Chapter 3: The Hanging Tree

"Good thing Wyatt is here to help us out of this." Rufus whispered to Lucy as they were apprehended.

Careful not to look at him, and give his position away, Lucy ducked her head down as they passed him…muttering to Rufus under her breath to do the same. It would do no good for all three of them to wind up at the gallows. She knew Wyatt was upset, she had seen him fighting to get to her, but that was what terrified her the most. The men who were accused, had been so because they had come to the defense of their wives…even if her mother hadn't seen Wyatt, any resistance on his part for her sake, would be seen as corroboration and there were worse things they could do to him than just hanging. How many other men, in the history of these trials had suffered slow, torturous deaths because they had been angry over the accusation of the ones they loved?

Not that she was sure Wyatt loved her…but she didn't want to think about what could happen to him if he made a scene…and knowing Wyatt, as she did, she wasn't too sure what he might do in this situation.

As if trying to assure herself of the fact that he was still safe, she turned her head to look back towards the tavern as they reached the jailhouse door. Her eyes searched among the crowd that had gathered in the street, but she saw no sign of him. Disappointed and more than a little apprehensive, she allowed herself to be roughly shoved forward and led down a set of roughly hewn stairs, sensing, rather than seeing, Rufus following directly behind her.

The dank and musty smell of hay, urine, and soil assaulted their nostrils as the door swung open to a dark, low ceilinged prison underneath the home of the town constable. There were two holding cells on opposing sides of the room, each filled with mountains of straw on which the incarcerated could sit or lay in relative comfort as the packed dirt floor was not only terribly cold, but hard as stone. The dying rays of sunlight shone through the grated windows that lined the upper portion of the walls, but did nothing to cheer the inhabitants therein.

Lucy was led to the most crowded of these cells, joining her fellow disgraced sisters. A look of sad recognition appeared on Abiah Franklin's face as Lucy made her way through the barred door, held open by one particularly unattractive and scruffy Puritan. Rufus, by contrast, was dealt a more humiliating blow. Not even granted a cell to contemplate his situation in, instead, he was chained by the neck to the other doomed men and forced to sit on a mercilessly hard straight-backed bench in the middle of the room.

Sinking down to the floor next to the cell door, Lucy bit back the barrage of tears that were battling their way to the surface. It had been one thing to discover her mother was Rittenhouse, one thing for her mother to stand idly by while Lucy was bullied into shooting an innocent man, one thing to see her mother actually considering the cold-blooded murder of Marie Curie and her daughter…but even as she doubted when Wyatt asked her if she was sure that her mother wouldn't have allowed Emma to kill her, she never fully allowed herself to believe that her mother would ever choose Rittenhouse over her own daughter's life.

Now, however, she was forced to face the harsh reality that the mother she knew and loved was truly gone. Just moments before she was falsely accused of being a witch by the woman she had once idolized, she had deemed it impossible for Bathsheba Pope to be the one responsible for Abiah Franklin's condemnation for the pure and simple fact that they were family.

So much for blood being thicker than water.

Humiliated beyond belief for her misplaced faith in her mother, Lucy couldn't help but ponder on the conversation she and Wyatt shared in the LifeBoat before they arrived in Salem. She knew that Wyatt thought she was dangerously naïve in regards to Flynn, and perhaps she was. Obviously, she was no good judge of character…otherwise, she would have seen this coming, wouldn't she?

She felt utterly foolish to have been so blinded by her own mother's deception. Hadn't she discovered that the man she had always believed to be her father, wasn't? That her mother had not just lied to her in one timeline, but two? Why then, was she so shocked…especially after she found out who her father really was, that her mother had been Rittenhouse too?

It seemed so obvious now.

And yet, even after knowing that her mother had continually lied, after being kidnapped for heaven's sake, she insisted on believing that her mother was still there…somewhere…which was silly, considering that the woman Lucy knew and loved didn't even exist. Wyatt had told her there wasn't anything wrong with looking for the best in people, but now, she felt that there most certainly was something wrong with that.

As much as it hurt to admit, she knew that looking for the best in her mother had brought her nothing but pain and disappointment.

And Lucy was hurt.

Deeply.

The tears that she could no longer suppress came spilling out unbidden, making her feel weak among the women who were sitting stoically in the midst of all of this horror and humiliation; these other women, sitting so bravely in the face of death. What must they think of her?

Unlike them, she knew she wasn't going to die. Wyatt would come for her…there was not even a question in her mind about that, but these women…who would come for them? Those who had come to their defense, had either been imprisoned with them or subjected to torture until they died…or, relented and renounced their relations and friends as witches and heretics. How deep was their sorrow, to have an entire town of former friends and relatives turn on them because they were "different?"

