Chapter Text
Loss.
It had been a theme of the last two years. Before all of this started, even - her father had died, her mother was sick, and she didn’t know if she and Amy could handle much more.
If only she’d known then.
She’d lost Amy, but gotten her mother back in exchange; it hurt like hell to lose her best friend but at least with her mother back it hadn’t been a net zero. Except it had turned out to be a deeper loss than she ever could have imagined; while her mother wasn’t dead, she subscribed to ideology so twisted that Lucy couldn’t even wrap her brain around it. Worse, she chose it over her daughters, both of them - over Lucy’s happiness and over Amy’s very existence. And she’d died in the end anyways, somehow leaving an even bigger hole than if the cancer had just taken her in the first place, than if she'd died in her original reality.
And she’d lost her father - how could you lose someone you’d already lost once before? But she’d gone from having a dead father to finding out that he wasn’t her father at all - and further, that he’d been wiped from history. Cahill wasn’t a gain, she couldn't even count it as an exchange there, it was just loss compounding loss.
Her mother, her father, her sister - all gone.
And then there was her bunker family. A gain, she supposed, in its own right; Mason and Agent Christopher like her parents, Jiya and Rufus her siblings, and Flynn - well, whatever the hell he was. And then there was Wyatt, her... she didn’t even know. She was far too tired, exhausted, weary, to even begin to figure it out.
He’d been a gain, maybe the only straight up net gain in this whole mess, but thanks to time travel, she’d lost him too. He’d had a gain of his own, until it wasn’t - or maybe it sort of was - she really wasn’t sure, she couldn’t even begin to think about that right now. Even his admission of love felt more like a blow than anything; after what he’d put her through with Jessica, and he had the gall to say he loved her?
And losing Rufus, she couldn’t even begin to handle - she’d never had a brother (sure, technically speaking she’d never had a sister either, but she’d really never had a brother) but she was confident he was the brother she’d never had. He was the third member of their team, and whatever weirdness was going on between her and Wyatt, she could count on him to be there, steady and steadfast, ready with a smile or a shoulder or a listening ear. And now he was gone and for what? Another loss that she’d never get over.
Even their successful missions had often been shrouded in loss; the loss of innocence, the loss of morals, the loss of the historical figures she'd come to regard as heroes.
She wasn't sure she could take much more. And yet, it just kept coming.
And so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that when the second Lifeboat whirred in and the future versions of herself and Wyatt stepped out - because what was her life?! - she couldn’t quite muster any faith that this wouldn’t rip something else away from her. What, she didn’t know - she didn’t have much left - but it felt all too optimistic for her not to be suspicious. And so, she wasn’t too shocked when the bomb dropped.
“You guys wanna get Rufus back or what?”
She stared at them, slack-jawed, present-day Wyatt by her side. Future her, war-torn and world-wise, and future Wyatt, who looked like he hadn’t seen a razor for the better part of a month. They stood in the hatch of the Lifeboat - the future Lifeboat, to be exact - and held their pose, the six present-day bunker occupants staring at them in shock.
But the moment was broken when a tiny, cherubic face poked around the side of his legs -
“Can I see them, Daddy?”
Future Wyatt deflated, visibly, as he looked down at the curly-haired tot standing to his left. “Hey, we talked about this, remember? You were supposed to wait inside until we told you to come out - you ruined our entrance, man!”
“Sorry,” she said with a giggle.
He hoisted her onto his hip - an impressive feat while standing in the hatch, no matter her opinion on anything else - while her future self looked on, amused. Lucy watched as the trio moved down off the rings with ease, a move clearly practiced a million times.
Because why wouldn’t the impossible, overwhelming glimmer of hope that was their future self selves arriving be compounded with the depth of loss of having Wyatt’s kid show up with them.
So, she did the only logical thing she could do in that moment: she fled. Down the hall to Jiya’s room - it had once been hers, too, and she wasn’t sure where else to go.
As she fled, she heard Wyatt’s voice drift down the hall - future Wyatt, she presumed - as he told the room at large, “Well, we really botched that one.”
And because she’d fled, she missed the affectionate hand her future self placed on the back of his shoulder, the quick ruffle of the child’s hair, the peck she placed on the top of her unruly brown curls. All she knew is that she’d been sobbing in Rufus’s bed, fighting back bile, for less than a minute when the cropped hair version of herself sunk down on the floor next to the cot and spoke.
