The linen closet was cold, dark, and extremely small: three of Lucy Preston's least favorite things.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been trapped here since her concept of time had turned rather fluid after the Rittenhouse breach. Worse yet, she had no idea what had happened to the rest of her team. There had been no public broadcasts, no demands for Lucy's life in exchange for theirs, and no one getting on the PA and pleading for Lucy to turn herself in. At the moment, all she could do was hope her friends were still alive and trust that Wyatt's plan was going to work.

She and Wyatt had started off together but then Wyatt had opted to serve as a distraction so Lucy could get to safety. She'd objected of course but he'd refused to listen.

Which left her alone in the linen closet in the basement, the gun he'd given her sitting on the ground below her knees. Not for the first time, she prayed she wouldn't have to use it. Not again.

As if on cue, the unwanted memories of 1861 came flashing back—James clutching at his chest before collapsing; Bass disarming Wyatt who was still wearing that stunned expression, both confused and disapproving; the harsh judgement on Bass' face when he'd looked back up at her—and the already small closet shrank another few inches in size.

Lucy's heart picked up its already quick pace while her breaths turned shorter and choppier. She fumbled with the bulletproof vest, trying to free her burning ribcage and get some much needed air into her lungs. Spots were dancing in front of her eyes and Lucy knew she wasn't far from passing out when she heard the door in the outer room bang open.

In that instant, the world shifted into hyper-clarity. Somehow able to breathe again, Lucy scrambled for the gun and pressed back against the wall so she had space to steady the grip on her knee. Her hands still shook slightly, making her wonder if she'd be able to actually hit anything, but she quickly pushed that thought away and aimed the gun at the door to the linen closet.

She wasn't going with Rittenhouse to play out her "destiny". Not without a fight.

30 minutes earlier…

The New Years' Eve party at Mason Industries was in full swing by 8 p.m. Employees and their families milled about the bottom two floors, some dancing in a hangar that had been cleared of all its classified content while others feasted on the elaborately catered dinner Mason provided. This year Connor had gone all out to combat the falling stock prices and investigations the company had been put through. He too was at the party and was personally assuring everyone he passed that last six months had been nothing but a small speed bump in his five year plan.

"The future is bright!" he'd promised yet again before raising his glass in a toast.

Four people, though, weren't celebrating. They were huddled in a conference room on the other side of the floor, learning about a Rittenhouse plot to abduct Lucy.

"When?" Wyatt asked as he silently cursed the fact that he'd listened to Christopher and left his shoulder holster at home. There's more than enough security, she had said, handing him a thick pile of workups, just come and relax for once. After vetting the security guards himself and checking the additional security measures, Wyatt had reluctantly agreed. To her credit, the party had been going remarkably well, living up to every story Rufus and Jiya had been telling for the last month, until Christopher had texted him, Lucy and Rufus to meet her here.

"We don't know," the Homeland Agent now replied. Then she glanced at her phone, as if hoping it would chirp with the answer. To no one's surprise though, it remained silent.

"How credible is your intel?"

"Very."

Wyatt turned to check on Lucy, who was sitting in a swivel chair with her knees tucked up to her chin, expression blank, breathing regular, and eyes clear. She was either going into shock or completely desensitized to the news she'd just received; Wyatt wasn't sure which one he'd prefer.

He had just opened his mouth to begin planning how she'd be staying with one of them, how she wouldn't go anywhere unaccompanied, and how they'd get through this together, when the power cut out.

Wyatt was at Lucy's side in an instant, his senses on high alert as he tried to discern an impending threat. His fingers dug grooves into the back of her chair and he was ready to move them both at the slightest provocation. "I don't suppose that's because of the music?" he ground out.

There was a flurry of noises from Rufus' direction before his face was illuminated by his phone's screen. "No idea. But the emergency power should be coming back on soon."

Sure enough, the yellow back-up lights flickered on not long after, allowing Wyatt to see Lucy's pale face, eyes wide in fear. "We won't let them get you," he vowed, which earned him a watery smile from the historian.

Before she could reply though, footsteps thundered down the hallway and Wyatt heard the sound of a slide being ratcheted. He looked left to see Christopher training her service weapon at the door; she obviously hadn't taken her own advice.

