Having dinner with Lucy…alone…had been the last thing Wyatt thought would happen after the calamitous events of the last few hours. Since having her back, he had managed to beat up her fiancé, ruin her mother's party, humiliate her in front of all of her Stanford colleagues, and accidentally set her up on a "non-date" with Bam Bam. Yet, here they were in the dining room of Sabin's Tavern, enjoying a nourishing meal by candlelight. Granted, the candles were a necessity for the era, but Wyatt surmised, as he gazed at her across the small table, it could still count as romantic.

The soft glow of candlelight amid the quaint and rustic surroundings in which they found themselves only served to add to the feeling that this dinner was much more than just two co-workers sharing a meal together. Lucy, after Wyatt teased that she had asked him on a date, felt all the awkwardness that came when Mr. Sabin greeted the "happy couple" and showed them to a quiet table overlooking the bay. Wyatt immediately took the initiative to speak for her, his wife, as was the rule of thumb for the time, ordering them both something from the bill of fare available. Moments later, tureens of hearty stew and a loaf of homemade bread were placed in front of them as Lucy sat stiffly with a strained smile on her face.

Just as with their charade in front of Bonnie and Clyde, Wyatt played his part…almost to excess. He doted on her, asking repeatedly if she was comfortable, if she was chilly next to the window, if there was anything that she wanted to drink or eat that wasn't already on the table in front of them, and Lucy was, despite her better judgement, enjoying the farce that they were presenting for the patrons of Sabin's Tavern. Though she knew this was "just a role", it felt more natural and easy than any of her dates had been with Noah. She trusted Wyatt, she knew Wyatt and if she allowed herself to venture further into her feelings she could admit that she probably even lov…well, she liked him enough to know that she wouldn't mind if this charade turned into something more tangible. One look at Wyatt's left hand, however, reminded her that she was better served by remembering that this was a role and only a role…and no amount of playing make-believe would make his love for Jessica any less real.

She noted, as he began eating his stew, that though he looked like he was ravenous with hunger, he deliberately took his time…making her wonder just how long it had been since he had enjoyed a full meal. He looked tired and broken and though he seemed to be happier than what he had been when they first arrived in Providence, there was a sadness that seemed to haunt his smile, particularly when he looked at her. Once more she was hit with a pang of guilt for intruding upon the title, the position, of the wife he had loved and lost and…just recently failed to save. How hard it must be for Wyatt, who had come to her just the day before with such high hopes about saving his wife, to be forced into an act of playing the part of doting husband to a woman who was most definitely not Jessica. Every second of this mission, Lucy determined, must increase his disappointment ten-fold. How could he not be reminded of his failure every time he looked at Lucy and pretended?

Wyatt, for his part, was completely unaware of Lucy's reflections. He was far too invested in making sure that this, their first "date" went off without a hitch. He noted as they first sat down that she seemed awkward and stiff and so he did his best to make sure that she was comfortable. He offered her his coat when he thought that perhaps the evening ocean breeze blowing in from the open window was giving her a chill. He proposed they switch places when he thought that maybe she would prefer the view from his side of the table and when they brought out stew and she didn't immediately reach for her spoon, he asked if there was something else she might want to eat.

He found that he was unexpectedly nervous at this, their first dinner out together, though technically, at least on Lucy's end, this was just part of the mission. Here, however, in the 18th century, away from fake fiancés, Bam Bam, and cell phone interruptions, Lucy was his wife again and as much as it hurt him to know that that might never come to fruition in real life, he was grateful she was here…alive…and sitting across from him. His relief at having her with him again, had made him realize how hungry and weak he was after days of having no appetite. He knew from his Delta Force POW training that it was best to not eat too quickly after days of starvation, so he took his time as he ate; in part to keep himself from being sick, but the other to prolong this time he had with Lucy where it was just the two of them. He had missed her, he had missed them…and just having her near him again…alone…was more than he could have ever hoped for in that awful time immediately following her death.

