#we’re all sisters down here goes hard sorry Wyatt

[bestbirdlawyer]

thinking about this today

[keepswingin]

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

PART ONE: HUNTERS

(roo’s version)

.

“We don’t have time for this, we need to go now,” Willa snaps, her voice a harsh whisper. Wyatt, crouched beside her, the rest of the pack hidden behind them, goes to answer, but there’s a loud crack, gut-twisting as it shatters the stillness of the night, and the howl that follows is silenced by another crack.

Willa freezes.

There’s voices, distant but close, withered leaves crunching underfoot as they move in to inspect their fresh kill. Willa can’t see their faces, but she can see the dark shadows of their coats as they roll over Witt, her heart beating fast.

Wyatt watches alongside his sister, his own heart racing. They’re close enough that their shoulders brush together, the rest of the pack behind them watching with bated breath as the two werewolf hunters talk among themselves, the silver blades at the end of their rifles glinting in the shine of the moonlight.

“This ain’t the one we’re looking for,” the bigger of the two says, jabbing the steel toe of his boot into Witt’s hip.

“Which one is it then?” the short man grunts, scratching at his unkempt beard.

The taller man crouches down, grabbing Witt’s neck and tilting his head up, his pack marking held up towards the moon. “See this?” he says to the other hunter, yellowed fingernails digging into Witt’s pale cheeks.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“The one we’re looking for will have a special marking. Three lines across their cheek, same spot.” The taller man returns to a standing position, readjusting the rifle still perched on his shoulder.

“What’s so important about this werewolf?” the shorter man asks, obviously new to his craft.

“Any kill is a good kill. One more mutt gone. But I’m getting paid to bring this one back alive.” He steps over Witt’s motionless body, scanning the bushes around him with careful eyes. “Ain’t gonna mess this up.”

The shorter man follows after him, swinging his rifle around, pointing it in every direction he looks, finger primed on the silver trigger.

Wyatt knows they need to go. They couldn’t just sit here and wait for their death. This time was different. This time was very different from all the rest. It wasn’t just werewolf hunters, out for any kill they could find, sloppy in their greedy behavior and too heavy in their step. This time it was werewolf hunters promised something, in exchange for Willa.

His stomach twists at the thought of it.

“We need to go,” he mumbles, voicing his thoughts out loud. His sister is still beside him, and she barely glances over at him before signaling to Wana and Whin. They move up beside her, crouching on either side of her. Wyatt looks over, a question on the tip of his tongue, his eyebrows furrowing. “What are you—”

Her sharp eyes meet his in the darkness, glowing yellow in warning. “What’s best for the pack.”

She doesn’t want him to question her, doesn’t want him to act like the Beta he is. It causes the bad feeling already stirring in his stomach to grow uneasy. She’s done this with him a few times since becoming Alpha. Everytime he’s gone along with one of these plans, she’s ended up hurt. Being the Beta wasn’t a suggestion. It was his duty.  

She looks away from him to Wana, and then to Whin. She nods her head towards a group of trees bundled together in the distance, off to the pack’s left, the path back to their den hidden underneath. “Both of you to the treeline. You are to stay until everyone else makes it through. Understood?” 

Both wolves nod, the white streaks in their hair shining under the moonlight. Wyatt glances back over to the hunters, deadly silent in their approach, their guns flicking from one tree to another with calculated precision. 

They’re closer, too close, their boots leaving imprints in the dry dirt, not a sound between them as they listen for any noise. Willa turns to the rest of the pack, regarding each worried face, all ten of them. 

“The rest of you,” she says, her voice sounding brave, her far from it, “are to get to the treeline as quickly and quietly as possible. You are all to get back to the den, and be prepared to attack if one of them follows you. Do not let them near the pups, do not let the pups see, and leave no trace if you have to do what is necessary.” 

“What about you?” one of the wolves in the back whispers, fear twisted throughout their words. Willa doesn’t look at him, and Wyatt’s stomach drops. 

“Willa,” He goes to interject but she’s talking over him before he can, her voice a sharp hiss in the heavy silence settled around them. 

“I’m going to lead them away. Wyatt will lead you home.”

He immediately grabs her arm, his nails cutting into her skin. She whips her head toward him, her own hand flexing. They’re utterly silent, staring daggers at one another, speaking a million words the rest of the pack would never be able to understand. 

Willa and Wyatt had their own language, shared through looks and glares and smirks. Shared through silence so deep and so tense it seemed impossible to understand unless you’re them. 

There’s a snap beyond where they’re hidden, off to the right, and the werewolf hunters are on it fast, their rifles primed as they advance towards where the noise came from, the pack silent as they watch, Wyatt’s hand still clutching his sister’s arm. 

Willa knows it’s an animal a second faster than the men do, able to smell it’s scent and hear it’s haste to scurry away, and she uses the opportunity to pull away from her brother and usher Wana and Whin from the bush, “Go, go now,” she whispers to them, and they don’t need to be told twice. 

Both wolves take off, sticking to the greenery, their footsteps quiet, the rustle of their movement masked by the men talking over one another, their guns shoving aside bushes and leaves as the critter they’re chasing scurries from one spot to another. 

“What is it? It’s not a wolf, is it?” the shorter man asks, and the other man grumbles something and curses under his breath, lifting the sight up to his eye.

“I don’t care, shoot the goddamn thing anyway. It’s making too much noise. They’ll have time to escape.”

“Willa.” Wyatt says, but again she ignores him and quickly gestures to the rest of the pack.

“They’re almost to the treeline. Go. Be silent. You have no other choice.” 

The pack disperses. They follow the path Wana and Whin took, the two standing at the treeline, hidden behind brush as they crouch in waiting, gatekeepers to the path that leads to all they have left. 

“Wyatt go,” Willa tells her brother as she inches to the right. 

“I won’t,” he argues, sticking to her side. 

She turns to face him, her eyes blazing. “You need to go, right now. We’re not fighting about this, I will not let you or the pack get hurt because of—”

A shot is fired, startling both of them, their hearts leaping.

“Just a fucking raccoon,” the taller man spits, kicking the now-dead creature away from where they’re standing, his rifle resting on his hip. They turn back around, and Willa’s eyes catch on Weston as he passes between two trees, his shadow drawing attention. 

Her heart stutters to a stop. 

She goes to jump up, to do something, but Wyatt stops her, holding her down, a hand on her shoulder. “No, Willa, it’s too late,” and not a second sooner does the taller man raise his rifle and fire off two shots, one after another. The sound cracks through the forest, as Weston falls with a cry, clutching at his knee. 

“Nice shot Malek,” the shorter man says with a chuckle, shouldering his gun. 

“He’s mine,” is all the killer says in reply, something evil in his tone. 

Willa tries to move again but Wyatt keeps her still, holding her back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to her as the hunters reach Weston, the taller one, Malek, grabbing the injured wolf by the foot and dragging him out with a malevolent smile. 

“Wyatt,” his sister murmurs, and he only shakes his head, trying his best to calm his racing heartbeat. “Wyatt, we have to do something. The pack—”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“My pack is in danger,” she states, her voice hard. He turns his head and their eyes meet, Alpha versus Beta, sister against brother, one ready to fight, and one far too selfish to lose. 

He can’t lose her.  

“I don’t care,” he growls, his eyes flashing yellow. “My sister is in more danger.”

Malek rolls Weston onto his back, pulls a pistol from his waist and holds it toward him, barrel pointed right between his eyes. He cocks it, and then scans the trees around him. “I know you’re out there. I am here for one thing and one thing only.” 

Wyatt’s grip on her shoulder tightens.

“Come out, come out, come out,” the man sing-songs, his finger hugging the trigger. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” 

Wyatt can see the rest of the pack, hidden behind the trees, five left, five standing behind Wana and Whin. He wishes they had all made it through. He wishes he wasn’t about to do what he had to do to make sure Willa stayed safe. But there were no more wishes. Only nightmares.

Wyatt stands. 

Malek’s eyes immediately slide over to him, his fellow hunter raising his rifle and pointing it at the werewolf, a clear shot to his chest. He takes a few steps forward, his eyes flickering between Malek and Weston groaning from under him. Then there’s a glint in Malek’s eyes that sends worry shooting through Wyatt’s veins. 

Panic. 

Fear. 

“You’re not who I need,” he says, his eyes resting on Wyatt’s Beta marking, two lines instead of three. “So I don’t need you.” 

Everything moves in slow motion. 

One bullet enters Weston, and then another shreds the skin of Willa’s arm as she shoves her brother out of the way, taking a stand in front of him, blood soaking through her fingers as she holds them to the new injury.

“No,” she says, her voice shaking, her other hand holding onto the front of his shirt. “Don’t. Let him go, he isn’t a part of this. I’m the Alpha. I’m who you want.”

Malek lowers his gun. 

Slowly, he makes his way towards the two, stopping once he's arms-length to Wyatt, half-shielded by his sister’s body. Something wicked stirs in his eyes and then he’s reaching forward and ripping Wyatt away from Willa, the shorter man’s rifle digging into her back. 

Malek shoves Wyatt to the ground, his pant-legs scraping against dirt. “No,” he says, thoughtful. “I think we’ll bring him along for the ride, Alpha.” 

[you-were-always-faster]

Love is a Powerful Thing

Request: If you are willing to write Riverdale could you do a Wynonna Earp/Riverdale Crossover. Where reader is dating Betty. And she is the youngest Earp and one day a revenant tries to attack her and her sisters get involved. And the core four find out the Earp curse and it starts angst with Betty for keeping the secret. But could it have a fluffy ending.

A/N: Sorry its taking me so long to upload imagines. Also this was the most challenging piece I’ve written so far so sorry if it sucks, i hope it doesn’t, but I’ll take any comments or pointers as a way to improve so thanks. Hope you guys like this.

Life isn’t always simple. Life is complex and full of ups and downs. Life is full of hidden and unknown secrets, but you, you were supposed to be different. Your Ex had kept secrets from you and your sisters were keeping a secret from you and you didn’t want to end up having a bad relationship because of it. So when your sisters finally told you the reason for wanting you to leave town, you told yourself you would immediately tell Betty about it.  At least that’s what you thought before Doc Holiday swore you to secrecy. You should have never listened to him because now you were stuck with watching her and Jughead together. You stand at your locker thinking about the night everything had changed for you.

________________________________________________________________________________

You were currently in Betty’s room sitting on her floor doing homework. The two of you had two classes together and History was one of them along with English but you two flew right passed the English homework like it was nothing.

You were brought out of your thoughts by your girlfriend hitting you in the arm with the history book.

“Ouch, what the hell was that for,” you question turning to your girlfriend.

“Were you even paying attention to the homework question that I literally just asked you,” Betty laughs.

You stare at her and bite your lip before shaking your head.

With a sigh Betty puts the textbook down and gives you her full attention,” at least you’re honest.”

For a split second your smile falls before you plaster another one back on,” its one of my more positive features.”

Betty rolls her eyes. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

You make a face,” is it an optional question or one of those that you make sound like a question when really you just want an answer?”

Betty raises an eyebrow.

Sighing you close your textbook,” I have a secret that I just can’t tell you about. And I know that sounds terrible and you’ll hate me but I just can’t tell you.”

Betty frowned but nodded her head. “Is the secret something that will get someone hurt?”

You put on your poker face as you shake your head. Deep inside you could feel your heart shatter for lying to her face but you made a promise to your sisters and you took one of Doc Holiday’s oaths.

“Is there someone else,” Betty asks. 

You play all the possible options in your head before hanging your head. This was what you were going to have to go with in order to keep her safe. 

Betty taking your silence as her answers tears her eyes away from you,” do I know her?”

You felt your entire world crumble as she began to cry. “No you don’t know her,” you say picking up your books. “I’m going to go. I’m so sorry Betty.” You stand and grab your bag before running down her stairs and out to your car. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Closing your locker you feel Archie pat your shoulder. Archie was the only one who knew everything about you and your family. He knew it was hard for you to be away from Betty and to watch her become closer to Jughead. 

“You know after what happened with Jaelene I’m surprised you didn’t tell Betty about the curse,” Archie whispers to you as you two go to class.

“Yeah, well, when Doc has you swear that you won’t tell anyone on your life, you sort of do as he asks,” you say with a sigh. You were frustrated not only with Doc and your family but with yourself for not being honest. Had you been honest with Jaelene maybe she’d still be alive, but with Jaelene you had waited to long to break things off. 

“Oh come on,” Archie groans,” Doc isn’t even in Riverdale he won’t know if you tell her.”

“Archie, I know you’re trying to be a good friend and all but could you just let it go Betty is with Jughead anyways,” you walk into your English class that you share with Archie and Betty. You take your seat behind Archie and beside Betty. Betty thankfully wasn’t in class yet so the two of you kept talking.

“So not true but if you’re going to sit here and believe that then fine,” Archie says taking out his notebook and writing the notes down.

As class goes on you get an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. You look over to the seat next to you and notice Betty never came in. You text Veronica and Jughead to see if either had seen her or if she was with them. When both answer back with a ‘no’ you instantly start to worry. You hustle through the rest of your day making phone calls here and there to Betty and when you don’t get a text back or even a call back you call your sisters.

“Vincent is here Waves, no you don’t understand its not just about the… Fucking hell Waverly could you please stop trying to tell me that Revenants can’t follow me here.” Releasing a frustrated sigh you roll your eyes before telling Waverly about the Earp before Wyatt that lived outside of Purgatory. “Yes theres another completely different curse it only happens to the last child of the family. No, Waverly its not that. Waverly, are you going to let me finish or did you just want to speculate the entire time, because I am in a bit of a rush to get to my ex before she gets murdered by a revenant. No, I don’t know where...wait yes I do, the church in Purgatory I think by midnight he’ll do the dumb ritual. I’m driving as fast as I legally can Waves. Don’t put Wynonna on the phone, no Waverly please… hi Nona,” you grimace. Wynonna gives you an ear full as you drive to purgatory.

Once you get there you drive straight for the church and park a few yards away.

You run into the church glancing around looking for anywhere or anything someone could hide a body in. You glance at your watch before sprinting down the stairs in the church to the basement. 

“Betty are you down here,” you yell out. The first thing you notice is the ankle-high water thats rising slowly. The basement of Purgatory’s church was huge and stretched for at least a mile. The panic really started to set in when I thought of the number of rooms and boxes you’d end up having to go through. “Fuck my life.” You take off running to the end of the hall and start searching. 

“Y/N! Oh, this is like every horror movie.” Hearing your older sister call your name you sigh in relief. 

“Waves help me look through these rooms for Betty,” you yell from the room you’re in. 

“Come on Betty, where are you,” you say to yourself as the water rises to just slightly above your knee. Thinking back to the riddle Vincent told you the day he took Jaelene you run out of the room you’re in and run to the hallway looking for the door with the upside-down cross. “Waverly look for any upside-down crosses.

 After finding three you begin to piece together the riddle. 

Waverly glances at you and then at the waist-high water. “The others started looking around town shortly after you called. Any ideas where your girlfriends is?” 

You think long and hard about the riddle before looking up,” Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“The bell. She’s chained to the bell. Which means,” You get cut off when something pulls you under the water.

Squirming you kick at the revenant that grabbed you. Your sister ends up underwater next to you and you instantly grab for the dagger hidden in your boot and stab the revenant before resurfacing. “Come on Waves we have to get to the bell and we’re running out of time.” 

You and Waverly wade through the water to the stairs leading back up. You spot your sister, Doc, Nicole, and Jeremy fighting off some of Vincents revenant friends. 

“Waverly I have to get to the bell and tell Betty the truth or else she will plummet into that basement full of water and I refuse to let that happen. So, you are going to come with me and distract Vincent so I can tell her the truth.” Waverly looks like she’s about to argue when you had her your dagger. “You might not share the same Earp blood but it’ll work for you.”

Waverly nods before following you up the stairs to the bell. As you get to the last time you spot three revenants and instantly tackle one taking his weapon and using it on the other two before kicking him out of the window.

You look for the rope to pull the bell towards you. “Hold on Betty, I’m going to get you out of this mess.” You pull on the rope before tying it to one of the window panes. “Betty I have to tell you something. I’m not who you think I am. You know how I always get mad in history class when we talk about Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday.” Seeing Betty nod you notice the strap in her mouth. You go to remove it and continue,” I’m an Earp and Earps have this curse where revenants come back to life. But that’s not the only curse we got stuck with. The last child born to the family after age sixteen has to tell the person they love the most the truth about the curse or they’ll die and it’ll count as one of Wyatt’s kills. Anyone that an Earp kills will be brought back to life as a revenant and the only person that can kill a revenant is an Earp,” you say as you hear Waverly yell your name. You look to where she is and gulp,” look I know that’s a lot to take in at once but the catch to my curse is you have to find it in your heart to forgive me even if its not now but thats the only way that those chains will let you go. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but if you could find it in your heart to forgive me one day I’d really appreciate. And also sorry for lying it was Doc Holiday’s idea not mine.”

“Y/N!” Waverly yelled as she gets tossed into you. Wynonna comes up the stairs with Doc close behind. 

“Fucking hell, I’m tired of this shit. This is why I moved in first fucking place,” you groan sitting up. Waverly hands you your dagger as you stand up. 

Vincent takes Betty as the chains break meaning she has or will forgive you. “Tell your sister to drop it or your girlfriend dies.”

You look at Wynonna than make a face,” wait, what? We broke up. She knows the truth, she’ll forgive me whenever she wants why are you making this so difficult.”

Vincent laughs and you make a disgusted face. “Thats not how your curse works she had to break up with you but you broke up with her. She had to fall out of love with you.”

You look at Doc as you feel your blood boil. “Did...Did you just feel like leaving that part out? Did you not do your research? You said if I broke up with her she’d be fine you didn’t say that her falling in love with me would complicate things. What you have nothing to say? I had to lie to her face twice because you said she’d hate me after.” 

Doc holds up his hands,” I thought-”

“I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do and thinking for me,” you yell at the three. “I lost my friends because of you but I’m not losing the one person I love more than life itself because you idiots.” You turn and toss your dagger into Vincent's arm. Wynonna takes that as her cue to shoot him and send him back. 

“Nice job Y/N,” Wynonna says. She gives Betty a nod. “And you must be Betty. I wish we had met under different circumstances.”

Betty nods. “Me too.”

Waverly smiles at Betty before hugging her,” thank you for taking care of my sister.”

Betty smiles looking at you over Waverlys shoulder.

“Doc you and I are going to have a long talk about why you don’t interfere in Y/N’s life,” Wynonna growls. She gives you a pat on the back before going back down with Doc and Waverly. 

“Betty I’m so,” your cut off when you feel her crash into you. 

“You should have told me, we promised no secrets and I told you all about the things I’ve done,” Betty says.

You hold her close as you feel tears run down your cheeks,” I know and I regret not telling you. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to like freak out and stuff but I realize that lying to you was a big mistake and if I could change what happened I would.”

“You know he wasn’t wrong.”

“Huh,” you ask into her shoulder.

“I did fall in love with you and even after that night I was still so madly in love with you,” Betty says.

Pulling back you frown at her with raised eyebrows,” we have to talk about your standards. I literally said I cheated on you and you still loved me after? Honey.”

Betty laughs punching you in the arm,” shut up you ass.” She captures your lips with hers and gives you a soft kiss. “Lets get back to Riverdale before people think something happened to us.”

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: xx

welcome to what is absolutely gonna me losing my goddamn mind over these two all week and double hard after the finale. so, the ush.

part xix/AO3

Lucy wakes up the next morning (well, she’s already been up twice, at one AM and then at four, and by the time she is summoned again at seven, figures there’s no point in going back to bed) and shuffles downstairs to find that Amy, wonderful soul that she is, already has the coffee going. Lucy sits down with a groan, shifts Lily to her other shoulder, and lets the life-giving fumes waft up her nose. This will be her first proper hit of caffeine in months, and she is ready to feel good, dammit. As she sits there basking, she says, “Did you talk to Garcia before he left this morning? He was gone pretty early.”

“I woke up as he was coming downstairs, but we didn’t talk.” Amy pulls the pot off, pours it into two mugs, adds cream and sugar to hers, and gives Lucy hers black. “I figured he was off to grab his evidence backups, or wherever he was going. Or that you were both awake because of the munchkin.”

“I was. Briefly.” Lucy has a vague memory of Flynn getting up around the same time she was returning from the four o’clock feeding, but she was already falling asleep on her feet and was out by the time she hit the bed again. “Very briefly.”

Amy snorts, raising her mug. “In that case, here’s to caffeine. Sláinte.”

Lucy picks it up, takes a sip, and moans in ecstasy, unable to gulp it in embarrassing amounts because it’s still too hot. She blows on it a few times, then sips again, performing a delighted little wiggle from head to toe and scoffing at her sister’s smirk. “What? You try it!”

