AN: I don't go out of my way to find plot holes, but seriously how the hell does Flynn find clothes in the past that fit him?! And calling a random plumber in 1969 – NO. There is no fucking way those coveralls fit him. He would have looked like he was preparing for a flood. It's as much bullshit as nobody recognizing Clark Kent is Superman because he slouches a bit and wears glasses.
I don't own Timeless, but all my plot holes are my own.
Agent Christopher had arrived, promptly, at noon to debrief Roxanne, and by 5:00 in the evening, Flynn was antsy. Lucy had gamely agreed to help him watch Frankie after Roxanne had emerged for a quick bite just before Christopher's arrival. The whole bunker had known, of course, long before seeing Flynn that morning about the new arrival. Jiya, for her part, didn't much care – she'd been working on modifications to the lifeboat nearly around the clock with Mason her eager, though increasingly concerned, assistant.
Actually, Flynn wasn't 100% positive she wasn't working literally around the clock and was only inches away from searching her room for amphetamines. Until he reminded himself he didn't care. But still.
Lucy had cornered him at the coffee maker fist thing that morning, much to Wyatt's ire. The fact was, of course, that Wyatt hadn't spoken much to their "prisoner" and thus it was his own damn fault for making himself useless to Lucy's rabid curiosity. Flynn had shared what he felt comfortable sharing, though she clearly knew he was holding back, and Lucy was nearly beside herself with anticipation until Roxanne had tentatively entered the common area, carrying what appeared to be an actual, for-real Muppet.
Frankie's wickedly curling hair was frizzed and molded in every direction but the right one. She was in Wonder Woman pajamas and carried a plush llama under one arm with her head laying lazily on Roxanne's shoulder. Mom looked somewhat more composed – showered and dressed in jeans and black sweater – but equally as tired. Flynn thought, instantly, to relieve her of the weighty charge, but thought the last thing she needed at meeting a room full of strangers was for someone to waltz up and take her kid as if they knew her.
"Good morning," Lucy said brightly, "I mean, it is technically still morning. I'm sorry, I'm Lucy, Lucy Preston." She stepped forward to shake hands, but Roxanne had her hands full with a groggy child who refused to use both hands to hang on.
"Sorry," she demurred, "I don't think I've had to carry her as much in the last 24 months as I have in the last 24 hours. I'm Roxanne. Oliver. And this is Frankie."
"Oh my goodness, Frankie?" Lucy sighed, looking wistfully at the bashful face and mop of unruly auburn hair.
"Well, Francesca," Roxanne explained, moving closer into the room to find a place to sit. Flynn made a move to get up, but Lucy was on it, pulling out a chair for the other woman to sit at the table. "Her father hated that I called her Frankie and even if I didn't like it so much I'd have kept it up just to spite him." Suddenly, she cringed, "I'm sorry, that was random and petty and I am just…"
"No, no no. We fully support petty around here. Reward it, actually," Lucy interrupted. "And I agree that is just a wonderful name."
Flynn was a little taken aback at Lucy's uncharacteristically solicitous greeting, but as he watched her make tea for both of them, making small talk before sitting down next to Roxanne, he came to realize just how alone she must be feeling. Her mother had been killed, and she couldn't even grieve the woman properly when her last words to Lucy had been regret over not indoctrinating her sooner. Jiya had all but vanished into her work since the forward-time team had left; and while Denise was closer to Lucy than anyone else in the bunker, she was still the boss, and she went home to her family each night. Flynn cared deeply for Lucy, but no matter what he said, he could never take the place of close female friendship. Then there was Wyatt.
The mission to get Rufus back weighed on all of them and Lucy needed a friendship that wasn't so fraught – a blank slate. That this new, unexpected guest was a woman had to be both irresistible and tense – Lucy wanted to make a good impression. The trouble was, of course, Roxanne wouldn't be staying. They didn't have the space, and while she definitely needed protection from Rittenhouse, bringing her into the fold would only raise her profile with those wackadoos. Never mind she had a child to raise.
Taking a grim sip of his coffee, Flynn set his mind to have a talk with Lucy once the debriefing began.
By 12:30, Frankie was sacked out on the sofa next to Lucy. They'd been watching old Merry Melodies cartoons, but the kid hadn't lasted long. Flynn had situated himself at one of the dining tables, reading, but when Lucy got up to wash her tea mug, Flynn set the book down.
"So, what do you think of our guest?" he asked,
"She seems nice," Lucy shrugged, "I mean, it is a little unorthodox, but when are you not?"
"Thank you," he replied, and she laughed. "I just noticed you were very curious about her."
"Well, of course," she allowed, sitting down at an adjacent chair, "I mean, she was targeted by Rittenhouse, she's unknown and we haven't had anyone new here since–" she faltered. Since Jessica, Flynn concluded in his head.
"And you could use a friend," Flynn supplied, gently. He leaned forward and took her hand in his, "Now that Jiya's– busy and Rufus…"
"Look, I know what you're getting at," Lucy said, straightening her posture and patting his hand on hers reassuringly, "I'm fine, I'm just curious and I want– I want her to feel welcome. You know, assuming she's not a spy." That last was said with some mirth, but it weighed heavy between them. How much did she trust his judgment on this, really? How much did he?
