Amy Preston's sister went missing in 2016. Two years later, down on her luck and having a miserable day, she meets a handsome stranger who proves to be a lifesaver in more ways than one, who tells her an impossible story - and offers her a choice that changes her whole life.
Jiya Marri has never fully understood her visions, and when given the chance to save the life of the man she loves, she failed. So when visitors from another timeline show up, battered journal in hand, and tell her there's a way she (and only she) can still save Rufus...well, what has she got to lose?
Lucy Preston has lost everything. When she's finally given back one of the most important things in her life, she's determined to keep that safe. But this new journal is recounting events that never happened, things not yet come to pass, and as keepers of the journal, she and Flynn know something is very, very wrong...they just aren't sure what.
A story of past, present, and future intertwined, of infinite universes, of choices to go left instead of right - and all the consequences that go along with that choice.
PARALLEL LINES
Amy isn't sure who is getting more sick of hearing from the other - her, or Agent Christopher.
"I'm sorry, Amy. We still don't have any news."
"Of course you don't," Amy mumbles, sighing as she pinches the bridge of her nose. Agent Christopher had never been particularly forthcoming with information about Lucy's whereabouts over the past few years since she disappeared, citing "Need to know, classified, security clearance" and other assorted bullshit excuses that allowed her to tell Amy exactly zero real information.
And yet, Agent Christopher always sounded sincere when Amy spoke with her, as if she was equally invested in finding Lucy, even two years down the line with zero leads. It's far more dedication than she'd have expected from the government, as if the woman was personally invested in Lucy's safe return from wherever she had gone.
"Amy, I promise the moment we hear anything new, you're the first one I'll call."
"Sure. Thanks." She hangs up before Agent Christopher has a chance to say anything further, her frustration at being stonewalled yet again easing her guilt at being so blatantly rude, and she stares down at her phone for a moment, at the photo in the background of her lockscreen. Her, Lucy and mom all smiling together at a gala where Carol had been receiving a lifetime achievement award. She could still remember her mother, radiant and still in good health, looking warmly down at her daughters as she cited them as her "greatest achievement, above all else".
Lucy's wide smile in the photo is a stark contrast with the last time Amy had seen her sister's face, as Lucy crossed the lawn toward a fleet of government vehicles and turned back to look at her one last time with fearful uncertainty.
The loss of Lucy, as confusing and mysterious as the circumstances surrounding it were, was incredibly painful. The subsequent loss of her mother six months later, as her cancer finally took its toll on her frail body, had shoved the knife deeper into the wound. She'd done her best to persevere regardless - what else could she do? Thankfully her mother's ample life insurance had covered the remainder of the mortgage on the house, which solved one problem for her, but she was finding it a struggle to cover all the other bills on her meager coffee shop salary. Not exactly the most lucrative work, nor the most stimulating, but her sociology degree hadn't gotten her very far in the already weak job market, and not many businesses looked favorably on "podcasting" as recent work experience.
She's tired. Physically, sure, but if she's being honest, she's just grown tired of the purposeless, day-to-day monotony. Pulling double shifts virtually every day left her unable to indulge in any of her creative pursuits, and on the rare days off that she got, she found herself sleeping most of the day. She misses her best friend. Misses her so badly her heart breaks every day all over again, as she wakes up and realizes the last two years weren't just a bad dream and she is, in fact, alone in the world. Over and over again.
Her life has become a miserable loop.
She shoves her phone into her pocket and heads back outside to her car to retrieve her shopping bags that she'd been too tired to carry into the house earlier that day. She hates how little energy she seems to have anymore. Can't even carry groceries into the house because the trip is exhausting, what a load of crap. She's only 28 and yet lately she's started to feel like she's 80.
As she turns to head back to the door, the bottom falls out of one of her bags, and she closes her eyes and takes a calming breath as she hears her carton of eggs slam to the pavement in a sticky wet mess, closely followed by half of her fruits and vegetables. She watches apples roll down the slope of the driveway toward the sidewalk and fights back the tears that are trying to escape. Come on Amy, you're stronger than this, it's just eggs.
