Wyatt was screaming for doctors before the Lifeboat door was even open. A barrage of questions assailed him but he ignored them all, barrelling his way to the infirmary and refusing to leave Lucy's side until the doctors kicked him out, claiming he was in the way and putting her at risk.

The next several hours were pure, unadulterated hell. What the hell could possibly be taking so long? Lucy had been poisoned. Didn't they just need to pump her stomach or something for Christ's sake? The soldier spent the entire time pacing before the infirmary door, hands in his hair, or the back of his neck, or in fists at his side, guilt wracking him and stripping him raw. They'd been arguing. He'd been spiking her adrenaline, making her blood pump, making the poison flow faster and faster. If she died… It would be his fault. He was sure of it. If he'd only just chosen to shut up, to listen, to simply throw her over his shoulder and get them home faster... But he hadn't. He'd gone with the flow, like he had when Jessica had arrived. He was so sick of letting things happen, turning a blind eye and waiting for the 'right moment' to say and do what he needed to do. He was done with it all. He made a choice, right then, to take back control of his life and his relationships. He made a choice that no matter what happened he would be there for Lucy. No matter what.

Rufus brought a chair over from the kitchen table and was sitting beside the door, knees shaking nervously up and down. Flynn claimed another chair and sat against the wall facing the door, arms crossed and still as stone, glaring at the door like he could affect the actions within with his mind. Denise had thrown herself into the paperwork and reports necessary of life-threatening incidents. Jiya alternated between comforting Rufus, and by extension herself, and trying to keep Mason calm as he wandered frenetically throughout the bunker, wishing he knew less about mechanics and more about medicine.

Everybody was standing at attention the second the medical doors opened. The doctor's face was grave. Wyatt felt his heart drop to his feet.

"She'll live," the doctor hedged. "But…"

Lucy felt like she was floating. But not in the nice, surfing a cloud in dreamland kind of way. It was like she was underwater. Deep underwater, where the pressure squeezed you from all sides and you felt like you couldn't move. Like she was in the car again, under the river, unable to escape… She woke gasping weakly for air.

She was alive?

"Lucy!"

Her head lolled towards the familiar voice but she couldn't open her eyes. They were too heavy, stuck to her eyelids, the world beyond too bright.

"Lucy, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe."

She tried again, opening her eyes to bare slits.

Wyatt.

Hovering over her, holding her hand, tears in his eyes. She tried to speak. And failed.

"Here," he moved quickly to place a few ice chips between her dry, cracked lips.

"You don't have to speak," he assured her gently. "Just rest, okay?"

She tried to nod. Unsure if she succeeded or not, she drifted back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~
She was still floating when she woke next, but the hinge of her jaw had come loose.

"Wyatt," she croaked.

He was still there. He brought her water again, this time in a small plastic cup with a straw. She sucked feebly at the lukewarm water as she realized he had a beard. Not like the future Wyatt had had, but still. It was there. She frowned.

"How long…"

He swallowed thickly. "Um… three weeks."

She sucked in a ragged breath.

"And you'll be in here for… well, a while longer."

She wanted to ask what that meant but was already so tired from the short discourse. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand and urged her to sleep.

The third time she woke up she was aware enough to feel the pain.

Everywhere.

Every fibre of her being ached. It was like her insides had been flayed, torn open and washed with acid.

She tried to move, alleviate some of it, anywhere, but gasped as a distinct, sharp pain lanced through her. She tried to clutch at her side but her arm was so heavy…

"No." Hands gently cupped her own hand between them. "You can't… don't touch it."

"What...?"

She was finally able to focus on his face. The dark bags under his eyes. The pale skin under the unkempt beard. He hastily offered her the usual cup of water. She licked her lips slowly after a long draw.

"What happened?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbed at his eyes. She saw they were red, and watery.

"You, uh…" his voice was thin, and wavered. "It was bad. You flatlined a few times, at the beginning."

She found she was holding her breath as he talked.

"The doctors pulled you back, obviously, but, uh… There was a lot of damage. Everywhere. They uh... they had to remove your spleen. Almost took a kidney too." He didn't even try to hold back his tears now. She was to weak to hold back her own.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing the hand he still held. "I'm so sorry, Lucy."

"No, Wyatt, you-"

"They don't know if you'll ever fully recover."

Her mouth snapped shut.

"So many systems, organ functions, were so damaged… and the Doctor said the spleen is the thing that's supposed to fight infections and stuff, but now it can't, and everything is weak and more susceptible to infections than ever!" he suddenly stood, dropping her hand to the bed as he started pacing. "If I'd just gotten you home sooner, just stopped fucking yelling at you and gotten you home, the docs could have done more, maybe, or not had to remove your spleen, and I know this is all my fault and I'm just so, so sorry."

He looked at her and crumpled back down in his chair, burying his face in his hands. She was sobbing, in pain and terrified, and he'd let himself freak out, let his own stupid guilt override everything else, as always, and completely overwhelmed her. He really sucked at being there for her.

