BROKEN - Chapter 2
Lucy wasn't surprised when the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was beautiful blue. Wyatt was perched in a chair next to the makeshift infirmary cot, her right hand nestled within both of his and his brilliant eyes fixated on hers.
"Hey," he said softly, a relieved smile breaking through the worry lines present only moments before. "How are you feeling?"
She closed her eyes again for a moment, assessing the various aches and pains assaulting her. "Definitely not 100%," she whispered, "but I'll live."
Wearily she tried to sit up and Wyatt jumped into action, putting another pillow behind her back and helping her ease into a sitting position before resuming his place at her side. Although she was haggard, pale faced and somber, Wyatt thought she had never looked more beautiful. He hung his head, wishing for the umpteenth time they could go back to 1941.
"I'm so sorry, Lucy," he managed in a small voice, squeezing her hand but not quite able to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you like I should've been."
Lucy studied his face, hidden now by the hand rubbing moisture from his eyes. His posture was one of defeat, and her earlier anger at him for wordlessly deserting them, deserting her, had begun to subside. If she was being honest with herself, the anger had only sprung from her own personal feelings of inadequacy. She was angry at herself for allowing Wyatt to finally break through her carefully constructed barriers, and she was angry at him for being mindless of the fact that he held her heart. And, if she was being completely honest, she knew he had held it for quite some time.
When he broke out of the bunker, suddenly and with no warning or communication, she was left to wonder if perhaps she was the cause. She trusted him implicitly and without reserve but was still unsure of the depth of his feelings for her. The way he had looked at her, kissed her, touched her in 1941 spoke volumes, but even now she felt that things may have changed for him somehow. Would that same spark still be in his eyes when he looked at her?
"Wyatt," she asked softly, afraid to dare hope his feelings were the same. "Look at me."
He raised his head, and the intensity of his anguish nearly overpowered her. She had seen that look only once before, when he was lost in the depth of his memories and had decided a suicide mission at the Alamo would be a good idea. Only the forcefulness of her emotions had drawn him back that time, and she still wasn't sure exactly how. To see that look on his face now churned fear through her heart, and it took everything in her to hide her reaction from him.
"What is it?" she questioned, noting how his thumb had found the tender red ligature marks around her wrists where she had been bound. He thought for a brief moment, eyeing the tender halo around her wrist and biting his lip before restoring his normal relaxed posture.
"Rufus told me. About your mission. About what happened," he shared. "I should have been there."
"Yes, you should've," she agreed, maybe a little too quickly. "Why weren't you? Where did you go?"
He moved back slightly, and although he retained his contact with her hand while his thumb drew circles across her knuckles, she could sense the discomfort and foreboding radiating from his strong frame.
"I got a text message," he began, eyes downcast yet again.
She shook her head. "I remember. One minute we were teasing each other about already living together and the next you looked like you had seen a ghost."
He smiled then, a small smile that didn't fully meet his eyes. "In a way I think maybe I did," he raised his eyes to contemplate her response before he continued. "It was from Jessica."
She stared at him for a long moment, not sure she had heard him correctly. "You mean...your Jessica? She's...alive?" the words felt distasteful on her lips. Your. Jessica.
"Yes. She's alive," he admitted. "I saw her."
For a moment Lucy thought perhaps the Earth's axis had tilted, for that would be the only way to explain the level of utter disorientation she was feeling. She retrieved her hand from his grasp and took several deep breaths, well aware that Wyatt was hesitantly gauging her response to his revelation.
Realistically, she knew that one day Jessica might come back. Despite Wyatt's failure when he tried to save her, she knew their subsequent travels were fickle at best when considering the future outcome. Which meant any time she had with Wyatt was completely borrowed, at the expense of his dead wife. Despite his declarations of being "open to possibilities", she knew in her heart she would always be his second choice. And for a short time before fate had just cruelly ripped it all away she had actually allowed herself to pretend it was real.
Tears threatened in the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She had already cried far too many times in front of him, she would refuse to let him see any more of her weakness. Houdini's voice echoed in her mind, the word "escape" now meaning something else entirely. She needed to get away from him so that he wouldn't be witness to her impending emotional breakdown.