She takes a shaky breath and kneels down to collect the remainder of her food that hadn't rolled away to freedom, and has half of it gathered into her arms when she looks after her rogue apples and sees a car abruptly speed by, crushing them all beneath the tires. She blinks, staring at them, then sinks into a sitting position on the driveway, her back against the car, and drops her head in her hands.
So this is her life now. Done in by crushed apples.
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
She looks up quickly as she hears the voice to her right and sees a man kneeling next to her with one of the apples in hand. He holds it out to her, and not knowing what else to do, she takes it from him and turns it over idly in her hands.
"I'm gonna take a wild guess that you're having a rough day," he says, a small grin creasing the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. She just nods in response. "Need a hand with your groceries?"
The unexpected kindness causes an ache in her chest, reminding her of just how long it had been since she'd last had any human interaction outside of handing coffees to hurried, angry strangers who more often than not didn't even acknowledge her. She finally returns his smile. "Oh, that's okay, I'm just crying over spilled milk." She looks down at the mess on the pavement in front of her. "Or spilled eggs, I guess."
"We all have off days, ma'am." He stands and holds out a hand to her, and she takes it as she too gets to her feet and brushes the dirt off the back of her jeans, only now feeling a rush of embarrassment. "Seriously, let me give you a hand with this stuff."
She opens her mouth to protest again, then closes it again and nods gratefully. She's perfectly capable of carrying a few bags into the house, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't a welcome change of pace to have someone help her out for once. She lifts a few bags and heads toward the front door, the kind stranger following close behind with considerably more bags in his hands.
"I'm Amy, by the way," she says, holding the front door open for him. He glances around the foyer briefly before she gestures down the hall toward the kitchen, which he immediately heads for. "I didn't catch your name," she calls after him, closing the door.
"Wyatt Logan," he says, smiling again as he sets the bags on the kitchen island, and he dusts his hands off on his jeans before holding one out to her. "Good to meet you, Amy."
She shakes his hand, meeting his eyes briefly. Something about the man feels almost familiar, safe, which of course is ridiculous as she's never met him before in her life. And somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she should be more concerned about letting a total stranger into her house, but she can't quite bring herself to feel uncomfortable around him. Between his baby blue eyes and sandy brown hair, he hardly looks threatening, though she knows that doesn't realistically mean anything, and she definitely caught sight of his ample biceps that were riddled with scars while he carried in her bags.
He disappears briefly to retrieve the rest of her bags from the car, and she puts things away into the cupboards, pausing to put the kettle on the stove. As soon as he returns she asks him, "Can I make you a cup of tea? Just as thanks."
He grins again. "Sure, sounds great." He slides onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and watches as she busies herself preparing two mugs. "This is a pretty nice place you have here, ma'am. Live alone?"
"Yeah," she says, dropping a tea bag into each mug. "Didn't always, but...now I do."
"Oh?"
She turns back and sets a mug down in front of him, then leans against the edge of the counter and blows gently on her tea to cool it. "This is actually my mom's place." She looks down briefly. "Well. Used to be, anyway."
"That's cryptic."
Amy shrugs. "My mom passed away a few years ago."
"Sorry to hear that." Unlike most people who said those words to her, he looks sincerely sympathetic. "I saw a photo in the hall on the way in - I'm guessing that was your mom?"
She knows the one. "Yeah. And my sister, Lucy."
"Does she live nearby?"
Amy swallows the lump in her throat. "No...she used to live here, but...not anymore. She, uh...went missing, actually." Before he can offer even more condolences (she's not sure if she can handle more of it at this point, especially because it would mean admitting to herself that Lucy is gone for good), she asks wryly, "So what's with the 'ma'am' thing? I've gotta be younger than you."
He chuckles softly. "It's a military thing."
"Military?" she repeats, impressed. "You don't seem like the military type."
