Chapter 3

Standing in the doorway of the large, expensively-equipped fitness room at Mason Industries, Wyatt silently watched with ill-disguised interest as the young woman tried her best to decimate the stubbornly unyielding punching bag. He couldn't explain it, and while he really did still care for and miss his ex-wife, there was just something about FBI Special Agent Lucy Preston that intrigued him. Wyatt admired her lithe, toned form in snug black leggings and cropped tank top, very slender but gently curved in all the appropriate places, as she alternated between quick, lethal jabs and long-legged kicks in an apparent effort to work through whatever was bothering her. And, he thought ruefully, that might just be a pretty long list, starting with the whole "time travel is real" mission they had returned from just hours ago.

After Lucy had dropped him off at his apartment and driven away, Wyatt had barely gotten inside and locked the door behind him when his phone rang with an unknown number. It had been Denise Christopher, tersely informing him that Flynn had taken the mothership out again, and right before ending the call, she thoughtfully added that it might be a good idea to keep some extra clothes in a locker at Mason for this very contingency. Wyatt sighed in resignation, and assured the agent he would be there in twenty. After taking a few extra minutes to pack a duffle bag, he had hurried back to the facility, filled with an odd mix of anticipation and muted dread.

Sitting around the conference room table moments later during the hastily-assembled briefing, the team was furnished with scant details about the new mission beyond the date and place. Without thinking, Wyatt had exclaimed, "That has to be the assassination of Abraham Lincoln," and his face began to warm when he realized every eye in the room was now trained on him. Across the table, Lucy looked troubled as he began to tentatively posit several possible outcomes, none good, if Garcia Flynn was able to interfere with or prevent the death of the sixteenth President. After discussing several strategies, they were dismissed, with Connor Mason reminding everyone that the lifeboat would take at least four hours to recharge, and since it had only been a little over an hour since they had returned from the first mission, that meant the three of them had some time to kill. Wyatt noticed Rufus quickly followed his boss from the room, probably eager to get back in front of a computer, even for only a little while, and turned around to see an unhappy Lucy huddled with a stern Denise Christopher at the other end of the table for a brief, tense conversation before the younger woman abruptly walked out. He raised a dark eyebrow at the NSA agent, who shook her head before mentioning that if he was interested, Connor Mason had informed her that Mason Industries had a big, state-of-the-art fitness area for its employees.

Luckily, he had packed something half-way suitable for a workout, and after quickly changing, found his way to the fitness room where he now stood, vaguely unwilling to disturb a clearly focused Lucy until she stopped suddenly, panting lightly before swiping at her moist forehead and pushing back a few wayward strands of dark wavy hair that had slipped loose from her topknot. "Are you going to just stand there gawking at me, or are you coming inside?" she demanded in a querulous voice, finally turning annoyed doe eyes on him. Wyatt blushed slightly at being caught staring at her, and clearing his throat awkwardly, offered, "Uh, coming inside? To work out, I mean," and felt better when Lucy decided to take pity on him, and merely shrugged at his lame indecision before leaning down and snagging a bottle of water and downing half of it. He watched in fascination as a couple droplets of water escaped her mouth and slowly traced a path down her long, elegant neck. "Again with the gawking there, Dr. Logan," she lightly scolded, and after she set down the water and scrubbed at her face with a small towel, looked him over, and apparently came to a decision.

"You look to be in pretty good shape, Professor, what say we spar a few rounds? You up for it?" and smirked knowingly when Wyatt finally found his mojo and responded, "I think you'll find I'm always up for it, Agent," and Lucy's dark eyes lit up at the challenge. "Let's do this, then," and for the next thirty minutes, he and the surprisingly agile FBI agent ducked, feinted, and grappled until finally, both were lying side by side on their backs, chests heaving, trying to catch their breath. Wyatt grudgingly marveled that although he must outweigh Lucy by at least 60 pounds or more, she fiercely gave no quarter, and it took everything he had just to keep from being knocked on his ass. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, cleansing breath, and said, "Listen, I know it's none of my business, and we just met a day ago, but it seems like you've got something on your mind. And, if you want to talk about it, that's okay with me."