No, Lucy had no right to feel sorry for herself when these women had been through so much more pain and mortification than she had…and yet, still managed to somehow find it in their hearts to offer her sympathetic smiles. As if to amplify her shame, Abiah Franklin approached her kindly, pressing a hand on Lucy's arm and with a look of compassion she softly whispered, "I'm sorry to meet you again in such circumstances."

Lucy offered her a watery smile for her kindness, "It's all just…so much more awful than I thought." she returned in a quavering voice as she wiped away her tears, inwardly berating herself for being so weak.

Abiah considered her for a moment and then offered her some words of comfort, "Those of us who have followed these proceedings closely…those of us who disagreed…we knew that being accused could be a possibility." She gave Lucy a small smile of understanding, "It does not make the accusation less painful."

"No." Lucy whispered as fresh tears fell from her eyes. "It doesn't."

Abiah motioned to the other women in the room as she continued, "Our own friends sat in judgement…people we knew and trusted, sat idly by while they took us away, dragging our good names through the mud. It is one thing to die, quite another to die in disgrace."

Feeling a sudden kinship with these women, women whom she had only read about, Lucy looked at them all, really for the first time, not as figures in history, but as people. These women who were falsely accused, condemned to die merely for not fitting in. Centuries may have separated them, but were they really thatdifferent?

Lucy had refused to conform to her mother's wishes, to Rittenhouse, and this was her punishment. Cast off, disgraced, humiliated…but at least she had hope. These women had no reason to believe that they were anything but condemned, yet they were the ones offering her words of comfort and in that moment, she knew what bravery was.

She was looking right at it.

The other women soon shared their stories and maintained their innocence and it was all Lucy could do to keep her composure. She was angry. Angry that such injustice could exist. She felt it doubly because of her mother's betrayal, but in a way, she was glad that it happened, because it gave her a determination to fight like nothing else had. As she looked around the jail cell, she no longer felt humiliated by her mother's accusation, she felt proud, proud to be in the company of these "outcasts and misfits" – these women who would not lie and admit to being something they weren't to save their lives. Abby had said that they were going to die disgraced…but Lucy disagreed.

The greater disgrace would have been to live because of a lie.

They did their best to keep their spirits high, but Lucy could tell as the afternoon wore on that the closeness of the execution hour was now weighing on their minds. Some were agitated, others despondent, but together they showed a solidarity and strength that Lucy found remarkable.

The last semblances of day were just visible outside, when the jailhouse door creaked open and Lucy's heart gave a bit of a leap. Half wondering if their time had come, half wondering if it was Wyatt coming to their rescue, she was completely shaken when the voice of her mother whispered to her through the cell door.

"Lucy? Are you okay?" she asked in concern.

Astounded that her mother had the gall to visit her after sending her to die, Lucy stared back at her, stony faced and immoveable. "How could you do this?" she asked in hoarse whisper.

Huffing out a breath in frustration, Carol Preston argued, "You gave me no choice!"

"It was you, wasn't it? Who accused Abby?" Lucy asked, hurt and disappointment written all over her face.

"Abby's sacrifice will be a necessary one in order to make a better future." Lucy let out a disbelieving laugh as her mother continued in a hushed and hurried tone, "I just needed to get you alone…away from your friends to convince you to stop this foolishness and come back home…for my sake."

Glaring at her, Lucy gritted out through angry tears, "You sent Rufus to die so that I would come home with you? Do you hear yourself?" Lucy scoffed as she continued, "You sent innocent people to die just so you could have a conversation with me?"

Her mother gave an exasperated sigh, "It's more than that, Lucy…you know our work is more important than…"

"Than what? People? Innocent lives?" Lucy spat back.

"I'm trying to make a better world." she snapped, before composing herself and adding more calmly, "Listen to me, there is a gentleman waiting outside this door who is ready to take your confession." Lucy recoiled as her mother pressed on, "It's nothing but signing a piece of paper, and then you are free to go."

"And Rufus?" Lucy asked. "What about him?"

"I'm not here for Rufus. I'm here for you." she responded in obvious irritation.

Appalled by her mother's actions and insulted by her request, Lucy stared back at her angrily and whispered dangerously, "I'd rather hang."

"You were always so stubborn." Carol Preston spat out. "Why are you doing this?" Lucy averted her eyes, "It's because of him, isn't it?"

The allusion to Wyatt caused Lucy's heart to sink. Her mother knew…how she knew she had no idea…but she wouldn't betray it…she wouldn't even say his name. Lucy shook her head at her mother angrily, "It's because of you…because of Rittenhouse, what it is, what it plans to do. You talk about our lineage like it's something to be proud of. I met David Rittenhouse and that is nothing to be proud of."

She shook her head sadly at Lucy, not paying any heed to what she had to say about their founder and ancestor, "He'll never care for you like I do…" Carol uttered in a harsh whisper, "he'll never care for you as much as he cared for Jessica."

