"Anything?"

The rain pounded hard against Wyatt's face as he peered through the trees, holding a lantern aloft with one hand and a loaded musket in his other. He took a few more steps to ensure himself that no one was crouching, out of sight, behind a series of boulders before turning back to John and reporting, "Nothing. If there were more, they're probably long gone by now."

"Just as well." John replied tersely, holding his own musket. "Not much more we can do in this storm." But Wyatt, unheeding, continued to search through the woods, sweeping his lantern this way and that, even as John urged, "Come now, lad…we must get back to the house – your wife has already had enough of a fright tonight, no use making her fret any more this evening."

Wyatt couldn't help but scoff at that statement. It wasn't just Lucy who had had one hell of a scare…he had been pretty shaken up by the whole ordeal too. If Tom hadn't been there…

"My boy, you will catch your death if you stay out here much longer." John urged again, "come on back to the house, I think we've seen the last of them tonight."

After one last look, Wyatt reluctantly agreed, the adrenaline coursing through his veins pushing him to comb every last inch of these woods for another potential threat…just in case. John's assurances aside, they had almost been killed. If he hadn't stepped out onto that porch, they would have been completely ambushed by that marauding troop of assailants. As much as Wyatt wanted to trust John's assurances, he couldn't help but feel vulnerable even as they came upon Rufus, Tom and an entire host of men – all of them armed and holding lanterns aloft as they stood by a wagon carrying the bodies of their attackers.

"You see anything more, Tom?" John inquired, shouting over the pounding sound of rain.

"No, sir." he replied, "Not a living soul out here 'cept fo us."

"Is this all?" he asked, nodding to the grisly cargo in the wagon.

"Yes, sir" Tom nodded, "Five, all together." Wyatt stared at the bodies of the men, haphazardly piled together in the wagon – three Natives and two French soldiers – a raiding party, no doubt…but why the hell would they have set out in this weather? They were miles from Duquesne…

"Right then," John nodded tersely, beckoning them all on, "We'll bury them tomorrow. Let's move out."

The trudge through the mud and pouring rain was laborious to put it mildly, particularly with a wagon laden with dead bodies…but for Wyatt, this trek was far less harrowing than his previous one that evening. Immediately following the attack, he wrapped a nearly hysterical Lucy in his coat and made a quick march with her to John Fraser's – determined to see that she was safely out of harm's way. Every gust of wind, every crack of thunder, every movement in the trees, however, had him flinching – bracing himself for yet another ambush. It gave him little comfort that Tom and Rufus were bringing up the rear, effectively watching their six, because every sound they made just added to his paranoia. He gripped Lucy's arm tighter, keeping his gun loaded and at the ready until they finally found themselves standing, soaking wet, breathless…and a little shellshocked – on John Fraser's back porch.

Their surprise and alarm at Wyatt's grim news was met with immediate action. Lucy was ushered into the house with all the care and concern of a real family and John, without hesitation, called together a reconnaissance party to ensure that there was no longer a threat.

It took the effort of every man of that party to now heave that heavy cart up the ridge leading to John Fraser's farm, but once they began their downward descent, gravity and the slickness of the mud assisted their progress – a little too well as Rufus nearly found himself flattened when it veered off the road and into the fields.

Soaked and chilled to the bone they led the wagon to the back of the barn before John ordered half of the men to stand guard – calling on the others to rest up and take their turn later that evening. Nodding at Rufus, Tom, and Wyatt, John motioned them towards the beckoning warm glow of his home. They had barely made it onto the porch when Mrs. Poe, who was shouldering a musket of her own, opened the door for them, "Well, you all are in a right state," she observed as she took their wet coats and hats, "anymore of them marauders?"

"No, Mrs. Poe." John replied as he removed his own hat with a weary groan, "Not a living soul."

"Not surprising – in this storm." she remarked, "but what made them attack in this weather to begin with? Whoever heard of such a thing?" She clucked her tongue as she shook her head in bewilderment, "They must have been mad."

Eyeing the contraband they had gathered from the bodies, John sighed, "Desperate, Mrs. Poe. Desperate." Ushering the other men before him, John took up the rear as they made their way together to the parlor where not only coffee, but a roaring fire awaited them. Huddled before the fire under a blanket was Lucy, still covered in mud and soaking wet sitting next to Mary who quickly stood as the men entered, her face anxious as she looked to her husband who greeted her with a reassuring smile, "It's alright, Mary. It appears the danger is over…for now."

"For now?" Lucy asked rising to her feet anxiously, "What do you mean? Will they be back?"

"I don't know, my dear" John admitted with a sigh as she made her way towards them, "but you are to stay here tonight, just in case. We men will take turns keeping watch." he declared with a nod towards Rufus, Wyatt and Tom. "Don't you worry…if they do come back, we'll be ready for them, you can be sure of that. Now," he said turning to Wyatt, "let's get that shoulder patched up."

"It's nothing,' Wyatt dismissed gruffly, "just a graze."

