The downpour of the morning gave way to a sunny and warm afternoon, the unseasonable weather a much needed blessing in their newly desperate circumstances.
Though still water-logged and a bit-chilled from their trek through the rain, the afternoon sun's warm rays did much to improve their physical circumstances, though Wyatt made it abundantly clear he would have rather have contended with the downpour.
"We're gonna be a hell of a lot easier to track," he observed grimly, nodding towards the muddy path before them.
"Well what do you suggest?" Rufus huffed, grumpy from hours of traipsing through the Pennsylvania wilderness. "We can't exactly avoid stepping in…dammit," he cursed as he sunk shin-deep into a puddle. Gritting his teeth, he used both hands to free his foot from the muck before tumbling sideways into Lucy. "All of this because you had to go and murder Braddock…" he spat out in frustration.
"She told me he needed to die,"; Wyatt countered, pointing an accusing finger at Lucy. "I did my damn job…which is more than what you've done. If you hadn't been so hellbent on making horseshoes and bullets, we might have been out of here by now."
"Excuse me?" Rufus began, but Lucy, tired of the arguing, intervened.
"We're not going to get out of here at all if you two don't stop fighting!" she hissed angrily. As the two men glared at each other, she offered, "Look, I know things are bad right now…but we've been in tough spots before." Wyatt snorted as she continued, "Once we get to the fort, we'll pretend we're refugees…coming back from the battle….and…"
" If we get to the fort," Rufus warned. "Now that we've got two armies looking to kill us…"
Shooting him a warning glare, Lucy gritted out in determination, "We will…but…but Wyatt's right," she offered, ducking her head down awkwardly as he looked at her with some surprise, "we…we're going to lead them right to us if we can't figure out a way to hide our tracks."
"Well what do you propose we do?" Rufus hissed, "it's not like we can avoid…"
"Yes we can," Wyatt answered, cutting him off as he began marching down a hill towards the sound of rushing water. He marched on, ignoring every petition from his two teammates to explain himself until they found themselves overlooking a shallow, but swift-moving stream. "There," Wyatt offered, "that should help cover our tracks."
"You expect us to what? Float our way there? Swim?" Rufus huffed.
"No," Wyatt gritted out, "I expect us to walk." With determination, he led the way, sloshing himself into the ankle deep water. "It's not too deep…and even if it does get deeper, it will at least hide our trail for a little while."
Exchanging a look with Rufus, Lucy nodded her head and followed suit, hiking up her skirts as she entered the icy stream behind Wyatt, taking care not to complain about the coldness of the water.
Rufus, however, was not so considerate.
"It's freezing!" he moaned as he sloshed in behind Lucy.
Wyatt however shushed him, placing a finger over his mouth and roughly pointing towards a ridge behind them where the sound of whinying horses could distinctly be heard. "Shut the hell up, Rufus," he whispered harshly, "or they're gonna hear you."
With that warning, the trio set off slowly traipsing their way through the babbling stream, occasionally casting wary glances over their shoulders lest they were being followed. For a good long while, they said nothing and did nothing but wade, in almost complete silence, until the water level began to creep up, forcing Lucy to speak out, "Um…I can't…Wyatt…"
Turning, he saw her struggling - her long skirts spread out behind her, soaking in the stream and weighing her down, She was now behind Rufus and barely making any forward progress. Backtracking somewhat, Wyatt made his way towards her, reaching out his hand to help her get back to shore as he directed Rufus, "That's as far as we can go right now, we're gonna have to go the rest of the way on shore."
Ignoring Rufus muttered grievances about Lucy getting "special treatment" Wyatt grasped Lucy's hand and helped her onto shore, leaving him to fend for himself as he uneasily clambered after them.
"I'm sorry," Lucy muttered quietly as soon as they reached the bank.
Shrugging, Wyatt offered, "S'okay…he would complain anyway…."
"No…that's not…I'm sorry for everything ," Lucy explained. "You…you did your job and I shouldn't have…" she bit her lip as Wyatt stared back at her, looking somewhat stunned, "I'm sorry that we're in this mess again…if I wasn't so hellbent on making sure history stayed the same…"
"That's your job," Wyatt reminded her with a slight smirk, before sighing and adding, "Look, is this how I wanted to get us out of here? No…but," he continued, "it is what it is….and between you and me - Braddock had it coming." At Lucy's look of approbation, Wyatt shrugged, "That guy was an asshole."
Lucy smirked at him in return, silently agreeing with his assessment that yes, Braddock certainly wasn't on her list of 'favorite historical figures' and though she was glad that history, for the most part, had stayed the same in that Braddock did not survive the onslaught, she secretly wondered if Wyatt's actions had been in vain.
Had things changed so much that Braddock's death didn't even matter?
She was just beginning to remuniate on those terrifying thoughts when Wyatt continued softly, "Um…how…how are you feeling? Do you need to rest?"
"A rest would be great, thanks." Rufus huffed, plopping down on a nearby log, groaning over his "tired-ass feet".
Lucy, seeing Wyatt's patience wearing thin, tugged at Wyatt's sleeve directing the pointed glare he was shooting towards Rufus back to herself. "Hey, it's okay…I could use a little break to dry out," she offered, pointing to her sopping wet skirts. Stepping away from the main trail, she picked up a handful of her skirts and began ringing them out, shifting her body away from the cold stream bursting forth from her hands.
Wyatt watched her momentarily before approaching her once again, "So…about this plan of yours…"
Lucy stilled momentarily, offering Wyatt an uneasy look before, nodding, "What about it?"
"I'm not wholly convinced we're going to be able to just waltz into that fort," he admitted. "And after what happened last time…:
"This won't be like the last time…"
"How can you be sure?" Wyatt challenged. "Because I'm teling you right now, Lucy…I didn't rescue you from that damn place and survive out here all these months just to turn around and hand ourselves over to the French on a silver platter."
"I told you," Lucy said patiently, "The French who are looking for us? They're behind us…probably making their way back to the fort right now. The ones guarding Duquense? They're reserves….it was in the letter, Wyatt," she pressed again when he offered her a skeptical look. "I don't want to go back there any more than you do…but with the British now on our tails….we don't have much of a choice."
Seeing him looking wholly unconvinced it was the right course of action, Lucy continued, "Look, after a battle like that, wounded men are going to be staggering back to the safety of the fort for…for days. Maybe, if we're lucky, we can nab a French uniform from a wash line or something…"
"Or off a dead soldier…" Wyatt murmured, stepping away from her with a curious look on his face.
Intrigued, Lucy followed him, wondering what had gotten his attention when the sight of a French soldier lying a little further up the bank caught her attention. He was clearly dead, that much was certain…the upper half of his body bobbed carelessly with the stream's current, his head partially submerged in the water.
As she got closer, the French soldier's hands came into view, stretched out before him. The one was badly injured, covered only partially by a heavily bloodied bandage, The other loosely gripped the handle of a large, blood-stained blade that was now wedged in the stream against a large rock.
A blade that looked horrifyingly familiar.
Seeing it, Lucy faltered, staggering backwards in realization even as Wyatt reached the body and turned him over, confirming to her, beyond all doubt, the dead man was indeed, Major Marcel Toussaint. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, sinking to the ground.
"Well, this sonofabitch won't be bothering you anymore," Wyatt surmised with a scowl, immediately recognizing Lucy's attacker. Eyeing her warily, he observed grimly, "You okay?"
Lucy should have been okay. She had wanted him dead. Ever since he shot Wyatt, she had wanted him dead…but now? Now seeing his lifeless body lying at Wyatt's feet she felt…sick. Sick, because she wasn't sorry. Sick because some small part of her wished/hoped she had been the one who had dealt the fatal blow. Sick because her only regret was that he didn't die sooner.
