For a few seconds after the two newcomers step out of the Lifeboat, there is only silence. After everything that has happened to her in the past year or so, Lucy thinks she should've become quite prone to surprises.
But this. This is a surprise she could not have anticipated, not in her wildest dreams.
The woman, she looks like her. Is her. But everything about her looks the way Lucy does not feel. Calm, confident, in control. If Lucy was a shadow, out of focus –this woman was painted in sharp relief, rugged clothes against toned skin, hair cut abruptly short, skin supporting a healthy glow that seemed almost criminal in the dank air of the bunker.
If she wasn't wearing an identical face, Lucy would not have recognized her.
And then there is the man beside her. They wear the same language, look to be constructed from the same skin. The beard is obviously the most distinct change, but while her Wyatt was always splintering, jagged from the edges, this man seemed to have polished himself anew. There was a clarity to him, a surety in the broadness of his shoulders, in the strong lines of his arms. He leaned out of the Lifeboat with practiced ease, and when he turned his expectant gaze onto them, there was not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes.
But amidst all the awed surprise, the absolute absurdity of seeing her own self standing in front of her, the thing that sticks out is Rufus. They're here to save Rufus.
She had learned time and time again how devastating it was to have hoped and to have that hope ripped away, but still, she can't stop the sudden abundance of it from flooding her chest, lightly numbing the pain wrapped like capillaries around her heart. She still can't look away from them, these strangers wearing their faces, and the questions rise in her like tides. She opens her mouth-
Jiya beats her to it. "This isn't possible," she says, voice holding every inch of the vulnerability and rawness they were all feeling. And underneath it, hope, messy, precarious hope. "You can't travel to a time you already exist. It's not –it's not possible."
Future-Lucy gives Jiya a smile that's infinitely soft. "You made this possible, Jiya. You and Conner, you've been working on this for years. It's finally time to bring Rufus home."
They all assess the words, the implication of the life they paint.
"What –what year are you from?" Wyatt asks. He looks ashen, his disbelief momentarily displacing the weight that had settled so steeply in the slump of his shoulders. The declaration of his love still rings messily inside her ears and she both wants to bottle the memory and dispose of it forever.
"2023," Future-Wyatt replies, "We've lived almost five years without Rufus. And even though we've survived, it's cost us too much." He and future-Lucy share a mutual glance and then he continues, tone somber, "Rufus deserves to be here. You deserve to have him in your lives."
The simple words rip away something inside her heart and even though she doesn't blink, she can feel the moisture gathering in her eyes. "What do you need us to do?" she asks, hoarsely.
"We still have only two more seats in the Lifeboat," her future self says. "So two of you can accompany us to 1888." She looks at Lucy, something in her eyes softening in remembrance. "We're going to stop Emma before she takes the killing shot."
With the clarity of an active warzone, the sound of gunfire thunders in her ears as she sees herself aiming her gun at Emma again and again and again. That desperation, that fury, rises in her like it had never left and she wants to hold Future-Lucy's words close to her heart, lock them up until they can be gleaned into reality.
"Why come here?" Conner asks, stepping forwards, "Why didn't you go to save Rufus by yourself? The timeline would have adjusted itself. We would be none the wiser."
Future-Lucy looks like she was expecting the question and even though she's addressing all of them, her eyes bore into her younger self, letting her know that there was something in the words that was only for her. "It's important that you know what Emma did. It's important that someone remembers what happened –so it can never happen again."
There is a beat of heavy silence and then Lucy lets down her chin in a hesitant nod.
"Jiya," Future-Wyatt addresses softly. "You can decide if you want to come with us or not. Our Jiya –the future you- she decided to stay behind. When we alter the timeline, she won't remember Rufus ever being dead." Future-Wyatt's eyes flicker momentarily to the woman beside him; his gaze is heavy with a muted kind of grief. "Only we will remember."
Jiya looks stricken, like both the options are too much. She looks towards Conner and Denise, as if hoping one of them would tell her what to do, but nobody interjects. It's a decision she would have to make herself.
"You can take time to think," Future-Lucy says, but everyone can tell, from the way she and her partner don't try to step down from the Lifeboat, that they would prefer it if the decision was quick. She would be in a hurry too, Lucy thinks, if it had been five years since she had last seen one of her best friends.
Jiya takes a deep breath, collects her thoughts. Then she shakes her head, eyes tearing up, "You –you should go. I don't want to remember either."
