Hi guys! I'm here with a fic for the TFP contest. I've never done this before, but I was looking through the prompts and inspiration struck, so here I am. I am still working on Living in the Present (I feel like I need a better title for that, but oh well) but I wanted to get this done before the first deadline, June 28th. Writing fics always takes longer than I think it will, so I've devoted my time to this. I just wanted to thank you guys for all the support that you've given me so far in my other fics. I adore this fandom and this show and I hope one day I'll be among the revered names of Timeless fanfic writes that stun us with their amazingness .
I started writing two pages of this, realized it was way too dark (and had too much exposition) for what I wanted and moved it so I can make another fic out of it. I wanted this to be lighter. But still with angst. There's always some form of angst. So please enjoy some Lyatt healing and good, old Amy Preston.
I have no beta, all mistakes are mine. I always get so excited to post after finished something that I miss dumb mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out to me so I can correct them.
Please enjoy. Please leave a review at the end, it gives me life.
Lucy has a problem.
Not a Rittenhouse sized problem, thank god. She can do without another one of those for the rest of her life.
It isn't a Garcia Flynn sized problem either. Not from when he hopped year to year trying to wipe out Rittenhouse. Not from when Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus thought he was the biggest problem they'd have to face in relation to time travel.
It's an Amy Preston sized problem.
An Amy Preston sized problem stands in a category all on its own, gigantic and blaring and expelling shockwaves that shake the foundation Lucy Preston stands on. It isn't exactly what Lucy expected when she got Amy back. Don't get her wrong, she is thrilled to have her sister back. She tried clinging to Amy after getting her back, but Amy Preston doesn't really stay in one place for long. She zips around, only leaving blurry polaroid shots and displaced air where she had once been a second ago.
It actually took Lucy —analytical and fact driven as she was— a few days to realize there was a problem at all. She was too high on euphoria due to Amy's return and Rittenhouse's defeat. Nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.
Not even the broken heart she was still nursing; violate, yawning caverns in her heart eroded by Emma, her mother, the pieces of herself that she lost to Rittenhouse, and most of all, a certain blue-eyed soldier. Having the possibilities of a future with him snatched away—by Jessica's return, the bile-inducing pregnancy announcement, and then her subsequent betrayal—it tore Lucy apart more than anything. She'd lost her mother far before her death, something she only realized in hindsight. The past had already stolen so much from her. She wanted a future. Her future. Their future. But the past decided to take that from her too.
She took Amy back from it, unraveling the tangled thread of whatever Emma and her mother did. She landed back in 2018 and Amy was there, flesh and blood and real and home. Lucy's ache for Wyatt still pulsed through her veins every day, but with Amy home, it was only a dull singing in her blood instead a sharp pang. She'd been living with it so long, it was barely noticeable.
To her.
Not to Amy.
Amy Preston knows Lucy Preston. Amy's seen Lucy filled to the brim with fury, choking back disappointment, beaming with pride, leaking tears of sorrow, staring into empty space with numbness, and yes, weighed down with heartbreak. Lucy is heartbroken now, unlike anything Amy's ever seen before, but it's still heartbreak. Figuring out the cause from there is not difficult.
It's one Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan, Delta Force.
Personally, Amy Preston doesn't give a damn about who he is. He broke her sister's heart. No way she's letting him get away with it.
Lucy and Wyatt's road back to each other is anything but smooth, and they are walking it, not driving it. But they are on it.
After they fractured apart, hitting rock bottom with all the force of an asteroid, Lucy needed time. She traveled through time, yet never ever managed to have enough of it. Not where it counted.
His confession weighed on her everyday: I love you, Lucy. Words that reached her ears on airwaves of grief, loss, and mourning. Words said because Rufus wanted Wyatt to, and now he's gone. In some small way, those words were an atonement.
Defeating Rittenhouse and saving Rufus; those were the two things her world narrowed down to. Luckily, the future versions of themselves crashed into her present to help with one of them. They left as soon as they saved Rufus, not wanting to reveal too much about the future because then it could impact the present and therefore change the future. Although it was already going to change because Rufus will have never died… just trying to work out the diverging and splitting timelines gave Lucy a massive headache.
