When Lucy blinked her eyes open the next morning, she found that not only had she apparently slept in, but Wyatt was also no longer lying beside her.

Bright rays of sunshine were already pouring through the rustic windows of the cabin, indicating the lateness of the hour, as she eased herself up to a sitting position. Stretching, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she tried to ward off the mounting feeling of disappointment that came with the realization that Wyatt had probably escaped back to the loft the moment she had fallen asleep. Reminding herself that that was how it absolutely should be and there was no reason, therefore, to feel hurt or upset by his absence, Lucy threw off the covers and quietly made her way over to the far corner to change only to find, to her utmost astonishment, a platter full of eggs and what was left of their ham sitting in the alcove above the fireplace…which was roaring with new life. "How…" she had just muttered in confusion when Wyatt quietly eased the front door open, holding a plate that was heaping with toast.

"Oh…you're up." he startled, "I uh…hope I didn't wake you…I thought maybe if I just cooked the breakfast outside…"

"You made breakfast?" Lucy asked blankly.

Confused slightly by her question, Wyatt nodded slowly, "Yeah…is that a problem?"

Gaping at him in awe for several moments before shaking her head in the negative, Lucy stammered, "No…it's…I just…why?"

Wyatt looked back at her like he was almost offended by her question. "You were still asleep." he stated plainly, "And I figured since I was already up…"

"But you cooked it outside?" Lucy asked, hardly believing that he had gone through so much trouble. "Why didn't you just…"

"I thought you could use the extra sleep." Wyatt replied with a shrug, interrupting her. Letting out a derisive chuckle as he added in explanation, "You didn't even flinch when I rolled you off of me this morning."

Flushing from both the realization that she had been practically on top of Wyatt and that he had apparently stayed with her through the night after all, Lucy quickly turned towards the corner to hide her embarrassment and grabbed her shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders as if a few woolen threads would protect her against the tender feelings currently attempting to bury themselves somewhere in the confines of her heart…right where they did not belong.

"You hungry?" Wyatt asked when she didn't immediately turn around, "If not, I can keep it up here and we can have it for lunch or something…"

The allusion to spending the day with Wyatt…having lunch with Wyatt…threw Lucy for so much of a loop that she almost forgot what it was she was actually supposed to be doing that day. That is until it came tumbling out of her mouth like some strange reflex, "Laundry." she gasped out in horror, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"Huh?"

"I was supposed to be helping Mrs. Poe with the rest of the laundry this morning." Lucy groaned as she held her head in her hands. "Ugh…dammit. Now she's probably going to spend the rest of the day lecturing me about the virtues of early rising."

"Lucy, it's okay…" Wyatt began, but Lucy cut him off.

"No, it's not okay." she moaned as she bent over her footlocker to retrieve her dress, "You've never had to suffer through one of her lectures…I have." Scoffing as she flung a fresh petticoat over her shoulder she added, "I swear she's worse than my mother…"

"Lucy, it's okay." Wyatt assured again, this time a bit more meaningfully, "I told Rufus when he came by to drop off some of his tools earlier to tell Mrs. Poe you weren't feeling well this morning and you'd be around to help out later." Stunned once more by Wyatt's thoughtfulness, Lucy gaped at him with a mixture of confusion and awe…something that seemed to highly amuse him. Chuckling, he pulled out her stool by the table and motioned for her to sit, "So…breakfast?"

Eyeing him warily, Lucy slowly took her seat as Wyatt retrieved the platter of eggs from the alcove and began dishing them out between the two plates he had set out on the table. He was far more calm and collected than he had been the previous evening…and though Lucy couldn't quite grasp how or why Wyatt seemed so bound and determined to stand by his offer of "taking care of her" – she wasn't about to complain. It was nice being able to sleep in for a change, have someone else prepare the meals…and most importantly, have someone subdue Mrs. Poe's anger and frustration so that she wouldn't have to deal with it later.

Still, however, she imagined this was just him trying to get back on her good side and figured that once he knew he had been fairly forgiven, things would go back to the way they were between them.

She asked about his plans for the day, which she discovered, consisted of completely overhauling their garden in the backyard, cleaning the chicken coop and helping Rufus as he could, whenever their friend returned with whatever contraption he had dreamed up to improve on his rudimentary washing machine. With such a full day ahead of him, Lucy was again struck with how much he had already done that morning in an attempt to play his role as her "husband" a little more dutifully. Having prepared this breakfast outside would have required him to do far more in the way of preparation than if he had just cooked the eggs over their own, already burning, fire. Unable to resist acknowledging this fact, Lucy cleared her throat and muttered softly, "I can't believe…really, Wyatt – you didn't have to do all of this. You have such a big day ahead of you and…"

"And so do you." Wyatt dismissed with a shrug, "It's really not that big of a deal, Lucy. I can cook breakfast just as easily as you can. You don't have to do all the cooking, you know." he added with a smirk before offering further, "They may consider it your job or whatever…but I don't give a damn about what they think."

Lucy couldn't help but smile at that pronouncement, though once again, she pulled her shawl protectively around her shoulders, trying to ward off the sentiments that were again, tugging at her heartstrings.

"Well, dig in." Wyatt encouraged as he sat down and began buttering a piece of toast.

Lucy followed his example, picking up a slice of toasted bread and was about to butter it when she narrowed her eyes in confusion, "How on Earth did you manage to make toast?"

