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Chapter Text

Lucy was tired – scratch that – she was beyond exhausted and in a lot of pain. The sharp and consistent burn along her ribcage that stole her breath and made her vision darken every time she inhaled or moved too much was really not good. It was more than not good. It was probably really bad in fact, considering she was disturbingly familiar with someone trying to slice and dice her. As she laid there on the curb of the dank and muddy street side, she tried not to think about what disgusting things she was rolling around on in this once cute outfit. Well, the blood would have ruined it anyhow.

Her main focus right now was on staying alert and stemming the blood flow of the wound even though it stung something awful every time she touched it. She couldn’t see it, but considering the fact that she was awake and feeling every ounce of pain, she thought that might actually be a good sign. Loss of feeling or numbness would have been very bad.

Her head was starting to pound at a dull ache and her stomach was starting to revolt against the smell of the street and the blood. She was so done with this place, this time era, the fighting and the killing, all of it. She just wanted to go home. She wanted a hot shower, pain meds, a strong drink and a warm bed with lots of thick blankets and fluffy socks, and not necessarily in that order.

Lucy thought about how this trip had started out fairly well, chasing Emma to yet another time where she was recruiting for her big bad Rittenhouse comeback. They hadn’t even needed to split up, Emma had been easy enough to find in the middle of Chicago 1912.

Maybe it had been a little too easy to find her because the moment Wyatt and Rufus had turned around the street corner just ahead of her and Flynn, gunfire had opened up like firecrackers popping off and they’d all instinctively scattered in different directions for cover.

Flynn had practically bodily moved her to the safety of an alley wall, instructed her firmly to stay put and then proceeded to draw his gun from his holster and effortlessly join the fray just moments after Wyatt did almost the same to Rufus.

The dogfight left several Rittenhouse agents dead, Emma having escaped, and several bystanders injured. Wyatt had an injured shoulder where a Rittenhouse thug shoved him hard against the side of a building and a cut on his cheek from a piece of glass.

Rufus twisted his ankle after he tripped on the curb, trying to dodge a hail of bullets. Flynn had a busted lip, bruised jaw, and bloody knuckles from an agent that had gotten close enough to fight with fists instead. She thanked God that for once she’d gotten the worst of it instead of her team mates.

A Rittenhouse agent had somehow slipped passed trigger happy Flynn who was intent on killing Emma and Wyatt who had been distracted by some helpless passers-by who had strayed too close to the danger. The guy had come at her sideways with a knife, a nasty snarl on his features as he literally tried to run her through with the blade. She’d put her arms out instinctively and tried to twist out of the way of his swing.

She’d managed to avoid being completely gutted, but the knife had somehow still sliced across her stomach, almost horizontally. It wasn’t deep but there was a lot of blood and it was very painful. She’d tried to remain calm and collected about the whole thing, but she really didn’t do well with blood. The guy must have thought he’d succeeded in fatally wounding her because he did nothing else to her as she lay sprawled out next to the curb near the alley wall.

In the haze of being stabbed, she’d heard the shouting of her team mates, almost like through a long tunnel. They’d sounded far away. Everything seemed far away now as she laid prone on the unforgiving ground, staring up at the hazy sky.

Wyatt was suddenly in her line of vision, looking for all the world like he was the one who’d been gutted. He seemed to only uncoil slightly when he realized it wasn’t as bad as he first thought. He put his hand to her stomach and his eyes widened in horror when his fingers came away bloody. His blue eyes were swimming with worry, guilt, and anger as he put pressure on the wound, apologizing with his other hand that curled around the curve of her shoulder.

“Lucy, look at me.”

Her eyes snapped back into focus after she realized she’d spaced out for a few seconds. She met his gaze when his hand touched her cheek. “Focus on my voice, Luce. You’re going to be okay. Do you understand me? You’re going to be okay. Stay still so I can see how deep it is,” Wyatt said, voice trembling too much to be comforting, as he moved the slashed fabric of her blouse aside.

It was long and jagged, going almost from hip to belly button but didn’t seem life threatening, at least for the moment. The most worrying was the possibility of infection. Wyatt was staring down at her like this was his fault and even the way he touched her felt guilty.

They hadn’t gotten the chance to talk things out yet. About any of it. The situation with Jessica. What the hell they were going to do about any of it. He cursed himself internally for thinking again more about himself when he saw that bastard stab her. All he’d thought was he was going to lose her and he’d never gotten the chance to fix things between them.

God, he was a jackass. This wasn’t about him; this was about her. The conversation about them could wait. All he knew was that he needed her to live. Not just for him but for the whole team.

Lucy’s eyes slid to look over his shoulder and she gasped aloud, but it wasn’t from the pain which still hummed like an angry hornet beneath the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. “Lucy-” Wyatt said in alarm, going for the gun in his holster.

She gripped his arm with sudden strength, staying his impulsive movement. “Help him, Wyatt. Please. Help Flynn.”

Wyatt turned his head to see Flynn across the road, beating the man who’d stabbed her to a pulp. His teeth were bared and his eyes were raging as he brought his fist down relentlessly against the man’s face. The agent in question looked to not be putting up much of a fight in his seemingly semi-conscious state. Flynn’s tunnel vision was on high.

“Please Wyatt, stop him. He’s going to kill him,” she whispered frantically, suddenly overcome with some unknown emotion. She didn’t like that Flynn was over there and she was over here. She didn’t like that he seemed to be freaking out.

Wyatt looked deeply troubled, obviously disagreeing. “I can’t leave you. I need to stop the bleeding.”

“I got her, Wyatt,” Rufus said, appearing over his shoulder, a little worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. His face contorted when he saw Lucy’s injury up close. After a shared look and silent conversation, the men traded places, Wyatt giving Lucy one final loaded look before he went to grab Flynn.

Rufus touched Lucy’s hand and gave her a watery smile. “Everything’s going to be okay, Lucy. Just hang on,” he said, almost pleadingly. She gave his hand a tiny squeeze and nodded. He then set to work on wrapping a makeshift bandage. He tore a strip of his shirt and brought it behind her back and wrapped it around her waist.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned, and her eyes shuttered closed as he tightened the cloth.

Once he was finished, he grabbed her hand and tried to distract her by rambling about whatever came to mind, instead of her focusing on the blood and the pain. She wasn’t listening to him though. Lucy’s eyes tracked Wyatt through the haze of pain as he tried futilely it seemed to get through to Flynn.

Wyatt knew he wasn’t a man known for his subtlety and he was way past being patient so when he made it to the man who seemed to be the bane of his existence lately, he was anything but gentle or subtle. “Flynn!” he barked, yanking at the arm of the man who had easily at least 4 inches on him in height.

Flynn barely broke momentum, merely shaking his hold off like it was a mild irritation and carrying on. “Damn it, that’s enough!”

Wyatt got his arms around Flynn’s chest from behind and hauled him back with all his strength and might. Flynn snarled something in Croatian that Wyatt didn’t need a translation for to understand and tore himself free like a deranged, caged animal, shoving hard at Wyatt. Flynn gave him a very familiar murderous glare as his chest heaved and a wild look glinted in his eyes.

Wyatt worried for a second that he might turn and lash out at him just like he’d done to the agent. The Rittenhouse agent in question was slumped unconscious and unrecognizable among the blood and swelling covering his face.

Wyatt wasn’t afraid though; he was beyond aggravated. “You done being a raging psycho and pitching your little fit? We need to get Lucy home. Now,” Wyatt snapped, wondering why he was even bothering with this shit when Lucy was hurt. He didn’t care that he was probably poking the schizoid bear with his unnecessary jabs.

Flynn’s whole body seemed to shudder at his words and he whipped his head around to look over where Lucy lay and a muscle in his jaw jumped. An unknown emotion flashed in his eyes and after another long moment, his body seemed to shrink in on itself. He clenched his jaw and glared back at Wyatt, almost defiantly.

“This bastard hurt Lucy. He deserves to suffer,” he bit out matter-of-factly, but the underlining tone was frayed and fraught with tension.

“Not disagreeing, but we need to leave,” Wyatt said, not even trying to disguise his impatience and irritation. He was getting this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t care for. People were starting to gather near now that the danger had passed and the last thing, he wanted was for the authorities to show up and blame them for the mayhem.

When Flynn still seemed to want to go back to beating the guy, Wyatt added, if a little grudgingly, as if the words themselves pained him. “Lucy asked for you.” While not exactly true, if it got him away that’s all that mattered.

Wyatt watched what his words did to the other man. Flynn seemed to debate with himself before he settled on a decision, pulling his gun out of his holster and shooting the agent in the chest with a quick double tap. “Lucy didn’t want you to kill him,” Wyatt growled harshly, like everything about this man aggravated him.

Flynn gave him a look that clearly said ‘it’s a little late for that’, slipped his gun back into his holster, turned and stalked off toward Lucy in long determined strides that left Wyatt jogging to catch up with him.

“How is she doing?” Wyatt asked Rufus, pushing past Flynn.

“I’m good and in no way beyond speaking for myself, thanks,” Lucy sassed, answering for Rufus whose lip twitched in amusement and exasperation.

“I think the adrenaline took away her filter, she’s been talking back to me for the past good bit,” Rufus said, shaking his head.

“I thought guys liked girls who spoke their mind,” Lucy mumbled and Rufus inclined his head at Wyatt like ‘see what I mean?’.