Lucy sighed deeply, and rolling over, sat up, and putting her hands over her eyes, mumbled something indecipherable. Wyatt's brows drew together as he opened his eyes and also sat up, leaning towards Lucy as he asked in his best teacher's voice, "Can you repeat that please, Agent Preston? You were mumbling," and bit back a grin when she took her hands from her face and scowled blackly at him. "I said, this is all my fault," she confessed before suddenly developing a keen interest in her shoelaces. Taken aback by her statement, after a moment, Wyatt responded dryly, "I'm afraid I don't follow. How in the world is an ex-NSA psycho running amuck through history with some crazy mysterious agenda, killing indiscriminately I might add, your fault?" And likely risking possible physical injury, he gently rested a warm hand on her arm and waited until she met his eyes.

"Wyatt, I was standing two feet away from Garcia Flynn with a loaded gun in my coat pocket, and instead of putting him down like a rabid dog, or at the very least, somehow taking him into custody, or hell, really just anything to stop him, I completely ignored my FBI training and experience, and let my brain slip into profiling mode." She laughed bitterly, "If any of my T.I.'s at Quantico had seen me pull a stunt like that, they would have kicked my ass into next week. Thank God Agent Christopher insisted on loaning you one of her service weapons, or he could have killed me and possibly you and Rufus," and Wyatt was bothered by the self doubt he saw haunting her eyes.

He inhaled slowly and took a chance with this woman he'd known for less than two days. "Was this what you were discussing with Agent Christopher after the meeting? Is that what this is about? Lucy, all due respect, she wasn't there, and has no idea what it was like for the three of us. Here's the thing, over the years, I've read several accounts of the Hindenburg tragedy, and nothing could have prepared us for what it was actually like to experience something like that first hand." Confident now that he had her undivided attention, Wyatt continued earnestly, "Lucy, even if we remove the whole 'going back in time 80 years' mind bender from the equation, the actual crash itself was horrific and frightening, and I think you handled yourself pretty damn well." He was pleased at the shy smile Lucy gave him before she quietly murmured, "Thank you, Professor, I feel a little better now," and now she was the one blushing at the intent way he was gazing at her.

Springing gracefully to her feet, Lucy stretched (her stomach fluttering at the way Wyatt's dark blue eyes very discreetly ran up and down her body) and groaning slightly as she rolled her neck, remarked, "Well, if we're headed for 1865, there's probably a damned corset and hooped skirt waiting for me in the women's locker room," and offering him a hand, easily pulled Wyatt to his feet and teased, "Save me a seat, would you, Professor, if you're ready before me," and snickered when he solemnly put a hand over his heart and swore he would. Wyatt didn't even try to hide the fact that he was watching Lucy walk away, and he thought (hoped) she wasn't too offended, especially when she paused in the doorway, and glancing over her shoulder at him, merely asked, "You coming, Dr. Logan?" and Wyatt obediently followed the pretty agent to the locker rooms.

Wyatt emerged from a quick shower a little while later to find a pensive Rufus sitting on a bench dressed in what looked like a Civil War uniform before noticing another uniform hanging on his locker. "Hey, Rufus, how's it going?" he asked the pilot, who turned his back respectfully as Wyatt dropped the towel around his waist and after pulling on a pair of his own boxer briefs, began to dress in the itchy wool costume, wrinkling his nose at musty smell seeping from the material. "Ugh, where did they find these uniforms? They smell like an old leaky basement," he complained as Rufus nodded glumly in agreement, "I think from some local Civil War reenacter group," and grinned when Wyatt snarked that he thought the uniforms reeked of sweat and loneliness. Grimacing as he threw the discolored, long-sleeved, linen blouse over his head before buttoning up the navy wool jacket, he sat down to put on his own boots (no way in hell he was wearing someone else's boots).

Finally dressed, Wyatt looked over at Rufus and asked, "Hey, are you okay?" The pilot shrugged and replied, "No, not really, because I can't help but think about the possibility of Flynn or one of us changing something in the past, even accidentally, where we might come back to a different present, but what can we do about it? I don't want to come back and not have my mom or little brother. Not to mention the fact that things got a little physical on our first mission, which is not great for me because between your time in the Army and Lucy being an FBI agent, at least the two of you have some training and experience with self-defense and guns and stuff, but me, I'm just a lonely computer nerd who's gotten roped into risking my life God knows how often or for how long in other time periods." He sighed, "So, Wyatt, I guess I'm not okay, but thanks for letting me vent," and looked at Wyatt doubtfully when his takeaway from Rufus' response was, "What, decent guy like you with a great job, and you don't have a girlfriend?"