Shrugging as he took a bite of his eggs, Wyatt replied, "You just sit it on the hot pan and flip it over," casting an amused glance towards her, he added, "Haven't you ever made grilled cheese?" When Lucy didn't say anything, Wyatt gaped at her, "Are you serious? You've never made grilled cheese?"

Coloring, Lucy bristled defensively, "Amy did most of the cooking, okay? I…I was always…busy."

"Were you really busy…or did you just get banned from the kitchen after one too many grease fires?" Wyatt teased, chuckling as he took a bite of his toast.

"Maybe a little of both." Lucy admitted with a mumble, before going on the defensive again, "It's not like I didn't try to cook…but Amy was always so much better at that stuff. She could whip up a batch of cookies like, that." she said with a snap of her fingers, "Me? I could barely boil water."

"Oh come on, Lucy." Wyatt dismissed with a scoff, "You…"

"I'm not kidding." Lucy interrupted, "I actually forgot about water boiling on the stove…ruined my mother's brand-new stainless-steel pot." She groaned at the memory, "I thought she was going to kill me…

Wyatt stifled the urge to laugh at her as she sat across from him toying with her breakfast, looking more than a little embarrassed by her lack of culinary skills. "Look," he offered in an attempt to cheer her up, "so you couldn't cook before, now you're baking bread, making porridge…"

"Yeah," Lucy replied flatly, still toying with her eggs, "but it's nothing like what you did last night…or even this." she motioned with her fork, "I mean, you've seen my eggs." Again, Wyatt had to stifle the urge to laugh at her, knowing all too well that Lucy's eggs looked like and were about as edible as a hockey puck. "I just…I'm not cut out for this." she muttered, "you're so much better at this than I am…and this is supposed to be my job."

"Lucy," Wyatt groaned, "I didn't do all this to make you feel bad…"

"I know." Lucy dismissed, offering him an apologetic frown, "I know…I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. I mean, you cook, you sew…how is that you make a better housewife than I do?"

"Well, I learned a lot of this stuff growing up." Wyatt offered, "not because I wanted to…but because I had to." He colored slightly as he explained, "When you don't have much…you have to take care of the things you do have. Sewing on buttons or fixing holes in my clothes was just a necessity."

Wyatt was never one to share much about his past – though Lucy knew from the things he had divulged that he was poor, he didn't get along with his father and his Grandpa Sherwin was more or less his hero. Grateful that he abandoned some of his reserve in an attempt to make her feel better, Lucy offered him an encouraging nod, "Well, it certainly prepared you for this, didn't it? I guess you learned to cook pretty early than too, huh?"

"Yeah." Wyatt replied with a frown, "Apart from camping with my grandpa…I didn't do a whole lot of cooking as a kid. When I really learned to cook was when I joined the military…somedays it was just better to avoid the chow hall, you know what I mean?"

Lucy didn't know what he meant, but she nodded anyway.

"And then when Jess and I got married," he continued, looking somewhat wistful, "I don't know…I just…she was always working at the bar, serving up drinks and grub all day, the last thing she wanted to do when she got home was do more of that, you know? So, I just did most of the cooking."

"Bet she appreciated that." Lucy muttered with a sad smile, suddenly realizing that Wyatt probably hadn't cooked for another woman since his wife had died.

"Yeah." Wyatt replied with a terse nod, as if he too were realizing that. Noting this…and kicking herself for bringing it up, Lucy immediately turned her attention back to her breakfast, feeling that the sooner she ate, the sooner she could escape the awkward silence that had settled between them.

She was halfway through her eggs when Wyatt broke that awkward silence, muttering softly, "I um…could…you know, teach you…if you want."

"To…to cook?" she asked in surprise and confusion, not quite positive that she had heard him correctly. "You…you want to teach me how to cook?"

"If you want." Wyatt offered again with a slight shrug, "I mean, I know Mrs. Poe taught you a few things, but I …I don't mind teaching you a couple things…that way, you know, you don't feel bad when…"

"When you completely blow me away with a roasted rabbit or whatever that was last night?" she offered with a smile.

"Something like that, yeah." he replied, smirking. "I mean it, though." he continued with a serious nod, "If you want to learn cook, I can help you."

Considering him, Lucy bit her lip thinking of all the times she had been shooed out of the kitchen by not just Amy, but also her mother. She might have been an exemplary student in the classroom, but in the kitchen, she was a menace – if she wasn't making a complete mess with the ingredients, she was setting off every fire alarm within a five-mile radius. Feeling like she had better give him fair warning, Lucy cleared her throat and asked, "Are you sure you want to do this? Making porridge is one thing…but something like rabbit?" shaking her head in doubt, she continued, "You're liable to wind up with food poisoning."

"I think I'll take my chances, ma'am." he replied, "Come on, Lucy…it's not that hard, I promise."

"But what about the…I mean, I don't think I can…" she grimaced and made a motion to her neck and Wyatt immediately understood what she was trying to say.

"I'll do the dirty work." he assured her with a good-natured eye roll, "It'll be just like cooking meat from the store," but at Lucy's sardonic glare, he amended, "okay, well if you knew how to cook meat from the store…seriously, Lucy," Wyatt encouraged, "if you can bake bread from scratch, you're going to be able to do this…it's no big deal. Really."

Not at all convinced, but grateful for Wyatt's apparent faith in her (non-existent) abilities, Lucy offered him an appreciative grin and a nod of her head as she tucked back into her breakfast, desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

After eating, Wyatt removed himself to the garden once more so that Lucy could change and while she was grateful for everything he had done for her in the past few hours, Lucy couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief once the door shut behind him. Every smile he offered her, every gesture, every comment he made about his plans to try to make life a little easier for them filled her with the one thing she was bound and determined to avoid…hope.