Lucy’s slightly clouded eyes shifted over to Flynn whose eyes were already boring into her and warming her insides like a hearth. She tried for a tired smile, but she was worried about the careful way he was holding himself, like he was trying to keep all his jagged, broken pieces from falling off.

“Alright there, Flynn?” she asked breathlessly.

Moisture stung his eyes and emotion was suddenly clogging his throat. “Yeah.”

“Come on, Lucy, let’s get you up. We should leave before the authorities get here,” Wyatt said, interrupting them and signaling for Rufus to help him, purposefully ignoring Flynn who hovered like a shadow.

A team effort got her on her feet and before Wyatt could offer his arm, she’d reached for Flynn and gotten a hold of his arm. She leaned against his side, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and frowning at the close up she got of the cuts and bruises marring his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

His mouth pinched like he couldn’t believe she was asking him that question. “You should see the other guy,” he said, trying for snark but there was too much darkness in his tone for it to land right. His large hand wound slowly and with surprising gentleness around her back and grasped her elbow to hold her upright.

Wyatt looked like he wanted to tear that arm off even as they began a steady walk toward where they left the Lifeboat outside of town.

“You killed that guy,” Lucy said, seeing the prone body of the man who’d tried to gut her, but she sounded closer to resigned than horrified.

Flynn gave a small incline of his head and his cheek twitched. “I did what had to be done, Lucy. He could have killed you.”

His arm was like a steel wire around her and he walked close enough that his breath coasted over her hair and neck. His frame towered over her own and she found that she liked the safety he provided.

She leaned more heavily on him, feeling herself beginning to fade. Rufus had pretty much stopped the bleeding but the pain and loss of adrenaline were starting to take its toll on her. Flynn tightened his arm and supported most of her weight effortlessly. Even halfway passed out she felt Wyatt’s eyes drilling into her. He would corner her later.

They needed to talk things out anyway. He’d bring up Flynn and probably berate her for whatever imaginary line she’d crossed by becoming friends with him, and honestly, she didn’t have the energy for that. Her friendship with Flynn was off limits to Wyatt and it was none of his damn business anyway. She’d almost slapped him for referring to Flynn as a rebound.

She still loved Wyatt and probably always would in some way, but he could be an arrogant ass. He chose Jessica, Rittenhouse loyalty aside, and Lucy was going to have to live with that and move on. He needed to let her.

Flynn’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. “Almost there,” he muttered into her hair. They made it back to the Lifeboat with no other issues, no one stopping them other than some open, suspicious stares and loud whispers. Flynn was practically carrying her much to the dislike of Wyatt and shock of Rufus.

Wyatt tried feebly to take over helping Lucy once they were all inside safely, but a glower from Flynn had him glaring daggers back. “I’ve got her,” Flynn said, and Wyatt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from starting a fight.

Yeah, he had it alright. Flynn strapped Lucy securely in her seat and kept trying to keep her awake. “The ride is going to be hell on that wound, but you need to stay awake and alert.”

Lucy sucked in a sharp breath as a stab of pain lanced across her stomach. “I’m already beginning to feel that,” she muttered and his face twisted like he was in pain too.

Flynn tried to cover up his emotions by putting a semblance of his unreadable mask back on, but his eyes bled for her as he took his seat and strapped in.

Wyatt watched him watch Lucy and didn’t know how to feel about it, about them. He just wanted Lucy to be okay, damn it. He wanted them to be okay. He hated the tension that seemed to make a chasm between them and he was at a loss as to how to close the gap.

He wanted her safe and happy. He loved her. He’d royally screwed up whatever chance he’d had with her and he knew it. But that sure as hell didn’t mean he wanted her getting involved with Flynn. The man was wrong for Lucy. Hell. The man was wrong for anyone really. He was just literally the worst in Wyatt’s opinion.

By the time they made it back to the bunker, Lucy was more unconscious than conscious, her head lolling to the side and her eyes continuing to close of their own accord. Wyatt and Flynn were taking turns giving her apprehensive glances.

Flynn got more and more agitated, seeing her in distress and being unable to go to her. He was the first to get his seatbelt off the second they appeared back in their own time and was at her side in seconds.

“Lucy,” Flynn said, putting a hand on the back of her neck and lifting her head up. His other hand deftly unbuckled her from the seat. Wyatt lingered just past Flynn’s shoulder anxiously as Rufus shut off the time machine.

“Flynn,” she gasped out, eyes fluttering. “It hurts.”

The tears in her eyes and quiver in her voice were like shrapnel in his heart. “I know it hurts. I know. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Can you walk?”

She tried to move, groaned and thought better of it, shaking her head. Wyatt saw his opportunity. “I can carry you,” he offered, aiming his suggestion at Lucy instead of Flynn but there was an edge to his voice and a challenge in his eyes that was aimed at the other man.

“No need,” Flynn declared when it was obvious Lucy was uncomfortable, his tone pure steel as he slipped one arm behind her back and the other underneath her knees, lifting her up with ease. He no doubt could easily bench press three of her, but her pain-riddled mind was impressed none the less.

Wyatt scowled and moved quickly to open the hatch and Rufus was careful to stay out of the way, out of their weird ass love triangle – square thing. Whatever the hell kind of thing it was. He was doing his best to ignore it. If anything since he’d died and come back, things had only gotten more awkward and more complicated between Wyatt and Lucy.

And now freaking Garcia Flynn was in the mix too? When the hell had that happened? Rufus hadn’t missed Flynn’s psycho panic attack/freak out when Lucy had been stabbed. Were they absolutely sure Flynn hadn’t loosened some screws in that thick head of his? Rufus wasn’t so sure.

Agent Christopher, Jiya and Connor were waiting when Flynn came out of the machine with Lucy in his arms and Wyatt and Rufus right behind. “What the hell happened? Is she okay?” Agent Christopher demanded, her face tightening and her mouth pinching as she saw the state of their beloved historian.

Connor and Jiya’s gazes both automatically slid to Rufus, unconsciously checking to make sure he was alright. Jiya stepped closer so she could get a better look at Lucy and her face shuddered in worry and pain.

“Rittenhouse bastards slashed Lucy with a knife,” Rufus said, reaching for his girlfriend when she visibly flinched at his words.

“Oh my God,” Jiya muttered as she pulled at the fabric gently so she could see the extent of the wound.

“How bad?” Agent Christopher wanted to know.

“We need to stitch this up, now,” Flynn growled, like he couldn’t believe they were standing around talking about it this long. Connor was already moving to grab the med kit and Flynn was setting Lucy carefully on the makeshift examination table.

Connor’s face was grim as he handed the kit to Jiya. “We’re out of topical anesthesia,” he said, and Wyatt’s head whipped around to glare at Agent Christopher. She was the team leader. She was supposed to be taking care of his team, damn it. Even Flynn looked unimpressed with this information.

Jiya winced and bit her lip. “I have the steadiest hand and strongest stomach,” she said looking at Rufus who looked down. “I’ll stitch her up. We’ll have to use alcohol, that’s all we have. It'll be better than nothing.” She glanced at Connor who nodded and went to grab a bottle from his room.

Jiya set to work sterilizing the needle and putting on gloves. Connor returned with the alcohol, looking a little green like he was the one going to be stuck with a needle. “Someone will have to hold her down. This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

Rufus and Connor excused themselves, not having the stomach to watch and not wanting to crowd Jiya or Lucy too much. Agent Christopher hovered off to the side out of the way, posture tense and face set in sharp lines. Flynn put his hands on Lucy’s shoulders and Wyatt moved opposite him and grabbed her legs. Jiya rolled her eyes as the two men openly glared at each other. She tried not to be too annoyed.

Everyone’s thoughts were dark as they remembered the infection Lucy had gotten a few months before from a mere small cut on her arm. No one was sure exactly what that might mean for this one. If her fever went as high as it did before she’d most likely need a hospital and they couldn’t afford that kind of exposure.

Lucy hovered between coherent and incoherent, but she was lucid enough to know what was about to happen. “I’m starting now,” Jiya warned unnecessarily and Lucy cried out when the needle broke through the skin and reached for the person closest to her which happened to be Flynn. She gripped his forearm in a vice hold, fingernails digging into the skin.

“Lucy, look at me,” Flynn said, voice softer than anyone in the room had heard before. When she obeyed, he flashed a tender smile, careful of their audience. Especially Wyatt who was watching stonily. “You’re doing great.”

She tried to return a shaky smile but it came out as a grimace and she gasped again. “I bet...” she swallowed and tried again. “I bet future me would be a total badass right now and wouldn’t even be flinching.” A few tears rolled down her cheeks. “Not blubbering like a baby.”

Wyatt’s hands squeezed her ankles. “You’re strong too, Lucy. Don't ever forget that, okay?” He said it with such sincerity and emotion that it made her want to cry harder. “I lo- like you just the way you are. The Lucy you are right now.” He’d tripped over that dangerous, forbidden word and hoped she didn’t notice.

Flynn definitely noticed but the only verbal engagement he gave was, “As much as it pains me to say, Wyatt’s right.” Wyatt, Jiya and Agent Christopher looked at him skeptically. He ignored them in favor of addressing Lucy. “You don’t need to be her to be important,” Flynn rumbled, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.

“Future me probably wouldn’t have gotten herself stabbed...so I’d be more useful if I became her,” she argued, but her words were slurring from pain and exhaustion.

Flynn studied her. “You are plenty useful now, but if it will make you feel better, I can train you to better defend yourself,” he offered carefully.

Wyatt gave him the stink eye for that suggestion. “I could train you, Lucy.”

