Gone Girl
It had been nearly three days since they'd brought her home from 1918 France, away from her mother and all things Rittenhouse, and life in the bunker had begun to settle down into a new routine. Although their current living conditions were less than ideal and could definitely be considered rather spartan (at best), that didn't seem too important any more. Wyatt and the others had been so happy the team was back together, that Lucy was here, alive and well, that during the first day, no one, least of all him, seemed to notice that it may not have been "their" Lucy who had tiredly climbed out of the lifeboat that morning.
This woman looked like their Lucy-albeit a thinner, paler version who seldom smiled (and definitely hadn't laughed much, if at all) since she'd returned. He guessed she sounded like their Lucy, well, mostly. She had been fairly quiet the past couple days, so it was hard to tell. If he were being completely honest with himself, Wyatt couldn't necessarily put into words what he'd been expecting after reuniting with Lucy, yet somehow this fell disappointingly short. What the hell had happened to her while her mother and those Rittenhouse bastards held her captive? His Lucy was strong and brave and passionate, a fighter, and this woman was none of those things, just some kind of hollow copy of the woman he loved, and it was confusing and frustrating as hell to behold.
At supper time, he purposefully watched while Lucy made a show of pushing the food around her plate without actually consuming any real sustenance, growing increasingly concerned when after a half hour or so, she had maybe eaten two bites. The others didn't seem to notice, probably because she was making a token effort to participate in the conversation. But Wyatt knew Lucy, had pictured her in his head numerous times a day during their separation, and, Jesus, how had he not noticed before today the deepening shadows under her dark eyes, the unhealthy pallor of her skin, a new sharpness to her cheekbones. And while she had always been slim, deceptively fragile looking at times even, this Lucy was practically swimming in the clothes Jiya had lent her.
Wyatt thought back to their conversation in the sleeping quarters the first afternoon upon their return, the utterly blank expression on Lucy's face when she informed him that not only had she killed an innocent man that morning, but it had been her intention to blow up the mother ship if that was what it took to destroy Rittenhouse. His horrified dismay at her flatly-delivered confession that she had not only considered, but actually made the decision to essentially sacrifice herself, had grown exponentially as she continued to speak in a lifeless, defeated monotone about being the last one standing, that she thought he was dead and the lifeboat destroyed in the explosion at Mason Industries.
Desperate to shake her from this disturbing state of mind, he made the thoughtless mistake of questioning her less than confident assumption that Carol Preston would have kept Emma from killing her. The trance was immediately broken when she swallowed audibly and shakily admitted in response, "No." Wyatt felt like a real asshole when Lucy's face crumpled and she sobbed, "I've lost everything." Leaping up from Jiya's cot, he sat down beside her and putting an arm around her, pulled Lucy's trembling body close while she cried softly against his neck. Her utter devastation in that moment broke Wyatt's heart.
Although unsure if she was ready to hear it, he held her tighter and hesitated barely a second before promising, "You haven't lost me." At his earnest words, she reached up blindly to cup Wyatt's neck before grasping his cheek and turning his face to hers. Blinking through her tears, her lips instinctively parted as he leaned in, near enough to feel her ragged breaths against his mouth. The intensity of the moment, the closest they had been physically since their kiss in 1934, was shattered, however, when without warning, Jiya appeared in the open doorway. Lucy stiffened and instantly leaned away from him, although Wyatt managed to keep his arm around her, continuing to rub her shoulder comfortingly. (Dammit, Jiya, you couldn't have waited, like, ten more seconds?)
"Hey, guys-sorry-sorry to interrupt, but you're gonna want to see this," Jiya said, dropping her gaze guiltily before turning and practically running back down the hallway. Wyatt had sighed inwardly, unhappily aware the moment had passed, and judging by Lucy's behavior since then, as far as she was concerned, the moment had not only passed, but was likely gone for good. Except, no, hell, no, he didn't accept that, not by a long shot. He hadn't suffered through the agony of their six weeks apart without losing hope even once to just give up on her now that Lucy was here, safe with him where she belonged.
Despite his apprehension, Lucy had apparently been so exhausted by her ordeal that she slept through most of her first night back, a fact that Jiya had confirmed when Wyatt pulled her aside after breakfast. She had promised to keep an eye on Lucy for him, since it was abundantly clear from the invisible wall she'd hastily constructed around herself that Lucy had been embarrassed by her breakdown and their interrupted kiss. Like there was any way Wyatt could ever consider thinking less of her, no matter what the reason. As if.
