BROKEN - Chapter 3

Wyatt was well aware that he had used up the last little bit of goodwill remaining between himself and Agent Christopher. The mere fact that he actually asked for permission to leave the bunker this time may have helped, but her stern warning had held the same forcefulness she had always carried.

"Wyatt," she had cautioned in a low voice, eyes full of barely concealed disapproval as they walked to the heavy exit door. "You go get your answers and get back here. But be careful," she had warned, "I don't for one second think your wife's reappearance is simply a coincidence."

"Neither do I," he had agreed, palming his burner phone from his jeans pocket and flipping it to her through the air. At her questioning look he had simply stated, "If things go bad I don't want anything out there that can be used to find this place." She gave him a small nod of understanding, and possibly even approval, as she unlocked the door and pulled it back.

"When Lucy wakes up in the morning, please tell her I will be back as soon as I can," he asked quickly, his eyes pleading with Christopher to feel as confident about his return as he did.

She nodded. "Good luck, Master Sergeant."

That had been two and a half hours ago. Now, at 7:30 in the morning, he was casually perched at a café table outside a local coffee shop, slowly sipping the best latte he had consumed in months and looking forward to devouring the large blueberry scone sitting beside it. He held back a smile as he thought of all the various pastries in the display case, mostly because he was imagining his favorite historian pressing her nose against the glass trying to make a decision. Lucy loved homemade pastries and was hard pressed to pick a favorite, but if his scone was half as good as it looked he knew he would have to take one back to the bunker for her.

His eyes scanned up and down the narrow street for the umpteenth time since he sat down. Nothing was amiss thus far, but he knew while he was out and about he had to remain vigilant. Rittenhouse would like nothing more than to catch him off guard. Best case scenario they would eliminate him and he would simply cease to exist. Worst case scenario they would somehow tail him back to the bunker and attack his whole team.

He checked his watch again, and not a minute later was met with the sight he had been waiting for. A young woman had parked her car half a block up the street and was locking it with her key fob as she crossed towards the coffee shop. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a ballcap perched atop her head, but Wyatt knew her face like he knew his own.

Jessica.

His breath hitched, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. It still seemed so unreal to him, that the woman he had been trying to save all through time was now here right in front of him alive and well. She must have felt the power of his thoughts, for she looked up right as she reached the store and met his eyes instantly. She pointed, indicating she was going to order, and he gave a small wave.

Within minutes she had joined him at his table, a tall white cup in her hand as she sat.

"Good morning," she began. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you again so soon after you ran out of the bar last night."

"Sorry about that," he answered automatically, his eyes absorbing every movement she made. Her lips wrapped around the coffee cup as she took a long drink, and she gave a soft smile after noticing his intense gaze.

"Geez, Wyatt, you act like you haven't seen me in months," she commented with another smile.

"Years, actually." Her wary gaze brought him back to reality quickly and he mentally kicked himself for letting that slip. He had no idea what kind of relationship they had in this timeline, but if she wasn't what she seemed he sure didn't need to tip his hand this early.

Jessica appraised him through guarded eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answered a bit too quickly. "Yes. I am great. How are you?"

She laughed, a sound that broke his heart all over again and repaired it at the same time. "Wyatt, what is going on with you? I text you to come by the bar and sign papers, you show up and act like you've seen a ghost, talking about how I died or something. Then you take off with some lame excuse and text me at two in the morning to meet for 8am coffee. This is weird, even for you," she finished, taking another drink of her coffee as she waited for his response.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again, trying his best to turn on his charm smile. "I got a work call right as I got to the bar and had to leave right away."

Jessica's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. "Work, huh?"

He nodded, hoping it was a plausible explanation for his seemingly erratic behavior.

"So what amazing time period did you travel to last night then?" she asked innocently.

He stared at her, desperately attempting to keep his mouth from falling open in shock. It took several seconds before he was able to right himself and lean a bit further towards her over the table. "What did you just say?" he whispered lowly.

"Wyatt," she leaned further over the small table as well, until their faces were in each other's airspace. "It's no surprise. I know all about what you've been doing with Mason Industries. Or rather, what you WERE doing with Mason before the whole place was turned into a giant fireball."

She paused for a long moment, looking deep into his eyes before she gathered herself to continue. "More importantly, I know about Rittenhouse. And I am just what you need to destroy them for good."

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