And what did that say about her?
As horrifying as it was to realize she was not only celebrating the death of another human being,but hoped she had been the one responsible - it was more horrifying to realize that she was becoming the woman Flynn had warned her about.
" You make me look like a Boy Scout."
"Oh God," Lucy gasped out, feeling like she needed to vomit. With shaking hands, she branced herself against the stump of a tree and dry heaved violently, coughing and sputtering, wishing she would just throw up and expel whatever dark poison had taken hold of her system.
Wyatt was at her side the next moment, kneeling beside her in concern - he said nothing, just merely held her hand with one hand as he rubbed circles on her back with the other. She wondered if he knew…if he understood…but she couldn't bring herself to ask him.
"Who do you think killed him?" Rufus asked as he kneeled down close to the body.
Lucy hiccuped in anxious anticipation, her body going tense as she cautiously glanced over her shoulder at the body. She had stabbed him in the hand and in the shoulder in her desperate effort to get away, she recalled….but maybe..maybe that hadn't been enough…
Wyatt, eyeing her warily, slowly got to his feet and moved towards the body, examining it. "Hard to say," he observed, noting his many injuries. "His body is still pretty damn warm which means he died…."
"Very very recently." Lucy voice quavered as she slowly lifted her hands in surrender to the sky.
Wyatt hadn't heard them approach, but one quick glance of concern towards Lucy had him throwing up his own arms in surrender as a group of war-painted Native Americans stood before them, glowering at them with hate as they stood over them, aiming with their drawn bows.
"So do they scalp you after they kill you or is scalping how they kill you?" Rufus murmured.
They were each lashed to separate poles, the cords on their wrists bound so tight, Wyatt could feel his blood oozing and trickling onto his palms. Around them, war-whoops and blood-curdling cries sounded in the night, convincing him that despite the fact they hadn't been murdered on the bank of that stream immediately, their situation?
It wasn't good.
"These are Shawnee?" Wyatt asked Lucy, who merely nodded at him return. "And they're allied with the French?" he prompted again.
"Depends on the tribe…depends on the day…" Lucy muttered in return before stating hopefully, "Alexander McKee is part Shawnee, you know."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Wyatt asked flatly with a scoff.
Lucy scoffed, "Well, it's something …"
Trying to match what he realized was a desperate attempt at optimism, Wyatt observed, "Well, I guess we should take it as a positive sign they haven't tried to kill us…yet."
"There's gotta be a way out of this, right?" Rufus urged, clearly panicking.
"Unless one of you can barf up a knife, I think we're going to be here a while," Wyatt observed grimly, straining against his bonds.
Rufus chuckled darkly, "You know if this is it…"
"Don't say that," Wyatt barked, "it's not it….we're gonna get out of this…"
Ignoring him, Rufus continued, "You know there was never a guarantee that we'd get out of 1754. Hell, who knows if Mason even got the Protocol."
Wyatt was about to tell Rufus to shut the hell up and stop being so damn negative when Lucy's small voice sounded beside him, "We were never going to get out of this alive, were we?"
"Listen you two," Wyatt snapped, "You might have given up, but I sure as hell haven't. We don't even know what the hell we're here for - if they wanted to kill us, they could have easily killed us at the river while our backs were turned...just like that French asshole," Wyatt added with a huff.
At the mention of him , Lucy absolutely flinched, something Wyatt didn't fail to notice. Given their current situation he knew asking her if she was okay was useless - as none of them were by any means okay…but still, he couldn't help but wonder why she had been so distraught over finding that asshole dead.
He had his suspicions of course, but nothing to back those suspicions up because as far as he knew the last time she had even laid eyes on the sonofabitch was before she had nearly frozen to death running away from him and his band of French assholes in the woods.
"Wonder why he was so far away from the rest of the group?" Rufus mused out loud, "Do you think he got lost?"
"My guess he probably staggered away after getting injured in that damn battle," Wyatt surmised, keeping an eye on Lucy. "Granted, he was pretty beat up, but at least two of those wounds weren't more than a day old - hell his hand was still oozing blood from what I could see."
"Do…do you think that's what killed him?" Lucy asked quietly, keeping her face trained on the ground below her.
"Well, it probably didn't help," Wyatt assessed, but upon seeing the blood drain out of Lucy's face he added, "But I think what probably killed him was the arrow in his back."
Lucy turned to him in surprise, "He…he had an arrow…I…I didn't see…"
Seeing the hope in her eyes was all the confirmation Wyatt needed to know that Lucy Preston had somehow been the one responsible for at least some of that asshole's injuries…but asking her outright? Especially in front of Rufus? Well, that wasn't going to happen…so in a desperate effort to make her feel better, Wyatt nodded and admitted quietly,"I should have killed that sonofabitch when I had the chance…and I wouldn't have been sorry about it either."
The effect of his words were immediate. Lucy's eyes, brimming with tears, met his as she smiled at him in gratitude.
"That's gotta be a good thing, right?" Rufus offered, suddenly hopeful,, "If they killed him…"
But his sudden optimism was interrupted by the entrance of a few of the warriors who had detained them and the chieftess of the tribe, an extremely tall woman whom they had never seen before…not in person anyway.
"You're Nonhelema," Lucy gasped.
The chieftess, stoic and unwavering, merely narrowed her eyes at her in surprise, "You know me?"
"Oh good, you speak, English," Lucy breathed out in relief.
"Missionaries," Nonhelema replied slowly, her eyes still sharply focused on Lucy, "Their language stayed, their faith did not." Raising a finger, she pointed at them, "You are English?"
'Well, technically speaking…no," Lucy offered, terrified that one wrong answer would see them all killed. "We…we're here to help. I'm Dr. Quinn…and I'm a medicine woman…"
"Help?" Nonhelema scoffed, "The French promised to help…and they built up forts and subjected our people." Shaking her head at them, she added, "And the British are no better…you," she said, addressing Wyatt, "you have killed many of our men."
"Look, I was just trying to protect…"
"And you are the one who killed the man they called Braddock?" Nonhelema continued, after an interjection by one of her tribesmen. "Was he not your master?"
"What? I didn't…" Wyatt denied, but at Lucy's look of approbation, he reluctantly countered, "look, he wasn't my…"he attempted again, before relenting with a heavy sigh, "I killed Braddock. yeah."
"It's my fault," Lucy defended, "I….I know this is going to sound crazy, but Braddock was supposed to die out there and…"
"So you have no honor?" Nonehelema asked of them. "You would kill a man who offered you protection?"
Before Lucy could respond, the warriors who had accompanied Nonhelema into the tent were standing before her and Wyatt, smearing ash on their faces.
"What the hell are they doing?" Wyatt grunted, attempting to move away.
"Oh you know…just marking us for death," Lucy replied in a strained voice.
"Wait, what?" Rufus exclaimed…only the warrior who stood before him with his knife unsheathed didn't mark him as his companions had marked Lucy and Wyatt. Instead, he silently sliced through Rufus' bonds, before turning to face Nonhelema with a bow.
"To you we will show mercy," she explained, simply.
"Me?"; Rufus asked in confusion, "Um…why?"
With a slight smile, Nonhelema raised a finger towards the warrior who had loosed Rufus' 'bonds, "A life for a life," she explained. "You spared my son, so I will spare you."
Rufus stared open-mouthed at the Native American before him, vaguely recognizing the young warrior as the one he had inadvertently saved when he mistakenly hit one of his own allies with a frying pan. Rather than admit that he hadn't meant to spare him at all, Rufus desperately sought to use his good luck to his advantage as knives were pressed to Lucy and Wyatt's respective throats.
