Chapter 5

Be warned: There's a lot of French in this chapter...and while I do not speak French, google translate does, so any errors you see...blame on the fine folks who run that program. : ) I tried my darndest to make it clear what they were saying...or at least the implications of what it is they are saying for those of you non-French speakers who aren't able or don't want to look up every phrase...so hopefully, you will still get the gist of everything without too much trouble/frustration.

Happy Reading!

The last thing any of them wanted was to be anywhere near the men responsible for the massacre they had witnessed earlier that day, but as they were woefully outnumbered and without any further options, the best they could hope for was that their ready compliance would be met with, at least, some semblance of civility.

Their cooperation, however, was not rewarded with much kindness…particularly after the French soldiers found Wyatt's gun. They were pushed and shoved into a clearing where their hands were bound tightly by coarse rope that cut into their wrists. Lucy hissed out in pain as her small wrists were being wrapped, causing the axe-toting soldier to sidle his way up to her from behind, snaking his arms down the length of her own as he murmured in her ear, "Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, mon amour? Les cordes sont-elles trop serrées? Tu pourrais toujours rouler avec moi. Je vais m'assurer que tu ne t'enfuis pas. ''

Lucy flinched away from him with a look of disgust, something that was not lost on Wyatt who stood apart from them, seething as his own hands were being bound. He watched with growing anger as the man sniffed at her hair and ran his hands up her sides, but still, Lucy said nothing, choosing instead to huff out a breath of indignation and toss her head back resentfully. When the man pressed a kiss to Lucy's neck, however, Wyatt no longer gave a damn about good behavior, "Hey!" he shouted causing the man binding his hands to tighten his bonds so much they drew blood. The man harassing Lucy looked over at him with a sneer, but Wyatt wasn't the least bit intimidated, "That's right, asshole," he spat out, "I'm talking to you - get your damn hands off her."

"He doesn't speak English." Lucy muttered out of the side of her mouth.

"I don't care." Wyatt responded with an angry huff, his eyes never once leaving the man who was still groping Lucy at her sides.

"Ah….tu es un amant?" the soldier asked as he made his way from behind Lucy and positioned himself in front of her, looking from Wyatt to Lucy curiously. When she refused to respond, he wryly grinned at Wyatt, taking Lucy's chin in his hand, "Peut-être qu'on peut faire un arrangement? Sa liberté pour votre…coopéra tion?"

At that indecent proposal, Lucy visibly shuddered and wrenched her face out of his grip, her breath coming in short angry pants as she attempted to ward off anymore unwanted advances. Wyatt didn't need to speak French to know that Lucy was being propositioned, her entire body was tense, there was a strain in her face and the way she repeatedly attempted to wriggle herself away from the sonofabitch currently taking up residence in her personal space gave him all the hard evidence he needed to kick his ass all the way into the next century.

Lunging forward angrily, Wyatt drove his shoulder roughly into the man, knocking him to the ground. As he scrambled to his feet, Wyatt, though still bound, positioned himself in front of Lucy, roughly wrenching himself away from the many hands that were now grabbing at him in an attempt to subdue him. "Like I said," he gritted out furiously, "keep your damn hands off her."

Letting out a small chuckle, the soldier sneered, drew his pistol, and aimed it right at Wyatt's head, "Des derniers mots, mon ami?"

At that, Lucy pushed herself in front of Wyatt, "No!" she cried desperately shaking her head frantically as she attempted to recall her French, "Ne le tuez pas. C'est mon…mon…mon frere." She swallowed hard as the man kept his weapon aimed, "Nous sommes…"she cast a sideways glance at Rufus as she muttered, "missionaires."

She really harbored no real hope that they would actually believe that they were missionaries, wandering around in the middle of the woods…without so much as a pamphlet between them, let alone a Bible…still, it was worth a shot. This was the 18th century, after all, and spreading Christianity throughout the New World was just as important to the monarchs of Europe as exploiting the continent for its vast array of untapped resources and goods.

