It has been nine days since Garcia last spoke to Lucy.
Nine days since they’ve even made eye contact. And in those nine days, they’ve managed to go on two missions without acknowledging that the other was with the team. Lucy did her thing, and Garcia his. Everyone else was very much aware of the tension between them, but dared not get involved.
Their fight happened when they followed Rittenhouse to 1912.
Moments before the ill-fated ship hit the iceberg, Garcia and Lucy were on deck. And instead of trying to figure out how to save as many people as they could, they were fighting about how he had watched the next episode in their first ever Breaking Bad watch, without her. He insisted that she had told him that she watched the episode with Jiya and Rufus the night before. But she hadn’t.
As their misunderstanding unraveled between them, large chunks of ice scattered around them on the ship’s deck. They were shouting at each other about a stupid episode of a TV show.
And the breaking point of their Breaking Bad fight came when Lucy equated his watching it without her to cheating. She even pushed all of his buttons when she told him, “Once a cheater, always a cheater. Just like Wyatt.”
Even thinking of being compared to Wyatt now angers him, and he isn’t proud of himself for the expletives that he shouted at her on the deck of the Titanic. But it happened, and she slapped him. Then she stormed away to find Jiya and Rufus who were somewhere below deck.
He followed her, of course. They were on a sinking ship after all. It baffled him why Lucy had been so upset about a TV show. But as intelligent as he is, as quick of a learner that he is, he admits that he still doesn’t understand women.
Lucy ignored him as everything started to snowball out of control.
At first, things were calm, but as passengers realized that the unsinkable ship was in fact sinking, everything went to Hell. And in all the chaos, Lucy was doing everything she could to avoid him. Even pretending that she couldn’t hear him as he begged her to get into a lifeboat and to safety.
She was giving him the silent treatment on the goddamn Titanic.
As it was sinking, no less.
It got to the point where he had to physically pick her up and place her in one of the lifeboats to get her to safety. With tears streaming down her face, she tried to resist him. Pushing her hands against him, trying to pry herself from his grip. She even yelled at him to let her go – the last words she spoke to him nine days ago, on the Titanic, were spat at him in anger, “Get your hands off me, Flynn!”
She hadn’t called him Flynn since they officially came out as a couple two years ago.
She calmed down when Jiya joined her in the lifeboat. All she had to do was touch Lucy’s arm and sit down beside her. Garcia shrugged Lucy’s behaviour off, telling himself that she was scared and that’s why she was lashing out at him over something as unimportant as Breaking Bad.
He looked back at her, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her, before running off to find Rufus. She refused to look at him. His heart ached, and he knew he had to do everything he could to get himself and Rufus off that ship. And while he did manage to get Rufus a seat on a Lifeboat, he got stuck on the damn ship until it was completely submerged.
He hates that he actually thought of that DiCaprio and Winslet movie once he breached the surface of the ice-cold water, gasping for air. It felt as if his muscles were going to shut down. He spotted a large wooden door floating nearby… I’ll never let go… and pulled himself up onto it so that he wouldn’t freeze to death in the cold Atlantic water.
He stared up into the crystal-clear night sky, and all its twinkling stars and… well, you’d think he’d be thinking about how he was going to get found whenever one of the lifeboats came to find survivors, but he wasn’t.
He was fuming about how Lucy had compared him to Wyatt Logan. The bunker’s resident moron. He was angry that Lucy had risked her life, taking her sweet time getting on a lifeboat. He was frustrated with himself for watching that damn Breaking Bad episode without her.
Eventually, he was fished out of the water.
He could barely speak, couldn’t feel his fingers or toes, and all he wanted was to feel Lucy’s arms around him. To tell her that he was sorry, and that he loves her. He needed to hear her voice, to hear her tell him that she loves him too, but she only glanced at him – he was thankful that she looked worried about him. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t even hold his hand, a gesture that would’ve let him know that despite being angry, she was still there for him. She did nothing, and that upset him more than anything.