"All I'm saying is, I know this is a bad time for you. And I just," he paused, squeezing her hand just a little tighter, "She won't be staying here. If Rittenhouse is after her, Christopher will find a way to protect her, but not here. Bringing her in, exposing her to this, only makes her a bigger target. And this isn't a place to raise a child." Lucy glanced over at the sitting area where Frankie lay sleeping.
"Poor thing," Lucy breathed, still not removing her hand from his. "Both of them, they've been through so much." It was on-brand Lucy, thinking of others even when her whole world had altered irrevocably. Still, Flynn suspected the subject of their conversation wouldn't have cared for anyone's pity.
"They deserve a normal life," he agreed. "The little one must just be about ready to start preschool."
"I mean, I am a very good teacher."
"Don't try to turn her into the weird, fallout shelter homeschool kid, Lucy." Lucy laughed outright at that, the sober bent of their conversation broken. Just then, Wyatt walked into the kitchen, fresh out of the gym. He took in the sight of them; seated together at the table, laughing at some private joke with hands clasped; and shot Flynn a murderous look.
"What's for lunch?" he asked gruffly. Lucy pulled her hand away from Flynn's, much to his disappointment, and beamed at Wyatt.
"Whatever you're able to cook," she pointed out, "So, peanut butter and jelly, again?"
"I'll have you know, I was the best cook in Delta Force during wilderness survival training," Wyatt assured as he opened the refrigerator, clearly pleased to have drawn her attention.
"Is that a compliment?" Lucy turned to Flynn. Arms crossed, he shook his head gravely and mouthed a 'no.'
"So, what's the word on our, uh, 'guest?'" Wyatt asked, setting cold-cuts and condiments on the counter.
Wyatt's question wouldn't be answered until 6:30 that evening. Frankie had finally woken up, energized and curious, and Lucy, Flynn and Wyatt had done their best to keep her entertained with cartoons and coloring and paper airplanes, but had drawn the line at hide-and-go-seek. In the interim, Flynn had cornered Wyatt to ask if he'd secured his weapon, what with their being a child in the bunker, and the shorter man had given him that mutinous, icy blue glare and assured Flynn he wasn't an amateur. Still, not long after, Wyatt had left the common area, returning a few minutes later looking purposefully nonchalant.
When Agent Christopher walked in the room, they were all seated to dinner – an extremely rare occurrence – with the tables pushed together into one long row. Well, everyone except Jiya and Connor, the latter of whom had joined them for a few minutes, obviously curious about their temporary roommates, before he was called away again by Jiya. He'd taken his plate with him, though Flynn doubted he'd get a bite in.
"Good, you're all here," she said, before spotting Frankie, whose large, dark-blue eyes gazed up at her while she nibbled on a piece of garlic toast too big for her face. Agent Christopher softened. "Ah, hello there. I see we have a dinner guest," she greeted warmly, approaching the table. "My name is Denise, what's yours?" She knew, of course, but she wanted the little girl to feel comfortable, welcome.
"Frankie Patricia Oliver," she said, setting aside the garlic toast, "But when my mom's mad she calls me Francesca." The table, having heard this spiel already, chuckled. Earlier, they'd all barely contained their laughter, not wanting to hurt the little girl's feelings as she'd said it with all seriousness. To be fair, not one of them could think of a better description for one's given name than their 'gettin-yelled-at' name. Agent Christopher wasn't so controlled this time and burst out laughing. It was strange seeing their always-composed boss laugh like this, but for everyone at the table except Lucy, it was also strange to see this soft, familial side of her.
"It's very nice to meet you, Frankie," Christopher smiled, then returned her attention to the gathered team, sobering up. "When you're finished, could you bring Frankie to see her mom – she's in Flynn's bunk. Then, Lucy, gather everyone, here – everyone." She looked purposefully beyond them to the control pad and lifeboat where Jiya and Connor were working in dead silence. "I need to discuss something with you."
"She's not Rittenhouse," Christoper confirmed, and Flynn didn't know until now how worried he'd really been until he felt a profound lightening in his chest. He'd doubted himself enough over the last four years, and his mis-read of Emma may have weighed on him more than he cared to admit. "We're still waiting on some deep-dive searches of her background, but I'm confident they'll come up clean."
"That's good," Lucy said, and Flynn could tell by her tone that, despite his warning, some small part of her held out hope this news meant Roxanne would be staying. That she might have a chance to foster a new friendship.
"Yes, it's very good," Christopher agreed, "But there's more. Roxanne Oliver was most recently a victim advocate in Washington D.C., and before that, she completed police academy training in Louisiana and served with the Shreveport police department for little over a year. But, out of high school, she was an ROTC student and later served in the army… as a combat trauma nurse." The room was silent, stunned as they processed the news. Flynn caught on in half a beat.
"No," he said simply.
