Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless.

Flynn and Lucy develop a routine once they're in the new compound, hidden away in the Oregon wilderness. Not every night, but most nights, Lucy ends up in Flynn's room. On the floor, or the chair, or the bed, talking.

Just talking, whatever Rufus and Jiya might tease her about, or Wyatt might grumble about.

At first, she brings drinks, but after the fourth or fifth time, she drops the pretense. It's no longer about unburdening herself, or a last-ditch effort to keep control of an unhealthy impulse to drink alone. Frankly, Lucy just wants to be there. She likes Flynn, feels more herself in his presence than in her own, and well, he IS the easiest to talk to. He's her best friend—though the word friend doesn't sound like enough, not with how anchored he makes her feel or how he looks at her.

It's not romantic.

…It's not unromantic, either.

At first, back in the bunker, it was like he was a stranger who weirdly knew too much of her. Once she'd given him a chance, though, she'd been surprised at how good a listener he was, how understanding and nonjudgmental he could be. Through his focused attention and how much of himself he shares with her, she realizes part of what it is that draws her to him over and over again.

She'd thought before that Flynn was frustrated with her, trying to prove how well he knew her from the journal, trying to show her how wrong she'd been not to trust him from the start. It wasn't about proving her wrong, though, it was just…he likes knowing her, likes her. He actually wants to know her, to be her friend, wants her to let him in.

For somebody who isn't even sure she wants to know herself at this point, that is everything.

Lucy thinks that she knows him, too, or at least she's getting there. She does know the soul of him, the core of who he is better than anyone (at least anyone alive), but that's not saying a lot since pretty much everyone gets him all wrong. It happened in a reverse fashion, due to their heightened situation, and she is learning him from the inside out instead of the outside in. Flynn knows her, too, but he knows her both inside and out, thanks to their late-night talks as well as the journal. She suspects he knows even more than he lets on, but it doesn't bother her like it used to, except that she wishes it went both ways.

As much pleasure as she takes in being the only person alive allowed to know his heart, to see his vulnerable moments, she wants to know his details, too.

After the mission they had today, the scrapes and bruises she earned courtesy of Emma—plus her bruised knuckles courtesy of the blows Lucy had landed herself, she recalls with no small amount of pride—Flynn isn't surprised at the vodka bottle in her hands when she shows up for their late night chat. He smiles at her gently as he goes to sit at his desk and Lucy flops on the bed with a knowing smile at his gentlemanly ways. If he thinks she doesn't notice that he always takes the chair when there's alcohol involved, instead of his usual perch on the other side of his bed, he's wrong.

If he's surprised at how inquisitive she is, or how quickly she downs the first two glasses, he hides it well. He probably knows that something has been bothering her since she and Emma had their tussle. Emma had made a remark that got to Lucy (got her that bruise on her ribs, too, thanks to how thrown she'd been), and she HAS to know the truth. Trying to hide it in the midst of a flurry of other questions, she ends up tossing it out tipsily after he answers "what was your first pet?". It probably isn't the best way to prevent him from realizing just how important his answer is to her, but oh well.

"When you had the mothership and Emma was your pilot…"

"Yeah?" Flynn squints at her pause and change in the subject and Lucy flushes. She knows she doesn't have a right to know, but what Emma said about Lucy apparently getting her own 'taste of him' has stuck in her mind like a burr. The mental pictures and wondering have been torturing her ever since.

"Did you two ever…?"

"Did we what? Oh." His eyebrows shoot up in shock and his head snaps back as he comprehends the question. "No. NO. We did NOT." His hands join in his denial as he throws them out to the side.

"Okay." Lucy shrugs as though it was simply idle curiosity that led her to ask.

"Why…why on earth would you think we had?!" Flynn is seriously freaked out, and she ought to feel bad, but she can't. She's too full of relief.

"Just…Rufus told me about how you acted so betrayed when we went back to 1919. Then she said something today about 'getting a taste' of you, and…I don't know. I mean, you didn't know what she was. You thought she was helping you, and it would be like her…to take advantage if she thought it would help her cause."

Lucy feels the last drop of concern evaporate when he blanches at the 'taste' remark. His cheeks are pink now, rivalling her own, as she finally stops babbling and trails off into the awkward silence.

"Never mind. I'm sorry for asking, I was just curious and…I shouldn't have said anything."

Flynn runs a hand over his face. "No, Lucy, it's fine. You just caught me off guard. I had no idea you thought that. I know so much about you without this you telling me, it's not that it's too personal, it's just…I mean thank God I didn't. It never even crossed my mind, never would have, and that's setting aside all her evil psychopath tendencies."

It is so near to the tip of Lucy's tongue to ask why it didn't cross his mind…if he intends to never again…well…but she catches herself just in time. One inappropriate boundary crossed per night is probably plenty, even for her and Flynn. A giggle slips out as she watches him shakily pour a full measure of the vodka and gulp it down. He wipes his mouth as he gives her a wry smile.

