Fragments
The abrupt, harsh buzz of his phone jarred Wyatt from an uneasy slumber. Rolling over and smacking his hand on the night stand in search of the obnoxious-sounding device, he cursed his lack of coordination as he struggled to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep. Finally closing his hand over the phone, Wyatt brought it to his ear, and clearing his throat, quietly answered, "Logan." A moment later, he sat up on the side of the bed, his broad shoulders slumped as he ended the brief call.
Checking the time, he was dismayed but not surprised to realize it was still the middle of the night, and while he could, and often had to, function on little-to-no sleep, the woman sharing his bed was a different story. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Lucy hadn't even stirred when his phone went off, and cursed anew at the need to wake her when he was certain she had only gotten a few hours sleep, if that.
It had been exactly one week since the one remaining constant in her life before they had joined the time travel circus had been utterly blown to hell in a way that had completely blind sided everyone, Lucy most of all. One week ago, Agent Christopher and a team of NSA agents had begun the arduous task of combing through the mountains of intel that Lucy's grandfather, Ethan Cahill, had painstakingly compiled and hidden away since 1954. None of the information scrutinized thus far had yielded the slightest whisper, not even a hint, of the mind-blowing bombshell that had been dropped on her mere hours later.
Dr. Carol Preston, lauded and well-respected history professor, and Lucy's beloved mother, was Rittenhouse, and had been since birth. As if it hadn't been frightening and horrifying enough for Lucy and the others to discover months ago that one of the upper echelon in the clandestine organization, Benjamin Cahill, who had been controlling them behind the scenes like puppets for months, was actually her biological father. But it was damn near incomprehensible that her mother was also not only Rittenhouse, but according to Dr. Preston herself, actually a higher rank in the group than Cahill, and therefore, she had emphasized with great pride and no small amount of zeal, their only child together, Lucy, was practically "royalty."
After their intense but less than satisfying conversation that day had been callously interrupted just as Wyatt had impulsively leaned in and pressed a kiss to her soft lips (his hand had itched to punch the smug, knowing look off Connor Mason's face), a blushing Lucy half-heartedly chuckled and gently squeezing his arm, said there was one thing she needed to take care of before the trio took out the lifeboat one last time in an effort to right the time line and hopefully bring back Amy. Wyatt really wanted Lucy to stay with him so they could finish their "possibilities" talk (and maybe he could steal another kiss), but he could tell that the errand was important to her, so all he could do was offer her a half smile and watch her walk away.
But then one hour turned into two, and then another, and after his attempts to call her went to voice mail and checking his phone every few minutes, Wyatt's gut feeling had escalated rapidly past concerned, to anxious, to just about frantic when it finally chimed with a text alert (thank God). Nearly dropping the phone in his haste, he was at first relieved to see the message was from Lucy but in a heartbeat, his relief was replaced by a stomach-churning fear. Wyatt practically ran to his locker to retrieve his firearm on his way out the door to the parking lot, stopping only for a second to apprise Agent Christopher of where he was headed. Understandably, she was also worried about the message from Lucy, and soberly asked him to keep her informed.
Wyatt drove as fast as he could without getting pulled over to where Lucy said she was and pulling up in front of her mom's house, slammed his truck in "park" and jerking the keys from the ignition, almost ran to the front door. Although it was nearing dusk, there were no lights on in the home that he could see. Pulling his gun from the holster, he quickly scanned his surroundings before cautiously approaching the door. Before raising his fist to knock, he pulled his phone out and hastily texted "I'm here" to her, and was startled when without warning, the door opened and Lucy flung her trembling body at him. (Something is terribly wrong here.)
Uncomfortable with the inherent vulnerability of standing in the open doorway, he maneuvered them inside and shut the door. Wyatt instinctively clasped her tightly against him, and tried in vain to decipher the fragments of words she was sobbing into his neck as she clutched the front of his shirt. As he gently rubbed her back, all he could make out was his name over and over again. "Shhh, Lucy, I'm here now, I got you. What is it? Are you hurt? Lucy, did someone hurt you?" he asked her urgently, leaning back to look into her face.
