Wyatt

With every minute that passed, Wyatt found himself becoming more and more anxious. He turned to Agent Christopher, who was deep in thought, her gaze distant and far away.

"Do you think he was able to pull it off?" Wyatt wondered aloud. Christopher didn't flinch as his gruff voice broke the tense silence, only cut her eyes to him.

"No way to know." She replied evenly. "All we can do is wait."

There was something about her uncanny ability to keep it all together that put Wyatt even more on edge, as she was seemingly unaffected by the possibility of their plan going terribly awry. He could appreciate Rufus' earlier frustration with him, since he was originally able to put up a relatively calm, collected front. But his patience was wearing dangerously thin, as the possibility of failure began to creep in at the edges of his confidence, and he was assaulted with the idea of losing both Lucy and Rufus. And after failing Jessica for what felt like a second time, Wyatt wasn't sure how many more losses he would survive.

Christopher must have noticed the soldier's rising panic because she turned back to him abruptly.

"Do you trust Rufus?" She asked him, her gaze steady and imploring.

"With my life." Wyatt answered somewhat defensively, as if there was a reality in which he would answer any differently. It was a small comfort to him knowing how far the three of them had come, from total strangers, to distrusting comrades, and now to genuine friends. If he was being honest with himself, they were the two people who meant the most to him in the world.

"Then you should trust that he'll make it back to us." She advised, before adding. "I know I do."

Wyatt was taken aback, if not by her directness, but by the fact that she was right, and that she cared. He should have known better by now than to lump her in with every other detached, unfeeling government operative he'd worked with in the past. If there was one thing that had been made clear by now, it was that she had not been cut from the same cloth as everyone else. They wouldn't have made it this far otherwise; Rittenhouse would have already snuffed out their feeble resistance before it even had the chance to start. It was her combination of empathy and initiative that had carried them through the storm, her undying instinct to do what was right coupled with her unintended bond with the time travelling trio. He knew that behind her deceptively stable composure she was just as worried about the other two members of the team as he was. And that was the strongest advantage she had. Not that she had everything figured out, but the idea that she didn't, and was more than willing to admit it.

Nobody has it all together, he remembered saying as he watched Judith Campbell waltz away from them back in Vegas. And although he was the one who said so, it was not until this moment that he clearly saw the truth in his own words. They were both struggling, the two of them waiting out what could possibly be the longest three hours of Wyatt's life. Yet, despite whatever fear she may have felt for Rufus, the older woman was the image of absolute fortitude. Because it wasn't that Denise Christopher had it all together, not at all, it was that she had faith. She believed in the team, believed that everything would come out all right in the end, and that was everything.

Wyatt was scrambling to fathom a sufficient reply but was drowned out by the unusual yet familiar sound of the air around them humming, practically vibrating with energy. He barely had a moment to process the sensation before the lifeboat promptly exploded into existence just a few yards away in the center of the empty warehouse, the metal rings spinning rapidly before slowing to a stop with an audible click.

He made it. Wyatt thought with relief, almost as if a literal weight had been lifted from his chest.

However, stern pragmatism swiftly took hold of Wyatt's mind as he watched Agent Christopher draw her gun and approach the lifeboat cautiously. He quickly followed suit, his glock a steady weight in his hand as he advanced toward the opening hatch. Although Rufus was the only one who could pilot the time machine, there was no telling who he had been forced to bring along. They couldn't take any risks.

Suddenly, the circular hatch door opened and the inner cockpit of the ship was revealed. All too quickly Wyatt's sense of apprehension was replaced by the impulse to laugh.

There, in the pilot's seat quivering like a wet dog in the rain, was Rufus, tranquilizer gun in hand pointed at an unconscious man slumped over in his seat. The tranquilizer dart was embedded in the man's thigh, unnervingly close to the agent's crotch, so close that it looked almost intentional.

Wyatt eyed Rufus mockingly. "Really, Rufus, I know he's probably a Rittenhouse Agent, but come on. Did you have to shoot him in the balls?"

Surprisingly, despite his apparent alarm, Rufus was still able to muster a half-hearted dirty look as his eyes turned on Wyatt. "As if I did it on purpose." He objected, loosening his seat belt with shaking hands.

"You did it." Wyatt assured him, helping him down from the rim of the opening. "You held it like I said, huh?"

"Yeah, pulled the trigger between breaths." Rufus affirmed, a bit of color rising in his cheeks. He almost sounded proud of himself.

"I knew you could do it." Christopher smiled approvingly at a sheepish Rufus.