"Whoa…whoa..whoa…hang on a minute here…I…uh..I appreciate you letting me go and all, but…I'm not gonna stand by and let you kill my friends."
"These people have no honor," Nonhelema replied.
"Look, I don't know what your experience has been with the French or the British, but if it's anything like we experienced? We're on the same page. Seriously. You think you've had problems with the French and the British? No one knows what that's like better than these two people right here," Rufus acknowledged as Lucy whimpered in agreement. "Both of them damn near killed us. We never wanted to be a part of this war….all we wanted was to be left alone…and I think you can understand that.
Nonhelma stared back at him as he continued, "You say they have no honor….but I'd trust them with my life over anyone else in these God-forsaken woods and that's the damn truth. All we want, all we've ever wanted since we landed here is to go home." he admitted, before nodding at her seriously. "Now," Rufus continued as Nonhelema continued to stare at him, "you can kill them and there's not a whole lot I can do about that…but if you kill them, you're gonna have to kill me too."
A murmur arose in the tent, silenced only with a lift of Nonhelema's hand. "You would die for these people?" she asked Rufus intently.
"Yeah," Rufus nodded, tears brimming in his eyes, "yeah I would…and I know for a fact, they would do the same for me."
"I could kill you all - what's one or two less English in these lands" she surmised slowly. "But if you insist that they have been misjudged…then killing them, perhaps, would not be honorable." Turning to Lucy and Wyatt she nodded, "Your friend has bought your life, I hope you are worthy of it."
"I hope so too," Wyatt breathed out as his own bands were cut.
Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Nonhelema nodded. "To have a man willing to lay down his life for yours is no small thing. Perhaps I was wrong about you," she mused, before warning, "do not prove me wrong."
Lucy, grateful to be given a second chance and yet still in awe of the formidable woman before her, made a low bow to the chieftess, "Thank you so much…you have no idea how much we appreciate your kindness."
"A kindness?" Nonhelema replied, amused. "In these times a kindness would be to die an honorable death. There is much suffering here and I fear it will only get worse."
Lucy cast an uneasy look at Wyatt and Rufus before nodding, "I think you might be right."
Nonhelema was about to turn and leave the tent, when Lucy interjected, "Look, I…I know you don't have any reason to trust us…but given that you just gave us a second-chance I think I should tell you that…we plan on sneaking into Fort Duquesne…not to hurt anybody," she assured as Wyatt hissed and Nonhelema turned to face her, "but to get some supplies so that we can go home. We wouldn't be doing it otherwise, believe me."
Nonehelema eyes them both warily and for one horrifying moment Wyatt thought that Lucy had said too much. Given the alliance, albeit a shaky one, the Shawnee had with the French, making them privy to their clandestine plans was not exactly something high on Wyatt's to do list and for one horrifying moment, Wyatt thought that Nonhelema might just change her mind and kill them after all.
Lucy, however, maintained her composure and nodded as she explained further, "We were driven away from the British camp before we had a chance to prepare for our trip…I just…I wanted you to know that we aren't trying to be dishonest or anything. It's like Rufus said, we're just trying to go home."
Nonehelema studied Lucy for a long while before smirking at her slyly, "You have shown great faith - telling me this." Nodding at her, she continued, "The fastest and safest route to Duquesne is through the forest, my men will protect you there…you would do well to avoid the water. British and French scouts are searching for you there."
"Than-"
"It would be best if you leave as soon as possible," she continued, nodding to her tribesmen, "the French army is only a half day's march behind you."
"God, this uniform reeks," Wyatt groaned as he roughly shoved his arms into Major Marcel Toussaint's jacket. "He was French, you think at least he'd know about cologne."
Taking the bloodied bandage once wrapped around the French soldier's hand, Lucy carefully tied it around Wyatt's neck, leaving the bloodiest portion at the front. "There," she assessed, sighing in satisfaction, "you have a good reason not to speak…"
"You sure this is gonna work?" Wyatt replied doubtfully, "We lost a lot of time getting captured…"
"We don't have much of a choice," Lucy sighed as she knelt down and relaced one of her boots. "We can only hope that Nonhelema is right…that Coulon's army is still making their way back to Duquesne."
"And if they're already there?" Wyatt pressed.
Lucy stared at him for a moment and shrugged, "We make it up as we go, right?"
"Right." Wyatt replied, eyeing her as she eased her way past him and made her way to Rufus.
"You have everything you need? Are you ready?" she asked him urgently. She hadn't really thanked him yet for saving their literal necks an hour ago, but somehow, she figured he would argue any gratitude expressed over their escape from certain death would be deemed highly premature given the task before them.
"You mean for our one-way trip to Fort Dysentery? I'm about as ready as I'll ever be," Rufus replied grimly. "Just…just promise me," he offered after a short pause, "The first sign of trouble…"
"We'll leave," Lucy nodded, gulping down the boulder-sized lump of terror in her throat. "Wyatt and I will be in there with you…the whole time. You're not doing this alone….we're a team, right?"
Rufus paused his nervous fidgeting and caught Lucy's eye, his mouth slowly breaking into a smile as he did so. "Yeah," he nodded, gratitude etched all over his face, "that's right…we're a team."
The trek to Duquesne was uneventful and quiet - no doubt, in part, to the promise Nonehelema had made them. While Wyatt was grateful for the mercy she had shown them, he wasn't quite convinced she had given them good intel, however - something he whispered to Lucy as they made their way through the woods.
"Who's to say she didn't send some of her men off to inform the French what we were up to?"
"Maybe she did," Lucy shrugged, "but after all of that talk about not having honor…I really don't think she would lie to us."
"You've never been in a war," Wyatt surmised grimly. "Honor means different things to different people."
"And what does it mean to you?" Lucy pressed.
"I don't know," Wyatt shrugged, "I guess I always thought of honor as something that's earned…not something that somebody has." Grunting as he clambered over a fallen log, he continued, "A terrorist could claim he has honor because he's willing to die and take hundreds of other innocent lives with him for the greater good…"
"You mean like Flynn?" Lucy asked.
"Yeah," Wyatt shrugged, "I guess…doesn't make it true from our point of view now, does it?"
"Hmmm….I see what you mean," Lucy observed with a huff, "But I still don't think Nonhelema's aim was to trick us…not when she could have just ordered her men to kill us straight away."
As the walls of the fort emerged in the woods before them, though, Wyatt cast one more uneasy glance at Lucy, silently asking the question he had asked countless times in the past few hours "Are you sure?" half hoping she would express some doubt.
Because that would be it for him. The one and only thing he needed to abort this crazy-ass scheme they had. The Lifeboat, he knew, wasn't a guarantee….hell, it was more or less suicide, Yet, they had all agreed…months ago, that no matter the dangers, no matter the costs, they would risk everything for that 1 billionth of a chance to return safely home.
Now, however, it felt as though they were standing at a precipice…staring down certain death no matter which path they chose. What was absolutely inevitable? No matter the path, no matter the choice - there would be no going back.
All he needed was a word from Lucy…just one word…and he would act. He didn't know where they'd go, what they'd do…but he'd make damn sure they were all safe.
Just as she had done countless times before, however, Lucy met his gaze with a quiet, yet fierce determination as if reminding him of how far they'd come. This time, however, she escalated her resolve, gripping Wyatt by the arm and leading him forward towards the gates of Fort Duquesne. "Just follow my lead," she whispered to him as she approached the gate guard.
He was beyond impressed by how collected she seemed as she rattled off in French to the guard at the gate, even though he could feel the tremor in her hand. Far from being suspicious, the soldier nodded at them both sympathetically, ushering them inside and pointing out what Lucy later whispered explained was the medical tent.
"Okay, the hard part's over," she murmured as they marched through the camp together "we're inside."
