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, one shots. I apologize in have been warned. ;)

A/N: A Soulmate AU but without the sneak previews tattooed onto people's skin. I Don't know, I think this one is a little weird, but I liked the idea that your world might tilt on its axis at any word from any person, and you never know when it might hit you.

Chapter 8: No Sneak Peeks

The problem was that you never knew when it would hit you. Or where the hit would come from. All the while, there your are thinking you have someone that you love or loathe or anything in between from the bottom of your heart, and then - wham! - the words come, and they twist you inside out. Your entire life would turn on its axis, your skin would prickle like a thunderstorm was passing over it, and your intended idiot might be completely oblivious to what they'd just done.

It would be so much easier if you could just know right away. First meeting, first words, and you knew you were meant for each other, but that was not how it worked. Even if you you could take a peak at the words that were meant to do you in, it could still be anyone, anytime, in any situation, but fate didn't even give you that! Born with uncertainty, living in wait; Lucy had hated it. She would have much preferred to live in a world without soulmates or meant-to-bes. A world were you could build a life without waiting for the other shoe to drop. She couldn't believe a few words written invisibly across her heart would affect her whole life. That they would make her happiness. Or break it.

"I agree with him, but I trust you," Wyatt proclaimed in the heat of an argument in the middle of their escape from the Nazis.

He immediately turned to face Fleming and went on to say something more, but Lucy didn't hear anything over the sound of her own blood pumping frantically in her ears. She felt herself heat up, almost to a boil, while a thousand invisible needles pricked her skin. Her heart burned as if the words were trying to brand themselves into the capricious organ. She sucked in a desperate breath of air. She was close to hyperventilation, she could feel it. She vaguely registered Wyatt's worried question, then his assurance that he'd defend them, and she was grateful he seemed to think she was crumbling at their hopeless situation.

Lucy waved his concerns away, and he refocused himself on some ridiculous plan of defense that would get him, get them all, killed. She told him so, just to prove to herself that she could talk to him without crumbling further. Her blood sang when he glanced back at her, but she squashed the feeling. Viciously. Still, she had to look away, anywhere but at him, and her gaze fell on the fireplace again. It had intrigued her earlier, and now that she glanced at it again, desperately searching for a way out of… well everything, she realized why. It was almost like a veil lifting when she suddenly realized what the fish meant. To the concerned eyes of her comrades, Lucy began frantically passing her fingers over the symbol, until it gave way and the priest hole opened to them, allowing them a narrow escape from their enemies.

The rest of the mission passed like a blur to Lucy, or so she liked to think. Suddenly, every one of her interactions with Wyatt came into stark contrast, as she was hyper aware of him - and of her secret - all the time. For his part, their soldier cast her a few weird looks when she started to keep her distance and keep their conversations to a polite minimum. They'd never been particularly close, despite the extreme situations they'd been thrown into together, and she'd thought that might change for a brief moment when he helped her get over the hump, but now it couldn't.

"I can't believe we pulled this off," she couldn't help but tell him, though. "Thanks for getting me over the hump."

It was general enough that it shouldn't cause any reaction in him, any recognition. And it didn't. Lucy breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Yeah, well, don't get all soft on me. Flynn still got a nuke," Wyatt replied with a huff and a suspicious glance in her direction when she merely hummed in agreement. Lucy mostly ignored him after that, and rather focused herself on Ian, because Ian was safe if a little flirty.

After they made it back, discovered a new Bond film and some new theories of what Flynn might do with his nuke, Lucy secluded herself in the women's locker room. It was late and she didn't need Jiya to help her get in and out of cumbersome period dresses, so she had the whole thing to herself. As she methodically undressed, the emotions of the day threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to cry. Not there, not then. She'd go home, open a bottle of wine, maybe break into an ice cream container, and then, only then, would she allow herself to fall apart. She couldn't stop a whimper from escaping her, though, because the day had just sucked, start to finish. As if Nazi Germany wasn't bad enough, her words had been offered to her by a man she could never be with.