Unfortunately, as the hours passed slowly, he became more convinced than ever that whatever Lucy had experienced during those six weeks had been more terrible and frightening than any of them could've imagined. Only Denise Christopher knew for sure. Lucy had spent most of her first full day in the bunker alone with the NSA agent, emerging from the marathon debriefing session right before supper with red, teary eyes and her features arranged in a pale, implacable mask. Alarmed, Wyatt had tried to follow Lucy when she studiously avoided making eye contact with him and immediately headed for the sleeping quarters, but Agent Christopher's firm hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. "Let her go, Wyatt, trust me. I know you have only her best interests at heart, but Lucy's going to need a little time to process everything."
Before Wyatt could stop himself, his worst fears fell compulsively from his lips, "Process what, exactly? What did she tell you? Did those bastards hurt her? Physically, I mean?"
Christopher's quick denial allayed some of his trepidation, at least until she gravely reminded him, "As you are well aware, Wyatt, not all wounds are physical." Then patting his arm reassuringly, she advised, "I'm afraid you're going to have to rein in that impatient recklessness of yours this time. Even though you mean well, if you push Lucy to unburden herself before she's ready, it will likely cause more harm than good. Just be patient, and trust in your feelings for each other." When his eyes widened in surprise and a blush warmed his cheeks, she flashed a genuine smile and said dryly, "What, like it's supposed to be a big secret? You do know I'm NSA, right?" and shaking her head in amusement, bid him good night.
Gazing after her, Wyatt thought wryly, "The hell? First Rufus, now Christopher?" He vaguely recalled years of being so skilled at maintaining an emotionless facade no matter the circumstances that some of his DF buddies had nicknamed him 'Stoneface,' a moniker he didn't actually mind. Well, damn–what happened to that guy? Guess it didn't take a rocket scientist (or a time machine genius, for that matter) to figure it out. Less than a year spent in close proximity on dangerous, highly-stressful missions with a certain smart, feisty, beautiful brunette, and it appeared that Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan was damn near useless. And oddly enough, Wyatt found he didn't mind that at all.
Now, though, after giving serious consideration to Agent Christopher's advice, he concluded reluctantly that she was probably right about Lucy, and therefore, he forced himself to suppress his natural instincts and give her a little space, although it damn near killed him to do it. Wyatt sat through their evening meal in sullen silence while the conversation swirled around him, filled with worry about Lucy, wondering how to even begin helping someone who barely (if at all) acknowledged she was struggling, let alone willingly wanted and needed him.
"Wyatt, hey, tonight's your turn for kitchen duty," he looked up to see Jiya's sympathetic dark gaze, and glancing around, noticed the others had already cleared out. "Um, listen, not to bust your chops or anything, since I know you're really worried about Lucy, but you seriously need to cut back on the dark and brooding vibe, 'cause it's super noticeable, and I'm pretty sure it's not having the effect on her you might be hoping for."
Attempting to hide his chagrin at being caught out, Wyatt tried at first to deflect by muttering defensively, "I don't know what you mean," but when she rolled her eyes at him in fond exasperation, his bravado faded, leaving him feeling weary and defeated. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Wyatt looked up at Jiya and confessed, "Fine. This–she–is not exactly what I had in mind for the last six weeks."
Jiya's face softened at his obvious confusion and despair, and taking a seat beside him, encouraged, "Okay, then, what did you expect?" and waited patiently while Wyatt gathered his thoughts.
"It sounds pretty naive and stupid when I say it out loud, but I guess the whole time we were apart, I kept telling myself that she was alive and once we got her back, everything would be fine and like it was before. And it's definitely not working out that way. It's like the old Lucy is gone somehow, to a place I can't follow. She's shutting me out, and it's making me crazy. Jiya, I need to know what happened to her, but I'm also afraid. What if I can't reach her or she needs more than I can give her?"
Wyatt's anxiety eased slightly when Jiya smiled kindly at him. "You're a good guy, Wyatt Logan, and it's pretty clear that you're really worried about Lucy and getting frustrated because you want to help her. But I think if you can just hang in there, give Lucy some space, and be ready when she does need you, things will work out, okay?"
After contemplating her words, he nodded reluctantly and said, "Thanks, Jiya, you're a good friend," and chuckled when she readily agreed with him.