“I’m good, thanks,” Amy says. “But that was adorable. How are you feeling today?”

“A little better.” At least physically, Lucy thinks, though she’s still not up for any triathlons. The argument with Flynn yesterday rocked her, and she has the distinct sense that it has not been resolved or released, even if they did try to silently make it up last night. She starts to get up to make herself breakfast awkwardly one-handed, but Amy waves at her to sit and goes to put in some toast. “Amy, about this – this time travel stuff. Do you really buy it?”

“Everyone else seems to be serious about it, so…” Amy opens the fridge to get butter and jam. “I guess? I like to keep an open mind about things. You know me, I’ve always been into the idea of ghosts and aliens and parallel worlds and stuff beyond what we can see. That was what drove Mom crazy. You two being the sensible solid historians, the ones who worked with facts and logic and empirical evidence, and I was out there being all New Agey and woo-woo. Now, I guess – ” Amy stops, then continues in the determinedly casual voice that means she doesn’t want to be heaping too much of her own pain on Lucy, a shared trait of the Preston sisters. Wherever that compassion came from, it clearly wasn’t Carol. “Now I guess it doesn’t matter what she thought, huh?”

There’s a brief silence. Then Lucy says quietly, “I can’t believe she did that to us.”

“I can.” Amy unscrews the raspberry jam with more than the necessary force and digs her knife in. “I loved Mom – I still do, that’s not gonna stop, even if it’s complicated – but I could never understand how you couldn’t see her manipulating you. Her love always came at a price, her approval was always conditional, she never let you make mistakes, or at least live with them. She pushed and pushed and pushed, and you kept giving it to her and thinking it was your fault that you hadn’t been good enough before. That was why I wanted to move out, even if it meant I was living in a crappy apartment and struggling to pay my bills, rather than let her do to me what she did to you. And I could have spoken up more, I could have done something, rather than just assuming you were smart and you’d figure it out and it wasn’t my business to get into the middle of that. So. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. God, it’s not your fault.” Lucy gets up and hugs Amy fiercely, one-armed, Lily still snoozing in the other one. “You’re just my kid sister, you should never have had to do that. That shouldn’t have been on you.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, low-voiced. “Maybe. But it was, and I blew it.”

“No, you didn’t. Okay, Ames? You didn’t. You didn’t.” Lucy grips her shoulder hard. “We still have each other, and I have Garcia and Lily, and we’ll – we’ll make our own family. Family isn’t just blood. If this is going to be how it is, with us and Wyatt and Rufus, well – we’ll get used to it. It’ll be better.”

“I guess,” Amy says. She gathers herself together, and musters a smile. “But with all of this going on, it doesn’t seem like we’re about to have any cookouts or whatever soon, does it?”

“Maybe not, but we can do that later.” Even as she speaks it, the usual, casual reassurance – we can do that later, the assumption that’s always been the case for everyone everywhere – Lucy feels a pang. What if there is no later? What if all of earlier gets upended as well? She hesitates, then sits down with her toast, passing Lily over to Amy so she can properly eat. “I – look. Amy. I have something to tell you. It’s going to sound a little weird, but I guess you just reminded me that you can deal with it.”

Thus, not letting herself have time to change her mind, she tells Amy the full story of her future self coming to visit Flynn three years ago, the effect it had on him deciding to go great guns after Rittenhouse, insisting that it was time travel at stake, and the argument they had yesterday about it. Flynn thinking that the logical next step is to escalate the war before Rittenhouse can do it to them, that he has this insane plan of tracking and killing them through history, no matter the damage it could do to God knows what fiber of reality. That he scares her when he talks like that, she doesn’t know how she ends up as this other version of herself or if she wants to, and that he thinks Rittenhouse is trying to prevent them from ever meeting on the night of the car accident. That if they somehow pull it off, Lucy and Flynn will never meet, none of this will ever happen, and Lily won’t be born. A wrinkle in time, rather literally, but not one that can be fixed or unbent. They might not even know.

“Wait. Okay.” Amy has hung in there through most of this crazy shit, but she blinks hard at that. “How could someone just… vanish from history? Lily’s already born. She can’t just… not be born, right? How would that even work?”

“I don’t know.” Lucy sits back. “This is a situation that only comes up in those sci-fi movies, or Back to the Future, when Marty McFly has to make sure his parents get together so he exists. But I suppose that yes, theoretically, if they had the ability to change the timeline and stop us from meeting, she’d just… not be there.”

Amy clutches her niece protectively. “That is messed up.”

“Yeah.” Lucy finishes the last swig of her now lukewarm coffee, and pushes her empty plate away. “Not to mention all the other stuff that would change. I might never know about Benjamin Cahill, I wouldn’t know about Mom, or Rittenhouse, or Wyatt and Rufus. I would never have met Garcia. I’d just be – I don’t know. I don’t know who I’d be. Probably still at Stanford anyway, living the life Mom wanted for me. Still dating Noah.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Amy says. “In any timeline, you can do better than him.”

Lucy laughs weakly, despite herself. “He wasn’t that bad. He was a good guy.”

“Sure,” Amy says. “For someone else. Anyway. This is – this is definitely a lot, but thanks for telling me. We’ll figure it out, okay? We won’t let Wicked Witch Whitmore take this away from you. Did you say she works at Mason Industries? Can we ask Rufus?”

“Ask Rufus what? If he can fetch his evil coworker in for a chat, after she almost killed Flynn the last time she saw him, and destroyed all of his evidence on Rittenhouse? He’s probably in all kinds of danger if he does that, he might not even know who she really is.”

“Maybe not. Should we warn him, though? We don’t want him accidentally letting something slip, if he doesn’t know that she isn’t to be trusted.”

“Maybe, but then he has to see her every day and know she’s dangerous and…” Lucy stops. “No, you’re right. He deserves to know the truth. Mason Industries seems neck-deep with Rittenhouse anyway, they’re the ones paying for the time machine. It’s not fair to Rufus to just dangle him out in that sea of sharks.”

“He might know about it,” Amy points out. “He’s worked there for a while. There might be more he could tell us. Like how close it is to being operational, and – ”

Lucy shudders. “I don’t want it to be.”

“Because you’re afraid Garcia’s going to do – what?” Amy considers her closely. “Steal it, and go hog-wild screwing up history in the name of eradicating Rittenhouse?”

“Yeah.” Lucy hates admitting it, feels disloyal, but she doesn’t entirely trust what Flynn would do if that was an option right now. “Basically.”

“Maybe Rufus can sabotage it.” Amy gets up to clear the dishes from the table. “If he knows the truth about these people and what they’re going to do with it, then – ”

“That would put him in terrible danger,” Lucy objects. “It could cost him his job, his professional reputation. We definitely have no right to ask that of him.”

“Okay, true.” There’s a slight edge in Amy’s voice. “But if we are really going to stop these Rittenhouse maniacs, if everything you say is true and they are completely evil and willing to do whatever it takes to preserve that, maybe we have to figure out what we can ask, and of who.”

Lucy looks at her, startled and unsettled. “Don’t tell me you agree with Garcia.”

“I don’t know, frankly. And obviously I see where you’re coming from too. But at this point…” Amy trails off. “I’m not sure that I don’t not agree with him.”

Lucy doesn’t know what to say to that. Perhaps it’s significant that the two people she loves and trusts the most in the world have now had the same response to the situation, and she – just like her years-long pattern of making excuses for her mother, refusing to see what Amy is now telling her was obvious – is once more dragging her feet, reluctant to upset the apple cart as usual. But if this apple cart is all of time and space and known history, Lucy thinks she’s at least a little justified in keeping it upright. She’s a historian, she loves the past, she’s worked to understand it, to make it relevant to the present, to teach it in meaningful and engaging ways. That gives her some sort of mandate to be its champion, to protect it – whether from Rittenhouse, or from the man she loves. It twists and twists in her gut, it hurts almost physically, but she’s certain. She can’t let Flynn do this.

When she doesn’t answer, Amy seems to sense that she probably shouldn’t push. They clean up the kitchen, as Lucy puts Lily in the baby-sling and tries to think what to do. It’s almost nine o’clock, so she’d usually be at campus by now, unlocking her office and picking up papers and answering emails. She’s not used to sitting around the house and doing nothing, especially when there’s so much that needs to be figured out. Yes, being a mother is important work and all that, and Lucy’s not going to diss stay-at-home moms in the least (especially since she’s getting a sense of just how hard it must be), but she does other things with her time and her talents. She can’t just serve as a dispenser of food and clean diapers and naptime to an occasionally irascible small human, much as she loves her. She should do some research. See what she can find. Not that any of what she needs is likely to be online, or anything that she can get into (Flynn is another story) but still.

Lucy goes upstairs to get her laptop, and when she comes down, glances at her phone, thinking that there should be a text from him by now. They’re far from the kind of couple that constantly has to monitor the other’s whereabouts – they are both adults and can come and go as they please, without signing a register every time. But given everything that’s going on, and the fact of what happened the last time he rushed out without telling her what he was doing, Lucy doesn’t think she’s being unreasonable to expect at least some kind of touching base. He wouldn’t intentionally make her worry, or withhold contact just to be petty. Maybe he just forgot or didn’t want to bother her. She opens their chat and types, Hey, where are you? Left pretty early this am. Lmk when you have a minute. Xo.

Hopefully that doesn’t sound too worried or accusing, and Lucy puts her phone aside. She has just been trying to find the best way to position both Lily and her laptop when she hears a car in the driveway, and looks up. “Amy, is that Garcia?”

Amy peers out the front window. “Nope. It’s Wyatt. He has some lady with him, actually. Looks important.”

“Oh no, that must be the woman from Homeland Security.” Lucy jumps up, acutely aware that she has not yet showered and is still in her pajamas, as well as not wearing any makeup. “Is it rude if I run upstairs for five minutes to make myself presentable?”

“Honestly, this is your house,” Amy says. “And you just had a baby. You can look however you want.”

Lucy supposes this is true, even if she still feels self-conscious, as footsteps click on the walk and the doorbell rings. Amy gets it, admitting Wyatt (who looks as if he’s had at least a little sleep) and his companion, a trim, dark-eyed older woman with black hair cut neatly to her shoulders, a crisp pantsuit, and a folder under one arm, which she shifts so that she and Lucy can shake hands. “I’m Denise Christopher,” she says. “Department of Homeland Security. Sergeant Logan asked if I could stop by and hear something that you had to say?”

“It’s – it’s complicated.” Lucy nods gratefully at Wyatt, then tries to jiggle Lily with one arm as she wakes up and starts to fret. “My partner, Garcia, he’s the one who has most of it, and he’s out right now, but I’ll be happy to give you what I know. Just let me have a couple minutes to run upstairs, I’m sorry, I’m not very – ”

“I’ll be happy to take your baby for a minute.” Denise holds out her arms. “Don’t worry about apologizing. Go upstairs and freshen up if you want to, but certainly don’t feel obliged to dress up on my account.”

Lucy considers Denise for a long moment, and decides to trust her. She undoes the sling and hands Lily over to Denise, who boosts her expertly up onto her shoulder, pats her back with an air of firm authority, and gets her to calm down. It’s the reassuring older-woman motherly-competence thing that Lucy was wishing she could still lean on Carol for, and it briefly chokes her up. “I – ah, I’m sorry, I’m guessing you have kids?”

“My wife and I have two in grade school,” Denise says. “The early days can be hard. Do you mind if we have a seat in your kitchen?”

“That’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Lucy goes upstairs, jumps quickly in the shower, dresses, puts on a little makeup and brushes her hair, then checks her phone again. No response from Flynn; the message hasn’t been read. Renewed agitation prickles at her heart like thorns. God, he’s just been gone, he’s just been hurt. Please don’t say he’s off on another crusade already. Please.

She tells herself she can’t send another message yet, but she calls him anyway, and it goes over to voicemail without ringing. There’s too much of a lump in her throat for her to form words, so she hangs up, smiles bright and falsely at herself in the mirror, and walks back downstairs. Amy has taken care of supplying Wyatt and Denise with coffee, and they’re sitting at the kitchen table; Denise has a notepad open and is uncapping a pen. “All right,” she says. “Please tell me whatever you know about this organization called Rittenhouse.”

Lucy and Wyatt exchange a look, he nods at her to go first, and she takes a deep breath. Starts at the beginning, tells Denise about Cahill and the event in Marin County and Flynn rescuing her, then getting shot in Windsor the next morning. The trip to the University of Pennsylvania, Emma, the excursion to the house of horrors in West Point, escaping that and going back to some semblance of a normal life, but sending Flynn off for two years to hunt them around the world. The reveal that her mother was in on it, and that Flynn’s painstakingly collected evidence has been destroyed. Tells Denise everything, in fact, except about the time travel. She doesn’t want to sound completely off the ranch first thing.

A faint line gathers between Denise’s brows as Lucy speaks, and remains there when she’s finished. Denise taps her pen, clearly considering what to say, then looks at Wyatt. “And you’ve said that the Black Eagles case we both worked on had something to do with that, didn’t you? That they were funneling the drug profits to Rittenhouse somehow, and that they may have had something to do with the disappearance of your wife?”

“I think so.” Wyatt’s jaw sets hard. “Flynn does, at any rate, and he’s the expert on this. Though I notice he’s not here, again. But yeah. Thought that because I messed around with one of their golden gooses, they came after Jess in revenge. She’s alive, I swear she’s still alive. If it was just killing her, wouldn’t her body have turned up by now, a warning to stay in my lane or whatever? If she’s just gone, she has to still be out there. If we can save her.”

“I’m not unsympathetic to what both of you have gone through,” Denise says crisply. “This does fit with several other unexplained cases that have passed over my desk recently, and obviously you have encountered someone. But right now, all I have to back it up is your word, and that’s not something I can take to my superiors. It sounds like a paranoid conspiracy theory, and the government spends enough time with those. You said there was evidence that was destroyed. Where?”

“I…” Lucy hesitates. “I don’t know exactly. Garcia never told me where his safe house was, he didn’t want me liable. It’s somewhere up in the foothills outside San Francisco, but now it’s been blown up. So that’s not very – ”

“And why does your partner have an off-the-grid safe house that’s rigged with enough explosives to detonate at the drop of a hat?” Denise cocks her head and surveys Lucy critically. “You said he’s ex-special forces. For us?”

“He worked for the NSA for several years, it’s where he picked up the investigation on Benjamin Cahill in the first place. He’s been a – a freelancer for a while, though.”

“Hmmm.” Denise is clearly thinking that there are a lot more threads she could pull at this, given that the vast majority of Flynn’s activities since Lucy met him have been skirting the very edges of legality. “And where is he from again, exactly?”

“He was born and raised in Croatia, but his mother was American, he’s a dual citizen. He’s not a security risk.” Even as she speaks, Lucy can hear Flynn last night, saying that if America couldn’t survive losing Rittenhouse, maybe it doesn’t deserve to exist. “He’s a little… idiosyncratic, but his heart is in the right place. He’s just very opinionated, he’s done this for a long time, and he’s used to working alone.”

“I’d like to talk to him,” Denise says. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Soon, I’m sure.” Lucy damn well hopes so, at any rate. “Can I offer you any more coffee?”

Denise assures her that she’s fine, and starts asking them some more questions about Rittenhouse – any other names or dates or details they can remember. Lucy and Wyatt exchange a glance, as they’re not sure they should bring Mason Industries into the fray without Rufus here. Low-voiced, Lucy asks, “Should we call him? Is he at work?”

“Yeah, he’s at work,” Wyatt says. “He was acting a little weird this morning, though. Maybe we should give him a day off from the insanity.”

“Maybe.” Lucy has a brief unsettled feeling, though she can’t say why. “But this is something we need to tell her about.”

Wyatt looks back at the kitchen table where Denise is writing; they have stepped off around the corner to have a private word. Then he says, even more quietly, “Tell the government that Connor Mason’s invented a time machine and hasn’t bothered to apply for so much as a parking permit? Yeah, I can see that going really well. The place would be covered in red tape and federal agents tomorrow. There’s not any guarantee that that would go any better than Rittenhouse getting their hands on it. I vote no.”

This is essentially what Flynn said earlier, but Lucy can sense another resistance behind it. She tips her chin back to look at him. “You want to use that machine yourself, don’t you?”

Wyatt grimaces, but more as an unspoken admission that he’s been caught, rather than really denying it. He glances at Denise, then moves them a little further out of earshot into the hall. “Come on,” he says. “A time machine? A time machine? Who gets that chance, ever? We’re supposed to – what, hand it over to a bunch of cubicle-farm, pen-pusher bureaucrats who’d keep it in mothballs for eighty rounds of paperwork? No way. Rufus says they’re running advanced tests now, it’s pretty much going to be up and ready to go in a matter of months. If that’s the case, then – I can go back, I can fix my mistake, I can save Jess. Whether or not Rittenhouse ever coughs her up, it wouldn’t matter. I have to.”

“It’s – ” Lucy hesitates. “Wyatt, it’s not that easy. You can’t travel on your own timeline, you can’t go back to 2012, you wouldn’t be able to just pop in and have a re-do with her. You could only go back to somewhere before you were born.”

By the look on Wyatt’s face, that is something he does not like hearing. He whirls on his heel, stares at the wall, then whirls back. “There has to be a loophole. Someone has to have tried it. I don’t care if it’s risky, I’d only have to do it once. Or – what?”

Lucy winces. She doesn’t want to tell him about the whole future-version-of-her visiting Flynn, as that seems like it will get his hopes up in a way that will not necessarily be borne out. “I… heard about a case in which it might be possible,” she says evasively. “But I really don’t know the details.”

“Well, who does?” Wyatt glances at her, picks it up. “Flynn?”

“He – he knows something, but – ”

“Make him tell you, then. You’re married, or close enough. I’d tell my wife, I’d tell her everything, I wouldn’t keep it back. He’s MIA right now again, apparently, but whenever he gets back – he still owes me that information, remember? For what I did?”

“I know, I know.” Lucy can sense his barely restrained frustration and anger and grief, and she doesn’t blame him. Wyatt has been living in a stalemate, using up all his accumulated leave from the Army, where – frankly speaking – he would probably be happier, because at least another mission would keep him out of the squalid attic of his head. He and Rufus have become good friends, it’s better that they’re roommates than it would be if Wyatt was alone, but he still knows no more about Jessica’s fate than he did on the day she vanished. That’s a horrible way to live, one that Lucy would not wish on her worst enemy, and he deserves a breakthrough, to do something with all this. “I’m sure he’ll find it.”

Wyatt makes a noise in his throat that says he isn’t sure. His fingers tap neurotically against his thigh, a muscle works in his cheek. He looks like a man on the hair-trigger of an explosion, and Lucy, who is somewhat familiar with the sight, reaches out to put a hand on his arm. “Hey. Thanks for bringing Denise by, all right? Thank you.”

Wyatt’s blue eyes flick to her, startled, and they hold each other’s gazes for a moment. He coughs. Then he says gruffly, “Yeah. No problem.”

Lucy looks back at him, not sure what she’s about to say, when they’re distracted by the sound of the front door banging open. There’s only one person who would be entering the house like that, and she hurries down the hallway in abject relief. “Garcia?”

Sure enough, it’s him, looking windswept and grumpy, but at least no more banged up than when he went out. He looks at her in some surprise as she throws her arms around his neck, and allows her to pull his head down for a kiss. “Lucy, what – ?”

“I was just…” Lucy bites her lip. “I woke up, and you were gone again. I – I was worried.”

“I’m here now,” Flynn says, more than a little unhelpfully. “Is that Wyatt’s car out front?”

“Yes, he’s here. With Denise Christopher from Homeland Security, he brought her by. She’s in the kitchen, she wants to talk to you. She wants whatever evidence you have on Rittenhouse – is that what you were doing this morning? Getting the backups?”

Flynn shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get those.”

“What were you doing, then?”

“Later.” Flynn kicks off his shoes and strides into the kitchen like a Panzer brigade. He has clearly dialed the imposing factor up to eleven, and Lucy isn’t sure this is the best way to approach a federal agent who has already been asking a few pointed questions about his recent activities. She trots after him, feeling that a sudden need to play mediator might be called for, and steps in just as Flynn is staring at Denise, who in turn is staring back at him. There’s a pause. Then Flynn barks, “So you’re her?”

“Yes.” Denise gets to her feet and offers a coolly professional hand. “Agent Denise Christopher, from Homeland Security. You must be Garcia Flynn.”

Flynn grunts, as if to say that he is exercising his constitutional right not to answer stupid questions. Then he glances at Wyatt, who has stepped back into the kitchen, and something flickers across his face. Lucy can’t tell exactly what, but it unsettles her, somehow. Then Flynn says, equally ungraciously, “You’re here, I see.”