"Okay," Future-Lucy acknowledges gently. She turns her gaze back to her younger self.
"Lucy, Wyatt," Future-Lucy addresses them both. The four of them have a weird moment where they stare at each, a rope stretching taught between four intersections, pinging off separate points of tension. Lucy wondered whether the future version of her understood exactly what she was feeling right now, if she knew that she would never back down from a chance to go after her friend, no matter how dangerous. "You two in?"
Beside her, Wyatt nods without hesitation. She finds herself doing the same.
Future-Lucy smiles and tilts her head back towards the Lifeboat, "Well, get on in."
Her hands shake as she buckles herself into the familiar seat inside the new Lifeboat. Across from her, Wyatt looks just as shaky as she feels. But the future versions of them are what really spins her head. As the latch of the Lifeboat closes behind them, Future-Lucy takes the pilot's seat. It's another thing about her that Lucy can't reconcile with herself, just like purpose in her stride, just like the shotgun that she takes off from her back before settling into the pilot's station with practiced ease.
Future-Wyatt takes a seat beside Lucy on the Lifeboat's remaining seat. He looks up, gives her and Wyatt a small smile that's almost apologetic.
"I know this is a lot," he says, buckling himself in. "But I've been where you are. I know that bringing Rufus back trumps whatever else you might be feeling right now."
Lucy feels like she can't look at this version of Wyatt too closely without feeling strangely overwhelmed. He exudes a confidence and assuredness that at once calms her down and makes her feel like the world's tilting off its axis. She can tell from the look in his eyes, that her Wyatt is having a hard time dealing with the future him too. He looks lost; he looks confused.
And strangely, he looks almost hopeful.
"When did you learn to pilot the Lifeboat?" Wyatt asks Future-Lucy.
"Jiya taught us both," Future-Lucy evades, turning her neck to answer. Then she grins almost slyly, turning back towards the controls, "But believe me when I say, you do not want to be in this thing when Wyatt's flying."
Future-Wyatt rolls his eyes indulgently but the mirth in his gaze betrays him. The Lifeboat starts up, the noise of the grinding metal filling her ears. The ground is smoother underneath her feet compared to the Lifeboat still sitting in the hangar.
Suddenly everything catches up to her, who they were with, what they were doing, the entirely-too-high stakes of it all.
She catches her-Wyatt's eye seconds before the Lifeboat makes its spring through time. He meets her gaze and holds on.
The moment the familiar sounds and smells of Chinatown hit her, Lucy feels like she's going to puke. She chances a glance at her future counterpart and finds Future-Lucy wearing an almost similar expression of distress, although hers in much better contained. Before they split up between their past and future selves to find clothes, she catches Future-Wyatt lay a comforting hand on his-Lucy's elbow and turns her gently towards him. He says something Lucy doesn't catch, but her future-self nods almost imperceptibly, relaxing visibly by whatever was being said between the pair.
It's almost hard to look at, the future versions of them interacting like they were two knots in the same string, while she and the Wyatt beside her could barely stand to meet each other's gaze for more than a few seconds.
When the two Lucys emerge in new costumes, the two Wyatts are already waiting in the alley where they were supposed to meet up. Future-Wyatt keeps a close eye on his wristwatch, counting down the minutes before Emma would emerge out of the establishment across the street and they would have their moment to act.
"It's best if we don't let the versions of us in 1888 see us," Future-Wyatt explains, gun clocked, eyes continuously scanning the activity around them for any signs of danger, "I think that's more meddling than the timeline will be able to handle."
Nobody replies but they all agree. With the state of frame she was in when she had went after Emma, Lucy wasn't sure she would have been able to handle seeing not one, but two doppelgangers of herself hiding in the shadows.
"If we change the timeline-" Wyatt starts. He has his gun out too and she once again balks at the two versions of him standing side by side, holding almost the exact same military stance. "-that would change our future. This version of us –you- wouldn't exist. How does that even work?"
Future-Lucy sidesteps him, peeking out into the street. While she had looked almost carefree when they had first landed in 2018, now she looked all-business, ready to strike down whoever stood in her way. Lucy stares at the gun in future-her's hands, held so securely, there was no doubt she knew how to use it. Her own hands tremble at the memory of holding Flynn's gun between her fingers, pulling the trigger once, twice, and then so many more time, yet not succeeding once.