"What about Rufus?" Wyatt muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Glancing over her shoulder, Lucy nodded, "He's at the forge." Gripping his arm harder, she continued to navigate them through the camp, doing her best to convey to any curious onlooker that they belonged. Wyatt noted, however, the slight tremor in her hand had increased and her determined march was faltering. Whether the reality of their situation had finally hit her, or whether the fort itself was conjuring up some distressing memories for her, he wasn't sure, but what he did know was Lucy was on the verge of cracking up. With his free hand, he quickly covered her trembling fingers with his own, squeezing them in reassurance…a move that did not go unappreciated.
Lucy's quick, determined march to nowhere in particular, slowed - the tension she was harboring visibly releasing as a hint of smile played on her lips. "Thanks, I needed that," she admitted ruefully.
"Let's just hope Rufus can find everything we need so we can get the hell out of here." Wyatt murmured back quietly, before their way was suddenly blocked by a plain-clothed Frenchman gesticulating towards the pair of them and jabbering away.
Wyatt's initial instinct was to subtly beat the shit out of the man, but remembering he was supposed to be a wounded French soldier and that Lucy had told him to follow her lead, he abated.
Though Lucy appeared a bit rattled and riled by the conversation, she didn't miss a beat in her response - not that he could tell anyway - and so his instinctive reaction was soon replaced with relief. That feeling, however, was soon replaced with alarm again, as he found himself being led into what he ultimately realized was a medical tent.
Looking to Lucy for guidance, Wyatt once again, suspended his impulse to make use of his finely-honed skills and get them the hell out of what was sure to be an awkward situation. He watched, however, with growing alarm, as the Frenchman pulled out various rusty instruments - the purposes of which - he was pretty damn sure he didn't want to know.
So horrified was he by the sight of one particularly invasive looking syringe that he nearly missed Lucy hissing in his ear, "Hit him."
"What?"
"Hit him!" she hissed back.
Not needing any more clarification…or reason, for that matter, Wyatt did as he was told - rearing back and punching the Frenchman squarely in the jaw until he lay sprawled on the ground at their feet.
"What was he going to do?" Wyatt asked.
"Trust me - you don't want to know." Lucy replied grimly…which was enough for Wyatt to understand that whatever it was - had to have been bad.
Seizing his arm once more Lucy led them out of the tent and back into the sunshine where they were both relieved to see Rufus racing towards them with a look of pure triumph on his face, "Got it," he breathed out.
"Good." Wyatt replied, "Then let's get the hell out of here…"
No sooner had he uttered those words, however, then the broken and bloodied remnants of the French army, led by a despondent looking Louis and Francis Coulon, came limping through the main gates of the fort, essentially cutting off their planned escape route.
"Shit," Wyatt gritted out, stopping them all in their tracks, "What the hell are we going to do now?" Not waiting for an answer, he scanned the perimeter of the fort, looking for any possible method of escape. He was about to give up hope, suggest they lay low somewhere and slip out of the fort undetected after nightfall when he spied what looked to be a ladder leaning upon a freshly built wall on the far end of the fort. "Come on," he urged, "Let's go."
Upon reaching the ladder, however, Rufus observed, "Um…I get what you're trying to do here, Wyatt….but isn't that gonna be one hell of a high jump off this thing?"
"Beats facing a firing squad," Wyatt noted gruffly, urging him up the ladder as a cry of alarm sounded somewhere behind them.
Hearing it, Rufus demured, "Yeah, I see your point." As he scrambled up the ladder behind Lucy, he added, "I'm just gonna say it, 1754 sucks."
It took ages to make their way towards the Lifeboat, with Wyatt insisting they walk miles out of their way before returning to where they first landed in 1754 lest they had been followed from Duquesne.
Seeing it there after so many months, covered in tendrils of ivy, was a bit overwhelming for Lucy, who practically burst into tears as it came into view. "I can't believe we made it," she gasped as she, Wyatt and Rufus began clearing the Lifeboat of its camouflage. "I can't believe this is almost over."
"It's not over yet," Wyatt reminded her. "Until we are back in 2016, it's not over."
"And that isn't even a guarantee," Rufus reminded them. "Let's just pray Mason found that damn protocol."
"What do we do if they haven't?" Wyatt asked.
"We die?" Rufus suggested with a shrug, "I have literally no idea…like I said before, we could end up in the damn ocean or on the top of Mt. Everest without the nav system guiding us." Seeing Lucy's paling face, he added, "But hey, is we stay here, we're dead anyway, so why not risk everything to save our skins, right?"
"Right." Wyatt replied, looking not at all convinced that this was the best course. In fact, he was thinking that maybe they could craft themselves a raft and float a couple of hundred miles down the river and have better odds. "Listen," he asked Rufus quietly after a while, "how can we…I don't know…increase our chances that they'll have found this thing?"
"Well, protocol is to look if we haven't returned in a week…and I know Mason wouldn't just leave us out here…surely by now they would've found something…"
"But what if they've given up?" Lucy offered quietly. Both men turned to look at her, surprised that she had been standing near, listening. "After being here so many months…what if they've given us up for dead? Told our families…"
"We're missing in action?" Wyatt supplied.
"After so long, how can we even explain to our families where we've been?" Lucy wondered ou tloud. "My mother must be going crazy…how can I just show up after months and act like nothing happened?" She shook her head, "What if the reality we go back to is completely different? Months? What could Flynn have done in months?"
"Well," Rufus offered, "we have a time machine. Who says we have to go back months after we left?" Shaking his head, he offered, "We can go back whenever the hell we want…we just need to make sure we give Mason enough time to realize we're missing and find the damn protocol."
"What would an operation like that look like?" Wyatt asked.
"I don't know," Rufus replied with a shrug, "two, three weeks? That's a hell of a lot easier to explain away than a couple of months."
"That's true," Lucy agreed warily. "I just wish we knew for certain…"
"Don't we all?" Rufus offered with a scoff. "It'd make my job a hell of a lot less stressful, I'll tell you that." Yanking the last bit of ivy free from the Lifeboat, he assured, "Look, for what it's worth, I'm not planning on dying today…which is why I'm willing to risk ending up in the middle of Fallujah rather than take my chances with not one but two…three if you count the Shawnee…armies looking to murder us."
With the Lifeboat now free of most of its cover, Rufus immediately set to work cannibalizing the navigation system, using the wires to repair the time machine circuitry damaged by the C-4. Once finished, he set to work creating a capacitors to assist in powering the Lifeboat using the old bottles retrieved from Duquesne, the coil, and the foil.
"Oh come on," Wyatt sneered, observing his handiwork, "that can't actually work."
"Oh ye of little faith," Rufus returned with a huff, "It should work enough for one trip….course, we won't know for sure til the rings start spinning."
"And if they don't?" Lucy asked with some trepidation, catching Wyatt's eye.
For a moment, no one said a word, all of them seemingly contemplating the possibility that despite all of their efforts and hopes, their plans - desperate as they were - would come to nothing.
"They will." Rufus said finally, with a determination
"And if they don't," Wyatt added quietly, so that only Lucy could hear, "we'll make it up as we go…right?"
"Right."
Lucy hoped that she sounded more confident than she felt…because the truth of the matter was - she was terrified. Jumping through space and time in the Lifeboat was already bad enough, but to clamber into that rust bucket knowing that there were billion to one odds stacked against you? Of course, staying in the 18th century was completely out of the question. As Rufus said, with the French, the British and the Shawnee looking for any excuse to murder them where they stood, she knew the likelihood of living out a long and prosperous life in this century was slim to none. Those odds were never any good anyway, but with the advancements they had made...the antibiotics, the washing machine, the skills each of them had acquired and honed during their time here…they had to have been better than a billion to one, right?