Jiya clenched her jaw. “How about the both of you show us all how to defend ourselves. We could use the lessons.”

“How about you all save this conversation for later when Lucy is feeling better,” Agent Christopher said, but it was not a suggestion.

Wyatt and Flynn shut their mouths, but Wyatt continued to silently fume. He really wanted to deck Flynn in his freaking face, but he knew everyone in the bunker would have something to say about that. It didn’t stop him from fantasizing though.

“Done,” Jiya announced a while later, finishing up the ointment and bandage wrap around Lucy’s stomach. “It’s as good as it’ll get without proper medical attention. I recommend rest, fluids, and pain meds. We won’t know for a few more hours whether infection will set in or not. We need to make sure the wound stays clean and dry and bandages are changed every few hours. We’ll need to keep a close eye on her.”

“I’ll watch her,” Wyatt said at the same time Flynn said, “She can stay in my room.”

“Like hell she will,” Wyatt growled, hackles raised and ready for a fight.

“Well, certainly the last thing she needs is to be stuck alone in a room with you.”

Lucy was literally in between them on the table as they argued. “You’re one to talk you slippery son of a bitch. You’re probably happy this happened just so you could find another way to manipulate her while she’s weak,” Wyatt spat out vindictively, even though he knew that wasn’t true. Jiya watched them fight, totally nonplussed.

“Wyatt, that’s enough!” Agent Christopher commanded.

“Happy?” Flynn repeated, looking like he’d been hit over the head with a brick. “She was almost killed. Some Rittenhouse scum tried to cut her to pieces and you think I’d rejoice in that?” He sounded like he was on the edge of a cliff and falling off. His eyes were glinting in a way that made even Agent Christopher nervous and his hands balled up tightly.

Lucy grabbed his wrist, halting whatever movement he’d been about to make. “Please don’t fight,” she pleaded weakly at Flynn. Her eyes slid over to Wyatt and she bit her lip. “It’s okay, Wyatt. Most of my stuff is in his room so I’ll stay in there.” Her explanation was reasonable, but Wyatt still looked like he’d been struck.

“So, it’s settled. Flynn will look after Lucy,” Agent Christopher said diplomatically but she was giving Wyatt a hard stare as if daring him to object further. Wyatt clenched his jaw, shot both Agent Christopher and Flynn a glare, gave one last longing look to Lucy and then turned and stormed off.

Flynn needed no further invitation to leave and held out his hands in silent question to Lucy. She looked ready to pass out again, but nodded and accepted his help getting off the table. She bit her lip and swallowed the groan of pain the movement caused but she was glad to be standing on her feet, even if her body was sort of canting toward Flynn. She tried to smile to show them she really was okay.

“Thank you, Jiya,” Lucy said, eyes watering as she was overwhelmed with warmth.

Jiya looked overcome with emotion too. “Of course, Luce. Don’t make a habit of getting stabbed in the future, okay?” Her eyes were liquid and her chin quivered.

“I’ll do my best.” She watched Jiya excuse herself from their presence to find where Rufus had gone off to before glancing up at Flynn who was watching her.

“Get some rest, Lucy. We will debrief once you are feeling better,” Agent Christopher said, with an extra look at Flynn as if to say ‘you better take care of her’. He gave no outward knowledge that he understood but she knew her point had been made.

Flynn supported a good amount of her weight and let her set the pace back to his room that had kind of become hers too in the last two weeks. Half way there, she was practically being carried just from sheer exhaustion. Once Lucy made it to the bed, Flynn got the sleepwear and laid it next to her.

“I’m going to grab the pain meds and some water. Will you be okay for a moment?” He asked, and she knew what he was really saying. He was giving he time to get dressed privately without him breathing down her neck, but at the same time offering assistance if she truly needed it.

“Yes, thank you,” she said softly, taking it as the friendly offer that it was and nothing more. They had perfected this platonic dance of theirs in the recent weeks and they were really good at knowing exactly what the other needed.

Somewhere along the way he became her safe person, the one she trusted and depended on the most. He understood her and continued to somehow be the easiest person to talk to. He was strength and stability in an otherwise tumultuous time. They shared both pain and passion, grief and grit when it came to those they loved the most. It was an impossible pill to swallow that they might never get their families back, that they might remain fractured forever.

She dressed slowly and held in every gasp of pain that she could while she suspected he lingered just outside the door, giving her a semblance of dignity. He knocked before he entered once she was done, coming in with the meds and a glass of cool ice water. He handed them to her, his eyes watching her intently as she swallowed the pills down.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her, voice unbelievably soft.

“Like I got stabbed,” she muttered, but her tone was light and without sting. “But I’ll live.”

“You’d better,” he said, equally light but there was underlining sincerity that she appreciated. He leaned over her and touched the back of his large hand to her forehead and frowned. “You’re a little warm.”

His eyebrows pulled together and he touched his tongue to his top lip. Flynn pulled back the sheet and gestured for her to slide in. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you in a little bit to check your temperature. Drink the rest of that and I’ll get you some more. Hydration will help your body heal.”

“Where will you sleep?” she asked, knowing this was the only bed since Agent Christopher had yet to bring another cot to the base. He needed to sleep too, considering she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him take more than a nap in the last few days.

He smiled down at her, his hand almost seeming to reach for her on its own accord before he caught himself. “I’ll be in the chair so I can keep an eye on you.”

She frowned. “That chair is tiny and your...not. You won’t be able to rest well in it. Go get some sleep on the couch. I’ll be fine for a little while.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone. There’s still a possibility of infection and if that happens it’s crucial that I catch it early,” he said firmly, resolution in his tone as he watched her drink the water.

Lucy didn’t know why she said it and she was definitely going to blame this on the pain killers later. “Flynn, can I ask you something without making it too weird?”

He inclined his head, green eyes calm and curious. “Will you lay with me?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Lay with you? Right now?” He sounded thrown by her question but not upset or uncomfortable.

She swallowed the last of the water and set the glass back on the table. “I’m not...I don’t want to make this awkward...I just want to be held.” Her face flushed because that wasn’t embarrassing at all to admit. “You’d know if I was getting a fever easier,” she added lamely.

Flynn was always so cautious with her, so careful of her space, so careful to toe a safe line and make sure she was comfortable. He studied her now, seeming to decide if her comfort now was worth the risk of overstepping a line.

The sheer amount of emotions that flashed through his eyes threatened to overwhelm her. He felt very strongly about everything and it seemed he felt very strongly about this.

He glanced down at his period clothes and then back at her, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I’ll ...uh...go change into some different clothes really quick and get you some more water.” She thought maybe she’d scared him off for a moment, but something about the way his gaze lingered told her he’d do as she asked.

It seemed she only closed her eyes for a second before she opened them to find him standing in front of the bed, a look of indecision on his face. She decided that she liked him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Lay with me, Flynn,” she whispered and his face softened.

He very carefully climbed onto the cot and tried to maneuver his body so that he was curled around her back and nowhere near her injury. When he settled, she slowly moved closer until her head rested on his chest. He tensed for a moment before he relaxed, putting his arm by her head and the other at his side.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and God love him, he sounded so unsure of himself and tentative.

“It’s more than okay, Flynn. Thank you,” she responded, her body slowly starting to give in to sleep.

She was so tired and he was so solid and warm, it was intoxicating. She knew peace resting against his chest feeling him breathe and hearing his heart beat. Before she thought better of it, she searched for his hand by her leg and grasped it tightly.

Lucy drifted off then in the safety of his arms. She thought that she might have imagined feather light lips in her hair and whispered words, “Sleep well, Lucy.”

… to be continued ...

Chapter Text

Lucy woke a while later to overwhelming heat encompassing her whole body. She was soaked in sweat; she could feel how it collected in every crevasse of her body. She couldn’t stop the moan of discomfort that slipped out from between her clenched teeth.

“Hot,” she mumbled and something shifted quickly beneath her, large hands found her face, brushed damp hair out of her eyes.

“Lucy,” a voice said, urgent and tense. “Open your eyes,” it commanded.

“Too hot,” she said again, louder this time but she couldn’t get her eyelids to function so she remained in darkness.

The voice she realized belonged to Flynn who she’d been using as a pillow. He swore in Croatian, tapping her cheek. “Lucy, open your eyes and look at me.”

Finally, her eyes slid slowly open and she saw a blurry face come into focus. “There you are.” His hand still lingered on her cheek. “You’re burning up.” He leaned away from her and grabbed the thermometer off the table, then put it in front of her mouth.

She opened up so he could put it under her tongue. Once it was time to take it out, he saw the number and frowned. “It’s at 102.4. How are you feeling right now?”

“Sweaty, achy, and like I could lay here for a solid month,” she said, not liking the way her shirt was sticking to her collarbone or the bruise that was her whole body.

“Pain level?” he asked.

“It’s at a dull throb and a little tender but otherwise not too bad.” She drooped forward until her forehead rested against his shoulder. She felt her stitches pull a little at the movement and she winced at the shot of pain that went across her abdomen. Who was she kidding? Getting stabbed hurt like a bitch.

“You should drink more water and try to rest some more. I don’t want that fever getting any higher.” He was tense, having clearly seen the high level of discomfort she was in and not having any further way of helping.

She nodded and obediently drank from her glass of water. They were silent as she finished the rest and put the glass on the table beside the cot. She shifted back a little and leaned against the wall so she could see his face better. “Flynn?”

“Hm?” He murmured.