“Yeah. I brought her.” Wyatt stares back at him challengingly. “Because at least one of us follows through with what we said we were going to do.”

Flynn’s mouth twists. He moves to the coffee pot, discovers it’s empty, makes a noise of aggravation, and starts a fresh round. The silence remains tense and awkward as it brews, until Amy sticks her head in. “Hey, Garcia.”

Flynn makes a brief acknowledgment. “Where’s Lily?”

“In her bassinet thingy, in the living room. After Lucy and I looked after her this morning.” Amy’s tone is gentle, but pointed. “Feel like filling us in on where you were?”

“Apparently I have a lot of filling in I’m expected to do.” Flynn jabs the percolator, as if this is going to make it brew faster. “One at a time, eh?”

Amy raises both eyebrows at Lucy, who decides that for now, she’ll pretend she didn’t see that, and withdraws. Once the coffee is finished, Flynn splashes it into a cup and practically kicks out the chair across from Denise, sitting down with a jerk. “Well?”

“I have a few questions for you, yes.” Denise has managed to remain completely unfazed by the sight of a large man in a clearly foul temper, snorting and rampaging like a rhino stung by a wasp, since she is probably no stranger to it in her line of work. “If this is a bad time, I’d be happy to return later.”

“No. We’ll do it now.” Flynn swivels to face her with a wide, snarky smile. “Fire away!”

Denise utters a small sigh in the back of her throat, but commences going down the list. Flynn gives her a few answers, but when he remains utterly unforthcoming on the subject of his two years abroad, how exactly he tracked Rittenhouse, got money to do that, or basically anything whatsoever, she makes another, far more frustrated sound. “You know I can’t do my job with this if you don’t tell me anything, don’t you?”

“What do I have to tell you?” Flynn counters. “You asked me about Rittenhouse. That’s what I’m giving you.”

“You haven’t answered half my questions.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to get me to incriminate myself, then.”

“Is that an admission that you have something that might?”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Flynn stands up fast enough to almost knock over his chair. “Still sitting there thinking that Rittenhouse is just some paranoid delusion and the real problem here is me, aren’t you? Asking all these clever questions about, let’s be frank, things that are not relevant to the investigation, so you can finger me as the culprit. Either act like you really have come here to help, or get out of my house.”

“Garcia – ” Lucy starts. “Garcia, don’t – ”

Flynn completely ignores her, still staring evilly at Agent Christopher, who stares right back. Then Denise says, “I came here as a favor to Sergeant Logan, to hear about some evil secret society that’s supposedly implanted in all levels of American government, that’s been responsible for a long-term private terror campaign, is partially funded by drug cartels, and has unknown operational capabilities, and whatever else. Don’t insult me by acting like I wouldn’t care about that, if it was real. But if all you’re going to do is rant and rave at me and offer not a single scrap of concrete proof, there isn’t much that I can, or frankly want, to do for you. Now, are we going to keep talking or not?”

“As long as you don’t – ”

At that, Lucy clears her throat. Steps forward, and says, in the dangerously sweet voice that every man recognizes if he knows what’s good for him, “Honey? A word?”

Flynn glances at her almost guiltily, but Lucy doesn’t bother to wait and see if the realization has struck on its own. She jerks her head at him, and he hesitates, then gets up and follows her. She leads them down the hall, away from both the kitchen and the living room, shuts the door, then turns on him. “You stop it right now. Right now.”

Flynn blinks. “I – ”

“Be quiet, I’m talking. I’m not even going to ask you what you were doing this morning, though frankly I would be entirely within my rights to do so, but if you keep bellowing and stamping and posing like a bull in the ring, I might change my mind. Denise is here as a favor to Wyatt. She doesn’t have to be here, she didn’t have to spend most of the morning listening to us, and she definitely doesn’t have to sit there and swallow you acting like a jackass. We barely have any allies in this as it is. Are you going to drive them off because they’re not you? Or maybe you have some better idea about who we should be talking to, some other contact who’s willing to come out here and work this through? Or are you just acting like this because Wyatt brought her, and you have some kind of hangup about Wyatt right now? More than usual, that is?”

Flynn flinches. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Finally, he says, “I – I didn’t – ”

“Just don’t.” Lucy feels incredibly tired, in a way far deeper even than the first-night fatigue of dealing with a baby. “Either answer her questions like a human being, or tell her to go, if you’re somehow so sure we can do this without any outside help at all. For the record, I don’t think we can. But you’re the expert here, aren’t you?”

Flynn flinches again. A dawning awareness crosses his face that yes, he done fucked up, and he looks at the floor. Finally he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Lucy isn’t going to hold out to punish him more, tempting as it might be, because that would go against what she just told him to do. “These people are on our side. Don’t lash out at them just because our enemies aren’t yet in reach.”

She sees a sigh shudder through him from head to heel. Again, quietly, he says, “I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t – I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” Lucy steps closer and rests her hands on his chest, as his arms come around her waist. The usual way they find themselves standing when they’re close, tucked up in two neat halves. “I’m just – I’m worried sick, my mother just betrayed me, we have a newborn, and we’re trying to launch an investigation into these evil people, and those are only our somewhat ordinary problems. I need you to be there for me, Garcia. I need you. If any one man in the world could fight Rittenhouse, it’s you, but…” She stops. “Lily and I need you to be more than the soldier, all right? We need you. Just remember that. With what we’re doing, there can be secrets, but there can’t be lies. Not between us. All right?”

Flynn hesitates, then nods. Reaches up with one hand, takes hers, and raises it to his mouth to kiss her fingers. “I don’t think either of us want a fancy wedding,” he says gruffly. “Though if you do, we can work it out. Still, even if it’s just at the courthouse, I want to properly marry you.  That is, if you – ”

“Me too.” It’s not a very traditional proposal, though they’re far from a traditional couple, but Lucy feels a smile wide enough to hurt her face starting to spread across it. “I – I want it. Very much. Now can we go back and finish talking to Denise properly?”

Flynn nods, bends down to kiss her quickly, and that’s it, that’s all the discussion they need. They walk back to the kitchen, where everyone looks slightly thrown by the delighted grins – they definitely were not expecting for Lucy to drag Flynn off in trouble and them to then return engaged – but decides not to ask. Flynn sits down and answers (most of) Denise’s further questions in a markedly more conciliatory tone, as Wyatt catches Lucy’s eye and is clearly very curious to know what happened there. Lucy mouths later, goes to the living room to check on Lily and Amy, and glances occasionally at the kitchen to see if she needs to run interference. Amy, spotting her face, says, “That’s not exactly the expression I thought you were going to have, to be honest.”

“I… told him off. It felt good.” Lucy shrugs awkwardly. “And we decided to actually get married, so there was that.”

Amy snorts. “Deciding to get married in between an argument about the best way to take down Rittenhouse? Sounds like you two.”

“I guess.” Lucy thinks of Noah’s first proposal, which checked all the romantic boxes: sunset on the beach, champagne, rose petals in the picnic basket and a ring tied with a tulle ribbon. Sweet speech that started off with how some author or poet had once defined love, and explaining how she fit that for him. It was nice and he had clearly put thought into it, and she felt very bad about turning him down. Saying that she really liked him, but they were still young, and it felt early. He took it as best as he could, and they sat awkwardly side by side without talking much for the rest of the night. Tried to stay in the relationship for a few more weeks after that, but a failed marriage proposal is kind of a sign that you aren’t on the same page, and they decided to go their separate ways. God, that feels like forever ago. Looking back on herself, trying to get back together just because she didn’t want to be lonely, makes Lucy feel vaguely embarrassed. And yet, a little frightened. Her relationship with Flynn is nothing like her relationship with Noah; she knows beyond a doubt that whatever time she has, she wants to be with him. But what if she ends up alone anyway? Or worse.

Fine, Lucy tells herself. She’s a big girl, an independent woman, she can live without a man. She’s certainly not wishing she picked Noah just because he might have a longer shelf life, and she doesn’t have any regrets. Anything she can do to tie herself and Flynn more concretely together, another reminder to the universe that they’re supposed to be this way, they chose it and they’ll keep it, also seems appealing. As he said, they don’t need fuss. Her mother was the one who envisioned a big white wedding. A courthouse ceremony is fine.

Hearing the interview winding down, Lucy gets up and goes back into the kitchen, as Denise is shutting her notepad and thanking Flynn for his cooperation in a still slightly pointed tone. As she’s reaching for her bag, she thinks of something, and glances at Lucy. “Your mother is Carol Preston? Former Stanford professor of women’s history, Carol Preston?”

“Yes.” Lucy grimaces. “As I said, she… can’t be trusted.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Denise unzips her purse and puts her things in. “I’ve read all your mother’s books, I very much enjoyed them. She shaped a lot of my thinking. I know it’s nothing to compare to what you must feel, but it’s disillusioning for me as well.”

“She… shaped a lot of my thinking too.” Lucy’s throat feels raw. So much of who she is, for better or for worse, as a woman, a scholar, an academic, is filtered through Carol’s lenses. They’ve been things Lucy has liked about herself for a long time. Even when her leave ends, can she just go back to Stanford and continue in that legacy? It feels like it would be very difficult to set foot in those hallowed halls again, much as she loves them, and keep pretending that she doesn’t know what she now knows. As if she already knows that she can’t go back. To that life, or that job, or that person, or that home.

Denise shakes their hands, tells them that she’ll try to see if she can pull anything solid out of it, and she and Wyatt leave. Once they’re gone, Lucy checks that Lily doesn’t need anything, then shuts the kitchen door and turns to Flynn. “Okay. Where did you go this morning?”

Flynn grimaces. “I thought you said you weren’t going to ask?”

“Yes,” Lucy says. “I know. And if there’s some very good reason you can’t tell me, I won’t ask again. But if it wasn’t getting the backup Rittenhouse evidence, then… where?”

There’s a long pause as Flynn leans against the counter, arms crossed. As usual, he looks too big for the room. Finally he says, “I was testing information.”

“What information?”

“Last night.” Flynn sounds reluctant, but he is keeping his promise not to lie to her. “I got a strange call, that’s why I got up. I don’t know who it was on the other end, it was scrambled, but it told me that the name I was looking for was Wes Gilliam. Repeated it several times to make sure I had it, then cut off. I don’t even know if it was a real person, it didn’t sound like one. I assume that the name is the one I promised Wyatt. About who is responsible for his wife’s disappearance.”

“Wes Gilliam?” Lucy blinks. “Is that who you were looking into?”

“Yes,” Flynn says. “I’m not some local cop. I still have my sources, my strings to pull, even without the safe house. Wes Gilliam is currently in jail in San Diego, he’s responsible for killing at least two other women. The blood at the crime scene that wasn’t Jessica’s, it was his. He wasn’t in prison when she went missing, so at least theoretically, he could have killed her. But they found the bodies of Gilliam’s other two victims, partially dressed and – ” He pauses briefly. “Sexually abused. They still haven’t found any trace of Jessica. It’s not quite his modus operandi. So I’m still not entirely sure.”

“But it’s a name,” Lucy says. Thinks of Wyatt’s anger earlier, that he’s been boxed in like this and is desperate to do something, anything, to put an end to the hellish limbo. Even possibly stealing a time machine, at which he might well agree with Flynn that that is the only way. “We promised him some kind of lead, any lead. We’re using too many people, Garcia. We can’t just take what we want and give nothing back.”

“If we do give this to him, though.” Flynn restlessly pushes off the counter. “What does he do, huh? What does he do? Probably quits the Rittenhouse investigation on the spot and goes AWOL. He knows about the time travel now, knows that just killing Gilliam won’t solve the Jessica mystery. I don’t think he’ll stop there.”

“You’re not really one to talk about going AWOL,” Lucy points out. “Or quitting investigations to take up others.”

Flynn shrugs. “I’ve been going back and forth,” he says, after a long moment. “Whether we need Wyatt or not. But for now, unavoidably, we do. I can’t give him this information and tell him to sit peaceably and not do anything with it. It’s sure as hell not what I would do, and I’m not a hypocrite. I promised it, I intended to follow through. I still do. But if we give it to him now, and he runs off and fucks everything up, then – ”

“It’s his wife.” Lucy feels obligated to emphasize the fact that Wyatt wouldn’t exactly be ditching them to run off and hit the Strip in Vegas. “And he did hold up his end of the bargain. If he hadn’t – ”

“Rittenhouse might have scrubbed my records anyway,” Flynn counters. “It’s what they wanted, for me to stay here and in sight. So no matter what he did, they might not have come us for the sake of – ”

“We can’t do that.” Lucy puts her hands on the counter and turns to him. “We can’t play the what-if game. That’s exactly what they’re doing, that’s what is going to get us into trouble. I don’t care if things could have turned out differently or Wyatt could have done more or literally anything else. He did do that. We owe him what we promised.”

There’s a brief silence as they stare at each other. Then Flynn says, “Fine. You’re right. We should tell him. But not over the phone, and not for him to go off and do something stupid. I’ll drive over to his and Rufus’ apartment and tell him in person, try to get ahead of it as much as I can. I don’t think he knows the first damn thing about the details of the time travel part, but it won’t surprise me if that’s what he wants to try. He might also want to go to San Diego and interrogate Gilliam first. Could be I can work that angle for some kind of clue as to whether Gilliam himself is Rittenhouse, or just a useful fall guy.”

“So you’re only agreeing to tell Wyatt because you think you can mine the situation for intel?” Lucy isn’t sure she should be surprised. “Never just about altruism for you, is it? About doing the right thing?”

Flynn shrugs. “Altruism without pragmatism is always what gets the heroes fucked. I don’t care about playing by anyone’s milquetoast rules, especially right now. I’m going to tell him, but I need to keep an eye on him and see if I can work out why Rittenhouse gave us that name now. It had to have been them somehow, it’s not an accident. They’re pulling something with it, whether to separate Wyatt from the investigation or otherwise trip us up. Will you and Amy be all right for a few days?”

Lucy bites her lip. “I’m sure we can manage taking care of Lily, yes. But anything else. . .”

“Do you still have the gun I bought for you?”

Chest tight, she nods.

“Get it. Keep it somewhere you can access it easily, just in case. I don’t think Rittenhouse is coming after you here, not if they’re occupied with getting the time machine ready to hurt us more permanently, but I won’t take any chances. I’ll try to keep Wyatt from botching this too badly, but if he does – ”

“What?” Lucy raises both eyebrows. “Knock him over the head and stuff him into a broom cupboard?”

“Something like that.” Flynn is unfazed. “I feel like Rittenhouse is counting on him turning against us, or just dropping out of the hunt, but we’ll see. I also need to ask Rufus more about the technical capabilities of the machines. But when I get home, let’s go and get married, eh? Run down to the courthouse. Whatever else happens, I want you to be my wife. Rittenhouse may very well try, but I don’t think they can truly take that away from us.”

Lucy looks at him, as ever struck by how he can move from coldly talking tactics and strategy, the best way to work through what is undoubtedly a Rittenhouse manipulation of some sort, and with very little regard for Wyatt’s feelings on the matter, to telling her that she is the most important thing in the world to him, and literally all of time and space cannot take that away. She pauses, then steps forward, raises herself on her tiptoes, and kisses him. “I want to be your wife too,” she says, when she pulls away. “I love you, Garcia. So just – whatever you’re going to do, whatever you have in mind, whatever you think is necessary – remember that, all right? Remember that.”

He looks down at her with all the tenderness in the world, overflowing from his eyes and face and soul. “I love you too, Lucy,” he says. “And I believe that we can defeat Rittenhouse, we can save each other, and our daughter, and our family. Get the gun, eh? Get the gun. Then I’ll see you soon.”

Lucy doesn’t want to. As if she holds back on this one thing, she can stop the planet from turning, hold it in place with her bare hands, make time stand still, and nothing else would ever have to happen. The future would not rush at them like a freight train, the past would never seem so terribly unsteady, and the present would stay as it was, just this, just them. But she has to and she gets it, and Flynn kisses her one more time, ferociously. Then he picks up Lily and kisses her too, and closes his eyes as if to wish the tears out of existence, because his gaze is cool and focused when he opens them. And he says goodbye, and he goes.

It's mostly a quiet afternoon after that. Amy and Lucy sit on the couch watching more nineties movies again, Lily snoozing on Lucy’s chest (she seems to mostly be willing to go back to sleep once the immediate needs have been attended to, which is all you can really ask for in a baby). Her tiny hand is curled on Lucy’s shirt collar, her little body molded soft and boneless into Lucy’s as if she’s still part of it, and Lucy kisses her fuzzy dark head and strokes her back, joggling her absently. They finish up with Hook and to continue the Spielberg theme, are about to start E.T., when Lucy’s phone rings.

Startled, Lucy pushes herself upright with one hand and reaches for it. It’s Rufus, which surprises her for some reason. No reason it should, though. “Hello? Rufus?”

“Hey.” He sounds terse and abstracted. “Lucy, do you have a minute? I need – I need to tell you something.”

She frowns. “Is everything all right? Are you at work?”

“I – yeah, I’m at work, but…” Rufus hesitates, as if trying to gin himself up for something, and then it spills out in a rush. “Lucy, Connor made me spy on you for Rittenhouse. I didn’t want to do it, I’m not sure I even realized what it was for, but – I did. I did it. I’ve had a recorder in my pocket, it’s been picking up all our conversations through until the last time I was at your house. I had to turn it over to Connor last night, he said that if I didn’t, the consequences would be. . . it’s not an excuse, I did it anyway, but. . .”

“What?” Lucy’s chest clenches into a cold fist. “Rufus – what are you – what are you saying?”

“I spied on you,” Rufus repeats, agonized. “For Rittenhouse. Everything I was around for when we talked about it, they know it now. Lucy, I am so sorry. I can’t begin to make it right. You invited me into your hospital room, to your house, and I. . .”

Lucy can’t answer. Her throat has closed as well, and she can hear ringing in her ears, as she slides Lily off her chest and hands her to Amy, then gets up and walks into the kitchen hallway. “I trusted you,” she says, half wonderingly, half because nothing else seems to come to mind, nothing that she can get her tongue around. Extended Rufus access on Wyatt’s account, knows in the back of her head that he would not have had a choice, if Rittenhouse (whether via Connor Mason or otherwise) knew that these meetings were happening and needed to insert a mole on them. She half-wonders if Rufus is recording her right now, waiting for her to blurt out something he might not know – does he know about the Gilliam thing? That was after he left, and as far as she knows, she’s the only person Flynn told. And yet. Logical considerations, the rule and reason of her life, have flown directly out the window. In a croak, she repeats, “I trusted you.”

“I’m sorry.” Rufus sounds even more anguished. “I – I couldn’t live with not telling you, and I – Lucy, I needed to warn you. If Rittenhouse knows about what Flynn was – is – planning to do, then – ”

“I need to call him.” All at once, Lucy realizes sickeningly, if Rittenhouse already knew what Flynn was planning when they called to give him Wes Gilliam’s name last night, that could have been the final piece in their puzzle. However they were expecting him to react, whatever they wanted – she wants to shout at Rufus, even though she knows he’s much a victim here as the rest of them, but there is not time for that. “I’ll – talk to you in – later.”

With that, she hangs up and dials with shaking fingers, praying to every higher power she knows for Flynn to pick up. As she does, she unlocks the drawer and pulls out her gun, wondering if the time is about to come to use it in earnest. The phone’s still ringing, but he’s not answering, it’s like a nightmare where everything has stretched out and turned slow. She doesn’t even know if it’s only been a few rings, because every gap between her heartbeats is taking a thousand years. Jesus, Jesus –

And then, there’s a crash from the living room. Sounds like breaking glass from the patio door, as Lucy has to make a choice: gun or phone? Right now, with her sister and her daughter in danger while she can’t see them, and the knowledge that the trap is sprung, the culmination is complete, she doesn’t have time to think. Drops the phone, still spitting tinny echoes of its rings into the air, and runs back in, pointing the gun, as –

“Hello, princess.” Emma Whitmore looks almost amused to see her, standing in the rubble of the broken door. She’s holding Amy by the hair with one hand, as Amy is frantically clutching a screaming Lily, and twisting a heavy gun into her temple with the other. “Caught up with hubby dearest the other day, but I’ve been looking forward to seeing you. First, you’ll want to put that down, unless you want both of them to die. And then – well. We have a lot of unfinished business. I think it’s time to take a ride.”

[angelkurenai]

Boys - Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: Boys

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Imagine being Bill’s girlfriend and being casted to play Beverly’s older sister in the new IT movie. Even if you characters gets killed early you stick around for Bill and the kids who love nothing more than to tease him about your relationship because he is super sweet and cute with you.

