Alternate Lives
Summary: Whether by choice or by fate, Lucy and Wyatt always find each other, no matter the timeline.
Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless or any other original work (TV, film, book or other) referenced or quoted in these one shots.
Pairing: Wyatt/Lucy, some Jiya/Rufus
Rated: M
Warnings & Disclaimer: Swearing, and adulterous themes, I suppose. I own neither Timeless nor the various references to or quotes from other fictional works.
A/N: What if Jessica had been alive during Timless?
Chapter 13: Red String of Fate
So she wasn't completely useless. Harsh as it was, that was what Wyatt was taking away about the ball of nerves history professor they'd saddled him with. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate why a historian was needed, or that he thought a man would have done better in her position, but couldn't the FBI have found someone less tightly wound than Dr Lucy Preston. Then again if he had managed to hit Flynn correctly or gone after him when he fled the scene wounded, this whole mess might have been resolved already. And at least Preston had managed to get the air field crew to search for Flynn when he couldn't even get their attention. It didn't help at all that she was following him with an expression that said they needed to talk.
Wyatt quickened his steps to get out of Mason's thrice-accursed building, and he had never been so relieved by a bout of fresh air. Unfortunately, Dr Preston was right behind him. He didn't turn around, but she either didn't get the message or she wouldn't let him get away, because as soon as she vacated the threshold, she called out to him. For a brief second, he considered ignoring her, but they'd have to keep working together and their working relationship was tenuous at best. Plus, Wyatt reminded himself, she was a civilian who'd just gone through - well, he didn't know how to classify their wacky situation, but it was likely even more jarring for her than it already was for him. So, ultimately, he didn't turn around, but slowed his steps and let her catch up with him. He felt the weight of her stare on him. She remained silent until he turned to look at her, though. Good interrogation tactic. He wondered if she used it on her students.
"When you shot Flynn, a couple of inches to the right and you would have blown my brains out… Are you just that good or was I just that expendable?"
He took in a quick, annoyed breath. Her tone wasn't really accusatory, but he could tell she wasn't happy with him. She wanted to know where she stood and whether she could trust him to have her back, and he couldn't fault her for that. However, Wyatt was beyond pissed at this entire situation, and something in him was still itching for a fight after the events of the day. So, if she wanted a confrontation, she could have one.
"Well, I guess I'm just that good… ma'am," he responded, deliberately pushing her buttons. He knew he succeeded when she let out a huff. She opened her mouth to say more when an arriving car interrupted them. A smile stole it's way onto his face immediately when he saw the driver open the door and stand to look over the roof. Her blond hair was a mess and she hadn't yet changed from work, but her smile lit up the night for him.
"Wyatt!" Jessica called out. "Sorry I'm late. Jerry wanted me to double count the day's earnings. I hope you didn't have to wait too long."
"No, don't worry, I just got out of debrief." Without another glance at Dr Preston, he headed off in Jess' direction. It was time to go home.
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The early morning sun tickled her nose, the light dancing even behind her closed eyelids. Thus forced to moved, Jessica extended a hand behind her, almost surprised when she found another lump in their bed. She turned around a little surprised. Not only was her husband usually up much earlier than this, he was also normally-
"Don't look so surprised," Wyatt teased. "Or were you expecting someone else?"
"Hmm hmm," she muttered back with a lazy smile. "David from the Postal Office should come by any minute."
"Really, Jess, the postman? If you're ever going to cheat on me, at least be a little more creative," Wyatt harrumphed good-naturedly, then moved closer to nuzzle her cheek and land a kiss on her throat.
"I'll try to find the most unlikely lover. Perhaps a gardener…"
"How is that unlikely?"
"We don't have a garden."
Her soldier chuckled.
"Touché."
"Seriously, though, it's weird having you here. Normally you're at Pendleton during the week and now you've been here the third day in a row… Not that I don't appreciate seeing more of my handsome husband, but… it's still very… new."
"D'you want me to go?" He mumbled, half back to a sleepy haze with his head on her shoulder and his arm around her middle. "Make myself scarce during the day? Sleep on a park bench or at work?"
"Don't you dare!" Jess admonished him with a quick tickle to his sensitive hip. Wyatt almost jumped out of the bed, but two could play that game. He set out to retaliate immediately, and had her squealing in no time. Jess' giggled pleas for mercy almost drowned out the ring of his cell phone. The couple sobered up immediately as there could only be one reason someone would call Wyatt at - a quick glance at the clock - a quarter to six in the morning.
"Work," they said in unison.
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(1962)
Having just saved Judith Campbell from an untimely death, he still couldn't relax. For starters, they were far from out of danger. Adding to that, that they were in Atomic City, where an atomic test had just been done that very morning, and chasing Flynn while he was chasing an atomic bomb for God only knew what perfidious reason, and Wyatt's mood was well and truly sour the entire trip so far. His team had been at the receiving end of it more than once. Especially Lucy, who was dressed in less than she - or Wyatt- were comfortable with. Wyatt mentally cursed himself. He wasn't stupid. He knew Lucy Preston was one amazingly beautiful woman, and he also knew that it was perfectly normal to notice. Even if he was married.
Jess noticed attractive men too, he knew, albeit mostly actors on the silver screen, but there had been the odd appreciative look at a passing jogger or so. He'd always taken it in stride. They were married, not dead, and the only thing that mattered was that they were only really interested in one another. So there was nothing wrong with noticing. He knew all that. It didn't help, however, that Lucy was his coworker. Someone he would have to see and be in contact with repeatedly, unlike Jess' joggers.
He also felt he was unduly distracted by the pretty historian, because it wasn't just her state of undress. In 1865 she had been more completely covered by the dress she'd chosen for her date with Lincoln Junior than by anything she'd ever worn in present day, and he'd still found her unnecessarily pretty, though with another furtive glance at her while he checked the room, he figured that were the close quarters talking. He took a steadying breath, and made his way to the door to escape while Rufus and Lucy questioned Campbell. Lest he did tie the haughty woman up after all. Before he could make it outside though, he heard Kennedy's mistress speak with Lucy.
"So, you and Brooding Blue Eyes… Are you sleeping with him?"
"What?" Lucy asked back. "Uh, no."
"Pity, I think he could use it. He's wound pretty tight."
Wyatt turned around angrily.
"I'm married," Wyatt protested.
"Never stopped a man before in my experience," Judith deadpanned. "And don't forget we've been in this room for a while. We've all seen you look."
While Rufus was trying to make his excuses to leave the awkward situation and Lucy was too stunned to say anything, Wyatt had crossed the room to Campbell in three steps and hovered over her. Judging by the expression on his face, he was downright seething at the insinuations.
"Listen, I don't know what kind of impression you get from Kennedy and the mob boss and whatever other boy toys you are currently juggling, but some of us value faithfulness," the soldier grit out through his teeth.
