Altering Lives

Summary: Whether by choice or by fate, Lucy and Wyatt always find each other, no matter the timeline.

Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless or any other original work (TV, film, book or other) referenced in these one shots.

Pairing: Wyatt/Lucy, some Jiya/Rufus

Rated: T

Warnings: A series of one shots about our favorite time traveling couple. Some will be only slightly AU, some set in a completely different universe to the series. Some may be teeth rottingly fluffy, some will be racy. You have been warned. ;)

Lucy needs a little help with her period dress.

Chapter 4: Fashion Mishap

With the last stitch done, Rufus cut the thread. His hands hadn't been as steady as Wyatt would have liked, but at least he hadn't fainted. The pilot had powered through, holding himself up by his own complaints. Wyatt had wanted to point out that he was the one who'd been shot, the one being operated on, and therefore the only one who really got to complain, but he knew it was just a way for Rufus to vent, allowing him to stay on course rather than run out screaming. So the soldier had suffered the complaints with minimal annoyance.

"Would it be unsanitary if I threw up on you now?" Rufus asked, only half joking.

Wyatt didn't have the energy to chuckle at his discomfort. Besides the gun shot wound and the impending murder of one of his heroes, which he was supposed to just let happen, mind you, guiding Rufus through his crash course in sewing had been exhausting. All he wanted to do now was lay back and get some rest before the horror show of that night awaited him. It wasn't to be, though, because Lucy chose that moment to return from her little trip to the station. Wyatt blinked in surprise when he saw her carrying a box about the size of her voluminous skirts.

"Uh, you went shopping?" He asked incredulously.

"Robert Lincoln invited me to a play," she said by way of explaining, while she deposited the box onto the other bed.

"Play? You mean the play?" Rufus asked, turning around to face her.

"General Grant is gonna be there tonight. Flynn sabotaged the train."

That sure caught Wyatt's attention.

"You saw Flynn," he surmised, worriedly rising from the bed.

"I saw him leaving the train station," she offered, swallowing nervously. "The point is, Grant's gonna be there tonight and I gotta save him."

"How, exactly?" At his dubious tone, Wyatt saw her bristle.

"I don't know. I'll get Grant out of the balcony before Booth shows up, somehow," she suggested, unsure.

"Pretty sure we can come up with a better plan than that," Wyatt replied, grabbing some bandaging material from the nightstand to begin wrapping his torso.

"Well, will these help?" Lucy asked, demonstrating she'd gone shopping for more than a pretty dress. She held up two period guns. Not the best weapons Wyatt had ever worked with, not by a long shot, but better than leaving either her or Rufus defenseless when he couldn't be in several places at the same time tonight to protect them. One of them was also just small enough to fit into Lucy's lady's purse, bag… thing. Wyatt managed a small smile at how prepared she was despite the obvious anxiety.

"And I presume with all of that we're gonna save everybody but Lincoln," Rufus spoke up, sobering them up pretty quickly.

"Rufus," Lucy warned, tired.

"All you have to do is open your mouth to save him, and you're just gonna let Booth shoot him in the head?"

"Do you think any of this is easy for me. My whole life I've idolized Lincoln. When-When I was a little girl, I would memorize his speeches."

"Well, then do something," Rufus implored, but Lucy remained hard.

"We would come back to an entirely different world, and maybe not a better one, Rufus. In our time, Lincoln is remembered as the man who freed the slaves, and he did. But he wasn't half as liberal as people like to think, and part of his call for abolition was about economic considerations… I'm sorry, Rufus, but who knows if the world would be better, or if there would be anything left to come back to at all. The present isn't perfect, but it's ours."

She paused a moment, letting it sink in.

"Awful as it is, what happens to Lincoln is meant to be."

"What about my wife?" Wyatt piped up, curious. "Cause by your logic, bad things happing like my wife's death are meant to be. What, you wouldn't use the time machine to save her either?"

