Lucy nestled deeper into the pile of leaves, breathing in the sweet aroma of the warm autumn day as she stifled back a giggle at the sound of Amy's frantic voice.
"Lucy?! Lucy, where are you!?"
After spending the entire day helping her father rake all of the leaves in their expansive California yard, Lucy was thoroughly depleted. Sure, she probably wouldn't be quite so exhausted if she and Amy hadn't spent half of the time destroying every last bit of progress they had made chasing each other one leaf laden armful at a time, but now? Now, she was done with play time. Now, she just wanted to rest.
"Lucy!"
Maybe, she thought, she should feel a little guilty, hiding as she was. The truth of the matter was that while she loved her little sister more than anything in the world, the age gap between them, at times, proved to be a little too much. Sometimes instead of playing Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers, she just wanted to be left alone. Besides, right now her head felt like it was splitting open and all she wanted was some peace and quiet…and rest. Lots and lots of rest.
"Oh shit! Lucy!"
"No…go away." Lucy moaned as she attempted to bury herself even deeper in the leaves, but even though she could still smell their sweet aroma, they were no longer piled in warm heaps around her. In fact, she didn't feel warm at all…she was cold. Very cold - becoming more and more aware of how very cold she was as Amy frantically massaged her arms and legs.
"C'mon Lucy." Amy urged in a voice that suddenly didn't sound like her own, "You need to get up."
Shaking her head, Lucy batted her hand away, "No." she murmured, "leave me alone."
"Lucy, c'mon." came the voice again, as a hand clasped over her own. "Shit, Rufus, she's freezing."
Rufus? The mention of that name, so foreign in her mind and yet…so familiar slowly pulled her back to full consciousness as she blinked her eyes open in confusion. "Wh…" Gone was the brilliant autumn sunshine of a California day in its place, looming high above her was a naked canopy of trees stretching towards a dark and heavily clouded sky…and someone, someone who was not Amy holding her hand.
"Lucy?!" Wyatt called, his hand dropping hers suddenly to cradle her head. Lucy blinked hard as his face swam into view, "Jesus," he breathed out in relief, "You gave me one hell of a scare there, ma'am."
"Wyatt?" she murmured, disbelieving, easing herself up to sit, "What…what happened?"
"We were going to ask you the same thing." Rufus offered, as Wyatt was back to busily clasping Lucy's hands in his own and blowing warmth into them. "What the hell happened to you? Last we saw you were kicking the hell out of some French soldier."
"I…I don't…I don't know…" she stammered, but the moment her eyes fell on the blood stains on the front of her dress, she gasped in horror, "what…what happened to me?"
"Uh…didn't we just ask you the same thing?" Rufus asked, casting a confused glance at Wyatt who paused in his desperate work momentarily to meet his eye with concern.
Determined more than ever to warm her, Wyatt attempted to quickly remove Lucy's soaking shoes and stockings. She, however, was wriggling away from him, trying but failing to get to her feet, "No," she moaned, "leave me alone….I need to find Amy."
"Shit." Wyatt breathed out in near panic as he fought against Lucy's attempts to brush him away.
Confused, Rufus shook his head, "Amy? What the hell…?
"Stop!" Lucy gritted out desperately trying to throw Wyatt's hands off of her, but the effort it seemed, was too much as she was now rolling over on her side and nuzzling back in the leaves again, "I'm so tired," she moaned
"Oh no you don't." Wyatt urged seriously, "Lucy, we need to get you warm and fast. C'mon you can't stay here."
"I'm fine." she dismissed, her voice slurring slightly, "Just…just leave me alone for a little bit. I just need to rest, that's all. I've been raking leaves all day." Shucking off his coat, Wyatt wrapped it around Lucy's shoulders and without warning, scooped her up into his arms, "Wy…what are you doing?" she murmured in annoyance, "I just want to sleep."
"You can sleep later." Wyatt gritted motioning for Rufus to follow as he made his way back down the forest trail, "You need to stay awake, you hear me? Stay awake."
"Wyatt…"
"I've got you ma'am." he assured her with a voice full of emotion, "I've got you…we're gonna get you warm, okay? But you need to stay awake until we do, you got that?"
She nodded before nuzzling closer to Wyatt, desperate for any amount of warmth she could get, but that only seemed to concern him more.
"Rufus," Wyatt called out in a panic, "Give me your coat…"
"It's freezing out here…"
" She's freezing, Rufus". he snapped, "And if we don't get her warm, she's…" he stopped, his voice trembling with emotion, "she's not gonna make it."
Obediently, Rufus shucked off his coat, jogging alongside Wyatt until he could drape it over Lucy's slim figure. "Just hang on, Lucy…okay?" Wyatt continued to her, "We're gonna get you warmed up in no time. Just…just hang on."
Practically jogging through the forest with a shivering Lucy in his arms, Wyatt raced over the heavily wooded hills and vales, ignoring Rufus' many protestations that they were going the wrong way when they came upon the small makeshift bridge Wyatt's team had built a few hours before. "I stand corrected." Rufus quipped sheepishly, rubbing his arms in the cold.
Ignoring him, Wyatt charged across the river, his eyes trained on the dark outlines of the small homestead that was to serve as their rendezvous point. He had hardly even noticed the sentry standing guard until he was called to a halt.
"Let me through," Wyatt spat out angrily, "She's gonna die if I don't get her by a fire soon."
"Wyatt? Is that you?" Daniel Boone rushed forward, favoring his right leg, "Gage thought for sure you had…Lord have mercy," he breathed out, staring at the bundle in Wyatt's arms, "Is that…is that…"
"It's Lucy." he replied, his voice quavering with emotion, "we have to get her warm."
"Of course," Boone replied, quickly urging him through the gate "get her inside. I'll get some whiskey."
"Not whiskey" Wyatt called after him, "coffee…she needs coffee."
Practically kicking open the door of the abandoned homestead, Wyatt sat Lucy down on a small, moth-eaten quilt before turning his attention to the fireplace. Abandoned for so long, there were no logs readily available to make a fire, so Wyatt, desperate for anything that would make for suitable kindling, smashed a rickety old table to bits and started tossing pieces into the fireplace…that is until Lucy shivered so violently she nearly fell off the bed.