Her normally creamy complexion was devoid of any color, and her wide dark eyes alone almost broke his heart, pupils dilated nearly black, long lashes spiky with tears, as she fought to calm down. Carefully grasping her chin, Wyatt coaxed her attention to his face and voice, "Lucy, Lucy, I need you to breathe with me, ok? In, out, in, out, that's it, slow it down, you can do it. There you go, that's my girl."
Lucy's panicked dark gaze never left his as he tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb as she slowly, painfully forced her breathing in time with his. As her sobs dwindled to hiccups and the trembling lessened, Wyatt glanced around the hallway and behind her to see if she was alone. Aside from the two of them, the stately home had an empty stillness to it. He took her hand and walking into the first room he saw, made sure the draperies were closed tightly before turning on a lamp.
Drawing Lucy down on the sofa beside him, his gun in one hand and her hand held tightly with the other, Wyatt looked into her eyes and asked what the hell happened after she left him at Mason Industries earlier today. Swallowing hard, her slightly unfocused gaze wandered past his shoulder, as she began to speak in a soft monotone. He listened in astonished silence as she woodenly recited the events of the past couple of hours (and the hits just keep on coming).
Carol Preston had been visibly relieved when Lucy walked into the kitchen and hugged her tightly. Lucy had haltingly attempted to explain their fantastical mission over the past few months, hoping desperately that her mother could forgive her for probably putting Carol's life in jeopardy in order to change the time line back to a universe where her other daughter, Amy, existed.
Surprisingly, her mother had listened somewhat patiently without asking a single question or even showing any skepticism. When she had finished stammering through her story, Carol pulled her into a warm hug, and Lucy had felt so relieved and full of love for her mother's probable sacrifice. Then Carol leaned back, and with a vaguely patronizing smile, began to destroy her daughter with a handful of carefully chosen words. "Lucy, you won't lose me, I promise. Rittenhouse wouldn't allow it... Everyone is so proud of you..." and so, piece by piece, Lucy's world imploded.
She had recoiled in stunned horror from her mother, who hadn't seemed to mind, and in fact, completely ignoring Lucy's reaction, patted her on the arm and assured her that they would talk more about her future once she had a chance to digest the information about her great Rittenhouse heritage, the legacy that she, Lucy, had been born into. Then Carol had kissed her cheek, and giving her a fond smile, left the house, promising her daughter she would see her in the morning. A shell-shocked Lucy had staggered to the stairs and collapsing on a step, managed to text, "At home, need you NOW" to Wyatt. She couldn't seem to remember anything further until the moment he was at her front door and texted, "I'm here." Her voice trailed off into silence.
Wyatt realized with some regret that reliving the mind-shattering conversation with her mother for him had probably bruised Lucy's very soul, but he had to know what they were up against. A delicate stream of tears slid unchecked down her face, and her small hands tightened compulsively around his. Unfortunately, he all too easily recognized the signs that she was going into shock, and Wyatt knew he had to get them away from this place before her mother returned. Already anxious, during her recitation of the encounter with Carol Preston, as she had sucked in a harsh breath and stumbled over the name Rittenhouse, every instinct in him had screamed "danger–go now." Putting a gentle hand on her cheek, he urged, "Lucy, we can't stay here. We need to pack some of your things, because you aren't coming back to this house for a long time, maybe ever. Do you understand?"
He gazed into her now distant eyes to no avail. At her troubling lack of acknowledgment, Wyatt stood, and pulling Lucy to her feet, led her upstairs. She was completely mute now, but still willingly followed him as long as he held onto her. Wyatt glanced into a couple open doorways, not knowing which room was hers, and since by now Lucy seemed incapable of directing him, was relieved to recognize her bag sitting beside a large bed in a room at the end of the hall.
