How the hell did he get into this mess?
Wyatt paced nervously outside of John Fraser's home as scores of people he did not know filed into the front door and into the elaborate drawing room beyond.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Wyatt figured, when he proposed to Lucy, that at worst they would have a small little "wedding" ceremony with maybe just Rufus and Tom as witnesses and that would be it. They would fulfill what was expected and required of them and be on their way. At best, he thought that perhaps he could convince Lucy to "elope" with him and they would return as "husband" and "wife" and no one would be the wiser.
John Fraser and Colonel McKee, however, had had other plans…and it had all come to a head the previous evening.
"I hope you don't mind," Colonel McKee announced as he poured out some wine for himself after dinner, "but I have taken the liberty to write to a minister friend of mine from Philadelphia and as it turns out, he'll be arriving tomorrow. If you aren't opposed," he added with a raise of his glass towards Lucy and Wyatt, "he can have the two of you married before supper."
Choking on her own glass of wine, Lucy turned to a pale looking Wyatt who stammered out nervously, "Well, Lucy…Lucy and I were just…I mean, you didn't have to go through all that trouble…"
"Oh, it was no trouble at all!" Colonel McKee assured. "Happy to do it…I'd say you two have waited long enough, no sense in putting it off any longer now that you have a home to call your own, now is there?"
Unable to come up with any reasonable explanation as to why they couldn't get married in less than 24 hours, Wyatt sucked down the whiskey he had been drinking and exchanged an uneasy glance with an equally mortified looking Lucy. Yes, they had both understood that this was the best course of action for them in this era…but they had technically only been "engaged" for two days…and well, everything was happening way too fast.
Things did not improve as the night wore on.
Wyatt had taken to sleeping in the cabin, on his own, since he had begun the repairs. True, some nights he had still come back to the Fraser house for rest, late in the evenings, but more often than not, he found himself too tired to make the trek back and therefore curled up in a coarse blanket by his very own fireplace. He had every intention of doing the same thing that evening, feeling it was only fitting since it would be his last opportunity to have the house all to himself, when he was suddenly cornered and whisked away up the stairs by Mrs. Fraser and the ever-infuriating Mrs. Poe.
No amount of arguing, thinly veiled threats, or outright demands would cease the two women in their work, and so finally, Wyatt succumbed to what they insisted was a necessary tradition…though he could not imagine what maniac had come up with something so barbaric and asinine. Once done, they wished him a pleasant evening…he, however, did not return the sentiment as he lay there, absolutely humiliated, waiting for the inevitable…
"Oh my God."
A nightgown clad Lucy had stumbled into the room, candle in hand, staring open-mouthed at Wyatt, lying on her bed, stuffed and sewn into a burlap sack.
"Don't say it." Wyatt warned, refusing to even look at her.
"You know," Lucy teased as she attempted, but failed to stifle a giggle, "if I had my phone right now, this would be all over Instagram."
"I swear to God, Lucy if you say a word about this to Rufus…
My lips are sealed." Lucy assured, desperately trying to keep from laughing, "although…"
"Dammit, Lucy!" Wyatt grunted as he tried, but failed to squirm up to a seated position, "You say one word and I will roll myself right out that window."
"You'd have to open it first…" Lucy teased with a serious nod, "and seeing as you are tied up at the moment…" Wyatt breathed out a curse as he jammed his head back on the bed, wiggling furiously in an attempt to break free of his bonds. Clearing her throat as she pursed her traitorous lips together, Lucy set her candle down on the nightstand and took in the scene before her. Wyatt, red-faced, was staring up at the ceiling, looking murderous. It was clear to her that there must have been a struggle, pillows were strewn all over the room, the blankets on the bed were a tangled mess, the pewter water pitcher from her dry sink had toppled to the floor next to his jacket and shoes. "I see you didn't go down without a fight." Lucy noted with a quirked lip.
Wyatt scoffed as he continued to fight against the confines of his sack, "What the hell kind of tradition is this anyway?" he gritted out. "I thought these self-righteous jackasses didn't believe in this kind of stuff? Can't see the bride before the wedding and all of that?"
"It's called bundling." Lucy replied as she straightened up the room. "People used to do it for all sorts of reasons…She sighed as she placed the pitcher back on the dry sink, "If men and women who weren't married were ever forced to stay in a room together…"
"Don't look at me, I was trying to go sleep in my own damn bed!" Wyatt spat out as he twisted in his bundling bag once more.
Ignoring him, Lucy continued, "…but in the 18th century, there weren't many inns…when people traveled they often stayed in other people's homes. Bed sharing was common and so bundling was something of a necessity so that…people could still get a good night's sleep without, you know…anything happening."
"You think I'm going to get a good night's sleep?" Wyatt asked her incredulously, "Lucy, I'm in a potato sack. I can't even move my damn arms."
"Well, it was also used as a courtship ritual." Lucy explained, refusing to look at Wyatt, "it was a way for couples to spend some time alone together without…you know…getting into mischief."
Raising his eyebrows, Wyatt scoffed, "So you're telling me that sewing people up in sacks is how people dated in 1754?"
"No." Lucy grunted as she pulled the tangled covers from underneath Wyatt's bound body and spread them out over the bed, "but it wasn't very common for two courting people to get much time alone…young ladies were expected to go out with a chaperone. So, bundling," Lucy explained, "was a way for them to talk without someone else hanging on every word they said."
"And they did this every night?"
"Not every night…but for special occasions if say…you and I were in a normal relationship…and it was Christmas and you happened to be staying over at my house…"
"Or were just about to get married." Wyatt muttered in a low, dismal tone.
"Yeah, that too." Lucy agreed quietly as she sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling a renewed sense of trepidation over their impending nuptials. Like Wyatt, this latest revelation had thrown her for a bit of a loop. It wasn't so much the idea of living with Wyatt, pretending to be a happily married couple, that had her so anxious. She was sure that despite the roles they were being forced to play, they would be able to carry on as usual…well, as usual as it had been since they landed in this century, anyway. Things would most certainly be awkward given the circumstances, but they were both adults and professionals...there was no reason why living together would change any of that.
This was about survival…not about anything else.
Living with Wyatt too, meant that she wouldn't be under the constant and watchful eye of one Mrs. Poe whose daily reminders that she was inevitably on her way to Hell made her almost grateful that they were getting married sooner rather than later.
Almost.
Obviously in order to be married, they had to go through a wedding…and Lucy, for all her internal resolve that she could and would maintain a professional relationship with Wyatt despite her own feelings, knew that if there was any one time in this whole ordeal that her heart might be exposed for what it truly was…this would be it. Between exchanging vows that to him, would mean nothing (and really, should mean nothing to her) and having to endure the congratulations and well-wishes of people who were none the wiser, she wasn't sure if she would be able to keep herself from getting caught up in…all of this.
But she had to.
Wyatt had made it more than abundantly clear that he would never, could never…even if they were stuck here for the rest of their lives, ever betray the memory of his dead wife.
She understood that, to a point.
Losing Amy, Lucy knew the pain, the guilt, the anger, that accompanied her erasure. She blamed Flynn. She blamed Mason. She blamed Homeland Security. She blamed herself, of course…because if she had never stepped foot in that time machine…
But she had, and Amy was gone…and while she held out some vague hope that even if she never were to get back to 2016, Agent Christopher would make good on her promise and restore her sister, Wyatt had no such hope…no such promise. For him, being stranded here meant that any chance he might have had to either save his wife or bring her murderer to justice, was essentially gone…and now, to add insult to injury…he was being forced to marry someone he did not and could not ever love.
