Welcome!
Another writer beat me to the jump today on the general premise of this fic, but I promise to provide a different take.
The idea for this fic came about after listening to "New Year's Day" by Taylor Swift. I found the line please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere in particular, heartbreaking, and wanted to explore what would happen if Wyatt came back from a mission and Lucy was in a different timeline.
There will be angst in this fic, but a lot of happiness as well, with an ultimate happy ending. I hope you enjoy the ride.
... ... ...
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you
And I will hold on to you
"Wyatt?" Lucy croaks, eyes closed as she stirs gently against the scratchy white sheets.
The sinking pit in his gut that he might never hear her voice again ebbs away, and it's like he can truly breathe for the first time in days. For the first time since he frantically carried her limp body from the Lifeboat and put her in the waiting ambulance. Wyatt leans forward in the uncomfortable plastic chair, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, Lucy, I'm right here," he answers, his throat thick and dry from lack of sleep.
"You need to stop," she murmurs.
He strokes his thumb back and forth over her knuckles, brows knitting close together, unsure what she means. "Stop what?" Wyatt asks. He'll do whatever she wants—anything at all—just as long as she's okay. It's the only thing in the world that matters to him.
"Worrying at full volume and staring at me in my sleep." Her eyes remain shut, but there's a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
Wyatt blows out a relieved breath, and swipes away the errant tear on his cheek with the heel of his hand. It's just like her to wake up and immediately start bossing him around. "You're so pretty when you sleep though," he says. Lucy squeezes his hand three times—iI love you/i—the way she has countless times, in countless centuries. He returns the gesture and feels his heart begin to slowly mend back together.
"Water? My throat's on fire."
Fire. His hand shakes as he fills the plastic cup on the tray beside her bed. If he'd been even one minute later, the flames would have engulfed her, and then—Wyatt forces himself to focus on her in the here and now: a concussion, a bandage on her arm concealing a minor second degree burn, and a nasal cannula of oxygen to help her recover from smoke inhalation. All things considered, she's relatively fine. The doctors assured him she'll make a full recovery.
There is no other option for him.
Reaching down in between the railing, he presses the button to incline the head of Lucy's bed. "Here you go," he says quietly, holding the straw up to her lips. She holds the water in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. Wyatt doesn't miss the grimace on her face as it goes down. "Better?"
Lucy's dark head nods imperceptibly, and takes another sip before slowly blinking open her eyes. "Thank you." She takes in her surroundings, sleepy eyes adjusting to the darkened room. "How long have I been out?"
He sits on the edge of her bed and laces their fingers together, needing to anchor himself with her touch. "Two days."
The apology swims in her eyes before the words leave her mouth. "I'm sorry I scared you."
"No—" Wyatt starts, eyes shuttering as he shakes his head. How can she apologize to him when she's the one lying in a hospital bed? "Dammit, Lucy. I'm sorry I wasn't faster. That you—"
"Hey," she whispers, tightening her grip on his hand. "Don't do that. I'm alive, Wyatt. You pulled me out of there and saved me. I'm going to be okay. Promise."
Wyatt leans in and presses his lips tenderly to her forehead. "M'gonna hold you to that."
… … …
She kicks him out in the morning.
Wyatt startles awake when the door opens, and he bolts upright, quickly assessing the threat level of the current situation. He relaxes in spades when Jiya walks in carrying a potted cactus. Rufus is just behind her with a "get well soon" balloon. Lucy flashes a bright, toothy smile, waving them into the room. There's color back in her cheeks, and that eases more of the worry he's been holding on to.
"Aw, you guys! Thank you," Lucy says, voice still rough, but chipper.
"Hey," Wyatt greets, unfolding himself from the lumpy chair in the corner and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He waits until Lucy's finished hugging her new visitors, then pushes to his feet and sits down on the edge of her bed. Before he can even open his mouth to ask how she's feeling today, Lucy crinkles her nose.
"Okay, Wyatt—full offense—you look awful and smell even worse." She trails her fingertip affectionately along the curve of his jaw. "Go home. Sleep. Take a shower. And when you come back, bring me In-N-Out. Please?" He starts to argue, but Lucy closes the gap between them and drops a quick kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she says against his mouth. "I love you."
Well. That's that.
"Do you know who you kind of remind me of right now?" Rufus asks. Wyatt is 100% sure he's going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth next. "That Peanuts character who's always filthy."
"Pigpen," Lucy supplies, trying, and failing, to shield her smile behind her hand.
Jiya snaps her fingers, eyes rounding with delight. "Yes! The one with the little squiggly stink lines."