“I wish I didn't have to kill you.” Bill mumbled, almost pouting at you and you just chuckled at him, shaking your head.

“You can't change the script, Bill!” you pointed out “But even as that, I promise I'm not holding a grudge on you. I'm sure if there is one man on this Earth whose arms I'd have to die in it would be you.” you said with a soft smile and for a moment he merely gazed back at you with a loving smile on his face.

“Die in my arms, not by them.” he said with an almost adorable frown as he looked down, swinging his long legs back and forth like a little child. Almost adorable because you couldn't tell much of your boyfriend underneath all the crazy clown make up he had.

“Baby” you giggled how cute he was despite it all “It's not your fault and you know that. Besides, come on Bill! I am very much alive and talking to you! It was just a scene, I'd love to have some on screen time with you but we couldn't have that. Let's just enjoy the time we have behind the scenes, yes?”

“I guess you're right.” he locked his fingers with yours, gazing down at your hands “It's just- It till feels a little fresh, that's all.”

“Bill” you let a soft sigh, realizing what he actually meant by that “Bill baby can you look at me?” you whispered, moving closer to him and cupping his cheek to make him face you because he obviously wouldn't otherwise “I am here, you know that right? You can see it. You can tell it apart, right baby?”

“I- I am. I really am and I'm sorry if I'm bring you down. It's just- I tried to put the least bit of emotion possible into it but I simply couldn't. And it just... it was too real that-”

“But it is not real. It may have looked like that but I am here, Bill.” you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I am just by your side and that's over. It was just a scene.”

“I'm sorry, sometimes- when it comes to you I just- I know I shouldn't even think about it anymore but it's pretty hard.” he confessed with a tight smile and you shook your head.

“No, it's absolutely alright and I understand but you could have told me earlier Bill. I wouldn't have just let it slip.”

“I know you wouldn't. You're too damn stubborn to.” he breathed out a laugh and you giggled, nodding your head.

“Damn right I am. Which is just why you are not going to get rid of me that easily!”

“I don't plan on trying.” he shook his head and you grinned, leaning in to press your lips on his hard. The moment you pulled away he only laughed more and you raised an eyebrow.

“You hang out too much with Penny, boo!” he pecked your nose and you instantly touched it. Pulling your hand away you saw some red paint had transferred there.

“Who knows, I might be him in disguise.” you giggled and he grinned.

“You know-” you sighed softly as his eyes fell back on your hands “I would have loved to be a little more around you and the kids in front of the cameras but that doesn't mean I am going to stop coming here because my character's dead. Besides, I guess-” you paused and shrugged “It would probably make the audience freak out to see Beverly's older sister making out with the creepy clown that wants to eat her and all of her friends!”

“Would it really?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at you “I mean it wouldn't be that hard to believe you could make even Penny fall in love with you.” he shrugged with a seemingly innocent smile “You're too beautiful to just kill on the first 30 minutes of the movie.”

“That's... both weird as heck and cute.” you giggled as he broke into a grin and wrapped his arms around you, your own resting on his chest.

“But come on, think about it!” he said so excited “Wouldn't it be a great plot twist? You are not actually dead but only hurt because he saw how gorgeous you are and decided to-”

“Bill!” you exclaimed with a giggle and he joined in with laughter.

“No Bev, of course your sister is not dead! There she is, sitting on the lap of the monster that wants us dead and giggling!” you recognized that voice as Finn's and you immediately turned your head to see all the kids right behind Jaeden who had a phone in his hand and no wonder recording.

“Shame on you Penny!” Sophia said, or at least tried to say, with all seriousness and menace “Corrupting my sister after everything else you've done to us!”

“I'd say it's more like the other way round!” Bill said in a Pennywise voice and then giggled just like when he was in character, looking at you “But I know she does never complain about anything either!” he grinned that characteristic smile.

You gasped “Not in front of my sister!” you hit his shoulder .

“And now you're slowly turning into a clown like you!” Finn gasped in fake shock “You're about to go down Penny!”

“But it's not all my fault!” Bill replied once more in Pennywise voice.

“Great, and now you are denying it?! I can't believe you, you are so lucky you have her close!” Sophia crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?” you looked at Bill “Oh now! Shame on you mister! I thought we had something going on here! I should have never left my family to be with you, you boys are all the same! No matter what species you're in! Or from what planet!” you scoffed, turning your head away from him but he tightened his hold on your waist to keep you there.

“No please, don't!” he pouted very clearly but you still crossed your arms over your chest.

“And for what? Sewers and floating kids. Yeah, no thanks!” you insisted with a hard look on your face, despite him pouting and giving you the puppy eyes.

“But I'll try to- to doll things up for you!”

“Oh yeah with what? Red balloons maybe? No thanks.” you scoffed as he whimpered slightly like a little puppy, a scary and weird puppy maybe, and truth was you had a hard time to not give in and either laugh or just hug him “It's over, Penny. We're done!”

“And cut!” Wyatt said and everybody cheered, clapping.

“Fabulous! Fabulous!” Jack's voice was heard above the cheering and you giggled as both you and Bill took a bow.

“Thank you, thank you! I'll make sure to dedicate my next oscar to all of you!” you giggled, letting go of Bill's hand as the kids run closer towards the two of you.

“Just dedicate it to me and it will be all enough!” Jack exclaimed, shrugging everybody else off and you giggled, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, if you want to hit on her get in the line dude!” Finn hit Jack's shoulder playfully and you grinned.

“Agreed, absolutely agreed! You're not the only one here!” Jaeden said matter of factly and you and Bill laughed.

“I'm sorry guys, but in case you haven't realized it-” you wrapped your arms around Bill's waist and he did the same “I am more into creepy looking dudes! And don't worry, you'll get it when you're older!”

“It's all in the smile, guys, it's the smile that won her over!” Bill said with a chuckle and you all laughed.

“But you stayed back on set not just for Bill and you've said it!” Wyatt pointed out and you nodded your head.

“Absolutely-” you said and watched as they all acted so full of pride “I couldn't leave Sophia all alone with you weirdos!” you completed and she giggled as they all at once scowled.

“That was a low blow! A low blow (Y/n)!” Jack said with a fake sad face before he once more fake cried on Jeremy's shoulder.

“It's ok Jack, it's ok. It hurt us all.” Jaeden patted his back as Jack fake sobbed and whined.

“Look how traumatized he is!” Finn said overdramatically “We all thought you did it for us! How could you not, (Y/n)?!” he added and Jack followed with another sob that honestly only made you want to laugh.

“Why?!” Jack sobbed and you snickered.

“We thought we were special for you! And you're doing this all for a clown!?” Wyatt asked just as dramatically.

“Well, Sophia and little Jackson as well but-” you didn't have the chance to complete your sentence as Jack sobbed once more even more loudly.

“No! That hurts my heart!” and he fake cried more.

“Alright you drama queens!” you couldn't hold back your laughter “Since your feelings are so hurt, I'll admit I may have stayed behind for you too!”

“See-” Jack was suddenly all cheerful “-I told you it was easy to get it out of her!

“Damn it, I still thought she'd insist longer! There goes ten backs!” he huffed, handing the money to Chosen.

“Goo! Now let's go find the clown make up and-” Jaeden started but he was cut off.

“So you wanna be little clowns don't ya?” Bill asked suddenly in a Pennywise voice making them jump but some chuckle.

“Well well well-” he grinned, letting go of you as he leaned down with a characteristic grin “Let's see who will survive first to get to the make up and then compete with me!” he said and made a go for them only to have them running away while laughing.

He pretended to chase after them but gave them a lead “What?” he asked with a pout and head tilt, making it all the more creepy because of the make up “Don't they want a balloon?” he asked you with a frown and you and Sophia laughed, shrugging.

He grinned, approaching you “I shall see you later my fearless ladies.” he gave you a small bow as you and Sophia laughed “I have some boys to go after!” he winked at you, grabbing you face and pressing a deep kiss on your lips and you heard Sophia giggle.

“I love you.” he whispered against yours lips and you grinned.

“I love you too.” you mouthed and with a finally, Pennywise, smile he was off to find where they were hiding. All the while his characteristic laughter echoing as he said he was going to get them all. It was a thing on set anymore in between takes and if someone from the crew ever run into a scene like it they would just pass by without a second look.

“Oh dear” you breathed out, sharing a look with Sophia.

“Boys!” you both said at the same time and laughed.

“Come on, let's go have some girl time before we can deal with them again. Someone's always got to clean up after their messes.”

[grizzlefur]

WWEm - Alliance Of The Smooth-Talking Evil Big Guys

Transmission date: Monday 29/Tuesday 30 May 2017.

.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON RAW covfefe

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(sorry, couldn't resist)

.

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(no more topical jokes, i promise)

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oh christ, it's the memorial day episode

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this is going to be uncomfortably political and MURICA, isn't it

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we're leading with john cena narrating a video package about how great the military are

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finally ends, long bit where we just listen to usa chants, and finally the titles

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we might actually get some wrestling on this patriotism show

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we've apparently carried on the military theme by replacing the stage pyro with fucking mortars

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that was somewhat excessive

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so yes

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double main event tonight to set up extreme rules

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bray/joe/finn and seth/roman

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but now, we have the miz

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and his impeccably-dressed wife

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and we've got carpet and chairs going on, so i guess this is miztv

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miz is so excited about getting his hands on dean ambrose it makes him make out with his wife

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there's a lot to unpack there

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nice recap spot as miz just tells us everything he's done over the last few episodes

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apparently rule-breakers are the people rules are made for

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that seems like a flawed system

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recap vt of miz giving elias the win over dean last time

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miz is just like hey if that happens on sunday i win the belt fancy that

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and now we have the guests

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cesaro and sheamus

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kkb in the hooooooouse

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in the graphics for their match at extreme rules, they've stopped using the broken gurning pic of matt

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sad times

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miz congratulates sheamus and cesaro for being the hardest-woirking team in the company

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can't fault him

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mentions the hardyz getting a cheap title shot, sheamus gets to go off on one about the fickleness of the fans, only emphasised by the delete chants starting

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miz puts his hand up, cesaro does the same, tries to convince his best friend to, sheamus is just like nah mate don't bother

.

miz has a rant about his ic title comeback tour, interrupted by dean's music

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he agonises for a bit over whether or not to get in the ring

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then stands at ringside and talks about his generally poor decision-making skills

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miz is like there's three of us and one of you learn to count you moron

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so naturally, cue some hardyz

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who stand there bouncing in time with their music along with dean for a bit

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and then throw the kkb out of the ring

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miz having naturally run away

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and then hit their music again, because this is the end of the segment?

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oh, wait, they're making it a 6-man tag

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jeff snapmares cesaro, but with a dropkick, because jeff legally has to be airborne for at least 40% of every match

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matt tags in, proceeds to get the shit kicked out of him

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he does it so well

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cesaro kicks jeff off the apron, leaving dean wide open for the tag

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cole somehow describes dean as "rather eccentric" while matt hardy is also in the room

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a series of blind tags leave even the announce team arguing over who's legal

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dean cleans house, goes to the top rope, miz distracts him long enough for sheamus to knee him in the face

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dean dodges one of cesaro's corner uppercuts, he sells through it so hard he flips headfirst over the turnbuckle to the floor

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god bless you, claudio

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miz keeps the hardyz out of the way, cesaro and sheamus hit dean with a white noise elbow drop combo, dean kicks out anyway because fuck your tag finisher

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dean's gone into that mode of selling where he thinks all pain is electrocution

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dramatic hot tag to jeff, only marred by dean missing the fuck out of his hand

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tags matt, poetry in motion and side effect to miz, sheamus breaks the pin, twist of fate to sheamus, dirty deeds to cesaro, twist of fate and swanton bomb to miz for the pin

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all the finishers that's fit to print

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jeff takes off his shirt, ties it round his waist, except he seems unsure how knots work

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kind of a consequence when your finisher involves landing on your head at high speed

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cesaro and sheamus stagger up the ramp, cesaro completely stacks it

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no idea if that was intentional

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announce team start their recap, corey gets a call and walks off without a word

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huh

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but later, alexa bliss does bayley: this is your life

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but here we are in kurt's office, and corey comes in

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there's some kind of email insulting kurt going round, which corey has forwarded to him as a courtesy

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kurt is worried for his career

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well this is dramatic

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but screw drama, here's a giant hipster with a guitar on a stool

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and a song about how he owes miz a favour

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lights come up, and it's revealed that a random jobber was standing in the corner all along

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that's weirdly hilarious

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bless, he looks about twelve

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elias straight-up lifts him over his head with one arm

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just beating all of the shit out of this random kid

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goes out of the ring so he can start mashing his face into the apron

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seems unnecessary

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just pin him, he's already dead

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or you could bow and arrow him around the ring post, sure

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shouts at the crowd, swinging neckbreaker for the pin

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yeah, that was just a shoot murder

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back to the announce table, graves comes back

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refuses to talk about what's going on

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does he know the camera in kurt's office was on

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but now here's an advert for mitb

.

i hope you like gold bond

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and now joe's in a room made of led banners watching a finn video package on a big tv

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charly's here to interview him on how he's going to win this match

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joe has apparently done all the research and learnt how to kill finn

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and as for bray, hWYATT CUT

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bray appears on the tv to lecture joe about how he's going to loose the beast of chaos upon the world and then eat it himself and embody the universe

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this may be a metaphor for fighting brock, or it could just be the world bray lives in

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and now we're back in the ring

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i guess that segment's done

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and now finn's entrance?

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guess we're having that match now

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seems odd to do the hype segment immediately before the match

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huh

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*does the arms*

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this match to follow, after another video package about the troops and honour and murica and shit

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cut back halfway through joe's entrance

.

hope you didn't need all that WOMP

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but hey, at least we get to see bray catching flies in its entirety

.

i swear corey just called bray a "genuinely surprising halfling"

.

logic suggests that he must have meant 'athlete', but i'm sticking with my version

.

bray is the demon-king of the shire

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bray's still wearing his new merch shirt that i've got, except i can't fucking find mine so i'm forced to assume that that is actually my shirt

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bell rings, bray slowly slithers down the ring post and out of the ring to let finn and joe beat on each other for a while

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i'm down with that, it's been a great match every other time

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finn kicks joe in the head, bray leads a round of applause from outside

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so joe gets pissed and drags him back in

.

and then fucks off himself, because heel

.

but that doesn't last, because even being a shitheel, joe can't resist a fght

.

throws finn out of the ring, tries to pick bray up by the beard

.

sadly finn interrupts the process

.

i was looking forward to that

.

bray runs the ropes, hits a huge running crossbody fucking*through* finn

.

this is kind of the usual one guy dicks off and the other two fight structure, but switching often enough that it doesn't feel like it

.

bray tower of dooms finn and joe, goes for sister abigail on finn, joe coquina clutches bray until finn kicks him in the head

.

throws them both out, hits a lovely tope which bray sells miles more than joe

.

cut to ads, come back on bray and joe teaming up on finn

.

it does kind of feel like raw needs to decide whether they're selling finn as 'plucky underdog face' or 'demon-channeling badass'

.

bray gets some serious offence on both of them, undermined by corey becoming suddenly unable to say 'wyatt'

.

this segment of the match is mostly showing us how amazing a bray/joe team would be

.

alliance of the smooth-talking evil big guys

.

philosopher kings of pain

.

and that immediately breaks up as he punches joe in the face

.

goes for an uranage on finn, gets kicked in the head for it

.

joe comes back in to hit everyone

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this is proper triple threat fighting

.

booker starts talking about how great joe is, finn immediately throws him out of the ring and kicks him in the head

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he's worse at this than me

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finn runs around the ring to to barricade dropkicks on both his opponents in opposite corners

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takes joe back in the ring, starts ramming him into the corner, joe counters with a lovely reversal into an uranage while still standing in the corner

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finn stomps him in the gut, counters out of sister abigail to stomp bray in the gut, joe suplexes finn out of the ring, bray hits sister abigail on him but joe rolls out of the ring, finn hits sling blade to corner dropkick to coup de grace, at which point joe just strolls into the ring, tosses finn out, and pins bray for the win

.

lovely heel move there

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please can we only have corey calling finn matches

.

there's a fucking e on the end of coup de grace

.

but now we're backstage, with dudeface mcforgotyourname interviewing seth for his opinions on roman

.

so naturally seth leads by talking about samoa joe

.

oh, apparently the dude's called mike

.

seth frames him selling out the shield as "some not-so-great times"

.

then claims to own roman

.

and a whole bit on how he's going to kill everyone at extreme rules

.

clip of sasha and rich swann exchanging dance moves backstage

.

and now here are noam and alicia in the ring

.

and a recap of last week and noam getting throat-punched

.

apparently this is going to be a mixed tage match at extreme rules

.

which is cool

.

but now we're just having rich/noam

.

but with the ladies lurking around

.

can i mention how much i love that they haven't used this angle to make sasha and rich an on-screen couple

.

like

.

it turns out women can have male friends they don't want to fuck, and vice versa

.

who knew

.

both of these guys look like the film's been sped up about 20%, as usual

.

the crowd seem under-enthused, which is a shame

.

but to be fair, this is coming off the back of a great match, so it could just be shade from that

.

rich bends noam over and then does a standing 450 leg drop on the back of his neck, because fuck physics

.

meanwhile, sasha and alicia fight outside and rich hits a phoenix splash for the win but we don't see it

.

rich dances to his music, cajoles sasha into doing so as well

.

she tries to underplay the obvious fact that she's got better moves than him

.

boogie on down, end segment

.

and now we're back with charly, and the revival

.

aweome

.

dash's mouth is still wired up

.

ouch

.

but hey, scott does most of the talking

.

charly tries to implicitly ask if they murdered enzo last week

.

and roll vt of charly interviewing sasha, and the revival walk past in the background

.

scott's like well duh we do work here, just doing top guy stuff other than wrestling

.

calls enzo the tilapia of raw

.

if that whole thing with the video was actually planned, that's some nicely done foreshadowing

.

corey's just like hey did anyone send cass that footage just saying

.

anyway, here's a recap of tozawa and kendrick's street fight

.

and that horrifying senton through the table

.

while they're talking about that, cass looms in to shout at corey for insinuating that he might have had something to do with enzo's death

.

i am liking the barely-controlled chaos of this episode

.

but now, byoooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeeep lucha

.

seriously, that intro is weird and i still don't get it

.

he's fighting titus tonight, so have this vt of titus screwing his protégé over last week

.

apollo's still following him

.

so here's a talking head of titus telling apollo to watch and learn and maybe pick up some of his charisma

.

apollo is looking increasingly uncomfortable with this arrangement

.

kalisto knocks titus to his knees, does a lovely short-range rana into a facebuster

.

titus doesn't care, sits on kalisto and grabs his tights for the win

.

apollo is displeased with these tactics

.

he's trying to have an argument with titus in the ring, titus just kind of ignores him and shouts and selfies and end segment

.

up next, alexa tells bayley who she is

.

after this plug for barns courtney

.

who, i should repeat, is from aylesbury and thus should not be trusted under any circumstances

.

but yes, here's alexa, strutting down the ramp like isn't my hair great

.

(it is)

.

(it looks like she's had it redyed)

.

the kendo pole has been set up for some reason, and there are other people and a table full of things in the ring

.

this looks like it's going to be a thing

.

alexa continues to find new ways to reply to what chants

.

so let's begin this is your life

.

we have bayley's first doll

.

we have a trophy

.

for sportsmanship

.

alexa's like lol those milennials

.

we have more miscellaneous toys

.

and bayley's yearbook

.

voted most likely to apologise

.

alexa's like yeah that's fair

.

but now let's talk about these people

.

bayley's fourth grade teacher

.

mrs flapper

.

alexa at least leads with "if that's your real name"

.

apparently bayley was a lovely nerd and her dad came to school with her because she couldn't be away from him

.

and now her childhood best friend, tracy hevelina

.

how do they come up with these

.

apparently bayley was a lovely doormat but she never wanted to hang out because she was watching wrestling

.

which i think is just called 'having other interests'

.

alexa's like oh my god do you mean being a wrestler was her childhood dream i have never heard that before

.

and finally, bayley's ex-boyfriend phil johnson

.

like wtf everyone else got weird names why am i phil johnson

.

alexa wants to know what their first date was like

.

nice, but her dad came too

.

the crowd are just doing delete chants for some reason

.

and phil nearly kissed her dad on the first date

.

i think that reflects more on you, phil

.

but he was only dating her to get close to tracy

.

and she's like oh my god i always liked you too and they make out

.

alexa's like welp this is disgusting um

.

this is your life?

