The ticking of the Lifeboat echoed louder than usual.

Lucy Preston sat stiffly in her jump seat, gripping the edge of the harness like it could anchor her to the present. She glanced over at the console—no Rufus. He wasn't on this trip. Wyatt either. This time, it was just her and Flynn.

Well… that, and the emotional wrecking ball of a mission waiting for her on the other side of the time jump.

"You sure about this?" Flynn asked, not looking at her. His fingers danced over the controls with casual precision, like this wasn't the hundredth time they were risking their lives by literally breaking the laws of time.

Lucy inhaled slowly. "No."

Flynn smirked. "Good. That's how you know you're not crazy."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"You're welcome," he said, strapping himself in. "One trip back to 1871, coming up. Chicago. The Great Fire. And—what's the actual mission again?"

Lucy's jaw clenched. "That's classified."

Flynn raised an eyebrow. "You dragged me to the 19th century during an inferno, and you don't want to tell me why?"

"I'll handle it."

Flynn let out a soft laugh. "Sure. That's gone so well for us in the past."

Before she could snap back with her patented sarcastic clapback, the Lifeboat whooshed to life, shaking the cabin as it launched them back into history.

When the doors hissed open, heat and smoke assaulted them instantly.

They stepped out into chaos.

The Great Fire of Chicago was well underway. People screamed as they rushed through the cobblestone streets. Horses reared and bolted. Buildings groaned under the pressure of flames licking at their facades, collapsing one by one.

Lucy pulled a scarf over her mouth and ducked behind an alley, Flynn following close behind.

"I've got to find someone," she shouted over the roar.

Flynn peered around the corner. "Any chance this someone is not in the middle of the city currently collapsing like a tinderbox?"

Lucy didn't answer.

Which was an answer.

Flynn swore under his breath. "You couldn't have picked, I don't know, a calmer fire?"

Lucy spun to face him. "This isn't about the fire."

Flynn stared at her, the flickering light painting sharp angles across his face. "I figured."

They made their way through the chaos, dodging falling beams and overturned carts, until Lucy stopped in front of an old boarding house.

"This is it," she said, voice tight.

Flynn squinted at the sign. "This?"

"Third floor," she said. "Her name is Margaret Tilden. She's… someone my mother never talked about. I only found out about her recently from a journal entry my grandfather wrote. My great-great-grandmother."

Flynn blinked. "You came to the Great Fire of Chicago to meet your dead relative?"

"Not dead yet."

Flynn raised his arms. "You do realize if you interfere with your own family tree—"

"I'm not going to change anything," Lucy snapped. "I just want to know. I want to ask her why our family kept falling apart. Why every generation ends in heartbreak and manipulation. Why… why I was always set up to lose the people I love."

Flynn stared at her for a long beat. "That's a lot to put on a woman who probably doesn't know what a flushing toilet is."

"I need answers," Lucy said softly. "Even if they can't fix anything. I just need to hear the truth."

They climbed the stairs, smoke chasing them every step of the way. The third floor was already beginning to collapse, but Lucy pressed on, knocking frantically on the door of apartment 3B.

It swung open.

Margaret Tilden was younger than Lucy expected—maybe twenty, dressed in a soot-stained petticoat, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"Yes?" Margaret said, coughing slightly. "Are you lost?"

Lucy opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Flynn stepped in. "We were told to get you out. The building's about to go down."

Margaret blinked. "You work for the fire brigade?"

"No," Lucy said, finding her voice. "We're just here to help."

Margaret hesitated, looking around her tiny room. "My mother—she left to get help. I don't know if she's—"

"There's no time," Flynn said. "We have to move."

Lucy touched Margaret's arm gently. "We'll get you out. I promise."

They made it to the street just as the roof gave way behind them. Margaret stumbled, coughing, and Flynn ran ahead to flag down a rescue wagon.

Lucy stayed beside her great-great-grandmother.

"You okay?" she asked.

Margaret nodded. "I think so. Thank you."

Lucy studied her face—so open, so full of life. Nothing like her own mother's steely gaze.

"I… I wanted to ask you something," Lucy said quickly, before the moment slipped away.

Margaret blinked. "Do I know you?"

"No. But…" Lucy hesitated. "Do you believe people are doomed to repeat their family's mistakes?"

Margaret looked stunned. "That's quite the question."

Lucy swallowed. "I just wonder if… if you come from loss, does it mean you're destined to lose everything too?"

Margaret took her hand, unexpectedly warm. "Everyone comes from loss. But that doesn't mean we can't make something new. Different."

Lucy's throat tightened. "Even when it feels like the past is chasing you?"

"Especially then."

Flynn returned with the wagon. "Cavalry's here."

Lucy helped Margaret into the cart.

"You'll be okay," she said. "You'll survive. You'll go on to have a family."

Margaret paused, narrowing her eyes. "How do you know that?"

Lucy gave a wistful smile. "Just a hunch."

Back in the Lifeboat, Flynn didn't speak right away. He handed Lucy a bottle of water and checked the console.

"You okay?" he asked eventually.

Lucy leaned back in her seat, staring at the ceiling. "No. But I think I'm better than I was."

Flynn smirked. "Is that a breakthrough?"

"I'm not looking for a Hollywood ending," she said. "But maybe I don't have to carry everything. Maybe some of it belongs in the past."

Flynn nodded. "Then let's leave it there."

As the Lifeboat rumbled back to the present, Lucy thought about Margaret Tilden—about the fire, the smoke, the warmth of her hand. She didn't have all the answers.

But maybe she had enough.

Enough to move forward.

Enough to heal.

Enough to hope.