Clearing his throat loudly, Rufus admitted there was this one co-worker here at Mason that he really liked, although he hadn't gotten up the courage yet to speak more than a few words to her. Wyatt paused for a moment, and then his face lit up with comprehension as he asked, "Let me guess, is she the very pretty girl with the big brown eyes and long dark hair? Sits at one of the computers out by the platform? What was her name again, Leah?" and smirked when Rufus instantly corrected him, "Jiya...her name is Jiya, and I think maybe, she might like me too, 'cause she smiles at me sometimes, but what if I'm wrong, and she's not really interested, and I come off as some kind of creepy dude who can't take a hint..." and at the other man's genuine distress, Wyatt relented, and suggested, "Why don't you just take it slow? You probably heard me tell Lucy that I'm divorced, so, yeah, I guess I'm no expert at women or anything, but, hey, I was married for over seven years. So, here's my unsolicited advice: the next time you see this Jiya, just smile and say, 'hi, how's it going?' and just kind of build on her response. And be sure to make eye contact 'cause women really seem to like that in a guy," and standing up, clapped Rufus on the back and said cheerfully, "Okay, Romeo, we better get out there before Agent Preston gets her hoop skirt in a bunch," and both men chuckled at the thought. As they walked out of the locker room, it occurred to a bemused Wyatt that maybe in addition to team historian and security backup, he could also now be considered team counselor?

In spite of his prediction, he and Rufus were already inside the lifeboat, chatting casually while Rufus began flipping a multitude of switches to start the departure process, when he heard Lucy's voice call to him from outside the hatch, "Wyatt, can you give me a hand?" and sticking his head out the open hatch, fought to suppress his amusement at the sight of the disgruntled agent who was indeed wearing a hooped skirt, most definitely a corset, and, wait, was that a bonnet on her head? Judging by the irate glare she directed at him, he wasn't entirely successful. "Dr. Logan, if you are in any way, shape, or form entertained by my costume, we are going to have words, do you hear me?" and Wyatt hastily replied respectfully, "Yes, Ma'am," before manfully wiping any trace of emotion from his face, and extending his hand, attempted to pull Lucy and her voluminous skirt through the hatch.

He might have been a little too forceful, though, when her momentum pushed Wyatt clear back into his seat with a blushing, wide-eyed Lucy practically laying on top of him while Rufus choked on a snort. As she breathlessly apologized, Wyatt grinned, and assured her it was fine, no harm, no foul, and keeping his thoughts to himself (damn, she smelled really good, and actually looks pretty cute in that bonnet), helped Lucy get settled in her seat before instinctively reaching over and buckling her safety harness. He couldn't help but notice that her slim fingers, wearing lacy little fingerless gloves, twitched nervously, and without a word, reached across and took one of her small hands in his just as Rufus hit the last button.

Trying to slow down her breathing (stupid corset), Lucy watched as his strong hands deftly secured her safety restraints. She despised her claustrophobia, had always shamefully viewed it somehow as a hidden character flaw, but in this case, had to admit that she secretly liked the feel of the professor's large hand holding firmly onto hers. Wyatt Logan really seemed to be a genuinely nice man, very intelligent, with a good sense of humor, and pretty damn easy on the eyes, too (His ex-wife must be crazy to walk away from a guy like him). Aware of an inherent vulnerability as one of few women in her field of expertise, since becoming an FBI Special Agent, Lucy had made it a hard and fast rule never to date a co-worker.

While at the Academy, she had heard plenty of horror stories about fellow agents dating each other, and then when the relationship fell apart (and they always fell apart), how excruciatingly awkward it was to still have to work with the other person. Truth be told, Lucy rarely dated. For one thing, her career kept her pretty busy working long hours, including most weekends and holidays, and for another, as soon as a guy found out what she did for a living, she usually got one of two common reactions: either disgust towards a job that often had her trying to get inside the head of mentally deranged individuals, or even worse, someone who got off on it (Ewww). But, thankfully, she sensed Dr. Logan, with his Army service and experience, had possibly seen and done some pretty horrific things himself, and therefore, might actually understand a little about Lucy's career. Of course, she just met him, and by his own admission, he was newly divorced, not to mention that this was undoubtedly a bizarre set of circumstances they had gotten involved in. But so far, the more time she spent with the professor, the better she liked him. And then her mind went mercifully blank as the lifeboat roared to life and jumped back to 1865.

