Chapter 4

A/N #1: Before we finish this rather angsty story, I want to give a big shout out to faithful readers Chgrgal and frtaylor771, whose kind, generous words never fail to brighten my day and encourage me to keep on writing–thank you from the bottom of my heart, Timeless friends :)

Epilogue

"Having somewhere to go is home...having someone to love is family...having both is a blessing." - Unknown

As the taillights of his military escort's SUV faded from view, Wyatt turned to enter the alarm code and carefully open the front door. Stepping inside, he gently shut it behind him and re-set the alarm. Putting his duffle on the floor, he sagged back against the door with a heartfelt sigh. He'd made it...home at last. Inhaling deeply, Wyatt felt the tremendous weight of fear and worry he'd been carrying around begin to slowly drain away.

Eagerly glancing around at the familiar surroundings, he was greatly comforted by the fact that everything looked and felt-even smelled-the same as always (as if he hadn't been thousands of miles from home in harm's way for the past ten days). As he'd fully expected from returning home unannounced in the middle of the night, the Logan house was dark and peacefully quiet, with everyone Wyatt loved most in the whole world upstairs sleeping, completely unaware of his late arrival. Of course, if Lucy had known to expect him tonight (this morning?), he was absolutely certain she would've waited up for him, all through the night if need be. That was just how his wife rolled...

Wyatt was acutely aware how terribly Lucy must have been suffering once she'd received word he was missing, and so of course the thought of prolonging that pain and fear was nearly unbearable. Unfortunately, once he and the surviving members of his team had been rescued, while desperate to make contact with her right away, he'd simply been given no opportunity to do so. There were certain strict protocols to be followed under the circumstances, a chain of events Wyatt had zero control over.

Normally, the military had a well-earned rep for taking its own sweet time on most occasions-except when it suited its purposes to do so otherwise. Considering the highly confidential nature of the failed covert operation, apparently this was one of those times. Wyatt couldn't actually complain much, though, because going home as soon as possible was exactly what he wanted. Almost constantly thinking of who was waiting for him at home kept him going during the miserable hours he and his team spent in the narrow, uncomfortably damp cave they'd taken refuge in.

While they hadn't necessarily been the worst conditions Wyatt had ever experienced–because hey, retired time traveler here–it damn sure hadn't been a barrel of laughs either. Their rations ran out early on the second day, and there'd been no water for more than 24 hours before the team had been found. Upon returning to the Army base, the team had immediately been taken to the medical building and treated for various injuries, followed by a very small high-protein meal and Gatorade to gradually begin replenishing their bodies.

Things began moving rapidly after that transpired for the men, despite Wyatt's persistent desire to call his wife and let her know he was alright. After eating and getting his shoulder wound stitched up, he hastily knocked back some Tylenol on his way to attending a mission debrief. Shortly afterwards, he was promptly ushered to the sprawling airfield for his transport back to the States. Luckily, it was heading straight to San Francisco without a stop in D.C. first–something he was extremely grateful for. Tiredly strapping himself in, Wyatt pulled his phone out with shaky hands, but after roughly calculating the time difference, decided to just surprise Lucy when he got home. The last thing he thought of before falling asleep to the loud roar of the jet engines (and basically passing out for the duration of the flight) was how excited she'd be to see him...

And now he was here. Noticing the soft glow of light emanating from the small lamp in the center of the table just inside the door, his lips curled in a fond smile. Knowing his wife the way he did, there was no doubt in Wyatt's mind she deliberately left the lamp burning–probably every single night since he left for Syria-in anticipation of his eventual return because she would've never given up hope it would happen. Such a typically sentimental Lucy thing to do. Without warning, his eyes began to well up and he shivered lightly.

Dammit...his feelings were all over the place right now. Given Wyatt's emotional state of mind and physical exhaustion at the moment, his reaction probably shouldn't have been all that surprising after what he'd endured. It had been one hell of a long, crazy, dangerous week or so. Without warning, he'd been practically torn away from his wife and children (and their happy, normal life), and unceremoniously thrust back into military service for a top-secret op in a foreign country on the other side of the world. He winced slightly at the lingering dull ache in his left shoulder. Oh, yeah. Not to mention that being shot and banged up some on top of going without food and water for a few days could really mess with a guy's head, too.