"Shit," he breathed out as he crossed the room to hold her steady. Gathering her up in his arms again, he gently shook her awake, "Lucy…Lucy… I need you to…look at me, Lucy…look at me…I need you to just hang on a little longer….okay?
"I'm…I'm so co…cold, Wyatt," she murmured as her head lolled to the side.
"I know," he breathed out, casting a helpless glance towards the fireplace. It would take time to get a fire going that would sufficiently warm her…and time was exactly what he didn't have. "We need to get you out of those clothes, Lucy," he said seriously as he began pulling the frozen laces out of her bodice.
"Ugh…"
"Lucy!" Wyatt called, shaking her, "Stay with me…you hear me?"
"Yes, yes…I hear you." Lucy moaned in annoyance as she tried to bat his hand away from her. "I'm trying, okay? I just…I…what…what are you doing?"
"I'm getting you out of these clothes." Wyatt replied as he continued to pull at the strings of her bodice. "We need to get you warm, Lucy…which means you can't stay in this dress. Hell, it's practically frozen solid." Again, Lucy groaned but Wyatt wasn't relenting. Pulling her up to stand, Wyatt made quick work of her skirt and petticoat, yanking the blanket off the tiny bed to cover her as they fell to the floor in a stiffened heap.
"Got the coffee." Daniel Boone announced as he burst through the door, "Oh, begging your pardon," he stopped, flushing as he averted his eyes, "I didn't mean to…"
"It's fine." Wyatt dismissed, nodding for Boone to set the coffee down on the table beside them as he quickly worked to remove Lucy's bodice from her shoulders. "I need you to find me some warm clothes," he ordered, "blankets…anything you can spare."
"I don't know that I'll be able to find her a dress," Boone admitted, "but I think I might be able to secure a nightgown." Looking at Lucy's visage with concern, he offered tentatively, "Sh…should I fetch the doctor as well?" For the first time since he arrived, Wyatt actually looked at Daniel Boone, turning to the frontiersman with a look of helpless desperation as Lucy shivered violently in his arms. Nodding in understanding, Boone backed away, assuring Wyatt as he left, "I'll fetch the doctor…"
"Wait! Toss that in the fireplace," Wyatt called, nodding to the lantern Boone was holding aloft.
Immediately understanding Wyatt's reasoning, Daniel Boone quickly crossed to the fireplace and smashed the lantern inside, igniting the ruined table in a flash of kerosene and flame.
"I'll get you some more firewood," Boone promised as Wyatt moved Lucy closer to the fire.
Hardly acknowledging Boone as he left, Wyatt flung off the rest of her bodice, pulling the blanket up over her as he worked his hands over her arms and back. Her skin was ice cold to the touch and pale…which wasn't too unusual for Lucy, but in the firelight there was a gray tinge that was unmistakable.
Walking her back over to the bed, Wyatt eased her down and began working off her wet stockings. The left one came off with little fanfare, but when Wyatt went to remove the right, Lucy, who had been practically unresponsive, flinched away from him in pain...and Wyatt could immediately see why. All down the side of her right leg was a large scrape which was already enough to cause him a fair amount of concern and anger, but it was the state of her ankle that had him ready to track down whichever sonofabitch had taken off with her and beat the living shit of him.
"Jesus, Lucy," Wyatt breathed out incredulously, but once again, he noted, she had drifted off to sleep. "Don't you dare," Wyatt warned, shaking her. "You need to stay awake,…I mean it."
Lucy groaned again and attempted to turn away from him, causing the blanket to shift a little revealing her soaked chemise and corset. Wyatt, seeing that she was about to attempt to drift off to sleep again, pulled her to her feet, causing the blanket to fall from her completely.
Snatching it off the ground with a sigh, Wyatt went to readjust it over her nearly bare shoulders, when he was suddenly struck by how familiar this all seemed. Just him…Lucy…the firelight…and a desperate need to keep her warm.
Swallowing hard, he nodded, "I'll …um…get that corset off once we…um… get you some more clothes." That assurance, however, did little to quell the mounting anxiety in his chest…in truth, that promise only seemed to add to his growing discomfort…though for a very different reason than Lucy's health and well-being.
He stood there with her awkwardly, suddenly very much aware of how little she was wearing and while he knew, in this moment, his mind should not be planted in the gutter, it absolutely was…and he hated himself for it.
Wyatt muttered an apology as he stumbled away, kicking himself for every unholy thought that he had ever harbored for her as Lucy clutched the blanket around her shoulders, looking completely unaffected by Wyatt's sudden change in demeanor. In fact, she looked hardly bothered by anything…something Wyatt noted almost too late as Lucy suddenly swayed dangerously backwards.
Lunging forward, Wyatt caught her up in his arms and settled down with her on the floor, allowing her back to lean against his chest for support as he rocked her back and forth, desperately trying to rub warmth back into her ice-cold arms and hating himself for being so damn foolish, "Come on, Lucy…come on…" he murmured against her hair, fighting back tears as he tried to ignore the fact that she again, was almost completely unresponsive.
"How's it going?"
Rufus's voice sounded in the small cabin, but Wyatt didn't even pause in his ministrations as he wordlessly nodded for his friend to enter.
"I um…I got some blankets." he announced with a hopeful smile but as he made his way towards his huddled friends, his face dropped into a gaping stare. "Is she supposed to be that color?'
"What the hell do you think?" Wyatt snapped, "Just give her the damn blankets!" Anxiously, Rufus shook out blanket after blanket, lying them over a shivering Lucy who didn't even flinch as he worked to tuck them under her chin. "Here," Wyatt grunted as he pressed Lucy towards him, "Hold her for a minute."
Eyeing Wyatt curiously as he scrambled to his feet and began shucking off his shirt, Rufus tucked Lucy to his side, wrapping his arm around her side as he rubbed his hand up and down her arms as he saw Wyatt do. "Don't take this the wrong way, Lucy," he muttered with a smile, "but you don't look so great as a smurf. Seriously though," he continued in a grim voice, "I'm gonna need you to thaw out…like soon…" casting a glance over his shoulder at Wyatt who was busily shaking out the flannel nightgown, he whispered, "or else Wyatt is gonna lose it more than he already has."
