Wyatt had a hell of a headache.
And no, it wasn't because now his feelings for Lucy, which were already confusing enough, were now even more confused and frustrating…though, he had to admit that was kind of the whole reason for his present predicament.
After Lucy had…um…let her hair down, Wyatt had resigned himself to sleep in the chair by the fire, feeling that to sleep next to her after that kiss was…well, it was just asking for trouble. Sleeping next to Rufus in the loft would just lead to too many awkward questions - awkward questions he absolutely did not want to answer. His only choice, therefore, was to find someplace else to sleep and that chair – the same one Lucy had frequented while he had been waylaid with his burns, was the most viable answer to his problem. He had slept in plenty of uncomfortable places over the years…but that chair had been nothing short of torture…even if it was self-inflicted.
He knew that there was no way in hell he could crawl into bed next to Lucy Preston after that kiss…given what his unconscious mind was already dealing with when it came to her. That didn't prevent him from battling with himself the entire night, however. There were several times, in fact, he thought he might be better off just sleeping outside in the damn cold, feeling that to freeze to death would be more merciful than sitting in a chair, a few feet away from certain temptation, frustratingly aware of every single move and sigh she made.
And that was only half of his problems.
Sleeping in the rocking chair might have seemed like a reasonable alternative at the time, but the pain in his neck was proving otherwise this morning. Groaning while he worked the knots out of his aching neck and shoulders, Wyatt slowly eased his way out of his makeshift bed, stretching out his back as he shuffled towards the window to watch the sunlight streak across the grey dawn sky of morning.
It was a new day.
And with that new day came a whole host of new possibilities that had…before last night…been little more than a pipe dream. According to whatever constituted the legal authority in this God-forsaken wilderness…this land, this house…was his. He realized, suddenly, as he stared out of the window at the rising sun, that he had forgotten to tell Lucy and Rufus what John Fraser had so graciously done for them. Not really that surprising given the unexpected dinner and birthday celebration…but still, Wyatt felt he should have told them…because then they would have a choice. Maybe instead of...
No.
They couldn't stay here. Though the risks of flying home blind were great…hell, practically suicidal…Wyatt knew – they had to try. It wasn't fair for him to ask either one of his friends to consider staying when they had so much to live for back in 2016.
And he did too, didn't he?
With a time machine, he had a chance…a real chance to save Jessica. He could not screw that up now.
A soft grunt from Lucy pulled Wyatt back from his musings. He glanced over his shoulder to see her sprawled across the bed, her face completely devoid of the care etched all over his as she slept on.
What the hell was he going to do?
Last night was…well, as far as he was concerned, last night had never happened.
Lucy had been drunk…VERY drunk and therefore it was hardly wise to put any kind of stock into what she said and did when she had no damn idea what she was doing. While he knew he was going to have a hard time forgetting that kiss…or really any kiss Lucy had already given him…there was no need to think or hope that it was anything more than the effects of alcohol.
Way too much alcohol.
Besides, what would talking about it accomplish? It would only embarrass Lucy…and mortify him for having to admit that once again he saw her naked…and that not only had she kissed him…he had kissed her back…when she was totally wasted and completely incapable of…
Nope – he wasn't going to say a damn thing about it. Rufus had slept through the whole thing, and Lucy…well, Lucy probably wasn't going to remember any of it anyway...so what did it matter?
Wyatt sighed heavily as he made his way towards the fireplace, throwing a few logs onto the fire to urge it back to life. He might have a massive headache, but he could at least get breakfast started. Pulling on his coat, he quietly made his way outside, marching slowly towards the chicken coop to gather up a few eggs, remembering with a smile as he approached, how Lucy had done battle with that red feathered chicken from Hell.
He was more fortunate than Lucy had been in his quest for eggs, not meeting with so much as a cluck from the chickens, puffed up and still snoozing comfortably in their roosts. As he made his way back to the house, eggs in hand, he found himself face to face with Rufus who looked very much like he had literally just rolled out of bed as he was limping slightly.
"Morning" Wyatt muttered gruffly before asking with some amusement, "you alright, man?"
"Damn ladder." was all he received in reply as his friend swiftly and gruffly made his way past him.
Shrugging off Rufus' grumpiness, Wyatt silently made his way back into the cabin, determined to gather up the supplies he needed as quietly as he could so that he could make breakfast outside and not disturb Lucy. One, he figured she was probably going to have one hell of a hangover and two, he wasn't quite prepared to face her after…everything.
To think that he, a Delta Force operative, a career soldier, a man who had charged into battle countless times with no thought of his own life…was terrified at the idea of facing Lucy after she had thrown him for a loop with a kiss that…well, a kiss that had pretty well knocked his damn socks off – was ridiculous. Lucy was just Lucy - but if he was being completely honest, it wasn't the first time she had elicited that kind of reaction from him. This time might have been far more intense…but that first time…that chaste little kiss on the cheek she had planted on him…so unexpectedly…so sweetly….it…it had done something to him. He couldn't quite describe it….it was just something that…he had never quite felt before.
Not even with Jessica.
Which was why he was so damn confused.
Maybe it was because it had been so unexpected…or maybe it was just that it had been so long since he had…hell, had it been since Jessica that he had gotten so much as a kiss on the cheek? It had to have been – he may have flirted with a fair number of women these past few years, but it never went beyond the verbal. Lucy, really, was the only woman he had had any kind of real relationship with in years and…well, whatever it was, it was just…different…and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
Last night should never have happened…but it did…and he knew that despite his best efforts, it was going to haunt him for the rest of his days. He should have never kissed her back…he should have pulled away the minute she wrapped her arms around his neck…but dammit, how was he supposed to know she was going to…
It didn't matter.
No one would ever know…Lucy wouldn't remember…and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell anybody…about ANYTHING that happened last night.
"Oh my God."
The sound of Lucy's voice, filled with utter mortification, stopped Wyatt dead in his tracks as he made his way towards the door. At first, he thought that maybe he had been talking out loud again and she had overheard. Then he thought (hoped) that perhaps she was just hung over and was expressing just how much she regretted her binge of the night before. It was Rufus, however, who zeroed in on just what exactly had Lucy so distraught…and as Wyatt watched him stop short in the doorway, his face agape in scandal, he knew – before Rufus even opened his mouth, he knew what the problem was…and he could not believe he didn't think about it sooner. "Um, Lucy," Rufus began in astonishment, "Why are you wearing Wyatt's shirt?"
Shit.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he not realize that Lucy wearing his shirt would raise the very awkward questions he was hoping to avoid? It was so damn obvious to him now, but last night…hell even this morning, it had completely escaped his notice – which - considering how he had basically thrown it at her after she stripped in front of him was kind of amazing in and of itself. The memory of his noble sacrifice however, had been lost, disregarded, forgotten in the wake of that damn kiss.
He could feel the heat rising on his neck, he could sense Lucy's eyes boring into the back of him and he could see, out of the corner of his eye, Rufus' stunned face gaping at him from the open door.
It was abundantly clear to the both of them now that something had happened last night…something Lucy did or didn't remember…and right now, Wyatt really really hoped it was the latter, because dammit he could not even look at her.
"Wyatt?"
Lucy's voice, sounding so small and fearful, had him wishing he was miles away…not wanting to relive, especially with Rufus standing right there…any moment of last night.
"It's um…it's not...nothing happened." he assured, ducking his head down as he turned in an attempt to face her. "You just…you just um…I was trying to help you change…you know, to get you more comfortable, so…so you wouldn't have to sleep in your corset" he stammered, "and you um…you…"
He couldn't bring himself to say it…but Rufus could.
Bursting out laughing, Rufus clapped his hands together gleefully, "Ha! She stripped!" Wyatt slammed his eyes shut at the memory, desperate to keep Lucy's bare chest out of his head…which only served to confirm Rufus' suspicions as he immediately took to laughing again, "I guess you weren't kidding last night, Lucy. You really do know how to party."
"Oh my God." Lucy moaned again, burying her face in her hands.
"You know, Wyatt…when you told me you were going to take care of Lucy," Rufus teased, picking up Lucy's discarded chemise and corset from the floor, something else he had apparently overlooked this morning. "I didn't think…"
"It wasn't like that, okay?" Wyatt hissed, wrenching Lucy's corset out of Rufus' hand and quickly tossing it across the room towards her footlocker. "She just started yanking at her..." he motioned wildly, "and….I was trying to help her…and she just….that's why I gave her my shirt, okay? So…so I wouldn't see…anything."
