A/N: Part four! Time is going passed faster now. I'm not following every day anymore so this part takes place over roughly two weeks. This is the penultimate update. We're reaching the end and again, let me say that I am thankful for every review so far! They make my day! Thank yo all so much for reading and enjoying this story as well as any of my other stories! Reviews/comments are always appreciated!
Happy reading!
angellwings
PART FOUR: Tangled Up
"You can push me away.
I can take it.
I can make you a promise,
and break it.
We know the way it goes by now.
Running off just to see,
if I chase you.
I pretend I know how to replace you,
Still we get tangled up somehow."
-"Caught in the Storm", SMASH
Denise put him on desk duty for his first day back. He despises it. It's all paperwork — busy work. He's bored as hell and then Denise comes by to remind him of his appointment with Dr. Lindsay and he decides paperwork isn't quite that bad. He puts off going to the appointment as long as he can and decides being fashionably late won't hurt anything. He doesn't really want to go to begin with.
He walks through the door after Dr. Lindsay's receptionist motions him in to the office and is a bit stunned. He expects a bespeckled mousy little man, but what he finds is a huge mountain of a man with a Marine Corps tattoo peeking out from his rolled up shirt sleeves. Alright, so the doctor isn't what he expected, doesn't mean the session won't be. He's been through psych evaluations before. They're purposefully confusing.
He glances around the office and smirks at Dr. Lindsay.
"What?" He asks. "No couch?"
"Funny," Dr. Lindsay says without a single twitch of a smile. "Never heard that one before. Please, Master Sergeant, have a seat."
Wyatt stares at the overstuffed armchair warily as Dr. Lindsay comes around his desk and leans against the front of it.
"You're going to be here for an hour," Lindsay says with a grin. "You can stand if you want but I'd recommend sitting."
He doesn't like the idea of sitting when this Dr. Lindsay towers over him, even leaning against his desk in a slouched stance. Call it his survival instinct or years of fighting guys twice his size on a daily basis — whatever it is, it keeps him from being able to sit across from him.
This particular shrink seems to read that in Wyatt's body language. He chuckles and then shakes his head at Wyatt. "Alright, we'll switch it up then. You lean against the desk and I'll sit."
Lindsay takes the overstuffed armchair and then motions from Wyatt to the desk. Wyatt does as he's asked and leans against the desk in front of Dr. Lindsay.
"Okay, so what are your questions?" Wyatt asks. "I've been through these before. I doubt you'll think of anything new."
Lindsay smiles patiently at him. "This isn't an evaluation, Master Sergeant. You talk, I listen. I'll interject if something needs to be addressed, sure, but otherwise you determine what we talk about. Not me."
"And if I don't want to talk at all?" Wyatt asks with a quirked brow.
"Then we'll sit here in silence for an hour. I get paid either way. It's not me you'll be hurting if you don't take these session seriously," Lindsay warns.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before."
"What one?"
"The bullshit you're only hurting yourself line," Wyatt says with a scoff.
"Hurt yourself all you want. That's not who I was talking about," Lindsay says as he leans back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "You have a wife, don't you? Two little girls? At least that's what it says in your file."
"Yeah, so?" Wyatt asks him with a glare.
Lindsay shrugs. "So, it's not me or yourself you'll be hurting, Wyatt. It's them. You seem like a good guy. I don't think you want that."
"Been doing pretty okay on my own," Wyatt says with a derisive snort. "We all seem pretty happy."
"Yes, and I'm sure you are. Doesn't mean things can't improve."
He thinks back to New Years and Lucy and their fight afterward. The distance that's been between them since then. Dr. Lindsay's comment hits closer to home than Wyatt likes.
He crosses his arms, mirroring Lindsay, and dismisses the other man with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, we're just gonna sit here quietly now if you don't mind. I can handle my own shit. Been doing it since I was a kid. I think I know my own limitations."
"Fine by me. Like I said, I get paid either way."
The rest of the session passes in total silence. The timer on Dr. Lindsay's desk goes off and he stands from the chair.
"Okay, well, see you in two days, Master Sergeant. Next time I'll bring a book to read while you brood," Dr. Lindsay says with a smirk and a wave. "Enjoy the rest of your day."
Wyatt leaves the appointment feeling like he's wasted precious time. It's stupid that he has to attend those sessions anyway. Yes, he told Lucy he would consider it. He just did, and it's still stupid.
The work day passes excruciatingly slowly and when Wyatt finally arrives home the girls are passed off to him from Lucy and she retreats into her office. He gets barely anything more than a hello and a brief how was your day before she disappears. He knows she has her first class in nearly 7 years the next day and he knows they aren't on the best of terms right now, but it still stings.
Lucy comes out of her office for dinner but then vanishes again after she does the dishes. He's seen so little of her that he's utterly shocked when she slips into bed next him sometime around midnight. He expected her to sleep at her desk again since she seems determined to avoid him.
Next thing he knows, Light is filtering in their bedroom window and glaring against his face. He closes his eyes tighter for a beat and then opens one eye first. There's a lavender scent wafting up toward him from a silky soft dark brown something resting against his cheek. One arms is slung around a warm curvy lump in the mattress. For a moment he thinks he's holding a pile of pillows, but then the pillows let out a sigh.
Nope. Not pillows.
That's a person. A woman.
He forces himself to open the other eye and then blink through the bleary haze of morning. Lucy. The silky soft dark brown something that smelled like lavender and definitely isn't pillows or a lump in the mattress is Lucy. He is currently the big spoon to her little spoon. And judging by the carefree sound of the sigh she let out in her sleep...she doesn't seem to mind.
Although, if she were to wake up in this position she might tell a different tale.
He should untangle them. He should get up right now and start coffee before she is forced to acknowledge their close proximity and awkwardness descends.
The thing is, he doesn't want to untangle himself from her. This feels cozy and right. Also, he finds it interesting that even when they fall asleep facing away from each other they end up like this. They were pissed at each other and things between them were tense at best and yet even so he wakes up with his nose in her hair and his arms around her. Seems like the perfect metaphor for their relationship if he says so himself.
But then he remembers how she stayed away from the bed until later than she should have and he remembers the stress and tension she's felt about teaching her first class in too many years and he thinks this is not the morning to indulge his weakness for Lucy Preston. He doesn't want to add to her stress. So, somehow he manages to pull himself away. His sits on the edge of the mattress looking over his shoulder at her for longer than is strictly healthy, but it might be the only time he gets the chance to quietly observe her for a while.
