A/N: let's start with this: I was not going to write this story. I wanted to read it so I wasn't going to write it. But then I sat down and I thought about it and it wouldn't leave me alone. Somewhere along the way it became an epic, that was also not my intent. But the more I wrote of alternate season two the more fun I had. Hopefully you all enjoy this and it lives up to expectations.

Happy reading!

angellwings

Rewrite (This Story)

By angellwings

"I wish I could rewrite this story.
Change every word of every line,
Write any story but mine.
Someone tell me when,
Can I start again,
And rewrite this story?"

-Rewrite This Story, SMASH

"We've got nowhere to go but down."

His head tilts and his smile somehow widens as he catches Lucy's gaze with his. "Don't jinx us, Professor."

"You don't believe in fate but you believe in a jinx?" Lucy asks him with a chuckle. "Are you serious?"

"You're gonna have to throw some salt over your shoulder or knock on wood or whatever else it is people do to ward off a jinx," Wyatt tells her as he steps into her space again. His hands drift to her hips, not for the first time since this conversation started, and pull her toward him. "We're not taking any chances with this."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, Logan, but I'm fresh out of salt and we're surrounded by rusted metal so I don't think either of those things are an option. What else you got?" She asks him with a rascally grin.

"I don't know if it works for a jinx but I've heard kisses can make anything better," he offers with a smirk and a shrug. "I mean worth a shot, right?"

She laughs and trails her hands up his arms until they rest on the back of his neck. "That was a super cheesy line, Soldier, but also a very valid argument."

Just as they begin to lean in, they separate in a panic as a voice calls for Lucy. Wyatt mutters a curse under his breath and Lucy bites back a chuckle at his expense. She looks up to find Rufus marching toward them with a tablet in his hand. His pace slows considerably when he notices the ungrateful expression on Wyatt's face.

"Oh, sorry," Rufus says with a knowing grin. "Did I, um, interrupt something?"

Lucy answers with a no while Wyatt answers with a loud and pointed yes. She grins at him but rolls her eyes before turning back to Rufus.

"Nothing that can't wait," she clarifies. "What's up?"

"Hedy renewed the patent," Rufus tells her with a victorious smile as he reads off of the tablet in his hands. "She renewed it in 1955 so that when the Navy uses it in the 1962 blockade of Cuba Hedy and George still own it."

Lucy grins at him and shrugs. "Glad they got the credit."

"Yeah, and about 30 billion dollars to go with it."

Lucy's eyes nearly bulge out of her head as she snatches the tablet from Rufus. "30 billion!"

"She quit acting and started a tech company and, according to Wikipedia, Bill Gates ain't got nothing on Hedy Lamarr."

"Oh my god," Lucy mutters as she skims the Wikipedia page on the tablet in front of her. She nudges Wyatt's shoulder and tilts the tablet toward him. "She and George got married. That's...she was supposed to have a total of six marriages. It looks like she had about half of that number not including George. Renewing the patent did more than just give her credit and a new career."

"The timing finally worked out, huh?' Wyatt asks her with a knowing grin.

"I guess so," she replies as she beams at Wyatt and then hands the tablet back to Rufus. "You did a good thing by telling her, Rufus. Thank you."

He lifts one shoulder with a humble smile. "She was a remarkable woman. I couldn't let that go unrecognized. You know?"

Lucy nods at him and then gives his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "I know. I'm glad it all worked out for her. She deserved it."

"Anyway," Rufus says as he tucks the tablet under his arm. "I thought you'd want to know and now I'll leave you two to your, um, something. Whatever that may be. I'm not asking. Not prying. Just being cool. Totally cool." His voice implies that he is not, in fact, cool. It's frantic and giddy. He starts to back away but stops short and holds up a finger. "I did tell Jiya, though. Just...FYI."

"Seriously?" Wyatt asks him with a huff. "Rufus—"

"Hey, I told you I was going to tell her. I couldn't not tell her. We're both Team Lyatt."

"Team...what now?" Lucy questions with a furrowed brow.

"Lucy and Wyatt. You know, Lyatt. Like Brangelina or Bennifer or Mondler. It's your couple name. Jiya and I are Riya and you're Lyatt," Rufus explains.

"A couple name?" Wyatt asks him with a bored glance before motioning to himself and Lucy. "This literally just happened."

Rufus scoffs and shakes his head. "Yeah, cause I didn't catch the two of you practically making out in Wendell's trunk last week or anything. Just happened. Right. Who do you think I am?" He chuckles and smirks at Wyatt. "I got eyes, you sly dog."

Lucy presses her lips together to stifle a laugh before she responds. "Go find Jiya, Rufus."

"Oh, right, cause you two wanna...got it," he says with a grin and an awkward clearing of his throat. "I'll, uh, get better about knocking."

Wyatt smirks and shrugs. "Do or don't. You're the one that'll see things you probably don't want to see so it's up to you."

"Yeah, better. I'm gonna get better at it," Rufus says after a wide eyed beat. "Hedy's guest house was plenty for me. Thanks."

Lucy finally lets out a rolling laugh as Rufus turns and walks away. "What was that you said about him being cool?"

"I may have overestimated his ability to be cool," Wyatt tells her as he grabs her unbuttoned shirt and uses it to slowly reel her back in. "He'll figure it out."

"It'll be fine?" She asks him skeptically.

"It'll be fine," he repeats with a confident smile.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is sure," she says with a chuckle.

He slips his hand into hers and tugs her down the hall. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" She asks, even though she already knows.

"My room, where we're less likely to be interrupted," he answers.

"The room you share with Rufus? What are you going to do? Put a sock on the door?" She flashes him a cheeky smile as they continue down the hall.

He laughs and nods. "If I have to." They reach the room and Wyatt gives her a crooked grin as he grabs his bow tie from 1941 off the foot of his bed. He ties it around the door knob with a wink. "Not a sock, but it'll do."

She smiles brightly but shakes her head at him as he closes the door. "This is so juvenile."

"You know, you could stand to be juvenile every now and then, Preston," he says as he closes in on her and starts to back her up toward his cot.

They grin at each other as they walk. She only stops when the backs of her legs hit the frame of the cot. He continues forward until he's pressed flush against her. One arm snakes around her waist and the other lands on her neck. He brushes her hair off of her shoulders and then slides it up to dive into her messy waves. She feels his fingers kneading against her scalp and looks up at him. His eyes are roaming her whole face just as they did in Hollywood. There's an element of disbelief shining in his bright blue eyes, like he can't believe they're here.

"One last chance to back out," he says softly. "If there's any doubt about what you want or what this is then—"

She cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. She has no doubts. "I don't need a chance to back out, Wyatt." A second after the words leave her lips the doubts come. Did he suggest that because he has doubts? Did he want a chance to back out? She bites her bottom lip before she speaks up reluctantly. "Not unless...I mean unless you do?"

He shakes his head and then tilts his face toward hers. "No. I've got exactly what I want. Right here."

She feels her cheeks heat up and a smile stretch across her mouth at his words. She leans up into him and brushes her nose against his. "That's good to know."

He smiles and she tries to remember how many smiles she's seen since they woke up that morning. She lost count at some point but she knows he's smiled more in the last 24 hours than he has the entire time she's known him. His lips ghost over hers and when he starts to pull away her hands come up to frame his face. She gives him a subtle shake of her head and a smirk. No way is she letting him tease her like that. She pulls his mouth to hers and then releases his face to wrap her arms around his neck. Tongues taste and teeth nip and he snags her bottom lip between his as he pushes her back on to the cot. He leans over her and nudges her knees apart. She feels him settle against her as she wraps her legs around him.

His hands have dipped under her shirt and she whines into his mouth as his calloused hands run across her stomach and her back. They drift higher up her sides until his thumbs brush against the underside of her cotton bra.

The bunker is chilly, the cot squeaks loudly under them, and the sheets are scratchy but somehow being with him in the present, here and now, feels more poignant than anything that happened in 1941. This is real. This is happening.

She feels joyful and excited and those are two things she hasn't felt since before her extended stay with Rittenhouse. Despite the chaos that surrounds them, it feels like her life is headed in the right direction on an open road. The words 'nothing ahead but the open road' reverberate in her brain. It seemed far away when he first said it but here and now, with the low moan he releases into her mouth, anything seems possible. Especially with Wyatt.

Her stomach grumbling wakes him up. He's always been a light sleeper, especially when faced with the needs of another person, so it doesn't take much. Her face is tucked into his neck as she's sprawled out on top him. They lay naked chest to naked chest and it feels even better than the last time when he'd woken up spooning her. She has one arm wrapped around his neck while the other rests on his arm. Her legs are tangled in his with not a stitch of clothing between them. Not even her silky chemise from 1941. It lacks old Hollywood glamour but he doesn't give a damn. This feels normal, ordinary, and he fucking loves it.

His hand ambles up her spine and then lightly repeats an idle path between her shoulder blades. She hums against his neck as she starts to stir and he feels the featherlight kiss of her lips to his skin.

"What time is it?" She asks sleepily.

He blindly reaches for his watch on the makeshift bedside table and then holds it up over the both of them so he can read it. "Nearly six o'clock. Dinner time, which explains why there's a strange growling noise coming from your stomach, ma'am."

"What can I say, I've burned an abnormal amount of calories today."

He chuffs out a laugh and drops a kiss to her hair. "This is the only exercise you get. We had to make the most of it."

He feels more than sees her lift her head from his neck and then sucks in a breath as the hand that was on his arms moves to skim up and down his stomach. On her second cycle down her hand drifts lower beyond the scar on his lower abdomen, with clear intention. He can already feel the heat and the need pooling in his gut and quickly grabs her wrist before she finds her target.

"If we're going for another round then you're going to eat first," he says as his tone deepens and his lips find the shell of her ear.

She whines and he looks at her just in time to see her nose scrunch in disgust. "But that means I have to get out of bed and put on clothes and, for once, one of these cots is actually cozy. Besides, I'm not that hungry."

"You always say that," he says worriedly. "You've been saying that since we brought you to the bunker, but obviously your stomach doesn't agree with you."

She knows he's right. She barely eats and when she does it's nothing substantial. She's also not sleeping even though she pretends she does. She catches a catnap here and there, nothing more than an hour or two, but otherwise he knows she sits up all night. He worries but he doesn't want to push.

"Come on," he pleads. "It won't take long. At least eat a grilled cheese or something. I know you like those."

She sighs in resignation and nods. "Fine. But we get in and we get out and then we come right back here. I'm not done with you yet."

He smirks and then winks at her as he sits them both up. "Fine by me."

Only, they never make it back to his room. After they get dressed and they finish their grilled cheeses the bunker alarm sounds, indicating a jump.

Wyatt feels his carefree happiness from just a few minutes ago slipping away and being replaced by tension and fear. He tries to hide the renewed rigidity of his muscles by crossing his arms as he listens to Lucy and, frustratingly enough, Flynn brief them on the bloodiest day of the Witch Trials in Salem. He's seen The Crucible, he knows enough. His gaze is already drifting to Lucy in hyper vigilance. She's smart, stubborn, and opinionated. Seems like the kind of woman a paranoid Puritan society might accuse of being a witch. He hopes he's wrong.

He isn't. Abby Franklin is among the accused, a deviation from history according to Lucy, and it's up to them to save her. Only in the process of saving her, Carol Preston shows up and points a finger at her own daughter.

He should have seen it coming. He noticed the increased manpower in the tavern and thought it was odd. But he brushed it off. Now the three of them are surrounded. He can make his own exit but he can only get one member of his team out if he leaves. Lucy gives him a pointed look between himself and Rufus and then to the door. She wants him to grab Rufus and go. Leave her behind? Hell no. Does she know him at all? He's not leaving her. Not after six weeks of being without her and only one day of allowing himself to love her. He shakes his head and her eyes form a glare. She's not happy with him and he's sure he'll get an earful later, but right now he doesn't care.

Rufus checked out the prison earlier and said it would be hard to escape, but Rufus isn't a soldier. While chained with his back to Lucy's cell he looks for any weaknesses and keeps his ears trained for any sound of distress from Lucy. Chains be damned he'll find a way to get to her if she needs him. But, unfortunately, it turns out Rufus is right. There's no escape. There's a guard right outside the door but there's not much he can do to restrain him while he's chained up.

The door opens and Wyatt cranes his neck to see who enters. A glare instantly forms on his face. Carol Preston. The entire reason for them being here. He tries to hear what's being said. He only catches one thing. A request for Lucy to go to the Mothership with Carol.

He smirks as he hears her reply.

"I'd rather be hanged."

"You were always so stubborn."

Yes, she is and it may drive him crazy sometimes but more often than not he's grateful for her grit and determination and sense of honor. There's no one else in the world like Lucy Preston and she keeps proving herself to be more and more remarkable every day. He hears a desperate shuffling behind them and angles his head just in time to see Carol slip Lucy something long and silver before she runs out the door.

Once Carol is gone the guard comes in to tie them all up and prepare them for the gallows. Lucy subtly flashes the silver object at hm and he can see exactly what it is. A long, narrow, silver dagger. As soon as the cell door is opened, Wyatt charges at the guard. Even with his hands chained behind his back he can easily pin him to the outside of the cell.

He nods at Lucy and her wrist, knowing she's hiding the knife behind her back. She picks up his signal and holds the dagger to the guard's throat.

"Keys," she sneers. "Hand them over."

"You'll never get out of town," the guard warns them. "They know your faces. You'll be caught as soon as you step outside."

"Maybe," Lucy tells him with a glare. "But these women are not dying in disgrace. We're fighting our way out. Now, keys," she repeats. Wyatt assists by leaning more of his weight against the guard, who winces in pain. "I need to unlock the men."

The keys are handed over and Lucy unlocks Wyatt first. He subdues the guard and locks him in the cell and then peeks outside. It's true there are a lot of people out and about now, but if they stick to the backs of the buildings they can make it. All of them. By the time he comes up with a plan, Rufus and the other man are unlocked and ready to run.

They're almost home free when three men corner them. One with a scar on his face, the one Lucy said was in charge, and one man with a musket. Wyatt shoots the man with the musket first, thankful that no one thought to search him for a weapon when they arrested him. He instructs Rufus to grab the musket while fighting off the man with the scar.

He spots the first signs of danger out of the corner of his eye. He sees Lucy stand in between the judge and the women. She's standing as tall and firm as she can, but she doesn't see the knife peeking out of the man's sleeve. Wyatt tosses the man with the scar aside. Rufus has a musket and if he has to he can defend himself. Lucy only has a tiny dagger and no idea what's coming.

The knife comes up before he can reach her and she makes a valiant effort to block it. It almost works. She deflects what would have been a chest wound, but receives a slice to her arm for the effort. Wyatt's shot is a split second too late to save her any injury. The man stumbles to the ground, eyes cold and dead, as Lucy turns around to face Abby Franklin.

Her hand is on her arm, holding the wound. He can see blood seeping between her fingers as he approaches her. He reaches for her but she steps away just long enough to give Abby rushed instructions. Go to New Hampshire, come back to Boston in a year. Avoid Salem. Abby nods and runs, leading all the accused out of town.

It's only then that she lets Wyatt touch her. His hands run over her face, her other arm, her sides. He hadn't stopped a knife wound. How is he to know there aren't any other injuries?

"Wyatt," she says softly. He doesn't meet her eyes right away. He can't. So, she repeats it more firmly. "Wyatt."

She presses her forehead to his and keeps her brown eyes trained on his blue ones. "Not your fault. Okay? Do you hear me?"

He says nothing in reply but tears off a bit of fabric from his shirt and ties it around her arm. The pressure just firm enough to stop any excessive bleeding. A moment later he hears a gunshot and turns to find Rufus standing above the man with the scar on his face. Looking lost and terrified. The look on his friend's face adds to the guilt Lucy is afraid he's feeling. She knows him too well.

"I hate this mission," he grinds out as he helps Lucy to her feet and leads her over to Rufus. "Abby's safe?" He asks her.

Lucy nods with a wince and closes her eyes. "Yeah. Should be."

"Then let's get the hell out of here."

"Fine by me."

It's a repeat of his words from earlier but where his words had been playful hers are grim. Right now, he's focused on getting his friends home safely but he knows as soon as they land in the bunker Lucy's emotional state will be next. She's suffered a physical and emotional blow this trip. She is not okay, even if she will eventually try to tell him she is.

They make it to the Lifeboat and Lucy immediately collapses into her seat. She's holding her arm still while slowly trying to edge her arm under the seat belt. She's gritting her teeth and trying to do it herself, but the soft cry that slips from her lips brings his full attention to her.

"Let me," he tells her as he leans across the distance and fastens her seatbelt, like he's done countless times before.

The wound itself doesn't look too bad. It's deeper than he would like, but shallow enough to be stitched and bandaged. That isn't his biggest concern. He is no medical professional but he would guess that a knife wound from a knife from several hundred years ago would have a few germs their modern century bodies never encountered. Which means there is an increased risk of infection.

"You okay?" He asks her quietly.

"M'fine," she grunts. "Thanks."

Is it his imagination or is her skin already feeling feverish?

He leans back into his own seat and buckles himself.