Pressing a kiss to her temple, Rufus rocked her from side to side until Wyatt made his way back to the floor, kneeling beside her as held up the nightgown. "Okay….we need to get her out of that damn corset."
"Uh-huh," Rufus replied, staring up at him, "and how do you propose we do that? Isn't she supposed to be your wife? Shouldn't you be the one…you know…undressing her?"
"Dammit Rufus, this isn't the time for jokes. She's still in wet clothes and until she's out of them she's not going to get warm." With a nod of his head he directed Rufus to sit in front of Lucy as he removed the now thin damp blanket she had first covered herself with, he began working the strings of her corset. Once loosed, he pulled the bodice apart until the strings fell free from their grommets allowing him to pull it off completely by the side and toss it away. Using his knife, he cut her damp chemise at the shoulders, quickly pulling the quarters of the ruined fabric away as Lucy once again shuddered violently.
Without missing a beat, Wyatt immediately reached behind him and grabbed the heavy, flannel nightgown Rufus had procured. It was large…too large for Lucy's small frame, but it was warm…and that was all that mattered now. With Rufus's help, Wyatt slid the gown over her head, easing her arms into it before nodding at his friend to adjust the blankets enough so that the front could fall into place down her torso. The back of her gown, however, stayed up, held so by Wyatt's hand as he repositioned himself behind her.
"Uh…Wyatt…what the hell are you doing?" Rufus asked, eyeing him as he leaned Lucy's bare back against his bare chest.
"Jesus, Rufus," Wyatt groaned as he rolled his eyes, "I'm trying to get her warm. Skin to skin is a thing, okay? There's nothing funny about this."
"I wasn't saying it was funny …" he said meaningfully, but Wyatt merely glared at him as he gripped Lucy's waist trying to pull her into a more comfortable position. That action, however, prompted the first real response from Lucy since Wyatt had inadvertently touched her swollen ankle. Flinching violently, Lucy hissed in pain causing Wyatt to exchange a concerned glance with Rufus.
"Lucy?" Wyatt asked, but she merely dropped her head back against his shoulder and groaned. Dancing his fingers along her torso, he tapped looking for signs of bruising or a broken rib, but as his hand traveled down an inch or so on her left side, he stopped, his fingers tracing the outline of something that felt like…"What the hell?" Nodding to Rufus, Wyatt wordlessly ordered him to draw back the blanket enough to investigate. "There," Wyatt said as he circled the spot with his fingers, "what the hell is that?"
"Uh…" Rufus replied blankly, "a cut…a deep cut…like a….like a…."
"Stab wound." Wyatt gritted out, pulling Lucy closer with a huff, "Jesus Lucy, what did those assholes do to you?"
Again, Lucy didn't respond…she didn't have to. Wyatt could dream up a thousand different scenarios, each one more horrifying than the last….but right now he was more worried about saving her life. With a shaking hand he reached for the mug of coffee, not even flinching when drops of the hot liquid spilled out over his hand as he brought it to Lucy's lips. Gently, he offered it to her, urging her to drink, before Rufus…seeing that Wyatt was struggling from his current position, took over.
"Hey Lucy," he soothed, taking the mug from Wyatt, "got something for you…"
After a few failed attempts at getting her to drink, Rufus finally breathed out a sigh of relief when Lucy acknowledged him long enough to bring the cup to her lips and sip some of the coffee. Though his relief was short-lived.
"She's still shaking, Wyatt…"
"I know!" he snapped at Rufus, frustrated by his own helplessness. "I know," he said a bit more calmly. "It's going to take a while for her body temperature to rise," he explained. "Even in the best of circumstances, people with hypothermia need about 24-48 hours to get back to normal."
"And we're definitely not in the best of circumstances," Rufus muttered in understanding as Wyatt nodded to him grimly.
These were not the best of circumstances, hell they couldn't have been worse. Stuck in a century they didn't belong, in the middle of a damn forest with no medical equipment, and war and death surrounding them at every turn? Hypothermia was only part of their troubles…and something that at least was manageable in 2016, but in 1754?
Ratty old blankets and coffee was about the best he could do.
The doctor, when he finally arrived, was not much help on the hypothermia front. When Wyatt started talking about bringing Lucy's core temperature up, he had looked at him like he was losing his damn mind. He wasn't sure why he was even surprised. He doubted they even knew what hypothermia was in this century. They'd seen it before, sure…but to know how to treat it?
Finding no help there, Wyatt instead sought his assistance on the things he could help with, namely Lucy's injured leg and side. Her ankle wasn't broken, merely sprained…or so the doctor said as he wrapped it up in muslin and started anointing the gashes on her leg with a strong smelling liquid that reminded Wyatt of vinegar.
When he got to the cut on her side, however, Lucy cried out in pain and thrashed so much that Wyatt had to tighten his grip on her. "Well, that's got her attention," the doctor chuckled as he continued to apply her bandage, ""it's not terribly deep, but it was definitely made by a blade. See that laceration there?" he asked, pointing it out to Rufus, "it would have been made with an upward twisting motion, like so,' he mimicked before furrowing his brow in confusion, "it makes one wonder why…you say the French had her?" At Wyatt's nod, the doctor shook his head, "In any case, you should count yourself lucky. If they had wanted to kill her, they could have easily done so with just a bit more pressure there…"
Wyatt did count himself lucky. Closing his eyes, he thought of how close it had actually been. When they had first come upon the French, he had desperately sought her out, searching for Lucy from his hidden position in the trees, even as all hell had broken loose. It wasn't until he moved into the camp that he spied her and then…then it was almost too late. Wyatt shook his head as he thought about what might have happened to her if he hadn't had his .45.
It had been close…too damn close.
He tried….dammit, he had tried to call out to her after he shot that sonofabitch…but then she wound up in that damn bog…and then afterwards, when he went looking for her…
"It's not your fault, Wyatt." Rufus observed quietly as the doctor made his way out of the cabin.
