Sudden Stop

"Falling in love doesn't hurt; it's the sudden stop that hurts so much..." - Unknown

As the low hum of conversation rose and fell from across the large, open communal area, Wyatt gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on the mission report in front of him. In light of the frustrating fact that he'd read the same paragraph four or five times now, with absolutely zero idea what it said, he was clearly failing on an epic level.

Already on dangerously thin ice with Denise Christopher for bringing Jess to the bunker, Wyatt knew better than to protest or even react when she'd abruptly dropped the tablet on the kitchen table without acknowledging his wife's presence beside him. They had been having coffee and trying to fill each other in a little more on the past six years when the NSA agent had, with barely-concealed irritation, ordered him to 'get up to speed' on the team's last mission to 1692 Salem, Massachusetts.

Considering Lucy's physical condition when she climbed out of the lifeboat two days ago, Wyatt was pretty sure reading the account of her ordeal was not going to be pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. Even overwhelmed as he was by the miracle of Jess being alive in this time line, once he returned to the bunker with his 'not-dead-after-all' wife in tow, the knowledge of where and when the lifeboat jumped to had filled Wyatt with an almost suffocating dread. Making matters worse was the bitter knowledge that Flynn had accompanied Lucy and Rufus in his place, and according to Jiya, he did so at Lucy's insistence.

That last little piece of information had instantly stuck in his craw. A visceral, completely illogical reaction, sure, after the way he basically dumped Lucy less than a couple days after sleeping with her (over the phone, for Christ's sake). No, Wyatt had absolutely no right to such feelings, not any more, especially not after the way Lucy, being Lucy, had selflessly set him free. The instant Wyatt choked out the words he'd dreamed of ever since learning time travel was real and miraculously possible, "Jessica's alive," he could feel her slipping away, even as she hastily swallowed a tiny shocked gasp.

In the span of a few halting, pain-filled sentences, the woman who-by his own admission-had saved him, began to distance herself from him, but not until she quietly reassured an obviously conflicted Wyatt that this was everything he wanted and had been hoping for, that it was a good thing because Jessica was his wife and he loved her–even trying to convince him that she was thrilled for them. Heartsick at the little catch in her voice Lucy was unable to hide, he offered a token protest, "Yeah, but you and me..." before falling miserably silent, powerless to find the right words, as if that was even possible. Swallowing thickly, he managed, "I'm sorry," and inevitably, he felt so much worse when she whispered, "Don't be," before abruptly ending the call.

Too many things had happened in such a short time, and it was all just so out of control and confusing right now. He loved his wife, he really did, pathetically grateful she was alive and giving him just 'one more chance,' (albeit with some reservations), to be a better husband. "But what about Lucy?" an insidious little voice in his head questioned, and God help him, Wyatt was achingly aware that he loved her, too (although how the hell a man could love two different women at the same time without losing his mind, he had no clue).

Just days ago, during (and for a handful of hours after) their time in 1941 Hollywood, he'd been reasonably sure Lucy felt the same way, but now, judging by the way she'd been studiously avoiding him these last couple of days, a suddenly insecure Wyatt couldn't be certain. All the emotions he had seen in her dark eyes and felt in her gentle, loving touches were just gone, and while his head understood that Lucy was probably trying to protect herself from further pain, his heart was breaking at the way she was painstakingly removing herself from his life. Dammit, she couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eyes anymore, not since the team's return from 1692.

All of that was why, despite his wife standing mere feet away, the second the lifeboat roared into the bunker, Wyatt had instinctively grabbed the metal steps, pushed them in place and eagerly moved forward. Nearly overcome with relief when he saw Lucy emerge first from the open hatch, Wyatt was taken aback at the blank mask that rapidly dropped over her face when she caught sight of him, smothering the fleeting glimpse of happiness he saw shining from her eyes.

Already halfway up, he'd come to an abrupt stop when Flynn exited next and standing (too) closely beside Lucy, almost protectively took her arm and solicitously helped her down the steps once a stunned Wyatt reluctantly backed away (after stealing a guilty glance at Jess). That she not only allowed Flynn to do so, but carefully avoided his eyes nearly brought Wyatt to his knees. The hell? To be fair, Lucy had never despised Flynn the way he and Rufus did, and at times even seemed to feel sorry for the bastard, but this? Willingly letting him touch her? Turning to him for what, some kind of comfort? On top of insisting that Flynn take his place on the mission? That did not sit well with Wyatt at all. But as his Grandpa had been so fond of saying, he'd made his bed and now he had to lie in it.