Maybe that was part of the reason the mission deteriorated from there. After Campbell's accusation, Wyatt was relieved to have Lucy disagree with him on his plan to use the insufferable mistress as bait. Something to fight about. To remind himself that they were only talking at all due to work, and otherwise wouldn't even waste a glance on the other. So he was perhaps unnecessarily harsh in his confrontation with her, pushing and challenging, even smirking down his nose at her as he told her to try and stop him.
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(Present)
That night, while washing the dishes, he thought back on the whole thing with more distance and not a little regret. A team couldn't work if two thirds of it were constantly at each others throats, and it wasn't Lucy's fault that she was pretty. Or that he clearly hadn't been spending enough time with Jess in the last two years at Pendleton not to notice. They needed to make amends somehow and find a common ground on which to work with each other. Rufus, too. Their team dynamic had to settle, and he wondered if some trust-building activity might be sensible in their case. Even just spending a little down time together could build bonds between them that would make them stronger as a team. So that the Judith Campbell disaster didn't repeat itself. He absentmindedly handed Jess a rinsed plate for her to dry.
"Where are you tonight, Wy?"
"Huh," he startled a little at her voice. When he noticed her curious, slightly worried glance, he sighed softly. "Sorry, Jess, I guess work came home with me."
"Something bad happen?"
"Yeah. Yeah, you could say that." An atomic bomb in the hands of a madman who wanted to kill America in the crib counted as bad, alright. "Sorry, you know I can't talk about it."
"Married to a state secret, that's me," she joked, but there was a little bitterness in her voice that made Wyatt want to sigh again. This time in exasperation. It wasn't the firs time this argument came up, wouldn't be the last time either. He even understood her discomfort at not knowing what he did with his life, but she knew when he signed up for service, there would be things he couldn't tell her. Like being Delta. So, even though he understood, it was not a subject he liked broaching. "Sorry, just tired. I know you'll fix it."
She dried of the last piece of cutlery and kissed him on the cheek, smiling. When he moved to drain the dishwater, he noticed a wicked gleam in her eyes in his peripheral vision. Jess could change her moods like a chameleon its colors sometimes, and more often than not that involved teasing him somehow. So Wyatt was not completely unprepared for the ensuing naval battle she engaged him in over their sink. When they had tired themselves out laughing and splashing each other, the dishwater had gone everywhere except down the drain. Mostly, they were both soaked and dirty as he pointed out to her.
"Hmm, guess we'll have to shower." The glint in her eye never left.
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(1944)
He didn't know which one of them was more taken with the British spy, but for all his and Rufus fanboying, Wyatt almost thought it had to be their historian. Though she never flirted back - as far as he could tell - she had blushed and smiled under Fleming's constant attentions. It had started early, as soon as they had introduced themselves in fact. A kiss to her hand and a smoldering look up into her face as he was bent over her delicate skin and Lucy was at a loss for words. It didn't help that Rufus had to point it out to Wyatt at every opportunity either.
Still, the soldier also noticed that she looked jittery as fuck as she went to change into her uniform. So, after giving her enough time to change, he followed her to see if she was alright. Time to make those amends, he figured. She didn't respond, even when he knocked again. Wyatt quickly entered and saw her finishing up with her tie. It was too loose, as if she was afraid it might suffocate her if she put it on correctly. Her hand was shaking where it rested on the counter, her head bowed. She hadn't noticed him.
"Hey."
That startled her back into an upright position.
"Don't you know how to knock?" She asked in a clipped tone. He supposed he couldn't expect any different, and at least this showed there was still fighting spirit in her.
"I did. Twice," he informed her somberly.
"Oh," she replied, turning around. "Good for you… Look, I don't wanna fight about von Braun."
"Fair. Let's talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Like you putting up a good front, but I've seen this before a thousand times with a thousand guys."
"Seen what?"
"New soldier in the field. You're freaking out," he told her bluntly. She finally approached him, ready for confrontation. That wasn't what he was looking for though, and her denial wouldn't help either. "Guys in your spot, they got two options. Get over the hump, or crack up."
There was a long, terse moment of silence while she kept her back to him. For a moment, Wyatt was sure she'd repeat her denial and sent him away, and he wondered what to do then. Perhaps she would talk to someone else. Prefer to talk to someone else after everything. To Rufus, or maybe, he thought while a stone sank into his stomach, to Flemming. Finally, she turned halfway around to face him, shaking her head as if trying to figure out what to do.
"How do you get… over the hump?"
"By talking about what's bothering you."
"You never talk," she pointed out immediately.
"I'm over the hump," he informed her, because this wasn't about him and he may want to help her, but to get closer. More personal. She huffed in response to his deadpan, annoyed. He wondered if she would back out. Talking was reciprocal. Maybe she didn't want to reveal so much about herself if it was all one-sided. She did turn around, though.
"I shouldn't even be here."
"Nazi Germany? Yeah, none of us should."
"No, I mean when I was a sophomore, I was ready to drop the whole history thing."
"Really, to do what?" He asked, suddenly interested. This wasn't something he had considered as a possible answer. If she had dropped history, they would never have met.
"I was driving to my mom's house to tell her I was dropping out of school to join a band." That made him smirk. So she could play an instrument? Sing? He had to file that away for later, because Lucy went on. "And I'm going over the entire speech in my head when the car spins out and right into the river."
Wyatt sat up a little straighter. He knew she survived somehow because she was right in front of him, but that story took a dark turn fast. He couldn't help his heart rate increase in worry. It was silly really; to worry over something that happened long before he met her and that she obviously got out of. Though perhaps not entirely unscathed if it was still bothering her.
"The car was filling up with water so fast. The car shuts down, the doors won't open, and I'm thinking… this is it. Someone happened by and pulled me out, but ever since then I've always put myself in situation that I could control."
"Right."
"I mean this, what we're doing… Every time I get in that time machine and I feel like… like I'm back in that car drowning… and I just…" She kept shaking her head unable to continue. Pressing her lips together, she looked up at him. "I don't think I can keep doing this… How do you keep doing it?"
He could have said anything. About training, about experience, about a million different things that would have been true, but wouldn't have helped her one bit. Instead he found himself talking about Grandpa Sherwin. About growing up with him, and following in his footsteps.
"Matter of fact, he's gotta be less than 200 miles from here right now, younger than me, with 101st killing Nazis," Wyatt mused, wondering for a brief moment what it would be like to meet him now. "That's why saving Nazis or letting Lincoln die, that's hard for me. Because it feels like I'm letting him down."
He looked up to find comprehension on her face. Admiration, too, though he was unsure whether it was for him or his grandfather. For the first time in their working relationship, Lucy's face was open toward him. Not in the way that she usually wore her emotions on her sleeves, but in the sense that they weren't at odds with one another. For once, they were on the same page, and it actually felt pretty good not to be fighting with her.
"He's what I'm fighting for. To make him proud." He got up and approached her, fixing her tie. Tension grew back into the air, but it was almost a pleasant sort. A weight between them had lifted and left something else in its wake. Friendship, perhaps. "You wanna know how to keep doing this?… Figure out what you're fighting for, and you'll be okay."