"The hell it isn't," he spat back angrily, "if I could've gotten to her sooner…"
"You would've been killed…and Lucy right along with you," Rufus reminded him.
"I should've never left her. After we found her, I should've kept her with me…"
"Then you'd probably have a hole in your head instead of Daniel Morgan, " Rufus quipped. "Besides," he added, "it doesn't matter - you found her again, Wyatt…it's not like they…"
"We were lucky," Wyatt interrupted, "if the Mohawks hadn't come flying out of the woods to chase those French soldiers off…Rufus, if we had been just a few more minutes later.."
"But we weren't," Rufus reminded him, "we found her. We found her, Wyatt. You heard the doctor…she's going to be fine. And…and she's not looking as gray as she was…so that's gotta be a good thing, right?"
Wyatt didn't answer, not trusting the reality of Lucy's condition to some 18th century doctor who didn't even know what the hell hypothermia was. No. He wouldn't be able rest easy until he could assure himself beyond any reasonable doubt that she was improving…and while her color may have looked better to Rufus, to Wyatt she was still ice cold to the touch and deathly pale and well, that wasn't doing his overwrought nerves any favors.
Hey man," Rufus offered gently as Wyatt stifled a yawn, "why don't you get some rest? I...I can take over if you want."
"I'm not tired," Wyatt gritted out, pulling Lucy closer as he settled against the clapboard walls of the cabin. He could tell by the way Rufus was eyeballing him, he knew he was lying, but he didn't give a damn. Even though they were in the relative safety of the camp, there was no way in hell Wyatt was ever going to let Lucy out of his sight again. So, despite Rufus' insistence that he take a break, get some rest, switch and let him hold Lucy for a while, Wyatt adamantly refused, not trusting her recovery to anyone but himself.
Rufus, seeming to understand the futility of arguing with him, gingerly got to his feet and shuffled towards the door, "Alright then…I'm gonna go check on Daniel Morgan," he offered before turning back to Wyatt and whispering anxiously, "She's gonna be okay, right?"
"Yeah….yeah, I think so" Wyatt replied, but when the door snapped shut behind Rufus, he clutched a still shivering Lucy tighter and leaned his head back against the clapboard wall, amending with a mutter, "God, I hope so."
Wyatt was exhausted, spending the whole of the evening either holding Lucy in order to keep her warm, or stoking the fire in an attempt to keep the temperature inside the cabin as much above freezing as possible. He was grateful they had a shelter, grateful they were surrounded by an army which, at least, gave them a bit of protection and peace of mind, but the dilapidated cabin itself wasn't exactly weatherproof. Years or months of neglect - he wasn't sure which - coupled with the very basic building materials available in this vast wilderness had made their current shelter little more than a wind blocker…and even then, it wasn't doing a stellar job. Howling winds repeatedly cut through every tiny crevice in the place, making his job at keeping Lucy warm…and more importantly awake, one that required constant attention.
He knew she was tired, but until her color improved there was no way he was going to let her drift off to sleep. She moaned at him, but either couldn't or wouldn't do more than that…which only added to Wyatt's distress. She just laid there - shivering under a pile of dirty blankets with occasional bouts of delirium when she would insist she had to leave to find Amy.
It should have come as no surprise, then, that he awoke just before dawn with a start, his entire body stiff as he shifted against the uncomfortable wooden floorboards and wall. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but his sheer exhaustion coupled with the quiet stillness of the cabin had made staying awake virtually impossible.
Lucy, still cradled in his arms, was dozing peacefully…too peacefully Wyatt thought with alarm, but one touch of his shaking hand to her wrist allowed him to breathe out a sigh of relief. Her shivering had all but stopped and from what he could see, her skin was more pink now than gray, but Wyatt noted, she still felt deathly cold to the touch.
With a grimace, he saw that the fire had gone down considerably, and though he knew he should coax it back to life, Wyatt found himself too weary to move quite yet. Cradling Lucy, too, was comfortable and he sure as hell didn't want to disturb her. Now that her color was better, the thing she needed most was rest and so, Wyatt readjusted his grip around her torso and nestled in closer.
He was just about to doze off again when Lucy began to stir, a few little spasms here and there, followed by violent thrashes as she whimpered and clawed at the blankets piled on top of her. "Get…get off…." Lucy gritted out in her sleep before tearing herself out of Wyatt's grip with a cry. Sitting up, panting and breathless, she took in her strange surroundings looking absolutely terrified…obviously not understanding where she was or how the hell she got there.
Seeing this, Wyatt eased himself up and tentatively reached out to her, not wanting to scare her more than she already was. "Lucy?" Wyatt whispered, gently placing his hand on her back, "You okay?"
She startled at his touch, still breathing heavily as she turned in the dim light to face him, "Wyatt? Is…is that you?"
"Yeah…it's me," he replied with a relieved sigh, but he had barely gotten the words out before Lucy dove for him, wrapping her arms around his torso as she sobbed against his chest in a desperate hug. Tightening his own arms around her, he muttered, "Hey…it's okay…it's okay."
"I thought I was going to die," she stuttered out between gasping sobs..
Letting out a derisive chuckle, even as he attempted to keep his own raw emotions in check, Wyatt couldn't help but agree, "That makes two of us," he muttered before coaxing her out of his chest so that he could look at her face, "Seriously, ma'am…you gave me one hell of a scare."
"I'm s-sorry," she whimpered as more tears began to flow. "I tr…tried to get away…"
"No, Lucy…I'm sorry." Wyatt insisted. "By the time I found out you were gone…they…they had already had you for hours.." Lucy nodded quickly in understanding, unable to speak as her tears continued to flow. "I tried to get to you as soon as I could…"
"Wyatt…it's alr…"
"It's not alright,"he spat out in a healthy dose of self loathing. "I should've been there…I should have never…dammit Lucy, when I think of what they…" He swallowed hard, shaking his head before turning to her more fully and cupping her face with his hand. "Lucy, it's okay…it's okay if you don't want to tell me, I understand," he began, "but if those assholes did anything to hurt you…anything at all…" he paused, suddenly realizing how close she was…but her gaze, he noted with slight trepidation, was fixed elsewhere.