It had been mere hours since he had burned that telegram and reset the timeline, only a few hundred minutes to process the fact that she was really back, that Wyatt had, in fact, saved her. He sat there gazing at her; there was no evidence of injury from her mishap at the Boston Massacre, no longer was there a bruise marring her the skin along her jaw from the Draft Riots, and while she looked a bit pale, no doubt from her recent battle with illness, it was a far cry from the deathly pallor that overtook her features on that rainy night in Johnstown in 1889. She was essentially flawless. Maybe it was because he had been without her for what felt like centuries, maybe he was just that damn grateful that she was a living, breathing being again, but to Wyatt, she was even more beautiful than he had remembered. He wasn't just making some lame attempt at flattery when she stepped into the LifeBoat, the dress she was wearing really did look incredible on her…not that she didn't always look picture perfect in every century, decade, and era they found themselves in. He couldn't help but marvel at the way the pale blue of the dress made her already dark hair seem darker, her eyes more shiny and brilliant and the pink of her lips more pronounced. Her glossy hair was swept up partially with gentle curls gracing her shoulders and Wyatt was so tempted to reach his hand across the table and tangle his fingers in those silken tresses, losing himself in the depth of a kiss that he was sure would communicate to her everything he wanted to say, but had no idea how.

'Wyatt!?" Lucy was doing her best not to laugh at him as he startled to attention, his sleeve completely soaked as he pulled it out of his bowl of stew.

"Dammit" he muttered as he flung open the cloth napkin on his lap and began sopping up the mess on his sleeve.

She pressed her lips together to stifle her laughter, "I don't think I've ever seen you so distracted." she observed. Wyatt shrugged slightly, offering her a forced smile that Lucy noted was doing a poor job of hiding his embarrassment and obvious misery. Remembering what he must be feeling, she offered him a small smile full of pity as she said quietly, "You must really miss her."

Wyatt stilled as her words washed over him. He knew Lucy was referring to Jessica, and yes, he did miss her. Jessica had been his wife once upon a time and he would always miss her, just as he would always love her – that was inevitable. Seeing her alive again for just that short amount of time, however, had been enough to knock him on his ass with the cold, hard truth that he had idealized what they had had out of guilt. He had come to terms with that, had embraced his love for Lucy, but now he had the added knowledge that he had sent her back to her grave so that he could save Lucy from hers. That, of course, would always haunt him…the life that she could have led, the friendship that they would never have…yes, he regretted her loss. However, as he looked at Lucy, her brown eyes full of sadness and compassion, he knew that the woman he was truly missing was sitting right across the table from him.

Words failed him, so he nodded at her, willing her to understand that she was the one who meant the world and more to him, but Lucy ducked her head down in apparent shame and muttered, "I'm sorry about all this…"

Wyatt stared at her blankly, "Yo…you're sorry about what?"

Lucy chuckled, "Oh you know…all of this role playing we have to do. It must be difficult for you since…" She heaved out a sigh, "I just…I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Wyatt frowned, "I'm not uncomfortable." His eyes darted up to hers in a slight panic, "Are…are you…uncomfortable?"

"No." Lucy blurted out with such an abruptness that it caused Wyatt to suspect that she wasn't quite being honest with him. He swallowed hard as she laughed nervously, "I just mean that…I don't want things to be awkward between us."

Wyatt sat up straighter, "I…I don't want that either." He bent his head down and sighed, "Lucy, I really am sorry about what happened earlier tonight at…at Stanford. I didn't mean for things to get out of hand like that."

Lucy closed her eyes and nodded, "I know, but to be fair…it wasn't just you. Noah certainly didn't help the situation…you were obviously upset and he should've just…"

"…just let me put my hands all over you?" Wyatt scoffed as he shook his head. "I was out of line, Lucy…I'm sorry."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not quite sure what to make of Wyatt's apology. What exactly was he sorry about? Hugging her? Causing problems between her and Noah? Fighting? All of it? Did he regret coming to see her at all? Was he wishing he hadn't made her feel like she was the only person on Earth he cared for? She shook her head slightly in an attempt to refocus her thoughts, "I was just so relieved to see you…after stealing the time machine, I mean…I thought for sure that you would…." Lucy bit her lip and leaned forward asking him in a slight whisper, "how did you get away with it?"

Wyatt shrugged sheepishly, "Mason didn't want to press charges." Lucy shot him a dubious glance as Wyatt cleared his throat, "And like you said…Agent Christopher must have a soft spot for me." He shifted uncomfortably and attempted to turn the conversation. "So, you had double pneumonia?"

Lucy let out a small laugh, "You say that like its news. Wyatt, you came to see me in the hospital."