"We've only done this once before so we can't say for sure," Future-Lucy answers, "But with what we've figured out, once we get back to 2023, our timelines will diverge. You'll be able to interact with your future selves, but not this specific version of us. Not the version who's lived these five years without Rufus."
Lucy's chest tightens at the thought of this version of them simply….vanishing. She knows, realistically, they would exist in their own timeline, but to Lucy, they'd be gone. As if they had never lived, had never struggled five years to give their best friend another chance. Not for the first time, the gravity and fickleness of time travel hit her, a mindboggling mess that couldn't be understood or comprehended. Her own existence suddenly feels inconsequential. If she died right now, would there be some other version of her in the past or in the future, still existing, still living her life?
The seconds drip away, and the foursome stand in the shadows, waiting. She feels the questions in her throat like an itch, but a large part of her is too afraid to ask. What if the answers are even worse than she imaged? Does she really want to know what was in store for her that had made her into the battle-weary version that had stepped out of the second Lifeboat?
Wyatt is the one who breaches the silence. He looks hesitant, like he isn't sure he should be asking the question, but he ploughs on, looking at Future-Lucy for an answer, "If we're back here anyway… why don't you try to save your mother too?"
Lucy's breath hitches in her throat and she glances at Future-Lucy for her reaction. She can't deny that she hasn't already considered it in her mind, hasn't been thinking of it subconsciously ever since they arrived back in Chinatown. But she was hesitant to even voice the thought out loud. What would it mean for Rittenhouse if her mother survived? And if they saved her, would they be able to save Rufus too without messing everything up?
Future-Lucy glances at her in worry and then gives Wyatt a soft look that Lucy doesn't want to think about. "It's not something we can risk," she says, ruefully, "in terms of what it would mean for Rittenhouse, and for Rufus. If we alter the timeline even five minutes before Rufus was shot, we don't know how the consequences would affect his death, or if we would be able to save him at all."
Lucy's heart plummets in her throat, her future-self's words almost an exact replica of what she had been thinking moments before. But wondering about it and hearing it said aloud are two different things, and even though she knows it's the right thing to do, her heart rebels against it, screams so loudly in her chest, it drowns out everything else.
Both the Wyatts glance at her in concern and it's almost too much. One of him was more than enough, but to have two pairs of those expressive blue eyes trained in her almost makes her want to turn away.
"I'm sorry," Future-Lucy tells her, eyes swimming with a grief only she could understand.
Lucy nods once and then conceals the panicked laughter that bubbles in her throat at the ridiculousness of hearing her own self apologizing to her.
They turn back towards the street, but with Wyatt's question, the dam has been broken.
"Where –where were you before you came to get us?" Lucy asks, the curiosity getting the better of her. She moves a little so she's standing behind Wyatt who has his gun pointing towards the ground. A few feet away, the future versions of them carry almost the same position. "You looked like you dropped out of some post-apocalyptic universe, or a set from Tomb Raider –or something."
Their future counterparts share a knowing glance that's alight with a hidden amusement she and Wyatt don't understand.
"Uhh…we had to take a slight detour on our way to 2018," Future-Wyatt says. "Things got…messy."
Future-Lucy shakes her at the non-answer, hiding a grin. "I'm sorry we can't tell you more. With everything else, we're already treading on pretty thin ice in terms of messing with the timeline."
The discretion and the obvious inside joke only serve to kindle Lucy's curiosity about their future selves' adventures. But before she can pursue the follow-up question on the tip of her mouth, their attention is diverted to the ruckus that erupts across the street. The foursome share glances. The two Wyatts ready their guns.
Moments later, Emma emerges from the saloon in the familiar green dress, looking around quickly before she hurries down the street. A familiar rage erupts behind Lucy's eyes and she can barely stop herself from following the redhead until she could choke her with her bare hands. Wyatt moves to follow Emma almost instinctively but Future-Wyatt stops him with a hand to the shoulder.
"Not yet," he says. His voice is grim, all traces of humor vanished. While their rage over Rufus was still hot, the anger in Future-Wyatt's eyes is tempered, has been beaten down and hardened into something dangerous. "Follow me."
They turn back and then loop around a small back alley into another street lined with shopfronts. On the other end, she can see the back of Emma's head as she stands in the shadows, waiting for the other them to come out of the saloon, with her gun locked and loaded.