"Nevertheless, it'll need mending." he nodded to Mrs. Poe who quickly disappeared to the storeroom. "in the meantime," he added, now looking at Rufus and Tom who were depositing various weapons and bags on the table, "let's see what we've got here."

"Who were they?" Lucy asked quietly, her hands running along the lengths of a leather rucksack, "What is all of this?"

"Everything they had on them except the shirts off their backs." Rufus replied as he pulled yet another rucksack off of his neck, "but from the looks of it…"

"We traded with them earlier today." Wyatt answered quietly, his sullen gaze focused on a beautifully crafted musket now lying on the table. He looked to John, "I guess they weren't convinced I wasn't the guy they were looking for…"

Confused, Lucy looked between the two men, before turning fully to Wyatt, "What…what are you talking about? Whowere they looking for? You didn't say anything about…"

Wyatt opened his mouth to explain, but John Fraser cut him off, "I noticed they had a couple of soldiers with them…"

"Yeah," Wyatt agreed flatly, "I noticed that too…"

John Fraser nodded thoughtfully, thanking Marry for his cup of coffee before pressing Wyatt further, "And you're sure you only saw the five?"

"I can't be sure, John." Wyatt groaned, 'You saw what it was like out there. I'm lucky I even saw…." Wyatt breathed out in exasperation as he rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace. "There were more than five of them earlier today…so either only these guys decided to show up or…"

"The other ones got away." John finished for him with a musing nod.

"Will somebody please tell me what's going on here?" Lucy demanded, her patience thinning, "What happened tonight? You knew these people?"

"No…" Wyatt said defensively.

"But you said they were looking for…"

"Someone." Wyatt grunted in exasperation as he sat down on the stool so that Mrs. Poe could begin cleaning his shoulder. He sighed heavily as he worked his arm free of his sleeve and rubbed a hand across his face, "When John and I went down…ow," he hissed in pain as she made contact with his wound, "to the trading post today there was, ow…already a tribe there." He shook his head, "I knew something was off about them…they were…"

"Understandably anxious," John Fraser finished for him, before turning to Lucy in explanation, "They have a…well, shall we say a shaky alliance with the French. Colonel McKee," he added, "being somewhat part of the Shawnee tribe himself, has been able to at least neutralize a few of them…but well, as Wyatt explained, today they were agitated…"

"That's an understatement… Wyatt murmured.

"I told you," John reminded him, "trust is not something that comes easily with these tribes. Some of them have been dealt a very unfair hand and with France and Britain on the brink of war, it's very easy to see how one side could take advantage of that lack of trust."

"I don't understand," Lucy remarked, "What does that have to do with Wyatt?"

"He was unknown to them, my dear," John replied gently, "and it seems the French have enlisted their help in finding a murderer they claim is running wild through these parts." Lucy's eyes darted to Wyatt as he continued with a sigh, "I tried to tell them otherwise, but the French were offering a considerable bounty and I suppose they felt that the chance of such a reward would be better than no reward at all."

Lucy bit her lip in thought, but said nothing more, slowly sinking down in a nearby chair as Mary offered her a cup of coffee. Wyatt could tell the wheels in her head were spinning, but had no idea why. He figured there was going to be some sort of historical ramification as a result of all of this, hell, he had probably started a whole new war by just defending himself…but he couldn't be bothered to think about that right now…

"Lucy, dear." Mrs. Poe called, "Would you mind giving me a hand?"

…right now he was more worried about the fact that Lucy had just about spilled half of her cup of coffee at Mrs. Poe's suggestion. He side-eyed her as she made her way towards them…looking very much like she'd rather not help…and well, Wyatt couldn't really blame her. Hell, the feeling was mutual. Lucy touching him was the last thing he needed right now. He knew they were going to have to deal with… everything but this wasn't exactly the time.

"You were quite lucky tonight, son." John remarked quietly observing Mrs. Poe's work. "Truly, you have no idea how very fortunate you are. To survive an ambush such as that? Why," he added with a scoff, "it's almost unheard of."

Again, Wyatt felt the heat of shame and embarrassment rise on his face. He'd hardly call it luck…to him, it felt more like karma. True, his cowardice in the face of admitting to Lucy that he had lied to her (repeatedly) about what had actually happened that night had probably saved their damn lives – but he couldn't help but think he had kinda deserved getting shot at for betraying her trust in him. He could feel her hand on his shoulder and he knew, even though he wasn't looking at her, that she was staring down at him, judging him…hating him for lying to her.

"How fortunate, indeed." remarked Mrs. Poe incredulously, "How did you ever manage it?"

Wyatt felt Lucy's hand slip slightly and he winced, casting a wary glance towards Rufus and Tom…Tom who now knew something was not quite right with them – Tom, who was now very interested in the examining the wood grain patterns of John Fraser's hardwood floors. Clearing his throat, Wyatt replied, "Just lucky I guess."

John frowned at Wyatt thoughtfully for a moment as Mrs. Poe finished dressing his shoulder, "Well, as you say, you were quite fortunate. These raiding parties excel in stealth…I imagine they thought the storm was a perfect cover for their little operation tonight." He chuckled darkly adding, "It appears you proved them wrong."