"Alright, you assholes. You made your point," Wyatt grumbles. Softening his demeanor, he turns back to Lucy. "Get some rest. I'll be back later, burger in hand."
Lucy's mouth ticks up into a lopsided smile. "My hero."
With a tilt of his head, Wyatt motions for Rufus to meet him in the hallway. He waits until the door is firmly closed behind them before speaking.
"Don't leave her alone," Wyatt says lowly, pointing at the door.
Rufus nods, understanding. "I won't. Christopher has uniform and plain clothes officers here, too."
They're close. So fucking close to wiping out Rittenhouse for good. But if there's one thing he's learned in all the time they've been fighting these bastards, it's that they're unpredictable, more so when they're backed into a corner. After the last mission, he's not taking any chances on Lucy's safety.
"Does she know?" Rufus asks. "About her mom?"
Wyatt scrubs a hand over his face, the weight of the last few days sitting heavy on his shoulders. He shakes his head, eyes cast down at the white tiles. "No. She woke up in the middle of the night. It wasn't the right time to tell her."
While it's no secret to anyone—least of all Lucy—that Carol Preston's a monster, it's not going to be an easy pill to swallow once she learns the truth. The truth that Carol left her own daughter for dead in a burning building, then earned a bullet between the eyes from his gun for her efforts.
"I won't say a word. Jiya and I'll keep her company, make sure she rests. Get out of here, man. You're no good to anybody if you let yourself get too run down."
Wyatt can't argue with that and takes his marching orders.
… … ...
He tells her that night, when she asks about the mission that went FUBAR and put her in the hospital. Then he scoots in beside her and holds her while she cries over the truth, terrified that after all they've been through, this could be the thing to drive a permanent wedge between them.
"Our lives are so fucked up," Lucy says finally, after the worst of the crying subsides. "Why couldn't we have met in a bar or something, like normal people?"
Wyatt huffs out a breath that's more relief than amusement. "Eh, normal is boring," he says, swiping the tears on her cheeks away with his pad of his thumb. "Besides, d'you really think I could've fooled you into loving me if we weren't in the trenches together?"
Lucy sighs and pokes him none too gently in the ribs. "You're not dumb, Wyatt. Don't piss me off by pretending to be."
He averts his eyes, feeling appropriately shamed by her words. "Yes, ma'am."
She crooks her index finger under his chin, tipping his head up, waiting for him to meet her gaze head on. There's warmth and love shining back at him that's like a salve against the ache in his chest. "Don't you get it by now? I could live a hundred lifetimes and fall in love with you in every single one of them."
He'd meant it by a shimmering poolside in 1941 and he means it still: Lucy Preston saved his life.
And he loves her beyond measure.
"I do," he whispers, and lays his lips over hers.
… … …
"Can you bring me the shampoo please?" Lucy calls from the shower.
They're holed up in a safehouse Agent Christopher put them up in after Lucy was discharged from the hospital. It's surprisingly nice—Wyatt figures the soft spot she has for Lucy played a role in choosing their accommodations. For the record, he's not complaining in the least. Anything beats the bunker they used to share, and he's relieved that Lucy has a comfortable place to recuperate.
He locates the bag of toiletries they stopped for on the way and walks into the steamy bathroom. Lucy's softly humming a tune he doesn't recognize. It all feels so domestic, so normal that if he tries hard enough, he can almost forget all the bad shit from the last 72 hours. Almost.
Wyatt pulls the bottles from the bag and passes them through the gap in the shower curtain. "Here, babe. You okay?"
There's a pause before she answers, "Um, actually I think I need some help."
A wave of fresh worry for her washes over him, so he pulls back the shower curtain, eyes looking her over for any sign of injury. "What's wrong? What do you need?" he asks.
She startles, dropping the shampoo bottle to the floor. Sue him, but the way her tits bounce with the movement does not go unnoticed. "Jesus," she bites out, narrowing her eyes at him before laughing it off, the sound bouncing off the shower tiles. She bends down to pick up the bottle. "You scared me! Nothing's wrong, it's just difficult for me to wash my hair. Care to help me out with that?" Lucy blinks the water out of her eyes and flashes an innocent smile that experience has taught him is anything but.
Wyatt smirks, trying his level best to keep his eyes from wandering south. "You just got out of the hospital." Apparently he's going full on Captain Obvious, but damn it all, it's hard to think with his brain when there's wet and naked Lucy in front of him inviting him to shower with her.
"I know. Which is why I need help in here," Lucy insists, eyes full of mirth. "The water's fine and I won't bite."