When she's asleep she's not avoiding him or pissed at him or, worse still, altogether indifferent. Indifferent Lucy is his least favorite. At least if she's yelling at him then he knows she still cares. It doesn't matter. What's important now is the girls. As long as they can stand united for the two of them then he can deal with an indifferent history professor. He rises from the bed and retreats to the bathroom. Away from her.
She was still asleep when he shut the bathroom door. She'll likely wake and never even know how they sought comfort from each other even in their sleep.
The rest of the morning is chaotic. He makes breakfast and takes the girls to school on his way to work so that Lucy can focus on preparing her lecture notes. He manages to leave her a lunch on the counter before he walks out the door with Amy and Flynn in the hopes that she won't limit herself to vending machine food. He doubts she'll take it with her. She doesn't want his help, or at least that's the impression he's gotten from her.
He then spends his day filing dull bit of paperwork after dull bit of paperwork before picking the girls up from school that afternoon. He needs to stop by the store because they're out of foods for the girls' lunches and they have nothing to cook for dinner that night.
He is very clear with the girls before they walk into the store. They are to stay with him and in his sight at all times. This is the first time he's taken them out so he has to make sure they understand. They respond by assuring him they remember the rules. So, clearly, the other him had the same fear of losing them as he did.
For most of the trip everything is fine. The girls argue a little over which pop tarts to buy and they ask for a sugary cereal that he knows Lucy won't want them to have, but otherwise they do as he asks.
Until Amy tries to get his attention while he's talking to the employee at the deli counter. He asks her to wait until he's done and then looks for her when he has the meats he requested.
He sees Flynn waiting patiently by the cart, but not Amy.
"Where—where's your sister?" Wyatt asks as he frantically glances around their immediate vicinity.
Flynn shrugs and points down an aisle to their right.
"Why didn't you say anything?" He asks her.
"You told Amy not to talk to you while you were talking so I didn't want to get in trouble," Flynn answers hesitantly. "She just went to get mommy something."
"I don't care why she left," he snaps. "What did I tell you both in the car?"
Flynn looks down at her feet and sniffles. "To stay with you."
He pushes the cart with one hand and holds out his hand to her with the other. "Come on, now we need to find Amy."
She takes his hand and they rush down the aisle she pointed to but there's no Amy there. The panic in his chest starts to rise. He walks briskly down every aisle and the longer he goes without seeing a little brunette head the more his chest tightens and his lungs constrict. He starts going through worst case scenarios in his head. One of which involves Rittenhouse snatching a descendent of their beloved David Rittenhouse, no matter how impure that bloodline may be now. It's ridiculous because he knows Rittenhouse is through in this timeline. They have been for quite some time. But for him, it was only two weeks ago that he and Lucy were still trying to take them down.
He finally finds her, a frenzied fifteen minutes later, staring at cheap flower arrangements and holding a box of Lucy's favorite tea. His first reaction is to grab her and hold her close. He habitually inspects her for any wounds or signs of distress and he finds none. He's relieved and yet somehow angrier than he was while she was missing.
He should have taken a moment to breathe. Or maybe finished his shopping to give him time to cool off and scolded her in the car. Or maybe he shouldn't have scolded her at all. Would it have been better to explain it calmly? Regardless, any other way would have been better than what he did.
He lost it. He lost it on Amy. He lost it on Flynn. He was beside himself in panic and worry and yelling at them both in the middle of the grocery store. He felt as though he were having an out of body experience. He knew he was yelling and he knew it was excessively so for the innocent crime of wandering off in a store, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was imagining all the people he'd lost, all the times someone in his life had gone missing. Jessica's two weeks. Lucy's six weeks. Hell even those few hours Garcia Flynn had her. All of it.
When he finally comes to his senses, he realizes he has two hysterically sobbing four year olds staring at him with wrecked faces in front of the cheap grocery store flowers. He wants to crawl in a hole and never come out. They are devastated. Inconsolable to the point that he feels like crying himself.
He abandons the cart, picks them both up, and takes them to the car. He doesn't want to be seen in that grocery store ever again. He feels like a cruel ogre who's undeserving of everything he has. He stops beside the SUV to set them on their feet and then kneels to meet their eyes.
"Girls," he pleads softly.
They're still sniffling and tears are streaming down their chubby cheeks, but they open their red eyes just enough to look at him.
"I'm sorry. I am so sorry. It's okay," he says as he exhales shakily. "Everything is okay."
"I'm sorry too, daddy!" Amy wails through her hiccuping tears. While she speaks he runs a hand through her hair and rubs her back. She's ripping his heart from his chest and he only has himself to blame. Her little voice is strained and raw from crying. "I'm sorry! Don't be mad. I didn't mean it!"
"I'm not mad, babygirl. I'm not," he says as his eyes mist over and he pulls her into his chest. He kisses her forehead and holds her tight. He reaches his free hand over to Flynn and wipes her tears from her cheeks. "That goes for you too, okay?"
Flynn sniffs and nods but her bottom lip is still quivering. He gulps loudly and tries to pack away the agony he feels at having upset them so badly. But he can't. He's taken this much too far and he cannot believe he lost control that quickly. It's all his fears about the worst parts of his nature coming true. Like a self fulfilling prophecy. He's doomed to inflict on others what was inflicted on him. God, does he ever loathe himself.
He pulls Flynn in too and then shifts to his knees. He needs to hold them, to love them. He needs to counter balance every bit of fear and heartbreak he just instilled in them. Somehow, someway. His words escape him through coarse emotions and a sore throat. "I love you both. I'm not mad. You just scared me by running off like that. But I shouldn't have yelled the way I did and I'm sorry."
Both sets of tiny arms wrap around his neck and hold on in signature Preston women fashion. He peppers kisses across their faces until their breathing slows and the crying softens. He knows they can't huddle in the parking lot forever but he can't bring himself to move just yet.
Jesus, he feels like a mean bastard. This shouldn't have happened. He should never have let his temper escalate to that point no matter what the girls did.
He eventually packs the girls in the car and makes the executive decision to order pizza for dinner. It's not healthy but he doesn't give a damn. He's not going back in that particular store for at least a month. The girls are eerily quiet the rest of the way home and for every minute of silence another crack forms in his heart.
They get home and he's sure the three of them look tired and defeated. It's how he feels. Lucy's sitting on the couch, reading a book, when they walk in the door and the girls immediately go to her. They crawl onto the couch and snuggle into either side of her. She sets her book aside and then wraps one arm around each of them. She gives Wyatt a curious look as he hangs his jacket by the door.
"You didn't go to the store?"