Jiya was kind enough to offer him a blanket. And when he went to sit down next to Lucy, she turned her back to him. He didn’t want to risk further upsetting her, so he said nothing. And when he tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders, she swatted him away. That broke his heart. They had survived the sinking of the goddamn Titanic, and Lucy was pushing him away.
He didn’t want to think it, but that’s when he grew worried that maybe their relationship wasn’t strong enough to survive their first petty fight.
What happened between them on the Titanic was a far cry from what was written in the journal, that’s for damn sure.
Safe, and protected, and loved? Sure, more like: in danger, and reckless, and… well, he hoped that she still knew that he loved her despite their stupid fight.
He sat there, shivering, doing the math in his head and figured that she was PMSing. So, he kept his mouth shut, deciding to let her be the one to come to him when she felt like talking again.
But Hell, it’s nine days later, and they’ve been on two other missions since then, and she still hasn’t said a word to him. She’s been sleeping on the couch again, and he’s been sleeping in that chair in his room, hoping that one night she’ll sneak back into their bed and that will mark the end of this charade.
Garcia walks into the common area and sees that Lucy is sitting alone on that uncomfortable Kem Weber couch. The toes of her socks peek out from underneath a navy-blue blanket. She’s watching the DiCaprio and Winslet movie Titanic. Her hair sits atop her head in a sloppy bun, and she’s wearing her favourite burgundy sweatshirt inside out.
Garcia opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water. He starts to close the door, then decides to grab a second. He hesitates, watching Lucy. He glances at the TV. Rose’s hand slams against the fogged window of the car, sliding down the condensation on the glass indicating hers and Jack’s climax.
It’s been nine days.
This has gone on long enough.
He makes his way to Lucy and sits down beside her on the couch.
She doesn’t glance at him, or acknowledge him in any way.
He holds out the second bottle of water, waiting, just as he did that night two years ago when they wound up watching It Happened One Night together.
Lucy refuses to take the water.
“You’re trembling,” Rose says.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be all right,” Jack tells her as he rests his cheek against her chest.
Garcia leans forward and sets one bottle of water on the table next to Lucy’s feet. He sits back and focuses on the TV. He doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t want to risk further pissing her off if she’s really into watching this movie by trying to talk about their problem. So, he sits. Patiently waiting for the movie to end.
And what feels like hours later, the end credits are rolling and Céline Dion is singing that song which even back in 1998, Garcia wished he’d never have to hear again.
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more, you open the door
And you’re here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on
Then, there’s movement.
Lucy raises her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.
“Are you crying?” Garcia asks, not meaning to make his question sound like an accusation.
She shoots him a look of disgust then stands up and walks away.
Garcia sneers at himself then stands, following her.
“Lucy!” He calls out.
She ignores him, picking up her pace.
“Lucy, will you just-”
She opens the door to his room, then slams it shut behind her.
He stops and rests his hand on the door.
He lowers his head in defeat.
“Lucy… will you just… draga, it’s been nine days. You’re going to have to talk to me about what happened eventually.”
He shakes his head and takes a step back. He wonders how long Lucy will allow this to continue. Ten days? Eleven? Twelve? The rest of the year?
Just as he’s about to turn around and go back to the common area, to let her have the room for the night, the door opens. Lucy peers up at him.
Tears are in her eyes. Her voice is meek when she speaks. “We had a stupid fight while the Titanic was sinking, and I was stupid to make my priority giving you the silent treatment.” She sniffles, lowering her gaze. “I feel bad about that as it is, and then…” She shakes her head. She knows that giving Garcia the silent treatment for nine days was wrong.
“Lucy… I… I’m so sorry, draga. I shouldn’t have watched the show without you.”
He steps closer to her as she opens the door, allowing him entry into his – actually, their – room.
“And then I pretty much said you were a Wyatt, and nothing could be further from the truth,” Lucy says as she turns her back to him. She sits down on the edge of their bed. “I’m such a bitch, Garcia. I’m the one that should apologize.”
Garcia sits next to her; he takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles.
She continues. “And you know how I get when I’m PMSing…” She averts her eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with him. “Even the smallest things set me off. And the stress of living in this bunker, chasing Rittenhouse… everyone always being here, not having any privacy… it’s no wonder that I-”
Garcia weaves his hand into her hair, and gently places his lips on hers.
