1. Chapter 1 (1/2)
on the verge
"i suppose i have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. but these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really." - tennessee williams
"c'mon, lucy, pick up, dammit." for the tenth time in less than a half hour, wyatt tried to call her and at the sound of her voice mail (again), he scowled and swore viciously at his phone. where the hell was she? and why wasn't she answering her phone?
he'd just finished his verbal abuse of the device when rufus stuck his head in the lounge door where wyatt had been waiting on lucy to return.
"lucy around?" rufus asked casually. "lifeboat's almost charged, and i want to fine-tune the destination code for '79. i was hoping she had more specific information about where and when her parents are supposed to meet."
as the pilot walked into the lounge and looked at wyatt expectantly, the very pleasant feelings he had experienced after his conversation earlier with lucy about possibilities (before connor mason so rudely interrupted them) were beginning to dissolve into an sense of foreboding. there had to be a reason she wasn't responding to calls and texts. less than two hours ago, he'd been holding lucy close enough to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, savoring the fragrant softness of her hair tickling his chin. and now it was well past the hour she'd mentioned as she'd walked away from him.
his surprising despair at the a
upt realization that their takedown of rittenhouse meant the official end of his mission at mason industries and a return to pendleton - and no more lucy in his life - had been suddenly juxtaposed with an odd mix of exhilaration and apprehension at the faltering half admission that had tumbled impulsively from his lips after she'd sweetly thanked him for everything. his arms had tightened involuntarily around lucy as she'd sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder, and he'd
iefly closed his eyes at the unexpected strength of the hopeful, excited anticipation of exploring a future with her, something wyatt had thought he would never have a chance to feel again for a woman after losing jess.
distracted, wyatt ignored rufus, staring right through him before tapping his phone again and quickly
inging it to his ear. rufus frowned when wyatt was apparently forced to leave yet another message, "hey, it's me. it's been almost two hours since you left, and you're really starting to worry me here, so, please, please call me as soon as you get this."
once wyatt ended the call, rufus asked hesitantly, "what's going on? where's lucy?" but before wyatt could formulate a response, without warning, the lounge door was thrown open by a harried agent christopher, accompanied by two guys in nondescript black suits, neither of whom he'd ever seen before.
dread ran cold through wyatt's veins; something had to be terribly wrong. "is it lucy? did something happen to her?" wyatt demanded.
christopher shook her head impatiently and replied, "what? no, i haven't seen lucy in hours. we have a situation, wyatt. rittenhouse has
oken into the warehouse where the mothership was hidden and stolen it;" pausing for a moment, she then took a deep
eath before gravely informing the teammates that the eight homeland security soldiers who had been standing guard over the ship had been slaughtered.
rufus looked as stunned and sick as wyatt felt, and wyatt instantly understood that all of them had foolishly, catastrophically underestimated rittenhouse, and as a result, eight of his fellow soldiers were dead, costly collateral damage of the shadow organization's insane quest to rewrite history in service to their own dangerous vision for the world. the dread he'd been experiencing over lucy's troubling lack of response in the last hour bloomed into full-blown panic, and he closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow, measured
eaths and concentrate on her. devastating as this latest turn of events was, she was his first priority, and if he was being completely honest with himself, she had been for a while now, every since his escape from the black site after the ill-fated trip to 1983 cleveland.
"wyatt!" he opened his eyes to see christopher staring at him with barely-concealed irritation, "did you hear what i just said? i've called for an emergency team meeting in ten minutes, and i need both of you there."
wyatt glanced at rufus, who nodded almost imperceptibly, and responded firmly, "i'm sorry, ma'am, but, respectfully, rufus will have to fill me in later because i can't stay for the meeting. there may be a situation with lucy. she left on an errand earlier, and not only has she been gone longer than we anticipated, but she's also not answering her phone, and i'm getting concerned." and concerned was an enormous understatement, of which the agent was probably well aware.
he stoically returned her astute glance, and managed to temper his visible relief when she eventually shrugged and retorted, "i imagine it would do me no good to argue with you?" a corner of her mouth lifted
iefly at his emphatic, "no, ma'am," before warning him, "well, get going then, master sergeant, and make sure you keep me informed, understood?" with that, agent christopher quickly left the lounge, the two nsa suits silently falling in line behind her.
rufus started to leave also, and at the doorway, turned around and soberly requested, "hey, that goes for me too. as soon as you hear from lucy, text me, okay?" pointing a thumb down the hallway, his friend shrugged and said ruefully, "i better get to that meeting. good luck, wyatt."