.

and now here's bayley

.

tracy, phil and mrs flapper disappear, these two commence to kicking the crap out of each other

.

bayley throws a bunch of shit off the table at alexa

.

she's got a ripped off-the-shoulder top on, just in case you needed a visual representaion of how extreme she's gone

.

so extreme she's reached the late 90s

.

crowd chant for the kendo stick, nelecting the fact that there's a bunch of those under the ring

.

bayley starts to go up the turnbuckle, alexa knocks her down and then like fuck you i just own a kendo stick it's under this table

.

and smacks bayley with it

.

end segment after one strike

.

this match is going to be really short, given how firmly we've established that one kendo stick shot to the back will cause bayley's death

.

and now we're backstage, where enzo's been assaulted again

.

cass arrives to check him out, shouts at kurt that it was the revival

.

kurt's like i saw them left the building and there was no way they could have come back in it's not like doors go both ways

.

cass pledges to watch over enzo

.

medics check him over, end thing

.

and now here's austin

.

apparently this is a tag match

.

austin/jack v neville/tjp again?

.

yup

.

tjp is now getting announced as the first ever cruiserweight champion

.

presumably his intro needed padding now he's lost 90% of his name

.

neville's pyro cannons go off, cole has to ask booker if he's ok

.

there's a story there

.

tjp kicks off by having a pose-off with austin, who just goes fuck this and hits him in the head

.

tag to jack, who gets out of a headlock by walking backwards on his hands and then suplexes tjp with his legs

.

yknow, like humans do

.

neville tags in, austin tags in, they face off for a bit and then neville just goes screw that and leaves the ring for the ad break

.

we come back on neville fucking jack up

.

apparently the kidneys are a very violent spot

.

thanks for that pearl of wisdom, book

.

neville keeps shouting proclamations at austin and making an example of jack

.

rip the happy english gent

.

tags tjp, who comes in via a rolling senton over the ropes

.

he's a twat, but he's a fast twat

.

of course, as soon as i say that, he settles into the longest rest hold on the show

.

tjp gets austin to distract the ref and proceeds to claw jack's eyes out

.

jack goes for the tag, tj grabs him by the hair, so jack just whips round and chins him

.

dramatic double tag, austin and neville proceed to fuck each other up

.

i love austin's shin breaker to facebuster combo

.

just putting that out there

.

austin sets up for a discus fivearm, tj grabs his leg, tries for a rolling senton, jack grabs *his* leg, austin throws neville at them and does his ugly suicide dive

.

goes for a top rope dropkick, neville walks out of the way, tries a red arrow, lands facefirst as austin moves, austin hits the last chancery for the tap

.

faces swagger off, heels sit in the ring like what has happened to the world

.

actually, looking at the replays, that was a phoenix splash

.

i thought it seemed less than usual

.

but in a minute, we get to hear from roman reigns

.

yaaaaay

.

and here he is

.

and mike mcsomeone is in the locker room to ask him about seth

.

roman does his usual cos i'm the big dog in the yard woof speech, tells mike to fuck off

.

cut elsewhere to charly grabbing neville to ask about his first ever submission loss, long beat, he screams incoherently and storms off

.

but now, let's replay the reinvention of goldust

.

i will never get tired of that

.

and here's a new shattered dreams film

.

i love the low frame rate and the weird colour bloom and everything

.

goldust's angle is the usual i want to be the star thing

.

and he killed truth for wanting the spotlight to himself

.

but an ending is coming

.

and the golden age is back

.

and now that warps into terrible blaxploitation credits for an r-truth production

.

listen to that slap bass

.

and truth gets a monologue about how much he loves shaft, dolemite and pulp fiction

.

good to know he's not a stereotype or anything

.

and goldust is apparently going to get got

.

great

.

but now we're back in the arena, and it's main event time

.

well, that or seth's just heard the inside of the ring's nice this time of year

.

but now, have an advert for sasha being on 205 for some reason

.

and now here's roman

.

great

.

the announce team keep insistently using their epithets, and now i'm wondering whether i would rather actually watch an architect fight a big dog

.

apparently this is roman reigns vs seth reigns

.

thanks cole, that's not confusing at all

.

seth casually does a standing moonsault on roman, we all try and remember whether we knew he could do that

.

roman retaliates by punching him in the face

.

we all knew he could do that

.

does the driveby into the ring post again

.

still a nice variation on a better signature than he deserves

.

seth tries a springboard plancha, just kind of slips off the rope and onto roman

.

they both still sell it to hell and back, because professionalism

.

i'm not yawning you're yawning

.

sure, i've had very little sleep, but it's not helping that roman can just suck all the energy out of a room

.

seth doing that sling blade helped

.

goes for a falcon arrow, but sells his damaged torso from the driveby

.

see, kids, this is how we do in-ring narrative

.

seth springboards off the top rope, roman superman punches him out of the air

.

kick out at 2, because everyone knows you can't win a match until you'e gone oooooooooo

.

oh no

.

he went oooooooo

.

seth dodge the spear, superkick, nearfall

.

the announce team need to work out whether that kick was to roman's jaw or the bridge of his nose

.

they're in different places, last i checked

.

roman goes for a second rope samoan drop, seth counters it into carrying him across the ring into a turnbuckle powerbomb, and roman superman punches him as he falls

.

okay, that was a nice sequence

.

both guys are now lurking around the ring or on the apron, ref can't be bothered to count

.

seth bullfights roman into the steps, brings him in for a blockbuster, nearfall

.

seth, have you tried going ooooooooo

.

goes back up top for a frog splash, nearfall because of his damaged ribs

.

damn, but seth's good

.

cole talks about how the universe is showing great respect for both of these wrestlers literally as half the crowd are chanting ROMAN SUCKS

.

seth goes for a phoenix splash, misses, rolls through, dodges roman's punch, enzuigiri, goes for a kingslayer, roman dodges into a spear, pin

.

okay, when that match got going, it was bloody good

.

not as good as the triple threat, but that's to be expected

.

cole lists all five guys and their finishers, claims seth's is a falcon arrow

.

i'm p sure that is in no way his finisher

.

anyway

.

and we fade on roman doing big dog faces and seth lying on the floor doing architect whoi's been attacked by a big dog faces

.

or at least, that episode fades

.

here at WWEm, the stupid heat and humidity have made the doors swell shut again, so i guess we're stuck here for FRIDAY AFTERNOON SMACKDOWN!

.

(side note: daniel would like to let it be known that he proposed installing a dumbwaiter for food/water/possible escape in just these circumstances)

.

(i overruled him, citing cost, planning permission, and my personal desire to wait for the dry season while foraging in amongst the dense furniture forests, as our ancestors once did)

.

anyway, office politics aside, and ignoring the beseeching eyes and desperate mewling of one assistant producer who shall remain nameless, let's get on with the show

.

we open with charlotte in her peacock robe, telling us she's genetically superior to everyone

.

and carmella telling us she's awesome

.

and nattie doing her family catchphrase

.

and becky doing some irish jokes

.

and TAMINA SAYING WORDS HOLY FUCK

.

ahem

.

and roll titles

.

so yeah, that contender's match is tonight

.

tamina should win, because the thought of jinder mahal and tamina snuka holding the top men's and women's belts on the brand is hilarious to me

.

but now we're in the ring with kevin, doing the highlight reel

.

which has always been his show

.

and anyone thinking different should report to the back of the building for correction

.

damn, kevin just undermined that joke by talking about chris as the former host

.

shut up kevin, i'm trying to do a thing

.

the crowd interrupt with aj styles chants, because sure, why not

.

so yeah, kevin's here to sway offputtingly and tell us how he's going to win the briefcase

.

fuck it, pin all the titles on him

.

charlotte wins the women's belt, kevin powerbombs her into the apron

.

breezango take the tag belts, kevin beats them to death with each other

.

you know it makes sense

.

also in things that don't really make sense, here's his guest, shinsuke nakamura

.

i must be tired, i seem not to be dancing like a galvanised frog corpse

.

(which is my Slayer cover band,btw)

.

(check us out, we're p great)

.

shinsuke's music fades, kevin's immediately like ok dude i don't give a fuck about this shit

.

please stop dancing

.

why are you even here

.

but most importantly, remember what i did to our last rockstar

.

so by that logic, shinsuke'll be touring and recording an album in a few weeks

.

shinsuke gets two words into replying, baron's music drops

.

rude

.

baron calls it 'the highlight show'

.

dude, it's on a fifteen-foot screen right by where you came in

.

get it right

.

cues some vt of him trying to murder sami last week

.

kevin's like dude why the fuck did you interrupt my show for that i've been murdering that twat for fifteen years fuck off away from my show

.

baron calls him cartman again, lol so edgy

.

and throws some almost imperceptible shade at shinsuke

.

shinsuke's just like guys have you forgotten the bit where i totally beat you last week and the bit where sami pinned you twice

.

this is fair

.

cue kevin and baron beating the piss out of him

.

sami appears out of the crowd to break it up

.

theory: sami isn't a real person, he's a collective thoughtform that manifests from the common people when we need to protest injustice

.

sami gets a mic, and is just like welp, you guys want a fight and i'm free - shin, you free? - we're both free, so let's do the thing

.

cut to ads, come back and we're doing the thing

.

baron tries to headlock shinsuke, he just goat simulators all over him

.

does good vibrations, we are all forced to take a step back and realise how astronomically high his charisma stat must be to make that move look good

.

double tag, and we get a weirdly familiar face-off

.

kevin tags back out, and sami gets a weird amount of offence given that he's barely been hit yet

.

oh, there it is

.

kevin got a cheap kick to his head while baron distracted the ref

.

and now we have the sami getting murdered part

.

baron counters a tornado ddt attempt into a powerslam

.

it's p cool

.

but now we're doing the tiny wrestling and giant terrible american ads thing again

.

i don't love it

.

these ad breaks seem so long when they're for shit you don't care about and you're trying to watch the match

.

oh hey, we're back

.

just in time for kevin to eat a blue thunder bomb and baron knock shinsuke out of the way of a hot tag

.

sami goes for the rollup again, nearfall

.

naturally, this just enrages baron, who proceeds to punch him in the head a bunch

.

no, you fool

.

that's exactly what he wants

.

as evidenced by that big lariat counter he just threw

.

double tag, this awesome matchup resumes

.

will this match reenact my favourite moment

.

i doubt it

.

sami and baron end up back in the ring, sami whips kevin into baron, they start fighting, baron punches kevin down, sami lariats baron out of the ring, kinshasa to kevin fir the pin

.

good match, but sad lack of nope

.

valuable replay highlights of baron being big, angry, and dumb

.

sami and shinsuke just kind of look at each other, then sami goes and holds the ropes open while shin dances like um dude are you done

.

end segment, talk about ppvs and shit

.

and up later, women's 5-way elimination match

.

but now, the usos walk backstage with belts

.

film at 11

.

cut for ads, and here they are

.

day one remains h

.

they're here to talk smack at us all, but i can't tell all that well what their problem is because the feed's jumpy as shit

.

jey mocks the atlanta falcons, jimmy goes "Don't boo us, we didn't play!"

.

which seems fair

.

but here come our longest reigning tag champs

.

and also a trombone

.

the ice cream cart seems to have disappeared though

.

take that as you will

.

the magic of the new day seems to have fixed the feed

.

hurrah

.

apparently this is xaiver's home town

.

so they're fucked

.

kofi starts monologuing, the usos interrupt them and accidentally start a serious discussion about skipping

.

usos brag about their belts, big e and xavier start a creepy monologue that i'm assuming is a reference

.

so jimmy threatens to have them put down

.

seems reasonable

.

xavier's like hey we talked to the guy who actually runs this show and we're gonna smash you at mitb

.

[aggressively vibrates]

.

and then they lift kofi and present the usos with his crotch as he vibrates madly

.

what the actual fuck is going on

.

the usos leave, which seems fair

.

cuts of aj and dolph, both in new gear, warming up backstage

.

apparently they're the main event

.

but up next, we look back at last week's punjbai celebration

.

what, did we not have enough stuff to actually put in this episode, so now we just have to reuse last week's content with weird colour filters on it?

.

lots of clips from indian media about jinder taking the belt, which is cool

.

and cut back to the present

.

not sure what exactly was the point of that segment

.

but now for fashion files, noir style!

.

fashion files: the men who knew too little

.

cue moody sax and gruff narration by fandango

.

musing on losing their grasp on the usos

.

comes upon the fashion police hq ransacked, cue ominous bass and horns

.

silhouette of a sexy woman

.

dramatic reveal, it was tyler all along

.

tyler starts narrating, it's revealed that they are both psychic, so they just start talking instead

.

they look for clues

.

and find a bottle of cologne

.

fandango's tongue identifies ethyl alcohol, tree frog excrement, and hibiscus

.

can you tell where this is going

.

tyler accepts a non-existent compliment on his dress

.

and they go off to chase this lead

.

but now, women's elimination time

.

here comes charlotte in her magnificent peacock robe

.

with her shiny new surname

.

cut for ads, during which we missed ellsworth coming in

.

but we get to hear him insult all of georgia and hype his bae

.

i've just noticed, tamina's tron and entrance chanting makes it look like her name's capitalised TaMiNa like she's from the moon or something

.

nattie enters, still sparkly as fuck

.

becky puts her goggles on a girl in the crowd, who just starts straight-up screaming

.

and brawling begins immediately, before they can ring the bell

.

not sure why they don't just ring it, given that this is no dq anyway

.

tamina samoan drops charlotte into quiescence, becky throws carmella into the timekeeper's area and jumps on her from the barricade, tamina starts stripping the announce table, the ref's just stood there like um no stop it guys don't do that please guys um help

.

charlotte throws tamina into the apron and post, suplexes nattie on the floor, moonsaults them both from the ring post

.

carmella crossbodies her off the barricade

.

and then becky exploders her

.

and then tamina clotheslines her

.

and then charlotte big boots her

.

and then nattie discus forearms her

.

the circle of life

.

nattie tries to put charlotte through the table, gets whipped into the steps

.

and then powerbombed through the table

.

the refs seem to have given up on trying to restore order and are just standing around despairing

.

but here comes the money to fix things

.

here comes the moneyyyyyyyyy, dragging a middle-aged man along by his pockets

.

shane's like well that was cool but do you guys remember how a match works

.

but let's do a thing instead

.

women's mitb match

.

yeeeeeeeah

.

i mean, i'd heard it on twitter already, but it's pretty awesome

.

but later tonight, randy responds to jinder existing

.

great

.

but up next, breezango vs the colognes

.

the colóns have a new logo that at a casual glance looks like aleister black's brimstone symbol

.

huh

.

breezango enter, still in character as gumshoe and femme fatale

.

primo and epico are just standing there like the fuck is up with these guys

.

tyler is trying to work out the logistics of fighting in a dress and long wig

.

swiftly answered after primo knocks him down and rips them off

.

tags fandango in, who's still wearing his duster

.

primo tries to sunset flip him, gets squirted with a water pistol

.

and tyler produces his to douse epico

.

the colóns sell it like they've been tased, spill to the outside as we do the advert break but not thing again

.

during this advert for red lobster, feel free to amuse yourself by thinking about all the ways in which water pistols are not legal in wrestling matches

.

and we're back

.

apparently fandango lost his coat at some point

.

i didn't notice because i was distracted by an advert about a grown woman who somehow doesn't know that soda might be bad for your teeth

.

fandango's taking a lot of punishment, but tyler got punched off the apron and has apparently glitched through the floor and is now falling endlessly through a featureless void

.

but hey, here's a janitor to tag in

.

i am here for tyler breeze, master of disguise all day

.

primo steals tyler's mop, he and fandango tussle over it, unprettier off the distraction for the pin

.

i love this ridiculous gimmick

.

but now, renee has aj in the blue curtain room

.

apparently aj's going to win money in the bank tonight

.

that'll be a trick

.

and now here's dolph to be like hey fuck you dude i'm dolph ziggler, i've been here forever

.

challenges him here and now, aj threateningly removes his shirt, dolph fucks off

.

aj gets some home state pops

.

but next, randy talks

.

woooooo

.

feel free to distract yourself by wondering whether that was a sarcastic cheer or just that this building is haunted

.

so yeah, randy's here and he's got a new hoody and it's got his initials and a snake design on it so daring

.

starts talking, and i already want to slap him and/or fall asleep

.

boasts about all the people he and his father have beaten

.

and how his grandfather would have beaten the shit out of him for losing to jinder

.

this just in: all our grandparents were probably super racist

.

randy, please stop hanging all of this on the whole american thing

.

yes, you are american and your opponent is not

.

we get it

.

that is not a reason to be a twat

.

jinder's music drops, but he's on the tron instead

.

tight closeup, but i'm p sure he's standing in front of an indian flag

.

oh yeah, there we go

.

zoom out to show the belt and the singhs

.

jinder gives randy crap about living in the past and obsessing over his old achievements

.

which is fair

.

the singhs clap awkwardly, zoom back in, end video

.

randy poses on the turnbuckle, end segment

.

that was really strange

.

but now, here's sasha and swann to tell us to watch 205

.

and next week, we have shinsuke/kevin

.

should be good

.

but now for the main event

.

here comes dolph, in his shiny new jacket

.

enjoy these recaps from 2012/3 of dolph winning mitb before, just in case you didn't believe us

.

aj's in new red and black gear, and it looks like he's just trying to be shinsuke

.

oh, apparently it's an atlanta thing?

.

yeah, it's falcons colours

.

see, seamless research break

.

meanwhile aj dropkicks dolph in the face and gets kicked out of the ring in return

.

cut for ads, and back on a suuuuuuuuuper tight focus on the case for some reason

.

and then slowly pan out to show there was a match happening all along

.

who knew

.

dolph counters a styles clash into the most blatant dirty pin ever

.

the ref barely gets through counting one before just going waaaaaaait a second

.

ushigoroshi for a nearfall, except apparently we're not calling it that any more

.

aj hits dolph into the turnbuckles with a really uncomfortably close-range exploder

.

that did not look good

.

goes for a top rope styles clash, dolph counters to a satellite ddt

.

this match has only been going for a few minutes, but they are just beating each other to fuck

.

and they're both just throwing finisher attempts every chance they get

.

which is honestly kind of cool

.

narratively different, at least

.

but still countering them rather than just kicking out, so preserves the finishers

.

dolph goes for a superplex, aj slides out and smacks dolph's face into the turnbuckle, dolph bullfights aj face-first into the turnbuckle, rolls into a calf crusher, dolph gets out by going for his eyes, zigzag for a nearfall

.

aj goes for a phenomenal forearm from far too close, dolph pushes him off the ropes, then superkicks him while he's still tangled up in them for the pin

.

remembers to pull his legs away from the ropes as he pins him, too, which is a welcome touch of logic

.

and fade on dolph trying to strike a balance between 'yeah i'm the greatest' and 'holy fuck i actually got to win a thing'

.

and that was smackdown

.

talking smack will follow with the five women's mitb contenders, but that is left as an exercise for the reader

.

if you're watching extreme rules on sunday, hmu on twitter @waruce

.

but now, i'm off to google lists of edible chair fungi

[itsmatina864-blog]

The Baby 4

Nicole

We spent the day in the immigrations office  talking about everything and everything. They asked questions about where we was from and why are we here I don’t know what Waverly was telling them but I knew she was saying the right things I could feel it.

“ Well since you father is Canadian and your Mother American you really don’t have to do anything but bring in a copy of your daughters medical records and birth certificate. And how everything here looks you are ok. She automatically gets citizenship because she is so young, but as far as your fiance goes she has 90 days to get everything in order it's better that you marry her before the 90 days are up they don’t know how long you have been engaged, but you didn’t hear that from me.” he said Standing  

I said a polite goodbye and me and Brit made our way out to the hall where I saw Waverly sitting waiting for us. She was looking through the book as she waited.

“Hey how did it go?” she asked as we walked up.

“It went fine he told me because I was born to an American mother and a Canadian father I have dual citizenship and I don’t have to do anything but they took a copy of Brit’s birth certificate and health records.” I say

“Well it’s a good thing we got all that before Purgatory turned into a lake.” She said  running her hand through her hair.

“Yeah he said heard heard about that and said that he was sorry about our loss.” I handed her Brit’s file.

“We’re really doing? this this is going to be our home for now.” Waverly said as we walked out to the car.

“ Yeah I have to come back to have the test and everything.” Waverly said as I put Brit in the seat base.

“We should get married.” I say quickly.

“Why, I mean I have no issue with marrying you that’s what i want but why so early?” She asks.

“You wouldn't have to go through nearly as much as you have to go through now. You only have 90 days before they send you back if we get married all we would have to do is put up with the home visit and you would take a test on me to make sure your not lieing.” I say looking through the little booklet that the man slipped in Brit’s bag.

