A/N: Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Standard disclaimers apply.

Rufus had been so excited for the shiny new technology.

To be fair, he did have every reason to be excited. These communication devices were top of the line, and his team was going to be some of the first people to ever use them. The tiny earpieces fit inside of one's ear canal, hiding from any curious eyes but allowing anyone else with another of the set to hear everything that was going on. Mason had developed them for a government contract, and Agent Christopher was more than happy to let Rufus, Wyatt, and Lucy wear them on missions into the past. It really was a great idea, at least in theory. The team could keep in touch with each other even if they got separated, and because of the way the earbuds fit, there was next to no chance anyone from the past would spot the comms and get confused by futuristic technology. Even if Flynn and his goons somehow got close enough to any of the team members, they would be hard pressed to ever spot the devices.

The idea as Rufus had explained it was that a small tap to one's ear would activate the little device and another tap would turn it off. That way they wouldn't feel completely robbed of privacy, but the others would be just a small gesture away if needed. Wyatt didn't understand why the team had to have the earbuds anyway. Too much of a chance of something going wrong, and besides, the stupid thing would never sit right in his ear from the moment he tried it out. Lucy and Rufus seemed right at home with this new feature, although granted, Rufus seemed much more at ease with the foreign object in his ear than Lucy, but neither appeared to mind it at all. Wyatt couldn't get his mind off of the little device sitting inside of his head, and the more he focused on it, the more it irritated him, until Rufus finally spoke up that Wyatt's face was intimidating and that maybe the soldier should just take the earbud out for the moment.

The next hitch in the excitement came when they least expected it. Not that anyone could truly be prepared for the sort of thing that suddenly transpired when the team split up to cover more ground. Lucy hadn't been able to figure out what Flynn wanted in the 1960s yet, but Wyatt couldn't care less if they ever found out. His main concern was just to take out the other man, not learn what historical event Flynn wanted to disrupt. It was on a whim, when he stopped in one of the bars that lined the street, that he spotted Flynn. Acting on that whim was where things started going very wrong.

Wyatt put a hand on the edge of his jacket, ready to cross the room and pull his weapon. He wasn't sure shooting someone in a room full of witnesses was his best option, but he'd just have to improvise. Regardless of what happened to him afterwards, he was going to take out Flynn this time. He was not about to let the man slip through his fingers yet again.

And then Flynn looked up and locked eyes with Wyatt. Flynn gave him a strange look for just a moment before focusing his gaze on someone past Wyatt's shoulder and giving a curt nod. The hair on the back of Wyatt's neck stood on end, and he spun to confront the threat behind him, knowing Flynn was up to something. But he was too late. Before he could do more than shift his weight, there was a gun barrel poking into the left side of his lower back.

Someone grasped his shoulder roughly and leaned in. Wyatt could feel hot breath on his cheek as the man growled in his ear, "Don't try anything funny or you get a bullet in the gut." Then the man was pushing him forward, staying close enough that no one else in the room would be able to see the handgun he kept firmly pressed against Wyatt's side. It was just a few steps to Flynn's table, then the gunman tightened his grip on Wyatt's shoulder and paused, holding Wyatt in place both with his hand and the threat of the gun while Flynn looked him up and down.

Flynn nodded to Wyatt in greeting. "Nice to see you again, Wyatt."

"Can't say the same," Wyatt snarled. If only there weren't so many innocent bystanders… although that was probably Flynn's reasoning for choosing the place.

Flynn just smirked before turning back to Wyatt's captor. "You know what to do?" he asked, his voice low.

"Oh yeah," the man acknowledged.

"Good. See you tonight."

And then, before Wyatt could ask anything else, he was being firmly escorted towards the side door. He was contemplating taking on the man as soon as they stepped outside, weighing his odds of getting his vital organs out of the way before the gun went off, but then the door opened from the outside and another man appeared in the daylight. For a moment, Wyatt felt a flash of hope that this burly newcomer would be his salvation. If he yelled that the man behind him had a gun, would escape be possible in the chaos?

That idea went out the window as soon as the man in the doorway whipped a black bag from his jacket pocket and yanked it over Wyatt's head. Then someone grabbed a fistful of the back of Wyatt's shirt, and the next thing he knew, he was stumbling a few steps before being yanked off his feet and thrown forward roughly. There was a moment where he went airborne and flailed as he tried to put his hands up to protect his head, but then he felt himself landing on a hard surface, sliding a short ways from his forward momentum before being stopped with a thunk against a hard metal surface. In a flash, he realized he had been thrown into a van, as he could feel the floor vibrating underneath him and hear the door sliding shut behind him. Before he could scramble to his feet, someone was on him, pinning his arms behind his back. There was the scratch of a rope as it encircled his wrist, and Wyatt thrashed against his captors, desperate to gain control of the situation. He didn't know what the men had in store for him, but there was no way he was going to let these goons of Flynn's do anything to him if he could help it.

