Revolutions coming, no time for lies and games
The State's inspiring hate, something I conspire tae break
Here by the way it'd be nice if nob'dy had tae die the day
- Stanley Odd, It's All Gone to Fuck
It wasn't easy to watch the Titanic sink down inch by inch. Watching the last of the lifeboats get lowered was even worse, somehow. It was the knowing how many would die and the knowing there was nothing she could do to save them once those boats were all in the water that made her heart ache like nothing she'd ever felt before.
She'd tried. She'd had so much hope. It hadn't been enough. And she'd have to live with that.
But at least the boats were full. At least Flynn was perched on the edge of the lifeboat beside her. It wasn't the safest or most comfortable of situations, and you could forget about ever feeling like you would be warm again, but they were alive.
The women whose husbands had been too late for the intervention of Lucy and Flynn glared at him with mutinous eyes, but her presence beside him formed a barrier. They couldn't say anything when there was someone there who needed him so much they'd forced hundreds into lifeboats just to ensure he was one of them.
She leaned her head on Flynn's shoulder, though her hands stayed firmly stuffed under her layers of skirts for warmth. Lucy was so cold she was fairly certain little icicles would be forming on her nose any second now.
It was only silence save for the distant ruckus and steady thud of the oars rowing the boat as far away as the shipman in charge could get them. He'd refused Flynn's help, stupidly, and was already slowing with fatigue. She had a nasty feeling Flynn would end up taking the brunt of that once he finally swallowed his pride and accepted the offer.
But for now, she closed her eyes, feeling Flynn's head rest atop hers. She wished she could just sleep.
But then that piercing wailing started up again - Bertram cried with all the strength he had left in his little lungs. Which was, contrary to his miniature size, apparently a whole lot of strength. That set off the baby, which set off everyone muttering grumpily and resulted in half-hearted attempts from those sitting around Etta to calm them down. One woman relieved her of Millvena, cooing and muttering assurances in her ear that everything was going to be okay.
Lucy pulled a funny face from across the boat, sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes over to appease the toddler.
Uh oh. Wrong thing to do. Bertram locked on her, screaming and kicking his tiny feet as if she was directly responsible for his hissy fit. He was right next to her, and tugged on her skirts hard enough to make her lose her balance and rock dangerously on the edge.
"Stop that," Etta warned firmly, pulling him away - but Bertram wouldn't hear of it. He shot back like he was on a mechanism and barrelled right into her. It was enough to make her lose her balance completely.
"No! No-"
It was all Lucy could do to free her hands at the last second and shove the toddler safely into the boat before she lost her balance and toppled from the boat, plunging into the icy water. Her body went into shock and her lungs dragged in as much air as they could before her head joined the rest of her in the water.
Every sound turned muffled, yells from the boat mere gargles, and all her brain could scream over and over again was -
I'm going to die.
I'm going to sink, and drown, and die.
Suddenly, Lucy was back in her car. She was pleasantly cozy, blasting John Denver as loud as the speakers would go. Her fingers tapped to the beat on the steering wheel.
This was the day she was going to tell her mother she was dropping out of college.
And she was pretty much terrified.
And because she was terrified, Lucy stupidly didn't notice the oil slick on the road. It was a tale she knew every detail of and recanted several times, to doctors and therapists and friends and family. It was strange to be thinking of it now.
She supposed the body did odd things when it was shutting down.
In her mind the car stopped, frozen in time. The music became garbled and slow.
Instantly, her hands were her own. She could control them just fine, and slowly lifted them from the wheel.
Lucy peered out onto the road ahead. Through the glass, she could see the headlights illuminating the concrete, rain from earlier glistening like crystal in its glare. There was no oil slick to be seen. Lucy frowned. That wasn't right...
Without warning, the car reanimated and she was thrown back into her seat. It span of its own accord into a perfect arc, breaking through tall grass and reeds and flying into the lake that neighboured the road.