Despite his physical injuries, it was Wyatt's heart, though, that had suffered most during his brief return to the Army. God, how he'd missed Lucy, Flynn, Amy and little Ethan. Still, he'd done his duty to the best of his ability, all the while determined to survive and return home as soon as he could manage. Might be irrational (and definitely not practical), but now that he was back, perhaps unsurprisingly, there was definitely a small part of Wyatt that was loathe to leave their home in the foreseeable future...or at the very least, hoped never to be parted from his wife and children in a manner like this ever again.

That was part of the reason he'd been pleasantly surprised when despite the extremely late (early?) hour, after his military transport had landed, he'd noticed a text from Denise on his phone welcoming Wyatt home and informing him that because of injuries suffered during the mission, he was officially on medical leave for the next 28 days. Hmm...maybe it wasn't so unreasonable after all for him to stick pretty close to home for the next month...thank you, SAC Christopher...

A sudden wave of fatigue came out of nowhere, causing his knees to wobble a little. Damn, but he was tired...probably could use around 24 hours of sleep (and maybe a little something else) spent in the arms of his beautiful wife...although the 'little something else' he had in mind would sadly have to wait until after some shuteye, Wyatt thought ruefully, yawning widely and absently swiping at his burning eyes.

Careful not to jostle his sore shoulder, he straightened up and picking up his bag, turned off the lamp with a faint smile before heading for the steps. Once upstairs, he gently dropped the duffle just outside his bedroom door but didn't go in yet. Much as he desired with all his heart to be reunited with Lucy, Wyatt desperately wanted-needed-to see his children.

"The most important thing in the world is family and love..." - John Wooden

Turning away from the room where his wife lay all alone in their king-sized bed, he slipped into the nursery on the other side of the master bedroom. Standing beside Ethan's crib, Wyatt swallowed hard at the sudden rush of emotion filling his heart. Might sound strange, but to his homesick eyes, it looked as if the sleeping child had grown at least an inch since his father had seen him last. While it was beyond tempting to just scoop up his young son and hold him for about a day, it would no doubt be hell getting him back to sleep, which would of course annoy his wife, and Wyatt just couldn't in good conscience do that to her after the ordeal she'd been through while he was gone.

He knew Ethan would wake in a few hours anyway, so Wyatt settled for gently rubbing his back and whispering, "Hey, little man, Daddy's home. I missed you so much, buddy. Looks like you took real good care of your mama and sisters, but I knew you would. Daddy will see you when you wake up. Love you, son." Bending closer, he carefully tucked the plush dinosaur print blanket securely around the sturdy little body, hands freezing in place when without warning, Ethan moved slightly. Luckily, the toddler didn't wake, and with one last loving pat, Wyatt cautiously backed away from the crib and leaving the nursery door halfway open, swiftly made his way down the hall to the twins' bedroom.

Peeking around the open doorway, he shook his head affectionately at the predictable sight of the little girls curled up together in the same bed. From the time Flynn and Amy had graduated from cribs to first toddler and then twin beds, despite being tucked in separately by their parents every night, one of them would invariably climb into her sister's bed and sleep there until morning.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Wyatt's heart swelled with love at his peacefully sleeping daughters. Unlike Ethan, who was the very image of his father, the girls–especially Amy–definitely took after Lucy, something that never failed to please him. Smart, spirited but also sweet-natured (and every bit as pretty as their mother), the Logan twins were healthy and happy six-year-olds any parent would be proud of. Wyatt reached out to smooth back unruly dark curls from their foreheads and tenderly run his finger down baby soft cheeks flushed rosy with sleep.

"Hey, sweet girls, Daddy's home. I missed you and Ethan and Mommy so much while I was gone," he confided in a low voice to the twins after a long moment, content for now to just gaze at them. Like their little brother, they'd be up in a few hours, too. Reluctantly getting to his feet, Wyatt was almost to the doorway when he heard a faint voice behind him call his name.

"Daddy? Can I have a drink of water, please? I'm thirsty," Flynn asked with a tiny yawn, sitting up and rubbing one eye with a small fist. Wyatt was pleased at the child's lack of any noticeable reaction to her father's sudden appearance in her bedroom in the middle of the night. As he'd fully expected, his wife had done a fine job of keeping things as normal as possible for their children while he was gone by taking the burden of fear and worry for him onto her own narrow shoulders. Stepping into the twins' bathroom, he filled a cup about halfway.