"Right." Wyatt inwardly congratulated himself for not being a complete jackass during her illness. Of course, he would've gone to see her, it was Lucy…and no matter how much he had denied his being in love with her, it wouldn't have prevented him from being there for her when she needed him most. He nodded his head nervously wondering what he had said and done during that time, but Lucy answered it for him.

"I always looked forward to your visits…well, yours and Rufus." she admitted with a shy smile. "You tend to get a little stir crazy when you're confined to a hospital room." Wyatt nodded at her with a smirk, which she obviously interpreted as something else, because her eyes narrowed and she playfully snapped at him, "Do you know how frustrating it was for me when you wouldn't give me any information about your missions? That would have at least given me something to do."

Wyatt smirked at her, remembering how the last time he had spoken to her in this timeline, she was researching their Las Vegas trip despite the fact that she was bedridden at home with a terrible cough and fever. "Yeah, well maybe that's because I know you too well." She tilted her head at him with a curious grin, "Admit it, Lucy. You would've been up all hours reading up on every single event instead of resting."

Her grin broke into a wide smile, "And who's to say I didn't do it anyway?"

Wyatt shook his head at her, "Who did you sucker into giving you the mission reports?"

She shrugged, "Let's just say Agent Christopher and Jiya got tired of my incessant phone calls."

Wyatt laughed…and it felt fantastic. He could picture her sitting, propped up in a hospital bed laptop open, books piled high on the bed table, researching. "And how did we do, Professor?" Wyatt asked with a resigned sigh. He really had no idea. What missions had they gone on without her? What differences were there? Had Rufus still be shot? Did Bam Bam still go out for a celebratory drink? Did they even still go to the Boston Massacre?

Lucy frowned a bit as she said quietly, "You did great…between Wikipedia and Old Man Chartris you didn't need me much anymore."

"That's not true." Wyatt said softly.

Lucy looked up at him doubtfully, "It is true, Wyatt. You didn't need me on any of those missions."

"Lucy, believe me" Wyatt countered seriously, "I absolutely did…and do need you."

Not understanding his full meaning, she shook her head with a frown "I half-wondered if it was a mistake to keep doing this. My mother…Noah…they kept telling me that I was throwing my life away, ruining my career." She looked up at Wyatt with an apologetic smile, "When nothing in the timeline changed and you all managed to save history on every mission…I started thinking that maybe…maybe they were right." She sighed heavily as she gave him a small smile, "But then I remembered what you told me in Germany…that I needed to figure out what I was fighting for…"

"Amy." Wyatt answered with a nod of understanding.

She nodded, "I'm the only one who knows she supposed to exist. So, if I gave up, she would really be lost." She swallowed hard and continued, "...and then when you came to tell me you were going to save Jessica…you were so hopeful, and determined…you weren't worried about the consequences…" she scoffed, "…it would all be worth it to get her back, right?"

Wyatt's face darkened, "Lucy…I didn't…"

She shook her head at him, "It's okay, Wyatt…I understand." She smiled at him weakly, "You don't have to explain." She sighed, "I was upset…but only because I knew things would change…no matter what happened…or at least, I thought they would…at the time" she added with a wry smile. Wyatt stared back at her filled with absolute regret and self-loathing, that he was so damn short-sighted he didn't appreciate the gift that was Lucy Preston. His face twisted in anguish as she continued with a nod, "But that visit was what I needed…really. I knew then, I had to keep fighting…just like you. I couldn't give up on trying to save Amy." She sighed heavily as tears filled her eyes, "I'm so sorry it didn't work, Wyatt…you must have been so devastated. There has to be some way…"

"It did work." Wyatt blurted out before he could stop himself. Lucy looked back at him in startled surprise. "I mean…no…" he sighed in frustration. Why was this so damn hard? "That's not what…Lucy, that trip…"

"It's okay, Wyatt." Lucy said apologetically, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…I just thought that…well, you had come to Stanford so upset…"

Wyatt nodded, "I just…" He clenched his eyes shut as he admitted, "I had to see you."

Lucy furrowed her brow in confusion, "Why?"

He was just beginning to form an attempt at an answer when James Sabin approached their table and asked them how they were enjoying their meal. Wyatt, grateful for the interruption this time, chatted with the innkeeper about the beef stew that reminded him so much of one that his Grandpa Sherwin used to make out of venison.

