Perfect Timing

A Timeless fanfic by SpaceCowboy.

Chapter One

In the dimly lit warehouse of Mason Industries, the lifeboat sat idle, reminding Agent Christopher of a giant cyborg eye she'd seen in an old sci-fi horror film. She'd never admit it, but the thing scared the bejeezus out of her.

She was content keeping her distance behind the computer banks and leaving the mechanics, along with the physical theoretic of space-time continuums to better trained, and less frightened people than herself. As far as she was concerned, Mason could have his time machine, she'd take a drug bust or armed robbery any day.

Christopher understood the importance of the time machine, and preserving history, but capturing Garcia Flynn topped her agenda. And why she'd fought hard to get a soldier added to team.

The bureau wanted one of their own. Mason wanted a senior member of his personal security staff, but Christopher reasoned a soldier with Wyatt's background brought more value. Not just for his Delta Force training, but because recent events in his life left him more… willing, to get the job done by any means possible.

Familiar with his case, she'd immediately thought of him when pressed to present a candidate for the initial mission. His wife's unsolved murder, to which he blamed himself, created in him a dangerous mix of inflated sense of justice and dwindling fear of death. Which meant to Christopher, he'd stop at nothing till the job was done.

She'd also read the mission report, where in Syria he'd lost his whole squad, and figured he'd be hard pressed to leave a teammate behind.

Christopher commiserated with Wyatt; those were horrible situations to live with. But fortunately, they made him into the exact soldier needed to take down ex-NSA operative, Garcia Flynn.

"I'm betting Rufus," said Jiya.

Torn from her thoughts, Christopher looked down at the technician at her desk. "What?"

"To get here first."

Christopher pulled a five-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed it next to Jiya's computer. "You always call Rufus. Wyatt," she said.

"And you always call Wyatt," said Connor Mason, throwing down a ten dollar bill. "Double or nothing? I say Lucy."

~Timeless~

Lucy sighed and dropped her cell phone onto the bed beside her. Arms heavy with sleep, she pushed the covers away and swung her feet to the floor.

"Why does Flynn need to leave at two am?" she muttered.

She grabbed an elastic from her bedside table and wrapped it around a handful of hair before dressing and heading downstairs. On her way through the kitchen she paused to consider making coffee. The machine sat quiet on the counter, teasing her with promises of caffeine, but the ruckus of grinding gears would surely wake her mother.

She figured just because her job kept the most inopportune hours, it didn't mean her mother should suffer, so she grabbed her keys off the counter and headed for the door. "Take-out will have to do," she sighed.

In her car, she used her Bluetooth to call Rufus first.

"Yeah, hello?" came his gravelly voice.

In the background she heard honking. "Are you in traffic?" she asked, glancing down her empty street.

"Can you believe it? Who in their right mind is out at this time of the morning?"

"Us."

"Yeah, but we don't live normal lives, remember?"

"True enough," replied Lucy.

She pulled her car onto Simpson Street, turning left instead of right to catch the coffee shop closest to her house. It meant taking a different route to Mason Industries, but if she was expected to travel through time in a metal death trap at two in the morning, she definitely needed coffee.

"So, do you have any idea why Flynn went back to feudal Japan?" asked Rufus. "'Cause I gotta say, Wyatt's good and all, but ninjas and samurai?"

Lucy shook her head, then remembered he couldn't see her. "No idea."

"Did you ask Wyatt? He was excited wasn't he? I bet there was fangirling. There was definitely fangirling, right?"

"I called you first," she replied, pulling into the parking lot of her local twenty-four hour coffee spot.

"What the hell!" cried Rufus.

"What? What happened?"

"Some douchebag just cut me off."

A few muffled words came over the line before Rufus spoke clearly again. "I'm gonna have to take another route," he said. "Might be a few minutes late. Which, you know, sounds kinda silly when you work with a time machine."

Lucy laughed. "Do you want coffee?"

"Got some," replied Rufus. "See ya when I get there."

The line cut off just in time for Lucy to get out. She grabbed a coffee, returned to her car and called Wyatt as she pulled back onto the street.

The soldier opened with, "yeah, yeah, I'm on my way," his voice harsh and phlegmy.

"Well good morning to you," replied Lucy.

Heavy breathing came over the line, followed by several clicks and the sound of a car door slamming. "Are you just leaving now?" she asked.

"Yeah," replied Wyatt. "Made coffee. I'd barely laid down when Christopher called."

"Late night?"

Static disrupted the line, like someone sighing too close to the microphone. Lucy cringed. She felt like she'd just stepped on a landmine. What Wyatt did in his off hours was none of her business. And based on his silence, she figured he wasn't in the sharing mood, and perhaps she'd just crossed the line.