With Rufus back, an integral part of who she is now, Lucy started healing bit by bit. She still wasn't in a good place by any means, but it was a better place. It was progress. The team was back, glued together through the return of their pilot.
But her and Wyatt… it was so damn hard, and she was so tired. So very tired. Her faith in him, to protect her, never once faltered. But in the bunker, away from the mission, meeting his eyes only resulted in flashes of pain, longing, and guilt. They were both so hesitant to touch, to tease each other, to say anything weighty that might cause the other pain. The cliffs at the ends of the chasm between them crumbled more and more every day as the distance grew.
It was complete and utter torture. Her and Wyatt were always tactile; the brush of hands, the electrifying eye contact that tethered them together, the weight of Wyatt's hand on the small of her back, the bumping of shoulders, the linking of arms, the smoothing of a lapel.
Rufus made it better. He helped them smile together, laugh together. He reminded them of Lucy and Wyatt, the duo that barreled through history together, bumbling and tripping, but always catching each other.
It wasn't always a full catch, where she tumbled neatly into his arms. Sometimes, it was all they could do to grip a forearm for dear life to keep the other from falling. But they never let each other go.
Bit by bit, piece by piece, slowly… they worked their way back.
Lucy was tired. She was tired of pain and loss and denial. It hurts right now, the cracks in her heart still throbbing and fresh as the day they'd been inflicted. It isn't magically going to disappear, the pain. So she is going to let the man who put them there work on patching them back up. Ironic, how only he can fix what he broke.
Besides, Lucy has to accept the irrevocable truth.
She is in love with Wyatt Logan.
She never once stopped loving him. No when her heart shattered into a thousand pieces like Cinderella's slipper when it met unforgiving tile. Not when the words, I love you, too, snagged on her ribcage and refused to make their way to her vocal chords. Not when his elbow collided with her face by accident, because I'm not gonna let you get hurt. Not when the thought of Wyatt fathering a baby with Jessica tugged at the void in Lucy's chest for a future she'd never have.
Lucy decided she is tired of pushing Wyatt away. She's not going to do it anymore. She knows they still have a long way to go, a long road back.
But they're Lucy and Wyatt. Whatever's waiting at the end, she has no doubt it will be worth it.
Adjusting is hard.
Not just to a world where her mother passed due to cancer and Amy flounces around the house with all the energy of a toddler on a sugar high.
The history is different. She can't go back to teaching right away because her facts aren't accurate anymore. Not just the events she traveled to, like the Hindenburg or Abraham Lincoln's death or the Salem Witch trials. The damn butterfly effect ripples through history, warping the little facts along with everything else. It's relearning everything she already knew. Very frustrating.
Agent Christopher is very sympathetic, offering support and pensions for services rendered to Homeland Security (aka time travel) until Lucy can get her feet back under her for normal, civilian life.
One thing she knows for certain is that she's not going back to Stanford. Not to the department her mother built, the same one that denied her tenure. Nope. She stills wants to teach, enjoys bringing history to life and connecting with the students, she just can't do it there.
She spends most of her days trying to flush out the old history to replace with the new. She doesn't completely forget about her history, she records it in a notebook for safekeeping. Maybe it's a ridiculous notion, it's history that no longer exists and they can't go back and restore it to the way it was. But preserving history is what she does, so she slaves over that notebook.
Amy still has her podcast, and Lucy studying history every day like she doesn't already know it throws Amy for more than one loop. Amy's nose scrunches in confusion every time she sees it, but she doesn't comment. Lucy's life has been weird ever since some random Homeland Security Agent turned up at thier door.
Wyatt's back at Pendleton, waiting for an assignment. However, his primary job these days seems to be helping Lucy in her endeavor to devour an entirely different history. He totes stacks of library books into her house upon request, brings home cooked meals (he avoids takeout when he can, says she has enough of that as it is), returns the books, throws in little details about the original history that escaped Lucy's mind during the chaos of a mission.
It's comfortable, it's time spent together. It's them inching ever closer to each other.