wyatt practically
oke a land speed record (and definitely more than one traffic ordinance) on the drive to carol preston's address, an impressive feat considering today was only the second time wyatt had ever been there. he forced the painful memories of that particular visit from his mind, preferring to keep his focus on the present situation and the possibilities they'd just barely begun to discuss. pulling into the empty driveway beside the stately home that was located on a quiet, affluent street, his heart sank. not only was there no sign of lucy's car, but the house itself was completely dark. where the hell was she?
for the
iefest of seconds, he felt like punching the steering wheel, and struggled to keep his growing fear and apprehension in check. inhaling deeply, wyatt pulled out his phone and tried calling her cell again. he cursed anew at the sound of her voice mail. where in the world had lucy been since she left mason this afternoon? could she have gone somewhere with her mother? or possibly gone to see a colleague at stanford?
a wholly unwelcome thought danced around the edges of his mind, one that he absolutely did not want to consider, even fleetingly. but here he sat in her mother's driveway, frustrated, worried, and clearly running out of options. mentally gritting his teeth, wyatt let himself entertain the unlikely possibility that she could be with noah, and even the vaguest suggestion of lucy walking away from him and their promising, though somewhat unsatisfying, conversation and going straight to meet the arrogant doctor made wyatt sick.
a
uptly, his phone rang, and dizzy with relief, wyatt nearly dropped it in his eagerness to answer. it was lucy. hastily swiping to answer, he tried valiantly (and almost certainly failed) to suppress the frantic edge to his voice when he replied, "lucy, thank god, where are you? are you okay?" but there was only silence from her in response. the hell? he pulled the phone from his ear, thinking maybe they had gotten disconnected. then he heard a barely audible sniffle, "lucy?" he prompted gently.
there was another sniff, before she asked in a quavering, hesitant voice, "can you, um, can you come get me, please, i, uh, probably shouldn't drive..."
unable to stop himself, wyatt interrupted, "what? why shouldn't you drive? are you alright? did someone hurt you? please, tell me what's wrong."
he held his
eath when she emitted what sounded suspiciously like a soft hiccup before haltingly answering, "i'm okay, i guess. please, can you just-can you come, please? i need you."
well, hell. in their world, i need you was right up there with i trust you, so he swallowed his impatience and replied, "of course. where are you?"
another lengthy pause hung between them, during which wyatt figured he might be losing his mind right along with his composure, before she very quietly confessed, "portola's."
what the fuck? he'd been almost beside himself with worry, and she'd been five minutes away from him the whole time at a fucking bar?
involuntarily, his temper started to flare, and wyatt winced slightly once he heard the accusing edge to his voice that he can't seem to control. "are you drunk?" he asked incredulously. "jesus, that's what was so important for you to do that you walked away from me when we were..." he trailed off, forcing himself to stop right there, unwilling to betray any of his newly-realized feelings.
"no," lucy mumbled. "well, yes, and i'm sorry, you have no idea how sorry, but just, please, wyatt?"
naturally, despite his anger and disappointment, wyatt found himself unable to deny her anything. plus, it was starting to sink in that something about her voice was off. she sounded pretty shaken actually, enough so that his anger and annoyance started to fade, and with a clearer head, wyatt was beginning to comprehend that something must have really upset her, and he was worried for lucy all over again.
"lucy, you still there? don't move, i'm on my way. five minutes," he ordered, and ending the call, wyatt threw his truck in gear and sped away from carol preston's darkened house. four minutes later, he pulled into the nearly empty lot, crookedly parking in the first space he found. it was scant consolation that at least lucy chose a place she was familiar with, one located only a few minutes away from mason industries. for months, the team had been patronizing the bar after their missions (especially the particularly hellish ones), and most of the bartenders were accustomed enough to seeing the three of them and jiya that if some asshat had tried to bother a getting-drunk-all-by-herself lucy, they would have stepped in.
just the thought of some stranger getting all handsy with a possibly ine
iated lucy pissed him off all over again, and wyatt made a mental note to let the bartender know that if she made the mistake of ever trying something like this in the future, then the staff was to notify him immediately (although that seemed highly unlikely, considering he was this close to just never letting her out of his sight again).
wyatt slammed through portola's front door, perhaps with a bit more force than was necessary, not that he gave a rat's ass. scanning the dimly-lit room, he exhaled a profound sigh of relief at the sight of her slender figure perched somewhat haphazardly on a high stool at the end of the bar, crying quietly, and - thank you, god - she was alone. he was in no mood to be tempted by the need to rearrange the face of some drunk idiot who dared try and touch her.
three long strides
ought him to her side, and wyatt gratefully pulled lucy from the bar stool and enveloped her trembling body in his arms in one fell swoop.
alarm and concern mingled with confusion as he tried to figure out what could have happened in just a few short hours to upset her so, because this kind of behavior was completely out of character for lucy preston.