The mention of Wyatt's wife caused Lucy's eyes to dart to her mother's, all of her insecurities rushing back full force, "How do you know about her?" she asked in breathless wonder, kicking herself the moment the question escaped her lips. Her mother had hit a nerve, and now she knew it. She stared at her mother, horrified by the thoroughness of her manipulation. She was using Wyatt, his dead wife, and her own doubts against her…but how did she know all of that? As Lucy considered it, realization dawned on her face as she shook her head and muttered, "The recordings…of course."

"You know as well as I do, that he will never be able to fully move on…" she urged, "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Lucy laughed at her incredulously as a single tear made its way down her cheek, "He could never hurt me as much as you have."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucy, " her mother breathed out, "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't want your help." Lucy snapped back. Chuckling dryly, Lucy looked her mother straight in the eye and in a quavering voice whispered, "You know, I used to want nothing more than to please you…to make you proud. Now…I'm just disappointed."

Gripping Lucy's hand angrily through the bars as she gritted out, "If you would just listen, you would spare yourself so much pain." Her expression softened slightly as she pressed a small knife into Lucy's palm and in a voice of desperation she whispered, "Use this, get yourself out of here and come home." At Lucy's scoff, Carol continued on in warning, "This is your last chance, Lucy. I am the only one who can save you…listen to me, before it's too late."

Jerking her hand away, Lucy stared after her mother as she turned to leave, pausing only to inform Lucy that she would be awaiting her at the Mothership. Tucking the knife in the sleeve of her dress, Lucy sank back down on the hard, cold floor as a heat of indignation rose within her chest. Her mother had done all of this, just so Lucy would…what? See how wrong she was for turning her back on her mother and Rittenhouse? She wasn't a child anymore. Her mother may have been able to sway her decisions easily in the past, but now that she knew who her mother really was…she would no longer be fooled by her manipulations, no matter how awful they were.

And this? This was pretty awful.

By accusing Lucy of witchcraft, sending her to this colonial hellhole of a prison, she was essentially giving Lucy a choice. Rittenhouse or death. Lucy's eyes wandered past the bars of her cell and landed on Rufus' hunched over form. By capturing their pilot, sending him to hang, Carol Preston had ensured that Lucy would have no other means out of this century except by the Mothership…so yes, Carol Preston had Lucy over a barrel.

At least she thought she did.

As far as Lucy knew, Wyatt was still out there. He would come for her and Rufus. Yet even as she told herself that, an unwelcome fear stabbed at her heart. She thought, by now, he would have come…that he would have found some way to get them out, yet here it was almost evening, hours after they had been taken, and he was still unnervingly absent. Where could he be? Desperately trying to quell her fears, she reasoned there could be any number of things keeping Wyatt from breaking them out of their prison. They were in a basement, for one, that was heavily guarded. Armed or not, Wyatt was one man against an entire town on a day where everyone's attention was on the jailhouse. Still, she thought that perhaps he might at least get a message to her.

I am the only one who can save you.

Her mother's parting words seemed to mock her in her mounting distress.

No.

Wyatt was fine. This was just part of her mother's manipulation…to make her doubt that he would come. He had saved her in 1918…had essentially come back from the dead to bring her home, he would do the same here. Yet, as the light grew dimmer and the dreaded sound of heavy footsteps and a horse cart sounded outside, Lucy rested her head in her shaking hands and wondered what on Earth had become of Wyatt.

Once Lucy and Rufus disappeared into the jail cell, Wyatt kept a keen eye out for Carol Preston and anyone who might be working for her. Her appearance in the tavern, while completely unexpected, was not wholly unusual, now that he had time to think it over. It was Carol, after all, who had kidnapped Lucy in the first place, three months ago. It was Carol who had conditioned Lucy since birth for…whatever the hell they wanted her to do for Rittenhouse. And it was Carol who stood to lose the most, by letting Lucy, her one and only heir, slip through her fingers.

He wasn't sure how accusing Lucy of witchcraft fit in with her plans, but Wyatt wasn't going to take anything at face value. Carol Preston was up to something and Wyatt wanted to know what it was.

One thing was obvious, Carol Preston was searching for him. Moments after they took Lucy and Rufus away, he watched her through the window of the tavern desperately seeking out face after face of every man and woman she encountered. He saw with grim satisfaction, the tense lines on her face deepen as time after time she came up disappointed. He had suspectedthat after 1918, Carol Preston considered him a threat to her influence over Lucy, but after observing her flitting about Salem, looking more and more uneasy as time passed, he knew she considered him one.

And it didn't bother him one damn bit.

From where he stood, Carol Preston had hurt Lucy more than even Garcia Flynn had. Both had kidnapped her, both had put her into life threatening situations for their own purposes, but Flynn had always been an asshole. Carol, by contrast, had been the woman Lucy never quite thought she could measure up to, the woman Lucy idolized and loved. Wyatt's mind flitted back to the first moment they met when Lucy, brilliant Lucy, had declared herself "just a teacher" while claiming that it was actually her mother who was "world class."