It's a Tuesday night, Lucy bent over a notebook and scribbling about the forgotten, heroic Alice Paul, when the doorbell rings.
Wyatt.
Lucy's not sure what he's bringing tonight, but when she told him she was going to be going through Grace Humiston and the feminist movement under her leadership, he vowed to be there as soon as he could. He knows the ache that strikes Lucy when she reads Grace's name in place of Alice's.
A woman history forgot. Just like her sister not that long ago.
This time if Wyatt tries to rub her arms and whisper you're not the only one, she'll let him. No more running.
Lucy looks up from her work when the doorbell rings. "I'll get it!" Amy crows, bouncing up from her spot lounging on the couch and watching soap operas.
Oh no.
Lucy wants to bolt from the couch, get to the front door first and let Wyatt in. Instead, she decides to give Amy the benefit of the doubt.
Lucy hadn't noticed it at first, but whenever she mentions Wyatt's name, something swims across Amy's eyes. White hot flames of contained rage. Lucy is very familiar with the hellfire Amy can rain down upon people, having seen it firsthand. The thought of that directed at Wyatt is very disconcerting to this day.
The first time he came over, the first time since Lucy got Amy back, Lucy was convinced she might have to restrain her little sister. First, came the shock. Amy's face slack and mouth open like one of the cartoons where they have to physically pull their jaw off the floor. Then the boiling anger. Glaring and making every effort to make Wyatt uncomfortable and not feel at home.
To say Lucy was appalled with Amy's behavior was an understatement. Suffice it to say, there was arguing that night. Much to Lucy's frustration, she never got a straightforward answer on Amy's attitude. Anytime she asked, Amy just kept repeatedly slinging, "like you don't know", "really, Lucy?", "I thought you were smarter than this", and other variations of those statements at her.
Ever since then, Wyatt's been a point of contention between them, but Lucy still can't manage to pry an answer from Amy's lips. If Amy was a secret agent, Lucy doesn't think she'd ever crack under interrogation.
Amy acts as if Lucy should already know the answer to all the questions she's asking. Which is fair, if she didn't lose any time with Amy due to time travel and her blinking temporarily out of existence. Not that she can say any of that.
Lucy worries her bottom lip as she strains to hear what's happening at the door. She shuffles across the couch, to the end closest to the open door.
One beat. Two beats. Three beats.
Okay, Amy should have opened the door by now. Lucy's brow furrows as she hears clanking. Is that coming from the kitchen? What? Lucy's concern meter climbs higher as the sounds of cabinets closing floats over to her.
Benefit of the doubt, benefit of the doubt, Lucy repeats in her head.
Finally, finally, Lucy hears soft footfalls in the foyer and the slight creaking of hinges as the front door is opened. Lucy waits with bated breath, hoping that Amy will be mature, not let her anger get the better of her, and let Wyatt into the house.
No such luck. Hushed voices glide into the house, the slamming of a door resounding soon after. Lucy sighs, rubbing her hand across her forehead.
Amy skips back into the room and flops down next to Lucy, not caring that she is occupying Amy's former seat. Amy sinks down into the seat, propping her feet back up on the coffee table, and ignores Lucy's piercing stare. "So…?" Lucy asks. Amy doesn't even glance over. "Who was at the door?"
"A door-to-door salesman. Told him we're not interested." Amy replies, eyes on the drama unfolding on the television screen. Lucy's patience has worn paper-thin. Even less. More like tissue paper.
Now Amy's outright lying to her.
She snatches the remote from next to Amy's feet and pauses the soap. "Hey!" Amy exclaims, putting her feet back on the ground and making a grab for the remote.
"Come on, Amy!" Lucy exclaims, holding the remote out of reach.
"What?" Amy feigns ignorance.
"A door-to-door salesman? I know it's Wyatt out there." Lucy huffs.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Amy leans back, folding her arms over her chest angrily. Lucy gives up. Amy's not going to budge.