Noticing Wyatt's soiled sleeve, Mr. Sabin promptly removed Wyatt's bowl and returned moments later with a new one handing him a fresh napkin as he did so. Left alone once more,

Wyatt felt the weight of Lucy's penetrating stare as he attempted to nonchalantly eat his stew. He hadn't answered her question and he could almost hear the gears in her brain working overtime to figure out why the hell he had shown up at her mother's party, unannounced, uninvited and looking at her like the crazy, lovesick fool he knew he was. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table and stared right back. Lucy was currently living in a timeline that wasn't her own. She had come back from the Hindenburg to find her mother well, her sister gone and in her place, a fiancé whom she had never met…and though Agent Christopher had promised her a chance to save her sister, Lucy was still living in a timeline she didn't recognize as her own. Why couldn't he just tell her? If anyone could understand, she would.

Wyatt leaned forward and sighed heavily, "Listen, Lucy…about that trip to save Jessica…"

But before he could finish, a general uproar arose around the tavern that caused both Lucy and Wyatt to turn their attention to the door. A group of men had just entered through the door, talking in hushed but excited voices to James Sabin who began ushering toward a room in the south east corner of the building. Lucy turned to Wyatt with meaningful glance, "That would be Captain Lindsay, John Brown and the others."

Wyatt nodded at her and removed himself from the table in an attempt to gain access to the room. Every effort he made however, was in vain. As an unknown outsider, he was shooed away from the goings on within the back room, assured by James Sabin that it was just a drinking party, "Cards and mischief" were all that was to be found in that room he had said before dismissing him with a jovial, "You have good company in your wife, sir."

Wyatt returned to Lucy with a shrug, but she wasn't discouraged, "Well, we didn't see Flynn with them, which means he's probably not going to get access to that room even if he does show up here." She looked out of the window onto the Main Street and beyond to the wharf, "All they're going to be doing in there is discussing the plan of attack and making bullets. We know what the plan is...that's not the issue. If Flynn has gone out to the Gaspee to warn Dudingston, then we have to somehow get in there to warn them that they might be rowing themselves into a trap."

"How do you propose we do that?" Wyatt asked. "I'm not getting in there…and no offense, but I don't think you're going to have much luck either."

Lucy bit her lip, "What about Rufus? Maybe he can get a message in there for us?"

Wyatt took a look back towards the door, "No way," he shook his head, "the way that innkeeper has that room locked down, there's no way he's letting anyone in there." Wyatt observed the situation for a few moments, watching as James Sabin filled several tankards with ale and placed them carefully on a serving platter. He nudged his jaw towards the room, "See, he's taking a tray in there on his own. If he's looking to protect those people in there, he's not going to take any chances with loose lips."

Lucy frowned, "Well…what are we going to do?"

Wyatt shrugged and gave her a small smirk, "We make it up as we go along. One step at a time, though." He nodded at her seriously, "We need to get Rufus."

Lucy and Wyatt made their way out of the dining room, tentatively searching the main hall for any sign of Garcia Flynn. Once assured that he was not among the patrons, Lucy made her way up the narrow staircase while Wyatt stopped off at the bar and made a request for Rufus to "attend" to them. After scanning the tavern once more, Wyatt followed Lucy's lead and made his way back upstairs to their room.

Lucy was already at the window when Wyatt entered. She was silhouetted against the purple and orange sky of the dusky evening; the effect the golden light had on her features coupled with the backdrop of a slowly setting sun was so stunning that Wyatt found himself a bit breathless as he stood there gazing at her profile. Her attention, while momentarily drawn to him when he entered the room, was quickly turned back to the street where the report of a drum could be heard echoing through the town. Wyatt crossed the room and peered out of the window behind Lucy as he muttered, "What's that?"

"The drum? It's a summons." She whispered, "They're letting everyone in town know without actually telling them that something is happening tonight." Merchants and sailors were scuttling around the quaint seaside town, hurrying up and down the street, busying themselves with the final tasks of the day as the last vestiges of sunlight streaked across an ever-darkening sky. Mid-sized merchant ships and smaller boats bobbed idly in the water, their sails looking almost pink in the dying light of day. The entire scene looked like something out of a Winslow Homer painting. Lucy sighed, "Gosh, it really is a beautiful view, isn't it?"

"Yeah." she heard Wyatt whisper as she sighed and straightened up, backing herself away from the window.