“So if we get married say next month they would set up a home visit and a family history test?” Waverly asked.

“Yeah I mean it's more than that but far less than what they are asking for now, have been together for a year you know all about my family and I know all about yours with everything I learned in Purgatory I can go all they way back to when Wyatt’s family first came over from England. I doubt they will ask me all that but I know about you and your family and you can say the same for me.” I say pulling out onto the main road.

Waverly sat back and thought about it for a moment before speaking.

“I want a big wedding on our anniversary ok.” She said.

“There is nothing wrong with that.” I say before hitting the bluetooth button  t call my mom.

“Hey Nicole it’s good you called your dear old mother after you said you would call on Sunday.” Mom said into the phone.

I could hear the smile in her voice.

“I know mom I’m sorry we just had a big day with Brit on Saturday we kinda just laid around all day yesterday and catched up on some rest.” I say.

“How is my granddaughter?�� She asked

“She’s fine she’s sleeping right now.”

“And Waverly?”

Mom just fell in love with Waverly and Brit the moment she laid eyes on them.

“I’m Fine Mrs Haught.” Waverly says laughing.

“Oh honey I told you it’s mom.” she said

“Hi Mom.” Waverly said smiling.

“Mom I was calling to tell you that Me and Waverly are getting married next month.” I say

“Oh Nicole I was wondering when you was going to marry her, you have been talking about this mystery girl for years since you moved back to Canada And now this I’m so glad.” She says really loud.

Waverly looks at me with a raised brow and I blushed.

“Anyway mom we are getting married next month nothing big we can't afford that right now but I would love for you and daddy to be there maybe Vanessa and Luke too. The big wedding will be next year when we can afford it.” I say.

“Oh this is great My pastor does same sex weddings all the time, I’m sure he would love to do yours. We can have a nice dinner after at the house and we will be more than happy to watch Brit while you two take that weekend to have a weekend at the Bellagio. It's not much but your Father and I will pay for it.” She says

“Look at that mom has it all planed out.” I say laughing.

“I have been waiting forever for my baby girl to get married you bet I can come up with things on the fly.” She said

“OK mom we will get together tomorrow for dinner and talk about it ok?” I say.

“Ok Nic, have you eaten yet?” She asked

“We are Heading to Vanessa’s now for lunch now.” I say.

“Ok good. I will see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow Mom.” Both Waverly and I say.

I ended the call and looked over at Waverly.

“I knew I was meant to meet you something in my gut told me that I was going to meet you. So to stop mom from trying to set me up I told her that I was with you. I never gave her any names just that we was together.” I say answering her questioning eyes.

“You was very sure of yourself.” She says.

“Yep I knew you couldn’t resist the Haught charm.” I say pulling into the parking lot.

“Oh we will see about that tonight.” Waverly said as I turned off the car.

“What No that's not fair.” I say as she climbed out.

She just laughed and closed the door  before opening the back door and getting Brit’s baby bag.I climbed out and got Brit before following Waverly into the restaurant. We picked a table that was away from the windows so the sun wouldn’t bother Brit, I noticed that she really wasn’t too happy about the sun being on her while she was sleeping and it was a good thing that I had tinted windows in the SUV because she would have a fit in the car if she fell to sleep.

“I’ll let Vanessa that you're here what can I get you to drink?” The waitress asked giving Nicole starry eyes.

“I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll take a ice tea with lemon.” I said

“Yea,is there anything I can get you Nicole?” She asked not even writing down my order.

“You can start by sending someone else over here to take our order, you don’t disrespect my fiance like you just did.” She said giving her a hard look.

“Go away now.” Nicole said when she didn’t move.

She huffed and walked off but not before she gave me a evil look and I matched her’s with my own.

“Stop it now Nicole said as a boy no older than 17 came over and took our orders. He walked away and I turned back to Nicole.

“Anyway I was thinking when we get home we put Brit down for a little nap  and  watch something romantic Before I cook us a nice little dinner and we can see how well that Haught charm works.” She says  running her hand up my arm.

“Ha I wish Vanessa would flirt like that with me now.” Luke said coming over and sitting down.

“I would if you wasn’t so loud about it.” Vanessa said walking over with our drinks.

“What brings you here?” She asked sitting down.

“We was at immigrations all morning and I asked Nicole this morning to bring me here for lunch.” Waverly says taking Brit out her seat.

She started to burrow her face in Waverly’s chest and rute at if as if she was looking for food.

“That’s new.” I say

“Yeah it is she has never been interested in breastfeeding before” Waverly said

“And you never lactated before either.” I said pointing at her shirt.

“Oh my god.” Waverly said

“Come on we will go to my office I have a few shirts in there, and we look to be the same size in bras.” Vanessa said  helping waverly to the back.

I sighed Brit was making a lot of strange things happen and I didn't know how to make her control them. She was only one month old I don't think there is anything I can do at this very moment.I looked up to see one of the workers walking past with a bag with a box inside and headed back to Vanessa’s office. I was about to stand to find out what was going on when the busboy walked over.

“Vanessa told me to tell you everything was ok and that you should eat you lunch.” He said smiling.

My food was placed in front of me but all I could do was look back  at the door they went thru that lead to Vanessa’s office. I picked at my food no longer hungry and very nervous.

“Look it's fine just a little breastfeeding mishap I have learned that when women have babies strange things happen to their bodies.” Luke said patting my arm.

I couldn’t very well tell him that Waverly wasn’t the one to have Brit. Wynonna went out on a lim telling the doctors that she was Waverly Earp just so her name would be on the birth certificate as the mother along with me she went as far as saying she had blue contacts in just to keep up the fact that Waverly was the mother. Purgatory was far more advanced than people would like to think the little town to be.

I picked up of piece of grilled chicken and put it into my mouth. Luck started to talk about what he heard from mom.

“Yeah that’s one of the reasons I came here I wanted to ask you two to come to the wedding. Right now we can't afford anything bigger that what we are going to have but next year we will have a nice pig one with all the family.” I say

“OK all done and everything is fine, Waverly’s body just had a delayed reaction to breastfeeding it’s not common but it does happen.” Vanessa said as they came back to the table.

“Don’t forget you can freeze the milk your body is going to make more than Brit can drink and that way you won’t be wasting any.” She says putting the bag with the box down next to the table.

“I have to get back in the back put to answer the question you was going to ask Yes I will be happy to come to your little wedding mom talks way to much too fast.” She said and we all laugh

They left us to enjoy our lunch and I just couldn’t help but look at Waverly.I was about to say something when her phone rung and she fished it out.

“Hey Wynonna!” she said putting the phone on speaker.

‘Hey babygirl what are you doing?’ she asked

“Having lunch at Nicole's sister’s restaurant.” She says.

‘I’m just outside Vegas by an hour or so what’s your address?’ Wynonna asked

Waverly gave her the address.

‘Hey can you get me something to eat  I just want to get there eat and fall into bed.’ She says.

“Sure thing What do you want?” I ask

‘I’ve been craving one of those veggie burger things that Waverly is always eating with some firse and a nice glass of whiskey.’ She says

“Ok I can make that happen.” I say looking at the menu.

‘Ok see you in about an hour or two.’ Wynonna says

After we was off the phone I waved the water over and ordered a veggie burger plate to go. Daddy made sure I had a bottle of whiskey in the house for down time as he says. I payed the bill and we gather our things.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked as weg got in the SUV.

“It's a pump so I can….”

“I know what a pump is for, this is just getting strange.” I say

“Yeah it is I didn’t think it was possible.” Waverly says

It didn't take us long before we got back to the house and put Brit down for a nap. Waverly went to put the pump away and put the bottle in the fridge. I was sitting on the couch when she came into the room.

“Come here.” I say softly holding out my hand for her.

I pulled her into my lap and started kissing her.

“Nope Not going to work Haught you have to do better than a few little kisses.” She says as I kiss down her neck.

I watched as she tiredly ate her meal as Waverly went to make sure her room was ready.

“How was it getting over the border?” I ask setting a glass of whiskey down next to her.

“ It was easy they didn't ask me anything and I'm glad I don't need anymore questions.” She said

I shook my head and went over to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer.

“Waverly started lactating so we have a pump if you needed to do that.” I say pointing at her chest.

“Oh come on really?!”Wynonna said looking down at the wet spots on her shirt.

I don’t really know what to do with Wynonna or Waverly I’m the youngest of 6 kids I don’t know anything about pumping or breastfeeding but I did have magic and maybe I could help that way.

“Hold still.” I say putting my hands on her chest.

“Nicole?” She asked looking down at my hands.

“Hush.”

My hands started to glow a deep gold color before pulling back.

“That Hurt!” Wynonna said covering her chest with her hands.

“Yea well you won’t be making anymore milk now.”

“I was wondering why you was feeling up my sister.” Waverly said walking into the room.

“She just needed a little help that's all, by the way your looking really good Wynonna.” I say winking at her.

She let out a laugh and went back to eating her food. When she saw that Waverly was holding Brit she pushed everything away and held out her hands for her.

“Hey little monster I hear you're the reason that our home town is now a lake.” she said looking down at her.

Brit let out a coo and smiled up at Wynonna I stood up to go and get dinner ready  while Waverly an Wynonna sat and talked.  

It was almost October and the season was changing or as much as they could in Nevada we had a wedding to get ready for and immigrations to dig into our lives. Wynonna was here but for only god knows how long and Waverly was surely not going to let her get away they have already spent too much time apart as it is.

My family was already looking at me to keep Luke and Vanessa together and god knows why they are splitting up but I can't be the one to try and fix everything, I have a super natural baby to deal with on top of my own abilities.

“Nicole!?”

I jump and turn around.

“So you was just going to wait til the last minute to tell me you was marrying my sister next month?” Wynonna said

“What no we just came up with that today.” I say as I started to cook.

Wynonna let out a chuckle and went back to playing with Brit I went back to cooking and soon felt Waverly put her head on my back making me turn around.

“I wanted to tell you that I want to take you to bed and let you have your way with me, Maybe have a romatic bath before that.” she said running her fingers through my hair.

“That is the best idea for after family time.” I say pulling her into a kiss

“Hey watch it you’re going to scare her for life.” Wynonna says kissing Brit’s head

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: vi

shh, this is very therapeutic.

part v/AO3.

Lucy gets through the next several weeks mostly on autopilot. There’s spring break in there somewhere, but she doesn’t really notice, since she spends it working anyway. Her dissertation is inching toward the final finish line, though she still has to write a conclusion, put together her bibliography (which will be an absolutely torturous process of going through the whole thing and copy-pasting every footnote – why hasn’t someone invented a better way to do this yet?) and add her acknowledgments: places she went for trips, foundations who gave her scholarship money, people she’s collaborated with, that kind of thing. Most of it is straightforward, but when Lucy gets to the personal section, where people thank their parents, significant others, grade school teachers, supervisors, etc., she stares at the screen until it goes out of focus. Ordinarily she’d write, Thanks for everything, Mom and Dad, no problem at all, but how can she do that now? Thanks for everything, Mom and Henry Wallace, except for never telling me who my biological father was? Thanks for everything, Mom, but Benjamin Cahill, why?

Lucy leaves that part undone, just adds Amy for now, and finally pushes back her chair and lets out a hoarse war cry of victory, punching the air with both fists and startling the nearby students. She emails it to her supervisor, Dr. Kate Underwood, with the triumphant subject line FIRST COMPLETE DRAFT!!!!, then cleans out her carrel with something probably akin to what a new mother feels, when they finally hand her the baby after the sweat and strife of labor. Not that Lucy’s interested in kids, at least for a while, but still.

She sleeps like the dead for the entire weekend (her neighbors are actually still being quiet, and she certainly isn’t going to tell them that she’s probably never going to see Flynn again) then gets up and goes off to her final review meeting with Dr. Underwood on Monday. Most of the changes she suggests are small, though there’s one part of the last chapter that she pushes Lucy to do a little more with. Nothing outside her usual corrections, but since that was the chapter Lucy was dramatically interrupted from writing with the Weekend of Total Insanity, it triggers something in her. In one of the more embarrassing moments of her life, she bursts into tears in Dr. Underwood’s sunny office, as her supervisor looks bewildered, gingerly hands her Kleenex, and finally asks if everything is all right.

Lucy figures that last-minute nervous breakdowns are far from uncommon for PhD students just about to submit, and there’s a ready-made way to play this off as just that, which she more or less does. There are student counseling services that she could probably make an appointment with, though they’re busy enough at crunch time that it would be another few weeks until anyone saw her. And she just can’t picture sitting across from some graduate-student psychiatrist-in-training and actually making sense of this. Has the usual feeling that she doesn’t need to burden people with her first-world problems – “starving kids in Africa syndrome,” one of her friends called it. This is a little more than ordinary, perhaps, but still.

Having promised that she will have the changes in by next Monday, Lucy confirms the date for her oral examination, six weeks from now, and realizes that she has no idea what she will be doing for that time, aside from sleeping and bingeing on TV shows. Her work is done, she has class to finish teaching but only two days a week, and her schedule gapes perilously wide open. She isn’t good at sitting around and doing nothing; can manage maybe a week or two, then she starts feeling that she needs to be productive. Another gift from her mother. She never let Lucy just veg out during the summer as a kid. She had to be doing an extracurricular, or preparing for a AP exam, or off at Young Achievers Camp, which is exactly as nerdy as it sounds. She’s not sure she even knows how to rest.

Once Dr. Underwood has sent her off with advice to get some sleep and feel proud of her accomplishment, Lucy staggers out into the world beyond Stanford like Rip Van Winkle. It’s a nice day, warm and summery and almost difficult to remember that that whole ridiculous seventy-two hours ever happened, and she pauses. Then on a sudden impulse, she digs out her phone and scrolls through her contacts. Hits call, and waits.

Wyatt Logan picks up on the last ring, sounding slightly breathless. “Hello? Lucy?”

“Hi. I’m sorry, is it a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine. What’s up? Are you all right?”

“I. . . yeah, I am. I just. . . finished my dissertation, actually. And I thought if you were in San Francisco, maybe we could meet up and grab a coffee, or. . . or something?” Her heart flutters in her throat. “Just, you know, to catch up?”

There’s a slightly awkward pause. Then Wyatt says, “I’m, uh, I’m back in San Diego, I’m based out of Pendleton. And I promised my wife we’d go to the beach today, or whatever.”

“Your w – ” Lucy can feel her cheeks turning the color of a fire engine. “Oh my God, I didn’t – I really wasn’t – of course. No, no, of course. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt coughs. “Congratulations on finishing your dissertation, that’s an amazing accomplishment. Nothing else weird has happened recently?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Maybe they’ve given it up.” Lucy knows this is too easy, but she wants to think so. Likewise, she both does and doesn’t want to ask. “Have you heard from Flynn?”

Wyatt hesitates. “No. I called back to the hospital a week later, they said they let him out, but I have no idea where he went. Probably off the grid. I would, if I was him. There’s an APB out, anyone who sees him is supposed to call it in. Whoever Rittenhouse is, they’re still very, very pissed.”

Lucy struggles to take this in. On the one hand, it’s good news, of a sort, that Flynn somewhat recovered and was released from the hospital, but was this because he was ready to roll again, or because he didn’t want to take the risk of lying there waiting for his enemies to show up? There are a nearly unlimited number of ways that they can kill him in a hospital and make it look like an accident, after all. If he is officially persona non grata for a lot of powerful and high-ranking people, and he’s hurt, that doesn’t sound like a good combination. Maybe he’s fled the country, gone up and crossed into British Columbia and hidden out somewhere in the Canadian Rockies. Lucy reminds herself that either way, she shouldn’t care. Whatever the hell his actual feelings on her might be, he made himself clear.

“Thanks,” she says, after a too-long pause. “Let me know if. . . well, whatever happens, all right?”

“Do my best. Congrats again on the dissertation.” Wyatt clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Lucy echoes, cheeks still hot, and hangs up rather quickly. Well, that was a disaster. She should have known that the only guy she’s even attempted to ask out recently was unavailable, though there’s a cute-ish geek with glasses who smiles at her whenever he sees her in the coffee line. Lucy thinks his name is Alan. But not even for the principle of the thing can she really work up any desire for a closer approach. After a final moment, she fishes her keys out of her purse, heads to her car, and tries to decide if 280 or 101 will be more congested at this time of day. She ends up taking the latter, despite the unpleasant associations of recent escapades on it, up to Amy’s apartment in South San Francisco.

Lucy turns into the complex, parks, and heads up the steps to Amy’s place. She rents it with two of her friends, one of whom is named Sage Tranquility and the other of whom is usually getting arrested at protests. There’s plenty of room at the Preston house in Mountain View, it’s not like Amy had to move out, but she’s always butted heads with their mother far more than Lucy has. Said that she would rather live in a shitty apartment, away from Carol’s domineering and constant questioning about why she’s doing this sociology degree and wasting her potential, and build something that was hers. Lucy doesn’t know how much she should tell Amy, but she is the only person she feels like confiding to.

Amy opens the door a few moments after Lucy’s knock, her headphones around her neck still emitting the echoes of her music, but she pauses it at the sight of her sister. “Hey, you. What are you doing here? Aren’t you still working on your dissertation?”

“No, I just finished it. Just. Hey, are you doing anything right now?”

“No. Come in.” Amy frowns. “You don’t seem super jubilant, Luce.”

“I. . . have a lot on my mind.” Lucy blows out a breath. “I’d kind of like to talk.”

Amy agrees, gestures her in, and goes to fetch some cookies from the kitchen, before they got to the secondhand futon, Amy sits down, and beckons Lucy to put her head in her lap. “Okay,” she says. “So talk.”

As Amy gives her a head rub, which feels heavenly, Lucy closes her eyes, tries to find somewhere to start, and can’t think of any way to do this delicately. She teeters and stumbles at the edge, then finally comes clean about Flynn, about Rittenhouse, about Benjamin Cahill, about Wyatt, about everything. That it turns out they’re only half-sisters, that Carol has lied to them – to her – her entire life. That her real father is Corporate Darth Vader, and all of this. . . all of this. . . she’s slowly losing her mind, and has just squashed it down and put it away to concentrate on finishing. Now that’s done, and she’s. . . here.

Amy stays quiet as Lucy talks, until she finally chokes up and can’t finish. Then she grips Lucy’s shoulder hard and says fiercely, “We’re sisters, all right? We’re sisters. I don’t care what Mom did or did not tell you, it doesn’t change anything. We’re just the same as we’ve always been, and nothing is ever going to take that away from us.”

“Thanks.” Lucy’s voice remains stuck in her throat. “I just. . . this has been a lot.”

“Shyeah.” Amy reaches over her for a cookie, breaks off a bite, and dangles it above Lucy’s mouth like a zookeeper feeding the seals. Lucy manages a weak laugh and snaps it up, as a sigh shudders through her from head to heel. They remain in silence for several more moments, until Amy says, “So, this Flynn guy. You have feelings of some kind for him, but he’s a complete emotional disaster, not to mention possibly on the run from the feds for God knows what or where or why. Accurate?”

“I don’t – ” Lucy opens and shuts her mouth. “I wouldn’t say I have feelings feelings for him, he’s – I don’t really – ”

Amy raises one eyebrow. “Now who’s being the emotional disaster?”

Lucy feels as if this is rather unfair – she’s here sharing her problems and trying to work through them like a grownup, even if, yes, she did repress them for several weeks beforehand and hope they would go away. “I’m not the one who set my phone passcode as the day he saved my life, then told me not to fool myself that he wanted to see me again and basically vanished off the face of the earth!”

“Fair.” Amy considers this. “But you do feel something.”

“He saved my life. Twice. He did endanger it the second time, but. . .” Lucy stops. “Maybe there was something between us, or I believed a little too hard in fate or design or whatever. I could have been imagining it, but. . .”

“But you don’t think you were,” Amy completes. “He just blew it. Super hard. Complete buffoonery.”

Lucy snorts. “Remind me why I bother with men again?”

“You could always date another lady,” Amy points out. “I liked Carine.”

Strictly speaking, this is true, and does have a certain appeal after the recent overabundance of testosterone in Lucy’s life. But she dated Carine Leclerc, a journalism student from Montreal, for eight months in her senior year, and while Carine was making noises about looking for jobs in California after she graduated, it stalled over the fact that Lucy never got around to introducing her to Carol. It wasn’t exactly a secret – Amy knew, her friends knew, they went to a pride parade, there were pictures – but Lucy never talked about it directly with her mom. It wasn’t the queer thing, exactly. Just that whenever Carol discussed Lucy’s future, it always seemed to involve a husband and kids. Not because of any awe or reverence for the patriarchy – Carol gave both her daughters her own surname, rather than, apparently, either of their fathers’, and was a women’s studies professor for many years – but, well. It just did. And while you can obviously have a family by non-traditional methods – adoption, fostering, surrogacy, whatever – Lucy somehow didn’t get the impression that was what her mom had in mind. The kids just seem to be part of it. It’s why, although she’s not really had any enthusiasm for the idea now, she’s subconsciously penciled it in for five or eight years in the future, once she’s presumably met Mr. Right. Lucy has all kinds of arguments with herself over whether that makes her a bad feminist. But because it’s what her mom wants –

“Oh, God,” Lucy says hoarsely. She raises both hands to her face, then drops them. “You’re right. I really have let Mom dictate my life, haven’t I?”