It's an innocent question, but a trigger for all three of the other people in the room.
"I'm sorry, mommy!" Amy suddenly cries, at the mere mention of the store. "I walked away from daddy and he couldn't see me any more! I just wanted to get you tea and flowers cause you seemed sad! But I scared daddy! I'm sorry!"
He rubs a hand over his face as her tears start up again. Amy throws herself at Lucy and buries her face in Lucy's neck with a gut wrenching sob. He leans his back against the wall across from the couch and closes his eyes. This is why he wanted to leave early on. This. He shouldn't have let Lucy talk him out of it. He should have left. Why didn't he leave?
"Oh, hey, baby. It's okay," Lucy whispers into Amy's hair as she rubs circles on her back and cradles her closer. "You shouldn't have run away from daddy, though. You know that, don't you?"
She nods against Lucy's neck.
"Okay, see? Now you know and this will never happen again, right?" Lucy asks in a bright comforting voice. Amy nods again and sniffles as she pulls back to look at Lucy. "Lesson learned," Lucy tells her before she sweeps a finger down the bridge of her nose. "Now, we move forward. Yeah?"
"Yeah," Amy agrees softly.
Lucy lets Amy go before turning to Flynn and holding her arms open. Flynn dives in. Lucy runs her fingers through Flynn's hair and kisses the top of her head.
"Everybody got a little scared today. Daddy especially. But we're all together now and all is forgiven. Hm?" She asks against the crown of Flynn's head.
Her tone is warm and loving. The epitome of maternal. With a few words she has soothed both girls and Wyatt is simultaneously jealous and impressed as hell.
"Yes, ma'am," Flynn says with a nod and a discreet sniffle.
The twins lean back from Lucy and she squeezes their chins affectionately. "Go wash your faces and try and calm down, okay? Can you do that?"
They nod seriously and then trudge up the stairs. Once they're in the bathroom, Lucy crosses the room to him.
"What happened?" She asks in concern.
The concern isn't just for the girls. He can tell. She's worried about him too. It's the most regard she's shown for him in a couple of days. There's no trace of the indifferent mask she adopted after New Years. What happened with him and the girls was traumatic for him and somehow she knows that. She just knows. He would be touched if he didn't feel like the scum of the earth. He isn't worthy of anyone's concern, least of all Lucy's. Nevertheless, he confesses everything in a rushed rhythm. Barely breathing as he releases his burden into the atmosphere.
"I turned around and Amy was just gone. It took me fifteen heartstopping minutes to find her, and I just—fuck, Lucy, I lost it. For a second I don't think I was completely present, honestly. It—it was awful. I think I scared them more than they scared me," he admits. "I couldn't even buy the groceries. Once I realized how much I upset them I had to get them home. You should have heard them. Amy was—" he stops and looks down at the floor while tears gather in his eyes. He desperately wants the floorboards to open up and swallow him whole. The sound of their crying is forever etched in his memory now. "I made them cry, Lucy. Gasping, wailing sobs. I told you I'm not cut out to be a dad, not unless you want me to be one like him. I'm—I'm gonna turn out to be a sadistic old son of a bitch just like him and none of you deserve that."
Her hand finds his chin, as she did with the girls, and pulls his eyes to hers. "No, you won't, Wyatt. You will never be him. The fact that you are here with me feeling the way you do right now proves that. You love those girls. The last thing you ever want is to hurt them. That makes you different than him. Better than him. Yes, you scared them today and it does sound as though you overreacted, but Amy did wander off when she shouldn't have. You were scared for her safety. After what we've been through I'm actually surprised your reaction wasn't worse than it was." Her hand skims up his cheek and then through his hair. He's in awe of her ability to be affectionate with him after the wall that's stood between them lately. He doesn't deserve her. Never has. How does she continually defend him, even to himself, after he inevitably fucks everything up? "Yes, you're a parent but you're also human. You're going to make mistakes and that's okay. So long as you learn from those mistakes. You have never had a problem learning from your mistakes, Wyatt. I don't anticipate that changing now."
After their tension the last few days and the argument still hanging over their heads, Lucy words of assurance mean everything.
"You are a good father," she says with a compassionate gaze. "One mistake won't change that and it won't change how the girls feel about you. I promise." Her meaningful look slowly becomes a kind smile as she changes the topic. "Now, what kind of takeout should we get? Because obviously no one is cooking after this."
That comment manages to make him grin. "I like how you say 'no one' like there's ever a possibility of you cooking."
She laughs and then shrugs. "Let me have the pretense at least. I mean I do have some pride."
What did he do right to end up married to her in any timeline? He doubts he'll ever know the answer, but he'll ponder it for the rest of his days anyway. She's managed to soothe him the same way she did the twins and he is in secret awe of her.
She agrees to ordering pizza and they eat together as a family. Wyatt sits between the girls and offers them lots of extra affection. Overly so, probably, but they don't seem to mind. Amy, especially, enthusiastically basks in his attention. She regails him with stories of Annie Oakley and Calamity Jane, real life cowgirls that Lucy's been teaching her about. By the time dinner is done, she has slipped into his lap as she nibbles on the last of her pizza crust. Her back is settled against his chest. She is astonishingly relaxed and happy. He places a grateful kiss to the top of her head. It seems that all is forgiven and her fear has passed. Flynn gets up from her seat and hugs him around the neck with a popping kiss to his cheek.
"I love you, daddy," she tells him as she smiles prettily at him. Lucy's smile. Because of course it is.
"Love you too, munchkin," he assures her before he kisses her temple and holds her against his side.
"Mommy, can we have ice cream?" Amy asks excitedly.
He's glad she asked Lucy because in the state he's in he would have given in for sure.
"No, I think pizza is enough of a treat for tonight," Lucy tells her with a chuckle and a grin. "Good try though."
It isn't until they've put the girls to bed and he and Lucy are standing side by side at their bathroom sinks that he remembers what day it is. He feels even more guilt for not asking sooner. Especially, now that the wall between them seems to have come down.
"How was your first day back?" He asks as he reaches for his toothbrush.
"Not horrible. I slipped up with the Salem Witch Trials versus Salem Witch Revolt but all things considered, not bad," she says with a shrug. "It felt kind of like riding a bike."
"That's good. And you had your first therapy session today?" He asks with a rueful grin.
She nods thoughtfully, as if she's remembering something, and then smiles at him. "Yes, I did. And it wasn't as terrifying as I thought it would be. By the way, you never told me about yours. How did it go?"
"Fine, I guess. It didn't seem particularly helpful," he answers as he lifts one shoulder carelessly.
