Disclaimer: I own nothing. Characters belong to Timeless and ABC.

An Interesting Night

Chicago 1893


Lucy was sitting on the edge of the bed in the little hotel room that Flynn had procured for them. He was sitting in a chair in the corner, while his number one henchman, Carl, stood in front of the door. Lucy felt it was unnecessary for Carl to guard the door, looking menacing and all. Flynn had the key to the locked door, and anyway, she knew it was pointless to try to escape. She'd never make it, or not very far if she did manage to get away.

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Oh, god, Lucy thought, that's so cliche! She mentally shook herself and tried to think of a way to lighten the tension, even if by only the smallest amount. Her nerves were almost shot and she needed to change the atmosphere in the room, a room that felt like it was getting smaller with every breath they all took.

"Um..." Lucy began hesitantly. "Is it possible I could get a glass of water. Please?"

Flynn looked up from his deep concentration and almost seemed surprised to see her there, as if he'd forgotten all about her. How could he forget he was holding someone hostage?! She thought. He shifted in his chair, watching Lucy with a stare that felt like it delved deep into her soul. She inhaled quickly, wondering just what it was he saw there. The look made her squirm. It also caused her to feel a strange discomfort that she couldn't identify.

Neither Flynn nor Carl made a move to grant her request. Exasperated, Lucy huffed out, "Oh, for god's sake, I'm not going to try to escape. I know it's no use, the door's locked and we're on the second floor so the window's not an option either. And what exactly do you think I could do with water that would help me get away? It's not like throwing it in your face would do anything other than piss you off, and we all know I don't have enough strength to do much damage if I tried to break it over your head. Plus, I'd only have the one glass and there's two of you, so that wouldn't work in my favor either."

She next turned to fully face Flynn, eyeing his tall form. "And, besides, I sincerely doubt I could even reach the top of your head," she said, crossing her arms in front of her in annoyance. "Not without a chair, at least," she mumbled petulantly. Lucy was further annoyed with the lack of response from either man, but she swore she saw Flynn smirk at her before his face went blank and dark once again.

Not looking away from Lucy, Flynn said to Carl, "Carl, do you think you could rustle up a couple of glasses and some water? Maybe some whiskey, too, if you can find it." He held the key out to Carl, which he took and disappeared from the room, leaving Flynn and Lucy alone. It was very quiet in the room then, the silence even more pronounced than before Carl left. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to send him away, Lucy thought, slightly panicking as she noticed Flynn was brooding in that sexy way of his again.

Sexy?!? Where the hell did that come from? She mentally slapped herself. Good god, Lucy, this man has tried to kill you multiple times in the last several months. You cannot, under no circumstances whatsoever, think that Flynn is sexy! That accent of his and the way he said her name was definitely not sexy either, and the urge to brush the hair from his forehead when it fell too far forward was really just her wanting to distract him so she could hit him or something, right?

Flynn broke the silence when he chuckled. "I can see the wheels in your head turning, but the question is: what has you concentrating so hard? It's almost like there's an inner battle waging inside that brilliant mind of yours." How could Flynn see she was struggling with what she was feeling toward him in that moment? Did I write about it in the journal he has and already knows? Because that would be embarrassing. Maybe he's just teasing me.

Lucy immediately dismissed that supposition once she got another look at Flynn's expression. There was no teasing or gloating, only honest curiosity and a what looked like concern. That threw her off balance just as much as her thinking he was sexy. How could Flynn honestly be concerned about the inner workings of her mind and appear to earnestly want to help. It was an enigma, Flynn was an enigma.

"Um, I..." She began but cut off her words as the door opened and Carl pulled a cart into the room. It held two glasses, a small bucket of ice, a pitcher of water, and a decanter of whiskey. Flynn waved him off when he went to return the key to his boss, for lack of a better title.

"No," Flynn said. "Lock us in and get some rest. I think we're going to need all the sleep we can get for tomorrow. Just lock the door, keep the key, and be here at eight in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Carl threw a glare at Lucy and left the room, but not before leaving a set of modern day handcuffs and key on the side table by Flynn. "For our resident historian," he said nastily as he shut the door.

Her gaze was fixated on them when Flynn's voice pulled her back to reality. "I know what you're thinking, Lucy, and don't worry."

The idea that Flynn already knew what she was thinking startled her, and her eyes shot to his in panic. "You...you do?" She squeaked. Oh, god, he knows. Lucy flushed in humiliation. She would rather he was shooting at her than know what she'd been thinking.

"Yes," Flynn replied, his voice indifferent. "I'll only use the cuffs on you if you make them necessary."

"Oh," was all Lucy said. Ohhh, she thought to herself. So he didn't know what I was thinking. Relief flooded through her. She definitely had not been thinking about Flynn handcuffing her to keep her from escaping. Well, to be honest she had been thinking about that, but it was for a reason entirely different than preventing her from escape. More like she was imagining Flynn cuffing her more for pleasure than restraint.

Shame filled her then and she dropped her head down. I should not be thinking like this. Flynn's tried to kill me several times, and I'm currently his hostage, for crying out loud! Lucy mentally berated herself. What is wrong with me? To her horror, Lucy then realized that the very short fanatsy images in her head had stoked her desire so much that her cotton panties had a distinct wetness becoming evident.

Oh, my god. I can't believe I'm aroused by Flynn! How is this possible? Lucy closed her eyes tight, willing the thoughts and feelings she had away. It wasn't working though because when Flynn said her name, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he said her name in that sexy accent of his made her body shiver slightly. She only hoped that he hadn't noticed. Why do I love how my name sounds from his lips so much?

"Yes?" Lucy asked, trying to pretend that she was not aroused, only curious as to what he wanted to say. She hoped her voice being higher than usual didn't give her away either.

"Are you going to make the handcuffs necessary?"

Lucy hesitated, as if unsure how to answer the question. "No...I'm not going to make you need to handcuff me." Unless it's to the bed so you can have your way with me. Lucy was a little stunned at the thought, for it had come unbidden. At least she hadn't said it aloud. Thank god for small miracles. She sighed in relief. She became aware that Flynn was staring at her intensely. It was like Flynn's dark eyes could see into her soul and she was frozen.

"Good," was all Flynn said.

Once more, Flynn's voice was low, almost seductive, and Lucy clenched her thighs together. It was an attempt to stave off the desire that washed over her again, but it was no use. Her core throbbed and she felt a gush of moisture come out. She was glad Flynn didn't know what she was thinking or feeling.