He watched her swallow thickly, unable to look at him, and he knew he had his answer. Still, he remained quiet, waited for her to acknowledge his question. His silence made her uncomfortable enough to look at him. The hard look in her eyes told him everything she couldn't seem to say to his face. She cast her eyes downward again after a moment, avoiding even Rufus' gaze as he, too, looked at her inquisitively.

"Wow," Wyatt faked surprise, knowing even the softness of his voice cut her deeply. Good, he wanted it to hurt, just as her disregard hurt him, and would hurt Lincoln. "You are saying that."

He got up, approached her. He never raised his voice, but he knew just the words to cut into her more.

"Your sister is supposed to live, my wife is supposed to die, is that it?"

"That's not fair."

He ignored her feeble attempt at a defense and went on.

"You just lost your sister," he murmured softly, ready to deal the final blow. "And you're gonna sit next to Robert Lincoln and let him lose his father?"

She swallowed again, glancing between him an Rufus. He could see her tremble from the impact of his words. She knew there was no justification, so she would stay silent, but he also wagered that she would go ahead with the original plan. If nothing else, he had to hand it to her; she was consistent. But she surprised him when she raised her eyes to him again, defiantly, like she knew he'd said all of this for no other reason than to hurt her.

"My sister didn't die, Wyatt, she disappeared from the timeline as a consequence of our meddling with the past. Someone living when they should have died… Now you're asking me to actively change history to achieve the same outcome."

This time it was Wyatt who couldn't look at her. Her dig at Kate Drummond had been well-earned, and she was a lot more polite about it than he had been a moment ago. The Hindenburg mission had been a disaster, not only because of his slip up, but because everything had changed. The zeppelin had survived its fatal landing, sparing countless people who were supposed to die. As a direct consequence of their inability to protect history from Flynn, Lucy had lost her sister. At the time Wyatt hadn't had a problem with all the death at the Hindenburg disaster, and he hadn't rejoiced at so many living to see another day either, only one fate had bothered him, because Kate resembled his late wife. Lucy was holding up a mirror for him to see his own hypocrisy.

"And what about all the people alive in our time, who may never have been born if Lincoln didn't die. What if we got home, and Jiya wasn't there anymore - had never been there, because somewhere down the line, because Lincoln had lived, her parents hadn't met, or one of them had never been born? Or any of us, even? We return, and no one remembers us, because we were never born. If we don't exist, what would happen to us, Rufus, huh? Would we just… cease, or remain as an anomaly or… or what?" She asked, turning to Rufus, until he, too, looked away from her.

The man grunted in acknowledgement. She had a point, and he knew it. No matter how you looked at the problem at hand, there was no good way to deal with it. All the people who might live if they saved him, all the people who would never live if they did - they couldn't simply exchange those lives. Yet wasn't doing nothing just as bad?

Both men looked up at Lucy's wrangled sound of frustration. Because he faced her, Wyatt could see the wet shimmer of her eyes. He saw her bite her lip to keep from crying in front of them, and suddenly, though no less angry at her for her callousness toward Jess, he felt guilty for how cruelly he had treated her. This wasn't easy for her, either. All those lives they wouldn't save, President Lincoln's own first among them, weighed heavily on her conscience already. As a civilian, she had never learned to handle any of this, to compartmentalize like he did, and with a wary glance between his two teammates Wyatt wondered how long these mission could go on without either or both of them snapping under the pressure.

"Excuse me, I-I have to change," Lucy told them with a gasp, hastily grabbing the box and disappearing behind a screen that stood in the corner of the room. Wyatt had wondered what that was for. He didn't doubt that (alleged) sisters weren't supposed to undress in front of their (fake) brothers, but what if they'd been mistaken for a married couple. Were women supposed to hide from their husbands too? Just as well, Wyatt thought. It offered Lucy a chance to escape, and saved him and Rufus the awkwardness of having to turn around. Particularly given that the soldier wasn't sure he would fare any better this time than he had in their cell at the Hindenburg.