Wyatt kicked out blindly and felt his foot connect with something soft, hearing a grunt from whichever goon his foot had caught. Then someone was on his back, twisting his arm, and reflexively, Wyatt paused at the pressure that ran up his arm to his shoulder. That was just long enough for the man at his back to snake the rope around Wyatt's wrists, and almost immediately afterwards, it was tied off firmly.

At the same time, he felt movement by his foot, and he instinctively kicked again, aiming for where his best guess put that person. He grunted in satisfaction as he again felt the blow he managed to land. There was a dull thud as whoever it was hit the side of the van, and Wyatt threw another kick even as he rolled and pushed against the floor in an attempt to sit up. Then a bright flash of light illuminated his vision as he went limp. His head hit the hard surface beneath him, and that was when the pain registered.

As the sounds around him faded, he could hear the two men yelling orders at each other.

When he awoke, it was to silence.

It took him a moment to realize he was no longer in the van, and another moment to realize he was sitting upright in some sort of chair. His chin had been resting against his chest, and his neck protested as he straightened it. Before he could take in more of his surroundings than that he was in an empty room, the throbbing in his head made him squeeze his eyes shut in concentration as he tried to focus past it. He was a little foggy on the details of how he had gotten to where he was, but he was pretty sure he had missed something - and not just from being unconscious while he was transported to wherever he was. These men were obviously working with Flynn, but Wyatt had no idea who they were. Whenever that dirtbag of an excuse for a human being showed up, Wyatt was going to rip him a new one.

He shifted, and the rest of his senses all came to him in a rush. Suddenly, he realized that the pressure on his shoulders was still there, as his arms were tightly bound to the back of his seat. When he tried to move his feet, he found they were secured to the legs of the chair. And then a noise off to his right made him realize that he was not alone. Footsteps clicked across the floor, and then suddenly a hand was roughly patting his cheek. Wyatt squinted in response and then grimaced at the bright light that pierced his vision. He blinked and then kept his eyes closed in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

"Well, well, well," a voice spoke up. "Look who's awake."

Wyatt didn't bother opening his eyes again. It wasn't Flynn's voice, and he really didn't care right now about finding out exactly who this person was. All he cared about was concentrating past the pain and figuring out a way out of the situation. Then a hand slapped his cheek, causing his eyes to shoot open. Black eyes met his, and the man smiled.

"There now," the man said in satisfaction. "Time for a little face to face chat. Let's start with introductions. You are?"

Wyatt didn't reply as he sized the man up. This was not either of the men who he had seen at the bar in town. This man carried a foreboding air of deadly authority. He was tall and well-built, with bulging biceps and a scar that crossed the bridge of his nose to run into his left eyebrow. Dark hair was combed neatly in place, and the suit the man wore left no doubt that he had a good source of income coming from somewhere. Although it seemed very new, so perhaps the man had just come into that money.

At Wyatt's lack of response, the man stepped in closer and raised his hand, striking the side of Wyatt's face. Wyatt winced as the back of the man's hand caught him on the side of his head. Pain ran down his neck as the blow jerked his head to the side, and he couldn't hold back a grunt at the impact.

And that was when Lucy's voice exploded in his ear.

"Wyatt!" Lucy's wide eyes met Rufus's as their teammate's pained grunt reached both of their ears. It had been sudden and unexpected, and she didn't know whether to be relieved or cry over what they were now hearing.

When Wyatt had not met them at their predetermined rendezvous point, they had brushed it off at first. After all, any number of things could have happened. But then time passed, and Wyatt still didn't show up, and their attempts to raise him on the comms had failed. By that point, they were starting to get frantic with worry and knowing that they had no idea where to start in looking for their teammate. The plan had been to split up and look for Flynn, using the new comms to alert the others if they found him. If anything went wrong, they would also use the comms to call for help. It had been foolproof, or at least, it had seemed to be a much better option than having to stay together and meet back at the lifeboat if they happened to get separated.

But then Wyatt hadn't shown up at the cafe where they had planned to regroup if none of them found their target that afternoon. Lucy and Rufus had repeatedly attempted to contact their teammate over the comms, but they failed to receive any response no matter how many times they tried. They both knew panicking would get them nowhere, but it was becoming harder to stay calm with each passing minute. They had paused in their efforts to get their partner to respond to their calls on the comms and were silently turning over ideas in their heads when there was a sudden crackle and then Wyatt's grunt sounded loudly in their ears.

Lucy was quick to tap her ear to activate her own comm. "Wyatt, where are you? What's going on?" she demanded, her worry evident in her tone of voice.

There was no immediate response, and then a dull sound again came through their earbuds, accompanied by another grunt from their teammate. Neither Lucy nor Rufus could find the right words, but the expressions on their faces as they looked at each other said it all.

