With a surge of energy and blast of wind, the LifeBoat finally materialized, landing in the Silo with a deafening clank of metal on concrete. Wyatt sighed in relief. They were back…and hopefully, all was well. No matter what had happened in Salem, Rufus was obviously well enough to pilot them back…that was something. It gave him hope as he stood there waiting for the hatch to open and reveal its occupants. The presence of the team and the time machine in the bunker was not only a balm to Wyatt's troubled heart and mind, it was also his vindication – how could Jessica not believe his claims of altering timelines and ripple effects with solid proof whirring just a few yards away?

As relief at the sight of the LifeBoat settled in his chest, Wyatt felt himself suddenly anxious for another reason. - once more, he was troubled about how Lucy would react to the presence of Jessica in the bunker. He watched with bated breath as the hatch slid open and was overwhelmed by the rush of happiness he felt when it was Lucy who first emerged. She was alive and the small smile she offered him filled him with something that felt a lot like hope.

Hope for what, exactly, he had no idea.

As he made his way up the stairs to her and she straightened, he suddenly realized that something was very wrong. Lucy was pale and clutching her arm which was bleeding freely. Forgetting all else, Wyatt rushed up the stairs towards her only to halt at the sight of the stony expression that slowly spread across her face. The small smile she had offered, the soft expression of her eyes had faded into a stoic mask that almost hid the pain in her eyes as she looked beyond him. Following her line of sight, Wyatt turned in brief confusion until his eyes rested on the awe-stricken face of Jessica.

Dammit.

In those few short moments of concern and anxiety, he had completely forgotten she was even there. His only thought was for Lucy and what had happened to her...and he did;t know quite what to do with that at the moment. Of course he still cared for Lucy. They were still part of a team, after all. They had been best friends. Friends. He hated the thought of reducing their relationship to that platonic word. It hurt him more than he cared to admit, now, in this moment when he wanted nothing more than to take Lucy up in his arms and take care of her. It was his own damn fault for bringing Jessica into this mess…but what could he do? He was married now and Lucy had told him that she was happy for him, that this was a good thing. Why then, did he feel that whatever this thing was, it was very, very wrong?

Lucy needed him…he had promised her that she hadn't lost him and he was determined to make good on that promise...until Garcia Flynn stepped out of the LifeBoat and took Lucy by the elbow. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the man who had tried to murder them all countless times the year before. The man whom Wyatt could never be brought to fully trust. He towered over Lucy, who seemed so small and delicate beside him, and with a knowing eye he cast his gaze from Lucy to Jessica and then back once more to the ashen faced historian. Tucking his hand under her uninjured arm, Flynn assisted Lucy down the stairs. Wyatt wanted nothing more than to express how sorry he was for putting her in what he realized was a terribly awkward situation, but she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, Garcia Flynn stared Wyatt down as he slowly backed his way off the staircase to let them pass. On level ground now, Wyatt stood aside as Flynn continued to sneer at him, leading Lucy away…away from him, away from Jessica…away from the emotional pain he had just inflicted with the presence of his not so dearly departed wife.

Wyatt stood stock still staring after Flynn leading Lucy away from him. Flynn. The psychopath – the man who had murdered Lincoln, the man who had left them stranded in 1754, the man who had kidnapped Lucy was now giving her the assistance and comfort that Wyatt so desperately wanted to offer…and should have been in the position to offer…

If not for Jessica.

Wyatt felt his jaw clench and balled up his fists. He hated Garcia Flynn. He hated him even more as he watched him play the hero to Lucy's damsel in distress. He was all concern and attention, ordering Agent Christopher to get her some medical attention, asking Mason to get Lucy some brandy, setting Lucy down on a cushioned chair to rest until she could be looked after. What the hell happened in Salem? How did Lucy even get hurt? Wyatt inwardly cursed Flynn for being so careless with her. Never, in the entire time they went on missions together, did Lucy ever get hurt under Wyatt's watchful eye. True, Flynn did kidnap her in 1780, but she had managed to outsmart the bastard and ended up saving their asses from H.H. Holmes' cellar of death.

