In the clear morning light Lucy stood in front of a clock maker's display window and watched the pendulums swing back and forth on their ornate time pieces. Refocusing on her reflection in the glass she looked at the woman before her and wondered what the day would bring. She was rested, was clean, was fed, but anxiety was still clearly etched across her pale features. After an interesting evening where she and Flynn had both grown talkative and put aside their differences, Flynn had awoken taciturn from a night spent tossing and turning in the chair by the fire. She knew he had been restless since she had spent most of the night herself awake wondering what Flynn was going to share with her once the sun rose. She had pondered whether or not Amy still existed somewhere, somehow, although she had her doubts. She had tried to fathom why Rittenhouse would want her dead. In her head she played back Anthony's words and wondered why she was so important both to Flynn and this mysterious group that both he and Anthony belonged to. Movement on the glass in front of her caught her eye and she watched the reflection of Garcia Flynn at the book and newspaper seller as he looked over the papers the man had to offer. Following his movements her mind drifted back to last night.

Dinner had started off as strained inane conversation followed by periods of equally strained silence. As the meal had progressed, they worked their way through several courses and two bottles of strong local wine. It seemed that each of them was finding solace from their mutual situation in the bottom of their wine glasses. The waiters had been attentive and made sure those glasses were never empty for long. Conversation had become easier, and as more wine was brought they relaxed and grew to know more about each other as people and not as opposing sides of a strange war. While some facts about the other were common place, such as favorite color and whether coffee or tea was preferred, others were more personal. Flynn seemed amused by Lucy's guilty pleasure of British boy bands and Lucy had been surprised at Flynn's secret love of science-fiction novels.

Lucy was taken aback, setting down her glass to really look at him across the table in the dim lamplight. "I thought you wanted to be a cowboy when you grew up!"

"Yes, for a time. And then I discovered Star Trek reruns and I decided I wanted to be an astronaut." he said, his eyes crinkling up as a genuine smile lit his face.

As dessert was brought and they continued to converse Lucy was struck by how normal this all felt to her. That if she closed her eyes she could have easily imagined herself back in her own time and Garcia Flynn, wanted terrorist, was someone that her friends had fixed her up with in their on-going effort to get her out of her office and into the local dating scene. They rarely succeeded. The last dud was some guy named Noah. That had been an awkward date. She smiled down at her plate, blushing; if they had tried with Flynn, she might have taken the bait. She had to admit that he was charming and under different circumstances she would have found him very attractive with his green eyes, dark hair, and tall athletic build. However as she got to know him she realized that he was also intelligent, thoughtful, and when he relaxed, had a sense of humor.

She brought her mind back to the present. But no matter how charming I may find him at this moment, he still kidnapped me, she thought. He is still a killer and has been disrupting history right and left. She sighed and refocused her eyes on the swinging pendulums of the clocks before her.

Flynn stared at the various newspapers available to him, surprised that the seller in a mountain town had more than one variety. Some were older copies from larger cities such as Paris, Milan, and Vienna, and at least a month old. Not really seeing them his mind wandered back to the strained breakfast they had this morning and its contrast to last night's dinner. Dinner made all too plain to him how easily he could slip back into being part of a couple and that had no part in his plans against Rittenhouse nor for himself personally.

Flynn covertly looked at Lucy as she finished her dessert. Dinner had started rough but over the course of the meal they had started to form a rapport. He had always found her easy to talk to. He found himself smiling more, revealing things about himself that he had forgotten, even laughing at her bad jokes. She had always been able to make him laugh and the previous Lucys had gone out of their way to tell him corny jokes just to see him smile. In turn, he found out more about this Lucy and her life. Some of the differences between this Lucy and the others surprised him, although she still loved that awful Eighties music. The whole experience was warm, and comfortable, and strange all at the same time. Dinner had been like slipping into a favorite pair of worn shoes that had just been unearthed after years of being in the back of the closet. It felt too good, and that feeling was letting loose too many memories best left in the past.

The news seller coughed and he came back to the present. Seeing that he was holding the Paris paper he quickly folded it in half and paid the man. This one would do just as well as the others; he really didn't care about reading the news - it was all old to him anyhow. He just needed a prop for their walk in the park. He needed something to read while Lucy finally read 'her' journal. It was time.

