Wyatt almost couldn't believe it. He was free. He'd done it and now he was in an abandoned appliance warehouse in Oakland. His reunion with Lucy, Rufus, and Christopher had gone well, especially if that hug from Lucy was anything to go by. It had been a gesture of affection Wyatt had not realized he'd desperately needed until he was engulfed in Lucy's embrace. It made him feel like everything was going to be okay, even if they had a long way to go before that happened.

It had also been comical to see the amusement Lucy had found in his change of mind pertaining to his conviction that he was meant to protect them. He had made it clear after they'd returned from almost being burned at the stake that he didn't believe in things like fate or destiny. But maybe, just maybe, Lucy had been a little bit right. Maybe some things were meant to be. Hell if he knew, but he couldn't deny to himself anymore that there was something unexplainable out there. His life had become weird enough since he'd accepted this assignment for him not to. Sometimes you just had to accept that there was no explanation.

He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. It wasn't exactly an easy feat to achieve on a concrete floor with only a couple of blankets Christopher had been nice enough to bring for him to soften the hardness. It was determined that Wyatt would hide at the warehouse until the next jump, where Rufus would pilot the Lifeboat to land. He'd talked Rufus through holding a tranquilizer gun steady when firing. They couldn't exactly kill the next person assigned as the security detail, even if he would most likely be Rittenhouse, but they had to deal with him in some capacity. Sedating him seemed like the best option, all things considered.

Wyatt had slept in far more uncomfortable places before (the sweltering heat of Afghanistan during the day and freezing cold at night came to mind, and not to mention that sand got everywhere, really sucked ass) so he was irritated that he couldn't find sleep now. He kept thinking of Lucy and her hug. Rufus had been glad to see him, but he'd not received a similar greeting, as if they would-they were men, after all. He didn't think he'd ever forget how relieved and happy she'd been to see him. He felt like he didn't deserve what he knew was her way of showing she'd forgiven him for his selfishness and hurtful words. Lucy Preston was quite a woman. He'd never met anyone like her. Not even Jess had had such a forgiving nature. Maybe if she did she wouldn't be dead.

No, Wyatt said in his mind, blocking that path of thought. It would do him no good to dwell on those thoughts on this night. He wasn't sure if Flynn would jump the next day, so he needed to be fully rested if he did. It was probable he would. The time between Flynn's jumps had been getting shorter and shorter. It seemed like the end goal was finally in sight for Flynn. Wyatt hoped so. He didn't much like being a fugitive of the state. Unless they stopped Flynn and got Rittenhouse of out of Mason Industries, they would all go to prison. With the exception of him, none of the others deserved prison. Rufus would not deal well with that at all, and Lucy deserved prison the least of them. Christopher would leave a wife and two children behind, too. Wyatt hated that he would've played a part in the circumstances sending them all to an underground prison for the rest of their lives if it ended up that way. If they didn't find a way out of their predicament, that's exactly where they would all end up.


Flynn stood off to the side of the opulent penthouse office of Al Capone. He was sipping slowly-he needed to keep a clear head, after all-on a glass of brandy. It was actually quite excellent considering that it was the era of Prohibition and at the time those producing illegal booze were more concerned with quantity than quality. It shouldn't be a surprise in all honestly. It was Al Capone's headquarters they were in. The Lexington Hotel had earned the nickname "Capone's Castle" due to his residency.

With all of the money being poured into the hotel from Capone's illicit activities, one could pretend that the economic crash hadn't happened only a few years ago. It could be forgotten that there were hundreds of thousands of people jobless, starving, barely surviving all over the country. That was the problem with the upper echelons of society with so much money it was like the Great Depression was not upon them. The fact that they had so much money that the economic crisis didn't affect them and they could forget about the everyday person and their struggles.

Flynn sighed. He told himself he would only get angry if he kept thinking about the poor mans' fight against the rich. It was not where his focus needed to be, so instead, he took another look around the room. The Lexington Hotel really was a beautiful place before it fell into disuse and disrepair, finally demolished in the late 20th century. 1995, maybe? he thought. He couldn't remember the exact year the building had been torn down. However, he did know it had been constructed and finished in either 1891 or 1892. It had been built for attendees of the Columbian Exposition.

