Wyatt still remembers that day. The day the lightning bolt hit and he fell in love with Jessica.

He had just driven his dad's car into the lake and ran off to stay with the only person in the world with whom he could feel like he meant something, his Grandpa Sherwin. He lived on a dusty ranch about 70 miles away from where Wyatt had grown up and Wyatt only had a fleeting memory of where exactly this ranch was; his dad wasn't much for family get togethers. Still, Wyatt knew that his Grandpa Sherwin was the only person in the world whom he could turn to in a time like this. He had enough of his father's drinking and abuse; he needed out.

Wyatt was only 15 when he hitchhiked his way to the small town outside of his grandfather's ranch, careful to keep an eye out for the world-class sonofabitch that he was running from and the eventual wrath that would rain down on him once he realized what Wyatt had done with his precious car. He had luckily been picked up by a truck driver who was headed just that direction and so Wyatt Logan jumped up into the cab, grateful for the ever-increasing distance between him and his no-good father.

He was dropped off in a dusty old town without so much as a penny to his name. His grandfather lived about five miles outside of town and it was a hot day. Wyatt, never being afraid of a little exertion and more than a little anxious to start a new life under the direction of Grandpa Sherwin, began to walk down the dusty highway.

That's when she came into his life.

He had only walked about two miles, when she pulled up next to him in a beaten up old Chevy pickup truck. "Hey, there" She had said. "I don't think I've ever seen you before - you new around here?"

"Um…yeah, I guess you could say that," Wyatt smirked. "Gonna be staying with my grandpa"

"Uh-huh, and does your grandpa know you're walking in this heat?"

"No-ma'am, I can't say that he does. I'm kind of surprising him with a visit."

"Where does your grandpa live exactly?"

Wyatt shrugged, "About three miles up the road, maybe. Not far." He began to walk again before Jessica pulled her truck up further and stopped him.

"Listen, I don't normally do this, but it's hot as hell and well, I wouldn't be very neighborly if I left you out here to die of a heat stroke before you surprised your grandpa. Seeing as how you're planning on living here and all, I figure I can be your first friend in this town. Hop on in and I'll give you a ride."

Wyatt gave her a half a smirk "Are you picking me up, ma'am?"

She immediately flashed a smile that made Wyatt go weak in the knees. "I guess you could call it that, yeah."

Wyatt shook his head with a smile and clamnered into her truck. She turned to face him and stuck out her hand to shake his. "I'm Jessica, by the way."

"I'm Wyatt."

And that was it. The lightning bolt. He knew as soon as he saw her flash that beautiful smile that he was head over heels for this girl. They dated throughout the rest of high school and then took a break from each other while Wyatt went to basic training. During that time apart, Jess dated a few other guys, Wyatt dated a few other girls, but upon returning home for his Grandpa Sherwin's funeral two years after his enlistment, he realized that Jessica was the only one in the world for him. The death of his grandfather put things into perspective and he wanted so much to make his grandfather proud, to have a family and a life that represented the kind of upbringing his Grandpa Sherwin had always hoped for him. Seeing Jessica there, at the funeral, having her near him again, made him ache for her to be with him all the time. He took her to the place where they had shared their first innocent kiss all those years ago and proposed. They were married the next year.

Four years later, she was dead.

Love is a messy, complicated thing and while Wyatt loved Jessica, he was also reckless, hotheaded, jealous and stubborn. That God-awful night at the bar would haunt Wyatt for as long as he lived. Military life had strained their marriage. Too many missions, too many lonely nights and too many moves in a short space of time had taken its toll. They had fought before they went to the bar – something about missing somebody's birthday party – it was stupid, whatever it was. They had come back to Texas to relax, to take some time away from it all.

The bar was crowded. Jessica wanted to go someplace quiet, but Wyatt insisted on staying. They fought some more. He started shooting pool with his old high school buddies, leaving Jess all alone at the bar. Was it any wonder that jackass ex-boyfriend of hers started chatting her up? Wyatt made a scene. They left.

Jess demanded to be let out of the truck.

And that was the last he saw of her. Alive.

Six years of guilt. Six years of self-hate. Six years of wishing he could go back and redo that night. And then one day, Conner Mason built a Time Machine and everything changed.

Lucy Preston was a high-strung, bossy know it all. Why they chose her for the mission, Wyatt swore he'd never know. When they told her about the mission initially, she ran away. Wyatt wasn't surprised. When they convinced her to come back, she complained that her bra wasn't historically accurate. She couldn't even strap herself into the damn LifeBoat seat. She was a nerd who got giddy when she saw a typical street in 1937. Nothing to get excited about, just regular people going about their daily 1930s lives and she's in seventh heaven over it. She got onto him for his drinking and his brooding and she was just so damn nice….it was annoying…like older sister annoying.

But then she was able to enlist the help of Commander Rosendahl where Wyatt had failed and well, he had to admit that he was impressed. Her spouting off facts about the Spanish flu just off the top of her head? Pretty damn good thinking.