Thinking about the sight of her smooth, creamy back made him wonder what she would look like now as he and Rufus settled in the chairs on the other side of the screen. He figured she wouldn't need to remove the corset, as it went under her new dress too, so she would probably be mostly covered by their standards. Still, something about the thought of Lucy in her underwear made his earlier anger coupled with his curiosity - a wholly academic interest, of course - slowly simmer into something else. Something growing dangerously beneath the surface since she'd told him off for calling her ma'am.

He couldn't help the small smirk that touched his lips when he remembered how offended she had sounded. At that point, he simply had to see what this woman pretty much the same age as him looked like as she scowled at him. He had expected more of a wallflower, to be honest, or someone with a more matronly countenance, so Lucy's aristocratic features surrounded by a cloud of dark hair shimmering under the ceiling lights had taken him rather aback. Attraction had been an automatic response, and hardly an unusual one, even if he definitely preferred blondes with more curves over Lucy's slim athletic build.

It had been on the mission to the Hindenburg when he'd watched her think on her feet more than once, even mobilizing the whole air field to find Flynn, while he himself had been utterly useless with all his military training, that he'd realized that first spark of attraction had nestled itself deeper into his battered heart than he'd have liked. And it had been her compassion, rather than pity, when he'd told her about his wife's death had made that same spark flare brightly, that had drawn his sight to her when he knew a gentleman would have looked away. His grandfather would have been so disappointed in him, but he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her. She was like a flame dancing in front of him, and he a moth drawn by its brightness. Afterwards, he'd chalked it up to the stress of the mission, the shock of time travel and the fact that she was the first woman he'd been in close proximity to for an extended amount of time while almost completely sober, and that had been that.

Until now.

"Uhm, guys," Lucy's voice reached them tentatively. Shyly. "I'm sorry, but I need a hand."

Wyatt and Rufus looked at the screen, then at each other, blinking in lack of understanding.

"Guys?"

"Don't look at me," Rufus snorted. "I played doctor today. You can play maidservant."

Wyatt scrunched up his nose, but got up with a sigh. He slowly rounded the side of the screen, unsure what he would find on the other side. Lucy was trying desperately to reach the little bit of thread that tied he dress, contorting herself this way and that. The sight was so comical that Wyatt huffed out a laugh at her expense, which earned him a dirty look from their historian.

"Here to help, ma'am, and I even brought two hands," he teased her. She flushed a bright red color, but turned around and pointed at the top of her dress. Wyatt saw that she'd already managed to undo the ties, but she couldn't pull them out of the loops they'd been tied through. Which went all the way down her back. Wyatt swallowed at the sight. He approached Lucy until he could reach the criss-crossing threads and pull them out. The first time he pulled, he'd caught the wrong ones, tightening the dress rather than loosening it. Lucy gasped in discomfort.

"Sorry," he offered softly. This time he made sure to catch the right ones, and, instead of yanking on them like he'd done before, he gently pulled them away until they came apart.

This went on for a few moments, Wyatt's brow furrowed in concentration, until Lucy muttered a quiet "Thanks."

His concentration broken, he realized that he had stepped closer to her in the process, and that the back of her dress was coming apart. He could see the skin of her upper shoulder blades before some kind of chemise obscured his view. It was thin, though, and Wyatt noticed that the heat of Lucy's body radiated through the garment as he undid more threads. If he looked up a little further, he could see the column of her neck, for once not hidden behind the curtain of her hair. It was pinned up neatly, only a few strands falling out of place for effect. It looked rather fetching on her, he thought, as the last threads came free, and he stepped back with an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

It was over. He was about to retreat when her voice stopped him.

"Uhm, Wyatt… I… I c-can't-" Her blush intensified as she glanced warily between him and the still unopened dress box. It took him a moment to understand what she tried to say. If she couldn't undress on her own, she couldn't dress on her own either. So what exactly were the screens for if the women needed a hand anyway, his mind briefly wondered, as he steeled himself.