“It’s hard to imagine having anything left to lose, isn’t it.”
Lucy lifted her head to look at this woman, surprised by the uncanniness of hearing her own thoughts voiced aloud. Her alternate self continued.
“I remember this day - this moment - with astonishing clarity. It’s been over five years, but I still remember every piece of sitting against that wall and—”. She shook her head. “Feels absolutely absurd in the midst of everything, doesn’t it. How could an admission that big manage to feel like another loss?”
“I don't know,” Lucy whispered hoarsely, almost afraid to speak in the presence of her-but-not-her, like doing so might short-circuit the universe.
“Because you don’t trust it,” her future self said, turning to look at her. “It feels empty, hollow. Like a mockery of everything you ever wanted, what? Six weeks ago? Eight? Hard to know, time in this bunker is pretty messed up.”
“Or seventy years,” Lucy admitted quietly, and her future self sent her a soft smile - the same gentle, affectionate smile she’d shown looking on to Wyatt and his kid.
“Or seventy years,” she echoed. There was silence for a moment, and then she continued on. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll stop feeling like a loss eventually. It’s—”. She stopped, hesitated, as if she was afraid she’d say too much. “Showing up then wasn’t random. We didn’t want to disrupt what happens next, but well - it was really the best time to get started.”
Lucy furrowed her brow.
“Reversing the trend. Shifting some things from the loss column over to the gains.” She paused and thought before continuing. “We can’t fix everything, but there’s a few things that... well, we felt like we had to try.”
“Rufus.”
Future Lucy nodded curtly. “Yeah. And you need to c’mon… we can’t get started without you.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Why do you need us for this anyways? What can two—” she glanced her doppelgänger up and down - “nonidentical copies of us do that future-us can't do alone?”
Her future self gazed into the corner of the room before responding. “It's better if you come on out - let us explain it to everyone at the same time.”
“Why can't you just—”
Future Lucy darkened a shade. “I don't want to have to explain it twice.”
Lucy knew herself well enough to read between the lines. She could push her future self to explain, now, here, in the relative comfort and seclusion of the bedroom. Or she could suck it up and save her future self the apparent pain of having to tell her story twice over. Either way was hurtful to her, it was just whether her present or future self felt the hurt.
Having apparently learned nothing from the mess that came of taking the high road with Wyatt, she nodded.
Her future self motioned for her to come on, and she pried herself up off of the cot. Giving a half-hearted scrub to her red-rimmed eyes, she winced as her hand brushed over her cheek. If this future version of herself allowed her to take out Emma, to fix everything - she was pretty sure she'd get on board with anything she had to say.
They arrived into the common space to find everyone loosely draped about the room - Mason and Agent Christopher on chairs dragged in from the kitchen, Flynn standing in the corner with his arms crossed, Jiya sitting on one of the awful chairs they'd replaced the even more awful couches with a few weeks back. Future Wyatt sat at one end of the sorry excuse for a couch, his kid tucked into his side, looking like she had lots of things to say but had been coached into silence. Her Wyatt stood, too, off to the side of the other chair - but his posture betrayed something other than Flynn’s standoffish inquisition. No, instead he stared at the kid, with barely hidden wide-eyed wonder, a million questions sitting behind a thin dam of propriety. Not that she could blame him. She would have reacted much the same if her own kid had shown up out of the blue.
Guess Jessica had been telling the truth after all.
Her future self took a perch on the couch, a carefully measured distance from the father-daughter pair, gesturing Lucy to the remaining chair. As she sat, Lucy tried to discern if the distance was a genuine professional distance, or if it was far less authentic - an intentional effort to obfuscate any relationships between the trio. She couldn't help but hope it was the latter, as she cast a poorly-concealed sideways glance at present-day Wyatt - she didn't think she could bear to live with this strain in their relationship for the next five years.
Her reverie was broken when Agent Christopher spoke. “I'm afraid I'll need to apologize for all of us. We’ve had a rotten day—”
“We know,” her future self replied. Christopher moved to speak, but future Lucy continued on. “We really questioned whether this was the right time to show up, but—” She looked to Wyatt’s future counterpart, as if searching for the best words to accurately describe their rationale.
“We felt like it was the best,” he said, finishing her sentence. “We’re sorry to do this to everyone, but right now is our best chance to get Rufus back.”
