Disclaimer: I own no recognizable characters, plot, setting or dialogue. Simply playing in the sandbox. All mistakes are my own.

Chapter 1

Lucy was tired – scratch that – she was beyond exhausted and in a lot of pain. The sharp and consistent burn along her ribcage that stole her breath and made her vision darken every time she inhaled or moved too much was really not good. It was more than not good. It was probably really bad in fact, considering she was disturbingly familiar with someone trying to slice and dice her. As she laid there on the curb of the dank and muddy street side, she tried not to think about what disgusting things she was rolling around on in this once cute outfit. Well, the blood would have ruined it anyhow.

Her main focus right now was on staying alert and stemming the blood flow of the wound even though it stung something awful every time she touched it. She couldn't see it, but considering the fact that she was awake and feeling every ounce of pain, she thought that might actually be a good sign. Loss of feeling or numbness would have been very bad.

Her head was starting to pound at a dull ache and her stomach was starting to revolt against the smell of the street and the blood. She was so done with this place, this time era, the fighting and the killing, all of it. She just wanted to go home. She wanted a hot shower, pain meds, a strong drink and a warm bed with lots of thick blankets and fluffy socks, and not necessarily in that order.

Lucy thought about how this trip had started out fairly well, chasing Emma to yet another time where she was recruiting for her big bad Rittenhouse comeback. They hadn't even needed to split up, Emma had been easy enough to find in the middle of Chicago 1912. Maybe it had been a little too easy to find her because the moment Wyatt and Rufus had turned around the street corner just ahead of her and Flynn, gunfire had opened up like firecrackers popping off and they'd all instinctively scattered in different directions for cover. Flynn had practically bodily moved her to the safety of an alley wall, instructed her firmly to stay put and then proceeded to draw his gun from his holster and effortlessly join the fray just moments after Wyatt did almost the same to Rufus.

The dogfight left several Rittenhouse agents dead, Emma having escaped, and several bystanders injured. Wyatt had an injured shoulder where a Rittenhouse thug shoved him hard against the side of a building and a cut on his cheek from a piece of glass. Rufus twisted his ankle after he tripped on the curb, trying to dodge a hail of bullets. Flynn had a busted lip, bruised jaw, and bloody knuckles from an agent that had gotten close enough to fight with fists instead. She thanked God that for once she'd gotten the worst of it instead of her team mates.

A Rittenhouse agent had somehow slipped passed trigger happy Flynn who was intent on killing Emma and Wyatt who had been distracted by some helpless passers-by who had strayed too close to the danger. The guy had come at her sideways with a knife, a nasty snarl on his features as he literally tried to run her through with the blade. She'd put her arms out instinctively and tried to twist out of the way of his swing. She'd managed to avoid being completely gutted, but the knife had somehow still sliced across her stomach, almost horizontally. It wasn't deep but there was a lot of blood and it was very painful. She'd tried to remain calm and collected about the whole thing, but she really didn't do well with blood. The guy must have thought he'd succeeded in fatally wounding her because he did nothing else to her as she lay sprawled out next to the curb near the alley wall.

In the haze of being stabbed, she'd heard the shouting of her team mates, almost like through a long tunnel. They'd sounded far away. Everything seemed far away now as she laid prone on the unforgiving ground, staring up at the hazy sky.

Wyatt was suddenly in her line of vision, looking for all the world like he was the one who'd been gutted. He seemed to only uncoil slightly when he realized it wasn't as bad as he first thought. He put his hand to her stomach and his eyes widened in horror when his fingers came away bloody. His blue eyes were swimming with worry, guilt, and anger as he put pressure on the wound, apologizing with his other hand that curled around the curve of her shoulder.

"Lucy, look at me." Her eyes snapped back into focus after she realized she'd spaced out for a few seconds. She met his gaze when his hand touched her cheek. "Focus on my voice, Luce. You're going to be okay. Do you understand me? You're going to be okay. Stay still so I can see how deep it is," Wyatt said, voice trembling too much to be comforting, as he moved the slashed fabric of her blouse aside.

It was long and jagged, going almost from hip to belly button but didn't seem life threatening, at least for the moment. The most worrying was the possibility of infection. Wyatt was staring down at her like this was his fault and even the way he touched her felt guilty. They hadn't gotten the chance to talk things out yet. About any of it. The situation with Jessica. What the hell they were going to do about any of it. He cursed himself internally for thinking again more about himself when he saw that bastard stab her. All he'd thought was he was going to lose her and he'd never gotten the chance to fix things between them. God, he was a jackass. This wasn't about him; this was about her. The conversation about them could wait. All he knew was that he needed her to live. Not just for him but for the whole team.