But he wouldn't give up. He'd keep trying until he got it right.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking her hand up once more. "Go back to sleep, Lucy. Rest. Get better. Fuck what the doctors say. You will get better. Fully. Good as new." He reached out to gently wipe some strands of hair off her face. The soft, warm touch lulled her to sleep.

"…and as Mr. Logan informed you, a splenectomy was necessary. The operation was a success, and thus far there are no signs of infection."

Lucy had lost count of how many times she'd woken up now, or how much time had passed. The memories all blurred together in a hazy mass of pain, confusion, fear, and what she assumed was a heavy cocktail of drugs. Movement was so painful, her joints so stiff, she was essentially paralyzed. She'd apparently finally been deemed aware enough to have The Talk with her doctor though. She'd rather just go back to sleep.

"…and so far your responses have been good, so we're hopeful that no long-term brain damage has occurred, though we'll have to schedule several scans over the next few days-"

"Wait," she interrupted him. "Brain damage?"

The doctor hesitated, glancing at Wyatt, in his usual chair.

"I guess Mr. Logan didn't quite give you all the details."

She looked at the soldier. His jaw clenched, and he refused to look at her.

The doctor cleared his throat. "The toxin you ingested was unique, I dare say custom-made. I've never seen anything like it. Most poisons target a specific system or function, but this was broad-spectrum. It attacked everything, without discrimination, and it was fast. With the damage to your other organs, there was a strong possibility that neurological damage would also be present and possibly severe."

The professor looked at Wyatt again. His jaw was quivering.

Three weeks, he'd said. Three weeks before she'd first woken up. He'd spent three weeks wondering if she'd wake up and not even be her anymore. She couldn't imagine going through that. The doctor kept droning on but she didn't hear a word he said. She could barely stay awake for an hour, wasn't yet capable of even contemplating her future. She could only think one thing.

She should've just died.

Her room was under round the clock surveillance. Christopher was doing all she could to make sure Rittenhouse believe they'd succeeded in killing Lucy, but no chances could be taken. Most of the team wanted Lucy out of the hospital but they also knew her recovery couldn't be rushed. Someone was always with her, Wyatt only agreeing to leave her side once she could stay conscious for the length of a full movie. She assumed he'd had to leave at least a few times while she was sleeping; his hygiene rather lacking but not weeks-without-a-shower bad. For every waking moment thus far, though, he'd been there.

It was driving her crazy.

Why was he even there? Was it guilt? He'd said it himself, if she'd died, he'd have blamed himself. He blamed himself anyways for the state she was in, claiming she'd have been better if they'd gotten home sooner. But who could really know that? No one.

Not that she'd ever convince him of that, though. The man loved his guilt too much. She sighed and closed her eyes, relishing the peace and quiet, though battling with the thoughts it allowed her to ponder.

Love.

The last few minutes of their argument in '78 was hazy, but she remembered that. His final, pleading declaration of love. Once again, only spoken in a time of crisis. Did he actually mean it? Either time? Or was it the guilt pouring out, convincing him he felt more than he did. Could he only love her in life or death situations? Heart racing with adrenaline, blood thumping through his veins? Could he love her in the day-to-day, the boring, the normal? Whatever normal was for them anymore. She didn't know. She was too tired to think about it for too long.

She was tired all the damn time.

She hurt all the damn time. With every breath. Apparently her lungs had been so weak she'd been on a respirator for the first two weeks in hospital. She still felt like there was a weight on her chest, only able to take short, small breaths. She was too weak to hold the plastic cup of water. Too weak too pick up the TV remote. Too weak to sit up on her own. Every movement hurt, muscles shriveled, and joints inflamed. They said she was a medical miracle for surviving. She didn't feel like a miracle.

How long would it last?

How much stronger would she ever get?

What would her life be after she was finally released? She certainly wouldn't be ready to resume missions anytime soon.

If ever.

When would everyone finally get sick of looking after her? When would they realize she was too much of a burden? What would her life be, and would anyone stick around long enough to still be in it?

Lucy had been in the hospital for three months when Wyatt finally broke. She was growing stronger, though at a snail's pace. The physical therapy was brutal, but she was ready to be released so long as she had 24-hour care. She still needed help getting in and out of bed, up and off chairs and couches, opening doors… so many little things she'd always taken for granted. Homeland security had rented an apartment close to the bunker which she would share.

With Wyatt. Of course. He'd refused to let it be anyone else.

They were waiting for her final paperwork to go through, in the middle of watching a movie when he suddenly expelled a loud breath and roughly grabbed the remote to pause the film.

"Lucy."

She tensed at his tone. Whatever he was about to say, she doubted she was ready to hear.

"You don't have to say anything, but I have to get this out. I'm sorry."

He rarely did anything but apologize these days. At least when the others visited, they said at least a few other words.