"Wyatt? Wyatt, are you okay, man?" Rufus tried to hide the shaking in his voice as he took a turn.

Still no reply from their teammate. And then Wyatt coughed harshly and spoke up. "Come on; you at least owe me some sort of explanation. You throw me in a van and take me all the way… where? Some old, sorry excuse for a warehouse? This place probably hasn't been used in years - Umph!" He interrupted himself with another grunt, at the same time as a solid smack of a blow landing carried through the comms.

"Please hold on, Wyatt," Lucy managed to get out. She ran a hand over her ponytail, tugging on the end of it absently. "Warehouses…" she thought aloud.

"Smells like fish, too," Wyatt was continuing, not stopping even though his voice sounded more and more strained as he spoke, "and that open window over there isn't - ooph - isn't helping. What are we, in the shoreline district or something? I should tell you - umph!"

"Wyatt! Wyatt, stop!" Lucy begged, despite herself. "I know what you're doing, but please, don't make it worse. I… I can't let you." What she wanted to say was that she wasn't sure she could handle it, but she didn't want to actually admit that out loud, and most certainly not to Wyatt while he was in the throes of it all. She lowered her hand from her ear, where she had turned her comm off just in time to hide her sob from Wyatt.

Rufus was looking at her determinedly. "Lucy, does any of that ring any bells?" he asked, before putting a hand to his ear. "Wyatt, be strong. Just hold on until we get there." And then he tapped his ear again to close his connection. "Lucy, come on. He needs us!"

The pilot's exclamation was enough to pull her attention from where she was staring into the distance. She put a hand to her own ear, then looked Rufus in the eye. "Rufus, I… I can't."

"Can't what?"

They both winced as another series of blows sounded in quick succession, each followed by pained sounds from their friend. Wyatt's responses sounded muted, and both Lucy and Rufus had the sinking feeling that he was holding back for their sakes.

"Come on." He was encouraging her now. "I believe in you just as much as I believe in Wyatt. But we both know that he can't last in there," and he waved his hand absently in the air, as if indicating wherever Wyatt was, "at least not for very long. Did you get enough from his clues? Can we figure out where he is? I mean… the warehouse district here can't be that big! And he mentioned fish. And the sea." He was trying to stimulate her thought processes, looking at her pointedly as he spoke.

Lucy nodded quickly, her mental wheels spinning. "Okay, yeah…" Then her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "I know what Flynn must want! There… there was a fire down by the docks. Sometime late this afternoon, I think. Oh, I should have remembered! But it wasn't a big tragedy so it's not really a historical event, but that's because it was stopped!" She was rambling, her sentences tumbling end over end in her excited haste, but Rufus didn't stop her. "Right! There… there was someone who just happened to be passing by and saw the fire and called for help and it got put out in time. I mean, several buildings were still lost, and two people did die, but if that person hadn't happened to see the flames, then it might have been a huge disaster. So many people got out in time or just escaped harm at all from the fact that the fire didn't spread. Flynn must want to stop the passerby! He-"

"I don't know what you're doing, but could you hurry up?" Wyatt asked. His teammates knew he was directing his comment to them, but then another voice came through the comms.

"Shut up," the man growled from beside Wyatt. "The boss said to teach you a lesson. Now I can see why you need it."

At this point, Lucy and Rufus had stopped counting the blows they could hear.

"Uh, boss?" Wyatt panted. "That wouldn't be a tall guy, would it? The one with the accent who was at that table in the bar earlier today?"

"He found Flynn?" Rufus asked Lucy, then remembered himself and reactivated his comm's microphone. "Wyatt, you found Flynn?"

"I should have just shot him right then," Wyatt said, earning himself another punch to the gut. He bit back the cry of pain that rose up at the blow. He couldn't let the others hear just how badly this all was. He knew his teammates could hear everything, and neither of them were trained in combat. They were probably having an impossible time of it already; they would never be able to concentrate on what they needed to do if they were so worried about him. So he just swallowed and pushed past, not daring to stop and dwell on it lest he give into the waves of pain and darkness that threatened his vision.

"You do realize that he needs me alive, right?" Wyatt was grasping at straws now, but he didn't really care. If the man kept up with the routine they had been dancing thus far, Wyatt knew his ribs weren't going to last much longer. As it was, he was quite sure at least two were cracked already, and his insides had to be severely bruised. Add to that the blows he'd received to his face, and he didn't even want to think of how he would look whenever he did find a mirror.

"Eh." The goon shrugged. "He said you stuck your nose into things too much and wanted you out of the way. That doesn't sound like you have to stay alive more than I want you to."

Lucy looked desperately to Rufus. "We have to do something."

"Like what?" He frowned, his emotions playing out on his face. "Call the police and tell them we think our friend has been kidnapped and is in danger of his life in a warehouse somewhere by the docks? Even if they did believe us, which they probably won't, who knows how long it would take for them to get out there?"

