Coffee and Conversation

Flynn-

Flynn sat in the chair in the corner of his little offset room with a mug of coffee in his hands. The abandoned church they were set up in had been remodeled at some point to have had a kitchen and meeting place added. A generator was used to power the applicances so they could at least make decent meals for themselves as they kept a reasonably well stocked refrigerator. And a coffee maker, as well. Coffee is what makes the world go round, Flynn thought in amusement as he took a long sip of the hot, bitter brew. He took it black, something his friends had joked before this mess had started that he liked it that way because his soul was also black. He couldn't help but think of the irony of how right they were.

Flynn had come back to the room after getting a mug under the pretense of reading Lucy's journal again, but he wasn't getting much reading done, however. After he'd woken up, he'd gone to the computer to do research about the new circumstances of the death of Jesse James. It was then that he'd found the picture of his body with Lucy partially in it. It made him wonder if anyone she knew had come across that photo and thought it was amazing that an ancestor, which would be the only explicable reason to them, who looked uncannily exactly like Lucy Preston, had been there. Looking at that photo had reminded him again that it was his fault that she'd become a killer.

That was the reason he hadn't been able to do anything productive yet, except to brood over his coffee. It was then that Karl came into the room. Usually the other guys would leave Flynn alone when he went in there, knowing he liked to be by himself. Karl, on the other hand, was the only one, the only one brave enough, who disregarded that fact. Flynn actually considered Karl to be his only friend, but it was still wasn't a friendship built on years of trust like most normal friends. Still, he was the only person Flynn felt he could talk to and share more of his thoughts with.

"So, our newest resident is regaling the others with more stories about her decade in the past," Karl said, clearly unimpressed. It nearly made Flynn smile.

Flynn also knew that wasn't the real reason Karl had come in there. It was probably more like a guise just to check on him. Flynn found that he actually appreciated that.

"You'd think she wouldn't have that many since she claimed to be alone almost the whole time," Flynn said with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, I've noticed she likes to talk a lot. But I guess I might like to talk a lot too if I'd been alone that long," Karl replied. Flynn could detect no sympathy in Karl's tone though. "I figured I'd find you in here listening to the feed from the Preston house again."

Ah, so that's the reason he's in here, Flynn thought. "No, I checked a little earlier and Lucy wasn't up yet. I came in here to read her entry about the next trip."

Karl gave him a smirk and Flynn realized it was because that while the journal was beside him on the cot, it wasn't even opened, making it clear he was lying. Shit, Flynn thought.

"Don't you have that thing memorized yet?" Karl asked, not bothering to hide his amusement, but choosing to let the lie slide. Everyone knew it was best to pick your battles and apparently this was one Karl didn't want to pick with Flynn.

"It doesn't hurt to go over the details again," Flynn replied nonchalantly. The truth was more that he just liked seeing Lucy's handwriting since he did know most of the journal by heart now. They were both quiet for a few minutes.

The silence was broken by Karl when he quietly said, "Flynn, you know it's not your fault she killed him." Flynn sighed. He'd hoped to not have this conversation, but he knew Karl was just trying to be a friend to him and make him feel better. Nothing would ever make him feel better, though.

Flynn closed his eyes and said, "You know it's not that simple, Karl." He opened them to look straight at him and said, "I may not have forced her to pull the trigger, but it was still because of me that she did. I'm the one who changed history, and you know as well as I do that she felt like she had to correct that. She would feel responsible if he was able to escape from prison, which I have no doubt he eventually would have, and had killed more people. She's not one to let innocent people die, not if she can help it."

They both knew that was the absolute truth of Lucy's character. It made Flynn admire her all the more for it and he thought that Karl probably felt the same way. Karl didn't relish the kill just like he didn't, but they both knew there was no way that they couldn't kill people doing what they were. It was just a simple fact and they both accepted it as well as they could, finding a way to live with their actions. Flynn appreciated having Karl around, too. He was a light-hearted fellow and did his best to liven the mood when all he felt like doing was brood, like this morning. It felt good to have the companionship of someone to have a beer with and sometimes talk about things of little consequence. It wasn't often that they let go like that, but it happened on occasion. Plus, he was definitely handy to have on the trips. He dealt more with the others on their team when they were between jumps, which was something Flynn would loathe to do. He wasn't the best team player. Well, he thought grimly, not yet, anyway.