"This feels like a trap," he teases, falling in step with her banter. He tugs the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor.
She rolls her eyes, flicking water in his direction. "Poor Wyatt. The ultimate hardship: having to shower with your girlfriend."
In for a penny, in for a pound, he thinks. Wyatt ditches the rest of his clothes and steps into the shower, drawing the curtain closed behind him.
Victorious is the only word to possibly describe the smile that curls over Lucy's face as she hands over the bottle of shampoo, tipping her head back under the spray to wet her hair. Wyatt clears his throat and lets the urge to fully look at her take over, eyes raking slowly over her lithe body. He's one lucky son of a bitch to have this gorgeous woman love him. "I'm—I'm just in here to wash your hair," he says. It sounds every bit as pathetic and dumb out loud as it did in his head.
Lucy opens her eyes and smirks knowingly. "Uh-huh. Guess you'd better get to it then." She inches closer, chin tipped up, face expectant.
Drops of water dot her dark eyelashes, and it occurs to him in that moment that they've never done this before. Never showered together. Never had the opportunity for such a luxury, really. Not while living in a bunker with the rest of the team, always getting interrupted. So why the hell he's standing around being an idiot and overthinking things when it's finally just the two of them is beyond his comprehension. Opening the shampoo bottle, he squirts what he deems an appropriate amount into the palm of his hand. Lucy giggles. "What, too much?" he asks, aware of the nerves settling in his stomach.
"Yeah, maybe a little. I'm not Rapunzel, you know?" That makes him laugh. Lucy wraps her hands around his waist and the laughter dies in his throat, his heart knocking in his chest. "It's okay, Wyatt," she whispers, "I'm okay. I won't break."
Wyatt's hands slip into her hair, and it's a bit of clumsy start out of the gate. But he's never done this with anyone before either. So he takes his time, gently working up a lather, massaging Lucy's scalp with his fingers. His confidence gains traction when he brushes a spot behind her ear that makes her eyes close and her breath hitch. "Good?"
"Mmm." She leans into his touch, skimming her own fingertips up and down his back. "Yes." Then her head falls back and she helps him rinse out the suds. "Thank you," Lucy says, closing in to wrap her arms around his neck, fitting her lips neatly against his in long, slow kiss.
He's the first to pull back, still not trusting that she's being completely honest about how well she's feeling. Look, he's no saint. There's little in the world he wants more right now than to hitch those long legs around his waist and press her back against the shower wall. But he doesn't allow his hands to stray from their spot at her waist. "Lucy—"
"Hey," she says, cupping his face in her hands, eyes seeking his. "Will you please quit holding back from me? You're starting to give me a complex."
Wyatt sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't want to—"
"Hurt me, I know," Lucy finishes, carding her fingers through his hair, down the back of his neck. "I feel fine. Promise."
He asks again, has to know before he lets the last rapidly fraying tether on his control snap. "Are you sure?"
Lucy nods. "I'm positive. The last few days were terrible, so can we please forget about that for a little while and take advantage of this blissful privacy we have?" They trade smiles. "Let's make each other feel good, Wyatt."
Wyatt kisses her, and there's no more argument from that point forward.
… … …
"For the record, I'm seriously pissed." Lucy presses her lips together and folds her arms over her chest in a huff.
Wyatt glances over at her from the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel and fighting the urge to roll his eyes. She's only told him as much fifteen times. And he gets it, he does. But she has a concussion, and less than 48 hours ago was still in the hospital hooked up to an IV and oxygen. "Yeah, I'm aware," he says evenly. "But everyone agrees that you need more time to heal after the last mission. I'm sorry that you're benched, but it doesn't change anything."
She turns in the passenger's seat and for all intents and purposes, attempts to glare a hole into the side of his head. "I've been risking my life for so long to help take down Rittenhouse, Wyatt. We all have. Now that we're this close to finishing the whole thing, I don't get to see it through. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is for me?" Lucy throws up her hands. "It's like—it's like working on a 1,000 piece puzzle only to have someone else come along and slot in the last piece."
A laugh bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Oh my god! That is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth, and that's saying a lot." He smacks the steering wheel, his laughter echoing throughout the car. Lucy shoves his shoulder and mutters something under her breath. He's not certain, but it sounded suspiciously like eat me. "I did that last night." Wyatt smirks. "And this morning," he adds with a wink.
A blush blooms across Lucy's cheeks. "Smug is not a cute look on you."
"Liar." He places his hand on her thigh. "C'mon, Lucy. I don't wanna fight with you. Not today. You're pissed off and have every right to be. But you know I'm not getting in the Lifeboat until we've cleared the air."
