#the hands are inescapable and so is my desire to see alternative clothes on every single lifesteal member at least once

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

princezam in trad goth makeup. roshambogames with corpsepaint. there is corn starch all over the team awesome base and mapicc keeps having coughing fits

[verai-marcel]

Inescapable Rapture (RDR2 Fanfic, Ch. 2 of 5, 18+ ONLY)

Tags, Warnings, & Summary are here at Chapter 1

Find it on AO3 too.

Chapter 2: Anytime, Anywhere

WC: 2447

Notes: It gets darker.

Every night, Arthur took control of your body, making you feel like a rag doll in his arms. You learned that he demanded complete obedience in bed; anything less got you edged to the point of insanity. Anytime he called you ‘kitten’, you knew it was time to be his submissive little pet. And after you came screaming into the night, he cleaned you up, gently tucking you into his arms, and held you like his precious treasure.

Being his sex toy was the majority of your time at his home. He often took over cooking and cleaning if you looked tired, and would sit you in his lap every night for dinner. You had wondered if he’d ever get another chair, but didn’t ask again after the first time. You had gotten spanked for that question, and then bent over the only chair and fucked until you sobbed from all the times he made you release.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day, and you were restocking all of the doctor’s cabinets, bustling around the office, carrying supplies from the basement. The doctor had just left for a house call, and mentioned that he was going to be gone the rest of the afternoon, as he was going to visit several houses in the same vicinity, and they were all an hour’s ride away. He reminded you to lock up after you left for the day, and to make sure all the supplies that had arrived were all sorted, and any cabinets upstairs were restocked.

So when Arthur came sauntering into the office, shutting the door behind him and locking it, you immediately stood up and tried to shoo him out so you could get your work done.

“Doctor might come back any minute,” you lied, trying to walk around him to unlock the door.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and walked you backwards, your hip bumping the edge of your desk.

“What did I tell you about lying to me, kitten?”

Your eyes glazed over and you felt a jolt of heat straight between your legs. It had been less than a week, but your body was already trained to react to his pet name for you

“I saw the doctor a little while ago. I know he’ll be gone the rest of the day.” He reached for your neck and slowly pushed you down on your desk. Following you down, his face was close to yours as he caressed your throat with his thumb. He leaned in and kissed you languidly, taking his time to taste you. With each passing moment, he lulled you into a haze of desire, his hands unbuttoning your blouse so he could touch your breasts and tease your nipples. He dipped his head down to suck and lightly bite them, making you whimper. You bit down on your knuckles, trying to stop yourself from being too loud.

“You’ll give up your body to me whenever I want, ain’t that right?”

You looked away. Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look at him.

“I said, ain’t that right?”

You tried to wrench yourself free from his grasp, but he was strong as steel, and finally you quietly said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now lift up your skirt for me.”

Doing as you were told, you lifted up your skirt and took your drawers off. Smiling at you, he unbuttoned his fly and stroked himself before sliding himself along your wet slit, lubing himself up with your slick. Then he eased himself inside of you while rubbing your clit, and you mewled with pleasure. He clamped his hand around your mouth.

“Don’t want anyone knowin’ you’re gettin’ fucked during business hours, do ya?”

You shook your head.

“Thought so. Gonna fuck you hard, so maybe I should keep my hand over your slutty mouth.”

You nodded.

And he started to move, shoving himself deep inside of you, making you writhe under him as he alternated between rubbing your clit and teasing your nipples, all the while keeping his other hand over your mouth.

It was so wrong, getting railed on your work desk, but Arthur didn’t care; he had the power to take you, anywhere, any time he wanted to. But despite that, you took comfort in the fact that he'd never let anyone see you like this. He was viciously protective of you; one night as he was taking you home, a drunkard had catcalled at you, and you had to pull Arthur back from beating the daylights out of him.

“My darlin’ pet,” he whispered lovingly in your ear as he defiled you. He took your hand and guided it to your clit. “Take your pleasure, kitten.”

You started rubbing yourself, undulating under him as you brought yourself to completion, your moans muffled by his big hand around your mouth. You convulsed as you came, biting down on his hand, and digging into his arm with your free hand, making half moon marks on his skin from your nails.

As your movements slowed and your body relaxed, he pulled out of you, breathing heavily as he stepped back, leaving you empty and a little cold without his warmth surrounding you. He walked away, looking through the cabinets for something. You saw that he was still hard; what could he be doing?

Then he found what he was looking for, and walked back to you, a sly grin on his face. You saw the jar of balm and tried to get up, but you were too limp from your climax earlier.

He folded your legs back. “Hold them right there,” he said, and you held yourself in position, your ass exposed for him. He took a big dollop of balm and started smearing it on his fingers and around your rear hole.

“Wha.. Why?” you asked, your mind still a little foggy.

“Ain't no one had you here?” Arthur asked as he gently cupped your cheek, stroking you.

“No…”

He grinned, a wolfish demeanor taking over his features.

“Good. All mine.” He started to work a finger inside you, and you gasped at the unfamiliar feeling. The balm helped, as he began sliding & stretching you out, enough that he could get a second, then a third finger in you, calming you with hushed murmurs. You tried not to wriggle, but it felt strange and you said as much.

“Just breathe, girl. Breathe,” he crooned, and you did as he asked, relaxing your body and letting him take control. You felt him remove his fingers, heard more balm being slathered around his dick, and felt the head of him start to push into you.

“Ah–” you started to cry out, but Arthur immediately stuffed his bandana into your mouth, smothering your sounds as he slid inside of you. He leaned over and slowly moved, slower than you thought possible for him.

“If it hurts, I mean really hurts, you let me know by tappin’ my arm four times, alright?”

You nodded. He was giving you a safe way out.

“Okay. Trust me.”

You nodded again.

He gently eased his way in and out of you, until your body adjusted to his invasion. As your muscles relaxed, he started to play with your clit once more, bringing you back to the edge of ecstasy. You were feeling like a whore, and somewhere along the way you stopped caring, it felt so good.

When he pulled out of you, a soft whine escaped your throat. Arthur murmured assurances to you as he flipped you over onto your stomach. You gasped, dropping his bandana as he thrust back into your ass, grabbing your arms and using them as reins as he rode you hard into the desk. Your moans grew louder, and he leaned over, forcing his fingers into your mouth, at the same time shoving two fingers into your pussy, fucking you in all of your holes at once.

“Remember this feelin’. You belong to me. Every scream, every release, all of it, is mine.”

You could only make an affirmative noise as you sucked on his fingers. He groaned as he felt your tongue on his skin and sped up. His thrusts became erratic as he got close to his own release. You felt his labored breathing, hot against your ear. Shutting your eyes tight, you felt your body let go again, drooling around his fingers and moaning as you spasmed under him. Your wanton reaction triggered him, and Arthur gave a final hard thrust before releasing deep inside of you, gasping and cursing into your ear.

You both stayed still for a few moments, just breathing, before Arthur slowly let go of you. He took his bandana and wiped the drool from your face. You lay there, feeling his spend dripping down your thigh, your pussy sore from his previous fuck, and you felt thoroughly used. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling, you thought.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered reverently. “Your eyes, glazed over, and your body, covered in my marks.” He bent down and kissed your temple.

You heard him go to the sink and clean himself, and he eventually came back with a cloth and cleaned up the mess between your legs.

“Git your clothes back on,” he gently ordered, and you did, gingerly reaching down for your drawers. You slowly put yourself back together, with his help. He buttoned up your blouse, helped you put your hair back somewhat in place. You felt sore from how hard you had been used today.

Once you seemed presentable, you looked at Arthur, waiting for his next move. He pulled you into a tight embrace and mumbled your name lovingly into your hair.

“I’ll clean ya fully when we get home. And I'll give you a massage tonight, alright?”

You looked up at him and blinked, surprised.

“That was rough. You goin’ to be sore later.”

You could already feel it. You wanted to sleep, but you needed to finish cleaning up the office. You tried to step away, but he just picked you up and sat you on your desk again.

“I'll take care of the rest. You just relax,” he said as he moved to get a broom and started sweeping. You told him everything else that needed to be put away, and just watched him work. He hummed a song, just for you, and the soft, low tone of his voice relaxed your body, made you sleepy.

Arthur finished cleaning and picked you up from the desk. Carrying you in his arms like you weighed nothing at all, he took you outside and put you on his horse.

“Let's go home, princess.”

That night, he cooked for you after he washed you carefully, like he was afraid of breaking you. After taking you so roughly in the office, you were thrown off by how incredibly gentle he was being. Feeling in a daze, you just let him take care of you, wondering when you became so docile and when he became so soft. During dinner, he perched on the table and let you sit in the chair, eating and joking with you about what he had seen during his patrols today. You told him about a couple of patients that the doctor had let you treat, and he listened attentively, appreciating your enthusiasm for learning about medical care.

All the past nights, you two had polite small talk, but it had always been a little strained, knowing that he would take you to his bedroom right after. It had been nothing like this. You felt more at ease, and spoke more naturally than you had before. Something about tonight had eased the beastly aura that had surrounded Arthur since that night in the jail cell.

While you sat in the one chair, watching him clean up after dinner, you finally felt like you could ask him something that had been on your mind for the past four days.

“Why me?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve seen women practically throw yourself at you. Women much more… ladylike than me.”

Arthur sighed and put away the last clean dish. He came back and sat on the edge of the table, leaning closer to you and cupping your cheek.

“You ain’t like them. The first time we met, you looked at me with them sharp eyes of yours, and I wanted more of you. You ain’t some dull-witted, doe-eyed girl. You’re… a real woman. You’re smart and you’re loyal. The doctor says you work hard, you’re dedicated to your patients, makin’ sure everyone gets what they need.” He paused, looking straight into your eyes. “And I want that in a woman.”

That answer well and truly confused you. If that was why he liked you, then why was he…?

“I can see the wheels turnin’ in your head. Speak your mind.”

“Why do you treat me the way you have been?”