The freezing water was up to Lucy's waist before she could register what had happened. Her lungs forgot how to breathe and hands couldn't find the seatbelt. The lights crackled off one by one until she was stuck in darkness. She couldn't even open the window. She was going to die here, she was going to die here and there was nothing she could do about it-
Then the car door opened, sending another wave of water inside.
Strong hands hooked themselves under her armpits and pulled. She didn't get a clear look at her saviours face as they waded out of the lake, but she heard his voice -
"You're safe now. You just slipped on some oil slick, that's all."
Lucy couldn't focus on anything but adrenaline, body numbed by the freezing water that prickled her skin and drenched her hair.
"What?" She babbled, sitting up and looking around wildly. The man backed away towards shadowy figures in the distance.
"There's an ambulance coming."
"A - what?"
He was already gone.
It didn't seem to be a problem at the time that there were no other cars on the road, or that a fresh puddle of oil sat, unmarred, just where her car had driven.
And she could still feel those hands pulling her up, up, up, the icy water constricting her veins, could still hear the man's voice...
"Lucy!"
How did he know her name?
"Lucy!"
Lucy opened her eyes. She stopped thrashing.
"Garcia-"
Her voice was barely a voice anymore, but she found herself back in the ocean, wobbling on the side of the boat, gasping for air and soaked through to her bones.
A jacket was wrapped around her faster than she could move, and Flynn's arms held it tight.
"Breathe," he urged. She breathed.
"You're safe now. You're safe."
Lucy wriggled enough to look at him, eyes wide and heart racing. "How were you-"
"How was I what?"
"...There," she finished in a whisper, scanning his face for answers. He looked at her like he was worried she'd gone mad. "Nevermind."
"I'm so sorry!" Etta, now restraining both the toddler and the baby, cried.
"It's alright," Lucy chattered out, if only because her face was crumpling up about as much as her children's. But Lucy couldn't think about that right now. Every single vein in her body was full of ice. A layer it felt like it sat in the surface of her skin, seeping into her insides. She didn't know now how a person's fingernails or eyes or hair could feel cold but here she was. And her mind raced with residual adrenaline, a mess of thoughts all to do with that night...
Whispers started up, and she could only gape at the sight she beheld, face gaunt. Every last one of the Titanic's golden lights had blinked out.
The dark ocean felt much more terrifyingly vast all of a sudden.
---
It was far too late to be awake. Flynn was pulled away to row the lifeboat and Lucy could only stare, not daring to move lest she disturb her soaking clothes and the shivers started again.
Nobody spoke when the whole of the Titanic itself then snapped in half with that terrible noise, or when they saw the shooting blurs and splashes of those left aboard as the ship sank excruciatingly slowly. She'd felt the cold for a single second and hadn't thought she'd survive. You could only handle so long before...
She squeezed her eyes shut before that thought could finish, finding that the salty tears squeezed from them were a welcome heat source. The movie always made her ugly cry, but catching the live show only made her numb.
This kind of thing wasn't something you could prepare for even if you had decades. But some time later, through her eyelashes, she saw a flicker of light in the distance and her eyes snapped up. She shook with the effort of moving her stuff limbs.
Another light sparked and this time it was unmistakably a rocket. Her heart started to beat faster, fuelled by hope.
"What time is it?" Lucy whispered to the boat, voice unexpectedly hoarse.
Someone she didn't know called over - some time near three in the morning. That had to make them the Carpathia rockets. Not only had their distress calls made it through, but it was early!
Flynn caught her eye, and despite themselves, they managed a shared smile.
All it said was finally - finally they'd made it. Finally they were getting rescued.
And finally, once the Carpathia reached the shores of New York, they could go home.
---
Lucy didn't care if the coffee she was given as soon as she boarded scalded her tongue or burnt her fingers. She couldn't get the warmth into her fast enough. It was surprisingly easy to convince all the people running around with lists on the Carpathia that their names were Rose and Jack, provided they didn't start laughing halfway through.