Just the idea of them being anything other than what they currently were - which, honestly, she wasn't quite sure what that even was anymore - was just setting her up for heartache…and she certainly wasn't a stranger to that. Maybe it was the fact that she had spent so much time worried about living up to her mother's expectations, she hadn't really had much time for relationships.

Or maybe she just wasn't the anybody's type.

In high school, she had nursed a crush on Michael Garrison for two years…and during her senior year she was absolutely sure he was going to ask her to the prom. He had spent so much time with her, had definitely flirted with her, had all but asked her if she had planned on going and if she had a date yet…and then, after so many whispered conversations with friends that had only increased her expectation for something…nothing. He had only used her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous…and by the time prom rolled around, it was she, not Lucy, who was sporting his corsage. She had been so mortified by the whole thing she skipped the prom altogether and went, instead, to a debate tournament.

Her social life was virtually non-existent in college, save for a few dates here and there. She was too busy researching, writing and studying to have much time for anything else…besides, she always felt so out of place at parties…Amy was always the more carefree and fun-loving…while Lucy was predictable and dependable…never a risk taker, never one to do anything spontaneous.

Until, of course, Homeland Security came knocking on her door.

Still, even after college – with teaching, her mother's cancer diagnosis, and desperately trying to get tenure…she hadn't really ventured into the dating pool. Or at least, this version of her hadn't. Obviously, since she was engaged to Noah, some version of her had to have put more stock into relationships and socializing than she had. Maybe because her mother wasn't terminally ill in this timeline…maybe without Amy to hide behind, she was a bit bolder…or maybe that version of her was just fundamentally different. Without a father, without a sister…with a life so unlike the one she knew, maybe that Lucy was just…different.

And given that that Lucy was engaged and wasn't hung up on a man still mourning his wife for five years, she was inclined to believe that that Lucy was also far less pathetic than she was. Happy, successful, engaged to a handsome doctor who thought she was beautiful and smart…and looked at her in a way no one really had…that Lucy seemed to have everything she had always wanted.

Except Amy. That Lucy didn't have Amy…or a father.

Or Wyatt.

Well, technically she didn't have Wyatt either…but would that Lucy have been as swept off her feet by him as she was? That Lucy had Noah…lovedNoah…and so would that Lucy have seen Wyatt as anything other than the reckless hothead she had first imagined him to be? Would that Lucy have stood before Homeland Security demanding he be kept on the team? Would that Lucy have rushed out in a raging battle to bring him back? To save his life?

Deciding she had better stop that train of thought, lest she open up the floodgates of emotions she could not deal with right now, Lucy began to gather her things to prepare for the day of work ahead of her…including the petticoat Rufus had worn the night before that was now covered in mud splotches and, she noticed with a roll of her eyes, ripped in several places along the hem and the waistline.

"What on Earth?" she gritted out, examining her ripped and soiled garment. "Ugh…Rufus." she groaned as she flung her petticoat over her arm and made her way out to the yard. 'Wyatt…" she began, but stopped short at the sight of him toiling away in the garden.

It wasn't like she didn't know Wyatt was good-looking…and strong…and good-looking…but seeing him hack away at the weed-choked ground with his sleeves rolled up and his muscles straining against the thin fabric of his shirt rendered her a bit speechless as she stood there gaping at him.

He was just wiping his brow when he caught sight of her staring, "You need something?" he asked somewhat self-consciously.

Horrified that she had been caught ogling him like some kind of lovesick teenager, she stammered, "Oh…no…I just…I um…" but for the life of her she couldn't remember what she had come stumbling into the yard for. Her eyes darted around the small yard, desperately searching for anyplace to land that was not Wyatt when she caught sight of the small hen house, "Eggs." she blurted out in final desperation, "I…wanted to…I mean, I thought I should probably gather up some more eggs before I go…I mean. Since you used up what was left in the basket and…and everything."

Eyeing her warily, Wyatt nodded and resumed his work while she quickly marched past him, taking care to keep her eyes trained at her feet until she found refuge in the cramped little lean-to. Breathing out a sigh of relief, albeit a short one as the stuffiness set her to coughing, Lucy made her way to the roosts and proceeded to gather the eggs in her apron. As she did so, her petticoat slid down her arm, reminding her as to why she had come marching into the yard to begin with. Already halfway through her task, Lucy decided she might as well finish before heading back out again…and as she wasn't quite prepared to face Wyatt again after staring at him like he was a piece of meat, she was determined to stay in the chicken coop for as long as she could stand it. Her efforts were hampered, however, by one particularly aggressive chicken that kept pecking at her hand and flapping her wings, until Lucy had no choice but to stumble blindly back out of the coop, dropping all of the eggs she had collected in a yolky heap at her feet.

"Dammit" she gritted out as she stared helplessly at the pile of broken shells.

"You okay?" Wyatt asked with an amused chuckle. He was leaning on the garden hoe, watching as Lucy carefully stepped over the spoiled eggs and cast a disdainful look over her shoulder towards the chicken coop.

"I'm fine…but the eggs aren't." she dismissed with a huff, before adding with snarl, "I hate that chicken."

"Which chicken?" Wyatt asked seriously, turning back to look at the coop.

"That…that red one." Lucy gestured roughly, "It attacks me every time I go in there…and now I've lost all the eggs."