Arthur leaned back with his hands against the table and looked down. “I have this… need, to be in control. When my blood gets hot, I just… I don't know how to explain. You're the only thing I can see.” He looked back up at you. “I'm a very possessive man. Those other girls in town? They just want to be coddled. They’d throw me away the second they knew what I’m really like. You got another question?”

“What makes you think I won’t run if I get the chance?” you asked.

“You would have by now,” he said confidently. “You would’ve figured somethin’ out despite me bein’ a ranger. I’d chase you, sure. But you’d outrun me eventually. You know it.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve done that if you really wanted to get away. But deep down, part of you longed for his touch; something in the way he held you made you feel safe.

“Anyway, you said you'd be mine for two weeks. You don't seem like the kind of person to go back on their word.”

He leaned down and kissed your cheek before standing up and holding his hand out to you. You took it and followed him to the bedroom, wondering if he was going to go back on his word. But he just had you lay on your stomach as he rubbed your sore muscles. When he was done, he tucked you into his arms and kissed your forehead. Looking into your eyes, he whispered your name. You liked the way your name sounded, coming so adoringly from him. He kissed you on the lips oh so softly, and hummed quietly as he pet you until you fell asleep.

----------------------

Part 3 is here.

[talix18]

November 2

I just want a word processing program. I'm not trying to be difficult. A word processing program that will estimate for me how many words I've written. Which requires a computer Operating System to run said program, preferably with an Internet connection in case there are updates to said program. The computer on which I'm typing this is an unknown number of years old. I know I got it when my ex lived with me, and he's been dead for several years.

That's a hazard of loving people in recovery, especially from drug addiction as opposed to alcoholism. The drugs out there are not those of your elders and they are nowhere near as forgiving of overdoses. My ex became my ex when he relapsed. A couple of years later he got some fentanyl with his heroin and it killed him. Drugs are bad, mmkay?

Anyway, the computer. I am...working with an OS that's 10 years old and have 6 gigs of RAM. (That's before I stuck my 2 gig thumb drive in to use as extended memory.) I'm clearly fighting hard for something to write about here. I'd rather get this done early in the day so I don't have to dread it, but writing about myself is almost as tedious as being myself.

Today is a good day, so far. I made it out the door to yoga and got my eyebrows done on the way home. Eyebrow waxing is my only consistent beauty practice. I'd like to keep up with my hair and not just put it up wet every day but let's face it – I'm stingy with my time and money and can't commit to something eight weeks from now. My hair is going gray and makes me look my actual age, which I alternately don't care about and am horrified by. Now I have extra guilt doing home color – my adopted niece graduated from Paul Mitchell hair school and would happily accept my money for getting to practice on my head, but she's located just far enough away to be inconvenient.

Plus getting out of bed is hard enough. I'll gladly take 15 extra minutes to check the Internet that will still be there when I get to work over putting on make-up and drying my hair. Is this about depression, laziness, or feminist resistance to society's expectations? I'd like to have fun with my appearance and my wardrobe but dammit – do I have to start so bless-ed early in the morning?

(This whole “early in the morning thing” is BS, by the way. I learned how quickly I can get myself showered, dressed, and out the door at my most depressed and now resist any attempt to plan further in advance.) Yes, I want to look nice in pictures but I don't want to do the work necessary to achieve that.

This is a theme in my life – there's a lot of things I want to do and be without taking any of the steps that might lead me in the correct direction. Sometimes it's a question of not knowing what those steps might be. Recovery has blessed me with the crazy notion of finding someone who has (or knows how to do) something you want (to know how to do) and ask them how they did it. I'm not sure if this is as mind-blowing to everyone as it was to me. It may be one of those things that falls into the category of “it feels like I missed some fundamental How To Be A Person class that everyone else took.”

This is a common feeling among recovering people. None of us feels like we fit in; everyone else knows something we don't; we are missing some fundamental quality that would have made life fall neatly into place. (Which brings me to the topic of the people who just needed to put the drugs down and be pointed in a productive direction vs. people who are still disasters clean. Guess which group I fall into.) Which reminds me! Last night the Internet gave me the link to an article in Oprah's magazine that describes the midlife-crisis currently hitting the women of Generation X. So this here writing project? Completely unnecessary. But I've set this challenge for myself and I love no motivation like shame and guilt. So I'll keep writing and see what I end up with.

Where was I? Oh – the things I want without wanting to do the work to get them. I've always wanted to play guitar but only enough to take a handful of lessons. My last attempt was valiant – I bought myself a beautiful guitar and showed up pretty consistently for group lessons at a friend's house. After a few months, there was pain in my strumming arm almost constantly. Especially painful were things like gripping the scoop I use to clean litter boxes, which is a thing I try to do every day. I went through physical therapy twice before the pain went away, and it's still not completely gone. My intention is to go to the adorable guitar shop where I bought my guitar (where they also give lessons) and ask someone (who knows how to do something I want to know how to do) if there is a way I should be doing it differently. That has been my intention for many months now.

What is it? What is the problem? 1. Think of a thing to do. 2. DO THE THING. That's it, right? There's not some 1.5 secret step I'm missing? There must be. Unless this is that executive function thing they talk about? There are the things I know I want to do (currently: clearing out yet more of my wardrobe so I can get rid of my TWO broken dressers [why do I have two broken dressers?] and acquire a new piece of storage for my clothing; taking my books off the bookshelves so they can be moved and I can get new flooring and also get rid of some books)(besides the regular stuff like exercise and eat foods that make me look and feel good and learn how to program and garden and oh maybe clean my damn house) and there is the crushing lack of motivation and energy.

(I'm thinking this whole NaNoWriMo thing coincided with an increase in the dosage of one of my meds which has given me a temporary “up” sensation? Like I sat through my laptop trying to repair itself so I could write rather than wandering off and doing something [or nothing] else. Honestly, me getting a thing done sooner rather than later is not a thing. I still haven't emptied the litter boxes from yesterday.)

(It occurs to me at this point to wonder if my expectations aren't set unrealistically high. Hi, my name is Teri and I was in Gifted & Talented classes and was told I had Such Potential, and have done no impressive or soul-fulfilling thing with my life. Welcome to my expectations. Not to mention this existential dread that I didn't even have words for until college when I took philosophy and learned that existentialism is a thing. This is my ONE opportunity to be alive and ultimately the only rules are those I choose to follow and This is what I've done with it? This is my life?)

(Which brings me to capitalism, specifically late-stage capitalism. I was born to the grandchildren of farmers and immigrants without the financial means to pick and choose which hobbies would distract me from my inescapable death. I watched my mother survive two divorces and [unbeknownst to myself] decided that I would be able to take care of myself. I wouldn't depend on anyone else for lodging or food or miscellaneous entertainments; I would do it myself. [This has a lot to do with why I am Single. Unmarried. Don't get too close – you may offer to take care of me and I might weaken and let you and then my guard will be down and then life will have me where it wants me.]

Late-stage capitalism. In which I, a consumer, trade my time and energy for money, which I then trade for comfort, convenience, and distraction from the awareness of my inescapable death. Knowing that, sooner or later, NONE OF THIS WILL MATTER bumps up against my desire to look younger and be attractive and matter in some absolute sense. I have a “safe” government job [thanks, Dad] with good insurance which is a Big Deal when you have a chronic condition like mental illness. I have a small home, a car that's paid for and still runs, and two cats for whom I am responsible. That there are no children is partly on purpose; partly because I never wanted to be a single mom, and partly because I didn't meet their other parent while I was young and foolish enough to consider parenting.)

Where was I? Expectations. In recovery, expectations are set-ups for resentments. Hmm. I may have to think about that. If nothing matters, expectations are silly. There are no shoulds. There Is No Way To Derive An Ought From An Is. (My favoritest of all the things I learned in philosophy.) Except that my best idea, recreational drug use, got me in legal trouble, put everyone else at risk, and (now that they know about it) makes my loved ones worry about my health and well-being. So it benefits all of us that I remain clean. And it increases the likelihood that I'll stay clean if I treat my mental illness, which requires (in this ever more dystopian hellscape) money and/or insurance. Which requires a job. Which is easier to maintain if I have a safe place to sleep and food and clothing. All of which requires effort to maintain. We haven't even mentioned recycling and volunteering and staying informed about the current state of the ever more dystopian hellscape. There are a lot of plates to keep spinning, despite the fact that eventually they are all going to shatter and it won't ultimately matter to anyone who will endure. (Existentialism is heavy.)

But haha! Daily word count achieved! Now I can get my active minutes in (exercise boosts both physical and mental health) and figure out how much time I have before I need to be where I'm supposed to be next. Because social activities and meetings make living more meaningful. Lather, rinse, repeat.

[backpackingfemale-blog]

Backpacker Advice - Safety and also Security

female safety items during travel

My goal is to start by simply saying, that I privately have never had any kind of basic safety or security difficulties even though travelling - different than using a bottle connected with half clear shower serum going absent after My partner and i left it inside the bathtub (I was gutted! ). If you follow simple advice and use your personal sound judgment then neither must you.

female safety items during travel

Desired destination Safety

A person should always check your own state's foreign office regarding information how safe your current destination is definitely. This will probably provide the official placement of your government upon in which destination's safety.

Nonetheless any travel warning coming from your unusual office will not necessarily mean you may not head out. Often there might end up being a small part associated with this country that basically safe, nevertheless the foreign business office will announce the complete nation unstable. So it will be some sort of good idea to combination check with some other unknown offices and reporting agencies.

Precisely what To Do If Your own personal Destination Will become Unsafe When There

You're not likely to be able to experience political alter, specifically outside of cities, nonetheless it can happen - navy effet in Bangkok seem to be to take place every several or 4 years.

Normally tourists are not a new focus on and your vacation will be not affected, however you should always stay away from virtually any mass protest as well as display.

If you locate yourself in the very less likely situation of sense hazardous or a concentrate on, you have a couple of alternatives. The first is for you to go to your own personal charge. Be aware that embassies will often become targets by themselves rapid if your charge is a targeted, subsequently neighbouring embassies will most likely present refugee - We. at the. a British Citizen, must be fine to go to help the Australian, Us or even Canadian embassies along with perversité versa.