Lucy tosses the remote into Amy's lap before springing up and storming to the door. She throws it open to see Wyatt still standing there, holding a pie in his hands with wide eyes. "I am so sorry about her." Lucy profusely apologizes. "Come on i…." Lucy trails off as she looks down at Wyatt's feet.
Liquid. Thick and yellow and reflecting light.
Olive oil?
"I think your sister really wanted me to fall on my ass." Wyatt admits sheepishly with a shrug. He's stuck there, surrounded by slick oil spread just enough so that he can't just step over it. Lucy can feel her face reddening with shame and anger. "Lucy—" Wyatt starts.
"Amy!" Lucy screams back into the house. Lucy waits to hear Amy's feet skidding on the floor in a dash to reach the front door. They don't come. "Amy!" Lucy calls again. Amy still doesn't appear. Lucy will deal with her sister later.
Lucy gives Wyatt a small, nervous smile. "I am so sorry, again." Lucy says. "I'll back. Just… don't move."
"No danger of that happening, ma'am." Wyatt replies with a light chuckle. Now she's flushed for an entirely different reason. Ducking her head, she rushes back into the house and grabs a roll of paper towels. When she arrives back at the door, she rips off a wad and places it on the oil directly in front of the door. The oil absorbs immediately. Lucy puts a few more layers down.
"Okay," she straightens up. "I think that's good. Just step on that to come in and you should be good." As Wyatt places his foot down, Lucy puts her hands out to help him if he slips. It's far more likely that she'll just end up falling into the oily mess with him, her clumsiness as strong as ever. But as long as she's with him, she doesn't mind.
Luckily, Wyatt makes it safely into her foyer, standing a hairsbreadth away from Lucy who barely moved from her position to catch him. The air is charged between them as brown locks with blue. His breath fans over her face, skimming along the planes of her cheeks and sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyelashes flutter at the heady close proximity. After so much distance for so long, the nearness is dizzying and muddles her brain. She opens her mouth to say something, what she's not sure, when the moment is interrupted.
"Oh, cut it out already!" Amy grunts in their direction, standing some ways behind them. Lucy whirls around and hurls the roll of paper towels at her. They hit her crossed arms and bounce to the ground.
"You're cleaning that mess up." Lucy orders. Amy simply scoffs and rolls her eyes. "And you don't get any pie." Lucy ushers Wyatt past Amy and into the kitchen.
"Good, I didn't want any anyway!" Amy calls after them.
Three days later, Wyatt is back at the Preston house, thigh touching Lucy's as she flips through another history book about how Grace changed the feminist movement that Lucy once knew. Butterfly effect, yet again. She's a little slower than usual today as she scans the page, half of her laser focus dedicated solely to the physical contact between her and Wyatt.
After the incident in her foyer, some invisible wall between them crumbled to the ground in a spectacle of mortar, brick, and cement. It's almost like they both realized how much they've missed simply being near to each other and are unwilling to go back to the way it was before.
Lucy guesses maybe she should thank Amy for trying to make Wyatt fall on his ass via olive oil.
Maybe after Amy's done with her childish tirade towards Wyatt.
Wyatt observes Lucy's reduced reading speed. "So, professor, feeling tired today?" he asks, trying to smother a smirk.
"What?" Lucy replies. She knows she's been caught. Keeping her focus on the book in front of her, she tries to seem disinterested and ignorant of Wyatt's inquiry. But she spies that damn attractive smirk out of her peripheral.
"I swear you've been on this page for twenty minutes now." Wyatt jabs playfully.
Lucy turns to him, mouth dropping open in mock shock and offense. "Twenty minutes? Wow, you think highly of yourself, now don't you?" Mirth leaks into Lucy's voice. Wyatt's smirk expands and his eyes twinkle with mischief.
Lucy loves seeing him like this; his face devoid of the usual anguish he stores there, a mere fraction of the guilt he dams up inside himself. He looks carefree, troublesome… happy.
"So… are you saying I'm the distraction, professor?" Wyatt questions, raising his eyebrows and pressing his thigh more firmly against hers. More contact. More Wyatt. It takes Lucy a few minutes to snap out of it and replay her own words through her head.