"Uh-huh…but you did, didn't you?" Rufus asked, a broad smile forming on his face as Wyatt rolled his eyes.
"Oh my God." Lucy moaned again, this time collapsing forward and burying her head in the quilt.
Soft sobs of humiliation, muffled but audible, emanated from her small prone figure and Wyatt….Wyatt felt awful. It didn't help that Rufus was still smiling at him like a damn Cheshire cat and he, well, dammit he hadn't done anything wrong. It was Lucy who….
"If you didn't want to see anything," Rufus began, skeptically, though Wyatt could tell he was amused, "why not just give her her nightgown? Cause from where I'm standing," he said with a satisfied smirk on his face, "both of you lost your shirts last night…and well, seeing as how you two already sleep together…I think it's just kind of hard to believe that noth…
"Believe it." Wyatt said sternly, though he could not look at Rufus. "I gave her my damn shirt because…it just…it happened so fast…I just…." Another sob came from Lucy and Wyatt groaned, "It…Lucy, it's okay. It's not like I haven't…." but one look from Rufus had Wyatt changing trajectory, "Look, I didn't see anything, really…it was dark and as soon as you….I turned around Lucy, I swear."
Lucy let out a small whimper but said nothing more.
"So what you're saying is that you were a perfect gentleman?" Rufus asked, his voice dripping in skepticism.
Wyatt could do nothing more but acknowledge Rufus' assessment with a nod. Of course, to tell Rufus the truth would be unthinkable. Kissing Lucy was…well, it was…amazing – but she had been drunk and he shouldn't have…she had just taken him by surprise…that's all. He didn't…he wouldn't have…oh hell, he should not have kissed her back.
He was screwed.
That kiss was all he could think about…even now, when he was wishing the floor would just swallow him up whole. He couldn't look Rufus in the eye…and that was double for Lucy.
"So after…nothing happened?" Rufus asked, and Wyatt knew…dammit he knew Rufus could tell he was lying.
Mustering up as much grit as he could, Wyatt raised his eyes to meet Rufus'. Nodding tersely, Wyatt gritted out, "That's right, nothing happened."
Except that Lucy had kissed him.
And he had kissed her.
And…oh shit things were always going to be awkward now, weren't they?
"I wouldn't say nothing happened…" Rufus teased again, but Wyatt had had enough.
Pushing past him gruffly, his arms still laden with cooking supplies, Wyatt made his way out of the door, gritting out as he did so, "Believe whatever the hell you want, I'm making breakfast."
Wyatt absolutely refused point blank to go back inside the cabin. Instead, sending Rufus in with the eggs he had made while he washed his face in the water barrel, gathered up a few of his hunting traps and made his way into the woods. He was in no mood to deal with Rufus' suggestive glances or suffer under the guilt and mortification that came with just being in Lucy's presence.
Besides, she had made it clear, hadn't she? The very idea of him…seeing her…well, it wasn't exactly like she was happy about the prospect of…
Dammit, he really needed to get his head together. She was drunk. That kiss didn't mean anything...and if they were going to go on living together, he couldn't keep falling into this line of thinking that there was anything between him and Lucy except friendship. Hell, she was engaged. To a doctor. Someone who was damn well more suited to her than he would ever be.
With that thought Wyatt went to work setting traps along his favorite trail, hoping that he could hide out in these woods the rest of the day and not be anywhere near Lucy or Rufus.
But Lucy had other ideas.
He heard her before he saw her…the rustle of her skirts and the sound of her tripping over tree roots as she made a determined march towards him. Still, he kept his back turned towards her, his eye fixed on a flock of turkeys he had just spotted roosting in a distant tree.
"I need to talk to you." She gasped out breathlessly, though Wyatt could hear the tension, the embarrassment in her voice.
"Nothing to talk about." he shrugged, still not looking at her.
"Look, about last night…"
"Lucy, if it's all the same to you." Wyatt cut her off abruptly, "I'd really like to not talk about last night, okay? You were drunk…that's all there is to it."
"That's not all there is to it." she snapped, surprising Wyatt with how upset she was, so much so that he finally turned towards her with narrowed eyes. She faltered as he did so, suddenly looking embarrassed and vulnerable as she shrunk away slightly, explaining in a feeble voice, "I…just…I didn't mean for this to happen." Sighing heavily, she slumped down on a log, holding her head in her hands, "I'm…I'm sorry, okay?"
"Lucy," Wyatt scoffed incredulously, "What the hell are you apologizing for?"
"Everything." She moaned, her head still in her hands. "I was really trying to make your birthday…something special…and I messed it up. First the dinner, now this." She looked up at him helplessly, "I guess I was just really upset that I had screwed up the one thing I was hoping to get right…and then, I was just…you know thinking about Amy…and Rufus was talking about Jiya…and…well, getting drunk just seemed like a pretty good idea….at the time."
"Lucy," Wyatt scoffed again, "You're not the first person to think that you know? Getting drunk when you've had a shitty day isn't exactly…"
"I know, but Wyatt…it's not really fair to you." She flushed again, ducking her head down as she explained, "I…it was your birthday…and I shouldn't have…what I mean is, I know this whole situation has been difficult for you and I…I'm really sorry if I said or did anything last night that made that…even more difficult."
Wyatt felt a twinge of panic arise in his chest, but quickly batted it away as he tried to look and sound as nonchalant as he could, "You didn't."
Lucy scoffed skeptically, "Really? Wyatt, I…I basically stripped right in front of you."
"Honestly Lucy," Wyatt tried to assure her as resignedly took a seat beside her, "It wasn't like that, okay?" He sighed, "I was just trying to help you out of your corset and you…just…got a little…"
"Over-zealous?" Lucy finished for him dryly.
"Lucy, you were drunk." Wyatt offered again. "It wasn't that big of deal."
"But it was a big enough deal that you had to give me your shirt…"
Wyatt threw back his head in frustration, "Would you have rather that I didn't? I just…I was trying to…" God, he hated this. That kiss…that damn kiss was playing over and over again in his head as he gritted his teeth and lied, "Lucy, I was just trying to be respectful. That's all."
Lucy nodded, though she hardly looked convinced that something more hadn't gone on. "Just…just promise me," she said finally, "that you'll never let me drink like that again."
Wyatt couldn't help but smirk, "I tried to tell you last night that I'd drink you under the table…"
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Just promise me, okay? I don't need to embarrass myself any more than I already have."
"Well, I don't know if I can promise you that ma'…I…um…I mean, Lucy." Wyatt quickly corrected himself, suddenly flushing and shifting uncomfortably…something that did not escape Lucy's notice even as he cleared his throat and quickly got to his feet, "I mean, you are, um…pretty clumsy. I can't believe you didn't scare away every animal within a five-mile radius on your way out here." he added with a nod to the turkeys.
Lucy narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of what to make of his sudden change.
Unless…
"Wyatt?" she asked tentatively, "You promise…nothing else happened last night?"
Wyatt clenched his jaw, bracing himself for what felt like the most important lie of his life. Smoothing his features with a deep breath, he turned and looked at Lucy, really looked at her for the first time all morning. Her hair still held its curl from the night before, hair that his fingers had run through as he kissed the lips that were now quivering slightly in anticipation for his answer. There were so many things he wished he could undo in his life, so many things he wished had never happened…but kissing Lucy Preston was not one of them. God help him, he knew it was wrong…knew he would never be able to tell her…but when it was all said and done, he could never wish away that kiss. It may haunt him the rest of his days, but dammit…it was something he never wanted to forget. Casting his eyes downward, unable to look her in the eye as he lied, Wyatt nodded, "I promise. Nothing else happened."
Lucy may have bought Wyatt's lie, but it didn't make life any less awkward in the cabin…at least not for him. She might have gotten over her initial embarrassment and gone on as life as usual, but for him, every day was a new torture – exacerbated by the fact that Rufus was now almost always gone.
True to his word, Rufus had committed himself to working overtime to get them home – this translated into early mornings and late nights at the forge squeezing in his laborious attempts at crafting a patch for the Lifeboat in between the work necessitated by John Fraser. Wyatt was grateful to Rufus for his efforts, of course – hell, he was the one who all but demanded he try harder to fix the time machine, but it had become apparent, in the wake of kissing Lucy Preston, that Rufus' presence had been an underappreciated buffer…one that Wyatt was now, missing more than ever. His absence couldn't be helped, Wyatt knew, but dammit it didn't make his situation any easier. He was consistently torn between wanting to stay as far away from Lucy as possible and wanting to be as close to her as…well, as two people possibly could be – which they already practically were.
