A/N- Alright guys! Finally posting a Timeless story, sorry it's coming this late in the game. Posting for the August prompt contest (the first and last time two characters do something together). So I wouldn't exactly call this a Garcy fic but it is heavily implied, also take note of the rating, this won't be dirty. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, please leave comments I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Oakland, California. 2018.
Lucy watched Flynn as he ate, studying his face as though it was her last chance, and it very well might have been. She snuck in her studying through brief and unnoticeable glances, not wanting to catch anyone's attention. His hair seemed pitch black in the low light of the room, a few stray strands flopped lazily into his face, he needed a haircut, but Lucy had been telling him that for awhile now. One stray strand of unkept hair brushed his nose which, by now, Lucy knew would scrunch up or flare out depending on his mood.
At the moment he was in a good mood, something that used to be so rare to see on him but as of lately it was almost as familiar as the way his jaw clenched when he was mad. Now the only movement in his jaw was when he chewed his food or spoke, always with a slight smile that broke Lucy's heart to look at for too long. She should've been happy too, she was probably the only one sitting around the table that wasn't.
"Lucy, you've hardly touched your food," Wyatt's voice shook her from her trance and she forced a smile on her face that, at least, fooled him. The attention of the table turned to her and Lucy felt a slight blush grow in her face as she mentally cursed Wyatt for saying anything. Jiya turned back to her plate quickly, not seeing any reason to stare as the men did.
"Yeah, I'm not all that hungry." Lucy mumbled, catching Rufus' eye and looking away instantly, he could see it. She could tell by the way his big brown eyes lingered just a little too long before going awkwardly to his food. Rufus could always see when something was the matter and it was kind of annoying.
"You should still try to eat," Rufus commented quietly, "don't want you getting sick in the morning."
Lucy took a bite of her dinner for show, but her stomach turned at just the thought of the next day. But even though she felt a sense of dread the rest of the room had an air of excitement and anticipation that she couldn't get in on. As Lucy ate a few more bites of their bland dinner Jiya said something about how they ought to get some champagne to celebrate. Flynn laughed at this, a sound that simultaneously made Lucy feel a little light headed and guilty.
"What do you think, Lucy, should we risk the drive?" Flynn's eyes glistened as he looked at her, she knew he was joking but still she felt almost angry at the question.
Leaving their little home was extremely dangerous and they only did it when completely necessary. Rittenhouse seemed to be always watching and ever since they broke Flynn out of prison it had only become worse. So no, Lucy didn't think it was worth the risk, and neither did they for that matter, but Lucy was unable to share in the joke. Her mind was elsewhere and her heart wasn't in the mood for any sort of celebration.
"I think we should focus on what we need to do tomorrow. Won't be very successful if we're all hung over." She muttered the last part, thinking that maybe she would prefer them to be hung over. With a long sigh she picked up her plate and stood, "I'm tired, I think I'm gonna head to bed."
The tiny house had two bedrooms, the original plan was one for the women and one for the men but Rufus and Jiya had moved themselves into the attic, leaving Lucy by herself. She should've taken it as a sign, a warning of what was to come, but in reality it hardly bothered her until now. As Lucy made her way down the dark hall she tried to reassure herself that she wasn't alone but an explosion of laughter from the dining room shattered that thought.
Lucy flicked the light on as she entered her small room, taking the time now to really examine it as she had examined her friend. It had very plain, off white walls with a single window and some unframed pictures pinned up here and there. The window had a crack in it which was always letting in a breeze whether it was wanted or not. At the moment the tiny breeze was causing one of the taped down pictures to flap around. This particular picture along with most of the others was a news paper clipping. Although some where polaroids, and one was from a photo booth, but all of them were pictures of the group on their missions.
