Watching the night together, I cannot understand what you murmer, singing sweetly, softly, to yourself, in French. O, Lady, you are learned, In your hands as they touch me, in lips that sing obscurely, in secret, in private songs.

Kenneth Rexroth

Recovery from his wounds moved along rapidly. As long as he took his medication and didn't do anything too crazy the pain was manageable and quickly fading. For the first time since, probably Hollywoodland, he felt a flicker of something like hope. Part of it was Lucy. She was hovering like a mother hen, driving him crazy with her constant demands to stop doing anything and nagging. But it meant she cared. It meant that she cared enough to bother. And he might complain and call her a "bossy know it all" but he knew that he loved his "bossy know it all".

She'd left him with tantalizing possibilities. Her words back when he was shot came back loud and clear. "I'm not losing another person I love." Of course, she'd been talking about Rufus and her mother and Amy but the fact that she'd even included him in that category meant something. Later she had told him she'd say something someday and asked for time. Time, one thing they seemingly controlled but which ultimately controlled them. It might be an uncertain hope but it was one worth pursuing. Somehow he'd figured out that if one person was worth all the patience in the world it was Lucy Preston. Patience had never been a strong point with him, at least when it came to relationships, but he'd nearly destroyed everything which his hot-headed ways.

The truth was that the hope had more to do with therapy than anything else. As difficult a truth to admit he wasn't exactly sane. He was broken and scarred beyond repair. No one promised happiness. No one promised anything so unreliable. The only thing they promised was perhaps he'd learn to deal with things without hurting himself or others.

The first sessions were, to put it mildly, tough. He'd been assigned therapy before and he'd spent the whole time sullenly not talking or bull shitting the therapist into thinking he'd made progress. Michelle wasn't the type to be deceived. All she had to do was look at him with that "I know what you're trying to do" and he'd start backtracking. Maybe part of it was he'd officially hit rock bottom. Michelle didn't take bullshit, wasn't afraid to call him out and couldn't be shocked. At first, he told himself that he only went to sessions because he couldn't be rude to her but after a while, he admitted that she was the one person he could talk to that he wasn't afraid of.

Seeing Lucy in action in the mission to save H. G. Wells was incredible. He hadn't ever seen her like that. He'd been frantic that the man would kill Lucy before he could get a clear shot. But Lucy had kept her head and taken each advantage she'd been given. Wyatt realized that the awkward historian had disappeared. In her place was a soldier, battle weary and exhausted but able to stand there and fight with the best of them. Perhaps she wasn't quite as strong as he was or as experienced but with time she'd get there. Unfortunately, he feared she'd also carry the scars of war. The scares he'd tried vainly to protect her from. Seeing the look of guilt and pain on her face as she realized what she'd done wasn't something he'd ever get used to. Lucy and Rufus had helped remake his conscious. He'd never forget how Rufus had forced him to question whether following orders was always right. It had been Rufus who had first made him question his own privilege.

Seeing Lucy request a milkshake had given him more hope than ever. Lucy hadn't ever requested anything from him. Even when she hurt her wrist he'd simply tried to guess what she wanted. The fact that she trusted him with her secret and with her own wishes made him smile. He pulled her battered body into his arms and felt her relax. He couldn't heal her wounds or sadness. But somehow he could do what she'd done for him back in the Alamo.

Making a milkshake when the only blender was something that looked suspiciously like a model from the 1950's was difficult. He ended up using a fork for the rest. Good thing he had strong arms. Flynn walked into the kitchen when he finished and looked surprised. "I didn't know you liked strawberries."

"This is for Lucy. Her throat is sore." Wyatt didn't know why he had to defensively explain this. He always felt that way with Flynn. Defensive.

"Of course. She must have told you how much those milkshakes meant to her." Wyatt ground his teeth to stay silent and not say something smart like normal. Getting into a fight over Lucy with Flynn was over. Lucy had the right to do what she wanted.

"Yes, it's about Amy," Wyatt answered. Who you erased from history. Of course, Flynn knew about this from the journal.