Her expression told just how much she knew he was right, even though it pained her to admit it. "Okay, so what? We go find him ourselves?"

Rufus shook his head in frustration. "Well there's not much else we can do, is there?"

"But how do we get down there? We'll never make it in time if we have to walk," Lucy pointed out worriedly. "And what do we even do once we get there? I mean, it's not like either of us have Delta Force training or whatever it is that Wyatt even has. And what about the fire? How do we stop it and Flynn?"

"One problem at a time," Rufus said, glancing around while trying to collect his thoughts. "Okay. Okay. What would Wyatt do?"

Lucy watched him expectantly, her frown deepening as the seconds ticked past. "Um, Rufus?"

"I don't know!" Rufus shot back, turning wide eyes to his teammate and running a hand over the top of his head. "Lucy, I don't know! I'm blanking! I'm not Wyatt; I have no idea what he'd do!" He was pacing now, shaking his head, rubbing a hand over his face.

She stepped up to where he stood and put one hand on either side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Then don't ask what Wyatt would do. Ask yourself what you would do."

There was a brief pause as Rufus's eyes darted back and forth, studying Lucy's face even as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. Then he grinned. "All right then; let's break the law."

"We seem to be doing an awful lot of that lately," Lucy sighed, even as she followed Rufus over to the nearest parked car, a small white sedan with a missing front hubcap.

Nothing happened when Rufus tried the door handle, so after glancing around furtively, he hurried to the next closest vehicle. This time, he had better success, and the red truck's door swung open, much to both of their satisfaction.

"Keep an eye out," Rufus whispered as he ducked inside the cab.

Lucy nodded and looked nervously up and down the quiet street. A series of muffled sounds came from Rufus's direction, then a muffled thump and a quiet exclamation of pain that made Lucy jerk around in concern. "Rufus?"

"Shh, almost got it…" His response wafted out from the inside of the truck. Then he poked his head back out a moment later. "Got it! Come on; let's go!"

"Wyatt, did you hear that?" Lucy asked, putting a hand to her ear and mustering all of the hope she could manage in her question. "We're coming. Just hold on. We're coming!"

In response, there was another dull sound from Wyatt's side of the conversation. And then the comms, which had up until now been giving Lucy and Rufus an uninterrupted perspective of what was going on with their teammate, went silent. Lucy and Rufus exchanged worried glances as they realized they now had no way of communicating with Wyatt.

They would now be mounting their rescue blind. They could only hope for no surprises when they arrived.

Wyatt winced at the next blow, realizing a split second later that the man had once again unintentionally hit him in just the right spot to affect the comm in his ear. The voices in his head ceased immediately, and he could just imagine how his teammates were taking the sudden change of circumstance. Part of him was relieved; they were no longer being subjected to having to hear what was happening to him. But then there was also a twinge of something else as he realized they were no longer able to listen in. Wyatt knew that Lucy and Rufus were on their way to try to rescue him, but neither of them had any training in this sort of situation. The time Lucy had snuck in to free him, back in Nixon-era Washington, she had stumbled through the entire operation and dumb luck had been the only thing that helped her succeed. Now with the comms unusable, Wyatt would have no way to talk them through anything or warn them of any potential dangers.

Another blow impacted, this one on the side of his head, and Wyatt had no time to wonder if the goon had meant to do that because of the darkness that swallowed his vision a split second after the pain exploded in his head.

He wasn't sure how long he was unconscious, but suddenly an oddly familiar voice met his ears. Wyatt frowned, trying to place it, and made a valiant effort to open his eyes. The entire room was one big blur, strangely tinted with red. He closed his eyes and shook his head haltingly, then blinked again. This time, the room came into focus just enough for him to make out the face just inches from his own.

Flynn was certainly the last person Wyatt had expected to see, but there he was, looking slightly worried as he searched Wyatt's face. When Wyatt's eyes opened, Flynn's expression visibly softened, but for just a moment. Then, through the haze clouding his vision, Wyatt could see the look of anger that crossed Flynn's face. If it hadn't taken so much effort to just concentrate on staying awake, Wyatt would have said something. As it was, he tried, but the intake of breath needed to formulate any words sent his head spinning and he didn't get any further in his attempt.

Flynn whirled on the man standing to his left, his hand shooting out and grabbing the man's shirt collar. He bored an angry gaze into the man's eyes. "What did you do?" Flynn demanded harshly.

"We were just followin' orders! Your orders!" the man yelped, panickedly grabbing at the hand that held him. "You- you- you said to teach him a lesson!"

The other man interjected now, his hands up in a sign of surrender as Flynn turned to glare at him. "You did say these people needed to learn their lesson about interfering in your business!" he exclaimed. "And you said we needed to take care of him!"