Note down charge includes before you proceed.

The second option is to buy out as quickly since possible. This may always be as easy as getting the bus away, but while complex as contacting the particular foreign office back residence intended for specialist advice. I actually must state that that is extremely rare, and possesses not happened to myself or perhaps anyone I get met.

Safety measures For Ladies

You should outfit correctly when travelling to particular destinations. Respect religious persuits in regards to attire code and get away from sexual being a nuisance by dressing up conservatively. Take into account wearing shoes or boots you usually are capable of running inside, while visiting high risk regions.

Avoid getting alone following dark. If it is actually inescapable stick to properly lit in addition to crowded parts.

Keep any rape burglar alarm with you when you attend areas where you may possibly be vulnerable. Be sure it will be easy to access instructions with your pocket or linked to (not in) your personal bag.

American women can easily often appear promiscuous in order to some cultures, so in case stressed either ignore this or maybe tell them a person don't like it and they also should back off. When adopted walk into some sort of store or motel as well as tell the owner. If possible ask them to call up the police.

In the event that snapped up or attacked, yell seeing that loud as you could as well as activate your rapadura alert, don't try to be able to plead or even bargain. Combat back, use just about any things around you and shoot for the head, knees or perhaps privates.

If you tend to be sharing a dormitory using another traveller that may be producing you feel uncomfortable, you ought to let them and typically the hostel supervision know -- ask to go rooms when necessary. Most hostels give female only dorms, and so if you are apprehensive concerning sharing with guys this is the best solution.

How To Stay away from Getting Broken into

A related principle to not acquiring robbed anywhere - occurs common sense.

Don't demonstrate off your own valuables, specially not in the risky location or in a region where valuables are rare or hard to are available by.

Never have an excessive amount of on your person and also ensure important items are usually secure and invisible, both in a zipped bank account or locked bag. Retain other valuables safe within your hostel.

Blend in. What exactly I mean by means of which is don't act similar to a new tourist. Don't look through that will big wad of notes inside your finances, looking for the proper foreign money.

Seek safety suggestions out of your hostel. Don't move to a location that an individual have been advised never to or an area just where you will stick out along with become a target.

Keep Alert. Especially when with CREDIT machines and whenever handing above currency. Primary locations to get pickpockets are generally markets in addition to transport dernier.

If you are proceeding to become drinking, may take almost any valuables out there with you and stay added cautious.

Don't drift off in public transport or maybe retail outlet items you don't would like to lose in the cost to do business pockets. From what My spouse and i have heard via many other travellers this is often the most frequent scenario where persons have goods stolen.

Have a tendency keep gear together. Specifically cash : always include an emergency stash, My partner and i. e. in a match of clothes. Documents furthermore, you should have photocopies of your passport retained independently from the authentic.

I am not just a huge fan of safety pouches/ wallets/ belts, I think that they act like magnets for you to thieves - alerting those to the fact you possess something precious on anyone. If you insist about getting one, never receive it in public, constantly move to the very discreet place.

If you sense beneath threat, look with regard to exit items and take into account leaving as well as running.

Exactly how To Protect Your personal Things In Hostels

All people have these kinds of false misconceptions it is the actual locals who are in order to get their belongings, yet the unhappy reality is usually the biggest threat is definitely from your fellow individuals.

Fairly obvious really, contemplating you happen to be sharing a area with an regular regarding 6 strangers for every night time. However it is crucial to consider only a little minority of men and women resort to help theft.

Most hikers usually are wealthy and it can certainly end up being very tempting regarding some people to aid their selves - even in order to items you wouldn't expect. Avoid put anything past individuals - from chapsticks to be able to chargers; tuna to tooth paste - I've heard the particular lot.

The problem is actually most people are also trusting; the golden principle in hostels though is just not to trust anyone having your current belongings, particularly certainly not full strangers.

The bulk of crime will be opportunistic, not planned.

Departing your own personal iPhone on demand untreated is just giving somebody a opportunity to rob it rapid don't offer people options.

If you actually are leaving something alone ensure it is based away instructions that should go for when you usually are sleep too. Always retain valuables in a very locker as well as hostel risk-free.

Scams

Despite the fact that I stated earlier I have got never been any casualty of crime though treking, I have certainly find scam or two -- and you should too.

They goal travelers, so you tend to be likely to find all of them for most tourist destinations a person visit, in particular in establishing countries.

Several scammers get very good strategies to receiving your money. Go with belly feeling, you may usually impression when a thing is awry of course, if that sounds too good to get true, it probably is usually. Never hand over funds, property or details right up until you know everything is definitely legitimate.

Simply use registered taxis, avoid the use of cards throughout non reliable stores or even hostels. Once more common good sense is key, use the idea and also you won't fall target.

Privately, the hotbed intended for hoaxes is Hanoi, Vietnam : every hour We was right now there I ended up being targeted by scammers usually.

In this article is a list involving some cons you may possibly encounter, some more significant than others:

Scams

The particular Over Friendly And Good Salesman. Someone starts some sort of conversation with you upon the neighborhood, usually quite friendly; "where are an individual from?... Oh I enjoy the item there... Do you recognize these kinds of and such? inches. After a while they might offer you a "mates rate" package deal for a new massage for example, that they can will arrange for anyone within the phone. However while you get at this time there, you actually find the owner connected with the massage therapy parlour had not been aware of this particular package, or the parlour isn't going to even exist.

How To be able to Avoid: After having a few associated with these you just learn, and ignore the dialogue to start with. Never pay to get something before you can observe it.

The English language Pupil. Again someone should come upwards to you being incredibly helpful, they will consult if they can easily discuss with you in Uk because they are understanding. They then parents along with student fees or perhaps ebooks, etc.

This may appear to be it could be legitimate, but it took place for you to me 3 times with three or more days in Hanoi. There are numerous scams like this specific - in which play to help your emotions rapid nevertheless most of these sob reports are scams.

Just how To Avoid: Merely point out sorry, I can't aid or I have simply no money in me. In the event you feel bad in that case donate to a signed up charitable organization.

The Scooter Sales person. Some guy on a moped will pull right up subsequent to you and offer you to promote you something. Commonly in order to just take your personal money and journey off of without giving you the product or service.

How To Avoid: Basic, don't acquire anything by someone sitting down on the getaway vehicle.

Typically the Distracter. Extremely common. Any thoughts will be put within place including children approaching up to you, folks wanting a photo together with you, a person spilling one thing on you, and so forth Just about all the while someone more will be choosing your own pocket.

How To Steer clear of: May carry too several valuables in your person. Make certain your case is straightened and wallets are compressed. Be sound the alarm and guard your purchases when fumes screens similar to this are set in place.

The Fixer. You will be taking walks along the lane minding your own business any time an individual will start aiming at your shoes and boots (or bag, or whatever) expressing it is broken and requirements fixing. Then one or maybe two a lot more people will certainly start saying the same. They will will try to correct your current shoe whilst a person are still jogging as well as charge you for typically the services.

How To Keep away from: This happened in my opinion about more than one situation. I actually started by merely saying "no", if this didn't perform I surpassed the street and after that ultimately would start jogging.

Often the Drug Seller. Simple, anyone will offer you drug treatments. If you buy these, they will tip away from any police officer with regard to a reward.

Keep away from: Clearly don't buy prescription drugs. In case you absolutely have in order to, obtain other travellers, as well as through someone a passenger has stated they have delivered from just before.

The Phony Police Officer. An individual proclaiming to be a law enforcement officials officer may ask to be able to see your passport and also claim it is cast, or claim money you merely gave to a seller seemed to be counterfeit, and request you to pay out some sort of fine.

How To Prevent: A difficult a single, although extremely rare because the fees and penalties for the scammers are incredibly high. Tell them an individual have been suggested for you to always pay fees on a local police place to avoid con-artists. When they are reputable police force officers they should include no issue with this. Never ever get into a unmarked police car, look for these people to take you to help often the station in a new marked just one. If many people have a problem using this these are most most likely a scammer, consequently get in touch with the police or your own personal charge.

The Fake Solution. Anyone will sell anyone a bus or even additional ticket, that is in fact just a piece regarding paper with creating with it.

How To Stay away from: Buy primary, from the accredited travel agent, or perhaps from somewhere a revisionist has successfully bought coming from.

The actual Credit Card. An individual card will probably be scanned 2 times or amounts copied.

Precisely how To Avoid: Never allow your card out of your personal sight. Ensure that merchants swipping your credit card in entrance of you - in the event that they "need to consider it out the backside to the actual machine", inquire to follow these individuals. Inquire for, and keep invoices.

The particular Border Crossing. Anyone will be questioned in order to take something across the particular edge, for someone holding out on the other aspect. This specific almost certainly implies you are being utilized because a drug mule instructions and if you find caught carrying out that inside some places it is actually good bye for you.

The way To Avoid: Never, ever before take anything across the border that isn't your own own. Assure your tote hasn't been meddled having as well.

If You actually Be a Victim Of Criminal offenses

To begin with, if you are usually ever threaten using a system always give up your current belongings, it really just isn't worth the cost, especially as you actually should be totally covered by insurance. Also these days it doesn't take long to be able to cancel and get substitutions regarding passports, cards, and so forth.

You need to act immediately in the event you are a sufferer of crime. The 1st step will be filing any police review (this can be vital if professing your insurance). You could nonetheless need/ want to go to your embassy first according to the nature of the criminal offenses.

You will additionally need to stop any objects stolen since soon possible.

[twilight-deviant]

Crazy lady again! Lol ☺ (Maybe I should just give myself a username...) Anyway, I think the Garcy shippers were wearing our Garcia and Flynn tinted glasses and more than one of us thought the were going to kiss in the finale. (I was sitting there, blinded, obviously, saying "Just do it!" Oh wait... This is canon...) But here is a prompt: What if they HAD kiss? Perhaps impulse of the moment? How would it have changed the episode? (A lot obviously...😝)

AO3 Link

The plan I first had for this prompt was more low-impact in the beginning and culminated with their final scene. But then I reread that it’s asking how it would affect the episode. So affect the episode I did.

