Hello readers old and new! I still exist!

Because I know at least a couple people were wondering if I did, in fact, still exist (at least in the fic-writing sense of the word), here's a teeny explanation for my absence before we hit the good (I hope) stuff, aka the story.

Two things kept me away from fic-world for the past three months:

1. Yet ANOTHER new job. Sigh. Moving is a bitch. So is starting a new job. But the good thing about this one? It's permanent! No more moving, kiddos. Plus, I'll put it this way – know how Lucy's life got turned upside down when she went from being a regular old professor to her new job of time-traveling world-saver? Well, I'm not exactly saving the world, but I was a professor before this, and what my new job is to my field is pretty close to being what being a time traveler is to a historian. (I'm still waiting for my Wyatt-equivalent to show up, however…)

2. Spoilers. In early season 2, I kept getting spoiled by unlabeled spoilers and I did not want to be, so I bailed. Please, for this and any other show you're a fan of, please please please respect the wishes of those of us who want to remain spoiler-free. Don't leave spoiler fics unmarked as such. Don't include spoilers in story descriptions for anyone to see on fic listings. Don't leave spoilers in reviews for non-spoiler fics/authors. Please.

Anyway, I'm back. And hopefully the show will be too (#RenewTimeless). I did scribble a few things during the season even when I was avoiding fic sites, so I do have some more stuff to post as we wait for news of season 3.

Also, I know some of you lovely readers left comments/reviews during my exile. I do plan to read them and reply to thank you, just like always. Until I do, here's a blanket thank you for any feedback that has been left in the past 3 months.

To all who have been writing during my exile, I plan to catch up on reading eventually, I promise!

Thanks a bazillion to qwertygal for the beta.

Finally, a pre-emptive disclaimer – because I haven't read any fic since roughly March 14th, any similarity between this and any other posted fic is purely coincidence.

And with that…

Reassurance

Lucy gets some advice from an unlikely source. Post S2 finale.

Seeing Rufus again… Well, it had been a lot. To deal with, that is. And also a lot of feelings. Lots of feelings.

But thankfully, at its core, the time jump to rescue him had still been so much like a regular mission, had still been hectic and crazy and dodging hails of bullets from Emma and her ilk.

As much as Lucy isn't a fan of such things, she's more than willing to acknowledge that at least they serve to be amazing distractions from everything else going on inside your own head.

Like your friend's death in the first place, never mind that you just got him back and can at least breathe a bit of a sigh of relief.

Like your mother's death. And the fact that the woman that you watched die in front of you was saying things that didn't sound like your mother at all, and, quite frankly, the fact that she could barely be considered your real mother at that point. And that you feel terrible about it, but you think that maybe it's better this way.

Like your… ex-boyfriend? Of one night? Could he really even be considered that? …getting his long-dead wife back and pretty much jumping from your bed to hers, and getting her pregnant? Maybe? All while you have to sit there and pretend to be happy for him while the loss is secretly killing you. Only to find out that it was all a cover and that she's just as much not his wife as your mother wasn't your mother.

And, of course, like the out-of-the-blue confession by said ex, upon death of said friend and disappearance of said (not-)wife and possible future offspring, that he loves you. You. What?

All of that right there rightfully should have broken Lucy's brain already.

Of course, why wouldn't all of that get topped off by the sudden appearance of some post-apocalyptic future version of yourself (not to mention the future version of said in-love-with-you-sort-of-ex), defying the already-mind-bending logic of time travel you've been taught, that you're still trying to fully grasp over a year later?

Definitely a lot.

So yeah, suffice it to say that, looking out over the ad-hoc Rufus reunion taking place in front of her now that they, with the help of their future selves, have brought him back, Lucy's feeling way too much. She finally has a fleeting second to just slow down and breathe, but everything is just too overwhelming and she just can't handle it. So she leaves Rufus, Jiya, Flynn, Agent Christopher, Connor, Wyatt, and the other Wyatt, and her older self there in the lifeboat (…lifeboats?) bay and slips away to her room.

And she even almost makes it the whole way before the inevitable tears spring forth, spilling over and down her cheeks. At least the hiccupping sobs don't make an appearance until she's in the room.

She's not even sure why she does it – it's not as if she expects Jiya to come in or be anywhere but glued to Rufus' side – but in that moment, it makes all the sense in the world to pretty much hide away as best she can, so she sinks to the floor in the far corner at the end of her bed.

Head in hands, she just cries.