"Rufus, you're a bad ass." Wyatt agreed, grinning at his teammate.

"If by badass you mean scared out of my mind." Rufus chuckled nervously as he brushed off his retro clothes, sporting a tacky yellow sweater and oversized black coat.

Wyatt eyed him curiously as he came to stand beside Agent Christopher. "So where did they send you? The original JC Penny blowout sale?"

Rufus grimaced as he looked down at his outfit before responding, "No, they sent us to May 3rd, 1962."

"What does that have to do with Flynn?" Christopher questioned, the affectionate moment passing away.

"Do you remember that woman Flynn was following on our mission to save the moon launch? Maria Thompkins?" Rufus addressed Wyatt, a grim look settling on his features.

"Yeah, Flynn's mother." Wyatt recalled. "She was a secretary at NASA."

"Well, in 1962 she was a 17-year-old girl living in Houston, Texas. Rittenhouse sent us back to kill her, to make sure that Flynn was never born." Rufus explained solemnly, his face contorting in disgust at the thought of doing something so unspeakable.

Both Wyatt and Agent Christopher looked just as appalled as Rufus felt, at a loss for words as they all came to grips with just how ruthless Rittenhouse really was. Apparently collateral damage and innocent lives meant very little in comparison to self-preservation where they were concerned.

Wyatt cleared his throat before quietly saying, "You did the right thing, Rufus. If Rittenhouse is running the shop then they can't have the time machine."

"Believe me, no one understands that better than I do." Rufus replied soberly. Wyatt could sense the pilot's justified discomfort, as he and his family had been threatened by Rittenhouse on more than one occasion. Sometimes Wyatt had to take a moment to remember that Rufus and Agent Christopher had a world outside of this mess. They had families to protect, lives to go back to. Unlike him, who had nothing waiting for him at home except an empty apartment and another assignment to risk his life for. He wondered if he could ever be more than just someone's hired muscle, although it was with a start that he supposed he already was. Sure, in the technical ordering of the team roles, he was the designated soldier. But the three of them had already gone so far above and beyond what the so-called job description originally entailed. They meant something to each other, that much he knew with absolute certainty. They all played their part, and they all picked each other up when they fell down. Although, if he was being honest, it was Lucy who did that more than anyone else.

The thought of her brought on a surge of emotion he wasn't prepared for, edging somewhere between a swell of yearning and the unyielding grip of fear. They were still groping in the dark in terms of finding out what had happened to her, and he found he wasn't willing to sit back and wait much longer. She had already been missing for far too long.

"So, they can't track us? You shut them down?" Wyatt asked Rufus, his tone suddenly urgent.

"Yeah, but it's only a matter of hours before Mason is able to counteract the worm and get the network back online. I slipped Jiya the burner phone so she might be able to slow him down, but there's no way to be sure." Rufus' forehead creased with worry at the mention of his girlfriend, knowing she would probably hate him for not clueing her in on the plan sooner. But it was the only way to keep her safe, or at least that's what he told himself.

"How much time does that give us?" Christopher inquired, ever aware of the irony of wondering how much time they had when they had a literal time machine waiting in the wings.

"The lifeboat's battery is drained after two jumps. It'll need four hours to recharge, if it even can, and that's-"

"Okay, it's all right. One step at a time." Wyatt deliberately repeated his familiar catch phrase, if only for the satisfaction of seeing Rufus bristle. "First step, now that we have the lifeboat, we need to figure out what happened to Lucy."

Rufus' expression darkened. "I hate to tell you, but I think I already know."

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked before Wyatt could beat her to it. The soldier could feel himself tensing in anticipation, afraid of what he was about to hear. He fought the instinct to prepare himself for the worst.

Rufus shifted uncomfortably on his feet before lifting his eyes to Wyatt's. "Agent Neville and the rest of his team seemed just as confused about Lucy's disappearance as we were." Rufus said. "They even asked me about the last time I'd seen her, and I don't think they were putting on a show, which means-"

"Which means there's only one other person who could have taken her." Christopher deduced.

"Flynn." Wyatt growled through gritted teeth. "We have to go after him."

"You and I both know that tracking Flynn in the present is next to impossible." Christopher pointed out. "It took Jiya weeks to pin point his base in Oakland, and that was with the whole of Mason's IT team backing her up."

"There has to be something we can do." Wyatt protested angrily. He refused to simply sit back and do nothing, not when Lucy's life on the line. Who knew what Flynn could possibly be doing to her at that very moment?