It was hours afterwards before he even laid eyes on Lucy. Despite Flynn hovering over her, Wyatt instinctively started to follow them to the makeshift infirmary the team had set up their first week in the bunker. Lucy was hurt–she needed him–end of story. At least until he heard his wife call out, "Wyatt?" in a tentative voice. Oh, God. Just at the sight of an injured Lucy, he completely forgot about Jess standing there, probably confused as hell about what was going on. Standing still for a moment, watching while Jiya led Lucy away, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before plastering a reassuring smile on his face and turning around.

Feeling distinctly, uncomfortably out of the loop while Rufus and Flynn were in with Agent Christopher going over the mission debriefing, Wyatt spent the rest of the afternoon showing Jessica around and working out new sleeping arrangements, all the while fighting a fierce urge to drop by the infirmary and check on Lucy. After the rooms were sorted out (Rufus and Jiya finally together, he and Jess sharing, and Lucy, Connor, and Flynn by themselves), Wyatt went ahead and started supper.

Later, while everyone but Christopher was sitting around the table, eating and making stilted conversation with their new roommate, Wyatt prepared a plate of food and grabbed a cold bottle of water and ducking his wife's curious glance, headed for the infirmary. Lucy was asleep, curled on her good side facing him when he walked in. Setting the food and water on the table beside the cot, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her. Well aware that anyone could come in at any time, Wyatt was helpless to keep from reaching for her and tenderly smoothing a thick lock of dark hair from her cheek. She was so still and pale. How the hell had she gotten knifed? Wyatt's anger grew apace with his guilt. He should have been there–it was his duty, his job, to protect Lucy and Rufus. But yet, what else could he have done once he was aware of Jess being alive?

Brooding and feeling nearly torn in two, Wyatt started at the hand on his shoulder. He relaxed when Rufus crouched down beside him, and keeping his eyes on Lucy, quietly told Wyatt how brave she'd been, and how frighteningly close to being hanged for a witch Lucy had come before falling silent. "Wyatt? I know you don't want to hear this, and I can't believe I'm actually saying it, but Flynn...he saved our lives back there." At the stubborn frown Wyatt directed at him, Rufus shrugged and shook his head. "Look, I don't trust the guy any more than you do, but if he hadn't found a weapon, a musket, we would have lost Lucy. Those Puritans were freaking crazy, man, unbelievably obsessed with 'finding' and killing these women, and it's awful to admit, but I couldn't have saved her, and a very small part of me will always be grateful to that whack job for keeping her alive."

Underneath his anger, Wyatt grudgingly recognized the truth behind his friend's words. Although he despised being 'beholding' to Flynn for anything ever, Rufus was right. Not even the reappearance of his much-loved wife would have prevented Wyatt from eating his weapon if Lucy had died during their mission. He shivered at the implications of the realization. Rufus patted his shoulder and offered to sit with her a while, gravely reminding Wyatt that he should probably get back to his wife. In spite of the other man's presence, without thinking twice, Wyatt leaned over and dropped a kiss on Lucy's soft cheek before leaving.

Seemingly oblivious to the strained atmosphere between Wyatt and the other members of the team, Jess had settled in surprisingly well, even hesitantly begun to open up to him, although at least one of her questions had undeniably (unknowingly, of course) hit a nerve...

"So your secret mission the last two months, the reason I didn't hear from you, was because time travel is actually a real thing?"

"How many times have you traveled to the past?"

"Have you met any famous people?"

"Why are you and the others going back in time in the first place?

"How long have Lucy and Garcia been together?"

Wyatt came embarrassingly close to spitting coffee all over himself at her innocent question. How the hell had Jess come to that conclusion? It was impossible. She must be mistaken. Ignoring his wife's quizzical expression, his eyes involuntarily darted over to where Lucy sat quietly talking with Jiya (and Flynn, he noticed, with no little annoyance). Her left arm was cradled against her body in a rough sling after it had taken a dozen stitches to close the knife wound she'd suffered during the now famous "Salem Witches Revolt of 1692," and because Wyatt knew her so well, he could tell by her wan complexion and the worrisome frown that had settled between her dark brows that she was in pain. (Dammit, she should be resting, not sitting out here talking to that bastard Flynn.)