Glancing over to where Lucy stood before the clockmaker's store front he had to remind himself that she was not like the Lucys from before. They had all been subtly different. His solemn expression turned sad. He realized when they met at the Hindenburg that there was very little chance of this Lucy ever really becoming his friend. He had done too much. He was too different and too damaged now. When she learned the truth about him, about Rittenhouse, about his organization, and about herself, she could very well not want anything to do with any of it. He wouldn't; if he had a choice. He saw her face grow grave at some thought and knew it was time to get the day, and the explanations, moving. Sighing, he plastered a smile back on his face and walked over to her; they were playing husband and wife after all, and he had to look the part, regardless of how much it hurt.

Shaking herself out of her reverie she saw Flynn make his selection and pay the seller. Folding the newspaper under his arm he crossed the street to her side.

"See anything interesting?" he asked, indicating the clocks in the window. He was trying, but his tone was tense.

"No… yes, they're interesting, but no. I was just thinking." she glanced up at his profile. He hadn't shaved this morning and she found it oddly attractive.

"You look good with a bit of scruff." Had that really come out of her mouth? She turned back to the window to study the clocks hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping across her cheeks.

He reached up and felt his jaw line, surprised, yet somehow pleased, she had noticed. "I didn't think a straight razor today was a good idea." he said dryly. He glanced over to see her still studying the clocks before her and noticed the slight flush on her face. His smile became more genuine as he extended his arm to her, "Shall we start the day?"

Smiling faintly, she took the offered arm and they strolled off towards the waterfront and the park. For a time they walked in strained silence. He really didn't want to have to go through with this; he knew her world would be shattered by the end of the day.

Gathering his courage he started. "I apologize about breakfast being so quiet. I was still trying to figure out how to begin this little discussion. Also, I waited till now to say anything to you because I didn't want to be overheard." he said, as they strolled down the street leading to the lakeside.

"OK. So now can you tell me about the other Lucys and can you tell me if there's a chance Amy still exists somewhere?" she asked in a breathless rush. Breakfast had been strained and Lucy had been longing to ask him about her sister since they both awoke.

"I can, and I know you want to know that information now, but let me start at a different part of the story so it all makes more sense." he responded. He was relieved when she nodded. Starting with her sister would be a bad idea.

"Rittenhouse, the organization, was founded by David Rittenhouse as you already know. Even though I shot him, I believe he was right that his organization will live beyond him. In my original timeline, in fact all the timelines so far, Rittenhouse has grown to be a vast underground organization bent on world domination through the subtle manipulation of events around them. They always work from the shadows until now. Never overtly. However, they have had a hand in most of the horrible events that have occurred in Western history."

Although his gaze was fixed on the street in front of them, his peripheral vision caught her nod of understanding. He continued, turning them into the waterfront park.

"Rittenhouse has had a direct hand in things like the Armenian Genocide of the early 20th century, the Trail of Tears in America, the conquest of Hawa'ii, the slave trade from Africa during America's colonial period, the 9-11 bombings, and the assassination of King Ferdinand of Belgium kicking off World War I, just to name a few."

"What about World War II?" she asked quietly as they passed a knot of people chatting by the park entrance.

Flynn nodded to them and once they were pass he continued, "Hmm? Oh, they were completely responsible for World War I, but not the second World War. There is evil enough in the world without them. Sometimes they just take advantage of that evil and exacerbate it. For example, they placed people close to Hitler; they encouraged him to go after more than just the Jews, the sympathetic, the Gypsies, the Armenians. They had people close to Lenin and Stalin also. Rittenhouse helped to erect the Iron Curtain."

Lucy nodded again. "OK. So Rittenhouse is completely evil. Got it."

"Through it all, their organization has had chroniclers… historians - if you will, who have recorded their story and then analyzed it to see how Rittenhouse's cause could have been furthered in the past. When leadership saw a clear pattern they started to look to how they could improve upon their present course."

"I think I see where this is going."

"Do you? Yes, well, you are now quite familiar with Conner Mason and his little pet project. With Rittenhouse funding, through shell corporations, they were now going to be able to go back in time and accomplish their mission sooner. Change the past so that the present can be altered. That's what they set out to do."

"I understand. But what does that have to do with me?" Lucy glanced up at him.

"I know that your mother has finally told you about your biological father." he said carefully, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, a man named Benjamin Cahill." Lucy looked confused.