That makes him laugh. "What does the military type look like?"
"Grim? Angry?" She's laughing as well now, taken off guard by the question. "Honestly, I'm talking out of my ass, I have no idea."
Wyatt raises an eyebrow, that charming half smile back on his face. Amy blushes. He's not her usual type by a long shot, but that doesn't make him any less easy on the eyes.
"I'm retired Delta Force, actually. Master sergeant."
"No idea what any of that means, but it sounds impressive."
"Kind of like the Navy SEALS, only a lot less water."
She laughs. "Less water, more sand?"
"Something like that." He tips the mug and downs the last of his tea, then sets it back on the counter and gets to his feet. "I'd better head out. I hope your day gets better. It was really nice to meet you, Amy."
"You too, Wyatt." She's blushing again. This is stupid. Proximity to an attractive man shouldn't affect her this much. Then again, it had been a while since she'd gotten to know someone new, let alone how long it had been since...other things had happened. As he turns to leave, she takes a quick step after him. "Wait." He stops abruptly and looks back at her, and the blush only gets worse as she stammers, "Did you, uh...maybe want to grab a drink later?" She quickly adds, "Totally okay if it's no, just thought I'd ask, you know, just as a thank you-"
"That sounds nice, actually."
Well, that's a welcome change of pace, things going her way for once. "Great." She hunts for a scrap of paper somewhere on the messy counter, then eventually tears the corner off one of the overdue utility bills on the fridge before scribbling down her number. "Maybe at Finnegans downtown? We could meet at 8:00-ish?"
"Why don't I swing by around 8:00 and pick you up?"
"Oh...sure. Yeah, sure, that sounds great." She smiles, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear.
"Perfect." He gives her one final million dollar grin and punctuates it with a wink. "See you at 8:00, Amy."
She's in the dining room downing a shot of vodka for liquid courage when she sees a car pull up in front of the house, and she quickly hurries to gather her jacket and purse (really, it's more of a functional satchel - her sister was always the more fashion obsessed one). As she crosses the lawn toward the car she sees Wyatt lean across the passenger seat to push the door open for her and she slips into the seat next to him, wincing as the door slams shut just slightly too hard. "Sorry," she mumbles, but thankfully he just waves off her concern.
He looks slightly more nervous now than he did earlier in the day, which she supposes is...promising? In a way? At least she's not the only one.
"So, where are you from?" She's already mentally kicking herself before she's finished her sentence. She loathes small talk and has no idea why she's trying to make it, except perhaps to break the silence that Wyatt doesn't seem inclined to break himself.
"Texas," he says, not looking away from the road.
"Really? But you don't have an accent."
That gets her a glance from the corner of his eye. "Not every texan has an accent. But I moved away when I was pretty young."
"Where to?"
"San Diego." He grins at her surprised expression. "Yeah, I know. Guess I wasn't much of a country boy. How about you?"
"Born and bred San Francisco resident for life. And yeah, I'm aware how boring that is. I travelled in my early twenties a lot, much to my mom's chagrin - she wanted me to start university right after high school, like my sister."
"Bit of a rebel, I gather?"
Amy laughs. "Mom would definitely say so, but I'd say it was more like...mom had impossibly high standards that no one could ever hope to live up to. Didn't stop Lucy from trying, though. I pushed her to break away, do her own thing for once, but all she ever wanted was to live up to mom's legacy." She looks down at her bag in her lap, one hand playing idly with the zipper. "For all the good it did her." After a beat she looks over at Wyatt and forces a weak smile. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," he says kindly. "Your sister sounds like...quite the woman."
"She was." Amy winces at her own words. It's the first time she's referred to Lucy in the past tense. Part of her has always held out hope that Lucy was somewhere out there in the world living her best life, but that part got smaller and smaller as the months went by.
What an inopportune moment to realize you're giving up hope.