“You’re really good at this,” she stated plainly, feeling very honest under the influence of pain medicine. The chill of the wall felt nice through the fabric of her shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Good at what?”

“Taking care of me,” Lucy whispered like it was a well-kept secret. “Thank you.”

He looked so uncomfortable with her gratitude. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, Lucy.”

“I want to,” she said, biting her lip and looking at him through half-lidded eyes. “We’ve come quite a long way. The Hindenburg seems so far away now. Like another lifetime.” There was grief and wonder in her eyes.

He flinched at the mention of one of his worst moments even though she wasn’t trying to remind him to rub it in his face. “Does the journal say we win? That we get our families back?” She asked randomly, the questions had been running through her mind for weeks but she’d been too afraid to ask.

Flynn looked suddenly stricken and taken aback and he swallowed hard, taking a long time to answer. “...Uh...no it doesn’t and it never did. It just gives hope that we can stop Rittenhouse and maybe save people along the way.”

Lucy frowned. “Please tell me future me didn’t promise we could save your family to manipulate you into doing what we wanted.”

He was quick to respond. “No, she didn’t promise me anything or manipulate me in anyway. She only said that if I wanted, I could have the opportunity to stop the people who took my family away from me. I could stop what happened to me from happening to someone else. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me going. It gave me hope.”

Flynn licked his lip and looked away and then back at her. “You gave me hope that day, Lucy. You’ve given me more than I could ever deserve. You gave me my hope and my humanity back and I don’t take that lightly.” God, he was looking at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars.

Her breath caught and tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t know how but we’ll be happy again, Flynn. All the hell we’ve been through has to mean something. If we get to the end of this thing only to die, I’m going to be severely pissed off. I know I’m going to fight like hell to stay alive and kick Rittenhouse’s ass to kingdom come.”

He had no idea where the stray thought came from, but he got the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss that determined expression off her face. He lost his nerve though, thinking about all the reasons he shouldn’t cross that line.

She was still very much getting over Wyatt and he was still very much a mess in general. They’d just reached the point in recent months where there was genuine trust and friendship. She’d finally stopped being so skittish and weary and suspicious of him every time he tried to get to know her. The grief of losing Rufus and the chasm in her relationship with Wyatt had caused her to open up to him in a way she probably never would have under any other circumstances.

They’d gotten Rufus back months ago. Jessica was sort of back in the picture again, despite his own personal reservations about it and things with Wyatt had cooled down and yet Lucy was still choosing Flynn’s company every single night since. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this thing they had. He liked having someone to talk to, someone who didn’t look at him like was a psychotic murderer or a heartless terrorist. She looked at him like he was still a human being.

The team was better now than they were, but they were a long way away from including him in anything non-mandatory. At least Rufus was no longer acting like Flynn might shoot him in the back and Wyatt was no longer making openly hostile remarks about leaving Flynn stranded somewhere. Even Agent Christopher was treating him like he was actually a valued member of her team with the same importance as everyone else.

Jiya was harder to decipher; while still clearly wary of him, she wasn’t outright rude like Wyatt or obstinate like Rufus. Jiya was cautious of him, but far from unkind. Connor was different. He’d decided that Flynn’s sins were not any worse than the rest of them and had made an effort to befriend him, even if Flynn had not welcomed it. At least in the beginning he didn’t; he supposed Connor wasn’t so bad now. He was surprisingly grateful for small mercies. Somehow, he’d become an accepted part of this team, if only loosely.

He watched the tiny fierce historian before him with her big doe eyes and dimpled smile. God, she was going to completely wreck him at this rate. “I believe you, Lucy. You’re going to survive this. Nothing is going to happen to you.” His words were a promise as much as they were a threat, but aimed at the universe, not her.

“Hey, I’m going to make damn sure you survive this too. I’m not giving you another option,” Lucy insisted, poking him in the chest but physical weakness kept it from being anything other than the lightest of touches.

“I don’t doubt that.” He tried his best not to appear smitten.

She smiled crookedly and hummed a response, seeming to lose energy all at once as she turned and slumped against him once more. Her body was like a furnace against his own and he prayed to God that she’d be strong enough to fight off the fever and that it wouldn’t get any higher. He felt her relax and begin to give into sleep and he did his best to follow suit, but he wanted to remain partially aware in case she needed him.

…

Flynn stirred to a knock on the door and debated on how to get out from under Lucy without waking her up or jarring her injury. It took him a moment, but he was able to pick her up, slide out from under her and put her down gently with only minimal damage. Lucy merely furrowed her brows, sighed through her nose, and turned her head toward the wall.

He knew he’d have to wake her very soon to clean the wound, change the bandages and have her drink more water. She was flushed still and her skin was slick with perspiration and if anything, hotter than before. He tried to ignore the twinge and tightening in his stomach. She had to be okay. There was no other option he was willing to consider.

Whoever was interrupting better have a damn good reason for it or Flynn was going to raise hell. He opened the door and couldn’t stop the scowl that came to his face when he was met with one annoying Wyatt Logan. The other man looked like he swallowed something sour, but his eyes looked worried as he peered around his imposing frame to look into the room.

“How is she?” Wyatt was genuinely concerned.

“Sleeping soundly for the moment. She has a fever that I’m keeping an eye on.” He worked to be polite, but he remained on his guard. Flynn wasn’t in the mood for Wyatt’s bullshit and he made sure his face communicated that perfectly. “Now, if that’s all you came to see...”

Wyatt swallowed a cutting response to the dismissal before he shifted somewhat uncomfortably. “So... you and Lucy are...” he trailed off, clearly unsure how to even finish that thought.

Flynn barely resisted rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your damn business but Lucy and I are friends. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term even if you yourself have fallen so short of being a decent one.” He gave his best shit-eating grin. “And I honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether that bothers you or not.” Flynn was baiting him, but he could have cared less at the moment. Lucy’s fever was making him edgy with restless energy and an unbelievable itch to pick a fight. Wyatt was the perfect target.

Wyatt clenched his hands and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He was making an effort not to snap back but he hated Garcia Flynn. “I don’t want you hurting her. She’s been through enough.”

Flynn chuckled but there was no humor in it. “You mean, hurt her the way you’ve been hurting her? Abandon her like you did? Put her through more crap? I’m not going to put her through anything else. For some reason, Lucy has chosen to lean on me and I wouldn’t do anything to screw that up.”

The sound of Wyatt’s teeth grounding together could almost audibly be heard. “I didn’t abandon her. I never meant to hurt her. I love Lucy. My wife came back from the freakin’ dead. What the hell was I supposed to do? I know I royally messed things up with Lucy and she’d have every right to want nothing to do with me, but I really do want to make things right with her.”

“If you truly cared for Lucy, you’d back off and let her come to you when she’s ready instead of constantly hounding her,” Flynn said, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, asshole. Back the hell off. I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

“And if I don’t? Please say you’ll make me.”

“I just might.” Wyatt took a step closer.

“Both of you knock it off,” Lucy slurred with quiet desperation. She’d somehow found the strength to stand upright but her body was shaking and she had an arm tucked against the tender flesh of her inflamed wound. She was clearly in a lot of pain.

“Lucy!” Flynn was at her side in an instant, Wyatt behind him. “You shouldn’t be standing up.”

“And you shouldn’t be fi–” She broke off with a cry and her body fell forward and Flynn’s reflexes kept her from hitting the floor. He put her back on the cot, quickly took her temperature and swore when he saw the number.

“Almost at 105. Damn it!” Flynn turned to Wyatt. “Go get Jiya.” Wyatt didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted out the door.

Flynn focused on not losing his mind as he waited anxiously for Jiya. He willed Lucy to be alright with everything in him. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It seemed like too long before Wyatt came back with Jiya and Rufus in tow.

“Her fever’s spiked. She’s too hot,” Flynn said to Jiya, voice cracking.

Jiya snapped into action immediately. “Rufus, get as many cloths and towels as you can. Soak them with cool water but not cold. We need to try and cool her down but we can’t submerge that wound in water. Wyatt, get the med kit so I can clean the cut and replace the bandage.”

She was momentarily caught off guard by Flynn who had seemed to subconsciously curl his body protectively around Lucy on the cot. Jiya’s heart squeezed at the potentially devastating turn of events. She was terrified. Lucy needed a doctor. A real one who could save her life. Last time they’d made do with what they had, but this time seemed worse, so much worse. Flynn stood from the bed, but hovered near by, unable to leave Lucy’s side. Jiya knew it wasn’t the right time to analyze his complicated expression, but she had questions for later.

Jiya worked diligently once Wyatt and Rufus returned with the items she requested. The room was tense as the three men watched Jiya clean, bandage the wound, and cover her body with wet cool cloths. Lucy remained unconscious for the whole thing, not even so much as twitching. Jiya huffed out a harsh breath and brushed her hair out of her face, finally stepping away from the cot once she was finished.

The men looked like they were waiting for something to happen. “What now?” Rufus wondered like he feared the answer.

“Now we wait,” Jiya said softly, not missing the flinch that passed along both Flynn and Wyatt.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Wyatt croaked; hands clenched at his sides.

“I don’t know.” The words burned in her throat. “We’ve done pretty much everything we can. The rest is up to her.” She wished so badly there was more she could do.