"Yes, yes, I am, so don't you forget that the next time I walk in on you in the bathroom or make a mess in the kitchen, or just get on your nerves in general, okay?" and stuck out her tongue playfully when he rolled his eyes at her.
Once he finished clearing the table and washing and drying the dishes, Wyatt walked back to the new, cobbled together platform in front of the lifeboat to see what the others were up to. Rufus and Connor were huddled around one of the laptops, tossing around words Wyatt was pretty sure he couldn't spell, let alone pronounce. There was no sign of Lucy or Jiya. Not wanting to watch a movie by himself, he decided to work out for a while before bed time, hoping the physical exertion would help him sleep.
A few hours later, Wyatt was startled from a sound sleep by a hand on his bare shoulder. His eyes popped open to see Jiya peering wearily down at him. "Jiya?" he whispered hoarsely, "What's wrong? Is it Lucy?"
Nodding tiredly, she answered, "She's really restless tonight, and she's said your name a couple times. I think you better go check on her," and with that, she climbed into Rufus' bed and curling around him, fell asleep.
Hastily throwing a tee shirt over his head, Wyatt hurried to the girls' room, only to find Lucy muttering and twisting restlessly in her sleep. Kneeling down beside her, he cautiously put his hand on her arm and murmured, "Lucy, I'm here, you're safe now." Nothing. Whatever dream or nightmare she was experiencing, it had a tenacious hold on her. Leaning over the bed, Wyatt grasped her shoulder and squeezed gently and tried again. "Lucy, wake up now, it's alright, I'm here," and jerked back when her eyes opened suddenly and she came up swinging. Carefully grabbing her wrists, he tried to calm her, "Whoa, Lucy, take it easy, it's just me, you're okay."
Abruptly, Lucy stilled and gazing up at him with wild eyes, asked, "Wyatt? Are you real? Am I dreaming?" and the frightened bewilderment in her voice nearly did him in. Without hesitation, he sat on the side of the cot and gathered her in his arms, shushing Lucy when she began to cry, heartbreaking sobs that shook her slender body. Finally, several long moments later, her tears lessened and when she started to pull away from him, self-consciously swiping at her tear-stained cheeks, his body immediately missed the slight warmth of hers.
Tenderly pushing Lucy's tangled dark hair back from her forehead, Wyatt asked, "Are you alright now? Think you can go back to sleep?" He wasn't surprised, though, when she vehemently shook her head, shuddering at the thought. "Well, how about a cup of tea, then? I think Jiya has a box of the sleepy kind in the kitchen." He held his breath until she nodded jerkily, and pushing the covers back, swung her long legs over the side of cot. Noticing her bare feet, Wyatt suggested she might want to put on a pair of socks or something, reminding Lucy how cold the bunker's concrete floors could be, especially in the middle of the night. Wordlessly, she retrieved a sweatshirt and thick pair of socks from the dresser she and Jiya shared while he waited.
Pleased that she was letting him take care of her, even just a little, once she was ready, Wyatt took Lucy's hand and unerringly led the way through the dark, winding corridor to the dimly-lit kitchen area. "This place is so quiet at night, it's kind of creepy," he confided, breaking the hushed silence, earning him a slight frown and fervent nod of agreement from Lucy. Wyatt squeezed her hand comfortingly before letting go to flip on the overhead light.
While he moved to the stove to put the teakettle on, Lucy perched herself on one of the chairs around the dinged up wooden table, pulling her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. Seemingly content to just watch him as he grabbed a couple of thick stoneware mugs and the box of tea bags from the cupboard, she waited until the teakettle was on and Wyatt turned and took a seat beside her before speaking.
Clearing her throat, Lucy observed quietly, "You seem pretty at home here in this lovely, modern kitchen, Master Sergent," and when he grinned in appreciation, gave Wyatt a shy smile.
"Well, thank you, Ma'am, but I'm afraid it all came down to possessing a certain skill set or not. Emphasis on not, in my case, unfortunately, when it had anything to do with repairing the lifeboat. So, I guess by default, I made myself useful in other ways," he said lightly. Just then, the teakettle began to whistle, and Wyatt busied himself fixing their tea. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught her intent gaze, and his face warmed at the unguarded emotion in her soft brown eyes. Turning back to the counter, Wyatt closed his eyes in relief at the fleeting glimpse of his Lucy that he saw just now.
