Chapter 39

Old Mission San Luis Rey Cemetery

Oceanside

Carefully steering his Jeep along the narrow paved lane running around the perimeter of the tranquil, well-maintained cemetery, Wyatt slowed to a near crawl, hands flexing nervously on the steering wheel. This was the first time he'd set foot in the place since his wife had been laid to rest five years ago, and it was both sad and embarrassing to realize he actually wasn't quite sure where she was buried. Searching his admittedly faulty memories of that terrible day for the location of Jessica's grave, he squinted across the neatly-spaced rows of headstones, hoping something like a tree or shrub looked familiar.

After making a full lap around the cemetery with no luck, Wyatt pulled off to one side and parked near where he thought the grave was. Pressing shaking fingers to the spot between his eyes where a tension headache was starting to make itself known, he took a couple deep breaths and thought longingly of Lucy and Jamie. It had been much tougher leaving them this morning than he'd anticipated. His son had been so excited to attend his friend's birthday party he was practically vibrating, not to mention Lucy seemed taken aback Wyatt wouldn't be going with them. However, somewhat encouraged by the idea that visiting the cemetery might result in some much-needed peace of mind, he was determined to not only go, but make the trip a solo endeavor.

Fishing his phone out of his jacket pocket, he smiled wistfully at the wallpaper background, gently running a fingertip over the picture of a laughing Lucy and Jamie he'd taken at the Christmas tree farm in early December. The three of them had such a good time and definitely made a lot of great memories that day. Maybe it was greedy of him, but dammit, Wyatt wanted the chance to make more memories with Lucy Preston...enough to last a lifetime.

Since it seemed inherently disrespectful for his cell to start ringing while he was here, Wyatt leaned across the front seat and tucked his phone away in the glove box before straightening up with a heavy sigh. Deep down, he really didn't want to be here this morning, but was just so damn tired of feeling sad and guilty. Wyatt didn't need a therapist to tell him that was no way to live...perpetually under the lingering shadow of Jessica's untimely, tragic death. It wasn't fair to his son or his girlfriend–or him.

Time to man up, Logan...finish the mission, he sternly reminded himself, scrubbing his hands tiredly across his face. Picking up the tissue paper-wrapped arrangement of brightly-colored Gerbera daisies (his wife's favorite flowers) lying on the seat beside him, Wyatt got out, locked the Jeep and started slowly walking between the winding rows of headstones.

He didn't know if it was Fate or the Force or what guiding him, but thankfully, Wyatt came across what he was looking for after less than ten minutes of wandering up and down the rows. Glancing around in embarrassment, he was relieved no one was around to witness his seemingly aimless rambling. Kneeling down to one side of the well-kept plot, Wyatt carefully unwrapped the flowers and gently propped them against the base of the modest headstone that read simply:

JESSICA N. LOGAN

Beloved Wife of Wyatt and Mother of Jamie

BORN: January 15, 1989

DIED: February 12, 2012

He liked it. The pale gray marble stone was nice, but certainly nothing fancy...which he imagined would've suited Jessica Logan to a tee. Honestly, he barely remembered choosing what should be etched on his dead wife's grave marker when Julie had asked after the burial, and it was entirely possible she and Bam had made the decision for him (considering what a drunken, emotional wreck Wyatt had been for weeks).

Reaching out with a trembling hand, he hesitantly traced his wife's name (the "N" stood for Nicole, as he recalled), blinking rapidly at the thick wave of sadness and regret clogging his throat and (dammit) filling his eyes. God, she'd been so young, he mourned, only 23 years old, with a whole life to live ahead of her. Swiping impatiently at a stray tear slipping down his cheek, Wyatt inhaled deeply. After a few seconds, he murmured tentatively, "Hey, Jess..." before immediately falling silent again, decidedly ill at ease and-despite thinking about little else for days-not quite sure how to ask for the absolution he felt undeserving of, yet desperately yearned for if he and Lucy were to have a future together...

She came to at the piercing shriek of a siren echoing hollowly around the inside of the emergency vehicle, eyes snapping open in shock. Glancing around wildly at the unfamiliar surroundings, Lucy's heart raced as she instinctively recoiled from the strange hands touching her. What's going on? Where was she? Wincing with the effort, she tried to concentrate, but it was difficult, considering the severity of her headache at the moment. "Where am I? What happened?" she asked anxiously, nervously eying the tall red-haired man standing beside her stretcher.