Her mother was "world class" alright…

For Lucy to discover that she had essentially been groomed her entire life to take her place among these elitist dicks had to have been the shock of a lifetime, and he hadn't even been there to help her through it.

How could he, when Rittenhouse had tried to blow him and all of Mason to hell?

Carol Preston had sidelined them so she could kidnap Lucy in order to bend and break her to Rittenhouse's will. A wave of fury washed over Wyatt as he recalled what Lucy had told him in the munitions tent 1918; she had believed them dead, had lost all hope, and therefore, had no plans to return to the present…in fact, the grenade she held in her trembling hand was to be the end of her and, she had hoped, the end of Rittenhouse.

Carol Preston had driven Lucy to the ultimate desperation and Wyatt would never…could never forgive her for that.

Now, watching her make her way through the town, asking questions, looking desperate, he couldn't help but smirk. Whatever her plans, it was clear that without Wyatt under lock and key somewhere, she was nervous. As much as Wyatt desperately wanted to get Lucy the hell out of prison, he knew that at least while there, she and Rufus were safe. The crowds in Salem were thick and full of curious visitors who had come to witness the mass hanging, Wyatt, therefore was able to blend in as just another onlooker in the small New England town. Still, even with the added bonus of more people, someone was looking for him…and he was absolutely certain she wasn't alone.

To think that Carol Preston would travel to 1692 without some sort of protection was laughable and as Emma was Rittenhouse's only pilot (as far as they knew, anyway) he was sure certain the red-headed menace was here…but as she had not yet shown her face, it made him nervous. Emma, however, was not the only possible hidden threat. He was absolutely sure that there were Rittenhouse agents among the crowd, watching for him, just as Carol was, and so his best plan was to keep himself off their radar for as long as possible until he could somehow get to Lucy.

That, unfortunately, meant that he was not going to be able to go anywhere near the jail house.

Instead, Wyatt kept his distance, watching and waiting. At some point, he knew, the accused would be led out of their cells and marched out of town to be hung. Though he didn't like the idea of a last-minute rescue any more than he liked the idea of Lucy and Rufus sitting in a damn pre-American prison, he really didn't have much of a choice. As the evening sun began to dip in the sky, however, he reconsidered that plan as he saw, with mounting dread, Carol Preston march her way down the street, offer something to the prison guard, and descend down the stairs unbarred.

What the hell was she doing?

Wyatt didn't care so much about being hidden anymore. He had no idea what the layout of that prison was. If Carol Preston had bought Lucy's freedom and took off with her again, he would never forgive himself. Throwing caution to the wind, he slipped out from his hiding place in a barn near the tavern, and made his way carefully down the street towards the jailhouse. The main street wasn't as crowded as it had been earlier, but he knew that would change once it got nearer the time for the executions. He had planned to be blend in among the townspeople and slip off with both Lucy and Rufus while the rest of Salem's Lot were focused on the hangings. With this new development, however, Wyatt was anxious. He didn't trust Carol. It was one thing to send your daughter to the gallows, quite another to watch…and he while he believed she was pretty damn depraved he didn't think she was that depraved.

So why the hell was she still here?

He thought through every possible scenario, every imaginable explanation and the only thing that made any kind of twisted sense was that the accusation and imprisonment was a ruse. She had planned to entrap all three of them…that much was clear from the way she was buzzing about the town. If he and Rufus were not in a position to help her, Lucy would have no choice but to die or go home with her mother.

Wyatt imagined that she was desperate now, having not found him and knowing that Lucy would know that with Wyatt free, she still had some kind of hope. He didn't want to think about what the hell Carol Preston might say to her in order to convince her to come back with her, but given that he knew Lucy was already having doubts about his feelings for her, he panicked.

He hoped that if Rittenhouse was still out among the few scattered people remaining on the street, he would go unnoticed by them…just another Puritan in town for the hanging. As he neared the jailhouse, he breathed out a sigh of relief…happy that he had escaped notice.

Or so he thought.

No sooner had he reached the furthest corner of the prison than he felt the smooth barrel of a gun being pointed at his ribs while an arm wrapped itself around his. "Been looking for you, Master Sergeant." Emma's voice came sing songing in his ear."

"Shit." Wyatt cursed as he attempted to pull away from her and reach his own gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Emma warned silkily. "I'd hate for you to miss Lucy's hanging."

Wyatt's father had been a world class sonofabitch. A drunk with a temper, he had seen his father beat the shit out of countless people…men, women…hell, he had even taken out his frustration on Wyatt when he was just a boy. Growing up with that, Wyatt had vowed to never be like his old man…instead, he looked to his Grandpa Sherwin as a role model for what he should be and how he should live his life. His Grandpa had been a loving husband, father, and military hero. He taught Wyatt the importance of loyalty, trust and responsibility. He had also told Wyatt that there was nothing worse than a man who would use a woman as a punching bag. In the case of Emma Whitmore, however, Wyatt thought that maybe his Grandpa would make an exception.

