Fucking Rittenhouse. Would they ever just stop trying to ruin his life?
The answer was a resounding NO, apparently. Agent Christopher had Lucy and Rufus jump with Flynn and Mason of all people and she had even given Flynn a weapon. Flynn had a damn weapon and was God only knows where with Lucy and Rufus.
He wasn't freaking out. He knew deep down Flynn would keep them safe but that didn't help quell his fears in the slightest. Any time two of them jumped without the third, shit happened. People died, or got stabbed, or got trapped in a murder castle with a serial killer.
He turned on Agent Christopher, not giving a damn that Jiya was right next to her. "I don't know what the hell is going on right now, but I'm gonna tell you something. From now on, my team doesn't jump without me. You can put whoever the hell you want in that fourth seat, but I am there. No discussions. Nothing is more important than my team."
She didn't even bat an eyelash. "Not even stopping Rittenhouse for good?"
He didn't either. "Not even that."
He watched out of the corner of his eye at Jiya trying not to laugh at him.
He couldn't help the smirk that came over his face. "But since I'm here, what's the plan?"
The plan was shit and they all knew it. Even Jiya. But it was the first solid lead they had. It was a chance to end it all. For Lucy to finally have a normal life. It was enough for him to try, danger be damned. So he got ready. Did a thorough PMCS on his weapon and equipment before sitting down and writing a long letter to Lucy. If something happened to him, she deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know that he left his life loving her with every fiber of his being. He had asked Agent Christopher to print out a few forms before he left. His letter wasn't enough. He wanted to make sure that Lucy was taken care of if something happened to him.
Jiya walked into his room as he was signing his name on the letter. "Hey. Are you ready?"
Wyatt nodded.
"I filled out the papers you wanted. Any particular reason you wanted them filled out again with Lucy as your beneficiary?"
Wyatt simply held out his hand for the papers and signed them.
"What do you think, Marri?" he asked as he handed them back to her.
She smiled as she took them back. "I think...there's an impression where your ring used to sit on your finger. Maybe you didn't sleep last night and that's why there's an empty bottle of Jack dumped in the kitchen sink."
It's frightening how perceptive the techie is, no less as sharp in her assessment as his brothers in the field.
"I also think that your wife has either won an all expenses paid trip to Tahiti, or she's waiting at the nearest Greyhound stop, 'cause she's nowhere to be found in the middle of the morning. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but it seems 1941 isn't so far away? How is my thinking, Logan?"
Wyatt laughed as he handed her the letter. Jesus, he could understand why Rufus had it so bad. "Do me a favor? Get those documents into the database as soon as you can and give this to Lucy if I don't make it back."
She snatched the letter from him. "Don't say that. You'll be fine."
He stood up, grabbed his flac vest and put it on. "Listen, I don't know what your timeline is like now, but we were friends in mine. When Lucy was missing, you patched up my hand after I punched a wall in the bathroom. You were the only one that didn't tell me i should give up hope. I need you to do this for me." He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Promise me, Jiya."
"I...I promise." He nodded at her, a small smile creasing his face, as he removed his hands. He went to walk past her, but she caught his hand in hers. "For what it's worth, we were friends in my timeline too."
"Thanks, Jiya."
"No problem. Don't be a hero, okay?"
It didn't take long for the mission to become a complete and total disaster. One man infiltrating a secret sleeper cell was never something that was going to end well. By the end of it, he was bloody and bruised and extremely pissed off. He had the chance to kill Carol Preston and he didn't do it. He hesitated because of Lucy. Because the thought of taking away her last link to Amy was enough to kill him. It didn't matter what she had done. She was still her mother and he wasn't going to be responsible for taking that away from her. It didn't matter what Agent Christopher had been screaming in his ear. He would never do something like that to Lucy.
Then Agent Christopher had the audacity to question his motives and how he did his job.
