Author's notes: Listen this is pure fucking angst (maybe a happy ending ok probably definitely a happy ending) I'm so sorry but I couldn't get it out of my head. Hope you guys enjoy!

Garcia was dead.

And Lucy felt like she was too.

Rittenhouse had taken everything away from her. Her mother. Her sister. And now Garcia.

And even though they had brought Rufus back, Denise said it was too risky to save Garcia. Too risky to save the man who had sacrificed everything for people who didn't give two shits about him.

Everybody except Lucy that is.

Denise claimed Lucy was in denial.

In the days after Garcia's trip to the past, Lucy tried over and over to convince the team that he was still alive and that one day he would make it back to them. She would hold tight to the journal he had handed her not too long along. A journal full of future adventures. Future loves. Just a future.

Nobody had the heart to snuff out the last spark of hope in her eyes so they let her keep on believing.

They watched as she tried to go about everyday life as if nothing had changed.

One morning, Lucy made coffee and out of habit made another cup for Garcia. When she realized that he wasn't standing over her shoulder complaining about how she makes it too sweet, she froze. Her hand shook as it hovered over the second cup of coffee before she slammed her eyes shut and shoved it into the sink before quickly leaving the room.

A few days later, when listening to a briefing from Denise, Rufus made a comment and Lucy waited for the usual snark that usually came from the foreign man who always sat at her side. When it didn't come, Lucy tensed looking off into space, and the team saw a tiny part of the spark die out in her eyes.

Her denial turned to numbness the day Denise found the coroner's report of Garcia's body.

That was the day that Lucy decided instead of chasing Rittenhouse through history, she was just going to let go. Without Garcia, there was no point in fighting anymore. She was done fighting back. All this war had cost her was her loved ones. She was done losing everybody.

So without a word to the rest of the team, she had locked herself away in Garcia's room, wearing one of his oversized sweaters and downing bottle after bottle of vodka. Her journal long since torn apart after she realized it wouldn't help her save him. Help her bring him back.

At first, the time team had given her space. But as the days passed, they had tried reasoning with her. Bribing her. Begging her. Anything. But she didn't react.

It had finally taken Wyatt yelling in her face to get her back into the fight.

But it wasn't long before the team realized it might not have been the best idea.

Her numbness had turned to rage. She became reckless. She took uncalculated risks. And on their latest mission, she had shot a Rittenhouse agent down in cold blood and hadn't even flinched.

When Denise confronted her, Lucy spoke for one of the first times in months, her voice raw.

"What else have I got to lose?"

Denise didn't want to let Lucy go on the next mission after the stunt she had pulled last time.

But Wyatt had argued that without a historian, they would be dead in the water. In reality, it was because he didn't want to leave Lucy alone. Worried about what she might do. Denise knew it was a lie based on the year Rittenhouse had landed, but after a glance at the woman, she had agreed.

And so the time team find themselves in the early 2000s in Paris.

"Why is Rittenhouse even here?" Rufus complained as a French man bumped into him, the other man yelling obscenities at him.

Lucy shrugged as she walked down the street, the boys lagging behind watching the slumped shoulders of the woman in front of them.

Wyatt cleared his throat, "We should start talking to some people, trying to see if anything is out of the ordinary."

Lucy managed to convince the men to split up, planning on meeting up in a few hours at the lifeboat. It wasn't like they were in medieval times, she had argued. And the men had no choice but to agree.

Splitting up wasn't the best idea. Because not five minutes later Lucy ran into a Rittenhouse sleeper, who recognized her instantly.

Running into a nearby bar, Lucy grabbed the first man she could find, "Can you help me?" Lucy spoke in French, waiting for the man to turn.

But when he did, Lucy froze.

Before her stood Garcia Flynn.

For a moment, Lucy believed he had been brought back. But as her eyes roamed his face she noticed the differences between this Garcia and her Garcia. He was younger. A smile gracing his face. He had to be in his mid-30's.

As a door slammed open behind her she jumped, knocking her out of her thoughts, and missing what the man before her had said.

A body brushed up against her and she flinched away, curling in on herself.

She saw Garcia reach out his arm slowly as not to startle her. And not wanting to look up at the man before her, she let him guide her over to the corner of the bar, his hand resting on her back.

She made note how he placed himself in front of her, his tall body hiding her small frame from the other bar patrons.

"Are you alright?" He spoke in English; however, his accent was thicker than she was used to. Hearing his voice again sent a spark through her.

