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Every time I’m walkin’ down the streets
Some pretty mama starts breakin’ down with me
Stop breakin’ down, yes stop breakin’ down
The stuff I got’ll bust your brains out, baby
Ooh, it’ll make you lose your mind

Lucy Preston lies on the old 1950s black Kem Weber sofa staring at the ceiling of this old decrepit bunker. If anyone saw her right now they would think that she is struggling to deal with the fallout of Wyatt and Jessica, but truth be told, she is not. She cannot stop thinking about her conversation with Garcia Flynn in the car on their last mission in Texas.

I guess what I was trying to say back there is that I’d like to get to know you, but I understand if you don’t want that.

She is not stupid. She read right into the subtext of what he was saying. Yes, he does want to get to know her, the real Lucy Preston, not just Journal Lucy Preston, but Garcia Flynn said it in such a way that it took on another meaning: I like you, Lucy, and I want to be with you, but I am not sure if you could love me in the way that I so obviously love you, please give me a chance.

The loss of his family, and all the horrible things he has done to try to destroy Rittenhouse and bring them back alive, have taken a toll on his rugged features, but in that moment, he showed vulnerability, and he looked youthful, his features soft. It endeared him to her so she chose to open up to him too, to let him get to know her better. She too wants to get to know the man whom she will later give her personal journal to. She is a very private person, and the fact that she will give him her journal indicates to her that they will get to know each other intimately.

It was not lost on her how his eyes lit up when she told him how her mother would also sing I Wished on the Moon, and about the strawberry shampoo Amy used to use, and how the smell of it would have her dreaming of milkshakes all night. He knew that she had accepted his request to get to know her better, and in turn she wanted to get to know him too.

It did, however, surprise her that he apologized for what happened to Amy.

I never intended that to happen, your sister disappearing. I never wanted to hurt you, Lucy.

She had never blamed him for what happened. She blamed Rittenhouse.

Lucy has not had the chance to talk about Amy or share memories of her with anyone. After they got back from the Hindenburg, she was immediately called back to Mason Industries to chase after Flynn again. After that, no one asked her about Amy (at least not in a way that would let her reminisce about her), and she figured she did not want to burden them with her grief, so she shoved it aside and did her best to keep moving forward. Ever since her accident where she almost drowned she has approached her life to always keep moving forward, never to step backward.

In the car with Flynn, that was the first time she spoke of a memory of her sister, and he cared to listen to her. His ability to just listen to her touched her deeply. He was interested in hearing her story about Amy, and the rest of the drive to Robert Johnson’s sister’s bar, they exchanged stories about Amy, and he about Lorena and his little girl, Iris. It was eye-opening to hear him speak as a loving father and husband, to see his eyes light up when he talked about playing with Barbie dolls with his little girl and teaching her how to ride a bike as Lorena filmed them with her phone from the front porch of their home.

There is something special about Flynn. He has the ability to put her at ease where she feels comfortable speaking to him about personal things. It never felt appropriate to talk to Wyatt about Amy, in the back of her mind she was comparing her loss to his losing Jessica. In her mind, the loss of a spouse to murder was a hundred times worse than losing a sister because of time travel.

Then again, Flynn lost his wife and daughter to murder, and he is open to talking about them, and hearing her talk about Amy, and it does not feel inappropriate. She figures that he is moving on, letting them go, even if he does not know that is what is happening.

Sure, she and Wyatt talked once about the circumstances in which they missed out on their high school prom, but it was not the same as sharing stories about lost loved ones with Flynn.

Garcia Flynn is different. He gives off the feeling that he could and would talk for hours with her about anything and nothing at all. His intellect, she admits, is very attractive. He always has his nose stuck in a book or attempting to discuss historical events with others in the bunker (without much success since everyone is still struggling to see him as one of them). Mostly though, he keeps to himself.

Now I just think that you’re sad, and you’re lonely. I think you’re a broken person who misses the people that they love, just like me…

She replays her words to him over and over in her head. They are both broken people who miss the people they love. They were both sad and lonely, until that night. She saw a whole new side of him. A side of him that knew how to laugh, to smile, and to enjoy himself. She genuinely found herself enjoying being in his company. He made her smile. He made her forget everything going on with Wyatt. He allowed her to have her own voice, and he listened to her.

She holds her hand to her head, deep in thought about everything. How angry Flynn made her in that hotel room when he told her that he felt like sometimes he knows her better than she knows herself, how it felt to be swooped up in his arms and held tightly against his chest when the Rittenhouse sleeper agent shot at them in the stairwell, how he was humming along with I Wished on the Moon, how they talked about his wife and her sister, and how they sat at a table and truly just enjoyed being together listening to Robert Johnson record his music under Connor Mason’s direction, it really was a sight to behold.

She considers how she feels lying here on this couch. Sadness has consumed her once again, and she is lonely. She knows that she does not have to feel this way. Flynn’s room is just down the hallway.