With a shove, Flynn released the crony he was holding and growled as the man hit the wall a few steps away. "I meant they needed to learn how dangerous it was to keep poking their noses into what I'm trying to do!" he yelled. Then he sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was holding back his seething anger, and everyone in the room knew it. "Where in any of those instructions did I ever say to beat them to death?"

The two henchmen stammered for a moment before Flynn held up a hand to interrupt them. "Stop. I don't want to hear it. Both of you out."

There was a brief pause as the men looked between each other, then back to Flynn. "Uh, but, sir -" the shorter one began.

"Now."

When neither made a move, Flynn glared at them both. "Out!" Flynn roared.

That was all the two men needed before they hurried out the door, nearly tripping over each other as they went.

Flynn growled as he took in Wyatt's current state. This was the last thing he needed; he had taken extra care on previous trips not to kill or injure any of the trio chasing him unless he absolutely needed to. The time he had shot Wyatt in 1800s DC had been self-defense; he couldn't have let the other man put an end to his plans before he accomplished them - although that ended up being the case after all. If he had been shooting to kill, Wyatt would have been dead in that alley, that much was sure. And the same had been true on all of their other encounters, for even when he'd had his men strand the team in 1754, Flynn had made sure they had orders to only disable the lifeboat. He wanted to make sure they at least had a fighting chance to live out their lives at least somewhat peacefully. Of course, then Rufus had fixed the lifeboat - Flynn still had no idea how that had happened.

And now here sat Wyatt, badly beaten and looking half-dead. Flynn was going to have to look into a better way to vet his hired help from here on out. The men who came with him were never any trouble, but they were currently busy making sure no nosy citizens wandered through the warehouse district this afternoon. These other men had come recommended by the local mob boss, but Flynn no longer had any idea why. The thought of what Lucy would say flickered through his mind as he leaned down to eye level with the other man. "Wyatt?" he asked. "Can you hear me?"

Wyatt blinked at him uncertainly. He started to reply, but no words seemed to come, so he licked his lips and tried again. "...Flynn?" his voice was rough, but at least it was there.

"Yeah, it's me." Flynn couldn't help but grin wryly. He knew he was the last person the prisoner wanted to see, but Wyatt did have a completely different idea of him than was actually correct. But somehow, Flynn was certain it would be difficult to change that idea. He had tried previously in DC without success. The similarities between that occasion and this one were not lost on Flynn, but at least last time, Wyatt hadn't been severely beaten by hired goons. The only reason Wyatt had even gotten roughed up during that encounter was because he had tried to escape and forced Flynn into a fistfight. Although in Flynn's defense, he knew that Wyatt was under orders to shoot to kill; he had had to defend himself. Then he shook his head. Regardless of their past, he needed to make sure the other man wouldn't die on him right now. "How are you feeling?"

Wyatt coughed. "Like… I just got hit by a train."

"Mm," Flynn nodded. "I don't doubt it." He held up his right hand. "How many fingers?"

"Um…" Wyatt trailed off as he blinked lazily at Flynn.

"Uh uh uh. Focus," Flynn urged, raising his left hand in front of Wyatt's nose and snapping to underscore his words. "Come on. How many fingers?"

This time, Wyatt was silent for a moment as he blinked again before answering. "Four."

Flynn frowned. "Try again."

"…Two?"

"That's better," Flynn said, ignoring the obvious guess in the other man's tone. "Now," he lowered his hand, "I want you to tell me when it hurts." Based off of the other man's breathing, he suspected at least one rib was broken, but he needed to confirm it for himself. He reached forward to prod Wyatt's side, eliciting a sharp hiss as Wyatt sucked in a quick gulp of air at the slightest pressure.

The intake of breath set Wyatt to coughing, which only seemed to irritate his side more. If it was possible, his countenance grew even more ashen before he had finished. The fit left him breathless, and he grimaced as he tried to regain his breathing. Even through it all, he still managed to eye Flynn dubiously. "What do you want?" he managed to get the words out between gasps.

"What, I can't be concerned about you?" Flynn asked, spreading his hands in question. Then he shrugged at the look the other man was giving him. "Okay, so I admit I haven't always been on your side. But I can still make sure you're okay, can't I?"

Wyatt didn't answer, but he did not appear to be convinced. He looked as if he was about to say something else, but then Flynn straightened quickly, interrupting the conversation.

"Wait. Do you smell that?" Flynn turned in a circle as he sniffed the air. "That smell… Something is burning."

"I don't…" Wyatt tilted his head. "No… I smell it too. What…"

Then Flynn caught sight of the smoke that was starting to curl from underneath the door. He ran a hand through his hair and quickly crossed the room. "No, no, no. This is what I get for hiring idiots! Delayed and now look what it's cost me!" Reaching out a hand to open the door, Flynn quickly pulled back with a curse as he contacted with the hot metal of the knob. His frown deepened as he put a flat palm against the wooden door. The smoke leaking into the room was already starting to thicken, and Flynn coughed as he backed up.

