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How can you just walk away from me
When all I can do is watch you leave?
'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain
And even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all
He wakes up… in a hospital? A real hospital? He glances around and sure enough that's exactly where he is. Annoyingly loud machines, hovering nurses and doctors, tubes where they shouldn't be, and Lucy Preston curled up in a chair in the corner, snoring ever so slightly. He tries to call out to her but his throat feels like sandpaper rubbing against gravel.
"You're awake," a beaming Rufus greets as walks into the small hospital room with coffee in hand. "Was starting to worry we'd lost you for good." Wyatt casts a a playful glare his way before managing to croak out. "Water, man."
"Oh duh," the pilot laughs, running out the room for a brief moment before returning with a bottle of water. It burns going down his throat, but it's not an unfamiliar feeling. "How you feeling?"
"Like I was shot," he chuckles before bringing the bottle back to his lips. "Twice." Rufus laughs along with him before gesturing over to Lucy. "You've been out two days and she has not left once. When Homeland Security came and told her she needed to be debriefed about the whole mission, she told them no. Told freaking Homeland Security that they could debrief her here or not at all, and that's exactly what they did. Begrudgingly, sure, but Denise pulled rank." His heart warms at the thought. That's my girl. He looks over at her again. She really was everything.
Then he remembers.
"Carol?" He asks. Rufus grimaces and shakes his head. "But if it makes you feel any better, you got Emma and Flynn got Keynes. It wasn't exactly a picture perfect end, but it's over." Wyatt just nods solemnly, casting his gaze back over to the professor sleeping in the chair. She isn't without some bruises and scrapes herself, but thankfully it doesn't seem to be much beyond that.
"I'd be careful with her when she wakes up, Wyatt," he advises. "She's been through hell. I know you have a lot to say to her, but between Jessica, and Carol, and the loss of hope of getting Amy back, and you…" he just shakes his head. "You know her better than I do, but just be careful." Does he know her better anymore? After the forced distance they placed between each other, Wyatt wonders if he knows this Lucy at all. The Lucy who is so scarred from the battle she never wanted to be a part of in the first place. The Lucy who had her heartbroken again and again by her mother and a certain idiot soldier. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to hold the guilt at bay. It won't do them any good, but regardless Wyatt takes Rufus' words to heart. He knows he and Lucy are walking a thin line anyway, but with the loss of her mother, he doesn't know how much more she can take.
"I will, man. And… thank you for watching out for her." Rufus just nods before walking over to Lucy.
"Hey, he's awake," Rufus whispers, gently nudging her shoulders. She bolts up right in the chair. "It's okay, it's okay!" He grabs her arms to settle her. "You just asked me to wake you up when Wyatt did, so…" he gestures over to where Wyatt is sitting up in his hospital bed. "Now that my part of the job is finished I'm gonna go…umm... check on Flynn." He seems shocked to be even saying it, but nevertheless bows out of the room, leaving Lucy and Wyatt alone. The monitor gives away the increasing tempo of his heart.
"How ya feeling?" She asks awkwardly, knowing there's a lot more that has to be discussed.
"About as good as can be expected," he shrugs. "Ready to get out of here more than anything."
"You've been awake for all of 5 minutes and you're already ready to get out of here?" She asks quizzically, scooting her chair closer to the bed.
"Hospitals are not exactly my favorite place to be, Luce." He sees her visibly tense at the nickname, and he should have known better than to use it. Nothing else could remind them of that night anymore than the seemingly innocent nickname. It had left his lips so many times that night in 1941, and hasn't been spoke since. The invisible wall they were holding between them shatters. Time to put cards on the table.
"Wyatt—"
"Lucy, please, can I explain?" As if there is a way he could explain away all the hurt, the heartache that he had caused, but she sits back and nods her head.
"I know that there are no words I can say now to take away all that I did. I see now how blind I was to so many things, and I'm not going to try and excuse any of it. All I can ask for now is forgiveness, a second chance, a fresh start to be what we used to be. Please, Lucy, can you forgive me? Can we try again?" Her eyes shut tight and she bows her head.
"Did you mean what you said… back in 1877?" She breathes. "Was it real?"
"Lucy, with the life we've been living the past 4 years, I've lost all grips on what's real… except for that. You're the most real thing that's ever been in my life, so yes I meant exactly what I said," he confesses, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear before running his fingers across her porcelain cheek. She leans into his touch but quickly flinches away. She seems at a loss, like she's warring with herself, and he so badly wish she would allow him to battle alongside her.
"Wyatt…" she whispers. "I—I need…" she takes a deep breath. "I need time."
"Because of…" he swallows hard. "Jessica or…?"
"Yeah that has a lot to do with it, but it's everything really. My mom, Jessica, Amy, you, Rittenhouse, it was all just so much. I think I need some time to just… adjust to a life beyond all that, and I think you do as well. I'm not the only one who suffered, and it wouldn't be good for either of us to try and start something when neither of us are even remotely healed." He wants to argue, tell her that she's his best medicine, that she is the only reason he healed the first time, but this is his fault, his doing. She stepped back for him to pursue his marriage, no matter how much of a sham it turned out to be, and now it's his turn to step back for her, to give her the time she needs to do whatever it is she needs to do.
"Take all the time you need, Lucy." He tentatively takes her hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she doesn't pull away. "I'll be here. I mean," he adds playfully. "Not in a hospital hopefully, but… you get the idea." That earns him a brief chuckle followed by one of her knowing smirks, but it drops almost as quickly as it appeared.
"I can't promise anything," she warns, not meeting his eyes. "And I wouldn't want you to put your life on hold for me, Wyatt. That's not fair to you." Again he wants to argue and tell her that he will put his life on hold and wait for her until his last day. How could a man fall for anyone else when he's had the best? What other woman could compare to Lucy Preston? But he doesn't say it. That's too much pressure on her. For the first time in four years she no longer has the weight of the world pressing down on her, and he intends to keep it that way. So he channels all his heartache into one question, makes his bet, a smaller one than he would like, and shows his hand:
"Are we still… Lucy and Wyatt?" He hopes she understands. Are they still the duo from before 1941? Before Logan and Preston. Best friends, partners, two people who understood each other in ways no one else would understand. Everything they shared, the ups and downs, they built something that no one else would be able to emulate. He can't lose that. If he can keep his best friend, he knows they'll be okay. She squeezes his hand.
"I don't think I could have it any other way," she smiles, but her eyes are brimmed with tears. Before he has a chance to get another word out, a flood of nurses and doctors come in, shocking them out of their bubble, followed by a couple of suits who Wyatt assumes are Homeland Security. "I should go," Lucy whispers. "I'll see you later, okay?" And again before he can say anything, she's walking out of the room, leaving him with a gaping expression. He wins this bet, so he doesn't understand why he still feels so empty.
So take a look at me now
Well there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