Holstering his gun, he pulled her over to the closet, and even though he knew it was futile, kept glancing at her standing there completely still beside him for any kind of response as he quickly chose a jacket, and a few shirts and sweaters he had seen her wear before, as well as a couple pair of jeans. Wyatt laid those on the bed, and after carefully settling Lucy on the side of the bed, he moved over to her dresser and started opening drawers. (Not exactly how he had secretly envisioned seeing her unmentionables for the first time.) Even though he knew she probably wasn't really aware of what he was doing, Wyatt's face warmed and he was unable to meet her eyes as he scooped up several delicate pairs of panties, a couple bras, and some socks. He hastily placed them in the bottom of the bag and quickly folded the other pieces of clothing on top.
He gave a fleeting thought to her personal items, but the increasingly vacant look in Lucy's eyes was really starting to worry him, so he reasoned they could just buy whatever else she would need. Wyatt zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, and taking a docile Lucy by the hand, hurried her out to his truck. He stashed the bag behind the seat, and after he helped her in, buckled her seat belt, and swiftly kissed her still trembling lips before he shut the door. The warning klaxon was sounding ever louder in his head, and he practically ran around the front of his truck. Taking one last look around the affluent, well-maintained neighborhood that Lucy loved and had grown up in, Wyatt climbed in, buckled his own seat belt, and quickly drove straight to Mason Industries.
Wyatt's call to Agent Christopher was necessarily brief but disturbing, as he filled her in on this latest shocking Rittenhouse development, and when she asked about Lucy, he had to admit that he was bringing her in to be checked out by one of the doctors Connor Mason kept on retainer. "Understood," was her brisk reply. After he ended the call, Wyatt reached over and took one of Lucy's limp, cold hands firmly in his, and began murmuring what he hoped were comforting words to her, though likely it was a useless effort. He feared Lucy was not entirely present in this devastating new reality right now, and his sense of urgency began to spiral again.
Thankfully, just minutes later, Wyatt pulled in one of the parking lots on the side of the massive facility near the back entrance. He absolutely didn't want anyone to see Lucy like this, and guessed when she was herself again (and she would be, he would definitely make sure of that), she would feel the same. Opening her door, he leaned in and unbuckled her seat belt, and taking her slim hands in his, he tried again, "Lucy, we're here at Mason. You're safe, I won't let anyone hurt you. We need to go inside now, okay?" He considered it a minor victory when she slowly blinked and her dull brown eyes darted quickly to him (there's my Lucy).
Once he helped her out of his truck, Wyatt put an arm around her and they slowly approached the door. He only let go of her long enough to swipe his I.D. card, and once inside, lost no time guiding her through a couple of deserted hallways to the medical wing. Agent Christopher must have alerted the staff to the situation because as soon as they were through the double doors, the physician on call, Dr. Adams, and a nurse were waiting on them.
As the nurse (he thought her name was Shannon?) stepped forward to escort Lucy to an exam room, she started to tremble and back away, whimpering, "No, Wyatt, please, I just want to go home." His heart aching at her distress, Wyatt pulled her against his chest, and putting his arms around her, tried to convince Lucy that it would be okay, he wouldn't let anyone hurt her. Shivering, she burrowed her face against his neck, and although Wyatt hated to make Lucy endure an exam, he had to be certain nothing had been done to harm her during the period of time she had been at her mother's that she wasn't able to recall. He carefully walked her back to the room and helped her up on the table without letting go of her hand.
Luckily, the nurse was able to complete a cursory exam while Wyatt held on to Lucy and whispered reassurances to her. Dr. Adams ordered a set of basic blood tests just to make sure Lucy hadn't ingested or been injected with any type of harmful drugs. He managed to keep her still and calm, and she barely reacted when the nurse deftly stuck the needle in her slender arm to draw some blood, save for a slight flexing of her hand that Wyatt was holding.
Dr. Adams asked Wyatt not to leave Mason with Lucy until they had the results of the blood tests, probably in less than two hours. He readily agreed, anxious to know she was at least physically all right. Mentally and emotionally, however, was another, much grimmer story. Wyatt's intense concern for Lucy was slowly being overshadowed by his growing anger at Carol Preston's betrayal, and he realized he urgently needed to talk to Denise Christopher. As soon as the nurse finished drawing the blood and had placed a bandage on Lucy's arm, Wyatt helped her down from the table, and after telling the doctor where to find them when the blood work was complete, he escorted Lucy to one of the lounges.