This had definitely not been in his plan for the day.

"So what happens with this fire?" Rufus asked, glancing over at Lucy in the passenger seat. He was driving as fast as he dared, which was faster than he ever had before but was still somewhat reasonable. The last thing they needed right now was to get pulled over by a traffic cop. Any attempt at an explanation would not go well; Rufus just knew it.

Lucy shook her head. "Well, no one is exactly sure how the fire started, but it spread really fast. A lot of the warehouses stored flammable materials, and the weather had been dry leading up to today. Those wooden buildings were basically tinderboxes. Honestly, this fire would probably have rivaled the Great Chicago Fire if it hadn't been stopped."

"Oh." Rufus swallowed. "And Flynn wants to let it take off unchecked?"

"Well, that's my best guess," Lucy shrugged in response. She was twisting a loose strand of hair around and around her finger as she turned to gaze back out of the windshield. The distinct lack of sounds from Wyatt's comm was unsettling her; as much as she tried to think positively, fear of what could be happening to their teammate at that very moment sat in her gut like a stone.

Rufus reached over, keeping his left hand on the wheel even as he used his right to pat Lucy's shoulder. "Don't worry; we'll find him."

"I just hope we're not too late."

Flynn crossed the room to glance out the window, then quickly eliminated the option. It was too far of a drop to consider trying it, even if Wyatt had been uninjured. There was nothing to break a fall and the concrete below would unforgiving. The door was their only option for escape. He strode to the chair that Wyatt was currently occupying and squatted down beside it, pulling a knife from his pocket to cut the ropes. "Wyatt? Wyatt!" he repeated firmly, patting Wyatt's cheek as he searched the man's face. "I need you to stand up and walk out of here."

"…Why?" Wyatt asked slowly.

Flynn frowned again as he realized Wyatt was still quite disoriented. Of course this would be the one time things were actually dire. The times Flynn could have used an inactive Wyatt Logan, he had not been so fortunate. But he shrugged that aside and focused on the task at hand. Get to safety, assuage any concerns of Lucy's, and then get back to his mission. He grabbed Wyatt's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Come on. We need to go."

"'kay." Wyatt nodded slowly in concentration, but as soon as Flynn let go of his arm, he toppled forwards to the floor.

Flynn really didn't have time for this. His sarcasm took over in full force as he huffed a sigh and leaned down to help Wyatt back up. "I do have a plan to put in motion, you know!" he groused as he hauled Wyatt to his feet. "Fires to set. People to kill. Is any of this sounding familiar to you, Wyatt?"

Perhaps to his credit, Wyatt looked even more confused now. "Wha'?"

"Stay here," Flynn ordered, depositing Wyatt back in the chair. In hindsight, he supposed he didn't need to actually give the instruction. Without waiting for a reply, he hurried to the door again, coughing as the smoke reached his nose. He pulled his shirtsleeve down over his hand and covered the lower part of his face, then turned so his back was to the door. Bracing for the impact, he raised a foot and kicked it backwards, directing all of his strength into the blow. The door shuddered but didn't open, so he kicked at it again. This time, it splintered and gave, letting in a rush of hot air and smoke as it did so.

He could see the orange glow of flames from down the hall in one direction, but a glance in the other told Flynn they might be able to make it out that way. He would just have to hope so, because they didn't have much in the way of any other choice.

There was movement behind him as Wyatt limped up next to him. Flynn wasn't sure how Wyatt was still on his feet, but he wasn't going to argue with the fact. If the other man was walking on his own, however gingerly, they had a better chance of making it out of this alive. Flynn knew the history of this fire. That was why he had chosen it after all. And so he knew that if they didn't get out now, they probably never would. And where would that leave Rittenhouse if Flynn perished in a fire in the past?

Flynn stepped through the doorway and hurried for the end of the hallway, but then paused as he realized Wyatt was far behind him. Even the short distance the soldier had crossed so far had taken a toll on him, and Wyatt was barely standing, leaning heavily against the wall as he stared in Flynn's direction. He seemed to be trying to work up the strength to push back to his feet and continue on.

The heat was growing more intense and the smoke thicker by the moment, and Flynn growled in frustration. "This is the last thing I needed today," he muttered, striding back down the hallway to where Wyatt was wavering. "Come on, Wyatt. You're not dying today."

"Oh?" Wyatt coughed violently, wincing again but unable to hold back the reaction to the smoke flooding his lungs.

Hacking out his own harsh cough, Flynn grabbed Wyatt's right arm. "Sorry; this is going to hurt." He then draped the shorter man's arm over his neck, noting but choosing to ignore the grimace of pain that crossed Wyatt's face as the move stretched his side. "Let's go."

