Inhale…
Exhale…
Inhale…
Exhale…
That was the mantra Lucy recited to herself over and over again. Without that constant reminder, she was certain that her lungs would cease to function on their own, that her body would simply…simply give out. And that, well, Lucy could not—would not—let that happen; she refused to.
Inhale…
Exhale…
She turned her focus to the hand entwined with her own, tenderly grazing her thumb across his knuckles before ghosting her lips on the bruised and broken flesh. It was unnerving for Lucy to have his hand be so still, so…weak. From the moment she'd met him, Garcia's strength had been evident to her, even palpable. Yet it was beyond just physical power. So much more than physical. Even at his darkest moment, utterly alone, beaten and down on his hands and knees, he still was able to claw his way up and move forward. Blow after blow had been inflicted, but this force of a man would not relent. And if his own weight wasn't enough to bear, he helped carry hers, refusing to let her crumble, no matter how desperately she wanted to at times. Exhaustion ravaged her, but for him, Lucy would muster every drop of strength Time hadn't yet taken from her.
Inhale…
Ex-
The hollow sound of knuckles meeting wood broke her silent repetition. Lucy closed her eyes, willing whoever was on the other side to wander back to where they belonged.
Anywhere but here…
A few beats of silence passed, and Lucy was hopeful that maybe just once the universe was on her side. However, that illusion was shattered by another knock.
"Lucy?"
At the sound of that voice, Lucy inhaled sharply, feeling her jaw clench. She swallowed slowly, fighting back the bitterness on her tongue.
"Not now, Wyatt."
"Lucy, I-…"
"I said not now, Wyatt," Lucy interjected, barely managing to maintain her previously neutral tone.
Barely a full beat passed before the door slowly opened, the aged hinges shattering the measly amount of tranquility the room had offered. Inwardly, Lucy rolled her eyes. She should've known better than to assume that he would listen to her request. Once the soldier set his mind to something, it was near impossible to sway him otherwise. She heard his heavy footfall end directly behind her seat, but she refused to break her gaze from Garcia's near motionless body.
"It's been four days, Lucy."
She nodded in acknowledgement. "And tomorrow will make five. Then the day after that will be six. I learned how to count at fairly young age, Wyatt," Lucy smarted. "I don't need your help on that."
A harsh sigh escaped the soldier. "You can't keep on like this, Luce."
"Like you've said, it's been four days, and I'm still functioning, so…"
"Lucy, you haven't left this room even once. I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for the fact you have a bathroom in here, you wouldn't even have showered. I'm not saying you have to leave for hours on end, but at least walk around a bit. Get somethin' to eat. Y'know, just a few moments to regroup. Take a breather."
"No," Lucy shook her head, inching closer to the bed. "I want him to hear my voice, to know I'm right here beside him. That I'm not going anywhere."
"Luce, I doubt he knows either of us are here right now. A few minutes for yourself isn't gonnna hurt anything."
A small part of Lucy knew that Wyatt was, in his own way, trying to be a comfort and appreciated the attempt, poorly executed though it was. However, the larger part of her simply wanted him to shut up and just leave them in peace.
"Wyatt…" she sighed, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. "I'm fine, alright? Just go back to whatever it was you were doing. We're fine."
Taking another small step forward, Wyatt put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Flynn would want you t-…"
In the blink of an eye, Lucy jerked her body away and was on her feet. "Don't you dare even pretend you know what Garcia would want," she hissed, the intensity of her glare causing Wyatt to take several steps back. "From the very beginning you have despised him, and no matter what he's gone through, despite all the changes he's made, you still steadfastly refuse to think of him as anything but a traitor. Even after what he did for you! So, don't act like you know and care about him. Just. Don't!"
"Lucy," Wyatt gave a faint shake of his head, "it's not exactly like that anymore. Yeah, we're not friends, but it's not like I wish him dead. But you've been holed up in here since day one, and I'm worried 'bout you. I'm honestly just trying to help."
Gripping Flynn's hand tighter, she shook her head, sniffing dismissively. "No offense, but the last thing I need or want right now is your help, Wyatt."
A terse moment passed as Wyatt took in Lucy's words, mulling them over. A thought struck him, and he suddenly narrowed his eyes at her. "Are… are you seriously blaming me for what went down on that mission? For what happened to Flynn?" he scoffed, incredulous at the idea.
"I never said that I blamed you, Wyatt," Lucy replied, the intensity in her eyes never waning. He could make whatever conclusions and be offended all he wanted, but she wasn't going to cower at his sudden change in attitude.
"Maybe not directly," he crossed his arms, "but that's exactly the vibe you're giving off, Lucy," he countered hotly.
Lucy closed her eyes, taking a few centering breaths. "You should leave now, Wyatt."
It was taking valiant effort for Lucy to keep herself in check. True, Wyatt was her friend, and out of respect for that friendship, she was desperately trying to hold back from screaming the words that she had wanted to the second she'd gathered Flynn's fallen body into her arms, his blood staining her skin as she cried out his name in fear and agony.
"No," Wyatt replied defiantly, doing the exact opposite of what she'd asked and encroaching further into her sphere. "I'm not gonna let you twist this around and let you resent me for making the choice I did. This is not my fault. She's my wife, Lucy! Did you really want me to turn my back on her when she finally saw Rittenhouse for what they were? After I fought so hard to get through to her? To get her to come home? You would deny me and Jessica that chance?"