Still, she was a stickler for rules. She lectured Wyatt about bringing his modern gun to the past with all sorts of doomsday scenarios – the gun that incidentally had just saved her life.

She was pushy. So what if Wyatt ran off to save that reporter? What business of it was hers? He didn't want to talk to her about Jessica, hadn't even meant to, but she was just so damn insistent – wouldn't let it go – and it's not like he could escape her in a jail cell.

But then she took her shirt off and tossed him her underwire bra. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

She was an author. She wrote an entire book on John Wilkes Booth. She went on a date with Robert Todd Lincoln and she had Ian Fleming – THE Ian Fleming eating out of the palm of her hand. Lucy was a Bond girl - alright, maybe Ian Fleming took some liberties with her character, but still, Lucy Preston was a DAMN BOND GIRL.

She wrote the letter that saved Texas…and she risked her life to save Wyatt. Wyatt had given up on himself, was ready to let it all go and die for a noble cause because why the hell did it matter anymore? He had failed again – was being fired – and he really had no one else to go back to…except Lucy…and Rufus. As the gunfire burst all around them, Lucy pulled Wyatt back from the oblivion and made him realize that while he might not care, there were others who cared about him, depended on him, trusted him, needed him. It was nice to be needed…and the fact that it was her telling him he was needed…well, that didn't make a difference, did it?

Lucy Preston was surprising. She trudged through the wilderness, outsmarted the French, and she double-crossed Garcia Flynn saving Wyatt in the process. She may be awkward and clumsy, but no one could hold a candle to her tenacity when her friends were in trouble. But she had lied to him. It didn't matter so much that Rufus had lied and was spying on them, she had talked to Garcia Flynn. She had written about him in that journal…well, technically she hadn't written it yet, but the fact that she had and did so to criticize him, bothered him.

Lucy Preston had a fiancé.

She really didn't know the guy. But it had been several weeks…months even…since she had discovered her new circumstances and she was still wearing the ring and Wyatt didn't like it. He told himself it was because she was his friend and he was concerned for her happiness. He told himself it was because this Noah guy shouldn't be in this timeline with Lucy – that his presence served as the glaring reminder of the sister she had that was now erased from history – he was just watching out for her. But then she told him she had met Noah for a date and it bothered him how much he was bothered by that rock on her finger.

Lucy Preston was beautiful. As Wyatt inched his face away from hers in that cabin in Arkansas he felt lost in her lovely brown eyes. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his face flushed, he wanted nothing more than to pull her close to him again and kiss her some more. Wyatt told himself that it was because the cheap booze had fuzzied his thinking. Wyatt told himself it was because he had been thinking of the night he proposed to Jessica. He told himself that he was just playing a role, the kiss meant nothing.

But it had meant everything.

If he was being completely honest with himself, Wyatt had felt a stirring in his chest that night. Something was awake inside of him that he hadn't even realized was there. Every time he was near Lucy, he'd feel the same stirring - more insistent, ever present. He replayed that kiss over and over in his mind. He loved it when she was close to him and now, more than ever he looked forward to the missions that brought together, just for any excuse to have her by his side.

And then that sonofabitch Garcia Flynn kidnapped her. Losing Lucy took Wyatt back to a time six years prior when he had lost Jessica. Panic, dread, and an utter feeling of helplessness stole over him as he was forced to wait three hours for the LifeBoat to recharge. Three hours, Wyatt knew, was too long…it was only 20 minutes with Jessica.

"Wyatt?"

Her voice was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. Trapped in that dungeon of a room, running out of oxygen – he had almost thought he was going delirious. His mind had been consumed with thoughts of her. Had she suffered a similar fate in this murder hotel? Is this how she died? His mind was fuzzy, his breathing labored, his calls for help seemingly futile. And then there it was. Her voice.

"Wyatt?!"

He hardly dared believe that he was actually hearing her. His mind was foggy, his vision blurring. It was just a dream, a hallucination. He needed to know it was real, half afraid that it wasn't…until Rufus confirmed that he had heard her too.

"Is that Lucy?"

She had double crossed Flynn again, enlisted the help of Harry Houdini, found them and saved them. Wyatt had meant to save her, but it was Lucy Preston who once again, pulled him from the abyss. Holding her in his arms, the smell of her hair, the touch of her cheek against his neck – he never wanted to let her go. He may not have been ready to admit it, but he was hopelessly in love with the bossy-know it all, high strung and claustrophobic, Lucy Preston.

But damn that Garcia Flynn.

Waving Jessica's murderer in front of his face, Wyatt tried hard to bury those feelings for Lucy. She was still engaged after all and here, here was a chance to get Jessica back. He had to try. He would always wonder otherwise.

Telling Lucy just about broke his heart. He was genuinely surprised when it looked like he broke hers. She wanted to help him, which just made him love her more. If she would have asked him to stay, he would have been hard pressed to leave her side.

But she didn't.