Lucy's eyes slid to look over his shoulder and she gasped aloud, but it wasn't from the pain which still hummed like an angry hornet beneath the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. "Lucy-" Wyatt said in alarm, going for the gun in his holster.

She gripped his arm with sudden strength, staying his impulsive movement. "Help him, Wyatt. Please. Help Flynn."

Wyatt turned his head to see Flynn across the road, beating the man who'd stabbed her to a pulp. His teeth were bared and his eyes were raging as he brought his fist down relentlessly against the man's face. The agent in question looked to not be putting up much of a fight in his seemingly semi-conscious state. Flynn's tunnel vision was on high.

"Please Wyatt, stop him. He's going to kill him," she whispered frantically, suddenly overcome with some unknown emotion. She didn't like that Flynn was over there and she was over here. She didn't like that he seemed to be freaking out.

Wyatt looked deeply troubled, obviously disagreeing. "I can't leave you. I need to stop the bleeding."

"I got her, Wyatt," Rufus said, appearing over his shoulder, a little worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. His face contorted when he saw Lucy's injury up close. After a shared look and silent conversation, the men traded places, Wyatt giving Lucy one final loaded look before he went to grab Flynn.

Rufus touched Lucy's hand and gave her a watery smile. "Everything's going to be okay, Lucy. Just hang on," he said, almost pleadingly. She gave his hand a tiny squeeze and nodded. He then set to work on wrapping a makeshift bandage. He tore a strip of his shirt and brought it behind her back and wrapped it around her waist. "This is going to hurt," he warned, and her eyes shuttered closed as he tightened the cloth.

Once he was finished, he grabbed her hand and tried to distract her by rambling about whatever came to mind, instead of her focusing on the blood and the pain. She wasn't listening to him though. Lucy's eyes tracked Wyatt through the haze of pain as he tried futilely it seemed to get through to Flynn.

Wyatt knew he wasn't a man known for his subtlety and he was way past being patient so when he made it to the man who seemed to be the bane of his existence lately, he was anything but gentle or subtle. "Flynn!" he barked, yanking at the arm of the man who had easily at least 4 inches on him in height.

Flynn barely broke momentum, merely shaking his hold off like it was a mild irritation and carrying on. "Damn it, that's enough!"

Wyatt got his arms around Flynn's chest from behind and hauled him back with all his strength and might. Flynn snarled something in Croatian that Wyatt didn't need a translation for to understand and tore himself free like a deranged, caged animal, shoving hard at Wyatt. Flynn gave him a very familiar murderous glare as his chest heaved and a wild look glinted in his eyes. Wyatt worried for a second that he might turn and lash out at him just like he'd done to the agent. The Rittenhouse agent in question was slumped unconscious and unrecognizable among the blood and swelling covering his face.

Wyatt wasn't afraid though; he was beyond aggravated. "You done being a raging psycho and pitching your little fit? We need to get Lucy home. Now," Wyatt snapped, wondering why he was even bothering with this shit when Lucy was hurt. He didn't care that he was probably poking the schizoid bear with his unnecessary jabs.

Flynn's whole body seemed to shudder at his words and he whipped his head around to look over where Lucy lay and a muscle in his jaw jumped. An unknown emotion flashed in his eyes and after another long moment, his body seemed to shrink in on itself. He clenched his jaw and glared back at Wyatt, almost defiantly. "This bastard hurt Lucy. He deserves to suffer," he bit out matter-of-factly, but the underlining tone was frayed and fraught with tension.

"Not disagreeing, but we need to leave," Wyatt said, not even trying to disguise his impatience and irritation. He was getting this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't care for. People were starting to gather near now that the danger had passed and the last thing, he wanted was for the authorities to show up and blame them for the mayhem.

When Flynn still seemed to want to go back to beating the guy, Wyatt added, if a little grudgingly, as if the words themselves pained him. "Lucy asked for you." While not exactly true, if it got him away that's all that mattered.

Wyatt watched what his words did to the other man. Flynn seemed to debate with himself before he settled on a decision, pulling his gun out of his holster and shooting the agent in the chest with a quick double tap. "Lucy didn't want you to kill him," Wyatt growled harshly, like everything about this man aggravated him.