Finale AU!

Lucy stared out the window, observing people pass in vintage clothes and classic cars. Her hands crossed in front of her, presenting a patient, dignified stance. She waited. Lucy knew it was not coincidence or bad luck that she and Wyatt were targeted by McCarthy’s men.

The door to her conference room cell opened without warning or knock. Flynn closed the door back behind him. They were free to speak in private, as they so often did.

Lucy began the mission to 1954 with reservations against stopping Flynn. Over the past weeks, the concept nagged at her more and more, growing in size and inescapability as it snowballed. She knew he was right, but even now, she could not support his methods.

Flynn announced his plan to destroy Rittenhouse that night. He exercised enough courtesy and compassion to let Lucy know her grandfather would be there. He warned of potential fallout and consequence in her life. He was guilty. He could not look her in the eye.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lucy questioned, and she turned to look at him with more than peripheral vision. She stared at him as he stared shamefully at the floorboards.

Giving every respect he held for her— since before they even met— Flynn said, “I thought you deserved the truth.” He attempted a smile that faltered and fell. The reassurance it attempted was a self-aware fallacy.

“So you told me.” Lucy did not know what reaction he expected. In all Flynn did, she gave him understanding. She could not afford support. “What do you want from me, my blessing?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he quickly dismissed with a scoff, deriding the assertion as if it were absurd and unprecedented.

“You don’t want anything from me?” Lucy retorted. Flynn always asked for so much. He always wanted from her. They knew it was a lie even now. His eyes were big and scared. His insecurities were exposed before her. “Because I think you do. I think deep down there’s some part— some human part of you— that wants me to stop you.” She saw too much. Flynn did not interrupt. He did not contradict. “God,” Lucy said, “I swear this game that we keep playing— nobody wins, nobody loses, people keep dying. What’s the body count so far?” If Flynn had an exact number in his head, he did not say it. “And for what?”

“Okay,” he objected, cutting her off, knowing her opinion, “now’s the time where you tell me what a monster I am?” Flynn put words in both their mouths. It was an opinion he assumed on Lucy’s part but arrived at all on his own. He was wrong.

“I don’t think you’re a monster anymore.” She shook her head. “I used to.” Again, Flynn could not look at her. He only had confidence against Lucy when he was right and she was wrong. “But now, I just think that you’re sad,” such a simple three-letter word consumed and defined that strong man, “and you’re lonely.” He had no one. Flynn lost his family. He killed or alienated his allies. “I think you’re a broken person.” Flynn glanced at Lucy but slowly dropped his eyes to the floor, weighed down by the burden of her hard-hitting words. “Who misses the people that they love, just like me, just like Wyatt.”

Flynn could suffer any emotion but empathy. His loss, as he considered it, was greater than all others, greater than Lucy’s, greater than Wyatt’s. “Don’t talk about my family like you know them,” he commanded.

“You want to stop Rittenhouse,” Lucy said, “we’ll help you, but not like this.” Lucy was utterly, desperately sincere. She shared Flynn’s beliefs that something must be done. She could not ignore that truth, but she could not permit mass murder.

Flynn came upon her with great stalking steps. His shoulders came up as his back arched down. He towered over Lucy. She did not shy away. She did not show cowardice and uncertainty against intimidation, not even when Flynn asked a question she could not answer: “How?” His smile was wrong. There was no happiness. Flynn felt no happiness. He took what pleasures and reassurance he could find in life, like watching Lucy fumble for an alternative. If she could think of nothing, then there was truly nothing. Flynn earnestly waited for her suggestion. He waited until Lucy dropped eye contact in defeat. “You don’t know,” he presumed. Lucy tried to speak in her defense but had nothing to offer. Flynn was right. “Because there is no other way.”

Nothing more was said. They both knew, regrettably, that was the last word of a conversation neither wanted to end. Lucy did not want Flynn to leave and prepare for the unthinkable. Flynn did not want to say goodbye to Lucy.

Green and brown eyes stared into each other, delaying the inevitable. Flynn’s expression softened. His rage faded. He never could keep it going very long with her. The half-life of his resentment was always a fleeting thing, youthful and snuffed in its crib.

Flynn licked his lips, as he was wont to do. He glanced at Lucy’s, as he never did.

If it was to be their end, there was no reason to watch it wither with regrets and “what-ifs?”

Flynn leaned further down and closer in. He hesitated.

He hesitated.

He kissed Lucy.

There was little pressure and no force. Flynn gave her the right and the ability to back out at any time. The kiss met his want, his desire, but he understood if she did not share it.

Lucy was too stunned to react immediately. Flynn’s slow approach benefited no time for thought, not when she wasted those long, dragging seconds convinced she misread his intent— even when it was alarmingly obvious. For an equally long, and equally short, gap of time, Lucy stood there completely frozen.

Flynn kissed a still statue. He was the fruitless Pygmalion, and his desperation increased as his confidence waned. He misinterpreted what was between them, and he realized that.

Lucy wanted to grip his face or clutch his tie and demand from where such brazenness came. She did not. She experienced what she felt instead of acting on first impulse. Flynn was kissing her, and that meant something. It meant— as could not, and would never, be denied— he had feelings for her. The kiss he gave— the kiss he stole— was not platonic. He wanted more than that. Lucy wondered what would happen if she gave it to him.

Just when Flynn’s nerve finally failed and he pulled away, Lucy stepped forward. She kissed him back, and with his height, it was a difficult thing to chase. She leaned closer in her high heels and stood further on her toes.

Reversing roles, now Flynn was surprised. His shock was much more brief. He overcame it much more quickly. His head came back down, and Lucy’s feet touched the ground.

Strong hands hesitated and hovered in the air, not daring to touch. Lucy made the first move. She pressed her hands against his chest and moved them with a gentle, calming stroke. Flynn considered it permission given. His hands cradled her jaw, outlining her face, keeping her there, confirming her presence. Thumbs caressed Lucy’s cheek, and fingers grazed the nape of her neck. Flynn took such special care to not mess her hair. There was an unavoidable end to their dalliance, and they would need to look presentable when that happened. But it was an act neither of them wanted to end. Lucy did not want Flynn to leave and prepare for the unthinkable. Flynn did not want to say goodbye to Lucy. She complicated his choice further.

Lucy moved her hand inward. She grabbed Flynn’s tie and pulled him forward as she moved back, forcing him to follow. He did not break up their kiss. He continued it, changing the angle, spurred on by her initiative. The backs of Lucy’s legs knocked against the solid wood of the conference table. With barely any hesitation, Flynn picked her up and sat her on it. He leaned over her, across legs modestly bound together by a long pencil skirt.

Flynn’s hands rested on the tabletop, and he put his weight on them, surrounding Lucy on both sides with his arms, pressing against her knees with his body. An end could no longer be anticipated or predicted. It was decided for them.

The sole of a hard shoe walked over wooden boards in the hall. The person did not enter, did not disturb them, but simply the act of passing by frightened Flynn and Lucy back into their senses. They pulled away from each other.

Flynn looked ashamedly at the floor. He licked his lips and then wiped them with the back of his hand. Lucy stared at her lap before sliding off the table. Her skirt was perfectly in order, but she smoothed it out regardless. She touched her hair and stood up straight. Lucy found composure quicker than Flynn.

“What was that?” she asked, retaining an authoritative persona when he could not. After all, they were not led by her impulse.

Flynn did not know. He was not sure and could not answer. “We may… not see each other again,” he lamented. “I wanted to…” There was no end to his sentence. He could not confidently explain the irrational.

“You wanted to.” Lucy helped him realize motive was unnecessary. She finished the statement where he left it hanging. That was all there was to it.

“Yes,” Flynn confirmed. He wanted to kiss Lucy, so he did. “Yes.” His voice was gruff. He cleared his throat and took a step back. He situated the tie Lucy had mussed, laying it back down the middle of his shirt and securing it with the metal tie clip. His hands crossed behind his back, maintaining a modest figure as he stood up straight and to his full height. Flynn looked perfectly presentable, ready to step out into the hall and attract no stares, no suspicions.

“Don’t leave,” Lucy asked.

Flynn was finally able to look her in the eye again. “If you think this changes anything—”

“It doesn’t.” Lucy was not foolish. Flynn was a master of detaching himself from his emotions. He sacrificed his soul for his mission. He could easily forsake a relationship before its start. It was a comparably simple obstacle. “Take me with you.”

“No.” He was rightfully worried over what interference she could manufacture.

“I’m alone,” Lucy said. “Just me. I’m unarmed.” She was physically weaker as well but did not comment on the obvious. “I can’t stop you, Flynn.”

“You saved General Grant,” he stated. “You let John Rittenhouse go. You forget, Lucy, I’m the one person who will… never… underestimate you. I’ve learned my lesson from the times I did.”

“Take me with you,” she asked again. “It’s not a trick.” Not even she could tell if that were a lie. “Take me with you and we can think of an alternative. We can carry out your plan if there isn’t one.” Lucy came closer to him. She touched his arm and pulled until he let it go from behind his back. She held his large hand in hers. “Let me save my grandfather. Let me keep him from the meeting.”

“He’s a leader,” Flynn argued, “invited to the summit for a reason. They all have to go, Lucy.” He was apologetic. He did not take back his hand and, instead, let it rest in hers like comfort and physical proof.

“He can’t rebuild Rittenhouse on his own.”

“It started with one man before,” Flynn reminded her. “It can happen again.”

“No, you don’t know that,” Lucy insisted. “Maybe he’ll give up. Maybe he…” She did not know the man and could not predict him. She used logic. “He can’t repair Rittenhouse to the state it’s in now. He can’t… redo two hundred years of progress in just sixty. It won’t be as operational in the present. Rittenhouse won’t be able to spare men to take out you and your family.”

Flynn gently took his hand away. “You’re asking a lot,” he murmured.

“You’re asking to risk my life,” Lucy replied.

“Your father’s already born,” Flynn told her, “a child.”

