It had been a really fucked up three days for Wyatt Logan. Little did he know it was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

He sat with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He didn't need a glass. Why take a glass when it was easier to chug it like water? His hand shook as he brought the bottle to his lips, his breath came out as a ragged hiss after his six consecutive swallows. He needed to get drunk. He needed to forget the mess his life was at that moment.

Three days ago he had made love to Lucy between Hedy Lemar's silk sheets. He could still see her pale skin glowing in the firelight as he hovered over her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her body welcoming his thrusts with such ease, as if she had been made for him alone. He remembered the feel of her breasts against his chest as he gradually gave her the weight of his body, the kiss he had given her that had been so much more carnal than the languid slow strokes he used to pleasure her. He remembered the way she had trembled against him, the way she had clung to him when it had all become too much and the peaceful oblivion for him when he followed her. He had taken her three times that night and once more the next morning after Rufus had come looking for them and each time was like it's own little miracle. He had forgotten what it was like to be that happy, to just bask in the glow of someone else for no other reason than you could.

Not even taking that long drive to Oakland to get Garcia Flynn out of jail had been able to erase that feeling of contentment. Especially when on the way back, Lucy had slid across that seat just to put her head on his shoulder and dream. He did a little dreaming of his own on that moonlit drive back to the lifeboat. He dreamed of their future; of weddings and children. A life full of laughter and loving Professor Lucy Preston-Logan for the rest of his life. It made him smile the way she curled herself into him when he had woken her in the predawn light. That sleepy smile she gave him when he buckled her in made his heart skip a beat. There was nothing that could have taken that feeling of contentment away from him. Re-entry nausea be damned.

It had been full dark by the time they made it back to the bunker. Jiya had apparently been asleep at the computers, startled awake by all the noise. Rufus had sent him a sly wink as Lucy left the lifeboat before them and muttered, Take our room tonight, you little lovebird. Wyatt had just shaken his head at Rufus' laugh and tried not to smile. He remembered his own words, Nah, he'll be cool. Yeah, Rufus was the most uncool dude you could have ever met, but he had just done him a considerable solid. He briefly wondered if they could make this arrangement permanent without raising too many eyebrows. It wasn't like he was exactly subtle when it came to Lucy. Trying to break through a door with a grinder to find someone kinda gives you a reputation.

He had slipped an arm around her waist as they walked the corridor to his room, placed a kiss on her head when she leaned into him. She was so tired she didn't even change her clothes, only kicked off her shoes and dove under his sheets. When he had jokingly asked how she knew which bed was his, she didn't even open her eyes to respond. Apparently when you have your shoes dress right dress from largest to smallest under your bed, you have a tell. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already asleep. He watched her as he shed his 1940's clothes and he didn't think he would ever get tired of looking at her. He didn't bother with pajamas because if he had his way, they definitely wouldn't be needed by morning. And as he fell asleep wrapped around her body, his face in her hair, he didn't think his life could get any better.

Clothes had definitely not been needed the next morning. Or in the shower. Or again in his room before she said they needed to make an appearance before Agent Christopher got back. Board games were all well and good, but the sight of her in his clothes had him plotting to find all of hers and have them mysteriously disappear. Not even the irritation of Flynn walking into the bunker could break the happy hold she had on his heart.

There was nowhere to go but down, right?

Yep.

Which had led him to exactly where he was at the moment. His not so dead wife was asleep in his room, while the woman he loved was asleep in hers. Rufus had temporarily moved in with Mason to give him space to figure out what he wanted. Like it was easy. If he knew what he wanted, he wouldn't be sitting here trying to get shitfaced on the couch in this stupid bunker. He remembered the desperation in his voice when he asked Jessica to give him one last chance. He had wanted to prove that he wasn't that guy that she had been married to, that he wasn't that dick that cheated on her while they were married. Did it really count as cheating if he didn't know she was alive?