He had reclaimed his old spot in the bed, feeling that to not - after Lucy had specifically asked him if anything more had happened that night - would rouse suspicion. It was one thing to sleep next to Lucy Preston with Rufus snoring somewhere above him, it was quite another to lay beside her alone in the quiet dark of night, with firelight dancing on the ceiling, her arm draped across his chest, and the memory of that kiss playing over and over again in his mind. Still, as torturous as it was, Wyatt felt strangely at peace with her lying there by his side. It was like she had admitted all those weeks ago…he just slept better with her there beside him.
Be that as it may, Wyatt did his best to avoid Lucy during waking hours, feeling that in order keep himself in check, he didn't need to go on flirting with temptation. Not that Lucy was flirting…or doing anything apart from being her typical, driving him absolutely crazy, self…but the memory of her, the guilt he felt, the insane almost gravitational pull he felt towards her? Well, he had to deal with that enough at night…and he sure as hell didn't want to deal with it during the day too.
After dropping Lucy off at John Fraser's so she wouldn't be alone, Wyatt spent much of his time as he usually did – hunting or doing work on the farm – but today as he left Lucy at her usual post beside Mrs. Poe, John Fraser intercepted him. "Just the man, I've come to see." he remarked with a smile. "Tell me, son – have you given any more thought to learning the ins and outs of trade?"
If Wyatt was being quite honest, he hadn't really given it any thought. With Rufus intent on fixing the Lifeboat, Wyatt was feeling less inclined to make plans for a future here that probably would never be. If Rufus was successful in making that patch and getting the Lifeboat functioning again – they would be leaving.
Whether or not they'd survive the trip was another question.
Still, he didn't want to disappoint John and as he was desperately trying to keep some distance from Lucy and clear his head, he figured a walk in the woods was the perfect solution. Agreeing, then to John Fraser's proposal Wyatt helped him gather up his wares so they could set off for his trading post.
"You're fairly quiet today, m'boy." John remarked as they eased their way down the steep mountainside towards the valley – both of them leading a mule laden with various goods and wares. "A lot on your mind?"
Wyatt smirked, "Always."
"It's good to be thoughtful" John mused with a smile, "And if you're anything like me, you'll find more answers out here than you will back home. No offense to your dear wife, of course, but women, in general, can make it hard to think at times."
Wyatt chuckled as he imagined how Lucy might react to such a statement…and then remembered that he wasn't supposed to be thinking about her at all, so he did his best to try to change the subject. Racking his brain for something, anything to discuss that wouldn't eventually make its way back to her, them…and their life together, Wyatt finally landed on what little he knew about the trade in the region. "I suppose setting up shop next to the creek down here makes sense…this eventually connects to the Monongahela, right?"
"Aye, it does," John nodded, pointing out, "about four miles to the west there. We do our business," he explained further, "about two miles hence. Since the French built Duquesne, I like to keep my business off the main river if I can help it."
"Makes sense." Wyatt observed, before asking, "Has it hurt your trade at all? Being off the main waterway?"
John shrugged, "A fort will always bring in competition, what with a regular base of operations as it were. I come down here as often as I can when the supplies come in or when the supplies get low, sending word through my emissaries as to when interested parties might be able to find me."
"I suppose you get a lot of business from folks who don't want to do business with the French?"
"Yes…and no." John replied with a musing smile. "You have to understand that in these times, alliances are…shaky. The natives here…most of them have no real loyalty to either side, you see? They don't care who they trade with, just as long as they get the supplies they desire."
"But," Wyatt began in confusion, "I thought…well, I thought that some of these tribes were our allies…"
"Some are, yes." John Fraser conceded, "but, well I'm afraid that those alliances are formed for their own self-interest. There's a power struggle among these tribes, you see? And if one wanted to gain an upper hand, you might tie yourself to whichever side might most benefit you at a certain time."
Wyatt nodded in understanding, "Opportunism."
"Yes, exactly. Though," John conceded, "We do have a number of natives who are, as you say friendly…some, you might say are quite anxious about the French…seeing as how they're building up forts all up and down the Ohio." John clucked his tongue, "Of course, those tribes who are friendly with the French aren't exactly complaining…because…"
"It gives them the upper hand." Wyatt finished for him. "I guess the ones who are unhappy about all of this have got to be feeling pretty desperate right now with all of these raids and rumors of war…"
"Yes, I'd say they are desperate." John muttered in agreement as he waved to a small band of Natives waiting in the clearing in front of them. Wyatt startled to attention as the wary troop slowly made their way towards them as John added in a hushed whisper, "No sudden movements now." he warned, "This group here are not our enemies…but then again, these aren't exactly our friends – not their fault," he explained in a hushed whisper to Wyatt, "they have been dealt a sorry hand by both the British and the French of late and I'm afraid it is hard for them to know whom to trust." He patted Wyatt on the arm, "Let me meet them alone first and then I'll introduce you."
Wyatt stood back and watched as John limped his way towards the small band, greeting them all with a friendly handshake and a few words he did not understand. Though he trusted John's judgement, Wyatt couldn't help but remember that day – right after they first arrived – when they came upon a small troop just like this in the woods…and all hell broke loose.
Anxious and tense, he watched as the Native warriors spoke to John – their unfamiliar language sounding harsh and threatening to Wyatt's ears. His fingers twitched in anticipation – he might not have been the greatest shot with a flintlock pistol, but if he needed to defend himself and John, he would most certainly do it…and in fact, he thought it might very well be necessary. Though John remained cool and calm, the small band of men were anything but – obviously agitated, they were practically shouting as they gesticulated roughly towards Wyatt.
"No." Wyatt heard John say firmly, "He's a friend – a friend." More unknown words followed this pronouncement, resulting in a heated argument between two men of the tribe which had Wyatt once again, inching his hand closer to his pistol. "Here," John offered peacefully, handing over his musket to the angered member of the troop," for you." he said with a bow as he waved Wyatt towards him.
Reluctantly, Wyatt made his way towards John, casting nervous glances towards the Natives who were looking at him with a significant amount of distrust. Looking to John for guidance Wyatt nodded to the men, "Um…hi. I…um…I'm not here to hurt anybody." He cast another look at John and repeated awkwardly, "Friend."
Far from easing tensions, Wyatt's closer proximity only seemed to agitate them further as they gesticulated towards him and spoke once again to John in a language Wyatt did not understand. John, however, listened intently and with a great deal of patience before turning to Wyatt and asking him to spread out the wares, looking wholly unconcerned. Wyatt did as he was asked, going so far – with prompting from John, to actually handle a few of the trade transactions himself, though he was hardly comfortable doing so. He was looked at with a high degree of suspicion and even as the group made their way back to their canoe, beached on the bank of the creek, Wyatt couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong.
John, however, didn't seem bothered in the slightest – congratulating Wyatt on his first official trade as his partner. "You did a fine job, lad. A fine job, indeed."
"What was that all about?" Wyatt couldn't help but ask, nodding towards the retreating canoe.
John chuckled, "Oh, they are looking for a murderer. The French scrounged this area and are now enlisting the help of the Natives, as you see." He explained dismissively. "Probably a trade deal gone wrong or some drunken dispute. Anyway, they are offering a great deal in goods as a bounty."
"And they think it's me?" Wyatt asked incredulously.
"Not exactly." John explained again, "But as a stranger, you aroused both suspicion and opportunity. They could care less about your innocence or guilt…only the chance at getting the proffered reward. The French too, wouldn't mind one way or the other about your guilt or innocence….and well, since you've already had an unfortunate run in with them," John added with a smile, "I doubt they would've minded paying the full bounty for the man who destroyed their fort." He chuckled loudly and clapped Wyatt on the back, "Come on then, let's set up the rest of the wares over here. I expect we'll see a few others soon."
And they did.
All morning they traded muskets, pistols, shirts, and knives for furs, spears, fishing hooks, and leather, finally closing up shop in the afternoon nearly laden with as many goods as what they had come with. It had been fascinating watching John work and seeing how easily he interacted with the different tribes, knowing almost instinctively what it was they were looking for, but Wyatt had to admit that he was happy to be heading home.