Jiya ran away the minute he came in. She looked exhausted and sad and not for the first time he wished there was something they could do to bring Rufus back. Now. Not when they someday, possibly, figured out the way to travel back on their timeline. He gave her space though. She just needed to be alone. He handed Lucy the milkshake and watched her sleepily sip it. When she finished he gave her the pain relievers knowing in a few hours she'd need them. He'd learned from experience to take them before the pain really hit.

The sound of screaming woke him up. He picked up his gun lying next to the bed and went sprinting into the hall to locate the direction of the sound. Lucy. He recognized the sound of her voice. He tapped on her door but there was no answer. He then opened it and found her alone, thrashing around and crying. A nightmare. He laid the gun down on her dresser and knelt beside the bed. "Lucy, it's all right. It's just a dream."

He kept his voice calm and quiet as he carefully placed his hands on her shoulders and gently began to run them down her arms. It took a few minutes but she eventually opened her eyes. "Wyatt, what…I dreamed I killed everyone in the bunker. I didn't…real or not real?"

"Not real. Never." He reached out and drew her close. She trembled for a few minutes her face buried in his shoulder. "It was just a dream."

"It felt so real." She said.

"I know. They always do." He held her a few minutes longer relishing the soft way she felt in his arms. He hadn't been able to touch her so consistently since 41' and it felt like an absolute feast to the senses to know she was here, close by, and trusting enough to cling to him.

"Do you want something? Tea?" He questioned. She only shook her head, those mournful dark eyes barely visible in the faint light radiating from the hall. Softly he brushed the hair back from her face and said, "Then, uh…goodnight."

He'd barely made it to the door when she cleared her throat and said uncertainly, "Would you…um…stay with me…just until I fall asleep?"

Wyatt whirled around to look at her. She was sitting up in bed but her face looked pinched and drawn with exhaustion. He knew why she was asking this. She wanted someone, someone who understood the nightmares, to be there until she fell asleep. "Sure thing, ma'am."

The bed wasn't designed for two people. It was 1934 all over again as he crawled in beside her. He'd expected her to try to stay on her side as she had in 34 but she immediately snuggled up against him, her head resting against his shoulder. So that was the way it was going to be? In the inky darkness of the bunker room, there was no pretense. It was the first time they'd done anything close to sharing a bed since 1941 and even though the circumstances were so different they're been a time not so long ago Wyatt thought she'd barely speak to him much less trust him enough to fall asleep in his arms. Her hair smelled like strawberries and felt incredibly soft as he ran his fingers through it. It was an unconscious habit but it seemed to relax her. She took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths the lingering effects of her nightmare evident in the tremor. "Just go to sleep, Luce. I'm not leaving."

He could tell when her breathing evened out enough to know she was asleep. He couldn't possibly get out without her waking up. She was pressed too close. His own eyes were heavy as he told himself he was waiting for her to be sleeping deeply enough to leave without waking her. But within minutes he too was asleep.

Wyatt was used to waking up early. In the military sleeping in wasn't a thing and he'd become accustomed to waking up when the sun rose. Working on the team had messed up all their sleep schedules since they'd frequently get woken up in the middle of the night to jump. This morning his mind fought waking up. He blinked, unaccustomed to the warmth surrounding him. Memories flashed through his head. Lucy, her nightmare…he wasn't in his room. He was in Lucy's room…in her bed. The second he realized exactly where he was he opened his eyes. Lucy was half sprawled on top of him, her hair falling into his face and her face turned away. She was dead to the world. Lucy, fortunately, didn't weigh a whole lot or he'd be having trouble breathing. As it was he was having trouble breathing but for an entirely different reason. She was way too close, a beguiling, tempting, disheveled vision and it took everything to maintain control. When she woke up he couldn't possibly embarrass himself or her by acting weird about it. She hadn't asked him to stay for any other reason than her nightmares. She'd probably be even more disgusted and angry if she thought he was taking advantage of her sleeping state to ogle her.