Lucy’s body began to seize and Flynn was suddenly next to her, turning her on her side and being careful to keep her on the bed without restraining movement. He looked completely wrecked but not surprised. He knew what high fever did to the body. It often looked worse than it was, but that didn’t make it any easier on his sanity. Wyatt was standing at the foot of the cot, his face pale and drawn, but he didn’t try to touch her. Rufus looked horrified and Jiya had tears running down her face. Lucy finally stopped convulsing. Flynn didn’t waste any time climbing onto the cot, putting his body between Lucy’s and the wall in case she had another seizure. He didn’t want her hitting the concrete. He put a shaking hand in her tangled, sweaty hair.

Lucy was completely limp, not having stirred again since she passed out. Flynn grabbed one of the cloths and began gently wiping her face with it. Wyatt didn’t comment on Flynn’s forwardness, for once more caught up in his own worry. He no longer had the energy to fight with Flynn. He only cared about Lucy. She needed to be okay. He sighed heavily and moved to the torn up chair, settling in for the long haul. Jiya turned away from the scene, covering her mouth with a hand and trying to hold back more tears that threatened to spill over. Lucy needed fluids and fever reducer and she needed it now.

Jiya needed to update Agent Christopher on Lucy’s condition. She turned and left the room, grabbing Rufus’s hand and tugging at him to follow. “We need to get Agent Christopher. Lucy needs a doctor right now. I’m afraid she might not survive the next 12 hours or so,” Jiya said, out of earshot of Flynn and Wyatt.

“What?” Rufus said.

“Damn it, I should have known it would get this bad. I thought I could handle it like I did before. She needs an actual doctor, not someone who took a few first-aid courses online.” The guilt was practically eating her alive at the thought she might be the reason Lucy dies.

Rufus’s eyebrows drew together and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “Jiya, this isn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing how bad it’d get. We’ll get a doctor and Lucy will be okay. She’s strong.”

She choked and tightened her arms around his neck. “Oh God, Rufus. Nothing can happen to her. Nothing. We won’t survive losing her.” She was thinking of Wyatt. What will he do if she dies? And now under a recent observation, she wondered what will Flynn do?

“It won’t. She will pull through.” He tugged her closer.

Agent Christopher came around the corner down the hall just as they were pulling away from each other. “What’s wrong? Is Lucy okay?” She saw their faces and feared the worst.

Jiya hastily wiped at her eyes. “Lucy’s fever is too high; she lost consciousness and had a seizure. I don’t know what else to do. We need a doctor. She needs an IV and fever reducer soon or I’m afraid she might not make it.”

Agent Christopher’s frown deepened and the skin by her eyes creased. “A doctor wouldn’t get here in time. I can make a call and see if we can get an IV and fever reducer delivered to the bunker. Is 4 hours too late?”

Jiya bit her lip. “I really don’t know. There’s a chance she could pull out on her own. The next 12 hours will be crucial if her temperature continues to climb. Before it reached 105 and I had to wait for her body to break the infection down on its own.”

“I’ll make the call,” Agent Christopher said grimly, doing her best to keep hold of her professional composure as she pulled out her phone.

Rufus put his arms around Jiya again, not being able to stand not touching her when she was so upset. She slumped against him and clenched her hands in his shirt. “And now we wait.”

…

The next three days were hell for the whole team as they took turns watching over Lucy, keeping her wound clean and bandaged and replacing her IV of fluids. Flynn barely left her side, except to eat and use the restroom. He slept very little but when he did it was always in the chair scooted right up against the cot. Wyatt stayed almost as much but hated having to spend the time with Flynn, even if the man was suspiciously quiet and non-confrontational. They didn’t speak but they also didn’t fight either which was a miracle in of itself.

Lucy woke several times during those three days. She screamed in pain and in incoherent terror, hallucinating enemies and horrors that only she could see. She wasn’t lucid and could not be reached, let alone consoled. They were worried she would tear her stitches from the way she was flailing around during one of her more violent imaginings. Two different instances, she woke up sobbing and moaning in agony, the wound inflamed and the only thing Flynn or Wyatt could do was hold onto her and wait for her to tire herself and pass out once more.

On the second day, she’d seized bad enough that Rufus had thought the worst and shouted desperately for Jiya, causing the whole bunker to overreact. Flynn had burst through the door like a madman, eyes blown wide in terror and hair wild. Wyatt and Jiya had come into the room just as Flynn was snarling at Rufus to tell him what the hell had happened. After Jiya quickly assessed that Lucy was alright, Wyatt had slumped in relief and Rufus had shrunk away from Flynn who looked like he wanted to put the other man through a wall for the false alarm. Jiya had saved her boyfriend by pulling him away and leaving Flynn to watch over Lucy. No one even bothered to tell Flynn to chill, as everyone was equally on edge and emotions were running very high. Even Wyatt valued his life enough not to comment.

Finally, on the fourth day, Lucy woke up hungry and lucid. She almost instantly noticed Flynn whose gigantic slumbering body was hard to miss scrunched up awkwardly in the chair. He was as close as the bed would let him be without actually being on it with her. He was turned so she could see his face and she frowned at the tense lines that were present even while he slept. His hand was resting on the mattress next to her and she reached for it, squeezing gently.

Flynn stirred instantly at her touch, immediately realizing she was awake and watching him. She took a moment to study him as he stared at her. His face was ashy and drawn, dark shadows were under his bloodshot eyes and several days-worth of stubble littered his cheeks. He looked awful, but she was sure that she didn’t look any better. She was taken aback by the sheer amount of emotion on his face and the intense way he seemed to be cataloging every part of her and watching her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

His face split into a relieved smile that reached his eyes which she found herself loving the more she saw of it. He leaned forward and put his hands out to touch her, only hesitating when he didn’t seem to know how to without possibly hurting her.

“Lucy, thank God.” He said something else after that in his native tongue that she had no context clues for. She could tell he wanted to touch her, hold her but was stopping himself from the luxury of comfort, of reassurance.

“Flynn,” she whispered.

He licked his lips, eyelids fluttering. “Are you – are you okay? Please, tell me you’re okay.” His voice was rough and pleading in a way she had never heard it before; a vulnerability present in his face not often seen.

She was quick to reassure him. “I’m alright.” She hated how stricken he looked and before she thought better of it, she reached out and brushed her fingers along his forehead. She touched the few fallen strands of hair, brushed along the wrinkles of tension and down the side of his face, lingering on the rough stubble at his jaw. He shivered at the sensation and his green eyes were almost like intense liquid orbs.

He’d been barely holding it together these past few days and all she wanted to do was relieve him of that burden. She wondered why she wanted to do it and if he would let her. She tugged at the arm closest to her and he blinked at her in confusion but came forward willingly. When he was close enough to hug without straining her healing wound, she put her arms around his neck and leaned back, forcing him to follow her onto the cot. She put her cheek against his ear, feeling the huge puff of air he let out against her head. He put one hand at her back and the other on the bed to keep from losing his balance.

She pressed her nose into the collar of his shirt and tightened her grip on his shoulders. Lucy stubbornly held onto him until she felt the muscles in his back uncoil and the tension leave his body. He shuddered in her arms and his lips touched the side of her head in the lightest of kisses before he reluctantly pulled away.

He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing around her and she wanted to laugh at how awkward and uncertain he suddenly seemed. “How are you feeling?” His eyebrows were furrowed like he was still worried. His hand automatically touched her forehead, almost subconsciously reassuring himself that she was okay.

“Better. The fever broke and the pain is manageable,” she said.

He dipped his head, satisfied. “I’ll get Jiya and the others. They will want to know you’re alright. We need to make sure the infection is gone and clean and rebandage that wound.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Flynn?” He stopped at the door and turned his head when she said his name. “Would you – uh – mind bringing some food back with you? I’m starving.”

His answering smile was warm. “Coming right up.”

Moments passed before the whole team filed through the door, every single one of them looking beyond relieved to see her. Wyatt was in the front, then Jiya, Rufus, Connor, and Agent Christopher. Flynn was presumably in the kitchen getting her something to eat. Wyatt looked rough, like he’d had not enough sleep and a little too much to drink. He was so happy to see her; she could tell by the light in his blue eyes and the impossibly wide smile.

“Lucy.” Wyatt went to her side, tentatively reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” Rufus spoke up good naturedly, his own grin nearly splitting his face as he tucked Jiya against his side.

Jiya had tears in her eyes. “Yeah, Lacey. You’re the best partner in crime I have. I don’t want the trouble of having to go find another.”

“I’m so sorry guys,” Lucy said, glancing at all the faces of people who had become a family to her. She didn’t know what she’d do without them.

“Good heavens, don’t apologize. It is not your fault,” Connor said from his place next to Rufus.

“It’s my fault, Luce. I should have protected you better.” Wyatt frowned and shook his head, always so quick to blame himself.

“It isn’t anyone’s fault, Wyatt,” Rufus disagreed vehemently. “Blame the damn agent who stabbed her.”

“The only thing that matters is that you’re alright,” Agent Christopher said with her usual composure, but she was clearly just as relieved as everyone else. “Now, I suggest we give Lucy time to rest and heal. Jiya, if you would please check and make sure the infection is gone.” She looked around at the haggard faces of her team. “I’d say we all could use some r & r after the week we’ve had. I’m ordering you all to get some rest. We’ll convene tomorrow once everyone has had a full night’s sleep.”

Everyone obediently cleared out, except for Jiya and Wyatt, the latter was very reluctant to leave. Especially since he finally had a moment with her that didn’t involve Flynn being within earshot. Jiya quickly and efficiently cleaned and rebandaged the cut, took Lucy’s temperature and came to the obvious conclusion. “The wound shows no signs of infection, your temp’s back to normal, and you seem to be healing nicely. I’d still take it slow the next few days and give your body time to regulate and regain your strength. No grand adventures for at least two weeks, just to be safe.”