Future Lucy nodded curtly, as if in agreement.
“So why… this grand plan to get Rufus back… why do you need us?”
“And how can you be in the same place as yourselves,” Jiya asked, not yet having lost the shell-shocked look they all shared when the future Lifeboat arrived.
“Let’s hold on the technical stuff,” Lucy said. “For now, just trust us that it's possible.”
From his spot on the wall, Flynn lifted a hand to command attention. “We’ve always known it's not impossible, Lucy, haven't we. I told you, you brought me your journal. It should have been impossible.”
“Well it's not,” Future Lucy said, shooting a scowl in Flynn’s direction. “Can we get on with this? We don't have much time.”
“Of course,” Agent Christopher replied, silencing the room at large with a look.
Future Lucy spoke. “We think we have a way to get Rufus back. It'll take a few jumps, set the pieces in place.”
Future Wyatt continued. “We’ve already done a lot, laid a lot of the groundwork. But—”
Her Wyatt interrupted him. “I don't get it. Why do you need us? Why now?”
The future version gave him half of a smile - the kind that says there's a funny joke, but no one else in the room is getting it. Then he tilted his head towards the little girl curled into his side. “Because of her. You've been on these missions, you know how dangerous and chaotic they are. Can you imagine trying to do it with a four year old in tow?”
“I'm four and a half, Daddy.”
Future Wyatt rolled his eyes, the small smile on his lips betraying any true annoyance. “All right, a four and a half year old.”
“So why don't you just leave her with me?” Agent Christopher asked, puzzled.
Future Wyatt shook his head. “She goes.”
“You really don't think it would be safer if—”
“She goes,” he repeated, an edge to his voice that left the room pin-drop silent.
The future versions of Wyatt and herself locked gaze for a minute, having some sort of conversation that made her decidedly uncomfortable. Part of her discomfort stemmed from feeling as if she was intruding on a private moment, but most of it - if she were brutally honest with herself - came from their connection, that haunting pang of what could have been.
Finally her future counterpart spoke. “We can't leave her. Not after the Brooklyn incident.” Her voice was muted, she sounded absolutely haunted - and Lucy knew without question this is what she hadn't wanted to explain twice.
Looking up and seeing six sets of puzzled eyes locked on her, her future self continued. “It was - a couple of years ago now, I guess. Her third birthday. Until then we’d always left her behind, she’d be well taken care of, and it was just too risky to take her along. But she'd been begging, and it was a quick, easy mission - hop back to the 20s, make sure Henry Wallace’s grandparents meet at a picnic. Emma’d gone back and pulled a fuse from his grandmother’s car, but we knew from the list of jumps that she was only there a couple of hours in the middle of the night. She'd be long gone before we got there. All we needed to do was get her a new fuse, maybe go to the picnic - it was Brooklyn, it was spring, and for a three year old who had spent her whole life in an underground bunker, it was an amazing birthday.” She took a deep breath before she continued, the gravity of whatever was coming next clearly weighing on her. “And it was an amazing day - one of the best in a long, long time, if I’m being honest. But when we got back—”
She trailed off, closing her eyes, and Lucy was pretty sure she was fighting back tears. Finally she glanced over at Future Wyatt - the expression one she knew well, pleading for him to take it where she couldn't.
He didn't disappoint. “Everyone was gone. Everything was gone. We landed in an empty patch of grass where the bunker should have been. We’re not even sure what we… we think maybe we messed up something with someone involved in defense, messed up their parents meeting or something, so the bunker was never built.”
Agent Christopher squinted at them. “Why didn’t you look for us somewhere else? If it hadn’t been the bunker, it would’ve been—”
“We did,” Future Lucy interrupted. “And we found you, all of you. Individually.”
Agent Christopher drew back. “What?”
“I don’t know - we don’t know what we did, but you were all scattered. Everyone is okay, you’ve still got your family, everything stuck that we did with Flynn, Jiya’s got a great job, Mason’s still got the company… maybe there’s another time travel program that we don’t know about… I don’t know.”
Wyatt shrugged. “All we knew is that we left, and when we returned six hours later - everything was gone.”
“And,” Future Lucy interjected, her haunted tone returning, “If it hadn’t been Rosie’s birthday, if we hadn’t taken her along…”
Christopher finished the thought for her. “She would have been gone, too.”
Future Lucy hung her head. “It already happened with Amy. I can’t - it can’t happen again.”