“But growing up without his father can change anything,” Lucy said, “everything.”

“That’s the plan.”

“What if he doesn’t meet my mother?” She was asking Flynn to spare her life. “Regimes can- can fall quickly, but they need time to gain power. One man,” she asserted, “can’t do it all. After I’m born…” It was a cold sentiment, but Lucy did not care what happened to her father. She did not care what happened to her grandfather. “You’re right,” she said. He was. “Rittenhouse needs to be stopped. But it can be done another way. It can be done without dozens of people dying, without me being a casualty.”

“It can be done one way,” Flynn maintained. He had a plan and he was convinced it was the only one. “But maybe we can…” It troubled him to concede, to leave anything to chance. “Maybe we can, uh, spare your grandfather.”

Lucy smiled at him, and it took all of Flynn’s resolve not to smile back. She headed for the door. “We have to get Wyatt.”

Flynn stepped between her and the exit. “No,” he refused. He could allow Lucy to tag along, but Wyatt was a gun and hand-to-hand combat. He was a kill order who could only be warded off through bribery of information. Flynn had none for him at the moment. “Wyatt can handle himself.”

“He can help,” Lucy insisted.

“He can,” Flynn agreed, “but I think we both know he won’t.” Wyatt despised Flynn. Mere hours ago, he talked about putting him down, taking him out, as had always been his mission. He was less willing to compromise. “You come with me— alone,” Flynn said, “or you stay here… in custody.” She had two options, no more, no less.

“Okay.” Lucy nodded her head. “All right.” She did not want to let Flynn out of her sight. She grabbed her coat, gloves, and purse. “Let’s go.” Wyatt could handle himself. If not, Lucy would come back for him. She would come back when it was all over.

“One more thing,” Flynn interrupted, stopping her from leaving.

“What?”

With greatly acted nonchalance, Flynn bent down and kissed Lucy one more time. It was quick and chaste, as if all he did was experiment— experiment if that prior spark remained or was a fluke. It was there. Lucy felt it. Then it was gone. Flynn opened the door. “That’s all.” Lucy walked through and Flynn closed it behind him. “We’ll take the stairs down the hall,” he said, “go out the backdoor. Strictly speaking, this is a jailbreak.” He grinned, finding humor in the fact that he made Lucy a prisoner and now a fugitive.

She followed Flynn closely and together, they avoided detection. He had a car parked down the street, and Lucy climbed into the passenger seat. They were alone.

“Where are your men?” she asked. It was not a rarity for Flynn to work alone, but a mission so important was best suited to have all hands on deck. “The one who’s always following you around,” she said, remembering his name was, “Karl, where is he?”

“Not here.” He gave Lucy no better answer.

“What else are you planning?” If Flynn was delegating tasks, spreading resources across a grand plot, Lucy felt she had a right to know.

“Lucy,” Flynn said in a stern voice, warning her against pursuing the subject, “drop it.”

She did, knowing he could kick her out and abandon their delicate partnership at any time.

“My grandfather,” Lucy said, “my mother told me that she met him once, that he was a White House aide.” She knew where to find him, where to abduct him.

“I know,” Flynn said. Of course he did. He hunkered over in the seat and grabbed insulated tubing that wrapped around exposed wires. He twisted two wires together and struck another two together. The car sparked to life.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Lucy remarked, and she was impressed.

“Pretty good,” he agreed. Flynn sat upright and put the car in gear.

The sun set early in February. Already, it hid behind tall buildings and cast long shadows. The work day would end soon.

Flynn drove right to her grandfather’s car as if he planned the route. They passed a sign that reserved parking for Ethan Cahill. The red convertible in the space was empty, so Flynn found the first vacant parking spot for them to wait in and watch from. He let the engine idle a moment before reaching down to untwist two wires. The car died. He waited and then twisted them back together, ready to go at short notice.

“Really good at that,” Lucy amended. Flynn certainly knew what he was doing.

He sat back in the seat. They watched the sun set, taking with it any warmth of daylight. A soft snow began to flutter down, catching in trees and on cars. It accumulated on their windshield but was not substantial enough to obscure the view.

Snowfall always brought dead quiet, even in a city. When Flynn spoke, it startled Lucy, despite its gentle volume. “You cold?”

“Uh,” she stammered, surprised by the considerate inquiry, “no.” She had gloves, sleeves, and layers. Only her exposed calves were a little chilly. “No, not really.”

Flynn nodded his head and resumed the silence. There was a discussion they needed to have, but it was clear neither of them wanted to address what happened in the conference room. There were more important matters at hand.

They waited for Ethan to leave work, but apparently he was devoted. Time slipped by. Flynn became anxious, and Lucy knew he was counting every minute he lost in the window to act against Rittenhouse. She said nothing, fully aware Flynn did not want assurances for a concern she did not share. Lucy busied her hands to fill time and ease tension.

Flynn stared at the parking lot. His focus seemed intense, but he betrayed that it was split. “What’s that?” he asked.

“What?” Lucy glanced out the windshield and saw nothing, no new development.

“In your hand,” Flynn clarified.

“It’s…” Lucy reached behind her neck and unfastened the small clasp. She handed the locket to Flynn, and he held it in the scant light coming in from a streetlamp. “It’s my sister,” she told him, “Amy. I always keep it on me because now I never know… I never know what will disappear, what I’ll lose.” Flynn did not dismiss Lucy’s sorrow. He did not hastily study and discard the pictures in the locket. “Is she in the journal?” Lucy had to ask.

“Yes,” Flynn confirmed, but he did not go into detail. He shut the locket with a click and returned it to her. “I’m more concerned with the fact you have this.”

Lucy fastened the locket back around her neck and let it slip beneath her blouse to stay hidden. “I don’t understand it either,” she admitted. “Connor Mason said that… because it existed outside time, outside of the… damn time change, that it was unaffected, even after Amy disappeared.”

Flynn let the information turn over in his brain. He was a very smart man, capable of connecting related and unrelated threads of intelligence. “Then you’re not at risk,” he concluded. “You exist outside of time, Lucy, and you were, uh, conveniently quiet about it.” He was very displeased with her over the revelation but was becoming acclimated Lucy’s duplicity. He leaned down to grab the hanging wires under the dash and jolt the car to life.

“Wait, wait.” Lucy put her hand over his, and he stopped. “It’s still a risk,” she said. “I’m not a locket, Flynn. We don’t… know what will happen.” He sighed and looked up at her. “Even if I survive, I might— I don’t know— not have a- a life to go back to.”

“I know people,” was all he said. It was enough to represent seedy relationships with individuals who could forge a new identity and paper trail spanning Lucy’s entire life. Flynn flicked her hand away and resumed striking the wires against each other.

“Please.”

He stopped again. One pitiful, pleading word and he stopped. He would trust Lucy. He would help his partner. With a long, frustrated growl, Flynn sat upright.

“Thank you,” Lucy said.

“Shut up.” He did not want to hear her gratitude. It was nothing but evidence towards increasing weakness. He let his left hand rest on the steering wheel, holding it with a lax grip, as if they casually drove down a long stretch of road. “We save your grandfather,” he permitted. “But I will take care of the rest of Rittenhouse.” It was their standing agreement.

Lucy did not repeat her acquiescence. She still had not come up with a better idea, and Flynn’s plot remained the best chance at taking down Rittenhouse. It was the most violent.

His right hand was a tight fist on the seat between them. When Lucy grazed it with a soft touch, he first flinched and then relaxed. She opened his hand up and held it. Flynn reciprocated, wrapping long fingers around her. Lucy turned in the seat, bringing her knee up and over as far as her skirt would allow. She gripped his hand in both of hers, holding the rough skin between the fabric of her gloves. Flynn watched Lucy raise it to her lips and place a tender kiss on the back, on his fingers, on each knuckle in between. He was so malleable, so hopeful, so delicate before her.

“I know that you’re not a bad man,” she said. He was a good one who lost his way. “I know that you’re hurting.” She pitied him. Her heart hurt for him. “I know you don’t want to kill all those people.”

Flynn sniffed. He moved his hand in Lucy’s, not pulling it away but not letting it rest deathly still in her grip. Their hands swayed back and forth like a slow pendulum. They watched only that hypnotic motion. “I don’t want to kill them,” he confessed. Lucy knew that. He simply confirmed. “I have to kill them, to put my wife and child back on this earth.”

Lucy doubted it would work, but she held her criticism until the last minute, when Flynn could not easily get rid of her.

She looked out at the soft, snowy night and saw, “That’s him.” Flynn pulled his hand away and reached for the door handle. Lucy grabbed him. “Not now,” she stated.

“Why not grab him now?” Flynn huffed.

“Someone might see,” Lucy said, “someone who could call the police.” It was dangerous to act while still in the city. The seclusion of the Rittenhouse summit was a much safer target area. “We know where he’s going. We’ll follow him to the meeting and grab him before he goes in.”

Flynn made an exaggerated gesture of turning his wrist over to check the time. His watch lit the cabin with a blue glow. “I have to prepare for the summit,” he said. “If you think you can run the clock down by leading us around Washington—”

“No,” Lucy interrupted. “That’s not it.” She knew Flynn would not tolerate or forgive such a ruse. “The car,” she prompted, “hurry.”

Flynn leaned down and set to starting the car. It took him a few tries, and Lucy kept an eye on which direction Ethan went.

They drove in quiet, tailing her grandfather down intersections, long roads, then twists and turns.

“This is not the way to the summit,” Flynn said. He had an address and, knowing him, had already memorized the route to get there.

“Maybe he knows a back way,” Lucy proposed, “a shortcut.”

“Or maybe,” he said, “he knows we’re following him.”

“You’re being…” Lucy did not finish her statement. She knew how Flynn detested being called paranoid, crazy. “Don’t you think,” she reasoned, “McCarthy could have been lying to you?” Flynn did not answer. He could not confidently contradict it. “I’m assuming he told you the information under duress.”

“I’ll give it another ten minutes,” Flynn granted. “Then I’m turning around. If your grandfather wants to drive across the city all night, he’ll save himself and we won’t have to.”