He understands now, their blowout on the Titanic wasn’t so much about him watching an episode of Breaking Bad as it was about Lucy reaching a breaking point and having no better way to express herself than to fight with him – the one person in this bunker that she knows would understand and forgive her for doing it.
Lucy whimpers, pulling away to rest her forehead against his. She looks down at their hands, and curls her fingers around his.
“I lied,” she whispers. “I… I wasn’t…” She takes his hand in hers and places it on her abdomen. “Just before Rittenhouse jumped to 1912, I found out that I’m pregnant. I didn’t tell anyone, and I’m afraid of what time traveling could do to the baby, and… I was… I didn’t want to tell you because we were going to the Titanic, and I didn’t want you distracted. And then I was distracted, and-”
Lucy stops abruptly when she sees tears welling in his eyes.
“Oh God, don’t cry,” she says. “You’re going to make me cry,” she says as tears start welling up in her eyes too.
“Do you… do you know how far along you are?” His voice cracks, but his heart is soaring.
Lucy shakes her head, “I don’t.”
“Well, you’re not showing so you can’t be too far along,” he tells her.
“My boobs have been sore,” she says, feeling her cheeks flush.
Garcia offers a soft smile.
He kisses her on the cheek.
“Lay down, draga,” he whispers.
Lucy lays down, resting her head on a pillow. Even though she’s not showing, she places her hands self-consciously on her stomach. She keeps her eyes on Garcia as he crosses the room and turns off the overhead light, then as he goes to their desk and turns on a soft lamp. He returns to her, slips off his shoes, and he lays down beside her.
“When Lorena was pregnant with Iris, she had soreness up to the day she went into labor.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Lucy asks, raising an eyebrow.
Garcia places his hand on Lucy’s hip.
“Let’s just say that Lorena teased me long after Iris was born that I was a professional breast masseur,” he says as his lips curl into a smile.
“Oh God.” Lucy is embarrassed. She raises her arms to cover her face.
Garcia slowly inches his fingers underneath the hem of her sweatshirt.
His cool hands make contact with her warm skin, and she flinches, gently biting down on her bottom lip as his hand moves slowly toward her breasts. She feels the warmth of his breath against her skin, and then his lips kiss the soft skin below her abdomen. He whispers something in Croatian to their unborn child, then kisses her abdomen again, his thumb stroking her skin.
Lucy inhales and removes her arms from her face. She rests one arm above her head, and lowers the other to run her fingers through Garcia’s hair.
His hand cups her breast, and he gently moves his fingers in a circular motion against the soft fabric of her bra, expertly massaging the side of her breast.
“Let me know if it hurts,” he says.
Lucy’s eyes are closed and her lips part. She takes a deep breath, holds it, then exhales slowly. His fingertips continue in a circular motion, applying light pressure to her breast.
“Take it off,” she mumbles.
“My bra… take it off,” she tells him as she rises onto her elbows.
Garcia nods his head and moves to straddle her, his hands reaching behind her back.
Lucy struggles to get her arms out of the long sleeves of her sweatshirt as Garcia unhooks her bra.
He slides the straps of the white cotton garment from her shoulders, and tosses it onto the floor. He returns his full attention to Lucy, watching as she slides her arms back into the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
“Not going topless?” Garcia asks, with a devilish look in his eyes as he lays down next to her.
Lucy says nothing as she places both hands on his face and pulls him to her. Their lips meet. He lays on top of her, running his hand through her hair. She opens her mouth to him, and glides her tongue across his bottom lip. Her fingers play with the small tufts of hair at the base of his neck as their kiss deepens.
She tilts her head back, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. He trails soft kisses from her jaw, down the long muscle of her neck, to her collarbone. He slides his hand beneath her sweatshirt and carefully takes her breast in his hand. His thumb circles her nipple. It’s soft at first, but hardens gradually under his touch. She writhes beneath him, shifting her body to a more comfortable position. Then she startles, grimacing.
“That hurts,” she tells him.
