When Do We Go From Here?

Charter 2 - Wyatt's New Reality

Something was definitely burning. By the time that fact had registered in my currently overstretched brain, Rufus was already reaching for the fire extinguisher.

“Wyatt?! Dude?! I gave you one job, man. Flip the damn pancakes!”

Rufus and I had become much closer these last few weeks. I guess multiple escapes from death and no contact with the outside world can do that to a couple of bros. Even as he was standing behind me, elbowing me out of his way so he could spray the stove top with the extinguisher’s foam, I could tell the obscenities that were streaming from his mouth were coming from a place of love.

Or not. Maybe he was just pissed.

When I snapped back into reality and realized what was happening, I laughed out loud. “Oh, man…I'm sorry. Here, let me do that.”

I relieved Rufus of the extinguisher and continued to hit the flames that were burning the cheap, Teflon pan with light bursts of foam until all signs of the fire had subsided. When I turned around, Rufus was just staring at me - stack-jawed and confused.

“One. Job.” is all he could manage to say.

As I walked past him to put the extinguisher back in its place, I pat him on the shoulder. “I'm sorry, Rufus. I'll start over. I've got this.”

“Do you?” Rufus asked, a tone of real questioning in his voice. “I know you're happy Lucy is back – God knows I am, too. But you haven't really, um, 'been here’ since we got back from France.”

There was no denying, he was right. For the past 6 weeks, I had been obsessed with getting Lucy back. After the explosion at Mason Industries, we had been hastily sequestered into the bunker we were to reside in for an undermined amount of time. Agent Christopher had done her best to assure me that there were trying to get intel on Lucy's whereabouts, but I knew Lucy was with Rittenhouse. I gave off this tough guy bravado and kept everyone at a distance because, if I'm being honest, I was afraid that I had lost everything. Again.

Everyone had given me a pretty wide birth while adjusting to life in the bunker. I kept to myself – working out a couple times a day, watching the news. Always listening. Always planning. It was quiet and solitary. The biggest excitement was when Giya would have one of her episodes. As terrible as it sounds, I would feel relieved when Giya had an attack. It gave me purpose – something to keep my mind busy. I'd let Rufus and Connor pour over her, making sure she was okay, while I would get her water and a snack. I’d grab a pillow if I thought she was going to need to rest. Who was I kidding? That woman never wanted to rest. It was back to work, constantly. She was nearly as stubborn and as dedicated as Lucy.

Lucy.

Had I dreamed it? Did we go get her and bring her back? Was she here? Now? In this bunker with us? The weeks had dragged on and suddenly, the plan I had hatched came to fruition. The events of the search and rescue happened ever so quickly. But I knew it had happened. She was in my arms last night. I could still smell her perfume on my shirt. Still feel her hand on my face. She was alive, and all I could think about was getting her back in my arms again.

Rufus could sense that I was struggling. He had even asked me to admit that I loved her when we were on our last mission. I took the pan off the stovetop and moved over to the sink, turning in the hot water and dousing the pan with soap.

“What can I do to help?” Rufus asked me, out of earshot of the others.
I scrubbed the pan, never looking him in the eye. “How did you know?” I asked him quietly.

“How did I know what?” he asked. I think he was still confused about my lack of pancake-flipping prowess.
“You asked me to admit that I loved Lucy. Back when we were in France,” I said, almost whispering. “How did you know that?”

Rufus sighed, then he smiled.

“I have been the witness to all the great Wyatt and Lucy moments. I have had the advantage of watching you both from afar. Maybe you haven't seen it within yourself because you've been so inside your own head. But I've seen the smoldering looks, the light touches, the playful banter. I've seen everything that you've been feeling since before you knew you felt it.”

I stopped scrubbing the pan and put it down in the sink, turning to Rufus and meeting this eyes.

“Does she…” I hesitated, unable to finish the sentence.

“Does she, what?” Rufus encouraged me to continue.

“Does she love me?” I asked, weakly.
At that moment, Lucy came into the kitchen. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Suddenly, I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I began scrubbing the already clean pan.

This conversation would clearly have to wait. For now, as Rufus had so succinctly deduced, I had one job.

“Who wants pancakes?” I asked, as I returned the pan to the stovetop.

Lucy met my eyes and smiled. I realized Rufus was right, I had one job: to make that woman smile every day for the rest of our lives.