There was silence for a few moments as the group digested the story before Future Wyatt began again. “So she goes with us. Every jump. Every time. And we just… we make it work. But to fix everything, to really fix everything, we’ve gotta go into some situations that aren’t safe for her. Which puts us back to our original problem - how to fix all of this with a four-year-old in tow.”
“I can’t imagine how that could possibly work,” Present Day Wyatt replied to his future self.
The future versions of Lucy and Wyatt exchanged another glance. “The best we can figure is that we need somebody to stay back at the Lifeboat with her, keep her out of the crossfire. It’s not like it can be one of us - no one should go into those missions solo.”
Future Lucy nodded in agreement. “And it’s not like you can just put out an ad for a time-traveling babysitter. Plus, we don’t exactly trust a lot of people with her.”
The lightbulb went off in Lucy’s head. “But who can you trust more than yourselves.”
Her future self’s face lit up. “Exactly.”
“Wait, wait,” Wyatt said, sounding offended. “You came back from the future to get us so that we can play glorified babysitters?”
“No, not - not exactly. Not at all, really. We figured between the four of us—”
Lucy interjected again. “One can stay with her and the other three can go on missions.”
“Right, exactly.”
Lucy looked at Wyatt - the one from her own timeline - and raised an eyebrow, “you in?” the unspoken question.
He looked back at his future counterpart. “You said you have a way to save Rufus?”
Future Lucy swallowed. “We think so.”
“Then we’re in.”
They probably should have asked more questions. In fact, they almost definitely should have asked more questions. After that session, the only thing she was sure of - other than the few tidbits their future selves had shared - was that the distance between the two of them was long gone. Future Lucy may have been five years older, wiser, more war-torn - but she’d gotten no better at hiding her feelings.
Still, barely ten minutes later, after their future counterparts had freshened up and Rosie had conned Mason into a snack, she and Wyatt found themselves in the launchbay with a second pair of time travelers and an inquisitive four year old.
“Where we goin’ now?”
Future Wyatt smiled at his daughter, and Lucy tried to stuff down the whatever she felt at watching their interactions. She wasn’t even sure she could label it, and she sure as hell didn’t have time to unpack it right now. So she stuffed it down and smiled instead, as he knelt down to her level and explained to her - and them - where they were going. “We thought we’d try an easy jump first, make sure everything works okay, try to find our rhythm. We’ve got one more groundwork mission - nothing dangerous - just to make sure Henry’s parents made the move west like they were supposed to.”
“We hit a little snafu getting them together - wanted to make sure we didn’t change things too much. He needs to be in California to marry my Mom - not in Jersey where he’ll meet Irene’s granddaughter,” Future Lucy told them, as an aside.
“Wait,” Lucy asked her, “I thought we were going to get Rufus back? This sounds like Amy…”
Her future counterpart smiled. “Rufus first, Amy next. We’ve been laying groundwork for both of them for the last couple of years and - we’re close. Very close. Just… not close enough to do it alone.”
Future Wyatt stood up, turned to look at her. “Which one you want?”
“Think I'll take my chances on the original. I'm still not sure I've warmed to the changes.”
He rolled his eyes. “It's bulletproof.”
Lucy and Wyatt looked at each other, perplexed. “We can't put five people in the Lifeboat. Not our version. Can yours hold more?”
“Nah,” Future Lucy said, wrinkling her nose. “That's why we’ll take two. C’mon, Wyatt, you’re with me.”
Wyatt drew back. “You're splitting us up?”
His future counterpart shrugged. “We’ve figured out traveling to your own time and two Lifeboats in the same time, but we’re not sure about two of the same person in the same Lifeboat. So my Lucy’ll take you, and I'll take your Lucy.”
He bristled. “She's not—”
“Yeah, whatever. You forget that I am you - and I know what just happened.” Future Wyatt turned away from his counterpart, reaching instead for the hand of the tot who was apparently accompanying them on this “non-dangerous” mission. He lifted Rosie onto the rings and she scrambled into the ship before stepping up himself. “C’mon Luce,” he said, issuing an informal invitation and extending his hand. She took it, not entirely at ease but curious nonetheless about the Lifeboat’s upgrades.
On board, she took her customary seat, finding Wyatt’s former seat occupied by Rosie. She took to fastening her belts while Future Wyatt got Rosie strapped in. The tot was sitting on something - a repurposed couch cushion, maybe - but other than that, she seemed to ride just the same as everyone else always had.