"So we'll get more eggs." Wyatt shrugged as Lucy discarded her ruined petticoat and reached for the shovel. 'Don't worry about it, Lucy." he called to her, "I'll take care of it."

"No, I've got it." Lucy dismissed with a shake of her head, "I'm just going to move them away from the door," but just as she arrived outside said door, her red feathered nemesis came hurtling through it, puffed up and flapping her wings as she chased a screaming Lucy to the other side of the garden.

"Lucy," Wyatt called after her, chuckling, "Just…just grab it…Lucy," he scoffed as she screeched and darted away from it again, "it's just a chicken."

"What?!" she screeched back at him, "You grab it! It…ouch! It's pecking me!"

"Hang on." Wyatt sighed as he let the garden hoe fall to the ground, jogging over to the tree where Lucy was currently cowering behind its massive trunk as the chicken flapped and strutted in front of her. Slowing as he got nearer, Wyatt snuck up behind the chicken, just as it made another lunge for her and scooped it up from the ground, pinning its wings to its side with his hands. "Got ya." he declared triumphantly, before calling to Lucy, "It's okay, you can come out now."

Peeking out from behind the tree to see if, in fact, the coast was clear, Lucy slowly emerged taking care to keep herself as far away from the chicken as possible. At the sight of her, however, the chicken squirmed slightly out of Wyatt's and beat her wings fiercely against Wyatt's now outstretched hands.

"What the…?" Wyatt grunted as he attempted to gain control of the chicken once more, "What the hell did you do to this chicken, Lucy?"

"I didn't do anything to that…that bird." she gritted back angrily, "I told you…that thing just hates me."

Heaving a sigh, Wyatt stalked back to the garden, chicken in hand, calling back to Lucy over his shoulder, "I'll take care of it…why don't you head on over to the farm?"

"Fine." Lucy grumbled as she stalked towards the dirt lane, feeling somewhat embarrassed and ridiculous…so much so that she was almost to the ridge before she realized she had left her petticoat slung over the garden fence post. Groaning, she turned on her heel and marched back towards the cabin, inwardly thinking that if this was any indication of how the rest of her day was going to be, she should have just stayed in bed. With a determined step, she made her way to the backyard, so focused on snatching up her petticoat that she didn't notice, until it was too late, the axe in Wyatt's hand. A flash of silver and the sound of a soft thud had her gasping out in horror, "What are you doing?!"

Wyatt, who had been solely focused on his gruesome task and therefore had not heard nor had he seen Lucy's approach, startled at the sight of her…and as a result released his hold on the newly decapitated chicken which was now flailing wildly on the table.

"Oh my…Why is it doing that?" Lucy screeched as she scrambled to the far corner of the garden.

Attempting to regain control of the situation, Wyatt quickly wrapped the chicken's legs with a bit of cord and hung it upside down on a nearby tree limb, where it continued to jerk and flail frenziedly. "Haven't you ever heard of the old adage, 'running around like a chicken with their head cut off?" he offered as he turned back again towards Lucy with an apologetic shrug, "I…um…I thought you left?"

"I did." Lucy replied weakly, dry heaving at the sound of every frantic flap of the deceased chicken's wings. "I forgot this." she explained as she lifted up her ruined petticoat. "What…what did you have to go and kill it for?"

"I thought I was doing you a favor." Wyatt explained defensively.

"Yeah, well…I didn't hate it that much." Lucy replied with a shudder. "Do you really expect me to eat that…"

"Oh come on, Lucy…how do you think we get chicken back at home?" Wyatt scoffed, "You think they just magically appear in the store?"

"No." Lucy muttered, "I just…I don't like to think about it, okay?" As the sound of the chicken wings beating feverishly against the tree, continued, Lucy pressed her hands over her ears, "Oh God, why is it still doing that?"

Heaving out a sigh, Wyatt took Lucy by the arm and led her to other side of the house, "Look, I'm sorry," he offered, "If I had known you were…I would never done that in front of you."

Lucy nodded but still looked as if she was going to be sick.

"What um…what time do you think you'll be back home tonight?" he asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Oh, I don't know." Lucy sighed as she held a hand over her eyes, "Who knows how much work there is left to do…and then I'll have to see about getting this fixed." she added as she motioned towards her petticoat.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Wyatt began in explanation, "Rufus…um…he had a little trouble walking around in it. I can…I can see about getting you a new one ordered…"

"No, it's okay." Lucy dismissed with a sigh, "I'm sure Mrs. Poe can fix this…and if not, I'll just order one myself…you don't have to…"

"It's my fault." Wyatt countered, "I should be the one to make it right…"

"Really, Wyatt, it's okay." Lucy assured him in exasperation, "It's not that bad…it just needs washing and…you know what? Where are Rufus' pants? I better just take those too."

"Oh," Wyatt began, suddenly remembering, "we…um…put them to soak in the washer." Leading her over to the modified wash tub, he lifted the lid and ducking his arm into the sudsy water to fish out the sopping wet pair of still blood-stained pants. "Huh, I thought they'd be…cleaner." he mumbled in confusion.

"You had these soaking all night?" Lucy asked, before throwing back her head in frustration, "Wait…you didn't put these in hot water, did you? Ugh, you did," she groaned as Wyatt frowned sheepishly, "blood sets in hot water…you have to soak it in cold water first and then scrub as much of the stain as possible before…what?" she asked as Wyatt began smirking at her.

"Nothing…it's just…you." he replied with a shrug, smirking, "Talking about laundry, almost like you talk about history."