Trading might have been fine for John, but for Wyatt it wasn't anything he was particularly fond of. It wasn't just the language barrier…it was a complete and total lack of understanding of how much something was worth. John would evaluate the furs or the leather and then direct Wyatt to show them what could be gotten for what had been given...and it made absolutely no sense to him. At times, three or four furs would earn someone a gun…other times, it might earn them a sack of meal. Something he couldn't help but ask John about as they made their way back up the mountainside.
"Different kinds of furs are more valuable than others." he explained, assuring Wyatt that he would understand it all in time. "Skunk will not be as esteemed as fox or rabbit," he informed him, "And the most valuable fur of all are these here," he said holding out a dark grey pelt, "beaver…the fur repels water and is therefore, quite useful."
"Don't you all use any kind of money out here?"
"To what purpose?" John asked with a laugh, "What use would these natives have for paper? Now gold, perhaps, yes…or maybe even silver might fetch you a good bit of trade…but it would be melted down and used for something else. This is not the city, lad." John explained with another laugh, "here, materials…raw materials are worth their weight in gold and then some. You'll see, when we get to Fort Cumberland, how much these furs are truly worth."
Fort Cumberland.
Wyatt knew that John was still waiting on his answer as to what they had planned on doing…and he still hadn't said a word to Lucy about it. Leaving their little cabin for the safety of Fort Cumberland or the comfort of Williamsburg…even if it was just for a little while…seemed almost like sealing their fate…to be stranded here…forever. He knew, more than John did, that the war with the French would last for nearly a decade. If they were to take refuge until the war was over…well, what would really be the point in trying to go back at that point? But if they didn't leave…who was to say they could survive two armies, salvaging for supplies and food…in the dead of winter? He hadn't really wanted to think about it, hoping that the situation would just resolve itself on its own, but as more and more time passed, Wyatt realized that he was going to have to make a decision…and soon…or they'd be worse off than they were when they started this mess.
It was with that mindset that he started back on the path home with Lucy after reaching John Fraser's farm, anxious to hear her thoughts on the possibility of ten years in the 18th century before they could even make an attempt to go back home. He was trying to think of some way to begin that conversation when she began, "So, I see you're taking John up on his offer to train you in trade." Eyeing him curiously, she asked, "How was it?"
"Different." Wyatt replied curtly. "It was…not something I see myself doing long term, I can tell you that."
Lucy bit her lip and nodded in understanding, "I'm sorry."
Wyatt scoffed, "Why are YOU sorry?"
"Well, you're trying to provide for us, right? Find a job that helps you to fit in here…I just wish I could be more help, that's all. It hardly seems fair for you to have to work to support me and Rufus. I just wish my skills…or lack thereof was worth something to these people."
"What are you talking about? You help out Mrs. Poe and Mary…"
"It's not the same." Lucy lamented with a sigh, "I mean, sure I help out with chores, but it's not a job…not one that would provide any kind of income or support. I'm dependent on you…and your success. Nothing I do can change our situation."
Wyatt's hand closed around the deed in his pocket, "Lucy, you shouldn't have to worry about that. We're going to be okay. You have enough work of your own to do…I don't care that I have to provide for all of us. You cook for all of us, right? Do our laundry?" She nodded as he continued, "We're in this together – it's not just you or me or Rufus, right? It's all of us."
"Yeah, but for how long?" A few more months? Years?
Wyatt stilled, "You're talking like you've given up hope of ever getting out of here."
Lucy cast a guilty look in his direction, "Haven't you?" Wyatt didn't answer, he merely stared back her solemnly as she continued with a sigh, "I know I shouldn't be…, I just thought that by now…"
"Rufus is working on it." Wyatt assured her weakly, though he was having the same fears.
"I know." Lucy nodded, fighting back her emotions, "I know…but Wyatt, what if…what if…" Her lip trembled as tears began to spill out onto her cheeks, forcing her to take a seat on a tree stump along the roadside as she tried to compose herself. After a few deep breaths, she began again, "Wyatt, what if Rufus can't fix it…then what?"
"We stay." Wyatt offered quietly. "Can't do much else, can we?"
Lucy shook her head woefully before replying in a voice thick with emotion, "No."
Hating seeing her cry, but wanting to give her some kind of assurance, Wyatt sighed heavily and knelt down in front of her, "Look, Lucy…I know you want to go home. You and Rufus both have family you need to get home to…" his hand closed around the deed John had gifted him as he scoffed, "This probably isn't the best time to bring this up, but Lucy, I think you should know…"
"John and Mary want us to leave for Cumberland with them." she replied thickly, nodding her head at his surprised confusion, "I know. Mary told me."
Wyatt released the deed and focused his attention back on the issue at hand, "So you know what that could mean…" he asked cautiously, "if we leave here to go to Cumberland or Williamsburg or wherever else they want us to go and those armies start fighting around the Lifeboat…". Lucy let out a shuddering breath as more tears fell and Wyatt sighed, "What…what do you want to do? I…I have no idea what to do, Lucy." he admitted honestly, "I can see John's point, but I know that if we leave…it might be years before we can…."
"I want to go home." Lucy acknowledged tearfully and Wyatt felt an inexplicable ache in his chest at her words.
"I know…" he replied quietly, "like I said, Rufus is trying…"
"No," Lucy replied, "not that home." Wyatt looked at her curiously, thinking momentarily that he had misunderstood and she meant their home when she explained further, "I want to go back to my home. With my sister."
"Lucy…"
"I know…I can't do that and I know it's silly even thinking that since we're stuck here…but I can't help but think about..." she sniffed, "I know that if we ever get out of here, my sister will still be gone and I will have to face her birthday when she doesn't exist…and nobody but me knows she doesn't exist…and...Wyatt, I don't know if I can deal with that after..."
"Lucy...I promise, if we get back," Wyatt assured her, "I'll help you..."
"But Wyatt, in order to get her back, my mother will have to die and it will be all my fault." She gasped as fresh tears began to fall, "How...how can I do that? How can I kill my own mother?"
"You wouldn't be killing your mother." Wyatt reminded her. "Lucy, she was already dying."
"I'd be making a choice." she argued flatly. "The right choice, I know." she acknowledged tearfully, "But still…I'd sacrifice my mother to get my sister back. And Wyatt…how…how does that make me any different than Flynn?"
"You are not like Flynn." Wyatt urged.
"I've been thinking a lot about that, lately." Lucy admitted, ignoring him. "How he told me" she sniffed, "we'd be quite the team someday?" Wyatt rolled his eyes at the thought, feeling that familiar pang of something as the memory of Flynn's taunting voice sounded in his mind's ear. "Is that…is that who I'm supposed to be? When…when he said…I'm…more than just a teacher?"
"You are more than just a teacher, Lucy." Wyatt interrupted, annoyed. "You didn't need Flynn to tell you that."
Lucy stared back at him, anxiety apparent on her face, "But Wyatt…Flynn wasn't always like this, you know? He was…he was different. What if…what if I just get so desperate…" she let out a shuddering breath, "He told me, I make him look like a boy scout. Wyatt…why would he say that if…if it weren't true? I mean, he has my journal, right? So obviously…I must have given it to him…which means that at some point I must…"
"Lucy," Wyatt scoffed impatiently, angry at the very thought, "in order for you and Flynn to be any kind of team – you'd have to get the hell out of here, because if you haven't noticed he's not here – we are. Secondly, you'd have to be a mass murdering psycho…and last time I checked, Lucy…you're not. Thirdly,…"
"Wait…" Lucy interrupted him, her mouth open in astonishment, "what did you say?"
"I said you're not a mass-murdering psycho…"
"No, no…" Lucy replied anxiously, suddenly getting to her feet, "before that…the first thing…"
Wyatt stared back at her in confusion as he recounted, "That in order for you and Flynn to be a team…"
"I'd have to be there. Not here." Her eyes widened as the full realization came upon her, "Wyatt…Wyatt…if Flynn and I are supposed to be team one day then that means….that means…"
"Hang on, Lucy." Wyatt dismissed, "That doesn't mean anything…"
"He needs that journal, right? In order to get his family back? That's what he said, right?"
"Yeah, but…"
"And how could I give him that journal, if I'm stuck here?" she replied pacing in front of him now.
"Lucy, you're forgetting one very important detail." Wyatt reminded her, "He already has the journal…so why would he need you to give it to him now…or later…whenever? Huh? " he spat out, daring Lucy to explain that one.
