COPYRIGHT: existing characters belong to NBC and the creators of Timeless. Story written for fan fiction fun.

AUTHOR: lezaanv

SUMMARY: a series of Garcia Flynn standalone stories featuring across various alternate timelines. Chapters are set during and after season 2.

CHARACTERS: Garcia Flynn; Lucy Preston; Rufus Carlin; Wyatt Logan

PLEASE BE ADVISED: story has not been beta'd. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. They are unfortunately mine.

DIRE STRAITS

Like sleet, lumps of dirt rained down upon the blistering terrain. The landscape reverberated beneath torn and tattered bodies. Chaos reigned. Fury reigned. Death led the advance of stampeding armies. Cruel and merciless, it sowed and wreaked havoc as it continued to march forward.

The surroundings barely filtered through the sliver of his frayed vision. And all he could think was what century had finally used an inferno to subdue him; to subdue a man with a sole purpose and persistent intent.

Grabbing at the sludge, he pulled his weary body to a kneeling position and began to crawl. The world rocked, he lost balance, recuperating long enough only to collapse at another earthshattering tremor. His hands slipped. Knees gave way. He felt the air leave his lungs.

Shouts of anguish slithered through the unyielding bombardments.

Men were dying. Like liquid dye, blood stained the battlefield, soaking it with the lives of determined soldiers longing for home. And oh how did he long for home. The precious moments spent holding his daughter. Whispered sweet nothings to his lovely wife. What did these soldiers hold on to? What did they envision as they marked the symbol of death on the enemies' faces?

And then he remembered this wasn't his war, even if it did feel like it was.

Something malicious chased him. Never stopped chasing him. He had no outlet. No soul to save. He deserved this fate. He deserved to die in a century teeming with malice and thirst for ultimate supremacy.

If he couldn't save his family how could he protect another?

Rolling unto his back, his eyes noted the mesmerizing flashes of bombs streaking across the night sky. Fourth of July fireworks. New Year's Eve Celebrations. Upbeat festivals and breath-taking carnivals. Aspiring bands performing before boisterous crowds. All the heart-warming memories which came with an ignited sky, suddenly they were polluted by a limitless conflict that has spanned the centuries.

When did he become so morbid and callous?

"Why can't you just die?"

His ribs cracked. He recoiled with the sheer agony.

"Die already."

The military boot came down for another bone-crushing blow, and he caught it just as its sole touched fabric. With vehement willpower, he twisted. Like a bottle cap, a knee popped, the attacker's harrowing screams joining the hundreds of soldiers nearby.

This was his war. He could fight this war. He was good at it. This he could do.

Scrambling haphazardly to his feet, he towered above the cowering enemy. He aimed the pistol at her thigh and fired. The world quaked once more, he faltered, but this time stayed the course and seized the collar of the soldier's jacket. Shattered ribs protested. Muscles shredded along his torso. Blood flooded from a serrated gap on his forehead. Left ankle was numb and most likely broken. Even so, he hauled her to her feet.

He smirked haughtily as the anguished redhead dangled from his grip.

"Don't you know? It's not my time, just yet." A rasping laugh bubbled in his throat. "But I certainly won't complain about yours."

He placed the pistol to her temple, but found the resolve to pull the trigger for a second time lacking. She was the last link in the chain. The opportune moment in time to end this conflict forever, and he hesitates.

The woman snorted. "At a time like this? Now you have a heart?"

Soil exploded around them; peppered the lifeless bodies of brave American soldiers. His legs buckled slightly.

"Torn in two are we?" She continued drolly. "Kill me, your pursuit ends and then what? The timeline resets and we're back to a conflict with no limits."

He stared at her, confused and uncertain, but still determined to finish this one last mission. She cackled.

"Hell, what did they do to you, Flynn? You've murdered Rittenhouse members one after the other. And when you have the ideal opportunity to severe the link forever, you do what, think?"

The rumbling of advancing enemy troops edged closer. They heard more than saw the cluster of bullets as they zipped on by. Though Flynn stood unmoving, processing her snapping comments with deep reasoning.

"So am I the cause of your life's perilous journey?" She grabbed his wrist. He pushed the gun harder against her temple. "Think about it, Flynn. Am I truly the source of your soulless actions? Rittenhouse may be burnt to the ground. They may have no lifeline anymore, except for the one who initiated this time loop."

"Lucy?"

"She lured you into this fight."

"Rittenhouse killed my family."

"And who killed her legacy?"

"You did!" He yelled furiously.

"You did!" Emma returned just as venomously.

Flynn flung her to the ground and pointed the gun at her forehead. Snarled his frustration. She merely laughed at him as she rolled unto her side. Suddenly, his gaze snapped up as the first sound of a German tank pierced the air. He looked at her again. The weapon in his hand vibrated along with the soil dancing at his feet. This was it, his last attempt at salvaging years of chasing Rittenhouse; of assassinating men and women. However, the woman wasn't wrong in her bidden manipulations.

She spoke his question out loud. "Who made you the man you've become over the centuries?" His green eyes flickered with recognition. "Yes, your family died, but who handed you the tool to eliminate their murderers? Who gave you-"

"I know! I know." He grabbed his head.

A cannon shot rang out, it's shell worming its way through the hill off to the north.

She smirked slyly. "Who's the true cause of your pain?"

"Stop it."

"The Mothership can once again be yours. Come with me, Flynn."

"No, I've worked too hard for this."

"Your family's gone. What hope is there for you?"

"You think I'll find it with you? You want to destroy the only person who understands my agony."

Emma snorted derisively. "Her heart belongs to someone else. You belong to your family. How can you find comfort?"

The pistol slowly rose to aim at her head. It trembled. He couldn't fight his wounded body any longer and went down to one knee. She lunged for him, and met the side of his weapon as he fought her off. Groaning, she fell onto her back, head lolling with the brutal blow.

"You die when I die."

"I live, Flynn. You die."

"That's in another timeline."

"And nowhere do you get the girl."

"Never took you for the romantic type, Emma. Now be a good girl and shut up!"

"I'm alive because you need someone to stop you from killing one more unarmed innocent!"

"You're far from it."

Eminent war was upon them as the sound of rushing boots entered the forest to the south.

"You're gonna let the Germans take the Mothership?"

In the distance, a ball of fire lit up the sky. Flynn laughed painfully. "There she blows."

Emma gawked in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds darling and we're sauerkraut."

"You destroyed it!"

"Looks that way." He coughed raspingly. Blood trickled down his wrist where he stifled it.

"They'll find yours." She persuaded.

He laughed at the irony. "Gone with the wind."

"You sent it back?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised, honey."

"You bastard!"

"Kept you occupied long enough."

He slumped over onto his side. Desperate, Emma clawed at the gun dangling from his slender fingers when a salvo of German shouts halted the effort. The small barrel of a Luger followed the procession and jabbed her head from behind. She heard laughter abound before the soft click of a trigger ended her struggle.