The duo then limped their way towards the exit, Flynn moving more slowly as he was supporting nearly all of Wyatt's weight. For not being an extremely large individual, Wyatt was still solidly built, and his bulk was much more than Flynn had expected. Somehow, though, they finally reached the door at the end of the hallway. Behind them, the flames were licking up the walls and down the ceiling towards them, having already passed the room where the men had been moments before.

Flynn pushed against the door with his foot, but it didn't give. He untangled himself from Wyatt's arm so that he could focus fully on getting the exit open. Wyatt teetered uncertainly in the middle of the floor, looking for all the world like he was about to pass out again, but Flynn ignored him. The problem at hand was that the door seemed to be stuck from the outside, and their only other way out was on the other side of the conflagration.

"What warehouse are they in?" Rufus yelled, slamming on the brakes as he took in the scene through the truck's windshield. The top floor of one building was nearly engulfed in flames, and smoke was starting to pour out of the windows on the far side of it as well. Each building on either side of the burning were starting to catch as well.

Lucy didn't respond. She threw open her door and leaped out, looking up and down the street in search of someone to help, but there was no one in sight. Then Lucy's wide eyes spotted a dark patch that was out of place on the concrete near the middle warehouse. She turned and gestured at Rufus, not bothering to try to formulate words before she ran for it. She was grasping at straws in hoping it was a clue to Wyatt's whereabouts. The heat from the fire reached her even before she was close enough to see what the item on the ground was, but she continued on anyway, the only thought in her mind to find her missing teammate. When she was close enough, she snatched the piece of fabric from where she had spotted it, realizing as she turned it over in her hands that it was a black cloth bag. Before she had time to try to figure out what it was doing there, she heard a banging noise from the direction of the burning warehouse that made her jump in surprise.

Muffled yelling reached her ears, even through the roaring of the flames, and she started forwards, her eyes widening as she realized there was someone trapped inside. "Wyatt?"

Then Rufus's hand was on her shoulder, and he was pulling her backwards.

"No!" she exclaimed, pulling away from his arm. "Rufus, we have to help him!"

He didn't let go. "I know, Lucy," he responded urgently. "Go call the fire department!"

"But-"

"I'll help him!" he told her. "But we need to stop this fire, and we can't do it alone. Plus, I don't want to have to tell Wyatt I let you get killed. Now go!"

She stood still for just a moment, then nodded and turned to hurry off. Rufus didn't wait to watch her go before he ran for the door of the warehouse. Intense heat radiated off of it, and immediately he felt his shirt growing wet with perspiration. Ignoring the logical part of his brain that told him to turn away, he put his arm up in front of his face and pushed on. "Wyatt? Is that you?" he yelled.

"Rufus?" That didn't sound like Wyatt.

Rufus frowned, then his eyes widened even more in recognition. "Flynn?" he yelled, thoroughly confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Not now, Rufus! Come on; can you get the door open?"

But Rufus wasn't about to let him off so easily. "Where's Wyatt?"

"Right here!" Even through the crackling of the flames, Rufus could hear as Flynn paused to cough harshly. "Now come on! The fire is getting worse!"

"Fine!" Rufus yelled back. He stepped backwards a step to get a better view of the entire door. Nothing seemed to be blocking the door itself, so he put a hand to the knob to see if he could push it open from his side. It seemed to be stuck, and he shook it roughly to try to rattle it open. "It's not opening!"

"You push, and I'll pull!"

"One! Two!" Rufus counted off loudly. "Three!"

On the final count, both men threw all of their strength into the effort. Rufus rared back and slammed his shoulder into the wooden boards, feeling the blow rumble up his shoulder and throughout his entire body. The door gave a little but still remained closed; if Rufus had to guess now, it seemed as if the heat had caused the wood to expand, wedging it tightly inside of the frame.

"One more time!" came Flynn's voice.

This time, Rufus didn't even wait for a countdown to hit the door again. He felt it give more and hit it again, the satisfaction of feeling it give being quickly replaced with slight panic as he lost his balance and went reeling inside along with the door as it swung open. He stumbled to a stop just inside the doorjamb, then looked up in the eerie glow of the flames to see Flynn and Wyatt standing in front of him. "Come on; let's go!" he yelled in urgency.

Then Wyatt's slumped stance caught his eye, and he gasped in alarm. "Wyatt! Are you okay?" He turned on Flynn as his anger rose. "What did you do to him?" he demanded.

"There's no time; let's go!" Flynn interrupted. "Let's do this later, shall we?" he asked hurriedly.

As much as he hated to admit it, Rufus knew Flynn was right. He stepped up next to the other two men and slung Wyatt's right arm over his neck as Flynn took the left. Wyatt seemed to only be clinging to consciousness by a thread, and Rufus's worry continued to grow in his stomach. Something was very wrong, and Rufus knew that what he and Lucy had heard over the comms was nothing compared to what had really taken place. But now, confronted with the aftermath of what those men had done to his teammate… If Wyatt's gun had been handy, Rufus was ready to grab it and hunt down those goons.