"You good, Rufus?" He asks when his friend is hesitating over the controls.

"No," he replies honestly. "But I can get us home."

So they all return home, broken and bruised, questioning whether or not their victory is actually a victory. Wyatt can't help but feel like it isn't.

He helps Lucy out of the Lifeboat and leads her to her room while Denise makes a frantic call to an emergency medic. He removes the soiled cloth that he wrapped around her arm and helps her change. She moves slowly as she changes and grimaces often. He wasn't wrong earlier, her skin is already feverish. She's in a pair of sweatpants and cropped white t-shirt when she finally sits down on her cot. She looks exhausted, emotionally and physically. She's avoided his eyes since stepping off the Lifeboat, but the minute she's changed and seated her hollow eyes meet his.

"You know that conversation we had about whether or not my mother would have let Emma kill me?"

Hard to forget, he thinks. Some of the worst heartbreak he's ever felt is hers. He simply nods in reply and places a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles.

"I think we have the answer to that question," she says as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth and lets the rest of her face crumple in pain.

He uses his hand on her back to pull her to him as she starts to cry. His hands slides down and lands on her hip, pulling her close without jostling her arm. He presses a series of kisses to her the top of her head, her forehead, her temple, and whispers comforting assurances in between them. He thought he hated Carol Preston before, but what he felt before was nothing compared to what he feels now. Pure unadulterated hatred.

The medic arrives to look at Lucy and he tries to move off the cot, but her hand strikes out and grabs his wrist. "Don't leave. Stay. Please."

"Of course," he replies as he immediately sinks back down next to her.

She holds his hand tightly as her wound is cleaned, stitched, and wrapped. When the medic is done he places a bottle of oral antibiotics in Wyatt's hand. "I assume you know what needs to happen with those, soldier?"

Wyatt nods. "I'm familiar."

"This is going to to get worse before it gets better," the medic says with a stern frown. "We're talking a high temperature. A near delirious—"

Lucy's hand tightens around his and her eyes widen in panic so Wyatt has to interrupt. She doesn't need to know all of this. "Yeah, we got it, Doc."

The medic leaves and Lucy leans into him completely.

"I am so tired," she tells him with a thick swallow. "And my arm hurts." He shifts her until her head is in his lap so he can stroke his hands through her hair, massaging her scalp.

"Go to sleep, Luce," Wyatt pleads softly. He doesn't stop to think about the nickname that just naturally fell from his lips. He's never called her that before. "It's okay."

She's drifting off, slowly but surely, when Rufus and Jiya step into the room hesitantly. There's an awkward tension between them and if he didn't have a dozing, slightly fevered Lucy Preston in his lap he would ask them about it. But he does so he doesn't. Rufus drops Wyatt's army duffle onto Jiya's bed and then Jiya begins quietly packing her own tote.

"You and I are switching rooms until she's recovered," Jiya tells him. "Christopher just told us the medic's assessment and there's no point in you staying in a separate room from her after that."

"Jiya, you don't have to—"

"She does. We both know she does. You'd be here all the time anyway, Wyatt," Rufus tells him with a knowing smirk. "As if you're going to let anyone else look after her."

When he has a point, he has a point. No use arguing it. "Thanks."

"No big deal," Jiya replies with a shrug. "Just take good care of her."

"I plan to," Wyatt promises.

A few minutes later, Jiya and Rufus are gone. Wyatt gingerly places a pillow under Lucy's head so he can get away to shower and change. After that's done he grabs supplies from the first aid kit to make sure he can change Lucy's bandage in the morning. Her fever wasn't too bad so far, but eventually it would sky rocket. It would sky rocket to the point of delirium. He is already preparing himself for the image of a weakened and miserable Lucy Preston. He never wants to see her in pain and that's exactly what's going to happen by this time tomorrow.

Over night, there's no immediate change. In fact, her mood seems to improve in the morning. He's already up when she wakes, having had a work out and a shower. She smiles serenely at him. The only signs she's in any sort of pain is the hand that rests on her forehead and the grimace as she tries to sit up.

He sits on the edge of her cot and helps her rise and then rests his arms on either side of her legs as he leans over her with a concerned gaze.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Cold and yet disgustingly sweaty," she says with a chuckle. "And also, you know, like I was stabbed."

"Speaking of that," he says as he eyes the supplies he left on her bedside table. "We need to redress your wound."

She glances down at the bandage and screws her face up in a disgusted expression. He can't blame her. There is blood spread across it and a less than appetizing shade of yellow edging around the blood. It also looks to be matted to her skin. Her eyes find his again with a sigh.

"You realize the pad is stuck to my arm, right?"

"It definitely appears to be stuck, yes," he tells her as he stands and gets a fresh bandage.

"This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

He holds up his thumb and forefinger and tries to shrug it off for her. "A little, but anything that touches that arm right now is going to hurt."

"Well, then what do you say we skip it?" She asks hopefully. "I think this bandage is just fine."

He chuckles as he sits back down on the bed and gives her an apologetic glance. "Not an option, ma'am. You've already got some disgusting Colonial germs pumping through you and we're not making it worse."

"Fine," she says with a resigned sigh.

She bites her bottom lip while he changes the bandage. He tries to be as slow and gentle as possible. The skin surrounding the wound is a painful shade of purple. The skin around it must be extremely sensitive to any bit of pressure and he knows the muscles there must ache from it as well. He's been there before, many times. Once he's done he presses a kiss to her forehead and then sits back to lean his upper body across her thighs, supporting some of his weight with his arms.

Her hand, that's not attached to her injured arm, cards idly through his hair. He closes his eyes as her hand skims over his scalp and takes a deep breath. Maybe this will chase away the image of the knife slicing her arm. It's been replaying in his head all night.

"I should get you some breakfast," he says with his eyes still closed.

"That's okay," she answers quietly. He opens one eye to see her head pressed back into her pillow and her eyes closed like his. "I'm not hungry."

Not an entirely unexpected answer. Her standard answer most days. But this time there's a reason beyond emotional trauma. A fever decreases appetite.

"Lucy, food will help you fight off an infection. You need to eat. Even if it's just a cup of tea and a banana." This lecture is becoming familiar to them both.

He never would have guessed when all of this started that protecting Lucy would mean making sure she eats and sleeps. He doesn't mind. He would help her with anything. Take on any of her pain. He loves her. That's what you do when you love someone. His muscles tense as he realizes what he's just admitted to himself. A part of him knew Rufus was right back in France but he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. The people he loved were eventually lost and he never wants to lose her.

"Hey," she says quietly as she runs her fingers across his cheek. "You okay? You went really rigid just now. Where'd you go?"

He brings a hand up to capture her hand on his cheek and then brings her fingers to his lips. "Nowhere. I'm fine. So, breakfast?"

"If I have to then I guess a cup of tea and a banana sounds fine," she replies with a weak smile.

"Coming right up," he says as he squeezes her hand and stands from the bed.

As he passes her she grabs his hand and threads her fingers through his. "Thank you, Wyatt."

"Anytime," he promises as he releases her hand and leaves the room.

He's waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her fever to hit the scary levels the doctor predicted. Holding his breath has become his permanent state since they moved into the bunker. While waiting for the tea he finds the ibuprofen and when he arrives back at the room he has his hands full. Tea, a bottled water, a banana, and ibuprofen. Lucy reaches for the tea as soon as he's close enough to prevent him from spilling it. He sets the bottled water and ibuprofen aside, with the antibiotics the doctor gave him, but places the banana in her lap. He'll have her take those after she eats.

Once that's done her eyes drift closed again and she stifles a yawn. He sits down on the edge of the cot and places a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Sleep, Luce. You need it."

She nods and blinks slowly as a soft smile spreads across her face. "You called me that last night."

"What?" He asks.

"Luce. You called me Luce. I liked it. It's much better than ma'am," she says with a teasing grin.

He laughs quietly and shakes his head at her. "I hate to tell you this but 'ma'am' isn't going away anytime soon."

"I figured," she says as she lets her eyes drift closed. "But I wouldn't mind if Luce became a thing. Just so you know. I like the way you say it."

"Then I guess I'll say it more often," he declares with a chuckle.

She nods and hums her agreement but is asleep before she can manage an actual reply. They're on untread ground for them now. The last time he dated anyone was Jess in high school and the last relationship she was in was with a guy she barely knew. He also feels like maybe they've done all of this a bit backwards. He fell in love with her and moved in with her before they actually started dating. Shouldn't that be the other way around?

Not that he ever had to worry about such things with Jessica. They were so young when they got together that it all happened on it's own. They married after high school and went from their parents' homes to their own. There was never any grey area with the two of them.

But things with Lucy felt like a grey muddled fog. First they were coworkers but not friends and then they were friends with an edge of something more and now they're something more with an unclear trajectory. They're trapped underground and fighting a war with her family that doesn't seem to have an end. How do you map a relationship around that? It's not like they can do the ordinary dating thing. Not unless he wants to make her a candlelit dinner of spaghetti-os and garlic bread after she's healed from her knife wound she received at the hands of Puritan witch hunter.

Jesus, their lives were weird.

Then there's the matter of whether or not either of them are actually ready for this step they've impulsively taken. Lucy's life is in total upheaval and he knows how that feels. He knows what that can do to a person. Add to that whatever was done to her when she was in Rittenhouse's hands and she is in for a rough road ahead. He can help her with it. He knows he can.

But will she let him? That is the real question.

As different as they are, they both tend to internalize their emotions. That is why he can read her as well as he can, most of the time. He is guilty of the same defense mechanism. He wants to be there for her but he knows her instinct will be to withdrawal. To hide the ugly emotions and put on a front. He's done that often enough himself.

It isn't healthy. He wants her to be better, more stable, than he was when his life fell apart. Lucy helped him put it all back together. He can and will do the same for her, even if it means challenging her and pressing a few buttons. He's going to have to find a balance between tender and relentless. It's not going to be easy.

The next time she wakes her fever has spiked. He was afraid that would be the case based on the way she was tossing and turning. She was clearly uncomfortable and he had to stop her from rolling over on to her arm several times. When she comes to her eyes barely open and he hears a pained whimper escape her lips. He presses a hand to her forehead and finds that her skin is on fire.

He leaves for just a moment to get a cool rag for her head and when he comes back he finds her asleep again and breathing heavily. She's writhing in the sheets. Her good arm is pulling at the shirt on her chest as if she's trying to rip it off. She's murmuring under her breath and he can't really make it out. But he catches the words "stuck", "help", and "water" and immediately knows.

The oil slick. The water. The band she never joined. The accident that won't leave her alone.

She's dripping with sweat now as he pushes back the hair that's stuck to her forehead and lays the cool rag across her skin. He pulls a chair close to the cot and sits, watching her with a furrowed brow. The next time she wakes up, and stays awake, he'll have to check her actual temperature.

Her hand is fisted in her shirt. He prise it away and then presses it to his lips. "There's no car, Lucy. No water and no seatbelt. You're safe," he whispers against her sweat slicked palm.

Her breathing evens out and her muscles relax but her expression is still wrinkled in pain and he can't do anything to change it. He hates this. He hates being forced to sit and watch and wait. He hopes the fever breaks quickly.

It doesn't. Of course it doesn't.

He sits by her bed every day, with the exception of his meals, and makes sure she has everything she needs. He forces her to eat and take her medication. But at this point it's a waiting game.

She has many dreams in her fevered state. One about Amy where an actual sob falls off her lips and he can't reach for her fast enough. One that seems to be about history because she mutters a few facts and dates with a faint smile. That one leaves him laughing at her just a bit because of course his historian would have seemingly pleasant dreams that double as lectures. One about the two of them, judging by the needy way she whispers his name, that elicits some interesting noises that he has to will himself to ignore.

They're three days in and the fever has reached its highest number yet. Secret bunker and national security mean next to nothing to him when he reads the 105 on the thermometer. He's this close to breaking every rule and taking her to the nearest hospital. This has gone on too long and he's worried he's not done enough. He's kept her hydrated and fed and medicated and she's only gotten worse.

She's been fully conscious only a handful of times, and even then she has a hard time remembering it later. One of those times is happening now.

Her eyes open slowly and take him in. They roam over his entire face as one of her hands comes up to scrub his thicker than usual stubble.

"You look awful," she says with a wan smile.

He's positive she's right, but with her colorless pallor and shiny skin she doesn't look much better. He chuckles and leans forward until his face is barely an inch from hers.

He lets his eyes drift over her face and then winks at her. "You're one to talk."

"I have an excuse," she tells him hoarsely. "I'm dying."

It's a joke and he knows it's a joke, but he can't laugh at it. She must understand that because she winces and gives him an apologetic glance.

"There's a reason I'm not a comedian," she says as she slips her fingers back into his hair. "Sorry."

He shakes his head at her dismissively. It doesn't really matter. He doesn't need an apology.

"You look like you need to sleep," Lucy says as she gives him a knowing look.

"I'm fine," he assures her. "Don't worry about me."

She looks as though she thinks about it for a moment before she gives him a teasing grin. "I'll stop worrying when you do."

She's got him there. "Fair enough."

She stays up long enough for him to get a little bit of food and medicine in her before she's falling back to sleep. He falls asleep in his chair next to her bed right along with her. Sometime later he's woken up by a stray kick to his knee. He looks up to find Lucy tangled in her sheets, thrashing and leaning her weight on her injured arm. She's crying and repeatedly murmuring the word no in a gut wrenching desperate whisper. He usually tries not to wake her, but he's not sure how to avoid it this time. He frames her face in his hands and caresses her cheeks with his thumbs before saying her name firmly, hoping that might be enough. Her hands come up and grip his wrists like a lifeline. Whatever she is dreaming has to be awful for her to not care about using her injured arm.

When she opens her eyes they're red and raw and wet. "You're real, right?" She asks weakly. "I'm—I'm awake?"

"I'm real, you're awake," he answers as he swallows down a lump in his throat. He's never seen this look in her eyes. It's shattered and haunted. He's seen that look in the mirror more than once, but never on her.

Before he can stop her she bolts out of bed and climbs into his lap. She buries her face in his neck and wraps her good arm around his middle. He cradles her injured arm between them to keep it as still as possible. Regardless, she'll feel the pain once the terror and adrenaline fade but he can keep her from aggravating it further.

Her skin is heated and slick, from the forehead settled into the curve of his neck to the heat radiating through the sweatpants on her legs. He knows his body heat in combination with hers has to be uncomfortable for her but she doesn't seem to care. She's too stuck in her nightmare, too relieved that he's there — too terrified — to think about it.

"Luce, what happened?" He asks as he presses his lips to her temple. "What did you see?"

"You were still dead," she answers through a sob. "I was still with them. Pretending."

There is no question who them is.

"I—I was too good at pretending," she whispers in a voice thick with tears. "I almost believed it myself." She lifts her head and glances toward her cot. "I don't want to go back there."

There as in the cot or there as in the nightmare? He's not sure which she means. Regardless, there's only one solution he can think of and he's certain he shouldn't. Her body needs to cool down and what he's thinking will not accomplish that.

"You don't have to," Wyatt promises with a kiss to her forehead. He lifts her from his lap and stands carefully. He settles her onto Jiya's cot that he's been occasionally sleeping in and then crawls in next to her. She lays on her uninjured arm so that she can lay down facing him. He brings one hand around her to rest on her back. "Better?" He asks.

She nods with a quivering bottom lip and then hides her face in his chest.

"I'm right here as long as you need me," He whispers into her hair.

Within a few minutes the rigidity of her muscles fades and he feels her breathing deeply against him. She's asleep and he's left to process her words. He knows she thought he and Rufus were dead and the Lifeboat was destroyed. He knows she killed a soldier to prove her loyalty to Emma. He knows she intended to make them think she was one of them so she could sabotage them, likely ending her own life in the process.

But he doesn't know anything that came between her thinking they were dead and her ending up in 1918 France. He told himself it couldn't have been as bad as he imagined, but for her to wake up as shaken as she did he now knew that it was exactly as bad as he imagined. Likely worse than he imagined.

With her tucked safely in his arms and no more distressing sounds hitting his ears he closes his eyes and decides to try and sleep. He manages a few hours and he breathes a sigh of relief the instant he wakes. He can tell that Lucy's body temperature has dropped several degrees simply by the feeling of her forehead against his neck.

Her fever finally broke. He's about to wake her up and force her to eat something, maybe change her bandage, when the bunker alarm sounds obnoxiously. He glances fearfully down at Lucy. She is in no condition to travel. Now that the fever's broken she'll likely feel much better but the fever isn't gone and her arm is still a gnarly shade of purple. They'll have to go without her.

She's going to hate that. He's going to hate that.

The alarm somehow doesn't wake her. He's surprised but honestly it's for the best. He slips out of bed and settles her on her back to make sure her arm won't be bothered. He changes out of his lounge pants and t-shirt so he can find out what's going on. When he reaches the silo he finds Rufus arguing with Denise.

"No, no way!" Rufus exclaims. "I'm not going to risk my life traveling with Flynn."

Wyatt bites back an irritated huff as he reaches the team. He was afraid of this. Since Lucy can't travel with them, Christopher's sending Flynn. Perfect. This should be fun, he thinks sarcastically. Without Lucy they won't know what they're looking for and then on top of that he's going to have to keep Flynn in his peripherals at all times. He just got off of one mission he hated. Why does he feel like he's going to hate this one too?

