Chapter Text
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The Room Where It Happened
December 24, 2018
I stare at the autopsy report until the words blur, until the photo of Flynn sharpens into painful focus highlighting the pallor of his skin. Someone says something about a gold star and I can’t find it in myself to give even the tiniest shit about an empty, useless honor.
“What have we done?”
No one is listening.
Mason toasts the man who’ll never swagger into the room again and I choke on the words battering for release. I want to scream into the echoing void, but I stay silent, frozen on the steps of the Lifeboat.
“We just let him sacrifice himself.”
I stand, walking in a daze through the kitchen. Jiya moves to stop me, but the anger blazing from my glare warns her off.
“Should somebody, um?” my friend starts to ask, but I continue on. Stopping in front of his door. Pushing inside.
I slip his leather jacket over my thin t-shirt. His scent still clings to the well-worn fabric and I remember the feel of his strength as I cried myself to sleep in his arms. The half-empty bottle still sits on the shelf, waiting for an impossible tomorrow.
I refuse to collapse, pulling on shoes and tucking my journal into the inside pocket of Flynn’s jacket. I strap my weapon to my hip. Saying goodbye forever. Closing his door.
The team is still gathered around the table. They turn as I enter the room, unsure if they should approach.
“Give it to me,” I address Agent Christopher.
She takes a tentative step forward. “Give you what?”
“The zip drive I tried to give to Flynn so that he could save his family.”
“Lucy, you know—”
I don’t hesitate, pulling my gun just like Flynn trained me; I have no patience for the lies. “I know you made a copy.”
Wyatt pulls his weapon in response, but the older woman waves him off. “I can’t just hand that over to you.”
“Yes.” The sound of my cocking weapon echoes off the walls of the bunker. “You can.”
“Think about the consequences.” Denise tries to reason with me, but the Lucy who might’ve cared has ceded control.
I shrug. “Jiya and Rufus will meet through Mason Industries and I have the other zip drive containing all the information we passed to you in 1981. I can either ensure that you still receive the information that led you to Michelle. Or not.” I sight down the barrel, breathing evenly. “It’s your choice, but I’m going to save him either way.”
She must see something in my eyes because Denise nods in surrender. “Jiya. Prep the Lifeboat for a jump. I’ll get it.”
I relax a fraction, but keep my gun level. “Tell Mason where it is. He can get it.”
“Shoebox. Top shelf of the linen closet.”
Mason rushes out of the room, anxious to be away from the tense standoff between friends. Once he returns with the zip drive and hands it over, I keep my eyes trained on the team as I walk backwards to the time machine. I won’t risk any of them stopping me.
I don’t breathe until the door closes and I plug the drive into the console. An eternity passes while I wait. The search ends and I open the file, scanning over the pages until I find what I’m looking for: the name of the man who put the hit out on Garcia Flynn and his family.
***
July 4th, 1982
Stanford, California
I sit in the stolen rust colored Ford Pinto staring at the white, two-story home, music from the backyard filtering in through the open window. It is far too hot for Flynn’s leather, but I don’t care, I want something of his to keep with me. I take the key out of the ignition and open the car door; reminding myself that the longer I sit there, the longer he stays dead.
Crossing over the perfectly manicured yard, I head towards the sound of music and conversation. I never expected a party, but it makes no difference. My father is home and that is all that matters. Originally I planned to kill the person who put out the hit, but I can’t kill my father, no matter how much I wish I could.
Besides, someone else would just step into the vacuum. It won’t ensure that Lorena and Iris live. That Flynn lives. He deserves a happy ending.
I stop in front of the man who gave me life. “Benjamin Cahill?”
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” A fake smile spreads across his face.
“You’ll want to have this conversation inside the house.” My smile mimics his as I pull back Flynn’s leather just enough to show him my weapon.
His smile vanishes. “And why shouldn’t I just have you arrested and thrown in jail? If you know who I am, you know the power I command.”
I lean close enough that I can’t be heard over the band. “I’m here about Rittenhouse.”
The sound of breaking glass silences his response. I turn to see my mother gawking at me, her hand frozen halfway to her mouth. I’d known there was a risk that Carol would be here as well given the time frame, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the pain from flooding my system at seeing my mother standing in front of me, young, vibrant, and so very alive.
“Carol?” Benjamin’s brow creases in concern that quickly erases.
She ignores him, crossing to me. She is so close I could touch her, but I keep my hands at my side. “Who are you?”
“As I was saying,” I begin, turning to my father and swallowing the tears that rush to my eyes as the memory of her death washes over me, “I’m certain you’d rather have this conversation inside.”
My father lays a possessive hand on my mother’s back and I want to turn away. “Carol, wait here. I’ll return shortly.”
“She’ll want to be part of this conversation as well,” I insist, wanting as much time with her. When I return she will not be the mother who died in San Francisco.
He sweeps out an arm, gesturing towards the ornate French doors that lead inside.
“After you.” I refuse to show this man my back, father or no. He acquiesces and I follow, steeling my spine for what I must do.
We end in the same living room where we’d talked for the first time we met, where he tried to convince me of the benefits of Rittenhouse. The return seems fitting given the coming conversation.
My father moves to the sideboard, pouring a drink from a crystal decanter. “Would you care for one?” I decline and he turns back to the cart, setting aside his glass and reaching for a metal shaker. “Then would you care to enlighten me as to your presence in my home? As you might have noticed, I am entertaining and thus quite unavailable.”
I drop all pretense of civility, letting go of the team and everything that came before this moment. Letting go of the life I might have had. I will save him and pay whatever price the universe demands. “My name is Lucy Preston.”
