Chapter 3

A/N #1: I planned on this third chapter being the final one, but as one might expect, poor Lucy is kind of a hot mess right now and had a lot on her mind to work through in Wyatt's absence-plus, as usual, I got a little carried away writing all this angst :p The next chapter should be (fingers crossed) the epilogue that wraps everything up...

"Courage is not having the strength to go on...it is going on when you do not have the strength." - Napoleon Bonaparte

Previously...

Her wifely intuition–already on high alert the past week-started going off like an alarm when the two women exchanged somber glances and stepped into the front entryway, although they both smiled when Ethan held out his arms to Michelle and squealed, "Mee, Mee." An icy wave of apprehension swept over her, and for a sickening moment, Lucy thought there was a distinct possibility she might pass out. Wyatt...oh, God, no, something's happened to Wyatt. With shaking hands, she abruptly thrust her grinning, squirming son into Michelle's arms, who murmured she was going to check on the girls.

Once the older woman had carried the toddler out of hearing, she immediately turned to face her friend. Lucy's churning gut told her this was no casual visit–that it was SAC Christopher herself who stood in front of her–which meant she was almost certainly here in some kind of official capacity. "Tell me, please, I need to know," she demanded breathlessly, steeling herself against the powerful surge of fear and dread trying its best to overwhelm her.

Before Denise could answer, though, the room began to waver and blur in front of Lucy's eyes as her heart raced wildly. Blinking rapidly against the little black dots hovering around the edges of her vision, she sucked in a harsh breath, dimly aware of the other woman's firm but comforting grip under her elbow as she quickly guided Lucy towards the living room and away from the dining room where Michelle and the children were.

Dropping heavily onto the sofa, she instantly put her head between her knees until the intense wave of dizziness gradually passed. "Easy now, nice slow breaths, in and out, you got this, Lucy," Denise encouraged calmly from beside her, rubbing her back soothingly. Several long moments later, after the room finally stopped spinning, she cautiously lifted her head. Drawing a shuddering breath, Lucy squared her shoulders and forced herself to face the other woman. "I'm okay for now, thanks," she whispered hoarsely, looking into Denise's sympathetic dark eyes. "Please tell me everything you know."

Taking Lucy's trembling hand in hers, her friend quietly acquiesced, although as one might expect when dealing with the military, there was next to nothing in the way of useful information to be shared. The intel coming out of Syria thus far was extremely patchy-and regrettably, initially less than reassuring. Wyatt and his men had disappeared during the covert mission three days earlier. While there was serious speculation the six-man team had been involved in an ambush of some kind, there was no official confirmation of that yet.

"While I'm sure it wouldn't come as a big surprise to a seasoned vet like your husband, it's a poorly-kept secret that the Army tends to take an extremely cautious approach when dealing with sensitive circumstances like this," the older woman noted tartly with a disapproving frown.

Once attempts to locate or contact the team had been unsuccessful for a period of at least 72 hours, as Wyatt's immediate superior, Denise had been contacted directly by the Pentagon. All of the soldiers were presumed to be alive, and until Wyatt and his team were found, she would be updated regularly-one teeny, tiny bright spot, Lucy thought vaguely through her rising panic.

Correctly interpreting her anxious expression, Denise squeezed Lucy's hand and assured her the Army was doing everything possible to try and locate the men, including sending out search teams and drones daily. The problem was the vast amount of unexplored, exceedingly rugged terrain that must be meticulously combed, especially urgent if any of the men had been injured. All they could do now stateside was wait and pray.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy, I truly am," She murmured earnestly, watching her closely, "Michelle and I both are. And I understand more than most how frightened you must be. But knowing Wyatt Logan as well as I do, I also have the utmost confidence in his skills and of course, his fierce determination to come home safely to you and the kids. You just have to stay strong, not only for the little ones, but yourself, too. And always remember we are here for you, whatever you need."