Her smile was brief and barely noticeable, but genuine and soft.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For talking, even though you're over the hump."
"Sure thing," he replied, and though he couldn't resist his trademark tease, it came out softer than a whisper. Almost like an endearment. "… ma'am."
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Jessica found him sitting on the couch with his laptop open across his lap, intently studying something. She was about to tell him dinner was ready when she got close enough to get a look at what he was looking at. It was a news article in a local paper she'd never heard of. Must be from a small town in the middle of nowhere, she figured. There was the picture of a car being pulled out of a lake, and one of a young woman. Still a girl, almost; she looked no older than twenty. Jessica didn't read the article Wyatt was so engrossed in, but judging by the headline about a Good Samaritan the girl must have made it out by the grace of God. Which was good, Jessica supposed, except the article seemed to be years old and she still didn't get why her husband was so interested.
"What're you reading, handsome?" She asked as she plopped herself on the couch next to him.
Wyatt startled at her sudden address, almost guiltily, and quickly shut the laptop. Jessica blinked, a frown forming on her face. Apparently, he had been so engrossed in the article, he thought she hadn't seen the it yet, and he also wanted to keep it a secret. She cast him a curious look, eyebrows raised up to her hairline in a silent question.
"Sorry, you just startled me," Wyatt excused himself. "It was just an old article about… nothing in particular. Is dinner ready? O-or is it my turn-"
"You really forgot everything around you while reading it, haven't you?" Jessica inquired, half bemused. She had rarely seen her usually unflappable husband so jittery. Wyatt scratched himself behind an ear. She knew that gesture; he was embarrassed. "She must be about our age now."
"A little older…" He answered, then realized what he'd said. It earned him another raise of Jessica's eyebrows, and the soldier groaned. He knew he wouldn't be able to weasel his way out of this one. "I work with her."
"Should I be jealous?" Jessica asked as nonchalantly as she could.
"No!" Wyatt responded immediately and vehemently. He quickly calmed himself, shaking off the visceral response that did nothing to calm Jessica's now frayed nerves. "Jesus, Jess, of course not. It's not like that."
"Then tell me what it's really like. Because you're not inspiring me with confidence here," she told him honestly.
Wyatt sighed. He'd have to fess up.
"Dr Preston is a historian I work with," he began. Best not to use Lucy's name right now. It would only give the wrong impression. "There was a… situation recently, in which she almost cracked, and… Well, I need to know who I'm working with and… so…"
"So you cyber-stalk her past?" Jessica replied with a small laugh and shake of her head. That poor woman. "Wyatt, you can't just…"
"I know. I know," he jumped in, glad Jessica had gotten over her misguided idea of him having an affair with a coworker. Wyatt heaved a sigh of relief, though he felt somewhat guilty for not mentioning that Lucy had told him about this herself. It was true that he needed to know what might make her crack up under the pressure, but he'd already been told. By Lucy herself. So there was technically no reason to go search for news on the story, unless he thought she wasn't telling the truth. Which he didn't think, but he also couldn't shake the need to know. The whole, miserable episode was stuck in his mind, highlighting how brave she'd been. Needing to find out more on what happened had been like an itch in the few days down time they'd gotten since their mission to Germany. He'd tried to ignore it. He'd tried to distract himself. He'd considered calling her about a million times to ask her how she was faring after all that, but they didn't do that. He and Lucy and Rufus. Aside from an after missions beer here or there, they pretty much didn't interact outside of work. So Wyatt had been left to his own devices, and the nagging curiosity in the back of his mind had only grown until he'd given in and looked it up.
He'd rationalized it to himself, of course. He'd told himself over and over that if Flynn found out, he might decide to do something to prevent Lucy from being saved. The terrorist might not be able to go to the event itself, but if he killed her Good Samaritan in the crib, or his mother or father before they met, Lucy could cease to exist. That would be detrimental to their mission, and he actually wondered what would happen to her physically. Would she just fade away like in the movies? Would she continue to exist as an anomaly? A dead woman walking? Would he and Rufus even remember her, since they were in the Life Boat with her? The others certainly wouldn't. Which led to thoughts about who might take her place, and Wyatt was fairly confident they wouldn't be lucky enough to get a lithe, healthy, a little nervous but incredibly clever young woman again. And they couldn't exactly take an old geezer with them on dangerous missions throughout history, so there.
"Are you coming to dinner?"
"Oh, yeah," he called back, surprised to have drifted off into his own head again. He shook his head free of these worries - he'd never let anything happen to Lucy or Rufus - and shut down the laptop. As long as he was in the present, it was time to be in the here an now instead of drifting off into the possible future… or possible past, as it were. Nonetheless, the knowledge that Lucy's savior had remained unknown, that neither the article, nor the police and hospital reports he'd convinced Agent Christopher to get him held any clues as to his identity, eased Wyatt's mind enormously.
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(1836)
"I'm not going," he told Lucy firmly after he'd pulled her back behind the wagon and into relative safety against the bullets flying everywhere. She turned around on him faster than he would have thought her capable, a look of utter confusion on her dirt-streaked face.
"No, what? What do you mean?"
"You don't need me, and they're getting rid of me anyway, right?"
Lucy looked at him as if she doubted his sanity. He couldn't blame her for that, but he was sure she understood. She'd overheard his conversation with Bowie, so she had to know why he was doing this. Why he had to fight. He couldn't run from his fate again. Like she thought she should have died in her sophomore year, he knew he was supposed to die in the mission that doomed his brothers. He'd only made it out by stupid chance, and he couldn't leave any more men behind.
"And Jessica?" Lucy asked, and Wyatt flinched. Yeah, he had tried not to think too hard on what this would mean for his wife. Never knowing what happened to him. Burying an empty coffin. His dog tags that he'd had to leave at Mason's the only thing she'd get back from him. Wyatt had really hoped Lucy wouldn't mention her. Frankly, he'd hoped she and Rufus would leave and only realize he hadn't followed when the fort was already overrun and they were a safe distance away.
"Jess will understand," Wyatt muttered, surprised that it was mostly true. Jess would grieve, she would curse and swear and fall apart, and then she'd rebuild herself stronger than before. She would miss him, but she had always known his job was dangerous and that she couldn't expect him to come home. "She'll know I did my duty."
"Your duty is to get us out of here, not to die," Lucy argued again. "Wyatt, you can't stay here. Everybody dies-"
"No, I know." He looked around. "But you're off to safety with Rufus and he'll get you both home."
The way she looked at him, now that he'd said it out loud, she understood. Lucy understood, and her eyes filled, but not with tears. Instead of tears, as Wyatt watched they turned darker, filled with anger and anguish and more the two of them chose not to speak of. She bit her lip as if to prevent the words from spilling out, and it was Wyatt's turn to understand. And he did, so well. Just looking at her in this state almost compelled him to move forward to close the distance. To wrap her in his arms and whisper comforting words to her, but he held himself in check. Wyatt swallowed it all down, everything more he wanted to say, and decided to help her out.