Flynn lay on the floor of the dining room beside her, completely out of it after hours of rowing himself ragged. The third class area where they took shelter was cramped but it was where they were most likely to be unnoticed. Besides, it meant they were warmer.
Weights dragged down her eyelids. She let them droop, thankful for the first chance of rest in twenty four hours...
"Bess?"
She jerked back to consciousness to see none other than Margaret peering over her and scrambled upright in fright.
"Margaret!" She smiled, "I'm glad to see you're alright."
"You too!"
She held out a hand to help Lucy up which she really tried not to take. It was insistent, however, and Margaret wrapped her up in a pleasant hug. "We were just doing rounds to see if there was anything we could help with."
She stopped and surveyed her for a moment.
Please don't ask please don't ask please don't ask -
"Would you like to help?"
"I'd love to!"
Bugger.
---
Daylight had never made Lucy curse her job more.
After running about taking care of the passengers with Margaret and her possy for hours on end, Lucy finally had a spare minute and flopped her way up onto the deck where she hoped to find a nice, empty spot of floor. There wasn't much of it going around.
She looked around at the dense clumps of passengers, squinting across. Huh. That was Flynn.
She blinked confusedly, brain taking its time to translate what she saw and make sense of it. There was no Etta to be seen, but he was cradling Millvina snugly in his arms as he kept on eye on Bertram. Hmm.
Interesting - if she listened really, really carefully, she could just about hear the sound of her ovaries screaming.
She made her way over, picking her way through all the clutter on the deck. Bertram was sleeping peacefully in front of him, thank God, so she quietly sank down to sit beside him. Relaxing never felt so relaxing.
"Hi," she smiled, "I didn't realise you were awake."
"This little guy won't let me sleep, will you?" He cooed down at the baby, who blinked up at him with clueless blue eyes.
"Where's Etta?"
"I don't think her husband made it. She's not - not doing too well."
Lucy gazed sadly down at Millvina.
"She'll be the last person on this ship alive, and she doesn't even know it."
"You know you probably saved hundreds of lives tonight? Maybe someone else will be."
"Maybe," she murmured. "But even after everything we did, nothing was different. It still hit the iceberg no matter what we did. People still died."
"Maybe it's like what Jiya said and some things just can't be changed."
She made a hmm-ing noise and tipped her head back, staring up at the fluffy clouds that floated overhead. The calmness she felt was unnatural. They'd just been through hell, and she was here sitting still soaking up the weak sun. But maybe, Lucy reminded herself, she deserved some sun.
"Lucy-" he said abruptly, and she focused on him again to see his face serious. "You should know - those nights - if you were just scared then it's alright."
Those nights - did he mean sleeping with him? Because she was scared?
"When did I say that?"
Then it dawned on her. She hadn't said it - she'd written it. Damn diary. "Oh."
He nodded, suddenly very focused on adjusting Millvinas swaddle. She sidled up to him until their arms brushed.
"I'm not scared."
Flynn met her gaze, scanning her eyes. Tone verging on hopeful when he seemed to find nothing but truth in them, he asked huskily, "no?"
She shook her head almost imperceptibly, face now very close to his. "No."
Lucy couldn't take it anymore and closed the distance, their kiss somehow worlds away from the Titanic. It was so much sweeter, embellished with the promise of something more beyond it.
She broke the promise off lightheaded and dizzy.
"Just to get our stories straight," he said, voice off-pitch enough that she grinned, "what story are we telling everyone back at the bunker?"
The bunker. Right - that still existed.
"I dunno. It's all new, so... Maybe we just keep it quiet?"
"Agreed. Plus, we have four days here before we have to worry about them."
Lucy nodded sleepily and guided her way down so her head was on his lap. Maybe now she could finally just have a nice, calm rest, and -
"I'm starting to worry about where Etta's gone," Flynn said.
Lucy let out a long warbling groan somewhere along the lines of frustrated seal.