Yes, she cared for Wyatt…and yes, he had admitted that he cared about her…but to hope that anything more would come out of this arrangement was only setting herself up for heartache and humiliation.
She had to keep it together.
"You okay?"
"Huh?" Lucy startled. "Yeah, I'm…I'm fine." she sighed as she stepped out of her slippers. "Just thinking about tomorrow."
"Yeah." Wyatt said shortly. "Listen..." he said after a short pause, "I'm sorry about the whole surprise wedding thing…I should've told him that we would figure out something ourselves…"
"It's okay, Wyatt." Lucy sighed turning slightly to look at him. "I think it's best if we just get it over with…don't you?"
Wyatt frowned thoughtfully and shrugged, though the gesture was hardly discernable from the confines of the sack. "I guess you're right." he sighed, "no use dragging this out. The sooner we get the hell out of this house, the sooner we can stop having to put on this ridiculous act." he added with another rough squirm against his bundling bag.
Lucy knew he was in an understandably bad mood, confined as he was…and yes, this whole thing was ridiculous…but given that she was already feeling awful for putting Wyatt through so much guilt and…well, humiliation, his words stung a little bit more than they probably would have normally. Not wanting to risk him seeing the hurt in her face, she quickly blew out the candle and clambered into bed beside him, accidentally kicking him as she tucked legs under the covers.
"Sorry." she muttered…for more than just the inadvertent strike.
Wyatt merely grunted in response and shifted further away from her.
The darkness did not serve to lessen the awkwardness of their current situation, instead, it seemed only to heighten it. Yes, they had slept beside one another countless times, particularly over the last few weeks…but they had always been accompanied by Rufus. Now, as they lay side by side, in the same bed, on the eve of their wedding, tension seemed to fill every inch, every nook and cranny, of that nearly pitch black room.
Perhaps their uneasiness wouldn't have been quite so apparent if the silence wasn't so deafening. It was as if both of them had decided to stop breathing. Not a grunt, a sigh nor a shaky breath escaped either of them…and both of them too, seemed to be reluctant to move, afraid, it seemed that to do so would either disrupt the silence or make the other all the more aware of the other's presence.
Wyatt, however, uncomfortable for more reasons than just sharing an actual bed with Lucy, could not stay silent and still for long. Letting out a frustrated grunt he desperately fought against the confines of his sack, cursing when it still did not give way. "How the hell am I supposed to sleep in this damn thing?"
"I don't think you're meant to sleep." Lucy sighed, sitting up in bed, "I mean, come on, Wyatt…if we were…you know, actually a couple…sleep wouldn't exactly be high on our priority list the night before our wedding…"
Though she couldn't see Wyatt's face, Lucy had a hunch he had just rolled his eyes by the exasperated huff that escaped him as he gritted out angrily, "I don't know, if we were actually getting married, I think I'd be having second thoughts if your family stuffed me in a damn sack… maybe this was their idea of a shotgun wedding. Groom couldn't very well leave the bride at the altar if you've got the poor bastard sewn to the damn bed."
Feeling even worse, Lucy desperately tried to help Wyatt get more comfortable. Blindly she reached out for him in the dark, attempting to pull at the bundling bag in an attempt loosen it, but her efforts were met with even more frustration on Wyatt's end when she wound up accidentally hitting his nose.
"Ow! What the hell, Lucy?"
"I'm sorry!" she hissed, "I was just trying to…do you have a knife or something to cut this with?"
"If I had a knife, I wouldn't be in this mess to begin with." he spat out. "Do you honestly think I would've let them do this to me if I had any means to defend myself?"
"Like you would have pulled a knife on an elderly housekeeper." Lucy scoffed in disbelief, "Wyatt, you had a gun and Judith Campbell got the best of you in Vegas."
"Hey, she hit me from behind." he gritted out defensively "How the hell was I supposed to know she was going to double cross us?"
Rolling her eyes, Lucy went back to work on trying to assist Wyatt. Her fumbling fingers tugged and yanked at the coarse fabric, but still, it would not budge…much to Wyatt's great frustration. "Will you…just stop, okay?"
"Wyatt," Lucy sighed in frustration, "it's not like this is easy for me eith…"
"What the hell did they stitch this damn thing up with?" he spat out as he kicked violently against the sack before collapsing back onto the bed. "Dammit, they aren't messing around, are they?"
Lucy let out a scoff, "If Mrs. Poe had anything to do with it, she probably stitched that thing up five times over…just to be sure."
"Like she needed to do that." Wyatt grunted out in exasperation, "It's not like that would ever happen."
He knew almost the moment the words has left his mouth that it had come out the wrong way. Of course, he hadn't meant it like that. Lucy was…well, she was attractive, and yes, he had admired her from time to time…particularly when she was wearing a corset…but he would never…he respected her too much to…ugh. He should've corrected himself, he knew he should have…but his bad mood, his current situation, and his anxiety over what the next day would bring had him caring less about Lucy's feelings and more about his own present discomfort.
That is until her quiet voice piped up beside him, detached and cold, "Goodnight, Wyatt."
Shit.
He should have tried explain…but really, what was there to explain? Lucy knew this was a marriage of convenience…that their relationship was strictly platonic…why the hell would what he said bother her, then? He thought she would…and well, should be relieved…to be able to breathe easy knowing that he didn't expect anything like that from her just because they were getting married. Hell, he thought he was being a downright gentleman. Huffing out a grumpy breath, he flipped over onto his side, his back towards Lucy, praying that sleep would come sooner rather than later.
Eventually sleep did come, but it was far from restful. Apart from being completely uncomfortable physically, Wyatt now had to contend with this whole situation that had sprung up with Lucy…as if it weren't going to be awkward enough getting married to her in less than 24 hours.
Why couldn't those 18th century assholes just leave him the hell alone?
It was no surprise then, that he woke up in less than a stellar mood, grimacing at the sunlight pouring through the thin drapes at the window. Rolling over, he was going to nudge Lucy awake, apologize for being such an ass…and then ask her to get him a knife to cut him out of this thing, but he found, much to his surprise, that her side of the bed was completely empty.
A little put out that she left him alone to fend for himself when he was so damn helpless, Wyatt groaned as he squirmed into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, literally bound and determined to hop his way out of the room if he needed to, so that he could find Lucy and make things right with her before they met at the altar. He had just managed to get on his feet when the bedroom door swung open, announcing the arrival of Mrs. Poe and the housemaid, Margaret.
His sour mood returning full force at the sight of them, Wyatt barked "Where's Lucy?"
"Aren't we the anxious groom?" Mrs. Poe tutted as she directed Margaret to set down the tray of coffee and toast on the dresser. "Don't you worry about her, she's in good and proper hands…and will be until the minister arrives." she added with a reproving glare.
Wyatt rolled his eyes and huffed out an exasperated breath, "I just…dammit, I just need to talk to her." he spat out as Mrs. Poe forced him to sit back on the bed.
"There will be plenty of time for talk when you're married." she clucked as she produced a small set of scissors, "but until then, there's no seeing the bride until you're standing before the minister…and that's final."