“Cushion helps the belts fit right,” Future Wyatt said, as if reading her mind. And it was even creepier to have him do it than her own Wyatt, truth be told. He turned around to check on her - “You got it?” She nodded, and he continued. “I forget about that, sometimes. She usually does her own, now that Rosie’s with us. It's just easier.”
Lucy wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she didn't have much time to think about it. Rosie seemed to be sizing her up as Future Wyatt took the cockpit’s seat. “Why do you look just like my Mama?”
Lucy blanched. Rosie called her Mama? How had they ended up at a place where she and Wyatt were playing house with Jessica’s baby?
Future Wyatt didn't seem to notice as he chuckled at Rosie’s question. “We explained this before we came, Ro. She IS your Mom, just… before you.” As he turned away to set the coordinates on the panel, she swore she heard him mutter under his breath, “…sort of.”
Rosie seemed content with that answer. She locked eyes with Lucy, and it would have been unnerving had her little face not lit up like a Christmas tree when she heard the switches start to flip as the Lifeboat hummed to life. “You ready?”
Lucy stared at her incredulously. “You're not scared?”
“She loves it,” Wyatt said, his voice holding a humored disbelief. “Guess that's what you get when time travel’s in your blood.”
The rings began to spin and the Lifeboat lurched. It was absolutely uncanny to see Wyatt at the controls - even Future Wyatt - and as she watched him, a wave of grief washed over her anew. It should have been Rufus.
Meanwhile, Wyatt found himself following a future version of Lucy into the Lifeboat. Who, it seemed, was going to pilot it. When had that happened?
Somewhere in the last five years, apparently.
He settled into his seat, feeling slightly unbalanced at the sight of the empty chair across from him. It was weird enough knowing that Lucy was in another Lifeboat, with another him, weirder still that another her was piloting it. But the weirdest was when the future version of Lucy spun her chair around to face him, apparently finding this the appropriate time for a heart to heart.
“Don't we, uh, need to go?”
She shrugged. “It'll take him a minute. He's gotta get Rosie strapped in.”
Wyatt opened his mouth, ready to pounce with questions - so many questions - about the little girl their future selves had appeared with. But Future Lucy beat him to the punch, leading off with, “She loves you, you know.”
Wyatt started. “What? Lucy? She - she does?”
Future Lucy rolled her eyes. “Don't act so surprised. You know that to be true.”
He furrowed. “But I've hurt her so badly with my stupidity…”
“Yeah. You definitely have. But loving someone isn't a choice, and just because she doesn't want to doesn't mean she doesn't.” A pause and then, “She's also not in love with you, though.”
He opened his mouth to reply and felt more than heard the other Lifeboat jump. “Crap, hang on,” Future Lucy said, spinning around in her chair and flipping about a million switches. He tried to pay attention - he was apparently going to have to learn to do this someday soon - but lost track of the sequence after the first three or four. The rings began to spin and they were off - moments later thudding to a landing in whenever they were. Maybe it was just his adoration speaking, but he thought Lucy might actually be a better pilot than Rufus - the jump had felt a lot less jarring, anyways.
He unbuckled and went to hit the hatch, but Future Lucy stopped him. “Hold on for a second. What I was saying before —”
“She loves me, but she's not in love with me?”
“Yeah. You need to change it. You need to remind her why she fell in love with you, why she let herself fall. Help her remember that, let it overcome the painful sting of what loving you has become.” A pause and then, “It won't be easy, but it's important. She needs you to do it, more desperately than either of you know.” Another pause - as if considering what she can or should say - gave way to, “Just… don't break her again. You've said you love her, now you need to choose her. Every time. Nothing gets in the way. Nothing. Even if she gets pissed, even if she reminds you of the mission - nothing gets in the way.”
He nodded, and she gestured for the button.
“Oh, and Wyatt?”
He stopped, hand hovered, and turned wordlessly back to her.
“We never had this conversation.”
He nodded again, hitting the button as his automatic, “Yes ma’am,” gave way to a grin from his pilot.
Lucy was still thinking about the loss of Rufus when they landed, and even once the door opened, she wasn't so quick to shake her melancholy. It wasn't until she saw Wyatt and her future counterpart that she realized a very important fact: it had worked. They were all together, same place, same time.