She wasn't your everyday, average woman.

Deadly as she was fierce, Emma Whitmore was not only Rittenhouse's one and only pilot, she was their most lethal assassin. Trained in hand to hand combat, marksmanship, and Lord knows what else, Emma had taken out an entire team of Federal agents and stolen the Mothership single-handedly.

Wyatt would have never believed it possible if he hadn't seen the footage. She had been Rufus' friend and co-worker at Mason; both of them having gone through the Pilot training program together. Then one day, a mission "went wrong" and Emma hadn't come back. Little did they know she was actually a sleeper for Rittenhouse, one of the first ones they had planted in the past. For someone who had spent 10 years of her life, living in solitude in 19thcentury Missouri, was it any wonder that she hated the fact that Lucy held more clout for being born into Rittenhouse, than she did?

Eaten up with jealousy, she had terrorized Lucy in those six weeks that she spent as a prisoner. Carol Preston may have been the one who wanted Lucy to prove her loyalty, but according to Lucy, it was Emma who had driven her to actually pull the trigger and kill that soldier in 1918. After failing to kill Lucy in Darlington in 1955, Emma now looked absolutely giddy that Lucy would soon be executed in 1692.

And it made Wyatt sick.

Of course, if he had anything to do with it, Lucy would be just fine…but his plans had sort of taken a nosedive now that Emma had a gun pointed in his ribs.

"What's wrong soldier?" Emma said with a pout. "Afraid you're going to lose another woman in your life to strangulation?"

Wyatt seethed, but didn't respond. He knew she was just trying to get a rise out of him, make him act out emotionally, and not only did he not want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had gotten under his skin, exposed a nerve, he knew that if he wanted to help Lucy, that he needed to keep a cool head. "What's in this for you, anyway Emma?" Wyatt retorted. "It's not like if Lucy dies you'd ever be able to take her place with those elitist assholes…you're just a grunt…a hired thug."

Emma bit her lip and smiled, realizing that Wyatt wasn't going to be so easily rattled. She nudged the gun harder into his ribs in retaliation and commanded, "Hand it, over tough guy."

With a resigned sigh, Wyatt reluctantly reached into his coat and slowly pulled out his gun wishing he could wipe the smug look off of Emma's face. She was just relishing in the fact that soon he would no longer be a thorn in their side, when Carol emerged from the prison looking agitated and angry. She was soon joined by two Rittenhouse thugs, who pointed her towards a waiting Emma. "Say your goodbyes? I hope you gave her my best." Emma quipped as Carol Preston's eyes darted to her in shock and surprise.

"Why aren't you with the Mothership?" she asked roughly. "I told you this was my mission."

Emma shrugged, "I got tired of waiting…besides, it looks like you forgot someone." She muttered as she pressed a rough hand on Wyatt's shoulder.

Carol looked at Wyatt with a mixture of relief and frustration, "Not at all…tell me," she motioned to one her hired hands, "how soon before I entered the jail house did our Mr. Logan appear?"

"Almost immediately, ma'am…you were right, that did draw him out."

Dammit. Wyatt thought with an inward grimace. He should have known, it had been a damn trap.

"So, predictable." Carol quipped as she offered him a haughty smile. Wyatt noted that while Carol Preston shared a lot of things with Lucy, she had none of her humility. Carol turned a satisfied smirk towards Emma, "As I said, we had everything handled."

Emma, ever proud and scornful, sneered back, "And Lucy?"

"Lucy…" Carol sighed, "is thinking over her legacy." She raised her eyebrows as Wyatt rolled his eyes, "I feel confident in the end, she will make the right decision and come home…where she belongs." she emphasized those last few words and looked directly at Wyatt who met her gaze determinedly. "Now," she turned to Emma once more, "You and I will wait at the Mothership…"

"You're seriously going to leave him to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over here?" Emma shot back, annoyed, as she pointed towards Wyatt.

Carol looked back at him, "I don't see why not." She nodded as the two Rittenhouse operatives, both large men, flanked Wyatt on either side. "Once you take care of the Master Sergeant, bring my daughter to the Mothership…" she paused, "when she realizes that I was right, she should come along with little argument."

"You really don't know a damn thing about Lucy, do you?" Wyatt spat out.

"I know her much better than you do, Mr. Logan…Carol remarked with a sad smile, "Lucy may be stubborn, but she's mydaughter. Rittenhouse is in her blood…it's part of who she is…and soon she'll realize that it will be the only thing she can truly count on."