She grins knowingly at him with raised pointed brows. "Did you actually try?"
He avoids her question by putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and then shoving it in his mouth. But he shouldn't have bothered. To Lucy that's as good as an answer.
"I'll take that as a no," Lucy says with a soft chuckle. "You know, Wyatt, therapy won't work unless you actually participate in it."
She squeezes his arm as she passes him while leaving the room and his eyes follow her. Now that he thinks about it, she's seemed lighter today than she has been since New Years Eve. He wonders if it was her first session that's helped her. If it is then that's fine. Good for her. But just because she seems to have gotten something out of her session doesn't mean he'll get anything out of his.
He finishes brushing his teeth and then joins her under the covers. Just like the night before they sleep facing away from each other, not wanting to risk a single accidental touch.
Sleep overtakes him quickly. He's had an emotional and exhausting day so he's not surprised, but he only wishes the sleep that finds him will be peaceful. He never gets what he wishes so of course it isn't.
He finds himself at the Alamo. But this time the only people trapped in its walls are Lucy, the girls, and himself. Without Rufus there's no way out. No place to go to escape. They're cornered in the chapel and the first person to catch a bullet is Lucy. His heart wrenches as she collapses to the ground bloody and cold. Now it's up to him alone to keep the girls alive and fight off as many men as he can. The girls are huddled together, sobbing and wailing and terrified as they had been earlier that day. As hard as he tries he knows he can't save them. But he keeps going, keeps fighting.
A hand grabs his arm and Wyatt seizes it before pinning his assailant to the ground. His fist raises to strike, only when he looks down it's Lucy underneath him — not one of Santa Anna's men.
He reels backward so fast he tangles in the sheets and stumbles from the bed in a bleary eyed haze. He glances frantically around the room. He's no longer at the Alamo. He's in his and Lucy's bedroom.
That's when he comes to his senses. Everything slides back into focus. He was never at the Alamo. He was having a dream. An awful dream. Lucy is sitting up in bed, eyes watery with worry, a hand covering her neck. The image of Lucy pinned underneath him flashes through his mind. Did he…
No, he wouldn't. But did he?
She sits up on her knees and drops her hand from her throat. The skin is a bit red and in the vague shape of a handprint. He has his answer.
That wasn't part of the dream. He actually had pinned Lucy to the bed by her throat and raised his fist to hit her. That happened.
Lucy comes around the bed to him but every step she takes forward pushes him farther away. He could have hurt her. He almost hurt her. His back hits the wall but she keeps coming. He has no where else to go as her hands frame his face and force him to look at her.
"You're safe, Wyatt."
"But you're not," is his immediate reply.
"I am, though," she assures him. "You woke up. You saw it was me. Nothing happened."
"What happens if someday I don't see you?" He asks her as tears cloud his vision. "What if a day comes where I don't snap out of it?"
"What happened?" She asks as one hand combs back through his hair. She ignores his question and presses for an answer to hers instead. "Where were you?"
He still can't bring himself to touch her. He wants to. He wants to hold onto her like a life preserver in a stormy sea. But he's still afraid he'll somehow hurt her. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left a mark on her. Not again. After that last accidental hit he swore to himself it would never happen again. He would never let it happen again. Not with Lucy or anyone else.
"Wyatt?" She asks as tears fill her eyes too and her hand caresses his cheek. "Talk to me. What happened?"
"We were under attack. You, me, and the girls," he chokes out. "I couldn't save you. I was trying to save them, but we were outnumbered. A hand grabbed me and I woke up on top of you."
"Here at the house?" She asks in a soft lilting voice that soothes some of his fear.
"No, the Alamo," he replies with a thick swallow. "The girls were screaming and sobbing—you—you took a bullet because I couldn't protect all three of you at once—"
He can feel a few tears on his face and his words are coming out in short bursts as he tries to breathe through his internal chaos. Lucy's hands cup both his cheeks and her thumbs wipe away the tears he let fall. She pulls his forehead to hers and this time his arms promptly fold around her waist. He is hungry for the comfort she is, so willingly, offering him as he remembers the way she was mercilessly gunned down in his dream. He needs her too much to hold himself back any longer.
"The girls are asleep in their beds where we tucked them in, I am safe and sound, and you are in Palo Alto, California far away from San Antonio and Texas. That was a nightmare, this is your life, Wyatt Logan," she reminds him as her eyes hold his and keep him grounded with her.
He removes one hand from her waist to trail up her side and then her neck before it lands on her cheek. He's assuring himself she's real and unharmed. There's no bullet wound in her chest, no scrapes or cuts or blood of any kind. Once he's certain of that he tucks her into his chest, with her face pressed into the curve of his neck, presses a lingering kiss to her forehead and holds on for dear life.
That's twice in one day that he's scared himself and the people he loves. He can't keep doing this. Close calls can't always be close calls. Odds are one of those times won't be close. One of those times he'll lose it for certain and the collateral damage may be too great.
He and Lucy eventually make their way back to bed but this time, they're wrapped around each other. His episode seems to have had as much of an affect on her as it did on him.
Lucy takes the girls to school the next morning and let's him sleep in. He comes down stairs to find a hastily scribbled note from Lucy and two messy drawings sitting beside of it.
"In case you need any more reminders of what's real. -Lucy"
The drawings were done entirely in crayon and each was signed by a different girl. Both are of him. One has a stick figure Wyatt as a sheriff, cowboy hat on his head and a golden star shaped badge on his chest. The other shows him sitting in what looks like a plane with a brunette stick figure pilot. Lucy's handwriting is below each drawing with quotes. He chuckles and feels his eyes watering as he reads.
"Sheriffs are heroes so daddy is a sheriff, and I'm his deputy!" -Amy, age 4
"Amelia (Earhart) had a nagivator (navigator) and I pick daddy for mine! He never has to ask for directions." -Flynn, age 4
The drawings and Lucy's note go with him to work, folded into his wallet for safe keeping. How Lucy knew he needed that is mystifying, but he is grateful for the gesture.
It's that gesture and the events of the day before that have him sitting in Dr. Lindsay's armchair later that day instead of skipping his session entirely.
"I brought a book," Lindsay says as he leans against his desk. "Am I gonna need it this time?"
"No," Wyatt admits with a shaky exhale. "As much as I hate to say it, you were right."
"About what?" Lindsay asks.
"I need to do this. Not for me, but for my girls. All three of them," he says. He clears his throat awkwardly as his eyes mist over again. "They believe in me and I don't want to let them down."