Lucy sat listlessly on the big leather sofa while Wyatt removed her jacket and shoes, and then after he shrugged his own jacket off, sat down and persuaded her to stretch out and lay her head in his lap. After Wyatt tenderly covered her torso with his jacket, he reached in his pocket for the phone and quickly tapped out a brief text to Agent Christopher, and began gently stroking Lucy's soft, wavy hair. "You're safe now, Lucy, and I promise that I will watch over you, so I want you to close your eyes and rest now," he murmured, and to Wyatt's immense relief, she obediently closed her eyes and drifted off. His mind raced as he caressed her hair. (How much more was she supposed to endure? Just how big a player was her mother in this twisted Rittenhouse game?)
One thing he could guarantee was that Carol Preston, like others before her, had probably greatly underestimated Lucy. For starters, his Lucy was not actually Carol's child in this particular time line. Not to mention the fact that she was so much braver and more resourceful than those Rittenhouse bastards might assume. His musings were interrupted by the lounge door opening quietly to reveal a grave Agent Christopher.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news, Wyatt," she began, and when she tersely informed him that eight Homeland Security soldiers who had been standing guard over the mother ship had been slaughtered, and the ship stolen by Emma Whitmore, Wyatt thought he might be sick. He should have known (Hell, they all should have known) that Rittenhouse wouldn't give up the mother ship so easily, and the loss of fellow soldiers tore at his soul. And he would bet good money that Carol Preston had her devious fingerprints all over this little operation. How foolish and short-sighted they had been.
Wyatt filled the agent in on the little information Lucy had been able to relate to him, and she shot her a sympathetic glance. "Poor Lucy, I can't begin to imagine what she is suffering right now. However, you do understand that I will need to interview her myself as soon as possible." At his immediate growl of protest, she raised her palm and responded, "Wyatt, I'm sorry, but you know full well that my hands are tied. Even the slightest piece of information Lucy can provide might help, in light of this new discovery about her mother. Now, I need to ask you a favor. After Dr. Adams clears her, can Lucy go home with you? Unfortunately, after what happened in that warehouse earlier this evening, I am a little short-handed at the moment. But I will be able to assign two agents at your place around the clock, plus I know that you will do everything in your power to protect her." Looking down at the now peaceful expression on Lucy's face, Wyatt raised his eyes to Agent Christopher, and swore, "With my life."
Agent Christopher's phone buzzed, and before she hurried out of the lounge, she made Wyatt grudgingly promise to bring Lucy in tomorrow, no excuses, not with what was at stake. A short while later, the doctor came in to assure Wyatt that Lucy's blood work came back negative for any kind of chemicals or medications. She was slightly anemic, but considering the lives the trio had led these past months, perhaps that was to be expected. Dr. Adams gave Wyatt two prescription bottles, one containing a mild sedative as needed to help Lucy sleep, and a low-dosage iron pill in the other. The doctor's opinion, which readily confirmed what Wyatt already suspected, was that Lucy had suffered a traumatic, emotional shock, but should start to recover after a good night's rest.
Wyatt thanked the doctor, and carefully sliding out from under Lucy's head, he stretched before easing his jacket from her and putting it back on (it smelled like her now). He knelt down and ran a gentle finger down her soft cheek. "Lucy, hey, c'mon, it's time to wake up and go home, okay?" Her long eyelashes fluttered open as she gazed up at him with a puzzled expression. "Wyatt?" she asked in a scratchy voice, looking around the room, "What are we doing here at Mason?" Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Lucy, what do you remember about the past few hours?" and felt like an ass when her face crumpled and raising her hands to her face, she began to cry.
Taking her hands from her face, Wyatt murmured, "Hey, Lucy, shhh, it's okay, you're safe now, please don't cry. I won't let anyone hurt you, I swear. We need to go now. C'mon, let's go home." He was so proud of her courage when Lucy sat up and swiped at her tear-stained cheeks as she stood, and offered him a shaky smile. "That's my girl," he praised as he helped her with her jacket and shoes. He pressed a quick kiss to her warm mouth and led her outside to his truck.
