Again, this is based on leaked spoilers for the movie/finale. If you don't want to be spoiled, please do not proceed.

Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Timeless or the Ingrid Michaelson song (Drink You Gone) that the title is based on.

It's thirteen days before Wyatt sees Lucy smile again.

Not that she doesn't try before that, she's still Lucy so she still hates to burden anyone with her own pain. But the best she can manage isn't even a shadow of that weak, fake smile that he's only ever pretended to believe. It's so much worse than crying.

Since he's been here, in her place, he isn't surprised when the smile is immediately followed by a fresh rush of tears as soon as the memory hits her. His eyes sting as they track her retreat to Flynn's empty room. She'll curl up on his pillow, clutch an empty vodka bottle—none of them are sure what that's about—and stare off into space, just as she has every day they've not been on mission. It's only now, that Flynn is dead, that he realizes the truth of it.

Flynn had loved Lucy. Loved her better than Wyatt ever had—maybe not more, but better—because he had sacrificed for her in a way that Wyatt had never been able to. He'd given up his chance for revenge, his chance to get back his wife and child, all to give Lucy the future he thought she wanted. Maybe it's because she knew she would only get that future now at the cost of Flynn's life, but it's as plain as day to Wyatt as it must not have been to Flynn: Lucy doesn't want that future with Wyatt. She doesn't want him. Not anymore.

As much as that hurts, to know he's not what she wants, he knows it's no less than he deserves. This was partially his fault. If he hadn't deserted her when she'd needed him most, chosen Jessica, brought her to the bunker, Lucy wouldn't have gotten so close to Flynn. She wouldn't have needed to lean on him, because she would have had Wyatt. If it weren't for his poor decision-making, she'd have been spared several rounds of a broken heart.

He has to believe that, because he doesn't want to imagine that even in choosing Lucy, he might still have lost her.

As wrong as it sounds even in his head, he can't imagine not choosing Jessica, though, not with the information he'd had at the time. He could never have lived with himself. Oh, he should have been more careful about it, vetted her past fully, not brought her into the bunker without even getting permission first, for starters. Shouldn't have made Lucy have to listen to them…

Wyatt squeezes his eyes shut tight and shakes his head hard. His heart had been so ripped up at just the thought that maybe Lucy had slept with Flynn, while he'd been crushing hers every time he was alone with his wife. He can't even claim not to have known she could hear. That was intentional. Not for Lucy to hear, but he'd had to be loud to drown out any thoughts of her. Rufus had been stuck in the middle, and the others tried to understand, probably, but they didn't remember what had really happened, what the two of them had had before time changed. So of course Lucy had turned to Flynn. He'd given her such crap for it. Why? To himself, at least, he could admit that he'd known Flynn wouldn't hurt her. Any of the rest of them, maybe, but not her. That had been a lie he'd had to tell himself as much as her to justify his jealousy.

So why? Did he really need her to love him that much, even though he couldn't in return? Was he that selfish that he needed Lucy to want him so badly that she'd prefer being alone and heartbroken, pretending to grin and bear it, to attempting to move on and find solace in someone else? So what if the man was someone Wyatt hated, didn't she deserve to at least have a friend, anyone really, who was on her side? He doesn't like what the answers to those questions say about him.

Wyatt can't even blame Flynn for Jessica. It hurts, but…he'd considered it himself, after learning their baby was a lie, but he couldn't…he just couldn't. She wasn't his Jessica, a twisted version of the woman he'd once loved, but she still had her face and he could never just watch it happen. He still loved his Jessica when he was able to mentally separate the two. God, he hated Rittenhouse for that more than anything, for not even letting Wyatt keep his memories of her untainted. It would be easier to blame Flynn if he really believed he'd only made sure of it for himself or even for Lucy, but he'd done it for all of them—really, the world at large—in order to put Rittenhouse on the run, to keep them from the winning streak they'd been on.

What a bastard Flynn was, that he won't even let Wyatt comfortably hate him now that he's dead, couldn't just have been the psychotic dick they'd all initially thought he was. Because Wyatt did, he hated him, now more than ever. How dare he do this to Lucy, desert her like this, break her heart like this?

Of course, he'd done the same. Dammit. Even dead, even having abandoned her, he can pour salt into Wyatt's wounds. The guy who had been a sort-of terrorist, or…okay, not an actual terrorist. But still not, you know, a hero, which is what Lucy deserves.

