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"Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts.
Flashbacks waking me up.
I get drunk, but it's not enough,
'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby.
I look through the windows of this love,
Even though we boarded them up.
Chandelier's still flickering here,
'Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not.
It's death by a thousand cuts."
-"Death By A Thousand Cuts" by Taylor Swift
Lucy feels...warm. She's not quite sure where she is. Her eyes are still closed. She's not looking at her surroundings, but it doesn't feel like the cold, mildewed bunker. The air is warm, the sheets are soft, the mattress is firm — and big. One subtle extension of her bare leg bumps a sturdier leg and another suspicion is confirmed.
She's not alone in this large luxurious bed. And just like that…
She remembers.
Wyatt.
One pretend kiss, two almost kisses, and two half confessions finally led them here. Naked, in bed, together. After his short but lovely admission last night, it seems her insistence that they couldn't be on the same page was wrong. They are very much on the same page.
So much the same page that it turned into the same bed. She's not sure what time she's woken up to, but there's no sunlight peeking through the curtains. At the very least, it's still early. Too early to crash Rittenhouse's meeting they'd learned about last night.
Chills rise on her sated body as the air cools and seeps under the sheets. There's still a sheen of sweat all over her from their...activities. She's going to need something more than the sheets to keep her warm. She has a slip around here somewhere. That will have to do.
She carefully pulls the covers back so as not to wake Wyatt, but he's a light sleeper and no amount of careful could keep him at bay.
His arms wrap around her waist as she sits on the edge of the bed.
"Where exactly do you think you're going, ma'am?"
She turns with the indignant glare that's expected when he uses that title on her. "We're still doing the 'ma'am' thing?"
Even in the darkness she can see his smirk.
"What? You think that goes away just because we slept together? No such luck. We're too far into this bit now to stop."
"And if it's the sex or the bit? What'll you do then?" She asks as she settles back into the bed, laying so her face lines up with his.
"You'd never give me that ultimatum," he says with a confident chuckle. "You like it when I call you 'Ma'am'. No sense denying it now."
Damn him and his ability to read her so well. She shakes her head but her smile never moves. "You think you know me."
"Not as well as I should," he admits. "But tonight has definitely been, shall we say, educational."
He leans forward and gently bites the ridge of her collar bone. The resulting way she gasps and wraps her arms around him causes another one of his confident chuckles to fill the air.
"See? That's new," he teases.
She runs her hands through his hair and over his shoulders as he does it again. Her body's heating itself from the inside out and feeling cold is no longer an issue. "Learn anything else tonight?"
He grins against her shoulder and the feeling of it is heaven. "You giving me a pop quiz, Professor?"
"Think you can ace it, Soldier?"
"Oh, with flying colors. No doubt."
"Prove it."
"Happy to."
The minute his lips find the sensitive spot just below her ear she knows he's right. He is definitely scoring toward the top of the curve on this quiz.
As his kisses trail further downward, she remembers her slip. Oh, well. She can always find it later. It's not like there's any rush to be clothed, she thinks with a wicked grin.
Not when he's touching her like this.
Her eyes snap open and even in the blackness the difference is palpable. Thin mattress, scratchy bed linens, the faintest hint of stagnant moisture in the air.
The loneliness.
She isn't in 1941 anymore. Never would be again. Tears spill from her lashes and a hand flies up to cover her mouth before a sob escapes. Jiya is sleeping across the room and she'll be damned if she wakes her up with her pathetic crying.
Especially not if she's crying over a married man.
Once again: ill fated, ill timed.
Yet strangely, she knows now they aren't an ill fit. And maybe that's the worst part.
They fit so wonderfully well together. It was so perfect that she aches for him.
But that's over. Done. It has to be done.
The metal door to their room begins to open with a groan. Lucy scrambles to roll onto her back and hides her face in a pillow. The last time someone came into their room it was Wyatt on her first night in the bunker. She let him think she was sleeping then and if it's him again she plans to do the same.
"Lucy."
It is him. Why is he doing this to her? She told him what he wanted to hear outside the bathroom earlier. Couldn't that be enough?
"Lucy, are you awake?" He whispers again.
No. Go away.
She bites her bottom lip to keep her crying silent. Why isn't he with her? His wife. Lucy just wants to be left alone.
"I'm pretty sure she's all but dead to the world, Wyatt. She had a rough day. You of all people should know that."
Bless you, Jiya.
"I...I just—"
"You just what? It's late. You should go back to bed."