Lucy offered him a sardonic eyeroll before explaining, "Well, I got quite the education on how to clean out blood stains after our little visit from the French. What they couldn't wash at the farm, I washed here." she explained as she examined Rufus' pants with a sigh, "I don't think there's any saving these…but I guess we can try. Do you have anything else that needs to go?"

"No, ma'am" Wyatt replied with a slight shake of his head, "but if you're going to be ordering yourself another petticoat…you might want to put in for an extra pair of pants for me and Rufus." he added as he wrung out the excess water on the ruined breeches.

He was just handing them off to her when Rufus made his way through the gate, followed closely by Tom who was carrying a large box full of tools and supplies. "Well look who finally decided to get herself out of bed." he jabbed teasingly at Lucy, "Got caught up on your beauty sleep?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." Lucy jabbed right back, "I'm gonna need all the rest I can get so I can get this blood out of your pants."

"Don't look at me." Rufus replied, holding up his hands defensively, "That was all Wyatt."

"And my petticoat?" Lucy asked archly, "Who was that?"

"Technically, also Wyatt." Rufus argued, "He's the one who raided your damn panty drawer…that wasn't me. I can't help that you took the only other pair of pants that man owns to wash."

"No, but did you have to stomp all over my petticoat? You ripped it in like three places, Rufus." Lucy admonished, shaking it at him, "You do realize I don't sew, right? I'm going to have to have Mrs. Poe fix this."

"Why not ask Wyatt?" Rufus offered as he stalked away towards the back of the house, "Wasn't he bragging all about his mad Home Ec skills last night?"

"Yeah, why didn't you ask me?" Wyatt countered, turning towards her, "I told you I would hel…"

"Help, I know." Lucy finished for him, flushing. "It's…it's just…I'd rather Mrs. Poe do it, okay?"

Frowning, Wyatt considered her for a moment before prodding, "You don't trust me to do it…or you just didn't want me messing around with your…"

"It's my underwear." Lucy spat out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Okay? I just…I would rather Mrs. Poe fix it, if it's all the same to you."

"Fine." Wyatt shrugged somewhat defensively, "But I probably could fix it for you…"

"I'm sure you could." Lucy responded with a huff before rolling her eyes, "Alright, so you don't have anything else that needs to go? Do you think I should see if I can get more eggs from Mrs. Poe? And maybe some vegetables…you know for the…"she started to ask Wyatt, unable to bring herself to reference the chicken she had essentially sent to its death.

Wyatt was just about to respond when Rufus came running towards them, "Hey, you know one of your chickens is caught up in the tree? Tom's trying to get it down now…"

"No, don't…" Wyatt argued, but it was too late, Tom was already walking towards them, holding the dead chicken up by its feet, its missing head now evident to Rufus…and to Lucy who promptly ducked behind the water barrel and vomited. "Seriously, man, why'd you have to do that?" Wyatt groaned as he ran to get Lucy a washcloth.

'Well how the hell was I to know it was dead?" Rufus argued at him through the window of the cabin, "It was all tangled up in a cord and flapping like crazy…I thought it needed help, I didn't know it was headless."

Hardly recovered from her first bout of sickness, Lucy doubled over again before Wyatt could race back with a washcloth to offer her some relief. When he finally did reach her, he glared hard at Rufus before setting a gentle hand on Lucy's back, pressing the cool cloth to the nape of her neck, "You okay?" he murmured as he rubbed soothing circles up and down her spine.

"Ugh." Lucy moaned in response, not daring to stand upright again until her stomach stopped churning. "I'm sorry…" she finally grunted she pulled the cloth off of her neck and wiped her face, "It was just the…how is it still moving?"

Wyatt made to respond, but at that moment, John Fraser appeared on the lane in front of their cabin, waving at them jovially as he leaned on his cane. "Good morning!" he cried, but at the sight of Lucy bent over double, his smile faded into a look of concern, "My dear, I heard you were unwell, it's not too serious, I hope?"

Exchanging a look with Wyatt as he helped her up, Lucy shook her head, "No…nothing serious. I just…"

"She's just got a bit of a weak stomach." Wyatt offered in simple explanation.

"Oh, well that's surprising." he mused as he eyed her thoughtfully, "I seem to recall the surgeon referencing her assistance to him in the aftermath of that horrible night as indispensable…could not have done without her, I'm told. And you…" he nodded towards Wyatt, "Did she not also nurse you back to health? Change your bandages and such?"

"Well, yeah…" Wyatt agreed, "but…"

"I'm fine." Lucy assured as she swallowed hard, "Really, it was just…a bad morning. I…I was actually just on my way to help Mrs. Poe finish the laundry." she added as she made a gesture towards the road in an attempt to excuse herself, wanting to be as far away from the still moving chicken as possible.

"Oh, there's no need to rush off, my dear," John Fraser called after her, "Mrs. Poe can spare you for a few more moments, I'm sure. Besides," he added with a slight bow, "my business here today involves you too."

Begrudgingly Lucy slowly made her way back towards the men as John Fraser explained, "As you know, we'll be saying goodbye to the last of the regiment tomorrow next and I thought it would be both fitting and proper to invite the remaining officers to dinner this evening. Seeing as we owe so much to the both of you, I was hoping that you would be among our guests."

Wyatt looked over his shoulder to where Rufus had just disappeared with the chicken and shrugged, "Well…I..um…"

"We'd love to." Lucy interrupted, casting Wyatt a meaningful glance.