Garcia's hand slide from Lucy's back to rest lightly on her arm as he leaned down trying to get a better look of her face. When she wouldn't look up, his other hand raised, hesitantly brushing against her cheek, pushing her hair back behind her ear. The feeling was so familiar to her, she almost leaned into him. But as his fingers danced across her cheek, she realized his hands weren't as rough as her Garcia and she pulled away with a gasp.

The man went to take a step back but froze when Lucy finally looked up, meeting his deep green eyes.

Garcia swallowed hard as he scanned her face, his brows furrowing at the look of pain and panic on her face.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he opened his mouth. But before he could say a word, Lucy tensed as she caught sight of movement near the bar door. She quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him behind a pillar.

Lucy watched as the Rittenhouse sleeper slipped by the bouncer, the gun in his hand glinting against the strobing lights on the bar's dancefloor.

Garcia followed Lucy's gaze, immediately seeing the gun in the man's hands. He tensed, his hand tightening in Lucy's, as the gunman's eyes roved the bar.

Before Garcia could even make a move, the gunman's eyes landed on the woman next to him. And Lucy could feel his heart start to race against her back.

Without a second thought, without even knowing this woman, Garcia knocked Lucy to the ground as gunfire echoed through the bar. People began screaming and the pounding slaps of footsteps echoed across the room as the Rittenhouse sleeper continued to spray the bar with bullets.

Pulling the gun from her waistband, Lucy flipped off the safety, watching as Garcia's eyes widened. Her finger itched toward the trigger as the gunshots grew closer.

Garcia made a move to take the gun from Lucy's hand, but before he could take action, she pushed him away shoving him further behind the bar before she stood up and began firing.

Her Garcia had taught her how to shoot. How to defend herself. Not because she wanted too, but because she knew she had to. She had never wanted to take a life. But this was war, wasn't it? Her past self would call herself a hypocrite, for hating Garcia for the exact thing she was doing now. But there wasn't time to dwell on that now.

Lucy let out a scream as a bullet skimmed past her shoulder, falling to the ground, her back against the wall. But instead of paralyzing her, the pain just spurred her on. She could faintly hear Garcia screaming something at her. But she blocked it out and squeezed her eyes shut for just a second before taking a deep breath, standing, and shooting the gunman point blank.

The man fell to the ground with a thud.

And Lucy felt nothing.

"What…what just happened?"

Lucy swallowed hard, ignoring Garcia, as she placed the gun into the back of her pants with shaking hands. Her heart sunk in her chest and she once again fell down to rest against the bar.

Garcia, thankfully uninjured, moved over next to her and grabbed her shaking hand as it moved toward her shoulder wound.

"I'm fine."

Garcia snorted, "You are not fine. Who's after you?" He placed his hand under her chin, his voice softer, "Let me help you. I work in security. The NSA. I can help you."

Lucy just shook her head but the man continued to argue, his accent growing thicker as he grew more agitated.

"No!" She spat.

Garcia flinched and Lucy winced, turning to face him, an apology on the tip of her tongue. But she swallowed it.

Reaching out, Lucy cradled Garcia's face in her hands, the man's eyes confused and full of worry for this unknown woman in front of him.

Her eyes began to burn as she looked into the eyes of the man she loved. The man who didn't love her back. The man who didn't even know her.

Her eyes were dark as they roamed over his innocent face. A man not yet hardened by war. Shoulders without tension. Face without the lines of pain and sadness. Eyes that seemed to glow with something she assumed was peace.

"Promise me." Lucy begged, "When you come across the words, Rittenhouse. Walk the other way. Don't investigate. Just stay home with your wife and daughter."

"Wife and daughter… I-" Garcia stuttered as he shook his head.

"No, just no, promise me." Lucy's voice quivered, her hands gripping tighter to him.

The man, ever still confused, nodded his head solemnly because even though she wasn't making sense, the words coming out of mouth were sincere.

Before she could stop herself, Lucy pulled the man toward her, pressing her lips against his. She felt his own move back hesitantly against hers. And as he deepened the kiss, Lucy gave into the last moment she had with the man she loved. And she felt her heart breaking all over again.

The salt of her tears coated their lips and Garcia reached out brushing the streaks off her cheeks.

And in one moment of weakness, she almost decided to stay. Live a life here. In a past. With him.

But he deserved a life without her. Deserved a life free of pain. Without her. Without Rittenhouse. A life with Lorena and Iris. A life with his family.