Wyatt's not saying he thinks he's a hero, because he doesn't, not anymore. Part of him still wants to claim he's closer than Flynn, but this settles it. Because there's a not insignificant part of him that still wants to wait and see if Flynn was right, if Lucy can be happy with him. Feeling even a bit of hope at her pain is just the final proof that he does not love her selflessly enough, at least not yet.

An anguished whimper comes then from Flynn's room and his heart clenches. It's Lucy. He tries to ignore it, but he's used to a Lucy who chokes down her tears, who holds them back no matter what to keep from disturbing others. The thought of her so wrecked that she can't do that? No way is he going to leave her to that alone.

Wyatt taps lightly on the door but pushes it open gently when there's no reply. Lucy's lying on the bed, clutching a pillow to her like it's all that's holding her together. It's shocking to realize that she's sleeping. Sleeping, but not resting—she's crying in her sleep. That's why he could hear her. With no release during waking hours, it's coming out now that she can't stop it.

Aw, man, she's breaking his heart.

Cautiously, he walks to the bed, torn on what to do. Waking her doesn't seem right, even as she cries. She needs the sleep, but she also needs the tears. But he can't let her lie there grieving and feeling alone. By the smell, she'd been drinking alone, too. Though, she's clutching an empty vodka bottle and he smells whiskey. Hopefully she hasn't been mixing her alcohols. He reaches out a tentative hand and places it on her shoulder.

The change is subtle, but her breathing eases slightly. Wyatt eases back and there's no change. He looks around, examining the room he'd avoided like the plague. He's not sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this, with neat piles of books and music and old machinery tucked away in cubbyholes. The only messes were obviously Lucy's, and he isn't sure if they're from before or from now. It's eerie, this glimpse into who Flynn is, was.

It might be encroaching on her privacy, but he's not leaving her alone again right now. Taking a look at the beat-up armchair, he sighs and settles in. He's slept in worse. But there's something cutting into his side, so he shifts and pulls. It's a crumpled, smudged envelope with Lucy's name on it in neat, slanted script. A letter—THE letter.

Oh, hell, Wyatt doesn't want to see this.

The bits of explanation that Lucy had choked out to the group had been spotty and confusing at best. Connor and Agent Christopher had been able to glean more after combing through old news stories and finally had found a John Doe case from 2013 in a Maryland morgue that matched Flynn's description. Connor had theorized that staying so long in his own timeline, especially close to where his past self was, had been too much of a strain. The Jessica link was clear because somehow she was dead again, though Lucy did pipe up to insist Flynn hadn't killed her. None of them were sure what made her so sure, but Lucy was barely functional, much less conversational. It had only been through a half-drunk midnight chat with Jiya that she'd sobbed out the bit about Wyatt. Under normal circumstances, Jiya probably wouldn't have shared, and they might have left her to her privacy. But they'd left normal behind two years ago. Or at least, that's what Wyatt tells himself when he pulls out the pages to read.

Dear Lucy,

I'm so sorry. I know that this is going to hurt you. You know I never wanted to do that, but if I can spare you greater hurt, it's worth this lesser pain. I hope you trust me enough by now to believe that.

I'm leaving, taking the lifeboat to 2012 and I'll likely be dead and gone by the time you read this. Back in time, trying to fix some of this mess, trying to make it right by doing a couple of things you would never approve of and don't need on your conscience. Please leave it at that. (I should know better than to ask that of you. On the off-chance that you'll listen to me for once, please try, okay? Since I DO know you, though: I'm not doing it myself. I'm just making sure what was supposed to happen still does. That's bad enough, I know, but if it's that or Rittenhouse taking over the future, it's worth it.)

You're stronger than you know. I know you think you need me, need my shoulder to lean on, need my help with intel, but you don't. I've watched you develop from a fearful teacher into what you are now. That impressive woman I mentioned? She's you, Lucy. As for information, all you need is that genius brain of yours. If you need to, you know you can become that badass future version of you that climbed out of the lifeboat with Wyatt and the chia pet on his face. I hope you don't have to, after what I'm going to do, but I know you can and you will if necessary.

As for why now, when we've grown so close, well, you asked me in Chinatown why I was here. You already know, Lucy. I've been here for you.

The journal talks about what we become soon after this. We're already quite the team—I TOLD you so—but we become something more. To put it bluntly, we have a love affair, a passionate one, but it doesn't end well. You do care deeply for me, but—reading between the lines—your heart is never fully in it. There are certain regrets you still carry.