With one final sneer and a meaningful look, Carol turned on her heel and headed down the road. Emma followed closely behind, but not before she smirked viciously at Wyatt and quipped, "Have fun, boys."

Wyatt stared after them as they made their way out of town. There were so many damn things Wyatt wanted to say to both of them, but at that very moment, he was being led off to the woods by the two Rittenhouse dicks Carol and Emma had left behind.

He was kicking himself for getting into this mess. Lucy and Rufus were depending on him and after all that time, being so damn careful, he let his emotions take over and it put them all in danger...not that he was particularly concerned about the two jokers who had been left to "deal with him." Not knowing what was happening at the jail cell, however, had him anxious as hell. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon and Wyatt knew it was just a matter of time before Lucy, Rufus, and the rest of the people accused today, would be led away from the prison and taken off to be hung.

He had no idea what Carol Preston might have said to Lucy, but he didn't believe for one second that she would ever willingly surrender herself over to Rittenhouse. She may have her backed into a damn corner, but the Lucy he knew was a fighter, not the push over her mother wished her to be. Hell, even when she thought he was dead, Lucy was ready to give up her own life to take down her mother and the twisted organization that she had claimed was her legacy…

But that wasn't what was worrying him.

Carol had said that Lucy would come back to her once realized her mother was right. Right about what? His mind raced as he thought over Emma and Carol's conversation. She had claimed that his actions to go after Lucy had been "predictable" and why wouldn't they be? He had declared himself the one to protect Lucy when her mother had so coldly rejected the idea after learning of her daughter's subterfuge in 1918. If Carol didn't know that Wyatt had a weak spot for Lucy Preston, Emma certainly did. She had seen them together numerous times and Wyatt was sure she had reported all she knew…or thought she knew to Lucy's mother.

It was then that Wyatt realized, Carol didn't just want him out of the way, she wanted Lucy to think he didn't care…and what better way to show he was indifferent to her, that she couldn't depend on him, if he wasn't there when she needed him most? He hadn't been at the jail cell, hell, he hadn't even run to her aid in that tavern…and if he didn't get to her in time…

He looked behind him as heard the slow rumble of a horse cart. A large mob had gathered outside the jail, which Wyatt knew, with a stab of panic, meant that time was running short.

They were still well within the boundaries of the town, though…and with so many people in the streets, it would be extremely difficult for him to break away without causing some sort of a scene. He wasn't worried about taking out the two dicks beside him, but he was pretty damn sure these straight-laced Puritans, who were so quick to string up innocent women, would have a field day with the him if he so much as shot one of these assholes in the arm.

It felt like a damned eternity, but the moment they stepped clear of the town, Wyatt gave them no opportunity to get the best of him. Kicking out hard at the man on his right, Wyatt landed him on his ass, before turning his attention to the man on his left who had already drawn his weapon. Gripping the man's wrist and turning into his body, Wyatt slammed his elbow into his stomach until he loosened his hold on the gun which Wyatt then easily claimed. Thus armed, Wyatt took cover behind a nearby tree as bullets whizzed by his head. Clearly, the first jackass he had taken out had found his weapon and was determined to do the job he was getting paid for. Desperate to get the hell out of there as fast as he could, Wyatt peered around the tree and took in their positions. Both men were coming up upon him at different angles, but, Wyatt thought, he might be able to take care of them both if he was fast enough.

He just wished it wasn't so damned risky.

Taking a deep breath, he made a quick dive from behind his source of cover, firing his weapon as he did so. One shot hit its mark, the other…not so much. On Rittenhouse agent lay dead, the other let out a guttural groan as he gripped his knee in pain, desperately clawing at the leaves to reach the gun he had dropped when he had been hit. Kicking it further out of his reach, Wyatt delivered a swift blow to his face, knocking the man out cold before grabbing te other gun and running like hell back to the jail house.

As the accused were led out of the cellar prison, they were met with jeers from the awaiting crowd. Rufus elbowed his way over to Lucy as the prisoners were lined up to have their hands bound. "Lucy…"Rufus whispered harshly, "where the hell is Wyatt? I get the whole dramatic rescue thing, but this Hail Mary stuff? It's crap…this isn't the Super Bowl."

Lucy wanted to agree with Rufus, but she found she couldn't answer. Her eyes darted to every face in the crowd, searching for Wyatt, not understanding why he hadn't come for them yet. She knew he wouldn't leave her, knew he would do everything in his power to save them, but after her mother's visit, after her mother's smug confidence that Wyatt wouldn't come, she began to be overtaken by panic at the thought that something terrible had happened to him.

Leaning towards Rufus, she muttered in his ear, "I have a knife in my sleeve, just in case…but you're going to have to walk me through this…" she swallowed as she attempted to steady her voice, "I don't think I can do this without you."

Rufus nodded at her, "I can do that…but seriously…where the hell is Wyatt?" They were being shoved forward now, forced to march forward surrounded by angry townspeople. "Oh, look…" Rufus exclaimed, "torches and pitchforks, how original."

