Timeless Fanfiction

A Woman Out of Time

Written By: R. Lane Koby

Disclaimer & Author's Note: This is a fictional work based on the characters and plot of the TV show "Timeless." Original characters will be added into this fanfiction to supplement a new alterative storyline. Though the plot is set in Colonial America, this story is not factual or historically accurate.

Synopsis: During one of their missions, Lucy meets a woman whom she cannot simply leave behind.

[September 18, 1681]

The lifeboat landed. Rufus slowly opened the door to reveal the pristine, untouched land green with glory and rich with prosperity. Perched neatly on the bank of the Ohio River, the three travelers exited their vehicle. Wyatt expressed his concerns about landing in such a commercial hotspot, fearing that a riverboat or trader caravan could easily come across their timecraft. However, as Lucy explained, this part of the country had yet to become the robust economic trade route of the future, and it was more likely that a tribe of Native Americans would discover the lifeboat while hunting. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to decipher a valuable reason why Flynn had traveled to Ohio in the year 1681. She failed to recall a significant historical event during this time, which had left her and the team feeling even more anxious that usual. Disguised as colonials traveling with a servant, Wyatt, Lucy, and Rufus trekked the muddy banks of the Ohio in search of a sign that would lead them to Flynn.

"Why the hell would Flynn come to Ohio in 1681? Besides the fact that it's largely uninhabited during this time period, I thought Rittenhouse didn't exist until the late 1700's?" Wyatt asked as he hurdled over a piece of large driftwood that had settled upon the bank. He turned back and extended his hand to Lucy, who stepped over the driftwood delicately.

"Flynn said they were established in the late 1700's," Lucy noted, "but we don't know how far back the roots of Rittenhouse actually go. Before it was Rittenhouse, it may have been something else… or someone else. It may have been a movement, a cause, or a philosophy. It could have been anything."

"We're chasing ghosts," Rufus scoffed.

"No," Wyatt corrected, "We're chasing Flynn." He paused and then added, "Flynn is chasing ghosts."

"Flynn isn't randomly jumping through time. His destinations are calculated and meaningful. Whatever the reason is, you can be sure that it's linked to Rittenhouse," Lucy sighed, "I just wish I could think of something that might help us."

"Well, we'll just have to make it up as we go, right?" Wyatt smirked.

"Look!" Rufus exclaimed. He pointed to a trail of smoke floating up from the trees about half a mile up the river.

Wyatt pulled out his gun and turned to his companions, "We stay together."

They nodded in agreement and cautiously made their way towards the smoke. As they inched closer to the campsite, the sounds of Native American drums and flutes echoed throughout the forest. Wyatt spotted a tree with low branches and instructed Rufus and Lucy to wait at the base of the tree while he climbed up for a better view. Once he was about thirty feet up, he could see a community of longhouses with several Native Americans gathered around. They had built a sizeable fire and were roasting a large hog, while the children laughed and danced to the music. Wyatt took a moment to appreciate the profound opportunity of witnessing such a rare picture of early American history with his own eyes before slowly climbing back down the tree.

"Did you see Flynn?" Rufus asked apprehensively.

"No," Wyatt replied, "but the Natives seem friendly."

Rufus scratched the back of his head, "Friendly? Did you forget what happened the last time we ran into Native Americans? They tied us up and marked you for death. They were going to kill you."

"But they didn't," Lucy interjected.

Before Rufus had a chance to argue, the drums and flutes suddenly stopped and an eerie silence fell upon the forest. The three time travelers stood absolutely still, eyeing the woods around them carefully. After several minutes, Wyatt let out a deep exhale. "We should head back and keep following the river," he whispered.

"Halt!" a voice boomed from behind them, "Do not move!"

The three turned quickly; to their amazement, a man wearing a colorful headdress and carrying a large musket greeted them. Six braves stood to each side of him, their bows and arrows drawn and aimed at the intruders before them. It was a show of great force that commanded respect. Wyatt understood this immediately, and as he raised his hands above his head, Lucy and Rufus did the same.

"We mean no harm," Wyatt spoke loudly.

"You climb our trees," the chief replied.

"We are looking for someone."

"There is no one here for you."

"I agree," Wyatt nodded, "We were just about to leave."

The chief instructed his braves to lower their bows. He approached the three travelers, eyeing Rufus closely, "You have a slave." Rufus swallowed heavily and cast his gaze to the ground. The chief tilted his head slightly and inquisitively asked, "I have often wondered… Why do your people not fight for freedom against the white man?"

"I am free," Rufus replied uneasily. He fought to keep his nerves in check, but it felt as if his heart could burst through his chest, "These are my friends, not my masters."

The chief glanced back over to Wyatt and Lucy, and then back to Rufus. He chuckled, "Your friends? I knew your kind was weak, but foolish as well?"

"Rufus is not weak," Lucy defended fiercely, "He is a strong and brilliant man. We're privileged to travel with him."

Suddenly, a young woman stepped behind the chief. Wyatt and Lucy noticed her immediately. She appeared in traditional Native American garb, yet there was something conspicuously different that set her apart from the other tribesmen. Her pale blue eyes with dark wavy hair and tan complexion made for a unique look that was both exotic and intoxicating; she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her mere presence shifted the mood amongst the Natives, as they all seemed to anticipate a response from her.

"Father," the woman called out. The chief heard his daughter's distinct voice, but did not turn to face her. Instead he rested his eyes on Wyatt. "Father, these souls walk with the Great Spirit. The light shines brightly upon their faces. We must not harm them."

After several prolonged moments, the chief announced, "Nokomis has found favor in you. You may join us for the night." He turned and dismissed his braves. Rufus exhaled deeply as a wave of relief washed over his body.