"Do you know this drum, will bring close to 500 people to…" she paused feeling Wyatt's presence close behind her. She turned her head slightly in order to peek over her shoulder at him. Even in the dim light, she could tell that Wyatt wasn't looking out at the street beyond - he was gazing at her with eyes filled with tears that looked as if they would spill out at any moment. She turned fully to face him in confusion and concern, expecting him to step backwards away from her…but he didn't. He remained where he was, looking at her with such emotion that it absolutely took her breath away. "Wyatt…?"

A small gasp escaped him as he was confronted with the full force of her caramel colored eyes, boring into his own for some kind of answer as to why he was standing there, stupidly staring at her. He knew he should back away…give her some space…talk to her, but he found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move and hardly able to breathe. She was so close...and this time there was no fake fiancé standing by watching his every move. Wyatt's eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips as he murmured, "What about those 500 people?"

Lucy swallowed hard as she found herself slowly swaying towards him. Her eyes searched his for an explanation of…well, everything since he had gotten back from his ill-fated trip in the LifeBoat, but what she found there left her even more confused than she already had been. He looked at her with so much sadness...and she thought (hoped) perhaps, longing. She couldn't even begin to think of what that meant as she breathed out an attempt to answer his question in a voice barely above a whisper, "they gather at the wharf in order to volunteer to…um," her voice caught in her throat as Wyatt's hands tentatively went to her waist. She was rooted to the spot, transfixed by the softness in Wyatt's eyes. She could feel his fingers gently working to tug her closer making her completely incapable of coherent thought, as Wyatt leaned in and brushed his nose across her cheek.

It would be so easy to ignore the screaming in her head, telling her that this was a bad idea…but she wanted this. She wanted to lose herself in everything she had been secretly hoping for since 1934. Her eyes fluttered closed as Wyatt's lips barely grazed over hers, sending a thrill of anticipation and pleasure down her spine…when suddenly Rufus burst through the door indignantly, "I'm your damn servant now? What would you like, Masters, since I'm supposed to be "attending" you and all?"

Lucy jumped away from Wyatt as if she were burned, retreating to the far side of the room, her face flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't bear to look at Wyatt after almost losing her head and taking advantage of his obvious torment over the disappointment of losing Jessica. Head down and wringing her hands in mortification, she sought to compose herself in the corner as Wyatt shot Rufus an angry grimace.

He couldn't be mad at Rufus, he had asked him to come up to the room, after all. Instead, he was inwardly cursing himself for getting carried away by his emotions. He hadn't meant to get caught up in the moment like that, but standing that close to Lucy, looking out at the sparkling bay, being together in the dark...it wasn't exactly a recipe for keeping things professional between them, especially when his feelings were still so damn raw. He missed her so much and she had no idea…no idea what he had gone through over the past few days, how much heartache he had endured…hell, she didn't even know how much he loved her. What the hell would she be thinking now? He looked over to where she had withdrawn, almost tucked away into the corner. She might as well had been on a different planet. That slip…that lack of self-control had just succeeded in making things even more awkward and tense between them.

"Hello?" Rufus snapped his fingers, "What do you want, now that you dragged my ass up here? A couple of beers? Some pretzels? You better not be thinking I'm going to be taking care of your chamber pots because if that's it you can kiss my…"

"C'mon Rufus, do you really think we would do that to you?" Wyatt spat out in frustration as Rufus glared at him, unconvinced. "It's not our fault this is the way things are around here." Wyatt reminded him, "Look, I asked for you so we could get you out of there. We need to come up with some sort of plan."

Rufus shrugged, "Alright then, what do we need to do?"

Wringing her hands together and making every effort not to look at Wyatt, Lucy whispered harshly to Rufus, "First things first, you haven't seen Flynn skulking around, have you?"

"No…can't say that I have being that I've been in a room with a dozen or more black folks."

Lucy heaved out a sigh, "Great. That means he's probably already warned Dudingston."

Wyatt sat down on the bed and took of his ruined jacket with a huff, "No way any of us are getting in that room. So how are we going to warn them that Flynn and his band of assholes might be waiting to blow them out of the damn water?"

"Well, if that's Flynn's plan there's not going to be a whole hell of a lot that we can do." Rufus argued, "He's going to be on a big ass boat for one, and two, I imagine he's going to have a cannon at his disposal…now I may not be the soldier here, but something tells me that gives him one hell of an advantage."