"Let me do this. Let me buy you the time to get out." He was pleading with her now, but he didn't care.
"What about m- us?" She asked, scared. "We're counting on you."
Wyatt swallowed.
"The next guy is gonna handle it." Please let that be enough. Please let me go. I can't follow. I can't. Wyatt's mind whirled. He felt himself losing ground, and he couldn't fathom abandoning Bowie and his men to die alone.
"I don't want anybody else." Her hands rose to cradle his face as he looked on in stunned silence. "I trust you. You're the one that I trust. Rufus needs you, I need you."
Wyatt almost sobbed, then cursed. His mind screamed, his voice died.
"I can't leave good men like this, not again," he exhaled. The words were nothing more than a whisper, revealing the true crack that seemed to split him in two and strip him of the will to live.
I don't know how to make my feet move.
Lucy seemed to hear him, to hear what he didn't know how to say. She held out her hand to him, palm up. Open. Offering. Inviting. Wyatt swallowed thickly at the bile of two-fold guilt in his throat, but he took it. She squeezed his hand gently, never breaking eye contact, until he found the will to squeeze back. A small, broken smile cracked his face. She saw it, and clung to it. It was all she was going to get from him, and it was enough if it meant they were both getting out of here. And as she stood, she felt his weight hold her in place, but only for a moment. Then his weight lifted as Wyatt moved with her to run to the chapel, keeping his body between her and the north wall, and trying not to think that the reason he chose to live was not his wife.
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(Present)
Back home he tried to avoid Jessica, while he sorted out his messed up head, to the point that he slept at Mason's the first few days. Wyatt ghosted her, which only added to the guilt that churned in his stomach as the numbers of unanswered calls and texts climbed. Jess even tried to call Mason's company and have them call him to the phone, but he told them to tell her he was unavailable. Which made it even worse, because now he even dragged Mason's employee's into his mess.
Finally, it was Agent Christopher who threw him out, then turned back around to him to add that he was not to sleep in his truck on the parking lot. Or anywhere else. So Wyatt had to return home. He was only two inches through the door when Jessica was on him. He expected her to give him hell, but instead she jumped into his arms and held him tightly to her.
"You're okay," she sobbed. "You're okay."
Wyatt didn't know what to do.
"I thought you had d- that it must be bad if you're not answering and no one would tell me anything," she continue to cry into his shoulder, and Wyatt felt like even more of an asshole. He hadn't even considered that Jess might think he was hurt rather than avoiding her. He finally managed to put his arms around her and lightly hug her back.
"I'm sorry Jess," didn't really cover it, but it was all he could think of. It was apparently also the stroke that broke the camel's back, because when she pulled back from him, her eyes shone with tears and fury.
"Where have you been?! What's going on? Because you clearly aren't injured, at least not badly," she growled at him, angry beyond measure and he couldn't even blame her. "I don't hear anything from you for days after your text that you're home. For days, Wyatt. No calls, no texts, I can't even reach you through the company. I thought… But you're obviously fine!"
"I'm sorry, Jess-"
"Stop saying that!" She fumed. "You're obviously not sorry. You ignored me, Wyatt, and I wanna know why!"
"I- I can't talk about it, Jess. I… wish I could. The last mission was just… tough." That wasn't true though, was it? Yes, the mission was difficult, hellish even, but he could have talked about his… conflict. His moment of… hesitation in getting out. His PTSD episode. She knew he had those. He could tell her about that. In fact, he should tell her about that. As well as about Lucy, and how she pulled him out of it, and that something was definitely off - wrong, but he tired not to even think that word - about them. Him and her, them. But he couldn't. Wyatt couldn't form the words, and he tried to convince himself that it was only because there really was nothing to tell in the end.
They were in a tough spot, his PTSD acting up, and Lucy found the lever to pull to get him to move. She saved his life, made him come back to Jess, that was it. That was all. It had to be all. And he was glad to be back, even if he'd avoided her. He had so easily accepted her grief at the Alamo, but looking at her now, he never wanted to cause her that pain, not deliberately. He was back where he belonged. In the present with Jess, with his wife, and that was all that mattered. The words felt hollow even in his mind, but he chose to believe them anyway. Giving Jess any details would only serve to hurt her further, and he'd done enough of that the last few days.
"Tough," she harrumphed. "How tough can these missions be if they're letting a history professor take part?"
That rankled, and before he could think better of it, the words were out of his mouth.
"Lucy is an asset, and you don't know what we've all been though."
"Oh, it's Lucy now, is it?"
Wyatt huffed out a sigh of frustration.
"Oh God, Jess, don't… don't make this into to more than it is. Lucy is my colleague, and a friend, and she's saved our asses on these missions a few times. That tends to stick you together like glue…"
"Us?" Jess asked, surprised.
Wyatt blinked.
"Yeah, me and Rufus."
"Oh, so you're not…"
"Not what?"
"Alone. With her."
"What? Wait, you thought-"
"Well, what was I supposed to think. You never talk about what you do at Mason's - and yes, I know, it's secret - but you did mention her. No one else, just her. And you stalked her past and- I don't know, Wyatt."
Wyatt sighed.
"Aside from Lucy and Rufus, there's also Agent Christopher from Homeland, Jiya, our technician, Mason and his whole team of scientists. There are a lot of people involved in this, men and women. I only mentioned Lucy at all, because she nearly broke under the strain and I stalked her because I was worried it might happen again, but…"
"It didn't," Jess surmised.
"Not to her," Wyatt admitted hesitantly, with a meaningful look at his wife. Jess seemed to get it immediately. She exhaled a breath, her shoulders sagged and her whole demeanor softened. "I… didn't want to be here and risk taking it out on you."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either, and though Jess couldn't notice, Wyatt saw the first crack forming in their marriage due to his omission. He had to find a way to fix this. Jess was his wife, and he loved her. That was all that mattered, no matter how bright their historian shone. Being impressed was okay. It was normal, and tight quarters meant attachments were bound to form, but she wasn't Jess. It wasn't the same. Wyatt knew that. He just didn't know how to convince his floundering heart of that.
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(1972 + 1754)
He decided to avoid her, keep things professional and distant. Impersonal. Which was easy enough when you were tied to a chair while your two comrades were out to help a megalomaniac kill somebody in order to save you. Unfortunately, Flynn wouldn't shut up and leave him to stew in silence in his captivity. No, instead his favorite murderer decided he had nothing better to do than to keep him company and taunt him the alleged future journal of the person he was trying desperately to avoid thinking about.
"Only two hours left, I wonder if your friends are gonna make it."
"Well, why don't you look at that magical future book. It should tell you."
"It doesn't say."
"But it told you to come to 1972?" How did this work if the book was apparently incomplete?
"It does have an entry on the Nixon tape, yes," Flynn answered vaguely.