The busy chaos of the streets masks their approach as the foursome slowly make their way forwards, earning a few bewildered glances because of their shared appearances. They hide behind a loaded vegetable cart and Future-Wyatt pulls up a fist, signaling them to pause. Lucy bristles with impatience. Emma was right there; she could see her springy red curls even through the bustle of the street –why the hell wasn't anyone taking the shot?
It's then that Future-Lucy puts a hand on her-Wyatt's arm. The look in her eyes is something Lucy herself doesn't recognize, calculating and afraid and burning. A thousand words seem to pass between the pair, an entire conversation Lucy doesn't understand. Then future-Wyatt gives his partner a subtle nod and just like that the silent conversation is settled.
Future-Lucy rises from her perch, balancing on steady feet as she crouches behind the cart and aims her gun at the back of Emma's head. Lucy sucks in a quick breath, heart starting a staccato beat against her sternum. The noise of the bustle around them vanishes. Lucy imagines that it is her own hands wrapped around the hard shell of the gun, imagines that it is her own finger that rests steadily against the trigger.
Wyatt observes the scene with his expression somewhere between admiration and surprise. He must have read something in the way Future-Lucy aimed the gun because he doesn't object; he can tell, just like she, that her future counterpart knows what she's doing.
The seconds tick down. A man moves out of the way and Future-Lucy takes the shot.
The gun doesn't make a sound as it goes off but Lucy can tell when it hits Emma as the redhead staggers on her feet.
She can also tell that the bullet only hit her leg.
"You missed-" Lucy sputters in surprise, rounding on her future-self in outrage. Bitter betrayal swells in her throat, making it hard to speak, "You missed –how could you have-"
"She didn't miss," Wyatt says from beside her, and she turns towards him, sees the hard accusation in his eyes.
The realization settles in. Future-Lucy looks at them, but doesn't deny Wyatt's claim. She missed on purpose. Future-her only shot Emma in the leg on purpose.
Future-Wyatt pulls them harshly to the ground as Emma's retaliating gunfire sings through the air, pushing the crowd into a frenzy. Neither of the future duo return the gunfire, and when present-Wyatt aims his gun, his counterpart swiftly disarms him.
"Not now," Future-Wyatt says harshly, hand digging into Wyatt's arm. "She's not supposed to die -not here, not now."
Bright hot anger flares behind Lucy's eyes. "Screw that," she says, voice shaking.
And for the second time in the last twenty-four hours, she takes off after Emma.
She pushes through the tide of the crowd heading the other way, fighting through them even as the blurry edges of her claustrophobia box her in. She can't see Emma but she couldn't have gotten far with that leg and that's the only thing on Lucy's mind. Behind her, the two Wyatts call her name but she only dredges further into the crowd. God, she can't take any more of this. She has to end it. She has to end it now.
She's almost to the end of the street when a strong arm reaches around her waist and halts her progress.
"Lucy, stop. Stop."
It's Future-Wyatt and somehow the fact that it is him stopping her only serves to make her angrier. She throws her elbow back at his face and this time it's Future-Lucy who steps in, who gets up right in her face as Future-Wyatt releases his hold, backing away.
Future-Lucy grabs her face, holding her jaw between the palms of her hand, "Look at me, look at me." Her eyes are hard and teary and Lucy finally stops struggling, a sob catching in her throat. "We'll get her. I promise you, we'll get her. But you have to trust me; you have to trust us."
The unruly waves inside her crash against the shore and suddenly she's left feeling nothing at all. "She took everything from us," she whispers at her future self, her voice a container of every hurt that the Rittenhouse agent had ever dealt her. "How could you let her go?"
Future-Lucy shakes her head, "She didn't take everything. She doesn't have that kind of power over us; she never has." Lucy looks into her own glassy eyes staring back at her and wonders if the pain was always written so staunchly in her irises, "I know it hurts right now. I know everything hurts. But I promise you that we'll stop her. Trust me, please."
Lucy doesn't have time to reply because that's the exact moment she spots the past versions of them in 1888 rushing out of the saloon. Future-Lucy pulls her back against the corner of the street to avoid being seen, and that's when she realizes that there's no Emma waiting to ambush past-them. There is no Emma waiting to kill Rufus.
The two Lucys and Wyatts watch as the other them hurry across the street, Rufus alive and well in tow, and she clasps a hand to her mouth to stop the outburst of emotions that threatens to come pouring out. She meets Wyatt's eyes and he looks like he's witnessing a miracle, like he's regained something that had forever been lost.