Because Lucy Preston was the most selfless person in the world.

Leaving her behind with Flynn was the hardest thing Wyatt ever had to do. She asked him to trust her for just a little longer. He would, but it didn't mean he wouldn't go insane with worry until she was back in the present, safe and away from Garcia Flynn.

He couldn't say good-bye. He thought maybe, possibly, he could just leave – put distance between them and break the bond. Then she hugged him and he knew. If he lost her now it would kill him. She had somehow managed to creep into his broken heart and slowly put it back together again. She breathed new life and meaning into his very existence.

When?

There was no lightning bolt with her. It wasn't sudden.

Hers was a force far more powerful, far more overwhelming. She had eased her way into his soul, took root there and consumed him; slowly at first, and then before he even knew it, he was swallowed up whole in his love for Lucy Preston. She was like an avalanche – and he was taken completely by surprised.

Possibilities.

He was ready for those possibilities.

"You're in love with Lucy, just admit it."

He wasn't ready to admit it. She had been missing for six weeks. Everyone believed she was dead. He wouldn't. He couldn't believe that was true, because if he even once entertained that thought, it would be the end of him.

And then he found her.

He found her as she was procuring grenades intended for her own destruction. She was on a suicide mission…until he pulled her back from the abyss. A gasp, a look of surprise, la look of utter longing, and a warm embrace. He was struck with the thought that he had been so close to losing her. It scared him. So no, he couldn't admit he was in love with her. Not yet. Not to Rufus.

He would tell Lucy.

Someday.

That night he meant to do it. He found her asleep in the bunker. Cold, frail, haunted by the life she took that morning – the soldier she had killed to convince Rittenhouse she was loyal. His heart ached at the sight of her. She may have been through hell and back, but she was home. She was safe. He had almost lost her, but here she was, alive – just as he always believed she was. He covered her, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead.

He would tell her.

Someday.

Lucy Preston was a singer. Wyatt saw a side of Lucy he had never seen before. For the first time since they met, she was carefree, happy – radiant. If that weren't enough to make him weak in the knees, she was belting out a song in a room full of people that somehow seemed to be meant for only him.

Lovebirds

Wyatt was suddenly nervous. He stumbled over words, called her "not hideous". He had never been good with expressing his feelings and these feelings were too strong- he was overwhelmed by the enormity of them.

He was in awe of Lucy Preston. Intimidated by her intelligence, her beauty and her goodness. He almost got it out – he confessed that she made him start caring again, that she saved him…but he couldn't form the words. Not when she was looking at him like that, not after she had sung like the Hollywood starlet she might've been in another life, not when there was a pool that sparkled in the moonlight, not when there were lips to be kissed and beds to be tumbled into.

She's your wife and you love her

Wyatt wanted to tell her then. Maybe if he had, she wouldn't have given him up so easily.

Jessica was alive, but not happy in their marriage. Divorce papers. Drunken fights. Therapy. Wyatt was desperate. Too desperate. He hadn't thought about how much it would hurt Lucy. He had only thought about Jessica…dead Jessica…and the second chance he had been given to be a better man than he was six years ago. How could he live with himself if he ended it with Jessica now after pleading with God time and time again to help him make it right?

Where does that leave us?

Wyatt had thought his feelings for Lucy would go away, but more often than not he found himself thinking of her more than the woman who now lay next to him. Being near her again, but kept at arm's distance was torture.

You have a wife that you love and we have to accept that.

But he loved Lucy. And she didn't know. And he couldn't bring himself to tell her. Not when she told him she wasn't going to get in between him and Jessica. That would just complicate things. Hurt her more.

Jessica was Rittenhouse - a false copy of the woman he once loved. Groomed since childhood when a deal was brokered to save her brother. Wyatt felt her betrayal all the more because of the love he had thrown away in a selfish attempt to assuage his pride and relieve his guilt.

Lucy could have died. She was beaten, broken, bloody and had sought out that fight. A battle she should never have had to enter. Wyatt recognized his own hand in that. She was reckless like he had been once. She was filled with rage. She was consumed with grief.

They all were.

I love you, Lucy.

This isn't how he wanted to tell her, but he had to tell her – he had to tell her now, even though he had no reason to expect her to return those feelings. He should've listened to Rufus. He should've told her a long time ago. Maybe then it would've been easier to avoid the trap Rittenhouse had set for them. Maybe then it wouldn't have cost Rufus his life.

Lucy Preston was a saint. Wyatt didn't deserve her. He had been reckless and stupid. He stood by his wife even though he was in love with someone else. He continued to try to save that woman even after she betrayed them all.

Wyatt loved Lucy but he knew he couldn't and shouldn't expect her love in return. He knew he had messed everything up and that she was in her rights to hate him for everything he put her through. Wyatt Logan may be a reckless hothead, but his loyalty, his bravery, and his trust in those he cared about made him the kind of man Lucy Preston couldn't help but be helplessly and hopelessly in love with.

And someday – she would tell him too.