They reach the pub a few short minutes later, and this time Wyatt dashes around the car to open the door for her. She murmurs a quiet thanks and follows him into the crowded bar, the noise hitting them all at once as the door opens. The general atmosphere is one of high spirits, with plenty of loud conversations interspersed with laughter. It's been a very, very long time since Amy last went out, and a smile creeps on to her face as she edges through the crowd, Wyatt a few steps ahead of her.
They find a quiet corner of the bar (or quiet relative to the overall noise, anyway) and claim a small table, and Amy seats herself as Wyatt heads to the bar to grab them drinks. She glances around at the other patrons, still smiling, soaking in their vibrant energy. She'd always been an extrovert (ever the opposite of her sister), and right now she feels a bit like she's been sleeping for years and just woke up.
She's still looking out over the crowd when something catches her eye. Or someone, to be more precise. A red-haired woman with legs for days is seated at the edge of the bar, leaning back casually in her seat and smirking as she looks back at Amy. Amy swallows, her cheeks burning; she's fully aware of how average looking she is (and she knows if Lucy was there, she'd smack her upside the head for that thought), and to catch the eye of two gorgeous people in one day is...odd, to say the least. Just as she's debating whether or not to approach the woman (even just to ask "Why are you staring at me?"), Wyatt reappears with two beers in hand, and he hands her one as he takes a seat next to her.
They make small talk a bit longer before Wyatt goes quiet, glancing out at the crowd with an expression as if he's mustering the courage for something. He picks idly at the label on his beer, then takes a final swig of it before turning back to her. "Listen, Amy, I haven't been...entirely up front with you."
She raises an eyebrow, her body tensing. That could mean anything, but she was starting to get an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How so?"
"It wasn't just a coincidence that I happened by your house today. I actually...well, I know your sister."
The awful feeling turns into a full blown wave of nausea. A million scenarios are running through her head of how he could know Lucy, very few of them good, and she swallows. "How, exactly?"
He seems to sense her building trepidation and tries to put her fears to rest with another smile, but this time it does nothing to ease her nerves. She grips her bag on the seat next to her, tense, unsure what's coming next.
"We work together. Sort of."
The way he words it isn't entirely lost on her. "Work," she repeats, her heart beating faster in her chest. "Not 'worked'?"
"Yeah." His smile gets wider. "As in, presently."
Her heart is absolutely hammering now. "She's alive?" she whispers, eyes wide, and Wyatt nods.
"Alive and well."
"Where is she? Does she know you're here? Is she...is she coming home?" She rattles off questions one after the other, not allowing him any room to respond, and he laughs, grinning at her frantic queries.
"Hey, hey, slow down. She's safe. She can't come home, unfortunately, not yet anyway. And no, she doesn't know I'm here."
That's interesting. And possibly concerning. "Why are you here?" she finally asks, and Wyatt sighs.
"I could tell you, but it's probably easier if I show you." He stands up from the table and hands her the key fob for the car. "Meet me outside, I'll settle our tab and be right out."
Amy nods and makes her way back through the crowd, heading for the door. She glances briefly once more in the direction of the bar, to where the redhead had been sitting, and finds the space empty. Guess she wasn't that interested.
She abruptly bumps into someone and quickly faces forward once more, her mouth open to apologize, until she looks at the person she bumped into. Hazel eyes. Red hair.
"Hey there," the woman murmurs, drawing close to her, and Amy freezes in place, staring silently and not quite sure what to say. She swallows and opens her mouth to say hello, and immediately feels something pressed against her stomach. Wait, is that…?
She's about to look down when the woman seizes her arm roughly and swaps positions to stand just behind her shoulder. Yes, she's certain now.
The gorgeous redhead has a gun to her back.
Fuck fuck shit fuck what is going on-
"Listen carefully, sweetheart," the woman murmurs softly in her ear. "We're going to walk out of here, calmly and quietly. And if you say anything, make any sudden moves, do anything other than silently put one foot in front of the other, I will put a bullet through your spine. Are we clear?"