"So, how does this end? Do you kill me? Am I rescued? What's the point spread in the next Super Bowl? Who's playing?"
Flynn leaned forward, apparently frustrated with his taunting questions, and Wyatt felt a measure of satisfaction that he could push the other man's buttons.
"I don't know what happens today because the journal doesn't tell me everything. Lucy doesn't write out everything…" After a moment of hesitation, he continues in an almost more cautious note. "And what is written does sometimes sound… crazy. Like it's from a different Lucy."
"Yeah," Wyatt sighed back at him as if he understood Flynn's point of view. "Lucy is the one that sounds crazy."
The two men held each other's gaze for a moment, before Flynn leant back in his chair and offered to tell him what Lucy had written about him in her journal. Him and Jessica, to be precise. The bastard enjoyed holding that over him, Wyatt could see it even as he was torn between wanting to know and dreading it. He also knew he had no business knowing Lucy's innermost thoughts unless she told him herself, and Wyatt had the distinct feeling that she wouldn't want this to become public knowledge. As he thought this, he cast a quick glance at the other guard in the room. Noticing this, Flynn sent him to guard the door from the outside.
"After all, this is private business," he teased, and the two men shared a chuckle at Wyatt's expense, but the soldier was just glad there was one less person he'd have to deal with right away if he managed to free himself with the nail. When the door was firmly shut, the terrorist turned back to his captive. "Well, shall we?"
He opened the journal at a precise point as if he had read it so often he knew where to find the passage by heart. Wyatt's heart lurched at the thought. That was already too intimate in a way, to have Flynn know so well Lucy's thoughts and… feelings about him. She would be mortified if she knew, and he vowed not to reveal anything to her, but he had to keep Flynn talking to distract him.
"If it's so private, you shouldn't read it," he tried anyway, for Lucy's sake - and his.
"And you shouldn't hear it," Flynn chuckled back. "Yet here we are… Besides, what are you so afraid of? According to you I'm lying and this is not Lucy's journal, right?"
Wyatt remained silent. He had made that point to Lucy, and he'd also pointed out that she could simply not write it if it really were hers. He wasn't about to confirm any of this for Flynn, though. The terrorist, meanwhile, smoothed a hand over the well-worn page and began.
"I didn't like Wyatt at first. He was too cocky, too confident, and too unconcerned with Rufus' and my welfare or the protection of history. He dismissed nearly killing me with such ease," Flynn read, then chuckled. "Well, you two didn't start out well, did you?"
He looked up briefly to gauge Wyatt's reaction, but the soldier kept his face blank.
"We didn't get along. That happens when you shoot someone inches from a person's head," he taunted back. "That's no secret."
"No, but then I don't expect I'll be telling you anything new as I read this anyway. Nothing you haven't suspected at least."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wyatt demanded, because it sounded like an accusation.
"That I've got eyes, Dimmesdale." Before Wyatt could reply, furious, he continued. "Over the following missions, his attitude changed. He was just as fierce as before, and there were times I was glad for it, but both Rufus and I seemed to earn his respect. He grew… softer toward us. Oh, you have a soft side - how touching."
"My sides are none of your business."
"And Lucy is none of yours."
"Keep her out of this, Flynn. Just leave her alone."
"So protective. She's not your wife, you know."
"Of course, I know that, but she's my friend and you-"
Flynn tutted, though, pointing at the book.
"I'm not so sure Lucy knows that. And I can feel our dynamic shift further. I thought I was merely imagining it or that it was one-sided, just some foolish notions caused by the danger and the close quarters. When Judith Campbell asked if we were lovers, I denied it, of course, but I couldn't help but picture it, just for a moment. It was wrong, and I felt awful, but I don't think it is just that anymore. I'm afraid it's not. I can see Wyatt struggling. It was clear when he struggled with Fleming's interest in me, the same interested look he'd given me in my dress for the date with Robert Todd Lincoln. It just got worse after. With every mission, it's like we take a step closer to a place neither of us wants to go, except we do. There is something, so much that we don't say and it is ruining him. I am ruining him, and it becomes harder and harder to keep quiet, to pretend it isn't there. I have thought about going to Agent Christopher and asking if they could replace him, like they intended before."
Wyatt sucked in a breath. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He wanted to hurl, preferably right on top of Flynn and that godawful journal.
"That must hurt," Flynn murmured, his voice almost kind. When Wyatt looked up, he saw Flynn's pity, and it just made him want to wipe that expression of the asshole's face.
"Shut up," he grunted.
"I mean, you must have known you two were dancing dangerously close to the edge of adultery-"
"I said shut up." The word alone made his heart sink.
"But to have her plot behind your back to remove you? Why doesn't she go if she can't handle it?"
"I said shut the hell up!" He was hurting so badly his mind spun, and he didn't know why. Wished he didn't know why, to be honest, and perhaps it was time to be. With himself. With her. With his wife. Yet, he would need to put order to his frayed mind first, and now, since Flynn also told him how he and Lucy had chatted throughout history, it was easy to avoid her. It was easy to avoid Rufus, too, since he was working for Rittenhouse.
The next mission Wyatt tried to keep as much distance as possible, though that became difficult when Flynn stranded them in 1754. He didn't know what sucked more, the time, the French, the Shawnee, or Lucy and Rufus chafing against his patience even when they tried to stay out his way. He was responsible for them though, and they'd never make it without him. They had a plan to repair the Life Boat, well, half of a plan that involved marching straight into the French fort tomorrow and was likely to get them killed. Even if they survived that, there was a fair to decent chance they'd get killed on the trip back, or that they couldn't repair the Life Boat at all. Wyatt almost hoped for one of the first two options. Somehow being stuck here with them seemed infinitely worse than death, and wasn't that a horrible thought to have. It wasn't that he suddenly didn't care about them anymore. He did, and that's why their betrayals hurt so badly.
Unable to sleep, and since someone had to keep guard anyway, he'd let Rufus sleep passed the end of his shift and just stayed awake. He looked at them now, lying in the dirt, huddled together for warmth because they couldn't risk a fire. Lucy was shivering even in her sleep, because she'd lost the shawl Mason's team had given her sometime during their multi-day chase of Flynn. He tore his gaze away, reminding himself that he was angry at the both of them, though he knew that couldn't last forever. Especially if they ended up stuck in this time.
Because they'd need each other. He might be able to survive on his own in theory, but he didn't know the times. He didn't know where to turn for friendlies, so he'd be more likely to run into more French soldiers or hostile tribes. Lucy did know these things, and Rufus would probably make living here a lot easier with his technological knowledge if it came down to that. Of course, there was also the glaring pink elephant in the room; that neither of them was gonna get far without him. The past was not made for black people or women.