Lucy sighed heavily, "There's got to be something that we can do to make sure this still goes off the way it's supposed to." She shook her head as she paced the room, her thoughts battling against her. Part of her brain was attempting to come up with some sort of answer to the very serious problem they were facing with the Gaspee, the other part was reeling from that interrupted moment with Wyatt. What the was that even about? She chanced one quick glance at him as he sat lost in his own thoughts on the bed, the hammering of her heart, matching the beating of the drum outside. "Ugh…I can't think" she muttered furiously, "…stupid drumming."

Wyatt sat up straighter, "You said that drum was like a summons, right?" Lucy nodded, "Well, then we get down there and tell the people that come to volunteer that we heard that someone rowed out to the Gaspee to warn them that an attack was being planned for tonight." He stood up and looked out of the window at the small crowd gathered below, "How many people are on the Gaspee again?

"27…not counting Flynn if he's there." Lucy answered as she crossed the room tentatively and made her way next to him at the window. Wyatt's eyes were focused on the small crowd assembling now at the wharf, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Okay," he murmured after a while, "if Flynn is out there then the element of surprise is gone…he'll be waiting for them. But…what if we could get them to send more boats, all from different points?" He turned to face Lucy who was staring at him intently.

"So," she muttered, "we try to convince all 500 to go…and not just the 64." She bit her lip in thought and smiled at Wyatt who gave her a soft smile back. "I think that might work…"

"Of course, it will work," Rufus exclaimed, "Flynn is going to expect things to happen as is…and hell, it doesn't matter anyway…with more boats he's gonna have a hell of a time keeping them all at bay."

Wyatt nodded, "Okay, Rufus…you and I are going to go down there and try to figure convince as many people as we can to get out on those boats and row towards the Gaspee."

"I'm sorry," argued Lucy, "you and Rufus? What about me?"

Wyatt stared back at Lucy with more than a little apprehension. The last mission that involved water and Flynn had ended with Lucy's death. Granted, this was no flood…but Wyatt didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. Here she was safe. Here, she was protected. Here, Flynn wasn't. Wyatt traded glances with Rufus before approaching Lucy apologetically, "Look, why don't you let us handle this and you stay in the room and…rest?"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you." Lucy said as she rolled her eyes. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

"He hasn't" Rufus offered up truthfully.

Wyatt shot him an annoyed glance before continuing his plea to Lucy, "Look…it's nothing personal…you just got out of the hospital…I just think that you would be in a better position here to check out what's going on from up here…you could be our lookout."

Lucy gave him a withering stare, "What are we 8 and playing in a tree house?"

"No…Lucy it's just that…"

But Lucy was already headed towards the door, turning to him as she wrenched it open, "I can talk to people just as well as you can. Do you know that some of the most vital information about the Revolution was passed to George Washington through women? Anna Smith Strong? Lydia Barrington Darragh? Ring a bell?"

"Um…no…actually." Wyatt said with a shrug to Rufus who looked just as lost as he was.

Lucy colored slightly as she tossed her head back defiantly, "Well, that's precisely why I'm going along…for every woman who was ever been upstaged by a man."

Wyatt looked helplessly at Rufus who shook his head frantically, "Hell no…don't you dare try to get me to argue with her over this. That's all you, man."

Wyatt stared at Lucy in frustration. He wasn't going to win this argument, he knew…but he had to get her to understand that he was trying to do this for her own good. He looked at Rufus, "Can you…give us a minute?"

Rufus glanced at Lucy who was standing with her arms crossed in front of her chest, angrily staring back at Wyatt who was nervously running his hand across the back of his neck. "Okay…it's your funeral." he muttered as he walked over to the window and looked out pretending not to hear.

"What the hell, Wyatt?" Lucy spat out. "You think that just because I haven't been on these missions for a while, I don't remember how things work?"

"No, Lucy it's not that…"

"Because I seem to remember saving your life a few times," she argued passionately, "Chicago, Watergate…the Alamo."

"Jesse James" Rufus muttered unconcernedly from the window.

"Lucy," Wyatt groaned, "please, just hear me out, okay?" She stared daggers at him for a few beats before finally relenting with a nod, her arms still crossed over her chest. Wyatt sank down on the bed, "Look, this isn't about your abilities or even the fact that you're a woman…I will be the first to admit that on every damn mission you haven't been on, we've gotten into trouble." She jutted her chin at him and rolled her eyes, "And yes, Lucy…you've saved our asses more times than I ever expected out of a civilian like you."