Try as she might to hide her doubts and insecurities, however, Wyatt seemed to sense her uneasiness. She was clearing out the Lifeboat of the supplies hastily tossed within all those months ago, when Wyatt stood close by her and whispered, "You know…there are worse things than being stuck here…"
Lucy let out an hysteric laugh, "Like winding up on the bottom of the ocean? Yeah, you can say that again…"
"I'm just saying," Wyatt continued with some hesitation, "it's not too late to pull the plug on this. If you don't want to risk it…"
"How could we not risk it?" Lucy argued, though her argument felt feeble. "We've come this far, right?"
"Exactly," Wyatt agreed, "We've come this far…when we first got stuck here, I gotta admit, I thought every one of us wouldn't have lasted more than a couple of weeks at most out here…and yet, here we are."
Lucy turned to him, "What are you saying?"
"I'm just saying," Wyatt continued with a deep breath, "we don't have to risk winding up in the bottom of the ocean. We can get the hell away from here…away from all this damn war…"
"So we should just give up?"
"It's not giving up," Wyatt argued, "It's…it's…" Wyatt sighed heavily, "Look, I'll respect whatever decision you make…I just wanted to put it out there…we can survive here."
"You're leaving this decision up to me?" Lucy charged with a smirk, "You realize I'm just one member of this team? Because that's what we are, Wyatt…we're a team." She nodded at him meaningfully, "It's not that I haven't thought about…it's just…we don't belong here. Staying here might be the easiest thing…hell, it might even be the safest thing…who knows? But is it the right thing?"
"Right by who?" Wyatt scoffed. "Lucy, there's no rule book for any of this - okay? You said it yourself - Flynn has probably already messed up history so much…what the hell difference would it make if we lived a quiet life away from all of this or jumped in the Lifeboat and took a billion to one chance at getting out of here?"
"It wouldn't make much of a difference…to us," she agreed quietly. "If we die in a few hours, or die in a few years...we never make it back to the present. But Wyatt," she added with a frown, "If we get this right…if this works…it could make all the difference in the world for history, for our families…I could get Amy back…and you," she nodded meaningfully as tears sprang to her eyes, "you could get Jessica back. Isn't that what we're fighting for…what you're fighting for?"
At the mention of his dead wife's name, Wyatt flinched and backed away from Lucy. Shamefaced, he shook his head, fighting back his own tears as he admitted, "I don't know anymore…I just know…" he swallowed hard, before shaking his head and gritting out in frustration, "you're right…this is what we're fighting for."
Without saying another word, Wyatt snatched up the patch Rufus had made in John Fraser's barn and set to work repairing the outside of the Lifeboat. Lucy watched him work for a few moments, before she set to work organizing the supplies they were leaving behind. She didn't know why she was doing it, why it even mattered…but she felt almost obligated to leave their former camp in a somewhat orderly fashion - as if history would judge them harshly if she didn't.
Her efforts, while largely ignored by Wyatt, were noticed by Rufus who stopped his own work momentarily to comment on the futility of it all, "You realize no one is gonna give a damn if those blankets are folded or not?"
"I'll care," Lucy snapped back. "I just….I don't know, I can't think of leaving this place in a mess that's all."
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder as Lucy sat huddled by a tree, neatly arranging the blankets into piles, understanding more than Rufus did that Lucy was coping with her nerves the best way she knew how. None of them had any control over what would happen once they stepped foot in that Lifeboat…so Lucy, being Lucy…was desperately trying to control what she could - in this case…the mess from their former camp.
Rufus, however, would not let it go and continued to make snide comets about her "completely unnecessary" endeavors until Wyatt kicked him hard in the shins. "Just leave her the hell alone, Rufus," he hissed.
"But she…" At Wyatt's glare, however, Rufus thought better of making any further arguments, focusing instead on his bucket list of must haves once they landed back in the present. "I'm telling you, the minute we're out of this damn century, I'm getting out of these clothes and wrapping myself into a damn hoodie."
"Is that before or after you have one of those twinkie things?" Lucy asked with a smile,
"Oh man, a chocodile?" Rufus mused happily, "I will eat an entire box of those…after I eat an enormous pile of tacos and down a couple of beers."
"If you get us out of here alive," Wyatt promised, "I will personally buy you those beers."
"And me!" Lucy agreed. "After I take the longest shower of my life, of course."
"What about you, Wyatt?" Rufus pressed, "What's the first thing you're gonna do once we get out of this century?"
Wyatt stilled. He hadn't really thought seriously about what he would do once he got back to the present, because in his mind, it was an exercise in futility. While he absolutely supported the attempt to get back to the present, he wasn't entirely convinced, even now, that it would be successful. It was a suicidal plan…so to make plans beyond the here and now seemed pointless. Looking at Lucy and Rufus though, whose hopeful smiles were doing a piss poor job of hiding the fear behind their eyes, Wyatt decided for optimism over realism.
"A shower and a beer sounds good enough for me."
"Well then," Lucy added with a smile, "I'd say we have a date, don't you?"
Still not wholly convinced they would live beyond a few minutes of entering that damn Lifeboat, Wyatt nodded, hardly allowing himself to meet Lucy's eye as he replied, "Whatever you say, ma'am."
Wyatt wiped the excess resin from the patch and stood back to admire his handiwork. It wasn't a perfect fix by any means, but if helped protect that circuitry as they made their desperate jump through time and space, he was satisfied that he, at least, had done his small part to help them survive the trip.
"Nice job," Lucy assessed, standing behind him.
Turning, he smirked at her, still not able to meet her eye as he muttered his thanks. "Yeah, well…let's just see if it holds." He made to move away, unable to bear the thought of coming so far, surviving so much, only to die on the trip back home and losing the two most important people in his life, when Lucy stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"You know," she whispered, as she stepped nearer to him, "I know this is a billion to one shot, but…there's nobody I'd rather take this shot with…than you and Rufus."
Wyatt's eyes met hers and in that moment he knew his biggest fear was not so much about dying himself…but failing to keep Lucy safe. The thought of what might happen if they did end up in the bottom of some ocean…to watch her die in front of him, to be helpless to help her…it was more than he could stand. She meant the world and more to him…and she had no damn idea.
Grasping her hand, Wyatt intertwined his fingers with her own, "Whatever happens, Lucy…I need you to kn…"
His heartfelt sentiment, however, was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of hooves. "Horses," he announced in alarm, stepping protectively in front of Lucy, urging her to take shelter inside the Lifeboat before diving in after her.
"Hurry up, Rufus!" Wyatt yelled out, as the French emerged into the clearing, rearing their horses back in fright at the strange sight before them. Obediently, Rufus sealed the door of the Lifeboat and went straight to work powering up the time machine.
"Here we go," he announced, as Wyatt quickly worked to fasten Lucy's harness.
"Go where? We're not going anywhere!" Wyatt observed as the Lifeboat stuttered and shuddered around them. If that weren't disconcerting enough, the unmistakable sound of bullets ricocheting off the outside of the time machine was enough for Wyatt to add, "That patch isn't as strong as the rest of this rust bucket, Rufus…if they hit it."
"You are not helping!" Rufus exclaimed angrily.
"Come on Rufus," Lucy pleaded, "get us out here!"
"Working on it…working on it…" Rufus muttered, before he gave a shout in exclamation, "Got it!" At that, the Lifeboat vibrated with a force that had Lucy gasping out in fear as the sound of the rings groaning into a spin rent the air. Faster and faster they spun, shaking the time machine with more force than any of them remembered. Fearing the worst, Wyatt blindly reached out, and grasped Lucy's hand just as the Lifeboat gave an almighty jolt and sent them reeling.