I can’t walk the streets now, can’t consulate my mind
Some no-good woman she starts breakin’ down
Stop breakin’ down, please stop breakin’ down
The stuff I got gonna bust your brains out
Ooh, it’ll make you lose your mind

Lucy sits up and looks at the bottle of vodka on the table in front of her. She has not yet cracked into it. She knows that Flynn knows that she keeps a bottle of vodka under her bed, she knows that he knows she has been drinking alone, and she knows that he only brought it up so he could help her. That was his way of telling her “I’m here for you, you don’t have to go through this alone.”

She considers for a moment, then stands up and grabs the bottle, and heads down the hallway to his bunk. She walks slowly, running through her head the reasons she has for going to him now. She knows that she wants his help. She knows that he made her forget Wyatt and Jessica while they were in Texas in 1936. She knows that he made her smile and laugh again. She knows that he made her feel good. She knows she wants his company. She knows that right now he is the only one who understands her. She knows that she wants to get to know him better. And she knows that he wants to get to know her. She does not want to be sad and lonely tonight. She craves his companionship, his friendship.

Now, you Saturday night womens, you love to ape and clown
You won’t do nothin’ but tear a good man reputation down

She knocks seven times on Flynn’s door, and bites her lower lip in a moment’s hesitation, then settles her back against the wall next to the door frame and waits for him to answer. She rests her chin on top of the bottle of Kovrov vodka. The door opens, and she does not look to him immediately. She feels vulnerable. She hates feeling vulnerable. Instead of looking at him, her eyes stare down the hallway in the direction of Wyatt and Jessica’s bunk. For a second, she wonders what Wyatt would think if he saw her now, and a second later she knows that she does not care. This is her life, and she can do what she wants.

She can smell Flynn and feel his warmth. He does not smell of fragranced body wash or soap, his smell is distinctly Garcia Flynn with a slight hint of cinnamon. Already she feels better. He makes her comfortable. She needs to feel comfortable. Her entire world has fallen apart at the seams. She has lost everything, and the only damn person in this whole world who understands how that feels is standing right next to her. Why is it that just being near him makes her feel so fucking comfortable? It confuses her. She hates it, and she loves it, needs it, and tonight she craves to be near him.

Lucy turns her head to look up at Flynn. Their eyes meet and she knows that he is her rock. The one person she can rely on. He smiles at her, glances at her lips, and then his eyes fall on the vodka, and he gives a quiet laugh, indicating that he is happy to see her, and even relieved to see her show up with this bottle of vodka so she does not have to drink alone.

Stop breakin’ down, please stop breakin’ down
The stuff I got’ll bust your brains out, baby
Ooh, it’ll make you lose your mind

She turns into him as he steps aside to allow her entrance into his room, holding his left arm out to show her in. He does not step back as she passes him, and her left shoulder grazes his chest. Their close proximity does not bother either one of them, in fact she gets the feeling that he would do anything to be able to be close to her physically. He slowly closes the door behind them, with that Garcia Flynn smile on his face. She has come to love his smile.

Her back is still to him as she hears the door shut. She looks around his bunk, it is smaller than the other bunks in this facility. That seems so quintessentially Garcia Flynn to her. He comes off as a man who needs only the small things in life to get by. He has a few books tucked away in the cubby holes of the wall, a torn-up leather chair which is placed in front of some old broken-down computer monitor.

She turns around to face him. Honestly, she does not know what to expect nor what to say. She had no plan of action coming here other than to be near him. She looks at his bed it is made, its navy-blue blanket tucked in perfectly. She expected him to be tidy so this comes as no surprise. She looks at Flynn. He is standing there, his arms at his side looking at her with a small grin on his face. She holds up the bottle of vodka.

“Got any drinking glasses?”

He nods his head and walks past her and opens up a small locker and retrieves two whiskey glasses from it. Does he normally keep two glasses in his room, or did he know that she would come to him because her journal said she would?

She pops the cork off the bottle and pours them each half a glass full. She looks behind her and steps back and sits down on his bed. She looks up at him as she takes her first drink of the night, her eyes lock with his and he drinks as well.

She wonders why he is still standing.

She wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt and pats her hand on the bed next to her to let him know she wants him to sit next to her. He has not yet said a word, and she does not know what that means. Of course, she knows what it means, it means exactly what he said in the car. Anything that happens between the two of them will be on her terms. She came to his bunk. She wants to be with him. She wants to let him get to know her, and she wants to get to know him.

The most difficult thing in the world is to know where to begin.

“It was pretty amazing being able to be there when Robert Johnson recorded that album, wasn’t it?” She asks, breaking the ice.

A huge smile forms on his face and he laughs out loud, excitement in his eyes.

“The look on Mason’s face! He was like a child.” He takes another sip from his glass.

“In a candy store.” She smiles at him and finishes off her glass.

“I passed by his room a few minutes ago, Lucy, and heard him say ‘that’s my yeah’ as he listened to that song. I had to stop myself from laughing, didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.”