Absently noting Jiya's seeming lack of hostility toward the man, Wyatt wondered if Rufus had told her as well how Flynn saved their lives by eventually getting his hands on a musket, a fact that relieved and irritated him in equal measure. He didn't particularly enjoy the looming feeling that as a direct result of his impulsive, disruptive actions, Wyatt may very well have not only forfeited his spot on the team, but, more disturbingly, in his friends' lives. As angry with him as Agent Christopher still was about his wife's presence here, when coupled with Garcia Flynn's alleged heroism, he wondered uneasily if the Logans would soon be turned loose.

In spite of his sincere intention to save his marriage, just the thought of never seeing Lucy again had the power to wreck Wyatt. Not to mention under no circumstances would he trust that psycho Flynn to keep her safe. That was his job...

"Wyatt? You okay? Where'd you go?" Jess asked, her brow creased in concern. Even as Wyatt tried to smile and assure her he was fine, it was such a blatant falsehood the word 'liar' might as well be stamped in bright red ink on his forehead. This was ridiculous. He needed to settle down, because his wife was no idiot, and if he couldn't get his shit together, it wouldn't be long before she put two and two together and came up with at least a suspicion that he and Lucy were sleeping together. (Had slept together, as in the past-Jesus, Logan, get a grip.) And that didn't even take into account the troubling possibility of one of his roommates accidentally letting something slip. Lost in their happiness, he and Lucy had hardly been discreet during the hours after returning from 1941.

Abruptly getting to his feet, Wyatt put their coffee mugs in the sink, stopping in his tracks at the sound of his wedding ring clinking against one of the mugs. Though he'd been surprised and touched when Jess had presented it to him her first night in the bunker, shyly confessing that she had been keeping it safe, the thick metal band still felt so strange on his hand after years without it.

His mind was unwillingly drawn back to supper last night when the same thing happened as Wyatt grabbed for a plate while clearing the dishes. To his dismay, the unfamiliar sound seemed to echo loudly around the open kitchen area, drawing everyone's attention to his left hand. Predictably, the group's reactions were mixed, ranging from indifference (Connor) and sadness (Rufus and Jiya), to the ugly permanent sneer that Flynn wore. Strangely, when he dared sneak a quick glance at her, there had been no visible response from Lucy at all, who hastily averted her eyes and irrationally, that bothered Wyatt most of all.

From the moment she returned from 1692, Lucy had kept her distance as much as possible, and while his head understood, his stupid, selfish heart physically ached from missing her. But hey, why wouldn't she keep away from him? He just couldn't seem to stop hurting her, right from the very second the text message from Jess had popped up on his phone and he literally ran from Lucy, both physically and emotionally. Wyatt's guilt was starting to consume him, and he wasn't sure how much more he could endure. Maybe it would be better for Lucy, everyone really, if he and Jess just disappeared. But he discarded the idea as quickly as it came. No way would he abandon another team. Lucy and Rufus were counting on him, and he wasn't leaving them to fight Rittenhouse on their own, Garcia Flynn be damned. He would never trust that psycho murderer.

Take yesterday, for instance. Hungry after a quick shower following a punishing workout, Wyatt headed for the kitchen area and came to an abrupt halt, taken aback at the sight of Lucy and Jess sitting together at the table, apparently getting to know each other. As he uneasily debated his next move, Wyatt was less than thrilled to hear Flynn's soft jeer behind him.

"You seem a little uncertain, maybe even ill at ease, Logan, to see your women together...what's the matter? Afraid of something? Perhaps you're concerned they're comparing notes?"

Struggling to rein in his temper, Wyatt gritted out, "Fuck you, Flynn," but to his shame, he couldn't seem to infuse his growled warning with any real menace. While he knew such a thing was highly unlikely (Lucy would never betray him), with the way everything had unfortunately played out so far, it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.

Flynn's quiet chuckle inflamed Wyatt. "No thanks, soldier," he sneered, "You're not my type, but don't worry, you probably still have more than one option available, even if your little historian is trying desperately not to show it."

Wyatt stiffened in rage at the older man's sleazy insinuation, and without turning around, he hissed over his shoulder, "It would give me the greatest pleasure to put you down, Flynn. You do remember I have a gun, and you don't?" And cringed when Flynn merely laughed heartily, instantly drawing Lucy and Jessica's attention to him. Great.