"You need some h-help with that? Sure." Wyatt hated how much he sounded like an insecure teenager. He meant to say more, a little more confidently, but then his mouth went dry when his earlier fantasies caught up with him. Lucy hurriedly stepped out of the dress she'd held up with her arms across her chest until then, and hung it over the screen. Wyatt felt his stomach drop at what Rufus must be thinking they might be doing here at the sight of it. He only had a split second to worry about it, though, because then his mind came to a screeching halt at the sight of Lucy in her underwear.

While she turned toward the box, he took in the chemise that fell to her knees, the plain white stockings that rose up to just under her knees, and the corset that covered her torso, shaping her body. The outfit actually left much to the imagination, but it was still flimsy enough that he could see the dark shape of Lucy's legs underneath the garment's skirt. He thought he might have given a small whimper, but if Lucy had heard, she thankfully gave no indication, rather moved to step into the new dress. A cream-colored satiny gown with delicate light blue and white flowers for decoration. He stepped closer again, intent on helping her pull it up and close it, but when his hand brushed her waist, she hissed in obvious pain and flinched away from his touch. She looped her arms through the straps and cast him a quick glance, asking him wordlessly to fasten her up, but that wasn't what held Wyatt's interest right then.

"Lucy, what… what was that?" He asked, worriedly. Doubly worried, because when he approached, reaching out to her waist again, she shrank away from him. "Lucy?"

He wouldn't physically hurt her, not intentionally. Surely she knew that, even after his mouth had run away with him earlier. He just wanted to know what had happened. Who had hurt her - and if it had been Flynn earlier or her unknown fiancé. He wanted to know who it was and he wanted to make them pay. Lucy must have seen his concern, or his rage, or both, because she extended a hand to rest gently against his forearm.

"It's nothing, Wyatt, just the corset," she told him.

"Huh?" Wyatt blinked, surprised. He didn't know much about corsets, but he supposed he did know that they were said to be uncomfortable, and hadn't he heard somewhere that they compressed the chest enough that ladies used to faint with any strenuous activity, even dancing. Or sometimes randomly. His eyes flitted to Lucy's. He'd never thought about it in relation to her. What if they had to run away during a mission? Would Lucy be able to run, let alone keep up with them? He hadn't even considered that before. If he'd thought about it at all, he figured Jiya would be careful not to draw it too tightly. As if reading his mind again, she began to elaborate.

"Mine's already not as tight as it technically should be by today's fashion, but… well, I'm still pressed into it. Makes it a little harder to breathe, and it digs into my sides. I'm pretty sure I'll find welts when I finally peel myself out of this."

She said it with a chuckle, but Wyatt could find absolutely nothing amusing about her discomfort. Besides the danger it might pose on missions if Lucy were worn down by her own clothes, wasn't this detrimental to her health? Surely they could come up with something more modern and safe, anachronisms be damned.

"That- May I… May I see?"

It was Lucy's turn to blink in surprise.

"Uh-"

"I mean if it's not- I mean, forget I said anything."

"After the mission," Lucy offered. "If I take it off now, I won't be putting it back on."

There was a knock on the door, one of the pages calling for Miss Shakesman in Robert Lincoln's name. She called back that she'd be down in a moment, and turned her back to him again.

"Besides, it's show time," she muttered, while he laced her up.

"Tell me if it's too tight," he asked her.

"Compared to the corset, you can't make it worse," she promised, though it did nothing to reassure him. When he was done, she turned around with a small flourish, smoothing down her dress and raising her arms for his judgment. Wyatt couldn't help but smile encouragingly at her, even if the strain from earlier did rear its ugly head again.