The smile plastered on Flynn’s face once again brings out a playfulness in his eyes. Until today, she had never seen a sincere smile on his face, nor heard him laugh at something because it was fun. Her heart swells with heartache as she realizes that he has probably not had this much fun, laughing and smiling, since he lost his family. She sets her empty whiskey glass down on the small table next to his bed and turns to face him. Her first instinct is to tell him how nice it is to see him enjoying himself, but she does not.

“I wonder if we listen carefully if we can hear him singing in his room?” He asks this somewhat seriously, but there’s so much playfulness in his tone of voice, he is still on an emotional high from earlier that night. He starts to stand up, but Lucy places her hand on his knee and he stops, and looks at her intently, concerned that he has missed cues as to why she has come to him tonight.

She looks at him as the smile slowly fades from his face. She has been quiet too long. He is probably worried for her now. She inches closer to him, again craving proximity to his body.

“How much have you had to drink?” He asks.

“Just the one glass.”

He does not raise an eyebrow or doubt her. Their friendship is based on trust and truth now. She has no reason to lie to him.

“Are you okay, Lucy?”

The concern in his voice pierces her heart. She loves the way her name rolls off his tongue.

“Couch isn’t very comfortable.”

“You can have my bed, it’s not a problem. I can take the couch.”

Lucy shakes her head, “no, you’re too tall for it anyway.” She quietly laughs.

“Why are you here?” He is blunt. “Just to drink or…?”

“I…” how does she explain that she craves his company tonight, “I umm… I just thought we could talk some more, get to know each other better.”

He is trying to hide it, but she sees his mouth curve just slightly upward into a smile.

“But I don’t want to talk shop. No time travel, no journal, no-”

“No Wyatt?” He is cautious in bringing up this name.

Lucy nods her head, “no Wyatt.”

He stands up and pours them both another glass of vodka, then sits down on the other side of her, closer to his pillow. Closer to her. He raises the glass to his lips and drinks.

“So… Flynn… what would you like to know about me?”



“You can call me Garcia, Lucy, I don’t mind.”

She raises her eyebrow. She had never considered calling him anything else other than “Flynn.”

“Everyone else calls me Flynn.” He pauses. “Flynn this, Flynn that. Don’t trust Flynn. Flynn tried to kill me. No gun for Flynn.” He pauses again and looks her in the eyes. “I don’t mind them calling me that, but…” He takes in a deep breath. “But I… I prefer Garcia from you. Flynn is that guy you chased through time. I’m not proud of who I was then, you know?”

Suddenly, Lucy wants to ask him why he asked Al Capone to shoot Rufus, or why he and his henchmen stranded them in 1754, why he shot at them with a Tommy Gun in 1934 when she and Wyatt went undercover to team up with Bonnie and Clyde, or why he grabbed her forcefully by the neck and threw her down in the theatre balcony when he assassinated President Lincoln, but she does not ask. She said no shop talk after all.

Plus… perhaps he knew from her journal that Rufus would not die, that they would find a way back home when they were stranded, and she did notice that he was aiming that Tommy Gun high during the shoot out (which makes it impossible to hit your target, she knows he was not aiming to kill them). But for a guy who claims to not have intended to hurt her, it still bothers her that he would be so forceful with her physically. She touches her neck where his hand had grabbed her.



“I said if you don’t feel comfortable calling me Garcia that it’s okay.” His eyes are that of a sad puppy dog.

“I know I said no shop talk, but… it’ll drive me mad if I don’t ask you this.”

“Ask me anything.”

“When you assassinated Lincoln, you…” She can’t bring herself to look at him. “… you… grabbed me and threw me…”

He immediately hangs his head in shame.

“Flynn it is then, huh?” Her words wounded him.

“No!” She did not mean to shout. “I… just… you said that you never wanted to hurt me, but when you did that… I was terrified, I thought you were going to crush my neck.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, hating the man he was when he began his mission to destroy Rittenhouse. He was a monster, but Lucy reached out to him, took hold of him, and dragged him up out of the darkness he so willingly threw himself into.

When she told him that he can decide to be something different and assured him that he could still be a father after all he had done, that was the moment that they really connected. She was seeing him at his worst, in the heart of his own darkness, and she still believed good resided in his heart, that he was still a good man, that he could still be a good father and husband one day.

He had a lot of time to think about what he had done and who he had become when he was in prison. He realized during one of his many sleepless nights that that moment with Lucy, stopping him from murdering a child, was a turning point in his feelings for her. She accepted him for who he had been, who he is, and who he could be. That moment was the moment he started to allow himself to fall in love with her.

He has been silent too long. He owes her an answer to her question, why did he hurt her the night he assassinated President Lincoln.

“I have no excuse, Lucy. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I… I didn’t know you were going to be there. I thought maybe Wyatt… my heart stopped when I saw you. I wanted you out of harm’s way. I didn’t know if anyone would use their gun to shoot at me, and if they did I didn’t want you to get hit so I had to throw you out of the way, Lucy. I threw you down to protect you.”

He looks up at her, with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. She still holds her hand to her neck where he nearly choked her, her mouth open. Shit. She did not want to dive so deep into anything serious tonight. She wanted to keep things light-hearted.


