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"Damn it!"
Lucy watched how the button she held in her hand fell and didn't stop rolling until it disappeared under Flynn's bed. She was right by mending one of Flynn's shirts which lost a button. Flynn wanted to handle it himself, but she volunteered because it felt good to do such a peaceful, mundane task for once. And the shirt had a comforting Flynn-scent, which was to her liking she had to admit.
She walked to the bed and peeked under it for the button. She found it but also something else. A shoebox. It's lid slid a bit off. "What is he hiding in this one? A cockroach?". Lucy mused aloud.
She wanted to slide the lid in its place and return to mending the shirt, but in the last second, she saw that some papers were peaking out of it and the writing seemed very old. The historian in her couldn't resist; she had to have a look. Just a quick one. She sat down on the floor and pulled the box to herself. When she lifted the lid, she was utterly confused. There were folded papers, yes, but also some pieces of jewellery, a pencil, some textil... all seemed somehow familiar but... Lucy took the paper in her hand which peeked out.
It was printed but with some notes in familiar handwriting. It was like a page of a very old playscript. It cannot be... What the... Lucy wrinkled her brow.
"You shouldn't have seen those", said Flynn behind her back and she jumped. She looked up with guilt, but the guilt on Flynn's face was even more profound.
"Is this really a page with John Wilkes Booth's notes, from THAT play?" Lucy asked, shocked.
Flynn nodded like a scolded child, then sat on his bed, his hand raking his hair.
"WHAT are these items doing by you?" Lucy asked.
"I took them... as souvenirs. OK, I practically stole them.", Flynn admitted looking down at the floor.
"You did what?" Lucy wished to stomp, but she was sitting.
"From our missions" Flynn continued embarrassed. "Well, some weren't OUR missions, as we wanted to kill each other that time, but... yeah. " Could the floor open? he thought.
Lucy just shook her head.
"What are these anyway?" she asked, randomly picking up items.
"That is Santa Ana's signet ring", said Flynn, then "Capone's cufflink. That's a key from Houdini. A page from Fleming. "
Lucy was more and more shocked. She picked up the textile.
"And this?"
"One headscarf of Harriet Tubman", came the surprising answer.
When Lucy took a simple pencil in her hand, pain ran through Flynn's handsome face. "My mother drew with that."
Lucy gasped and put it gently back. There were many more items, but there was just one question in her head.
"Why?"
Flynn was silent for a long time. He cleared his throat.
Lucy got up and sat beside him.
Flynn avoided her eyes while he answered.
"For you. As a goodbye gift. I wanted to give this to you after Rittenhouse is defeated and I have to disappear from your life. " He sighed. "From your journal and every single word you said since I know you, I know that history is not your job. It is your passion; it's your life. I have no idea if these things have any scientific value or not, I just wanted to give you something that maybe puts a smile on your face, and then perhaps you won't remember me as a monster. "
He stared down at his hand and saw and felt that Lucy took it in her hand.
"You are not a monster, Garcia Flynn. You are a FRIEND, one who knows me better than the most. And you can't disappear from my life, do you understand?"
She squeezed his hand and Flynn had to admit to himself he couldn't leave her anymore. Not even if he wanted to.