She wakes to Jiya changing her bandage. Her head feels clearer than it has in days. No groggy fog of fever or discomfort, though her arm still hurts like hell. Even with the lack of delirium, it takes her a minute to realize she's in Wyatt's—no Jiya's—cot instead of her own. She doesn't really remember how she got there, but then the last few days have been hazy. Dreams and reality all mix together until her memory is most definitely playing tricks on her.

But all attempts to sort out her thoughts stop the minute Jiya tells her Wyatt, Rufus, and Flynn went on a mission without her. Jiya must sense the edge to her tone.

"You know, Wyatt's barely left your side this whole time? I feel like you should know that but then I don't know what you remember and what you don't. You've been really out of it," Jiya tells her as she takes the thermometer out of Lucy's mouth. "He's only left this room to eat and shower."

She smiles softly and any anger at him leaving without her fades. "I remember snippets," she tells her. "And every one of them involve him. Honestly, I'm not surprised."

"Hey, you're down to 99," Jiya says brightly. "Not bad, Professor Preston."

She pushes up onto her arms but Jiya holds out her hands to stop her.

"Hey, whoa, take it easy. Don't be a hero today," she tells her. "Wyatt will kill me if you do too much."

Lucy rolls her eyes playfully. "Don't worry, I'll take the hit for you if it comes to that," Lucy tells her with a laugh. "No heroics. I just want a shower and a cup of tea. And maybe a change of clothes. These feel gross."

Jiya quirks a brow at her with a suggestive grin. "Right and you wouldn't want to look gross when Wyatt gets back. Would you?"

She chuckles and blushes slightly. "Trust me, we're a long way from that right now. Besides, if he's been here constantly for the last few days then he's already seen me look worse than this. I just feel like these clothes are permanently matted to my body."

"Totally get it," Jiya says. "Just keep that bandage out of the shower spray. And Wyatt told me to make sure you eat something."

"Of course he did," Lucy says with an amused grin. "I feel like that's all he says to me lately."

"He just worries about you," Jiya assures her. "The same way you worry about him."

Those words remind her that Wyatt is on a mission without her. Probably facing off against Emma, with Flynn causing problems. He's a loose canon and who knows what sort of danger he could cause the team. She sighs and shakes her head at herself. She needs to think about something else. "Right, shower."

"And then food," Jiya says with a pointed stare.

Lucy nods hesitantly. "Sure. Then food."

Truth be told, she's not remotely hungry but it's easier to give in to her friends than fight them. After her shower she comes back to the room to change and spots Wyatt's duffle on the floor by Jiya's cot. She bites her bottom lip and then goes in. Surely, Wyatt won't mind. It offers her a strange sort of comfort, wearing his clothes. She steals a dark blue t-shirt and pairs it with her own light grey sweatpants. She pulls the brown robe on, puts her uninjured arm in the sleeve and then lets the other side drape over her shoulder uselessly.

She ventures out into the bunker and heads to the kitchen. She can still feel the fever but not enough to really makes an impact. She's steady on her feet and only slightly fatigued. She holds her arm as she walks to keep it from moving with every step. She shuffles around the kitchen making tea and bland toast. She grabs a banana too and then sits at one of the kitchen tables.

A minute or two passes before someone sits down across from her. She looks up to see Agent Christopher smiling kindly at her.

"You look much better," she says with a teasing grin.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're not sweating out a fever," she tells her with an amused snort.

"It's been a tough week for you, hasn't it?"

Lucy shrugs with her shoulder that's not attached to her injured arm. She knows what Denise means. Nearly hanging in Salem, the knife wound, the fever, her mother. "I'm on the mend."

"That's not what I meant," Denise replies with a sympathetic gaze.

Lucy sighs heavily. "I know what you meant. I'm fine."

"Your mother tried to have you hanged as a witch. I'd imagine that would be a little bit upsetting." Her voice is soft and kind but Lucy can hear the firm push of a mother in her tone as she continues. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, but thanks for asking." Honestly, she doesn't even want to think about it. There are a lot of things she doesn't want to think about lately.

That never used to be her life. Her accident was the only thing she really kept hidden from people. Now, though, she feels full of secret wounds and scars she'd rather cover up than show off. What would life be like as an open book? She'll probably never know.

Denise looks ready to ask another question but Lucy is saved by the alarm. The Lifeboat's coming back. Her stomach clenches in worry. She knows she'll be uneasy until the hatch door opens and her team steps out. She follows Denise to the monitors and stands just below the platform, holding her arm and waiting impatiently. The eyeball shaped orb pops into existence and to her great relief Wyatt is the first to climb out.

Wyatt is so focused on Christopher as he climbs out that he doesn't notice her, at first. He looks frantic as he grabs the stairs and rolls them into place. He's explaining how they floundered to figure out who they were looking for or what was happening without her and she bites back a grin. She hates the mission went off the rails but she would be lying if she said it wasn't gratifying to hear that they needed her.

Her brow furrows though as she remembers something Jiya told her earlier. Flynn went with him, but all she sees now is Wyatt and Rufus.

"Wait," she asks loud enough for Wyatt and Rufus to finally notice her. "Where's Flynn?" Wyatt's head whips in her direction and a smile lights up his face at the sight of her. She looks away from him as she blushes and then looks back up expectantly. "Well?"

He looks guiltily between her and Denise and Jiya before he answers, a little sheepishly. "We had to split up."

"You left him there?" Christopher asks in shock.

"We're gonna go back and pick him up," Wyatt answers flippantly, with clear distaste for the man they left behind. "After we deal with our situation."

His gaze drifts to Lucy with an apologetic half smile, waiting for her to ask.

"What situation?" She asks him suspiciously as her eyes narrow on him.

Rufus looks at her with a wince as Wyatt climbs up the steps and into the Lifeboat. When he emerges from the hatch a second time he's holding a limp unconscious body that she unfortunately recognizes right away.

"Who is that?" Denise asks.

Lucy feels the blood drain for her face and imagines she looks just as pale as she did while she was in the worst of her sickness. "Oh my god. You have got to be kidding me. Please please tell me that is not who I think it is."

Wyatt hauls him down the stairs and then Rufus helps him support the teen when he reaches the bottom step.

"It's not who you think it is," Rufus replies. "Unless you think it's young JFK and then it's definitely who you think it is."

Lucy closes her eyes with a grimace and then releases her arm to press a hand to her forehead. She lets out a frustrated groan and looks between her two teammates in exasperation.

Wyatt gives her a weak smile and shrugs with his free shoulder. "At least he's not dead?"

Just when she thinks she's seen it all, something like this happens. They deposit JFK in Mason's room and make a plan. Flynn is taking care of the sleepers in the past and they simply have to keep JFK contained to the bunker until the Lifeboat is charged. They awkwardly establish their cover story with JFK and it's doubtful that he believes them, but they lock him in a room and then leave. Giving him time to process and Wyatt and Rufus time to recover and change.

She's only been awake for a few hours but she's already feeling exhausted. This is an unknown problem to all of them and she's terrified about all the things that could go wrong. After all, when have things ever gone according to plan?

Wyatt catches up to her as they leave Mason's room. "You're out of bed," he says as he sweeps his gaze over the length of her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she tells him. "Not a hundred percent yet, but getting there."

"And your arm?" He asks as he reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together.

"Sore," she replies with a sigh.

He uses his hold on her hand to pull her to him and then loops an arm around her waist to hold her there. "Well, you look beautiful," he says with a fond smile.

She blushes and chuckles at him while shaking her head. "I do not. I'm bare faced and wearing sweats."

"But you have clear eyes and color on your face and…" he stops as his eyes land on the t-shirt she's wearing and then his smile turns crooked. "You're wearing my shirt. All very good things. Especially after this past week."

She presses her forehead to his and closes her eyes. "Jiya told me that you barely left the room."

"You needed me," he says as if the reason is obvious. "There was no where else I wanted to be."

That sentiment is enough to make her melt, but it's so typical of Wyatt Logan. She needed him and he was there. He wanted to be there. Willingly sacrificing his time to help others is ingrained in him. She keeps her eyes closed in order to take him in. The solid feel of him holding her, the current low tone of his voice that she's discovering he saves just for her, the spicy smell that he's somehow maintained after running around in the thirties— every little detail.

He is reckless but not careless. It's an amazing contradiction and one of the many reasons she fell in love with him. She tries not to tense as that statement casually rolls across her consciousness. She had acknowledged long ago that she had fallen for Wyatt Logan, but she never really thought she would end up here. In a public hallway with his arms wrapped around her and so unashamed in his affection for her. Many things in her life are unbelievable and many of them are for horrifying reasons, but this one thing...it's unbelievable for totally different reasons. All of them breathtaking in the best way.

Finally, she opens her eyes. She finds his eyes staring right at her, shining with relief and adoration. She nearly reels back in surprise. She's never had anyone look at her like that. She doesn't even really know how to describe it. It makes her wonder how long he's been looking at her like that and how she's never noticed. Or how no one else has ever noticed.

"You think Christopher and Mason have figured it out yet?" She asks him.

He winces and then laughs lightly and it amazes her that he knows exactly what she's talking about without having to ask. "I wasn't exactly discreet so...it's likely? No one's asked me about it but with this group that doesn't mean anything."

"So much for not announcing it, huh?" She asks him with a teasing grin.

"Yeah, I didn't count on any of this," he tells her as he bashfully scratches the back of his neck. "Things kind of go from one extreme to the other around here, don't they?"

She nods and chuckles. "From fever inducing knife wound to a time traveling teenage president. It never stops."

His hand comes up and his fingers graze over her cheek. His eyes soften and he lets out a relieved sigh before he speaks. "I'm glad the fever inducing part is over at least."

There's a loud noise around the corner, like someone has dropped something, and Mason's voice floats toward them. Lucy backs away from Wyatt just in case there's any chance they haven't figured it out.

"You had to put him in my room?" Mason asks Christopher with an irritated huff.

"It's only for a few hours, you can deal with it," Christopher says with a roll of her eyes. She spots Wyatt and Lucy and glares at them suspiciously. "You two still here?" She asks as she motions to the hallway. "Go, rest. You both need it."

"Uh, right," Lucy says with an awkward clearing of her throat. "I was just going to go make John a sandwich. He, um— he might be hungry."

"Yes," Wyatt says as he rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the floor. "And I'm going to hit the showers."

They head off in opposite directions, Lucy to the kitchen and him toward her room to grab his shower kit. To throw off suspicion, Lucy actually does make John a sandwich, but when she brings it to him he's gone. She calls for everyone as soon as she spots the open shaft. This is exactly what she's been fearing.

Wyatt skids into the room, not even changed from the last jump. He looks panicked and heads straight for Lucy.

"What?" He asks as he places a hand on her neck and looks her over. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" She asks frantically. "John is gone!" She points to the shaft with the plate she still holds in her good hand. "Out there in 2018!"

Her breathing speeds up and she feels panic seizing her chest. Anything could happen. He could be hit by a car, killed by a criminal, or one of his medical conditions could flare up and he would be nowhere near a hospital. Any one of those things would mean disaster. Their present would change and worst of all they wouldn't even know it.

"Lucy," Wyatt says as he uses his hand on her neck to direct her to look at him. "Breathe, okay? We'll...we'll go get him. We'll bring him back."

She's about to ask him how and if he realizes how slim the chance of that is when Denise and Rufus come running into the room. Wyatt guides Lucy to the nearest chair and then busies himself by inspecting the shaft. They discuss what to do. Rufus and Jiya and Mason will search for him through security footage from the Bunker. While Christopher relents and agrees to let Wyatt have a car to search for him on the ground. Christopher will run point from her office.

She assumes she'll go too. Wyatt can't be out there alone because Denise is right. Rittenhouse will find him and she needs to be there to back him up, even if she's not exactly a strong force in a fight.

Until Wyatt places a hand on her shoulder and focuses his concerned blue eyes on her. "Alright. Hey, I think you should sit this one out. Get some rest."

Her mouth drops open slightly when those words leave his lips. She's just missed one mission and it didn't go well. She's not missing this one too. Her eyebrows raise and Wyatt seems to know he's said something wrong. The confusion is written across his face.

"I've rested plenty," she tells him. "I'm fine."

"Lucy, you just spent the week with a 105 fever recovering from a stab wound," he tells her with a tired glance.

"Right, and the fever broke. I'm fine. I seem to recall you going on a jump less than a week after you were shot once or am I misremembering that?" Lucy asks him defiantly.

Rufus and Jiya pointedly look away from them before exchanging awkward glances.

Wyatt takes a deep calming breath before running a hand across his face. She can see him holding back his irritation as he replies. "That's my job. I am here to take the hits. You're here for the history which I can get just as easily from you here as I can out there."

That hits a nerve. She can't deny that it does. She stands from the chair and narrows her eyes into a heated glare. "So, is that how this is going to work now? You just stash me away until you need to ask me a question?" He backs up as she corners him, her glare never relenting. "Am I supposed to sit here like a princess in an ivory tower?"

"Lucy, that's not what I—"

She's beyond caring what he meant. She only cares about he said. She will not let that happen. She will not be a princess. It's enough that her stomach rolls every time Emma uses that nickname against her. So, she cuts him off.

"You can't take on Rittenhouse alone. You said yourself that they'll be chasing him too. You need someone to watch your back. And maybe I'm not Delta Force but you can't pretend we don't make a good team. You know we do," she tells him as she props her hand from her good arm on her hip. "This is no different than any other jump, Wyatt. I'm going."

Before anyone else can say a word Lucy marches from the room, intending to change clothes while Denise arranges for a car. She hears Wyatt sputtering behind her but doesn't stop. She reaches her room and he slips in before she can close the thick metal door.

"Lucy, stop," he says with aggravated huff. "Will you let me talk?"

She rolls her eyes and starts going through her pathetic wardrobe for something to wear. "Do you plan on saying something else that sounds ignorant and chauvinistic? Because if so I'd better not."

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he assures her in a softer tone. "And I only suggested it because your fever just broke this morning. You're not fully recovered yet. You don't need the unnecessary stress."

"The stress won't go away if you leave me here," she tells him with a scoff. "Besides, you need me. What do you know about Kennedy? His personal details, his early years — do you have any idea what he was like as a teenager?"

He sighs in defeat and shakes his head. "No. None. In fact, I find it hard to believe that skinny kid grows up and has affairs with Marilyn Monroe and Judith Campbell."

"See?" She says as she straightens her posture with a meaningful grin. "You need me."

"Trust me, that's never been up for debate," he admits earnestly. "I need you and I need you alive most of all."

She turns and looks at him then, really looks at him, and sees the fear and the stress in his eyes. He's worried for her. It's only natural. He's spent the entire week looking after her and now that she's looking healthier he wants to keep her that way. But he doesn't understand. That's a two way street. She needs to make sure he's safe just as much as he needs her safe.

She puts down the clothes in her hand and then walks toward him. He looks wary as she crosses the room, but then she brings her hand up to cradle the side of his face and the wary look vanishes immediately. He leans into her touch and brings one of his hands up to trap hers against his cheek.

"That goes both ways, Master Sergeant," she tells him. "Going out there alone while Rittenhouse is looking for us is not a good idea. I understand that you're US Army Special Forces but you're meant to be part of a team so I'm not letting you do this by yourself. It's too big of a risk. I need to make sure you come back to me and this is the best way to do that. Let me help you."

He turns his head and kisses her palm before smiling knowingly at her. "It's not as though I can really stop you anyway, right?"

"And now you're learning," she replies with a light laugh.

"Just...leave the cowboy stuff to me, okay?" He asks with a stern expression.

She nods her agreement. "I can do that. That's not a problem." She leans up on her toes and places a lingering kiss on his lips. "Now," she says as she pulls away. "Do you have a sweatshirt I can borrow? For luck?"

He smirks at her and chuckles. "Oh, that's what that's for? For luck? Because I just thought you just liked stealing my clothes."

"I mean, it could be lucky. Who's to say it isn't?" She asks as she smirks right back at him.

He laughs and then pulls a plain black sweatshirt from his duffle bag. He holds it up for her to see. "How's this? Good enough?"

She snatches it from him and grins brightly. "Perfectly adequate. Thank you."

Chasing Kennedy is a mess. There are tight lipped gas station attendants, a lack of cameras where they need them most, and a stubborn nurse. He and Lucy bicker about each lead as it comes but more often than not he follows her instincts because she's never steered him wrong before. Especially not now that they've reached this hospital and gotten confirmation that John is there.

Emma is one step ahead of them as always and Wyatt takes off after her as soon as he spots her. It leads to a fight that's more evenly matched than he cares to admit until Lucy steps in, with some of that cowboy stuff he asked her not to do, and suddenly Emma has a knife to Lucy's throat. His gun is aimed and the safety is off, but he can't take the shot. Lucy is begging him to, but he can't. He can't risk losing her. Not even if it means taking out Rittenhouse's only pilot.

