He wasn't moving.
Lucy crouched down, her face already wet with tears as she gently brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Wyatt's face. Oswald was dead, and Ruby had already escaped past them, probably following after Emma and her goon.
None of that mattered.
There was so much blood, and Wyatt's entire side was stained crimson. Lucy felt her stomach turn, her head spinning as she struggled to focus on Wyatt and the telltale slight rise and fall of his chest as she pressed her palm over his heart, willing it to keep beating. His eyes flickered and she caught a glimpse of that bright blue that had been haunting her for over a week, now. The eyes he'd shared with her girls. He wasn't focusing on anything, his gaze darting all around, and she watched helplessly, unable to move or speak to gain his attention.
"Lucy," Rufus' gentle but firm voice pulled Lucy out of her daze. Her eyes snapped up to meet his as he laid a hand on her shoulder, offering her a small smile. "Hey, he's going to be fine, but we have to move him. Okay?" Lucy nodded, but her movement was stiff. Broken.
Just like him.
Rufus didn't wait for her to move; he simply hauled Wyatt up by one arm, nodding for Lucy to grab his other side so Wyatt wasn't in too much pain. Lucy dove to catch his other arm, swinging it over her shoulder and helping Rufus bear Wyatt's weight.
"Keep pressure," Wyatt mumbled, his head hanging. Lucy quickly tucked herself against his side, her other hand holding his waist as she pressed herself close to him, hugging their bodies together where the bullet had penetrated him.
Together, she and Rufus hobbled back to the Lifeboat, ignoring the questioning looks from the people in the crowds, and pointedly ignoring the commotion surrounding a very famous President and his distraught wife.
Lucy had only buckled herself in a handful of times. Once they'd been tasked with chasing after Emma in lieu of Flynn, Wyatt had taken it upon himself to buckle her in. The movement was fluid, almost automatic; they'd all climb into the Lifeboat and get situated in their seats, and the first thing he did was buckle her in. And, every single time, she felt just a bit safer than before, knowing he had secured her in place and was only a foot away if something went wrong.
It was the same feeling when she'd first started staying at his apartment, after she'd essentially run away from home. That first night, she'd slept on the couch, curled into his pillows like a child clutching a stuffed animal. They'd been watching a movie because Lucy couldn't focus on anything else, and she'd been fast asleep by the halfway point.
They'd only been chasing Emma for a few months at this point, not counting the time she'd spent in the alternate timeline, and she'd already grown so accustomed to having him near. She felt so much safer and protected if she knew he was nearby.
Now, she helped him into his seat and fastened his seatbelt with shaking hands, trying not to look at his face, twisted up in pain. Lucy sat back in her seat and watched him try to lean forward.
"Wyatt, no," she admonished, her trembling voice betraying her as she quickly buckled herself in. He leaned back with a heavy sigh, followed by a soft groan, and she reached out, placing her hand over his knee. "Rufus," she called, worried by the way Wyatt's eyes had suddenly drifted shut and his head had begun to droop to his chest. "Get us home."
The shaking and rattling of the Lifeboat around her seemed even worse than usual without his soft, reassuring smile or teasing smirk. His unresponsiveness coupled with the fact that she had buckled herself in, and not Wyatt, did absolutely nothing to assuage her fears, and she clutched his knee, her fingers digging into his thigh, as she fought back the wave of terror that had stopped bothering her a long time ago.
As soon as the Lifeboat was back in 2017, Lucy wasted absolutely no time, bolting from her seat and out the door as soon as Rufus had opened it.
"Wyatt needs a doctor, now!"
Both Agent Christopher and Mason stood at attention immediately, rushing to the Lifeboat, calling out names of people she used to remember. Nothing else mattered, though.
Lucy felt an odd sense of deja vu as they pulled Wyatt out of the Lifeboat and loaded him onto a stretcher, wheeling him off to the infirmary. She found herself standing outside of the double doors once again before she could even tell she'd started following the doctors.
Rufus stopped beside her, and she could hear his heavy breathing beside her as she stood, staring at the stark white doors, praying with all she had that he would be alright.
"He was talking for some of the trip," Rufus tried to assure her as they both slid down the wall, watching the doors carefully. "I don't think it was nearly as bad as it seemed. Wyatt's a fighter."
Lucy nodded, only half listening to him. Her mind was swimming with alternate scenarios that could very well happen: Wyatt not surviving, Wyatt being too injured to travel again, Wyatt somehow having amnesia and not remembering anything at all.
That last one was a bit far-fetched, she admitted.
She decided that if he was decommissioned yet again, she would be as well. She wasn't risking losing him again, not after she'd finally confessed everything. She was selfish, and she knew other people needed Wyatt to live for multiple reasons, but she needed him to live simply because she needed him.