Wyatt didn't give a damn about Mrs. Poe or her admonitions, but given that he was kind of at her mercy, he kept quiet…lest she decide it was best to just keep him in his bundling bag until after the wedding. Biting his tongue, therefore, Wyatt didn't make a peep as Mrs. Poe carefully cut away at the seams of the burlap sack until the material began to fall away, allowing him to feel like he could fully breathe for the first time in hours…though he was still a far cry from comfortable.
He had to see Lucy. He had to start this God forsaken day…their wedding day…off on a better foot than how he had left things last night.
Things were already awkward enough as it was.
Once free from his confines, therefore, Wyatt quickly crossed the room to the open door only to be called back by an annoyed Mrs. Poe, "And just where do you think you're going?" she asked with an irritated air. Wyatt turned to look at her incredulously, but she was too busy fluffing the pillows to notice or care about his expression. "I told you, there'll be no seeing your intended until you're standing before the minister…it's tradition...and I intend to see to it that you are keeping with tradition." She nodded towards the breakfast tray, "I brought you a wee bite to eat, when you finish that, you can go straight to Master Fraser's wash room and make yourself presentable, I've left a fresh suit there for you. Lord knows we can't have you looking like a hooligan on yer wedding day."
Begrudgingly, Wyatt slowly made his way back into the room, angrily taking a seat in a rickety chair by the fireplace to have his meager breakfast. His tantrum didn't faze Mrs. Poe in the slightest, however, she cast him an admonishing glare and continued her work, ordering Margaret to sweep the hearth as she finished making the bed.
Wyatt had no intention of keeping with any kind of tradition in regards to this wedding. Apart from them being silly superstitions, this marriage was just a ruse anyway, so why the hell would it matter if he saw Lucy before she came waltzing down the aisle? Especially since he had slept next to her the night before? It didn't make any sense and Wyatt had had enough of this 18th century bull crap to last him a lifetime. Draining his coffee mug, Wyatt made his way to the door, assuring Mrs. Poe that he would go straight to the wash room to clean up…a promise he had no intention of keeping.
Making his way down the stairs, however, he noted with confusion and a fair bit of alarm that the entire household seemed to be abuzz with activity and excitement. Servants were bustling to and fro, carrying portions of smoked meat through the house to the kitchen beyond, hauling clean linens up and down the stairs, and moving furniture. The house was in such an uproar, in fact, he doubted he could find Lucy if he wanted to. "What the hell is all of this?" Wyatt murmured as he took in the chaotic scene around him. Hoping to hell it wasn't all for their impromptu wedding, he zigzagged his way through the hall to the dining room where he found, much to his disappointment, that Lucy was nowhere to be seen.
Breathing out a curse, Wyatt wandered aimlessly around the house, trying to figure out what the hell was going on and where she could have gotten to, when he ran headlong into Mrs. Poe who was appraising him sternly over her small spectacles. "I thought I told you to wash up?" she all but growled at him.
"I was just…" he began in utter frustration, "What is all this?"
"Never you mind." was her curt response. "That's Mr. Fraser's business, not yours. Now get in that wash room before I drag you there myself."
Seeing that there was no use in arguing, Wyatt turned on his heel and made his way to John Fraser's private quarters, where the sight of his new suit sent his stomach dropping down to the floor boards.
This was actually happening.
He tried not to dwell on the fact that fairly soon he would be married again…to someone who was not Jessica. He tried not to think about the fact that should Rufus never be able to fix the time machine, he would be married to that someone for the rest of his life. He tried not to think about what would happen if Rufus fixed the time machine and they miraculously made it back to 2016. What the hell would happen then? Would he and Lucy get divorced? How the hell would that even work? What lawyer would recognize a marriage contracted in 1754?
The more he tried not to think about the wedding, the more he did…so much so, that by the time he tried to shave, his hands were shaking so much he figured he would forego the shave rather than risk cutting his own damn throat. When he finally emerged from the wash room, however, he was horrified to see that not only was the house still in complete disarray, but one look through the window showed a whole train of wagons and horses slowly making their way up the winding path leading to John Fraser's front door.
What the hell was going on?
Stumbling his way outside, Wyatt wound his way through a litany of excited and near frantic servants and field hands until he came upon an exasperated looking Rufus, who was hauling buckets of water to troughs that were now set up along the perimeter of the house.
"Rufus!" Wyatt called out, jogging towards him, "What the hell is all this? What, did they invite the whole damn county?"
"You don't know?" Rufus asked in surprise, letting out a derisive scoff.
"Know, what?" Wyatt asked his anxiety slightly mounting.
"The British are coming." he replied dryly. "A whole company of soldiers…due to arrive here any minute. I got the heads up at about 4AM this morning…been filling water buckets for hours."
"What the hell for?"
"Well, I've got to fill up these water troughs for the horses…"
"Not that." Wyatt snapped impatiently, "Why is a whole company of soldiers coming here?"
Rufus shrugged, "You think they tell me those things? I just got the notice at about 4AM that I needed to get my black ass out of bed and start filling up water troughs. You want to know why, I suggest you talk to your good friend the Colonel or Mr. Fraser over there," he indicated with a nod, "You look like hell, by the way. Aren't you at least gonna shave for your wedding?"
Not even responding to Rufus' comment, Wyatt quickly made his way across the vast yard to where John Fraser was directing the placement of a few crude benches. Upon seeing Wyatt's approach, his face brightened to a smile, "Ah! Wyatt, good to see you." He patted the arms of his new suit, carefully assessing its fit, "Not bad…if I do say so myself. I wasn't sure of your measurements, so you'll have to forgive length of the sleeves, but I daresay it will do the job."
Torn between his eagerness for answers and his hope to not sound ungrateful, Wyatt sighed, "Yeah…thanks…I mean…I appreciate the suit…but…"
"Oh don't think of it, my boy." John Fraser happily replied, "It is nothing, really nothing. It was the very least I could do for you given how hard you've been working. Can't have you married in rags, now can we?"
"Listen, about that…" Wyatt began.
"Aren't getting cold feet now, are ye?" John Fraser teased.
"No." Wyatt tried to explain, but once again John Fraser interrupted.
"Oh good, glad to hear it. Yer lass is a rare treasure…would hate to see her heart broken."
Wyatt raked his hand over his face in frustration, knowing that Lucy was probably still hurt over what he had said the night before, knowing that by now, that hurt had probably turned to anger, knowing that whatever the hell was going on with these soldiers would probably upset her even more, and knowing that if he didn't talk to her soon this wedding was going to be a disaster, especially if all of these people were going to be there.
"Yeah, Lucy's great." Wyatt muttered in response before quickly adding with a nod towards the approaching soldiers, "What is going on here?"
"Oh! You're in luck, m'boy…as you can see we're to play hosts to a few guests…your wedding should be quite the lively affair."
"I can see that." Wyatt murmured, his eyes drifting around the chaotic scene before him. "But what…um…what brings the soldiers here? I mean, there's not a fort around here for miles, is there?"