I'm selfish enough to want to be a fond memory instead of one of your regrets. I'd rather leave you with a heart that's maybe a little bruised but intact and still fully Wyatt's than to have us pull you in two. I won't do that to you.

Because, dammit, I told myself I wouldn't do this, but you've always been able to pull out of me what I want to hide, I don't know why I thought a letter would be different. Because I love you, Lucy.

God, I love you. I tried so hard not to. I tried to save Lorena and Iris and change everything before we could get to that point, but instead I just fell deeper into a black hole and lost myself in the process, doing worse and worse things and nothing worked. And then, you, well, YOU. I do believe God lead me to you, as you said that night in 1954. You weren't an answer to the question I was asking, but you were the answer I needed. You brought me back to myself, gave me back my soul. I go now with blood on my account, yes, but without murder in my heart, and that's because of you. Loving you wasn't fate, but it was inevitable, because how could I not love you? You granted me your trust and your friendship, and that has been the great privilege of my life. Thank you for that.

Please don't grieve for me. I don't ever want to cause you more pain than I already have. If this works, I won't.

Be safe. Be well. Be happy, Lucy.

You'll see me again, if you still decide to take the journal to younger me in 2014. You know the place.

Love, Garcia Flynn

Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. Wyatt isn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't a full-fledged love letter. He'd realized the man had loved her, but that he'd loved her like that? For how long? What is Wyatt supposed to do with it?

Flynn was wrong about one thing: Lucy's heart isn't fully Wyatt's, not now, and maybe it hadn't ever been. They'd been on their way, but their falling in love had been abruptly cut short. But…maybe part of her heart still is his? Is it a good thing if it is?

Was Flynn right about the rest? Wyatt honestly doesn't know, and there isn't any way to know other than time. He tucks the pages back into the envelope and lays it on the desk. His eyes move over to the cot in the dark. He's just going to have to wait. Hopefully Lucy won't break in the meantime.

Six months have passed since then, and it turns out Flynn was right.

And Flynn was wrong.

About a week after Wyatt had read the letter, Lucy had emerged from her lair, demanded they transfer locations to a new safe house, and thrown herself headfirst into the fight. Wyatt and Christopher have been taking it in turns to teach the whole team hand-to-hand combat ever since, Wyatt is teaching them all to shoot, and Connor and Rufus are teaching Lucy to pilot.

She's taken to all of it with an icy rage that almost frightened him, sleeping, eating and living only to fight. She is definitely capable. It most closely resembles how he'd been before he'd been recruited by Agent Christopher. Recalling his frustration with her at the time, now he just wants that doe-eyed, stubborn, history-preserving know-it-all back. There's no way to maintain that kind of single-mindedness for long without crashing and burning, and she does, of course.

No one has been able to find her since before dinner, and they always try to give each other space. But with the situation they're in, they search as soon as it gets dark and she isn't in any of the usual places. Wyatt finally finds her behind an unused barn, lying in the bed of an old rusted-out pickup that had been abandoned when the government had seized the compound they were in.

She's drunk. He's seen her tipsy before, but this is far beyond that. This is Lucy without a filter, without kindness or politeness, and he realizes he's never seen that from her. It's brutal.

Saying all the things she's been holding back ever since he'd left her to find Jessica, she lights into him like she wants to burn him to the ground. Starting with the fact that he was mid-conversation with her when he got the text from Jessica and should have said something, plowing through "You still chose her over us even knowing she was probably Rittenhouse—you didn't even warn us, didn't protect us" and not slowing down until she hits "Are you trying to say you loved me while I was lying there listening to you making love to her?"

It doesn't help matters that the answer to that is yes. She scoffs bitterly and retorts that love is more than feeling, more than words. And, God, she's right. The love he had for her he'd hidden, and his actions had been heartless. He still has no idea how to make it right.

After that night, after his apologies and her exhausted, resigned agreement that she will try to forgive him, something of their friendship is restored. Lucy's fine on missions, lectures on history like she used to and she is as empathetic and persuasive with everyone she encounters as always. She is kind and cheery with Connor, lets Denise mother her every now and then, and jokes with and supports Jiya and Rufus like she always has.

But.

That spark in her eye meeting someone she's always admired, that joy, it's gone, replaced by a focused goal-oriented burning desire to defeat Rittenhouse. Which he gets, he's the same, but…he misses it.