Six months ago, she wouldn't have thought she'd ever need someone as much as she needed him, needed him by her side, needed him teasing her or rolling his eyes when she went on historical tangents or pouring her a glass of wine the second they got home after a rough mission. She needed him sitting next to her on the couch, his arm thrown over her shoulders, trying yet again to explain the world of Star Wars to her.
"Ma'am," a voice stirred her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see the same doctor from earlier, smiling softly down at her. She studiously resisted the urge to admonish him for referring to her as such. "Master Sergeant Logan is absolutely fine. He just needs a day of rest and to take it easy, but he should be cleared to return to work as early as tomorrow." Lucy nodded, smiling softly, a huge weight lifting off of her chest.
"Can I see him?" she asked, surprised to hear how small her voice sounded. Before she could think too much on that, the doctor had nodded, and she was already on her feet and pushing her way through the doors and down the hall, completely on auto-pilot up until the moment she stopped in front of his door.
Wyatt was sitting up in bed, his chest wrapped in a white bandage, bruises and cuts marring his body, but looked healthy otherwise.
He was alive.
Lucy pushed through the door, not even waiting for him to notice her before she climbed up into the hospital-style bed with him.
"Hey," he whispered, startled as she tucked herself against his side, leaning her head in the crook of his neck. He tilted his head so that it rested on hers. "I'm okay, Luce, see?" He pulled away to look her in the eyes, smirking. "It's just a flesh wound."
"You're not funny," Lucy mumbled into his shoulder, trying to hide her giggle. He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "I almost lost you," she whispered, the severity of the situation crashing down on her as she realized how close she'd come to losing him twice in just a matter of weeks. Three times, if she counted Alternate Wyatt, whom she had lost.
"You didn't, though," he reminded her, his voice soft. "I told you, Lucy, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me." She shook her head, scoffing.
"I don't think of it as being stuck," she murmured, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry you got hurt because of me." Wyatt frowned, tilting his head at her.
"What makes you think it was because of you?" he asked, leaning closer. "I got hurt because Jack Ruby shot me. I don't see what that has to do with you." Wyatt smiled softly. "I know you're important and everything, Luce, but I don't think this is about you, this time," he teased her. She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. He maneuvered his arm out from underneath her to wrap around her body, pulling her closer to his side.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, thoughts racing through Lucy's mind, reminding her that she'd almost lost him. And, as much as he tried to play it off, it was her fault. Everything was her fault. If Emma had succeeded… she shuddered at the thought, and Wyatt tightened his arm around her.
"Alright, what are you thinking about?" he whispered, trying not to startle her too much. She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "Is it about what Emma said?" he guessed, and she snapped her eyes up to meet his.
How is it that he knew her so well?
"What if she's right?" Lucy worried aloud, her eyes locked on Wyatt's. "What if my future is inevitable? What if there really is no chance of me escaping it?" Wyatt frowned, and she took a deep breath. "In the other timeline, she told me that Rittenhouse had big plans for not only me, but my children. She was adamant that I change it back to the original timeline, or she'd kill you. I knew if she'd found out about you, it was only a matter of time before she found out about the girls, so I ran back to," she paused, not sure what to call Alternate Wyatt now.
"Other me?" Wyatt offered, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Lucy smiled, nodding. "Did Emma ever tell you what those plans were?" Lucy shook her head.
"No, just that I needed to be with Noah, not you," she murmured. Wyatt nodded thoughtfully and she could see the gears turning, see him mapping out every single possibility, every scenario that could occur.
She lay there, wrapped around him, watching him think. Tentatively, she lay her palm over his chest, feeling for his heartbeat to anchor her. He gently laid his hand over hers, holding it against his chest.
"We were married?" he whispered, so soft she almost missed it. Lucy looked up at him to find him gazing at her, and the look in his eyes made her heart ache; it was the exact same way he'd looked at her in another timeline. She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. He floundered for words, and she waited patiently as he worked through what he wanted to say. "Was I a good father?" he eventually choked out, his eyes dropping.
"Of course," Lucy answered immediately, frowning. How could he think he wasn't? "Wyatt, you loved them so much. You were an amazing father." He nodded, still not looking at her, his brow furrowed.
"Amelia and Layla," he whispered, trying the names out. Lucy's breath caught in her throat as she heard her daughters' names on his lips. "How old were they?"
"Amelia was seven and Layla was five," Lucy replied breathlessly. Wyatt's eyes did meet hers then, wide and confused. "We were married for eight years."
"How did that happen?" he asked, frowning deeper.
"We met at Stanford. I don't know why you were there, but you were in my mother's history class. You were drunkenly calling me 'ma'am'," Lucy grumbled, and he smirked. "When I told you to stop, we started talking and I started tutoring you." Wyatt burst out laughing, making Lucy jump a little in his arms.