Oh, Lucy wasn't blind. She knew Wyatt was attractive, and not just because of his pretty face or Southern drawl. He was kind, brave and honorable. Anything a woman could wish for in a soulmate, presuming her words were even destined for him - whatever they may be. Unfortunately, Wyatt was also completely and utterly unavailable, because he was still deeply in love with his late wife, and guilt-ridden over her death. Lucy didn't have to know what happened to see what was plainly on his face. Given that, it was quite possible, even likely that he was not meant for her at all.

Lucy sank down on the nearest bench with a sigh. It was a moot point to contemplate all this. She could not change it either way. She had two options - to tell Wyatt, or not to tell him - and she knew which one she'd choose. Wyatt wanted to get Jessica back. He didn't need to be burdened with the knowledge that he'd spoken someone else's words, and she didn't need his pity. Lucy took a shuddering breath.

That was that. Time to go home and wallow properly. At least now she had a reason to break up with her unknown fiancé if she so chose. She sighed again. A bad situation made worse.

But that was that.

TimelessTimelessTimelessTimelessTimelessTimeless

Until it wasn't. Because Wyatt wasn't blind either and he knew when someone avoided him. Lucy had avoided him the past few days. Like the plague, in fact. When he'd had suggested they go to a bar to celebrate their survival of the darkest chapter in history with a good glass of Remy Martin 23, she'd said she was too tired. When he then suggested they could postpone it to the next day, she had made up some story about helping her mother with research, doing some of her own on Rittenhouse, and scouting possible other tipping points Flynn might go to, and having to meet her fiancé at some point. Basically, she had given way too many excuses for simply not wanting to go. If you added that she was taciturn around him, mostly addressing Rufus while giving him generic, clipped answers, he could only surmise that something was wrong and that he had somehow caused a problem between them. True, he hadn't always been the nicest guy when it came to their historian - snapping at her, dismissing her insights, ignoring her orders regarding the protection of history - but he had thought they'd made progress in Germany. Apparently, there had been a set back, only he didn't know what it was.

And now he might never find out, because aside from being headed for the Alamo (another place he never wanted to see Lucy… or Rufus), he had also just been fired, so unless she spilled her guts on the mission, he guessed he would never know. Then again, Wyatt figured, after this mission, it wouldn't matter anymore, since he would go back to Pendleton and likely never see her again. Considering all of this, he figured he may as well give Flynn's elimination his all on this mission. Lucy was less than pleased at what that meant if her glare, first concerned then withering, was anything to go by. Another time she might have said something, but with their new dynamic she simply pressed her lips together in a thin line and remained quiet.

"Uh, Wyatt…" It was Rufus who broke the silence. "Are those… grenades? In the Life Boat? With us? On a bumpy ride?"

"Don't worry, Rufus, they are secure," Wyatt reassured his friend. "If it's going to be my last shot at stopping Flynn, I'll take it."

"Your last?"

He glanced between Rufus and Lucy, wondering if this would get a reaction from their historian.

"I was just fired. This will be my last trip."

He didn't really take note of Rufus' reaction because he was to focused on Lucy's. She sucked in an audible breath, her eyes going wide in concern, almost panic, and her mouth began to form the words to protest. So she cared, Wyatt concluded, even as the professor quickly schooled her features again and suppressed whatever she had meant to say. He watched her swallow, knowing she had to say something. Anything. Finally, she looked him directly in the eye and addressed him.

"Why? Why now?"

"It's a result-oriented mission, and I haven't delivered any," Wyatt explained calmly.

"You seem oddly at ease with this," Rufus remarked, his glance flitting again to the grenades.