Flynn gave him a look that clearly said 'it's a little late for that', slipped his gun back into his holster, turned and stalked off toward Lucy in long determined strides that left Wyatt jogging to catch up with him.

"How is she doing?" Wyatt asked Rufus, pushing past Flynn.

"I'm good and in no way beyond speaking for myself, thanks," Lucy sassed, answering for Rufus whose lip twitched in amusement and exasperation.

"I think the adrenaline took away her filter, she's been talking back to me for the past good bit," Rufus said, shaking his head.

"I thought guys liked girls who spoke their mind," Lucy mumbled and Rufus inclined his head at Wyatt like 'see what I mean?'.

Lucy's slightly clouded eyes shifted over to Flynn whose eyes were already boring into her and warming her insides like a hearth. She tried for a tired smile, but she was worried about the careful way he was holding himself, like he was trying to keep all his jagged, broken pieces from falling off. "Alright there, Flynn?" she asked breathlessly.

Moisture stung his eyes and emotion was suddenly clogging his throat. "Yeah."

"Come on, Lucy, let's get you up. We should leave before the authorities get here," Wyatt said, interrupting them and signaling for Rufus to help him, purposefully ignoring Flynn who hovered like a shadow.

A team effort got her on her feet and before Wyatt could offer his arm, she'd reached for Flynn and gotten a hold of his arm. She leaned against his side, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and frowning at the close up she got of the cuts and bruises marring his face. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

His mouth pinched like he couldn't believe she was asking him that question. "You should see the other guy," he said, trying for snark but there was too much darkness in his tone for it to land right. His large hand wound slowly and with surprising gentleness around her back and grasped her elbow to hold her upright. Wyatt looked like he wanted to tear that arm off even as they began a steady walk toward where they left the Lifeboat outside of town.

"You killed that guy," Lucy said, seeing the prone body of the man who'd tried to gut her, but she sounded closer to resigned than horrified.

Flynn gave a small incline of his head and his cheek twitched. "I did what had to be done, Lucy. He could have killed you." His arm was like a steel wire around her and he walked close enough that his breath coasted over her hair and neck. His frame towered over her own and she found that she liked the safety he provided.

She leaned more heavily on him, feeling herself beginning to fade. Rufus had pretty much stopped the bleeding but the pain and loss of adrenaline were starting to take its toll on her. Flynn tightened his arm and supported most of her weight effortlessly. Even halfway passed out she felt Wyatt's eyes drilling into her. He would corner her later. They needed to talk things out anyway. He'd bring up Flynn and probably berate her for whatever imaginary line she'd crossed by becoming friends with him, and honestly, she didn't have the energy for that. Her friendship with Flynn was off limits to Wyatt and it was none of his damn business anyway. She'd almost slapped him for referring to Flynn as a rebound. She still loved Wyatt and probably always would in some way, but he could be an arrogant ass. He chose Jessica, Rittenhouse loyalty aside, and Lucy was going to have to live with that and move on. He needed to let her.

Flynn's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Almost there," he muttered into her hair. They made it back to the Lifeboat with no other issues, no one stopping them other than some open, suspicious stares and loud whispers. Flynn was practically carrying her much to the dislike of Wyatt and shock of Rufus.

Wyatt tried feebly to take over helping Lucy once they were all inside safely, but a glower from Flynn had him glaring daggers back. "I've got her," Flynn said, and Wyatt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from starting a fight.

Yeah, he had it alright. Flynn strapped Lucy securely in her seat and kept trying to keep her awake. "The ride is going to be hell on that wound, but you need to stay awake and alert."

Lucy sucked in a sharp breath as a stab of pain lanced across her stomach. "I'm already beginning to feel that," she muttered and his face twisted like he was in pain too.

Flynn tried to cover up his emotions by putting a semblance of his unreadable mask back on, but his eyes bled for her as he took his seat and strapped in.

Wyatt watched him watch Lucy and didn't know how to feel about it, about them. He just wanted Lucy to be okay, damn it. He wanted them to be okay. He hated the tension that seemed to make a chasm between them and he was at a loss as to how to close the gap. He wanted her safe and happy. He loved her. He'd royally screwed up whatever chance he'd had with her and he knew it. But that sure as hell didn't mean he wanted her getting involved with Flynn. The man was wrong for Lucy. Hell. The man was wrong for anyone really. He was just literally the worst in Wyatt's opinion.