Rufus is fine. And, honestly, considering that her mother would have been dead from the cancer by now anyway, it's better this way, to not be actively fighting her and her stupid, insane organization.

But Wyatt? Lucy was, and still is, utterly flabbergasted, flummoxed, bewildered, and all those other words that land somewhere in the vicinity of dumbfounded by his confession. She's also pretty sure that her heart hasn't stopped pounding since those three little but oh-so-weighty words got blurted out.

She really can't believe he'd said it – not that she really believes he could possibly actually feel it either. It's everything she'd wanted to hear since back in LA, and before that, honestly, but never thought that she would. And that was when it was just the two of them.

Since Jessica? The notion of that possibility actually being reality hadn't even crossed her mind. There was just no way – it had been too easy for him to slide back into his routines with his wife. Not that she could really begrudge him that, but it still hurt. And it had certainly extinguished any last flickers of naïve, delusional hope for them once he'd announced that they were starting a family.

Even now. He'd said it, but somewhere out there, Jessica is still alive, still pregnant if she wasn't lying, and who's to say Wyatt won't go back to her if he can get her to reform, or if he puts their child first before defeating Rittenhouse?

The tears escalate, streaking down her cheeks as her chest heaves and she struggles to catch her breath through the phlegmy congestion.

Lucy wants it. Wants him, and so badly, but not like this. There really isn't any going back from this past month or so, and certainly not if there's a baby involved. Even if there isn't a kid due in eight or so months, there's still Jessica out there somewhere, and there's just no way that whatever he thinks he feels for Lucy is enough to overcome that hold Jessica has over him. There's just no way.

She's sobbing so hard at that point, mourning the loss of something she never really had, that she doesn't even notice the sound of footsteps. Nor does she register the presence of another person until she feels the arm ease over her shoulder.

And though she herself doesn't say anything, it's still her own voice that puts the brakes on that previous train of thought, reassuring in a low, shaky whisper, "He loves you so much."

Lucy jerks her head up in disbelief to find herself face-to-face with her older self, complete with a few streaks of tears down her cheeks to mirror Lucy's own.

She's still not over the surreal feeling of literally staring at another version of herself; even already having had to work with her to get Rufus back, that odd sensation hadn't dissipated in the least since the second lifeboat had popped into existence. Beyond that, the working together with Wyatt and the future versions of themselves hadn't actually yielded much conversation or interaction at all aside from the bare minimum of information as it pertained to rescuing Rufus. Lucy's counterpart had been particularly tight-lipped, explaining, much the same as Lucy herself had discussed not that long ago with Jiya and Agent Christopher, that the burden of knowing the future wasn't something they felt comfortable saddling their younger selves with.

So why, then, Lucy puzzles, distressed and still in shock and staring in desperate confusion at this older Lucy, is she talking to her now? And how can she know her exact thoughts, how can she know to say those particular words right now?

Lucy's still veritably gaping at herself when her older self continues, gentle but insistent, "You have to let yourself believe that."

It sounds so simple. And she knows herself well enough to recognize that her elder self is being sincere. But, to Lucy, the notion of letting herself think it's true just feels so, so impossible.

It's too much all over again and a fresh round of sobs wracks her body.

Weird as it is, she doesn't shy away when her older self pulls her into her arms, cradling Lucy against her chest as she cries even harder.

Lucy has no idea how long they actually sit there like that. But all that sobbing and the emotions that go along with it aren't sustainable, so tears eventually slow, leaving her mostly numb, though with a side of sheepish embarrassment at letting the older version of herself see just how much of a pathetic, love-sick mess she is. Pulling back from the older Lucy's embrace, Lucy sniffles as she darts her gaze away, trying to save face with a mumbled, "Sorry. It's not just-"

"I know," older Lucy cuts her off gently. "It's Mom. It's Rufus. It's everything. But Rufus is back. Mom…" She pauses, sighing softly as she pushes a stray strand of her messy, chin-length locks behind her ear. "I was ready for the end before all of this," she admits in a low, hushed tone, sneaking a sidelong glance at Lucy as she stares down to where her hands had come to rest in her lap. "…when she was sick. And then she was back, and then she was Rittenhouse, and… it was almost ok," she shrugs, "that she died like that. That at least her being part of it is over." She looks up, meeting Lucy's gaze head on as she continues, "And I know you feel guilty about thinking that right now, but it's true. It's better. For you. Now."