As if on cue, a dull alarm erupted from inside the Lifeboat. Rufus, drawn to the sound like a magnet, was on his feet and hoisting himself up through the hatch before either Wyatt or Christopher could offer to help.

"What is it, Rufus?" Wyatt called as he ran up alongside the machine, a little taken aback by the fact that for once he was actually hoping that Flynn was up to no good.

Rufus poked his head out of the circular opening, looking equal parts giddy and anxious. "Flynn jumped."

Wyatt felt some of his tension burn off as the words left Rufus' mouth. At the same time a burst of adrenaline flooded his body, as he prepared himself for the fight to come. And fight he would.

"When?"

Lucy

Th trial had been, as Lucy predicted, a complete and utter sham. It was amazing to her that no one in the room was willing to say what they were all thinking: that the proceedings had been undeniably rigged.

Without the material evidence needed to lawfully convict him, the prosecutors had been left without a leg to stand on. They actually went so far as to (however accurately) accuse someone of stealing their testimony in an effort to obstruct the court proceedings, but the judge couldn't seem to care less, looking as if the entire arraignment was a waste of his time. Meanwhile the jurors and spectators clustered around the courtroom actually outright laughed, flinging epithets and even physical rubbish at the flustered prosecution.

Despite her initial shock she had to remind herself that the people of Chicago actually adored Al Capone, and that the general public had neither wanted or expected him to go to prison over something as petty as tax evasion. Thus, cheering on his ability to weasel his way out of prison was just matter of cultural fealty.

Hot, burning anger simmered beneath her skin, humming in her fingertips as she watched Capone and his posse rise from the defense council table and make their way to toward the back exit amongst enthusiastic whoops and shouts from the public observers. Even the press was in a frenzy, scribbling frantically on their note pads, snapping photos, and hollering incoherent questions at the victorious gangster as he passed them by with an air of self-satisfaction.

She tried to imagine, however uselessly, how this day had originally gone, with Capone unceremoniously thrown off of his throne of crime and marched promptly off to prison. Would the people have been so cheerful then?

Well, now they'll never know. Lucy thought, a sour taste in her mouth. It was her who did this, however unintentional her actions may have been. In retrospect she should have just let Al Capone throw them out into the street. It would have foiled Flynn's plan before it even got off the ground. But she had to go open her big mouth in her panic, of course. Although she couldn't shoulder all of the blame. She knew Flynn would have found another way into Capone's inner circle with or without her help, he wasn't one to give up so easily.

What does he even need Capone for? She wondered, glancing at Flynn sidelong, trying to gage the angle of his operation. But he had been incredibly tight lipped about the real aim of his plan so far.

Flynn had been mostly silent during the court proceedings, showing neither approval nor distaste at what was unfolding before him. He simply watched, digesting all of the information objectively as the trial unraveled exactly how he foresaw, drawing him closer to his end goal…whatever that was. He hardly payed Lucy much attention during the whole affair aside from the occasional sideways glance to ensure she didn't have any illusions about slipping away in the throngs of people passing by. She was grateful for the few moments she had to herself, unaccompanied by Flynn's manhandling or Karl's disconcerting closeness when she was left under his watch.

Come to think of it, she actually wasn't sure where Karl had run off to, as he seemed to separate from the group when they all left the hotel for the trial. She had no idea what mysterious errand Flynn had sent the scoundrel on, but she was sure it couldn't be anything good.

Lucy squirmed somewhat uncomfortably in her seat as Capone and his band approached the audience benches where her and Flynn were seated. The mobster had insisted that Mr. and Mrs. Flynn joined him today, to be by his side and see the look on Eliot Ness' face when he managed to dodge the futile consequences of justice yet again.

Of all the people there, Lucy sympathized with Ness the most. He was just a stand-up guy trying to do the right thing. But now with Capone still on the loose, he would definitely have a target on his back. She feared the 'untouchable' one might not be able to live up to his namesake after today.

Capone met them at the rear of the courthouse with a smug smile on his face, clapping Flynn heartily on the back as he thanked them for their help.

"Boy, were you right. They really were out to get me over some bull tax files." He snickered.

"I'm glad we were able to get to you before it was too late." Flynn acknowledged, smiling thinly in return. It was all an act Lucy knew, a front to get something he needed. Capone, perceptive as he was, seemed to notice it to, as he moved on to more pressing matters. Chiefly being his growing interest in Lucy.