"Not unless you count Fort Duquesne," John Fraser acknowledged, "which is precisely why they've come." He motioned for Wyatt to follow him to the front of the house where the first travel weary group of soldiers were slowly making their way through his front gate, "You see, Colonel McKee sent notice that first evening of your arrival to our chaps down at Fort Cumberland, letting them know that, thanks to you, the French fort was now vulnerable and open to attack." He chuckled, "They've alerted the folks in Williamsburg, but sent out this advance group to assess the situation so that a battle plan might be formed. If all goes well and the Governor approves, we'll have recaptured that position before Christmas and you will have the thanks of King George, himself."
While Wyatt personally wanted to see the French army get their asses thoroughly kicked by the British as a recompense for what they had put them all through since arriving in the century, he also knew this was not how this story was supposed to go. The fact that he was apparently responsible for this radical change to the timeline didn't serve to make him feel any better about things. On the contrary, he knew damn well that if Lucy knew about this, she would likely skin him alive…hell, how pissed had she been when he set fire to that fort?
He was going to have to fix this, but he was going to need her expertise and advice.
Doing the best he could to keep his mounting panic at bay, Wyatt shrugged off John Fraser's praise, hoping to appear humbled by it rather than absolutely horrified. "Tha…thanks…but really…any of you would have done the same if you were trying to save…well, you know."
"Aye, that I do." John Fraser said solemnly, "All too well." He let out a shaky sigh and gripped Wyatt's arm, "Never forget how lucky ye are to have found your lass, alive and well – so many haven't been so lucky. It's a gift, my boy. A true gift."
Wyatt merely nodded in response, unsure of what else to say…after all, once upon a time he had not been so lucky…but then again, neither had John Fraser. "Speaking of Lucy," Wyatt began weakly, "have…have you seen her? I need to talk to her before…ya know…before…"
"I'm afraid I can't help you there, m'lad." John Fraser said with a chuckle. "Even if I knew where your girl was, the wife would have my hide if I let you lay eyes on her afore your wedding." He shook his head, "I understand your eagerness, but its best you go find something to occupy your time until this afternoon." He gave Wyatt's cheek a good-natured slap, "Why not a shave? That will soothe your nerves and quiet your mind for a while."
Hardly able to agree with John Fraser on that end, Wyatt thanked him for his time and
quickly made his way back to Rufus who was now working the water pump, filling yet another bucket. "I see you still haven't shaved." Rufus grunted in welcome as he picked up the now full bucket and replaced it under the spout with an empty one. "You know, I get that this is difficult for you, but you could at least act like you want to marry Lucy…"
"Rufus," Wyatt breathed out completely ignoring his comments, "these soldiers are here to attack Fort Duquesne."
"So?" he shrugged.
"So? So according to Lucy, that's not supposed to happen for like another few years." Wyatt spat out impatiently, desperately watching as scores of solders began making their way onto John Fraser's land.
"Who besides Lucy cares when it happens?" Rufus muttered grumpily, "1754, 1758, we kick their asses out of Pittsburgh either way. Besides," he added with a grunt as he lifted the now filled buckets, "with us trapped here like we are, Flynn is probably off screwing up history as we speak. Nothing that happens here is gonna make much difference if Flynn is off to God knows what in the Mothership."
Wyatt shot him a sardonic glare, "Yeah, well don't let Lucy hear you say that. You know how she gets about this stuff."
He followed Rufus to a nearby trough, too anxious to offer his friend any assistance, something Rufus was quick to point out, "These aren't heavy or anything." he griped, "I haven't been hauling about fifty of these back and forth all damn morning."
"Oh sorry, Rufus." Wyatt muttered, grabbing the bucket from Rufus' left hand, "I just…I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I could just talk to Lucy. Something tells me she's gonna want to know about this." He grunted as he heaved the bucket upwards and emptied its contents, "Where the hell is she anyway?" he asked anxiously, "I haven't seen her all morning."
Rufus sighed heavily as he nodded towards a building behind them, "I saw her go in there with that grumpy looking housekeeper about 20 minutes ago, but I wouldn't…hey, Wyatt! Wyatt!"
Wyatt, however, was in no mood to listen to Rufus lecture him about some stupid tradition about seeing the bride before the wedding. He had heard enough of it this morning from Mrs. Poe and John Fraser. Given this new development, he was more anxious than ever to talk with her, even if it meant getting a tongue lashing from Mrs. Poe.
Quickly making his way to the door, Wyatt pushed it open without ceremony, halfway daring the housekeeper to jump on his case. Upon entering, however, he immediately regretted it. The moment he crossed the threshold a panicked squeal met his ears, followed by a frantic blur of skin and limbs tumbling clumsily into a large basin of water.
Horrified, Wyatt hastily shut the door and turned to find Rufus standing at his elbow with a wide grin plastered on his face. "I tried to tell you, man." he said in a voice filled with amusement, "Lucy's getting ready for the wedding…said she was gonna take a bath." He waited for Wyatt to respond, but he didn't…he just stood looking completely shell-shocked, too dumbfounded to even speak. Chuckling devilishly, Rufus chided, "You saw her naked, didn't you?"
"I…um…" Wyatt began, but no other words would come.
Rufus watched him with amusement as he quickly made his way off the small porch, practically running from the scene as he disappeared amongst the throng of newly arrived soldiers. Chuckling to himself, he muttered. "That would be a yes."
"Where is he, Rufus?" Lucy gritted out as she paced around the dining room. "He should be here by now. We were supposed to have this thing over with 15 minutes ago."
Rufus, not nearly as anxious as Lucy, shrugged indifferently, "So it's a little past time." he sighed as he checked his watch, "That McKee guy said four…it's not even 4:30 yet." Lucy paused mid-pace and glared at him before he consoled, Look, I'm sure he's just getting ready…or I don't know, maybe he went and drowned himself in the river…"
Looking murderous, Lucy flushed and gritted out angrily, "Are you trying to be funny…because that is not funny."
"Oh come on, Lucy." Rufus urged, hopping off his perch on a hard stool so he could wrap her up in a hug, "So he saw you naked..."
"Oh God" she whimpered, covering her face with her hands.
…it's no big deal." Rufus continued over her, "You didn't think something like that was bound to happen sooner or later out here in Deliverance country?" Lucy shot him another sardonic glare as he continued, "I mean it, Lucy. Look around you. I'm kind of impressed it didn't happen sooner…we were all sleeping, eating, going to the bathroom…washing outside…hell for a little while there I thought we'd be doing the whole Naked and Afraid thing 18th century style."
"Naked and Afraid," Lucy scoffed, rolling her eyes at him, "really, Rufus?"
"Yes, really. Hell, Lucy, you were already running around in your damn underwear."
"Yes, but I hardly think we were quite at Lord of the Flies level desperate." she replied offhandedly as she set to pacing the length of the room again. "It was just…"
"Lucy…we ate snake." Rufus deadpanned, interrupting her, "I don't know about you, but that's pretty desperate in my book." Scoffing impatiently, Lucy began chewing her lip and her thumb as she continued to peek out of the window in search of a returning Wyatt. "Relax…he'll be here." Rufus assured, pulling her back into another hug, "Besides," he continued, "whatever his hang-ups are about this whole thing – he wouldn't just leave you hanging at the altar."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Lucy muttered, looking miserably at the clock on the mantel.
"Oh come on, Lucy." Rufus urged, "When has he ever not come through?"