They needed him. That alone was almost enough to quench his anger. He had no time for it and no energy to spare for it if they were left to survive in this historical hellscape. He was so lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the rustling and the first few tentative footsteps. Lucy had gotten up, and was stumbling away from camp. Wyatt frowned. He didn't peg Lucy for a sleep-walker, though they'd never had an overnight mission like this before. He decided to follow her a little ways so as not to wake Rufus, while still able to keep an ear out to protect their camp. She moved further into the thicket that surrounded them, looking around herself to check for something. People waiting in the bushes for her or animals lurking about perhaps? Wyatt's anger grew fiery hot again. Was she looking for Flynn? Had he come back for her?
"Where you going, Lucy?"
She jumped at his words, putting a hand over her heart as she turned back toward him.
"Jesus, Wyatt, you scared me."
"Where are you going?"
He could watch Lucy blink in confusion at his question even in the dark. Her eyes narrowed at him. She was used to his hostile tone by now, no doubt, but something about him following her rankled her more than his dismissive attitude had these past few days. She put her hands on her hips and turned around to face him head-on.
"Flynn's gone, remember?" He couldn't help but taunt her.
"You think I'm here to- what's gotten into you?! I'm not meeting Flynn. I never planned to meet him. I simply ran in to him, and we exchanged a few words-"
"And you forget to tell us about it every time," he accused her.
"I was still trying to figure things out myself, and I am sorry. I should have told you."
"Not sorry enough if you're still looking for him."
"I'm out here to relieve myself, Wyatt," she growled back with venom. It was Wyatt's turn to blink. "It's really difficult to sleep with a full bladder, and I didn't exactly want one of you to listen - ugh!"
She dropped her arms, annoyed and embarrassed.
"You didn't any of the other nights," Wyatt pointed out, still suspicious, even though Lucy was arguable the worst liar in the world.
"I did when Rufus was on lookout. I didn't want to- shouldn't he be watching us by now? What time is it?"
"…I couldn't sleep." He admitted it quietly as her words phased him, or more precisely, as the words she hadn't said brought him up short. She hadn't wanted… to face him, he imagined. Not any more than necessary. His anger at her had been colder, more vicious these last few days than his anger at Rufus. The pilot had just tried to protect his family. Her betrayal was more personal. It was different. She — they were different. It hurt more, even though it shouldn't.
"Wyatt," she murmured, barely audible. There was so much hurt, and sadness, and hope in the way she spoke his name that his anger faltered. It was the first time she'd spoken to him voluntarily. Until now she had merely answered when he spoke to her. In a way, she had given him the cold shoulder too, and it had hurt, he realized now. He had wanted his space, he thought, but her giving it to him and doing her part to keep their interactions to the minimum necessary, had left him reeling more, not less.
"Flynn told me about the journal, too. He… read me some passages." He couldn't say more, couldn't explain what he'd heard. He wondered if Lucy understood anyway, if she suspected that her other, older self had written about them. If she did, it didn't show on her face. "He said the other you sounded mad at times."
"She'd have to be to give him a guidebook on how to unravel history," she choked, tired of holding all the fear and anguish over what she was supposed to do inside anymore. Before Wyatt could react, she crumpled right in front of him. He caught her when she'd fallen to her knees, prevent her from curling herself on the ground as sobs racked her thin frame. Anger forgotten under the weight she was showing him she'd carried alone for so long, he held her to him as she cried. Cried and cursed, her small fists drumming against his chest, but he barely felt them. She was breaking apart, more now at this than any car accident could ever make her, and he felt horrible for having added to her burden instead of helping her shoulder it.
"We will make it home," he promised what he couldn't, a hand brushing through her hair tenderly while the other curled tightly around her waist. "We'll stop Flynn, save history. Get your sister back. We'll make it through this."
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(Present)
They would not, he realized when he came home and could barely look at Jess. His wife, blessedly clueless and soft-hearted that she was, thought he'd had another bout of PTSD. She gave him space, let him sleep in the guest room without protest because he couldn't even look at his marriage bed right now. It did't matter that nothing had happened. Flynn had been right. It was happening in their hearts, and that was adultery enough. Things were only gonna get worse from here on out, and Wyatt knew only one way to stop that. Because Lucy had been right too, in her journal.
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(Present)
By the expression on Wyatt's face, he dreaded this conversation as much as she did. Even though they both knew it was a long time coming. Practically since the day they met. Lucy forcibly swallowed the bile in her throat as she handed her pink dress to one of Mason's employees. She watched Wyatt do the same with his suit and hoped against hope that he'd then just leave. No such luck, of course. The historian guessed it was too much to hope for to let their sleeping dogs lie any longer.
They might have done so if this mission hadn't turned into such a god-awful mess. It had essentially been their crucible, which had brought to light all the nasty, ugly, unsaid things between them that should have best remained buried. Lucy swallowed again when Wyatt finally reached her. He kept a professional distance between them, his intention practically visible as he glanced at the empty space between their bodies as if measuring it.
When he opened his mouth to speak, though, Lucy shook her head her him. Not here. He gave a minute nod and followed her as she turned away from him. They made their way through sections of the wardrobe, rows upon rows of period-appropriate dresses, suits, shoes and hats. They passed through several doors, all the clothing impossible to fit in a single hall. Finally, they reached a small room that was unlit and unattended. Neither of them had ever been there, and they took a moment to look around at the simple, but colorful dresses, shawls and sandals.
"Looks like Mason's prepared to send us to Ancient Rome," Lucy commented with an only half-amused huff, then jumped at the sound of her own voice. Breaking the silence between them was a jarring experience. Their eyes flew together, clearly both desperate to get out of there, but resigned to stay. It was high time they brought all out in the open to clear the air and see where the dust would settle.
"I resigned," Wyatt blurted out.
Lucy gasped in shock as he looked away from her eyes, unable to meet her gaze anymore. She had expected that this conversation would hurt, but she'd never expected him to do something so rash or so extreme. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as if wanting to say something, but she could form the words. Lucy was drawing a blank at his bold admission. Wyatt took pity on her and filled the silence.
"We both know it's the only way. They need you for this more than me. There are plenty of grunts they can replace me with, and I can't work with y-"
Lucy's sharp intake of breath made him curse.
"No, Lucy, I didn't mean it like that! Shit, I swear, I didn't mean- ugh!"
Damn, that hurt! It was Lucy's turn to look away. She knew he hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but… a tiny part of him probably did. She couldn't fault him for blaming her. He got the worse end of the stick, and desperately needed a way out. Blaming her was easy. It was safe, and she understood. Even if it hurt like hell.
"Lucy," he tried gently, grasping for her hand, but she wrenched it away, before she could feel the hint of metal touch her skin, and backed up a few more steps for good measure.
"No, I can't do this dance with you again. You're always hot and cold. Sometimes you're my friend, sometimes you push me away. Your mood swings give me whiplash!"
He looked at the ground, ashamed.