TimelessTimelessTimelessTimelessTimelessTimeless

Every yank on the threads made her flinch, and made Jiya apologize under her breath. She could both see and feel the way Lucy flinched at every little jostle, even as the damn corset slowly gave way and she could breathe with a little more ease. She shuddered to think what it must have been like to wear the stupid thing almost all day, her back ramrod straight and practically unable to relax, every wrong move a stab in the side, her breasts both pushed up for men's viewing pleasure and squished so she could take in no more air at a time than a shallow breath would allow. Jiya had been careful not to tie the corset too tightly, but it had to be close enough to the real things to pass inspection, which, Lucy had informed her, was constant and often vicious in the society of the day. A woman of loose dress was a woman of loose morality.

"Almost done, Lucy, only a few more," the technician tried to encourage her friend. She heard her hum through gritted teeth, but before she could loosen those final few threads, Jiya heard the door to the women's locker room open slowly behind her. When she turned around, she wasn't sure whether to change her office bet (they started early here at Mason Industries), or to give Wyatt Logan the longest, harshest and loudest #MeToo speech anyone had ever heard. A look at Lucy's anxious face, and she settled on the latter. "Logan, this is not a peep show, so you can shov-"

"No, it's okay, Jiya. We- uh, can you… Please give us a moment," Lucy asked of her. To say Jiya was surprised was an understatement. She was sure she'd read trepidation on Lucy's face at Wyatt's entrance, but her voice was clear if a little on the quiet side. "Please."

"Okay, I'm going to get some coffee. Send Wyatt for me when you're done."

Lucy nodded without looking at her. Neither she nor Wyatt moved until Jiya closed the door behind her.

"Listen, I didn't mean to- I-if you've changed your mind-"

"No, it's fine," Lucy assured him, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she turned around again. "We were almost done. C-could you…"

Without a word, Wyatt stepped to the task. He was already finished with the doc and back in his street clothes, having it much easier than Lucy when it came to getting undressed. He removed the last threads, and the corset fell open. Lucy held it against her chest for some semblance of modesty, but let him part the garment further. She'd also put on some leggings so he could push up the chemise she'd worn underneath. When he'd revealed her back, Wyatt couldn't contain his horrified gasp. What caught his attention first were not the angry red welts that he could see from the corner of his eyes, but how white her skin was.

He'd seen her back before, and knew it was pale, but now it looked almost ghostly, like the corset had pressed so tightly against her skin that it had interfered with her circulation, not enough oxygen getting to the outermost layer. With the corset gone now, he could practically see the circulation resuming its natural pattern, her skin blooming an angry red color and likely itching all over. He cast his eyes down to where he suspected the corset had dug into her even more strongly. The welts were a darker shade of red and stood out against the rest of her skin, sore and puckered. He touched the skin just surrounding it only lightly, but even that made her flinch in pain.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I knew history was… easier on me, being a white man, and I guess I expect racism and sexism in the past, but I never spent a second thinking that even your clothes would try to murder you. Rufus at least can… This is wrong. You shouldn't have to suffer like this for a role."

"That's the job."

"It shouldn't be. There has to be a better way."

"I can't take modern underwear to the past."

"I take a modern gun-"

"Against my better judgement."

"Noted. And I hate to repeat myself, but who's going to see your bra? Even if you were husband-shopping in the 1800s, Robert Todd Lincoln wouldn't have seen you naked until you were married, right?" He teased her with a chuckle, enjoying the slight smirk he got in return even as it puzzled him.

"Probably not even then," she informed him cheekily.

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me they had… had sex with their clothes on."

"Not everyone, perhaps. But nakedness was generally discouraged… I mean, why did you think there was a screen in our room. One of the female staff would come up and help the lady dress away from her husband's prying eyes."

"So people in the past were no fun," Wyatt concluded with a chuckle. Then he blinked. He'd somehow managed to inch closer to Lucy in their banter, so that now only a few inches separated him from her lips. She still had her back on him, and her grip on the corset tightened, but the way she looked at him over her shoulder was more akin to an invitation than a warning. An alluring invitation, making him breathe more deeply to take in her scent. There was still blood and dirt in the air, the faint scent of her perfume and something almost spicy coming from her hair. Wyatt hovered on the spot in indecision.