Lucy desperately grasped onto Wyatt hand as her other sought out Rufus' as the Lifeboat violently hurtled them through space and time towards, what she could only pray, was home. Never, in all of their various adventures in that damn time machine had she ever been so grateful for the harness that kept her firmly positioned in the seat, even though she felt as if her entire world was somersaulting around her.
"Almost there…I think," Rufus gritted out beside her, his hand slipping out of hers to blindly navigate them the rest of the way.
With her left hand free now, Lucy grasped onto the only other thing she could, her harness belt - while Wyatt still held the fingers of her right hand tightly within his own. The Lifeboat sputtered and jerked, knocking them almost sideways with the force of a freight train, but still Wyatt held tight to her…and for that, she was oh so thankful.
As terrifying as it was to blindly trust they would be guided safely back to Mason and not end up in the middle of an ocean, somehow it was made less so by the two individuals whose fates were sealed with hers. After all, in those horrifying few moments after realizing they were stranded in 1754, they had kept each other sane…worked together to survive….to thrive, even and despite every single odd stacked against them, here they were…doing the impossible.
She just hoped their luck would hold out a little longer.
"Hang on!" Rufus cried out suddenly as the time machine lurched, spun and shuddered until finally - with a sickening jolt - it stopped with an almighty crash. Tilted slightly sideways, Lucy fought against gravity as she attempted to right herself in her seat which felt as if it had been knocked off its base.
Breathing heavily, she looked towards Rufus, "Did we make it?"
Rufus, whose hands were still clenched tightly on the controls merely looked at her, looking almost afraid to move.
"There's only one way to find out," Wyatt grunted as he unclicked his harness. Fumbling slightly out of his seat, he kneeled before the door, meeting Lucy's eye as he did so. With one anxious nod, Wyatt turned to the door, looking fully determined to face, head-on, whatever was on the other side. As the hatch gave way and opened however, emotion got the best of him as there, staring back at them were the familiar faces of Agent Christopher, Jiya and Mason.
So stunned and overwhelmed was he, he practically fell out of the Lifeboat, his knees visibly shaking from their harrowing trip back to the present. As the team at Mason met him with open arms, however, he turned back towards the Lifeboat, just in time to retake Lucy's hand. "You okay?" he breathed out as she stumbled out after him.
Too emotional for words, Lucy merely nodded frantically before gripping onto the nearest desk to keep from toppling over as her own knees quaked beneath her.
"What the hell happened?" Agent Christopher demanded as she stared at them in awe, taking in their muddied and harried appearances. "Do you have any idea how worried we were about you?"
Smirking at Lucy and Rufus, Wyatt shook his head, "It's gonna be one hell of a brief, I'll you that."
Lucy nearly wept as she stood under the spray of the shower in the locker room, reveling in the joy that was indoor plumbing. After months of luke-warm baths at less than regular intervals, a steaming hot shower was almost a religious experience.
Centuries-old muck and grime pooled at her feet as she washed and scrubbed away every remnant of the 18th century.
Well, almost every remnant.
Angry welts still imprinted her sides where her corset had recently been and her hand and legs still bore scars from her many travails in the Pennsylvania wilderness. Her fingernails were crusted deep with mud, every crevice of her skin felt like it needed to be worked over with sandpaper to get every scrap of dirt off, an entire bottle of shampoo almost wasn't sufficient to get grime and leaves out of her hair…but eventually, thankfully she began to feel like herself again - though leaving the comfort of a steaming shower took more than a little willpower..
Stepping out of the shower, she delighted in the feel of her silky, freshly shaven legs and was almost brought to tears again as she smoothed lotion over her newly cleaned skin. Deodorant, perfume, make-up… actual underwear….jeans…she had taken all of them for granted and now she was delighting in each and every single item still carefully stowed away in her locker.
Well, almost every item.
A ring - garish and overly large - twinkled at her from the top shelf, a grim reminder of what awaited her in the present. Slowly, she lifted her left hand - the rustic ring given to her by Wyatt all those months ago, still gracing her finger. It was beautiful…not just for its simplicity…but because in it, she saw every trial they had faced together in the last few months…and while she hardly needed the reminder, she found herself unable to take it off.
Stuffing Noah's ring into her purse, she decided it wasn't imperative to face her Twilight-zone reality so soon after getting back. No, she would need time to adjust…and uncoupling herself from Wyatt?
That was going to take time.
She had done it to herself - "married" him despite knowing she would be playing a dangerous game with her heart. At the time though, she hardly believed…hardly allowed herself to believe that this…coming back to the present…would ever be possible. Sure, she hoped they would be successful…but to actually do it? No. Despite being bound and determined to never give up on a chance to make it back home, mentally, she had resigned herself to living out the rest of her life in the 18th century. And so…marrying Wyatt? It had just made sense.
Here in 2016, though…
"It's stupid," Lucy gritted out, slamming her locker door shut, determined to not allow herself to give rise to any hope that whatever familiarity had sprung up between her and Wyatt then would carry over into the here and now. He was in love with his wife and now - now that they were back in the present - he had a chance to get her back again.
When Lucy finally emerged from the locker room, she found herself confronted by Rufus and Wyatt, both of whom were lazily lounging on the bench opposite the door…well at least, they had been. As the door to the locker room swung shut behind her, Wyatt scrambled to his feet, looking more handsome than she had remembered and Rufus, well…Rufus was looking more comfortable than he had in ages, donning a hoodie and sweatpants.
"Well, look who finally got ready," he announced teasingly, adding, "Wyatt and I were about to form a rescue mission - we thought you might have drowned in the shower - you've only been in there for two hours…"
"I was not in there for two hours," Lucy countered defensively. "It was just…nice to enjoy indoor plumbing again, that's all. Besides," she added with a smirk, "I told you this was the first thing I was going to do when I got back in this century…so can't blame me for being a woman of my word, can you?"
"Yeah, and you also said you'd buy me a drink…"
"That was some heavy-duty piloting back there," Wyatt admitted, grateful for an excuse to wrench his eyes away from Lucy. "I don't think I'll ever let you pay for a drink again."
"Is that a promise?" Rufus pressed, "because I will take you up on that."
"I'll happily buy you a drink," Lucy offered as she shuffled through her purse, "but first, I've got a couple of errands to run. Can I meet you at the bar?"
"We just got back and you have errands to run?" Rufus asked incredulously. "What the hell kind of errands could you possibly have?"
Lucy glanced at Wyatt and smiled, "It's a surprise….I'll meet you there, okay?"
"Here it is," Lucy giggled, "The Pennsylvania Orb Incident - in 1754, a group of French soldiers claimed to have seen a giant metal orb with spinning rings that disappeared right before their very eyes in what has been called the one of the earliest UFO sightings in North America."
"That was us?" Wyatt asked, highly amused.
"That was us," Lucy nodded, laughing, to which Rufus proposed they all raise a glass to the French.
Wyatt raised his mug of beer, smiling across the table at Lucy who looked even more stunning than she had at Mason. He couldn't take his eyes off of her...and that was a problem, because he was already getting crap from Rufus about still being married to her.
Rufus, of course, didn't know that Lucy had signed a different name to the marriage certificate, essentially nullifying any binding arrangement of the kind (as if a 1754 wedding could be binding in the 21st century anyway) - but still, he had to pull it together. The last thing he needed was for Lucy to think he expected anything from her on that end now that they were back. They had both agreed, after all…their marriage…it was just part of the job.
"Well now all I need is to eat my weight in Chocodiles," Rufus announced, as he finished his beer.
"About that," Lucy giggled, before smiling at her two teammates and producing a bag from her purse.