Amy nods slightly, afraid to move her head too much, and moves forward as instructed, painfully aware of the cold metal pressed against her back and the hand tightly gripping her right arm. She glances at the people they pass and not one meets her panicked eyes, and they quickly reach the front door without attracting any attention whatsoever.
Her ears are still ringing from the noise inside when the door shuts loudly behind them, leaving them in relative silence on the deserted street. She still has the key fob gripped tightly in her hand, and so far it seems like her captor hasn't noticed. The woman pauses a moment, looking up and down the street, then leads them up the road. "Back alley will work, I guess."
Amy has to suppress a noise of fear that fights to escape her throat. She's never even seen this woman before, let alone done anything to her - why was she threatening her?
They've reached the mouth of the alley when Amy finally takes a steadying breath.
Now or never.
She squeezes the keyfob and immediately the car alarm goes off down the road, catching her captor's full attention for half a second.
Half a second is all she needs.
Amy whirls around and drives a fist into the woman's jaw as she's turning back to her, immediately following it up with kick to the stomach to knock her back off her feet. Unfortunately her attacker keeps her balance, but it gives Amy enough time to shove past her and run toward the bar, just as Wyatt finally appears. It takes him a second to spot her sprinting toward him and he gives her an odd look before noticing the distant figure further up the street.
"She's got a gun!" Amy shouts as she nears Wyatt, and she grabs his arm while she continues to run. Or attempts to continue to run, as Wyatt plants himself firmly in place and she ends up skidding to a stop. "What are you doing?! We need to call the police!"
"Get down," he tells her firmly, ushering her to the front of the car quickly and crouching next to her, and then there's a gun in his hand as well, because why wouldn't there be? She wonders for a second if the whole day has just been one long nightmare, a thought that is quickly dashed out of her head as Wyatt fires a round up the road.
"Where did you-" She trails off as she remembers he's ex-military. Of course he'd have a concealed carry license. She's never been much of a fan of the military, but right about now she's never been more thankful for lax gun laws. He ducks back beside her as the woman returns fire, and Amy finally allows herself a panicked shriek, covering her head with her arms. She feels Wyatt squeeze her shoulder firmly, just enough to get her attention, and looks up at him as he shoves the keys into one of her hands.
"When I say go, you're going to get in the car and start it, fast as you can. Are we clear?" She doesn't respond immediately, and he repeats somewhat more firmly, "Are we clear?" She jumps at his sharp tone and nods frantically. His confidence is reassuring, but only just. He waits for a pause in the gunshots, then loudly hisses, "Now!"
She jumps to her feet and is at the driver's side door in less than a second, fumbling with the key fob to unlock the car. Wyatt is firing his gun up the street again as she slides into the driver's seat, and he quickly jumps into the passenger seat next to her as she turns the key to start the engine.
"Drive!" he shouts, leaning halfway out the door to return fire while she floors it, and it's only once his clip is empty that he collapses back into the seat and pulls the door shut. He's taking deep breaths, eyes closed.
And then he laughs.
"Why are you laughing?!" she shrieks, driving randomly in the absence of a better plan. He looks over at her, still grinning and catching his breath.
"I'm impressed, Amy. It's not every day Emma gets her ass handed to her by a civilian."
She has no idea what to make of...well, anything he said, really, but she does feel a stab of pride that she'd managed to impress someone who is clearly better at this than her. "I have a black belt. Karate."
"Lucy never mentioned. But I definitely believe it."
He says it so offhand, so casually, she finds herself believing that he knows her sister (or perhaps just wants to believe him). Either way, she relaxes back into the seat and lets her foot off the gas a little. "Where are we going?"
"Head for the docks."
"What's at the docks?"
He reaches into his pocket and produces what she assumes is a fresh clip and slides it into his gun before tucking it back into his concealed shoulder holster. "You may not believe me until you see it."
"Try me."