"I can go," Flynn offered, clearly amused by the utter absence of energy.
"No, look, Millvina's already asleep," Lucy strained herself upright. "I'll go find her."
She wriggled upright though she almost completely lost her momentum when she felt him quickly kiss the crown of her head and her brain melted into a puddle.
Four days? She'd kill for five.
---
The feeling of her feet on solid ground after all that time was bittersweet. Lucy'd been surprised at her sea legs, but the disadvantage of being so used to it came when she tried to hurry away from the press clamouring for interviews and she wobbled all the way down the harbour. At least her dress covered up most of the missteps.
Flynn and Lucy dodged anyone with a notepad or a camera, trying to wait and see if Wyatt and Rufus ever bothered to show up. It would get a whole lot more inconvenient otherwise.
"Bess," she heard someone say from behind her. Margaret.
Did this woman track her or something?
She didn't look as happy as usual, and Lucy was put immediately on edge. "Hello," she said as warmly as she possibly could. She peered over her shoulder to see Madeleine and Jack hounded by press, and before she could stop herself said monotonously, "oh - he survived."
"Thanks to you," Margaret bowed, and Flynn half-smiled, half-grimaced.
"It was an accident, believe me."
He dodged out of the way of a camera with more speed than would have been necessary, sweeping Lucy out of its way. Margaret's eyes narrowed, watching them both.
"You're not Houdini, are you?"
Ah. Right to the point then.
With a wide-eyed look from Lucy, he shook his head. It wouldn't do to lie to Margaret Brown. "No. No, I'm not."
She braced herself for the incoming onslaught of negativity, ready to run.
"I thought you were too tall."
He eased up and laughed, a welcome sound to hear.
"And I take it you're not Louise's cousin, either?"
"I've never met her in my life. I'm sorry."
Margaret shook her head good-naturedly. "That's probably for the best."
It was Lucy's turn to laugh, albiet a little sadly. It always hurt having to leave someone she knew she'd be friends with if only they were both born at the right time.
"I was looking forward to seeing your show one day, too," she sighed, staring dreamily off into the distance. Lucy received a sudden strike of inspiration.
"Hold on," she muttered, feeling around for that pad of paper and pen that was in Flynn's jacket. She scribbled down a hurried note. "If you ever go and see it - and you should, it's really wonderful - tell him this is from Lucy Preston and Garcia Flynn." She handed the note to a thoroughly confused Margaret who repeated their names under her breath, memorising them.
"So you do know Houdini? Who are you?"
She shrugged. "Just stowaways who got lucky."
Flynn pointed out a clump of reporters working their way towards them. "We should go," he murmured, and Lucy nodded, welling up.
"Goodbye," she hugged her tightly around the shoulders, hiding her face. "Thank you for all your help."
Margaret didn't look any less confused as she released her and they wove away, disappearing into the sea of people until they were just any other heads.
"What'd you write on there?" He asked, clutching her hand so she didn't get lost in the throng as they struggled their way through. She shrugged nonchalantly.
"Just a hello."
"You know I don't believe you."
"Wise choice."
He laughed, and even though they were clear of the thick crowd, squeezed her hand. Lucy couldn't help a smile, but then he dropped it like a stone. "Hey," he said slowly, "isn't that the guy?"
Lucy looked up - and all decked in uniform before them was indeed their number one suspect. The same one who'd taken them to Emma's room, and argued with her over the lifeboats. 'Number one suspect' didn't say much seen as she didn't have proof beyond a murky feeling, but when he looked up and caught their eye, he sped up nervously.
"Looks like it," she muttered, pulling Flynn along faster after him.
The man kept checking over his shoulder, and on seeing them close in, slipped down an alleyway. It was almost a shame that shady alleyways were Flynn's bread and butter by now. He ploughed ahead before he could escape and Lucy jogged behind, coming up in time to see Flynn tackle him to a wall and hold up a gun to stop him struggling. She tried her best to replicate his menacingness, squaring her shoulders and squeezing up her forehead.