Damn Garcia Flynn to hell and back for his obvious glee in keeping things stirred up. It wasn't Wyatt's imagination (it couldn't be) that the sonofabitch seemed to be deliberately spending as much time with Lucy as possible. God only knew what he was telling her, but considering their mutual hatred of each other, Wyatt would bet it wasn't very flattering to him. And it definitely wasn't fair to a clearly vulnerable Lucy. After everything she'd been through in the past 18 months, which to his everlasting regret, now included being dumped by him, Flynn using her to torment Wyatt seemed unusually cruel, even being the conscienceless asshole that he was.

Jess beamed at him as purposely ignoring Flynn, he hesitantly approached the two women and less than enthusiastically perched on the chair between them. When Lucy almost immediately started to get up, his wife reached across the table and implored, "Oh, please don't leave, Lucy, I have so many questions," and a quick glance at Lucy revealed the same 'deer in the headlights' (just short of panic) expression on her face that Wyatt imagined he wore as well.

As Lucy gingerly lowered herself back onto the chair, Jessica turned to him and admonished fondly, "Wy, you never told me Lucy was a history teacher. You know that was my favorite subject in school," nodding and smiling brightly at Lucy, who blushed slightly.

The chiding words fell from his lips before he realized, "Jess, honey, Lucy isn't just a teacher–she's a college professor at Stanford University," and as his wife's eyes widened in admiration, Wyatt sensed, rather than saw, Lucy's delicate wince at the casual endearment he bestowed on Jess, a remnant from early in their marriage. Too late, he remembered...

Flashback

Even Southern California could get chilly in early January, and the heat from the crackling fire burning steadily in the guest house fireplace offered he and Lucy a welcome warmth when they slipped inside the cozy room. Wyatt's eyes were immediately drawn to the luxurious bed that occupied more than half of the space, the thick covers turned down invitingly.

A feeling of calm settled over him as he eyed Lucy standing motionless gazing at the fire. This moment had been months in the making, likely inevitable from the second Wyatt had opened his eyes and beheld the pretty, agitated brunette that first time at Mason Industries. He had sincerely meant it beside the pool when he told Lucy she'd saved him. This woman had given Wyatt's life new meaning, new purpose after his clueless stumbling through the years since Jess had been taken away from him. Now, finally, his head accepted what his heart (and Rufus) had been trying to tell him for months–he was in love with Lucy Preston. She was crazy smart, beautiful, kind, funny, and best of all, Wyatt was pretty sure that in spite of all his numerous faults, she loved and wanted him.

Locking the door, Wyatt put his hand firmly on Lucy's arm and turned her to face him. At her hesitant, worried expression, a soft tenderness filled him. She was endearingly nervous and unsure, his Lucy, and after gazing searchingly into his eyes, met him halfway when he finally took possession of her lips. All bets were off after that, as she eagerly matched him kiss for kiss, and they began to shed their fancy clothes. At one point, Lucy had actually growled when one of his shirt buttons wouldn't cooperate, and an amused Wyatt had unthinkingly cautioned, "Easy there, sweetheart, you're gonna tear my shirt."

Her hands stilled on his shirt as she gazed up at him in wonder. "Did you just call me sweetheart?" Wyatt's face reddened as he shrugged in embarrassment, and then Lucy reached up and putting both hands around his neck, pulled his forehead to hers and whispered against his lips, "Don't stop. I like it." The endearment that seemed to come to him so naturally had slipped out several times over the next few hours, much to Lucy's obvious delight.

End Flashback

Now he would never call her that ever again, Wyatt thought bleakly. He resolutely turned from the sink and pulled Jessica to her feet. Enough was enough. He had to quit doing this, pining for Lucy all the while trying to relearn how to be Jess' husband. It wasn't fair to either woman, and while he didn't have the faintest idea what their collective futures held, Wyatt had made his decision. No going back now, regardless of how painful it was, he had to live with the choices he was making. When it was all said and done, the solution to his predicament was quite simple, really. All Wyatt had to do was stop loving Lucy, the sooner the better, even if it killed him...

A/N: This is me still working through my feelings about the direction the show is taking, and hanging on to my faith it will all work out in the end. It has to, right? Wyatt is truly in an impossible situation right now, no matter what choices he makes, and I hope that comes across in this story. Thanks as always for all the wonderful support and encouragement from all of you, it's much appreciated :))