"Alright." He retrieves his phone from his pocket and swipes through it as he continues talking. "I'm sure you remember that night two years ago when Homeland Security showed up to haul Lucy off. That same night they came and hauled my ass in too. It was for a top secret project, advanced technology from Mason Industries that was stolen, and they needed us to retrieve it and for me to...take out the thief."
She can certainly make a guess at what 'take out' refers to. "Is that why Lucy's been missing? Is she still on that project? Is that why that woman attacked me?"
"Yes and no." He finally finds what he's looking for on his phone, and holds it up for Amy to look at while they're stopped at a red light. She glances at it, brow furrowed. It's some sort of blueprint for what looks like a pod of some kind, stamped in the corner with the Mason Industries logo and a large TOP SECRET watermark printed across the entire page.
"What am I looking at?"
"It's called the Mothership." He slips his phone back into his pocket. "It uses closed time-like curves - I think, I'm not very savvy on the science myself, just repeating what I've been told - anyway, it uses closed time-like curves and gravitational waves to travel."
She looks at him askance. She can hear it in his voice. There's something he's not saying. "Travel where?"
"Through time."
She can't help the scornful laugh that escapes, and she lets her foot off the gas entirely, debating whether to slam on the brake as well. "What?"
"Listen, I know it sounds insane, but that's the reason Lucy has been missing all these years. We went back on that first mission in 2016, things got out of hand and history changed, and when we returned, you were gone. Erased. It's only recently we realized that we'd returned to an alternate timeline, created because of the changes we made, thinking we'd just come back to our own. That's why Lucy never came back to this one. She had no idea it still existed at all."
"I…" Amy shakes her head, bewildered by what she's hearing. "You're right, this does sound insane. Do you actually expect me to believe any of this?"
"I get it, Amy, I do. I didn't buy it either when they first told me. I had to see it to believe it. And that's where we're going."
"And where is that?"
"To the ship." He turns to her, his face intensely serious and eyes almost pleading with her to believe him. "Amy, you're all Lucy talks about. All she wants in this world is to get you back. It's the whole reason she's still doing any of this. And I can do that for her. For both of you."
"Do what?"
"Take you to her."
That gets her. She wrenches the wheel to the side and slams on the brakes. "You've gotta be kidding me. First you lie about who you are-"
"I didn't-"
"-and then I nearly get murdered by someone I've never seen in my life, then I almost get shot in a fucking gunfight, you tell me this insane story about time travel and now you're kidnapping me?!" Wyatt looks gobsmacked and is silent for a beat. Clearly it hadn't occurred to him how all of this would come across to someone who wasn't privy to whatever the hell is going on in his head. "I'm sorry, Wyatt, you seem like a really nice guy overall, but I have a life here and I'm not stupid enough to let a relative stranger drag me out to an abandoned warehouse to see his 'time machine' when it's far more likely I'm going to end up dead at the bottom of the ocean instead."
She shoves the gearshift into park and fumbles with her seatbelt, and he quickly reaches for his phone again. "Wait, wait, okay, hang on." He puts his free hand on her arm as she goes to open the door and as she turns back to yell at him to let go, she sees the photo on the phone that he's now holding up for her to see.
Lucy.
She can't help but reach out and snatch the phone out of his hand, and he lets her, staying quiet as she examines the photo. She's never seen it before, but her sister's face is unmistakable. She looks far more tired and depressed than she's ever seen her, but it's her.
"Where did you…"
"Go to the next photo."
She complies, swiping the screen to the left, and sees a photo of a group of people seated around a table for dinner (in what looks like...a bomb shelter?). In this one Lucy is smiling - and across the table from her, also smiling widely, is Wyatt.
"That was Lucy's birthday this year. That's our team. Me and Lucy, then there's Rufus and Jiya-" He points at people on the screen as he names them. "-who are our pilots and part of the science team, then there's-"
"...Connor Mason?" She looks up at him. "You've gotta be joking." Looks back down and notices another face. "Wait, is that-"
"Agent Denise Christopher, yeah. She started the team, she's sort of the head of operations."