"what's wrong?" what happened? lucy?" he murmured against her soft hair, but she didn't respond, just cried harder. at a loss, wyatt looked up, and recognizing the bartender (mark? matt?), shot him a quizzical glance, but the guy only shrugged and made a gesture to indicate that lucy had knocked back a few. sighing in frustration, wyatt managed to get his wallet out with one hand while still holding lucy with the other. and, throwing down a couple of twenties on the bar, he gently steered lucy toward the door.
once they'd made it outside, standing beside his truck, wyatt pulled lucy into another hug, relieved that she seemed to be calming down a little. after a long moment, she lifted her head from his shoulder and sighed. leaning back in his arms, she self consciously swiped at her wet face. under the
ight parking lot lights, wyatt finally got his first good look at her, all flushed cheeks and dark, tear-soaked eyes, smelling of alcohol, and his anxiety began to rise again. "hey, hey, it's alright. i'm here now," wyatt soothed her. "and i really need you to tell me what's going on, okay?"
she swallowed hard, and unable to meet his concerned gaze, looked past him and admitted softly, "it's my mom, she told me - my mother is rittenhouse."
wyatt was utterly dumbfounded by the revelation; could the day possibly get any worse? he stared in shocked disbelief at lucy for a moment before pulling her back into his arms as her eyes welled up again.
holding her closely and glancing over her narrow shoulder around the parking lot, wyatt's instincts kicked in as he realized how vulnerable they were out in the open if rittenhouse really was on the loose. "i think we better go, it's probably not safe for us to be hanging around here," he murmured into her hair as she sniffled and nestled closer to him. unfortunately, their choices were somewhat limited. obviously, she couldn't return to her mother's house, and he hadn't heard anything further from rufus or agent christopher, so wyatt decided to take lucy to his place. "c'mon, let's get out of here. i'm taking you back to my apartment, okay?" at her slight nod, he reluctantly stepped back to help her into the passenger side of his truck before hurrying around the front and getting in.
starting the truck, wyatt hastily texted rufus that lucy was with him, and asked if he would inform agent christopher. he glanced over at lucy sitting quietly as she stared out the window, fresh tears slipping from her eyes, and his heart ached at the lost, defeated expression on her face. it was even worse than when lucy realized she had forgotten her sister's birthday. what a hellish nightmare this must be for her on top of losing amy, and coming on the heels of learning that benjamin cahill, the rittenhouse prick who had been pulling strings behind the scenes for months now, was actually her biological father. impulsively, before he could stop himself, wyatt reached over to take her small, clammy hand in his. she remained silent for the short drive, save for the occasional sniffle.
pulling into his regular parking space at home, wyatt turned off the truck and rushed to open lucy's door and help her get out, placing a firm hand under her elbow when she wobbled and shyly whispered her thanks. leading her inside, he was somewhat surprised when, after clumsily shrugging out of her jacket and dropping it on the floor, she immediately headed for his kitchen to stare intently at his cabinets. moving to the fridge, wyatt pulled out a
ita pitcher, and grabbing a glass, poured her some water.
"here, i've got water," he offered.
she just ignored him and began opening his cabinet doors, muttering, "don't want water. where's your whiskey, or scotch, or whatever?"
hastily setting down the pitcher, wyatt reached for her arms, and gently tugged her toward him, cautioning, "i think that's the last thing you need right now..." of course, it's the truth, but he still ended up feeling like a total dick when her dark eyes welled up and she began to sob again in earnest.
"i can't - i can't stop seeing her face, hearing her - i need to just..." she whimpers.
her palpable anguish practically
oke wyatt's heart. and unfortunately, he was more than familiar with the desire, hell, the need, to drink away the pain, and he hated seeing her like this.
pulling her close, he unthinkingly pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. lucy froze, and leaning back, studied his face, eyes searching as she absently swiped away her tears. worried that he'd crossed a line, wyatt was stunned when, without warning, lucy pushed up on her toes to kiss him.
instinct took over, and he kissed her back - the kiss they surely would have shared that afternoon at mason industries had they not been interrupted.
lucy responded eagerly, and she felt so warm and sweet and willing that it didn't even register right away that she was still drunk and therefore vulnerable, until the tip of her tongue boldly teased his lower lip and wyatt tasted the lingering alcohol. he pulled back regretfully, because as badly as he'd wanted this, wanted her, it couldn't be like this. "lucy...wait..." he murmured.