But maybe he wasn't all that different from the man Jessica knew. Being married again didn't stop him from sneaking into Lucy's room before he had to jump to 1934 to check on her. It didn't stop him from pressing a kiss that she wouldn't remember to her hot, cracked lips. It didn't stop him from whispering I love you into her ear, even though she wouldn't hear it. It didn't stop him from pulling Jiya to the side and demanding that she take care of Lucy while he was gone.

He didn't even wake Jessica to tell her he was leaving.

Then it all went to hell and they had to bring JFK to the bunker, then the kid was gone and he was stuck in his own private hell with Lucy and Jessica. He briefly wondered what he had done in his life to deserve this as they drove to the closest gas station to see if they could find the missing president-to-be. Once there, Lucy had gone over her plan and he asked without thinking, Who am I? They always had a story. He was always her husband, Fiance, Lover. You're my friend. We can be friends right? She might as well have punched him in the face. They could never just be friends. He knew he was looking at her a little too long with his wife right next to him, but he couldn't make himself look away.

Then they were at the hospital and Emma had a knife to Lucy's throat. He couldn't contain the panic that crawled over his skin. He couldn't get a clear shot. That wasn't exactly true, he had the shot but he couldn't risk Lucy. The fear in her eyes gnawed at his heart. The sound of Emma's laughing voice boiled his blood. Maybe her life doesn't matter anymore now that you have your wife back. He couldn't help the shudder of pure hatred that went through him. You fucking bitch. Emma's smile was pure evil. What's the matter, Logan? You don't like my gift? That hurts. I spent a lot of time figuring out when to give it to you. When it would mean the most to you. He felt his hand tighten on the grip of his weapon as he watched Emma tighten her grip on Lucy, shove the knife a little deeper into her tender skin. This feels like old times, right Princess? Did you tell him about all the good times we had for those six weeks?

He felt his heart stop. His eyes moved over to Lucy's and he could already see the tears falling down her face. He remembered all the times he had asked her and all the times she shut him down. To see the smug look on Emma's face was enough to make his stomach twist into knots. He couldn't help but wonder, but now he wasn't quite sure if he really wanted to know. You didn't tell him? Emma hissed in Lucy's ear loud enough for him to hear it. You should have heard the way she screamed when we showed her the paper. Poor thing cried for hours, didn't you Princess? Cried herself to sleep every night. He could hear Lucy's tearful whispers to him, Do it! Do it! A litany in his head that played over and over, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk her.

He gasped as Lucy did when Emma dug the knife a little bit further into her neck until a small red drop appeared at the tip and Wyatt was pretty sure he was losing his goddamn mind as the first tear trailed down his cheek. The next time I see you, I swear to God I'm going to kill you. His voice was rough and full of promise. Emma's laugh sent shivers down his spine, You could kill me now if you weren't so afraid you'd hurt her. Sometimes being in love is a pain in the ass. Before he could respond Emma pushed Lucy into his arms and disappeared down the hall.

He had Lucy in his arms in an instant, cradling her against his body as they sunk down on the floor together, his weapon forgotten on the floor between their knees. He couldn't stop touching her, anywhere he could reach her. Her face, her neck, her hair, her back. She was sobbing against him, the loud gasping sobs he had only heard after 1918. He pressed his forehead against hers, clumsily tried to wipe away the tears that still streaked down her face in rivers of sorrow. It's okay, Lucy. You're okay. I'm right here. It's okay. She shook her head against his and pulled away far enough to look him in the eyes. She couldn't stop crying and he didn't know how to help. All he could do was take care of her.

He moved her head to the side so he could examine the cut Emma had given her. It wasn't deep, but was still sluggishly oozing blood. He licked the pad of his thumb and brushed away the worst of it. The feel of her pulse beneath his touch was a haunting reminder of how close Emma had come to her artery. How close he came to losing her. He could feel the rumble of her voice against his hand, the gasping breaths she took as she spoke. They had the recordings Rufus made. They kept playing you saying my name over and over. At first I thought I was going crazy, then I thought you were actually there. I kept screaming for you until I realized they were playing a game with me. They were trying to break me… so I figured out what I was fighting for. I was fighting for you.