"But she's….she's here, I talked to her this afternoon-"
"She's never travelled with us. Whenever we go back, in those timelines we return to, everything is mostly the same in terms of our situation, save anything that alters because of changes we made. That's why Denise is still here - because she never went with us on that first trip. But every timeline we return to, she's there as well. Which I realize is confusing as hell."
She's starting to get a headache.
"And who is the last guy?" The one staring at her sister rather than the camera, as if he'd only intended to glance at her and was caught at just the wrong moment.
Wyatt's jaw clenches as she looks back up at him, his eyes still on the photo. "That would be Flynn."
"And what role does he play in your group of rag-tag time travellers?" She can't keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she says it, but something in the back of her mind is actually, unbelievably, starting to buy his story.
"He's muscle and intel." Wyatt doesn't elaborate any further, leading Amy to assume he and Flynn have a less than friendly relationship, especially if the clenched jaw and narrowed eyes were anything to go off of.
She stares at the photo a moment longer, then hands the phone back to him. "Let's say I do buy your story. Why are you here alone, if you've got a whole team?"
"It's...a long story. I'd need to catch you up on everything that's happened, and that'll take a lot longer than this drive. I can explain everything, but we need to get a move on, before Emma tracks us down again."
"And who is she-"
"Later," he says, gently but firmly. "I'll explain all of it. But we need to go."
She sits looking at him silently, mulling everything over in her head. Nothing Wyatt had done to this point screamed I'm planning to strangle you in the woods, and then there were the photos of Lucy. Her sister clearly trusted the guy in some capacity.
Not to mention, she doesn't really have much of anything to keep her there anymore. A shitty job, an empty house inhabited by the ghost of her happy family life, struggling daily just to get by and with no proverbial carrot on a stick to keep her going. But here was a way out. Get her sister back (maybe), have a purpose beyond just existing (maybe), and end the miserable loop that is her daily life (maybe).
All it would require is trusting him.
Well. What do I have to lose?
"Do we have enough time for me to go back to the house, get some of my things?"
She can see the relief on his face at her words. "It's not safe. Emma's probably camping out waiting for you there. We can replace anything you need once we get back to my timeline."
"But…" She trails off. Most things in the house aren't particularly sentimental for her, beyond photos, but she still has her locket containing the same photo from the gala (part of a matching set Carol had given her daughters to commemorate the night). And if there was a likelihood she'd be seeing Lucy again...what really did she actually need to take with her? "Alright. In that case, you'd better drive. You know where we're going better than I do."
They pull up to the pier a short time later and Wyatt parks the car behind one of the warehouses, killing the engine and the lights immediately. It leaves an eerie silence behind, broken only by the nearby sound of the ocean waves crashing against the dock. Wyatt twists in his seat, looking intently at their surroundings, before deciding it's clear. "Stay close to me."
Which probably didn't mean "hold on to me" when he said it, but Amy grips his arm all the same, walking a half step behind him, her eyes darting around nervously. Being in the presence of someone who knows what they're doing helps somewhat, but even then, she isn't quite ready to trust him fully.
"What about your car?" she whispers, trying to avoid making any noise.
"It was a rental." He draws his gun and holds it at his side as they near the corner of the building and gestures for her to stand next to him with their backs against the wall. Amy quickly complies, and waits as Wyatt leans around the edge, gun held out ahead of him to survey the space for any threats. After a few seconds he nods for her to follow and leads her to a door that is currently half closed, the lock having clearly been broken at an earlier point in time.
Inside she sees a massive...something, currently hidden below an army green tarp. Wyatt sets his gun down on a crate next to it and tugs the tarp off in one smooth movement, revealing what looks like...a giant metal eyeball?
"That doesn't look anything like the schematics you showed me earlier," she says, wary.