Nokomis approached her father, they shared a brief exchange in their Native tongue, and then the chief kissed his daughter on the cheek before heading back to camp. Wyatt was first to approach Nokomis; he thanked her graciously, and introduced himself and the others.

"The sky above us grows darker," Nokomis spoke softly, "but you will be safe with my father's people."

Rufus laughed lightly, "Is your father always that intimidating?"

"Yes," Nokomis smiled. "Come, we can talk more at our camp."

II

When Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus entered the camp, they felt the heavy gaze of dozens of eyes upon them, but Nokomis assured them they had nothing to fear from the Iroquois. Wyatt kept his guard up, as did Rufus, but Lucy had slipped into a more relaxed and comfortable state as she absorbed the culture around her like a sponge. She hung on Nokomis's every word, and was captivated by her many attributes. How could history have left out such a prominent female figure? The biracial daughter of a great Iroquois chief who practiced medicine and helped her father's people trade and communicate with colonials should be at the centerpiece of American history, or at the very least the heart of American folklore; yet, no mention of such a woman existed. Regardless, Lucy was determined to make the most of this profound opportunity. Eager to speak with Nokomis further, she accompanied her to her longhouse later that evening.

The longhouse was well built and sturdy; inside, it was illuminated with a soft orange glow from the hearth and several oil lanterns. She had decorated in traditional Iroquoian fashion, with inflections of English and French ornamentation, a true reflection of her unique heritage. Nokomis had a marvelous selection of herbs and medicines shelved on a wall next to her desk, which was covered in medical journals and papers. She invited Lucy to sit next to her by the hearth. Nokomis poured her new friend a generous cup of wine.

"Have you always lived with the Iroquois?" Lucy asked as she sipped from her cup and enjoyed the soothing crackles and pops from the fire.

"No," Nokomis replied, "I was born in Virginia. I didn't join my father's people till I was seventeen."

"May I ask why?"

Nokomis inhaled and cleared her throat; "I simply couldn't keep up the charade any longer. The townsfolk made no secret of their distrust and disapproval of me, and my mother had long ago given up any hopes she had of me living a… conventional colonial life. I ached for liberation, and only knew one way to obtain it." Nokomis sighed, "I had barely met my father a handful of times throughout the years, and always under the most discrete of circumstances. He only visited during the darkness of night, but he faithfully brought supplies and gifts for both my mother and me. In fact, it was he who gave me my first medical journal. He traded his finest horse for it," Nokomis beamed in delight. "I'll never forget the night I asked to join his tribe. I feared he would turn me away, and I would feel rejected by him, just as I felt rejected by the white man," Nokomis paused for a moment then continued, "but he couldn't have been happier to accept my offer. He told me he had dreamed of a great healer who would one day mend the Iroquois Nation, both spiritually and physically. He believed I would be that great healer."

"Wow..." Lucy replied, finding herself at a loss for words, which certainly wasn't a problem she experienced often. "That's… extraordinary."

"It's quite the expectation to live up to," Nokomis remarked. "I've buried myself in every medical document accessible to me, and for the last five years, I've been traveling many of the trade routes through Virginia and New York, acquiring even more information. Occasionally, I'm granted the opportunity to meet with others in the medical field. Though it is not easy to break down the enormous barriers of our cultures, our races… or our sex," Nokomis laughed. "White men grow exceedingly irritated, and often intimated, by a woman who expresses great intellect. Meanwhile, the Iroquois value their women tremendously. My sisters and clan mothers own land, are great healers and scholars, and participate in the political activities of the tribe. It is a stark difference from the life I lived before…"

"I know how it feels to leave one life behind for another," Lucy replied, "and I've spent my entire adult life analyzing historical documents down to the smallest of details. I admire your determination and perseverance, Nokomis. It's nothing short of miraculous. I have no doubt you'll be the great healer your father dreamed of."

Nokomis poured them both more wine, "You are very kind. Thank you," she smiled. She traced the rim of her cup with her finger, pondering her next statement carefully, "Your husband must be very forward thinking… to be so supportive of your own intellectual endeavors."

"My husband?" Lucy asked curiously. "Oh, ha, you mean Wyatt? Wyatt isn't my husband."

"A potential suitor?" Nokomis asked.

Lucy smirked, "No. Wyatt is…" she sighed, "Well, he's just Wyatt. He's a good friend; that's all. I've no interest in marriage."

Nokomis nodded, "I see. Perhaps we are more like-minded than I presumed. She stood from the hearth and gathered more logs from the tinderbox. She tossed them onto the fire, before returning to her seat near Lucy. Nokomis noticed the distant look that had suddenly appeared in the other woman's eyes, and she recognized her new friend had drifted deep into thought. Meanwhile, Lucy felt a buzzing in her head and a warm tingle in her cheeks as the affects of the wine became evident. She had practically forgotten she was in Colonial America. It was possibly the most surreal moment she had experienced thus far in her time travels; yet, it felt so natural and instinctive. Nokomis set down her drink and leaned closer to Lucy, their gazes interlocked, and Nokomis stared intensely into her eyes, "What is weighing on your soul so heavily?" Nokomis asked thoughtfully.

Lucy resisted the urge to discuss her tribulations. Never had she been so tempted to reveal herself to someone during a mission, but she knew the risk was far too great, and it would only complicate and compromise their assignment. Instead, she decided to focus what was left of her limited time on discovering more about the chief's daughter, "Oh, it's nothing," Lucy laughed, "I'm just not used to such strong drink, or such mesmerizing company."

Nokomis smiled warmly. She reached over and took Lucy's hand in her own, "Well, then, that makes two of us."