Karl let out a sigh of his own, one of defeat. Flynn was glad that Karl wasn't going to try to argue with him, he really didn't think he had it in him. He felt so weary, a man beyond his years. They were both silent for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Flynn's were still caught up in Lucy and Jesse James and Karl was thinking how he was going to keep Flynn from sinking further into his dark thoughts.

Stepping further into the room, Karl took a seat in the lone chair in the room facing Flynn. He settled himself into the uncomfortable chair, like every piece of furniture in their hideout, before he said, "So, we're going to Paris next, right?"

"Yes," Flynn said. "May of 1927."

"And we're shooting down Charles Lindbergh's plane before he's supposed to land?"

"That's the plan," Flynn said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at how many times things did not go 'according to plan.'

"And what's the purpose we need him again for?" Karl asked.

Flynn knew Karl already knew the answers to his questions. He was trying to keep him talking instead of brooding and Flynn decided to let him.

"With how highly connected his family is in Rittenhouse, he'll have the information of when the next summit is for all of the highest ranking members of the time." With luck, which was hardly ever on his side, Flynn thought that maybe there was a chance the father of the man who ordered his family to be killed would be there, and if Flynn could eliminate him, then it was possible the hit on his family would never take place. It was a long shot, Flynn knew it, but he still needed this information. Lucy's journal had not provided it, making it necessary for these jumps to take place. Lucy from the future wouldn't hand him a journal where she'd done all the work for him.

"Just how are you planning on getting the information from him? Torture?" This was the part Flynn had not mentioned before now when they'd been discussing strategy for what they did during their time in the past.

"It seems I have to take advantage of Lucy's good nature and use it against her," Flynn said, the self-reproach evident. He could see Karl raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hmm," was all Karl said for a moment. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Her, Rufus and Ernest Hemingway are going to follow Emma close to where we're hiding, and you are going to take Lucy and bring her to where I'm 'holding' an injured Lindbergh."

"The Ernest Hemingway? The great American writer and poet who committed suicide?" Karl asked.

"The one and only," Flynn replied, not surprised Karl dismissed the fact that he was going to take Lucy against her will and was more impressed that another famous person in history was involved in their antics. Karl wouldn't ever admit it, but Flynn had been able to tell that while he'd been nervous about Lucy trying to get away, he'd enjoyed Harry Houdini's show in Chicago and he'd been just as awe-struck, though well hidden, as Flynn had been. He was serious when the time came to be back to business as usual, and he'd definitely not appreciated the headache he'd had after being knocked out by the escape artist, but it was still pretty cool to have been in his presence.

Karl didn't ask anymore questions so Flynn decided to go ahead and reveal more of the plan without being prompted. "Lucy is going to 'talk me out of' torturing the information from Lindbergh and I'm going to let her try to talk to him before I resort to it. But she's not going to know that we'll have the room bugged and everything they say will be recorded so I never have to lift a finger toward the writer."

"Well," Karl said speculatively, "that's awfully sneaky and generous of you." Karl smirked. "I have no doubt you'll play your part of the almost-torturer well."

Flynn couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Yes, he certainly would be good at 'playing' the bad guy. He did think it was a bit unkind to trick Lucy the way he was, but he felt it was kinder to let her think she'd saved Lindbergh considerable pain.

Karl's next words surprised Flynn a bit as they had absolutely nothing to do with what they'd been talking about. "I'm going to make spaghetti with my grandmother's famous Swedish Meatballs for lunch. I'll come get you when it's ready if you don't venture out from here before it's done."

Flynn gave his friend a small smile and said, "That sounds great. I'll see you then." Karl gave a nod and left the room without another word.

While his life had gone to hell and it was soon going to get even worse, Flynn was glad he had a friend like Karl, who was not content to let him devolve into an even more dark and bitter person than he currently was. The Swedish Meatball recipe doesn't hurt, either, Flynn thought with a smile. Karl's grandmother had been one hell of a cook, her meatballs speaking for themselves. He was glad that he could still enjoy the simple things in life, like looking forward to a good meal of spaghetti and meatballs.

Merry Christmas everyone! :)