Busy listening to the stethoscope pressed firmly to her chest, the stranger ignored her for the moment, turning away to intently scan a row of beeping monitors on the wall beside her. Growing more confused and uneasy by the second, Lucy tried in vain to shift herself away from him. She stilled when a large, warm hand reached out to touch her left shoulder and he cautioned in a deep voice, "Easy there, Ma'am, you need to lie still now. My name is Zach and I'm an EMT. You've been involved in an accident, so we're taking you to the hospital. Can you take a couple of slow, deep breaths for me, please?" Even as she opened her mouth to protest, he smiled faintly and shook his head in warning.

Reluctantly slumping back against the stretcher, Lucy acquiesced, inhaling and exhaling unsteadily several times, all the while gazing uncertainly at the EMT, who removed the stethoscope and casually draped it around his neck before calmly holding his fingers to the inside of her wrist. Trying valiantly to control her breathing while he took her pulse, she was at first relieved when disjointed bits of memories gradually started to flood her brain. Today was Saturday, wasn't it? After Wyatt left for the base this morning, she and Jamie were on their way to his classmate's birthday party...the light turned green, but there was a white pickup...it didn't stop, just kept coming at them before slamming into her car...Jamie was in the back seat and Lucy tried with everything she had to get to him...Oh, no, where's Jamie?

Despite the man's admonition to lie still, she reached up and impatiently tugged at the oxygen mask covering the lower half of her face to plead with him, "Where's Jamie? Please? The little boy in the car with me? Is he okay? I think he hit his head. Did he wake up? I need to know he's alright. Please, can you find out for me?" Her eyes welled up at the thought of the frightened, probably injured five-year-old waking up by himself in the back of an ambulance with a stranger. He must be so scared...

Lucy exhaled in relief when Zach leaned closer and gently repositioning the oxygen mask, responded kindly, "Is Jamie your son's name? Try not to worry, Ma'am, the little guy they pulled out of your car is safe in the ambulance right in front of us. We're almost to the Naval Hospital outside the base. Now, can you tell me your name and if there's anyone we should call for you? Your husband? A parent or other family member?" She stared at him blankly for a moment. Husband? Think, Lucy. She struggled to focus, but her head was really starting to pound fiercely and there was a dull throbbing in her right shoulder getting worse by the minute. Wyatt...they needed to call Wyatt.

Pulling the mask down once more, she stammered breathlessly, "My name is Lucy...Lucy Preston. Um, I don't have a husband, but my boyfriend–Jamie's dad-works at Camp Pendleton as a training instructor. He's...I think he's at the base today. His name is Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan. I have his cell number in my phone...but I don't know where it is right now...I'm sorry..." She shook her head helplessly.

Zach smiled sympathetically, "Hey, you're doing fine, don't worry about it. If your phone's still in the wrecked car, it's probably not in the best shape right now anyway. I'll just have my driver radio over to the base and see if we can track down your guy and have him meet us at the hospital. Are you in any pain right now?" he asked, shining a tiny flashlight in her eyes. When she admitted her right shoulder hurt a little, he clicked off the light and gingerly lifting her right arm, rotated it carefully. When Lucy hissed involuntarily, the redhead murmured an apology before calling up front to the driver to check on the child in the other ambulance and have dispatch contact Pendleton to try and locate a Master Sergeant named Wyatt Logan.

Satisfied for the moment, she watched in silence as the paramedic retrieved a white cloth sling from one of the drawers along the wall and easing her forward slightly, skillfully bound Lucy's right arm securely to her chest in order to lessen some of the pressure on her shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully, closing her eyes against the single tear slipping down her cheek.

"You're very welcome, Lucy," he responded kindly. "It's hard to tell for certain without an X-ray, but I think there's a good possibility you've dislocated your shoulder. Could've been worse, though, because it looked like your car got banged up pretty good. Just try and stay calm for a couple more minutes until we get to the hospital, alright?" Easy for him to say, Lucy thought despondently, as she fought the urge to panic. If only she could see for herself that Jamie was alright. He just has to be, she prayed, because I'm not sure Wyatt can survive going through this again...

Glancing around, Wyatt was struck by how peaceful it was here, nothing but the whispered sound of the damp February breeze sweeping across the grass to disturb the sacred quiet. A small-town girl from west Texas, his wife would've liked this place, he decided with a pensive sigh. Sitting back on his heels, Wyatt let his thoughts drift for a moment to happier memories of Jessica Logan, an indulgence the grieving widower rarely allowed himself...