It did not take the full ten minutes. Ethan pulled up to an old, ornate building. It was not the address Flynn was given. He was beyond frustrated, and Lucy could tell. Either McCarthy lied to him or they were wasting time.

With a angered snort of air through his nose, Flynn turned off the car. His temper was a liability.

“Wait,” Lucy cried.

“What?” barked Flynn.

Lucy kissed him. She leaned across the wide seat of their stolen car, grabbed him by the sleeve, and kissed him. Flynn was immediately responsive. “Don’t kill him,” Lucy whispered against his lips.

“No,” he agreed around a quiet smacking sound. “No.” Killing Ethan Cahill risked Lucy’s life in one way or another, and she was convincing Flynn against taking that chance. He did not want to take it. Suddenly, he pulled away and shoved Lucy back across the seat. “He’s getting away.” Flynn got out of the car and slammed the door.

His moods were so wildly unpredictable, Lucy was obligated to follow. Flynn stopped at the corner of the building. Lucy kept going, but he grabbed her around the arm and squeezed.

“Too late,” he said. “I’m afraid your grandfather’s already inside.” He was sympathetic to Lucy’s plight for existence, but, “We can’t exactly walk in the front door.”

Lucy pulled her arm away and Flynn let go. “Why not?” she said. “Can’t look them in the eye before you murder them?”

As if to make a point and prove his determination, Flynn reconsidered an entrance. “Lady’s first,” he said.

“We’ll get him away from the group,” Lucy suggested. “Tell him there’s an emergency, a phone call.” Flynn grunted in reply. The lead was hers. Every foolish plan was hers— until he had to intervene.

They walked through the front door, and Lucy was prompted by a man to check her coat. She looked at Flynn, knowing he would not appreciate anything that delayed a hasty exit. He moved behind Lucy and helped her out of her coat. “We’ll leave it,” he whispered in her ear, sharing her thoughts and already accepting the worst outcome. Flynn left the coat with the attendant.

Soothing jazz whispered through the door and into the entryway. Flynn and Lucy stepped between curtains and observed the gathering. Lucy was anxious. Flynn was tense. He was on edge, calculating how long it would take to pull his gun. From the corner of her eye, Lucy watched him slowly undo the button of his jacket and make his weapon accessible. She put her hand over his to calm him.

The room before them was full of men who greeted Ethan warmly and rather affectionately. They whispered closely in each other’s ears and came away blushing. It was not the atmosphere of a manipulative terrorist organization.

“This isn’t Rittenhouse,” Flynn said, voicing the realization they arrived at simultaneously.

“No,” Lucy haltingly agreed, “I think this might be a gay bar.”

Flynn relaxed, but Lucy saw him compulsively check his watch. “It would appear,” Flynn remarked with a somewhat amused tone, “I’m only the second-most powerful threat to your having been born.”

“I exist,” Lucy said. She watched her grandfather order a drink and begin a conversation with a man at the bar. It all happened without their interference. It always happened.

“Which means,” Flynn reasoned, “Ethan is very, very covert with his, uh, extramarital affairs.”

“It’s 1954,” Lucy explained. “You could be arrested for being gay.”

“Excellent,” Flynn said, and it was not the response she expected. However, it preceded his next plan. “Then we’ll have no trouble getting him to come with us.” He buttoned his jacket. A gun would not be necessary.

“Don’t…” Lucy whispered before breaking off in a sigh. She yielded. “Don’t blackmail him too badly.”

“Oh, that depends entirely on him,” Flynn insisted.

Lucy reconsidered again. “Let me do the talking.”

Flynn deferred authority to her. “Whatever gets him in the car quickest.” It was no new development that Flynn cared more about the end result than the method imployed getting there. They waited to get Ethan alone and watched him have a superficial conversation at the bar. Flynn kept vigilance despite the unhostile environment. “Well,” he commented as he gauged the room, “I’m certainly getting a lot of looks.”

Lucy saw a young man a few yards away gander up and down his tall physique with a suggestive eye. Flynn nodded politely in response, and Lucy experienced an odd sense of jealousy. “I get the feeling it’s not every day someone like you walks in,” she said. It made Flynn grin, and surprisingly, she liked the ease with which they could now subtly compliment each other. Lucy went a step further and spoke outright. “You… are… attractive,” she admitted. It felt like coming clean about a lie, though she never said anything to the contrary.

“And you’re beautiful,” Flynn said with much less difficulty.

Lucy barely kept herself from blushing, and she was grateful that fortune gave her an out because she had no idea what to say next. “He’s alone.” The man at the bar walked away and Ethan watched him leave with an admiring gaze and a grin. He turned back to his drink. “Let me do the talking,” Lucy said once more, making certain Flynn remembered. He stayed an obedient distance behind her and tried to copy Lucy’s casualness when she walked up and rested her arm on the bar. “Excuse me,” she said. “Are you Ethan, Ethan Cahill?”

Ethan had a very pleasant smile when he lied to them. “No,” he answered, “sorry. You’re mistaken.”

Lucy did not have to look back to guess Flynn was frowning. “No,” she assured Ethan, “we’re not cops.”

That concerned him almost as greatly. He came closer and spoke to her in a subdued whisper. “I don’t know what you think you saw here,” he said, trying to maintain some authority, “but I have a wife and son to get back to, so—”

“We know,” Lucy interrupted before he left— before Flynn stepped in. “His name is Ben.”

“How do you know that?” Ethan asked. Lucy could not think of a good answer. She looked at Flynn for suggestions, but he refused to contribute unless asked outright. It was Lucy’s discussion, as she insisted. Ethan looked between them. He reached into his jacket pocket. “Okay,” he said, ready to bargain, “how much do you want? I’ve got about $50.”

“We don’t want your money,” Lucy said. She wanted compliance to his own kidnapping, but there was no tactful way to ask for it.

“Mr. Cahill,” Flynn butted in. He stepped around Lucy and stood at her side. “We believe it would be in your best interest if you follow us outside, sir.”

Ethan swallowed with fear, but they held every card and he could not disobey. He nodded and followed them to the entryway. Flynn helped Lucy back into her coat and they left the private establishment.

“Keep walking to your car,” Flynn instructed, and he may as well have aimed his gun for all the weight his presence carried. He was intimidating.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Lucy promised.

“No, actually it’s quite the opposite,” Flynn said. “We’re keeping you from attending the Rittenhouse summit.”

“Ritten…” Ethan was shocked at their knowledge of Rittenhouse but did not insult them by denying its existence, not like so many members before him. “How do you know about—”

“Give me your keys,” Flynn ordered. Ethan did not dare defy him. He handed them over. “Get in the front seat.” Flynn passed on the keys. “Lucy, you drive.” He climbed into the back with a gun in his hand, watching for any sign of treachery from Ethan, waiting for an excuse. There came none. Ethan was an obedient hostage. He was too confused and too nervous to act any other way.

They left the city completely and drove into a dark night with no stars. A waning crescent moon flitted in and out of clouds and lit the fallen snow, making it glow. Lucy drove where Flynn instructed. She took the turns he said.

A name was one thing. Knowledge of the summit was another. Exact directions to the summit let Ethan know they were perfectly aware of what evil they fought. He took them seriously, which meant that for a long while he said nothing.

Lucy peeked at Ethan while she drove. She was curious about him and got away with that peeping curiosity for several minutes. He glanced back at her, and Lucy quickly put her eyes on the road.

“You look familiar to me,” he said.

“My father is in Rittenhouse,” Lucy replied, and it was only a temporal lie. “Maybe you’ve met him before.”

“What do you want with them,” Ethan asked, “with Rittenhouse?”

“Does it matter?” Flynn spoke up from the backseat. “You won’t be participating in tonight’s event.”

“He’s going to kill them all,” Lucy said. She looked in her mirror at Flynn. He licked his lips nervously and looked at the floorboards ashamedly. “Everyone except for you.”

“Why me?” Ethan asked. He looked at Flynn and then at Lucy, feeling he had better chances getting an answer from her. “Why are you singling me out? What makes me special?”

“Lucy insisted on it,” Flynn said. “She thinks you’re worth saving. Personally,” he leaned forward and rested his gun on the back of their seat, “I’m waiting for you to prove her wrong.” Nothing would comfort Flynn more than complete eradication.

“You want to kill everyone in Rittenhouse?” Ethan questioned.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why?”

Flynn would not say, so Lucy answered on his behalf. “Rittenhouse murdered his family.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Ethan said, “truly. I mean it.”

“You work for them,” Flynn laughed. His tone was condescending. He did not care for Ethan, a man who benefited from the organization.

“I didn’t want to,” Ethan swore. “I’ve never… wanted to. I don’t want to.” He looked ahead at the dark road lit by headlights. “If Rittenhouse finds out the truth about me—”

“What, they’ll kick you out?” Flynn presumed.

“No, they’ll kill me, too,” he said. Lucy felt such sadness and offense for him. Ethan’s face contorted with despair. He sobbed without crying. His voice broke. “I love my wife,” he insisted. “I love my son. It’s just— It’s a bad habit. It’s a sick habit. I keep trying to stop. I- I tried the shock therapy. It’s just- it- you know…”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Ethan,” Lucy said in a calm, comforting voice, but it was difficult to instill progressive thinking in the past. “Nothing.” Ethan wanted to believe her. His desperation for that modicum of understanding was pitiful.

Behind them, Flynn added in, saying, “She’s right, you know.” He shook his head. “Well, insomuch as, uh, attraction is concerned.” Allegiances were another matter.

“Who are you people?” Ethan demanded. There were so different than any standard acquaintance in the 50s.

“We’re the people saving your life,” Flynn said.

“By not killing me,” Ethan remarked, separating the suspicious mercy from altruistic heroism.

“We’re people you can trust,” Lucy promised.