Her supportive words, along with the happy, excited sounds of Ethan and the girls drifting into the room, made Lucy's eyes fill with tears. Since leaving the bunker in 2018, the retired time travelers had built a wonderful, fulfilling life together. Please, God, please, her heart begged pitifully. Wyatt had to be alright--he just had to be-because exactly like that devastating moment in 1950 Korea when she thought he'd been taken from her forever, it was impossible for Lucy to imagine any kind of future without her husband, the father of her children, in it. And yet, somehow even more terrifying in her mind? How in God's name would she tell their son and daughters that Daddy wasn't ever coming home if it came to that?

It was the brutal realization of just how much her children needed their mother that helped center Lucy and slightly ease the growing terror threatening to paralyze her. She took a couple of cleansing breaths. Until their father returned (and make no mistake, Wyatt would come home, she believed it in her very soul), little Flynn, Amy and Ethan were unknowingly depending on their mother to have courage, to never give up hope-and for them, she would do her very best, because their welfare was the most important thing to Lucy. After all, what were her husband's last words to her before he left a week ago? "Take care of our babies." Wyatt implicitly trusted her to do exactly that, and no way in hell was she going to let him (or them) down.

Swiping absently at the tears slipping down her face, Lucy whispered, "Thank you, Denise. I appreciate more than I can say that you came over to tell me this awful news yourself, instead of letting a couple of strangers show up at my front door unannounced." Now her usually stoic friend was the one discreetly wiping away a tear with a brisk nod. They sat together in pensive silence for a few minutes until Flynn happily skipped into the room.

"Hey, Mommy, me and Sissy got the table all set and Mimi says the sketti is ready to eat if you and DeeDee are all done talking," the six-year-old informed them brightly. Stiffly getting to her feet, Lucy pulled her young daughter close and kissed the top of Flynn's head, murmuring her thanks. It was a real comfort to Lucy when, after delivering such upsetting news, the two women kindly agreed to stay for spaghetti and meatballs, a particular favorite in the Logan house.

During dinner, a welcoming numbness began to gradually settle over Lucy. Even in the depths of her misery, she was pathetically grateful for the presence of the Christophers, thoroughly relieved at having someone (besides a preoccupied Mommy) patiently listen to little Ethan babble cheerfully and the girls' carefree chatter as they enthusiastically cleaned their plates and asked for more.

Helpless to keep from withdrawing into herself in an valiant effort to deal with her fear and pain, she sat and brooded silently, barely able to make even the slightest pretense of eating her dinner. Finally, the endless meal was finished, and despite Lucy's weak protests, her friends insisted on sticking around to help clean up afterwards. After seeing their guests to the door and bidding them good night (and brought to tears again by Denise and Michelle's compassionate hugs), it wasn't much longer until it was time to head upstairs and start their usual bedtime routine.

The girls played quietly in their room while Lucy bathed her drowsy son. Thankfully, Ethan was much too young to notice his mother's tears as she gently dried off the toddler and got him in his jammies. With great effort, she had herself under control by the time her son was fast asleep and it was the twins' turn. As a special treat, Lucy tossed a couple of their favorite bath bombs into the tub, and soon the room was scented with the sweet smell of cotton candy bubbles. Watching her little girls laughing and happily splashing around, so innocent and unaware of the possible danger their beloved Daddy was facing, her eyes began to well up once more, and she had to turn away for a second to grab a tissue and compose herself.

"Hey, Mommy? Are you all sad 'cause Daddy is on a trip for DeeDee?" Amy asked suddenly with a puzzled frown, staring up at Lucy curiously. Despite her heavy heart, Lucy couldn't help but smile fondly at her young daughter's surprisingly mature question. While Amy definitely favored her mother in looks and build-unlike her twin, who was more gregarious and shared her feelings easily-she was more reserved in nature like her father (and had definitely inherited Wyatt Logan's tendency to brood).

Kneeling down beside the tub, Lucy scooped up some bubbles and playfully dotted the end of Amy's tiny pert nose. "Mommy's fine, little one. Just missing your Daddy, I guess," she told her, grateful the six-year-old was easily distracted by the bubbles, giggling and swiping at her little face with soapy hands. The next hour passed mercifully fast until finally, all three of the Logan children were asleep and their home was quiet at last.