"You mean a woman." Lucy gritted out.

"No." Wyatt insisted, "I didn't expect it of Rufus either..." Rufus shot him a look of shocked dismay which Wyatt answered with a shrug. "Both of you have surprised the hell out of me. I never thought that after Delta Force I would be able to put my life in the hands of untrained civilians, but here I am." He took stood up from the bed and made a large step towards her, "And I trust you," he declared firmly as his eyes locked on hers, "but I'm asking you to trust me. Please just…stay here so that I can know you're safe."

Lucy uncrossed her arms and gaped at him, "You just got finished telling me that every mission I haven't been on has led to trouble…and now you want to leave me behind?"

He rubbed the back of his neck again, "You are here, you're on this mission…I just don't want you out there with Flynn, okay? We don't know where the hell he is and if we don't have to take the risk this time, I don't think we should."

"What risk?" Lucy cried out in exasperation. "Have you seen Flynn? All we're doing is going down there and talking to a few people. I'd hardly call that risky."

"Um…guys." Rufus called from the window.

"Not now, Rufus!" they both spat out at him.

"Um…guys!" Rufus called again more insistently.

"Not now, Rufus!" They both gritted out loudly.

"GUYS!" Rufus finally yelled as Wyatt and Lucy both rolled their eyes at him.

"What?" The both said together in a resigned sigh.

"The British are coming."

"Wh…wait, what?" Lucy asked as she stood there gaping at him.

"I mean the actual British…the Redcoats, the King's men…whatever the hell you want to call them…they're here." Rufus explained frantically.

Wyatt quickly crossed over to the window. Sure enough there was a band of about 30 soldiers making their way down the street towards the wharf Lucy was soon at Wyatt's elbow, peering out into the dark street. "I'm guessing this wasn't supposed to happen?" Wyatt asked her seriously.

"No…Flynn must have sent out an alert. What are we going to do now?"

Rufus sighed, "Well, if Flynn told them what was going on and who to look for, I'd say that little secret meeting isn't going to be secret for long."

"We need to get down there and warn them before those soldiers get in here." Wyatt said urgently as he made his way to the door.

Lucy made to follow, but Wyatt stopped her, "Please, Lucy…no...just…just stay here, okay?"

"Wyatt," she hissed angrily with a flash of defiance in her eyes, "I am a grown woman…I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions in regards to my safety and what risks I am willing to take." Wyatt kept trying to argue with her, but she spoke over him, "You don't get to decide that for me."

"Lucy, dammit, listen to me!" Wyatt exclaimed passionately, "I am not about to risk losing you again."

She stared back at him in marked confusion as Rufus harshly whispered, "If you want to do this thing, we need to go like now."

Wyatt turned to her with pleading eyes, "Look, if those soldiers bust in here and catch Rufus and I tipping off those raiders we're gonna need somebody to help us get out of here, okay?

"But…" Lucy tried to argue.

"Please, Lucy, I'm begging you." Wyatt pleaded softly, "Just stay here."

Still confused by Wyatt's outburst, but absolutely arrested by the desperation in his face, Lucy nodded slowly as he and Rufus slipped out of the room, securing the door behind them. She returned to the window in a huff and plopped down, watching the approach of a unit of soldiers with growing apprehension. They were nearer now and any moment they would be entering the tavern.

Lucy bit her lip and looked immediately below her at the tavern door, no one was coming in or out. She stood up and paced the room nervously, her anxiety only heightened by the sounds of the soldiers shouting orders outside and the ominous absence of the drum.

Why was it taking so long?

She paced the room anxiously, willing her mind to cease the endless foray of hypothetical disastrous situations her friends could find themselves in, leaving her essentially helpless in the 18th century. If they were caught, imprisoned, set up before a firing squad charged with high treason against the Crown…what would she do? A large knot seemed to be forming in the pit of her stomach and she could feel herself on the verge of an all-out panic attack. She needed to think about something else…anything else.