Christopher had just stepped in front of the three of them when the person in the hallway began shouting for everyone to remain calm, that they'd just blown a fuse and that would be back up and running in no time.

And Wyatt relaxed—slightly. Apparently, even Mason with all his money and influence wasn't immune to the occasional power outage.

"And there we go," Rufus said, "Just a normal, everyday—"

He was interrupted by an earsplitting shriek coming from the direction of the dance floor that quickly grew in force as more voices chimed in.

Wyatt had pulled Lucy to her feet almost before he realized it. "We have to get you out of here," he stated as he heard a muffled crash, then more shouts.

"Rufus too," Christopher interjected. "They may be looking for another pilot." She reached down then pulled out an ankle gun before handing Wyatt her main service weapon.

The soldier accepted immediately, feeling vastly more comfortable with the weight of the gun in his hands. "You should come with us, ma'am," he said as he stepped toward the door.

He pressed his ear against the doorjamb but didn't hear any approaching footfalls. "Lucy, Rufus, stay behind me. On three—"

"I'm not leaving Jiya."

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder to find Rufus standing a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest for emphasis.

"Rufus, you don't have a choice."

The pilot just set his jaw. "I do. I'm not leaving without her."

Wyatt was about to object again when Christopher spoke up. "I'll take Rufus back to the main area and he'll rendezvous with you at the safe house once they're both out of here."

"Ma'am, I really think you should—"

Christopher's lips pressed together in a bloodless facsimile of a smile. "You know I can't do that. Michelle is out there."

Despite how much he wanted to, Wyatt instinctively knew he wasn't going to change their minds. He nodded and turned to look at Lucy. "We'll go on three okay? Stay as close as you can behind me."

She returned his nod, then turned to Rufus. "Be careful okay?"

"No hero-in-a-hoodie stuff," Wyatt couldn't help but add. "Get Jiya and Michelle and get out."

"You don't have to worry about that," Rufus said, stepping into place behind Christopher, who stood with Wyatt by the door, her ankle gun held at the ready.

Wyatt waited until he received a nod from Christopher before he popped open the door. The two shot out into the hallway, cleared it, then motioned for Rufus and Lucy to follow them.

Lucy and Wyatt peeled off to the right, heading for the exits in the back of the building, while Rufus and Christopher went left, back toward the party.

"Do you have service?" Wyatt asked as they hurried down the hall.

Lucy pulled her phone from her pocket, barely catching it as it slid through her shaking fingers. "No," she said, once she'd managed to power on the screen.

"Then they're jamming us. We'll try a landline."

Lucy could do nothing but nod in response. Then she slipped her phone back in the pocket of her skirt and returned her focus to not tripping in her heels, which hadn't been designed with silent running in mind.

The two had just reached the far end of the hallway when they heard a spray of gunfire. The historian immediately spun around and headed back the way they'd come. "We have to go back for them," she said as she picked up her pace.

"Lucy," Wyatt hissed, sprinting around her and grabbing her upper arm. "We can't. We have to keep moving."

Lucy just dug in her heels, keeping Wyatt from tugging her away from her friends, who were in danger because of her. "We can't let them kill our friends."

Keep moving, Wyatt's training screamed, but he knew they weren't going to be able to get away quietly if Lucy was this resistant. So, he too stopped and turned back so he could look her in the eye. "Christopher is on it, so is the massive security detail she hired. They'll be okay. But right now, we need to get you out of here. We can't let Rittenhouse get to you."

"But Wyatt—"

"I don't like it any more than you do but we don't know what could happen in the past or future if Rittenhouse gets you. It's not a chance we can take."

It took her a painfully long minute, during which Wyatt was aware of every click of the heater, every creak of the floor, the screams from the other side of the building, before Lucy spoke up. "Fine. But we need to find an office first, to call for help."

"Already on it."

Unfortunately this corner of Mason Industries housed the labs that required badge swipes and fingerprint scans for entrance. Wyatt and Lucy didn't even try to open those, instead heading for the exit just around the corner. Though the exit door was in sight, Lucy stayed behind Wyatt, having seen enough movies to know it might be rigged somehow. She would defer to Wyatt's expertise to determine whether it was a valid exit option.