"You were my tutor?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "Are you sure this wasn't some dream world of yours? This sounds way too cliche to be anyone's real life," he teased her. She gently poked him in the side that wasn't hurt, smirking.
"I said the same thing, actually," she confessed. "About how cliche it all was, anyway. The only dreams I ever had while I was there were of you, though."
Everything was still for a moment as Lucy realized what she'd just said. Wyatt tilted his head in wonder at her, his brow furrowed again, and she chanced a glance up at him.
"You dreamt of me?" he whispered, and she nodded, taking a deep breath.
"As much as I loved him and the girls," she began, looking up at him. "I missed you." Wyatt nodded, processing, and the arm wrapped around her tightened just a bit as his fingers interlocked with hers pressed against his chest. He sighed, looking at her.
"I'm not him, Lucy, and I wish I could be," he breathed. "But, I've got years of baggage, and I'm completely messed up. I can't be the guy you want me to be." Lucy shook her head, moving her hand from his chest to rest on his cheek. He closed his eyes at the touch.
"You already are," she murmured. He opened his eyes, and she saw it: that love she'd seen every single day for two months whenever she looked into her husband's eyes. It was staring back at her right now.
Exhaustion overpowered her and she let out a soft yawn, snuggling further into Wyatt's arms. He chuckled, kissing the top of her head as he held her close.
"Get some sleep, Luce," he whispered into her hair. She nodded blearily against his chest.
"You, too," she ordered as her eyes slipped shut, lulled to sleep by the steady drum of his heart beating against her cheek.
He was alive. He was safe.
He wasn't going anywhere.
Wyatt was the first one to wake the next morning, turning slightly to watch Lucy sleep. Her eyelids fluttered and he wondered what she was dreaming about, if she was still being plagued with memories of a life she'd never really lived.
A life she'd never lived with him, her husband for eight years, and their two daughters. The more he thought about it, though, the more it made sense. He'd told Lucy as much when she'd been sent off without him the first time: he was always meant to find her. So, of course, in an alternate timeline where he hadn't met Jessica, he'd fallen in love with Lucy first. Of course they'd gotten that head start and settled down straight out of college, starting a family together. Of course they'd both been chosen to time-travel, maybe even more so there since they were married; married teams usually worked very well together, depending on the strength of the marriage. His and Lucy's marriage would have been one of the strongest, he figured.
Wyatt hadn't been lying when he'd said he was open to possibilities all those months ago, hadn't been dangling false hope in front of Lucy. It had been Lucy, ultimately, that had decided it wouldn't happen between them just yet; after everything that happened with her mother, she threw herself into their work, focusing on saving history.
The team grew stronger during those months, and Lucy had essentially moved in with him, but nothing romantic had happened apart from him growing bolder after each mission became more and more dangerous. He'd lost count of how many times he'd almost lost her at this point. He'd pulled her out of a casket in the early 1900s and immediately pressed his lips to her hair, just thankful she was alright. She was too terrified to react, he knew, from the stress of not only being nearly buried alive, but in a confined space to boot. That hadn't helped her claustrophobia, and that was the first night they'd spent in his room, with her curled against his side, still in shock, shaking with fear, and he'd held her tight.
There was always the possibility that he could return home one day and his wife could be waiting for him, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about what that might mean for him and Lucy. He looked down at her again, her face so peaceful in sleep.
He loved her. That much, he knew.
Secretly, he hoped that if he ever did return to a timeline where Jess had survived, they'd be completely different people. Looking back now, all he felt was guilt for losing her, but not love. They'd fought more often than not, and even then he'd known that wasn't how it should have been.
He should have let her go when he had the chance. Maybe he could have saved her.
Lucy began to stir, and he quickly adjusted his grip, smiling softly as he watched her yawn, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him. He sighed, completely content with waking up to this.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teased, nodding at her hair as he always did in the mornings. She rolled her eyes, pressing her face back into his chest, mumbling something under her breath that sounded like 'every timeline'.
Lucy eventually sat up, after a few minutes of waking up slowly, and tucked her hair behind her ears as she cuddled close to Wyatt. She rested her head on his shoulder, entwining her fingers with his.
"How's your side?" she asked, gesturing to the bandage that had slipped a little lower in the night. He shrugged, glancing at it.
"Forgot it was there, to be honest," he admitted sheepishly. "Did the doctors say when we could go back on missions again?" Lucy nodded, biting her lip.