Flynn paused, wet his lips and searched for the right words. "He is this generation's direct descendant of the charming David Rittenhouse…. And you are Benjamin Cahill's eldest child."

"What?" she exclaimed. Lucy stopped dead in her tracks, turning to stare at him open-mouthed. Others on the walkway stopped to stare at them.

Flynn glanced around quickly at the people nearby. Smiling down at her through clenched teeth he said for the passersbys, "I told you that we'd have to cut our vacation short, dear." Lucy's eyes were wide with shock and her face was rapidly losing its color. He put his arm around her afraid she might faint.

Propelling her forward on the walk he nodded casually to an elderly couple passing them in the opposite direction. Once out of earshot he continued, "Your mother, a very adept historian in her own right, had been specially selected by Mr. Cahill in an effort to supply Rittenhouse with another historian. You have to admit that with your passion for history, you see right behind the facts to the underlying story within. That is what they are after. Another historian." He sighed and his hand covered hers where it lay on his arm. "Your mother was a very convenient brood mare." he finished gently, trying to take the sting from his blunt words.

"But how.. .why… ?"

"Let me finish explaining and hopefully this will all be clear. When Anthony and I started traveling back in time to chip away at Rittenhouse we discovered that when certain things were changed, when certain people lived or died, the present we came home to had been altered. I know you noticed that after the Hindenburg..." he trailed off, not wanting to bring up the subject of her sister again until later.

"I have." she murmured, thinking of Amy.

"Most of the things that changed were inconsequential to us. You were one thing that was not. I'm sure there were other things changed… but you were what mattered to m-, to us, to our organization." He hoped that she didn't notice his gaff.

Lucy walked beside him in stunned silence, her grip on his arm tight. He continued, "In my original time line, your parents married. You… I mean Lucy One, worked as House Historian for Rittenhouse. She never really knew what they were. She thought they were some sort of world wide charitable organization…. Like the Masons, the Salvation Army, or the Knights of Columbus." He paused and cleared his throat, "She inadvertently let something slip outside of Rittenhouse, and was killed for it." He cleared his throat, "Not just her, but her family. Killed." he finished, his voice low and harsh.

They walked on for a time. Flynn didn't speak, giving Lucy time to digest. Although he himself needed time to regain control of himself.

After a time he spoke again, "When we came back from one particular trip we found Lucy alive, but working as a double agent, already inserted into our organization busy helping us. That was Lucy Two. In that timeline both sides had the time machine and she was busy compiling the journal I now have."

"But how?" Lucy asked, her voice strained, "How could history change so much?"

"Imagine time as one large tapestry. Imagine that tapestry made of millions of threads, millions of people. Each person makes millions of choices that effect those touching him. If I go back in time and cut short one thread, that person can't make their choices that affect other people's choices, and so on… until you reach the present. And the present is then different from what you remember." He glanced over at Lucy. She clung to his arm as if he were the only thing solid in her world. He realized that he probably was at the moment although he knew he was certainly not her choice of solid rocks.

They strolled a little further before he spoke again. "Lucy Two was killed in the past on a mission. Before she was killed, she took out other key members of Rittenhouse. She was trying to undo the damage that Rittenhouse was wreaking upon history. Things had already started to change drastically. The last thing she did was give me her journal. It chronicled all the changes that she personally had wrought and some changes she thought would be necessary. When we came back to the present, everything had changed again, but not all of it was for the better." He sighed in frustration remembering the chaos of that time and how many jumps he and Anthony had had to make to rectify the damage Rittenhouse was inflicting.

By this time they had walked to the end of the park and they stood by the water's edge for a moment. The sunlight glinted on the lake. In the distance a boat could be seen bobbing on the water. Birds called out to each other in the trees overhead. He collected his thoughts and said, "Those people we had killed ended up being meaningless. Rittenhouse hadn't changed and while Lucy was once again alive, she had no knowledge of Rittenhouse, of our organization, of anything. Her parents had never married. In fact, her mother had never told Cahill of the pregnancy. Lucy was happy, although somewhat estranged from her mother, working at Stamford as a History teacher. Modern Rittenhouse discovered her existence and knowing that it was too late to bring her into their midst, they staged her death… car accident. That was Lucy Three." He turned from the water and lead them over to a secluded bench.

Lucy sat down in a daze. "I had a car accident. I lived."