The lifeboat's giant metal rings whined in protest as they slowly came to a stop after another (successful) heavy landing. Inside, Wyatt inhaled slowly and unsnapping his safety restraint, swallowed hard in an attempt to keep from losing the granola bar and apple he had gulped down while he and Rufus were waiting for Lucy to finish dressing, and whispered to no one in particular, "Someone please tell me this feeling gets better in time." Lucy opened one eye blearily, and grumbled, "At least both of you can take a deep breath because you're not wearing a corset," and her cheeks pinked becomingly when she noticed that Wyatt's gaze involuntarily dropped to her chest before he averted his gaze and reached over to quickly unbuckle her safety harness. Rufus shook his head in resignation and said, "Nope, pretty sure it's always gonna be like that," and smacking the button to open the hatch, turned around and asked, "What is that?" and the other two leaned out of their seats and watched the late night sky explode in a profusion of bright, shimmering streaks of color.

"It's fireworks. Washington, D.C., is celebrating the end of the Civil War," Wyatt explained. "The festivities went on day and night for several days after Robert E. Lee surrendered, at least until the President was assassinated..." and his voice trailed off sadly as the others looked at him. Lucy patted his arm sympathetically and said, "Guys, we better get going. It's probably a couple of hours yet before dawn, but we have a ways to walk, and I'd like to get into town by daylight," and the two men nodded in agreement. As they trudged along the dusty, rutted road, they were passed by horse-drawn wagons and carriages and numerous riders on horseback. Wyatt's feelings were all over the place. On the one hand, the team had jumped back in time even farther for this second mission, over 150 years, and it was every bit as exciting as the first time. However, he knew that as horrendous as it was to contemplate, Abraham Lincoln was destined to die that evening, and he had a sinking feeling that the other two, especially Rufus, might be harboring a secret desire to save the doomed President. Wyatt could tell they were unhappy with his admonishment that in light of the possible ramifications, nothing could interfere with the natural progression of history, but they reluctantly agreed with him.

As they finally reached the outskirts of D.C., Lucy asked, "Wyatt, what do you suggest?" effectively interrupting his musings, and after he remembered it was said that John Wilkes Booth retrieved his mail from Ford's theater every morning at 10:00, Lucy theorized it was likely that if they found Booth, Flynn might possibly be with him, so she and Wyatt would wait at the theater in hopes of intercepting the actor while Rufus kept watch across the street. After entering the theater, the two of them split up, and Wyatt offered to check out the back stage area while she would wait in the front near the mail cubbies to see if Booth would indeed show up. Lucy quickly found the actor's name under one of the slots, and hastily rifled through the envelopes, but found nothing of interest. Hearing footsteps, she stuffed the mail back onto the shelf just in time to see a very tall, distinguished young man wearing a Union Army uniform enter the front office. After a brief conversation, she was shocked when the man introduced himself as Robert Todd Lincoln, the President's son. Lucy felt burdened down by the knowledge that in a matter of hours, not only would the United States lose their leader, this man would lose his beloved father. However, she remembered Wyatt's warning, and after exchanging pleasantries, Lucy bid Captain Lincoln a good day and went in search of Wyatt.

He was waiting impatiently for her at the theater entrance, and after they met up with Rufus, Wyatt had caught sight of Booth, and the team quickly followed the actor/would-be assassin down the street and into a narrow alley. They crept along, when suddenly, Lucy caught a glimpse of Flynn walking past an open window in a nearby boarding house. Unfortunately, before they could duck out of sight, the terrorist spotted them and began shooting into the alley. Lucy and Wyatt both quickly pulled out their guns and immediately started firing back while urging Rufus to take shelter in a doorway. Wyatt was horrified to see Lucy creeping closer and closer to the building, and hissed, "Lucy, get back here, you're too close," and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flynn take careful aim in her direction, and instinctively lunged towards her, throwing her down on the ground and landing on top of her as a bright, searing pain flashed and burned across his side. With a grunt of pain, Wyatt dropped all the way down, covering her body, as he held his side with one hand and bravely returned fire with the other. Underneath him, Lucy screamed, "Wyatt! Are you all right? Are you hit?" And then without waiting for his reply, she scrambled out from under him, grabbed the gun from his suddenly limp fingers and began firing both of their weapons one after the other, while yelling at Rufus to help Wyatt get up while she covered them.