"I'm sorry? You're the one that sent me in here by myself to get intel. Did you really think this wouldn't happen? Did you really think that I could get in and out of this place without getting noticed? The only reason I am here is because Carol Preston had someone rough you up and threaten your family. You don't get to take the moral high ground with me when you're just as compromised as I am."
When he finally got back to the bunker, the first thing he heard was Lucy's laugh. God, how he wanted that. To be able to come home after a long day and listen to it. Or just watch her sleep. Anything that involved a future with her. But he couldn't have that if he didn't get a chance to talk to her, so when he saw her walking down the hallway with Flynn, he didn't hesitate.
"Lucy, can I talk to you a minute?"
He watched her face fall from a happy laugh to a concerned scowl as she took in his appearance, his weapon in one hand and kevlar in the other. He knew his face was streaked with sweat and dirt and he was just a tad bloody over his right eye. He watched her eyes rake over him and prayed what he saw in them was concern.
"I've had better days," he told her.
"What did Agent Christopher have you do?
"Can we not talk in the hallway? I need to tell you a few things. Can we talk in my room?"
Her eyes flew to his. "What about Jessica?"
"Jessica isn't here."
"What? Why?"
"She left this morning. She's at her apartment packing."
"Oh, she's moving in?"
"More like she's moving on. She's going into Witness Protection."
"Why? We can keep her safe here. You and Jessica-"
"There is no 'me and Jessica' anymore, Lucy. I signed the divorce papers."
Lucy opened her mouth to say something but never got the chance to. Hurried footsteps to his right had him turning and he only had a second to brace himself before Jiya threw herself into his arms.
"Whoa, Marri…" He ignored the pain in his side as he wrapped his arm around her back.
"You are not Chuck Norris, Wyatt Sherwin Logan!" She mumbled into his tactical vest before stepping back and giving him an accusing glance. "Damn you to hell for what you put me through! Did you even think of what would have happened if you died? I swear to God, I would have resuscitated you and killed you myself! I thought for a second I was going to have to give that letter to Lucy! God, I could kill you..."
"Jiya..." He could see the sheen of tears in her eyes and was absurdly touched. He ruffled her hair with his free hand before pulling her into a hug. "I'm okay."
"I hate you."
"Sure, Marri. That's why you're crying all over me...Because I didn't die."
"Um, guys...What happened? Why does Wyatt think he's Chuck Norris and what letter are you talking about?"
Jiya jumped back, her eyes darting between them full of panic and apology. "I-uh...He'll explain. I love your hat, by the way." she smiled and ran back down the hall.
"What letter is she talking about?"
"I'll explain everything, just not out here."
She walked beside him down the hallway, peppering him with questions the along the way. He didn't think she realized where she was going until she was halfway in his room and he had shut the door. It cracked through the room like a gunshot, startling her enough to have her turning around to face him. He couldn't stop staring at her. It was the first time they had been truly alone in almost three days. The echoes of the last time they had been in his room together blared in the silence. He could hear her giggle and his own answering laugh. They had been so happy and he had thrown it all away for something that hadn't been worth the cost.
Color was high on her cheeks as she held his gaze. "I...What happened today, Wyatt?"
He cleared his throat and tried to focus. He rested his weapon against the side of his wall locker and put his kevlar on the small table next to the door.
"Ah, we found out where Rittenhouse's headquarters were. We have them on the run now."
Her eyes were wide and just a tad scared. "Oh. My mother?"
His smile was tight. He knew he had done the right thing. "She got away."
"Oh." Her eyes danced over his face, down his body. "Are you- are you okay? Jiya made it sound like you almost..." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the floor.
"Hey. Hey," He closed the distance between them then cupped her chin in his hand to raise her eyes to his. "I'm okay. It came close, but I'm alright. Just some busted ribs and a cut above my eye."
He felt her fingertips touch the hand that cradled her face and he felt like he couldn't breathe as they traced up his arm until she reached his face. Her thumb grazed over the small cut above his eye and he felt his control quake.