He carefully set the full mugs of hot liquid on the table and snagged a large plastic container from the cupboard before sitting down beside Lucy. At her quizzical expression, he explained, "Michelle Christopher has taken it upon herself to keep the bunker supplied with home-baked stuff. I think she feels sorry for us because at least once a week, she sends something with her wife, like cookies and brownies. Considering what's usually on the menu, this is a real treat." Removing the lid, he pushed the container across the table, gratified to see Lucy take two of the chocolate chip cookies. Wyatt paused in mid bite when he heard her tiny moan of pleasure as she devoured the first cookie. (Well, hell, he could listen to that sound all night long.) "Good, right?" he coaxed, and his breath caught at the sweet smile Lucy bestowed on him, and he suddenly realized that this was the first time since she'd come home that they had been alone together. And just the thought made Wyatt happier than he'd been in weeks.
They enjoyed their midnight snack in companionable stillness, broken only when Lucy set her empty mug down and sighed in satisfaction. "You were right, Michelle's cookies are delicious, and I liked the tea very much." Biting her lower lip, she glanced down at the table before gazing up at him with a troubled expression. "Wyatt? Can I tell you something?" At his immediate nod, she took a deep breath and began in a soft voice, "I'm not unaware that my hesitation to talk through some stuff has probably been hard on you the past couple days. And I apologize for that. It might not seem like it, but I do understand and appreciate that you are obviously concerned about me and want to help. I wish I could tell you that everything is fine and that I'm okay, but I think we both know that would be a lie," and his heart ached when she fell silent, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
Wyatt impulsively leaned over and took her cold hand in his. "Thank you for telling me. And I'm sorry for acting, let me see, how did Jiya put it? 'All dark and brooding' because yeah, apparently it's a pretty poorly kept secret around here that I am worried about you, Lucy. But I think, at least I hope, you trust me enough that when the time is right, you will feel comfortable enough to share whatever you like with me," and his mind eased when she pressed her lips together and blinking through her tears, nodded. "Are you getting sleepy yet? 'Cause if not, I was thinking maybe I could tell you a little about what happened with the rest of us while we were separated."
Encouraged by her tentative smile, Wyatt stood and set the empty mugs in the sink and put the cookies back in the cupboard. "C'mon, Professor, follow me," and held out his hand, relieved when without hesitation, Lucy got up from the table and put her hand trustingly in his. After turning off the kitchen light, they made their way along the corridor, past the sleeping quarters, around a couple corners, until they ended up in a large open room near the back of the silo. On one side was a weight bench with a few assorted barbells stacked neatly beside it. Across the room sat a battered sofa that had been placed in front of a cheap stand holding a new-looking flat screen television and blu ray player.
Pulling Lucy over to the sofa, Wyatt was pleased by the mild interest on her face as she glanced around the room, and offered, "Yeah, it's not much to look at, but this is, I guess for lack of a better word, the rec room. Basically just a place for us to unwind sometimes, take a break once in while, especially on days when our new reality can be hard to take." Stretching out on the sofa, Wyatt opened his arms, and invited Lucy to lay down, "just for a little while, Ma'am, while I share a few things with you," and was relieved when she readily curled up against him, her back to his front. Plucking an old blanket from the back of the sofa, Wyatt draped it carefully over the two of them. Lucy shivered once, then thankfully, with a soft sigh, began to relax in his arms.
Briefly closing his eyes, Wyatt discreetly inhaled the fragrance of her soft hair, savoring the feel of her pliant body pressed firmly against his. For the first time in a really long time, in spite of the insanity of their lives right now, he felt more at peace at this very moment than he had in years. All those tortuous days and weeks he'd endured without Lucy were over. No longer gone, she was right here in his arms, exactly where she should be, and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone take her away from him ever again. And whatever it took to help Lucy, to get her 'over the hump,' he would do willingly, without complaint. He was confident that when the time was right, and she felt comfortable enough to confide in him, she would. Wyatt Logan wasn't normally a patient man, but for Lucy, he vowed to learn how to be, starting right now. With one arm under her head, Wyatt wrapped his other arm securely around her waist and began to speak in a low, intimate voice.
A/N: After episode two seemingly opens at least a week or more after the events of episode one, guess I was just in the mood for a little bit of Wyatt comforting Lucy during those first couple of days after they were reunited. That IS what fanfic is for, right, lol? Hope everyone is enjoying our miracle second season as much as I am. As always, my sincere appreciation to everyone who reads, favorites, follows, and if you're so inclined, reviews my stories :))