The soldier motioned for Lucy to stay back then crept forward in a half-crouch. Just shy of the door, he stopped and carefully examined it. It was a non-emergency exit, which meant there would be no alarm to give away their position of they could in fact get out, and there didn't appear to be any trip wires. Wyatt then pressed himself against the wall and popped the push bar with a quick backward slap of his hand. The bar depressed but the door didn't move at all. Wyatt gave it a beat, then pushed away from the wall and kicked at the bar. He continued with the motion so he ended up on the far side of the door.

Despite his efforts, the door still hadn't budged.

Wyatt didn't seem concerned and just motioned for Lucy to follow him as he began to walk along the wall in a crouched position.

Despite the fact Lucy was in dress shoes, it didn't take her long to catch up to him. "Where are we going?" she whispered once she was an arm's length away.

"Since the exits are out, we need weapons—well, more weapons," he amended as he hefted Christopher's Glock.

It was then that Lucy realized Wyatt wasn't carrying any guns of his own. "You didn't bring your gun?"

"I was told not to," Wyatt retorted as he whipped around a corner, cleared it, then crept forward. "Not that it does us a lot of good, but there's a backup in my truck."

"Does Mason even have any guns around here?"

"No, but Christopher does. There's a safe in her office. Combination is the birthdays of her wife and kids."

Lucy didn't have time to wonder how Wyatt knew that. "So we get up to the third floor, get you another gun, then what?"

"Get you down to the basement."

Before Lucy could respond, they'd arrived at a stairwell. Wyatt threw himself against the wall and waved for Lucy to do the same. He then did the same maneuver he'd done with the exit but this time, the door easily swung open. Even though there was no gunfire and no Rittenhouse agent throwing himself through the doorway, Wyatt waited an achingly long moment before leading the way into the staircase.

He crept up the steps slowly, swinging his gun between the second floor landing and the door they just came through, while Lucy hovered as close as she could to him in order to be out of the line of fire.

Fortunately, they reached the third floor without running into any trouble. Wyatt again motioned for her to stay back while he cleared the hallway before they proceeded to Christopher's office.

Once inside, Lucy headed straight for the desk phone.

"Line's dead," she reported when she heard only silence on the other end.

The soldier didn't even look up from the dial of the in-wall safe hidden in a fake drawer. "It was worth a shot."

Then Wyatt was standing beside her again, pressing a gun into her hand. She recoiled, memories of the Jesse James' corpse, the blood spurting from the surprisingly large hole in his chest as he collapsed. It was on her hands, her dress, despite her attempts to wash them off. She was standing in the MI locker room, steam rising from the sink as she scrubbed and scrubbed—

Vaguely Lucy heard someone speaking—a voice she recognized—but it took her a long time to hone in on it. When she refocused, Wyatt was staring at her. His face pinched with concern even in the low emergency lighting. "You back with me?"

Not trusting her throat to produce sounds, Lucy just nodded.

Wyatt looked back down at the gun, which was still resting in her upturned hand. "I'm sorry Luce," he said, resting his hand on top of the gun, his fingers just brushing her palm, "but if we get separated, I need to know you can protect yourself."

Lucy swallowed hard, channeled her inner voice of reason, then slowly wrapped her fingers around the grip of the gun. The metal was uncomfortably heavy in her hand and if she hadn't known better, she could have sworn it was hot to the touch.

Wyatt watched her for another moment before stepping back, slinging on a shoulder holster, quickly adjusting it, then filling it with two guns. He then proceeded to stuff his pockets full of spare magazines.

"You still with me?" he asked, head tilting back over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Lucy replied softly as she rearranged the gun in her grip and pointed it at the ground like Wyatt had taught her to, what seemed like ages ago.

"The only staircase to the elevator is on the east side of the building, through the employee quarters. It requires an access card, so once we get there, they'll know where we are, assuming they aren't already locked into the camera feeds. But the basement is big, dark and there's lots of places to hide. It's our best chance until we get free or help comes."

"How do you know all that?" Lucy couldn't help but ask. Up until ten minutes ago, she hadn't even been aware MI had a basement level, let alone that Christopher had a safe in her office full of weapons.