Wyatt misses her. Flynn was right, she is strong enough for the fight, surpassing any expectations the rest of them had had for her. But about everything else, he's starting to think Flynn was wrong, and she's never coming back from losing him.

About a year after that, Rittenhouse goes out with both a whimper and a bang.

Flynn had caused enough damage by changing the timeline and taking out the advantage Rittenhouse had by bringing Jessica back. As the time team continued to follow Emma into the past and dismantle her efforts at sledgehammering the hell out of history, Connor and Denise got busy in the present. One by one, they keep chipping away at the members of Rittenhouse, carefully and quietly. Until one day, the right combination of wins in the past and present come together and they suddenly have the advantage. They go on the offense as Emma runs out of sleepers. Then she runs out of goons. She runs out of funding, runs out of Rittenhouse, and now all she has is herself and the mothership.

They still don't dare underestimate her—Flynn had managed to do damage mostly by himself, after all—but they're better now, and they know exactly how much is at stake. The end is so close they can taste it. Emma finally tries to make multiple jumps to throw them off her tail before landing in the Northwest Territory of Canada in 1891. They anticipate this move, so they wait to see where she finally lands, and they follow, cringing the whole way. The late 19th century hasn't exactly been kind to them before.

It's déjà vu as they track through the snow on horses with an escort (a Mountie one, this time) and they make their way toward her cabin. It takes far less than expected to gain the upper hand. Emma had been expecting a little bit of a time cushion, thinking they would need to charge before following.

All of a sudden, she's in front of Wyatt, on her knees, begging for mercy. Silly him, he hesitates, loosens his grip on his gun and glances to Rufus. It's the wrong choice. She goes to pull out a small revolver and at point-blank range, he knows he's a goner.

Fortunately, neither Jiya nor Lucy shares his hang-up about shooting an (apparently) unarmed woman, not when it's Emma. The bang he's expecting comes, only there are two, and he's still standing. It's Emma who's falling with the life already gone from her eyes, blood flowing from the wounds in her chest and head.

It's over.

There's a moment of disbelief, where none of them dare to say it, then suddenly, Lucy's arms are around him, then Rufus's and Jiya's, and they're all laughing and crashing to the floor in a heap. George, the Mountie, just looks at them like they're insane and mutters something about a report. Lucy somehow smooths that over and it's such a blur that Wyatt honestly can't process any of it until the lifeboat lands back in the barn of their compound.

Apparently, the same can be said for Lucy.

Rufus and Jiya rush down the steps first, tripping and talking over each other as they gasp out what happened. Lucy and Wyatt both move down the steps in a daze. Connor's typing furiously into a computer, checking, as Rufus, Jiya, and Agent Christopher hover behind him, probably annoyingly close, but he doesn't seem to care as he finally stills and looks up.

"There's no trace left of them anywhere. There's no more Rittenhouse. It's over."

Next to him, Lucy freezes. "It's over?" She asks in a monotone.

"It's over," Connor repeats, grinning, as Jiya and Rufus embrace heartily.

"It's over," Lucy whispers, and then she collapses. She falls into sobs, the first he's seen since that night in the bunker when he'd read Flynn's letter. She's literally face down keening in the dirt, and Wyatt rushes to her, but she flings him off like his touch is physically painful, and for a moment he thinks maybe she's been injured. But then, Agent Christopher is there and Lucy lets her gather her up and place her head into her lap like she's a child, lets Rufus squeeze her shoulder and Jiya stroke her back.

He lets himself drop fully to sit on the ground as Rufus moves to join him, and they all end up just sitting there, stuck in shock and relief and grief for a long minute as they listen to Lucy wail. Rufus eventually puts a hand on Wyatt's shoulder and their eyes meet.

"Amy?" Rufus mouths silently. Henry Wallace had disappeared from time, as had his parents. Emma had done a thorough job at making sure Amy is gone for good.

Wyatt nods grimly. "Amy…and Flynn," he mouths back before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting a couple of his own tears slip out. He'd pretty much known that she wasn't picking him now, but that his touch is so obviously not the one she wants cements it.

It's technically a win, but it's the dictionary definition of a hollow victory.

Four months later, there's a knock on Wyatt's door in the middle of the night. He groans as he rolls over in his bed. Whoever it is won't go away and he finally gets up, ready to yell. It's Lucy.