"I know… I know I'm just as responsible and that I hurt you, and that I hurt you more by just quitting, and I don't want to!" He looked up at her. "But I don't know what else to do. I can't stay… You know I can't-"
He didn't finish, but he held up the left hand that had reached out for her a moment before, and both their gazes fell automatically to the small golden circlet that glinted in the dim light. For a moment, all the anger and the hurt and the grief fell from Lucy. She drew a blank again at the evidence of how right he was. Wyatt couldn't stay, and she couldn't - and wouldn't - ask that of him. If she suffered for being attracted to a married man, she couldn't imagine how painful it had to be for him, liking her. More than liking her when he shouldn't and didn't want to.
"I love Jess," he said as if sensing what she was thinking. Well, it probably wasn't particularly difficult. "And I don't want to jeopardize that, but I can't… help how I'm starting to feel about you. How I do feel about you. That's… not something that can go on."
"I know," Lucy declared softly. She felt defeated. Rejected, even, though she had no reason to feel that sorry for herself. Wyatt was never hers, and she had never intended to make him hers. To lead him away from his wife. Still, she had begun to accomplish just that without even trying. She hadn't been able to help herself either, and it made her feel so filthy. She was an adulteress. A home wrecker! Before she could blink, Wyatt was right in front of her, both of her hands clasped tightly in his. His intense gaze seemed to bore into her, and Lucy realized that she must have said some of that out loud.
"You're not a home wrecker, Lucy. Nothing could be further from the truth. You didn't try to break up my marriage, and you aren't responsible for my attraction to you. We have both been foolish to let this dance go on for so long. You didn't do anything wrong."
Lucy could only nod.
"We're both responsible for our actions, so we both have to make our choices. I… can't stay, or whatever is growing between us - whatever is growing in me, will make me wreck my marriage. Me. The… kiss in front of Bonnie and Clyde has just finally rammed that home."
"Yeah, that was-" She bit her lip nervously, remembering the rush of emotions and heat that had coursed through her at the simple touch of his lips. She could't help but glance at them now, but quickly looked up again guiltily. "It was something."
Wyatt chuckled. It was more than something, and they both knew it. It was why he had to quit while he still could. He could only save one relationship, and he and Jessica had been in love since their teens. She was his first love, his only love (and would remain so if only he tore himself away from the woman in front of him), and his wife. He had made her a promise: to be faithful, to love and cherish her until death parted them. Wyatt was a man of his word, even if it tore part of him in two as he looked at Lucy's grieving face. He could see she was trying to hide the sense of rejection. He would leave, he had to, but he couldn't leave her like his.
"I want you to know," he began softly, gazing down at her with tenderness. "If I wasn't… If Jessica weren't in the picture, I would-"
She raised a hand to cover his mouth, a sad smile playing on her lips as she shook her head slightly. Silently pleading with him not to go on. She didn't think her heart could take that truth to be fully out in the open just before he turned his back on her and left her behind. Wyatt closed his eyes painfully. It was clear he had hoped to ease her burden, and now felt terrible that he might have made it worse. He gently laid a kiss to her fingers, before they fell from his lips.
"I know the guy who's replacing me. You'll like him," he tried to change the topic and the mood. "You'll like him better than me."
Lucy chuckled, even as a few tears escaped her. She let them run, and Wyatt dared not touch her face to brush them away.
"I doubt it."
Before he could answer, an alarm blared audibly through the entire building, but rather than jump apart, it made them grip each other more tightly. Flynn had jumped again, sooner than expected. The two exchanged a glance. They would have to pull themselves together one more time, before their final curtain fell.
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The following hours had left Wyatt frantic upon his return. It was supposed to be his last mission in the Lifeboat. Bam-Bam was briefed and waiting when he and Rufus returned, but like hell would Wyatt let him take his seat before Lucy was back home and safe. He and Agent Christopher very nearly had a shouting match about that, and it was Bam-Bam's quiet voice of reason that had prevented worse. It was Wyatt's team and Wyatt's failure, he argued, and so, of course, Wyatt should be the one to remedy.
The other soldier didn't like to be reminded of his failure to keep Lucy safe. He'd been so distracted by Rittenhouse's obvious disgusting intentions with Lucy - his Lucy - that he hadn't thought straight when their historian told him and Rufus to go after Flynn and stop him from killing the boy. He had left her alone, left her to look alone for the boy that Flynn was also looking for - and wasn't that just one more reason for him to leave?! He was so distracted by his stupid heart that he couldn't even protect her anymore.
It was high time he left, but not without rescuing Lucy first. Or so he thought, because in the end, it was really her that had saved them. When that hidden door opened, and the lock pick gave way to the sight of Lucy, Wyatt felt his heart skip several beats. He couldn't say who moved first as they rushed into the others arms. He felt her arms wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin through his clothes. He had never been so grateful for that little sting. Wyatt pulled her to him, one hand gently cradling the back of her head or else he wouldn't trust himself not to crush her to him.
"Thank God you're alright!" He whispered frantically.
She pulled away.
"I'm okay," she responded as if she couldn't quite believe it herself.
"Where's Flynn?"
"He's locked in an office somewhere thanks to Harry here. Brought you a present," she told him, handing him a gun, making him grin at her ingenuity. He felt Rufus' gaze on them, and realized he should probably make way for him to greet Lucy too, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Rufus finally stepped around him with a huff to hug Lucy to him. They were both so glad they were alive, but Lucy was looking at him even over Rufus' back the entire time. It seemed he wasn't the only one who couldn't stop staring. Even when Sophia and George were introduced and rushed out of the cellar, it took effort to move.
"We probably should get going," George reminded them. "Before someone realizes we are gone."
Wyatt nodded, but turned to Lucy when everyone was out. One more stolen moment wouldn't make a difference. He had a lot to confess anyway when all was said and done.
"I thought we'd lost you. I'm glad you're okay, even though…As soon as we return home, I will have lost you." His voice was rueful.
"And I you. That's how it has to be." They smiled sadly at each other, and their movements were slow as they left that damn pit, but it was time to look to the future. Just before they turned back to the main room though, they stopped one more time as if pulled by the same string. These wouldn't be the last glances they shared, nor the last words, but they knew it would be the last moments of privacy. Here, more than a hundred years in the past, where no one knew them. "I will miss you," Lucy admitted. "Despite how it has to be, you'll always be my friend."
Wyatt nodded.
"And you, mine. I'll never be able to shake you, Lucy," Wyatt declared, with both relief and dread. His head dropped to touch their foreheads. That was as close as he dared. "Nor you me, I think. I don't believe in meant-to-bes, but with you… I'm so glad I met you."
Lucy answered, thinking on a legend she'd learned of in an Asian culture class she'd taken for extra credit during her sophomore year at university. She could tell by Wyatt's curious glance that he wanted to know what she was thinking, but she shook her head minutely and rose up to kiss his cheek.
"Me too."
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(4 years later)
All along the Marian Way that connected the University of San Diego Department of History with other nearby Faculty was littered with tables and booths on Career Day. Every faculty had one, of course, to inform interested young people who wanted to sign up at the university and students who were thinking to switch their major alike. Families were here with their kids to plan their future as well as students from other universities from all over the world.