"Well some version of me has to give it to him at some point, right? I mean, I haven't written anything yet…and if I'm supposed to be doing that so that one day…"
"Lucy," Wyatt snapped angrily, "you're not supposed to be doing anything. There's no damn rule that says you have to do any of this…Lucy? Lucy!" Wyatt called after her, but she was already bouncing her way down the lane looking far more at ease than she had been just a few moments before.
With an exasperated grunt Wyatt chased after her, still attempting to talk some sense into her , but she would not listen. Lucy Preston's stubbornness rivaled that of his own…and while it was infuriating, he couldn't help but be infected by her renewed sense of optimism. For whatever reason, Lucy was now convinced that Flynn having her journal was proof that someday they would get the hell out of here…and while Wyatt hated that journal as much as he hated Flynn…he had to admit that she might be on to something.
Of course, Rufus was better situated than either of them to work out the hows and whats of time travel, but it did make some sort of sense that if all of this started because Lucy gave Flynn her journal at some point in the future…he would want to make sure she was still around to give it to him again, right? Or was the fact that he was changing history – changing what was already in that journal?
Oh hell, he didn't know – it was giving him a headache.
A low rumble of thunder sounded in the not so far distance prompting Wyatt to usher Lucy towards the cabin as he quickly made his way to the woodshed. The darkening clouds ominously rolling towards them from the far horizon making it clear that they were going to be in for one hell of a storm. He made a few trips back and forth, his arms laden with a supply of logs before the heavens opened and set him racing back to the cabin in a full on deluge of rain.
"I hope Rufus will be okay…" Lucy murmured anxiously as she peered out of the window. "This looks bad…you don't think it will wash out the road, do you?"
"Not much we can do if it does." Wyatt replied, depositing the firewood and shrugging off his coat, "Rufus might just have to swim for it."
"Oh I don't think he'd try to come back home in this…" Lucy remarked, looking out at the rain, "wouldn't it make more sense for him to just stay at the farm?"
"Yeah." Wyatt replied dryly, suddenly anxious. Sure, Rufus hadn't been around as often as he had been since making good on his promise…but, just the expectation of him coming home was enough to ease any apprehension Wyatt had about spending time alone with Lucy. Rufus would be there…at some point…and that was enough to keep his traitorous brain from settling too long on the what ifs that might occur should Rufus forego his loft above their bed and spend the night in the barn.
Determining he would not even look at her for the rest of the day, Wyatt snatched a small book from off the shelf, hardly caring what it was or who it was about – he just wanted and needed an escape. Plopping down grumpily in his chair, he flipped it open…only to have Lucy scoff at him in amusement.
"Since when do you read Rousseau?"
Wyatt, barely acknowledging her, shrugged, "Looked interesting." he lied.
Lucy frowned at him skeptically, "A Discourse on the Moral Effects of the Arts and Sciences" looked interesting? Wyatt, come on" she laughed, "Even I don't think that's very interesting."
"Then why do you have it?" he challenged, smirking at her from over the top of the book.
She shrugged, "Because I wanted something a little more intellectually stimulating than the Happy Housewife's Almanac that Mrs. Poe gave me. It was Rousseau or the Balance of Trade," she explained with a sigh,"I've at least read that one before" she said with a nod towards the book in Wyatt's hand, "although, I read it in French."
"Of course, you did." Wyatt muttered with a teasing eye roll, before sighing impatiently, "If you don't mind, I'm trying to read."
"Alright, fine." She hissed back at him, plopping down in her chair at the table and pulling out an old pair of her stockings. "I needed to practice darning these stupid things anyway."
Relieved that she was finally leaving him alone, Wyatt settled back down with his book, finding it pretty heavy on the philosophical, but overall, not as boring as he thought it might be. The whole argument Rousseau made that nature makes man happy and society makes him miserable felt like a pretty rational one to Wyatt – he was always happier away from society, after all. But as the book was only a whole 20 pages long, he soon found himself unoccupied again…and not at all very happy with nature right at the moment.
"Do you feel enlightened?" came Lucy's teasing voice, calling to him as he threw the book back on the shelf.
"You got anything longer than a chapter up here?" Wyatt asked, ignoring her. Straining his neck, he moved things around the shelf, knocking over vials of herbs and teas, until a small basket fell to the ground, spilling out its contents onto the floor…among them, a book. Seeing it, Wyatt immediately crouched down and scooped it off the floor, "What's this? Tom Jones…"
"Oh no, not that." Lucy spluttered out, nearly falling out of her chair as she scrambled to grab it from him.
Amused by her reaction, Wyatt looked at the book with new interest, "What is it? Some 18th century trashy romance novel?"
"Not exactly." she admitted flushing, "I mean, it's…it's nothing…really, nothing that would shock us, but in 1754...that book, well it's quite the scandal…which is why, I…I.." Wyatt raised his eyebrows at her, still holding the disreputable book in his hands as she stammered, "look, John got it in a shipment and…I couldn't ask him for it…so I…I just…"
"You stole it?" Wyatt asked her incredulously.
"No!" Lucy replied defensively before withering slightly and admitting, "Well, sort of…look, he got in a crate of supplies from Philadelphia or someplace and…well, as I said, that book has sort of a…reputation. The minute Mrs. Poe saw it she told him what a "lowly" book it was and demanded it be tossed out of the house, insisting that no decent person would ever read it and certainly would never sell it."
"So you took it." Wyatt asked her, highly amused now.
"I didn't make it obvious." Lucy explained, annoyed. "Do you honestly believe I could have just asked for that book and not been forced to sit through another lecture on morality by Mrs. Poe? I had enough of those when we first got here." she reminded him, "But…Tom Jones, it's…it's a classic. And this? This is the first edition, Wyatt. Do you know how much this is worth?"
"Uh-huh, so it's like a Back to the Future thing?"
"No, I just…something that priceless can't be just…tossed aside." She wrenched the book out of his hands, turning it over almost reverently as she murmured, "I was just trying to save a piece of history…that's all." She picked up the basket from the floor and the rest of the spilled contents, "I had completely forgotten about it until just now…but, I'm…well, I'm not exactly proud of what I did, so if you can promise me you won't breathe a word about this to John…"
"And ruin your reputation?" Wyatt asked with a smirk, "Wouldn't dream of it, ma…." He stopped suddenly, remembering Lucy's drunken admittance. Flushing slightly himself, he cleared his throat and corrected, "I um…I mean Lucy."
Not for the first time since that night, she narrowed her eyes at him, clearly suspicious…and hell, why wouldn't she be? He had called her ma'am since the first moment they met – doing it first out of habit…and then, afterwards - spite because he knew…or rather thought he knew that she hated it…and maybe she had, for a time. But just as his calling her ma'am to drive her up the proverbial wall had shifted to something…different, so too, had her response to it changed. She "loved" it when he called her that…that's what she had said...and while he was willing to chock some of that up to the alcohol, it was the…um...enthusiasm…she had displayed that night that had him shying away from ever saying that word ever again.
At least to Lucy Preston.
Hell no. There was no way in hell he could call her that. Seeing her small little smirk? The blush rise up on her cheek? It would remind him too much of that moment when she drunkenly mauled him and well, he was trying really hard not think about that right now.
He tried to move past her, back to his chair, but Lucy…ever curious, Lucy wouldn't let him, "Is something wrong?" she asked, a flush rising to her cheek, "You've been acting sort of…funny…since…well, since that...that night."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Wyatt shrugged, though not meeting her eye, "I'm just trying to find something to do and since you won't let me read your smutty book…"
Rolling her eyes, Lucy shoved it at him, "Here, take it." she exclaimed in exasperation, "Just try not to bend up the pages, okay? It's a…"
"First-edition, I know." Wyatt finished for her, smirking again as he reclaimed his seat, happy to have something with a bit more substance in the way of length to read. That had been too close, dammit. He had to be more careful – Lucy was already suspicious…and now, now she would be watching him like a hawk. Hiding himself behind Tom Jones, Wyatt set to reading…but he was hardly paying attention to the narrative. His thoughts were solely on Lucy, he could feel her watching him, could almost see her quirking her brow as she tried to analyze his behavior.
What if she found out? What if, somehow, she realized that he had lied to her? That something had actually happened?
He desperately tried to shake off his fears, but as much as he tried to calm the anxious feelings bubbling over in the pit of his stomach, he knew that his own guilt was eating away at him. Corrupting him. Making him miserable.
Damn Rossueau.
He could hear Lucy humming to herself and he breathed a sigh of relief – she was back to darning her stockings. He tried to refocus on the book but found himself reading over the same paragraph over and over again as the drumming of the rain and Lucy's voice slowly lulled him to sleep.