Just as suspected, however, the French soldiers didn't seem convinced either that Wyatt was her brother, as Lucy had claimed, or that they were wandering around in the middle of nowhere to spread the word of God. Laughing derisively at her, the French soldiers wrenched her away once more causing Wyatt to start forward angrily at them again, only to be held back this time by a two of their brothers in arms.

"Des derniers mots?" the French soldier asked again as Lucy struggled in vain to stand between him and Wyatt once more. Wyatt stared hard back at the man, half daring the sonofabitch to take the shot, half-wishing he hadn't acted out and left Lucy completely unprotected when the sound of approaching horses drew the attention of everyone in the clearing.

A distinguished looking officer accompanied by a younger soldier dismounted his horse amid a flurry of salutes and murmurs. "Que se passe-t-il?" he asked as he looked around at his men. As his eyes fell on a still struggling Lucy, he narrowed his eyes and commanded his men to let her go.

Taking her place in front of Wyatt once more, Lucy made a desperate attempt to plead their case to this man, who in all appearances, seemed to be their commander. "S'll vous plaît, Monsieur, vos hommes essaient de tuer mon frère. Il essayait juste de me protéger."she pleaded, ''Nous sommes missionnaires, nous nous reposons simplement sur notre voyage quand nous avons été attaqués par vos hommes.''

The commander raised his eyebrows and turned to his men, "C'est vrai? Avez-vous attaqué ces gens?"

A murmur of dissent arose from the French soldiers, all of them protesting Lucy's statement that they had been attacked as they were attempting to rest for the night. With a wave of his hand, the French commander settled the crowd and turned once more to Lucy with a thoughtful frown, "En effet?"

With a solemn nod, Lucy replied, 'Oui."

He looked at her doubtfully and motioned for his companion to come forward, which he did, carrying with him a large saddle bag that looked awfully familiar. Holding the bag, the French commander turned once more to Lucy, ''Ce sac a été retrouvé dans votre camp. Il contient des choses qui m'appartiennent." Lucy swallowed hard and cast an uneasy look towards Wyatt as he added, "Tu n'es pas plus que des voleurs."

Lucy frantically shook her head at the accusation, even though she realized that it was probably in vain, ''Nous ne sommes pas des voleurs."

"What's wrong?" Rufus muttered, but Wyatt, seeing the saddlebag filled with goods he had taken from the French camp, understood, "They know we stole from the camp." He muttered to Lucy, "Tell them we were lost…"

But his request to her was cut short by the French commander, who looked at Wyatt with renewed interest, "Vous ne parlez pas Français?" At Wyatt's blank expression, he raised his eyebrows and asked, "Anglais?"

"Is he asking me if I speak English or if I am English?" Wyatt muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"I don't think it matters much, man." Rufus breathed out weakly as the soldiers all raised their muskets at them. "They're gonna kill us either way."

But Lucy wasn't about to give up without a fight, "Je suis leur guide." she explained desperately, "Nous étions perdus, nous avions faim…"

Her desperate pleas, however, fell on deaf ears. They either didn't care or believe that they were lost and hungry…and really, why would they? They had been caught red-handed, it seemed, with a saddlebag filled with things from their camp. Wyatt had been seen fleeing the scene. The French commander shook his head grimly at her and nodded to the axe-toting soldier as he stepped away and tutted, "Savez-vous ce que nous faisons pour punir les menteurs?"

Without another word, Lucy was yanked roughly away from Wyatt with a knife held to her throat as the commander demanded to know the truth about what they had been doing in his camp.

Unfortunately, Lucy was the only one who could understand a word of what he was saying, but given that the edge of the knife was currently pressing into her throat, she was too terrified to utter another word. Seeing this, Wyatt lunged forward in alarm, "Hey! Leave her the hell alone! She didn't do anything!" Wyatt yelled out, "It was me, alright? I'm the one who took the supplies!"

"Espion?" the commander asked in interest, misunderstanding Wyatt's last word.