Whenever this was.
“What year’d you say this was again?” Wyatt asked.
The part where he could practically read her mind was particularly useful in life or death situations, but in circumstances like this, it straight up freaked her out.
“Fifty-three,” her future self replied.
“We tried to find out from property records,” Future Wyatt added, “but they're not on any purchase deeds, so I guess they rented for quite a while. We can't find them on either coast. So we’re hoping we’ll find them here.”
Their future counterparts turned to one another. “So how do you wanna do this?” Future Lucy asked.
“You should go with them. She shouldn't have to deal with two of me right now.” A pause and then, “I'll take Ro to a park or something, let her blow some steam off. Maybe try to scrounge up some dinner.”
Future Lucy gave him a Look. “Don't do anything stupid. We’ll be back at the bunker in a couple of hours with like eight adults that will gladly feed her.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, guess so. We’ll just stick to the park then.”
Lucy and Wyatt locked wide eyes, the incredulousness of ‘are we seriously balancing a life of crime with parenting decisions here?’ hanging between them. She waited expectantly for Wyatt to make a joke to crack the tension, but none came. Instead her future counterpart bent to press a kiss to the child’s head, then looked her in the eye. “You listen to your Dad, okay Rosie? Behave yourself. This is the 50s, little girls didn't run around like ragamuffins back then.”
Rosie nodded solemnly, a sure sign that she comprehended far more than a typical preschooler should. Then she split into a grin. “But little girls got to go to the park! I'll listen, promise.”
Future Lucy ruffled her hair as she stood back up, then shot a stern look at Future Wyatt. “You behave yourself, too. I don't want to have to be bailing you guys out of anywhere.”
He laughed, reaching out to grab her hand and giving it a squeeze. “You have my word, ma’am.”
So that had persisted.
Future Lucy gave him a decisive nod - as if she was trying to sell herself that everything would be okay - before turning back to face the present-day duo. Future Wyatt and Rosie headed down over the hillside, and Lucy could hear a smattering of history factoids floating back to them on the breeze. Enough to let a little kid blend in to the 50s, she guessed.
Future Lucy nodded towards him. “Results of a hell of a lot of schooling. We were stuck in the bunker for quite a while after Rufus so… lessons for everyone. History for him, self-defense and utilitarian skills for me - lock-picking, hotwiring cars, target practice, that kind of stuff. We figured we needed to be able to be a little more self-sufficient in getting ourselves out of jams.” Then she smirked. “I still let him do most of it, though. He’s much faster.”
Wyatt smirked at Lucy. “At least I've got that going for me.”
She rolled her eyes half-heartedly; it was the best humor she'd seen out of him in days. At least she thought it was days; she hadn't slept in more hours than she could possibly remember. It had been nearly a century since they’d had a normal conversation, she supposed; 1919 may feel like just yesterday but a hell of a lot had happened since then. A hell of a lot.
Future Lucy led the walk down the hill as she and Wyatt trudged behind, keeping pace as they fell into an easy and familiar step. They could just ignore his admission, she supposed; it might be easiest in light of everything. But then she snuck a sidelong glance and him and her heart sunk as she realized there was no way it was going to be that easy. She'd known how he’d felt about her, even without the words - or she'd thought she had - but then she'd convinced herself it was just a spark that had been snuffed out with Jessica’s arrival. To hear him say it - she'd never expected it. Not after everything. And she had no idea what to do with it.
The sound of his voice broke her from her reverie. “Where are we going, anyways?”
Her future self replied. “Towards town. Just need to find a payphone, look in the phone book. Hopefully Henry’s parents will be in there. Then we visit the house, make sure it's them. If so, the only thing left to do is make sure he meets Mom at UC Berkeley, if not… we go back, start again.”
Wyatt furrowed his brow. “How will you know it's them? At the house?”
Future Lucy glanced back at him. “They're my grandparents. We used to go over there for dinner every Sunday - even after my Dad died. They doted on me & Amy. They'll be a lot younger, of course, but—”. She moved her focus to Lucy. “Remember that pic of Grammy, the one that hung above Grandpa’s favorite chair? It would have been from this time period, give or take a few years.”
Lucy smiled. “I’d forgotten about that.”