She stood in the doorway of her daughters' bedroom a few extra minutes watching them slumber when out of nowhere came the irrational-truly unbearable-thought that if something really had happened to Wyatt and he never came home, Lucy was already experiencing what would be a painfully solitary future without the man she loved. And solitary it would be, because as long as she lived, there would never, ever be another man who could replace Wyatt Logan in her heart and soul.

Her fragile, hard-won composure snapped in a heartbeat. A harsh, choked sob tore from Lucy's throat as she raced along the hallway to the master bedroom, eager for the peaceful sanctuary of the room she shared with her husband. Once inside, she slowly, painstakingly shut the door behind her with trembling hands and leaned against it. Completely alone now with her tortured thoughts for the first time since Denise had brought her the terrible news, Lucy's knees began to shake, and it took all her strength to stagger across the room to the closet. Throwing open the doors and reaching inside for one of Wyatt's well-worn flannel shirts, she clumsily jerked it off the hanger–so hard the hanger fell unheeded to the floor-and swiftly wrapped it around herself, shivering fiercely despite the warmth of the heavy garment.

Climbing onto the bed still fully clothed, she curled on her side, bringing the over-sized shirt to her nose with shaking fingers, and inhaling deeply, was greatly comforted by her husband's faint scent lingering on the soft fabric. Where are you, Wyatt? Our babies need you...I need you, Lucy whispered brokenly, at last succumbing to the tremendous flood of tears she'd managed to keep at bay the past few hours and eventually crying herself to sleep...

Predictably, she slept poorly that first night after receiving the news, seeming to wake every hour or so, often with Wyatt's name on her lips. It felt like every time she closed her eyes, Lucy clearly pictured him standing before her in Ethan's nursery just seconds before he left, and the disturbing thought of that moment possibly being the last time she would ever see him alive viciously tormented her dreams. Just before dawn, she woke suddenly, whimpering, cheeks damp with tears, and gasping heavily for breath as her mind replayed a particularly vivid nightmare in which Denise Christopher returned to the Logan home–only this time to tell Lucy that her husband had been killed.

Without warning, her empty stomach cramped painfully. Crawling out of bed, Lucy staggered into the bathroom and dropping to her knees in front of the toilet, violently threw up the minute amount of dinner she forced herself to eat last night. Slumping listlessly against the tub, she shivered and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Every muscle in her exhausted, pushed-to-the-limit body ached as if she'd contracted some kind of strange virus. Distraught as she was, however, in the back of her mind, Lucy was aware her youngest child would wake soon, hungry and needing his Mama to change his diaper. You really have to get it together, she told herself bleakly, because your children are counting on you...and Wyatt is, too.

Lucy indulged her self pity for only a few seconds longer before laboriously getting to her feet and wobbling over to the wash stand on unsteady legs. Standing in front of the oval mirror hanging over the sink, she barely recognized her own reflection. In only a matter of hours, grief and fear had begun to dull her complexion and etch dark shadows under her tear-swollen eyes. Lucy felt as if she'd aged twenty years overnight. God, she looked bad–though not nearly as bad as she felt, blinking back tears.

Mindlessly shedding her clothes, she climbed into the tub and turned on the shower, letting the warm water slowly wash away the tears and gradually soothe her aching muscles. Absently working shampoo through her thick hair, Lucy decided the only way to survive the agonizing days before her until Wyatt returned was to save her natural fear and grief for him until after the children went to bed each night. Mind made up, she made herself concentrate on the myriad tasks awaiting her once Flynn, Amy, and Ethan woke. Moving a little faster now, she hurriedly finished her shower. By the time she'd dried off and dressed, thankfully, Lucy almost felt like herself, as ready as she could manage to face the day and whatever it brought.

In spite of her determination to remain optimistic, however, the following days managed to severely test her resolve as Lucy fought to stay hopeful and stave off the apprehension hanging over her every waking moment. Nights were spent alternately dozing and weeping silently while curled around Wyatt's pillow, as Lucy tried desperately to fill her mind with as many memories of him as she could in hopes he might visit her dreams...

The strong, unforeseen attraction she felt the first time Lucy laid eyes on the arrogant (but so hot) stranger at Mason Industries...those gorgeous blue eyes...sexy dimples...his strong, muscular body...