Wyatt looked to Lucy in confusion but she could only breathe out a helpless little whimper. "What…what does that mean?" he asked but no answer came. Instead, the soldiers lowered their muskets and Lucy was pushed roughly back to Wyatt and Rufus as the commander began barking orders to his men.

"Are they letting us go?" Wyatt asked hopefully, but Lucy shook her head at him despondently.

"No," she muttered despondently, "now they think we're spies."

"What? Why? Be…because of what I just said?" Wyatt asked incredulously. "Hey, listen," he called out to a French soldier, "we're not spies." He said with a shake of his head, "this has all been a big mistake."

As the French soldier sneered at him and walked away, Rufus leaned over and muttered, "I don't think they care, Wyatt."

Linked together by a length of rope, Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus were herded into the midst of the French soldiers and their horses, forced to march forward into the darkening night. "Any idea where they're taking us?" Wyatt muttered mechanically to Lucy.

Casting a wary glance towards him, she nodded offering him an ironic smirk, "To Fort Duquesne…to hang….most likely."

"Great." Wyatt spat out in disgust. "Just great." Why the hell had he left them alone? He knew neither one of them knew the first thing about the outdoors or convert operations…well, not like he was anyway. Lucy, of course, had acted the part of a Nazi secretary with Ian Fleming of all people, but it wasn't like she was trained to do that sort of thing. Even so, Lucy and Rufus were two of the most brilliant people he knew…so why the hell did they have to go and make a camp fire right after they had run for their damn lives? They knew they were supposed to be hiding…it didn't make any sense. Angry at himself, angry at the situation, Wyatt couldn't help but chastise them both, "You know, none of this would've happened if you would have just told me you were worried about this whole damn thing being a trap. Why the hell did you have to build that fire?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Rufus defended. "We just wanted to boil some water."

"Yeah, well a lot of good it's going to do you now." Wyatt retorted angrily.

They marched on for what felt like hours until Lucy, exhausted from the effort, began stumbling so much that Wyatt had to brace her up with his bound hands. He was just getting ready to call out to them to stop for Lucy's sake, when without warning, they did. Setting up camp, the French soldiers unburdened their horses and pitched tents all around the large clearing they now found themselves in. Grateful for a chance to rest, Lucy collapsed in a heap on the forest floor, too tired to care that she was still attached to Wyatt and Rufus, whose arms were both pulled down by her actions. Once their camp was assembled and their horses refreshed, the French turned their attention, finally, to their prisoners. Detaching them from the rope that pulled them all along, they were granted, at least, that small bit of independence.

The sneering soldier whom Wyatt had shoved, made his way to Lucy with a flagon of water, taking care to caress her face as he offered it to her. Angrily, she wrenched away from him once more as he chuckled and murmured, "Vous n'avez pas à souffrir, Mademoiselle. Viens boire un verre. Laisse-moi m'occuper de toi." Lucy, however, refused with an angry shake of her head. Wyatt glared at him…something that was not lost on the French soldier who sneered at him and announced loudly, "On ne la tuera peut-être pas. Ce serait une perte honteuse. Tu ne trouves pas?" He turned and looked at his fellow soldiers who cheered and laughed…but Wyatt wasn't looking at them…he was looking at Lucy, who flushed and turned her face away, obviously offended by whatever the asshole had said.

Seething with anger, Wyatt had to literally bite his tongue to keep from mouthing off to the sonofabitch who seemed duty-bound to harass Lucy. He couldn't risk another outburst…not now…not when Lucy and Rufus needed him to get them out of this mess, but it took all the self-control he had to not "accidentally" trip the jackass as he finally slunk away to join the rest of his fellow soldiers. Wyatt stared daggers at them as they muttered conspiratorially among themselves, in words he didn't understand…but could very well guess at in the way they kept casting devilish grins towards Lucy and breaking out in raucous laughter. He wasn't sure if Lucy was just trying to ignore what they were saying or if she really couldn't hear the comments being made, but he could tell she was far from comfortable…which, given the fact that they were tied up and awaiting a likely execution was hardly surprising…but for Lucy…

While they were all vulnerable to attacks and mistreatment, Lucy was even more so….and no one was more aware of it than she was. When Rufus finally succumbed to sleep, she shifted uncomfortably, casting nervous glances around her as she set her back against a tree and tucked her feet underneath her. Sitting up straight, Lucy shook off her own exhaustion looking absolutely determined to not let her guard down for a single minute.