The expression on Amy’s face clearly says, no duh, although she charitably refrains from uttering it aloud. Instead she says, “I still think you should have followed through on that band thing. At least it would have shown her that you can stand up to her.”

“I – no, that was definitely a bad idea, I’m glad I didn’t.” Lucy is still Lucy, and thus cannot believe that she ever treated the prospect of her education so frivolously. “But maybe if I went over there now and confronted her about Cahill – ”

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“What? You’re always the one telling me to push back against her more!”

“Yeah, I know.” Amy chews on a thumbnail. “But this is more than about just that, isn’t it? From what you said about Cahill, it sounds like he’s mixed up in some pretty skeevy shit. I give Mom a hard time a lot, but maybe she did have a good reason for separating us from all that. Are you sure you want to know?”

“If they come back, I should at least know the truth.” Lucy rubs at her tired eyes with her fingertips. “I’d like to think they just gave up, but I’m not sure. Maybe if I tell her that I know, it might help clear the air.”

Amy gives her a probing look. “And are you going to tell her about Flynn?”

That catches Lucy short. She wants to say that she will, that if she’s demanding or even requesting honesty from her mother, she should be prepared to return the favor. But something – she doesn’t even know what, not quite what it was with Carine – gives her pause. “Why would I?” she says feebly. “It’s not like anything actually happened.”

“Aside from him turning up and you two going on a three-day joyride that ended with him getting shot and telling you to go piss up a rope.” Amy’s tone is more or less lighthearted, but her expression is serious. “That’s definitely something that happened.”

Lucy opens her mouth, then shuts it. She reaches for the last cookie and eats it, partly to give herself an excuse not to talk, then brushes off the crumbs and gets to her feet. “Well, if I am heading over there today, I should get going before the traffic gets too bad. I should at least tell her that I finished.”

“Because you’re hoping she’ll finally tell you that she’s proud of you?” Amy glances up at her. “You know you did a good job even if she can’t choke it out, right?”

“Of course I know.” Lucy manages a smile, picking up her purse. “See you later, Ames.”

Her baby sister hugs her, not without a final look, and Lucy lets herself out, heading to the parking lot and getting into her car. She drives down to the Preston family home in Mountain View, the attractive four-bedroom ranch house on an affluent, leafy street where Lucy grew up. Worth a tidy chunk of change if Carol decided to downsize, since it’s currently just her living there, but she has held onto it. Not good at letting go of things, Carol Preston. It is only in the last few days that Lucy has realized just how much, and it saddens her.

A light is on in the kitchen as Lucy parks by the curb and gets out. She heads up the front steps, noting that the plants could use some watering; it’s not like her mother to let things droop, or look anything less than perfect, daughters or azaleas alike. This is her house as much as anyone’s, and yet Lucy stands there for a long moment, feeling as unwelcome as a door-to-door salesman or friendly local Jehovah’s Witness. It feels as if she finally got here the way she was intending to do seven years ago – before the accident, before nearly dying, before Flynn, before Flynn’s reappearance, before Benjamin Cahill and Rittenhouse, before everything that’s brought her back. She tries to rehearse words in her head, questions, justifications. Nothing really occurs to her.

Lucy swallows hard, and rings the bell.

It takes a bit before she hears footsteps, and then Carol Preston opens the door. She looks down at her eldest daughter in surprise, or perhaps confusion. Something about her seems as off, less than pristine, as the drying flowers, and her makeup is slightly smeared, though Lucy can’t imagine her mother actually crying. “Lucy,” Carol says. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been finishing my dissertation.” Lucy twists her fingers together anxiously. “I – I did finish, by the way. Just today. Dr. Underwood gave me her final changes, Dr. Gardener in anthropology still has to look it over as well, but he’s at a conference until Friday, so that will take a little longer. But – yeah, it’s done, I did it.”

“I see.” Carol considers, then steps back. “I think we should talk. Come in.”

Lucy follows her mother inside, wondering if Carol’s guessed somehow, if Cahill came by to creep on her as well or ask why she never told Lucy the truth, and feels absurdly guilty for causing more trouble. She almost starts to apologize, though with no idea what for, and a tiny, ridiculous part of her half-hopes that Flynn will be sitting in the kitchen, somewhat recovered if doubtless no more tactful, come by to ask Carol what she knows about Rittenhouse. Which seems like a bold move, given that he’s a wanted fugitive from the government, but reality doesn’t have much to do with Lucy’s thought process just now.

Nonetheless, it comes crashing back in in a cold, sobering wave when they step ins. There’s a piece of paper lying on the counter, and Lucy can’t see the wording, but it looks clinical. Hospital. Carol turns it over as Lucy tries to get a better look, then says, “Tea?”

“No, it’s all right, I was just over at – ” Lucy stops. “Mom, is… is everything…?”

“I went to get that cough checked out, like you wanted,” Carol says, after a slight pause. “And, well, the scan turned something up in one of my lungs. They’re going to run more tests, they can’t be sure, but there’s a possibility it’s malignant.”

She says this like the professor she’s been for thirty years, explaining a difficult fact with her usual classroom voice, and so it takes Lucy a moment to understand. Then she does, and it feels as if the world has gone out from under her feet. “M… malignant? As in cancer?”

“Yes.” Carol takes a deep breath. “I suppose it’s not entirely unexpected – your father was a heavy smoker, after all, and I never picked up the habit until I met him. I stopped when he died, of course, but if this does come back positive…”

Part of Lucy wants to inform Carol point-blank that she knows Henry Wallace isn’t her father and never was. The rest of her wonders how awful you have to be, to confront your mother about that when she’s just told you that she might have cancer. “I – I, I’m so sorry,” she stammers, once more as if this is her fault, has not gotten the right score on a test or has whined about never having summers off. “Mom, I’m sure it’s fine, but if – ”

“But if it’s not?” Carol looks at her levelly. “I know we’ve had a bit of distance recently, Lucy, but this is the sort of news to put things in perspective. Of course, there’s medicine, there’s chemotherapy, there’s options. We don’t know anything yet. But if the worst-case scenario does come to pass, I really want to make the most of whatever time I have with you. There’s still so much I need to teach you, to talk with you about.”

Yes, Lucy thinks, there is. But any urgent desire to force answers to all her questions has vanished in her flood of guilt and fear and concern. “Of course, Mom, of course. If there’s anything I can do – and I’m sure Amy too, we’d both be happy to – ”

“I’m not sure about Amy.” Carol sighs. “But if you have finished your dissertation, like you said, and therefore don’t need to be at campus every day… I’ve seen that apartment of yours, Lucy. It’s terrible. Is there any way you might consider moving back in? We would be closer here, we’d be together. It would be easier, and if I did get sick…”

“No, of course. Of course I’ll move back in. Absolutely, you don’t have to worry about that at all. My lease on campus runs through the end of the school year, but – ”

“I’ll pay your early termination fees.” Carol takes Lucy’s hand. “I really want us to be together again. Believe me.”

“Me too,” Lucy says in a rush. “But – if the test did come back clean – if you’re not really… well.” She can’t bring herself to utter the name aloud, speak of the devil and he will appear. “If you’re not… sick, do you… will you still want me back?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t I?” Carol looks hurt. “Do you think I only love you when you’re useful? You are my daughter, my eldest daughter. So much like me, my historian. You’re so bright and you’ve worked so hard. Of course I want you back.”

Lucy opens and shuts her mouth, then reaches out, and Carol wraps her arms around her, pulling her close, as Lucy rests her chin on her mother’s shoulder and has to struggle to blink back tears. And so, within ten minutes of going home with the intention of some final confrontation, some ultimatum or insistence on separating herself from Carol’s trunk, Lucy instead cleaves back in, root and branch, and promises that she will never bring it up again.

There really isn’t time to arrange a move – even a short-range one – between the last-minute rush of dissertation edits, job applications, and graduation plans, and Lucy’s apartment has a few pitiful half-full boxes sitting around, which she will toss things into when she remembers. She feels like a terrible daughter, which is not helped when Amy calls her up at the end of the week and wants to know what happened to telling Mom off. “You know how she is, Lucy! Even if – God forbid – she was actually sick, doesn’t this seem a little…?”

“A little what?” Lucy challenges. “Are you really going to accuse our mother of faking possible lung cancer just because she wants – I don’t know what, something?”

“I didn’t say she was faking,” Amy says reluctantly. “I’ve been worried about her health too. But Mom has a couple nest eggs, you know she does. If it got to the point that she needed a live-in helper, she could hire someone who actually knew what they were doing and would get properly paid for it. That’s not your job. You’re not that kind of doctor.”

“I know.” Lucy shifts the phone to her other shoulder. “But – look, I know what we talked about, I know what we said. I just don’t think this is the right time to bring it up.”

Amy doesn’t argue with her again, but Lucy can sense that she still isn’t pleased. And yet, all of that goes out the window when Carol calls them both and says they should come by, there’s something she needs to tell them. That doesn’t sound like the kind of invitation that ends with “and nothing’s wrong, the doctor said I’m fine,” and indeed, it doesn’t. The biopsy results came back. It’s cancer. Carol’s prognosis isn’t terrible – they caught it before it was already irreversible – but it’s not particularly great either. The words fifty-fifty chance are used. A lot will depend on how she responds to treatment.

Amy starts to cry – she and Mom have fought a lot, but they do still love each other – and Lucy puts an arm around her, feeling numb. It feels crass to ask for any graduation celebration, even if she’d like one. Suddenly, even applying for jobs is up in the air. Lucy doesn’t want to complain about being inconvenienced by her mother’s serious illness, but she was so ready to start her own life, do something else, stretch her wings, and now she’s back in the birdcage, throwing away the key. It just doesn’t seem (and she winces at the thought) fair.

Lucy finishes the rest of the revisions recommended by her second supervisor in a blur. At the last meeting before this three-hundred-page monster is sent off to the committee for reading and to the printing service for binding, Dr. Underwood mentions that she’s been in contact with the history department at Kenyon College in Ohio. Kenyon is a small liberal arts college, upper-tier and avant-garde, and while it would unfortunately mean living in Ohio, there is currently an opening in the faculty for a junior lecturer with almost exactly Lucy’s research specialty. Dr. Underwood has passed her name on, and the people at Kenyon would like to speak to her next week, if that works.

Lucy’s first reaction is delight and disbelief. Tailor-made opportunities for academic jobs at places where you would like to work, and that are looking for your research interests, are as rare as the proverbial rain on the Sahara. She’s thought for a while that she’d like to teach at a small liberal arts school, one of the places that doesn’t think SAT scores are a good measure of academic performance and give a lot of focus to student development – somewhere in the Northeast, maybe. Sarah Lawrence, Vassar, Middlebury, Wellesley, something in that vein, the usual schools described as “diehard liberal” by U.S News and World Report in their college rankings. Stanford is obviously Stanford, but it takes a lot of work not to get lost in the machine, and plenty of students who come through Lucy’s classes now are clearly just checking elective boxes and playing on their laptops during lecture. At a place like Kenyon, she could actually talk to them more, have smaller and more immersive seminars, supervise senior projects and have more of a say in shaping the department. Have that exact chance to make it her own, rather than following in predestined footsteps.

At that, however, something catches Lucy short. She remembers Benjamin Cahill essentially promising her that he could get her any dream job she wanted, anywhere in the country. Is this Rittenhouse’s clever new strategy? Realize that the face-to-face approach backfired bombastically, and take a more subtle approach, pull some strings and call in some favors so this fat juicy worm just happened to land on the right hook? Would she move there and find herself surrounded by their people, or expected to pay something substantial back?

Asking Dr. Underwood about this, however, just makes Lucy sound crazy. She doesn’t mention anyone by name, but she delicately probes whether anyone just happened to call up and offer this, and if so, why. Dr. Underwood is puzzled, says that no, this has been in the works for a while and it just happened to time well with Lucy’s completion. Due to someone who knows Dr. Underwood, who supervised so-and-so’s thesis, etc. – not the creepy Rittenhouse networks of patronage, but just the usual byzantine channels of academia – Lucy currently holds right of first refusal on the job. If she turns it down, they’ll shop it more broadly, but assuming she doesn’t completely bomb the interview, buys some winter clothes, and is all right exchanging Palo Alto for Gambier, it’s hers if she wants it.

“I…” Lucy hesitates. “My… my mom was just… she was actually just diagnosed. With cancer. She wants me to move back in and spend more time with her. I don’t know if I could justify going to Ohio instead. That’s the exact opposite of what she wants.”

Dr. Underwood hastens to offer her sympathy, and appreciates that this is a difficult decision for Lucy to make. However, while she knows family commitments are important, ultimately Lucy needs to think about what she wants from her career and getting established and so on. If Lucy does decide to stay in California, there will probably be several teaching opportunities at Stanford for her, and she’ll submit papers to journals and attend conferences and the rest of the rigmarole that it takes to be a Professional Academic ™. It’s not necessarily the wrong thing to do. But Dr. Underwood thinks Lucy should consider the Kenyon job carefully. She knew Carol when they were both faculty in the department, knows what kind of personality she had, and maybe it’s not the worst thing for Lucy to go.

Lucy nods and smiles, even as she wants to go somewhere private, put her face in a pillow, and scream. At least the damn dissertation is done, exam date is firmly set, no more of that, no more, praise Jesus, NO MORE. She picks up her bag, swings it to her shoulder, and heads out of Dr. Underwood’s office, riding down the elevator and stepping out into the foyer. As she does, she collides with someone coming the other way, and starts into the usual apology. But as she does, she catches a glimpse of the face under the hat, and freezes. Reaches out to grab at his jacket sleeve, her voice a hiss.

“Flynn?”

Garcia Flynn has not been having the greatest week. Or two. Or three.

He stayed for six days in the hospital, being cared for by a doctor named Noah who was entirely professional to all outward manners and appearances, but who kept shooting him looks out of the corner of his eye that made Flynn suspect the worst. Either he’s a Rittenhouse agent, or he used to be some sort of gentleman acquaintance to Lucy, and Flynn would almost prefer the former. At least that way he could kill him without anyone being too upset about it.

Of course, and regretfully, killing is off the table, at least for the moment. At least for Flynn himself, as he’s fairly sure that Rittenhouse has authorized everything short of public beheading to apprehend him, and which was why he decided that he was no longer going to trust to the dubious safety of Santa Rosa Memorial and the judgment of Noah. . . whatever his damn last name is, Flynn hasn’t been arsed either to find out or remember it. So he checked himself out against medical advice, gave a fake name and address for the bill (the American health system is a racket anyway, and technically he’s supposed to have insurance – yes, the NSA does offer dental) and left the rental car in the garage. It’s too conspicuous, and he has bigger fish to fry than whether he is blacklisted by Enterprise in the future. They can take it up with John Thompkins, later.

After which, Flynn rode a Greyhound (yes, it’s as miserable as you’d think, especially when you’re six-foot-four) to some shithole Inland Empire city, somewhere in California close to the Nevada border where nobody goes if they can possibly avoid it, probably still riddled with decades-old radiation from the Las Vegas test site. Rented a room in some motel that definitely has one filled with haunted clown dolls, laid low, gingerly tended his raw wounds with over-the-counter antibiotics and sutures, and was forced to admit it was a good thing he did not die of septicemia. He hasn’t succeeded in coming up with a new plan just yet, as it’s clear that he’s been cut off from the usual channels with extreme prejudice. He has kept his old phone with the NSA numbers, but keeps it switched off and hasn’t used it. He can’t risk calling Karl to see what he did, or did not, know about the Wyatt Logan fiasco.

And so, Flynn grimly considers his options. He can try to throw together another fake identity and go to Canada, or travel on his real name back to Europe and hope they haven’t gotten Interpol on this, or just lie here in a motel room that might literally be the manifestation of hell on earth, with air conditioner that barely works in 25-plus Celsius heat and a stain that looks like a murder victim on the carpet. If Rittenhouse is after him, no holds barred, he may just be able to avoid their notice if he stays, especially for a man whose professional tradecraft is disappearing. And yet.

The more Flynn thinks it over, the more he can’t account for everything going sideways as fast and as comprehensively as it did, unless Rittenhouse was plugged into the whole thing almost from the beginning. They must have multiple high-level operatives across several branches of government, focusing on the ones you’d expect – CIA, NSA, FBI, Homeland Security, whoever’s stealing your personal information these days – but by no means limited to them. They could be salted through every level of middle bureaucracy (he wonders if all DMV and IRS workers get an automatic membership) and beyond. It sounds ridiculously, relentlessly paranoid, like that prizewinning intellectual who insists that the Royal Family and other leading British celebrities are all secretly lizard people. But given what Flynn saw at the gala, Cahill and his powerful, well-connected, wealthy friends, this also might not be entirely off the ranch, and that means he has to do more digging. Where?

It takes him a bit, but he recalls what Lucy said to him at their first (well, first real) meeting. Something about David Rittenhouse, who Flynn discovered to be a famous eighteenth-century astronomer and professor at the University of Pennsylvania, and asking if he founded it. Flynn doesn’t know the answer to that question, but it seems to strain credulity that the man it’s literally named after has nothing to do with it. It also is not a given that Rittenhouse’s secret archives are housed somewhere at UPenn, but there are several things named after the man in Philadelphia. It’s not entirely implausible.

That, therefore, is where Flynn is faced with the final part of the plan. It’s going to be hard enough for him to get in as it is, what with the Take Dead or Alive order they probably have out on his head. But if he didn’t appear to be attached to it – if it was just an innocent research visit from an up-and-coming academic who would have plenty of legit business with UPenn’s history collections on colonial America, and he just so happened to appear –

Flynn is well aware that this is quite a reach. That it’s dangerous, that it’s unfair, that he doesn’t really have any right to ask it, given how their last parting went, and what he said then. That she has any number of things to do right now, and none of them necessarily involve dropping all her work and heading cross-country to pick up, again, the world’s most demented and dangerous scavenger hunt with him. No sir.

He checks out of the motel and hops a ride with a trucker the next morning.

As they stare at each other for a very long and very excruciating moment, all Lucy can think is that he shouldn’t be here. Rittenhouse could have been watching her from afar, guessing (correctly, apparently) that she will prove too tempting a target for Flynn to resist contacting again. Maybe this is the moment they jump out and dogpile them both, or – or –

Lucy hesitates only a split second before tightening her grip on Flynn and dragging him around the corner into an unused classroom. She bangs shut the door behind them and leans against it, legs trembling. “You need to get out of here.”

“You just shut me in.” Trust Flynn to have a smart-aleck response readily at hand, as he watches her from under hooded eyes. “We would need to try reversing that first.”

“Just be quiet.” Lucy clenches her fists, fighting a brief urge to slap him. “Did anyone see you?”

He shrugs. “It’s a public university, I imagine they did. Nobody who seemed to recognize me, though.”

Lucy blows out a breath, getting the table between them just so there will be something to prevent her – or him – from anything intemperate. “You’re such a bastard.”

A hard, sardonic smile glimmers in the edges of his mouth. He seems unruffled by the accusation, almost even pleased. He does not bother with small talk, explaining where he’s been, or why he said everything he did in the hospital. (Don’t fool yourself that I want to see you again. . . this is my war, I don’t need you and yet, lo and behold, here he is. He’s a disaster.) Instead he says, “Did you finish your dissertation?”

“Yes,” Lucy says, curt and unwilling. “I have a lot going on, a lot, so why don’t you just – ”

“Is there anything else you can pretend to be working on?”

“What?” Screw the table, she might want to do something intemperate after all. “Why?”

His eyes remain on hers, cool and unswerving. “I need your help.”

[qqueenofhades]

Please give me more trash saga! I can never get enough of this perfection. I need more now

there was smut and then there was plot and then there was smut/plot and how is this the ninth godforsaken installment of the trash saga of flynn and lucy already, i have completely lost control of my goddamn life

The sun is low and bloody in the west by the time Lucy,Wyatt, Rufus, and Iris duck into the secluded, wooded grove where Flynn hastold them to meet him, where the Mothership is parked. They stand in tensesilence until twigs crackle, Wyatt puts his hand to his gun by reflex, andFlynn and Emma Whitmore emerge from the trees, at which Wyatt does notnecessarily remove it. “Right,” he says grimly. “So I guess we’re doing this.”