"Well, he said that as long as you got rest, you could probably go as early as today," she replied quietly. "But, I really think you should take it easy for another day." Wyatt shook his head, but she held a hand up. "Hear me out. You've only just gotten better from your first injury, and now there's this one. You're weak, and you and I both know you'll already be looking over your shoulder worrying about what Emma's doing and you're not in your best shape to be protecting us." She nodded firmly, signaling she was done, and Wyatt tilted his head at her.
"What are you and Rufus going to do without me, though?" he asked, his eyebrow raised. Lucy shook her head, turning into his arms again, her head falling into the crook of his neck as she buried herself deeper in his hold.
"I'm not going," she mumbled into his neck, and he resisted the urge to shiver as her breath washed over his skin. "I'm not leaving you again." He turned to kiss her forehead, leaving his lips pressed against her skin for a moment, putting all the comfort he could offer into that one kiss.
"Lucy, I know you're afraid," he whispered, resting his chin on top of her head as she pulled herself closer to him. "But, you can't let Rufus go on his own. You need to help him keep a low profile wherever Emma ends up going. And, I know you're worried about me, but I'm not letting you go anywhere without me, either." He tilted her chin up, pulling away to look at her. "We go together, no matter what." Lucy nodded, her gaze trained on him carefully. "You might have to help me a bit, though," he muttered and she smiled softly.
"Of course, Wyatt," she promised, tucking her head back into his neck, sighing against him as she tightened her arms around his middle. He held her tight, rubbing her arm up and down as they just lay there in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Lucy hadn't realized she'd fallen back asleep until the scent of cinnamon rolls woke her hours later. She stirred in Wyatt's arms, her eyes opening immediately as he thanked whoever had just delivered them, pulling the tray table over them and placing two cinnamon rolls on a plate.
"Morning," he chuckled, watching her sit up immediately, her eyes bright at the sight in front of her. "I told them to just bring this from now on, especially if you're here." Lucy rested her head on his shoulder for a minute and he kissed her forehead.
"You take such good care of me," she mumbled and he laughed as she grabbed a cinnamon roll off the plate and took a huge bite.
The icing was still warm and gooey and the dough was still soft and hot; it was like eating sugared air instead of an actual cinnamon bun. Lucy was completely lost in the food and didn't realize she was making some obscene noises as she ate until she'd finished it and turned to Wyatt.
His eyes were dark as he watched her, but his gaze was filled with wonder, and she could tell he had a burning question on the tip of his tongue. She blushed, knowing immediately what it was, and quickly pondered whether she should answer it.
"There's something I want to know," Wyatt started, his voice slightly husky, and Lucy clutched the bed sheet to keep herself grounded. She could lose control if he kept talking like that, looking at her like that. "But, I think it might be crossing a line to even ask." Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat, watching him carefully.
"Go ahead," she whispered, urging him on. He sat up a little straighter, leaning closer to her, and her hand was fisted in the sheets now, stopping herself from all but launching herself at him. He was so close she could see the lashes on his eyes as he blinked at her. He gulped.
"In this alternate timeline," he began, and his voice was still low and growly and Lucy didn't know how much longer she could stay away from him. "Did we ever…?" he trailed off, gesturing between the two of them, raising an eyebrow. Lucy nodded, biting her lip and his gaze followed the movement.
Something changed then, his eyes still dark, his voice still husky, but with another layer. His body had shifted, turning closer to hers so they were nearly pressed together, every inch of them touching. His other hand rested on her waist, his thumb slipping underneath her top to brush absently against the smooth skin of her hip. He frowned slightly at her, his gaze darting from her lips to her eyes, and she knew there was one more question he wanted to ask.
"Go ahead," she prompted, her voice soft, a stark contrast to how keyed up she was just from him staring at her and his hand against her skin. She would surely lose control any minute now, so she knew he'd better ask his question soon.
"You said you loved me," he reminded her breathlessly, and she nodded, her eyes softening as she watched him compose his question. "What's it like being in love with two completely different versions of the same person?" She smiled, tilting her head further into the pillow of his shoulder, twisting her mouth up in fake concentration, causing a chuckle to bubble out of him.
"You aren't completely different," she admitted, frowning softly. "And, I think that's why I fell in love with him so easily, why I was so ready to just accept that timeline as my new life. He was so much like you that it would hurt otherwise to think of you. So, I tried to think of him as you." She shook her head, looking up at him. "As much as I loved him, though, he wasn't you, and I didn't realize just how much I missed you until you were in front of me again." Wyatt nodded, taking it all in. Lucy shifted then, moving her hands up to cradle his face, keeping her eyes trained on his. "Wyatt, I loved him because he was so much like you, but I love you more."
And, that's how Rufus found them minutes later when he'd knocked on the door, slowly creeping in. They immediately separated, but Wyatt kept Lucy tucked close to his side as he turned to Rufus, already knowing what happened.
Emma had taken the Mothership out again.