"And acknowledging that is exactly why you won't," Lindsay replies with an encouraging smile. "So, tell me about them."
"What?"
"Your three women, big and small," Lindsay says with a chuckle. "You obviously care a lot about them, Wyatt. If I'm going to get to know you then I think we should start there."
Now, that's a topic he could talk about all day. Or at least for the next hour.
A routine starts to form over the next few days. Days are busy and hectic. So busy and hectic that they are plenty distracting from things like sexual tension or the way she wants wrap Wyatt Logan up in a bubble and protect him from the world. However, he seems to have recovered from the grocery store episode and the nightmare just fine. When he comes home from work that Friday it's almost as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.
He thanks her for the drawings and they exchange understanding smiles. As hard as it is and as guilty as she feels, it seems New Years Eve is officially behind them. They enter a phase where they become co-parents and housemates with no time to dwell on more. Not that she wants to dwell on more. She doesn't. Not romantically anyway.
They share a bed, a bathroom, and household chores. Between work and the girls and everything else a comfortable distance begins to form. Comfortable in the sense that they're accustomed to it. Not in the sense that she likes it. Yes, she's aware that her thoughts and feelings seem to conflict.
Having sex with him is too much, but merely coexisting with him is too little. She's still convinced they can't be romantic partners - even if her therapist, Dr. Samuels, thinks otherwise.
("Don't you think Wyatt deserves some say in that decision? Maybe you should ask him if he thinks it might work?" Uh, no, she can't ask Wyatt. Because he doesn't realize they're doomed to break each other's hearts like she does. No, she made the best decision for the both of them. It's better this way.)
But even so, even if they can't be romantic, they can still be friends, can't they? He's the only person who shares her experiences. She needs his friendship at the very least. So far, they've only relied on each other when things are dire. She would like more than that. The best change they've managed since landing in this timeline is rediscovering their fondness for each other. She doesn't want that to stop, but she doesn't know how to bring it up.
Turns out, the universe decides to force her hand.
She's preparing for a meeting with a student after class when her phone rings from inside her blazer pocket. She frowns at the number for Flynn and Amy's school on her caller ID as she answers.
At the words "there's been an accident" her world narrows. Her pulse quickens and breathing becomes harder, as if she's breathing through a thin straw. She hears random words that the school director is saying but her brain doesn't string them into sentences. She has to ask the woman to repeat herself once the ground beneath her is a little more stable.
Flynn fell from a tree. She hit her head on a rock. She was conscious when the ambulance took her away and the paramedics think she'll just need stitches. But they're taking her to the hospital anyway. Her teacher went with her. She writes down which hospital. The director tells her Amy is distraught and someone may need to come and pick her up as well.
Lucy is surprised she managed to retain any of that given the mania coursing through her veins. She's up and out of her office like a shot. Locking the door behind her, setting off to the parking garage, and dialing Wyatt's number on auto pilot.
Hospital. She has to get to the hospital. Where did she park her car again? Oh screw it. She'll just call a cab or an Uber or something. She's pretty sure she shouldn't drive this distracted anyway.
Wyatt picks up on the third ring.
"Hey, what's up?" He asks, as casually as if they were going over a shopping list.
She has to remind herself that he doesn't know there's an emergency to keep from yelling at him. Instead of yelling, her words come out in a rapidfire deluge of information. She can feel the world slipping away from her again as it did in her office.
"The school just called. Flynn fell out of a tree and hit her head. They're taking her to the hospital. Amy's upset and they want someone to pick her up and—" She stops walking in the middle of the faculty parking garage, tears trailing down her cheeks as she cluelessly searches for her nondescript sedan. "—and god dammit I can't find where I parked my car!"
Her words echo in the cavernous space and it's only then that she hears the raised volume of her own voice.
There's a break of silence before Wyatt speaks. When he does, his tone is low and soft in attempt to pacify her anxiety.
"Lucy, breathe. Just stop and take a breath."
She does as he asks and then takes a second breath for good measure.
"Better?" He asks.
She's still crying but she doesn't feel quite as hysterical. "A little. Wyatt, they took her to the hospital. She hit her head on a rock. Her head! What if it's more serious than stitches?"
"Was she conscious when they left for the hospital?" He asks as she hears worry seep into his tone.
"Yes, or that's what I was told anyway."
"Good. That's good. If it didn't knock her out then it's less likely to be too serious," Wyatt assures her. She knows he's not a medical professional but she also knows he's taken several blows to the head. His hopeful outlook eases some of the horror flooding her brain. "You go to the hospital and talk to the doctor. I'll go get Amy and we'll meet you there. Which hospital?"
She tells him the name of the hospital but just as they're about to hang up he stops her.
"Oh! The key fob for your car," he says. She hears a snap in the background and pictures him snapping his fingers as a thought hits him. Despite her apprehension, she smiles a little at that. She's so caught up in that visual that she almost misses his question. "Does it have an alarm button?"
"Yes," she answers with a furrowed brow.
"Use the alarm to find your car," he tells her. It's such an obvious solution that she's embarrassed she didn't think of it herself. His tone changes from decisive to warm before he continues. "She'll be okay, Lucy. We'll figure it out."
"We'll be fine?" She repeats optimistically, hoping to revive their mantra from before New Years. Before she screwed everything up, literally.
"We'll be fine," he says calmly. "I'll see you at the hospital as soon as I pick up Amy."
Her conversation with Wyatt stays with her. It keeps her grounded as she finds her car, drives to the hospital, and locates Flynn in the emergency room. She's on a gurney that's been curtained off for privacy and as soon as Lucy steps in to the area the doctor pulls her aside.
"Are you this little daredevil's mom?" He asks with a kind smile.
Lucy sniffles and grins slightly before she nods. The doctor hands her a tissue and waits for her to wipe her eyes before he gives her Flynn's rundown.
"She's absolutely fine. It's remarkable really. No signs of a concussion or swelling. Just a gash across her scalp that they're stitching now. Twelve stitches total. We won't need to keep her for observation and you can take her home as soon as they're done." The doctor squeezes her shoulder and winks at her. "Don't worry, Mrs. Preston-Logan. She'll be falling out of trees again in no time. She's a real trooper, that one."
Lucy feels relief all over her body but still manages an amused snort at the Doctor's last few sentences. "She gets the ability to take a licking and keep on ticking from her father. He's just as hard headed as she is. Never thought that would work in my favor until now."