"You're doing an excellent job protecting the little princess, Soldier Boy," Emma says with a taunting grin as she presses the blade closer to Lucy's pale neck. "If you were doing any better of a job she'd already be bleeding out on the linoleum."

In the second Wyatt's mind takes to picture that horrifying image, Emma is tossing Lucy at him and making a break for it. At the moment, the only thing that matters is Lucy. He asks if she's okay and searches her eyes. They're fearful but not broken. She assures him she's fine and urges him to go after Emma. He reluctantly agrees and takes off out the door...only to be stopped by hospital security.

As he's being handcuffed and led away he hears Lucy arguing with the guard and then feels her small hand drop something in his palm. His fist closes around it and he grins. A paperclip. Genius.

Lucy's already waiting for him at the front of the hospital when he pulls up a few minutes later. He's managed to ditch the handcuffs and the guard in the amount of time it took her to walk downstairs. She grins at him with pride as she climbs in the passenger seat.

"See? I told you," she says primly. "You need me."

Just like the first time she said it, he can't argue with that so he simply replies, "Yes, ma'am."

Jiya suggests searching social media for Kennedy and Lucy agrees its a good idea. Pretty soon after that they're on their way to a high school party in Palo Alto where John's been spotted. They split up when they arrive and Wyatt is clear that should Lucy find Emma then she should call him and not engage. He's not risking another knife to her throat. From there it all goes as he expects. He finds John and the kid bolts but he stops when Emma points a gun at him. Wyatt saves the kid and Emma retreats. He would go after her but getting John home is a more pressing concern.

When Lucy finds them again her good arm is immediately thrown around him. She pulls back to look him over. "I heard gunshots! Are you okay?"

"I'm good," he assures her as he points to young JFK. "We're good."

From there, they get John home and pick up Flynn. This time it all goes smoothly and when they land back in the present he assumes the worst is over, until he gets a look at Christopher's beaten face. She doesn't tell him what happened right away. She's busy talking to Rufus but just as he reaches the kitchen he hears her rushed footfalls behind him.

He turns, knowing he'll find her, as she speaks with a grave expression.

"We need to talk."

Never words that he likes to hear.

He was really hoping to see Lucy before getting more bad news. Once they're locked in Mason's room, where they had stashed Kennedy, Wyatt turns and gestures to his own eye.

"Does what we need to talk about have anything to do with the goose egg on your face?" He asks.

"A little present from Carol Preston and her thug," she tells him.

His stomach clenches in worry and his brow furrows. "Carol grabbed you? Why?"

"She was begging for my help. She wants Lucy off the missions," Denise says with a conflicted sigh. "I've already talked to Lucy about it but, seeing as it's your job to look out for her and Rufus, I felt you should know. Carol Preston says Rittenhouse has put a Target on Lucy's back. She's a nuisance and a liability. They want her dead."

She says it quick like she's ripping off a band aid but it doesn't ease the blow. He still feels as if the wind is knocked out of him. He knew that was the case on some level but if it's reached a point where Carol Preston is reaching out to Denise then that means they're putting actual resources behind it. It's a hit. They've essentially put a hit out on Lucy.

"They want her dead."

No, not gonna happen, god dammit. The rest of his conversation with Denise is a blur. He knows they're talking about keeping a closer eye on Lucy during the missions but he's not really present. Before the conversation ends though he does collect himself enough to ask one question.

"You said you talked to Lucy, already?" He asks.

Denise nods. "She basically said that if everyone else is out there risking their lives then she has every right to do the same." Denise smiles proudly at him before she speaks again. "You know, Lucy really is remarkable. If I were a civilian, I don't know that I would be as resilient as her."

He's had that thought many times. That was not his first impression of her, though. Hearing her resume had impressed him but then she had walked away from the mission. When she came back, he assumed he would be saddled with carrying her through the missions. Babysitting. But he wasn't. She has always held her own, and he is not surprised that she wants to continue to do just that. He's impressed and proud but with both of those things comes this feeling of dread. The stakes have been raised now. They no longer want to recruit her. Now, they've decided she's more trouble than she's worth.

"Do you think there's any way to convince her to change her mind? Or that you would consider her safety over what she wants?" Wyatt asks reluctantly. He's a soldier. Not private security. He knows his questions will seem suspicious. If Lucy understands the risks and still wants to fight that's not up to him or Denise. He's well aware of that fact. But he has to ask.

"You know her better than I do, Master Sergeant," Christopher says with pointed glance. "Do you think she'll change her mind?"

"No," he answers immediately. "Lucy will never choose to let us risk our lives while she stays tucked away in the bunker."

"She knows what's at stake," Christopher reminds him. "And it's her life, her choices. If I try to dictate that for her then I'm no better than Carol Preston, am I?"

It's a good point. He knows it's a good point because he feels like he's been reprimanded. He hasn't, but the intention behind the words is clear. Christopher means to remind him to be better than Carol. To care for and support Lucy, but never control her. As terrified as he is of losing her, he'll admit that he needed that reminder.

"I understand, ma'am," He says with a respectful nod.

"Be sure that you do," she tells him. "She doesn't need another person to fight against right now."

The idea of fighting with Lucy pains him. He doesn't want to be a source of stress for her. That's for other people. People like Emma and Carol, but not him. Never him. Not if he can help it.

Denise dismisses him and he heads straight for Lucy's room. He knows Christopher said she already gave her answer but he has to double check. He has to make sure she understands what that choice means.

The image of Emma holding a knife to Lucy's throat comes back to him unbidden and he considers what could have happened. The possibility that Emma presented to him is what he finds. Lucy's throat slit and bleeding out across the hospital floor. It's gruesome and horrible. He feels his eyes watering at the thought. He cannot lose her. He won't. He thought he lost her once and he refuses to let that happen again.

He's passing the bathroom when she barges through the door and runs straight into him. He catches her by her good arm and feels the silk of her floral robe under his hands. She smiles warmly when she sees him. He called her beautiful earlier and she questioned him, but he was being truthful. She is beautiful. She's always beautiful. Especially now when she looks so happy to see him. He hates to ruin it, but he feels like he's going to.

"You're back," she says brightly. Her eyes dim when she takes in his expression, which he knows is stormy at best. "Are you okay?"

"I just finished talking to Christopher," he answers her with a furrowed brow. "I was coming to see you to talk about it."

Recognition flashes across her face and he knows that she understands what he's referring to. She nods slowly and takes a deep breath. "Right, then let's talk."

She takes his hand in hers while keeping her injured arm tucked into her side and pulls him down the hall. Her eyes find his hesitantly as they walk. He can see that she's worried about what he's thinking, and he's worried too. He's worried that they're in for a repeat of their fight from earlier that day.

The door closes behind them and she turns on him swiftly.

"She told you? About what my mother said?" She asks him as she nervously bites her bottom lip.

He nods stoically. "I think she felt I needed to have all the information."

There's a moment of silence where they both wait for someone to start. Wyatt's trying to take Denise's warning to heart. He's trying to put together exactly what to say and in the meantime keep his face as impassive as possible. He wants to handle this the correct way. He's trying to be careful with Lucy in a way that he never was with Jess. But she must take his silence for something else because her expression is nervous and near frantic when she finally breaks their silence.

"I'm not staying locked up here, Wyatt," she tells him with eyes that plead with him to understand. "I can't stay here while all of you are out there. I've done that. I've been locked up in isolation and I can't—" she cuts herself off as her eyes start to water and she swings her head from side to side, trying to shake the moment. But Wyatt files the information away. She's refused to talk about her time with Rittenhouse and that admission feels like a slip up. "If you're all out there risking your lives then I'm going to as well. Because this fight is more mine than anyone else's. It's my family, my legacy — and I have to be the one to finish it. Please, don't ask me to stay behind."

Even if he does ask, he knows she won't stay behind. If anything she'll simply resent him for asking. That's the last thing he wants.

"I won't, Lucy," he promises as he takes a step toward her. "I should ask you that. I should. But I won't. You're right. It's your fight more than anyone else's."

He means it. He really does. He's scared out of his mind that he's going to lose her, but he won't ask her to shut herself off from the fight.

She gives him a skeptical look and takes a hesitant step to meet him in the middle of the room. "But?" She asks knowingly.

"But...this is different than it's been in the past. Before you were safe because of Carol. Because of your father. Now, you're a mission. An assignment. They won't stop until they take you out or we take them out. I'm not going to ask you to stay behind," he tells her as he reaches for her hand and interlocks his fingers with hers. "But I am going to ask you to be careful. You're too important to me to lose — too important to this fight to lose. I need to know that you're not going to pull another stunt like you did tonight." He keeps his tone firm but low. He can't stress enough how seriously he wants her to take this. "Emma nearly killed you tonight and if she hadn't needed to get away, she would have."

She squeezes his hand and then nods. Her eyes find the floor and stay there. "I know. You're right. But I can't lose you either and as much as you don't want to admit this...Emma was kicking your ass."

He can't resist chuckling at her. It's true. He was getting his ass handed to him, but he would have figured it out. He was confident in that. "At that particular moment, yes, but if you'd given me a second to rebound I would have made a comeback."

Her eyes find his again and he can see a question lingering in them that she doesn't know if she should ask.

"What?" He asks. "What is it?"

"You—you didn't shoot," she points out. "You could have shot Emma but you didn't. I expected you to. I mean Flynn using me as a shield didn't stop you at the Hindenburg so I—"

"I was an idiot at the Hindenburg," he insists as he interrupts her. "Really, that whole mission. I was an idiot. Just so we're clear."

She grins softly at him and rolls her eyes. "You weren't, but we're drifting from my point. Why? Why didn't you shoot?"

"Because...because it's you, Luce," he says as he places his other hand on her waist and pulls her to him. "I couldn't risk hurting you. I told you. You're too important to me. I need you and I need you alive."

She releases his hand and then brings her good arm up to wrap around his neck. "I need you too," she admits with a beaming smile. Her hand lands on the back of his neck and caresses the skin there. "In case you're wondering, this is where you kiss me."

"Right, sorry, I should've known that," he replies with a mirthful grin before pressing his lips to hers.

They're both exhausted and Lucy's still recovering from her wound so it doesn't go much further than a few heated kisses. Each kiss is a promise for more once they've both processed the day's events. He leaves to take a shower and when he comes back Lucy has pushed both cots together and is lounging across them, propped up by pillows as she reads a brick of a book he's never heard of.

He narrows his eyes at her and the way her injured arm is resting in her lap. "You shouldn't have moved the cots by yourself."

"They're light, I was fine," she says as she shrugs dismissively. "I'm pretty sure you were tired of me sleeping on top of you but I didn't want to sleep without you. This was the best solution. Just come to bed."

It's a layout that is surprisingly domestic and makes the room immediately feel cozier. Watching her as she reads in bed creates a warmth that slowly spreads across his chest. He suddenly imagines this being a nightly occurrence. He sees himself coming back to the room to her reading every night and waking every morning to her curled into him. He realizes he wants it. He wants that with her. But for that to happen they need to tell Christopher, Mason, and Flynn what's going on between them. Is he ready for that?

Part of him says yes, but the part of him that hasn't navigated a relationship like this one says no. He resolves to think about it more deeply later. Right now, he can feel sleep catching up with him after two trips to the past in one day, not to mention chasing a displaced teenage JFK all over California. Once he's settled in bed Lucy sets her book aside and then curls into him. She's a perfect fit. Her soft curves compliment his hard lines like no one else's ever could. He falls asleep to the feeling of her hands running through his hair and it's the best sleep he's ever had.

They go back to their regular rooming situation a day later and Lucy hates it. She has a hard time sleeping these days but with Wyatt she somehow manages it. Not for as long as she should, she knows that, but it's more sleep than she gets on her own. She starts hiding a bottle of vodka under her bed and drinks some of it after Jiya falls asleep each night. It soothes away the bad memories and lulls her to sleep. On average she figures she gets maybe three hours a night, on a particularly good night, but she survives. She remains focused and resolved in their fight against Rittenhouse.

But she knows she could be better, and she misses Wyatt's presence in her room.

He misses her too. She can tell. He's always waiting for her in the kitchen when she wakes up and he walks her to her room every night. He's savoring every moment he can get and so is she. Like now, a week after he's gone back to his own room with Rufus, they're sitting at a table in the kitchen quietly sipping coffee. They haven't talked about anything substantial. They don't need to. They just need each other. It doesn't matter what they talk about or if they talk at all.

"So," Wyatt says as he awkwardly clears his throat. "I've been thinking…" his sentence trails off and his eyes drift from hers nervously.

"Yes?" She asks when he doesn't continue.

"About this not telling people thing." He stops to take a sip of his coffee and narrows his eyes thoughtfully on the surface of the table. "Maybe we should."

She lifts her brows and grins crookedly at him. "Maybe we should what? Start telling people?"

"Officially, yes," he replies with a sigh of relief. His eyes find hers again and she sees them shining with hope. "I think we should tell the others."

She opens her mouth to voice her agreement when the bunker alarm goes off. She groans and then reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. "We'll finish this later."

Later doesn't come for a while because Christopher decides to send Flynn with the team instead of him. To say Wyatt is livid is probably an understatement. She can see it in his eyes. She imagines it's worse given what they learned after their last mission. She knows it's worse for her.

Denise expects her to trust Flynn with her life when he's been nothing but antagonistic to her since that first talk in prison? How? And if there's a target on her back she needs trust the people she's with.

She grabs Wyatt's hand as she passes him on her way to the Lifeboat. She squeezes comfortingly and gives him an encouraging glance. She tries to assure him that she'll be fine, but she doesn't think she's successful because the look he gives her in return is full of warning.

Be careful. Be wary. Keep Flynn on a short leash.

How she understands all of that in one glance, she's not sure. But she reads it on his face clear as day.

There's also the matter of why Denise held Wyatt back. Is it because she knows about the two of them and thinks it's a conflict? Does she have something even more dangerous for Wyatt to accomplish? Lucy feels uneasy and a bit sick to her stomach, and neither of those feelings has anything to do with time travel.

"Keep them safe."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Wyatt turns his back as Flynn climbs in the Lifeboat with Rufus and Lucy. He can't watch. He only turns back around as the Lifeboat disappears and then glares at Denise. He is beyond pissed. She just told him about the price on Lucy's head and now she keeps him from protecting her? It doesn't make any sense. And then to give Flynn a gun? To send him out there to watch their backs when he spent nearly an entire year trying to kill them?

"Please, you don't trust Flynn any more than Rufus or me. What the hell is going on here? Why am I not with the team? And it better be a damn good reason because you just sent Lucy off to face Rittenhouse with only Flynn to—"

"How would you like to take out Rittenhouse for good?"

He stops abruptly. Stop talking, stops moving, possibly stops breathing. "How?"

Denise goes over the location and her plan. If Lucy were here she would freak out. Denise is sending him in alone. Maybe it's best he's doing this while she's not here. He would understand her worry, but it's an intelligence operation. Stealth not assault. In and out. He's done that by himself plenty of times before.

Or so they think.

One thing leads to another and suddenly he's raiding Rittenhouse all by his lonesome and has Carol Preston in his crosshairs. He freezes.

Denise is in his ear yelling at him to shoot but he can't. All he sees is Lucy.

Lucy sobbing on his shoulder when her mother didn't choose her, Lucy crying after Salem because Carol tried to have her hanged. Lucy telling him she once thought her mother was Superwoman while he held her in the trunk of Wendell's car. He remembers the story she told about the books her mother used to read to her. He sees her absently clutching her locket, mourning the family she's lost. Which, cult leader status or not, includes the woman Denise wants him to put a bullet in. Despite it all, she wants her mother back. She hopes she can win her over to their side. She never says it but she clings to the idea that someday her mother might change her mind.

Wyatt can't be the one to take that away from her. How will he ever look her in the eyes again if he does this? She's been hurt enough and, even though he knows he should, he can't shoot. And the worst part of all of it is that Carol knows. She knows why. She sees straight through his hesitance.

He stands frozen for too long. Three shots hit his Kevlar and send him flying across the room. He keeps shooting at the man that's leading Carol away, who he thinks is Keynes, but he knows his focus is off. He's not landing any of his shots. The Mothership disappears and Wyatt's stomach drops. He's made a mess of this and he can't set it right now.

He hears Denise and Jiya asking if he's okay over the coms and it's the only thing that shakes him back to the present.

"They're gone," he replies with panting breaths.

He waits, as instructed, for Denise to meet him at the location. She gives him the lecture he deserves about hesitating. He doesn't deny it. If he were less aware of how he felt about Lucy, he might. But he knows. No point in pretending his feelings aren't tied up in this job. They are and there's nothing he can do to untangle them now.

And he's not the only one.

"Carol Preston is the enemy," Denise says, as if he needs the reminder.

That's the moment he's done being lectured. Denise pretending to be above letting her feelings influence her decisions is the moment he snaps. Because acting as though she's unaffected by the crossover of work and personal is a damn lie.

"All due respect, ma'am. My judgement wasn't the only one clouded here. You said yourself this was an intelligence gathering operation. We crossed the line from intelligence to assault a long time ago. Are we going to pretend you wanting to take out Carol Preston had nothing to do with those bruises on your face?"

"That's out of line," she says as she glares at him.