Flynn nodded drowsily when Wyatt handed her the cup and warned softly, "Be careful now, little one, don't spill any water on your sister and wake her up," since her twin was usually the lighter sleeper of the two. She took a couple dainty sips before handing the cup back to him.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said with an adorable dimpled grin before sliding down under her blanket.

"Yes, Ma'am," Wyatt murmured, pulling the warm blanket up around her tiny shoulders. "Better go back to sleep now. Daddy will be here when you and Amy wake up in the morning, I promise. Love you, sweet girl." Setting the cup beside the bed, he smiled at her mumbled love you, too, Daddy, waiting a minute or two until she went back to sleep. Even as worn down to the bone as he was, seeing his children immediately lifted his spirits and made Wyatt feel better than he had in days.

With a contented sigh, he left the twins' room and walked into the hushed silence of the master bedroom, silently shutting the door behind him. Standing beside the bed, his eyes watered up again at the sight of his sleeping wife all curled around–if Wyatt wasn't mistaken–his pillow. Dear Lord, how he'd ached for her during their separation. Blinking away the embarrassing moisture starting to fill his eyes before he flat out lost it and started bawling like a baby, Wyatt turned and set his duffle beside the closet.

Ignoring how the neat stitches made by the Army medic who treated his injured shoulder pulled uncomfortably, with some effort, Wyatt managed to strip down to his boxers. Lifting the covers, he eased under them and pressing himself closely against her lithe, warm body, gingerly draped his injured arm around Lucy's trim waist and gradually felt himself truly relax for the first time since leaving for Syria. He was really here, in his own bed with the woman he loved.

The wave of relief washing over him was so great, it almost took his breath away. Carefully pushing aside the weight of her thick, messy hair with a trembling hand, Wyatt leaned in and gently rubbed his nose against the tender skin behind her ear, gratefully inhaling his wife's familiar fragrance. Yes. Like always, she smelled so good...like home.

Now that Wyatt was back safe and (mostly) sound, he could secretly admit to himself how terrified he'd been in Syria after the ambush–not for his own safety (or even that of the rest of the team, who were all seasoned soldiers), but at the devastating thought of never seeing his loved ones again. He shivered, his arm involuntarily tightening around Lucy's petite frame as the stress and trauma of the past ten days began to catch up with him. Wyatt must have accidentally squeezed too firmly, though, when she began to stir and murmur in her sleep.

"Stop messing around, Wyatt," his wife muttered crossly, to his surprise. "The baby will be awake in a couple of hours and I need some sleep." She sounded a bit disgruntled, yet still, so normal and charmingly Lucy, he couldn't help but grin. Wyatt selfishly wanted with his whole being to finish waking her and have a proper reunion, but the obvious exhaustion slurring Lucy's voice convinced him how badly she needed to rest. Poor baby...their time apart must've been so hard on her.

It didn't take much to imagine she wasn't sleeping well without him, but Wyatt was also dismayed to realize by the feel of her in his arms that slender as Lucy usually was, she'd lost weight while he was gone. Clearly then, she hadn't been eating much either. Practically swallowed up by the faded Army tee of his that she was wearing, her body definitely felt thinner, fragile even, nestled trustingly against him–although fragile was positively the last word he'd ever use to describe the woman he was married to because Lucy Logan was the strongest person he knew. Small but mighty, he smirked fleetingly before a thoughtful frown creased his forehead.

Knowing her as well as he did, it was a pretty safe bet Lucy had been so preoccupied taking care of their children, she'd neglected most of her own needs–not surprising but still, kind of frustrating. Okay, crap like that ends right here and now, Wyatt swore to himself. Even though he was recovering from being shot, more importantly (in his opinion), it was time for him to step up and be there for his brave, strong wife, to take care of her for a while...and he sure as hell was looking forward to it.