"Yes…but that was before," Lucy said meaningfully, "you know…"
Shaking his head, trying desperately hard to stifle a laugh Rufus quipped, "Wyatt is a red-blooded male…and I know, speaking as a red-blooded male myself, that seeing a woman naked…"
"Don't even say it, Rufus." Lucy spat out, pushing him away as her face flushed with embarrassment, "I mean, how did he even…why would he…why didn't you stop him?"
"I tried!" Rufus hissed defensively, "You know how damn stubborn he is, "I need to talk to Lucy" he mimicked, "didn't give a rat's ass about what I had to say. Look," Rufus urged in an attempt to lessen her fears, "he probably went off trying to figure out what to do about this whole army situation and lost track of time."
"Do you really think it's true? That they're going to attack the fort?" Lucy asked anxiously.
"I don't know," Rufus muttered thoughtfully, "Wyatt said they were…that's why he wanted to talk to you."
"Me? Why me?"
"Um…because you're the expert in all this?"
Lucy shook her head at him incredulously, "This? Oh no, no, no…I don't know the first thing about what to do about this. This is not supposed to happen. Nothing like this is supposed to happen until next summer and even then…" she shook her head anxiously as she tried to explain, "when the British forces try to attack Fort Duquesne, Louis Coulon heads them off miles from here, nearly wiping out all the British officers in the process…including General Braddock….and even then, the British don't officially declare war on the French until 1756." Lucy pressed her fingers to her temples, willing herself to stay calm, "I can't believe this…this whole thing is a disaster."
"Hey…don't…don't…." Rufus urged helplessly. "When…when Wyatt gets back here, we'll figure something out…just like we always do."
"And just how are we supposed to stop an attack, Rufus?" she asked nervously. "Have you seen how many soldiers are out there?"
"Maybe it's not as bad as all that…I mean, we don't know for sure that they're going to attack the fort. Hell, the French may have already rebuilt that wall…"
Lucy, however, wasn't listening. Instead, she was back to pacing and wringing her hands anxiously as she obsessively looked out the window. No matter what Rufus tried to assure her of the contrary, Lucy had all but convinced herself that Wyatt had made a literal run for the hills. It was Michael Garrison and the prom all over again…except this time, her "date" hadn't just left her pathetically waiting for a limo that would never come. Oh no, this was much worse. Wyatt had seen her naked and now had essentially left her at the altar.
Humiliation didn't even cover it.
Rufus, still trying to ease her fears, stopped her mid-pace, "Lucy, I'm telling you…you have nothing to worry about. He'll be here. It's Wyatt...the same guy who burned down a French fort to save your life."
"Yes, and that is the whole reason all of this is happening. We've changed history, Rufus. What are we going to do?"
He frowned, letting out a heavy sigh, just as unsure about what to do as she was. Squeezing her shoulders bracingly, he suggested, "Look, why don't you go up and get dressed…"
Lucy's eyes darted to his in panic, "I am dressed." she gasped, "Oh my God, I look awful don't I?"
"No…Lucy…no…you look fine. " he assured, "It's just…"Rufus narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Aren't….aren't you supposed to be wearing white on your wedding day?"
Back to pacing again, Lucy waved away Rufus' concern, "No…wearing white to your wedding wasn't a commonly practiced tradition until Queen Victoria wore white to her wedding in 1840." she explained anxiously as she chewed her thumbnail, "In these days, women just wore the best dress they owned…and this…this is the only dress I have that's not caked in dirt or torn to shreds." She stopped and looked anxiously out of the window again, "Ugh…where is he?"
As if in answer to her question, Colonel McKee burst through the dining room door, dressed in his military best, looking relieved, "Oh my dear,' he sighed noting her obvious upset, "it's alright…everything is all in order. Your young man is waiting for you now if you're quite ready…"
Exchanging an uneasy glance with Rufus, Lucy nodded, shakily taking Colonel McKee's arm as he led her off to the drawing room where a large crowd of officers were assembled. As she emerged though the double doors and the whole room stood to attention, she immediately regretted ever agreeing to this whole charade. Wyatt, too, looked as if he were having second thoughts. He was standing at the front of the room, looking very much like he was about to be sick; his face was flushed, somewhat sweaty and absolutely tattered with bloody scars. Though he was facing Lucy, his eyes were trained on anything and everything but her.
"Oh God." Lucy moaned as she and Colonel McKee slowly made their way through the crowded room, down the narrow aisle to a waiting Wyatt, feeling very much as if she were headed to her execution rather than her wedding. Colonel McKee patted her arm, "He's alright, my dear…had a little trouble with his razor, apparently…that's all." When she merely gulped in response, he patted her arm once more as he assured her, "You're doing just fine, my dear. We're almost there." But that assurance was almost completely lost on her as her quaking knees nearly gave out from underneath her. Gripping tighter onto Colonel McKee's arm, Lucy kept her eyes on the floor, silently praying that she would make it through the ceremony without passing out, crying or throwing up…or any of combination of the three since she felt like she was on the verge of a complete and total nervous breakdown.
By the time she reached the altar, she was trembling so much that when Colonel McKee handed her off to Wyatt she stumbled sideways into him. "Sorry." she muttered quietly, wincing at the way Wyatt stiffened the moment she touched him. He gripped her arm unceremoniously, breathing out a curse when Lucy accidentally stepped on his foot as they both made their way towards the minister.
The ceremony, itself, was hardly a fairy tale. Wyatt looked just as mortified as she felt, possibly even more so as he was nearly incoherent, stammering over his vows. Lucy didn't fare much better reciting hers, but she, at least, could manage small glances up at Wyatt. He couldn't even look at her, and while she figured that must be due in part to what had happened earlier, she knew, especially after what he said the night before, that getting married to her was the last thing he ever wanted to do.
But here they were.
Sure, this had been his doing…but given the choice she was sure that Wyatt would have preferred they remained brother and sister rather than become man and wife. Which is why it came as no surprise to her that when the minister declared them as man and wife and told Wyatt he could "kiss the bride" he looked as if he had made the biggest mistake of his life.
Wyatt was, indeed, regretting all of this…even more so after what had transpired that afternoon. Seeing Lucy…well, seeing Lucy was something he had never intended to happen and while it was his own damn fault for not knocking first, he couldn't help but feel a little irked that it would not have happened at all if these 18th century superstitious bastards wouldn't have been so damn hung-up on keeping traditions. Hell, none of this would have happened if they would have all just minded their own damn business in the first place.
Really, what did it matter if Lucy was just his friend, his sister…or whatever? Yes, okay…it was a different era with different social codes and what not, but dammit…nothing was happening between him and Lucy…so why the hell did they have to pretend there was?
True, she would be better protected as his wife…especially if they were stuck here indefinitely…but theirs was supposed to be a platonic relationship. And kissing Lucy…especially after…well, that was decidedly bordering on the not platonic.
Why the hell did he ever think this was a good idea?
Somehow, in all of his thinking this whole marriage thing through, he had failed to remember this one little detail…the kiss. Blanching, Wyatt turned to Lucy and for the first time since she entered the room, actually looked at her. Dressed in the same pale blue dress she had worn the first night they arrived at John Fraser's home, Wyatt couldn't help but admit to himself how pretty she looked…something that came stupidly stumbling out of his mouth the moment she took a tentative step towards him. "You look beautiful….uh…your, um…dress, I mean."