The answer seemed to pacify him and they continued their march towards town. She'd trekked through history with all kinds of people, from allies to enemies to historical figures she couldn't wrap her brain around really meeting. But walking behind herself was a singularly odd feeling. The monotony of walking finally allowed her a chance to think, to process the situation - maybe a little too much of a chance to think and process. She glanced at Wyatt, whose counterpart was at least out of sight at the moment. “That's me,” she said under her breath.
He looked down, kicked at a stray pebble. “Uh huh.”
“This is so weird.”
“Yeah. It is.” A pause and then, “Hey Luce?”
She paused, losing ground on her alternate self, who didn't seem to concerned about her companions’ lagging steps.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something - and then thought the better of it. “Never mind. This isn't the time.”
Lucy scoffed. “When has poor timing ever stopped you before?”
He cast a glance at her future counterpart, and she let out a soft “ah” in response. “We can talk later, then.”
Future Lucy cast a glance back at them, eyebrow raised. “Nothing you can say I haven't already heard.” Well, if that wasn't unnerving…
Wyatt scoffed. “Well maybe I don't want you to hear it again!”
Rolling her eyes, she turned to face forward and continued towards suburbia. They were closer now, Lucy could see, as they emerged from the foothills looking over the town. Maybe another fifteen or twenty minutes and they’d reach the neighborhood of cookie cutter houses straight ahead.
As they walked, the all-too-familiar ill-at-ease washed over the pair. Lucy’s mind drifted back, again, to their relationship - however it could be characterized. All she knew is that they'd stood in the bunker, some weeks ago, and she'd stupidly tempted fate by declaring they had nowhere to go but down. She'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth before Jessica’s text came in, as if the fates heard her challenge and rose to it in the most spectacular manner possible. As she reflected on their earlier discussion, she realized that if they were to rebuild their relationship, the opposite was true - from where they stood, there was nowhere to go but up. It was simultaneously daunting and comforting. Because although what her future counterpart said was true - after everything, she struggled to trust in the truth of Wyatt’s confession - she also knew, deep down - had known, for a very long time - that there was no bedrock more solid than that fact. Even if he'd never admitted it, even if he'd stayed with Jessica - there was a reason that his wife had had a little bit of hurt in her eye every time she looked at Lucy, why Grace Humiston had so accurately been able to read them, why they'd been able to convincingly masquerade their way through history, from a party at the Beverly House to a living room with Bonnie & Clyde. It had been ever so much tougher when she'd been taken for Flynn’s wife, had to playact for whomever they were deceiving. With Wyatt, it had always felt natural - frighteningly natural, now that she looked back on it - and though she'd played it as a role, there was so much truth in some of those interactions that it almost hurt.
And in the end, hurt is exactly what it had done. She meant what she said - he had screwed them up - but at the same time, she only held him culpable for parts of what had transpired. His goal, as long as she'd known him, was to get Jessica back - and if he'd ignored that text, it would have eaten him alive forever. They never would have had a future if it had been built on him ignoring that text. And so she couldn't fault him from going, though she sure as hell could fault him for not saying a damn word. No, she had to find out on a phone call, only to swallow her own feelings and smile when he brought her back to the bunker - greet the woman as if she hadn’t just been embarking on a relationship with her husband. It wasn't the smartest move, she could admit, but having watched him wrestle with his grief for the better part of a year and a half, it was hard to fault him for taking whatever chance was given. What she did fault him for, though, was keeping one foot on either side of the line, never completely relinquishing his hold on her heart, continuing to act as if he had any right to an opinion on her life. He'd chosen Jessica - and he should have chosen Jessica, in light of everything that had brought them to that moment - but he chose her while still refusing to let Lucy go.
And that was almost more than she could bear. She could handle him moving on, it made him happy - or it should have made him happy, given all he’d claimed - and that's all she could possibly want for him. But it had felt so monumentally unfair for him to continue to lay claim to her already-fragile heart - to keep picking at the scab of a wound that had barely even begun to close. How could it, when it encountered the source of its hurt over and over again on a constant basis?
Of course, if what was saying is that he'd loved her all along, then trying to push the boulder uphill with Jessica was doomed to fail. She should be thankful, she supposed, that Jess had made it so easy on them - defaulting to the enemy’s side - making it crystal clear to Wyatt what a dumbass he had been. And he had been an idiot, make no mistake, ignoring the red flags and putting the whole team in danger. But he had a point; if it had been Amy, after all this time, if she'd gotten Amy back and gotten another chance - she would have overlooked just about anything.
