Alternate 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. Also, I sometimes write long, like, really long, oneshots. I apologize in have been warned. ;)

A/N: Okay, so this was vaguely inspired by The Little Mermaid… and yes, I know how that sounds. It's exactly as insane as you probably think.

Chapter 7: Song of the Sea

The first time he saw her was by chance. He was only looking for a little solitude to escape the other's well-meaning, but irritating looks of compassion. He tried to avoid the word pity, though he knew it fit as well. Not all of them, but many; he would sometimes hear them whisper when he turned his back. Never loud enough to make out the words, but never so quiet he wasn't keenly aware that they spoke about him. So, to avoid anyone he knew, he came here to (t)his forgotten little cove to brood in peace. After his grandfather's passing, he came more and more often to be alone with his thoughts and that's when he saw her. Or, rather, heard her, at first. Suddenly, his brooding was interrupted when a soft woeful song suddenly drifted over to him. His ears had perked up and, against his will entranced by the beautiful voice he'd made to discover where it came from. He'd spotted a figure perching on a rock not to far off coast, head leaned back to gaze at the clouds and singing to the endless blue sky. He had kept low as he approached so as not to spook her. The closer he had gotten, the clearer her voice had rung out, gentle but powerful, carried across the waves by a light breeze.

Her expression had been so serene as she sang, he had been almost envious. Her dark locks curled easily around her face, a slender white neck barely setting itself apart from the froth that sprung up all around her where she rested against the rock. As she had continued singing, Wyatt had stayed hidden and just listened to her. Her voice had softened and risen again with the song's rhythm like the tide rose and waned with the moon. High, light tones passed into darker, heavy ones where appropriate and the sheer range of her voice had perhaps surprised him the most. But he had been most fascinated at how at peace she had been, perching there precariously with the spray whipping about her. What skin he could see sparkled in a million different colors like iridescent scales.

After that, Wyatt had found her again a few times, sitting out on the rocks. And though, he went out there to be alone, he always moved to watch and listen to her as she abandoned herself to her music. He couldn't resist the sound of her happiness. Slowly his visits had become less about wallowing in self-pity and more about catching another glimpse of this wondrous creature. He'd never seen one like her before after all, at least not so close, and with every visit he became a little bolder. Sneaked a little closer. Until he could make out more of her features like her high cheek bones, or the dark amber color of her eyes. Once he saw them, he also saw the sorrow in them, and he knew that she was not as happy and carefree as he had initially presumed. Perhaps he should have guessed, as she often sang of unfulfilled love. Still, he had noticed that singing seemed to make her heart lighter and lift her spirits, for when she left, with a quick, graceful dive into the ocean, she always had a smile on her face.

Until that day. Wyatt had begun to return to their spot almost every day to find her again. He had taken note of the days and times he had seen her and kept to them almost religiously. More often than not, he was rewarded with her presence and her song. Today, though, it seemed a chore to her as she climbed onto her rock. Her face was drawn, that he could see even through the curtain of her hair, for that day she did not feel like raising her head to the heavens. When she began to sing, her voice croaked and he winced. She sounded more like him that day. It took a few more attempts before she managed anything resembling a tune. Still, her voice was dull, listless - he'd never heard her like that. Without thinking, he approached more, leaving the cover of the other rocks sparsely dropped into the water like a giant's marbles.

The woman gasped, and Wyatt realized his mistake. She had spotted him. She grew tense, ready to crawl further onto the rock away from him. Perhaps ready to jump into the waves to flee. He extended his arms and hands, hoping to show that he meant her no harm as he slowly swam closer until she could get a better look at him. He saw her blink at him, surprised to find another soul in this abandoned place. Wyatt stopped his approach a few feet from her, hopefully far enough to still give her a sense of security but close enough that they could converse over the steady sound of the waves.

"I'm sorry I startled you," he began. "I just… I heard you sing and..." He didn't finish, unsure how to continue and how much to reveal, though the woman certainly seemed to have an idea.

"And how long have you been listening?" She asked suspiciously.

Wyatt felt his cheeks grow hot. She'd guessed right, and he'd been caught.

"Longer than I care to admit."

"So you spied on me?!" She demanded, tensing further until her hands curled into angry fists.

"I- Well, I suppose, technically… " She made to leave, but Wyatt didn't want that. If she left now, she might not return, the place spoiled for her purpose by his presence. He didn't want to be the reason the cove became lost to her, so he swam over in a rush until he was right beside the rock. He reached out with one hand to gently take hold of her wrist. She gasped in surprise, clearly not having expected him to move this fast through the sea. "Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude upon your solitude. I… I often come here for some peace and quiet too. That's when I first heard you sing, and you sang so beautifully, I couldn't resist."

She bit her lip momentarily, taking in his words. He could still feel the tension through his grip on her wrist, but at least she hadn't fled yet, so he would count that as a win and went on.