"I think this was the original, Rufus." Lucy murmured as they made their way through the town. Allowing her wrist to drop, Lucy caught the knife as it fell into her bound hand. With her brow furrowed in concentration, she bent her fingers forward, willing herself to work through the pain and cut through the ropes that bound her hands. She could feel the fibers biting into her skin, inflaming it, but she had no time to spare on that discomfort. She knew that if something that had happened to Wyatt, she was the only chance they had at getting out of this alive. She gasped in pain as she worked at the ropes. "Rufus," she asked, "is it making any difference?"

"You're through the first layer Lucy, but you've got three more to go." Rufus said apologetically. "Maybe once you get through the second loop, you'll be able to get your hands free?"

Nodding as tears of pain sprung to her eyes, she continued twisting her stinging wrists in the rope in an attempt to saw through the remaining bonds. They were on the outskirts of the town now and Lucy was once again hit with the overwhelming sense of dread that something terrible had happened to Wyatt. Her eyes searched for him among the jeering townsfolk that lined the street, among the people following the wagon cart, but he was nowhere to be seen.

So focused she was on Wyatt and breaking free of her bonds, that she didn't realize where they were until the entire procession had come to an unnerving halt. There, looming over them, was the hangman's noose, swinging ominously in the slight wind that blew through the forest of mostly naked trees. Terrified by the sight of something so awful, Lucy's hands shook despite her attempts to keep them steady and as a result, the knife she had been holding, the knife that was their only chance at salvation without Wyatt, fell from her trembling fingers and onto the leaf strewn path. Lucy's heart sank as she realized what had happened and with a gasp she whispered through her tears, "Rufus…I dropped it. I'm…I'm so sorry."

She was hardly paying attention to the rousing voice of John Hathorn as he read off the reasons they had been brought to the tree to be hung. Cheers from the crowd followed his statement and before she knew it, a rough hand was around her arm, leading her to the gallows. She could hear Rufus' shouts of panic from behind her, but she did not dare turn to look at the crowd. If this was how she was going to die, she was going to die in dignity. She closed her eyes as the thick noose was placed around her neck by calloused and rough hands. She could smell the acrid breath of the executioner as he yanked her hair out from beneath the rope, and tightened it around her neck. She swallowed hard as she awaited the command that would end her life and just hoped it would be quick.

But the command never came.

With a gasp, Lucy's eyes shot open and she turned her head as she heard Wyatt shouting her name. He was racing towards her, his gun drawn, looking absolutely murderous.

'Get the hell away from her!" he gritted out as he reached the edge of the rocky ledge she was standing on. With one quick look towards John Hathorn, however, the executioner made a lunge at Lucy in an attempt to shove her off her perch. Sensing what he was doing, Lucy dug her heels into the rock face in an attempt to keep herself from hurtling forward but Wyatt, pissed as hell that Lucy had been touched in the first place, took careful aim and fired his weapon.

Wyatt saw it all as if in slow motion. Instead of falling backwards, the man fell forwards into Lucy knocking her off her balance and causing her to pitch forward off the rock. In a desperate lunge, Wyatt grasped at her dress, pulling her back as her feet desperately sought to find purchase on the rock face once more. Clinging to her and attempting to pull her back to safety, Wyatt tried to make a grab for the noose, but physics and time was working against him. With a whole mob of angry townspeople behind them, Wyatt wasn't going to risk them over running them, not when Lucy's neck was literally on the line. He yanked at her bonds, loosening them, before aiming his gun once more at the taut rope line hanging from the branch. The shot that pierced it indeed split the cord, though not completely. "Lucy!" Wyatt yelled out, 'I'm gonna let you go, brace yourself for a fall!"

"What?" Lucy gasped out, but Wyatt had already turned to fight off the few men that had been brave enough to approach him. Swinging forward, Lucy felt the rope tighten around her neck momentarily before she crashed to the ground with a terrifying drop. Now able to freely move her wrists, Lucy slipped out of the ropes that had her hands bound and raced back to help Rufus.

The scene was complete pandemonium.

Wyatt, now holding a torch he had wrested from one of the villagers, had used it to set fire to the horse cart and sent it careening through the mob, causing people to run and panic. Rufus, seeing Lucy, called out for her as she quickly made her way towards him. Within a few moments, she almost had his hands untied when they were beset upon by a burly man wielding the very knife she had dropped.

He had raised his arm to strike, but before he could deliver the blow, Wyatt was there, throwing his arm out to block it. Letting out a grunt as the blade gashed his arm, Wyatt turned and dealt a devastating blow to the man's throat, knocking him out cold. "Are you okay?" he asked between heavy breaths as he crouched down next to Lucy and Rufus.

"Wyatt…" Lucy cried out, "your arm." The gash was long and deep and Wyatt was bleeding heavily.