Lucy pulled away and smiled sadly taking one last lingering look of his face, trying to memorize every freckle, every dimple, every part of him, "Have a happy life, Garcia."

And then she was gone.

And the man just sat there, oblivious to everything around him, as he unconsciously brushed his fingers across his lips.

Lucy arrived at the lifeboat a few hours later. The journey longer than she had expected. Wyatt and Rufus, who had been pacing for hours, immediately began fussing over the wound of her shoulder. But Lucy brushed them off and climbed into the lifeboat, not waiting for the others as she buckled herself in.

The team rode back in silence.

Lucy had lost the man she loved. Twice. And if anything, it hurt more the second time. She kept her eyes closed, holding onto the memory of his green eyes. The eyes she would never see again.

The lifeboat landed and she didn't waste one second before unstrapping herself and opening the door.

However, as she began to climb out, she caught sight of somebody standing a few feet away from the time machine. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest as she slipped, falling back into Wyatt.

The man propped her up and held onto her as she scrambled out of the lifeboat, not even waiting for someone to roll up the staircase.

Walking slowly, the room around her fading away around her as if she was in a dream, she stopped just a few feet from the man in front of her.

For a moment she thought she was hallucinating again. Seeing him when he wasn't really here. He couldn't be here. Could he?

"Lucy?" Rufus asked, before realizing what she was staring at, "What?…. Flynn?!"

The tall man smirked, "You weren't gone that long. I highly doubt you forgot me already."

Rufus pointed at him, sharing a 'holy-shit' face with Wyatt, "But I…he- dead- WHAT?!"

Garcia's brows furrowed as he took in the pale faces of his team. His gaze landing on Lucy who still hadn't moved and didn't seem to be breathing.

"Was… was I not alive?"

"You died. You were dead." Lucy's voice cracked, she took a hesitant step forward, before her brows furrowed, her eyes sparkling as she stalked up to him, "I told you to live your life. I told you not to go after Rittenhouse!"

The small woman's voice echoed loudly throughout the bunker. The other time team members moving into the living area to see what all the screaming was about.

Lucy reached out, shoving Garcia back, the tall man rocking back on his heels. Staring down at her hands, Lucy was motionless. Until that moment when her hands had touched him, she hadn't been sure he was even here. But she had touched him. He was solid. He was here.

Reaching out again, Lucy placed her hand onto Garcia's chest, feeling the man's heart beating steadily.

Her throat began to burn, her eyes wet as the anger built up within her.

"You were supposed to live a happy life. With your wife and daughter. I told you. I told you. Why didn't you listen?"

Garcia waited for a moment, watching as Lucy's chest heaved, at how she was trying so hard to keep herself from falling apart. And then he reached out. Cradling Lucy's face. And her eyes finally, finally, met his. A small smile formed as he watched her shoulder's drop as his thumbs stroked her cheeks.

"They're alive."

Lucy flinched, "What?" She whispered.

Garcia nodded, "Lorena and Iris. They're alive. I got them out in time. I saved them. Because of your warning. I knew something bad was coming." He let out a short laugh, "At first I thought I dreamed it all. I wasn't even sure you were even real until I first came across the name Rittenhouse. By then I knew I had to join the fight."

"Why?"

"Because of you Lucy."

Lucy shook her head, confusion clouding her words as she pulled away from him, "You gave up a peaceful life. A happy life. For this?"

"For you. For this fight. Yes."

Lucy shook her head, trying to wrap her head around what he was telling her.

Wyatt stepped up, "Your wife and daughter, are alive?"

Garcia smiled softly, "Safe and sound in Paris. With my brother."

Lucy took a few steps backward, startling the man in front of her at her sudden movement. And before he could stop her, she turned on her heel and walked over to the couch, sinking down onto it, placing her head in her hands.

Garcia moved as if he were going to go to her, but Wyatt grabbed the tall man by the arm and lead him toward the kitchen.

"I would say I thought we were past this hatred. But since I was dead, I guess we never become friends." Garcia said with a wry smile.

Wyatt wrinkled his nose in disgust for a second, before he sighed.

"Listen. Lucy thought you were dead. We all did. It's not gonna be the same for her. You need to give her some space."

Garcia's head bowed, "I know you mean well, I do. But I will do what I think is proper. And right now I want to talk to Lucy."

"And I can't let you." Wyatt said through gritted teeth, "You don't understand. Lucy was devastated when you died. She was broken. For weeks she was in denial. And then when we found your body…."