"One last chance; I'm gonna give it my all. After all, what could they do to me? Fire me again?!" He chuckled, and noticed Rufus answering smile, uncertain as it was. Lucy, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her gaze was lowered, but by the unfocused look on her face he doubted she even saw the ground. He could practically see her thoughts zipping around behind her burnt caramel eyes, though he could not identify them. Did she think to protest? Would she miss him? Was she glad to be rid of him and his reckless, hot-headed manner? Wyatt could not tell, he only saw that she seemed to shrink further away from him in her seat as her hands came up to hold onto the seatbelts. Normally, she would hold onto him for comfort and reassurance during their trips, but that was over now too. Instead she gripped the secured belts, pressing them against her chest tightly enough that he wondered if she had cut off her own breath.

Wyatt barely noticed that he was shaken up and down and sideways during their journey. He focused on discerning what was going on with Lucy, but she shut her eyes to drown out the trip. Her eyes were always so expressive; she had a truly terrible poker face. Their historian wore every emotion plain on her face, usually, though since Castle Varlar she had managed to retreat somewhat into herself. Mostly, she had avoided looking either him or even Rufus in the eyes. Wyatt huffed. The need to know what had happened rose suddenly and powerfully in him, drowning out all other concerns. He had to know! He had to have answers before he left. Before he was sent away and replaced by his friend. Before he couldn't get them anymore. So when they landed, he took Rufus to the side and asked him to give him and Lucy a moment. The other man's eyes shone with understanding as he nodded. He, too, had noted Lucy's odd behavior.

"Thanks, man," Wyatt offered quietly as he watched him walk away to scout the area. Lucy was about to follow him when Wyatt grabbed her gently, but firmly, by the elbow and pulled her back next to the Life Boat. "We need to talk."

He watched as the last of her color drained from her face at his words. She hadn't properly looked at him in days, but now she seemed intent on counting the grains of sand on the dirt road that stretched out ahead of them. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, trying to get her attention. Lucy hiccuped, but her gaze rose to meet his. She began to extricate herself from his grip, and he let her. Thankfully, she didn't try to run right away, but she did put some distance between them. Just enough to be out of his arms reach.

"Lucy."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Lucy, what's going on? You… act almost like you're afraid of me. Like I'll hurt you."

"Of course you won't hurt me, Wyatt. I know that."

"Then what is it? Did I say something in Germany? Or do something?"

"Both," she murmured, then gasped when she realized she had spoken out loud. A hand raised itself to cover her mouth as she shook her head emphatically. Wyatt looked on, stunned. Well, he had wanted answers. Now that he was getting them, he was not so sure he wanted them anymore.

"What?" He pressed.

She shook her head.

"Lucy," he warned with a hint of fire in his voice. He was losing his patience. "I can't fix it if I don't know what I did."

"This can't be fixed," she told him with a humorless chuckle.

He felt like she had struck him. A physical blow to his gut… no, to his heart. He could feel it stutter as if someone was busy squeezing the life out of it. Wyatt felt sick to the stomach, adding to the already existing tension there. He felt like he was about to throw up, and it sure as hell wasn't because of their trip in the Life Boat. It couldn't be true. It had to be possible to fix it, whatever it was. Lucy was his comrade, his… friend. They had to be able to find common ground again. Especially because he was leaving. He couldn't leave things like this between them. He couldn't part knowing there was something unforgivable between them. And yet that was what he would have to do, it seemed. As he looked at her, he saw tears spring to her eyes and heard her choke out a sob. He still didn't know what he'd done, but whatever it was had apparently hit her hard enough to bring her to tears. And make her not want to talk about it. And make her reject even the notion of reconciliation.

"Then don't I deserve to know? What I did?"

"Wyatt, I didn't mean…" She sighed, and didn't finish the sentence. "I… can't tell you. I have my reasons."

"Reasons?" He snorted.

She looked up to glare at him.

"You don't want to know, Wyatt, trust me. And once you know, you can't un-know."

"You can't know that unless you tell me."

"Telling you would defeat the whole purpose, since you can't then forget it. I- ugh!" She huffed in frustration, expressing how he felt perfectly. "I'm doing this for you, Wyatt. I know it doesn't seem that way, but I… I know you wouldn't want to know."

"So, you're doing me a service? Great." Her expression told him his sarcasm was not appreciated.