And Ethan believed her. Somehow, he believed her. He looked at Lucy with such soulful eyes, eyes that glistened with unshed tears. He nodded his head along and looked forward. “When I was eighteen,” he said, “my father caught me with a… friend.” He raised his eyebrows emphatically, implying something more, knowing they would catch onto what exactly. “And after he spent the better part of an hour whipping me with his belt, he sat me down and told me all about Rittenhouse.” Ethan paused and licked his lips. The truth troubled him to that very day. “At the time,” he told them, “I thought I’d rather he beat me all over again than be part of something like that.” Ethan’s timidity slipped away. His pervading emotions were a burning resentment and hatred. “If the two of you do destroy Rittenhouse,” he concluded, “I just might thank you.” Lucy watched Ethan and gauged his sincerity. He seemed completely honest in all he said, and she knew even Flynn had trouble doubting it. Ethan wanted them to succeed.

Lucy drove the car another half-mile and pulled over as soon as there was space on the side of the road. The brakes squeaked. She left the car running but put it in park. “I need to talk with you,” she said to Flynn, “outside.”

Flynn looked back and forth between Lucy and her grandfather. Whatever she had to say was important and secret. “If you get out of this car,” he warned Ethan, “if you try to run, if you… open the door for a little fresh air, I’ll shoot you.” He said the threat— the promise— so seriously it could not be disputed. “Do you understand?”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll stay here. I’ll stay right… I’ll stay here.”

“Good man.”

Lucy exited the car and folded the seat forward so Flynn could climb out. He closed the door behind them. Snow crunched under their feet as they walked a few yards past the car. Frigid air whipped through bare trees and bit at their exposed faces. Lucy’s coat protected her arms and body, but cold scratched her legs. She did not want to be outside any longer than necessary.

“What?” Flynn demanded. The closer they got to the meeting, the more impatient he became. He guessed the time had come for Lucy’s ineffective plan.

“Please,” she asked before he could start. “I don’t want to fight.”

“And yet you’re going to suggest something for us to fight over,” he assumed. “I told you, Lucy. I told you what I was going to do. I never lied. I never downplayed it. They’re all going to be in one place, and I’m going to end this, once and for all.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be that way?” Lucy said. Flynn scoffed and paced away from her, turned his back to her. “What you’re planning,” she told him, “it won’t work.”

Flynn rounded on Lucy and yelled in her face. “You don’t know that,” he claimed against her, pleaded with her, “and I know you’d do the same!” He took a deep breath and lowered voice. Warm air puffed out of mouth as visible vapor when he spoke. There were tears in his eyes. “You would do the same,” he said again, “for Amy.” Flynn thought it was a moral victory over Lucy. He thought she was no better than him.

“You’re right,” she admitted, saying exactly what he wanted to hear. “You’re right,” she repeated, saying exactly what he did not want to hear. “I would.” She was no better than him. It was what the trips were teaching her. Lucy was learning how far she would go. She moved her own boundary at every turn, pushing it farther and farther back. She knew that, in time, one day, she would easily catch up with Flynn. And that was why they had to stop. “We are all so caught up in our grief,” she said, “in our past, in our pain, and we can’t let go, so we just continue to hurt more people.” Her words hit Flynn and affected him greatly. It was their reality, their selfish reality.

“I prayed to God,” Flynn whispered, “for answers.” His lip quivered as he doubted his own conviction. He looked down the road and Lucy followed his gaze. There, almost a mile away, sat a mansion upon a hill, lit from ground to roof in a way that denoted a large gathering. Without asking, Lucy knew he looked at the Rittenhouse summit. It was so close to him. “And He led me here, to this.” He took a deep breath through his nose, and it stuttered like a sob when it fell from his trembling lips in a white cloud.

Lucy came closer to him, so close. She could almost feel his body heat. With utmost sincerity, with honest consideration, she said, “What if He led you to me?” It was not the response Flynn expected. It was not a response he might ever have expected. His head twitched in an erratic nod as he tried to process it. He was listening. He was willing to hear her. He would hear someone who thought they were meant to find each other and be together. He was listening. Lucy felt an overwhelming responsibility not to let him down. “I know a way that we can really take out Rittenhouse,” she said. She had a plan that finalized itself as she spoke. “We have to stop trying to fix the past and focus on the present. Please,” she begged, and Flynn was so desperate for an alternative, he kept listening. “I know what to do now. Please, before it’s too late.” Flynn sniffed. It was loud in the winter night, where the only other sound within a mile was the car’s engine. Flynn wanted to believe her. He waited to believe her. “The journal,” Lucy said, citing his guide, using his most trusted source of information, “didn’t it say that we were going to work together?” It was the goal he wanted third in life, behind the resurrection of his family, behind the dismantlement of Rittenhouse. He wanted their partnership. He needed her. “Today’s that day,” she asserted. “Look how far we got, Flynn, together. We did it.” He looked over her shoulder at the mansion on the hill. Lucy dragged his attention back to her. “You helped me today… Flynn,” she said. “You spared my grandfather for me. So please,” she asked, “please… let me help you.” She wanted to save Rittenhouse from death. She wanted to remove them from power. She wanted what was best for Flynn. She had no other motive, and from her, he had nothing to fear. “Do you trust me?”

Flynn looked at her with big, pleading eyes. He wanted to trust her. “What?” His voice was weak and broken. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What is it you have in mind?”

“We use Ethan,” Lucy told him. She explained it very generally because there were still finer details she had yet to iron out. “It can work.” A cold wind blew and Lucy shivered. Flynn stepped between her and it. He shielded her from the worst of the gust.

“I can’t,” he apologized. Her plan was too uncertain.

“You can,” Lucy stated. “And you want to.” She knew him well by now. “You don’t want to kill those people. Please.” Lucy had begged Flynn to forgo murder before, when she stood between him and John Rittenhouse. He denied her then. “Please.” Lucy’s hand was warm in her glove. She could not feel Flynn’s skin, but she imagined it was chilled when she took his hand in hers. “Please. I don’t want you to do this.” She wanted to save Flynn from himself. She wanted to preserve what was left of his soul. He was too reckless with the precious thing, and she took responsibility of its care. He wanted to trust her. He did. Lucy gave him a backup guarantee that would satisfy all doubt. “This isn’t the only meeting,” she said, “right? If this doesn’t work, we can- we can go back further.”

“We?” He put such fearful optimism in that two-letter word.

“We,” Lucy confirmed. She would go with Flynn, accompany him to however many eras and however many summits it took. She was all the guarantee he needed.

Flynn touched her face. His hand was cold, as Lucy knew it would be. She did not care. She rested her cheek against his gentle palm. Flynn leaned down and kissed her. His mouth was warm. “Okay,” he surrendered. “Okay, Lucy.” She won. He let her win. It was the victory they both wanted. It was a plan they agreed on together.

Lucy drew back. “Ethan could be watching.”

“Let him watch.” It changed nothing. Flynn was unashamed. He was excited to kiss Lucy and proud to show off their burgeoning relationship, even with her grandfather watching. He had all the enthusiasm and negligence of a teenager. He wanted to celebrate.

Flynn’s arms wrapped around her, and he was such a warm, comforting presence. He was so strong, and it felt good to be held by that strength instead of assaulted by it, dragged around by it. They moved back and forth in a languid sway.

When they pulled away, white vapor exited both their mouths before mingling, disappearing, and being immediately replaced. Lucy ducked her head down and rested it on his chest. Flynn’s gravely voice rumbled against her ear.

“You trust him that much,” he asked of Ethan, “a man you just met?” Flynn stroked her neck and fingered the short, stray hairs at her nape.

“I do,” Lucy said. She would not suggest using him otherwise. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” If it were anyone else, he would never take the chance. Flynn left nothing to chance, and he did not consider Lucy’s ingenuity as such. “You stopped me too many times for it to be dumb luck.” Lucy pulled back from him and saw a smile. “Kiss me again.”

“It’s cold.” Lucy wanted to get back in the car.

���Kiss me.”

It was the least he deserved. She pushed her lips against his. She opened and closed them with audible little smacks. They tilted their heads to get closer. The tip of Flynn’s sharp nose pressed into her cheek. His hands rested tamely on her back, rubbing with gentle pressure. Lucy put her gloved fingers on his neck and on his face. She wanted to take off the ridiculous things. She wanted to feel him. But it was cold. Lucy broke the kiss.

“You’re pretty good at that,” she panted, trying and failing to not sound worn out from such a simple exertion.

Flynn shrugged with a smirk. “You’re not so bad yourself, Lucy.” As with most things (talking, acting, planning), they were very good together, naturally compatible. Flynn looked at the car and chuckled. “He’s probably thinking the worst about his situation.”

“Come on.” Lucy took his hand and led them back to the warm car. “We have to go to the Lifeboat,” she said.

“Why?” Flynn did not think Lucy escorted him to a trap, but neither was he willing to take a chance on her team.

“Because Ethan needs to know how it works,” she said. “He needs to see it work. Wyatt should be back there already. That’s the plan if we ever get separated.” She hoped Wyatt returned to the Lifeboat and was not out scouring the city for her. She hoped Rufus was not doing the same thing, especially with his gunshot wound. “I’ll go with you, Flynn,” Lucy promised, “in the Mothership. I’ll leave with you so I can’t… change anything after you’re gone.” She would not leave his side. “But we have to do this first.”

“All right,” he agreed. It made sense and he could not object.

They got back in the car. Flynn kept his gun tucked away. He had decided to trust the man, Lucy’s grandfather, her family.

“Well?” Ethan prompted, drowning in curiosity and concern.

Lucy put the car in drive and made a sharp turn to take them back the way they came. “Not today,” she said. Rittenhouse received a sixty-year pardon.

“Not to… When?” He was anxious for an end to it all. He would have to wait.

“I can’t explain yet,” Lucy told him. “But soon.”

“Don’t worry,” Flynn cheerily said. “You’re still not dispensable.” Ethan was safe.

By the time they neared the city, it was early morning. When they made it to the warehouse where the Lifeboat was stored, the sun was coming up. Lucy was so tired. She was three days without sleep and running on empty. But it was not yet the time to rest.

Ethan was more surprised by their reception than Wyatt and Rufus were to see Flynn. It was a hostile arrival. Wyatt pulled his gun as soon as he saw Flynn get out of the car. Lucy stood between them with her back right up against Flynn, leaving no separated space between them, no opening for a shot.