In an effort to clear her mind and calm her breathing, she made her way over to the quilted four poster bed and sat down. Wyatt's suit jacket was lying haphazardly on top of the covers where he had discarded it earlier. She ran her fingers over the ruined sleeve with a small smile, remembering how silly he had looked with his arm planted firmly in his bowl of stew. Despite being a little put out with Wyatt in her current situation as "look out", she had had a good time at dinner. Even if it was just a farce, even if it was just for the mission, spending time with Wyatt, one on one, was something she hadn't expected to ever happen again, after his commandeering of the Lifeboat. She still wasn't sure how he managed to get out of prison over such a blatant disregard for the rules, but she wasn't complaining. Her illness had made her feel left out and alone, so having the opportunity to be back with her team...with Wyatt...was something she was not about to pass up. Yes, she had the rest of the week off, but after everything that had happened that night with Wyatt stealing the Lifeboat and later, his fight with Noah, she was not about to let them leave her behind again. Wyatt was obviously still reeling from his disappointment, was very clearly in a state of distress and she couldn't help but think of his similar state of despair at the Alamo. Her concern for him far outweighed any time off that Noah insisted she take. Being able to spend some time alone with him had allowed her to see just how broken down and dejected he was and it made her heart ache. She had never seen him looking so desperate and she wanted, more than anything, to help him through this...but she was afraid, especially now, that by doing so, she was risking more than just her own heart.

Yes, she had been struggling with her mounting feelings for Wyatt for quite some time…but he had told her on more than one occasion that Jessica was his one and only. He had just risked his career, his freedom, everything to try to save her life, he was wearing his wedding ring…and yet, he was the one who tried to kiss her. She was at once grateful and irritated by Rufus' intrusion on what could have been a beautiful and long awaited encore of that kiss in Arkansas. Grateful, because kissing Wyatt without the threat of certain death hanging over their heads would undoubtedly lead to an awkwardness between them that she wasn't sure they could overcome…especially since the original kiss had already left her with what she was sure amounted to an unhealthy desire for more. Irritated, because a part of her wanted desperately to throw caution to the wind and allow herself to be swept away in whatever it was Wyatt wanted from her…professionalism be damned.

She knew, however, that by doing so she would be setting herself up for heartbreak. Wyatt was committed to his wife…that wedding ring on his finger was evidence enough of that and she was not about to allow herself to get caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that was clearly causing a storm within him. He had come to her, desperate, pleading…a mess, really…telling her that this was his chance, his only chance to save Jessica and he was going to take it no matter the consequences. It had broken her heart when he told her that getting Jessica back would be worth losing his place on the team, losing his career, even going to prison. She didn't blame him. How could she?

The only reason she remained on the team, after all, was to save Amy. Well…that was almost the only reason. She would risk everything to have her sister back, she understood what it was like to face that time machine every day, knowing that one trip could make the difference. One trip could bring back the person you loved and missed the most. But if she were being honest with herself, part of the reason she remained on this team was because of him. They were friends and team mates, after all, they trusted each other, depended and relied on one another, needed one another…but that was why whatever this was, couldn't happen. He was vulnerable and if she took advantage of that vulnerability, what would that do to their relationship? What would come of it?

Nothing good.

Once more, Lucy crossed to the window, the soldiers were filing into the tavern now, and the dread mounting in her chest was nearing full-blown panic. She bit her lip nervously as she strained her ears for the sounds of any disturbance downstairs…but there was nothing. Minutes passed and still there was…nothing. Restless now, she began pacing frantically in the room determined that if they were not back in the next few minutes she was going to go downstairs after them. She had just crossed back over to the door when frantic shouts and a bell reached her ears. She raced over to the window and saw soldiers rushing off down the streets towards an orange haze.

Fire.

Lucy's eyes widened at the sight as a wave of overwhelming anxiety overtook her. What had they done? The Gaspee was supposed to be burn…not the town. Her eyes frantically scanned the street below as pandemonium erupted from all corners. Townspeople were pouring out of every door lining the street, soldiers were calling out commands and urging people to remain calm. But there was no sign of either Rufus or Wyatt. Lucy paced the room again, even more restless than she had been before, doing her best to remain calm…except every second that they weren't back, filled her with insurmountable dread. What had happened? Where did they go? Did the raiders escape? Were they involved in this? Not interested in remaining in the dark any longer, Lucy marched resolutely towards the door of their room, wrenched it open and made her way downstairs. The tavern was almost completely empty. One look towards the open door of the back room informed her that the meeting which was supposed to last until 10PM that evening was now over. Whether they had left of their own accord or had been rounded up by the soldiers, she had no idea…nor would she get any answers by standing stupidly in the foyer of the tavern. Taking a deep breath, she strode towards the open front door and stepped out into the chaos of the cool, crisp and smoke filled night.