"At first, I only listened when I had the chance, when you happened to be here too. But then, I have have to admit, I began to come here regularly at times when I had seen you here before. I came to listen to you."

"Because I sing so beautifully?" Her words were quiet, but still disbelieving. It was Wyatt's turn to bite his lip, unsure of how much he should say. It was a constant point of contention at home; never openly acknowledged, but always gossiped about behind his back. He chanced a glance up at her nervous, worried eyes, and realized that he'd made her so. She deserved an explanation, and after she'd unknowingly revealed so much of her herself while he listened from the shadows, she deserved some reciprocation.

"I have no voice," he admitted. He couldn't continue to look at her as he said this, so he looked away in embarrassment. A beat of silence passed between them, then another. He could feel her confusion as she tried to interpret his cryptic message, but he could not put it more plainly. Already his heart burned with the shame of his defect and now its revelation to an outsider. After another moment, he was ready to let go and flee across the waves himself when he suddenly felt her wrist turn in his grip until she was holding onto him as well, the soft pad of her thumb brushing over his pulse point. Wyatt took in a shuddering breath before he looked up into her amber eyes.

"Everyone can sing," she informed him softly. He wanted to scoff - as if he had not heard that a million times - but when she said it, it was not patronizing, it wasn't a reminder of his shortcomings. He could tell she really believed what she had said, that everyone, even a poor retch like him could do it. "It may take some practice, but-"

He shook his head and she stopped.

"You don't understand. Singing, it's innate. Where I come from, everyone can sing. Even infants. Everyone, except me."

She blinked at him.

"Well, I couldn't. Not until I learned. Maybe so must you."

Wyatt was about to open his mouth to protest when another voice rang over the ocean.

"Lucy!" Another woman, and judging by the reaction of the woman - Lucy - beside him, she was not expected.

"Lucy!"

"Lucy!"

Her name rang out a few more times, a male voice now joining the woman's. If anything, Lucy grew paler and tenser than she'd been before, even right after she'd discovered Wyatt had stalked her for some time now. Her name rose over the waves, the voices becoming louder and, Wyatt noted, more indignant. Lucy, meanwhile, had apparently no intention of responding. Instead, she wrenched her hand from him and hastily ducked against the rock, gripping it tightly with both her hands to steady herself as the ocean pushed and pulled at her now submerged legs. Wyatt watched with some confusion as two figures appeared on beach. An elderly woman who, despite her lighter hair, resembled Lucy enough that he guessed her to be her mother. She was accompanied by a young man, tall and lean with dark hair, prancing alongside Lucy's mother like a seahorse. The closer they got, the smaller Lucy tried to make herself against her rock.

"Lucy!" The man called again, then scoffed in anger. "Where is that girl now?! Always running off, shucking her responsibilities!"

"Lucy takes her duties very seriously, Noah. She just likes some time off, like everyone, but she knows her place and purpose."

"She better. Rittenhouse needs this alliance. Lucy can't afford to daydream or dawdle." Wyatt heard Lucy huff angrily under her breath at the admonishment.

"I'll be sure to remind her when we find her," her mother replied.

"Well, we certainly won't find her here!" The man, Noah, replied in exasperation. Slowly, still repeatedly calling out to her, they left the beach again. When he alerted Lucy to this fact, she heaved a small sigh of relief and made to climb onto the rock again, but her hand slipped. She lost her grip and tumbled down into the froth. Wyatt was by her side immediately to support her and keep her head above water. He saw a small pool of red form on her forehead where she must have hit the rock. He examined it a little further, but it wasn't serious.

Lucy's arms came around him, her hands resting on his shoulders to help hold herself up. When she'd gotten over the initial shock of the tumble, she began to tread water, accidentally kicking him in her attempt to steady herself. She took a quick, surprised breath when she felt her feet brush against his scales, and Wyatt winced. Lucy backed away a little as if to take a better look at him, though she couldn't see beyond the surface of the water with how unsteady the ocean was, so she looked up at his face again.

"You… You're a merman! A real life merman?!"

He gave her a careless shrug and a bold smile that he didn't really feel, but he didn't back away. Or worse, pull her into the deep to keep his secret, although every law, every custom, and every instinct told him she couldn't know this. He couldn't let her know this and go tell others of her discovery. Although, he rationalized, who would believe a lone woman claiming to have lain in the arms of a merman. Her own people would call her mad and shun her.

"You're real?" She asked, disbelieving. One hand drifted absentmindedly from his shoulder. It had reached his ribcage and was heading further south before she realized what she was doing. With a blush, she let go of him, pulling herself away to hold onto the rock instead of onto him, but her gaze stayed fixed on him as she shyly offered her apology. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Wyatt responded easily enough. It was only fair that she be as fascinated with him as he'd been with her. And, since he'd looked his fill while he'd spied on her singing, he supposed it was only fair that she, too, got to do the same. So he climbed onto the rock next to her, careful to make sure first that no one else was there to spot him. Once he was safely perched on it, he extended a hand to help her back up.