"It wasn't just me." Wyatt couldn't help but acknowledge with a heavy sigh, nodding towards Rufus and Tom as he slipped his arm back into his shirt, "I don't know what the hell I would've done if they hadn't shown up when they did." He considered Rufus and Tom for a moment…the latter still examining the floor until Wyatt asked, brimming with curiosity, "What the hell were you two doing out there anyway?"

"The lightening." Rufus replied in explaination, shrugging slightly as he twisted his hat in his hands, "We…um…we saw it hit and thought that it might have…well, it was so close…"

"Yes sir," Tom replied in concert, "I says to Rufus - that might'n have struck that cabin of yourn - and so's we thought to ourselves we best go down and checks to see if you was alright. Good thing we did too." He chuckled, "It was a might interesting way to pass the evening that's fo' sure." Lucy and Wyatt both turned and looked at Tom anxiously, fearful of what he might say further…or rather, reveal, but Tom merely nodded at them with a knowing smile and said nothing more.

Breathing a collective sigh of relief, Lucy, Rufus and Wyatt visibly relaxed as John began sifting through everything they had recovered from the bodies. "Very interesting, indeed." he muttered almost to himself as he examined a meticulously carved Cartouche knife. Chuckling mirthlessly, he tossed it to the side and remarked, "Would you believe I traded them this knife? If I had known they would try to…" he shook his head remorsefully and sighed, "Well, I suppose nothing can be done about that now."

"John," Wyatt began, "this…this isn't your fault…"

"No," John sighed heavily, "but it does make one wonder- why?" He shook his head, "If it had only been those Natives from earlier, then perhaps it might be explained away as a desperation, a hope…but the presence of the French soldiers…". Lucy lifted her eyes to Wyatt, and he knew without her even saying a word, that there was something on her mind, but before she could voice whatever that something was, John Fraser piqued all of their curiosity by opening a bulging leather satchel and remarking curiously, "Well, what do we have here? Letters?" He unfolded the bundle of papers found within, "Hmmm," he mused as his eyes darted across the yellowing parchment, "now this is interesting…"

Hardly able to help herself, Lucy made her way over to John and looked over his shoulder at the letter he was currently perusing, "What is it?" she asked, her eyes anxiously scanning over the carefully penned words.

"It appears to be a letter from," John squinted his eyes as he pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket, "hmmm…a Claude-Pierre Pécaudy de Contrecœur…what a mouthful, eh?" He looked over his shoulder at Lucy, clearly hoping he had amused her, but she wasn't laughing. "If I'm not mistaken," John continued with a shrug, "he's the French military commander in Canada…". Lucy exchanged a worried look with Wyatt as John continued, "he's planning on reinforcing Duquense…or has he done already?" John mused as he shook his head, "I'm afraid my French is not quite so…"

"Let me see it." Lucy gapsed, practically ripping the letter out of John Fraser's hands.

John followed her trajectory with a look of surprise at her in surprise before exchanging a look with Wyatt as he chuckled slightly, "Yes, well…by all means, dear. You are no doubt more proficient in that language than I.

But Lucy didn't respond, not even as Mrs. Poe loudly muttered her disapproval at her "brash behavior". Indeed, it didn't even appear as if Lucy had heard either one of them. Her focus was solely on the letters in her hand, her eyes scanning them back and forth as she paced in front of the fireplace, murmuring words in French Wyatt didn't understand. It was clear she was agitated, whoever that de Contrcoeur person was, his letter was apparently not a good thing.

"…they've reinforced Duquesne." Lucy muttered frantically, before adding with a horrified gasp, "with 2000 troops." Helpless, she looked directly at Wyatt, the color in her face completely drained, "This…this can't be right."

"2000 men at Duquesne?" John exclaimed, "I agree, that can't be right…where one Earth would they put them?"

"Are you sure they are there now?" Wyatt asked Lucy seriously, "Or are they just planning on…"

"De Contrecœur says right here," Lucy gritted out as she gestured to the letter, "that he is happy to provide 2000 additional troops to Captain Coulon de Villiers – he's the commander at Duquense.. This was dated a few weeks ago," she looked at him helplessly, "if they aren't here now, they will be soon."

"All the more reason to head to Cumberland." John maintained. "Typically I'd advise against travelling so far in the winter months, but with this coming war…" he shook hs head, "desperate times calls for desperate measures…even more so now than it was a few weeks ago." He looked at Wyatt seriously, "This is the second attack we've faced in only a matter of weeks…things are becoming far too dangerous here…"

"But you can't go." Lucy blurted out anxiously, "This…this is your home…you have to…"

"I have too much invaluable information about the lay of this land to provide General Braddock on his arrival. I have too much experience as a scout, tradesman and gunsmith to sit idly by while he…"

"He won't listen." Lucy interrupted breathlessly, "Nothing you say will convince him to change his plans." John looked offered her a knowing smirk and she nodded at him, "You already know he won't, don't you?"