"Shh, it's alright, sweetheart, I'm here now, go back to sleep," Wyatt soothed, rubbing his hand up and down Lucy's bare arm until she settled with a quiet sigh against his chest. Awkwardly tugging the covers up over them with his left hand, he held her securely as her breathing evened out and she gradually drifted off. I love you so much, Wyatt's heart whispered blissfully before he finally gave into the weariness dogging him for days now and almost immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

In his admittedly fatigue-clouded mind, it seemed as if Wyatt had been out for all of maybe five minutes when a loud gasp, followed by a choked sob, abruptly penetrated his dense slumber–well, that, and the thin pair of arms wrapped so tightly around him, they were nearly cutting off his oxygen supply. Easy there, sweetheart, you're about to smother me, he thought groggily, blinking open weary eyes to stare into his wife's tear-stained face when she drew back slightly to gaze at him in shock.

"Wyatt? You're here? You're really here? I'm not dreaming?" Lucy exclaimed tremulously, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. Through her inevitable tears, she said haltingly, "I'm so relieved to see you. Thank heaven you're okay. We missed you so much while you were gone, and then I was so afraid when Denise told me you were missing..." Her tumultuous emotions getting the better of her, Lucy fell silent, though her soft brown eyes watched him hungrily in the very early morning light starting to fill the room. Judging by the bewildered frown slowly growing on his wife's face after a moment, though, apparently, she wasn't any happier with Wyatt's appearance than he'd been with hers.

Her small hands hovered between the white gauze bandages on his forehead and left shoulder as if uncertain if it was okay to touch him or not before finally settling for gently putting her palms over his heart as she gazed at him anxiously. "Wyatt? Why are you wearing bandages...in more than one place? What happened? Are you going to be alright? And why didn't you let me know you were coming home? I would've waited up for you," she scolded half-heartedly, biting her lower lip in agitation.

To his dismay, before he could respond at all, the tears filling her eyes once more spilled over, slipping down her pale, drawn face. Even through the haze of exhaustion, her overwhelming love and concern for him was evident–and just about broke Wyatt's heart. He really hated it when his Lucy was upset about something enough to cry...

"Hey, shh, it's not that bad, I'm okay, really," Wyatt mumbled, reaching out to caress Lucy's soft cheek with clumsy fingers. "Please don't cry, Lucy, you know I can't take it when you cry. I'm fine...promise. Couple of scratches, that's all. Just need some more sleep. Soldiering's hard work at my age," he teased gruffly, wanting more than anything to ease her worry. Thankfully, the effort actually paid off as his wife's face softened noticeably when Wyatt's heavy eyes started to droop. He yawned kind of rudely before drowsily rubbing his face on the pillow that smelled like her now and flopping over on his back. "C'mere, sweetheart, I need you," he coaxed tiredly, reaching for her, hoping he'd calmed her fears enough for the time being.

Lucy shook her head in resignation at his stubbornness, but willingly snuggled close. Resting her cheek against his uninjured shoulder, she murmured, "Well, I'm glad, because I need you, too, and I missed you more than you know. Sleep now, Wyatt, I'm right here. There'll be plenty of time to talk when you wake up, and I know three little people who are going to be thrilled to see their Daddy in the morning." With that, her eyes fluttered shut, soft breaths warming his bare skin as she slept once more.

His chest naturally got a little tight at the simple yet touching reminder about their son and daughters. Exhausted as Wyatt was, he definitely wanted to see them soon...but maybe that could wait until he'd gotten a couple more hours of sleep. Everything would be fine after that because the most important thing was he survived a dangerous, unexpected mission-pretty much in one piece–and returned safely to be with the family he loved more than his own life. And when it came right down to it, that was all that mattered to Wyatt Logan. Tightening his uninjured arm around Lucy, he sighed in contentment as sleep overcame him once more. It was so good to be home...

"I have learned that to be with those I love is enough." - Walt Whitman

A/N #2: My gosh! After all that angst, felt really good to reunite Wyatt and Lucy...and I hope it lived up to everyone's expectations! I truly enjoy writing for this happy little family, and will probably continue to do so in the future as long as inspiration strikes. For those readers still following First Steps, my gratitude for your incredible patience. Good news! I've already started on chapter 49. One of these days, I'm going to finish this monster of a story–promise :) Thanks so much to those of you still interested in the Timeless fandom, and kind enough to favorite, follow and review my stories–it means so much to me :))