Damn it, she flat out confessed that she was distracted because of him.
A snappy comeback is failing her at the moment, but she's not letting him win. "Well—" she starts, before choking off.
Wyatt's winning.
He's taken his hand, and settled in on her thigh, the one where they're connected. The unexpected hand steals her voice and coherence. It starts moving gently up and down, a soothing innocent motion confined to a tiny area.
He's still playing it safe after all this time, after the leaps and bounds of progress they've been making toward each other.
Lucy's done with safe. She wants to let go of the safety bar, unbuckle the seat belt. She's ready to throw herself over the cliff that is Wyatt Logan, to let herself drown in those blue, blue eyes and lock herself in those strong, comforting arms forever.
The faded scars on her heart protest, but Lucy doesn't listen. She trusts Wyatt. As teammates, as friends, and now as… something more. Her possibility. At this point, he's more like her certainty. At the end of the day, he's there. Whether it's to argue about fate versus free willor assure he that she's nothing like her biological father or hold her when she breaks after six weeks with Rittenhouse or bring the steps to the bottom of the Lifeboat, ready to spring up when he sees that she's hurt. No matter what, his heart was always hers. Even when she thought it belonged to Jessica.
Now, without any resurrected, sleeper-agent wife wedged between them, their hearts simply belong to each other.
Lucy's hand falls on top of his, her eyes searching his. There's a whirlwind of emotion. The mischief from before is a distant, forgotten gleam as desire for her wars with his fear that she's not ready yet, that she'll push him away and ask for space.
That's not happening.
Her other hand reaches up, feathering a path from his hairline down his cheek and neck to his shoulder. A phantom path, a pale imitation of the caress from the morning of 1941. Wyatt's eyes darken further and flicker at her touch.
She's ready. For him, for this, for them to come together again. For this time to be the beginning of the rest of their lives. Because she knows that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. There's no one else.
Lucy's eyes volley between those entrapping blue eyes and plush lips that she hasn't kissed in far too long. This close, Lucy detects the hitch in Wyatt's breath as she sees the clear intent on Lucy's face. She's leaning in, closer and closer and closer, her hand retracing its path back up to cup Wyatt's cheek.
He's tense, unmoving as he waits for her to bring them together, giving her complete control to back out if she wants to.
Just another reason for her to love Wyatt Logan.
Her eyes are just drifting shut, their lips barely skimming when Amy's loud voice booms in the room. Lucy's eyes fly open in shock and she pulls back to look at her sister.
Amy's standing in front of the coffee table holding two mugs with the most forced smile plastered on her lips. Lucy guesses she shouldn't be surprised that Amy would chose this exact time to interrupt them. God forbid Lucy Preston gets to kiss Wyatt Logan. It was hard enough to do the first time around; with Jiya barging in on them and then Wendall Scott popping the trunk open right before she could reacquaint her lips with Wyatt's.
Lucy had been too focused on Wyatt and kissing him to hear what Amy said when she trampled into the room. Now Amy's just standing there, her eyes flinty as they examine the closeness of Lucy and Wyatt. Lucy can feel Wyatt shifting infinitesimally and then start to inch away from her. With all the speed of a striking viper, Lucy wraps her hand around Wyatt's and tugs him back toward her. "Did you need something, Amy?" Lucy doesn't even attempt to clear the irritation from her voice.
"Yeah, Lucy," Amy bites out, that fake smile still partially in place. It looks painful. "just thought I'd bring you guys some coffee since you've been here a while." She bends down and thuds the mugs on the table. Lucy is surprised when she doesn't see any cracks in the exterior.
Amy is still standing there, trying to kill Wyatt through her eyes when Lucy looks up. "Anything else?" she snips.
"Nope," Amy pops the p. "nothing. Enjoy your coffee." Then she's stomping out of the room, the coffee mugs rattling at her exit.
Lucy sighs, the moment gone. Stolen by her own sister. Every time she dreamed about getting Amy back, this scenario never came up.
When she looks back to Wyatt, he's eyeing the coffee with suspicion. "Do you think she poisoned it?" his voice is all seriousness.