"Lucy..." His thumb reflexively returned the caress against her chin, trailing down until this thumb rested against the small red line on her throat.
He missed being able to touch her, to hold her. His free hand moved of its own violation down to her waist until it rested on the curve of her hip.
He couldn't stop the shudder of pleasure that went through him as her hand moved into his hair, her short nails scraping against his scalp. God, he was so tired. All he wanted to do was curl up against her and forget everything but the two of them. That couldn't happen, though. Not until he said what he needed to say.
"Lucy, we need to talk."
"Not yet." She murmured, bringing both of her hands to his tactical vest and undoing the straps and zipper. "Let me take care of you first."
He let her undress him like he was a child until he was standing before bare chested, showing her his battle scars. He watched her take in the sight, the smattering if bruises on his chest and arms, the large dark red bruise on the right side of his rib cage. She ran her hand down it before laying it over the bruise, as if her love could heal him. Who knows? Maybe it could.
He couldn't seem to breathe properly. He loved her so much. How could he have ever thought he could have lived without her?
"I miss you," he whispered, his left hand reaching out to play with her curls. "I miss us."
Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes wide with something he couldn't read. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"What happened with Jessica?"
"I told her some truths and we decided it would be better to have a clean break. She deserves a life with someone who doesn't live the kind of life that I'm living now. She deserves someone who will be wholly devoted to her, without thinking about all of the regret and pain of losing someone like you."
"Like me?"
"Like you. Listen, a part of me will always love Jessica. I'm happy she's alive, but she's not the one I want a future with. It's you. It's always going to be you."
Her head tilts to the side, her doe eyes staring at him with that something that made his heart pound at Mason. The possibilities of what? He can tell she can feel it too, in the way her eyes shift across his face, then down to the floor. "I- I'll be right back."
"Don't leave."
She can't meet his eyes, her eyes still trained onto the floor. "I'm just going to get some stuff to help clean you up. Just give me a minute, okay?"
He would give her anything. "Okay. I'll- uh, take a shower and meet you back here. Take however long you need."
He took about ten minutes longer in the shower than he needed to. He needed time to figure out what he was going to say. He couldn't just blurt out 'I love you' and expect her to fall into his arms. She deserved more than that. She needed time and, god help him, so did he. He needed to figure out who he was now. He wasn't a widower with a vendetta anymore. He wasn't the man who didn't care whether he lived or died. So who was he? Who was he to these people he was trapped with in this hell hole?
He took his thoughts and his heavy heart back into his room only to find Lucy already there emptying what looked like a pharmacy out the bag she had set on his bed. She had changed out of her 1930's clothes and looked just the way he liked best. Her hair was up on the top of her head, giving him that view of her beautiful neck and those tiny ears he had been so obsessed with in Hollywood. She had on her baggy sweats and that yellow floral robe that made him want to do the most ridiculously delicious things to her body. He had indulged in many fantasies of that robe and all the things it hid from him. Maybe now is not the best time to get carried away by your dick, Logan.
"Hey. Did you go hold up a CVS or something?"
He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she arranged the boxes and bandages. "I kinda raided the med room. I didn't know what you might need so I brought it all."
She turned to him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was nervously playing with the edge of her robe while her other hand caressed the back of her neck. He could feel his own anxiety at the thought of the conversation they needed to have. It made him feel absurdly better that she was just as nervous as he was.
He was trying to figure out what to say when she beckoned him over to her with a graceful wave of her hand. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on, just his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He watched her eyes take him in as he walked toward her and couldn't help but feel a little thrill. Maybe there was hope. Maybe there was a chance for the two of them.
He stopped in front of her and waited patiently while she wrapped his torso and stomach with an ace bandage. Her hands fumbled a little. He could feel them tremble against his skin. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her, that he would always love her and that she was the only one for him. He wanted it more than anything, but he knew he had to be patient. He could only give her what she would receive.
She tied off the bandage and gave it a slight tug.
"Is that too tight?" He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just shook his head. "Okay. Maybe you can sit down and I'll clean that cut over your eye."