As the soldiers slowly began retreating into their tents and the laughter from the camp gave way to grunts and snores, however, it became harder and harder for Lucy to fight off the overwhelming lure of sleep. Despite her obvious exhaustion, Wyatt noted, with more than a little bit of awe, she was putting up one hell of a fight. Her head would droop for only a moment before she would forcefully shake herself and press her back more firmly against the tree, attempting to stay in control, stay alert. Wyatt wanted to give her some kind of assurance, but he knew he couldn't, when his hands were literally tied and they were so grossly outnumbered. Instead, he just watched her silently as she continued to battle with herself, desperately trying to fight off the overwhelming lure of sleep until finally, her head drooped down to her chest and stayed there, her deep and steady breathing driving the point home that she had finally succumbed. Wyatt sighed heavily and inched himself closer to her, resolved that if she couldn't stay awake, he would…just in case.

As the early rays of dawn stretched their way across the sky, the sound of a horse whinny caused Lucy to dart her head upwards with a gasp, only to find Wyatt sitting cross-legged beside her staring hard at the soldiers moving around the camp. "Morning." he muttered mechanically without drifting his gaze.

"Morning." she rasped out, her throat feeling absolutely parched, "I must have dozed off" she added almost apologetically. Wyatt only grunted in assent; too preoccupied by his thoughts to be very communicative. She glanced around the camp, noting with some confusion that there were fewer tents dotting the campsite than there had been the previous evening.

Wyatt, seeing the look on her face as she scanned the clearing in front of them, explained, "A group of them left just before dawn…don't worry," Wyatt added with a sneer, "your boyfriend is still here."

Lucy let out an exasperated sigh at the thought of spending another day warding off the advances of that man. "What a relief." she muttered sarcastically before turning to Wyatt and asking, "How…how long have you been awake?"

"Didn't sleep." came Wyatt's muttered response.

"Oh." Lucy said again in surprise, her voice filled with shame. Of course, Wyatt's didn't sleep. He had been betrayed again by the two people he was supposed to be able to trust...and that broken trust had now led to their capture. As Wyatt had said the night before, if they would have just been honest with him and told him about Flynn they wouldn't be in this mess. She wanted to apologize, to tell him how grateful she was for him and how much he had done for them over the past three days, but Rufus grunted awake and immediately made their already bad situation, worse.

"Oh hell…I was half hoping I would wake up and find out last night was just a bad dream...but nope, still in the suck fest that is the 18th century. I don't think I've had a good night's sleep since 2016."

Already seeing Wyatt losing his patience, Lucy interjected, 'Well, you know…Wyatt didn't sleep at all, so be grateful for the sleep you did get."

"Oh, is that so?" Rufus asked, surprised by the revelation since Wyatt had given him such a hard time that first night, "I thought you could sleep anywhere, Wyatt?"

"Maybe I didn't want to sleep." Wyatt snapped back, "Maybe I was just enjoying the peace and quiet."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Wyatt hissed, "that maybe you need to shut up every once in a while and let me think. I gotta figure out a way to get us out of this mess, that you incidentally, got us in."

"Me? Maybe if you hadn't run off in the middle of the night, you would have been around to tell us not to start a fire."

"Oh my God, Rufus…you're a damn engineer, Lucy's a professor, I thought between the two of you you'd realize that the first thing you do when you're hiding is not give away your damn location! Didn't you two ever play hide and seek as kids?"