Lucy wants to melt into the ground right about now.
"I really wish I could say no." Lucy sighs. She snatches both their mugs. "I don't trust either of these."
Down the drain they go.
Lucy has had enough.
Olive oil. The probably poisoned coffee (she could find no evidence or proof but she's sure there was something in that mug). Amy slashed his tires for god's sake.
And no, Lucy does not care that Amy was inspired by Carrie Underwood's song.
Luckily for her, Wyatt took it all in stride. He never got angry.
Lucy, on the other hand, did.
Embarrassment and anger were two emotions becoming far too familiar to her in association with Amy. Apologies rolled off Lucy's tongue as commonly as greetings. She begged Wyatt to let her pay for new tires, but he declined.
He ordered some new ones and called a cab to take him home. Lucy would have offered him a spare room is she didn't think that Amy might try to off him in his sleep.
Not that she would be able to. He's Delta Force. But Amy's a whole different kind of force and Lucy does not want to see what happens when one goes up against the other.
The final straw comes through a phone call from a boxing gym and fitness center.
Lucy needs a glass of wine after that.
Amy isn't home when Lucy receives the call. Lucy lounges on the couch with her wine glass as she waits not-so-patiently for her little sister to walk through the door.
Whatever her issue with Wyatt Logan, it's ending tonight.
Eventually, long after Lucy's drank all the wine in the glass, the opening of a door announces Amy's arrival. "Amy," Lucy calls, not deigning to get up. "can you come in here, please?" She'll ask nicely the first time. She really hopes that it won't come to that, but this needs to stop.
"Yeah?" Amy replies, strutting into the living room and dropping her duffel bag at her feet. She's wearing tight athletic leggings and tank top with sweat stains still drying. Her hair is up in a ponytail, a few strands sticking to her skin.
"Intense workout at the gym?" Lucy questions, twisting the stem of her wine glass back and forth in her hand.
"Yeah." Amy looks at Lucy warily.
"That's funny, cause guess who called me tonight?" Lucy looks up, awaiting Amy's guess. Amy merely shrugs, eyeing the empty wine glass catching the light. "The owner of the gym you were just at. Roger," Lucy snaps with the hand not holding the glass. "that's his name. He told me some interesting things."
"Really?" Amy finally looks a little nervous, swallowing as she sensed what was coming next.
"Yeah." Lucy deadpans. "Something about you going into the ring with someone about four times a week and beating the shit out of him. In fact, people have had to pull you off of him. And guess how he describe the guy?" Amy remains silent. "Guess."
"Dark hair, blue eyes, scruff? Name's Wyatt Logan?" Amy answers dryly.
Lucy huffs out an incredulous laugh. She extricates herself from the embrace of the couch, leaning forward to set her wine glass on the coffee table. "Wyatt Logan." Lucy confirms.
"I don't want to fight about him, tonight." Amy says tiredly.
"Then don't. We'll talk like mature adults. Sit." Lucy pats the space on the couch next to her. Amy rolls her head back on her neck, releasing a long sigh. She brought it upon herself. After a minute, she falls into the cushions. "Okay," Lucy wastes no time now that Amy's actually sitting next to her, listening. "obviously you have a problem with Wyatt—"
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Amy snorts.
Lucy glares at her before continuing. "I just want to know why."
"Seriously, Lucy?" Amy pushes herself up from her position and rearranges herself closer to Lucy. "That jerkwad broke your heart. And for some reason—"
"What a minute. What?" Lucy hasn't divulged anything about her and Wyatt to Amy since she got back. How would she begin to explain the dead, not-dead wife situation?
"You think I didn't know? Or couldn't tell? Come on, Lucy. I know you. And I know he broke your heart. He's not allowed to just get away with that." Amy insists, righteous, protective maelstroms whirling in her eyes.
"That's—it's—" Lucy flounders for a response. "That's not a valid excuse for everything you've done to him!" she exclaims. Amy scoffs, rolling her eyes as she slouches back into the cushions. "You tried to kill him nine times!"