First week of Wyatt's senior year of high school when he looked across the crowded cafeteria and felt his heart jerk HARD in his chest at the sight of a tall, pretty blonde standing hesitantly just inside the open double doors...

The way Jess had clung to Wyatt the day before he left for Pendleton, trying so hard to be brave and not cry, just softly begging him to come back to her...

How radiant and proud his new wife looked on their wedding day a couple years later in the inexpensive lacy white dress her Grandma made, and the way her slender hand trembled when Wyatt slid the simple gold band on her finger...

The day a beaming, teary-eyed Jess greeted him after work on a warm, sunny fall day with the exciting news they were going to be parents the following summer...

Witnessing the birth of their healthy, beautiful, eight-pound son and realizing his life would never be the same...

With a great effort, he deliberately slammed the door shut on the wistful recollections before his mind arrived at the fateful night Jessica died...the night his world was upended when he lost a wife and his baby son lost a mother. Gazing down at the headstone through a burning film of tears, the agonized words burst out of Wyatt.

"It's my fault you died, Jess, and I'm sorry, God, just so, so sorry for that...sorry I didn't stop on the way home from the base that night to pick up diapers for Jamie, and even worse, practically pushed you out the door to go to the store after supper. I acted like a stupid, selfish ass, thinking only of myself...and you...you paid the price for it, honey, and that's something I have lived with every single day for the last five years. I'm sorry, too, that I've been a coward and this is the first time I've come to visit you. And I know it's more selfishness, and I'm sorrier than I can be for it, but I want...I need for you to forgive me, please, Jess, please..." he pleaded in a choked voice.

Overcome by his intense emotions, Wyatt dropped his face into his hands as harsh, tortured sobs tore from his throat. He made no effort to wipe away the tears, allowing the long-familiar feelings of shame and guilt and sorrow to consume him for a time. Gradually, though, along with the bitter tears, the heaviness weighing down his heart began to ease some, to the point where he could almost hear his wife's soft drawl in his head...

There's nothing to forgive, Wy...my death was nothing but a terrible accident and definitely not your fault...you need to let go of this guilt you've been carrying around and forgive yourself because nothing would make me happier...please, Wy, for me...

And then her wispy voice was gone as quickly as it came. All he could hear over the chilly wind gently ruffling the edges of the tissue paper wrapped around the daisies was the distant sound of traffic. Exhaling shakily, Wyatt's head throbbed and his throat felt a little raw, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as the emotional burden he'd lived with for so long slowly began to dissipate. Thank you, Jess, he breathed, feeling slightly calmer now. Clearing his throat loudly, he hastily scrubbed away the last remnants of tears from his face with the back of his hand. Suddenly, the urge to talk to Jessica came over him, and out of nowhere, the hoarse words tumbled from his lips.

"It's hard to believe how big Jamie's getting to be. I swear he grows about a half inch every couple weeks. Going on six years old now and halfway through his first year of school already. You'd be so proud of him, Jess. As his daddy, it's hard to be impartial, but I think our son is a pretty special little guy. I guess most everyone thinks he looks like me, probably 'cause his eyes are blue like mine, but he's definitely got your blond hair, and when Jamie's being ornery, it's your grin I see on his face. The kid loves pizza and Spiderman and Legos, and he's so damn smart and funny and polite and happy...and I know you'd be pleased at that. Your picture is beside his bed and Jamie kisses it and says, 'good night, Mommy' every single night before he goes to sleep..." His voice trailed off as a relieved Wyatt realized it felt surprisingly good to share their son with his mother.

Unconsciously rubbing the bare ring finger on his left hand, he took a fortifying breath before plowing on. "And then there's Lucy...Lucy Preston, Jamie's kindergarten teacher. She's special, too, Jess. Lucy's smart and kind and so pretty, she takes my breath away sometimes. Jamie's flat out crazy about her and she's really good with him. The thing is, Jess, I love her...and wanna marry her and maybe give Jamie a little brother or sister some day, God willing...and I just thought you should know that..." Reaching out, Wyatt smiled sadly as he lightly ran his hand over the top of the headstone, the granite cool to the touch. It might be wishful thinking, but after getting a few things off his chest, his heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time, all thanks to the wise guidance of his therapist–and a certain brunette's constant, loving support...