Flynn spots her as the doctor leaves and brightens considerably. They finish her stitches and then Lucy's finally left alone with her baby girl. She rushes to her side and wraps her in a tight hug. Flynn cries against her chest. She's not in pain, Lucy asked to make sure. She's just scared. Scared is much better. Lucy can deal with scared.
"Was it a big tree?" Lucy asks as she wipes Flynn's tears away with the tissue the doctor gave her.
Flynn nods. "The biggest one at school."
"Well, thank goodness you're so stubborn," Lucy tells her with a warm smile, as she wills her own tears away. "The doctor said that hard head of yours kept you from getting really really hurt. How about you don't climb so high next time unless there's a grown up there to catch you, okay?"
"Okay," Flynn agrees sheepishly.
Lucy closes her eyes and places a thankful kiss to Flynn's forehead. Whatever force protected her little girl has every bit of her gratitude. "You were very brave with those stitches, baby."
"Thank you, mommy," Flynn says with with a sniffle.
"I think that calls for some ice cream when we get home. What do you think?" Lucy asks her as she cranes back to meet her eyes.
"Really?" Flynn asks in excitement. Lucy is relieved to see Flynn's bottom lip has stopped quivering. "Can Amy have some too?"
Lucy nods with an amused grin. She's the one who was hurt and she wants to make sure her sister gets a treat too? This kid. Absolutely precious. "What kind do you want? We'll pick it up on the way home."
"Chocolate chip cookie dough!" Flynn yells happily. Thank God she has Wyatt's ability to bounce back. Lucy has no doubt that's how Flynn is able to sound so chipper after all she's been through.
"What's all this about chocolate chip cookie dough?" A voice asks from the opening in the curtain. "Who said you could have ice cream?"
Lucy turns to find Wyatt with an unusually quiet Amy in his arms. His face is teasing, with a crooked grin pointed at Flynn. She fights the urge to throw her arms around him in relief. Just seeing his face calms her racing pulse and pounding heart.
"Mommy did! She said I was really brave about the stitches and deserved ice cream! Amy too!"
Amy hasn't looked at Flynn or lifted her head from Wyatt's shoulder. Lucy's heart goes out to her. It must have been terrifying watching her sister be taken away in an ambulance, not knowing where she was being taken or what was happening. Where Flynn has Wyatt's fortitude, Amy has Lucy's sensitivity. Poor Amy must have been beside herself in terror.
Wyatt sits in the chair next to Flynn's gurney and then presses a kiss to Amy's temple before softly speaking against her skin. "See, babygirl, she's okay. She's even made sure you get ice cream. She's right here with us and looks good as new."
Finally, Amy picks her head up and turns toward Flynn. She stares at her for a long moment, cataloguing Flynn's well being for herself, before she reaches out and grabs her twin's hand. She holds it tight, sniffles, and then meets Flynn's eyes.
"Where's your bandaid?" Amy asks her sister, looking as though it took everything in her to force out the words.
Both Lucy and Wyatt breathe a sigh of relief. Both girls seem okay, or at least seem like they will be..
"They didn't give me one," Flynn answers. "They sewed me up! You know, kinda like how Auntie Denise makes her scarves?"
"Ew! They did that to your head?" Amy says as she scrunches up her nose in disgust.
"Yep! Twelve stitches!" Flynn then looks from Amy to Wyatt and asks. "Is that a lot?"
Yes, Lucy thinks. Too many for her liking.
Wyatt nods seriously. "That's a lot." He looks as if he doesn't like that number either.
"Wow! Flynn! That means you're extra brave and we should get at least two scoops of ice cream!" Amy yells with a sincere stare of admiration pointed at her sibling.
Lucy lets out a sudden booming laugh at that and shakes her head at her little rascally twins. Wyatt meets her eyes over the girls' heads and laughs with her. What a handful they are. But totally and completely worth it.
They take the girls home and let them have ice cream before dinner. Not at all a normal occurrence in their house. But this day was hardly normal and Lucy was too eager to see them smiling to care. As many things as her mother did wrong with her, her attitude toward sugar wasn't one of them. Lucy adopted it almost as soon as it became their responsibility to feed two growing girls. She was relieved to find out that other Lucy had the same philosophy.
She leaves Wyatt with the girls for a moment to wash the smudged mascara off of her face only to feel her fear and her panic hit her in full force once again. It comes out of nowhere. She thought she was fine and that she'd dealt with it, but obviously not. It blindsides her and she has to grip the bathroom counter to remain upright. She manages to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet and then tries to focus on her breathing.
Flynn is okay. Flynn is okay. Flynn is okay.
Repeating it to herself doesn't work. Because all she hears is the doctor telling her there was no "swelling." At the time she thought he meant around the gash but now…
Now she understands he meant no swelling of the brain.
The threat of what could have happened turns up her panic a few levels until she's shaking and the bathroom around her fades away. Instead, she's in a car with water creeping up her legs. Her door is stuck and her seatbelt is jammed. She can't move. She can't breath. She hears her name but it sounds far away. The water surges higher and reaches her waist. For some reason her hands are cold too. Her whole body is cold.
Then suddenly there's warmth. Starting with her fingers and then her palms before it extends to her wrists.
"Lucy."
She hears it that time. Her name. It sounds close.
"Breathe, Lucy."
Familiar words, familiar voice, familiar hands. Hands. That's the warmth she feels. He's holding her hands. That warmth touches her face. She feels fingers spread across her cheek and a thumb graze a path over her cheekbone. Slowly, the tile floor of their bathroom reappears in place of the car floorboard. The water recedes and the blackness gives way to light. The first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is blue. Concerned, anguished blue.
"There you are," the familiar voice says with a relieved sigh. "Come on, keep breathing."
Wyatt.
"Hi," she says through a deep breath and a wan smile.
"Hi," he replies. "I thought you were gonna pass out on me for a second there, ma'am."
"Sorry to disappoint," she mutters with a pathetic chuckle.
"What triggered this?" He asks as he continues to caress his thumb over her cheek. "You were fine earlier, I thought."
"I thought so too," she confesses. "But then I remembered...the doctor said—he said there was no swelling. I didn't catch it before because I was so worried about her, but now it's all I can hear. He meant swelling of the brain. She—she could have died, Wyatt." The tears are working their way back as she thinks about what she would do if she ever lost one of the girls. She's not sure she could survive it. "We could have lost Flynn today."
"But we didn't," Wyatt reminds her. "She's downstairs eating ice cream and watching Paw Patrol with Amy. She's absolutely perfect."
"We were lucky."
"Yeah, we were, but, Lucy, you can't sit here and stress yourself out over something that didn't happen. All four Preston-Logan's are safe and accounted for and home. We're okay," he assures her.