She walked over to the wall and took down her favorite one, a photo that someone had taken at a bar in the sixties. Lucy was dancing with Wyatt and Rufus was dancing with some random girl, and if you looked close enough you could see Flynn leaning against the bar, watching Lucy as he drank his beer. It had been a good night and they were taking the time to relax after fighting off some Rittenhouse members. Unfortunately they got kicked out of the bar a minute after the picture was taken because Flynn chased down the man that took it and forced him to hand the photo over. They all had a good laugh about it afterward's though and Flynn gave her the picture on the way back.
Lucy smiled at the memory and sat down on her bed, opening the drawer on her night stand, taking out her journal and some tape. She placed the picture in it carefully, on a page that had nothing to do with that mission but she didn't care too much, Flynn was the only person that would read it. She closed the journal and put it back in her drawer, not in the mood to actually write tonight.
The journal wasn't finished yet, she had read Flynn's copy only a couple of times but she new vaguely how it ended and she wasn't even close. The leather bound book seemed to always get her mind drifting in a direction that was too dangerous for her own good. Lately Lucy was in a strange mood of hating Flynn one moment and feeling the opposite the next. And naturally those feelings had been a big factor into why she hadn't been writing as much recently. When she wasn't feeling hate she did whatever it took to not think about Flynn, which meant the journal was off limits. And when she was feeling hate she avoided the journal out of spite because she knew that Flynn wanted her to finish it.
The whole concept of giving Flynn the journal also bothered her on some level because it didn't seem fair that he should have such constant access to her thoughts. It wasn't fair that he could study her mind endlessly, and she was only given so little of him. Though, as of recently he hardly read it and the knowledge of this left Lucy feeling somehow abandoned. Behind all her annoyance there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing that he needed her as much as she needed him, even if neither of them admitted it.
With a heavy sigh Lucy rested her head on her pillow and shut her eyes. She wasn't lying when she told them that she was tired. Her emotions and her heart were extremely exhausted, but her mind was wide awake. So it wasn't really an issue when she heard the door open and someone entered. No, the issue came when she saw who was there.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Flynn was hunched over in that awkward way he always stood when he was feeling a little too aware of emotions. Not that he knew what he specific feelings at the moment were, he was never too good at the specifics.
"You didn't," Lucy was too drained to find a smile to force and so her tone came across just as dull as her expression.
"Good, good... I um, well, Rufus thought I should check on you, before we all went to bed. He thought you seemed a little troubled at dinner." Flynn's eyes met hers and then he shyly looked away, Lucy missed the way he used to stare.
"You can tell Rufus that I'm fine."
"Right," there was a long pause were it seemed as though he was going to walk away and he even took a step back but then walked into the room instead. Flynn closed the door quietly as he found his words, "I also just wanted to make sure everything was alright."
"I said I was fine."
"No, you said I could tell Rufus that you were fine, that doesn't mean anything, everyone lies to Rufus." He grinned a bit and his eyes lit up as Lucy unwillingly cracked a smile at the joke. The air in the room was much lighter now and Flynn took the chance to sit down on the bed.
"I guess I'm just anxious about tomorrow."
"We all are." His reassuring tone did nothing for her and Lucy wondered if it was too late to be harsh and tell him to go.
"That's different," instead she found herself speaking before she could give her words much thought, "you're all anxious about the off chance that this one fails and I'm..." their gazes collided and Lucy couldn't bare to know what he must've been thinking, "my life is going to be ruined after tomorrow, worse than it was at the beginning of all this. I can't teach history anymore, everything I know has been changed, and so I'll have no job. But I'll have Amy and a sick mother to take care of. Or, if something goes horribly wrong I might not even exist in this new timeline! And I won't have you... I won't have you guys, so I'll just be trying to figure this out on my own. And I just don't know if I can do that."
Lucy took a deep breath, praying that he didn't catch her mistake. Even if he had he wouldn't say anything, they had gone through it before and now it as too late, wasn't it? She waited for him to say something logical, because Flynn was always logical, but instead she just felt the bed shift. Soon Flynn was lying beside her, lacing his fingers in between hers and giving her a look that brought back memories and that same, almost guilty feeling.