She turns towards her future-self, grabs her arm with a tight hand, eyes shining, "You saved him."
And future-Lucy laughs, crazy and free and giddy, "We did. We saved him."
Lucy's lungs squeeze with anticipation as the Lifeboat lands back in 2018, the metal whirring settling down as the foursome reach to undo their belts. She doesn't know what to expect when she steps out of the Lifeboat, but she knows that if the hatch opens and Rufus isn't there, she's going to lose it. They had lost too much, they had risked too much, for there to be any other alternative.
The four occupants of the Lifeboat are scarily silent as the portal slowly slides open. Lucy's out of her chair faster than she can breathe and then she's clumsily descending the stairs, eyes searching-
And he's there.
Standing casually behind one of the computer systems, still winding up the landing procedure, is one Rufus Carlin. There and smiling and oh-so-alive.
Lucy stops in her tracks, frozen at her spot, willing herself to believe that this was really happening.
"That was quicker than I expected," Rufus says, walking up to the hanger, not yet realizing the intensity with which Lucy was looking at him, "Although I did-"
And suddenly, just like that, she snaps into motions, letting out a hitched noise in the back of her throat as she launched herself into his arms.
"Woah," Rufus says, winding his arms around her belatedly in his surprise. "Nice to see you too, Lucy."
She lets out a choked laugh against his shoulder and then sees Wyatt somewhere in her peripheral vision. And just like the hug in 1918, she draws him in, and he latches onto the two of them like they're his lost hope, his last salvation, and for the first time in weeks, she feels like everything is as it should be.
It always came down to this, to the three of them. Together.
"Guys," Rufus says lightly, even though she can sense the confusion in the back of his voice, "you're scaring me. You're acting like I died or something-"
He stops short. There's a beat of silence and then realization settles in as Rufus lets out a weak, "Oh."
Lucy nods against his shoulder and when they finally part, there are tear tracks running down her cheeks. Wyatt detangles himself and lets out a teary hiccup as he turns away to wipe his eyes.
Remembering the two remaining members of their posse, Lucy turns back around to see that Future Lucy and Wyatt too had descended the Lifeboat. But they don't make their way forwards. Instead, they hang back and quietly observe their past selves reuniting with their lost friend. Suddenly, they look so much different than the calm and composed duo that had initially stepped out of the Lifeboat. They look haggard and vulnerable and broken down –and still, bursting at the seams with hope.
It's then that Lucy notices that they're holding hands, fingers intertwined almost desperately as they looked at Rufus for the first time in five years.
"God, this is still too weird for me," Rufus says, looking back at Future Lucy and Wyatt.
Future-Lucy lets out a tearful laugh, and something in the room seems to break with the sound of her voice. Rufus' eyes soften in understanding.
"Well," he says, "Since you all just saved me from dying by myself in 1888, why don't I make you an early dinner?"
He starts towards the kitchen and despite their period clothes still weighing them down, they all follow.
Lucy knows that she had barley slept an hour before her eyes blink open once again. The room is dark, the bunker seeping with silence, and yet she knows that she was awake because her brain had sensed something that was not right. Her eyes scan their small room. Jiya is still asleep, turned towards the wall with her covers all the way up to her head. But the thin mattress that vacates the tiny space between their two beds is glaringly empty, devoid of the future version of herself that had insisted on taking the floor and would not take no for an answer.
Silently, Lucy slips out of her bed, her curiosity for Future-Lucy's whereabouts outweighing the dregs of sleep still clinging to the edges of her mind. Pulling on her robe, she slips her feet into her fuzzy slippers and quietly walks out of the room, careful to not disturb Jiya. Even though it's her own future self, she doesn't know what Future-Lucy would be up to at this time of the night, but if she's awake, Lucy figures she could answer some of the questions that were constantly posed at the edge of her tongue ever since the other Lucy had made her appearance.
Suffice to say, when she walks out to the lounge space, she was not expecting Future-Lucy to have company, which now feels like a failure of foresight in her part. Her future self is sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, and sitting beside her, mirroring her position, is Future-Wyatt. They're both turned towards each other, talking in hushed voices, completely immersed in their conversation, and something seizes in her chest as she quickly hides herself behind the corner before they notice her.