They ran from the building as quickly as they could manage, Wyatt's weight holding the two men back, but they still made fairly decent time. Rufus pointed ahead at the truck that was still running from where he and Lucy had left it moments before. "There!"

Flynn didn't say anything, just nodded. Without discussion, they both headed for the back of the vehicle, working together to slide the injured member of their trio onto the bed of the pickup. Rufus leaped up next to Wyatt, stripped off his jacket and balled it up, then stuffed it under Wyatt's head. Wyatt's eyes were closed and his face was pale and white, and Rufus gently slapped at his cheek.

"Come on, Wyatt. Wake up, man! You can't fall asleep right now," he urged. Then he looked back up. "Flynn-"

But the taller man had already disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" As Rufus glanced around in a futile search, he spotted Lucy running his way.

"They're almost here!" she yelled. "The fire department is on their way!" Then she got near enough to the truck to catch sight of Wyatt lying still in the back. "Oh my gosh, Wyatt!"

Rufus put a hand on the side of the truck and leaped over the edge. "Lucy, get in. We have to go."

"Is he okay?" she asked, even as she scrambled over the tailgate.

Pausing, Rufus sighed and then swung the driver's door open. "I hope so," he told her, then ducked inside the cab and threw the vehicle into gear even before his door had closed all the way.

It was the wee hours of the morning before Lucy and Rufus finally left Mason Industries. They had been absolutely adamant about staying right where they were while the doctors were patching up Wyatt, and no amount of discussion could persuade them otherwise. But finally, the doctors had said Wyatt would be fine with plenty of rest and fluids and had given him something to help him sleep for the moment. There would be a recovery process, of course, but the important part was that he would recover.

Even then, neither Rufus nor Lucy had wanted to leave, and Agent Christopher had walked into the room to find both of them nodding off on the couch next to Wyatt's bed. She had gently shaken their shoulders and urged them to go home for some much needed rest of their own. She had had to repeatedly assure them that she would call the minute anything changed before they finally gave in.

Yawning, Lucy dug in her purse for her keys as she neared her vehicle. She would be back as soon as she could, but she did have to admit she was looking forward to a nice hot shower. Rufus's car rumbled past her as he pulled out of the parking lot, and Lucy glanced his way before turning back to her own car.

"Hello, Lucy."

She jumped back at the sight of the man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to stand beside her car. "Flynn?"

He nodded and stepped closer from where he stood next to her vehicle. "How is Wyatt?"

"Why do you care?" she returned, her hand still over her chest as she tried to calm her breathing.

"I want to make sure he's okay," Flynn explained. "I didn't mean for that to happen. My men… well, let's just say they got carried away. I'm sorry for what happened, Lucy; you have to understand that."

Lucy's mouth opened and closed several times in quick succession as she tried to formulate a response.

Spreading his hands, Flynn gave her an apologetic smile. "I am sor- Ow!" His hand shot up to cover his nose as he blinked in surprise.

Her own look of surprise crossed Lucy's face as she lowered her fist, then her expression hardened in the next instant. "How dare you!" she seethed. "What, do you think saying you're sorry will just erase what you let happen?"

"Lucy-"

"Three broken ribs!" she continued, not letting him get in more than the one word. "He has three broken ribs! Not to mention a severe concussion and internal bruising. And smoke inhalation!"

Flynn lowered his hand, regarding Lucy much more cautiously now. "I have smoke inhalation."

"This isn't about you," Lucy shot back, then cocked her head to the side. "No, wait, this is completely about you. You're the reason we're even running back and forth from the past anyway! What if he had actually died because of you?"

"Lucy," Flynn started again, adopting a tone as if dealing with a small child, "it was a misunderstanding is all."

She wasn't convinced and made sure he knew it. "Uh huh."

"I might have made a couple of offhand comments that they completely misconstrued," Flynn continued, taking a small step backwards as he eyed Lucy's clenched fists that were currently balled at her sides. "I made sure things were cleared up as soon I found out, I swear." He glanced over his shoulder. "Look, I need to go before security sees me. But I am glad Wyatt is okay, even if you don't believe me."

Lucy crossed her arms as he turned to go, then cleared her throat. "Wait!" she called after him.

He paused but didn't turn, waiting for her to continue.

"I, uh, I didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but… thank you," she said. "I don't think we would have been able to get him out of that warehouse in time. So… thanks."

There was a brief pause, then Flynn nodded once, even as he kept his back to her. "You're welcome."

And then he was gone into the night.

Fin.

I have this theory that Flynn needs Lucy because of the alternate timeline from where he has her journal, so he can't afford to alienate her completely, thus his need to explain it wasn't his fault and apologize in the parking lot. And thus also his saving Wyatt, because there's no way Lucy will forgive him if that happened - and also, really, Flynn has had more than ample opportunity to kill Wyatt if he really wanted him dead.