Wincing at the smell of tequila that hits him before he even gets the door all the way open, he tugs her inside and leads her to his couch, half-carrying her as she stumbles. He squints at her in concern.

"Did you drive here?"

She shakes her head, staring down at the floor.

"Lucy?"

Before he even fully finishes saying her name, her mouth is on his. In his groggy state, with the years of longing for her and the love he still holds for her deep down, despite knowing they are never going to happen again, he kisses her back. Just for a beautiful moment he lets himself linger in, but then his brain catches up. The taste of tequila and the frantic desperation in the hands that are gripping him call him back to his senses and he withdraws.

There are tears on her face that she hastens to wipe away with her shaky fingers. Well, shit. He can't pretend that doesn't sting.

"I'm sorry, Wyatt, I'm so sorry," she sobs out and he holds her for a few minutes until she calms. Damn, he hurts, both for her and himself.

"I know it's been a while, but I didn't think I was that bad at it," he tries to joke, get them back to some sort of solid ground.

She lets out a strangled choke of an attempt at a laugh. "It's not you, Wyatt. It's like something broke in me and it's not…"

"It's alright, Lucy. I'm going to make you some coffee. Here." He hands her a bottle of water from the side table before heading to the kitchen to breathe and try to survive the death of the last sliver of hope he's carried. The memories come of when they were first teamed up and he can't help but see the parallels in his situation then and hers now. By the time the coffee is ready and doctored to her exact specifications, he thinks he knows where to start.

Nodding at her in approval at the now empty water bottle, he sits down and hands her the mug. She stares down into it.

"I thought you were a vodka girl."

"I…used to be. Before."

Oh. The empty vodka bottle, right. He moves past it, because they're apparently broaching the subject anyway.

"I get it, Lucy. When-when we were with Bonnie and Clyde…" It's the closest either of them have come to mentioning their romantic relationship since that night she'd drunkenly reamed him out and he takes a moment to check and see that she's okay with it. She looks to him in question and he takes that as permission. "The kiss was…well, you were there, it was a good kiss in spite of the circumstances. But it hurt like hell, because the last person I kissed before you was Jessica."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't know." He shakes his head at her, because of course not, he'd never told her. "It's not the same, though. The last person I kissed was you."

Wait…what? The last… "I…you…what?"

"Flynn and I never kissed." A little jolt goes through her when she says his name, and Wyatt realizes he hasn't heard her speak it, not since before they'd left the bunker.

"I…I don't know what to say. I thought you were…"

That gets him an actual chuckle. "Yeah, not that you made that clear or anything. No, we never kissed, never held hands, never even openly talked about it. I mean, I kind of knew, but not really. I wasn't sure."

Wow. Wyatt doesn't know what to say. If she's this wrecked when they were never even technically together…he had always known they'd had a weird intense connection between them, but this…

"I'm really sorry, Wyatt. I shouldn't have come here. I just thought..." she cuts off and winces guiltily.

"It's okay, Lucy. You can say what you think and not worry about how it affects me for once, okay?"

"Tonight, I was just thinking that he made this sacrifice because he thought it would make me happy. You know, he ended up right about so many other things—not that he handled it properly—" Wyatt can't help but snort at that and she kind of shrugs in agreement. "But I thought 'what if he was right about this too?'"

Her coffee mug gets placed on the table as she buries her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Wyatt. I so wish that I could…for you and for my own sake…but he's still in my head. I've tried to get him out, but…even when I sleep, I, I either dream about him or worse, I DO forget, and then I wake up and remember. I don't drink often, not anymore—it—I kind of scared myself before. But when I do try to drink just to get one night…how much do I have to drink to forget? To get him out?"

Wyatt can only shrug and hug her in response because he knows there isn't an answer.

"I'm sorry," she whispers again.

"I know. I am too."

"What are you-?"

"Lucy, I made my choice a long time ago. I chose Jessica. Her turning out to be Rittenhouse, just because it was an impossible situation, it doesn't negate the consequences of that choice. It took me way too long to understand and accept that, but that's the truth of it. One of those consequences was you and Flynn growing so close."

She pulls back to look at him, weighing whether or not he's telling the truth.