Her fingers, trembling with cold, ghosted over his chest as if just realizing it was bare. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced down at her own overly large nightgown, draped dangerously low (too low Wyatt now realized) on her shoulders. Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, he tried to explain, "Y-your clothes were practically frozen solid, we…we had to get you out of them to get you warm."
"Oh," Lucy murmured, her brow still furrowed in confusion as she continued to stare at Wyatt's chest.
Swallowing hard, he looked down at his own chest and stammered as he moved away from her, desperate to keep a respectful distance, "I…I was just trying to keep you warm..it's a survival tactic…um…with ya know…skin…uh…and you weren't doing any better so, I just…"
"Skin?"Lucy's eyes darted up to his in what he thought was most certainly alarm.
"J…just your back," Wyatt insisted, "I…I swear…I…wouldn't…especially after…I mean, I would never …you know I would never…"
"Yeah…I…I know…" she nodded before pulling the blankets more closely around her. Shifting uncomfortably, she turned her head away as Wyatt pulled his shirt back on and murmured, "It's so cold."
"Yeah…let me…let me get the fire back up," he stammered as he rushed across the room to fireplace and began coaxing it back to life. "It's gonna take a while for you to get back to normal…hell, Lucy you were practically frozen solid when we found you," Wyatt stated, before pausing and asking, "you don't remember do you?"
Lucy slowly shook her head, "No," she moaned as she rubbed one hand against her forehead. "I don't…I don't remember coming here at all…where…where are we anyway?"
"British camp…some old abandoned homestead," Wyatt replied as he fed a few more branches to the fireplace. Handing her a piece of rye bread, he offered, "are you hungry? can you eat anything?"
"I…I'll try." Lucy muttered, though she looked very much like she'd rather not. Instead of eating it in fact, she held the dark bread in her hands, turning it over and over, frowning in contemplation.
"I can find you something else, if you want," Wyatt remarked quietly after observing her for a while.
"Huh?" Lucy muttered, before startling and scoffing slightly, "oh…no…it's not…it's not that.. I…I just…feel like I'm forgetting something…"
"S'normal" Wyatt grunted as he stoked the fire, "You were in pretty bad shape when we found you…it's going to take you a while to recover." Lucy nodded her head in understanding, but kept her eyes firmly fixed in the opposite direction…something that didn't escape Wyatt's notice. "I uh…meant what I said earlier," he pressed with some hesitation, "you don't have to tell me anything, but…I just…if they did do anything to hurt you…"
Lucy scoffed as she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head on her knees, "Just the usual," she muttered, "harassment, threats…nothing they haven't done before."
"They stabbed you," Wyatt countered as Lucy looked up at him in surprise, "they're never done that before."
"How did you…" she began, before flushing in realization and turning away again. "It was nothing," she muttered as she pulled the blankets closer.
"Yeah right it was nothing," Wyatt challenged, crossing back and reclaiming his seat on the floor beside her. "Look," he began a bit more softly, "I know you've been through hell, but Lucy dammit…I just…I care about you."
Lucy darted her eyes to his in surprise, but almost immediately turned away again, relenting with a heavy sigh, "I know."
He tried not to notice her quickly swiping away tears, but he couldn't help it. Seeing Lucy cry was like a dagger in his heart. He wasn't good with words, particularly when it came to feelings, and hell, he didn't know what the hell he could say to make any of this better so, he let out a heavy sigh and drew her into his side, allowing her to hold on to him and cry openly for as long as she needed.
When her tears finally did stop, she seemed content to stay as she was, curled against his chest…and Wyatt? Well he wasn't about to complain about that. Having Lucy safe beside him was all he could've hoped for after the living nightmare of the past 24 hours.
His fingers caressed her arm, lightly rubbing soothing circles over its marred surface. Every scratch, every blemish his hand encountered only served to add to the many reasons he wanted nothing more than to kill every sonofabitch who had dared lay a finger on her. Her wrist, he noted, was especially chaffed, his touch of the broken skin there actually causing Lucy to hiss in pain.
"S-sorry," Wyatt offered as she flinched her hand away and cradled it in her own.
"It's okay," she chuckled breathlessly, looking somewhat embarrassed,"it's just a little sore from the…" Lucy stilled, her eyes focused on the raw, broken skin donning both of her wrists. Wrists that had been bound. Bounds that were untied by…"Oh my God…"
"What? What is it? What's wrong?
"Jane Fraser," Lucy gasped, turning suddenly to Wyatt. "Where is she? Where is she, Wyatt?" Wyatt stared back at her in confusion as she scrambled to her feet in a panic only to tumble back down to the floor. "We..we have to find her," she sobbed, "We have to help her."
"Whoa…you're not going anywhere, ma'am," Wyatt stated as he gently tugged at her arm. "Listen to me, Lucy," he urged as she tried to argue with him, "you've been through hell…and Lucy, I know this is going to be hard to understand, but…confusion, delirium…they're both common with hypothermia."
"I am not delusional." Lucy bristled, yanking her arm free.
Wyatt sighed, "Lucy, last night you were trying to find Amy…you were out of your damn mind…but it's normal, okay? It's normal to be confused after…"
"No, no Wyatt," Lucy insisted anxiously, " She was there, with me…out there with the French. I…I saw her, okay? She…she gave me bark to eat and…and…she helped me escape."
Wyatt shook his head at her, "Lucy, we infiltrated the camp…you didn't escape."
"No…no before…before," she insisted, attempting, but failing to get to her feet again, "Wyatt, I'm not confused. I know what I saw. I talked to her…she…she saved me. Please…we have to help her. We have to…" she stared back at Wyatt's doubtful frown and shook her head, "you don't believe me, do you?"
"Lucy," Wyatt sighed, "it's not that I don't believe you, it's just…" he paused, frowning in contemplation as he looked at her, the disappointment she was feeling towards him evident all over her face. "Look," he reasoned, "you don't need to be worrying about anything or anybody else right now, okay?"