"Huh?" Lucy's mouth dropped open in stunned surprise, her face flushing with a sudden self-consciousness, "Oh…um…thanks. It's really the only dress I have." she muttered almost inaudibly in dismissive explanation.
Wyatt nodded, unsure of what to do…feeling a hell of a lot more awkward with her than he ever had before. He had spent a good portion of the afternoon desperately trying to rid his brain of the image of her completely nude. He went for a run, a swim, nearly freezing to death in the process, spruced up the cabin…and finally, he stumbled his way into the soldiers camp where he downed a few good swigs of whiskey before attempting and failing to finally shave his face.
But it hadn't done any damn good.
He couldn't bring himself to kiss her…yet as Colonel McKee cleared his throat, he knew he was going to have to. Letting out an anxious sigh, he stepped forward…but Lucy, it seemed, was just as unwilling to kiss him as he was her…which, considering what a jackass he had been the night before…and the fact that he had walked in on her naked wasn't really wasn't much of a surprise. Feeling like he should do something, despite the fact that Lucy was refusing to even look up from the floorboards, Wyatt took her hand in his and, as he had done their first night at John Fraser's, planted a small kiss on her knuckles…hoping that that act would suffice.
It didn't.
Groans could be heard throughout the room and though Wyatt didn't really give a damn about putting on a show for any of these people, he figured his small gesture hardly sold any of them on the idea that he and Lucy were madly in love with one another. Lucy, too, seemed to be thinking along the same veins because much to his surprise, she made a quick step forward and landed one quick peck on his lips before quickly stepping back again, blushing furiously.
Stunned and more than a little uncomfortable with the whole thing, Wyatt stood awkwardly beside her as the room erupted into applause. He hardly processed the events that followed…the handshakes, congratulations, the signing of the marriage certificate, before he was being shunted off towards the smoke-filled lounge where the officers had assembled. He had no idea where Lucy had gotten to, and though he vaguely understood that he should probably be with her, he was still too damn mortified to care. The whole thing seemed like some kind of bizarre dream…or nightmare…he wasn't quite sure which as Colonel McKee and John Fraser took him aside making clandestine comments about how he "needn't worry about starting work around the farm straightaway."
"I dare say, you'll have other things to keep you plenty occupied." Colonel McKee chuckled with a wink.
Wyatt didn't need him to elaborate on what those "other things" were…and he didn't want to. This whole situation was getting more awkward by the second as soldier after soldier offered him a drink, shook his hand, and made certain comments about Lucy's figure, that, if she were really his wife, would have earned them all an ass-kicking.
But she really was his wife, Wyatt recalled with a groan.
They were married.
Probably for the rest of their lives.
And he had seen her.
Naked.
With a shaking hand, he grabbed a proffered drink and downed what tasted like a mixture of rum and hard cider…whatever the hell it was it was…it was strong, warm…and oddly thick. Wyatt gasped and coughed as the liquid burned the back of his throat and sent his head reeling. "What the hell is that?" he managed to croak as he handed off the now empty tumbler.
Laughing heartily, Colonel McKee slapped him on the back, "Surely you're joking?" At Wyatt's blank expression, he shook his head and brought forth another tumbler filled to the brim with the frothy concoction. "It's an old family recipe." Colonel McKee added with a wink, "It'll do you a world of good….perfect for a night like this."
Wyatt wasn't quite so sure he agreed with that statement, but as Colonel McKee was nudging another tumbler towards him, he took it, albeit reluctantly, feeling that he would much rather have a whiskey. His desire to forget this whole damn day, however, far outweighed his objection to the given method. Taking another swig, Wyatt grimaced as he gulped down the potent beverage, feeling again, a sudden rush of lightheadedness as he coughed his way through the after-effects. Deciding it would be safer to get the hell out of there before he lost his senses completely, Wyatt staggered away from the gentlemen as best he could, all of them laughing as he made his way out of the room.
"Ah! There he is, my dear." John Fraser pointed out to an anxious looking Lucy the moment Wyatt emerged from the lounge. "I told you he was probably having a few drinks with the officers…just a bit of fun, is all."
Upon seeing Wyatt, Lucy looked both relieved and mortified, but it was nothing to how Wyatt felt looking at her. Between the mishap that morning, the kiss, the alcohol….and the conversations he had just suffered through, his mind was now firmly planted in the damn gutter and there was no way in hell he was going to make it through the rest of the night without making a complete and total fool of himself.
That is, if they didn't get out of there as soon as possible.
Away from all of this, he figured, things would be back to normal. It would probably take a while to get the image of naked Lucy out of his head, but, he figured, getting back into a normal routine with Lucy…as his team-mate, co-worker and friend, his respect for her would duly supplant the carnal baseness of his current frame of mind.
It was all this pretending – that's all this was.
"Where have you been?" Lucy hissed out as she quickly made her way over to him. "Do you have any idea what I've been going through?"
"Can't be any worse than what I just went through." Wyatt muttered back sluggishly.
Narrowing her eyes, Lucy admonished, "Are…are you drunk?"
"No, I'm not drunk." Wyatt spat out in annoyance, "but if we don't get the hell out of here soon, I'm gonna be." Gripping Lucy, by the elbow he urged her towards the hall, "C'mon, let's go."
"Leaving so soon?" John Fraser called after him with a grin, "Why, my boy we've hardly celebrated! We have a whole evening of dancing and games…"
"Oh John, do let them be." Mary Fraser admonished, hitting him with her fan, "they've just married after all, it's only natural for them to want to be alone together."
The thought of being alone with Lucy suddenly didn't sound as appealing as it had just moments before and so Wyatt dropped her arm and exchanged an uneasy glance with her as he stammered in explanation, "Oh no…it's okay…we can stay if you…"
"Don't be silly, my boy!" John Fraser barked out in laughter, "Of course you want to be alone with your new wife, and I don't think any lad here will think the less of you for it." He took a hearty sip of the concoction Wyatt had been given and muttered quietly to him, "They'll be rather envious, I'd wager."
If the allusions to sex with Lucy had made him uncomfortable surrounded only by men, it was nothing to how he was feeling now...with her standing right beside him. For one brief moment, he harbored a small hope that she hadn't heard, but one quick glance in her direction revealed the horrifying truth that she absolutely had. There was no denying the furious blush that spread across her cheeks and the awkward way she attempted to act as if nothing had happened. If Wyatt hadn't been so damn mortified himself, he would have noted how cute Lucy looked when she was rattled, but now was definitely not the time to dwell on her more endearing qualities.
With grim determination, Wyatt gripped Lucy's elbow and merely offered John Fraser a terse nod in return as he made to lead her into the hall and out the door, but Lucy dug in her heels and held her ground. "Thank you, both." she said to the Frasers, "For…for all of this…I don't know how I….I mean, we can ever repay you for your kindness." She looked at Wyatt for support, but as he refused to look at her, she continued, "You gave us a place to stay…you did all of this…"
"Don't think of it, my dear." John Fraser dismissed with a shake of his head, "It's not often we get to host a wedding…and to do it with such fanfare as this? It has been our immense pleasure."
"Indeed, it has." Mrs. Fraser assured. "I've been very grateful for your company and I do hope that you will come by as often as you are able to visit."