A few agonizing minutes later, Wyatt managed to stay calm and upright long enough for he and Lucy to check into a hotel (as brother and sister) while, at Lucy's direction, Rufus went to retrieve first aid supplies. Lucy generously tipped the bell hop who escorted them to a room, and swiftly closed the door before the young man could ask too many questions. Wyatt collapsed on the one of the beds as Lucy helped him remove his uniform jacket, and she tried not to flinch at the bright red circle of blood blooming on his linen shirt. Coaxing him to raise his arms, she eased the ruined shirt up and over his head, whispering an apology when he groaned at the effort. Wyatt carefully stretched out on the bed, grateful for Lucy's assistance (Jesus, I had forgotten just how much getting shot hurts) before he managed to pull a pocketknife out of his pants and hand it to her. Just then Rufus rushed into the room, his arm full of the supplies. His eyes widened in shock at the raw, bloody hole in Wyatt's side, and he glanced away before cautiously setting everything down on the dresser and asking Lucy what she needed him to do.

With gentle fingers, Lucy delicately examined the wounded area on Wyatt's torso, murmuring another apology when he unwillingly groaned. "The bullet is just below the surface and has to come out or he could die from sepsis before we make it home," she grimly pronounced, and Rufus nodded stoically when Lucy requested that he hold Wyatt down while she removed the bullet. Wyatt was starting to get dizzy from the pain and blood loss, and slurring his words slightly, entreated, "I'll be good, Agent Lucy, please don't make Rufus hold me down," and the distress on his face nearly broke her heart. Smoothing the rumpled hair back from his sweaty forehead, Lucy urged Wyatt to swallow a few gulps of the whiskey Rufus had procured. His dark blue eyes were starting to glaze over, and he eagerly drank the alcohol in hopes it would dull what was sure to be agonizing pain, no matter how carefully Lucy worked to remove the bullet.

Once his panicked breathing slowed and he began to quiet, Lucy moved over to the dresser and washed her hands carefully in the basin of water while Rufus poured whiskey over the pocketknife to crudely sterilize it. Although she was well-trained in first aid, especially triage, and re-certified on an annual basis, this was the real deal, and despite her best efforts, Lucy's hands shook slightly as she painstakingly probed Wyatt's damaged flesh for the bullet. He bravely endured the pain in silence, but once she was able to locate and extract the bullet, Wyatt's eyes rolled back in his head and he mercifully passed out. A grateful Lucy liberally splashed the remainder of the whisky in and around the wound before closing it with small, precise stitches. While Rufus gathered up the supplies and put them on the dresser, she managed to clean all the blood from his body and tuck Wyatt under the covers with a cool cloth on his forehead before sinking into a chair in a corner of the room, and putting her head in her hands, Lucy wept quietly in relief.

The mid-afternoon sun was lazily streaming through the windows when Wyatt opened his eyes. He moved without thinking, and winced at the sharp pain that throbbed in his side. At his involuntary gasp, Lucy turned from the window and sitting on the side of the bed, put a soft hand on his cheek and asked him how he felt (much better when you're touching me), and he answered in a gravelly voice that he was fine and was somewhat put out at the definitely skeptical expression on her face. "Well, I feel better than I did a few hours ago," he retorted rather petulantly, and Wyatt could see her trying not to smile at his pissy response. In a weak attempt to divert her attention from his condition, he asked, "What's the plan, Agent?" and was relieved when Lucy began to fill him in on what she and Rufus had come up with. It could work, he thought, he just wished he wasn't injured, but it couldn't be helped. The team needed all hands on deck if they had even a hope of thwarting Flynn's plans.

Lucy left Wyatt in Rufus' capable hands and made her way to the train station. Wyatt had told her that General Grant was supposed to be on the evening train to Philadelphia, and if possible, she wanted to find out if he had purchased a ticket or not. Surprisingly, she ran into Robert Todd Lincoln, and was taken aback when he impulsively invited her to the theater this evening with his parents, and (unfortunately) General Grant and his wife. Lucy's mind raced as she gazed up at the young Captain, and quickly coming to the conclusion this might be her only chance to save the General, she agreed. After he gallantly kissed her hand, he bid Lucy farewell with a promise to pick her up at the hotel at 7:00. Absently thinking she would have to find a proper evening dress to wear to the theater, Lucy was startled when a handsomely-dressed Garcia Flynn sprang at her from a deserted corner of the train station. She instinctively reached for her service weapon, and was dismayed to realize she had left it on the dresser at the hotel.