"I know Braddock is a fool, yes." he conceded with a sigh, casting Wyatt a quick glance, "But even a fool can be made to see reason sometimes…let's just pray this is one of those times."

Lucy tried to return to her letter, desperate to verify a suspicion that had begun in her mind, but she found she could not let this go – Jane Fraser and her eight children depended on it, "It won't work…Braddock is too…"

"That's quite enough of that." Mrs. Poe interjected hotly, "Just who do you think you are to question Mr. Fraser's judgement?" She marched across the room and wrenched the letter out of Lucy's hand and tossed it back to John with a huff, "Talking of….military matters…in the parlor no less!" She shook her finger at Lucy before taking hold of her wrist and leading her away, "I've told you time and time again, it's unbecoming of a lady."

"But I…" Lucy argued, attempting to reobtain the letter from John Fraser as Mrs. Poe dragged her past.

"It had absolutely nothing to do with you, my dear." Mrs. Poe maintained firmly, "You've had a great shock, yes…but that's all the more reason for you to take your ease and not get involved in such ugly matters. I have a nice warm bath waiting for you…"

"If I can just…" Lucy began again, desperately trying to wrench her arm out of Mrs. Poe's grip, but to no avail. Mrs. Poe was still plowing on, clearly irritated by Lucy's stubbornness.

"You could have caught all manner of disease, standing out there in the cold and damp…and to still be sitting here in your wet clothes?" she shook her head, "I should have put you in a bath straight away and sent you to bed." Lucy made one last desperate look behind her, but Wyatt, Rufus, Tom and John looked as absolutely helpless as she felt in Mrs. Poe's authoritative presence…and so, they did nothing as the housekeeper continued to push Lucy out of the door and into the hall, "There's a good girl," she continued as Lucy tripped her way out of the room, "it's better to leave the men to discuss these matters."

As much as she appreciated everything Mrs. Poe had done for her, particularly tonight when they arrived, soaking wet and terrified on their doorstep, Lucy would have much rather she would have butted out of her conversation with John Fraser. She knew how the conference would go with General Braddock, she knew it was a hopeless case...and as Jane Fraser was due to make her reappearance at any time…

It was no use arguing with Mrs. Poe, however – Lucy knew that from experience – and so, she resigned herself to the bath and the almighty scrubbing and tongue lashing that came with it. Lucy didn't quite know which was worse, the harsh assault on her skin and hair…or having to withstand another one of Mrs. Poe's lectures on her unwomanlybehavior.

Still, she was grateful to no longer be caked in filth and mud and so she said nothing as she slipped into her borrowed nightgown and padded her way down the hall to her old room. She could hear the low rumble of the men's voices conversing just below her as she passed the staircase and while she knew it would invite Mrs. Poe's wrath, she couldn't help but try to listen in. Creeping down the stairs, Lucy strained her ears but no sooner had she reached the landing than than Mrs. Poe gasped in horror somewhere above her, "Will you never learn?" Grabbing Lucy's wrist, she began yanking her back up the stairs, exclaiming loudly, "Good Heavens, child…prancing around here half-naked? Eavesdropping? I've half a mind to wallop you! I dare say you could use it." she added for extra measure as she unceremoniously tossed Lucy in her bedroom after practically dragging her all the way down the hall. "Now, she added with a huff, straightening her apron and fixing Lucy with a steely gaze, "no more of this nonsense, or I swear I will lock you in this room til Kingdom come." With one last look of reproach, she slammed the door behind her, leaving Lucy frustrated, angry and alone.

It felt as though hours had ticked by as Lucy lay, wide awake, her eyes trained on the ceiling, jumping at every noise, every creak, that sounded. She wondered if more attackers would come…if they would completely overwhelm them all and murder them in their beds. She wondered if they would ever feel safe again. She wondered what was in the rest of that letter – if it would perhaps explain why…she wondered if Wyatt would come up to the room to get some rest…or if he would stay away all night, keeping watch on the house. She couldn't decide if she was more relieved or disappointed when more and more time passed and he was still, notably absent. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he told her she had kissed him, but even now, her face burned hot with shame and mortification at the thought.

What had she done?

She had wanted to get drunk to keep her mind off of Amy and the fact that they were all stuck here and possibly would be forever. She had wanted to get drunk because somewhere out there Flynn was changing history and she couldn't do a thing about it. She wanted to get drunk because they had changed history and she didn't know how to fix it. She had wanted to get drunk because she had messed up that stupid dinner. She had wanted to get drunk because these past few months of living with Wyatt, sleeping next to Wyatt, pretending to be married to Wyatt were taking a toll…and she just wanted to not think about anything…for one night. One night. That's all she wanted. One night to not think.

But that was the problem.

By not thinking, she had let down her guard and opened the floodgates. Her feelings for Wyatt, so carefully hidden since that fateful day at the Alamo, had come out. She had kissed him…and oh God…why had she kissed him? Well, she knew why…but why the hell did she have to actually do it? She didn't even want to think what Wyatt must have thought, how absolutely mortified he must have been, how uncomfortable he must be now that she had thrown herself at him like some drunken…

Ugh…this is why she should have never agreed to this silly arrangement.