Although Lucy was silent on the drive to his apartment, he was pleased when she shyly reached over to take his hand. Parking in his usual spot, Wyatt was grateful for the presence of a dark sedan across and slightly down the street (Agent Christopher worked fast.) Grabbing her bag, he took her hand and they went inside, where he made her stand just beside the door while he made a careful sweep of the place. Satisfied they were alone, he returned to Lucy's side, where she stood quietly. "Are you hungry, Lucy?" At her quick denial, Wyatt thought to offer her a cup of hot tea, and to his relief, she nodded. After he put the teakettle on, he picked up her bag and led her down the hall to his bedroom.
Setting the bag down beside the bed, he said, "I'm afraid in my rush to pack some of your things, I didn't get anything for you to sleep in, but how about one of my shirts? And maybe for tonight, a pair of sweats so you can get out of those clothes." Lucy shot him a startled look, and Wyatt blushed. "Okay, that definitely didn't come out right," he admitted, and was thrilled when Lucy smiled shyly at him. To cover his embarrassment, he dug around in a drawer and got her a tee shirt and an old pair of his sweat pants.
Wyatt heard the teakettle start to whistle, and pressing the clothes in her hands, started for the kitchen to give her some privacy, when Lucy suddenly grabbed his wrist. He stilled at her delicate touch, and turned to look at her. Clearing her throat, she blinked away a tear, and said softly, "Thank you, Wyatt. You saved me, you always save me, and you take care of me, and I want you to know that I appreciate everything you do." She swallowed hard, and continued, "Earlier today, when my, my mom, when Carol was telling me those terrible things, all I could think of was 'Wyatt, I need Wyatt, he will save me', and you did. And even though I despise my desperate need for you, I just can't seem to stop. So, thank you."
Wyatt crushed her to his chest and murmured into her soft hair, "No, Lucy, you've got it wrong-you saved me. All these months we have known each other, you have never given up on me, and whether I wanted it or not, you brought me out of the darkness I hid inside of after Jess died, and gave me a reason to want to live again. And you can believe with all your heart what I told you and Rufus in that warehouse the other night before we stole the lifeboat. I am meant to protect you, and I will, always."
He leaned back and brought her soft lips to his for a slow, tender kiss, and lifted his head to see her eyelashes flutter open as she gave him a luminous smile. "How about we agree that we need each other?" Wyatt asked, and grinned approvingly when she nodded. "Why don't you get changed while I make us some tea, and maybe a snack, and we'll hang out for a while."
Not long after that, when Lucy had fallen asleep against him on the sofa, Wyatt carried her to his room and gently laid her on the bed. After he changed into a tee shirt and flannel pants, he slid in beside her and pulled the covers over them, and when the nightmares came, like he knew they would, Wyatt held her tightly in his arms, dried her tears, and soothed her back to sleep.
And thus began his new life with Lucy. Seven days now of spending nearly every moment together, as she slowly began to heal, and along with the rest of the team, they tried to prepare for whatever Rittenhouse had in store for them and their country. They were both painfully aware that her mother was still out there, planning who knew what. But Wyatt believed in Lucy and what they were gradually building together.
Looking at his phone again, he sighed and got up, and deciding not to wake her until he absolutely had to, Wyatt grabbed his clothes and slipped into the bathroom to get dressed. When he came out, he was amused to see Lucy curled up like a kitten around his pillow, and as he stood there watching her sleep, Wyatt made a vow to himself that no one from Rittenhouse was ever going to take her away from him, Carol Preston and her delusions be damned. Lucy was his now, and if she'd have him, he was hers, and they would save each other.
A/N: This is not the fic I originally intended to write. After I had written about two paragraphs, Wyatt took over, and decided he was in charge, so I just rolled with it LOL. Special thanks to emilycare for her encouragement...hope y'all enjoy :)