Before he could steer his thoughts elsewhere, they were directed to the last time he'd been in Chicago. This hotel would've only been a year or so old at the time and one of the resting stops for the richest people of the day and age. In fact, Flynn surmised that Ford and Morgan had probably been registered guests here on that day. Only the best of the best for them, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. The hotel he was standing in couldn't be more different than night and day compared to the small inn he'd-

No! Flynn told himself harshly even as images of a maroon dress and creamy skin, sounds of breathy moans and rustling sheets flashed across his mind. He closed his eyes and sighed again, trying to dispel the memories.

A voice interrupted his reverie. "I know what those sighs mean, my friend."

Flynn turned to see Al Capone watching him, a half-smoked cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. Flynn buried the repulsive idea of Al Capone calling him his friend deeply. "Oh?" Flynn asked, very much in doubt Capone could know a damn thing about what was going on his head.

"Yeah. It's over a broad. She giving you trouble?" Capone didn't bother to hide his amusement as he took another puff from his cigar.

"That's not why I'm here," Flynn said, trying to be as vague as possible. He didn't need or want Capone to know more than he already did. It was more of an insurance policy on the off chance that the man did survive this night. There probably wasn't much the gangster could do with any information gleaned from this day, but Flynn felt it was better to be safe than sorry. However, more people would probably die from continued gang activity under Capone's reign.

"No, you're here for whatever it is you need from Thompson. That's why you gave me the evidence that kept me from jail and gave me Ness' hideout. The look in your eyes say you're after revenge. Those sighs, though, they tell a different story."

"And you think you know what that story is?" Flynn asked. He kept his voice light, not wanting to offend his 'host' in any way.

One wrong answer or seemingly harmless word and Capone could turn on him as quickly as he would no doubt turn on Mayor Thompson. Especially after finding out the man had done nothing to try to squash the tax evasion case on him or that he probably did know where Ness had been living and kept it from Capone intentionally. The mayor would likely have been relieved to be rid of the gangster. It's not like it mattered either way. He was a dead man no matter what happened or was said on this night. Flynn just needed the information from him first. He couldn't bring himself to feel too bad for the man, either. He was a member of Rittenhouse. There was no mercy in his heart for members of the abhorrent organization.

"I do," Capone said, smugness oozing from his assumptive answer. "This broad, she's playing hard to get, dangling herself in front of you enough to keep you coming back, but never fully giving you what you want."

Flynn could've dropped the glass he was holding. Capone wasn't entirely on-the-nose, but he was closer to the truth than Flynn would've preferred. There was also a duality that Flynn would never be able to explain, not even himself. Lorena was gone (the 'hard to get' part) and every time he stepped into the Mothership, he could possibly come back to her being alive (dangling in front of him). Then there was Lucy. She was 'hard to get' because he couldn't have her, but every damn time he saw her, he wanted to go to her, damn the consequences. She might not be 'dangling' in front of him, but it felt that way sometimes. The temptation to look for her on these trips, when it had been written that they didn't interact, was always there. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. It was a compulsion he couldn't suppress.

Capone was looking at him expectantly, his patience already visibly wearing thin at not having confirmation of his supposition. Flynn decided to appeal to the gangster's ego to appease the man. "That's...more or less the situation. Any advice?"

Capone removed the cigar from his mouth and grinned in a way that made even Flynn's skin crawl. The creepy grin couldn't mean anything good in Flynn's-or anyone else's-book. "Yeah. You tell her to choose. She's your girl or she's not. Simple as that."

Flynn could've laughed (or cried) at Capone's naïveté. Fucking mobsters, he thought. The megalomaniacs always thought they knew everything. Looking into the glass as he swirled the rich amber liquid around, he said, "I'll keep that in mind for the next time I see her." He shot what he hoped looked like a smile of gratitude. It was probably more of a grimace, but it was the best he could muster under the circumstances. In his mind he didn't try to reconcile which her he'd meant. It didn't really matter. He couldn't keep either one.

The door to Capone's office opening brought Flynn's mindset back where he needed to be. Just like he'd told that priest, he had a job to do and it was time to do it.

Sorry about the long delay from the last update. Life just gets in the way sometimes. I do want to point out that I made a mistake in the last chapter that Karl had not left until after Public Enemy No. 1, so we'll just chalk that up to creative license. :)