Mustering her best caring and sympathetic smile, she met Wyatt's gaze head on. "That's great news, Wyatt. I know how badly you've wanted to get Jessica back. I'm happy for you. Truly, I am." She wasn't lying. She would do anything for this man, and if it made him happy she would gladly sacrifice her own happiness in order to give that to him.
Wyatt regarded her carefully. She was taking the news much better than he had, but her smile was definitely not genuine and he could see the tears in her eyes threatening to fall. He reached for her hand again but she recoiled from his touch as if he'd burned her.
"Lucy," he began, but she cut him off.
"I think I should probably get some rest now," she lied, fidgeting with her blanket and unable to look at him. "I'm feeling kind of dizzy."
He nodded, anxious to embrace her and reassure her it would be okay, but never able to deny her anything she asked for. "We will talk about this more later, okay?" he stated, his tone indicating it was not to be construed as a question.
Lucy nodded, dumbly, settling back into bed knowing sleep was nowhere near. He gently settled the blanket around her and couldn't resist tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear.
"Lucy," he tried one more time, desperately feeling as though he couldn't end their conversation here. He had so much more to talk about with her, but rationally he also knew she did need rest even if it was a lie from her for some time alone.
"Goodnight, Wyatt," she said, in such a soft voice he almost didn't hear it.
He sighed such a heavy sigh that Lucy thought perhaps he was angry, but his voice was too low and broken when he simply responded with, "Goodnight. Ma'am."
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Jiya found Rufus at the main computer terminal, studiously working to piece together more links within Nicholas Keynes' "Plan for World Domination and Douchebaggery" as he liked to call it.
"Hey," she smiled sweetly as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Hey yourself," he smiled back, leaning in for a quick kiss. "How's Lucy doing?"
Jiya bit her lip. "Um...I'm not...sure. I went by the infirmary a few minutes ago to see how she was doing. And I'm not 100% certain...but...well," her voice trailed off.
Rufus stopped, turning to fully face his girlfriend. "What?" he asked, concerned at the hesitation in Jiya's voice.
"Well, it sounded like maybe she was crying," she finally admitted.
Rufus nodded his head knowingly. He had kept Lucy and Wyatt's secret, and had not yet even told Jiya what happened when they were in 1941. For some reason he felt like he needed to respect his friends' privacy, and that they would let everyone else know when they were ready. Now, given Wyatt's bombshell news earlier in the day, he was fairly certain he knew why Lucy was crying.
"Well, she's had a rough day. It was pretty sketchy there for a bit. Eventually it starts to get to you," he offered sincerely, hoping Jiya would accept his theory.
She nodded, deep in thought. "Yeah. I guess that makes sense." She kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Anything else happen of interest? I mean, aside from Lucy getting shot and almost hung."
Rufus dropped his head. "Yeah. I had to kill someone today."
Jiya stared at him. "What?"
He looked at her, confused by her aghast expression. "I had to kill someone today. It was one of the guys shooting at us and his dickhead buddy had already shot Lucy."
Her eyes were wide. "Did you use an old timey musket gun to shoot him?"
"Well, yeah. What's the matter?" She was alarming him now, as she took a step back from him and looked like a caged animal ready to bolt.
"Jiya, what the hell is going on? Is this about your visions?"
She nodded dumbly and Rufus sprung to his feet to face her. "What is it? You're worrying me here. And don't," he held up his finger to shush her as her mouth opened to speak. "Don't just tell me not to worry."
She took a deep breath. "Okay. I think that...I think my visions are actually visions of the future. Before you went back to Darlington, I saw your arm get burned that day we were working on the lifeboat when I kind of wigged out on you. While you guys were back in 1941 I saw you shoot an old man with the...um..."
"Old timey musket gun?" he finished for her.
"Yes," she breathed. "With the old timey musket gun."
"So..." he began, "are these visions just centered around me?"
Jiya nodded. "So far, the only one I've seen has been you."
"And the doctor said you were fine?" he reiterated.
"Better than fine. Whatever happened to me in the lifeboat actually healed my heart murmur too," she reminded him.
He blew out a breath. "Well, then I am going to try not to worry. And hover. Or worry while I hover."
She laughed. "You can sure try."
"But you have to promise me something," he closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her tightly.
"What's that?"