"What did Emma offer you, huh?" She demanded, looming over him. He was younger than she'd thought, fresh-faced with not a single hair to call a mustache.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Ginger, freckles, the one who told you to what - try to kill us?"
That got him sweating. "She didn't-"
Lucy reached her hands into his pockets, and he quickly went silent. She pulled out random bits of paper and string until she reached into his breast pocket.
Flynn whistled lowly when she pulled out a stack of four clean cut photos - her, Flynn, Wyatt, and Rufus. She should've known all along there was something off about him.
"Where did you get these?" She asked, voice deadly. His eyes darted between Flynn's gun and her face. He seemed to decided a change of tack was in order.
"She told me all I had to do was stop you all from interfering."
"For what? Rittenhouse?"
"I've never heard that word in my life," he whimpered, voice breaking at an unfortunate moment, "look, she threatened my family. She knew everything about them, where they live... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"
Lucy believed him. A sleeper would have gotten it over and done with. So she shook her head at Flynn. It wasn't him - it was all Emma. He already had to live with the weight of the Titanic on his back. He didn't need a black eye, too. Flynn released him.
"Get out of here," Flynn growled, and he was already scrambling away the way he'd come as fast as his legs could take him. She watched him leave with a frown.
"I don't get it," she muttered, and Flynn would have said something were it not for the distant 'woah!' they heard from the two figures that blocked out the sun and dodged out of the way of the crewman.
She squinted. And then a small, broken noise escaped from her throat. Lucy tore down the street like she'd never ran before and collided with them, throwing her arms around their necks and squeezing.
Rufus almost keeled over with the sudden force.
"You're alive!" Wyatt choked into her hair, and Lucy looked at them both, unexpectedly teary-eyed.
"And you're here!"
"Woah, Diana Ross," Rufus chuckled, blowing her curls from his face. "We couldn't remember the date. We've been here for a week. Sleeping rough in the nineteen tens isn't as luxurious as you'd think."
"The Titanic wasn't either. The ocean? Not super comfortable."
"Meanwhile, we have the Ritz waiting for us back home!"
Even the prospect of returning to the bunker couldn't dull Lucy's joy. "Home," she sighed, squeezing them tighter. "Finally."
---
The lifeboat landed with a wheezing clank. All of them pulled off their seatbuilts, deflating and sighing in unison.
Then there was quiet.
"Who's going out first?"
They exchanged foreboding glances, each of them shouting not me over the other.
"Oh, come on," Flynn muttered under his breath, and punched the button to open the door.
The usual happened - hugs exchanged, a few happy hellos, and then Flynn awkwardly extracted himself from Jiya in the manner of a proud housecat not quite knowing what to do with sudden affection. They were all a sight for sore eyes, even while the sudden artificial white light made everything seem extremely off.
"How long have we been gone?" He asked, looking at Agent Christopher.
"I don't know, a day?"
Rufus coughed. "Try seven."
Her nostrils flared, and Lucy could've sworn she saw tiny puffs of steam come out of them. "What? You got on the Titanic? Do you know how unbelievably stupid-"
"Oh, we didn't. They did."
Agent Christopher stared at her, and Lucy shifted guiltily. "We survived, didn't we?" She muttered in a tiny voice. She felt like she'd been caught sneaking home late.
"Flynn I'd expect this from, but really, Lucy?"
Flynn didn't have enough shame to look guilty. It was a valid point.
"I thought I saw Emma get on so we followed her."
Agent Christopher's brows knitted together. "What was Emma doing there?"
"We don't know. There wasn't a sleeper, just some guy she blackmailed to 'make sure we didn't interfere'."
"So you two were lured alone onto the Titanic with no Emma, no sleepers, and nothing was changed?"