He sighs tiredly and shakes his head at her. "Maybe, but it's true. This mission is personal for all of us. Especially Lucy. Carol is the only member of Rittenhouse trying to help her. Her reasons are seriously screwed up but she's still trying to keep her safe. If we take her out then Rittenhouse might take out Lucy a hell of a lot faster. Besides that, do you want to be the one to tell Lucy you authorized the shot that killed her mother?"

Denise flinches at that last question, but she ignores it. Disregards everything he said completely, actually, and merely replies, "I'll take it from here. Go home."

On the way home he wonders if Lucy will be there waiting on him or if they're still out on their mission. The minute he opens the door he knows she's home. He hears her laughter clear across the bunker. The mission must have been a success, despite Flynn. At the very least the sound of her laugh assures him she made it home safe. But after what he's just been through, he needs to see her. He needs to talk to her. He simply needs to be with her.

He turns the corner that heads toward the bedrooms, with his helmet in one hand and his gun in the other, and finds Lucy and Flynn smiling pleasantly at each other. He wishes he could say he didn't feel jealousy rising in his chest, but he can't. It's one of his most hateful flaws. He tries to suppress it as best he can.

"Lucy," he calls out. "Can I talk to you a minute?"

She turns and her brow furrows at the sight of his tactical gear. She gives Flynn an apologetic look and then turns to give Wyatt her undivided attention. Flynn continues down the hallway with a look back over his shoulder that Wyatt can't figure out and doesn't exactly like. He doesn't like that Flynn seems to be different with Lucy than he is with everyone else. But then he basically just doesn't like Flynn.

She steps toward him and meets his eyes with a look of concern. "What did Agent Christopher have you do?"

He glances around the hall warily and then nods in the direction of his room. "You mind if we take this somewhere else?"

The secrecy implied in his tone has her worry increasing but she nods and falls into step beside him. "I haven't seen you in your full tactical gear," she says. "If you wore the full getup then it must have been serious."

They reach his room and he holds the door open for her. Once she's inside, he grabs his tie from the last mission and ties it around the door handle. This time more for privacy than anything else. This is not a discussion he wants Rufus barging in on. He closes the door and then dumps the helmet on his cot. He sets the gun on his desk. He'll deal with it later. He's starts to remove his gear one piece at a time while Lucy stands awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"You can sit," he tells her with a small amused grin.

"I'd...I'd rather hear what you have to say first," she says nervously. "It seemed serious and you look...defeated."

He gulps nervously and shakes his head. "Not defeated. Not really. Just," he stops as he tries to think of a word. "Conflicted."

He winces as he sheds the vest. He can already feel the soreness in his chest from the three bullet impacts. He knows he'll find bruises there when he takes a shower.

"Are you hurt?" She asks as she steps closer to him and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Where?"

"I'm fine, just got good use out of my vest tonight," he says with a wan smile. "I'm sore, that's all."

"From what? Wyatt, what happened?" Lucy asks with a frustrated sigh.

"We found Rittenhouse headquarters," he tells her quickly. "I raided it."

Her face screws up with a confused glance. "You raided it? Does that mean that you...Oh God, Wyatt. Did Denise send you in alone?"

"Lucy, it was fine. I'm fine," he assures her as he places his hands on her hips and pulls her against him. "Just a few bruises."

"I can't believe she sent you in there alone," Lucy says as her concern turns to outrage.

"I can handle it," he assures her. "I'm trained to handle it."

"No, Wyatt, there's—there's more at risk in that place than death. They could have easily overpowered you if they wanted to and then who the hell knows what they would have done," she frames his face in her hands and shakes her head at him. "They might find it useful to have a member of Delta Force on their side who's seen the inside of the Lifeboat. I—I wouldn't wish their particular brand of persuasion on my worst enemy, least of all you."

He covers her hands with his own as her thumbs caress his cheeks and takes in her tearful gaze. He has questions about her time with Rittenhouse that he wants to ask but he doesn't want to push her. Especially when she keeps slowly revealing details all on her own.

"Lucy, I'm trained to handle it," he repeats. "I'm prepared for physical, mental, and emotional attacks."

A single tear escapes her and the next words that leave her lips drip with sadness and bitterness. "Must be useful. I wish I was."

"You're here, aren't you?" He asks her with an empathetic gaze. "You fought your way out. Do you know how impressive that is?" He's sure she doesn't. He tugs one of her hands away from his face and brings it to his lips. "You're a civilian and you survived it with the fortitude of a soldier. Lucy, I served with guys who weren't anywhere near as strong as you. You're a beast and a badass. Never doubt that."

He's sure his eyes are as red as hers as another tear falls down her cheek. He closes the distance between them and kisses the track of the tear as it slides down her face. As he pulls away he gives her a reassuring glance that's meant to ask if she's alright. She nods and then takes one step back from him to wipe at her cheeks.

"So," she says with a sniffle. "What happened?"

"What?" He asks. He's so wrapped up in her that he momentarily forgot what they were talking about.

"On the raid," she clarifies as she takes a deep breath. He watches her pull herself together in utter amazement. "What happened?"

"Most of it was pretty typical. Took down some Rittenhouse muscle. They destroyed most of the evidence. Christopher is there trying to salvage something now. But I'm not her favorite person at the moment so she sent me back here," Wyatt informs her with a sigh. He steps back from her, unsure how she'll take this next bit of news.

"Why?" She asks.

"She ordered me to take a shot and I refused," he answers with a thick swallow. He sits down on his cot and leans his elbows on his knees.

"That doesn't sound like you," Lucy says in concern as she sits down next to him. "Why?"

"Because the person she wanted me to shoot...was your mother," he admits with a shaky exhale.

She sucks in a breath and he feels her hand on his back. "Oh God, Wyatt."

"She walked in right in the middle of everything and I had her. Point blank shot. Any other target and I wouldn't have hesitated. I shouldn't have hesitated with her," he says before he buries his head in his hands.

"So then why...why did you?" She asks reluctantly.

He sits up and looks her straight the eyes while he answers. "Because I kept thinking about you. I heard your story from when we were stranded in 1754 about the books she read to you, I remembered your words from Wendell's trunk, I saw your face when we got back from 1918–She's your mother, Lucy. I couldn't be the one to take her from you." He shakes his head and then cups the side of her face. He lets his thumb trace a slow path across her cheek. "I won't be that guy. And if that makes me less of a soldier then I can't bring myself to give a damn."

By the time he finishes, her eyes are watering and her bottom lip is quivering. Before he knows it she's launching herself at him, holding him tightly. So tightly that the bruises on his chest are aching, but it doesn't matter. They need this moment. He needs this moment. She presses her cheek to his and he feels her hands running through his hair. She turns her head and he feels kisses being pressed to his temple, the hinge of his jaw, the shell of his ear.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "You shouldn't have to be in this position. I wish you weren't. I know that has to be hard for you."

His arms enfold and tighten around her as he buries his head in her shoulder. He can't bring himself to reply. There's no easy resolution. He knows that. There's nothing either of them can do to resolve this situation. He's overcome with emotion. For her, for him. For everyone who's been dragged into this war. Instead he softly kisses her shoulder and neck and settles for holding her as tightly as he can.

Finally, he's able to think of something to say. It's the one thing he wants more than anything in that moment. "Stay with me tonight," he requests. "Please."

"There's nowhere else I want to be," she replies.

He recognizes the words. He thinks he's said them to her before. But he can't be sure. All that matters is that she'll be sleeping next to him tonight, right where she belongs.

She wakes up the next morning in two cots that have been pushed together and made up into one bed. She's laying on her side with Wyatt spooned behind her, his arm holding her securely against him. It feels like they've always been meant to sleep this way and she doesn't want to disturb it. Going back to her room feels impossible now and it feels silly. Rufus and Jiya surely wouldn't mind sharing a room so why are they still keeping to this boy-girl arrangement? And why haven't she and Wyatt admitted to being a couple? After the raid, it has to be obvious.

It's those thoughts that have her rolling to face him and being surprised to find him already awake. He smiles softly at her as his fond gaze traces every curve of her face.

"Morning," he greets in a low sleepy voice.

"Morning," she replies. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes. Not long," he assures her.

As she takes in his smile and his kind eyes, she remembers a discussion they meant to have the day before.

"Wyatt?"

"Lucy?"

She rolls her eyes at the teasing way he's mocking her and continues, "Before the jump yesterday we were talking about something."

He nods and she feels his arm tighten around her. "I remember."

"You wanted to start telling people?" She asks curiously.

"Still do," he assures her.

She brings a hand up and runs it down the side of his face while she searches his eyes for insight. "Why now?"

"Because I want more of this," he answers easily as he leans forward and captures her lips with his. "Mornings like this." Another kiss. "Nights like last night." He dips his head and his lips land on her shoulder. He kisses a short trail up to the hinge of her jaw. "Just more of you."

She smiles contentedly as he lifts his head to meet her eyes and then gives him reluctant glance. "If you want more of this then does that mean...you want to share a room?"

"That was my end goal in telling people about us, yes," he answers with an amused smirk. "Is that okay with you? Is that what you want?" The amusement on his face transforms into doubt.

Before he can doubt any longer she pulls his lips down to hers for a lingering kiss, sucking his bottom lip between hers as she pulls away. "It's what I want," she assures him. "It's definitely what I want."

"Good," he says with a sigh of relief. "We can talk to Rufus and Jiya today."

"And Christopher?" She asks.

"I'm pretty sure she already knows," Wyatt said with a bitter chuckle. "She didn't say it outright yesterday, but she implied she knew. We can talk to her today too."

"We're actually doing this? The whole sharing space thing?"

He nods and then rolls on top of her with a smirk. He leans most of his weight on his arms as he settles himself in between her legs. She borrowed a shirt, a pair of boxers, and socks from him the night before. There is not a trace of makeup on her face and her hair is that early morning kind of tousled that he's come to like best.

"Maybe then you'll stop stealing my clothes," he teases as he nudges her nose with his.

She laughs and shakes her head at him. "Keep dreaming, soldier."

She looks so enticing when she laughs that he can't stop himself from allowing his hands to dive into her hair. He pulls her lips down to his for an intrusive kiss. Her mouth opens to his almost immediately. She's as eager for this as he is. Her arms go around him with her palms flat against his back and her legs entrap him by the waist.

Just as he's thinking he'll get to start this morning right, the Bunker alarm sounds. He groans in frustration as the kiss stops. Lucy's head drops back on the pillows and his forehead touches her chin as they both breathe heavily.

"Time to get to work," Lucy tells him with an irritated sigh. "You'll have to brief me on it before we leave. I have to do the walk of shame."

He laughs loudly at her phrasing and sends a half smile her way. "Are you saying that walking from my room to your room in my clothes is the equivalent of a walk of shame?"

"It is when we haven't told everyone we're dating...or living together? Neither one of those labels sound right to me."

He kisses her one last time before he peels himself away from her and starts to get dressed. "Go, I'll cover for you. Though, I don't think anyone will buy it."

They don't. No one says it, but they all know why Lucy is the last to arrive.

The date is thrown at her as she rushes toward them in high waisted jeans and a brown top. She looks good in anything but he finds himself wishing she were still in his clothes. They load into the Lifeboat with Flynn, much to Wyatt's displeasure, and head off to 1919 where they think they'll be saving President Wilson. Only as it turns out they're actually there to save Alice Paul from wrongful imprisonment and get her out of jail in time to give a speech that gets women the right to vote.

It's an issue that is understandably close to Lucy's heart and she's on edge the minute she finds out Alice was arrested. He hesitantly agrees to split up. With Rufus and Flynn going after the sleeper and he and Lucy trying to free Alice Paul. He's snappy with Flynn, he'll admit. There's a moment where a policeman refers to Lucy as Flynn's wife and Wyatt's fists clench so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Combine that with the pleasant smiles he saw last night and the way Flynn occasionally looks at Lucy and, yes, Wyatt let's his jealousy show. Maybe a little too much. He has no real reason for it. Which is why Lucy keeps glaring at him every time he throws a zinger at the ex-time terrorist.

"You know," she mutters as they walk toward the police station. "You might want to go a little easier on Flynn. At least until this mission is over. We need to focus and work together."

She's right, but the childish side of him scoffs and shakes his head. "Sure. I guess. Whatever."

They receive no help at the police station, but Lucy quickly redirects them to Grace Humiston. It's disconcerting when Grace sizes them both up with one glance. He's jealous and not only are they seeing each other in secret but Lucy has a secret she's holding close to the chest. The secret Lucy's keeping, he knows, is to do with her time in Rittenhouse's clutches. They set her straight that they're not here with a romantic dispute and then convince her to see Alice. He can tell Lucy is thrown off by Grace, and that the woman isn't quite what she always imagined her to be.

When Grace leaves them alone to question a detective, Wyatt brings it up. Next thing he knows, they're arguing over Grace's declaration about Wyatt being jealous.

"You realize, you have nothing to be jealous of, don't you? I'm with you."

"Lucy, it's not you I'm worried about, it's him. The look in his eyes when they find you...it's intense. I don't like it. I've questioned why he would help us from the beginning, you know that, and the more I see him with you the more I know."

"Know what?" She asks with a huff.

"He's here for you."

"So what if he is? And I am not saying he is. But if what you think is true then so what? Do you think that I'm just going to fall at his feet because he wants me? I make my own decisions, Wyatt. Neither you or Flynn make those for me. I choose."

He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration before he shakes his head at her. "I am not saying that. You've been awfully chummy with him lately and I'm just—All I'm saying is that you need to be careful."

"Of what? He hasn't done anything."

"He hasn't done anything yet. He's still the same man that spent the better part of last year trying to kill us."

"So, let me get this straight, you're mad that I've been nice to Flynn? Is that the gist of it?"

He rolls his eyes and sighs. "You've simplified it a little too much, don't you think?"

"You mean because what I said made it sound like you're being ridiculous?"

"Well...yeah."

She responds by fixing him with a very pointed glare before turning her back on him. He huffs and does the same to her. It's clear they're not going to be able to sort this out now. Grace then leads them back to the hotel where they find the bellhop that was the source of the tip about Alice Paul. They both watch in awe as Grace draws evidence and a confession to tampering with the case out him.

The next moment is when the stakes climb even higher. They go back to the cell to talk to Alice and find her dead. All arguments about Flynn seem unimportant in the face of Lucy's grief. She's just watched a hero fall before her own eyes. They come to the conclusion that whoever killed Senator Wadsworth also killed Alice and Grace drags them down to see Alice's fellow suffragettes. Lucy's working like hell to get them to march and it's not working. He has to help. He has to try. So, he gives them a speech he's given several times before and they agree to silent vigil. Lucy isn't completely satisfied and she takes that out on Grace.

Maybe it's needed. Maybe she's right. But what it leads to is his worst nightmare.

"Maybe…"

"What?"

He winces as she snaps at one of the other women. She is definitely angrier than he's ever seen her before. But what comes next tenses every muscle in his body and floods his brain with fear and panic.

"Maybe you could give the speech."

"Oh. You know what? Maybe I will."

She storms out of the building leaving him to chase after her. She promised him no cowboy stuff. She said she would be careful. This was not being careful. He catches up to her outside. And tries to reason with her. She knows that the sleeper wants to stop the speech. She knows that it won't matter who it is. The sleeper will kill them no matter what. This is exactly the kind of risks she promised him she wouldn't take. He reaches for her arm and forces her to face him as gently as he can. They have to talk about this.

"You've already got a target on your back, remember? We agreed that you wouldn't take any unnecessary risk—"

"This is a necessary risk, Wyatt. Someone has to do something now."

"Why does it have to be you?"

"If not me then who?" She all but screams at him. "This cause is worth the risk. It's my decision and my choice."

"It's my job to protect you. I'm not going to let you get hurt," he says with quiet determination. She's stubborn but so is he and he will not lose her. "I'm not going to lose you."

"How many times are you going to say that?" She asks him in frustration. "I've told you before. I'm not some princess you can keep locked up in a tower. You can't shut me off from the world and keep me all to yourself. That's your problem with Flynn, isn't it? You're afraid you'll lose me to him?"

He glances down at the sidewalk with a guilt ridden face. He hadn't quite put that together but the minute she says it, he knows it's true.

"There are causes and choices that are worth risking your life for, Wyatt. Alice's speech is one of them. This fight with Rittenhouse has always been one of them. And you. You're one of them. But I won't let you lock me away like my mother did. I won't let you keep me from the people and battles that I care about." She's yelling now and her eyes are the most violent shade of brown he's ever seen them. It's clear to him that he's fucked up. "If that's your idea of protecting me then I'm sorry, but you might end up losing me anyway."

His heart drops to his stomach at those words and he's certain it shows on his face. He sees a moment of sadness flash across hers before she juts her chin out with a look of determination and declares, "I have a speech to deliver."

As he follows after her, he realizes...he is the biggest idiot in all of time and space. He watches from a distance as she joins the march and nearly has a panic when he loses her after Flynn and Rufus approach him. Emma is out there looking for the sleeper while Wyatt stays on the sidelines. He hates it, but there's not much he can do. He keeps his eyes peeled for Lucy, trusting that he'll find her again. He does and he fights back the urge to grab her and run after she tells him Emma shot the sleeper and saved her life. This mission isn't done yet.