Lucy blinked at it.

"Defective I may be, but I'm nonetheless a gentlemerman, you have my word."

Lucy snorted a little, and let him help her back up onto the rock. Her hair and skin were soaked and Wyatt couldn't help but notice how the droplets on her skin glistened in the sunlight.

"Why do you say that of yourself? You don't seem defective to me," she wondered as she looked him over. Her head was slightly cast to the side as she considered him. The upper body of a man transitioned into an opalescent silver scaled tail, long enough that its fin still rested in the water. She couldn't spot it clearly from her position, because he lay sideways to face her, but she thought she saw the tips of a translucent dorsal fin that shimmered green and gold in a stream of sunlight behind his back. "You look perfect to me."

He raised an eyebrow, and she seemed to realize what she'd said.

"I meant, you look like a perfectly regular specimen of… Well, not that I know anything about merfolk, but I mean… I imagine this is what they- you would look like. Actually, I hadn't thought about a dorsal fin, but I guess it makes sense in order to keep position in the water or… or something…"

Wyatt laughed out loud at her rambling. Louder, and clearer, and much more heartfelt than he had in a while. After a moment of flummoxed, then offended silence, Lucy joined him in his merriment, though she only smiled as she watched him laugh. He'd seemed so tightly wound earlier when he'd confessed that he'd watched her. Then again just now when he'd called himself such an ugly word. Defective? He wasn't defective. He had a nice laugh, and he had been kind to catch her. He had been shy and curious and he was handsome enough, at least by human standards. Why would he ever call himself that? Who had taught him so? Lucy's heart gave a painful squeeze and her belly clenched in anger for this stranger - this merman - at the thought of negligent parents and cruel children. On an impulse, she grasped his hand. His laughter slowly died, and he grabbed onto her hand in return, interlacing their fingers.

"Why?" She asked again.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, instead he looked down at their joined hands, so she gave him a reassuring squeeze. She saw his mouth twitch up into a grateful smile.

"I told you, I have no voice."

"Not like your people," she remembered.

When Wyatt looked out to sea because he couldn't stand the tension anymore, he didn't expect to feel her hand disentangle itself from his. Before he could think, glumly, that he should have, because what else could a defective fish like him expect from a human of such grace, he felt it burn against his cheek instead. Her skin was hot by comparison to his. His was cooled by the depths in which he lived, but hers was constantly exposed to the warm sun. He relished the warmth, more than he had expected. Perhaps more than he should have. He looked up at the feel of her touch against his face.

"Every merchild is born with the ability to sing. We sing before we speak. It is said that the first tunes we sing in life define our soul, but I could not…"

He looked away again.

"I got it from my mother, I suppose. She was the sweetest woman I have ever known - kind, generous, loving - but she was not…" He stopped himself abruptly, shook his head and moved on. "I'm not like them. I know it, and they know it. I… I have been an outcast since I was born."

"I'm sorry. I know what it is like to be different than expected," she offered softly, gazing toward the shore unseeing. Lost, perhaps, in her own unhappy childhood full of expectations she could not meet. He resolved to ask her about it, soon, so she may unburden her heart the way she let him unburden his. Finally, she turned back toward him. "And no one tried to teach you?"

"How can you teach what you never had to learn because it is seared across your soul?"

Lucy gave a slow smile.

"Then perhaps we were meant to find each other."

He cocked his head to the side with a uncomprehending smile.

"Well, I told you, it can take a lot of practice for us humans to learn how to sing. It doesn't run in our blood. So I had to learn from someone who learned before me, and now, maybe, you can learn from me."

"You… you want to teach me? How to sing?"

"Why not? It's worth a try," Lucy suggested.

Wyatt pondered this for a moment. There was no precedent. It was unheard of for a merman to learn how to sing, and from a human, no less. Then again, it was also unheard of for a merman not to be able to sing in the first place. So, perhaps, if he indeed hadn't been born with the ability, he could learn? Wyatt hated to get his hopes up, and tried to squash it as soon as he felt the first spark, but then he looked into Lucy's earnest face. He thought about how he listened to her sing her songs of woe, how she'd hidden herself from her mother and that man, possibly her promised one. Wyatt didn't know why the thought discomfited him so, but it led him to think about keeping her here a little longer, a little more often as she helped him find his voice. Here, where she'd appeared freer and happier than she seemed with her family. He felt her hand still burn against his cold skin, and nodded. It was worth a try.

"Then I just need to know one more thing," Lucy told him.

"Anything," he offered with a sure smile.

"What is your name?"

End

A/N: I don't even know where the idea for this one came from.