He couldn't have stopped his tears from coming then if he tried. The thought of her being trapped with those monsters, with a mother who was supposed to love her. With a mother who was supposed to protect her. All on her own with his voice making her crazy. Lucy… her name had come out in an agonizing whisper. It was all starting to make sense now, the thought as he buried his face in her hair. The way she had looked at him like he was a ghost in 1918, the way she would stiffen at the sound of his voice saying her name for weeks after they had rescued her. I'm so sorry. He couldn't stop saying it, crying it into her hair while she sobbed into his neck. I'm so sorry...

Go… she told him, go… he didn't understand until he pulled away to look at her face. It had only been about a minute since Emma had left. A minute of his heart being ripped out of his chest. He wiped at his face as he studied her eyes. Are you sure? Are you alright? She nodded again and he brushed a kiss against her forehead before he was out the door. It wasn't until he was getting arrested that he realized Jessica had been in the room and had seen everything.

Well Fuck. Let's have an emotionally intimate moment with the woman you love in front of your not-so-dead wife, who you begged to take you back…idiot.

One problem at a time, right?

He wasn't quite sure what had gone on between Jessica and Lucy after he had been taken away, paperclip in hand. When he drove up he could see the tension in Lucy's back which was never a good sign. He didn't have to look in his wife's eyes to know that whatever was said had her upset. Not that he could blame her. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he saw Lucy in the situation they were just in with someone else. He probably would have killed the guy with his bare hands.

As for the mission? He would have called it an unquestionable success if it hadn't been for Lucy's monosyllabic answers to his questions and his wife's stony silence. How on Earth they were both pissed at him he didn't know, but he wasn't a stupid man. He kept his mouth shut unless he had something important to say. It had only been marginally better after they got JFK back to the car. The teeager had them all chuckling at various intervals, but even that wasn't enough to erase the tension completely.

The moment Wyatt parked the car in front of the silo, Jessica was out and gone. He watched her as she disappeared into the tin can then turned around to see Lucy watching him. What? She gave him look that probably should have filleted the skin off his ass and turned to tell John to go into the bunker. They walked slowly behind him and he waited until John disappeared into the bunker before stopping Lucy. Listen, I get why she's pissed at me, but why are you? She didn't even blink. You didn't shoot Emma. She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and and pulled her toward him. Are you serious? That's why you're pissed at me? If I would have taken that shot, I could have killed you. So Emma stays alive because I'm not willing to take that risk. She yanked her arm from his, grimaced as she did so. Maybe if you had, I wouldn't have had to have the most awkward conversation of my life with your wife. He watched her walk into the silo and thought, Well fuck. He guessed it was time for his own awkward conversation with his wife.

He walked into the room he shared with his wife to the sight of her throwing her possessions into the small bag she had brought with her. Why the did you even ask me to stay? Why the hell didn't you just sign the divorce papers? Why bring me here into all of this? Why Wyatt? This was the wife he remembered. This was the Jessica that his grief had forgot. The girl who flew off the handle, sometimes for good reason, who would scream and throw things and make him lose his ever loving mind. He forgot how much he actually almost missed it until she was throwing obscenities his way. You know why, Jess. I haven't seen your face in six years. Do you think any of this is easy for me? His hands clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched shut. God, why couldn't she just understand?

She scoffed at him, zipping up her bag. Yeah, I can see how hard my death has been for you. It's so touching to see how much you missed me. And there was the reaction that she always got out of him. Anger, resentment. You don't get to do that. You were gone. I grieved for you for almost six years, Jessica. He might have been unfaithful to you, but I never was. I was a goddamn monk until three days ago! Stop acting like this is easy for me! None of this is easy for me! I was finally able to move on from you. From my own guilt. I was happy and then… He couldn't finish. Why did they always do this? They always went for the barbs and insults instead of just actually trying to get to understand what the other person was saying. And then what? I came back? Well I'm sorry for being alive. I'm sorry for ruining whatever happy plans you and Lucy were making.