"I'm sorry, I know you probably don't want to relive what happened, but a lot of things were said between us, and I just have to say…" he took a deep breath. "It may have been in the heat of the moment, yes, but every word was true, and I'm not taking any of it back. Any of it."

She sucked in a short breath.

"I love you. I shouldn't have waited so long to say it. I shouldn't have waited to start fixing things. I should have seen how badly you were hurting and done something about it before you got to the point of… of being willing to die. Especially for my sake. I meant everything I said, and still believe that most of what you said was bullshit."

She winced.

"You are not useless, you are not a liability, we are not safer without you. Who cares if you get a few historical facts wrong now and then or forget a few things. The timelines are all screwed up, as you said. And all that aside, you are so much more than just a walking encyclopedia. You are the glue that keeps us all together. We all love you. You are the most incredible, strong, stubborn, selfless, purely good person I've ever known. All the shit we've been through, you never gave up. You just kept barrelling forwards and pulling us all with you. No matter the sacrifice to yourself, you always put others' happiness first. I mean, Christ, you literally sacrificed yourself. For me, of all people. You're not a failure, Lucy. You're closer to a Saint."

Helpless tears were running down her cheeks as she shook her head.

"Yes, Lucy. You are. You're the most beautiful, wonderful person in the world, and I love you. I don't care how weak or strong you get to be. I'm going to be here for you, every step of the way. I'm going to fix us like I should have a long time ago."

"What about Jessica?" she croaked.

His face twisted and he looked away.

"Wyatt," she spoke in a low voice. "What aren't you telling me."

He looked at her guiltily. "Umm… she's not a problem anymore."

Lucy gasped. "Did you... did you go on a mission? When? What-"

"Woah, woah, slow down." He put a reassuring hand to her shoulder. "Jiya, Flynn, Rufus, and Mason did."

"Seriously?"

"Well, I wouldn't leave your side, so…"

"And what the hell happened?"

His eyes went dark, his brow furrowing. "Like I said, Jessica's not a problem anymore."

"But Wyatt," her eyes were wide, mouth opening in shock. "The baby…"

He shook his head roughly, swiping at an eye. "There is no baby. There never was."

She stared at him. "What?"

"There was never any baby. You were right. Again. It was all just a ploy to fuck with my head. Don't get to be that dad you tried to save after all."

"Oh, Wyatt…" she raised a hand to his cheek. He sniffed, eyes squeezing shut as he turned into her embrace. She gently guided him towards her, laying his head on her shoulder. He carefully placed an arm across her body, burrowing into her shoulder as his body shook. She could feel her gown grow wet beneath his face.

She cried with him, her mind suddenly made.

He'd said a lot, and while she was still barely ready to think about a future past her next physical therapy session, never mind a future with him, she was ready to start trying. She was making the choice to try to be ready. Try to believe him, trust him, again. Try to be this amazing person he thought she was instead of the pathetic, bitter, depressed thing she'd become.

As she softly stroked through his hair, a vision of him seeped into her senses. He was in a backyard, beautiful green grass everywhere, holding a tiny human being with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

A forbidden feeling bloomed within her chest, her lungs expanding, the first full breath she'd had in months.

Hope.

The End.

I so wanted to name this fic The Goblet of Fire, buuuuut… for obvious reasons I didn't think that would be wise, lol.

The dream inspiration I had was actually only of a tiny part of this. There was this whole bizarre immersive video game thing I was playing/living, and Lucy was a character. Of course. At some point, I can't remember why, she was poisoned. I can't remember who she was with, either, but I could see her and someone else descending a ladder. Lucy was weak, and in incredible pain, but was trying so hard to get down the ladder, to not let her people down, to save them all. She threw her head back, screaming with effort and pain, and ending up falling, taking out the person below her as well.

The image of her head thrown back, face so pale it was white, screaming in pain, stuck with me. (Lovely dream, I know, haha. It wasn't actually all that bad, just that part) I briefly tried to think of scenarios with our Time Team climbing down a ladder and Lucy screaming and falling, but for some reason, this fic came out instead. And got real angsty. Holy cow.

On a much more personal note, I myself had an unexpected and inexplicable health event when I was 20 that left me essentially paralyzed for a while, like Lucy in this fic. Every joint in my body swelled up, then froze in place. Even trying to uncrook my messed up fingers caused incapacitating pain. I couldn't grip anything so thus couldn't open a door, hold a glass, cut my food, dress myself, get out of bed by myself... And all the while my own immune system was also attacking all my organs and systemic functions. Needless to say, it suuuuucked. However, with good doctors and specialists, the right medications, and solid family/friend support, I eventually got it into remission and basically fully recovered. I'm even going for my second degree black belt soon! All to say... don't worry for Lucy. I think she'll do just fine! Especially with Wyatt by her side 😊

PLEASE let me know what you thought, good, bad, or ugly.

Cheers,
MajorSam