"But Wyatt…"
"But nothing," he gritted out cupping her face in his hands, "Lucy, you almost died, you…I almost lost you…"
"Wyatt…"
"I mean it, Lucy," he said with determination, "you need to rest." Lucy, however, was having none of it. As she continued to argue and plead with him, Wyatt sighed, "I promise you, Lucy," he said with a determined nod, "if Jane Fraser really is out there…
"She is!"
"...then we'll do everything we can to get her back, alright?" Wyatt insisted, though Lucy was looking at him as if she knew he was just trying to appease her. "We can't do anything about it right now, anyway," Wyatt pressed as Lucy continued to scowl at him, "Gage isn't about to let us organize another raid, hell…he just about refused to approve the one last night."
"But Wyatt…"
"…I just really think you need to get some rest - that's the most important thing for you right now. Anything else can wait."
"Wyatt….they'll kill her. Please. Jane Fraser is out there."
"And we'll find her," Wyatt assured her dismissively, "but not until you're better….otherwise ma'am, I'm going to be going out of my damn mind." He said it as a tease…something to get her smiling after every shitty thing she had suffered through, something to soothe her troubled mind and get her to focus on her own recovery…but the moment the last word escaped from his lips, he realized he meant every damn word. Without Lucy, he had been out of his damn mind with worry, frustration…guilt. The last few hours, in fact, had been some of the most nerve-wracking of his life.
He couldn't lose her - not now, not ever.
Swallowing hard, he nudged her, "Come on, you need to get some more sleep."
"I'm not tired," she huffed even as she stifled a yawn.
Wyatt scoffed at her doubtfully and got to his feet, pulling the rickety old bed closer to the fire, "You're not fooling anyone, Lucy. I mean it, ma'am…you're not going to be doing yourself or Jane Fraser any favors unless you get some sleep."
Huffing out an annoyed breath, Lucy relented. "Fine," she gritted out, attempting but failing to get up with the litany of blankets still draped all over her. Gently gripping her arm, Wyatt helped her up, but not without her stumbling on her bad ankle and crashing into him, "Ow…ow…-sorry," she gasped out as she collided with his chest.
"You okay?" Wyatt asked, still holding her arms to steady her.
"Ye-yeah," Lucy sighed heavily as she eased herself out of his chest, "I'll be fine, it's just my…" she stopped, gulping slightly as she met Wyatt's eyes, "my ankle."
He gazed at her, nodding stupidly, not quite able to think of anything except Lucy's fingers which were now pressing tenderly against his chest. He knew he should back away, restore the comfortable, respectable distance between them, but having Lucy this close was… intoxicating . He was almost light-headed, every feel of his hand on her arm, every touch of her finger on his chest was clouding his brain like too much whiskey.
Way too much whiskey.
But whether it was drunk on Jack Daniels or Lucy, the effect was the same - and Wyatt knew he was in very real danger of making a damn fool of himself…but try as he might, he could not bring himself to care.
Not with Lucy gazing back up at him like that.
"Th..thank you, Wyatt." she murmured, pulling away, but he wasn't content to let her go.
Maintaining a gentle grip on her arm, Wyatt nodded slowly. "No problem," he replied, before adding with a soft smirk, "ma'am."
The flush on Lucy's cheek was unmistakable, and Wyatt, hardly believing the effect that one word had on her, was absolutely transfixed.
Slowly, he lifted his hand from Lucy's arm to her face, dragging his thumb across her cheek as his eyes drifted down to her lips. The memory of how it felt to kiss her thrilled him with an anticipation that was, under the present circumstances, almost indecent.
Whatever feeble argument was forming in his brain, however, went the way of the manifold blankets now lying in a heap at their feet. His heart pounded, his ears thundered as Lucy's lithe fingers tentatively reached up to caress his jaw, before she leaned forward and closed the little gap that remained between them.
Her lips brushed against his with the lightness of a feather, hesitant and unsure, but enough to send his already gutter-bound brain on an express route southward.
He should have backed away, he knew he should…this was not the time…but after the emotional hell of the past 24 hours, all he wanted was her . Gripping her jaw a little more firmly, Wyatt pulled her in to deepen the kiss, desperate to feel more of her. His fingers tangled through her mess of curls as his nose ghosted over her cheek…searching. He had just managed to sweep his mouth over her oh so willing one, when the thundering sound in his ears got louder…so loud in fact, that it shook the whole damn cabin.
"What the…"
An explosion answered this time sending a shower of dirt and debris against the broken windows of the cabin as both Wyatt and Lucy ducked for cover.
"Stay here!" He shouted as he scrambled towards the door, only to find himself nearly colliding with Rufus who was running through it, breathless.
"Oh good…you're up," he observed with a pant, "we've uh…got problems."
Just one look over Rufus shoulder and Wyatt could easily see that was a bit of an understatement. The entire camp was in uproar with soldiers running frantically to defend against a maelstrom of bullets and cannon fire, seemingly from every direction. "Shit!" Wyatt gritted out, grabbing Rufus by the arm and pulling him inside. "Stay with Lucy," he ordered, "I mean it, Rufus," he added with a grunt as he leapt off the small porch, "don't let her out of your sight."
"Wyatt!" Lucy called after him, but he was already racing into the confused fray. Picking up a discarded musket, Wyatt quickly began loading it, peering through the smoky haze as he did so in a desperate attempt to get his bearings. They were being attacked, that much was clear, but unlike last night this seemed less like an ambush and more like a…
"Raid." Daniel Boone supplied as he acknowledged Wyatt with a nod. "Bastards managed to wheel away one of our cannon before the alarm was sounded." As if in answer to that pronouncement, a shell whistled high overhead and buried itself in a tree several hundred yards to the left of them. "Lucky for us," Boone observed with a chuckle as he discharged his musket into the trees, "they can't aim worth a damn."
Wyatt raised his eyebrows in agreement before taking his own careful aim and shooting a French soldier situated just beyond the homestead gate who had taken off with a chest of ammunition. "We need to get organized," Wyatt murmured as he cast a concerned look towards the frantic British troops, "it won't matter how bad their aim is if we can't keep them from stealing our supplies."