"We have to consider it," Christopher said, and as Flynn shook his head and opened his mouth, she cut him off. "We have been looking for a qualified trauma nurse for eight months. The few candidates who got clearance, you all decided against because they had families, because you wouldn't risk Rittenhouse destroying their lives. Now, I admire that, and I agree with you, but…"
"She has a family," Flynn interjected, standing up from leaning casually against the back of the couch. "She and her little girl deserve a normal life." It was the second time he'd had to say it today, and he felt a little like he was simultaneously going mad and the only sane person in the room.
"They're not going to have one," Christopher insisted, and the matter-of-fact way she said it silenced Flynn's protest. Christopher took a breath before continuing. "I put surveillance on her apartment, a couple of men I trust. The police detective overseeing the investigation of the shooting is confirmed Rittenhouse. She killed a skilled operative, Flynn, she's already a target."
"And they'll want Frankie," Lucy said quietly, staring at an indeterminate point on the floor, "If her father was Rittenhouse, then Rittenhouse will want to keep her – in the family."
"That's what I suspect," Christopher said, "It's most likely what Charles Tyson was tailing her for to begin with. He couldn't just kill them both."
"Can she help Rufus?" Jiya asked, and the room turned to her. Suddenly alert and engaged after months of being, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, Jiya was looking at Agent Christopher with unabashed hope.
"Maybe," Christopher said, "She did serve one tour in Afghanistan in 2003 before her discharge. Some of her military records are sealed and I'm having a hell of a time getting access. That's what I'm waiting on, to confirm her story, but honestly I believe her."
"What was it?" Wyatt asked, wary of any potential red flags in her record or the conditions of her discharge.
"I can't tell you that," Christopher said, "All I can tell you is she received an honorable discharge and the circumstances in question are of no concern to the team if true. What I can verify is that she was a good nurse. Good marks at university and a better-than-average survival rate among her patients."
"So, what, we're going to force her into this fight she didn't ask for?" Flynn challenged, stepping closer to Christopher, looming over her and crossing his arms.
"No, Flynn, we're going to ask her," Agent Christopher replied, meeting his intimidation with the same steel and resolve she always did. She turned to the team. "Listen, I agree the bunker isn't a good long-term solution. I am working on a plan to get her into hiding permanently, but, frankly, I don't have the training or the resources. Homeland Security doesn't handle witness relocations, we don't have the protocols and I'm learning it all from scratch. My best guess, we'll have to relocate her out of the country, and that requires international agreements even WITSEC doesn't have. In short, this is going to take awhile."
"Why don't we just hide her in time?" Connor volunteered, brightly.
"From an organization that also has a time machine?" Flynn pointed out, "And, I'm sorry, please tell me what prior point in American history, in any history, was a great time for a girl to grow up in? For a single mother to survive?"
"I was just helping," Connor snapped back.
"Oh, yes you're such a great help," Flynn derided.
"Guys!" Lucy shouted, "Enough." She glanced between the two men, whiskey-brown eyes brooking no arguments. Flynn felt properly chastised and raised his hands in surrender, backing up to lean against the couch once more.
"If there's any chance she can help, I want her here," Jiya said.
"I know, Jiya, but this has to be a team vote – and it has to be unanimous – whether we tell her about all this and ask her to lead the rescue mission. We'll be revealing everything – the time machine, Rittenhouse, the history of the team…" Christopher glanced momentarily at Flynn, "All of it. She has the right to an informed decision, but just asking for her help gives her information that makes her an even greater threat to Rittenhouse." Everyone in the room was somber, even Jiya who'd thrown all of her time and energy into getting Rufus back. Lucy and Wyatt were looking at one another, only a foot apart, questioning each other silently. Flynn was staring at the toe of his boot, working his jaw in frustration.
"We have to try," Wyatt said, breaking the silence. "There's no guarantee she'll agree, but… this is our best shot."
"You already have my vote," Jiya said, but this time it was clear she understood the weight of her decision, "I say we ask."
"I never wanted to pull another person into this, this…" Connor mused, "But for Rufus, I agree we have to try." That was three, and Agent Christopher glanced between Lucy, pensive and aware of her status as de facto team leader, and Flynn, glaring daggers at the rest of the team. Finally, Lucy broke the silence, looking directly at Flynn.
"Like Christopher said, she's already on their radar," Lucy began, "She needs us, just as much as we need her. If she's going to be chased by these bastards the rest of her life, she deserves the option to fight back." Flynn returned her steady gaze, more torn over this vote than he'd been about any of the monstrous things he'd done in recent memory.
"What will you do if she says 'no?'" Flynn asked, speaking to Agent Christopher but not turning away from Lucy.
"For now, I take her to an alternate black site. I have a location in mind – they can stay there until I secure safe transport… elsewhere." Christopher's answer was hardly reassuring. She may have managed to keep this place a secret, to keep the Rittenhouse elements within HSA in the dark, but when it came down to it, he didn't trust another facility – other men – to protect them. Still, condemning them to this life left a sour taste in his mouth.
She deserves the option to fight back – Lucy's words echoed in his head. Flynn closed his eyes.
"Ask her."
Liability – Lorde
They say, "You're a little much for me
You're a liability
You're a little much for me"
So they pull back, make other plans
I understand, I'm a liability
Get you wild, make you leave
I'm a little much for everyone