"I'd…I'd like that…thank you." Lucy nodded with sincere gratitude, but not before Wyatt was once again, attempting to lead her away from the party. "Are you really going to attack Fort Duquesne?" Lucy couldn't help but ask, as he managed to move her a few steps closer to the hall. John Fraser looked at her in surprise, her anxiety clearly on display as she exchanged a nervous glance with Wyatt, "I mean," she continued, "that's what…that's what I heard."
Chuckling and shaking his head, John Fraser took Lucy's hand in his, Now," he said with soothing kindness, "don't you give any of this ugly business another thought. You two go off and enjoy yourselves…you've been through enough where those French are involved. I have it on good authority," he said with a nod towards the newly arrived Colonel, "that there's a good chance we can clear those French rascals out of here before the week is out. Then we can all breathe a little easier." Lucy made to argue, but John Fraser patted her hand and offered her a small wink, "Best be off now," he whispered, "your man seems a bit anxious to have you all to himself."
Wyatt breathed out a curse as he tugged Lucy's arm once more causing her to stumble as they made their way towards the door. "To the happy couple!" John Fraser announced as they made their way out of the room amidst cheers, whistles and cat calls, Wyatt's mortification rising with every step until they finally made their escape out the back door.
"Jesus, he breathed out "don't these people have anything better to do?"
"Yes." Lucy huffed out as she jogged to keep pace with his long, determined strides, "apparently, they're going to drive the French out of Fort Duquesne. Wyatt, what are we going to do?"
"I really don't give a damn about that anymore, Lucy." Wyatt responded as he continued his relentless march towards their cabin, "I say let them drive those assholes out of here…John Fraser's right, we'll all be able to breathe a hell of a lot easier without their army sitting a few miles upstream. I mean, let's not forget, they think we murdered that…that…jackas"
"His name was Nicolas," Lucy gritted out, "and believe me, no one would love to see them as far away from us as possible, but Wyatt…"
"But what, Lucy?" Wyatt spat out in exasperation, turning towards her, "We are stranded in 1754…we may never get back to 2016. I think we need to start focusing on what would make our lives better here, not…"
"Wyatt!" she hissed incredulously.
"I mean it, Lucy." Wyatt said with a determined shake of his head, "We need to start coming to grips with the fact that we could be here…" he trailed off, not able to quite come to grips with that grim reality himself. "Besides," he added after a few beats, "Flynn has probably screwed up the timeline a hundred times worse by now. What the hell difference does it make if this doesn't go off exactly the way it's supposed to, huh?" he asked hotly, "The French lose the war, don't they?"
"Well…yes, but…"
"But nothing." Wyatt dismissed, "Lucy, it's not going to make one damn bit of difference when this…"
"It could make all the difference in the world, Wyatt." Lucy urged passionately as they approached the cabin, "Listen to me," she urged, "the whole reason our Revolution begins is because of this war. The cost of protecting the colonies from the French for almost 10 years…it's what leads the British government to begin taxing…"
"And who is to say that still won't happen, huh?" Wyatt began as he threw open the door to the cabin. "This war could last just as long, Lucy…we have no idea…and if we aren't going to make it home, we sure as hell don't need to worry about it."
"Oh, that's a fine thing to say." she snapped back, "I thought as a soldier you would at least have some pride in your country, some sense of duty." That had obviously hit a nerve. Wyatt turned to face her, a cold fury written all over his face, but Lucy was not deterred, "You are still a soldier, Wyatt. This is still your country…don't you want to make sure that everything you ever fought for still exists 200 years from now?"
As much as Wyatt would have loved to argue with her, he knew she was right. As pointless as it seemed to keep caring, he still had a duty to try…even if they may never know whether it would make any difference at all. Bowing his head in defeat, he muttered, "You're right. I'm sorry…I just…"
"I know." Lucy murmured back quietly, "But Wyatt…if we can at least make sure this doesn't change too much…maybe if we do get back…the present won't be too different, even with Flynn running unchecked with the Mothership. Maybe…maybe we'll still be able to fix things."
Wyatt couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at Lucy's seemingly unending supply of optimism. After everything they had been through, the impossible odds they faced in returning back home, she still held out hope that they could somehow find their way out of this mess. He couldn't help but admire her for that. "Well," he said with a sigh and a slight smirk, "what good is a time machine if you can't use it to fix your regrets, right?"
Lucy smiled at him in return as he ushered her through the door to their new home. A cheerful fire was roaring in the fireplace, dried flowers were in a vase on the table, and the quilt she had labored over was neatly draped across the bed. Stopping short at the sight before her, Lucy gasped before turning to Wyatt with a look of utmost gratitude, "How…how…did…did you do this?"
Wyatt shrugged sheepishly, his cheeks flushing violently, "Well…after…ya know," he stammered, "I…felt bad about what happened…and I wanted to try to make it up to you and so I thought I could at least get the place looking…" he quickly crossed the room, desperate to get away from her as he pointed out the quilt, "They gave me this at the house…I really didn't do much…I just…spruced the place up a bit…that's all."
Lucy pursed her lips together and smiled, chuckling to herself as she remembered all the unnecessary worry that quilt had caused. "Well," Lucy began with a smirk, "you did give me a bit of a shock…"
"I know…and I'm…God, Lucy…I'm so sorry." Wyatt stammered out, unable to look at her. "I was just…I was an ass last night and I wanted to apologize and then the soldiers came and…" he swallowed hard before continuing, "I…I should have knocked, I'm sorry."
Lucy nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable being alone with Wyatt in a fire lit room. Trying to brush off her uneasiness, she shrugged, "Well…if it's all the same to you," she said, looking more to her feet than to Wyatt, "I'd just like to forget it ever happened."
"Uh…yeah…yeah…sure…me too." Wyatt stammered awkwardly, though he knew that was going to be a hell of a lot easier said than done…especially in their current surroundings. It hadn't occurred to him, when he was setting all of this up earlier, that it would border on the romantic…but hell, if it wasn't painfully obvious now. It wasn't enough that he had seen Lucy naked earlier, but now here she was standing before him, his wife, on their wedding night, bathed in glowing firelight…and the result was absolutely breathtaking.
Shit.
He must have been staring, because Lucy suddenly turned away from him awkwardly, looking as if she would rather be anywhere but there. As if to assure her that he had no intention of breaking his promise that theirs was a platonic marriage, Wyatt pointed out, "Um…you…you'll get the bed, of course…I'm…I'm sleeping up there…in the loft. I figure…you'd…you'd be more comfortable that way." Rushing forward suddenly he lifted a small trunk from the foot of the bed and flipped it open, "Oh and I almost forgot," he stammered nervously, "that housekeeper packed you a nightgown and another dress in here…so…you…you…ya know…"
"Don't have to sleep in my underwear?" Lucy answered with a chuckle. "Really, Wyatt…thank you for all of this…I know this isn't easy for you."
"It's fine." Wyatt answered with gritted determination, "It's just…part of the job, right?"
"Right." Lucy breathed out, before turning around, her eyes narrowed in confusion, "Where…um…where should I change?" she asked, lifting the nightgown.
"Oh." Wyatt answered blankly, "I…I didn't…shit…I can…I can step outside…"
"Okay." Lucy nodded awkwardly as Wyatt began making a beeline to the door. Before he was able to make his escape, however, she called back to him, her voice thick with apology, "Wyatt? It's just….my dress…and the corset…I can't…I'm sorry."
