The hum of the Lifeboat's engines filled the air, a faint, pulsing sound that Lucy Preston had grown too familiar with over the past year. The battered time machine stood in the center of the bunker, a reminder of all the moments in history they had rewritten, all the sacrifices they had made. Lucy stood beside it, her arms crossed as she stared at the worn seats, her mind swirling with a thousand memories. Wyatt Logan's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

"You okay?" Wyatt asked, leaning against the console. His blue eyes were filled with concern, the kind he often masked behind his soldier's stoicism.

Lucy forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm fine. Just… thinking."

"That's not a 'fine' face," Rufus Carlin chimed in as he entered the room, a laptop tucked under his arm. "That's a 'the fate of the timeline depends on me' face. Which, let's be real, is your constant state of being."

"Thanks, Rufus," Lucy said with a soft laugh, grateful for his humor, even if it didn't ease the ache in her chest.

The lyrics of Taylor Swift's "That's When" played faintly in her mind, a bittersweet melody that seemed to echo her longing:
"I said I know when I said I need some time, need some space to think about all of this."

The Lifeboat's latest destination was Paris, 1793—deep in the turmoil of the French Revolution. Garcia Flynn stood near the briefing table, his dark gaze scanning the mission dossier as Jiya explained their objective.

"Rittenhouse operatives are planning to assassinate Maximilien Robespierre," Jiya said, pointing to a map. "We need to stop them. If they succeed, the timeline unravels, and the Revolution collapses."

"Lovely," Flynn muttered. "More chaos, as if Robespierre wasn't enough trouble on his own."

"History might call him 'The Incorruptible,' but he had a fragile balance of power," Lucy added, stepping forward. "If he dies too soon, the Revolution could spiral into anarchy."

Wyatt nodded, checking his gear. "So, we keep him alive long enough to play his part. Let's hope he's not too stubborn to listen."

As the Lifeboat landed, the team found themselves in the middle of a bustling Parisian square. The air was thick with tension, the shouts of revolutionaries mingling with the cries of vendors and the clang of distant church bells.

Lucy adjusted her bonnet, glancing at Wyatt as he straightened his jacket. "Remember, we're here to blend in, not start a revolution of our own."

Wyatt smirked. "I'll try to keep my sword-wielding to a minimum."

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Can we just focus on not getting guillotined, please?"

Flynn, as always, was a step ahead, already scanning the crowd for potential threats. "The Rittenhouse agents will be close. We need to split up—cover more ground."

"I'll stay with Lucy," Wyatt said immediately, earning a knowing look from Flynn.

"Of course you will," Flynn said dryly before turning to Rufus. "You and I will check the taverns. Revolutionaries love to talk after a few drinks."

"Lucky me," Rufus muttered as they disappeared into the crowd.

Lucy and Wyatt navigated the chaotic streets, their eyes peeled for any sign of danger. As they passed a group of citizens debating politics, Lucy couldn't help but admire the passion in their voices.

"It's fascinating, isn't it?" she said, glancing at Wyatt. "To see history come alive like this."

Wyatt shrugged, though his eyes held a flicker of awe. "I guess. But all I see is a powder keg waiting to explode."

"That's exactly what it is," Lucy said softly. "And we're here to keep the fuse from being lit too soon."

Wyatt stopped, his hand brushing hers. "You've got this, Lucy. You always do."

She met his gaze, her heart skipping a beat. "Thanks, Wyatt."

Meanwhile, Flynn and Rufus found themselves in a dimly lit tavern, the air heavy with smoke and the scent of stale wine. Flynn leaned against the bar, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

"This place is a breeding ground for conspiracy," Flynn said, lowering his voice. "If Rittenhouse is here, they won't be hard to find."

Rufus grimaced. "Great. Let's just hope they're not the sword-wielding type."

As they moved through the crowd, Flynn's instincts kicked in. He spotted a man slipping out the back door, his movements too deliberate to be casual.

"Follow me," Flynn said, his tone brooking no argument.

Rufus sighed. "Why is it always the sketchy back alleys?"

The confrontation with the Rittenhouse agents was swift and brutal. Flynn's gunfire echoed in the narrow streets as he and Rufus took cover behind crates. The operatives were determined, their mission clear: eliminate Robespierre at any cost.

"We're outnumbered," Rufus shouted, firing blindly around the corner. "Any brilliant ideas?"

"Hold them off," Flynn growled. "Lucy and Wyatt will be here soon."

When Lucy and Wyatt arrived, the scene was chaos. The gunfire drew the attention of nearby revolutionaries, who mistook the fight for a counter-revolutionary plot.

"Great," Lucy muttered. "Now we're fighting Rittenhouse and angry citizens."

Wyatt grinned, drawing his weapon. "Just another day at the office."

The team worked in unison, their movements seamless despite the chaos. When the dust finally settled, the Rittenhouse agents lay defeated, and Robespierre's fate was secure.

Back in the bunker, the team debriefed over lukewarm coffee. The weight of the mission hung heavy in the air, but there was also a sense of relief—a rare victory in their ongoing war.

"You did good out there," Flynn said to Lucy, his tone uncharacteristically warm.

"Thanks," Lucy said, meeting his gaze. "We all did."

As the others dispersed, Wyatt lingered, his eyes on Lucy. "You okay?"

Lucy nodded, though her heart felt heavy. "We saved history today. That's what matters."

"Yeah," Wyatt said softly. "But what about us?"

Lucy looked at him, her walls crumbling just a little. "Maybe that's something we'll have to figure out... when the world isn't falling apart."

Wyatt smiled faintly. "I'll hold you to that."

The lyrics of "That's When" echoed in Lucy's mind as she watched Wyatt walk away:
"You said, 'I know,' when I said, 'I need some time.'"

Because in the ever-changing tide of time, some things were worth waiting for—no matter how long it took.