Lucy darts back into the crowd as soon as President Wilson arrives and he rushes to get ahead of her. If she's determined to do this then she's not doing it alone. He clears her path, punching anyone that stands in her way. He stands back as she forces her way forward and tries to get the President's attention. She doesn't. Instead, Grace does. Once Grace starts speaking he fights the mob to get to Lucy. She's going to need his help to get out.

"She did it!" Lucy cries when he reaches her with a mix of relief and joy.

The truth is, without Lucy, Grace wouldn't have done it at all. She's incredible and she needs to believe that as much as he does. He's been an ass to her since the mission started. He can protect her without sheltering her and he needs to learn the difference.

So his "I think you did it" is as sincere as he can make it. Because without his historian there to scold Grace Humiston they would have come back to an entirely different present.

As they wrap things up in 1919 the tension between them slowly fades but it's rapidly replaced by awkwardness. Just that morning they were ready dive into something new and he's worried that he's ruined it. There are things he needs to say and apologies he needs to make, but even after he does there's no guarantee that things between them will be the same. When they get back, they separate to shower and change. When he's done he looks for her. He finds her in the common area. He finds her sitting on one of the end tables by the couch with her back to the entrance. On the opposite side table sits an open laptop. As he starts to pass it, he sees Grace's picture and decides to stop and read.

He can't see Lucy's face as he reads but nothing he reads about Grace is bad. In fact, Grace goes on to do amazing things. But the fact that Lucy hasn't turned around to face him is worrisome. When she finally speaks, his heart aches. Once again, Lucy is faced with the burden of remembering someone who's ceased to exist. He tries to reassure her that he'll remember her too but the minute his hands touch her shoulders she steps away.

"We have to talk about today," she says as she takes a steadying breath. "What...what was that, Wyatt? We were fine when we left but the minute Flynn stepped into the Lifeboat with us it was like a switch was flipped."

"It's not an excuse, okay?" He says before he explains. "But I've lost everyone that's ever mattered to me. Everyone. And you—Jesus, Lucy—you mean the most of any of them. So I'm...I'm running scared. I'm terrified that you're going to be ripped away from me. Whether that's by Rittenhouse or—or—"

"Or Flynn?" She finishes for him.

He runs a hand through his hair and then shakes his head. "It's stupid. I know. If you wanted to be with him then you would be. But I have a hard time accepting the fact that I might get to be a part of your life in any kind of real way. It's happening, right now, but every time we make progress a part of me panics. The closer I get the more likely it is that this will all end."

"It's not stupid," she assures him. "We've both been through some truly terrifying things. This job is dangerous. I would be concerned if you weren't worried about losing me. I worry about losing you too. But I have never once asked you not to do your job."

"I want you to do your job, Lucy. I want more than anything for you to do your job," he promises.

"Didn't seem like it today."

"Yeah, well, today I was being an ass."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Just today, really?"

He chuckles and then shakes his head. "No, not just today."

"I understand that it's your job to protect me and I'm grateful to have you, Wyatt. Really I am. But I'm here to fight Rittenhouse too. Same as you. Same as Rufus. So why were you being so overbearing with me on this jump? Why not also be that way with Rufus?" She asks gently. Her tone sounds genuinely curious and her voice is soft. It's almost soothing.

Words from France in 1918 rumble around in his brain until he lets out a knowing chuckle and replies, "Because I'm not in love with Rufus. I'm in love with you."

Her mouth drops and her jaw starts doing that opening and closing movement it does when she's surprised. She crosses the room to him until she's standing nearly on top of him. She brings her hand to his cheek and caresses softly. "You...you what?"

She genuinely seems shocked and he wonders how that's possible. He's been more transparent than he's willing to admit, but then Lucy's always thought lesser of herself than she deserved.

"I love you," he says confidently. Her hand drops from his face and he takes it in his own. "I love you for exactly the person you are. The person who's willing to stand up and say when something is wrong, who will risk her life for a cause she believes in, and who doesn't even see how truly amazing she is."

She averts her eyes from his and modestly deflects, just as he expected her too. "I'm no Alice Paul, so…."

He tenderly grips her chin and brings her eyes back to his. "You're Lucy Preston, and that's pretty damn good."

Her eyes water and a slow joyful smile stretches across her face. "I love you too. You're stubborn and reckless and mildly annoying sometimes," she says with a chuckle. "But you're so good and honorable and you spend most of your time thinking don't deserve to be happy, but you do, Wyatt. You give so much of yourself to the people you care about and I just…" she stops to blink back emotional tears and then takes a deep fortifying breath. "God, I just love you is all."

It hits him like a ton of bricks as she speaks the words. She loves him. She actually loves him.

Almost as soon her last word crosses her lips, his mouth descends upon hers. There's no other way to express his happiness. He hasn't felt quite like this in a very long time. All that exists in this moment is the two of them and the three little words they now share. He doesn't remember that they're in the common area, he doesn't remember that they share living space with four and sometimes five other people. There is only Lucy.

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her body tightly against his and she returns the favor by coiling her arms around his neck. He traces along her bottom lip with his tongue, asking for entrance, and she gives in without any hesitation. He's teasing and tasting and nipping. She lets out a wanton whimper into his mouth that leaves him wanting to do unspeakable things to her until a throat clears from somewhere behind them.

They both freeze with their lips still sealed together and then slowly pull apart.

Her eyes remain closed as she speaks, a look of mortification over taking her delicate features. "That sounded like…"

"So, how long has this been going on?" Denise asks sternly.

"Yep, that's who I thought it was," Lucy says with nervous grimace.

They turn to face Agent Christopher. Lucy looks guilty and he tries to follow her lead, but he just can't. He loves Lucy, and she loves him. That's an established truth of the world now. Nothing Christopher says can change that.

So, his goofy grin stays put as he answers her. "Uh, since Hollywood."

"Really? That was two weeks ago, wasn't it?" Mason asks as he appears from behind Denise. He smirks at her and holds out an expectant hand to her. "I believe you owe me twenty dollars, Agent Christopher. Two weeks was my bet. Yours was three, I believe."

Christopher sighs and pulls a twenty out of her back pocket. She glares teasingly at Lucy and Wyatt as she places the bill in Mason's hand. "The two of you couldn't have gotten together a week sooner? Would that have been too much to ask?"

His eyebrows raise and he turns to see Lucy staring at Mason and Christopher in confusion.

"You...you had a bet?" She asks.

"It was obvious you two were dancing around each other for some time and then suddenly the dancing stopped. The only possible conclusion is that one of you finally admitted to what we've all known all along. Mason and I just weren't sure when that happened," Denise clarifies. "Thank you for clearing that up for us."

"You're welcome?" It comes out as a question because he's truly thrown off by this. Just yesterday Christopher was lecturing him about letting his feelings for Lucy cloud his judgement and now she's...cheering them on?

She must understand Wyatt's confusion because she continues. "I don't want this to effect the missions and if it does we will have words in the future. But I can't think of two other people in this world who deserve happiness more than the two of you. If you've found that in each other then I hope you hold onto it. Finding a partner you can fight and make up with, isn't easy."

Funny she mentions that as that's just what they were doing.

"Thank you, Agent Christopher," Wyatt says as he grabs Lucy's hand and laces their fingers together.

Lucy nods her thanks as well and then gives Mason a questioning glance. "Have you seen Rufus and Jiya?"

"Yes, I believe they're tending to Rufus' wounds in the bathroom," he tells them.

"Great! Thank you," Lucy says with a bright smile as she turns a secretive look on Wyatt. "We have something we need to talk to them about. Excuse us."

Without another word Lucy pulls him down the hall.

"Even after everything that happened today," Wyatt asks worriedly. "You still want to move in?"

"Of course I do," she replies as she graces him with a sunny smile. "We're going to fight, Wyatt. That's a given. It's how we make up that matters. Just don't be an overbearing ass anymore and we're golden."

He lets out a short burst of laughter and nods. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask."

They settle in to what was once Wyatt and Rufus's room while Jiya and Rufus take the girls room. The beds are pushed together, the side tables become his and hers nightstands and the desk is traded for a round table and two chairs. Without asking Wyatt, Lucy picks out a throw pillow and a rug and asks Denise to pick it up for her. Luckily, he doesn't mind.

"As long as you don't paint the room pastel pink, I'm good, Luce," he says after she nervously brings it up before bed.

It's an adjustment. She knew it would be. His things are more orderly than hers. Not that she's messy, but there's a certain element of madness in her method. It comes from having a shoebox of an office at Stanford and no real room for storage. Her things are placed where ever it's convenient. But Wyatt has military precision in how his shoes are placed, how his towels are folded, what order his beat up Ian Fleming paperbacks are stacked.

Nearly every morning she catches him remaking the bed after she's already done so. He flashes her a sheepish apologetic smile and shrugs. "It's the corners, Professor. I can't stand your corners. I'm sorry."

She laughs it off and rolls her eyes. She's not offended, merely amused.

The only time she ever gets annoyed with him is when he picks her research materials up from the table and puts them away with her books. What he thinks is tidying up is really putting her delicate system in complete disarray. She has to start all over. She's huffy and irritated the rest of the day, but he brings her tea and makes her take a break to eat so she can't really find it in her heart to be mad at him.

It's nice having their own space. It's a bubble of safety that allows them to talk about their past struggles and their friends and their secrets. There are some secrets she's not ready to talk about yet, maybe never will be, but she manages to tell her fair share once their bedside lamps are out for the night and his arms are around her.

They talk about Rufus and how he's been sulking and distancing himself from all of them, including Jiya. They wonder what sort of secret those two are keeping because she and Wyatt can both tell they're sharing a burden. It's one that's causing friction between them. They discuss what it could be. They discuss Jiya's visions. Any and every concern that crosses between them is brought to light.

It takes them all of a week to become each other's confidants and she wonders what they'll be in another week or two. What roles are left? He already owns her heart and offers her a safe place to rest. What else is there?

She's pondering this question as she and Wyatt are side by side in the kitchen managing different aspects of breakfast. She's handling the tea and the toast, both relatively easy, and he's handling everything else.

"No, sorry, ma'am, not letting you cook the eggs. I'll probably end up crunching on egg shells," he says as he gets out the necessary ingredients.

She rolls her eyes at him but ducks her head out of guilty agreement. He's right. She knows he's right.

Suddenly, Rufus comes storming across the kitchen, grabs a cup and slams it down on one of the tables. He stares at Lucy as she places the kettle on the stove and suddenly she's had enough. Rufus has been sulking all week. If he has a problem then it's time for them to help him. So she asks. She doesn't like the answer.

Jiya had a vision of him dying, surrounded by cowboys. He wants all of them to prepare for a day he won't be there. Lucy and Wyatt exchange glances that clearly state how determined they are to not let that happen. There is no way that their friend dies on their watch.

The bunker alarm sounds and the date is read aloud. The day Reagan was shot. It's obvious where they need to go once they arrive. Due to it being a more recent jump, Jiya elects to go with them.

"It'll be like a double date," Jiya says with a smirk as she attempts to lighten Rufus's mood. "Lyatt and Riya take on the eighties!"

But he merely grumbles in response and brushes past all of them to reach the Lifeboat. Jiya's face falls and Lucy places a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all climb in to the ship. She has this foreboding sense that they're about to walk into something very stressful. She hopes she's wrong but she doubts she will be.

The mission goes a bit off the rails. Turns out they're not here for Reagan. They're here for a young Denise. It makes sense once they figure it out, but it makes everything they do now very delicate. They're faced with a decision when the two halves of their problem go in opposite directions.

Wyatt can go after the sleeper, but someone still needs to stay with Denise and make sure the attempted assassin is caught. There are also other reasons to go after the sleeper. Information he's wanted since Rittenhouse became more than just a half whispered name. If he can corner this sleeper then he has a chance to find out what else they have planned for Lucy, how many more sleepers are there, and what is the point of all of this? What is their endgame? He's also certain that the tactics this type of interrogation would require are not tactics Lucy or Jiya or even Rufus would like to witness.

So, he fights his need to keep Lucy in his sight at all times, and sends the team off on their own to find Denise. Only Rufus decides to go with him. Wyatt is pretty sure he only does it to avoid Jiya, but he could use the back up.

Subduing the sleeper takes some time and so does finding an adequate place to question him. But before long he's rolling up his sleeves and getting to work trying to crack this guy. Rufus is understandably hesitant about some of Wyatt's methods. He's a civilian. It will be hard for him to understand. But Wyatt pushes forward. The sleeper can't tell him about any of the other sleepers. They never tell the parts the story of the whole. It's smart and not unusual for planting a sleeper. He does tell him how it works. It's as Wyatt suspects. Rittenhouse blackmails, bribes, and brainwashes their way through recruiting. It gives him official insight into what Lucy must have gone through. She had accidentally given him a few hints here and there but now he knows for certain.

They attempted programming. There are several tactics that can be used for this. She's mentioned isolation more than once. She's mentioned thinking she was all alone and the only member of their team that remained. He imagined that was one way they attempted to break her. For being her mother, Carol Preston certainly didn't know Lucy that well. Lucy won't be broken. Lucy is resolute in her beliefs. That resolve and determination is likely what saved her life for those six weeks.

Beyond that, he doesn't have much to say. He has no idea what the plans are for Lucy Preston, other than the rather vague order of "shoot to kill." Those words next to Lucy's name send a chill down Wyatt's spine, even if he's supposed to be the hardened soldier. Wyatt is about to try and force more information out of him. He can tell there's still something that he's holding back. He's not sure what.

"Stop! Stop! There might be one thing!"

His fist halts mid air and he releases the sleeper to let him slump weakly.

"Tell me," Wyatt orders.

"In your file, there was a section about your wife—"

"You'd better tread lightly—"

"Rittenhouse thinks they know who killed her."

Just like that the world stops. He'd heard that line before. Flynn used it against him not that long ago and all it lead to was the pointless death of a civilian and a crying Lucy sitting on her mother's steps. But still, one tease of something real and everything hushes.

"Who?" Wyatt asks through gritted teeth.

"G-Garcia Flynn," the sleeper stutters out. "They think it was Garcia Flynn. They can't prove it. He has an alibi but they believe it enough to list it in your dossier."

"Wyatt," Rufus says in a wary tone. He steps closer and places a hand on his shoulder. "We've been down this road before, remember? It was all a lie. How do you know any of this is the truth? He just said Rittenhouse can't prove it and that Flynn has an alibi. It sounds like bullshit to me."

Wyatt discreetly brushes Rufus's hand off of his shoulder with a shrug and nods. What Rufus is saying is logical. It makes sense, but some part of Wyatt can feel in his gut that it's the truth. He's not even sure why.

"And if that isn't enough, I'll tell you where you to find my brother! He's here! He's out there looking for Denise Christopher as we speak."

But Rufus and Wyatt turn glares on him. Wyatt rams the man against the pillar, with his arm pressing into his chest. "And you didn't think to mention this before?"

Now there was no time to try and get more information about Flynn. They had to save Denise, Lucy, and Jiya first. It's a race against time that they barely win but it gives their prisoner all the time he needs. When they arrive back where they left him, he's managed hang himself. It's only then that Wyatt allows himself to feel any pity for this man. They blackmailed him and brainwashed his brother. Neither really ever had a choice and now they're both dead.

Even operatives of Rittenhouse became victims of Rittenhouse in the end.

They're on their way back to the Lifeboat when Rufus nudges his arm.

"That stuff about Flynn," Rufus says hesitantly. "Don't let it get in your head, man. There's no proof. There's no way for him to have been in two places at once. It can't be possible."

"We work with time travel, Rufus," Wyatt says grimly. "Anything is possible."

His friend looks as though he wants to protest, but knows as well as Wyatt does that he can't. But Wyatt is also aware that seeding doubt in the bunker would be useful to Rittenhouse. It would distract them and keep them fighting each other instead of the enemy. So, he makes no assumptions. Not unless he can get more information from a trustworthy source. A trustworthy source like Denise Christopher and who knows if she'll be there waiting on them when they get back.

They did it. The first person to greet them when they land is Denise Christopher, mostly the same as she was when they left. Lucy is immensely relieved to see her but regretful that she put as much pressure on her as she did. Knowing your future would seem to Lucy to be a terrible burden. She's surprised when Denise tells her the opposite. That it gave her hope. And that starts her thinking.

She dismissed Flynn when he wanted to talk about the Journal in San Antonio, and the few times he's tried since, but maybe it's not such a bad idea. She doesn't want to know too much but maybe if she can know one thing — just one thing — she'll feel some sort of relief. Because right now she has concerns and if it wasn't for Wyatt she doubts she'd be sleeping at all. Her parents, her legacy, the pure enormity of Rittenhouse's reach, the uncertainty of her future…

It all presses on her chest to the point of suffocation. Her claustrophobia seems ever present now as if the entire world is closing in around her. Could knowing something of her future settle her mind? Later, that question has her seeking out Flynn in his room demanding to know how he got the journal. Where did it come from? What exactly happened when it was placed in his hands? She tries not to believe him when he reveals that it was her and that some distant future version of herself found him in a bar in Brazil. But his eyes are honest and his tone is eager. Eager for her to believe him, to trust him. She has many reasons not to…

But she finds herself trusting his word, anyway. Even if it makes absolutely zero sense.