"Oh God, Wyatt, I don't know that I can do this mom thing," she says with a loud gulp. "It's too much. I feel too much. I worry all the time! If it were up to me they'd be bubble children and live in some inflatable cocoon where nothing could ever hurt them. I don't like that I have to go to work and they have to go to school. I—what if all this worry and fear turns me into my mother?"
He quirks a disbelieving brow at her and chuckles. "Not possible."
"I'm serious! What if I try to control them or push them too far? What if I make them feel like nothing they do is good enough?"
"There's about as much of a chance of that happening as there is of Denise knitting a presentable looking scarf," Wyatt says with an amused grin.
"Wyatt," she says with a huff. "I'm not joking."
"Neither am I," he says as he leans back and sits on the edge of the tub. "I'll prove it to you."
"How?" She asks him with a roll of her eyes.
"Just one question should do it," Wyatt tells her with a knowing grin. "What do you want them to be when they grow up?"
"Happy," she answers instantly.
"Exactly," Wyatt says with a warm smile. "Do you care what they do to achieve that happiness?"
She smiles back at him as she begins to understand what he's getting at. "No."
He nods and then continues with an impish grin. "Do you have a grand plan for one of them to follow in your footsteps? Do you have some douchebag doctor's kid in mind for an arranged marriage? Do you—"
She laughs and slaps a hand over his mouth when it's clear he doesn't plan on stopping. "Okay, I get the gist, smartass."
He pulls her hand away from his mouth and holds it in his own as his expression transitions from mischievious to heartfelt. "You're so much more than your mother ever was, Lucy. You're full of warmth and compassion. You care about others. Not even five years on the run from Rittenhouse could take that from you. Those are the things you're going to pass on to the girls. Those are the kind of people you're going to help them become. I know I have my doubts about being a father, but I have never once doubted your ability to be their mother. You were meant for them. I know that for certain."
"Thank you," she replies with an awed expression. She never expected such a speech from him. He is a man of few words, but when he chooses to use them he always floors her. Always. "For the record," she adds as she squeezes his hand. "I have no doubts about you being a father. Not a single one."
He meets her eyes and the next words out of his mouth surprise her. For once, they're on the same page and she's taken aback.
"I miss this," he admits. "Us." He winces awkwardly and then clarifies. "Talking. Us talking."
"Me too," she confesses. "I miss this too."
"I know that you think we can't...that we can't be more than we already are and I get that. But can we at least be friends again?" Wyatt asks as he looks away from her to focus on the tile floor.
She gets up and then sits down on the edge of the tub next to him, never once releasing his hand. She nudges his shoulder with her own and smiles at him. "I mean I guess co-parenting would be easier with a friend than a housemate."
He chuckles. "Probably, yeah."
"I'd like that," she says as he finally returns his eyes to hers. "It's been a while since we've really been friends and I would like to have that back."
"Then consider it done," Wyatt tells her as he gives her an easy smile. "Friend."
Friend. Hearing him say that should make her unbelievably happy. It's what she wants—what's she's been wanting for a couple of weeks now—but it doesn't satisfy the way she thought it would. She still feels like some vital piece of her is missing.
She thought she knew what she wanted. Now she's not so sure. Well, Fuck.
Wyatt's been out of town for a week. For the first time since going back to work, Denise gave him a real field assignment. He felt awful leaving Lucy alone with the girls but she was very supportive and from what he understood she had plenty of help from Rufus, Jiya and Denise. He checked in with her and the girls every day but he is honestly surprised by how severely he's missed them.
He decides to surprise them when the mission wraps up and it's clear he can come home early. He talked to Lucy that morning and she said the girls would be staying with Rufus and Jiya that night so she could get some grading done. She also mentioned that her car wouldn't start and she had to rely on a coworker to get to campus.
His thought is that he can save her the awkward ride home with a colleague and pick her up himself. Maybe he can even take her to dinner. There are things they probably need to discuss. He isn't sure what he wants with Lucy anymore and he doesn't think she's as sure as she pretends to be either. He still loves her. That's obvious. But loving someone doesn't mean you should be with them. Not always.
Is Lucy right? Are they fated to hurt each other over and over again or do they just need to work on their timing? Can he actually make her happy? Is there a way for this pretend relationship to become a real functional relationship? Not just for the sake of the girls but for themselves as well? He's not entirely sure but he would like to find out.
He shows up just as her last lecture is ending. He's making his way through the crowd of students that are leaving and the closer he gets to Lucy the more his stomach drops. Standing there next to her with a charming smile is Dr. Emile Emory. The man from New Years that Wyatt took an instant dislike to. He leans toward her and whispers something in her ear and she throws her head back in laughter. Wyatt can't remember the last time she laughed like that with him.
Was this why she didn't want him? Did she want someone like this Dr. Emory guy instead? Older, sophisticated, more degrees than he knew what to do with? Jealousy flares in his chest and he hates it. He hates himself for it. It's his most damning flaw and he knows it's caused a rift between him and Lucy before.
Lucy spots him as he stops on the last step and beams at him.
Well, at least she seems happy to see him.
She excuses herself from Emile to collect her things. Emile waves politely at Wyatt before he turns and leaves the auditorium. He continues the rest of the way to her and tries to get a handle on the flare of jealousy that's now fanning itself into a full on flame. She stares at him for a long hesitant pause before she finally throws herself at him in a hug. A genuine old fashioned Lucy Preston hug. The first one he's gotten from her in longer than he can remember.
It's almost enough to stamp out the jealousy, until the conversation starts.
"You're home!" She says as she pulls out of the hug. "The girls will be so happy to see you in the morning."
His brow crinkles at her phrasing.
"What about you?" He asks worriedly. "Are you happy to see me?"
She gives him a look as if he's lost his mind and says, "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be happy to see you?"
"No reason. Just...the way you said that was odd. You only talked about the girls," he tells her with a self conscious shrug.
"I'm sorry," she says sarcastically with a teasing laugh. "I thought the hug said it all. I'll remember to back it up with words next time."
"What was that Emory guy doing here?" He asks as he takes her work tote from her and they make their way up the auditorium steps.
"Waiting to give me a ride home, until you showed up that is."
"What?"
His question comes out with more force than he intends but the shock of what he's just heard prevents him from catching it in time.
"I told you. The sedan wouldn't start and I had to get a colleague to take me to work. He lives closest to us so he offered," Lucy explains with a casual lift of her shoulder. "No big deal."