'No!" Rufus exclaimed as Lucy handed over its contents. "Chocodiles!? Is this where you ran off to?" At Lucy's nod, Rufus shook his head again, "No way."
"They're all yours," Lucy assured him with a smile, "Enjoy…you deserve it."
"Hear, hear." Wyatt agreed taking another sip of his beer.
"Well what can I say? Teamwork makes the dream work, guys," Rufus surmised as he broke open a chocodile and happily devoured it. "I never would have thought we'd make it out of there alive if it hadn't been for you two."
"We were lucky," Lucy nodded in agreement, "we had so many close calls."
"I'll say," Rufus agreed, "which is why I have decided that from here on out, I'm going to live life to the fullest. So, if you two will excuse me…I've got to meet someone at a nice little place across town…"
"What do you mean you're meeting someone," Lucy asked in confusion, as Rufus shucked on his coat, "we just got back…who…" she began before gasping in realization. "It's Jiya, isn't it?"
"That would be none of your business," Rufus replied, eyeing her meaningfully. "You might have bought me the most delicious snack cakes on the planet, but that doesn't mean I owe you anything. I got all of our asses back here in one piece…"
"Now wait a minute…" Lucy countered, but Rufus was already making his way towards the exit. "It's Jiya," Lucy said, smiling to herself as she watched him leave. "It's totally happening."
"You don't know that for sure." Wyatt countered.
"No?" Lucy smirked, "Who else would it be? He did tell us, he had a thing for her…and after everything we've been through…" she colored slightly and shrugged, "it certainly would fall into embracing a more carpe diem mindset, that's all."
"Well, here's to seizing the day," Wyatt toasted, though he felt his cheeks grow red hot as he did so.
With Rufus gone, Wyatt felt all the awkwardness of his new situation with Lucy. Given that they had slept in the same bed for the past few months, spent countless hours alone together, he wasn't sure why sitting alone with her in a bar was any different…but it was. Without the pretense of their phony marriage hanging over their heads, they were just Wyatt and Lucy…two very different people who lived two very different lives drawn together by an extraordinary set of circumstances.
Yes, that's all they were.
No longer facing a life of struggle in the 18th century nor the expectations that came with it, Lucy was no longer dependent on him for her welfare and security…and he was completely fine with that. Here, in 2016, she was independent, successful…hell, she was an ivy-league professor and author and he? He was just a grunt from the wrong side of the tracks.
"You know," she hummed as she took a sip from her white wine, "I never thought I'd see civilization again. I was fully prepared to live the rest of my life trying to emulate Mrs. Poe."
Wyatt chuckled, " Not Mrs. Poe…Mary, maybe…or" he amended, coloring slightly, "Jane….I guess."
Frowning, Lucy nodded, "I never did thank you for what you did for them." Wyatt shifted uncomfortably as she pressed, "I..I know it wasn't easy, but…you did the right thing." Taking out her phone, she scrolled through her screen, turning and showing him a photo taken from around the turn of the century, "Their family," she explained with a smile, "all together to dedicate a historical marker showing where she was abducted."
Wyatt took the phone from her and smirked, admitting with a shrug, "What can I say? You were right….at least about some things."
Lucy paused slightly, looking at him as if she weren't sure whether he was being serious or not. Frowning, she offered, "Well, for the record…I wasn't right about everything. In my head," she explained, "Jane's reunion with John was something incredibly romantic and happy…but in reality…"
"Yeah," Wyatt agreed with a frown, his last conversation with John Fraser weighing heavily on his mind. "It hurt him, doing that to Mary," he muttered quietly, not looking up, "but he didn't have a choice."
"You did, though," Lucy replied in kind and Wyatt's eyes shot up to hers. Shrugging, she smiled, "You didn't have to go after Jane."
"Oh yeah," Wyatt dismissed, frowning again, "But what was I gonna do? Sit there and let them call you a liar?" He smirked at her, "You were pretty damn brave standing up to them like that."
"It didn't feel brave," Lucy admitted, chuckling. "I just…couldn't stand the idea of her being left out there…alone…not when I could help her."
Wyatt smiled at her softly, overflowing with pride that Lucy Preston was the woman she was. He had no doubt that if push came to shove she would have gone after Jane Fraser on her own…because that is who Lucy Preston was - selfless, caring…and a hell of a lot braver than she gave herself credit for.
But in speaking of Jane Fraser, Wyatt was reminded of the arguments that followed - arguments that had come out of his desperate determination to keep her safe…and Lucy's thoughts, it seemed, weren't too far from his own.
"I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused…you went through so much because of me."
"It was worth it, Lucy" Wyatt sighed. Feeling like he might have said too much, he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, "Anyway, I um…need to apologize to you too…I didn't mean to…when I said that stuff about the journal…"
"I should have told you about that too," Lucy interjected, nodding apologetically. "Back then…before we ever left for 1754. It was never because I didn't trust you," Lucy explained, "it was because…" she hesitated, groaning, "ugh…it's stupid."
"What's stupid?"
Lucy eyed him warily, before sighing heavily and admitting, "That journal? It…it scared me."
"Scared you? How?"
Lucy shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed, "I don't know…here's this wanted terrorist who has a journal…in my handwriting…telling me I gave it to him - told him to do…all of this." She shook her head, "Why…why would I do that? Wyatt, If I'm meant to help Flynn…"
"That's the thing - you're not meant to do anything, Lucy," Wyatt countered with a shrug of his own.
"What do you mean? If that journal is real…then that means at some point…"
Wyatt scoffed and shook his head, laughing at her.
At first, Lucy was somewhat affronted by his reaction, but upon further reflection, she smirked at him, "Life's just a roll of the dice, right? Chance?" Chuckling as she took toyed with her wine, she nodded, "You know I have a different opinion on that."
"I know you do," Wyatt replied with a smirk of his own. Determined to convince her, he leaned forward and nodded to her wine glass. "Take a sip of wine." Eyeing him suspiciously, Lucy hesitated. "Come on, ma'am…humor me."
Still eyeing Wyatt with curiosity, she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, setting it down on the table with a look of expectation. "Okay…so I took a drink…"
" Why did you take it?" Wyatt challenged. "Because some pre-written journal said you were meant to take it?"
"You told me to…"
"Yeah, but you ultimately made the choice, right?" Wyatt argued. "No one forced you to do it. You could have just as easily ignored me. You made the choice." He shrugged, "And that is what history is - choices. Some small. Some stupid. Some monumental. But those choices? They make us."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying….if you don't like the future Flynn has plotted out for you - then rewrite it." He nodded at her, "You are not required to write a journal just because Flynn says some other version of you did."
"Mmm…that's very good advice, Mr. Logan," Lucy hummed. "I'll keep that in mind if I ever get the urge to write about…all of this."
His hand was resting on the table next to his glass of beer just inches away from her own similarly resting on the table next to her wine glass and in that moment, he found himself itching to touch her, to pretend for just a little longer that they were something more than what they actually were, but with every passing moment, he found himself second-guessing every instinct he felt in regards to her, to them .
For the past few months, it was natural to take her hand…hell it was natural to curl up beside her and drift off to sleep. Now, surrounded as they were by real couples in the world they actually lived in - it felt….wrong…presumptuous even to take her hand like he had done so many times before in 1754.
Which is why it took him completely by surprise when Lucy shifted her own hand just slightly to the left and brushed against his fingers.
That slight bit of contact - the first they had had, really since landing back in 2016 - hit him like a thunderbolt. Catching her eye, he found himself flushing as she smirked shyly back at him. He hadn't done any of this in so long, he felt out of practice…and certainly not confident that he should even try….but despite all of his own reservations, he found himself slowly inching his fingers closer towards hers.