Lucy gives the lot of them a behave, children look; she really hopes Rufus is up to the task ofwrangling Flynn and Wyatt back in 2017. She is feeling sick again in a way thatdoesn’t even have to do with the failed time jump, a roil of nerves and anxietyand the overwhelming sense that she’s not ready, she’s not ready. She smoothsdown her skirt several times, which it doesn’t need, as Flynn, Wyatt, and Rufusexamine the Mothership and make sure that it’s good to go. Hopefully they won’tstart the brawl until after they land. Lucy herself will be staying here withIris and with Emma, who has agreed to see if she can get the Lifeboat workingagain. She also has experience living in the past and around this time, seeingas she met Napoleon a few years ago, and after roughing it in a cabin in 1882,she will be useful in teaching the nuts and bolts of nineteenth-centuryliving. Hopefully not for too long, but who knows. Lucy supposes that she isbeing wildly optimistic to think that the boys will get to the present, make afew tweaks, and she’ll be sailing home again, free as a bird. It has neverworked that way to date.

Still, though, she bites her tongue. They know the odds,they don’t need her to tell them. She hugs Rufus and Wyatt hard, then turns toFlynn. They eye each other awkwardly. An emotional hug is not really theirstyle, no way is she going to kiss him in front of everyone (especially whenshe’s still more than a little pissed at him) and yet, she can’t exactly lethim go without a word. Finally, she coughs and holds out her hand.

One of his dimples twitches, in amusement or exasperation,but he shakes it. Then, swiftly – and probably just to annoy Wyatt, who’swatching him like a hawk – he bends, presses a fleeting kiss to it, and letsgo. Looks for a long moment at both Lucy and Iris, in case he doesn’t make itback. Follows Wyatt and Rufus up into the Mothership, and the door cycles shutwith a hydraulic hiss. The lights glow blue, the revolutions gun up, the enginewhines. A moment later, it blasts out of existence with a force that shakes thetrees, and the women stand there in the ringing quiet. Then Emma turns to Lucyand remarks lightly, “So how long have you been sleeping with him?”

Lucy chokes. “What?”

“Come on. It is prettyobvious. I’ve never known Flynn to do anything for anyone, much less leave themission for it. You must be special.”

This unaccountably rankles Lucy, even if it’s just her old,irrational jealousy about the fact that Flynn and Emma have obviously beenspending time together, seeing as Flynnalready took the opportunity to barb her about it once. “Well, maybe you don’tactually know him that well.”

Emma shrugs. “Or maybe you don’t. Well, I’m guessing wecan find lodgings in town – especially if you’re the wife of a Navy officer.You’ve figured out something to tell Cochrane when he asks where Flynn’s gone,haven’t you?”

“Working on it.” Lucy takes Iris’ hand, eager to get out ofthe darkening woods. It’s still definitely wilderness here after the sun goesdown, especially feeling very alone. “So what’s your cover story, then?”

“I’m your sister, aren’t I?”

This rankles Lucy again, once more for no good reason, evenas this is clearly the logical explanation. Amyis my sister, she wants to say. But Amy doesn’t exist, and neither doesshe, and there isn’t time for this. She nods, and they start to walk.

By the time they’ve found a room in a Baltimore boardinghouse, a drafty attic with a bed, a nightstand, a washing basin, and atrunk, the noise of the tavern filtering through the floorboards, Lucy isabsorbed in getting dinner for Iris, telling her a story, and tucking her underthe quilts. She’s not necessarily a naturally maternal person, but it is takingcare of someone who needs it, and that’s always been what she wants to do, whatshe tries to do. As they sit there on the spindly chairs in the low-burninglamplight – not much else to do, no Netflix or Facebook, not even embroidery ora book – Emma says, “You’re good with her. Kids of your own?”

“What? No, no.”

“Not going to accidentally end up with one, are you?Nineteenth-century childbirth might not be the Dark Ages, but it’s not exactlya picnic.”

“I know.” Lucy gives her an odd look. “And I’m – I get Depo-Provera shots, it is not going to be an issue, trust me. Why this sudden interestin my sex life?”

“I suppose I’m curious. You’re hired to stop this guy fromdestroying history. You know he’s no good. He’s your enemy, and the enemy ofyour friends. Now he’s done this to you. Where exactly in all of that did youdecide to – whatever you did decide?”

This is, to say the least, a personal and prying line ofquestioning, especially since Lucy doesn’t have any readily available answers.“Scouting out the competition?”

Emma smiles faintly. “Relax. Flynn isn’t my type.”

“You’re working with him, though. Spent a lot of timetogether?”

“He wants to destroy Rittenhouse. I’m in.”

Lucy glances at her sidelong, oddly comforted by herassurances that there’s nothing going on, even as she knows that this isdecidedly the least of their problems. They don’t talk much after that, but thesilence is slightly more cordial, and they manage to get some sleep, ratherunavoidably familiar in the narrow bed with Iris squashed between them. Thenthe next morning, they head out bright and early to the grove where the deadLifeboat is parked, so Emma can get started on tinkering with it.

Lucy is obviously not the mechanical engineer on the team,but she’s spent enough time in the damn thing to be more or less familiar withits bells and whistles. She offers to help, but Emma says it’s better if shedoesn’t. Gets dug into the consoles, studies the schematics, starts tryingcodes and overriddes, as Lucy, who doesn’t like feeling useless, tries todistract herself by playing tag with Iris in the meadow. At one point, shethinks she hears Emma transmitting something, so she frowns, gets up, and goesover. “Hey, did you get it to work?”

Emma starts. “I’m trying the emergency frequencies. Thereare safeguards built in, backup plans. The Lifeboat itself wasn’t the onlyprecaution that Connor Mason took when he was designing this thing. There arepeople who I might be able to patch in.”

“Yes, but seeing as Mason Industries is under the control ofRittenhouse now, I’m not entirely sure that’s a – ”

The other woman looks impatient. “There’s no way Rittenhouseknows about all of Mason’s back doors, trust me. If I can send up the emergencyflare, there are systems in place to get someone to us. Make contact.”

That rubs Lucy the wrong way, for some reason. “What –there’s not a third time machine, isthere?”

“Not as far as I know.” Emma squints at the console board,tongue between her teeth. “But I’m not the only one who did trial runs. Thereare more of us out there.”

“What, planted through history? Is that part of the job perkpackage that Mason Industries offered? Do terribly dangerous test drives of atime machine, and you get to visit anywhere, anywhen you want?” Lucy isn’t exactly reassured. “I got theimpression that it was an accident you were out there in the woods, hiding byyourself. So afraid of Rittenhouse that you couldn’t even risk coming home. Soyou were what, hunting bears and setting up ham radios with your friends? Oneof you hanging out with Napoleon, another with Ivan the Terrible?”

“Calm down, Lucy, it’s something that I’m trying to use tosave our necks.” Emma goes back to typing. “Neither of us think Flynn’s going to come through, do we?”

Lucy opens her mouth, can’t think of what to say, and shutsit. Then they’re interrupted by Iris, sticking her head in. “Lucy, can we goback yet?”

“Working on it.” Lucy seems to be working on a lot of thingsthese days. Iris has gamely held up to the adventure thus far, but it’s still1814, and Lucy herself is starting to think that it won’t be particularly funto live without modern comforts for long; it’s unfair to ask an eight-year-oldto do it, especially one whose return to life is shrouded in mystery and mightbe changing again if things take another swing. “Miss Whitmore is trying to getthat fixed for us.”

“Miss Whitmore? No thanks. Makes me sound like akindergarten teacher. Emma is fine.”

“Okay, then. Emma.”

“Lucy,” Iris says. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” Lucy says, distracted. “We’ll go back into town in alittle bit, Iris, okay?”

“Lucy, I’m hungry.”

“I said, in a little bit.”

“BUT I’M HUNGRY NOW!”

“Iris! I said in alittle bit!”

There is a slightly excruciating silence as they stare ateach other, Emma raises one gingery eyebrow, and Iris’ lip begins to wobble.Until now, Lucy has been her cool older sister/mother figure/partner in funadventure, but the disciplinarian is less enjoyable. Lucy has a moment to feelterrible, and blows out a breath. She doesn’t want to walk all the way intotown and back, but summons up a smile. “I’m sorry. Let’s go find something toeat. Emma, is that okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll get a lot more done without you breathing downmy neck, anyway.”

Lucy pauses, then nods. Takes Iris to walk her back intoBaltimore. As they’re trudging, the girl says, “I want Mommy.”

“I’m sure you do.” Lucy can’t help but wonder, suddenly, ifFlynn will meet an also-alive Lorena, back in the present. If even the idea ofFlynn and Emma twists her guts in knots, this feels like King Kong has her aroundthe middle, and that’s the most horrible and selfish of all. She knows how longFlynn has been fighting for the chance to see his family again, and she is thelast person to want to deprive him of that reunion.  And yet… and yet…

She determinedly and spiritedly ignores this line ofthought, as they get back into town, are able to get food thanks to hershamelessly trading on her identity as “Mrs. Flynn,” wife to Cochrane’s aide,and feels Iris’ eyes on her from behind. Once they’re eating, she saysabruptly, “Did you marry my daddy?”

“No. We’re…” There is absolutely no way to explain to aneight-year-old what they are. “We know each other, that’s all. We worktogether. He’s gone with my friends to fix a problem he caused.”

Iris considers her with that guarded stare so very like herfather’s. “Good,” she says emphatically. “Because Mommy is married to Daddy. Mommy.”

Lucy fights back a prickle of irritation. She would have tobe the world’s worst person to argue with a child about this, a child whonaturally longs to have her parents back, her world repaired. Besides, as shesurely isn’t about to actually pop the question to Flynn any time soon (orobviously, vice versa) it’s a moot point anyway. Instead, she smiles. “Eat up,okay?”

Once they’re finished, they walk the few miles back to theLifeboat; Iris gets tired halfway through, as it’s a lot of tramping for littlelegs, and Lucy gives her a piggyback. When they arrive, Emma is lookinggrease-spattered but exultant. “Well, you can thank me now. Think I hacked it.Someone’s coming to meet us in a few hours.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. One of Mason’s emergency timestream contacts. They’lltake us to a safe house, they will probably have stuff to fix the Lifeboatproperly. Of course, that doesn’t help us until we know you can go back safely,but believe me. These guys know their shit.”

Lucy gives her a look to remind her that there is a childlistening, but she can’t say anything to demur. There is a faint cold prickleon the back of her neck, but she ignores it. They wait a few hours until, asdusk is falling, they hear hoofbeats in the glade. A few moments later, ahalf-dozen men on horseback ride out, American soldiers from the look of them,but who don’t seem all that fussed to see a giant mechanical eyeball sitting inthe clearing. One of them calls, “Whitmore?”

“That’s me.” Emma steps down and strides over to clasp theirhands. “They’re here, just like I said.”

“And you are?” Lucy stands up, instinctively reaching forIris. “Emma’s… friends?”

“That’s right. You’re safe.” The rider doffs his hat, thenholds out his hand. “Lucy Preston? Lucy Preston-Cahill? It’s an honor. It’ssuch an honor to meet you.”

————–

Wyatt Logan does not like this plan.

Wyatt Logan was never going to like this plan, and in factit’s difficult to think of any plan that Wyatt Logan would like less, but as-per-fucking-usual,Flynn has dicked them over (Wyatt does not want to think about any other kindof dicking he has done recently) and here they are, landing the Mothership inwhatever version of 2017 this is, this place where Lucy doesn’t exist, and theyget the oh-so-fun task of figuring out why. They clamber out intowhatever dingy East Bay garage Rufus has parked them in, brushing off andlooking around. Wyatt swallows extra hard, because absolutely on no account ishe going to be seasick in front of you-know-who, and does his best to soundbracing. “Well. Come on.”

Given that they are two fugitives from justice (or rather, evilorganization, but whatever) and one international terrorist, the last thingthey want to do is stroll down the street together with a giant ARREST US sign flashingoverhead, but Wyatt is not about to let Flynn out of his sight, and he’s not goingto suggest that Rufus wander off alone either. When they cautiously ventureout, however, nobody seems to be glancing twice at them. They can, you know, strollaround in public, normally. Wyatt even goes so far as to let them be caught ona security camera or two, which should do the trick if Rittenhouse has eyes onthe city system (if so, he and Flynn will have to break some heads – the guy isthe worst human being alive, but he can fight).Still nothing. They appear, incredulously, to be in the clear.

Wyatt and Flynn exchange a baffled look, rivalry momentarilyforgotten in their confusion. Wyatt pushes away the thought that somehow Flynnactually did do something right,completely ass-backwardly, and managed to eradicate Rittenhouse, even whiletaking Lucy along with it. Then they’re interrupted by Rufus, who’s staring ata newsstand. “Um… guys?”

They turn around, look at what has him so interested, and that, with no preliminary whatsoever, is how they discover that somethingthe CSA – and yes, that does stand for Confederate States of America – has doneis causing renewed outrage and the breakoff of diplomatic ties between Washingtonand Richmond. Rufus whips out his phone and frantically begins to Wikipedia,and they go on to learn that as a result of Fort McHenry falling to the Britishin 1814, they were able to establish a foothold, conquer more of New England,and hold it for the next few decades, with sporadic warfare on and off, until “OldHickory,” Andrew Jackson, whipped them out. This, of course, left the Northbadly divided and unable to stand together in the upcoming Civil War, which theSouth then won in fairly short and decisive order. The slave states accordinglyseceded, the CSA was founded, and America has been a house divided ever since,with persistent and ongoing conflict between the two. Yes, Trump is the currentpresident of the CSA. The president of the USA is Josiah Bartlet. No, really.

“What – so he’s not a WestWing character, he’s –?” This, after everything, is the one thing Wyatt isnot prepared to take, and he sags onto a park bench, before he rounds on Flynn.“Look what you did! Look what you did! This– history isn’t even recognizable!”

“I hate to take his side in this,” Rufus says unexpectedly.“But we’re also not under arrest and about to be waterboarded or whatever. Nobody’slooking for us. We’re free.”

Wyatt gives him a wounded look, but this has also struckhim. “So… no Rittenhouse?”

“Or at least not as powerful. Maybe a couple of closetedwackos plotting to regain the glory days, but no vast tinfoil-hat club ofcreepy old white dudes who think they get to play chess with the rest of theworld.” Rufus looks troubled. “But the fact that something actually named theConfederate States of America exists… I’m not sure that’s the greatesttradeoff.”

“And no Lucy.” Wyatt blows out a breath. “Her dad is – was? –Rittenhouse, is it that he doesn’t exist, or that he just didn’t join the organizationin the first place?”

“Well,” Flynn says shortly. “If you’re done wallowing, maybewe can find out.”

“Yeah, that reminds me. We better find out for sure if we’rein the clear.” With that, Wyatt grabs Flynn by the collar, warns him with alook that he will do much worse if he struggles, and marches him across thestreet into the police station, flashes badges, and does the patter; he’s been aroundlaw enforcement, he knows how it works. “Hey, I’m a parole officer, I got oneof my felons on bail here. Need to see what’s on his record.”

Flynn gives him an absolutely evil look, but somehow managesto restrain himself.  But when “GarciaFlynn” in a database doesn’t conjure up an extensive criminal record ofterrible decisions, or for that matter any rap sheet at all, the officer givesthem a funny look and asks where they were from, again, and Wyatt has to makeexcuses to get them out of there in a hurry. “Wow,” he says, out back in thealley. “That’s definitely the most unbelievable thing about this new reality. Noway you’re actually innocent.”

“Are you just feeling jealous, cowboy?” Flynn flashes aslit-eyed smile. “Knowing which one of us Lucy’s sleeping with these days?”

Wyatt’s hand springs into a fist, Flynn gives him a come-at-me-bro look, and they are aboutto face off in the alley (and, for that matter, probably actually get arrested)when Rufus jumps in the middle. “Yeah. Later. Lucy, or am I the only one here that cares about her as a person,and not some kind of sick little piece in your boring brinksmanship contest?”

Suitably chastened, Wyatt and Flynn back off, glare at eachother once more for good measure, and slope after Rufus. He is clearly making abeeline straight to Jiya’s apartment, as he wants to see her without the dangerthat Rittenhouse will swoop in and hang her by her thumbs, and because she’llbe the best lead they have, if she remembers Lucy, on getting the investigationstarted. But when they knock, Jiya opens the door, and stares at them, it’swith no hint of recognition. “Um? Sorry? Can I help you?”

“Jiya?” Rufus has been beaming in anticipation, but at that,it dims. “Jiya? It’s me!”

“It’s… who?”

“We’re coworkers. At Mason Industries. And I’m your…”Rufus coughs. Shyly he says, “I’m your boyfriend, remember?”

“Um. No. I think I would know that.” Jiya evaluates themcritically. “What are these? Your friends?”

“No, they’re not my friends,” Rufus says. “At least whenthey’re being dicks. But, um, that’s beside the point. You have to remember me,don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Look, whatever your game is, not funny. Beat it, or I’mcalling the cops.” With that, Jiya slams the door in his face.

Rufus jerks back, looking stunned, and Wyatt puts a hand onhis shoulder. “Hey. Buddy. I’m sorry, okay? We’ll fix that too.”

“We better!” Rufus wheels on Flynn. “My girlfriend does not remember me!”

Flynn raises one shoulder in an utterly blasé shrug. “Maybeyou aren’t that memorable.”

Wyatt gives Rufus a I-was-gonna-handle-him-earlierlook.

Rufus gives Wyatt aYeah-I-noticed look.

Both of them breathe deeply in through their noses and outthrough their mouths. They don’t want to try walking into Mason Industries incase Rufus doesn’t work there anymore, or someone still remembers that they’resupposed to pop them in the slammer. They end up, in the most unassuming ofplaces, a public library, while Rufus grouses about the shitty internetconnection and does some ninja Googling while Flynn and Wyatt eye each otherthrough the shelves. Finally, he discovers that yes, Benjamin Cahill exists.High-powered corporate lawyer in Orange County. Looks as smug and evil as ever.

“Okay, her dad is here, but so where’s her mom?” Rufus hastried several combinations of “carol preston,” “carol preston professor,” “carolpreston stanford,” “carol preston book,” and can’t seem to get any hits. “Howis her mom gone? If Rittenhouse isn’taround, it should be her dad.”

“Genius here probably got her mom’s side of the familykilled in this whole Civil War-that-never-ended thing,” Wyatt says, jerking athumb at Flynn. “Like living a nonstop Marvel movie, but way less entertaining.”

“Oh?” Flynn says in a growl. “It’s my fault that they died?”

“Considering you were the one to screw around with history,yes!”

They’re raising their voices, earning them evil looks from apair of passing librarians, and have to hastily pitch them down. “So,” Rufussays, quietly. “Anyone know who Lucy’s maternal grandparents were? Are wetalking them not meeting, or that the Prestons actually haven’t even existedfor several generations? Because it’s one thing if we have to get one set ofpeople to meet, bang, and produce Lucy, but if it’s the family tree dying outearlier… we’d theoretically have to ensure that her sixteen great-great-grandparents,eight great-grandparents, four grandparents, and two parents all met and fellin love as they were supposed to. At, like, the bare minimum. And it goeswithout saying, we can’t do that.”

Wyatt closes his eyes. “Great,” he says. “Great.”

“Never thought the fate of the world might rest on whether Ihad an Ancestry.com subscription,” Rufus mutters, typing away. He manages toget onto the site, but is thwarted by the fact that it’s incredibly difficult tosearch for Carol Preston’s pedigree and genealogy when Carol Preston does notexist. Frustrated, he bangs the keyboard, they nearly get evicted again by thevery unimpressed librarians, and Rufus surreptitiously flips them the birdunder the desk, takes a deep breath, and goes back to Google. Apparently as awhy-the-hell-not, he types in “lucy preston.”

There’s a long pause – slow even by the standards of crappy public computers – as the request processes through. Results pop up for otherpeople named Lucy Preston, but not their Lucy, as Flynn and Wyatt crane overboth his shoulders. Then, most unexpectedly, a message alert appears on thescreen. It fizzes, flickers in and out, and then goes Blue Screen of Death.

“What the – ” Rufus is about at the end of his rope,especially as accidentally getting a random-ass virus from this shitty piece ofshit with its shitty internet and shitty nonexistent malware protection is justthe way to improve his temper. He’s about to try rebooting, when a message popsup on the screen in brief, binary letters. Indeed, it gets directly to thepoint.

Bring the Mothership, itreads, and spits out an address, a date, and a time. Or they die.