She knew going into this that her feelings for Wyatt were a liability – that her heart was oddly and frustratingly attached to him despite knowing that he was completely and totally in love with his dead wife. To pretend to be married, to play this game of husband and wife? She knew something like this was bound to happen. Hadn't she resolved to not let her guard down? Hadn't she sworn that she would do her best to make sure things between them remained professional? Hadn't she reminded herself over and over again that she could never and would never measure up to the woman he had lost? Hadn't he basically told her the same thing? Right here in this very room? That in no uncertain terms would he ever…could he ever…

And she threw herself at him and screwed everything up all because she had to get drunk.

She took little comfort in the fact that Wyatt hadn't moved out of the cabin that next morning and into John Fraser's barn…mostly because she remembered that he had made that beeline for the woods, practically refusing to look at her the next morning when she went to apologize. Then, there was the fact that he had an obligation to protect her…not just because she was his "wife" but also because she was his teammate -it was his job. She was his job. So, naturally he couldn't just leave her defenseless. Given that they were nearly killed tonight, she was grateful he hadn't of course…but she wondered how they would go on living as they were with that kiss hanging over their heads.

He had told her not to worry about, she had been drunk…but there was something in the way he said it that made her feel that there was definitely something to worry about. After all, he had slept in that uncomfortable chair all night…just to avoid her.

Was he really that opposed to…

Yes, of course he was. He was essentially a married man. His dead wife's memory was sacred to him in a way that she respected even if she did not fully understand it. By kissing him, she had crossed a line…a big line…and well, she just hoped it wouldn't drive him away. He had already been talking about leaving the team, after all….and if they ever did get out of here…

The sound of footsteps in the hall pulled her out of her thoughts and had her springing up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest as she anticipated who was on the other side of the door. She waited with bated breath as the footsteps stopped, shuffled somewhat and then stilled. She wanted to call out, but was half afraid it was Mrs. Poe…and given that she had all but demanded Lucy get some sleep, she didn't want to find herself dealing with yet another lecture.

So instead, she just sat there…waiting, until finally, she heard another shuffling and the footsteps slowly moving away.

Brimming with curiosity, Lucy eased herself out of bed and tiptoed across the room, grabbing a shawl from the hook behind the door, she carefully eased it open and peeked outside. The hall was unsettlingly dark, quiet, and seemingly empty. Throwing the shawl around her shoulders she chanced Mrs. Poe's wrath by venturing beyond the confines of her room, figuring that if she did get caught by the austere housekeeper, she could just honestly tell her that she heard a noise and wanted to check on it.

Rain still battered hard against the windows and while slivers of firelight shown from beneath the doors on either side of her, the hall itself was nearly pitch black. Nevertheless, she tiptoed towards the direction of the staircase, deciding that since she had come this far, she might as well do a thorough investigation.

She slowly crept her way forward, keeping her hand out in front of her, when suddenly it brushed against something…or rather someone standing directly in her path. Sucking in a breath of fright, she clutched at her chest as a pair of strong hands, gripped onto her shoulders.

"Lucy?"

"Wyatt?"

"Yeah, it's me." he whispered, back before asking with some awkwardness, "I um…I…thought you were asleep?"

"No, I…" a creak coming from the direction of Mrs. Poe's room, however, had Lucy retreating back to her own with Wyatt following right behind. Ushering him into the room, she eased the door closed behind him, breathing out a sigh of relief before admitting in a whisper, "I couldn't sleep. What about you?" she asked in confusion, "What are you doing up here? I thought you were keeping watch?"

Wyatt shifted uncomfortably at her question, looking suddenly as if he should be anywhere else in the world but standing there with her in that bedroom. In the dying firelight, he looked tired, but she could tell from the agitation in his demeanor that he was not looking to sleep. "I was just…um…well, I was…" he began uneasily, before shuffling back to the door awkwardly, saying, "I'm sorry…you're right…I um…I shouldn't be here."

A renewed sense of guilt and shame washed over her as she watched him slowly make his way back to the door. She had done this…she had made everything so weird between them with that stupid kiss and she couldn't stand it. "Wyatt," she called out desperately, "don't…don't go…please." He stilled, turning slightly towards her as she stammered, "I…I'm…" she wanted to apologize, she wanted to promise him that she would never throw herself at him like that again, but instead, she found herself unable to form the right words, so instead she switched gears, "I just…I didn't get a chance to thank you…you saved my life tonight, Wyatt."

Wyatt shrugged, casting his eyes down despondently as he replied, "Just doing my job…ma'am."

Ma'am.

A year ago she would have given anything for Wyatt never to utter that particular word to her ever again, but now? Now it brought tears to her eyes as she considered that maybe…just maybe it meant that things weren't as bad as she thought they were between them. After their fight earlier…after he had avoided calling her that since…since that night…hearing it now was just…

"Hey, are you okay?" Wyatt asked clearly concerned since now she was half on the verge of crying. "'You're not hurt, are you?"