Those fateful words had no sooner fallen off his tongue then Lucy felt the entire world around her come to a complete standstill. The air became charged, and she felt a simmering heat through her veins. Slowly, she opened her eyes, the expression in them rooting Wyatt to the ground.
"Deny you the chance?" Lucy repeated softly, a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. "And which chance would that be, Wyatt? 'Cause really, there's been so many, I'm sorta at a loss about which one you're referring to. Out of every single one of us, you've had the most chances. And all of us have made excuses for your selfish behavior and overlooked all your crap because we wanted you to have the 'miracle' you've been desperate for all these years. And when you got yet another chance at having Jessica back, we supported you again. In fact, the only reason Garcia is clinging to life right now is because he took a bullet to the back providing cover for your wife and unborn child. So forgive me if the last thing I want to do is leave Garcia's side when there's a good chance that once again your happiness has come at the expense of mine!"
Every pent-up emotion was finally breaking through her long-held constraints. Her breaths were rapid and the heat in her veins was now a fiery blaze. She saw Wyatt attempt to respond, but she halted him before he could even form a syllable.
"No," she held up her hand, "I have listened and catered to everyone else—Rufus… Jiya… you… But, it's my turn to talk now. I have pushed aside my feelings countless times, all so I could be the Lucy you all needed and expected me to be. But he," she pointed to Garcia, barely suppressing the sobs choking her throat, "is the only one who refused to let me disappear. He saw me—not the person I wanted everyone else to see. He doesn't expect me to be Historian Lucy or Journal Lucy. Doesn't want me to put on some façade just to make his life easier. He just wants me…the person I am in this moment. And the very idea that I may never see those eyes looking back at me… it takes everything I have to not break down, to not fall to my knees and cry till there's nothing left inside of me."
The young man just stood there in shock, intently observing Lucy, actually seeing her for the first time in… well…ever, if he was being completely honest with himself. The sudden sheen in Lucy's eyes pricked his conscience, and he remained silent, realizing she wasn't finished purging her soul.
Feeling hot tears threatening to let loose, Lucy took her free hand and pressed its heel into her eyes, refusing to let them break free and show the depth of her sorrow. Turning her gaze back to Flynn, Lucy pressed on. "It's not... it's not as if this is some sort of choice, Wyatt. Me being here. It's a necessity. He's here, so I'm here. Where I belong. Time and the universe can burn to the ground for all I care, but I am not leaving his side. So, please… if you have even an ounce of genuine friendship for me, please… don't ask me to leave the one person I don't know how to live without."
What felt like an interminable silence passed between the two. Lucy waited for some form of rebuttal, some protest on Wyatt's part. However, she was immensely grateful when he simply nodded his head in acquiescence.
"Anything I can do for you before I go? Anything you need? Anything at all?"
Swallowing harshly, Lucy looked down at the object of her affection, smoothing back his unruly hair as she shook her head faintly.
"I just need him to come back to me," she admitted softly, once again sniffing back those traitorous tears.
Seeing Lucy in such obvious pain, reminded Wyatt of the moment he'd learned of Jessica's death; and in that moment, he fully understood the depth of her feelings for the man. She was completely, irrevocably in love with Garcia Flynn. Wyatt realized that right now, with the Flynn's life precariously hanging in the balance, Lucy was gutted at the prospect of losing him. He knew from firsthand experience that level of anguish, and he felt immense guilt at the realization that he had contributed to her suffering, in more than just one way. And he had been shamed and humbled by the truths Lucy had thrown at his feet. No denying it, he had fought Flynn tooth and nail on all fronts, never making it a secret that he held him in contempt. Yet, despite that, Flynn had come to Wyatt's aid and literally put himself in the crossfire to protect his family. Wyatt owed the man everything. The very least he could do was, for once, leave the couple in peace.
As Wyatt turned and began to walk to the door, relief flooded Lucy's body, her knees gave way, and she fell to her seat. Just before he stepped out of the room, Wyatt turned slightly back towards her.
"I truly hope he wakes up, Lucy."
Whirling her head around, Lucy's eyes flittered over Wyatt's face, gauging his sincerity, determining if this was just some hollow offer to placate her. But as she studied his countenance, Lucy realized that he meant every word. She offered a soft smile in thanks, one which he returned in kind. And without another word, Wyatt quietly closed the door behind him.
Once again, it was just Lucy and Garcia.
Inhale…
Exhale…
Though she was sitting directly beside him, Lucy felt there was too much distance between them. Rising to her feet, she walked over to the empty side and gently crawled into the bed, wrapping her arm around his waist, resting her head against his chest.
"I'm right here, Garcia," she whispered, gently placing a kiss over his heart. "I'm right here."
AN: Okay...listen... It's been over a year since I have written anything, and the first time I have ever written for this fandom. So...this is probably on a whole other level of crappy. Please don't crucify me. I'm trying to get my feet wet again because I really miss writing. Again...I'm not thrilled with this, but I figured I should just dive into the deep end. If you like it, let me know. If not, well... I can't say I blame you. If this doesn't totally bomb, I may write a conclusion, but...that's up in the air.