"If we'd been together, it wouldn't have happened. He'd have respected that and kept his distance—no, not because of me—" Wyatt adds at her skeptical look "-because he respected you. So yeah, I'm sorry. Though, if we're being honest?" Lucy nods for him to continue. "I still don't really regret choosing her. I hate how it turned out, yeah, and I handled the whole thing wrong in about a hundred different ways. But at least I know now. I know I tried, and thanks to you, I know I can love somebody else, and…" He heaves a deep sigh. "I'm not stuck anymore, not like I was before time travel turned our lives sideways."

Wyatt doesn't bother adding that he knows she's still stuck, just like he'd been. He doesn't bother telling her he still loves her. She most likely knows, but the important thing is helping her because, frankly, she is a mess. This is the last proof, not that he'd really needed more, that a relationship with him is not the answer. It hurts, but…somehow hurts less than the thought of her choosing him and having to wonder if her heart was all there. He feels an uncomfortable pang of commiseration with Flynn at that, but shoves it aside as he lays her sleeping form down to the couch for the night.

Once upon a time, she'd helped put him back together. Now it's his turn.

It's bizarre, the thought of climbing back into a time machine, especially without Lucy. It had taken a couple months of cajoling, but Christopher had finally pulled the right strings and gotten the clearance. Given the pardons they'd preemptively granted the whole team for their service, they shouldn't even have problems with any legal issues.

"Jiya's coming too," Rufus says when Wyatt and Denise get to the warehouse, which is now deep underground at a government black site. It's guarded by round-the-clock soldiers, armed to the teeth, with a silent alarm for any break-ins that immediately alerts DHS. There's another matching one, somewhere, with the lifeboat. He hasn't been informed of the location. Rufus and Jiya are now on a list of six pilots who rotate on-call status—just in case. They'd kept both the mothership and lifeboat for the same reason. It makes Wyatt uneasy that the technology still exists, but Connor had pointed out that while he's a genius, he's not the only one. Someday, someone else would probably crack the code, and they could only hope that person was trustworthy.

You could see why they had their doubts.

"How come?" Wyatt asks the couple, with a small smile at the sight of the ring that glints on Jiya's left hand.

"No way in hell is Rufus going anywhere in the past without me ever again," Jiya replies with a tone that suggests she and Rufus have already fought this out, so he holds up his hands in surrender.

The mothership looms, an enormous white orb in front of them, and they all come to a stop as Connor joins them.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Mason asks the group at large.

The three nod as one and Wyatt is hit with a bittersweet pang. He's missed the team. Teaching new Delta Force recruits had its perks, like not getting actually shot at on a regular basis, but he's missed the synergy, the intimacy of this group of people who were more his family than his team.

"Okay, well, then. Go save Garcia Flynn." Denise laughs wryly as she says it, and they chuckle in response. The irony isn't lost on any of them.

Attempting being the operative word. It's why none of them let even a whisper of this get back to Lucy. If they're wrong about where he went, what he's doing, if he'd died sooner than they thought or in a different location, they might never find him. Jiya and Connor have done a ton of research that Christopher had signed off on as "reasonably close to legal" and they had a fairly good shot at being right. However, having chased Flynn through time before, neither Rufus nor Wyatt want to assume anything.

The three of them strap in, much more comfortably than he'd ever done before, and he feels their eyes on him.

"Wyatt…are you really sure?" Rufus asks. "I know things with you two aren't the way you thought they'd be. Lucy's still got a broken heart, but she is alive and well. She's not self-sabotaging or anything. Maybe if we give her enough time, she'll…not get over it, but be okay?"

Wyatt's lips tick up at that without humor as he looks back at his friend. "Is that what you really think?"

"Ah…" Rufus can't meet his eyes.

"Thought so," Wyatt deadpans. "Look, do I get her loving Flynn? No. Do I think that maybe time would help her? To some extent, yeah, but there's a lot more to it than just him and she's all alone. I want more of a life for her than just being okay. As for me, well…she's tried. Her heart isn't in it and I don't blame her. If I can fix this for her, I can't not try. Then maybe the both of us can move on."

He looks between the other two. Rufus looks resigned, but Jiya gives him a nod of approval and smiles at him. His eyebrows raise as it occurs to him that perhaps she's seen something. She just mimics him and shrugs.

"So, I guess…are you ready to go save Garcia Flynn?" Rufus questions like he can't believe he's saying it, but there's excitement in his tone as well.

"Yep," Wyatt says in response and they all smile hopefully at each other.

While they're going to find Flynn, they know he's not really the one they're trying to save.