Lucy opened her mouth, but Jiya cut her off with a mild glare. “That means no heroics of any kind, Lucy. I mean it. You don’t want to pull those stitches. They’ll come out in about 12 to 14 days, depending on how you’re healing.”

Lucy nodded, if a little grudgingly and Wyatt hid his laugh behind a cough. “No heroics, I promise. Thanks, Jiya. You’re the best Cagney a girl could ever ask for.”

Jiya gave her a lopsided grin as she picked up the medical supplies. “Damn straight, I am.” She threw Wyatt a hard stare when she turned to leave but he stayed planted by the cot.

“I’m right behind you, Jiya. I just want to say something to Lucy... alone.” He smiled at Jiya, but Lucy could tell he was nervous. Jiya still looked suspicious and unsure, but a slight nod from Lucy gave her the signal she needed to leave them alone.

Wyatt shifted his feet and said nothing immediately even though they were alone in the room and the door was closed. He glanced around the room, the room she pretty much shared with Flynn, noticing the mix of items scattered throughout. It gave off a level of domesticity that made his throat want to close up. He made no snide comments though. He wasn’t here to pick a fight with her, especially not over Flynn.

“So... what was so important it couldn’t be said in front of Jiya?” Lucy prodded when it was obvious he wasn’t going to speak first.

He swallowed and met her gaze, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “I know now’s not the time for a big long talk, but when you’re feeling up to it there are some things I think we should discuss. I also wanted to say that I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt you. I’ve been the biggest jackass in the world to you and I want to make it up to you. If – if – you’ll let me....”

Lucy was a little thrown. She was so sure he was going to bring up Flynn. She thought he’d wanted to take yet another opportunity to point out everything she was doing wrong and reminding her that Flynn was probably just another way of coping with the fact that Wyatt had broken her heart. Wyatt looked and sounded utterly sincere and she wanted to believe him. She knew in spite of all that had happened, he was a good man. He was asking for a chance. A chance to fix the giant chasm in their relationship. He was finally wanting an actual grown-up mature conversation about what had gone down between them and she was grateful. There were things she wanted to say to him too.

“I think a talk between us is long overdue. I want us to be friends again, Wyatt. I really do.” She was being brutally honest with him and she prayed he wouldn’t let her down again.

His eyes crinkled in relief and he smiled gratefully at her. “Me too, Lucy. More than anything.” He leaned forward, opened his arms and hesitated like he was silently asking permission before she pulled him in the rest of the way and hugged him tightly.

A knock on the door and its sudden opening interrupted them. They pulled away just as Flynn came in with a tray of food in hand. He didn’t look the least bit ruffled by either of their previous positions. His green eyes barely even noticed Wyatt before sliding to Lucy. Wyatt looked distinctly uncomfortable as he turned to Lucy. “We’ll talk later. Have a goodnight, Lucy.”

“You too, Wyatt.” He gave Flynn a wide birth, sidestepping around him and exiting the room quickly. He didn’t spare Flynn a single glance.

Flynn set the tray down on the bed next to her and folded his arms behind his back, tilting his head down to look at her. “I fixed chicken noodle soup. It seemed to be one of the only not awful choices.”

She smiled. “Soup is great. Thank you.” She began to eat and he took his usual spot in the cushy chair, grabbing a book from the desk as he did. She noticed it as the one he’d been reading last week. It was thick, the binding worn and the pages dusty.

She loved the way old books smelled. It reminded her of the many nights spent in her parents’ study, her nose stuck in a book bigger than her face while Amy traipsed around the room, begging her to quit being a history nerd long enough to have some fun with her. Lucy looked away, overcome with the sudden emotion that always accompanied thoughts of Amy. She missed her kid sister like someone would miss a phantom limb. She did her best to refocus on the soup, knowing if she suddenly stopped eating Flynn would think something was wrong.

In spite of her lost appetite, Lucy finished the soup, setting the tray on the table beside the bed. Flynn shut the book he’d been reading and looked over at her. “Jiya gave you a clean bill of health, I’m assuming?”

“Yes. No sign of infection. Temperature is back to normal. She said the cut seems to be healing well, but I’m benched for at least two weeks. At least until the stitches are ready to come out.” Lucy bit her lip. “I hate being benched. I don’t like being stuck here while you guys are off God knows where... Maybe I can talk Jiya into benching me only for a week.”

“I would never tell you what to do, Lucy,” Flynn began carefully. “but I think it would be easier on your body if you took those full two weeks. We need our historian on these missions, I won’t deny that. But we need you at 100%.” He licked his lips. “I’d also like that chance to show you how to better defend yourself. So, what happened...doesn’t ever happen again.”

She sighed, considering his words. “If I take these two weeks off and I heal, can we start training immediately? I’m sick of being at a disadvantage against Emma. Against Rittenhouse.”

“We’ll train when you’re back to full strength. The stomach is a sensitive area to injury yourself. I don’t want you injuring yourself worse.” It was a promise but he was firm about waiting until she was physically ready. A beat of silence passed. “It... also wouldn’t hurt if Wyatt showed you a few things in self-defense. He has...more experience when it comes to being the smaller person in a fight.” He wasn’t insulting Wyatt. The request was genuine even if it looked like it cost a lost for him to say it.

She nodded. “Thanks, Flynn.” She almost forgot to tell him. “Oh, Denise requested a team meeting tomorrow. She wants an update on Emma’s movements.”

He grimaced. “Joy. I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear about Emma rebuilding Rittenhouse ranks.”

“We’ll get her, Flynn. It’s only a matter of time now.” Lucy was trying to be comforting, but they were all battle wary and sick of the destruction Emma was causing. She had a lot to answer for and Lucy planned on making her pay. It seemed Flynn and her took turns being the optimistic one in their dialogue.

He smiled wanly. “Yeah. Just a matter of time.” It was a strange way to put it. He stood up and took her dishes back to the kitchen, returning with a mug of her favorite peppermint tea for her and raspberry tea for himself. They both did their best to relax, finding solace in each other’s presence.

… to be continued …

Chapter Text

She could tell he had long since reached the point of exhaustion but the tension of the last few hours still had him wired. He was drinking his tea, reading his book, and trying to release the stress lingering in every muscle of his body. She sipped her own tea and settled back against the cot, silently watching him over the rim of her battered mug. If he noticed her gaze, he made no comment on it.

They really had come a long way from where they started. Lucy was spending time with a man the world knew as a terrorist and a traitor, but he was so far from that, so far removed, so much better than what everyone thought. She was cohabiting, sharing space and life with this giant, misunderstood of a broken man. This man who’d grown on her so intensely, made her give a damn about him while she wasn’t paying attention. He hadn’t been truly important to anyone in a long time but he was important to her. She’d find a way to make sure he knew that. He needed to know that he meant more than just as a weapon to be aimed and fired.

Lucy must have dozed off, lost in her thoughts, and she stirred slightly when she felt the mug being taken out of her hand. Her eyes fluttered open to find Flynn leaning over her with a blanket and a soft expression. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he answered, tucking the blanket around her. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you when your bandage needs changing.”

She caught his wrist when he began to pull away. “I know I probably sound like a broken record, but please stay.” He licked his lips and nodded, hesitating possibly less than he did the first time she asked.

He kicked off his shoes and slid onto the bed, between her and the wall. He leaned back against the concrete, laying on his side, intentionally giving her space. He smiled self-consciously at her, hair falling into his eyes. She chuckled and reached her hand out, seemingly without thought to brush the hair back off his forehead. He swallowed harshly and trembled a little under her touch. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, with his body. He looked like a fish out of water. He looked like a grizzly bear trying not to squash the flower in his hands.

“You matter, Garcia. You do. You matter to this team. You matter to me,” Lucy said, voice wavering like she was telling him a secret no one knew. Her feelings for him continued to take her by surprise.

He seemed to crack open at those words and a soft, sad keening noise came from deep in his throat. He grabbed the hand that still lingered on his face and gripped it for dear life, tight but not hurtful. “Lucy-” he broke off, at a loss for words.

“It’s okay,” she answered firmly, putting her other hand on the back of his head and tangling her fingers in his hair.

This intimacy they’d found in the dark, hiddenness of this little dingy box of a room wasn’t sexual or romantic in nature. They seemed to need each other like anyone that felt truly alone in the world needed another human being that understood. She was attracted to him, but it seemed to go so far beyond the possibility of sex and physical fulfillment. They got each other on an almost cosmic level that Lucy didn’t comprehend.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, moving to rest her forehead against his. His eyes fell closed and he took a deep breath, trying to take all that she was into himself, all that they were together.

“Thank you.” It was said so softly, practically a breath against her face. Their lips were inches apart and Lucy thought about leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Would he pull away if she did? Would she scare him off? Or would he kiss her back?

She didn’t think about it anymore, she just did it. Their mouths connected and he was completely at her mercy, letting her take the lead. He brought his hand to her cheek, brushed his thumb along her skin making her shiver and open her mouth to his tongue seeking entrance against her lips.

The kiss was everything she never thought a first kiss could be. It was soft, sweet, cautious, passionate, and explorative. She felt the respect he had for her in the way he touched her, kissed her like she was priceless. They pulled away to breathe, but she kept a hand tangled in his hair that was getting long enough to twirl her fingers in it.

