Gold: San Francisco, California. 2017.
Wyatt stared down at tiny gold circle for what felt like the billionth time, the brisk December air seemingly rushing past his ears at an impossibly fast hyper-speed. The old-world grandeur of the Bently Reserve's upper veranda - daunting columns, gleaming marble, intricate scrollwork - folded around him like a restrictive envelope. The irony wasn't lost in him. In fact, it had actually helped to fuel this decision of his once he'd kicked the idea around a few times. Connor Mason's choice in party venue was the former San Francisco Federal Reserve, a prominent downtown landmark that dated as far back as 1924. The building seemed out of place now, mobbed by a sea of newer, crisper, taller rivals. But if Wyatt turned his back to the rest of the city and distanced himself from everything but the Bently's remarkable architecture, he could have been convinced that he was caught up on another jump through time.
Instead, he had a modern iPhone in his pocket, a fancy new watch - a ridiculous thank you gift on behalf of Mason Industries - on his wrist, and a nervous throb in his gut that had nothing to do with formulating a mission to stop Rittenhouse from screwing up another historical event.
That thought brought a small smile to his face despite the swell of rumbling adrenaline in his system. The nervous throb in his gut definitely had nothing to do with formulating a mission to stop Rittenhouse, because there was no mission to stop Rittenhouse anymore. He wasn't naive enough to believe that the shadow organization was incapable of sprouting back to life somewhere down the line, but things were definitely looking up for the time being. Emma hadn't survived their encounter in '75, Carol was officially incarcerated, and Homeland Security had made damn sure that there was no Mothership or Lifeboat left to be stolen at this point. Their days of time travel were officially behind them.
And Wyatt almost hated to admit it, but this was turning out to be one hell of a Merry freakin' Christmas.
For all of his usual bah humbugging around the holidays, this year was so undeniably different that he couldn't even pretend to be grumpy or disinterested. A jazzy rendition of 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas' was drifting toward him from inside the ornate banquet hall, reminding him that his usual troubles really were out of sight...and that maybe, just maybe, the fates would allow them to all be together through the years. God, he really hoped so.
Hope. Wyatt Logan had hope. It honestly still felt a little too good to be true.
His fingers closed over the delicate gold band in his hand before slipping it back into its hiding place. Just in time too, because Lucy chose that exact moment to come clattering out of the door behind him, two crystal glasses of spiked eggnog in hand. Her cheeks were pink already, whether from the cold or the merriment, he couldn't really tell.
"Hey," she smiled blithely, offering him a frosted glass. "You look awfully serious. Not enough eggnog in you yet, soldier."
He took the drink from her hand with a look of suspicion. "That was an intentional choice. Isn't this stuff supposed to be disgusting?"
Lucy pressed a hand over her heart, an exaggerated gasp spilling out of her with a puff of visible air. "Don't tell me you've never had eggnog before."
"Sorry to disappoint," he shrugged noncommittally, "but I have no memory of ever trying it."
"Well there's no time like the present, now is there?"
She raised her glass with a saucy smile - one that told him there was a very intentional double meaning lurking in her words - and as per usual, he was incapable of resisting the compelling combo of her red lips and sparkling eyes. Wyatt clinked his glass against hers and took a tentative sip.
Then almost spit it right back out all over her.
"Whoa," he rubbed his hand across his mouth after forcing down a difficult swallow, as if that could eradicate the entire experience. "Am I supposed to drink it or chew it?"
She laughed unreservedly, her head tilting back with the force of her amusement. "It's not that bad, Wyatt."
"Uh yes, it really is and you know it. You're only downing this for the..." he peered dubiously into the frothy beverage, "...rum?"
"Among other things," she answered, still laughing at him as she leaned closer, the fingers of her free hand dipping into his jacket pocket to lure him closer.
He took the cue and readily wrapped an arm around her, kissing the giggles away from that taunting red mouth of hers. It wasn't long before she was melting into him like a thawing snowflake, all traces of hilarity replaced with a low hum of contented enchantment that radiated from her lips to his. As always, her very presence brought a contagious incandescence with it, automatically lifting him from the pit of his churning apprehension.
When he pulled back to look at her, he was feeling more than a little smug at the faraway preoccupation glinting in her expression. "How much of that stuff have you downed, Luce?"
"Not much at all." She narrowed her dark eyes skeptically. "Why? You monitoring my intake tonight? This is a party, you know."
"Just checking," he said a little too quickly, then found himself laughing stupidly as his own lack of tact. He should be better at this by now, but God was that ever far from the truth.
Lucy's mouth popped open to question him further, but he cut her off before she could get any further.
"Look, it's not...I just want to talk to you about something, okay? Something that requires a certain level of sobriety."
"Okay...is it something that would explain why you've been standing out here on your own - looking like the ghost of Christmas past, I might add - instead of having a front row seat to witness Rufus destroying everyone else on the dance floor during 'All I Want For Christmas Is You'?"
The woman missed nothing, did she? But he'd known that, banked on it even.
"Yeah it would, although now I'm really hoping that there will be an encore of that particular performance," he answered sincerely, both eyebrows raised at the visual she'd painted for him.