"I'm sure agent Christopher could help you get whatever job you want. And from what you've told me about your sister, she'll be plenty of help with your mom, and I know you're dying to see her again," Flynn pulled her in closer, his lips brushing her hair as he whispered, "and as for you being alone, I'll never let that happen."
Lucy knew that he meant it but doubted that he could ever deliver on his promise. As much as it hurt her Flynn's heart was somewhere else and she couldn't blame him for it because she had encouraged it. She only wished that somehow they could both have what they wanted; that she could stay there, in his arms forever and he could continue on into the day after tomorrow. But instead she had to content herself in her present, while her sleeping mind drifted to the past.
New Town, North Dakota. 1876.
The crew stood around awkwardly, all four of them thinking the same thing but none of them wanting to actually say it. They were all exhausted, sweaty and dirty from the journey they had just gone on and were lucky enough to have made a friend along the way. Will, as he had instructed them to call him, was able to convince his tribe to let them stay for the night and they were provided with two tipis. This was where the problem was, the tents were small, so that only two people could fit. The number was right but the atmosphere was all wrong.
"I guess I'll take Lucy and you can bunk with Flynn," Wyatt finally said to Rufus after what seemed like hours of silence. Rufus looked up from his feet to give Wyatt a questioning glance.
"No way am I sleeping next to the guy that literally had someone shoot me," Rufus didn't even bother to add the expected 'no offense'.
In his defense it hadn't been long since their trip to the thirties and he was still dealing with the repercussions of that, not only his wound but Jiya as well. None the less Flynn was put off by the comment and resigned himself to rolling his eyes and crawling into his tent.
He sat down on the dirt inside and pulled out a small candle and some matches from his pocket. As he lit the candle he could hear the trio arguing outside over which unfortunate soul would be damned to spend a night in his tent. At one unexpected moment as he took out the journal he heard Lucy offer herself, sounding somewhere between annoyed and defeated. But this was interrupted by Wyatt listing off all the reasons why that couldn't happen, starting with the fact that Flynn had kidnapped her and ending with the fact that he was a murderer, though killing people was mentioned numerous times in the middle of his argument.
Flynn tried to put his mind off of this as he flipped through the journal. He first landed on an entry where Lucy talked about meeting Lincoln and as usual Flynn quickly passed it. He hated thinking about that day, and he hated that he had to forgo her beautiful writing because of what he had done on that day. Outside Wyatt was still going and Flynn flipped the pages faster in an attempt to drown him out.
"Alright, then that leaves you," Lucy pointed out. There was a long pause and Flynn turned his back from the tipis opening so that when Wyatt came in he wouldn't have to bother looking at him. The tent flap opened and Flynn waited impatiently for whatever remark Wyatt would think was witty, but much to his surprise he heard a different voice.
"Don't turn around, I'm changing into something more comfortable." Lucy's voice was an octave lower than usual and full to the brim with exhaustion of all sorts.
Flynn did as he was told, keeping his back to her as she slipped out of one dress and into another looser one. He heard her plop onto the ground and began flipping through the pages of the journal while she busied herself behind him, trying to make a pillow. As he read she tossed and turned, making quiet sounds that seemed to echo in the cloth tent. Her clothes would brush the dirt, her hand would tap the ground, her hair would fall this way or that. With each movement, no matter how minute, it seemed to become louder and louder.
"Could you be a little quieter?" Flynn asked, his voice was meant to sound more foreboding and annoyed but it came out somewhat desperate and weak, which was only emphasized when he added rather feebly, "I'm trying to concentrate."
"And I'm trying to get some sleep," Lucy huffed, "can't you put out the light and read that thing another time? It's not like you haven't read it a billion times before."
Flynn turned around to look at her and instantly felt guilty. She really did look tired, though the poor candle lighting could've been adding to it. Her usually shining brown eyes seemed overcast with darkness and her skin seemed somehow paler after spending all day in the sun. She almost looked like a ghost, and it was this thought that brought him back to reality.