“That was nice,” she whispered, smiling.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, stroking a long finger along her jaw. “Just nice?”

“Okay, it was amazing but I was trying not to give you too big of a head about it.” Her grin turned mischievous and she boldly kissed him lightly on the nose.

Flynn was watching her intensely now, suddenly assessing. He brushed the hair off her face and she leaned into his hand. “Lucy, was that kiss...just a kiss? I wouldn’t begrudge you if it was.”

He was giving her an out if she wanted it. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make her feel like she was trapped, manipulated by the intense feelings he had for her. He wanted it to be her choice, her decision, no strings attached, and he wanted her to be in a healthy enough place to make it.

She bit her lip. “What if I said it wasn’t just a kiss?”

Lucy didn’t know a lot of things about her life or where it was going, if she’d even survive. She did know that her and Wyatt were finally on the mend after he broke her heart and that she probably would always love him in her own way. She knew her mother’s last dying wish had been about indoctrinating her sooner. She knew that she’d had the chance to kill Emma in cold blood and how she’d pulled the trigger only for a cruel twist of fate to let Emma escape and Rufus to die instead.

She knew Jiya saved Rufus and that this team, this bunker full of broken people was the only family she had now and she’d be damned if she let anything bad happen to them again. She knew the man holding her had begun to mean more to her than she ever thought anyone could. He slipped into her heart while she wasn’t looking. Damn him and his green eyes.

“Garcia, I want this. I want you. I can’t tell you when it happened or why it did. I can only say that I need you, and I wouldn’t even know where to begin how to stop needing you. Not that I’d want to. Call it fate or whatever the hell you want, but this, being here with you, feels right, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

The pure, sharp joy that encompassed his face was breath taking. His green eyes might have even been a little wet as he gave her a wide, tender smile and brought his lips back to hers in a wordless answer to her confession.

God, Flynn would have waited forever to hear her say those words even if he’d begun to think it’d never happen. He was nearly bursting with the sheer amount of emotion he felt for her. This beautiful, fierce woman that he would do literally anything for. He grinned and kissed her forehead, feeling like a weight had finally been lifted off his chest and he could breathe deep again.

He whispered Croatian endearments and phrases into her hair, holding her against his chest, still careful of her healing wound. She relaxed into his embrace, pressing her nose into the fabric of his shirt and inhaling his calming scent. His fingers were gentle as they weaved in between the strands of her hair that was probably a hot mess right now.

“Lucy,” he said, later when they’d both almost fallen asleep.

“Hmm?” She could practically feel him thinking.

“I know I have no right to ask this but...could you take extra care on the missions? I know you are a competent, brilliant woman who is more than capable of handling herself, and I would never make it seem like I was taking your choices away or telling you what to do, but it would...ease my mind knowing that you’re taking extra precautions with your safety.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “I will be careful, but nothing is going to happen to me. I still have to write that journal. Okay?”

His mouth tightened. “You can’t promise that, Lucy. Look at all the things that happened that weren’t in the journal. People die all the time that weren’t supposed to, the journal doesn’t make you safe. This doesn’t work without you. This team won’t function without you. I won’t function without you. So please... for me.”

She softened at the torment in his eyes. “The same goes for you. I can’t do this without you either. I need you with me. So, don’t play the martyr and I won’t play the hero. Deal?” She brushed her fingertips across his lips.

“Deal.” He put his hand over hers, keeping it against his mouth as he kissed the pads of her fingers. They would be careful, more careful than they’d been before, now that they’d come to terms with what they meant to each other and how easily it could be taken away. Flynn would be damned if he let anything happen to Lucy, not now, not ever. He’d protect her, look out for her if it was the very last thing he did.

She saw his facial expression. “I know that look, Garcia. I mean it. We do this together as a team or not at all. You don’t get to shield me from everything awful in the world. You protect me and I protect you – that's how this works.”

“Alright.” He conceded her point after a long moment, but didn’t look particularly happy about it. They were a team, just like the journal said they would be. They were partners, equal in every sense of the word, but that wasn’t going to stop Flynn from being protective of her. It was an instinct he’d probably never be able to completely get rid of after everything he’d been through.

Lucy heard what he wasn’t saying, but where he was unbelievably protective, she was impossibly stubborn. She wasn’t going to let him take the brunt force of anything trying to harm them whether he liked or not. She’d learn how to better defend herself and by proxy learn how to better protect him. Protecting each other was always going to be a top priority for both of them and that was just how it was going to be. They’d both have to live with it and all the possible ramifications it brought.

She pressed her lips to his jaw and settled back against his chest once more, sighing deeply when one of his hands came to rest on her back. It wasn’t long before the warmth of his body and the sound of his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep.

…

Flynn woke first the next morning, carefully extracting himself from under Lucy, quickly becoming quite the expert at that, and opted to catch up on some reading until his bed companion finally stirred. He had a steaming mug of fresh coffee sitting on the table beside the cot when she slowly blinked awake and yawned rather adorably in his private opinion. She patted her unkempt hair self-consciously and offered him a shy grin.

They watched each other amiably in silence while drinking their coffee, content yet unsure of about what to do next. It wasn’t awkward, it was oddly sweet that they were both so far out of their depth. There was an odd sense of déjà vu, both remembering the last time they had been in similar positions. Only this time, Lucy was feeling something far different than the awkward embarrassment of before.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she said, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

He inclined his head, a soft look in his eyes. “Of course. Sleep okay?”

She nodded, her lips quirking upward. “Yes, I had a really great pillow.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He stood up from the chair, laying his dog-eared book on the desk. “How are you feeling?” His dark eyebrows pulling together as he examined her with intense eyes.

Lucy touched a careful hand to her healing wound, assessing. “It throbs still, but I think it’s better than it was.”

He licked his lip. “I can go get Jiya to change the bandages before I scope out breakfast.” His body shifted a little and he looked at her through his eyelashes. “Or I could change the bandages if you wanted...”

Always still so unsure of himself, of his status in her life, even if that had changed just in the last 24 hours. She took a deep breath, steeled herself and slowly got up out of the cot, a hand on her stomach even as he moved instinctively closer to her. She reached out, only hesitating for a second before she realized she was allowed to touch him now. Her hand rested against his cheek and she leaned up on her toes to place a kiss against his mouth.

Making a surprised ‘oomph’ noise against her mouth, he brought his hands to caress her face as he eagerly returned the kiss. He pulled away only to press his forehead to hers. She opened her eyes to see him already watching her, something akin to wonder in his eyes. “Is that a yes?”

She chuckled. “That’s definitely a yes.” A mischievous glint appeared in her gaze. “I think I might need help removing my shirt. You think you could help a girl out?”

He leaned back, arching an eyebrow at her as his lips quirked upward. “Are you coming onto me, Dr. Preston?”

“I think I might be.”

He grinned, fingers finding the hem of her shirt and teasing along her hips. “Ok, just making sure.” He silenced her gasp with his lips before he pulled back to kiss her hair and wrap her in a hug instead. She melted into him. There would be more than enough time for other things later. Her healing was his top priority right now and this blossoming thing between them wasn’t something he wanted to rush.

“I promise we’ll continue this when you are better. I don’t want to be responsible for you pulling your stitches out,” he said into her hair.

She sighed. “In that case, maybe you should get Jiya.” There was humor in her voice so he would know she was kidding.

A smirk touched his mouth and he dutifully took their coffee mugs to the kitchen and returned with fresh bandages, ointment, and more pain medicine. She watched, mesmerized by the swift, deft yet gentle way his long fingers worked and she remembered all the wars he’d been in since he was 15 years old. His file hadn’t been detailed but she knew enough to know that he most likely had too much practice when it came to patching up wounds. She supposed it was no different than Wyatt knowing his way around field injuries. She, Rufus, and Connor were the ones who couldn’t stand the mere sight of blood, let alone stitching or patching anyone up. Thank God, Jiya had the forethought to take classes online or at some point any one of them would probably be dead right now. Lucy had a lot to be thankful for.

Flynn finished up in no time and put the supplies away, bringing her yet another glass of water when he returned. He gave her a stern look when she wrinkled her nose at the prospect of having to drink even more fluids. “If you drink all your water, I could be persuaded to make some pancakes. I have it on good authority that Denise sent for groceries yesterday.”

She cocked her head. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I may or may not know the grocery schedule.” He rolled a shoulder and gave her a dimpled grin that made her heart stutter.

“Of course, you do.” She made a show of drinking all the water. “Now, how about those pancakes...”

He gestured to the door. “Lead the way.” She went to leave the room, but not before she reached back blindly for his hand and pulled him along with her.

…

Lucy was stirring batter in a bowl and Flynn was flipping pancakes on the griddle when Rufus poked his head around the corner to see what was going on, Jiya behind him and Wyatt down the hall, having come out of the bathroom.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Rufus asked his girlfriend.

“Flynn and Lucy making breakfast? Yes.”

Rufus shook his head, glancing sideways at Jiya. “No, I mean yes but – it's more than that. Don’t you think so? I can’t be the only one who’s noticed how close they’ve gotten. It’s weird but there’s no judgment or anything. I seriously couldn’t have guessed it. With all that’s happened between –” He saw Wyatt over Jiya’s shoulder and gave an awkward wave. “Oh hey, Wyatt.”

Wyatt looked between Jiya and Rufus, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up guys? What are we doing standing in the hallway?”

“Watching Flynn and Lucy cook breakfast. They’re being weird,” Rufus said, nodding his head in their direction.

“It’s not that weird,” Jiya argued.