Wyatt swallowed as he glanced at the woman across the room, her hands gripping tight to her hair.

Rufus stepped up, "She turned dark, Flynn. Killed people. She didn't care anymore."

"She is still Lucy."

Wyatt stepped up toward Garcia, his eyes hard, "She may still be Lucy, but she sure as hell isn't yours."

Garcia held his tongue as he glared down at the younger man. And just went he went to reply, Rufus spoke, "Um guys, where did Lucy go?"

Lucy slipped into Garcia's room. The room she had been sleeping in since he died.

She expected it to look the same. But when she opened the door, she froze. The small cot that had been in the corner of the room was gone. And in its place was a bigger bed.

Men and women's clothes were thrown over the chair.

Books piled high on the floor.

She hesitantly inched over and began to thumb through the papers on the desk.

They were hers.

Swallowing hard, she reached out grabbing the corner of a picture frame sticking out behind a pile of books on the window ledge.

The door creaked open behind her and she ignored it as she focused on the picture in front of her. A picture of her and Garcia. The taller man pressing a kiss to her temple as she looked up at him with an exasperated smile. It was just one of those quick print photos, but someone had placed within a nice frame, their names written in cursive above it.

"I don't remember…."

Garcia cleared his throat, "It was a few months ago. Denise bought Jiya a camera for her birthday and she took pictures all night. Claimed we were "too cute" not to document."

"We're together?" The words almost getting stuck in her throat.

Garcia nodded.

"But Lorena. Iris."

"Happy and safe. I meant what I told you, Lucy. I can never be who they want me to be. I'm a different person. And Lorena is a different person. I will always be a father to Iris. But I'm not the same. And I'm fine with that. Because now I have someone. I have you." He said, offering her a small smile.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

"You don't have to do anything." He spoke, his voice deep, his accent just a tad thicker than before.

Lucy closed her eyes, placing the picture down on the table, wishing more than anything that she had lived this life with Garcia.

"We never got this far. Me and….my Garcia. I loved him. I never got to tell him."

He stepped up behind her, his hand stroking up and down her arm and she leaned back into his solid chest, the tension leaving her body.

"He knew. And I can assure you he loved you back. Because I'm him. And I love you, Lucy."

Lucy shook her head, "But I'm not the same."

Garcia turned her around, reaching out to lift her chin when she refused to meet his eyes.

"You are Lucy Preston. And I am Garcia Flynn. And we may not be the same as we were but that doesn't mean we aren't still ourselves."

Garcia waited as Lucy stared silently at him until she finally saw him.

Staring at him. Meeting those eyes. Lucy realized that maybe he was hers. A different version perhaps. But still Garcia.

She lifted her hand, brushing her finger across his forehead, down his cheek, and then drifting across his lips.

"Lucy." He whispered, his eyes were dark as he swallowed heavily.

Lucy's eyes sparkled with mischief for the first time in months as she teased the man in front of her.

But then she took a step back, a sad smile gracing her lips, "I, um don't have anywhere to sleep tonight, since I'm assuming I lived here…"

"Lucy. You are more than welcome to take the bed tonight, I'll sleep-"

"With me?"

Garcia brows shot up.

"Please. I…" She didn't know how to say that she didn't want him out of her sight. But without even saying anything, he understood.

Lucy shot up in bed. The sweat glistening on her skin in the sunlight. She threw the covers onto the man beside her, who still fast asleep, and walked over to the window, yanking it opening, welcoming the cold snow air. The numbness seeped into her skin. The only way she could feel anything. To know that it was just a nightmare. That it wasn't real. She sank to the couch beneath the window, closing her eyes.

Nightmares had plagued her nights ever since Garcia had died. Once she had welcomed them, as they were the only way she was able to see Garcia. But now that the man was sleeping peacefully not just five feet from her, the nightmares were just that….nightmares.

She studied the sleeping man, his face relaxed, his hair a mess, his arm reached out as if searching for her.

He may not be the exact same man she knew. But she welcomed him all the same.

She knew that with time they could get on the same page again.

When she woke the next morning, she found Garcia's sweater wrapped around her. Lucy pulled it close and breathed in the scent, her eyes closing tight wishing instead it was the man himself wrapped around her. And if she had spoken him into existence, Garcia settled next to her, pulling her toward him until she was curled against him.

"What do we do now?"

Garcia held out his hand, waiting until Lucy placed her hand in his, smiling when she laced her fingers through his.

"We do this together."