Carol narrows her eyes from her place at the mantle. “If you’re here to tell me that I have a long lost sibling I am unaware of, you may escort yourself out. Benja—” she breaks off, correcting herself and shooting a quick glance at him, “Professor Cahill will have nothing to do with such a scheme.”
I ignore her slip-up. “You reacted when you saw me for the first time. I look familiar to you. You feel like you know me though we’ve never met. Yes?”
My father glances over his shoulder at me, a discerning look in his eyes as he crosses to hand Carol a martini.
The beautiful, young blond adjusts a flower-filled vase, affecting a dismissive air. “I’ll confess you bare a passing resemblance to a cousin.”
A mother knows, Lucy, her frequent answer to any future defiance I might consider, echoes in my mind. “I am your daughter.”
“We’re nearly the same age!” My mother covers her shock with a sip. “Besides, I am quite certain I’d remember having a child.”
“The two of you,” I indicate my parents who are both staring at me with identical looks of disbelief, "are involved in a clandestine relationship and in a few months, you will become pregnant with a daughter. A daughter, coincidentally, of two distinguished Rittenhouse families.”
“This is absolutely ridiculous.” My father ends the conversation, gathering my mother to leave.
“I know all about Nicholas Keynes and his plans for a brave new world.” They halt midway to the door. “Rittenhouse will fail, but I can help you change that.”
Cocking a hip against the white leather couch, Benjamin Cahill gives me an icy smile. “Say I believe you’re my future daughter, which I don’t, but say I do. How can you help us?”
Am I really prepared to betray everything we fought for?
“Because in the future I am part of a team that is fighting against you, but I can tell you how to stop that from happening at all.” The feel of Flynn cradling me in the Philadelphia alley overwhelms my senses and I know I will sacrifice anything, knowing that in the end, the mission will demand everything. “I know what sets it all in motion.”
“Is that so?” My father sips his bourbon and eyes me over the rim of the glass.
“It is.” I do not blink. Another trick Flynn taught me.
“And why would I trust someone who openly admits to being my enemy? In the future,” he adds with a smirk.
“Because you never wanted us to be enemies. I am your daughter, whether you believe it or not, and I will give you what you both desire. An heir to willingly step into the role you designed for her.”
“A daughter of our families would be powerful,” my mother comments as she finishes her martini and sets the glass on the mantle.
“Indeed.” Benjamin stands, collecting the empty drink and moving to refill it. Ice cubes clink in the metal shaker, disturbing the otherwise silence. “And what would you want in return?”
The only thing that matters. “In 2014, you will discover a man named Garcia Flynn digging into Rittenhouse. I want you to leave him and his family alone. ”
“So I ignore this man’s infiltration and what? Just let him go? If you know me, you know I can’t do that.”
“If you don’t, my team will take down Rittenhouse for good and I will ensure that you rot in jail for the rest of your miserable life.” I don’t know how we would do that, but I would find a way. Without Flynn I have nothing to live for and everything to die for.
“You can’t honestly believe this woman?” my mother asks from her station at the mantle, but there is doubt in her tone. A part of her believes me.
“Hush now,” he chides, absently stirring the cocktail. “When will I ever have this chance again?” Placing the lid on the shaker, he turns back to me. “You say all I have to do is leave this man alone? If I do that, Rittenhouse survives and I get my daughter ruling by my side as I’ve always wanted?” he asks, his sarcasm thick as he strains the vodka into the chilled glass. “It can’t be that easy. What’s the catch?”
“The man, he’s dead in my timeline.” I can barely speak the words.
“And I suppose I am responsible for his death?” I nod. It’s all I’m capable of at this point. I’m afraid I’ll crack and Flynn will remain dead. Forever. “Are you sure he’s worth it? Seems a bit excessive to sacrifice so much for one man.”
“I suppose,” I admit, burying my guilt at the betrayal of my friends among the heartbreak. I will still see that Rittenhouse falls; I just won’t have to lose everyone along the way. If I have to die in the end, I’ll die knowing I reunited Flynn with his family. It’s the least I can do. “He’s worth it.”
If he stood by my side now, he’d never let me make the deal. But Garcia Flynn isn’t here to stop me.
“So how does this work? Am I just supposed to trust that if I hold up my end of the bargain, you will as well? Or do we start work immediately?” My father is humoring me and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin at the worry that I’ll fail again. He finishes his bourbon and leaves the glass on a side table for a servant to clean up later. “I think I’ve been entertained enough for one day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have guests to attend to.”
“You don’t believe me?” I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it together.
“I don’t believe you,” my father responds, curt, as if the conversation is already over, and stands. “If you have nothing further to offer…”
There’s only ever been one way out. One way to save him. I’ve known it the entire time even if I refused to admit it.
“What if I could give you proof?” My voice comes out a croaking whisper.
I have my journal and the zip drive. Both are dangerous under Rittenhouse control. Either I hand them a road map on what they did wrong the first time around or I relinquish my only leverage.
My only other option is to give up on Flynn and that’s not an option.
“Then I’d say you’ve bought yourself another minute.”
He wouldn’t want me to do this, I think slipping my hand into my pocket.
“You will have to be patient, but one day you will see that I’ve told you the truth and you will honor this bargain.” I pull the zip drive out, my fingers curling around it.
Flynn would never forgive me, but he would never have to know. He’d have Lorena and Iris back.
Even as my heart breaks, I extend my hand and open my fingers. “Agreed?”
Benjamin Cahill takes the zip drive. “Agreed.”