Hearing her say “Flynn” fills him with defeat. He looks away from her, feeling that he had only convinced himself that she had forgiven him for all he has done.

“Garcia…” Her voice is soft now, forgiving. She reaches out and touches his arm, dipping her head down to try to look him in the eyes. She moves closer to him, and touches the side of his face, lifting him to look into her eyes. “I forgive you.”

“I could never ask you to forgive me, Lucy.”

“You don’t have to. I already have.” She looks him in the eyes to assure him that she is honest. “I forgave you before Agent Christopher had you arrested, back when you told me that you were going to destroy Rittenhouse and my grandfather, when you told me because you said I deserved the truth.”

Lucy’s hand is still cupping his jaw, he places his own hand on hers and removes it, holding her hand in his. He brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles in a show of appreciation for her forgiveness.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

He looks up at her, and relief has washed over his face. He looks as if he has recovered from the worst emotional turmoil any man has ever had to endure. What is it about her that makes him this way? Why does he feel so deeply for her? It cannot just be because he spent so much time with her journal. There has to be another reason. She opens her mouth to try to form a question but says nothing.

They continue to hold onto each other’s hands for a few quiet moments. No words are needed to communicate their feelings for each other.

Without a word, he slowly stands up, letting go of her hand. He towers over her but is not intimidating. He points to the door, and says “I’ll be right back,” and leaves.

The door closes and she is alone. The emotion she felt as he held her hand was intense. She takes a deep breath to stop herself from crying, wiping the first traces of tears from her eyes. It felt good to tell him that she forgives him. She did not know that it would release this much emotion though.

She stands up and untucks her shirt and kicks off her shoes, and removes her jeans, folding them and placing them on the torn leather chair in the corner. She looks out the window the moon is full so she turns off the light in Garcia’s bunk, the light from the moon is enough to illuminate the room well enough. She goes back to his bed, pulls back the blanket and crawls in, and rests her head on his pillow. She is exhausted.

Her eyes fall on the bottle of vodka. She no longer feels the desire to continue drinking.

She has not had enough to be drunk, and she is not even tipsy. She just feels warm. She is not sure if that warmth is from the alcohol, or from being with Garcia.

Garcia… he asked her to call him by his first name. Does that mean she can do so in front of the others, or just when she and him are one-on-one? She smiles to herself. She honestly just wants it to be a thing between the two of them.

She hears water running from a faucet in the bathroom, and then footsteps making their way down the hall. The door to the bunk opens and Garcia walks back in, with a slight pause in his step as he sees that she has turned off all the lights.

“Lucy?” He pauses. “Are you… sleeping?” He whispers, not wanting to wake her if she is.

His asking if she is sleeping has a charming playfulness to it. Lucy smiles as she watches him make his way into the room. He looks down at her in his bed, her eyes are open and reflect the moonlight that is shining in. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

She watches him as he strips off the soft grey sweatshirt that he is wearing and throws it on top of her jeans on the chair, his back to her. He wears no shirt underneath it. His body is a silhouette against the moonlight shining into the room. And in that silhouette, she can make out the contour lines of his arms: his deltoids, triceps, biceps, his forearms… shoulder blades… she sighs aloud and he turns his head to glance at her. She catches herself staring at him as he retrieves a grey T-shirt from the foot of the bed… she is surprised that he does not have thick chest hair… his abs are well-defined, not a six-pack, but strong and lean nonetheless.

Lucy lets out a sigh. She had never before considered how attractive he is as a man, not until now.

He slips the T-shirt on and smiles at her and thank goodness the lights are out because she can feel her face flush with the embarrassment of being caught watching him. He sits down on the floor and rests his back up against the side of the bed.

“Lorena would do that too.” He turns his head to look at her.

“Do what?”

“Watch me… undress.” He winks at her.

Lucy diverts her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He allows a quiet moment before asking, “are you warm enough?”

“I guess so.”

He nods his head in that Garcia Flynn way that he does when he knows something more than the person he is speaking to. He stands up and opens another locker, and retrieves a grey blanket, and drapes it over her. Lucy watches him. His behavior with her is tender. She knows that he would never show this side of himself beyond the doors of this room.

“What about you?” She asks.

“What about me?”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

He motions with his hands to the floor, and immediately Lucy sits up, propping herself up on her elbow.

“No.” She objects. “If the Mothership jumps and you’re not well-rested-”

“It’s okay.”

He starts to try to sit down on the floor again, but Lucy sits straight up in bed, and grabs him by the arm. She came to him tonight because she wanted him, wanted him for comfort, for friendship, someone to talk to. And though she cannot say it aloud, she wants him to hold her, to just be with her tonight.

“I insist.” She tugs at his arm to try to pull him into the tiny bed with her.

He looks at her carefully. He is a good judge of character, and very good at reading people. It only takes him a few seconds to realize that she wants him to lie with her. She wants him near.

“Are you sure?”