Between her growing physical discomfort and anxiety over Jamie, Lucy's nerves were frayed almost to the breaking point by the time the ambulance stopped with a hard jerk in front of the busy Emergency entrance to the hospital. Without warning, the back doors of the vehicle flew open, and an older blonde in brightly-colored scrubs was cheerfully greeting the EMT by name. "Hey, Zach, what do we have?" she asked briskly, nodding as he swiftly relayed Lucy's vitals while the pair worked efficiently to unload her stretcher and start pushing it toward the sliding double doors.

Frantically looking around for Jamie, it occurred belatedly to Lucy there was the distinct possibility that as merely his father's girlfriend, she might not be permitted to stay with him until Wyatt got there since legally she wasn't the five-year-old's mother or even his stepmother. Fortunately for her, it felt like Zach assumed the little boy rescued from her wrecked car was Lucy's son, and hopefully, unless she informed the hospital staff otherwise, they would, too. And just like that, she'd made up her mind. Legal or not–truth or not-there was no possible way she was leaving that child's side until his Daddy arrived.

Lucy cleared her throat, and clutching the paramedic's arm, asked, "Where's Jamie?" Before he could answer, she insisted in a shaky voice, "Please, I need to see my little boy." Glancing briefly at the nurse, the redhead assured Lucy her son was just down the hallway. Closing her eyes in sheer relief, she forced back a slight twinge of guilt at encouraging the misperception. It would only be for a short time anyway, Lucy told herself. Zach had mentioned this hospital was situated close to Pendleton, hadn't he, so it shouldn't take much time for one of the nurses to find Wyatt and he would be here soon. In the meantime, she'd have to do her best to be brave and look after Jamie...

Wyatt jerked in surprise when without warning, a familiar masculine voice behind him quietly said his name. Turning around swiftly, he was puzzled to see Bam standing a few feet away, a somber frown on his face. The hell? "Jesus, Bam, you about gave me a heart attack," he joked to cover his embarrassment, gracefully getting to his feet with rueful grin. "What are you doing here..."

"Wyatt." His friend interrupted gruffly, gazing at him sympathetically. "I tried to call you about a dozen times, but when you didn't answer, I came looking...good thing you told me yesterday what you planned on doing this morning...Wy, there's been an accident–Lucy's car was hit...we need to go, now..."

What? An accident? Who was in an accident? He stared at Bam in shock before shaking his head, his brain stubbornly refusing to hear what the other man was trying to tell him. There must be some mistake. Jamie's at his friend's birthday party right now. Lucy took him... When his friend continued to gaze at Wyatt steadily, the crushing reality of the words hit like a ton of bricks on his soul. Oh, God...Lucy and Jamie were in an accident? How? Where?

"But I don't understand...I just saw them before I left to come here...Jesus, Bam, there must be some mistake..." he stammered, wobbling unsteadily on his feet just a little. In the back of his mind, Wyatt dimly recognized he was going into shock. Luckily, his friend grabbed him firmly under the elbow when Wyatt's knees started to give out. Before he could sink to the ground in a broken heap, Bam drew him away from Jessica's grave toward where his pickup was parked behind the Jeep.

"Easy now, Wy, everything's gonna be okay. Kelly in the C.O.'s office took the message from an emergency dispatcher that the EMT's took Jamie and Lucy to the Naval Hospital near the base, and you know the docs there are the best. Anyway, when she couldn't reach you, Kelly called my cell and asked me to find you. Listen, do you have your phone on you?" Bam asked urgently. When Wyatt shook his head dazedly, he frowned and pressed, "Is your phone locked in the Jeep? C'mon, brother, focus, 'cause we gotta move and you're gonna need your phone. And don't even argue about leaving the Jeep here because no way in hell are you in any shape to drive."

Slumping heavily against the side of the truck, he was barely aware of Bam deftly snagging the keys from his pocket and retrieving Wyatt's phone before locking the Jeep and urging him into the truck. Buckling his seatbelt with shaking hands, he turned and stared sightlessly out the window toward Jess' grave as Bam climbed in and hurriedly put his truck in reverse before tearing out of the cemetery. This can't be happening again...surely God wouldn't be so cruel as to take his son and another woman he loved from him?

While his friend swiftly maneuvered through the busy Saturday morning traffic near the base, an icy resolve swept over Wyatt, the welcome numbness tamping down his panicked emotions before they got any further out of control. Lucy and Jamie were hurt, bad enough to be taken to the hospital, and needed him to be strong--and he would not let them down. Swallowing thickly, Wyatt turned away from the window and demanded quietly, "Tell me everything you know so far."