Lucy shook her head at him, dismissively, "No. no…I'm…I'm okay. It's just…everything." She explained with a sniff as she turned back to the fireplace and sat down on the floor, "It was just a close call tonight, that's all." Hugging her knees into her chest, she looked at the dying fire and muttered, "If you hadn't stepped out on that porch when you did…we could have been killed."

Wyatt hummed in reply, taking the poker in his hand and urging life into the fire as he tentatively took a sit next to Lucy on the floor. She could see the tension in Wyatt's jaw, that on edge look he would get sometimes on missions. There might have been a storm raging outside, but inside? She could see that Wyatt was giving it a run for its money-and why not? Their relationship was…what it was - and on top of all of that he had this enormous responsibility on his shoulders - keeping them all safe.

"Do you think he'll say anything?' Lucy asked turning her gaze back to the fire, "Tom?"

"I don't know." Wyatt sighed heavily, "Rufus seems to trust him…"

"Yeah." Lucy replied heavily as she pressed her chin to her knees with a thoughtful frown as a deafening silence descended between them – both of them too wrapped up in their own thoughts and feelings to utter a single word.

Wyatt continued to stoke the fire until, he paused suddenly and reached into his coat pocket, "Oh, before I forget…" he muttered, before handing her a folded but wrinkled piece of parchment paper, "here…"

Lucy turned her head towards him in confusion, slowly taking the paper from his outstretched hand, "What is th…" she began before gasping out in realization, "You didn't?"

Smirking as he continued to stoke the fire, Wyatt shrugged, "Figured you'd want to finish reading it." As Lucy eagerly unfolded the French letter Mrs. Poe had so rudely ripped away from her earlier that evening, Wyatt tossed a few more letters her way, "Picked up a few others – don't know how interesting they are – John didn't seem to be too concerned about them."

Lucy's mouth dropped open in surprise, absolutely delighted that Wyatt had realized how disappointed she had been when Mrs. Poe evicted her from the parlor earlier that evening…and had actually done something about it. She could've kissed him for it…and well, probably would have if Wyatt hadn't tensed so much when she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. She winced as he awkwardly patted her on the back…feeling that once again, she had crossed some stupid line and made him uncomfortable again. And really, what did she expect? She had thrown herself at him, kissed him, forced herself on him…when he repeatedly told her he was not interested…and here she was…doing it again. Pulling away self-consciously, Lucy collected the letters in her lap, smiling at them softly as she muttered, "Thank you so much, Wyatt."

Wyatt dismissed her thanks with a sheepish shrug, clearing his throat as he did so which, for Lucy, just drove the point even further that she had made things awkward between them again. He was sullen and silent, concentrating way too much on that fireplace and Lucy knew…she knew it was because there was this…this thing between them now. Desperate to try to undo the damage she had caused and to get him talking about anything else, she cleared her throat and observed, "You look tired. Did…did you get any sleep?"

"Huh?" Wyatt startled, drawing his thoughtful gaze from the fire, "Um…no." he replied, offering her a soft smirk, "No, I…I couldn't sleep either."

"Oh." Lucy muttered, debating whether she should offer to let him rest in her bed…or whether that would be once again, crossing some line…which was stupid considering they had slept next to one another since that night with no issues….at least, none that she knew of at the time. But now? Well, now she knew that there was an issue…and it was making her overthink every single interaction she was having with him. Ugh…this was stupid. She should just ask him if he wanted to sleep with her….wait, no, not…not that….just sleep next to her…yes, because they both needed to sleep, after all…and…and…they were sort of married…and that's what married people do. They sleep with each other.

Next to each other.

Dammit.

She was just about to form some kind of suggestion that he stay…deciding whether it would be better to offer to take the floor or just sit up and read her letters while he slept…but then she thought that might sound a little weird…like maybe he would think that she wanted to watch him sleep or something when Wyatt suddenly got to his feet, looking almost embarrassed by their proximity…and well, given everything that had happened between them, Lucy couldn't blame him. A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over her as she watched him awkwardly make his way back to the door, "Well, I should probably…" he gestured slightly with hand, "get back…to…yeah." he muttered, turning quickly on his heel and making a beeline for the hallway.

'Wyatt?" Lucy called out in a hushed voice, scrambling to her feet and making her own way to the door. She desperately wanted him to stay, hating that she had driven this weird wedge between them, but terrified that she would push him even further away with yet another request to stay in this room where he was clearly uncomfortable. She gaped at him as he turned towards her, hardly knowing what to say or do to make things better. Shrugging, she stammered, "I…I just…" she sighed as she lifted the letters, "thanks, again…for…for getting these."

Wyatt offered her a soft smile, gazing at her for a moment before nodding in reply, "Yeah," he whispered, "no…no problem." Clearing his throat he added with a frown, "you should…um…you should probably get some sleep, though."

"O…okay." Lucy promised nodding her head and offering him another smile, before reminding him, "You too." He smirked at her and chuckled slightly as if sleep was a complete and total impossibility….and once again, she was struck with the overwhelming urge to ask him to stay. She slept better when he was with her anyway…and after tonight…

"Goodnight, Lucy." he muttered as he stepped backwards into the darkened hall.