"What do you think he's going to be like?" Future-Wyatt asks his-Lucy, an almost wistful tone to his voice, "Rufus –our Rufus. He's going to have five years' worth of memories of us that we don't remember."
"It'll still be him," Future-Lucy says, reassuringly. She reaches forwards and rubs a comforting hand down his shoulder, stopping to intertwine their fingers in his lap. "It'll take some time to get used to, but it's Rufus. He'll crack and few bad jokes and everything will be fine."
Lucy wants to look away from the scene but she can't. It's so achingly domestic, that it pokes at every part of her that still burns with heartbreak. She doesn't know what she's supposed to feel while looking at this future version of her with Wyatt –the last few weeks has soured every romantic part of their relationship to such an extent that it's hard to imagine that she and Wyatt could ever be like this.
When they were still in 1888, she had convinced herself that just because this future versions of them seemed so in sync, it didn't mean that they were anything other than friends and partners. But even though they hadn't shown any signs of romantic inclinations, she would've been blind to miss it. The unconscious touches, the meaningful looks, the way they seemed to exist in each other's periphery, like their orbits were intersected. When they had stepped out of the Lifeboat in 2018 after they had saved Rufus, she had looked at their clasped hands, held as if they were drawing strength from each other, and then all doubt had been erased from her mind.
Future-Wyatt pulls his partner closer, until their knees are touching, his thumb tracing gentle lines on the back of her hand. "It's harder being here than I thought," he admits, "Seeing him, seeing myself at this point in my life-" He closes his eyes, his whole body tightening on a sigh, "Not my preferred year to relive."
Future-Lucy tugs at his hand. "You know what they say about rock bottoms," she says with a smile.
"Nowhere to go but up," They say together and then Future-Wyatt lets out a small laugh.
Face sobering slightly, Future-Lucy says, "You know you're not him, right?"
Wyatt raises an eyebrow and Future-Lucy rolls her eyes, smiling, "You know what I mean. So much time has passed. We've come so far." She reaches for his face, thumbs a gentle hand along the side of his jaw. "You can't let yourself get pulled back into all this. We got through it. Together."
Future-Wyatt's seems to deflate beneath her hand, all the tension seeping out from his body as he looked at the woman across from him with his heart in his eyes.
Looking at the pair, Lucy feels a lodge in her throat. She doesn't want to see this. She doesn't want to see any of this. She doesn't want to give Wyatt another chance. She wants to rage and scream and tell him how badly he had hurt her, convey to him the pain that she had felt all those lonely nights she had cradled her heart to her chest, had drunk herself to sleep.
And yet, no matter the storm in her mind, she can't make herself look away from the scene either.
"I wish I can tell them," Future-Wyatt says, voice quieter, "that they'll get through it. That it'll be better."
Future-Lucy pulls him to her with the hand that was already on his cheek. "I think they already know," she whispers just before her lips descend onto his.
This kiss is soft and long and wanton, and Lucy looks away before she can see more, heart thundering loudly in her chest.
Silently, she makes her way back to her room, and she's still awake when Future-Lucy slips back inside, sometime later. Future-Lucy seems to sense that she's awake but she doesn't say anything as she too slips into her bedding.
Finally, Lucy breaks the silence, her voice no louder than the barest whisper, "You forgave him."
She can't see Future-Lucy's face so she doesn't know how she reacts. There's a small sound of shuffling and then future-her says, "I did. We did." For a few, too long seconds, she's silent. "I know seeing us together makes you feel like you don't have a choice in any of this. But you do. It's always going to be your choice."
Lucy exhales a breath that had been knotted tightly around her lungs. She shouldn't be surprised that Future-her knows exactly what's been on her mind even though she hadn't lived through this particular moment before. "And he's it?" Her voice cracks. "He's your choice –our choice?"
And even through the darkness, she can somehow tell that Future-Lucy is smiling, "He's always going to be our choice."
To prolong the absurdity of the day, Future-Lucy reaches up and takes her hand, giving it a brief squeeze. "Don't give up, Lucy," she whispers, the heaviness of a thousand things yet unknown thickly underlying her words. "You have so much to live for. Don't give up."
Lucy nods back in the darkness, eyes watering, heart thawing oh-so-slowly.
"I won't."
This is me steadily ignoring the looming cancellation and enjoying all the deleted Lyatt content we've gotten in the last week. Cheers!