He grabbed her wrist roughly, and mockingly advised, "Agent Preston, you really need to stay out of my way. How's Dr. Logan? Did you manage to dig my bullet out of his gut? The bullet that was meant for you, I might add," and Lucy struggled to free herself without drawing attention to them. Who knew how many innocents Flynn would kill if someone dared and try to help her. "You bastard," she snarled at him, and was shocked when he laughed. "If you and your fellow time travelers want to stay alive, you need to stop interfering with my plans. I won't be generous enough to warn you again," and with that, he bowed courteously and walked away, leaving a puzzled and frustrated Lucy glaring after him.

By the time Lucy returned to the hotel room, it was already after 5:00. In addition to buying a dress, she had brought sandwiches and ale with her, and was pleased to see Wyatt sitting in a chair, pale, but composed. While they ate, Lucy told them about her encounter with Flynn, and felt the tiniest thrill at Wyatt's angry, protective reaction. "Lucy, what were you thinking? Rufus found your gun on the dresser, and you were accosted by Flynn in public while you were defenseless. He could have killed you," and Rufus raised his eyebrows at Wyatt's tone while Lucy apologized for worrying them. He sat sullenly, quietly eating a few bites of supper while she got dressed, fortunately without needing any help.

When Lucy came out from behind the dressing screen, Wyatt merely smiled at her appearance, although he thought she looked beautiful. For a woman born in the 20th century, Lucy was made for vintage clothing, and the evening gown was very flattering. There was a knock at the door from the bell hop announcing that Captain Lincoln was downstairs waiting. She anxiously smoothed down the full skirt, and after the trio confirmed their assignments, grabbed a delicate shawl and hurried from the room. The two men watched her leave, and when the pilot asked Wyatt if they had a snowball's chance in hell of pulling this off, he shrugged painfully, and confirmed that they had no choice, they had to succeed.

The next couple of hours passed in a daze for Lucy. She was nearly incoherent with conflicting emotions. It was all but overwhelming to be in the presence of President and Mrs. Lincoln, and General Ulysses S. Grant, but knowing what was to come was making her a nervous wreck. Finally, the door to the theater box opened, but instead of John Wilkes Booth, it was a hard-faced Flynn holding a gun. He looked surprised and very angry to see her, and as Lucy was struggling to pull her own weapon out of her small bag, after knocking young Captain Lincoln out cold, without hesitation, he aimed for and shot the great leader in the back of the head. Lucy screamed, and when Flynn pointed the gun at General Grant, she leaped at him and managed to shove his arm in the air, thereby saving Grant's life. After a brief scuffle, Flynn jumped out of the box down onto the stage and got away.

In the aftermath, Lucy was joined on the street in front of the theater by Rufus and a still pale Wyatt. They had been able to save the lives of Vice President Johnson and Secretary of State Seward, and once it was confirmed the President was dead, the three of them knew they had done all they possibly could, and wordlessly made the long trek back to the lifeboat. Grimacing in pain, Wyatt fastened Lucy's restraints in spite of her vehement protests before buckling himself in. During the jump, Wyatt came close to passing out, and once they landed and Rufus quickly opened the hatch, he practically fell from the lifeboat while Lucy yelled for a medic. Despite Agent Christopher's request for a mission report, she insisted on accompanying him to the medical wing, and once she knew he would be all right, left him sleeping while she changed out of her blood-stained dress and took a hot shower. When she went to check on Wyatt, Lucy found Rufus asleep in a chair beside the bed. Pausing in the doorway, she smiled for the first time all day. The doctor had assured her that Wyatt would make a full recovery and complimented her on the condition of his wound, and looking at the two men sleeping, she thought with satisfaction, they were her teammates, and just maybe, her new friends.

A/N: This story theme has been really challenging so far, but also a lot of fun to write. Special thanks to Pecos Bill for your review (I tried to make Lucy a little bit of a bad ass in this chapter, lol). My sincere thanks to everyone who's following and favoriting this and all of my fics, especially those of you who are kind enough to leave a review. It's much appreciated! :)