She watched him as he turned and disappeared out of sight, her heart feeling like it was breaking with every step he took away from her as she whispered back, "Goodnight, Wyatt."

The night passed on with no further disturbances, other than the one nature had provided. As the grey dawn of morning began to streak its way across the sky, the thunderstorm of the previous evening had given way to a light, sleeting drizzle. Wyatt rubbed his hands together and blew hard against them before resuming the grim work of burying the dead.

As body after body was placed in the muddy pit they had dug out behind the barn, Wyatt wondered if more would come. Last night, the storm had no doubt kept others at bay…but there was no guarantee they wouldn't try again…especially now that some of their number had been killed. He wasn't sure what the rules of engagement were out here in the 18th century wilderness, but he figured – given the already shaky relationships that existed between this tribe, te English and the French killing five people – even if it was in self-defense - wouldn't exactly improve things.

He was physically exhausted and mentally drained. Last night had been…difficult - in more ways than one.

Fighting off an ambush when you're outnumbered five to one was no walk in the park. Delta Force training or not – it was damn tough battling it out in the rain and the mud and he had to do it almost entirely on his own. Failure absolutely was not an option. He rubbed his shoulder as he once again breathed out a sigh of relief that Rufus and Tom had come when they did. He didn't want to think about what could have happened…not just to himself, but to Lucy if they hadn't.

The thought of her being taken like Jane Fraser had been was enough to have him on edge all damn night. He had made several rounds outside in the rain and paced every square inch of the ground floor of John Fraser's house until he knew every single, solitary nook and cranny in the place. He had no idea how long he had marched through the house, his eyes peering through every window out into the storm, scanning the treeline for any and every sign of movement, when he couldn't take it anymore. Stealing away, he had made his way up the stairs, just needing to assure himself that she was safe…and then, upon reaching her door, he thought of how stupid he was being. Of course, she was safe, there was no way anyone had gotten in the house with all of them keeping an eye on things…

Besides, he had thought…after lying to her, he was probably the last person she wanted to see, anyway…even if she was awake, which she probably wasn't.

But then…there she was…and…she didn't hate him…at least, she didn't seem to…

"You want any of this?"

Rufus was standing before him in the doorway of the forge, holding out a kettle of coffee. Their grim work completed, he, Tom and Rufus were huddled in the forge attempting to warm themselves as they watched the early morning sun peek out from behind a wall of gray clouds.

Gratefully taking a mug, Wyatt collapsed on a nearby stool and groaned, "What a night."

"You can say that again." Rufus quipped beside him. "I used to pull all-nighters back in the day, but it was nothing like this, I'll tell you what." He sighed heavily before taking a sip from his own mug and asking, "You think they'll be back?"

"Hard to say." Wyatt replied grimly. "John seems to think they won't, but I'm not so sure. I don't think we've seen the last of them."

"What are we gonna do?" Rufus asked quietly, warily eyeing Tom getting his own mug of coffee behind them, "I mean, we can't do this every night…and if I'm supposed to be fixing the LifeBoat," he lowered his voice as Tom walked past them, "I just don't know how long we can keep this up, Wyatt. If a rainstorm didn't stop these guys from coming..."

"I know." Wyatt gritted out impatiently, already worrying about the implications, "I know…". Any day now, John Fraser would be taking Mary to Fort Cumberland and after this attack? Wyatt figured he would probably hog tie them to his wagon and force them to come along…and what would happen then? If this war raged on for seven years, if this land was to become a battleground…how would they ever get home?

And would they want to?

There was no guarantee that Mason had found their message as such, there was a very good chance that their next trip in the Lifeboat would be their last. Was he prepared to risk everything for that slim of a chance at survival?

For Lucy and Rufus he would…knowing how much they had to live for in 2016 – but if were forced to stay here years…Wyatt couldn't help but think that maybe even they would reconsider the risk. Maybe they wouldn't have to live out here…maybe they could find someplace less dangerous…

"I'm just saying," Rufus continued, pulling him out of his thoughts, "if we don't get the hell out of here soon, one or all of us is going to end up dead. It's not just night time attacks by the French and the Indians…it's the typhoid, dysentery, small pox…"

Oh yeah…Wyatt had forgotten about those. Of course, he wasn't at risk for smallpox considering the military had given him a vaccine for that years ago…but what about Lucy? Rufus? He could protect them from just about anything out here…except that…and he didn't want to think about how devastated he would be if he lost either one of them to illness because he had convinced them to stay.

"Don't get me wrong, Wyatt." Rufus continued, "I have absolute faith in your crazy mad survival skills…you've saved our asses more than once…"

Wyatt interrupted, "Um…you saved my ass last night."

"Don't look at me." Rufus dismissed, pointing to Tom, "It was all him. He's the one who suggested we go out to check on you…and well, he's…um…" Rufus trailed off, casting an uneasy glance at Tom who was casually leaning against the door frame.