He woke with a start, a loud crash of thunder shocking him out of his dreamless sleep as he nearly toppled forward out of the chair. The windows rattling as a fresh downpour of rain began to fall. "Holy sh…sorry," he muttered as he tried to compose himself, "I guess I just dozed off…
Lucy?"
Wyatt's eyes darted around the empty cabin, panic rising in his chest as he quickly scrambled to his feet, "Lucy?!" he called a little louder, the terror in his voice seeming to echo in the empty cabin.
Where the hell was she?
Shaking, he snatched up his coat and rammed his arms through the sleeves, kicking himself for not keeping an eye on her. If he learned anything in his trip to John's trading post it was that these woods were teeming with tribes who may or may not be so friendly and some, as John had pointed out, that wouldn't think twice before turning them over to the French for gain. He had just reached for the door when Lucy stumbled through it completely soaked through, gripping her sodden shawl around her shoulders and holding a cut of beef with the other. "Lucy," he breathed out in relief, instinctively hugging her…until he remembered that he was trying to keep her at an arm's length, "I…uh…where were you?"
She gaped at him in surprise, before stammering in confusion, "I…I had to go to the bathroom."
Wyatt, feeling beyond stupid now for overreacting, rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and pointed to the dripping roast in her hand, "I hope you didn't find that in there…."
Lucy rolled her eyes at him as she pushed her way passed him to the fireplace where she set to warming her hands, "I just thought…I should grab something from the smokehouse for dinner while I was out there."
Wyatt shook his head in disbelief, "In this rain? Why the hell didn't you ask me to do it?"
Again, Lucy gaped at him, "Because the rain had stopped, Wyatt. I just thought I'd stop by while I had a chance…and then…well then it started pouring again."
She started pulling off her short coat, revealing her chemise and corset underneath and Wyatt immediately turned around and faced the wall, "Uh…what…what are you doing?"
"What do you mean, what am I doing?" Lucy asked in exasperation, "I'm changing. I'm completely soaked." He could hear her moving to her trunk and shifting her dresses around, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the wall in front of him, desperately trying not to think about Lucy in any state of undress, but the universe obviously hated him, because no sooner had he resolved to go stand in the freezing cold rain himself until he either drowned or Rufus somehow miraculously fixed the time machine, when Lucy called out to him from behind her screen, "Wyatt…I need you."
Nope.
No…he didn't care if she had to live in that damn corset, he was not going to be called upon to remove that thing from her one more time.
"Wyatt?" she called again, annoyance readily apparent in her voice.
Sighing heavily, Wyatt dragged his hand over his face, cursing his life, "What is it, Lucy?"
"I just need you to…ow, I forgot to, ouch…grab my other corset…can you get it for me? It's just there in the trunk…" she paused before adding, "unless you want me to come out there and get it?"
"No! " Wyatt said a little too quickly, "No, it's um…it's fine. I'll get it." Being sure to keep his eyes diverted away from the screen separating him from an undoubtedly naked Lucy Preston and all of her unmentionables currently hanging from it, Wyatt made his way over to Lucy's trunk, quickly found her corset, and tossed it to her indifferently before retreating back to the other side of the cabin and resuming his attempt to read Tom Jones…though at the moment he was pretty damn well distracted.
It felt like a damned eternity before she re-emerged, lacing up the front of her new short jacket as she did so before turning her attention to the roast she had carried in. Wyatt tried to ignore her even as the pot she was trying to pull down from the shelf crashed to the floor, but it was no use – not even as he buried his nose even further in his book. Lucy was being too damn noisy.
With a resigned sigh he tossed the book to the side and made his way over to her – perched precariously on one of the stools attempting to reach one of her mixing bowls. "Here," Wyatt offered wearily, tapping her on her elbow, "Let me – before you end up killing yourself…" Lucy, already moving out of Wyatt's way, however, stopped short and narrowed her eyes. Seeing this, Wyatt looked at her in concern, "What's the matter?"
Lucy shook her head slowly and looked towards the bed, her hand caressing her temple slightly as she muttered, "It's…it's nothing. Just…" she looked back at Wyatt and laughed uncomfortably, "just a weird case of déjà vu."
Wyatt eyed her with concern before handing her the bowl. He was about to return to his seat…his head was basically screaming at him to do so, when he found himself turning towards Lucy, "You um…you want some help?" he asked with some hesitation, "I mean," he added as she looked up at him with surprise, "I did kind of promise you I'd teach you to cook."
A broad smile spread across Lucy's face, "Okay, sure…" she shrugged, "why not?" Pulling out her cookbook, she cleared her throat and suggested, "How about this? she asked, "Or do you think it's going to be too tough?" she pulled the cook book back and shook her head, 'maybe I should just stick to something I'm more comfortable with…"
Offering her a smirk, Wyatt began to read, finally shaking his head and letting out a curse, "Yeah, well, here's your first problem. What the hell is a," he squinted his eyes and moved the book closer, "a beef pye? Is that supposed to be pie as in P-I-E?"
Lucy rolled her eyes, "Look, if it's too much trouble…"
"No, no." Wyatt insisted as he rolled up his sleeves, "here, let me just…let me just do what I know how to do and we'll see how it turns out?"
"You mean," Lucy asked skeptically, "not follow the directions?"
"Yeah." Wyatt acknowledged with a smirk, "you know you don't always have to follow the rules, Lucy. In fact," he said, pulling out a bottle of wine, "sometimes, you just have to make it up as you go…"
Though she looked skeptical & a little uncomfortable at first, Lucy soon relaxed as Wyatt began to show her the ins and out of cooking a tough cut of meat. After tenderizing it, he had her make a few slices along the roast, handing her spices as she did so, "Alright, now sprinkle some salt and pepper all over that…that's right…and here," he added, as he grabbed an onion from a basket and quickly diced it for her, "toss that in there with the roast." Lucy dutifully obeyed, scooping up bits of onion and depositing them alongside the meat.
"Okay," she sighed. "What's next?"
"Now," said Wyatt with a meaningful nod towards the wine, "we let it marinate while we slowly cook this sucker."
Sealing up the roast in the dutch oven she had procured, Lucy carefully placed it on a trivet in the fireplace, backing away from it with some anxiousness before turning her attention to the pastry portion of the meal. "I thought instead of pie crust, I could just do biscuits. I can do biscuits." she said in way of explanation, "I just…I'm not that great at pies. Mrs. Poe has thrown every single one I've made in the trash."
Wyatt couldn't help but laugh at that, but nodded encouragingly, "Do whatever you want." He said, "That's the beauty of not following the rules," he reminded her, "flexibility."
Nodding once more, Lucy set to work and Wyatt, though inclined to go back to his book and reclaim his suitable distance from her, once again found himself unable to leave her side. Instead he helped her mix and knead the dough and if his hand brushed against hers every once in a while as he sought out more flour, so be it…
Once the biscuits had been set to bake, there was little more to do than wait and while again, Wyatt knew he should go back to his corner, he could not. Especially not when Lucy, after clearing the table, tossed a pack of cards his way and challenged him to a game of Gin Rummy. He had every excuse to deny her, he had no idea how to play – for one….and dammit, he was trying to keep her at a safe and respectable distance, but for some reason he found himself eagerly agreeing and pulling up a chair next to hers as she taught him the basics.
He had no idea how long they played before it was necessary to check on the dinner, but he couldn't remember the last time he had done this…spent an entire rainy afternoon indoors with…well, with anyone…playing games and…cooking and talking…and just…hanging out. It was…nice. And while part of his brain absolutely still wished that Rufus was around to chaperone the two of them, there was a whole other part of him that was hoping the rain would wash out the damn road…just so he could spend more time alone…with Lucy.
"Okay," came her voice, tentatively as she carefully lifted the lid of the dutch oven and peered inside, "I think it might be done…what do you think?"
"Only one way to find out," Wyatt replied, rising from his seat and shuffling towards her, grabbing a fork as he did so. "Let's see…".
Handing the fork over to Lucy so she could do the honors, Wyatt watched her with a growing fondness as she bit her lip and easily pulled a slice of meat from the roast. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, "I can't believe it…I…I didn't have to saw through it or anything."