"Wonderful!" John Fraser exclaimed, clapping his hands together, "Mrs. Poe assures me that dinner will be ready by 7:30…you are both welcome to use the washroom at the house to freshen up before dinner, if you'd like. I know these simple accommodations leave much to be desired." he added with a frown, before turning to Lucy and offering, "Now, if you are still planning on assisting Mrs. Poe today, I would be happy to escort you back…see that you get there safely and all of that. I'll even send Margaret back to fetch a change of clothes for you this afternoon."

"Alright," Lucy agreed with a nod, "Just give me a minute to grab a few things and I'll catch up with you." Thus dismissed, John Fraser offered Wyatt a cordial bow and began limping his way back down the road while Lucy gathered up her torn petticoat and Rufus' pants.

"We'd love to?" Wyatt hissed at her, "What about the chicken?"

"What about the chicken?" Lucy replied with an indifferent shrug, "I didn't ask you to kill it."

"No…" Wyatt admitted glumly, before muttering, "but I was…I was just trying to help you out. You said you hated that chicken, so I took care of it…and thought we'd get dinner out of it – win/win."

"Not win/win" Lucy argued, "You really think I could eat that after…after…"

"You ate the snake." Wyatt countered meaningfully. "and you sure as hell ate the rabbit I made last night."

"That…that was different." Lucy maintained, hotly. " With the snake, we were starving…desperate. And I didn't actually see the rabbits so…"

"You don't think that when winter comes it's going to be harder to get food around here? That we won't be desperate? " Wyatt pressed, "Lucy, I know this is all new to you, okay? And I'm sorry, I never would have killed that chicken in front of you…but you have to understand, this is how things are done here, okay? If we want to eat, especially with winter coming on, we're going to have to…"

"I know," Lucy interrupted in exasperation, "it's not that."

'Well, then what is it?" Wyatt pressed, "And don't even try to tell me you're a vegetarian…because I've seen you eat burgers…ma'am. Big ones."

"It's just…" Lucy frowned as she huffed out a breath, "I feel bad, alright? This isn't like…hunting for some random animal in the woods. This was something I...I fed…and yes, I hated the stupid thing," she added as Wyatt raised his eyebrows at her in amusement, "but I…I knew it. How can I eat something I knew?"

As much as Wyatt wanted to laugh at Lucy, he couldn't. As a kid, he remembered helping his grandpa raise goats that he knew would eventually end up in someone's smoker….it's why you didn't name them. Still, for as much as Lucy despised that chicken…

Smirking at her, Wyatt nodded, "Fair enough. Hey, Rufus?" he called, over his shoulder, still smiling at her, "How would you and Tom like to have a chicken dinner tonight?"

"Thank you." Lucy mouthed as she offered him a sheepish smile and backed away towards the road.

Shaking his head at her, still smirking, Wyatt replied, "No problem…ma'am."

Just as Lucy had feared, Mrs. Poe was already tightly wound by the time she finally arrived at the farm. Not only was she attempting to get through the last of the laundry, Lucy knew she was now planning nothing short of a feast for the dinner that evening…and as such, was considerably stressed.

"Had a good lie in?" she barked before Lucy could even step one foot onto the porch. Lucy had barely opened her mouth to respond, when Mrs. Poe dismissed her with a wave of her hand, "Never you mind, you're here now that's all that matters. I take it you are feeling better?" Again, Lucy made to respond but was once again interrupted by the housekeeper, "What's that you've got there?" she accosted, wrenching the ruined garments out of Lucy's arms. "My gracious, child what on God's green Earth have you done with your petticoat?"

Deciding it was best not to divulge that Rufus had donned it the previous evening, Lucy lied, "I think I must have stepped on it and ripped it…oh and the waist needs some work too…it's ripped just there." she added as she pointed out the tear to a steely eyed Mrs. Poe who was now holding up Rufus' bloody pants.

"And I suppose this is your doing too?" she asked with raised eyebrows as she noted the positioning of the blood stains all along the front, "I must say, I had wondered why your skirts were always so clean…well, until today at any rate." Shaking her head in obvious disapproval, she muttered, "Never thought I'd live to see the day…what will those city folks think of next?"

Lucy gaped at Mrs. Poe in confusion, hardly understanding what she meant until her eyes settled on the blood all over the front of Rufus' pants. Catching onto what she was implying, Lucy shook her head, "Oh no…no…I…that's… no." she breathed out awkwardly, "Wyatt was just cleaning rabbits yesterday…and there was an accident with a bucket or something." she offered in explanation, "That…that's all." she added…hoping that would be all.

But it wasn't.

"Did you not scrub it out right away?" Mrs. Poe asked indignantly as she began working the lye into the stains, "It seems fairly set."

"Yes, well…Wyatt tried." she offered up weakly, but at Mrs. Poe's shocked expression, she added, "He was just trying to help…he didn't want to bother me with it…and I guess he put them in hot water to soak…"

"And that is exactly why a man should never be trusted with a woman's work." Mrs. Poe declared with an emphatic shake of her head, "It'll be a nothing short of a miracle if we can get this to come clean…but I suppose if we don't you can always cut them up as napkins for your own use…not that I suppose you need them. Can't say I've ever seen a woman's garments so unsoiled as yours. Though, you are a good deal thinner than you ought to be." Mrs. Poe surmised, "Still as matter of health, you should have a regular issue…lest your humors become unbalanced. Perhaps that is why you are feeling so out of sorts?"