"That would be because this ship is the prototype to that one." He smacks a hand against the side of it, producing a hollow metal sound that echoes in the space. "This one we call the Lifeboat. Little less fancy than the Mothership but she's gotten us out of a lot of close calls." He quickly enters a code into a keypad next to the iris of the eyeball-ship and she jumps as the iris then slides to the left, revealing a hollow interior with four seats set in a circle and multiple screens all around them. He kneels down in the doorway and extends a hand toward her. "You can have a look. Just don't touch any buttons."
She reaches for his hand, and has nearly grabbed it, when a shot goes off. The bullet cuts straight through his palm before pinging off the Lifeboat exterior and ricocheting into a nearby crate.
Wyatt immediately cries out in pain and grabs his wrist with his good hand, and Amy whirls around, looking for the source of the shot. She can't see anything, and so dashes to the nearest crate to crouch behind it for safety.
"Amy!"
She looks back at Wyatt as he calls to her and sees him gesturing toward the crate, his face still wracked with pain. She stands just enough to see the top and spots his gun still lying there.
"I don't know how to use this!" she hisses as she grabs it and ducks once more. He hops to the ground, grunting in pain from his wounded hand being jostled, and dashes toward her as more shots go off in his direction, peppering the ground beside him. He's nearly at her side as a bullet hits his leg, and he stumbles to his knees as he reaches her, but manages to slip around and take cover behind the crate all the same. Amy quickly gives him the gun, her hands shaking in terror. "What do we do?"
He looks at her, attempting another smile to calm her nerves, but she can see the sweat on his forehead and hear him breathing roughly, and can tell he's clearly in a lot of pain.
"Oh Wyatt!" they hear a voice call, a sing-song lilt to her tone that is punctuated by the click of her heels on the cement floor. "You have nowhere to go from here, as I'm sure you've already realized. Why don't you come out and chat? I promise I'll ask questions first and shoot later."
"Yeah, because that's a compelling offer," he mutters under his breath, gripping his gun in his left hand. It's clearly not his usual shooting hand, but as the other one still has blood dripping steadily down his forearm from the hole in his palm, he's clearly working with what he's got. He flicks the safety off and grips it tightly, taking steadying breaths as he braces himself to fire. "Amy," he whispers, looking her way again, "I need you to do something for me."
"I can't-"
"You can. You'll be fine." He grins. "You're Lucy's sister. Preston women are tough as nails."
She can't help but smile at that, and nods. "What is it?"
"I'm going to lay down cover fire in a second. I need you to get into the Lifeboat, power it on, and key in our coordinates."
"I don't know how to do that."
"There's a panel-" A bullet zips over them again and they both flinch; Emma is clearly growing impatient with waiting. "-in the center, opposite the door. There's a switch below that for powering it on, and then you just key in the coordinates and activate the autopilot."
"But what are the-"
"There's another button near the autopilot, it says 'copy forward return coordinates' or something like that. It'll take you back to wherever it originated from, which in this case-" Another flurry of gunshots overhead. "-is where Lucy is. Just get the Lifeboat up and running, enter the coordinates and strap in. As soon as I'm in there with you, hit the autopilot button." He's about to place his free hand over hers, then remembers the state it's in and thinks better of it. "One more thing. If this doesn't go as planned, for whatever reason - if I get too injured to get in or...or worse, I want you to leave without me."
"I can't-"
"Not up for discussion." He's panting now, but his eyes are no less intense. "You leave if things go south. You can come back for me if you need to. But if Emma gets her hands on you…" He trails off and she can easily fill in the blanks herself. "And if you do have to go back without me, tell Lucy...I left her something. Tell her to search my room and she'll find it."
She wants to cry from sheer terror, wants to just run away and wake up from the nightmare, wants to beg him not to leave her alone. Instead, she nods quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. Wyatt smiles again.
"You'll be fine. You ready?"
Another nod.
"Okay." They wait silently for another pause in the gunfire, and she hears the sound of what she guesses is an empty clip clattering to the floor as the woman reloads. It's the moment he was waiting for. "Amy, NOW!"