Rufus made to argue with him again, but Lucy had had enough, "Will you two just stop? she hissed. "We're not going to make this situation any better by…" Lucy's voice trailed off as the French soldiers began cooking up a hearty breakfast. The aroma wafting towards them was maddening and her stomach ached with hunger.

"Now that is just cruel and unusual punishment, right there" Rufus moaned. "Any chance they'll share that with us?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath." Wyatt muttered out as his own stomach rumbled.

Lucy couldn't help but silently agree with Wyatt. The French had gone to no great lengths to make them comfortable the night before, and while she was offered something to drink from her "boyfriend" as Wyatt had called him, Rufus and Wyatt had basically been ignored. That's why it came to no surprise to her that when the officer from the night before emerged from his tent, he informed the French soldiers that the "English spies should be given no food." There was no point to it, really…since as he said, "they would soon be hanging from the trees."

So…it was official…they were going to be hung as English spies.

The French officer mounted his horse, informing his men that he would ride forward to Ft. Duquense so that the gallows could be prepared for their prisoners. Taking two other soldiers with him, Lucy, Rufus and Wyatt were now only guarded by three….one of whom, was unfortunately, the man who had caused Lucy so much grief over the past few hours. Watching him ride away, Lucy gasped at a sudden realization, "I think that's Captain Louis Coulon…he..he was the only man Washington ever surrendered to…"

"No." spat out Wyatt angrily. "No, history. Not right now."

Lucy gaped at him, hardly believing he was doing this to her again, especially after all that had passed the previous evening, "I thought you'd want to…you know what?" she said as she clenched her eyes shut in frustration, "forget it. I know the situation is not ideal…"

"Not ideal is having French fries without ketchup" complained Rufus. "This has been three days of trudging through the mud…"

"And whose fault is that?" muttered Wyatt under his breath.

"…bitten by bugs I can't identify, eating meat I don't want to identify…'

'Three days of listening to you whine." Wyatt spat out angrily.

"Come on you two." Lucy admonished. "I don't like it either, but if we don't; work together we're never going to get out of this."

"Yeah," Wyatt scoffed derisively, "We're really working together. You two keeping secrets left and right, Rufus recording us for Rittenhouse…"

"Really G.I. Joe?" Rufus snapped at him angrily, "Did you or did you not tell me to be a double agent? 'Keep recording the missions, Rufus' you said but now…now, you have a problem with it?" Rufus shook his head, "Give me a break. You're just pissed because your big hero move last night got us into more trouble than we were already in."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Wyatt snarled.

"It means that if you wouldn't have been over here defending Lucy's honor then maybe we could have gotten some damn breakfast this morning! I mean, what the hell did you think would happen? That you'd be able to go all Delta Force on these jerks and they would just leave us alone?"

Wyatt stared hard at Rufus, wanting nothing more than to kick his ass all the way back to 2016, but upon seeing Lucy's "boyfriend" make eyes at her once more as he made his way out of his tent, Wyatt leaned over to Lucy and muttered conspiratorially, "How do you say "I had sex with your mother' in French?"

Lucy gaped at him, "You don't." she spat out in annoyance, "unless you are trying to get us killed right now."

"I'm trying to do my job." Wyatt stated meaningfully.

Lucy sighed. Rufus had obviously hit a nerve. Wyatt had been reckless the night before, she wasn't going to deny it, even if Wyatt wouldn't admit it, but she also wouldn't deny that she was grateful for that recklessness last night…even if it did put them into worse circumstances. She looked back at him, Wyatt's piercing gaze asking her silently to trust him and…well, what could she do? They were in this mess because they hadn't trusted Wyatt enough to tell him about Rittenhouse, the journal and their suspicions about Flynn…if she was ever going to earn his trust and friendship back, she knew that she was going to have to prove that what she meant after the Alamo mission was true; She trusted Wyatt, he made the right decision every time and there was absolutely no one else who could take his place. Relenting, Lucy leaned towards him and whispered, "J'ai couché avec ta mère." and Wyatt couldn't help but raise his eyebrows to the sky.

