A/N: I am working hard to get everything up before Sunday's episode shoots all of this to hell. So, I'm hoping to have chapter 3 finished and up sometime tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little Flynn and Lucy moment.


COME WHAT MAY: Chapter 2

Lucy woke head pounding and memory hazy. She shifted in her bed trying to piece together the events of the night before.

Shit, a bed.

She sat up with a start, blinking owlishly into the darkness of a room illuminated by the ever-present emergency lights of the bunker.

O God, she was still in Flynn's room—Garcia, he'd told her to call him Garcia she remembered. Memories were starting to filter back in, memories of vodka, commiseration, shared memories of lost loved ones.

She remembered showing up with the vodka, no words had been exchanged, no words had needed to be. He understood. Understood that being alone was hard, especially at night, especially when rhythmic thuds continued to filter down the halls. She didn't want to think about whose room it was coming from, just wanted to block it all out.

She'd just walked in and sat down on the one bed in the room, his bed, head resting against the dingy bunker wall glancing around at the meager possessions scattered around the room. Clothes weren't even unpacked, just in cardboard boxes like they were drawers.

But Garcia hadn't cared that she was there invading his space. He just sat down next to her and let the silence envelop them, let her take a swig from the vodka, took a drink himself, waiting for her to speak.

And she had; she remembered telling him about the last conversation she'd had with Amy before they left and he'd told her about checking the closets for monsters the night his family was murdered. They passed the night and the bottle telling stories like that. Some good memories, some hard, some tears, some laughter; but in silent agreement not to mention Wyatt or Jessica—until she couldn't remember much after a certain point. Certainly, she didn't remember crawling under the covers of Garcia's bed or falling asleep.

Throwing back the heavy blankets, she panicked when she felt the cold air hit her bare legs.

O God, she definitely didn't remember that.

Hands coming up to cover her face and fighting off the impending panic attack, she berated herself for whatever she'd allowed to happen last night. For whatever had left her in nothing but her underwear and flannel shirt in Garcia Flynn's bed.

"Relax," the mumbled words made her jump. She glanced around wildly trying to locate the source.

Lounging in a chair across the room, longs legs propped up on cardboard boxes, Garcia looked at her with mild amusement.

"Nothing happened, Lucy."

He chuckled when her response was to the pull the blanket back over her bare legs.

"Hmmm, Yes…that," he paused. "Let's just say we should never let you get drunk at bars; apparently, too much cheap booze makes you start taking your clothes off."

A mortified squeak was all she could manage as her hands once again flew up to cover her red cheeks.

"Relax," he repeated with an eye roll that was obvious even in the low light. "I stopped you before anything more than your uncomfortable jeans could come off."

Mortification over her strip tease, over what she may have said after, made her unable to look Flynn in the eyes. She was back to thinking of him as Flynn in her head, because thinking of him as Garcia now, just seemed too intimate.

He looked as though he could read her thoughts as he gave her that smug grin, "What, no thank you?"

That made her spine straighten and her hands drop from her face.

"Thank you. Now where are my damn pants?"

He motioned to the neatly folded jeans draped over the end of the bed.

"I'll let you get decent." He was already out of the chair and halfway to the door when he turned to look at her, eyes brimming with an emotion she couldn't name.

"Lucy," he took a fortifying breath, surprising her as it was so out of character for him to need a moment of courage. "Thank you—for giving me the chance to get to know you last night."

Lucy didn't have a chance to say anything before he slipped out of the room.

And besides how did she begin to respond to that.