"The rest, I suppose, you'll have to wait and see what happens," Flynn tells her as his eyes search hers. She thinks he's looking for any sign that she believes him and wonders if he's found it. "We both will."

She leaves his room nowhere near as soothed as she hoped she would be. She walks into the room she shares with Wyatt and finds him putting away his shower kit. She sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the spines of her book collection lined up on one of her shelves. Her life is starting to feel like some twisted version of a Dickensian classic. Past, present, and future all colliding at once. Crushing her from all sides. Her vision goes blurry around the edges and then warring images of water rushing in a car window and solid concrete walls flash through her mind. The sound cuts out and she can't pinpoint which scene is reality any longer.

The sinking car, the tiny windowless cell she can't escape, or the underground tin can she shuffles around in like a ghost. No option is open and free. And all at once…

She can't breathe.

Her hands claw at her chest, trying to free herself of whatever restraint is keeping her trapped or rip her chest open to let in some air. She isn't sure which. Somewhere in the recesses of her consciousness her brain registers Wyatt calling her name, but it never really reaches her ears. Even if it had, she wouldn't have been able to focus on it.

The pictures in her mind are on a disturbing loop. Water. Concrete. Metal. Water. Concrete. Metal. Water. Concrete. Steel. No, that wasn't right. The last image wasn't steel. It was steel blue.

Eyes. Wyatt. Freedom. She's feeling lightheaded and all her muscles have tensed but she forces the cycle back to him and each time his eyes stay a little longer and her breathing gets a little deeper until the water and the concrete fade.

Wyatt's crouched in front of her, his hands clutching her thighs, pointedly holding her gaze and breathing slowly. Now that she's present again she can see how fearful he actually is.

"Lucy?" He asks softly.

She feels several drops of water hit the fabric of her shirt and realizes she's crying. Her cheeks are soaking wet. She takes a deep shuddering breath and meets Wyatt's eyes, the ones that brought her home, a split second before throwing herself into him. Possibly sobbing through his name as she does. His arms are waiting for her like they always are. As he catches her, he slides to the floor and then back toward wall. They sit with his back against the wall and her curled in his lap for several minutes.

"What happened, Luce? Where did you go?" He asks as he places a kiss to the top of her head.

"We're never going to finish this fight," she says in a disheartened flat tone. "I suspected that would be the case but I just had it confirmed. I—I thought knowing the future might be hopeful. Turns out it's just hopeless. No matter which way I turn I'm trapped."

"No, you're not," he assures her firmly. "It's all up to us. We decide."

She shakes her head at him and sniffs before wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Five years from now I go back to 2014 and give Flynn the Journal. Which means five years from now we're still fighting Rittenhouse."

"You can't know that."

"Flynn knows that, Wyatt. He says that I placed the journal in his hands. I told him my name and I knew how his family died and I gave him the journal and told him he could stop Rittenhouse."

She feels Wyatt stiffen and when he speaks his tone is colder. "You talked to Flynn about the journal?"

"I barely sleep. I can't eat. I am in a constant state of panic. I—I thought it might help," she admits sheepishly. "It didn't."

As quick as he tensed, he relaxes and rests his forehead against her temple. "The journal won't fix that, Lucy. You know what will."

He means Rittenhouse. He means those six weeks she thought he was dead. "I'm not sure it will."

"You never answered my question," he says softly.

"What question?" She asks as she feigns ignorance.

"Where did you go?" He repeats. "You weren't here with me. You were somewhere else."

She closes her eyes and curls further into him. "Water. Concrete. Metal," she says. She waits for the panic to seize her but it never comes. She credits the security he offers her for keeping the panic at bay.

There's a quiet moment and she can practically hear Wyatt thinking. "Water. The accident?"

She nods. "Metal is the bunker."

She feels the moment he pieces it together. His arms tighten around her and his lips land on her cheek before he speaks. "The concrete was Rittenhouse?" His tone is quiet, almost reverent in the light of what she's just revealed.

He waits, patiently, for her to elaborate. He doesn't seem like a patient man on the outside, but she knows he is. To love her, he must be.

"They kept me in a tiny concrete cell with no windows, not even in the door," she confesses as she breathes in and out slowly. "Eventually, they moved me to a suite under the strict supervision of my mother. But that took time. They wanted to know they had broken me first. They—they knew I was claustrophobic because she told them I was. She used my fear against me, Wyatt. My mother used my fear against me."

There's more she's not ready to talk about yet, but the cell was by far the worst. Both because of the confinement and her mother's betrayal.

"How did you get through it?" He asks. His voice is a mix of concern and amazement. She doesn't know if she really deserves either.

She can feel the admiration in his gaze and she wishes he would stop. She did nothing extraordinary. She just wanted to live long enough to take Rittenhouse down with her. To make sure Wyatt and Rufus hadn't died in vain. "I got through it because I had something else to fight for." She gives him a meaningful glance, knowing he'll understand her meaning.

He does and his expression tells her exactly how that makes him feel. She sees that he is honored and grateful, but there's also a layer of regret. She's not sure why she spots regret in his eyes. She certainly doesn't blame him for anything regarding Rittenhouse. She has a brief thought that maybe the regret is new. Maybe something else has happened that he hasn't told her about, but then she dismisses it. They've been working things out together lately, surely he'd tell her if something was bothering him.

She reaches a hand up and caresses the side of his face. "I was fighting to make sure everything we accomplished in that Lifeboat meant something. I thought you were gone but I sure as hell wasn't going to lose you both and let Rittenhouse win. I was going to make you proud and finish what we started no matter what. That's what got me through it."

A hand finds it's way to the back of her neck and she feels him massaging the tense muscles there before he's suddenly kissing her with languid intent. Open and slow and as if time made no difference. She feels so much being communicated to her and she can somehow read every bit of it. Does she really know him that well that she can taste his emotions on his tongue? Apparently so. She tastes that regret she saw on his face earlier along with an almost worshipful gratitude. She knows he doesn't seem to believe in fate but she almost thinks he's thanking some higher power for bringing her back to him. It's what she feels in these kisses at least. When the kisses finally end, he rests his forehead against her while awed eyes study her face.

"You're...impressive, Lucy Preston. Don't let anyone ever convince you that you are anything less than that. You are stronger than you think you are," he assures her before giving her the lightest whisper of a kiss.

"If you keep telling me that maybe someday I'll believe it," she replies with weak grin.

"That's the plan," he says with a light chuckle.

"Rufus said you guys interrogated the sleeper?" She asks in an attempt to change the subject. She didn't want to think about those six weeks anymore than she had to. He nods in response but doesn't elaborate so she has to ask a follow up question. "Did you learn anything?"

"The sleepers aren't told the overall plan, but I inferred that a while ago. Their methods of recruitment are all cruel, but you probably knew that already. And every sleeper that's activated is being given a 'shoot to kill' order when it comes to you," he says as he systematic lists off each point.

That last point visibly rattles him. She sees haunted sadness in his eyes and decides that's enough of that. She presses her lips to his for a lingering kiss that serves to remind him she's still there. With him. When she pulls back his face is serious and thoughtful. He looks as though he wants to say something else, but he doesn't.

"So, all information we already had?" She asks, hoping to prod him into saying whatever it is he's conflicted about.

He shakes himself discreetly like he's shaking the thought away and his trepidation vanishes. But she saw it on his face. She knows there's something he's not telling her.

"Wyatt?" She asks again when he still hasn't verbally replied.

"Sorry, right, yeah. All information we already had," he repeats. "Basically a bust."

She does her best to hide her shock. He's never been able to hide from her, even when he wanted to. He's keeping a secret from her just when she thought all of that was finally over. Yes, she still had things to tell him about Rittenhouse but she is trying. Little by little it is pouring out of her. She's choosing to be vulnerable with him. What can he know that won't allow him to return the favor?

But instead of confronting him, she merely sighs and nods. "That's too bad."

"We'll find a lead somewhere else," he says confidently. "Maybe Mason will actually find something in the pile of high tech confetti Denise brought home. He hasn't yet but that doesn't mean he won't eventually, right?"

"Right," she agrees before moving to stand. Curling up with him while he lies to her seems unappealing all of a sudden.

"Where are you going?" He asks in concern.

She motions to her tear stained face and then the time on the clock by the bed. "It's getting late and I should really wash my face. You know, get ready for bed."

His brow furrows as he checks his watch. "It's nine o'clock. You never go to bed this early."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm a little extra tired. It's been a long day," she tells him as she grabs her toiletries bag and darts from the room before he can question her further.

She doesn't want to confront him. She wants him to be willing to come to her. And it hurts that he's shutting her out of whatever it is he's struggling with. She needs a minute alone to figure out how she wants to respond. Though, honestly, what can she do? Either he wants to tell her or he doesn't. The real question is, can she get passed the idea of never knowing?

He's done something wrong without even realizing it. That's the only explanation for Lucy's behavior this past week. She isn't exactly avoiding him, but she isn't exactly seeking him out either. When they're together it's like she's somewhere else and when they're not he thinks he feels her watching him. He's not quite sure how to ask what's wrong. But he knows there's something. She's gotten into the habit of going to bed before him and waking up before him, though honestly he's not even sure she's sleeping. There are bags under eyes that she tries to conceal but they never really go away. So that leads him to believe she's pretending to sleep when he comes to the room and finds her rolled over to her side of the bed with her back to him.

This will be the seventh morning in a row that he's woken up to find her side of the bed empty. He knows where she is before his feet hit the floor.

She's in the kitchen, talking to Flynn. That's been a hard pill to swallow to. She's been slowly becoming friendly with him since that San Antonio mission he was held back from and he's never been crazy about that, but it's worse now that he has that sleeper's words in the back of his mind.

Denise has people looking into it and he has no idea what they'll find but until then...watching the woman that holds his future buddy up with the man who may have killed his past is the worst kind of torture he's ever experienced. Aside from those six weeks Lucy was missing, that is.

He's growing increasingly more frustrated each morning he wakes up to this new routine. He needs to just ask her what's wrong. He needs to get it out in the open so he can fix it.

He also needs to tell her about Flynn. But he feels like he can't. He's acted like a jealous ass over Flynn in the past. What if she doesn't believe him? What if she thinks he's lying to her to damage her new fragile friendship with Garcia Flynn? He's convinced she'll assume the worst of him so he's keeping it to himself until he has definitive proof. And if it turns out the sleeper was lying then no one's the wiser and Flynn's name remains no more tarnished than it already is. The man has enough murders hanging on his head without adding one he may not have actually done. Even if Wyatt dislikes him, he knows that.

Lucy gets up from her table as he enters the kitchen and he's certain he gives her a startled look. How much longer does she plan on giving him the cold shoulder without letting him know what he's done wrong? No, that's it. He's decided seven days is long enough. He turns on his heel and follows her back down the hall. He jogs ahead of her and then stops in the middle of her path.

She nearly collides into him but stops herself with a huff. "What the hell, Wyatt?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he says as he gives her a frustrated glare. "It's been a whole week of this. You pretending to go to bed, then getting up early to avoid me, spending all of breakfast talking to Flynn, and never once being in the same room as me if you don't have to. What happened, Lucy? What did I do?"

Her face softens for a moment and then hardens again as she opens her mouth to reply, but she stops abruptly when the deafening sound of the alarm fills the Bunker.

"We're not done talking about this," he tells her over the alarm.

She nods but says nothing as they turn and head toward the main silo. There would have to be a mission now while he and Lucy are...whatever they are.

There's a quiet moment where they're alone while Rufus and Flynn are changing. She's hanging the dress she didn't use on a clothing line while Wyatt studies the map of the area. He hears Lucy take a long and deep breath and he knows something is coming.

She turns to him and he looks up expectantly as she finally speaks.

"I've been as honest with you as I can be," she tells him with a soft voice and wounded eyes. "The more ready I am to deal with things then the more I open up to you. If I didn't trust you then I wouldn't do that. You...you know that, right?"

Her expression is making his chest ache and he has no idea why. His brow furrows at her in confusion. "Of course I know that, Luce. I would never push you to tell me anything you don't want to. I trust you'll tell me when you're ready."

He stands from his spot and approaches her. She suddenly finds the clothing on the line much more interesting than him.

"What about you? Do you...do you tell me things when you're ready to or are you ever ready to tell me and just don't?" She asks as her eyes stay focused on the patterned dress in front of her.

"Are we...is this about why you're mad at me?" He asks. He is genuinely lost while trying to figure out where this conversation is headed. She's talking about secrets or lies. Admitting the truth.

"I'm not mad at you, Wyatt."

He scoffs and quirks a brow at her. "You're not? Because for someone who's not mad at me, you sure haven't wanted to be around me lately."

"I'm not mad, I'm disappointed," she clarifies.

There's that ache in his chest again, a mild stabbing pain. She turns toward him and finally meets his eyes and the sadness in them makes him want to look away. But he won't. He's done something to deserve this. He's sure he has.

"Why?" Wyatt asks eagerly. "Tell me and I can do something. I can fix it or...I don't know just something."

"You lied to me," she admits. "I asked you what you learned from the sleeper and you left something out. It was written all across your face, Wyatt. You lied to me. Here I thought we were building something, that we were learning to rely on each other, or that you wanted to share your struggles with me but obviously I assumed too much. So, I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed and taking a step back. Because if we're not building towards what I thought we were—"

He cuts her off because he can't let her finish that sentence. If he wants his heart to remain in his own chest she cannot finish that sentence. "We are, Lucy. We are doing all of those things. I love you and I'm here, with you. You're the person I want to figure all of this out with. That is the truth."

"Then what aren't you telling me, Wyatt?" She asks him with a forlorn sigh.

The sleeper. She knows he left something out when he talked about the sleeper. That means he's back to his struggle over Flynn. If he tells her will she want to figure it out together like she's claiming? Or will she see his past mistakes and assume the worst of him? Does he take the risk?

Before he can decide, Flynn and Rufus are walking up to them. He definitely can tell her around Flynn. It's about Flynn and if it's true then he can't let Flynn have any warning.

He shakes his head sadly at the interruption and hopes that she'll believe him when he says, "Later. I promise I will tell you later."

They walk on to find the 2nd South Carolina and they do, but they find them slaughtered. They also run into Harriet Tubman and end up at her safe house where she's making plans to carry on with the raid and tending to the wounded. Wyatt and Rufus get to work trying to find out if any knows anything useful. When Wyatt comes back to the safe house with a young witness who can help them, he finds Lucy and Flynn chatting quietly.

He doesn't want to be angry at her for becoming so friendly with Flynn. She doesn't know what he knows. She knows the man that's been staying in the Bunker with them for the last several weeks and the man who has, he has to admit, come in handy on more than one mission. But the sight of her and Flynn chatting amiably ratchets up his resentment and anxiety another few notches. He pushes those feelings aside and shares the intel they've just learned which leads to more hurried planning and making a deal with Harriet to find their Rittenhouse sleeper.

But that's not good enough for Lucy. She wants to ride off with Flynn for reinforcements while he and Rufus try to stall Harriet and find the sleeper. He hates this idea with a passion. Not that they don't need back up, they do. But the idea of sending Lucy into Confederate territory alone with the man who may have murdered Jessica…

It's nearly enough to send him into a blind rage.

"Lucy," he says through gritted teeth. "Don't do this."

"We need the troops," she says with an irritated sigh. "Wyatt, I know you're not Flynn's biggest fan but he won't let anything happen to me. He's had our back on several occasions by now. It's just a few hours and we'll be back before the raid." She pauses and then looks at him thoughtfully. "Or is this about Rittenhouse? Are we back to you holding me back because you're worried—"

"This isn't about Rittenhouse," he assures her.

"So, then it is about Flynn?" She asks with a bored glance. "I thought we talked about this?"

"I'm not jealous," he tells her confidently. "This isn't that."

Her frustration falters and her intuitive brown eyes meet his. They narrow perceptively before she asks, "Wyatt, did the sleeper tell you something about Flynn?"

Wyatt stares at her in shock. He wasn't prepared for her to figure it out so quickly. He should have been. She's a genius and she knows him too damn well. But he wasn't and he doesn't know how to reply until he's taken a prolonged moment of silence.

"I can't be sure it's true," he admits. "But yes."

"Lucy," Flynn calls as he approaches the open door. "The horses are ready."

His moment to tell her is over, but this time she seems to understand. Her eyes are soft and meet Wyatt's pleadingly. "We need the reinforcements and Harriet actually likes you. I think this is the only option we have."

She's right, dammit, and he hates that.

He walks her over to the horses and, even though he's pretty sure she doesn't need it by now, she lets him help her onto the horses. He gives a glare and a warning to Flynn. He tells him about Confederate territory and Flynn dismisses him as if it's not life and death. Wyatt feels his jaw tighten and and his fists clench, but Lucy's hand on his as she accepts the reins from him brings him as close to clear headed as he can be, given their situation.

"Just...be careful," he tells her as he slides his eyes over to Flynn pointedly.