Amy shot back into a sitting position. "Yes, I restrained myself nine times. You should be proud!" It was Lucy's turn to roll her eyes. "Besides, if you're counting beating his soldier ass at the gym, which you obviously are, that brings the number above nine. Anyway, stop being so dramatic. I hardly tried to kill him—"
"He could have broken his neck slipping in that olive oil." Lucy points out.
"He's damn Delta Force. If he dies because of some olive oil, the U.S. Army needs to reevaluate their recruits." Amy shoots back. "And ipecac syrup is hardly deadly—"
"That's what you put in the coffee?" Lucy shrieks, appalled.
"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. He spends a little time on his knees puking his guts out. Big deal."
"Yes, Amy, it is a big deal. A very big deal."
"Really? I mean, if it bothered him, wouldn't he hit back?"
"What?" Lucy can't draw a proper breath.
"He doesn't seem to be trying that hard to be staying alive, as you so dramatically put it. Every time we get in the ring, he refuses to hit me. It's like he steps in just to be beat up. Just so you know, I at least tried to avoid his pretty face for your benefit." Amy announces.
"You did that so you wouldn't get caught." Lucy contradicts, her mind still stuck on a stoic Wyatt letting Amy beat him up. Now she needs to have a separate conversation with him.
"Guilty." Amy shrugs. Oh, she's guilty of plenty. Lucy's stare conveys her opinion. "Look, Lucy, yes I did all that stuff, okay? But I wasn't going to let him get away with breaking your heart. Especially since you seem to be giving him the go-ahead to do it again. I really thought you were smarter than to give your heart to someone who already broke it once before." Lucy's eyes well. Amy was, in a twisted, backwater way, kind of trying to stick up for her. It's such an Amy thing to do, Lucy doesn't know how she missed it all this time.
"Amy," Lucy says gently. She takes Amy's hand and pulls her up to look in her eyes. She needs Amy to understand this. "I love him." Amy shakes her head in disbelief. "And I know that he loves me."
"Yeah, loves you so much that he took your heart and shattered it."
"Amy… the situation we were put in… it was impossible. I literally can't explain it to you. But he was put in an impossible situation." Lucy repeats. "And it wasn't just him. I made choices too, I pushed him away. We both tried to what we thought was the 'right' thing to do. In reality, we just made ourselves miserable. We hit rock bottom, Amy. No where to go but up, right?" Amy still doesn't look quite convinced. She gently pulls one her hands from Lucy's and reaches up to brush a tear away from the older Preston's face. Lucy didn't even realize she started crying. "We've been working our way back to each other and Amy… I'm so tired. I am tired of the pain and the denial and staying away. I love him. I am so sick of it. I just want to be with him, and I want to be happy. We both deserve it, after everything. It wasn't easy, I promise, and if you want him to suffer, I can guarantee that he did. But I want the suffering to end, please. Please, Amy, don't make him suffer anymore." Lucy begs, the tears falling in earnest.
"You really love him?" Amy asks, voice small. Lucy nods forcefully.
Amy wraps Lucy up in her arms, her grip unyielding. Small shakes rack Amy's body and seconds later, Lucy feels the wet droplets of tears on her shoulder. "Then who am I to stand in the way of love?"
Lucy really should not be surprised when Wyatt throws the front door open, barreling into her house with wide eyes and coiled muscles. After her heart-to-heart with Amy, Lucy texted Wyatt asking him to come over immediately. He'd sent a few inquiry messages after that, but Lucy didn't reply, worried that she'd start spilling everything over text instead of face-to-face.
Right about now, that choice appears to be shortsighted. Wyatt skipped simple worry and concern and went right to Protect Lucy From Imminent Danger mode. "Whoa, man, she's perfectly fine." Lucy hears Amy assure from the foyer. "She's just in the living ro—"
The thumping sound of Wyatt's footsteps drown out Amy's voice as he charges into the room. "Lucy?" he asks a split second before his eyes land on her. Relief loosens his muscles, ready to pounce on the first threat he saw. He rushes over to her, sitting on the couch. He skids to stop, positioning his arms to draw her into a hug before he thinks better of it and his arms hang limply in the empty air.