Running a rough hand over his face, Wyatt breathed out a curse before turning on his heel and marching back towards a sorrowful Lucy who offered apologetically, "If you can just…loosen it…I think I can manage the rest…"
"Fine." Wyatt said curtly, impatient for this whole ordeal to just be over with. He waited as Lucy turned away from him and quickly removed her bodice and skirt, until she was standing awkwardly before him dressed in only her chemise, petticoat and corset. Inwardly cursing, Wyatt rubbed a rough hand over his eyes before clearing his throat and setting to work on the tight knots securing her corset. He tried to keep his focus on the knots…and only the knots, but the more he tried to focus, the more his traitorous brain kept sending him back to fateful moment inside the bathhouse. As he worked to loosen her binds, images of her bare skin flashed unbidden in his mind, until his fingers began to shake, finally giving way as they fumbled uselessly against her corset strings.
"Wyatt?" Lucy asked tentatively, slowly turning her head, "Did…did you get it?" she asked, before turning fully to face him.
God, how he wished she hadn't done that.
Standing this close to her, with the firelight dancing across her features, he was completely mesmerized; transfixed by the incandescent glow alight in her dark brown eyes. Those eyes that had sought his so many times on countless missions, those pleading eyes that had pulled him back from the brink in 1836, those eyes that seemed to somehow pierce through his armor and see right into his very soul. There was no denying that Lucy had some kind of hold on him…something he could not readily explain…and did not want explained.
That would only complicate things.
She was his friend, his team-mate…and yet, as he stood there before her, fighting an unholy battle within himself, a part of him knew that an explanation wasn't really necessary. He just couldn't bring himself to admit it.
"Wyatt?" Lucy asked tentatively, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you having trouble with the knot again?"
Swallowing hard, Wyatt managed to nod in affirmation, desperate for her to turn away from him so that he might at least having a fighting chance against…whatever the hell this was. But she didn't. Instead, she reached out and squeezed his arm, a look of genuine concern on her face as she asked, "Are you feeling alright?"
No, he wasn't feeling alright. He could feel himself slipping. The self-control he had exercised for years, the armor he had so proudly worn out of guilt, duty and devotion was now cracking under the penetrating gaze of one tiny, brunette historian. He needed out, he needed air, he needed….
"Lucy! Wyatt! You got to come quick…we've got a problem!" Rufus bounded through the door frantically, breathless and panting, holding a stitch in his side as Wyatt and Lucy jumped apart in shock at the sudden intrusion.
While Wyatt took a moment to pull himself together, Lucy rushed forward in concern, "What? What's wrong?" she asked, panicked. "Rufus, what happened?"
"The French." he gasped out, almost painfully, "They just showed up out of nowhere…started shooting the place up, set fire to the camp."
Without a moment's hesitation, Wyatt quickly made his way to the door, followed directly by Lucy who peered over his shoulder into the dark night beyond. Except it wasn't dark. Just beyond the small ridge, a faint orange glow illuminated the night sky, bringing into sharp focus the dark shapes illuminated in its fiery glow, battling in its wake. Clenching his jaw, Wyatt turned and retrieved his knife and handgun from the corner, before handing a similar handgun to Rufus "You two stay here," he ordered with grim determination, "shoot anything that comes through that door, you hear me?"
Rufus looked back at him blankly, but it was Lucy who responded, stepping towards him, "What are you going to do?"
"What do you think I'm going to do?" Wyatt asked incredulously, "I'm going to help."
"What? No! Wyatt, they'll kill you."
"Haven't killed me yet." he said with a sigh as he added more bullets to his clip. As Lucy made to argue, he cut her off, "What the hell am I supposed to do Lucy? Sit here and do nothing while the French burn up the whole damn countryside? Kill our friends? Destroy the British army?" He offered her a meaningful glare as she continued to battle with him, "I'm still a soldier, Lucy…don't I have a duty to protect my country?"
"Yes, but Wyatt…" Lucy attempted weakly, knowing full well it was no use. He had used her own words against her, after all…and she knew, of course, that he was right…they could not stand by and let the French destroy everything and everyone they had come to rely on. And if the French defeated that company of British soldiers tonight, what would happen with the rest of the war? No, they had to do something…but Wyatt couldn't afford to fall into French hands again. None of them could. "I'm going with you." Lucy demanded.
"The hell you are." Wyatt spat back. "You and Rufus are staying right here…I've got enough to worry about without…"
"They could easily find us here, Wyatt." Lucy argued again, "And besides, you've…you've been drinking…you're not in any state to…"
"I'm fine." Wyatt dismissed as he marched towards the door, but Lucy barred his way causing him to throw back his head in exasperation, "Lucy…what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You're not going out there alone." she demanded.
"I won't be alone." he reminded her, "There's about a hundred or so soldiers out there…"
"Who have also been drinking…"
"It's the 18th century, Lucy." Wyatt quipped sarcastically, "everybody has been drinking. Now get out of my way." he demanded, but still, she refused to move. "You're not coming and that's final." he argued, his voice filled with frustration.
"You don't get to tell me what to do." Lucy gritted back.
At that, Wyatt smirked. "On the contrary, ma'am," he began brazenly, "an hour ago, you stood before everyone in that room and promised to obey me." Lucy's jaw dropped open in indignant horror as Wyatt turned serious again, "Now, go on…let me do my job." he pleaded. Furious tears sprang to Lucy's eyes as Wyatt turned to their friend, "Rufus?" he called as the time machine pilot slowly pulled her away from the door, "Keep her safe."
Rufus nodded his assurance as Lucy called after Wyatt desperately, "Just…just be careful…okay?"
"You too." Wyatt replied with a serious nod, before stepping off the small porch and disappearing into the blazing fields beyond.
Notes:
I would like to thank you all once again for your great patience. Things have been very hectic around here since the holidays and will most likely remain so until we can get all of the medical things ironed out for my daughter and whatever this means for our next assignment. Red-tape is a very real and frustrating process and we are currently in literal limbo until all of these details get squared away and those details require lots of paperwork, meetings, appointments and phone calls...so again...it's just nuts over here, so I am so so appreciative of your patience and continued readership. I hate leaving you all hanging..and yes, I know I'm still working on both WMHB and Once Upon a Highway...but those are taking a bit of a backseat to this story (though I should be updating Once Upon a Highway soon)
Now for the actual story notes: They're MARRIED. No it isn't the wedding of ANYONE's dreams...but that was by design. The whole situation is extremely awkward for both of them and they're both silently struggling against their own growing feelings for one another.
The drink that Wyatt had is an actual 18th century drink called flip. It's was made with eggs, cream, pumpkin or molasses and rum, beer and then it was stirred up with a red hot poker to make it frothy and warm...it was very popular in its day.
If you thought we were done with the French, think again! This is the French and Indian war after all and Wyatt's actions have consequences. We'll see what those are in the remaining chapters. Just a side note: I finished the last chapter of this fic at the same time I finished the very first chapter...so now we're just working our way to the end.
I hope you enjoyed this update. Thank you again for reading and I hope you have a great day.
And those of you who review, thank you. Your words really do inspire me and lift me up during these very stressful times. Some days it is hard to find the willpower to write after a very long and frustrating day of dealing with government officials, so when I get those comments of encouragement, they do help. So again, thank you.