He blows out a frustrated breath. "If only I could. I talked to her earlier and something didn't...it didn't…"
"She's sleeping, Wyatt," Jiya says sternly. "We've talked about how little she does that lately. You know she needs the rest, especially after the infection and the—"
"Fever. Please don't remind me. You already sent me away once because of it. I know I'm not what she needs right now." He pauses and his voice cracks over the last sentence. "But, Jiya, I—I don't know what to do."
"It's not up to Lucy to figure that out for you. Decide for yourself, Logan. Leave her alone until you do," Jiya answers. Her words are firm but her tone is sympathetic. "Let her rest."
After a lingering tense silence, his footsteps retreat and the metal door groans again. This time to close.
As soon as it does, her sobs explode. She can't stop them. Trying only makes them sound more frantic. She's trembling and sputtering, curled into the fetal position as she faces the wall. He was right there and she couldn't have him. It was torture. Why did she have to come so close only to have it ripped out of her hands?
She feels a small hand on her shoulder and jumps.
"It's okay," Jiya says soothingly. "It's just me."
She nods because her throat is too clogged for words. She's simultaneously relieved and heartbroken. Last time she cried like this it was Wyatt comforting her. Reminding her he was still there. This time he can't be.
"It's not fair, Jiya," she croaks out. "It's. Not. Fair."
"I know," Her friend replies, tears evident in her words.
Jiya crawls into the cot and spoons against her. She bands her arms around Lucy and rests her head against her back.
"It's okay to cry over it, you know? You lost, Lucy. You lost a lot. It's more than just Wyatt. If anyone deserves to cry, it's you."
Lucy's hands find Jiya's as they rest on her abdomen. She clutches them like a lifeline. She forgets sometimes that it's more than just her and Wyatt and the ghost of his wife in this bunker. She has other friends beyond him. She has Rufus. She has Christopher. She has Jiya.
Jiya, who has reminded her of Amy since the first day they spoke. If Amy were still here, she and Jiya would be perfect companions. She's always thought that. If there was ever a time she needed a sister, it's now.
So, she lets go. She cries harder than she's ever cried. Not even at Rittenhouse were her tears this relentless. Jiya cries along with her. She can feel the younger woman's tears on the back of her shirt.
"You know," Jiya says after their tears begin to slow. "You and I probably wouldn't have these problems if we'd just fallen in love with each other."
In spite of her heartbreak, Lucy laughs.
"Damn our vaginas for wanting a penis."
"Jiya," Lucy says through a soggy laugh.
"What? It's true! Would you be mad at me because of visions I can't control?"
"No," she answers with a grin.
"And I don't have a dead or not-dead ex-wife. So see? We're made for each other."
"Wow, we really missed the boat, huh?" Lucy asks, playing along.
"Totally." Jiya takes a moment and the room feels somber as she does. "For what it's worth, I don't think this is any easier for him."
"Not right now, but it will be eventually. He has Jessica back. He'll forget about me soon enough," Lucy declares darkly.
"I don't think so. But Wyatt will have to prove that to you himself. I can't do anything about that. What I can do is be here for you. You'll get through it. I'll help you."
"I feel like I'm being shredded to pieces," Lucy admits, swallowing thickly. It's the truth. The pain slices and burns. Like paper cuts all over her body. "Everything I love is being taken away from me. One by one. Losing Wyatt feels like...the last straw. I can't take much more."
"You can," Jiya promises. "You're stronger than you think you are. I've watched you face down bigger problems than this. You got this, Lucy Preston, and if you ever feel like you don't then remind yourself of all you've overcome so far. A little heartbreak is nothing compared to all of that."
Jiya's right. They have bigger problems than her...affair with Wyatt. Lucy can focus on those. She can deal with that and let Wyatt sort himself out. It'll hurt like hell but life goes on. Rittenhouse won't stop just because she's been hurt. She'll see him every day. Relive the one day they had together every night. But everything else has to be business as usual.
He wanted Jessica and now he has her. She and Wyatt will both have to accept that. She can shut him out and shut her heart off. At least to him. She'll have to if she wants to survive this.
She knew it was doomed from the start. Nothing's changed. She gave him every part of her and it wasn't enough. She's never enough. It's time she stopped trying to be. She has too much on her plate, as it is. She should have listened to herself when they first met and kept her distance. Now those roots have to be cut out and it's every bit as painful as she knew it would be.
She loves him, but it's not meant to be.
This is how their story ends.
But it's fine. She'll be alright.
It's just a thousand cuts.