Lucy's still trying to wrap her mind around just how well her older self is essentially dictating her every emotion when the slightly ominous 'now' registers. What does that mean? Rufus has been rescued from death… Could her future self possibly mean that her – their? – mother ends up the same way? She furrows her brow, studying her older self's face, searching and wordlessly begging for an elaboration.

But apparently this older version of herself really does know that, heartless as it sounds, their mother really is just a blip on the emotional radar in this particular moment. Because she ignores Lucy's silent plea for more information on that front and eyes Lucy with a sigh. "And that leaves Wyatt," she states frankly. "And I know it's…" Lucy's actually surprised when, after being so blunt about bringing up Wyatt, the older Lucy chokes up almost immediately, barely croaking out the rest of her words in a strained voice. "…awful. I know what you feel right now. I had no idea what to feel or think or believe and you want to hate him for everything, and for saying it now, and I-"

Lucy hadn't even registered the tears streaming anew down her own cheeks until the elder Lucy pauses mid-sentence to reach out and brush the streaks from her face.

"You have to trust him," she maintains to Lucy.

"I do," Lucy protests reflexively. And it's true; she does. With her life.

Her older self just shoots her a wan smile and shakes her head. "Not about this," she counters. "Never did. I- " The elder Lucy's voice catches in her throat; Lucy can't tell if it's emotion or something she decided not to say, but she speaks again. "Even that first night. In LA. Didn't even seem real, right?" she poses, eyeing Lucy with a wry, knowing smirk.

Lucy wants to be able to refute that assertion, and even opens her mouth to do so, but she stops herself as her eyes tear up again. It's not as if she can lie to someone who's literally herself, who has apparently already lived all these same moments and feelings. It hadn't seemed real, getting to be with Wyatt that night. Like a dream that she eventually would have woken up from. It still doesn't seem real, honestly, that she'd ever been with him at all, considering it against the sum of all the not being with him. So really, all Lucy can do is brush away an escaped tear and agree, with a sad head shake, "No."

"It is," reiterates her older self. "He's… still figuring himself out, but he does love you," she insists.

"…he picked her." Lucy blurts out after a beat, then bites her lip. "And I can't even blame him," she continues quietly, "I told him to."

"Still hurt like hell," older Lucy points out bluntly.

Still does, Lucy adds silently in her head. Because… "She's still alive," she points out shakily. "He could still try to change her mind or-" She sniffles, acknowledging to herself the biggest obstacle to them ever even considering being together. "And if there's a baby-" It's only as the b-word falls from her lips that she realizes that her future counterpart must know exactly how Jessica's supposed pregnancy plays out. She darts her gaze over to the older Lucy, demanding with urgency, "Is there? Do they have-"

She finds herself in the odd position of being sharply cut off by herself when the elder version of herself sets her jaw and says firmly, "Doesn't matter."

Turns out that broken hearts can still break further, because that lack of a denial sounds too much like a confirmation to Lucy and the pain is so visceral it almost takes her breath away. "They do?" she whispers.

"I didn't say that," older Lucy disputes immediately. "But nothing about that matters. He is so in love with you."

Lucy protests, needing to know. "But if they-"

"You know I shouldn't say anything else," her elder self cuts in. She shakes her head with a weak shrug. "I already…" She trails off, looking away sadly.

Trying with all her might to not picture the bearded Wyatt of the future chasing after a little blonde pre-schooler with Jessica, Lucy forces herself to focus on the surreal nature of the whole conversation in the first place. "Why did you?" she inquires. "Tell me anything? You said-"

"And you've said," older Lucy reminds her. "It's a burden to know. But five years ago," she admits with a soft, sad sigh and a sniffle, "I was sitting a foot and a half left of where I am now… and I needed to hear this."

What to say in response to that sad admission, Lucy has no idea. This future version of herself has been so confident and unflappable through the whole ordeal of getting Rufus back, it's actually been hard to even see herself in her sometimes. It's strange to see her shaken like this now, and to hear her admit that she really was in the same emotional position once upon a time that Lucy is in right now.

Before Lucy can figure out what she could possibly say, the elder Lucy continues, "This?" she shrugs, gesturing vaguely to the two of them sitting there. "It's less of a burden to know. If you just let yourself trust him. He loves you. Don't ever doubt that," she implores, her eyes red and shiny as her gaze bores into Lucy.

Lucy regards her skeptically, her eyes welling up again. All she does is doubt that, and she really doesn't know how to get past it.