Lucy doesn't hesitate. She launches herself into his arms, giving him the physical confirmation that she's okay. He responds right away, wrapping her up tightly, holding her against him and breathing him her scent. "It's okay. I'm okay." Lucy murmurs into his skin.
She can't tell how long they stay there, content in each other's arms. Not nearly long enough, but she has a few questions to ask and a few things to say.
With reluctance, she's the one pulling away first. Not far. Just enough to sit back down and tug him down beside her. "Why did you let her do it?" Lucy asks.
Wyatt's eyes, which had just been drinking in Lucy's face, color with shock. "Um… what? I think I need a bit more context here, Lucy." He says, with a chuckle and furrowed brow.
"Amy." Lucy clarifies. "Why did you let her beat her up? She said you didn't defend yourself."
Wyatt looks down, clarity hitting him with all the subtlety of a spiked wrecking ball.
"Wyatt?" Lucy implores softly.
"I already hit one Preston sister, figured that was enough." He whispers it so softly that Lucy almost misses it.
Almost.
God this man. This man that takes all the blame onto himself. The man that just won't forgive himself. Not even for an accident. Not even after she'd already forgiven him a thousand lifetimes ago. Atlas, holding up the weight of the heavens, he has nothing on Wyatt Logan.
"I love you." Lucy confesses, overflowing with so much affection and love for him. Wyatt's head snaps up, equal part hopeful and skeptical. Of course.
Lucy takes his head in her hands, just like in the Alamo when she yanked him back from his self-sacrificing abyss, "I. Love. You." She enunciates every word clearly, leaving no room for doubt. "I love you so much. I have for a long time. I just… I couldn't say it earlier—"
Wyatt shakes his head between her pale fingers, tears falling down his face. "It's okay." He croaks.
Lucy gives a waterlogged laugh, following his teary example. "I love the stupid, reckless man who let my little sister beat the shit out of him because he still hasn't forgiven himself for an accident that I forgave him for so, so long ago. I guess we'll have to work on you forgiving yourself, won't we?" Lucy asks him, beaming from ear to ear.
Wyatt nods. "Yeah." He agrees.
"I love you, Wyatt Logan."
"I love you, Lucy Preston." He's smiling now, too. With red eyes and tears still falling and a blinding smile, he's never looked so handsome.
So Lucy kisses him.
It's everything. They're both crying, and their salty tears penetrate the kiss but neither care. They're crying and smiling and laughing but it's the best kiss Lucy's ever had.
Their lips meeting again is lightning bolts and buzzing electricity and forest fires and avalanches and earthquakes. It's everything. How did she go so long without kissing him? His hand i twined in her hair, the other resting on her hip. Hers are still cupped around his face. She wraps them around his shoulders and hauls herself ever closer to him.
He topples over with the sudden shift of weight, his back meeting the couch with Lucy on top of him. There's no place in the world he'd rather be.
Lucy giggles, breaking their kiss to laugh into his shoulder. It's contagious, hearing the precious sound of her laughter and he finds himself laughing too. "God, I love you." Wyatt says it again, his arms wrapped around her. He plans on saying it so much she gets sick of it.
"Shut up and kiss me." Lucy chastises, her lips crashing into him one second later. Heat zings all throughout his body, flaring up and up as Lucy rearranges herself above him so that she's straddling him. Wyatt wastes no time in pressing Lucy flush against him. He groans.
He plans to spend the rest of his life loving Lucy Preston. He's planned that from the first moment he confessed he loved her, but now she has said it back. Now he can really show her how he feels.
That he loves her.
Starting tonight.
Yay! All done. At almost one in the morning. And I have practice all day tomorrow. Oh well.
It definitely took longer than I thought, but I should have expected that. My sister graduated (I'm the last one left) and me and my family just got back from a week-long vacation. I didn't get to write on the road as much as I thought I would, but it's all done now.
Anyway, I hope that you guys all enjoyed it, please leave me a review and tell me what you think! And can anybody tell me why NBC hasn't renewed Timeless yet? Are they trying to kill us?