Lucy nods her head, and before she knows what is happening, he crawls into bed with her. His back against the wall, and he is pulling the blankets over them. Her back is to his chest, and his arm drapes over her. The bed is small, and his body mass takes up more than half the bed. Lucy laughs quietly to herself about how ridiculous they must look.

“I’m sorry, are you ticklish?” He asks, having heard her chuckle.

She can feel his breath on the back of her neck.

“Yes.” She pauses. “I’m just thinking about how ridiculous we look right now. If Agent Christopher or…” Lucy remembers Rufus’s tendency to walk in on moments such as this. “… or if Rufus came in here right now-”

“Rufus isn’t coming in here. He’s scared of me, remember?”

Lucy turns around to face him, and very nearly falls out of bed, but Garcia’s arm tightens its grip around her waist and pulls her to him. Normally, she would laugh, but there is something serious in the manner he holds her. Her thighs press against his. Her bare skin against his soft cargo pants. She wonders what it is like to be with a man like Garcia Flynn. His body is warm, and welcoming, and she does not know what to do with her hands, so she cautiously places one hand on his chest, and the other hand in a fist, resting against her own chest. She exhales and is surprised that her breath is shaking.

He takes in a short breath through his nose, exhales, and tilts his head to look at her. He looks at her with so much adoration. There is no mistaking the fact that he is in love with her. He would do anything for her.

She has asked him twice what he wants from her. The first time he said he did not want anything from her, and last night he told her that he wants to get to know her. He wants her and is willing to be patient and wait for her to discover if that means just as friends, or something more.

“Your hair smells like strawberries…” He speaks quietly.

“Reminds me of Amy.” She looks up into his eyes. “I’ve been using strawberry children’s shampoo ever since she disappeared.”

He stifles a laugh, “children’s shampoo? Lucy…” He shakes his head at her in a teasing way.

“Other than her photo in my necklace, strawberry shampoo is all I have to hold onto her.” Her voice cracks unexpectantly.

Garcia repositions himself to wrap his arm protectively around her, pulling her into his body, wanting to absorb the pain of her broken heart. He places a small kiss on the top of her head, and she nuzzles her head into his chest.

“I just miss her so much, Garcia…” She feels tears sting her eyes, and she finds the courage to look him in the eyes, letting him see her pain. “She was my best friend.” A tear falls down her cheek. “I miss her jokes, stealing her clothes, her advice, hours spent talking at our mother’s side as she battled cancer… even her silly podcast.” She shakes her head as she fights with herself not to cry. “And I hate myself for wanting to go back to how things were, where I loved my mother, and she was dying, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.” Her lower lip quivers. “I… I hate that I want… that I want my mother to have cancer again.”

Lucy looks into Garcia’s eyes, begging for him to find the right words to say to make this all go away, but he stays silent, listening to her, being here for her, comforting her. And before she knows it, she is sobbing, her tears staining his T-shirt, she buries her face into his chest to muffle her cries. He squeezes her tight and rubs his hand gently up and down her arm. If it weren’t for Garcia, her body would be shaking uncontrollably from the efflux of emotions. He says nothing to her because there are no words that can offer her the comfort she needs. He is what she needs, his presence. Not once since Amy disappeared has she allowed herself the luxury to mourn her. It has been nearly two years since Amy ceased to exist and Lucy had not shed one tear. Either she was being sent out on missions, or dealing with Noah, or dealing with her mother, engagement parties, chasing Garcia, trying to save and preserve history. Not once in all this time had she allowed herself to really feel the loss of her sister… until now.

Garcia inches down so that they are face-to-face, resting his forehead against her own. His hand cups her face, wiping her tears away with his thumb, and he looks into her eyes. She has never been comfortable crying in front of anyone, but he gets it. He knows how much she misses Amy. He knows how unwanted she feels when her own mother has tried to kill her. She had felt completely abandoned, everyone she loves she has lost. She has no family. All she has are the people in this bunker, and none of them, repeat, none of them understands her as Garcia Flynn understands her. He knows all too well what she is going through. He knows that she just needs him to be present with her to offer his comfort.

He is everything that she needs.

If this is just the beginning of them getting to know each other, where will they be in a month, or even a year from now? She needs him. She needs to feel loved, wanted, comforted, and protected by the only man in this damn world that seems to care.

Her cries weaken, and she hears him whispering “shhh…” into her ear, over and over, and it helps calm her. Minutes later her ears ring in the absolute silence of the room. She is drained, and all she can do is caress his chest with her fingertips, as he moves hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear, allowing his fingers to gently caress her face before resting his hand at her waist.

“Garcia…?” She whispers.

“Hmm?” His voice is a soft growl.

Lucy places her hand on his face and brushes her thumb slowly over his lips and looks into his eyes. Her hand runs through his hair and holds the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers, placing a small, lingering kiss on his upper lip. There is no tongue in this kiss.

He pulls her body closer to him, pressing her chest against his own. Her heart is racing now, and she drapes her leg over his, hooking her heel behind his calf, and pulling her center closer to him. She feels his hand on her lower back, holding her firmly. She pulls away from the kiss, and he moans, not wanting it to end. He nuzzles his face into her neck, moving the collar of her shirt out of the way, and places small kisses along her collarbone. She unbuttons one button of her shirt to allow him easier access to her skin.