"It's fine," he muttered as he untied Rufus' bonds. "We need to get the hell out of here."

"Not before we get them to safety." Lucy nodded towards the group of her fellow prisoners as she ripped off a strip of her dress with shaking hands.

"Lucy…" Wyatt argued as he lifted a bloody hand towards the town, "I can guarantee you those assholes will be back…and this time, they'll be bringing muskets."

Lucy, however, stood her ground. "Wyatt…I'm not leaving them to die."

"Are they supposed to be saved?" Wyatt asked in irritation. "I may not know Salem like Flynn does, but I'm pretty damn sure none of those people are supposed to survive."

"Abby is." Lucy argued as she tied the strip of her dress around Wyatt's gash, noting with horror that it immediately was soaked with blood. Ripping off more of her dress, Lucy kept tying strips as she maintained, "We have to save Abby, or Benjamin Franklin will never be born….and you can't possibly expect me to leave the others behind to die." She looked at Wyatt directly in the eye and saw his resistance fading away. She knew he was only concerned for their safety, but she also knew that he wasn't one to leave innocent people to die. When Wyatt let out a resigned sigh, she turned to Rufus quickly and asked, "Can you untie them?"

"I like this Lucy." Rufus quipped as he looked at Wyatt, "She may be a Sarah Connor, invite Flynn into the bunker, doesn't give two shits about history, Lucy…but I dig her."

As Rufus picked up the discarded knife and made his way over to the other victims, Wyatt smirked at Lucy as she continued to wrap his arm, "He's got a point, you know? You aren't the same Lucy Preston who argued with me over Von Braun and the Hindenburg."

"Is that a problem?" she asked as she tied another strip.

"No…" Wyatt muttered, "but then again, I'm not the one who's supposed to care about saving history."

Lucy sighed, "I can't sit back and watch innocent people die anymore."

Wyatt nodded thoughtfully, before reaching out and rubbing her arm supportively, "Then let's go get them the hell out of here." He murmured as he helped her up.

Rufus had just finished cutting the last of the bonds when Lucy and Wyatt approached, all of the accused breathing out their thanks and hugging them as they stood up to go. Lucy pulled Abby to the side and instructed, "Get them to Boston…you all will be safe there."

With a final nod of thanks, Lucy watched as the men and women whom she had been imprisoned made their way out of Salem and to safety. All of them but one was supposed to die. She vaguely wondered what such a change would do to the timeline, but she found that she didn't care. It had been her mother who had urged her to study history, to concern herself over every excruciating detail about people and events long since passed, and yet, this same woman who had essentially built the History Department at Stanford, was the same woman who had just tried to erase Benjamin Franklin from history.

"To hell with my mother," Lucy muttered under her breath.

"Well, I didn't want to say anything before, Lucy" Rufus quipped as he brushed past her, "but I'm gonna have to agree with that statement."

"That makes three of us." Wyatt agreed as he urged them to hurry. They could already hear the shouts of the townspeople through the trees and as Wyatt admitted, he only had "two damn bullets left" and he was "pretty sure that wasn't going to be enough to take care of a bunch of pissed off Puritans."

Hardly daring to stop for even a moment to rest, they made their way back down the lane to the LifeBoat. Once safely inside, the finally felt like they could breathe.

"Damn, Wyatt" Rufus breathed out, "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but you are the king of close calls. Where the hell were you?"

Grimacing as he threaded his arms through the harness, he gritted out, "I'd love to talk about this, Rufus…but first, I'd like to get the hell out of this century." Groaning once more as he attempted to buckle his harness, Lucy leaned forward with a soft smile and began working at his harness. Wyatt's hands stilled as he watched her nimbly working her blood-stained fingers along the straps. "Isn't that my job?" Wyatt murmured with half a smirk.

Lucy gave him a wan smile, her eyes brimming with tears from the awfulness of her day. She didn't respond until she sat back and secured her own harness, whispering in a quavering voice, "Well, seeing as I wouldn't be here without you, it's the least I could do."

Wyatt looked back at her, suddenly realizing for the first time just how close he had come to losing her. He reached out with his uninjured arm and gripped her hand, squeezing it as silent tears began to fall from Lucy's eyes. "Let's get the hell out of here, Rufus." Wyatt muttered mechanically.

"You don't have to tell me twice." Rufus quipped as he punched in the final coordinates, "I know I've hated a lot of our missions…but I really hate this one."

Lucy sniffed as she offered him a small smile, "Me too."

Notes:

I hadn't intended on this chapter being SO long...but dangit those action sequences require so much build up...and then there's all the feels in this one too. Yes, I've continued to change things...and you should probably get comfortable with that, because things will start veering off from the other timeline quite a bit here in the next few chapters.

I hope that you've enjoyed this update. Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate the encouragement so much.