"So, he was going to take you home to our house where you would be alone and kid-free for the night?" Wyatt asks through a tense jaw. He hears the words and he knows they're idiotic but he can't stop them.
"Watch yourself, Logan," she replies in a warning tone. There's thinly veiled anger dripping from her every word. "You're approaching very thin ice."
That shuts him up. He's heard that tone a handful of times in all the years he's known her and it never ends well for the person on the receiving end of it. He doesn't say anything else for the rest of their walk to his car or even the drive back to their house. He's afraid he'll say more stupid shit. It isn't until their front door closes behind them that he feels comfortable enough to speak again.
"I'm sorry," he blurts out with a regretful sigh. "I was an ass back there. I mean, even if you were...involved with him it's none of my business. You know, cause you and I aren't—we're not actually together."
"I'm glad you're sorry, but that still doesn't explain anything. What was that, Wyatt?" She asks as she throws her bag down on the couch. She's angry and confused. He can see both of those emotions on her face plain as day as she speaks. "You were like that with Flynn long before anything happened, you were determined I should never even give Noah a chance, and now Dr. Emory? Why? You can't decide if you want me but in the meantime no one else can have me? Is that it?"
So much for a nice chat over dinner about finding out what they could be. He's just gone and fucked that all up, hasn't he? Although, at this point, what does he have to lose? She's already pissed. Might as well tell her the truth.
"Knowing that I want you has never been the problem, Lucy. The problem is deciding whether being with you would be worse or better for us and after all this time and the things that have happened between us I just...I don't know if I would hurt you more or if we would actually be happy— really and truly happy."
He's thinking his next session with Lindsay probably needs to focus on his jealousy. It's been a problem his whole life and he really needs to stop letting it get in his way. Especially with Lucy.
"And seeing you potentially happy with someone else scares me. I start to think that I could lose you and I'm not ready for that. I'm never ready for that," he admits in a rush. "So I say stupid things and end up fucking it all up. I'm sorry."
Her anger softens and her eyelids close. The heels of her hands rub into her eyes and she breathes in and out slowly. Like she's trying to work up the nerve. His feet naturally carry him closer and closer to her the more emotional she gets. He physically can't maintain his distance when she might be hurt.
"It's not like I've been a saint either, Wyatt," she tells him as she removes her hands from her face. She looks briefly surprised at the amount of space he's crossed but recovers quickly. "I've been running from you since the day Rufus died. But the thing is, I can't let myself get too far away from you. Something about you always pulls me back in. And the result is that I treat you like a damn yo-yo. That's never been fair for either of us." She pauses and he hears her sniff and then gulp back emotions before she pushes on. "I want you but I'm scared I won't be enough to keep you. I'm scared that you'll end up hurt because of me."
"So, essentially, we're both scared shitless?" He asks with a tiny dry grin as he comes to stand directly in front of her.
"Essentially," she agrees with a watery chuckle.
"I just want you to be happy, Lucy," he says with a conflicted sigh as he reaches for her hands. "And I'm not sure if I'm the guy for that particular job."
"I think we're on the exact same page, Logan," she tells him as she adjusts their hold and threads her fingers through his. "But what's not clear is how we decide. How do we find a solution?"
There's no real answer. They've found themselves in some sort of emotional stalemate. So, what do they always do when the problems or the emotions are too big to resolve? They seek out resolution elsewhere. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help leaning his forehead against hers and then slowly closing that final bit of distance until his lips are on hers.
And goddamn if that doesn't feel perfect then he has no idea what does.
Her hands release his and he fears she might literally push him away, but to his relief she wraps them around his middle and tugs him closer. He may have started this kiss but she's the one who deepens it. It's her tongue that asks for entrance first. She whimpers into the kiss as he opens his mouth to her and that yearning sound sparks a need for more of her. To hear more of those noises from her.
He guides them toward the stairs and they manage to navigate it without losing momentum or breaking their connection. He's afraid the minute they do they'll both come to their senses and this will all stop. He knows it should stop but he doesn't actually want it to. He wants to show her that they can be different. He wants to remind her of those long lost possibilities. Maybe, like so many other things, the answer to their problem can be found in history. Their history. When he wanted nothing more than to be there for her.
Lucy doesn't seem to want to stop either. She kicks off her boots and then gets to work unbuttoning his shirt. Once that's pushed down his shoulders and off. He reaches for the bottom hem of her dress. He peels it off, over her head, and tosses it aside. Her hands undo his belt and his fly and before he knows it they're both in nothing more than their underwear.
He pushes her back onto their bed. He's briefly amused by the fact that this is the first time they've actually made it all the way upstairs. Her nails scrape over his chest as he settles on top of her and then one hand slips even lower under the elastic of his boxers. He feels her hand wrap around him and immediately thrusts into her hold. Fuck.
He could do what she wants. He could go for the obvious release, but that's not what he wants this to be. He's on a mission and she will not distract him. He grabs her wrist and pulls her hand away from him. He kisses it before releasing her hand and then attaching his lips to her neck, finding her pulse point and sucking gently. She arches underneath him as her hands roam his back. He lets his kisses drift to her collarbone, the swell of her breast as it meets the cup of her bra, the dip between those breasts. His tongue burns a trail across her stomach and she whimpers again. That's the sound he's been trying to draw out of her. He pulls at the elastic waist of her underwear and slides them down her legs. Half lidded sultry amber eyes find his as he nudges her thighs apart. He holds that stare as he kisses the inside of one thigh and then the other. Her gaze manages to stay on his until the very moment his mouth lands on her warm, wet center.
She throws her head back into the pillows and writhes underneath him while another one of those encouraging whimpers escapes her. He has to pin her hips to the mattress as she starts to buck against his mouth. Her hands dive into his hair and press him tighter against her. He feels her muscles coil all around him and hears her breathlessly moan his name.
He almost loses his self control at the sound of his name wantonly falling off her lips. Maybe she doesn't realize it, but she hasn't uttered his name during sex since that night in 1941. It's nearly enough to derail him into pushing inside of her right then. But he started this to prove a point, and he plans to finish it.
He wants to be there for her again and he can be. She only has to let him.
His name leaves her lips several more times before she goes rigid around him, arches so high that she nearly sits straight up, and then sags back into the mattress breathing in ragged pants. Sometime between observing Lucy satisfied and spent in their bed and her dragging his lips to hers for a needy appreciative kiss, he has a realization.
He knows he can make Lucy happy. He knows he can be what she needs. He's not scared of hurting her, not anymore. He wants to help her heal the way she's helped him. He wants to make this life they're living a reality.
He wants her.