"You did; remember every action in the past affects the present. Some of the events of your life have been the same for all of the Lucys. Your parents have never, could never, change. Some of the choices you made have been the same choices the other Lucys have made. Wasn't your car accident because of an argument you had with your mother?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

"She didn't want me taking the job at Stamford." she said quietly, obviously lost in thought. Flynn nodded to a governess as she trailed behind two young boys running by. He turned to look at Lucy. Her face was troubled and she stared at her hands in her lap, absently twisting the ring on her finger. Flynn noticed the gesture and closed his eyes in pain. Things, like mannerisms and speech patterns, were the same through all the Lucys. The closer he drew to this Lucy the more those little things had become increasingly hard for him to cope with. He opened his eyes when she spoke.

"I don't remember how I lived through that. When I regained consciousness the EMTs told me I had been pulled from the water by a good Samaritan. He left the scene without giving his name."

"That was me. Anthony made sure that I was there this time."

"You?" She turned and looked at him, eyes wide.

He paused, and looked at his own hands, and choosing his next words carefully, "Our organization didn't want you dieing again. You really are too valuable to both sides."

"The EMTs said I had… died. The… the Samaratin was giving me chest compressions when they arrived on the scene." she said, her mind going back to that day, struggling to remember the sequence of events.

Flynn stared out at the water again reliving that awful moment. Her 'accident' had been so emotionally draining for him….he had struggled to get her out of the water and she had been cold, wet, and lifeless in his arms. Through the minutes of chest compressions he had been certain another Lucy would die in his arms. And then leaving her, like that, when the EMTs finally arrived. Anthony had taken one look at him and hopped the mother-ship to a far off location, dragging him into the closest bar he could find. He didn't look at her, not wanting to see whatever was in her eyes, not wanting her to see what was in his.

Flynn found his voice, "I did. Like I said, you're valuable to both sides. You see patterns. We need to know where, and how, to snip those threads to do away with Rittenhouse once and for all."

For a time they sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as the sun moved slowly across the sky. As a breeze picked up, making the water dance before them, Lucy spoke, "So if events change and alter each time these threads are cut… what does that mean for Amy?" she turned and faced him, her face earnest. "Can we alter things so that she exists again?" she asked, coming back to the question that had plagued her since landing here in 18th century France.

Flynn looked at the hope in her eyes. He sighed and picked up her hand where it sat in her lap.

"No."

"But you said-" she started angrily, yanking her hand away.

He talked over her, desperate for her to understand, anger at his inability to play God leaking into his voice. "I know what I said, but despite my best efforts, I can't change other people's choices. Your mother chose to marry your father twice. Twice she didn't. Once she stayed single, once she married your step-father. In fact, your name hasn't even been Lucy through all this. Last time your name was Lucille."

"That was my grandmother's name." Lucy replied, tears forming in her eyes. "So there's no way to bring Amy back?" she asked desperately.

"She's not coming back." he replied flatly, his jaw muscles jumping. He stared out at the water.

Lucy's face clouded, "But you keep saying you're trying to bring your wife…" she trailed off, a stray thought crossing her face. Her eyes refocused on his profile and she continued, "You keep saying your family will come back." She stared at him angrily despite tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "Why do you keep saying this if it's not true." she hissed quietly as a gentleman strolled past. She turned her face away to hide her tears.

Flynn nodded to the man as if they were just a couple enjoying the sunshine on a late summer day. The man tipped his hat and continued past. Flynn's eyes stayed on the man.

"When you kept talking about your family… I believed you. I believed I could get Amy back." her voice broke. After a moment she whispered, "Why? Why would you say that?"

He sighed deeply, "Because of the Rittenhouse spy." he replied, just as quietly.

"Who?", she sniffed.

He glanced back over at her to see if she was angry or in tears. Anger he could handle. Her tears, well, those he had never been able to handle. He took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. The gesture brought a watery smile to her face.

"Who carries a handkerchief anymore?" she asks as she wipes her face.

A small smile crosses his face but never makes it to his eyes, "I do. You don't see many disposable ones floating around in the late 18th century, do you Professor?"

He shifted back towards her on the bench, his arm extending along the seat back between them.

"So, the spy?" she asked again.