Lucy stared back at Mrs. Poe blankly, hardly knowing how to respond. Of course, in this century without anything that resembled what she knew as underwear, women's…personal hygiene left a lot to be desired. Napkins, as Mrs. Poe called them were sometimes pinned to a belt…and other times…nothing at all was used. In either case, however, there would be tell-tale evidence…evidence that Lucy didn't have and wouldn't have because once upon a time in the 21st century she had an IUD placed.

When it had become clear these missions weren't going to be stopping anytime soon, she decided she that she never wanted to be caught in an awkward situation in a century where they didn't have feminine products…or as in this case, even underwear. So, she had made the determination that she needed something a little more hassle free than her regular go to pills…

But there was no way she could explain that to Mrs. Poe.

So, once again…she lied. "Oh well, I um…I just do my soiled petticoats at home". she dismissed with a blush. "I didn't want to bother you with…"

"How many petticoats do you have, child?" Mrs. Poe asked doubtfully, "I know I've washed at least one or two of yours…"

"No, I don't think you have." Lucy replied awkwardly, though she knew Mrs. Poe, at that point, was convinced she was lying. The skepticism was readily apparent on the housekeeper's face and while Lucy really doubted that Mrs. Poe would drop the subject and her suspicions, she pressed on, desperate to change the subject, "Anyway," she breathed out anxiously, "if you think those aren't going to be salvageable," she offered with a nod towards the pants, "we don't have to go through this whole process…Wyatt told me he is fine ordering another pair – we both just thought it wouldn't hurt to try…but if it will be a hassle, then…"

"No hassle." Mrs. Poe dismissed with a sigh, still eyeing her suspiciously, "We'll leave them to soak in lye for a day or two before we try to scrub them clean. If it comes to nothing, it comes to nothing…but this is mighty fine material…we can't have that go to waste, now can we?

"I guess not…but wouldn't it be easier…"

"Easier." Mrs. Poe snorted derisively, "That may be the way things are done in the city, but here? A good pair of breeches out here could cost upwards of a whole pound…and that's not exactly easy to come by…why, a man would have to provide at least a sack full of good game for that much."

'Really?" Lucy asked in mock amazement, "a whole pound?"

"Aye," Mrs. Poe answered with a meaningful nod, "but here, money has very little value…it's all furs and game, guns and ammunition…each worth its own weight in gold...which should set you up quite nicely," Mrs. Poe added with a chuckle, "If that husband of yours managed to get himself a couple of coneys, well, then I'd say you were on a fair way to making a good living for yourself out here…as long as the French don't take over the lot, that is."

At the mention of the French, Lucy swallowed hard, "Have there…have there been any more reports about them since…since…"

"Since that last attack?" Mrs. Poe finished for her, "Nothing I've heard, and we will probably be hearing even less once the last of the soldiers make their way back to Fort Cumberland tomorrow next. They say, however, that General Braddock is bringing quite the Army with him and if the weather stays, well, we may drive the French out of here before the Spring."

"What?" Lucy gasped out in horror, earning her a curious look from Mrs. Poe. "I…I mean…you don't think there's going to be another battle close to here do you?" she amended, "I just…after the last one…"

"Never you mind, dear." Mrs. Poe offered gently, patting her hand. "Let the men worry about the fighting…you just tend to your cooking and laundry and keep a sharp eye." she added, before muttering quietly, "I dare say you have enough to worry about as it is."

Lucy's first impulse was to bristle at Mrs. Poe's condescending directive, especially since she knew darn well that General Braddock wasn't even supposed to be here for another seven months and that his subsequent march on Fort Duquesne was…or rather would be one of the most disastrous efforts in the history of the French and Indian war. It wasn't like she could explain that to Mrs. Poe, however, so instead she quietly took her seat beside her and began, albeit begrudgingly, assisting her in scrubbing out the soiled aprons, her mind abuzz with a litany of what ifs.

With the British soldiers gone, would that prompt another attack from the French…or would it draw their attention towards Fort Cumberland? And if General Braddock did launch his attack before the Spring, what would that mean for the rest of the war? What would it mean for George Washington? His leadership in the aftermath of Braddock's death and stunning defeat is what propels him to become the man who will eventually lead the American forces to victory against the British. If all of that were to change…what would it mean for the Country? What would it mean for the Revolution? What if everything they had done since arriving in this century changed the entire outcome of the French and Indian War?

All afternoon she obsessed over every detail of their time in 1754, thought over every instance that they could have done differently…and desperately tried to think of anything that they could do to keep Braddock from making his move before he was supposed to. If he drove out the French from Duquesne…sure, they might be able to breathe easier…but where would those French troops go? Canada? Or would head East and reinforce the French positions around Lake George? If they did that it could absolutely change the entire outcome of the war. If the British lost the strongholds on Lake George early in the war…there would be no Siege at Fort William Henry…maybe not even a battle at Fort Niagara…everything would be different...and would probably affect everything afterwards, including the American Revolution.

By the time Lucy entered the washroom to get ready for dinner, her already sensitive stomach was twisted in so many knots, she felt nauseous…something that did not escape Mrs. Poe's notice. "Are you still feeling sickly, child?" she asked, eyeing a grimacing Lucy warily.

"I'm alright." Lucy assured with heavy sigh, "I'm just a little anxious, that's all."

Considering Lucy for a moment, Mrs. Poe excused herself, returning several minutes later with a steaming brew that she promptly encouraged Lucy to drink, "Take this, it will help."

"What is it?" Lucy asked sniffing at the mug.