By the time they made it back to the bunker, Lucy was more unconscious than conscious, her head lolling to the side and her eyes continuing to close of their own accord. Wyatt and Flynn were taking turns giving her apprehensive glances. Flynn got more and more agitated, seeing her in distress and being unable to go to her. He was the first to get his seatbelt off the second they appeared back in their own time and was at her side in seconds.

"Lucy," Flynn said, putting a hand on the back of her neck and lifting her head up. His other hand deftly unbuckled her from the seat. Wyatt lingered just past Flynn's shoulder anxiously as Rufus shut off the time machine.

"Flynn," she gasped out, eyes fluttering. "It hurts."

The tears in her eyes and quiver in her voice were like shrapnel in his heart. "I know it hurts. I know. We'll get you fixed up in no time. Can you walk?"

She tried to move, groaned and thought better of it, shaking her head. Wyatt saw his opportunity. "I can carry you," he offered, aiming his suggestion at Lucy instead of Flynn but there was an edge to his voice and a challenge in his eyes that was aimed at the other man.

"No need," Flynn declared when it was obvious Lucy was uncomfortable, his tone pure steel as he slipped one arm behind her back and the other underneath her knees, lifting her up with ease. He no doubt could easily bench press three of her, but her pain-riddled mind was impressed none the less.

Wyatt scowled and moved quickly to open the hatch and Rufus was careful to stay out of the way, out of their weird ass love triangle – square thing. Whatever the hell kind of thing it was. He was doing his best to ignore it. If anything since he'd died and come back, things had only gotten more awkward and more complicated between Wyatt and Lucy. And now freaking Garcia Flynn was in the mix too? When the hell had that happened? Rufus hadn't missed Flynn's psycho panic attack/freak out when Lucy had been stabbed. Were they absolutely sure Flynn hadn't loosened some screws in that thick head of his? Rufus wasn't so sure.

Agent Christopher, Jiya and Connor were waiting when Flynn came out of the machine with Lucy in his arms and Wyatt and Rufus right behind. "What the hell happened? Is she okay?" Agent Christopher demanded, her face tightening and her mouth pinching as she saw the state of their beloved historian.

Connor and Jiya's gazes both automatically slid to Rufus, unconsciously checking to make sure he was alright. Jiya stepped closer so she could get a better look at Lucy and her face shuddered in worry and pain.

"Rittenhouse bastards slashed Lucy with a knife," Rufus said, reaching for his girlfriend when she visibly flinched at his words.

"Oh my God," Jiya muttered as she pulled at the fabric gently so she could see the extent of the wound.

"How bad?" Agent Christopher wanted to know.

"We need to stitch this up, now," Flynn growled, like he couldn't believe they were standing around talking about it this long. Connor was already moving to grab the med kit and Flynn was setting Lucy carefully on the makeshift examination table.

Connor's face was grim as he handed the kit to Jiya. "We're out of topical anesthesia," he said, and Wyatt's head whipped around to glare at Agent Christopher. She was the team leader. She was supposed to be taking care of his team, damn it. Even Flynn looked unimpressed with this information.

Jiya winced and bit her lip. "I have the steadiest hand and strongest stomach," she said looking at Rufus who looked down. "I'll stitch her up. We'll have to use alcohol, that's all we have. It'll be better than nothing." She glanced at Connor who nodded and went to grab a bottle from his room.

Jiya set to work sterilizing the needle and putting on gloves. Connor returned with the alcohol, looking a little green like he was the one going to be stuck with a needle. "Someone will have to hold her down. This is going to hurt like a bitch."

Rufus and Connor excused themselves, not having the stomach to watch and not wanting to crowd Jiya or Lucy too much. Agent Christopher hovered off to the side out of the way, posture tense and face set in sharp lines. Flynn put his hands on Lucy's shoulders and Wyatt moved opposite him and grabbed her legs. Jiya rolled her eyes as the two men openly glared at each other. She tried not to be too annoyed.

Everyone's thoughts were dark as they remembered the infection Lucy had gotten a few months before from a mere small cut on her arm. No one was sure exactly what that might mean for this one. If her fever went as high as it did before she'd most likely need a hospital and they couldn't afford that kind of exposure.

Lucy hovered between coherent and incoherent, but she was lucid enough to know what was about to happen. "I'm starting now," Jiya warned unnecessarily and Lucy cried out when the needle broke through the skin and reached for the person closest to her which happened to be Flynn. She gripped his forearm in a vice hold, fingernails digging into the skin.

