Wyatt didn't know what the hell he was doing. Before he had even entered the bunker, he knew he was making a huge mistake. Despite everything, despite the fact that his most desperate wish had somehow, miraculously come true - that his wife, who had been dead for six years, was now suddenly alive, standing beside him - he knew, deep down, that this was not right. At least, bringing her to the bunker wasn't right – he wasn't quite sure how he felt about everything else.

Not yet.

Lucy had told him to work things out with Jessica. Lucy had told him not to be sorry, but he was.

He had finally decided to let go, move on – move on with Lucy, and then the unthinkable happened. Jessica texted him and his entire world was flipped upside down. How many times had he tried to save her? How many times had he hoped to change the past? What the hell happened in 1941 to cause this? Why did it have to happen right after he and Lucy….well, he didn't want to think about that right now…what was more pressing was what he was going to say to Lucy - to the entire team when he opened the door to the bunker and waltzed Jessica through the door. The awkwardness alone was enough to make anyone say this was a bad idea, but they were in that damn bunker for a reason and OPSEC dictates that you don't just bring your suddenly undead wives into your top-secret base of operations.

What the hell am I doing?

Slowly, quietly, he and Jess made their way into the bunker.

"This is where you work?" asked Jessica skeptically.

Wyatt wasn't really listening to her, his mind was focused on how he was going to introduce Jessica to Lucy, to the team – what would they think? More importantly – how would Lucy feel?

I am an idiot.

But Lucy had told him to figure things out. Granted, he was pretty damn sure she hadn't meant for him to bring his once dead wife into their shared living space, but what the hell could he do? After she had flashed him those divorce papers, his pride had taken a massive blow. He had been an uncaring husband, she had said…more absent than present in their marriage and he had nothing to defend himself with. Their memories of the past six years were different. In his timeline, she had been dead and he had done nothing but live with the regret of losing her, of being partially responsible for her untimely demise. In hers, he had not appreciated her, their marriage, any of it. If the last six years had taught him anything, it was not to take things for granted and so now, with a chance to make up for past mistakes and years of guilt and regret, how could he not jump at the opportunity he now had for a second chance?

How could something he wanted for so long, feel like it was tearing him in two?

He couldn't think about that right now…right now, he had to make Jessica see.

Jessica would NEVER believe in Time Travel and different timelines if he didn't show her. No, he needed to do this – he needed her to prove to her that he hadn't been the uncaring, drunken jackass she had come to know in their marriage. He had to redeem himself – after six years of mourning her death and blaming himself, he could not just walk away and nottry to make things better. Besides, didn't Jessica deserve that? Didn't she deserve to know that the husband she had known for six years was a far cry from the man who now stood beside her? That his world had fallen apart when her strangled body had been found on the side of the road? That from that moment he had become even more reckless than he had been, that he had stopped caring, that he had given up on ever finding love again.

Until Lucy.

Oh hell, this was a very, very bad idea.

His anxiety built with each and every step he took into the further recesses of the bunker. The echo of their combined footfalls sounded like a death knell, marking the bitter end of his oh too short relationship with Lucy. Which, now that he took in their surroundings, was unusual. He should not just be hearing the heavy tread of his boots as he made his way down the corridor. He paused momentarily. There was no bustle, no clanging of tools against metal, no peals of laughter, no anything…it was just quiet. His heart caught in his throat and his feet seemed to move of their own accord when he suddenly realized the reason for the discomforting silence. Turning the corner, he felt as though all of the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room as he stared at the large open and empty space that housed the LifeBoat.

It was gone.

Shit.