"I know," she says quietly, lacing their fingers together. "I don't want to fight with you either." She squeezes his hand. Three beats.
"For what it's worth, I want you to go," Wyatt says. "I want you to be able to finish this with us. And there's no one else I trust to have my back more than you. But you have a concussion. I'm not sorry that you're staying here when you're still recovering."
She doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity. Finally, he hears her resigned sigh. "You're right," she mutters. "I hate it, but you're right."
Wyatt draws their joined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of Lucy's hand as he turns into the parking lot and kills the engine.
Lucy holds his hand in hers, letting their arms swing between them while they walk towards the building. "When this is all over, you're taking me on a vacation," she says, squinting against the sunshine on her face.
"Deal," he grins down at her. "Where'm I takin' you?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. How do you feel about Bora Bora or Fiji?"
Of all the places he expected her to say, it was definitely not a tropical paradise. He imagined Lucy Preston's dream vacation to consist of endless museum visits and historical landmarks, babbling excitedly about all the random facts she knows that didn't make the placquards. But perhaps after their harrowing adventures in time travel, even Lucy's had her fill. "Hmm...you and me, a little white sand and turquoise water. I'm in. Bikini?"
"I mean, if that's the style of swimsuit you're most comfortable wearing, Wyatt, I won't stop you. Live your truth."
Wyatt tugs her against his side and playfully wraps her in a headlock, making her laugh. "Wiseass."
The door opens and Rufus steps out, wearing his impatient face. "Wyatt, we need to go. Now. Hi, Lucy, how are you feeling?"
"Doing much better," Lucy answers. "Hey, Rufus, wait a second." Untangling herself, she pats Wyatt's chest. "I'll be right back."
He can't hear what they're talking about, but Lucy has Rufus' hands clasped in hers and dogged determination in her eyes. Eventually, she throws her arms around him in a fierce hug. Rufus smiles at her, then walks back inside.
"Everything okay?" Wyatt asks, stepping up behind Lucy.
She nods, blinking back tears when she turns around. "All good. I told Rufus to watch your six."
"Watch my six?" he asks, lips curving into a grin. "I really am rubbing off on you." He cups her face, tipping up her chin. "What's with the tears?"
"Nothing," she says, as a few spill down her face. "I think I'm just a little uneasy not going with you guys." She grips the front of his shirt with both hands. "Promise me that you'll be careful."
Wyatt kisses her then, the way he wants. A goodbye that would be inappropriate in front of others. He kisses her until his head swims and they're both short on breath. He keeps her face cradled in his hands when he pulls away. "I promise. I'll see you soon." Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he whispers, "I love you, Lucy Preston." He finds his arms full of Lucy then, wrapping him in a hug.
"I love you, too."
… … …
Jiya's visions and Lucy's journal are the keys to putting the team two steps ahead and driving the final nail in the Rittenhouse coffin.
The hired goons du jour are child's play to deal with. Wyatt and Flynn each picking one off in their pursuit of the last known sleeper agent, Emma, and Nicholas Keynes.
Rufus and Jiya set the trap, and what remains of Rittenhouse walk right into an ambush.
In the end, the sleeper, Emma, and Nicholas get what's coming to them. Their blood staining the earth beneath their lifeless bodies outside the Mothership. Rufus rigs it with C4 and once they're a safe distance away, they blow the fucking thing to smithereens, lighting up the dark like the 4th of July.
Wyatt doesn't go so far to say that it feels good to end the lives of these psychopaths. That's a line he's not willing to cross. He had a job to do and he did it. They all did what was necessary.
There's no celebrating when they get back in the Lifeboat. They're not heartless monsters.
But he knows that they'll all sleep better tonight than they have in years.
… … …
The Lifeboat lands back at the warehouse. Wyatt breathes through the nausea, taking a moment for his world to quit spinning so he doesn't eat shit on his way down the stairs. He wants to find Lucy first, to show that he delivered on his promise of making it back in one piece, and that they neutralized Rittenhouse once and for all. Then he'll sit through Agent Christopher's endless questioning without complaint.
Climbing out of the Lifeboat, he expects to see Lucy front and center right alongside Agent Christopher and Mason. When he doesn't spot her, his eyes dart around the room to catch a glimpse. There's still no sign of her, and he worries about how she's feeling, if the concussion is giving her more problems.
"Welcome back," Agent Christopher greets.
Wyatt hurries down the stairs and approaches her. "Where's Lucy?"
Agent Christopher frowns, her eyebrows knitting together. "Who's Lucy?"