"Lucy, look at me," Flynn said, voice softer than anyone in the room had heard before. When she obeyed, he flashed a tender smile, careful of their audience. Especially Wyatt who was watching stonily. "You're doing great."

She tried to return a shaky smile but it came out as a grimace and she gasped again. "I bet..." she swallowed and tried again. "I bet future me would be a total badass right now and wouldn't even be flinching." A few tears rolled down her cheeks. "Not blubbering like a baby."

Wyatt's hands squeezed her ankles. "You're strong too, Lucy. Don't ever forget that, okay?" He said it with such sincerity and emotion that it made her want to cry harder. "I lo- like you just the way you are. The Lucy you are right now." He'd tripped over that dangerous, forbidden word and hoped she didn't notice.

Flynn definitely noticed but the only verbal engagement he gave was, "As much as it pains me to say, Wyatt's right." Wyatt, Jiya and Agent Christopher looked at him skeptically. He ignored them in favor of addressing Lucy. "You don't need to be her to be important," Flynn rumbled, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.

"Future me probably wouldn't have gotten herself stabbed...so I'd be more useful if I became her," she argued, but her words were slurring from pain and exhaustion.

Flynn studied her. "You are plenty useful now, but if it will make you feel better, I can train you to better defend yourself," he offered carefully.

Wyatt gave him the stink eye for that suggestion. "I could train you, Lucy."

Jiya clenched her jaw. "How about the both of you show us all how to defend ourselves. We could use the lessons."

"How about you all save this conversation for later when Lucy is feeling better," Agent Christopher said, but it was not a suggestion.

Wyatt and Flynn shut their mouths, but Wyatt continued to silently fume. He really wanted to deck Flynn in his freaking face, but he knew everyone in the bunker would have something to say about that. It didn't stop him from fantasizing though.

"Done," Jiya announced a while later, finishing up the ointment and bandage wrap around Lucy's stomach. "It's as good as it'll get without proper medical attention. I recommend rest, fluids, and pain meds. We won't know for a few more hours whether infection will set in or not. We need to make sure the wound stays clean and dry and bandages are changed every few hours. We'll need to keep a close eye on her."

"I'll watch her," Wyatt said at the same time Flynn said, "She can stay in my room."

"Like hell she will," Wyatt growled, hackles raised and ready for a fight.

"Well, certainly the last thing she needs is to be stuck alone in a room with you."

Lucy was literally in between them on the table as they argued. "You're one to talk you slippery son of a bitch. You're probably happy this happened just so you could find another way to manipulate her while she's weak," Wyatt spat out vindictively, even though he knew that wasn't true. Jiya watched them fight, totally nonplussed.

"Wyatt, that's enough!" Agent Christopher commanded.

"Happy?" Flynn repeated, looking like he'd been hit over the head with a brick. "She was almost killed. Some Rittenhouse scum tried to cut her to pieces and you think I'd rejoice in that?" He sounded like he was on the edge of a cliff and falling off. His eyes were glinting in a way that made even Agent Christopher nervous and his hands balled up tightly.

Lucy grabbed his wrist, halting whatever movement he'd been about to make. "Please don't fight," she pleaded weakly at Flynn. Her eyes slid over to Wyatt and she bit her lip. "It's okay, Wyatt. Most of my stuff is in his room so I'll stay in there." Her explanation was reasonable, but Wyatt still looked like he'd been struck.

"So, it's settled. Flynn will look after Lucy," Agent Christopher said diplomatically but she was giving Wyatt a hard stare as if daring him to object further. Wyatt clenched his jaw, shot both Agent Christopher and Flynn a glare, gave one last longing look to Lucy and then turned and stormed off.

Flynn needed no further invitation to leave and held out his hands in silent question to Lucy. She looked ready to pass out again, but nodded and accepted his help getting off the table. She bit her lip and swallowed the groan of pain the movement caused but she was glad to be standing on her feet, even if her body was sort of canting toward Flynn. She tried to smile to show them she really was okay.

"Thank you, Jiya," Lucy said, eyes watering as she was overwhelmed with warmth.

Jiya looked overcome with emotion too. "Of course, Luce. Don't make a habit of getting stabbed in the future, okay?" Her eyes were liquid and her chin quivered.

"I'll do my best." She watched Jiya excuse herself from their presence to find where Rufus had gone off to before glancing up at Flynn who was watching her.

"Get some rest, Lucy. We will debrief once you are feeling better," Agent Christopher said, with an extra look at Flynn as if to say 'you better take care of her'. He gave no outward knowledge that he understood but she knew her point had been made.