Now here she was, injured, for the first time and Wyatt hadn't been there to protect her. He hadn't been there to know what the hell she had gone through. He tore his eyes away from the infuriating sight of Garcia Flynn soothing Lucy as Agent Christopher examined her wound, and glanced over to a shaken Rufus.

"Hey, man what happened?" Wyatt asked with grave concern.

Rufus stared back at him scathingly, "Where the hell were you Wyatt? We could've really used you on this trip, ya know?" He glanced over at Jessica who was staring at the time machine in wonder, "Look, I know you've had your own thing" he said motioning towards Jessica, "but dammit Wyatt, we could've died."

Wyatt flinched, "Flynn was that bad, huh?"

Rufus shrugged, "Well, he shot like a bat out of hell the minute those damn Puritans arrested me and Lucy." Wyatt gaped at him as Rufus continued, "But turns out he was just trying to find a musket…I kinda regret not letting him have a gun on this trip if I'm being totally honest."

Wyatt huffed impatiently, "Rufus, what the hell happened?"

"Well, long story short, the 1600s suck. Lucy's mother showed up and tried to have us hanged. She accused Lucy of witchcraft…

"Wait…what? Lucy's mother accused her of witchcraft?"

"Sure did," Rufus retorted. "I got chained up to a racist Pilgrim, Lucy spent most of the day in jail…"

"You're telling me that her mother tried to have her hanged?" Wyatt asked in a voice of shocked disbelief.

"Um…us hanged, Wyatt…pay attention." Rufus shook his head in frustration, "Yeah, she came to see her in jail apparently…spouting off some bullshit excuse, asking her to come back to Rittenhouse." Wyatt's eyes narrowed at the thought of Carol Preston essentially backing her own daughter into a corner; having her choose between life and death. "To be honest," Rufus said with a sigh, "I really thought we were done for this time. Flynn was nowhere to be seen, Lucy had a mangy little knife her mother slipped her so she could escape with her on the Mothership, but other than that, we were essentially screwed. We were headed to the gallows when Flynn showed up with that musket." Rufus let out a small chuckle, "I never thought I'd be so happy to see Flynn with a gun…he saved our asses."

Wyatt scoffed, "Yeah, but Lucy got hurt."

Rufus gave him an understanding nod, "Yeah, she did…but it could've been worse. I saw the guy come at her with a knife. She was so busy trying to get Abi Franklin to safety she didn't see him."

"Where the hell was Flynn?" Wyatt said with a clenched jaw.

"He was taking care of things," Rufus assured, "Lucy was just in the middle of the fray." Rufus slapped him on the shoulder, "she was kind of badass on this mission, Wyatt. She just went for it and saved a whole lot of people in the process."

Wyatt felt a surge of pride, but it was quickly followed by a heartache. Lucy had never been one to throw herself into the fray. Hell, even when she saved their asses in Chicago, she had done so with the help of Houdini. He had done the double-cross and entrapped Flynn, while she was being guarded. The last time she had thrown herself in harm's way was the Alamo mission, when she had saved him from the brink of self-destruction…and he had saved her, in Paris 1919 when she was ready to sacrifice herself because she thought he was dead. Wyatt clenched his eyes in sorrow at the recollection. He had told her she hadn't lost him…and though he was still here, still near enough to hear her muffled sobs as they cleaned her wound, he might as well have been on the other side of the planet. Flynn standing there watching the proceedings, offering words of soothing comfort stabbed him in the heart with a pang of jealously the likes of which he had never felt before…but he couldn't be angry at Flynn. No, the sonofabitch had saved her life and was now playing the part that he – Wyatt – should have been playing. No. He wasn't angry at Flynn. He was angry at himself.

"You okay?" Rufus asked him with a wary eye as Wyatt stared at Lucy and Flynn.

"I don't know." Wyatt muttered softly. "I don't know anything, anymore."