Glancing at Wyatt approvingly, his friend obliged, though the details were very sketchy. Lucy and Jamie were less than a couple miles from home when her car had been T-boned in a busy intersection by a pickup running a red light. Just like Jess, Wyatt's traitorous mind soberly reminded him. Determined to stay focused, he calmly forced away the distressing thought, asking, "And how did you find out about the accident again?" At first relieved Lucy had been alert enough to tell the EMT's his name and rank and that he was a T.I. at Pendleton, his heart plummeted at the realization she assumed he'd gone to the base this morning...because he hadn't told Lucy about the cemetery...aww, hell...

Mercifully, while it was clear from the expression on the other man's face his friend had already come to the same conclusion, he kept it to himself, merely explaining for the second time that as Wyatt's training partner and emergency contact, Kelly in the C.O.'s office called him when Wyatt didn't answer his phone. Thank God Bam had known where to find him, he thought gratefully, deliberately pushing his rising guilt over Lucy to the back of his mind. Now was not the time, dammit. "Thanks for coming to get me, man," he rasped, "You're a good friend."

"You bet," Bam nodded briskly, at last pulling into the Naval Hospital complex and slamming to a stop in front of the ER entrance. "Now get your ass in there. I'll be in as soon as I get parked." Wyatt bolted from the truck and through the automatic doors, desperate to find Lucy and Jamie. Hang on, sweetheart, I'm here now...

Thankfully, Lucy was hurriedly wheeled into the curtained-off area where Jamie had been placed before the little guy regained consciousness. Holding his chubby hand in hers, she watched him closely for several long minutes, desperate for him to wake up. Her growing concern eased some when his deep blue eyes (so like Wyatt's) gradually fluttered open, widening in surprise and pain and darting around the room until he saw her. Lower lip trembling, he immediately reached for Lucy as tears began sliding down his small face.

Awkwardly climbing down from her stretcher and situating herself on Jamie's, Lucy gathered him in her arms as best she could, murmuring softly to try and comfort him while ignoring the increasingly painful pressure on her injured shoulder. She appreciated the kind ER nurses allowing her to join him on the wide exam bed until they could both be moved upstairs for testing. Right now, she was the closest thing to a parent Jamie had until Wyatt got here, Lucy reflected, and she had no intention of leaving him. Nestled against her good side, the trembling five-year-old clung to her, hiccuping and whimpering softly against her chest for his Daddy until she thought her heart would break.

It had been not quite an hour since the two of them had been admitted and thoroughly examined and tests run before eventually being settled in a room. Lucy was overwhelmingly grateful no one had tried to separate her from Jamie. In addition to sporting an assortment of abrasions and shallow cuts they'd suffered from flying glass when the car windows shattered inward, the X-ray of Lucy's right shoulder revealed that, as Zach predicted, it was indeed dislocated. It was terribly sore from being manipulated back into place, but the pain medication she'd been given was keeping the worst of it at bay. The results of Jamie's CT scan indicated the five-year-old had suffered a mild concussion when his head hit the car door, enough to keep him in the hospital overnight for observation.

Curled up together in a bed in the Pediatric wing, Lucy sighed wearily before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Jamie's blond head, grateful he'd finally been allowed to fall asleep, even if it would only be for a short while. She had no doubt a nurse would be checking on them every couple of hours for the next 24 because of the concussion. While both of their injuries were serious enough, she was sickeningly aware they could have been so much worse.

Lucy shivered at that upsetting thought before yawning widely. The painkillers were making her drowsy, and yielding to the sweet oblivion of sleep–even for a brief nap-was unbelievably tempting. Scared and in pain and wanting Wyatt so badly she fairly ached with it, Lucy fought the urge to burst into tears. Where was he? Jamie needed him. She needed him. Choking back a sob, she whispered in her heart, Where are you, Wyatt? I need you, before wrapping her uninjured arm a little more securely around a slumbering Jamie and closing her eyes...but only for a couple minutes...

A/N #1: Briefly, just wanna say I believe visiting the grave of a loved one is an innately personal choice. For some, regular visits can be comforting, perhaps a way for them to stay connected to that person...while other individuals (like Wyatt in this story) vow never return to the cemetery because a grave and headstone are painful reminders that someone they love is lost to them forever.

A/N #2: Sorry for the heavy angst in this chapter–and yeah, better hang on, 'cause there's more to come-but Lucy and Wyatt still need to work through some things before finding their happy ending :/ As always, my sincere thanks to all the readers who're still following this story for your extreme patience! Your favorites, follows and kind reviews are so encouraging, Timeless friends :))