“It’s a little weird,” Wyatt said, his mouth turning into a frown as he watched Lucy laugh at something Flynn said. One day maybe it wouldn’t sting to see that man of all people making her happy. Especially when it wasn’t Wyatt making her smile like that.

Jiya rolled her eyes. “They’re just making breakfast. You guys act like they’re doing something far more inappropriate than flipping pancakes. I’d say they could both use the light hearted activity of cooking. Plus, pancakes are freakin’ awesome.”

“Pancakes are pretty sweet,” Rufus agreed and grabbed Jiya’s hand. “Come on, let’s see if they’re up for sharing. Maybe we can talk Flynn into making some chocolate chip pancakes too.”

Rufus glanced back at Wyatt. “You coming, man?” Wyatt nodded after his eyes finally shifted away from Lucy and to his best friend.

Wyatt made a silent decision that he was going to make an effort to play nice with Flynn and not pick any fights, no matter how positively aggravating he could be. It would upset Lucy and Wyatt was more aware than ever these days of hurting her. He was going to work harder to fix the rift between them and he was determined to do whatever it took. If that meant being civil to freaking Garcia Flynn than he would.

Lucy smiled widely when Rufus and Jiya came into the kitchen, not hesitating to pull both of them into tight hugs. “Thank you, both of you for saving my life.”

“Of course, Luce,” Rufus said. “You know we have your back.”

“You’d have done the same for any one of us,” Jiya said, squeezing her friend gently back.

“Of course, I would’ve. This is more than just a team. We’re a family,” Lucy said firmly, meeting all of their gazes, even Wyatt, who’d just joined them. “All of us.” The last part was aimed at Flynn who had his back turned.

“I’m pretty sure I’m just the creepy uncle.”

“No, you’re not.” It was surprisingly Rufus who responded. “I was wrong before about you being the creepy uncle. You’ve graduated.”

Flynn glanced over his shoulder at the team. “Graduated to what exactly?”

Jiya spoke up next. “He means you’re one of us, Flynn. Not just the red-headed step child no one wants. Lucy isn’t the only one who wants you here. I want you here too.”

Rufus grinned at his girlfriend. “I second that.”

Lucy’s eyes watered as she watched what those words did to Flynn. Whether he realized it or not, they were breaking down his walls. Making him care when he hadn’t wanted to. Wyatt merely looked slightly uncomfortable at all the heartfelt talk, his gaze never straying far away from Lucy.

“Oh my God, I really love you guys,” Lucy said warmly, taking and squeezing Jiya’s hand and giving Rufus a tearful smile.

“We love you too, Luce.” Jiya tightened her grip on Lucy’s hand before letting go and turning back to Flynn. “Now, can we eat these pancakes or what? I’m starving.”

Flynn cracked a small smile. “Have at it.” The team grabbed plates and happily dug into the hot, delicious pancakes. Jiya was ecstatic when Flynn added chocolate chips to a few of the ones still cooking on the griddle. Connor joined the team a few minutes later after they’d all claimed seats at the table.

“Hmm, smells lovely. Don’t mind if I help myself,” Connor said, grabbing his own plate and adding pancakes to it. The inventor squeezed into a spot next to Rufus and Jiya, Lucy and Flynn on the opposite side and Wyatt on Lucy’s other side at the end of the table. Soon, they were all huddled close together, chattering away at each other like families do, even Flynn was letting himself be drawn into conversation with Rufus and Connor while Lucy watched her friends who had become her family with happy eyes.

Lucy realized that she was being observed by Wyatt as she rose to take her dishes to the sink and he silently got up and followed. He’d grabbed other empty plates and cups along with him in an effort to help clean up. “It’s nice to see them like that,” she said softly.

“Yeah, it is,” Wyatt admitted. They were both silent for a long moment as Lucy began scrubbing the dishes in the sink. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally settling on what to say. “Lucy, are you happy?”

She paused in her cleaning. “At this exact moment I believe I am happy. Are you?”

Wyatt honestly didn’t know quite how to answer. “I want to be. Sometimes I think I don’t know how. I lost that somewhere and I don’t know how to get it back.”

She looked over at him, brown eyes intense. “I believe you will get it back, Wyatt. You have to believe it too. Things don’t have to end badly.”

“You mean with us –” He shifted his feet and his heart skipped a beat.

“I mean with you and Jessica,” she cut across him but not meanly. Her expression was serious but full of understanding. “That ship hasn’t sank yet. You still have time to save it, but you need to decide what you want and then fight for it.”

He frowned. “I thought I wanted you.”

“You did want me, Wyatt. I know that, but you wanted Jessica even more and I never blamed you for that. I don’t know if you’re ready to see it or not, but you aren’t over her, Wyatt. Not by a long shot. Even after everything, you still love her and I’m sure you’d forgive her anything if she asked. You made a choice and you chose your wife, which is exactly as you should. She was the right choice.”

“But, Luce, what about us? I do love you. I do. I never meant to hurt you. Please, tell me how to make this right. I can’t go on with this wall between us. I need us to be okay.”

She wiped her hands on a towel and turned fully toward him. “We will be okay. You making an effort not to hurt me further and apologizing for what happened is a good start. I know you love me. I never thought you didn’t. What we had was real even if it didn’t last long. I love you too, Wyatt, and I probably always will in some way. You’ll always have a piece of my heart until the day I die and I’m learning to live with that.” Lucy stepped right up to him.

“But I need you to do something for me. I need you to quit teeter-tottering back and forth and choose. Decide whether or not, Jessica is worth fighting for and then do it. I know you’re beyond angry with her about the false-pregnancy but she did openly defy Rittenhouse and turn herself in just to show you that she would never do anything to harm you. In my book, that’s worth a little investigating. I wouldn’t give up on her just yet.”

He still looked so torn that she placed a hesitant hand on his cheek. “I choose to believe that everything is going to be okay. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

His face relaxed a little under her touch. “You are an amazing, one of a kind woman, Lucy Preston, and it is highly unlikely that I will ever forget it.” He had to face the facts that he’d probably always be just a little bit in love with her for the rest of his life.

She turned an adorable shade of pink and dropped her hand from his face. “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes good naturedly and bumped his shoulder.

“Flynn is a very lucky man. I hope he knows that.”

Lucy’s face grew serious instantly and her back stiffened. “First of all, I’m so not talking to you about this and second I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was Wyatt’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, Lucy. I have eyes. I see the looks he gives you – which is nothing new – only now you’re encouraging him with your own looks. Not to mention, how much time you’ve been spending together recently. I know there’s only one bed in that tiny little room so you two must be getting pretty cozy.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Careful, Wyatt, someone might think you’re jealous.”

He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t say that to pick a fight with you, Lucy. I only want you to be happy. I really mean that. If Flynn makes you happy than fine. Okay. It’s no secret I don’t like the guy but it doesn’t matter what I think. I realize that now. I’m sorry if I sounded like a jerk just now. I’m trying to be happy for you.”

She studied him for a long moment. “You really are trying, aren’t you?”

He seemed relieved that she was softening toward him again. “Yes, Lucy. I meant what I said about wanting to fix this chasm between us. I’ll do whatever I have to do even if I have to be happy about you and Flynn. Even though it will take me a while to get used to the idea of you two...together or whatever.” He held out his hand. “So, what do you say, Lucy Preston? Friends, again?”

She took his hand and shook it. “Friends again, Wyatt Logan.” He squeezed her hand once more before finally letting go.

He offered her a genuine smile that she returned. “Thank you, Lucy.” They stepped away from each other, noticing at the same time that the lounge and kitchen area had cleared out of everyone and they were completely alone. It was clear that the others had made an effort to give them privacy and they were both grateful.

“I’ll finish up the dishes. Go read a book or watch a movie or something.” He shooed her with his hand when she blinked at him in surprise. He really was making an effort to be more thoughtful and aware. It was a nice change in pace. She smiled, inclined her head and went in search of Flynn who’d most likely gravitated back to their room again.

She found him where he almost always was, in the old worn chair, leaned back and feet propped on the desk and his nose in a dusty book, reading. “Hey,” she said.

His eyes looked at her over the bridge of the book. “Hey.” Putting the book in his lap, he took her in fully with an unashamed watchful gaze. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, I think it is.” She knew he wouldn’t press unless she offered further detail. “I think Wyatt and I are going to be okay.”

His face was unreadable as he folded his hands together. “Happy to hear it.” She gave him an incredulous look and his eyebrows furrowed. “Truly, Lucy. I know how much that was upsetting you so I am genuinely happy to hear that it has been resolved.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, deciding to let it go. She decided to take Wyatt up on his suggestion to watch a movie and she wanted Flynn to watch it with her. She went to him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up out of the chair, not letting go of him. “I want to watch a movie and I want you to watch it with me.”

His lips curved into a smile and his eyes softened. “What do you want to watch?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“Again? Don’t you know the words to it?” If anything, he sounded infatuated with her rather than irritated.

She laughed and tugged him toward the door. “Oh, you know I have a thing for Gregory Peck.”

Flynn’s face screwed up. “Should I be jealous?”

Going up on her tip toes, she grinned and then pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, leaning into him and his strength and warmth. “Not at all. You have nothing to worry about.”

He returned her embrace, his lips in her hair, as they paused in the hallway just to hold each other without prying eyes. “Good.” It really was good, wasn’t it? Such a wonderful thing indeed. This bright and fierce and brilliant woman who’d stolen his heart and refused to give it back. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

END