Garcia moves to rest half his body on top of hers, she is now flat on her back, with his mouth devouring her neck. The sensations she is experiencing are divine. He works his way back up to her mouth, first nibbling on her ear, placing small kisses along her jawline, and finally his mouth is on hers again. The sensation is tantalizing. She parts her lips slightly and lets out a small breath, carefully running her tongue along his lips, wanting a more passionate exploration of him, of each other. He parts his lips and his tongue enters her mouth. His hand caresses the side of her breast as it moves down to hold her firmly on the hips.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, she is sure that he can feel it. She moves to work on the zipper of his pants, fumbling with the button.

“Lucy…” He moans her name into her mouth.


She unhooks the button and takes hold of the zipper. He has stopped kissing her now.


She stops what she is doing and looks at him, confused. Why did he stop?

“Lucy, it’s too soon.”

His hand takes hold of hers, stopping her from unzipping his pants. There is a glimmer in his eyes though, this does not mean that he was not enjoying what they were doing.

“Plus… we don’t have protection.”

“I’m on the pill.”

In the dark it is hard for her to read the expression on his face, and since he did not say anything she takes that as an invitation to continue. She holds the back of his head and nibbles on his earlobe. He does not stop her so she moves her hand back down and instead of fumbling with the zipper, she slips her hand inside his pants and takes firm hold of his manhood. He tilts his head back and moans at her touch. She moves her hand on him slowly, exploring his large shaft with the palm of her hand.

“Lucy…” His breathing is heavy. “Moja ljubav… are you sure this is what you want?” He whispers into her ear.

She stops stroking him and removes her hand from his pants. She examines his face. She sees both desire for her, and the willingness to tone things down if she truly is not ready to be with him in this way. But she knows what she wants so she places her hands on his shoulders, and positions him where she can straddle him, her bare legs on either side of his body. They do not need words to communicate with each other. As she straddles him, he places his hands firmly on her hips and watches as she slowly unbuttons her shirt, opening it to expose her burgundy lace bra to him. She throws her shirt to the floor.

She feels his body shake as he exhales. His eyes lock with hers.

“I want to see where this goes.” She speaks softly to him as she takes hold of his hand and places it in between her legs. His eyes widen as he feels how wet her panties are just from the fooling around they have already done.

He sits up and she wraps her legs around his waist, and he removes his hand from her centre, placing it on her breast giving it a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb over her erect nipple. His lips move gently across her collarbone and he moves his fingers to gently lower her bra strap down her shoulder, exposing one of her breasts. Lucy holds onto the back of his neck as he takes her nipple in between his lips and flicks his tongue on its tip, then gently sucks it into his mouth. The sensation arouses her she can feel her centre swelling for him.

Lucy wraps both her arms around his neck, holding onto him, wanting him to pleasure her with both his hands, and he does not disappoint. He continues to fondle and suckle at her breast, and his other hand slips underneath her panties and strokes her. Unlike other men she has been with, he is not quick to stroke her clit. Instead her glides his fingers along her entire center, soaking his fingers in her arousal for him. Involuntarily, she moves her hips with the rhythm of his strokes. He looks up into her eyes and watches her enjoy his intimate touch. With his free hand, he reaches behind her back and expertly unhooks her bra, and they fumble around so that he can remove it from her, and it too is tossed to the floor.

Desperately, Lucy tugs at his T-shirt, pulling it up over his head and throwing it behind her. She pushes him back down onto his back, asserting her dominance over him, pressing her chest against his. She kisses him again, harder and with more passion than their first kiss. She feels him struggling to remove his pants, so she shimmies down his body, helping him to remove them. Her eyes widen when she sees the bulge of his hardened cock in his tight black boxer briefs. Her jaw drops slightly at the sight of him. She has never had a partner as large as he. She keeps her eyes on him and she drops his pants to the floor. How to proceed… She lies on her side next to him and places her hand on his bulge.

“Unless you’ve got any KY lubricant in your bunk…”

Lucy looks at Garcia and sees that he is looking at her like she is the only person who matters in the world, with a Garcia Flynn smirk on his face. He is taking this as a compliment, as he very well should!

He moves to hover over her as he removes his boxer briefs from his body. He lies on top of her, and she feels his hardness press against her thigh. His thumbs hook her panties and slide them off her body. He kisses her breast, and starts slowly fingering her wet, very wet, centre.

“How about we focus on foreplay and when you feel you’re ready, let me know.” He kisses her on the forehead and smiles at her. “What do you like?”

Lucy’s heart swells! Is this man even real? She feels her face flush. She is embarrassed. With other partners she just went along with them, played the game, and eventually (with some) got to the finish line. None of them actually asked her what she likes.

“Lucy, it’s okay.” He senses her hesitation. “This is just you and me.”

“I know… I just…” She closes her eyes. “You’re too good to me, Garcia.”