She went to move past him, but he caught her in his arms and pulled her against him. Her body was as stiff as a board with anger and pain. No, Jess. Don't ever be sorry for being alive. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about all this, but you being alive? That's a miracle, Jess. Things may be fucked up for me right now, but I will never regret you being alive. If you don't believe anything else I say, please believe that. He felt her slowly soften against him and rest her head on his chest. Lucy said I was always there... But I wasn't always there was I? He rested his chin on the top her of head and ran his hands down her back. No. Not always. I had to let you go for my sake. I had to stop living in the past. It nearly cost me everything. She backed away from him then, opening her bag and pulled out that familiar manilla envelope. Don't you think it's time we stopped pretending?

So now he sat, Jack back in 1934 and his divorce papers on the table in front of him, a pen lying next to them. He took another gulp of whiskey as he looked at Jessica's familiar loopy signature at the bottom. Was this what he wanted?

For so long he wanted Jessica back. He wanted to make right all the wrongs. He wanted the chance to be a better person for her and now she was here. Six months ago this would have been the best thing to have ever happen to him. He would have been able to push aside his burgeoning feelings for Lucy and grab this second chance with both hands. He didn't think that was possible now. He and Lucy had been through too much together. They meant too much to each other.

As for Lucy…

He drank deep again and lazily spun the pen on the desk with one finger.

She was pushing him away. Pushing him towards Jessica. He didn't blame her. If the roles had been reversed and her husband had come back from the dead he would have done the same thing. Especially if she had spent the first year of him knowing her doing everything possible to get him back. It wouldn't matter what he felt. He would have loved her enough to let her go. Maybe. He would like to think so, but he wasn't selfless like Lucy. He was a selfish bastard, hence his current position on the couch. And the worst part about all of it? He hurt her. He hurt her and it was killing him. When he literally ran into her on his way for a shower, he had no words. Her eyes were filled with so much pain, so much hurt. He watched her walk away and felt his heart go with her.

So that was the choice he had to make. Did he go with his head, which told him that Jessica was his wife and he had waited years for this. Or did he go with his heart, which told him that he couldn't live without Lucy. That he needed her. That he needed her forever. Always.

Maybe her life doesn't matter anymore now that you have your wife back.

You saved my life, you know.

I think you… we… anyone has to be open to the possibilities.

You want to know how to keep doing this? Figure out what you're fighting for and you'll be okay.

I've lost everything.

You haven't lost me.

She's your wife and you love her.

I trust you. You're the one that I trust.

Yeah, well whatever happens, it'll be worth it to have Jessica back.

I am meant to protect the both of you. I see that now.

Maybe I do need to be open to the possibilities.

The possibilities of what?

I don't know. I just know I'm not really ready to say goodbye yet.

You say what's in here. Quit pretending!

You're in love with Lucy! Just admit it!

Was there a choice?

He loved Jessica, a part of him would always love Jessica, but he was in love with Lucy. He loved everything about her. Every part of her. He couldn't imagine his life without her. He had barely survived losing Jess. He would never survive losing Lucy. So he picked up the pen with a hand much steadier than he ever thought it could be in this kind of situation and signed his name where the cheerful little arrows told him to. He felt a small shiver of sadness, but nothing more. He slid the ring he hadn't worn in 4 years off his finger and laid it next to the pen. He would talk to Lucy tomorrow.

He needed to talk to Jessica.

But first he needed to get sober. He set up the coffee maker and listened to it hiss as he dumped the rest of the whiskey down the sink. The last thing he wanted was to remind her of the drunk she had spent the last six years with. Especially when he was going to talk about the end of their marriage. He was going to tell her everything. Even the parts that would hurt them both.