He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs so she could stand between them. He tried not to look at her. He tried not to remember the last time they had been in that very same position when they had been in such a different place in their relationship. He had been able to pull her to him then and she had straddled his lap willingly, laughingly. God, had it really been less than a week? It felt like a lifetime ago and he had no one to blame but himself. He wanted it back. He wanted it all back. All he wanted was cuddles and got nothing but struggles. Maybe that should go on his gravestone. The thought made him chuckle in spite of himself.
Here lies Wyatt Logan….
"What?" She asked as she wiped an alcohol pad over his cut. He hissed against the sting and was rewarded with her soft breath against his skin. "Sorry."
The silence was almost unbearable as she worked on him. He could feel the flush creeping up his neck, could see the telltale signs of discomfort on her face. He wanted nothing more than to soothe her, tell her that it was all going to be alright, but he wasn't sure if she would listen. If she would even want to.
She finished with her task but didn't pull away. She just stared down at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. He couldn't look away from her; he couldn't speak. He knew there were a million things he should be saying, a million promises he should be giving her, but he couldn't move.
The air changed between them when her hand came up to his face to rest there for a moment and then moved to his hair, caressing his scalp. It reminded him so much of those tender moments in 1941 that his throat slammed shut. He moved forward slowly, to give her time to move away, until his forehead rested against her stomach and just breathed her in. He felt both of her hands on him now, one on the back of his head and the other on his back.
His hands trailed up her thighs, over the worn cotton until they rested on her hips and just held her. He knew she was crying because he could feel her stomach contract against him, he could hear her labored breathing above him. He still couldn't speak so he only wrapped his arms around her back, pressed his cheek against her and closed his eyes. Minutes went by, maybe hours. He couldn't bring himself to care.
"I can't do this." She whispered as she pulled herself away from him.
He felt the loss of her like another body blow. He stood from the bed, panic pressing into his chest.
"Please don't leave. Please don't leave me." His voice quivered, he could feel the tears twisting in his throat.
He sounded desperate, he knew it, but he didn't have time for pride. His very heartbeat was on the line. If she walked out that door now he didn't know if she would ever walk back through it.
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
She shook her head.
No, they weren't doing this anymore. "No, Lucy tell me. Tell me how you feel."
"It doesn't matter how I feel."
"Lucy, I am standing here with my heart in my hands. Don't tell me it doesn't matter."
Still nothing, the radio silence fills the room and he can feel what's left of his tattered heart break. No, this is not how this ends. It can't be.
"Do you want me to tell you how I feel? Do you want me to say the words?"
He could see it now, plain as day, the heartbreak on her face. The hope that mingled with it. Her head shakes as she brings a hand up to her throat and it's all he can do not to walk over and take her into his arms.
"I don't know. I - It hurts too much to hope and then be disappointed. I don't know if I-"
"I love you," He said it before he could stop himself. Before it was too late. He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it and now it was too late to take it back. With a sad shake of his head he continued. "I should have told you before. Rufus kept trying to get me to tell you, to say it, but I thought we had all the time in the world." He laughed then, the hollow sound echoed through the room. "Did you know that I made reservations at that restaurant on the pier that you kept telling me you wanted to try?"
She looked shocked and absolutely devastated. He hated it. "You did?"
"You left to go talk to your mother and I was planning on how I was going to tell you I loved you. I was going to give it about two weeks after we got back. You would have had your sister back and would have dealt with whatever was going to happen to your mother. I wasn't going back to Pendleton for another month and I thought we had time. I was going to lay it all out for you, tell you how I felt. I started googling private security jobs up here for me because whatever we decided to do, I wasn't going to give you up." This was wrong. It was all wrong. He hadn't planned on telling her any of this, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I thought I could wait two weeks. Two weeks was nothing compared to everything we had been through and then-"
"And then the explosion happened."
"No, Lucy. Then you were gone and you took my heart with you."