"Aye," Daniel Boone agreed, "But Gage will have them in hand, in no time," he assured before emptying his musket into another French soldier. Reloading, he quipped to Wyatt with a smile, "Hell of a morning…"
"Yeah, it's peachy" Wyatt grunted back, ducking his head just in time to avoid a musket ball.
"Is your wife faring any better?"
"I think so," Wyatt replied, reloading his own musket, "how's Morgan?"
"See for yourself," Daniel Boone replied, directing Wyatt's attention to a hastily constructed barricade where none other than a heavily bandaged Daniel Morgan was situated and discharging his musket into the fray.
Wyatt couldn't help but be impressed by Daniel Morgan's tenacity - the man seemed born to fight…and while he was halfway positive he shouldn't be charging into battle missing half of his face, he couldn't deny that seeing him fight, injured though he was, was inspiring.
They fought for what felt like hours, the initial raid turning into something more like a siege with the French pressing in on them, squeezing them almost to the point of desperation. The British fought valiantly, driving the French and their Allies away, making small gains against them only to have those gains negated by another wave of French marauders. On and on it went, until the ground around them shook with all the force of a stampede.
"Well, I'll be damned," Boone exclaimed, peering off to the woods on his left, "It's Braddock."
Wyatt turned suddenly to see an entire host of redcoats rapidly approaching on the newly carved out road, bringing with them a slew of cannon and wagons that made one wonder how in the hell they had made it so far so fast. The man, himself, was easily distinguished from the other soldiers - insignia or no, General Braddock was practically dripping with an air of self-importance as he pounded onto the scene, barking out orders from atop his horse as if every last man's hope of survival depended on him.
As the newly arrived soldiers reinforced Gage's ranks, John Fraser came hobbling towards them, his bandaged broken arm nestled in a sling, "It took some convincing," he said in way of greeting, "but I got him here as soon as I could."
"And just in time too," Daniel Boone replied with a grateful nod, shaking John's good hand. "I trust you had an uneventful journey?"
"As much as to be expected," John replied, though Wyatt noted he looked tired and worn…not at all like the man who had just left them the evening before. "We are here at any rate…and with God's help, perhaps we can drive these rascals off at last."
"We thought we had last night," Daniel Boone admitted with a nod towards Wyatt, "should have seen it, John…it was a hell of a fight."
"I'm sure it was," John remarked…but once again, Wyatt could tell there was something straining in the way he looked…almost as if it pained him to smile. Acknowledging Wyatt for the first time since his arrival John asked, "I take it you got your wife back?"
"Yeah," Wyatt replied, "Yeah, she was in bad shape when we found her but I…I think she's going to be okay."
"Let's hope so." John remarked, offering Wyatt a small smile as he did so.
"Did you happen to chance a meeting with our Native friends?" Boone pressed, "Will they come to our aid?"
John cast a wary glance towards Wyatt and nodded, "Aye…Col. McKee arrived at Braddock's camp just before I did. He has taken great pains with some of the Shawnee, he's one of them you know…and seems to think they will support our effort here…especially after…"
"John!? John!?" Mary Fraser came running towards them from the wagons, looking desperate and terrified, "You promised…"
"Ah, Mary…forgive me, my dear," he acknowledged with a kiss, taking her hands in his one good one. Seeing the questioning glance from both Daniel Boone and Wyatt he pulled Mary closer and whispered, "I'll be along directly." As she reluctantly moved away, John explained as he cast another uneasy look towards Wyatt, "Col. McKee stopped by the house just as the French Cavalry arrived. Between his men and my Tom they were able to get my Mary to safety. Margaret, God rest her, was not so lucky."
"Oh John," Wyatt exclaimed, "I'm so sorry."
"Not as sorry as I." John remarked quietly, before nodding at them both with tears in his eyes and stepping away to rejoin Mary.
Wyatt watched him go with a heavy heart, a horrible sense of guilt washing over him as he considered how John's absence had left his entire household vulnerable. He wanted to go to him, to apologize, to offer up more than just a few meaningless words of sympathy when another volley of French musketfire had him ducking back behind another hastily constructed barricade and resuming his fight.
With Braddock's men now strengthening their defenses, it wasn't long before a white flag appeared on a far ridge, accompanied by a young French courier.
"I'll be damned," Boone exclaimed as he wiped his brow, "they're surrendering."
Wyatt's initial reaction was that of relief - finding himself more than ready to get Lucy and Rufus out of harm's way - but then he remembered…the French were supposed to win their battle against Braddock and Wyatt began thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good thing after all.
But as Wyatt watched the French messenger approach, he began to form a new idea, "I don't think it's a surrender," he noted as the courier was escorted to Colonel Gage. Casting a wary eye towards Boone, Wyatt began snaking his way towards the officer's tent, watching as Gage conversed with the soldier through a translator for sometime before sending him on his way again.
Wyatt was inclined to think nothing of it, anxious to get back to Lucy when he was suddenly called forth by Col. Gage himself and ushered into his tent where General Braddock and Col. McKee were already assembled.
"It seems we have a criminal in our midst," Gage remarked as he folded up a letter at Wyatt's approach. Watching as the courier continued to depart through the ranks of his men, Gage continued, "A young lady who, from what I gather, is a dangerous murderer." Turning to Wyatt he nodded, "your wife, I believe."
"You got to be kidding me," Wyatt scoffed, "Lucy?"
"Yes, well…from what I could understand they appear to have kidnapped her in recompense for the murder of one of their aides…a son, a nephew….I'm not sure which… the translation is somewhat lost on me. Regardless, I told them it was quite impossible for me to release a British citizen into their custody…"
"But we don't know that she is a British citizen, Gage."
Wyatt turned to find Colonel Alexander McKee leisurely stroking his jaw as he cast his flinty eyes towards and equally pensive General Braddock. "And," he continued, "if she is not a British citizen we are under no obligation to protect her…there is, in fact, more reason to believe she is one of them…"
Dumbfounded, Wyatt gaped at him. "What the hell are you saying? You know her, how could you even…"
"No, I'm afraid I don't know her young man," Col McKee replied cooly , "Or you either for that matter…though it pains me to say it."