She didn't doubt his late hours had to do with Jessica, with finding her killer and punishing himself with guilt and the occasional drink. But until he broached the subject, she'd keep her mouth closed. Forcing it would only create a rift between them, countermanding the closeness they'd achieved back in Arkansas.

"Do you know why Flynn's gone back this time?" he asked.

Lucy almost didn't hear him. "What? Flynn? Oh, I was just discussing that with Rufus," she replied.

"Oh, so you called him first?"

His teasing voice flushed her cheeks. "Um, well…"

"I'm just kidding, Luce."

She pictured his lips pulling into a lazy smirk.

"Lucy? You still there?"

"Oh, yeah, still here," she said.

Ever since their kiss back in 1934 Arkansas, she'd noticed how much more she noticed Wyatt. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but when their lips had touched, that lightening bolt she'd denied ever feeling, had struck right through her. She'd played coy at the time, but she couldn't deny something had changed between them.

But now was not the time, the job had to come first.

She cleared her throat, said good-bye and quickly ended the call. After a long breath, she gripped her steering wheel a little tighter and turned down an alley, hoping to shave a few minutes off her lengthened trip to work

~Timeless~

Wyatt smiled at his phone's home-screen, thumb hovering over the end-call button even after the line disconnected. "See ya soon… ma'am," he said, before tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

When Lucy was angry, her voice could shatter glass, but when flustered, the slight breaks and crescendos in her voice could rope him in from a country mile. He had to admit, sometimes he teased her just so he could hear that voice.

Feeling his ears burn, he tugged on his left lobe, then cleared his throat and sat back further in his seat. He pressed on the gas pedal, and turned his grandfather's old pick-up onto Main Street where two glaring headlights whited-out his vision.

"Damn it!"

Wyatt jerked the steering wheel left then right, narrowly missing the oncoming vehicle. A breath of relief exploded from his chest as he checked his side view mirror. The same two headlights glared in the reflection, growing quickly in size.

"What the hell?" he said, pressing his foot harder on the gas pedal.

The headlights disappeared from his window. He leaned forward for a better view right when the car hit his tailgate.

He lurched forward as his truck sped into the intersection. Streaks of light blurred past his window, he slammed on the brakes, elbows locked as he tried to control his careening truck. Focused out the front window, Wyatt didn't see the car on his left barrelling toward him until impact.

Wyatt's head struck the window with a crack, an icy hand gripped his skull. The seatbelt kept him upright and able to control the steering wheel, but the vehicle that hit him wasn't stopping. It forced Wyatt's truck off the side of the road, dropping the passenger side heavily into a shallow ditch.

The familiar rush of adrenaline snapped him to battle readiness. His dizziness abated, his heart pounded and his muscles flexed for flight. But first he had to get the damn seatbelt off.

He glanced out his window as his fingers fumbled with the latch. The belt clicked open, he tried the door, then his window shattered, spraying glass everywhere.

Shit!

He grabbed the gun in his holster and dove across the seat. He bailed out the passenger door, landing roughly in the ditch. On his feet, the dark night wobbled and spun around him. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his gun level as he pointed it over his truck.

The world pitched sideways. He dropped to one knee, needing the strength of both arms to keep his gun steady. Streetlights haloed in the distance, his truck shimmied and shook before his eyes.

Wyatt couldn't see anything, but knew better than to fire blindly into the night.

His lower left side exploded in hot searing pain, throwing him to the ground before he even heard the crack of the gun.

A double crack rent the air, gravel stung his face.

Too close! He scrambled to his feet and stumbled into the field beyond his truck, clutching his lower abdomen.

Lungs tight, dull warmth spreading across his stomach and bullets whizzing past his ears sent Wyatt's brain into overdrive. Where was his cell phone? Who was shooting at him? Would he see Jessica sooner rather than later?

The rough terrain tangled with his feet, pitching him forward. He reached out with an outstretched arm to steady himself, but the motion sent his head spinning. His arms flailed, his feet tripped over burrows and stones, all semblance of coordination lost.

With darkness and tall grass his only concealment, Wyatt tried to hunch down as he floundered, dripping a trail of blood behind him.

A sharp sting above his left knee dropped him to the ground. He quickly rolled onto his back, gun raised in shaky hands.

No one came, and he realized the night sky alight with flashing lights and the muffled sounds of sirens.

His arms fell to his sides, his lungs sucked in air and forced it out over and over again. But with oxygen came the return of his senses, and the two bleeding holes in his left side and knee were screaming.

And they didn't stop until oblivion took him.

to be continued