When Wyatt came to, there were a few things he noticed right away.
Number one? He was no longer at Mason Industries.
The white washed walls and fluorescent lighting were his first, and most obvious, clue. Then, there was the matter of the constant beeping of the monitors and the dull, full-body ache now making itself known.
He felt fairly confident in assuming he was in a hospital. How he’d gotten there was another issue entirely.
The second thing he’d noticed was Rufus standing at the window to his right, looking excessively pensive and far too weathered for Wyatt’s liking.
He called to his friend but the pilot’s name came out as a rasped grumble. It did the job, however, as Rufus’ attention immediately swung to where Wyatt lay in bed.
“You’re awake. That’s great,” he said, crossing the room.
Like a practiced caregiver, Rufus reached for a small plastic cup and began to fill it with water. Wyatt watched closely as his friend tilted his head and raised his brows in suggestion before handing him the cup.
“For a while there, we didn’t think you would make it.”
The soldier took the cup, nodding his thanks, and sipped.
“Do you remember anything?”
He did. Bits and pieces. But Wyatt didn’t answer right away. His gaze had found a second figure gracing his tiny, little room.
She was curled up, asleep, in the corner chair. There was a thin, pebbled blanket draped haphazardly over her and a frown seemingly permanently etched into her features.
“She was the one that found you.”
Wyatt’s gaze jerked back towards Rufus, an action he immediately regretted.
Rufus’ lips thinned, his hands shoved into his pockets as he shrugged, his own attention on Lucy.
“I don’t know details, man. Christopher hasn't told me much. And Luce won't talk really at all.”
Wyatt closed his eyes against the headache forming.
He’d been about to go after Lucy when he had heard the shots. Even then, Wyatt had warred against himself. Gunfire within Mason Industries had surely meant that Lucy could be in danger. He had worried once she didn’t return within her allotted hour, had growled and paced when she still hadn’t shown up after two. He was walking towards the parking lot upon the third hour when the chaos had broken loose.
In the end, the soldier in him couldn’t leave.
“I’ve been back and forth between your room and Jiya’s,” Rufus continued, pulling Wyatt from his memories. “Lucy’s refused to leave. We can’t even get her to go home to take a shower.”
The pilot sighed.
“She’s talked to me more than anyone else but, even then..."
Wyatt ran a hand down his face, wincing at the pull in his side.
“What’s the damage?”
“To you…? Well, you were shot several times so there’s the muscle and tissue damage…”
“Not me, Rufus,” he gritted out testily.
“Right. You meant…got it.
Well, uhh…we missed something. A very big something obviously. Because Rittenhouse is still…well…Rittenhouse. The mothership’s gone and, with Flynn now in custody, there’s really no telling what it’s being used for. Although, I’m fairly certain we can all make a few accurate wild guesses…”
“But nothing’s changed yet, right?”
Rufus shrugged dejectedly.
“Who’s to know? Unless we’re time-traveling ourselves, we’re not exactly safe from the changes.”
A beep sounded from Rufus' pocket and the pilot's attention immediately shifted.
"I need to get back to Jiya, man. You okay here?"
Wyatt gave a small smile and nodded.
"Okay. Text or call if you need anything. I'm just a floor down," he said, turning towards the door, pausing at the sight of Lucy again. "Maybe once she sees you're okay....?"
Wyatt heard Rufus' sigh and watched the man leave his room. His own gaze lingered over the small frame curled up in the chair before he let his eyes fall closed and let the exhaustion take over.
Just as he was about to succumb to sleep, a sad whisper echoed through the room.
"This was all my fault, Wyatt. You're here because of me..."
He wanted to tell her exactly how crazy she sounded but sleep won out instead. It was okay though. He'd set the record straight soon enough.