"Well I owe my thanks to you and the missus." He returned, shaking Flynn's hand firmly before taking Lucy's fingertips in his own and kissing the back of her hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She might have imagined it, but she could have sworn she felt Flynn flinch. Although she was too preoccupied with containing her own revulsion to give it much further attention. A polite smile and bow of her head was the best she could manage without physically wrenching her hand out of his grasp, as Capone seemed to care very little about her fictitious marriage. Not that she cared much for it either, but at least it theoretically kept her out of reach from unwanted advances. Theoretically.

Seeming to sense a bit of tension, Capone gave Lucy some space and threw Flynn what might pass as a sarcastically apologetic smirk. Almost as if to say, 'you know how it is, I just can't help myself'. Flynn took the gesture in stride but said nothing. The whole exchange made Lucy want to simultaneously throw up and kick the unruly mob boss where she knew it would hurt. But it was Al Capone who eventually broke the silence, seeming to remember why he had approached the couple in the first place.

"And make no mistake, I intend to pay you back in full. We can discuss the arrangements on our way back to the Lexington after I finish with my press conference." He assured candidly, before giving Flynn a friendly pat on the shoulder and slipping outside with his gang clustered around him like a pack.

Lucy watched them warily as they drifted away through the crowd before turning her attention to Flynn, who was observing her with a strained look on his face.

"What?" Lucy asked as his eyes bored into her own, almost as if she had done something to annoy him.

The sound of her voice seemed to snap him out of his haze as he sighed and muttered, "Can't take you anywhere without some historical figure fawning all over you".

Lucy felt herself flush with heat rising in her cheeks, averting her eyes from Flynn's as she tried to figure out what that meant. It wasn't her fault that everyone from Robert Lincoln to Ian Fleming and now even Al Capone had thrown some heart eyes her way. Flynn had no right to be jealous anyway, made up marriage or not. Or maybe he was just looking out for her safety. Either way, she had no interest in whatever protective impulses he may have been having.

"I can take care of myself, thank you." She replied curtly, crossing her arms. Flynn only grinned sardonically but offered no further comment on the matter, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts at the moment.

The sound of shuffling feet and the surrounding chatter seemed to refocus his attention though, as he realized they needed to catch up with their gangster cohort.

"Come on." He whispered, placing his hand on the small of her back. "We're going to miss the show."

Lucy tensed at the contact but made no move to resist as she figured it was better than being tugged along by a grip on her upper arm, which she was sure would have some faint bruising by now. Although that was the least of her worries at the moment, as everything about the last few hours had felt inherently wrong, like someone had taken the ending to one of her favorite novels and just completely rewritten the last chapter, botching it in the process. None of this was supposed to happen, and for once, there was no moral dilemma about whether history should be protected. For as sociable and outwardly friendly as Capone seemed to the public, he was in all reality a very dangerous criminal. He was solely responsible for the St. Valentine's Day massacre, among many other exploits, and had to be stopped before he hurt more innocent people. She couldn't let him just literally get away with murder, free to continue his unopposed reign over the Chicago underworld. There had to be a way to put things right, to make things go back to some semblance of how they were supposed to be.

What she couldn't figure out was how on Earth she was going to do it. Or, more specifically, how she was going to get away from Flynn.

The sun was peeking through the clouds by the time she and Flynn emerged onto the front steps of the Chicago Courthouse, and they found that the impromptu press conference was already in full swing.

"What can I say? The crooked lawyers for the prosecution somehow lost all the evidence they had on me." She heard Al Capone's mocking tone from the podium where every journalist in town seemed to be cramming for a look at the crime boss who couldn't be caught.

Not lost evidence, Lucy thought grudgingly, but stolen, yes.

"But if you ask me, they never had it in the first place. They should be the ones going on trial!" Capone exclaimed heartily. He was absolutely full of himself, and everyone around him was eating it up.

"So, it's true then? All charges against you have been dropped." One of the reporters inquired, looking at Capone expectantly.

"With no evidence, the honorable judge Wilkerson had no choice but to drop the case." Capone declared, his swarthy face settling into a grin. "Justice has been served."

With that, the surrounding mixture of reporters and observers burst into an outcry of approval, cheering Capone on as he withdrew from the podium and began to make his way down towards the street. He threw a haphazard glance over his shoulder, scanning for Lucy and Flynn before spotting the couple and gesturing for them to follow.

Eager to get this show on the road, Flynn wasted no time in plowing his way through the mass of people, taking Lucy by the wrist as he carved out a path for them.

She distantly wondered if anyone noticed how she was constantly being dragged to and fro by her so-called husband, although, being that it was the 1930's, she supposed that passed for somewhat normal.