He had just managed to brush up against them when a cold dose of reality came blowing through the now open door of the bar in the form of a tall, dark and well-dressed stranger.
"Lucy?"
Though Wyatt had never laid eyes on her fake fiance before in his life, he had no doubt, the man currently making a beeline for their table was the guy. Classy, stylish and obviously wealthy, the man looked every bit like someone from Lucy Preston's crowd. Looking down at his own clothes and calloused hands, Wyatt couldn't help but scoff at the crazy idea he had briefly entertained that his relationship with Lucy could ever be anything more than what it was….but it was still kind of gratifying to see Lucy struggling to put a name to the face even as he greeted her with a kiss to the cheek.
"Oh…it's…uh… you ," she gasped, and Wyatt could see her eyes darting back and forth as if trying to recall some long distant memory. While he had teased her once upon a time that she didn't even know the doctor's last name, it now appeared she didn't know his first one either.
"My God, Lucy…where the hell have you been? I've been calling you for days!" he exclaimed, clearly worried. Wyatt tried to ignore the intense feeling of hatred he felt for the man as he hugged Lucy close, reminding himself cooly even as the man pressed a kiss to Lucy's face, that she was not actually his wife .
Despite the fact, he suddenly noticed with a jolt that she was still wearing the ring he had given her. Wyatt was halfway between feeling mortified and elated over Lucy's oversight when the doctor, himself lifted Lucy's left hand with a puzzled expression, "What's this?"
Flushing red hot, Lucy pulled her hand away and began shakily rifling through her purse, "It's um…it's….I wear this…um…to keep the other one safe," she lied. Retrieving the gargantuan rock out of her purse, Lucy flashed it momentarily and roughly stuffed it on her finger with a sheepish grin, still looking like she had no idea what the hell to call her fiance who once again demanded to know why she had all but disappeared for, what was for him, two weeks.
"I…I'm sorry…I was working on a remote project…I didn't have service and I…um…we were celebrating," she said, turning sheepishly towards Wyatt. "I….I didn't realize you had called…"
"Are you kidding?" he exclaimed, "Lucy, your mom and I have been worried sick. We kept calling over to that new job of yours and they kept telling us you weren't available." He lifted his phone, "I was just about to put out a missing persons report when your mom called and told me she had finally heard from you."
""I….I didn't realize…I'm sorry…" she stammered, looking once again towards Wyatt who raised his eyebrows at her and took a sip of his beer.
As if just noticing him, the doctor turned to Lucy warily, "Um…aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
"What?" Lucy breathed out, before shaking her head and stammering, "Y-yes….yes, of course, Wyatt, this is um….this…is….he's my…."
Hating to see her suffer, Wyatt stretched out his hand with a smile, "You must be Noah," he said, smiling even more broadly as he saw Lucy silently repeating the name in self-reprobation. "Lucy's told us all about you."
"Us?" Noah asked in confusion.
"Uh…yeah," Lucy interjected, "This is Wyatt…and you um…you just missed Rufus. They work with me at Mason."
"Oh is that so?" Noah asked, looking only mildly interested, "I uh…didn't realize you were so close to your co-workers." He said, eyeing Wyatt suspiciously as he added with a slight sneer, "I don't think she's ever mentioned you."
Wyatt smirked, fighting back the urge to retort that Lucy hadn't mentioned him in the entire six months they had spent in another century. Instead, he shrugged, opting for self-deprecation "Ah, well…there's not much to tell."
Lucy glared at him as if to tell him that absolutely was not true, but once again Noah was pulling her attention away. "Lucy, where have you been?"
"I told you…I had to take some time away for work," she groaned, "I didn't know it was going to be as long as it was…but," she said,glancing at Wyatt again, "we got back as soon as we could."
Again, Noah eyed Wyatt. "So you all went on this trip together?"
"Of course," Lucy replied, nodding at him earnestly, "I told you, they work with me."
"And do what, exactly? What is it you do now, Lucy?" Noah asked, "I don't understand, you disappear for days, no one knows where you are…and…"
"I know," Lucy groaned. "I know…but I can't tell you what I do….it's…it's classified."
Noah nodded, "Look, I'm not trying to overstep….I respect that you have your own life, Lucy….but would it be too much to ask that you give me a head's up the next time you plan to disappear for two weeks? I mean, I am your fiance, after all…."
At that, Lucy visibly jolted as if Noah's proclamation that he was her fiance had suddenly brought her back to the present. Looking immediately uncomfortable, she nodded, "You're right, I'm sorry….I'll um…I'll give you a heads up next time, okay?"
Noah answered by planting another kiss on her, this time to her lips…and once again, Wyatt had to fight the urge to punch him squarely in the face. It was what he did next, though that really got under his skin. Wrapping his arm around Lucy's waist, he urged, "Come on, I've got a cab waiting outside, let's go to dinner and you can tell me about your trip…well, what you can tell me anyway…"
"Oh," Lucy startled, pointing awkwardly to Wyatt, "I was…well I was…"
"I'm sure your co-worker understands, Lucy…don't you, Walter?"
Wyatt merely smirked back at him, more confident than ever that he wanted nothing more than to punch the smarmy asshole in the face.
"Wyatt," Lucy corrected, once again looking to him as if expecting him to answer for her. He, however, stayed silent, determined to stay the hell out of Lucy's personal life. If she wanted to go, she could…if she wanted to stay…well, he would be the last to complain about that.
Life was all about choices, right?
Finding no support from Wyatt, Lucy's confidence, however, faltered. "I uh….I guess I can do that…Wyatt? Are you….are you okay if I…"
Merely shrugging, Wyatt placed his beer to his lips, if anything but to keep himself from telling the self-important jackass now helping Lucy into her coat to 'go to hell'. Sighing heavily, Lucy grabbed her purse and slid out from behind the table, taking care to cast one last look at Wyatt as she offered him a half-hearted wave and walked out of the door.
Notes:
They're back! And I'm sure you all are cursing my name right now, which is why the next chapter is fresh on its heels. Hang tight. It's coming. Remember, I wrote the coming chapter at the same time I wrote the first chapter of this fic...many eons ago. So it's done - and has been done for AGES AND AGES just waiting for this moment. SIGH. My only warning for you is that it's SUPER long...and even then, I'm probably going to end up writing a short and sweet epilogue to tie everything up nicely.
Quick word on THIS chapter: You'll notice I changed the interaction they had with Nonhelema. I did that in part because some of that conversation occurred earlier in this piece, but secondly - and bear with me here - I had to change the reasoning for their release. It's a wonderful thing to want to believe that people in the past had 21st century progressive views on race/oppression...but the simple truth of the matter is folks, they didn't. That is an invention of Hollywood. many Native Americans had NO QUALMS of torturing, killing, raping and yes, even subjecting various people of all races (even their own) into slavery. The one constant in all of human history is the oppression of others...every civilization has done it at some point in their history...so I'm not pointing fingers here - I'm just pointing out that human beings, as a whole, have at one point in their history, treated others like garbage. For Nonhelema to see Rufus, therefore as a sympathetic figure...one with whom she could relate or even pity, just wouldn't be historically accurate. In those days, people were a commodity...and I'm not just talking about African Americans. On the frontier especially, men, women and children were either killed or used as bargaining chips for trade. Anybody ever read Calico Captive by Elizabeth George Speare? It's based on actual events from the diary of a young woman who was, herself, sold into indentured slavery in Canada after being captured by Native Americans in 1754. So again, it's a nice idea...but in reality, no...so I changed the narrative a bit - and I only make note of it because there's always someone who inevitably points out the differences as if they were some kind of oversight or mistake.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter - even if Noah had to come and ruin it all...but I promise you a happy ending.