"Just a bit of ginger root tea" Mrs. Poe replied with a sigh as she began pouring different oils into Lucy's bath. "Drink it." she ordered as Lucy continued to frown into the mug, "It'll put you right in no time. Drink, dear…please. I promise it will do you a world of good."

Hardly convinced the tea would alleviate her anxious and knotted stomach, Lucy nevertheless did as she was told, hoping that between the tea and the hot bath her worries over butterfly effects and impending battles would dissipate…but one look at the dress Margaret had just flung over the chair caused that hope to fly as quickly as it had come.

Of course, eating dinner in a formal setting would require her to wear something other than the common and coarse dresses she wore on a regular day…and as her wedding gown was the nicest one she owned, it was hardly a surprise that that was the dress Margaret had chosen. Given the very real and raw emotions she had been suffering the past few days the last thing she wanted to do was stuff herself back into the dress that served as a stark reminder of the day she was increasingly beginning to regret – the day that started this whole mess. Oh, that dress...why didn't she think this through? She had no doubt Wyatt would recognize it, remember when she had worn it last...and that would inevitably make things even more uncomfortable than they already were between them. Still, what choice did she have? She couldn't very well cancel right now, could she? And it wasn't like she could ask to wear something else without garnering a heck of a lot of suspicion and awkward questions. She only hoped Wyatt, for all his own grief over their wedding, would understand.

Wyatt, who would probably be dressed up in his own wedding attire.

Oh, crap...she really didn't think this through.

Dammit.

"Won't you look a vision in this gown?" Mrs. Poe admired as she draped the dress over the table to iron, "The color suits you so well." I don't think I ever saw a prettier bride, than you…nor a groom who looked quite so anxious." she chuckled, much to Lucy's dismay. "Seeing as how you didn't get a proper wedding feast that night, we'll have to take extra care that you two enjoy this evening, won't we?"

"Oh, no." Lucy groaned as she sank lower into the water, feeling nothing but regret at agreeing to this dinner. She would send one thousand chickens to their deaths rather than relive her wedding night to Wyatt and all the awkwardness that came with it.

"What's wrong, dear?" Mrs. Poe asked as she ironed out Lucy's skirts. "Are you feeling out of sorts again? Margaret, go fetch me some more of that tea…"

"No." Lucy replied shaking her head determinedly, "I'm fine…I'm fine." she assured her, "really, I just…need a minute." Covering her face with her hands, Lucy took several deep breaths, attempting to calm the racing of her heart. She felt like she was trapped in that sinking car again, drowning in her own stupid feelings that would not go away…and probably would never go away if she was going to be forced to continually play this role with Wyatt – that of a happily married couple.

Why the hell did she agree to dinner?

"Dear, you are in a right state." Mrs. Poe stated in alarm, "should I fetch your husband? The surgeon? Margaret, run and find Mr. Wyatt…"

"No!" Lucy cried out in panic as Margaret reached for the door, "Don't…don't bother him." Lucy pleaded, flushing, "I…um…I don't want him to worry." she lied in explanation.

"If you're sure…" Mrs. Poe responded slowly, watching her out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm sure." Lucy replied with a nod, determined to pull herself together. She couldn't keep falling apart like this, she couldn't let her own feelings for Wyatt send her into a state of panic anytime they were thrown together in situations where they would be expected to act the part of husband and wife…and not just co-workers doing their job. With what she hoped was a convincing smile, Lucy huffed out a breath and added, "It's nothing,,,,really...I...I just remembered…I…I um…forgot to ask you for eggs…I dropped all of ours this morning."

"All of that…over eggs?" Mrs. Poe asked, her voice dripping with doubt. "Dear child, that's nothing to go into hysterics about…of course you may have some eggs and anything else you stand in need of…you know that."

Lucy did know that, but she hoped that her lame attempt at excusing her melt down would at least ward off any suspicion that anything was amiss between her and Wyatt...for the time being. Mrs. Poe, however, was not so easily swayed. As she helped Lucy into her corset, she took care not to jostle her too much, nor pull the strings too tight…convinced now that the suspicions she had already been forming earlier that day, had just been verified.

Notes:

First let me apologize for the delay, my laptop is getting on in years and is showing its age. I had 75% of this chapter done and it went on the fritz and nothing I tried was helping it. When we finally managed to get it back up and running again, half of this chapter was gone...and if that has ever happened to you, you know how gut wrenching that can be. I needed a few days to cry over lost work.

As for the chapter...Mrs. Poe suspects something. When I started planning this fic...OH SO LONG AGO...I did so with a check list of things that I sort of wanted to address or hit on. One thing that I kept crossing out and then coming back to was this...a suspected pregnancy...for the very reasons I address in this chapter. Back in those days...there weren't a lot of ways women could be discreet about their feminine issues. As we discussed last time, women (and men) didn't have anything that resembled modern day underwear...and so there wasn't much women could do to keep from just flowing right into their clothes. (nice, right?) And surprise surprise there is very little written about these things historically. We know that some women MIGHT have pinned belts on...or fashioned a diaper like thing...but what is generally acknowledged is that they didn't wear anything at all as some doctors state that was the healthiest thing to do. Obviously, this would be an issue for Lucy...either having to deal with it herself or garnering suspicion for not exhibiting any signs of having to deal with it...I chose the latter, because I really didn't want to get into the awkwardness of her desperately searching for feminine napkins in the 18th century and I just thought a suspected pregnancy would be more fun.

I hope you all enjoyed this update. Take care and thank you for reading.