She nods and squeezes his hand. "You too."

He steps back and lets her go, but it feels like his entire future goes with her.

Things spiral out of control as they always do. He and Rufus corner the sleeper and chase him out of the plantation mansion. Harriet Tubman guns him down first, taking care of Rittenhouse for them. The raid is a success after Lucy and Flynn manage to bring the back up they need. He never doubted her ability to convince anyone to fight. He never doubted her. He did, however, doubt the man who went with her. But he was true to his word this time and he got Lucy back safe.

They head home, exhausted, and for some reason Wyatt subconsciously reaches across and fastens Lucy's seatbelt. He hasn't in several jumps. She knows how and he hasn't needed to, but after she's avoided him all week it seems he's craving contact more than he realizes. She places her hands on top of his as they adjust the straps and meets his gaze with a weary smile.

"I missed you, by the way, I—I know I was the one who was...but I missed you," she stammers out with tearful eyes.

He gives her seatbelt a playful tug and grins warmly at her. "I missed you too, Professor. If you want to talk when we get back then I'll tell you everything you want to know."

She nods and releases his hands so he can settle into his seat and ready himself for take off. They're going to clear the air. He'll make sure of it. He doesn't want her to doubt his trust in her or his willingness to build a life with her ever again. He hopes she believes him. He wants her to believe him. But even if she doesn't, she deserves to know.

Now that she knows some of what the sleeper told Wyatt, everything falls into place and she feels nothing but remorse. It was about Flynn. He had been jealous of Flynn before and they'd fought over it. Plus, he knew that she was befriending him. Of course he would be hesitant to tell her after that. And then she—

God, she has spent most of the week palling around with Flynn. She, of course, knew it might make Wyatt jealous, but that wasn't her intent. She had questions for Flynn. About the Journal and about her future self and he was also surprisingly supportive when she vented about Wyatt keeping secrets. Though, she was beginning to understand Wyatt's concerns about the way Flynn looks at her. There were a few moments this week where she began to feel like she was leading him on. Which is ridiculous because there is nothing flirtatious or romantic about her conversations with Flynn. There is no interest there. Only curiosity. Curiosity about how a man who was once so seemingly good could become so seemingly ambiguous. Not good, not bad, just whatever serves him best at the time.

But while her intentions were not to taunt Wyatt, she worries that's exactly what she's done. She's hurt him unnecessarily.

The idea of avoiding him was completely stupid to begin with. The nature of Wyatt's job meant he would have secrets. Yes, for now they were on the same mission, but someday they would go back to their normal lives and he wouldn't be able to tell her everything. This was no different than that, really.

The more she thinks about it the more she finds herself proud of him, actually. He is not the same Wyatt who heard a name from Flynn and then stole the Lifeboat not even twenty four hours later. Not the same Wyatt who couldn't consider he was wrong like the Wyatt she knew in 1960s Vegas. Not the same Wyatt who shot Flynn while he tried to use her as a human shield. This Wyatt had grown and evolved and valued her opinions and feelings.

Yes, he should have told her, but the fact that he stepped back and analyzed the situation and thought out the consequences of his actions was almost enough to erase his mistake. And more than enough to make her feel ashamed for not taking the time to do the same.

She showers and changes clothes before she steps a single foot in her and Wyatt's room. If she's going to hear what he has to say and ultimately beg for his forgiveness then she wants to be comfortable. Comfortable means one of his shirts, a borrowed pair of his boxers, and thick cozy socks. Her wild wet waves resting on her shoulders leave her feeling refreshed and free and ready to face her mistakes.

She finds Wyatt, showered and changed as well, sitting on the edge of their bed. He looks up when she enters and smiles fondly at her as she closes the door.

"No blow drying this time?" He asks as he crosses the room to her and wraps one of her wet curls around his finger.

"It would have taken too long," she answers. "I wanted to get back to you. I can suffer the curls if it means coming back to you a little sooner."

It's the truth. She hurt herself as well as him with the week she spent avoiding him.

"For the record," he says as he releases her hair. "I like the curls. I wish you'd wear them more."

"Then maybe I will," she states with a decisive nod. "For you."

The mood shifts and his face takes on a somber expression. His arms snake around her waist and pull her to him but his eyes never leave her face. "I love you," he tells her. "I trust you with every single piece of me, Lucy. I want to build a life, a partnership, with you. You were right. I did keep something from you and I shouldn't have done that. But I wasn't sure if it was true and I didn't know how you'd take it. That's no excuse but that's how I justified to myself. I thought I was saving you pain until I knew if it was true. I didn't want to fight and I thought for sure we would." He chuckles quietly and then shakes his head. "But I guess we did that anyway, didn't we?"

"I get it, Wyatt, and before you tell me what it is...don't. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. The same way you don't expect me to tell you everything about Rittenhouse. Knowing it's about Flynn is enough to understand. If you want to wait for evidence then I understand and I can wait too," she tells him as she reaches up and frames his face with her hands. "I should never have avoided you. I should have told you what I knew and how it made me feel but I...I thought if you really trusted me that you would come to me willingly. I let the fact that you didn't upset me so much that it blinded me to everything else."

"Lucy, are you sure? If you want to know I can tell you…"

"No, Wyatt. I trust you. I trust that you'll tell me when it's right. I should have trusted you all along and I'm ashamed that I didn't. I hurt you and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve the cold shoulder I gave you. I've regretted it all week but I was too proud to admit it to myself once I started," she says, her tone dripping with mortification as she drops her head to his shoulder and hides it there.

He laughs lightly and then places a kiss to her hair. "Stubborn woman," he mutters as he presses his cheek to the spot that he kissed. The sound of his laugh and his teasing warms her heart and eases some of her guilt. "Not that I'm much better. I should have confronted you sooner."

"We're both at fault at least a little," she says as she lifts her head to find his eyes again. "What's important is that we learn from it."

"Already have," he promises her. "You're going to know everything I'm allowed to tell you from now on."

"That's a big promise, Soldier," she says with a chuckle. "You sure you don't want to start a little smaller?"

"No way," he declares brightly with a genuine wide smile. "I'm going all in. If you want to know then all you have to do is ask. Unless it's classified and we'd both end up arrested if I told you. Then I probably won't be able to answer. But really in that case, I'm just looking out for you. I'm not sure you would survive prison." His smile turns crooked and one eyebrow lifts upward. Daring her to disagree.

"Please, I'd thrive. I'd work in the prison library and smuggle contraband in and out through books. I'm good at that. I have a system I created to hide unapproved sugar from my mother," she tells him with a proud smile. "I'd be everyone's favorite person. You, on the other hand, would make enemies left and right. You're very confrontational with people you don't like, and I'd imagine there would be a lot of people you don't like in prison."

He laughs loudly and shrugs. "That's sadly true. I wouldn't stand a chance locked up with a bunch of criminals."

"That's okay, I'd make some under the table deals to keep your ass shiv free," she promises with a wink. "Don't worry. I'd protect you."

"My hero," he states with a smirk as he pulls her tighter against him. "So, I take it that your willingness to go to prison for me means we're okay?"

"We're okay," she assures him. "We had a fight, we talked it out, and now we're back to normal. Easy as that."

"Seven days without you is by definition not easy," he tells her as he idly traces his hands up and down her back. "Especially when you're right next to me and I can't seem to reach you."

"I know," she says quietly as she presses her forehead to his. "For me too. I won't do it again. Next time something bothers me, I'll tell you. Okay?"

"You'd better," he insists. "Because I'm in this for the long haul and I plan to be fighting and making up for the foreseeable future."

"The foreseeable future?" She asks hopefully.

"I want as many days as you can possibly give me, Preston."

She bumps her nose with his and ghosts a kiss over his lips as she replies, "In that case, how about I give you all of them?"

He responds by capturing her lips with his and sealing the deal with a kiss. This is it. No matter what happens on any given jump through time, this is it. This is their future. Together. It won't be easy, they know. They're going to fight and disagree. They'll be many more miscommunications. They'll get through all them. Hopefully, the next fight won't be as a clumsily handled, but even if it is...they'll make it.

They weren't brought together to be undone so easily. She knows that now more than ever. The timeline may change but her love for Wyatt Logan never will.

She knows it but he seems determined to demonstrate it. The kiss deepens as one of his hands finds her neck. His thumb caresses her cheek while his other hand works its way under her t-shirt. He starts to walk them back toward the bed and, before her back hits the thin mattress, their clothes are peeled off and discarded haphazardly across the room. His hands are everywhere and he's clearly on a mission. She's more than willing to let him prove himself in whatever way he wants for however long he wants. Which turns out to be a very long time. Not that she's complaining.

It's late when they're both finally sated and panting and cuddling into each other in glowing exhaustion.

His lips are on her neck trailing open mouthed kisses across her collarbone as she lets out a near delirious laugh and runs her hands over his naked back. "God, I love the way we make up."

He grins against her skin before rising to meet her eyes with a playful wink. "Next time, let's skip the fighting and go straight to the making up."

"Solid plan," she tells him with a sultry smirk. "I'm all for it."

The next morning he wakes up with his arms around a naked Lucy Preston. To say it's his favorite way to wake up would be an understatement. He's quick to indulge in the taste of her skin and the feel of her softness pressed against him. After the last week of haunting distance this is heaven. She turns in his arms and manages a sleepy smile and a half lidded amber gaze. Her curls are a mess that he knows she'll hate when she sees a mirror but he loves them. They're wild, natural, and free. Everything the woman in his arms deserves a chance to be.

"G'morning," she mumbles through her usual morning fog.

Lucy Preston is many things, but a morning person is not one of them.

"Good morning," he says as he feels an amused smile overtake his face. "Sleep well?"

"Not really, no," she says with a lazy grin. "Some guy kept me up until the wee small hours of the morning."

"That guys sounds like a jerk."

"Mhm, he is. He's the worst."

"Would someone who's the worst offer to make you pancakes?"

She still isn't eating like she should be and offering to make her favorite foods is his way of bribing her to eat.

She hums happily and wraps her arms around his neck in a slow careless stretch. "Morning after pancakes? Sounds too good to be true. What's the catch? Do I have to be awake while you cook them? Are you going to ruin them with blueberries or some other healthy nonsense?"

His quiet laugh fills the air between them and causes her eyes to open a little wider. "No, no blueberries or any other healthy nonsense and I am completely willing to bring breakfast to you."

"What? Whoa," She says as she squeezes her arms around him. "Breakfast in bed? No one's ever made me breakfast in bed before."

"I guess there's a first time for everything then," he tells her as he places a kiss to her lips and then grins against her mouth before pulling away. "You deserved it long before now."

He prise himself away from her, even as she tries to tug him back in.

"No, now I'm cold. I don't want pancakes that badly," she whines. "Get back in here."

"Too late," he says as he shies away from her and dresses quickly. "I'm already dressed."

"Ugh, fine, I'm coming with you," she says with a pout as she rolls out of bed. "At the very least I can wrap myself around while you make breakfast."

He chuckles as he pulls on a shirt. "Yeah, that won't make it more difficult to cook at all."

She throws on leggings, a tank top, and a huge stretched out cardigan and then slides her feet into her slippers. Once she's dressed, she immediately latches onto him with her arms around his middle. "Now we can go."

"I'm glad to have your permission, Professor," he says through a laugh as he places his arms around her in return.

They walk down the hall, openly wrapped up in each other, and when they reach the kitchen she follows through with her threat and loops her arms around him from behind. "See?" She says as she rests her cheek against his back. "Not difficult."

He rolls his eyes half heartedly, but never stops smiling. "Let's see if it stays that way."

Several minutes later, after they've had their fill of pancakes and bacon, a bleak looking Agent Christopher approaches them. She's holding a very official looking file in one tight fist and looking more hesitant than they have ever seen her. At first, Wyatt is afraid it's about Flynn. She's been looking into it for him and promised to let him know the minute she found anything.

But when Christopher's sorrowful gaze falls on Lucy, he knows it has nothing to do with Flynn or Jessica.

"You're here early," Lucy says as her bright smile from just a moment ago dims considerably.

Christopher nods soberly. "I received a call early this morning about a crime scene an hour north of here. Normally, a local crime scene wouldn't capture my attention but this one…it involved Rittenhouse."

Denise is setting Lucy up for a devastating blow and Wyatt slides her chair closer to his in preparation. The bottom will drop and he'll be there to catch her when it does.

"Lucy," Denise says as she sits down across from them. "The police were called to a barn after they'd heard reports of gunfire. When they entered they found several bodies that had suffered fatal bullet wounds. One of them was Nicholas Keynes." Christopher pauses and takes a shaky breath before meeting Lucy's eyes again. "And one of them was Carol Preston."

Lucy's eyes immediately begin to water and her mouth drops open. Her breathing becomes erratic as she tries to fight off her tears. "Was there any sign of Emma?"

Denise shakes her head. "No, she got away."

"Of course she did," Lucy mutters darkly.

"She'll get hers, Luce," Wyatt promises her as he wraps an arm around her and pulls her into his side. "We'll see to it."

Lucy presses a hand to her lips as her face begins to crumple. "I can't…" she shakes her head at them and then stands abruptly. "I can't be here right now."

She takes off toward their room and Wyatt exchanges a concerned glance with Denise before he chases after her. By the time he arrives she's lying on their bed with her knees curled to her chest and her face hidden in the pillows. He closes the door behind him and then crawls into bed next to her. She doesn't fight him when he tugs her into his arms and cradles her against him. She adjusts instinctually by straightening her legs and burying her crying face into his shoulder. Her arms go around his chest and her hands grip the back of his shirt in tight fists.

She doesn't talk. She doesn't need to. Her relationship with her mother was tenuous at best, but she was still her mother. He tried to whisper words of comfort as he held her. He doubted any of them made it through the tears. So, after a while, he replaced words with kisses. Little soft kisses, every where he could manage. Her sniffling and crying decreased with each one.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," Lucy whispers in a voice that is thick with tears. "The last time I saw her was in Salem."

For the life of him, he has no idea how to respond to that. He has no words to make it better. Nothing to soften the blow. So, he chooses to stay silent. Lucy doesn't really need him to speak anyway. She needs him to listen, to hold her, to simply be there. They stay like that for the remainder of the day and it's only broken for Lucy to tell a story or two of happier times with her mother.

He brings her lunch to the room and they sit at the table in the corner while they eat. She's quiet and heartbroken and the only thing he can do is wait. Waiting goes against every fiber of his being. But he'll do it for her. He'll sit in the silence and be present with her instead of out there doing some sort of pointless task. Because she needs him and, more vitally, he needs her.

"Wyatt?" She asks in so feeble a voice that he barely hears her.

"Yes, ma'am?" He asks.

"How do you say goodbye to someone you never really knew?" Her bottom lip quivers as she sucks in a breath and he instantly reaches across the table for her.

He squeezes her hand and then brings it to his lips. "You say goodbye to the person you thought they were and you make peace with the person they actually were."

"Your dad...is he—did he pass?" She asks hesitantly.

He nods but doesn't speak.

"After all the awful things you went through, was it still hard to face it?"

His old man was a bastard. Violent and drunk. The day he died was the day Wyatt lost any hope of ever having a real relationship with the man.

"Yes, it was hard," he answers honestly. "But it wasn't about him. It was about permanently losing the possibility of ever having an actual father. Some part of me hoped, ridiculous as it was, that one day he would turn it all around. Then he died and with him so did that dream. It hurt. It hurt like hell."

Her eyes found his with a look of compassion so deep he couldn't find the bottom of it. He had hit the nail on the head. With her mother's death, she lost the hope of ever getting back the mother she'd grown up with. For the rest of her life she would remember the woman who tried to kill her instead of the woman who taught her a love of history.

"It gets easier," he promises her. "Eventually, you'll heal. If I can manage it then I know you can. You're stronger than me."

She leaves her chair and heads toward his. She sits in his lap and then cups the side of his face with her hand. "Thank you," she tells him. "For being here."

"This is the only place I ever want to be, Lucy. I'm here for you for as long as you need."

Its as if fate senses they need the distraction or a place to channel their sadness because just as she settles against him for another round of tears, the alarm alerting them to a jump pierces the eerie silence.

"We don't have to go," he tells her. "The others can handle it."

"No, we're going. We're not those people who abandon a fight just because it's hard. Not us. Not Lucy and Wyatt," she answers as she sits up and fixes him with a determined stare.

"No," he agrees. "We're not."

"So, lets go do what we always do," she says as she pushes off of him and stands.

She extends her hand expectantly when he looks up at her. He memorizes her in this moment. This is a defining moment and a shining example of Lucy's strength. She looks like the personification of resilience with her tear stained cheeks and troublemaking grin. Sometimes, she's so astonishing that he hardly believes she's real.

"And what do we always do?" He asks as he places his hand in hers.

"Kick ass and save the world."

He chuckles and nods as she yanks him out the door and down the hall. She brushes off Denise's offer to give her more time and then plants herself in front of Mason.

"Where and when?" She asks with a defiant jut of her chin.

She will not be beaten. She will not give up.

Good god, does he ever love her.

"January 28, 1848. Near Sacramento."

And away they go on another whirlwind adventure. Together. Always together.