"I'm pretty sure there's about a dozen cell phone recordings floating through cyberspace right about now." She glanced backward through the set of glass-paned double doors with a smile. "Plus he's just getting started in there. Rufus is the one who's been knocking back the eggnog like a real party animal. Odds are definitely in your favor."
"In more than one way, I hope."
Her cinnamon gaze whipped back to his in an instant. "Okay, what gives? Spill it, sweetheart."
Wyatt took both of their glasses and settled them on the nearest patio table, then drew her closer to the railing with his hands interlaced in hers. He watched the blurring rush of traffic below them, his mind momentarily straying to another night, one that had occurred more than seventy years ago but simultaneously felt like just yesterday to him. A different party, a smaller balcony, another twinkling city...but the same beautiful woman who'd unexpectedly stolen his heart with an unavoidable one-two punch of snappy comebacks and potent hugs.
"There's a particular topic that we've been very carefully avoiding lately," he said gently, immediately picking up on the shadow of a frown gathering between her eyebrows. "And I know it's - "
"Do we have to do this tonight?" she asked in a thin, panicky voice. "This is supposed to be fun, Wyatt. All things merry and bright. Feliz Navidad. Deck the halls and - "
"Lucy," he implored softly, gripping her hands that much more solidly as she tried to peel herself away from him.
"No, dammit, have you not a heard a single song playing in there? Are you immune to Brenda Lee? To the sentimental feeling? The silver and gold? I want to be jolly. Let me jolly."
He almost broke right there and skipped everything else he'd prepared. Her shining eyes were no longer filled with glee, but rapidly sinking in gathering tears instead, and he felt like a first-class jackass for not foreseeing how she'd interpret his well-rehearsed opening line. He scrambled for a way to turn it around, but there was only one simple solution that came to mind, and he went for it with abandon. An insistent hand slid through her hair and propelled her forward into a brazen kiss that left her just as speechlessly wide-eyed as the first time he'd done such a thing with Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow staring at them from across the room.
"This will be jolly and sentimental and merry," he exhaled against her lips, feeling a little wide-eyed himself. "I promise, okay? Just hear me out."
She nodded hesitantly, clutching his jacket between her fingers like it was her only lifeline. "I'm listening."
"This last month or so has been..." he paused, throat closing up for just a second until he could power through it, "...it's been better than anything I had ever hoped for at this point in my life. Just being with you every day, no stress, no time travel, no Rittenhouse? It's almost been perfect."
"Almost?" she asked with a twinge of halfhearted sarcasm.
"Almost," he confirmed with a nod, "because we both know it's temporary and neither one of us are doing a good job of pretending to enjoy it while it lasts. Which is why we need to discuss it, Luce. I don't want to have this uncertainty hanging over our heads for another second, because that will really get in the way of all that holly jolly Christmas crap that I'm sure you'll have hidden up your sleeve for the next week and a half."
She pressed her lips together in a lopsided grin. "Who, me?"
"Yeah," he chuckled, lowering his head just enough to leave a quick kiss on her forehead. "You're hardly subtle, ya know?"
She scoffed indignantly but made no further protest. "So please rip off the band-aid already. Do you know where you're going next? Have they already given you new orders?"
Wyatt shook his head, his eyes locked on hers without reservation, most likely giving her the exact look that had supposedly earned him the reputation of being 'intense.'
"I've been discussing a possible reassignment with my superiors. Nothing is official yet because...because there was something I needed to do first."
He was met with nothing but silence. Lucy stared up at him, clearly holding her breath for how alarmingly rigid her body was, her eyelashes beating together rapidly as she waited for him to go on.
"When I think about the person I was before I met you, Lucy, I see someone who was completely lost. I was bitter, lonely, impulsive..."
"Reckless," she supplied with a tiny smile.
He laughed quietly, his thumb smoothing over her knuckles. "Yeah, and a real hothead too from what I've heard. But for whatever reason, that never seemed to faze you. You've somehow taken it upon yourself to accomplish the one thing I was sure could never be possible - you've shown me that I have an entire life ahead of me, that there's still something left to live for. And while there will always be so much I don't understand about all of it - fate, loss, death - I am sure that this is what Jess would have wanted for me."
Wyatt took a short step backward, holding firm to Lucy's hand as he reached into his pocket.
"Looking back from that first trip to the Hindenburg until now, I've really only gained more questions than I have answers. But when I look at you, Lucy, it's like the whole universe comes into focus. I don't doubt you. I don't doubt us. Maybe in the grand scheme of things we haven't been together for very long, but from where I'm standing, it feels like I've already loved you for a few centuries."
He shot her a wry grin, one that she hastily returned despite the first teardrop beginning to make its way down her cheek. The grin on her face promptly evaporated, however, once he dropped down onto one knee. She covered her gaping mouth with her free hand, whispering his name in a staggering sigh.
"Now that we're done worrying about the past, I want to ask you if you'll spend your future with me." He freed the ring from the folds of his pocket, only fumbling ever so slightly as he grasped it between his thumb and index finger. "I decided to skip the box this time...we'd really be screwed if I dropped it from a second story balcony above the streets of downtown San Francisco, wouldn't we?"