Well, alright then. Wyatt's jaw set stubbornly. If he couldn't fix it, and she wouldn't even talk about it, then there was no point in giving it any further thought. It would only be a dangerous distraction to the mission. A mission that had taken them to one of the bloodiest battles in Texan history. He couldn't afford to be distracted by trivial drivel he couldn't even make out and that she refused to translate for him. If she had nothing to say, then they had nothing to discuss. It was his last mission anyway. No point trying to save their professional relationship, which was already beyond repair apparently, when he wasn't going to see her again after this was over.

"Wyatt," she started, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"Let's go find Rufus."

TimelessTimelessTimelessTimelessTimelessTimeless

It did not get easier after that. She saw that he struggled with something. Perhaps their situation as it worsened. Perhaps the knowledge of what was to come. Perhaps something in his past, and almost surely with their argument, but, try as she might, Lucy couldn't approach him. After she had refused to answer him, he had, understandably, begun to shut her out in turn. Now she didn't know how to heal the rift that she had caused with her careless actions. Before, every time he had glanced at her, spoken to her, her heart and body had reacted. She had been flooded with unfulfilled longing, to receive more of his attention. His affection. God, she loathed that part. She loathed being a slave to her body's fated reaction. Especially her despair at knowing that his heart would remain closed to her.

To protect herself, and to prevent herself from blurting out her secret in a giddy rush of hormones, she'd closed herself off from him. She had done it so successfully, it seemed, that now he thought she loathed him. That she couldn't get rid of him fast enough or permanently enough. Wyatt grew ever angrier as the mission progressed. When they realized they were trapped, Travis dead, his letter unwritten, and Lucy agonizing over how to write it in his place, all the tension came to an ugly head.

"It's just a letter," he told her tiredly.

"It's not just a letter. It's the letter that created Texas, no pressure or anything."

"For god's sake, you're getting lost in your own head. Just write something, anything - it doesn't have to be exact," he admonished her.

At this point, Rufus definitely retreated from the conversation. He could see the storm brewing between them and it not want to be in the middle of the fall out.

"Oh, I should say whatever I want like you did with Bowie?"

"Yes. You say what's in here," he replied, tapping against his chest. Lucy closed her eyes, painfully, not wanting to be reminded of the unknown words that were, possibly, quite literally seared over his heart. "And stop pretending. If you're even capable of that!"

He glared at her with malice she had not expected. Apparently, their argument had hit him worse than she'd thought.

"I'm not pretending anything, Wyatt, I-"

"No, you're just lying to me."

"I'm not lying-"

"A lie of omission is still a lie, and I want the truth. I think I deserve it!" He shouted at her.

"Well, I don't think you can handle it!" She shouted right back.

"You don't think I've handled worse than a little historian's hurt feelings?"

"Yes, let's talk about what else you've handled that has you spacing out at odd times, and snap at Bowie and scare his men. Because we wouldn't want to omit anything, would we?!" She challenged him. "And if it's such a little matter to you, then why bother at all!"

"Because you are my friend, Lucy! I care about you, and I care that you seem to hate me all of a sudden," he began with a shout, but ended almost in a sob. He couldn't take all this tension anymore. He'd tried to put it off his mind, but the combined pressure of his broken relationship with Lucy and his recurring flashbacks was proving to be too much. He took a deep breath. "Maybe Agent Christopher is right. Maybe I'm not the right guy for the job. I'm sorry."

He turned to leave, and Lucy was about to say something to stop him when the first crack of a cannon cut across the early morning. The whole building shook, dust trailing from the ceiling. Then he was gone before she could blink, and everything else happened in such quick succession, Lucy was sure she was going to mess up her report.

It was sheer coincidence that she heard Wyatt speak to Bowie. She was ripping up bedsheets to create make-shift bandages while he sharpened a pole to protect the fort. She doubted he even knew she was right behind him, or he would have stormed off in a huff. When Bowie came to talk to him, and the men discussed strategy, an then Wyatt admitted he was the lone survivor of a similar mission, Lucy almost stopped breathing. Her hands paused over the sheet, her grip tightened to the point of pain, and her teeth worried her lips as she tried to hold back a horrified gasp. It was no wonder Wyatt was so distracted. He was trapped in the same damn event that had ripped his friends from him before, and again there was nothing he could do to save good men.