"What the hell are we going to do about your friend in there?" Wyatt asked in a hoarse whisper, "You don't think he's gonna tell anybody about that gun do you?

"I don't know, Wyatt. To be honest," Rufus remarked with a shrug, "I was less worried about him and more worried about...you know...you not dying."

Wyatt couldn't help but agree but he also knew that, in this mission especially, every single thing they did seemed to come back and bite them in the ass. Having someone form 1754 find out that they were from the future? He might not have been an expert on the space-time continuum garbage that Rufus and Lucy were always harping on about, but he kinda figured that particular revelation would be a problem.

Exchanging a look with Wyatt, Rufus began, "Hey, um…Tom listen about that…that gun…"

Tom eyed him archly and smirked, "You don't have to explain nothing to me. The way I figures, it ain't none of my business."

"Well, um…" Rufus began nervously, "if you could um…maybe not tell anybody else about it. You see it's um…it's um…."

"It's like nothin I ever seen before." Tom replied with a chuckle. "and I seen a lot." He remarked tossing his head towards the crate full of muskets and pistols. "But, like I said, it ain't none of my business." He pushed away from the door frame and made his way back into the forge, "I always figured you all was a might strange…but that's city folk for ya."

Rufus exchanged another look with Wyatt and began hesitatingly, "What if I told you we weren't just from the city?" Wyatt reached out and grabbed Rufus' arm in warning, but Rufus shook him off, adding, "What if we were from…someplace else?"

Tom turned and looked at him, shrugging, "Like I said, it ain't none of my business."

Rufus began to say something more and Wyatt grabbed his arm in warning again, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Do you or do you not want to get out of here?" Rufus hissed back, "Right now, he's our best chance at fixing the LifeBoat…and dammit, after last night, I'm going to take it." Wyatt made to argue again, reminding him that Lucy would probably skin him alive if she knew what he was doing, but Rufus wrenched his arm away and made his way towards Tom, "We haven't been completely honest with you," Rufus started, "about who we are…where we're from…actually," Rufus amended with a quirked lip, "when we're from."

"When you're from?" Tom asked with an amused laugh, "So, you're from another place?" Tom asked, confused.

"Another time." Rufus corrected him, fixing him with a steady gaze. "2016, actually."

Tom let out a loud laugh and clapped his hands together, but when he saw that both Rufus and Wyatt weren't laughing with him, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest with a thoughtful frown, "You ain't kidding?"

"No." Rufus said seriously. "You um…remember when I told you that I had…that I had invented something revolutionary but…but a complete psychopath kinda stole it to do some.."

"Bad things, yeah." Tom nodded thoughtfully. "Like I said, you probably shouldn't have invented it, then."

"Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20" Rufus dismissed defensively, but Tom narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Rufus dismissed in exasperation, It's just…Tom," he began seriously, "I built a time machine – two of them, actually. We," he said pointing back at Wyatt who was nervously rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, "we came here to stop that man – that psychopath from screwing up the past and…he…well, he blew a hole in our machine….and left us stranded here – 262 years away from where we're supposed to be."

Tom shook his head in utter disbelief, "So let me see if I've got this straight. You're telling me that you folks is from 260 years in the future and you came all the way to this place, not Philadelphia or Boston or any such city to save the past?"

"I know it sounds…"

"And," he added, sounding even more incredulous, "you got an honest to goodness time machine out in those woods somewhere? Just sitting there – with the French and Indians running all around?"

Exchanging another look with Wyatt, Rufus nodded, "Yeah…that's what I'm telling you." Rufus scoffed and began pacing the forge as he continued, "I…I know….I know it sounds nuts, but Tom, you gotta believe me, okay? I've been doing everything I can, trying my best to fix it…I mean, that's why I needed to learn how to be a blacksmith…he trailed off shaking his head and shrugging helplessly.

"And you ain't such a great blacksmith." Tom chuckled, "Not meaning any offense, but you don't exactly do the best work."

"I know." Rufus replied in frustration, "I suck at this. I'm….I'm not made for this century…no matter how much I try…I just…"

Tom eyed them both intently, as if trying to determine whether to believe them or not, his face dripping with skepticism. Wyatt was just getting nervous, when Tom set down his coffee mug and shrugged matter of factly, "How can I help you folks get home?"

Notes:

I tried so hard to get this chapter finished before I left on another three week trip, but it didn't happen. It was so close to being finished but I wasn't happy with it...it needed tweaking and so here it is a little later than I had hoped to get it out for you.

For those of you frustrated by this slowest of slow burns...there's a reason for it. Trust me. It's the entire reason I wrote the ending at the same time I wrote the beginning. WE're getting there, I promise -we're working our way towards it...just enjoy Lyatt dancing around each other and making themselves obvious to everyone but themselves, first. It'll be worth it. (I hope)

Tom knows all now and Lucy doesn't know that he knows (yet)...but she's got other things on her mind right now and we'll get to all of that next time.

Thank you so much for reading and for those of you in the US - have a good 4th of July weekend this next week!