She reaches out and pulls him to her and kisses him, their mouths open to each other, their tongues exploring each other, the kiss deepening, filling with more passion and desire for each other. Lucy turns her head to temporarily pause the kiss, she holds both her hands on his face, locks her eyes with his.

“I like how you finger me…”

Just saying those words to him makes her more wet. Then she feels his hand move to her swollen centre, covering her with the entirety of his palm and he presses his hand on her, slowly massaging her centre, soaking his hand in the process. She arches her back and sighs.

“That feels good.”

“That’s why I’m doing it, ljubavi.” He kisses her on her forehead.

His fingers stroke her hot, wet silk. And her body shudders when the tip of his finger touches her directly on her hardened clit, she gasps. He rubs her clit gently in circles, then lightly taps it quickly before plunging two fingers into her core, curling his fingertips deep in her to hit her sweet spot as his thumb maintains gentle stimulation of her clit.

She tries to stop herself from reacting loudly to his touch, but lets out a loud, elated gasp anyway. Her breathing is heavy, and her chest rises and falls more frequently, she is panting now. He continues to plunge his fingers in and out (over and over again!) of her slick core, manually fucking her gently. His touch is exquisite.

Lucy bites her lower lip and closes her eyes. He is going to get her to come, isn’t he? She grinds her hips along with his rhythm, enjoying the slow build of her climax.

“Gar… Garci…” Her breath is short. “Garcia…”

She feels his lips kissing her abdomen as he continues fingering her. His other hand moves to take firm hold of her breast, squeezing it with more strength. It must be taking every fiber of his willpower to not thrust his dick into her and fuck her from here to oblivion.

She wants oblivion.

His mouth replaces his fingers now, the change in sensation causes Lucy to sit up, propping herself up on her elbows to look down at him, comfortably in between her legs, his mouth lapping at her centre. She loses control of her body when she feels his tongue slide into her, and he moans causing the smallest of vibrations to bolt through her entire body. From head to toe she feels closer and closer to orgasm.

“Garc…” She can barely find the sounds to say his name. She bucks her hips against his face wanting to feel more of him, wanting to ride him to oblivion. She musters all the strength she still has to prop herself back up on her elbows, and as she does he looks at her through raised eyes, she holds his gaze and commands him, “stop.”

Her body is starting to feel the beginnings of an orgasm, her nipples are erect, her body is starting to convulse, she is panting and out of breath. And the moment she told him to stop, he did. He slowly crawls up her body, and lies on his side next to her, looking down at her body and how it is reacting to his work. He runs his hand through her hair then slides it down her neck, down the side of her breast, and rests it on her waist.

He looks her in the eyes, asking her without words if she is ok, and she nods her head. She turns onto her side to face him and drapes her leg over his ass. She looks down for just a moment to make sure that he is still erect. She takes firm hold of him and leads him into her core. She sees him struggling to maintain his calm composure.

“It’s okay.” She assures him. “Just you and me.”

His sheer size spreads her folds, but she is soaking wet and there is no pain at taking his size. She manages to get half of him inside her before he starts thrusting in her. He moves slowly, and she knows he does this because he does not want to hurt her. Their rhythm is awkward at first, but they find each other quick and work together as “quite the team” to reach their climax. His dick pushes deeper and deeper into her, and he pulls her body on top of his, not wanting her to take his full body weight. Lucy places both hands on his chest to stabilize herself and she rides him.

“My clit.” She commands him.

He swiftly moves his hand in between where their bodies have combined and starts massaging her clit at the quick pace at which she is grinding against him. She pulls him in and out of her centre, sinking him deep into her and squeezing his length with her muscles as she slides him out of her again. She is exquisite. He feels his orgasm rising in him, he is so close now, and he is sure she is on the verge of exploding. Her moans have turned into louder grunts with each thrust she makes. He cannot help himself, he holds her tightly around the back, and flips her underneath him. She smiles up at him, enjoying that he has taken the dominant position. She spreads her legs as much as she can for him as he pushes into her. She bites her lower lip.

“I’m almos… I’m…” She can barely speak.

Garcia understands what she means and allows himself to just let it go. He does his best not to pound himself inside her, instead he keeps his thrusts fast and as shallow as he can control, his entire body convulses as he buries his face into the crook of her neck to muffle the sound of his orgasm, he feels himself fill her with his hot semen, and it seeps out of her opening. She is still writhing against his body, and he realizes that she has not yet come. He reaches down and just barely starts rubbing her clit with his finger, and that sensation sends her over the edge. He watches her body react to his stimulation. Her back arches, and her body quakes through the waves of pleasure he is giving her. Her eyes are closed and her mouth wide open, she is groaning quite loudly, her legs are wrapped around his body, her heel digging into his ass, pushing him as deep inside her as he can go. Every muscle in her body is responsive to her orgasm, her soft skin shimmering with sweat. Moments later her body collapses. She reaches out to him and kisses him.