All he could do was survive as he was supposed to, and once more leave people behind. Lucy took a steadying breath, because it wasn't completely like his last mission. This time, his friends would make it out of here too. At least, if Rufus managed to get to the aqueduct. The civilians, too. Not everyone would die. As she thought of this, Wyatt rose and turned, only to still when he finally spotted her. She wanted to speak, to say something that would comfort him or support him somehow, but she couldn't thin of anything to say at all after their last fight. So she just sat there and continued to rip sheets, as she tried to convey her realization with her steady gaze.

Wyatt opened his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it, and simply left. It wasn't long after that, that the attack began. Bowie had, as suggested, left the north wall undefended. As expected, Santa Ana's men made use of this supposed weakness and ran straight into their crossfire. Still, it was hopeless. Everyone of the defenders would die. Wyatt briefly closed his eyes at the thought, but he couldn't afford to be distracted. He just prayed that Rufus would find a way to get the women and children out, then rushed to get the boy out from underneath rubble. At the same time he heard an explosion occur nearby. He jerked his head around to where the sound had come from - the church. Wyatt blinked as he realized those had been his grenades, and grinned. He might not have been able to get Flynn with them, but Rufus seemed to have found a worthwhile use for them.

The soldier breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of the civilians, but especially Rufus and Lucy, getting out of this deathtrap. As he continued to fire, he felt a new lightness in his chest, knowing he was buying them the time to get the women and get to safety. They would live, and Rufus would get them home, and even though he'd never reconcile with Lucy, he would trust that his sacrifice would be enough to redeem himself in her eyes. He'd redeem himself to his friends as well, honoring and emulating their sacrifice. He'd join them soon. He looked forward to seeing them again. And Jessica, he briefly thought. His wife would be there too, and though he'd never discovered her murderer, Wyatt thought that maybe he would be able to look her in the eyes anyway.

"Wyatt!" Someone shouted his name over all the battle noise. He turned to see Lucy. She had somehow made her way across the battle field and through the bullets flying left and right to crouch at his side. Immediately, he grabbed onto her to pull her further behind the wagon and into himself for what little protection they offered.

"Lucy?" He asked in disbelief. What was she doing there? Was she insane? Was she trying to get herself killed? This was no place for a historian. He looked around at the madness, in which the shell-shocked boy next to him had regained his senses, but she commanded his attention as soon as she grabbed onto his hands to pull him away.

"There's a way out," she announced, hope lifting her voice. "Come on."

She made to run back out, still holding onto one of his hand, but he pulled her back when he heard another salve be shot off. If she was going to run, she had to time it right. He could help her with that, but he couldn't go with her, even though his heart lifted a little more at the thought that she had come to him through all this danger to see him to safety.

"We have to go… We need to go… Wyatt…"

He only vaguely heard her as he looked around, his decision settling itself deeper into his soul with every shot he heard and every man he watched fall before the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. He couldn't go. Not even for Lucy. He told her as much.

"I'm not going." His voice sounded calmer than even he had expected.

"No, what? What do you mean?"

"You don't need me," he told her. "They're getting rid of me anyway, right?"

Lucy wasn't having any of it.

"Wyatt, you can't stay here. Everybody dies-"

"No, I know," he interrupted her. She was wasting valuable time she needed to escape by arguing with him. He needed to make her understand, so she would leave to save at least herself. He may have decided to stay and fight and die, but she had to leave. She had to live. So he looked up into her concerned brown eyes when he spoke next. "I can't leave good men like this, not again."

She understood. She'd heard his story earlier, and she understood. He saw it in her eyes. Relief flooded his system. Now she would go, and she would be safe, but he needed to resume his part in the battle so she could get away, so he stood up to fire another round.