"You are both hurting so much right now," the older Lucy emphasizes. "I'm not saying you should just put everything behind you right away. You shouldn't even if you could. You can't. I couldn't. I didn't," she concedes, as a tear streaks down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly before adding, "But you both need someone. Don't make it worse on both of you. Trust that he loves you," she insists again, "and has for a long time already."

And now her older self looks so rattled and emotional and pleading that Lucy's really unnerved. She's pushing so hard to trust Wyatt's declaration of love that it sounds more like a cautionary tale than a mere suggestion. Concerned about possible implications of that, she ventures carefully, "…did you not? Trust it?"

It's even more unnerving when the elder Lucy just averts her gaze and brushes away another stray tear.

'But you're… you're together, right?" Lucy stammers, alarmed. "And it's fine?"

The future Wyatt and Lucy had been anything but overt – and maybe it was just subconscious wishful thinking on her own part – but they'd just been so in tune with each other, working together so seamlessly, that Lucy had just kind of assumed the two of them are a couple. And until this very moment, it has escaped her that their future selves being a couple means that, somehow, she and Wyatt do, against the odds, end up together. How she's sustained that disconnect the entire time they'd been working together to save Rufus, Lucy has no idea, but now, suddenly facing the prospect of their future selves not being together, she realizes that maybe for all her devastation and thinking that they were irrevocably broken, she still, somewhere deep down and hidden away, always expected to reconcile with Wyatt. Because, right now, seeing her older self like this and suddenly not being so sure that she's with Wyatt in the future? It's utterly devastating.

Lucy grips her future counterpart's hand, desperately seeking some sort of reassurance in her faraway expression.

"I- Just…" the elder Lucy eventually says, stumbling haltingly over her words before looking up at Lucy once more. "You don't need to make it harder than it has to be. I know where your feelings are," she reasons with a sniffle. "And have been, for a long time. That's not the issue. Believe him," she urges. "Trust him."

Rattled, Lucy can only offer a numb nod in response, her stomach in knots. She so desperately wants to be able to believe this other Lucy. So desperately wants to be able to believe Wyatt. She's just not sure that she can.

She doesn't get much more time to try to wrap her mind around what she's just been told; the older Lucy abruptly wipes off her cheeks and pulls herself to her feet. "I should go…" she says, explaining, "We probably shouldn't have hung around even this long, and I really probably shouldn't have said as much as I did."

Lucy jumps up as well, and, at least for a second, manages to push anxieties about Wyatt from her mind to express her gratitude for the initial impetus for the future pair's appearance. "Thank you," she says seriously. "For figuring out how to get Rufus back for us."

The elder Lucy gives half a grin then replies just as seriously, "Pay me - yourself - back with Wyatt."

Lucy takes a deep breath, sighs, and nods with a wan smile. If only it were that easy. She wants so badly to do right by this other Lucy, this other version of herself, but for all these reassurances, letting herself believe that the Wyatt she knows truly does love her seems almost impossible considering how incongruous that notion is when considered against the backdrop of him choosing Jessica.

But it's not as if she can admit that to this other Lucy, this older, wiser, version, maybe more hardened of herself. Even though this other person is literally herself, Lucy can't help but not want to disappoint her, as if she's, in a way, almost an older sister that she's trying to live up to. Except Lucy has never been the younger sister-

Amy.

She's been the older sister. To Amy.

The question is on the tip of Lucy's tongue, but she already knows that there won't be an answer. If her older self won't confirm anything about Wyatt, she's not going to say anything about Amy.

Which actually makes Lucy chuckle. That actually sounds about right for an older sister - not giving in to the pesky demands of the younger sibling. Except they're not siblings, they're literally each other, plucked out of different times to somehow work together.

And it's so weird, Lucy can't help but muse. She says as much to the other Lucy, murmuring, "…this is so weird."

Her counterpart lets out a soft snort of amusement. "No kidding. More for you, I guess," she points out, nodding at Lucy. "At least I already was you. For you…"

Lucy can't help but smile as her older self trails off. "I always wished I'd been the younger sister instead, especially when-"

"-Amy got away with things we got in trouble for," the elder Lucy finishes, smirking in return.

"Well," Lucy sighs, "now I have you. Not exactly the same, but…"

That earns her a sympathetic grin from her future self, who then nods toward the door of the bunker bedroom with a soft, "I should…"

Before her future counterpart can depart, Lucy impulsively pulls her in for a hug. It's weird, literally hugging yourself, she thinks, but in her gut, she knows that to have broken her own rule of sharing knowledge of the future, her older self had to have felt that this had been an important conversation. She's still not sure she believes what she's been told, but she's grateful to have heard it. "Thank you," she murmurs over the older Lucy's shoulder. "I-"

"Lucy, did you want any-" Wyatt's voice rings out from the hallway, and both Lucys whirl their heads in his direction just as he rounds the doorframe into the room. He looks momentarily stunned at the sight of the two of them, but recovers quickly enough to stammer out, "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

He makes a move to turn around and leave, but Lucy's older self backs away from their embrace and informs him, "Wyatt, no, it's ok. I was just heading out."