Carefully he placed her on her own side of the bed and stood up. She protested softly a being moved, a tiny little grunt escaping her lips that was both cute and way too sexy. She definitely wasn't making this not embarrassing himself thing much easier. Then her eyes flew open. She sat up abruptly but she didn't freak out. She simply stood looking at him for an instant.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked. It was literally the only thing he could think of and it was stupid but he was distracted by the way she looked with her hair curled around her face and that soft open look in her eyes.

"Yeah, no nightmares after…that one." She said. "How bout you?"

"Good." He said. Wonderful, never better. She smiled and stretched and it was another crazy effort to not stare at her as she did so. She was honestly just so…cute. Lucy was often sexy, always pretty but sometimes she just looked cute in this messy way that few people ever saw her like. It was hard to remember this adorable person was also the one who'd taken down two Rittenhouse agents.

"Just give me a couple of minutes and I'll be ready," Lucy said.

"Ready?" He repeated a little weakly.

"You forgot about training?" Lucy said with a triumphant smile.

"No," he said. But he had of course. And seeing Lucy in her workout clothes wouldn't help matters. She was distracting as hell normally but somehow seeing her in action was always incredibly tempting. He didn't understand exactly why he found the idea that she could probably beat the hell out of him if she wanted to and if he didn't fight back, hot. "I just thought you'd take a rest with your ankle."

"It's better. Besides I can do upper body, right?" Lucy mimicked his trainer tones perfectly.

"Yeah, I'll give you…a couple of minutes and then meet you there."

"It's a date," Lucy said and then hesitated and blushed nervously, biting her lip and averting her gaze.

"Yeah," He glanced down the hall to find it deserted. It took seconds to slip inside of his room. Unlike Lucy, he was far better at escaping undetected. Or perhaps she'd not really cared if he saw.

He had to give her credit. Lucy was absolutely killing it. Despite her obvious soreness, she didn't hesitate even though she favored her injured ankle. He was still in a daze induced by the sensory overload of Lucy Preston but she seemed completely unfazed. Once, a long time ago, she'd have blushed and gotten flustered when he reached over to adjust her limbs or stood right behind her speaking into her ear. It was a horrible temptation not to kiss her neck; right on that sensitive spot below her ear, he knew drove her crazy. He had a thing for her neck and she certainly hadn't been complaining.

"You did great." He saw her face light up with pride as she cooled down.

"I can't believe it." She replied modestly.

"I'm thinking you should practice with some other people. Learn their fighting styles." He went on. "Jiya, of course. Flynn and maybe Agent Christopher."

Lucy's eyebrows rose as he said Flynn. But Wyatt knew he was the only other person in the bunker who had real experience fighting with the exception of Jiya and even Jiya was nowhere near as experienced as Flynn. Wyatt had fought with him himself. They were pretty evenly matched and Lucy would benefit from the additional training from a different perspective. Jealousy had gotten him into this whole mess. Lucy wasn't his to worry about. She wasn't his to spend all this time obsessing about another man touching her. He didn't have the right.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Lucy replied.

They were making progress on the formula for traveling back on their own timeline. And Lucy was making progress on her piloting lessons. Jiya promised that soon Lucy could take a turn in the piloting seat provided Jiya was there for backup. "You know, Wyatt?"

"Yeah," he replied looking up at Jiya.

She sat down on one of the Lifeboat seats and said, "This isn't about your abilities. You're fully as capable as Lucy of piloting. But you won't apply yourself. And I know why. You feel guilty. Like you're replacing Rufus."

Wyatt winced at Jiya's perception. He'd not even been aware of it. Then again everyone seemed to be figuring him out before he did. He just shrugged.

"I'm going to teach you to repair this thing. Keep the Lifeboat in tiptop shape. Every pilot needs that." Jiya smiled at him. "I expect it to be in perfect order. I'm not letting you off the hook."

"Ok, Captain. Told you I was too dense for that piloting stuff." It was a relief really. He hopefully wouldn't have any more dreams of Rufus telling him how he'd replaced him. Forgotten him. Scratch that. He still would. But maybe they wouldn't be as bad.

The days passed. They jumped again but this time it wasn't as bloody as 1895. Wyatt was just turning off the lights when he heard a soft tapping on his door. He opened it surprised to find Lucy standing on the other side. "I just…. I had another nightmare."

