wyatt before pausing "Wait, just...wait a second," she says to Wyatt, turning to rush back to Flynn's side. She lifts his left hand carefully to slip the ring off his finger, trying to ignore how cold to the touch he is already. Wyatt, to his credit, waits behind her, wanting to urge her on but giving her this one last moment. Ring clasped tightly in her fist, she brushes the hair from Flynn's forehead with her other hand and pauses to take in his face for the last time, then stands, turns, and lets Wyatt lead her through the crowd, her body very much moving on autopilot. She looks over her shoulder to Flynn's prone form, now rapidly drawing a crowd of horrified onlookers, and doesn't look away until she can no longer see him.
It's hours later that Lucy finally lifts her head from her arms and looks around her room, opting to stay in her position seated against the cold metal wall. She feels numb, in every sense of the word.
The bunker is near silent, everyone having retired to their own rooms shortly after arriving back in the present. Normally there would be a flurry of activity as dinner was prepared and they discussed any changes their mission to the past had affected on the current timeline, but this evening no one feels particularly sociable, and for good reason. Lucy opens the door to her room and glances out into the common area. It's empty for once, thankfully, and she leaves her room, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She pauses a moment, then wanders slowly to Flynn's room.
The silence in his room is somehow more deafening. She half expects to see him sitting there in the worn leather chair in the corner, a book in his lap and a gentle smile on his face as he looks up at her. But the chair is empty, the room is empty, and his absence is cutting into her like a knife.
She sits on the edge of the bed and rests her hands on the worn wool blanket, absently smoothing out the wrinkles with her palms. After a moment, she turns and lays down facing the wall. The pillow still smells of him, the sharp scent of his aftershave pulling her right back to 1888, to his face as he slipped away.
Finally, she can't hold back the tears anymore. She presses both hands to her face as she breaks down, her sobbing quiet so as not to draw attention. She can't stand their faces as they look at her, not right now, those expressions of both pity and bewilderment that she'd be so distraught over the loss of the man who started this whole mess only a year previous.
For weeks she's had an internal struggle, trying to decipher her own feelings about Flynn. It was true that he'd become her closest confidant in the past few months, the first person she turned to when she needed to talk, or even just someone to sit in silence with while they both read, with only occasional glances up at the other to share a smile. Flynn knew exactly when to give her space and when she needed a push. Flynn knew her.
She isn't sure how long she lays there, breathing in what's left of his scent and committing it to memory, knowing it's only a matter of time before that too will be gone. How long before his face begins to fade from memory? How long before she forgets the deep timbre of his voice as they spent hours talking through the night about everything Rittenhouse had taken from them? His quiet laugh as he would recount memories of Iris and her tendency to play pranks like her mother that he would pretend to be surprised by (5 year olds not being masters of subtlety), or of Lorena and her utter inability to cook a damn thing, how he'd have to take over for her almost every night once she started swearing at the stove. Each memory that Flynn shared with Lucy seemed to lower his walls more and more, and she would find herself wondering if this Flynn, his face soft and bemused, his voice quiet and warm, was the real him, before he lost everything and was left a hollow shell with a singular purpose. And Lucy would in turn share with him memories of Amy, a spitfire who forced Lucy out of her comfort zone time and again; of her mother, so brilliant and kind before Rittenhouse stole her away; of Henry Wallace, the only loving father she'd ever known.
Eventually she slides a hand into her pocket and retrieves the wedding band, turning it over in her fingers, lost in thought. She's still contemplating the ring when she hears it - the telltale sound of the Lifeboat snapping back into the present, followed shortly by the booming sound of metal slamming into metal. In seconds she's on her feet and heading toward the launch area, as are the rest of the team, and she briefly catches Wyatt's eye as she leaves Flynn's room. He says nothing, knows that for once he's better off leaving it alone. They all converge near the blast door and are stunned to find a second Lifeboat near the first, the crashing sound they heard clearly the pods hitting each other as the aim on the landing was just slightly off. They glance at each other in the ensuing silence, stunned, their faces quickly turning back as the second pod's door opens. The silence stretches on painfully as Wyatt and Lucy, both looking worse for wear, emerge and stare down at them, eyes lingering briefly on their past selves before moving to scan the rest of the crowd.
"Well...what are you waiting on?" Lucy's alternate self says, staring down at her with an eyebrow raised. "You guys want to get Flynn back or what?"