It should not have thrilled him…given the situation they were in…to hear Lucy's voice whispering dirty French phrases in his ear, but…it did. It wasn't the subject matter, though he had to admit he was more than a little impressed that straight-laced Lucy Preston wasn't so straight-laced after all...she could have recited the damn phone book and it probably would have elicited the same response….no, it was the intimacy. Her breath on the shell of his ear, the low, secretive and sultry sound of her voice sent his brain straight to the gutter…exactly where it did not belong.

This was Lucy. His team mate. The bossy know-it-all who got bent out of shape over historically inaccurate underwear. Historically inaccurate underwear that he bit through with his teeth…

Dammit.

Wyatt didn't want to dwell on why something as simple as a whisper, knocked him for a loop…particularly in regards to Lucy…Lucy, the woman he couldn't trust…Lucy, the woman who was having secret side chats throughout history with Garcia Flynn… Lucy who was not and never could be as important to him as Jessica. He had a job to do, dammit, and well, he couldn't focus on her…even if part of the reason he was doing this was so that he could properly beat the shit out of the French soldier who had groped her the night before.

Rolling away from Rufus…and more importantly, Lucy, Wyatt eyed his prospects…fortunately two of the soldiers were busying themselves in the camp, taking down tents, packing up gear, completely oblivious to the three of them. Unfortunately, the asshole from the night before was not among them; he had apparently gone off to relieve himself. Figuring it was more important to get freed than to get revenge, Wyatt called out to the soldier closest to him, "Hey Pierre! J'ai couché avec ta mère."

Lucy watched as the soldier, offended and stunned, picked up his musket and pointed his bayonet directly at Wyatt. She was just beginning to regret her part in all of this when Wyatt used the bayonet to slice through his bonds and began…as Rufus put it…to go "full Delta Force on the French soldiers."

If she and Rufus hadn't been impressed with Wyatt's prowess before, they definitely were now. Warding off attacks with bayonets, axes and old-fashioned fists, Wyatt managed to gain the upper hand, though he was, himself, unarmed…something he soon remedied the moment he got close enough to their confiscated personal effects. He had just managed to get his hand on his gun when both soldiers came charging at him again. With lightning quick reflexes, Wyatt brought both of them down with two quick shots, sighing in relief and exhaustion as he sat back on his haunches and tossed his gun aside.

That relief, however, was short-lived.

No sooner had he made his way over to Lucy and Rufus in an attempt to untie their hands then the crack of gunfire rent the air. Gasping in pain, Wyatt gripped his arm as he spun around to find the French soldier, the very one he despised, charging into view, the still smoking flintlock pistol tossed to the side as he raced towards Wyatt. The two men collided in a flurry of fists and curses, grappling with each other as each tried to gain the upper hand. Wyatt, now injured, was at a bit of a disadvantage…something the French soldier was all too ready to exploit by pummeling his arm repeatedly until Wyatt was groaning in agony.

Lucy scrambled over to the bayonet Wyatt had used to cut his own bonds and began using it to work on her own; frantically moving her wrists back and forth over the blade until finally, she was free. Rufus, seeing her efforts, quickly began work on his own, both of them desperate to help Wyatt who was clearly in a lot of pain.

Tripping on her many skirts, Lucy stumbled onto the forest floor as she attempted to make a grab for Wyatt's discarded gun. As the two men grappled beside her she reached out and had just put her hand around the grip when she was suddenly grabbed roughly around the waist and hauled into the air. A rough hand was around her throat as the other sought for Wyatt's weapon which she now firmly grasped in her hand.

BANG

Wyatt ducked down as the gun went off, the bullet hitting a tree right next to him. "Lucy! Get your finger off the trigger!" he yelled out as yet another shot rang out.