She strides toward the door, but shoots a knowing look of encouragement back over her shoulder at Lucy, then gives Wyatt a soft squeeze on the shoulder as she departs.

And then it's just Lucy. Regular old, 2018 Lucy.

And 2018 Wyatt.

Lucy doesn't really know what to do with that.

Thankfully, Wyatt's the first to speak, after he tears his somewhat perplexed-looking gaze from the direction the older Lucy has disappeared to. "Weird, right?" he quips stiltedly, clearly trying to sound casual and failing pretty miserably. "I was just talking to- myself? That sounds bizarre… and…"

He's saying something else, but Lucy really doesn't even register his words as she regards him, studying him carefully. Her heart swells when she realizes, for all the pain and heartache he's caused, she doesn't see him any differently than she ever has. She doesn't see him with Jessica when she looks at him, doesn't re-live the sickening punch to the gut that she felt when he'd unceremoniously announced that his wife was pregnant.

She just sees Wyatt.

Just Wyatt.

Wyatt.

The man who has saved her life more times than she cares to count. The man that, for all his macho, stoic, military bravado, proved himself just as fragile and fallible as the rest of them when he'd insisted on staying at the Alamo in a suicide mission. The man that held her, on her rickety bunker bed, so tightly in his arms when she'd cried for all that she'd lost. The man that can more than hold his own with her when it comes to those complex, philosophical discussions of fate and chance, and in four languages to boot. The man who turns, so adorably, into a ten year-old dork as soon as NASCAR or James Bond comes up in conversation. The man who couldn't help but try to comfort her post-mission even with his wife just down the hall. The man with whom, once all of this mess is over, she wants to curl up on the couch to watch a full day marathon of the Real Housewives.

The man she loves so much.

Which he, for better or for worse, deserves to know.

Lucy has no illusions that things will work out perfectly, and certainly not right away, if they ever do. Jessica is still out there somewhere, and may or may not be carrying his child.

But maybe, just maybe, where she'd normally be defaulting to her pessimistic, catastrophic thinking, not trusting that he could ever really want to be with her, that he could love her – Lucy Preston – enough… Maybe she does need to trust herself. Or her other self. And trust Wyatt. She loves him, after all.

She wants so badly to be able to believe that it can work, that they can come through this together.

He's still talking when she takes a deep breath and slowly inches closer. She's about halfway there when he trails off, clearly confused by her silent approach.

But she keeps going, closing the distance between them – the physical one, at least – and unceremoniously wraps herself around his torso, hugging him to her as she presses her face to his chest and just breathes him in.

She can tell he's a little startled, and probably more than confused, but after a beat, she feels him tentatively return the hug, gingerly easing his arms around her shoulders.

Lucy takes another deep breath and holds him tighter as all the emotions of weeks past threaten tears once again.

It's a few beats before he's anything but tentative, but she swears she feels him relax into the hug. And she knows it's such a cliché, but, though a few more tears do slip out, somehow all those problems fade away and lessen now that she's back in his arms.

For everything that's gone wrong, being in his embrace feels so right. In that moment, Lucy really does begin to believe that they can fix things. It may be messy, and difficult, but somehow the two of them, together, will be able to lessen the sting of the past few weeks and work their way back to what they'd only just started to build together.

She wants it.

"I love you," Lucy says, quiet but fervent, with her face pressed to Wyatt's shoulder as she finally replies to his raw, heartfelt admission. Because if there's one thing she can trust, it's that she most certainly loves him.

He tenses as soon as she says it, no reaction at first other than that stiffening of his frame against her and a sharp intake of breath that she'd have missed were she not wrapped around him.

But as she clings to him, she feels him tighten his arms around her, hugging her closer. She's not sure, but she may even hear a hint of a sniffle from him.

Lucy squeezes her eyes shut and presses her cheek to Wyatt's chest.

She really hopes that her future self is right.

~FIN~

Oof. Turns out it's even harder to stay in character when there are two of the same character. Here's hoping I succeeded even a little. Thanks for reading :)