I didn't think it was true
I was surprised
When I found out I've fallen for you
I didn't wanna believe my feelings for you
-Peachy!, Falling For U
All Lucy felt when she jerked awake was blind panic. The last thing she could remember was seeing Flynn's face and screaming for help before a foul-smelling cloth had been pressed to her mouth. She had lost consciousness within seconds and slumped, embarrassingly, into Flynn's waiting arms. She tried to stand, but quickly realised both her arms and legs were tied to the uncomfortable wooden chair she was sitting in. Wyatt sat slumped beside her, his eyes closed and head lolling to one side.
"Lucy?" a voice whispered from Wyatt's left.
"Rufus?"
"Are you hurt?" He asked, leaning forward so she could see him. He looked frightened but, she was relieved to see, not injured.
"No, I don't think so..."
She looked warily around the room. It was derelict and moulding, and the decoration was a hundred years old at least, but a fairly modern tape player sat atop a set of drawers beside her. She was far too distracted to find this odd, however, for she had just noticed the man standing watching her a little too enthusiastically from beside the closed door. She refused to look at his unpleasant smile, and instead turned her attention back to Wyatt.
"Get up." She hissed loudly. He jerked his head.
"Wyatt!"
He woke up with a gasp, looking around frantically.
"You ok?" Rufus asked.
Wyatt focused blearily on him. "Peachy."
Without warning, the door creaked open, and in strode Flynn. He dismissed his crony with a click of his tongue and regarded them all, hands in his pockets.
"Recognise this room?" He asked. "You stayed here the night Abraham Lincoln was shot. But of course, you'd remember, Lucy, wouldn't you?" He winked at her. Shivers raced down her spine at the memory of them on the hotel's bed.
She refused to break off eye contact with Flynn as he shrugged off his smart suit jacket. It disgraced her how vividly she could remember the heat of his body against hers, and the addictiveness of his reckless touch. Lucy fought the blush that rose in her cheeks, very aware that Wyatt was frowning at her.
"A few weeks for us, a century for them. Remarkable, huh?"
Lucy gulped nervously under his gaze.
"Oh, God." Wyatt interrupted. "You're gonna talk us to death, aren't you?"
Flynn ignored him. "Had a hunch I'd find you on the way to the White House, Lucy. I need you to do something for me."
"We're not getting the Nixon tapes for you."
"Not necessary. I already got it myself." He held up a white plastic box, and turned to busy himself with the tape player.
"You broke into the White House basement."
"You think you're the only ones who can forge a 1970s ID? I do own a colour printer and a laminator. The only problem was, I had to shoot a White House guard on the way out. Well, two actually. And now, I can't really move around the city freely. Authorities are looking for me."
There was a small click, and he turned from the player to face her again. "So, I need you to find something."
Lucy pursed her lips. "What?"
"Let's have a listen."
Flynn pressed a button on the machine, which started turning. President Nixon's voice issued from it - saying something about an important doc, and... Rittenhouse. He had definitely just said the word "Rittenhouse". Fear flooded her body. Flynn hadn't been lying - if Nixon knew about Rittenhouse... It had to be real.
She could do nothing but stare at him, thoughts and theories running through her head. He seemed satisfied, if not actually amused, at her confused expression. His head tilted predatorily.
"Did you hear what President Nixon just said, Lucy?"
She was suddenly more nervous than she had been when she'd woken up, and nodded shakily.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that." He leaned down to her eye level, bracing his hands on his legs.
"Rittenhouse."
"I guess it's not so much my "paranoid delusion" anymore, is it?" He straightened up once more. "This document Nixon wants-"
"I don't know anything about it. I don't know what he's talking about, okay?" she stuttered.
"I believe you." he reached behind him and picked up a journal from the drawers - her journal. "I even looked in here, and I couldn't find anything about this document."
Rufus and Wyatt regarded it suspiciously. "What's that?" Rufus asked.
Flynn looked up, delighted. "Oh, this is Lucy's journal," he said casually. "What? She never told you about it?"
Lucy closed her eyes. She was in deep shit now.
"What's he talking about?" Wyatt asked her.
"I didn't write it." she jumped on the defensive.
Flynn pulled a seat into the center of the room and turned it backwards, sitting himself down with his legs spread open comfortably.
"Well, it's complicated. You see, she is going to write it. A few years from now," Flynn smiled at her. She didn't reciprocate. Most of her concentration was split between thinking of an escape route, and very carefully not letting her eyes travel southward.
"What?" Rufus was nonplussed.
"I know. Time travel, right? Pew!" He imitated his head blowing up. "It's my guide. Apparently, she and I are going to be quite the team one day."
Lucy's heart pounded. "It's not real, it's a fake." she tried to assure them, but they regarded her with immense distrust in their eyes. Crap.
"Lucy," he laughed cockily. "We talked about this. You even admitted it's your own handwriting!"
"No. I said it looked like my handwriting, not that I ever wrote it, or ever will." Her temper was rising with every second she sat tied to the chair.
"But..." Rufus sounded betrayed. "You did talk to Flynn? When?"
She froze, looking beseechingly at Flynn.
"Ooh, let's see." He said enthusiastically, making Lucy hang her head in shame. "The Hindenburg, that Nazi castle in Germany, even this very room in 1865. Lucy," he said mockingly, folding his arms. "What have you told them about us?"
Lucy was, at least, thankful he did not tell them any more than that - she might have honestly curled up and died.
"Is that true?" Wyatt asked.
"It's complicated." she replied. She could now fully appreciate how well that word described her current situation.
"No. The truth is not complicated."
Oh, if he only knew.
"I don't know what the truth is anymore."
Flynn moved from where he had been watching the drama unfold and spoke at last, his rich voice cutting through the tension;
"Okay, the truth is, she didn't believe in Rittenhouse until President Nixon just confirmed it. But for now, if Rittenhouse wants this document so badly, whatever it is, I want it first."
"How are we supposed to find it?" She asked, taking advantage of his distraction.
"If there's one thing you've proven, it's your resourcefulness."
He pulled out a pocket knife and flicked it up, making her jump, but to her relief, he simply got to his knees and began to cut her legs free.
She bit her lip in an attempt to repress thoughts of how sinfully gorgeous he looked kneeling before her. When he moved to free her wrists, she almost whimpered, actually whimpered, as his eyes flicked to hers and his hand happened to graze her thigh as he stood. Lucy didn't know what on earth had come over her, but whatever it was definitely had to stop. Flynn stood behind her to saw at the ropes and purred in her ear; "You'll find a way."