"Holy shit!" Rufus cried as he fell to the ground, holding his head in his hands, the last bullet having whizzed by his ear. Both he and Wyatt were ducking for cover as Lucy desperately fought off the soldier. He now had both hands around Lucy's dainty wrist, clawing and twisting at her hand, until her death grip on the gun began to loosen. Seeing an opportunity as the French soldier's attention was now fully concentrated on the gun he was slowly prying away from Lucy, Wyatt rammed into him from the side, knocking both he and Lucy to the ground. As Lucy wriggled herself away, Wyatt clambered on top of the soldier, keeping him from making another grab at Lucy as she shakily got to her feet, still holding the gun.

Pounding Wyatt in the arm again, the Frenchman regained the upper hand, now pinning Wyatt to the ground. Shaking, Lucy aimed the gun at the soldier's back, turning her head and closing her eyes as she went to squeeze the trigger, but Rufus quickly forced her arms down. "What the hell are you doing? You could hit Wyatt!" he exclaimed desperately. "Here…let me…" Rufus muttered as he scanned the camp frantically. Spying the frying pan the soldiers had used that morning, he picked it up and swung it towards the soldier's head, knocking him sideways off of Wyatt who quickly scrambled to his feet, grabbed his gun from Lucy's trembling hand and shot the Frenchman before he could come at them again.

"Tres bien, you son of a bitch" Wyatt growled as he wiped the sweat off his brow and nursed his arm.

"Well," Rufus observed, "I gotta say…you've got us out of some tight spots before, Wyatt…but that was pretty damn impressive."

Wyatt however, was not about to respond to what he considered a lame kiss up move from Rufus…especially after their back and forth that morning. He had just rolled his eyes and turned away from Lucy and Rufus when Lucy gaped at the sight of his bloodied sleeve.

"Oh my God, Wyatt." she exclaimed, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." was his gruff reply. Peeling back the ripped fabric he shrugged, "Just a graze…nothing that can't be patched up in five minutes once we get back to Mason." He looked around at the camp, "Gather up some supplies…we still have one hell of a long walk before we get back to the LifeBoat." He made his way over to a small stump and began rolling up the sleeve of his injured arm, pausing slightly as he noticed Lucy hovering over him. "Can I help you?"

"Are…are you sure you're okay?" she asked meekly as she continued to eye his bloodied sleeve.

"I told you," Wyatt sighed, "I'm fine…just…just help Rufus gather up the supplies." he added impatiently

"You're going to need help wrapping that." Lucy said as she swallowed hard. "Just…just give me a second." Despite Wyatt's protests, Lucy ran to the tents and began looking through the soldier's belongings, emerging moments later with a small circular box. "Found one." She exclaimed triumphantly as she knelt down next to Wyatt.

"Found one of what?" he asked warily.

"An 18th century first aid kit." she muttered as she unclasped the lid and began looking at the small vials filled with different liquids.

"Um…Lucy…do you think you should be messing around with that stuff?" Wyatt asked nervously, "I mean, they didn't know about…ya know…regular medicine back then…right?

"Mmmm…not exactly…but desperate times calls for desperate measures…" Lucy murmured as she lifted bottle after bottle squinting as she read the narrow handwriting on the labels.

"This isn't a desperate time, Lucy." Wyatt reminded her, "We'll be at Mason by the latest, tomorrow morning."

"When you were shot in 1865, you could barely walk by the time we got back to Mason and that was just hours." she countered as she uncorked a small bottle.

"That was different, that was…hey!" Wyatt flinched away from the bottle Lucy had had pressed against his arm, the orange liquid stinging painfully as it worked its way into his wound. 'What the hell is that stuff?"

"Iodine." Lucy said simply as she began wrapping his arm with strips of muslin cloth dipped in more odorous liquid. "It's probably the best antiseptic you'll find in the 18th century."

Wyatt watched her as her nimble fingers worked to secure the bandage, feeling at once irritated that she insisted on helping him when he was angry with her and grateful that after he had been such an ass…an ass with good reason, he thought…and yet, she still wanted to help him. Scoffing slightly, he asked, "I thought you fainted at the sight of blood?"