He couldn't help but smile at her giddiness over a properly cooked roast, but that was Lucy Preston; The woman who would literally trip over herself with excitement upon seeing some random historical figure nobody but she recognized. "It's just a piece of meat, Lucy." he muttered teasingly. "You haven't even tried it yet…"
Arching her brow at him, Lucy held up the fork, "I think you should do the honors, it's your recipe, after all."
"You did all the work," he reminded her, but as she didn't seem to be relenting, he sighed heavily and nodded, reaching out for the fork only to have Lucy tilt it towards his mouth. Obliging her, he gently placed his fingers on her wrist as she fed him the piece of roast, her anxious eyes watching him intently as he sampled it.
"Well," she asked, gnawing her lower lip in anxious expectation. "How is it? Did I actually manage to cook something right?"
Swallowing, Wyatt nodded, "I…um…yeah, I think you managed it, ma'am."
A flush rose on Lucy's cheek as she ducked her head away with a shy smile…and dammit, he was in trouble. He hadn't meant to say it,…it just sort of slipped out…but seeing her reaction…her sober reaction to a word that used to cause her so much annoyance was…well dammit, it was Lucy being adorable again and he was not complai..."
"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her eyes fixed once more to the far corner of the room, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Did…didn't you say that before?"
Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, "Say what, before?"
But Lucy didn't answer him, she just shook her head slowly as she clenched her eyes shut as if trying desperately to remember something. "I know it's crazy, but I swear…you said that…". Wyatt eyed her with some concern, before she opened her eyes and murmured, "It was…that night…after you…you carried me from the table…?" she looked at Wyatt, anxious for confirmation, "Right?"
Panic. Sheer panic exploded in his chest as he desperately attempted to keep himself cool and composed. Shrugging, he acknowledged, "Yeah, I…uh…I guess I did. I don't really remember…"
Lucy nodded, seemingly satisfied by Wyatt's answer and he thought for one glorious moment that she was…until he face screwed up in thought again and she turned to him once more, "Did I…did I thank you? I keep thinking that…". Wyatt swallowed hard as Lucy bit her lip in thought, "we…talked."
Shit.
Wyatt immediately flushed, and began to back away from her, "Uh…yeah, you, um…we might have. I…um…I don't know…". Completely flustered and kicking himself for his slip of the tongue, Wyatt moved across the room in a desperate attempt to do something, anything to keep himself effectively distracted so that he wouldn't crack under Lucy Preston's watchful eye. But as he began setting the table, his hands shaking slightly from nerves, Lucy appeared to shrug off whatever harbored concerns she had and resumed dishing out portions of roast onto a serving tray. He had just breathed out a sigh of relief when a bolt of lightning streaked brightly across the sky, illuminating the entire cabin before erupting in a fantastic, deafening explosion that shook the very walls.
Lucy's hand slipped in surprise and caught on the cast iron pot. Hissing out in pain, she quickly cradled her burned hand with the other, gritting out a stream of profanity as Wyatt, genuinely worried about her, attempted to look at it. "Let me see…"he requested as she jerked her hand away from him.
"No, it's fine…it's just…"
"Lucy, dammit, let me see it." he insisted, and Lucy, finally relenting, extended her hand towards him with a tense grimace.
Gently, Wyatt took her hand in his own, examining it. "That was close." Lucy breathed out tersely, her watering eyes fixed on the darkened window splattered with raindrops.
Wyatt hummed in agreement, his finger coming to rest just outside an angry welt forming just alongside her pinkie as Lucy sucked in a sharp pained breath. "Yeah, you nailed that pretty good. We got any more of that burn salve you used to use on me?" he asked.
"In the medical kit." Lucy gritted out painfully, "it's in one of the vials…" she called to Wyatt as he quickly began a search. "No…no, not that one." she called out, nodding towards a bottle with a milky substance in it, "that one." Wyatt lifted out the tiny bottle she had identified and as carefully as he could, uncorked the bottle. The unmistakable and familiar scent of that burn ointment sent him right back to those days where he lay, helpless on the bed as Lucy administered to his wounds, driving him absolutely up the wall with every touch. Shaking the memory and the feelings it elicited from his mind, he spilled the oozy contents onto a bandage before tenderly touching it to Lucy's affected skin. She jolted at the touch, hissing in pain before exhaling in shuddering relief. "That's…that's better." she nodded, looking suddenly embarrassed as she tried to pull her hand away…
But Wyatt refused to let go.
Giving her a pointed look, he pulled her hand closer once more and proceeded to finish the task of bandaging her hand.
"Ouch!"
Wyatt stilled momentarily before Lucy took a deep breath and nodded for him to continue. Picking up another strip of bandage he smirked, "Now you know how I felt…this is what I believe you call karma."
Lucy rolled her eyes, "Yes, well," she sucked in another pained breath as he tied off the bandage, "if I hadn't taken care of your burns, you probably wouldn't be standing here right now…so you know…"
Wyatt rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was overwhelmingly grateful for all that she did in those days…even if it had been some of the most torturous moments of his life. Smirking, Wyatt nodded, "I'll keep that in mind, ma…" catching himself, he corrected with a smile, "Lucy."
But Lucy wasn't smiling.
Instead, she was staring at him, her mouth dropped open in shock...as if she had just realized something...dreadful.
Bewildered, Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her, "What?"
"Why do you keep doing that?" she asked him, her face reddening.
"Doing what?" Wyatt asked, though he knew damn well what she meant.
Casting him a withering glare, Lucy pressed, "You know exactly what I mean…you…" she flushed slightly as if embarrassed to admit it bothered her, "you…not calling me ma'am."
"Didn't you ask me to stop calling you ma'am?" Wyatt shot back, annoyed – though he was more annoyed with himself for being so damn careless.
"Well yes," Lucy replied weakly, "but…but that never stopped you before."
"Well, maybe I'm just trying to be more respectful of your wishes…Lucy." Wyatt replied, moving away from her to finish setting the table. "I didn't think you'd care so much…" he added strictly to put the pressure back on her.
"I don't." she spat back defiantly, "I just think it's weird that you seemed to care about what I think about that now after…you know what? Just forget it." she sighed out in exasperation. "Call me whatever you want, I don't care." she added with more than a little embarrassment as she returned to dishing out the roast.
It took a hell of a lot of self-control for Wyatt not to shoot back "Seems like you do care," but he knew that would just be asking for trouble. Lucy was already too damn suspicious - it was best to just let the whole thing drop.
But Lucy, much to his frustration, wasn't going to let it drop.
No sooner had they sat down to dinner, then Lucy turned to him and observed, "I just think you've been acting a little strange since that night…and if I did say something that made you…"
"Lucy," Wyatt replied as he attempted to swallow down his bite of food, "how many times do I have to tell you…nothing happened, okay? You were drunk, I carried you to the bed, you…took off your clothes, I gave you my shirt…and that was pretty much it."
"Yes, but…"
"Lucy," Wyatt groaned in exasperation.
"Just…just hear me out, okay?" she requested weakly, "Look, I just…if I did say something that made you uncomfortable…"
"You didn't."
"I just don't want it to affect anything moving forward." she continued, ignoring him. "I mean, I was drunk…and obviously there's something that must have bothered you because ever since that night you've…"
"Dammit Lucy, the only thing bothering me is this conversation." Wyatt spat out, throwing himself back in his chair in frustration, "I keep telling you nothing happened and you don't believe me." Lucy made to argue, but Wyatt talked over her, "So I don't call you ma'am as much anymore…but you asked me not to do that…now you're upset because I'm not…"
"That's not what I…"
"You took off your top…and yes, okay that was a little uncomfortable." Wyatt admitted, ignoring Lucy's protest, "but I gave you my shirt, Lucy…and hell, I even slept in the damn chair…"
Lucy narrowed her eyes, "Why would you do that?"
"What?"
"Sleep in the chair." Lucy replied curiously, "Why would you do that?"
Wyatt swallowed hard and then shrugged, "I don't know…just to give you some…some space."
"Some space for what?" Lucy remarked, shrugging her shoulders. "You said nothing happened, nothing made you uncomfortable…so then why would you sleep in that chair?" she asked with a pointed nod to the rocker, "I know from my own experience that thing is not exactly comfortable…"
"Look, I…" Wyatt began, but he could feel the flush of embarrassment rising up in his cheeks, so much so that he had to duck his head away to avoid Lucy's penetrating stare.
"Wyatt Logan" she demanded, her voice dangerous, "look me in the eye and tell me nothing else happened that night."
He couldn't do it. He knew he couldn't do it…but he also knew that he had to do it, otherwise Lucy would know that he had lied to her. "This is ridiculous." he scoffed, pushing himself away from the table and launching himself into an anxious pace around the room.