She nodded, hand still clapped over her mouth, expelling several more tears from her enormous eyes as she blinked down at him.
Unnerved by her silence and beginning to question the wisdom of proposing in front of an entire row of windows - windows that potentially exposed him to all of their friends and coworkers if they happened to spare a glance in their direction - Wyatt scraped the last few words together and delivered them with what hopefully came across as something resembling confidence. "I love you so much, Lucy. So what do you say? Will you marry me?"
He wanted to hear one word, just one simple word made up of three vitally important letters.
Lucy dropped her hand away from her face and furrowed her brow with a sniffle. "And then what...? You go off all over the world and...and I just...wait?"
Wyatt tried to swallow, but the effect was like shoving gravel into a blender. "Maybe I wasn't clear. I'm not going anywhere, not unless that's something we decide on together. I want to be wherever you are, permanently. Whether that means transferring, instructing full-time, or finishing out and - "
"Really? No bullshit?" she broke in on a tattered breath.
It had been the very last question he'd expected tonight, and he loved her that much more for always keeping him guessing, throwing his own words back in his face as often as she could get away with it.
Which was always. She could get away with anything and they both knew it.
"No bullshit. I'm open to the possibilities - all of them, as long as you're with me."
"Yes," she chirped out with a sob and a smile, hopping up and down on her heels. "Oh my God, yes!"
"Thank God," he grinned, tears beginning to blur in his own eyes as he watched her bounce with glee. "Okay, I need you to hold still for a second, please. Kinda hard to put a ring on a moving target."
Lucy made a sniffling noise that was part chuckle, part scoff. "And here I thought that was exactly what a Delta Force operative was trained to do."
She held still as he'd requested despite the sass, gripping his shoulder with her right hand as she extended the left, but there was still an adorable tremble lingering through her that she couldn't tame. And then quite suddenly, her entire frame went stock-still once he'd finally wrangled her twitching ring finger into submission.
Wyatt glanced up at her, immediately identifying the crinkled concentration in her gaze as she stared down at the diamond. It was the curiosity of a scholar.
"Go ahead," he breathed out with a patient smile, standing up and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You know you want to ask."
Her lips quirked upward in bashful acknowledgement for being caught so easily. Then her attention turned back to the Art Deco ring that was now perched on her slim finger. "Where...where did you get this? It looks like an antique, but..."
"But it also looks new? That's because it's about 85 years old, but has really only existed for less than 10."
Recognition began to burn in Lucy's steady gaze, but he could tell that she still wasn't quite buying it. "So you're saying..."
"I brought it home from Paris, Luce. I know you're not wild about the idea of disturbing the stream of time by transporting objects from the past, but - "
"You bought this ring in 1940?!" There was really no telling if the escalating disbelief in her voice was the sign of a good or bad reaction, but then she was cry-laughing with even more enthusiasm than before, her arms winding around his neck as she began bouncing up and down again. "Oh my God, you bought this ring in 1940! Wait...we - we had only just slept together when you bought this ring?! You - you seriously did that?"
He couldn't help but laugh at her whirling train of thought. "Kinda crazy, I know, but I was on a bit of a high when I woke up that morning."
She drew back, her eyelashes clumping together with tears, her smile more dazzling than all of the Christmas lights in the entire Bay Area put together. "I love you, Wyatt. We might both be crazy, but I was sure of it long before Paris, and I - I love you."
She pressed herself up against him and kissed him, breathing all of her perpetual cheer right into him, leaving him feeling more merry and bright than he'd even known possible. And through the various layers of clothing between them - his shirt and suit jacket, her peacoat and the party dress beneath it - Wyatt would have sworn that he could feel her heartbeat crashing against his over and over again.
"Wait, wait," she pulled back with a surge of frantic energy, both hands flitting over her wool coat in search of her phone. "I have to call Amy, I need to tell her - "
Wyatt seized both of her wrists with a knowing smile. "That actually won't be necessary."
He almost erupted with laughter at her scolding look. "Uh, actually, telling my sister is absolutely - "
"I know, trust me, I know," he grinned, "but what I'm trying to say is that it won't require a phone call. Look."
With his hands still wrapped around her wrists, he swiveled her body a few degrees to the right and tipped his head toward the walkway that extended from the Bently's terrace to form a small bridge over the bustling street, connecting their building to the adjacent block on the other side. Amy waved an eager hand over her head, smiling elatedly as she held onto the gleaming Nikon camera poised in her other hand.
"She saw the whole thing and has it all on - "
But Lucy was already gone, calling out to her sister over the blare of traffic until they could meet halfway on the bridge in an endearingly clumsy hug.
He shook his head with a grin before turning just in time to see Rufus flying through the glass doors to crush Wyatt in a congratulatory bear hug of his own.
Yeah, it seemed as if the fates were definitely granting him that Merry Little Christmas after all.
this chapter was brought to you by super premature Christmas music (because I wrote this in September LOL)
Just one more to go - the epilogue!