"Come in." He motioned her inside and she immediately made a beeline for his bed. She didn't even ask permission. Just sat down and stared at the wall for several minutes. He sat down beside her and placed his hands on her shoulder. "It's ok, Lucy. You can tell me."

"Does it ever go away?" She asked. A tear slid down her cheek. Then another. Finally, she was sobbing uncontrollably. He reached out and drew her close. She clung to him as he tried thinking of what to say. Should he tell her the truth? That no, it didn't get easier. That in their line of work easy wasn't in their vocabulary. She knew that though. It was more a rhetorical question. It was a question of whether she'd ever get to the point where she ceased to care.

"No, not really. But maybe it doesn't seem quite as hard. But I'm not the person you should ask." He definitely wasn't a poster child for having his life together. He'd seen some improvement since he'd gotten therapy. Michelle was a genius. But Michelle never promised to fix him and he didn't think that was possible anyway.

"I just…I think about those people I killed. I know they were Rittenhouse, but they probably had families." Lucy looked up. "I think about that guy in 1918 the most. I saw the light die out of his eyes. And he was so scared. I killed this good man because I wanted to complete the mission. I realized then, I was no better than Flynn. I know the man was going to be killed by Emma anyway but I did it. I killed him."

"At least you didn't kill a good man for selfish reasons. I mean you did it for the mission. To eradicate Rittenhouse." Wyatt swallowed hard as he remembered the man he'd killed as a result of 1983. Although now that Jessica was alive and he'd not even gone on that mission that man was probably alive. That meant Bam Bam was alive too. Wyatt hadn't even considered it. It didn't excuse the guilt that filtered through him.

"We're all a piece of work," Lucy commented.

"Come on." Wyatt pulled her down until she was lying down. "You need your sleep."

"Can I stay?" Lucy whispered.

"As long as you want." He said softly.

Lucy made it a habit of crawling into his bed every time she had a nightmare. Sometimes it was once a week. Other times it was nearly every night. She stopped talking about her nightmares or asking permission. She didn't even knock. She'd just open his door and slip in beside him, knowing he'd welcome her. He'd never slept better. She reminded him of hope and tenderness and love and all those things he'd nearly destroyed. Wrapped in her arms he could almost imagine he was whole again. That he hadn't hurt her so badly or made so many terrible errors.

He learned more about her in those midnight hours than he'd known before. He learned she tossed and turned and woke up crying when she remembered Amy was gone, Rufus was dead and her mother had betrayed her. During the day she kept her emotions in check, never letting herself break down but at night she'd crumble just a little. He learned she always slept on the side of the bed away from the wall and kicked when she got a nightmare. She was always cold but kept a window cracked in the middle of the night to let in fresh air. She didn't sleep in soft, lacy nightgowns but in oversized T-shirts and yoga pants.

Wyatt never knew if the other people in the bunker knew anything about Lucy's midnight excursions. No one ever mentioned it to him but he suspected Jiya suspected. She didn't tease him though. Not like Rufus would have. If anyone else found out he was afraid she'd stop coming. It was something hidden, too uncertain to live in the light of day.

Author's Note: I'm attempting NaNoWrMo as well as trying to find a job so I'm crazy busy right now. But I'm gonna keep on updating this story. It is nearly posted though. I'm very happy with how things are working out with it.

I would like to get more into therapy and stuff but if I did this story would be incredibly long. I think that in the circumstance the characters are under complete recovery from the mental scars would be difficult. The trauma is constant. So at this point survival is paramount. The thing is Wyatt is finally getting some help for his issues. And because he genuinely respects Michelle he listens to her. Progress. I think hitting rock bottom forces you to admit you can't do it on your own.

Honestly, the cute Lyatt cuddles and sleeping together (platonically) because of the nightmares seem to be a common theme in fanfics. My other OTP couple Everlark personally also inspired me from the Hunger Games. I think both of them really need each other for comfort and safety. They feel safe together. I think they need this time of healing and growing back together.