"That dufus I keep dragging around through time." At Lucy's look of confusion he elaborated, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" As she nodded her comprehension he continued, "We've known that Rittenhouse inserted a spy amongst our ranks a while ago. We never exposed him so that Rittenhouse wouldn't send another. I've made him my 'right hand man', my 'Wyatt', if you will."

"Wyatt's not 'my man'" she scoffed as she wiped the last tear from her face. She looked down at her hands and twisted the ring on her finger again.

"No?" he responded, "You could have fooled me."

At her lack of response he continued, "Rittenhouse has a spy within our organization, and I didn't know if I could trust this you yet. One of the first rules of a good operative is disinformation. That's why I hadn't told you anything yet. I wanted to know if I could trust you."

"And do you?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I don't have a choice in the matter any longer. Anthony made sure of that." he said, evading both the question and her gaze.

"No, you made sure of that when you decided to kidnap me." she said pointedly.

"Not one of my finer moments," he agreed, tired of fighting over that issue.

"So what happens now?" she asked, her voice flat and hopeless sounding. "I'll never get my sister back." She looked at his profile. His eyes were sad. "You won't ever get your family back." She leaned back and closed her eyes, "Why are we even bothering with any of this?" she asked rhetorically.

"Because Rittenhouse has played puppet master too long. Because they took my life from me and I have no other reason to exist. Because… soon, in some fashion, they'll take your life. Because what they're doing… to humanity… it's not right and you know it."

Lucy didn't answer for a time, her eyes thoughtful as she worked something out. "How do I even know that anything you're telling me is the truth? How do I know that you aren't lying?"

He snorted derisively, shrugging. "You don't. The government, Rittenhouse, has seen to it that my name has been discredited." He pulled something out of one of his coat pockets. "I have proof. Your journal."

"Which could be a fake." she retorted.

"You'll see that it's not once you read it. It's all you." After a pause, "And I have documents, photos." he added reluctantly, patting the other coat pocket that held the leather wallet Anthony had given him. Lucy had noted that the wallet hadn't left his side since leaving the mother-ship. "… I'll show you back in the room."

At her raised eyebrow, he added dryly, "Flashing photos in public at the end of the 18th century wouldn't be prudent."

He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "I thought you might want to read your book in nicer surroundings." he said as he handed it to her. At her look of incredulity he added, "It makes no difference now… Whether you trust me or not. Your life is in danger. You might as well know everything that Lucy Two knew."

As Lucy took the book and opened it he settled himself against the bench's backrest, unfolded his newspaper, and pretended to read. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything but the woman beside him. He knew that she was having difficulty believing him, but would she believe herself?

A long hour later she closed the journal and looked up. Her movements roused him. He had been staring off across the lake remembering the first time he had been here.

"It's missing pages." Her voice was unemotional.

"I ripped out the last four pages. You can see them back in the room." he responded, not taking his gaze off the view.

"Why?" she asked, turning to him and handing him the journal.

"Why did I rip them out or why see them back in the room?" he prevaricated, not really wanting to answer either question.

"Both", she said pointedly.

He sighed as he stood and pocketed the journal. "Those pages are lists of people you, or Lucy Two, had in her life that she believed to be Rittenhouse. Some of those people exist in your life today. I thought you might not want to learn that information out here," he said, indicating the lakeside park and the world in general, "I thought you might want some privacy."

"That information can't be any more…." she searched for a word, "distressing, then what I've already learned." she said, rising to join him.

He shrugged, "Let me be the judge of that." He started to walk back towards the entrance of the park. "Why don't we find lunch and then go back to the room. I promise I'll tell you the rest of the story then."

She scoffed, but didn't argue the point with him. As he promised yesterday he had been forthcoming with what he perceived to be the truth. She wasn't going to push him. She was still unsure of the truth - of reality, even after reading what was supposed to be her own words. Well, not her words precisely, but her words nonetheless. The journal had been convincing, but she still wanted to see the rest of the information, the photos, the documents, that Flynn had with him. She wondered what more Flynn could possibly reveal and how bad it could possibly be. From his demeanor, the rest of her day wouldn't be any more pleasant than the morning. Knowing Rittenhouse, she was sure that the rest of the news would be bad.

Author's Note: You get extra points if you caught my reference to the wonderful story, "In Another Lifetime..." by Writingramblr. While not a direct spot of plagiarism, their story inspired my plot point regarding Lucy's car accident.