Lucy could feel all the eyes pinned on her back. "Pretty much," she shrugged weakly. Agent Christopher eyed her for a long moment before at last turning away. Lucy finally scratched the itch on her nose that had been bothering her for that whole exchange. Logically, nobody could know, but Lucy felt like she had 'I slept with Flynn' written across her forehead in Sharpie.
"Alright, then. What do you make of this?"
They flocked to the computers, and Lucy stared at it blankly. The Mothership had jumped to a handful of places and times that meant absolutely nothing to her.
"No idea."
"Anyone?"
There were a few shrugs and grunts.
She glanced at Flynn. "What about you?"
He didn't move. He didn't even look up.
"Flynn?"
He turned to Agent Christopher without his face moving a muscle.
"Do you recognise the name Lorena?"
She hesitated and everybody watched with bated breath.
Lucy heart fell when she looked at him with a completely clueless expression. "Should I?"
His eyes closed. "What about Iris?"
Still she turned out blank. His fists clenched.
"My wife? My daughter?"
Hearing wife left a sticky feeling in Lucy's ears that she made herself shake off to pay attention.
"You're married?" Jiya, completely bewildered, asked from the sidelines.
"The first date it jumped to - that was her birthday," he said lowly, eyes still looking for any trace of recognition at all in their faces.
Lucy didn't know what the hell she was meant to do, or look like, or say, when after a tiny shake of Jiya's head, he turned on his heel and left without a word.
A few seconds of silence, and there was the distant heavy clank of a door closing.
Her hand shook at her side.
"You didn't know he was married?"
"He wasn't, Lucy," Agent Christopher said frankly.
Wyatt stepped in, looking as confused as she felt. "Then how are we here? Them being killed is why he stole the Mothership in the first place and started this whole thing. It was all to save them."
"That was a cover," Lucy responded, face slack. "When I went back from the future I told him he wouldn't get them back. He knew that from the beginning, so they didn't change anything."
Agent Christopher lagged behind. "But if they thought that meant Flynn never stole the Mothership, then... There would be no Hindenburg, meaning Lucy's mother would never come back. That's an awfully big risk to take."
"Unless it's not a risk. Unless they have the diary," Lucy paled, "then they know exactly what they can get away with."
"If they have the diary, shouldn't we all be dead right now?"
"Everything's gone so off the rails that I doubt it would be much help, but... The things I might've written in there," Lucy went pale. She'd written about kissing Flynn. What other details had been included?
"So what's the point of doing something that will change nothing?" Agent Christopher demanded.
Suddenly it was all too obvious. "They've pulled another Amy."
"What? This whole thing - just to hurt him?"
Lucy wasn't sure if she nodded or not then.
All she could think was of course.
The Titanic was an all too perfect ruse. All Emma had to do was play on Lucy's hatred for her to be followed and then leave her to stew, unable to interfere and unable to make chase when she jumped. Lucy could kick herself.
But Flynn... Oh God, what about Flynn? He'd lost his family not just once but twice... The only thing to be gained by erasing Lorena was Flynn's pain. And if she knew about them, then Lucy's pain, too.
Her mouth went dry.
"I'm going to check on him," she said and without waiting to hear any protests walked like a zombie down the corridor. She could still hear them whispering to eachother behind her.
Her fist hovered hesitantly above his door. Just knock. Just knock!
They'd gotten so far. This wouldn't change anything. Except it already has and everything's gone to fuck.
She forced herself to knock, sharp and short.
There was a sniffle from inside. "Who is it?"
"It's me," she called back softly, already having made the decision that if he told her to go, she would be gone in an instant. She waited.
"Come in."
Lucy edged open the door bit by bit, heart falling another mile when she took in the sight behind it.
Flynn sat on the bed, eyes rimmed with red and clothes piled beside him that showed an abandoned struggle to change. Instead, his shirt was ruffled, shoes kicked off to the other side of the room, and hair an absolute mess.
Lucy felt ridiculous sitting beside him with all her frilled out skirts.
Silently, she put her arms around him, staring down at the blankets behind him.