How quickly (and effortlessly) the brooding, protective soldier took possession of her vulnerable heart...

Their completely unexpected first kiss when Lucy experienced the devastating result of Wyatt's surprisingly reckless nature...

Her endless longing for Wyatt during her six weeks of Rittenhouse captivity, and the incredible joy she felt when they were reunited in 1918 France...

That unforgettable night in 1941 Hollywood when they became lovers...

His cautious but oh so hopeful expression when she confessed her love in 1950 Korea...

The beautiful, intimate ceremony where she became Wyatt's wife...followed just months afterwards by the day they became the parents of twin daughters, and then the Halloween five years later when they welcomed little Ethan and their family was complete...

Yes, in just ten short years, together, she and her husband had lived and loved and built a life they both cherished...one that meant everything to Lucy. Wyatt was alive, she knew it deep in her heart. All she had to do was be brave and never lose hope of his eventual return. Unfortunately, at times, that was turning out to be easier said than done.

"Courage doesn't mean you don't get afraid...courage means you don't let fear stop you..." - Bethany Hamilton

While physically sticking to the family's usual schedule as closely as possible to maintain a sense of normality for the children, emotionally and mentally, however, she was a wreck, constantly anxious and on edge. The sole highlight of each day was when Denise faithfully checked in with her. True to her word, her friend called in as many favors as possible to stay apprised of the few scraps of news coming out of Syria, something that did help calm Lucy's nerves slightly.

The third afternoon after learning her husband was missing, Lucy's phone chimed with a text from Rufus not too long before it was time for her to wake Ethan from his afternoon nap so they could get the twins when school dismissed.

Hey, girl, where's that man of yours? I texted him a couple of days ago but didn't get a response, which isn't like Wyatt Logan at all. Everything ok?

Staring in dismay at the device, she bit her lip uncertainly. Lucy had been so wrapped up in what was going on with Wyatt, she was barely conscious of anyone or anything outside of the herculean task of getting herself through the dark days while keeping life as normal as possible for her children. At the casual reminder there were other people in their small circle who cared about him, too, she felt an almost overwhelming urge to confide in their best friend. Wondering uneasily if there were rules in a situation like this that forbid sharing top-secret military information or something, Lucy hastily texted Denise.

Luckily, the other woman responded mere seconds later that as long as Rufus and Jiya didn't tell anyone else, it should be alright for Lucy to talk to them about Wyatt's mission and its status. Blinking away a couple tears of relief, she tapped out a reply to Rufus with trembling fingers...

Well, actually, there's something important I need to talk to you and Jiya about. Would you guys like to come over for dinner tonight, if you don't already have plans? I can order some pizza or subs or something. I know the girls and Ethan would love to see you...and I really would, too.

Lucy practically held her breath until Rufus returned her text.

Um, ok, now you're being all mysterious and kinda scary :( And you definitely didn't answer my question about Wyatt–which makes me think something might be very wrong. So, anyway, let me check with Jiya, but dinner tonight should be fine. Don't worry, we'll bring the pizzas. Around 5:00 work? And Lucy, whatever this is all about, you are gonna get through it 'cause we are here for you...

A pathetically grateful Lucy hurriedly answered, yes, 5:00 is fine, and just like that, magically felt a small portion of the heavy weight she'd been carrying around for days slip from her shoulders. With a somewhat lighter heart, she ran upstairs to wake her son and head over to the elementary school to pick up Flynn and Amy. After getting the girls, Lucy decided to stop at a small park not far from their house so they could run off some excess energy. The six-year-olds cheered loudly when she told them on the drive home Uncle Rufus and Aunt Jiya were bringing over pizza for dinner, and Lucy couldn't help but smile when she noticed in the rear view mirror Ethan grinning at his big sisters and waving his chubby hands-despite having no idea what was going on-because like always, he was happy if Amy and Flynn were.

Predictably, the littlest Logans were plenty worked up when the doorbell rang around 5:00. While the twins crowded around their honorary aunt, eagerly talking over each other about their day at school, her delighted toddler wrapped chubby arms around Rufus' leg and wouldn't let go. For a few precious seconds, Lucy's front entryway rang with the reassuringly normal sounds of excited children and of course, her friend's always infectious cackle.