"When you have visions, or if you have other issues, please tell me. If you really are having visions of the future we need to know, and if you have other issues we...well, we need to know that too," he finished lamely.
Jiya smiled. "I promise."
He kissed her. "Thank you."
She gave him another peck on the lips, her eyes suggestively slanting towards him. "You know, I think you could stay with me tonight, if you wanted to."
"I definitely want to," he smiled at her and waggled his eyebrows, his thoughts again briefly turning to Jiya's roommate at the other end of the bunker. And I highly doubt Wyatt will be good company anytime soon either.
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Flynn was lounging on the couch, taking a slow pull from a beer when Wyatt approached him in the common area, and his posture instantly became more guarded as he drew near. Wyatt had to purposefully force himself to slightly relax, lest he somehow start a fight without intending to.
"Flynn," he addressed the other man with what was hopefully a neutral tone.
"Wyatt," he acknowledged him, waving his hand toward another bottle sitting unopened on the side table. "Why don't you join me."
Skepticism crept over Wyatt's face and he attempted to push it down for the sake of his intended visit, but Flynn was far too observant.
"For God's sake, man, I'm not going to poison you or anything. Sit and have a beer. It's one of the few things that isn't utterly depressing in this cave."
Wyatt sighed, and reached for the beer as he sat across from Flynn in the chair.
"You don't like me much, do you?" Flynn questioned.
"Nope. Not at all. And I trust you even less than I like you," he replied, a small smirk on his face.
Garcia held up his beer bottle as if he were offering a toast. "Touche."
Wyatt's countenance suddenly became much more serious. "But I do owe you." At the other man's questioning expression Wyatt took a long pull from his bottle and continued. "For today. For what you did for Lucy. And Rufus," he quickly added. He hesitated, the words that he needed to say almost physically causing pain as he said them.
"Thank you, Flynn. For having my team's backs."
Flynn appraised him carefully, noting Wyatt's downcast eyes and the way he was playing with his ring finger. He also hadn't missed the way Wyatt's gaze continually drifted towards the infirmary where Lucy was currently sleeping. He was far too observant and shrewd to miss the obvious clues and quickly managed to piece the puzzle together.
"She's back, isn't she?"
Wyatt looked at him as if he'd been stung. "What are you talking about?"
"Your wife. Jessica? Wasn't that her name?"
He looked at Flynn, speechless. "How the hell could you possibly know that?"
"Oh, I know a lot more than you think I do, Wyatt. Remember, I had Lucy's journal for quite some time."
Wyatt's stomach began to churn, the implications of what he was saying beginning to finally make sense. "What does Lucy's journal have to do with this?"
Flynn snorted. "Please don't tell me you are so thickheaded as to think that this is just some miraculous cosmic karma being corrected."
Wyatt's eyes darted back and forth, his mind desperately trying to makes sense of what Flynn was telling him.
"Oh my. That's exactly what you thought, wasn't it?" He paused, only for a moment.
"You really thought that your dead wife had returned from the grave because of something that happened seventy-seven years ago? While you and Lucy were screwing in Los Angeles?"
Wyatt stood up and slammed the bottle down with enough force to cause foam to crest over the lip. "You shut your damn mouth. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, but I do, Wyatt," Flynn rose to a standing position as well. "I do know what I'm talking about. Because you promised to do your job. You promised to protect her. And the first time Rittenhouse dangles a distraction in front of your face you abandon her."
Wyatt's stricken face gave him momentary pause, but he knew he had to bring his point home. "You left her. You left your entire team to chase after your wife when you knew damn well the only way she could possibly be alive is through Rittenhouse manipulation."
Another long pause. "I know how all of this ends, Wyatt. And it does not go well for Lucy."
His head snapped up at that, the intensity of Flynn's words chilling him to the bone. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I am here to pick up your slack. She is important to both of us for very different reasons, but I am here to help protect her."
Wyatt pushed his way over to Flynn and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pressing the other man back into the couch. "You are going to tell me right now what the hell happens to Lucy!"
"No, I'm not," he replied calmly.
"Why the hell not?" he raged.
"Because you have a fucking time machine and we can change it!" Flynn yelled back. "No one's future is set. But you need to get your head out of your ass and get back in the game. Because it is going to take both of us working together to take down Rittenhouse and keep Lucy safe."
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