Interspersed with the university booths, the administration had planted participating companies for the ones who'd finish studying next year and wanted to inform themselves about work options in San Diego and the surrounding areas. In addition, there were various exchange programs like Erasmus, DAAD, Fulbright and others waiting for candidates who wanted to spend a semester abroad to flock to them.
Lucy had never been a friend of the hustle and bustle a such events at her mother's history department, and she'd thrown herself into finding another university as soon as her missions with the Life Boat were over. She had hoped to stay in California, so she was glad USD had offered her a tenure track position, despite her disappearance from academia for more than two years. She had a feeling Denise had something to do with it, and being unsure if she'd earned it rankled her at first, but she was just so glad to get away from Frisco and she ultimately figured she had earned a chance by risking her life to save history.
As she surveyed the barely controlled chaos of the event now, it did make her smile. Somehow it was half as bad without her mother breathing down her neck or the weight of her expectation spinning around the back of her mind. She could breathe easier here than she ever had in San Francisco, and so Lucy found herself almost enjoying the giant cluster of activity she found herself in the middle of. New professors got stuck with the worst duties, so she was one of the unfortunates manning the History Department's booth, but she had some time off for lunch now and she surprisingly found herself strolling through the crowd to see what else was on offer. So far, she had stopped at a few exchange programs' tables to gather some information on exchanges for professors. If there was a possibility, she figured she should exploit it if not right away.
As she finished up her conversation with the DAAD representative, and decided it was time to go look for lunch, her gaze fell onto a small cluster of uniformed service personnel - two men and one woman - handing out information regarding the armed services. Specifically, her gaze stuck to one man about her age with the bluest eyes and easiest smile she hadn't seen in a long time. Lucy was shocked into stillness as she recognized Wyatt in light conversation with a student, handing her a brochure. For a second, she thought of scampering away. He was clearly on top of his life, and she didn't want to wake bad memories, but then she remembered they promised to remain friends. Even though they didn't stay in touch, thinking back to the Asian myth she'd wondered about at their goodbyes, she still didn't want to miss this opportunity. Besides, s much time had passed, they should be okay to spend a minute talking with each other.
"It's been a while, soldier," she offered by way of greeting. He looked up at her, confusion clear on his face, and Lucy had a moment of panic. What if he didn't remember her? What if they did something that changed the past so they never met? She made a quick excuse to beat the retreat. "Oh my God, sorry, I thought you were someone els-"
"Lucy, wait," Wyatt called after her, and if anything she was more shocked that he did know her after all. He turned to his comrades and excused himself for a moment, before he joined her. "Lunch?"
She nodded dumbly, and let him lead her inside the administrative building that also housed a cafeteria. It wasn't anything special, but she was more interested in the man than in the food anyway. When they'd gotten their coffee and sandwiches, and sat down, it took them a moment to resume conversation - or even to regain the ability to make conversation.
"I didn't expect you to be here. Does Stanford have a booth here? Are you trying to steal USD's students?" He asked with a chuckle.
"Uh, no, I teach here now. I left Stanford after-" At his open, curious gaze, she realized that he didn't get the inference. He couldn't, of course, he'd already been gone by then, but she'd kind of forgotten that. "Uhm, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you, but… let's just say, Flynn was not crazy and my mom was involved. I couldn't stay at Stanford after."
Wyatt blew out a breath as he began to understand.
"Whew, that's… Lucy, that's a lot. Are you okay?"
"No, I- I'm a long way away from okay, but… I'm getting better."
"I'm so sorry," he offered, obviously unsure what else to say. "I'm sorry I wasn't there-"
"No, don't do that to yourself. You did the only right thing. I- It hurt - both of us, I think - but I couldn't have l-lived with myself if… None of this was your fault."
"Thanks," he told her quietly. "Let's talk about something else?"
"Yes, please," Lucy replied instantly, making him smile at her eagerness. "You look great. How are you? How is Jessica?"
Wyatt flinched at the name. Lucy noticed, looked down at his finger that she now noticed was devoid of a ring, and her stomach plummeted.
"None of this is your fault either, Lucy," he reassured her softly.
"But… you left for her. You… Did she not… Oh my god, Wyatt, what happened? Are you gonna be alright?"
"You're right. I left for her, and I stand by that. It was the right thing to do."
"Of course it was," she confirmed. It had hurt like hell, but they'd both known this simple truth.
"I… I tried to leave it all behind, resume my old life. That was my first mistake, I guess. No, I know it was. I wasn't honest with her. I tried to pretend everything was fine, but she noticed there was a difference. I acted differently, spaced out at odd times when I thought of you and Rufus and the mission. I missed you guys and I missed being a part of our team."
Lucy tentatively extended a hand to cover his. He turned his hand around and squeezed hers gratefully.
"We missed you too. Rufus, Dave and I spoke about you often. I must have considered calling you a million times," she admitted with a blush.
"Me too. And I think Jess noticed that, too, that it was more about you than about everything else, because she asked me about it once. Point blank." He watched Lucy suck in a breath before he continued. "I told her then, everything I could. That I had… developed feelings for my friend… a woman who wasn't her, but that I'd chosen her and our love and our marriage. She believed me. She wasn't happy, but she was willing to try. So, we tried… We even took counseling, but… we couldn't prevent drifting apart anymore. Maybe if I'd been honest with her from the beginning, but by then it was… it was… the trust was gone. I can't even blame her."
He took a sip of his coffee, his hand still held onto hers.
"We finalized the divorce eight months ago."
"I'm sorry, Wyatt."
He shook his head.
"Not your fault, remember? Besides, while I had every intention of keeping my vow to Jess, keeping her trapped in a marriage where it hurt more to stay together than to break up was not part of it. It was all rather amicable."
"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell," Lucy whispered, because she couldn't imagine that it didn't touch Wyatt at all. She felt his thumb caress over her skin.
"It did, but it got easier a lot faster than I expected, likely because we didn't fight. Ar-Are you and Dr Noah…"
"Oh God, no, he was Rittenhouse too. Part of my mom's plan for royal babies," Lucy scoffed, and she felt his fingers tighten. Looking up, she saw he was angry, not at her, but on her behalf. She reached over to lay her other hand over both of theirs. "Don't worry, I'm not sorry. I was going to leave him anyway. I couldn't exactly stay with him when…"
She didn't finish, but Wyatt understood perfectly.
"Geez, Lucy, you really know how to pick us," he laughed softly, and she fell in with him. His other hand joined the pile last, but their laughter suddenly died as it did, and the mood turned serious. Heavy with all that had never quite gone away. "Damn, it still feels like this."
"Yeah," she breathed, equally surprised.
"Listen, I… I know this sounds crazy, and I'm not ready to jump into anything else, and I don't think you are either, but… I'd like to see you again. To do… something about this - us - this time."
Lucy smiled, feeling that red string pull a little as it tied itself in another knot around the two of them.
"Me too."
The End