After a hectic few seconds, Jiya wordlessly exchanged a meaningful glance with Rufus before bending down to swing Ethan onto her hip and help the girls carry the pizza boxes into the dining room where Lucy had already set out plates, napkins and drinks. In the sudden quiet after they left, her heart began to fill with dread. Now that Rufus was actually standing here in front of her, just saying out loud the unthinkable words, "Wyatt was sent on a top-secret mission to Syria and now he's missing and the Army has no idea if he's dead or alive," somehow made this whole nightmare seem terribly, dangerously real, and completely shattered her self control, already hanging by the slimmest of threads.

"Lucy?" Tearing her gaze from the now empty hallway that led to the kitchen and dining room, she shivered and turned to face her friend. "Hey, girl, what's going on?" he prompted gently, and that was all it took. Eyes brimming, Lucy clumsily grabbed for his large hand and dragged Rufus into the living room. Pulling him down to sit on the sofa beside her, the words spilled from her trembling lips even faster than the tears that came as she told him how their world had been turned upside down when Wyatt had been summarily dragged out of retirement from the Army to head up a covert military operation in Syria and even worse, that he and his team had gone missing three days ago.

Through it all, though he wore a dismayed frown, Rufus listened intently and kept a tight grasp on her hand. Finally, Lucy's increasingly scratchy voice trailed away. Swallowing thickly, she stared at him with bleary eyes, unaccountably relieved by sharing this awful burden with someone who knew and loved Wyatt, too.

"God, Lucy, I'm so sorry," Rufus muttered, tugging her into a warm hug. "Even though Jiya and I felt it wasn't like Wyatt to not answer a text, we sure as hell had no idea something like this was going on. What was the Army thinking, pulling him back in like this? I mean, does the word 'retired' not mean a damn thing to these people?" he rumbled in her ear, sounding so pissed off on her behalf that Lucy couldn't help but smile faintly. There was never a truer friend than Rufus Carlin...

Drawing away from him, Lucy swiped at her damp cheeks, and clearing her throat, softly thanked her friend for coming over. "Letting me cry on your shoulder, allowing me the chance to work through some of my fear for Wyatt's life, well, it means more to me than I can say, Rufus. Thank you for listening." He inclined his head and nodded solemnly at her gratitude before standing suddenly and pulling Lucy to her feet.

"Any time, girl, plus, I meant what I said before...Jiya and I are here for you and the kids in whatever way you need. Alright, I have only one more thing to say, because seriously, if we don't get in there soon, those little rug rats of yours will probably eat all the pizza, and I'm starving," he teased, flashing her a satisfied grin when she hesitantly returned his smile. "Yeah, I know you're scared, and God, you have every reason to be. However, as your friend, I gotta remind you Mr. Delta Force has definitely been in a lot tougher spots than this before-because, hey, time travel–which means I have no doubt whatsoever Wyatt will be home safe and sound before you know it. And don't forget, during those six weeks you spent as your mom's captive, he never once, ever, gave up hope you were alive and that the two of you would be reunited-so you can do no less, Lucy Logan."

Despite the inevitable rush of tears his fervent and immensely reassuring words brought, just like that, Lucy knew she'd done the right thing confiding in her good friend. He'd known exactly what to say to make her feel better, to take away some of her pain and fear, and she'd be forever grateful. Offering him a shaky smile, Lucy took the warm hand he held out to her, and followed him into the dining room to join the others, feeling calmer and definitely more hopeful than she had in days. Rufus was absolutely right...there was no one smarter or stronger or more resourceful than Wyatt Logan. And for the first time since getting the news he'd gone missing on the other side of the world, Lucy believed deep in her heart that her husband would come home to her and their children...

"Hope knows no fear...hope dares to blossom, even inside the abysmal abyss...hope secretly feeds and strengthens promise." - Sri Chinmoy

A/N #2: As always, my thanks to all of you who continue to read (and hopefully enjoy) Timeless fics. Your faves, follows and kind reviews of my stories are so encouraging and much appreciated :))