But now that was done, laid bare for all to see, and all that was left at the bottom of the heap of rubble was the fact that he loved her. Or so he said. His actions supported the claim, his protectiveness on every mission - including and most especially the ones where Jessica was waiting on the other end - and even if she didn't trust it, deep down she knew it was true.
How had her future self navigated this? Rebuilt her trust in them, as a unit, as partners - made them strong enough that she was willing to put everything aside and mother Jessica’s child? Wondering, she quickened her pace. Leaving a puzzled Wyatt in her shadow, she caught up to her future self.
“Hey, how much am I allowed to ask you?”
Future Lucy looked at her, quirked an eyebrow. “You can ask me anything you want. I just might not be able to answer.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Who decides how much you can share?”
Her future counterpart looked at her, almost motherly, almost like she wanted to ruffle her hair as she'd watched her do to Rosie. “We do. We talked about it a lot - a lot - to figure out how much you should know, what's fair for us to keep, what would be a burden to know. We would have probably come weeks earlier - our time, not yours - if we hadn't gotten hung up on that question.”
Wyatt had caught up to them by now. “Why tell us anything?”
“There are some things that… if I’d known… might have changed some decisions. Your path won't be the same as ours - we’ve altered it already, showing up when we did, showing up at all. But some things won't change, and forewarned is forearmed, I guess.”
“Then why not tell us everything?” Lucy asked.
“Same reason,” her future counterpart replied. “You know, you change your actions. Sometimes it doesn't matter - like with Jiya’s visions, like with Rufus - but sometimes it makes a big difference. And you knowing… it could alter everything.” She paused, contemplating for a moment, before continuing. “It's why we showed up when we did. What you know, and when, makes a difference. We want to fix things, go get Rufus, bring back Amy - but living life like you already know what's around the next corner is no way to live. Ask Jiya. It's a hard burden to bear.”
“We really need to make a decision on when we’re gonna go, Luce,” Wyatt started. He’d just tucked Rosie into her “nest,” as she called it, her sleeping bag in the corner of the barn that they called home. He sunk into the corner of their “couch” - a few bales of hay covered by a blanket they'd stolen from the 1940s. “Rosie's getting older. She deserves a normal life. This is our best shot at getting her one.”
Lucy nodded, slowly, contemplating. “I think it has to be pretty much right away after we get back from 1888.”
“We’re sure we can't go much earlier, right - back after the Rittenhouse arrests, just talk you into staying at Mason, keep your mother from kidnapping you? Keep Rufus from dying in the first place?”
“No,” Lucy replied. “I need to know she's Rittenhouse. You need closure from Jessica. Besides,” she raised an eyebrow, “You really want to erase 1941?”
His eyes drifted to Rosie’s nest in the corner. “Guess not. So right after Chinatown, huh?” A beat and then, “Before or after I tell you I love you?”
She sighed. “After. She'll be a mess, but - she's gotta know. She needs to know that before we ask them to do what we need to do.” A pause and then, “But before Denise drags me out to have them look at my cheek.”
His brow furrowed. “You don't want her to—”
“No,” she answered quickly, cutting him off. “It's better that way.” Seeing his eyebrow raised, a challenge making its way to the surface, “I know you don't agree with me, but it's me, so I get to make the call on this one.”
He pushed out an annoyed sigh. “Fine.” Another pause and then, “What are we gonna tell them about her?”
“That she's yours. That she's four.”
He snorted. “That's it. That's really all you're going to tell them. You know they're going to be dying to know —”
“Everything. I know. But that's… so much.” A beat and then, “Maybe it'll change as it goes along - or maybe they'll figure everything out - but I don't think we should tell them everything. Right now, all they know is that Rufus is dead, Amy’s still gone, and Jessica came back but then betrayed all of them. Oh, and that she's carrying your kid. We start there, let them draw their own conclusions.”
He pushed out a heavy sigh. “They'll need to know about Brooklyn.”
“Yeah.” She went silent at that, stared across the barn, eyes hazy and unfocused as she looked through the Lifeboat towards some invisible point in the loft. “They'll need to know that Rosie was crazy about all of them, has missed them desperately. That she hasn't always been raised in a tin can. That we’ve been lost without them.”
He nodded, silently, pensively. And then, finally, “Do we talk to them about permanence?”
“I think we have to. Before the last jump, before we go - I think we have to.”