"I'm going to have to drink that image out of my head now, thanks to you."

"Sorry," she scrunches her nose in apology and at the picture that's now popped back into her own mind. Too bad she didn't hit Emma harder. Or kick her. Or bite…or maybe she's getting a little overly violent now that she's getting trained in combat. But, it's Emma, so maybe not.

Flynn sighs heavily and she looks at him to see he is staring down into the glass dejectedly.

"I do need to apologize for that, though. I'm sorry."

Lucy is at sea. "Sorry for…?"

"For Emma. For…unleashing her on the present, handing her the mothership. Anthony had told me about her. Your journal didn't name her, not specifically anyway, but I had sort of lost faith. Temporarily, in you." She sits up, putting her glass down, but Flynn holds a hand up to stop her from interrupting. "Not your fault, Lucy, don't you dare say you're sorry. But that's…a different apology that I probably haven't earned the right to say yet."

Lucy feels the frown pull at her face as Flynn rakes his hand over his own. It hurts to think of him like that, but he's right that it isn't her fault, even though her default is to apologize. In some ways she wishes that she had believed him sooner, but the way he'd gone about it, and with the information she had at the time, it wasn't going to happen. All she'd gone through was probably necessary to get her here, and while here certainly isn't where she really wants to be, at least she's fighting the right people and she's not a fugitive. Not a fugitive from the government, anyway, like she would have been if she'd joined him back then. He's wrong, though, he can say whatever he wants to her now, but she's not going to demand anything. She knows he's sorry and doesn't need an apology, she doesn't think, although it might be nice to hear. She also gets that he might need to give it anyway.

"About acting betrayed…I mean, that's sort of my knee-jerk reaction, as you've experienced, unfortunately. But with Emma, I told her way too much. About Lorena and Iris, about…about you. I didn't say anything about meeting future you or about the journal, because I didn't tell any of them all about it, but I'm sure she got some idea of what it was. And my guys, they kept deserting out of the blue. I'm not sure if she paid them off, threatened them, or killed them, but one by one they were gone. Instead of seeing it, I just leaned on her more. So foolish of me."

"Why do you think you did trust her so much?"

He winces a little and finishes another glassful. "Emma's good at her job, you know that already. She had Connor, Anthony, and Rufus all fooled, too, for years. The rest of my men, other than Anthony, they were soldiers. I had to keep a distance from them. She had a story about her own family, what Rittenhouse did to them…no idea if it's true or not, but I believed her, and it gave us common ground. And then—" he bites his lip and shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What?" Lucy can't help but push. It feels too important.

Flynn traces the rim of his empty glass before pouring again. He knocks it back before licking his lips and mumbles something she can't hear. Lucy scoots off the bed and hops up on the desk, bumping his knee on her way and staring down at his head, slightly lower than hers as he's in the desk chair. "You weren't there," he finally mutters.

Lucy tilts her head in confusion. "I know, that's why I'm asking—"

"No, I talked to Emma…" his cheeks are bright pink as he slowly explains, staring at her shins. "…because you weren't there."

"Oh." Lucy's own cheeks flush as she realizes he means he wished she had been there, maybe even missed her, and she feels touched and a little guilty at that. Her heart hammers as she recognizes that this is the closest he's come to admitting…whatever it is he might admit to her, one day, about how he feels.

It's also heartbreaking, how lonely he must have been, that his best friends in the world were a book from a virtual stranger and freaking Emma Whitmore.

After a breath to compose herself, she takes her leg and nudges his knee gently until he finally looks up at her, cheeks still a bit pink.

"I'm here now."

"You are," Flynn says, and his gaze turns tender.

"We can talk about whatever you want."

"Yeah? Even if it's to give you apologies you claim not to need?"

"Anytime," she smiles and feels it widen as he beams at her like she has hung the moon, and it makes her feel like maybe she could. "Maybe one per night, though."

"Hmm. If you agree to only one loaded question per night, it's a deal."

Looking up at the ceiling, she laughs. "I'll get started on my list, then."

His brow furrows as she looks back to him. "List? How many loaded questions do you have for me?"

Her lips twitch as she tilts her head. "How many loaded things did I tell you in the journal?"

Flynn's look turns shy as it flicks away and her heart squeezes. "A lot, I guess. It's not like I…counted."

Lucy takes pity on him. He's been so vulnerable with her tonight, and she's grateful enough not to press her advantage. Well, not too much. "It's a deal then." She grabs the vodka bottle from his hand. "And I'm going to take this, I think you've had enough. I'm going to bed." Placing a hand on his left shoulder, she hops off the desk. He reaches up a hand to steady her by the elbow as she wobbles. Her hand squeezes his shoulder and she feels his hand tighten on her arm, as they look at each other for a tense moment that she almost wants to stay in. Almost.

"Goodnight," she pulls away and heads to the door, feeling his warm gaze still on her.

"Goodnight, Lucy."