Flynn supported a good amount of her weight and let her set the pace back to his room that had kind of become hers too in the last two weeks. Half way there, she was practically being carried just from sheer exhaustion. Once Lucy made it to the bed, Flynn got the sleepwear and laid it next to her.

"I'm going to grab the pain meds and some water. Will you be okay for a moment?" He asked, and she knew what he was really saying. He was giving he time to get dressed privately without him breathing down her neck, but at the same time offering assistance if she truly needed it.

"Yes, thank you," she said softly, taking it as the friendly offer that it was and nothing more. They had perfected this platonic dance of theirs in the recent weeks and they were really good at knowing exactly what the other needed.

Somewhere along the way he became her safe person, the one she trusted and depended on the most. He understood her and continued to somehow be the easiest person to talk to. He was strength and stability in an otherwise tumultuous time. They shared both pain and passion, grief and grit when it came to those they loved the most. It was an impossible pill to swallow that they might never get their families back, that they might remain fractured forever.

She dressed slowly and held in every gasp of pain that she could while she suspected he lingered just outside the door, giving her a semblance of dignity. He knocked before he entered once she was done, coming in with the meds and a glass of cool ice water. He handed them to her, his eyes watching her intently as she swallowed the pills down. "How are you feeling?" he asked her, voice unbelievably soft.

"Like I got stabbed," she muttered, but her tone was light and without sting. "But I'll live."

"You'd better," he said, equally light but there was underlining sincerity that she appreciated. He leaned over her and touched the back of his large hand to her forehead and frowned. "You're a little warm."

His eyebrows pulled together and he touched his tongue to his top lip. Flynn pulled back the sheet and gestured for her to slide in. "You should get some rest. I'll wake you in a little bit to check your temperature. Drink the rest of that and I'll get you some more. Hydration will help your body heal."

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, knowing this was the only bed since Agent Christopher had yet to bring another cot to the base. He needed to sleep too, considering she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him take more than a nap in the last few days.

He smiled down at her, his hand almost seeming to reach for her on its own accord before he caught himself. "I'll be in the chair so I can keep an eye on you."

She frowned. "That chair is tiny and your...not. You won't be able to rest well in it. Go get some sleep on the couch. I'll be fine for a little while."

"I'm not going to leave you alone. There's still a possibility of infection and if that happens it's crucial that I catch it early," he said firmly, resolution in his tone as he watched her drink the water.

Lucy didn't know why she said it and she was definitely going to blame this on the pain killers later. "Flynn, can I ask you something without making it too weird?"

He inclined his head, green eyes calm and curious. "Will you lay with me?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Lay with you? Right now?" He sounded thrown by her question but not upset or uncomfortable.

She swallowed the last of the water and set the glass back on the table. "I'm not...I don't want to make this awkward...I just want to be held." Her face flushed because that wasn't embarrassing at all to admit. "You'd know if I was getting a fever easier," she added lamely.

Flynn was always so cautious with her, so careful of her space, so careful to toe a safe line and make sure she was comfortable. He studied her now, seeming to decide if her comfort now was worth the risk of overstepping a line. The sheer amount of emotions that flashed through his eyes threatened to overwhelm her. He felt very strongly about everything and it seemed he felt very strongly about this.

He glanced down at his period clothes and then back at her, his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I'll ...uh...go change into some different clothes really quick and get you some more water." She thought maybe she'd scared him off for a moment, but something about the way his gaze lingered told her he'd do as she asked.

It seemed she only closed her eyes for a second before she opened them to find him standing in front of the bed, a look of indecision on his face. She decided that she liked him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Lay with me, Flynn," she whispered and his face softened.

He very carefully climbed onto the cot and tried to maneuver his body so that he was curled around her back and nowhere near her injury. When he settled, she slowly moved closer until her head rested on his chest. He tensed for a moment before he relaxed, putting his arm by her head and the other at his side. "Is this okay?" he asked, and God love him, he sounded so unsure of himself and awkward.

"It's more than okay, Flynn. Thank you," she responded, her body slowly starting to give in to sleep. She was so tired and he was so solid and warm, it was intoxicating. She knew peace resting against his chest feeling him breathe and hearing his heart beat. Before she thought better of it, she searched for his hand by her leg and grasped it tightly.

Lucy drifted off then in the safety of his arms. She thought that she might have imagined feather light lips in her hair and whispered words, "Sleep well, Lucy."

… to be continued ...