Narrowing his eyes, Wyatt shook his head, "What the hell are you talking about? Of course you know us…hell, you walked Lucy down the aisle at our wed..."
"Indeed, I did…and I was glad to do it…honored even…but at the time, I wasn't aware that you were deceiving us." Wyatt started, something that did not escape Col. McKee's notice, "Let us talk frankly now, you and I…and perhaps you can explain…"
"I saved your damn life," Wyatt reminded him, "What the hell do you mean, you don't know me?"
Looking wholly nonplussed, Colonel McKee produced a letter from his coat pocket, shook it open and explained, "After what befell you on the night of your wedding, I took the liberty to write to my dear friend William Trent…he's from New Jersey, you remember and is quite intimate with many of the prominent families in and around New York… particularly Montauk."
A memory, vague and distant though it was, sprang up in Wyatt's mind as Colonel McKee continued with haughty disdain, "I thought it only proper to get word out to your families that you were safe and being provided for, despite the horrors we had witnessed…and what do you suppose happened?" he chided as Wyatt stared back at him defiantly. "No one," he answered with a nod, "not one person had ever heard of you….or your wife either."
Wyatt shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the fact that Matthew, the brown-nosing sonofabitch from Harvard had just entered the tent. Shaking his head in protest, he weakly argued, "That…that doesn't mean…"
"On the contrary, it does." Col. McKee replied, "You see, after hearing this I began other inquiries, seeing as how I had assured my dear friend John Fraser that you could be trusted. Surely, a young man and young woman don't just run away together without so much as a whisper of rumor or scandal…and this is where it gets interesting…"
"Look," Wyatt gritted out in frustration, "I don't know what you think you know about us, but…"
"While scouting for allies to our cause," Col. McKee continued, ignoring him, "I began to hear rumors from my contacts among the Shawnee of a young woman who had stolen the heart of a French soldier…a commander's son…only to leave him for the arms of another - killing this French soldier in the process. Naturally, I didn't think a thing of it…until I remembered you telling me that your dear Lucy was engaged before she had eloped with you…and elopement, I might add, that put you strangely near the very location of this young man's death…Fort Duquesne."
"I have no idea what you're even talking about," Wyatt spat out angrily. "I saved Lucy from that damn fort months ago…"
"A stunning feat it was too," Col. McKee recalled with a nod, "one man against an entire French army?" Shaking his head, he murmured, "I should have known then something was amiss."
"And just what the hell do you mean by that?" Wyatt spat out. "We barely made it out of there alive…"
"But you did survive…only to have the French show up on John Fraser's doorstep just hours after your wedding. Indeed," Col. McKee observed, "what better time for the French to attack than on your wedding night when the whole of a newly arrived army would be engaged in revelry and celebration?"
"You think we set that up?" Wyatt asked incredulously, "Are you out of your damn mind? I nearly died in that attack…"
"But you didn't…you certainly weren't as bad off as John. And if I remember correctly," he added, "you were nearly an hour late for the ceremony…plenty of time for you to go and inform the French of the new arrivals," Col. McKee shot back with disdain before scoffing, "and here I thought it was just bad luck."
"Why the hell would I help the French?" Wyatt spat out angrily, "They shot me, kidnapped Lucy, tried to sell Rufus…we were all nearly killed trying to get the hell out of Duquesne."
I don't presume to know the motivations of a traitor…"
"Now see here," Gage argued, "He might not have been truthful about where he hails from, but I'd pledge my life that Mr. Wyatt here is no friend of the French. After last evening? You don't fight like he does and…"
"No, no one quite fights like he does…and a Quaker at that," Col. McKee interrupted.
"I never told you I was a Quaker," Wyatt gritted out angrily, "You assumed I was because I didn't give a damn about your war."
"And yet you never corrected us," Col. McKee replied, looking vindicated. "You never once felt impelled by honor to set us right and tell us the truth? After everything that was done for you…why would you lie?"
Wyatt stared back at him, halfway between furious and ashamed. Of course he hated lying to John, no one had ever done more for him outside his Grandpa Sherwin…and Lucy. The truth, however, was impossible to tell…how the hell could he even begin to explain who they really were…and why the hell would they believe him if he did?
They had lied…and now they were caught…and he hadn't the faintest idea how to get the hell out of this mess.
Shaking his head, Wyatt doubled down, "I think I've done more than enough to prove myself to you and this army." He stared hard at Col. McKee as he added, "I don't need to explain anything to you."
"No matter," Col. McKee quipped unconcernedly, nodding to Matthew as more British soldiers entered the tent, "there are ways of getting the information we need…"
At first, Wyatt thought Gage was referring to him, but moments later the distant sound of Rufus' yelled protest had his heart sinking. Panicked, he strained against arms holding him back from running outside the tent to Lucy as she was being half dragged, half carried out of the cabin by two British soldiers, "No…no!" he gritted out angrily, "You….get your damn hands off her!"
"No harm will come to the lady," Col. McKee promised as Wyatt was forced down into a chair, "as long as you tell us the truth. Now," he said, sitting down behind Col. Gage's desk and fitting his nose with a pair of spectacles, "Who are you…really?"
Notes:
Dun dun duuuunnnnn!
Their lies have caught up with them. When I started out on this fic (AGES ago) I had to plot out situations where basically they wouldn't be able to find refuge making their willingness to take their chances in that time machine (especially after living for months in the 18th century) more plausible. Disease and danger aside, they've been able to navigate through it...but losing the only support system they have makes their situation more desperate.
I know you all are probably cursing me as Lucy and Wyatt are once again interrupted - BUT again, there is a method for my madness - a reason behind this slow burn, that I hope you will appreciate when it is all said and done. I wanted this fic to be more of a "lost scenes" thing than anything with a little extra Lyatt thrown in there for...well, you'll see why when this is FINALLY finished. : ) In any case, this chapter has them super cuddly so I hope that's some consolation to you all.
The next chapter will be another action packed one with some angst and then...then we'll be back into the familiar. We're ALMOST ALMOST done...and I can't believe it's taken so long to get to this point, but what can I say? Real life comes first.
Thank you again for your patience and your readership. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