Lucy stilled her work, glancing up at Wyatt briefly before shrugging, "Well, what can I say?" she said grimly, "After everything we've seen in the past few months...I'm getting used to it." She replaced the cork on the bottle of iodine, placed it back in its tiny compartment and closed the lid of the medical kit, before standing up and announcing, "Alright…well…now you're all patched up…at least the best I can do anyway."

"It's fine." Wyatt said dismissively. As Lucy turned to walk away, he rolled his eyes and called out, "Thanks…for you know…this." he said with a nod towards his arm.

Lucy smiled slightly, "Sure…and thank you for…you know…everything." she muttered quietly. Wyatt merely nodded slowly, before an awkward silence fell between them, both unable to meet the other's eye. "I think I'll um….keep this" Lucy finally said as she motioned to the first aid kit, "just in case. We still have a long walk, right? Better to be prepared? I mean, who knows what else we'll find out here?"

"Just make sure we have a damn map." Wyatt called after her as he rolled his sleeve back down. After slipping on his jacket, Wyatt noted that he only had one magazine left…and after the excitement of that morning, he knew he only had two bullets left in the clip currently in his gun. Lucy was right, it was better to be prepared…who knew what they would run into over the next few hours? After killing these soldiers, he was pretty sure that might cause them to be on somebody's shit list…and well, he wasn't about to take any more chances. Taking a dagger, a flintlock pistol, ammunition, and a few provisions, Wyatt tucked them all in the saddle he had stolen the previous night and slung it over his shoulder, "You two ready?" he asked as Lucy and Rufus emerged from the two tents still standing.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Rufus admitted, "why…um…why can't we take the horses again?"

"Because," Wyatt sighed in frustration, "we'll be spotted easier if we're on horseback."

"Yeah, but we'd get to the LifeBoat quicker…I mean, isn't that the goal?" Rufus asked, "To get the hell out of here?"

"It will be easier and quicker to get to the LifeBoat if we don't draw unnecessary attention to ourselves." Wyatt admonished. "You want to ride off into the sunset? Be my guest…but if we've got to hide, there's no way in hell anybody who's looking for us won't spot a white horse in the middle of the damn forest."

"I see your point." Rufus said with a curt nod. "It doesn't mean I have to like it…but I see your point. So…how much further do we have to walk, you think?"

"I don't know Rufus…" Wyatt sighed as he looked at the map, "maybe about 20 miles? We covered a lot of ground last night, so we should be a hell of a lot closer than we were."

"Yeah, but…"

"Rufus, we've got a long way to go." Wyatt warned him, "You can stand here and complain all day, but the longer we stand here, the longer it's gonna take us to get home…and I don't know about you, but I really don't want to spend one more night in this hellhole, do you?"

Without hesitation, Rufus adamantly shook his head, "No…no…I…I want to go home." he assured him. "The 18th century sucks."

"Alright then," Wyatt replied as he looked at Lucy and Rufus, "let's go home."

Notes:

Originally I had planned on making this chapter a little longer...ending it where they realize they are trapped/stranded...but as I worked out this chapter and the next one, I thought it just flowed better ending it here. Yes, you are still seeing some familiar scenes here and there - that, as I said, will continue from time to time...but this story is absolutely its own so when I do veer off from what we know or change it up a bit, please know that it is purposefully done and not because I "messed up" or didn't "get something right" from the episode. In trying to make this narrative work, I had to make some changes to canon because it just made no sense otherwise...the logistics, the timeline, even some of the history presented in the show doesn't jive with the actual historical record...so you know, nerd that I am...I have to fix that.

I hope you enjoyed this update...I am SO SO SO SO SO close to finishing WMHB...as I said before these last few chapters are pretty complex and so I'm just going over everything with a fine tooth comb. I hope to have that updated for you *soon* That said, I'm going to be out of town this weekend and possibly some of next week - we have an EXTREMELY busy summer ahead of us, so please bear with me as I try to juggle our schedule, travels and these updates.

I appreciate your reading and your patience!