"I'm so sorry," was all Lucy could whisper.
He heaved a shaky breath, holding her tightly.
"How did you - get through this?"
"I'll let you know when I manage to."
He let out a broken sort of laugh.
"Hey, one day, we'll get back the people we love. Together. I promise."
He pulled back a little. "Could I really bring them back just to die?"
That was a difficult question to answer, and one she'd asked herself over again and again. "I think it's better they get to spend some time with the people they love and the people who love them... Even if it's short. Keep their memory alive."
He nodded a tiny, broken nod.
"Should I go?" If things had changed between them, maybe he'd want her to... Even if her chest panged at the thought.
"No, could you - stay? Just for five minutes?"
She managed a weak smile. Exactly what she'd asked him on the Titanic. She couldn't say no. She desperately didn't want to, either.
Maybe it was a complete coincidence they'd found eachother or maybe it was kismet, but either way, Lucy was glad. For all the twisted timelines of bars and now apparently pulling her out of a lake, she was glad. No matter what happened now.
"I'll go get some pyjamas," Lucy groaned at the thought of having to trek all the way to her room. "I can't sleep in this thing all night."
"I don't think that'll be a problem."
She looked at him, confused, only to follow his finger to see all of her belongings piled around the other bed. Huh. She hadn't noticed those.
Her foot nudged aside the threadbare rug and she peeled it all the way up. Huh. The floor had shiny areas where the beds had been pushed together and then pulled apart so many times - daily, she'd wager - that the strips of floor between their frames were perfectly silver.
Lucy raised her eyebrows.
"I guess some things changed."
---
Preface - Yes, I absolutely did have to include the Houdinis, because I would sell my soul for them. Anyway, Houdini died way in the future due to appendicitis likely as a result of letting himself get punched just to show he could. You'll get that in a sec.
Bess Houdini
Bess finally found Harry backstage, surrounded by a precarious pile of props that had been used for today's performance. She bounced in, practically vibrating with the effort of not immediately spilling what she had to say. He turned at the sound of her footsteps with a smile curving his mouth up. "What is it?"
Oh, he was going to love this.
Bess perched herself on an upturned prop suitcase.
"A lady in the audience stayed back, congratulated me on a good show, said she wanted to give me something. I thought she wanted it signed but she told me it was from - get this -" she raised her hands theatrically- "a married couple called Lucy and Garcia."
Harry's eyes bulged from his head and he dropped what he was doing in an instant.
"Lucy Preston? Garcia Flynn? You're sure?"
Bess nodded, unable to contain her excitement. The suitcase wobbled beneath her.
"Married?"
"That's what she said."
"Good for him," he marvelled, then stopped to consider. "Not so good for her."
"And," Bess interrupted, eyes sparkling, "she said she met them on the Titanic!"
"That ship that sank?" Bess waited for his brain to catch up. "Oh! They were the ones who said they were me!" He got there eventually. "Bastards," he laughed fondly. "What did they have to say for themselves, then?"
She cleared her throat, unfolding the bit of paper. "Don't let anyone punch you in the abdomen," she read, utterly confused, "and Bess - take him to hospital if he does, from Lucy, x."
He stared at the hurried note with an eyebrow hooked up. "Is it some sort of code?"
"I don't know, are you planning on getting punched in the abdomen?"
"I can handle any blow there," he said, folding his arms defensively.
She held up the letter in rebuttal. "Apparently Lucy doesn't think so. And if there's one magic trick I want to know, it's how she knew my name before you did."
"Alright," he sighed heavily like it was a great hindrance, "I promise I won't let anyone punch me in the abdomen."
He picked up the suitcase she'd been sitting on and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek, ready to deliver the prop onstage.
"And I promise I'll bring you to hospital when you do!" She called after him, laughing. A passing member of the stage crew gave her a funny look for that one.
Harry turned back, grinning ear to ear, and jokily waved once before he vanished behind the curtain.