Suddenly, just as Lucy was clearing the last few steps on their way to where Al Capone's car was waiting at the curb, she spotted two familiar faces among the crowd. Not trusting her eyes, she did a double take as she once again found the two people who she was looking for. The two people who didn't belong there any more than she did.

Wyatt and Rufus. She thought to herself, her heart palpitating with relief and fear in equal measure. They were standing together discreetly at the edge of the crowd, wearing what she was sure were stolen clothes. She would be lying if she said she wasn't happy to see them but was also all too aware of the danger they put themselves in by coming after her.

Out of the two of them, she was most astonished to see Wyatt, since considering the circumstances of their last parting she wasn't she would ever see him again. But it appeared that he had managed to escape whatever black hole the government appeared for him to disappear into, and she couldn't be more grateful.

He came back for me. She thought to herself in wonder, her heart swelling with love for the man who always showed up when she needed him. From shooting her would be kidnapper at the Hindenburg to saving her from the clutches of H.H. Holmes, he hadn't let her down yet.

Wait…the man she loved?

There was no time to properly process the thought, and yet she knew it was true, tracing the lines of his face with her eyes with the little seconds she had before she was whisked away into Capone's waiting motorcade.

She knew it the moment Wyatt saw her, because his eyes visibly widened in surprise and a similar look of relief washed over his own features. Rufus stood there beside him, a small involuntary grin pulling at his lips as he caught sight of Lucy as well. But their reprieve was short lived as both the men's gazes locked on Flynn, pulling her along with him in an unyielding hold. She could see that Wyatt was about to spring forward and reach for her, about to do exactly what Flynn wanted him to. Knowing that the moment Wyatt and Rufus revealed themselves Flynn would send some of Capone's henchman to apprehend them, Lucy quickly made the only decision she could.

Subtly and deliberately as she could manage, Lucy quickly shook her head at Wyatt, imploring him with her eyes to understand that this wasn't the time or place to attempt any kind of rescue mission.

Despite forcing herself to be practical in this moment, Lucy was overwhelmed by the opportunity passing her by, as she had no idea how Rufus and Wyatt would find her again once they set off for the Lexington. It was all the way across town, and they definitely wouldn't be able to follow on foot without drawing unnecessary attention. She scrambled for a way to tell them where to find her before it was too late.

And then it hit her. Before they had left the Lexington that morning, she, Flynn, and Capone had sat down to breakfast in his private salon. While the table conversation had been dull at best, it did give her a chance to roam more or less freely around confines the penthouse while Flynn and Capone discussed whatever his compensation was going to be for their generous intervention. Meanwhile, Lucy had found herself exploring Capone's various odds and ends when she came across a notepad of hotel stationary sprawled out across Capone's writing desk in the corner of the room. Without thinking she had snatched a piece of the notepaper, folded it, and stuffed it into her dress pocket before Flynn could notice. The small sheet of paper had The Lexington Hotel written on it in broad, scrawling letters. At the time she figured it couldn't hurt to have a clue to her location on hand should the need arise, and she couldn't have been more right.

As inconspicuously as she could, Lucy hesitantly reached down into her dress pocket, drew out the small piece of paper, and dropped it onto the cement, all while keeping her eyes locked with Wyatt's, who was following her every move.

Reluctant though she could see he was, Lucy briefly relaxed as she watched Wyatt back down, eyeing the discarded paper intently. He seemed to understand the danger of the situation as he swiftly drew Rufus to the side, the pair opting to conceal themselves from Flynn's view behind a parked car.

Meanwhile, Flynn seemed to be completely oblivious to the entire exchange, far too focused on simply navigating the crowd and reaching the car to notice Lucy's strange behavior. By the time they finally reached the curb, Al Capone was already comfortably situated in the compartment, beckoning for them to join him. With one last glance over her shoulder at her two teammates, Lucy allowed Flynn to assist her inside, settling into the cushy leather seats as she tried to tamp down her raging nerves.

"So, about that favor." Capone began as Flynn seated himself beside her and the car rumbled to life, pulling out into the street.

It seemed Flynn had held up his end of the deal, so to speak, and now Capone was ready to deliver whatever fee the two had agreed upon. There was no telling what Capone could possibly have promised him, but she had a feeling it was more likely to be a who rather than a what. Lucy swallowed her fear, gazing out the window at as the cityscape of industrial Chicago passed her by and she wondered who was next on Flynn's hit list, and if she would be able to stop him.

She could only hope that Wyatt and Rufus would get her message.