"I'm beginning to think it's not so ridiculous." Lucy observed flatly, tossing down her napkin and rising from the table herself. She skirted her way around the table, positioning herself right in Wyatt's path with her arms folded across her chest, "What happened, Wyatt?" she demanded, "I have every right to know."
"I told you…" Wyatt began, but his will to deny anything and everything about that night was dissipating under the pressure Lucy was currently putting on him.
Dammit, he was a Delta Force soldier, he had been trained to withstand every possible interrogation method imaginable…he could do this. Lucy was "just a teacher" after all, not some souped up international terrorist hellbent on murdering him and half his team. Taking a steadying breath, Wyatt lifted his head to face her, but the minute his eyes met hers, he was immediately reminded of the way it felt to kiss her and oh hell, he wanted nothing more than to do it again.
Shit.
Wyatt swallowed hard willing himself to get control of his damned emotions, but every time he attempted to explain away her absolutely justified and correct fears, his conscience was there - mentally beating the hell out of him.
"Well?" Lucy asked impatiently, her anger rising, "I'm waiting."
"Look Lucy," he began imploringly, "it wasn't a big deal, okay?"
"What wasn't a big deal?" she shot back, "Something made you sleep in that chair that night" she argued hotly, "what was it?"
"C'mon Lucy," Wyatt breathed out in frustration, turning away from her "you were…you were drunk."
"Yes…and because I was drunk," Lucy reminded him, "I don't really remember what happened that night…but you do. So what was it?" she pressed, "what did I…."
"You kissed me, okay?" Wyatt spat out angrily, turning back towards Lucy who gaped at him with a mixture of surprise, alarm and embarrassment. Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Wyatt turned away from her again, "You were already so embarrassed," he gritted out in explanation "I didn't want to embarrass you even more."
Lucy stared back at him, her face flushing red with shame and remorse, "Oh Wyatt…I'm…I'm so…I'm…."
"Sorry?" he offered, flatly, "yeah, well don't be." he stated dryly, snatching up his coat, "like I said, you were drunk." Pushing past her, he made his way to the door, wrenching it open even as the rain pounded against the windows. He had no idea what he was doing or where he would even go in this weather, he just needed to get away. His own shame was already eating away at him, but Lucy's apology was like a kick in the teeth.
He had just stepped onto the porch when a streak of lightening ripped across the sky, illuminating the sodden countryside around him. A movement caught his eye just beyond the treeline as Lucy joined him at his side, pulling her shawl around her shoulders, "Wyatt…"
"Shhh…" he hushed her, peering through the darkness.
Eyeing him with concern before shifting her own wary glance out to the yard beyond, Lucy whispered, "What's wrong? What is it?"
Wyatt shrugged, his eyes still trained on the woods. "I don't know…I thought I saw…" he trailed off peering through the heavy rain, unable to shake the feeling that someone was there…watching them. Lucy shifted uncomfortably beside him, hugging her arms around her either to ward off the cold or the same feeling of dread that had descended upon himself. Slowly, Wyatt reached for his gun, murmuring to Lucy to get back in the house when he saw it, a glint of silver reflected in another quick burst of lightening. Without warning, Wyatt quickly grabbed Lucy around the shoulders and pulled her down to the ground just as an explosion of wood and mortar showered down on top of them.
"Get inside!" Wyatt shouted at Lucy over another rumble of thunder.
Scrambling obediently on her hands and knees, Lucy crawled to safety as Wyatt braced himself against the damaged pillar from their porch. Another explosion of wood as a musket ball slammed into the side of their cabin had Lucy ducking under the table, her hands covering her ears as she screamed, "Wyatt!"
Wyatt peered over the railing of the porch, ever thankful that he had ignored Lucy's advice from the start and brought along his trusty .45. He couldn't quite make out the who in the haze of rain, but he counted about four or five armed men still taking cover in the woods just beyond the yard. "Lucy?" he called, "Slide me another clip, will ya? There's three of them in my rucksack." Shaking, Lucy crawled out from under the table and with trembling hands ransacked Wyatt's bag until at last, she found them…and another gun. Arming herself and sliding the clip to Wyatt she made her way back under the table just in time to see Wyatt rise up and take aim.
She closed her eyes as a loud cry sounded, opening them just in time to see a shadowy figure fall to the ground in their yard, before Wyatt ducked once again for cover. Three more shots exploded into the cabin, breaking the pitcher she had set out on the table. As shards of clay and streams of water dropped all around her, she peered out once again to see Wyatt get off two more shots before he scrambled for cover on the other end of the porch and out of her sight.
Desperate to keep an eye on him, Lucy crawled out from her hiding place once more, finding to her horror that Wyatt was bleeding from his shoulder as he quickly tossed his spent clip and reloaded with the new one. "Wyatt…" she began, but he waved her away.
"Stay there." he warned, before taking aim again. Once more, she saw a shadowy figure fall to the ground. "That's three…" Wyatt counted before looking over his shoulder to see that their remaining two attackers were now retreating across the yard. Cursing Wyatt took after them and Lucy…terrified, followed. Another volley of shots fired and Lucy hit the ground with a scream, attempting to shield herself as yet another shadowy figure fell to the ground. "Lucy? What the hell?" Wyatt yelled back at her, "Get back in the house!"
"Wyatt?! What the…".
The familiar sound of Rufus' voice followed by another ring of shots had Lucy scrambling to her feet as Wyatt waved his friend out of the way, "Go Rufus. Get Lucy…"
"How many are there?" came Tom's voice, running just behind Rufus, taking a gentle hold of Lucy's arm.
"I…I don't know." she stammered, still trembling as a cry from Wyatt sounded over the din, "Wyatt?!" she screamed, ready to run to his side, but Tom held her back, taking the gun she still had gripped in her hand.
"Take her." Tom ordered Rufus, "I'll help Mr. Wyatt." He assured them as he ran to where Wyatt was currently scuffling on the ground with one of their attackers.
Breaking free of Rufus' grip, Lucy raced after Tom only to be forced back to the ground by Rufus as another shot rang out. Desperate to see what was happening, Lucy scrambled back up to her hands and knees squinting through the rain to where she saw Wyatt standing over yet another figure that lay dead in the muddy lane leading to their home. She was just about to breathe a sigh of relief, when she saw another assailant behind him, hidden behind a freshly fallen tree, aiming his musket directly at Wyatt. Her cry of warning had barely escaped her lips when a gunshot pierced the air. Ignoring Rufus' pleas, Lucy took off running towards Wyatt who was still standing, his gaze directed towards his left where Tom had just emerged from the shadows, slowly lowering the gun he had taken from Lucy. As Rufus ran up from behind, Tom tipped his hat and motioned to the .45 with a scoff, "You's right…" he said, looking at the three of them with new interest, "you definitely ain't from anywhere around here."
Notes:
Let me first just apologize for this being so incredibly delayed. I had this chapter DONE - minus a proofread and went to post it before we left on several trips throughout all of April and it was gone. All of my work - just GONE. I think there were two paragraphs that I had of this entire chapter and well, if you've ever lost work like this - well, you know how sickening it is. So after crying for a little bit, I set to work on it again, still agonizing over what was lost while trying to bring it back to life as close to how it originally was as possible. So again, sorry for the delay - it was not intended at all - you should have had this at the end of March.
This is a LONG chapter, I know - BUT there are so many pieces I'm trying to move into place here at the end of this monster that it is just be expected. Everything in this chapter, even though some of it may seem "extra" is actually moving the story forward and we are getting very close to the end here...which I'm sure is welcome news to those of you still following this massive fic - if anyone still is actually following it. LOL.
Tom is now very much aware that Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus are more than what they seem...and that was always intended. I always kind of lamented that no one really (except Lucy's grandfather) ever discovered that they were from the future and I thought, when planning this fic, that for them to be in the past as long as they were going to be, developing relationships with folks, that somebody would have to catch on...and when I brought Tom in to be a friend and teacher to Rufus, I wanted it to be him.
I hope you enjoyed this update. I thank those of you who are still hanging in there with this for doing so. Mostly its just my OCD that keeps me writing because I started these stories and now I HAVE to finish them, but I do hope you like where this goes. Planning this fic out was so much fun and there are still some surprises and aha moments I have in store for you, so if you ARE still here and reading, I hope that you will continue to enjoy the ride.
Thanks again!