There it was again, that damned spark. Flaring to life inside his chest. His heart beat all the faster for it, excited. The flutter in his stomach when Lucy noticed his interest and her eyes darkened in response made him drift even closer to her. He watched her eyes flutter shut. Her lashes brushed against his skin and then he brought their lips together in a tentative kiss. It was only a peck, both of them retreating right away as if in shock at the touch, but they couldn't deny the effect it had on them. Their eyes were almost black with the pupils blown wide, their lips parted and tingling from the soft caress of the other's mouth. Their breath mingled as they waited. What for, they didn't know. Even the thought of Jess, and of his betrayal of her didn't seem to carry the usual sting.

Until it did.

Wyatt wrenched himself away suddenly. Suddenly overwhelmed. Suddenly lost. Suddenly angry. At her. At himself. At the whole damn universe, and God, and the force, and her goddamn meant-to-bes. Part of him wanted to lash out at her for having made him betray his wife, but he knew better. He'd been the one to take her up on her wordless, and likely unintended, invitation. He'd been the one to surge forward and press his mouth to hers, relishing in its delicate touch and its sweet taste. He'd been the one seduced by his own desire for her. She had barely responded to the kiss. What if she hadn't wanted it at all, and merely been too kind to push him away?!

"I'm sorry, Wyatt," she murmured softly, her eyes downcast, a look of utter devastation on her face.

Now his heart clenched in earnest. He hadn't meant to hurt her, either by his advance, or by his sudden retreat. The soldier chuckled mirthlessly. What a mess he'd created. By no fault of her own, Lucy was now his teammate, fast becoming his friend, apparently an object of his desire and daydreaming, and someone he already abhorred coming to care more deeply for. Which he knew he would, he could feel it. If he let it happen, she would grow in his heart to be at least as important to him as his beloved wife. Wyatt stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at Lucy watching him with growing concern. The apology still shone in her eyes, even as she could barely meet his gaze.

He took a moment to take stock of his situation. He had a wife who'd been wrongfully murdered, and whom he still loved, even if their final months (years) together hadn't been ideal. He owed it to her to try to bring her back. Yet he knew that was not how things normally went. Death was, normally, irreversible. People, even those who felt guilty like him, had to learn to accept it and… move on. Now, in front of him was another strong young woman. Learned, successful, clever, kind, classy, and generally way out of his league, who still harbored an obvious interest in him. Wyatt knew whomever Lucy loved would be a lucky man, and sometimes he hoped…

But could he… move on? Did he want to? He looked at her a moment longer, the way she slowly retreated, shamed by her perceived trespass. He'd been the one who'd trespassed, kissing her when she wasn't the only woman on his mind. He wouldn't kiss her again until she was. As the thought entered his mind, he realized that he wanted to kiss her again. His heart beat faster, her taste still imprinted on his lips. He stepped forward again, wrapping his arms around her petite form. He felt her tense for only a moment, then the tension melted away and he felt her melt into him, pliant in his arms. He held her closely, strongly, but mindful of her sore body he kept his arms around her shoulders where the corset hadn't damaged her skin. He held her like a lover. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Lucy," he promised her. "I don't know what the future will bring or what I should do with it, but… I'm working on it. I just need time. Can… Can you give me that?"

He looked down at the crown of her head. Her dark hair shifted to reveal her beautiful face, a few tears streaking down her cheeks.

"All the time in the world."

The End

A/N: Depending on the material and the particular mode of dress, they didn't have to have detrimental effects like the ones described here. I'm exaggerated for the sake of the story. However, tight-lacing was not exactly uncommon, nor was the use of corsets on young girls, which could have severe consequences for their growth and health. In any case, I'm glad I'm not forced to wear one.