"No," he heard her reply quietly, and almost cursed out loud at her sheer bullheadedness. "No, Wyatt!"

"What difference does it make?" He asked her dejectedly. He had no one. His superiors wanted to get rid of him because he couldn't even do his damn job. His friends had paid the price for that when he'd abandoned them. Even Jessica had only been murdered because he'd been too much of an asshole to appreciate a good thing when he had it. A good woman. Neither of them had ever said the right words, but they'd been happy. So happy together, for a time. Before he had begun to lose his patience because she kept waiting for some dumbass magical words that might never come out of his mouth, and what did it matter?! They were good together, happy together, and wasn't that more important than any stupid fate? He'd been too harsh in his dismissal, too little understanding, and they'd started to drift apart. Syria had just made it worse, because it had made him even more closed off and irascible, and then the whole thing with her ex and… Wyatt shook himself out of his thoughts. He hadn't said Jessica's words. He hadn't any words to give, but he could give his life to a good cause and to worthy friends. And he would.

"Jessica, everybody I care about is gone," he finally told Lucy as he reloaded. Then he turned his gaze on her almost pleadingly, the edge of desperation in his voice softening with something else. Something he couldn't name. "Let me do one good thing. Let me buy you the time to get out."

"What about me… us?" She amended after a moment. "We're counting on you."

"The next guy is gonna handle it," he assured her. He almost didn't get to finish that sentence, so quick was Lucy to deny it.

"I don't want anybody else." Her hands rose to cradle his face as he looked on in stunned silence. "I trust you. You're the one that I trust. Rufus needs you, I need you."

The words hit him like a sledgehammer. Wyatt's stomach dropped, then flipped. Her hands seemed to burn his skin where they touched his face, or perhaps it was his skin that heated up as his blood warmed in his veins. His heart felt like it would burst any second. He shivered under her gaze, hot and cold and dizzy enough that he thought he might throw up.

"Okay?" She asked, and there was such a look in her eyes. Wyatt's heart soared, then plummeted when he realized what he was feeling. It couldn't be. She couldn't be. Yet, as she continued to look at him questioningly, desperately waiting for his positive response, he felt himself unable to refute her. Oh, part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to plant his feet in the earth and let his blood soak into the Alamo dirt in childish rebellion against this cruel twist of fate. But with his heart trying to jump right out of his chest and into her hands, and even the mediocre chance that perhaps she could feel something like that for him one day, Wyatt knew he couldn't do that to her. Couldn't leave her when she so clearly asked him to stay by her side. Couldn't hurt her like that. He gulped in a breath of air. He knew exactly how screwed he was with one more glance around. The scene was still just as horrifying, but it held no more appeal for him, because now he knew his place, and his place was at her side.

Where she would lead, he would follow.

"Get ready to run," he said simply, but he saw the relief wash over her face and settle into her heart. Felt his own calm down in response. Like there was already a bond. Wyatt's eyes widened, looking at Lucy searchingly. Did you know, he wanted to ask her. Is that why you avoided me? Was that what I had ‚done' to you? What did I say? A million questions in his gaze, and no time to ask or answer them. At least not there, but later when they where all safely at home, Wyatt would get his answers.

He stayed strangely calm throughout the rest. Even as he had to persuade another young soldier to abandon his unit. Even as he had to admit to Bowie and Crockett that he would not stay and fight and die for the cause, but the men understood. Everyone had to stick to the side of their own. Bowie even gave him his famous knife as a gift and for safekeeping.

"Can't leave it to these bastards, now can I?" He asked, then added with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "Besides, I know that you'll make good use of it in service to your lady."

Wyatt blushed a little. Bowie seemed to have realized more than expected, but the rumble at the door made him refocus. It was time for them to part ways. The colonel and the master sergeant exchanged one last glance, before Bowie nodded and Wyatt disappeared down the rabbit hole to an uncertain future.

The End

A/N: Yeah, still weird, even after rereading it. What do you think?