"I reread it when there's something important to be learned, and I think I could be finding something here." His old tone had returned and Lucy's frown sunk to a comical pout, so that there was no doubt she was forcing it.
"There is no way anything I wrote could be that interesting." She argued after her puppy dog look failed to convince him. Flynn still opted to ignore her, turning to the side so that he could focus more on the pages in front of him. He was now staring at a picture of Jesse James and his heart sunk, he turned the page again as Lucy began to speak.
"Flynn, I'm serious I need some sleep!" She was upset now, she had every right to be and he could hear that clearly despite the fact that she was whispering.
With a slow and heavy sigh he closed the journal and tossed it on his bag. It wasn't helping anyway and this was the least he could do. Flynn's heavy eyelids drifted from the journal to the small candle between him and Lucy. It's flames swayed to and fro like it was dancing as it devoured the wick, destroying it even though it couldn't burn without it. This was what he thought about as his eyes moved slowly to meet Lucy's.
Perhaps it was the fire in his eyes, or the way he clenched his jaw, or maybe it was some other feature; some sign that he wasn't even aware of. But Lucy looked at him in that moment and suddenly she wasn't tired. All the fatigue in her face was wiped away and replaced with concern.
"What's wrong?" She spoke in such a whisper and so hesitant that she almost sounded like a child swearing for the first time.
He contemplated brushing it off, telling her it was nothing, that he was fine but deep inside Flynn knew he was past lying to her. A small breeze came in through the entrance and threatened briefly to put out the light, but it left as quick as it came, taking with it Flynn's chances of backing out. So they sat quietly for awhile as he tried desperately to make sense of his thoughts and figure out how to put it all in words.
"If I close my eyes long enough," he began slowly, shutting his eyes so that the world seemed dark, "I can see them, all the people that I've killed."
"Flynn-"
"No, don't." He opened his eyes to look at her but ended up staring at the ground, not wanting to see the pity that she must've been hiding behind her eyes. "Everything Wyatt said just now, it's all true."
"Wyatt is just stubborn, he's got these ideas in his head and-"
"Name one thing he said that isn't true." Flynn challenged her, finally catching her gaze. Lucy opened her mouth then closed it, feeling like the act somehow betrayed the man sitting before her.
"I'm a murderer and a thief... and what's worse is I don't even know what it's all for anymore."
"You do it for your family," Lucy argued. Her words were enough to shut him up for a moment but that was all.
"What family? They're gone... we've been at this so long I'm starting to wonder if I could ever change that... And even if I could what would I be to them? I'm no father. No husband."
The defeat in his voice nearly broke Lucy's heart, of course she had felt the same way before, but his determination had always pushed her forward. Now he was on the verge of giving it all up, surrendering to fate. She couldn't stand it, she couldn't bare to see him like this and hear him say these things, unknowingly betraying her.
"You've travelled the world, travelled through time, you've fought in wars that you weren't even born to see, all for them. Anyone would be lucky to have a husband like you," Lucy paused, realizing briefly what she had just said and then quickly adding, "a father like you."
Flynn's heavy gaze landed on her for just long enough that Lucy could see there was absolutely nothing there. The wheels in his head were turning slowly but never touching one another, never making sense of each other. With a low sigh he shook his head and Lucy forced a pitiful smile, the corners of her mouth lifting and falling in less than a second.
"Lie down, you'll feel better in the morning." She insisted, lifting her head and pushing her makeshift pillow closer to him. Lucy watched carefully as he lowered himself down, lying flat on his back, hands clasped together. He could've been a corpse lying like that, if his troubled eyes had been closed instead of shifting around anxiously. Lucy gently pulled his hands apart, catching his eyes for a moment as she rested her head on his chest.
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it," Lucy whispered into his shirt, "you're not a monster."
With that she stretched her arm across him and put out the candle. Flynn shut his eyes quickly as the darkness entered around them, fighting the urge to shiver in the heat. He breathed in slowly as his arms searched the night for the brightest thing they could find and as he pulled Lucy closer he let out a shaky breath.