Wyatt smiled ruefully. "Part of my job is having contingencies for every situation. In case you're wondering," he continued as he popped open Christopher's office door, cleared the hallway by oscillating back and forth with the gun held out and ready, then tilted his head to the left, "the best way out of your apartment is the second floor fire escape to the alley, instead of going out through the kitchen." He was speaking softer now, as if worried someone would overhear. "Should save you about two minutes. Give or take."

Lucy just stared at him as it hadn't even occurred to her that that was a part of his job. "Wyatt, I—"

Then he froze, holding up a closed fist. Lucy had seen enough movies to know that meant stop. A split second later, Wyatt straightened up and fired twice.

The next thing Lucy knew, she was staring at the ground, hands clapped around her ears, which were physically aching. Realizing she'd turned away from the gunshot, she looked back to see a man in full tactical gear sprawled on the ground, blood welling beneath his leg.

Wyatt, thankfully not visibly harmed, was kicking the goon's gun away before bending down and…searching him?

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sounding thick and muffled around a slight ringing in her ears.

"Getting you a vest," Wyatt huffed as he tossed a large knife and another gun out of the man's reach. He looked at the man's combat boots then at Lucy's feet before adding, "And a pair of shoes."

Lucy looked down at her strappy heels then leaned against the wall so she could kick them off. A moment later, the combat boots slid to a stop next to her.

"They're probably too big," Wyatt was saying as he sheathed the knife and clipped it to the waistband of his khakis, "but if you lace them all the way up and pull them tight at least you'll stay in them."

Lucy nodded as she slid her feet into the shoes. Wyatt had been right about the size but after she yanked long and hard on the laces, they no longer felt like they were going to slide off her feet. She had to put the safety on her gun and slide it in her pocket in order to actually tie the laces though.

"These too."

Lucy looked up to see Wyatt holding out a helmet and bulletproof vest. She nodded again then slid the helmet onto her head. She tried to do the strap but her fingers refused to cooperate. She eventually gave up in favor of the vest. It went on was much easier, though it was much heavier than she had expected and wasn't helping the already tight vice around her rib cage.

Wyatt leaned in and buckled the helmet, then adjusted one of the Velcro straps to the vest. The vice loosed slightly and Lucy exhaled in a fleeting sense of relief.

"Thanks," she said and received a quick nod in response.

"You ready?" Wyatt had just asked before they both heard a horde of footsteps pounding down the hallway toward them.

"Cover your ears," the soldier ordered, waiting only a split second before firing six times. There were four separate crackling sounds, which Lucy belatedly realized were the hallway cameras.

Then Wyatt's hands were on her shoulders, pulling her hands away from her ears. She looked up to find his face inches from hers. "Get down to the basement," he instructed, shoving a rectangular card into her left hand and the gun from her skirt back into her right. "Find someplace small, someplace hard to get to."

He was leaving her. "No, Wyatt!"

"We don't have a choice. I'll lead them away from you, spread them out, then I'll come find you."

Hot tears, which she'd been so carefully hiding up until this point, were threatening to spill down her face. Amy, maybe Christopher and Rufus, and now Wyatt? She firmly believed in all the good she could do as a professor and even now as a historian, but she wasn't self-absorbed enough to think she was worth of all this. "Wyatt, you can't…"

His hands were on the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him. "I. Will. Find. You," he promised, staring directly into her eyes. "I swear."

A door banged open on the other end of the hallway, causing his gaze to flit away for a split second.

"We'll use a code word. Green for 'good', blue for 'bad'. If you hear 'blue', you stay hidden no matter what happens."

"Wyatt—"

He was focused on her again, his expression unreadable. "Tell me the color for good."

"Green," she forced herself to say in lieu of the rest of her protest.

"Right." Wyatt brushed his thumb along her cheek before he released her. "You need to go," he then stated, pushing her toward the stairwell door at the end of the hallway. "Now!"

Her feet were moving down the hallway without her brain or heart's consent. "Be careful," she pleaded before she got too far out of range.

"Yes, ma'am," was the last thing she heard before the stairwell door banged closed behind her.

Happy New Year, Timeless fandom! I realize I'm almost two months late but I hope you enjoy the NYE story anyway.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought (and how excited you all are for the premiere on March 11th)!