“Lucy!” Wyatt exclaimed.

“It’s okay,” she promised. “He’s not here to hurt anyone.”

“He had Al Capone shoot me!” Rufus yelled.

“He kidnapped you again,” Wyatt stated.

“I went with him,” Lucy said, proving freewill. “I asked him to take me. And when I asked him not to kill all of Rittenhouse, he listened. He didn’t do it. Please, it’s all right.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Rufus said. “We gotta get Jiya back home. She’s in the Lifeboat. Something happened to her.”

“What?” Lucy questioned. “What are you talking about?”

“Probably has to do with carrying too many people,” Wyatt said. They obviously spent the night talking about it, worrying about it.

“We gotta get her back,” Rufus insisted. He did not care about the showdown going on. “Now.” He looked between Wyatt and Lucy, urging them to drop it.

Begrudgingly, Wyatt put away his gun. He kept a heavy glare on Flynn. It was a safe enough assault that Lucy could step away. She went forward and explained time travel to Ethan. He met them with understandable disbelief.

Not needing more added onto the overwhelming moment, Lucy was grateful Flynn did not make a spectacle of them in front of the team. He kept a professional distance and did nothing so obscene as kiss her or lean in too close, whisper in her ear. He was an exhibitionist in front of Ethan. With Wyatt and Rufus, he knew better. He knew what could hurt them. He knew who could change Lucy’s mind, talk sense into her. So he stayed away. He acted decently civil towards Wyatt and Rufus. He spoke when spoken to, and he did not approach until the Lifeboat was gone.

Ethan believed in time travel.

When Lucy told him she was his granddaughter, his immediate response was to remark on how she looked like his mother, her great-grandmother. Following that, while still processing, his eyes drifted to Flynn with obvious thoughts. He saw them together on the road. He could not have missed it. What he ignored before with strangers carried a different weight once Lucy was related to him. If he felt a familial, gentlemanly obligation to object, he subdued it and said nothing, unsure of his place in her life.

Lucy kept them focused on what really mattered. She told him her plan, the plan to stop Rittenhouse, the plan that depended on him. Lucy made the decision— for them— to trust Ethan. Flynn trusted her. Together, they convinced him.

“You know how Rittenhouse operates,” Flynn said. “You know the consequences. You know how they make examples of failures, deserters, traitors.” Flynn knew more about Rittenhouse than Lucy. Ethan knew more than Flynn. “I want you to understand…” He came closer to Ethan, penetrating his personal space. “Understand that I am… I’m learning… their cruelty. Understand what they’ve done to me.” He inhaled deeply. “My daughter was five,” he stated. “Your son is two. But I think we can both agree, Ethan, that tragedy is not a numbers game.” Lucy did not think Flynn could kill a child. She had watched him struggle with it before. But there was also no telling what he would do when pushed to the brink. “Do you understand that, Ethan?” Flynn encroached even further upon the man. He dipped his head and stared into his eyes. “Do you understand?”

Ethan nodded but could not form words. He was terrified. Lucy intervened.

“Stop,” she said. “Please, just- just stop.” She pushed on Flynn’s arm until he allowed himself to be moved out of the way. She stood in front of her grandfather. “Ethan,” she said, “we don’t want to threaten you. We know you hate Rittenhouse, and we know you want to see them taken down just as bad as us. We can do that, but we need your help.”

“Yes,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll try.” They could depend on him. He would work within his capabilities.

Flynn walked to the driver’s side of the car but only to climb into the backseat once more. “You can drive,” he said, giving Ethan permission like he had final say. “Lucy?” His request was clear. Lucy got in the back with him.

As they drove, Lucy went over the finest details of her plan. Flynn was quiet, but she knew if he had anything to add, he would. He was satisfied with her explanation. He held her hand and rubbed his thumb across the back of it in a gentle caress. When her words ran out of momentum and the car went silent, Flynn moved his arm behind Lucy’s shoulders. His hand curled closed and he stroked her right cheek with the backs of his fingers. It was a very tender, sweet touch. It was very visible in the rearview mirror.

“You guys are, uh,” Ethan cleared his throat, “you’re married?” Flynn wore a ring, but if Lucy had a matching one, her glove covered it. He assumed. “You know, in the… future?”

“We’re…” Lucy sighed. There was no good explanation for it, not even by the looser standards of the 21st century. “We’ve known each other a few months now.” It was the best she could offer.

“I assure you, sir,” Flynn said, a noble statement almost undone by his smirking lips, “I have only the, uh, best intentions with your granddaughter.”

They kept his secret and did not judge. Ethan was obligated to return the favor. “Okay,” he said, “all right.”

Lucy knew Flynn wanted to kiss her again and make some sort of point. He forewent the uncomfortable display. Ethan knew about them— Ethan, and no one else. He was the only person they could carry on around. That Flynn did not take advantage of it told Lucy they were done for now. They would be done until they were alone again, and there was no telling how long that would be. They were mature enough to keep themselves off each other. But Flynn did keep a hand on her at all times, touching Lucy, taking advantage of the privilege.

“You’re tired.” He could tell.

Lucy did not bother lying. “Yeah,” she murmured. They would be done soon.

Flynn pulled on her shoulder, drawing her in until she rested against his side and laid her head on him. Lucy closed her eyes and dozed but did not sleep. She listened to Flynn give the occasional direction that led Ethan to the Mothership. It was a short drive.

Unintentionally, Lucy thought of when she was a child and pretended to be asleep in the car so her father would carry her to the house. That did not happen now, of course. Flynn patted her on the arm. “We’re here.” He let Lucy rouse herself and sit up before he moved.

They said goodbye to Ethan and let him return to his family after being gone all night. He insisted on staying to watch another time machine take off. It was an understandable fascination.

Flynn ignored all questions and comments from Emma. They left. When they jumped to Flynn’s hideout and disembarked, he stared at Emma until she took the hint and walked away. With such a demand for privacy, Lucy assumed he had something important to say or do. Flynn made no actions to verify that.

“Wish me luck,” Lucy said, starting the farewell conversation herself before she left to meet with her grandfather for his first time in sixty years.

“No,” Flynn refused, “I have… too much depending on this to rely on luck.” He had difficulty relying on anything other than his own two hands. “But I’ll count on you.” He tried to smile, but he was too anxious over the whole situation to keep it going. “You always find a way, Lucy. I’m putting my trust in your, uh, proven… effectiveness.”

Lucy felt every ounce of the burden Flynn gave her to come through for him. “I won’t let you down,” she promised. He nodded and said nothing. He waited for Lucy to do something. He waited for her to kiss him again— instead of the other way around. Flynn wanted a voluntary goodbye kiss. Lucy swallowed. She looked around the wide, open warehouse. Emma was nowhere in sight. They were alone. “Can you, umm… Can you lean down for a girl?” she asked with a nervous chuckle. Flynn smiled and obliged.

He no longer cared if he messed up her hair.

The goodbye after that was slower and less awkward. A possibility hung in the air, something to come back to besides business. Lucy found she liked it that way.

When she got to the city, Lucy called Wyatt’s phone. Rufus had taken Jiya to a hospital, risking detection for her when he would not even do it for his own gunshot wound. Lucy asked for company when she went to visit her grandfather.

Ethan was different, of course, very different after so many years, but he was the same around the eyes. He looked at Lucy, then Wyatt. “Where’s Flynn?”

“On the lam,” Wyatt answered before Lucy could, “like always.” He did not miss Ethan’s reaction. “But I’m guessing he probably forgot to mention he’s a terrorist.”

Ethan recovered quickly. “I know who Garcia Flynn is,” he said. “All of Rittenhouse does.” He looked at Lucy and confirmed for her, “I know he didn’t kill his wife and daughter.”

“I know.” Lucy lost her doubt long ago.

“I know who did,” he said.

Ethan gave them everything they needed to take down Rittenhouse. He recorded every name in the party responsible for the attack on Flynn’s family. Lucy was so grateful to him. She was glad to have the information for which Flynn depended on her.

Flynn was nervous when they met again, though Lucy felt a stranger would not pick up on it. She saw. She gave him the flash drive she promised. Flynn stared at it a moment then tucked it away in his pocket.

“I think maybe I’m owed the truth now,” he said. He did not need anything else from Lucy. She did not need anything from him. They could speak freely and jeopardize nothing. “Was any of it how you really felt?” A day apart gave him ample hours within which to second-guess and overanalyze everything.

Reluctantly, painfully, Lucy confessed, “It wasn’t.” She played along with Flynn, hoping to win his cooperation. It worked. “But then it was.” She fell prey to her own plot. Kissing Flynn opened two doors of opportunity. One was a strategy. The other was something else, something much more traditional. That thought concerned Lucy. It had since the moment she realized she enjoyed it, enjoyed him.

“Thank you,” Flynn expressed, “for telling… me… the truth.” Lucy knew it meant a lot to him. She wanted him to trust her. “I’ll be gone a few days,” he said. He planned on being thorough. One last trip and he would be done— forever. “When I get back, I might…” Flynn dropped his gaze down, down onto the concrete. “I might, uh, ask… you.. on a date.” He smiled at the ground. “Maybe do things the right way, get to… know each other… the right way, not in a journal or a, uh, classified file.”

He made himself so vulnerable and exposed. Lucy wanted nothing more than to take pity and say yes. She had to be more responsible than that, for both their sakes. “I think maybe,” she said, “you need to come back first, see your family, see what you…” She inhaled and blew it out in a tired sigh. “See what you still feel for your wife.” Again, Lucy felt jealous. Flynn picked up his head, ready to object. “Ask me again, Flynn,” Lucy interrupted, and she meant it. “Ask me again when you get back.” She would trust his proposal then.

“All right.” It was a mature, rational concession. Flynn read between the lines of her denial. All that was pending was the question, not the answer, and he had no worries on his end. How could he not smile over that?

Unfortunately, by the end of the next minute, Flynn would never trust Lucy again.