Garcia reduces the pressure he was using to massage around her nipple.
“Here?” He asks, using just his thumb to find the small patch of soreness.
She nods her head.
He keeps light pressure as he concentrates on the area of soreness. He lays next to her as he works his fingers against her delicate skin. She turns her head and their eyes meet.
They share a smile.
Garcia leans toward her and places a soft, lingering kiss on her temple. “I think we need to let Agent Christopher know about your condition,” he says.
“And maybe Rufus too.”
“I think he would be the one to know if it’s safe for me to travel while carrying a baby.”
Garcia nods his head and tells her, “If it’s not safe then you’re not going on missions, not until…” He trails off. Honestly, once their child is born, he doesn’t want either of them to time travel again. He shakes his head and sighs.
Lucy reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from his forehead.
He looks at her.
“Honestly, I don’t want us to time travel anymore. You’re pregnant, and I don’t want you to risk it. I don’t want to go on missions and leave you behind. And after our baby is born, I don’t want us to have to leave him or her behind.” He shakes his head. “Lucy… I don’t know what we’re going to do. You’re the team’s historian. And while Wyatt would argue this, I’m the muscle. Without us, I’m not sure the team will be very effective in taking out Rittenhouse.”
Neither one of them says anything.
Garcia continues to gently circle his fingertips against her breasts, cradling his head beneath her shoulder as she curls her arm around him, kissing the top of his head.
Lucy starts thinking out loud. “We could live in the past. Have Rufus drop us off and then pick us up at the same location, but a few years later. That way, it would only be an hour or two without us here, but for us it would be a few years, and maybe by then-”
“No.” He’s quick to shoot down this idea.
“I want this to be normal, Lucy.” He removes his hand from beneath her sweatshirt and rests it on top of her stomach. “I want a nice house in the suburbs, a pet dog, friendly neighbors. I want to be able to go out at three in the morning to get you chocolate ice cream to put on top of your spring rolls because that’s what you’re craving.” He looks at Lucy, her brow is wrinkled with concern as she listens to him. “I want you to meet my mom. I want her to fuss over you, and nitpick me and the way that I’m handling our pregnancy. I want to procrastinate on getting the baby’s room ready until a week before the due date-”
“Do you think I don’t want those things too?” Lucy asks, rolling onto her side to face him. She caresses his jaw with her hand. “What we want and what we have are two very different things right now, Garcia. And as frustrating as it is, we’re stuck in this bunker, fighting this war with Rittenhouse. That is our reality.” Lucy wipes a tear from her eye. “Instead of your mother nitpicking us, we’re going to have Wyatt, and Rufus, Jiya, Denise, and I suspect that Connor is going to be more annoying about this than anyone else.”
Garcia chuckles, he won’t argue that.
Lucy smiles as she places her fingertips under his chin, tilting his head so he is looking her in the eye.
“And like with everything else that we’ve endured, we’re going to figure this out. That’s the one thing I know we’re good at: adapting, improvising, and figuring out how to make something work when all odds are against us.”
“Then we’ll talk to Rufus and Agent Christopher in the morning,” he says, settling in more comfortably with Lucy. He pulls the blanket up to cover them both. “And then we’ll deal with this head on.”
She nods her head and inches closer to the father of her unborn child. She drapes her leg over his. There’s a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Garcia raises his brow, asking her what’s going on inside her head. Lucy smiles, biting down nervously on her lower lip.
“So… our little fight is over, right?” She asks.
“Of course, it is,” he tells her.
“So, that means you’ll forgive me later, whenever I decide to tell you that I finished watching Breaking Bad over the last few days?” She winces, but her eyes are smiling.
Garcia laughs out loud as he flips Lucy onto her back, and lays on top of her.
“I love you, Lucy Elizabeth Preston.”
“But I love you more,” she tells him, booping the tip of his nose with her finger.
Garcia lowers himself so that he can kiss her abdomen again. He returns to Lucy – resting his hand on her stomach. He rubs his nose against hers, and kisses her again.
“I promise you, Lucy…” he whispers, “… I promise you that one day we’ll have a normal life for our family.”