The kiss is slower, deeper, and filled with so much more emotion than their earlier kisses. Her eyes are filled with tears, but he knew that about her already, that she cries after they make love. She wrote of their first time in her journal, and how much being with him meant to her. She did not give a date or any hint as to when it happened, just her recollections of it. Now he knows exactly what her words meant when she said that she felt in her heart that he was going to be the man she spent the rest of her life with. This was not just some random sexual romp, they both feel that their souls connected on a completely different level. This was intimate. This was not fucking. This was not just sex. This was making love.

He waits until he feels her muscles loosen around him before attempting to pull out of her. She relaxes her muscles to help him. He sits on the edge of the bed and runs his hand over his face. He still cannot believe that this just happened. He had prepared himself to be patient with her feelings for him, to wait as long as it took her to fall in love with him. But he does not regret that it happened tonight and he senses that she does not regret it either. He feels her kneel behind him, her arms wrap around his shoulders and she places a soft kiss on his back.

“No cuddling?” Her voice is playful.

“I want to get a clean blanket.” He sounds embarrassed. “I uh… it’s messy.”

She unwraps her arms from around him and he hears her moving around on the bed, he glances back and sees that she is gathering up the grey blanket that he retrieved for her early, and she throws it to the foot of the bed. Her arms are around him again, and her lips on his ear.

“All done.”

He turns his head and smiles at her, his eyes adoring everything about her. Never in a million years did he think he could ever find this feeling again. And even though he read about them becoming a couple in her journal, he tried his hardest to ensure that that would never happen. He set out to destroy Rittenhouse, and to save his family, and along the way He led him to Lucy.

He reaches down and retrieves her bra and shirt from the floor, and hands them to her. She looks at him confused, which seems exaggerated by her wild sex hair. He chuckles softly. She is the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on.

“Rufus could walk in on us in the morning.” He explains.

“I thought he was scared of you.”

“He is, but… because of how everyone still feels about me… I’m thinking maybe this should be just between you and me?” He questions his own logic. They should be proud to let everyone know that they are together. They are together now, aren’t they?

Garcia watches Lucy for her reaction. She doesn’t say anything as she puts her bra and panties back on and slips back into her light blue flannel shirt. She buttons only a couple buttons and then walks over to him, tries to go up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek, but he is too tall. She laughs quietly with her arm draped over his shoulder.

“Can you bend down a little?” She smiles.

He leans down just low enough so she can give him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

“Of course, this is just between you and me.” She runs her hand down his chest, and stares into his eyes. “We can wait to tell everyone until they accept you here. That’s not a problem. I kinda like the idea of having us be our own little secret.”

“You were kinda loud, you know.” He jokes with her.

“As were you, Garcia.” She jokes back.

Lucy crawls back into his bed, and watches him put back on his grey T-shirt, and his black boxer briefs. He picks up his cargo pants from the floor and folds them and puts them on the chair alongside her jeans. He retrieves a pair of dark grey sweatpants and puts them on before crawling back into bed with her, pulling the navy-blue blanket over their bodies. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her to him, her back firmly pressed against his chest. Lucy is asleep within minutes, but Garcia’s mind will not give him silence.

He holds her in his arms, watching her, the remnants of a smile are still resting on her lips. He moves carefully to find a more comfortable position. He never expected them to sleep together so soon, but it was everything he expected it to be if it had happened months into a relationship with her, or even years from now. He does not know her as well as he wants to know her, but if tonight is any indication they are well on their way. When she came to him from the future and gave him her journal, she had to really talk to him, convince him that she wasn’t crazy and that everything she was telling him was true. She knew intimate things about him, things no one -not even Lorena- knew. That is what convinced him to take her seriously. He read her journal a countless number of times, but he only memorized one entry by heart, her last entry in which she signed off with her name: Lucy Flynn.

Garcia closes his eyes and inhales and slowly exhales, as he recalls her final entry.

Garcia, moja ljubav, I miss you more than words can express, and I still love you more each day even though you are no longer with me. I am forever grateful that I had, and still have, you in my life. It hurts not seeing your smile, or hearing your voice, or feeling your touch, but you made me strong, and though I wish you were still here with me, I can keep on living. Maia is eighteen now, and she is so much like you. She’s sassy, confident, and stands up for those she cares about. I wish you were here to see her now, you would be so proud. But Garcia… Rittenhouse has recruited our little girl. They cannot take her away from me as they took you. I don’t know how I can save her. I wrote this journal for you, as a guide to help you navigate through time, to hunt down and destroy Rittenhouse once and for all. I know that meddling with history can erase everything you and I ever had, but fate. Fate brought us together once before, and I believe that fate will bring us together again. You once said that you know somehow, someway, we’ll save the people we love, and you were right. We may never have saved Lorena, Iris, or Amy, but we found each other, and we saved each other from everything we lost, by finding each other, being together, and loving one another. Garcia, our story is on a constant loop, it has no end… it is timeless.

Garcia opens his eyes and looks down at Lucy, she is still asleep in his arms. He wipes a tear from his face and raises his left hand and removes the wedding ring that he wears. He looks at its inscription in the moonlight that seeps into his room, it has only one word inscribed: timeless.